29 July, 2012

Ups and downs

28th July 2012 (High Tatras, Slovakia and Poland)

Spent the day riding up and down funiculars, cable cars and ropeways. Have only recently come to appreciate the differences between them although functionally they all do the same thing: get you up (or down) a mountain.

In addition to splendid views, there are amazing things at the top end of these structures, for example glacial lakes (it's summer, so they are full of water at the moment), a bar at a solar observatory where one can get mulled wine and hot chocolate, or a hiking trail.

Photo of the day is Boff looking out at the Tatras from Zakopane, a border town in Poland on the other side of the mountain range of where we spent the night in Slovakia.

We have exchanged our euros for zloty and have arrived in Krakow. One thing I'll never do again: not have accommodation booked for when I arrive in a foreign country for the first time at two in the morning.

28 July, 2012

Horny mountin'

27th July 2012 (High Tatras, Slovakia)
It's getting to the point where I'm thinking things like 'we're in Slovakia, so this must be Friday', which I thought would happen much, much later in the trip. Photo of the day was taken at 5am when the train from Poprad-Tatry (at the mouth of the High Tatras) took us to Stary Smokovec, which is the first major ski resort area of the mountains. Apparently everything is considered part of the ski resort, even though summer is the most popular month and everyone comes to do the hikes.

We arrived at 5.30am when nothing was open not even the toilet (the toilets cost 30 eurocents, usually worth it because they are quite nice compared to other train station toilets I've been to, but I can't think of how little the toilet attendant must earn, and what a subsistence!).

Boff, Kathleen and I sat down until 7am in the dawnlight catching up on journals, blogs etc and then went to see if the hostel had any beds available. It didn't, so we ended up having breakfast at a weird cafeteria/buffet place and then seeking the assistance of a very funny (thankfully English-speaking) information lady, who booked us in at another place that was half the price down the road.

By 'down the road' she meant one station away at Horny Smokovec, which was a 10-minute walk. Yes, I am writing this from a hostel in a town that has the name of a porn star. The rooms weren't ready so we washed up as best we could and headed back into town, took the funicular up to a place called Hrebienok and commenced a walk that took us past four waterfalls (vodopad; 'vodo' means 'water', 'pad' must mean 'fall').

We were all light on sleep, and bad sleep at that, so we opted not to do the full day walk and instead wandered around until we got hungry and took the funicular down to to town to have a late lunch. There are a bunch of couriers who work the mountain carrying things on their backs. The kinds of things they carry: crates of beer, propane gas, bar fridge—sometimes all at once. I don't think you could pay me to do that job.

At the hostel, which was actually a room above a Polish restaurant, we had a shower and a nap that took us to dinner, which ended up being the Slovakian specials at the Polish restaurant. Including blueberry dumplings.

Am finding Slovakians quite hard to figure out. The ones I've encountered have tended to be abrupt or slightly frustrated with our inability to speak Slovak (caveat: I don't even have Lonely Planet to help me grasp the language, the closest is Czech). We've managed, so far, to find our way around using Bahasa Tarzan (ie charades), money, and people with some words of English to have had a decent time. The only truly helpful person was the info lady. I was surprised at how good her English was considering she was quite old and most others who have a few words under their belt are young wait staff (all with an attitude).

One saving grace is that everything here is quite cheap (if you don't talk to Boff about how cheap Romania was). We're talking 12 euros for a hostel bed with free internet, 7 euros for a breakfast for two, and 1 euro for 500ml of beer (or 1,20 euro water/tea if you prefer). Let me order another pint...

Getting busy

26th July 2012 (Budapest, Hungary)
Walked to the train station (Keleti) via yet another on-the-go cheese and bread breakfast. Pekseg, I quickly learnt, is the Hungarian word for bakery. We went to get my Eurail pass stamped and reserve a sleeper ticket for our journey to Poprad-Tatry (in the High Tatras) but the lady refused to sell us a reservation, citing the short journey (2.5 hours to Bratislava, 4 hours from Bratislava to Poprad-Tatry) as a reason not to get sleepers.

We then walked through City Park to Heroes' Square. There is a castle on the lake there that looks like different parts of it was made in different eras, but charming all the same.

We wanted to go to the art gallery, which was highly receommended by my Hungarian friend Emese but it was closed as it was in between exhibitions. Instead we wandered through Heroes' Square and then went to the fine art museum on the other side, which had ancient pottery on the bottom level and European art on the top. Things began to devolve when I started saying things like, "he's going in for the blowjob" about a painting of Diana and Actaeon, then Boff and I started making up stories about the paintings until we could walk the galleries no more and went downstairs to have lunch.

After that we went to Budapest Zoo next door. It was quite a good zoo, very big (too much to see in the few hours we had allocated) and mostly modern, especially a natural history education centre in the middle that had live exhibits. The photo of the day is a pair of tamarins. I stood at the window trying to see them when one came and sat on the window sill and chittered at me. I called Boff over and as he bent down to take a photo another came along...

We ate dinner at a place called The Owl House, whose menu promised some authentic Hungarian cuisine. Yes, there was goulash and paprikash involved. They played George Michael's 'Ladies & Gentlemen' right the way through.

We took the night train to Bratislava. It turned out that I'd forgotten to get my Eurail pass stamped so I had to pay for a ticket from Budapest to the Slovakian border, then a Slovak inspector charged me from the border to Bratislava. We had nice carriage of passengers, a Czech businessman, a young Hungarian couple on their way to Berlin who helped us with the militant Hungarian ticket inspector, and a Canadian lady called Kathleen who ended up travelling with us to Poprad-Tatry.

Boff, Kathleen and I switched trains at Bratislava (I got my pass stamped at the station) and ended up in a crowded carriage of dodgy-looking Slavic men and found it very difficult to sleep for the four-hour journey.

26 July, 2012

Red, red, red





25th July 2012 (Budapest, Hungary)
Boff and I walked up Andrassy and Kirily Ave trying to find the Heroes' Park but it turned out we were going the wrong way (I take no responsibility for this, he has been here two days and I also had a defective map) so we ended up in the castle district, which was fine because that's where I wanted to go.

Did the usual touristy things up there, Matthias Church and the castle walls where there are great views of the city and the Danube. When I visited Vienna in 2005 I couldn't get the bloody Blue Danube tune out of my head and it started up again here. As with Vienna, the Danube is not blue here either.

Had lunch at the famous New York Cafe. Food was quite good but the drinks were astronomically priced, and we just had water! (It was A$10  equivalent for a 750ml bottle.)

Photo of the day is me at Memento Park, which is an outdoor sculpture park where all the Communist era monuments have been collected to remind Hungarians (and visitors) of communism's brutal history.

25 July, 2012

In transit

Schiphol Airport, 09.52

I write this mostly because I can't figure out if there's any free internet here. Boff's post about Schiphol suggested there was but the only network my BlackBerry and my MacBook want to hook up to costs 3e/15 minutes, which is not a very good deal to me, no matter how desperate I am to Tweet about the various mishaps that I've endured since leaving Sydney oh, about a day and a half ago.

Where should I begin? Maybe with my last minute decision to wash my hair. Well, it wasn't a last minute decision as I'd originally planned to wash my hair before my flight but it turned out that waking up at 6am after 3.5 hours sleep makes me much slower than I anticipated and I was still trying to find my new tiny towel while shovelling a breakfast of oat porridge down my gob and brewing a coffee. The coffee, as a result, was shite so I ended up throwing it out but I still had to wash everything, including the grainy plunger. I can't remember whether I locked the bathroom window, either. Just have to risk being burgled. Not that we have very much for people to steal anyway as I obviously have my Macbook in tow. Should have maybe hid my heirloom jewellery?

Anyway, I'd planned to catch the 6.57am train from Ashfield to the airport, the one that goes around the city circle and then magically turns into an Airport Line train. Ha! I ended up leaving on a 7.32am train (not late by any means, but with not a lot of contingency to play with), getting to the check-in counter around quarter past 8 and just bang, bang, bang, customs (long line), security and then walking to the gate. After all that I didn't have very long to wait, even with the 30-minute (not very well communicated) delay.

I'd realised in the check-in line that I'd only managed to bring my China Southern flight tickets (ie Sydney-Guangzhou-Amsterdam and return) and had neglected to print out my LOT flight tickets (ie Amsterdam-Warsaw-Budapest). A quick bit of thinking had me log onto the free wifi and mail it to my phone so at least I had an accessible copy. (Turns out it didn't matter: the check-in process mostly involved scanning my passport and typing the name of my destination but it is still nice to have the itinerary for reference.)

Flight to Guangzhou was uneventful. I managed to score a two-seater for myself, which was cool, though since it was a day flight I don't think I used it very well. They had the old style screens from the ceiling setup, except even worse: the screens were only suspended from the middle aisle and I was in such a position that the closest one to me was at a bad angle and the next one down was too far away for me to read subtitles. I ended up reading and sleeping mostly.

Baiyun Airport was a stupid place that I never want to get stuck at for six hours again. The internet was activated by Chinese mobile only (hey airports, just letting you know that I don't expect free wifi everywhere, just reasonably priced, easily accessed wifi—is that too much to ask? Even Sydney managed a free version and goodness knows how backwards we can be.)

Then I thought it was really nice that they provided drinking water at a couple of stations. Except there was no cold drinking water, just 50C+ water.

Frederic Chopin Airport, 17.04

The clock on my Mac suggests I've been travelling for more than 39 hours now. I can tell you I'm bloody sick of airports and sitting around in aircraft. My health may be on the wane as well, can't tell you how many times I've been in the vicinity of a cougher or sneezer, then add the dubious nutritional value of airplane food (and my even more dubious choice of eating chocolate, drinking coffee and having dessert in between at airports) and the sedentary nature of waiting around at airports and sitting on planes and you have several recipes for disaster, not to mention deep vein thrombosis.

Flight from Amsterdam to Warsaw was uneventful. I sat next to a green-haired Polish girl, finished reading the June/July issue of Esquire (USA) and napped for a bit. They served lunch, a sesame roll with tuna, pickle and corn, which was actually quite nice, and a chocolate-covered wafer. The flight attendant was cute, a chubby Polish guy with dimples and an infectious friendliness.

Thus far I have spent my time at Chopin walking the length of the departure hall and the retail precinct looking for interesting things and finding none. The hall is quite long, maybe a kilometre in length and separated from most of the retail outlets (except a few cafes) by a walled corridor, which I find a bit strange.

I also bought (and ate, unfortunately) a 100g block of apple/plum chocolate, which was totally nice and which I would certainly purchase again when we are back in Poland probably for cheaper in the supermarket.

The exchange rate is about three zloty to one Australian dollar, which seems to go far for some things but not others. For example, internet at the kiosk is ZL1 (33c) for 7.5 minutes, although when I tried the only working kiosk the coin wouldn't go down the slot. I rescued it with a bent bit of cardboard and tried again only to lose it completely and not get any internet time for my trouble. Comparatively, I just paid ZL29.80 ie $10 for a medium (400ml) caramel latte and a rocky road cookie.

But then I texted Boff from a payphone to his Greek number for ZL0.70 (25c). At that point I'd dropped my phone case, as I often do, and was just walking back to retrieve it when two armed soldiers happened upon in and was examining it quizzically. I had to explain it was my phone case.

Everyone here speaks English straight off the bat to me, which is a change from Chinese flight attendants assuming I can speak Mandarin/Cantonese. However, it is bad for being able to pick up some Polish before we come here next week. All I've managed to remember is tak (yes), nie (no) and jen-shoo-yah (have no idea how to spell it, means 'thank you'). Need to do a crash course in Hungarian on the plane. o_0

02 July, 2012

Thoughts on the Sydney Film Festival

I was supposed to go camping on the Saturday and Sunday of the June long weekend so I cut back my Sydney Film Festival sessions to a Flexipass10 (usually I buy a Flexipass20 or 30 and watch 15-20 films and share the rest). Of course I knew that watching fewer films meant any 'bad' films would comprise a higher ratio of the overall selection and skew my impression of the festival as a whole. But even though I had to skip a few on my shortlist due to clashing schedules and other commitments, I was fairly confident of my choices because the last few years I seem to have picked films I've liked fairly universally.

So, how was it?

Here's are some short reviews (some spoilers—beware!):

NEIGHBOURING SOUNDS

Blurb: In this assured and astonishing feature-film debut, life in a middle-class neighbourhood in present-day Recife, Brazil, takes an unexpected turn after the arrival of an independent private-security firm. 

I gave it 4 out of 5 stars and surprised myself by awarding it that highly. In this 'slice of life' film, narrative plays a loose second to character. All the characters and the roles they play in the neighbourhood show the dynamic and culture of the street but there is simply not enough here to be more than a sketch of a film. We have a bored housewife, a bored building manager and his grandfather, a bored property magnate, and the families and ancillary characters that encircle them threatening, but never quite managing, to carve some sort of narrative arc.

Top marks go to mood and for the artful elevation of the neighbourhood into a character of its own. I suspect I gave one more star than it deserved because I have a soft spot for the underlying theme, the interconnectedness of all things.


POSTCARDS FROM THE ZOO

Blurb: Maverick Indonesian director Edwin creates a dreamlike world in this story about a girl raised in a zoo whose life changes when she meets a handsome cowboy with magical powers.


I gave it 3 out of 5 stars, one for the mention of 'postcard', one for the mention of 'zoo' and another for having a character best described as 'handsome cowboy with magical powers'. This film shows what happens when tight magical realism unravels into a 'then this happened' kind of story. The first thing that happens is a really cute little girl wanders around the zoo at night looking for her father. It's never explained how she was left behind. She finds an encampment of unofficial zoo workers and we accept that she grows up at the zoo as an unofficial guide before following said magical cowboy into the 'real world' as his assistant. During practice of a disappearing trick, he literally disappears and she gets a job as a masseuse in a shady parlour down the road.

I think Edwin was trying to hard to convey the parallels between this innocent girl and the captive animals that she loves so much. There's a sense of exploitation at both the zoo and the parlour, and even the cowboy's employment of her as his assistant. The reason it doesn't work is that he's trying to cram too many surreal moments into a fairly weak narrative and these quirks jolt us into realising there are too many unanswered questions, enough to make us distrust the quivery story. However, the lead actress was likeable and I love zoos so I'll stick with the rating.


L

Blurb: Drolly funny Greek 'Weird Wave' film about a driver, referred to as the Man, who lives and works in his car and spends all his time sourcing the finest honey for a narcoleptic—occasionally meeting his wife and children in a carpark.


I gave it 2 out of 5 stars. The theme of disconnection and connection is quite strong, coming through in the set-up of the Man living in his car and then, after he loses his honey-couriering job, joining a motorcycle gang. Meeting his estranged wife and children is also a recurring motif, as is dreaming about a dead friend who appears in the film as a man pretending to be a bear.

There's quite a bit of WTF?! in this film and in some weird way I do care about the Man, but the piecemeal story was too alienating for me to truly like it. At the end, all I could think was 'that was it?'


LOVE LASTS THREE YEARS

Blurb: This charming comedy follows the misadventures of a literary critic who meets an irresistible and inaccessible beauty and tries to hide the fact that he wrote a cynical bestseller denouncing love.

I gave it 4 out of 5 stars for its tight script, well-cast characters and real laughs. It was also a beautiful film with some excellent cinematographic choices, which is unusual for a comedy. The script plays for laughs on three levels: there is farce, there is slapstick but there is also plenty of clever wordplay (the main character is a literary critic, after all). Our protagonist is a likeable but self-absorbed rogue who is too smart for his own good but with whom we empathise in his quest to understand love after he's jilted by his wife and falls for his cousin's spouse.

There's no Hollywood ending here; although he gets the girl, he doesn't 'learn a lesson' about himself or about love, but in the meantime we do. Sort of. At least we laugh at what we think we understand, which is far more important in a film that bills itself as a comedy.



BEASTS OF THE SOUTHERN WILD

Blurb: A Sundance and Cannes prize winner, this unforgettable feature-film debut is set in a defiant bayou community cut off from the rest of the world, as icebergs melt and prehistoric creatures descend.

I gave it 5 out of 5 stars for its heartbreaking beauty, vitality and indomitable spirit. This is magical realism at its best: grounded enough in reality for us to understand and care for these fringe characters who dwell in poverty but are otherwise happy, but wondrous enough to open our eyes to the world that they see for themselves, a sparkling, carefree future. The theme of freedom was as tearaway as the main character Hushpuppy and lingered long after the closing shot.



DEATH OF A JAPANESE SALESMAN

Blurb: The last months in the life of recently retired Japanese businessman as recorded by his filmmaker daughter: a surprisingly funny and immensely moving documentary.

I gave it 3 out of 5 stars but on second thoughts it should probably have one more (which I will take from 'Neighbouring Sounds'...). This film is incredibly droll for a doco about death and much of that comes from the filmmaker's well-scripted voiceover as she speaks as her father. An example: "That's my youngest daughter. She should stop following me around with a camera and find a husband." However, in some ways this makes the accompanying image lose some intimacy.

The scenes were well chosen, representing the traits of both her father and the wider family, while keeping to the thread of his preparation for death. It's amazing that throughout this doco we are prepared for his death and yet feel it so acutely when he does pass. I bawled my eyes out.


PINK RIBBONS, INC

Blurb: Provocative documentary that exposes problems with the ubiquitous pink-themed corporate fundraising for breast cancer research.

I gave it 5 out of 5 stars. For everyone who has ever been annoyed at how pervasive pink is during Breast Cancer Awareness Month, how entwined pink is with breast cancer, and suspicious about where all the money really goes, this doco is for you.

First of all, this is a brilliant film to see if you are interested in how to market a disease. 'Pink Ribbons, Inc' deals with the corporatisation of breast cancer and how it shapes the way we think about charities and medical research. But beyond that, it looks at some of the hypocrisies in the Pink Ribbon campaign (e.g. companies that sell carcinogenic products sponsoring Pink Ribbon events) and the gaps in where the funding goes (too much towards research to find a cure and not enough towards investigating causes).

While presented as a stock standard doco (talking head cut to Pink Ribbon event cut to animated graphic cut to talking head), it doesn't push a cynical view but fairly even handedly allows its interviewees to say what they need to say. Any cynicism comes from the audience's perception of that interviewee. Really made me think not just about Pink Ribbons but charity marketing as a whole.




ONCE UPON A TIME IN ANATOLIA

Blurb: Turkish master Nuri Bilge Ceylan takes on the police procedural, and the result is a beautifully layered narrative in which every line of dialogue contributes to solving the puzzle.

I gave it 3 out of 5 stars, all for cinematography. The blurb lies: there is no puzzle, just long lingering shots of the Turkish countryside and a seemingly neverending night in which a team of police staff attempt to find the body of a murder victim using the testimony of a prisoner who has confessed to the crime.

This is a beautiful-looking film, badly made. I understand the Ceylan is trying to make us feel like the characters who must endure the long night, but all of that could've easily been rectified with an injection of narrative. By the end of it I didn't care for any of the characters, what they did or did not do, nor the murder victim, nor the prisoner. The 'twist' is more like a clumsy reveal that loses its meaning in the weak ending.


ALPS

Blurb: The team behind Greek 'Weird Wave' films Dogtooth and Attenberg return with the absurd tale of a secret club whose members are paid to act as replacements for the recently deceased.  

I gave it 2 out of 5 stars and was incredulous when I found out it had won the 2012 Sydney Film Festival Official Competition prize. Granted I came into the session at least 20 minutes late and may have missed some of the crucial setup, I mustered no sympathy for any of the characters and what should've been a compelling premise fell flat in every scene due to the thick layer of contrivance to be weird.

The addictive nature of the club's activities was the strongest part of the film and that was well played throughout, but the dynamic between the characters was stilted and the dialogue (albeit deliberately in some scenes) even more so.


A SIMPLE LIFE

Blurb: With perfect performances from Andy Lau and Deanie Ip, Ann Hui's moving film looks at the decades-long relationship between a man and a devoted family servant who suffers a stroke. 

I gave it 4 out of 5 stars. This film surprised me as I didn't expect to like it so much. Apart from being a touching story, the blurb was right about the perfect performances: for a sentimental story it was emotionally restrained and well played. It was also surprisingly humorous with some light touches that didn't feel inserted. The theme of family and belonging was very clear and although I didn't bawl my eyes as in 'Death of a Japanese Salesman', I did shed a tear for aunty when she passed, yet I was happy that she had found true friendship with her ward before she did.


OVERALL
Aesthetically this was one of the best film festivals I've experienced for cinematography, so I gave it plenty of points for beauty. For a festival that touted the slogan 'One festival, infinite stories', however, there was a distinct lack of narrative in many of the films I watched, which was disappointing from both an expectation level and an enjoyment level.

I watch films because they have a beginning, middle and end. The good ones make me think and are enjoyable to watch, the bad ones at least end. All these 'slice of life' films and movies with weak endings just make me feel like I've wasted my time. I mean, if you're not going to provide closure, all you're doing is setting me up for disappointment because hell, as a filmmaker, you have to give me enough plot, character, setting so I can construct something worthwhile for the time and money I've afforded you.

I can get a good plot from a book, I can get good characters from TV, I can get good settings from my travels: only in cinema do these three elements combine in an optimal way to become art. Unfortunately in the 2012 Sydney Film Festival there were too many parts missing for the films to really soar.