Largo Winch, c'est un peu comme les James Bond. On sait que ce n'est pas le film révélation de l'année (et on sait les basiques de l'histoire: la femme, l'action, les méchants, la victoire), mais on savoure quand même. Pour ceux qui connaissent la BD, s'y rajoute un peu de nostalgie.

Les critiques dithyrambiques (et non pas dans le Vogue, mauvaises langues que vous êtes) ne sont pas tout à fait justes. Largo Winch est un film fort agréable, mais j'ai l'impression d'en avoir vu plusieurs comme ça...

Mélanie Thierry apparaît quelques minutes, malgré toute la promo qu'on a fait sur elle (conclusion: bien choisir son partenaire!), n'allez donc pas voir le film uniquement pour elle.

Kristin Scott Thomas est toujours impeccable, mais son rôle est un peu étroit pour une telle actrice (cela dit, avec son divorce, elle a peut-être besoin de travailler).

La révélation est Tomer Sisley, tellement convaincant que j'ai pensé que Largo Winch était déjà à son image (aka brun) dans la BD d'origine (il est blond... et moi je suis définitivement à la masse...). J'adhère totalement!

En conclusion, une bonne façon de se réfugier du froid ambiant!

Pour entamer une nouvelle année

Joan Didion, célèbre dans le milieu intellectuel américain (mais inconnue de moi jusqu'à présent, est-il utile de le préciser?) a écrit cet ouvrage pour exorciser sa douleur. Quelques jours après que sa fille soit internée en soin intensif pour coma dû à une pneumonie agravée, son mari meurt d'une crise cardiaque (et vous pensiez être malheureux parce que vous n'avez pas eu les cadeaux que vous souhaitiez à Noël?).

L'année de la pensée magique sera son année de deuil, et l'année d'un apprentissage d'une vision de la vie différente. Ni philosophique ni exhibitionniste, ce récit est celui d'une femme qui a perdu tout repère et qui essaie de se raccrocher aux branches comme elle peut. Bien écrit, on ne peut que compatir à son chemin qui semble semé d'embûches.

En ces temps moroses, il est bon de se souvenir que le matériel n'est que secondaire (cela dit, si je peux gagner au loto...) et que les relations sont au coeur de toute vie. On ne s'en aperçoit généralement que trop tard....

Keira, Keira, Keira

Un film d'époque avec Kiera, comment y résister (un film tout court avec Kiera d'ailleurs)? Son dernier film au cinéma Atonement m'avait ébloui, et les critiques de The Duchess étaient excellentes (dans Vogue au moins, mais comme c'est ma référence, cela suffit).

La biographe du roman ayant inspiré le film étant coproductrice, le gage de qualité était là. Et c'est vrai que tout est parfait: la reconstitution historique (costumes, décors), le contexte (les années précédant la Révolution française), et surtout le jeu des acteurs (Ralph Fiennes, Dominic Cooper -qui saute de Mamma Mia à The Duchess, chapeau!- et surtout Kiera...).

On n'a donc rien reproché à ce beau film, qui reste cependant bien trop lisse à mon goût. Soit deux heures ne sont pas assez pour approfondir le sujet et les sentiments, soit je n'arrive à m'apitoyer pour ce genre de personnages (comme le sort de Diana, ont Georgiana est une ancêtre, et dont le parallèle dans le film est clairement visible, ne m'a jamais fait pleuré...). Certes choisir entre son amant et ses enfants est difficile (je lui laisse les enfants, je prends l'amant), mais en remettant les choses dans leur contexte, sa vie reste quand même fort agréable en comparaison de la vie de 95% de la population de l'époque.

Un beau film, agréable et distrayant, en revanche pour les larmes et la compassion, on repassera (et pourtant même ET me fait pleurer...).

Il faut qu'on parle de Kevin

Si ce roman n'est que fiction, le sujet en est si terriblement réaliste que l'histoire pourrait être réelle. Lionel Shriver laisse fictivement la parole à la mère d'un adolescent ayant fait un carnage dans son école. Si aujourd'hui, cela semble monnaie courante aux Etats-Unis, Kevin se distingue par le fait de l'avoir fait aux flèches, ce qui évite un débat sur les armes à feu pour en revenir aux individus au coeur du problème même: Kevin et sa famille.

Terrifiant par son franc-parler et par son honnêteté (ce livre regroupe toutes mes peurs face aux enfants: aime-t-on forcément son enfant, que faire si on le déteste? à lire -ou pas- avant d'avoir des enfants..), l'auteur remonte jusqu'à la Genèse de l'enfant pour tenter de trouver une explication, et pour chercher sa propre part de culpabilité.

Certes, l'ébauche des personnages semble parfois un peu caricaturale, et m'a fait pensé à Rosemary's Baby. Kevin pourrait être le diable incarné, mais le problème est que finalement il n'est probablement qu'un adlescent à problème ayant dépassé ses limites, dans une société ne sachant gérer cette situation.

Il faut qu'on parle de Kevin est une véritable réflexion sur les enfants, le rôle des parents, l'amour parental, et une description au vitriol de cette société. Pas de réponse, pas d'explication, juste beaucoup de questions. Et finalemet la plus belle réponse que l'on peut avoir: l'amour (san aveuglement) en dépit de tout.

Quand Friends mène à Dickens

Lors d'un épisode de Friends, Joey passe une audition pour une nouvelle comédie musicale intitulée A Tale of Two Cities. Il choisit donc de chanter entre autres New York, New York jusqu'à ce que Chandler lui réponde qu'à priori, il ne va pas avoir le choix des villes. Friends étant bourré de références, pour celui qui n'a pas le bagage culturel nécessaire, il rate une grande partie des blagues. Faisant partie de cette catégorie, j'avais renoncé à comprendre, jusqu'à ce que l'on m'offre le livre. J'ai enfin compris que A tale of two cities était un roman de Dickens ayant inspiré une comédie musical.

Et comme je déteste rester sans réponse, je l'ai lu sans grand enthousiasme au début. Sauf que c'est un roman passionnant, évidemment très bien écrit, et pourtant très accessible en langue originale.

Se déroulant à l'époque de la Révolution française, entre Paris et Londres (the two cities donc), l'auteur restranscrit avec beaucoup de brio l'ambiance probable de l'époque. Même l'histoire (d'une famille) servant de fil conducteur n'est pas trop mièvre et sentimental à mon goût. Excepté les repères historiques, le roman n'a pas pris de coup de vieux.

On comprend pourquoi certains auteurs restent des références en littérature. Et je comprends désormais mieux pourquoi le personnage de Joey ne peut pas comprendre l'allusion. Comme quoi, avec un peu de volonté, tous les chemins mènent à Rome!

In Western folklore, a changeling is the child of a fairy, elf or dwarf who is left in place of a human child, stolen by the fairy folk away from his human parents. In some stories, the changeling was a piece of wood instead of the fairy child. Far from folklore but inspired by a true story, Clint Eastwood’s The Changeling tells the tale of Walter Collins, stolen one afternoon from his mother Christine’s home. Unlike the changeling of myth though, no fairy child is left in his place. Instead his mother is plunged into nightmarish despair as she begs for help to find him. Months later he is miraculously restored by the then corrupt and inefficient LAPD but to her growing horror, she realizes that the boy returned to her is not her son. What follows is even more horrific as Christine is by turns denounced as, a hysterical woman, a liar and finally as a lunatic to be confined at an insane asylum. Alone and desperate, she is aided in her plight only by a charismatic pastor who has made it his mission to fight the LAPD.
This is by no means an easy movie to watch. Director Clint Eastwood has no qualms taking on difficult themes and this latest one proves to be hewn from the same dark material as his previous ones (Mystic River, Million Dollar Baby are just two that come to mind). In the Changeling, the theme of a lost child is overshadowed by the gross corruption of the police and the treatment meted out to women during those troubled times. It was apparently not unheard of to incarcerate women in asylums for their own good. And as if that were not enough, we see as the movie evolves that a serial killer is actually involved. Whew. It’s a lot to take on and this is further proof that life is often stranger than fiction. Whatever we may feel about depressing movies, we can certainly admire Eastwood’s efforts to tell such this dark yet affecting story.
Angelina Jolie takes on the role of Christine Collins and she makes a supreme effort to tamp down her magnetic star power. It is not easy but it is a good effort. As Jolie plays her, her Christine Collins is by turns a mother worn down by grief, defensive and determined. No sign of the buff Amazon roles that we are probably more accustomed to seeing Jolie play. This role should go a long way towards convincing Hollywood (if there be any need at all) that she is able to do more serious roles that don’t rely on her stupendous good looks.

Gems galore

I felt like Christmas came early when I recently attended the Salon du Mineralogie et des Pierre Semi-Precious at the Marriott Hotel. As it has been awhile since I attended a salon of this nature I was particularly excited when I learned about one that was taking place in Paris. Over 80 exhibitors from all over conspired to put on a varied and literally glittering salon. Even more people similarly fascinated and passionate about stones and minerals were there to partake of the event’s particular atmosphere and of course to admire and buy the gems on display. It was a completely fascinating event. There were exhibitors showing such familiar stones as amethysts, amber, turquoise and quartzes of all hues and shapes. But what was special were the certain few who included in their stands the more unique specimens to be found in the world. Just a few of the special ones included Sulphur (in its mineral form it’s a very pretty yellow color), Spinels (they were the special fuschia red color that I love), Eudalytes (though they were in the form of huge rocks that resembled paperweights more than gems to be worn as jewelry) and there were even Sugilites (in the prettiest lavender purple color that showed their mineral content to perfection). As it was a gem fair after all, it was the perfect occasion to pick up the special stone, maybe a little diamond or ruby, to turn into a ring or pendant and there were a good number of people no doubt doing just that around the stands with the more traditional stones. And for those who prefer their minerals fossilized, there were a good number of exhibitors showing fossil rocks where all manner of animal shapes (prehistoric ones, I presumed) and plants were embedded. To be honest, this part of the fair was a little scary but it didn’t seem to dissuade the people from gawking and in some cases, poking about.
All in all you could easily spend a good afternoon looking around at all the wares and why not, pick up a souvenir or two. Certainly, I’m looking forward to the next one.

A book to pass on

In May 1992, a little after the beginning of the Sarajevo war, 22 people were killed by mortar fire while waiting to buy bread at a bakery. To honor and mourn the people who had lost their lives Vedran Smailovich, a cellist decided to play at the square where they died for 22 straight days. His actions form the basis for Steven Galloway’s novel The Cellist of Sarajevo. Later on, I found out that the book caused a minor controversy as Smailovich was not happy about the book. He actually protested the use of his life as basis for the book and contests the facts as Galloway recounts them. That said, this is a book well worth reading on the strength of its own merits.

The book traces the lives of three people caught in the middle of the war. There is Kenan, a father of three who must make his way across the dangerous streets of the city to fetch water for his family and a cantankerous old neighbor. Then there is Dragan, a baker whose wife and son were able to leave the city for the safe shores of Italy and finally there is Arrow, a young woman recruited by the city’s defenders to shoot the snipers. Her latest mission is to save the cellist from being killed as he plays his tribute.

In the hands of a less skilled novelist, a story like this has the potential to become melodramatic and overwrought. Fortunately, Galloway is skilled enough to let the story tell itself. And it is a moving one. It brings home the horrors and alienation caused by war and the toll it takes on every individual. One of the most touching moments of the book comes when Dragan sadly realizes that the beautiful Sarajevo of his memories is fast being degraded by the current war torn state of his city. It is one of the heartrending parts of the book. Despite the grimness of the story, there are flashes of hope. Incongruous as it may seem, we see in Arrow’s character, the promise of a better future (clichéd as that may sound) when she refuses to forget the decent person that she once was and by choosing to be this person despite the high cost it demands of her.

On ladies and Kings

I have to confess to a weakness to historical fiction. They are for the most part well-written, often well-researched and always entertaining. Added bonus, you always learn something about the particular period described in the book. I have to say though that its been awhile since I've read a good one. The last one I particularly enjoyed was Athenais by Lisa Hilton. It was a really great read about the Marquise de Montespan, also known as Athenais and the next time I visited Versailles, it was with the picture of the Marquise as she lived during those times. Since I dearly liked this book and more importantly I liked Athenais, I was a little reluctant to read about Louise de la Valliere, the first Maitresse en titre of Louis XIV later supplanted by the beautiful Athenais. That said, I hadn't yet read anything by Sandra Gulland so I was curious about this writer. I'm glad I did as Mistress of the Sun was a thoroughly enjoyable read.

Louise de la Valière was born into a humble family. Early in life, she tames a wild horse through bone magic, an act which haunts her throughout her life. She believes that this act of transgression against her faith marks the beginning of her family’s disastrous descent starting with the untimely death of her father. After a series of events, she finds herself in the unlikely position of lady in waiting to the Princess Henriette, King Louis XIV’s sister in law. And such brings her to the attentions of the young Sun King, though their first meeting takes place long before she comes to court in a forest with either of them unknowing of the other’s real identity. When they meet again at Court, the King becomes enamored of the virtuous Petite, as she was known. Slowly she succumbs and they embark on a long affair resulting in four children. Despite the happiness their love affair brings her and the privileges her position affords her and her family, Petite is forever haunted by her conscience. In the end she must learn to find peace in the midst of her royal life.

Sandra Gulland shows a meticulous eye towards the details of this period. And she paints a vivid picture of Paris under the Sun King. Her lively descriptions of city life and the traffic among the barges as they wait their turn to cross the Seine gives us an extremely rich picture of Paris as it must have been. As the love affair between the King and Petite begins quite early on in his reign, we also see how Versailles is transformed from a humble hunting lodge to the immensely extravagant palace it is now. Rich descriptions aside, what elevates this book from romantic fiction (though I have to admit that there’s nothing wrong with a good romance, now and then) is the portrait Gulland paints of Petite. As portrayed under Gulland’s skillful hands, Petite is a conflicted person who struggles to do her best according to her convictions. While she loves the King greatly, she is unable to reconcile this love with her religious convictions. And it doesn’t help that she is told by court priests that giving in to the King involves a higher moral duty that takes precedence over the simple tenet of respecting marital vows. Unfortunately for Petite, she lived at a time when the King’s word was paramount and there were very little options open to women. It is a triumph of her own personal will when Petite is finally able to make her way towards the peaceful life that long eluded her. “Sin was in her, she knew that, but she would not give way this time.”

Tracy, come back!

Okay, là comme ça, cela ne vous dit rien. Mais avec beaucoup d'imagination, vous devinez Tracy Chapman. Elle était à Paris dans le cadre de sa tournée pour la promotion de son nouvel album, dont la sortie fut assez discrète à son image. L'artiste n'avait pas effectué de tournée solo depuis dix ans, ses fans l'attendaient donc de pied ferme.

Paraissant 30 ans (soit, je suis myope mais quand même), mais née en 64 tout de même, l'artiste a donné une prestation tout en émotion. Au contraire d'une Madonna qui mise tout sur les effets spéciaux, et ses tenues (et oui j'aime bien Madonna), Tracy Chapman a tenu une foule en délire avec une voix exceptionnelle et ses guitares. Deux heures de pur bonheur pour une salle comble.

Le programme musical était particulièrement cohérent, et a pemis de donner un éclairage différent à ses chansons, dont l'artiste a expliqué la genèse de certaines. Assez peu démonstrative, et toute en simplicité, Tracy Chapman n'en est pas moins très charismatique.

Promise, Tracy, we'll be there next time you come!

Traître contre martyr

Dans la même veine que "Mon traître" et le film Bloody Sunday

(relatant les émeutes provoquées par les soldats Britanniques lors d'une manifestation pacifique des Irlandais du Nord -à défaut de connaître le film, vous connaissez forcément la chanson de U2-), le film Hunger met en scène la grève de la fin de Bobby Sands, leader de l'IRA.

Le film, qui ressemble davantage à un documentaire par sa forme, requiert d'avoir le coeur bien accroché. Si Bobby Sands est certes le personnage central, y gravitent également autour de lui des membres de l'IRA, certains probablement assez peu préparés à ce qui les attendaient. Les tortures subies et infligées par les Britanniques sont connues, les voir à l'écran permet une nouvelle prise de conscience.

La violence ne donnant pas les résultants escomptés, Bobby Sands la retournera contre lui-même , et se laissera mourir en 66 jours, au terme de souffrances inhumaines.

Le rythme sera peut-être un peu long pour certains mais il permet d'intérioriser le combat et la souffrance de ces individus qui ne demandent qu'une chose, être libre dans leur propre pays. Combat proprement héroïque de mon point de vue, mais je me suis aperçue que certains considéraient l'IRA comme une organisation terrorriste au même titre que l'ETA ou que les indépendantistes corses. Certes la violence est condamnable, mais personne n'a jamais considéré les résistants français bombardant les chemins de fers lors de la seconde guerre mondiale comme des terroristes. La victoire justifie-t-elle à postériori les moyens?

Un film que je recommande chaudement pour une meilleure compréhension du problème irlandais et plus largement pour son interrogation sur la résistance et la violence.

ça s'en va et ça revient

J'avais déjà lu des romans de Queffelec, mais impossible de me souvenir lesquels. Et à la lecture du Plus heureux des hommes, j'ai compris pourquoi: les oeuvres de cet auteur m'ennuient teriblement, ce qui fait qu'à peine le livre refermé (je suis têtue et vais donc toujours au bout des choses), je l'oublie.

Le dernier n'y fait pas exception. Histoire d'amour sur fond de thriller, ou vice-versa, je me suis désintéressée de ses personnages et de l'intrigue dès les premières pages. Quand en plus le style littéraire est très parlé et décousu, il a fallu que je sois particulièrement en manque de livres pour aller jusqu'au bout.

Cette fois, j'arrête, Yann Queffelec n'est définitivement pas un auteur pour moi.

Fashion Margiela style

A plain white square with four rough stitches is all that is attached to their clothes. Unremarkable except that it is the chosen mark of Maison Martin Margiela. In this day and age when designers are almost as famous as their clothes, Margiela is the odd man out. One of the original Antwerp 6 who took the fashion world by storm, he has since then become one of the most reclusive designers of our era. He never gives interviews, is even more rarely photographed and emphasizes the collectivity of their efforts, hence the use of the plural “we” in all correspondence and press releases . How do we even know he truly exists? Well, he used to work for Hermes and started in Jean Paul Gaultier. The scarcity of known facts about him, has served to focus attention on his designs. And his designs are not for the faint- hearted, neither are they for those with a more traditional bent in their clothing tastes.

They are almost surreal designs, with a subversive edge. They emphasize construction, or perhaps, more accurately deconstruction. But they almost always have a humorous edge. How can you take seriously a fur coat constructed out of two vintage coats? Or a huge silver pair of Tabi boots that look like they can take you to the moon and back.
To commemorate his more than 20 years in the business, the Mode Museum of Antwerp is running an exhibition of Maison Margin Margiela. The exhibition focuses on the themes and concepts that have dominated his work and features the pieces that best exemplify them. They are worth seeing if only to have an idea of how his or theirs (they do emphasize collectivity after all) mind. And short of actually acquiring a piece or two for yourself, the exhibition is a good way of getting an up close and personal view of the clothes. An impressive part of the exhibition (and one which unfortunately you can’t take photos) is that which features the Artisanal part of the collection. Ostensibly they are jackets or tops but they take on a more bizarre characterization with the use of feathers, leather straps complete with buckles, and chains. Despite the outrageous nature of a number of his pieces, Margiela’s clothes always reflect a mastery of actual clothes making. After all, you can only deconstruct once you know how to construct. And here, Maison Martin Margiela is a master.

Some photos taken from the exhibition..

Trompe l'oeil designs....


Dressing up to the nines Margiela style...

Emphasis on shoulders....

Quand la cocaïne mène au crack...

Cocaïne an authorized biography m'avait introduit à l'univers du crack, mais comme j'aime aller jusqu'au bout des choses, je me suis empressée d'acheter Crack de Tristan Jordis, sorti lors de la rentrée littéraire.

Récit de son expérience chez les fumeurs de crack pendant un an, son livre est le pendant du documentaire qu'il n'a jamais pu tourner.

J'étais un public facile à satisfaire, le sujet me fascinant particulièrement, et pourtant je reste du ma fin. Morcellé, le livre ne donne que des aperçus: factuels (je n'en sais pas beaucoup plus qu'avant sur le crack, si ce n'est que c'est quasi addictif dès la première prise, au contraire de la cocaïne) et sociologiques (qui sont les "usagers"?, pourquoi deviennent-ils toxicos?, quels sont les mesures mises en place?). Le fil rouge est le cheminement de l'auteur pour tenter de faire un film qui n'existera jamais, mais le chemin est fort long pour le lecteur. Evidemment, le style est loin d'être littéraire, puisque la plupart du texte est contituée de dialogues avec les toxicos, ce qui ne rend pas la lecture plus plaisante.

Au final, j'en ressors avec l'impression d'une grand superficialité. Certes l'auteur y a laissé du temps, de l'énergie et de l'argent (les toxicos ayant tout aussi bien compris que n'importe qui que rien n'est gratuit), mais cela ne suffit pas pour écrire un livre intéressant. Cela sonne un peu creux, et l'ensemble manquent un peu de recherches, oui si elles ont été faites, d'explications et de données factuelles.

De la musique dans les films

Christophe pour moi, ce fut longtemps synonyme d"Aline". Sympa à chanter au coin du feu dans un camp scout, mais pas vraiment une référence musicale en soi.

En 2006, lors en voyant la bande annonce de "Quand j'étais chanteur" (film très touchant d'ailleurs), je reconnais une chanson qui me touche et me poursuit bien après le film (et non ce n'était pas "Quand j'étais chanteur" de Michel Delpech). Il s'agit des "Paradis Perdus" de Christophe.



Par le biais d'articles sur la musique (ok, une nterview de Raphaël, mais ça tape plus de dire que je lis des articles sur la musique), je m'aperçois que Christophe est manifestement un artiste phare de la culture musicale française qui a influencé les générations postérieures.

S'ensuit alors une quête effrénée pour trouver un best of de Christophe (à un prix raisonnable!) dont je réalise alors aussi qu'il est l'auteur des "Mots Bleus".

Deux and après, Alapage m'offre l'occasion de me l'offrir (merci leurs promotions pour relancer l'économie en crise!). Outre ses classiques cités ci-dessus, j'en ai découvert quelques autres comme la Dolce Vita et Ne raccroche pas.

Certains diront que Christophe est ringard et kitsch. Ils n'auront probablement pas tort mais je pense que fondalement la façon dont la musique touche un individu est inexplicable. Certes il y a des critères qui font que certains artistes et certains morceaux sont incontournables, mais comment cela se fait-il que je sois autant touchée par Christophe que par AFI (hard-rock)? Ou que Gainsbourg qui est cultissime m'ennuie profondèment? Aucune réponse à apporter, mais j'assume totalement mes goûts musicaux désormais, tout aussi éclectiques (voire guimauve) qu'ils soient.

De la scène théâtrale versaillaise à la superproduction américaine...

Un lundi soir d'automne 2008, j'assiste (liens familiaux obligent) à la lecture d'une pièce inédite d'un auteur français. Michael Lonsdale lit le rôle principal. J'apprends qu'il est un acteur incontournable (soit, mais pour moi, il n'est que le sosie de Soljenitsyne). Ses talents ne me frappent pas particulièrement (la première qualité d'un acteur sur scène n'est-elle pas de se faire entendre ET comprendre?) mais on me dit qu'il a vieilli (pas de chance.. -pour lui ou nous?-).

Quelques semaines passent, et j'oublie sa (non) mémorable performance... jusqu'au visionnage du film Le Nom de la Rose. Couronné de récompenses, on m'avait aussi dit que c'était d'un ennui à mourir. Mon opinion ne tend ni l'un ni vers l'autre. Sean Connery y est exceptionnel, et porte à mon sens le film sur ces épaules. Le reste des personnages est un peu caricatural et grotesque, et pas assez dégrossi à mon goût (hello Quasimodo et Nell!). Cela dit, le film se laisse regarder (et je me reprends un coup de vieux en voyant un Christian Slater adolescent!).

En revanche le plus intéressant (et là où je voulais en venir pour ceux qui ont suivi) est que l'un des acteurs principaux est Michael Lonsdale (irreconnaissable et son personnage n'a pas non plus une place particulièrement intéressante dans l'histoire...). N'étant manifestement pas la seule à avoir fait le lien, il semblerait que la vie d'un artiste, ou en tout cas sa célébrité soit fort courte, et suive des chemins tortueux. Sans offence Michael, mais j'aurais préféré Sean...

When you feel like Japanese food

Despite there being at least 10 thousand kilometers between Paris and Japan, there is no shortage of Japanese restaurants in Paris. Let’s be clear however that a great majority of them are first, not really run by Japanese and second, serve an almost boring palette of food—the ubiquitous sushi (I would not guarantee their flavor or freshness) or brochettes (beef, chicken or fish) with rice. They are not really representative of the delicious range of flavors that true Japanese cuisine is capable of. There is one part of Paris that everyone agrees is the place to find a somewhat more authentic experience. For some reason the area around Opera and Pyramides is chock full of little Japanese places that go beyond the obligatory sushi and sashimi combination. Its the perfect place to wander around in if you have a Japanese craving to satisfy.

Aki, one place that I discovered thanks to a good friend, serves Okonomiyaki, a traditional dish that is usually served in the Osaka and Hiroshima regions. It looks somewhat like a pancake, if you can call one that is stuffed variously with pork, fish, dried shrimps, udon noodles and vegetables, all of which are covered in a thin covering of batter and fried accordingly. It is usually served with a sweetish kind of sauce. It is a particular kind of dish (and a bit peculiar looking) but the taste grows on you. It is especially good on these cold wintery days when the body requires something substantial to resist the cold. I have to admit that okonomiyaki is not the only reason to visit Aki. At lunch they serve a great formula of half a bowl of udon noodles, served steaming hot in its delicious broth and rice with katsu don or breaded pork. The noodles are delicious and you’ll find yourself drinking down the soup. A welcome respite from the heat of the soup is the bowl of rice with the katsu. It’s a hearty lunch guaranteed to fill you up at the very least until dinner. For others who prefer fish, this menu also comes with grilled salmon instead of pork. All in all it’s a delicious lunch that costs no more than 12 euros. Quite a bargain and its real Japanese food to boot!

Une jeunesse perdue?

Dans Une fille sans Qualités, Julie Zeh tente de traduire le désespoir de la jeunesse actuelle. Non le désespoir des jeunes de pays défavorisés comme les enfants soldats, mais plutôt l'absence de repères de la jeunesse actuelle. Génération sida, l'avenir semble (et le sera probablement, dixit la pessimiste que je suis) bien sombre: chômage, destruction de la planète, maladies (cf l'étude qui vient de sortir, sur l'augmentation rapide et préoccupante de la stérilité masculine). Dans ce contexte, à quoi croire? L'amour ? Un mariage sur trois finit en divorce, voire un sur deux en région parisienne. La religion? La mécréante que je suis n'est pas particulièrement convaincue, surtout en voyant l'augmentation du fanatisme...

Le personnage principal du roman , Ada, incarne parfaitement cet état d'esprit, et se décrit d'ailleurs comme une arrière petite-fille des nihilistes. Elle semble passer à travers sa vie, jusqu'un nouvel élève arrive au lycée. Lui ne croit en rien non plus, mais en revanche est fort intéressé par la théorie des jeux et du prisonnier (et dire que je croyais que mes cours de micro ne servaient à rien. Ma lecture a donc été utile, et c'est assez réconfortant de voir que finalement tout sert -cela dit, si cela avait était en plus utile sur le coup, cela m'aurait évité une note catastrophique au partiel!). Il décide alors de tester en réel la théorie avec l'aide d'Ada, en mettant au pied du mur des personnages extérieurs qui devront alors choisir entre la coopération et la dénonciation.

S'ensuit quelques centaines de page sur le déroulement de l'opération. C'est loin d'être inintéressant, mais en revanche c'est un peu longuet. L'auteur étant allemande, on a également un aperçu de l'atmosphère régnant en Allemagne et en Pologne à l'époque de la chute du mur de Berlin. Et c'est tout autant passionnant (voire plus en étant mauvaise langue) que l'histoire en elle-même.

Je n'ai pas très bien compris (et pourtant j'ai longuement réfléchi à la question, mais on ne se refait pas, on est simplette ou on ne l'est pas) si les événements avaient réellement eu lieu. L'histoire est censée être racontée par l'avocate ayant défendu l'affaire, et l'auteur est avocate. En revanche, le livre est décrit comme un roman, et rien n'indique que l'auteur est réllement ét impliquée dans le procès. Imagination ou réalité, de toute façon, l'histoire donne quelques inquiétudes pour notre avenir (ou cela de nos enfants)...

On m'avait recommandé Les liaisons dangereuses, et vu le casting (John Malkovich seul serait déjà suffisant), je ne pouvais pas être déçue. Et quand Warner fête son anniversaire je raque (c'est le principe des anniversaires, non?). En revanche généralement on passe un bon moment, et cela n'a pas failli.

Pour les gens cultivés, le parallèle avec le livre de Laclos doit naturellement se faire. N'appartenant pas à ce monde-là, mon lien se fera avec Sex Intentions (il faut être de ma génération pour connaître...). On fait avec ce qu'on a...

Les comparaisons ont tenu le coup dans un sens comme dans l'autre. Situés à deux époques différentes, les deux films apportent un éclairage différent (notamment en terme de glamour! Ne jamais négliger l'importance des tenues vestimentaires dans l'impact qu'ont les films, on oublie parfois leur aspect sociologique).

Dans cette version, on savoure la savoureuse prestation de John Malkovich (toujours impeccable quel que soit son rôle), Glenn Close lui rendant la pareille avec brio. On prend un coup de vieux avec une Uma Thurman adolescente, et on découvre que Michelle Pfeiffer n'a pas joué que dans Batman.

C'est joussif même si c'est probablement assez peu moral (heureusement la fin est très politiquement correct), mais après tout chacun sait que je suis une personne peu morale. Manifestement je ne suis pas la seule puisque le film se situant à quelques siècles de nous, on voit des situations identiques tous les jours. Doit-on se rassurer de voir que l'homme reste immuable à travers le temps, ou au contraire s'inquiéter?

a little bit of couuuuuuuuuuuuuuntry

L'un des plus belles choses de l'amitié, c'est le partage et la découverte: temps, activité, goût. Ma culture étant passablement inexistante, je suis toujours avide d'apprendre. Alors quand Y. m'a fait écouter Dolly Parton, j'étais intéressée, puisque je n'avais jamais entendu parler d'elle (est-elle d'ailleurs connu en France?). Les chansons que j'ai entendu ne l'a classifiaient pas pour moi comme chanteuse de country (dont pour moi l'unique référence existante était les Dixie Chicks; mais pour une fois mon inculture a une excuse: sérieusement qui écoute de la country en France?), mais une interview de Jessica Simpton dans le Vogue (américain, qui en France s'intéresse à Jessica Simpson faisant la promotion de son album country?) m'a fait comprendre que Dolly Parton était manifestement un monument culturel dans le domaine du country.

Alapage faisant le reste en proposant des promotions sur ses albums, le pigeon marketing que je suis n'a pas résisté, pour mon plus grand bonheur. Evidemment l'album, et les vidéos vues sur Youtube renforcent l'image des américaines du Sud: de vieilles peaux voulant faire jeunes, avec le stetson et les santiags.

Alors pour ça, et pour les chansons dont certaines valent vraiment le coup, Dolly Parton vaut qu'on l'écoute. Voici une vidéo qui vaut le détour pour la tenue de Dolly et pour sa chanson (sans ironie aucune!).

Saving a precious book from destruction

I first heard about the Sarajevo Haggadah when I went to Geraldine Brooks' reading. Instead of reading directly from her newest work titled People of the Book, Geraldine started by telling her rapt audience the story of the Haggadah's rescue from destruction. Now, as I didn't know much about Haggadah's in general, I was fascinated by the whole story. A Haggadah is an illustrated manuscript that contains the traditional text of the Passover to accompany the Passover sedar. The Sarajevo one is beautifully and sumptuously illustrated in gold and precious minerals. This is a remarkable fact given that at the time of its creation in the 14th century, Jewish theology of the times forbade graven images. It is one of the rarest examples of Jewish manuscripts and one of the most valuable in the world. The Sarajevo Haggadah has survived all these long years and was saved from destruction at least twice by Muslim protectors. In the first famous instance, Ms. Brooks recounted the story of Dervish Korkut, the Sarajevo national museum director who saved the Haggadah from German hands during the war by secreting the book under his coat when General Hans Joseph Fortner visited the museum. When the general demanded that the Haggadah be handed over to him, they told him that another general had already asked for it. Korkut then hid it till it was safe to bring out once more. When Sarajevo erupted into civil war during the 90s, the Haggadah was once more saved by its Muslim director when he braved mortar fire in order to save it from destruction.

From the bare yet known facts about the Sarajevo Haggadah, Geraldine Brooks has fashioned a richly imagined tale of its creation and travel till it comes to rest under the auspices of the Sarajevo National Museum. Ostensibly the story is told through Hanna Heath, a young Australian restorer of ancient manuscripts who is selected to restore the Sarajevo Haggadah. As Hanna works on the manuscript, she discovers several tiny artifacts embedded within ---a wing fragment, a strand of white hair, salt and wine. From here the narrative splits into two directions, with one strand unfolding the tale behind each ancient fragment while the other strand tells Hanna’s story.

While the story is told through Hanna, there is no doubt that the main protagonist of this book is the Sarajevo Haggadah. It is clear from the writing here that Brooks has done an enormous amount of research in order to imagine the tale of this important book. In vividly tracing the trajectory of the book from its creation in 14th Century Seville by a young African woman illustrator, to the time of the Jewish Expulsion, through its sojourn in Venice in the 17th century and 19th century Vienna and the harrowing years of WWII and the Saravejan war, Brooks has crafted a rich tapestry of stories that will beguile any reader. “Saltwater and White Hair” are especially moving. I had to pause after these chapters to recover my breath before I continued on.
Occasionally the device of using Hanna’s story as a jump of point for the more ancient tales is a bit jarring but the Haggadah narrative is so compelling that it more than makes up for it. And perhaps, because the stories behind the Haggadah are so compelling, it makes it difficult for Hanna’s story to be as compelling. Nevertheless she is a plucky and likeable character and it is through her that we get a real insight into the work that goes into restoring precious old manuscripts. “Of course, a book is more than the sum of its materials. It is an artifact of the human mind and hand. The gold beaters, the stone grinders, the scribes, the binders, those are the people I feel most comfortable with. Sometimes, in the quiet, these people speak to me. They let me see what their intentions were, and it helps me to do my work.” It is hard to resist such a heroine and you’ll come to root for her as I did. But much more than rooting for Hanna, you'll come to root for all the people who have heroically saved this precious relic.

Here's a page from the Sarajevo Haggadah..

The Centre de Georges Pompidou recently concluded its conference series with Alberto Manguel. There were four conferences in all, on various topics relatd to myth, storytelling and history. Because I am a huge fan of Alberto Manguel, I took advantage of the conference to listen to him speak and lecture. The session was on myth and it was with Marina Warner and Abdelfattah Kilito. I have to confess to being a little disappointed with the conference itself. The speakers were undoubtedly learned on their various topics but the conference itself seemed to lack a coherent direction. It seemed pretty much like three different speakers on three different topics, all vaguely related to myth. Still and all, it was worth the visit if only to listen to Manguel. And since I had Manguel in mind, I grabbed a slim volume of his, to read in between various tomes. And I chose the right one since this slim volume is all about Jorge Luis Borges, another favorite author of mine. If you haven't had the pleasure of reading Borges, I heartily recommend it. He has an almost quicksilver imagination and a most felicitious turn of phrase. Its not necessarily the lightest material to read but its well worth it.

Anyway, back to Manguel, when he was 16 years old, while working at Buenos Aires’ Pygmalion bookstore, Manguel was asked by Borges if he would like to be his reader. Borges had already gone blind by the time he asked, and in fact had gotten into the habit of asking any and everyone. And so for four years, Manguel would visit three or four times a week to read to him. His book, With Borges, distills those years.

While his sessions with Borges were reading sessions, it was enough for an astute observer like Manguel to capture Borges’ essence as a writer. For fans of Borges, myself included, this is an invaluable addition to his writings. There is no doubt that Borges was a prolific and more importantly, a beautiful writer but short of having access to academic works or his biography, it is rare to find a volume that discusses his philosophy of writing in such a succinct yet elegant manner. We can never underestimate Borges influence on writing or other writers and even on his country. As Manguel points out, “Borges renewed the Spanish language…that his generous reading methods, allowed him to bring into Spanish felicities from other tongues: English turns of phrase or the German ability to hold until the end of a sentence its subject.” But more than refreshing the Spanish language, Borges’ writings have fixed Argentina permanently into the collective consciousness. “When Borges began writing, Buenos Aires (so far from Europe, the perceived center of culture), felt vague and indistinct, and seemed to require a literary imagination to impose it upon reality. Now Buenos Aires feels more real because it exists in Borges’ pages.” That’s quite a feat if you think about it.

My favorite passage, is that which talks about books. “For Borges, the core of reality lay in books, reading books, writing books, talking about books. In a visceral way, he was conscious of continuing a dialogue begun thousands of years before and which he believed would never end. Books restored the past.” As someone who lives and breathes books on a daily basis, this is one credo to live by.

The Duchess

Fans of period pieces, Kiera Kneightly or Ralph Fiennes, or all three would be extremely happy with The Duchess. Based on the book written by Amanda Foreman, The Duchess tells the story of Georgiana Spenser (three guess who her famous descendant is), the Duchess of Devonshire. She is married off at the tender age of 16 to the significantly older Duke of Devonshire, one of the most powerful men in the England whose singular desire from their marriage is to have a male heir. Unfortunately she is unable to provide one. Desperately unhappy, she uses her increasing popularity to dabble in politics and is a leading light in fashion. Their marriage becomes even more strained and unhappy, when the Georgiana unwittingly installs the woman who would become the Duke’s mistress in their home. And if that weren’t complicated enough, she herself soon embarks on a torrid affair with Charles Grey, who later becomes Prime Minister (and some say, the Grey in Earl Grey Tea). Whew.

This is clearly a lavish production. It is one gorgeous scenery after another, from the opening scene we first see Georgiana as a carefree teenager to the imposing grounds of Devonshire where she comes to live during her marriage. The costumes are all lavish and the hairpieces even more so. It could so easily have been a movie where its production values overwhelm the movie itself. Happily in this case, the actors are all able to overcome such lavishness and turn in genuinely fine performances. Kiera is in fine form here (and I dare say, appears less bony and angled than in her other films) and her performance is spirited yet shows the desperate sadness that shadowed much of the Duchess life. Ralph Fiennes turns in an even more masterful performance as the chilly and boorish Duke. What is incredible about his performance is the smidgen of sympathy he elicits from the audience, when we normally shouldn’t feel an iota of it for a rather loathsome character. I don't know how he does it, but you see from the cracks in Fienne’s features and from his nuanced performance, a person who is the way he is because of the way he has been brought up. And he is unable to be otherwise. It is really heartbreaking to watch as two such dissimilar people wreak such havoc on the other. Watch out for that scene where the Duke marvels at how free the children are. Special mention should be made of Hayley Atwell, whose abundant charms at least provide a credible reason for the Duke’s inability to sacrifice her for the gorgeous creature that is Georgiana.
One thing that this movie tries to highlight is the absence of power on the part of women during these times. And how truly restricted they were by the duties imposed on them by society. Scoff now as we do at the idea of women having the duty to bear children, especially male ones if one had a title or two to safeguard, back in those days, it was very much the be all and end all for women. How sad then to think that special and spirited women like Georgiana had to resort to using their fashion based clout to bring about events. And isn’t it ironic that Georgiana’s almost uncanny ability to use publicity foreshadowed so fittingly the Lady Di’s own incredible mastery over both the press and public? While Georgiana may have been forced to accede to her more noble husband’s wishes, her descendant certainly outmaneuvered hers when the time came.

Secret Scripture was one of those books, I wanted to read because it was shortlisted for a literary prize. While these prizes may seem to be a dime a dozen these days, there is still something to be said about an official body (or at least a big enough group) getting together and deciding that a particular book is worthy of attention, both theirs and ours. In this case, it was the Booker List that brought this book into general attention. And just to explain a bit, the Booker Prize is awarded to the best fiction of the year published in the British Commonwealth. It has the power to change a writer's life as it boosts sales and draws critical attention. Fortunately for the writers the Booker committee generally comes up with a longlist, the initial 12 books, narrowed down to the short list which are the 6 books among which the prize will finally be awarded. Secret Scripture made it to the short list which is no mean feat.

The story is told in alternating chapters between Roseanne McNutly, née Clear and Dr. Grene. When the book opens, we learn that Roseanne has been confined for the past 60 or so years in the Roscommon Regional hospital. Due to the building’s age, it has been slated for demolition and it falls upon Dr. Grene to determine who among the old patients can be transferred to the new hospital. He tries to elicit from Roseanne the story of how she came to be confined, all the while suffering from his own personal crisis. Unbeknownst to him, she has started to write down her story, secreting the pages of her life under a loose board in her room.

It is a bit slow going in the beginning and you need to be patient in order to reap the fruits of Barry’s writing. But, as the story progresses, the reader is rewarded by the mastery he has over language. Barry is able to turn in the most fetching of phrases even for the most mundane details. To wit, the town of Sligo is described as “a cold dark town, assaulted by rain so brutal, it makes the houses shiver and huddle like people at a football match.” What finally engages the reader however is the character of Roseanne who is very much a modern heroine but has the misfortune of being born during the wrong era. It’s a tale of woe as she suffers deprivation and marginalization at the hands of the cruel and the prejudiced. At this point you might be wondering why bother with such a story, and the answer is that we come to care for this character whose will to survive and to believe in inherent goodness remains intact.

What is interesting as well in this novel is the way Barry captures the vagaries and shifting nature of truth. There is no one objective truth in this novel (as in life), just the different facets of it, as viewed from different points of view and by different individuals. And if truth is a slippery ever shifting thing, memory and history which is supposed to rely on it, can never be fully reconciled. As Roseanne points out, “No one has the monopoly on the truth, and that is vexing and worrying thought.”

So much of the character’s personal history must as well be evaluated against the canvass of history. I am unfortunately not as well versed as I probably should be in Irish history and this made it difficult to wade through all the subtext that presumably Irish readers would be more familiar with. I could never keep track of who was fighting. In this novel, this is an Ireland ravaged by war with deep and lasting enmities. Against such a backdrop, the characters can never escape and are condemned to struggle perpetually against the weight of their own history. It makes it all the more remarkable that Roseanne is able to reach for her own happiness, fleeting though it may be.

A quick go away!

A seulement trois heures de Paris en TGV, Nimes permet une petite échappée dans le Sud. Qui dit Gard, dit beau temps, et c'est appréciable, après deux semaines de pluies parisiennes.

De taille humaine, Nimes est parfaite pour un petit week-end de tourisme, surtout pour les afficiados des vestiges romains. Les trois principaux sont les arènes:

la Maison Carrée (qui est en fait un temple), et la Tour Magne,

dont on a un superbe point de vue sur toute la ville. Mais tout effort mérite salaire, et vice-versa, ce qui veut dire qu'il faut grimper pour cela en haut des Jardins de la Fontaine. Mais comme c'est une magnifique promenade, il n'y a rien à regretter:

Et comme un autre temple (temple de Diane) se cache dans ces jardins, c'est doublement gratifiant:


Les canaux donnent un charme particulier à la vieille, et la nonchalance du Sud est particulièrement bienvenue pour les Parisiens!

A literary treat

There's no doubt that Paris is a literary town. Ernest Hemingway and Henry Miller are but two examples of famous authors who lived in Paris and who really contributed to the literary scene. The tradition continues today with the number of authors passing through to give readings like
Amy Bloom, Louis Erdrich, Cara Black and David Sedaris to name a few. I heard recently that Diane Johnson is coming to promote her new book Lulu in Marrakech.

Such is the appeal of Paris as a literary city that there is as well no shortage of local authors. And I'm happy to say that Red Wheelbarrow Bookstore is hosting two of them for a reading on the 14th of November at 7PM. Red Wheelbarrow invited Anne Marsella to read from her novel Remedy as well as to present her latest novel Patsy Boone. And the other author is Agnes Desarthe, who will be reading from her book Chez Moi. Both are lovely authors whose wonderful books are set in Paris. I'm sure its going to be a great evening and everyone is welcome to join us!

It seems to be a weekend for classic movies. While Red Addict was under the charms of Eliza and Prof. Higgins, we were under the spell of the Condor. Three Days of the Condor that is. It stars Robert Redford and Faye Dunaway and was directed by the late Sydney Pollack.
Redford stars as Joe Turner, an affably bookish researcher for the CIA. His job consists of studying published spy novels and thrillers in an effort to filter out theories and ideas that could threaten the US. In other words, a sanctioned conspiracy theorist and it’s all very obtuse really, but one day he comes back from picking up the office lunch to find that everyone in his office has been killed. He is forced to go on the run as the killers zero in on him. Along the way he kidnaps Dunaway, who later helps him carry out his plan to get to the bottom of the killings.
This is an absorbing spy thriller that is a credit to the genre. Released after the Watergate scandal, the underlying message of the film is that the government cannot be trusted. The film’s atmosphere is suffused with paranoia and there are enough twists and turns so that the audience never really knows till the end who is the bad guy is. And even then, the reason behind the killings remains obscure. It helps the film a great deal that Redford is such a sympathetic character (due largely to his incredible good looks) and you find yourself rooting for him. This in turn, makes it more plausible that Dunaway’s character, despite being initially kidnapped by Redford, throws here lot in with him, going so far as to tumble into bed with him. A bit of a Stockholm syndrome I suppose. What is remarkable about the film is how well it has held up against the test of time. Its message remains chillingly relevant given the increased surveillance on people everywhere and a stringent policy of keeping tabs on the populace’s habits and goings on. It almost feels like anyone can be the Enemy. Who’s to say that we are any safer now than in the good old days of the Cold War, when we had the enemies clearly marked out?

Fil conducteur

My Fair Lady était dans mon esprit inextricablemet lié aux cours d'anglais de mes années collège et lycée. On nous le faisait regarder chaque année, mais organisation foireuse oblige, chaque année, je ne voyais que le début (cela dit, le film durant 2h40mn, cela fait un bon moment).

Etant particulièrement jusqu'au-boutiste, je voulais voir (enfin) la fin, donc quand Warner propose ses promotions anniversaires, le pigeon marketing que je suis ne peut pas résister.

Le film est charmant, et pas tellement désuet. Audrey Hepburn est parfaite pour son rôle, même si je l'ai trouvé davantage irrésistible dans son rôle de flower girl commune qu'en duchesse accomplie (mais j'aurais préféré lui ressembler en duchesse accomplie qu'en flower girl). Son accent populaire a dû representé une somme de travail, mais ses intonations sont brillantes.

Cela devient une habitude, mais le film est peut-être plus intéressant par le fil conducteur qu'il représente dans l'histoire du cinéma.
Le lien avec une autre comédie musicale Une Etoile est née (cf critique) est fait par le réalisateur George Cukor, et on ne peut que constater la similarité des thèmes (l'amour entre la muse et son pygmalion).
De façon beaucoup moins intellectuelle (on a les références quon peut), la scène des courses à Ascot ne peut que faire penser à Pretty Woman,

J'ai probablement raté quantités de références cinématogaphiques, mais il bon parfois savoir que la pelote de laine peut être dévidée.

I’ve always preferred novels to short stories, the longer the better especially for my beloved science fiction/fanstasy tomes. I always thought that short stories were exactly that, too short. Just when you were getting into the story, it came to an end. With time however, the major life style changes took place and there are a few more constraints on my reading time. Short story collections now seem more and more apt for the harried times we live in. More than that, I’ve discovered that the beauty and strength of a short story lies in its ability to contain within its frame the entirety of a story. What limits its form is also its greatest strength. It’s a beautiful paradox which requires a genuinely skilled writer to bring to fruition. And there’s no shortage of great short story writers around, Grace Paley and Alice Munro are but two examples that come to mind. A recent discovery of mine is Amy Bloom, whom I first read through her breakthrough novel Away. As I really liked Away, I was a bit hesitant to start with her short stories for fear of being disappointed. Fortunately, Amy proved to be every bit formidable in short story form as with the novel.
I decided to start with her debut collection appropriate titled Come to Me. The running theme through this collection is love, in all its forms and all the ways by which we seek, destroy and nurture love. But this is by no means a fairy tale collection of maidens and princes with their happy ever after stories. Instead we have stories of flawed people struggling with death (Love is not a Pie, Sleepwalking and Semper Fidelis), madness and illness (Silver Water) and loneliness (Light Breaks Where No Sun Shines and When the Year Grows Old). As I was reading these stories, I marveled at Amy’s skill of making potentially unpalatable stories, more palatable, beguiling even, in their twisted sort of way.
What leavens the potential for despair in her stories is the palpable sense of hope that permeates these stories and the rich empathy with which Bloom writes their tales. In this day and age where a true happy ending begins to seem like a myth, Bloom offers us stories of the next best thing—the possibility of happiness and that all important second chance.

Currently running at the Cite de la Musique till the 1st of March 2009 is an exhibition on Serge Gainsbourg. One of France’s most beloved composer and singer, there is no doubting the influence that Serge Gainsbourg has exerted over the years. What this exhibition does is to present a rich trove of material on his life and works. And if you look carefully, much of the material was donated by his daughter Charlotte from her own collection. There are over a hundred pictures and television clips spanning the forty fruitful years of his career as well as interviews with numerous people he worked with. For the benefit of attendees, notably those not so familiar with his work, the exhibition also takes pains to highlight certain milestone periods of his career and the way he took the current trends and made it his own. He was an artist frequently way ahead of the times and the exhibition shows this facet of the man. It was fascinating to discover how much work he was able to produce. I didn’t even realize that he had published a book (Evguenie Sokolov) or that he had directed films. Another fascinating detail I learned was that he was so shy that he stopped performing in public in 1968! For such a provocateur, that was a real surprise. Of course, we can’t talk about Gainsbourg without dealing with his controversial private life and the exhibition doesn’t flinch from it. There are photos (some more provocative than others) of the famous women he was with, Brigitte Bardot and Jane Birkin, to name just two of the more prominent ones.

The nicest part about this exhibition is the room showing all the records he ever made. It was an impressive sight to see them all lined up against the wall. But even better than seeing the records are the computers set up where visitors could listen to a great number of extracts of his music, as well as the musicians that inspired him in all his long years. It also includes commentaries on his music. This is an invaluable resource and alone merits the visit to the exhibition. And because the organizers were nothing if not thorough, they have arranged for special showings of films Gainsbourg loved and more importantly, different tribute concerts throughout the period of the exhibition. All in all, this is a great way to spend a precious Saturday afternoon.

For practical details, feel free to consult the following site..

http://www.cite-musique.fr/francais/musee/expo_temporaires.aspx#

Souvenirs nostalgiques

Arrière petit-fils de René Coty (ex-président de la République pour ceux qui ont une absence), Benoît Duteurtre livre ses souvenirs. Ni autobiographie, ni roman, Les pieds dans l'eau a pour personnage principal Etretat, station balnéaire des parisiens aisés (et chics).

Cela pourrait être plein d'arrogance, c'est plein de charme. Décidément la société a changé, quand on compare cet ex-président à celui d'aujourd'hui. On y évoque certes René Coty et sa descendance, mais surtout on découvre une tranche de vie que"les plus jeunes ne peuvent pas comprendre" mais qu'ils peuvent pourtant regretter (ou pas).

Ce récit vaut par ses descriptions sur cette société en mutation vu par un enfant qui va devenir adulte. Une vie assez ordinaire malgré ses origines, et qui passera sans inconfort d'un milieu social à un autre. Ainsi que pour ses évocations d'Etretat qui semble être une ville balnéaire au charme désuet. On est bien loin du bing-bling d'aujourd'hui, Côte d'Azur et St Tropez en tête...

A trio to listen to

Our cultural weekend theme continued today with a visit to the Cité de la Musique near the Parc de la Villette. We were invited to watch the Jobic Le Masson trio in concert as part of the ongoing tribute to Serge Gainsbourg (more about the exhibition later on) at the Cité. I’d first heard the jazz trio play at Sunside at the launch of Hill, their first CD and was very impressed with their music. All but one of the songs in Hill are original compositions of Jobic Le Masson and I’m proud to say that he is as talented as the reviews say. And the cd as good as the reviews. Since the first concert, I’ve tried to watch their concerts as often as I could. Today was another good occasion to listen to them play and once again they didn’t disappoint. Playing in three sets of half an hour each, the trio played a selection of Gainsbourg tunes adapted in their inimitable jazz style. And while I confess to have a preference for the piano, Peter Giron on bass and John Betsch on drums are by no means laggards in musical talent. What is really cool about their group is the obvious ease (even affection) they have with each other which translates into a melodious collaborative effort among the three. And for the audience it is a real pleasure to listen to their seamless and always innovative way of playing. Today this ease was once more on display at the concert and if a number of their audience were below the majority age, all the better for them to discover early on what great jazz should sound like.

Here's John on drums..

Lest you remain unconvinced, I invite you to listen to the trio play and discover for yourself the music of the Le Masson trio. Here is the website where you can check for their concert schedules and listen to extracts of their music. http://jobic.lemasson.free.fr/

Here is their CD ...

An Art Afternoon

If last weekend was devoted to Cars, this weekend is shaping up to be devoted to art. This weekend the Grand Palais and the Cour du Louvre is the place to be for the 35th annual Foire Internationale D’Art Contemporain, or more simply known as FIAC. This year’s FIAC hosted two hundred participants, of which 114 were foreign exhibitors. And I can tell you that they had a very fine and diverse selection of modern and contemporary art.
Our visit started with, funnily enough, champagne (thanks to a friend who had invited us to a private “brunch” if you will) and a guided visit. And when we had finished the guided visit, we leisurely made our way among the different stands and it proved to be one of the most visually arresting visits I’d ever made outside a museum. Imagine if you will, the variety of modern artists available for viewing under the elegant completely restored dome of the Grand Palais, where the autumnal light bathed everything in a rosy light, and you can see why it makes for one of those unforgettable afternoons. Unlike literature with its more easily categorized characteristics for what distinguishes bad from good, art appreciation tilts more towards the subjective. All the more so when the art in question is modern or contemporary. The question of what makes something a piece of art as opposed to squiggles on a canvas, is never a line drawn in stone. For me (as I imagine it is for other people) the line is more often than not drawn where the piece of work touches or moves me, an answering call, if you will, to the art work’s siren call. What is clear is that modern art provokes questions, debate and contemplation as to why we should consider it as art. Whether or not we agree on what we like or dislike, what is most reassuring is that artists nowadays are more free than ever to experiment, and express, in whatsoever way they choose, their artistic urgings. And there are people ready to support such endeavors.

This year's FIAC ran the gamut from established artists like Warhol, Basquiat and Calder to relatively new comers who had some very interesting works.

Here are a few of the more striking ones..

Untitled (Union Street) by Gregory Crewdson-- we were surprised to learn that this photo is actually a composed one. The artist had painstakingly assembled each and every element in this photo to create what we can see now...




The bronze sculpture that is the model for the the large Kate Moss free standing scuplture called Sphinx by Mark Quinn...

The Nebula Crab, again by Mark Quinn. A genuinely interesting artist whose been known to use his own blood (among other things) in his art work..

One by Alexander Calder..

A personal favorite...one by Mimmo Rotella

And because this weekend is devoted to art, we had the pleasures of the Petit Palais waiting for us at the end of our FIAC visit. A short hop across the street and we were in the equally elegant interiors of the Petit Palais where the Patrick Demarchelier exhibition is currently running. And while Red Addict has already done a great job reviewing said exhibition, permit me to add a few words.

What struck me the most about the exhibition was the clever juxtaposition of the temporary exhibition with the permanent collection of the Petit Palais. It permits the viewer to discover the works of Patrick Demarchelier and at the same time view an older artwork with fresh eyes. To view them was to see mirror images that echoed each other despite a difference in a few hundred years between their creation. And it allows for a deeper appreciation for both works despite their seeming disparity.

One with Sandra Bernhard and French First Lady Carla Bruni-Sarkozy...both could have been called Portrait of a strong willed woman

Ideas of the feminine beauty...one by Courbet, others by Demarchelier

While Demarchelier is most renowned for his fashion pictures, he was also an excellent portraitist..

And last but not the least but just because I thought this was funny..