The Favorite and Shtisel – two reviews

These reviews may contain spoilers!   

 

The Favorite

Set in the early 1700’s during the reign of Queen Anne, this costume and interior-rich film dissects the absurdities of the English class system, and governance under royalty. The film depicts Anne in constant pain and can no longer see to read, and either these factors or just intellectual dullness fostered by years of having every whim catered to are no barrier to her being the ultimate authority. When she does rule it is at best mere whim or the results of manipulations by conniving courtiers. It is amazing the country survived this, but then again, all of Europe was in the grip of monarchs who were largely if not entirely just as deeply mired in absurdity.

Things are rolling along well enough with Mrs. Churchill, the Duchess of Marlborough, being the Queens adviser, lover and the de facto ruler. Mrs Churchill is at least honest with Anne from time to time, genuinely cares about the future of the kingdom, educated in matters of policy and war, and tough as nails in dealing with Parliament. Then along comes Abigail.

When we meet her Abigail had been thrust out of her aristocratic world by the crazed acts of her father. The debauched aristocracy is something to which Abigail would like to return, given the alternative: being left to life in the mud as illustrated in the opening scene where she fell out of a carriage after being pinched in the bottom by a fellow carriage occupant who spends his times masturbating for all to see. She tells us she fears a life where she would have to service syphilitic soldiers. A cousin to Mrs. Churchill, she manages to become employed as a servant, as unwelcome by that class as she is by the other. Her life as a servant is a cut above walking the streets but still not pleasant, given the floor scrubbing, six to a bed and ice-cold communal baths.

English society gave the aristocratic few all there was to enjoy and the masses the crumbs, leading to the likes of Marx, Dickens and the liberal democracies of later centuries. There is still just a small middle class so the only alternative for Abigail is to find a way, any way at all, back into the aristocracy and all its corruption. Mrs. Churchill sees Abigail as a threat as Abigail finds a way to come to the attention of Ann, becoming an obstacle to her aspirations.

Abigail, no caring about anything but her own survival, employs her considerable intellect in improving her lot. Abigail is not interested in governing, not that she was in any way prepared had she been. She can only evaluate events as a threat to her own well-being, or not. Meanwhile Mrs Churchill moves to cut off Abigail’s threat to her control of the queen and thus the country. Both Abigail and Mrs. Churchill are trapped by a system where it became inevitable that one of them must go.

Seen in the light of the threats and challenges facing the realm, these rivalries, plots and revenges are absurdities impeding rational governance, absurdities reflected throughout the film, where odd musical riffs and slapstick humiliations combine with rabbit worship, chocolate binges, drunkenness, open fucking, and the director’s thorough mocking of the hyper courteous minuets of the period.

Historically some important aspects of the movie do not check out.  For example, there were no rabbits representing her 17 dead children, Anne was not known to be lesbian, and did at least appear capable of governing.

Excellent movie. Garybob says check it out.

Shtisel

Shtisel is an Israeli production that follows an Ultra Orthodox family in Mea Shearim, the most orthodox Jerusalem neighborhood. Shukem Shtisel and his youngest mid-twenties son Akiva live together following his wife’s early death. The story revolves around his commitment to the religion, Akivas’s less enthusiastic focus upon it and the painterly interests that distract Akiva from constant study at Yeshiva.

The series provides constant reminders of the godly devotion that animates this sect. Each morsel of food is accompanied by praise of the deity and each passing of a door jamb involves touching a fabric put there for the purpose. Men’s black hats perch perilously atop their heads, presiding over ringlets descending along their sideburns in what must involve some sort of daily curling ritual.

There are endless manipulations as Shulem tries to get Akiva to give up painting and get married to someone arranged for by a matchmaker. The father objects to and interferes with his son’s true calling, which is just not good enough for a religious Jew. He should teach at the religious school where the father teaches and later serves as principal. The person he should marry is someone who would keep him in line. Of course Akiva wants to marry someone else, but her brothers in prohibit it against her wishes. That relationship is doomed. The men rule.

In the meantime a gallery owner hires Akiva to make paintings to which the gallery owner signs his name. Akiva quits teaching and is kicked out of the house, staying with friends and acquaintances before being invited to return provided he resumes teaching. Then along comes Elisheva, Akiva’s first cousin. Shulem eventually sees that Akiva is genuinely fond of her, and intervenes with her father, Shulem’s brother. The brother eventually assents, pursuant to Elisheva’s wish to marry Akiva, on the condition that Akiva give up painting and take on the brother’s new business venture. Akiva is so in love that he assents. Parents rule in these arrangements, or at least carry a big stick, so compromises and traps of this sort are unavoidable. Akiva craps out of the deal after giving it a college try, and the marriage is called off.

Along with this story is that of Akiva’s sister Giti, whose husband goes to Argentina and sheds the religion, abandoning the family in the process. He was long ill-suited to the religious life but went along to get along. She tells no one to avoid the humiliation, finds work here and there until she takes over a money changing business. The husband returns and she welcomes his him back but with a deep anger continues to punish him for his infidelity to her and the religion. She wants a ‘normal’ ultra Orthodox life, a total fitting in to all the norms, rules and traditions. Anything else is a loss of face.

The stress of the loss of her father and his livelihood does not go over well with their daughter Ruchami, who finds a way out of the house by marrying another 16-year-old boy estranged from his family and living in the Yeshiva, his nose buried in the Torah day and night. Giti aims to destroy the marriage, lying to the boy telling him that Ruchami wants a divorce, and telling Ruchami that the boy wants a divorce. In a rare but welcome moment, Giti realizes the boy is a good kid. But still it’s the parents and the religion that rules, for it is under Jewish law that these 16-year-old couple could marry themselves by a simple vow before several hastily arranged witnesses, and which ordains powerful parental controls.

Shukem starts looking for a wife and eventually finds a prospect in the matchmaker’s widow. She has him fire the long serving school secretary as having a woman so close does not look right for someone as religious as he. This match creates problem after problem so Shukem calls it off

Akiva returns to painting, getting recognition and support from a wealthy art patron, before backing out of the deal just weeks into his year-long award of room, board, studio and salary and opportunities to show his work in order to marry Elisheva. After bailing on the agreement to work for his future father in law, he walks back into the studio and an opening, at which his father makes a public pitch for the school, totally embarrassing his son. Religion for the father trumps art every time, and at least in principle, everything else as well.

Another series worth watching. Garybob says check it out!

More from Roma

During a summer in Rome I spent many hours doing pen and ink drawings of some of the most fabulous and sculptures.  Here are a few.

The Boxer at Rest, pen and ink

This magnificent piece was discovered in 1885 at the Quirinali Palace, one of two unrelated sculptures carefully buried there and discovered within a month of one another.    The wiki tells you more 

Boxer at Rest wiki

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ludovis Gaul

This is a stunning sculpture at Palazzo Altemps.  It is a Roman copy done in the 2nd century of a Greek sculpture dating to  230-20 BCE.  

Gaul wiki

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sarcophagus of the Spouses is an  amazing terra cotta sculpture dates from circa 600 BCE.  It is in Villa Giulia, itself worthy of a visit.  It was found in 450 pieces and reassembled.  It’s a must see!  

Sarcophagus wikiClick edit button to change this text.

And of course there are many fabulous views throughout Rome.

 

Foro Cesare from Vittorio Emanuele

If you are interested in purchasing these drawings or prints of them, please get in touch.  

In Holland: a friendly generous gesture

I took the the first two photos in Friesland, which is in the north and most rural part of Holland.   We saw perhaps 6 of these older wind mills, some of them still at work.

We stopped for coffee. There were four older men playing cards and after we got our coffee, the waitress showed up with these appelgebak mit slagroom (apple pie with whipped cream), one of our favorites.   One of the gents treated us, and as we were waiting for the coffee he even paid that!  I have no idea why, other than perhaps we were the rare visitor to these parts.  They would have known we were speaking English, although none of them seemed to understand anything we said to them directly.  The waitress spoke it quite well however.   

This event has more meaning if you know something about the Dutch.   Some might call them stingy or tight.  For example in our airbnb in Dordrecht they had coffee in the guest room.  Very nice.  But there were two coffee creamers.  Not four, not six, just two.  In another, it states if you use a whole roll of toilet paper you have to pay 2 euros extra.  The generosity we experienced was quite the surprise for us, having spent almost a year in the country over the past 20. 

The little restaurant sits across the field from the restaurant.  Earlier we were in Dordrecht, in the southwest part of the country where we spent the night on in a small outbuilding.  Our friendly hostess showed us around her lovely property, sitting on water’s edge.  Across the way is an island hosting beavers, hawks and owls and more, as well as the usual ducks and coots.

 

Applegebak mit slagroom
Windmill in Friesland

 

Sculpture in Dordrecht

 

 

 

Vernon, castle on the Seine

Vernon is in Normandy on the Seine downstream from Paris.  It’s castle, built in 1204, served to protect Paris.  The mill ground flour, which could then be readily transported on the Seine.  It is a very short distance to Giverny, where Monet established his studio and residence.  There is also a museum of Impressionists.    

Chateau des Tourelles, Vernon, France

 

 

Half Timber In Vernon

The first mention of the town dates to Roman times.  The town was referenced circa 750 by Pepin the Short.  The name might be Latin or Celtic in origin. In French today ‘verne’ is a speckled elder tree.  In English it is a proper name.  (I add this as non-native English speakers read my blogs).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There is a small dock for pleasure crafts, as you can see in the photo.  The mill sits on a bridge destroyed following the D-day invasion.  A new bridge crosses the Seine to town center, a charming village. 

 

Mill in Vernon on the Seine

 

Notre-Dame in Vernon

 

Dating from the 11th century, Notre Dame is a good example of a Gothic church.  The lead glass windows are impressive modern pieces, replaced also as a result of WWII bombing.   The rose window is flamboyant thus of later Gothic origin.  The stained-glass windows are contemporary.  The originals were replaced after World War II bombing raids.  The many half timber buildings are mostly from the 16th century.

Town Hall is a grand 19th century structure with frescoes.  The tall 20 meter Tour des Archives is the remnant of the Chateau-fort.   At the Musée Alphonse-Georges Poulain  you can see two original Monet works, Nymphaeus and Effect of sunset in Pourville.   There are several by his step daughter Blanche.   Only copies of Monet’s paintings are at Giverny.  https://www.francethisway.com/places/vernon.php . Additional commentary see https://www.francethisway.com/places/vernon.php
 
We had lunch in a picturesque restaurant with some good examples of Normandy cuisine.  Andouillette is tripe in a sausage casing.  I stuck with steak pomme frites, however.  I asked for it medium and they got part of it right.  They grilled it a bit more but it turned tough.  The frites are the best I have had anywhere ever!  Peg ordered fish delightfully grilled, and a side of polenta with a bit of cheese.  
 
    

Charmed again: my dinner with Agnes

I find our evenings with friends in Paris especially charming.  Could it be the views? 

 

Tour Eiffel lights up at night, flashes at us, and the top light spins
A lovely wine
Brie, camembert, morbier (the one with the dark line down the middle), chevre, butter



Tonight, yes, with a balcony facing the Tour Eiffel at night when the weather permits an open window to the balcony.  The Tour flashes at night and the searchlight on top spins 360 degrees.

 

Could it be the wine?  Well, there is that.   The French often start with champagne, although in this case it was a white wine.  

Perhaps the cheese?  (The French usually serve butter with the cheese, this was an especially rich butter.)  I am forever shocked when the cheese comes out.  I’ve already had enough to eat, what with the snacks while we wait for the wine to age, the night to darken, the dinner to finish its oven time, the conversation to get past the what’s new stage.















The conversation never lags, in part because of the catch up conversations, the latest news about children and friends, and the news about the news.     Joining us:  the Romanian boyfriend, offering another perspective on things, shall we say, with a story about a disappearing ship.   

We have been to Romania twice, once in 1998 and again in 2004.  In 1998 the country was dirt poor.  There were few goods in the stores, and they had trouble making change for lack of currency.  We had a wonderful dinner in an Intercontinental hotel, with a live band.  It cost a mere $20, an amount then far beyond the means of the locals.  We were the only ones in the place for most of the evening.   It was so intimate that Peg sang with the band.  She has a lovely voice which I rarely get to hear.  By 2004 things had improved some and things are perhaps a bit better now but still some emigrate.  

We’ve met quite a few Romanians in our travels in Europe.  They look for better opportunities.  Most seem to struggle in the west though.  The next day we met another, the husband of a consultant, one of the few we have met who makes a good living in financial tech.  We know two restaurateurs in Valencia, both succeeding but working endless hours.   The consultant was born in Venezuela, whose disintegration goes far beyond even what happened to Eastern Europe during the transition to a market economy. 

 

Another evening was just with Americans, with equally charming views.

 

View from Mark’s Window

 

Mark is an exceptional cook with a neat apartment on’Ile Saint-Louis.  During the summer on the right bank there is music every night, lovely if you are me and there for an evening, but for those residents who can not tune it out it’s another matter.  Likewise with the lights from the tourist boats, and for metro riders who hear Have Naguila and Those Were the Days over and over again. 

 

I might tire of a tian if I had one every night, but never having the experience, it was highly rewarding.  I shall quote Mark on the serious matter of French cooking:  “The tian is the name of the round baking dish. Anything that’s made in it, then, is a tian. This one was a tian méridionale, basically the same veggies as a ratatouille… No browning; the veggies cooked slowly with olive oil and their own sugars until they caramelized.”  

 

A tian

 

The wines were superb.  Mark’s friend is a delight, someone whom we’d not met.   Here as at chez Agnes the conversations just flows.  Other Americans friends were there, whom we’ve known for going on 20 years.  They have spent far more than that in Paris for about 6 months at a time.  She in particular likes warm winters so they return to Florida.  She is a trained and very fine chef, about which I could go on and on.   

Zambia, a short illustrated book about our visit to a small village

Travis' Hut in Zambia (sold)

We flew with friends to Dar Es Salaam, the capitol of Tanzania, to go by train to Zambia.  The train trip was an adventure of its own.   Our destination was a tiny village where our nephew Travis worked as a Peace Corps volunteer, helping the locals build a damn for their fish farm.  

https://issuu.com/garyartista/docs/zambia_book_edited