Despite all evidence to the contrary...
Jacques Brel IS alive, and well, and living happily in Paris.
There's a revival of the show going on now in Burbank, and my mom and I went to see it last Friday. It was really good! I'd heard Jacques Brel a lot when I was much younger, and thought I wouldn't remember anything, but songs kept coming up that I'd be like "WAIT! I remember that song!"
And the songs are so fun, too. It turns out that one song I'd heard that I thought was "Ce soir, je t'aime, Madeleine," is actually "Ce soir, j'attends Madeleine" -- "I'm waiting for Madeleine!" And oh, the cast was great. Two men and two women - one of the men looked like Jacques Brel, the other like Joe Biden; one woman had a voice that was less than stellar, but a personality and flair she put into every line, and the other had a beautiful amazing voice that she used splendidly. My only feeling is that the Jacques Brel lookalike didn't get as much to sing as he should have. He had a good voice! At least as good as the Joe Biden lookalike!
You know, it's a very melancholy show - starting with either "Marathon" or "Le Diable (Ca Va)" (which I'd translate as "The Devil, Just Fine!") and talking about people at the end of their lives, about lives wasted or spoiled, about love that turns out to have been about very little after all - just ending with "If We Only Have Love," which is SUCH a wonderful and beautiful song.
It's so weird, being a writer. Some of the songs I felt like I was listening to them through the ears of my characters, as well as of my own. "Amsterdam," which I think is a brutal parade of Dutch stereotypes, becomes just as easily a rant from Mark, listing out Muggle stereotypes (I tell you, Dutch people are following me.)
Th' next day was LACMA day - my dad and I saw the exhibits on Renoir in the 20th century. Twice I entered a room and went, "I've seen that before. AH yes, I saw those paintings at the National Gallery of London!" or "Ah yes, I saw a rough clay rendition of that at the Musee du Montmartre."
Then it was off to the American Stories exhibit, quite a change of pace, and my dad and I had great fun coming up with stories for every painting - or just appreciating some in silence for their exquisite beauty and life.
Free Comic Book Day at the Golden Apple was next - unfortunately we'd gotten there so late in the day that most of the selection was gone. I read over the selection we did get,a nd it... wasn't that great. BUT, there were also comics of The Incredibles (which... was not as good as the movie, alas) and Donald Duck (nowhere near as good as Don Rosa) and... the official translation of The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask (SQUEE!) I almost got the last item, but... decided against it.
Also, saw the film Fantastic Mr. Fox. Don't know what to think of it. Yes, it was smart. Yes, it looked great. But... I found it strangely passionless. Too sly and clever. And please, please no close-ups with the fox faces! Fuzz and close up do not go together, and it only emphasizes how the characters live in the Uncanny Valley. But, not bad. Maybe if my dad and brother hadn't built it up as this hysterical work of genius I'd have liked it more. As it was, I liked Ponyo better.
Now I'm back at school. Hoping to catch a Firefly this evening. And do the In Court Report. And finish up another installment of my long-neglected England Pilgrimage series. And try to not freak out over ANOTHER crisis of French. I hate this crisis of French. I thought I was not so emotionally involved in this. And my Dad - my dad does NOT NOT NOT NOT NOT NOT NOT help when he suggests I study somewhere other than France. I don't want to hear that. My Dad is not... great at listening. Sometimes he is, if you TELL him to listen, but, like Ally said (good, good Ally), he's a solver. He always offers his own solutions, often before I've finished explaining the problem (often times adding how I solved it myself.) It makes me want to go to France just to SPITE him. Why can't I just make up my freaking mind? Is this all just because I hate French Literature? Will not taking French Lit next semester solve the problem?
OH ! but on the plus side I brought two books from home to read - or, reread. Mrs. Dalloway, because I haven't read it in years and I'll understand it SO much better now, and Dragonwyck, by Anya Seton, which I picked up on a whim and decided when I was on page 11 that I'd be bringing it back. It's like Jane Eyre Jr... only set in America, among Dutch-Americans (what did I tell you? They're following me) and with an extremely different dynamic between... okay, it's not Jane Eyre Jr. , but it's certainly Gothic and great. And I'll also reread Emily of New Moon, too, now that I finally finished Mistress Pat.
At some point I'll read something new, but for now, extensive rereading will do me good. In fact, I'll go and do that right now.
I am sorry I haven't posted here more often! Thanks for reading!
There's a revival of the show going on now in Burbank, and my mom and I went to see it last Friday. It was really good! I'd heard Jacques Brel a lot when I was much younger, and thought I wouldn't remember anything, but songs kept coming up that I'd be like "WAIT! I remember that song!"
And the songs are so fun, too. It turns out that one song I'd heard that I thought was "Ce soir, je t'aime, Madeleine," is actually "Ce soir, j'attends Madeleine" -- "I'm waiting for Madeleine!" And oh, the cast was great. Two men and two women - one of the men looked like Jacques Brel, the other like Joe Biden; one woman had a voice that was less than stellar, but a personality and flair she put into every line, and the other had a beautiful amazing voice that she used splendidly. My only feeling is that the Jacques Brel lookalike didn't get as much to sing as he should have. He had a good voice! At least as good as the Joe Biden lookalike!
You know, it's a very melancholy show - starting with either "Marathon" or "Le Diable (Ca Va)" (which I'd translate as "The Devil, Just Fine!") and talking about people at the end of their lives, about lives wasted or spoiled, about love that turns out to have been about very little after all - just ending with "If We Only Have Love," which is SUCH a wonderful and beautiful song.
It's so weird, being a writer. Some of the songs I felt like I was listening to them through the ears of my characters, as well as of my own. "Amsterdam," which I think is a brutal parade of Dutch stereotypes, becomes just as easily a rant from Mark, listing out Muggle stereotypes (I tell you, Dutch people are following me.)
Th' next day was LACMA day - my dad and I saw the exhibits on Renoir in the 20th century. Twice I entered a room and went, "I've seen that before. AH yes, I saw those paintings at the National Gallery of London!" or "Ah yes, I saw a rough clay rendition of that at the Musee du Montmartre."
Then it was off to the American Stories exhibit, quite a change of pace, and my dad and I had great fun coming up with stories for every painting - or just appreciating some in silence for their exquisite beauty and life.
Free Comic Book Day at the Golden Apple was next - unfortunately we'd gotten there so late in the day that most of the selection was gone. I read over the selection we did get,a nd it... wasn't that great. BUT, there were also comics of The Incredibles (which... was not as good as the movie, alas) and Donald Duck (nowhere near as good as Don Rosa) and... the official translation of The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask (SQUEE!) I almost got the last item, but... decided against it.
Also, saw the film Fantastic Mr. Fox. Don't know what to think of it. Yes, it was smart. Yes, it looked great. But... I found it strangely passionless. Too sly and clever. And please, please no close-ups with the fox faces! Fuzz and close up do not go together, and it only emphasizes how the characters live in the Uncanny Valley. But, not bad. Maybe if my dad and brother hadn't built it up as this hysterical work of genius I'd have liked it more. As it was, I liked Ponyo better.
Now I'm back at school. Hoping to catch a Firefly this evening. And do the In Court Report. And finish up another installment of my long-neglected England Pilgrimage series. And try to not freak out over ANOTHER crisis of French. I hate this crisis of French. I thought I was not so emotionally involved in this. And my Dad - my dad does NOT NOT NOT NOT NOT NOT NOT help when he suggests I study somewhere other than France. I don't want to hear that. My Dad is not... great at listening. Sometimes he is, if you TELL him to listen, but, like Ally said (good, good Ally), he's a solver. He always offers his own solutions, often before I've finished explaining the problem (often times adding how I solved it myself.) It makes me want to go to France just to SPITE him. Why can't I just make up my freaking mind? Is this all just because I hate French Literature? Will not taking French Lit next semester solve the problem?
OH ! but on the plus side I brought two books from home to read - or, reread. Mrs. Dalloway, because I haven't read it in years and I'll understand it SO much better now, and Dragonwyck, by Anya Seton, which I picked up on a whim and decided when I was on page 11 that I'd be bringing it back. It's like Jane Eyre Jr... only set in America, among Dutch-Americans (what did I tell you? They're following me) and with an extremely different dynamic between... okay, it's not Jane Eyre Jr. , but it's certainly Gothic and great. And I'll also reread Emily of New Moon, too, now that I finally finished Mistress Pat.
At some point I'll read something new, but for now, extensive rereading will do me good. In fact, I'll go and do that right now.
I am sorry I haven't posted here more often! Thanks for reading!