"The Wasp Woman" by Roger Corman (1959)

I have stumbled upon this camp masterpiece completely by accident last night - it turned out perfectly, just as it should have been, without much planning or analysing - I simply found it on youtube and decided to check it out, not knowing anything about it before hand. It is kind of movies I remember watching back in my childhood on a Sunday afternoon on our black & white TV, cheap thrills and all - it worked perfectly for current, grown up version of me because it took me completely out of this reality to another sphere and just as the best works of literature (or simply great entertainment) it served as a escapism which is genuinely the only thing I expect right now. We might talk about cerebral inspiration, art and poetry all we want - sure, some things do touch the spot and inspire us, but from time to time there's nothing better than a good, old fashioned fun and this movie is a cinematic equivalent of pulp fiction. With all the avalanche of bad news, I need a step back from reality and something that would take my mind completely off this apocalyptic world. 

Mind you, not that I always had a soft spot for old black & white movies, but from time to time really love seeing something that is obviously less than perfect - there is a touching quality in something as a good B movie made on a shoestring budget, where interiors are obviously reused time and time again, where masks are crappy and perhaps only one actor actually looks convincing, while the rest are simply coasting. I am not really familiar with director Roger Corman (except "The Pit and the Pendulum") but he sounds like my kind of guy and whoever creates movies with titles like "Attack of the Crab Monsters"  rates high on my list - luckily his filmography is huge so I have tons of goodies to enjoy & discover. Funny thing is, "The Wasp Woman" is not even specially celebrated amongst Corman fans - he made so many movies that this apparently is just one of the titles but I loved it because I discovered it at the perfect timing and needed something to transport me away. 

The story is delicious in a ridiculous way, just as it should be: Susan Cabot is the anxious owner of the beauty products company that slowly sinks into bankruptcy. For someone at this position, she is surprisingly dowdy but we understand this is only used as a device to show us later how she blossomed - her young (she was only 32 at the time) face is heavily made up to look older and on top of it, they gave her thick rimmed glasses to appear even dowdier. Cabot holds the team meetings with her employees who don't seem particularly interested and are more concerned about non-stop smoking (it is really excessive, something I notice now as I stopped smoking myself). Her saviour turns to be a crazy professor Michael Mark who experiments on wasps and might produce a youth elixir - the catch is, both Cabot and Mark are desperate people clutching the last straw - the rest of the team is suspicious and snickering about this new idea, but in reality nobody else is really doing anything about the business and apparently only Cabot is really concerned. In fact, she is so desperate that accepts crazy professor experimenting on herself - just as her face start to suddenly blossom and appear younger, there are signs that experiment might be dangerous ... I can't say more, but it really turns interesting and even if special effects are crap and masks unconvincing, it is still a good, chilling fun and a proof that there are gems amongst old B movies worth exploring. The original poster has absolutely nothing to do with the movie itself, but this is part of the fun. 

Mišo Kovač - debut single (1964)

The series "FIRST RECORDING" did not last long - the idea, commendable as it was, went on for exactly two years and out of the eight names that "Jugoton" introduced, nobody really caught on with a public. Except this young upholsterer from Šibenik and even he will have to wait until the end of the decade to finally get wide recognition. Producer Pero Gotovac wrote interesting liner notes, convincing potential buyers that this young singer might be worth their attention and quoting all the amateur contests where Mišo Kovač performed until this point, but curiously noticing also a certain rough edge and infatuation with foreign idols that he hoped will soften with time. Prophetically, it will all come true and indeed Kovač will find his voice only when he sheds the influences of artists he had listened as a young man. 

Both sides of this debut single were Croatian covers of international hits - side A was "I Can't Stop Loving You"  and side B Italian ballad "Tu Che Sai Di Primavera"  though to be fair, young singer absolutely hold his own and the sheer intensity of his singing might be closer to than still-unknown Tom Jones than to anybody from San Remo pop festival. Jazz cat Bojan Hohnjec (husband of Rajka Vali) arranged both covers in a fine, generic and pedestrian but perfunctory style that failed to raise any genuine interest at the time. This is not so much fault of producer, arranger or even young singer himself as much as the atmosphere on a homegrown music scene that lacked original material - large amount of pop recordings were covers and there is just so much an unknown can do with a cover. The best we can say about this recording is that young Kovač had a strong, booming voice from the start and even if professionals at the time considered it to be a little bit rough, later it served him just fine - it will take a few years until he finds the right material and a composer who will tailor songs specifically for him, but once everything klick, he will be unstoppable. 

Topsy Turvy

So it came that our lives changed beyond anything we were expecting or even imagining in our worst nightmares.

Immeasurably and drastically, but its not like we were not being warned. 

My virtual conversations and diary entries were mentioning a strange Corona virus already back in January when it was still just news about something going on far away - however, the news were getting bigger and bigger, more alarming with each day and I clearly remember buying hand sanitisers at the start of February for me and all my hotel reception colleagues. Those who back than didn't even know or care why am I bring hand sanitisers to work are now the most paranoid, as it goes. The most infuriating thing is how little world care for anything that is not happening to them - we could bluntly call it for what it is, a first world syndrome because general public apparently don't really care for something over there. Well, this is a wake up call. There is no over there, we are all in the same pickle. 

I got sick overnight. One day I felt completely fine and was re-assured by team meeting at my work where somebody from local hospital came to give us some instructions and to explain that we have nothing to worry about and virus is not airborne, in fact it can't even survive on surfaces, it has to be transmitted via cough and such. How could he have been so sure, I can't tell because right now, few weeks after this, we think it actually can live on surfaces for a while. So Monday I am fine, sining and cooking and thinking how bad that my work is closing for two weeks but I will have a nice rest, Tuesday I am burning with a fever. Without going in too much details, on Wednesday I ended up in hospital and they diagnosed me with THE virus. Since hospitals are full of elderly people moaning, groaning and croaking, the hospital staff decided that they need space for emergency cases so I was sent home to recover. No medicine or any other instructions, because nobody knows anything for sure. 

Luckily, I have space to isolate and good friends who brought me food, so we talked trough closed doors. Internet helped, although to be honest I could probably survive without it just fine, since at some point I discovered that obsessing about news has actually negative effect on me. Being informed is one thing, getting all stressed out and worried is another. So the moment I felt better, I made myself busy with the most mundane tasks, cleaning, washing, scrubbing etc, just to keep away from the statistics, numbers of dead and pictures of coffins. There were times that the avalanche of bad news (combined with ambulance cars screaming in the deserted streets outside) made me weep, but most of the time I was just drowsy and exhausted from a fever. I was constantly in touch with a hospital via phone application where I sent them my daily info about current status, interestingly enough they were not worried about my fever at all but inquired about short breath which for them is much more alarming (I had no other symptoms except high fever). 

After roughly a week, my fever has gone completely. I am still isolated - nowhere to go anyway since the life outside has stopped - but feeling much, much better and in fact my main concern right now is that I might turn into hippopotamus. Since nobody knows anything for sure, I actually don't know am I immune, am I still contagious, am I  vampire or a zombie right now. Checking the news and nothing about the people who have recovered, its all about dead and coffins and more dead. I have no more fever, no cough, no problems with breathing or anything such. I might have been one of the lucky people who have strong immune system and have recovered by themselves. Can I catch it again? No one knows. I talked to a doctor on the phone this morning and asked can I visit a elderly neighbour, they think its not a good idea, even though my fever has gone a week ago. 

SO to keep myself a bit busy with something, i decided to stay positive and will continue my scribbling here about books & music & movie stars & poetry & anything that might keep me occupied so I don't obsess with the bad news. I am very much aware how comfortable most of us are at the moment, so being at home with Wi Fi and music is not like the worst thing that could happen. Above is the photo of my little coffee plant that I carried from home to work and back again. 

"Neću Više Plakati/Vidjeli Su Nas Zajedno" by Janja Strmac (1964)

This completely forgotten and obscure little gem haunted me since the first day I heard it and the fact that it didn't make even a ripple upon its release makes it somehow even more interesting. Its one of those records that just fell trough the cracks and were lost in the time, until somebody like me unearths it decades later and cherish them for what they are, forgotten little jewels. 

Even the cover is mysterious: as was the trend back than, it is a fairly generic "Jugoton" cover with a title "FIRST RECORDING" which apparently was idea that never caught on, probably to promote new talents. Out of some amateur contest, competition or who knows what cosmic accident, came bespectacled singer who had no looks, tits, hips or anything that might sell - the only thing she had was a voice. And she pours her little heart out on two lovelorn ballads, really sining like a dream, once you hear her, its actually quite impossible to forget Janja Strmac. Unfortunately for her, the bigwigs at "Jugoton" were not expert businessmen they probably thought they were so they lacked promotional ideas how to sell this new artist and what to do with her - it also has to do something with popular music being still at its early stages and suffering from middle class perception that it has to be "sophisticated" (hence, not really fun) so young girl was not being given something catchy or bouncy or even memorable, but she was saddled with two moody jazz ballads that have absolutely nothing in common with 1964 (year of The Beatles, beat, mods, Vespa, San Remo, Mina and youth culture) but hark back at previous decade. Both sides were arranged by talented Jazz musicians and conductor is no other than great Miljenko Prohaska so we should judge this little gem not as a pop but as a Jazz recording, it works brilliantly as such, its just a pity that poor girl didn't make it or get the second chance.

Side A is of course, Croatian cover of a great R&B standard "I Don't Want To Cry Anymore" that probably started life as 1945. recording by now forgotten Jim Wynn And His Bobalibans and was later covered enough times to became beloved Jazz standard. It is a beautiful song no matter who performs it and for some reason I always associate it with Dinah Washington though Strmac has nothing of her earthiness - the version here is a young, sensitive teenage schoolgirl. Side B could have been one of the countless ballads that used to be performed on popular festivals at the time (Zagreb, Opatija, etc) and in fact the writing tandem Marija Radić/Tona Adnim created quite impressive body of work exactly on these stages. Both songs have nice little trumpet solo and come as perfect example of orchestrated jazzy sound that gently framed this unknown young girl's voice - she does sound very, very good I must admit. And on top of everything, the single ("FIRST RECORDING") went nowhere, public never really got a chance to warm up to Janja Strmac (who could have been our own Nana Mouskouri) and it all fizzled away without a trace. Luckily, there are such things as music archives where yours truly lives and digs until one day Janja Strmac comes out of the dusty corners, shining under the cobwebs. Check her out, you will be surprised. 

Backlash for the First Lady of Croatian Rock

What a difference a day makes ...

In just 24 hours it seems that what was meant to be prestigious and highly publicised appearance at inauguration of the new Croatian president seriously backfired at the my all-time favourite Croatian music artist Josipa Lisac who otherwise had a very successful, respected and long career. She had just celebrated her 70th birthday with sold out concert in Sava Centre, Belgrade and fresh from that triumph arrived at this inauguration at the invitation of president Milanović himself - I was very surprised that she accepted this invitation not only because usually she kept away from politicians but also because I truly believe that it is not wise to mingle with such crowd, they have tendency to slide down and pull everyone with them. But she is our über diva and either genuinely supported new president or could not excuse herself from this occasion, who knows - in any case, for the very first time in her career it actually turned into a debacle.

Josipa was always a very unusual, highly polarising artist: as long as I remember her, there was something about her that divided people. They would either fanatically love her or adamantly be hostile towards her - unusual and unrepentant as she always was, with decades she grew into living legend and her eccentricities eventually came to be accepted - at least this is what I thought, since media was usually celebrating her unique status as a survivor in a fickle business that chews its stars. Without a doubt she was her own woman with unique voice and although visual cellophane often eclipsed everything else, it all came as  package and this is what people expected from her. One thing that always bothered me, was the understanding that she broke the ice as our very first female Rock artist but in all these years there was nobody else seriously following her path - all those other girls would enjoy a moment in the spotlight, just to disappear and no one had this genuinely eccentric, adventurous spirit like Lisac who grew into a "crazy aunt". 

She was invited on inauguration by president himself and arrived there with some young pianist in a tow, all ready to go and perform the national anthem as its apparently now already a tradition in a world, big diva singing for a president. It was a serious misstep. This was a moment when the whole nation watched inauguration on TV and apparently Croatians were not familiar with the way Aretha, Whitney or Chaka Khan perform the anthem in their own, recognisable manner - being traditional as they are, Croatians were shocked, appalled and infuriated when Lisac did her usual shtick and twisted the national anthem around, the way she improvise and twist everything she sings for decades already. Personally I didn't find it different from what she is doing otherwise - this is what she was celebrated for all these years - after all, she is known as a mother of vocal mannerism and by now everybody is familiar with her style. It would perhaps have been better to have some other, more mainstream artist who would perform the darn thing like in a schoolbook, note for note - what happened now is that the whole country is in uproar, people are seriously infuriated and the backlash is so huge that there is even a court case against her (for somebody complained that she mocked the national anthem). Just as I was afraid, her eccentricity finally broke the straw and there is a very public, virulent outcry against her - haters who never liked her are now united - everything that previously she was applauded for is now turned against her and this is a very public lynch against "crazy aunt" who actually never harmed anyone but dared to be different. And its very interesting that all these years she was celebrated for her own eccentricity and originality but deep inside Croatians are traditionalists who actually dislike this qualities, now the moment came when she is publicly mocked for being who she always was. 

And it all happened in only 24 hours! One long, successful and impressive career publicly crashed down with a thunder in a day. As expected, the roar of haters is far louder than gentle support of her fans - this is always the case - the insults are piling up and I can't even imagine what the lady feels right now, being in a eye of the storm. Knowing the way she usually lives in her own reality and the way she is, she is not making things better by admitting that "it was difficult for her to perform so early because she usually never wakes up before 11 a.m"  - a typical comment from her but taken very badly by frustrated public who finally had enough of her. Than also there is a matter of being pop artist of certain age who is still hanging around and overstaying the welcome - damned if you do and damn if you don't - the tabloids have field day with this and seems that people are seriously divided on the issue, I am naturally very upset with this mob attack on an sweet, elderly eccentric lady who has always been harmless and sophisticated pearl amongst rural pack. She has been nr.1 singer for me my whole life so I can't just change my mind now suddenly and even if its true that she should have retired long time ago, rude and vulgar attack on her are deeply distressing. Because it sounds like cautionary tale: if one giant and living legend like Lisac can be publicly mocked, tarred and feathered, than what is the point of putting people on pedestals. 

"Do not ask your children to strive" by William Martin

"The Lighthouse" by Robert Eggers (2019)

Lo and behold, I saw the masterpiece last night and it was absolutely worth going trough the biggest storm this country experienced in a long time - I arrived in a cinema soaked to the skin with my umbrella demolished in the rain - intrigued with excellent reviews (but careful not to read anything about the plot) I waited and waited for months until this movie finally arrived in local cinemas and in fact, last evening was the first screening ever, the regular showing starting towards the end of the month. Must admit that this reviews following is not always successful, in fact its quite hit & miss - I hated "Parasite" passionately and was left cold with "Little Women" for example - but with this, I just had a hunch that it might be something for me. Boy, was I right.

In retrospective, it makes perfect sense that it was created and directed by the same person who did "The Witch" - that was an atmospheric, creepy and unusual movie set in 17th century New England and even characters spoke in some weird, old fashioned Puritan phrases that made the whole movie quite unforgettable experience - some audiences were left confused because it was advertised as a horror and it was actually nothing like cliché we were accustomed to expect, however it had stayed with me much longer than anything else so I guess "the nightmare quality" is what Robert Eggers will be known for. I am getting a bit worried about all this young, talented people who are really creating interesting things, directing great movies and writing brilliant books and they are all younger than me but hey, that's life I guess, we all have choices and our own destinies. This Eggers person is actually genuinely a great movie director and its clear now he is destined for Olympic heights. I rank him on the same shelf with Bergman, Kurosawa and any of those guys.

"The Lighthouse" is immensely bleak, black & white drama filmed in a such way to remind the audience of old, 19th century photographs so its all heavy grey and dark shadows. It reminded me quite a bit of "Earserhead" for some reason (nightmare quality, I guess) and it has only two characters who are stuck together in a Lighthouse at the end of the world where they slowly but surely descend into madness. Willem Dafoe is nasty Lighthouse keeper, limping and swearing, constantly farting and prone to bizarre monologues spoken in a almost incomprehensibly slurred, old-fashioned dialect ("Damn ye! Let Neptune strike ye dead!") while Robert Pattinson is young adventurer who came here to work as apprentice for only four weeks, but slowly reduced to a role of servant and slaving away trough the wind and the rain. Everything is very claustrophobic - two men share cramped little house where everything appears neglected and dingy, there is no warmth or comfort here, just desolation and wast emptiness outside, winds and the sea howling, foghorn blazing and occasional Hitchcockian seagulls that, like everything else, came straight from the nightmares. Forced to live together in a close proximity, two men cunningly fight for the authority - Dafoe insist that only he can control the light and young man has to serve, not only polishing the machinery and collecting the firewood but cleaning and emptying the chamberpots.

Pattinson initially refuses to drink but slowly accepts and thanks to alcohol, loneliness and genuine creepiness of the place itself (that drove previous helper to madness) both men eventually descent into completely raving lunacy, while brutal storms outside get stronger and stronger, matching their violence with bursts of natural destruction. Once they run out of alcohol and start drinking kerosene, we understand this won't finish good. Suffice to say, I watched almost the whole movie with my hands covering my mouth in shock and horror, completely aware that this is too brutal for words but I watched nevertheless - both actors are sensational and very brave, not afraid of physical tasks or to be ugly - in fact they both embrace the powerful roles completely and at times they play as one person. One watches this as a proverbial train crash - we know its horrible but we are still watching anyway - I left the cinema in daze and my head is still spinning the day after, what a sensational piece of cinematic art! True masterpiece - everything is perfect - naturally no for everyone and I just read how odious "Parasite" won four Academy Awards, oh well, to each his own, I think this movie was ten times better. 

"Little women" by Greta Gerwig (2019) or twisting the classics

While watching the latest cinematic adaptation of "Little women", I became painfully aware - and for the first time in my life genuinely so - that the world is passing me by and my way of seeing and perceiving might actually belong to some previous era. Not that I ever felt right in any decade, thought 1980s were forever etched in my heart as I was young and full of spark, spunk and energy at that particular time. However, watching this - to my eyes completely nonsensical - re-telling of famous children's classic, I was constantly annoyed because it was completely wrong and nothing like novel + its success was obviously a result of pandering to modern day audiences who recognised God knows what archetypes in Jo, Meg, Amy and Beth. The tickets are selling like crazy, cinemas are full, so the movie is doing a great business - and I seriously doubt that any of these women giggling in the dark actually bothered to read the novel. 

With all the finances, talents and obviously enthusiasm at her disposal, director Greta Gerwig decided that she will create something that was not done before - despite the fact that novel itself is hugely popular and had never been out of print for 150 years + Hollywood had chewed on it for decades, Gerwig wanted her "Little women" to be all about female empowering, taking control of their own lives, strong willed she-boss and independence. Great - except that we are talking about the novel published in 1868. where, if I remember correctly (since I did actually read the novel, back in my school days, together with its sequels) the focus was on religion, spirituality, meekness and obedience, sacrifices and making the ends meet in a poverty during civil war. The original little women were actually poor and, just like The Brontës, created their own entertainment out of books, papers and scissors from the sheer necessity. It was done very gracefully, naturally, but readers were constantly aware that March sisters lived on a shoestring, which made their sacrifices even more poignant as they lovingly gave, without having much themselves. Jo didn't sell her long hair out of spite, but from desperation. 

The way Gerwig made this movie, spirituality and religion couldn't be further from the table - to make story more interesting to modern day audiences, she creates basically modern, feisty and argumentative March sisters who just happen to wear historical clothes. Nothing in their behaviour (or even in visual styling, come to think of it) is reminiscent of the way people actually walked, talked and behaved back than, since sophistication and style, wit and charm were order of the day - youth kept quiet if not being asked, men politely bowed to the ladies, women had their head covered, always wore gloves, etc, etc - there were some social graces definitely very, very important and the time but neither Gerwig nor her audience are aware of this, because in the current time people are actually against such thing as etiquette (ignoring it or fighting against it is the casual way to deal with lack of sophistication, since its easier to poke fun at it than to admit that one simply lacks home education and manners). A case in point: Gerwig's March sisters are walking on the street like gang of uncouth fisherwomen and lifting their dresses like can-can dancers on every occasion - in one scene, Jo is running in the street so oblivious to her surroundings that she is actually showing her undergarments. The point is, she is running and oh-so-concerned. However, dear reader, girls in that era were not even walking alone in the streets (always chaperoned and preferably in carriages), not to mention running with one's dress above one's head. Come on. Gerwig pulls no punches in order to keep movie very attractive visually, again against the presumed original poverty of the sisters - since father's absence on a front line is mentioned only in passing, what we got here are four giggling sisters obsessed with theatre, dancing and marriage plans, really. To show that she is "creative" and "original" Gerwig also avoids linear storytelling and decidedly goes backwards and forwards, little bit flashbacks than present day, just to go back to beginning - unnerving and completely unnecessary since half of the audience lost the plot in the meantime (me included) and finally it was really difficult to tell what happened when. 

Meryl Streep is a biggest plum here and as a star attraction she does her best Maggie Smith imitation - as expected, she shows her formidable comic timing and is a joy to watch, but its a cartoonish turn, blink and you will miss her. I actually liked Laura Dern as a mother, but didn't care for any of March sisters at all - mainly because it was all about female empowerment, chest beating, we can also do it, give us weapons, space ships, tanks and newspapers, kind of feminism-before-feminism and I found it annoying considering that eventually all roads lead to white wedding dresses and questions who will marry whom. Than there is a famous spiteful monologue that Amy spits at her future husband "Well. I'm not a poet, I'm just a woman. And as a woman I have no way to make money, not enough to earn a living and support my family. Even if I had my own money, which I don't, it would belong to my husband the minute we were married. If we had children they would belong to him not me. They would be his property. So don't sit there and tell me that marriage isn't an economic proposition, because it is. It may not be for you but it most certainly is for me." - which is all fine until you realise it does not exist in the novel at all, Florence Pugh is basically preaching to the choir (girls in the audience) and not to her potential husband who 150 years ago would either turn and leave from such vulgar fisherwoman or slap her in the face for such impudence - women, specially unmarried women, did not talk to men like that. Some victorious critics are carried away with too much enthusiasm and claiming Louisa May Alcott herself would love and appreciate this adaptation - nonsense, its like saying Homer would just love seeing Brad Pitt's buttocks and how they amazingly fit into Greek mythology. The way I see it, its all complete pandering to modern audiences who need to recognise themselves in characters from classic novel (otherwise they would not visit cinema) so hey, let's make them like modern girls on the streets but without cellphones, all fun and giggles, shoes and flirt, boys, boys, boys, marriage and occasional drama. The way it is, this Little Women is all about girl power, hell why not Heidi about global warming, Odyssey about human trafficking and Moby Dick about endangered species. Since US movies can't possibly be just entertaining, they must have some weighty message and life affirming lessons preferably connected to something topic, so we will twist and turn every classic until it suits our agenda. 

"Got to Tell It: Mahalia Jackson, Queen of Gospel" by Jules Schwerin (1994)

Reminiscences of movie director Jules Schwerin who some three decades earlier tried to make a documentary about majestic Mahalia Jackson (who at the same time made far more prestigious cameo in "Imitation of life") and his own take on the world he knew nothing about. While being impressed and drawn to the Afro-American community and Gospel music, Schwerin can only be embarrassed for the brutality and harshness of 1950s racial segregation (when Mahalia drove him around New Orleans, he had to sit at the back so it appears she is driving her boss) but basically he is outsider peeking into another reality. Peppering his story with testimonies of other travellers on the same road, author unfortunately falls in the trap of listening embittered voices who were left in the dust behind Jackson's international success - often its just pure envy and jealousy, claiming she had changed and somehow metamorphosed into shrewd businesswoman. 

It seems that even decades after her passing, people still try to understand such towering presence that Jackson was and easiest thing is to point at her humanity: look in her private life, she was not so holy as we think. Schwerin gleefully lists anecdotes and lists of situations where the stress of travelling life on the road, searching for accommodation, taking care of finances and performing made even "Queen of Gospel" curse and people are quick to recall how she kept cash in her bra, etc - what nobody can explain is where this magnificent spirit came from and how coming from the poorest part of town, this impoverished washerwoman made her way blazing trough the churches of US into international stages, led by her steely confidence and conviction. Really, Jules Schwerin, a hundred years from now, nobody will care for you and your opinions but the world will still listen Mahalia Jackson in awe.

"An Illustrated History of Gospel" by Steve Turner

Carried away with January enthusiasm, I bounced happily from the gym to a library, where I splashed on annual membership and went directly to a place with 10 000 language courses - just to decided this is all too confusing and I am perfectly fine with one book I already got. But hey, since I am already in the library, let's look around & check what do they have here. So called OBA (the Amsterdam Public Library) is a spectacularly beautiful, huge, modern building that to my eyes serves more as a community centre than as a library - its literary people everywhere working on computers, writing something or having all sorts of meetings, everything but the library and I might be the only person actually looking at the shelves. On the other hand, as a centre of knowledge and information it makes perfect sense, its just that this new, modern concept of communal space has really nothing to do with old-fashioned library where mousy, bespectacled lady would shush you down if you were too loud. Anyway, since I was already there, I browsed the books & the floors excitedly, although why exactly I can't say since my own virtual library already has more titles than I can ever read in one lifetime - since I love reading about music, I went straight for this nice, illustrated encyclopedia of Gospel music, expecting that I would find something previously unknown. 

Yes and no - its easy to read, nicely illustrated and occasionally even written with nice insight, sweeping trough the decades from slavery days until present time. So far, so good. But to be honest, there is nothing here that I didn't know before or could not find on Wikipedia. Out of curiosity, I occasionally dipped my toes in Gospel music and sometimes even discovered sensational artists - we are talking about Afro-American tradition, apparently there is also another side of medal which I still have to discover and I am just vaguely familiar trough some country gospel albums - this time, this particular book pointed me in direction of Andraé Crouch whom I never encountered before and enjoyed instantly. Actually, if you ask me about Gospel music I would probably rattle of the earliest names like The Fisk Jubilee Singers, Arizona Dranes, Marian Anderson and Paul Robinson, than finishing with Sister Rosetta Tharpe and Mahalia Jackson (and Staples Singers) - this is definitely more than any of my acquaintances would know, but still shows that I am stuck in early era and had no idea what was happening afterwards. That is why this book was helpful because it pointed at some names previously unknown to me. Allegedly the link between commercial soul, gospel and funk, Andraé Crouch instantly appealed to me and I thought he was brilliant - so much that I am listening his complete discography for days now. So far I have heard all the albums he created with his backing group The Disciples and it kind of sounds like combination between 1970s Stevie Wonder and The Fifth Dimension, with added Gospel lyrics which is completely fine by me as I always welcome any variation instead of tired old moon/June cliche. I must say that music recorded by Crouch and his guys really works for me big time - I just love that sound and vocal harmonies are spectacular - naturally I went on with other artists, mainly focused on 1950s recording company Savoy but so far nothing really moved me as much as Andraé Crouch. Mind you, I am at this point still in 1970s so I still have to hear artists who came later. Good introduction! 

Small gripes: I love Ma Rainey but she don't belong on the book cover here. And when talking about black gospel singers who moved to UK and made a career there, author confuses some names and claims Madeline Bell sung "Gimme Shelter" for The Rolling Stones. No, it was completely another person, Merry Clayton who screamed "Rape, murder!" - otherwise finely written and researched book, but this makes one wonder how true the other facts are. 

"You Are What You Read" by Jodie Jackson

My first book in 2020. - I have encountered a serious problems reading-wise, as I became aware that Internet doodling completely replaced my lifelong passion for reading. 

In a way it is not really surprising because for many, many years I worked on a ships where I actually had no Wi Fi connection (there was, but it was too expensive and pointlessly slow) so I just kept on reading books with greatest pleasure - once I settled on land, Internet browsing became my preferable way of chilling out and somehow books seem to demand much more attention. I said to myself that this is just temporary but in fact, without paying attention, I almost stopped reading books all together. Handful of titles in 2019. can't compete with what I used to read before. And it is not about numbers - I couldn't care less if you count hundreds of titles, since I can also cheat and count short stories and cartoons if we start competition - but about quality, mostly from everything I read annually, there will be really just a dozen of really good choices. Well, I need to get back on the track so with a little bit more discipline I might return to the books again.

I was attracted to this title because it sounds very topic - we are bombarded with all sorts of news online these days and 90% of them are incredibly negative, therefore they create anxiety, anger, frustration and even numbness at certain point - after a while we actually can't hear about Australia burning, Brexit or US politics anymore - so I was looking for some insight of how the newspapers work and why they focus so exclusively on negativity. It turns out, guess what, negativity sells. No one cares for positive news. There is something in human nature that thrives on bad news and curiosity, it is scientifically proved. 

Some insights from this book:

"The simplest distinction between perception and reality is that reality is something that exists objectively and is untouched by human experience, whereas perception is an individual’s interpretation of that reality, or how we think about a situation."

Before the news are published there are several gatekeepers:

" - The person or people who see the news happen

  - The reporter who talks to the initial source(s)

  - The editor, who receives the story and decides to cut, add, change or leave as is.

  - The aggregated broadcast channels.

 - If the story goes overseas, further gatekeepers will decide if it is worthy of their time, regardless of whether it is broadcast or print."

"If we believe that the world can get better and we believe that we are able to make a difference, we will persist in the face of problems rather than simply accepting them."

"A common informational hazard is that the news tends to report more on the extraordinary rather than the ordinary. The psychological paradox of this is that the more we hear about the odd and the extraordinary, the more it starts to seem normal and ordinary."    

"Dark Waters" by Todd Haynes (2019)

Where international critics are falling over themselves to praise originality, wit and genius of South Korean cartoonish class divide drama (which I hated passionately), I heard absolutely nobody mention "Dark Waters" which came to my attention thanks to good, old fashioned trailer and its probably not exotic enough for critics to praise - after all, why even bothering with something topic, when we can write essays about brilliance of movie directors from Inner Mongolia and Eastern Islands. Well, I disliked "Parasite" very much and needed something to rekindle my love for cinema, so off I went to see "Dark Waters" in the very same week. Being cynical even to myself, I was prepared that I might like this movie simply because the narrative, style and acting that comes from the West might be closer to my sensibility - no matter how many clichés Hollywood throws at me, at least I can recognise the allusions and appreciate the references. 

To my biggest surprise, it wasn't bad at all - to be honest, the audience was actually spellbound all trough the movie - either the Dutch audience is very polite (which they are) or the movie was genuinely gripping, but there was something about the subject and the acting that crossed over mere entertainment and entered the thought-provoking area, which exactly was the point. After all, the main actor Mark Ruffalo believed in this so much that he took a role as one of the producers behind this project. The subject itself is a mother of all conspiracy theories, them-against-us in this case big moneyed companies against little ordinary man on the street. Ruffalo is a lawyer somehow shoehorned into accepting ungrateful task to fight for a little man, with conglomerate mammoth on the other side. Remember Teflon? Ultra-modern material so irreplaceable in the kitchens? The one that turned out to be actually very harmful and carcenogene? Well, this is a story about how one man (in real life, lawyer Robert Bilott) fought tooth and nail against one of the world's largest corporations DuPont who had power, finances and prestige to sweep this unfortunate fact under the rug for decades. Make no mistake, people in DuPont knew that this is very harmful material (something called PFOA and maddeningly difficult to find, until Ruffalo discovers its chemical substance initially used as colour for tanks) - without going on too much into the plot, I can only say that the audience was deadly silent and focused all the way trough and we all left the cinema wondering what other chemicals we encounter on daily basis and is it actually possible at all to avoid the contamination? Of course, the movie stays with you for days and I found myself checking the facts on the internet long after I have seen the movie - it is thought provoking in the best sense, because its something that I couldn't shake off and just right now discovered that PFOA can still be found in microwave Popcorn for example. Than again, everything from the air that we breath to the water we drink is probably contaminated one way or the other, unless one lives in some far away mountains completely cut out from civilisation so tumours and cancers are our destiny until science finds out more about it. My feeling about the future of this planet and human race is very bleak and I am almost sure it will be all polluted, industrialised and future generations will fight wars over clean water and fresh air. 

"Parasite" by Bong Joon-ho (2019)

This South Korean movie was so highly praised everywhere that I got really curious - even more so, when initially I couldn't even get the tickets - the avalanche of international awards and six Oscar nominations convinced me even more that this is something I should definitely not miss. While browsing the reviews, I was very careful to read just opinions but absolutely nothing about the plot, because I wanted to enter the cinema like Tabula Rasa and enjoy it without any previous knowledge. Now, I must admit that Asian cinema is for the most part another planet for me - besides giant Akira Kurosawa and completely random but unforgettable black & white "Kuroneko" (1968) I hardly remember seeing anything that I truly enjoyed, partly because in this part of the world this work is less promoted than for example US or European cinematography. Yes, there was occasional Bruce Lee or Japanese horror but if you ask me, I would say "Rashomon" and Japanese horror "Ring" (which was chilling, must admit) - still have to see classic "Tokyo Story". So I went to cinema excited, curious and ready to be blown away - after all, it was a hit on Cannes Film Festival and reviews always insist its on top of "The Best of 2019" lists. Coming from non-English speaking territory, I am all for international cinema and very supportive of various voices from all over the world - in fact, celebrated Mexican "Roma" is still one of my all-time favourites and I genuinely think its one of the best things I have ever seen, right next to famous classics. 

Imagine my surprise when immediately I was struck with cartoonish vibe - just like Japanese "Tampopo" (1985) that I saw on insistence of a friend and which turned out to be grotesque over-acting, unfunny and bizarre, actors in this South Korean movie were all bent on making faces, screaming and lifting their eyebrows in the most kabuki-like way (good guys are smiling, bad guys are wearing a moustache). From there it was all downhill for me - so much that I even asked myself is something wrong with me, am I perhaps in a bad mood or preoccupied with my own life so I can't focus on the screen but no if I really enjoy the movie (like I did with "Roma") I have no time to analyse and wonder, if something moves me than I am swept away with the power of it. Unfortunately, the most charitable comment in this case would be - I chuckled occasionally, but for the most part of it I was annoyed. And the only explanation for this is that perhaps I am not used to Asian cinema where the concept of realistic acting seems to be completely alien phenomenon and every message has to be drilled in the viewer's brain without any subtlety. Between all this screaming, shouting and exaggeration there as a story about the class divide, cunning ordinary men (from the gutter) infiltrating wealthy household and taking their revenge but for the life of me I can't say that i enjoyed it, in fact I even started to look at my watch to check when is this darn thing going to finish eventually. What started as dark comedy turns slowly into somber and gloomy drama so I left the cinema not enthralled or happy or excited as with "Roma" but exhausted and worrying what's wrong with me, disliking film that everybody praises. 

A few thoughts:

They say that cinema is international language but perhaps Asian cinema is still too distant for me - making faces, screaming, shouting and gobbling noodles all the time is not something I had encounter in a real life. I travelled trough Far East and people I had encountered were mostly very polite & reserved so this cinematic exaggeration is obviously not realistic but designed as a parody. 

The idea of "good poor" and "stupid rich" is way too simplistic for me to accept. Yeah, I know, its a comedy but still, the poor family was just nasty and lazy, in fact makes you wonder who is Parasite from the title - living in their squalor, they couldn't even fold the pizza boxes properly to earn at least some money (but the director is quick to point how smart and witty they are) and for the rest of the movie they are secretly stealing from their wealthy employers, portrayed as stupid and gullible. Well, no - I find the poor family nasty, greedy and disliked them immensely. Couldn't side with them as anti-heroes. 

The movie goes more than two hours and its draining. At some points its at least amusing and I chuckled here and there, but last half an hour I honestly couldn't wait to get out of there. It really presents a problem for me because I don't like to feel like a prisoner in the cinema and I had the same thing with latest Tarantino. My impression is that critics and reviews are jumping on a bandwagon and praising something exotic because its a thing to do - hey, lets praise the latest movie from Timbuktu and show our superiority by comparing director Choo Choo to director Oompa Oompa and Hee Haw. True, Parasite" is very dense & full of ideas & obviously multi-layered and carefully planned but it left me completely unmoved and curiously distant - in fact, I was actually relieved to finally leave the cinema. Too cartoonish for my taste. 

Hermitage again

I have probably mention this before, but Amsterdam has a Hermitage as well - it is a satellite from the big mama in St. Petersburg and its situated in a awesome, imposing building right in the heart of the city - for centuries this building was old people's home until the institution moved elsewhere and the city gave the spot to local version of Russian collection - the exhibitions change every six months or so and I always try to check them out - I have also visited the real thing in St. Petersburg, which was a bit too crowded for my taste. Not that anybody asks me, but in my opinion Hermitage was just too much - where in New York's Met I loved seeing opulence, in St. Petersburg it just struck me as vulgar and showy - at one point I just had enough and galloped trough the rest of the palace to see darn Caravaggio - another, quieter museum nearby was less crowded and I enjoyed it much, much more.

Anyway, there is a new exhibition in local Hermitage and off I went to check it out. The current exhibition is called "Jewels! The Glitter of the Russian Court" and as usual it attracts enormous audience and commands high prices. Its advertised as profusion of richly decorated gowns and ensembles once worn by the highest echelons at the Russian court. Now, either I have seen too many of these exhibitions or I got saturated with too much knowledge about Russian history but for the first time I looked at this a bit cynically and clear-eyed. This wasn't art. In fact, it wasn't even lesson in history. Looking at the crowd around me - mostly retired Dutch pensioners, silver haired ladies and alike - I saw people admiring and gawking at decorative objects that once belonged to wealthy aristocrats - in other words, current local bourgeoisie soaking in the refined air of Russian court. Bowing to Mammon. Admiring the idea of wealth. Make no mistake, this was not about art or history - dresses, fans and silk shoes that once belonged to countess this or baroness that were not art. If anything, they were stolen from private collections once the real owners were butchered, let's get real. Decorative artifacts displayed in glass cabinets were perhaps pretty but also not art - all sorts of knick-knacks decorated with pearls, rubies and emeralds - exquisitely designed, for sure and great craftsmanship by some of the most famous houses like Cartier and Fabergé but from today's perspective quite ostentatious - jokingly I described the bunch as bottle openers covered in gemstones and basically this is what they were, showy pieces designed to impress the visitors with their owner's wealth, look I can afford to have a comb or toothpick or ashtray decorated with diamonds. Same for jewellery - today we appreciate discreet designs and its all about colour & quality of the stones, not about the size of the rocks. For some reason I didn't really care for this exhibition and mainly it was because it was focused on The Glitter of the Russian Court  - something I have seen many, many times and at this point found it tedious (I mean, are we bowing to royalty here?). No art, no history, just a collection of gold-encrusted salt shakers. Old ladies swooning but me strangely detached. 

One interesting thing were portraits - I mainly just glanced at dresses, feathers, silk shoes and display of peacockokery but the portraits were real deal and some of them actually displayed the owners of these objects. Since I have professional background in gemstones and Russian history, I recognised some of the people on the wall and in fact I do remember seeing the very same portrait of queen mother (previously young princess Dagmar of Denmark, who survived the revolution and died in Denmark) back in Russia. I wanted to explain to my friend who she was and out of me poured the whole story about Romanovs - he was flabbergasted and I was amused that I still possess such encyclopedic knowledge of Romanovs after all this time. There was also a excellent portrait of Italian architect who designed Winter Palace and best of all, a portrait of some young prince (Prince Alexander Mikhailovich Gorchakov) which was sensational and worth admission of the ticket alone, I absolutely loved that portrait and must found out more about its creator. 

Welcome to roaring twenties

And so, here we are in the 1920s (all over again)!

I have skipped the whole month of December - not because my life is boring and there is nothing to write about, but to a contrary, because there was simply too much going on - I have moved the address (again) and in addition to my regular job I also juggle language courses, gym and whatnot - sometimes there are so many things going on that I hardly have time to reflect, however I did came back to my regular old-fashioned diary so that is a welcome return to tradition and I am very pleased with it, because it is a helpful and very therapeutic habit. I was planning to write about things even back in December - movies, music etc. - but got distracted so here we are, new year & new beginning. On the last day of 2019 I noted how everything that I wanted eventually comes true but it just takes some time and patience, basically it was a very good year for me except that I still haven't completely fix the housing issue but oh well, it will happen when it has to happen. 

And now onwards with the latest movie or should I say the first movie of 2020:

"1917" by Sam Mendes

Under normal circumstances I would never go to cinema to watch war movie, since I was in war myself and don't find it thrilling or entertaining - however, at this point I am distanced from that experience enough to sit back and enjoy the fictional movie without being traumatised. The reviews were excellent, trailer looked great and I was ready to visit cinema, so off I went with a friend in tow (who, as usual, was innocent victim and had no idea where I am taking him). It turned out very solid movie - I would even say gripping - about WW1 and all those fresh-faced boys in trenches. Both Dean-Charles Chapman and Richard Madden come from "Game of Thrones" universe so that was fun to see two worlds colliding, but there were also other famous actors involved like Colin Firth, Benedict Cumberbatch and Mark Strong. (No ladies in sight, as this is a frontline war movie and when one comes along, she is more a symbol than real character) The story actually happened and it was told to a director by his grandfather who lived trough this: he was sent across the fields to warn the Battalion of the Devonshire Regiment not to attack retreating Germans because that was a trap set to annihilate them. In real life it was director's grandfather Alfred Mendes but in the movie the story is divided between two boys (Tom Blake and Will Schofield) who got a unenviable task to go across the deserted and utterly destroyed area (no man's land) to warn fellow soldiers about potential danger. It looks and feels very much like Odyssey because boys go from one adventure to another + technically it is a feat of cinematography to present everything in a smooth, never-ending continuous shot. It has been done before but its still a interesting idea and I must say the audience was spellbound to the very end. Perhaps the middle part of the movie slows down a bit but on the other hand it is a welcome rest between two major chapters - and even this middle part looks fantastic, with town in ruins lightened only by hand flares. As expected, I cried my eyes out and left the cinema feeling completely cathartic - it was a great movie and definitely one to watch in the cinema because it would be a pity to see it at home, it really deserves big screen.