Jodenbreestraat now and than

 

Stumbled upon some beautiful old photos of Jodenbreestraat and went into a rabbit hole, searching for more. Since we are in a lockdown again, our streets are deserted and it just seems so fantastic that on these old photos everything was always so crowded, like people genuinely lived on the streets. There are always literary hundreds of faces constantly walking, strolling, enjoying the view. This particular street which is right in the centre of town, does not look as anything special today, thanks to city mayors who did not understand the importance of preserving history - the mainly Jewish neighbourhood was completely looted as the citizens were arrested and deported to concentration camps during WW2. Eventually sometime in the 1960s the street was more or less transformed into what we see today - the left side keeps the same original line but the right side is completely gone, the only buildings that still exist  from the previous era are Mozes en Aäronkerk (a church), Rembrandt House and Huis De Pinto. The church tower in a distance is Zuiderkerk which still exist.

"Baltimore" by Nina Simone (1978)

 

Accidentally, this happened to be the very first Nina Simone album I have ever heard. Her major 1960s LPs were not available at the time and this was something current, so I bought it with my pocket money - this was time when you actually had to purchase albums to listen the music at home - and the introduction was lukewarm, as I didn't know what to make of it. Curiously, there were some very positive reviews around and I felt perplexed why the magic of this particular album eludes me. 

Fast forward several decades later, re-visiting "Baltimore" again. At this point its an old friend. By now I know who is Simone, where she comes from, the source of material, what producers probably wanted to achieve. In fact, I am pleasantly surprised that I appreciate everything that I had initially disliked - namely her idiosyncratic voice, random song choice that goes from reggae to gospel, folk and pop - now I pay much more attention to classical touches on piano, excellent backing vocals, production. And with amusement I note how it was via this album that I first heard majority of these songs and THAN much later found out the originals. I would not recommend it as introduction to Simone, because this was not really representing her best points - for that you might turn to anything from 1960s - "Baltimore" is more like phase where producers tried to modernise and update her sound. It feels as a hybrid between what Simone wanted - artsy piano ballads - and what producers had in mind - pop music. Very probably it was frustrating for both sides. To be honest, I cannot find any faults with Simone's albums in general - she is fascinating artist - its just that this might be not her strongest point. If you are familiar with the rest of her discography, this might be rewarding little gem.

Old Amsterdam

Some of my earliest memories are connected to the area where I lived as a toddler, the famously disreputable Tkalčićeva street where I played in the streets and parks, not understanding what was actually going on around me - looking back, I see poor people making the best with time that was given to them, but there was a lot of poverty, hand-to-mouth life, alcoholism, wife beatings, etc. Come to think of it, two things were constantly missing; money and prejudice. Because the crowd who lived in these crooked little houses was themselves on a funky side, being an alcoholic or a streetwalker was nothing unusual for them. They were very accepting about that. However, back than I had no idea who are these people and was thrilled to death discovering old basements, dusty attics and houses that have generally been in various stages of complete neglect. To this day I have preserved that, perhaps ridiculous kick, where I just love to see old houses with their amazing stories of the past times. Mind you, not only elegant buildings but actually really, really old huts where roof is leaning one way and the door another. Why exactly I am so drawn to the old houses, I have no idea except that I feel they speak to me and I can sense there was a story here. (Above mentioned street of my childhood eventually got cleaned up and is now sort of chic promenade but I never ever go there)

I have several very interesting old pictures taken around Amsterdam that fascinated me for the longest time and I get a kick out of them. The first photo was taken by famous Jacob Olie in 1892 and it shows a completely abysmal scene of some incredibly impoverished huts on a canal that was very soon covered and later became De Clercqstraat. As with all the houses inside the canal belt, sewers were connected directly to canals, so you can imagine the smell that was going on. 

The next photo comes from 1916. and it shows typical life in what was The Old Jewish area Uilenburg that in a modern days is very much re-constructed, re-designed and re-populated. As expected, people who comment on these photos are all glorifying some nostalgic nonsense, while in reality people were dying from TB left and right, living in a overcrowded tiny basements and it was basically a slum. 

The last picture shows crooked, old houses in a oldest part of town, around Oudekerksplein and they are still here, except nowadays eclipsed with gaudy signs advertising restaurants, bars and yes, girls in the windows. But the way we see it here was probably going on for centuries. To me this is like the most exciting time machine. I needed to post this because too often people have idea about Amsterdam as some romantic place full of canals, swans, bridges and quaint little houses - true, but as with every big city, there is also a slum, gutter and survival going on. 

"Love for Sale" by Tony Bennett and Lady Gaga (2021)

Remember all those wonderful 1950s albums where Ella Fitzgerald or Anita O'Day or Jeri Southern were recording tribute to Cole Porter? Those were actually not the originals. They were a second life for the material mostly written for 1930s Broadway shows and the rise of LP format made them popular again. Decades later, there was another Porter renaissance with charity album "Red, Hot & Blue" where than-current artists like Neneh Cherry, The Pogues and U2 re-shaped these songs in a pop idiom. Now, with this album we come full circle back to the originals, where modern day polished production meets the spirit of old 1950s LP albums. And we have an actual singer who was there in the 1950s.

Contrary to my expectations and despite my reservations, I was instantly won over with the music. I knew the material - heard it in hundreds of versions - and its quite impossible to resist such a feel-good, foot-tapping swing and naturally classy lyrics. It felt so cheerful and somehow Christmasy that I have listened it several times in a row. Thankfully, there were no attempts to modernise old school music, it was done exactly as we know it. If it true that this is last studio album by Tony Bennett, well he is leaving on a uplifting, optimistic note. As for much-hyped Lady Gaga, I must admit that she actually shoulders majority of the project here and for her obviously this is a labour of love: for that reason I can't criticise her because her heart is in the right place. Initially I wanted to write something about her seeking respectability and validation with this kind of music, but hey, she is in pop music arena and its just a matter of time before she will be forced to return to pop ("return to form" they would say) because this genre is simply not so commercially visible as what she is usually doing. Remember Natalie Cole? She made a sudden excursion into American Songbook and couldn't get out if it anymore, it became artistic cul-de-sac of sorts, because the industry always bets on proven cards, while paradoxically actually needs something new and fresh. I must be honest and compliment her version of "Do I Love You" which is genuinely beautiful. I enjoy this very much. 

"The French Dispatch" by Wes Anderson (2021)

The best thing about this movie was my excitement before I saw it. Walked to a cinema twice (first time all the tickets were sold out) on the strength of "The Grand Budapest Hotel"  and that summer when I binged on all movies by Wes Anderson with the greatest pleasure. Now I don't know what happened, did I changed or he changed or he is simply too much Wes Anderson but I know in the first 10 minutes this movie is a big mistake. The guy was always peculiar and to be honest, not even so original - I have seen all of  this in "Amélie" (2001) which was truly unique and ground-breaking as sort of mother of all cartoonish movies that came afterwards. But in this particular movie, its like Anderson thought "Hm, how can I possible squeeze all my favourite actors and their families and neighbours in one movie? Ah yes, I will create a omnibus and create space for 6 499 characters! How clever of me!" 

Dear reader, I hated it. In fact, I hated it so much that I even considered leaving the cinema and the only reason why I did not (several people from the audience were not as polite as me) was because I somehow got it wrong that there will be a Dalida song in the soundtrack - I mixed it up with James Bond (her song was in that movie). I knew immediately that this will not be for me because there was too much introduction talk and voiceovers with such a manic tempo that I found it annoying and difficult to follow. Three unrelated stories are here just to show off dazzlingly glowing list of Hollywood celebrities who each have exactly one minute before somebody else elbows them aside. Kind of modern-day Robert Altman but in a very, very fast pace that gives audience no space to breath or understand what is going on. Like extremely caffeinated Wes Anderson. I even thought that maybe this is a kind of movie to be enjoyed with help of some substances, maybe than everything would finally make sense? This is so far the most self-indulgent Anderson movie I have seen - it is everything we know from him but blown out of proportions, in some grotesque, Gargantuan way - almost like he parodied himself.

Which brings us to the question: for whom was this LSD fantasy actually made? For his cult followers? They would watch it anyway. But the new audiences - and even some older, like me - will be put off with such extreme, almost nauseating opulence of details. Where previously a viewer might have delighted in some clever detail or ornamentation, now the screen is so cluttered with them that its actually hard to focus on a story and I actually doubt is there a story at all. All this characters are just cartoons and at the end movie actually genuinely becomes a cartoon - seriously, this all brought me to such a bad mood - I could have stayed at home and spared myself a tedious afternoon - it put me off going to cinema at all, since there is so much to enjoy online. 

"A Natural Woman: A Memoir" by Carole King (2012)

A few years ago I have read "Girls Like Us: Carole King, Joni Mitchell, Carly Simon - and the Journey of a Generation" by Sheila Weller - it sounded promising, as a portrait of three most famous singer-songwriters of their era, but unfortunately it quickly deteriorated into gossipy list of boyfriends and relationships - somehow it wasn't about their music at all but about tabloid material and it makes point that one of the reason female artists are not taken seriously is the way we perceive them as entertainment - as long as we focus on secondary subjects like personal lives, looks and gossip, the music is overlooked. This is why I was curious to read a first-hand memoirs by great lady herself and how was it for her.

Although she was born in Manhattan, King has a certain naiveté about her and this is a huge part of her charm: there is a simplicity and modesty about her (she never aspired to become a superstar and become one when industry basically pushed her into spotlight) which makes the title of this book simply perfect. Even if you are not aware of her incredible back catalogue of the 1960s when she was part of songwriting duo Goffin &  King, you probably must have heard of "Tapestry" - a quintessential early 1970s album that broke all the records and stayed in hit charts for six years - one of the best selling albums of all time and one that created singer-songwriter genre. Here, for the first time King recollects how was it for her to enter the music business as a teenager, the buzz and excitement of creating all these early hits after hits - "Will You Love Me Tomorrow", "The Loco-Motion", "Up on the Roof", "One Fine Day", "Oh No Not My Baby", "Goin' Back" - and what was going on in the background, where she as twenty-three old had to sign papers to allow shock treatment for her schizophrenic husband who (like many others) burned his brain with LSD.  

King herself might have stayed in the background permanently, if it wasn't for smart music industry agents and producers who realised this little housewife might be a talent worth nurturing - they carefully guided her into spotlight and eventually she blossomed as a reluctant pop superstar whose simplicity appealed to millions around the world. "Tapestry" came as a balm, as a medicine after a decade full of excess - it still has a healing power, all those years later. That is why it comes as a surprise to find out that right after that phenomenal success, King disappeared into a life on a farm - to my knowledge the only superstar who did so - and came back from time to time just to record new album as she was contractually obliged - where she lived without electricity, milked the goat, washed her clothes at the spring and basically lived what we would call today off-the-grid. There are recollections about failed relationships (not surprisingly, since she must have been attractive catch), songwriting, people who for various reasons impressed her and (the elephant in the room)  long-winded, detailed description of legal fight with her neighbours to stop them driving trough her property - it is such a petty detail blown out of proportions that it makes you wonder how on earth this gets more space in her memoirs than any far more important music collaboration or creation. I mean, she didn't mention Dusty Springfield once but she gets on and on how she fought in the court for years to prevent people from driving on the road. 

"The Rose Tattoo" by Daniel Mann (1955)

A friend's casual remark suddenly reminded me that I have never seen a movie with Anna Magnani. Now, I know who she was, but besides my friend (whose mother was a fan) I guarantee that none of my other friends, colleagues, acquaintances or proverbial man on the street would know her name. In her time, Magnani was one of the biggest international movie stars in the world and in fact the very first Italian actress to win Academy Award (I think she was the first Italian person, period) - but the dust of time has fallen over her work and she seems quite forgotten nowadays. What strikes me immediately is that in the post-WW2 Europe she was so highly respected for her talent and spirit, but everyone understood she was never a great beauty - that was not the point in actress of her calibre - and decades later, the industry has completely focused on a cellophane so now it is looks, diet, fitness and fashion that what we judge in actresses today - someone like Anna Magnani might not even get a chance today. Perhaps she lived in the time that was perfect for her, perhaps we all do. 

"The Rose Tattoo" was a theatre play by Tennessee Williams and as expected, it happens in Mississippi, so the humidity and heat reflect the passions of the characters. Its a story about a jealous and passionate Italo-American housewife who becomes grieving widow and builds a shrine to her grief, in fact she wallows so much in her grief that it suffocates her young daughter and all the neighbourhood. Until young Sicilian truck driver comes her way and suddenly she wakes up from her slumber and becomes flirty indeed. Williams wrote the script himself and insisted Magnani should be casted as Serafina Delle Rose because in his opinion, she would be perfect. I didn't know what to expect at first and was watching Magnani being all theatrical and hysterical and her sexual obsession with her husband (that later grew into another kind of obsession as a widow) was almost like caffeinated Judy Garland - I even wondered, is this was audiences liked in the 1950s? Over the top women who were throwing themselves on the floor and tearing heir hair? Than suddenly, like clicking the fingers, drama becomes a comedy - at one point, when daughter's boyfriend came to visit, Magnani somehow switches from grieving widow into a earthy, sassy Italian mamma and from that moment the movie is all about her being sharp as a nail, while the world turns around her. I don't care about anybody else in the movie, specially not about Burt Lancaster as a feather-brained, lusty young Sicilian truck driver (he gives it his best, but I still think he was all wrong for the role) but my oh my, was she funny! 

This was the very first time that I was watching Magnani so I still have to wrap my head around her art - she was not a great beauty, in fact she was not beauty at all - we could perhaps compare her somehow to great Bette Davis in a sense that both had charisma that rules the screen, but where Davis could have been dolled up to be a lady if necessary, Magnani was kind of tired, everyday face that we see behind the counters of the bakery or the supermarket's cash registers. Because she light up so much during her comedy scenes, I have impression she might have been great comedienne who was pigeonholed as dramatic actress too long? I know for sure that women loved her, probably because there was something really earthy, motherly and honest about her face - she was never a treat to other women, but probably represented one of them. Very interesting, because I can't think of any other actress whose looks was so defiantly unglamorous. We are now conditioned to associate term actress with beauty and looks, but Magnani is a completely different species - a serious actress. And a brilliant one. Must find more of her work. 

Photo of the Day

 

"Voyage" by ABBA (2001)

Abba has returned to say goodbye. Return of the Swedish superstars was probably the one good thing about 2001 and no doubt after so much sadness, suffering and hurt, it appeared as a God-sent gift to the world. In reality, this album has quietly been prepared for some time already and could have been released years ago - its just accidental that it came out now and is perceived as a perfect timing. It is also a testament to their musicianship that time has absolutely nothing with their music - it is still fresh, magical and thrilling like when it was recorded in 2016. or for that matter as anything they have recorded 40 years ago. As we all know now, they have worked on some Avatar performances when they decided to add two completely new songs and satisfied with the results, completed the whole new album. Simultaneous introduction of these two new songs - poignant "I Still Have Faith In You" and "Don't Shut Me Down" exploded around the world like a hit of a comet and even I must admit that I cried my eyes out from sheer joy and recognition of hearing two familiar voices together. Apparently I was not the only one, since millions around the world are still bawling on youtube and there is a huge, across-the-generation affection for now elderly Swedes. 

The first thing that strikes me, is how unique they still sound. Abba always had their original sound that came not just from combination of ladies voices but layers of harmonies swirling around - it is still here, instantly recognisable as ever. On the press conference, Benny Andersson and Björn Ulvaeus explained they had no interest in updating their sound, since they don't understand current pop music - they simply worked in their own Abba bubble, creating music as they know it and it shows. Bare in mind that last time we heard Abba, it was in 1981 (exactly 40 years ago!) and it sounds exactly as it could have been sequel to that album. Not old-fashioned or dated, just a magical sound preserved like ancient mosquito in a piece of Amber. Another thing to consider is that back in 1981 they were two divorced couples whose private dramas reflected in their melancholic music - well, now they are in their seventies but this time there is noticeable excitement about working together again, just don't expect any of the giddiness of early pop singles. To understand this album, you must go back and hear what did it preceded it - "Super Trouper" and "The Visitors" - it is a sound of grown up, mature Abba, not a young band who pranced around singing "Waterloo" or "Mamma Mia".

Here perhaps lies the reason why reactions are so confused and divided about this long awaited return. We simply have nobody comparable who had re-grouped 40 years later and kept their integrity intact - Abba recorded again on their own terms and insist "we are older now, we have no interest in pretending otherwise" - so there are people who just don't get it that these are not same people known for their classic, exuberant sound. Critics, as always, were brutal and virulent, but than again, they always were - you would think that after 40 years they would learn to appreciate Abba's gifts but there is still an enormous resentment of omnipotent Swedes - while audience welcomed "Voyage" with open arms, critics are still finger wagging over everything that makes Abba in the first place. I have been listening it for days now, sure it can't have resonance of past hits but new music is still enormously satisfying and it has a great emotional impact. Since previously they never officially said goodbye, this is a classy way to sign off and leave. And no one has done it before like this.

"Sinister Barrier" by Eric Frank Russell

 

“From now on, every time a troublemaker shoots his trap, we’ve got to ask ourselves a question of immense significance; who’s talking now?” He put a long, delicate finger on the article under discussion. “Here is the first psychological counterstroke, the first blow of intended unity– the crafty encouragement of suspicion that somewhere lurks a threat of dictatorship. The good old smear technique. Millions fall for it every time. Millions will always fall so long as they would rather believe a lie than doubt the truth.”

This little, forgotten SF novel (published originally in 1939.) brought me a lot of joy - from time to time I regret not paying more attention to SF genre and somehow was inspired to check this out. In fact, it probably qualifies more like pulp fiction because there was nothing philosophical or epic about it, it was pure, good old fashioned action, with some nasty Aliens thrown for a good measure. The idea behind it is that scientists stumble upon a new discovery, that there is another, “sinister barrier” outside of our visual spectrum and once humans can actually see the world around them differently, they became aware of horrible floating Aliens (who might be original, true natives of Earth) who feed on negative emotions of humanity - wherever there is pain, agony or suffering, they arrive and suck the energy out of suffering people. Once we can actually see them, Vitons look something like some huge Medusa in the sky. 

There is a quite gripping story with sort of James Bond character involved (he is government agent) Bill Graham who is a killing machine, womaniser and indestructible all at the same time - I must admit that it reads like the best adventure novel and I actually couldn't put the darn thing down - but the most interesting is how the humanity is described - when something totally new and unbelievably dangerous comes along, majority of the world refuses to accept it and start believing in all sorts of conspiracy theories, instead of listening to government advices. There is also a very intriguing theory that Vitons use superstitions because they know humans are gullible and often perform "miracles" or all sorts of phenomena, knowing that people will believe in everything: "the priest and the medium have been equally their allies in the devilish work of seeing that the blind masses stay blind."

Photography: Fred Stein and Gerda Taro

Out of curiosity - and since now I am proud owner of a Museum card - I went to a local Jewish Museum. The main reason was to see the photo exhibition of an artist whose work intrigued me, but actually the museum itself was so interesting that I almost forgot why was I there. I have almost exited, when I remembered there is also a temporary exhibition tribute to this guy. Fred Stein was German photographer who was haunted out of Germany and France by Nazis and eventually found a new start in US where he became quite well known. Just reading the details of his biography sounds like a movie - together his wife, he escaped Germany in a nick of time (the son of the factory owner warned him that Gestapo was asking questions about him), their little apartment in Paris was a haven for artists who slept, ate and held long discussions there and when the couple eventually escaped occupied France, they were hiding in the bathrooms of trains. Still, they started a new life in New York where he continued his photographer work and eventually changed his focus from a street photography to portraits. I find his work enormously interesting and wonder can street photography work today, in atmosphere of fear and suspicion, when people would not welcome a stranger taking photos of them? 

Somewhere in the collection, there was a interesting old, black & white photograph of a happy couple smiling together in some Paris bar. Apparently the only photo of them together. That was Gerda Taro and her love, Robert Capa. Both war photographers and very famous in their time, specially for their work in 1930s Spanish Civil War - in fact, Taro died in action, while shooting army retreat. In this photo exhibition they were quite a few pictures of smiling Taro, who for a while lived with Stein and his wife in their Paris apartment - she is immortalised on a series of black and white photos as a vibrant, young woman (and quite a beauty) living in unusual and dangerous times. That one particular picture of a smiling, happy couple somehow intrigued me and made me curious to do some more research about her. The story could make a very good movie or a novel. 

"Fire from Heaven" by Mary Renault

This was a long-postponed read, a birthday gift from a dear friend and something that I planned to read for a very long time. In her time, British writer Mary Renault was famous writer of immaculately researched historical novels set in the world of ancient world - admired for her writing style, Renault was apparently also very well known amongst her LGBT readers for describing same sex lovers in her books, which actually was perfectly natural in ancient Greece. This personal fact I would normally not even mention, considering that I believe that talent is a talent and whomever Renault loved in her life is her private business, but it looks as she is something of a LGBT icon - for describing gay characters in compassionate and even poetic light - and this is actually curiosity because Renault was from older generation that kept lid on private lives and would not associate herself with any movements. According to Wikipedia: "she was suspicious of identifying oneself primarily by one's sexual orientation" - which is exactly my opinion and it means that Renault and I would probably get along just fine, if we ever had imaginary dinner in Durban, where she moved with her female partner. So Renault is very much known amongst a specific part of her cult audience, but herself was not involved in any protests or anything, in fact if you look closely, her female characters are not exactly positive. Judging by this (my very first Renault novel), ladies are actually evil and manipulative. We probably must keep Renault in her times. 

"Fire from Heaven" is about Alexander the Great and his formative years, up to the point where he becomes king. This is not just some writer sitting around with a bottle of wine and flying on the wings of a wild imagination, but Renault actually did serious research - at the end of the novel she quotes references by Plutarch, who is our only source about Alexander, since all records by his own contemporaries have perished. So things that she have described are known in history, hers is only a style - and what a style that is! I would genuinely place her somewhere between Robert Graves, T. H. White and Mary Stewart - giants of historical/fantasy fiction who all had their own particular voice. The only reason why I don't think of her highly as say, Marguerite Yourcenar is because Renault can be (in my personal opinion) so extremely cautious when dealing with her gay characters, that I would read the sentence three times and still was not sure what am I reading. I understand she was from different generation and very, very touchy about it, but this specific signposts and hints are too complicated for me. Take for example this sentence: "Hephaistion thought, I am in the King’s gift too, a favour he can take away. Presently, having no more words, he offered instead the sadness of Eros, for this at least brought sleep." What does this mean? Am I imagining things? What IS the sadness of Eros? All trough the novel we witness beautiful friendship between Alexander and his friend Hephaestion and we are told that everybody suspects they are lovers but everything was always left unspoken and now suddenly there is the sadness of Eros? 

Renault's writing might be a little bit too vague for me - she has excellent, flowery style and is a master of describing the atmosphere and the place - but to be honest her Alexander was so idealised that I had a constant gnawing feeling that he is just a symbol, not a real character. He was constantly described as a young God whom everybody loves and idealises, his golden locks and strong muscles and noble character and the divine smell of his armpits - and everybody has sex except him, because he is not that kind of guy. His parents are far more realistic - I had a genuine affection for his father, one-eyed Macedonian king Philip (whom history conveniently remembers as a bully, in comparison to glowingly blameless Alexander) and was terrified of his perpetually angry, scheming and manipulating mother Olympias. Curiously, the main reason why this novel is remembered and loved - gay bromance between Alexander and his friend Hephaestion - interested me far less than the story itself. I read fiction as escapism and for me its all about the plot (or the style), not so much about identification, since my favourites are not necessary main characters but some supporting person who might come and go on one page. There is enough action, passion and intrigues here to make it into a very exciting movie (or even TV series) - though it took me a while to go trough Renault's writing, I might explore some more of her writing, since this was actually a beginning of a trilogy. I might even need to re-read this one again, with different perspective next time. 

"The Father" by Florian Zeller (2020)

This is something I wanted to see for a long time, but postponed because in the last moment it occurred to me it probably might disturb me. But since I gravitate towards serious movies, it was inevitable that I will eventually go and see it - one of those strange days when deciding to have some quality time by myself, without anybody around. I took a beautiful, long walk towards the cinema, admiring window shops, inhaling the beautiful, sunny day and being very much aware of myself walking along the streets. No headphones - sometimes its enough just to listen to the buzz of life around. So I was actually in a good mood. 

"The Father" is adaptation of a highly successful French stage play "Le Père" that had previously won truckloads of international awards and have been staged in Paris, London, on Broadway, in Los Angeles, Australia and in more than 45 countries. Nothing of this would ever come to me if was not for Anthony Hopkins who has won "Oscar" for this role, against highly expected Chadwick Boseman. I have seen Boseman's role in "Ma Rainey's Black Bottom" and he was electric - however, his one scene can't compare with full-length-movie virtuosity of Hopkins who switches between charming and menacing to lost and weeping. It was really tour de force and sensationally good role for any actor and I must say, I have never seen Hopkins acting better. True, in "The Remains of the Day"  he might have been more reserved and in zillion other roles he showed different types of personalities, but this one is extremely moving. 

The movie was directed by its original writer Florian Zeller who came on brilliant idea to show us dementia from the point of the view of The Father (Hopkins) - because he constantly forgets where he is and often gets disoriented, the space around him changes suddenly - the rooms in apartment switch and now he is in a waiting room of a hospital. Even better, his daughter Olivia Colman goes into the kitchen and comes out as a completely different actress (Olivia Williams who later comes as a nurse in a hospital). People around him are not who he expected them to be, he rages, laughs, argues and constantly fidgets about his hand watch that he suspects people want to steal. The whole story kind of goes in circles, where we slowly understand that he suffers from dementia and his long suffering daughter keeps him in her own apartment (with her marriage falling apart under pressure) while trying to arrange caregiver who might endure father's nasty personality. 

Its two-people show: Anthony Hopkins is heartbreaking as elderly eccentric who obviously was previously a strong man and a commanding personality but now is just a frail, old man holding to some ideas about still bossing people around. He even confides to a caregiver that younger daughter Lucy was always his favourite, not Colman (who is listening, in tears). But Lucy is nowhere around and he wonders why she doesn't come to visit him. Its very refreshing to see Olivia Colman out of period costume and she is excellent - she does not have to say much, because her role is one of a long suffering daughter who keeps the burden of the world on her shoulders. She does not have to scream and shout to project quiet tenderness and affection for her father. But we are aware that she is falling apart under the pressure and that eventually she will have to place him in the institution.

I must say that the movie affected me very much - left the cinema disoriented and had to take a long walk to go back to my senses. And its wonderful when movie can affects us so much, this was not just some entertainment but genuinely great art. I recommended it to everyone and will probably see it again. 

"Dune" by Denis Villeneuve (2021)

Yay, its here! Postponed and postponed and prolonged and re-scheduled, famously unfilmable and notoriously complicated SF saga is finally here. It is actually quite amazing that for such a legendary and influential novel, "Dune" does not have already million versions - apparently Hollywood could not simplify original novel enough for a successful movie. I have read the first three parts of the original novel by Frank Herbert and it was brilliant - not unlike "The Lord of The Rings", Herbert had created a universe by himself, with unforgettable and now immortal characters who all mingled, schemed, manipulated and fought amongst themselves like in some ancient Byzantine court. Almost like "Game of Thrones" but translated into SF world where action happens between different planets. In all honesty, "Dune" could have been a fantasy novel if placed in various kingdoms instead of between universe and open space. I have read with the greatest pleasure the first three parts and than stopped for the very same reason why I stopped with "Tales of the City" series - to this day, I find it unforgivable that author has such a low regard for his audience, that he can simply decide to skip the narrative and jump into the future, without preparing us for that. If I remember correctly, the "Dune" saga follows one particular story in the first three novels, than jumps 3,500 years in the future in the book nr.4. Well, this is where I stopped. You can't do this to me, I just won't accept it. (However, I might go back and re-read first three again)

There was some attempts to film the novel and the most famous was 1984. version by David Lynch (of all the people) which was unfortunately heavily edited - because of the gigantic costs, producers were afraid it might be too long & complicated so they edited and shortened the finished product to such extent that even Lynch himself had his name removed from the project. I mean, if you cut half of the movie out, there must be some differences. I actually have it on DVD and its magical - it helped that I read the books so I had no problems with following the story and loved how the characters basically work in SF world but they could be any medieval fantasy/ adventure story as well. It had Kyle MacLachlan, Francesca Annis, Linda Hunt (as a slave), fabulously grotesque Kenneth McMillan as Baron Harkonen and Sting as his sadistic nephew. AND legendary Swedish actor Max von Sydow, and the best of all, Siân Phillips as a Bene Gesserit  mother superior with magic powers. Fabulous. However, there are people who think its too complicated and too confusing, critics hated it and in general SF movies usually age very badly because our technical effects eclipse everything that came before, so the time was ripe for the new version. Here I also must add that "Star Wars" borrowed a LOT from "Dune" so it all kind of feels familiar but not really.

This new 2021. version by talented Denis Villeneuve was all special effects and no heart. Visually it was stunning, vast, hollow, empty, ominous and probably right in describing some far away space in the distant future where humans talk and behave completely different from us - but what was sacrificed was the heart, emotions and any sort of feelings for the characters. Because the attention is so heavily focused on special effects, flying machines, lasers, everything gigantic and planetary, suddenly I realised that I actually don't care for one single character here - they are all just running, screaming, fighting with some unusual weapons and saying empty phrases (desert power?) but do we actually care if any of them live or die? No. They are cartoons. Most of all, I couldn't stop comparing the old Lynch movie to this one and how fabulously the older movie made it somehow look magical - yes it was SF but placed in a medieval court so it made sense. I couldn't shake a feeling this might be the future of the cinema, all special effects and no heart. (This is just first part of planned two). Right now this very minute I am going back to watch the old 1984. version. 

"For Once In My Life" by Carmen McRae (1967)

 

When rock music swept everything away like a tide, the whole generation of musicians who harked back to big bands and American Songbook suddenly found themselves floundering aimlessly. Some found a haven in Las Vegas, others in Far East where Jazz market was the next new thing, than you have some really big names that gamely tried to adopt to new music. Almost without exception these attempts were half-hearted - one listening at pop crossover recordings by Ella Fitzgerald, Sarah Vaughan, Mel Tormé or any of them and its veering closely to easy-listening, but not smooth enough for radio play since they were Jazz based. Oddly enough, the most idiosyncratic and mannered vocalist of them actually sounds perfectly fine.

Carmen McRae might have not been the immediate choice for pop crossover but apparently Nesuhi Ertegun and the guys at Atlantic had a huge respect for her and were determined to give her a push in that direction: no less than four studio albums and one live recording served her nicely until she found her way to Blue Note and eventually later returned to American Songbook. Here I must say that out of all famous American Jazz vocalists who attempted pop crossover, hers are the most enjoyable. And this is not because she suddenly sounded pop - completely opposite, because she was so completely fully formed and charismatic (in her late forties at the time) McRae sounded exactly like her own self, no matter what material producers put in front of her. That ironic, tough attitude stance is always there, mixed with a sudden outbursts of unexpected tenderness and vulnerability - along with covers which were back than expected, as Stevie Wonder, Beach Boys, Dusty Springfield or The Beatles, the biggest surprise is her version of stately Italian ballad "La Musica È Finita" that great lady covered as "Our Song" with a perfect ease and it suits her to a T. It might not have been a great commercial success because rock bands were all the rage, but it worked perfectly fine as the step into current direction for McRae who have not changed a single bit and sounded as she always did. 

Four Generations, circa 1905

 

"Naked at the Albert Hall" by Tracey Thorn (2015)

 

Oh, this was excellent!

I knew Tracey Thorn as a oddly haunting voice from the pop band "Everything But The Girl" and even loved their 1994. album "Amplified Heart" a lot, but this is type of music that I listen for a while before returning to Bessie Smith and my old favourites. No matter what I listen, you can bet that sooner or later it all goes back to Bessie or Edith Piaf. This is where my heart truly is. Because I am not really following pop music anymore, I was not aware that Thorn had quit live performing and somehow channelled her singing voice into a writing one: she had published three books and writes occasional columns about music - this is how I came to this, by reading her enthusiastic review of Kate Bush concert. The article was so interesting, inspired and idiosyncratic that it was clear this is someone with a special kind of writing voice. 

Than a friend suggested I should check more of her writing and since I just finished meandering courtroom thriller by John Grisham (it took me months), I decided to have a peek at Thorn and gulped it in two days. Now, this came as a surprise because I have problems with focusing on reading books for some time now (internet is basically distracting me) but this one read itself. I even went back to some chapters because they were written so well. I truly never knew Thorn is such interesting person and such well-read, engaging writer - in fact, I hardly knew any other singers who had shown such amazing talent for writing prose. Now, majority of singers use their craft intuitively and could probably not explain what is it that makes this special connection between the heart, the mind and the throat. In fact, I still remember someone's description of audition of young and unknown Italian tenor Beniamino Gigli as "surprisingly intelligent for his profession". Singers are simply placed on pedestals as they are more visible than for example instrumentalists in the background, but here we are talking about being celebrity, not being a good writer. The only singer who actually wrote genuinely brilliant autobiography is to my knowledge, Marianne Faithfull ("Memories, Dreams & Reflections", 2007.) And naturally songwriters like Cohen and Dylan would have talent to pull such project off without embarrassment. 

The best thing about this book is that is not a celebrity autobiography. That would just have been too easy, besides Thorn already wrote about herself in "Bedsit Disco Queen: How I Grew Up and Tried to Be a Pop Star"  which was highly praised and showed what a stunning way with words she has. (I still need to read that one) This particular book is a collection of essays about the singing. Not in a sense of singing lessons or technical details how to open your mouth and straighten your back, but discussions about how singing actually happens, what is the difference between singing for oneself and performing in public, what it means "authentic voice" or "mannered voice", how in various genres voice means something completely different (in folk music voice is second to the lyrics and story itself), its full of research, quotes from books and interviews with other musicians. I was honestly just flabbergasted how interesting, inspiring and fluid this all was - there was even a chapter about the singers who stopped singing and what power has a silence if coming from mythological sirens - it is, in my opinion, the best non-autobiographical book by any singer that I have read so far in my life. Loved it! 

Josipa still going strong

Not long ago I was alarmed with the amount of hatred and negativity focused on 72 year old Croatian rock icon Josipa Lisac who was invited as a special guest on the inauguration of latest president and dared to perform very unorthodox, jazzed up version of the Croatian national anthem - what was meant to be a prestigious gig, turned into a huge scandal because apparently people were not accustomed on any liberties being taken with the anthem and there were all sort of accusations made against her, people took it as she was a traitor who purposely mocked it, etc. There was a call to boycott her concerts and even a legal court complaint against her. It was a huge storm (fanned by media who just wouldn't leave it alone and were constantly provoking another survey after survey about public opinion).

In the middle of all this storm, lady herself stayed quiet and would not discuss her musical choices. She did came to collect her lifetime achievement award on TV and firmly but politely skipped the question about the anthem. While the public roared in angry arguments, it became clear what a polarising artist she always has been: people either absolutely love her or can't stand her. There was never middle ground with her, as long as I can remember. This is probably the fate of all genuine giants, they are just so darn individual. I was upset and even myself got into arguments with complete strangers online, it was tooth and nail for a while. I felt as this was culmination of accumulated anger and frustration that has nothing really to do with great lady herself but people were just so darn miserable for too long and probably felt she was too big diva. On the other hand, if you dare to throw mud on one of the major cornerstones in our music, well who is the next than? 

Before you know it, Covid virus erupted and put this scandal aside: suddenly something that people did not take seriously at all ("Its something happening far away") stopped our everyday lives completely and there were no concerts or performances anymore. On top of it all, Croatia got struck with series of earthquakes and than it snowed on them all, it was as end of the world for a while. And guess who still continued - as much as it was possible in the circumstances - you are right, no other but 72 year old, ex enfant terrible Josipa who somehow managed to record a new video clip in a damaged museum space (where she used to sing, I was on those concerts) and slowly but surely continued to give performances when it was allowed. She even gave first ever Croatian virtual concert for which audience had to buy the ticket and log in at exact time. 

Contrary to what I thought, that anthem scandal with turn people against her, it showed who her public is. Perhaps this is why she didn't bother to explain herself to inquisitive journalists: probably she understood long ago that its not critics but supporters who truly matter. The public opinion is still divided and will forever be, when she is concerned - but there is a very strong support amongst the audience flocking to her concerts, buying her music and showing a great affection for her. Judging from the pictures from her live concerts, there is nothing to worry about. I am actually pleasantly surprised.