Carthage Film Festival

Congratulations to the good folks at Carthage Film Festival.  What an amazing feat for hosting this festival since 1966!  I'm curious to know if Woody Allen, Zang Lu, Ken Loach, and Brian de Palma will only be screening their films, or if they are actually in competition for the Golden Tanit.  If they are only screening their material, I applaude them because they are all such wonderful filmmakers.

If in fact they are in competition, doesn't the festival's business statement say that, in order to be eligible for competition, a film must have a director of African or Middle Eastern nationality?  Wouldn't that make Woody Allen (born in Brooklyn, New York), Zang Lu (Unknow), Ken Loach (born in Nuneaton, Warwichshire, England) , and Brian de Palma (born in New Jersey) all ineligible to receive the grand jury prize?  I would love for someone to comment back.

Have a great weekend!

JP2

I got a lot of flack for being enthusiastic about 'Vicky Christina Barcelona', but each of the characters captured either one of my many 'selves' or those of folks near to me...  usually don't like Woodie Allen flicks (except maybe Bananas) so I was shocked when I discovered the film I'd watched was his!

More about film festivals later (it's 1:05 a.m. and I'm only here because I hate 'missing stuff' by being as asleep -- so I sometimes extend my nocturnal 'bathroom breaks, blah, blah, blah).

Nationality is a difficult thing. Remember Mrs. Heinz-Kerry's frequent claim to be an African American?

I knew a young man whose father was Algerian and whose single mom is from Massachusettes.  (She's a technical translator who met his father, an engineer, in Algeria while working there on a natural gas project.).  He applied for an 'Afro-American' scholarship to the University of Houston.  Unfortunately, the folks running the program were apparently unaware that non-Bantu folks live in Africa, so he was summarily denied the scholarship because he was obviously not 'Afican -American'.  I've often wondered whether white farmers from Zimbabwe or fifth-generation Boers from Pretoria would have said if someone told they were not African enough.

That said, I wonder how many Texans -- hearing the word 'Carthage' -- don't bring up an image of the road from Houston to Shreveport, Louisiana, filled with the pine trees that fill Panola County...  [I suspect Paris doesn't have any film festivals either -- Paris, Texas that is....]

Doc,

In recent years, Woody Allen has been going in a very different direction from that of his classics.  I did not come to appreciate his work until I came to New York because the city truly is the star of every one of his films.  I'm always surprised when people who've never been here say they like his work and it doesn't happen too often.

But, recently, Allen has been filming serious crime stories in the U.K.  Cassandra's Dream and, before it, Match Point bear absolutely none of the old Allen trade marks and, like your experience with Vicky Cristina Barcelona, you would never know they were his work if you didn't see his name on the credits.  This is a new leaf if ever there was one.

jpeterman2,

Was also curious whether Allen and Co. would be competing. Looked up the link in article.

http://www.jccarthage.org/

Allen is listed under "Cinemas du Monde," and not under "Competition Officielle."

Considering the end of the article implies that the festival is getting/has gotten away from its "militant" reputation, I imagine the screening of directors from other nationalities is part of that attempt.

The fact that they are not competing may imply that they haven't completely broken with that sentiment, though.

I currently have William A. Henry III's _IN Defense of Elitism_ on my night stand. Very bold and scary title, but very interesting in content.

It logically teases out the issue of open competition vs. holding some back, to make things 'fair.' Which is more demeaning?

Also, don't cultural differences make it hard to mix the art of different cultures? Just think of the vast differences in British and American humor.

Tough issue.

On a lighter note, the director who is shooting our trip thinks he IS Allen. So do I. I've called him four times this week. Each time he was at the doctor having something different 'checked out.' The fifth call found him at the Mac Store having his editing software 'checked out.' He's only 26. I really hope that's a good sign for the project. Am a bit nervous.

M.I.

Film festivals are always good. We're currently enjoying the Hot Springs Documentary Film Festival there in beautiful downtown HS Ark, in the incrementally-restored old Malco Theatre, which is pleasantly seedy and art-deco, as most maisons du cinema used to be. I'm currently missing a great show, so I plan to dander down the highway later and take in a few docs. North Africa is a bit too far, so I'll have to make do with our version, not all that different (as Samuel Johnson said in reference to a recently deceased Jamaican gentleman of his acquaintance), I believe, either in the climate or the company.

My dog park friend, Beth Matter, lost a big bet and was obliged to take her brother, "Fecal, " with her to France.

Beth, without French, found no trouble in communicating and it seemed pointless to suggest that being young and beautiful had probably helped.

I won't spend much time detailing the many ways that Feek can make himself disagreeable except to say that I have seen persons who would rather die than be thought rude, treat him cruelly without remorse.

At a small restaurant, near where they stayed, he offended two black couples by arguing: "Are you stupid? Of course you're African American."

Not satisfied, he grabbed a baguette with an eye to waltzing it around in some pan drippings in the kitchen.

When he failed to return, Beth caught the attention of a nervous waiter. He hesitatingly explained that he was sorry but: "Madame has trow heem een reever."

Sure enough, around front a small crowd had gathered at the wall to watch him struggle upstream to the stairs at waters edge.

Some kids from Charlotte had caught it on tape and, in the end, her grandfather came across with his end of the wager, an old Marlin Perkins Land Rover, on the premise that she, having brought her brother home alive, had earned it fair and square.

Stoney, that is a marvelous and totally surreal offering. Thanks!

PS-When one can't speak the language, a pointing finger can do wonders, applied judiciously...

Stoney,

You have inspired me to buy a dog so I can walk him in the park that is but a house and a church away from me, so I too can meet such interesting people and hear their stories.  Better yet, I'll just get a trick leash with a collar attached to the end . . .  which should attract some pretty interesting tales.

Enjoyed your tale today.  Had to put on another pot of coffee.

Be well and watch out for falling leaves.

PeterLake....just had to tell you I love your new avatar!

La Donna,

Thanks

I just wanted to show off my recent dental work.  Its trick or treat in our downtown today.

Petey baby-that's SCARY!

Oh, and Stoney-I totally forgot...

I hope the river mentioned in your story wasn't the Seine. The last person I read about who was immersed in said foul waterway, an overconfident Paris mayor who wanted to demonstrate to a skeptical populace that the maligned riviere wasn't all that bad, died after swallowing some of the water during a swim. That was years ago, and the current mayor is now establishing piscines (swimming pools) along the river, so I trust things have improved, but opinion is divided...

Okay, is it too much to hope that SOMEDAY we'll be able to single-space return, and maybe even post pictures here? I found a totally cool pic of the cover of an old French mag on the Seine's pollution. Here's the link.

http://www.mediastorehouse.com/pictures_598672/THE-POLLUTED-SEINE.html

I know, TOTALLY off-topic, but when did that ever stop ANY of us?

Olivia,
Thanks. They were somewhere in Normandy and she has written marvelously about the food.

PeterLake,
The problem with the leash and collar deal is that its doglessness notwithstanding,
I guarantee, within a month, someone would ask: "What're you feeding? He's lookin' a little heavy."
Very awkward.
Mind how you go

BTW I could not presently tell you today's topic for money.

Films, I think.

Now I'll pop into my 'way-back machine' and tell a film story from my muddy past.  Setting: Rural Thailand (dirt paths, no roads really, villages without wells or electricity).  Time:  Just before sunset during the dry season (really dry since there was a drought going on). Characters: (oh,yes, definitely characters!  'The Captain' and moi).  

Banging along in a jeep that looked like something out of the Mash series (I was a bit like Radar then).  We passed women out 'taking a walk', that is walking miles to get water out of a dirty pond the carry back to the village.  Dust everywhere.  And carefully stowed: Portable generator, movie projector, and a couple of 'cans' filled with celluloid.  Mission:  Make friends with the locals...  

And that we did!  No Thai government official had ever set place in the fly-speck clumps of huts we visited.  My job was to pull out the screen (a sheet swiped I think from the infirmary) and tie it up between a couple of trees; then to lay out the wires from the generator; and finally to figure out what bush or obstruction would (partially) block the noise of the generator.  (That technology seems stuck in first gear, since they still make the same noise!)

Word travels fast in small towns (heh, heh), and the under five-year-old kids were always the first to dash off in every direction to get their friends.  Nervous-looking moms and dads would suspiciously eye us from a distance, but gather nonetheless.  Of course, the village chief would barge up to the front and greet us (making political points too).  And the old people would stand far back, staring silently.

The villages didn't have electricity, but it seemed every family had a flashlight.  Out in the distance, as the dark gradually set in, you could see the bobbing lights in the twilight.  All headed our way.  And eventually it was (almost) time for the movies to start.  Of course the village chief would (I guess) thank us for coming (my Thai was limited to counting and flirting).  And The Captain would make some remarks (his Thai was bad, but it didn't seem to matter if no one could understand much of what he said).  And then --- the show would start!

I don't remember much about the films, which were mostly about public health.   One however, using a lot of cartoon graphics, made it clear that if one were to build a well, it was best to dig it on the opposite side of the village from the latrine.  (I'm not sure anyone actually had a latrine, frankly, since one of the hazards of Thailand was the practice of using human waste as fertilizer, but that's another story.)  The kids were the ones having a ball.... you could have showed a game of 'pong' (not yet invented) and they would have enjoyed the evening.  WE SAW A MOVIE!  That was the thrill -- content was irrelevant! Heh, heh.  I lurked in the back, trying to block some of the generator roar with my body (never enough bushes around....).  I just sucked up the enthusiasm and thought, 'Wow, no one else on base will have this kind of a memory!'

So, there is my 'film festival' story.

I checked Google Earth the other day and discovered all those villages have now been enveloped by the suburban sprawl of Nakhon Ratchasima.  I'll never see any of those folks again.  I like to think there are a few middle age Thai guys who now reminisce sometimes: 'Hey, do you remember the old days when those Americans came out the the village and showed movies?' 'Oh, yeah, that was so cool!"

Yeah, it WAS cool!

Doc Nolan,

I should say!

I don't know about The Boss but my Honor Roll is now complete.

Doc,

I'll second Stoney's nomination.  What a great tale.  

There's nothing like seeing things through the eyes of a child to knock the pretense off of things. 

Thanks for taking us on your adventure.

Doc Nolan, What an interesting experience. All in favor? Aye.

Also, if you don't mind, I wanted to know, in your opinion, if "The Myth of Sisyphus" would be a good place to begin? Thanks.

Sisyphus, Tantalus, and Cassandra -- my three favorites from mythology!  Their stories begin, but never end....

Thank you for the recommendations. I'm looking forward to 'taking a new path'.