“A Night at the Louvre: Leonardo da Vinci” by Pierre-Hubert Martin (2020)

This documentary was created in honour of 500-year anniversary of the death of Leonardo da Vinci and its quite spectacular stroll trough the empty halls of Louvre, narrated by two curators who carefully discuss each piece of art.

Since I have cinema card membership with unlimited access to cinema, I decided to use it more frequently and instead of asking around who wants to come with me, I decided what the hell, I'll just go on my own. First thing, a documentary that intrigued me for some time already. It was showing as matinee in my favourite cinema, so I didn't mind waking up, dressing up and walking trough the rainy streets, somehow expecting there will be nobody except me - WRONG - cinema was full of little old ladies who seems to all know each other and suddenly I start suspecting what is going on here, what does this say about me. 

As expected, documentary was visually stunning. I have never been to Louvre so this was like a dream come true, to see camera slowly circling around Louvre Pyramid, than approaching the stairway where on the top there is a winged Nike of Samothrace - and than we hear the voices gently reminding us that museum will close soon and all the visitors are expected to depart. A glance trough empty halls, than the lights go off, one by one. Finally all this beauty rests from the inquisitive eyes. And here is where our documentary starts. Two curators are slowly walking trough the collection of Da Vinci works, explaining what it is, how it came to be, etc. 

This is also where I fell asleep. Not because the subject was boring (though, more about it later) but because the walk trough empty and cold, wet streets was a bit exhausting and suddenly I was so comfortable and warm inside the cinema. Eventually I did woke up and started to pay attention to what curators had to say. Both Vincent Delieuvin and Louis Frank were carefully describing what we see, how it came to be and all that Jazz but at one point I started having this strange feeling that this is just lots of empty talk. One can't rationalise art and explain how the process of creation came to be. Da Vinci lived in a completely different world, very different from ours and his reality was so much unlike ours that we simply can't possibly explain how or why this particular piece of art was created. Even if we know what he ate for breakfast, it still don't explain how come he sketched those beautiful, androgynous faces, what went trough his mind. This, I believe is our basic problem with trying to explain or rationalise art - we should just admire it for what it is and what it stir inside of us, how it touches our souls across the centuries (which is quite something), not pointing at the technical details or whatnot, because frankly, its just a guesswork and lots of empty talk - sometimes people work with what they have, out of sheer necessity or laziness, or because they couldn't get the other tools. My main problem with all the monologues these two young men kept on and on, was that Leonardo is such a mystery for us - 500 years is a long time and from our perspective he might as well come from another planet - we can't possibly know what went on trough his mind and his dreams (nightmares?), what were his views on the religion (one of the major points at the time), where he saw the faces that inspired him, what appeal or repelled him, in short we can't possibly explain anything about a person who died five centuries ago. We have these spectacular pieces of art (I think that I recognised some sketches that were apparently done as preparation for the paintings) and they are still here, immortal in their beauty but why not focusing on how exquisite they are instead of trying to explain and rationalise what went on behind the process of creation. Loved seeing Louvre in all this glory and beauty, I seriously started considering visiting my own Rijksmuseum early one morning while the visitors are still rare. 

"Shirley" by Josephine Decker (2020)

After watching this movie, I left the cinema convinced more than ever that biopics are bad idea. What purpose do they serve except giving a completely twisted, distorted and simplified version of person's lives - often filtered trough director's perspective and more attention has been focused on a crazy camera angles, sound and lighting than to a simple fact is this actually at least close to the truth. Take Shirley Jackson - a brilliant but now forgotten American novelist who is remembered for her two quintessential horror masterpieces "The Haunting of Hill House" and "We Have Always Lived in the Castle". (A friend of mine claims she is not forgotten and is very well known - besides me, this is the only person I ever heard mentioning Jackson) Jackson died more than 50 years ago, her children are now old people and grandparents themselves. Almost nothing is know about her - writers are notoriously private creatures - but if carefully looking over the old photographs and her writings, we can get impression of a witty person with a wicked sense of humour who was also carrying a burden of family, motherhood (she was raising four children) and writing career. Probably spread too thin on various sides, Jackson was a wife during 1950s when bread winners were husbands - it was socially accepted that women will stay at home with the family and act the part. By all accounts, Jackson didn't really fit into this Stepford mentality and not only that she was actually earning more money & publicity than her husband, she was very probably ostracised as author of disturbing fiction - not your typical white gloves Sunday Tea lady - and as a result of too much smoking, drinking and everything, she died at the age of 48. Had she lived longer, she would see the emergence of feminism and might have been celebrated as ice breaking author, unfortunately it seems life was not fair to her. 

Now, how to make a movie about somebody half-forgotten as Shirley Jackson? Director Josephine Decker goes for book "Shirley" by Susan Scarf Merrell, which is a interesting but completely fictional story that uses names of real people (Jackson and her husband) and than goes into wild speculation what went on behind closed doors. Inspired by Jackson's writing, the book imagines that she might have half-mad herself and waves a plot not unlike "Who's Afraid of Virginia Wolf?" where older couple sadistically manipulates younger for the sheer sake of gleeful fun. As biopic, movie could go to completely different direction and perhaps go for a unconventional woman who was trying to keep her head above the water in conservative 1950s society - instead, we get a complete fiction with hallucinatory and disorienting scenes, where half of the movie feels like a nightmare. As malevolent couple, both Elisabeth Moss and Michael Stuhlbarg are excellent, but I couldn't help thinking how this is a very good showcase for acting skills - there is lot of head shaking, twitching, falling on the floor, yelling and everything one would expect from a complete lunatic who happens to also be a famous writer. Artistic creativity is explained as possession, where Jackson furiously writes (and throws discarded pages on the floor) and has to be forced to dress up for dinner downstairs. Husband is evil manipulator who guides her for the sake of financial success but is very probably a philanderer. For the sake of the story, there is a young couple invited as a live-in help (fictional Rose and Fred) who are helpless victims of older couple's mind games - sometimes you even wonder are they real or just a clever reflection of Shirley and her husband - what bothered me is that there was not a single positive character in the whole movie, all four of them are like Chess figures, all of them have their own agenda and secret reasons - when Jackson and her husband finally got tired of young couple, they just dump them. 

OK so this is a completely fictional account of something that never happened. Its a psychological drama that simply uses names of the people who actually lived. You could simply use names like Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain, Alfred Hitler and Eva Braun, Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers - it does not matter because its fictional and used simply for the sake of entertainment. But its presented as a biopic. And this is what upset me. I am a reader and have my own opinion of Shirley Jackson - she was a genius, very, very talented lady who lived in different times. I even like the way she looked, obviously interesting and unconventional person who didn't fit into white glove expectations of ladies who lunch. the movie portrays her as a madwoman from the attic, manipulated by evil husband and there is absolutely no reason why these two people even live together - in the movie they are childless, he simply needs a live-in help to cope with a wife who don't want to get up from the bed. In reality Shirley Jackson raised four children. I mean, hey, what is going on in here? Why even using these names? Thousand of people will leave the cinema believing Shirley Jackson was some epileptic who was constantly rolling on the floor and hallucinating. Please, if you create a biopic, at least approach it with respect and do not make Twin Peaks out of someone's life. It really makes me question the whole idea of biopics and the entertainment value of "artistic vision" that convinces audience that Sharon Tate lived happily ever after and Shirley Jackson was in fact a madwoman. 

"The Adventures of Robin Hood" by Michael Curtiz (1938)

The reality around me is so gloomy that it takes superhuman efforts to stay positive and find some beauty, joy and comfort in everyday life. Almost everything I do these days feels as a intentional self-delusion and distraction: even my quiet walks in a favourite part of town (which I just recently discovered) feels sour because I could never live there, not even under the stairs like Harry Potter. With my finances, I could probably afford only a door handle. One side, not two. On top of Corona and political pressure, now it looks as I might stay jobless so the shadow of uncertainty looms over everything I do. In order to cheer myself up a bit, I decided to watch this old classic last night and it was a perfect choice.

I am sure that I have probably seen "The Adventures of Robin Hood" before, but curiously I don't actually have any particular memories - just a vague feeling that this is something that would have played on our black & white TV Sunday afternoon as the whole family relaxed after the lunch, a perfect family entertainment. The conviction that I know all there is to know about Robin Hood (even though its probably a myth) kept me from approaching this movie earlier and to my biggest joy, it was like I experience it for the first time.

In all honesty, it should probably be seen on a cinema screen - as originally created - because even though its made in 1938, its in a luscious Technicolor and designed to impress the audiences with a complete package - not only it has great, fun story but spectacular costumes, actors, colours and sword fights. If I ever have a family, my children would watch this on a Sunday afternoon, its the kind of innocent, clean entertainment everybody should aspire to. Not a trace of sarcasm, irony or a double entendre - it feels as a movie some seven year old would enjoy with a pure heart. From the start we know who is good and who is bad, in its simplicity it almost feels like Disney - but Disney would come to this subject decades later, this is the real thing.

At this point I won't go into a story - often told and filmed as cinematic success even before this version, with earlier Douglas Fairbanks as Sir Robin of Locksley - it took some courage from Warner Bros to dare bringing such an old warhorse to the screen again but they actually went full blast, with a sensational production, the best tools in the business and created a cinematic extravaganza that blew all the other similar movies out of the water. They saved no expense on big production, best actors, scenery, stunt men, sword fighting instructors and even got Erich Wolfgang Korngold to compose music for the movie - because he was busy in Hollywood, Korngold avoided Nazi prosecution in his own Vienna and this lucky accident probably saved his life. 

My own reaction on the movie was just perfect: I needed escapism, a fantasy that would take me away from this reality and I probably couldn't select better than "The Adventures of Robin Hood" - even though I am familiar with the story, its been long enough to watch it again like for the first time and many times I bursted laughing out loud with a joy. When Robin and Lady Marian finally kiss on her balcony, I melted and sighed like a totally besotted teenage girl. I took it all without any reservations or prejudice, simply loving it for what it is - a wonderful movie classic for all ages. Came for Olivia de Havilland, stayed because I genuinely loved the movie. 

"Pinocchio" by Matteo Garrone (2019)

Well, of course, who else but Italians will come with by far the best movie version of a classic Italian children's story. Disney had a soft and gentle perspective, with lots of music and clowning but this one is million times better and closer to a spirit of the cautionary tale that "Pinocchio" basically is - because its not about hundreds of other cute Disney tricks and gimmicks but about obedience to a parents and how evil and horrible the world outside can be if you don't follow your orders and don't go to the school. If you don't do as you were told, if you escape the school and join the other stupid kids (who are obviously having fun), you will be either kidnapped, robbed or hung from a tree. Or turn into a monkey and sold to a circus. In fact, more you think of it, Carlo Collodi story has a lot in common with scary Brothers Grimm world where children are deserted in a dark forrest or evil stepmothers are made to dance to death in a cursed shoes, etc. 

So yes, occasionally its creepy but also beautiful to watch - I dare to say that this is 100% European sensitivity that is based on beautiful aesthetics with dark undertones - I was painfully aware that American director would stuff this very same story with saccharin pink clouds and cutesy details (just see what they did to "Wrinkle in Time"), never ending moralising, life affirming lessons hammered into a script and probably Oprah Winfrey somewhere or the other - not here. You get the point by watching the movie, you understand that parents love their children and children love them back without Oprah telling you so. And this is the main difference between European and American film making - it seems to me that Americans find it necessary to dumb down their scripts and literary explain everything letter by letter to their audience, where European artists don't do that. Director Matteo Garrone created very magical experience without compromising the spirit of the story at all - no need for moralising or explaining to us that Pinocchio is a bad boy. In fact, he is not bad at all, he is just not experienced and very sweet in his naivety. When The Cat and Fox swindle him for his golden coins, its not because he is a bad boy, its because he was just recently created from a piece of wood and he sweetly believes everyone. When "the bad boys" convince him to run away from the school and joins them in a magic Toyland, Pinocchio at first looks as a outsider - because he is - while the rest of the boys are screaming, running around and going wild, he is at first just shy observer - whatever happens to him, we understand that he is a good hearted boy who just falls in the troubles because of his trust. Again, in some other hands this could have been very annoying disaster but Italians did it perfectly, without going into a long monologues and explanations - we simply watch and understand this. As a piece of movie it was perfectly suitable for both children and adults - visually it was absolutely unforgettable and beautiful to watch. Excellent. 

"A Princess of Mars" by Edgar Rice Burroughs (1912)

Edgar Rice Burroughs and I share the same day of birth. My little claim to immortality.

I know him - as the rest of the world - from his "Tarzan" novels but this came a little bit later. Initially, Burroughs became famous because "A Princess of Mars" was serialised chapter by chapter in The All-Story magazine way back in 1911. and even than was printed under the title "Under the Moons of Mars". This was a young, 30-something unknown author who is just finding his footing in a publishing world and he still needs to find his style - afraid that his potential business customers might find this moonlighting trivial, he sings the novel as "Normal Bean" and of course during the printing he was misspelled as "Norman". In any case, the unusual Martian story served its purpose and Burroughs eventually became very famous - just a few years later he will be celebrated world wide because of "Tarzan" and than his Martian adventure (originally a pulp fiction) will be published as a "real" novel. 

I needed a break from exhausting and demanding "Sapiens" and intuitively knew that if I really want a good escapism, where my mind will go to completely different world and adventures, Burroughs is my man. My first contact with "Tarzan" was decades ago and not so long ago I re-visited first few novels again with greatest pleasure. It is what it is - no deep philosophy here, just a perfect - a dare to say brilliant - adventure story designed to keep a reader going on. Many current celebrated authors don't have this talent and their hefty volumes are just pretentious and pointless. I truly admire someone like Burroughs (or Willa Cather) who know how to tailor the novel in order to keep our interest and trim it down to essentials. They might be in a completely different genres but they both impressed me very much and their novels were small and slim little volumes rich with imagination and genius inside. I have been a passionate reader my whole life and never shied away from big volumes, but slowly came to appreciate economy with words and talent to entertain without becoming a nuisance. In fact, at this late stage in the game, I started selecting books by their weight. The heavy bricks simply don't appeal to me anymore and they seem as a difficult task. I am reading for a pleasure and joy of it, not because I need a door stopper.

Back to Burroughs - apparently this was one of the very first inter-planetary stories and if things appear as a cliché today, well its because they all started here. Everything from Flash Gordon to Carl Sagan was inspired by this novel and I just wonder how come that Hollywood did not milk it better than they did. The story is based on assumption that life on Mars is like some giant desert planet (and imagine, Frank Herbert is still 50 years in the future) where various warrior tribes are fighting tooth and nail amongst themselves. Our main hero is John Carter (from the description basically a twin to later Tarzan) who is strong, handsome, clever and knows how to fight - he is also somehow catapulted from planet Earth to a Mars (without too much explanation or details, he just wakes up there and you take it or leave it) and now has to find his way in a strange, new and brutal world where everything is topsy-turvy and nobody cares for such things as compassion, affections or gentleness. In fact, the tribe of Green Martians that initially caught him is much more into fights and physical strength - they couldn't care less for some soft human and accept him only after he kills a few warriors, than he is fine. From there the story really gets very interesting - in a old fashioned way, of course - there is a Mam'selle in a distress (hence the title of the novel), Carter fights and jumps and protects her across the planet. Honestly, the story meanders all over the place but Burroughs keeps it interesting - its a little bit like memoirs of Marco Polo, than little bit like some concentration camp story (because Carter is basically a prisoner most of the time), than it gets very twisted into court intrigues (Green Martian woman Sarkoja is a character straight from Byzantine Empire) - you can tell that his imagination was running wild and he was throwing everything and the kitchen sink in the story, but funny thing is - it actually worked - almost the whole idea of "Star Wars" worlds with different races and creatures is based on this novel. 

It was very, very easy read and I actually read it for the sheer joy or escapism, finished it in a few days. 

"Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind" by Yuval Noah Harari (2015)

Yay, I did it!

I will remember 2020 - amongst other things - as the year when I finished "Sapiens". Its not just that it was a mammoth book, equivalent to a Empire State building combined with Central Station (I read other, longer books in my life) but it was so much packed with informations that I found that it was impossible to read it without taking occasional break. Loved the author's style and found his way of thinking absolutely fascinating + it was not really too complicated, but the sheer scope of the subject - a history of humankind - was so huge that I just had to put it aside for awhile and than come back to it. 

Initially, I absolutely loved it. I loved the clear but enthusiastic way Harari weaves his story and how he connects the dots so cleverly, to the point that I absolutely accepted everything he said and even convinced myself "yes, exactly, I think the same". And this was not some mouldy university professor talking from a high throne but someone who (gasp) seems to be actually younger than me, kind of younger version of my beloved Carl Sagan - a passionate, erudite and enthusiastic intellectual. But after a while I needed a break from history of humankind. Than I would return to the book a month later and got lost in it again, thinking whats wrong with me, this is such an interesting book. And so on for months. It went on from February to September. I ploughed trough damn books slowly and patiently for eight months. And I refused to skip the chapters or even pages because it was really inspired and it would be pity not to soak in all this brilliance. But I was aware that because of this book I am missing countless others. 

To be honest, since I relocated to Amsterdam, something happened and I lost my lifelong passion for reading. Not sure exactly why is it so and I can blame both the stress of hand-to-mouth survival or the lure of Internet where browsing is so much easier than focusing on one particular book. I don't know why did it happen but it did and I am aware of it. I even became a member of the biggest public library in town but found myself getting more pleasure from browsing than actually reading. Reading became a task. I am reading not because I love it and its a wonderful escape from reality but because I want to force myself back into old skin and I am constantly aware "I am reading just to finish this". 

"Sapiens" is by far without any competition the best book I read this year and perhaps the only one I read with excitement - at this point I really don't care so much for fiction and this suited me perfectly, as I love to discover things and to find out about thought provoking ideas. 

But I became painfully aware that this is going very slowly and it blocks me from reading more books. Or who knows, maybe this was a incredibly slow but the only possible way for me to go back to reading? The more I think of it, more I believe this was the case - because it demanded my attention and persistence, it wasn't reading for the sake of reading but actual pleasure of finding interesting ideas and talking to my friends about them. Right now I feel as I just finished a monumental sculpture that eclipses Louvre museum and its a great feeling of achievement - Harari has more books but I can't go there just yet - for the sake of balance my next reading must be something entirely different and I have already started Edgar Rice Burroughs last night, which goes super smoothly because its a light adventure story and pure escapism. 

"Dancing with Demons" by Penny Valentine and Vicky Wickham (2000)

Dusty Springfield passed away in 1999. and the very next year her biography was published, authorised by the lady herself and written by two close friends who also happen to be music industry insiders and quite important in their own right. Both Valentine and Wickham were there in the swinging sixties, shoulder to shoulder not just with Springfield but to everybody who was part of the Ready, Steady, Go! and trans-Atlantic exchange between The British Invasion and Motown. So while in the future we might get different authors writing about Springfield, we can't get better witnesses than these two who were actually there every step of the way.

Right now I must say that I discovered Springfield relatively late - when Pet Shop Boys invited her for a spectacular duet that brought her back in the spotlight - I was too young to know her glorious 1960s days, You don't have to say you love me and Dusty in Memphis - by the time I discovered music, Springfield fell in almost complete obscurity and she became symbol of another, earlier decade. Ironically, Rita Coolidge was doing just fine singing slow-burning ballads in a intimate, breathy voice that Springfield perfected long before her. So I had to go backwards and do a little research trough her music to find out what was the fuss all about - this is now the time before Internet so all the informations were in actual books and on the records, one could not just simply click the button and check youtube. If you wanted to hear Dusty Springfield, you had to buy the CD (and hope there is one). At the radio where I worked, they didn't have one single Springfield LP in their archives and it looks as her albums were never even issued in my country. So she might have been big deal in UK but in my part of the world you couldn't find her music. 

I bought this book immediately as it was published, still weeping in my beer because Springfield just died and my annoyed girlfriend inquiring why am I so upset about somebody I have never met. Initially, I was horrified with "Dancing with Demons" and found it indiscrete, too revealing and not fair towards somebody who spent the whole life behind carefully created image. Back than, I simply didn't want to know about what was going on behind the scenes. Curiously, I have re-visited "Dancing with Demons" again, two decades later and just like I expected, this time around I didn't find it nasty at all - now I think its affectionate portrait of a person and times, written with understanding and perhaps even a bit of idolisation. Both ladies admired Springfield and it was because of this that they helped her trough thick and thin, later when she became very exhausting attention seeker who would suck the energy of people around. Basically Springfield was a huge star of the 1960s who slowly sunk into depression and oblivion in the 1970s - the second part of the book is like a Twilight Zone and although the ending is uplifting (she managed some sort of professional comeback and even personal equilibrium) the overall impression is about somebody who would probably be draining in the real life. In the right hands the story might be made into an interesting biopic movie but I am wary of presenting people as tragic figures - according to her friends, Springfield was a wonderfully funny, entertaining and lighthearted person who loved to laugh at herself and people around her, so it would be completely wrong to focus on just one part of her personality - the movie will eventually be all about melodrama, drinks, drugs and loneliness but on the other hand, it was a life in a fast lane, with a lot of great highlights and impulsive trips to Rome so she deserves to be remembered for the joy, not for the tears. 

"The Secret Garden" by Marc Munden (2020)

This turned out a beautiful surprise, just what I needed. 

Its magic is only partly due to classic children's novel by Frances Hodgson Burnett (curiously, during her lifetime it was by far eclipsed by another of her novels, "Little Lord Fauntleroy") and also due to the very capable talents of director Marc Munden and producer David Heyman (Harry Potter film series) but where it works 90% is in a beautiful outdoors location so everybody who was locked inside during Corona epidemics can finally feel the breeze and smell the flowers in a beautiful and magical secret garden. Its truly a coincidence that I went to see it, because my last cinema visit was a traumatising and heavy "La Madre" where I kind of lost appetite to watch the movies at all but since I have cinema membership, it became almost pointless why am I paying this membership with unlimited visits to cinema and not even using it, so today I forced myself to go and randomly selected this.

The story is familiar and re-told many times in different media, but it seems there is something timeless about it, so different generations grow to love "The Secret Garden" for various reasons. After both of her parents passed away, little orphan Mary is sent away to some distant relative who lives in a huge manor in England - here she discovers a secret garden that has a healing properties and it changes lives for everybody involved. This latest 2020 version uses a lot of special effects and computer animation that previous generations were not able to do - nowadays it became almost a standard routine but once upon a time people had to depend on their own creativity. There is a tiny, perceptive Disney atmosphere that balances at the edge of sacharrine (little birdies flying above Mary's head, but ultimately not really having other role in the movie) and occasionally it felt as combination of "Pan's Labyrinth" and "Rebecca" but this is now grown up me, criticising a children's movie. The real audience - kids - would not know about about this anyway.

I have approached "The Secret Garden" the way I mostly love to approach most of my movies, like a Tabula Rasa without any previous knowledge about it. In fact, I don't even remember have I ever read the novel? It could be one of the things that were never even translated in my country - otherwise I would have read it for sure. If you are raised in the Eastern Block, your literary diet depended on Eastern European authors and occasional politically correct classic. And it was a extremely hot afternoon so I escaped into cinema for some cool air - enjoyed the movie very much, it was just what a needed as escapism from the reality and even though some details were twisted and changed, I still found it all very pretty and magical. It might be a tiny bit too serious for the kids really, because it deals with grief after parents death and some very heavy subjects, but than again, its not for toddlers, I would say its for a young adults perhaps, kind of Harry Potter audiences. 

"Gibraltar. Scene During the Plague" by Letitia Elizabeth Landon (1836)

At first, I only buried one,
    And she was borne along
By kindred mourners to her grave,
    With sacred rite and song.
At first they sent for me to pray
    Beside the bed of death:
They blessed their household, and they breathed
    Prayer in their latest breath.
But then men died more rapidly—
    They had not time to pray;
And from the pillow love had smoothed
    Fear fled in haste away.
And then there came the fastened door—
    Then came the guarded street—
Friends in the distance watched for friends;
    Watched,—that they might not meet.
And Terror by the hearth stood cold,
    And rent all natural ties,
And men, upon the bed of death,
    Met only stranger eyes:
The nurse—and guard, stern, harsh, and wan
    Remained, unpitying, by;
They had known so much wretchedness,
    They did not fear to die.
Heavily rung the old church bells,
    But no one came to prayer:
The weeds were growing in the street,
    Silence and Fate were there.
O’er the first grave by which I stood,
    Tears fell, and flowers were thrown,
The last grave held six hundred lives,*
    And there I stood alone.

"Madre" by Rodrigo Sorogoyen (2019)

An innocent phone call quickly escalates into a nightmare as a Elena (Marta Nieto) realises that her little son (on vacation somewhere with a father) is left alone and scared on a beach, with nobody in sight. There is nothing she can do from a distance, as nobody knows where the boy actually is - is it Spain or France? All he can say is that he is alone on the beach, the night is falling and there is a man coming over and looking at him. "Run Ivan, run as fast as you can and hide!" is the last thing she can say before phone goes off.

The story continues ten years later - Elena now lives in France and works in a beach restaurant around exactly same area where her little boy disappeared years ago. There is a work and a new lover, caring Joseba (Alex Brendemühl) but we can sense that Elena is deeply wounded and unhappy, her heart is broken and nothing makes her genuinely happy. People are eating, laughing, dancing around her and she is always a bit distant, as she can never truly relax with a secret scar she is hiding. Until one day she spots a group of teenagers on the beach and something about golden locks of Jean (Jules Porier) strongly reminds her of her long vanished son - so much, that she follows him home and peeks trough the bushes at his lunch with a family. From here, movie turns into obsession not unlike Gustav von Aschenbach and Tadzio in "Death in Venice" - middle aged woman stalking a teenage boy who responds with his youthful innocence, curiosity and even erotic interest. Because Elena keeps everything packed up tightly inside and never reveals how deeply she still suffer the loss of her boy, after all these years, the whole story appears kind of sordid - everybody (including Jean himself) thinks this is a crazy lady lusting after a teenage boy and eventually things just fall apart because his family won't allow her close by anymore. The obsession turns almost into madness, shared between Elena and Jean.

I left the cinema very upset - I needed a drink and a good ranting over glass of wine why was this so insufferable, this & that. Everything would have been so much easier had Elena only talk to someone - the whole drama happens because she is keeping everything inside and never even confides what tortures her. People get the wrong conclusion because they don't understand her perspective. Boy and his teenage friends think this is a crazy lady lusting after him. Colleagues at work, people around them, Jean's family - they all judge her and have their own conclusions simply because she never tells anybody "listen, he reminds me so much of my own son he went missing many years ago". Had she only said that out loud, people would react completely differently and might even understand what she is going trough. But she keeps silent and appears as deranged woman running after a teenage boy, who naturally fights with his parents because he is so young that for him this is probably first love and an earthquake. I even suggested that the very first scene could have been placed last, to explain why she behaved the way she did. My friend didn't agree, he thought this was perfect and claimed he was never bored even though the movie crawled and went on forever. There was something intentionally slow about the pacing that made me feel as the movie was going on for hours and hours (its actually two hours long) and frankly, it could have been edited since lots of scenes were not really so important. I was angry, I was mad and upset because nothing was the way I wanted  - later, as I calmed down, I just ad to accept the movie moved me very much and its actually very, very strong drama, even if it had upset me. This was not my vision but directors and he created his own work - later I found out that the whole movie was expansion of that first, chilling scene that was originally a short movie. So from that particular scene - mother on the phone - Rodrigo Sorogoyen has built a whole movie that now follows what happened with Elena afterwards. Now I think its excellent, how interesting that it provoked such strong emotions - I just needed to sleep on it and think of it from a different perspective. I saw it a week ago and still thinking about it. 

"The Kingmaker" by Lauren Greenfield (2019)

This is one of the best documentaries I have seen so far in 2020. and it was definitely thought-provoking and kind of a movie you just want to discuss with your friends afterwards. It was done with a full co-operation of Imelda Marcos who kind of has a strained relationship with the media - her willingness to constantly talk to journalists shows that she still deeply care about her public image (there is a whole army of people taking care of her hair, make up and the dresses) but no matter from which perspective one looks at it, she is not convincing. What "The Kingmaker" does and it does it masterfully, is to present how history can be re-written if we are not careful and the mistakes from the past are bound to happen again and again if people are willing to be manipulated. 

Imelda comes across as a beautiful trophy wife who overstayed her welcome - long ago, she was the pearl of Philippines, a president's wife and an elegant hostess who had her hand kissed by every visiting politician. Gullible and sentimental population admired the couple for decades, until they brazen political manipulations became unbearable - had they quietly resigned in time, president and his pretty wife might have enjoyed comfortable life out of the spotlight, but it took a revolution to topple them from a throne and even than, Imelda returns to Manilla in order to bulldoze way for her son's political ambition. It is very clear that the son is not really in it but he does it for the mother who is basking in attention and there is a strong hint that grandson might follow the path. While the camera follows aggressive political campaign and election, we also witness testimonies of the people who were imprisoned, tortured and raped during years of president Marcos regime - they can't believe how gullible the population became in the meantime and how quickly everything is forgotten, why are Marcoses even allowed to return to the country, not to mention to participate in a election. 

The secret behind president Ferdinand Marcos power is in the finances given to him by US as exchange for persecuting communists in Philippines - we are talking about billions of dollars meant for building the infrastructure. They surely built and built, but this were mostly vanity projects, palaces and investments that had nothing to do with re-building the country. Not unlike French royal family who had to escape in a carriage during the revolution, Marcoses had to escape with a helicopter while angry mob was demolishing their palace bellow - even than, they had enough wealth amassed in various banks around the world. It took some guts for Imelda to actually return to Philippines and the documentary is now following her attempts to bring her family back in the political frontline. The scary thing is - she actually might succeed. The new president (who appears to be a con man) Rodrigo Duterte is more than willing to help them for exchange for the bribe - however, Marcoses are playing with fire here because this is a very dangerous situation where political opponents and competition are openly murdered in the night. As long as this president finds them useful and non-threatening, he will let them parade around. But there is a cold look in his eyes that suggest he could easily eliminate the whole family once he puts his hands on their bank accounts. 

Imelda herself is simpering and whimpering - she loves to repeat how she lost her mother at the age of eight and was hard-working her whole life. In one of the movie's best scenes, she is again telling her same old story but trough Freudian slip, she said "At the age of eight I lost my money, um, mother"  - no doubt after years of repeating the same script she actually genuinely believes her own words and sees herself as a mother of the nation. Wincing in disgust at the scenes of poverty of children patients in a cancer ward, she quickly gives away some cash "for the candy"  but this is as far as her mothering goes. Realising that Picasso and Michelangelo hanging above her might attract some unwanted attention, she quickly replaces them with some inconspicuous photographs. My issue with all of this is not the wealth itself but the criminal ways it was amassed and used for pulling the strings behind the scenes - its a cautionary tale that probably functions around the world, not just in Philippines. Personally I think that Marcoses are in a danger and would have been far safer living in a comfortable anonymity of Bel Air - Imelda's political ambition will probably get them all killed sooner or later. 

World Press Photo Exhibition 2020

First, I must state how much I enjoy my civilian life now - its been two years already and I am still giddy with joy that I have managed to escape slavery on the cruise ships and finally got out of the hamster's wheel - people think its glamorous life but in reality its everything but. Instead of working seven days a week and wasting my precious "free time" on trainings, drills and whatnot, I am now actually able to have work & private life separated. Work is work, than I switch off. And as Corona epidemics seems to have subdued here, now I am enjoying my walks, cinemas and yes, dear reader, exhibitions.

I was walking somewhere (probably hunting for a specific brand of Sangria), minding my own business and humming along, when this poster caught my attention. Some spectacular creature in a food market, totally crazy. Like Carmen Miranda out of place. I thought it was brilliant and actually took a double take, walked back to see it better. Right than and there I decided this would be interesting gift for my friend Ricardo who appears slightly more civilised than my co-workers, so he was invited for a surprise, as I often do. Poor guy suffered trough some bizarre cinema choices with me and never complained, but now I thought enough is enough and before he starts thinking I am some horror freak, lets see photo exhibition of what I assumed must be the best photos of the year. You know, twilights in Andes, lake in China, magic forrest in Germany and such. I am really naive sometimes.

So we came to this exhibition, which mind you is situated in a spectacular place called De Nieuwe Kerk and its actual 15th century Gothic church used nowadays as a exhibition place. Everything around here is old & recycled so its not unusual to see an old butcher sign above what is now a hairdresser or a salt warehouse moonlighting as a luxurious hotel, still the idea of genuine ancient protestant church hosting exhibits about Muslims, Buddha and Sumatrans still gives me a kick - all those admirals and playwrights buried here would probably turn in their graves. So you have this incredibly pretty old space and super modern exhibitions somehow squeezed inside. Fine, after all, why not? 

You can imagine my horror when instead of nice pictures of kitties, puppies and animals I have actually encountered award-winning photos of such happy subjects as protesters beaten by police, Indian girls mutilated as a punishment by their families, young racists, people crying on the cemeteries, African emigrants and Russian Chernobyl ladies - it was one horror after the other and I'm afraid Ricardo now definitely thinks I am some weirdo - mind you, photos were very gripping and provocative but definitely too much to take at once, kind of makes you to cut your wrists right than and there. There were some very interesting images by Italian photographer Lorenzo Tugnoli and I liked those the most. For some reason they spoke to me - he was photographing Middle East and there were some haunting images of Taliban soldiers that I found fascinating, because the Western world describes them as a terrorists but what I saw on the pictures was not that famous, notorious "otherness" but our basic, human tragedy - trough his lenses I could glimpse exhaustion, fear, hunger and uncertainty. Souls in pain. And suddenly here I am, standing in the middle of an old protestant church turned museum and feeling compassion for Talibans. Maybe its good that I came to visit, after all. 

"Color Out of Space" by Richard Stanley (2019)

I have encountered H. P. Lovecraft relatively recently, just a few years ago as I was digging slightly more seriously into horror literature and trying to find out is there something else besides Anne Rice and Stephen King. The answer was yes, but you need to search around in order to discover something that is not a typical pulp fiction - best sellers were not really so memorable and often simply depended on gore, sex and violence. Shirley Jackson was a revelation and than around the same time I finally decided to check this guy, who seems to have cult following - his 1927. short story "Color Out of Space"  was sensational and my first introduction to his style. As brilliant as Lovecraft was, he turned out to be a bit too intense for me so I always read his work cautiously, little by little, short story here and there, never one after the another as with some other writers. 

When I heard that there is a new movie version of this famous story, I was simultaneously thrilled and apprehensive - after all, Lovecraft creates the atmosphere of menace and doom with his words, so transferring this on a screen, into a completely different medium means that story will probably depend on visual effects and acting. I was correct: director Richard Stanley take on it is lovingly twisted re-telling that has almost nothing really in common with Lovecraft but a lot with 1950s monster B movies. And guess what, it worked perfectly. Because even during his lifetime, Lovecraft's writing was never considered a high literature and was always published in a trashy pulp magazines so it kind of makes sense that now comes to the silver screen as a trashy B movie with exaggerated acting and lots of blood all over the place. 

The movie itself was great FUN. I genuinely don't remember when was the last time I had such fun in the cinema because normally I watch everything very for analytically and always found old ideas rehashed and presented as new, but here everything was moving in a such speed that there was no time for using the brain - I could just swirl trough some crazy LSD fantasy and enjoy the ride. The first half rolls nicely as a introduction to a doomed family who have just moved to a isolated new property and you don't have to be familiar with the story to understand something bad will happen to them. Director Richard Stanley takes a very basic frame - family living far away from everybody else, gets meteorite in their farm and strange things started happening - but naturally builds his own story around it. While I am not entirely sure how did they get Joely Richardson for this project, it seems like a perfectly natural choice for unrepentantly hammy Nicolas Cage who overacts, exaggerates and basically knowingly winks at the audience trough the whole movie - he knows that we know this is not a high art and here, you wanted camp, I'll give you camp. In a way its a equivalent to those old movies where stars like Joan Crawford in the twilight of their careers valiantly tried to hold on to the very last minute on a screen, covered with blood and screaming while waving the axe/scissors/hammer. Once things started rolling, I spent the rest of the movie with hands covering my face and not only I was squirming uncomfortably but looking away and behaving like a squeamish teenage girl - I honestly don't remember when was the last time I wriggled and wriggled so much in the cinema - as we went out, both me and my friend were laughing like madmen and had immediately to go for a drink out in a open air to get back to reality. I could actually watch it again. It was a breath of fresh air amongst movies full of cliches, it might be derivative from 1950s but today it felt completely new. I actually like this director big time and looking forward to his second Lovecraft project. 

"A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood" by Marielle Heller (2019)

Apparently Tom Hanks really wanted to do this biopic of TV icon Fred Rogers because he thought the world needs something positive right now. And I do agree with him. I also happen to love his work, in fact I don't think that I have ever seen anything by Hanks that I disliked - he always came across as a very nice, decent guy, sort of modern day James Stewart who back in his day was one of the most beloved Hollywood actors. There is something quintessentially good about Hanks and it makes perfect sense that he plays in a movie about somebody who was a good guy. Mind you, Mr.Rogers TV show has never been shown in my part of the world so the impact of his fame eludes me but I can imagine and understand he was somebody very much trusted and beloved, in fact movie makes a point that he patiently bore the weight of his celebrity in order to help the people around him. So, there is something unnervingly saintly about Mr.Rogers but the director Marielle Heller leave to the audience to decide is he a good guy or simply a professional who plays his act. 

Making a biopic about somebody who is goodie-two-shoes might not really be a story worth two hours and here is where Heller decided to use her creative freedom and suddenly shifts the focus from Mr. Rogers to a journalist who interviews him - Matthew Rhys is actually very good as a troubled, broken journalist who initially approaches Mr. Rogers with suspicion, just to end up being a true believer. Unfortunately this is where I lost the patience with the movie itself - it slides into sentimental "message movie" (like that awful "Wrinkle in a time") and suddenly its all about forgiveness, emotions, tears and family drama where Tom Hanks/Mr. Rogers looks knowingly from a distance and his blank expression could be zillion different things, from saintly approval to menacing disapproval - its up to a viewer to decide. The whole family drama thing disturbs the balance of the movie so much that I found myself genuinely annoyed - why all of this patronising and why should he forgive alcoholic father who left Rhys when he was a little boy? Would forgiveness now make him somehow happy man? (The movie suggest it does) Well, I passionately disagree and not even Mr. Rogers could twist my arm to forgive somebody who was basically asshole my whole life, just because its his time to die now. I had this exact situation in my life and never, ever crawled, cried or forgave. The parent who had scarred little child for the rest of his life do not deserve any forgiveness or affections. 

"They are like this" said my friend as we left the cinema. We laughed and giggled as I dared to mention that character of Mr. Rogers seems somehow like elderly Forest Gump - its iconic impact hanging like a curse above the rest of Tom Hanks work. In spite of all the warm-hearted reviews, I was a little bit disappointed. This was patronising and sentimental in a way that did not sit well with me at all. Movie directors used to be able to make you think without being obvious about it.