The Mind is a Melody

The baggage of the brain does halt my beat,

Newborns approach to suck on her teats,

The danger ahead, the hunter of men,

I must tame the birds that circle my head.

I stare at the sun, no shade from the storm,

Words are ink blotches and waves that crash down,

Made limp by the body that does surround,

My right arm goes numb, no help to be found.

My heart is covered by fatty thoughts,

No health plan to cure what problems await,

I’m last in the queue but I’ll die with you,

Hope is a fire that does not need fuel.

Her art I love to behold,

I may even be her muse,

Stay in the gallery I’m told,

She prefers to work without you.

We sculpt our forms in bed,

She stops to consider its worth,

She tries to name a price,

No sale I scream, its love.

Signed with her name, a painting,

The colours once vivid and sharp,

Stored in the shadows…

No attention.

My canvas has withered to dust.

When Dutch artist Bart Jansen’s cat, Orville, died in a car crash he didn’t bury the beloved corpse in a shoebox in the back garden, or have it cremated and the ash filled urn proudly displayed in his home. No, Bart decided to turn Orville into a flying helicopter. LOVE the pictures. Here’s the link http://bit.ly/KpeGUM

The Intouchables, directed and written by Olivier Nakache and Éric Toledano.

The film, based on a true story (detailed in the documentary À la vie, à la mort), is set in Paris and follows Phillipe, a wealthy tetraplegic and Driss, a young thief of Senegalese descent who is surprisingly hired by Phillipe as his live in carer after Driss initially interviewed only as a means of receiving welfare. 

Phillipe (Francois Cluzet) lives in splendour with his daughter and house workers and loves classical music, art and epistolary relationships with women, especially one called Eleanor. Driss (Omar Sy), initially, is motivated by little but women and hanging with friends in the French projects. Obviously, they are both very different but throughout the film Phillipe and Driss become closer and closer. Their worlds intertwine. Driss helps Phillipe, and vice-versa. Instead of writing letters, Driss makes Phillipe call Eleanor, giving Philippe romantic hope. Thanks to Driss’ precocious nature, Phillipe finally has to confront and show authority over his bratty daughter, and Driss generally brings a sense of fun and occassion (Driving in a sports car, Parisian walks, weed, smoking) to Phillipe’s arguably drab life. Phillipe inspires Driss to mature, as well as taking him paragliding (the extreme sport that paralyzed Philippe) and inspiring him to start painting.

Towards the end Phillipe grows inpatient when waiting for a date with Eleanor and leaves the restaurant, just missing her, whilst Driss is forced to move back to the projects after his step brother finds himself in trouble with the local gangs. Phillipe and Driss have to part, “You weren’t going to drive a wheelchair your entire life”.

Phillipe is obviously unhappy with his new conservative carers and Driss returns and, much to Phillipe’s surprise and happiness, sets up a date for Phillipe with Eleanor.

So, why should you watch this film? Here’s some interesting facts;

• It was voted the cultural event of the year by 52% France’s general public.
• Its Rotten Tomatoes average score? 82%!
• It’s the highest grossing movie in a language other than English, with $343,746,221  worldwide (Box Office Mojo) thus far.

Impressed? You should! The film, although not particularly original or challenging, is the epitome of a feel good drama and is superbly crafted; every beat, whether dramatic or comedic, and like your favourite song, is felt effortlessly, much like the beats of Phillipe’s classical music, or Driss’s ‘Earth, Wind and Fire’ affect them. Though it won’t win France another best film Oscar next year, it will warm anyone who watches it. Driss and Phillipe’s friendship is both affecting and more humorous than any recent American comedy, such as American Reunion. For example, Phillipe revealing how he can still get pleasure from women by the massaging of his erogenous ears, “So, if you have red ears it means’s you’re turned on?” asks Driss, “That’s it,” replies Phillipe, “Sometimes I even wake up with hard lobes!”

Importantly, Phillipe and Driss are superbly acted by Cluzet and Sy, and Sy even won the César (The French Oscar) award for best actor over The Artist’s Jean Dujardin, who won the Oscar. Their charismatic performances also distance the film from the arguably unrealised racial/social issues surrounding Driss and Phillipe, which is surprising considering the real life Driss was changed from North African to sub-Saharan African for the film, insinuating a contemporary view on France’s social issues that is never really characterized. Overall though, The Intouchables is an excellent film that’s success is understandable and I encourage everyone to give it a go.

Final Rating: 4/5

This is new to me and I felt like I’d digressed a little when attempting to think of something to write. You see, I used to be shy. I used to be VERY shy. I’d end up sitting in the corner silently like a coma patient wheeled into a party on his bed. I’d like to say that voice in my head was screaming to be heard and banging on the inside of my skull like it was a prison cell, but it didn’t. No, I actually censored myself and stamped my jokes and ideas with a big red X. I was embarrassed to talk, afraid I’d be laughed at and degraded. I didn’t have the confidence. I was always told to lighten up and have a beer (and rightly so…), but I didn’t like to drink. I didn’t want to lose control of my inhibitions. I didn’t want to risk tainting the little popularity I had built with friends by talking drunken shit and making jokes that weren’t contextual with our friendship, or just plain bad. It’s odd I’d consider it shit when it was usually the truth, just with an indulgent slur. I ended up laughing at myself for even considering saying certain things (usually jokes), as if I was a comedian bombing on stage; a comedian friends would laugh at with embarrassment. So I remained silent and shy because breaking shyness, and those shackles, gives you a massive, cranium choking hangover. Because indulging yourself, to a shy person, can be too much, even if you had a good time. Because you’ve built yourself up as someone liked or loved on the outside, it means a sense of pride is created about your creation. It’s a religion you adhere to and your inhibitions are crimes abhorred in your commandments. You don’t want to risk being a bad person and going to internalised hell. So there is an odd regret in growing away from shyness, because even if it goes well, you could very well wake up in the morning going “what the fuck was I talking about last night?!” That’s how I felt sometimes. You can feel energized but regretful, as you know it was a drug you’ll want to take again; you know that loosening your shackles makes you a prisoner on the run and paranoia will hit you. It’s a drug that will change you and your friends will either have to adapt to and love, or grow to hate, and then you’ll be left to find friends who suit your actual needs. This has been happening to me for years. I’ve found as I’ve developed my friends haven‘t (in the same manner) and I’ve had to endure those painful hangovers out of necessity. Eventually though, I felt better and could drink again with more confidence. A word of warning though - don’t try to perform the hair of the dog and remain drunk. The hangover’s inescapable when wanting to understand the pain of change. Staying drunk will leave you weary and eventually desiring soberness more. You have to drink enough to get a hangover so your body can adapt and learn to tolerate until you don’t get hangovers at all.

Eventually I started to perform on stage and that shyness unravelled naturally. When I analyse this time I find it a little odd. Now, as a shy guy, I didn’t think one of my first plays was going to be something as overt as being Danny Zucko in ‘Grease: The Musical’, but it was. There I was, doing the hand jive and singing about Sandy, wearing a shit leather jacket and with hair that attempted to be like a greaser’s, but because of its ridiculous thickness and the cows flick at the front, couldn’t even be held by hair gel, wax and hair spray. My hair jutted out like a broken water feature spraying water everywhere. If that didn’t help me grow into myself, then nothing would. I started to act more and learn about method acting and really get into the process of the art after that. Method acting is, simply put, acting that requires you to utilise your own experiences and emotional trauma etc. to fuel the fire a performance requires. Oddly, because when I had to cry on stage I’d think of what had made me sad in my life, such as my shyness or failed experiments to grow in confidence, I was able to perform as what seemed to be me. I was able to utilise what I’d repressed in the open. Yes, I found that to be more like myself I had to act as someone else. Bit of an oxymoron really. This is oddly though, how I feel I truly overcame my shyness. I put myself on stage and performed, utilising the negative experiences of my life to fuel what I knew I could be. So here’s some advice, if you want to be someone else you have to accept who you are first. Only then can you play the character you want.

Anyway, this is what came out when I started this blog and became shy and wondered what to talk about first. I think it’s because I’ve moved away from acting and started learning about creative writing. I want to write novels etc. now. I think I thought about shyness because to write about the world and characters is to admit or write things you haven’t revealed or even thought about yet. Basically, I feel a little shy again. I’ll overcome my shyness again though, I guarantee it…