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[Books . Art . Music . Films]
F: City of God
City of God – Directed by Fernando Meirelles
It actually surprised me to realize that I haven’t posted about City of God already. It possibly represents my favourite films of all-time, building on my life long obsession with Brazil which I fill finally be able to visit at the end of the year. I am sure that this film is not new to many of you, but if you are looking at this post and thinking “Wow, I don’t think I have ever seen that film” then it is time for you to get yourself sorted out and watch it.
City of God follows the story of Rocket growing up amidst the violent gangland conflict that is raging in Rio de Janeiro’s infamous favelas. While Rocket, an amateur photographer, prefers to separate himself from the violence which embroils his home, those around become increasingly engulfed in the drug feuds that rage on. Tensions are at a peak, with Rocket’s friend Bene being the only one to keep the psychopathic, drug kingpin Lil Ze in check.
As all out war begins to break out in the favelas, Rocket is the only able to maintain his life and sanity by using his photography to capture all that is happening around him.
Straight up, this movie has it all. Mixing drugs and violence in Rio’s slums with moments of supreme tenderness and humanity (see above picture), this movie cannot help but make you feel something. I think everyone finds themselves getting attached to Rocket and Bene as they try and juggle life in the favelas with growing up as two Brazilian teenagers. But if the storyline and characters weren’t enough to get you alone, the cinematography is incredible. Meirelles really captures the rawness of the world in which 11.4 million Brazilians struggle to survive.
The issue of drug wars and the favelas in Brazil, and particularly in Rio, are becoming increasingly significant for a country struggling to recast its international image, particularly in the lead up to the World Cup and the Olympic Games.
Leaving best fact for last though, the movie is based on the true story of the main character, Alexander Rodriguez or “Rocket”, as he struggled to grow up in the slums of 1960’s Brazil. If you wanted a look into what it takes to survive in the Brazilian drug wars, you need look no further than Rocket’s story.
Sit back, relax and prepare to have your mind blown:
M: Charles Bradley
Charles Bradley – Soul Brother
I have to admit that when I first heard Charles Bradley’s music, I thought that he must have been a secret relic of the 60’s and 70’s soul and funk movement. In fact, while growing up in the time of some of the greatest soul/funk musicians to grace this planet, Charles Bradley released his first album “No Time For Dreaming” in 2011 on America’s Daptone Records.
His soul churning voice however leaves no doubt in my mind that his musical talent deserves a place amongst the likes of Otis Redding and James Brown. Soul has really been one of those musical genres that has had to grow on me over time. I think that when I was younger, I couldn’t quite figure out why all this grunt and groaning was going on, why there was so much emotion in their voice, or what they were even singing about. But I feel that any kind of musical revelation is better late than never, and the soul revival that I am currently going through is no exception.
It is interesting that it is the very questions provoking my confusion in my early years that has driven my love for Charles Bradley’s music today. The intensity of his voice and lyrics can be lost on no one, and his James Brown-esque howls bring on an eery feeling that add to this intensity.
Perhaps what touches me most about this kind of music is how genuine the emotions feel in each song, unbridled raw feeling that both frightens and excites. I find myself sitting on my lounge listening to this music with a bizarre combination of smile and grimace, eyes scrunched up and arms out in front, trying to replicate the essence of the music that Charles Bradley provides.
His songs “No Time For Dreaming” and “Strictly Reserced For You” give a nice little taste of all the soul and funk that he exemplifies. Indulge yourself and get funky:
B: The Unbearable Lightness of Being
The Unbearable Lightness of Being – Milan Kundera
It may seem strange to write about a book before I have finished reading it, but I think this book merits it. Ever since writing about The Elegance of the Hedgehog, I have been trying to find a book that, for me, matches its grasp of the human condition. I think I have found the very book that I have been looking for, in The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera.
The book traces the stories of a series of lovers, each enveloped by their own fidelities and infidelities, joys and sufferings, as they try and live out their lives. While the book itself is set in the opening days and weeks of the Russian invasion of Czechoslovakia in 1968, Kundera uses this as a backdrop rather than the centrepiece for his novel. His reference to the tyranny and oppression of Communist control is subtle; I only caught glimpses and slivers of it through his portrayal of the characters sentiments and interactions.
Kundera is able to co-mingle his philosophical musings with his character’s psychologies, providing a deeper understanding than expected of how his characters came to be. I felt as though I knew the characters better than myself at some points.
I feel that I cant properly express the full pleasure that reading this book gives me. But perhaps that is part of Kundera’s ploy; he shows us the impossibility of expressing what we truly feel when we are restricted by the limits of the world around us.
The Unbearable Lightness of Being transcends all times and contexts, it can be read anywhere and everywhere, by one and all. Not all books have this universality, but the beauty of Kundera’s prose is something to be shared with all and not restricted to those of the ordained few.
That is why I am writing this now, before I have even finished the book. Start reading now.
F: Memento
Memento, 2000
Directed by Christopher Nolan
Click to watch
In all honesty, I’m quite attracted to things which are a little irregular, this is not limited to objects and possessions, it also includes experiences. When faced with something a little uncomfortable, I try to embrace it. Pain included. Chilies especially.
Memento is an uncomfortable movie, it is untraditional, and utterly unnerving. How’s that for alliteration. It’s a ground hog day thriller, which follows Leonard (the australian Guy Pearce), a man without short-term memory, piecing together the impossible, to try and avenge his raped and murdered wife. One thing is for sure, the movie certainly doesn’t conform to the classical pyramid plot structure, the climax, although evident is irregularly placed, and the audience (which should be you) is as clueless as the protagonist.
In the effort to keep this short, Memento, directed by Christopher Nolan, of Inception, The Prestige, and The Dark Knight Trilogy Fame, is a whodunit masterpiece. A must watch. I don’t want to give anything else away. You’ll understand.
A: Lucian Freud
The most common association with the name “Freud” is that of Sigmund Freud, the Austrian Neurologist who was the pioneer of psychoanalysis, yet in the realms of art, Lucian, his german-born, jewish grandson, ascertains this notoriety.
Born in 1922, fled Germany by ’33, and a British citizen by ’39. The brit Painter was classically trained at various London Schools of Art, along side artists like the dastardly dark, Francis Bacon. In fact, these two headed up a collection of london based artists, forming what could be deemed the original YBA (young british artists).
Known predominantly for his unique and textured nudes, I see Freud as having an uncanny way of glamourising ugliness. His subjects came from all walks of life, and he painted “who” they are, not “what” they were. His painting don’t age, they soften. The thickly impastoed figures are often juxtaposed with absurdity. Take The Naked Man with Rat below, open-leg absurdity indeed. No rhyme or reason, bizarre, but realistic. Unbelievable, but we all know… this did occur.
The Naked Man with Rat, 1977
Lucian’s paintings once made him the most expensive living artist, with his unflatteringly beautiful and robust work seen below, Benefits Supervisor Sleeping.
Benefits Supervisor Sleeping, 1995 Sold for $33.6 million, by Christie’s in New York
He’s also taken figures of the most beautiful woman in the world and made her strangely, unattractive, a pregnant kate moss, the british model,who also sports a tramp stamp tattoo done by Freud himself. I guess that makes him the most expensive tattoo artist in the world, because those two little birdies would be worth a squillion.
All in all, I’m drawn to Freud’s work for it is rawly bizzarre, but technically triumphant.
I like it very much.
B: The Old Man and the Sea
The Old Man and The Sea. Written in Cuba, 1951 published in 1952
I know this may be a little trite, trying to describe a great work of literature by one of the major creative figures of the 20th century, with approximately 200 words, but i’ll try(te). Pardon the in-text-pun. Horrible.
The american writer, Ernest Hemingway, is an enigma, and that’s not a word that should be used lightly. He’s dead, long gone actually, but i am writing about him in present tense, for like most good authors, their books out live them, and this is definitely the case with “The Old Man and The Sea,” for Hemingway is beyond good.
I first read this fabled story when I was in year 8, and even then, 13 year old of me could appeal with the all-consuming struggle between man and beast.
When I reread it last week, from cover to cover in one sitting (not as great a feat as it sounds when you see the page count), his words had the same effect they did almost a decade earlier. The language is poetically simple, its concise yet astonishingly descriptive, as if Hemingway, himself, is narrating the story to you, in his seaside, salt encrusted shack, while you share a tin of sardines by candlelight.
There is no protagonist, there is only a strong vein; nay; artery of respect which flows through the pages of the book. It’s a book of lessons, preaching ever so subtly, and coaxing your subconscious to align itself with the author’s moral compas. Similar to Kahlil Gibran’s book of prose “The Prophet,” yet without the specifics
In short, the story line, although foreign to me, was so inclusive. You become the old man, but his prey as well.
The Old Man and The Sea. It’s a story of the struggle of man, and it is neccessity to read. It didn’t win a Pulitzer Prize and Ernest a Nobel Prize for nothing.
M: Sufjan Stevens
Sufjan Stevens
The Mystic Poet
Contrary to popular belief, Sufjan Stevens is not the son of Cat Stevens (now Yusuf Islam), thus father and son isn’t an ode to Sufjan. Yet the two artists, although generations apart, do share some parallels, for instance, both have used the language of folk rock to hypnotise and steer the ears of their respective audiences to a more mystical and meaningful sound.
In the days of today, anyone with a computer can make music; they can loop a beat, add a melody, and then sing over the top… Knowledge of scores, chords, and time signatures, can be irrelevant to the modern musician, which is successful for some, and works for most. Music can be made by all, and that’s the beauty of it. Whether it is audible or not is a completely different story.
Sufjan Steven, the American from Detroit, creates music which does not lie beneath the aforementioned production methods. He is a multi-instrumentalist, who creates some of the most hypnotic and harrowing sounds of friendship and happiness which have graced my ears. Like many of my favourite musicians, I came acquainted with Sufjan while studying (which he is complements beautifully) but also in moments of self-contemplation.
Most memorably, was a time when I was reminiscing of a past love, and just by chance, Mr Stevens’ track “Now that I’m Older” shuffled on. Everything made sense, the time, my age, my mistakes, and what I was regretting, but now i understood what was going on, the song put it all into perspective… as cliche as that sounds, it’s true, I was better off now, everything happened for a reason.
A good place to start with Sufjan is by obtaining his album The Age of Adz. I think that’s where I began my journey with him, I hope your’s will be as enjoyable.
A couple of favourites
A: Michael Craig-Martin
Michael Craig-Martin in his natural habitat
Many people scoff at conceptual art, and I admit, I am sometimes one of them. It can be contrived and purposeless, kitschy or crass… Critics can love it or hate it, but despite all the opinions surrounding it, conceptual art as a whole, is here to stay.
Michael Craig-Martin is an example of a contemporary artist who’s works, although colorfully kitschy are certainly not crass. His art might be useless, for in the words of Oscar Wilde “all art is,” but it certainly has a purpose.
His most famous work, An Oak Tree, consists of a simple bathroom glass shelf, and a glass of water, half full… that is all.
Yet, by labeling the above-mentioned collection of inanimate objects as an Oak Tree, Craig-Martin is indeed questioning our own reality, in a similar way that Rene Magritte did with his works. By saying that something is something else, can we make it so. Michael, a catholic-raised Irishman, likens ‘An Oak Tree’ to holy communion, when one takes the a piece of bread and a swig of wine, but believes it is the flesh and blood of Christ. Thus his piece plays on the theory of Transubstantiation.
An Oak Tree (1973) click picture to see some critisism
Michael Craig-Martin was a tutor at the Goldsmiths School in England, and was a catalyst and mentor to a generation of English artists, in particular, the super group, the Young British Artists, consisting of the likes of Damien Hirst and Tracy Emin. In his own works, parallels can be seen with an artist of a similar era, a Brit, Patrick Caulfield, as can be seen below.
Interior Night (1971) Patrick Caulfield
Click to see Michael Craig-Martin’s Similar Work
In reference to ‘An Oak Tree’, Hirst said “That piece is, I think, the greatest piece of conceptual sculpture, I still can’t get it out of my head.”
Thus, his influence, is indisputable.
F: Senna
Senna (2010) – Click for trailer
I’m not going to mince words with this one. Senna is probably the greatest documentary that I have ever seen. I have never, I repeat never, been captured by such emotion when watching a documentary.
For those readers that have never heard of Ayrton Senna, he represents the pinnacle of Formula One driving in the late 1980’s and early 1990’s. Brazilian born, Senna made his first F1 debut at the age of 24, and was instantly recognized as a driver with a peculiar quality. Finding wet weather to be his perfect element where others suffered, taking corners faster than others would dare and overtaking at hair-width distances that other drivers would not have dreamed of, to watch Senna race is to watch an unparallelled purity of driving.
It is this purity that the film captures so well. Using only original footage, complimented by interviews from leading racing personalities, the film is able to completely capture the significance of each moment, and leaves little room for the misinterpretation, subjectivity or bias that is often found in such documentaries.
Senna not only reflected his purity and appreciation for heritage in his driving but perhaps most significantly in his love for his country, Brazil. Transitioning from a military dictatorship to civilian government in the mid-80’s, Senna provided inspiration and hope to the people of Brazil at a time when they were most suffering from the effects of poverty, corruption and violence. When you see the faces of the Brazilian people talking about Senna, you can see that it more than simple admiration reflected in their eyes. He represented something good out of a time when people had forgotten what it meant to be proud.
And this is why the documentary cannot help from carrying such a weight of emotion. It is both a story of human accomplishment, national pride and a simple appreciation for the purity of the limits to which humanity can push itself. I will not lie, the film can bring tears to your eyes. It will be difficult to walk away from seeing it and not feel a weight in your stomach. The kind of weight that you have when you know that you have experienced something truly remarkable, when you appreciate a defining moment.
les BAMF 
