The Rose is in full bloom

Lack of self-confidence, what an issue. Stars do not have any of those. Roses don't have such issues either. Or, do they?

Bette Midler got nominated for an Oscar for her performance in The Rose (1979), and she was so good, that I was surprised she didn't win it. But then again...when the contestant plays a role that sets an example, instead of portraying a doomed star with drug addiction and psychological issues, who's gonna win, do you think? Fair enough.

Electrifying performance that touches the soul, even more, the soul of a woman with a certain level of dynamic balance in her life. It was, it will -will it be? Whatta woman. Poise, attitude, charm and the next moment she's losing the floor under her feet. To go back to shine with a bottle in her hand. And what a wonderful soundtrack. A well-deserved break in the mysterious world of Sex, Drugs & Rock'n'Roll. I avoid mentioning the similarity to the life of Janis Joplin, as little do I know about Janis The only similarity I saw was that Rose was not wearing a bra and was not shaving her armpits.

And how come I haven't written anything in so long? Is cinema not the love of my life anymore? Well, no, it's not. Isn't it clear by now?

Charlie Countryman goes to Bucharest

Film critics are not as mean as we think. Film critics watch a shit load of mediocre films. And, film critics get tired of watching those mediocre new releases day after day. They do feel the desperate need to get it out of their system. And, that's why they are being mean -I do understand, and I sympathise.

"This is a movie with a chalk-outline around it", Peter Bradshaw wrote on The Guardian. And it gets worse: "this catastrophe of a movie zigzags drunkenly between action-adventure and surreal comedy with some magical realism slopped over it like ketchup", states with no mercy Stephen Holden on New York Times. Yet, this far from the worse film either of us has seen, and we all know it deep down. It is a film with Shia LaBeouf though, and reviewers do not like him quite as much as teenage girls do. Well, I do not like him either, but the film was ok, leaving its cliches behind. No matter the bitter reviews, The Necessary Death of Charlie Countryman (2013), as the film is also known, got a Golden Bear nomination at the Berlinale and is the first feature by talented director Frendrik Bond who was into music videos and ads before.

Interesting visually, how could it not be, as it was set in Bucharest, such a vibrant and not as mundanely central European -not like the cities we're used to roam around, so to say. So, the backdrop is inspiring, the lovely quasi-Romanian and destructive female lead is inspiring, too, even if she is plain American and in fact under her skin hides a short-haired Evan Rachel Wood. Mads Mikkelsen is not doing much with his role, but we still like him. Music is good (featuring Moby in the soundtrack), whereas rhythm sometimes not particularly so.

All the lonely people

After eating a box of chocolate truffles dipped in glitter in an effort to cure my not-feeling-well mood, and after remembering that last night I practically devoured 3 doughnuts with cream filling inside the super-market, cause there was no way I could wait to pay for them first, Eleanor Rigby came on my mind. Not specifically her, but all the lonely people who walk in the city and pretend to be too busy even to smile to the person they just crossed, while in reality they would love to drink a coffee or a beer with someone. But, not just anyone, and that's where the problem (if you can call it a problem) lies. 

Lonely people are in fact a bit too selective. They are fond of their memories, and they are sentimental. They find it hard to attach, and even harder to detach. They cherish imaginary friends and relationships, and keep a place in their heart for those who are no longer around. They are maybe introverts or just highly sensitive or just deeply hurt. Or nothing from all the above -I won't pretend I have the key to human psyche. 

I know that in this particular case, Eleanor Rigby is deeply hurt indeed. Profoundly sad and lonely she is, only because she felt the ultimate bliss, only because she knew how it is to be in love with the one. Until things went sour. Jessica Chastain is the redhead in the poster and the disappearing girl in the title. Her other half on screen for this set of films is James McAvoy. They are both brilliant -some of those actors whose performance is rarely questioned, just because they seem so natural in everyone's shoes. Why did I say "set of films"? If you're wondering, you probably haven't heard that newcomer Ned Benson had the poignant idea to shoot two films with the same title, and the exact same story, only different. One is from the point of view of the guy, the other is from the point of the view of the lady, that's why we have The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby: Him (2013) and  The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby: Her (2013). 

I have watched both films back to back, which is the right thing to do, after all, to notice similarities and differences.  Giving credit to popular belief that men and women have a totally different point of view  and react in a different way to the same situations (or else Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus), Benson decided not only to include new, unknown parts of each characters' story in each film, but also to have the actors give a slightly different performance in the same scene from one film to the other, whether it is for the tone of voice, facial expression or even the words they decided to use. How does it feel when each party feels that it's the other one to blame?

Sin City 2: Where Blood is Coloured White

Sin City: A Dame to Kill For (2014) is a sequel some were impatiently waiting for, for almost a decade. Did it worth the anticipation/hype? More or less. Did it catch us by surprise?  It certainly didn't, as it's hard for a sequel to bring new elements in the game, but we loved it anyways. Sin City brings back nearly forgotten heroes and monsters from an era long gone.

Performances & Characterisation

Ex Dark Angel Jessica Alba is more stunning than ever. And oh-so-innocent. Contrapuntal Eva Green is the archetype of femme fatale, trying to beat her predecessors in classic film noirs. No matter how impressive the looks, she doesn't win the competition with the likes of Lana Turner and Barbara Stanwyck. She ends up an amusing caricature though, a devouring sex goddess with such a harsh/ exaggerated outline that makes thinking men unable to fall/kill for her (at least in real life). Same goes for the whole gang: their traits, whether physical or character ones are seen through the magnifying glass -something which accommodates us. It accommodates our politically-correct selves -we find it hard to identify with them, thanks God. But, one cannot expect subtlety in the adaptation of a graphic novel, right?

Shock Tactics 

Beware: this is R rated material. Banned in Iran, while in fast-forward Canada 14 year olds are allowed in screenings, the film is not a valid choice when in chill out mood. Highly sensitive souls will have to cover their eyes for the biggest part of the movie (sic) and they will still be agitated nevertheless. Of course, it's not the "sexual content, nudity or short drug" use we disapprove of.  It is the "strong brutal stylised violence throughout". Those sequences must have been a pain to shoot and I appreciate cast and crew and extraordinary stuntmen for their contribution, but, guys, that was so intense an experience that I was unable to sleep until four thirty in the morning.  

Sacco & Vanzetti (1971)

I am not sure why this post was not on time. Or, maybe I am: it is not the easiest thing on earth to write about social injustice, the shortcomings of Law as a social practice and the uptightness of the upper management (sic). Hierarchy is a wall more unbreakable than the Berliner wall -that had to fall, eventually.

To cut a long story short, as this post comes quite late -it was originally planned to glorify the successful event organised by Cinematheque de la Ville de Luxembourg with the opportunity of the screening of Sacco & Vanzetti (1971), the original feature film by Giuliano Montaldo- injustice is hard to cope with and even harder to digest. But we manage to live with it every single day, just as we manage to pretend we don't quite care.

The screening was a clear success, the venue almost sold out thanks to the Italians -I've noticed these bravissimi Italiani in Luxembourg, how they are sticking together and showing fraternity in every possible sense, whether it is to go and have a pizza or an aperitivo all'italiano, or to support a cultural event. And this was a big event indeed, as the director himself, now well at his eighties, was invited to present his film and take questions from the audience. 

The moving film was contrapuntal to the allegro director, who was lively and energetic and told us about his future plans to do a biographical documentary on Gian Maria Volonté, a leading Italian actor.

As for Nicola Sacco and Bartolomeo Vanzetti, they were courageous and true to themselves and they deserve all our respect -I'm thankful to the film that acquainted me to their story. They stood for what they believed until the end and they died in the electric chair only because the "upper management" could not accept that they lived through vehemently xenophobe times and immigrants were not welcome at Massachusetts (or elsewhere, for that sake), let alone immigrants with anarcho-communistic tendencies.

West Side Story (1961)

I practically never comment on musicals (this doesn't mean I don't watch them), but today I felt like revisiting the emblematic West Side Story, as seen by Jerome Robbins and Robert Wise. They had a great soundtrack to work with, as well as a great cast, including Natalie Wood on the principal role of Maria, and then of course Rita Moreno and George Chakiris (son of Greek immigrants), who both won an Oscar for Best Supporting Actor.

The sole reason I go crazy over watching clips on YouTube and sobbing all afternoon is my recent viewing of West Side Story at the Grand Theatre in Luxembourg. All in all not a bad production; I like the costumes, the dancing and choreographies. The cast was oh-so-vigorous and Maria and Tony were good in singing. But, singing, acting and dancing all at the same time is not an easy thing, this is taken for granted; no one to blame, it's just the way it is. No matter how moving the show was, for its charm and tearful storyline, the orchestra could not keep the burden of the excellent Sondheim lyrics and Bernstein score on its shoulder. It would need better chorale and individual singing to uplift our ears, but that will be for next time.

Thirsty for the real thing, I start to appreciate the singing in the film version of the West Side Story, where, in fact, the singing voices do not belong to the actors on screen. Jimmy Bryant is the singing voice for Tony, Marni Nixon is Maria, Betty Wand is Anita and so on so forth (I have to thank them for making the film experience complete). A mix of frank and sensitive music and lyrics -my favourites songs are definitely Maria and Tonight-, but also playful and ironic songs like America and Officer Krupke make this film truly enjoyable (even if I heard that some people find it a tad too long and occasionally boring). The set, the colours, everything is pleasant, just to leave us with a bitter feeling for the lost romance.

The Hairdresser's Husband is here to welcome you

Roger Ebert, the man who knows too much, recently added Le Mari de La Coiffeuse (1990) -as the original French title goes- in his list of Great Movies. "It is about our foolish dreams", he writes. The Hairdresser's Husband is not only a great movie. It's a great, (imaginary) place, where people dare to be different, live disconnected from society and whichever norms it sets, where people are free to exist as they please with their sole compass crazy fantasies and childhood aspirations.

Jean Rochefort and Anna Galiena make an unusual couple; in his forties, he proposes the fist time he sees her, while she is about to finish giving him a haircut on a leather chair in her barber's shop. He doesn't even know her name. He pays and excuses himself before he leaves, only to come back two weeks after for one more haircut. She accepts his proposal before he has the time to tell her his name, let alone repeat the proposal itself. A calm life full of consuming passion awaits them.

After the most unconventional wedding scene I ever remember watching, after an uninterrupted fixation for one another, after many idle days and afternoons where Antoine does nothing but silently adores his long-awaited hairdresser wife Mathilde, the spell is broken. Ten years of peaceful co-existence, during which no friends, children or other incidents spoil their romantic bubble are too good to be true. Mathilde melancholically  sways in her 50s print dresses and wavy hair, content with the present, but with a hidden fear for the future. Too scared of the realistic possibility of suddenly facing loss, she decides to leave first.

Gravity (2013) is much appreciated

I never thought I would write an elegy for Sandra Bullock. But, when they say "never say never", I guess they are right; I totally feel like writing an elegy for her performance in Gravity (2013), indeed. Even if part of the credit goes to the Alfonso Cuaron for being the director he is (a director able to achieve concrete results with a largely abstract scenario like this one), his female lead cannot go without praise.

Kisses to the Children (2011) and Judaism in Greece

There are shocking historical facts that sometimes fail to make an impression, probably due to the overwhelming amount of information we are fed and never quite digest. Sure, we've heard it all before,  but did we ever found the time to contemplate upon the true nature of facts and figures? There are atrocious topics shadowing the cities we love to live in, but we never had the time to properly address them. It is a pity that each one of us does not dedicate a thought for no more than a split second to acknowledge people who were massively and systematically eradicated with no obvious reason. Could any reason be solid enough to sustain such an unimaginable act, after all? History sometimes doesn't make sense.

The Holocaust was probably the most shivering paradigm of a time when history ceased making any sense. Thousands of people boarded ships and trains; little did they carry with them. They feared the worse, but what awaited them was out of the scope of anyone's imagination; that was a puzzling assumption to make upon hearing that nobody took seriously a Greek Jew who escaped from Auschwitz and went back to Thessaloniki to describe the atrocities that were taking place back there. Nobody took him seriously, they thought he has gone nuts; and that was a sane person's reaction.

Alfred and Alma: Hitchcock was not alone

"Alma was to become Hitchcock's closest collaborator, but her contributions to his films (some of which were credited on screen) Hitchcock would discuss only in private, as she was keen to avoid public attention."

That being noted by one of the master of suspense biographers', I am keen to feel that it maybe was otherwise. Hitchcock was probably too egocentric; that's another suggestion that hides in a not quite recent biography by Stephen Rebello under the title Alfred Hitchcock and the Making of Psycho. The book was published in the nineties, but it got made into a film last year. Hitchcock (2012), features an obese (for the role's sake), but still not as much as needed, Anthony Hopkins in the title character and Helen Mirren as Alma, the director's invisible wife and collaborator. 

Weird enough, but I've never heard of that poor wife, until I watched the film. That great wife. Brave wife. I've heard numerous stories about Hitchcock's obsession with his blondes, probably exaggerated, annoying stories. I took it that he was apparently not married, to have the recklessness to allow his obsessions to become public. But, no. He was married all the way, and his supportive wife was there for him, put up with his fantasies and even helped him when things got rough career-wise.

The Great Gatsby (2013) or On film adaptations

An unhappy child creates illusions of grandeur to escape his misery. A man who achieves realisation of his illusions of grandeur, content at last. Is he? Shouldn't he be? But, isn't  it part of the human nature to be unsatisfied? Is there not a tiny evasive detail that will unforgivably stain forever the tableaux vivant of our perfect lives?

Berberian Sound Studio (2012)

3 reasons to see this film:

Toby Jones is an awesome actor with a vast acting palette; he was Truman Capote in the annoying/unbelievable characterisation by Douglas McGrath and his Infamous (2006), he was in political films Frost/Nixon and W., and he also was...Dobby in the Chamber of Secrets, the second installment of Harry Potter. 

Short Cuts (1993)

I watched Short Cuts because of Raymond Carver featuring as a basic ingredient in the film. Robert Altman is an equally good reason to watch  a film, but my mood was  not compatible with his take on life and human relationships that day; it was Carver's point of view on the everyday as a constant melancholic dead-end that I was looking for.

The topic of film adaptations has always been a cumbersome one; not everyone agrees on their merit, neither on the way they should represent a book on screen. Should they stay true to the ambience, the occurrences, the characters, true to the author in a certain sense? Or are they allowed to take liberties, to invent new scenes that serve the cinematic medium, and twist the ending to please the audience of the multiplexes? In theory, a film director can do whatever he wants with a text, as long as he references the author in the right way. If the film cites "inspired by", it's always a better solution; "based on" goes a bit too far and creates foul expectations.

Django Unchained (2012)

Everybody probably knows by now who Django is and  how his name is pronounced -the D silent. Three whole days after watching a copy with French and Dutch subtitles (annoying), on a very big screen in the only local multiplex and with an audience whose reactions made me think that I was definitely the only one who found the whole thing so infinitely hilarious, I can confess in front of my international readers that Tarantino's new film is indeed his best one till now. Inglourious Basterds slipped and fell down. In the second place.

Even if I chose for my post not the official version of the poster, but a fan version, on which the creative team worked to produce the final one -it belongs to the creative genius (sic) of an Italian named Federico Mancosu-, I have to aknowledge another one flying around the World Wide Web that I found inspiring. It's this one. 

Ruby Sparks...and God created Woman

Talking on air on Ara City Radio last week on Friday Flicks, it was probably the first time I got so excited about a film. It was my very own tip of the week; I dared to name it in my flamboyant fashion "the perfect film". Ben believed I have seen the film already, due to my overwhelming dedication. I had only seen the trailer once.

Ruby Sparks (2012) is by no means "the perfect film";  I  do tend to have great expectations, a bothersome characteristic I try to diminish from a very young age. Ruby Sparks is, still, a refreshing film with  sweet moments, actors we love and some others we are falling in love with. Like Zoe Kazan, who succeeded in doing what she left unfinished in HappyThankYouMorePlease (2010). There she was plain annoying. Being Ruby Sparks, she is real, she is happy, she is sad and charming, she is the maze of life. It could be that she loved the character too much, as she is her creator. Even though she plays the creation. I will get back to that in a bit.

Gustavo Santaolalla or Biutiful Sounds

Biutiful (2010) got awards and nominations everywhere from Cannes and Kodak Theatre till the numerous critic's associations all around the States, the Goya Awards (Spain) and the Ariel Awards (Mexico) , but my aim here is not to meticulously praise its endless merits. My aim is to remember one of its most attractive yet alienating features, its music. Leaving Xavier Bardem and the multi-layered plot aside, Gustavo Santaolalla is one of the key names in this beautifully sad film.

Gangs of New York (2002) or Why, Cameron?

"America was born in the streets" stated the posters when Gangs of New York was ready to conquer the theater screens; and that was years after Scorsese stated his intention of making the film. Some concepts are hard to materialise, especially if they evolve around the "think big" motto. And Martin Scorsese was never quite a fan of whatever small; that's why we love him.

A Couple to Remember: New York, New York

It's Valentine's Day today, and no matter how silly or empty this day can be, it is what it is. A day established enough to remind us the need to portray love and affection at its best, or just fake it. You know what? It doesn't even matter. Everybody deserves a thought, a tacky gift or quality time with the person he shares his life with, even if it's not spontaneous or passionate. For some, being a couple is making an effort, such an effort -should it be like that or not? It's all a matter of taste, really. And luck.

What do you want from me? or the City will Devour you

Life can be prosaic -especially this part of the world. We may yearn for adventurous rides. But, are we ready for it? Griffin Dunne, dresses the role of Paul Hackett for a dense with paranoia and angst, and Kafka, and Theatre of the Absurd and much more, Scorsese black comedy After Hours (1985); Paul Hackett is a word processor who wants to jump out of his comfort zone; he thinks he's ready for it. He's totally up for a little sexy adventure, to spice up his plain dull life. When he meets  the siren Rosannna Arquette, he decides to follow her in the rabbit hole. She will take him on a journey in an unknown urban maze, filled with artists, weirdos, solitaires, all of them somehow dodgy. Paul hasn't got the nerve it takes, he asks the desperate "What do you want from me?" early on. To her, to his puppeteer, to the universe, to whoever is willing to answer.

International Aids Day with House of Boys

The 1st of December is the International Aids Day, a day dedicated to the War of Humanity vs HIV. Aids is a problem that touches us all, men, women, gays and straights, but you know that already, don't you? I will cut the preaching short and continue to mix good causes with cinema, as always. Just to add how much I miss my Athenian days, when with my friend Julie I was attending every singe Anti-Aids screening. Morbid I was, oh dear. Like when I wanted to write a piece on Cancer on the Screen and my prof found my idea scary. Life is hard, let's face it.