stuff I am thinking

We're going to Venice...

2011-07-12T19:17:00.000-07:00

We are going to Venice to take Italian language classes from the Venice Italian School. We hope that Lucia and Diego [the sister-brother instruction team] are as charming and helpful and they appear to be online and via email. Lucia organized an apartment for us on the Campo Santa Margherita, which looks to be entirely spiffy.

In the spirit of excitement about our up-coming trip, I'm posting some shots from my last visit to Venice:

The Rialto Market:The fish market:
The Grand Canal:
St. Mark's:
A small canal:
The Moors:
The view from the Bridge of Sighs:

A gondola stop
The Rialto Bridge
An alley

We left Brittany and came to Aix

2010-06-04T03:44:00.000-07:00

We had a spiffy time in Brittany (Bretagne, Breizh)... this was the first time that I've ever rented a car in Europe, and I must say it is certainly difficult going back to trains and walking, in a way, because of the freedom having a vehicle affords the traveller. We would have been thwarted significantly without our Peugot Partner to help get us around... it was a bit nerve-wracking, at first, what with the unfamiliar signage, etc., but it soon became relatively easy to zip around. While we were driving around, Melinda discovered the radio station of her French dreams, Radio Bonheur, which plays all oldies, all the time (100% Chansons Francaises!); I haven't heard that much accordion since the Walter Ostanek vs. Frankie Yankovic battle for polka supremacy.

We managed to get as far as Carnac to see the menhirs... we also saw Kermaria an Insquit, with the marvelous Dance of Death... we went to Guingamp (home of Radio Bonheur), Quimper, Roscoff, St. Pol de Leon, Morlaix, and many more places. I will update the list when I get home... after the 16th. Brittany was delightful, and I recommend it as a holiday destination for anyone wanting a chance to visit an authentic region of France.

We give thanks to the Cudennec family, without whose generosity our trip would have been impossible... Nicole, for suggesting the possibility in the first place; Josy, for making it happen; and Joel, for welcoming us to Locquirec so warmly.

Now, we are in Aix, preparing to take in some of the delights; today, we are going to get a tour of Cezanne's studio, ane, later, we are going to a ballet. A full enough day, I think.

I need to sign off; the time is ticking down on this computer... until the next time...

More Paris

2010-05-17T02:54:00.000-07:00

I am taking this opportunity to pen a quick note to my reader [whoever you are!]... Melinda has gone off shopping with her new friend, Thuy... they seem like peas in a pod, especially considering Thuy's bright green coat. I have an hour before meeting Martin at the Gare de l'Est; he's coming in on the ICE train for a visit, from Frankfurt.

The wedding went off with a hitch; the church, l'Eglise Saint Augustin, is dandy... evidently a good example of ecclectic architecture [Romanesque, Byzantine, Baroque...], and a spiffy spot for the nuptials. Rosemary and Frederic did a good job; no one fainted or ran away or any of that stuff, and they appeared delighted to be getting married, as they should be... they make a lovely couple and, if they do succumb to the rather intense and sometimes cringe-worthy family pressure [from both the Taiwanese and French sides!] to reproduce, they will make beautiful babies and, I am sure, spectacularly nice parents... but, I get ahead of the game... and I'm not even related.

The reception was on a rather luxurious boat on the Seine; it was moored at the pont d'Iena, most notable for being right across from the Eiffel Tower! Talk about a money shot! The first picture of your wedding reception having the big, famous pointy-thing of Paris in the background certainly speaks of a romantic ideal. The meal was delicious, with fine food and fine wine... there was dancing and the ship made the trip from the mooring to approximately where the Canal St. Martin meets the Seine, and back again. The best part was how nice everyone was and how much of a good time was had by all. There were 55 people attending, and this seemed like an optimal size. We sat next to Richard, Melinda's other childhood friend who attended [other than Rosemary]. He had arrived that morning from Philadelphia... I am sure he was quite exhausted, but he gave a good show of hanging in there.

Well, I will finish off a little less abrubtly than the last post. By the way, I had a croque monsieur, il était délicieux!

Paris in the Springtime

2010-05-13T05:28:00.000-07:00

It has been a while since I made a post... it is not that there's been nothing of note going on in my life, but the most noteworthy aspect of my recent being might be my colossal laziness. However, the past is just that, and now nothing says blog post like being on a trip.

We are in Paris, particularly because Melinda's [and my] friend, Rosemary [see earlier posts... she's the one in the middle!] is getting married to Frederic, here. Today is Thursday [I think] and the wedding is on Saturday, in the 8th arrondissement... this should be fun. We're here for 10 days, staying at the Hotel Montpensier, in the 1st arrondissement... right near the Louvre and easy to get to and from.

This morning, after a delightful breakfast, we walked around, looking in windows [and popping in to a couple of stores... I bought some underwear and a shirt at Celio, and Melinda bought a scarf at Carole], past the Opera Garnier, to Galleries Lafayette and Printemps, the big department stores on Boulevard Haussmann, where Melinda purchased a spiffy blue jacket. We also went to a nearby jewelry store, and Melinda got a necklace and a ring to match the dress she brought for the wedding.

Right now, Melinda is at a bridal shower, a cooking class for the ladies... it looked like fun, but no boys were allowed, so here I am in the cybercafe on Boulevard St. Michel, across from the Jardin du Luxembourg, reporting to you. Later, we are going to meet for drinks and then have dinner... which reminds me that it has been a while since breakfast, and dinner won't be any too early, so I should head for a non-cyber cafe for a bite to eat to sustain myself... the good thing about thinking about having lunch is that it will be lunch IN PARIS, which makes everything better; eating a cheese sandwich at home is nothing compared with eating a cheese sandwich IN PARIS! Hmmm, thinking about a cheese sandwich has me thinking that

Frankfurt am Main

2009-07-18T08:18:00.000-07:00

Our European wanderings have brought us to Frankfurt, which has the duel attraction of being a good city from which to base some touring, and of being the home to our friends, Martin and Arabella. We are happily ensconced in the Hotel Diana, where the staff are friendly and the breakfast is big. We've visited the fine arts museum and the sculpture museum, as well as wandered around town. Yesterday, Martin drove us to Darmstadt, to visit the printing museum therein. Despite Arabella's insistence to the contrary, the museum was not boring but great; I think that I took about 100 pictures, but then I get very excited around moveable type. They have all kinds of machines, most of them operational, and the volunteers who work there are gems. The pressman, Peter, was particularly helpful... he was also excited that we were from Canada. He asked "where are you from?" and I thought he meant the country, but he had already pegged us as Canadian and wanted to know the city, so I told him "Prince George" with all the confidence that he'd have to ask where that is, but he said "Oh, I've been there three times and will be there next summer... I have been through to Prince Rupert, to Alaska, and to Jasper, and next year I am going to go from Vancouver to the Yukon to take the Dempster Highway!" Needless to say, I was impressed. I gave him my card and hope that he calls, so I can return some of his hospitality.

Also in Darmstadt we visited the Mathildenhöhe, which has a gallery and a lot of Jugendstil architecture. It also had a restaurant [thankfully] where we had Swabian specialties, in honour of Martin's heritage. The gallery had a delightful show by Nedko Solakov, a Bulgarian artist. His work consisted of emendations he made to the gallery space; after the last show was taken down, all the cases and pillars as well as labels were left in place, and he mainly wrote on the walls in felt pen, drawing little stick figures, writing satirical text, and making comments about art, artists, art patrons, and life in general. I enjoyed it, especially since the fellow on the cash register tried to warn us that we might not like the show... he even gave us a discount, because he was afraid we'd complain [there was a sign saying that no refunds would be given... I think that they have had a lot of complaints!]... after the show, we assured him that it was great. Oh, besides the gallery show, we were told to go downstairs for the rest of the exhibit, which consisted of taking off our shoes, putting our feet in plastic bags, putting on the available rubber boots, going up a set of stairs, then descending a ladder to an underground, bricked water reservoir, where we waded through a foot of water to the far corner, where there was a desk with a lamp on it, with a sign telling us that he had run out of ideas and perhaps we could offer him one... there were pencils and paper and a box to put the suggestions in... I offered a suggestion, but I am pretty sure that just walking through the water and contemplating his request constituted the art work.

Well, the clock is striking 5:45 [we are in an internet cafe right next to a church] and we are meeting M and A for dinner, soonish. More updates to come...

Vive La France!

2009-07-14T09:34:00.000-07:00

A quick note for you, dear reader, in case you are wondering... we are in Strasbourg and have been for a few days; it is Bastille Day, so we anticipate some decent fireworks, tonight.

This is a good city for sightseeing; there is a lot to do, but the main part of the old town is walkable... nothing is too far from anything else. The cathedral here is exceptional; until the one in Cologne was constructed, it was the tallest in Europe (142 m). The centre of the city is all walking streets bordered with lovely half-timbred houses.

The food has been dandy, too; choucroute is the specialty, and we've had spatzle and other french/germanish delights. The wine is fine... I have always been a great fan of Alsatian wine, and it is great to be in the homeland.

Tomorrow, we set sail (or hop the train) for Frankfurt; this has been a bit of a short stay in Strasbourg, but I think that we will return. It will be good to see our friend, Martin, tomorrow, and get to looking at Hessian stuff.

TTFN.

Now, Avignon

2009-07-09T13:31:00.000-07:00

Just a quick update for my reader...

We had a great time in Barcelona, then took the train out of Sants Station on the 5th. We got to Avignon, and have been moving pretty quickly ever since. We have seen the Palace of the Popes and the Pont St. Benizet (the bridge from the song) and numerous sights around Avignon. As well, we took a day-trip to Arles, and two tours: one to Pont du Gard and Chateauneuf du Papes; and one to Les Baux, Gordes, and Roussillon. As well as the structured activities, we have been seeing a lot of street theatre, as the Avignon Festival is going on right now. Our meals have been dandy, too. We had one particulary good one at a place called La Fourchette (recommended by the fellow who did our wine-tasting at the Palace of the Popes... a wise investment... he said it was his favourite restaurant in Avignon); I had foie gras, then dorade (one of my favourite fishes), with peach soup for dessert, all washed-down with a lovely rosé... spiffy. It has been action-packed. Tomorrow is our last day here... on Saturday, we go to Strasbourg; it is a long train ride, but there are no changes.

Well, this is pretty much it for now... typing on a French keyboard takes a little getting used to.

Greetings from Barcelona

2009-07-03T06:35:00.001-07:00

We (Melinda and I) have been in Barcelona for a week, now... the first few days sightseeing and latterly at The Learning Conference at the University of Barcelona.

We've seen a bunch of good stuff... The Sagrada Familia, the Picasso Museum, The Catalan Museum, The Joan Miro Gallery, The Barcelona City Museum, Park Guell, Mount Tibidabo (and the amusements thereon), as well as a number of other nifty spots.

The conference is going well, as well. It is a "learning" conference, and this definition seems to be wide open, so there are many different, interesting presentations in a number of different streams. As well as learning good stuff, we have managed to make a few friends, including Salah, who is from Bahrain and is currently finishing his doctorate in England. There are people here from all over the world, and it is particularly valuable to hear that the problems we face as educators (students, administration, politics, etc.) are universal, and this serves to make our work in Prince George seem a little less isolated. As well, we are picking up all kinds of good ideas.

On the idea of meeting people from all over, we met two charming young guys from Finland while heading up to Mount Tibidabo, yesterday. Antii and Simo were spending their last day in Barcelona -- Antii because he had to go back to Helsinki to report for his compulsory military service, and Simo because he was going to Malta for language school -- and they deigned to spend the afternoon with us oldsters. We enjoyed the delights of Tibidabo, the view, the churchtower, a flight on Air Tibidabo ( a ride that appears to date from 1928), and just wandering and looking. After our stop on the mount, we went back into Barcelona for dinner at Casa Alfonso, a dandy place for tapas. It was fun hanging out with the gents... they are thoughtful and interesting characters. One particularly funny moment: Melinda was explaining that her interst in Finland included the Moomin books and Antii exclaimed that these were (and perhaps still are) his favourite books, without any sense of self-consciousness about childishness... I hope he keeps his head down while he is out there learning to be a soldier. Finland is in good hands, if these two are any indication of the next generation coming to maturity there.

Well, time to sign off... considering that the one person who regularly might read this is sitting at the computer terminal next to me, this might be a fruitless exercise...

Review #15 – The Necessities of Life

2009-02-18T11:57:00.000-08:00

In 1952, an Inuk man goes aboard a hospital ship for a routine chest x-ray; the next thing he knows, he is being sent to Quebec City, to a sanitarium, for treatment. On paper, this sounds disturbing, but, perhaps, necessary; he will die without treatment, won't he? This misses the greater pain of leaving behind his family, his land, and his culture.

The exceptional Natar Ungalaaq plays Tiivii, who finds himself in a Quebec hospital, surrounded by unilingual Quebecois, who greet him with attitudes ranging from compasion to contempt. Ungalaaq is not merely perfect for this part because he looks it, he is perfect because he is a tremendously gifted actor. When he asks, "I am the hunter; who will get meat for my family?" the viewer understands the complexity of his plight. This is compounded by his agony of the implied lack of dignity for everyone involved: "Now my wife will have to beg for food if she and the children are going to survive."

As well as delivering believably complex emotional resposes, Ungalaaq looks great on screen; the camera appears to love him. When we first see Tiivii, he is a vibrantly masculine presense; his long hair, parka, and kamiks combine to define him simply as Hunter. Later, at the sanitorium, stripped of his clothes, his hair, and his dignity, Tiivii appears to have aged 30 years. He is a shrunken, vulnerable shadow, his weakness compounded by an inability to communicate.

Lest you imagine this film to be an unrelenting sob-fest, let me assure you that there is light in this darkness. The audience at our screening laughed out loud in a number of places, and Tiivii has friends... particularly Nurse Carole, played with caring grace by Éveline Gélinas, and Kaki, an Inuk boy [who luckily has learned French!], played with quiet composure by Paul-André Brasseur. During Tiivii's extended stay in Quebec City, these are the people who allow him to live and express himself.

Director Benoît Pilon and cinematographer Michel La Veaux must be praised for the look of the film. In a reversal of one's usual prejudice, Tiivii's homeland in the North appears much warmer and more inviting than the sanitarium and Quebec City, so much further to the South. This subtle visual manipulation lends significant emotional weight, without the risk of maudlin explication.

Sometimes the description "Canadian film" involves a certain pejorative undertone, unfairly, but speaking of qualities of plot and production typical of this nation. In Necessities of Life [Inuujjutiksaq in Inuktitut, and Ce qu'il faut pour vivre in French] one does not find any negatives attached to this quintessentially Canadian production; it is a must-see film, both for the emotionally-charged and historically-revealing plot, as well as for its significantly beautiful presentation.

Happy Human Rights Day

2008-12-10T22:31:00.000-08:00

Sixty years ago today, the Universal Declaration of Human Rights was ratified by the United Nations; let's all celebrate our freedoms and our rights and think about those who should – but do not – share these fundamental truths of human existence. For a cool view of the text, go to this youtube post... or this one. Here is the link to the official text.

For some "fun", check out this video presentation of The Clash's Know Your Rights... still as strong today as in 1983 when they last performed it together. And here's the immortal Bob Marley performing Get Up Stand Up [stand up for your rights].

Enjoy your rights... today and every day.

Review #14 – The Duchess

2008-11-23T12:50:00.000-08:00

An appreciative audience enjoyed the lovely end to the Cinema CNC season on Saturday, our screening of The Duchess. Having said this, I must admit to not being quite as prone to wonderment, as some folks are, at the general spectacle of period-pieces; however, this work won me over, primarily for two reasons: the quality of the acting and the complexity of the plot.

Most historical dramas are judged, primarily, on two elements: how they are filmed, and how they look. The cinematography is The Duchess is handled splendidly by Gyula Pados, a Hungarian whiz, whose name sounded familiar... with the help of IMDB, I found credits for the beautifully haunting Fateless, Lajos Koltai's coming-of-age in Buchenwald story, which I saw at the Toronto Film Festival a couple of years ago, and for Kontroll, a delightfully dark account of ticket inspectors on the Budapest subway [and particularly problematic cinematographically, as most of the action takes place under fluorescent lighting in the myriad tunnels and stations of the subway system].

As far as how this film looks, praise must be lavished on costumer Michael O'Connor, set decorator Rebecca Alleway, and art director Karen Wakefield... their attention to detail and enthusiasm expressed in getting all elements as close to correct as possible is testament to their professionalism.

The story in The Duchess is a simple one: a 16 year-old woman is married-off for position and to provide an heir to the Duke of Devonshire, one of the most powerful men in England. She has been naïve, he is a brute. She breaches her contract by not producing a male child, and he takes on a number of lovers, including her best friend who conveniently lives with them. The story becomes complicated because the Duchess, Georgiana, as played by Keira Knightley, has a brain and has opinions and has desires. That she is the great-great[add more greats as necessary] aunt of Diana, Princess of Wales, might have aided in the marketing of this film [the tagline, "there were three people in her marriage" is an anachronistic reference to a comment of Diana's], but one can't help draw some interesting parallels, in-as-much-as one wants to be sympathetic to those considered social betters living their lives as if in a fishbowl.

Georgiana appears to have a keen political sense; the Duke, played by Ralph Fiennes, is the principal benefactor of the Whig party, but he seems as oddly detached from the quotidian aspects of politics as he is from everything else in his life [including his wife and children], except his dogs. She, on the other hand, takes an interest to the point of being a great friend to Charles Fox, a thorn in the side of the monarchy, and lover of Charles Grey, the Earl Grey of tea fame and future Prime Minister [with whom she had a daughter, also making her a direct ancestor of Sarah, Duchess of York... this wasn't played up... I wonder why?].

That the Duke is a cad is a historical truth and a necessary plot device; however, his depiction by Ralph Fiennes is much more complex... Fiennes seems to be having a lot of fun playing this character, even while glowering darkly at the end of the table whose two other occupants are his wife and his in-house lover. Fiennes plays him not for sympathy but for understanding; that this depiction falls short in the attempt is in no way a failure of Fiennes' craft... the life of such a man is just too far off the radar of this middle-class North American [me] for him to be rendered understandable. The power of the performance is in the understatement, in the Duke's seeming lack of understanding of the simplest of human emotions [did he have some form of autism?], and Fiennes carries the movie, when it isn't being carried by Keira Knightley.

The Duchess was noted in her day for her flamboyance and for her style; she was the "It girl" of 18th century London society. Her hair was higher, her hats were bigger, and her dresses were more elaborate than anybody else's. As well, she had an infectiously charming personality, energetically portrayed by the lovely Keira Knightley... to paraphrase one wag in the movie, " the Duke is the only man in England who doesn't love his wife." Knightley probably deserves an Oscar nomination for her work in this film, and not only for risking snapping her lovely slender neck under the weight of the enormous wigs and un-aerodynamic millinery required for the role. She plays Georgiana with charm and intelligence; the Duchess is not just a poor-little-rich-girl, but a fully-formed – and thus effectively stiffled – woman of her epoch.

The plot of The Duchess mixes the personal with the public, the old ideas with the new [of the time] and the dream with the reality, all while giving the audience members credit for being able to come to their own conclusions. This film can be read as a slice-of-life depiction, as a deeply personal story of a difficult marriage, and/or as a deeply charged political statement. Any way you want to look at this film, read it you must... it doesn't do it for you, and this, finally, is the true strength of Saul Dibb's effort.

Review #13 – Frozen River

2008-11-16T13:41:00.000-08:00

An appropriate choice for a snowy, windy night, Frozen River played to a smallish – but appreciative – audience on Saturday. This film represents the qualities that American independent productions could, but often don't, offer; so much of US filmmaking is focussed on box-office splash that the simple act of telling a small story well gets lost... not here in Courtney Hunt's debut feature, though. That this film has been nominated for and has won a number of prestigious prizes, including the Grand Jury Prize at Sundance, is probably sufficient recommendation... you could stop reading now and will have received the message I am trying to deliver.

I must confess to really, really liking Melissa Leo, who plays the central figure, Ray Eddy, in this piece. Ever since her turn as Detective Sergeant Kay Howard in Homicide: Life on the Streets, I've wondered why she of the leonine mane of hair and whiskey and cigarettes voice doesn't get more work... Frozen River merely reinforces the strength of this question. That, as of this post, she is in 10 productions either finished or currently in production, means others have asked this question and we will, thankfully, be seeing a lot more of her soon. The other principal in Frozen River, Misty Upham, as Lila Littlejohn [a Robin Hood reference, perhaps?], does not seem to have been noticed in the same light, but she should be... it would be sad if this talented actor is relegated to roles calling for a First-Nations woman, rather than to roles requiring a strong woman... of any race or creed. Why, when no race is indicated, is white the norm? This is most apparent when this notion is breached, as in Sandra Oh's portrayal of Carol French in Wilby Wonderful [a dandy Canadian production], a part that I am sure wasn't specifically written for a Korean woman in Daniel McIvor's script... but I digress [as always]. This being said, Misty Upham's portrayal did bring to mind another, Elaine Miles as Marilyn Whirlwind in Northern Exposure... blending similar enigmatic qualities and inner strength [albeit to less comedic end in the production under discussion].

To the movie... the characters in Frozen River lead, in Thoreau's terms, "lives of quiet desperation", perched as they are on the margins of society. That Ray's biggest dream is to live in a new double-wide mobile home, sounding like some sort of classist punchline, and that her good-for-nothing and gambling addicted husband has fled for parts unknown with the downpayment [unwisely hidden in the glovebox of her car] serves to underline just how close to the wire her life is functioning. She is, seemingly, always a couple of thousand away from a notion of success, and one minor disaster away from despair... this is reinforced by her son's unfortunate use of a blowtorch to thaw a frozen pipe... but I don't want to give anything away. Ray works part-time at the Yankee One Dollar store, and doesn't seem to be getting ahead in any way. She meets Lila, and they form an uneasy detente, smuggling illegal aliens across the nearby US-Canadian border, through the Mohawk reservation.

Both of these women live on the boundaries: Ray has qualities that give her advantages, especially being white, but she lives a hand-to-mouth existence; Lila has connection to community that Ray doesn't have, but she lives in an unserviced travel trailer in the woods. The space they inhabit is characterized by a moral ambiguity which underlines that hard-and-fast ethics are the purview of the comfortable. Even though Lila gives Ray the comfort of saying that the smuggling is legal because it takes place on the reserve, and that the Mohawk don't recognize the border between the nations, both women know that what they are doing is fundamentally wrong, but also oddly necessary. And also very dangerous... the folks they are dealing with are not pleasant, and the manner of the border crossing, on the frozen St. Lawrence River in an ill-equipped car whose main attraction is that it has a remote-release trunk, does not bode well of their long-term survival.

This film maintains the drama without falling for the temptation of cliché; the viewer cares what happens, while being astounded at what happens. There is good acting here, in the principals, and in the secondary characters, particularly Charlie McDermott and James Reilly as Ray's children. Some of the other players are amateurish, but this lends a degree of verisimilitude to the production... and is easily forgiven in the over-all strength of the effort.

A number of reviewers laud Frozen River's style as something missing from the American independent production scene; this is too bad for our neighbours to the South, as, for a Canadian audience, this film seems very familiar. So, if you watch this film and like what you see, check out some Canadian films, which, by virtue of small budgets, tend toward strong characters and plot at the expense of flash. Sometimes this seems small-time, but it is mainly oddly refreshing.

Review #12 – My Brother is an Only Child

2008-11-09T16:30:00.000-08:00

Cinema CNC showed My Brother is an Only Child on Saturday to an appreciative audience... director Daniele Luchetti's work isn't seen too often on this side of the Atlantic, which is too bad... as a matter of fact, there haven't been too many Italian films in general release for the past few years; as North America rediscovers French film and starts to appreciate Spanish productions, Italian film seems to have been overlooked.

Well, let's just say that this film goes a long way both to suggest that film is not currently dead in Italy and to make strong reference to great Italian films of the past. I found myself thinking of Fellini, De Sica, Rossellini, and Pasolini at different moments during the film, not because of lack of engagement, but because of the comfortingly familiar way that Luchetti constructs his movie. My friend David mentioned a French/Spanish connection too; in one scene the entire family walks down the road, bickering, which brought to his mind Luis Buñuel's The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie.

On with the story... two brothers, Accio and Manrico, compete over everything: physical dominance, politics, family affection, women. Accio is at a disadvantage; he is younger and has a somewhat-unpleasant demeanor. Manrico, beside having natural personal charm, is blessed with matinee-idol looks [which will serve Riccardo Scamarcio, the actor portraying him, well]. There is a sister as well, Violetta who is a whiz on the cello, but she doesn't have enough screen time to seem fully realized as a character. This brings me to a small criticism of the film... it drags a bit at times, primarily, I think, because the director tried a little too hard to stay true to the source, a novel [Il Fasciocomunista, by Antonio Pennacchi], and we all know the vagaries of this pursuit as demonstrated so often elsewhere. That being said, that this movie was born of a literary source is generally a strength. The family dynamics can be seen as a microcosm of Italian society in the mid-to-late 60s. The Benassi family is leftist; Manrico is adored by his parents for leading a revolt at the factory where he works. To rebel, Accio studies to be a priest... his lack of success seems to be predicated on the fact that he finds God to be too forgiving, which leads him, seemingly naturally, to his next rebellion: joining the fascist party, under the tutelage of his friend, Mario, a tablecloth salesman who adores Mussolini.

Accio [mis]spends his time looking for a place to fit in, and Manrico always seems to fit in; however, the simplicity of this equation becomes more complicated both literally and figuratively. Viewers' sympathies are toyed with here; we like Manrico, but the film is, ultimately, told from Accio's point-of-view. Figuratively, these young men represent the somewhat-scrambled nature of Italian society in this period, presented both sympathetically and somewhat parodically, as in the revolutionary rendition of Ode to Joy performed during a student occupation in an academy in Rome, with lyrics altered to praise Mao, Lenin, and all things communist.

Accio and Manrico compete for the affections of Francesca [played by Diane Fleri] of the luminous smile. This battle plays out in a non-stereotypic fashion which gives greater interest to the characters involved and leads to disasterous result within the film [I'll say no more, for fear of giving something away].

Another sub-story that would be all-too-familiar to anyone living in Italy in the 60s is that the Benassi family, and everyone else they know, is in a state of suspended social animation, waiting for promised social housing that never seems to be available. Their frustration boils over in a suprising and satisfying manner, bringing the symbolic and the real social situations of Italian life together.

My Brother is an Only Child entertains and enlightens; despite a couple of spots where the story drags a little, we get to see a slice of life worth observing... one of the movie-goers I know quite well said, "they sure did yell a lot, didn't they?" to which I said, "have you been to Italy?" And you have, if you've seen this film.

Obama Wins

2008-11-04T23:37:00.000-08:00

What more can I say?

Let's hope it really means something.

Good going, America.

Review #11 – Before the Rains

2008-11-02T21:50:00.000-08:00

Saturday, Cinema CNC showed Before the Rains to an appreciative audience; both the filmmaking and the subject matter is impressive here. Santosh Sivan sets this film in his native Kerala, in south India, highlighting the intense beauty of the landscape in a manner befitting the Merchant Ivory label on this work.

Sivan is an accomplished director, most notably of 1999's The Terrorist, as well as a seasoned cinematographer, with 38 film credits, including Bride and Prejudice and the Mistress of Spices. His camerawork chops are showcased in Before the Rains; this is a beautiful film, with the expected sweeping landscape shots, but Sivan also has a subtle touch: the interior shots are nicely composed and his camera helps tell the story... sometimes a little heavyhandedly, as in a lingering close-up of a gun near the beginning of the film [you just know that someone's going to get it... you are merely waiting to find out who], but usually with subtlety, as in a look through a bloodstained window, as a character recognizes the importance of this stain [after the gun comes back into play... not a spoiler; just a fact].

Thematically, this film packs a punch... we are introduced to Henry [Linus Roache] and Sajani [Nandita Das] at a moment of playful flirtation. It becomes increasingly apparent that they are lovers and that their love is forbidden, both by the cultural and social divide [he's English and an imperialist landowner... she's Indian and his maid] and by the fact that they are both married: he to Laura [Jennifer Ehle], to whom he seems to feel socially inferior; she to Rajat [Lal Paul], who despite being a brute apparently loves her. The man caught up between the two cultures depicted [and quite literally in the middle of the mess created] is T.K. Neelan [Rahul Bose] the one completely sympathetic, but ultimately doomed, character in this drama. Henry is a cad; we start out cheering for him, but his true colours come to the surface soon enough. Sajani is tragically foolish. Laura is too cool as a character and too associated with the benefits of imperialism to elicit much sympathy. T.K. has been to the English school and sees that the way to get ahead is to put his lot in with the overlords; his timing couldn't be worse, considering the emerging nationalist movement in India, and we all know how that works out... don't we? [if not, see Ben Kingsley's depiction in Gandhi].

A central conflict in the movie is the completion of the road which will enable Henry to expand his tea empire into spices; this gives the title to the movie, as it must be finished before the monsoon season, or it will be washed away. The potential folly of this effort mirrors the whole British adventure in India, microcosmically represented in the relationships depicted in Before the Rains. This film transcends the overworked conventions of an anti-colonialism morality tale with a plot twist that shifts the focus to an ethical question that might just serve to destroy everyone involved. I really want to tell you what it is, but etiquette dictates that I exercise reserve.

This film was adapted from an earlier, Israeli effort by Dan Verete, called Asphalt Zahov [Yellow Asphalt]. I am not sure exactly how this transfiguration happened or how it works, but after reading the description for Verete's film, I am quite intrigued. I will try to see it and report back to you. If anybody has seen Asphalt Zahov, leave me a note, please.

A final note to suggest to you that you see Before the Rains; it is worth a look.

Review #10 – Vicky Cristina Barcelona

2008-10-26T10:48:00.000-07:00

Woody Allen's latest, Vicky Cristina Barcelona, screened to popular acclaim at Cinema CNC on Saturday; this is much too big a film for our series, but the local megaplex would never screen it, so there we were!

Before getting to the movie, I feel compelled to discuss the director, because Woody Allen inspires all kinds of comment. While talking up the movie during the week, I had more than one person say something like "a Woody Allen movie? Why? Yuck...." [eyes rolling]... I am somewhat mystified by this response... while much has been made of aspects of his personal life, his choices and all, and some of his movies haven't quite measured up now and then, why do people feel such a strong aversion to him? Woody Allen first awed me when I saw a screening of Manhattan at Cinecenta, the University of Victoria's cinema. Manhattan is spectacular... a clever melange of story, technique, and character, mixed to create a love-document to that great municipality. I have since seen pretty much all of the 40ish films he's made. I had a crush on Barbara Hershey after watching Hannah and Her Sisters, I almost wet myself watching Sleeper, I was fascinated by the technique of Zelig, not to mention the numerous other big and beautiful films he has made. And as for his personal life, most of the prejudice is predicated on his relationship with Soon-Yi Previn, his ex-wife's [Mia Farrow's] adopted daughter... I don't know exactly what went on there, but they have been together for 15 years, ten of them as husband and wife, which is a long time by show-biz standards. All this being said, I hope that when I am 72 years old, I don't opt for a comfortable retirement, but rather make a film as fine as Vicky Cristina Barcelona.

The film opens with an introduction of our three main characters: Vicky [Rebecca Hall] and Cristina [Scarlet Johansson] and Barcelona [Barcelona]. The two women are riding in a taxi and are shown on split screen, with a voice-over [provided by Christopher Evan Welch] explaining why they are there and what their life-views, especially to do with love, consist of. Vicky wants stability and security and appears to have found this... she is engaged to Doug [Chris Messina], a wealthy and seemingly nice young man. Cristina doesn't know what she wants, but does know what she doesn't want... which is Vicky's dream. Cristina has recently made a short film about LOVE, but is unsatisfied and wants to forget it. The third character, Barcelona, provides the romantic context for the challenges of these contrasting world-views. Allen treats the city with some of the same affection he gives New York in Manhattan... however, it is not affection born of years of familiarity and regard as in the earlier film, but rather the thrill of infatuation... the freshness of a new love.

Woody Allen films, even when thin on other elements, always have fascinating characters, often testaments to the actors creating them. He seems to have a knack for bringing out fine performances in his players. Javier Bardem, as Juan Antonio, shows his chops, especially when one contrasts this with his depiction of Anton Chigurh in No Country for Old Men. His haircut is better here, as is his personality... while this film, on description, might come across as some kind of male fantasy piece, with Juan Antonio juggling women [not just Vicky and Christina, but Maria Elena, too... more on her in a sec.], but it becomes much more, largely through the sympathetic depiction created by Bardem. His character, while undeniably benefitting from these women's affections, serves as a passive base on which the female characters act. He is seemingly without guile, but full of passion... he opens contact with Vicky and Cristina by offering to take them on a nice holiday to a remote location where they can see the sights and eat the food and make love, eliciting both shocked and intrigued responses from V and C. He seems genuinely surprised, precisely because he isn't trying any tricks... he is being straightforward.

Maria Elena is Juan Antonio's ex-wife, and, by all accounts, they have had a tempestuous relationship... she is played with great energy by Penélope Cruz as the human embodiment of a tempest... even when she is sitting still and smiling, one still has the impression that tumult in not too far below the surface. Her character does not appear until almost half-way through the movie, but it is hard to forget her impact. Cruz's depiction shows both her talent for character and Woody Allen's talent for eliciting performances from actors.

As in previous films, Allen is quick to pay homage to things he likes in other artists... film and otherwise. We see references to Almodóvar, especially in the outdoor scenes with Spanish guitar... no surprise since his cinematographer is Javier Aguirresarobe, Pedro Almodóvar's cinematographer for Talk to Her. Javier Bardem's dialogue is often pure Ingemar Bergman; when he talks about the reasons for his forwardness, one is reminded of Jøns' line "But feel, to the very end, the triumph of being alive!" from The Seventh Seal, a much darker take on this same discussion about what it means to truly live. The picnic scene in this film reminds me of a scene in a Marilyn Monroe film, with Scarlett Johanssen's wardrobe providing the trigger [I can't remember which film, but the shorts and gingham are definitely reminiscent]. The film Vicky and her friend go to is Shadow of a Doubt, an Alfred Hitchcock film from 1943.

Music plays a prominent role here, as it does in other Allen films, with "Barcelona", by Giulia y los Tellarini, "Entre Dos Aguas", by Paco de Lucía, "Granada", by Isaac Albéniz [played by Emilio de Benito], and "Asturias", by Isaac Albéniz [played by Juan Quesada] featured prominently, providing mood and emotional context. Spanish guitar becomes an internal symbol for the conflict between romantic and pragmatic views of the world.

I don't want to describe too much of the action of this movie, because to do so would be to spoil the delight of discovery; I do, however, want to extoll its virtues and suggest to you that you'd like to see it. Let me know what you think.

Review #9 – The Cup

2008-10-21T22:50:00.000-07:00

Somehow I managed not to see this film until now; I've owned a copy for a while [procurred from the same cheap bin as The Spanish Prisoner!... see below], but have left it on my shelf. The Cup [Phorpa], as you might already know, is the first film from Bhutan... although it is set in India, with predominantly Tibetan characters, and with funding from Australia.

I showed the second film made in Bhutan at Cinema CNC about 4 years ago: Travellers and Magicians... it was very popular with our audience, for many of the same reasons that The Cup works... it doesn't try too hard, it shows a good story, and it involves the audience. The Cup's [and Travellers and Magicians', for that matter!] director, Khyentse Norbu, is a Buddhist monk, so has an insider's vision... he also has some screen cred, having worked as a consultant on Bernardo Bertolucci's Little Buddha. He filmed in 16mm and then blew it up to 35mm, because of budgetary constraints. Many of the players are real-life monks or trainee monks, giving the film a priceless realistic look that one defies any Hollywood budget to replicate. The film stock, the players, and the gorgeously beautiful setting lend a sense of documentary to The Cup, and this is precisely the element that makes this, and films like it, particularly appealing. We watch films from distant places precisely because we want to be taken there, at least vicariously, for an hour-and-a-half.

The Cup reveals both the sacred and the quotidian of these men's lives, all overshadowed by the context of the Tibetans' exile in India. This monumental issue is not ignored; it is merely treated as just another part of the reality of the monks' existence. Two young men are expected at the monastery, having been smuggled out of Tibet, through Nepal to India; the Abbot worries that they will not make it. Meanwhile, two of the current crop of apprentices are revealed to be soccer-mad [the Cup of The Cup is the World Cup, particularly the 1998 version]. Much effort is expended to see the various games. One character, Orgyen [Jamyang Lodro] is obsessed; he wears a homemade Ronaldo [the Brazillian great] jersey under his monk's robes. It becomes necessary, to Orgyen and others, that they get the services of a satelite dish and television for the final, between Brazil and France. Orgyen is cheering for France [a surprise, considering his outfit], because "France has supported the cause of Tibet." Getting a dish is doubly-complicated, because they need money and they need permission, neither of which seems to be forthcoming.

This quest pushes the narrative forward, but much of the movie deals with the day-to-day lives of the characters: we see them at prayers, at meals, at work, at play. While one might have unrealistically romantic notions of the divinity of these individuals from a distance, they are delightfully human up close, falling asleep while chanting, passing notes back and forth, playing tricks, and really, really liking soccer. The integration of the new boys with the old tells a lot about this community; there are tests and pitfalls, but there is a refreshing lack of testosterone-laden challenges here. It is altogether pleasant to watch 93 minutes of almost exclusively male action that doesn't include punching anyone in the face. The younger monks biggest fear is the Abbot's enforcer, Geko, [Orgyen Tobgyal], who turns out to be a bit of a marshmallow underneath his stern countenance.

While this movie is a little slow [the director said at Sundance that it was okay if people fell asleep], The Cup is a compelling narrative slice-of-life, a life that is completely unfamiliar, but worthy of examination.

Review #8 – Oldboy

2008-10-20T23:43:00.000-07:00

Woo-wee!... I just turned off the DVD player, closing down the amusement park ride that is Oldboy, Chan-wook Park's profoundly disturbing and violent film. And like being shaken-up by an amusement ride, one is both relieved and disappointed when the end comes... let's take this baby up again! or perhaps not.

I stood next to Chan-wook Park at a reception given by the Japanese embassy at the Venice Film Festival; he was there showing [and being rewarded for] Lady Vengeance [Chinjeolhan geumjassi], the third in the trilogy of vengeance films of which Oldboy is the second – the first is Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance [Boksuneun naui geot]. The reception included some very lovely snacks and beverages and many, many speeches in both Japanese and Italian, neither language familiar to either of us [so it seemed]... and it is apparently impolite to eat or drink while the speeches are taking place, so the crowd stood attentively listening, some comprehending, some not so much. We made sympathetic eyebrow gestures at one another, and I looked forward to trying to chat with him, but he was whisked away after about 45 minutes. After about an hour, I took a discreet sip from my glass of wine... I am pretty sure that I got away with it, but I haven't been invited back. I am not sure why I am telling this story, except to suggest that there is a normal human consciousness behind the mayhem that we are confronted with in Oldboy... if I were just trying to puff up my own importance by talking about this event, I would have pointed out that Hayao Miyazaki was at the reception, too, but that would be just dropping names, so I won't.

Oldboy opens with Dae-su Oh on a bench in a police station; it is a rainy night, and he is drunk and beligerent. After his friend, No Joo-hwan, bails him out, he goes outside, phones home from a phone booth, and disappears. We next see him in what looks like a slightly-scruffy motel room, which turns out to be a prison where he is kept for 15 years. When he is let out, the audience has as little insight into the nature of his imprisonment as he does. Without giving too much away, it turns out that he had 5 days to find out who has done this to him and why.

Dae-su Oh has spent his 15 years getting into phenomenal shape, learning stuff from television, and developing an almost-insatiable thirst for vengeance [we could see that coming, couldn't we?]. He is pleasing as a character, because we see his development from a buffoon into a sharply-defined and cunning agent of violent retribution.

This narrative transcends the dully clichéd genre of "one man's revenge" [look to pulp westerns, spy dramas, and many Hollywood star vehicles for examples] because the person responsible for his captivity is a worthy adversary, cunning too, and one step ahead to boot.

This film is extremely violent, with many creative uses of force and common household tools, but the plot dictates the violence, not the other way around... there is nothing unnecessary, and there is nothing particularly easy to watch, or listen to. I have seen all three of the films in this triumverate of retribution and must say that Chan-wook Park is a master of squirm; just when one must look away, the sound of the event predominates... in fact, the camera seems to shy away from the most extreme moments, leaving us with a soundscape that personalizes the violence... if you have to imagine it, then you are complicit in the manufacture of the brutality.

That there is a love story in this film helps viewers to sympathize with Dae-su Oh, even while he is expressing his fury. While the relationship might seem unlikely, we aren't given any reason to question it, and it is this relationship that provides the most chilling twist in this already-labyrinthine story. As more is revealed, both the viewer and Dae-su Oh are kept off-balance... shouldn't more information start providing certainty? Not here, at least for a while.

Oldboy is unlike anything one is likely to see in North America [including a sushi scene that would make the SPCA go on alert], mainly because the filmmaker has the confidence both to let his story reveal itself and to give his audience credit for the intelligence to follow it. Part of the attraction is that one is compelled to try to figure out a puzzle that is impossible to figure out. What a ride.

Review #7 – The Spanish Prisoner

2008-10-19T22:42:00.000-07:00

I love the cheap-bin at our local video store; while there is plenty of crap, the opportunity to find a gem or six makes the bin worth looking through. I particularly like it when it is obvious that the store has pulled all the poor-renting film; regardless of virtue they will be dumped if enough folks don't rent them. My tastes are, by most people's standards, eclectic; therefore, I stand a pretty good chance of finding good stuff, even in a fairly picked-over bin.

On a recent foray, I grabbed The Spanish Prisoner, David Mamet's acclaimed 1997 production. I must express a prejudice: I love David Mamet's work, especially the writing... he's penned such diverse works as The Verdict, Wag the Dog, The Untouchables, Ronin, Hoffa, Glengarry Glen Ross, State and Main, and House of Games...

As with other Mamet works, the strength of The Spanish Prisoner is the dialogue. Mamet spends about as much time thinking about realism as Alfred Hitchcock ever did; that is to say, not much... this type of cinematic formalism is an acquired taste, I suppose, but I like a filmmaker who give me credit for knowing that I am watching a film and that someone is leading me along... if reality is a virtue, I'll go outside and take a look...

Mamet's craft best expresses itself in what his characters say: one interchange, for example... Joe Ross: "Funny old world." Susan Ricci: "Funny old world? Dog my cats!" Joe Ross: "Dog my cats indeed." What does this mean? I don't know, but it's fun. He has other characters spout such worthies as "Worry is like interest paid in advance on a debt that never comes due" [George Lang]; "We must never forget that we are human, and as humans we dream, and when we dream we dream of money" [Lang, again]; "Beware of all enterprises which require new clothes" [and again]; "Always do business as if the person you're doing business with is trying to screw you, because he probably is. And if he's not, you can be pleasantly surprised" [Jimmy Dell].

The title of this piece comes from a long-con... "oldest con in the world", as one of the detectives says... I doubt this; I am sure there are cons pre-dating the existence of Spain, but I quibble needlessly. [If you don't know what is meant by con, click the link] I am sure of pre-existing cons because they seems elemental to human nature; we recognize that Joe, the nice-guy central character played by Cambell Scott, is in a heap-o-trouble right from the outset, precisely because he IS a nice-guy. Joe has developed a mysteriously labelled "Process" that will allow the company he works for to "control the world market". We are pretty sure that things aren't what they seem, but in what way? Can Joe trust anyone? Probably not... but he does.

The movie opens on a junket to a mysterious Carribean location; Joe is with his boss, Mr. Klein, his friend, George, and his secretary, Susan, none of whom seem completely trustworthy. While on the island, he meets Jimmy, who definitely is not what he seems. There are mysterious packages, mysterious relatives, mysterious other guests, mysterious passers-by... after a while, everyone seems worthy of our suspicions. Poor Joe... it takes quite a bit to shake him; in fact, viewers might want to give him a shake, because he's so significantly naive. Scott plays his convincingly, though, as a man so lost in his formulae and figures that the reality of his existence escapes him... it isn't until actual menace slaps him in the face that he reacts, and, once awakened, he uses his analytic ability to work out the problem.

Without giving away too much of the plot I will say that the story resolves itself, somewhat, but one can't help hearing a faint chuckle from the filmmaker, especially when there appear to be significant holes in the ending; perhaps he's laughing at our need for any sort of resolution. And any discussion of story-arc conventions will just ruin the joy of this film, which is just watching and hearing smart words coming from characters we want to hear from... how refreshing. This film's relatively obvious low budget is part of the charm; one gets the impression that these talented people made this movie because they wanted to, and their dedication comes through.

Review #6 – Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist

2008-10-13T23:00:00.000-07:00

There is good stuff and not-so-good stuff in Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist. A lame opening for a review, I guess, but reflective of how I am feeling an hour and a half after leaving the theatre... it is so much easier to review a film that can be raved about [have you seen Lives of Others?]... or one that cannot be raved about [don't get me started about Nacho Libre... how can you make an unexciting, unfunny film about Lucha Libre?]... but I digress, often.

NaNIP has, at its core, a good story; it is adapted from a novel by Rachel Cohn, and I think that some of the difficulties come from the filmmakers' trying to keep true to the text. For future reference, note that film scripts run at about a page a minute. Cohn's novel is 192 minutes long. NaNIP: the movie is 90 minutes long. Something has to give.

There are any number of good side issues in this movie: the gay friends; the bandmates (same thing); the lost-drunk-friend-who-needs-to-be-found-before-the-story-can-be-resolved (wow, a lot of hyphens!... I do love me some punctuation); the mysteriously (dis)appearing band; life in the 'burbs vs. the CITY; the bitchy ex-girl friend; the loser ex-boyfriend; the influential father; et cetera... you get the picture... any number of good side issues, but too many of this good thing; choose one or two and get on with the show.

That being said there is much to like in NaNIP [I like this acronym and will keep using it]; the characters are sympathetic and interesting, including the myriad of friends. The music is tremendous; in fact, there could be more focus on the music... many movies cavalierly jam songs in at every opportunity so that the soundtrack can be amazing, but this movie is rife with motivation for putting in another song.

What is this movie about, you ask? Whoops, I've made it a fair way into this review without saying much about the plot. Nick (Michael Cera) has been dumped by his girl, Tris (Alexis Dziena). He doesn't want to leave the house. His bandmates (Aaron Yoo, Rafi Gavron) make him, because they have a gig. He meets Norah (Kat Dennings) at the gig. She has had a crush-from-a-distance on him for a while, because of the spiffy mixed-tapes [actually CDs] that he made for his undeserving ex-girlfriend. They run around New York, looking for the elusive band, Where's Fluffy, and Caroline (Ari Graynor), Norah's drunk and lost friend. Any more description would constitute a spoiler, and, while I have serious reservations about this movie, I don't want to spoil it for you. It is entertaining and worth a look, but I know that I am in trouble when I start re-editing a movie in my head while I am watching it.

One other note: I would like to nominate NaNIP for a best-use-of-a-Yugo in a full-length feature film award. Nothing says fun like a ratty car from a country that no longer exists! [I used to own a Lada].

Review #5 – American Teen

2008-10-12T13:16:00.000-07:00

Last night the second installment of Cinema CNC's Fall Season 2008 took place. On display was American Teen, Nanette Burstein's latest effort. It was well-received by our audience, which was decently-sized, considering that it is the Thanksgiving weekend.

The film is an entertaining depiction of life for a very specific set of teens: white, middle-class, middle-American youngsters with few enough external anxieties to stimulate them that they can concentrate on themselves [as opposed to kids with urban or geographic disadvantages... the inner-city or extreme remoteness, for instance]. You can probably hear some elements of my reluctance to fully endorse this effort; while an interesting film, these folks can hardly be held up as representative of all American teens... this is no Up Series [Michael Apted's brilliant growing-up-British document]. There is one black face in this film, and no Hispanic, Asian, or anybody "other" to give a nod to balance, other than the fact that some of the kids live in big houses [upper middle-class] and some kids live in small houses [lower middle-class], whooee.

Having voiced this concern, I will now reveal that I found the film oddly effective; I experienced being transported almost 30 years in time, remembering what is was like to be in high school: I felt the picked-on kids' pain; I felt indignant at the actions of some and gloried in the bravery of others; I developed a crush on Hannah; I looked around for someone smaller to stuff into a locker... all in all, I identified with this film because I lived it. Sneaky, eh?

The four main characters are an interesting mix: Megan, the popular-girl/ colossal bitch; Colin, the jock nice-guy; Jake, the acne-suffering geek; and Hannah, the outsider/ alt. girl. These depictions, of course, will strike a chord with any reader who reads this and attended high school in North America... we know these people... we are these people. And they are more complex than they appear... Megan keeps layering on the meanness, but an event from her past mitigates [but does not excuse] some of her actions... Colin, the thinnest-developed of the characters, has a dad who, when he isn't pressuring Colin to do well at basketball so that he can get a college scholarship, performs as an Elvis impersonator at the local Ramada... Jake might be geeky, but he isn't nerdy; he's oddly brave in his quest to meet girls, despite his heart-rending anxiety about his spotty complexion... and Hannah is a free-spirited, smart, and engaging young woman, who, despite her cranky mother's telling her "you're not special", is so obviously special, and so obviously constrained by living in Warsaw, Indiana, that one cannot help but cheer for her... did I tell you I had a crush? Of course, it is revealed [and glossed over] that she is under medical supervision for her dark thoughts, and it is alluded that her mom has a psychological inability to cope, but in this soup of homogenized middle-america, this character is refreshing.

Having expressed concern about the over-all representativeness of this movie, I must also express concern at the stageyness of it. The characters are so aware of the camera, indeed so obviously playing to it, that one is a bit uncomfortable at times. Some of the scenes appear to be "historical recreations", because the actions are too coordinated and the camera is in precisely the right spot too often for any other explaination [except, perhaps, clairvoyance]. This effort might make the film more genuinely entertaining, but it detracts from the notion that we are seeing the inside of a world that, even if we were once insiders, is unfamiliar to us. One gets the impression that we are seeing "teens for foreigners", much like one might go to a Flamenco show in Madrid... it is real, in-as-much-as they are really dancing and really wearing the outfits, and for 30 euros, including your first glass of wine, you can experience it, too.

There are real teen actions here, too: hanging out with friends, parties, school, good actions, bad actions, cruelty, triumph... and in many ways this is enough to redeem this film. The director spent a whole year in Warsaw, filming hundreds of hours of action, which gives us an insight into the thoughts and actions of a specific group of young people. The fact that I had a shudder [or two] of recognition tells me that, for all the artifice, this movie tells important truths.

Review #4 – And When Did You Last See Your Father?

2008-10-05T12:33:00.000-07:00

This was the first film of the Fall 2008 Cinema CNC season, and it was a great choice, if I must say so myself.

When I read the description and some other reviews, I had some reservations –– is it maudlin? slow? trite? –– because, even though the writers were saying nice things, I sensed some reservations and, rightly, was suspicious. I am happy to report, for those who might consider this opinion worthy, that these suspicions are unwarranted.

The strengths of And When Did You Last See Your Father? rest with the acting, the characters, and the narrative structure... and the central question of seeing, really seeing, is consistently addressed. Thus, we have a film in which the three major constructors–– original author, director, and actors –– all do their jobs admirably... how refreshing.

Blake Morrison wrote the autobiographical account and is, therefore, responsible for the creation of believable characters, especially the father, played by Jim Broadbent, and the son, played by Colin Firth [and by Bradley Johnson as a young boy, and Matthew Beard as a teen... significant contributions in their own right]. The dad, Arthur, comes across as, variably, both sympathetic and unsympathetic... I am quite sure that I would like to meet him at a party, on one hand, but I am also equally convinced that I would not like to be related to him. The son, Blake, toys with our sympathies, too... he seems like he needs a boot in the butt sometimes, but at other times I found myself physically cringing on his behalf.

The acting in this film is superb. Colin Firth has developed his acting chops nicely, and now is atractive in more substantial ways that merely having once been Mr. Darcy [yes, I can hear you: "but he was THAT Mr. Darcy" (swoon)]. Jim Broadbent is inspired in his depiction of Arthur... I know that the word "inspired" usually denotes a certain scene-stealing quality, but I assure you that his inspiration is in quietly depicting this very-human man [as opposed to what is often on offer in the moving pictures] and leaving the audience to make critical determinations. A nod, too, to Juliet Stevenson for her role as Kim Morrison, mother and wife to the two central characters... and long-suffering she appears to be.

I must also give praise for the casting of this film: each of the characters that is supposed to be related [or might be... watch it and find out] looks like they are related. If you told me that Colin Firth is Jim Broadbent's boy, I would believe you ... other than the fact that there is only 11 years between their dates-of-birth. This is even more alarming for Juliet Stevenson... she is only 4 years older that Colin Firth! She does appear relatively youthful, but it is testament to the professionalism of the cast that these seeming discrepancies are skillfully overcome.

The director, Anand Tucker, structured his film in such a way that character is revealed carefully. The film jumps back and forth between earlier, formative moments and the present time of Arthur's decline. In doing so, our sympathies shift, and what could have been a trite condemnation of a boorish father, or an annoying whine of a privileged, but picked-on, child becomes a significant exploration of a complex relationship. by the time that the end of the film comes, the audience is quite ready for the central question posited by the title to be illuminated, and answered.

Watch this film... then phone someone you miss.

Film Night: Girls Rock! and Hell on Wheels

2008-09-28T12:47:00.000-07:00

My friend, Bryndis, from Meow Records [best independent record shop in Canada, according to the CBC... and we believe them] wanted to have a movie night to raise funds for her local attempt to start a women's rollerderby league. We hosted the event at Cinema CNC... the turnout was a little light, but the films were a lot of fun. Bryndis chose them, and I must say, I approve.

Girls Rock! follows the exploits of participants at a form-a-band camp for young women [8 to 18] that takes place annually in Portland, Oregon, and is hosted by a number of top-flight members of indie bands from around the Pacific Northwest of the USA. We closely follow four of the campers: Laura, a death-metal-loving, well-spoken, adopted, 15-year-old Korean-American with some serious self-loathing issues; Misty, a 18-year-old recent inmate of a secure, lock-down facility [for drugs and gang activities,it seems], who is also homeless and in need of a place to fit in; Palace, an 8-year-old already experiencing conflict between worrying about how she looks versus having self-knowledge and self-worth [she also possesses heavy metal chops, both her sneer and her howl are worthy of the genre]; and Amelia, a 10-year-old geek-girl with a strong sense of her musical identity [anarchic], but who has serious self-image issues [and is currently writing a 14 installment musical cycle about her chihuahua, Pippi].

The girls form bands [each of our subjects is in a different band], write songs, learn instruments [Misty had never touched a bass before, for instance], and perform for an audience of 750... after five days together! This is quite the experiment and quite the movie, too.

The core message of Girls Rock! is inspiring... the girls are surprisingly successful [no, not because they are girls, but because they have 5 days to do something that most of us would find pretty near impossible... don't get me into trouble, here], but the cruel realities of growing up female in North America come screaming through the narrative. One criticism I would have of this film is that some of this is pointed out a little too obviously in unnecessary statistical intertitling... let the women tell their stories; they are vitally interesting enough to carry the movie... also, let's hear a little from some of the cousellors... they seem really interesting and have almost no voice, here. A little bit of back-story about how some of these strong women succeeded in an environment hostile to women's success would serve to give modelling for the audience that the campers are, obviously given the results, privy to. One telling scene has power-punk, jazzy-rocker, LKN [she's a little hard to describe] giving a lunch-time concert, modelling for the campers the stance of a strong, loud woman who takes no shit from nobody... the looks on the young women's faces is priceless, and the influence that is shown in subsequent performances demonstrates how inspiring she is. It would be valuable to share more of this inspiration with the viewing audience. The bands involved are Sleater Kinney The Gossip Nun Factory Pocket Parade LKN Swan Island Pom Pom Meltdown The Wind Up Birds Backbone

Rather than have me prattle on about this film, I will just say, watch Girls Rock! ... it will educate you, entertain you, and convince you... let's start a camp around here...

The second film of the Rollergirls double-feature was Hell on Wheels. This film follows the development of a women-only rollerderby league in Austin, Texas. For those of you who weren't born long enough ago to have experienced the rollerderby on TV [we only had two channels where I grew up... and it was 40 below in the winter... you had to watch!... besides, it was a lot of fun: Skinny Minny and Rupert the Bear and all the characters], this was a chaotic pseudo-sport that grew up earlier in the 20th century and eventually died out in the mid-seventies. Its resurection might have begun in a somewhat exploitive fashion, but it quickly turned into something else. A collosal weasel named Dan got the ball rolling, but when he failed to follow through, the captains of the four teams carried the ball forward and rollerderby is re-born.

Beside the trip down memory lane for this reviewer, this film is fascinating for a couple of other reasons: human dynamics and politics... and it is hard to divide these two. The story arc follows some documentary conventions, but things get really interesting when things fall apart. What I particularly enjoyed was how much of the story was straight from the participants... including some dramatically ironic utterences. The audience gets to know significant information about some of the principals, including messages that I am pretty sure they aren't aware they are transmitting.

As with most earnestly-begun amateur enterprises, problems errupt, chiefly because of good old-fashioned power politics. The captains try to maintain control of all aspects of the rollerderby, seemingly exploiting the goodwill and pocketbooks of the skaters. There are a number of rancorous meetings, resulting, eventually, in a break-away league [I don't want to ruin the movie for you by describing all the interludes leading up to this... see for yourself].

What is particularly telling for this viewer is that two distinct models for the leagues emerge: one modelled on capitalistic principles; and one modelled on socialistic principles. As a real-life experiment in power dynamics, this is fascinating... and much more realistic for an audience made jaded by an abundance of so-called "reality" on television. And the message that comes from this experiment is, hopefully, obvious: socialism wins, socialism wins, socialism wins. I don't think that this is the intention of the filmmakers, but the model with the flatter management structure and more buy-in from the participants is more fun, more fun to watch, and more successful! Take that, Donald Trump, you bastard!

Watch this film; its a lot of fun... who knows, next thing, you'll be strapping on the skates, putting on the helmet, and jamming like a mad fiend.

Story of Stuff

2008-09-19T16:53:00.000-07:00

Here's another great little show, called The Story of Stuff, where Annie Leonard gives a compelling account of... well ... STUFF! And, since my blog is called "stuff I am thinking", it seems appropriate that one finds out where all this stuff comes from.

Thank you to my and Bergman's friend, Val, for pointing out both this and the subject of the last post.

Her presentation is inspirational for two reasons: one, the content [watch it...]; and two, the way it is delivered. A lot of public speakers could learn a great deal by seeing her in action.

Homegrown Revolution

2008-09-19T16:46:00.001-07:00

If you've been by our place, or seen the post about "big-ass veggies", you'll know that we have a fairly abundant garden... I am pretty sure that we produce our own oxygen, and then some.

We get quite a bit of production out of our yard... fruits, vegs, flowers, without trying especially hard. Of course, there is more that could be done; I'd like to build a greenhouse and some coldframes, for instance.

Here's a video, called Homegrown Revolution, about a family that made some radical changes, with great results. They have the advantage of living in Southern California [and the advantage of being a bit nutty, too!], but their example is inspiring. On a tenth of an acre, they manage to produce 6000 lbs. of fruits and vegetables each year!

Sandwiches and Proust

2008-09-17T11:07:00.000-07:00

The CBC [Canadian Broadcorping Castration... whoops, Canadian Broadcasting Corporation] has a show called "Sounds Like Canada" [which, if I heard Kevin Sylvester correctly, is going to be cancelled in the next couple of weeks!... what is up with these people... don't they know that, to quote a person close to me, "change is bad"?], and on that show messages from listeners are being played, detailing the sandwiches they consider delicious... after a few episodes traditional niceties were left behind, and now we are hearing about such delights as peanut butter and bologna, mustard and garlic, red onion and a variety of substances, et cetera, ad nauseum... but only because this listener is not the originator of the sandwich causing the slight rising of the bile. I am sure that, to each of the presenters, these concoctions are truly tasty and comforting [I must confess a liking for cheddar cheese and raspberry jam sandwiches, which, while mild on the disgust-o-meter, have elicited groans from others when offered as a dandy option]. One common denominator seems to be that, to a person, the peculiarly arranged alchemy of these productions was arrived at while still relatively young... bringing to mind the Proust maxim, "what is patriotism but the love of [I've also heard "memory of"] good things one ate in childhood." I'm not sure that an army could be mounted on the basis of a shared love of alfalfa sprouts and raisins on whole wheat [or even the simple madeleine, the biscuit of Proust's longing for temps perdu], but I do know that I will eat a great variety of foods I've been eating since young that, if I were introduced to them as an adult, I would find disgusting... or at least uninteresting. Most of these, for me, fit in the uninteresting category, macaroni and cheese [the packaged kind, of course] with a lot of Heinz's Ketchup on it, or wheat-puff chocolate squares... both of which I enjoy, but wouldn't eat now if I hadn't eaten them then... unless necessary for politeness' sake.

Review #3a

2008-09-13T00:15:00.000-07:00

Melinda just reminded me of a great line in The House Bunny: "The eyes are the nipples of the face." You just think about that for a while.

Review #3 – The House Bunny

2008-09-12T13:36:00.000-07:00

My first two reviews might have given the impression of a certain elitism in my movie selections, and this impression might, most of the time, be correct; however, while I love great movies and revel in the obscure and stylish, I will also watch pretty much anything.

I review films for our local CBC morning show and am limited to what is currently available in our one, six-screen cinema, which is treated by the programming lords as if it were a suburban mall cinema outside a major urban centre [with the implied choice for those who are interested to hop on public transit for a few minutes and go to an alternative screening] instead of the only game in town for a reasonably-sized small city [also ignoring the fact that people in outlying communities might be inclined to travel HERE for some greater options than they might find at home]... but I rant.

Last week, the pickings were thin, because other reviews had already been done for the "better" films available, so I chose... The House Bunny. It sounds egregious in descriptions, but I thought, "how bad can it be?" and went, dragging along Melinda, who has a graduate degree in gender studies... you can see where this is going, can't you?

I will say, up front [or in the middle, as the case may be] that this film was both better and worse than I expected. Better, for the most part, because of the groans coming from the seat next to me... did I mention that she teaches Women's Studies? [a fine course, and there are still seats available for those who are looking to pick up some interesting college credits]... also better, because Anna Faris is relatively good and has some funny lines... of course, this is in comparison with the train wreck that is going on around her.

The House Bunny is worse than I expected, because I truly felt that there is room in the campus comedy and ditzy girl genres for something new, or at least subverting, or at least parodying [especially when Faris is most noted for her part in the Scary Movie franchise], and we don't find it here... yes, there is the message that being a smart girl is a good thing... BECAUSE IT WILL ATTRACT BOYS!... c'mon, folks, haven't we made it past this? And we get to this message after we have been subjected to the notion that the sorority Faris works to save is a sisterhood of losers because the women in it are all homely or funny-looking in some way... it doesn't ruin the movie for you to be told that their first victory [against the snooty, pretty girls] involves makeup, new outfits, and a lot of hairstyling action... uuuuuuuuunh!

One gendered aspect of note is that almost all of the primary roles in this movie are women's roles, heroes, villains, old grumpy antagonist, etc., while the men's roles are primarily types: good boy, bad boy, sensitive boy, etc. This reversal of the usual order is not, I am afraid, sufficient to redeem the effort.

This notion of a central good effort in this movie is worth pondering; I felt that there were two authors of this movie [and it turns out on examination that two people did write it... we should hunt down the evil one and give her (both writers are women) a good shake]... it seemed like we could hear the voice alternating... on one side, the little angel saying, "let's have a movie where all the significant parts are played by women", and on the other shoulder, we find the one in the little red suit saying, "Yeah, and let's make sure they have some righteous tits on them! Yee haw! Party on! Whooo, whoo, whoo!" And from this description, you should be able to tell who got more attention [and secured more funding] for the project.

It is a challenge to filmmakers to make a movie primarily about women that doesn't have as central concerns a) attracting boys, b) personal appearance, and c) subverting other women's efforts to get ahead... all that, and make it a movie that we'd like to see... the challenge still remains, because it wasn't fulfilled in The House Bunny.

Bendito Machine

2008-09-11T13:55:00.001-07:00

Watch more cool animation and creative cartoons at aniBoom

re: Humans!

2008-09-11T13:52:00.000-07:00

The author of this animation is also the author of my all-time favourite on Aniboom, called The Bendito Machine, which I will post next [above]. Check them out, in case anyone is wondering why Aniboom is on my Links list.

HUMANS!

2008-09-11T13:51:00.001-07:00

Watch more cool animation and creative cartoons at aniBoom

Gargoyles!

2008-09-04T21:52:00.000-07:00

I was looking through the photos from my trip to Europe, trying to find some reason to show a few of them off... and then thought that perhaps somebody out there might be interested in the carved beings of Notre Dame Cathedral... so here are a few shots of our petrified friends:

Missed an important one

2008-09-03T20:48:00.000-07:00

In trying to give Bergman some street cred, here's a dandy photo:

We went to Jasper

2008-09-03T11:14:00.000-07:00

We went to Jasper for a little break... saw some sights, relaxed, ate good dinners, built a dogukshuk [like an inukshuk, only canine], went in an ice cave, and had some fun... see photos:

Review #2: Last Year at Marienbad

2008-08-24T22:35:00.000-07:00

Alain Resnais is a very weird man... there, I've said it, and now we can get on with the review.

The director of L'Année dernière à Marienbad challenges his audience in a way unthinkable in contemporary mass-market cinema... and by all descriptions he expected people to pay to see his film. Nowadays, a similarly adventurous movie would be funded by a foundation and presented at a museum or gallery for the admiring few... at best it would be given an "arthouse" label and consigned to the obscurity that that suggests.

Resnais has a strong connection to literature, especially the nouveau roman movement... [he was also married to Florence Malraux, daughter of André Malraux]. The screenplay for his 1959 film Hiroshima, mon amour was written by Marguerite Duras; for this film Resnais turned to the master of enigmatic non-linear fiction, Alain Robbe-Grillet.

For some, watching Last Year at Marienbad could be trying; the use of off-putting camera angles in the opening sequence – with a minor-key repetitive score, and a vocal track that drifts into and out of comprehensibility – gives either a sense of anticipation because it is obvious that one is about to witness something excitingly different, or a sense of foreboding because it is obvious that one is about to be subjected to something weird. Both are legitimate responses, but I will challenge those who would put themselves in the second camp upon seeing this movie to suggest that it does not in some significant way haunt them... if anything, Last Year at Marienbad, gives one something to talk about and inspires a willingness to do just that.

And I've come this far without really saying anything about this film, so I must rectify this problem. There are three main characters: X, A, and M. X [a man] is trying to convince A [a woman] that they have met in the past. A seems unwilling or unable to accept this, but seems unwilling, also, to put X off completely. M may or may not be A's husband, but he is a gambler, for sure, and X and he play a number of variations of the same game of chance, with the same result. As the show goes on, one becomes both confused and convinced: confused because it isn't always apparent whether one is in the past, the present, or in a fiction of one of the character's making at any given time; and convinced that something has gone on between X and A [an affair? a kiss?] and that they do have affection for one another. All three characters have at least two sides presented: M seems both objectionable and sympathetic; X seems both passionately interested and a little creepily obsessed; A seems both vitally engaged and completely uninterested [while being played by the quite scrumptious Delphine Seyrig, dressed to the nines in Coco Chanel creations (uncredited)].

What is apparent is that this film is made by a consummately gifted filmmaker; the cinematography is stunning [sharp focus black and white], the mise en scène is brilliantly constructed, and the formalistic blocking of movement within the frame gives a sense of unreality to a very conventional cinematic plot: boy met girl, lost her [perhaps in a card game?], sees her again and tries to get her back, seems to fail, seems to succeed, all with the brooding presence of her other suitor casting a shadow over the whole [non] affair.

The film ends [yes it does, for those who might find it slightly torturous... it is only a bit over 90 minutes long] and one is left wondering what really happened... did something happen? Of course, one knows that something did happen, one watched this film and it will stick in memory for a long time. Watch it. Let me know what you think... I liked it.

Euro – JRTs

2008-08-20T23:13:00.000-07:00

Those who are in the know know that my dog, Bergman, is a Jack Russell Terrier. While I was traveling, I took some shots of Jack Russells being themselves... and there's one bonus shot from Vienna that's a sassy reminder to not leave your sausages in the park... The first two are from Paris, the second two are from Aix-en-Provence, and the fifth one is already introduced.

Squirrel Meat

2008-08-19T23:06:00.000-07:00

I was looking through my many photos, trying to find something to share... how to group them? how to make little photo-essays to entertain and amuse? Having failed to be inspired... sometimes a lot of photos remains just that, a lot of photos, for a while, but I did find this inexplicable offering, worthy of a post.

In the rather nicely-arranged window display of a butchershop [boucherie-charcuterie] amongst the sausages and cuts and the more-expected bottles of wine, I saw the following:

Tastes like chicken? Does this explain those little brown-paper-wrapped packages people were sneaking out of the establishment?

If a horsemeat shop is a chevalerie, would this be a écureuilerie? Inquiring minds would like to know.

What kind of wine is good with squirrel? Evidently, rosé... those sophisticated French folks, eh. In the hills around these here parts, we're more likely to serve it with some homemade porchclimber...

Some little movies I made

2008-08-17T12:50:00.000-07:00

While I was traveling around, I took about 1400 pictures [no, I won't just put them into a single, long post!]... also, I shot a few little movies... here are two that seem worth taking a look at. I tried to upload another one, but I think that it is too big for Blogger... I will try again, as it is pretty funny. For now, though, check these ones out.

The first is of the Moulin de Trobodec at Pointe de Beg an Fri in Brittany. I shot the little movie, because the still photos didn't seem to capture the essence of the mill:

The second film is an homage to the Lumiere brothers. It is called Train Arriving at the Station at Chambery:

You can compare it with the original, Train Arriving at the Station at La Ciotat.

Review #1: Classe Tous Risques

2008-08-15T11:17:00.000-07:00

This dandy film [I'll get the opinion out right in front] by Claude Sautet is a gem that has been a little lost in film history, being released in 1960, the same year and with a star in common [Jean-Paul Belmondo, but here in a supporting role] as Jean-Luc Godard's Breathless, and we've all heard of that one...

While Sautet [better know for 1992's Un Coeur en Hiver... a dandy flick, too] is paying tribute to American gangster films with his take on the "honour among thieves" theme, this film did not hit on enough of the theoretic notes of la Nouvelle Vague, [the New Wave] to be noticed, either in 1960 or in subsequent film criticism.

Abel Davos [played with vulnerable menace by Lino Ventura, an Italian-born former prize-fighter and professional wrestler who made a career out of playing thugs, heavies, and police officers...] is a wanted man, on the lam in Italy [before the days of the European Union's ease of travel between states], and feeling the heat. To complicate matters he is accompanied by a henchman [Raymond, played by Stan Krol], which is expected, and by his wife and two sons, which is unexpected... and it seems that he cares for his family life more than his life of crime... except he needs one last big heist to secure their return to France... and in the crime drama genre, we all know what one last job means, don't we?

Not to gloss over important details but also not wanting to ruin this film for you, I will jump ahead to when Abel waits in Nice for his "old friends" in Paris to help him out [are there any friends in the world of crime (on film)?]... and they insult him by not coming to his rescue personally, but sending a young unknown, Eric [played by Jean-Paul Belmondo], to help him return to Paris. Can Abel trust Eric? Can his family be saved? What should be done about the apparent betrayal demonstrated by the half-hearted attempt at support? The rest of the film deals with these critical questions.

What I particularly enjoyed about this film is its dependence on character, rather than action, to tell the story. At their first introduction, most of the characters do not strike the viewer as especially sympathetic; however, I found myself both cheering for otherwise-reprehensible gangster-types and seeing the virtues of lying and revenge. Of course, this might say more about my moral ambiguity than I would like to reveal in a simple film review, but I am sure than anyone else watching this film will enjoy the notion of the vulnerable villain... Abel's hardman/ familyman duality is something we have witnessed more currently with Tony Soprano [with the added variable of the necessity of a psychiatrist]; in Sautet's work this element is played out with simplicity and grace.

The title of this film is translated into English as The Big Risk; however, Classe Tous Risques is a hard-to-translate play on words that combines tourism and insurance... both of which seem risky in this production.

Rather than prattle on, I will just say that I liked this film and hope that you will trust this judgment sufficiently to take a look at this film noir gem.

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggety-jig

2008-08-12T12:52:00.000-07:00

Well, I made it safely back to Prince George, after a rather uneventful flight from Frankfurt to Vancouver, then an overnight stay with Melinda's parents [thank you very much, B+M], then an equally uneventful flight to Prince George, where I was met by Melinda and Bergman...there was much butt wiggling and face licking, and Bergman was happy to see me, too! [hardeeharhar]. In all seriousness, it was great to be home, even though the trip was over much too soon.

After a long night's sleep in Vancouver, I took Melinda's folks out for lunch... they are a rather cheap date, because they just love Hon's on Robson [House of Noodles], and there is plenty to like, there... if you like noodles. I had egg noodles and barbequed pork in special broth. The lay-over was beneficial, as I wasn't completely jet-lagged when I got to Prince George... although, I still wouldn't volunteer to answer the hard question even today... I have cotton-batting between the ears.

I spent a couple of hours catching up with the garden... it has exploded... the past month has been hot and then cool, dry and then wet, so much growth and death has occurred. Melinda, even though a bit phobic of dirt and bugs and stuff, managed to keep most things alive during this trying period... thank you, very much for doing so [I can speak almost directly, considering the low readership of this blog!]... I know it is not your thing and I felt bad leaving you with a relatively heavy maintenance load.

This instant, I am avoiding thinking about other work that needs to be done, including preparing for the new semester... maybe tomorrow.

While the impetus to begin this blog when I did was to record the events of my trip and to keep in touch with friends during time away, I will be continuing to type away, so keep having a look, if you are interested... reviews and rants and updates will come your way.

Goodbye Frankfurt: Hello Prince George [soon]

2008-08-10T04:27:00.000-07:00

Right now, I am sitting in my friend Martin's apartment in Frankfurt, spending the last couple of hours of my holiday, waiting to go the the airport to return to Canada... while it will be good to be home and to see Melinda, this trip has gone by far too fast.

Yesterday, Martin, Arabella, Arabella's mom, and I went to Wiesbaden for the day. We saw a schloss [beautiful, with a huge park with parrots in it, situated right on the Rhine], visited the German Film Archives [where Martin currently works... they just moved into new digs and things are mildly chaotic there... but there are LOTS of films, and it was very cool to be able to visit], and visited a wine festival right in the middle of town. We had a bunch-o-wine from a number of different producers [there were only 135 or so stands there... where's the dedication to selection?]. We had originally meant to go to the monastery where The Name of the Rose was filmed, but ran out of time... I guess it is good to leave something for the next trip.

This has been an interesting voyage, because I spent so much of the time visiting people... it is quite something to have friends all over to go see; it makes a trip special to be able to share it with folks who are familiar with the sights from a local perspective. Sometimes, the draw of acquaintance takes us places we might otherwise overlook. This made me go to Brittany for the first [and not the last] time, for instance... I would like to thank Rosemary and Frederic, Nicole and her family, Claudio and the myriad Massini's, and Martin and Arabella for making my visits so dandy... without these friends, this would have been just another grand tour of the major sites and not the participatory experience that it has been.

Next stop, Vancouver, then Prince George on Monday!

And Now... Frankfurt

2008-08-08T06:57:00.000-07:00

The last little bit of my trip seems to be taking on a bit of "if it is Friday, this must be Rome" sort of feel, at least in the blogosphere, but I swear it doesn't feel that way in person, although I must express alarm at the speed at which it has gone by... I will be back in Prince George in three days... hard to imagine as I listen to the bells on the cathedral here in Frankfurt strike for 4 o'clock... I've had a good time, so far. I went to the Liebiegshaus Gallery yesterday, which is the notably good sculpture museum here. Last evening, I hooked up with my friends Martin and Arabella, as well as Martin's roommate, Matthias, for some good old Swabian cooking, courtesy of Martin [who hails from the great state of Swabia, Tübingen, to be precise]... he made spaetzl with cheese, one of his specialties. We drank a bit of wine and had icecream and fruit salad for dessert.

Today, I went to the German Film Museum and the German Architecture Museum, conveniently located right next to one another... a great feature of Frankfurt is that the majority of this city's museums are located on one stretch, the Museumsufer, along the Main River, which makes getting to them and navigating around quite easy... one just gets there and decides whether fine art, sculpture, communications, film, or a whole host of other options appeals. Anywho, the Film museum had a special exhibit on Japanese animation, which was well presented. The permanent exhibit on the history of film was delightful, as always, [I've visited a few times, I must admit], but some of the items were a little dusty... get in their with a swiffer, please folks... the architecture museum had a number of exhibits, one in particular was striking: it is a display on outsider art that features architectural detail... that is, when someone a little out there designs a new world or city or state for themselves and draws it... the show is called Heterotopia and features, particularly, Willem van Genk, who makes these marvelous contraptions [he was a clockmaker by trade] for his free state. Many of the artists featured are, were, or have been in psychiatric institutions. His stuff reminded me a little of Henry Darger, about whom the movie In the Realms of the Unreal was made.

Well, I am off to go with Martin and Arabella to a friend of their's birthday party... I will let you know what happens.

Oh, and one correction... I had a brain freeze in my post about Vienna... it is spelled Grüss Gott...

Vienna

2008-08-05T07:36:00.000-07:00

As mentioned earlier I am in Vienna and now have something to report, in case anyone is interested.

I am staying at the Hotel Post, which is a surprisingly affordable place... it has been around for quite a while [and it shows a bit], but it is a three star hotel for one-to-two star prices. And the breakfast is enormous and the staff are very friendly and helpful... not that I am trying to sell you, but it is always good to know a nice place in a city, in case one would like to go there some time.

The Hotel Post is, not surprisingly, right across the street from the post office... and what a post office it is! There is the regular old post office part, a philatelic centre, a bank, a telephone centre, a museum, a lounge, and a retail outlet [they sell all kinds of stuff, from the obvious... postcards, to the not-so-obvious... televisions. And the staff are very nice.

In Vienna [perhaps in Austria?] people don't say guten morgen, guten tag, and guten abend as greetings... they almost universally say "gruss got" [god is great], but don't mean anything by it, except to be friendly, judging by its almost universal application [I can't really imagine that the rather punkish young woman at the internet cafe is particularly religious, considering some of her tattoos, but you never know].

In my time here, I have seen a lot. I've also learned a lesson about reading the fine print... I went to the Vienna Secession, to see Gustav Klimt's Beethovenfries, but it was closed, because it was Monday... important information available to me, if I had only read the fine print... the other places I considered going on that day, The Belvedere and The Kunsthistorischesmuseum... both closed on Monday... so I looked through my information [reading closely this time] and found the Leopold Museum [no, it is not full of Leopolds], which had a great display of Egon Schiele and a number of Klimts as well as a whole bunch of other stuff... then, I went across the courtyard to the Museum of Modern Art, which was tremendous, including the building itself, which is made entirely of grey basalt and looks like a big monolith, especially against the fundamentally beigey-yellow of most of the baroque buildings in Vienna.

Today, I visited St. Stephen's, climbing the 350+ stairs of the tower, then the Kunsthaus and Hundertwasser Haus, both designed by Hundertwasser, with a cool exhibit about Jean Tinguely... then I made it back to the Secession and finally to the Academy of Fine Arts for a look at Bosch's Last Judgement.... with a bit of a walk and the climb up the tower, I think that I have earned my somewhat fattening middle-european repast that I am going in search of as soon as I finish typing this post. So far, I have had a couple of dandy meals, and one good coffee break at the Cafe Central, where I had coffee [duh] and an apricot dumpling, while listening to the live piano music, ranging from the traditional... Strauss, to the other-traditional... Billy Joel... all-in-all a pleasurable experience.

Well, I am off... the next update will be from Frankfurt, as I am heading that way tomorrow.

Auf Wiedersehen!

Update - Leonard Cohen

2008-08-04T01:17:00.000-07:00

Right now, I am in Vienna, a lovely place worthy of an entry, but I have done little, yet, so I will give an update on Claudio and my evening with Leonard Cohen [oh, a quick hope that Claudio made it home okay... he should, I heard that Lufthansa settled the rotating strike with its employees... this was the only worry, especially for Lufthansa, as many members of Claudio's extended family were due to be on that flight, and I certainly wouldn't want to walk in the boots of the person who had to explain to a gaggle of Canalese and entourage why they weren't going to get on the plane.]

Leonard put on a great performance... I'd like to say that I wish I will be that captivating and sexy when I am in my seventies... hell, I wish I had Len's stuff now!

He sang 24 or 25 songs, including 6 encores... there were a number of standing ovations and much enthusiasm during the concert... I am from the school that says that people are too prone to overpraise, too prone to stand up for only decent performances, but Leonard Cohen in Rome was worth every clapped hand and every rise to the feet.... it is just unfortunate that all the tendency to puff up other performances might cheapen the truly great ones.

Cohen's band was extraordinary, especially the Spanish guitar player [I am referring to the style, but he might very well be Spanish... it seemed to be in his blood, the way he played].

The playlist included [I tried to write them all down, but lost a few in the second set and encores] Dance Me to the End of Love [the opener, a personal fave], The Future, Ain't No Cure for Love, Bird on a Wire, Everybody Knows, In My Secret Life, Who By Fire, That's No Way to Say Goodbye, Ring the Bells, Tower of Song, Susanne, Halleluiah, Democracy is Coming, I'm Your Man, Little Viennese Waltz, So Long Marianne, First We Take Manhattan, Sisters of Mercy, and Closing Time.

When we were driving in to Rome, we managed to get lost, even though we knew pretty much exactly where we were going... Italian signage sucks, but so does our sense of direction, evidently.... at one point, Claudio made a quick turn to try to rectify an obvious mis-direction, and we found ourselves on a one-way street with a stream of Roman drivers coming straight at us... and could they just let it go, as we obviously knew that we'd goofed and were pulled over to the side? Nooooo, each person slowed down and rolled down their windows and had to give two or three or four cents' worth... some of it trying to be helpful, but all of it unwanted... Doi! all it did was make more drivers behind pissed off, giving them the oportunity to give their opinion, etc. [sorry Claudio, but it is kind of funny]. We did get turned around and then moved toward the music hall [luckily, we weren't arriving just on time... we were planning to park near the venue and take public transit for sightseeing]... we could see the venue from the bridge where we were, but kept circling it... it was like it we and it were like magnets... we could approach, but could not actually make contact.... eventually, we did manage to get within sight of the music hall, but, unfortunately for later, couldn't really explain how it happened, it was just there... and, miracle of miracles, found A FREE PARKING SPOT IN ROME! [all the machines in the parking lot were out of order] I expected a band of angels to appear in a beam of light from heaven and take us up to sit at the feet of god or something... I should probably report this to the Vatican... it will go a long way towards our beatification... the Day of St. Claudio and St. Peter, July 28th... I can see it now... of course there is the problem of some other guy claiming my name, but maybe he's willing to go by "Pete". Anyways, we took the tram and the metro to the EUR, Mussolini's model neighbourhood... with wide boulevards and funky fascist architecture. It is spiffy. We saw the sights, then ate a quick dinner at a tavola calda [literally "hot table"... a cheap and decent type of place to eat in Italy], and made our way back to the concert... I haven't mentioned, yet, that it was in an outdoor amphitheatre with intimate seating for about 2800-3000 people... there wasn't a crappy seat in the house.

After the concert, our experience of approaching the hall was reversed... we couldn't get away... it was like checking into the Hotel California, only scarier, because it included Roman drivers. We circled the building for a while, turning left, turning right, going straight ahead, but always ending up swinging by where we started... there's one damned roundabout that we went 'round about 10 times... asking "how did we get here?" and remembering that we had no idea... then, suddenly, we were on the bridge, looking down at the concert hall and heading for Canale... can either of us explain how this happened? No, no we can't. Perhaps the tribulation of the concert hall is part of our road toward having statues carved of us... and Claudio's dad's trusty Ford. We zipped to Canale with the windows down, had a big old glass of grappa, and slept with Leonard Cohen induced dreams.

Venice

2008-08-02T09:49:00.000-07:00

I am having a good, if sweltering, time in Venice... even though the city is infected with tourists to a near-fatal point, it is still a lovely and beautiful place to visit.

I have seen paintings, both old and new, in the Galleria dell Accademia and the Guggenheim Venice [you figure out which is which]... I went to St. Mark's and to the Doge's Palace... I'd been to Mark's place before, but in the several times I've been to Venice, I've never ventured to the palace... and it was full value for the entry... there are a lot of paintings by the big names of Venetian art [Tintoretto, Titian, Veronese, Bellini, Carpaccio] located in the places for which they were painted, including some stunning ceilings... some of the individual panels were too big for the studio spaces the artists had, so they had to find alternative places to work. The capper of the tour of the palace is a visit to the prison... dungeon... it was supposedly built as an improvement in conditions over the other facilities available... it still didn't look too spiffy. Anyway, you get to that side of the workings via the Bridge of Sighs... a most famous sight... I put my hand out the grill at the side, and I am sure that it will show up in about 350 tourist photos... there were a gaggle snapping away below when I was going over. The odd thing is that, unlike, say, Paris, Venice is crowded outside, but inside most sights there are not the gigantic crowds... saying that, one does have to stand in line at St. Mark's, but this seems mostly so one can be hassled for too short a skirt, uncovered shoulders, having a backpack, etc. [my skirt was acceptable... in case you were wondering].

Well, I am off to have dinner... I don't know where, yet. I have had two meals in places I have been before and liked, both a little away from the grotesqueries of tourist exploitation located near the Grand Canal. More later. Ciao!

Ciao, Canale... on to Venice

2008-07-31T08:22:00.000-07:00

I am in Venice, now, but haven't really done much, other than getting a 3 day pass for the vaporetti [advised, if you are coming here] and finding my hotel and this internet point.

My final day in Canale was both great and sad. We had lunch at Tulio's wife's mother's farm [apologies to all Tulios... in the last post I consistently spelled the name with 2 Ls]...

The lunch at Mara's mom, Victoria's, place was another exercise in excess. We had assorted antipasti [small balls of mozzarella, artichoke hearts, olives, sausage, proscuitto], then her homemade fettuccini with tomato sauce, then sausages and beef in tomato sauce, then roast beef slices with green beens, roasted peppers and roasted eggplant, then roast chicken and roast potatoes, then salad, then torte [plum], biscotti, and ice cream cake. All of this with accompanying wine, followed by coffee, grappa and limoncello. We went home afterwards and passed out. I was fine and thought that I had made it through relatively well, but hadn't figured the ice cream cake and limoncello. I was going to pass on the lemony goodness, but it turns out that Victoria made it herself... who could pass that up? and it was delicious, if coma-inducing.

We did not have dinner. Tulio, Mara, Claudio, and I drove down to the beach at San Silvestre and walked around, stopping for a coffee granita... this was a nice end to my stay in Canale. Oh, when we got back to Canale, the town was still lively, so we stopped for a beverage at The Special Bar...Claudio's son, Adrian, showed up, as did his cousin Oliver... they enjoy the Special Bar, because the barmaid is cute and the ice cream portions are gigantic. It was sad to leave today.

After saying goodbye to Norma, Claudio's sister, and Rosella, Claudio's mom, Claudio drove me to the station in Bracciano where I took the train to Rome to catch the train to Venice. It was great being hosted in such style... I hope both to return and to return the favour.

Well, it is time to wander about in the 32°C weather. It seems hot, but I am not complaining, because I will soon be back in Prince George... a fine place, but not Venice. I will update some more tomorrow. Ciao for now.

All Canale All The Time!

2008-07-27T13:24:00.000-07:00

I am in Canale Monterano and having a great time. Today, we had more food than is humanly possible to eat in a lunch that lasted 4 hours. [pictures to follow... still having trouble downloading] Antipasti, two kinds of lasagne [one was expected to eat both], roast lamb, roast chicken [same as lasagne], salad, a selection of tortes [sour cherry, apricot, and I am not sure what was on the third one, as I got away with only eating two pieces]. All this was accompanied by wine by the gallon... red, white, and sparkling, as well as grappa, limoncello, and walnut liqueur from Croatia... oh, and coffee and sparkling water. I am becoming a much more rounded Peter... luckily, we do spend a lot of time walking around... yesterday, we went to Rome and toured the city on foot... we being Claudio [see picture from earlier Canale post], Claudio's son, Adrian, and me. We visited the Spanish Steps, Trevi Fountain, the Pantheon, Campo di Fiori, Piazza Navona, and the Colloseum/ Forum... then went home for a crazy big pizza dinner, courtesy of Tullio, Claudio's cousin [the one that owns the bakery, not the other cousin Tullio... and not to be confused with his brother Tullio]... I ate a lot of pizza... if I hadn't, it would have been noted and would have shamed me, somehow.

Right now, after typing, it is time for a wander around town... in the vain hope that some of the pizza and pasta and stuff will get burned off.

Tomorrow, Claudio and I are going to see Leonard Cohen in Rome... it should be a dandy show... I'll let you know... ciao!

Goodbye Aix

2008-07-20T10:48:00.000-07:00

Just a quick note to say goodbye to Aix... I am leaving tomorrow; my train leaves at 6:28, but the TGV station is a bit out of town, so I have to wake up at 4:30! Then I go to Roma via Lyon, Chambery, and Milan and get there at 8:20 pm... ouch!

Gotta go, time's up on the computer!

All Cézanne all the time

2008-07-19T10:07:00.000-07:00

Today, I had a Cézanne kind of day... I walked all over Aix, looking at the places where he ate, drank, lived, was born, died, et cetera... then I went to the Musée Granet, where they have 9 nice works by, you guessed it, Cézanne (as well as a whole museum's worth of other fine works and stuff). After this, I walked to L'Atelier Cézanne, which is the studio he designed and had built; it has all the bric-a-brac one sees in his still-life paintings and a lot of his other belongings. (Here is a link to a website, in case you don't know his work... Cézanne...) It is situated in a very nice garden (painted often by the Master) and is a great site. After L'Atelier, I walked up to Les Lauves, the prospect from which he painted Mont Sainte-Victoire (see link above for works). While at the Musée Granet, I picked up a box of little felt markers, so I took advantage of their existence and did a little drawing of the mountain... it isn't great, but I haven't done much in the way of art in a long time, and it felt good. A guy came up and looked over my shoulder at what I was doing... he made a few nice comments, and then we discussed Cézanne's reasoning in including a lot of clouds in his pictures of MSV, when, according to my new friend, there are no clouds in Provence... today, he is pretty much right... it was a scorcher. Oh, and much of this discussion was conducted in French, so I am pretty pleased with myself.

Another thing I did today is to buy some callisons... these are a specialty of Aix and are quite tasty.

It is time for dinner, which reminds me to update you about what I ate yesterday... with apologies to Melinda, I will cut and paste a section from an email I sent her: "last night, I ate a lot. I went to a Tunisian restaurant and had a great meal, starting with a variety of appetizers (cucumbers, tomatoes, tabouleh, something like baba ghanoush, a stuffed vine leaf, a little salad with carrots, apple, peppers, and a very spicy dressing), then I had lamb couscous... it came with a bunch of lovely vegetables in a broth. This was washed down with a really good rosé from Tunisia, and followed by a shredded phylo pastry stuffed with nuts and drenched in honey, and tea with mint. The portions were enormous! I waddled away from there and had to go for a very big walk before getting back to the hotel, just to relieve some pressure... I wouldn't have had dessert, except it was a menu formule, so I did."

And now I am off.

Aix en Provence

2008-07-18T10:52:00.001-07:00

Right now, I am sitting in an Internet cafe in Aix [having just made the last update] and am contemplating both what came before and what will come after. What came before was my leaving Locquirec [or Lokireg in Breton]. This is a sad thing; I enjoyed my stay there very much. Yesterday, Nicole drove me all over the countryside, looking at calvaires [not my photos, but a good representation for you who do not know]... these are carved stone depictions of the life of Christ [various bits, especially the stations of the cross] that are positioned both in churchyards, and at intersections, both major and minor, around the countryside. They are quite fascinating. We also visited St. Pol-de-Leon, [named after a killer of dragons, tamer of animals, and possible bell thief]; Roscoff, where Mary Stuart hid after losing the war of succession; and Saint Thegonnec, a sleepy little town with a gigantic church and the most elaborate calvaire that I saw.

Our other stop yesterday was to Morlaix, to try to make a train reservation so I could come here, to Aix. It turned out to be a little complicated. In Morlaix, the fellow could only get me here via Paris [other possibilities showed on the Internet] and from Paris to Aix in 2nd class, at 5 pm [after starting out in Morlaix at 7:23, after having to get there from Locquirec...]. I have no objection to 2nd class, really, even though my Eurail pass is for 1st... it was the almost 6 hour wait in Paris that I didn't like, getting to Aix... actually about now, surprisingly [it is just past 8 pm], some coincidence... When I got to Paris, I went from the Gare Montparnasse to Gare de Lyon and once there stood in line for a long time to ask whether I could get on an earlier train... voila! Luckily, the guy worked some magic and I was in 1st on the 1:30 train. I also wisely asked him to make me a reservation for Aix to Rome [he seemed so professional, why not use his talents?] and ended up finding out that this was probably not the best spot, from a schedule standpoint, to divide up the trip from Brittany to Italy. It turns out [perhaps because of the late hour of the reservation] that I will have to go to Lyon, then Chambery, then Milan, then Rome... quite the elaborate trip. The plus side is that I will be able to see the French Alps... I've only travelled this route before at night.

Well somewhere in there I think I expressed what came before... and what comes after, you might ask? Dinner, I say. I'll tell you what I have, later.

Missing Paris Information

2008-07-18T10:44:00.000-07:00

When I wrote about my last night in Paris, I mentioned a restaurant [actually, a cave a vin], and two wines we had. If you have not read the comment sections, you will not have received the updated information that Rosemary provided.

The restaurant is called Le Zinc de Cavistes. The wines were, and here I am quoting Rosemary "**Crozes Hermitage 2007** courtesy of winemaker Combier (with a flowery flourish) and the second was Madiran, which was 100% Malbec grape but different from the Argentine variety."
Drink either/both with impunity.

Locquirec

2008-07-17T04:08:00.000-07:00

Just a quick post to let anyone know who happens to be following this that I haven't fallen off the face of the earth... I've just been having a wonderful time in Locquirec, Brittany, for the past few days... without a readily available computer.

My friend Nicole and her family have been wonderful hosts... I have been wined, dined, and entertained very well. Every lunch and dinner includes a starter, a main, a salad, some cheese, and dessert... with a little wine, perhaps an aperatif, perhaps a digestif... I need to go for a swim in the ocean or a long walk after every meal... luckily, this is possible!

Until the next time...

Leaving Paris

2008-07-12T23:45:00.000-07:00

I guess that it is a good thing to feel like there hasn't been enough time... it means the necessity, or perhaps inevitability, of return. The past 6 days have whizzed by. I got to see some favourite sights (Musée d'Orsay, Louvre, Centre Georges Pompidou), I got to see some new ones, (the Paris sewers, the film museum), and I got to visit friends... thank you to Roemary, Frederic, and Chih for helping make my stay here even better.

Yesterday, we went to a spiffy wine bar... I should have noted the name (I'll give an update, if I find out); we had two impressive bottles of wine and a tasty dinner (same note on the wines... details, details... they are important). I hadn't met Frederic, Rosemary's partner, yet, but it was great doing so. Here he is living in one of the great cities of the world, and he can't wait to move to Canada. They are going to be in Montréal at the end of the year, so I guess we'll have to go visit them there! (they have to stop living in cool places, if they don't want a lot of visitors)

I have to make this quick; I have to check out of the hotel, and then it is on to Locquirec! (look that up on google maps) My stay at the Hotel du Parc Montsouris has been great; it is close to the RER line (a direct link to the airport), and is right across from the lovely eponymous park.

I am not sure when I will get a chance to type this again soon, but stay tuned; there will be updates.

Le Marais

2008-07-11T08:45:00.000-07:00

Right now, I am sitting in Web 46 an internet cafe on rue du Roi de Sicile [#46, duh]. So far today, I have managed to go up the Arc du Triomphe, have lunch with Rosemary [see photo under "Evidence I am in Paris"], and tour the Centre Georges Pompidou. After looking at all the great modern and contemporary art, I have been wandering around this cool neighbourhood. Just up the block at #52, at Moto 777, I bought a tres chic hand silkscreened tie... I am pretty sure that no one else in Prince George is going to have one like it... you can see their stuff for yourself at moto777.com. I wish that I had brought my cord with me, so I could post a picture or two of my spiffy sojourn in Paris... well, I guess that both my loyal readers can wait. I am going to meet Chih [see same above-referenced photo] on the steps of the Bastille Opera in a few minutes. I will let you know if we get up to anything interesting... what am I saying? of course it will be interesting... doing anything here is, by definition. If you have a coffee, you are having a coffee... IN PARIS... if you walk down the street, you are walking down the street... IN PARIS... if you stub your toe while walking down... you get the idea.

The Inkwell

2008-07-10T12:51:00.000-07:00

I have been doing a mess of sightseeing these past few days; I will update these sights in one go, soon. I do have a short review of sorts of a great restaurant that I went to, yesterday. I would have made the post then, but I fell asleep when I got back to the hotel... perhaps from eating too much?

The restaurant is call L'Encrier (the inkwell)... it is at 55 Rue Traversière, 12e; metro Ledru Rollin or Gare de Lyon... it is easy to find. I arrived before the place opened (it was 7 pm, and it opens at 7:30), but the gracious host told me to sit and wait there... he brought me a carafe of water and some amuse gueule, consisting of little toasts with tapenade. When the ordering was in order, I ordered l'assiette du sud-oest, which turned out to be salad with walnuts, a chunk of foie gras, and smoked duck breast... superb. Next, I had "bar entier grille", which is a fish, like a very big trout, and delicious. It came with lovely deep fried potatoes and zucchini cooked with a hint of cumin. I washed this all down with a half-litre of red from Anjou (I know, I know, red with fish? but it went very well). For dessert, I crammed in sorbet pamplemousse, which is made in-house and is exquisite. I waddled away from the restaurant, quite content.

Well, that's it for now... stay tuned for more fascinating drivel from me... your foreign correspondant... speaking of being in another place... it is taking me a bit to get used to the French keyboard, handy if you want accented vowels, but a bugger if you are used to a North American keyboard...

Evidence that I am in Paris

2008-07-09T00:33:00.000-07:00

I had my first day sight-seeing here in the City of Light, and then topped it off with a meal with friends, Rosemary and Chih. Even though I understand the concept intellectually, it still amazes me that I can come a few thousand kilometres to a relatively unfamiliar place and, suddenly, here are people that I know... trés, trés cool.

The evidence:

Chih is here attending business school, hence the dapper attire; Rosemary is living and working here for a while, hence her Parisian chic; I am a tourist here, hence my collosal geekdom. And thanks to the anonymous fellow at the Denfert Rochereau RER station for taking this fine photo.

On my first full day here, I tried to get good value from the 4 day museum pass that I bought. I went to Notre Dame (free, but the tower with its dandy view of the city costs, but not with the pass!), the Crypte Archeologique, the Paris Sewer Museum, and the Pantheon. I will update with photos, when I get to a facility that will enable such; stupidly, I left the connector cable for my camera at home. I was lucky at the Pantheon; the tower part was closed for regular tourists, but a tour group was being let in, so I tagged along, no one said anything to me, and got another great view of Paris! (after already going up Notre Dame)... I feel a bit spoiled. There was a display about Emile Zola and the Affair Dreyfuss in the Crypt of the Pantheon (Zola is buried there)... J'Accuse!

If you are ever in Paris, do try out the Sewer Museum, near the Pont de l'Alma (noteworthy as the place of death of what British princess, for $400, Alex?). It is certainly not an olfactory delight, but it gives good insight into the development of the city, as well as a different view of the problems created by that development... besides the good history, you can then say that you've toured the sewer... this has a lot of caché in some circles... considering how many school groups were there when I was, I have a pretty good idea who might think such a trip might be a good idea.

Made it to Paris

2008-07-07T13:19:00.000-07:00

Here I am, using the free internet point at the Hotel du Parc-Montsouris... the nine-and-a-half hour flight from Vancouver was relatively uneventful, chicken korma for dinner, a nice and quiet seatmate, only a little puking as we landed (not by me)... what more could a boy ask for?

We passed through customs, etc, with no problem; North American gestapo airport security could take a page or two from Charles de Gaulle Airport... no hassle, with no diminished sense of security... and it is all about perception, n'est-ce pas?

The RER trip was easy; a major stop is just blocks from my hotel. I checked in and went out for dinner (having been more or less awake for about 30 hours, now). At dinner I had a little wine with my big salad and créme brulé, so I am feeling little pain. I think I will go to bed now and will update this later.

As Promised - Introducing Canale!

2008-07-04T22:29:00.000-07:00

On my trip [T minus 2 days!], I will be spending the most time with my friends in Canale Monterano, Italy [just North of Rome... check google maps]. My friend, Claudio, his son, Adrian, his mom, Rosella, his brother, Tulio, Tulio's wife, Mara, cousin Tulio, other cousin Tulio, Mario, Mauritzio, all the other cousins and friends, and all the other great people of Canale await.

While there we'll visit the neighbouring towns, the beaches [both salty and fresh], Rome, some Etruscan tombs, Florence [perhaps], and a few other choice sites. All while trying, most days, to make it home for lunch, or there will be hell to pay with Rosella.

Canale has the castle, a market, some swell old buildings, picturesque streets, a beautiful landscape, five bars... all one could want!

Here are some photos to introduce the place to those who might be interested [currently, me and Melinda, if the sitemeter is to be believed]:

Big-Ass Veggies

2008-07-03T19:51:00.000-07:00

Just a quick note to show off a recently-harvested bok choy from my garden:

Canada Day

2008-07-03T19:30:00.000-07:00

We recently celebrated the 141st Birthday of Canada... yee, haw. In Prince George the temperature hit 30 celsius, which didn't seem supremely Canadian. I think that our nation's big day should be moved to winter, where it will seem more appropriate... celebrating things Canadian involves snow and ice, or it should at least be frosty... and not just the beer.

Of course, there were a lot of good Canadian songs on the CBC, which made me think a bit about Can-Con... having rules about the percentage of Canadian music played on radio stations made the Canadian music industry successful, without the severe diminishment of quality predicted on its inception.

One wonders when the bright folks who might make it happen will figure out that this system will work for Canadian movies, too. If theatres had to show even 20% Canadian content, then it will be in their interest to promote these films properly. Most movies get big audiences because people hear about them; if the public hears about a Canadian movie, they will watch it. If Canadian production companies prosper, they will be able to procure bigger budgets for new films; thus, eradicating the major complaint made about current productions.

If Nacho Libre [for one example among many... an egregiously un-funny piece of crap... it should have been good... c'mon, Lucha Libre is a supremely interesting (and amusing) phenomenon, and Jack Black is capable of a certain frenetically humourous charm] can garner an audience based solely on hype and turns a profit, then many Canadian films will be able to do so.

getting excited about travel

2008-06-29T17:10:00.000-07:00

I am leaving next week for a 5 week European trip. After landing in Paris and staying for 6 days, it will be on to Locquirec, Brittany, to visit Nicole, my French instructor, for a few days in her home village. I hope that I do not embarrass her with my egregious French... perhaps her friends and family are as gracious and patient as she is.

Leaving Locquirec it's on to Aix en Provence for a three-day visit. I am hoping to be able to travel North to Apt, to see the Tour de France pass by [evidently at 12:44 pm on July 19... pretty precise, n'est ce pas?]. As well, I would like to wander around on Mont Ste-Victoire, a favourite topic of one of my favourite painters, Cezanne.

Next, it will be on to Canale Monterano, Italy, to visit my friend, Claudio, and his family and friends. It is a paradise of a small town, and I look forward to my 10 days there. I will make an updated Canale reference, soon.

After Canale, I will go to Venice for 3 days, then Vienna for 3 days, and finally Frankfurt for 4 days, visiting my friends Martin and Arabella. On August 10, I fly back to Prince George... boo hoo.

Thinking about travel makes me think about great past trips. Here's a little video taken on the Promenade des Anglais in Nice... again video credit goes to Melinda:

assuming someone is looking

2008-06-28T13:00:00.000-07:00

If you have arrived at this blog, you might wonder why "filmguy"... I enjoy films; I watch a lot of films; I will review films on this site; I sometimes act like I am in a film, as if I am being observed from afar... this can be both highly amusing and frightening... try it some time... perhaps this is my answer to a godless universe.

An element of my film-liking is that I named my dog Bergman [after Ingemar, he's a boy]; he is a Jack Russell Terrier and a highly-amusing fellow. For your viewing enjoyment, I offer up a photoshopped picture of him and a short movie-clip:

See, he is a handsome fellow, and kind-of a dork. Oh, video credits go to Melinda, as do original photo credits for the shot of Paris... found here for reference: http://oneofmyears.blogspot.com/2008/04/paris.html

Unfortunately, Bergman has yet to visit the City of Lights, but he will be very cool about it when he does... as he looks in the picture. Oh, credit goes to Melinda for the hat Bergman is wearing; she knit it [it is a child's cap, but I folded it down to look like a tam/beret for Bergman's cool style's sake].

The shot of Bergman was taken by the on-board camera on my IMac; these are a dangerous, but fun, invention, especially when coupled with Photobooth. What Mac user doesn't have 30 or 40 photos of themselves on the desktop, using every filter and option available?

First Post

2008-06-28T12:45:00.000-07:00

Hello. Thank you for joining me in my self-indulgence. I enjoy looking at other peoples' blogs, but have always felt a little self-conscious about setting up my own, primarily because I am not so sure that anyone will care what I think or do, hence the title [you were warned].

Soon, I will be going on a big trip overseas and will use this as a way of recording things that happen while I am traveling. Perhaps I will let some of my friends know this address, so they can keep track of me... we'll see.