Norwegian Wood

This movie was the third and final chance I gave Murakami. (I read two of his books before.) Honestly, it was twice too many chances. Murakami is like a guy you really want to like –he is nice, polite, well-to-do, kind to his parents... You know, all the wrong reasons. You give both of you many chances, and there are moments when you think: maybe we are getting there... But then, you never do. He is too bleak and name drops too much.

There was one thing I did manage to like in the movie. It was the idea of walking as catharsis. After one of the main character dies, his girlfriend and his best friend met every Sunday to walk together, silently, aimlessly and for hours on end in Tokyo.
I came across this cluster of trees on »last week’s walk in the Chilterns, and it reminded me of Norwegian Wood.

Camera-phone series #29.  Macro mode accidentally left on.

《马说》

世有伯乐然后有千里马。千里马常有，而伯乐不常有；故虽有名马，只辱于奴隶人之手，骈死于槽枥之间，不以千里称也。

马之千里者，一食或尽粟一石。食马者，不知其能千里而食也；是马也，虽有千里之能，食不饱，力不足，才美不外见，且欲与常马等，不可得，安求其能千里也！

策之不以其道，食之不能尽其材，鸣之而不能通其意，执策而临之曰：“天下无马。”呜呼！其真无马邪？其真不知马也！ 

A deadly observation

The man who said "I'd rather be lucky than good" saw deeply into life. People are afraid to face how great a part of life is dependent on luck. It's scary to think so much is out of one's control. There are moments in a match when the ball hits the top of the net, and for a split second, it can either go forward or fall back. With a little luck, it goes forward, and you win. Or maybe it doesn't, and you lose.

- Match Point (2005)

The infinite violet-rose of the artichoke heart

This cronopio's wild-artichoke clock is a wood artichoke of the larger species, fastened by its stem to a hole in the wall. Its innumerable leaves indicate what hour it is, all the hours in fact, in such a way that the cronopio has only to pluck a leaf to know what time it is. So he continues plucking them from left to right, always the leaf corresponding to that particular hour, and every day, the cronopio begins pulling off a new layer of leaves. When he reaches the centre, time cannot be measured, and in the infinite violet-rose of the artichoke heart, the cronopio finds great contentment. Then he eats it with oil, vinegar and puts another clock in the hole.

- "Cronopios and Famas", Julio Cortázar

Salomé

Salomé and the beheaded St John the Baptist in »Saura's rendition of the biblical story.

The bewitching Dance of the Seven Veils scene is »here.  His other films look so delicious too, especially Fados.

End of my indulgent diversion from work.  Must get back now. 

Wizard of Oz with Wicked Pink Floyd

It's American Culture Week at Goodenough and they decided to screen Wizard of Oz for Sunday Morning Coffee. The poster asked you to »download certain Pink Floyd tracks to bring along. What a fantastic idea.

So after a space of 20 years, I watched Wizard of Oz with Pink Floyd, coffee and cake on a languid Sunday morning. Technicolours and the hilarious lion tail were worth waking up to. And all the references in Wicked the musical came back with much more meaning now.

Highly recommended.

A Single Man

Rushed past the poster at the tube last night. Walked backwards to look at it.



And ooo, just take a look at »this delicious scene.

Instructions on how to comb the hair

So. The man will comb his hair without a mirror, working his open hand through it. The woman will make her reflection into a tower or treetop, whatever peak, where the lines of storm and the blue mark of the broody kingsfisher can be found. She'll know how to stem sweetly that flow from tenuous high tides, how to light the fires of remembrance without smoke. To comb the hair will be to take auguries for the rising day, give shape to the lover's secret thought, instruct from the blood the son not yet born.

When it comes to children, let the air comb them.

- Julio Cortázar, 'Historias de Cronopios y de Famas'

The parents of this boy are the lovely folks who invited me to share their New Year's Eve.  He has exactly the same tousled hair as his father, it's amusing to watch.

Two espressos in two separate cups

We just had to order them, after seeing »Limits of Control the night before ;)

Radio call

[Embedded video of Night on Earth trailer - click on original post to view]

I love the crackling sound of the radio call that was so common in cabs 20 years ago.

It took me a while to recall my father's radio call code name when I was watching the film, but I finally did. It was 42. As he was often late in picking me up when I was a child, I used to make many a calls to the radio call station from a public phone, asking the operator to transmit a message for 42 to hurry. I remember the operators' voices - there were a few of them, nearly all women except for the boss, who occasionally helped out during peak hours - and the anticipation in guessing their faces when my father took me to the radio station during Chinese New Year period one time.

A very well-done film by the way. The »soundtrack is by Tom Waits. I've just entered a contest for opening tickets to »Jarmusch's latest film. I hope I win it.

Please don't call the bluff

What was peculiar, and what was quite startling to me, is that it turned out that nobody ever did any scientific test on Van Meegeren, even the stuff that was available in his day, until after he confessed. And to this day, people hardly ever test pictures, even multi-million dollar ones. And I was so surprised by that that I kept asking, over and over again: why? Why would that be? Before you buy a house, you have someone go through it for termites and the rest. How could it be that when you’re going to lay out $10 million for a painting, you don’t test it beforehand? And the answer is that you don’t test it because, at the point of being about to buy it, you’re in love! You’ve found something... You want it to be real... The forger wants the collector to snap it up, and the collector wants it to be real. You are on the same side. You think that it would be a game of chess or something, you against him. “Has he got the paint right?” “Has he got the canvas?” You’re going to make this checkmark and that checkmark to see if the painting measures up. But instead, both sides are rooting for this thing to be real.

- Bamboozling Ourselves, New York Times blog

The next time we ask in despair of the financial mess, of love, or of life, "What were they thinking?", this is why: everyone wants the musical chairs to go on.

A fascinating story about Nazi-era forgery by the way. Read it »here.

Puff the Magic Dragon

On Friday night at a shisha bar, we found ourselves staring admiringly at Puff the Magic Dragon.

Puff was a magnificent Middle Eastern man who could emit billowy clouds of white smoke. (As opposed to our best-effort, but straggly little streams.) In fact, he is so impressive that we thought he should be hired at weddings in place of the unromantic dry ice machine.

* * *

This is the version of Puff the Magic Dragon that I read with my niece many years ago (we are only seven years apart). I think we picked it up from an abandoned bag of stuff at the lift lobby. Update: Cousin Ms T told me that this was a prize that she won in kindergarten! It was pretty much in the same condition that you see below - weathered with weakened spine. Sadly, it got lost over years of growing up and spring cleaning.

When Mr S tried to suggest a few weeks ago that my childhood book was "the same" as »the popular song by Peter, Paul and Mary, I protested loudly. My book is the 1965 edition by Paul Newman and Tony Tallerico and he is not the same Paul of the song ok?

After some research, I now reluctantly concede that my book is probably inspired by the song.

I love them both, but they are still not the same.




Note: I believe my Newman version is already out-of-print. In modern versions of Puff the Magic Dragon, Peter Yarrow from the trio and »Lenny Lipton - who wrote the poem which later becames the song's lyrics - both have a stake.

「海角七號」

やっと三ヶ月前の»「海角七號」を見た。

日本語。その懐かしい詩情と音。

夕方、日本海に出た。
……
台湾で冬を越す雷魚の群れを見たよ。
僕はこの思いを一匹に託そう。
漁師をしている君の父親が、捕まえてくれることを願って。
友子、悲しい味がしても食べておくれ。
君には分かるはず。
君を捨てたのではなく、泣く泣く手放したということを。
皆が寝ている甲板で、低く何度も繰り返す：
捨てたのではなく、泣く泣く手放したんだと。


黄昏，我们進入了日本海
……
遇見了要往台灣避冬的雷魚群
我把對你的相思寄放在其中一隻
希望你的漁人父親能捕獲到
友子，儘管它氣味辛酸
你也一定要嚐一口
你會明白
我不是拋棄你，我是哭泣地离开你**
我在眾人熟睡的甲板上反覆低喃：
我不是拋棄你，我是哭泣地离开你

**注：电影的字母把这句译成 “我不是抛弃你，我是捨不得你”。虽然听上去很有押韵，但语义有点说不通（不舍得似乎在为抛弃自圆其说），更重要的是没有正确地表达 “泣く泣く手放したということ” 中的哭泣与放手。

Hiroshima Mon Amour

In a few years, when I have forgotten you,
and other adventures like this one will happen to me from sheer force of habit,
I'll remember you as the symbol of love's forgetfulness.
I'll think of this story as of the horror of forgetting.

Je ne t'oublie pas.

Those heady days of summer

I was enamoured by 《颐和园》 （English: "Summer Palace"; French: "Une Jeunesse Chinoise"*) the day I read »its NYT review. Following a »second review on the Shanghaiist, I tried to locate it a second time and this time I was successful.

蒹葭苍苍，白露为霜。所谓伊人，在水一方。
溯洄从之，道阻且长。溯游从之，宛在水中央。**

Those heady days of summer... Those alluring days of intellectual debates, of passionate belief in ideals, of heads buried in pillows and tears, of joints smoked in caravans, of hungrily devouring Barthes and Nietzsche and love alike.

And we clamour to live again, those those heady days of summer. Even if we abandon years of a steady life in quest for it. Even if it leaves us with a gaping void afterwards.





* I like noticing the different translations for film titles in different languages.
** Can I repeat for the nth time just how poetic the Chinese language is?

Bedtime with Proust

Silent films and their live music

A delightful first time with live music accompanying silent films. This was the Blue Grassy Knoll at my favourite bar, playing their original compositions for Buster Keaton and a 1922 Chinese silent film, Labourer's Love. The best part for me was hearing the simulated sounds of shuffling mahjong tiles. Nice!

One more reason to love Glamour Bar

Glamour Bar is without a doubt my favourite bar in Shanghai - in part due to its gorgeous Bund location but mostly because of its never-dying atmosphere. (You know how some bars or clubs start going downhill after 12.30 am? At Glamour, it only keeps climbing up.) Oh, then there is that stylish M logo and irresistible postcards...

(Incidentally, I had met the designer of the M logo once through an acquaintance and we chatted over a few martinis (at Glamour of course). A young, humble and cool Chinese dude - what a great combination.)

I have now found one more reason to love Glamour - the »Shanghai Literary Festival.

Spanning two weeks and hosting three dozen authors from all over the world, the event was a welcome reprieve from the usual activities of checking out new bars / restaurants / exhibitions. Nursing a glass of wine on a Sunday afternoon, sitting back and listening to the Irish-accented readings by the authors, eyes occasionally darting to look out to the Bund, the event could not have been better done. I really liked observing how Glamour transforms from a glitzy late-night dancer into a subdued and refined lady of the afternoons / evenings...

Even better was the fact that Ms P and I got the tickets to the Amy Tan session at the last minute. She is a true storyteller - absolutely captivating and well-worth the 90-minute stand. From the moment she started her talk reading from the »CliffsNotes of Joy Luck Club ("I thought CliffsNotes were only for dead authors! So imagine my horror when I found myself appearing alongside with Shakespeare in the bookstore... I just had to buy it to see what it said about me."), all were smitten by her outstanding storytelling skills. Perhaps, it is only through weaving her signature humour with the formal (in the sense of structural) art of storytelling that she is able to publicly relate the chaotic childhood she has had.

My only lament was that I could not attend the session with Dai Sijie (author of Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress) - it was in French :(


Postscript: Perhaps inspired by the Literary Festival, I went into a reading frenzy the weeks after and finished 3 books in 3 weekends. Tim Winton's »Minimum of Two, Marquez's »Of Love and Other Demons and Marina Lewycka's »A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian. I highly recommend the last. It is so funny (Toshiba apples!) and irreverent ("You no-tit woman! what you doing here?") at the same time as it is so observant and poignant. Comedy and tragedy are often only a fine line apart, but very few authors have the finesse to straddle it well.

长今的心

《大长今》终于圆满结束了。其实我之前就已经忍不住猛追DVD看完全70集了，但日以继夜地追看后，没有《大长今》向往的日子突然觉得很空虚*。所以又再重新追看电视播映。

我一向对韩国有所抗拒，从没想过有一天会这么追看韩剧。但大长今的确是一部令人感慨万千的故事。剧中有两大幕是让我难忘的：第一幕便是之前一幅篇章所记录的»cut losses 感想 -- 即长今被遗弃在封锁的村庄，而闵政浩奋不顾身、义无反顾（女人所要的，不也就是这样么？）地闯进疫区救她。被遗弃的凄凉，被救回的感动…感情可以说是这样磨练出来的吧。虽然说欢笑难得，但一段养尊处优的感情和一段历尽沧桑的相比，坚固程度应该是不一样的吧。Perhaps delayed gratification does make for sweeter victory and more outstanding outcomes.

因为这样，我觉得长今和闵政浩俩必须有个完美的结局。他们都经历这么多波折了，总得成全他们吧！如果连虚拟的连续剧都不美满，那就真是太残酷了。

让我铭心的第二幕，便是皇上对长今的爱慕。长今闵政浩对彼此的肯定固然可嘉（尤其是射箭比赛那幕，闵政浩有骨气，皇上输了他竟不想让 ---- 也对，感情怎么可以想让呢？），但皇上对长今的爱慕也很凄美。普通的君主想必都会希望自己心爱的人陪自己到临终，但这个在万人之上的皇上卧在病榻上还想到成全长今和闵政浩让他们脱险，也算是慷慨大方，有情有意了。他当初留长今在自己身边的那段话，凄美得让我顿时愣住：

“身为君主，我下令你；身为男人，我请求你。”

后来在病榻的他又含泪感叹：“刚刚才见过长今，可是现在不知怎么的，又想见她…”长今这时捧着药又进了殿伺候皇上。皇上眼中闪着感激爱慕的泪光，凝望着长今认真的眼神、清秀的脸蛋、白皙的耳坠、樱桃似的小嘴… 这么可爱的女人，怎不让男人败在她裙下？

我常在想：长今对闵政浩的感情虽依然不变，但日积月累，她心中的某一角是否也渐渐地爱慕了皇上？更笼统地说， 一个人的心是否能够同时容纳超过一个人？

狮子座的我不喜欢与别人分享东西，尤其是男人的心。但我不得不承认，这一点可能连我自己也做不到。你的心的一大半可以义不容辞地去爱一个人，但其中的一小隅却有可能就是那么淡淡地、细细地爱另一个人。这另一个爱既是淡、也是是潜伏的，所以你最好别去问。有些问题是绝对不应该开口的；问了不但失礼，答案也不一定是你承受得了的。

所以闵政浩不过问长今她为什么会接皇上当初的上联，含泪地在病榻说：

“身为医官，身为女人，请让小的治疗皇上吧！”

--------------------
* 用“空虚”来形容听起来似乎夸张，但5月13日的晚上看完《大长今》DVD集的时候 （我连它的制作花絮和综艺节目都看了），真的有这样的感觉。可能一样东西追逐久了，总会沉溺…

Eureka moment

2 hours ago, I decided that I was still quite alert and wanted to watch a movie. So I went through my DVD collection for films I haven't watched and decided on Love on the Run. It was a suitable pre-bedtime film because it didn't contain violence, was a suitable 90-minute length and was also a Criterion Collection.

One hour into Love on the Run, I was happily enjoying the sound of the French language and deciphering the intertwined relationships between the characters when I saw this:


I thought, "The French must really like Balzac. Balzac was in 400 Blows as well."

Then the next frame came:


Oh my god. This IS from 400 Blows!

So I paused my film and went on Flikster to check 400 Blows. Voila, it's the same director Francois Truffaut!

I think the moment felt so wow because just 48 hours ago, I was commenting precisely on that Balzac connection in 400 Blows:
And it felt all the more Eureka because I didn't expect the connection at all until that very frame. (I have never noticed who directed 400 Blows.)

Very nice Eureka moment there. This is my lucky movie weekend. I shall plan on watching more.