Photos: Classiq Journal
”Savoring the promise of autumn just begun.”
Callum Robinson, “Treasure”
Viewing
Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore, 1974
Martin Scorsese
I love how different this film is from Martin Scorsese’s other films. And I wanted to rewatch it just for Kris Kristofferson. The story of a woman, Alice (Ellen Burstyn), who takes the road and her life in her own hands. This is one of those great American road movies of the 1970s, bringing together elements such as the great outdoors, rock ‘n’ roll and characters who thrive in a new found freedom, and I am surprised why it is not considered as such. Everything happens so naturally and realistically on screen, in the story and between the actors, and Scorsese’s strong feel for characters is best felt both in Alice and in the depiction of the two contrasting male individualities, played by Harvey Keitel and Kris Kristoffersen. “Spending time with Kris when we made ‘Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore’ was one of the highlights of my life. What a sweet, warm family spirit we all shared on that picture — Ellen Burstyn, Diane Ladd, Alfred Lutter, and Jodie Foster, both so young, and Kris. His presence…the voice, the cool, benign manner, the way he moved… Onscreen or in person, he brought all of himself. He gave so much heart and humor to his character, and to all of our days shooting in Tucson. What a beautiful human being. What a great artist.” – Martin Scorsese
The Hunt, 2012
Thomas Vinterberg
If I were to describe the atmosphere in Thomas Vinterberg’s films, I would resume to the words the director himself used when he talked about his Danish films as opposed to his English language movies: “It seems that when I dip my hands into my own backyard, it becomes universal. When I reach out for the universal, the opposite happens.” In The Hunt, Mads Mikkelsen plays Lucas, a teacher by training but who now works as a daycare employee after he lost his job. He is professionally decent, caring, kind, and he is falsely accused by a kid of inappropriate behaviour. He suddenly finds himself standing alone in a hostile world. It shows how easily we judge, how easily we toss out friends. It’s heartbreaking and it shook me to the core. The only one who shows unconditional faith in him, besides his son, is his only true friend, his son’s godfather, and those scenes between them had a great effect on me, because they showed that it doesn’t take much, just a single word or gesture, to assure someone of your trust or shatter his confidence and make his world crumble. And the most harrowing thing about this remarkable film is that Lucas, often just through the look in his eyes, transmits what it must feel like to feel guilty about a crime he didn’t commit – there are no easy outs for the audience. Because when you are wrongly accused of something, even if you are proved innocent, there is an irremediable harm done, and everyone, except that one true friend, might still consider you guilty. That’s something unequivocally universal, too.
Spectre, 2015
Sam Mendes
This time around, I watched it for the Mexico City opening scene alone, where they recreated a magnificent Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) festival. A Halloween of sorts, the more authentic kind.
The Man from Laramie, 1955
Anthony Mann
Mann was not interested in the old idealized West and his westerns have something dark in them, going places other filmmakers altogether dismissed. In The Man from Laramie, James Stewart is an isolated character, eschewing stereotypes. It’s in Mann’s films, as well as in Hitchcock’s, when I like Stewart best, and when he has shown his best as an actor. It takes a director, it seems, to unleash an actor from relatable hero images and give him the trust and freedom to explore different characters and new personal depths.
Reading
Seven Gothic Tales, by Isak Dinesen.
The Simple Things, my latest discovery in magazines. From the editor’s letter (there’s nothing I loath more about a magazine, great as it may be in any other way, than one that lacks a beautifully written editor’s letter, and, thankfully, Lisa Sykes has a way with words) to the very last page, featuring a heartwarming short story, Treasure, by Callum Robinson, this magazine, and especially the October issue, appropriately titled “Weave”, is about the simple things and taking time to live well.
In the latest issue of Financial Times Weekend, Yuval Noah Harari (have you read Sapiens and Homo Deus?) writes the article Beware the march of AI beaurocrats, about the primitive AIs that are the social media algorithms, who “have reshaped the world, exerting enormous influence on human society” and the very “narrow goal, perfect for idiot servants” they have been tasked with: “to increase user engagement”. And that “in pursuit of user engagement, the algorithms made a dangerous discovery. By experimenting on millions of guinea pigs”, these primitive AIs “learnt that greed, hate and fear increase user engagement.” It’s so simple that it’s frightful.
Légende no.8: Nadal. Because one must. It’s the end of the most beautiful era in tennis as I’ve known it.
Listening
The album: Kristofferson, Kris Kristofferson
The soundtrack: Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore
Making
During a recent trip to Copenhagen, strolling on one of the city’s most beautiful streets, Værnedamsvej, lined with wine and cheese shops, fresh flowers, and, some argue, the best café in the Danish capital, Italo Caffe, I found myself in front of the small contemporary art gallery HannemannLund by pure chance. The space is used as an exhibition room and also a studio, which makes it a very special experience. Artist and gallery owner Mette Hannemann herself was hard at work inside and incredibly welcoming. And truth be told, any artist who has a beautiful tennis artwork displayed would win me over in an instant anyway.
Exploring
Copenhagen and Denmark in the midst and mist of autumn. Not the best choice for autumn, one might argue, but when one’s spirit is undampened, and determined to have a taste of a noir Scandinavian autumn, all is alright, and then some, come rain, drizzle and fog. And rain, drizzle and fog did all come. Yet we found it beautiful – experiencing a city where bikes outrun cars played a fairly important part in it, I will admit. From walks in Fredericksberg Park, pastries at Hart Bageri, collecting illustrations from different cultural outposts, rummaging special Isak Dinesen and Hans Christian Andersen editions in bookshops, and art gallery and record store hopping, to a Nyhavn stroll from across the ship-lined canal for a better view, a day trip to Louisiana Museumn and Deerhaven, the amazing park just north of Copenhagen, where deers roam free, and a train journey through rural Jutland, it was by far one of the best autumnal trips and a fast route to becoming a Scandophile.
And finally, Tivoli. I have never been a fan of amusement parks, and I would only put foot in one just for my son, but then again Tivoli Gardens, Copenhagen’s storied amusement park and Hans Christian Andersen’s own inspiration for writing The Nightingale, is in a league of its own. The imposing and equally elegant brick entrance alone feels like a passage into a world a fantasy. I’ve never been a fan of Halloween either, but then again Tivoli has its own take on it and makes it right. Tivoli just works for adults and children alike.
On an end note
If I could choose an exhibition to see this autumn, that would be Christiane Spangsberg’s The Play (Tennis, Horse and Butterfly are the three themes), which will be on display at Østerbrohuset, Copenhagen, November 24th. I have had a long-time appreciation for the timeless and minimalist art of Christiane Spangsberg and I wish I could have caught her show while in town.
“It seems that when I dip my hands into my own backyard,
it becomes universal. When I reach out for the universal,
the opposite happens.”
Thomas Vinterberg
”The Play” by Christiane Spangsberg / “Tennis” painting by Mette Hannemann / New Mags bookstore
