Not a Pretty Picture

a film by Martha Coolidge

In 1962, when she was 16, Martha Coolidge was date raped by an older student of the same high school. Recreating the circumstances of the director’s ordeal, this 1976 docudrama is, just as its name suggests, not a pretty picture. Molly Haskell wrote in 2024:

Given the rise in reported incidents of rape and the omnipresence of the subject across social media in the intervening years, you’d think Not a Pretty Picture would have lost its power to shock. It hasn’t. Coolidge’s seminal film is a fascinating window onto another time, one that we would like to think of as kinder and gentler, but alas, Not a Pretty Picture also seems horribly contemporary, shudder-inducing in its relevance...

So it is. Michele Manenti, herself a rape survivor, plays Martha at 16. Jim Carrington is scarily convincing as Curly the rapist. But there’s light too. Lot of it is provided by Martha’s best friend, Anne Mundstuk, as herself.

This film, Coolidge’s debut feature, was shown as part of the cycle Diversidad, Igualdad y Cultura by Filmoteca Canaria and Instituto Canario de Desarrollo Cultural.

And Then There Were None

a film by René Clair
based on a novel by Agatha Christie

To me, this 1945 movie — the first cinematic adaptation of the classic novel — was not as much a mystery, let alone film noir, as a (black) comedy. According to Wikipedia, this is what René Clair wanted to make all along. Jolly good fun throughout.

The film is full of familiar faces; alas, I couldn’t recall where exactly I saw them.

Diez negritos opened the cycle Nada es lo que parece. 50 años sin Agatha Christie organised by Asociación de Cine Vértigo. Curiously, the Spanish title is faithful to the original title of the novel although the film features figurines of Indians (and was released in the UK as Ten Little Indians).

Orlando, ma biographie politique

a film by Paul B. Preciado

According to Wikipedia,

ARTE France reached out to Preciado in hopes of producing a documentary focused on his work as a philosopher. Preciado rejected the idea and instead jokingly suggested that the film should be an adaptation of Virginia Woolf’s Orlando: A Biography in an attempt to shut down the conversation. To his surprise, ARTE France agreed and asked Preciado to make the film.

And good thing they did. The film is neither a documentary nor adaptation nor, despite the name, biography, but a process, metamorphosis, transition — like those of the film’s many intelligent, charming, and funny protagonists. And yes, it’s political. Enough said. Watch it. Enjoy it.

Orlando, mi biografía política opens the fifth cycle Diversidad, Igualdad y Cultura organised by Filmoteca Canaria and Instituto Canario de Desarrollo Cultural.

(Almost) free live music and stuff, May 2026

Some stuff that I saw in Vitoria, Santander, Torrelavega and Las Palmas de Gran Canaria.

• 9 May: «Cenizas de Oro» @ Centro Cívico Langraiz-Oka, Tres de Marzo Parkea, 1, Nanclares de la Oca / Langraiz Oka
  A comedy by the amateur theatre group No Me Claves Tus Puñales. Not exactly free as €2 donation (for an NGO to be determined) was requested, but quite worth it.

  

• 15 May: Cantabria en Corto 2025 @ Filmoteca de Cantabria Mario Camus, Calle Bonifaz, 6, Santander
  The programme included Relato del niño que estuvo allí by Sergio Ruiz García; Solo es cuestión de tiempo by Carlos Martínez Pérez; “Solo los muertos se quedan by Alejandro Renedo; Una playa by Juan Carlos Cabañas Soto and Luis Paredes; Instrucciones para quedarse by Caque Trueba; and Wounded Light by Abril Catalina Beascoechea.

  

• 16 May: V Raw Market @ Plaza Mayor, Torrelavega
  Organised by Escuela de Arte Roberto Orallo (Puente San Miguel, Cantabria), this annual event allows the students of the school to present and market the work created during their training. The highlight was a concert of Cantabrian rock band The Haze.

  

• 24 May: Ajódar Poetry Jazz @ Sala Faro, Calle Concejal Manuel Rodríguez Costas, 1, Las Palmas de Gran Canaria
  The only event of the Deriva Jazz Timur and I attended. We were not impressed. Ajódar Duo, whose members did not bother to introduce themselves, played some jazz (badly) and recited some poetry (worse). On the brighter note, we have discovered a new venue in just a five-minute walk from us.
• 26 May: «Gran poder a de mandar o mar et todo los ventos» @ Casa de Colón, Calle Colón, 1
  Dedicated to the quincentenary of the death of Elcano, this concert featured “music around the Iberian circumnavigation routes”. Pedro Bonet employed 14 different recorders — copies of medieval, Renaissance and Baroque models — to play a bedazzling array of works composed and/or collected by Alfonso X el Sabio, Diego Ortiz, Pieter de Vois, Thomas Edward Bowdich, Hans Sloane, Joseph-Marie Amiot, William Hamilton Bird and many others. Part of the cycle Música Antigua en el Patio.

  

• 28 May: «Tiempo de Zafra» @ Auditorio José Antonio Ramos, Parque Doramas
  La Banda Sinfónica de Las Palmas de Gran Canaria featuring Domingo Luis Rodríguez Oramas “El Colorao” on timple and voices of Tania Gil and Pedro Manuel Afonso. The concert included a performance of Zafra, a work for timple and symphony orchestra composed by Laura Vega.

  

And exhibitions:

• 7—31 May: «Color, memoria y gesto» @ Sala de Exposiciones Mauro Muriedas, Calle Pedro Alonso Revuelta, 5, Torrelavega
  Works by Débora Regalado and Alejandro Mesurado.

  

• 8 May — 5 July: «Wetlands» @ El Palacete del Embarcadero, Muelle de Calderón, Santander
  Works by Paula Santomé.

  

Goodbye, May.

So

by Peter Gabriel

The only record of Peter Gabriel I ever owned on vinyl was manufactured in the USSR and entitled simply «Питер Гейбриэл» (apparently, they weren’t so sure how to translate So to Russian, and the spelling «Гейбриэл» must have looked innocent back then).

I also had a curious double compilation album Greenpeace Breakthrough (1989) which included the So opener «Красный дождь» (Red Rain). I completely forgot that, in addition to Peter Gabriel (now as Питер Гэбриэл), it featured Sting, Grateful Dead (Грейтфул Дэд), Sade (Шаде) and Dire Straits (Дайер Стрейтс)!

About the same time, I first spotted Sledgehammer and Big Time music videos on 2×2, the first commercial TV channel in the USSR. Man I was impressed.

The covers of the So songs abound. I love Sledgehammer by Morgan James...

...and Mercy Street by Rosegarden Funeral Party.

But nobody makes Peter Gabriel covers better than Gabriel himself, with a little help from his friends. My favourite So re-interpretations are Don’t Give Up as a duet with Tracy Chapman...

...and In Your Eyes with Youssou N’Dour, Angélique Kidjo and Soweto Gospel Choir.

Rising

by Rainbow

If I had to choose one record from not-that-large Rainbow’s discography, that would be Rising. (Sorry, Difficult to Cure, my first Rainbow love.) I still remember the first time I read about this album («Радуга восходит») in the tremendously popular Soviet magazine Ровесник:

Наверное, это лучшая пластинка Ричи Блэкмора до сих пор. Не то чтобы она содержала какие-нибудь музыкальные откровения (единственное, возможно, исключение — «Старгейзер»; Блэкмор говорит, что первоначально написал ее как пьесу для виолончели). Главное достоинство диска — необыкновенная мощь и динамизм. Образно говоря, он сделан в нокаутирующем стиле, вполне достойном страшного костистого кулака, изображенного на обложке. «Мы записывали этот альбом около десяти месяцев, и у меня нет причин быть им недовольным», — сухо заметил Блэкмор по поводу успеха пластинки.

Геннадий Быков, «Радуга Ричи Блэкмора»

Even then I couldn’t agree with the author of this publication. What did he mean saying “not that it contained any musical revelations”? Even without Stargazer — oh blasphemy! — there are enough revelations for a dozen of rock albums.

Rising is one of those albums that are best on vinyl. Why? Because there are two sides, that’s why. The epic Stargazer is not the fifth track — it’s the first track on Side B. You can’t really listen to it properly just after Do You Close Your Eyes. You have to flip the record, and, better still, use the intermission to refill your cup/mug/glass. And then, when A Light in the Black is done, flip it back to Side A (refill the cup etc.) and listen to Tarot Woman — another epic. Also, as it is the case of In the Court of the Crimson King, the cover art it totally worth it. That fist, it has to be that big. If I ever own a turntable again, Rising and ITCOTKC will have to come with it.

So far, I didn’t hear any Rising song cover that would beat the original. Still, there are some good ones. My favourite Stargazers are that by Cincinnati Vampires featuring vocals of Melody Cristea and fantastic Kalonica Nicx on drums, and another one by Contra Bass, a kids band from Vinnytsia, Ukraine. It’s nice to see young people playing decent music.

¿Qué me quieres, amor?

by Manuel Rivas
translated by Dolores Vilavedra

An award-winning collection of sixteen short stories by the author of whom I never heard before and who happens to be, among other things, a founding member of Greenpeace España. I hope it is as joy to read in its original Galician (which I don’t speak) as this Spanish translation. My favourites are Conga, conga, La chica del pantalón pirata and Un saxo en la niebla.

After finishing the book, I learned that three of the stories were adapted into a film La lengua de las mariposas directed by José Luis Cuerda, which is now on my to-watch list.

Mi tío se llamaba Amaro y se había muerto por lo menos ocho veces antes de morirse. Era un especialista en morirse y siempre lo hacía con mucha dignidad. Volvía de la muerte perfumado con jabones La Toja, peinado como el acordeonista de la Orquesta Mallo, con un traje nuevo Príncipe de Gales y con una historia sorprendente. En una ocasión hizo una descripción muy detallada del menú del Banquete Celestial, en el que, según él, abundaba el lacón con grelos.

El inmenso camposanto de La Habana

♥ ♥ ♥

Desde que apareció la esbelta figura de la ciclista, el vigía del molino había estado al margen de la realidad. Aquella presencia se producía fuera del plano. No existía ningún trazo que simulase una figura de mujer apoyada en el pretil, contemplando el discurrir del río, ni dos círculos como ruedas que señalasen el preciso lugar, justo en el del puente, donde estaba el pilar principal y, adherida, la carga explosiva. Él permaneció aún durante unos segundos hechizado por la grácil belleza de la joven ciclista sin establecer un vínculo entre la irrealidad de la aparición y las agujas de su reloj.

La chica del pantalón pirata

♥ ♥ ♥

«Hoy el maestro ha dicho que las mariposas también tienen lengua, una lengua finita y muy larga, que llevan enrollada como el muelle de un reloj. Nos la va a enseñar con un aparato que le tienen que enviar de Madrid. ¿A que parece mentira eso de que las mariposas tengan lengua?».
«Si él lo dice, es cierto. Hay muchas cosas que parecen mentira y son verdad. ¿Te ha gustado la escuela?».
«Mucho. Y no pega. El maestro no pega».

La lengua de las mariposas

♥ ♥ ♥

«Hace viento, ¿eh, Old?», dijo Maggie, cruzando los brazos justamente por donde él lo haría si pudiese.
«Sí que hace». Y añadió en un tono que a él mismo le resultó misterioso:
«Aunque las hojas sean muchas, la raíz es sólo una».
Maggie lo miró como si descifrara un enigma. Era algo más de lo que esperaba de Old M., metido siempre, como quien dice, en su propia sombra. Esas cosas se pagan con una sonrisa. Así que se echó sobre la barra, no sin antes mirar a ambos lados por si alguien acechaba, y acercó la cara, los ojos picaros posados en él, talmente como mujer que va a avivar en la chimenea el fuego tibio de la turba.
«En los mentirosos días de mi juventud metí mis flores al sol», dijo Maggie en un dulce suspiro.

La llegada de la sabiduría con el tiempo

♥ ♥ ♥

Y también estaba Couto, que era contrabajo y durante la semana trabajaba en una fundición. A este Couto, que padecía algo del vientre, el médico le había mandado comer sólo papillas. Pasó siete años seguidos a harina de maíz y leche. Un día, en carnaval, llegó a casa y le dijo a su mujer: «Hazme un cocido, con lacón, chorizo y todo. Si no me muero así, me muero de hambre». Y le fue de maravilla.

Un saxo en la niebla