MANILA '83

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Subject: EXCERPT FROM MY FILM FESTIVALS  BOOK -- 

MANILA '83 -- -- WAS MEMORABLE!
Posted: Sat, 25 Aug 2012

Subject: EXCERPT FROM MY FILM FESTIVALS BOOK -- MANILA '83

[previous chapter]

 ... We did finally get to Tokyo where I breathed a heavy sigh of relief and settled down to mull over my extended European adventures --Over Siberia to Paris, ten days in Cannes, two weeks in steaming mid-summer Rome sleeping in a sleeping bag out on the roof of an old house where an American journalist I met was willing to put me up for nothing if I didn't mind the primitive accommodations, a mad thunder storm in Venice that knocked out all the electrical power of the city, several weeks in Vienna, and a near crack-up in Manila. I was ready to stick around Tokyo for a while and count my blessings …

MANILA '83 – VANITY OF VANITIES - --

For the next two years I was totally immersed in the study of Japanese film and in publishing articles on both Japanese and Korean film while bouncing back and forth frequently between these two countries. I was also picking up nice sums of spot cash in Seoul, writing publicity brochures for the new Korean films in English and French, but I didn't get to another film festival until January 1983.  This, however, only the fourth festival of my fledgling festival career at the time, turned out to be one of the most memorable ones I have ever been to in my life! -- the Manila Film Festival of 1983.  I managed to wrangle an invitation to Manila as the representative of a weekly magazine called 'Tokyo Journal' for whom I was then writing film reviews on a regular basis. This festival was the dream baby of the First Lady of the Philippines, Imelda Marcos, the flashy wife of Dictator Ferdinand Marcos.  She had unlimited funds at her disposal, and being a former Philippine movie star and beauty queen herself -- not to mention a supreme megalomaniac and arguably the vainest woman on the planet -- she was clearly interested in promoting her own image by surrounding herself with the elite of the international film community and of entertaining them personally in her own inimitable style. To make a long story short this would turn out to be something like a privileged visit to a week long party at the  Palace of the Queen of Sheba, with Sheba herself running the show.    
The very first day Imelda held a fancy afternoon cocktail reception and press conference for all visiting guests at the Malacanang Palace, which is the Philippine equivalent of the American White House -- only more elegant.  One of the nice things here was that the light white cotton or silk vest coat known as the  'Barong Pilipino', which is the traditional man's garment in the islands, and comes in all kinds of prices depending on the material and finesse of confection, is also recognized universally as formal wear for all occasions.  My first move in Manila was to get one of these for around ten bucks, at the recommendation of a friendly cab-driver, so I wouldn't have to worry about not being properly dressed for social events – the very first one of which was –->bam<-- a visit to the presidential palace sponsored by the First Lady herself!  

Manila with its palm-lined boulevards and overlay of Spanish architecture is really a unique city in Asia and I was knocked out there from day one just looking around and taking in the scene.  The mingling of Spanish, Malaysian, Chinese and other bloodlines has produced some of the most fantastic looking women I have ever seen, and the outgoing friendliness of the woman towards foreigners … but that's another subject beyond the scope of this book.  Suffice it to say that a Filipina beauty by the name of Tetchie Agbayani had been featured as a nude centerfold the preceding year in the German edition of PLAYBOY, and because of this international distinction had become a kind of national treasure proudly referred to by one and all as 'The Body Beautiful'.  Unashamed sex is in the air everywhere in Manila and is kind of taken for granted by the locals, but for the uninitiated Western visitor just walking down the street – especially a street like M.S. De Pillar in the heart of 'The Tourist Belt' (i.e., the Sex Belt)– can be an erotic experience all by itself.  Porno films, of which there are countless numbers, are referred to by a much nicer word, 'bold films'.  How can you not love a country that calls pornography 'bold'? 

But enough of boldness.  The showcase film of the festival was the Asian premiere of Richard Attenborough's hagiographic masterpiece, 'Gandhi', (Oscar sweeper that year) with both Attenborough and his main actor, Ben Kingsley, in high profile attendance. Other celebrities who turned up during the week included Germans Werner Herzog and Klaus Kinski, American actor Robert Duvall (just passing through), French actress Dominique Sanda, old time Hollywood stars Alexis Smith and Virginia Mayo, and Hollywood pretty boy suntan Adonis George Hamilton, who seemed to have a thing going with the First Lady, dancing with her all the time at the parties and always seated at her table ... 
Incidentally, one never saw President Marcos until the closing gala on the last night when he took the stage to make a ponderously boring speech, and it was said that he never appears in public together with the First Lady so that, just in case there might be an assassination attempt, at least one of them will survive.  The whole atmosphere at this festival, attended by many bigwigs of international film business as well as the stars, was kind of surrealistic if you can imagine surrealism with palm trees, balmy breezes, coconuts, and beautiful women --- and what was unusual for a festival of this magnitude, was that it was very easy to mix informally with just about any of the celebrities there in the hotel lobbies, by poolside, or at special events and screenings. 

The main venue for the festival screenings and press conferences was a spanking new complex of concrete buildings of various types which had been constructed just offshore in Manila Bay.  This was called the New Manila Expo Center and one of the showpieces was an extravagant new hotel with a giant waterfall in the middle of the lobby that looked like a transplant from Las Vegas.  It was rumored that, as the project was being rushed to completion so it could be ready in time for Imelda's film festival, a number of workers had gotten killed in accidents due to lax safety measures, and that to save time their cadavers had just been mixed in with the cement.  I know this sounds pretty bizarre but many locals in Manila were ready to swear by it.  Of course when a lady who prides herself on her two hundred pairs of shoes and has a mad gleam in her eyes all the time is in charge, you never can tell. 

The one big party for all guests – five hundred at least, maybe twice that – which  stands out most in my mind from that magical week was an outdoor evening on the grounds of an old Spanish fortress, catered with unbelievable mountains of food loading down tables all over the place, and exotic tropical drinks in coconut shells served by beautiful young Filipinas clad in clinging sarongs circulating through the crowd all the time.   The entertainment was a spectacular show on a gigantic stage presenting the entire history of the Philippines in dance and song – dance numbers worthy of a Busby Berkeley musical, and the overall staging, costumery, lighting and everything else, the equivalent of the biggest and best show you might ever get to see in Las Vegas. Just mind blowing.  There was also a major fireworks display after that, long lasting, and dancing far into the night to a variety of excellent Philippine bands. Among  familiar faces in the crowd, familiar to me anyhow as an old Hollywood movies buff, I recognized special festival guests Alexis Smith and Virginia Mayo who were standing together having a drink, went over, paid my respects and clinked glasses with them.  They both seemed pleased to be recognized without needing somebody to explain who they were. One final image I have is of Robert Duvall cutting a very fancy rug out on the dance-floor with his dance partner when the Spanish Paso Dobles were being played.  Mr. Duvall is apparently a past master of this noble ballroom dance form

Outrageous German actor Klaus Kinski had grown his blonde hair about a foot long and it hung down from his head to his shoulders or swung around like a mop as he flitted around frenetically.  One day I ran into Kinski at the poolside of the Manila Hotel, the hotel in which General Mac Arthur had for years maintained a permanent suite -- and thought it might be fun to have a chat with him.  I greeted him in German – 'Guten Tag Klaus' – which stopped him in his tracks for a second, but when he found out I was an American journalist he dropped into fluent rasping four-letter English, telling me exactly what he thought of f-----g journalists in no uncertain terms, and didn't give a shit whether I liked 'Fitzcarraldo'' (the film that he and director Werner Herzog were there to promote), or not.  Our chat, such as it was, probably didn't last more than ten minutes but, during this brief interlude he must have gone up the dresses or grabbed the hind quarters or breasts of at least three passing Filipina waitresses – with a mad whoop of glee each time.  I concluded that Mr. Kinski was insane and not worth any more of my time.  Undoubtedly the feeling was mutual since I had nothing for him to grab.   

Actress Alexis Smith at sixty, was still the kind of woman to turn a man's head when she entered a room and I had the pleasure of a long friendly chat with her one afternoon when she was sitting around waiting to be interviewed for Australian television.  The corpulent  Australian interviewer was one of these walking encyclopedias of American film lore who could tell the actress all kinds of things she had herself forgotten about her own career – like who her co-stars or minor actors or lighting directors were on certain obscure films, and things like that, and she was quite impressed with his erudition. Alexis while never a superstar like contemporaries of hers such as Bette Davis or Lana Turner was, nevertheless, an elegant leading lady of some note playing opposite such leading men as Errol Flynn, Clark Gable and Cary Grant and under some of the top directors such as Michael Curtiz, Mervin Leroy and Joseph Losey.

VIRGINIA MAYO in her Hollywood hey-day had been a super-foxy multi-curvaceous mouth-watering blond bombshell in many forties movies and was Cagney’s sassy gun moll in "White Heat” as late as 1951, but thirty years later Virginia had aged  -- not, would I say badly, but the sexiness had faded away completely to where she just looked like anybody’s sweet pretty old granny living next door. She was a very nice person, unassuming and easy to talk with, and didn’t mind reminiscing a bit, but you just didn’t get the feeling you were in the presence of a one-time Hollywood star and sex-symbol.  All that was clearly long behind her and she seemed rather surprised that she was still well-enough remembered to get asked to a big festival like this with contemporary celebrities hopping around all over the place. 

With Alexis Smith it was altogether different. Alexis dressed with elegant flair – several changes a day - smoked her cigarettes from a slender silver cigarette holder, looked sharp and carried herself like a star every minute.  She was in fact still going strong in a top television series and to some extent in the movies.  Her last one was, in fact, Scorcese’s "Age of Innocence” released in 1993, the year she passed away. In Manila 1983 there was not another woman around who radiated the star aura she did.  Yet she was not at all unapproachable chatting affably with whomever might come along, but the names that came up in her conversation, Flynn, Bogart, Cary Grant, Zachary Scott, Joan Crawford, Eleanor Parker, Michael Curtiz – sounded like a Who’s Who of the golden age of Hollywood.  Not that she was into "dropping names”, she was just talking about the people she worked with and hung out with in her everyday life.  

One day just sitting around the hotel lobby having a cup of coffee in the morning with Alexis and some other people waiting for a shuttle to the festival grounds, I was still intrigued by the fact that she had worked in a number of pictures with one of my favorite directors, the Hungarian Michael Curtiz, so I asked her what it had been like to work with this fabulous legendary director -- „Oh –Mike Cur-teeez – she said with a broad smile, a deep chuckle and a flamboyant wave of her cigarette holder –  Then, leaning forward as if to confide a big secret she says, „Mr. Curtiz had such a thick Hungarian accent that most of us on the set didn’t even know what the hell he was talking about most of the time!  -- He would yell out these instructions and we would look at each other and say  "What did he say? – Did you understand him?” ... She then went on to regale us with a couple of choice Michael Cutiz anecdotes which had us all in stitches to start the festival day. Quite a lady, Alexis Smith – up in the clouds and down to earth all at the same time – so classy and very good-looking for a „woman of a certain age”.

The final gala in the big festival hall arrives. Prizes are awarded and President Marcos appears to makes a long dull dictator type speech. Sir Richard Attenborough, distinguished director of Gandhi, makes a short moving humanitarian type speech. When they play The Star Spangled Banner, tears come to my eyes –- Don’t ask me why, but I suddenly feel patriotic out here in this country of countless Islands, where a stone’s throw away from the very hall where all this is taking place, the Bataan Death March took place in 1942, wherein many young American soldiers died, and from where General MacArthur escaped in a PT boat saying „I shall return”  -- and did return two years later to liberate the islands from the Japs.  And now it’s all being run by this piggish dictator with a Spanish name and his megalo-maniacal First Lady as the spirit of the great Indian humanitarian, Mohandis Mahatma Gandhi, hovers over the hall.

The lights go down and "Gandhi" is shown. Ben Kingsley is uncanny in the title role but I can’t get over the fact that Candice Bergen looks so out of place in the picture.  Then comes the big closing party. At the sumptuous sit-down dinner I find myself sitting at a table next to the famous Russian director Grigori Chukrai of „Ballad of a Soldier” and chat with him in my rusty Russian.  The Serbian guys in baggy suits from the Pula festival turn out to be the best dancers in the room. At one of the drink tables I meet this blustering bulky old Englishman in a white dinner jacket who tells me his name is Lew Grade –Sir Lew Grade.  I say, "Nice to meet you, Sir -- What do you do for a living?” – to which he says, with a huge sniff, "If you don’t know who Lew Grade is, young man, you have no right being at this festival!” – To which I reply affably, downing my martini at a gulp, „No shit? – Well I’m the American journalist Herman Pevner, and if you don’t know who Herman Pevner is YOU have no right being here”.  Sir Lew sees nothing funny in this and stomps off in a huff reciting the alphabet. Somebody who has overheard our little exchange at the cocktail table pulls me aside and tells me, "Guess what -- you just insulted the biggest film producer in England and one of the biggest big-shots in the whole film business in the whole world. "Well, he insulted me first” -- is all I can think of saying in reply, as I start on my second martini and head for the dance floor. Out on the dance floor all-American playboy George Hamilton and Philippine First Lady Imelda Marcos in a blood red traditional Philippine gown with high shoulder fins, and some kind of extravagant Spanish headdress, are the center of attention.  The First Lady is no slouch as a dancer and she and Hamilton are still at it as the crowd starts to thin out around three in the morning ... But there are still crowds out on the festival grounds milling about by a theater showing an all night marathon of bold films.

All in all Manila ’83 was just about the most spectacular and luxurious film festival I have ever attended, but that year was also the Swan Song for this particular tropical extravaganza because the next year there was a bloodless revolution in the Philippines, the Marcos’ were deposed and had to flee for their lives to Hawaii (with half of the national treasury) and Cori Aquino became the new president, with more important matters on her hands than self-aggrandizing film festivals. 

When I got back to Tokyo in February I wrote up my Manila article focusing on the high points of the festival without making any snide remarks about the vanity of the First Lady and refraining from any discussion on the politics of the Philippines (if one wants to get invited back one doesn’t bite the hand that feeds) and submitted it to Tokyo journal, a weekly mostly read by the expatriate community.  I was surprised when a letter from a reader sharply criticized my article for ”praising a dictatorship”  and even implied that I was a Fascist for writing such nice things about this Imelda Marcos sponsored event. I made a brief reply to the effect that it was not the duty of film critics to write about politics and I still hold to that.  What was I supposed to say? – that Robert Duvall, Richard Attenborough, Ben Kingsley et al, were all a bunch of dirty Fascists for accepting the lavish hospitality of Madame Marcos?

CANNES, ’83

In any case, the big news in the Japanese film world in early 1983 was the new Nagisa Oshima film, "Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence”, --

2012 Karlovy Vary awards and comments

KVIFF 47, AWARDS AND COMMENTS, A TALE OF FOUR WOMAN

by Alex Deleon

 

   SUSAN SARANDON AT KARLOVY VARY

The 47th Karlovy Vary Film Festival closed shop on Saturday July 7 with the customary gala awards ceremony and a screening of Woody Allen's "To Rome With Love" in the vast 1,500 seat Grand Hall (Velky Zal) of the Thermal Hotel. This was followed by the usual swanky closing reception at the stately Hapsburg era Hotel Pupp (Pronounced "poop") at the other end of the central promenade of healing waters, capping off one of the best KV festivals in recent memory. 

The twelve entry competition section was not particuarly memorable but this has never been the strong suite of this festival. The strong sections, as usual, were Horizons with thirty titles  and the East-of-West selection backed up by three exceptional hommage retrospectives; Antonioni, Jean-Pierre Melville, and  the Turkish auteur Reha Erdem.  

Melville, whose real name was Gumbach, took his artistic nom-de-plume from the American author of Moby Dick, was greatly influenced by American movies, and specialized in fast paced crime thrillers such as Le Cercle Roge and Le Samourai -- Film Noir in color!  He was regarded as a kind of mentor by the young directors of the French Nouvel Vague such as Godard and Truffaut. A marvelous recent bio-documentary entitled "Sous le nom de Melville"(Olivier Bohler, 2008) contained testimonials by other prominent directors who cited Meville as an important influence on their work --among them Bertrand Tavernier, Volker Schloendorff, and even the Japanese master Masaki Kobayashi. Another emminent French director, Claude Miler who passed away this year, was remembered with a screening of his 1975 masterpiece "La Meilleure Facon de Marcher", another seminal French film starring Patric Dewaere, an iconic enfant terrible of the time who died early of a drug overdose.

FOUR WOMEN STOOD OUT

In a way this was a festival dominated by female figures.

Crystal Globe awards for lifetime contributions to world cinema were dispensed to British actress Helen Mirren. 66, (Oscar for "The Queen" in 2007) at the beginning of the fest and at the closing American actress Susan Sarandon, 65  (Oscar '95 for "Dead Man Walking")  --Sarandon is an iconic character actress with the looks of a leading lady. Susan also appeared in the cult musical The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975) which just closed the longest run in film history in Boston this very week.

Another high profile female guest of the fest was leading Iranian actress Leila Hatami, whose film "A Separation" was a world wide hit and earned the Oscar for best foreign film in Hollywood earlier this year. Sarandon, breezing in from New York on the last three days of the festival looked amazingly youthful with her tousled red hair and unlined visage. Hard to believe that she made her film debut 42 years ago with "Joe" back in 1970. 

All three actresses presented new films here, Mirren starring in Hungarian director Istvan Szabo's "The Door",(Out of competition).Sarandon introduced the American indie "Jeff who still live with his mother", her latest screen outing, and Hatami, presented her latest film "The Last Step"  for which he was named best actress here. In her press conference Sarandon spoke more about the importance of motherhood in her life than anything else. Despite her reputation as a political activist the actress said that politics is realy not that important to her, but as a lifelong democrat she is hoping Obama will win --probably in a close race. Asked if she would like to teach acting she said that never having had any acting lessons herself she wouldn't know how to go about it. At the screening before a gigantic overflow crowd she reminded the audiance that "Jeff" is a small independent film that is not geting much play in the States, but she was clearly delighted facing such a sea of expectant faces here. Hatami was accompanied by her two young children aged three and five, and of course by her husband, Ali Mosaffa, who directed the film. Dressed in a flowing white slacks outfit topped by a bright green head scarf the Iranian actress looked more like an Angel from Heaven than a sequestered rep of an evil  Islamic Republic.

The fourth outstanding woman of the week was Eva Zaoralova, film historian, critic and promoter of Czech cinema, who is practically a national monument in the Czech Repulic.

The Antonioni section was curated by Zaorlova, who knew the famous Italian director personally, and focused on his documentaries, not his features, an exceptional body of work in it own right that is rarely seen. In a way this was a festival that spotlighted unusual women.  Mme. Zaoralova has been artistic director (i.e. chief -programmer) of the festival since 1994 and was largely responsible for injecting new life into it when its existence was threatened in the mid nineties. As a film historian and champion of Czech film abroad she has become known all over the film festival circuit. She was also responsible for a special screening of the digitally restored version of Fellini's landmark 'La Strada". A special event at the festival was the launching of a new book by Eva entitled "A Life With Film" at which the tall white haired grand dame appeared in brightly colored robes as usual belying her eight decades.

The Norwegian competition entry "Mer eller mindre Mann" (The Almost Man) was a suprise winner of the Crystal Globe for Best Film along with a $25,000 cash compensation.  Henryk Rafaelson who starred as a thirty year old new father mired in adolescence was named Best Actor, sharing the distinction ex-aequo with Polish actor Eryk Lubos for his powerful  portrayal of a traumatized war veteran in Jan Jakub Kolski's  "To Killl a Beaver".  

Although the Iranian film The Last Step was regarded as rather weak by most professional viewers, Leila Hatami was sufficiently captivating in the role of a famous actress (essentially playing herself) traumatized by the accidental death of her husband --- to walk off with the Karlovy Best Actress award. It turns out that the accident may not have been so accidental and she gigggles uncontrollaby to cover up her chagrin.  The film itself was given a "best" by the FIPRESCI jury of Foreign film critics -- somewhat of a head shaker with possible political undertones. The poster for the film was also voted best festival poster giving "Last Step" three distinctions in all.

 

A special Jury Prize (the equivalent of a Silver bear at berlin) along with $15,000 in cash went to the Italian film "Piazza Fontana" which recounts the story of a huge bomb exloded at a bank on Piazza Fontana in Milan in 1969 and the complex police invetigation that followed. It must be said that the Crystal Globe statuette has a high intrinsic value as the Bohemian crystaL is itself is a highy valued handicraft of the region.

With well over 200 films on view,  many with enticing content or must-see directors, every day brought hard decisions on what to see and what to pass up. A packet of reviews will be presented separately.

Alex, Prague

KVIFF 2012, ECHOES AND ENCORES

with a Certain Geriatric Regard
by Alex Deleon

Besides the customary unveiling of new and upcoming talent from far and wide which is the hallmark of this festival,  Karlovy 2012 provided such an extensive look at film history that these selections alone could have constituted an entire festival on their own.  Among digitally restored new prints of landmark old films were Fellini's "La Strada, 1954, which among other things made burly actor Anthony Quinn into an arthouse icon, and Miloš Forman's "Fireman's Ball" (1967) the last film he made in Czechoslovakia before giving Communism the final finger. Hard to believe that this forward looking Czech director who later made prize winning crowd pleasers in Hollywood such as "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" (1975) and "Amadeus"(1984) is now eighty and still going strong.  His next project concerning a new view of the Munich pact that sold Czechoslovakia down the river to Hitler in WWI is now in the works.

The first unveiling of a digitalic-restoration of David Lean's1962 masterpiece "Lawrence of Arabia" was also screened here as was  the very rarely revived "The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp" made at the height of the war in 1943 by the dauntless duo Pressburger and Powel. Blimp was a epic making sendup of the the stuffy British military class based on a lovingly satirical comic strip which so enraged British prime Minister Winston Churchil that he tried to have it banned. One of those films that is as timeless as Gone With the Wind.  In terms of film history what is arguably the film even of the year is the fifteen hour love letter to the seventh art put together with encycopedic dedication by Englishman Mark Cousins.  Hitting all the high spots and many of the hidden gems as well this amazing documentary was shown here in three easily digestible five hour istallments --with never a dull moment in any of them -- according to those who took time out to take in this special treat.

Now if we' are really talking about the advancing years, Manoel Oliveira of Portugal, 101 (!) is the oldest, still active (sic) film director in the world and a poster prominently displayed all over the festival premises with the large letters "101" announced a new  interview on film with the centenarian helmer from the edge of the continent.  Made by Spanish producer and longtime admirer Luis Minarro who worked with Oliveira on his last two films and spoke with viewers here about his experience with the incerdibly forward looking Mr.Century. Young fellow countryman Rodrigo Areias, 31, whose slow-paced meditative zen western  "Estrada de Palha" was shown in competition, was proud to report that when he showed his new film to Oliveira the elder statesman not only sat through it attentively but gave it his glowing praise.

Manoel de Oliveira
Born	11 December 1908 (age now 103!)

As for older artists still working, and how --we have French director Alain Resnais who will turn ninety in June, and French actor Jean-Louis Trintigmant (81) in this lineup.  Resnais whose dazzling "Last year at Marienbad" changed time scrambling in film forever, checked in with "Vous n'avez encore rien vu" ('You ain't seen nothing yet') wherein a renowned dramatist arranges to have friends who appeared in his play Euridice come together at his funeral where the play is put on.  Full of references to earlier works this could be the famed directors swan song -- or could it?
One of the hottest tickets of the week was  "Amour"  the new meditation on old age, infirmity, and approaching death, by German Michael Haneke who is known for attacking difficult subjects in difficult ways. His principle performers, literally giving the performances of their lives and long careers, are Jean-Louis Trintignant (81) and Emmanuelle Riva (85) playing a loving octogenarian couple whose old age has not quenched their love -- even when she suffers a debilitating stroke. Both these films in the plush Horizons section. Riva came to the fore in Resnais' first feature "Hiroshima mon Amour" (1959) and is also seem in this festival in the Melville retro in "Léon Morin, prêtre" (1961).
Trintignant is one of those actors known for the penetrating intelligence of his portrayals as much as his charm and vulnerability. His debut next to Bridget Bardot in "'And God Created woman" (1956) was the start of a brilliant career not only in France. Some other landmarks of a filmography studded with them are "Z" by Costa Gavras, "The Conformist" Bertolucci, and "Three colors Red", Kieslowski (1994) and of course the international smash hit  "A Man and a Woman" in 1966. In 1986 he and co-star Anouk Aimée did a reprise called "A Man and a Woman twenty years Later'' (!) proving that even then Jean-Louis was not afraid to show his age. Since the subject of Old Age is practically a taboo in cinema and nearly sure death at the box office this entrancing new treatment may be a hard sell outside of the Art house market, but it should do a rousing business there and one can even her tinkles of oscar bells in the distance ... Oh yes, Haneke's "Amour" was very justifiably awarded the Palme d'Or (Grand Prix) at this year's Cannes film festival although it was up against Carax's infamous unholy gem "Holy Motors".

Trintignant at Cannes this year --
 Finally if the subject is elderly artist still active a word about Woody allen is certainly in order.
In the company cited above Woody may rank as a callow youth but he has been plying his unique brand of cerebral humor for nearly five decades, ever since "What's New Pussycat"  in 1965, and it is hard to believe that this international youth idol director is now 76.  Acting in his own film as a retired opera impresario he definitely looks his age but his latest work "To Rome With Love" is something of a return to the zany earlier form that made him into a living American legend.  There have been ups and down in Woody's last few outings but his new love leter to Rome is definitely an up and has some of the finniest shtik in it he has ever done.  One that will go down in the Allen cannon as a super landmark is the opera singer he has singing on stage in a real opera while taking a shower in a real shower stall!  It seems that Woody, on vacation in Rome, has discovered a magnificent new vocal talent in a mortician (funeral director!) who has a voice like Caruso, but only when singing in the shower. With typical Allenesque logic the way to fix that is put the guy in a shower on stage so he can let loose full force --and this he does to the great applause of the dignified opera crowd. Another feature of the film is a most enticing (even if getting a little long in the tooth herself) Penelope Cruz (38) packed mouth wateringly into a blood red mini dress while working as a red hot hotel hooker. "Rome" opened the LA Film festival a month back and closed Karlovy a week ago, demonstrating once again that Woody's brand of filmaking has evergreen appeal to both the mainstream and the art film circuits.
Next up a quick survey of some of the newer films at Karlovy.
Alex in Prague

Trintignant with Anouk Aimée in"A Man and a Woman"  1966 which at the time was the most successful French film ever screened in the foreign market.

Riva at Cannes this year --now 85

Resnais at 89

CRUZ AT CANNES --a stunning thirty eight!

Closing the Book on KVIFF 2012

A Survey of Titles to Watch For
by Alex Deleon, Prague

       
           Jackie Siegel, the Queen of Versailles and some of her eight kids
Because of the eclectic nature and precious programming of Karlovy Vary
many interesting films seen here are not likely to surface or be spotted elsewhere.
Quite a few, however, are of sufficient general appeal to travel far and wide, some
because of the notice they receive at this prestige European event.Among films to watch for that will definitely be "out there"  sooner or later are:

1. Istvan Szabo's "The Door" -- for its focus on women in the main roles and the ever
magnificent Dame Helen Mirren as a regal figure in rags following up her Oscar role as The Queen --
A quiet classic from an old Hungarian master of the craft.

2. "Game Change" USA 2012
The presidential campaign of 2006 -- McCain Versus Obama, with wild card Sarah Palin, sexy governor of Alaska thrown in.
Not a  documentary but a feature film with actors standing in for the original "cast" --
With Julianne Moore playing Palin need anything MORE be said!

3. "The Queen of Versailles", This  IS a documentary, but one so fantastic it reads more like a suspense thriller based on Citizen Kane...
 Even though this is a doc it should be getting general distribution and is worth keeping an eye out for. The rise and fall of the American Dream.  The principal characters, Jackie and David Siegel -- she 33 -- he 74 -- who agreed to display their greed on film, have reconsidered and are apparently suing the director, Lauren Greenfield, for invasion of the privacy they invited her to invade. Therefore, one to see quick before it is withdrawn from circulation. Rags to riches and Richest back to rags --Almost.-- or, The American dream in Reverse.

4. "Holy Motors" by Gallic Bad Boy Leos Carax: Holy Smoke! --John Waters meets Luis Bunuel in Paris ... Don't let this misleading title mislead you. I thought I was  depressed after the first viewing, but in retrospect I realize that I was much more exilirated than depressed. In fact, I can't wait to see it again. And maybe again after that.  A natural born cult film if ever there was one. It has everything except Susan Sarandon in it...

5. "Iron Sky", What's not to like about a movie with Nazis from the Moon invading Earth? ... Far-out Finn Timo Vuorensola teams up on the scifi genre and everything else. Having already done three sci-fi spoofs (The Star Wreck trilogy) Timo seems to be taking over the Absurdist baton from fellow Finn Aki Kaurismaki. The premise here is that a band of Nazis who escaped in 1945 have established a colony on the dark side of the moon and are preparing to invade the home planet to establish a Fourth Reich as the new World Order. One wonders if that might not be an improvement on the World Disorder we have on our hands these days.

6. "Amour"-- or Death can be beautiful when acted out by great artists ... French icons Jean-LouisTrintignant (81)and Emmanuelle Riva (85) give it their all in a bold look at old age, infirmity, and approaching end of life, by Michael Haneke.

7. "To Rome with Love" -- In case you decided to pass the latest Woody Allen up --Don't ! --It's really a riot. A rousing return to his best zany form after a few slight misfires, and a special surprise for opera lovers. Nel Blu dipinto di blu ....Alec baldwin plays a wise latter day Jimminy Cricket and Pamela Cruz is simply Out-of-Sight.

8. "Ang Babae sa Septic Tank" = The lady in the Septic Tank >(Toilet waste accumulation receptacle) is a highly irreverant Pilipino comedy that takes the piss out of filmmakers who will do anything to get themselves a stroll down the red carpet -- even having a major actress deliver a plaintiff oration from inside a septic tank -- This is the most successful Philippine indie ever made, has been making the rounds of the festivals and, in spite of its subject matter, was the Philippine entry at the Oscars last time around. Philippine films are hard to come by but this one is now around and is worth watching for.

ALEX, Prague, July 10, 2012

Scarlet Jo and Natalie Po, a fetching but misplaced pair in The Other Boleyn Girl

The final class production of the fest, "The Other Boleyn Girl", (Non competition) an opulent costume drama set at the court of the most famous of all British Kings, Henry VIII, (who reigned from 1509 - 1547) has echoes reminiscent of the Golden Age of Hollywood when the likes of eminently upper crust Englishmen such as George Sanders played sneering Nazi officers, and flamboyant Australians like Errol Flynn portrayed gunslingers in Dodge City --and never mind the displaced accents! In this glossy British production two quintessential Hollywood starlets, Natalie Portman and Scarlett Johansson, play the titular Boleyn sisters, Anne and Mary respectively, without the least trace of anything but L.A. elocution, while serial beheader Henry Tudor is encamped by Aussie heart throb Eric Bana. The only authentic (and therefore believable) English person in the leading cast is Kristin Scott-Thomas -- (fresh from a French movie a few days ago) -- but her limited appearances only serve to offset the blatant non-Englishness of the others.

For the historical record, Anne Boleyn (Portman) was an utterly unscrupulous scheming courtesan, who aced her younger sister Mary (Johansson) out of the picture as Henry's main mistress, conned the king into divorcing his queen -- to do which he had to break with Rome and establish the independent Church of England -- eventually acceded to the throne herself, and finally got herself shortened by a head when her extravagant conniving got out of hand and went haywire. Nominally one would think that Johansson would be the center of the story since she gives birth to a girl who will later become Queen Elizabeth I, but this is really Portman´s picture and she turns in a powerful portrayal, whereas Scarlett Jo is, for the most part, accessory decoration. Much of the picture plays out as a series of duets featuring the two young ladies, focusing on their mutual affection and severe sibling rivalry, however, while Scarlett is the more eye-filling, Natalie is by far the stronger actress.
Eric Bana is not really bad as the randy tyrant but simply too squeaky clean (especially if one is familiar with the famous Holbein portrait), and handsome to be convincing as a tyrannical butcher like Henry Tudor. This quaint and colorful tale of sisterly rivalry for the affections of a monstrous monarch may pick up some Oscars (especially for costumes and the lavish production design), but I seriously doubt that it will make the wickets click at the multiplexes. What this undeniably handsome first feature by British TV helmer Justin Chadwick (39) really would need to put it over commercially would be somebody like a Mel Gibson as Henry the Headhunter and, maybe, a Harvey Keitel in the background as one of the elder Boleyn scoundrels. I mean, if you're trying to cash in on an Americanization of English history, you might as well go all the way, right? As it is, the picture is another feather in the cap of 26 year old Portman's filmography and a Scarlett Jo performance that will probably be forgotten until this voluptuous young beauty realizes her true destiny and matures into the next Lana Turner. (Not much of an actress, but what an eyeful!)
Following the morning press screening in the Big Hall both American actresses and director Chadwick held court at another heavily crowded press conference because, although she´s not really a big star yet, Scarlett Jo, for her looks alone, is already a major media magnet. Scarlett, with her bright yellow hair, heart-shaped face, perfect nose, almond eyes, full sensuous lips, and porcelain complexion, looked incredibly radiant as usual, clad in a modest flowery print dress, as she responded to uninteresting questions in a laid back California manner, whereas Portman was a bit more on point in her delivery and discussion of the making of the pic. A relaxed Eric Bana, with the remains of a beard still in place (or was it just heavy five o'clock shadow?) acknowledged, with an unmistakable Australian twang, that it was not exactly "hard work" bedding these two young lovelies down in the film (although, it must be said that the bed-in scenes on the screen are extremely discrete).
In terms of feminine pulchritude of staggered ages, it has been a banner week in Berlin what with the fresh young beauty of Scarlett and Natalie following in the wake of the somewhat riper beauty of Penelope Cruz, 33, and the fully Mature good looks of Madonna, 49, and still going strong with a little help from her blessed Kabala water.
Tomorrow: German Prime Minister Angela Merkel attends the screening of Wajda's, WW II epic "Katyn". Buñuel revisited, and some other interesting one shots. And, oh yes, comments on the main prizes
by Alex Deleon, Berlin, Feb. 16, 2008

THE SHORT UNHAPPY LIFE OF RIVKA PEVNER

SCREENPLAY BY CHAIM PEVNER
‘THE SHORT UNHAPPY LIFE OF RIVKA PEVNER”
(alternate Title – ‘RIVKA ON THE BEACH’

NOTE:
The entire story is being framed by a scene in Los Angeles in 1984, when Chaim (now 52) visits this old woman, Manya Bender, an old-time Yiddish Communist, who was Rivka's roommate in New York back in 1931. The story is told in long flashbacks as Manya tells Chaim about his mother whom he never knew because she died when he was only fifteen months old. Only the "current" scenes in LA are in color -- The rest -- the body of the film, is in Black and White in the style of films of the thirties (with lateral "wipes" rolling across the screen, irises. etc.)

THE DIALOGUE IS ALMOST ENTIRELY IN YIDDISH --the English translation I have added mayself is basically to serve as the foundation for the English sub-titles and to guide prospective actors not completely fluent in Yiddish, through the subtitles.

[This is the opening scene -- (Before the main title) – not framed by narration. It mainly serves to set the feeling for the entire movie, and to establish the fiery personality of Rivka Pevner]

RIVKA ON THE BEACH, I: – NEW VERSION, JUNE 1, 2006, LUBLIN
[Scene from a new Yiddish film entitled “The Short Unhappy Life of Rivka Pevner” ]

The scene is Wildwood, New Jersey, around Labor Day weekend , 1931.

(NOTE: My family used to go to Wildwood in the summer, but later started going to Atlantic City after a wave of anti-Semitism occurred and Goyim started putting up signs, “No Dogs and Jews Allowed”, in Wildwood.)

The extended Pevner-Rotfeld family is on the beach having a Jewish picnic and taking dips in the waves. Cousins Beatrice and Berl, respectively three and nine, are playing around in the sand. Bea is helping the three year old boy with a head-full of blonde curls, make sand pies with a toy bucket and shovel. All are in bathing suits, and covered with towels, with maybe a
beach umbrella to shade their beach blankets. Everybody is, of course, gabbing animatedly in Yiddish as they are smoking, snacking, and playing cards on the spread out blankets. Suddenly a swarthy young woman in a white one-piece bathing suit and a towel over her shoulders, comes down to the beach from the boardwalk and approaches them.

“Gib a kik ver kimt!” (look who’s coming) says Chollie, Mollie’s husband (31), as he recognizes the newcomer to the beach party. Now, all shout in excited unison “Rivkele, vos tiste du?” (Rivka, what’re YOU doing here?) – Mir hobn gemeint doch az di bist in New York” (But we thought you were in New York!) says her older sister, Mollie (26).

Flipping her towel around casually, Rivka (22) replies in a studied, offhand manner; “Geveintlich bin ich gevin in New York, ober ich hob aich gevolt zen, bin ich gekimen aher” (well, of course I was in New York, but I wanted to see you (all) so I came down…”) –

The other women cast doubtful glances at each other . Iz, vozhe machste yetzt, Rivka? (So, what’re you doing with yourself these days, Rivka?), Mollie inquires, giving her younger sister a little welcoming hug.

RIVKA: “Nu, vos zol ich machn.? – Ich leren zich zain a lererin af idish“
(Well, what do you think? – I’m studying to be a Yiddish teacher) –

”Yeh, ba di komunisten“, Chollie mutters under his breath. (Yeah, sure – with the Communists..) “Sha, says Mollie, turning to him with a frown – farmach dem pisk” (Shush -- shut your trap) – Chollie is evidently not too happy about his young sister-in-law’s sudden totally unexpected appearance on the scene.

JENNIE: (older sister of both Mollie and Rivka) --
“Gib a kik – zi hot shen a buch”, (Look, she’s got a belly on her already) remarks Jennie, Rivka’s other older sister (32), wryly, noticing that there is a small rotundity in Rivka’s bathing suit below the belt. “Vus heist dus! (What’s this supposed to mean?) Jennie says with a mixture of surprise and tentative disapproval, in her usual forthright manner, placing a hand on the small mound in Rivka’s bathing suit.. A collective sigh of surprise goes up from the other women now gathered around Rivka. The child, Beatrice, still holding her sand bucket, comes running up excitedly and embraces her aunt tightly, tossing the bucket away and exclaiming joyfully, ‘Tante Rivka! – Tante Rivka!’ –

Rivka pats “Beetzy” on the head and plants a little kiss on her forehead. Little Beatrice is now holding Rivka by the hand, as the group, recovering from their first surprise, begins to cross-examine Rivka. A flood of excited questions come at her –

ALL, SPEAKING NEARLY AT ONCE)
“D’host gehat chasene un host indz afile nisht gelozt visn? (You got married and didn’t even let us know?)—Iz ver iz der tate? – Er iz chotsh a Yid? – (So, who’s the father? – Is he at least a Jew?) –

There is a brief expectant pause, as Rivka looks down at her feet and forces some sand between her toes. Beatrice who doesn’t quite understand what’s going on, but admires her aunt Rivka greatly, looks up and searches her face – (nu, tante..well, auntie) -- wondering what the answer will be. Finally, after a pregnant moment, Rivka looks up from the sand and looking
around at everyone square in the eyes, states calmly – almost with pride: “Siz nishtu kaine chasenes” (we’re not having any weddings) – At this all eyes open wide with a collective sucking in of breath: After a momentary pause for emhasis, Rivka continues:

RIVKA: -- Ober ir kent zain zicher az zain foter iz an onshtendiker mentsh .. un a groiser artist!” – (But you can be quite sure that his father is a respectable man .. and a great artist!) –

At this everybody starts talking at once and various broken phrases are heard in a mixture of Yiddish and english – (Chollie, sarcastically) “Yeh, I’ll bet – some artist! What is he a trapeze artist? -- (others) ‘How do you know it’s a he? – Are you a fortune teller, or something. How do you know it won’t be a girl? – I’ll bet he’s a ‘sheygetz’, the father … No, that’s impossible – She only goes around with Jews up there – Yeah, but they’re all Communists – “Free thinkers” – you know what that means – I wonder if she even knows who the father is! – Wait till her mother hears about this – She’ll drop dead on the spot -- --

Little Beatrice has now burst into tears and her mother, Mollie, pulls her away from Rivka and covers her protectively – ‘Vish zich op di nuz, kind, un gey shpiel zich mit dain brider – er zitzt dochtn eyner alien – se ken im gibn a bais a kreb” (Wipe your nose, child, and go play with your brother – he’s sitting over there all alone – he could get bitten by a crab) –

Beatrice does as she’s told, and Rivka is now defiantly holding the floor with all eyes on her.
With head held high and acid in her tone of voice, but also just a bit of hysteria, she makes the following little speech:
RIVKA:
“Mir iz altz eins vos ir burzhuazishe narunem denken – main kind vet zain a ben-zucher un er vet oisvaksn a barimter artist, pinkt azeive zain tate! Un az se shteit aich nisht on vos mir hobn nisht chasene gehat, iz dos mir “vaiter a daige” – Ir kent mir kishn ale veist ir vi – un ich hob aich ale in bud!
(I couldn’t care less what you bourgeois fools think – my child will be a man-child -- and he’ll grow up to be a great artist just like his father – and if it doesn’t suit you that we’re not married, I could care even less – You can all kiss me you-know-where -- and as far as I’m concerned you can all go take a bath!) –

Angry now, and eyes red with incipient tears, Rivka turns and stalks off in the direction of the boardwalk from where she came -- but as she walks off she turns to sister Mollie who is standing there in stunned amazement, slowly shaking her head – and her parting words, half shouted and cast over her shoulder along with her green towel, are:

RIVKA:
Un di kenst unzogen dem Taten, Malke – az bald vet er vern noch-a-mol a ZEIDE!! – --
(..and you can notify our father, Malke, that he’s soon going to be a grandfather again!) – The last word “ZEIDE” , grandfather -- is practically a shriek. In the distance we can just barely make out a black car with a man standing by the open door waiting for Rivka to get in for the ride back to New York.

MAIN TITLE – HERE
………………………………………………………………………………………….......................
NOTE: The child in Rivka’s belly did, indeed, turn out to be a boy, as Rivka was sure it would. She named him ‘Chaim Pevner’. His father, a Spanish artist, didn’t show up for the birth of his son, or at any time after that. Fifteen months after Chaim’s birth Rivka died (perhaps commited suicide) in a mental hospital. She was not yet 24. The child displayed unusual artistic talent and was drawing realistic pictures with sophisticated compositions by
the time he was four. By the time he was seventy-four, he was still busy building castles in Spain.
=======================================================
RIVKA II: THE UNVEILING. ENTER DELEON

Manya’s Narration back in Los Angeles, 1984, begins with this part. (This scene should have the feeling of Joseph Cotten's reminiscings in "Citizen Kane")
MANYA BENDER:
“Your mother had some wild ideas – well, I guess we all did in those days – “Free Love” was one of our principles and we called ourselves “free thinkers” – In other words, we didn’t consider ourselves to be bound by the bourgeoisie social rules and their mortality …. SOUND AND IMAGE FADES OUT – to New York, 1931…

The scene is a tiny apartment on the Lower East Side in New York -- The Apt. of Manya Bender. The time is a sultry summer night in the early summer of 1931. Manya, wearing thick glasses, is poring over some of her 'Yiddish Workers University' school notes. Her class-mate and temporary room-mate, Rivka, is pacing back and forth nervously.
Both are smoking unfiltered Camels. (No cigarettes had filters at the time).
Suddenly, Rivka starts peeling off her clothes -- everything, down to the buff, and stands admiring her figure in the cracked mirror over the sink.

MANYA: Looking up from her work, crushes her cigarette out in a saucer, already full of cigarette butts, which is serving as an ashtray.
Vus iz der mer mit dir, Rivka -- bist meshige gevoren?
(What's the matter with you, Rivka -- Have you gone out of your mind?)

RIVKA: Nein, Manye. Ich vil nor hobn fin dir a meinung.
(Not at all, Manya -- I just want to have an opinion from you ...)

MANYA: (somewhat taken aback as she regards Rivka, who is now turning around methodically in place, to show her nude body off from every angle) -- Meinung? -- Vus far a meining?. (Opinion? – What kind of an opinion ?)

RIVKA: Standing totally nude and unashamed before her studious room-mate "Gib a kik af mir. Ich vil visn tzi di meinst az a meidl mit main geshtalt vet kenen amol gefinen a man far zich?" (Take a look at me. I want to know if you think a gal with a figure like mine will ever be able to find a man for herself)

MANYA: Waving a hand dismissively toward her naked room-mate, but also trying to reassure her, seeing that Rivka is in kind of a state.
"Gei-shen vu-di redst! -- Di host a sheinem kerper -- mit a bisl fleish af di beiner ... Abi di vilst nor viln, veln dir mener nukhyogn azei vi di ketz!"
(What nonsense! -- You have a beautiful body -- with some meat on your bones. As long as you're willing men will chase after you like a bunch of tomcats.)

RIVKA: With a note of doubt in her voice, now dropping her hands to her sides.
"Sicher, Manya? -- bist ober sicher?. (For sure, Manya -- are you really sure?)

MANYA: Speaking as a connoisseur of men.
"Vu den. Farvos zol ich nisht zain sicher? -- Karg hob ich 'boyfrents'?
Meinst az ich veis nisht vos se tit zich mit mener. Avode veste gefinen a man!"
(But, of course! Why shouldn't I be sure? Do I have a shortage of boyfriends? Do you think I don't know what makes men tick? -- Of course you'll find a man.)

RIVKA: (Fishing for more reassurance -- "Ober di meinst nisht az ich bin a bisl tzi fet?
(But don't you think I'm a little too fat?)

MANYA: (impatiently, and with an air of finality) -- "Fet-Shmet! Ich hob dir shen gezogt az mener hobn lieb a meidl vos zi hot epes a bisl fleish af di beiner. A sach beser far an oisgedartn chront. B'meile, bist di gur nisht fet. Host a gitn figur -- di vilst dir nor einredn az di bis a miese. dos iz dain gantzer m'shegas.

(Fat-shmat! I already told you that men like a girl with some flesh on her bones --- a lot better than a skinny dried up twig. In any case, you're not at all fat. You have a good figure. You just want to talk yourself into thinking you're ugly. That's your whole problem -- it's insane.)

Rivka seems to be just slightly relieved, and the trace of a smile plays at the corners of her mouth as she starts to cover herself with a crumpled sheet, still gazing searchingly -- plaintively, into Manya's eyes. The two hold this gaze for a long second.
Finally, Manya says: "Olrait -- tzi zich on, un er zich iyf machn narish".
(Okay -- get dressed and stop making a fool of yourself.)

The tension now seems to be relieved and Manya, lighting up another cigarette, turns her attention back to her Yiddish notes. Rivka slowly and thoughtfully, starts getting dressed again. But after a pause, she once again addresses Manya's to her back. Again, plaintively and searchingly.

RIVKA -- Ober der geshtipltn punim mainer ....
(But what about my pock marked face?)

MANYA, turning her head -- now just about out of patience.
"Her shen oyf niden! Zist nisht az ich arbet tze tun? Vos vilste -- zol ich dir uplekn dem punim? Dos iz gurnisht -- yeder einer hot ergetz vi a chesorn. Host a sheinem punim un her zich iyf tshepn tzi mir, Ich'l dir zogen einmol iber alemol -- az di vest veln gefinen a man, un di velst zich iyfhern ainredn mayses, vest di gefinen a man, a richtikn. Un "dets ol" ! Yetzt loz mir a bisl tin main arbet"

(Oh, come on -- stop noodjing. Cant you see I have work to do? What do you want me to do -- lick your face clean? It's nothing. Everybody has something to complain about somewhere. You have a beautiful face, and stop bothering me already. I'll just tell you once and for all -- if you want to find a man -- and you stop talking all this nonsense into your head -- you'll find
him -- and he'll be the right one. And that's it. Now let me do my work.)

A bit of time passes in silence. Then, as Rivka, now sitting on the bed, bent over, is slowly pulling a stocking up her leg, she utters these words in a half whisper -- as though to herself, but obviously meant to be heard:
RIVKA: "Ich hob shen gefinen a man -- un ikh denk az dos iz der
richtiker..."
( I HAVE found a man -- and I think he's the right one ...")
Startled, Manya looks up from her paperwork and, wide-eyed, turns her full attention back to Rivka.

NEXT: THE SPANISH ARTIST --. (RIVKA III)

MANYA; Vos zogste dortn? ich hob gehert richtik? Di host gefinen a man, zogste.
(What are you saying there. Did I heard you right? -- You say you've FOUND a man?)

RIVKA: Yo. Ich hob zich getrofn mit a richtikn "gentleman" un ich vil az di zolst zoch eich bagigenen mit im.
(Yes. I met a real gentleman, and I want you to meet him too.

MANYA: (with evident curiosity)
Vos redste, Rivele? Ernst? Vos far a man? Ver? Vu ....Dertzeil!
(Are you serious? What kind of a man -- who? Where? -- Let's hear about it!)

RIVKA: Settling into a narrative mood, with a serious expression on her face and nodding her head slightly as she speaks.
Nu, azei iddis -- Er iz an artist -- a moler, un er iz a lerer af kunst in der anderer arbeter universitet, nisht indzers. --
(Well, it's like this -- He's an artist -- he paints and he draws -- and he teaches art in the other Workers University -- not ours -- )

Manya, fascinated, interrupts;
MANYA: Heist iz er iz nisht a Yid? ( So, you mean he's not Jewish?)

RIVKA; Ar tzi a minit -- ar tzi, vel dir altz dertzeilen. ( Wait a second –
just hold on and I'll tell you everything)

MANYA: Excitedly -- Nu -- dertzeil zhe ... (Okay -- Let's hear it.)

RIVKA: Ich veis nit tzi iz er a Yid, tzi nisht. Azeleche zachn frigt men
nit az me treft zich tzim ershtn mol. Ober a "movement mentsh (The
Communist movement) iz er avode. Un a hecher, a sheiner.
Er kimt, ergetz fin a Spanish land, vail er redt English mit an aktzent a
zeiner, un er heist Deleon.

(I don't know if he's Jewish or not. You don't ask things like that when you
first meet somebody. But he's a "movement" person, for sure. Tall, dark,
handsome. He comes from one of those Spanish countries because he talks
English with that kind of accent, and his name is Deleon.)

MANYA: Nu, iz ken zain, efsher iz er a Sfard -- oych meglech ... ober vos
macht es oys. In der Baveigung zonen ale mentshn glaich.
(Well, then, maybe he's a Sephard. That's possible too. But what does it
matter? In the Movement everybody's the same.) Iz dertzeil mer fin im. (So,
tell me more about him) -- A sheiner, a hecher, a tunkler -- an artist a
moler -- a shpanier -- fin voned veiste? Er hot dir gezogt? Un, vezey hoste
zikh mit im getrofn?
(Tall, dark, handsome ...artist, painter -- Spanish -- how do you know all
this? He told you? And how did you meet him?)

RIVKA;
Afn gas -- af der Second Evinye. Ich bin geshtonen afn "koner"
aribertzegein ... un plitzling shteit er ba mir af der zait un kikt mich un.
Un trogt zich mit a greise "portfoglio" intern arm -- veiste -- azeive
ale moler trogn arim. Macht er azei tzu mir ....

(On the Street, on Second Avenue. I'm standing on the corner ready to cross
over and suddenly there he is standing next to me and looking me over. And
he's has a big portfoglio under his arm -- you know -- the kind artists
carry around ... And so he says to me ....)
------------- -------------- ------------- ------------
----------------------------------------------------
Quick FLASHBACH -- Dissolve, or screen rolls aside in a wipe like in the old
movies, and we're on Second Avenue around lunchtime on a busy very warm
sunny day.
DELEON looking down at Rivka in the crush of people at the curb,
approvingly, but not quite a leer. He's wearing a suit, even in the hot
weather and remarks in accented English, "It's a nice day -- yes -- but a
little hot"

RIVKA looks up at him and says with her slight Yiddish accent, coyly, with a
smile: "It certainly is. So why are you wearing a suit on such a hot day
like this?

DELEON: Loosening his shirt and tie with one finger -- "Bueno -- I have to
teach a class in the afternoon, and a teacher has to dress correctly...

RIVKA: Excitedly -- "Oh, you said "bueno"! I know some Spanish. I used to
live in Cuba! Es muy caliente, Senor! -- Muy caliente.

DELEON let's out a highly approving baritone laugh. "Aha, la senorita sabe
hablar espanol". And then very politely, indicating a popular cafeteria
(Rappaports) on the other side of the street -- "Perhaps I can invite you to
have a glass of ice tea -- if you have time, of course".

RIVKA -- Time I have plenty of ..
END FLASHBACK, and back to the room where Rivka and Manya are talking....
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
MANYA’S BRIEF ENCOUNTER WITH DELEON.

HERE, INSERT THE (very important) SCENE WHERE RIVKA, telling Manya that
Deleon has asked her to a dance at his school, that very Friday evening –
insists that Manya come along to see her new “Prince Charming’ with her own
eyes. Manya protests that she has a date herself this evening – but finally
agrees –“But just for a few moments -- then I’ll have to go to meet my own
date”. Together they go to the dance. Rivka, barely able to contain her
excitement, but trying to act cool, introduces Deleon to Manya, and he
politely asks her to dance. The approval in Manya’s eyes – her dignified
smile, etc. – indicate that she is quite impressed by this man and his
elegant behavior. They dance – a few words are exchanged during the dance.
As the music ends, Manya politely takes her leave, but as Rivka accompanies
her the few steps to the exit she bends her head and half whispers to Rivka;
“My god – he IS handsome!” – then scoots out the door.

RIVKA IV: WHO’S MORE STUBBORN?

Scene: Interior. Manya's teeny apartment in New York, the next day. Manya
and Rivka.
Manya is trying to talk Rivka ("Eleanor") out of letting herself get too
involved with this mysterious older man, the artist, Deleon. She
occasionally addresses Rivka by her official English name "Eleanor", and
injects English words and phrases into her discourse here and there, to
underline the universality of her logic. The English she uses is basically
correct and colloquial, but heavily accented, with a few funny turns of
phrase... Note also, that Manya’s Yiddish and Rivka’s Yiddish, is just
slightly different, since they come from different parts of the Ukraine.
Moreover, Manya uses a somewhat more standard Yiddish than Rivka.

MANYA: (reacting to Rivka's claim that Deleon is going to be the father of
her child)
Du bist a zamin akshn, Elinor -- You're as stubborn like a mule! -- Az di
nemst zich epes arain in kop iz nishtu vos tze redn mit dir.
(You'r so stubborn, " -- Elinor" -- as stubborn like like a mule !
-- Once you get something into your head, it's no use talking to you)

RIVKA:
ICH bin stuborn ?! -- Gib a kik in shpigl veste zin ver iz a stuborner
akshn. Di bist nor "jealous" vos ich hob zich gefinen a za mentsh -- a za
man, a sheiner an umshtendiker -- a "gentleman", un noch dertzi, an artyst
mit a groisn talant...

(I'M stubborn! -- Take a look in the mirror and you'll see who the stubborn
one is. You're just jealous because I've found a person like this -- a
handsome, respectable man -- A 'gentleman' and an artist with a great talent
into the bargain...)

MANYA; (Still trying to talk some sense into Rivka's head)
Her zich tzi tze mir, Rivkele. Ershtns biste tzi ying tze hobn a kind.
Tveitns ...
(Listen to me, Rivkele -- First of all you're too young to have a child --
In the second place ...)

RIVKA interrupts:
"Tzi ying" zugste? -- main shvester Malke hot gehat a kind az zi iz gevin
ersht zechtzn yor alt!
("Too young” you say? -- My sister Malke had a baby when she was only
sixteen years old!)

MANYA: (pleadingly)
Rivka, dos iz gor epes andersh. Zi'iz shen geven farhairet -- hot gehat a
man velcher arbet un macht a leibn ... Du veist afiler nisht tzi der
'artiest' dainer hot nisht, chelile, ergetz a vaib -- efsher hot er shen
kinder ...
(Rivka, that's a completely different story. She was already married. --
had a man with a job -- making a living ... You don't even know if your
"arteest" doesn't -- (touch wood)) -- have a wife somewhere -- maybe he even
has children ...

RIVKA: (resolutely) --
Dos macht mir gurnisht ois -- tze hot er a vaib, tze nisht. Di host doch
alein gezogt, Manya -- nisht einmol -- az volste gehat nor a "tshens"
(English), volste zich araingelozt in shvengeren fin a za mins vi George
Bernard Sho -- oder afile fin Leninen alein! -- In indzer velt macht nisht
ois tze hot a man tzen andere vaiber, abi dos iz nor der richtiker mit vemen
tze hobn fin im a kind. Dos veiste, plein end simpl!
(That doesn't matter one bit to me -- if he has a wife or not. Haven't you
said it yourself -- and not just once -- that if you only had a 'chance' you
would get yourself pregnant by the likes of a George Bernard Shaw -- or
maybe even Lenin himself! In our world it doesn't matter if a man has ten
other wives, as long as he's the right one to have a child with. You know
that. It's plain and simpler.

MANYA: (with a tone of resignation)
Olrait, Elenor -- dos iz ober teoretish geredt. Ober di dafst zain altz a
bisl praktish in leibn. Mit vos volste yetzt a kind oishaltn? -- Az di host
nisht a "job" -- a groshn tzu der neshume? Ersht dafste farendikn dos
lernen az di zolst kenen krign a "job", a richtikn, als a lererin. Dernoch
vet efsher zain vos tzi redn.
(Alright, Elenor -- but that's talking theoretically. You still have to be
a little practical in life. How would you support a child? -- You don't have
a job ... or a penny to your name. First you need to finish up your studies
so you can get a decent job as a teacher. After that maybe we'll have
something to talk about.

RIVKA:
Dernoch-dernoch. Ver vaist fin a "dernoch". (slight pause) -- Dervaile
hob ich im gefinen un ich vel im nisht aroislozn fin di hent.
("After that - after that" -- who knows about "after that" -- In the
meantime, I've found him and I'm not going to let him slip through my
fingers.

MANYA:
Her zich tzi tze mir, Elinor ... Oyb di vilst hobn an ernstlechn "opinion"
-- ken ich dir nor zogn az ich mein az di bist in gantzn arup fin zinen. Ti
vu di vilst. Di host zich aingeredt, veste sai-vi-sai uptun dains un keiner
vet dir nisht upshteln. ... vel ich dir nor zogn az di zolst zain "kerfel"
(careful) -- Farshteist? -- Votch your step!

(Listen to me, Eleanor ... If you want an honest opinion, I can only tell
you that I think you've gone off your rocker. Do what you want to. Since
you've talked yourself into this, you're gonna do what you're gonna do
anyway, and nobody is going to stop you... So all I'm going to say to you is
just be careful. You get it? Votch your step!)

RIVKA:
Dafst zich gurnit ergern af main khezhm -- Doan vorry about me, Manya --
Ich veis vois ich ti. Un az ich vel take hobn fin im a kind, vest di zain
tze-nim azeive a tzveite miter.
(You don't have to worry about me, Manya -- I know what I'm doing. And if I
really do have a child from him you'll be like a second mother to him.)

MANYA: (dryly)
Good lok. Abi gezint. Ober ich denk altz az di bist tzedreit gevorn.
(Good luck. As long as you stay healthy. But I still think you have a
screw loose.)
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
BACK TO MANYA AND CHAIM IN L.A., 1984
Manya, sipping TEA, continues her tale in her slightly funny English.
=======================================================-
(RIVKA V)
BRIGHTON BEACH – NARRATION:
"Vel, Chaim, da next Vikend was the fourth of July, and over da vikend she
disappeared -- completely. I didn't see her for three days.
On Monday she comes back, all sunburned, from the beach ...

Dissolve back to Manya's apt. in New York, 1931 -- Interior, morning --
Manya is making herself a glass of TEA, when there's a knock at the door...
Manya already recognizes Rivka’s knock and throws the door open.
Rivka is standing there all smiles and excited with something in her hand.
Her first words are:
“GUESS WHAT MANYA!”

MANYA: (on the verge of anger)
Vos far a “ges vot” -- Vu biste geven a gantzen Vikend?
(What’s with the “guess what”? Where have you been all weekend?)

Rivka steps in, breathlessly, drops her things on the bed, but still has
some kind of paper in her hand.
RIVKA:
Zetz zich avek, vel ich dir dertzeilen di gantze mainse.
(Sit yourself down and I'll tell you the whole story)

MANYA: Nem ersht a gluz tei, meshugene.
(First take a glass of tea first, nut-case!
-- slight pause, as Rivka catches her breath and settles down on the bed)

RIVKA: (coyly) Manya – d’ost epes a sigaretkele?
(Manya, maybe you have a little ciggie …?)

MANYA: (frowning, and pacing about – Several plates and saucers serving as
ashtrays are full of crumpled butts smoked down to the end )
Ich hob zey ale oisgerechert Gedaiget af dir. Avekgegangen azei, on a
vort! Afile ibergelozt dem shlisl. Nu, iz vos-zhe iz di manse daine?
Zicher a megile!

(I smoked them all up. Worrying about you. Leaving like this without a
word! You even forgot your key. Okay, so what’s this story of yours? I’ll
bet it’s a good one!)

RIVKA: (articulating her words very deliberately, for emphasis.)
Ich bin gevin afn yam – mit Deleonen -- in Braitn Beach.
(I was at the ocean – with Deleon – in Brighton Beach.)

She pauses dramatically to let these significant words sink in – and then
continues;
„Un dortn – afn beach – hot er gemacht fin mir a sketch – a portret – Ot gib
a kik.
(And there on the beach, he made a sketch of me – a portrait – Take a look.

Rivka shows Manya a drawing made on the back of a brown paper bag . It’s a
very professional looking pencil drawing of herself in a bathing suit,
posing by some pilings like a bathing beauty. She’s obviously very proud of
this small work of art. As Manya examines the pencil portrait intently,
Rivka says:

RIVKA: (expectantly)
Nu, vus meinste itztert? Khob dir nisht gezogt az dos iz a muler mit an
oisergeveinlichn talant?
(Well, whaddya think now – Didn't I tell you he was an artist with an
exceptional talent?)

Manya is impressed with the quality of the drawing – even on a paper bag –
and she is now brimming with curiosity. Finally she says decisively:
MANYA:
Zeyer shein. Der man iz gevis a fainer moler. Ober vos noch hoste getun mit
im? Bist nisht geven di gantze tzait afn beach...
(Quite nice. This main is certainly a fine artist. But what else did you
do with him...? You certainly didn’t stay on the beach the whole time.)

RIVKA: (dreamily)
O, a sach zachn – a sach zachn – -- Di zist ober vi gliklich ich bin.
(Oh, lots of things – lots of things – But you can see how happy I am)
Der man vet vern der tate fin main kind.
(This man is going to be the father of my child.)

MANYA: (Dryly, philosophically – with a slight, skeptical nod and dropping
of the eyelids) –
‘Abi gezunt. Oib azey, zol nor zain in a guter yeshua…

(As long as you’re healthy. If this is the way it’s going to be, may it
turn out for the best.)
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dissolve back to L.A., 1984 -- NARRATION:
Manya continues with her recollections, a far off look in her eyes:
(English)
MANYA: Well, soon after that we got our teaching certificates and I was
offered a job in a different city – Youngstown, Ohio, to be exact – so I
picked myself up and went there. And I didn’t see Eleanor again for almost
a year. We lost touch with each other. But the next summer (1932) when I
came back to New York I ran into her on Second Avenue, and – let me tell you
– She looked terrible! – absolutely terrible.

"RIVKA, VI --TO PHILADELPHIA WITH BABE IN ARMS" --

DISSOLVE TO SECOND AVENUE, New York, on a warm day at the end of May, 1932.

Manya, sighting Rivka in the sidewalk crowd -- aghast at her appearance:
MANYA: "My God, Rivka -- What happened to you -- Bist in gantzen a tel
gevoren -- kikst ois vi a vilde!
(My God Rivka -- What's happened to you? You're a complete wreck! -- You
look like a wild animal!)

RIVKA: (Very wearily, almost in a trance, as she recognizes Manya)
Oy, Manya -- Don't esk... Frig nisht -- Ich hob gehat a kind un ikh hob
nisht afile vi tze voinen - vi aniderleign dem kop. Ich gey arim afn gas ...
(Don't ask! -- I had a baby and now I'm homeless. I'm walking the streets.)

MANYA: (very alarmed)
Oy vey iz mir -- gevald geshrign -- Iz vu iz dos kind yetzt?
(Oh my God -- This is bad ... So, where is the baby now?)

RIVKA: Ich hob im ibergelozt ba mentshen af a pur tig, ober alein drey ich
zikh arim afn gas ...
(I left him with some people for a couple of days, but I have no place to
stay -- I'm on the street.)

MANYA: Vos redste Rivka? Dos iz immeglech! A kind hoste gehat un di host
afile nisht a dach iber dem kop?
(What are you talking about, Rivka! This is impossible. You have a baby and
you don't even have a roof over your head....)

RIVKA: (apparently resigned to her fate)
Nu, vus ken ich dir zogn -- Azei iddis. (What can I tell you? This the way
things are...)

Manya leads Rivka into Ratner's Kosher restaurant seeing that she looks half
starved with dark rings around her eyes.
MANYA: "Kum, veln mir ersht chapn a bais -- (Come on -- Let's first get a
bite...)

They sit down at a table and Manya stops a passing waiter, hurriedly giving
him an order.
They sit looking at each other for a minute or two, waiting for the food to
appear.
The waiter reappears with two bowls of hot chicken soup. Kaiser rolls and
pickles are already on the table. Next comes some gefilte fish and two
glasses of hot tea.
Rivka is looking down, picking listlessly at her food as Manya scrutinizes
her with great concern.

MANYA: Rivka -- di kenst zich nisht arumfirn azei -- kikst ois vi a mes.
(Rivka, you can't go on like this -- you look like a living corpse)
Mir veln gein upnemen dos kind --right now -- herst? -- Un mir veln foren
mit im kain Filadelfia tzu daine elkteren.
(We're going to pick up the baby right now -- hear me? -- And we'll take him
right to Philadelphia to your parents)

RIVKA: (Shaking her head in despair)
Vus redste, Manya -- zey veln mir derargenen! Zey veln mir nisht afile
arainlozn in'oiz --
(What're you talking about, Manya. They'll KILL me! They won't even let me
in the house...)

MANYA:
Narishkeit! Avode veln zey dich arainhnemen. Dos kind iz zeyer einikl ...
(Nonsense! Of course they'll take you in. The child is their
grand-child!)

RIVKA:
Ich veis nisht, Manya -- Ich veis gur nisht -- Di kenst nisht main taten. Er
hot a misikenem "temper". Er ken zich amol untzindn vi a retzeyech. Un di
mame iz azei frim, zi volt avek-gefaln afn ort efsher mit a hart-atek!
(I don't know, Manya -- I just don't know ... You don't know my father. He
has a terrible temper -- Sometimes he can blaze up like a killer. And my
mother .. she's so religious, she might just collapse on the spot -- with a
heart attack!.)

MANYA: (Taking charge) --
Nishtu vos tze redn. It's settled. Mir nemen up dos kind un mir nemen dem
ershtn bus kain Filadelpfia -- Un det's ol! -- By da vey -- (by the way) --
Meg ich dir fregn ver iz der tate fun dem kind?
(There's nothing to talk about. It's settled. We picking up the kid and
taking the first bus out to Philadelphia. -- And that's all! -- By the way
-- Do you mind if I ask who the father of this child is ...

RIVKA: (Slightly surprized at the question)
Ich daf dir zogn? Di veist doch ver der tate iz ...
(I need to tell you? -- You know who the father is... don't you?)

MANYA: (Insistently) -- Iz vu iz er tze-nalde rikhes yetzt ahingekumen?
(So where the hell is now?)

RIVKA: Tearfully,
Please, Manya --Please -- Frig mir nisht azeleche zachen!
(Please, Manya -- Please, don't ask me things like that!)

MANYA --(Knowingly) -- AHA! (I get the picture)
Fain. Fain! Gib zich a heib un lomir gein gefinen dos kind.
(Fine. Dandy. Pick yourself up and let's go get the baby.)

Yetzert-o -- Un a sof tzi di mainses. Dis iz en "amoijency!" -- farshteist,
tzi nisht?
(Right now, this minute, and that's the end of it. This is an 'emergency' --
You understand, or don't you!)

RIVKA: (resigned, worn out -- but dimly realizing that this is her only
hope)
Vus ken ich dir zogn? -- It's "op to you".
(What can I say -- It's up to you.)

Manya leaves some money on the table for the bill, and with Rivka huddling
against her, they exit the restaurant.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
SCENE: Dark interior of the night bus to Philadelphia. Manya, Rivka and the
baby in Rivka's arms. Rivka is dozing. The baby starts to cry. Rivka,
aroused, gives him a bottle and he stops crying. Sound of the bus on the
road in the night.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
SCENE: Philadelphia. Chilly early morning. Exterior. Street with a row of
scraggly houses and some sick looking trees. Manya and Rivka holding the
baby, are standing before a little ramshackle red-brick house in this
obviously poor neighborhood. (38th and Parrish). The house has a small
overgrown plot of grass in front and some low cast iron fencing that is
about half falling over.

RIVKA: Conferring with Manya in a low, hoarse voice, nearly a whisper.
'Manya -- ich hob mere. Gei di arain frier un red mit zey. Ich vel zich
bahaltn du hinterm beim.
(Manya, I'm scared -- You go in first and talk to them. I'll hide behind
this tree...)

Manya goes up to the house and rings the bell.
A middle aged man with a scruffy beard, wearing glasses, comes to the door.
He has suspenders on but no shirt -- just his wooly underwear top. He has a
Yiddish newspaper in one hand and a burning cigarette in the other. He was
probably in the midst of having his morning coffee. This is Boruch Pevner,
Rivka's father, age about fifty two, although he looks older.

BORUCH: (coughing wityh a hacking cough)
Yo -- vos vilt ir? Eyb farkeifn dafn mir gurnisht hobn.
(Yes. What do you want. If your selling something we don't need anything.)
MANYA:
Far keifn, farkeif ikh nisht. (I'm not here to sell anything) --
Antshuldigt mir -- ich vil nor visn, tze zait ir Boruch Pevner.
(Please excuse me -- I only want to know if you are Boruch Pevner)

BORUCH:
Boruch Pevner bin ich ... tze voser a nitz?
(Boruch Pevner -- that's me. Who wants to know and what for?)

MANYA: (As politely as she can manage)
Ir zolt mirt antshuldign di shterung azoy in frimorgen ... Ich heis Manya un
ikh bin di beste khaverte fun aier tochter, Rivken.
(I hope you'll forgive the intrusion so early in the morning -- My name is
Manya, and I am the best friend of your daughter, Rivka)

BORUCH: Take? (Really) -- A worried look comes over his face.
Kimt arain. Dafst nisht shtein in droisn. S'is zich epes mit ir getrofn?
-- Zi voint doch in New Yorik...
(Come right in. No need to stand outside. Did something happen to her?
She's supposed to be in New "Yorik" )

MANYA: Mister Pevner -- ich vil aich derkleren a simche -- Aier tochter hot
gehat a kind -- Ir zait der zeide fun a vunderbar shein yingele. Er heist
Chaim. Ir megt zich freien... af aier nai enekl.

(Mr. Pevner, I want to announce a joyous event. Your daughter has a baby.
You are now the proud grandfather of a wonderful, beautiful little boy. His
name is Chaim. You have every right to rejoice -- -- over your new
grandchild.)

BORUCH: (somewhat perplexed)
A yingele zogste? ... Mir hobn shen dershpirt az se tit zich epes mit ir.
Ober a shein ingl -- Veiste-zhe ver iz der tate?
(A little boy, you say? ... We already had an inkling that she might be in
trouble -- But a beautiful little boy? -- Well, can you tell me who the
father is?)

MANYA:
Dos lomir redn shpeter, Reb Boruch. Dervaile shteit aier tochter mit aier
einekl af di hent do in droisn farm hoiz, in der kelt, un zi iz nisht
gezunt, un zi hot moire araintzukumen.
(Ahem -- let's talk about that later, Sir Boruch. Meanwhile your daughter
is standing out there in front of the house in the cold, with your grandson
in her arms -- she's not in very good shape, and she's afraid to come in.)

BORUCH. (He lets out a shout -- something between joy and anger)
"Oy, a bruch tze maine sonim! Zol zi arainkimen! -- Ich vil zin dos kind.
(A curse on all my enemies! Let her come in. I want to see the child!)

From the kitchen, Boruch's wife, Chaya, overhearing the sudden commotion
calls out.
CHAYA: Buruch! -- vos hoste gegibn a zamin geshrei -- mit vemen redste? Vus
tit zich dortn?
(Boruch -- why are you hollering about? -- Who are you talking to? --What's going on out there?)

BORUCH; Gurnisht, Chaya -- gur nisht. Ich red mit imitzen -- dos ales --blaib dortn --
(Nothing, Chaya -- nothing. I'm talking to somebody, that's all. Stay where you are.)

But CHAYA is curious. She comes out of the kitchen dusting some flour from
her hands, then wiping them off on her apron. She, of course, has her head
covered with a kerchief. Catching sight of Manya she says to Boruch; "Ver
iz dos vaibl? Tze vos iz zi gekimen ....
(Who is this young lady? What's she doing here?)

To be continued --

Will Boruch beat the shit out of Rivka when he has one of his temper tantrums?
Will Rivka take the baby and throw it into the Schuylkil River to spite him?
How will Chaya, who is exceedingly religious and pious, take all this?

Tune in again next week, when the makers of Leibowitz's Lokshn bring you
another hair-raising installment of "The Short Painful Life of Rivka
Pevner, Communist!".