What 2012 has taught me about filmmaking

Years ago I was fascinated by an interview in which Orson Welles claimed that the death of cinema was imminent. “I believe in the death of cinema. Look at the desperation by which they trying to revive it: yesterday by means of the colour; today, with the three dimensions. I don’t give more than 40 years to it [...].” That interview, made by Alejo Carpentier, was published more than 40 years ago, on August 12, 1953. But, was Welles right?

I strongly believe that films ought to be magical and, just like a book, they should transport you to a different place and time; films should also make you feel as a protagonist or as an accomplice. Every time the lights go out and the projection starts I feel like a child–I’m about to discover something new, something I’ve never seen before. For me a really good film (the five-star kind) must feel like the greatest discovery on Earth; and quite frankly, I haven’t felt that in a long time.

But then I watched Hugo. With its charismatic characters and seemingly clichéd imaginary, Hugo is telling us that, despite the use of 3D, it is all about the story, it is all about the art of cinema. This is not just another boy living in turn-of-the-century Paris, this is not Amelie revisited; this is the story of the boy who discovers cinema for the very first time. There is a particular scene in which Hugo watches Le Vogage dans la Lune, and the awe, the magic encapsulated in that scene and in Hugo’s eyes is what movies are all about. (I wonder if that is what Scorsese feels every time he goes to the movies or discovers a film that had been lost into oblivion and rescued by his wonderful team of curators; for further reference visit The Film Foundation).

Hugo makes you cry because the story is real, human. It also makes you cry because it reminds us that film is a form of art that is loosing its amazing cathartic powers in pro of 3D and celebrity culture–and I ask again, was Welles right? And if you are a cinephile, you’ll cry twice as much because you’ll experience for the first time the arrival of the train and the landing on the Moon.

This year has taught me that cinema might survive Welles omen, as The Artist in another film that reminds us of the beauty and magic that filmmaking and its thespians represent. The Artist is a love letter to cinema and its history. Reminiscent of Chaplin and the birth of the talkies, The Artists reminds us that we don’t need special effects, that we don’t even need sound to plunge into this form of art that for the first time in years is trying to go back to the basics.

I just hope that the almighty members of the Academy and their friends remember that filmmaking is not always a synonym of show business and that these movies deserve–actually have gained–a place in the history of cinema and should be deemed as modern classics. But then, that’s just me…

If you want to read that famous interview (it is in Spanish, though) click here.

The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr Morris Lessemore

Influenced by the Wizard of Oz, this animated short film reminds us that books are the stuff dreams are made of–and of course, if they make us dream, it is because they are our best friends.

If you love books, you’ll adore this film directed by William Joyce and Brandon Oldenburg. The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr Morris Lessemore is nominated in the Best Animated Short Film for the 84th Academy Awards.

Past and present, ramblings after The Help

As I was watching The Help, I couldn’t help thinking about my nannies. I had five nannies, although my parents would call them maids. My nannies weren’t as wise as the women depicted in Tate Taylor’s film, but they thought me about food, compassion and self-discipline.

My first nanny was a 16 year-old girl that couldn’t write, but she kept the house clean and was patient enough to play with me. She spoilt me with chocolates and took care of me whenever my mother had other “obligations” to fulfil: drinking tea with her sisters, visiting her mother, going shopping and cooking for my father. That nanny “left” when I was 10; my parents fired her because she killed a bird in front of me.

My other nannies were older and had a family of their own. Like some of the women in The Help, they worked six days a week cleaning and taking care of a family that wasn’t their own. They usually left on Saturday’s afternoon and returned at 7.00am on Monday. My mother wouldn’t let them use the phone. My father tried to help them. One of them, Teresa, went to school, learnt English and became a secretary. When she left us, my mother didn’t speak to my father for almost a month. “Where am I going to find another maid?” was the only thing she said to me. I took her two weeks.

My nannies don’t know about Gone with the Wind or the US South. They don’t really know about slavery, but they are quite aware of the cultural and ethnic differences that won’t let them have a different profession in their own country. Those Mexican women wanted something else in life. My last nanny worked some 15 hours a day to put her daughter through nursing school. She wanted a better future for both her daughter and her son, who wanted to become a soldier.

However my stories aren’t that old: these women worked at my parent’s house some 25 years ago. The Help develops in America in the 1960s, but racism still lurks in many, many countries.

This buildungfilm is worth watching not only because of its compelling story. Bryce Dallas Howard as Hilly Holbrook develops a multilayered character who acts based on sheer ignorance; Viola Davis as Aibileen Clark delivers a well-rounded character that makes us believe in the power of truth, and Emma Stone as Skeeter demonstrated that she can do so much more than romantic comedies.

Based on the book by Kathryn Stockett, The Help is worth watching.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J_ajv_6pUnI

 

 

After blogathon 2011

On day 31, I clicked on the wrong button. But I don’t care, after 31 days of non-stop blogging, I learn’t quite a few things:

1. You just can’t sit and write whatever comes to your mind, you have to plan it (like a printed mag).
2. Stick to the things you know.
3. Visits will drop dramatically on Sundays.
4. Make sure your audience knows who you are and what you do.
5. Edit, edit, edit: post should be succint and engaging.
6. If someone leaves a comment, answer back.
7. Post as often as possible.
8. Sometimes a video is more than enough.
9. A blog is not a Museum of you (if you want that go to www.intel.com/museumofyou).
10. A blog should open doors, always keep that in mind when you write.

Thank you to all my amazing fellow blogathoners.

Happy blog-writing!

Once upon my list

Lists and lists of writers appear every single day in different outlets; most of them include one or two women and 98 or 97 men. I won’t criticise those lists as enough has been said about them. These are the women whose books I enjoy reading, these are the women that inspire me to write.

• Sappho, the ancient Greek poet who lived in the island of Lesbos and wrote:
  Immortal Aphrodite, on your intricately brocaded throne,
  child of Zeus, weaver of wiles, this I pray:
  Dear Lady, don’t crush my heart
  with pains and sorrows.
• Sor Juana (visit Who’s that girl? The Tenth Muse).
• Jane Austen. Despite Pride and prejudice’s popularity–’Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy have always reminded me of Beatrice and Benedick in Much Ado About Nothing—Austen’s craft is better exposed in Persuasion or Mansfield Park, although my favourite will always be Northanger Abbey. 
• Mary Shelley and the Brontes. Honestly, who can resist a good Gothic story?
• George Sand, a true daughter of the French Revolution, her work was admired by Honore de Balzac and Flaubert—despite their many differences, we can see a bit of George in Emma (Madame Bovary). Read their letters to get the full picture.
• George Elliot. Without her Henry James wouldn’t be Henry James and, therefore, there would be no Edith Wharton.
• Madame D’Aulnoy. This woman coined the term fairy-tale, without her Perrault, Grimm, Andersen, et al wouldn’t exist.

• Elizabeth Browning. One of the most important poets of the Victorian era—and she was read with gusto both in America and England.
  

  Elizabeth Browning: I love thee freely, as men strive for right. I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.

• Santa Teresa de Avila’s extremely personal and mystical poetry:

Monsters, goblins and witches, oh my!

I enjoy writing and researching children’s literature. This text comes straight from the workshop I took last year at the University of Sydney.  If you are interested in Mexican children’s literature, visit www.caminoamarillo.mx. one of my research projects.

Image: http://www.garydrew.com

MONSTERLESS

I sleep with my windows open

just in case a goblin wants to drop by

I sleep with a flashlight next to my bed

just in case a ghost wants to say hi

I sleep with no pillows under my head

just in case a monster needs a bed

I wake up every morning

ready to see a ghost under my bed

but I have never found one

who wants to be my friend

Not 5 places… 5 things

Call me old-fashioned, but I always carry a notebook and my favourite pen–after all, you never know when a good idea might pop up. I write where I feel comfortable, and I have felt comfortable in the most outrageous places–like Disneyland or a restroom or a hospital.
I believe that good writing comes from within and the setting in which it is produced has no effect upon it. I can write almost everywhere, including a funeral parlour… however, there are 5 things that trigger my imagination:
1) A good ballet or yoga class.
2) A good kiss.
3) Fresh coffee.
4) The scent of a rose.
5) Silence.
I’ve never thought about this before, but I strongly believe that the first two have to do with the connection that mind and body establish. The third has to do with memory, as my father and grandfather believed that good ideas started with good coffee. The fourth has to do with my grandmother–roses trigger my favourite childhood memories. The last one, silence, is one of the things I enjoy the most. Listening to yourself, being conscious of an empty space is an essential part of the creative process as it allows you to connect with your writing.
What things inspire you? What do you do when you write?

New Scrabble words!

Who hasn’t played Scrabble? Who isn’t addicted to Words with Friends? For those of us who are sick and tired of non-creative oponents that always use the same words (yes, I’m talking to you Mr Aloha and Mr Yod), the Collins Official Scrabble Word has added some 3,000 words to their list. My new favourite Scrabble-word is blook (you’ll score 11 points if you use it).

INNIT: Short for “isn’t it?” as in “This is great, innit?”

QIN (n): A Chinese zither, with strings stretched across a flat box.

FIQH (n): An expansion of Islamic sharia law, based directly on the Koran and Sunnah.

BLOOK (n): An online book that is published via a blog (a kind of online diary).

GOBI (n): Cauliflower.

NANG (adj): Synonym of cool.

TWIGLET (n): A wheat snack.

VLOG (n): Video blogging.

Mind the accent

A few days ago someone asked “Hey Gabriela, in what language do you think?” That question–which was followed by “do you miss corn?”–was inappropriate, unacceptable.

Spanish is my native language, but I learnt English from an early age. I read Shakespeare before Cervantes, and I learnt to count from one to ten before “del uno al diez”. I grew up with songs in both languages and I sang Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer before the infamous Spanish villancicos. I studied in a bilingual school and half my family has English as a first language–in fact some of the most important people in my life do not speak Spanish. English has always come naturally to me, but I do have an accent when I open my mouth.

Some people are quite comfortable with my accent–in fact they believe that it is an asset. Some others, such as the person who asked the afore mentioned questions, feel either threatened or uncomfortable. But let me clarify something, when I open my mouth I do not sound like Sofia Vergara in Modern Family, you just can tell that I’m not Australian.

Research has demonstrated that bilingual people have certain advantages, for example they solve problems faster and they can multitask. Another study suggests that being bilingual may delay Alzheimer’s disease and boost brain power. However, those questions have given me nightmares, and I wish I had had an answer, the right answer.

A special post for me fellow Blogathoners

On this day in 1998, I stumbled upon this poem. I remember the day because I was in Boston with one of my dear friends–who then gave me the anthology in which I read this poem for the first time.The wordsmith behind it is Jalaluddin Rumi, one of the most famous Persian poets of the 13th century–his oeuvre is fill with passion, music and wisdom.

Yesterday was Haiku day and well… as you know from my earlier post, I couldn’t write one; however,  I felt obliged to share with you, fellow Blogathoners, a poem.

Below you’ll find one of my favourite poems, hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

Like this

If anyone asks you
how the perfect satisfaction
of all our sexual wanting will look,
lift your face and say,
Like this.

When someone mentions
the gracefulness of the nightsky,
climb up on the roof
and dance and say,
Like this.

If anyone wants to know
what “spirit” is,
or what “God’s fragrance” means,
lean your head toward him or her.
Keep your face there close.
Like this.

When someone quotes
the old poetic image
about clouds gradually uncovering the moon,
slowly loosen knot by knot the strings of your robe.
Like this.

If anyone wonders how Jesus raised the dead,
don’t try to explain the miracle.
Kiss me on the lips.
Like this.
Like this.