Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Arcade Fire oder Talking Heads

... das ist hier die Frage. Aber Cheyenne, ein gealterter Rockstar, weiß es besser als der kleine dicke Junge aus Huntsville in Tennessee. "This must be the place" ist eindeutig von den Talking Heads. David Byrne höchstpersönlich tritt im Film den Beweis an und kredenzt dem Zuschauer nicht nur eben diesen Song, sondern dazu eine grandiose Bühnenshow!

Eine von vielen schönen Szenen aus dem gleichnamigen Film "Cheyenne - This Must Be the Place", in der ein großartiger Sean Penn den völlig - und hier passt eigentlich nur die treffende englische Bezeichnung - drug fucked Cheyenne spielt, der irgendwo in der Vergangenheit stecken geblieben ist und sein Dasein als wandelndes Kuriositätenkabinett fristet. Alles an dieser Figur ist völlig überzogen und scheint trotzdem unglaublich echt: die mit Schminke übermalten Falten, der komplett unterbelichtet wirkende Blick, der ungelenke Gang wie auf Eiern, die piepsig getragene Stimme und die anstrengende Langsamkeit, mit der Cheyenne durchs Leben kriecht. Bereits zu Anfang des Films fragt man sich, wie lange Sean Penn für diesen Gesichtsausdruck aus einer Mischung von Traurigkeit, Naivität und einer großen Portion Verlebtheit vor dem Spiegel üben musste. Auf jeden Fall ist er überzeugend. Wie ein Außerirdischer lässt Penn seine Figur, stets mit einem Rollkoffer ausgerüstet, durch die Shopping Mall, den Flughafen und die amerikanische Provinz schleichen, anfänglich auf der Suche nach Ablenkung von seiner trostlosen Existenz als reicher aber gescheiterter Mann, was im Laufe des Films zu einer Art Mission für seinen verstorbenen Vater wird.

Die Geschichte wird mit langsamen und extrem konstruierten Bildern erzählt, ein Umstand, der Fans von Romantic Comedies nicht bekommen wird. Dafür belohnt er die Freunde des Autorenkinos mit tollen Filmbildern, unerwarteter Komik, die oft aus fast beiläufigen Details hervorspringt, und einem Soundtrack, der das Tempo des Films widerspiegelt und es trotzdem in sich hat.

Einzig und allein das Ende der Geschichte wirkt ein wenig gezwungen. Nicht nur, dass Cheyenne letztendlich doch noch mit Rauchen anfängt, um zu signalisieren, dass er eine bemerkenswerte Entwicklung, eine Art verspätetes Coming of Age, durchgemacht hat und nun erwachsen geworden ist. In der allerletzten Szene kommt er dann auch nach seinem Roadtrip durch die Pampa der USA zurück nach Hause in seine irische Wahlheimat, und zwar von nun an ungeschminkt, mit kurzen Haaren und "normalen" Klamotten. Willkommen in der Normalität scheint das heißen zu wollen. Schade.

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Bleibt nur noch zu erwähnen, dass Francis McDermond, die spätestens seit "Fargo" von den Coen Brüdern einen Platz in meiner Hall of Fame der besten Schauspielerinnen inne hat, die Frau spielt, die sich Abend für Abend neben dem kaputten Rockstar abschminkt und in ihrer Freizeit Feuerwehrfrau ist und die die Figur Cheyenne trotz dieser paradoxen Paarung ein wenig mehr in der Wirklichkeit verankert.

Prädikat: empfehlenswert!

Tuesday, November 08, 2011

Beat the ReEper

while 'beat the reaper' by josh bazell is a fantastic read full of black humour, clever suspense and disgusting details of diseases that you rather forget really quickly, the reeperBAHN is not as much fun as many people seem to think. since i've made the transition from a sweet single berliner to a savoury and settled doubledecker hamburger two years ago, i've managed to avoid hanging out "on the kiez" as much as possible. especially on saturday nights. i quickly learned that saturday nights are vile there, crowded with drunk and disgusting youths as well as groups of males on the prowl or whatever guys do to prove their manhood to each other. the latter don't even have to look very far, since there are plenty of professionals around who must be up their noses with some kind of powerful drug to be able to sweet talk all kinds of men in various states of intoxication into letting them do stuff to them for ten or twenty euros. hopefully not more for more... eeek!

a very good friend of mine from oz who came to visit a while ago and of course had to see this famous spot of hamburg pointed out the phonetic proximity of reeper (pronounced in german rayper) and "rape her". i think we were sitting in the sbahn (metro train) back to our house, happy to get there without anyone vomiting on us, insulting us or picking a fight. i must admit i had never made this connection but i've never forgotten it either. it's the first thing that comes to my mind, whenever i read, hear or talk about the reeperbahn. not very pleasant when you think about it. and for some girls this connotation might actually be a bad omen.

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although, have you ever wondered why it's called REEPERbahn? no? well, i can tell you because i wanted to find out why. so reeper refers or rather used to refer to someone who makes ship rope. makes sense since hamburg has always been a major harbour and the reeperbahn used to be crowded with lots of sailors from all around the world. today it's not sailors anymore, however, but lots of tourists and youngsters who love the fact that apparently nothing is a taboo there. drinking till they're almost braindead, pissing against buildings even if it houses a public toilet, vomiting their previously gorged doner or burger onto non-existent garden patches, spilling beer or booze on whoever is unlucky enough to be close by, breaking noses and abusing bystanders, basically behaving as if obnoxious was a synonym for good manners. it's like carnival in cologne or oktoberfest in munich, only every single weekend. i really don't know what made me go there again the other day. it must have been some kind of temporary amnesia or some other mental dysfunction.

so, peeps, do me a favour and if you really must see the reeperbahn in action on a friday or saturday night, do so before maybe 10 p.m., have a walk up and down the so-called pleasure mile with its famous sex shops and clubs, have a look around the große freiheit and the beatles square and if you're a fan don't miss the beatles museum, maybe have a drink in one of the trendy bars if you manage to get some attention to place your order. BUT - and i implore you - if you don't want to witness or even get involved in some really pathetic and depressing display of human behaviour, get back on the metro train in good time and go to altona or walk to the schanzen quarter. it's a 10 minute spatial distance but a difference of about 1,000 years of evolution.

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

action auf irisch - the guard

Darf ich vorstellen: ein beleibter, alternder Provinzbulle in ausgebeulten gräulichen Riesenbaby-Unterhosen. Der erste Eindruck von Gerry Boyle (ein fantastischer Brendan Gleeson!) überzeugt zumindest in der Form, als dass das Klischee eines dümmlichen, nur noch auf die Pension hinarbeitenden Aktenvernichters vom Lande sehr gut zusammen zu passen scheint mit seinem derben Humor und den offenbar mit lauter dummen Vorurteilen bespickten, rassistischen Sprüchen. Dass dieser Eindruck jedoch lediglich an der Oberfläche kratzt, ist spätestens dann klar, als Boyle, abgeklärt und fast gelangweilt, die Leiche eines erschossenen Gangsters untersucht und es sich dabei nicht verkneifen kann, seinen neuen Kollegen aus der Großstadt mit einem würzigen Griff in den Schritt des Toten zu schockieren. Die gekonnt aufgebaute Antipathie des Zuschauers verwandelt sich im Laufe der ersten 10 Minuten allmählich und nahezu ungewollt in eine Art angewiderte Faszination.


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Die Bühne betritt sein vermeintlicher Gegenspieler: Everett (Don Cheadle) - ein junger, durchtrainierter und vor allem farbiger FBI-Agent mit internationalem Renomee, der Boyle anfangs ebenso angewidert und abschätzig begegnet wie das Kinopublikum. Erst nachdem Boyle sich trotz seiner fülligen Körpermasse als zäher Frühsportler outet, fängt Everett an, sich mit dem plump wirkenden Iren näher zu beschäftigen und seine eigenen Vorurteile gegenüber dem Klischee-Landei zu revidieren.

Der Konflikt des Films entsteht dann auch nicht durch den offensichtlichen kulturellen und ethnischen Unterschied der beiden Protagonisten, sondern wird erzeugt durch eine Drogen schmuggelnde Bande, die selbst vor Polizistenmord nicht zurückschreckt, und korrupte Machenschaften auf Seiten der vermeintlichen Gesetzeshüter. Und so wird Boyle in seinem ganzen ordinären, zuweilen gar abstoßenden Glanz zum moralischen Antihelden, der mithilfe des lange ahnungslosen FBI-Agenten, Gangster und Korruption im Alleingang zu Fall zu bringen versucht.

Lange habe ich nicht mehr so viel Spaß gehabt im Kino. Die Bilder und die Geschichte sind unerwartet gelungen und brechen nicht nur mit Klischees sondern auch mit Konventionen. Dabei wirkt der Film nicht überladen mit kreativen Ideen und originellen Kniffen. Im Gegenteil, leise und unaufdringlich wird die Geschichte erzählt. Es sind die kleinen Szenen zwischendurch, die so prall gefüllt sind mit Komik, dass es eine wahre Freude ist. Ich sag nur Schoko-Milchshake.

Für geübte Versteher des irischen Dialekts, sei die Originalfassung empfohlen. Für alle anderen ist die deutsche Fassung trotz allem auch ganz gut gelungen. Ich komm übrigens gern nochmal mit!

Thursday, October 06, 2011

apple, jobs and the hereafter

even on his death bed, steve jobs managed to protect his life's great success story apple from harm. only yesterday did millions of people complain about their disappointment of the new iphone and that it's not again as revolutionary as all the other devices apple has released in the past few years. i wonder what they thought was coming... a sci-fi piece of art with a fluid 3d display, variable in size and appearance, so that your boss might think you're eating a banana instead of chatting to your best friend, and of course embellished with all the luxuries of a futuristic personal allround living and working assistant. not that apple will not be able to invent something like that soon. maybe not right this minute though. the 21st century only just started, folks!
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now that steve jobs, the great visionary of user friendly and cutting-edge computer technology, has died, people have suddenly stopped complaining. instead, they mourn and honour him and all his accomplishments. and so they should! when jobs took over the reign of the ailing apple company, he basically started changing the world. the imac and the powerbook, at the time highly advanced if vastly expensive but definitely worthy pieces of computer technology, made working with a computer an unexpectedly pleasurable experience. over were the days of break downs and losing the last 4 hours of work, over the days of searching for an electronic hiccup in the depths of a hardly comprehensible system, over the days of computer viruses and mundane design. those were his first major successes, paving the way for his renowned ipod, iphone and last but not least his ipad. all of these inventions outsmarted apple's competitors by years, decades even. they're only catching up now because the apple matrix is there for everyone to look at, retrieve the original ideas and start creating similar stuff.
modern civilisation owes steve jobs big time. he might have contributed to an ever more demanding, globalized society that forces people to forget their humanity and become more and more dependent on technology. BUT at the same time, by creating technological devices that are intuitive and easy to use he translated the complex language of computing into a user-friendly and even fun way of working with computers. almost a modern martin luther of the secular world.
thanx, steve! RIP.
ps: i'm writing this on a macbook pro, which took over my old powerbook's job last year. after 5 years! which other laptop would have been able to cope with 5 years of progress in hardware, software and on the web. and it's still doing its work as a retiree on my sister's teacher desk. yes, i love apple, too!

Friday, September 16, 2011

neighbours

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gestern mal wieder bei einer vernissage gewesen und just ein erstes mal erlebt: ivo und ich haben auf einen der vielen rumstehenden nachbarn einen roten punkt kleben lassen. mit rahmen und integrierter spende an die arche in jenfeld
einen platz haben wir auch schon: sozusagen an einem verkehrsknotenpunkt unserer wohnung, wo momentan noch etwas rustikalere deko hängt, die jedoch (zum glück) nicht mehr perfekt ist, da eine Ecke fehlt. (ich bin unschuldig!) der ideale platz also für die engelsflügeliche nachbarschaftlichkeit mit vogel.
und wer wissen will, wie das aussieht, muss uns nur besuchen kommen!
na dann, bis bald!

Monday, July 18, 2011

4 in 1 or what is egg salad made of?

thursday, friday, saturday, sunday make a monday. stirred, not shaken, to avoid confusing the hell out of each day, which went as follows:

thursday: updating, filing, organising stuff, writing emails, counting, making sure. not like. BUT lunch with bud the weiser, frow z und soothie saved my day. thanx 4 that!

friday: making a family tree, last minute of course, branch by branch, twig by twig, leaf by leaf. packing too much stuff and going on a five-hour road trip to my home town. eventually laughing and drinking with the other early arrivalists of the family.

saturday: celebrating my parents' ruby wedding anniversary. 40 years! unbelievable but true. presenting the family tree. joint reminiscing during several activities including conquest of the Dresden town hall tower with a fantastic view of the city, dinner and drinks at a very classy and supposedly "the best" restaurant in town called "Luisenhof", a never-ending and giggly tram ride back and many more classy drinks. somehow making it to bed.

Bildquelle: flickr.com, Offbeat Photography
sunday: hugs and goodbyes to the early departurists, repeatedly expressing the wish to meet more often with the extended family, picking up the pregnantest of pregnant women and taking her to the saxon switzerland with us, kicking ball with 2, 4 and 6 year olds, searching the ball in jungle like shrub, making conversation, sometimes funny, sometimes sad, sometimes uncalled for, kissing pregnant woman and almost there baby in the belly goodbye, making and eating egg salad (made of curious oval thingies that look like this <-), watching a rather suspenseful championship final, drinking more alcohol and being amused by my father and his brother teasing each other. well, my father teasing and my uncle becoming more and more grumpy. what a sight!

and finally monday: going on another 5 hour road trip to meck pomm, making plans, making lists accordingly, re-entering the virtual world of email, fb and blogging. happy egg... uhm... end.

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

wednesday

as part of the 1pptw (Jo's one post per day-week) i've decided to elaborate on the midweek day (in german the day is indeed called midweek - mittwoch).

for over a year now, my wednesdays have been defined by one repeating occurence: swim class. okay, i admit i haven't been to each and every one of them BUT i'm trying and usually i also go to the pool quite a bit by myself. not because i have to but because i WANT to. strange, huh. well, at least to me. not that i don't usually like exercise. for a long time it was an important part of my life. but as soon as you stop working out regurlarly, it becomes a bit of a drag and you have to battle with your very own swine dog (not a very attractive but literal translation of the german word schweinehund, which describes your procrastinating, weak and lazy self).

Bildquelle: flickr.com, Michael Lokner
i remember my attempts at finally starting to work out again, swimming being the only kind of sports that i can do without ruining any more of my bones. gosh, sometimes i hardly managed to swim a couple of lanes without taking a break in between, let alone enjoy it. then, however, i joined a gym (i know...) with a pool and started going to swim class. WOW. what a difference. i quickly learned to swim the crawl properly and by some mysterious miracle i stopped panicking when my head was underwater for a beat too long (i realise that i use the brackets quite a bit but one more time: long story).

so now, i have zen moments while i swim, i can control my breathing so well that i can swim up to ten strokes without needing to breath AND the most important: it is so much FUN! to feel your body, to notice the change in speed and ease, to master the technique. i love it. which in turn means i love wednesdays. yes!

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

make-up or number two of 1pptw

funny stuff, make-up. funny people, too, who make it up. funnier even the people who make it the center of their lives.

i have no idea whatsoever what made me write those words more than a year ago. either i was shocked at seeing someone with a major make-up disorder OR for some reason i started thinking about these two individual words that joint together make up (!) an entirely new word or term.

since i haven't seen anyone lately who looked crazy enough to shock me, i'd like to stick with a philosophical approach to talking about make-up, something i obviously should have done a long time ago. so, what exactly is one making up when using make-up? it's quite obvious to claim that especially women need it to make up another identity for themselves, one without flaws, a painted image of oneself that does not look tired, vulnerable or too ordinary. it seems to become something of an armour or a mask that women often feel they need in an increasingly reckless world, which eats you alive when you admit to having flaws and weaknesses, ordinariness being the worst of them all.

i must say, i agree. when i think back to my grand stand-up performance of a tv presenter who supposedly knows what she's doing, i remember feeling glad that several layers of make-up and whatnot separated me from the image flickering across the screens of the audience. for one thing, it made me look quite different, nothing compared to my normal self, so much that i was sure people would not recognise me if they saw me without make-up. this in turn made it easier to do what i did without feeling too self-conscious, although it never prevented me from being extremely nervous. nevertheless, it did help. whatever i did, i would not have to claim responsibility, at least not in terms of my appearance. a relief that was worth sacrifising an hour of my life to being made up and teased with all kinds of cosmetic gadgets.

having said that, it seems logical to say that the more make-up you use, the more insecure you are. is that so? i kind of like this idea because at least in my everyday life i only ever use mascara. this would mean i'm pretty self-confident, which i guess is mostly true. i also kind of dislike the idea because it would mean that a LOT of women are pretty insecure, especially girls. what about you, ladies? and what do men do to cover up their insecurities? byuing sports cars?