In spite of being the newest item on the list, The Man Who Fell to Earth aged the worst. Mr. Bowie is probably the main reason the film acquired the cult status, but I was much more impressed by Candy Clark’s performance as Mary-Lou.
Here’s a curiousity: Nicolas Roeg was also a director of photography in Fahrenheit 451. Those were the days when film directors knew how to handle a camera.
How come I never watched this film until yesterday? Well, it’s not exactly true: I caught its less-than-convincing happy end some years ago on the telly and wasn’t impressed. Now that I saw The Martian in its entirety, I have to confess I quite enjoyed it. It’s got a sense of humour. It’s got ABBA, David Bowie and Donna Summer. And The Green Morning moment: “Hey there”. Hell, I even liked Matt Damon’s (ABBA, David Bowie and Donna Summer-hating) Mark Watney — he’s not as much Robinson Crusoe as Cyrus Smith. Science is cool. Be like Mark, and they’ll name a new potato species after you [see Martine (!) et al. (2016) Solanum watneyi, a new bush tomato species from the Northern Territory, Australia named for Mark Watney of the book and film “The Martian”. PhytoKeys61, 1—13].
I doubt I’ll be using Watney’s life hacks any time soon, except for this one:
“If you can’t fix it with duct tape, then you ain’t using enough duct tape.”
First period, first love, first sex — not particularly deep but beautifully told coming-of-age tale. Ignore the eponymous cocoon metaphor (luckily avoided in the Spanish version of the title, El despertar de Nora): it’s way too predictable; look out for hidden gems instead.
Strangely enough, I never heard about this film until a few weeks ago when I saw the DVD in our library. What, score by Roger Waters? A song by David Bowie? I had to borrow it.
Surviving it till the end turned out more difficult that I expected. I remember watching Grave of the Fireflies years ago with the kids. Yes, a powerful movie that, and no, we never got back to it. Same here. Definitely worth seeing it once, but I won’t do it again.
I didn’t do any research prior to watching this film in CASYC (calle Tantín 25, Santander) and assumed (wrongly) from the title, “Don’t look at me that way”, that it is shown in its original English language. I was right about the “original language” though. It was screened in German and Mongolian, with Spanish (and German, in Mongolian sequences) subtitles.
This film defies easy categorisation. There is a fair amount of comic scenes, nudity and sex, however it is neither comedy nor erotica but something completely else. The fact that the protagonists, Hedi and Iva, are played by the first-time actors (Borchu and Catrina Stemmer, respectively) makes it feel very spontaneous, at times even documentary-like. At other times, the borders between reality and dream are blurred. When the shocking final scene comes, you are left wondering to which world(s) it belongs. Don’t look at me that way: it’s up to you what way to look at it.
Bertolt Brecht, translated by John Willett Remembering Marie A.
An jenem Tag im blauen Mond September
Still unter einem jungen Pflaumenbaum
Da hielt ich sie, die stille bleiche Liebe
In meinem Arm wie einen holden Traum.
Und über uns im schönen Sommerhimmel
War eine Wolke, die ich lange sah
Sie war sehr weiß und ungeheuer oben
Und als ich aufsah, war sie nimmer da.
Seit jenem Tag sind viele, viele Monde
Geschwommen still hinunter und vorbei
Die Pflaumenbäume sind wohl abgehauen
Und fragst du mich, was mit der Liebe sei?
So sag ich dir: Ich kann mich nicht erinnern.
Und doch, gewiß, ich weiß schon, was du meinst
Doch ihr Gesicht, das weiß ich wirklich nimmer
Ich weiß nur mehr: Ich küsste es dereinst.
Und auch den Kuss, ich hätt’ ihn längst vergessen
Wenn nicht die Wolke da gewesen wär
Die weiß ich noch und werd ich immer wissen
Sie war sehr weiß und kam von oben her.
Die Pflaumenbäume blühn vielleicht noch immer
Und jene Frau hat jetzt vielleicht das siebte Kind
Doch jene Wolke blühte nur Minuten
Und als ich aufsah, schwand sie schon im Wind.
It was a day in that blue month September
Silent beneath a plum tree’s slender shade
I held her there, my love so pale and silent
As if she were a dream that must not fade.
Above us in the shining summer heaven
There was a cloud my eyes dwelt long upon
It was quite white and very high above us
Then I looked up, and found that it had gone.
And since that day so many moons, in silence
Have swum across the sky and gone below.
The plum trees surely have been chopped for firewood
And if you ask, how does that love seem now?
I must admit: I really can’t remember
And yet I know what you are trying to say.
But what her face was like I know no longer
I only know: I kissed it on that day.
As for the kiss, I’d long ago forgot it
But for the cloud that floated in the sky.
I know that still, and shall for ever know it
It was quite white and moved in very high.
It may be that the plum trees still are blooming,
That woman’s seventh child may now be there
And yet that cloud had only bloomed for minutes,
When I looked up, it vanished on the air.
I was a relative latecomer to the world of David Bowie. I didn’t even hear The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars until the late 1990s. The news of his passing surprised but didn’t exactly shock me. This song and video (published on YouTube three days before Bowie’s death), however, did. Just like Ziggy Stardust, it has to be played at maximum volume.
This album shows that Gwyneth Herbert can do much more than sing jazz standards. (Which she can also do beautifully, but not on this record.) All songs here are written by Ms Herbert bar the last (hidden) track, the cover of Bowie’s Rock ’n’ Roll Suicide (which is not bad, but I can live without it just fine). And her band is as good as one can dream. My favourites are Lorelei, My Narrow Man and Put Your Mouth Where Your Money Is.
