Imagine the clip below going on for 100 minutes. That’s what this film is like.
It seems to be made for (and by) folks with attention span of about 15 seconds. If you want to learn about history of rockabilly in Spain — or to hear at least one complete song other than that by the very Lauren Jordan — look elsewhere.
If you like Basque punk and gratuitous cartoony violence, there is a slight chance that you might enjoy this crudely-made animation. Watch a trailer (something I never do before going to a cinema) and decide if you want to proceed. Otherwise, best to avoid.
This was the last screening of CINEZiN2. So. Last year I saw three (out of four) films of CINEZiN, one was great. This year, I saw all three of them and one was really good. Oh well, at least it was free. I hope next year the festival comes back with a better selection of stuff.
By a happy coincidence, last Saturday the second number of CINEZiN2 programme won the Goya Award for best documentary. For this reason, I presume, the screening was moved from Museo Castillo de Mata to the bigger venue, that is, Teatro Guiniguada. The film was presented by its creators, Gaizka Urresti and Paula Labordeta de Grandes; the latter insisted on taking a selfie with the audience, mainly (as she explained) because she wanted to send it to her mum. So sweet.
I have to say that until now I had no slightest idea who José Antonio Labordeta was, apart from that he must have something to do with music. Well, he was many things: teacher, writer, poet, TV presenter and regionalist politician, with his now-legendary “a la mierda” discourse in Spanish Congress of Deputies twenty years ago (6 March 2003, to be precise). But first and foremost, he was a cantautor. To Aragon (and, arguably, the rest of Spain), Labordeta is what Serrat is to Catalonia (and the rest of Spain). In a lump-in-throat moment, as the final titles rolled, the audience stood up, applauding and singing Canto a la libertad.
Songs for Drella (1990) was a fruit of the first (also, the second to last) reunion of Reed and Cale since 1968. “Drella” was a nickname of Andy Warhol to whom the album pays homage. A noble cause, no doubt, but the result didn’t quite work for me.
This film documents a live performance, without an audience though, of the whole album on 4 and 5 December of 1989. No less, but also no more than that. The personal interaction between the two is minimal — they sit like six meters apart for the whole show and never look at each other. From one song to another, the photography switches between colour and black and white, perhaps in a (vain) hope to add some visual diversity. The only song that touched me in some way was Forever Changed.
The screening in Castillo de Mata, followed by a conference with the journalist and music critic Ignacio Julià (which I didn’t stay for), has opened the CINEZiN2 festival.
The Garlic Phantoms took the concept of one-hit wonder to the extreme: they have just one song. Called The Garlic Phantoms. Very few bands managed to take that little that far. So, one concert, one song. Here, for example, you can see the complete concert of The Garlic Phantoms at Sonorama Ribera on 10 August 2019. All 4 minutes and 51 seconds of it. You may not like it, and most probably you won’t, but at least it’s short. Respect.
Now it seems only logical to take it to a new height by making the film about the rise and fall of The Garlic Phantoms. Fair enough, although you need to have some balls to do this after This is Spın̈al Tap. But keep it short, for Foo Fighters sake. There’s just not enough jokes for flipping 75 minutes.
I went to see this homage to the pioneers of electronic music on the strength of the name alone and was not disappointed. The debut documentary by Lisa Rovner features Maryanne Amacher (1938—2009), Bebe Barron (1925—2008), Wendy Carlos (b. 1939), Suzanne Ciani (b. 1946), Delia Derbyshire (1937—2001), Pauline Oliveros (1932—2016), Daphne Oram (1925—2003), Éliane Radigue (b. 1932), Clara Rockmore (1911—1998) and Laurie Spiegel (b. 1945).
The only familiar name to me was that of Clara Rockmore. She was a virtuoso theremin performer who also contributed to the development of the instrument. Bebe and Louis Barron composed the first completely electronic film score for Forbidden Planet which was credited, however, as “electronic tonalities” (not “music”). Daphne Oram co-founded the BBC Radiophonic Workshop and invented the amazing Oramics machine which creates music from hand-drawn images. Delia Derbyshire also started her carreer at the Radiophonic Workshop where she arranged and coauthored the original Doctor Who theme music. Here’s a BBC Archive clip part of which was used in the documentary:
The film was screened as a part of Cinezín and I enjoyed it much more than its opening feature. Unfortunately, they have chosen not the best room for the projection; I had a problem to see whole of the screen and so did everybody else apart from those in the front row.
Tonight I had a choice: either to attend an evening with Roy Galán and La Otra, or to go to Castillo de Mata to see the first film of the festival Cinezín. I opted for the latter, reasoning that I saw La Otra not that long ago. Maybe it was a mistake.
Well. If bad camerawork, poor sound, mumbling interviewees and, let’s face it, crappy post-punk is your cup of tea, then I can’t recommend it enough; otherwise don’t bother. Featuring Alaska (is she ever off the air?), Ana Curra and other ex-members of Alaska y los Pegamoides and Parálisis Permanente.
After the screening, there was a “round table” (although they only put four chairs on the stage) with the very Ana Curra, but I had enough already.
