"Sons" by Pearl S. Buck (1933)

A somewhat joyless sequel to Pulitzer winning novel "The Good Earth", this one is even grimmer as it deals with inevitable consequences of children squandering considerable family inheritance. Not that there was anything remotely sidesplitting about "The Good Earth" - it was unflinchingly honest look at life of full of hunger, suffering, sacrifices and hard toil but even trough all of this, we could feel some sympathy and affection for poor peasant Wang Lung and his wife O-lan. Pearl Buck must be the most unsentimental writer I have ever encountered, as she insist on certain emotional detachment from her main characters - effectively sentencing them to became one-dimensional symbols of personal ambitions and it took me almost the whole novel to accept that this is all there is to it. That none of the sons is at least pleasant is cleverly disguised with the main focus spotlighting the youngest son who had certain military ambitions - once you finish the last page, you realise that all three brothers are equally unrepentant in their ways and none is better than the other. Just as they turned their back to life, sweat and efforts of Wang Lung, their own kids will do everything to be different people from their own parents.

There were moments when I would get caught up in a story, but mostly because it was about some character from "The Good Earth" that I still remembered and cared for. Basically you might say that I plowed trough the whole novel under completely false hope that all these knots and interrelationships would result in happy endings - alas dear reader, there is not a single happy wedding here, in fact Buck is so stern that occasionally one wish for just a little bit of softness. Tiny, weeny, itsy-bitsy morsel of humanity instead of describing them as "son nr.2" or "peasant nr.3" or "man with harelip". I understand that Buck had her own vision of taciturn people who live by their own wits and she purposely described them as firm, unforgiving people with no patience for tenderness - maybe this is what she saw around her as she was growing up in China, who knows? In any case, personally I remember having much more joy and affection for "The Good Earth" than its sequel, perhaps because the parents  generation was still close to ordinary people so when everybody hungered, they hungered too. Now with the second generation - sons - we approach privileged class that looks down upon the rest of the villagers and put themselves above others. When hunger and starvation knocks at the door, sons have no empathy or compassion for the villagers because they don't remember ever experiencing the hunger, in fact we realise with a shock that they might not even remember their parents so well. 

Can't help but to notice certain projections - peasants are ignorant, priests greedy, landlords cruel, warriors cunning - only catholic missionaries are compassionate, is this how you saw it Mrs.Buck? For the first time I started to understand why Chinese were so offended with her novels. It was written in her beautiful, inimitable style but I had a hard time plowing trough the novel where main characters are so unlikable. Oh, how I wished we could get chapter or two about other, underprivileged relatives and cousins instead of Tiger warlord - his mysterious first wife could have a novel herself. Little hunchback boy with his little team huddled in that forgotten hut got my attention far more than any of the sons gobbling the food over their family squabbles. It was a gripping read but it left a bitter aftertaste in my mouth and perhaps I should wait a little before going on the third part of the trilogy. 

Old pop festivals: Split '75

With 1975 pop music festival in Split finally arrived in its classic, golden period. Nothing was essentially wrong during the previous decade but it seems that with this particular year everything fell in place - the idea of foreign guest stars was discarded, local composers like Zdenko Runjić, Đelo Jusić and Nenad Vilović were at the peak of their powers and the best of all, music became genuinely lighthearted and good-natured, reflecting certain endearing optimism and vitality.

"Nježne strune mandoline", "Cvrčak cvrči Ane", "Šumi more" and "Ja ne mogu drugo nego da je ljubim" were amongst the most popular hits of the summer but we can't forget singles not assembled on this official LP album, such as irresistibly uplifting, galloping "Barbara" by Zvonko Špišić or "Vratija se barba iz Amerike" by Pro Arte. Worth mentioning were young Ksenija Erker with song by her husband Hrvoje Hegedušić and excellent, sonorous Beti Đorđević who must have been one of the best female voices of 1970s. Band Libertas with their heroic tenor leader Milo Hrnić had contagious hit "Moja Ane broji dane" that to this day functions as kind of Pavlov reflex for me personally and immediately brings me to childhood (I could just visualize little me in plastic sandals, prancing around the beach and reading "Popeye the Sailor" comics). The crown, however, goes to Oliver Dragojević who performed on both pop and newly organized chanson evenings - by all accounts hardly noticed at the time, hypnotic ballad "Moj galebe" eventually grew into such anthemic classic that nowadays people simply assumed that it was a winner - it was placed almost at the bottom. The whole collection bursts with energy and fun, it must have been one of the best years of this festival.

Worth searching for is the single "Jedra bijela" by Elvira Voća, not because its exceptional but because someone in Jugoton decided to have some fun and release the most unflattering photo of singer. Some forty years after the fact, I still giggle with delight upon seeing that unfortunate, utterly subversive cover.

"Great Expectations" by David Lean (1946)

Now, this is true classic, carved in a stone and rightfully praised everywhere - it might be one of the best examples of how to successfully approach literary masterpiece without once making a wrong step. Everything is pure perfection, from the tiniest shadow on the graveyard to the magical view over rooftops of London. It reminded me how much I loved novels by Charles Dickens once and how vaguely I actually remember them nowadays - I watched "Great Expectations" with only foggiest idea about characters and the story, it feels like another lifetime when I was actually reading Dickens. If I remember correctly, Dickens always had some beautifully depicted, comic characters but there was nothing comical here - the movie is decidedly dark and occasionally very poignant, I loved every minute of it.

Perhaps the first part with adorable Anthony Wager as Pip and stunningly beautiful Jean Simmons as his love interest works better for me than later, when they are replaced with grown up actors. Nothing wrong with John Mills or Valerie Hobson but they don't inspire such fascination - Martita Hunt on the other hand is perfect Miss Havisham, spooky as hell in her cobwebbed empire and it makes you wonder what kind of life people must have lived when they would not only bow to such a loony but even send children to her. Lots of supporting actors were excellent, specially Francis L. Sullivan as lawyer and Finlay Currie as escaped convict, somehow I completely overlooked young Alec Guinness because I was too busy admiring the scenery - what impressed me the most was wonderful cinematography and I just can't get over how beautiful movie looks, I could spend the whole evening watching storm over the dark rooftops of London. Its one of the most beautiful black & white movies I have ever seen. Now I should really go back to Dickens and re-read all this novels that I completely forgot in the meantime. 

"Jane Eyre" by Robert Stevenson (1943)

Oh look, its Joan Fontaine arriving in a creepy, old house with lots of candle lights, portraits and servants. And a housekeeper! Why, just yesterday she fainted all over the place in "Rebecca" and now she find herself in almost identical situation! For Fontaine this must have been sort of déjà vu but truth to be told, "Rebecca" was obviously inspired by Gothic masterpiece novel by Charlotte Brontë and not the other way around, even though cinema audiences must have felt confused. Recently I enjoyed 2011. version so much that I decided to check this one, since critics usually prefer older movies but I am not convinced that older is always necessary better. 

Cinematography is beautiful as it should be - 1940s were glorious years of Hollywood black & white costume dramas, everything wrapped in ominous shadows, candles flicking, thunders and lightning galore, at times it almost feels as some old Universal horror movie. The first part is very, very good thanks to excellent child actress Peggy Ann Garner who embodies spirit of a tortured, sensitive orphaned girl and somehow we even have treat of discovering beautiful little Elizabeth Taylor tucked away in a orphanage, luminous in all that gloom. Otherwise funny Agnes Moorehead is also here as evil aunt who sends Jane Eyre out of her luxurious home into cruel hands of horrible Henry Daniell who deserves to burn in hell. My problem with this version comes the moment we encounter grown up Jane and Hollywood dream machine steps in - Fontaine is everything but obscure and plain governess, her obvious beauty confirming to the rules of the day but greatly hindering the believability of the character. Orson Welles, on the other hand, successfully played the role of Mr.Rochester on the radio where his commanding voice probably sounded very effective but this is completely different medium and visually he is neither attractive nor convincing as charismatic - if anything, he comes off as sadist who gets a kick out of playing game of cat and mouse with Fontaine, occasionally appearing downright unbalanced. Since we simply have to take this 1943. version as a period piece, it is enjoyable to a certain degree but honestly people, acting is stilted and subsequent versions are far more realistic. 

"The Snows of Kilimanjaro" by Darryl F. Zanuck (1952)

Another case of the movie that appears much older and outdated than his 1920s and 1930s relatives - I can genuinely enjoy silent movies like "Nosferatu" or almost anything by D. W. Griffith but once we arrive in supposedly golden era of lavish Hollywood movies, things rarely work for me. My guess is that after success of 1951. "The African Queen" it seemed as a obvious idea to continue using African/Safari theme, with bunch of than huge, bankable stars and when Ernest Hemingway sold the rights for his story to Twentieth Century-Fox for a good money at the time, he should be the last person to complain about results having nothing to do with his original idea. As expected, Hollywood kept the title and location, twisting and stretching everything in between beyond recognition. 

Gregory Peck is a bitter, empty man who have no joy out of his success as a writer of popular novels or from relationships this fame brings. In his opinion, these novels are just a trash and he is prostituting his talent for money - that this enables him to roam around the world in search for kicks and dine in a fine restaurants everywhere from Paris to Spain obviously don't matter, same for women throwing themselves at him. Neither Ava Gardner, Hildegard Knef or Susan Hayward mean something to him, although the movie suggest that Gardner was the right one - but I have my doubts, because he misses her only when she eventually refuses to be his doormat. Peck/Hemingway comes off as an extremely unlikable and unsympathetic, egoistic character obsessed only with himself and as his supposed soul-searching during never-ending agony of blood poisoning somewhere during safari (with hyenas and vultures lurking around) continues forever, I just wished him to die and shut up. Where the script fails - and miserably so - is to explain why on earth would any of these fine women roll in front of him, with tears in their eyes and pulling their hair in desperation; yes, he was obviously Gregory Peck but besides his obvious looks, there was absolutely nothing else going on for him, the guy was just a selfish prick destined to hang around bars with prostitutes on each arm and bawl later somewhere drunk.

Somewhere between the lines (hidden really, really deep) is the idea of middle-age existential crisis which might have been appealing to the audiences who swarmed the cinemas back than, although my guess is that people were just attracted with the package that matched biggest Hollywood stars and to hell with the message. Personally I find all that macho posturing and waving with the big guns in front of unsuspecting animals completely ludicrous and don't even let me start about bullfights. I honestly wished that hyena ate Gregory Peck alive and save me from this agony. The movie tortured me so much that for some time I don't even want to think about Ernest Hemingway. 

"Young Frankenstein" by Mel Brooks (1974)

Delightful, off-the-wall homage to the old 1930s "Universal"  horror movies, this is such a charmer that it made me chuckle with joy all the way from the beginning to the end. Perhaps it don't work so well for viewers unfamiliar with where all these quotes come from (I happened to be fan of "Universal" horrors and even have them in a DVD package) but overload of completely new, extremely funny quotes are gracing the script so young viewers can enjoy it without preconception. 

Of course, its a spoof of great, classic Mary Shelley novel with a hammy touch of Mel Brooks and Gene Wilder whose comic genius is capable of turning everything upside down, not to mention their softness for risqué jokes. This kind of humour is consciously unsophisticated but hilarious nevertheless, with Brooks and Wilder obviously having a great time clowning around and loving every minute of it. Where some later comedies using previously known ideas just left me cold, this one was a pure, undiluted joy. "Young Frankenstein" has Gene Wilder (descendant of famous Doctor Frankenstein) arriving in Transylvania to explore inherited castle, where he is welcomed by sinister frau Blücher (Cloris Leachman), dizzy blonde assistant (unforgettable Teri Garr) and wonderfully ludicrous hunchback Igor - now, I must say that I absolutely love Marty Feldman and for me he is the biggest star of the movie, what a brilliant, brilliant character. He is just too funny for words even when he is completely alone on the screen, I honestly wish he had much bigger movie career and I could perfectly imagine his own movie serial. There is also a odd police inspector (Kenneth Mars) and naturally we have a monster (Peter Boyle) who is so lovable that I want to embrace and pet him. The whole movie is so chockfull of witty lines that I definitely must watch it again to soak everything properly, but unforgettable comment of Terry Garr about enormous schwanzstucker still gets me laughing, even the next day. Best moments are usually completely unexpected, like when police inspector talks in front of angry mob and suddenly they all go quiet because nobody understands a word he says. Frau Blücher walking around with those candles, roll in ze hay, Dr.Frankenstein's nightmares, seda-give, the Blindman ... its just too much to count here, what a fun. Oh, I almost forgot Madeline Kahn and her stories about poo-poo undies, you have to see it to believe it. It's one of the rare movies where I cannot pinpoint just one highlight. (How about "Putting on the Ritz" scene?) I always loved Frankenstein monster but this one is a keeper, I just love him to death. 

"Dick Tracy" by William A. Berke (1945)

Dick Tracy might have been very popular phenomenon in its time, but this comic strip is mostly forgotten nowadays - if not for Warren Beatty much later, it might have been completely obscure as artifact from another time. Than again, it was the time of radio and all sorts of movie serials about police detectives, generally filmed on a shoe string in a studios, so this was fairly obvious idea. 

The beginning of five-movies serial, "Dick Tracy" is surprisingly unoriginal little story, full of every police detective cliché in the world - I understand that this is just a screen version of a popular comic strip, but still one would expect just a little more excitement instead of this undercooked little number that feels very much like some TV episode. Tracy searches for a maniac mass murderer who apparently kills people with no connections between them and there is a blackmail involved - other characters are just a comic sidekicks: pretty blonde girlfriend Anne Jeffreys, clever little boy Mickey Kuhn, clumsy policemen and such. By far the most interesting are antagonists Mike Mazurki (as mysterious "Splitface") and fascinating Trevor Bardette playing spiritual medium hovering over his crystal ball, one almost wishes they got their own serial instead of Dick Tracy who for all RKO Radio Pictures efforts just don't appears very original or interesting - although I generally love old 1940s black & white detective movies and their specific language, this one comes off as a very uninspired period piece that don't invite for watching of further sequels. 

"Spavaj cvijete moj" by Mahir Paloš

I have discovered Mahir Paloš while going trough 1970s recordings of old pop festivals, where he competed amongst other artists on Split '74 - this venerable music institution generally supported and favorited local stars, but often used to welcome guests from other corners of the country and although in this company Paloš never had a real chance to win any awards, he did intrigued me as exceptionally mellifluous voice (similar to young Mirko Cetinski) so I decided to do some research. Apparently "Jugoton" was intrigued as well, because they released the LP album soon afterwards and this is the one tailored specifically for him.

The biggest surprise is that the whole material was written by wonderful singer-songwriter Kemal Monteno who was at the peak of his powers at the time and in fact, Monteno was very busy man, serving hits for the half of Sarajevo. Not only that he wrote material for others, but he also possessed one of the most recognizable, sweetest voices in the business so naturally, it was impossible to sing the whole album written by him without sounding like him. Not sure was this good thing for Paloš, because unintentionally he ends up being carbon copy of someone else but material is sure impressive as Monteno was incapable of coming up with something half-baked - its very possible that "Jugoton" formally engaged him as songwriter for this project and he was so talented that this could easily have been released as his own solo album. From beginning to the end this is pure Monteno collection, with almost identical voice using absolutely same vocal mannerisms so although it might sound little confusing at first, its a godsend gift to any fans of this great singer-songwriter. Producer Stipica Kalogjera wrapped everything is pleasant, radio-friendly mid-1970s schlager pop cellophane and even if the singer didn't manage to step out of composer's shadow, final result is a very warm, heartfelt collection with a recognizable touch of Italian canzone that was Monteno's speciality. If you love Monteno, this is a wonderful surprise, like discovering that he had a twin brother.

"Jane Eyre" by Cary Fukunaga (2011)

Far more realistic and powerful depiction of what life for governess must have been than 1940. "All this and Heaven too" is this unexpectedly beautiful interpretation of literary classic and its surprising that it works so well on every level, because adaptations of famous novels are slippery business since most of us are very familiar with them and have our own ideas how they should be approached. One wrong step and everything can slide in overtly simplistic direction, luckily BBC Films are generally always at the top of their game when it comes to costume drama, so this "Jane Eyre" was fairly safe bet, even though advertisements might have harmed it as they promoted it almost as a horror when in fact it is a beautiful period drama with strong Gothic overtones. 

The novel by Charlotte Brontë is a beauty apart in itself and it should be enjoyed as timeless masterpiece it is - modern readers might have problems with understanding what a joyless and uncertain lives one governess was destined to live all her life, floating from employment to employment in constant fear of poverty and scandal, but this 2011. version might be the closest to my idea of 1847. novel with highly atmospheric candle lights, sophisticated but never intrusive background music and of course, beautifully understated acting. Mia Wasikowska is quiet and mousy enough to be absolutely believable as girl whose pureness and innocence soften the heart of tortured Mr. Rochester, with only stoic posture and expressive eyes on her disposal she does admirable job and with time we come to see the beauty in her. Even though this kind of role now appears like cliché in every costume drama, we have to understand that "Jane Eyre" actually started the whole tradition of a brooding hero and Michael Fassbender is magnificent because he takes Mr. Rochester without any sense of campy exaggeration, he is dead serious and genuinely sincere. As a housekeeper, Judi Dench does magic with basically small, supporting role and the way she twists her hands or glances sideways while speaking bring the movie completely different dimension. Casting is absolutely perfect and the smallest details in roles by Sally Hawkins as evil cousin, Imogen Poots (snooty Blanche Ingram) and beautiful Italian actress Valentina Cervi are flawless. Some might complain that certain aspects of the novel were ignored but honestly, the real story starts with heroine's arrival in Thornfield Hall anyway, everything before that was just a prelude. I was sincerely touched with the movie, it really affected me even though I was very familiar with the story.

"All This, and Heaven Too" by Anatole Litvak (1940)

Based on a real-life story where public scandal subsequently paved the way for political turmoil in France, this is highly sanitised account of it as presented trough thick gauze of Hollywood filters and re-packaged as sentimental melodrama. The truth of it all has been obscured with time and even the novel that inspired the script (by Rachel Field) was probably just well intentioned interpretation but one has to admire scriptwriters willingness to deal with potentially sordid subject and serve it as glittering box with a decorative bow on the top. 

Aloof, sophisticated Duke (regal Charles Boyer) and his neurotic wife (Barbara O'Neil, otherwise remembered as mother of Scarlett in "Gone with the Wind") live in a cold, loveless marriage just for the sake of appearances in society, while we are to understand that procession of servants, housekeepers and teachers take care of their offspring (bunch of sugary, well-behaved and totally unreal children who seem to conform to Hollywood standards of how kids should be depicted, with nice turn by little Virginia Weidler from "The Women"). The arrival of a new governess brings instantly some music, joy and happiness in the household and Duchess goes berserk with jealousy, with tragic results. Truth to be told, even though the movie leans over backwards in attempt to suggest otherwise, her husband does appear sadistic in his coldness towards wife and nothing in the world can explain or redeem his behaviour - if she was good enough to bore him all that children, he could show some gentleness and understanding to her. Warner Bros. makes a mind-boggling decision to give he role of a meek, submissive and self-sacrificing governess to world's most famous gargoyle Bette Davis who does her job admirably but we can sense tension in every single scene and occasional flash of anger, quick but noticeable glance in those expressive eyes clearly show this is all just an act, we know this can't be real and even though Mademoiselle is portrayed as utterly angelic, blameless and pure, we hold our breath expecting her to chew everybody out. Movie was a huge success in its time and meticulous care was taken of its cellophane (costumes, lavish production) but what stayed with me was the question what the life of governess must have been, not quite servant but not much better either, depending on whims of employers and living in constant fear of poverty. 

"His Girl Friday" by Howard Hawks (1940)

All hail Rosalind Russell - she might be a Hollywood legend but I have just discovered her recently in "The Women" and noticed what a attractive woman she was, despite unflattering costumes, hats, glasses and all, in fact everything possible was done in order to make her appear humpty-dumpty for the role, but it didn't fool me and I knew she was great, classic beauty obviously hamming it up in order not to eclipse main actress. Russel and not Cary Grant (for whom I couldn't care less) was the main reason why I decided to check out this movie and it was great fun.

"His Girl Friday" is deservedly a classic and its strange that it took me forever to actually watch it, because its basically right up my alley as I love nothing better than old black & white movies that get me roaring with laughter. Sharp wit, banter and non-stop fast talking is out of this world and occasionally my head was ready to explode from all this overload of punch lines - movie is also unrepentantly subversive, because it pokes fun at everyone from opportunistic journalists to corrupted politicians. Unlike movies today, there is not a single scene with moralistic brainwashing or messages about peace, love & understanding - hard boiled characters here are tough as nails and follow only their own interests, even when they are pretending to be interested in welfare of others. Grant and Russell are divorced journalist couple pulled into madcap crime case that its just too irresistible and during the continuous mayhem they shout themselves hoarse (often yelling at the top of each other) while all sorts of people run in and out of police station. There is a missed opportunity to elaborate little more on a relationship between convicted murderer and his sweetheart but this might be intentionally as it would take focus away from the main stars who are electric, chemistry between them just sizzle. Unfortunate, boring fiancé (Ralph Bellamy) is just perfect for the role and his mother (Alma Kruger) is delightful. Unforgettable comedy that got me spurting my wine all over the place and this is very unusual as generally I rarely find comedies genuinely funny, but this one was a hoot. I was glued to the screen, chuckling and laughing all the way. 

Eurovision hidden gems ... continues!

The very first LP album that I ever bought with some pocket money was double LP titled "Eurovision winners 1956-1981" and it shows what a good little boy I was, when what appealed to me was nothing remotely rebellious or angry but a very tame, old-fashioned compilation that for some reason called my name. No doubt, little kids today would go for some rap or head-splitting rhythms but cute, little goodie two shoes wanted and got himself a compilation of Eurovision winners that got me swooning to radio oldies. Today I find this incredibly cute and surely it defined my later music taste that privately always tended to lean towards easy listening even though from time to time I try to branch elsewhere and in my fact my music collection has everything from Jaco Pastorius to Willie Nelson and Muddy Waters but sooner or later I will eventually go back to Eurovision and its archives. Out from sheer curiosity I did some research who else performed on these stages besides the winners and trough last few years discovered some wonderfully obscure favourites, whom I tried to highlight in previous posts but what really delighted me were earliest decades - the moment when I arrived in 1980s music didn't really excite me anymore and it could be the ubiquitous synthesisers dampened my enthusiasm but now I discovered another twist to my research: cover versions of Eurovision songs as recorded by contemporary international artists in their languages. Not just winners (that would be expected) but all the wonderful, less known material that appealed to various audiences and was translated & repackaged everywhere from Estonia to Hungary. I actually didn't have idea that Eurovision had such strong effect and impact all over the continent.

First surprise was French cover of Swiss 1956. winner "Refrain" that I know all my life as recorded by Lys Assia, who recorded it in both French and German but apparently it was recorded instantly by French artist Cora Vaucaire and she gives it such a beautiful, particularly French tenderness & charm that its absolutely delightful, sounds as completely new song. In her hands its a smoky, old-fashioned French chanson like something Édith Piaf would have done.

"Net als toen" was covered (amongst others) in Germany by Margot Eskens who sounds so much like Vera Lynn to me that I actually had to check out who is singing. Melody is still close enough to original, but its just exciting to hear it now upside down in another language.

Nora Brockstedt from Norway had her go at French 1958. winner "Dors mon amour" and its still same song but sounds very pretty in this unusual language + she had truly beautiful voice that is joy to hear. She actually had her own Eurovision moment just a few years later, although another singer from Norway (Inger Jacbsen) might be my favourite from what I heard so far.

In Finland, Seija Karpiomaa had covered contagious 1959. Dutch swinging winner and she is lovely although the original was far more coquettish and kittenish - Karpiomaa had different, more womanly and sonorous voice that might strange at first, but she swings admirably and its just great fun to hear the song in another language.

1960. winner "Tom Pillibi" always sounded too much like some children cartoon theme to my ears to take it seriously and no wonder Julie Andrews recorded it herself, because it could have been Disney music but Spanish artist José Guardiola did admirable job singing in Catalan and I genuinely love it for the sheer novelty of it. There is equally cute version as recorded by Dutch artist, than very young Willeke Alberti who sounds just like original.

A song that didn't win and even failed to get my interest initially from 1961. was covered by Dutch duo Die Blue Diamonds as "Ahoi Ohe" and I find it so infectious that now I wonder what was I thinking when I didn't notice it before. Its a beautiful, sunny little joy of a song, very uplifting and shoe tapping. 

Another song that I didn't notice before was this one from 1962. recorded as "Ring-Dingeding" by Dutch guy called Hans Boskamp and it sounds so sweetly innocent & featherlight in the best sense of the word, that I find it irresistible. The biggest Eurovision loser that year was German "Zwei kleine Italiener" that sounded as a surefire winner but that one was covered so many times that I eventually found it annoying, even though there is a nice Spanish version by Gelu.

Danish 1963. winner "Dansevise" is deservedly a classic and personally I think its one of the prettiest songs ever performed on Eurovision, here covered by duo from Estonia and they are fine, although slightly less seductive - note by note it follows the original, but the fact that its a different voice makes it shade less brilliant. That was one of the strongest years in history of Eurovision and I particularly love Spanish José Guardiola with "Es maravilloso" which was cover of UK entry. 

... to be continued!

"The Pit and the Pendulum" by Roger Corman (1961)

Sometimes old movies are just old and there is nothing redeeming about them.

Its really interesting why today we can watch 1922. "Nosferatu" with fascination, but the moment we arrive in bright-coloured 1960s, something is off and paradoxically, latest movies are much more dated than their distant ancestors. The whole era of German expressionism is still perfectly capable to give me nightmares, while what is now accepted as golden and classic horrors of 1960s just don't do it for me, no matter how influential and celebrated they might be. Its not just the bright colours, sets or overacting, everything appears artificial and even this is something often done intentionally, I start to feel fidgety and wonder how much longer do I have to suffer trough this.

"The Pit and the Pendulum" has been praised to the skies as one of the most influential horror movies of the early 1960s - be it as it may, it creaks and squeaks all over the place, showing its age and how much we progressed since than. I could imagine that it might perhaps be very effective if watched on a stormy night somewhere, but I gave it proper chance - tried initially, just to continue next evening with resignation - with results that were only mildly interesting. With exception of scene or two, it was all terribly dated, including unconvincing script, wooden acting and overload of thick cobwebs covering what it appears as labyrinth of leftover scenery from other movies. John Kerr is a young aristocrat who arrives in a gloomy castle to find out about the mysterious death of his sister, whose grieving husband (over the top Vincent Price) roams around, supported by his sister (unconvincing Luana Anders) and a doctor (Antony Carbone) - there is a lot of dialogue, screams in the night and stairways that go to the bottomless abyss but the final results were just too silly to analyse in depth. It reminds me on so many movies from my childhood that once used to scare me to death, but now just appear silly. 

Studio 54

Photo: Pam Grier in early 1970s

Old pop festivals: Zagreb '71

Of all the music festival LP albums, this is one I have seen the most on shelves around the homes I visited - it's almost spooky, but this particular recording was omnipresent and apparently very, very popular at the time or it was simply the moment when these events caught up with records buyers. As foreign releases were usually slow coming, homegrown pop composers and artists (derivative as they might have been) were enjoying some really big sales and music festivals like this one were major events of the year. Every official LP like this one always had at least a dozen hit singles accompanying it, so nowadays its impossible to grasp the whole picture without those singles and if anyone ever decide to re-issue Zagreb '71 again, hit singles would have to be bonus tracks.

It was still a very important and venerable music institution at the time, with good selection of veterans and upcoming young talents competing on the same stage. Grandfather Ivo Robić opens the record with his typical ode to Zagreb, while Zvonko Špišić and Stjepan "Jimmy" Stanić represented generation from a previous decade but for the most part it was a showcase for new names - Krunoslav Slabinac, Duško Lokin, Đani Maršan and Vjekoslav Jutt were all just kids and they were actually very good. Great Vice Vukov was so popular at the time that he got two songs - "Tvoja zemlja" and "Spomenar" but by far the biggest hit was written by husband and wife tandem Maja Perfiljeva & Hrvoje Hegedušić with pop band Pro Arte in mind - one way or another, "Gazi, dragi, srce moje" ended up in hands of gentle Gabi Novak and not only that it turned into one of the major hits of the whole year but its lyrics perfectly suited (and defined) her music persona. As usual, young Josipa Lisac came up with decidedly complex vocal extravaganza ("Mreže ljubavi") that was impressive but deliberately non-commercial and its interesting how just a year later, under new music direction she will actually become a winner of this festival. Its unfortunate that songs by Arsen Dedić, Dalibor Brun, Đorđi Peruzović and few other artists (young Ivo Pattiera!) were released as singles, it would be nice to have them in one place to complete the picture.

Photographer: Ivica Jakovljević

Last evening, completely by chance, I have discovered the most beautiful online photo gallery with works by certain Ivica Jakovljević and his magic pictures of Zagreb, its corners, nooks and crannies really moved me to tears. Now, as I already noted here on this blog, the fact that I was born and raised in Zagreb usually leave me quite indifferent - I accept it as my birthplace but its not necessarily a hometown, partly because there is no living family to keep me here, partly because my nomadic life led me elsewhere around the world and I have discovered at least dozen other places where I feel comfortable, happy and even excited, while good old Zagreb somehow always feel dirty, grey and full of graffiti. I am perfectly aware that its my own psychological block that keeps me from relaxing in these familiar surroundings - or perhaps its true, I have no emotional ties to this city - why else I feel completely at peace in far away places instead on the street where I grew up, however I always loved old black & white photographs of bygone era until now.

Mr. Jakovljević is artist - not even born in Zagreb, by the way - who has such a beautiful gift, its almost poetry set in images and because he has a wonderful heart, he sees details and beauty in places that most of the people would just walk by without noticing colors everywhere. I find very interesting that he was born elsewhere and later got transplanted to Zagreb, since it shows that his inner compass works no matter where he finds himself. He could be in Siberia or inner Mongolia and surely he would still discover amazing scenes there. On these pictures of Zagreb he depicted beauty that he found in everyday life and I was so genuinely moved that I almost purred with pleasure for recognizing places that under normal circumstances I wouldn't look twice. My first immediate reaction was to share this photos with all my friends from Zagreb who might enjoy this (they were sincerely delighted) and than snuggled comfortably for the rest of Sunday evening with these pictures, I couldn't give myself a better present. I even complimented the guy who responded graciously. What a beautiful artist and truly spiritual person. It actually made me look on my town with fresh eyes.

Soul Train

Thanks to wonders of Internet, now I am able to pursue hobbies in a way that as a kid I could never imagine it would have been possible: I still remember how, as impressionable teenager who loved pop music but lacking any literature about it, I would visit libraries in US and British embassies and browse music encyclopedias from their shelves, huge volume of collected Rolling Stone essays on my lap and me in seventh heaven, not exactly sure what it all means (I basically picked up English completely by myself along the way) and who these people were, but it was all so exciting and they would never let me take these encyclopedias home, it was only to enjoy there - which was probably even better because the more I loved certain books, bigger were the chances that I would splash my lunch all over the pages (it happens even today). But now I can roll lazily in my bed on a Sunday morning and browse youtube while enjoying legendary performances from 1970s TV show Soul Train - at that time it was ultra cool newest twist on famous dance marathons from previous decade (you know, where audiences surrounded performers and danced around them, shrieking and being absolutely fabulous in their newest clothes) with idea to promote exclusively soul music and its performers. With exception of David Bowie I have not seen another white artists on that stage and generally it was a showcase for soul royalty - at first I couldn't get my eyes off awesome Aretha Franklin doing "Rock Steady" and her fabulous backing singers who were just incredibly charismatic, I must have watched that one particular clip hundreds of times because it was like some perfect dream of what real soul performance should be but eventually I dived into the rest of archival material and voilà, just discovered my new favourite.

This particular performance (live! no lip-synch!) by Harold Melvin And The Blue Notes is so dazzlingly perfect, brilliant and incredibly powerful that I just couldn't believe my eyes and ears. Not only that song is incredibly beautiful - I knew it from before, as Dusty Springfield recorded it originally and long time ago it had a profound effect on me during particular episode of my life but now I am able to simply glance back and wonder how on earth could I have been so young to confuse lust and love - though I have never heard it in this version, which is funny since these guys had much bigger hit with it. So I am grooving to a song and just soaking in the wonderful vocal flow between not two, but three spectacular vocalists, while backing dancers are doing some genuinely hypnotic moves and its almost too much for me, I don't even know where to look and whom to focus on - damn! what a show! - slowly though, its clear that tall guy is really powerful and naturally now I must do some research, who on earth is this? It turns out he was Teddy Pendergrass whom I remember vaguely, of course this is all long before my time and now I really have to dig deep in my music collection and wonder why I never explored Philly Sound, naturally I have some Gamble & Huff somewhere, so right now I am listening compilation "The Philly Sound: Kenny Gamble, Leon Huff And The Story Of Brotherly Love (1966-1976)" which is so smooth that its almost unbearable, how strange that I never really paid attention to it and this morning everything just clicked perfectly and it just blew my mind. Even Laura Nyro is on it, wow what a great compilation! This is kind of right before Disco, incredibly sophisticated and slick in the best sense of the word.