Film: Live Flesh

With its beautiful name, Carne Tremula, I was looking forward to seeing this film. I hadn't realised its position in the Almodovar canon, so was expecting a fun romp; I saw a magnificent human drama full of compassion, colour and life. It is perhaps the film that starts Almodovar's latest period of a fully realised vision of total cinema - full of the breath of life and the tragedies and beauties that go with it.

Film: High Heels

I had seen this when it first came out and was a little disappointed. Maybe I'm generally less critical or my standards have dropped, but I was pleasantly surprised seeing it again. A great 'middle period' Almodovar, it's silliness is very apparent but the deepening of warmth and affection to the actresses is very pleasurable to watch. The wonderful Marisa Paredes brings a dimension of believability to the film that the central conceit around 'Lethal' takes away! (you'll have to watch it yourself!)

My First Hangover (TM)

This charming introduction to the wonders of the adult world comes in powder pink or baby blue to match gender stereotypes, and it brought to you by:
- Wilkhahn Christmas drinks at Gingerboy (1 glass champagne, 1.5 white wine, 1 red wine)
- Xenodochium at The Order of Melbourne (1 gin and tonic)
- Melbourne Card Christmas drinks at Docklands (1 gin and tonic)
- Xenodochium again (another G&T? - I seem to lose track here, and at the time didn't realise that I hadn't had dinner either...)

Film: Pepi, Luci, Bom y otras chicas del monton

Hmmm. Pepi, Luci, Bom was Almovodar's first film, made 'guerrilla-style' on the streets of newly-democratic but conservative Madrid. Carmen Maura's teenage heiress (she was 35 at the time and almost looks it!) gets into all manner of scrapes, some of which are quite funny. But generally it's a curio, and mainly for Almodovar completists (which, um, includes me...)

Film: All About My Mother

This is one of my very favorite films. What more can I say?

The first 15min or so are the cinematic equivalent of a perfect short story: when has the special love between a mother and son been shown with such palpable force and gentleness? What follows is wonderful too. The loving depiction of the various types of 'woman' in the picture is one of the film's greatest treasures, reaching its height in the scene of the four central characters sitting talking on Manuela's sofa. My only problem is the depiction of Lola, which I find unconvincing, the only stain on a film that grows in my appreciation the more I see it.

Film: What Have I Done To Deserve This?

In a strange way this is possibly Almodovar's most 'realistic' film. Although the plot and characters appear extraordinarily outlandish, the film's style, reflecting the tenement surroundings, is lacking the outrageous colourations and stylisations of his later films. However, Carmen Maura is wonderful as the put-upon wife and mother, who sells one of her sons to a paedophile dentist and eventually uses a joint of meat to... Well, that would be giving the plot away!

Film: Kika

This bright, colourful, highly formalised film (even to the final shoot-out) is great fun, though not peak Almodovar. Recommended to those with an adventurous taste or to anyone who's enjoyed one of his films in the past. Ever-optimistic Kika weathers various storms, some created by her own irresponsible behaviour, some created by forces beyond her control (including her joyously sadistic director!). Sex and death have rarely been so upbeat.

Film: Women of the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown

I saw this in 1988 when it was first released. It was my first exposure to Pedro Almodovar's films. I loved it. I saw most (if not all) of his earlier films in the next year or so...

Watching it nearly 20 years later, I could enjoy it all over again almost as if fresh. And the pleasure was augmented by the sheer joy of the audience around me, a communal experience - this was similar in all the Amodovar screenings at ACMI this weekend: a quality crowd pleaser.

Carmen Maura, in her last performance for Almodovar until this year (what happened there?) is the centre of this whirling, exhilerating film. A boyish, and very 80s, Antonio Banderas is geeky (and not gay, unlike his earlier Almodovar roles). The wonderfully fish-faced Rossy de Palma and the cheeky grandmother Chus Lamprieve (both regulars with the director) help move things along.

Can you have too much of a Good Thing?...

*** ! VIVO ALMODOVAR ! ***

Phew! I knew that I was going to shout that from the rooftops at some point. I've just come out of seven Spanish films in four days at ACMI, directed by the master of outrageous soap opera with depth, Pedro Almodovar. It sampled all stages of his career:
- his early punk period, clumsy plot-less shockfests of sex, drugs and anti-establishment mannerisms (police, judges, the Church);
- his middle period of whacky, stylised, sexy and implausable but fun farces;
- his 'mature' style of beautifully realised characters circling around each other in improbable but delicious plots, with seamless integration of music, sets, clothes and photography.

Can you tell I'm a fan?

I'll post individual comments on the films...

Moderate Impact

[I'm going to tread cautiously here, as I don't know what our new masters, the Googlesphere, will allow...]

Dropping into my local music Megastore the other day, I stood at a listening post and listened to some of the new CDs on offer. Recently in the UK I'd been exposed to the latest singles by Robbie Williams and Justin Timberlake, and to Lily Allen's two singles, so I explored their albums a bit.

I usually like Robbie's music - it's fun, and given an edge because I have a bit of a revolted fascination in him: his self-destructive talent, alternately posturing show-off and gooey-eyed-cutie. I don't 'get' his new single, really, though it's OK - very 'Madonna-in-her-least-likeable-electronica-mode' perhaps...

I'm a bit of a closet fan of Justin. He's the bad-boy-from-the-wrong-side-of-the-tracks that's kissing your sister on the couch but still making eyes at you. Even when he's silly (boom box attempt at the end of Rock Your Body) he's somehow endearing. And he's done some very decent videos - Cry Me A River being a favourite (very architectural). And his latest single is catchy, interesting and with a Gattaca*-inspired video that's great in a sub-James Bond way!

But the revelation is Lily. Her fun, infectious, feel-good songs are actually dark and grim underneath their upbeat surfaces. Nice contrast, nice videos too. Hmm, shall I buy it - or maybe I can convince X** to buy it and then iPod it from his computer...?

But what surprised me was the 'Moderate Impact' label on the CDs. Justin sings about "motherf-ckers" and Lily complains in the first line about her ex "f-cking that girl next door". Perhaps the only remaining option to boost your label into High Impact is to use "c-nt"?? (now the most taboo word in English, apart from the phrase "yes, I do have a gun in my bag" at the airport which gives you a visa-free trip to Guantanamo...)

* I've always had a thing about Jude Law...
** The Ex, of course

Best Breakfasts of Melbourne (Part 1)

The weekend before last I had the best poached eggs in the universe, I think, at Bistrot d'Orsay in the city (at the Athenaeum in Collins St). Opposite the Regent, it's a popular place for pre-show meals & drinks, however at midday on a Saturday I was the only person there for a late breakfast. But the eggs!... Florentine (with spinach & hollandaise on toasted muffin) with an extra of bacon - everything was perfect, with the hollandaise particularly lovely, not overpowering in taste or richness and with a subtle lemony zing. The spinach wasn't too salty either, a common problem. And the eggs were neither solid nor snotty!

See the Breakfast Blog for another opinion:
http://thebreakfastblog.blogspot.com/2005/12/bistrot-dorsay-melbourne.html


Last Saturday I treated myself to the famous coddled egg toasty at Pearl, in the bar/cafe part of the posh restaurant at the bottom end of Church St, Richmond. In a little box of fried bread, bits of egg are nestled under a cap of a poached (I guess) egg, itself topped with a mustardy sauce and roe - fish eggs that pop in the mouth when eaten. While really wonderful, it's a bit precious and the sauce isn't as heavenly as a well-made hollandaise - I guess I'm just a traditional guy. But I did finish off with one of their muffins - spectacular melt-in-the-mouthy items, different flavours each time. If you're going to be evil food-wise, do it in style!

http://thebreakfastblog.blogspot.com/2005/07/pearl-richmond.html


And then on Sunday a friend and I went to the place-of-the-moment, Mart130. Mart is, of course, 'tram' backwards and this is a conversion of the old Middle Park railway station building, now light rail stop. In fact, trams have never stopped here... but I digress. It's deservedly popular, with dog-friendly tables on the platform, a 'cosy' dining hall (in the old waiting room?) and a generous back terrace overlooking tennis courts in Albert Park with the city skyline in the distance. With friendly staff, seriously good food and a charmingly haphazard payment system at the end, the emphasis is on 'casual good time'. But be prepared: with waiting times for a seat between 0 and 40 minutes, and looong waits for the food to come out of the miniscule kitchen, there's plenty of time to chatter with friends!

http://thebreakfastblog.blogspot.com/2006/02/mart-130-middle-park.html


More breakfast reports later, I'm sure (it's probably my favourite meal of the day, at least on weekends) - so I'll have to revisit some other favourites soon...*

* such as the Green Grocer, North Fitzroy, and Cafe Sweethearts in South Melbourne. Yum :)

Film: Shortbus

What does one say about a film that's chock-a-block full of real, on-screen sex of all varieties, that's also warm and charmingly optimistic? Thankfully it's also sexy, not boring, sometimes laugh-out-loud funny, and not at all embarrassing to sit through with friends twenty years older than yourself... - although it might be a bit intense with one's parents!

In a post-911 world, America's youth are struggling to reconcile having rich and meaningful emotional inner lives with a mindless pursuit of consumer capitalism; the twin tower attacks were "the first real event of their lives" and they follow the pull of that feeling to New York. And their instincts pull them together in complicated (and often physical) ways...

Sad Mac

I finally bit the bullet and took my poor little MacBook Pro (laptop) in for servicing on Tuesday. "10 (working) days" is what the guy said (he wasn't a Genius as per the UK Apple Stores I visited recently, but he did seem to be knowledgable and efficient). So a fortnight without my baby, without home internet (and blogging facilities!), without all the comforts of the electronic world...

Wow. I'd better start interacting with real live humans and stuff!

Film: My Best Fiend

The last of a triple-bill of Werner Herzog 'documentary' films at the Cinemateque, this is his reflections on Klaus Kinski, the star of several of his best-known films, and a sort of demon-nature creature. Kinski's hyper state is reflected in footage of his performances (on stage, on- and 'off'-camera), in interviews and, especially, in the stories that Herzog tells both on-camera and in voice-over. Again, Herzog places himself as one of the dual circling suns at the centre of the film, around which all other elements swirl like a vortex; the two protagonists complement and contrast, each feeding off and into the other. No wonder their collaborations (such as 'Aguirre, Wrath of God' and 'Fitzcarraldo') are some of the most bizarre and hypnotic films yet made.

I wasn't going to stay for this film as the evening was getting late enough. However as I was preparing to leave the film started and I saw the first minute of footage: Kinski as Jesus, berating his audience with fire in his eyes and obscenities in his mouth. I was hooked and stayed to the end: a beautifully poetic, calm conclusion where the madman Kinski connects to and finds kindred in an Amazonian butterfly.

Film: La Soufrière

This is a spooky little film made by Werner Herzog in 1977. When news that a major volcano on Martinique is about to explode, all inhabitants (but one) are evacuated and Herzog, typically, rushes to the scene with his cameramen, to prowl the deserted streets, climb the smoking time bomb and interview the exhausted and resigned remaining resident. Very well worth catching, despite it all not seeming to mean anything and yet remain mesmerising and memorable.

Film: Grizzly Man

This is Werner Herzog's critical assemblage of Timothy Treadwell's footage of himself and grizzly bears in Alaska, together with a refreshingly candid documentary analysis of the footage, the events leading up to Treadwell's death (along with that of his girlfriend) and Treadwell's reinvention of himself through the bears and his films. As the interwoven threads pull together a complex picture emerges of a deeply flawed man, but one who inspired great loyalty from the various friends interviewed.

With Herzog placing himself in the film almost as centrally as Treadwell, the potent themes of raw nature and controlled exposure can be applied to Treadwell and his girlfriend Huguenard, to the bears and foxes of Alaska, and to Herzog himself. Seeing this on the same night as Herzog's 'My Best Fiend', I also wonder about Klaus Kinski, the seemingly out-of-control shooting star of some of his best films.

Cinémathèque, c'est magnifique!

For anyone with more than a passing interest in cinema, the Melbourne Cinémathèque is an essential part of the year. For a measly amount, you get 11 months of films (every Wednesday from 7pm) at the fantastic ACMI cinemas (Australian Centre of the Moving Image) at Federation Square. The programme contains a mixture of films: great well-known classics, influential but forgotten films, old pop culture icons, new foreign releases, obscure avant-guard experiments... Something for the whole family!

They often now have seasonettes (mini seasons) of a particular director's work, so you can easily catch up on, say, 6-7 films of David Lynch over three weeks. Plus, if you keep your eyes open you can pick up the ACMI film calendars and see even more - for example they're having an Almodovar retrospective in a few weeks! I'm so excited I can hardly breathe...

Steamin' 'n' Eatin'

After my swimming practice (OK, sinking-'n'-spluttering practice) at the Richmond Recreation Centre this afternoon, I cycled down to the Richmond Fitness First and did my legs workout in the gym. In this way I completely avoided the running of the Melbourne Cup... :) Afterwards, feeling quite tired, and before showering, I sat in the steam room and relaxed - or tried to. It's very hot in there! It went through a period of being a tepidarium, but now the thermostat seems to be permanently high and it's a challenge to stay there for very long. I haven't happened upon any corpses yet, but it remains to be seen if there will be heart attacks.

Because the steam room is in the male changing room (I guess the women have one too) occasionally you get guys using it - shock! horror! - without clothes. This still seems odd, in a western/anglo context, though it shouldn't - after all everyone's getting changed immediately outside and taking their clothes off. But some men still act as if they're at the beach, putting their towel around themselves before gingerly removing their pants, sometimes quite awkwardly and with great difficulty. On the other hand, you don't seem to get any great exhibitionists either (well, at least not when I've been there!). It tends to be quite workaday and busnesslike. Not like the Sydney FF changerooms, if the tabloids are to be trusted...

Today there weren't any nudies, but it did get reasonably full. And that showed up another interesting aspect of steamroom etiquette (it seems): no talking. Maybe it's just the demographic at the Richmond gym, but there seems to be no way of striking up a conversation in the steam room. When I was living in London 3 years ago it seemed to be very easy to get talking in the gym steam room and sauna; though the steam room was perhaps more chatty, perhaps because the steam tends to stop people looking each other in the eye...?

MInd you, two days ago in the FF St Kilda steam room I did get chatted up by a guy, quite unexpectely and unlookedfor. It was very flattering and, in my newly-single state, reassuring. Um, I did though put the thought that possibly he's just a serial sleazebag out of my mind completely. But I can reassure the Sydney tabloids that this is the first time it's happened in 11 years of hanging about in gym changing rooms!

Afterwards I dragged my exhausted body down the road to Pearl, for an early dinner. Lovely (deconstructed gormet "steak sandwich"). But what gives with all the stuff in the bill folder? Not just the receipt and their card, but also: an advert for a fundraising charity dinner ($225 per seat, ouch - but you can get tables of 10 for $2,250 - bargain), an advert for another charity fundraising dinner (only $195 per seat), another bit of flotsam and jetsam that I forget, and, finally and mysteriously, a little envelope containing six colour cards of (signature?) Pearl dishes. ?? At least I know what "scallop custard with marrons, caramelised apple, asparagus puree, kellybrook cider, butter sauce and crab roe salt" looks like now. Perhaps it's the beginning of a trend towards high-end restaurants having point-to-the-picture menus like South-East Asian cafes.

Film: Children of Men

I've just seen this (as an alternative to sitting around *not* seeing the Paul Kelly cabaret 'Just woke up from a coma' at the Spiegeltent, but that's another story...). The small cinema 8 at the Nova was almost full (it was cheap night Monday), and there was a lovely atmosphere of expectation. The film didn't disappoint.

Gripping from its very start, it propelled us through a grimly recognisable world in the near future, a dirty discordant England in 2028 hanging onto a civilisation after the rest of the world seems to have self-destructed in terrorism, war, pollution and civil unrest. Hang on, those exactly describe the Britain shown, heavily but convincingly based on an updated 1984 (actually from a PD James novel, of all things). The direction, camerwork and mise-en-scene work together superbly, and they together with Clive Owen's central performance take us into the thick of this mysterious chase through a world we don't want to be in but seem to be edging towards. Several amazing set-pieces, some not without a lot of humour, had the audience gasping, but for all the adreneline the serious themes and comments on current events come though clearly.

Very highly recommended.

New Blog starts...?

Now, I'm a newbie to this blogging stuff. As I previously said, I only set this up to make anonymous comments on a friend's blog. They probably saw through me anyway! And I've just noticed that that was aaaaaaages ago.

Oh well, I'm starting a new life anyway. I have a brand new Ex, and a flat that's suddenly so empty. That's why I'm chatting to you, dear reader. I know that you'll always be there for me to blog away to, to unload sudden impulses of thoughts or events on, at any time of the day or night.

Like tonight! I went to a film - but that should be a new Post, I guess :) (told you I was new at all of this; guess I'll have to work out what Templates are etc etc...)