Streaming Episode Game Of Thrones Bataille Armee Mort

About the political controversy surrounding the Argentine World Cup football (1978).

A film concerning the structural dilemmas of social revolution. The armies of opposing pawns form an alliance and overthrow their ruling regimes, and yet the chess board and the class system it represents remains – only it is now the pawns who are in the back row...

The husband of the woman is a minister of a company. She is dedicated to her work, but she is not hot or cold for her wife. When she comes to her home with her own staff, the staff found that the minister’s woman is so sexy and has a heartfelt mourning. I often visited the minister’s house and approached the minister’s wife for various reasons. Finally, I seized an opportunity to rape the wife of the minister. However, the lady who had not been sexually satisfied for a long time liked the pleasure of this kind of affair. Not only did the staff receive the attention of the minister, but they also played with the minister’s wife.

Portrait of a homeless Russian-speaking chess player traveling in Germany and Europe, playing chess with passers-by on the street.

A couple gets their family out of debt by winning on TV game shows, again and again.

Games You Can’t Win explores “empathy” gaming, a new video game movement in which developers are sharing some of their most intimate or traumatic personal experiences through artful, documentary-style video games. Using a combination of intimate verité footage and video capture from the games, the short film tells the stories of three developer and the personal experiences that inspired their game.

Music video for Wicked Game by Karina Ramage

Beating the Game is a 1921 silent Western.

Dirty tricks are a way of life...or death!

High above the city that shimmers like a distant sea, a boy kicks a plastic bottle half full of liquid up a steep shanty road of light and dark. A norteño song plays somewhere. A truck passes. The challenge is to get to the top of the hill by kicking the bottle steadily upwards, intercepting it as it rolls back, kicking it again, playing with and against gravity. The bottle drifts and dodges, zigs and zags, is briefly kidnapped by a dog. At the end, the Sisyphean stakes of the game become clear as the bottle gets away and with a groan the boy runs downhill after it.

The bay is peaceful, framed by low hills in the distance. Three boys stand thigh-deep in the brown water, trousers rolled up. The biggest, on the left, is proficient in the art of stone-skimming: sending flat pebbles spinning over the water in such a way that they bounce off the surface as many times as possible before sinking. The middle boy feeds him stones from a stockpile inside his t-shirt, while the smallest looks on laughing. The skimmer throws quickly, intently, without thinking, without assessing his stone. Some stones sink at the second bounce; some skip a long way. It’s all the same to him, he must keep throwing.

We see three kids from behind, standing at a set distance from a peeling, whitewashed wall. The rule is that each player throws a coin against the wall, that drops and rolls back on the pavement; the player whose coin remains the closest to the wall can keep the other players’ coins. As we watch, though, the coins tinkle everywhere, several flung by each player, further multiplied by their shadows, after which all three rush forward to scoop up loot, seemingly at random and yet without disagreements.

Close-up on shiny boots, knotted elastic, cobbles. Within the confines of a courtyard two demure little girls are playing a game of confinement, entrapment, escape. An elastic band has been stretched into a rectangle around four points –the legs of one girl and of a chair. At first the rectangle is positioned close to the ground. Silent with concentration, the girls take turns bracing the elastic and performing a prescribed sequence of jumps on and around the tensed bands. Ankles are entangled and then jump free. As the elastic rises higher, more and more of the body is involved in skilful contortions and athletic, perilous choreography. There’s no ultimate winning, just getting better at the dance.

The props in this game are wooden sticks or branches shaped like guns. Two kids pretend to fire at each other, making elaborate and highly varied shooting noises. A further dramatic element is the creative use of whatever lends itself in the vicinity –dustbins, trees, walls, abandoned cars– to improvise scenes inspired by war films and westerns, car chases and shootouts between gangs. The camerawork is rapid, swirling, full of jump cuts. A little girl sometimes raises her arms, in exasperation or surrender? Near the end, some half-hearted dying noises. Though the roles of victim and killer are pre-assigned, neither boy actually bites the dust.

The castle must be positioned just far enough from the sea to be completed before the tide reaches it. As the moat is dug by busy spades, the vacated sand forms a growing pile in the middle. Sea water starts to rise into the moat from below. As the waves break gently, closer and closer, the children dig faster to fortify the outer rampart with sodden sand. Even as the defences are being flooded, they work on shaping and firming the castle with hands and feet. The tide soon overwhelms the mini world and smooths the whole thing flat, leaving the children standing ankle-deep in ebb and flow.

This game requires considerable practice and precision, especially on the uneven terrain of an urban waste lot. The action consists in flicking a marble with thumb and index finger so that it reaches a hole in the ground in the fewest possible stages, ideally knocking away other marbles in its path. The player can keep any marble he has knocked out. If he doesn’t knock out any, he must wait his turn to try again, hoping another player won’t claim his marble in the meantime. Whoever collects the most wins. As the marbles tumble into the hollow, we see the players’ heads circularly reflected for a second in their tiny, polished spheres.

Girls and boys, together for once, hunt through lush grass and undergrowth, on the lookout for well-camouflaged grasshoppers. When one is found its hind legs are pulled off, though not its wings. Each child hurls his or her grasshopper up into the air, where it flutters against the sky above the upturned faces of the skipping, wheeling children. Unable to fly far, it will soon free-fall and be captured again. The winner is the player whose grasshopper stays the longest in the air.

A 10-year-old boy in a pink salwar kameez stands near a dune-coloured wall under a powder-blue sky. He frowns and gesticulates, conversing in stops and starts with the heavens or at least with the gusting wind because you don’t see his kite at first, and the string is so fine you can’t see that either. What you see is a body interacting with unknown forces, pulling to the left, the right, up, down, quick, over to the left again, and so on. Here is not only the body of the boy but the body of the world in deft mutual mimesis, amounting to ‘the mastery of non-mastery’ which is the greatest game of all: a guide, a goal, a strategy –all in one– for dealing with man’s domination of nature (including human nature). Afghan kite fighters often attach small blades to their kite strings, or coat them with ground glass and glue, the better to down their opponents’. Under the Taliban, kite-flying was banned.

A group of children hold hands in a circle. The child in the middle plays the lamb, the one outside is the wolf. The wolf tries to catch the lamb by breaking through the human fence, but the kids crouch quickly down, blocking him with lowered arms. If the wolf does breach the circle, the lamb can duck out of it, while the kids now try to keep the wolf imprisoned inside. At times the cheeky lamb provokes the wolf, rushing out of safety almost into his path and darting back in. The lamb may be caught, ending that round of the game, inside or outside the fold; but these kids prefer close shaves, the dramatic prolongation of suspense.

The game is filmed from above in a single take, emphasizing the inexorable process of subtraction. Six children place five chairs in a row, facing in alternate directions. When the music starts, the players skip one behind the other around the chairs. When the music stops, everyone scrambles to occupy the nearest chair and one person is left standing. The loser carries a chair away, stomping out of shot to the left. The music starts again, and so it goes on until the winner claims the last chair. Then there is only an empty space.