Here After

Directed by Clint Eastwood
Produced by Steven Spielberg, Kathleen Kennedy Frank Marshall

How does a spaghetti western actor evolve to one of the greatest and most sensitive story tellers of our time? In most of his movies, I have been left touched and fulfilled. He broke my heart in Bridges of Madison County, he continued to do so even more with Million Dollar Baby and now Here After. Even when he goes back to the genre that lifted him to fame, he weaves a tale that even a non-western fan can identify and be touched by.

Here After is a beautiful movie about the here after and even as a non believer, I accept, for the two hours, that this place exists. If you’ve ever lost someone close, you have no choice but to be drawn in and accept the possibility that there is that place. This is what movies are about and this is why we love watching them, to be enveloped by the possibility the film presents and to just let it take us there.

I love the way this movie is put together. It reminded me a little of M. Night Shyamalan in his earlier days when you were not quite sure where the movie was taking you. The tragedy about Shyamalan is that you now do, and the triumph of Eastwood is that you still don’t know what to expect and are happy to sit back and let the story unfold because at the end, you know it is something profound that you are going to come away with.

In this one, you have seemingly unrelated characters that you know and hope have to converge somewhere but not quite sure how or when. And when they eventually do, they fit in perfectly together. It is kind of like the peeled onion being put together, layer by layer, and the emotion also goes in reverse as the onion goes back to it’s original form. Ultimately no tears, and the world is as it should be.

I also love the way in which real life events help form significant moments in the movie. To reveal what they are would be to spoil the enjoyment so let’s just say these moments are heart wrenching.

What a wonderful story. I still think that psychics are master statisticians, but that did not take away from my enjoyment of this most beautiful movie.

Four spoons

Note: Matt Damon looks nothing like the poster image. Dude has aged, and he's allowed.
Another note: Incase you are still wondering whether to rent the dvd, the writer (Robert Morgan) also did screenplays for: Frost/Nixon, The Queen, The Last King of Scotland, and many others…
And yet another note: Clint Eastwood did the beautiful and haunting music for the movie as well.

What are some of your best Woody Allen flicks

It’s been a while since i’ve thoroughly enjoyed a Woody Allen movie. I think this (while) started when he stopped playing his own characters and pawned them off to his actors. I particularly cringed at Kenneth Branagh portrayal of what should have been a Woody Allen character.

Yes, that’s it, I stopped enjoying Woody Allen characters when he removed himself from his scripts. He started writing his character (the neurotic-inappropriately-honest-and-insightful-nerdy-older guy) for other people like Kenneth Branagh in Celebrity and Larry David in Whatever Works. And then he completely started writing himself out of scripts and the only way to identify his movies is through the font of the opening titles and less so through the dialogue which he was so amazing at crafting.

I don’t think I have a favourite Woody Allen movie, it is not Annie Hall (that was before my time), and it’s not Match Point nor Deconstructing Harry, nor Mighty Aphrodite. I don’t have a favourite Woody Allen movie because all of them put together, all the conversations and twisted but true observations about relationships in his movies are just one movie really, with different players and plots.

You had me at hello

Romance, or my idea of it anyway, is built from bits and pieces of mushy speeches and memorable moments from some of the greatest romantic flicks, recent and not so recent. Moments that touched the very core of my mushy bone and ruined every romantic moment I would ever have.

Not to say that life is devoid of poetry and romance. In fact, it is everywhere. It’s poetic that we are who we are, where we are in this moment. It is poetic that we make connections that make a meaningful impact in our lives. There’s poetry in moments, there's poetry in spaces, there's poetry in the chaos and the plan. and it extends from a second to an eternity.

But back to the best romantic speeches and moments in celluloid of all time:

In no particular order, (as long as Chasing Amy is number 1) here some of my favourites:

Chasing Amy (where Amy is the one that Silent Bob let get away):

Scene, Alysia and Holden are driving home in the rain after having a meal where Alysia buys Holden a painting to mark their friendship and their moment, Holden can't stand it anymore and says:

I love you. And not, not in a friendly way, although I think we're great friends. And not in a misplaced affection, puppy-dog way, although I'm sure that's what you'll call it. I love you. Very, very simple, very truly.

You are the epitome of everything I have ever looked for in another human being. And I know that you think of me as just a friend, and crossing that line is the furthest thing from an option you would ever consider.

But I had to say it. I just, I can't take this anymore. I can't stand next to you without wanting to hold you. I can't, I can't look into your eyes without feeling that, that longing you only read about in trashy romance novels. I can't talk to you without wanting to express my love for everything you are.

And I know this will probably queer our friendship - no pun intended - but I had to say it, because I've never felt this way before, and I don't care. I like who I am because of it. And if bringing this to light means we can't hang out anymore, then that hurts me.

But God, I just, I couldn't allow another day to go by without just getting it out there, regardless of the outcome, which by the look on your face is to be the inevitable shoot-down. And, you know, I'll accept that.

But I know...I know that some part of you is hesitating for a moment, and if there is a moment of hesitation, then that means you feel something too. All I ask, please, is that you just, you just not dismiss that - and try to dwell in it for just ten seconds.

Alyssa, there isn't another soul on this fucking planet who has ever made me half the person I am when I'm with you, and I would risk this friendship for the chance to take it to the next plateau. Because it is there between you and me. You can't deny that.

Even if, you know, even if we never talk again after tonight, please know that I'm forever changed because of who you are and what you've meant to me, which - while I do appreciate it - I'd never need a painting of birds bought at a diner to remind me of.

My other favourite is from the English Patient

ALMÁSY: I claim this shoulder blade - oh no, wait - I want this! He turns her over, kisses her throat, then traces the hollow indentation.

This - what's it called? - this place, I love it - this is mine! (Katharine doesn't know)I'm asking the King permission to call it the Almasy Bosphorous.

And of course Brokeback Mountain:

Jack Twist: Tell you what, we coulda had a good life together, fuckin' real good life! Had us a place of our own. But you didn't want it, Ennis! So what we got now is Brokeback Mountain! Everything's built on that, that's all we got boy, fuckin' all. So I hope you know that, if you don't never know the rest! You count the damn few times we have been together in nearly twenty years and you measure the short fucking leash you keep me on, and then you ask me about Mexico and tell me you'll kill me for needing somethin' I don't hardly never get. You have no idea how bad it gets! I'm not you... I can't make it on a coupla high-altitude fucks once or twice a year! You are too much for me Ennis, you son of a whoreson bitch... I wish I knew how to quit you.

Ennis Del Mar: Well why don't you? Why don't you just let me be, huh? Because of you, Jack, that I'm like this. I'm nothing... and nowhere.

Before Sunrise

Jesse: [stops Celine and positions her in front of him at arm's length]
Celine: What?
Jesse: Uh... I'm gonna take your picture. So I never forget you or, uh, or all this.
Celine: Okay. Me too.

Neither has a camera…

Eat Pray Love

I don’t like making fun of people; I only like making fun of the characters they play. And the characters they play aren’t real so their feelings can’t be hurt except within the realm of the piece of work they are in. And we are not in the realm of eat pray love. Although it is based on real people and experiences…. Hhhmmm. I declare that as soon as memoirs and autobiographies are portrayed in a movie by actors, it is okay to make fun of those characters as comment on the delivery and not the people they portray. (makes sense right?)

Right, having said that, it gives me license to nominate and award blathering-idiot-scene-of-the-year to the roof top scene where Richard from Texas spills his guts to Liz about why he is in India. Personally, I think that scene should have been played straight. It should have been, I am here because blah blah blah. Instead, you have this build up and build up and build up and expect a really horrifying story because of the emotion put into the telling of it. But it turns out it isn’t. I was so irritated and annoyed because I too had invested in the scene only to be let down by a stupid almost moment.

I fought with this movie, I avoided the book because motivational books are just not my cup of tea. We all have our paths and one person’s beaten track may not necessarily be our own. So I fought and fought and won. I don’t like the movie. I don’t like its message, I have little in common with Liz and I don’t think I like her as a person (the character of her that is).

But the book did resonate with a lot of women and I can understand that. My ‘eat pray love’ moment (if I have one) is captured in an interview Oprah did with her:

"I had so given up on that. I mean, I was in Rome, I was in Italy where people are, like, making love on the sidewalks," she says. "And I just remember looking at them and thinking, 'This is not for you. You're going to have a different kind of life. Like, other people get this. You don't get this. But that's okay.' And then I got it."

Liz fell in love with a Brazilian man named Felipe. In the book, Liz writes, "Felipe finally put his palm against my cheek and said, 'That's enough, darling. Come to my bed now.' And I did."

Liz's eyes water as she talks about Felipe. "I loved what he said when he said, 'That's enough,'" she says. "Because we'd been courting for weeks. And he didn't say, 'That's enough of you not giving me you.' You know? What he said was,

'That's enough of you on your own in this world. Now I'm with you. Come on. Let's go together now. That's enough. You proved it. You can do it on your own. And now you get to have that and me. So let's go.'"

Type type type type type…..

Some times to get into the rhythm of writing, like they did in Finding Forester, you just have to start writing, continue from a previous piece of writing to find your own inspiration.

I have a technical piece to write but my head is not there yet so instead, I will ramble...

I was shocked yesterday when I read a BBC Breaking News tweet that Omar Sharif is in support of the protests. I was ready to tweet back at the BBC that Omar Sharif was dead and that they should check their source who was an imposter. I also thought that maybe bbc was making a joke of some kind even though I had not seen any evidence of this kind of sense of humor. I also thought maybe Omar Sharif was representative of the western view of Egypt and the reference was symbolic. In any case, I was ready to retweet and correct the BBC, yes me correct the BBC on the blatant mistake they had made. Good thing I second guess myself as a matter of course, and went off to Google.
I swear I thought he was dead! I am sure I heard something to that effect a few years ago, that the Dr Zhivago had passed. Anyway, the dude is alive and well and maybe 150 years old.

So today is the million man march in Egypt. I find this perpetuating the station that woman hold in that country. Far from me to make judgments about a country I know little about but the little I saw, had very few women in it. At night time driving through Cairo, all the bars were patroned by men smoking their shisha. In all the hotels and museums and historic sites, few women, many men.

I suppose there could be fewer women in the tourist and retail industry than in other industries. Our tour guide also explained that the women in Egypt are free to do as they wished. If you see them adorned in a black Hijab, even in 40 degree weather, it is because they choose to and it is practical.

Now I wonder if this million man march is meant literally. Will women be present? Are they allowed to be present? Can they participate in the revolution of their own country and of themselves?

Egypt

The perfect picture only exists in our minds...

Even a sphinx has a sphincter ...

Breathtaking from afar...

...and breathtaking from 'anear', Abu Simbel. Would like to erect something like this for my borders.

Mixed feelings about the Obelisk remain...

A sunrise on the river Nile...

Through the eyes of one's companions...

I now know what it means to be Nubian

Nubia means the place of gold. And Nubians are an Egyptians race who have kept their bloodline pure by not marrying outsiders. They also have their own secret language that is not written and anyone that is an outsider is not allowed to be taught it.

Before the trip to Egypt, I had no idea of a Christian religion called Copt. Of course following the bombing of the Coptic Church in Alexandria a few days ago, I now know that such a religion exists and so much of its history and its origins are in Egypt.

Egypt and Egyptians touch a lot of the world’s history. Jesus, Mary and Joseph spent three years in Egypt, I saw a few days ago the place where they hid ( a church of St Sergius and St Bacchus in Cairo) when Herod(?) was killing all the first borns.

These are just miniscule pieces of information that one gathers traveling around Egypt. It is rich and I do not have the mental capacity to absorb (never mind relate) all the stories I’ve been told about this rich place. All I can do is connect the pieces of information to movies and books I’ve read. I try to connect some of Cairo to the African settings of the English Patient. And so on and so on.


I wish I could post some the pictures of my trip so far but the camera doesn’t have the connection. I and a cute couple from Pretoria did a trip to Abu Simbel. (80% of the tour party is from Durban and a little on the elderly side, but this is a story for another time). As an ignorant person of Egyptology, I felt a little that this trip was wasted on me. Abu Simbel is a temple that Ramses II built to show his might. It is one of the must sees next to the Pyramids. The temple’s entrance is flanked by four huge statues of Ramses II himself at various ages. To put it into scale, a hand of the statue is about as tall as an average sized person. A smile is about a meter long. These are huge statues and inside the temple itself are more statues and Egyptian ancient writing that a more enthusiastic amateur Egyptologist would go nuts for. I felt a little like someone who acquires a precious thing but has no idea how to begin to appreciate it.

On a more personal note, very little can be spoilt by a visit to Egypt, the place is awe inspiring, BUT being a woman travelling alone comes close. It is a Muslim country (80% Muslim, 10% Coptic) and women are covered up. I am not Muslim and I am travelling alone. This for some reason gives an impression to Egyptian men can try their luck. Ordering room service was an experience that I can laugh about now but was ready to put my kata-box skills to work a few days ago. And as open as I am to new experiences, invading my personal space and telling me I have a good body will not make me readily take my clothes off and want to get it on, I don’t care how good looking you are. And the men in Cairo are above average good looking. But Ninja please!

I love my country

I am this person. I am the kind of person that would go to the greatest places in the world and still long for the familiar surroundings that I call home, that I call South Africa. The familiar and friendly faces of the people of the south. I will romanticise of what a great country I live in and how unthreatening and welcoming we are to visitors and how other places around the world fail miserably at this. I am that person. I am a melancholic traveler. I am not proud of this and will try to change it.

First day in Egypt, in Cairo and I am amazed at how filthy this place is. I am shocked that the Sheraton would put their name to the Hotel I am staying at. I am horrified at the aggression of the people here and I can not wait to move out of Cairo and into hopefully more serene setting of Egypt.

Do not get me wrong, the Egypt and the Pyramids are awe-inspiring and beautiful and rich with history, probably the richest place on earth in terms of History? But one cannot help but be discouraged by some of the history, like that of the pyramids, these were built for vanity and ego's sake and not the greatness of someone else or to commemorate greatness but to make sure that I as a king am buried in a tomb that is bigger and better than the previous one.

Pictures (and a more thoughtful post hopefully) to follow tomorrow…