Subarctic Crime

On the last competition day of the Festival I managed to see 3 more films. I started with “Lou,” an Australian entry about a young family, a 27 year-old mother of 3 daughters. In financial crisis they take in the deadbeat dad’s father played by John Hurt. As he can no longer care for himself properly, the state will pay for his care. The 12-year-old, Lou [-ise] reacts with outrage and petulance; she must give up her room to this intruder who, in his own words is “losing his marbles.” The younger girls are taken with his talk of the sea and exotic lands. Hurt’s character is smitten with Lou mistaking her for his wife Annie who abandoned him at the onset of his memory loss. The writer/director, Belinda Chayko walks a very dangerous line in the development of the relationship between the lost and delusional Doyle and the precocious and rebellious Lou. We are taken into the fears, suspicions, misunderstandings and ignorance that are manifest by the caretakers and the cared for. This is an important film for its heart and its hope. The performances are first rate and the cinematography is gorgeous particularly the night burning of the cane fields a subtle metaphor visited throughout the film. Racing cross-town I just managed to slip into “Lope,” a Brazilian costume drama by Andrucha Waddington. Set in baroque Spain it chronicles the youthful indiscretions of Lope de Vega, perhaps the most prolific author of all times. It’s a sexy, swashbuckling adventure with fine performances and exquisite art direction. My last film of the day was a long and often tiring Swedish thriller about a young ambitious and amoral student looking for a get rich scheme. “Easy Money” follows JW as he sinks deeper and darker into the criminal underworld of modern Sweden. Is this a trend? Steig Larsson, Henning Menkell, Sjowall & Wahloo [sorry, I still can’t make diacritical marks], Lackberg and many others have created a genre some call “subarctic crime.” Jens Lapidus, like Larsson, has written [is writing] a trilogy aptly titled “The Swedish Noir Trilogy.” This is the first installment and the novel as well as the film are big hits in Sweden. The film may not get the same reception here, as it is extremely slow. Still, it has a lot going for it and as a lover of all “noir” I can certainly recommend it to the like-minded.
Oh, yeah, I saw Elliot Gould at the premiere of "The Encore of Eddie Duran."

Museums

It’s Saturday the 26th at 6AM. I slept pretty well thanks to the cachaca.
It is Museum day and I got my recommendations from Renata who is a student of design.
I will start with MAM. The exhibit is called Seu Sami [Mr. Sami] and the artist is Hilal Sami Hilal born of Syrian heritage. Christian and Islamic elements intermingle in themes of writing, music and psychoanalysis. In the main hall there were 3 pieces. The first was a suspended cube made up of panels of squares separated by a distance equal to the width of an individual square. There is a labyrinth made up of large bound volumes with the pages extended and bound into another book. Each book has half the pages going in one binding and half going into another. Each attached binding has half of its pages bound into another book. All the books are on end and by the way they are positioned create a pathway inviting the viewer on a short journey. There is a platform containing hundreds of smaller pieces that he refers to as a library. Much of the work is in the form of books and pages made of fabric, handmade paper, foil, thread and other materials. Many of these pieces contain elements that make up the last and truly wonderful tribute to his father. In a large dark room with wall-to-wall mirrors at both ends there are four “hangings” not unlike the panels in the first piece but much larger. They hang from the ceiling a little away from the wall to play some with shadows, and then they flow onto the floor for about four feet. The mirrors make them look twice as large and you don’t know there are mirrors until you get up next to them. These grids are covered with thread and wads of handmade paper in a calligraphic manner that suggests something different in each of the four. The second on is virtually Rococo with ornate swirls, curlicues, palmettes and the like. It also shows the color variation even though they are all very monochromatic. The last one is disturbing. As you turn to it you lose the sense of calligraphy and see instead a visual cacophony of barbed wire, amplified by the shadows.
My next stop was the Centro Cultural Banco do Brasil, for the exhibit called Ostropicos: Visoes a Partit do Centro do Globo. The exhibit includes about 130 works from Berlin’s Museum of Ethnology and works from contemporary artists from South Africa, Germany, Singapore, Spain, Ethiopia, England, Peru, Switzerland and Brazil. The use of thematic groups was freely and associatively guided by Claude Levi-Straus’s Mythologiques series. The fabrics on exhibit were the most beautiful I have ever seen. The micro-weaving and delicate embroidery were breathtaking. I know I’m gushing but I love fabric.
My last stop was Casa Franca-Brasil, which was showing an extraordinary collection of the works of Jean Baptiste Debret, an 18th Century French Artist, Botanist, Anthropologist and all around culture maven. He must have spent a lot of time here, as his work is extensive. Etchings, watercolors, botanical drawings, oils of historical import, and portraiture document the birth of this amazing country. Check him out on the net.
I am back to my room and am going to sleep for a while as this cold has me exhausted. I did discover the joys of the soft serve cone from Hamburger Bob’s down the street. Oh sweet relief!

Academia do Cachaca

Flavio, his family and I had dinner at the Academy of Cachaca [Academia da Cachaca]. Not far from their home on the edge of a small shopping center on a tree-lined road by the lagoon sits a gem of a bar/bistro. It is dedicated to cachaca and offers dozens of brands. We tried a few caipirinhas [the passion fruit version won hands down] which are served with or with out "sugar." We chose the sugar-less. Then we went on to the shots of "good" cachaca. It was very much like the old tequila craze or sampling "good" grappa. It is very much like grappa, Dinner was shredded beef on garbanzos with tiny Habanera-like peppers that pack quite a whollop! I called it an early night and crashed for a good 8 hours. My first real sleep in two days. If you are interested in cachaca and caipirinhas check out www.caipirinha.us.

Corcovado

Flavio picked me up out in front of the hotel at noon. We headed out to Santa Teresa, a district of old stately homes, shops, boutiques and restaurants. The circuitous and climbing road passed several favelas along the way. They seem to be regarded as just another part of the city, but another part of the city you want nothing to do with. They are still extremely dangerous and incredibly well armed. Would that our military had their resources. Apparently all the weaponry comes from Paraguay. The police are also so deeply entrenched in the weapons dealing there that they end up trading the favelas weapons that are ultimately used to fight them. Along the wonderful and exciting tram system are very good restaurants and shops. We stopped at Bar do Mineiro to sample their feijoada, a thick stew of black beans and pork with spices. We shared a single order, which we could not finish. It is served with rice, dried manioc powder [farofa], and a strange vegetable/salad green like nothing I have seen, It appears as shredded leaves but that may be its natural state and it has small pod-like growths about the size of a pea. They seem to have been sliced very thin which suggests the shredding. Hot sauce is a must and you wash it all down with ice cold Atlantica Beer which resembles Heineken. We then headed for Corcovado and the Christo Redentor, in the Floresta da Tijuca, the largest urban jungle in the world. It makes Golden Gate Park look like a tiny corner in my unkempt back yard. Some of the most breath-taking panoramas are afforded from this massive platform crowned by Brazil’s equivalent of the Statue of Liberty. In 1931 this 100 foot tall icon was hauled up to the top fo Corcovado [it means "hunchback"]some 2275 feet on and old rack railway built in 1884 [it is still running and the most popular way to get to the top]. The statue is reinforced concrete clad in soapstone and it sits on a 27 foot pedestal. It was designed by Heitor da Silva Costa and Carlos Oswaldo and was created in France overseen by Paul landowski who also scupted the face and hands.

Rio

The flight from SFO to MIA was cramped and uncomfortable. I had an aisle seat but could not put my feet out for all the flight attendants. American Airlines has not cut corners on attendants. MIA to GIG [Rio] was the same, This time I had a bulk head. I remember when that meant more leg room. It was as tight as the early flight but the wall was hard compared to the soft back of the seat in front of me. Advice to all… don’t get tall, don’t get fat, and do get rich [enough to afford business class]. We were fed [twice!] on the MIA>GIG flight which was a surprise for me. It took 8.5 hours and most of that was spent over the Brazilian jungle. This country is huge! Watching the flight path gives you a real sense of it’s size. We landed a little late and waited in a very long line to go through passport control. They let the crew and the infirm jump the line which is understandable but they also permitted families with small children to jump to the front which was kind of charming. When we got to baggage our bags were already out. All out except one. My new hard-body Samsonite with the wine and gifts and toiletries is missing. They were confident that I would get it before the ship leaves and “if not, we will send it to meet you in Bahia.” An airport employee whisked me through customs without a glance at my bags. He acted like he was mortified that they had lost my bag.
I paid up-front for a “radio” taxi to take me to the hotel [80 reals = about $40.] during rush hour. It looked a lot like Havana. Incredibly beautiful 19th century buildings were crumbling from lack of respect. Then we finally made it to Copacabana Beach and my hotel. The Lancaster Othon is from [my guess] the 40s and 50s. It’ a bit shabby but clean and well functioning. I sat out on the beach across the street for an hour or so. Copacabana is only one of several world-class beaches in Rio. It is situated on the south coast of the city. Roberto Burle Marx designed the "wave" mosaic sidewalk that runs the length of the beach. The calcadao [black and white paving stones] are Portuguese in origin. The sidewalks closer to the hotels and other buildings are in more geometric patterns varying from block to block.