Eat. Pray. Love. Or Don't.

I admit, I havn’t read the book. So I can only whine about the film… Shortage of Champaign on the first place. No, the premiere evening started marvelous, it’s the “entracte” that was disappointing: they substituted prosecco with some fancy bite-size ice cream (it was “ladies night”, see)...but in the middle of the (very long) movie I was longing a minimum for a beer.

I was kind of confused. Something didn’t add up. The scenery was beautiful: lively Rome and Naples, spicy India and serene Bali… Julia Roberts was beautiful as always, and she went through trouble (or fun?) of gaining a few kilos for the film… And all those beautiful clothes she wore in Rome (plus endless matching accessories)! And I still didn’t like it.

Searching for a word to describe the film I couldn't come with a better one than “shallow”. I thought I am not getting it again (remember Ballet C de la B?...), so I looked up some reviews…Some of them were kind, mostly about the book. But critics can be so bitter, as if the director made all the faults just to spite them. Peter Travers (American film critic, who has written for People and Rolling Stone) referred to watching it as "being trapped with a person of privilege who won't stop with the whine whine whine." I am with Peter (I bet they didn’t serve him beer either).

Another word is “unrealistic”. It didn’t really fit to any style. Not funny enough for a comedy (apart from that Richard Jenkins bloke from Texas). Not tragic enough for a drama (again apart from the Richard Jenkins moments) . And the husband, the poor sod. I thought Roberts would come back after all the useless chanting (especially it was underlined quite clear). It would make sense then: Finding oneself, coming to the beginning, completing the circle, back to the roots, blah, blah.

Noooo, she finds a hunk in Bali instead, who happens to be divorced, vacant, AND with a jewelry business. And when he offers her a little boat trip (after two weeks of heavenly sex) she flips out and yells at him (Hey, Groceries, it’s the Javier Bardem you are yelling at!) as if he just told her she was fat (or something).

That was my impression of the day, sorry. Perhaps I should have had that ice cream after all. To sweeten the pill.

Have a lovely second half of the week :-)

AB

Under a glass bell

“Life is a process of becoming, a combination of states we have to go through. Where people fail is that they wish to elect a state and remain in it. This is a kind of death.”

Anaïs Nin

If I could paint events and impressions of the last week, the image would be a bright, surrealistic mosaic, consisting of multicolored pieces and disconnected bits. Lines and circles floating next to each other, intertwining and breaking off. Deep reds and blue-grays, greens with specks of blackness and some light, maybe. How can one paint other people’s longing and trust, one’s own affections and fears? Or transport onto the canvas thousands of kilometers – travelled, and those awaiting to be made?..

Or would it be a surrealistic etching? Like the one I received on a Saturday morning from a far away friend?

It’s the most beautiful book cover I have ever seen. It is made by Ian Hugo aka Hugh Parker Guiler , the husband of Anaïs Nin, my beloved Anaïs. My first book of her short stories…signed. I still don’t quite believe it; I open the first page carefully and stare at the delicate inscription. I am afraid: the truth is I am a terribly messy reader; I buy second hand books to read without a guilt of destroying them.

This is so much more than a book. It’s a collection of secrets, visions and dreams… “Our life is composed greatly from dreams, from the unconscious, and they must be brought into connection with action. They must be woven together.” (Anais Nin)

I wish you all a great start into a new week and call (meet/sms/write) your friends to tell them you care.

Love,

AB

After Byron

On the early grey Tuesday morning I am sitting in the train with the prisoner of Chillon by my side, a little volume of Lord Byron’s poetry. Swiss Riviera is the destination of the day.

Chillon castle squats grumpily on the Lake Leman as if reproaching everyone for the merriness of the region.

“Lake Leman lies by Chillon's walls:

A thousand feet in depth below

Its massy waters meet and flow:

Thus much the fathom-line was sent

From Chillon's snow-white battlement,

Which round about the wave inthrals:

A double dungeon wall and wave

Have made - and like a living grave…”

Lord Byron, The prisoner of Chillon

Curious tourists seem in a hurry to leave the mournful place and so am I: out, out, on the cheerful alleys, full of palaces and cafés, flowers and sounds of jazz…. Until I see something really beautiful - light, modest September sun rays, amusing themselves dipping in and out of elaborately carved thousand-year-old wood, playing hide and seek in medieval metal door handles, polished by hands of thousands of tourists… I am mesmerized and suddenly I want to stay...

"My very chains and I grew friends,

So much a long communion tends

To make us what we are: - even I

Regain'd my freedom with a sigh."

Lord Byron, The Prisoner of Chillon

Gardenia

Yesterday I happily accepted an invitation to a theater performance within the Zürcher Theater Spectakel (another openair thingy) on the seaside of the Zürich lake. It all started so magical, tents with food and drink, clowns and acrobats doing their numbers beside the boats rocking peacefully on the lake, guru-looking guys playing didgeridoos…I should have stayed put right there… Nononono, I went to see “Les ballets C de la B”…fecking misleading name, I tell you. (I naïvely thought at first that C from B was a pirouette trajectory…now I am afraid even to guess…:-)

I have never been so angry in my entire life - or at least for a very, VERY long time - about “the art” (and about 50 francs vanished into thin air). The worst part? Being so disappointed and feeling fooled while surrounded by excited audience and standing ovations… I wanted to get it, I really wanted to get it, but I didn’t… Till the last minute I waited that the lead “actor” would come out and say: “ye poor lads, so patient, we pulled you leg so hard for one and a half hour, here is your 50 stutz and 10 more for a beer”. But it never happened. There were STANDING ovations instead…

Here is some description from their homepage: “Inspired by the penetrating film Yo soy asi, in which the closing of a transvestite cabaret in Barcelona affords us a glimpse into the private lives of a memorable group of old artists, actress Vanessa Van Durme collected a number of transsexual and transvestite friends. She could win over directors Alain Platel and Frank Van Laecke and composer Steven Prengels for a project that can be called unique in every respect. Gardenia goes deep into the turbulent lives of nine striking people. Seven older individuals who seemingly effortlessly navigate the twilight zone between being male and being female. In contrast and harmony with a “young guy” and a “real woman”. Each on a quest and each with their own intriguing story.”

I am sorry, how could I miss “the story”? Oh, there was no story. There was no glimpse into no one’s life… Ok, there was a fierce introduction of characters in the beginning, edgy words like “fucked”, “dildo”, “knickers” jammed in one sentence made a good start…not. A bunch of hobos could have done the job (given the wigs and makeup). It was neither shocking nor fine… just plain vulgar, was that the aim? Ah, there WAS a fun part: lots of Russian talk. I dig it, ok, because I am Russian, what about the others? Why? Why?... It sounds mysterious? Yes, perhaps, but then make a good text to go with it… But there was no need for a good text: psychedelic music was rumbling, filling every cavity with nonsense and paranoia, replacing the substance. They use this trick in bad films. Good trick, but not new: Bradbury wrote about it 60 years ago.

The Guardian wrote this a few years back: "...thus began Les Ballets C de la B, now one of the most influential dance theatre companies in the world". It might, MIGHT be true, but they FORGOT to do the dancing during "Gardenia"! No, wait, there was one strip-type number during the show, but I rather go a strip club somewhere in Brugg to get the satisfaction...

God knows I am not a mean person, I am sweet and understanding (especially if no one tries to rip me off), and “arty”… But this time my little inexperienced, uneducated, uncultivated heart rebelled and I cannot stop it. Even a half of a bottle of fine Roija couldnt help me to overcome the grief (it's NOT only the money…) No more gardenias for me, next time I’ll go with…with…jeez, I am not good in gardening either.

Lots of love to everyone, even to Les ballet C de la B.

Truly yours, from A to B :-)