The Grapes of Wrath

a film by John Ford

Man, in olden days they knew how to make them movies well — and fast. John Steinbeck published his novel in April 1939. According to Wikipedia, “production on the film began on October 4, 1939, and was completed on November 16, 1939.” The movie premièred in January 1940. How’s that?

I never read Steinbeck’s book and now, after watching the film, I doubt I ever will. I mean, I read enough depressing books in my life and the Great Depression wouldn’t be called that for no reason, so forget it. At least the film offers a glimmer of hope. Henry Fonda is all right as Tom Joad most of the time, at least until the moment when he embarks on that goddamn pompous “I’ll be everywhere” soliloquy. The most likeable character is the ex-preacher Jim Casy portrayed by John Carradine (who also appears in Stagecoach). The children, Ruthie (Shirley Mills) and Winfield (Darryl Hickman) are cute and spontaneous, especially in the scene where they discover “white things, like in the catalogue” (that is, indoor amenities).

Casy: At my meetin’s I used to get the girls glory-shoutin’ till they about passed out. Then, I’d go to comfort ’em and always end up by lovin’ ’em. I’d feel bad, an’ pray, an’ pray, but it didn’t do no good. Next time, do it again. I figured I just wasn’t worth savin’.
Tom: Pa always says you was never cut out for no preacher. I never let one get by me if I could catch her. Have a snort?
Casy: But you wasn’t a preacher. A girl was just a girl to you. To me they was holy vessels. I was savin’ their souls. I asked myself, what is this here called Holy Spirit? Maybe that’s love? Why, I love everybody so much I’m fit to bust sometimes! So maybe there ain’t no sin an’ there ain’t no virtue. It’s just what people does. Some things folks do is nice and some ain’t so nice. That’s all any man’s got a right to say. Course I’ll say a grace if somebody sets out the food, but my heart ain’t in it. Nice drinkin’ liquor.

Mascotas, espíritus y otros prodigios del Inframundo

by Pep Brocal

Looking for her cat Dudu, Amalia ends up going to the underworld. Along the way, she meets Bruce Lee, the author of Divina Commedia, and Lucifer, among the others. Gripping story and stylish illustrations will make you crave for more Inframundo.

Canarias en Corto 2020

For me, the two main points of a short film are (1) to tell a good story and (2) to be short. In contrast to, say, last month’s programme, all seven short film presented yesterday in Teatro Guiniguada failed on the second point. For instance, my favourite, and also the longest, Fuera de campo, kind-of-a-documentary that has neither clear beginning nor end, could have said the same in five minutes instead of twenty-four.

Proyección del Catálogo Canarias en Corto 2020 Teatro Guiniguada, Las Palmas de Gran Canaria Thursday, 13 February 2020, 20:00

Zapato roto by Domingo de Luis (11 min) Océano by Fernando García-Moreno Alcántara (18 min) Selfie by Nayra Sanz Fuentes (10 min) Las grietas by Valentino Raffaele Sandoli (9 min) Los espacios confinados (Confined Spaces) by Omar A. Razzak and Shira Ukrainitz (12 min) Fuera de campo by Adriana Thomasa and Pablo Vilas Delgado (24 min) Grietas by Alberto Gross Molo (13 min)

Stagecoach

a film by John Ford

Another 1939 picture from this incredibly prolific director (in his lifetime, John Ford directed more than 140 films). Well, I didn’t care much for the “main” characters, that is, Dallas and Ringo Kid, played by Claire Trevor and John Wayne, respectively. (By the way, it looks like this is the first film starring John Wayne that I’ve ever seen; until now, I only knew his name from Robert Rankin books.) It were the supporting cast who made my evening yesterday: Andy Devine as the stagecoach driver, Buck; fantastic Thomas Mitchell as permanently drunk Doc Boone; Donald Meek (who was also playing the prosecutor in Young Mr. Lincoln) as The Reverend whiskey salesman Mr. Peacock; and Chris-Pin Martin as the innkeeper Chris. The portrayal of the “savage” Native Americans in the film will surely make you cringe, while the monologue of Mr. Gatewood, a currupt banker played by Berton Churchill, is painfully familiar.

Gatewood (clutching valise with embezzled funds): I don’t know what the government is coming to. Instead of protecting businessmen, it pokes its nose into business. Why, they’re even talking now about having bank examiners. As if we bankers don’t know how to run our own banks. Why Boone, I actually have a letter from a popinjay official saying they were going to inspect my books. I have a slogan that should be emblazoned on every newspaper in the country: “America for Americans”! The government must not interfere with business. Reduce taxes! Our national debt is something shocking! Over one billion dollars a year! What this country needs is a businessman for President.

Кин-дза-дза!

a film by Georgi Daneliya
music by Giya Kancheli

I remember me first seeing Kin-dza-dza! in 1987. I quite liked it even though found it a bit long. Ku.

And the second ku a week or so later — back in those days, you had to catch a film during its theatrical run or else (where “else” = probably never). Almost instantaneously, Kin-dza-dza! became a cult classic and a source of many witty quotes, at least among my and my brother’s university mates. Ku twice.

Years later, watching Mad Max 3 on the telly, I couldn’t help thinking how much deeper, more absurd and, above all, how much funnier Kin-dza-dza! was. Now that I’ve mentioned it, Mad Max is not funny at all. Kü!

Many, many years later, re-watching Kin-dza-dza! after a very long gap. (While I was not looking, an animated remake was released and Google made the 30^th Anniversary Doodle.) The great Leonov, Yakovlev, Daneliya and Kancheli are gone but the film has not aged. If anything, it is even more relevant today, what with rampant Plückification of our own planet. Was it that ahead of its time?

Strangely enough, or maybe not, I couldn’t find any decent quality “official” trailer of the movie, although the complete movie is available on YouTube in HD, courtesy of Mosfilm. The English subtitles there are a bit kü but this should not stop you from having ku.

Гедеван Александрович: Извините, а чатлане и пацаки — это национальность?
Уэф: Нет.
Гедеван Александрович: Биологический фактор?
Уэф: Нет.
Гедеван Александрович: Лица с других планет?
Уэф: Нет.
Гедеван Александрович: А в чём они друг от друга отличаются?
Уэф: Ты что, дальтоник, Скрипач — зелёный цвет от оранжевого отличить не можешь? Турист.

Mala mujer: La revolución que te hará libre

by Noemí Casquet
illustrated by Andyn

In what sense is the protagonist of this book “bad”? Well, I suppose a “bad” woman is the opposite of a “good” (that is, conforming to the heteropatriarchal social expectations) girl, as exemplified by Noemí Casquet herself at a tender young age:

Era buena. Sí, la niña buena. Me sentaba con las piernas cruzadas. Me callaba cuando por la calle me silbaban cual perro. Lloraba todas las noches por no sentirme a gusto con mi cuerpo. Odiaba mi menstruación y el ciclo menstrual. Adoraba los dramas repentinos en las relaciones, los portazos y los llantos seguidos de polvos de reconciliación. ¿Sexo en grupo? Jamás. Llevaba sujetador cada día de mi existencia porque tenía un pecho más grande que el otro y se marcaban los pezones con el frío. Qué vergüenza ir sin sostén. La gente sabría que tengo pezones. Estuve en una relación extremadamente tóxica y de maltrato psicológico durante seis años. Me pilló demasiado joven, a los catorce, justamente cuando empezaba a explorar mi sexualidad. Me negué durante demasiado tiempo mi bisexualidad. Creo que me negué todo lo que conllevara follar y dejarme llevar, en general. Me veía fea y gorda y estúpida. Quería seguir el camino establecido como la que más: casarme, tener hi jos, un trabajo estable en una oficina y una casa propia. Era celosa e impulsiva, dramática y egocéntrica. Me importaba lo que decían los demás. Tenía una ansiedad tremenda y a veces no quería salir de la cama.

Of course, it is up to the reader to discover her own unique way to be “bad”. One thing is clear: a “bad woman” is an informed woman. And the book does a good job to inform. In a space of some two hundred plus pages, it covers topics such as gender identity, sexual and relational orientation, self-esteem, “anatomy for dummies”, menstruation, masturbation, sex toys, squirting, hetero- and homosexual practices, STI/STD and their prevention, contraception, group sex, BDSM, Tantra, pornography (complete with the list of the ethical/feminist porn producers), romantic love (or “de mierda”, in the author’s words), emotion management, toxic relationships, and relationship contracts — and all in a rather lighthearted, easy-to-read, humorous way. There is even a QR code for Noemí’s sex playlist. Who said that the revolution can’t be fun?

I guess, as a cisgender man, I am not exactly this book’s target audience. Who cares, I thoroughly enjoyed it anyway. What I found (not) a little bit irritating were the author’s forays into pseudoscience, which I think do not help her cause at all. No, there is no proven correlation between the lunar phases and human physiology, including menstrual cycle and neurotransmitter levels. She could have made a convincing case for the use of menstrual cup without the rant about the evils of “chemicals”. I was also alarmed at a mention of emotional intelligence (which always scores high on my bullshit radar) although what she goes on to say about emotion management is just a common sense advice to verbalise what you feel and want — because none of us is a clairvoyant. The list of yes/no questions in the section 4.2.5 (the more “yeses”, the more “toxic” is a relationship) actually includes a question where “yes” is a healthy answer; I hope that is corrected in the future editions.

The book wouldn’t be half the fun if not for striking black, white and red drawings by Andyn (Andrea Núñez), the young illustrator from Gran Canaria. One more reason to forget the Kindle and opt for a real thing. Ironically, the cover of the book as shown at Amazon or whatever other online shop sports a cartoon girl with her nipples covered by an embossing tape label that reads #FreeTheNipple while the physical copy that I borrowed from our library has no such abomination (see how it should look here).

Young Mr. Lincoln

a film by John Ford

I am not a fan of courtroom drama. So allow me to suggest that, no matter you like this genre or not, you too may enjoy the adventures of young Abe Lincoln (Henry Fonda) as he starts his legal practice in Springfield, Illinois after reading just one thick book. He also indulges in cake competition judging, log splitting, and tug of war. I guess the modern lawyer-centered filmmakers can too learn a trick or two from this classic. It’s not exactly a comedy but it has enough comic elements to keep you awake. Watch out for the judge (Spencer Charters) and Sam Boone, a town drunk turned juror (uncredited appearance of the director’s older brother Francis Ford).

I have to admit that until yesterday I had no slightest idea who John Ford was; thanks to the retrospective by Filmoteca Canaria, I do now.