More young Tina Turner photos

I might live to be a hundred but I will still get a kick out of enjoying photographs of Tina Turner.

Not so much those after her spectacular comeback in 1980s, because I was there and remember it too well but I just love her pictures from earlier times when she was still earthy, feisty and hungry for success. On these pictures she embodies the female strength, like some mythical Amazon Queen and I simply have to decorate my blog with them. 

"So Fine" by Ike & Tina Turner (1968)

And just like that, like Phil Spector and his "wall of sound" never happened, Ike Turner continued hustling around, this time securing contract with recording company from Dallas where they released his next project titled "So Fine". In his defence, we must admit that majestic and now very much revered "River Deep, Mountain High" was in fact completely rejected and ignored at home - it is easy to be a critic after the fact and to worship the record now, but back in the day homegrown music industry did not embrace it. At all. In fact it sunk without a trace, dragging Spector along with it. That Europe celebrated it so wildly must have been mind-boggling but also highly useful to couple who found enthusiastic audience in another part of the world. 

"So Fine" is basically what Ike was doing all the time trough 1960s with various degree of success - endlessly re-hashing and re-recording his older recordings with different arrangements, tweaking with novelties and working his band hard in order to keep afloat. My impression is, until he actually opened his own recording studio, recordings were not so important to him - the bread and butter were live performances, therefore all these singles were contractual obligations. What makes "So Fine" mildly interesting is that besides Ike and 101 version of "A Fool In Love", singer-songwriter Bonny Rice joins for collaborations and he was actually not half-bad (this is the guy who wrote "Mustang Sally", "Respect Yourself" etc) - the whole album has a very interesting, soulful and steamy atmosphere but suffers from lack of interesting material. You know all those stories when people say "oh you know, she would never achieved anything if it wasn't for him"  - well, here is a perfect example how did it work with Ike at the helm. He was iron-fisted bandleader with first-rate talents around him, but his ideas were very much generic and he was repeating himself. The only interesting things here were "Shake A Tail Feather", "So Fine" and "You're So Fine",  all of them covers of original hits by other people. Actually some of these were big hits during previous decade so it comes as Ike's idea of updating older R&B sound to current times. Really, according to him, the band was just cruising nowhere and its interesting he never admitted to himself that all his success is because of his wife, who also happened to be magnificent and charismatic vocalist - Tina on the other hand, sounds committed as ever, incapable to deliver anything but 100% no matter what it is. As the final result, the album actually sounds better and more coherent than many of their 1960s pre-Spector releases. It is forgotten and obscured by their other work but definitely worth searching, even if it has absolutely no hits. The way Ikettes and Tina harmonise in a title song is quite something.

Isolation continues

Isolation continues even though I have recovered a month ago and probably I am not contagious anymore - at this point I am isolated for the sheer fact that there is no work, nowhere to go and nobody around. So I live like Count Dracula alone in a deserted castle, but recently there was a nice surprise that lifted my spirits somehow - the toy company that created my never-forgotten Teddy Bear had finally replied to my inquiry and sent me a gift package with two of his brothers. Since the original model is not available anymore, they asked me which one I would like, I decided both and they were gift. I waited for this package since February so when it finally arrived I was giddy with happiness. 

With all this time on my hands, I decided there is nothing that I must do.

Initially, I surrounded myself with books and movies but eventually it dawned on me that I actually don't want to be under pressure that I have to do something. I am perfectly capable of enjoying my day without fulfilling a plan of task and "things to do". Initially I was busy with a work in the backyard and now came to the point where I did as much as I could. Than I started taking long walks. For some time I had a plan that "in the Spring" I will slowly go for walks and discover the city on foot - well, it is a beautiful Spring and really I have all the time in the world, so I decided I might as well do it now - I know the center very well but not so familiar with anything out of the center. So completely spontaneously (because that is the only way) I took a walk one day up this street, just to see where will lead me and ended up on top of the city, it ended up a wonderful walk and I was delighted with all the discoveries. 

Yesterday another walk, same street but this time in opposite direction - again, I went all the way somewhere I have never been before and enjoyed a quiet walk around the canals - must admit that without all the traffic and people, the city actually looks absolutely beautiful. There were some people around, but on a safe distance and nothing alarming. I took several nice photographs and truly enjoyed this, whenever weather permits I will do it again. 

"Meri" by Meri Cetinić (1979)

Alone in her quiet corner, Meri Cetinić grew into quite original and unusual presence on Croatian pop scene, a female singer/songwriter with a distinctive sound and quite formidable talent that makes her our own version of Carole King. Curiously, she is one of the many refugees from the immensely important band "More" that served as a hotbed for the future pop stars, but unlike the rest of them, Cetinić was actually capable of writing her own, first-class material - it comes as a surprise that she didn't write more for other artists and even more so to realise that with all that catalogue, her biggest hits were actually written by other people. While her albums were mostly self-penned, it was left to Zdenko Runjić and Đorđe Novković to actually create genuine smash hits like "Samo Simpatija", "Lastavica" or "Četiri stađuna". 

Cetinić was the main vocal on the famous 1974 album "More" and it was just a matter of time before she will try to spread her wings as a solo artist - those first few singles were interesting but frankly nothing special, however the 1979. album was genuine surprise and it signalled the arrival of fully formed solo artist. Like majority of her work, it was recorded in the private studio of her brother Ante Cetinić (in the Netherlands) and this is perhaps explanation why music sounds far more current and modern than most of our releases at the time - while Meri herself leans towards weeping piano ballads, there are enough genuine joyful, disco moments here to lift the whole collection on the different level. It also points at interesting gulf between artist's true inclinations: left to her own devices, Meri might be too sentimental and downhearted, but every now and than its as someone pointed her at other direction and than she delivers gems. Upbeat part of her debut is classic now, however perhaps the most interesting song here is her own "Živim S Tobom" that was already previously recorded by redoubtable Gabi Novak and as a obvious commercial hook, album also have previous year's superhit "Samo Simpatija" recorded when singer was still part of "More" - it is a credit to producer that he managed to make it a perfect fit with the rest of the album. 

"Budi uvijek blizu" by Novi Fosili (1981)

Re-visiting the old childhood favourite is funny business, because its impossible to hear it again without connecting it to a particular time, atmosphere, smells and places - inevitably, we might rate it higher than it might realistically deserve, simply for the effect it has on us. Was it actually great or we love it for what it means to us? This album is a good example - in its day it was hugely popular and it practically never left my crappy record player but listening it today, with my heart recognising every single note, I simply can't be objective. Have not heard it in decades and here am I, almost 40 years later, memories just pouring down of the life left behind and people who are not here anymore. 

Budi uvijek blizu" might be a pinnacle of band Novi Fosili as far as I am concerned. Initially, the first incarnation soldiered more or less hit-less trough 1970s until re-shuffling and addition of new members kicked in and they became unstoppable, kind of Croatian "Abba" with a huge family appeal. Guys were all decent singers but it was female singer Đurđica Barlović who gave them that special ingredient, recognisable tone that worked so well with the rest of the group - listening it today, I am much more aware of clever harmonies and how each of them shared the spotlight for a while, until they all sang together. This line-up was riding their biggest wave of success when "Budi uvijek blizu" was released and indeed, although they will continue forever, never again they will have so many classic pop hits at once - composer/vocalist Rajko Dujmić must have been in some state of white-hot inspiration because here we have "Plava Košulja", "Tonka", "Ključ Je Ispod Otirača"  and naturally, huge radio hit "Saša" all fresh on one album. Sure, its all a clean, good natured, mainstream pop designed to appeal to the whole family and as such, it was darn brilliant - not a wrong note here, even fillers were great and we also got a sequel to a song from previous album (characters from "Li-La-Lo" continue their story in "Joj, Joj"). Today its almost impossible to comprehend this was actually not a compilation but a fresh, new release - it is a perfect pop album of its time and place. 

"A Bad Woman Feeling Good" by Buzzy Jackson (2005)

One good thing about this whole Corona business is that suddenly lots of things are available free online, including public library called "Open Library" where I found some titles that I wanted to read for a long time. So although I just finished one massive tome about music (not to mention that I have also many other books around the house - my own, borrowed from the library, what friends gave me) here I go reading about music again, unrepentantly. It might be predictable in a way, because obviously I do circle around certain subjects more or less, but it makes me happy so what. After this, perhaps I switch to something else.

Initially I thought that "A Bad Woman Feeling Good: Blues and the Women Who Sing Them" will be lightweight - judging the book by its gaudy cover, I expected something else completely but the writing style is actually quite serious and thoughtful. As expected, its analysis of women musicians who were pioneers one way or the other, starting with earliest Blues artists and what is the most surprising is that every now and than Buzzy Jackson comes with a interesting idea or a sentence where reader understands she really thought about this from various perspectives. I have read a tons of books about music and too often authors are either lost in a discography or blinded by the  inconsequential  gossip - not Jackson, who seriously approaches these lives with a respect and curiosity. Than again, it shows how far we traveled from the earlier music literature, where instead of slim fan booklet with nice pictures, nowadays we expect that author understand socio-political circumstances and atmosphere of the times. 

To illustrate how books differs from so many similar titles, it does not start with obvious - first Blues recording, Mamie Smith and "Crazy Blues" that got the ball rolling but with an undocumented (and to my knowledge unrecorded) artist who worked even before that, a certain Mamie Desdoumes who played piano around the bars of infamous red-light district Storyville in New Orleans. Way, way before other musicians could have been recorded, Desdoumes worked her way trough bordellos and bars, banging the piano long in the night with her hands from which two fingers were cut off. Apparently she was very good musician and no less than Jelly Roll Morton spoke very highly of her. From here we move on to 1920s Blues Queens, than swinging 1930s and right now I am reading about long twilight of Lady Day, where Jackson understands perhaps why was this celebrated and successful artists turning to drugs - "it calmed her nerves before performances and allowed her an emotional distance that afforded some relief from the chaos of her insecure financial situation, odd hours and abusive relationships."  Where so many other authors focused on Gardenias, this one actually understands why Lady chose this path.

Unfortunately, author lost the steam somewhere halfway trough - by trying to shoehorn later artists in the same Blues format, the book just evaporates somewhere along the way. Even if later generations of women like Etta James, Tina Turner or Janis Joplin had some connection with Blues, going so far to insist that Joni Mitchell or Madonna are actually spiritual descendants of earlier Blues queens was just too ambitious - they had to cut their own path in a world, but so does everybody. First part of the book was excellent, it lost me later, unfortunately. 

"A Biographical Guide to the Great Jazz and Pop Singers" by Will Friedwald (2010)

If there is ever a literary Mount Rushmore, with writers who covered popular music of the 20th century, Will Friedwald is there right next to Garry Giddins, Peter Guralnick and few others. While the rest of the gentlemen might be better storytellers, Friedwald will always be my favourite, as his writing voice makes him by far the ultimate music geek, someone who lives for discussion about old records and is ready to fight if you dare to disagree that this arrangements of "Stardust" is better than the other. Recognising the kindred spirit somewhere out there on the other side of the world, I embrace Friedwald as my brother in spirit and love his writing - in fact, I poured over his "Jazz Singing: America's Great Voices From Bessie Smith To Bebop And Beyond" more than anything else I have read in my entire life.

"A Biographical Guide to the Great Jazz and Pop Singers"  is actually two books in one: the majority of the book is a music encyclopaedia that more or less covers the same artists previously discussed in "Jazz Singing" with addition of several names that Friedwald dismissed the first time around. Not sure is he mellowing with the age or what, but now he actually finds something positive to say about the very same people who he killed back in the first book. Divided between "individual artists" (part one) and "multiple artists" (part two) the book actually picks up in the second part - just like in Jazz Singing" , Friedwald's strength seems to be in discussing and comparing multiple artists, rather than going on forever about one person and his complete discography. Personally, I was kind of bored in the first part but delighted with second part of the book, where author catches the old fire again and is humorous, witty, funny and delightful as before. Where else will you find all these mad anecdotes (Andy Williams dubbing for Lauren Bacall?) and the author clearly loves his work, when Friedwald is on fire, its contagious.

Yeah, he can be predictable - but if you read him before, you know what to expect: he loves everything recorded before Rock music came along and VERY grudgingly will tolerate any "outsiders" or "intruders" who dare to touch American Songbook. Commercial success be damned, Friedwald is a music critic and way above these pedestrian concerns - astutely, he understands that "hits" are not necessarily artist's best work and discusses this contrast. I also found out that in the very beginning of recording business, music stars were unwilling to record because radio was mainly "live" medium and artists were supposed to perform live (today we find recordings absolutely necessary to promote music). The book is absolutely a treasure trove of fascinating insights, discussions and Friedwald's observations that sometimes charmingly stray from the subject. This time I didn't find it as essential as "Jazz Singing" but for the sheer volume, ambition and greatness, its very close to it. 

"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.