Posts Tagged ‘Padre Padrone’

Blackpaint 425 – Dreams, Mary Poppins and Chicken Sex

December 12, 2013

Tate Britain – Five Painters (again)

On second viewing, I saw something I’d missed, or hadn’t fully got, in Simon Ling’s paintings – the dream-like quality.  There’s a particular light, or maybe dullness, in the colours, as if it’s always late afternoon, gloomy, cloudy or actually more than that; sort of drained of light.  Don’t know what the lighting is like in your dreams, but the Ling quality certainly matches mine.

simon ling

I also liked the Storey monolith drawings more this time; not the paintings, but the ones on baking paper.  Definitely something Rachel Whiteread about them.

As for Lucy McKenzie, still can’t understand how she does her trompe l’oeil stuff, but neither can I see haw it relates to Fascism, as suggested in the leaflet, apart from the Lempicka-like figures and the Art Deco interiors… maybe something to do with facades, artificiality, make-believe; Fascisms are surely based on fantasy, after all.

“Stressed” photos by Henderson (forgot his first name), elsewhere in the gallery; one of a boy on bike, wobbly at edges, and one of a man striding across a road, apparently several feet off the ground.  Also, that fantastic photo by Don McCullin of the tramp, which has the quality, somehow, of a sunflower.

Sculptures in niches on stairway: one by Michael Sandle, “Drummer”, a life-size black robot-like figure which I was sure was a Philip King, until I saw the plaque; a William Turnbull, “Idol 2”, like a flatfish with a single large foot, as if fused; and Reg Butler’s brilliant grasshopper/mantis armed with a spear, which is actually called “Woman”, I believe.  Great, memorable image.

reg butler

 

Padre Padrone

I saw this film, directed by the Taviani brothers, many years ago; recently got it on DVD.  What I remembered, apart from the general brutality of the father in the Sardinian shepherd family, was  the boy learning to “hear” in the rural silence; particularly the rustling of the distant trees and the sound of the stream.

What I had forgotten was the scene in which a boy climbed on a box in order to sexually abuse an unfortunate donkey and several of his friends did the same (although not needing boxes) with chickens…  The father, on seeing this disturbing scene from the top of a hill, spurred his donkey on, not to rush down and put a stop to the abuse, but to pay an urgent visit to his wife…

Mrs. Dalloway

I’m finding this book rather less experimental than Jacob’s Room, or perhaps it’s because it is less episodic than that novel, staying with a particular character that little bit longer.  My partner was re-reading it, but stopped in annoyance, saying it reminded her of Mary Poppins (the film I think, not the book).  I was surprised, but I see what she means: the scenes in Regent’s Park, nannies with kids, an aeroplane sky writing, gentlemen with nothing to do sauntering around, observing – you could slot Dick Van Dyke in without great difficulty.  No animal abuse so far.

A Young Doctor’s Notebook (Sky Arts)

This has been going from strength to strength each week; Radcliffe and Hamm are an inspired combination.  Can’t think of any other series like it, off hand.

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Dark Glacier

Blackpaint

12.12.13

Blackpaint 333 – Turkish corpses, frenzied nuns and tagliatelli

March 29, 2012

Once Upon a Time in Anatolia

Director Nuri Bilge Ceylan.  As the police, army, doctor and prosecutor search the Turkish countryside at night  for a murder victim, guided (!) by a suspect who can’t recognise the spot, they chat about yogurt (shades of Pulp Fiction and hamburgers);  winds get up that rustle the poplars (Padre Padrone) while the searchers take piss breaks, or peer into the searchlights, or land blows of frustration on the confused (or dissembling) captive.  Two more tiresome film buff references: the countryside resembles that of Iran in Kiarostami’s The Wind will Carry Us – and the interminable dictation of legalese and medicalese to typists by first, the prosecutor, then, the doctor, recalls the two secret police at the end of Tarr’s Satantango.  Three memorable images – a winding road through cornfields, laid out  like a thick straw mat; apples plopping into a fast- running stream and bounding downstream over the boulders; and a wind-blown Turkish homestead, made from the dry earth, it’s yellow lamps glimmering.

Perfect for DVD, I found it 30 minutes too long – I was waiting for the bit where the image would freeze and fade to music, but several of these images arrived and moved on into another sequence; arrival at the police station, post-mortem…

The Devils

I’d forgotten just how brilliant this film was and how many famous faces it contains; apart from Reed, Redgrave and Dudley Sutton, there’s Max Adrian and Brian Murphy from Man about the House (or was it Robin’s Nest?), as the two crazed physicians in leather masks.  They sort through the disgorged vomit of the crazed Ursuline nuns, seeking proof of Satanic practices – they find children’s organs, semen and – what’s this?  “A carrot”.  Louis XIII, shooting Protestants dressed as birds and released from giant cages to run across the king’s firing line, shoots one, who tumbles into a pond; as he sinks, the king says “Bye Bye… Blackbird”.  And music by Peter Maxwell Davies!

Joan Mitchell, Last Paintings, at Hauser and Wirth

Five huge canvases from her last decade; the familiar brushwork, like shredded paper, or wide strips tumbled together into a pile, or standing in glowing, superimposed stripes like trees (in “Trees”, 90-91), or multicoloured bundles of tagliatelli, in “Sunflowers”.  The burning, tangled colours a little more raw than usual, and some noticeable dry brush drags.  Upstairs, the Tondos, portholes looking out onto the Grande Vallee – I like the one with the glossy white at the top – and from the big ones, “Then, Last Time, No.4”, the tumbled together one, in dark blue and green.

Michael Raedecker

Also at Hauser and Wirth, at the gallery round the corner from the Mitchell (North Gallery).  His pictures are made with thread on large canvases painted in metallic greys and greens.  Wedding cakes, chandeliers, window and row of bungalows.  The bungalows are cut into panels and re-sorted amongst several canvases to create discontinuities. At the upper and lower edges of the canvases, white blobs that are reminiscent of Peter Doig.  The press release describes his work as “subtle and unsettling… enigmatic” – which seems fair enough.

Mary Heilmann

Finally, and also at Hauser and Wirth – all three of these exhibitions are free, by the way – the above; piercingly, blindingly vivid nursery colours on boxy chairs and small, biscuit-like paintings.  Irritating at first, but worth hanging around for 10 minutes until your eyes adjust.  One great picture in blues and greens of waves piling up – she uses an effect that makes the dark blues look like flattened tubes spouting diagonally across the little canvas; reminded me of that great Albert Irvin, “Flodden”,  I was writing about a few weeks ago – but that was huge; this is small.

Blackpaint

29/03/12