Advice from a Failure

I discovered this inspirational passage while browsing through the December 2006 archives in Sat Purkh's blog. It's so beautiful to contemplate, and so I hope the owner will not mind me reproducing it here.


Advice from a Failure

You do not need to be loved—not at the cost of yourself.
The single relationship that is truly central in a life is a relationship with your self. It is rewarding to find someone you like, but essential to like yourself.
It is quickening to recognize that someone is a good and decent human being, but it is indispensable to view your own self that way.
It is a delight to discover people who are worthy of respect, admiration and love, but it is vital to believe yourself deserving of respect, admiration and love, for you cannot live in someone else.
Of all the people that you will ever know in a lifetime, you are the only one that you will never lose or leave.
To the question of your life, you’re the answer, and to the problems of your life, you’re the solution. –Jo Coudert

Une Vieille Maitresse

On Sunday night, I saw Catherine Breillat's "Une Vieille Maitresse" at BIFF. Jason, still somewhat disturbed by his experience with Inland Empire the weekend before, had certain, understandable reservations about what this, my next choice of film, would be like. This wonderful novel adaptation, set during what is stressed numerously throughout the film, as the "time of Laclos", with its delightful innuendos and erotic dialogue, turned out to be very enjoyable. Afterwards, over cheesecake, we talked about the film and its strengths.

First on the menu was whether Asia had in fact had breast enlargements. Asia's numerous nude scenes, whether arched in ecstasy over the Comte de Marigny or entertwined with him in orgasmic abandon, provided ample opportunities for me to gauge this fact but sadly, I still don't know for sure!

Next, was the delightful mise-en-scene. During the very first scenes, it becomes evident, from the layers and layers of ornamental lace, the glossy silk fabrics, the russling of richly woven skirts, the intermittent crackling in the fireplace, the impressive period furniture, and the opulent dinners - that this is a hedonist's film. It is made for pleasure. The attention to detail is striking.
The absence of non-diegetic music works well as it eliminates distractions and helps to immerse oneself in the reality of the 19th century. Without the non-diegetic sounds, one can become exclusively intimate with the Parisian soirees and the melancholic country manor by the sea.

Every scene, every shot demonstrates such artful composition that I'm wondering whether this would not be France's answer to the likes of Zheng Yimou.
Asia's framing in particular inspires great artistry. There is a scene where Asia sulks in her opera box. A large lace fan covers her face, save her moody eyes. A classic beauty, she is not. But it is difficult not to linger on her for a while, if only to admire the lovely lace on her fingerless, black gloves (which I'm sure will soon cause a fury as a fashion item) and her black hair which is tightly mounted into compact bun and adorned with a dramatic Malagan mantilla and large red flower. One of her dark strands is curled and stamped on her forehead, completing her panoply of seductress.

The third thing up for discussion was the sultry Roxane Mesquida who plays Hermangarde. More specifically, we discussed the director's decision to leave Roxane's eyebrows in a dark brown (black?) color. I can understand that the actress died her hair blonde to better impress upon us the youthful Hermangarde, daughter of proper society, but the contrast between her fair mane and the dark line above her eyes was much too striking. I came to the conclusion that perhaps the purpose of these mismatched eyebrows was to better underline Hermangarde's darker thoughts. Having not read the novel, I am not certain of this fact but it is clear that her character does not turn out to be all innocent and charming as her husband had presumed. There is a final scene where husband and wife are confronting each other and she remains immured in an understandably, cold silence while he begs her to speak. Hermangarde's only reply is a calculated dark browed regard towards him in a manner that all to explicitly conveys her hatred and disgust. I suppose that the scene would have been less dramatic had the said brows been bleached. So that's for the eyebrows.

And now, for the sake of this blog, I would like to go further with Hermangarde's character. Once again, I have not read the novel but it seemed to me that she turned out more hateful than what La Vellini, prided herself to be, in a narcisstic show of her Iberian origins.

To begin, the two female characters are opposed. One is blonde with straight hair. The other has dark, unruly hair. One is considered beautiful, a true jewel of French society, while the other, "an ugly enchantress" from the seedy corners of Spain. One conforms to society while the other overtly defies social norms. One remains shy of physical demonstrations while the other's emotional balance hinges on shared sexual energy. Asia's character, La Vellini is seen by the other characters as an adventuress, her libertine ways clearly matching that of her lover's, Ryno de Marigny.

I believe that the accidental death of Vellini's daughter is central to this story. Firstly, it represents a sort of karmic re-adjustment in that it functioned according to what society's expectations were (and remains) concerning women: that they can not be courtesans as well as good mothers. The two are incompatible. And secondly, it is interesting that the disastrous effect of her child's death on Vellini's emotional balance is in direct proportion to her undying love and adoration for Count Ryno de Marigny.

And now having established that fact, I want to return to Hermangarde who it seemed to me conducted an abortion straight after she clandestinely learnt of her husband's treachery. I had to conclude that this was not a miscarriage: in the scene, she sits upright in her bed and contemplates her bloody thighs as the doctor washes her. Whether this was a planned operation or not, (and once again I have not read the novel) Hermangarde conveys absolutely no emotion and seems totally removed from her dead child. This scene contrasts sharply with Vellini's passionate mourning in the Algerian desert following her daughter's cremation. I felt that this ritually medical scene was necessary to complete the comparison between the two women and to justify Ryno de Marigny's decision to return to his lover. That is, if the symbolic meaning of the dead child can be carried further, then not only is Hermangarde not in the least attached to the fruit of her union, but she does not love Ryno De Marigny, at least not as much as La Vellini.
As a result, it seemed only correct that the film concludes soon after having informed us that Marigny has resumed his 10 year long affair with the Spanish courtesan.

Vellini's triumph marks this picture as one of the few films where the fiesty, independent, female protagonist does not suffer a reversal of fortune nor end up dead or punished by the patriarchal narrative. A pleasure to see. Well done Catherine Breillat!


Watch Asia woo the papparazi at Cannes 2007

Mélissa Theuriau and Jamel Debouzze

Brangelina is so passé.

The couple that has me most inspired right now is French comedian/actor Jamel Debouzze and French journalist Mélissa Theuriau. YES, THE Mélissa Theuriau. You read right.

So guys, you can stop drooling over the gorgeous Mélissa in YouTube: she is taken.
And not by anyone let me tell you.

Considering the combined talent of these two, I'm not sure who to be most jealous of...

Mélissa was recently voted most sexiest women of 2007 by FHM magazine. Only 28 years old and she's got a Master degree in Audiovisual Journalism and several years experience as a reporter on French television. Mélissa now hosts a travel show on French channel M6. Here is her official French website.



And what can I say about Jamel? Eloquent yet shockingly funny, fun yet deep, intelligent, socially perceptive and HOT....I totally admire this guy. Apart from the fact that I can't get anough of his show "100% Debouzze", I have to bow down to someone who let neither his poor childhood in Trappes nor the loss of an arm following a train accident early in his life, get in the way of his spirit.

Hot Men

Here's my self-administered quiz on all things male.

Name your childhood crush.
Part dandy, part free-spirit, part mystery.
So Zorro fits the bill. So does Robin Hood.
Any others? Cartoon characters maybe?
Ah, yes. Mendoza from the Mysterious Cities of Gold. I fell for the well-heeled Catalan with his elegant rapier. I blame it on those sideburns. It's the caped navigator thing.
I also had a fling with Ulysses. But he was too modern... I needed 16th century.

Hmm...what male figures do you enjoy watching today?
Very few. I'm not into symmetry. The cleancut Meditteranean jetsetter in his Armani suit just doesn't do it for me. Neither do the likes of Brad Pitt, Bruce Willis, Tom Cruise, Heath Ledger, Jude Law, Matt Damon, Keanu Reeves (heavens forbid) and all those overdone, over-preened Hollywood icons. Not into bulging biceps either, so Arnie and Stallone are also out. The male cast of Friends is a no go. What were those girls my age thinking? I mean, they're just kids for heaven's sake.

Clive Owen
Who would be in your top ten for male visual pleasure?
Ok, this may not please everyone. Not in any particular order:
Clive Owen - smouldering, raw energy. He is fabulous in "Closer".
Rufus Sewell - loved his character in Amazing Grace. Great eyes.
Gad Elmaleh (left) - you just have to watch this guy in "Priceless", he stole my heart.
Benicio del Toro - intense everywhere he goes.
Jean Reno - when he was a little younger. Love his voice.
Hrithik Roshan - one very hot man

Hrithik Roshan
What does Jason think about your crushes?
heh heh. Depends, Male or female?
No seriously, we're both secure enough to deal with this.

Any favourite male characters?
Easy: Nicolas Cage in City of Angels. This would have to be one of my favourite characters. Soulful.
Also on the list: Djimon Hounsou in Amistad, Nicolas Cage in Conair, Nicolas Cage in Face Off (hmm...seeing a pattern there?), Clive Owen in Closer, Leonardo di Caprio in The Departed (sigh), Edward Norton in the Illusionist (spiritual, enigmatic, intelligent) and a few others that don't spring to mind.
Characters are always more interesting than the actors themselves wouldn't you say?

Who puts you off?
Tom Cruise. Always so angry no matter what role he undertakes.

Not a Johnny Depp fan?
Johnny Depp is a kind of muse for me. He's beautiful, inspirational and very talented but I'm not into him.

John Travolta?
I like him like a dad. He's great, especially in Face Off.

Big Brother 6 question: Jamie or Dino?
Dino by 100%.

Big Brother 7 question: Billie or Zoran?
Zoran. But I prefer Daniela. She had more balls.

Stabbed

I forgot to mention this but the other night, I dreamt that someone, I'm not sure who, stabbed me in the chest (just below the sternum to be exact) with a pair of kraft scissors. I was in my togs swimming when suddenly I looked down to see a pair of spread out handles dangling out of my bleeding torso. I didn't feel pain because the blades were not in too deep. As I extracted the two blades, with my right hand (I'm left handed, but I tend to handle scissors with my right hand, long story) I was very careful not to squeeze the handles together as this would only have brought the blades together within my chest and caused more damage. However much as I tried, I failed in avoiding friction between the blades. When I did finally remove the pair of scissors from my chest, the blood oozed out of two 0.5 inch holes and the skin separating those two holes had been pinched and nearly ripped.

It was fascinating.

I used an online dictionary to decipher this dream by typing the words "scissors" and "stab" in the search box provided. Apparently I am overly suspicious and fear being betrayed. Also recently, an event has caused me to feel that people are 'stabbing me in the back (chest)'. The scissors denote the tendency I have for cutting people out of my life.
Putting the two metaphors together, it would appear that I may be consciously isolating myself from other people out of fear of getting hurt and that it is my suspicious nature that feeds this fear.

Who needs psychology when you have a dream book.

Last Holiday

"Last Holiday", by Wayne Wang. Great heart warming film. Ah, if only to watch Chef Didier (aka Gérard Depardieu) stroll through the snowy morning markets in Karlovy Vary then suddenly lean towards Queen Latifah's right ear so that his prominent nose just about touches her cheek and to listen attentively as he whispers this secret truth in her ear:
"The Secret of life....is BUTTER."

YES! YES! Damn right!
I don't know about you but that was the climax of the film for me.


I had a lovely weekend and met up with a best friend at the James St market. We set in the interior courtyard and had a long D&M for 2.5 hours. I poured out my vices and my woes and she reciprocated. It was a long awaited reunion.


I love the James St market, particularly this kitchenware store called Wheel barrow. They have the most gorgeous cake stands. I love cake stands. I'm all for those suffocating English tea parties. I'd like to abandon myself to a decadent afternoon where we could all indulge in colored iced cakes and other pretty, sweet things that I would load onto my 4-tiered cake stand (which I don't have...yet) until it resembles something from Willie Wonka.
I want, I demand a cake stand for Xmas!!!
And then we could even have cucumber sandwiches. The last time I read about cucumber sandwiches was in Oscar Wilde's "The Importance of Being Earnest".
I mean really, who eats cucumber sandwiches?
But you must, you must. I insist.

The Wheelbarrow. Everything in that store is so gorgeous that I want to be pregnant and baking. I want to have it all: the giant chromed pink toaster, the Laroussse gastronomique, the tiny chocolate colored silicon moulds, the long sorbet spoons, the sundae glasses, the cake stand...everything...
Is that asking for too much?

Saturday dinner saw me and Jason at the Blue Grotto in Rosalie. Nothing fancy but I warmed to their decor, particularly the lattice panels inside. Overall, crappy website but great food. And the serves were excellent, even Jason couldn't finish his meal. I felt as if I were back in that pretty chalet in the Black Forest on that fatal night where we were stuffed like geese by our hostess. We were so STUFFED that we just managed to crawl back in our attic room and slept like babies. Can you imagine being so STUFFED that the only thing you want to do is sleep? My body was so unco digesting all that food that I even dribbled my way to sleep. (That's me at my most glamorous.)
Anyway, Saturday was a little like that. What did it for me was the cheesy potato and leek gratin which melted in my mouth at every bite. I'll probably be coming back to the Blue Grotto.

So that was the last of my holiday before uni begins on Thursday.

Wonder what i'll learn...