Tuesday, September 29, 2009
When I woke up the other morning, the first thing I heard on the CBC was a news story about Roman Polanski's arrest in Switzerland. My reaction? I said - out loud -"OH for FUCK'S sake." You know it's a good morning when your first sentence includes the F-bomb. My initial reaction was frustration that this whole thing hadn't been dropped and put to rest long, LONG ago, and sympathy for the man involved.
But I've been thinking about my reaction. And about the situation. And I've been trying really really hard to figure out why I have sympathy for a 44 year old man who drugged and sodomized at 13 year old girl. And what I hate is that I don't really have a good answer. Or at least not any answers that I'm comfortable with.
Am I absolving him because he has brought some absolutely brilliant films to the world? No, but...yes he has ... but no... maybe?
Or because he is a "star"? Um....
Is it because I think the man has taken enough punishment in his life? (is the Holocaust and your wife's brutal murder not enough for one lifetime?) Um....kind of?
Is it because the 70's were different times (you know - drugs, free love, flowers and peace? or something like that?) I guess sort of...but not really...
Am I being a "victim blamer"? (she should have left when he told her to pose topless?) Ugh.
Or a "victim's mother" blamer? As if she knew...
Or is it just the passage of time - 30 years later let's just let it go...after all, the victim has ... But does that make it OK? No....
I can't explain it - particularly not when at the same time I am more than ready to be creeped out by Woody Allen's consensual relationship & subsequent marriage with a girl 35 years his junior that he had known (and helped raise) since she was a young girl (though strangely it seems to have worked out...but still - GROSS!), or the recent revelations about John and Mackenzie Phillips (though their sexual relationship is just one miniscule piece of a WHOLE lotta f*cked up). And lord knows that even though my nieces are both young adults now, if I found out either of them had something going on with a guy 30 years older than them, consensual though it may be, I would quite certainly be ready to rip out the offending testes with my bare hands - even though in the eyes of the law they are both "consenting adults". Reasonable? Maybe not, but ...would it be different if that 30-years-older guy was George Clooney? Or Harrison Ford? Or David Suzuki? Or David Bowie? (I know, I know - a random selection if ever there was one) I like to think not...but...?
So why am I cutting Polanski so much slack?
I honestly don't know. It must have something to do with his cultural significance, or his personal history, mixed with the passage of time, because I know for certain if some random 40 year old guy was caught raping a 13 year old I'd want the book thrown at him.
Ugh. It doesn't make sense, and it obviously doesn't sit comfortably...but I can't shake it.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
At the risk of this blog becoming All Dan Mangan, All the Time - this Vancouver boy has just won the $25,000 "Artist of the Year" at XM Satellite's Verge Music Awards, a good old fashioned popularity contest calculated by listener votes if I am not mistaken.
For those that have been following this blog - I like to think that this is proof that when I'm right, I'm right - rare though it may be (and as nonsensical a statement as that is...in fact, I'm not sure exactly how my logic is working here for any of this, but it's Sunday and it's early, so work with me). And big congrats to Dan - it seems like it is finally happening for him.
The video above is Dan with Vancouver's Hey Ocean! at the Western Canadian Music Awards in Brandon MB (whoohoo Brandon! ;) Enjoy.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
So - how is the band fairing? Well, to start with the only remaining member on stage is the irreplaceable musical politico Joey Shithead Keithley, and he's still got it going on. He looks great (dare I say better?), he sounds great, and he's still as empassioned a guy as he ever was. Sure, there isn't the same frantic rawness anymore, but it's 30 years later for heavens sake - if things hadn't grown a bit more...controlled...over time, it would be pretty weird. And I can't really imagine the 1982 Shithead telling the audience to get themselves aquainted with Woody Guthrie, the father of the protest song - but I kind of loved that he did last night. Change? Sure - but overall the essence of the man and his concerns is just the same - it has just grown deeper and more solid. He's still living it, and that in itself is inspirational.
I have full videos with better sound here (including the one featuring the stuffed Gordon Campbell effigy featured in these stills - which was quickly dismembered, its limbs thrown about by the crowd after Joey tossed it into the mosh pit ), but I though for this site I would just post a couple of short clips - the top one is from the fringes of the mosh pit roiling in front of the stage, which my ears (and camera) could only manage for a couple of songs. Enjoy.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
OK - for those that are interested, here are the films I have tickets for (so far... I have 2 unassigned tickets).
I may die of exhaustion (there are a couple of concerts in there as well) but there are a couple of things I'm really looking forward to - I do love Greenaway, and I do love Rembrandt, so I have high hopes for Rembrandt J'accuse. We Live in Public is also high on the list, particularly after I saw Errol Morris' interview with Josh Harris...but you can hit the link to find out more. And I will try to have the energy to do some brief reviews, at least of my faves. Wish me luck.
We Live in Public
Only When I Dance
Will Not Stop There
It's Not Anime
Wah Do Dem (What They Do)
Cooking With Stella
I Killed My Mother
Monday, September 21, 2009
I do love VIFF, but though it pains me to say so, it makes me long for the crackling excitement of TIFF - which admittedly was my first experience of a film fest of any kind, so the bar was set high. I have fond memories of the long (LONG) lineup on labour day to pick up my tickets to see how many of my first picks I had this year (it's a complex, nail biting lottery system, details of which I won't bore you with). I have fond memories of sitting above Nick Cave, behind Roger Ebert, and in front of Alexis Bledel; of seeing Peter Dinklage walk confidently down the theatre aisle to a standing ovation after the screening of the truly lovely Station Agent; of listening to so many young directors so obviously and genuinely thrilled to have their films screened at such a big fest. I LOVED IT. Well, except for the crazy prices and overall stress of the whole ticketing process...ok I lie, the ticketing stress kind of added to the thrill of it all.
So - in comparison, VIFF feels kind of... tame. And easy. No lottery, no craziness. And seeing a film is actually cheaper at VIFF than when it comes out in wide release (ok, maybe that qualifies as crazy). It's very Vancouver somehow. There's no anxiety, no real buzz - just the opportunity to see what is - hopefully - a great film or two, fingers crossed.
I will keep you posted.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Arc de Triomphe:
It's big. And if you make your way to the top, it gives you a clear view not only of Tui's rear end, but also the completely baffling traffic patterns below (can you use the word 'pattern' in this case? YIKES)
It's big. And quite beautiful. And it houses an example of Foucault's Pendulum, which is an added bonus.
The Eiffel Tower.
Also very big. I've included a "distance shot" so you can see how it looms over the Seine. We went in the evening, which was cool - and not only because it was raining (one of the few rainy patches we had, so I'm not complaining). It is an amazing structure. Part of me was hoping for a lighting storm...a larger part of me was not. Next time, will check it out during the day.
Also large...with very large rose windows. And a large number of truly fantastic small details, like this little guy. I'm restricting myself to two photos, which is a bit tough. There is a great photo of Tui doing a Hunchback pose, but you'll just have to imagine it.
The Luxembourg Palace/Gardens.
Big gardens, near the big Pantheon. This is one of the gorgeous manicured Parisian parks where you can observe the the locals at play. They also serve big (and really good) sandwiches, which you can eat seated on one of the many green chairs scattered about. A really beautiful place.
Bored now, so I'll stop!
Saturday, September 12, 2009
I think the Paris posts will be winding down soon, but I did want to post this one. Like the video of Tuesday on the Arc, this is another one really aimed at the family - specifically my brother M. who, I know, has a particular interest in Butterscotch the Robot Pony. So - here is a short of Mum enjoying meeting Butterscotch in the Bon Marché.
And as for other sweets - one word: FAUCHON. Fauchon is a gourmet food store - a big, hot pink house of food porn. Mustards, chocolates, pickled beans, coffee - you name it, it's there, all housed in hot pink luxury. We had a very very nice lunch at the Fauchon café (Tui is eating the end of that lunch in the photo), and more importantly, we bought 6 eclairs to take home - also pictured. ( T1, these are for you). Fauchon must have about 20 kinds of eclair to choose from, each one costing the same as two bottles of wine (my new unit of measure). But man, were they worth it. We carefully cut each of the 6 into three pieces, savoured, discussed, debated, and picked our favorites. Which, for me, was pretty much ALL of them.
Friday, September 11, 2009
1) gorgeous Seine background
2) acceptable picture of me (in that I am wearing sunglasses, preserving my anonymity - I avoid posting pictures of myself on this blog just in case I write something offensive and someone wants to track me down; and due to some weird body twisting on my part I don't look 7 months pregnant in that dress for once, which adds to the acceptability factor)
3) clear demonstration of the height difference between Miss T and myself. I might add, my height is NOT unusual, or overly short, despite what the rest of my family tells me. I am 5'5". Tui is closing in on 5'12". But she likes to remind me of my place with the little people. And once, she responded to an email of mine in which I was ragging on her to respond to a question I needed the answer to with "I'm not responding because I don't know the answer yet. And because you're below my sight line." Which, though it deserves a slap, makes me laugh every time I think about it. Tuesday's height made for a few good moments on the trip (including the couple on the plane who thought she was a remarkably tall 12 year old - "look at her face! She's just really tall") My fave was a point on our trip where Mum and I had to go to the washroom, leaving Tui outside waiting (and waiting). When we returned, she mentioned that a couple of short men had been circling her. We decided they were planning on clubbing her and dragging her back to their tribe of short men to improve on their breeding program. Luckily, we saved her just in time.
Picture #2 - Mum and Tui and the Ambiguous Sign. I am sure many MANY tourists have taken photos of what might be the world's most ambiguous street sign. We discussed the options:
1)NO hand holding allowed;
2)NO pedophiles allowed;
3)NO holding Jan's hand when you are wearing pants, Tui
I did some internet research, and discovered that the actual meaning is "end of pedestrian zone." I'm hoping they fired whoever designed this one.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Thought this time I'd focus on three different things you can do if you want to see dead people in Paris. I'm not saying that the methods are limited to three - I can provide other suggestions if necessary, that's for sure.
Ranked according to levels of squeamishness
Method #1: Basilica of Saint-Denis (AKA "the Royal Necropolis")
The majority of the French monarchs from the 10th century on are buried at Saint-Denis, so there is no shortage of dead people to visit. It's great for the squeamish because the dead have been transformed into pleasant effigies - well, except for the dried heart of Louis XVII, which is presented in a nice clear glass jar. And, you have the bonus of being able to admire the variety of loyal dogs placed at the feet of the royal women (in contrast to the lions at the feet of the men), and some great 16th C graphiti (enlarge the photo of the bare breasted beauty and you'll see what I mean).
All this, housed in the first major gothic building. You can't lose.
Method #2: Cemeteries are nice...
Paris has some of the most renowned cemeteries in Europe. We didn't get to the most famous, but we did wander through the Montmartre Cemetery, which was impressive enough. It ranks a bit higher on the creepy scale than Saint-Denis because of the occasional disturbed grave, and the fact that some of the monuments seemed to include items that indicate some sort of habitation of the not-so-dead kind (why else would you need a pot? or a chair?). Added bonus: standoffish Parisian cemetery cats.
Method #3: The Paris Catacombs
Let's face it, who doesn't love a good ossuary?
This ranks pretty high on the creepy scale. To cut a long story short, in the late 18th C the inhabitants of the "city" cemeteries in Paris were dug up and their remains relocated to abandoned underground quarries (apparently the cemeteries were overwhelmed and the neighbouring living inhabitants were getting sick as a result...which I guess turns into a bit of a vicious cycle ...). So, you walk down about 130 steps (a typical Parisian spiral staircase) into the bowels of the city only to find tunnel upon narrow damp tunnel lined with neatly stacked ex-Parisians. Thousands of them. (as an aside - I have to say the first picture here - with the skulls on top - is one of my favorite photos EVER, because it looks so very baroque and painterly. Total fluke). And once you are down there, you are down there - there is no quick easy escape. If you get claustrophobic, stick to the cemeteries.
I might add that I did not touch any of the skulls, though it was kind of tempting. Not sure the same can be said of my companions.
So - that's the end of the tour through dead Paris. Something more lively next time perhaps.
Wednesday, September 09, 2009
Why yes, there is...and though we spent a fair bit of time in galleries/historic buildings/places with dead people, there is a lot we didn't see, but that just gives me another reason (other than cheese that is) to go back. It's a bit surreal for me to see things that I spent so many years studying and writing papers on and doing seminars about (and so many subsequent years slowly losing the details of ...sigh!). It's such a pleasure, but part of me is so frustrated that it couldn't have happened years ago when all that there book-learnin' was still locked securely in my brain.
I should also mention we had museum passes - expensive unless you are seeing a lot, BUT it means you can skip past the line ups in most cases, which is priceless.
Perhaps stupidly obvious, the thing that shocked me the most was the Louvre. I'm not a complete idiot - I knew it was big - but nothing could have prepared me for the scale of it. We spent about 7 hours walking through what I would guess is maybe 1/3 of the galleries - mainly the Egyptian section, and the 16th/17th C Netherlandish and Italian wings. The highlight for me was the Rubens room, which contains the unbelievable Marie de' Medici cycle. Unreal. UNREAL. The photo of Mum in the gallery is not my best effort, but hopefully it gives you an idea of the scale of it. I *heart* Rubens (and many other 17C Dutch/Netherlandish painters, admittedly) and I could have sat in there most of the day and been happy as a clam.
Realistically, the Louvre is probably a three day endeavor. The idea that they offer a one and a half hour tour of "the highlights" makes me shake my head. Highlights? The whole freaking place is a highlight. Maybe it's just the art snob in me that found the crowds around the Mona Lisa a bit pathetic. Sure, it is a master work, but there are hundreds of other true masterpieces in that gallery that are not surrounded by 100 photo snapping tourists quickly proving they have "seen it" before rushing off to snap the next thing.
I should also give a shout out to the Louvre's outstanding collection of mummified kitties. Gives me ideas for my two.
We also went to the nearby Museé de l'Orangerie, best known for two rooms of Monet's Waterlilies. Rubens could still take Monet in an artistic cage-match in my opinion (OK, full disclosure, though I appreciate their importance, I'm not a big lover of the Impressionists), but it was pretty impressive.
OK, running out of steam now. More later (hopefully) - maybe something about dead people, who knows?
Tuesday, September 08, 2009
So I promised a few photos and a few words about the trip. Not sure how many you'll get, but I will start and see where things go.
Firstly, if you are going to Paris - or just want a very funny read - I advise The Sweet Life in Paris, written by relocated American pastry chef David Lebovitz. Pretty much all you need to navigate the very unique culture that is Paris, mixed up with great recipes and wicked humour. I read it cover to cover on the flight over, and it was the perfect airplane book (thanks for the suggestion T1!!). And it is a LONG freaking flight, so you'll need something to read, trust me.
Maybe I'll start with a little bit about where we stayed in Montmartre. Montmartre is the highest point in Paris, north of the city centre, and is where much of the wonderfully whimsical Amelie was filmed. We rented an apartment, which is definitely the way to travel if you are staying put for a bit - it's nice to have a home base where you can relax and unwind. I did mention the issues with lack of promised phone/internet/extra bed earlier, but apart from that (which I could shake off a bit more easily after reading Lebovitz' book) it worked out well. The place was large and bright and perfectly located.
We quickly discovered the boulangeries and fromageries in the 'hood - OHMYGOD so good. SO good. Tuesday would skip off in the mornings and come back armed with a fresh baguette wrapped with a twist of brown paper, or with buttery croissants and some truly evil chocolate filled pastries, and late afternoon we would snuffle our way through wine, cheese (oh comté, how I love thee) and slices of baguette after a day of walking (and walking and walking) around the city. The photo of Tuesday is a post-cheese-gorge couch flop. Notice the comté induced smile.
Which brings me to a couple of points - first, wine. You can buy a bottle of wine (tasty, drinkable wine) for considerably less than a cup of coffee. It is seriously the cheapest thing in Paris. We were buying wine for the equivalent of maybe $4 a bottle - and I wasn't picking up the lowest priced bottles, trust me. Crazy. So - if you could survive on wine and wine alone, Paris would be a pretty cheap place to visit.
You also read a lot about the standoffish attitude of Parisians, but that wasn't really what I found. And honestly, if I was Parisian, I'd be standoffish - they just seem to have life worked out in a much more balanced (dare I say superior?) way. Or maybe I'm just getting seduced by their obvious respect for cheese. Anyhow - provided you play by the rules (greeting the store attendants when you enter and exit a store for instance), and make an effort to speak French, generally they take pity on you and do what they can to help and make communication easier. That doesn't mean to say that they weren't getting a few jollies from our stumbling attempts, but that's OK by me. What I did discover that my comprehension of written French is better than I thought it would be, and that Tuesday & I had enough vocabulary between us to get through the basics most of the time, Tui with a much more elegant accent than my own. As for Tui's reading comprehension, she spent a fair bit of time poring through a French book on methods of committing suicide that she found in the apartment bookcase (aka French holiday reading?) - and she seemed to be picking up most of it.
I think that's enough for today...more later.
Sunday, September 06, 2009
As a start - I couldn't wait to post this short video taken on our first day of serious touristing, on top of the Arc de Triomphe. I didn't know what a gem I had until Mum and I took a look at it on my camera during lunch later than day and both started crying with laughter...but maybe only my family will find it funny, who knows. Either way, it made for a great start to the day.
There is a life lesson in there somewhere (involving granny panties I'm thinking...).
Paris - meet Tui.