Classiq - An online journal that celebrates cinema, culture, style and storytelling.

24 April 2017

A Sporting Life: Guillermo Vilas

A Sporting Life – taking on the challenge to put together sports and style (not exactly natural bedfellows), and making a plea for outdoor sports

It’s clay-court season and Rafael Nadal just won his tenth Monte Carlo title yesterday, becoming the only player in the history of tennis to win the same championship ten times. It was also his 50 clay-court trophy, beating Guillermo Vilas’ until-last-year record of 49. You may have read about Nadal a couple more times here on the blog or on my Instagram, so regardless of his milestone achievement, I don’t want to repeat myself. Instead, today I am going to talk about the other Spanish-speaking champion of la terra batuda – the aforementioned Vilas, considered the best Argentinian tennis player of all time.

When I started this series, I meant to make it mainly about former sports champions, about those times when players combined substance and image, and defined a game. And as long as we talk about tennis, the stars of the modern men’s game will never arise the kind of passion and adulation tennis players generated a few decades ago. My father, who is much more advised to talk about those times than me, says that the top five players of those years were unequivocally more valuable than those of today. Vilas was one of them. His tennis was skillful, accurate, consistent. Tennis may be more spectacular and rapid today (due to space-age rackets, new technologies, improved equipment, more rapid court surfaces that unfortunately sometimes produce better servers than complex tennis players – and, frankly, that is what my problem with Serena Williams has always been), but the players were undoubtedly more talented back then, continues my dad. And there is more than that. In the wood-racket era, the tennis stars of the 1970s and 1980s dominated the sport not only with their abilities, but also with their personalities, as James Kaplan was pointing out in a New York Times articles some years ago. And the style of the head-to-head rivalries counted as the third player on the court. “Artistry has yielded to velocity.”

Even if he was strangely inefficient at the French Open, winning only one of his four finals there (it must be noted though that he lost to Björn Borg twice and to Mats Wilander once, in 1982, at the Swedish player’s first attempt at Roland Garros – only Nadal would also win the title at his first attempt, in 2005), the left-handed Argentine’s command of play on clay is undisputed. In the late 1970s, Vilas went on a title-winning rampage, making history with his winning streak of 53 straight wins on clay in 1977, a record that Rafael Nadal later eclipsed with 81.

Known for his one-handed backhand and smashing good looks (apparently Borg had a rival even in sweating a headband), Guillermo Vilas fused success with stardom. PUMA’s iconic “GV” line was reintroduced in 2007, in homage to the Argentine legend who, back in the day, paired with the brand to create a line of tennis shoes that matched his winning style.

Related A Sporting Life entries: Roger Federer / Rafael Nadal / Jean-Claude Killy / Nacho Figueras / Björn Borg

photos: 1-Björn Borg and Guillermo Vilas, Suntory Cup, 1982 / 2- Argentina Exceptión, 1975

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17 April 2017

In His Own Words, Morrissey

“I didn’t want to live unseen, camouflaged within the crowd. I knew then that life could only ever be changed for the better because somebody somewhere had taken a risk – often with
their own life.”

Just read it: These were initially the only words I wanted to tell you about Morrissey’s Autobiography. It is more than enough to recommend a book that will leave you feel richer. After all, isn’t this the best part about good books? But then I’m thinking I want to add a few more things to that, before I leave you with a few quotes from its pages. It is a superb book, not just the best musical autobiography I have read so far.

Even before starting to read it, Morrissey’s autobiography stole a big smile off my face: it was published as a Penguin Classic – so pretentious, so characteristic of Morrissey, so right to be so. From the opening pages I knew I was in good hands. With audacious skill and understated humour, it delves deep into his life and soul, evoking a sense of what it must be like to dwell within an out-of-the-ordinary mind. Because it does feel like you have a privileged access to a very rich inner world; it feels rewarding. Sincere to the core, devastatingly articulate and completely authentic, just like the music of Morrissey and The Smiths, a music that always felt personal to their millions of fans – they found out they were not alone in their insecurities, worries and anxieties. But I also believe that the unique creativity of Morrissey also stemmed from the fact that he was so passionate about one thing and one thing only – music – and once he found it, he hasn’t let it go. And if you have that, something to live for, you can change the world.

“History has trapped me for a long time, and now it must let me go,”
said Morrissey when he started to sing.

The book The Smiths, by Nalinee Darmrong, released last year, documenting The Smiths on tour in the USA during the 1980s, is on my list now.

“Change! Change! Change!
It doesn’t happen by being the same as everybody else.
Now I could accept all the suffering that came my way
as long as the Ramones were in the world.”

“Life’s biggest prize is to have the day before you as yours alone to do with as you wish.”

“Although a passable human creature on the outside,
the swirling soul within seemed to speak up
for the most awkward people on the planet.”

“It is quite true that I have never had anything
in my life that I did not make for myself.”

“I had originally decided to use only my surname because I couldn’t think of anyone else in music that had done so – although, of course, many had been known by just one name, but it hadn’t been their surname. Only classical composers we known by just their surnames, and this suits my mudlark temperament quite nicely.”

photos: 1-by me /2-Nalinee Darmrong, from the book The Smiths / 3-The Smiths book cover, Nalinee Darmrong

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7 April 2017

Three Films by Wong Kar Wai

I have watched only three films by Wong Kar Wai and I loved them all. I don’t know what I will feel about the rest of them, but the fact that the movies I have seen spoke to me I am sure will have an impact on my appreciation of the rest of his filmography. So, yes, I believe that when you are trying to discover a filmmaker’s work for the very first time, it’s important where you start. It can be a daunting task. I was sometimes inclined to think that it may be a good thing to discover them gradually, ease into them by watching their debut film and see their vision evolve from there. But unless it’s a new-comer and you get to watch his films along the way, I don’t believe this is the best approach.

That said, I don’t plan too long what film to watch next. If there is something that appeals to you about it, if only the title, or if it was a recommendation from a friend whose suggestions you trust, just go for it. I try to be very open minded towards anything that comes my way. You’ll be surprised how varied your cinematic taste can be and how it can change in time. In the same regard, I don’t read too many reviews before watching something (it wasn’t just once that I read a “reliable” review about something I wanted to view to realise how differently I felt about it afterwards) and instead, my husband and I usually go with our instinct – which, after more than three thousand movies watched, is something I can sincerely say that we can rely on. So I believe it’s more a matter of circumstance, which, in the case of Wong Kar Wai’s films, was a lucky one for me. So here is what I loved so much about them – and the first thing would be that they are not for everyone.

In the Mood for Love (2000)
The first Kar Wai film that I watched and watching it felt like something had been missing from cinema forever. Had it been the only one by the director that I liked, it would have been enough. In the Mood for Love is a visual splendour, a ravishing cinematic exploration of unrequited love and quiet, barely suppressed passion, depicting sensuality through music, light, colour and space alone. There is this melancholic, dream-like beauty hovering over – the way it evokes the essence of romantic love, while keeping everything wonderfully ambiguous makes this film one of its kind. The kind of film that lingers in your memory, just like Maggie Cheung walking up the stairs has been imprinted in our cinematic memory. A big part in the cinematic beauty of this film (those radiant cheongsams, the hidden glances, the gliding camera moves) played Christophe Doyle, the cinematographer, and the multivalent William Chang, credited with the set design, costumes (I wrote about them here), and editing – both of them are close, long-time collaborators of Kar Wai.

Chungking Express (1994)
While I am glad I started with In the Mood for Love, watching Chungking Express (years apart, sadly) I was just as glad to find out that Wong Kar Wai knows how to make you laugh, too. It is a nice change of pace. It is a story about love and heartache, navigating the loneliness of modern big city life, as characters brush against one another throughout their busy days but struggle to connect. It does it with playful exuberance, which makes it electrifying to watch, especially in this trendsetting vision of the city in motion created by Wong Kar Wai. Furthermore, it is his most accessible film, from what I have seen, which could be a good starting point. In fact, as John Powers writes in the book WKW : The Cinema of Wong Kar Wai, when it was released, film schools urged their students to go see it, and filmmakers, young and not-so-young, copied its style. But I don’t think success is what Wong is after. He is a unique filmmaker, he follows his own instincts and trusts his own taste. If the audience finds it in themselves to relate to it and appreciate it, then it’s all for the better.

2046 (2004)
2046, Chow Mo Wan (Tony Leung, Kar Wai’s muse) tells us, is a place that no one has ever left. It is a futuristic world he has written a novel about, where memories stand still, where people can travel by train to find lost lovers. As he seeks the lover that he lost in In the Mood for Love (the film is a self-reflexive sequel to the 2000 film – he mentions her name, but there are other many ties to it, too), Chow is a womaniser who stays at the Oriental Hotel in room 2047, right next to room 2046, a room where an important part of his past was written – his heart remained there.

Loneliness is a recurrent theme in Kar Wai’s films. But the director finds new ways to depict it in 2046 – through setting (in a hotel), the main male character (he has a tortured soul, and despite his many interactions with women, his past refuses to stay in the past), and especially the main female character (Ziyi Zhang in the role of Bai Ling, an escort who falls for Chow). It is her who owns 2046. Her superb performance, her shifts of emotions (especially in the scene in the restaurant where she is about to say goodbye to Tony), that kind of vulnerability, and heartache, and loneliness so expressively portrayed on screen, in pretty much one shot, does something to you. Wong Kar Wai’s movies do something to you. They have an aftertaste – that’s what a good movie is about, in the director’s own words.

photos: movie stills from 1,2-In the Mood for Love (Block 2 Pictures/Jet Tone Production/Paradis Films) / 2-Chungking Express (Jet Tone Production) / 4-2046 (Shanghai Film Group/Jet Tone Production/Orly Film)

Posted by classiq in Film | | Comments Off

30 March 2017

Travelling Wes Anderson Style: The Darjeeling Limited

I have been on a Wes Anderson marathon lately, revisiting almost everything I had already seen and finally watching the rest. However, the idea for this article came to me when I saw the illustration below, made by Wes’ brother, Eric Chase Anderson, in the book The Wes Anderson Collection. For anyone interested in fashion and film, a lot of the appeal of the 11-set Louis Vuitton luggage emblazoned with playful palm trees and colourful animals that appears in The Darjeeling Limited has to do with the Louis Vuitton name. After all, Louis Vuitton is what it is and Wes Anderson is a director who has an obsessive eye for details – “I guess they make the best suitcases,” the director explained his choice. But, as far as I’m concerned, the reason it truly stands apart is Eric Anderson’s artwork of perfectly painted details. It blends seamlessly into Wes Anderson’s distinctive, self-contained universe. A universe that, in this case, includes a specifically constructed train that was fully functioning, filled with handmade furnishings and props, and meticulously painted by local artisans. It is a storybook version of India that is more a state of mind, a metaphorical space than a geographic one. The Wes Anderson World.

Cowritten by Anderson, Roman Coppola and Jason Schwartzman, Darjeeling tells the story of the Whitman brothers (played by Owen Wilson, Adrien Brody and Jason Schwartzman), who travel by train through India, hoping to reconnect with one another, come to terms with their father’s death, and track down their mother, Patricia (Anjelica Huston), who didn’t attend the funeral and is now a nun in an Indian religious order somewhere. Anderson had had this idea about three bothers travelling on a train for some time, but it was only after a screening of the restored version of Jean Renoir’s The River, by Scorsese’s The Film Foundation, that he decided to set his movie in India. Other two influences were Satyajit Ray’s films and Louis Malle’s documentaries about India.

Eric Chase Anderson’s artwork for the Whitmans’ father’s custom Louis Vuitton luggage

A center idea in Darjeeling is the notion of being an American abroad. They wouldn’t adapt. They are “kind of sort of” interested in the country around them, but not really, as the writer of the book The Wes Anderson Collection, Matt Zoller Seitz, remarks in his interview with the director, covering this film. The Whitman brothers show a certain interest, but they are not exactly open-minded, hardly anything comes into their worldview. They remain themselves. Furthermore, they carry these familiar objects around that have a meaning to them, mostly things that had belonged to their father, clinging to the illusion of control.

The Louis Vuitton luggage attests to all of that. Both elegant and absurd, the luggage epitomizes the timeless and quirky aesthetic of Anderson’s films’ world. Wes Anderson is a director in command of everything that appears on screen. And everything that appears on screen is aesthetically pleasing — from his knack for singularly odd colours, to his penchant for symmetry and composition. Nothing is accidental. In the Anderson universe, characters are defined by their clothes. You can tell you are watching an Anderson film by the costumes. His characters live in perfectly styled, make-believe worlds, and it is usually the tiny details that make each character look precisely quirky, and, almost always, to a certain extent, all-American, be it in sportswear, navy blazers and preppy ties, or fringed western attire.

“I’m not going to theorize on what the symbolism of luggage is,” Marc Jacobs said in an interview for The Observer right after the film’s release. But let us talk about that candy-coloured, monogrammed impedimenta made by the designer, who also outfitted the Whitman brothers in their uniform of grey suits, during his tenure at Louis Vuitton. Throughout the unfamiliar locale, the Whitman brothers’ mountain of harlequin, custom-made luggage, which had belonged to their recently deceased father, serves as a kind of reassurance, emotional support. “They’re on this spiritual journey,” Marc Jacobs said, “and it’s sort of like they’re carrying the remnants of their father’s life with them wherever they go”. Anderson envisioned the bags “right down to the colour of the lining and the sort of fixtures within the luggage that held a tennis racket or tennis balls and types of pockets that these suitcases should have,” according to Jacobs. Down to the tiniest detail. That’s what makes the Anderson world so special. His films really do not speak to everyone, and I think that’s a great thing.

The Whitman brothers, as accurate a depiction of the American traveller as they may be, do go through some sort of a spiritual transformation by the end of the film though, because they leave their father’s luggage behind in order to be able to catch the train taking them to the airport, back to their lives, old but (maybe) new.

Discover our movie stories shop – inspired by the fascinating world of cinema and by the never-fading beauty of the tangible

sources: The Wes Anderson Collection, by Matt Zoller Seitz / The Observer

photos: movie stills (Fox Searchlight Pictures, Collage Cinemagraphique, American Empirical Pictures), except for the second one: by me, taken from the book The Wes Anderson Collection

Posted by classiq in Film costume | | 2 Comments

24 March 2017

A Sporting Life: Roger Federer

A Sporting Life – taking on the challenge to put together sports and style (not exactly natural bedfellows), and making a plea for outdoor sports

Let me start by saying that I did not see this blog post coming. First of all, what could I possibly tell you about Roger Federer that you didn’t already know? But then again, I don’t make the news here on the blog, never have, but rather put my own spin on the subjects I am passionate about. Secondly, I will be honest and get it out of the way: I have never been a Roger Federer fan (and I am not the only one). Yes, I love tennis. Yes, tennis is like a second nature to Federer. Yes, he is probably the best tennis player of all time. Yes, I admire his talent, his sportsmanship, his unique ease and elegance of play, his class on and off court. But I will always be a Nadal fan through and through.

To make things more clear: Our almost two-year-old son loves football. Better said, he loves to hit the ball and have either my husband and I as goalkeeper. He often scores, too. No kidding. He was a late walker and we already find it so funny that he could hit the ball with such effect and precision (while holding my hand or his father’s to keep his balance when standing) before he could even walk by himself. So, yes, one could say he loves football. I am not happy about it. Sure, I will encourage him to channel his energy towards his talents, whatever those might be, but if he suddenly turns his attention towards tennis, when it comes to sports, that will make me very, very happy. A couple of months ago, during the Australian Open, I put a racket in his hands. He took a look at the players playing on tv and made a move with the racket. The moment was captured on camera, of course (in case there comes a time when he will be asked to document his earliest tennis memory), and sent to family and friends. He has a few tics. If he takes his bottle with water from one spot, he returns it to the exact same spot. He arranges his football for seconds in a row, not one single mm more to the left or to the right, before hitting it. Can you see where I’m going with this? Yeah, I jokingly call him Nadal whenever I see him do those things. And, yeah, that big of a Nadal fan I am (here is some of my reasoning for it).

BUT. My admiration for Federer has recently shifted. He has just won the Indian Wells after he defeated Rafa in the fourth round and Stan Wawrinka in the final. And, of course, there was the Australian Open win against Nadal back in January, his fifth Australian title, five years after his last major tournament victory, breaking his own record of 17 grand slam titles. What a final! Two ageless champions, both Rafa and Roger making a come-back and setting an extraordinary example for everyone, through their great rivalry, through displaying the best values of sport. A match for the ages. And what a win! Truthfully, I didn’t take it lightly. But the way Federer turned the score around in the final set was something that only Nadal was usually capable of. Roger that.

Suddenly, there was this new side of Federer. A new way of his to play tennis. He seems to enjoy it more. He seems that the only one he wants to defeat is himself (that’s another Nadal quality alright). He seems to move with even more ease and unnatural naturalness on the court. I certainly like his game more than in his early years. It wasn’t however only this phenomenal come-back that made the difference for me. It was all the years leading up to it. Because Federer never went away, except for those few months of last year due to injury. He has always been there, ranked among the first players in the world. Often reaching the semifinals and finals of all the big four tournaments. And that is what is so damn remarkable. That kind of perseverance, not necessarily the number of victories, is what I admire the most in a sportsman. But I admit, the recent Australian title sealed it for me. Going for it when he was probably the only one who believed he could still do it. That’s a champion.

Related A Sporting Life entries: Rafael Nadal / Jean-Claude Killy / Nacho Figueras / Björn Borg

photos: 1-Craig McDean for GQ / 2-World Tennis Magazine

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