Citrus Cinema and Bluegrass

Tangerines is a hopeful story of reason, respect and compassion overcoming nationalistic nonsense, bigotry, and misplaced ethnic pride.  Ivo and Markus are the only two Estonians left in the war-torn region of Georgia c. 1992.  They are growing Tangerines and stay out of the way of the fighters.  A skirmish happens on the road between their homes and there are two badly wounded survivors.  Achmed, the mercenary Chechen has met Ivo before and knows he is an honorable man; the young Georgian, Nika is too young to have formed his hatreds.  As they recover they respect Ivo's declaration that his home is a neutral zone and no killing will take place there.  Ivo's goodness, his simple needs and simple ways inspire changes in the two soldiers that are not fully realized until a bizarre encounter threatens all of them.  This is a lovely exploration of goodness that can be found in almost everyone if you know where to look.

Love and Lemons is a Swedish/Norwegian co-production in the vein of Big Night, Eat,Drink, Man, Woman, Todays Special and so many others.  The subject of trying to make restaurant work has been used by film makers so often that it has become a cliché.  This film works because of the performances and the sweet backstory.  The lead, Rakel Wärmländer, is quite good but she is still written to commit numerous acts of reckless idiocy again, directed by a woman! but see it anyway.

My last film of the Fest was The Broken Circle Breakdown from Belgium.  It's a real tearjerker but the wonderful character development carries it out of the maudlin.  Handled in sometimes awkward flashbacks we meet Elise and Didier.  Elise works in a tattoo parlor [sporting much of her profession all over her lovely body] and Didier is a farmer who plays in a bluegrass band.  They fall in love, move in together, have a child and then life punches them in the gut.  The music is authentic, the cast is accomplished [a cameo by Borgman star Jon Bijvoet] and the writing top drawer.

Slow Food Story

This is a wonderfully informative and entertaining portrait of a true revolutionary who channelled his political verve into the most influential gastronomic enterprise in the world.  "Carlin" Petrini is the godfather of good, clean and fair food.  From his founding of Arcigola in 1986 to the establishment of the The University of Gastronomic Sciences in Pollenza, a suburb of Bra in Northern Italy we follow Petrini's life and work through testimonials from food gods the world over including our own Alice Waters.  Petrini was born in Bra 64 years ago, and as a young radical contributed culinary articles to various Communist publications.  His passion for food and wine was instrumental in the founding of an Italian wine bank, seed banks, fish fairs, cheese fairs and the world's largest food and wine fair, The Salon del Gusto in Turin.  He continues to promote bio-diversity the world over spending much the and energy promoting his ideas in third world countries.  Let us hope that the raven Film Complex has the foresight to book this film when it becomes available in the US

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Saint Paul de Vence

After waking at 5AM and looking to the BowCam for any sight of land I showered and grabbed the camera and computer and headed for cyberland to wait for the sun to come up. About 6:15 the sky behind the ship was a rich pink and lights were appearing off the port side. There is a new pier in Monte Carlo but they were setting up a fireworks barge and we had to drop anchor off shore. A flotilla of tenders carried everyone to shore where we contracted with a taxi to take us to Saint Paul de Vence. We had originally planned a HAL excursion but found out it would be returning to the ship at 12 or 12:30PM and our reservation at L’Colombe D’Or was for noon. Gerard Fontaine picked us up at the pier within 5 minutes of calling him. He was driving a new Mercedes crossover that I had not seen before. It was very comfortable and got us to St. Paul in under an hour. I took his number to call him when we wanted to return. The drive was charming and picaresque but hardly prepared us for the beauty of St. Paul. We passed a small dirt plaza where older gentlemen were playing petanque. We watched for a while then headed into the village. We walked up through an ancient gate to an artistically cobbled road that was wide enough for small car but certainly nothing larger. Most of the shops were galleries of modern art and most of it wasn’t very sophisticated. Picasso, Leger, Miro and Chagall must be turning over in their graves at what now passes for fine art. But nothing could sully the beauty of this place. The first thing Dotty said when we started to climb into the village was “I could live here.” It must be a sentiment that gets echoed in these corridors 100s of times a day. After an hour of sightseeing and people watching we headed to the restaurant. We were seated under a lime tree with a view down the valley. The menus were huge Chagall-esque affairs with everything a bright crayola French. We ordered the fresh crudités and the hors d'oeuvre. What arrived at the table was a basket of fresh produce [radishes, celery, beets, zucchini, etc.]; it was accompanied by a terrine of pate, olives, bread, anchovy sauce and hard-boiled eggs. It was enough food for 8. The hors d'oeuvre consisted on 14 ramekins filled with the most incredible and varied treats. We had deep fried anchovies, red cabbage “slaw,” Sautéed mushrooms, blood sausage, marinated fish, stewed fish, saffron rice with peas, corn and bell pepper, huge white beans, garbanzos, lightly oiled and grilled sun-dried tomatoes, green cabbage “slaw,” Tiny stuffed and baked zucchini, lentils, and I guess one more I can’t remember. I had a wonderful sole with a dijonaise, Jim & Dotty both had steaks, Craig Had shrimp and an enormous mixed green salad that must have had 3 sliced tomatoes… not 3 slices but 3 tomatoes, sliced. We washed it down with the house Rose that was perfection. We called another cabbie, Daniel, one of 2 in St. P dV and rode back to the ship. BTW, one never asks for a cab in Italy, France or Monaco. They don’t seem to know the word. It is taxi and only taxi. The fare is pretty steep on the Cote d’Azur… 120 Euros each way. The standard fare listed at the port to go to St.PdV was 130 Euros. Tomorrow is a restful day at sea.

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.

MIA - La Carreta

Well, MIA [Miami International Airport] is a piece of work. I have heard tales of no one speaking English; simply not true on any level. There are plenty of people speaking Spanish, many with a distinct Cuban accent, but they all speak English and well. The layout and signage here is an absolute nightmare… And the international flights are interspersed with the domestic which can be a good thing but it can also mean miles and miles of walking without any way to tell if you are going in the right direction. But there are helpful people everywhere so I eventually found my way to La Carreta! Oh, happy day! It is a large cafeteria–style restaurant which is always crowded. You first encounter the deserts… when you are most hungry. The selection is pie-heavy, followed by cheesecakes then regular cakes, tres leches, flan, rice pudding and on an on. The pie crust [probably lard-based is about a quarter inch thick; it makes the pie look like a cheesecake. Among the traditional pie choices I found guava pie… say no more. I write more about the menu later. I have to purchase a WiFi pass to upload this. The menu was extensive with all the regular Cuban fare, ropas viejas, moros y cristianos, platanos [virtually caramelized and decadent]. Next post Rio.