Early 1980s belonged to androgynous stars - Boy George and Annie Lennox were all the rage, attention grabbing image (with spiky, colourful hair) was the thing of the day and than new phenomenon of MTV thrived on all sorts of attitudes. In all that cornucopia of various music, synth-pop had some of the most famous representatives in two duets that inspired countless imitations, Eurhytmics and Yazoo, both fronted by powerful girl singers. The latter had amazing Alison Moyet with her unusual, distinctive timbre that actually initially confused me, since their record covers lacked artists's pictures I simply assumed this must be guy singing. After short burst of stardom, Yazoo disbanded and Moyet went solo, lo and behold, it turned out she is a woman. Kind of big, black, sassy mama, only actually white.
We all held our breath as Moyet went solo and it turned out huge smash, with at four mega hits. Where Yazoo had spectacularly nervous, jumpy energy, this collection was decidedly smoother pop, still graced with that monumental, soulful voice. Where many artists flounder without protective umbrella of their band, Moyet was clearly here to stay and she had such a strong presence that her solo career was not only undoubted but guaranteed. No cheap gimmicks or cheesecake pictures, this girl was all about powerful voice and strong material. Some might say that this 1984 album sounds dated today and surely you can place it squarely in mid-1980s but back than its production was cutting edge - synthesisers galore - and not only that it actually sounds even better than I remember the first time around, but it made us faithfully following her ever since. I am not nostalgic about 1980s at all, after all I lived trough the decade and know all the hits inside out but this is one of the rare 1980s albums I still love from the start to finish.
Inspired with 1930s series of detective Mr.Wong movies, I decided to check out something even older, the movie character that was actually even more famous than Mr.Wong, namely detective Charlie Chan who had his own following and even more movies made about. Both were Asian detectives (Charlie Chan from Honolulu) and were representatives of curious trend where ethnic minorities slowly found their way into mainstream cinema without being servants or such. Since I knew next to nothing about Charlie Chan, I was curious what was all the fuss about.
Well, its an old movie.
There are other, even older movies like "Nosferatu" or "Metropolis" that are still hugely enjoyable and deservedly considered masterpieces but "The Black Camel" rusted all over. Even the fact that its mostly filmed (completely unnecessary) on exotic Honolulu locations means only that we hear more wind than elsewhere. What was probably cute and funny back than (Charlie Chan's quasi philosophy and his accented English phrases) today comes off just as silly. If producers wanted to give his character some dignity, it all goes wrong with insufferable supporting character of his feeble minded assistant. The plot goes all over the place with way too many people involved, to such degree that we hardly remember who is who. The only interesting thing is fact that Hollywood back than constantly used very much same team of people so in this otherwise not very memorable movie we recognise two actors from "Dracula" namely wonderful Bela Lugosi and Dwight Frye - Lugosi with his frightening eyes and foreign accent is obviously trapped in a typecast hell and for the first time you almost feel sorry for him as a human being destined to play freaks. Frye is equally fascinating as a butler, he basically walks trough two scenes and has more presence than anybody around. These two are the main reason why you should watch this movie.
Unfortunately, it seems that Mr.Wong detective movies simply burned themselves out too fast - director William Nigh made five of them rapidly between 1938 and 1940 (two were released in 1940) and this was final, actually Monogram Pictures decided to try with a completely different team and "Phantom of Chinatown" being third Mr.Wong movie in 1940 was simply not so successful. First of all, its a different director, than most importantly there is no more wonderful Boris Karloff in the main role - Karloff didn't look Asian at all but he gave the movies certain dignity and star attraction. Gone is also delightfully dizzy journalist Marjorie Reynolds and basically the only familiar face left is Grant Withers as police captain, who suddenly looks and feels depressed without his pals.
As Mr.Wong now we have real Chinese actor Keye Luke - he is fine and politically correct Wong but its difficult to inherit the role so strongly identified with another actor. It actually took me some time to realise there is no Karloff in the movie and I wondered what is this guy doing in here. The only female role is now played by Lotus Long who is mysterious enough that audience can't understand her motives. Although there is a typical Mr.Wong plot (connected with secret Temple of Eternal Fire) the huge change of the familiar cast makes it feel somehow less interesting and contrived - audiences probably felt the same, because this was the last Mr.Wong movie. Its really pity and sad end of really wonderful old fashioned detective saga. Guess I should have stopped with previous "Doomed to Die" movie, because without Karloff its simply not the same.
In my opinion, greed and overproduction eventually finished Mr.Wong movies - no less than six of them were made in only three years and though audience loved them, perhaps they all became a little bit hard to distinguish from each other. They always had same director and same team (wonderful Boris Karloff as completely unlikely Mr.Wong, police captain Grant Withers and a ditzy dame Marjorie Reynolds), they looked very much alike and felt very similar - police captain yells, ditzy journalist flirts with him and Mr.Wong quietly solves the problem. There was a certain comfort in watching them again and again but this was hardly something serious, it felt more like a friendly Sunday afternoon TV show.
"Doomed to Die" looks, sounds and feels exactly like all the other previous Mr.Wong movies - there is a victim, apparently killed in a closed room and usual suspects floating around while Mr.Wong comes to his conclusions. Young couple divided because of the parents arguments, mysterious chauffeur, smug secretary and so on. If you have seen one Mr.Wong movie, you have seen them all. Karloff is delightful as usual and Reynolds confused me because suddenly she changed the hair colour, turning from that recognisable blondie into brunette. The only really memorable thing about this movie is the fact that this was last Mr.Wong movie made by this particular team. For whatever reasons, Monogram Pictures will try to continue with completely different director and actors but without success.
Yes, dear reader, its that time of the year when your truly enjoys vacation and has obviously lots of time on my hands, enough to browse youtube and discover what was happening on Eurovision in all these years when we remember only winners - my own favourites never won, by the way - I actually have really good time going trough various competitions and discovering songs and performers that somehow slipped by. Back in April I covered years from 1972 to 1985 and unfortunately now I must go into decade that is probably my least favourite, as I lived trough crashing synthesisers of 1980s & 1990s and don't feel nostalgic about those years at all. But I will try to find at least one interesting song per year.
E de det här du kallar kärlek? (Is this what you call love?) by Monica Törnell & Lasse Holm
Swaggering 1986 duet between Swedish pop stars that is actually not bad at all, its just that its not so different from the rest of 1980s pop music around that time. It is a good time song that I can imagine being played around bars and the only one from that particular year that I actually liked.
Shangri La by Gerard Joling
This solid 1980s pop song didn't break any records at Eurovision but was big hit at home and I remember hearing Joling a lot in bars around Amsterdam (but at that time I had no idea what am I listening). He is actually very good singer who continued very successfully to this day.
Vi maler byen rød (We're painting the town red) by Birthe Kjær
Lady who was at the time more talked about for being veteran amongst spring chicken but her turn is actually just fine and not embarrassing at all. It is a sweet, happy little ditty that cheers you up and I tap my foot to it, obviously showing my age and preference for upbeat, sunny songs.
Bandido by Azúcar Moreno
I actually remember this performance very well, Spanish duo came on stage and had some unfortunate technical difficulties in front of international audience, but even so the song was actually very good and was often played at the time. And I still smile at introduction lifted straight up from James Brown live album, that was genius.
Kan (Here) by Duo Datz (Orna & Moshe Datz)
Irresistible duo from Israel - I have already noted that most of the time pop music from Israel really appeal to me and there is something intoxicating in melodies they offer. This is just one of the excellent tunes that invite for singalong although I have no idea what they actually sing about, but its great.
Monté La Riviè (Go Up The River) by Kali
Of course, Eurovision was always about diversity and various countries had already sent representatives with their own particular twists on local music but in my opinion it was Spanish duo Azúcar Moreno who really made splash two years earlier and perhaps inspired France to send this unusual singer with his completely off the wall ethnic song that is really memorable. Oh wait, French singers Joëlle Ursull and Amina were already there. In any case, France showed surprisingly interesting choices.
Under Stjernerne På Himlen (Under the stars of the sky) by Tommy Seebach
I always loved this happy little song and was heartbroken to find out that Seebach (who already performed on Eurovision previously) was heavily criticized and ridiculed at home for not placing better - it resulted in his alcoholism and unfortunate death soon afterwards which is terrible shame and it shows dark side of this competition. Song is actually adorable and I don't care what they say, I honestly love it - ABBA's guys composed very similar tunes and everybody loved "One of us".
Dincolo de nori by Dan Bittman
1994 was actually extremely strong year on Eurovision and I still can't get over how many interesting songs were competing that particular time - I counted at least ten favorites - of course at that point I was right in the middle of war in Croatia so Eurovision was absolutely not my priority and I don't even think I watched it but looking back today I think it was one of the best years. Its only because I have worked with so many Romanian colleagues that I somehow have soft spot for Bittman but there were also several other excellent artists that year, like Tublatanka and magnificent Edyta Górniak.
Kinek mondjam el vétkeimet? (To whom can I tell my sins?) by Friderika Bayer
OK so I decided that I simply have to add wonderful Hungarian singer Friderika Bayer in here even though I already placed Romania above for 1994 - Bayer had such a lovely song that I suddenly realised I know next to nothing about Hungarian pop music. Its just loveliest acoustic ballad that absolutely stole my heart and it was kind of Norah Jones a good decade before Norah Jones.
Dvadeset i prvi vijek by Davorin Popović
Up to this point I never have been very enthusiastic about Eurovision songs from my part of the world, because I always felt very strongly that we seriously lag behind music trends and always come as embarrassingly old fashioned (even though we actually won once) but when this singer came from besieged Sarajevo this was something to pay attention to. Not only that Davorin Popović is a music legend who means a lot to our pop music but the song was excellent and I still feel rattled about jaded audience not understanding seriousness of it all. Eurovision is a show biz circus but this is real life.
Den Vilda (The wild one) by One More Time
Hypnotic new age ballad that somehow recalls Enya and Loreena McKennitt - lovely as it was, it was just one of the many similar songs that year but I always loved it. Its absolutely beautiful, lilting kind of Celtic-pagan atmospheric lullaby but perhaps this was already done many times and audiences were attracted to something more bombastic. However, I listen music with my ears so this is my favourite of the year.
Fiumi di parole (Rivers of words) by Jalisse
I just can't get over how bad Eurovision treats Italy who had continuously sent excellent artists and besides, its such a beautiful language that personally I find indefinitely more appealing than almost anything else amongst competition. In my opinion this was one of the best songs in 1997 but jury pissed on it and Italians had enough of it, they pulled out of Eurovision afterwards for many years.
Hemel en aarde (Heaven and earth) by Edsilia Rombley
Excellent Dutch singer, kind of Ruth Jacott style and I must admit that this was absolutely smashing pop song and my absolute favorite for 1998 - I obviously went a long way since those early days when this language surprised me with its throaty sounds and nowadays I actually enjoy it. Besides I always support artists singing in their own languages.
For a thousand years by Darja Švajger
Perhaps one of the best James Bond kind of songs (that never made it to James Bond movie) this melodramatic 1999 ballad would not be out of place on some Shirley Bassey album and its great, old fashioned, bombastic ballad perfectly suited for Eurovision. Yes, it does sound as Švajger sings "I tremble in your arse" but its fine, I can live with it.
The ticket for this celebrated theatre play was part of my Christmas present and thank to a generous friend I started this year with a very interesting performance and something that is actually homegrown. Authoress Tena Štivičić and me share the same hometown and horoscope sign, however apparently she successfully studied dramaturgy and got her plays performed internationally - this particular play won New York's Susan Smith Blackburn award and was originally staged in London's Royal National Theatre so the audiences interest was definitely great and there was a lots of excited buzz around Croatian National Theatre last night.
"Three winters" happens in the same house in three different decades - 1945, 1990 and 2011 - and follows its inhabitants as they struggled with adopting to huge changes around them. Young couple in 1945 are partisans with a baby who somehow got the keys for the empty house from the government, as the previous (politically compromised) owners emigrated to Argentina and they feel intimidated with huge, luxurious space. The family in 1990 refuses to accept the facts about possibility of civil war and upcoming fall of Yugoslavia, even though ex-patriots who live and work in foreign countries know this for a long time (this is interesting to note as it really happened and we - who were right in the middle of it all - could hardly believe as possibility). Just as independent Croatia finally gets open door to EU in 2011 the very same family now faces moral dilemma as well-heeled new groom forcefully removes all the other neighbours in order to officially buy the whole house. Across the decades and generations there is also a very strong (and eccentric) presence of house real owner's daughter Karolina who was somehow left to live in here and who represents previous bourgeois society.
It was very interesting story and audience responded with laughter all the way trough as we could recognise ourselves in all of this - sometimes it wasn't pleasant because it felt like someone brought mirror perhaps just a little too close to our noses (we all know character like obnoxious, bragging Švabo) but in reality yes, this is how Croatian families talk, argue and laugh around the kitchen table. I am still not 100% sure about all that continuous cursing & swearing but my friends claim this is how people talk informally (I might be little too old fashioned, expecting theatre to be temple of art) - I simply don't find swearing neither funny nor entertaining but people around me roared with laughter so good for them. Occasionally I wondered am I going deaf as I couldn't hear half of it (and our seats were fairly close to the stage) specially when actors were not facing the audience. However, the biggest thrill was actress Nina Violić as Karolina who in my opinion absolutely stole the show - everybody had good lines but she relished hers, she wallowed in hers like in some beautiful silky satin sheets and I felt as I could hug her. There was also a surprisingly strong turn by completely supporting character (forcefully evicted neighbour) played by Mislav Čavajda who basically has only one scene but he is unforgettable in it, I found this a sign of really great acting when in such ensemble play one supporting actor stands out so memorably. As a strong-willed, scheming young bride Luca Anić also had a great moment in the spotlight, although the character repels me. It was a very solid cast enjoying surprisingly strong script, though some of the names I found maybe just a little bit overrated. Violić, Čavajda and Anić were excellent.
Another vacation read and while I'm still enjoying being relaxed, sleepy and purring with pleasure next to open fire (with icy winter howling outside) why not checking out something that I occasionally eyed in the bookshops for some time now. I held "The Miniaturist" in my hands just the other day, thinking this could be a good present for a friend of mine, just to find out I already gave it to her half a year ago and the book was still left unopened (its good I didn't buy another copy) so in order not to leave poor book completely forgotten and ignored in some dark corner, I decided to check it out since its already here and I am sucker for nice book covers. This one had naturally picture of some little miniature Dutch dollhouse, kind of ones I have seen in Netherlands. I have actually seen the most beautiful one in Haarlem, I think, though the author got her inspiration in Amsterdam's Rijksmuseum.
Spiritually close to "The Girl with a Pearl Earring" where Tracy Chevalier got inspired with famous Vermeer painting, "The Miniaturist" was apparently inspired with a real life Dutch dollhouse exhibited in Rijksmuseum that belonged to certain Petronella Oortman. This is where young, pretty actress-turned-writer Jessie Burton started to cook her ideas about the novel set in 17th century Amsterdam - she soaked informations about life back than, how citizens of Amsterdam lived, what they ate, wore, believed in, how did they presented themselves to the outside world and what did they cherish most of all. Burton really makes you feel like you are walking the streets of old Amsterdam with her (she correctly describes right spots in the centre of town, which I found very entertaining as I lived there), you feel the curious glances, hear the smirking comments hidden behind polite facades, taste the salted herring and smell the fog coming from the famous canals. There is a nice little plot involving young provincial bride who was being sent (sold?) by her impoverished family to big city where she starts new life in a outwardly wealthy but actually cold and stern household and if at first story progress somewhat slowly, Burton writes so well that before you know it, you got swept into reading more and more - myself, I gulped it in two readings and it actually became quite gripping afterwards.
Noteworthy are two things: Burton perfectly describes certain mindset of Amsterdam society (and this is not just 17th century but something typical of Dutchmen to this day) where outward propriety and dignity kind of apologises for accumulated wealth and where strict protestant outlook frowns at anything that shows off the wealth and pleasures (in this case, occupants of wealthy household eat the most simplest and unappealing food in order to please God with their piety, although they could easily afford something decent). Burton also looks closely at the status of 17th century women, who could manage some resemblance of independence only trough intrigues and machinations but always in a shadow of some male member of the family, as themselves they didn't have any official power. As one character in the novel notes, even in the supposedly open minded Amsterdam single woman could not live alone without appearing Spiritually close to "The Girl with a Pearl Earring" where Tracy Chevalier got inspired with famous Vermeer painting, "The Miniaturist" was apparently inspired with a real life Dutch dollhouse exhibited in Rijksmuseum that belonged to certain Petronella Oortman. This is where young, pretty actress-turned-writer Jessie Burton started to cook her ideas about the novel set in 17th century Amsterdam - she soaked informations about life back than, how citizens of Amsterdam lived, what they ate, wore, believed in, how did they presented themselves to the outside world and what did they cherish most of all. Burton really makes you feel like you are walking the streets of old Amsterdam with her (she correctly describes right spots in the centre of town, which I found very entertaining as I lived there), you feel the curious glances, hear the smirking comments hidden behind polite facades, taste the salted herring and smell the fog coming from the famous canals. There is a nice little plot involving young provincial bride who was being sent (sold?) by her impoverished family to big city where she starts new life in a outwardly wealthy but actually cold and stern household and if at first story progress somewhat slowly, Burton writes so well that before you know it, you got swept into reading more and more - myself, I gulped it in two readings and it actually became quite gripping afterwards.
Noteworthy are two things: Burton perfectly describes certain mindset of Amsterdam society (and this is not just 17th century but something typical of Dutchmen to this day) where outward propriety and dignity kind of apologizes for accumulated wealth and where strict protestant outlook frowns at anything that shows off the wealth and pleasures (in this case, occupants of wealthy household eat the most simplest and unappealing food in order to please God with their piety, although they could easily affordsomething decent). Burton also looks closely at the status of 17th century women, who could manage some resemblance of independence only trough intrigues and machinations but always in a shadow of some male member of the family, as themselves they didn't have any official power. As one character in the novel notes, even in the supposedly open minded Amsterdam single woman could not live alone without appearing promiscuous.
This is my own photograph of a Dollhouse I saw in Haarlem.
I had occasionally posted here some beautiful, old black and white photographs of old Zagreb (my hometown) but today I just discovered the most exciting collection of old photographs created by wonderful German artist Kurt Hielscher who travelled around Europe during 1910, 1920s and 1930s and published his work in several books. In 1920s he actually visited Yugoslavia (at the time officially known as Kingdom of Serbs, Croats and Slovenes) and took some excellent pictures that really captured diversity of life back than all over various places, from Alps in the North (Slovenia) all the way down to south (Macedonia) and I think these photographs are just magnificent. Almost two decades later Rebecca West will publish her classic travelogue "Black Lamb and Grey Falcon" that describes what she had seen during her journeys trough Balkans and I am almost 100% sure this is what she had seen herself, because outside of big towns life never changed much with time.
During 1960s Serbian actor-turned-singer Živan Milić almost single-handedly managed to revive the music genre of starogradska, nostalgic, small town music often backed with strings and usually performed in bars and restaurants, songs usually covering subjects of love, passion, gypsy life and yearning. There is something timeless about this kind of music and indeed its roots go way back trough centuries, to the days of Austro-Hungarian Empire and its nomadic Gypsy musicians who would travel from place to place to perform on weddings and such. Spiritually (if not musically) I would even dare to compare it with Portuguese Fado as both genres rely on heartbreak, disappointment, sadness and fatalism (but can occasionally surprise with joyful ode to happiness and drinking, another side of the coin).
Živan Milić had not only classic, good look of an actor but also a very attractive, impressive and sonorous baritone voice perfectly suited to this kind of ballads. At the time of this recording he was in his 30s and in a full power of that battlefield voice - repertoire here is without exception traditional music (with even two instrumentals thrown in) and everything here displays wonderful control of emotions, not only as musician but also as an actor who delights in lyrics. When he sings something like reflective gypsy ballad "Kad mi pišeš, mila mati" or "Ko siroče rastao sam" you can just weep and pour another drink. I always found interesting how these musicians - who basically decidedly focused on continuation of tradition - worked and existed along with all the other musicians who performed in fields of popular/rock/jazz genres and even though singers of starogradska music never got much of media attention, they always had strong cult following and continued to work after many other trends faded away. I even believe that people like Milić accumulated more respect (if not commercial visibility) and deserved status of true artists, unlike most of pop singers who would eventually get swept aside with new fashions. Just wonderful album and timeless music that still sounds excellent. Milić was a lion amongst lilliputians.
Although nothing makes me more happy than old black and white classics, obviously I just had to poke my nose at another mega-hyped blockbuster bursting with special effects. And perhaps its time to face the obvious truth - I am absolutely, perfectly fine if I never see another special effects filled movie in my life. All those "Lord of the Rings" and similar fantasy movies were fine back than but I just had enough. Not that I didn't enjoy them, yes I did when everything was still new - I even remember the very first "Superman" way back in the 1980s and how thrilling it all was - but now, at this point it seems that movies are done exclusively and only with tons of special effects until they stupefy the audience into coma and really the time has come that cinema production has to change or else we will all become zombies soaking in another computer animation after another.
The original "Harry Potter" phenomenon was cute. I must admit that the very first book didn't overwhelm me and I wondered what was all the fuss about, but eventually later I really started enjoying the sequels, even liked the movies which were surprisingly entertaining, visually perfect and close to the novels. I still think it was wonderful that series made children all over the world start reading again and J.K.Rowling really deserves our love for it. However, I am always little suspicious about anything that even hints at merchandise, advertisements, marketing and franchise oriented products. So naturally I even approached this movie with reservations.
The story happens way before "Harry Potter" in 1920s when young wizard Newt Scamander arrives from UK with magic suitcase filled with fantastic beasts who escape and run around the town, creating danger, hysteria and problems for Magical Congress of the United States of America (MACUSA) who strictly forbids magic in public places. Along the way Scamander encounters expected friends and enemies, there is a comic sidekick Jacob Kowalski and two witch sisters, dangerous wizard (Colin Farrell who obviously didn't understand that accepting this kind of role means everything else he ever did will be overshadowed in the future) and some demonic orphans controlled by evil spinster. The script is actually not bad at all and there is interesting story somewhere deep inside but totally eclipsed by special effects that so ubiquitously twirl in front of our eyes, constantly, non stop and never ending to the effect that at certain point I noticed that movie just goes on and on forever. Honestly, last 30 minutes were pure agony where I just couldn't wait for all of this to finish. My friends thought the movie was "great" but for me this was overdose of special effects and I decided this is not for me. From now on, only documentaries and old classics.
In the early 1970s there was a short-lived trend of Jazz singers recording with acoustic guitarists - probably as a conscious break from Big Bands - that resulted with some beautiful, meditative and reflective music in the intimate settings. Ella Fitzgerald recorded several of those with Joe Pass and glamorous beauty Lena Horne had another with Hungarian guitarist Gábor Szabó so this is similar attempt to tackle vocal-and-guitar repertoire while simultaneously bridging the gap between Jazz standards and contemporary pop music.
Long known for her vocal acrobatics and stratospheric high C, Cleo Laine could indeed tone it down when occasion demands as shown during her performance in "Showboat" on a theatre stage, where she surprised and delighted everybody by singing classic Jerome Kern score without jazzing it up. Here she teams with classical guitarist John Williams on repertoire consisting mostly on current pop ballads - closer in spirit to Horne/Gábor collaboration than Fitzgerald/Pass as music selection leans decidedly to easy listening ("Killing me softly", "Eleanor Rigby" , "If") while Jobim's "Wave" and few less known John Dankworth originals fare much better. More subdued and reflective in this setting, Laine presents different side of her art - without orchestra blasting behind her, she is actually completely new artist, particularly on famous "He was beautiful" (movie theme from "The Deer Hunter") for which she wrote her own lyrics. Collaboration was perhaps not strictly Jazz as both artists don't stray too much from original melodies but it proved successful enough to produce 1983. sequel which was perhaps even better as it includes more original material.
Close - occasionally even felt like too close - look at the life of showbiz icon whose life encompassed everything from Cotton Club, 1940s Hollywood in M-G-M days, Las Vegas stardom and 1960s civil rights movement to late career bloom in 1980s and beyond. In fact, this lady covers the whole 20th century. I wanted to read this book forever and it was even better than I expected as it works on two levels: not only as psychological portrait of its subject but also as a much wider, panoramic sweep of the whole society and how it changed with time. James Gavin took a heroic task that could have easily result in just another idolised celebrity biography but he is too intelligent for that - by poking the story from different angles and allowing the reader to come to his own conclusions, he sympathises but only to the point, never shying away from obvious truth no matter how unflattering it might be.
The book was very detailed and fascinating as it presents not only popular perception of Horne as a heroine-who-survived-all-odds but closely inspects the cracks in the image she cultivated trough the decades. It would be too simplistic to focus only on sanctified, cleaned up picture of black beauty who was not allowed and constantly wronged in racially segregated post-WW2 America but as Gavin points, she was in fact pampered and treated far better than anybody else (to the point that other black actors resented her) and as for her sporadic and completely decorative movie work, lack of serious roles might had more to do with her acting talent than with racial prejudices, which unconsciously Horne must have known because it was easier to boast about what might have been than to admit she often pulled out of projects proposed to her. Well documented involvement in 1960s civil rights protests comes off as a personal, angry crusade against the world that wronged her and black community took it with suspicion - she was not some tired Rosa Parks refusing to give up her seat in a bus but fashion plate driven in limousines from one well paid Las Vegas job to another. Gavin also explores Horne's music and explains how her image constantly eclipsed everything else - she was successful as glamorous nightclub performer but never taken seriously as a singer and public rarely bought her albums, finding something icy and off-putting about her cobra-like persona. To some extent, most of successful performers might be opportunists but Horne's willingness to always blame others (and create her own version of story) eventually catches up with her and under close scrutiny shows lifelong anger and hatred that curiously have a lot in common with her old nemesis, Ethel Waters. Both women were scarred by bad experiences, sacrificed personal happiness for success in the business and were quick to construct their own story when it suited them. That late career bloom (famous celebrated "The Lady and her Music" show), Gavin explains, was simply another carefully prepared and acted role that celebrated longevity in business, while obscuring and twisting the facts.
Undisputed king of starogradska and traditional folk music, Zvonko Bogdan is such a towering presence in his genre that it sometimes easy to take him for granted - not only that his name became a synonym for particular, quaint and sweetly old fashioned, nostalgic songs but we can't even imagine this whole kind of music without him. In our collective minds he represents tradition that probably goes way back in the days when the whole territory was still part of Austro-Hungarian Empire, hence his music bears heavy (and obvious) Hungarian influences - imagine any smoke-filled bar where customers are already two sheets to the wind, drinks are flowing, fiddlers tug at the heartstrings and Bogdan is here in his element, singing songs about women, horses and good old days. Than to top it all, he joyously starts that old one about pretty gypsy girl and you can just imagine the whole atmosphere exploding.
Bogdan is actually not a showy singer at all - his voice, style and bearing were always very gentlemanly and reserved, he is a smooth operator who does magic with storytelling. When he gently croons about travelling trough the night on a carriage to his beloved, you can imagine the whole picture. Though he often worked with the best musicians in the land (remember legendary tamburitza virtuoso Janika Balázs?), to my ears he was always at his best when backed with fiddlers and this is why this particular album represents the quintessential appeal of his music. Almost everything here has Hungarian background - with one or two traditional folk songs thrown in - and while fiddlers burn the place down, Bogdan appears to have time of his life. By his own admission, these are the songs he memorised from a childhood and not only he has clear affection for this music but with recordings like this he gave it new life and listeners who treasure it across generations and borders. Timeless music.
Closer to Russian gypsy ballads than to traditional folk music, the genre of so-called starogradska (old urban) music was kind of entertainment played in bars and restaurants across Central and Eastern Europe - from Prague to Vienna, Budapest and further south Belgrade, costumers would weep while fiddlers played sentimental songs about unrequited loves, separated lovers, horses, carriages and basically its all about nostalgic glorification of certain way of life that people used to live in pre-WW2 days. There is a very thin line between this and traditional folk, but this kind of music seems to have thrived in big cities between two world wars and (to my ears, at least) it has some conscious attempt to appear more sophisticated than music out there in a countryside. There is a certain poetry in it and if music is often quite simple, it demands genuine approach.
Artists like Zvonko Bogdan and Olivera Marković recorded some of the most popular songs of the genre, while classically trained Dubravka Nešović might be less remembered though she was magnificent singer in her way and vocally far more endowed than her colleagues. She had somber contralto that demanded respect, though this stately, dignified approach probably didn't sell very well - this kind of singing works very well in a small does but for duration of the whole album it might come off as little too much of a good thing. This 1973 album seems to have been compilation of previously released 1960s tracks and nicely sums her art with famous songs like "Kad Bi Ove Ruže Male", "Hladan Vetar Poljem Piri" and "Sažaljenja Mi Daj" where she is backed with various orchestras and main interest here are conductor Đorđe Karaklajić and arranger Ilija Genić who often tastefully wrapped their music in semi classical, sophisticated package that still stands the test of time. I loved their work for a long time and noticed that their names always guarantee excellent musicianship.
Well, I'll be damned - there is intelligent life somewhere out there - it seems that people actually create something interesting, intriguing and worth watching on otherwise mind-dumbing TV, but we just need to find it under garbage of all those advertisements, quiz shows, celebrity gossips and movies that overflow with violence and special effects. (God, do I sound like a old fart right now). Completely casual remark from one of my acquaintance brought me to this UK series that continues with the spirit of The Twilight Zone with unexpected twists and feeling of slight (but thrilling) paranoia. Each episode is a story with beginning and the end so its not really important in what order you watch it, though naturally I started from the beginning, completely unprepared for what I am going to experience, in fact I expected some horror (because of the title) and it took me two episodes to realise that title hints at something more perfidious and dangerous than any imaginary monster, its actually dark reflection of our computer screens and all electrical gadgets we got so accustomed and addicted to.
"The National Anthem" starts with the real bang - highly ranked member and beloved member of royal family has been kidnapped and video that kidnapper already posted everywhere on the Internet (and is watched by millions later on the news) demands that prime minister must have sexual intercourse with a pig, live, on national television or else the young Duchess will be killed. The genius of this particular story is that swiftly moves away from shockingly bizarre plot into frightening power of media and certain mentality of people around the world, who seems to be obsessed with opinions about everything - at first, public stands together with prime minister but with clock ticking (time of pig incident is specified in details) suddenly the pressure starts building to a fever pitch and public perverse fascination with everything eventually turns this act of political terrorism on its head. Even though the footage is backed by the sound irritating to human ears and government asks people to stay away from TV, the seductive call is too strong - streets, roads and whole towns are completely empty. The whole country watches in fascination.
"Fifteen Million Merits" is even better - in fact, it stayed with me much longer as it actually forcefully puts a question of public obsession with entertainment shows (and our fascination with new electronic gadgets). Its happening in a future world where people live underground and daily must cycle on exercise bikes to earn some currency (called merits), living joyless lives and are constantly brainwashed with huge TV screens that are impossible to ignore (if you switch them off, you are punished financially and merits are taken away). Two lovers see popular talent show as the only escape from this life and once they dare to enter the contest, manipulative judges (and audience consisting of avatars instead of real people) basically abuse them and force them into different kind of prison. Their intelligence and innocence is horribly re-packed and sold later like just another product on TV channels. Its truly heartbreaking and horrifying, unforgettable episode .
What is so fascinating about this program is that it touches certain nerve so its impossible to watch it like just another instant product on TV - its disturbing because it forces the viewer to face himself and understand our reality that overflows with products and consumerism. Brilliant but definitely you need to watch it one episode at the time, otherwise your brain won't switch off later.
A departure for Stephen King in a sense that he branches into different genre - worth mentioning, considering he is a highly successful writer who made a name for himself as unsurpassed master of horror and for some four decades nobody came even close to his throne. Unlike some authors who can't escape being pigeonholed in certain boxes (yes, Dan Brown, I am looking at you) King has followed his inspiration and occasionally enjoyed excursions into fantasy genre but this is to my knowledge first time he actually went head on into good, old fashioned detective story. I have read perhaps a dozen Stephen King's novels in my life - loved some ("The Shining", "'Salem's Lot", "Carrie", "Desperation"), was not exactly bowled by others, but must admit he always had a unique style and knows how to hold firmly at readers attention from the very first page. He also has somewhat intimidatingly large bibliography, lots of sequels and short story collections so it puts me off sometimes but bravely I go from time to time, always understanding that in this lifetime I probably won't manage absolutely everything he ever wrote - but that's fine as I always need a break from his novels, because he can be psychologically exhausting.
"Mr.Mercedes" is about sociopath mass murderer who loved the thrill of killing a group of absolutely random, innocent people with stolen car and now he plays the game of cat and mouse with retired detective Bill Hodges who decided to quietly do his own research without any help from police or colleagues. The wealthy woman who owned the stolen car was driven to suicide with apparent guilt, but Hodges discovers that police might have been wrong by dismissing her quickly as irritating, nasty person because killer might have later slowly push her towards the madness. Trough the story we follow simultaneously what's happening with detective Hodges and killer who on his side gloats trough e-mail communication with detective and plans another mass killings. There are several characters who eventually become very important and in fact help detective to solve the case, which King connects neatly and he definitely knows how to built a suspense. Contrary to usual fault that I previously found with King, this time there were no big explosions at the end (sometimes he just burns everything and that's it folks), this time big finale comes in the middle of some big concert but it ends just fine, in fact its almost happy end and main characters are all fine and changed for better.
In all honesty, its actually not exactly neither very special or memorable little thriller, it has recognisable authors traits and he is at his best when describing killers inner state of mind (he was always good at this), at certain moments I even felt little bit compassion for killer who had such sordid life with no love, friends or positive emotions in his life that he completely turned to a dark side, while outwardly living completely anonymous life. It makes you wonder would he perhaps turn into different person if only there was somebody to embrace him or give him support from time to time. He does fit perfectly into psychological profile of typical mass murderer and King knows it - we hardly ever really pay attention to people around us, specially if someone makes conscious effort not to be noticed. Some of killer's/authors thoughts were still very interesting:
"Every religion lies. Every moral precept is a delusion. Even the stars are a mirage. The truth is darkness, and the only thing that matters is making a statement before one enters it. Cutting the skin of the world and leaving a scar. That’s all history is, after all: scar tissue."
I have always loved these old photographs and they do delight me, although I will be the first one to admit that I have lived perfectly fine outside of Zagreb for the past twenty years and have no feelings of nostalgia whatsoever - the more I travel around the world, the more beautiful places I see and acknowledge that world is great place indeed, I have no problems of living elsewhere and in fact love it. But when I see these old pictures, it kind of thrills me because I know places very well and I am familiar with locations (I delight in the pictures of old streets anywhere around the world as long as I know the places).
First photo is from 1886 and its my very own street, which at that point in history was called Potok ("The Stream") as there used to be real stream going trough (I have never seen it, just heard about it). Monumental building on the left was long gone and the house behind it still has famous sun clock, the third house on the left was mine. Picture also clearly shows two different kind of women, there were some elegant city ladies and poorer women wearing obviously different clothes (I wouldn't be surprised they sold wares on a nearby market Dolac).
Second picture is a famous bakery that was located also in centre, in Ilica street. It was a fancy Paris bakery and the replica of the entrance still stands in Zagreb's history museum that I visited not long ago. It is quite cute picture with shop sellers at the door and the advertisement at the entrance proudly displays all sorts of fresh goodies that this particular bakery used to offer daily. These pictures are closest we can get to a time travel back in time.
First really good movie I saw in 2017 was something created just slightly earlier by South African director Gavin Hood, with the excellent list of great actors, but even more importantly the script and story are so gripping, just the way I like it. It is a kind of movie that hold you attention while simultaneously makes you think and question, which is really unusual nowadays and it kind of brings me back the faith in the movies, as I have already started believing that computer animation completely took over. There is actually computer animation somewhere in there, as very important part of the story involves drones and Hood couldn't use real ones but its all done cleverly and it doesn't take away from the story, in fact its really important part of it.
Helen Mirren (excellent as usual, she was the main reason why I saw this one) is UK military officer who follows several high-profile terrorists for many years and it seems that finally the right moment came, when few of them will be together in the same building in Kenya. Mirren is connected across the continents with other big names, it is a joint mission where governments, lawyers and ministers all work together while drones control everything what is happening around the house in Kenya. At the beginning its all about surveillance and possibility to arrest few terrorists, but situation changes drastically when it became obvious that people in the house are planning suicide bombing - suddenly the mission changes focus, because immediately its not about to catch but to kill and here is where complications arise. Because this is international operation, many different politicians, lawyers, governors and authorities around the world have to be consulted (to Mirren's biggest frustration) while the clock is ticking and on top of it all, there is a very big possibility that innocent people (who just happened to be too close to a targeted house) might be killed. Finally, the American pilot insist that impact of the explosion have to be checked again and again, to be sure that civilians won't be killed.
It all turns into very intense, fascinating and topical theme as this is something we face today when wars are fought from the distance - drones are not some SF ideas but reality today and if inclined so, Helen Mirren can target your very own balcony from another part of the world. Than there is a question of collateral damage which in this movie is very cleverly presented: in order to stop bigger evil (suicide bombing that might result in mass killings somewhere else) there is a possibility that completely innocent victims might die from explosion. As much as this is horrifying and unforgettable, it perhaps still saves many other lives. Than again, its easy to say so in theory but any victim is somebody's child or family member. Because it combines excellent acting, interesting story and important moral issues, this is actually very unusually somber and interesting movie for adults. For once I am glad that I have checked something made recently. It is also a last movie by excellent Alan Rickman who might be known to millions because of his roles in Harry Potter but in fact he was far more important than that and will be greatly missed.
Here is a beautiful photo of a hippie father walking in Amsterdam's famous Vondelpark with a tiny daughter - I lived in Amsterdam and know Vondelpark very well as one of my favourite places (Filmmuseum) was situated there. The picture is beautiful as it is but the story continues further as sculptor Ció Abellí used is as inspiration for a stunning sculpture that graces centre of Ibiza and for many years it was symbol of summer vacation spot, right in front of discotheque Pacha and its Flower Power party. Nobody really knew who were the real people behind the picture and the sculpture until many years a Dutch woman visited Ibiza and to her surprise, recognised famous picture of her little self walking in the park with her father - apparently the guy was a famous Dutch actor and this is his daughter, now grown up Radha. This is still not the end of the story as Dutch writer contacted the photographer for permission to use the image for her new novel about the father and his child, so its just amazing how one particular moment in time continues to live on and on.
