Mad World

I went tonight to the Cinemateca Portuguesa to see a film by Ermanno Olmi “La leggenda del Santo Bevitore”. Olmi was a favorite neorealist filmmaker of mine and I had never seen this film which I assumed would be subtitled in Portuguese. It was not. The film is about redemption, the wheel of fortune, and sacrifice as seen through a bum who is lent 200 Franc with the understanding he would in turn offer it to Santa Teresa during mass which he can never quite make it to because of his early morning drinking habits and a whole cadre of bad influences. Actually the worst influence is the one that keeps turning up throughout the movie played by the midget from “Amelie” and “City of Lost Children”, Dominique Pinon, who oddly enough in this picture didn’t play a midget. This really confused me because, although it seems a non-midget might be able to stretch his method acting prep to portray a midget, a midget can’t really play a non-midget role due to obvious reasons. So either I’ve always been confused, and Pinon was never a midget after all, or he just did a bang-up job of acting like a non-midget. It seems akin to asking a comatose actor to play Hamlet. How does he do it if he is in a coma? I think the answer is probably the Stanislavsky method.

Also, as I told you before I still haven’t received a phone call or a text yet. Well that’s not true anymore since my friend Molly did send me a “What’s grosser than gross” joke through text last night. Well in the theatre I didn’t bother turning my phone off because, well, it seemed ridiculously hopeful to be so haughty and liked as to need to turn my phone off. So when a half hour into the film I got a text and everyone turned around to look at me I severely blushed but didn’t want to disturb the other viewers any further by lighting up my phone and the sound that accompanies turning it off. I mean really what were the odds I would get yet another text before the film ended. I guess after all they were really good because an hour later I got another text. I still did not turn off my phone and luckily that was the last of angry stares due to my phone for the night. One of the texts was an advert I discovered later.

Finally, before I forget I must briefly comment on this David Lynch experience I had this weekend. After seeing Bonny Prince Billy perform for THREE hours on Saturday night I ran into a couple americanas. One was dressed in mall bangs a la small town Midwestern America circa 1984 and head-to-toe outfit to match. I thought this was either brilliant or severely anachronistic. I think I came to conclude the latter after we chatted a bit. Anyway, my flatmates met up with us in Bairro Alto (the main indie bar/ everything bar area) and we wandered for miles to find a bar that was still open past 5. We stumbled into a Fado bar by Restauradores. When we walked in and ordered a couple bottles of wine everything seemed normal except that they were playing Prince in a Fado bar. After are drinks were served the whole room turned red and varied stringed instrumentalists came out of nowhere and our server started singing Fado. The most beautiful I think I’ve heard since Amelia Rodriguez. After three songs the color of the room changed and everything turned back to normal. After about twenty minutes the same thing happened, but this time it was some drunk who walked off the street that started singing in red with these phantom guitarists (they literally just appeared and disappeared- I mean there was like ten people in the bar besides us so its not like I wouldn’t have noticed them before. Well after he finished another guy started up, sang two songs, and then the white colors came back and everyone was ushered out the door. I seriously was not drunk or anything else. It really happened just like that. Seriously.