Beasts of the Southern Wild – Hushpuppy

Everybody – go in & see Beasts of the Southern Wild if you haven’t already! A lot of films claim to be oh so original, but this one really IS & if there is any justice in Hollywood – always debatable – it will win Best Manuscript at least; Best Director would be fair.

Cool that the title comes from English literature, not even American. It has to be from William Blake’s The Little Black Boy, not?

My mother bore me in the southern wild

And I am black, but oh, my soul is white.

That’s how an Englishman would see it anno 1830 or thereabouts. Not quite politically correct today. Doesn’t matter a scrap either. I’m just showing off because I’ve read a lot of poetry. Most moviegoers won’t have any idea where the title comes from, just that it’s a wonderful title for a wonderful film.

Imagine – there’s no F-word, no moralizing & certainly no glamorizing; brilliant performances from non-actors & gorgeous photography. The tears flowed several times, but the film is unsentimental too. Don’t miss it.

Hushpuppy

Allesammen – tag ind og se Hushpuppy hvis du ikke allerede har. Mange film hævder at være åh så original, men denne film ER og hvis der er retfærdighed i Hollywood – kan altid diskuteres – vinder den i det mindste Bedste Manuskript. Bedste Instruktion ville være passende.

Bare tænk – ingen siger fuck – ingen løftet pegefinger og sandelig ingen glamour i situationen; suveræn skuespil fra ikke-skuespillere og underskønne billeder. Tårerne flød flere gange, men filmen er heller ikke rørstrømsk. Se den.

Midwinter - Midvinter

Midwinter

Yep, it’s midwinter, Candlemas or Groundhog Day, traditionally the coldest day of the year, although it didn’t live up to that here. Beautiful clear frosty day & at midday shadows were as clear as the nearly cloudless sky. Folk tradition therefore predicts 6 more weeks of winter, but there’s about an hour more daylight than there was around Christmas, when the days were darkest.

For many years I found it very strange that a former desert rat like myself could be so very fond of winter, long dark nights & howling wind. I’ve lived here twice as long as Tucson & I still love all 4 seasons – it’s the natives who gripe. At a post-meditation assembly in December where the topic was acceptance, the first remark was, “I can’t accept that it’s so dark all winter. It gets dark at 3 in the afternoon. It’s like a 5-hour difference. I can’t accept that.”

So move to Spain, I thought, that’s the dumbest remark I’ve ever heard. The same woman’s later remarks proved again & again that she is not the sharpest tool in the shed, but still. SO many Danes gripe & grump all winter long or else basically hibernate & walk around like a cross between a popsicle & a zombie. I have a colleague who extends this to rainy days. You’d think the universe was piddling on her head for pure spite, the way she goes on … & on & on.

My first trip to Europe in 1971 brought me from Tucson – where we had not had one drop of rain in 5 months – to Ireland, where it rained the day after my little son & I arrived. The neighbors thought we had lost it when we ran around the garden with our tongues out. I still put my face up in the rain if it’s less than a torrent – then I’d probably drown.

So I guess there’s an explanation. People brought up in northern countries were meant to hibernate in winter. Farmers couldn’t do an awful lot. Tradesmen could but there wasn’t as much of everything – mainly food – as there was the rest of the year, so everybody conserved energy, just like their animals. It makes me feel more tolerant, realizing it’s all ‘society’s fault’ – the way we’ve turned up the volume & the speed & keep everything going when we should really be curled up by the fire with a good book & the last bit of coffee from the bottom of the jar. Danes & who gripe all the dark months are still a royal pain. So I am here griping about them. Ahhh – that feels good.

Midvinter

Det er Kyndelmisse, i år ikke årets koldeste dag, men det er dens ry. Smukt klart frostvejr så skyggerne var så synlige som den næsten klare himmel. Ifølge folketroen betyder det 6 uger mere af vinter, men der er en god time mere dagslys end omkring jul, da det var mørkest.

I mange år synes jeg det var mærkeligt, at en ørkenrotte som mig var så glad for vinter, lange nætter og hyldende blæsevejr, mens de indfødte hele tiden klagede. Med til en efter-meditation møde i december hvor emnet var accept. Første bemærkning, ”Jeg kan ikke acceptere at det er så mørkt. Det er mørkt kl. 3, det er ligesom 5 timer mere end sommer. Det kan jeg ikke acceptere.”

Så flyt til Spanien, tænkte jeg. Det er den dummeste bemærkning jeg har hørt længe. Kvinden der sagde det snakkede videre og det var klart at, her havde vi ikke det skarpeste redskab i skuret, men alligevel. SÅ mange danskere klager og mugger hele vinteren eller går rundt som en blanding af en ispind og en zombie. Jeg har en kollega der klager højlydt hver gang det regner – som om universet tisser på hendes hoved af ren ondskab. I DK. Hun må være utilfreds det meste af tiden, ikke?

Da jeg rejste til Europa første gang i 1971 fløj jeg fra Arizona – hvor der ikke havde været en dråbe regn i 5 måneder – til Irland, hvor det regnede dagen efter min lille søn og jeg ankom. Naboerne syntes vi var helt fra den, som vi løb rundt i haven med tungen ud af munden. Det gør jeg stadig her nogle gange – skønt.

Så forklaringen må være at folk der bor langt mod nord burde gå halvt i hi i de mørke måneder, spare på energien og den (dengang) sparsomme mad. Det hele er samfundets skyld! (Det har vi hørt før i andre sammenhænge.) I stedet for at arbejde som gal, burde vi hænge ud foran pejsen med en god bog og de sidste kaffegrums fra bunden af krukken. Okay, nu føler jeg mig mere tolerante. Men danskernes lys mangel syndrom er stadig dødhamrende irriterende, endnu mere deres klageri, så nu klager jeg over dem. Hihi – det var dejligt.