The Big Short

I like films, I like reading, and those who visit my blog know that I do, they may even think - too much is too much and you are not a film critic. I even do not fancy myself as one, but write my film reviews nevertheless. Do I need to apologise or explain why I do it? No I do not, but I will.

I like writing; this is perhaps the main reason why I do. I also have a tendency to analyse whatever can be analysed. Analyse and then synthesise. This is a great thing to do with friends inclined the same way; I do not have many such opportunities and I do not want to spoil friendships by overcomplicating friendly exchange. So, writing seems to be a substitute for analyzing things that seem important to me at a time. Posting is like sharing with an unknown. A bit of a homemade mysticism here. I must highlight that there is an evidence of having one constant reader, thank you Ramana. I also appreciate comments that may be stirring and answering them is often challenging. They keep me honest and self-critical.  I may not need the last one all that much as I may have more of that in my system than it is healthy.

It was a long introduction to my real subject The Big Short, the film I saw yesterday. I wanted to see most of the films nominated for Oscars, but I have not managed it. The Oscars are today and this is my last chance to express my views without being subconsciously influenced.

                      

The Big Short moved me and scared me. I initially thought that this is not my type of a film and I was tossing which film I shout see, 45 Years or Big Short. I am so glad that I saw the one I was hesitating about. It is not a documentary, but the story was written by life of financial circles of the Wall Street. It is again about financial crisis of 2007-2008 caused by build-up of the housing market. I have seen Inside Job a couple of years ago, a documentary on the same subject. The same subject but a totally different film. The Big Short is even described as a comedy-drama.  I must say that the comedy part was not that obvious to me, but the drama factor hit me hard. It became so plain that we live in a very uncertain world and that our financial security may collapse in no time and even if we do not make mistakes in our financial decisions. The financial world is ruled by people who do not think about consequences of their decisions and trades. They do not stop and think what about others. Their world is myopic but their action have great impact on financial security of so many. The film made me think that our lives are more vulnerable than I had imagined.

                              

I came to think about The Hateful Eight showing hateful American characteristics. The Big Short shows those characteristics in action and in   contemporary setting. Maybe, except for racism. But even then I can not remember a black person in all those Wall Street crowds of pumped up people living brutally, egoistically and fast.

My old question of – How to live Prime Minister? – came to the fore again. How to live honestly and peacefully? Going to Byron Bay? Putting blinkers on? Worry constantly?

My two favourite films so far are The Spotlight and The Big Short. The Big Short 9 out of 10 for me.

Was I a communist?

I have just listened to Polish radio having my Aussie breakfast. It is a very turbulent and sad time in Poland. People reminisce and worry. The people I have in mind are intellectual and/or moral role models for me. I have kept those people in high regard. Now with political changes they feel that the country is going in a tragically wrong direction. The subjects of the discussions are generally depressing and I should not really poison myself with that type of news. But I can not stop it in spite of numerous promises I give myself. In the last couple of days the main news subject is Lech Walesa. So called historians are pushing him off the pedestal, the place he deserves in eyes of many. Mine as well. Not so much a pedestal maybe as a luminous place in the country history and gratitude of all Polish people. This is really not my subject of writing today, but the worry about Walesa, his health, pride, safety and wellbeing makes me think about him excessively right now.

                               

Listening to various discussions about experience in communistic times brings back memories. They are happy, actually, memories. Not that the times were particularly joyful but my youth was free of worries. It was very difficult to get many everyday items and food. Not that I was ever hungry and I have not seen really hungry people then, but it was difficult to buy things. There were queues in every shop for anything. One bought things when they were available not when one needed them. And we queued for everything. I loved queues in bookshops. One could have a really good conversation sometimes and plenty of time to expand on any subject while waiting to get to the counter. There were the times when I did not do comfort eating and I felt I really did not need or particularly liked food. At the same time due to my parents rather privileged situation and my father’s initiative there were the times I ate best beef filets, partridges, quails, crayfish and absolutely organic vegetables. And I even did not understand that it was anything special about it. It must be a bit confusing for people who did not live in Poland in the communistic times or it may even come across as confabulation.

I remember one of my first visits to some very civilized Scandinavian family in Sydney. In fact it was my only visit at their home as I misbehaved very badly. I understand that they did not want to have much to do with a rude communist, I appeared to be. It started with introducing me to civilization and sympathizing with horrible things I must have experienced. I tried to correct some of their impressions, but with prolonged sympathetic treatment my pride and frustration woke up. At the same time my English could not cope with the challenge of the moment. I was missing the right words. Responding to descriptions of horrific communistic times and my  miserable life in Poland, I used the only argument that came to mind. It was - BS. I used it more than once as I was really angry. Now, I blush a bit remembering the time and inappropriateness of my defense. It was silly on many levels. One of many funny mistakes and inabilities of youth combined with Polish temper...

There was a time I was seen as a communist and this was rather dangerous to my happiness and could have finish in heartbreak.  When I was introduced to my future in-laws, they focused on my Polish background not knowing much about me. Even if they really knew me, I was still a sort of an oddball, at least in a conservative Swedish society. My future husband met with greeting of his father: I fought communists all my life and you are bringing one to MY home!!!  It was all happening behind the scenes and I was not aware of how controversial my visit at this civilized home was. The redeeming factors were my small feet (I still wonder why it was important) and correct behaviour combined with good skills of eating crayfish on a festive Swedish yabby night.

                          

Crayfish reminds me of a story, I particularly like, told by my uncle. The uncle came from an aristocratic family that in the times before the 2^nd World War lived in the eastern part of Poland, now belonging to Ukraine. When I mentioned crayfish in one of  family dinner conversations, we heard comment muttered under his breath: “When in my family the fish pond was drained off water, we ate the fish and gave crayfish to the village rabble”. It is all relative and this is beautiful. Some think crayfish is wonderful, some think it is rubbish.

Interesting what morning musing can result in. Maybe this is a function of many memories being stored in my memory bank?

The Spotlight

Spotlight

Now is the time before Oscars and my local cinema program is richer than usually. As the result, I have seen more films in the recent times than earlier.  I have seen The Danish Girl and my personal Oscar for the best actor goes to Eddie Redmayne. I am also rating costumes in Carol and The Danish Girl equal first.  

         

 esterday, I have seen The Spotlight and I am moved and even angry. I do not think that the film itself is artistically particularly significant, but the message is of great value, in my opinion. It is an eye opening message; I hope it opens those eyes that would prefer to be closed on what is happening in the Catholic Church.  I may be reacting to the film stronger than I normally do or maybe I should, but it touches my personal experience. No, I was not molested, but I was hurt in my feelings by the clergy and I was confused by evident hypocrisy when I was very young and forming my views on what is good and what not.

Rotten Tomatoes says : “SPOTLIGHT tells the riveting true story of the Pulitzer Prize-winning Boston Globe investigation that would rock the city and cause a crisis in one of the world's oldest and most trusted institutions. When the newspaper's tenacious "Spotlight" team of reporters delves into allegations of abuse in the Catholic Church, their year-long investigation uncovers a decades-long cover-up at the highest levels of Boston's religious, legal, and government establishment, touching off a wave of revelations around the world.”

The film shows bluntly that the church is guilty of crimes of molesting children, hiding it, condoning future crimes even by the same people, protecting the criminals and allowing them to continue preaching on morality. To me this is horrible and unfortunately, I do not think much will change in my life time.  So, I am angry. I hope many more people will get angry and maybe the situation will change eventually.

                                        

My personal experience turned me against the Catholic Church, but people need spirituality in their lives. I know, I do. So the disappointed, disillusioned and hurt ones need a new religion or at least a new belief. I found some affinity in Buddhism, but I was brought up as a catholic and it was rather painful to be forced to find an alternative. I was still lucky that I was excommunicated after a divorce and   was forced to find a new way. Otherwise I may have been as so many others shutting my eyes on the church hypocrisy and crimes. So many people defend themselves from losing their false spiritual support by doing that.  In my case I was literally thrown out of the church and humiliated in front of people who were at the time of my confession in the church. It was just horrible. What I still have problems with is that I was offered a “better deal” by a church representative in Sydney. Does that mean that rules change from country to country? In the same church? Or that they sometimes change over the years? The last eventuality may be acceptable. Anyhow, I have decided not to take a better offer as far communion after a divorce is concerned and now simply believe in honesty, kindness, integrity and few other things. Something like my personal religion and faith in goodness.

Back to movies, I rate Carol 6 out of 10, The Danish Girl 7 out of 10 and Spotlight 7 out of 10. 

P.S. I have read many positive reviews on The Spotlight since I wrote my original post.  The last Sunday the film received four Satellite Awards of International Press Academy including the best picture. Looks that my personal opinion does not agree with the general one and the film is nominated also for a number of Oscar awards including the best film, Mark Ruffalo as actor in supporting role, Rachel McAdams as actress in supporting role, directing, film editing and original screenplay. Even though I mainly focused on the subject of the film, I am happy that others have not been blinded as I possibly was.

My Bridge Adventure

This is not going to be about Sydney Harbour Bridge or any other construction but about the card game.  Quite coincidentally, a couple of years ago, I joined the local bridge club – Trumps. It was on recommendation of my neighbour who used the membership of the club to get cheaper travel insurance. Since I was about to travel I thought – why not… and I joined the club not intending to play. The insurance deal worked well.

As it sometimes happens, a coincidence may lead to something important. This is how it was this time. I used to play bridge when I was a student and then life happened. Marriage, changing countries, intensive work, setting a home, then setting another home… There was no time for bridge and nobody around me was interested in card games. I always loved cards so I played patience from time to time. And now I was a member of a bridge club and even got regular information on club activities. One day I thought, why not pay a visit to the club and find out what is going on there. I have been paying for being a member, after all.

I started to play as a beginner and realized that I do not know much about the game. It is not a rubber game that I knew years ago but something called duplicate bridge. The rules of play and behaviour are very different to the ones I remembered. But most of all bidding is done in a totally different way to the one I once practiced. It started as a confusing fun. For a year, I played once or twice a week not having a regular partner. My game was not to bad, I still remembered few things and using logic helped as well. For bidding I used my own convention called common sense and this of course is not type of bridge one plays in clubs. I did not know the language of bidding and I still know very little of it, but I am on my way to learn.

We stayed in Waldorf Leura Gardens. Nice old fashioned place.

                                     

Few weeks ago I came across information about a bridge holiday in Blue Mountains and again I thought - why not… I asked the club director if my current bridge level will be sufficient and if a lack of a partner would make me unsuitable and I got re-assurance that I will be fine and welcome. He is a very kind man. When I started to assess my move I got cold feet but my shy tries to get out of the deal met with reassurance that I will be fine. So, last week I went to Leura being very nervous. The nervousness was fully justified and in fact it was harder than I had expected. I managed, but the feeling of inadequacy was overwhelming and justified. The gap between me and the rest of the players was enormous. I guess it was OK in a spinach type of way. It did not taste decent but it was good for me. I was aware that at times I did not understand what I was told (in the bidding language) and that my answers were often surprising and confusing. I had my better moments when my brain was not cooked to destruction, but they were not that frequent.

On positive side, being exhausted I slept very well each night.

Have I learned a lot of bridge in the process? Not really, but I have learned a lot of bridge etiquette and made a good plan how to keep learning. I also met a lot of great people and found out things about Australians and their life style. I especially liked people from the country. Old fashioned, in the best way, type of people. Kind, down to earth, straight forward, with great sense of humour and, I would imagine, honest and trustworthy.

This is how I spent four days. Hmm...

                                     

But the most positive outcome is being invited as a bridge partner. My club is divided into two rooms. One for beginners as myself and one for bridge grown ups. I have been playing in the kindergarten but now, to my delight,  once a week I will be paying with a very charming lady and a good bridge player as an intermediate. I am thrilled and very proud.

I have jumped into deep water but I have not sunk. This is some kind of achievement even if my ego was seriously bruised.