In class this week I've watched two winners of the Golden Lion at the Venice Film Festival. Monday I watched Vozvraschcheniye (The Return), which
won the prize at the 2003 festival, for my Fathers in Film class. It was about a father who comes back to his family after being away for 12 years and takes his two sons on a trip. He essentially gives them a crash course in "how to be a man." So this is kind of weird, but I really liked the older son in the movie, so I went to IMDB (Internet Movie Database--the cinephile's Wikipedia) and then found out that he had actually drowned on the date of the Russian premiere. He was born in 1987. It was crazy (and also eerie considering the role of water in the movie) and sad. On Wednesday in my Third Cinema and Beyond class, we watched the winner of the 1966 Golden Lion: The Battle of Algiers. It's about the Algerian struggle for independence from France that had taken place only four years before, so it was still very recent in the audience's memory. There's one scene where three women take three bombs into the French section and set them off.
I was surprised after the film when all the other students immediately began referring to the Algerians as terrorists because it was impossible for me to see them that way. I'm including the clip because it's the most famous segment of the film (1:22-the end--more on "The Battle of Algiers 6of13"). The amount of power that the women were given in the effort is remarkable--they were nearly always the ones who carried the weapons that men used to carry out plans. I thought it particularly significant considering the amount of restrictions placed on women in other aspects of Muslim culture.I also saw non-Venice Film Festival movies. Fear not! On Saturday, Laura America, Vicky, Neil, Adam, and I went to the cinema to see Tropic Thunder. It was pretty...okay. I thought it was going to be a lot better than it was considering its high rating on RottenTomatoes.com and also just because I had only read good things about it. (Although, Adam had told me he only heard mediocre things. So, he wins.) Everyone in the audience thought everything was hilarious, and I will admit that it did have its moments. Tom Cruise was really funny in it. I actually wouldn't have even known it was him unless I had read that Entertainment Weekly Article about the whole film. On Friday in my American Underground Cinema course we watched at least six films by the experimental director Stan Brakhage. All of his movies are silent, which is not to say that it was silent in the way that people usually think of silent movies (which is not silent at all, but merely has an unsynched soundtrack). These were totally devoid of sound, which worked as a way to intensify the images. There was nothing to distract from the images and really made you reflect. We watched Window Water Baby Moving, which shows the birthing process. Without leaving anything to the imagination. (She actually said some people watch the movie in biology courses. That's how rrreal the images are.) Then we watched The Act of Seeing with One's Own Eyes, which is made entirely of footage from actual autopsies. They're both really graphic. It was only after making us sit through these two films that my professor announced that they were not representative of Brakhage's work at all. He usually works with painted film, which is really quite lovely. He made this one just after he was diagnosed with cancer. I really enjoyed it. Mothlight, however, is his most shown one. In fact, my professor says that in Introductory level courses about avant-garde cinema, they always show it. (He describes this as "what a moth sees in its lifetime if black was white and white was black.) Apparently the correct way to view it is to watch it on 16mm and then examine the film itself, which includes actual pieces of moth pressed between the film. (I've become a bit of a snob going to Wash U where they make sure to only show films if the original film is available. Everything we watch here is on DVD. Tant pis.)
Saturday I had to watch The Birth of a Nation, which was three hours and ten minutes of terrible. It's based on Dixon's novel The Clansmen, which essentially glorifies the creation of the KKK during the Reconstruction era. I really have no more to say on the subject. I'm not even going to include a clip because no one should have to sit through that. But here's a quotation that pretty much sums up the movie's message: "The former enemies of the North and South are united again in common defense of their Aryan birthright." D.W. Griffith (the movie's director) and his whole posse are too racist to be fo'real.
This week was quite an adventure in socializing! On Tuesday (since I have no lectures/screenings) I met up with Kawai. Many of you may remember Kawai from her previous appearance as Alex's BFF. Why, yes. It's the one and the same. Only she's blonde now. (When I asked her why, she said she gets sad when she has dark hair. And "for her sanity" she keeps it light.) We started off by showing her my room and then we set off to take the bus (which Kawai is in love with) to Piccadilly Circus. Kawai insisted on us having tea at Fortnum & Mason, which was delightful. Unfortunately, London seems to think it's okay to start getting ready for Christmas, and it irks me quite a bit. The entire bottom floor was fooling customers into purchasing white, sparkly ornaments. I just wasn't having it. (It's not just 300 year old department stores that are too pumped for the jelly-bellied pimp in the red suit, restaurants all over town are proclaiming that they are accepting Christmas reservations. It's kind of gnarly.) Afterwards, we winded our way over to Chinatown where we actually went to a Korean restaurant. Kawai's still a vegetarian. Somewhat non sequitur, but you wanted to know--I'm sure. Afterwards we went over to Oxford Circus on the bus and encountered one of my biggest problems with London: people are ALWAYS out on the streets. I really think that people should be in working more often. I'm not kidding. You really have to work at navigating the throngs of people. Anyway, Kawai and I first stopped at the biggest Primark in London (maybe--the world!?). Kawai wanted me to make sure to tell people this and then followed that instruction up with "That's really ghetto fabulous." (Primark is like Forever 21 but with waaay more people and a home section. A.K.A. Chaotic like Britney and Kevin.) I came away with a cardigan for £8. Then we went across the street to this other store that is slightly pricier but with waay less people so it's worth it. I got a pair of Houndstooth flats. Successsss. Kawai thought we had earned a drink so we went over to Waterloo where there was some bar she had wanted to go to, and then we separated.
On Wednesday, Kawai and I met up to go to a pub for some eats and drank. Remember a few posts ago when I tried to get a panini at that pub but then sheepishly left before I got up the nerve? Well, that's where we went! I got the sandwich I had wanted before, and it was really kind of disappointing, but oh well. Food in London, in general, is not much to talk about. Actually, that's not entirely true--the non-British food is quite good. I don't really think British people like to eat (probs why Londoners are so thin)
and so they make their food really quite bland. Anyway, after Kawai had finished her cheese plate we separated. I went back home to get ready to meet up with Lili and go to Cristina's housewarming party. (That's right! It was essentially an NDA reunion on an exceptionally small scale but in a foreign country, so I think it all evens out.) We haphazardly met up at the Green Park platform and hopped back on the train and rode out to Zone 3 (Big Deal!) to get to Cristina's house. It was really fun to be all together and Lili was tweaking out at how British Cristina sounds now. We ended up going back on the tube with another American (Lili's new BFF Gabriel). Lili and Gabe were quite acrobatic on the ride home, as you can see. I have to say that the highlight of the night was when a Briton (Oliver from the coast) told Lili and I that we didn't look American because we didn't dress as badly as Americans do. I think that's just about the biggest compliment I've received in a long while. (To prove his statement, the other American in my class was wearing sweats, a sweatshirt, and Uggs in screening today. Disaster. Londoners do not wear sweats to class. That is all trash--i.e. all American.)Friday, Kawai and I met up to go to Borough Market, which is this outdoor market, à la Farmers Market behind my hizzle. It was pretty awesome and Kawai got this vegetarian burger that she said tasted "really natural" and I got a snausage roll with cranberry sauce. It was okay. I also got cake, which was better than the Sainsbury's cake but I'm still on a quest for glorious cake magic. She got yogurt and chocolate covered nuts. That night I ended up meeting up with Cristina and her housemates at a gay nightclub for Paolo's birthday. (Paolo is Cristina's Italian housemate. In fact, their house is quite diverse. The facebook invitation said their housewarming party was being thrown by "An American bimbo. A Romanian pickpocket. An Italian mafioso. A common Northerner. And a Welsh sheep shagger.) Anyway, all I realized is that the Brits really DO love their eighties more than is probably necessary. But the club was ridiculous in that it had about 7 different rooms all with different names: The Love Lounge, the Indie Room, the Pop Lounge, etc.
On Sunday, I was meant to meet up with a girl from Wash U at King's Cross Train Station to take a train to Cambridge. I left my building and started to go through a cordoned off area to get to the tube station when a police officer came up to me to point out that the Police Line was there to keep me out of the area. Whoops! (The story is that some guy was shot in the head outside the nightclub in the tunnel that's down the street. SeOne. It's actually the club where KCL hosted the Autumn Ball that my fresher floormates went to on Wednesday when I was at Sin. Anyway, it happened at about 5:30 in the morning and seems to be pre-meditated. DON'T WORRY!) Anyway, when I got on the train I realized that I had forgotten my phone in my room, and when I didn't see her on the platform, I figured I would just take the train and meet her as she alighted on the other end. Too bad when I got off and waited, she was nowhere to be found. So, I figured since I was already there I might as well make the most of the time there and so I set off to explore the wonders of this town that Pauline Frommer's says "would barely have a pulse without its university." When I started walking down the main drag, which was about a mile from the train station nothing was open. So I looked at one of the randomly located maps and decided to walk to Castle Mound because who doesn't love a good castle? Well, I walked along the street probably another mile and a half until I looked around me and realized the street name had changed and I had no clue where Castle Mound was. So I turned back around and walked back to the city center and basically just went shopping and purchased nothing. On the way back to the city center, I passed by Round
Church, which I later found out was constructed in the 12th century and is the oldest of four remaining circular churches in England. Awesome! When I was back at the "heart of Cambridge," I did go to an open-air market and purchased some Jamaican ginger bread. It's good, and tastes really fresh. I was walking back toward the train station when I stopped into "MannaMexico" for some eats. Well, I certainly wouldn't have called this Mexican food for the gods, but different strokes. They did provide me with a "salsa" (a.k.a. brownish-red sauce) that nearly burned my tongue off. Good thing I didn't ask them to make it spicy! So, then I consulted my guidebook and saw that I wasn't too far from the one thing that Frommer said shouldn't be missed: some stained glass windows at King's College. I walked the mile over to the college to find out that the college would not be open for another hour, and what was I going to do in this town for an hour? (Besides it would have cost £5 to be inside from 1:15-2:15 and who knows if I would have been able to take photos?) So, I bagged it and picked up a delicious chocolate petit-four and headed back to the train station. When I got back I immediately took off my boots which had been giving me blisters as I trudged back and forth, and then took of my jeans to put on more comfortable bottoms. Well, I looked at my legs and noticed that they were ridiculously blue, and I thought I had walked too much and my veins were about to explode. Then I realized it was the first time I had worn my jeans, and it was the dye bleeding. NOT my insides. Anyway, did I mention it was raining the whole time I was there?
Oh well! An experience is an experience! And now I've done it! (I don't want you to think that it was complete bust. It really does have some lovely architecture and could be a dream come true on a day with good weather.)
Tonight I went on a Jack the Ripper walking tour with some Wash U kiddies. It was interesting since the tour guide was really funny. But it was difficult to understand his explanations of theories surrounding
Jack's real identity. (And they certainly are numerous!) At the beginning of the tour he warned us to not respond to the "chemically unfortunate" people standing outside pubs who usually make remarks to the tour as it goes by. Sure enough, as we walked past the pub that the guide said Kate Moss had been linked at the nostril with someone a few years back, some guy slurs to us, "He didn't do it. He was a lesbian." Because lesbians don't kill people? What I did gather from the tour, however, is that Jack the Ripper was mosdef not the guy to meet on a walk home from your prostitution post. Interesting factoid: the average prostitute was old, puffy faced, and missing a few teeth. She wore steel toed workmen's boots to deal with difficult customers or competition and would have been in a few fights in her day. Additionally, sex on the wall was called the "four penny knee trembler." Cute, right? Afterwards, Linh (the girl I was supposed to meet in Cambridge) and I went to a pub near our halls and she told me she read that they charge money for attractions in Cambridge because they want to discourage tourists from coming. It's working!
British Pronunciation for Beginners
1) Schedule=shedjule. Cristina thinks that this pronunciation sounds both lazy and sexual.
2) Hegemony=hegemony (assuming American would be hejemony) I don't know why they pronounce it with a "g" sound. It's ugly.
3) Machismo=muhckeezmo. Do you think they also pronounce it "Macko Macko Maaaan. I've got to be a Macko Man"?
4) Process=prOcess (American would be praw-cess) It's awkward, but not out of line.
5) Herb=Herb (that means the "h" is heard) I'm okay with this pronunciation as Sister Viviana told us about it in seventh grade, but Laura America seems to find real problem with it.
6) Tube=tyoube (I wouldn't bring this up but I got redirected one day, and I said, "How am I supposed to get to the tube stop?" And the police officer said, "Well, I can help you get to the tYOUbe stop. But not the tube stop." Rude.
7) Taboo=tuh-boo
8) Oedipus=Eedipus
British/American Glossary
1) Jelly=American Jell-O.
a) Jam=American jelly
b) So I think that in "The Night Before Christmas" maybe she meant "his belly jiggled like bowl full of jam." Who knows?
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