Another film I could well have done without seeing was Pushkar Myths. I know very well why I chose it. The Pushkar camel fair has always been high on my list of things to see before I die so a documentary about it seemed a good idea, either as an appetiser or as a means of saving all the hassle of actually going.
Someone said at the screening of another film that there is too much verbalisation nowadays in what is essentially a visual art. Let the pictures tell the story. I have a lot of sympathy with that view but in a documentary it's generally helpful to back up the pictures with some words. That's maybe what the makers of Pushkar Myths were trying to do but none of the words were a direct commentary on the pictures. They were mostly rambling, and to me barely comprehensible, stories about the Indian gods with a lot of old testament style X begat Y and Y begat Z...
The story the pictures did tell was of a fairly chaotic gathering of people and beasts. Some of the pictures were great, folk dancing displays for instance or haggling over a best cow in fair competition. But not all. A ferris wheel is a ferris wheel is a ferris wheel in India or in Cowdenbeath. And the camels figured hardly at all.
While Pushkar Myths may have given me the hump Testament repaid my small investment in time and treasure manyfold. Made in 1983 it's the story of the effects on a typical, not to say stereotypical American family and their small Californian community after a nuclear attack on the country's main cities.
The director, Lynne Littman, was at the screening and was visibly moved when she came on for a Q&A. She said she hadn't seen the film for 25 years and that as she watched she blushed at everything she thought was wrong with it, every family cliché, every overdone moment, every obvious emotional trick. But she could not help herself from being stirred. Neither could the audience.
Saying she'd been scared at the possibility of nuclear annihilation when she made the film her one regret was that given the present regime in America it seemed to be relevant still.
Thursday, June 28, 2018
Wednesday, June 27, 2018
Going through this year's Book Festival programme I identified 57 events of interest. Over time I managed to cut that list down to a more manageable not to say affordable 12 and when booking opened yesterday got a ticket for all of them.
I think my choices are quite firmly based which is not always the case. As I sat in the Filmhouse watching Cosmic Eye I wondered what had driven me to choose it. Animation is not my bag for a start. It must surely have been the advertised contributions of Benny Carter and Dizzy Gillespie that made me ignore the "rarely screened gem" warning in the festival brochure. Fortunately an afternoon Campari and soda taken to celebrate the arrival of a small table for my balcony induced a fair degree of eyelid droop so there was no lasting damage.
Terminal is all style over substance but none the worse for that. The director told us that they had wanted to create a neon drenched noir thriller set in a dystopian city that had a London flavour to it. With a caveat over just how thrilling or not it was, they succeeded.
The cinematography, music, costumes and performances are excellent. The locations like the deserted railway terminal, the vast industrial building with a bottomless pit at its centre and others are all lit and dressed atmospherically.
But the plot advertised as complex, travels more along the familiar paths of the genre. Its double crosses and reveals, its denouement's echoes of gathering the suspects and explaining all (albeit there's only one left) hardly breaks new ground or strains the spectator's brain. That may or may not be a good thing in the cinemagoers' eyes. I hope it's a good thing because the film is fun and deserves to do well.
I think my choices are quite firmly based which is not always the case. As I sat in the Filmhouse watching Cosmic Eye I wondered what had driven me to choose it. Animation is not my bag for a start. It must surely have been the advertised contributions of Benny Carter and Dizzy Gillespie that made me ignore the "rarely screened gem" warning in the festival brochure. Fortunately an afternoon Campari and soda taken to celebrate the arrival of a small table for my balcony induced a fair degree of eyelid droop so there was no lasting damage.
Terminal is all style over substance but none the worse for that. The director told us that they had wanted to create a neon drenched noir thriller set in a dystopian city that had a London flavour to it. With a caveat over just how thrilling or not it was, they succeeded.
The cinematography, music, costumes and performances are excellent. The locations like the deserted railway terminal, the vast industrial building with a bottomless pit at its centre and others are all lit and dressed atmospherically.
But the plot advertised as complex, travels more along the familiar paths of the genre. Its double crosses and reveals, its denouement's echoes of gathering the suspects and explaining all (albeit there's only one left) hardly breaks new ground or strains the spectator's brain. That may or may not be a good thing in the cinemagoers' eyes. I hope it's a good thing because the film is fun and deserves to do well.
Monday, June 25, 2018
I absented myself from this afternoon's screening of Fritz Lang's 1931 thriller M to enjoy the current heatwave but I sacrificed sun for cinema yesterday.
First on the agenda was a set of seven short films grouped under the title Where's Your Skirt? That was in fact a line plucked from one of the films. It was not altogether representative of the group though four were about girls and one featured a boy in a negligée. I guess it just appealed to the programmer. Brief notes so I don't forget. They were all well crafted and interesting whether lighthearted or serious.
Winter with Umma - Thirty year old still a student in Edinburgh while her brother is getting married back home in Korea. Can a visit from her mum help her into adulthood whatever that is?
Salt and Sauce - A girl unhappily stuck helping in the family chip shop while friends escape to college or the big bad world. She likes taking photographs. A middle-aged lady customer admires them and reveals that she once toured as a provocatively clad magician's assistant. Get up and do what makes you happy is her advice.
Some of these Days - A young German interviewing his grandparents who were school children under the Nazis and adults in the GDR. His grandad's passion was jazz. Sanctioned for playing records to his friends at school things got better in the early post-war years and then jazz became unGerman again. Grandad sees things getting worse today.
Three Centimetres - Four girls, friends, take a ride on a ferris wheel in Beirut. Their chat and banter is mostly about sex. One comes out as gay.
Bo & Mei - A recently bereaved Chinese runs a dry cleaning business. He forbids his son Bo to help his sister do the dishes. He insists Bo drinks beer with his meal. But Bo likes lipstick and is found in a négligée left for cleaning by a client who objected to the Chinese music playing in the shop. When she returns to collect it they turn up the volume.
Homage to Kobane - The camera sweeps around the ruins of Kobane while a voiceover reads a letter written by a girl fighter to her mum while she waited for death.
Good Girls - A St. Trinian's style group of girls is rounded up reluctantly for a photograph, one of them skirtless. The director, asked what inspired her said it was her nice pink jersey and lo that became part of the school uniform.
After the screening of Meeting Jim half a dozen of those involved in making the film lined up and declared their devotion to him. Jim Haynes is clearly a man with charm which for someone who says that his main interest in life is and always has been people is not surprising. In Edinburgh he helped galvanise cultural life in the 60s with his bookshop in Charles Street, the founding of the Traverse, the Writers Conference and so on. When he moved south it was our loss and London's gain. He then moved on again to make Paris his home and maintained his people centred philosophy with his legendary Sunday dinners.
All of this and more is capably told in the film which seamlessly knits together archive footage (including an interview with a onetime philosophy tutor of mine) and new material. That new material is in fact a couple of years old since the editing process stretched over two years.
For those new to Jim Haynes the film will be a revelation. For those familiar with his story it is a confirmation of the debt owed to him by many, not least those of us here in Edinburgh.
My last film of the day was a well told and gripping story of intergenerational conflict in a Pakistani family living in Norway. From the opening scene in which the heroine runs through snowy streets to ominous music to meet whatever curfew has been imposed on her you know that bad things will happen.
And so they do. Surprised in an embrace with a local lad she is carted off to Pakistan and dumped on relatives. Naturally she rebels but after a while seems to be softening and indeed developing feelings for a young man I took to be a cousin. Alas disaster strikes when she and cousin fall foul of relationship norms. Dad come out from Norway and invites her to commit suicide. She doesn't but auntie refuses to keep her so back to Norway she goes. She lies to the child protection agency about her treatment by her family to protect them.
Their next move is to organise marriage to a suitable chap in Canada. Suitable from the family's point of view. But for Nisha this is the last straw. Without giving anything away I can say that the film ends hopefully.
I may have made What Will People Say sound a bit trite but it's not. You need to do a bit of suspending disbelief. You'd very probably hide your involvement with friends and activities that your conservative family would disapprove of but very improbably smuggle a boyfriend into your bedroom even if it was just for a cuddle.
That aside the conflict is real as are the dilemmas that young immigrants find themselves in and the film deals with all of it sympathetically and movingly.
First on the agenda was a set of seven short films grouped under the title Where's Your Skirt? That was in fact a line plucked from one of the films. It was not altogether representative of the group though four were about girls and one featured a boy in a negligée. I guess it just appealed to the programmer. Brief notes so I don't forget. They were all well crafted and interesting whether lighthearted or serious.
Winter with Umma - Thirty year old still a student in Edinburgh while her brother is getting married back home in Korea. Can a visit from her mum help her into adulthood whatever that is?
Salt and Sauce - A girl unhappily stuck helping in the family chip shop while friends escape to college or the big bad world. She likes taking photographs. A middle-aged lady customer admires them and reveals that she once toured as a provocatively clad magician's assistant. Get up and do what makes you happy is her advice.
Some of these Days - A young German interviewing his grandparents who were school children under the Nazis and adults in the GDR. His grandad's passion was jazz. Sanctioned for playing records to his friends at school things got better in the early post-war years and then jazz became unGerman again. Grandad sees things getting worse today.
Three Centimetres - Four girls, friends, take a ride on a ferris wheel in Beirut. Their chat and banter is mostly about sex. One comes out as gay.
Bo & Mei - A recently bereaved Chinese runs a dry cleaning business. He forbids his son Bo to help his sister do the dishes. He insists Bo drinks beer with his meal. But Bo likes lipstick and is found in a négligée left for cleaning by a client who objected to the Chinese music playing in the shop. When she returns to collect it they turn up the volume.
Homage to Kobane - The camera sweeps around the ruins of Kobane while a voiceover reads a letter written by a girl fighter to her mum while she waited for death.
Good Girls - A St. Trinian's style group of girls is rounded up reluctantly for a photograph, one of them skirtless. The director, asked what inspired her said it was her nice pink jersey and lo that became part of the school uniform.
After the screening of Meeting Jim half a dozen of those involved in making the film lined up and declared their devotion to him. Jim Haynes is clearly a man with charm which for someone who says that his main interest in life is and always has been people is not surprising. In Edinburgh he helped galvanise cultural life in the 60s with his bookshop in Charles Street, the founding of the Traverse, the Writers Conference and so on. When he moved south it was our loss and London's gain. He then moved on again to make Paris his home and maintained his people centred philosophy with his legendary Sunday dinners.
All of this and more is capably told in the film which seamlessly knits together archive footage (including an interview with a onetime philosophy tutor of mine) and new material. That new material is in fact a couple of years old since the editing process stretched over two years.
For those new to Jim Haynes the film will be a revelation. For those familiar with his story it is a confirmation of the debt owed to him by many, not least those of us here in Edinburgh.
My last film of the day was a well told and gripping story of intergenerational conflict in a Pakistani family living in Norway. From the opening scene in which the heroine runs through snowy streets to ominous music to meet whatever curfew has been imposed on her you know that bad things will happen.
And so they do. Surprised in an embrace with a local lad she is carted off to Pakistan and dumped on relatives. Naturally she rebels but after a while seems to be softening and indeed developing feelings for a young man I took to be a cousin. Alas disaster strikes when she and cousin fall foul of relationship norms. Dad come out from Norway and invites her to commit suicide. She doesn't but auntie refuses to keep her so back to Norway she goes. She lies to the child protection agency about her treatment by her family to protect them.
Their next move is to organise marriage to a suitable chap in Canada. Suitable from the family's point of view. But for Nisha this is the last straw. Without giving anything away I can say that the film ends hopefully.
I may have made What Will People Say sound a bit trite but it's not. You need to do a bit of suspending disbelief. You'd very probably hide your involvement with friends and activities that your conservative family would disapprove of but very improbably smuggle a boyfriend into your bedroom even if it was just for a cuddle.
That aside the conflict is real as are the dilemmas that young immigrants find themselves in and the film deals with all of it sympathetically and movingly.
Sunday, June 24, 2018
A good day at the Film Festival yesterday; top marks to two out of four, less enthusiasm for the others.
In the closing years of the 19th century and the opening years of the 20th Frank Brinton and his wife Indiana from Washington Iowa toured their Entertainment Show. For the small communities they visited it was a magical trip out of their everyday world through lantern slides and moving pictures.
The Brintons kept everything, not just the slides and films but projectors, playbills, press cuttings account books, the lot. Thousands of items that lurked in a number of basements until over thirty years ago they came into the hands of Michael Zahs a teacher in Washington sprung from generations of Iowa farming stock.
Saving Brinton is a fascinating documentary that as the directors said at the Q&A started out with its focus on the film history material which Michael strove to rouse interest in over all those years but which became more the background to a story about Michael and the community of rural Iowa in which he is rooted.
It's a wonderful film and Michael's a wonderful chap but he seems to have only one tie, seen several times in the film and worn on his visit to the festival. It features Grant Wood's painting American Gothic. Not a pretty tie in my view.
On to a second excellent film. This time it's a Scottish movie about a highland hunting trip that goes horribly wrong. That's as much of the plot as it's fair to give away The trailer reveals too much in my opinion so don't look for it. The film is either a thrilling drama or a dramatic thriller but either way it's intense, quite scary and undeniably dark. Called Calibre you can see it on Netflix from Friday.
It features in quite large letters in the credits a girl I recruited to do costumes for a show I directed some years ago. She was at art college at the time and it's lovely to see she's making her mark in an intensely precarious industry so a sixth star to the film for that.
I was looking forward to seeing Ornette: Made in America. Otherwise I wouldn't have a bought a ticket would I? 1959 is regarded as one of, if not the most creative year in jazz history. Ornette Coleman's free jazz came onto the scene then and although it's definitely not my favourite flavour I was interested in learning more about the man and his work. I don't think I did although the film features Coleman's work for jazz players and symphony orchestra, Skies of America, that I'd like to hear in its entirety.
It's not a new documentary by any means (1985) and was in the festival as part of their celebration of American women, the woman in question being the director, Shirley Clarke. She's billed as an experimental filmmaker and this is not a straightforward talking heads documentary though it's more the technical treatment that at times got in the way of my enjoyment. There are sections with very rapid cross-cutting and in particular a monologue by Coleman against a dark background bombarded by coloured lights going off and on that I found quite dizzying. Indeed I was just a little unsteady on my legs as I left the cinema, rather like coming ashore after a few days at sea.
I have mixed feelings about Never Leave Me. The film is about Syrian child refugees in Turkey. That's potentially both a politically charged and a tearjerking subject but the director takes no political position whatsoever. Politics is never mentioned. Nor is it a polemic on how terrible their plight is and how something must be done with illustrations and soundtrack to match.
It shows the children behaving in what might be considered a "normal" way, playing, squabbling, forming friendships, bunking off school and so on against the ever present background of the loss of home and parents. The one thing they don't lose is hope.
As the end credits tell us these are real children playing themselves and so far there are no happy endings.
Why are my feelings mixed? I think the film for me falls unsteadily between drama and documentary. There is not enough examination and analysis of the situation to be a satisfactory documentary but neither is there a strong enough rise and fall in the development of a storyline to make it a satisfactory drama. Don't let me put you off seeing it though.
In the closing years of the 19th century and the opening years of the 20th Frank Brinton and his wife Indiana from Washington Iowa toured their Entertainment Show. For the small communities they visited it was a magical trip out of their everyday world through lantern slides and moving pictures.
The Brintons kept everything, not just the slides and films but projectors, playbills, press cuttings account books, the lot. Thousands of items that lurked in a number of basements until over thirty years ago they came into the hands of Michael Zahs a teacher in Washington sprung from generations of Iowa farming stock.
Saving Brinton is a fascinating documentary that as the directors said at the Q&A started out with its focus on the film history material which Michael strove to rouse interest in over all those years but which became more the background to a story about Michael and the community of rural Iowa in which he is rooted.
It's a wonderful film and Michael's a wonderful chap but he seems to have only one tie, seen several times in the film and worn on his visit to the festival. It features Grant Wood's painting American Gothic. Not a pretty tie in my view.
It features in quite large letters in the credits a girl I recruited to do costumes for a show I directed some years ago. She was at art college at the time and it's lovely to see she's making her mark in an intensely precarious industry so a sixth star to the film for that.
I was looking forward to seeing Ornette: Made in America. Otherwise I wouldn't have a bought a ticket would I? 1959 is regarded as one of, if not the most creative year in jazz history. Ornette Coleman's free jazz came onto the scene then and although it's definitely not my favourite flavour I was interested in learning more about the man and his work. I don't think I did although the film features Coleman's work for jazz players and symphony orchestra, Skies of America, that I'd like to hear in its entirety.
It's not a new documentary by any means (1985) and was in the festival as part of their celebration of American women, the woman in question being the director, Shirley Clarke. She's billed as an experimental filmmaker and this is not a straightforward talking heads documentary though it's more the technical treatment that at times got in the way of my enjoyment. There are sections with very rapid cross-cutting and in particular a monologue by Coleman against a dark background bombarded by coloured lights going off and on that I found quite dizzying. Indeed I was just a little unsteady on my legs as I left the cinema, rather like coming ashore after a few days at sea.
I have mixed feelings about Never Leave Me. The film is about Syrian child refugees in Turkey. That's potentially both a politically charged and a tearjerking subject but the director takes no political position whatsoever. Politics is never mentioned. Nor is it a polemic on how terrible their plight is and how something must be done with illustrations and soundtrack to match.
It shows the children behaving in what might be considered a "normal" way, playing, squabbling, forming friendships, bunking off school and so on against the ever present background of the loss of home and parents. The one thing they don't lose is hope.
As the end credits tell us these are real children playing themselves and so far there are no happy endings.
Why are my feelings mixed? I think the film for me falls unsteadily between drama and documentary. There is not enough examination and analysis of the situation to be a satisfactory documentary but neither is there a strong enough rise and fall in the development of a storyline to make it a satisfactory drama. Don't let me put you off seeing it though.
Thursday, June 21, 2018
It's the season of summer concerts from local bands and Dunedin's, in which I will be playing, is on in a couple of weeks. Cue for publicity --
Some of my friends play in the Edinburgh Concert Band and I went to their Summer Sparkler. It was an excellent concert and not the least of their treats was the world premiere of a piece called Step-Up written for them under the Adopt a Composer scheme .
Naturally the composer, Gaynor Barradell, was there and gave us a rundown on the inspiration for the piece and its form. "It's an imaginary journey by bike through Edinburgh's streets, dodging traffic, pedestrians, tourists groups, spilling across steps and closes, reaching the Scottish Parliament for some trickery on the concrete walls and benches, then climbing the stoney paths of Arthur's Seat, reaching the summit, legs and lungs burning from sheer exertion."
Well I got the bit about traffic at the beginning but I can't honestly say that I would have interpreted the rest unaided and indeed even aided as I was. But I enjoyed the music. I thought it was an exhilarating and tuneful piece. I loved the final moments when one of the percussion players whirled a rope around her head. It may have been a special musical rope I suppose rather than any old rope. But in either case the quiet sound it produced was surely meant to represent the slow revolutions of a tired bicycle wheel.
Rehearsals for the Fringe show I'm in are underway. It's called Skirt and is a feminist drama. Cue for more publicity but I don't have a flyer yet so I'll direct you straight to the Fringe booking system
https://tickets.edfringe.com/whats-on/skirt
I play a somewhat unlikeable party functionary up from London to persuade my party's leader in Holyrood to ignore her loyalties to family and friends and come south to head up the opposition in Westminster. It's a lovely part. I'm not copying anyone in particular but am taking inspiration from various slimy creatures from all parties.
That brings me to a book recommendation. The Lies of the Land by Adam Macqueen is a wonderful compendium of the prevarications, half truths and downright lies of politicians and other state actors at home and abroad. It ranges from Churchill to Trump and is a must read for the sceptical and the trusting alike.
The Film Festival got underway last night and its opening screening of Puzzle was graced by the presence of its director, Marc Turtletaub, and its star, Kelly Macdonald. It's a super film, really warm, gentle and funny in which Macdonald's character moves from being the quiet housewife whose every action is directed towards the comfort of her husband and sons to being a person realising her innate talents and expressing her individuality.
Naturally the composer, Gaynor Barradell, was there and gave us a rundown on the inspiration for the piece and its form. "It's an imaginary journey by bike through Edinburgh's streets, dodging traffic, pedestrians, tourists groups, spilling across steps and closes, reaching the Scottish Parliament for some trickery on the concrete walls and benches, then climbing the stoney paths of Arthur's Seat, reaching the summit, legs and lungs burning from sheer exertion."
Well I got the bit about traffic at the beginning but I can't honestly say that I would have interpreted the rest unaided and indeed even aided as I was. But I enjoyed the music. I thought it was an exhilarating and tuneful piece. I loved the final moments when one of the percussion players whirled a rope around her head. It may have been a special musical rope I suppose rather than any old rope. But in either case the quiet sound it produced was surely meant to represent the slow revolutions of a tired bicycle wheel.
Rehearsals for the Fringe show I'm in are underway. It's called Skirt and is a feminist drama. Cue for more publicity but I don't have a flyer yet so I'll direct you straight to the Fringe booking system
https://tickets.edfringe.com/whats-on/skirt
I play a somewhat unlikeable party functionary up from London to persuade my party's leader in Holyrood to ignore her loyalties to family and friends and come south to head up the opposition in Westminster. It's a lovely part. I'm not copying anyone in particular but am taking inspiration from various slimy creatures from all parties.
That brings me to a book recommendation. The Lies of the Land by Adam Macqueen is a wonderful compendium of the prevarications, half truths and downright lies of politicians and other state actors at home and abroad. It ranges from Churchill to Trump and is a must read for the sceptical and the trusting alike.
The Film Festival got underway last night and its opening screening of Puzzle was graced by the presence of its director, Marc Turtletaub, and its star, Kelly Macdonald. It's a super film, really warm, gentle and funny in which Macdonald's character moves from being the quiet housewife whose every action is directed towards the comfort of her husband and sons to being a person realising her innate talents and expressing her individuality.
Thursday, June 14, 2018
I was invited to a reception held last night in the Scottish Parliament to celebrate the 20th anniversary of the Young Lyceum. I'm sure I owe my invitation to my sons whose Christmas presents a couple of years ago were replaced by a donation to help fund the participation at the Lyceum of youngsters who would otherwise not have had the means.
We were ushered through the building to the garden lobby where various politicos and journalists buzzed about on their everyday business.
Then some MSP chappie whose name I didn't catch and whose face I didn't recognise kicked it off, apologising for the absence of the culture minister who was doubtless at a higher level beanfeast.
David Greig with the assistance of a couple of youngsters made a brief speech. We were then treated to a performance of sorts by the multitudes of the Young Lyceum disposed about the steps leading down from the chamber.
It wasn't a lavish affair but there was enough vino and vol au vent to ensure I left on the tipsy side, though not too tipsy to forget to recover my mini swiss army knife wrested from my keyring by the security staff when I arrived.
There were a couple of old friends there and through them I made some pleasant new acquaintances so all in all it was a good evening.
We were ushered through the building to the garden lobby where various politicos and journalists buzzed about on their everyday business.
Then some MSP chappie whose name I didn't catch and whose face I didn't recognise kicked it off, apologising for the absence of the culture minister who was doubtless at a higher level beanfeast.
David Greig with the assistance of a couple of youngsters made a brief speech. We were then treated to a performance of sorts by the multitudes of the Young Lyceum disposed about the steps leading down from the chamber.
It wasn't a lavish affair but there was enough vino and vol au vent to ensure I left on the tipsy side, though not too tipsy to forget to recover my mini swiss army knife wrested from my keyring by the security staff when I arrived.
There were a couple of old friends there and through them I made some pleasant new acquaintances so all in all it was a good evening.
Tuesday, June 12, 2018
This is the lovely Tulchan Lodge in Perthshire where I spent a recent weekend with friends. It took my taxi driver a while to find it but near midnight it was located thanks to a tipsy weekender on the lookout for a stripper.
Here's the view from the garden.
The same hills at sunset.
Nearby was Loch Freuchie which some of us walked round on the Saturday afternoon. Seven miles delightful walking in warm sunshine (or a somewhat tiring trek for the less fit amongst us) .
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