The artistry of "The Artist"

On Saturday afternoon I went to the movies to escape the heat.  I didn't really care what I saw, as long as I had the opportunity to enjoy air conditioning for a couple of hours.  I decided to see the black and white silent film called "The Artist".  What a great choice!

With 11 Oscar nominations, I see that the film won in several categories, including Best Picture, Best Actor in a leading role for Jean Dujardin, Best Director for Michael Hazanavicius, Music (Original Score) for Ludovic Bource, and Costume Design for Mark Bridges. These are all very much deserved.

I was a little skeptical at first, wondering whether or not I would enjoy a silent film.  In this day and age!  But those fears were quickly dismissed as I was drawn in to this story of an actor struggling to reinvent himself in the face of huge technological changes in the movie world, that is, the introduction of sound to movie making.

It is also a charming, old-fashioned love story.  The scene where Peppy Miller sneaks into George Valentin's dressing room and flirts with his tail coat hanging on a stand is joyful, playful and imaginative story telling that wins the audience over with its charm. I sat in the audience smiling widely and enjoying the experience of a story being told with no words.  This shouldn't surprise me, as I spend lots of time talking about the three channels of face to face communication, based on Albert Mehrabian's work.  He says that only 7% depends on the actual words said, the rest is made up of visual/body language (55%) and vocal tone (38%).  Of course it's possible to convey meaning, advance a narrative and evoke feeling without hearing the actors speak.

There are also some wonderful metaphors in the film - the nightmare in the film where George Valentin finds himself voiceless, his battle with his own shadow, the confrontation with himself.  It's extraordinary!

Do not be put off by the fact that it's black and white and is silent...it's a great experience.  Worth having even if you're not just there to cool off in the air conditioning.

However, there is one glaring problem.  Uggie the Jack Russell plays George Valentin's dog and steals several scenes.  Where is his recognition?

Yarraville gets down.

Yarraville held its annual festival today.  The streets in the village are closed to cars and there are stages at the four points of the cross roads where music of all kinds is played throughout the day.  Local traders bring their wares onto the street and you can't walk a metre without coming across someone you know.

One of the main events of the day is the Pet Parade.  I made a special effort to be in the right place for the parade this year and could not believe what I was seeing.  There were dogs everywhere, often dressed in clothes to match their owner's outfit.  Yes, that is correct, the dogs and owners were in matching outfits. The first pair I saw parade were two girls, one dressed as a lady bird and one dressed as a bee, leading their small dogs dressed as, you guessed it, a lady bird and a bee. Next in line was a dog wearing a grass skirt and Hawaiian lei.  It was called "Hula Dog".  I decided that I had better leave before it started playing the ukulele.

The beginning of the parade was highlighted by the less than wondrous performance of Archie the Wonder Dog.  Archie was a non-compliant Jack Russell (is there any other kind?) who is probably in heavy contract negotiations right now as a result of his failure to perform any kind of trick at all.  He just stood on the stage and looked around really.  I may have seen him do a high-five, but I couldn't be sure.  He seemed to be receiving treats from the owner regardless, so I reckon he must be a pretty smart dog - smarter than the owner anyway.

While I was sitting waiting for the event, I witnessed something very bizarre.  Gus was a very placid and patient dog.  He looked like a Labradoodle.  His owner had two dogs, him and Sal which was some kind of standard looking black dog.  I watched as Gus and Sal were costumed by their owner.  Gus was put into a black dog suit and Sal was put into a grey poodle suit.  The children belonging to the owner were given matching grey dog hats to wear.

The suits were quite ingenious - lots of Velcro and elastic.  As the woman fitted Gus (the dog) into his (dog) suit, Gus stood there with a look on his face that said something along the lines of: "If I stand here still enough she'll be able to quickly get the suit on.  The quicker the suit goes on, the quicker I can get out of this thing.  I can't believe that I have to get dressed in the middle of the street.  I mean, who else is expected to do that?  You'd think I would be afforded the dignity of a dressing room.  Even someone holding up a blanket would be better than this.  Oh, that's right Sal, run away.  I reckon you've got the right idea.  I look ridiculous.  I hope I don't run into anyone I know. "

"At least no one can recognise me in this get up."
(c) divacultura 2012

After realising that the dogs were all obscured on stage by the fold back speakers, I decided that I'd seen enough.  I wandered around the rest of the festival.

As the day wore on, the kids were more sugared up on fairy floss and ice cream and the parents were sick to death of trying to manoeuvre their semi-trailer sized prams through the throng of people.  I caught some interesting snippets of conversation:

"Stop asking me for things!" This was a mother to a child who had obviously been doing nothing but asking for things.  The child looked to be about 5 years old.  It was unclear whether the instruction pertained only to the confines of the festival or applied for the term of his natural life.

"No Jason, you are not going on a ride until you've eaten all your ice cream!" The mother who said this looked normal enough.  Just looking at her, I wouldn't have thought she was some strange vomit fetishist who fills her children full of ice cream before attaching them to machinery which would spin them around at very high speeds.  Any appeal that side show alley may have held, quickly diminished.  I didn't fancy being covered in vomit, even if it was mint-choc chip.

As I walked by the kids' stage, a band of kids looked like they were about to start playing.  They looked to be about 10 - 12 years old and comprised a bass player (also the front man), guitarist, key board player, drummer and brass section with two saxophones and a trumpet.  They looked pretty good up there and I waited for them to play.  It took the sound guy about twenty minutes to get everyone plugged in and ready to go.  Suddenly they started playing the "Peter Gunn" theme.  They were pretty tight and were in tune which is a great start.  Then everyone would stop playing for a couple of bars of improvisation from various instruments. You really can't believe how much the whole rhythmic structure of a piece can completely fall apart in the space of four bars until you hear it happen.  The drummer would count them back in and they'd play again as a tight unit.  When they started playing and singing other contemporary pop songs, I decided it was time to go.

The pop up park got a work out and the astro turf is looking less than stellar.  I caught a couple of bands which I really enjoyed: The Junes were rocking in the IGA carpark and The Mercurials were a great way to finish the day outside the video shop.  Earlier in the day I had caught a little bit of  Rebecca Bernard and Amanda Testro.  They called for a volunteer from the crowd to turn pages for their final song.  A small girl clambered on stage.  She did her best, but it can be hard to wrangle several pieces of A4 paper in a high wind.  There was a pause of about 2 and a half minutes between pages.

That sums up the vibe: friendly, comfy and a little bit daggy.  Love it!

Time sprints on.

I turned the calendar over from January to February today.  It seemed too soon to do it yesterday.  I couldn't believe that one month of the year was gone already.  Every year, it's the same thing - how time flies.

Why does it feel like this, I wonder, given the actual pace of time according to our manufactured systems for measuring and counting time is fixed?  It is true that we refer to the days in winter as being "shorter" than summer days.  What we really mean is that the period of daylight is shorter because of our orbit around the sun.  A day is still a full 24 hours long and these hours are still comprised of 60 minutes, with each minute being made up of 60 seconds.  I'm not sure what comes next in the line of division, but you get the idea.

So it is our perception of time that changes, not time itself.

Having spent three weeks relaxing on holidays with no deadlines and no requirements being placed on me by others, I was not aware of time.  It didn't seem to be passing quickly or slowly.  The days were just what they were.  Almost from the moment I arrived back in the city though, I started to feel the sense of "time flying" again.  I think I've realised why.

My mindset is completely different when I'm on holidays.  I am living more in the present moment and less focussed on what is happening tomorrow or next week, or even "next".  When I'm back in work mode in the city, I have to have a plan for most days.  I'm needed to be places with people, or I need to prepare to be somewhere with people.  This is an even bigger focus now that I'm self-employed - I have to have a future focus to make sure I have enough work and enough clients to earn money.

The lesson for me seems to be to find a way to stay in the present, or at least spend some time each day being consciously in the present.  Otherwise, I'll be turning the calendar over to December tomorrow.

One of the things that helps when I'm on holidays with my family is to go for a walk with Alfie, the Jack Russell (you met him here).  Alfie is completely in the present.  He happily runs along and then his nose will pick up a scent and he'll follow that for a while, then there will be a puddle which is worth inspecting and then a hare will run past and Alfie will be off.  It's instructive to watch.  He works without a plan or an agenda.

There used to be three dogs to walk - Alfie, a Kelpie and a Labrador.  This sense of being in the moment was even greater when there were three of them to watch.  They seemed to be playful and curious and just happy to be in each other's company, walking along in the afternoon sunshine, enjoying the moment.  This seems like a good thing to do.

Is time flying for you? What do you do to slow it down?

What the dog saw

"What happened to you?" the middle aged Italian woman asked, showing grave concern on her face.  She was asking another woman of similar age.  I could only see the back of the woman being asked, but I gather she was pretty banged up.

"Fell over the dog," she replied.

"Oh it's easy to do isn't it?"

"Oh so easy.  Yes, very easy.  Falling over the dog."

"Yes, falling over the dog.  You've got to be careful....you can't be too careful."

"Oh I know.  Can't be too careful.  And the dog."

Of course, now I was really curious about the fate of the dog.

What kind of dog was it?  Or should I say "is" it? If it was a chihuahua and she fell on the dog, the past tense may well be appropriate.  But wouldn't falling over a chihuahua be akin to falling over a blade of grass, a speck of dust, a stray hair?  It's a completely different scenario if the dog in question was a Great Dane.  I mean, there is something to fall over, but it would be hard to fail to notice the dog leaning there.  Go round!  Unless she is blind.  I hope it wasn't the guide dog! Oh no!

I love these snippets of conversation.  I love listening to the way people actually talk.  They talk like this in a mundane, ordinary way, full of non sequiturs, unfinished thoughts, words unsaid because they are already understood.

I wondered what the dog would say about the situation.

"Rex! What happened to you?"

"My human is an idiot. Got all excited. running around like a maniac.  Stood on me."

"God, those humans. You never know, you never know."

"I know.  She wouldn't listen to me when I told her to watch where she was going.  Now look at me."

"Still...you know...oh dear...what...", shakes head.

"I know. You never know."

"Well take care Rex."

"Yeah."

Reflections on my summer holiday

I know I only arrived home yesterday, but I've been thinking....

Seeing the indentation of paws and a big, flat, warm spot where Alfie had snuck in to nap on my bed.  I only ever saw the evidence, not the actual dog.

A koala balanced up the top of a telephone pole...still as a statue and still there on our way back hours later.

Take: one sheet of black builder's plastic, some fence posts, a garden hose, two strong fathers and some willing kids.  You get: hours of squealing children hurtling down a very mild slope, laughing their heads off as they beg, "faster! higher! more!"

The joy of finding a baby willie wagtail and holding it.  The tears later, when the dogs got it.  Explaining to the sobbing niece that the dogs aren't bad, they're just doing what comes naturally.

The discovery of what happens when a large puppy sees a large three year old running away...plaything!  The further discovery of how hard it is to get a three year old (boy) to stand still.

Seeing a huge orange moon slowly rise on the horizon.

Being able to see the stars at night.

The image of tiny children sitting on very big horses.  Hearing a tiny five year old's voice issuing the command "BACK" and seeing the horse step backwards.  Seeing the look of satisfaction on her face when that one step is taken.

Sleeping past 9am nearly every day.  I haven't done that since I was a teenager.

Finishing a book every couple of days.

Having family around.

Having Alfie around.

(c) divacultura 2012

Trying to get Alfie to look at the camera.

(c) divacultura 2012

Never going to happen.