Chappaquiddick

I don't know much about the Kennedys, and hadn't heard of the Chappaquiddick incident before watching this film, which was quite serious and quite good, including in the eeriness of the scenes leading up to the fatal accident, the weight it gives to Mary Jo Kopechne's death, Ted Kennedy's characterisation (was his father's breathing over the telephone meant to invoke Darth Vader?), and the way the political hardheads handle the situation.

An aside - Jackie has turned out to be one of those films which has really stuck and grown over time.

(w/ Erandathie)

"5 x 5 Rules of Writing" (Emerging Writers Festival)

Michael Mohammed Ahmad, Isobelle Carmody, Stuart Grant, Melissa Lucashenko and Ellen van Neerven. Hosted by Izzy Roberts-Orr. A diverse panel, and a diverse set of responses.

I was most struck by Ellen van Neerven's, which were, close to in their totality:

1. Write with your body as well as your brain. Look after your body.
2. Living is more important than writing.
3. Limit the notifications in your life - social media and other forms of instant gratification.
4. Know who you are before you write, and take responsibility for that.
5. Honour your heroes.
(And for First Nations writers and writers of colour: don't underestimate your power.)

Also, Melissa Lucashenko quoting James Baldwin: "You think your pain and your heartbreak are unprecedented in the history of the world, but then you read. It was books that taught me that the things that tormented me most were the very things that connected me with all the people who were alive, who had ever been alive."

"MoMA at NGV" (first visit)

One of those that I could feel nourishing me as I moved through it. Organised in eight thematised sections, each covering around two decades from the late 19th century on, it's a wonderful survey of modern art, taking essentially a 'greatest hits' approach to its selection of artists, with the result that there are pieces by all of the 'big five' of my favourite painters:

Giorgio de Chirico - "Gare Montparnasse (The melancholy of departure)" (1914), which is heartstopping when actually seen, not least - but far from only - because it's so much larger than in any reproduction. This is the one I spent longest with.

Rene Magritte - "The Portrait" (1935), not one of my favourites of his, but possessed of a nice slippery toughness.

Georgia O'Keeffe - "Banana flower" & "Eagle claw and bean necklace" (both 1934), charcoal drawings (rather than paintings) which I need to go back for a proper look at.

Edward Hopper - "Gas" (1940), brilliant. I reckon I saw this one in MoMA a decade ago and it's one of the dozen or so of Hopper's that's always near the surface for me. Much brighter in reality than in pictures.

Mark Rothko - "No 3 / No 13" (1949).

Also, speaking of personal favourites, Olafur Eliasson is also represented through "Ventilator" (1997) in the big ground floor space before the great hall, a fan swinging from the ceiling which I'd like to see in the daytime.

Elsewhere, Dali's "The persistence of memory" (1931), probably the most famous individual piece in the exhibition (?), was both tiny and stunning, while the Pollock, "Number 7, 1950", brought a smile to my face with its liveliness and all its associations.

One issue with the exhibition's approach, which I guess is the nearly unavoidable flipside of its near-comprehensiveness, is that, particularly until it reaches the more contemporary era (say from about the 1970s on), it very much reproduces the canon of modern art, but in this case, it's hard to feel too complain-y about that, and there does seem to be a consciousness of it in the more recent selections.

Also, this reminded me not only of those happy modern art visits in the public galleries of NYC all those years back, but also the NGV's own brilliant Guggenheim winter masterpiece show in 2007 (*), which made such an impression at the time, and which I still think about.

(w/ Alex - my first NGV Friday Night, I think)

Reign of Fire

Kind of dour and drags way too much for a post-apocalyptic film about fighting dragons that stars Matthew McConaughey and Christian Bale (not to mention a James McAvoy-looking young Gerard Butler, plus Doran Martell from Game of Thrones and ... I was pleased with myself for spotting a very young Joffrey!).

Belly - Dove

Considering that Belly's only previous two lps came out in the early 90s and Tanya Donelly's been releasing solo albums on and off since then, it's not all that surprising that this new record sounds more like the latter than the former. Pretty much all the songs are pretty good, though the hooks and choruses have a certain slabbiness rather than the more sinewy excitement of those many great Star and King-era cuts.

Lev Grossman - The Magicians, The Magician King & The Magician's Land

A re-read! A different experience but in some ways also the same.

(last time)

Heathers

Well I guess of course Heathers feels more dated each time I see it (some previous watchings: 2005, 2011), in terms of both the general culture and its significance to me, but it remains as black and savage as ever.

Screening as part of a short 'Winona Forever' run at Howler which also took in Reality Bites, Edward Scissorhands and Mermaids (the last of which I never got to).

(w/ R)

Iron & Wine - Beast Epic

The song I most enjoyed from the concert, "Claim Your Ghost" aka the "killers let go" song, turned out to be on their latest album, so I listened to it; it also has another I remember liking, "Call It Dreaming" aka the "you can have mine" song. The rest of it is nice, some good melodies, some that are less memorable.

"Wonderland" (ACMI)

Mostly I just let this wash over me, clips and accoutrements from the many filmic versions of Alice in Wonderland (and Through the Looking Glass), along with some more immersive or interactive rooms, like the tea party projections.

(w/ Yee Fui)

Richard Flanagan - The Narrow Road to the Deep North

It took a series of things for me to read this: being impressed by Flanagan at the Galle literary festival, hearing The Narrow Road to the Deep North mentioned while I was looking for novels about male friendship, and eventually being lent it by Jen. It's a type of novel that I don't read a lot of - a romance (I don't mind a good one, but they're so rare), a war story (difficult to avoid but not particularly my cup of tea), an account of one man's life (these have to be really good to interest me at all) and, most of all, essentially formally conventional. Yet I found it gripping and quite affecting, and admired the way it achieved its effects, including through its interleaving of different time periods and perspectives, occasional lyrical language, and commitment to actual story-telling, including by knitting everything together by the end (e.g. Darky Gardiner's background) and showing how things end for everyone (e.g. Amy's perspective throughout). High quality.

"Diane Arbus: American Portraits" (Heide)

Second visit.

(first time)

(w/ R)

The Bookshop

Really this movie seemed (and, it turned out, was) so middle-aged that I was up for watching it only because of the trio headlining it, Emily Mortimer, Bill Nighy and Patricia Clarkson, of whom Nighy was the standout though all were good in their accustomed ways (lots of Mortimer making expressions like question marks and Clarkson being politely malign).

(w/ Erandathie)

Doctor Strange

Solid fun, with probably the least offensive psychedelic elements I can remember encountering in a film. Cumberbatch is good in the role, and of course there's Tilda Swinton's feyly playful, all too fallible 'Ancient One'.

Tully

Intense and good; I liked how it brought together the effects/experience of motherhood and Marlo's sense of loss in relation to her youth. The water symbolism ultimately pays off, as does Tully's (for the most part) barely-hinted uncanniness.

(w/ R)

The House of Bernarda Alba (MTC)

There was something powerful below the surface of this one, showing through in flashes; I'd have expected no less from Lorca, and especially having read the first half or so of the text earlier in the year (then I got distracted), and the transposition to rural WA worked. And the production was lively as well as dark, with a few gut punches (Bernadette refusing to open the door to Rosie, Angela dropping to the floor in fear as her mother advances on her) along the way to the inevitable tragedy - I've seen enough of this playwright now to expect blood (literal/figurative) and emotional ruin.

So I don't know why I wasn't more enthused about the play - it was strong across the board (including the performances, which pretty much nailed the difficult line between stylised and naturalistic that was required), it engaged me on a lot of levels ... maybe my hopes and expectations were just too high. Perhaps, too, I would have liked more texture, for it to go on longer and more suffocatingly, which might be a criticism that asks this production to be something it isn't trying to be, but - trying to put my finger on it - the closest I can get to explaining my reservations is that, in patches, it was just a touch thin, especially in the characterisation. Without needing to have it all explained, I wanted to know more about them.

(w/ Cass, Meribah and Stuart)

Cat Power @ Sydney Opera House, Thursday 31 May

This show was a 20th anniversary performance of Moon Pix, which was recorded in Sydney in 1998 and only sinks in deeper for me as the years roll on,[*] done with full band including Mick Turner and Jim White (which made me realise how distinctive and crucial their contributions are), strings x 3, flute and piano. Given that, it's not completely surprising that it was a special concert, but it's still also kind of amazing.

With a couple of exceptions, she stuck close to the recorded versions, and the overlaying of the live singing and the greater texture, warmth and dynamism of the live instrumentation with the intense familiarity of the songs themselves and how she sings them made for a powerful experience, with the more muted (post-"American Flag") first half of the record particularly enriched; "Metal Heart" packed a particular punch. The exceptions were back to back, as the Moon Pix part of the set started its run home: "You May Know Him" reinvented with saxophone as the through-line, building to a full-band triumphant swell, and "Colors and the Kids" fleshed out from the piano and voice recorded version.

An extended exit from the stage, then three songs that were just her at the piano (including "I Don't Blame You") and a few more with the band back on, which I was so pleased included "Good Woman" and "The Greatest", before some heartfelt words about what Moon Pix means to her and how things have changed for her since that time (see also). All through, very very wonderful.

(w/ Hayley)

[*] I called it my seventh favourite album in 2005 and again in 2009, and if anything I reckon it'd be at least a couple of notches higher these days.