Apr 28, 2011

Patefacio Vestri Libri

We said goodbye to our hosts at the Stables Bed and Breakfast near Newcastle and were in search of Hadrian's Wall. Our host had said it was easy to find. After all it was 74 miles long and stretched the breadth of England. Via a few small signs and a bit of luck we found it. O,r at least a part of it. We parked the little Benz by the side of the country lane and read the historical placard about the wall before crossing the fence for the short walk uphill to the wall remains.
Crossing the fence was an easy chore because there was a stairway. I don't think that I'd seen anything like it elsewhere. The British seem to make all historical sites easily accessible, and it was only about a fifty yard walk to the ruins.  After yesterday's walk up to Durham's cathedral this was a break!  It was a beautiful morning with the sun shining, the grass green and sheep bleating softly.

Hadrian's Wall, built about 122 A.D., and would you believe that Hadrian was the Roman emperor at that time?  The wall is 74 miles long and was designed to keep the Picks of Scotland out of England or restrict the movement of the people within the wall. The Picks were the blue-faced barbarian ancestors of Braveheart and perhaps me.  The wall was constructed of stone for the most part and twelve feet high.  There were forts at 5000 foot intervals called mileforts and turrets between the mileforts.  We were looking at one of the turrets.  Over one thousand years ago roman soldiers were standing here armed with spears, shields and swords. From this point they maintained the security of the  massive Roman Empire. This was the frontier and I was standing in their foot steps.  Once manned by soldiers from throughout the Empire, Spainards, Greeks, or North Africans, the wall was later manned by local Britons. The construction of this part of the wall is stone; some 30 odd miles are of earth.  Indeed Roman stone quarries are found along the length of the stone portion of the wall, and there are deposites of lime nearby for making concrete, the building material invented by the Romans. But this morning there is no rattling of weapons, just the soft bleating of sheep and the joyous laughter of a two-year-old  tumbling is the soft green grass. There is a family of mom, dad, children, and grandpa visiting the site as well, and I, lost in my thoughts of ancient soldiers, stand in awe of the achievement of Roman engineers.  Only one caveat at this site: watch out for the sheep dung!

Apr 27, 2011

I Have Reached the Heights of Outdoor Cookery!

I think that outdoor cooking is a guy thing. That's always who's doing it in the comic strips, and comic strips reflect life. Right? I'm sure that when we light that campfire, barbeque grill, or habachi we're thinking of cowboys around the campfire with beans in a pot over the fire and a half side of beef on the spit.   Or maybe a cracklin' fire under that skillet of fresh trout with the sound of that fast moving mountain stream nearby.  Some of my cooking has been a solitary effort, and some a group activity.

As I reach back into my memory for the first time I cooked anything outdoors it was probably when my buddy, Jimmy and I went camping. Of course we were about 9 or 10 years old and unrolled our sleeping blankets within a quarter mile of the farmhouse where I lived. Well, we cooked up some eggs and they stuck to the skillet.  But Jimmy told me that the way to clean the skillet was to scrub it with sand, and wash it out with water.  It got it clean, sort of. The next batch of eggs were kind of gritty.  But that was okay when you're having a great adventure.

Of course one of the first things you cook in the backyard or over a campfire are weiners on the end of a wire coathanger straightened out. There's something primitive about how that piece of meat gets all charred and crunchy.  And, you can eat it right off the wire. That's the way I like mine.

I do remember some group cooking in which I was only an observer.  When I was about seven years old I went to a hash cookin' with my father.  It seems that he would get together with some of his relatives every year and cook a pot of hash for the annual family reunion.  They would have at least two washpots for cooking.  Washpots were used in the olden days to boil clothes in for washing, but they were good for cooking, too. They would fill the pots with pork and a little beef with potatoes and seasonings and cook it all night long.  The meat eventually would literally fall apart,  or would with very little shredding.  My cousin and I would listen to the grown-ups' stories and tales  in the flickering firelight.  Much as we fought it, we would finally fall asleep.  The next day the hash would be served up in little cardboard trays with pickles and white sliced bread, and we would pig-out.

I learned to grill burgers and barbecue chicken.  I get a little impatient with chicken and cook it in the oven for about forty-five minutes before finishing it up on the grill. Steak and pork grilled are some of my favorites. Chicken on a stick is also one of my favorites, as well as bratwurst.  I would never put a brat on the grill before first cooking it in beer, preferably a dark.  And never puncture the brat and let out all that delicious juice.

I first started using a dutch oven when I was a Scout leader. I have a spider Dutch oven.  It' a big iron pot with legs on it and a flat lid to hold the charcoal on top. A dutch oven can be used to bake anything that you can bake in a conventional oven.  I've baked cake, cornbread, biscuits, coblers, and meatloaf in my dutch oven and used it as a big pot to make chicken bog. By the way, they're called dutch ovens because German peddlers sold them.  The Germans spoke "Deutch", pronounced "dutch" by the locals.

We camp a lot.  We've made two coast-to-coast trips and camped along the way. This calls for outdoor cooking, since we are tent campers. Some times we buy fresh produce at local markets.  I made some great corn chowder when we bought some fresh sweet corn in Wisconsin.  I cooked chicken and dumplings beside the Rogue River in Oregon.  Unfortunately, I  had to use Bisquick (I prefer scratch-made.) for the dumplings, but they were good.  My travelmate had picked fresh berries down by the river and made some blackberry dumplings, and I learned from her how to make the dumplings.

One of my favorite methods of cooking is smoking. This is a wet smoke rather than dry smoke.  Dry smoke is used for curing meat for preservation. I use a small smoker that uses charcoal for a heat source.  Over the years I have smoke cooked salmon, chicken, and turkey.  Smoke imparts a unique flavor to the meat that is cooked at a low temperature over a long period of time. The addition of various varieties of wood chips such as apple, pecan, or cherry imparts those flavors to the meat subtlety.   Which brings me to the height of outdoor cookery.

Recently, while in France, I frequently ate duck and liked it.  I had only ordered it once in a resturant here.  I decided that my next cooking project would be smoked duck.  The local Publix supermarket had just the duck I needed.  It weighed in at 4.2 lbs.  From the internet I got a recipe and went to work.  The basting liquid was of made up of orange zest, orange juice, rice wine, rice vinegar, fresh grated ginger, and some other stuff.  I filled the drip pan on the smoker and started the first batch of charcoal.  I basted it once per hour for six hours and continued to add charcoal (I used almost an entire bag.) to keep the temperature up to about 200 degrees. Mesquite wood chips that had been soaked in water were added to generate a smokey mesquite flavor. When the meat thermometer read about 160 degrees I took the duck off the smoker, and the skin was a golden brown.  It had taken  about five and one half hours to cook the duck. The skin was crispy, and the meat had a hint of the basting sauce and a touch of mesquite. It was tender and juicy. This was the best tasting meat I have ever cooked.  Duck gets a  bad rep for being greasy, but this was not the case. I served it up with canelli bean salad and mashed sweet pototoes.

I am sure I will never cook anything better than this duck! 

Apr 24, 2011

Sunday Night on Avenue des Champs-Élysées

aris, FrancOnce I was talking to a local Belgium-born artist and asked him what was his favorite city.  I knew he was a world traveler and no-doubt had a favorite city. He smiled, his eyes sparkled and a smile erupted on his bearded face. 
"Paris," he said.  
I wondered why.  I'd read about the famous people past and present who had called the French city home but wanted to see for myself.


It was our last day in Paris; in the morning we would take the train to Verrnon. In the morning we had visited the Louuvre and  Orsay Museums and had a bit of lunch.  Both museums were crowded but enjoyable just the same. We did , of course, see the Mona Lisa, Da Vinci's painting of world renown. We decided to take a leisurely stroll along the river in an easterly direction from Notre Dame. I looked for Duncan McLeod's barge but did not see it.  It was always tied up opposite Notre Dame in the television series, The Highlander.  The church in the middle of the Seine River is quite impressive, but crowds of tourists seem to overwhelm the spiritual ambiance of the place. 

In the Tuileries Garden we male a brief visit to Musee de l'Orangerie (Orangerie Museum)  showcasing the work of the  artist, Henri Manet.  His paintings of the water lilies in his garden are huge, with one of them covering an entire wall.  Other painters of his era are represented as well. While there we saw an old man dressed  like a painter of that era with flowing beard and floppy hat.  We then continued our walk in the garden and sat for a while on a park bench watching a family play a game of boule.  This game is played throughout Europe but known by different names. Basically a player tries to throw a heavy ball, boule, about softball size at a smaller target ball or "cochonnet".  Points are scored by the player getting closest to the target ball.  It's a team sport and the first team getting to 13 points is the winner.   It was enjoyable to watch a family having so much fun on a Sunday afternoon. I was surprised in our walk not to see any painters with their easels; they were always in the movies.  I did see some cheap reproductions for sale on one of the bridges. It would have been nice to have pulled my beret low over my eyes and dipped a brush into some French ultramarine blue oil and put it on canvas.  Maybe next time.

We continued our walk to Place de la Concorde which is the city's largest square.  The gardens and the square were created by Louis XIV, and later he lost his head there as well as Marie Antionette. Avenue des Champs-Elysees begins here. There was an oriental couple in western wedding garb here talking with well-wishers beside a stretch limousine surrounded by other cars and pedicabs.  We continued our walk along the busy avenue and stopped at a park bench to people watch for a while.  We considered buying some ice cream but thought it was too expensive, one Euro per boule.  They sell it by the "boule" instead of  by the scoop  .  All sorts of vehicles were on the avenue: exotic sports cars, limousines, motorcycles, and the ubiquitous motorscooters.  I actually saw a man doing a wheelie on a scooter.  Some of the French women were dressed to the nines.  The epitome of feminine eye candy!  We walked from the shady tree lined area to where the shops and restaurants were and found a delightful place to eat. It had just opened for dinner. Great food in an incomparable atmosphere. Food isn't cheap in Paris.  Remember everything has that 19% value added tax. And there is no required tipping. I've heard many stories about the rudeness of French waiters.  We found them to be quite professional. You must remember that dining in France is a leisurely experience.

After finishing our dinner, (I had that famous peasant dish, cassoulet, a rich stew of various meats and white beans), we continued walking toward the Arc de Triomphe and saw the shops of all the world famous clothing designers and jewelers and watchmakers. The street was full of a festive crowd and all the streetlamps were now on. There were automobile dealer showrooms and we looked around the Peugeot showroom since we were going to rent a Peugeot when we reached Rouen.  It was amusing to see a salesman apprehending an over zealous shopper asking him to get  out of a car on display.  I did not understand the language but understood the intent. After all I had once been an automobile salesman.

By now it is twilight and the neon is reflecting off the sidewalk as the huge monument to Napoleon's victories looms ahead.  Twelve streets merge at the Arc de Triomphe and are named for army generals.
We join the crowd to enter the 164 foot tall monument. We were unaware that this particular Saturday was "free" day.  On certain days during the year national attractions such as this have the admission charge waived.  This was such a day, and I think every Frenchman between Paris and Nice was there.  But how many times would we get a chance to go tho the top of such a world renowned attraction? So, you stand in line. It wasn't so bad, and we took the elevator, which isn't very obvious.  After the final few steps the panoramic view of Paris, the city of light, awaits us.  There are few lights on top and I was moving toward the rail in semi-darkness when I accidentally bumped into a couple at my feet who were too much  into each other to notice me.  But the young woman looked over his shoulder and gave me a knowing look as I apologized and passed by.  The view is fantastic!  The sun is setting, the city sparkles with lights, and the lighted traffic streams to and from us and circles around our feet. People speak with "u-u-uhs" and "a-a-ahs" in several different languages as the sun descends below the horizon.

We make our descent through the gift shop after reaching ground level. We stop a few minutes to take a photo of the grave of the unknown soldier from WWI. The monument reads:

ICI REPOSE UN SOLDAT FRANÇAIS MORT POUR LA PATRIE 1914–1918 ("Here lies a French soldier who died for the fatherland 1914–1918").
There is an "eternal" flame marking the grave.  It's said that Jacqueline Kennedy got the idea for such a flame for her husband's grave here when she and Jack Kennedy visited this place with then French president Charles de Gaulle.
 
We catch the metro back to our hotel at 110 Rue des Orteaux.  Our hotel is in the part of Paris made famous by the singer Edith Piaf who  grew up singing for tips on the streets. It was a fairly long ride but made interesting by a Frenchman who had obviously had too much wine.  He kept trying to get someone to sing with him but was unsuccessful.

It was a great day, one we will long remember.  I think the painter was right.  I can't say exactly what it is about Paris, but it's my favorite city, too.

Links:

Apr 20, 2011

A Traveler's Sketchbook

I have been an avid sketchbook artist for many years. I always have one with me.  My car has one also.  And, yes I do draw on napkins at restaurants sometimes.  When I first started drawing before toilet training I would have used a sketchbook them but, alas, my parents didn't get me one.  I'm not really sure if they are visual image repositories or just annotated journals.  I can't conceive of an artist or the hands of the curious being without one.

Over the years I have developed some preferences in sketchbooks.  I prefer a small book  (14 x 21.6 cm)
with paper as heavy as I can find.  I prefer 90lb paper.  Because if you want to add color with watercolor the heavier paper will wrinkle less. For drawing, I prefer a black ballpoint, something like you would find on the nightstand at Motel 6.  I have used pencil, but it smears unless you carry a travel size aerosol of hairspray or fixative to fix the drawing.  I usually lost the hairspray.  In the back of my sketchbooks a paste an envelope of a size that will fit.  This is great place to keep ticket stubs, tokens business cards or maybe a few pesos. I use my books daily whether traveling or not. I develop painting ideas, make notes for videos,  copy song lyrics and  add about anything else that will fit.

Here are some examples:


On these pages I've worked out a color scheme for a painting on the upper left while below it I have done a storyboard for a video presentation.




The right side has value sketches and designs to be included in the video.




On the left page recounts an interesting event.  We were in a restaurant in Newcastle, England, where the service was extremely slow.  We entertained ourselves by writing limericks on post-its and sticking them on the page. 
On the right is a small drawing from Scotland with watercolor wash. (I usually do the washes in a hotel room in the evening rather that on site.)





Above on the left is a watercolor sketch for a larger painting.  I like to work out the a lot of the detail in the smaller scale.  In the book on the right  are rubbings of foreign coins.  I normally don't carry a pencil, but my wife loaned me an eyebrow pencil which worked quite well.   You will note on the top of the next page over the miscellaneous drawings is the layout of a hotel room.  Yes, I draw floor plans and maps as well. One of the books has a  extensive collections of drawings of the ruins of a 18th century South Carolina mill and the probably machinery for its operation.

Not shown are rubbings of plants, stickers, labels from beer bottles, collages, stampings, and other stuff.  (One of my books has a passport stamp in it.) Did mention "doodles"? The books are not just for drawings.

My sketchbooks are quite autobiographical.  They will tell you where I was and usually what I was thinking at a perticular point in time. if you don't have a sketchbook, get one!  If you have one, ise it!  You'll be glad you did.

Apr 18, 2011

James Gurney, the dinosaurs are coming!

On Sunday we were due our monthly Barnes and Noble fix. I have a prescribed route I take in the store. First, what's new in the cheap stuff in the lobby, then past the books in the main aisle. If it is the usual browsing mission then to the art books and finally to the magazine stand to peruse the newest periodicals. After scavenging knowledge on subjects from cinema  to Google hacks, I'm picking up a few and heading to the coffee shop where the odor of Starbucks blends with that of printers ink for that most intoxicating of aromas. With my decaf mocha I'll enjoy my latest  issue of my favorite publication with my mate. And there are always new discoveries. Enter James Gurney.
Gurney is most well known for his Dinotopia books which are illustrated stories from an imaginative land inhabited by dinosaurs and people. His work from concept to execution is fantastic. The style is like that of the twentieth century illustrators, Howard Pyle, N. C. Wyeth and Norman Rockwell. But I like to find out more about these people who introduce us to the fantastic. Where do they come from? What is their training? What inspires them?

from Fire and Ice
James Gurney was born in 1958 and grew up in Palo Alto, California. His father was a mechanical engineer and he was the youngest of five children. Much like me he liked to tinker and build things as a boy. He studied archaeology at the University of California, Berkeley, but received a BA in Anthropology in 1979. He then studied illustration at the Art Center College of Design in Pasadena, California for a couple of semesters. After a cross-country trip, he and Thomas Kinkade (aka, The Painter of Light) coauthored The Artist’s Guide to Sketching in 1982. Gurney and Kinkade also worked as painters of background scenes for the animated film Fire and Ice, co-produced by Ralph Bakshi and Frank Frazetta. Frezetta was a well know painter of fantasy magazine covers. Gurney produced many magazine covers for the science fiction and fantasy publications. National Geographic Magazine was a client, and he produced a series of illustrations of dinosaurs for U.S. postage stamps. In 1992 he published Dinotopia: A Land Apart from Time which became a best seller. Later he produced sequels to the book. His paintings have the quality of the classical illustrators with unerring accuracy to detail as seen in the video below. Notice that his medium is oil usually applied in transparent layers. The anatomical accuracy of the animals and the technical accuracies of mechanical objects is unbelievable. Although, I'm not quite sure how you would ascertain the accuracy of mythical beasts and fictional mechanical objects. He currently lives in Rhinebeck, New York, and continues to produce great art along with books on art instruction as well and maintains two websites and a blog.



Additional information:

Apr 15, 2011

Tinkerer's Delight

I am a confessed tinkerer.  I think it's genetic. My brain as a child was warped by reading those books about famous inventors and scientists. I believed that I could build anything.  I did have may famous follies.  Most notable was a rocket. In the 1950's space travel was depicted in Life Magazine as rocket and satellite whizzing through the universe.  Why should I not build my own model rocket from scratch.  I had built model planes and cars.  My first plane was a Piper Cub, built it before I could read, just followed the step-by-step pictures.  When I was about  and my interest in rockets peaked I would build a gunpowder powered rocket.   Around the house I found everything I needed: gunpowder from Dad's shotgun shells, an empty toilet paper tube for the body of the rocket, and a nosecone I whittled from the wood of a packing crate.  After assembly, needed a way to ignite the powder remotely.  I didn't want to use a traditional fuse. (That would put me too close to the rocket.  I scrounged a bit of with from a discarded hot plate and wrapped between two nails and inserted it into the tail of the rocket.  I had an old piece of two-conductor wire with a plug on it and attached one wire to each nail.  Time for the countdown.  3-2-1-(plug it in)-Blast-off!
Smoke and fire were forthcoming, but it did not move.

My family was upset about the loss of electricity.  I was severely admonished for another one of my "scientific" projects.

I can't help but wonder what I could have done with the shop below.

Fairey Tale Redux

I like the movie, Hanna.  It's the story of a genetically altered teenage girl, Saoirse Ronan, trained by her father, Eric Bana, to be a fighting machine. An innocent sought to be destroyed by the resident evil, Cate Blanchette. It has nuances of fantasy with the chill  of a good thriller and a story line that is vaguely familiar. I particularly like the visual effects of the film. It appeared to be shot in the post apocalypic light of the future. The action scenes, and there are many, are well done but not quite overdone and the CGI work blends effortlessly. But the fight scenes, as in most current films, seem to be video game recreations. One note on lack of detail: The warm breath of the dying caribou in the opening scene does not fog the cold northern  air. All actors offer good performances, but I feel that Blanchette underplayed her role a bit. The bloody tooth brushing scene is a plus. The film exhibits good direction by Joe Wright, the London trained director, known for his direction of Atonement. 



It's a good thriller and I would watch it again.

Linx:

Apr 14, 2011

Travel Bits

As you know from previous posts, we love to travel. We prefer journeys of  roughly three weeks in duration and we don't like organized tours although sometimes that is the only way to see what we wish in the allotted amount of time.  We prefer to experience the maximum at the minimum of financial expenditure. Another preference is to take the Robert Frost road which is to say the road less traveled. One way is which we plan and execute is with our travel folder and a good guidebook.
The travel folder is a simple manila folder with the spring clips to hold the pages in.  On the left side is our itinerary in chronological order. It contains in a table  from left to right:
  • Date and  day of journey (i. e. Day 25)  and location of that day
  • what we wish to see that day
  • the nights lodging ( inn, B & B,etc.)
  • Daily mileage (we prefer to drive)
  • Total mileage
As a sheet is completed it is moved to the back.

On the right side of the folder is the documentation to support what is on the left side.  Here would be car rental agreements, lodging confirmations, and/or maps from Google or Yahoo maps. (Navigation is crucial when driving in a foreign country, particularly one with a different language. In our case the non-driver reads directions to the driver.) These pages are moved to the back also as they are used.  There is also an additional manila envelope attached to the inside of the right side which keeps small  items such as tickets or brochures where needed.

This folder has the culmination of about nine months of planning. The bulk of the reservations are made on line as well as the details of attractions to see. Details of attractions are very important when visiting popular sites.  In France there are days when there is no admission charge to national attractions.  That is when crowds are at their greatest. To be confronted with the least crowd we try to visit in early morning or late afternoon and pay admission.  Also be aware that some attractions close during lunch.  We missed the Toulouse-Lautrec Museum in Albi, France, because we were there during lunchtime.  Lunchtime was two hours long!

Get a good guidebook.  We prefer Rick Steves'.  We have long been fans of his travel shows on PBS and have used his books and travel products successfully.  But we investigate other books as well.  Lonely Planet and Frommers' have good books too.

Planning pays off when you're traveling and a travel folder is a big part of planning.

Sources:
Travel stuff
Travel books         

Apr 11, 2011

I bet there's rich folks eatin'

The lines from that Johnny Cash song, Folsom Prison Blues, tells the story of social disparity oh so well.
I bet there's rich folks eatin',
In a fancy dining car,
They're probably drinkin' coffee,
And smokin' big cigars,

But I'm stuck in Folsom Prison,
And time keeps draggin' on



Recently I watched a film by filmmaker Jamie Johnson which the trailer describes. It was interesting and enlightening and with blatant editorial bias. Mr. Johnson believes that the rich in this country have too much money and that is not good. It's the classic "haves" versus "have nots" argument. Interestingly enough  Mr. Johnson is a member of the social class he vilifies. His income is derived from the family fortunes of Johnson & Johnson. He does not have to work for a living. While I must agree that perhaps the third or later generation removed from the creator of the family wealth may become isolated from actual work, initially someone had work to create the family wealth. Mr. Johnson advocates that the rich should share their wealth. What would this accomplish? Perhaps the rich would not provide the investment to create new business ventures that would create jobs? And what about the taxes and fees business pays to government? Could they be taxed into losing their profit incentive? And would we not continue our downward spiral into a  entitlement society?

Recently in Monaco I saw some of the most ostentacious trappings of wealth, huge yachts and expensive motorcars. But with all their wealth and misuse of power, we need the rich.


Has a poor man ever given you a job?

Apr 7, 2011

Cote d' Azure


"It may get stuck between floors," he said. Maurice, the desk clerk at the Riviera Hotel, 2 Avenue Albert, Villefranche-sur-Mer, told us as we inquired about the elevator. His seven-year-old daughter didn't notice us as she was deeply involved playing with an imaginary friend.  I took the elevator on Marrices's insistance that he would get meout in case tthe elevator got stuck. Our room was small but neat and tidy, and we immediately opened the floor length windows to the balcony. The view of the harbor was stunning. The Mediterranean Sea was its customary brilliant blue.  Luxury yachts the size of small ocean liners were taut on their mooring lines. This was the French Riviera.

Our drive from Vaison la Romaine  had been exhausting.  After all, we did make a few wrong turns in downtown Nice, but that did not curb our inquisitive spirit.  Maurice gave us a map of the town and pointed out a few places to eat. (Desk clerks can always do this for they have friends at restaurants.)  They know what the prices are, also. He reminded us that the closer the eatery was to the water the more expensive it would be.

There were a limited number of hours of sunlight left, and we had to get started. Down the stone streets and alleys of the medieval town we went.  First, we passed Saint Michael's church, built in the 18th century, that is in the "Old Town". We continue our downward walk toward the sea, since all towns on the Cote de Azur are on hillsides by the sea.  Our quest, or I should say, hunger for food led us to an oriental restaurant. (The restaurants suggested by the desk clerk were closed.)  The food and service were good,  but they wouldn't take our credit cards.  We prefer to carry very little cash, just a  hundred euros or so from the ATMs. The lengthy time for service is the norm in France, but is difficult for we Americans to adjust to it. We pass shops on the narrow streets as we continue.   But, the walk to the shoreline is worth the effort. If you are young, or just feel that way, there is nothing like the walk by the waterfront cafes as patrons from the yachts at anchorage come ashore.  The lights of the city beckon you as the music drifts across the water, with wafts of the odors of exotic foods and the stars above twinkle. And you wonder, "Can life be any better than this?"
We stop and look for creatures in the stars and talk in those hushed tones that lovers use before the walk through darkened streets to our hotel room many feet above sea level.

Apr 5, 2011

Film for a Winter's Day

It was a cold day in upstate New York when I found this VHS tape of "Diva" on the library shelf. It was one of those winter days when the sun refused to shine and the day was in that traditional dim light of winter when the piles of snow had lost their brilliance. I pushed the tape into the slot in the VHS player came to life in my minuscule studio apartment after turning on the tea kettle.


The film consumed me completely. The tea kettle boiled over. I hurried back to the small screen with my cup of tea to resume my adventure into foreign films and look for the 1951 Studebaker pictured on the VHS box. This film had many features that made me a fan. The contrast of opera to the quirky jazz background music. Mini-skirted roller skaters, Orientals in dark glasses, classic cars and chase scenes all add to the charm of this film. This was one of the first foreign films I had seen and subsequently became a fan. I continue to watch this film today, it still has charm.

From the Rotten Tomatoes website:
Director Jean-Jacques Beineix launched the Cinema Du Look movement with this stylish cult thriller that remains as innovative today as when it premiered in 1981. Jules (Frederic Andrei), a young postal carrier, illegally tapes a concert of a reclusive opera singer (American soprano Wilhelmenia Wiggins Fernandez). Jules' attempts to woo the diva are interrupted when Taiwanese bootleggers come after the recording. His problems worsen when a prostitute slips another tape, one that incriminates a police chief, into his bag. Jules must escape the police chief, the cop's henchmen and the bootleggers to keep both precious tapes safe - and to stay alive. Featuring critically acclaimed cinematography and a celebrated chase through the Paris Metro, Diva earned Cesar Awards for Best Music, Best Cinematography and Best Directorial Debut.

But, there is no 1951 Studebaker in the film.

For more information and critiques.