Movies that contain scenes about Christmas often seem awkward if we see them at the wrong time of the year. I presume you already know about It’s a Wonderful Life and A Christmas Story, so I have selected twenty other personal favorites to recommend that have something to do with Christmas. Remember, though, they may not be what you would normally call a Christmas movie.

1. Captain Newman, MD (1964) with Gregory Peck and Tony Curtis: This is a comedy-drama about a psycho ward in an Arizona military hospital during World War II. Angie Dickinson agreed to a six-year contract in order to play opposite Gregory Peck in this film. Peck commands the psycho ward and highjacks new intern Curtis to work in his ward. He then coaxes the head of another ward, Dickinson, to transfer to his.

Gregory Peck in the titular role

There are great performances from Eddie Albert as a colonel who has become Mr. Future, Bobby Darin as the lone survivor of his fellow crewmen, and Robert Duvall (in his second big-screen appearance) as an officer who had avoided discovery by the Germans – and avoided the war - by hiding. The scene when Curtis explains to Peck how the ward got its five-foot Christmas tree is a screen treasure. It ends on Christmas Day.

George C. Scott as Ebenezer Scrooge

2. A Christmas Carol (1984) with George C. Scott as Ebenezer Scrooge: This one has been filmed many times, but this version is my favorite thus far. Scott is perfectly cast, but so are the rest of the cast. Roger Rees as Scrooge’s nephew Fred and David Warner as Bob Cratchit add depth to characters who generally get only routine attention. All the ghosts are wonderful with Edward Woodward being the standout as Present. Timeless!

Donnie Melvin and Geraldine Page

3. A Christmas Memory (1966) with Geraldine Page and young Donnie Melvin: Melvin plays Buddy, who is actually Truman Capote; and Capote narrates this personal memoir of his childhood. Buddy’s best friend is a very simple and kind woman (Miss Page in an Emmy winning role) who “is still a child.” Every Christmas the two of them, with their dog Queeny, gather and buy all the ingredients for fruitcakes and mail the cakes to “friends.” They share the house with Buddy’s two aunts, but we only see them on Christmas morning. This one is super special. “It’s fruitcake weather!”

4. The Christmas Tree (1969) with William Holden, Virna Lisi, Bourvil, and young Brook Fuller: The critics hate this one, but I love it. Holden’s son, Fuller, is exposed to radiation from the explosion of a plane carrying a nuclear bomb. While Holden explains to his girlfriend that his son’s condition is incurable, you hear a car crash. When he leaves, you see the commotion of the accident, but Holden, the devastated father, never notices it. Holden tries to make his son’s last days as happy as possible, and he even gets him two wolves as pets. “We’re so lucky: every day is a holiday!” the boy exclaims. If it were only so. It ends on Christmas Eve.

5. A Dog of Flanders (1959) with Theodore Bikel, Donald Crisp, and young David Ladd (son of Alan and former husband of Cheryl): A boy and his grandfather (Crisp – superb as usual) befriend an abused dog; the dog befriends them by helping to pull their milk cart on their daily rounds; an artist, Bikel, befriends the boy, who also wants to become an artist. But what happens when the grandfather dies and the boy must survive on his own? Filmed on location in the Netherlands. It ends on Christmas Day.

6. The Homecoming (1971) with Patricia Neal and Richard Thomas: This inspiration for The Waltons TV series was recognized as an instant classic the moment it first aired. Patricia Neal was still recovering from three strokes and had to be persuaded to take the part of the mother. It’s the Depression Era, and the father has had to find work far from home. It’s Christmas Eve, and his family is waiting for his homecoming. It’s John-Boy, the recipe, and even a ride in a one-horse open sleigh.

7. The Lady and the Tramp (1955) with the voice of Peggy Lee: This is my all-time favorite Disney animated classic. Can a streetwise stray settle down with pampered cocker spaniel? The Tramp treats the Lady to a spaghetti dinner outside an Italian restaurant and the result is pure magic. Disney’s artists beautifully and realistically captured the mannerisms of our canine friends. The songs are also good, especially one sung by Peggy Lee. This special movie begins on one Christmas Day and ends on another.

Vintage Howard Duff as he looked at the time of "A Little Game"

8.  A Little Game (1971) with Ed Nelson, Diane Baker, Katy Jurado, Howard Duff, and young Mark Gruner: A boy (Gruner) brings his best friend (Christopher Shea) home from a military academy for the Christmas holidays. The boy hates his new stepfather (Nelson), and he may have already murdered a classmate back at the academy. The stepfather hires a private detective, superbly played by veteran actor Howard Duff, to investigate. Mark Gruner is excellent as the deranged cadet, who worshipped his sadistic late father and is very possessive of his beautiful mother (Baker). The boy wants his own rifle for Christmas!

9. Little Lord Fauntleroy (1980) with Alec Guinness and young Ricky Schroder: An impoverished New York City youth learns that he is the heir to a British title and estate. He moves into his grandfather’s castle, but his mother must live separately in a distant cottage. The Earl wants nothing to do with her. Things begin to change when another youth claims to be the rightful heir. Look for Patrick Stewart (Star Trek’s Captain Picard) in a small role. It ends on Christmas Day.

Katherine Hepburn and Peter O'Toole

10. The Lion in Winter (1968) with Peter O’Toole, Katherine Hepburn, Timothy Dalton, and Anthony Hopkins:  Henry II is having a Christmas Court and hopes to pick the heir to his British throne. He invites his three sons and even invites his wife, Eleanor of Aquitaine, whom he has kept locked in a tower for years. Miss Hepburn won her second of four Best Actress academy awards for this one, and it may be her finest performance. Anthony Hopkins made his debut in this film as Richard the Lionhearted. Don’t miss a single word or frame of this delicious film. And John Barry’s music is fabulous as well.

11. Mr. Magoo’s Christmas Carol ((1962) with the voice of Jim Backus: The nearly blind Magoo is a great Scrooge! You will be surprised at how faithful this animated version of Dickens’ story is handled. There are some catchy tunes, but the  dark side of Dicken’s England is captured quite successfully.

Julian Ciamaca as Marcel

12. My Mother’s Castle (1991) in French with English subtitles: This is the sequel to the splendid little film My Father’s Glory, which is one of my favorite summer movies and should be seen first. Autobiographical, this movie continues the story of Marcel Pagnol’s wonderful childhood. With young Julian Ciamaca playing Marcel, the film is in good hands. For the Christmas holidays, Marcel’s family decides to return to the hills where they had vacationed the previous summer. They then decide to return on a regular basis and use an illegal shortcut along a canal to make their visits more practical. This one is fun. And beautiful!

Teddy Eccles as Sam

13. My Side of the Mountain (1969) with Theodore Bikel and young Teddy Eccles: One critic described it as “an improbable story of a boy who ran away from home to live on his own in the woods.” Ironically, it is a true story based on the actual experiences of a GIRL! When the girl wrote her book, she changed herself to a boy so that readers would find her adventures more believable. Teddy Eccles plays Sam, the young “Thoreau,” with confidence and maturity. Sam escapes from the city into the mountains of Canada, he creates a home for himself and his pet raccoon inside a dead tree, he captures and trains a peregrine falcon, he makes his own clothes, he goes skinny dipping in his own pond, and he pursues his experiments with the uses of algae. Theodore Bikel shows up as the wandering minstrel Bando in search of local folk songs, and he and the boy hit it off – but the singer has to leave before the first snow falls. It ends on Christmas Day.

14. The Night of the Hunter (1955) with Robert Mitchum, Shelly Winters, Lillian Gish, and young Billy Chapin (pictured): Billy Chapin carries this film, while being surrounded by some of the very best in the business. Chapin and his little sister, possessing money stolen by their late father, are chased by madman Mitchum, but they find refuge with Lillian Gish. This is the only movie ever directed by screen and stage legend Charles Laughton. Incredibly, this beautifully filmed movie was originally panned by the critics, and Laughton swore never to direct another movie. It ends on Christmas Day.

Mary Tyler Moore and Timothy Hutton

15. Ordinary People (1980) with Donald Sutherland, Mary Tyler Moore, Timothy Hutton, and Judd Hirsch: This is Hutton’s film, but his Oscar was for Best Supporting Actor. Ms. Moore’s supporting performance is astounding because we still recall her TV sitcom days; however, she was nominated in the wrong category and lost in the Best Actress competition. This was the first film directed by Robert Redford, and it is pretty near flawless and was awarded the Best Director Oscar. The teenaged Hutton is recovering from a failed suicide attempt. His brother had recently drowned in a boating accident, but he had been able to survive. His mother can seemingly show him no love. His father, superbly played by Sutherland, who amazingly wasn’t even nominated for an Oscar, is aware of the growing problem between his wife and son, but doesn’t know what to do. The son begins to see a psychiatrist, best supporting nominee Hirsch, and finds someone he can talk to. This is no ordinary film. Part of the story takes place during the Christmas season.

John Mills and John Howard Davies

16. The Rocking Horse Winner (1949) with John Mills and young John Howard Davies: A boy (Davies) rides his rocking horse to receive tips on winners at the race track. The hired hand (Mills) places the bets for him. The boy  hopes the money will help keep his troubled family together. Interesting and off-beat. Part of the story occurs during the Christmas season.

Ian Michael Smith and Joseph Mazzello

17. Simon Birch (1998) with Joseph Mazzello, Oliver Platt, Ashley Judd, David Strathairn, and Ian Michael Smith: Young Mazzello plays a boy who is eager to learn who his father is. His best friend is a dwarf named Simon Birch, who believes he has a special destiny. Their church’s Christmas play, with Simon as the baby Jesus, is a riot! Jim Carrey narrates and also makes a cameo appearance at the end.

John Wayne, Harry Carey, Jr., and Pedro Armendariz

18. Three Godfathers (1948) with John Wayne, Harry Carey, Jr., Pedro Armendariz, and Ward Bond: Three bank robbers, being pursued by Ward Bond’s posse, help deliver a baby and promise the dying mother to take care of the newborn infant. It’s one of the Duke’s best, and it’s directed by John Ford! Before you know it, you discover the western you are watching is a Christmas tale.

Leo G. Carroll, Basil Rathbone, and Humphrey Bogart

19. We’re No Angels (1955) with Humphrey Bogart, Peter Ustinov, Aldo Ray, Leo G. Carroll, Basil Rathbone, and Joan Bennett: On Devil’s Island, three escaped convicts (Bogart, Ustinov, and Ray) help out a naïve family, the Ducotels (Carroll and Bennett), at Christmas time against a ruthless relative (Rathbone) who is coming to check the store’s books. The hero turns out to be Adolph. You never see Adolph, but he is Aldo Ray’s pet snake.

Rosemary Clooney and Bing Crosby

20. White Christmas (1954) with Bing Crosby, Danny Kaye, Rosemary Clooney, Vera-Ellen, and Dean Jagger: Two army buddies (Crosby and Kaye) team up after WWII as a singing act. They help out another singing duo, two sisters played by Clooney and Vera-Ellen, and go with them for the sisters’ gig at a Vermont ski resort. The resort happens to be owned by the general they served under and loved during the war (Jagger). Christmas is approaching,  there’s no snow, there are no tourists at the lodge, and the general may lose his resort! Need I say more?

by David Offutt, October 2005 (Re-edited November 2009)

La vérité, c’est que je n’ai pas décidé de le relever, ce défi. En fait, je l’ai fait malgré moi… Surtout, c’était l’occasion de dire quelques mots sur quelques livres, dont je n’ai pas eu l’occasion de parler ici, puisque je les ai lus avant de rouvrir le nid.

Ce défi, initié par Grominou, c’est facile comme tout: un an pour lire six livres, choisis en fonction de leurs titres, qui doivent contenir: une couleur, un animal, une plante, un phénomène météorologique, un lieu, et un prénom.

Quitte à valider le défi a posteriori, j’ai préféré choisir, dans la mesure où la contrainte m’en laissait la possibilité, des livres que j’avais bien aimés (au moins).

La mariée était en NOIR, William Irish

Je suis, il faut le reconnaître, une inconditionnelle de William Irish. J’aime ses romans aux intrigues improbables, emberlificotées, et délicieusement romantiques. Ce sont de curieux mélanges, à la limite du roman sentimental noir – ou du roman noir sentimental, peut-être. Ce roman-ci est un peu différent: amour, meurtre, vengeance… s’il y a un amoureux perdu, et un autre, fasciné, qui en oublie son enquête, le roman s’attache surtout à la mystérieuse et fatale femme en noir qui tue avec tant d’inventivité, et ne laisse pas d’espoir quant à une fin heureuse.

Le LEZARD lubrique de Melancholy Cove, Christopher Moore

Mon premier Christopher Moore, et je ne voudrais pas avoir commencé par un autre: un roman très joyeusement dingue, qui emmêle les genres avec bonheur, et promène la lectrice, hilare, sur les traces d’un catastrophique monstre qui sème la pagaille dans la petite ville (trop?) paisible de Melancholy Cove. Curieusement (mais peut-être pas tant que ça, finalement), le chaos redistribue les cartes, et les pathétiques perdants qui trainaient leur blues en ville y trouvent l’occasion de se lancer dans des défis inattendus.

JEAN de Florette & MANON des sources, Marcel Pagnol

Perdus dans leurs collines écrasées de soleil, des paysans avares, murés dans la loi du silence, regardent un homme, un “étranger” venu du village voisin, mourir à la tâche pour réaliser ses projets grandioses de citadin revenu à la nature. La vraie richesse de ces collines, c’est l’eau: rare, fuyante, convoitée – et celui qui n’en a pas est condamné. D’une vengeance à l’autre, chacun est tour à tour victime et bourreau, et le regard que Pagnol pose sur ses personnages est un miracle d’humanisme: il remonte aux origines, futiles et fatales, d’un drame qui aura mis plusieurs générations à s’accomplir – et peint, sans le moindre manichéisme, des monstres ordinaires impossibles à haïr.

Offert par Victor (merci!), ce dyptique m’a permis de redécouvrir Marcel Pagnol, un écrivain qui, caché derrière ses films et l’accent provençal de ses personnages, fait figure de petite gloire locale et en est copieusement méprisé. C’est fort dommage. L’eau des collines est une véritable tragédie, complexe, tissée de drames emboîtés qui se répondent d’un bout à l’autre de deux livres magnifiquement écrits.

Deuil dans le COTON, Jim Thompson

Un Thompson exceptionnellement positif: j’ai failli en être déçue… Un amour contrarié, le racisme grand teint du sud, un meurtre: tout accuse Tom Carver d’avoir tué le père de sa petite amie. Sauf que ce n’est pas lui le meurtrier. Alors, qui? L’enquête est l’occasion de plonger au coeur sombre et malsain de la société “sudiste”. Un constat écoeuré, qui fait pourtant une jolie concession romantique aux jeunes héros du roman: comme quoi, tout espoir n’est pas perdu.

RAINBOWS End, Vernor Vinge

Une grande plongée en science-fiction… Un poète atteint de la maladie d’Alzheimer se réveille, dans un futur proche, guéri et rajeuni grâce aux fabuleuses avancées de la médecine. Il a l’âge physique de sa petite fille: tout a changé, tout est à apprendre. La plus belle invention (prémonition?) de ce roman est, pour moi, les vêtements très spéciaux qui permettent à ceux qui les portent de se passer de tout autre support informatique. Communiquer, faire une recherche, modifier les paramètres sensoriels de son environnement: tout est littéralement “sous la main”, instantanément. Et puis, au coeur d’une intrigue somme toute classique, se nichent deux perles d’humour qui m’ont littéralement enchantée: un mystérieux lapin qui fait un grand clin d’oeil à Alice, et une réappropriation du monde des bibliothèques maligne et intelligente. Je n’en dis pas plus, je m’en voudrais de gâcher la surprise.

Pêcheur d’ISLANDE, Pierre Loti

Un triangle amoureux pour une histoire pas si simple: un beau marin taciturne; une jeune fille fière et courageuse; la mer, nourricière et fatale. Cette dernière régit la vie des Islandais, ces pêcheurs bretons qui partent pendant des mois au large de l’Islande et, parfois, ne reviennent pas. Et elle régit aussi, comme une rivale qu’on ne peut haïr, la vie des femmes qui restent à quai. Cela faisait longtemps que je voulais relire ce roman, lu très jeune, et dont j’avais gardé un souvenir anecdotique mais frappant. A la relecture, je comprends mieux pourquoi: c’est une suite de tableaux terribles et touchants… Et, si je suis restée un peu en retrait de l’histoire, j’en conserve des images incroyables, que je ne peux rattacher à aucune autre expérience de lecture. Un roman unique, donc.

µµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµ

Ce défi est la version française du challenge “What’s in a name” d’Annie. Elle vient de lancer un deuxième défi, que je vais relever, cette fois.

Ma liste (provisoire, bien sûr):

1. A book with a “profession” in its title.
   Le voleur, Georges Darien

2. A book with a “time of day” in its title.

3. A book with a “relative” in its title.
    La tante Julia et le scribouillard, Mario Vargas Llosa

4. A book with a “body part” in its title 
    Le talon de fer, Jack London

5. A book with a “building” in its title.
    Putain d’usine, Jean-Pierre Levaray

6. A book with a “medical condition” in its title.

Powerful, provocative, and raw, self-described punany poets take readers on an extraordinary erotic journey, melding poetry, short stories, and prose to explore the essence of black male and female sexuality.

The Punany Poets are pioneers of erotic entertainment, creating lush literary works that also encourage self-empowerment and safer sex. Punany Poets’ founder Jessica Holter, whose urban classic Punany: The Hip Hop Psalms was featured on HBO’s Real Sex, has adapted the Poets’ compositions into a groundbreaking anthology created to rouse the senses and inspire the imagination. Vivid, compelling poems and prose pieces deal with every facet of modern love and lust, and blend tantalizing sensual imagery with an underlying message of urban-rooted AIDS awareness. Never preachy, always original, and guaranteed to stimulate the individual and the couple, Verbal Penetration is unique among poetry anthologies — a riveting, multi-dimensional erotic experience with heart, soul, and message.

Verbal Penetration: Punany Poets is available at Amazon for $16.32. To Order click here
Amazon Product Pages contain a lot of other details on this product as Customer Reviews, Sales Ranking, Special Offers, Alternate products that customers are going for and much more.Want to read these details? click here

Want to get some other Format / Binding / Version? You can search for them from here

Other Products of Interest

• The Head Doctor’s Sex Tales
• Punany the Hip Hop Psalms II: Black Love American Style
• Speak The Unspeakable
• Punany: The Hip Hop Psalms III–The Onliners
• Purple Panties: An Eroticanoir.com Anthology

Silence Dogood here. I just finished reading French Women Don’t Get Fat, the 2005 bestselling entry in the weight-loss wars. (I know I’m behind the trend here, but it was on a dollar sale rack benefiting my local library, and I was curious.) The book basically preaches a commonsense approach to weight loss: Eat as small a portion as you can bear and lead as active a lifestyle as you can manage. 

Let’s just say I can bear smaller portions of some dishes than others, but it’s hard to argue with that message. However. In one chapter, the author insists that you chew each mouthful of food to pulp before swallowing. This advice always ticks me off, and it was especially outrageous coming from a woman who spent almost the entire rest of the book proclaiming what sensualists French women are.

I, Silence Dogood, am here to tell you that no one can be sensual who chews their cud like a cow. Sensualists want to enjoy food at the perfect temperature, texture, and aroma, and it quickly loses appeal if it’s too warm, too cold, or starting to congeal, get mushy or hard, lose its scent or become overpowering, and so on. I cannot think of anything less sensual than putting a bite of food in your mouth and then sitting there, masticating away, thinking “I need to chew this 100 times before I swallow. 44… 45… oh, wait, I’ve lost track!” Unless, of course, it’s looking at someone else while they’re earnestly chewing their own cud.

There is one thing to say about this sort of eating, and it is “Yuck!!!!” But as a weight-loss tactic, it would work for me: I can’t think of a more effective appetite suppressant. Not only would a single endlessly-chewed bite be enough to kill my appetite, but by the time I’d managed to swallow it, the rest of the meal would be cold, congealed… gross. Might as well just stick a wad of gum on your plate and get it over with.

Lest this post leave you with a bad taste in your mouth (I really did try not to say that, at least for five seconds), let me leave you instead with a truly great and insightful quote from the end of the book: “The great Provencal writer Marcel Pagnol believed that God gave laughter to human beings as consolation for being intelligent.” Better to chew on a thought like that than a single interminable bite, say I.

             ’Til next time,

                       Silence

Este ano o Festival de Cannes pôde finalmente contar com a nossa presença. Fomos numa sexta-feira, depois de um almoço à beira mar.

Chegamos pela praia. Que é, na minha opinião, sempre o melhor lado pra se chegar a um lugar.

Como não queríamos chamar a atenção, demos uma volta pelo cais até à extremidade do Palácio do Festival, tipo comendo o mingau pelas bordas, antes de chegar ao fervo da Croisette.

Na verdade, naquela hora a Croisettte ainda tava morna.

Já tinha ouvido alguém dizer, sob o risco de um raio cair sobre a cabeça, que a orla de Cannes parece um pouco com a de Santos. E olha a leoa da foto abaixo que não deixa o raio que partiu mentir. As crias que ela amamentava acho que foram parar no Gonzaga, onde há décadas, eu diria séculos, servem de cavalgadura para crianças.

Caminhamos pelo jardim até a lateral do tapete vermelho, onde se dá o desfile, entre duas arquibancadas de jornalistas.

De última hora, eles liberam a entrada em um bolsão a 10 metros da passarela. Ao lado da escadaria na entrada do palácio, um telão mostra as imagens do que acontece no tapete vermelho. Aos poucos, vão chegando fotógrafos, equipes de cinegrafistas e de tevê. A turma do gel e do silicone vem em seguida. A neo-peituda aí de baixo é famosa, mas não sei quem é não.

Desconhecidos com ar suspeito e roupa alugada aproveitam a ignorância dos jornalistas para fingir que são artistas. Assistimos a uma boa hora de anquinhas, queixos no ombro e beiçolas. Zé Bonitinho não ia fazer feio, nem a Serafina Palito.

Além de não ver nada, e tendo em vista o adiantado da hora, já íamos saindo de fininho quando a Emmanuelle Béart – finalmente, alguém conhecido! – apareceu dando show pros fotógrafos. No telão, parecia que ela ia pro lado direito enquanto os lábios iam pro esquerdo. Um descontrole. Ela, seguramente não dominava aqueles, digamos assim, lábios botocudos… que pareciam ter vida própria. Na hora, eu não lembrei de nada que a Béart tivesse feito. Tenho problemas de memória. Ela, pelo jeito, não, pois me deu até um tchauzinho.

O passeio em Cannes foi bom, mas eu sempre acho curto. Um dia eu volto lá.

Eu ainda não havia feito a conexão entre esse encontro com a Emmanuelle e uma coincidência ocorrida dias antes, num passeio a Ansouis (pronuncia-se o ésse final; soa quase como en Suisse), no Luberon. No carro com nossos amigos Marie Pierre e Bruno, entramos por um caminho entre Lourmarin e Ansouis, daquelas estradas pra um só carro, de mão dupla. Lembrei dos filmes Jean de Florette e Manon des Sources e ia perguntar se eles sabiam onde havia sido filmada a história quando alguém entrou com outro assunto e eu acabei não perguntando nada.

Em Ansouis, vimos uma exposição de flores e passeamos pela vila. 

Um artesão fazia pequenos vasos de barro no torno.

O marketing do cara é dar esses vasinhos de presente pra assistência e ele deu um pra Teté. Que adora vasos, cerâmica e artesanato. E, por que não dizer, adora também os pedriscos do caminho. Aí pintou uma idéia.

E não é que ficou bonitinho? A técnica dos desenhos com pedrinhas ela conheceu em Portugal. Foi, portanto, o provável início de uma influência lusitana na potterie francesa, com desdobramentos inimagináveis e que só poderemos aferir no futuro.

Encurtamos a caminhada, pra preservar o vaso e porque já conhecíamos Ansouis, e nossos amigos franceses nos propuseram ir a Vaugines, onde havia uma pequena igreja que, eles achavam, iríamos gostar.

No caminho, nos disseram que foi em Vaugines que filmaram Manon des Sources (ver também Jean de Florette). E eu não havia falado nada. Ainda boquiaberto com a transmissão de pensamento, chegamos à igreja da vila, que aparece na cena da revelação final da história, quando Yves Montand faz a gente lembrar de Marcello Mastroiani.

O banco de pedra, que se vê na foto abaixo, já conheceu portanto a bunda do Montand, à qual as nossas foram apresentadas por tabela.

Essas coincidências fazem a gente se sentir bem, né? A história é meio invertida, sem sentido cronológico como no bom cinema francês, porque só quando cheguei ao Brasil fui pesquisar sobre os filmes e descobri que a Emmanuelle Béart interpreta Manon e tinha na época uma boca linda, eu diria maravilhosa mesmo, destruída pelo progresso da ciência e pela falta do que fazer.

Não chegou a ser uma descobeeeerta, porque eu já havia visto o filme há muito tempo e conhecia a Emmanuelle, só não me lembrava de onde, como, quando e por quê. E isso é muito normal.

“Blaise : [...] L’intelligence, dans la nature, ce n’était qu’une pauvre petite lueur qui devait nous guider dans l’accomplissement des actes quotidiens. Et nous sommes comme serait un homme qui porte une lampe dans un souterrain à la recherche d’un trésor. Soudain, la lampe fume, ou flamboie, ou ronfle, ou crépite. Alors, il s’arrête, il s’assied par terre, il fait monter ou descendre la mèche, il règle des éclairages. Et ce travail l’intéresse tant qu’il a oublié le trésor, qu’il finit par croire que le bonheur c’est de perfectionner une lampe et de faire danser des ombres sur le mur. Et il se contente de ces pauvres joies de lampiste, jusqu’au jour où il voit soudain que sa vie s’est passée à ce jeu puéril… Alors, il veut se lever, il tend les mains vers le trésor… Trop tard ! La mort déjà le tient à la gorge. L’intelligence, c’est la lampe. Le trésor, ce sont les joies de la vie.”

(« Jazz » (1926), dans Œuvres complètes I : Théâtre / Marcel Pagnol. – Ed. de Fallois, 1995. – acte II, scène 8, p. 225)

On trouve chez Albert Cohen le même type d’idée. Mais les deux compères étaient amis…

Silence

En ces temps commémoratifs, comme on entend beaucoup de bêtises sur les malheurs ou les bienfaits de Mai 68 (Il suffit simplement de comparer les droits de l’époque actuelle avec l’époque d’avant 70 pour en tirer un bilan… positif…malgré tout), je vous propose la définition de Révolution selon le père de Marcel Pagnol… qui m’a toujours bien plu :

“Mon père expliquait à ma mère que, dans la société future, tous les châteaux seraient des hôpitaux, tous les murs seraient abattus, et tous les chemins tracés au cordeau.
« Alors, dit-elle, tu veux recommencer la révolution ?
— Ce n’est pas une révolution qu’il faut faire. Révolution, c’est un mot mal choisi, parce que ça veut dire un tour complet. Par conséquent, ceux qui sont en haut descendent jusqu’en bas, mais ensuite ils remontent à leur place primitive… et tout recommence. Ces murs injustes n’ont pas été faits sous l’Ancien Régime : non seulement notre République les tolère, mais c’est elle qui les a construits ! »
J’adorais ces conférences politico-sociales de mon père, que j’interprétais à ma façon, et je me demandais pourquoi le président de la République n’avait jamais pensé à l’appeler, tout au moins pendant les vacances, car il eût fait en trois semaines le bonheur de l’humanité.“

(La Gloire de mon père /Marcel Pagnol. – éd. Livre de poche, 1967. -  p. 135)

Ca n’a rien à voir mais Marcel Pagnol était un grand ami d’Albert Cohen… Deux écrivains que nous devrions relire intensément… Pourquoi Albert Cohen est si mal connu ? Mystère… Je suis constamment surpris qu’il n’existe pas une grande biographie de Cohen qui montrerait son travail de diplomate et ses engagements…

Silence

(Foto de Guadiramone)

Al Duende le colocaron en la Junta directiva de WWW/ADENA. El pretexto era que algo podría ayudar en la divulgación de esta ONG. Apenas le necesitaban, pues la defensa de la naturaleza es un asunto siempre bien acogido y fácil de difundir. Se convocaba una rueda de prensa y los periódicos hablaban de ella gratis. El Duende entonces se limitó prácticamente a escuchar lo que se debatía en las juntas. Tomaba nota y, de vez en cuando, hacía alguna sugerencia.

El presidente de esta ONG era Francisco Díaz Pineda, catedrático de Ecología. En la junta también estaba Borja Cardelús, compañero de colegio y de carrera del Duende, naturalista y productor de series televisivas como La España salvaje, y autor de más de una docena de libros sobre la materia. A menudo se hablaba del agua, pues acababa de lanzar el gobierno de Aznar el llamado Plan Hidrológico. Ninguno de los dos era partidario de los trasvases.

Con igual peso intelectual han hablado otras voces en sentido contrario. Argumentos archisabidos, a veces contrapuestos: solidaridad interterritorial, equilibrio regional, derecho igualitario al desarrollo, respeto por la ecología, uso adecuado de los recursos naturales, propiedad pública de los cursos de agua. A veces el simple criterio económico, pues según algunos expertos es menos desastroso trasvasar que desalar el agua de mar y transportarla después. O al contrario, claro..

Se trata de agua, pero el Duende confiesa que ya no la ve tan clara. Vaya marrón para este o cualquier gobierno que se atreva a ponerle el cascabel al gato. Al menos mientras el cambio climático no se arrepienta y envíe las lluvias necesarias a la España seca, que cada vez es más grande. Entre tanta polémica, interesada o mezquina, dos afirmaciones que, como poco, sorprenden al indocumentado. La primera, del presidente Zapatero: a Cataluña no le faltará agua, porque la recibirá en barco desde las plantas desaladoras de Almería. La derivada es preguntarse por qué no se hicieron desaladoras en Sitges, por ejemplo, que queda algo más cerca. La segunda, del presidente de la Junta de Aragón: el Ebro no se puede trasvasar porque lo impide el Estatuto. ¿Qué pasará entonces el día que otro estatuto desaforado declare que la atmósfera es de su comunidad autónoma? Hay otra afirmación llamativa, pero ésta entra más bien en el terreno del sarcasmo. Un capitoste del llamado gobierno tripartito de Cataluña reclama sin tapujos transvases desde el Segre porque Catalunya también es España. Se acuerdan de santa Bárbara cuando sólo atruena el eco lastimero de los pantanos vacíos.

A Unamuno le dolía España. A la España autonómica seca, y dividida por las cuencas, sólo le duele el agua que a unos les falta y que otros no quieren repartir. Si al menos se llegara a saber quién tiene razón… Casualmente el Duende ha visto estos días en uno de esos kioscos-bazar que venden periódicos y casi de todo, una oferta de películas que vienen al caso. Se trata de los DVD de La colina del agua y La venganza de Manon, dos excelentes filmes de Claude Berri, basados en sendas novelas de Marcel Pagnol que componen un apasionante drama rural interpretado por Yves Montand, Gerard Depardieu y Daniel Autheil. Aunque el auténtico protagonista de fondo sea otra disputa por el agua. Véanlas si pueden, disfruten y no comparen. Porque en España el auténtico drama no es la sequía, con la que siempre hay que contar. Sino la insolidaridad sobrevenida, la catetería de los nacionalismos, el cinismo de los que encubren intereses inconfesables y, por añadidura, la incompetencia de los que planifican el desarrollo sin mirar antes a las reservas.

Y a esperar que llueva.

Annick Eimer versucht mit einem kurzen Artikel in der ZEIT, den französischen (Lokal-)Schriftsteller Marcel Pagnol und seine Kindheitserinnerungen deutschen Lesern nahe zu bringen – in Frankreich wäre das kaum notwendig, da seine Souvenirs d’enfance nach wie vor zur kanonischen Schullektüre gehören. Wer sich in noch grauen, kalt-feuchten deutschen Spätwintertagen nach ein wenig Sonnenduft sehnt, sollte es vielleicht mit Pagnol versuchen:

Pagnols Bücher riechen und schmecken nach der Provence. Aus jeder Seite kriecht der Duft der Korkeichenwälder, der Oliven-, Aprikosen- und Mandelbäume. Jeder Satz schmeckt nach Thymian, Rosmarin und Lavendel.

Where : Tottori, Japan
What : Yochan is back to his parent’s home for his father’s funeral. He left this place 15 years to live in Tokyo, far from his father.

I’ve never really been interested in mangas but I have to admit that I’ve changed my mind with “Le Journal de Mon Père” (Thanks Will). This very moving book deals with the never-ending father-and-son relationship theme. All through the magnificent and beautifully drawn pages, a son (re)discovers the reality behind the childish vision he had of his father (the real hero). As an adult, and with the help of his family gathered for the funeral, Yochan will learn to love the man he decided so many years earlier. This book of Taniguchi echoes the work of Marcel Pagnol, especially the themes : children trying to understand adults, metaphors through remembrances, the lost of innocence. The title itself sounds like Pagnol’s famous book, La Gloire de Mon Père. Brilliant !

—–

Où ? Tottori, Japon
Quoi ? Yochan retourne dans la ville de son enfance pour les funerailles de son père. Un lieu qu’il a quitté plus de 15 ans auparavant loin de ce père qu’il ne comprenait pas.

Je n’ai jamais vraiment été intéressé par les mangas mais je dois bien admettre que j’ai changé d’avis avec “Le Journal de Mon Père“(Merci Will). C’est encore une fois le thème des relations père-fils qui est abordé ici. Tout au long de ces pages magnifiquement illustrées, c’est un fils qui s’apprête à (re)découvrir la réalité d’un père (le vrai personnage principal) trop longtemps vu avec des yeux d’enfant. En tant qu’adulte, et avec l’aide de sa famille, Yochan va apprendre à aimer cet homme qu’il a décidé de quitter de nombreuses années auparavant. Ce livre de Taniguchi fait écho à l’oeuvre de Marcel Pagnol sur de nombreux points (et pas seulement le titre : La Gloire de Mon Père) : le thème de l’enfance confrontée au monde des adultes, fantasmée mais aussi à la perte de l’innocence. Superbe !

Le Journal de Mon Père
Auteur : Jirô Taniguichi
Ed : Casterman
ISBN : 2203396091

“The reason people find it so hard to be happy is that they always see the past better than it was, the present worse than it is, and the future less resolved than it will be“.

Marcel Pagnol

In her bittersweet children’s book Tuck Everlasting, Natalie Babbitt writes:

“The first week of August hangs at the very top of summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a Ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning.  The weeks that come before are only a climb from balmy spring, and those that follow a drop to the chill of autumn.“

It is the way of Yin and Yang — whenever one reaches its maximum, it begins to turn into its opposite.  And that is where we are now in the turning wheel of the year.  The hot and bright summer having reached its peak — “the top of the live-long year” — the days have now begun, almost imperceptibly, their decline into autumn — the time of growing Yin.

This is when the hokku of Kyoroku comes to mind,

August;
First on the ears of millet –
The autumn wind.

We stand looking out on a field of millet still in the quiet midst of August.  Suddenly a cool wind, almost a mere hint of wind, stirs the heavy seed heads that bend in a gentle wave.  And we suddenly realize that it is the wind of autumn, and summer is ending.

What a world of significance in that verse!

That is the subtlety of  hokku.  We express all of Nature in a single, small thing-event.  And in expressing Nature, we express our own nature as well.

You will find that I repeat certain things again and again, and one of those things is the importance of harmony and unity in a hokku.  In this verse the maturity of the summer matches the maturity of the ears of millet, and suddenly we see a manifestation of this aging — the first sign of decline, the first coolness of the wind that speaks of autumn.

When I say the wind “speaks of autumn,” I mean that in hokku, when the writer gets out of the way, removing the ego from the verse, Nature is able to speak, sometimes in the wind, or the water, or the rain, or any number of things.

Returning to harmony, here is a hokku I wrote:

The tall tree
Cut up in a heap;
Summer’s end.

Read it, see it, feel it.  Can you sense the harmony of elements, the ending of summer, the formerly tall and green and growing tree all cut up into a drying heap of wood?  Can you feel the change in it, the transience that is inseparable from existence?

That transience is an essential element of hokku.  It is what makes Babbitt’s book so filled with that mixture of near sadness and almost lonely wistfulness that the Japanese called sabishisa. It is the knowledge that nothing in life is permanent, everything changes, nothing abides, that all of existence is in constant movement and transformation from one state to another, endlessly being born, growing, dying, changing.  It manifests in the withering of a leaf and in the eons of evolution that has carried life through ceaseless transformations, as Loren Eiseley reminds us in The Immense Journey:

“The truth is that we are all potential fossils still carrying within our bodies the crudities of former existences, the marks of a world in which living creatures flow with little more consistency than clouds from age to age.”

We find the same feeling in Marcel Pagnol’s comments that sum up the ending of his childhood in Le Château de ma Mère – My Mother’s Castle:

“Le temps passe, et il fait tourner la roue de la vie comme l’eau celle des moulins.”

“Time passes, and it turns the wheel of life as water does that of a mill.”

And he finished with these words:

“Telle est la vie des hommes.  Quelques joies, très vite effacées par d’inoubliables chagrins.  Il ne’est pas nécessaire de le dire aux enfants.”

“Such is the life of man — a few joys, very quickly erased by unforgettable sorrows.  It is not necessary to tell that to the children.”

So now we must prepare ourselves, as summer is coming to an end, for the arrival of autumn, a season filled with the sense of things passing and aging and changing, and thus filled with the spirit of hokku.

David

Over the years I’ve used several different recipes for fish soup.  Essentially, I make a strong fish stock with plenty of garlic, herbs, etc, then cook mussels, and a variety of other sea food in the stock  along with several different vegetables and herbs and serve it with  a fresh cilantro garnish and a rouille (a spicy garlic mayonnaise) spread on toasted wholewheat sourdough bread. This is definitely one of my favorite meals and I’ve been making a few changes to the recipe so I’ll post it when I’m satisfied with the final version.  It’s a somewhat elaborate recipe so the whole production is a bit of a time consumer, but it is WELL worth the effort so watch this space!

In the meantime this weekend I watched three of  Marcel Pagnol’s many great films,  Marius (1931), Fanny (1933) and César (1936).  The three films together are known as the Fanny Trilogy or the Marseille Trilogy.  Pagnol, a teacher and playwright turned filmmaker, came from Marseille and was reputedly very fond of Bouillabaisse, as is suggested by Fernandel, an actor who worked with Pagnol on several projects and said:  “With Marcel Pagnol, making a film is first of all going to Marseille, then eating some bouillabaisse with a friend, talking about the rain or the beautiful weather, and finally if there is a spare moment, shooting.”

The characters in the film are bar owners, merchants, sailors and others who live and work on the waterfront in Marseille.  Pagnol shows a great fondness for all these characters and depicts them with enormous humor and endearment.   After losing a game of Boules (Pétanque), César accuses his opponent of cheating and showers him with insults, including the worst possible insult for a Marseillais, a slur on his wife’s fish soup.  This scene also contains two very good tips on making fish soup:

This scene is absolutely hilarious but contains some sage advice about cooking fish stew: 1. Use fresh fish, and 2. Use good water.  Throughout Pagnol’s films, there are all kinds of comic insights into food, wine, aperitifs and, one of Pagnol’s other great passions, the game of boules.  Keep checking in, I’m sure I’ll be referring to some of these in future posts.

Btms^ for February 28!

Beat the Tax! Shop before April 1st for all your favorite Bourbons, Wines and Beers at Liquor Barn!

Complimentary wine samplings @ Liquor Barns today from 3 -6 p.m.

Buy a Try of Pale Ale Beers @ LBs today from 3-6 p.m. too!  

On this date…

1^st televised basketball game in 1940.

We bet all 11 or so of the folks with TV’s in 1940 enjoyed watching that game  with friends, cold beer and snackage, just like we do today!  Here’s to this date in history with a HopSlam beer from Bell’s Brewing or a Gloomsucker Ale from BBC, along with your favor snackage of chips, dips, and pretzels from LB!

Marcel Pagnol (very fine French film director, playwright) born in 1895.

A fine french toast to good health (a votre sante) in celebration of Marcel’s birth date with a glass of very fine French wine: E. Guigal Hermitage, or an equally fine French champagne: Veuve Clicquot! A votre sante!   

Copernicus (astronomer, mathematician) born in 1473.

Until Copernicus and his theory proved otherwise, we thought the world literally revolved around us here on planet Earth. A well-thought and researched toast to Copernicus would be with a glass of cold vodka from his homeland of Poland!

Bernadette Peters (Tony award winning actress, singer) born in 1948.

We wonder if Ms. Peters will be spending “Pennies from Heaven” on “Sunday in the Park with George” or if she will heading “Into the Woods” with “Mack and Mabel” or “The Jerk” on her birthday today! A toast to this bodacious Broadway Baby with a marvelous Martini made with Denaka Vodka!

 Btms^

Besser überleben durch Bibliotherapie

Weltwirtschaftskrise Version 2.0 ist da. Wer zweifelt möge 4 Monate warten.

Hilfreich kann es sein zu lesen wie Menschen noch im vergangenen Jahrhundert in Friedenszeiten mit extrem wenig auskamen.

Ich empfehle zur Lektüre “Die Wasser der Hügel” von Marcel Pagnol. Das Taschenbuch enthält 2 Bände. Die Bücher sind spannend, amüsant und auch lehrreich. Sie spielen in einem Dorf der Provence. Das Dorf hat 150 Einwohner. Wasser ist knapp. Eine der Hauptfiguren ist das Mädchen Manon. Manon wächst heran und rächt sich als junge Frau für ihrem Vater zugefügtes Leid. Dorfbewohner hatten eine Quelle auf dem von ihm geerbten Grundstück verstopft. Um bei Trockenheit an Wasser zu kommen hatte er die Hölle auf Erden. Manon liebt Pflanzen, Tiere und einige Menschen. An materiellen Gütern gemessen ist sie arm. Sie überlebt mit dem denkbar Wenigsten. Sie betreibt Survival bevor der Begriff geboren ward. (Überlebensexperte Rüdiger Nehberg hätte seine helle Freude an ihr gehabt.) Innerlich ist sie reich. Dann eröffnet der sogenannte Zufall ihr die Chance ihre offene Rechnung mit den Dörflern zu begleichen…