Foreign Movies

I failed to mention Marion Cotillard who played Fanny Chenal in A Good Year. Gorgeous and talented.




What brings her to mind again is a piece in the newspaper about the French language film La Môme (La Vie En Rose in the US - opening in June, but previewing now) It's a biography of Edith Piaf, with Marion Cotillon apparently wonderful in the title role. I like Edith Piaf. I shall watch this movie when it comes out.











I've been looking out for Spanish movies - from Spain rather than Latin America - in Virgin. Penelope Cruz is not just a pretty (sorry - I mean drop-dead gorgeous) face. She works in Spanish, English & French: I know this because Virgin has at least two French language films with her in - and no Spanish ones at all!

And while I'm here - I really enjoyed Sabah, a grown-up Syrian-Canadian variation on My B.F.Greek Wedding. Written and directed Ruba Nadda, it stars the Lebanese actress Arsinée Khanjian who, in addition to being an established talent in her own right, is married to director Atom Egoyan. I'm going to look out for all three of those names in future - but I've promised myself - and Habibi - not to buy any more DVDs or books for the remaining 10 weeks (TEN WEEKS!) of our sojourn here.

Up to this point, though, I thought that all Arab movies were slapstick comedies featuring rubber-faced moustachioed men leaping about in their dishdashas. Actually, that's not true, because there are lots of Arab movies on satellite, but they seem stuck in a timewarp to me - though I'm probably tuning in to Arab Classic Movies.

Still, it's good to see a mainstream English language movie based in Arab culture: after a dozen years here, the arab-western mix is part of my way of life, so I really appreciate some straightforward cinematic storytelling that reflects this. Sabah is not, of course, an Arab movie: it's a cross-cultural piece which inevitably brings to mind other movies about immigrant identity and culture - such as Bend It Like Beckham, MBFGW, and Bhaji on the Beach; but we need cross-cultural film-makers.

I haven't lived in the Middle East, in this extraordinarily cosmopolitan town, for a dozen years, just to put all my experience and discoveries in a box marked 'Foreign' when I go back to Europe. These are not postcard memories to be brought out for visitors, but part of who I am, as English as I am. And I want to see movies that address that.

Uh-oh. Blogging past my bedtime again.

A Good Movie

We just watched Ridley Scott's latest: A Good Year, which has had reviews of the 'nice, predictable, old-man's-going-soft' variety.







It's got Russell Crowe - usually a good sign.





It's got Albert Finney - usually to die for - and Freddie Highmore - also a good sign.




Also Tom Hollander, who I really liked as Mr Collins in the Not-the-BBC Pride & Prejudice.
And Archie Panjabi, who I've never seen before, but will look out for in future.
And Didier Bourdon, Isabelle Candelier and Jacques Herlin as the entertaining live-in force-to-be-reckoned-with. (I've read all the Spanish-based versions of this story!)

It's got French light, French stone, French je-ne-sais-quoi, an entertaining screenplay and some satisfying camera-work. Yeah, of course we were fairly sure how it would end - but it was fun watching it work itself out.

We liked it.

Another animation from YouTube

The Great Esc. For all the laptop addicts!

Kiwi

Kiwi!

sniff

Thanks, Brodie

Law and Justice on Sexual Abuse

This is a comment (slightly tidied up) which I posted in response to another blogger's comment on the howl of anguish and rage that I posted yesterday in the UAE Community Blog, and subsequently wrote about here:

It has been established for decades that people in positions of care or authority who sexually abuse children find strategies - psychological or physical - to prevent their victims from speaking about it.

Even if the judges were not aware of this, surely it is relevant that a grown man, resident in the girls' home, used a knife to get what he wanted?
Surely it should be recognised that the man who is capable of using a knife to force four adolescent girls in his care into incest and adultery, as they are defined here, would have no hesitation about intimidating them with reminders of the legal penalties for 'their' actions, should the authorities ever find out?
Surely, in a region which places such emphasis on female honour, there should be some understanding of how ashamed these girls would feel, and how reluctant to speak of their shame to anyone?
And surely, someone should have given serious thought to the climate of apprehension, shame and fear that this man must have created in that household, and the cumulative effect on those girls as they saw their turn coming, across a span of twelve years?

Doesn't the combination of an abusive stepfather, a helpless or complicit mother, and a wall of silence surrounding the birth of eleven children suggest how helpless and hopeless these girls must have felt?
Shouldn't all this raise serious doubts about how much choice, control, and therefore culpability can be ascribed to them?

With hindsight, would the youngest sister still report her stepfather to the police?
Do the four older girls think that their new 'freedom' is worth the cost?

The sentence of death by stoning will no doubt deter some potential offenders from sexually abusing children in their care. Unfortunately, there will always be those who think that they can get away with it; and now they have a new weapon to encourage silent submission: eighty lashes if you tell.

Therefore, I will hope for a review of the law through which this case was prosecuted, and the drafting of guidelines for judges who have to rule in such cases, these guidelines to be informed by proper research into the effect of longterm intimidation, and physical and/or sexual abuse on adults and minors.

Thoughts, anyone?

Death and Lashes

Yesterday I read a Gulf News article about the tragic outcome of a fire in Sharjah. It states that the mother panicked, and dropped the children from their 8th floor apartment in order to save them. One died, and one is in hospital.

This Emirates Today front page article of the day before explains that the reason she couldn't get out was that her husband, as was his custom, had locked her and the children in when he went to work. Apparently this is a common practice. He'd changed the lock too, without telling, or leaving a duplicate with, the watchman.

That poor woman has enough guilt to live with, Gulf News. She didn't panic - she threw her sons down to the crowd below, saving one. Maybe if the police had been there in under half an hour, or the fire brigade in under forty five minutes, things might have been different. (Shades of the recent Al Attar fire which started at about 4.15 a.m. but didn't attract a fire crew til 6 or 7 - What is going on in this country of multiplying high-rises?) Maybe if her husband had not locked her in.

Today there was this.

I don't hold with stoning, for reasons I'm too sad to go into after these stories. But if I'd met the judges who sentenced those girls, in the half hour after I'd read the second article - assuming I could stop crying long enough to see straight - I think I'd have cast a few stony opinions.

Both of these men were cast in the role of protector, the ultimate authority in the lives of the 'their' women and children. Yet when they abused their authority, one deliberately, one through fuzzy thinking, both the judges and the Gulf News writer - one after long deliberation, and the other with a, perhaps thoughtless, choice of words - assigned blame to the protegees.

Female children should have the protection of law.
Male and female adults should have equal status in law and practice.
Male and female adults should be prepared to give, take, and accept equal responsibility in personal relationships, especially when it comes to raising families.

Then we can start dishing out equal blame for crime and stupidity.

Damn!

As a formula for the day-to-day business of living with each other and raising a family, mutual respect, consultation, consent, and compromise may be a pain in the ass at times; but it does spread the load, and provide a check for the more foolish decisions that one tired or over-conscientious person might come up with alone. Like locking up his wife for her own protection.

As for the law.

And those who interpret it.

Well.

I'm looking for an upbeat one-liner, but I've broken my rose-tinted specs. Sorry.

3 Rs and a Screwdriver

I've been a bit busy lately, with

Reading: an interesting mix of fact and fiction as research for

Riting: The Nobble. It exists as research notes, a family thicket, a timeline, and a few - um - scenes. This may take some time.....

and Rithmetic:

One million aches: 1 megahurtz

Basic unit of laryngitis: 1 hoarsepower

Time between slipping on a peel and smacking the pavement:
1 bananosecond

1 million microphones: 1 megaphone

2000 mockingbirds: two kilomockingbirds

1 millionth of a fish: 1 microfish

1 trillion pins: 1 terrapin

1 million billion picolos: 1 gigolo

10 cards: 1 decacards

10 rations: 1 decoration

10 millipedes: 1 centipede

2 monograms: 1 diagram

8 nickels: 2 paradigms

2 wharves: 1 paradox

(OK, so the last bit's just padding, but it's fun. Some of these appear on a Teacher's Day-to-View calendar, but you'll find more here.)

Actually, there's not been much writing either, except of the Application-Form-plus-CV-and-Supporting-Letter variety. I used to think that a CV was a simple record of what one has been doing. Pshaw! What a foolish notion!

As any CV-writing website - and there are several out there - will demonstrate, a CV is a delicately balanced tool with as many potential variations as a screwdriver, and the jobseeker must choose the appropriate one in order to gain access to the potential (pause for swift intake of breath and adjustment of tone to reverential) employer.

Hmm... Screwdriver: connotations of DIY, shaken-not-stirred, breaking-&-entering, taking-&-driving-away. Sometimes I am troubled by my subsconscious........

OK I don't want to jerry his Jag, roger his Rover, or do anything at all to his Beemer. I just want an interview.

So I'll stop worrying about (a) Slotted, (b) Phillips, (c) Pozidriv, (d) Torx, (e) Hex key, (f) Robertson, (g) Tri-Wing, (h) Torq-Set, (i) Spanner

Thank you Wikipedia ..........and.... I'd better go hone a new metaphor....... I mean key.

So, first read over your CV file, which you have of course diligently reviewed every six months since you completed your education, sometime in the last millennium. (You haven't? Well, pshaw to you too!).

Now, what exactly do you want to do with it? (Sorry. What is your objective?) Do you want to apply for a job in the same field?......... in a different field?............ apply for a particular job vacancy?

Does your CV fit the bill? Yes?

Brrrrrrringggggg! Go straight to style*.

(Er, what?

Later*.

OK.)

If not, what's the problem? Underqualified? Overqualified? Too young? Too old? Unemployed? Fired? Gaps? Inexperienced? Criminal record? No degree?

Don't fret. Be positive. It's not just what you've done, it's what it says about your character, strengths, and potential value to the employer lucky enough to land you. It's not just what you say, it's also how you say it. It's not just what you put down, it's how you lay it out.

Et cetera!

And now, balanced precariously as you are between optimism about your innate fabulousness, and anxiety about the intricacies of the above, perhaps you would like to consider whether the appropriate style* for your CV is: Chronical, Targeted, Combination, CV, Inventory or Functional?

_____________________________________________________________

OK. I've stopped.

Speaking as someone for whom the term career might have been invented (Consider it as a verb rather than a noun.....) I present a bit of a conundrum for a prospective employer with formal procedures and conventional expectations. I have been involved for an extreeeeeeeemely long time in community work, community arts and arts education; sometimes it's been paid work, sometimes not; sometimes freelance, sometimes on contract; but always productive and satisfying. Add to that the fact that, for over a decade, virtually every project or contract has come via referral, and the CV has been something of a formality; and it becomes apparent why, this close to my 50th birthday, I find myself consulting websites on how to fill in a CV that conveys all of the above as energetic, multi-faceted, etc. rather than...... something less marketable....

It's actually been a very interesting exercise. In common, I think, with most people, I find networking and self-promotion quite unsettling, but I do understand that if you don't lay out your stall properly, potential customers will pass you by. When it comes to creating what I sincerely hope will be an effective CV, it's at least as stimulating as a sudoku puzzle - and I like sudoku! What gets me is not the listing and highlighting, the boxing and bordering, and the honest business of selling the product (me!). It's the gimmickry of goal statements and what I shall call dynamic jargon.

Habibi regularly receives emailed CVs (or biodata - not a term I'd heard of til I came here)

......

OK: tangent time!

(It did not bother me that a company that I used to work for counted its employees as 'work units'. It was a big, well-run, 24/7 company, and no-one ever actually called me Work-Unit 2222 to my face. However, quite apart from the fact that the term 'biodata' does not strike the ear with either the self-confidence of 'CV' or the gravitas of 'curriculum vitae', it says 'Work Unit' to me.

It says that the person who puts this term at the top of her written representation of herself has been conditioned to see herself as a mere cog, a drone. That kind of conditioning would also explain the whipped puppy eagerness of the 'goal statements' which pant across the page, scattering 'Pat me! Pat me!' promises in all directions.

I'm out of practice. This is coming out sour, and, I think, disingenuous. If you come from a relentlessly competitive background, an employment culture of survival of the fittest, and have seen both the rewards of success and the price of failure, then of course you will have absorbed the attitudes, and the language, which such a culture generates. But it can be counterproductive if recruiters from other cultures read it through their own cultural filters. My English reluctance to sell-sell-sell would probably play as arrogance or complacency to a recruiter from an aggressively go-getter culture. Let the Games begin!

Exit Tangent now. Do not pass Gravitas. Collect Jargon.)

...As I was saying, Habibi regularly receives emailed CVs (or biodata!) couched in extraordinary language, much of it mishspooled. I've already dissed goal statements (In the tangent. If you skipped it - sorry!), but let me get to what I'm calling dynamic jargon.

I have two sections entitled 'Responsibilities' and 'Achievements'. Fine. So I'm responsible for this, that and the other, and have achieved the other, that and this. Yes? No!

But it's true!

Yes, but it doesn't convey your energy, your focus, your achievements!

......m-my ..responsibilities....?

Such as?

Erm, administration, stocktaking, bareback-riding, disembowelment..

No, no, no! You must be more dynamic!

?

#$(%^&!!!! (sigh) Have you considered - enabling? facilitating? maximisingoptimising?

I -

inititatinginstigatingimplementingintegrating?!

Actually I -

Incubatingresonatingtabulating?!

?!

Inflitratingexculpatingcoruscatingmasticatingsyncopatingadumbrating! Calibrating! Amputating! Mutilating! Flagellating!

VACATING!

- I beg your..... Where did she go?

So, dynamic jargon. I know it's just the current convention, and presumably it indicates some level of professionalism to HR personnel awash in a CV sea, but I suspect that it started off as someone's strategy to make sure she stood out from the crowd. Now we all have to do it!

By the way, I shamelessly cannibalised fairly typical advice from a variety of sites. The one I recommend, and include some terms from, is CVTips.com. They are not to blame for the way I used said terms: I really did need guidance on how to put a CV together, and theirs is the most straightforward and thorough of the bunch. There are some typos here and there, but the advice is realistic, and free, and they have templates in different styles and for different purposes. Don't hold any of the above against them!

circulatingpropagatingcelebratingvalidating...hallucinating..medicating

Shameless Plug Part Ducks

(For SPP1 see Habibi's blog!)

I haven't blogged lately because 1: I'm job-hunting, 2: The Novel is beginning to show signs of possibly maybe almost starting to come together, 3: kinda busy with work, and 4: Romeo and Juliet is on this weekend, so evenings are far too busy and interesting to leave any time for actually writing about them. (Isn't it a pain when real life interferes with the really important stuff?)

So, here's some gen on the DDG production of R&J, from an Emirates Today interview with Jordan Baker (Romeo) & Saskia O'Neill (Juliet) -

Valentine’s Day is only just over. But romance is still in the air. And what better way for all you die-hard lovers to keep that fire alive than treating your partner to one of Shakespeare’s most famous love stories.
Following the successful productions of Run For Your Wife and Treasure Island, The Dubai Drama Group is back in what is set to be its most exciting production yet: Romeo & Juliet.
Ever since auditions for the first production of 2007 ended in November last year, the cast, as well as the rest of the crew, have been busy preparing for the show, which will take place tomorrow and Saturday.
And after being treated to a sneak preview of the show, it was obvious the group has definitely made an effort to create an entertaining play – not an easy feat, considering they all have to juggle full-time jobs or school.
Romeo & Juliet is a tragedy concerning the fate of two young “star-crossed lovers” and it should be familiar, let’s face it, everybody has seen at least five minutes of the Leonardo DiCaprio and Claire Danes blockbuster.
In this production, the starcrossed lovers are played by Saskia O’Neil and Jordan Baker, and despite quite a significant age difference between the two – Saskia is 16, while Jordan is 26 – their professionalism shines through during rehearsals.
So what made them decide to go for the parts?
“Well, I saw the advert for auditions at my school, and I decided it would be fun to join,” says Sasskia.
“However, I guess I was more interested doing backstage work as I didn’t think I’d be ready to take on a full-on role.
“My teacher convinced me to go for it – I auditioned and I got the part. She is also in our group – she plays the nurse in Romeo & Juliet.”

Meanwhile, Jordan points out that being new to Dubai, acting was a fun way for him to meet new people.
“Three years ago, I moved to Dubai from the United States, and the last time I travelled around, I found that one of the best ways of meeting new and different people would be through community theatre,” says Jordan, who works as a mechanical engineer in the emirate.
“I love theatre, and it was fantastic to be given the part of Romeo – rehearsals have been fun.” What is quite special about the Dubai Drama Group’s production is that it is not your typical “drag along for six hours” Romeo & Juliet.
“We don’t want to bore the audience – we want to entertain,” Jordan laughs.
“Basically, it is a condensed version of the play, and it’s not your typical version.
“You’ve got your traditional play with the Shakespearean English, and then there is the version that starred Leonardo DiCaprio and Claire Danes – we’re performing a version that uses both traditional and modern elements, making it fun for everyone.” It is definitely an entertaining production, and indeed suitable for everyone. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry and then you’ll laugh a bit more. And Jordan agrees.
“It’s a nice cultural change, and we have an international cast – I think we’re 12 nationalities in all,” he explains.
“Plus, there’s good music and a great cast.You won’t be disappointed.”

The Gulf News did an entertaining feature after one of our Friday rehearsals in Safa Park.

There are four shows: Friday and Saturday, 3pm and 7pm. You can buy tickets (50Dhs) at the DUCTAC box office or through Time Out.

Now I must get to bed. Big day tomorrow, forsooth.

An Experiment in Fluid Dynamics, or, How Not to Open a 4L Winebox

1. Place 4L box of wine, preferably, red, on top shelf of open kitchen shelving.

Note: While the shelf unit may be free-standing and empty, a richer experience may be anticipated if the unit is in a corner close to walls and a door, perhaps next to a worktop surmounted by a microwave oven or similar; and the lower shelves of the unit filled to capacity with crockery (bowls are particularly effective) , storage jars, and smaller kitchen appliances.

2. Raise arms above head, and remove cardboard seal from front fascia of winebox, creating an opening.

3. Insert fingers into opening and locate circular plastic valve unit set into foil winebag.

4. Grasping valve securely, pull through opening in front fascia.

5. When valve becomes jammed behind cardboard, pull firmly.

6. When button on front valve gets stuck on corner of cardboard, thus releasing a narrow but powerful stream of red wine over your upturned face, gasp in manner reminiscent of asphyxiating fish, and lower head to enable wine to pour over back of shirt. Do not release grip on valve.

Note: Shirt, though absorbent, will not measurably protect floor, but may be neatly wrung out later, or used in creative tie-dye experiment. (This is particularly effective, if you have had the forethought to choose a shirt of aesthetically pleasing hue, known to tone or contrast well with red wine stains.)

7. With head thus lowered and both arms still raised, use one hand to balance winebox and other to further manoeuvre valve, in order to fully pull it through the opening in the fascia, thus releasing button and stopping flow.

8. When flow unaccountably increases, vocalise loudly, taking care to keep head lowered as in #6. Vocalisation may take whatever form deemed appropriate to the situation: grunts and whoops may serve; shrieks are perhaps more appropriate for freshly chilled white wine, but research in this field is limited, and findings remain inconclusive; profanity may seem appealing, but in this writer’s view has no place in the realm of Science; clear enunciation of the name of a companion within auditory range is perhaps most practical, particularly as #10-12 require the services of an assistant.

Note: Gasping, or the involuntary and abrupt intake of air, is not recommended, due to the potential for an involuntary intake of wine into the trachea, with results which must necessarily be a distraction in the subsequent critical stages of the experiment. The spectacle, familiar in various wine-producing cultures, of the waiter imbibing a stream of the local elixir from a bottle or carafe raised high at arm’s length, requires rather more rehearsal and control than can be claimed in this early experiment.

9. At this point, take note of the fact that the valve is now in one hand, the winebox in the other, and the entire contents of the internal winebag, responding to gravity and atmospheric pressure, are now cascading over the shelf unit and your now dripping form, and bouncing exuberantly in all directions. This indicates the unlooked for separation of valve from bag, and the need for the services of the above-mentioned research assistant. Continuing to employ selected vocalisation technique, until you have elicited a proactive response from said assistant, (See #8) take a firm grasp on the winebox with both hands, and in an instinctive bacchanalian sequence of movement, transfer it first toward, and then away from, you, to end with the box resting on its back on one outstretched hand.

10.At the completion of this manoeuvre, atmospheric pressure will continue to drive the remaining liquid from the winebag, but the earth’s gravitational pull will initially cause it to be contained inside the winebox. However, as the perhaps misleadingly titled ‘winebox’ is not, in fact, designed to contain liquid unassisted, the continuing play of the previously cited forces will fairly rapidly generate a minor vinous fantasia from the now compromised seams and edges of said winebox. If you have continued vocalising through #8-9, your research assistant should now be on hand to observe and assess the situation, in preparation for practical engagement.

Note: Since this is your first foray into applied fluid dynamics (outside the environs of the shower or swimming pool), it is important to remind yourself that there is no right or wrong way to respond. Be spontaneous! Exercise the mysterious creative power of human ingenuity, a power which has engendered some of the most felicitous scientific discoveries, and wonders of civil engineering, even as it continues to baffle scientists!

In consideration of likely feelings of physical fatigue, or the onset of temporary hysteria engendered by the excitement of scientific enquiry compounded by the exercise of an unfamiliar breathing technique, you should now delegate management of the winebox, indeed, of the remaining stages of the experiment, to your research assistant.

11. Having assumed this responsibility, your assistant may elect to adopt a supine position directly beneath the flow, in a manner reminiscent of the waiters cited in #8. As the stream widens and diverges, you may perhaps choose to do the same.

Note: Disregard anxieties that your action might compromise your findings, as there are a number of features of your laboratory space, and, indeed, of this experiment, which may already have invalidated it for the purposes of publication in scientific journals. You can address these when evaluating this important initial work, and preparing your grant application.

Alternatively, your research assistant might choose to transfer the winebox to a large, liquid-proof vessel, and/or attempt to reinsert the errant valve. While this course has much to recommend it, it would be advisable to ensure that the winebox remains on its back.

12. Once you are both satisfied that all is complete, you have a number of options:

• Ignoring the drips and streams of claret on every surface, pour yourself a glass of wine and retire to another room to write up your notes.
  
• Ignoring the drips and streams of claret on every surface, pour yourself a glass of wine and retire to another room to watch the DVD you set up twenty minutes ago .
  
• Get out the cleaning materials: it’s going to be a long night.

Egrets in Dubai?

On several mornings now, at about seven o'clock, I've seen between two and ten white birds at the Emirates Mall interchange, on the grassed part inside the loop, where the road from Jebel Ali turns up and over the Sheikh Zayed Road, heading fro the Police Academy.

I thought they might be egrets, but here's a picture of a Little Egret from Kenya, and I think they were smaller. Plus, this is the distribution: Widely distributed including Southern Europe, much of Asia, North and East Africa, Australia and New Zealand. (i.e. everywhere except the Middle East!)

Has anyone else seen them, and can identify them? They're delicate, snowy white, and quite beautiful.

Femmes (et hommes) d'un certain âge..... plus plus!

For a school project I have been looking for representations of life in old age in mainstream films. We all know that in a predominantly visual medium dominated by Hollywood box-office values, middle-aged female characters generally function as background or minor counterpoint to male protagonists. And if you're an actor over sixty it seems to me that you have two character options, picturesque or grotesque - either in a rocker or off it - arf!.......sorry........
Oh, and there are always deathbed scenes.

There are honourable exceptions in the middle years: contemporaries of Kathy Bates, Meryl Streep, Susan Sarandon and Diane Keaton have enjoyed these women's screenwork for decades, and will always want more. English stage actresses Helen Mirren and Judi Dench have broken through good and proper, and Maggie Smith's up there having a great deal of fun, I think. Jessica Tandy - very talented - became everyone's favourite little old lady in Batteries Not Included, Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe, and Driving Miss Daisy. I can't remember, but I would imagine she was in Cocoon, too, with husband Hume Cronin. Hopefully, the Talk-To-The-Hand generation will get over Lindsay Lohan and the vacuous Hollywood Teen Diet and find their own A-List to grow up with.

Still, but, however, (second cup of coffee, here!) I wish that those of us who can't get to her stagework could see more of Judi Dench's phenomenal range. Unfortunately, casting directors seem to have filed her under T (Terrifying) subset steel magnolia/rose/gardenia, bitch-queen, bitch-goddess. Yes I know she does them so well, but, Newsflash: Judi Dench can do sexy, sparkling, vulnerable and very funny as well as formidable and ferocious; more people should get to see that! It was such a treat to see her and Maggie Smith in Tea With Mussolini, and Ladies in Lavender.

I was struck by a newspaper feature describing this as the Silver Foxes' Oscar season because Helen Mirren, Judi Dench and Meryl Streep are all up for honours. An industry commentator cautioned against seeing this as reflecting a more inclusive attitude within Hollywood, because affluent teens and twenty-somethings remain the target market. More telling is the increasing DVD market: apparently, we creakies would rather stay in than go out, and, being blessed with the patience, wisdom and home theatre systems that come with advancing years, are content to wait for movies to come out on DVD. In fact, it appears that distributors are now trying to take two bites of the apple at once. There have been rows in Germany and the UK recently, with cinema chains withdrawing films because of near simultaneous DVD releases which disregard an unofficial convention of a four-month gap between cinema and DVD release. Good grief, could we grown-ups count for something in big 'ol forever young Califo'nia?

Anyway, I have been trying to find a copy of On Golden Pond (a film I have avoided since its release) for its portrayal of relationships across generations, or Divine Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood, or Grumpy Old Men, for their inversion of ideas of what it means to be old. (I don't think they're quite ready for Diane Keaton and Jack Nicholson in Something's Gotta Give, or Barbra Streisand's 'relationship counselling' sessions in Meet the Fockers. Plus, getting fired won't look so good on my CV.) No joy.

For those of you who have never had the pleasure of working with 11-14 year-olds, it makes no difference that their actual grandparents are educated professionals with driving licences and laptops, or practise yoga, or come with them on family skiing holidays; nor that they have full use of all limbs, teeth and faculties, and a sense of humour to boot. Oh no. Say 'old man' or 'old woman' to a twelve year-old, and s/he immediately doubles over, clutches an imaginary walking stick, and commences shuffling and hacking round the room, glaring through narrowed eyes at everyone else; the epitome of the Old Man in the fairy story:

(This is actually the commedia dell'arte character Pantalone, the 16th Century stereotype of the grumpy old man!)
















...or the Old Crone of the fairy story.


(This painting is by Atanur Dogan)
















Perhaps I should add that this is an age group for whom Keanu Reeves is old, and who respond to the pop music music of two years ago with rolling eyes and gasps of disbelief - of course, they may have a point about that........ ;)

Anyway, I resorted to the 2003 Disney movie Secondhand Lions, which stars Robert Duvall, Haley Joel Osment and Michael Caine, and which I'd heard good things about but never actually seen.

(spoiler alert!) It turned out to be

..........an engaging redemption movie
in which a rootless boy finds
a family and a sense of himself,
and the old man finds a new
reason to live............

Ok, you can look now!




















Living in the middle east, I had mixed feelings about the content of the story-telling sequences, but given their tongue in cheek Boys' Own Hero style, I decided to run with it. All things considered, this an upbeat and entertaining family film with warmth and humour, and the storyline is bolted together pretty well!
If the core is somewhat hackneyed, Robert Duvall invested it with something more in his role as Uncle Hub. (He made his screen debut as Boo Radley in the 1963 movie To Kill a Mockingbird, which I watched just two nights later. I must find what else he's done.)
I noted, but didn't watch, a feature on HJO (playing Walter) entitled An Actor Comes of Age. I hope that this is the case, and that now that he's older, he will be allowed to break the typecasting and extend his range.
Michael Caine had a pretty good grip on the accent, and a very nice handle on the character of Uncle Garth. I really enjoy his work, from the classic Get Carter to Little Voice to Miss Congeniality, and now this. Lovely. (BTW, if you saw Stallone's Get Carter, forget it. A travesty. No comparison. Michael Caine gives the performance of his career inthe 1971 Get Carter. Go get Get Carter!)

I did find a sequence I could use, so I'm happy.

And finally, girls, look to the future with optimism, and never underestimate the appeal of the older man......

To Kill a Mockingbird

I love the novel.














Last night I watched the film.













Classics, both.

Dal'ouna in Dubai & Abu Dhabi

This is Ramzi Aburedwan, who grew up in Al Amari refugee camp in Ramallah, and won a music scholarship to study the viola in France, where he and fellow students created Dal'ouna in 2002. In concert, as in this photo, he plays the bouzouki.

Last night, Dal'ouna played a wonderful two hour set at Dubai Community Theatre & Arts Centre (It's a mouthful, but the alternative is DUCTAC. Oh, puhlease...) up at the top of Emirates Mall*.

None of these pictures are from that concert, but whether they're playing in Dubai, Jerusalem, Angers or Abu Dhabi, you get an ensemble of fine musicians and singers, and an evening of delightful Palestinian music, from soulful ballads, to traditional folk songs, to contemporary jazz fusion.



























You can find the Dal'ouna French language website here.
And here's a translation from the programme:

Dal'ouna's music is ......... a confluence between Palestine and France and a fusion between purely traditional singing from the Middle East and jazzy melting compositions played with classical western instruments (viola, clarinet, flute, guitar, piano) and... traditional Arabic instruments (bouzouki, oud, derbouka, bendir....). The work is not frozen in either traditionalism or classicism: it is on the contrary open to outside influences.

[Since 2000, the group has played in Palestine, or for Palestine in France, Belgium and England.] Most of the concerts take place in Palestine, where, twice a year through Al Kamandjâti (The Violinist) Association, Dal'ouna and other musicians crisscross Palestinian refugee camps, villages and cities. They bring music to children, through music-training workshops and concerts.

If you live in Abu Dhabi, grab the chance to listen to Dal'ouna. This visit has been organised by the Friends of Bethlehem University.

Last night's concert was so good! Dal'ouna's line-up varies from tour to tour, but on this one there's Ramzi Aburedwan himself, Tareq Rantissi on derbouka (an hourglass-waisted drum that you tuck under your arm and rest on your thigh) and other percussion instruments, Ziad Benyoussef on the oud (Arab lute - and if you've never heard jazz lute, here's your chance!), Mohammed Najem on clarinet (and a flute that looks like little more than a length of cane) Mohammed Al Quttati on accordion, and singers Ouday Khatib and Noura Madi.

Highlights - too numerous to list - but musicianship - oh yeah.
The percussionist was amazing. Very serious too. He never left the stage, played a variety of instruments, and played the most extraordinary array of rhythms and sounds throughout the concert.
The clarinettist - well, I've never heard Arab-style clarinet, before, but this instrument was made for those slow low melancholy swoops, and long high notes. If you've heard Fairouz (or if not, Cleo Laine), and you've heard clarinet (Mozart, Weber, Acker Bilk playing Stranger on the Shore), play them in your head, and you'll hear what I mean.
I'm not a fan of the accordion, but in concert with the strings, or playing musical tag with the drums and clarinet, this works: there's a long piece about the sea, in which the accordion trots out the central phrase; reduces it to a dropping pattern of only two notes, to accent a long improvisation, at least an octave below, on the oud; and then picks up again. Some of the pieces are plain old jamming sessions!
Of the two singers, Nour had a strong clear voice which really had the range for these apparently straightforward songs where the chorus routinely highjumps an octave from the verse, and she sang with great simplicity, allowing the songs to shine. She began her first song unaccompanied, and I should have liked to hear more.
Listening to her, I was humming choruses (with the people around me) discovering that these Arab folksongs have melody patterns remarkably similar to their European cousins (as I now recognise them), but with distinctive Arab characteristics in the trills, slides and those jumps. Lastly, Ouday, who was perhaps fourteen or fifteen, with his strong boy's voice as yet unbroken, came on to sing a long, long song of such power and delicacy that it seemed beyond the scope of anyone his age, but with such clarity and integrity that we were all mesmerised.
The singers came and went throughout the set, as did the accordionist and the clarinettist, and the evening rolled on in a finely blended programme of solos, duets, and ensemble pieces.

All in all, though I did not understand the words of the songs, or indeed of Ramzi Aburedwan's introductions to the songs, I had a very good evening out! Just one thing, when I mentioned the two hour set, that's what it was: they played without a break. Take your water bottle in with you if you go tomorrow!

Dal'ouna is on at Abu Dhabi Cultural Foundation on WEDNESDAY FEBRUARY 7th!

I'd post a link, but the main Time Out ticket page is down, but so you'd better contact the venue direct:

The Abu Dhabi Cultural Foundation, Old Airport Rd (02 6215300 cultural@emirates.org.ae)

Situated beside Qasr al-Hosn, the foundation is housed in a delightful modern building of Islamic design with arching white colonnades, cool courtyards and restful gardens. The Cultural Foundation has an important library, theatre, cinema, lecture rooms, meeting rooms, an exhibition centre and coffee shop. The centre hosts numerous cultural events, including concerts with international and local artists, classic film festivals, art exhibitions and workshops throughout the year. Open 8 a.m. to 2 p.m. and 5 p.m. to 8 p.m.

So now you know!

Such talent. Such music. Such an important cause. Just go!

*DUCTAC: Great arts centre, very poorly signposted. The entrance is from the top T-Z carpark or escalator, directly opposite the top entrance to Magic Planet, almost completely hidden by an escalator and a fire exit sign................. Here's the Dubai Community Theatre and Arts Centre webpage. I'm good to you!

High Flight

Today I came across this poem in a thread elsewhere.

High Flight

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth

And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;

Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth

of sun-split clouds, —and done a hundred things

You have not dreamed of—wheeled and soared and swung

High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,

I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung

My eager craft through footless halls of air....

Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue

I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace

Where never lark nor even eagle flew—

And, while with silent lifting mind I’ve trod

The high untrespassed sanctity of space,

Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

I have read it several times over the years, and flown on the back of its absolute joy, that sense of being alive that we experience sometimes, but which I for one can't describe without suffocating it in words. (If you've been here before, you know this!) John Magee caught it perfectly.

However, reading down the thread, to discover that this pilot was only nineteen when he died (in a training accident), shocked me; cutting through all the insulation I have assembled to deal with the realities of the nightly news. I sat here with tears streaming.

Perhaps we're never so consciously alive, with our future at our feet, as when we're eighteen or nineteen. Not since we cut our first tooth, said our first word, took our first step, have we so encapsulated the hopes, dreams and pride of those who love us.

Gone in a minute.

John Magee's poem took me to John Magee's parents, holding their boy's poem written on the back of an envelope, knowing there would never be another one; and to all the other parents I've seen crying on the nightly news, whether howling in agony outside a mortuary, quietly accepting their country's flag, or staring blankly into the camera in what's left of a wherever they used to live.

It's a shame the human race has such a powerful urge to kill for what it wants. And such a readiness to die for its beliefs. I wish I had a magical solution to offer as a coda to this sad entry, but as far as I can see, it's often the magical solutions (Let's do it My Way!) that lead to the worst bloodshed.

Instead, here's John Magee's sonnet on the burial of Rupert Brooke, in 1915.

We laid him in a cool and shadowed grove
One evening in the dreamy scent of thyme
Where leaves were green, and whispered high above —
A grave as humble as it was sublime;
There, dreaming in the fading deeps of light —
The hands that thrilled to touch a woman's hair;
Brown eyes, that loved the Day, and looked on Night,
A soul that found at last its answered Prayer...
There daylight, as a dust, slips through the trees.
And drifting, gilds the fern around his grave —
Where even now, perhaps, the evening breeze
Steals shyly past the tomb of him who gave
New sight to blinded eyes; who sometimes wept —
A short time dearly loved; and after, — slept.

Sunny Spain

Don't talk to Cave Renovator about Global Warming.

Brrrrr!

Sigh Baby Bunting

Twelve year old Dakota Fanning's new film Hounddog is causing controversy, not because it contains a rape scene, but because it is Lewellen, Dakota's character, who is raped. The little girl out of Charlotte's Web!

Either she is too young to be able to handle such material, or she isn't.

Either she should never have signed up for this project, and her family and agent have failed to protect this child from commercial exploitation, emotional trauma and moral corruption, and are guilty of setting an arbitrary closing date to her childhood; or she is perfectly able to deal with this material, and her family and agent have thoughtfully and courageously given her the opportunity and support to do work of this nature and standard.

Just as Venus and Serena Williams' father recognised and coached their talent.
And Wolfie Mozart's supported his.

If you have an extraordinary talent amounting to a vocation, an unquenchable desire to play tennis or the violin, to act, swim, compose, paint or write for hours and hours, day after day, for years, because that is when you are most alive, then perhaps you would find what the rest of us think of as a normal childhood confining, frustrating and unnatural?

Is Dakota simply exceptionally gifted, a very young and dedicated actress, with a wisdom beyond her years? Or is she an exceptionally gifted young actress who has been fast-tracked out of childhood by the projects she has been allowed to take on? And if the latter, is this good, bad, or just another variation on real life, so if she's fine, then the rest of us should get off her case?..!

One of her previous directors described Dakota Fanning as 'seven going on forty'. Hounddog director Deborah Kampmeier, whose personal history forms the basis of this film, calls her an 'old soul'. I am almost persuaded that she is indeed just fine with this project. What kind of reaction she may face from her peers remains to be seen. And the press are all over her, with judgements and headlines about her family and her agent.

Other girls have been here before. Eleven-year-old Brooke Shields played a child living in a brothel in Louis Malle's Pretty Baby. At fourteen, Jodie Foster was nominated for an Oscar for her role as a pre-pubescent prostitute in Taxi Driver. Both coped with their roles and the fall-out therefrom, and have grown into well-balanced, creative professionals. Dakota's parents seem very caring and careful of both of their daughters - though I imagine many people will revise that opinion now. Fingers crossed for this extraordinary young actress who comes across in interviews as a wise child, a real professional, and a lovely kid.

This article in Slate raises some questions beyond the immediate 'Should she/they or shouldn't she/they?

How about this: But the truth, as anyone who has recently been to the cinema knows, is that Dakota Fanning has been making dark and creepy movies for years. Over her seven-year career, she has become a small, blond embodiment of America's fond hope that scarred children can be restored to childish innocence. It was only a matter of time before the trauma she faced would be rape.

.,...... In the intensely violent Man on Fire (2004), she is a neglected, love-starved child who is kidnapped for ransom money, and watches her beloved bodyguard (and only true friend) get brutally shot in front of her as she cries his name. She is later rescued, but he dies for her. In Hide and Seek (2005) she plays a troubled 9-year-old whose mother has recently died; terrible things happen, but in the end, she appears to find some relief from her emotional suffering. ... In The War of the Worlds (2005), she watches as aliens destroy her world, transforming it into a landscape literally flowing with blood, and her father kills a man in order to save her life, while she sits nearby. She is brutalized and subdued, but by the film's end—when she reaches the cozy brownstone where her mother is—she appears ready to be absorbed again by the consoling rhythms of domesticity; one feels that even her toys are intact.

Of course, she's also done Dreamer and Charlotte's Web.

However, watching Man on Fire, I could not separate my response to the trauma faced by the character Pita, from my awareness of the 10 year-old handling those scenes, that dialogue. Whenever I see a film, or an episode in a drama series, where child actors are involved in scenes of great violence, cruelty or distress, it troubles me. Occasionally there will be a baby crying in its cot, scarlet and tear-streaked: how do they film this? Who explains motivation to a six-month-old? Is colic a useful quality in the neo-natal actor?

Do parents simply stand back until the shot has been completed satisfactorily, before giving baby a cuddle and singing him a lullaby about his college fund?

What about the toddler standing crying its heart out? Or standing there on the verge of tears. An eighteen-month-old faking heartbreak to order? (Not to be confused with emotional blackmail which is a learnt skill!)











Just one more thing. Remember when Haley Joel Osment cornered the market in the melancholy and the downright miserable (Sixth Sense, AI, Pay It Forward)? In addition to wondering how he coped and, after a while, anticipating the likely mood of any film he appeared in, I remember thinking that he had been cast as much for his vulnerable look as anything else.

I have since become convinced that for a child actor to have a megabucks Hollywood career, as opposed to being cast as Lost Boy 3 or Bad News Bear 17, it helps to have a particular face shape - heartshaped, or with a fine jaw/pointy chin; pale, pale skin; and almost preternaturally wide-spaced eyes. Fey. Elfin. Vulnerable. The sort of face that conveys desolation, fear, pain and grief well, i.e. truthfully (cos the kid does have talent) and attractively, i.e. without doing anything unappealing like turning scarlet and producing noxous fluids from various orifices.

Because Dakota Fanning is not the only child working with dark material: children's movies inhabit a safe world, but in many adult films, children are victims, part of the 'everything' which has to be destroyed so that Hero will take on Villain in a good old-fashioned 97 minute orgy of bullets, car/helicopter/motorbike/roller skate chases and explosions. Our modern fairy tales.

I had a little gallery by way of illustration, but it seems to have e-vaporated. The faces belonged to Dakota Fanning, Haley Joel Osment, Elijah Wood, Christina Ricci and Winona Ryder. Some of them could be siblings, depending on the angle of the photo. I don't mean that the children themselves are gloomy and prone to depression. There are plenty of happy smiling pics. In fact, Dakota Fanning gets my award for World's Best Smile. She's absolutely beaming in most photographs.




















But - if it's ok for these children to play roles in films about domestic abuse, violent crime, cruelty and ignorance, how can we draw the line at sexual violence? Surely, to return to Dakota Fanning's latest film, it's a little late to start worrying about the erosion of her childhood innocence?

To be honest, I'm more concerned with the implications of the Vanity Fair (March 06) Tom Ford photograph of the then 12-year-old in Chanel frock, styled in glam-grunge with those direct, worldly-wise eyes. (Pity Scarlett Johannsson & Keira Knightly, who probably wish they hadn't done that cover!)

This is the age of Manga, and the big-eyed innocent adult child. Of androgynously alluring 'ageless' fairy art. Of three, four and six year-old girls in scaled down adult fashions, with bare shoulders and belly buttons; and teenage girls and young women attempting to live on 3 calories a day to achieve a boyish - androgynous - Size 00. Of children in First World countries being surrounded by images of sexuality, and being sexualised younger and younger, while Third World countries are fighting to eradicate child marriage and enforce a minimum age of consent. Of international paedophile rings and Internet porn, anxiety in the vestry, and front page 'candid' tabloid photographs of knickers straining over celebrity crotches on the lowest shelf at the newsagent's, next to the children's comics. It all adds up to a dangerous blurring of the border territory between childhood and adulthood.

People have always been fascinated by sex. Of course! Sex is a natural part of life, no more nor less, but it has become a dominant, perhaps the dominant cultural theme in the west. Between consenting adults please. There have always been teenage preganancies, often the result of consensual sex, despite minimum legal ages and statutory rape laws. Rates have been falling, as a result of better sex-education and realistic public health attitudes to contraception. Nowadays, though, our healthy, well-nourished children reach puberty younger and younger, with 9 year-olds sprouting in all directions. But they're still children. Mentally and emotionally.

However, with this blurring - insidious and blatant at the same time - of what constitutes childhood, childlike behaviour, interests and activities; and what is unmistakeably the preserve of the adult, we put our children in danger. If magazines, films and fashion houses are making children sexually self-aware earlier and earlier, some of our sprouting nine-year-olds may find themselves in very dangerous territory by the time they are eleven. And it may only be a matter of time before some cretin stands up in court and says of his young victim, 'She asked for it.' and genuinely thinks he has a case, because she walked the walk, and talked the talk. Never mind that she was just copying behaviour she'd seen in a film, or in her big sister.

Never mind that she was at least five years away from the age of consent.

Jobs in Dubai article

Extracts from an interview with the owner of JobsinDubai.com, part of an ITP article. Interesting reading for those aiming to make an informed decision on using an online recruitment agency to find work in Dubai. Follow the link to the original article.

Windows: We spoke to Mike, a graphic designer, who in the three-month period he was signed-up with you heard nothing at all.
Nofel Izz: “Whichever employer gets in touch with you, they'll directly contact you because they have all the information. People don't have the concept… Monster.com and Hot Jobs - everything is automated, the employers get in touch with you directly. It's strange that people here don't have the concept of an online recruitment company.”

............................................................

Windows: In terms of what people expect from Jobs in Dubai, do you think it's worth trying to reduce the number of dissatisfied customers - whatever that is - by changing or amending the site to help them regard you as similar to Monster?
Nofel Izz: “First of all, the first thing we tell people is, it's not a guaranteed service. There's no guarantee you're going to get a job. You can always get your money back.”

Monster

Hot Jobs

Jobs in Dubai

Buyer compare.

One for Dad

Happy Burns Night-as-was!

Up yer kilt!

















............though with Glasgow at -8 today, I expect they were all wearing their thermals last night!

An apple for the student

Today I had a bad case of blinkered teacher.

It's the second semester, and final year students face coursework deadlines in all subjects. This means that they absolutely must manage their time so that they can work towards these deadlines, while at the same time keeping up with daily classwork and homework assignments. It takes tremendous organisation and discipline.

One student is currently doing two major coursework assignments under my supervision: a 3500 word Research Commission for IB Theatre Arts; and a 4500 word Extended Essay, a compulsory extra-curricular assignment designed as a bridge to undergraduate work, which she has also chosen to do in my field. She researched both during her summer vacation last year, gave me a first draft of the Extended Essay last term, and yesterday presented me with a restructured Extended Essay, plus half a Research Commission, with evidence of considerable fresh research, all done over the winter 'break'. I duly went through both, pencilling comments and questions in the margins, noting errors in spelling and syntax; and saw her at lunchtime today for a twenty minute tutorial.

I realise now although I went through both pieces with her, noting good points, and pointing out shortcomings and areas which require more thought, more work, more more more, I completely failed to recognise and acknowledge all the effort, enthusiasm and dedication that this eighteen year old has put into these assignments in order to get them to this point; the fact that she has done this during a so-called vacation after a very demanding autumn semester; and the evidence of how diligently she is working to meet all the requirements of six subjects plus plus.

I was so busy looking at where the exam candidate was supposed to be going that I overlooked how far the teenager had come, and what an achievement that was. Of course, she came for guidance, but some appreciation would have been nice. No wonder she looked subdued by the time I was done.

I don't care what anyone says about the good old days, the continuing decline in academic standards, and so forth, most of these students work their tails off to meet one requirement after another, and often several at once.



















Praise where praise is due.

Olive

While I was trying to enlarge this small image, stolen from Muriel, it pixelated all over the place. So I'm doing it again, to demonstrate: instant cross-stitch pattern!

It takes a bit of fiddling with, but it works. Must try low-resolution colour images next.