Times of Fear

It is hot in Sydney! The third week night temperatures do not fall lower than 22 Celsius. And this only about 4 a.m. I never liked heat, but now it is difficult for me to go through days and be active in a normal fashion. My ways of coping with the high temperature are to play bridge in air conditioned rooms and go to movies. I can not complain as I like both very much. I am writing it in a way of an excuse, as if I needed one. I just came back home after seeing Trumbo and feel like writing about it sheltered from heat by my home air conditioning. 

The film is about Dalton Trumbo, a famous Hollywood screenwriter, who was blacklisted and jailed for his communistic political beliefs and declared an enemy of America. It is difficult to believe that Dalton Trumbo wrote the screenplay for Roman Holiday as a ghost writer and was not able to claim the academy award as his name was not included in the film credits.  They were olden days of forties and fifties of the last century.

Trumbo is a very good story. It is surprising how life writes stories that seem unbelievable. The Revenant seemed to me to be an inadequate fiction until I was straighten out and told that something similar really had happened.

Bryan Cranston is really brilliant. He became known through his role of Walter White in Breaking Bad. His role of an accidental drug dealer, he plays in the serial, is fascinating and he gained then a well deserved world recognition.  Breaking Bad is not my type of television. Too violent and the subjects of drugs and life threatening illness are not my favourite subjects. I would have crossed it out if it was not for a recommendation of a friend whose judgment I respect. Thank you Hans the Hiker.

Times of fear. This term was used in the film and I realized that this is a universal subject, still current in many countries. It is current in Poland. The new government clears the decks of many cultural institutions. Radio, television, films… and not only that of course. People are worried about losing jobs and finding new ones. This happens due to different political views and has nothing to do with skills, abilities, truck record or achievements.   Trumbo shows how devastating being on a black list may be for the people affected and their families.

Times of fear are horrible times. They destroy people and their characters. 

My personal rating of the film 9 out of 10.

45 Years

The film moved me. I stayed in my place for quite a while after the last scene of the film while credits were rolling. It finished abruptly and I had to adjust to the reality. It took a while. My attention was totally with the film from the first scenes, but I must have been simply spellbound at the end of it. Charlotte Rampling is really an exceptional actress; she has aged magnificently and with dignity. As one should; age with dignity, I mean. I did not know her early career, but looking at old photos she was extremely sexy and beautiful. It looks that she must have raised some eye brows and scandals. Now in her late sixties she is beautiful in a mature way and she can be sexy as well. A role model, really.

Before

and now

The film is about a 45 years relationship of Kate and Geoff. The couple is planning their 45 anniversary party. They are a happy couple. Geoff is a bit absent at times and Kate active and confident. Then, Geoff receives news about his first love body being discovered frozen in the icy glaciers. He withdraws into his inner world of memories. Kate is disturbed by the situation. Her confidence is slowly turning into concern and confusion. The story of her husband’s first love happened a very long time ago, but Geoff’s present preoccupation with the past surprises and bothers her.  She questions solidity of the basis of their long happy marriage. Can she really consider it a happy marriage? The last scenes of the film show Kate desperately lonely among friends attending the anniversary party and dancing in the arms of her love, Geoff. They dance to their music – Smoke Gets in Your Eyes.

                             

For me 10 out of 10 for the film and both actors Charlotte Rampling and Tom Courtenay. Oh, OK;  maybe 8 for Tom.

My personal experience is that we create image of people close to us so they meet our needs, fulfill our dreams and reflect our own values. If we are lucky and blind for sufficiently long time we can live happily ever after. Otherwise, we are faced with disillusionment. It may lead to pragmatically staying in the relationship or moving on hoping that the next relationship will be the happy one. Choosing life on one’s own is another option, not such a bad one, it seems to me.

There have been friendships and relationships in my life that I idealized and depended on. Not many happy endings, I must say, but I have experienced many happy years.  This is how I see it now. We travel though life together with somebody. Sometimes even 45 years. We are happy with our partners enhanced by our imagination. It depends only on how long they play their role well and how long they want to play the role of our ideal partners. Then some of us change the life travel companions… and so it goes. This seems a bit naïve but it happens to idealists before they decide to travel solo and only for short trips with some coincidental companions. I like this model. Some idealism is still preserved this way. 

Post Oscars musings

Finally Oscars are behind us. The decisions have been made. I got carried away this year with seeing maybe too many nominated films.  In fact I have seen many more films than I had intended. If I was not that enthusiastic I perhaps would not have seen either The Spotlight or The Big Short. As it turned out they had been two of my very favourite films. Then I saw 45 Years and now this is my absolutely favourite film. Still I would have been surprised if it got an Oscar. Maybe except for Charlotte Rampling. She was nominated for the best actress, but I somehow would not have expected her to win. I will write about the film in one of my future posts. The film moved me and made me think about human nature, life and relationships in particular.

My personal approach to films is hinged on their messages and psychological content. Aesthetics also have big value to me. I like to learn from films and clarify some complex life issues. I like to me moved, I appreciate subtle humour and  enjoy sharp, intelligent dialogue. I do not know much about technical aspects of making films.  I could not appreciate the fact that The Revenant was filmed only in natural light. After this year, however, I may extend my observations to some technical issues. Who knows?

I made very clear in my previous posts that I am not a fan of The Revenant. Just the opposite. I even do not like Di Caprio. I do not think Oscars should be given to recognize actors’ physical tortures. It was Di Caprio’s personal choice to play horrifically hard scenes. Was that dictated by his overgrown ambition? If so, this is not pretty. Just at the beginning of the film we are faced with the tremendously brutal scene of a bear mutilating the hero. This turned me off the whole film. I even did not have a chance to get to know the film characters and identify with any of them. I was not given a chance to like them or dislike them. I had to face brutal physicality and I coped with it badly so I may have missed more important aspects of the film.

I recently heard that The Revenant is a spiritual film. Coelho and Garcia Marquez  are mentioned as inspiration. Even if I missed the whole point, I am not going to see the film again. It was too painful an experience to repeat it.

I am very happy for recognition of my two favourites The Spotlight (the best film award) and The Big Short (the best adapted screen play).  And of course I am very happy that Morricone  got his Oscar for The Hateful Eight best original music score.

I have not seen The Mad Max or The Martian. For some reason I do not like fantasy or science fiction as a genre of literature or films. I tried to read some fantasy books and I even enjoyed it. Then it became all too much for me. It seemed to be an exercise void of value to me, waste of time really. Maybe time of appreciation will come later?

I have not seen The Trumbo or The Room. At least not yet. This means that my opinion on Oscars for the best actor and actress are not based on sufficient data. Nobody, in my mind, was really good enough. Maybe Eddie Redmayne? Maybe Kate Blanchett?

There are views that Eddie Redmayne played the role of Einar/Lili with only three facial expressions. A sharp comment and, to some extent, I accept it. Except for the scene when Einar realizes that in some way, deep down, he is a woman. This scene was played subtly and masterfully without help of the criticized faces.  Einar was scared, surprised and confused. The playful cloth changes suddenly become more… Great acting.

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.