Saturday, 19 December 2020

Dark Days

As we enter our 9th month of staying home, we know there are many more similar months ahead.  Winter weather continues to come and go.  We dodged a mighty storm a few days ago, just catching the extreme north of it, which gave us about an inch of snow, now mostly gone.  Essex County continues to be among the worst Covid outbreaks in Canada, despite a "lockdown" that isn't really much of a lockdown.  Almost 250 cases yesterday, and nearly 200 today.  The main cause--nursing homes and community spread.  Hospitalizations and deaths continue locally, including a young man in his 20s with no underlying health issues.

With a Jupiter/Saturn conjunction coming on Monday evening, we are looking forward to---incessant cloudy days and nights.  December is often the only month of the year where I do not get a single clear night during my two week window of opportunity for observing, and this year has been no exception.  It's doubtful we'll see the sun on Solstice Monday, but this is quite a common theme here, being surrounded by vast bodies of water that is still warmer than the air.

The listening program rocks on.  Currently featured on our evening playlists are the earliest compositions by Beethoven, supplemented by appropriate chapters in Swafford's excellent biography; the Haydn string quartets (a lot of them, and each one unique and charming); Rodelinda, an opera by Handel; and 12 harpsichord fantasias by Telemann, at least one of which we found on line and printed the score, hoping to add it to my next next recital.  Not to mention just listening to whatever we feel like putting on, including internet radio.

But I know you are only reading this blog to find out which films we have been watching.  It's always amusing when a website tries to recommend something for us to watch based on previous views.  Our tastes are so wide and varied that their statistics have no real idea what we might enjoy next.

I chose Mishima, from 1985 and directed by Paul Schrader, as my main weekly selection.  Filmed in Tokyo but essentially made for American audiences, it has yet to be officially shown in Japan.  It sold extremely well there on videocassette when released, however.  The Japanese author is still a very controversial subject in that weird little country.  The film is in four parts, mixing biographical sections with intensely artistic sections from three of his novels.  The music by Philip Glass can seem jarring in places, since the cinematic visuals are so Japanese, and the music so western.  But it mostly works well.  The two hour film, which we both really liked, is backed by two hours of extras, essential viewing to get a full understanding of the film (if not of Mishima himself).  I am interested enough to add a few of his books to my reading list.

 
Now showing on Criterion Channel, along with a lot of essential extras.




4 scenes from Mishiima.

Next I chose a film from the "leaving Dec. 31st" list, another comedy directed by Ernst Lubitsch.  The Smiling Lieutenant is a 1931 film of an operetta written by Oscar Straus, a Viennese composer of such things, it stars Maurice Chevalier as a skirt chasing lieutenant in the Emperor's guard who falls for a female violinist Claudette Colbert, but has to marry a spoiled princess instead (
Miriam Hopkins).  While I am not a great fan of Chevalier, he is just fine in this role, and his expressive face is fun to watch, especially as he prepares for his court martial for smiling and winking at the princess (he was really aiming at Colbert).  There are many extremely funny moments, though the picture is not as good as the later Trouble In Paradise.  Hopkins almost steals the show as a spoiled little girl princess, who is brought into the full flower of womanhood by her rival, Colbert.  Her transformation is uproarious!  But all the acting is good.  The singing and songs not so much.

Leaving Criterion on Dec. 31st.

The princess, before her transformation...

...and after.  A highlight of the precode era... 
 
In art news, I chose to show another one of very few Surrealist paintings held by the DIA.  This kind of art went completely out of fashion when it was highly affordable for public museums to buy.  But they didn't buy it, choosing to go after completely boring Monets and Picassos instead.  Today, Surrealist art from the golden age is still very hard to acquire, and very expensive.  Perhaps now having read so much of J. G. Ballard's writing, I have come back to this style with a deeper understanding and appreciation of it, though I have always been a fan.

Andre Masson's The Seeded Earth is every bit as interesting and fun to view as a good film.  At first it seems chaotic and explosive, with its thrusting shapes and vibrant colours.  It's one of the more dynamic of the Surrrealist works, and leads the eye on a merry chase across a landscape filled with a strange beauty in its unsettled canvas.  Can you find the plow in the center?  Man and Nature will always battle and be at odds, but it won't always look this wonderful and mysterious.

The Seeded Earth, by Andre Masson, French (1896-1987).  Oil on canvas, 30" x 40".
Collection Detroit Institute of Arts. 
 
Mapman Mike


 


 

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