The King's Speech

AOG, London

I just saw the Oscar ceremony, and I have to say I'm slightly disappointed by the election of The King's Speech as the winning movie. As the best movie of the year. 

I had a hard time picturing this film as a contender for the crown in the first place, and given the competition, it is surprising that it won.

I saw it a few weeks ago and I remember leaving the movie theater feeling a bit... well, a bit like nothing had really happened. 

No great climax, no interesting insights, no great idea. 

The story is simple enough, the next in line to the  British throne, the future George VI,  has a speech impediment and an Australian speech therapist (played by  the great Geoffrey Rush) helps him to speak well. 

There you go, that is the whole movie right there. 

You'd think that being a British film (and this is the reason why it won, because in the US, anything British and Royal at the same time is a surefire winner) they could have done a bit more work on the plot. 

But no, in fact, poor Mr. Firth, who is a very good actor, and now one with an Oscar under his belt (yes, though we all know the Oscar is really for his performance last year in A Single Man) pretty much carries the weight of the whole movie on his shoulders.

Helena Bonham-Carter, as the future Queen Mother, is good at, well, at being Helena Bonham-Carter playing a royal person, not at actually playing the Queen Elizabeth, the Queen Mother herself. I saw a similar performance of hers in Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland a few months ago. Less manic, but just as "royal".

All this time, when people have asked me about the movie, all I have been able to muster has been that it is a "nothing film". And that is all it is. 

A pretty (though it could have been more spectacular), simple (though it could have been slightly more complicated), very well acted movie based on a few stories concerning King George VI, himself a very interesting character (the last Emperor of India, the last King of Ireland  &c.). 

And it is odd that no more was made of his life, that all that mattered was that one speech problem and that all else was superseded to it. And believe me, there was more. Of the relationship between  George VI and his brother, King Edward VIII. 

Of the strained relationship with Wallis Simpson and what she meant for the future of the monarchy -sadly played by Eve Best, a British actress playing the infamous American divorcée -credited for coining the famous boutade "You can never be too rich or to thin". 

To say nothing of the awful performance delivered by Claire Bloom as Queen Mary. Yes, a miscast. Or perhaps not well directed. 

I remember that whenever she popped into the screen I would try really hard to make myself believe that she was Queen Mary, and not just an actress in period costume. She was too young to play her perhaps. Too...unroyal, if there be such a word.

But I don't want to kill the movie completely. It does have some very interesting performances. Derek Jacobi, for one, is amazing in his part as Archbishop Cosmo Lang. Evil, and nervy, he is a very memorable character. 

As is the  wonderful aforementioned  Geoffrey  Rush as Lionel Logue. 

The movie has a few moments of hilarity here and there, but they, in my humble opinion, were not fully exploited. So, I'm glad it won, it is not a bad movie, but, as I said, it is just a 'nothing film'. 

I would have given True Grit the Oscar. But then, I am slightly biased... 

Lost & Found

AOG, Madrid

This is the first post of January. I've been thinking about it for a long while but, frankly, I have been busy with "stuff" and I figured I just had to get the blog started somehow so as not to do what I did last year which was to leave it alone for months on end. So here goes.

So, what do I have to say for myself on this fine morning?

Well, if I may recap the past 13 days, the year ended in a more boring way than 2009 and at the end of it all, over the holiday season I  realized I'd found some things, and lost some others. 

Some, if you like, I found for a second time, since they had been, if not lost, then certainly misplaced, long ago. 

To celebrate the end of 2010, my partner and I went to the same Bar in Soho we did last year, with two friends of ours who also met with us on that occasion. 

Unfortunately, this time around the premises were was a bore-fest of almost epic proportions.

Why? Perhaps the economic climate had something to do with it. I don't know. But we were all a bit disappointed by the events. Something got lost in the past 364 days inside that place. 

The culmination of the night last year had been the broadcasting on television of the events down by the Thames -Big Ben, fireworks-, as well as the broadcasting of the celebrations around the rest of the planet up to that point. But this year, the bar in question decided to keep the TV off throughout. We all thought they would turn it on closer to the hour of midnight. But nothing. At midnight, all they did was play the Big Ben recording and some music. Anticlimax does not even begin to cover it. We felt like we'd been cheated somehow. I don't think we'll be going there again next year. 

Eventually we went home around 2:30 AM, and, on the first of January 2011 we went to the movies.

I have to say that the only other time I remember going to the movies on January 1st, was back in 1980. And it was nice to remember this. A memory I got back, and for which I am grateful.

We -my family and I- were living in Mexico City at the time, and I still remember that evening.

My mother, my sister and I left home in the evening; it was cold and dark outside, and we took a cab to the movie theater at the Plaza Universidad shopping center. I remember this because we always went there, the first shopping experience of my life. 

The first time I saw that famous Farrah Fawcett poster I was there. 

And my first Levi's and Lee ads, those with the feet and the sand, I was there. 


It was there where I saw my first ever copy of my favorite  late childhood/early teenagehood magazine: Vampirella. 

But back to films. The movie in question? 

Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back.  It was a movie I could not wait to see.

The next installment of the Spielberg saga, Return of the Jedi, we would watch in Houston, Texas, roughly three years later. 

I remember thinking how exciting it was that the movie theater would be open on such a day, and of how grown up I felt for leaving home on a public holiday. 

And I was over the moon that this movie was out. I think the Star Wars saga is one of the first, if not the first, movie I was anxious to see as a child. There was something about them that mesmerized me back then. 

I don't know quite what it was, perhaps an early form of infantile escapism? I don't know for sure. But I do know that something went on in my psyche back then which, to a large degree, is still with me now.

Childhood was slowly coming to an end, and a new and exciting period of my life was beginning. But, of course, at the time, I knew nothing of this.We never do, do we?

Fast Forward to 2011. My partner and I also decided on a Sci-Fi saga, but of a different caliber: Tron Legacy.

I have to say, the movie is visually spectacular., much like the original was at the time, yes. But the plot is a bit of a turnip, and I can't really say what the movie is about. 

But, of course, the Special FX are amazing and you can watch the movie and listen to the soundtrack on your iPod and not worry about missing the plot. 

The other movie we watched over the holidays was the Spanish animated film Chico & Rita. 




It was drawn by Javier Mariscal, one of Spain's top designers (and responsible for Barcelona's 1992 Olympic logo) and directed by the Spanish Oscar winning director, Fernando Trueba. 

We watched it in Spanish and my personal anecdote of the film is that, whilst listening to the dialogues, I thought to myself that they reminded me of the speech that some of the characters have in Pedro Juan Gutiérrez's novels, such as the King of Havana or Dirty Havana Trilogy.


Imagine my surprise when the movie credits roll and I read his name as the speech consultant on the dialogues! I must admit that Gutiérrez was one of my favorite authors of 2010 and I read both aforementioned novels this past year thanks to a work colleague who introduced him to me.

I was able to distinguish his literary speech style in a film and I was very happy with myself that afternoon and for a few days afterwards.  Certainly, watching the film has made me want to revisit Havana 10 years on.

Perhaps the only sad point of these past few days was the fact that I left one book on the plane. Something I've never done before.

It was a short book on the life and times of Emperor Augustus Caesar. 

I had only just begun to read it, having bought it two weeks before, and was hoping to finish it in a couple of days. 

Yesterday I went to the place where I bought it, a second-hand book store on Santa Catalina's Square, but they didn't have another copy. 

I am thinking about contacting the airport to see if it was turned in by the stewards on the plane. One never knows.

Avatar

AOG, Madrid

Just saw the movie Avatar, by the director James Cameron.

First impressions: very weak writing, predictable throughout, way too long, and, yes, very good special effects.

The movie has flaws as deep as the cheekbones on the Na’vi. For example, if you’ve ever heard of General Custer or Sitting Bull, you are in familiar territory.

The indigenous people are a XIX century caricature of the customs of native peoples everywhere.

They behave a bit like animals sometimes, grunting, growling, and showing their teeth, and in the next scene, they are all doing some sort of Cumbaya around a tree with glo-worms everywhere.

Please note that in the film, the character Neytiri’s mother, the Shaman of the tribe, speaks with a Jamaican accent when she speaks English. And the locals all have braided hair and ride horses like the Apache did.

Oh, and yes, in the future, everyone speaks English on Earth. And the natives, although a different species, can pick it up quite quickly. Handy, yes?

If you’ve seen Aliens (also a Cameron movie), then the Evil Space Corporation from Earth reprise will not surprise you. How ironic that Sigourney Weaver stars in both films.

But there are other things that will remind of you Aliens. Gadgets, insults (like "Bitch"), characters, etc.

There are gaps in the story line, a couple of loose ends, and, unfortunately, although it is meant to be in the future, everything that happens is quite modern. Like all! There is no futuristic moral message.

The entire movie is like watching a Native American tribe being kicked out of their land by white men in 1920. Flying machines versus bows and arrows. Warriors against soldiers. Yes, you’ve seen it all before, but done better.

And no, in case you are wondering, there are no gay people in the future and the Na’vi are a species which likes to paint its body and biologically connect with the local fauna, but nothing which might even hint at homosexuality, though, and this might be a bit of a shocker, zoophlilia is well catered for.

"Feel her strong legs, now her hearbeat and yours are one".

Gimme a break!

There are also no fat humans, or fat Na'vi, they are all slim and tall and athletic, and the blue beings don't age. Or at least not with wrinkles.

All in all, it is sad to see that Sci Fi has not yet moved beyond Minority Report, Aliens, Apocalypse Now, Gorillas in the Mist, Disney’s Cimarron and Predator.

The movie feels a lot like a two-and-a-half hour long video game.

It doesn't help that it looks like a beautiful one too most of the time.

Planet Japan:Day 2

AOG, Tokyo

We woke up tired from the previous day's events. Tired, but wired, of course. This city is too energetic to let yourself down.

We decided to try and find a bargain of sorts and headed towards the electronic emporium that is Akihabara.

Shinjuku Station

Ok, you know those movies where Central Station shows and you see a sea of people moving to and fro? How romantic, right? Well, forget about that. No station on this planet sees the amount of people as Shinjuku does.

The place is huge, but not like in New York. It is mostly underground, has many levels (including a shopping mall which extends 7 stories up and a couple down), and it is very like a labyrinth.

The first you notice is that Japanese society is very quiet. At least it is quiet at a personal level. We very quickly noticed that the loudest sound thousands of people made in that low-ceilinged place was the one made by their footsteps. But it is not the only sound.

The other sound is the announcements on the tannoy. But even those sound almost whisper like. Feminine voices sprout forth orders and commands almost as though they were little girls. It is the polite way.

I have to say that working out the ticket machines was not as daunting as we first thought it would be. They all have an "English" button.

And the great thing about Tokyo's transit system is that if you underpay, all you have to do is go to the JR or Subway desk found at every station on the network and pay the difference.

No penalty, no punishment, no social shame (how unlike London, by the way). It is good advice to buy the cheapest (130 Yen) ticket, hop on board, and pay the difference at your final destination.

The other thing you notice is how orderly the citizens of Japan get on the trains. The floor is painted where the doors will open on the edge of the platform, so you know where to line up.

Another thing about Japan, they don't like to crowd each other, so personal space is much larger than what you'd think. When we stood at our first street crossing, we were amazed at the distance between people. In fact, their system actually works better than ours. Since they are spaced apart, when both sides of the street cross, there is very little bumping into people, and you cross much faster.

At times I get the feeling that the Japanese have thought of everything...but they haven't, of course. Here and there, little "disruptions" are to be found. But more on those later.

The trains are always clean, always efficient, and always on time. If there is a delay, they tell you, and they inform you of the next train to arrive in its place. Also, the frequency of the trains is amazing.

I have to say that Madrid is superior to London in this respect. Train frequency is very good. But when compared to Tokyo, Madrid is definitely snail-paced. Never mind London!

It is as if every station has a continuous line of trains which is spaced out by a few minutes of tranquility. It is definitely non-stop transport. The only downside is that it shuts for the day around midnight, or half past. Hence the upsurge in Capsule hotels.

We took the JR train (Japan Railways) from Shinjuku and marveled as Tokyo sped past us at full speed. This city, fortunately, still keeps its Edo period roots here and there.

Read the Wikipedia article on Tokyo here.

It appears that Tokyo is crisscrossed by many rivers and canals. Next to these, it is not unusual to see the odd cluster of traditional homes (one or two story houses), and, a few minutes later, a high tech spectacle of lights and modern architecture.

Modern in Tokyo, however, often means a building from the 1960s or 1970s with a huge neon sign on top of it.

And another building from, perhaps, the 1980s, next to that one. Then a traditional building. Then one with no advertising. Then one which could be private apartments. And then, once again, modern neons and glare.

When we got off the JR, we walked right into the electronic district.

We were hungry so we thought, after taking some pictures, to get some lunch.

We found an alley and decided to walk into it, in the hope of finding some sort of decent grub somewhere.

Most places looked unappetizing at first sight, so we continued walking until we found the closest thing to what we thought resembled a restaurant the kind of which we could both withstand and understand without too much hassle. Which we did, eventually.

We walked in only to be told it was closing by an angry old man from the counter. The waitress had told us to sit down just one second before, so we were a bit confused. Then, out of nowhere, a younger man came out and told us it was almost 2 O'Clock, and it was "last orders".

So they acquiesced to our presence, and fed us some delicious sushi. It was not to be the first time we ate this.

With our bellies full, we walked back to the 7 story monster which is the electronic city of Yodobashi Camera.

Each floor contains a particular product and even, we were surprised to find, a bookshop and a branch of Tower Records.

After a myriad of wires, lights, photographic equipment, computers, accessories, Jewel Cases, Cell Phones, Headphones of all shapes and sizes, and the biggest television set my eyes have ever seen outside of a Hollywood movie (around 70K Euros if you are curious), the music was a welcome sight for sore eyes.

We saw hundreds of things, many of which we had no clue what they might be useful for, and spent hours inside that cyber-cage. Eventually we left, once we realised that any hope of taking photographs today had vanished. The light was gone.

So we left, having bought a couple of small items (prices are as high as they are in Europe, no bargains here in Tokyo). Once outside, we were surprised to see a small section of the street cordoned-off and filled with people staring at their mobiles.

In Japan, you cannot smoke on the street (though you can, it seems, everywhere else), and they have designated smoking areas. But no one was smoking, they were all looking down. We read on the guide book that most people in Japan access the internet from their cell phones, and they are right.

Everywhere we went, time after time, all we saw was people with their head down, staring at their phones. Not actually speaking, mind you, but reading, or typing away. I suppose it has something to do with their love of silence, or their respect for others.

So we headed back to the hotel, changed, and went out to for a drink.

Ni-chome part 2: Japanese Bar culture

Since it was still rather early, we decided to head back to Gregorios. It was open. And empty. We were the only people at this Jazz/Karaoke bar. Our friend from Barcelona had been there just a few days before us, and the bar Master (that's Master-san to you) remembered them well. In Japan, bar Masters decide who gets in and who does not. Simple as that.

They served us our drinks and we started talking. A bit later, the Master's partner brought out some delicious ribs for us to munch on. So we whiled the evening away, talking to the staff and no one else.

I asked about the name of the place, after all, it had opened just three weeks earlier. It seems that the bar's investor loves music and really likes Gregorian chants.

"When he thinks of music he thinks of the music for God", the Master told us. I didn't ask which God.

I thought it was fascinating about the connection between God, music, medieval Gregorian monk music, and a gay bar. A gay, Japanese, karaoke & jazz, bar.

The we'd thought we'd check out some other bar. I wanted to go to Arty Farty, but it was not to be. We were surprised by the bar tally (2 beers and two soft drinks), but said nothing.

The bar Master accompanied us to the next bar: Logos. I asked, eventually, about the name choice. I remember the Logos bar Master said something about looking up what it meant in the dictionary, and how it made him think of Egypt. So there you have it.

Perhaps our previous bar Master came with us as much out of courtesy as anything else because, at this next place, we were the only Westerners present.

We had read that bars in Japan often don't let foreigners in. Discrimination issues aside, there is probably a good reason for this.

You see, Master-san's job is to make you feel welcome, feed you some tid-bits, and, if needed, pimp you (and the other customers) a little bit.

He is meant to inform others of your interest in them, and vice versa. If he does not speak English and you don't speak Japanese...you understand.

Once at Logos (a hop and a skip away from Gregorios and on the same building as Arty Farty -so close!) he introduced us to the bar Master there, and bought us a drink (we think).

We all spoke for a while while we marvelled at the minute dimensions of the place. No more than 15 people, it seemed. All drinking, all singing karaoke. And all smiling at us. I have to say, in my experience, gay Japan is nothing if not friendly to a fault. Not just polite, friendly.

Then Master-san split and left us in the bar to fend for ourselves. Much smaller than Gregorios, and louder, it
was to be the norm bar-wise, henceforth.

After making his excuses to tend to his other customers, he quickly came back for us to ensure we sat down at the bar when a couple of people left, and assigned us one of his English-speaking staff to entertain us and keep us company. It was his day off but nevertheless, he complied.

As luck would have it, it was one of the customer's birthday, and someone had brought birthday cake. We were each offered a piece of cake, even though we were complete strangers to the place and knew no one. Like I said, friendly to a fault.

After some karaoke singing (I have to say that most of the videos which accompanied the songs looked like they were filmed in 1989) we decided to check out another bar.

We informed the Bar Master who, upon learning of our plans, called ahead to see if they could accommodate. They couldn't (meaning, no one on duty who speaks English tonight) and he took us to another bar.


Adventures in postmodern culture...Tokyo style

So he took us to another bar. Bridge. It was where the local gay culture vultures meet. Especially cinematic culture vultures.

We walked in, and everyone looked at us thinking how out of place we looked. The bar Master welcomed us, looking a bit puzzled, and our previous host left us in good, if confused, hands.

I have to say that of all the bars we visited in Japan, this turned out to be my favorite. It was slightly more spacious that the others (only just) and it had a balcony where people smoked. Meaning, it had large glass windows which allowed you to see the building in front.

The decor was very Euro-filmical: movie posters everywhere, well-lit bar shelves with European liquors, intellectual-looking customers.

We sat next to the bar's Anglophilic enlightened one, and, thank God, we had someone to speak with. He laughed at absolutely everything we said. I'm sure his previous consumption of alcohol helped.

Eventually the bar Master asked about our provenance, and when we said Spain, the whole bar turned to us.

Why?

Because Japanese queens, like any self-respecting intellectual queen anywhere else, love Almodovar's films.

They were very quick to point this out and inquire about our knowledge of the director. Needless to say we awed them with out insider information.

They did not know about the short film which accompanies his latest movie, "Broken embraces": "La concejala antropófaga" (The Cannibalistic City Councilor).

They could not believe their eyes. Nor could they believe that my partner, actually, had a copy of it on his iPod.

Here it is for you viewing pleasure. In Spanish. No Pedro, no need to thank us. We too are fans of yours!

Surprised and grateful is not the word. They loved it! And us for showing them. Especially after we mentioned that the short and Almodovar's latest film are connected, and how if you view the short, you understand the movie just a little bit better. Insider information you see...

Once the iceberg had been broken, one of the other customers informed us about his love for Andalucía and Southern Spain. He loved Granada, it seems. And Flamenco.

We politely declined to comment, since we all know what a faux pas it is to criticize someone's diva (be it human, female, animal or mineral).

After our cultural escapades du nuit, we decided to leave, and make one last attempt to visit the next bar on our list: Matagi (Hunter).

Following our upside down map of gay Tokyo (turns out that many maps in Japan have North pointing wherever the hell they feel like making it point to, regardless of accuracy), we finally made it to the alley where it was meant to be.

Did we see it? Did we hell!

We asked a couple of guys who were there if they knew where Matagi was at. They looked at each other and pointed to the door we were standing next to. Yes, gay and blind! Oh how we laughed!!!

Seeing as how it was closed we decided to head for bed. It was nearly 3AM and the night had proven quite fruitful. Still loving Japan.

No heroes weekend

AOG, Madrid

This week in Madrid a couple of movies are making the rounds: The Happening and The Mist. Both are apocalyptic and, in their own way, a reflection of the fears society makes for itself these post 9-11 days.

I saw the first one of them on Friday night because there were no tickets left for Sex and the City, the movie. So I compromised and went for what appeared like a thriller.

And I saw the second one on Saturday night because the movie projector broke down and no one got to see Sex and the City, the movie. It was 23:30 at night and I was in a movie mood, so I went to another film theater nearby and, at 00:40, went to see The Mist.

I won't give any plot away, but I do think that both movies share a common theme: neither has a hero- or at least not in the Hollywood sense. Events overtake the characters and the protagonists and there is little they can do to change them. Much like it would happen in real life.

In The Happening, directed by M. Night Shyamalan, the events which change the character's lives are too abstract to fully understand, even at the end of the film.

You are left wondering what happened, just as you are left wondering who cast Mark Wahlberg as the lead.

Much has been said about his heterosexuality, but in this film, unexplainable apocalypse aside, I kept thinking he was having an affair with John Leguizamo. Or with some other guy. And if that had been the case, it would have been ok. But it is not the case.

Instead, we are meant to believe he is a happy heterosexual who just happens to dress like a 22 year old disco bunny eventhough he is well in his 30s. The character is very well written, but Wahlberg just naively plods along, there is no intellectual depth. It was like drama 101. He wants you to like him, and you do like him, you just can't take him seriously as an actor. I wonder if he acted like that on purpose. Everyone in the audience, certainly the people next to me on isle 5, were laughing at his performance.

The other film, The Mist, is proper Old School apocalypse. Though with a twist. The acting is better than The Happening's, even if the events rock back and forth from the sublime to the ridiculous and back again. There are times when you stop suspending your disbelief, and others when you buy all that is on offer. The ending, however, has to be seen to be believed. The movie itself is a bit like Lord of the Flies. Society is what it is until things go slightly awry, then we all turn into barbarians. This movie certainly shows you how quickly we turn, and it does so semi-believably. Until the ending, which, is quite human, but also quite odd. I won't go into the acting but Thomas Jane does the best he can given the script.

The film is based on a short novella written by Stephen King back in 1980. This version, 27 years later, is perhaps quite in tune with concurrent global disaster thinking: that there is little we can do.

That no one is coming to save us because such things don't really happen. True or untrue, both films take a no-clear-hero approach. Things happen, and people survive, or not, through sheer chance. Both films reflect current fears in Western society.

I wonder if this is a new trend in movies? The human-all-too-human approach.

No Golden Globes this year

AOG, Madrid

The Golden Globes have been canceled. Well, the ceremony at least. No parties, no make up, no show, no glitzy run-up to the Oscars.

The reason? The on-going writer's strike.

I have to admit that it is a pain, but, after all, I do support the right to strike by any group of workers. Used as I am to European strikes, however, where public workers ask for money to make a decent living, I find it hard to side with some writers who earn the kind of salaries a street sweeper in Europe will never see in his lifetime.

However, the right remains and it is not dependent on a certain amount of money, but rather on a job and its proper payment.

Will the same happen at the Oscar's?

I have chosen to post this image of Julia Roberts, who is nominated for Best Performance by an Actress in a Supporting Role in a Motion Picture for Charlie Wilson's War.

I find it beautiful as well as haunting.

Lions for lambs

AOG, MadridRobert Redford's new movie seems to draw a slight parallel with Alejandro González Iñárritu's Babel. Both films share a triangular storyline which is drawn to a centrifuge by a common thread.

It is certainly beautifully filmed, the SX are good enough, and the plot, or plots, are nihilistic which is a welcome change in American cinema. Well, not all plots, this is an American film after all, and, although we are not served a happy ending on a platter, we are instead given a slice of hope, which is very much in line with the movie's feel.

A political story, it seems to reflect current thinking in the US regarding America's War on Terror campaign. If the film is to be seen as a catalyst for America's pulse, then we can assume that the end of the NeoCons is near, and that enough people have begun to question the status quo vis a vis the country's complacency with the post 9-11 world and recent propaganda.

Tom Cruise plays a character who is close to his last bad-guy character in Collateral. He is well in his way to becoming the next Mel Gibson or Kevin Costner. Strong, single minded, and with projection and aspirations, he fits the job description rather well.

Meryl Streep is surprisingly good as a journalist who has a sudden turn of heart. I say surprising, because the character is a feeble yet intelligent woman who finds herself enmeshed in a moral dilemma. Although the character is not beyond Streep's acting capabilities, she does an amazing turn with it and comes up trumps. Once again she proves what an amazing acting range she has and we are grateful for it.

Robert Redford, who also directs the film, is very middle ground in this film. A combination of Robin Williams in Dead Poet's Society and Sean Connery in Finding Forrester, he comes across as slightly lost in the character. It lives in his head, but he does not fully bring it out.

We are never fully aware of his motives, only of the fact that he feels he has failed somewhere along the line, though neither he, nor us, get to find out why. Special mention must go to his eyebrows which for some odd reason are dyed a darker shade than the rest of his hair.

All in all, the movie will probably be nominated and win an Oscar or two, and it will be well deserved. You will not be bored and, surprise surprise, it may even make you think.

If nothing else, it will help many to think about the current political situation in Iraq, Afghanistan, and the US.

Babel

AOG, Madrid

Last Saturday night I went to see Alejandro González Iñarritu's last film Babel in Barcelona. For those of you uninitiated to the author, he is also director of Amores Perros and 21 Grams.

Babel is a masterpiece of silence, brevity, despair, arrogance and hopelessness. Don't expect a happy anything. There is only one beautiful image in the whole film- beautiful because it was filmed to be visually impacting. One which at the same time proves to be bittersweet. It involves the two brothers, and it is towards the end of the film. It will leave you breathless, if agonizingly so.

The multinarrative drama of this film, according to him, completes Iñarritu's "Death trilogy" along with the aforementioned films.

As I watched the painful images being shown, I kept thinking that the only thing worse than dying, is staying alive. At least in this film.

The movie portrays death as an antidote to life. Life triumphant is given little airtime in Babel. No religious dogma, just nature, life, society, in their purest form.

Iñarritu's "glue" throughout the film is probably a constant feeling of alienation from beginning to end. The images of lives going catastrophically awry, amiss even, are traumatic and disconcerting to watch; needless to say, it is a difficult movie to watch.

This may be because, at some level, we see ourselves in similar situations with similar outcomes. Because we understand that our lives can go the way of the character's. Because we all understand tragedy all too well.

Alejandro shows us the imbecilic power which figures of authority have over anyone as a whole. To get into trouble, you can be anybody, and any one of us is anybody. But he lets us into the little known secret that, to get really out of trouble, it is not enough to be innocent, that can no longer be just passers-by, that your life can only be calamity free if you are somebody.

And, yes, we are all somebody, but I mean to be someone at a powerful or influential level. Normal folk never do well. We must always pay a price for being normal.

He also shows the general tendency American's have to overreact to simple situations. I am not saying that the situations portrayed in the film are simple in any way, but at their core, drama aside, they call for a response different from that portrayed by the American characters. Not all Americans of course, but there is a recognisable "national" trait here.

As a piece of anthropological research, Iñarritu also succeeds, but not because of the obvious "ethnic" characters. Although the film takes place in Mexico, Morocco, Japan and the US, I think you need to see it before commenting on this observation further.

The film, which stars Brad Pitt, Kate Blanchett, Gael García Bernal, Koji Yakusho (seen too in Memoirs of a Geisha) and Adriana Barraza, has already won a few awards and it stands nominated for 7 Golden Globes.

It looks Oscar-bound to me. The themes touched upon are exhausting and painful. Nonetheless, it is a great film. One which teaches you something about yourself you did not know you did not know.