Volver is the outstanding apex of Manchego director Pedro Almodóvar's body of work and a love song for his home of Calzada de Calatrava, from the dusty villages of La Mancha seen through the eyes of the women that make its windmills churn. Almodovar nails the female archetype from the proud and praire-like heartland of Central Spain, my second home for the last 6 + years. Starring Lola Dueñas, Carmen Maura, and Almodóvar muse Penelope Cruz as three women who trace the secrets of the livng and the dead and the shame of their family's wretched past from the small village that triggers it all to their refuge in the working class neighbourhoods of Vallecas. Almodovar hits every nuance, every idiosyncracy, every palabrota bang on in part by casting locals in roles portraying themselves.Filmed in Vallecas, Almagro, and Villanueva de los Infantes Almodóvar never names his pueblo but there is no need. It is La Mancha's Everytown. Cruz packed on 15lbs and a prosthetic rear end for her career tour de force as Raimunda. This is Pé at her top top top form earning Cruz Best Actress honours at Cannes. My hope is she boycotts the Hollywood cotton candy forevermore (read All the Pretty Horses, Captain Corelli's Mandolin, Sahara) even if it does pay the bills. If Volver sweeps the Oscars, as industry buzz is speculating, it could be the first time since Sophia Loren in Two Women that the prize for Best Actress goes to a foreign language film. Genial.p.s. Brunched at one of my old university haunts, the Cafe Seven West. It's been more than a fortnight since I graced its church pew seating as a novice scribbler mulling Sartre and Le Devoir over café alongé. It's still open 24/7 and the espresso is exactly the way I remember it.
Desolata Giorgio but Katie could have purchased this ca-keeta on Spadina Ave (what with the lacy collar and frill to boot!). ICK!
Reading up on all the poop on the Cruise/Holmes wedding in Bracciano, Italy. (I'll apologize in advance for the crappy link. You'd think the Braccianesi could have dolled up their site given all the hype surrounding the wedding of the year.)
Sooooooo, I have been eating up all the pink press from the most reliable source on the planet. www.telecinco.es. Seems as if the citizens of Bracciano are mighty pissed at being upstaged by the Hollywood glitterati as their sleepy village of 20 000 was taken over by the likes of psycho-lollipop and Holmes-new-best-Mommy-pal Victoria Beckham, a trillion papparazzi, Brooke Shields, Jim Carrey, Will and Jada Smith, Connor and Isabella Kidman-Cruise (likely sick of globetrotting to their parents' respective weddings) and a cavalcade of Hollywood stars happy to smile nice for the camera for free face time with the press. Now I kind of understand their point. My parents are Italian. I was married in a Medieval Spanish city and have been to enough European weddings to defend the convention and ritualistic rite of passage for villagers to watch the bride exit her home, stroll throught the village square, enter the church if not solely to comment on her gown, her hair, whether she is pregnant, or if she is making the biggest mistake of her life. Observers forked over a hefty 1000 euros for ogling rights that included visions of countless black SUVs snaking up the hill to the castle. Detractors have argued that Bracciano will likely recoup the temporary inconvenience with scores of American principesse that will undoubtedly drool at the thought of copycatting the Holmes/Cruise fairytale.
Ironically the Scientology rite is not legally recognized anywhere in the world which makes me wonder if this was an intentional Cruise calculation given the predictable statute of limitations on Holmes in her most current role as his wife?
Saw Babel on Friday night. At first the thought of a 2 hr + movie after a long work week was not so appealing. We were up for the flashier Casino Royale but twas not to be had on opening weekend. Antonio caved.
If you want to be heard, listen. Babel weaves the lives of the desperate in Tokyo, the Moroccan desert, and the Mexicali border as one incident richochets throught the lives of many. An American couple plan a Moroccan escape to save their flailing marriage. Their Mexican nanny cannot find a substitute to babysit the blonde scions in order to attend her son's wedding so they accompany her across the Tecate border led by her hot-headed nephew. A deaf mute is living with the affects of teen angst and trauma after her mother's suicide. A Bedouin goat shepherd scrapes by with his wife and three children in the Moroccan desert.
There is talk that director Alejandro González Iñárritu and screenwriter Guillermo Arriaga (collaborators on Amores Perros and 21 Grams, Babel is the third in their 'Death Trilogy') will never work together again after a serious knocking of heads over the auteurship of their previous films. The director is claiming sole credit as the creator of the films, dismissing his screenwriter's contribution to the pictures. In the fallout Iñárritu banned Arriaga from attending the 2006 Cannes Film Festival. Ouch!
HAD HORRENDOUS FOOD AND SERVICE AT SPRINGROLL on Front St. Our server hid from us as we paid our bill and vowed never again. Goes down on my list with the Red Tomato and East Side Mario's. Avoid this cripe and dog food at all costs!
On Saturday we watched rinkside as the Leafs were pummelled by the Devils due in whole to the magic of Martin Brodeur. Antonio was amazed at the fan reaction as Leaf tough guy Wayne Belak took plenty out of Devil Cam Janssen. Even my soft spot for Mike Peca could not rile what was a night of essentially boring hockey.
Spewing on the glories of autoshare.ca for my uber-engaging Media Studies course at OISE. Autoshare is Canada's first car-sharing network. When I expressed (read complained) about the cost of gas, insurance, and the other never-ending evils associated with owning an automobile in Toronto, my husband turned to me and blankly stated 'So, get rid of the car'. I stopped for a moment. How would we get to Ikea? Make deliveries for our wine business? Weekend jaunts and visiting friends out of town? I hummed and hawed over dumping the costly, carbon-belching beast we had inherited from my uncle but after my first click at autoshare.ca, every doubt I had vanished.
Autoshare is every-single-urban-city-dweller's answer to cutting the costs of car ownership and smugly reducing polluting emissions all from behind the wheel of a nifty Mini Cooper or Mercedes Smartfortwo. It takes some planning (about this much . ) and we have never had a problem getting a car when we want it. (If I can help it, I will never own a car again.) For those of you who know me, if you are interested in signing up, mention my name and receive a 50% rebate on the one time sign-up fee.
I. Am. Hooked.
Volver is the outstanding apex of Manchego director Pedro Almodóvar's body of work and a love song for his home of Calzada de Calatrava, from the dusty villages of La Mancha seen through the eyes of the women that make its windmills churn. Almodovar nails the female archetype from the proud and praire-like heartland of Central Spain, my second home for the last 6 + years. Starring Lola Dueñas, Carmen Maura, and Almodóvar muse Penelope Cruz as three women who trace the secrets of the livng and the dead and the shame of their family's wretched past from the small village that triggers it all to their refuge in the working class neighbourhoods of Vallecas. Almodovar hits every nuance, every idiosyncracy, every palabrota bang on in part by casting locals in roles portraying themselves.
