Edward the Confessor's Dream

 From Mat Vašíček’s album "Salt Hill", production by Thomas de Balder, guest artists Ivana Morysová and Louise Hallgren. For more information visit www.matmusic.cz.

Two monks came to me the other night

And said God had set on us evil spirits

"God'll have no mercy?" said I.

"Oh, he will when a tree cleft in two

By a lightning stroke

Should grow back together on its own accord."

Are we past the time of mending trees?

Is now the era of big lightning strokes?

Is it pointless to endeavor?

For no tree cleft in two by a lightning stroke

Will grow back together on its own accord.

A tree cleft in two

By a lightning stroke

Will never grow back,

Will never grow...

Two monks came to me the other night

They said our sins made God set on us

Evil spirits that will never go

They will never leave

They will never go

On their own

Accord....

A Coyote on the Streets of Los Angeles: A "Nightcrawler" Review

Do not be deceived. Under all that, Lou Bloom is an animal.

Dan Gilroy’s 2014 neo-noir film Nightcrawler is a critical look at contemporary American news through the camera lens of lead character Louis Bloom, played by Jake Gyllenhaal. Joining Gyllenhaal on the ride through the lamp-lit streets of Los Angeles on the hunt for the city’s worst moments is British actor Riz Ahmed playing the role of unpaid intern Rick Carey. On the receiving end of Bloom’s nightmare footage is news director Nina Romina portrayed by the deadly Rene Russo. Rounding out the cast is Bill “Game Over Man” Paxton as a competing nightcrawler and the first piece of real meat for Lou to sink his teeth into.

The movie immediately sets the mood, with still, yet haunting, shots of a Los Angeles evening, setting a stage we would see throughout most of the film. Gilroy’s script does an equally apt job introducing Gyllenhaal’s character and instantly informing the audience that there is something off about him. From his first interaction with another character to his later business dealings, Louis Bloom is quickly set up as a sleazy and slightly off-kilter being who won’t take ‘no’ for an answer too easily. Gyllenhaal’s performance is enhanced by a near unblinking gaze, which after a while becomes greatly unnerving. The actor adapts a stare that is both dead eyed and yet hints at a viciousness that comes out in the way he speaks and operates. The saying that a man’s soul resides in his eyes is very true in this case, since as the plot progresses, and the audience stares into Bloom’s eyes a bit longer, a sort of understanding of who this character is, and the terrifying lengths that he will go to, is born.

Complimenting Bloom is Nina Romina, the woman to whom Bloom sells most of his footage into the ratings-driven, fear mongering nature of local news. At one point, she explains to Bloom that what she is after the ‘woman, screaming and on fire with a slit throat’s variety of footage. Russo does an amazing job portraying someone who has a deeper understanding of Bloom and often either complements or hinders him in his progress.

The story is a basic rags-to-riches tale and mostly serves as a sort of Petri dish, throwing in different situations and adversities and then sitting back and seeing just how each of the characters, with a specific focus on Lou Bloom, deals with the presented situation, both physically and morally. In fact, some of the most interesting and tense moments come from the way Bloom operates at a crime scene and his reactions to the gruesome things around him.

Overall, while all the cast members do an amazing job and the satire often hits the mark, a rare feat in some cases, it is Gyllenhaal’s performance that elevates the movie and enables it to stand apart from everything else within the genre.

-          Andrew J. Buring, Esq.

Review: Interstellar

This motion picture features the elite of current Hollywood artists, including, for example, Christopher Nolan as the director, brilliant Matthew McConaughey in the leading role, and also the music composer, the one and only, Hanz Zimmer. Well, do you ask whether this all-star team worked well to produce a masterpiece? Let’s discuss the premise (but the answer is “no”, anyway).

As we might have expected from Nolan, one of the major strength of the movie is its visual impact. If I am to sum up the plot, it is about a space journey to find a “new World” to live in, for the Earth is not co-operating with humanity anymore. Blight (whatever that actually is) is destroying all grains except for corn which is unfortunately also to be doomed by blight, (what I found quite peculiar was that the main character drank beer all the time, sorry Mr. Nolan, you also need grain to make beer). So there’s this secret NASA program to launch a shuttle with explorers to find a new sufficient place for the humans to carry on living.

This is basically the synopsis; however, the movie tries to function on an emotional level as well, very badly though. For starters, the characters are not written very well, or not presented in a way so that one could actually relate to any of them. To be honest, I considered the on-board robot TARS (voice-acted by Bill Irwin) as the character with most personality, all the other characters were plain and there was always somebody new to show up for no reason (which is not surprising as the film runs about three very long hours) which makes it confusing and annoying.  Overall I felt like I was watching two very different movies, one was the new space odyssey and I more or less enjoyed the spectacular views and the drama in space, and the other was an incoherent emotional mishmash of personality-lacking characters (except for Murph, who emerges as an adult in the second half of the movie).

The end of the film is just bad: there is the “touching speech track” in the back as it usually happens in such big American movies, about the resilience of humanity, while McConaughey’s character Cooper sneaks into a super modern and for some reason unguarded hangar, gets into a space ranger and flies away to help his friend... There’s this feeling of cheesiness present throughout the movie, it always surprises you, for the movie is basically about space stuff. But no, then they tell you that love is actually the fifth dimension, erm…

There is something I’d like to consider, that is, the fact that this film can be produced only in America. I am not talking the money here, I am talking the Frontier, the imaginary line which has been pushed forward by the American people, first into the previously unoccupied West, then further! It is also an idea, a promise to destroy poverty, to expand to new virgin lands, to conquer the outer space and so on. This movie shows an attempt to push the Frontier once more; the New World is no longer good for living and people, and it is the people of America that matter and make action, design space craft to push the humanity forward, “again”. Well, it certainly does look stupendous when there’s the American flag flying on an unknown planet behind the curtain of a wormhole, I can give them that one.

In conclusion I shall not surprise you by neglecting my attitude, the movie is indeed a mess, a note-worthy, overwhelming and at times entertaining mess, so don’t worry, just sit back, relax and enjoy it.

Matěj Vašíček

"I Origins" - A Review

I have called ‘dibs’ on reviewing this picture, for it struck me with an overwhelming power and sincerity.  One may stop right now and consider the title – I Origins. Well, primarily, the movie tells a story about a PhD student in New York City whose major is science - he studies the ‘eye’, eyes of life forms.

Please, do not be deterred by this fact; yes, it is actual science and has nothing to do with what we do at the Faculty of Arts and it might be scary (although, sadly, a lot of people at our faculty use the word ‘science’ exceedingly often, as though they actually believe that what they do is science), but the movie is not only about eyes! This student, called Ian Grey, attempts to discover a connection between the iris pattern (use Wikipedia) in one’s eyes and some kind of re-incarnation. So the ‘I’ in the title could stand both for ‘eye’ and ‘I’, the first-person pronoun, because the film is concerned with the origin of both eyes (to show the creationists that the eye is not really such a complex thing and that it did not have to be introduced by some kind of a ‘creator’ – God, of course) and the origin of a person’s consciousness, character features, memories and so on.

In this review, or whatever I am actually doing, I’d also like to focus on the female part of the cast, both Brit Marling (whom I find insanely attractive, for she sort of has the air of some ‘visible intelligence’, if you will) and the other actress, some Spanish lass, were absolutely believable that I had a feeling that neither of them is acting anything. These two female characters were written as each other’s counterparts, Sofi (played by the Spanish girl) is an aloof, childish, gorgeous and superstitious lady with her head in the clouds. On the other hand, Karen (as if the names actually support the difference, right?) is a reasonable, beautiful, strict woman who believes in science and fact. This difference is important, for they both represent a certain attitude towards life and religion. Ian encounters both of them and it influences him in pursuing what he does. I especially appreciated Karen’s reason when she caught Ian looking at pictures of his former lady, Karen does not give way to any kind of a hissy fit, no - she just calmly asks for an explanation.

There is quite a lot going on in the movie and there are a few moments that seemed to me like an emotional slap in the face - I wept. Despite the rather emotional ending, it does not give you a clear conclusion, as life never does, eh? Well, I shall tell no more. Enjoy!

Matěj Vašíček

A Transbalkanian Journey

July 31, 18:43

I am not quite sure what the time is and I don’t really have the strength or will to take my cell out of my pocket to check. I don’t really know where I am either, yet it certainly feels like an odd place to be, so different than what I am used to, new to my eyes, to all my senses. That is funny, since I am on my way home and the closer I get to it the more out of place I feel.

We are in the middle of Hungary, heading to Serbia and then all the way down to the sunny land of Macedonia. The gas station by itself is quite fine, all the luxuries of a gas station included - by that I mean it has a working toilet with soap and toilet paper. We didn’t have many of those ten years ago. I finish smoking my cigarette, still my frozen fingers hold on to the filter. My fingers seem to be more in shock than me – I’m too tired and sleep-deprived to be in shock. But images stick to my red eyes and sounds enter my clogged ears just to end up as impressions strong enough to write about, like premonitions hinting to what awaits me in the few days to come. They peculiarly make me feel like Bram Stocker’s Jonathan Harker, a most unfortunate traveler going from the civilized London to the depths of the Carpathian mountains, right into Transylvania’s heart and into Count Dracula’s hungry mouth...

July 31, 19:50

I do, however, intend to be smarter and less ignorant than Mr. Harker, listening carefully to the signs my fate whispers to me on my journey. There is no way I intend to be eaten. And in no way I am comparing my home country to the tale's Transylvania and my house to Dracula’s castle. Yet I am at a stage in my life, when four years of living in the Western world are enough to make my journey to the East a cultural (besides the thermal) shock.

It all began in my lovely Prague, when I took the nice subway, relaxing music playing in my earphones all the way, pulled my slightly overweight fancy suitcase and reached the bus that was to take me home. I was then forced to leave this world of mine and focus on reality: the loud bus drivers piling up suitcases, constantly shouting at each other, noisy people speaking the language that was my mother tongue but I failed to recognize for a few minutes, the four other relatives of every travelling person that kept on talking to the relative that leaves, listing all the people they need to send their greetings to. Then there were the ones that sent out packages to their relatives, packages that made me wonder if they aren’t sending them cars packed up in IKEA bags. My suitcase was in the bus so I waited in line to pay for my ticket – two people were before me, yet another guy budged in, saying he only wants to ask something real fast, yet ends up letting five other people in the line meanwhile. I get frustrated and I haven’t even left, is what I think. What the hell’s next?

July 31, 21:20

I now know the answer to that one. Whoever wants to know the sound of a transbalkanian journey should google “turbofolk”. It’s as bad as it sounds. I could survive traditional folk music but not this s*it. It all sounds the same: it's a weird mixture of folk and pop music, the lyrics are plain horrible and I cannot possibly understand how a person can listen to that thing for HOURS without becoming deaf and stupid. It soon becomes a background noise, for co-travellers start conversing and getting to know each other, you know, so that they have a more pleasant journey. It tires me to talk to someone for 18 hours straight – I have tried it and hated it, the girl wouldn’t let me sleep and felt the utmost necessity to let me to know every detail of the places she goes to in my hometown and all the famous jet-setters she hangs out with in Skopje. It is important to be somebody in the capital and you have to hang out with the crème to be that someone. It's more important than doing something universally prosperous, like making the world a better place or even finding a job. Thus I don’t talk, and sometimes I wish I couldn’t hear as well. Old people just keep complaining about their visit – it was too rainy, too many eccentrics, oh my GOD they have gays and so on. They are stuck to the little box they come from and they don’t want to appreciate what they see outside, just because it is different. I hate close-minded and limited people. And I seem to come from the nation of the limited. Great. The best ones, however, are not the visiting tourists but the ones living abroad long-term, like me, the ones who visit the little box of sunshine instead. They just won’t let go of it – everything is better at home, food sucks, Czechs are too cold, too many gays, they only hang out with Macedonians…Why, oh why do they live there if they hate it? Why are they ungrateful for the opportunities, unable to create a new life for themselves? I realize I judge too hard, but these ten people in the bus just remind me of the rest of my nation, unable to fight, grow strong and prosper – not because they are incapable of doing so, but because they are afraid.

August 1, 01:12

I try to get used to the fact that I will be amidst such people during my stay at home. And while my internal fight continues (and ends as night falls and the cold comes) so does the landscape change, together with the surrounding people and languages. The gypsy woman washing her hair in the lavatory, the bus driver handing his passport with a fifty euro bill in it to the border police, the garbage this guy just threw out of the bus window, the seatbelts getting completely ignored by the drivers… Images stick to me even when I am not aware of it. They create the image of home, how home feels and looks like after four years of being away and how it will only get worse with the many more years to come.

August 1, 07:33

As morning draws closer and the air gets warmer a new smell comes with it – the smell of a hot, dry summer in the land of the sneaky sun, that gets not only on your skin, but under it as well, warms up all the coldness and strictness you have gathered while being away from it. I look at the faces around me, the ones that looked so ugly in the Hungarian and Serbian nights, and when I look at them closer, I realize we all look the same right now. We all smile with our brown and hazel eyes, smile to the morning sun that glistens on the bus windows.

August 2, 21:45

I sit in darkness right now and have no idea what the time is – I am so engrossed in writing down my transbalkanian journey that I can’t bring my eyes to look down at the clock on my computer screen. I think I am sitting at my balcony, yet I am not sure – I might as well be in heaven now. Heaven must be just as warm and and as fragrant as this air around me. I just finished eating the best watermelon in my life. Ok, well I know I said the one yesterday was the best, but I think I lied. It literally cracked when I slid the knife into it, and it was the perfect blend of pink and red, juicy and crunchy. The plate is empty but the ashtray is full. I didn’t smoke four years ago, it slightly unnerves me I have to carry the ashtray around with me now. This is home. A slightly different home, I am aware of that. Different is not bad, unless you take into account Dracula. Then different is always a bad idea. Yet the only Draculas around me are my three fluffy cats, the three sisters. And a few of those bites I think I can handle.

Anastasia Siljanoska

The Musicalities of July and August

I was hoping to write quite an ordinary article about the Colours of Ostrava festival, using phrases like 'colorful, but stitched together from fine materials' confidently, making you aware of the many wonderful acts performing there or navigating you through the city, elaborately describing every band's style, all serious stuff like that.

But since it was a festival about music, it is the songs that can navigate you through my experience; which, on top of that, is all too intimate to be read as more than a diary entry, really. Sure, I will give you written hints – but mere names would be all mute. So, without further warning, here's the first bit.

Matt Berninger goes into the crowd during “Mr. November.”

If I'd say I was going there to see The National, it would be partly true. Lots of bigger or smaller (namely Chet Faker or Ólafur Arnalds) acts I like were going to be there, but The National? A treat! Of course, you can feel the atmosphere only partly from shitty videos like this. But, for sure, the lead singer taking a little walk is a sensation (even if he does it regularly). Mr. Berninger coolly strolling on the stage, drinking his wine, dived into the people with the strangest kind of self-confidence.

Sir Robert Plant & Sensational Spaceshifters!

Old, but still roarin'. Mr. Plant's got it all – the voice, the ideas. The performance was not his only, as the band stole a large portion of the spotlight. The guitar in the classic Led Zeppelin song “Going to California” was so crafty I could not believe my ears (Jimmy Page wearing a mask?). Gradual tasting of new sounds from an upcoming album was keeping on toes even the most devoted Led Zep fans, who waited to sweat their four-symbols-T-shirts to “Babe I'm Gonna Leave You.”

Well, those were the big names! Of the acts completely unknown to me beforehand – here are some that really got my full attention. They were all excellent performers.

Seasick Steve, whose pal playing drums looks even older than he does, but the energy! Makes his own guitars out of beer cans, vacuum cleaners (and at one point the drummer became 'broommer,' producing the rhythm in a rather unusual (sweepy) way (sounded awesome, though; gotta tell mum):

Denver Broncos UK, “the band with the native American girl in it”; their sound was so full of quietness that they stood out in the ocean of noise:

Graveyard Train, with their chains 'n' voices:

Musicalities of August

OK, here we go. (“Can he get even more personal? What is this – a space for showin' off?!”) I know this is supposed to be more or less coherent – but not only Ostrava stays tuned during the summer.

Prague's MeetFactory brought the legendary, un-thought, un-hoped-of experience.

Neutral Milk Hotel were in town. If you don't know them – give it a try. That should be enough, I'll leave it as it is.

And just this Saturday, Jakub and Hanka, two classmates of mine (or maybe even your mates as well) performed in Napa Bar. Naming the event “The Last Last Sprinkles gig” was not that a bright idea as a) we want more and b) none of the explanations of “Why Last Sprinkles exactly?” were all too satisfying. The all-acoustic show was great and the duo even sang “Bloodbuzz Ohio” by The National (see the coherence?). But one singer-songwriter should be especially mentioned, as the event was somewhat a reaction to his performance:

Charlie Rayne and “Laura's Song” from the EP Thirty Sunsets.

Jakub performed Charlie's “Blue Eyes” and a few of his own stuff as well – while Hanka accompanied him with her voice and played the piano. In a couple of songs they were even joined by their friend playing cello.

And that's practically all you could have been missing and I've been hearing! At least I tried to transmit some of the vibes here and there – if you'd like, you can follow Charlie's facebook page (https://www.facebook.com/CharlieRayneMusic) as he will be touring in two months and Prague is surely going to be a stop. But even until then I'm sure there will be some live performance I'll be surprised and amazed by.

Luke Red

Nymphomaniac’s Art: Who Says Sex?

“I will be against all odds standing like this deformed tree on the hill”, says Joe (Charlotte Gainsbourg) in Nymphomaniac:Volume 2 just before her very sweet friend and interlocutor, Seligman (Stellan Skarsgård), starts kindly persuading her in having a sexual intercourse with him. She screams, shoots the poor old man and leaves the damn apartments. Too perplexing for the body and too dashing for the soul, Lars von Trier’s Nymphomaniac: Volume 1 and 2 (together only) is a fascinating non-sexy novel with four hours of complete poetic distortion and sensual investigation. Extensive discussions about the film were brought up long before its first opening night. No wonder: the director, who has given a lifetime ban from the Cannes Film Festival an account of his sympathy with Adolf Hitler and whose films are always provocative and (or) sexual stories, was expected to bring a new portion of uneven shock in his new dark drama.

When I got the first lovely volume I was much confused that this film was intended for the public eyes. Or better to say, adopted for them? It struck me as something that played a joke with my own expectations. Its intimate privacy went too deep inside my own privacy, so to say.  However, I do not mean sexual scenes at this point. Who was looking for sex hardly found any there. Yes, a modest sadist, a screaming betrayed wife and Joe’s multicultural sexual exploits with different types of penises are super detailed but von Trier’s might be that kind of a director who tricks its audience fiercely. Thus this was art or the hint at art at the minimum. At least for me. What kind of art? It is the art that annoys. Remember? Joe is travelling across her extended chapters and looking for the signs on the walls in the apartments while virginal Seligman with blissful face reduces (or extends?) all her provocative creeds to mathematical laws and ecclesiastical dogmas. It is the art that triggers. Something under my skin to be squeezed, something inside my brains to think silently about the movie on the way home in a crowded lonely tram. No fantasies here: just a story of how to be who you are, enjoy it yet pay for it soon after.

As minutes passed by it has become clear that all that actually makes sense. The darkened flashy drama with a brilliant cast, energised settings in Cologne and juicy shots has brought real physical bruises on the screen and mental ones for my mind. It is always more important what your deeds have done to you that what you actually has done. The deformed tree is vital by itself. Even if you f*cked thousands of men. 

- Margo Kirlan

The Four-Part Tale of Mariella

A large 3-1 on the wall,

10 months since New Year's have passed.

A girl runs down the hall –

Halloween is here at last!

"Mother!" she cries room to room.

"Tonight Halloween's Eve is;

Give me a hat, cat and broom

Up as a witch I shall dress!"

"No," said sharply her mother

"You will at home sit and stay.

With your costume I won't bother –

This Eve in bed you will lay."

Mariella cried and weeped;

Into her green eyes tears got

To then fall to mother's feet -

But yet the wish has changed not.

--------------------------------------------

That Eve in bed the girl lies –

Listening to the street's laughter

With wide-open and sad eyes

And thoughts in the mind gather.

Though night, outside much light was.

Insomniac, confused, bored –

"Mum's wish has no reason, cause!"

Anger in her blood roamed.

Out of bed the girl then went,

Knowing what she will now do!

To the lowest shelf she bent

And found a tube: instant glue.

--------------------------------------------

"If a witch I cannot be,

As a pumpkin head I'll go!"

With a smile on face thought she

 And excitement in blood flow.

Orange paint on fingertips

She smudges it across her face;

The bright color off it drips-

hence gone is her childish grace!

"Now the grand finale is!"

And opens the instant glue.

As lipstick she the glue uses

Having now one lip, not two.

Black teeth drawn around the mouth

"Perfect!" But in her mind was that.

For her lips moved no more south.

Smiling, she put on a straw hat.

-----------------------------------------------

'Mariella!" high-pitched cry

Turn around: mother at door.

'You up at this hour, why?"

And from shock fell down to the floor.

The girl her shoulders squared

And walked by her mother past

In costume she was not scared

And with glued lips that Eve, she had a blast.

- Anna Hupcejová

Event planner: I am fishead.

Dear readers,

This is to inform you about an upcoming event which is to take place on Saturday April 27th. Feel free to come. For more details, see the link below:

http://www.divus.cc/praha/cs/article/b-i-am-fishead-b-movie-exhibition

I will be looking forward to seeing you there.

David Stringbreaker

"The Analyses" – Interview with its authors.

Václav Gabriel Piňos is currently reading English Language & Literature at the University of Oxford; he writes short stories and poems as well as drama.

Ian Mikyska is about to begin studying classical composition at the Guildhall School of Music & Drama in London, and works mainly as a composer of concert music and music for the theatre.

First and foremost, in your own words: what is “The Analyses” about?

Ian: The subtitle of the show is “The Story of Little Miss Reading.” Misreading and the way texts can be manipulated - and the disparate motivations that are at the basis of these often wilful misreading – are at the centre of the play, in this particular instance the texts are musical, written by the main character, a composer.

Václav: The eponymous analyses occupy an ambiguous space. Partly they are critical accretion on the composer’s work, but they are also, in their wilful and often absurd methods and conclusions, aesthetic objects in their own right. As such they aren’t divorced from the world, however, but are the tool in power-struggles (which we focus primarily on questions of sexuality and gender) enacted beneath the veneer of interpretation.

What was your muse (a book, poem, musical piece) when writing the play?

Václav: The narrative of the piece is traditional – the futile attempt to understand a single simple factual point about an artist’s mind which could immediately elucidate all of her or his intellectual output. “Svatý Xaverius! by Jakub Arbes and Henry James’ “The Figure in the Carpet” are just two texts which exemplify this narrative.

Ian: The other strand was more direct – the life of the composer Alois Piños (1925-2008), Václav’s grandfather. Rather than try and research his life and write a “bio-pic,” we decided to take on his role in a more general sense, particularly in relation to the themes of legacy and heredity that were already mentioned.

What was the biggest challenge when writing or realizing “The Analyses”?

Ian: The play features a lot of extremely dense, fast, academic dialogue which will seem absurd when heard on stage, but which develops the dynamic and relationships between characters. The trouble was to get those things across through the actors whilst still occasionally trying to get the meaning of certain lines across without slowing down the pace or simplifying it too much.

If you were to condense “The Analyses” in a single sentence, what would it be

(its genre, main theme – ex. “A story of…”)?

Václav: A playful if alarming parody of gender, conveyed through semanticized absurdism and an old man’s existential doubts.

When and where can one see your creation?

The 11th to the 13th of April at Divadlo Inspirace on Malostranské náměstí. You can watch the trailer on https://vimeo.com/62767158 and reserve tickets on http://www.blrtheatre.com/#!analyses/c1rwx; group ticket discounts are available. More information available on the event’s Facebook page http://www.facebook.com/events/562902813743256/?fref=ts.