Summer of Teenaged Angst

A few weeks ago, I bought a summer "smash pass" from the Little Theatre. It cost all of $20 and entitled me to admission to six different films: It's All Gone Peter Tong, Rize, Kontroll, The Aristocrats, Never Been Thawed, and My Summer of Love. Last night, I rushed out of the house just in time to catch the final showing of Summer of Love. I'd made the last-minute decision to see the film in spite of the blasé trailer and unimaginative title, both of which suggested it would be another hackneyed rendering of teenaged romantic angst. I should have known better than to resist Love given how much I'd enjoyed Pawel Pawlikowski’s previous film, Last Resort. Maybe I feared it would be like the oh-so-disappointing experience of viewing Todd Solondz's Palindromes.

In Summer, Mona feels utterly disconnected from everyone, including her born-again brother, until she meets Tamsin, a wealthy neighbourhood girl who's recently been expelled from boarding school. Both girls are frustrated with their lives and eager for an experience that will cut through their boredom. Tamsin and Mona develop a kind of intuitive sympathy that seems almost common among teenaged girls and their friendship quickly evolves into a volatile blend of emotional and physical intimacy. As Tamsin's castle-like home becomes their own impenetrable never-never land, the girls' manipulation of each other, and Mona's brother, suggest this sweet love-story will take some dark turns. Although the plot is certainly modest, even predictable, Summer creates a mood that sticks to you like wet cotton, and presents a relationship with some of the hypnotizing vacuousness that made Kit and Holly, of Terrence Malick's Badlands, so hauntingly watchable. Unlike Badlands, however, Summer of Love leaves many unanswered questions about the long-term consequences of this relationship.

Archival Findings

I've been neglecting my blog for over a week now and I thought it was about time to offer an explanation. In fact, there are three projects that have been interfering with my ability to do much of anything besides work.

Excuse One: I've been teaching a rather intensive three-week summer course for incoming freshman that's designed to help "at risk" students be adequately prepared for the demands of college courses. The course is now half finished and it's going well so far. I'm about to sit down and respond to the draft of their first paper--a two-page response to Jonathan L. Friedman's essay on globalization, "It's a Flat World." It's intensely interesting to read what they think of his rather inflammatory theory about how globalization is both making it easier for once-poorer nations to compete in this technologically driven world, and threatening America's position of economic prominence.

Excuse Two: I recently submitted my drafts of four entries for the Silent Film Sourcebook. I wrote entries for Dot Farley, Flora Finch, Agnes Christine Johnson, and Julia Crawford Ivers. The first two women were most well-known for their slapstick acting in comedy shorts during the teens and early twenties, though they also directed and/or wrote for the cinema; the second two are most often described as screenwriters, though both also directed and/or produced their own films as well. In the process of culling information from fan magazines and historical newspapers databases, I discovered some rather interesting things about these "pioneers" of early cinema. The work on Johnson, in particular, produced some surprising results. Because she was originally credited under the name of Johnston, many of her films have not been credited to her. By searching through the newspaper articles, and performing more expansive searches in the databases that accounted for variations in spelling her name, I discovered she wrote twice as many films as most film historian seemed to think. This also means that some of her early work still exists in archives. I also discovered some titles that Dot Farley wrote and starred in, including "The Near Capture of Jesse James," a 1915 film that had not yet been credited to the film star. In any case, the work has been exciting and rewarding. It's helped remind me of why I love what I do and want to keep plugging along at the dissertation, no matter how frustrating it can be--or how dismal my job prospects may look!

Excuse Three: I'm trying to complete revisions on my Ginger Snaps article, which is going pretty well so far. I'm trying to incorporate more information on the folklore of menstruation and feminist folklore in order to make the essay a better fit for the anthology. The editors really liked the essay but felt, rightly so, that the folklore content lessened toward the end of the paper. That second revision must be submitted by August 1, so I have my work cut out for me.
Ok. Back to marking papers. 3 down, 5 more to go.

Why am I me, and not you?

Last night, I went to see Wim Wenders' Wings of Desire at the Dryden, the theatre at the George Eastman House . It had been over ten years since I first saw Wenders' film on the big screen, and at least six since I'd watched some lousy VHS copy of it at a friend's house. So, enough time had passed for it to seem new to me. Then again, nothing can compare to the first viewing of a film you really love, nothing can bring you back to that naive sense of awe. My first encounter with Wings of Desire occurred when I was in college, a sophomore, when my eyes were still wide open enough to allow me to frequently experience art, literature and film as "life-changing" experiences. I saw Desire for a class, one that also introduced me to the likes of Bergman, Bunuel, Godard, Deren, Jarman. I was immediately entranced by the film's haunting, mostly monochromatic imagery, its black undercurrent of dissatisfaction and angst, its meditative qualities, its subtle spirituality and persistent, sentimental faith in humanity. Watching it at 19, I was like the poetic child Damiel longs to become; it felt like I was seeing the world in colour for the first time. This time around, however, I had to actively try to be like Damiel, to say "ah" and "oh," rather than "yes" and "amen." Although I still find its beauty uterely entrancing, I can''t help but fall short of the mark; experience has left me less wide-eyed, made the colours seem a bit less vivid. On the other hand, my recent trip to Berlin added a new hue to my understanding of the film. Having seen some of Berlin's streets, read about its history while standing next to its monuments, I can now engage with Wings of Desire as a "haunting documentary" of the city itself, a phrase I'd often seen used to describe the film but one I had not fully undestood, until tonight.

Visiting Berlin

June 15-17, 2005: After our trip to La Palma, we flew to Berlin where we stayed for three nights and four days. Although our time in Berlin was short (everyone assured me it would take weeks to really see Berlin), we managed to see many of the city's landmarks, eat some fine food, drink more than our fair share of Berliner Weiße, and even catch a play. Not bad for a first visit.

While in Berlin, we stayed at this fabulous apartment that Fred discovered on the internet. It had lots of space, a terrific view, and a prime location right off Alexanderplatz. As you can see by this interior shot, it also serves as a great advertisement for IKEA!

This shot shows one of the spectacular views from our apartment window. Here you can see Berlin's oldest church, the Nikolaikirche, which was built in 1230.

We went on several impromptu walking tours, visiting many of the city's most well-known sites--the Berliner Dom, the Brandenburg Gate, the Pergamon, and the Reichstag to name a few. Behind the Brandenburg Gate, they have constructed a huge mural that shows what the gate looked like just after the war.

Fred took this great photograph of an anonymous woman bicycling in front of the mural. I love the photo because she looks like she belongs in the original scene, sort of like she road her bike through a time warp that transported her from Berlin circa 1945, to the modern city, 2005.

In order to see the Reichstag, we stood in line for about an hour, baking under a very hot sun. Although the heat was uncomfortable and our clothing choices only exacerbated the problem (Jeans and dark t-shirts. What were we thinking?), it was worth the wait to visit this historic building. This former head quarters of the German Parliament was built in 1894 and is now home to the Bundestag, the lower Parliament. In 1918 the German Republic was announced from its balcony. The building is perhaps most well-known as the centre of Hitler's dictatorship from 1933.

Here's Aviva inside the Reichstag's dome. The original dome was demolished during the war and the reconstructed one is fabricated almost entirely of glass, affording an amazing 360 degree view of the city. Before the building was reconstructed, it was "wrapped" by Christo and Jeanne-Claude, the artists who recently installed "The Gates" in New York's Central Park.

We also visited the Kaiser-Wilhelm Gedächniskirche in the western part of Berlin. The church was severely damaged during the many bombing attacks on the city and the ruins of the spire were left as a kind of memorial to World War II. There are also many vendors around the church and it's an excellent place to get french fries with curried katsup and currywurst. Though I didn't eat the wurst, I did love the french fries--Aviva let me sneak a few of hers!

After visiting the church, we went to one of Berlin's most famous department stores--Ka De We. It is this amazing, multi-story building that sells the latest designer clothing, handbags, home furnishings, etc. While all of that is rather impressive, I was enamored with the sixth floor, which is dedicated entirely to gourmet foods--cheeses, chocolates, seafood, meats, candies, fruits and vegetables. We bought about five different kinds of chocolate, assorted candies, and marzipan. In fact, I think everything we purchased was edible.

And, of course, we had to pay a visit to Checkpoint Charlie, the third Allied checkpoint through which tourists from abroad, diplomats and Western military personnel were allowed to enter East Berlin.

Nearby there is a famous sign that is written in English, Russian, French and German that warns--'You are now leaving the American sector'. Here I am, playing tourist, standing in front of the sign. I couldn't resist buying myself a little red t-shirt with this statement on it. Somehow the political climate in the United States, and my Canadian citizenship, add new irony to the statement.

I also took a picture of the soldier whose job it is to pose with tourists. I seemed to have caught him off guard. Is he in the midst of a little jig? Or is he kicking the sandbags in disgust?

One night, after a day of site-seeing and shopping, we went for pizza and Berliner Weiße. It's a light, slightly acidic beer to which they add one of two kinds of syrup--Göbber Waldmeister (Woodruff ) or Göbber Himbeer (Raspberry). Believe it or not, you also drink it with a straw. Although I was a little skeptical at first, I loved the stuff. Unfortunately, it's not easy to find outside of Berlin.

On our final day in Berlin, we went to see a play called Ristorante Immortale performed by Schon & Gut. It was this really fun pantomime that depicted a family's attempt to start their own restaurant. Unfortunately, no patrons ever grace the door of the restaurant and the frustration created by their failed enterprise inspires daydreams, musings, and arguments that are both hilarious and tragic. It was a lot of fun and because there was no dialogue, I didn't have to rely on anyone to translate for me!

While we were trying to find the venue for our play, we explored the area around the theatre, a one-time art installation called the Spree Bridge Bathing Ship, constructed by the Berlin artist Susanne Lorenz and the Spanish architects Artengo-Menis-Pastrana. The piece consists of a swimming pool and two wooden plateaus floating in the Spree.

The pool is surrounded by lounge chairs, hammocks, sand, and a bar where you can buy drinks and bathing suits. According to the sign explaining the work, this modern installation "pays homage to when Berlin had 15 such bathing facilities along the river at the turn of the 20th century." Since its original construction in 2004, it's become a very popular hangout that attracts swimmers, dancers, and young Berlin hipsters. Or, slightly confused, somewhat skeptical tourists!

Before the play, we had dinner at this restaurant right along the water's edge called the "Freischwimmer." The numerous bars and restaurants in the area create a rather interesting inner-city escape from Berlin's "concrete jungle." Or a hipster's alternative scene that attempts to combine the best of city and sand. It was so hip that we even saw a woman walking her sheep. Yup. You heard me right. A sheep. It doesn't get much more alternative than that!

Mad Hot Ballroom and Luke-Warm Hiking

So, to celebrate Canada Day, Aviva and I decided to go out for dinner and a movie at Rochester's best spot for seeing new, independent (mostly) flicks--The Little Theatre. Actually, we had already planned the outing when I realized that it was my country's official "birthday." Even so, it seemed like a fine way to celebrate. After eating stuffed peppers and panini at the theatre's cafe, we went to see Mad Hot Ballroom, which we both enjoyed very much. The film showcases a program organized by the American Ballroom Theater, which teaches students in sixty New York elementary schools the steps for several traditional ballroom dances. After ten weeks, they perform dances like the fox trot and the jive in an annual city-wide tournament Although it uses a pretty common documentary narrative thread--struggling group or individual finds the "road to success"--I couldn't help but be taken in by the students' distinctive personalities, their often-humorous commentary, and their plucky spirits. I particularly enjoyed the interviews with the students, which often had little or nothing to do with dancing. They talked about school, violence, drug use, the state of their communities, and relations between girls and boys and these moments are what really made the film for me. Unfortunately, a lot must be left unsaid in this film. For example, the principle of the winning school tells us about how the program has changed some students' behavior in very substantial ways. And yet, we only get the slightest glimpses of these transformations. It's hinted at by the students' impressive dancing abilities, their determination to win, and their commitment to practicing, even during recess. But perhaps those transformations should be no more than subtext. This is, after all, a film about students learning to ballroom dance. The rest is the narrative for some other film, but it's a film I'm dying to see.

Tomorrow, to celebrate July 4th, we're going to Letchworth National Park to hike the "grand canyon of the East." Those are the official New York tourism site's words, not mine. In any case, it is a spectacular place. I bought a guide book today that outlines many hiking trails in Western New York and we're going to use it to choose our route. We've bought a bunch of picnic items so we can pack a tasty lunch to bring along with us. Fargo will, of course, join us. And we'll try to return home in time to fire up the grill for dinner. And if the weather report proves to be true, we'll have warm temperatures in the low 80s with low humidity. Sounds perfect for hiking.