"The Limehouse Golem" by Juan Carlos Medina (2016)

Interesting variation on Jack the Ripper crimes, but this serial killer operates under the nickname "Golem" and leaves his grisly mutilated victims all over Victorian London shrouded in foreboding mist, fog and all sorts of toxic fumes. Inspector Bill Nighy (the only actor for whom I feel completely irrational affection and something close to infatuation) is pushed on the case and connects four possible suspects who might have been involved. As director Juan Carlos Medina cleverly suggest, each of these four was potentially "Golem", the only inconvenience being that one of them (Sam Reid) just died from apparent poisoning and his pretty wife (Olivia Cooke) finds herself accused by sneering servant (excellent María Valverde). While audience in the court is amused by her public humiliation, Nighy is moved by young widow's suffering and - to great exasperation of his helper, policeman Daniel Mays - tries simultaneously to help her, while solving the case.

Lots of visual pleasure here - in spite mutilated victims, but thanks to TV we are unfortunately accustomed to this by now - London looks just spectacularly dangerous and nasty under gaslights (poverty and degradation in the slums is heartbreaking) and we are treated with interior of gaudy music-hall where charismatic young Douglas Booth reigns as undisputed star of lowbrow shows, tailored for barely controlled mob of audience. In fact, crowd and people themselves are far more monstrous than "Golem" which is evident in the way journalists treat Nighy, mocking laughter in the court or in the music hall - they want blood and this is what "Golem" gives them. There is a hint that Nighy might suffer career setbacks because of his private life and we are to understand that even Mays accepted his position because of solidarity. David Bamber has a short but effective turn as public prosecutor and Henry Goodman is delightful as one of suspects - Karl Marx. With Nighy in lead, I thoroughly enjoyed "The Limehouse Golem" and loved every twist and turn until finale that surprised me despite the lifetime of watching movies.

"VIS Idoli Mini LP" by Idoli (1981)

Harbingers of the something fresh, rebellious and immensely different from stale toothless pop served at the time, Belgrade's rock band "Idoli" were caught here in the first bloom of the most appealing chapter in any musicians life, that initial energy and nerve that wants to break all the rules and barriers. It was the most inauspicious debut - simple, mini album with only six songs that Siniša Škarica from Zagreb's "Jugoton" somehow recognised as worth promoting and releasing on the most important recording company in the country. 

Only six songs, but oh, what a collection. Today when we have artists overloading their CD albums with twenty-plus filler, this appears as genuinely encapsulation of everything that is essential about the band: fierce musicianship, sneering vocals and off-the-wall sense of humour. Considering that during the previous decade country was enamored of rough and decidedly rural "shepherd's rock" by Goran Bregović and his band "Bijelo Dugme" this was something completely different and urban. You can immediately tell that Vlada Divljan and his guys are not shepherds but city guys, probably nerdy students obsessed with girls and sex. Considering that these young punks wanted to turn they backs away from schlager establishment its somehow ironic that their biggest hit and song that put them on the map was old 1961. number by Đuza Stojiljković ("Devojko Mala") but to their defence it must be said they performed it without irony, with genuine sincerity and it it was a massive radio hit. (My music teacher in elementary school never recovered from it and she played it non-stop for in the breaks between the classes. Not surprisingly, at the ceremony of her retirement she made the assembled choir singing it.) On the other hand, me and my little pals in the school screamed "Malena" everywhere, it was just the coolest thing we ever heard, although we were just eleven and didn't even know what sex actually is, but we took it in all seriousness (today I find it hilarious). 

Its been 36 years since and I listened it this morning several times, completely delighted - I still remember every single word and find it just delicious from the start to all-to-short finish. Nothing they ever did later thrills me as much as this debut mini album.  

"Sei mir gegrüßt" by Peter Schreier (1972)

Outside of pop music - where tastes are influenced partly by social background, partly by personal inclination - everything else I have discovered by myself. These, often clumsy and auto didactic steps into fields of such various genres as jazz, blues and country music often brought me immense pleasure and prompted even more excursions into whizzing eclecticism but nothing thrills me as much as classical music. How on earth I came from my working class background to Franz Schubert and Robert Schumann is one of the biggest mysteries and wonders of my life, but arrived I did and sometimes, when in the right frame of mind, I genuinely suspect its the only music worth listening. 

At first, Lieder was not really my thing. With so much to chose from, it kind of appeared too stiff, too rigid, too formal. Where operas could be fun in their overblown way, singers sincerely moving and instrumentalists dazzling in their virtuosity, lieder was initially my worse enemy. Either I changed or gradually warmed up to the genre (or discovered right recordings) but at this point you can hear me actually humming along with darn thing, to my biggest surprise. German tenor Peter Schreier is celebrated for the beauty of his voice and rightfully so - like mythological Orpheus, his seductive, sophisticated singing tugs at my heartstrings with such power that it almost makes me tingle. On this album its all about romantic Lieder, previously mentioned composers plus Felix Mendelssohn with whom I am not so well acquainted yet, but Schubert and Schumann I know so well that I can tell this is sensational performance of the highest order. The album opens with a song from "Die Schöne Mullerin" and it just rolls nicely on further trough some of the most beautiful melodies from Lieder repertoire, like "Du bist die Ruh", "Die Lotosblume" and hypnotic "Mondnacht" (that I heard first on classical album by Barbra Streisand, of all places!) - Schreier gently caresses these lyrics with almost unbearable tenderness and everything is pleasantly dreamy. Pianist Walter Olbertz is much more than mere accompanist, his is the perfectly distinctive voice flowing like a mountain stream. So far the only other piano & voice recording that got me so enthralled was 1950."Gabriel Fauré ‎Recital" by Gérard Souzay but Fauré is different experience, his music is almost painfully otherworldly to the point that I just want to sit somewhere and purr with my toes curling. 

"To Je Tereza..." by Tereza Kesovija (1970)

With few notable exceptions, majority of early 1970s LP albums released by "Jugoton" were compilations of singles and archive material. Arsen Dedić, Drago Mlinarec and Josipa Lisac insisted on recording completely new music for their debuts, but other contemporaries were content with this sort of "albums" which served as recapitulation of greatest hits up to that point.

It is little forgotten now, but initially Tereza Kesovija made bigger splash on international market than at home - her homegrown recordings were mostly assembled on various festivals and occasional single/EP for "PGP RTB" and "Jugoton" while French "Columbia" gave her completely different treatment and not only she recorded dozen EP recordings for them but there were even two LP compilations released for French market prior to this album. Graced with striking cover, "To Je Tereza..." finally brought her home in a big style, with selected material written specifically for her by celebrated songwriters like Dedić, Ivica Krajač and Đelo Jusić. There is marked development and transformation in her singing from previous 1960s recordings, like French experience gave her completely new impetus and although this kind of music sounds very dated now, Kesovija sounds confident and authoritative. Stamping each of this song with her distinctive passion and dramatic delivery, she soars trough her greatest hits up to that point ("Nono, Dobri Moj Nono", "Znam Da Ima Jedna Staza", "Adio") which were combination of local and international successes. For all her exaggerated theatricality, Kesovija was exceptionally distinguished vocalist with easily identifiable sound and just like her international colleagues Nana Mouskouri or Dalida she had a huge following. 

"Ko Me To Od Nekud Doziva" by Neda Ukraden (1976)

Even more impressive than its prequel "Neda Ukraden i Kamen na kamen", this second album by young Neda Ukraden is perhaps the culmination of first chapter in her career. The brain behind it all was producer/composer Nikola Borota Radovan who tailored material specifically for singer, with strong vision how to build her up as artist who bridges both folk and pop music. Since the newest current thing in local pop music was Bosnian rock band "Bijelo Dugme" who experimented with similar approach, Radovan not only combines rock guitars with themes about shepherds and livestock (critics called it shepherd's rock at the time) but actually brings the celebrated band (guitarist Goran Bregović, bass player Zoran Redžić and keyboardist Vlado Pravdić) as special guests - this kind of music, rough around the edges, suited the singer to a T.

Its light years of direction Ukraden will take later, when she enthusiastically embraced synthesisers-heavy 1980s pop and beyond, but it must be noted that she intuitively knew what works for her and eventually managed to achieve spectacular commercial success, even if her future music have no connections to these beginnings. The only odd ingredient here is inclusion of song by Đelo Jusić "Proći Će Jednom Ovi Dani" that pretty as it is, nests somehow uncomfortably amongst decidedly rural material - despite imaginative arrangements, its still a schlager more suitable for Tereza Kesovija (who in fact, recorded it herself later) and it signals that Ukraden had already set her eyes on further advancement - this was her last album with Radovan.

"Neda Ukraden i Kamen na kamen" by Neda Ukraden (1975)

In her first incarnation, Neda Ukraden was wholesome, folksy May queen with a enormous family appeal - her initial charm and beauty left some serious impression - but music-wise she was actually quite interesting. Just like probably every local girl singer at the time, Ukraden depended on composers and producers who would know how to successfully present her and in this case her Pygmalion was Nikola Borota Radovan who basically wrote, arranged and produced the whole album. Radovan's idea was very inspired - finding a still untested position in local pop music, he brought something completely new in combination between folk and pop, where his songs sounded deceptively simple and almost familiar but they were in fact quite sophisticated and eloquent variation on traditional folk with just a right touch of pop.

"Jel' To Taj", "Zemlja Nek Se Kreće" and  "Srce U Srcu" were hugely popular and clearly show Radovan's vision - he backed young singer with capable band ("Kamen Na Kamen") and a backing vocals ("Strune"), carefully giving her a star spotlight and she was talented enough to welcome the challenge. Where on her 1969. single debut listener would never find anything remotely interesting, here Ukraden genuinely sound comfortable and happy. Because she was so stunningly beautiful and her music was breath of fresh air amongst mammoth orchestration from pop festivals, this was warmly welcomed by audiences and even today it sounds surprisingly good. 

Photography by Iva Lulić

My vacation spot lies amongst picturesque hillsides of Northern Croatia called Zagorje - its just an hour drive towards North from Zagreb, sleepy little villages and towns comfortably nested amongst the hills but not so distant from the capitol, convenient for weekend visitors escaping hustle of the big city. Thanks to its unique geological properties, Zagorje has abundance of natural health spas and all sorts of cutest old chapels and medieval castles - one of them is just a short walk away from my cottage, huge imposing castle called Veliki Tabor (Great Castle) that used to belong to various aristocratic families trough the centuries, recently beautifully restored and it serves as museum/exhibition place now. I will write more about the castle on another occasion, but right now I want to share with you something I have discovered yesterday during my walk.

It might sound as a paradox that I enjoy my vacation here, since usually work leads me to such various celebrated tourist destinations all over the world as Athens, Istanbul, Rome, Monte Carlo and Barcelona but its exactly because I am constantly there, that I find peace and tranquillity here in the shadow of the great castle. In the daytime the view down the hills towards the village is heart-warming and in the evenings there is absolutely no sound except occasional deer, fox or hedgehog (hedgehogs apparently huff and puff a lot while rustling amongst the leaves, which used to freak me out until I found out where this sound comes from). Frequently the visitors arrive here with a bus and the whole line of visitors invade the road towards the castle - to my embarrassment, I must admit that I walk very rarely towards what is the biggest local attraction simply because its so close that I take it for granted as a part of "my" land but yesterday I walked there, out of curiosity to check out exhibition of art by Croatian soldiers. As usual, I arrived for one thing just to get completely distracted by something else. 

Instead of what I came here for, my attention was piqued by beautiful posters with stunning photographs from another, probably previous exhibition and I simply had to find out who is the photographer. Her name is Iva Lulić and she is brilliant artists indeed, apparently inspired by Croatian folk legends and mythology as you can see from her creations - since I have never seen anything like this before (kind of combination of dreams, mythology, costumes and theatre) I just talked about it the rest of the day and now decided to share her work with you here, because it makes me very proud that we have somebody so creative and talented.

"Les Misérables" by Tom Hooper (2012)

As an unhappy little child, placed in a cold foster home, I had found the solace and escape in the books - naturally I read absolutely anything that came my way via local public libraries and in this novel by Victor Hugo I discovered, for the first time, the fictional character that hugely mirrored my own experience. Yes it was Cosette and the intervening years didn't change one single bit how it strongly affects me to this day. Mention orphan kids and something inside me  falls apart in utter sadness, even lifetime away from it all. 

Amazingly, the idea that sprung in Hugo's mind continues to live on and on, its quite immortal by now. From 19th century bestselling novel to hit musical and now the screen adaptation, it just won't go away and still has a power to affect the people, quite amazing when you think about it. This, of course is a movie version of a celebrated musical so if you are not familiar with the genre, it might appear overtly melodramatic and overblown. Well, musicals are populist version of opera, so there you go, its not supposed to be realistic. They are highly stylised experiences and more you know about them, the more you can distinguish between what is genuinely great and what is not. I have actually seen live theatrical performance in London's West End back in the day when I was so green that I paid too much just to realise the ticket placed me too close to the stage (I had extremely cramped neck all the way trough it) but the sheer power of the performance, energy and the music left me weeping. For an hour and a half I completely forgot about my own miserable life because the sweeping waves of melodrama sucked me in a whirl and would you believe, I still cherish the memory of it. 

By bringing it on the big screen, director Tom Hooper could use countless cinematic visions but he mainly focuses on close-ups, often very sordid and unpleasant - they actually often take the focus away from what is the important (the story, the music). He also makes a completely ill-advised decision of engaging non-singing actors who might have star value but compared to countless experienced stage artists, they can not hold a candle to them. This is a musical after all, so to hear Hugh Jackman clumsily attempting to sing "Bring Him Home" (which is one of the most moving highlights on the stage) is painful indeed, it made me squirm. Anne Hathaway, on the other hand, was simply sensational and the whole brutal, heartbreaking reality of her despair is something I have never seen before in any previous Fantine, it could hardly be surpassed. Strangely enough, once she's all grown up, Cosette don't matter much anymore and Éponine (as played here by excellent Samantha Barks) steals our hearts completely. I have huge problem with Eddie Redmayne and no critic in this world can make me enjoy watching him on the screen, so the double treat of having him singing and acting simultaneously as supposedly dashing young student was unfortunately very uncomfortable experience. Frankly, it is a sensational stage show with a occasionally very moving music but I would prefer vastly different cast, with more attention and respect towards artists who nailed it earlier in theatre. Check out how Alfie Boe sings Jean Valjean and once you hear him doing "Bring Him Home" you will get the idea. It makes you wonder why Wolverine even bothered. 

"Koncert U Čast Karla Metikoša" by Josipa Lisac (1995)

I still remember - some twenty six years later - the conversation between my colleague and me at work, in late 1991. It was right in the middle of the war and horrible, inexplicable things were happening all over the place. Bombings, concentration camps, snipers shooting at the bus with orphans in Sarajevo, something evil seems to have possessed people.

I came trough the door bursting with the latest news: "Imagine, they totally burned the house of Tereza Kesovija in her hometown!" 

"Karlo Metikoš died last night!" she snapped back. 

And we both stood there, motionless in our astonishment.

"She will go mad now, surely" we both agreed solemnly.

Everybody knew that Josipa Lisac and her Pygmalion Karlo Metikoš lived for each other. They were accepted as a couple although they never actually got officially married on the paper (very endearing case of love that needs no formality) they tied the knots in their hearts and that was it for some twenty years filled with creativity, music and loyalty. He composed songs only for her, she sang what he wrote for her. With great reluctance, Lisac eventually had some hits written by others but her soul was forever intertwined with his. When her hero passed away, Croatian über diva appeared slightly unhinged - who could blame her - and although by now (2017) she lives alone longer than she ever lived together with him, I have feeling she never truly recovered. Despite the fact that the life goes on and professionally she was forced into collaborations with other authors, the main mission of her life became keeping the memory of Metikoš alive trough the annual concert tributes to him.

 I was present in the audience on the very first one (in ZKM with all-star assembly, recorded as "Ritam Kiše" that gave impetus to reappearance of by than long-forgotten Zdenka Kovačićek) but this particular concert was grand affair, where she sang exclusively repertoire written for her by Metikoš in various stages trough their love affair. Preceding similar Symphonic recording by Joni Mitchell, Lisac is backed by enormous Symphony Orchestra conducted by Igor Kuljerić and a massive choir, dressing all those pop hits into semi-classical garb and the sheer sincerity of her conviction makes this works despite malicious comments of her colleagues (I won't mention any names, but I heard them firsthand). It does sound magnificent and quite impressive but Croatia is a small country and we simply don't know what to do with someone as remarkable, so it mainly appealed to fans. Mitchell did similar project not long afterwards and she was awarded with "Grammy" for her vision. Caged inside her provincial surroundings, Lisac took a deep breath and went back to pop music.

"Letter from an Unknown Woman" by Max Ophüls (1948)

As a nerdy kid, I was of course familiar with books by Austrian literary giant Stefan Zweig - his 1930s biographies of royalty affected me greatly and probably made me history enthusiast for life, but curiously, I never read this particular novel because the title didn't appeal to me. Now, after this movie was recommended to me and I enjoyed it greatly, my curiosity is tickled since allegedly Hollywood did their typical reconstruction and tampered with the original story in order to whitewash potentially scandalous subject.

Lovely as it is - and its perfectly magical to watch, with a beautiful cinematography and unforgettable images - "Letter from an Unknown Woman" is one of those rare classics that are really triumph of style over substance: story itself (told mostly in flashbacks) is quite silly and melodramatic saga about unknown woman obsessed and so besotted with a seductive neighbour that she throws herself at him, while he is not even aware of her. Back in 1948. audiences probably found this all very romantic, but today her character appears quite unhinged and definitely masochistic. Give it to wonderful German director Max Ophüls to create a true beauty out of this mess - this is my first encounter with his work and guy was true genius, not only that he skillfully and artistically weaves magic but somehow everything looks so dreamy and beautiful that we are caught up in it without asking any questions. From the very beginning to the end, Vienna looks nothing like real geographical place but directors dream of what Vienna should look like - cobblestone streets, rain pouring on the rooftops, labyrinth of strange apartments where one  opens window into another apartment and soaks in the sounds (& smells, probably), amusement parks, dance halls, its all like a stardust. 

In hindsight, real star of the movie is its director although in 1948. all the praise was heaped on Joan Fontaine and her transformations from a teenage girl to a full grown woman and mother. Strangely enough, I couldn't care less for her character - despite the fact that movie is created around her - finding her not romantic but neurotic and even slightly retarded. Everything about her lovelorn gazes, sighs, smiles and open mouth acutely embarrasses me today - let's face it, she is a stalker - but curiously, my attention was focused on Louis Jourdan whom I understand much better. He is debonair man of style and grace, who has his own problems and actually grows as character much more trough the movie (where Fontaine only matures outwardly) - he even made me think of my younger self and how many times I toyed with affections, blinded by confidence of youth, not giving a slightest thought about consequences. Frankly, if I have a neighbour who plays Franz Liszt so seductively trough the night, I would probably roll myself in that carpet. And how cool it is to have a mute servant? (In my next life I want to be Jourdan and definitely I need a mute servant). Marcel Journet is excellent as a genuinely nice, silently suffering husband living with self-delusional wife. Just think for a moment, what kind of a future Jourdan and Fontaine would have if they actually lived together - he would probably got tired of her and she would sit on the stairs, wallowing in her masochism, until somebody sweeps her away with a broom. 

"Blanche Fury" by Marc Allégret (1948)

Grim period piece obviously modelled on successful Gainsborough melodramas - it has basically very much the same ingredients but its centre is much darker, despite glorious Technicolour. Perhaps because it was inspired by the true story so its not really as far-fetched as "The Man in Grey", except that towards the end scriptwriters clumsily had to untangle everything they weaved before, resulting in what appears as quickly patched up finale.

The first time I saw Valerie Hobson was in 1946. "Great Expectations" where she had impossible task to play grown up character of Jean Simmons and suffice to say, she was only memorable as inadequate Simmons. Here, on the other hand, she appears as a stunningly beautiful, statuesque and regal woman - it could be technicolour or camera, in any case she is pleasure to watch as long as her character is strong, wilful and passionate. When towards the end of the movie, her Blanche Fury succumbs to pressure and inexplicably becomes all soft and weepy, the whole story slides downhill. The story is fairly interesting - impoverished governess arrives in a wealthy estate, just to find herself in the middle of inheritance drama - but in the second half the characters of Hobson and Stewart Granger complete change and this transformation is so quick and sudden that it leaves you confused. One moment they are capable to fight off the whole bunch of horse thieves and before you know it, they metamorphose into different people whose words and motivations appear very confused and contradictory. Sybille Binder has a nice, unfortunately underused turn as a sinister servant and this role could have been explored much more if only scriptwriters planned it differently. Strangely, the movie was not great success as expected - it could have been that at this point audience was saturated with costumed histrionics or the characters were not likable, in any case it actually looks much better and more serious than movies that preceded this. Perhaps the remake would be good idea? 

"The Man in Grey" by Leslie Arliss (1943)

First of the famous Gainsborough melodramas and the one so wildly successful that it spawned the whole genre in itself during 1940s, "The Man in Grey" is still eminently watchable costume extravaganza but what initially impressed me the most was the fact that wartime Britain managed to produce something so opulent that it actually almost matches "Gone with the Wind". And for the people who are supposed to be tight-lipped, reserved and class conscious, these characters are extremely passionate and wildly melodramatic indeed. 

I have never, ever, in my wildest dreams expected that I would enjoy this as much as I did. The more I sipped my wine, the more everything appeared unbearably exciting, until I finished the movie pleasantly sloshed and convinced this is one of the best movies ever made in the history of the world. Naturally, the morning after my head is a bit clearer and with some embarrassment I realise that it all sound as I wrote the script myself at the age of fourteen (after too much coffee), though its perfectly clear why it appeal to wartime audiences so much - its a pure screen escapism, packed with sex, passion, jealousy and torment, it depicts people who are unhappy despite their wealth and it basically served lowbrow masses a cardboard, tinfoil pulp story brimming with titillating winks. The script (based on a novel by Eleanor Smith) pit British Scarlett O'Hara against Melanie Hamilton‍ and its a very obvious fight between good and evil, dark haired beauty against blonde fairy princess, two archetypes representing opposite sides of social and psychological spectrum. We know who is good and who is evil, though both Margaret Lockwood and Phyllis Calvert have their redeeming qualities and story makes clear that nothing is completely black and white. Tons of what today we would describe as politically incorrect - little gibbering servant is obviously white boy in a blackface (?), eligible girls are paraded as mares on elegant balls that are nothing but marriage markets and forced into loveless pacts that allegedly bring them social status and happiness, adultery is accepted as long as is discreet, sex is used as a weapon, etc. With all of this - and probably because it unabashedly plays with it, the movie is still compulsively watchable and it deservedly made stars out of the actors, kind of screen equivalent of salacious bodice-ripper but a darn great entertainment. 

"Koštana" by Divna Radić Đoković (1964)

Incidental music for a famous theatre play by Borislav Stanković, this was a very popular rendition of traditional folk music from Serbian district of Vranje and deservedly so, as music is genuinely beautiful. To my knowledge, "Koštana" is one of those plays that never left the stage since the days of its first performance and always attract the most magnificent actors as it gives them chance to really sink their teeth into dramatic roles. If I remember correctly, the title role is actually not the main focus of the play - other characters are far more prominent as this is about traditional village where order and rules are disturbed with potential scandal and people are eventually forced to conform and accept their caged lives as inevitability. Gypsy girl Koštana with her seductive song and dance is just a catalyst that cause all this unravelling, sort of local femme fatale who is unhappy in her own way, as her beauty is a curse. 

Operatic star Divna Radić Đoković played this role for twenty seven years and became forever associated with it, although she actually had pretty respectable background in classical music and apparently was schooled in Vienna conservatory. Despite successful roles in operas by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Charles Gounod and Christoph Willibald Gluck audiences adored her turn as gypsy siren and on this 1964. recording we could hear some part of her appeal. I purposely use words "some part" as prima donna was already fifty years old at this point and hers is not a voice of a young girl - my initial reaction was that she sound matronly indeed but with repeated listening I grew to love the music so much that now I'm over that small objection. Since the singer comes from a completely different environment and hers is a classical background, this is quite far from sexy and seductive gypsy girl but I understand that cultural atmosphere at the times preferred this kind of refined depiction than something authentic and raw. To her defence, Radić Đoković carefully avoids operatic thrills and coloratura swoops, her approach is best described as genteel variation on traditional folk music and as such this recording is perfectly acceptable, although perhaps more as historical document than genuine artifact - where music is truly sizzling with passion and fire is in instrumentals ("Čočečka igra", "Tema") that are fortunately not encumbered with socially acceptable notions of the times. Under all this cellophane it is still a beautiful, haunting music but listener has to deal with decidedly kabuki performance. 

"The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes" by Alfred L. Werker (1939)

Created immediately after previous mega-successful "The Hound of the Baskervilles", this worthy sequel continues exploring adventures of world's most famous private detective and his fumbling buddy. Truth to be told, I don't remember Dr.Watson being described as such clown in the novels but never mind, Nigel Bruce huffs and puffs around with a relish of a someone who actually enjoys his work, so once you get your head around the fact that Hollywood wanted him to be a comic sidekick, its just fine. 

"The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes" introduces that famous literary antagonist Professor Moriarty and at the beginning of the movie we are treated with most unusual occurrence, where right after unsuccessful court action that Holmes took against him, both Holmes and Moriarty share the same carriage in a most civil manner - a moment ago Holmes was fighting to get Moriarty locked up as a criminal, but now they talk politely to each other as true gentlemen. While we are aware that Moriarty cooks something evil, Holmes is distracted with a case involving pretty Ida Lupino and her brother who might be in some sort of danger. There is also a slightly sinister fiancé Alan Marshal who appears as he knows much more than he is ready to admit and all sorts of people running in and out of picture, but all eyes are on fascinating Basil Rathbone who is simply the best Sherlock Holmes on the screen, he really perfectly embodies everything I have ever read about this literary character and its very possible that from now on I will always see him in my mind as such.

"The Hound of the Baskervilles" by Sidney Lanfield (1939)

“Elementary, my dear Watson”

When Basil Rathbone appears in dressing gown and slippers, smoking that famous pipe, the whole world exhaled in awe: here was the screen's most perfect Sherlock Holmes and all the previous incarnations were quickly forgotten. Unfortunately, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was already dead for several years at this point, because it would have been very interesting what he would think of this stunning performance (allegedly, his own favourite was silent actor Ellie Norwood who played world's most famous detective while in his sixties). Allegedly, 20th Century Fox started the whole project with Rathbone in mind and even though he was already well known movie star, from now on he will be forever associated with this character. 

The story is by now well known, but viewers would be surprised how gracefully and imaginatively this is all done, to the point that I watched it completely transfixed and purring like a cat, enjoying it all like its the first time ever I heard about legendary savage dog roaming the foggy marshes and killing lords of Baskerville. (Truth to be told, I read so many Sherlock Holmes stories that I might have forgotten some of them) There is a very interesting detective plot involving mysterious murders, inheritances and howling in the night but I won't go into this now, because for me personally story takes a second seat to settings which are just brilliant - watching beautiful old black & white cinematography, with ancient manors, misty hills and even train interiors was a pure pleasure. Rathbone, of course, is a joy and I could hardly think of anybody who so perfectly embodies Holmes, with his air of congenial superiority (he is always friendly and never nasty, real gentleman). As Dr.Watson Nigel Bruce is unfortunately shoehorned into unenviable role of a comic sidekick - this conforms to Hollywood idea of hero + fumbling buddy but this is not how I remember it from novels, oh well. It's not bad but it does make you wonder why would Holmes even bother with such clown. Young Richard Greene is a present Lord of Baskerville who arrives from Canada to check out his inherited estate and he is very convincing as earnest youth in potential danger - even though I read the novel, I got so carried away that I suspected absolutely everybody around, including sinister servants (one of them is no other than charismatic John Carradine whom I recently watched in 1944. "Bluebeard"). For all its merits - the movie was so successful that it spawned countless sequels - the ending is a little clumsy as I actually didn't get the killers motivation but it might be that I was too distracted with a visual pleasure of watching something so visually evocative.

"Iz unutrašnjeg džepa" by Biljana Krstić (1985)

Known mainly as a vocalist in the bands "Žetva" and "Rani mraz", singer Biljana Krstić enjoyed short burst into spotlight during 1980s when her former band colleague Đorđe Balašević used his considerable clout to introduce her as a solo artist. Belgrade's PGP RTB followed her debut "Prevari večeras svoje društvo sa mnom" with this sequel, which is perhaps slightly stronger but it was still not enough to place Krstić amongst the biggest stars in the front line.

Where on her debut Krstić had a good luck to have material written exclusively for her by Đorđe Balašević and Josip Boček, here she is served by equally impressive team of Momčilo Bajagić and Kornelije Kovač - the songwriting team makes all the difference as songs are actually much better and have wider focus. No more ballads about everyday people living ordinary lives and waiting on the bus stations, this time subjects conform to lighthearted radio pop, with a urban and witty edge - even picture on the cover depicts slightly wacky singer smiling and winking in a full Cyndi Lauper regalia. Of course, its all still very tame and inoffensive, but for the most part this is happy, cheerful record and even singer herself sound vocally much stronger and confident than previously. As curiosity, it must be noted that she is backed by vocal trio "Aska" who were stars in their own right, as they represented us on Eurovision in 1982. (If I remember correctly, "Aska" had their own record released around this time, it was titled "Katastrofa" and was great fun.) For the life of me I can't understand why this record didn't catapult Krstić to the top of the business, because it brims with joy and charm - it has several really strong, feel-good uptempo numbers that could have been potential big hits and ballads ("Obojiću te noćas", "Da li je ovo blues") are graced with recognisable signature lyrics by than extremely popular Bajagić. It still sounds like great fun and its a mystery why it took almost two decades for Krstić to return to recording studios, but than she would take completely different music direction.

"Prevari večeras svoje društvo sa mnom" by Biljana Krstić (1983)

At the peak of his early solo success, singer-songwriter Đorđe Balašević affectionately nudges ex-colleague from bands "Žetva" and "Rani mraz" into spotlight and tailors a whole album of new material for her. Guitarist Josip Boček also helps with music, wrapping everything in his recognisable production that worked so well for Balašević himself on his best-selling albums. I actually remember TV show where Balašević used his guest appearance to simply sit back and proudly introduce fellow singer with encouragement. 

For all his support, Biljana Krstić still didn't managed to break into really big time. She was likable, competent singer but one of those artists who work best as a part of the team, where her vocals gave special magic to collective effort. On her own, Krstić is sweet but not specially distinctive and I clearly recall my initial reaction that this is some pleasant girl from neighbourhood, who could have been nice acquaintance but she lacked charisma of true exceptional vocalists like Bebi Dol (with flowerpot on her head) or Josipa Lisac (madwoman in the attic). After all, the 1980s were about big hair, eye-catching outfits and colorful presentation, where Krstić appeared slightly reluctant to actually clown around.

In hindsight, several decades after its original release, "Prevari večeras svoje društvo sa mnom" sounds perfectly fine - I listened it this morning and surprised myself by enjoying it very much. Everything that didn't appeal to me back than - gentle pop flirting with soft-rock, witty little vignettes about ordinary people waiting for the bus and working in the office, lack of vocal acrobatics - suddenly appear very charming indeed. My reaction is surely coloured by both nostalgia (it sounds exactly as any early 1980s Balašević album) and mature acceptance that life often have magic amongst most routine, everyday lives. That Krstić never attempts to playact into some role that don't suite her and firmly holds on to a certain girl-next-door comfort zone now makes perfect sense, even if this is not something that would bring you to a magazine covers. The whole album is a nice surprise for any Balašević fan as it could have been sung by his younger sister. 

"The Song of Bernadette" by Henry King (1943)

Hollywood biopic of French peasant girl Bernadette Soubirous is sort of miracle in itself, as it skillfully repackages several apparently disjointed ingredients into big production movie - it was based on a successful novel written by author Franz Werfel who himself was a non-Catholic, presented and served for mainly non-Catholic US audiences, introduced the completely unknown actress in the main role and even showed Virgin Mary on the screen (played by at the time pregnant Linda Darnell). Despite all of this, it turned into a huge success and won no less than four Academy Awards, which just goes to show how much audiences responded to its appeal. 

Director Henry King deals with this religious story with surprisingly noncommittal, professional touch - he wraps everything in a highly effective, visually appealing and evocative package but leaves audiences to come to their own conclusions. It is not on the ordinary, downtrodden and poor people but the town's prominent citizens and bureaucracy who stand firmly against this phenomenon that makes Lourdes a practical joke on newspaper pages. Outraged, alarmed and embarrassed with this attention, they try everything in their power to stop this avalanche of visitors until it dawns on them that it might bring them a profit. Lots of excellent actors shine in supporting roles - Anne Revere (whom I recently admired in "Dragonwyck") is unforgettable as a mother torn with doubt, shame and love for her daughter, Vincent Price (in his pre-horror days) is a main antagonist and a symbol of educated class, provoked by the idea that Virgin Mary will appear to someone as low and poor as simple peasant girl and the best of all is Gladys Cooper as a stern nun possessed by envy why with all her sacrifices and piety she wasn't the chosen one. Cooper has such a intimidating presence that she eventually almost unbalances the movie where the main focus should be than unknown Jennifer Jones - I have a huge problem with her acting, even though is clear she carefully followed instructions (and won Academy Award for it) as it brings to mind every single illiterate peasant woman from my childhood days who tearfully kissed pictures of saints and confirmed to the rules of how Catholic woman should behave, always submissive, always meek. What was allegedly held in high regard back in 1943. made me squirm today - when Jones breathy exclaims "I'm thtupid" and "I haven't thuffered enough" I wanted to switch the whole thing off.

At the end it seems its not about Bernardette and her visions at all - its what the rest of the world wanted from it. Bernardette herself accepts to sacrifice herself for the prosperity of her family and shuns the possibility of normal, married life with William Eythe (toy boy from "A Royal Scandal" ) but there is a one short, powerful scene when she enters the cold walls that appear anything but safe haven and with tears in her eyes she finally understand what she got herself into. I watched it as a period piece created with excellent production values of the times but it was slightly difficult as my personal affections were far closer to characters of Price and Cooper than to utterly saintly Jones who, for all I know, might have been talking to aliens. Take me to your leader indeed.

Robert Doisneau: Snow in New York City, 1960

Old pop festivals: Makfest '88

Makfest is a pop festival organized in Macedonia and although the language barrier obviously limited its appeal to local audiences, it valiantly managed to attract artists from all over former Yugoslavia who found convenient gig that resulted with much radio-play in Macedonia. For a while it flourished quite nicely in its own corner and although it was never a threat to big events like Mesam or Split, its charming combination of homegrown and outside guests was a very popular in Macedonia.

As it happened, I would probably never even hear of Makfest if during my national service I wasn't stationed in Štip - this particular recording of songs promoted in 1988. was ubiquitous to such a degree that with time, eventually they all went under one's skin and gradually they became the soundtrack of my days. Since as a soldiers we were not allowed to own photo cameras or tape recorders (it was a matter of security, I guess) radio blasting from a huge speakers on our training field was the only source of music we heard and before you know it, I knew all these songs by heart. Once I have returned to civilian life, I left it all behind and didn't think much of it but in subsequent years sometimes I wondered what on earth happened to all those guys I shared my life back than - not that I was exactly nostalgic about sweat, dust and early rising at 5 a.m. but trough the years one gets a bit soft reminiscing early youth and I really wanted to hear these songs again.

It took me a while, in fact it took me almost three decades but eventually I got my hands on recording of Makfest '88 - it was extremely difficult because no one understood why I wanted old pop festival when Macedonia has so many new, more interesting and contemporary artists nowadays but this one means something special to me. When I hear "Samba vo Štip" my heart jumps from thrill of recognition and I can ever remember the silly words, not to mention see myself at that particular moment of my life, strapped in uniform and marching trough mud and dust. Nothing is seriously earth-shaking here, just usual synthesisers and drum machines galore, but this was very, very popular on local radio back than and it touches the nerve as I was there that summer, ridiculously young and fit to burst from all the exercise. This morning I am sitting here, listening Biljana Damjanovska singing "Zošto te ljubam", it seems like another lifetime now, tapping my foot and humming along - this is what music does, it brings you to another place and time like Proust's Madeleine cookie. Surely I would not return to these times - once was enough - but oh, how much I would love to embrace my ex colleagues who are all lost somewhere around the world and I can hardly remember more than just a few nicknames now. This Makfest '88 is really tugging at my heartstrings today. 

"Leave Her to Heaven" by John M. Stahl (1945)

Behind cryptic title that left me perplexed but audiences in 1945. supposedly understood its literary origins, hides gripping melodrama that slowly builds to very engaging finale. Twentieth Century Fox went full blast with this one, adapting successful novel by Ben Ames Williams into quite spectacular Technicolour feast for eyes and everything about the sets, houses, interiors and stylish clothes is so mesmerising that it almost takes away from the story - almost but not completely as once you get over the sheer visual pleasure of it all, the movie turns into completely compulsive watching. In hindsight, it plays completely by the rules of the day (good has to overcome the evil, there has to be a happy ending) but its all done with such perfection that even the relatively slow start pays off later when things start really cooking.

Chance meeting in a train gets likable writer (Cornel Wilde) hypnotised with a beauty of mysterious heiress (Gene Tierney) and no one could blame his infatuation, since Tierney must be one of the all-time greatest Hollywood beauties - its completely plausible to imagine her as competent Scarlet O' Hara - the inconvenience of her previous engagement to Vincent Price is dealt quickly and mercilessly, as Tierney has a huge daddy complex and Wilde is dead ringer for her late father. Newlyweds eventually settle in a remote love nest where amongst idyllic surroundings things turn extremely sour - with painful patience and humbleness, Tierney plays meek housewife willing herself with all her heart into this new role but this was decades before "The Feminine Mystique" and Betty Friedan and I wonder how much of contemporary audiences got the subversiveness of the message that being a decorative plaything could be psychologically damaging. Its very obvious to us today but back in 1945. women perhaps genuinely expected that having a setting a table in a lovely cottage for a husband typing away outside on a sunny balcony is a embodiment of happiness. 

Without going on in further details of the story - it gradually turns into surprisingly effective psychological examination of interrelationship between characters who hardly have anything in common besides physical attraction - I must compliment Tierney who bravely sinks her teeth into a chilling role that completely differs from her usual screen turns as decorative beauty and she manages to pull it off with a relish. Critics noted it and she was even nominated for Academy Award (it went to unsinkable Joan Crawford) although I can't help wondering how much her looks might have been actually hampering her professional fulfilment. All focus is on Tierney but Price gives a strong, passionate performance as a jilted lover - even with these two, personally I found that Technicolour dream is the major star of the movie, I don't remember last time when I enjoyed so much just admiring the clothes, interiors and lifestyles on the screen.