Tag: art

  • Werckmeister Harmonies: even more relevant today

    Werckmeister Harmonies: even more relevant today

    This was the first in a series of seven Art House Films with my good friend Bill Crandall. It was also – along with The Secret of Kells the one that had the biggest impact on me.

    It was my introduction to Bela Tarr – master of the long shot – and it was definitely a red pill/blue pill moment. Take the red pill if you want to beat brain rot and see the world for what it is through a series of carefully curated films. Take the blue pill if you want to remain in the comfort zone of rehashed Romantic Comedies and doom scrolling.

    I definitely took the red pill. And boy was I glad.

    Side note: if you don’t know what I’m talking about with red pill and blue pill, you need to watch The Matrix.

    What’s it about

    Much like most of Tarr’s work, this takes place in some rural setting in Hungary. It’s a quiet town with a town square and residents milling about, going through the motions without a sense of purpose, waiting for the arrival of a “circus” comprised of a giant stuffed whale and a false prophet that we never actually see.

    On cue, the residents descend into anarchy, destroying a hospital before the most pitiable scene stops the chaos and they all go back to their purposeless lives.

    Open your eyes

    Our main character Jànos, played by Lars Rudolph, is easily distinguishable by his intellect and deep, penetrative gaze. His eyes literally do most of the talking throughout the film. You see curiosity peak at wonder and then descent into disbelief, horror and – ultimately – total despondency as the film unfolds.

    Curiosity as he explains how the solar system works

    Looking the miracle in the eye with a sense of wonder

    Disbelief that they can’t see it, when it’s right in front of them

    Shock and horror at what unfolds

    Total despondency as he’s institutionalised

    We see the world through Jànos’ eyes. He – like the rest of the residents – is intrigued by the circus’ arrival. But unlike the rest of the residents, he’s more captivated by the giant stuffed whale than this so-called prophet who will supposedly perform some kind of miracle.

    He claims that the whale is the true miracle. And he’s most certainly right.

    A creature of such magnificence

    World, can’t you see?

    The miracle you’ve all been waiting for

    Is right in front of thee.

    Inspired by Jànos

    This reminds me of a little anecdote from my own life.

    Growing up in a staunch Hindu household, I was surrounded by people constantly looking for miracles in the sky. And every now and again, a so-called “prophet” would come into town and charge a lucrative amount to perform some kind of miracle.

    Once, I accompanied my Mum to see one of these prophets. There must have been a thousand people stuffed in the community auditorium where the event took place!

    Our rockstar prophet took to the stage. He wasn’t much to look at: scrawny, bald, long beard. But when he raised his hands, the entire auditorium went silent.

    It turned out this man had an active “third eye” and could see into your future. I watched as he invited the ones with VIP passes to read their fate. It was all the usual bollocks: “yes, yes I see great fortune in your future” (man gambled his family fortune away and now lives on the dole in the UK). “Ah, a great romance awaits you” (divorced twice, lives alone in a small town).

    At some point, I noticed a group of ants moving a bread crumb along on the floor. I stopped listening and just watched this incredible display of teamwork. And even though I was too young then to really grasp what was happening, looking back, I must have been like Jànos in that moment.

    Here was a real life miracle happening right in front of my very eyes. A group of tiny creatures somehow being so coordinated as they move that piece of bread from one place to another. Instead, everybody is so focused on watching this “prophet” (wrongly) predict people’s futures.

    My Mum noticed me not paying attention and elbowed me hard in the ribs. Back to the “prophet” it was.

    The truth is, miracles happen right in front of us every single day. They might not be huge or biblical in any way. But they are still reminders that life is beautiful, that if we open our eyes and just take a look around instead of waiting for some great, big cosmic gesture, we might actually see something real.

    To me, that was the essence of the film. Only one man could really see things for what they were. It seems to be a recurring theme in Tarr’s body of work.

    Take Satantango for instance. A small farming commune waiting for a Messiah to lead them to the promise land, when their own lives are falling apart right in front of their eyes.

    Most people are still waiting on that one miracle to bail them out, when the true miracle is in the day to day, how you live your life, whether you choose to open your eyes, or keep them closed.

    Awakening

    Watching Werckmeister Harmonies sparked something in me. Previously, when I had to go pick my son up from school, I’d rush out of the house, zoom down to campus, get him and zoom back. It was perfunctory, without a sense of purpose or even appreciation.

    After the film, I consciously decided to slow things down. Literally and metaphorically. After getting my son, I took a longer, albeit more scenic route back home. I took it down from 70 plus to 40, put on the soundtrack (there are two) from Werckmeister Harmonies, and actually took a moment to see.

    And that’s when I realised there’s so much we take for granted every single day. The two gardeners sharing a mandazi, donut, having tea in chipped mugs and laughing as they lounged on a grassy bank in the Sun. A lady, probably in her seventies, heaving a large basket of provisions to sell as she made her way slowly up the road. A family of monkeys going across the road, overhead on a wire, the baby hanging upside down, clinging on to its mother’s belly.

    By the time I got home, I felt so enriched, so fulfilled, it was as though I’d taken my first breath in a long, long time.

    Cinematic bliss

    The themes and narrative aside, Tarr’s filmmaking prowess lies in the quality of the shot. Each frame feels like a moving black and white photograph and he uses chiaroscuro to really bring out the meaningful elements in every frame.

    It was also the first time that I actually lived in the film. For example when Jànos and the pianist are walking down a road. And they’re just walking and walking and you’re walking with them for four and a half minutes of screen time. Another feature of Bela Tarr’s filmmaking. He lets scenes breathe and as a result, you actually get to breathe as well.

    All in all, Werckmeister Harmonies is more relevant today than ever before. It takes one nudge to storm the Capitol or to unleash racist abuse on the internet targeted at black footballers.

    And when people don’t see, they look to the sky (or their screens) hoping to find an answer, when the answer they’re looking for is actually right in front of them.

  • John Carney: or how I learned to stop worrying and love art

    John Carney: or how I learned to stop worrying and love art

    The first time I consciously became aware of John Carney’s films was in 2016 with his indie hit Sing Street. And then I realised I’d already experienced another of his hits three years prior; Begin Again starring Mark Ruffalo and Keira Knightly. More recently I caught Flora and Son on Apple TV.

    There seems to be a recurring theme across all his films: even in the darkest of times, when all hope seems to be lost, from the pits of despair, art can well and truly save the world.

    Warning: if you haven’t seen any of these films, this post may contain spoilers.

    Just fucking do it

    The last line in Flora and Son literally is “you’re fuckin’ shite” in reference to Flora’s (played by Bono’s daughter, Eve Hewson) open mic performance. And on some level, she probably already knew that it was going to be shite.

    But that didn’t stop her. Teaming up with her talented producer son, she put together a banger that may just have been a little ahead of its time. But it wasn’t the song that had an impact. It was the timing.

    Flora, just like Conor Lawlor in Sing Street, has nothing to live for. She has a crappy relationship with her son, separated from her husband and has to wipe bums (literally) as a child minder for a living.

    Similarly, Conor has been demoted to public school, doesn’t own a pair of black shoes, his parents are getting divorced and, to top it all, he gets on the wrong side of the class bully.

    Both films have two things in common: 1) Jack Reynor and 2) the “victims” turn to art (music) as a way out of their miserable state of affairs.

    And that’s exactly what’s needed now more than ever.

    How art can save lives

    I want to add Greta from Begin Again, played by Keira Knightly, into the mix. Overshadowed by her sexy rockstar boyfriend (I see you Adam Levine), Greta decides to take matters into her own hands and, with the help of a burned-out record executive, Dan (pre-hulk Mark Ruffalo), she finds her voice, her confidence and grit to step out of her ex-boyfriend’s shadow. Only thing missing in Begin Again is Jack Reynor.

    The three instances I’ve highlighted are a reflection of what happens every single day. Somewhere, somehow, there’s a person sitting on the next great American novel, a killer musical composition or even a screenplay waiting to be green lit by Hollywood’s finest.

    But most people don’t… act. They sit in fear of being judged and allow the passages of time to wash their creativity away, until one day they wake up on their death beds and realise their entire life has been pointless.

    So if you have a gift, whether that’s painting, writing, music or something else, wake up. Wake the fuck up.

    The world needs you and your art. And it needs it now.

    How Bill Crandall and Film Club saved my life

    I once aspired to be a novelist. In my twenties, I actually spent one summer writing day and night and came up with a couple of half-decent manuscripts.

    A few years after that I took a sabbatical to focus on two more novels, both of which I managed to complete and circulate to literary agents for representation.

    And then COVID hit, the publishing industry was turned upside down and I didn’t hear back from any of the agents who had requested my manuscripts.

    I lost hope. I turned to other endeavours as a way out (mainly becoming a copywriting hack) and told myself that it’s okay. That the world didn’t need me or my art. That I would do just fine without it.

    And then a few weeks back I met Bill Crandall at a party. We started talking about films and by the end of the night, agreed to meet up once a week for a showing at his house. There’s a separate post dedicated to this experience here.

    What I wanted to say was that through a series of art house films – and Bill’s encouragement – my wobbling hand finally picked the pen up again. I started this blog, blew the dust off my shelved novels and just started flexing my previously atrophied creative muscles again. And let me tell you: it feels fucking good.

    It doesn’t matter if it’s “good” or not

    Coming back to that last line in Flora and Son, (“you’re fuckin’ shite”) one thing I’ve learned is that it doesn’t matter what somebody else thinks about your art. If you enjoy doing it, like really enjoy, everything else will fall into place.

    Another scene that perfectly captures this sentiment is in Sing Street when Conor stands up to the bully and says, “you only have the power to stop things, but not to create” and that shit hits hard.

    Destructive forces are at hand. We have “AI creators” now and Elon Musk thinks Grok can make a better version of Nolan’s Odyssey (as if). It’s up to us now to take a stand.

    Let John Carney’s characters do the talking

    For when you fear being mocked:

    “Rock and roll is a risk. You risk being ridiculed” – Brendan to his brother, Conor

    For when you think you need to know how to do everything 100% right:

    “Did the Sex Pistols know how to play? You don’t need to know how to play. Who are you, Steely Dan? You need to learn how NOT to play, Conor. That’s the trick. That’s rock and roll. And THAT… takes practice.” Brendan again.

    If you feel like life is “meh”:

    “One of the most banal scenes is suddenly invested with so much meaning! All these banalities – They’re suddenly turned into these… these beautiful, effervescent pearls. From Music.” – Dan (Mark Ruffalo) in Begin Again

    And then this exchange between Dan and Greta in Begin Again perfectly captures the quintessence of John Carney and how art can change lives:

    Dave: But we’re just gonna have to find a way to get through this, get through this together.

    Greta: When did you, like, when did you realize that?

    Dave: When you sang to me on my voice mail. I realized that nobody on Earth in their right mind would ever do anything remotely like that, and… that killed me. That crushed me. You… completely won me over.

    Greta: You know, I wasn’t actually trying to win you over. I was trying to tell you to fuck off.

    Bottom line

    Here it is: tune up that guitar, fill up that pen, dust off that typewriter, and then – immerse. Immerse. Immerse. If not for you then for the world.

    <Odyssey

  • Precipice

    I’m sat on the edge of a precipice

    Two months shy of thirty-six

    Where have the last thirty-five gone

    Will there be sixty-five more, my son?

    At ten I dreamed of dead poets

    Twice that I read thrice the stoics

    Then on the stroke of the big three oh

    I stood and let my shackles go.

    Now the hand holding the pen

    Is withered and worn, what then?

    The lyrical passages of time draw nigh

    My pen tip bends, leaks ink as I cry.

    Now here the lad he’s just turned three

    To my mind he’s utterly free

    No shackles will bind his legs henceforth

    His every question will find its true north.

    For while there is life in me still

    Nowt shall hamper my iron will

    My pen will write again with flowing ink

    To bring books back from the brink.

    <Metamorphosis

    Boy Wonder>