We Heart SEone

A badly-needed night of bouncy ass-shaking, shrieky yodeling and general mis-behaviour. The fact that there was an entire room dedicated to trance revival, and populated by over-30s like us who still remember when trance was a "new thing", made it all the more fun...

Hels and Hooky on top form. Marriage clearly hasn't changed their sense of fun...

old joy

a film with will oldham - aka bonnie prince billy.
how exciting is that?
they say it's good too...

the third man

ah orson...

Mysterious Skin

I rarely rave about films. In fact, I have made more than one enemy expressing (inflicting?) my opinions about lack of political depth, sheer stupidity or just good-ol' bad acting in many of today's films. So I was almost surprised when tonight, after watching Gregg Araki's Mysterious Skin, I felt the sudden urge to come straight home and scrap Brokeback Mountain from my top-20 list of favourite films, replacing it with this quietly beautiful masterpiece as possibly my favourite gay film ever (well... except All About My Mother... oh, and The Thin Red Line is quite gay too... whatever...).

I had been thinking about watching it ever since being mesmerized by Brick with my dear friend Le Duc and reading his made-to-impress review about it on his blog. But I wasn't prepared for Joseph Gordon-Levitt stunning performance as Neil, a dry and hungry rent-boy craving self-destruction, which was a far cry - in retrospect - from the stylised character of Brendan in Brick. Equally captivating the performances of Brady Corbet (Brian), and especially of Elizabeth Shue, of Leaving Las Vegas memory, as Neil's mother.


The film is beautifully narrated, and its story is not one easy to say. This becomes clear from one of the very first scenes, when a traumatised 9 year-old Brian wakes with a bleeding nose in the darkness of his house's basement without recalling what happened to him in the previous 5 hours. The rest of the movie is a relentless unfolding of events that will eventually lead Neil and Brian to remember, 10 years later, what had happened during those hours that had long been buried inside their minds.

This is not the first film to talk about pedophilia. In fact, there have been several attempts over the last few years, two of which stand out for their outstanding - if somewhat opposing - achievements: Todd Solondz's Happiness (in which I was first made aware of the unsettling bravura of Philip Seymour Hoffman) and Clint Eastwood's Mystic River. But, for all their undoubted excellence, both films seemed too eager to take a stand on the subject, the former through its uncompromising refusal to pass judgement, the latter through its unquestionable drawing of moral boundaries.

So it was with a certain relief when I realised that Myserious Skin wasn't really about pedophilia, but rather about the lives of those that had been scarred by it. A subtle difference, perhaps, but one that is important, because when talking about pedophilia it is all too easy to fall into the obvious, the pathetical or the prescriptive. Mysterious Skin avoids all these traps
and delivers one of the deepest, most impressive canvases on the subject.

So my final thought goes to UFOs and flying saucers, which play an important role in the film, and which for some reason I was looking into this afternoon while preparing a presentation on social contructivism (sic!). I found this site with an extraordinary picture collection of UFO depictions found in ancient artefacts - vases, carvings, figurines, frescos, paintings, tapestries, you name it - from Pre-History to Renaissance Europe. And started wondering if they're keeping something from us...

Devendra Banhart

In line with my recent deep-dive into the indie-rock/folk realm, partially influenced by some of my friends' excellent tastes, but mainly due to my contrary reaction to PDF's obstinate refusal to consider it anything more than harmonious noise, here's Devendra Banhart, a beautiful gem of eclectic poetry, whose sounds have been compared to those of Nick Drake and Daniel Johnston and Timy Tim...

You can listen to his 'I feel just like a child' on his Cripple Crow website... Here are the beautiful lyrics:

Well I feel just like a child
Yeah I feel just like a child
Well I feel just like a child
Well I feel just like a child
From my womb to my tomb
I guess I’ll always be a child

Well some people try and treat me like a man
Yeah some people try and treat me like a man
Well I guess they just don’t understand
Well some people try and treat me like a man
They think I know shit
But that’s just it
I’m a child

Well I need you to tell me what to wear
Yeah I need you to help and comb my hair
Yeah I need you to help tie my shoes
Yeah I need you to come and keep me amused
From my cave to my grave
I guess I’ll always be a child

Well I need you to help me reach the door
And I need you to walk me to the store
And I need you to please explain the war
And I need you to heal me when I’m sore
You can tell by my smile
That I’m a child

And I need you to sit me on your lap
And I need you to make me take my nap
Could you first pull out a book and
Read me some of that
Cause I need you to make me take my nap

And I need you to recognize my friends
Cause they’re there even though you don’t see them
They got their own share of plate and a seat
You know I won’t touch my food unless they eat
From the roof to the floor I'll crawl around some more
I’m a child

And I need you to help me blow my nose
And I need you to help me count my toes
And I need you to help me put on my clothes
And I need you to hide it when it shows
From being my daddy’s sperm to being packed in an urn
I’m a child

And when I steal you gotta smack me 'til I cry
Don’t you stop 'til the tears run dry
See I was born thinking under the sky
Didn’t belong to a couple of old white guys
From sucking on my mother’s breast
To when they lay my tomb to rest
I’m a child yeah

Well I’m a little child
Well I’m a little child
I guess I’m always be
A little child

Beirut

No, not the sad capital of Lebanon. The 20 y.o. musical phenomenon that is Zach Condon, with his trumpet, his self-imposed reclusion in Santa Fe, his Parisian journey of self-discovery, his love for Kusturica and his 10-strong Balkan-sounding band.

Thanks to John for the amazing discovery. Here's a postcard from Italy from his Gulag Orkestar.

so very tired...

Can I just say, I am going to bed before 11. This is unheard of and a clear sign that when I decided I'd go back to uni I had NO IDEA what I was getting myself into. I have spent the WHOLE weekend in the library learning about the Dollar Wall Street Regime, as well as epistemological and ontological interpretations of the concept of globalization. Now, really, what have I done to deserve this?

[the picture is from explodingdog's website, clearly a genius]

Tea Party

I was trying to explain to an American guy what London's Sloanies look like. Then Molly thankfully sent me this to fill in the picture...

stupid jokes...

Okso I have been blogging on my serious blog all night, have been reading serious books all day and have been discussing serious issues throughout.

Now I am tired.

And I want to be shallow.

So here's a set of 2 Jewish Mother jokes (also applicable to Catholic Mothers...):

Why don't Jewish mothers drink?
Alcohol interferes with their suffering.

A young Jewish man excitedly tells his mother he's fallen in love and that he is going to get married. He says, "Just for fun, Ma, I'm going to bring over 3 women and you try and guess which one I'm going to marry." The mother agrees.
The next day, he brings three beautiful women into the house and sits them down on the couch and they chat for a while. He then says, "Okay, Ma, guess which one I'm going to marry." She immediately replies, "The one on the right." "That's amazing, Ma. You're right. How did you know? The Jewish mother replies, "I don't like her."

Oh and here's one with the Pope. How lucky can you get?

About a century or two ago, the Pope decided that all the Jews had to leave the Vatican. Naturally there was a big uproar from the Jewish community. So the Pope made a deal. He would have a religious debate with a member of the Jewish community. If the Jew won, the Jews could stay. If the Pope won, the Jews would leave. The Jews realized that they had no choice. So they picked a middle aged man named Moishe to represent them. Moishe asked for one addition to the debate. To make it more interesting, neither side would be allowed to talk. The pope agreed.

The day of the great debate came. Moishe and the Pope sat opposite each other for a full minute before the Pope raised his hand and showed three fingers. Moishe looked back at him and raised one finger.

The Pope waved his fingers in a circle around his head. Moishe pointed to the ground where he sat.

The Pope pulled out a wafer and a glass of wine. Moishe pulled out an apple.

The Pope stood up and said, "I give up. This man is too good. The Jews can stay."

An hour later, the cardinals were all around the Pope asking him what happened. The Pope said: "First I held up three fingers to represent the Trinity. He responded by holding up one finger to remind me that there was still one God common to both our religions. Then I waved my finger around me to show him that God was all around us. He responded by pointing to the ground and showing that God was also right here with us. I pulled out the wine and the wafer to show that God absolves us from our sins. He pulled out an apple to remind me of original sin. He had an answer for everything. What could I do?"

Meanwhile, the Jewish community had crowded around Moishe. "What happened?" they asked. "Well," said Moishe, "First he said to me that the Jews had three days to get out of here. I told him that not one of us was leaving. Then he told me that this whole city would be cleared of Jews. I let him know that we were staying right here." "And then?" asked a woman. "I don't know," said Moishe. "He took out his lunch and I took out mine."

A suggestion to the LSE Film Society

Asked by the LSE Film Society which films I thought they should screen this year for our intellectual pleasure and development, I pillaged Cuban Boy's, Frappity Frap's and my personal YMDb selections and surely dazzled them with unrequited sophistication...

So here goes...

1. The Mission
2. Todo sobre mi madre
3. L' Avventura
4. Festen
5. El Ángel exterminador
6. Il Gattopardo
7. Barry Lyndon
8. Sleepy Hollow
9. Trois couleurs: Bleu
10. Teorema
11. The Deer Hunter
12. Dangerous Liaisons
13. Les Triplettes de Belleville
14. Central do Brasil
15. The Thin Red Line
16. Monty Python's the Meaning of Life
17. Akira
18. Eat, Drink, Man, Woman
19. The Godfather
20. Three Seasons
21. Fanny och Alexander
22. Babettes gæstebud
23. Paris Texas
24. 2046
25. The Sweet Hereafter
26. Days of Heaven
27. El Espíritu de la colmena
28. The Lady Eve
29. Love and Death
30. Céline et Julie vont en bateau
31. North by Northwest
32. The Insider
33. Mysterious Skin
34. Donnie Darko
35. Fargo
36. Urbania
37. Far from Heaven
38. The Third Man
39. Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb
40. Safe

Let's see if they make good use of our combined knowledge...

Akira

Silently watching the 100 greatest animated movies unfolding beneath my eyes a few days ago. I am a cartoon-junkie.
Some old time favourites. Some piles of rubbish. And then... Akira...
Need to see it again. Soon.

From the made-for-cinema film Superstar...

... starring a young Molly Shannon. I cry every time I see it.

Don't get me started. Twice.

For those of you with a bit of time to spare, two important and thought-provoking contributions to current debates on freedom of speech (the first one via Chicken Yoghurt, the second one via All Things Beautiful)

In the first one, What's wrong with blasphemy? Stewart Lee discusses blasphemy and its place in comedy with various political and religious commentators, in the wake of the outrage sparked by the BBC's decision to broadcast Jerry Springer, the Opera.



Parts 2, 3, 4, 5 and 6 here.


The second one was aired two nights ago on Channel 5. In No Excuses For Terror David Aaronovitch, veteran journalist and commentator, asks himself: "Who is really responsible for the suicide bombers that target us? Is it the fault of George Bush or Tony Blair? Are we all somehow to blame?" Aaronovitch explains where he believes the left has gone wrong on Israel, Palestine, the War in Iraq and the War on Terror. In fact, while I think the documentary has somewhat reduced the debate to an us vs them contention, its value lies in its capacity to bring to the surface several arguments that - in the current mode of self-censorship that many media embrace on anything to do with Islam and its violent offshoots - are often unheard.



Parts 2, 3 and 4 here.

On beauty (2)

As a follow-up to a stimulating blog-encounter, my take on beauty (clearly not the only one!), and a humble challenge to the political views of someone who believes that art can be a great binder in all things opposite...


Roof of Tamerlane's mausoleum in Samarkand, Uzbekistan



The Sultanahmet Mosque and the Hagia Sophia in Istanbul, Turkey



Great Mosque of Djenné, Mali



Mosque of Qairawan, Tunis, Tunisia



Pillars and carving at the Alhambra in Granada, Spain



The Shah Mosque in Isfahan, Iran



The Taj Mahal in Agra, India

On beauty

If you type "beautiful" onto Google, this is one of the first images to come up. Why?

On maps and global warming

On the subject of maps and their different applications, I came accross this interesting site on Clive Bates' blog, which is trying to predict, through an application using Google Maps, the impact of the rising sea levels on the continent's coastline. This is what Italy will look like when the Greenland ice shelf will melt, adding 7m to the current sea level. This is how Alex Tingle, the application designer, did it.

Now compare it to this population concentration map based on the 1972 census, which is clearly outdated, but gives an idea of the ratio between floods and displacement:


As you can see, not only Venice, but also all the Venetian inland would be flooded, including Padua, Vicenza, Rovigo and possibly the southern edges of Treviso. All the coastline of Romagna, including the ancient capital of the Western Roman Empire, Ravenna, together with Rimini and all the tourist resorts of the Adriatic coast. Incidentally, this is the area that hosts the highest concentration of Italian SMEs, and is considered Italy's economic heart. Oh, and say bye bye to the leaning tower of Pisa too...

An Inconvenient Truth

One simple statement: you MUST see this film. Don't take my word for it. Take those of hundreds of critics and film reviewers who have praised the film and its moral imperative so far:

"In 39 years, I have never written these words in a movie review, but here they are: You owe it to yourself to see this film. If you do not, and you have grandchildren, you should explain to them why you decided not to." [Roger Ebert, on the Chicago Sun Times]

"If you see only one movie this year, make it An Inconvenient Truth. It may not be the year's best movie, or its most entertaining, but it's certainly the most terrifyingly crucial." [Jeffrey M. Anderson, on Combustible Celluloid]

"Every man, woman and child in the country should see this film, if necessary at the point of a gun." [Philip French, on the Guardian Unlimited]

For the more political implicatons of the film - so I don't bore those of you who don't really care - check out my full review on GlobaLab's Blog.

Planet Earth

I seem to be developing a complete addiction for the latest BBC nature programme, Planet Earth, which was broadcasted a few months ago and gripped the nation with some of the most stunning footage ever recorded in the wilderness. In my opinion, they have reached one of the highest peaks of what I would define aesthetic environmentalism. Some of the images of this programme are by far more artistic than most of what is normally referred to as art, in that they move with their beauty and carry a strong socio-political message to a vast audience - in this case, an urgent reminder of our responsibility to protect this fragile planet. Now judge for yourselves, and then tell me if you saw anything even close to the power of these images at the Tate Modern...:

Oh my

Totty's at it again. Oh my, oh my. When will she learn, that totty? Never, uh?

Another first...

Not content with my "first day back at school", I also had my first kickboxing training session today. Needless to say, I am shattered, even more so than after the horrendous hot yoga Lady V dragged me to on Monday. Clearly, we live in a dangerous world, we need to know how to defend ourselves, etc etc. But there are other reasons why I am attracted to this not-so-ancient martial art. This one, for example:


In fact, ever since Little Pea dragged me to a Muay Thai class last year, which started a 3-months long passion, only interrupted by a Polish cartoonist driving into me while I cycled across Ludgate Circus, I've rediscovered my passion for martial arts. I'm saying rediscovered, because I practiced fencing during my time at university, from age 19 to age 23, which I thoroughly enjoyed, although I was admittedly rather bad at it. Fencing (scherma in Italian) is by all accounts the Western European martial art, rooted in the ancient art of Medieval warfare, and characterised by archane and very complex rituals and rules. The only difference with Asian martial arts is that when you are fighting you look like this:


Even Brad Pitt would look ridiculous in that gear. Now you probably understand why I switched to kickboxing...