Urania and The Illusionist via The Anilogue Film Fest

The Urania National Theatre, Rakoczi ut. 21

Today, you all get two reviews for the price of one.

  Last night, Boone, Aidan, Victor, Gabor and I met in Pest at the Urania National Theatre to view Sylvain Chomet's latest animation piece, "The Illusionist".  Both the theatre and the film were a treat for the eyes, heart, and soul.

  The Urania looks humble enough from the street. The facade offers a hint of the lavish and elegant Moorish/Art Deco design within. We arrived last night just a rain was turning to snow, the moment was a piece of fleeting and delicious anticipation...

 For inside the doors, as we scanned the room for our friends, my boys and I were met with the rich blue and gold interior foyer, walls adorned with gorgeous Islamic symmetry, seductively lit, and abuzz with the voices of film lovers from all over the world.

  Once inside, you really feel as if you are treating yourself to something very special indeed. Victor pointed out that the vibe of the place is similar to our beloved, old Crystal Theatre back in Missoula. Indeed, he was correct.  The denizens of the Urania, including us, of course, were similar to those who frequented The Crystal...bohemians, hipsters, humble art lovers of all ages.

  The Urania is truly a Hungarian national treasure and any visitor to Budapest should make a point of seeing a movie there.  The theatre features films that defy Hollywood formula and stereotype which makes it especially attractive to film buffs.

inside the theatre proper, where art lovers gather to savor  creativity

  With about fifteen minutes to spare, our little group wandered around the theatre, taking in the mood, enjoying the beauty.  The theatre boasts two concession stands, one upstairs, one down in the basement.  Coffee, soft drinks, beer and small snackables can be enjoyed here...this might remind Portland friends of the wonderful McMenamin's establishments.  The Urania has been doing it for years previous.

  After grabbing some water and chips, we headed into the screening hall, balconies surrounding, and located our assigned seats.  Within ten minutes, the curtian lifted...the screen showed about two minutes of Anilogue Film Festival information then went straight to the feature.  No agonizing trailers or relentless advertisment.

  Sylvain Chomet is a a French animator and film director.  He became fairly well known stateside for his delightful feature "The Triplets of Belleville",  a moving story of pain (physical and spiritual), perserverence, and good versus evil.  The main characters are humble, poor, dear, and an example of what is lost to society at large due to poverty and over-indulgence.

  "The Illusionist", much different that "Triplets", deals with similar themes.  Like "Triplets", there is very little dialogue, for in these films such a thing is not needed.  The movements and expressions of the characters, as well as the gorgeous imagery, say much more than words could ever do.

  The story takes place in Scotland, mostly Edinburgh, at the end of the fifties, beginning of the sixties.  An aging magician travels from France to the UK with his endearing but increasingly dated performance, complete with chubby, snapping rabbit and sleight of hand props.  He lands in Scotland at a small highland pub where a young girl becomes fascinated with him, believing that he is truly able to conjure magic.  When he leaves for Edinburgh, the girl stows away to follow him, and they end up together in an old hotel, where he basically cares for her (and she for him) among a crew of sweet but sad and washed up vaudevillians. 

  Throughout the story, it is clear that the girl continues to be convinced that the magician simply conjures up whatever they need, whatever she wants.  She is an endearing innocent, who truly loves the fatherly old man, and he does his best to preserve that innocence, through whatever means necessary.

  It soon becomes apparent that the illusion of their friendship, of what the girl feels is real, must fall away due to inevitable change.  He watches this change unfold, worldy-wise as he is. Even as she experiences the change, she seems to pass through it, unaware of what is happening. 

  Gabor offered the perfect word to describe the ending of this film, and really, the mood of the entire piece..."Bittersweet."

  Not only is "The Illusionist" a wonderful story, whose original screenplay was written by the venerable French comic, Jaques Tati (and who the character of the magician is based), the animation is rich, emotional, evocative, absolutely gorgeous.  The scenes in Edinburgh fairly tug at the heart for their beauty (Gabor said the depiction is quite accurate).  The final scenes in a particular...a book left in a moonlit room, the shadow of its pages,  ruffled by the wind,  printed upon a wall, white rabbits hopping contentedly atop a green cliff with Edinburgh in the background, the girl and her new friend, shielding themselves from the oncoming rain with the beautiful coat the magician has given her, walking against a crowd of umbrellas....are the ones I will carry in my memory for years to come.

  Do treat yourself to "The Illusionist".  In this day of soulless computer animation. films like this provide the perfect tonic to the formulaic, predictable, thoughtless tripe that Hollywood continues to regurgitate. x

 

SuperGranny

This post is devoted to creativity and how it can not only bring joy to our loved ones but also to the creative world in general.
  The link to the blog which featured these delightful photos, entitled "Mamika", does a beautiful job of  relating the back story leading up to the photo session.  I will just say this...Frederika is indeed a super woman and her dignity and beautiful complexity shine throughout this series.  Please, you owe it to yourself to click the link and enjoy! x
www.mymodernmet.com/profiles/blogs/grandmas-superhero-therapy-18

Soundtrack of Life

basilica beats

"That echoed voice lied to me with its 'hold on, hold on, hold on hold on"...  Neko Case sings 'em, I take them to heart.  These lyrics belong to a song that is part of my precious inner soundtrack, the music I brought along to Budapest, which continues to shape the way I perceive this city.  

  The following is my mixed tape of songs that have been with me, heart and soul, as I continue to get around here in among the blocks and beyond  .... a current top twenty.

She Cries Your Name- Beth Orton

Seaweed-the Gits

Super Stupid-Funkadelic

Portland, Oregon-Jack Black and Loretta Lynn

I'll Keep On Holding On-The Action

Madonna of The Wasps-Robyn Hitchcock

Now I Wonder Why-The Church

Keep The Streets Empty For Me-Fever Ray

Shake Some Action-The Flamin' Groovies

Janelle Monae-Cold War

Daniel Johnston-Held The Hand

For Real-Okkervil River

Smokin' Daddy-Freakwater

Honeychild, What Can I Do-Isobel Campbell and Mark Lanegan

Rise Up With Fists-Jenny Lewis With The Watson Twins

The Rover-Led  Zeppelin

Goddess on a Highway-Mercury Rev

It's A Fire-Portishead

Calvary Cross-Richard and Linda Thompson

Don't Let The Sun Go Down on Your Grievances-Daniel Johnston

Budapest Grotesques

Szechenyi Fűrdő

Somewhere between the animation aesthetic of Robert Crumb and Chuck Jones lies the art of Marcus Goldson.  His work depicts with absurd glee the people, lives, and loves of Budapest.

  So much of the appeal lies not necessarily in the skill of his work, although Goldson's skill is more than ample.  This artist has a keen eye for detail, the kind of detail that sets the quirks of this city apart from any other European capitol.  And while this city is thoroughly European, it is also distinctly Hungarian,

naturally, and Goldson, while sketching out these peculiarities with an obvious adoration of Budapest, holds nothing back in his depictions.  Consider the picture above.... not only is this man much too massive for his tiny banana hammock, but he has also made sure that he will not run out of that ubiquitous Hungarian brew, Dreher. The spirit of this piece rings absolutely true to a certain slice of Budapest culture, and it is depicted with such perfect, loving humor.

Anyone who frequently patronizes public transportation in BP has definitely seen a version or two of the three grande dames depicted above.  There is a sort of over the top elegance that many of the communist generation possess.  One sees these ladies and suddenly realizes where Zsa Zsa Gabor comes from!  These three remind me of a vivid, aged version of the Three Fates.

 So much is going on in the picture above...obviously.  But this pic is chock full of commentary as well.  Beginning with the bottom left hand corner....this piece is apparently supposed to be presented from the view of the guy lighting up. Smoking is a given in Budapest. Better get used to it.  Some public places offer separate smoking sections and even fewer forbid it altogether, but, smoking is seemingly a national past time.  I think the people, in general, are so intense they need a cig every now and then just to calm their minds down, to be able to focus.

  The smoker has on his table the ever present blackberryish device which says in the window SZIA..."szia" is a casual way of saying either hello or goodbye to friends.  It is used when cooing at cute animals as well.  Cosmo hears it all the time.

  Dogs (kutyak)  are ever present in Budapest...there are about 400,000 of them in a city of a million and a half.  Many of them seem to be incredibly street wise, particularly those who cruise the streets of Pest off-leash.  The kutya in this pic is on a leash and happily wagging his/her tail as he/she cruises along with the human, elegantly dressed in boots, of course, and a clever hat.

 Hungarians are not subtle...they speak their minds in words and actions, as this older lady, clutching a bag printed with the essential faux animal skin, is demonstrating.  Her wine bottle, headed for the drunk who has been marinating in Dreher and has not yet completed the process, barely misses it's mark but sends a painfully clear message....don't fuck with me, sonny.  Her dog appears to be floating like a balloon above a Turkish shopkeeper as the couple in the balcony glare at the action below.

  Flesh is out and proud in BP, regardless of physical shape or condition.  I like that...and the woman shopkeeper in the picture is letting it all hang out.  Got boobs?  Flaunt them, by god, even if your back has boobs too!

   Check out the irreverent art of Marcus Goldson at his website...his talents are not limited to BP alone.  He creates wonderful city scapes and pictorals from all over the world.  Szia! x       http://www.marcusgoldson.co.uk/

Down Around Batthyany Ter and Back up The Castle

street art intrigue, Batthyany Ter

I was down at Batthyany Ter the other evening...nothing unusual about this, I'm there quite often.  BT is the main public transportation hub in Buda, the other being Moskva Ter, on the other side of the castle.  My cousin and his wife are in town and as we took the sneaky stair path from BT up to the castle, we were inspired to snap some photos in and around the ter (square).  Here are mine....have a look. x

golden home, first flight

looking down from a flight or two upstairs

 old man, carefully sorting papers of some kind, looking like a sculpture, halfway up 

rosy dusk, up in the castle

Hungaricum Via SF MoMA

Eva, pursued by the camera

My friend Dean has an excellent blog devoted to his city, San Francisco, and its gorgeous peculiarities.  Currently showing at SF Museum of Modern Art is a film issued by John Lennon and Yoko Ono called Rape (with a Camera). A young Hungarian woman named Eva is featured in this film.  I will say nothing more.  If you are intrigued, please follow this link, you will be so glad you did. x  btw, just wave the cursor over the bottom of this post and the link will reveal itself....
 http://fleetinghouse.blogspot.com/2010/11/eva-majlata-1968.html#links

Dreamscape

Hawthorne Boulevard, as seen from Mt. Tabor, active cindercone

I have an incredibly active dream life...I work all kinds of things out in my dreams. My sense of place is extremely sensitive and this sense is only heightened within my dreams.  

  When I moved to Portland, Oregon three years ago, the city set itself up distinctly in my dreams.  Dream Portland was easy to identify...bridges, bikes, and green.  Real Portland felt like home immediately and Dream Portland was a place of refuge during my nightly adventures.

  Now that I live in Budapest, this city has not fully revealed itself to me in my dreamscape...Dream Budapest is a collection of exaggerated snippets from Real BP....tiny shops in which no one speaks English, art nouveau buildings of my brain's design, a circular Metro station, etc.  I actually do dream a bit in Magyar.  

  In my dreams, I am sometimes visiting Portland, which seems to be right next door to Budapest (or through some looking glass or behind some barrier).  

   The other night, after not hearing from her for weeks, I dreamt about my friend Stacey.   The week before, I had spent some time in Dream Portland looking for her, trying to call her, always missing her. I needed to see my cat, Zissou, who is staying with her while I am away, and I needed to know how she was doing.  Very frustrating, and dream frustration makes me very emotional.

  I finally received a nice, long email from her.  She described how much she missed me, how she was bonding with  Zissou, and how much comfort he gave her.  It made me feel so much better.

  That night I visited Dream Portland again, this time went straight to her house, gave her a big hug, and picked up my kitty and held him for a long time.  Oddly enough, she lived just next to Óbuda...I could see the city's pastel storefronts from outside her living room window.  From her back yard, I could see the ampitheater....but we were nonethe less squarely  in Portland.

  My two cities have become one within the infrastructure of my dreamscape....will  Dream Budapest ever secede and come to full fruition within my dreams?  I'll let you know later....I'm getting sleepy....zzzzzz  x

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Treehugger Dan's

 This evening, I walked across Margit Hid (Margit Bridge), with my buddy Debra, in my black shit-kickers, into Pest, to hang out at Treehugger Dan's Bookstore and Cafe.  Dan's sells used  books printed in English, sells his own brand of fair-trade coffee, and hosts music and art shows at his shops.

   I have been to Dan's tiny store on Csengery Ut and instantly felt at home among the piles and piles of tomes, all reeking of that heady, old book smell.  That scent, mixed with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee spiked with notes of black and herbal tea, is one of my favorites...so comforting, so absolutely right. I recently went there with Debra to check  out a small but impressive showing of colorful photos from the Middle East and came away with three old National Geographics and a new (to me) novel that I will start after I finish my current read.  One always needs a back up.

  I did not know until recently that Dan had another shop on Lazar Ut, this one much bigger, big enough to house a bar and a smallish music venue.

  Debra and I have an earnest desire to find a home, our tribe so to speak. We found it at Treehugger's Lazar location, humbly tucked into the narrow cobblestone street, amongst the expats (British, German, American, Middle Eastern, etc.) and the Hungarians who love them.  
 I had read a tiny bit about the band featured this evening, a group of three incredibly talented young men, wielding nothing but three guitars and a small gift box used for percussion, who call themselves Random Chocolates. God, I love lo-fi creativity. They performed a delightful mixture of  original and cover tunes in an intimate and vibrant setting....acoustic versions of Led Zeppelin, Smashing Pumpkins and their own gorgeous compositions.
  Deb whispered to me, a few minutes into the first set, "I think we've found our home."
  Yes, indeed.

Greatest Hits

Szentendre mannequin: she has nice boobs, but she looks a bit high maintenence

Seriously, folks, I have been writing furiously for the past couple of weeks...it is not, however, evident here on The Duna Din.  I've been polishing up short stories, sketching out new ones, and also composing a blog post for the Din on Hungarian politics...no short order, says I.

  I do not want to neglect the Din, however, so I am going to publish a flurry of photos depicting some of my favorite, most exquisite moments here in Budapest. A visual mixed tape of moments. A veritable puff post.  Enjoy and stay tuned for Hungarian Civics 101! x

  SURREAL SZENTENDRE

Flipping off the tourists

path to parts unknown

Aidan  looking over the church wall down on the streets of Szentendre

Szentendre is a sweet little village north of Óbuda that sits on the Danube Bend.  We recently spent an overcast day wandering around its cobblestone streets, admiring the many clock towers and soaring churches.  What I loved most about Szentendre, home of the marzipan museum, was its subtle surreal quality.  Lots of humor to be found here among the funky little shops and tourists from every corner of the globe.  Enjoy this sampling of pictures from Szentendre.


Among the many roccoco churches in Szentendre, the Serbian Orthodox church is perhaps the most rambling and contempletive. This picture of the graffiti was taken within its walls.  If there were no grafitti, one might not know one was in Hungary!

Grafitti on the church wall

This photo was also taken within the Serbian Orthodox compound.  I'm very drawn to crucifixes however agnostic and unwashed I am!

Our Savior of the Chestnut Tree

The Russian Orthodox Church was a bit smaller but exuded much more solemn gravity...Russian liturgies, engraved upon stone slabs which hang upon every exterior wall of the church, were punctuated by skull and crossbone motifs.  A warning of hell's fire or an acceptance of life's impermanence?

this skull seems to be distracted

Szentendre is indeed quite touristy but it is anything but tacky.  No wax museums, space needles or colored fountains to be found there.  What can be found is a charming collection of shops that offer anything from local ceramic ware to tapestries and clothing embellished with fanciful and painstaking embroidery.  A one such shop, I found a "souvenir" that I could not buy let alone schlepp it home in a shopping bag....it was a timber round floor of unknown age and rustic elegance, polished to a muted gleam.  The photo below will have to serve as my version of this souvenir and I am delighted to share it.

My friend Debra, she of the discerning, artistic eye, accompanied us on our maiden voyage to Szentendre. She came up with the simply brilliant idea of a photo collection made up of the doors of Szentendre.  There are dozens of striking, mysterious entryways in the village.  Who knows what goes on behind these closed doors?  Perhaps scenes of luxurious pomp can be found, or solemn rituals, intense conversations or just garbage, rubble and some small, dead critters.  It matters not....knock, knock, knock.....

Grafitti is ubiquitous in Budapest and the art form has definitely trickled up to sleepy Szentendre.  I'm a huge fan of well done grafitti, find it the great equalizer in the world of public art.  The building in the photo below is a night club, I believe....talk about inexpensive and highly effective branding, no?

 AIDAN


I don't know what I would do without my boy, Aidan.  He is such a swell human being and I admire him in so many ways.  He loves animals just as much as I do and the photos below demonstrate this. The first one was taken at the Budapest Zoo, the second in front of our home, the third just this afternoon after much wrestling with Cosmo, newly enlisted into the Hungarian army.  In all cases, Aidan was completely himself, at ease, and full of love for his furry companion. I wish there were more people in the world like Aidan and I feel so fortunate to have him around.

 LOOKING UP




There is so much architectural beauty in Budapest, I've almost become immune to it.  But not quite.  One could snap photos all day long and come away with dozens of images not found anywhere else. I find joy in the grand as well as the minute... the following photos trickle down from the sublime to the mundane but each possesses its own unique charm.  Each picture makes me happy in very different ways.




The photo below was taken during a service at St. István's Basillica.  Truly magnificent.

 The following photos were taken at the Grand Market in Pest....almost anything, Hungarian and beyond, can be purchased here.  Beware the crowds....

                                                          

This picture was taken the day I walked around the neighboring village, blissed out in Bekasmegyer.....plants in windowsills never fail to warm my heart.

  


  THE AUTUMN OF MY ROMAN RUINS


Aquincum was a sprawling Roman city, the northern outpost of the Empire.  The remains are just a few HEV stops from my house.  The locals do not see what the big deal is....I was thrilled to be standing amongst such antiquity.   The photos below are a few of my favorites shot that crisp, autumn day.


These are the remains of a mother and child, from the Scythian period, buried together in a shallow grave.

This is a little sculpture of a satyr...so impish and cute and in pristine condition

This photo depicts the remains of someone's home.  All that remains is the charming little planter, which still holds a tiny grouping of sedums.

I love this picture...the trees, the ruin....it was a meat market, in the center of a shopping district.

This photo is part of what remains of a Roman public bath....you can see the water stains on the pylons.

    CRAVINGS
   


The food here in Budapest is delightful, to say the least.  I've rhapsodized about the black currant juice....I can't fail to mention the sour cherry juice as well.  Finom, dragam, finom!
   My latest, greatest food hit are the light, lemony (citrom) cookies known as napolyi.  A sweet/tart smear of citrus cream between two thin cookie wafers (think waffle ice cream cone).  Such a swell treat with a spot of tea or coffee....

Below is an array of local delights, accompanied by our little rascal, Conky, of Trailer Park Boy's fame.  Gotta love a 2 liter plastic bottle of incredibly drinkable Merlot, from a respected  wine region and wine-making family, for around 1200 forint (about seven bucks).  A fine potable, accompanied by kifli (crescent rolls), kilbazs (sausage), csipos (spicy pepper), and creamy Trappista cheese.

   


That's all folks...for now. I apologize for the hasty vibe and the sloppy lay out.  Blogger is playing independent font editor, apparently, much to my chagrin.  Please return for future posts....much love. x