Thursday,15 April '09: My verdict? American filmaking at its best

Another pleasant moment of the long weekend was viewing 'The Verdict' (1982) with the inimitable Paul Newman. Leone and I tasted her delicious beef casserole and sipped our glasses of fruity dry white in silence, eyes fixed to the screen. Both of us had seen the movie years before; both us had long forgotten the twists and turns of the plot. What do you remember?

Paul Newman plays a down and out lawyer, divorced, disillusioned and hitting the bottle far too often. The only case he has is almost impossible to win. He resists being fobbed off with a generous out of court settlement. Instead, in the interests of honour and right, he risks the court and the verdict of a jury and takes on the combined powers of the Church, an illustrious law firm and a biased judge. Charlotte Rampling plays Jezebel to Newman's jaded Galahad. She is sloe-eyed, wan, desperate and unscrupulous. Was there a feminist outcry in 1982 when an outraged and betrayed Paul Newman struck her through the face, throwing her to the floor and drawing blood? I cannot remember.

The genius of the movie is that it is restrained; the courtroom interactions are understated. And the director, thank goodness, resists the temptation of providing a glib, happy ending. Now this is what I call American filmaking at its best!

Tuesday, 14 April '09: Musings on the Muse

The nice thing about a long weekend is the chance to read without interruption. With satisfaction, I completed a newly published novel (2009): The Piano Teacher by Janice Y.K. Lee. Part love story, part thriller, the book is set in post-war Hong Kong with flashbacks to the main action which occurs following the fall of the British colony to the Japanese and the Occupation.

But a book review is not my intention. Charlotte Bronte, quoted by Lee, said, "The writer who possesses the creative gift owns something of which he is not always master, something that at times strangely wills and works for itself." And Lee writes about her own craft, saying that the book began as a short story (so did the popular 'Madonnas of Leningrad' which many bloggers have enjoyed). Her own childhood and life in Hong Kong provided the authenticity of the detailed backdrop. But what interested me was that the novel evolved without an outline or a plot. Lee created two characters, then another two sprang to life. For five years she kept writing: allowing her characters to converse, interact and act. They dictated the story. Lee never knew how the book was going to end. Propelled by her characters she 'kept trying to get them out of sticky situations'. The result is an intriguing book, with an exquisitely delicate touch and an unexpected ending.

There are several novelists (and some emerging while I talk) among the bloggers I know. How does the Muse lead you? I would love to know!

Monday, 13 April '09: Easter Monday

Easter-wings by George Herbert (1593-1633)

Lord, who createdst man in wealth and store,

Though foolishly he lost the same,

Decaying more and more,

Till he became

Most poore:

With thee

O let me rise

As larks, harmoniously,

And sing this day thy victories:

Then shall the fall further the flight in me.

My tender age in sorrow did beginne:

And still with sicknesses and shame

Thou didst so punish sinne,

That I became

Most thinne.

With thee

Let me combine

And feel this day thy victorie:

For, if I imp my wing on thine,

Affliction shall advance the flight in me.

* To imp - to graft on new feathers to the wing of a falcon

Saturday, 11 March '09: Holy Thursday Seder Meal

" I just had a look at your blog and the picture is rather old!" emailed my friend, Lydia from Australia.
Oophs! My excuse is that this past week has been a short one in South Africa. South Africans still have a long Easter week:Good Friday and Easter Monday are public holidays. And I was busy all week with the preparations for the traditional Holy Thursday Seder meal held annually at Thatchwick. This year the guest list, like Topsy, grew and grew ending with sixteen friends. So furniture had to be moved and tables joined so that we could all sit down to a three course dinner: chicken soup and matzos dumplings; roast lamb and trimmings; sweet Greek desserts of custard, nuts and honey. Above is our lovely Seder plate.



Isabella, the youngest guest, asked the question: "Why is this night different fron all other nights?" At that special moment, a little prompting was needed from brother Daniel. I wrote a special liturgy for our meal in which everyone had a part: a scripture, a prayer, a blessing. Together we remembered the deliverance of the Israelites from Egypt; the last Passover which Jesus ate with his disciples on the night He was betrayed; His passion and resurrection. Suddenly everyone had another metaphor or symbols linked to this ancient Jewish meal, which they wanted to share.
Unfortunately I only had time for a photo of the table before the guests arrived. The intention to take loads of shots was lost amidst the scurrying around serving.


At midpoint in our meal, we broke bread together as a Christian fellowship. The three children were entranced by the solemnity of the moment as we passed the cup around the table and broke pieces from the Kifka loaf.

The Easter lights were lit at the beginning of the meal. The Holy Thursday meal is a special event at Thatchwick and each year the guests leave touched and transformed by this little ritual. On Good Friday I was on duty at church. We are currently holding an Easter conference and the church was overflowing with about 2 000 people of every cultural background you can imagine. My friends who attend other congregations also reported a bumper turnout for the Good Friday morning service. Leone commented, "I had couldn't get parking at church this morning. I had to drive round and round the block to find a spot!"

Thursday, 2 April '09: Discovering my world: Irma Stern

Blogging has become a way of appreciating my own world: its people, history, flora and fauna. Here are a few of the bold, emotionally intense paintings of Irma Stern, early South African artist (1894-1966). Above is the Cape flowerseller with proteas.

Irma Stern was born to German Jewish parents in the remote town of Schweizer-Renecke in the hot, dry North West province of South Africa where her father ran a trading store. Irma's life, however, was not confined. She and her parents travelled intermittently between Europe and South Africa.

Her parents welcomed her ambition to become a painter. She spent the years of the WWI in Germany where she studied under the Expressionist, Max Pechstein. On her return to South Africa, her art was derided and misunderstood in the conservative Cape Town of the 1920's. Reviews declared: Art of Miss Irma Stern: Ugliness as a cult.

But by the '40s Irma was an established artist. Her travels to Europe were cut short by WWII; instead Irma travelled into the interior of Africa, to Zanzibar and the Congo, where the colours of the produce at the food markets, the dress of the diverse peoples and the tropical landscapes inspired her striking paintings.

Irma's home in Rosebank, Cape Town has become the Irma Stern Museum administered by the University of Cape Town. Her studio remains unaltered and the Museum houses selected works and travelling exhibitions. Do visit on your next trip. You know, that first time ever trip to South Africa that you have been promising yourself!

Irma's comment on the creative process: "I work a long time at a picture in my head...I never touch the canvas after it is finished."