Movies to Watch

Rust and Bone (2012): Jacques Audiard
Savages (2012): Oliver Stone
Hate Crime (2005): Tommy Stovall
Fjellet (2011): Ole Giaever
Le Fils de Autre (2012): Lorraine Levy
The Turin Horse (2012): Bela Tarr
The Dark Knight Rises (2012): Christopher Nolan
Ronin (1998): John Frankenheimer
Grand Prix  (1966): John Frankenheimer
The Game (1995): David Fincher

Jacques Audiard: 'My work is like rolling thunder'

For a man who is a bundle of intense, nervous energy, Jacques Audiard is a surprisingly slow worker. Since he started directing, in 1994, he has completed just six features, with lengthy gaps between them. Indeed, the three-year run up to his new film, Rust and Bone, represents something of an acceleration. "I am free," Audiard shrugs, "because I work for a producer [Pascal Caucheteux] who says, 'We'll go when it's ready.' He doesn't give me a deadline. The films take a long time to write – too long, perhaps. That is where the time is spent."

But what films they are. His last, A Prophet, the coruscating study of a French-Arab convict who becomes a player in the Corsican mafia, was four years in the making, and won a runner-up prize at Cannes in 2009; it also made a star of its lead, Tahar Rahim. Before that, in 2005, there was The Beat That My Heart Skipped, a nerve-shredding remake of James Toback's seminal New Hollywood film, Fingers; again, it made a huge star of its lead, Romain Duris, in a role originally played by Harvey Keitel. Rewind another four years and there was Read My Lips, in 2001, in which deaf office worker Emmanuelle Devos falls for hoodlum Vincent Cassel and takes part in a brutal robbery. Read My Lips emerged a full five years after the film that put Audiard on the map: A Self-Made Hero, his fantastically watchable account of a fake Resistance fighter, with a liquidly brilliant central performance by Mathieu Kassovitz.

Rust and Bone is a reworking of a book of short stories by Canadian writer Craig Davidson, and of two in particular: the title story and another called Rocket Ride. It's a substantial rewrite: the killer-whale trainer played by Marion Cotillard was originally male; an accident that is a backstory in the book becomes the climax of the film; the film's two central characters live in entirely separate worlds in Davidson's original, and never meet (Audiard's film has them conducting a complex, passionate relationship). Moreover, the film is set in France, in an anti-glamour Riviera of ramshackle workshops, grubby flats and battered wastelands. (This is not, as Audiard is at pains to point out, an assault on the plushness of the Côte d'Azur; it is simply because the only killer-whale aquarium in France is located in Antibes.)

Key to this part of the process is Audiard's scriptwriter, Thomas Bidegain, who worked on A Prophet and also acts as the director's unofficial translator. Sitting in on our interview, he chips in, amplifying his director's words. "The way we work is to talk about what the film should be, the kind of film we want to do. We were coming out of A Prophet – a jail movie – no women, no space, no light, no love. So the idea we had was to do a love story."

But Audiard, twitching with auteurist pride, cannot be talked over. "I really believe the form of the film must be in the scenario; cinema is not just added value to the scripting. I believe in it as a totality. There was a specific problem with this film, which we saw often during the writing: the clash between realism and stylisation. You had constantly to be looking for an equilibrium. If it's too realistic, it's boring. If it's too stylised, you don't believe it." Bidegain adds: "What attracted us to the short stories was the universe they described, a universe of catastrophe – a world where people just have their body left to sell. The characters were normal people, but their destiny is magnified by accidents."

But this is the director's show, and Audiard wants to talk about a key scene in which Cotillard's character, Stéphanie, loses her legs. In Davidson's story, the incident is described with gruesome precision: the trainer stands on the killer whale's lip, slips, and is horribly mutilated as the animal attempts to eject him from its throat. The film's treatment of this central moment is, in sharp contrast, cryptic and impressionistic; a chaotic, dream-like sequence, slowed down to the point of abstraction. "We start out very realistic," Audiard says. "We shot the marine show just as it is, very natural. But if you do the accident like that, it would be over so fast. So we go outside the point of view of the character: what we make is more like a fantasy. It could be an image a child dreamed, after the story was told to him."

That seems as good a rationalisation of Audiard's extraordinarily fluid image-making as you're likely to get from the director. His is an ability that is as confident as cinema has seen for decades. It is not for nothing that Audiard has been repeatedly compared to Martin Scorsese in his Taxi Driver and Raging Bull period; he has the same restless imagination, the same unerring confidence in handling the camera. Audiard is reluctant to explain details – "It is immodest, like I am God!" – but rather poetically likens his scene-building to "rolling thunder", a tension crackling away in the background before the climactic moment.

He used CGI for Cotillard's post-amputation scenes, digitally removing her legs. "It's just a cheap computer manipulation, you know. When we shoot, she's just wearing green socks. You get used to the green socks, then one day we saw the first finished CGI, and you think: Wow! It's really erotic." He expands on this: "We know this from the original story – that's what the film is about – she is someone who doesn't like sex before the accident: she's too controlled. She finds in love the possibility to be abandoned, to let go – she finds out what love is."

Audiard has been here before. In Read My Lips, the disability is deafness, but the film has a near-identical dramatic drive: a woman whose impairment is an analogue to a repressed emotional life; an insensitive, inarticulate man; a relationship that unlocks them both. Audiard says he never noticed the similarities; it was his editor who pointed them out. But it is this inquisitiveness about his characters' inner lives that really marks Audiard out as a director. For a long time regarded as essentially a crime guy, a modern Jean-Pierre Melville (perhaps due to his predilection for spiffy trilby hats and a pipe), Audiard looks very much like a director with a yen for intense, emotional romances. "Maybe it's a problem of vocabulary – 'crime' is perhaps too specific a term for what I do."

Be that as it may, you would have thought Audiard would be a natural candidate for a Hollywood – or at least an English-language – transfer, like so many of his French colleagues, with varying degrees of success: everyone from Renoir and Truffaut to Besson and Audiard's former star Mathieu Kassovitz have tried it. The Beat That My Heart Skipped cleverly aligned him with the cultier end of 70s American cinema; and Rust and Bone, after all, could easily have been a boutique Hollywood production, with an Oscar-winning lead. But Audiard remains wary; partly, his sketchy English makes it a tad tricky; and partly he genuinely seems to prefer the unploughed pastures of his homeland. "If you open the door of a boxing gym in Brooklyn, you know what is behind it. You've seen it 200 times, in 200 films. If you open it in Antibes, it's all new. There is curiosity. Had we set set it in America, it would be a kind of cliche, somehow. You need something to say about the place where you make films. I know Europe. The US I don't know so well. I need a film that sees something, like One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest did for Milos Forman. It makes it worth the trip."

@Guardian

by: Andrew Pulver

Two Thumbs Up Les Discrets

I listen to this french post-rock/shoegaze band and it's so beautiful, really catchy music and some excellent lyrics. Specifically i like the way they integrated Paul Verlaine's poem in their decent tunes. I'm hugely impressed by the shoegazey taste!

c'est l'amour

Michael Haneke, right, with (from left) Jean-Louis Trintignant, Adrien Brody and Emmanuelle Riva after Amour won the Palme d'Or at Cannes. Photograph: Yves Herman/Reuters

The 65th Cannes film festival drew to a close with the director Michael Haneke being awarded the Palme d'Or for Amour.

His victory was greeted with acclaim but an understandable lack of surprise: Amour had been hotly tipped ever since it unspooled on the fifth day of the festival.

The jury, presided over by former Palme d'Or winner Nanni Moretti, gave the chief award to Haneke, saying the jury was not unanimous on any of the awards, but that many of the contending films were "more in love with their style than their characters"; this, presumably, was where Haneke differed.

Amour, which stars French veterans Jean-Louis Trintignant and Emmanuelle Riva as well as Isabelle Huppert, describes the relationship between an elderly married couple when one of them is incapacitated by a stroke.

The Palme d'Or is Haneke's second; his last was only three years ago for The White Ribbon. In this he joins a select company, including Emir Kusturica and the Dardenne brothers.

The Austrian director accepted the award in his characteristically low-key way, saying: "It's a harsh thing to have to contend with. It's something I had to contend with in my own family, and that's why I started to make this film."

Haneke also mentioned his own wife: "This film is an illustration of the promise we made to each other, if either one of us finds ourselves in the situation that is described in the film."

The Grand Jury prize, Cannes' second most prestigious award, was given to Matteo Garrone, the Italian director whose film Reality explored the effect of reality TV. Garrone's award was genuinely unexpected, perhaps reflecting the common cultural ground between him and the jury president.

British cinema scored a pleasant surprise as the bronze-medal Jury Prize went to Ken Loach's The Angels' Share, a whisky heist comedy set in Scotland. Loach, who is held in high esteem on the European festival circuit, took the opportunity to affirm his opposition to Europe-wide austerity economic policies when accepting his award; he elaborated on the issue afterwards in the winners' press conference.

"The characters in the film have no work, and the world tells them they have no worth," Loach said. "We are reminded of the situation in Europe where people are told they have to stay out of work, and stay of no value. So we are in solidarity with those against austerity – another world is possible."

A rare moment of levity was provided by Mexican director Carlos Reygadas, whose best director award was probably the biggest surprise of the night, after a string of negative reviews for his film Post Tenebras Lux. Reygadas bounced into the winners' press conference, punching the air, and stood balancing his award certificate on his head. British jury member Andrea Arnold had earlier defended his film to the hilt, saying it had "dared to fail".

Probably the most disappointed director on the night was Leos Carax, whose Holy Motors looked likely to scoop at least one award. Moretti said: "Opinions were divided within the jury over several films; some won awards, some did not."

But one popular winner was the young American, Benh Zeitlin, whose surreal coming of age film Beasts of the Southern Wild won the Camera d'Or for best first film. Zeitlin, the only American to win a major prize, explained that nearly all his cast and crew were first-timers too: "We were a lot of inexperienced people running fast into the unknown."

Former Bond villain Mads Mikkelsen also drew loud cheers when his best actor award was announced for the child-abuse-accusation drama The Hunt. Jury member Ewan McGregor said: "The wonder was in the subtlety."

@Guardian

My Album of The Month (April 2012)

Winterhalter

Artist: Les Discrets
Album: Septembre et Ses Dernières Pensées
Year: 2010
This is good, i mean really good; close to my heart. This french band really rocked my soul and pave a perfect entry to shoegazing realm. of course the genre is the subject of dispute, as they can be categorized as post-metal or post-rock as well. But shoegaze define the thing better; with characteristic impact on listener; left me detached, mesmerized and  drown in beautiful tunes. The sound is a mixture of distorted guitar, muffled vocals and throbbing drums.

Haneke Presents: "Amour"

 By Sunday morning the 65th Cannes Film Festival had its first masterwork and an overwhelming critical favorite in Michael Haneke’s “Amour.” A tender, wrenching, impeccably directed story of love and death, the French-language film stars Emmanuelle Riva and Jean-Louis Trintignant as a Parisian couple in their 80s — named Georges and Anne, as are most of Mr. Haneke’s middle-class couples — struggling with an increasingly debilitating illness and the specter of what comes next. One day over breakfast she suffers a frightening episode that leaves her briefly locked in a mute, seemingly unaware blankness. She’s there, but not, and then just as suddenly she returns.

A hospital stay follows along with an operation, a grim prognosis, a slide into helplessness, the expected accumulation of humiliations, natural and not, and swells of emotion. Half-frozen by a stroke, Anne’s body has begun to betray her, but Georges holds her so very close: he brushes her hair, bathes and dresses her. Somewhat stooped, with a shaky, hitchy walk, he trembles when he lifts her from the bed or a chair, but he keeps holding on. The first time he has to help her move from her wheelchair, she tells him how to grasp her properly, as if in a hug, a gesture that’s poignant in its literalness — they press into each other — and reverberant of an erotic life shared and still remembered.

Mr. Haneke has often turned his cool gaze toward power and violence, and in some respects he has done so again in “Amour,” one difference being that he’s also made room here for tenderness. Part of the film’s emotional force is due to the actors, both superb, and to the poignancy of watching these two familiar, now frail bodies of cinema, as it were, performing in a pantomime of sickness and death. This very real fragility makes a sharp contrast with the bodies cinema immortalizes — eternally young — and it seems telling that Mr. Haneke, who likes to pick at screen illusion, cast actors who starred in two of the most famous French films of all time: Mr. Trintignant was the titular man from “A Man and a Woman” and Ms. Riva played the nameless woman in “Hiroshima Mon Amour.”

“Amour” sent a charge through the packed, rapt 2,300-seat theater, and immediately suggested that there was more to the official lineup than the first few days had suggested. The competition had gotten off toa terrific start with Wes Anderson’s “Moonrise Kingdom,” even if not everyone was equally convinced. A similar critical ambivalence greeted another strong competition entry, “Beyond the Hills,” from the Romanian director Cristian Mungiu, who won the Palme in 2007 for “4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days.” His new film centers on two young women who, after a reunion, are slowly and forcibly separated by different faiths: Alina (Cristina Flutur) believes in their friendship while Voichita (Cosmina Stratan) has turned to God and become a nun in a tiny Christian Orthodox sect.

Set largely in Voichita’s monastery, a windswept outcropping of buildings in the deep countryside, the story unfolds in atmospheric bits and narrative pieces. Alina and Voichita are lifelong friends, having grown up in the same orphanage. Alina, the stronger, more stubbornly independent of the two, has returned home after a stint working in Germany and thinking that she and Voichita will go off together. Mr. Mungiu, who prefers that viewers come to their own conclusions, never makes it clear if the women are lovers — “You will think whatever you will think,” he said during the party for his film Saturday — though a scene in which Voichita massages Alina’s back, then looks away when Alina turns over, baring her breasts, suggests private worlds of complication.

Shot on film and running two-and-a-half engrossing hours, “Beyond the Hills” explores the push and pull between the collective and the individual, between faith and free will. Voichita insists that she wants to stay at the monastery, where she and some dozen other nuns — along with chickens, boxes of bees and a kind of Greek chorus of incessantly barking dogs — live without electricity under the strict religious supervision of a priest. With mounting desperation and increasingly violent outbursts, Alina tries to change Voichita’s mind. Believing in a world of absolute good and evil, and confused by Alina’s passion, the nuns and priest respond by trying to ritualistically drive out the Devil, an ordeal that effectively pits one woman against a millennium of religious orthodoxy.

At his party, a typical Cannes beach affair with pounding beats and revelers swarming the open bar, Mr. Mungiu talked about his film, the difficulties of shooting in winter and working with a young, untested cast. He based the screenplay (originally 245 pages!) on a pair of fact-based books by Tatiana Niculescu Bran about a real nun who died after being gagged and tied to a cross for days in a Romanian monastery during an exorcism. (Ms. Bran turned her first book into a play, “Deadly Confession,” which was staged at La MaMa in 2008.) It’s a shocker of a story, yet while Mr. Mungiu’s sympathies are transparently with Alina he neither sentimentalizes her — he keeps her at both an emotional and visual distance — nor does he demonize the priest or, especially, the nuns.

“The film should be watched and judged from each character’s perspective,” he explained, giving the larger, suggestively political view. “This is how you will discover that it is difficult to say who is guilty, because the people who are really guilty are not in the film. They are the people who created this kind of society, the people who created education that completely lacks the very important moral values that people should have.”


@NYTIMES

More Than Meets The Eye II

Gerry: Gus Van Sant back to his experimental roots

Some fantastic material for my movie archive! I watched a number of great movies on my days off during recent months. I'd like to mention them. Moreover i added my personal scores which partly reflect how much i liked them. (I don't fully support the idea of rating artwork this way !) I've done so just to mark my initial personal impressions about each of these movies. My personal experience reveals the understanding and excitement about some artworks develop slowly. That's interesting to observe how my personal conception gradually changes by time. I'm willing to write a brief review about some of them in upcoming posts.


Hanna (2011) ; Joe Wright 6/10
The Trial (1962) ; Orson Welles 10/10
Les Asacias (2011) ; Pablo Giorgeli 7/10
The Holy Girl (2004) ; Lucrecia Martel 9/10
Gerry (2002) ; Guus Van Sant 10/10
Once Upon A Time in Anatolia (2011) ; Nuri Bilge Ceylan 9/10
Batman Begins (2005) ; Christopher Nolan 8/10
Army of Shadows (1969) ; Jean-Pierre Melville 9/10
A Good Heart (2009) ; Dagur Kari 6/10
My Sister's Keeper (2009) ; Nick Cassavetes 9/10
Angela's Ashes (1999) ; Alan Parker 6/10
A Christmas Carol (2009) ; Robert Zemeckis 8/10
Z (1969) ; Costa-Gavras 9/10

My Author of The Month (February 2012)

Title: How Proust Can Change Your Life
Author: Alain de Botton
I read "How Proust Can Change Your Life": Another great book by swiss Alain de Botton way back in February. It's an exceptional talent that makes the most difficult issues understandable for the reader. The book introduces several dimensions of Proust's works and life; a blend of literary biography and psychology manual Focusing on some simple facts in his life. I understand the author has opted superficiality at times to underline some particular themes, it might affect some die hard fans of Proust but i presume this direction is wisely chosen by de Botton. Actually the book can be the optimum choice as an intro to Proust's world. 

My Author of The Month (January 2012)

I read "Nietzsche and Philosophy" by french Gilles Deleuze. The key point is the novel and sharp interpretation of then-underrated and unknown german philosopher. The book is concise and fluent, handling the difficult issue masterfully. To me it was an expert synopsis of major themes in Nietzsche's works.
pedram, May 2012

France Peresidential Elections 2012: TV Debate

The Socialist François Hollande has emerged with the upper hand from a bruising TV duel with the rightwing president Nicolas Sarkozy, as the two held their last rallies in the final 24 hours of campaigning before Sunday's presidential vote.

The first opinion poll for LH2 Yahoo showed French viewers of the live TV debate found Hollande to be the more serious candidate and also the nicest, most sincere and closest to their daily concerns. Sarkozy was seen to have been more dynamic and competent. Hollande was most convincing on the issues that worry voters the most: jobs, making ends meet as well as education, while Sarkozy was seen to be better on Europe, immigration and reducing France's debt.

Over 17 million French people watched the almost three-hour live TV presidential debate, more than watch an X Factor final in the UK, but fewer than tuned in to watch Sarkozy take on the Socialist Ségolène Royal in 2007.

Sarkozy is trailing Hollande by five to eight points in the polls and a classic televised battle of the personalities had been seen as his last chance to turn the election around and win over the large majority of France's 6.4m far-right voters he needs to have a chance at re-election.

Pollsters were sceptical that Sarkozy, who at times had seemed riled and on the defensive, would have done so. French presidential debates do not usually yield an outright winner, and some called this a draw.

But most commentators felt Hollande had won on points, delivering the most memorable lines, including repeating: "I, as president of the republic …" 16 times in a bid to gain in leadership stature. Newspaper columnists felt the debate would not produce an "earthquake" for the struggling Sarkozy, the most unpopular president to seek re-election in France. Hollande was seen to have cemented his advance.

He was given a further boost when the centrist François Bayrou, who took 9% of the vote in the first round, broke with his party's tradition and said he would vote for him. This was a blow to Sarkozy, who needs to secure as many Bayrou voters as possible.

If the TV slanging match was full of bile – Sarkozy called Hollande "a little slanderer" and Hollande told him "you'd be hard pressed to pass yourself off as a victim" – the political reaction afterwards was just as laden with invective.

Nadine Morano, a rightwing minister and Sarkozy ally, said the exchange with Hollande had been like "extracting pus". Sarkozy's special adviser called Hollande "grotesque". Jean-Marc Ayrault, tipped as a possible Socialist prime minister, said Sarkozy had been aggressive. Hollande said the nature of the debate had reflected the fracture, aggressiveness and tensions in society "after five years of Sarkozy".

But Sarkozy insisted that the election was on a knife-edge and all was to play for. "The opinion polls are lying. An election has never been this open … It's even more open after the debate," he told French radio.

He then gave a highly personal interview seemingly to show himself as more human and close to the people, saying he was so "rubbish" at technology that he didn't know how to work the three TV remote controls at home, and suggesting if his wife, Carla Bruni, wasn't with him he could barely operate the television.

At his final major rally in Toulon, he said the "left and its laxity" had "ruined" France.

Hollande, before giving his final open-air rally in Toulouse, was deliberately cautious about Sunday's vote, warning that nothing was won. Some observers have predicted the result could be closer than polls suggest.

Meanwhile, media fact-checkers were poring over the highly technical parts of the TV debate, when the candidates hurled statistics at each other. One French site calculated that Sarkozy mentioned a figure every 47 seconds and Hollande mentioned one every 1 minute, 36 seconds, although not all were accurate.

The final runoff vote takes place on Sunday.

@Guardian

by Angelique Chrisafis

Les anges du peche (1943)

The Secular and the religious, the extremism and the wisdom, innocence and sin, these have been thematic concerns of Robert Bresson and are present as this movie as well. Bressonian stylistic signature is visible in images and narration. 
The story takes place in a convent which aim is to rehabilitate former convicts. The story orbit around the character of Anne-Mariea: a rich and idealistic girl who joined the convent  as a dedicated novice. In a visit from a jail she becomes preoccupied with a prisoner, an opportunistic person (Therese). After her release from prison, Therese kills an ex-friend because of which she has been imprisoned. Thereafter Therese joins the convent as an escape from the public and police. Anne-Marie's expects the event and embrace her with absolute fascination. Therese is reluctant to tell her the dark secret and protests against her innocence and kindness.  pedram


aka: Angels of the streets or Angels of sin
 Director/Writer: Robert Bresson
Starring: Renee Faure, Jany Holt, Mila Parely
Produced: 1943
Release Date (USA): 1950

The Royals Need To Earn Their Keep

Amid the flag-waving and the street parties to celebrate the marriage of Prince William and Kate Middleton today, bigger questions about the relevance of the monarchy to modern Britain lurk like uninvited guests. Extravagant living in a time of austerity abrades public sensibilities; unearned privilege is resented, while snobbery and elitism are seen as dangerously outmoded. The usual arguments in support of the monarchy — continuity, tradition and dignity — are no longer enough. The royals need to earn their keep.
While only a small minority here favor a republican government, many Britons hope the wedding might signal the dawning of a more populist monarchy. This is the marriage of a senior royal prince and a commoner — the first in 350 years — that spans the class divide and is, it seems, a marriage for love. These two met in college, have lived in a shared house with friends, and plan to spend at least the first few years of their married life in northern Wales, with William continuing his service as a search-and-rescue pilot for the Royal Air Force. They have caught the public’s imagination not because of outdated deference to royalty but because of their appearance of normality and togetherness even amid the strictures of royal protocol and the frenzy of press coverage.
Comparisons have of course been drawn to the wedding of William’s parents, Prince Charles and Lady Diana Spencer. Diana was young, aristocratic, naïve and intimidated, whereas Kate is older, middle-class, educated, respected by her groom and undoubtedly wiser to the pressures that will surround her. But the circumstances are similar: in 1981, as now, Britain was mired in economic difficulty and the public was expected to welcome the opulence of the ceremony as a respite from hardship.
To understand how a wedding could accomplish that, it is instructive to look much further back than 1981 — to a time before royal weddings meant much at all to ordinary Britons.
Consider Mary Tudor’s 1554 marriage to Philip of Spain. Officials feared that the public might object to the queen, herself half-Spanish, marrying a Spanish prince. And so the nuptials were performed some 50 miles from London, at Winchester Cathedral. It was an alliance born of the mutual strategic interest forged by the marriage of Mary’s parents, Henry VIII and Katherine of Aragon.
Royal marriages had long been arranged for diplomatic and political reasons. In 1420, Henry V married Catherine of Valois in an attempt at peace with France during the Hundred Years’ War; in 1589, James I married Anne of Denmark to establish a strong Protestant alliance in Europe; in 1625, Charles I married Henrietta Maria of France during a brief period when England’s pro-Spanish policy was replaced by a pro-French one.
Under the Stuarts, royal brides were mainly Catholic, which jarred a Protestant nation. The monarchs of the German House of Hanover, which acceded in 1714, invariably wed Germans of similar rank.
What finally changed all this was a remaking — indeed a rebranding — of the monarchy in 1917. England and Germany were at war, so another marriage to a German was out of the question. Instead, what was then the House of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha was renamed the House of Windsor, and George V decreed that his children could now “marry English men and English women.” In that moment the all-British monarchy was born. And royal weddings became big events to be celebrated publicly and patriotically.
When the future George VI married Lady Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon in 1923, wedding fever engulfed the country. Newspapers and magazines scrutinized every detail: the dress, the guests, the venue. A million people lined the route from Buckingham Palace to Westminster Abbey. There were fireworks and parties in the streets.
The wedding of Charles and Diana followed this tradition. The ceremony was moved from the abbey to the larger St. Paul’s Cathedral, and much of the country watched on television. Celebratory merchandise, from mugs and plates to plastic trays and tea towels, were sold worldwide. The royal family had become the ultimate British brand.
As the wedding unfolds today, many people here will be keenly aware that this is a spectacle to which they, the taxpayers, have contributed. Britons want to see their royals demonstrating “value for money,” to be seen to be in touch, to have a greater ethos of service and to be more than vacuous figureheads propped up by pomp and pageantry. In a democratic age of mass media, maintaining public favor has never been more critical.
Queen Elizabeth II’s longevity — next year will be her 60th on the throne — has in many ways suspended public discussion of the reform and modernization of the monarchy.
This might prove to be the biggest threat to the royal future: more than half of Britons now believe William should succeed the queen. With Charles first in line, there is a real prospect that William and Kate will not become king and queen until they are middle-aged. By then, the honeymoon will be over, their public appeal will surely have waned and the new “classless” monarchy that their marriage symbolized may well have arrived too late.
@NYTIMES

My Author of The Month (February)

Turkey-France Clash

Turkey has launched a bitter attack on French president Nicolas Sarkozy's and France's leadership of the military campaign against Libyan leader Muammar Gaddafi, accusing the French of lacking a conscience in their conduct in the Libyan operations.

The vitriolic criticism, from both the prime minister, Recep Tayyip Erdogan, and the president, Abdullah Gül followed attacks from the Turkish government earlier this week and signalled an orchestrated attempt by Ankara to wreck Sarkozy's plans to lead the air campaign against Gaddafi.

With France insisting that Nato should not be put in political charge of the UN-mandated air campaign, Turkey has come out emphatically behind sole Nato control of the operations.

The row came as France confirmed that one of its fighter jets had destroyed a Libyan air force plane, the first to breach the no-fly zone since it was imposed on 19 March. The Libyan G2/Galeb trainer aircraft was destroyed by an air-to-ground missile just after it landed at an air base near the rebel-held town of Misrata, a French military spokesman said.

The clash between Turkey and France over Libya is underpinned by acute frictions between Erdogan and Sarkozy, both impetuous and mercurial leaders who revel in the limelight, by fundamental disputes over Ankara's EU ambitions, and by economic interests in north Africa.

The confrontation is shaping up to be decisive in determining the outcome of the bitter infighting over who should inherit command of the Libyan air campaign from the Americans and could come to a head at a major conference in London next week of the parties involved.

Using incendiary language directed at France in a speech in Istanbul, Erdogan said: "I wish that those who only see oil, gold mines and underground treasures when they look in [Libya's] direction, would see the region through glasses of conscience from now on."

President Gül reinforced the Turkish view that France and others were being driven primarily by economic interests. "The aim [of the air campaign] is not the liberation of the Libyan people," he said. "There are hidden agendas and different interests."

Earlier this week, Claude Guéant, the French interior minister who was previously Sarkozy's chief adviser, outraged the Muslim world by stating that the French president was "leading a crusade" to stop Gaddafi massacring Libyans.

Erdogan denounced the use of the word crusade yesterday, blaming those, France chief among them, who are opposed to Turkey joining the EU.

Senior Nato officials are meeting in Brussels for the fourth day in a row to try to hammer out an agreement on who should assume command of the no-fly zone over Libya from the Americans who are determined to relinquish command within days.

Sarkozy has agreed to give Nato military planners operational command of the campaign, but refused to grant the alliance political and strategic control, insisting this should be vested in the broader "coalition of the willing" taking part.

Turkey has responded by blocking Nato planning operations for Libya while stressing that Nato should be given "sole command", senior Nato diplomats said.

Turkey, Nato's second biggest army after the US and its only Muslim member, appears bent on winning the argument. It is already taking part in Nato patrols in the Mediterranean to police an arms embargo on Libya. It wants to limit and shorten the air campaign and proscribe ground attacks on Libya by Nato aircraft. If Nato is given political command of the air effort, Turkey would be able to exercise a veto in a system run on consensus.

The US's top military officer in Europe, Admiral James Stavridis, Nato's supreme commander Europe, has gone to Ankara to try to mediate a deal.

The Turks are incensed at repeated snubs by Sarkozy. The French failed to invite Turkey to last Saturday's summit in Paris which presaged the air strikes. French fighters taking off from Corsica struck the first blows. The Turkish government accused Sarkozy of launching not only the no-fly zone, but his presidential re-election campaign.

While the dispute over Libya is substantive and political, it also appears highly personal, revealing the bad blood simmering between the French president and the Turkish prime minister.

Sarkozy went to Turkey last month for the first time in four years as president. But the visit was repeatedly delayed and then downgraded from a state presidential event. He stayed in Turkey for five hours.

"Relations between Turkey and France deserve more than this," complained Erdogan. "I will speak with frankness. We wish to host him as president of France. But he is coming as president of the G20, not as that of France."

While the German chancellor, Angela Merkel, is also opposed to Turkey joining the EU, she has voiced her objections moderately. Sarkozy has declared loudly that culturally Turkey does not belong in Europe, but in the Middle East.

France has blocked tranches of Ankara's EU negotiations on the grounds that it should not be seen as ever-fit for membership.

Old-School Code of Trust Ruined

Here's an article by John Hughes,former editor of The Christian Science Monitor/Pedram

The WikiLeaks dump of US embassy cables last month was a reckless act. It is a far cry from the responsible reporting on foreign affairs with which I am familiar.When I was the State Department spokesman in the Reagan administration, Bernard Kalb, then diplomatic correspondent for NBC, called me about a tip that the bad guys in Beirut, Lebanon, had captured and were holding an American CIA officer.


“Bernie,” I said, “I’ll only talk off the record about that.”
“No way,” Bernie replied, “If it’s off the record I can’t use it.”
“Well, that’s the deal,” I said. “See what your network says.”

The network agreed to the deal. I told Bernie that the officer being held was the CIA station chief in Beirut. We didn’t know whether the captors knew of his CIA association. If Bernie went with the story, the officer would certainly be killed. Honorably, the network did not run the story. Sadly, the captors tortured the officer, discovered his identity, and killed him.
The importance of relationships:
That was a classic example of trust between a diplomatic correspondent and a government official. It is the kind of relationship observed regularly between State Department officials in Washington and US diplomatic correspondents.
Sometimes the journalist is checking out a questionable rumor. Sometimes the diplomat is offering background on a situation that for good reasons cannot then, or ever, be made public. For example: Dissidents given secret sanctuary in a US embassy; a foreign diplomat barred from travel because he is actually a high-ranking intelligence officer recruiting American nuclear scientists; US diplomats caught outside the US Embassy in Tehran when it was seized by extremists, but hidden safely for months by diplomats of other countries.
Exchanges and agreements between responsible journalists and senior diplomats go on each day with clear understanding about what can, or should, be published.

The consequences:

Many of the cables revealed by WikiLeaks are of little consequence. In many respects the dispatches to Washington of US diplomats abroad echo the work of foreign correspondents. They report on formal discussions with foreign leaders, then attempt interpretations of what the motives and intentions of foreign governments may really be.
The peccadillos and peculiarities of a foreign head of state may be useful to chronicle.

One cable referred to Russia’s prime minister, Vladimir Putin, and its president, Dmitry Medvedev, as Batman and Robin. Mr. Putin was not amused. But Russia is hardly likely to sever diplomatic relations. Another embassy cable lauded French President Nicolas Sarkozy as a sturdy friend of America, but also called him “mercurial.” Half a dozen French columnists might have written the same thing.
As one of Secretary of State Hillary Rodham Clinton’s foreign counterparts told her: “You should see what we say about you.”
Disclosure of US moves to remove a Pakistani stockpile of highly enriched uranium is much more significant. Working to keep such material from hostile hands may have been immensely important. Revealing it may jeopardize that effort.

Similarly, reports that Arab leaders privately urged the United States to take out Iran’s nuclear weapons capacity can hardly have resonated well in their capitals. During my stint in government I sat through many meetings in foreign capitals with heads of state who blasted rivals and other governments but who in public proclaimed lasting friendship with the same characters and entities.
Trusted diplomatic correspondents know how to garner information and inject their dispatches with depth and detail without embarrassing sources that must be protected.
WikiLeaks’s indiscriminate dumping of tens of thousands of purloined classified documents into the public domain for friend and foe to read is neither responsible journalism nor does it strike a blow for transparency. It is the work of a politically motivated activist intent on doing America harm.


John Hughes, a former editor of the Monitor, writes a biweekly column.

CL Draw;Boss welcomes French Test

United faces Olympique Marseille...
The Reds will travel to Stade Velodrome on Wednesday 23 February 2011 and then entertain the French champions at Old Trafford on Tuesday 15 March. And while some United fans may be happy to have avoided the Italian giants in the draw, including European Cup holders Internazionale, the United boss believes Marseille will make tricky opponents.

Giving his immediate reaction to MUTV, Sir Alex said: "Everyone thought we might get one of the Milan sides because we’ve faced them quite a few times in the last few years, but we got Marseille in the draw rehearsal and it proved right.
"Marseille are a handful at their own ground, their fantastic atmosphere and incredible support guarantees that. They’ve had a good change in fortunes in the last two or three years, after a dry spell, and think it’ll be a difficult tie."
Although United haven't faced Marseille for more than a decade, there are some familiar faces in the opposition camp.
"[Former Chelsea midfielder] Didier Deschamps is the coach there," said the boss, "and they've got one of our old players in Gabriel Heinze so it’ll be nice to see him."
Sir Alex said of the previous meetings in 1999/2000: "I remember the games well. We won 2-1 at Old Trafford, but lost 1-0 over there when William Gallas scored for them. It wasn’t a good performance from us that night."

As for the rest of the last-16 draw, the manager commented: "Quite a lot of people predicted Arsenal against Barcelona and that’s the most interesting tie.
"Chelsea go to Copenhagen and should get through that one. It’ll be interesting to see Milan and Spurs and also Inter and Bayern Munich – a repeat of last season’s final. So there are some nice ties there and hopefully we can navigate ours."






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Making "Un Prophete"

Prior to making this film, Jacques Audiard had screened a film to prisoners in France. Shocked by the conditions in the prison facility, he decided his next film would take place in one.

To ensure the authenticity of the prison experience, Jacques Audiard hired former convicts as advisers and extras.
@imdb.com

Not Alone

Umm,let's say it's ridiculous goodreads is filtered here so i decided to update the latest developments in my bookshelves here ! i added 6 books to my to-read shelf : 4 of them are persian translations of course:
1- The Age of Empire (1875 - 1914 ) : written by Eric Hobsbawm translated by Nahid Foroughan Akhtaran Publication
2-Flush : by Virginia Woolf, Oxford University Press
3- 18 Best Stories by Edgar Allan Poe  edited by Vincent Price and Chandler Brossard, Published by Dell Publishing
4-De la liberte' chez les Modernes:written by Benjamin Constant translated by Abdolvahhab Ahmadi ,Agah Publishing House
5-Hot Water Music by Charles Bukowski,translated by Bahman Kiarostami,Mahriz Publications
6-Budenbrooks written by Thomas Mann ,translated by Ali Asghar Haddad,Maahi Publications

New York : Cantankerous To Old Metropolitan Criteria

This is a fantastic article about New York by NYU professor Tony Judth

I came to New York University in 1987 on a whim. The Thatcherite assault on British higher education was just beginning and even in Oxford the prospects were grim. N.Y.U. appealed to me: by no means a recent foundation — it was established in 1831 — it is nevertheless the junior of New York City’s great universities. Less of a “city on a hill,” it is more open to new directions: in contrast to the cloistered collegiate worlds of Oxbridge, it brazenly advertises itself as a “global” university at the heart of a world city.
But just what is a “world city”? Mexico City, at 18 million people, or São Paulo at near that, are unmanageable urban sprawls; they are not “world cities.” Conversely, Paris — whose central districts have never exceeded three million inhabitants — was the capital of the 19th century.
Is it a function of the number of visitors? In that case, Orlando, Fla., would be a great metropolis. Being the capital of a country guarantees nothing: think of Madrid or Washington (the Brasília of its time). It may not even be a matter of wealth: within the foreseeable future Shanghai (14 million people) will surely be among the richest places on earth; Singapore already is. Will they be “world cities”?
I have lived in four such cities. London was the commercial and financial center of the world from the defeat of Napoleon until the rise of Hitler; Paris, its perennial competitor, was an international cultural magnet from the building of Versailles through the death of Albert Camus. Vienna’s apogee was perhaps the shortest: its rise and fall coincided with the last years of the Hapsburg Empire, though in intensity it outshone them all. And then came New York.
It has been my mixed fortune to experience these cities at twilight. In their prime they were arrogant and self-assured. In decline, their minor virtues come into focus: people spend less time telling you how fortunate you are to be there. Even at the height of “Swinging London” there was something brittle about the city’s self-promotion, as though it knew this was but an Indian summer.
Today, the British capital is doubtless geographically central, its awful bling-bloated airport one of the world’s busiest. And the city can boast the best theater and a multicolored cosmopolitanism sadly lacking in years past. But it all rests precariously on an unsustainable heap of other peoples’ money: the capital of capital.
By the time I got to Paris, most people in the world had stopped speaking French (something the French have been slow to acknowledge). Who now would deliberately reconstruct their city — as the Romanians did in Bucharest in the late 19th century — to become “the Paris of the East,” complete with grand boulevards like the Calea Victoria? The French have a word for the disposition to look insecurely inward, to be preoccupied with self-interrogation: nombrilisme — “navel-gazing.” They have been doing it for over a century.
I arrived in New York just in time to experience the bittersweet taste of loss. In the arts the city led the world from 1945 through the 1970s. If you wanted to experience modern painting, music or dance, you came to the New York of Clement Greenberg, Leonard Bernstein and George Balanchine. Culture was more than an object of consumption: people thronged to New York to produce it too. Manhattan in those decades was the crossroads where original minds lingered — drawing others in their wake. Nothing else came close.
Jewish New York too is past its peak. Who now cares what Dissent or Commentary says to the world or each other? In 1979, Woody Allen could count on a wide audience for a joke about the two magazines merging and forming “Dissentary” (see “Annie Hall”). Today? A disproportionate amount of the energy invested in these and certain other small journals goes to the Israel question: perhaps the closest that Americans get to nombrilisme.

The intellectual gangs of New York have folded their knives and gone home to the suburbs — or else they fight it out in academic departments to the utter indifference of the rest of humanity. The same, of course, is true of the self-referential squabbles of the cultural elites of Russia or Argentina. But that is one reason neither Moscow nor Buenos Aires matters on the world stage. New York intellectuals once did, but most of them have gone the way of Viennese cafe society: they have become a parody of themselves, their institutions and controversies of predominantly local concern.
And yet, New York remains a world city. It is not the great American city — that will always be Chicago. New York sits at the edge: like Istanbul or Mumbai, it has a distinctive appeal that lies precisely in its cantankerous relationship to the metropolitan territory beyond. It looks outward, and is thus attractive to people who would not feel comfortable further inland. It has never been American in the way that Paris is French: New York has always been about something else as well.
Today I drop my cleaning off with Joseph the tailor and we exchange Yiddishisms and reminiscences (his) of Jewish Russia. Two blocks south I lunch at a place whose Florentine owner disdains credit cards and prepares the best Tuscan food in New York. In a hurry, I can opt instead for a falafel from the Israelis on the next block; I might do even better with the sizzling lamb from the Arab at the corner.
Fifty yards away are my barbers: Giuseppe, Franco and Salvatore, all from Sicily — their “English” echoing Chico Marx. They have been in Greenwich Village forever but never really settled: how should they? They shout at one another all day in Sicilian dialect, drowning out their main source of entertainment and information: a 24-hour Italian-language radio station. On my way home, I enjoy a mille-feuille from a surly Breton pâtissier who has put his daughter through the London School of Economics, one exquisite éclair at a time.
All this within two square blocks of my apartment — and I am neglecting the Sikh newsstand, the Hungarian bakery and the Greek diner (actually Albanian but we pretend otherwise). Three streets east and I have Little Hapsburgia: Ukrainian restaurant, Uniate church, Polish grocery and, of course, the long-established Jewish deli serving Eastern European staples under kosher labels. All that is missing is a Viennese cafe — for this, symptomatically, you must go uptown to the wealthy quarters of the city.
Such variety is doubtless available in London. But the cultures of contemporary London are balkanized by district and income — Canary Wharf, the financial hub, keeps its distance from the ethnic enclaves at the center. Contrast Wall Street, within easy walking distance of my neighborhood. As for Paris, it has its sequestered quarters where the grandchildren of Algerian guest workers rub shoulders with Senegalese street vendors, while Amsterdam has its Surinamese and Indonesian districts: but these are the backwash of empire, what Europeans now refer to as the “immigrant question.”
One must not romanticize. I am sure that most of my neighborhood traders and artisans have never met and would have little to say to one another: at night they return home to Queens or New Jersey. If I told Joseph and Sal they had the good fortune to live in a “world city,” they would probably snort. But they do — just as the barrow boys of early 20th-century Hoxton were citizens of the same cosmopolitan London that Keynes memorialized in “The Economic Consequences of the Peace,” even though they would have had no idea what he was talking about.
We are experiencing the decline of the American age. But how does national or imperial decay influence the lifecycle of a world city? Modern-day Berlin is a cultural metropolis on the make, despite being the capital of a medium-sized and rather self-absorbed nation. Meanwhile, Paris retained its allure for nearly two centuries after the onset of French national decline.
New York — a city more at home in the world than in its home country — may do better still. As a European, I feel more myself in New York than in the European Union’s semi-detached British satellite, and I have Brazilian and Arab friends here who share the sentiment.
To be sure, we all have our complaints. And while there is no other city where I could imagine living, there are many places that, for different purposes, I would rather be. But this too is a very New York sentiment. Chance made me an American, but I chose to be a New Yorker. I probably always was.

Tony Judth

Astonishing Madeleine Peyroux

I adore her voice.I'm listening to "Bare Bones" right now.What a fantastic album it is !
Two thumbs up Madeleine Peyroux !