The Opera Queen

Category: film

Faust It

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On October 6, 2011

In film, interviews, movies, music

Faust is one of my favorite legends. The story of a man who defied the limits of mortality and the chains of morality has a resonance far past its German origins. I devoured both the Marlowe and Goethe tales as a child, enchanted by the mix of the dark and the divine. Years later, I discovered the operatic, musical, cinematic, and rock and roll adaptations. Faust reverberates a lot through popular culture, even making an appearance at the Crossroads, with one Robert Johnson. It brings up questions around how much you’re willing to trade in order to get what you want – not necessarily what you need, as the Rolling Stones astutely noted, but what your ego shrieks at you to go after, whether it’s love, money, fame, or a gilt-edged, flourescent combination of all three. “Careful what you wish for; you just might get it” -truer words were never more ironically bleated.

It’s a myth with personal resonance for many people, particularly those working in the arts; how much would we be willing to sacrifice in order to live comfortably? Compromise is a fact of life and a frequently a necessary rusty old catalyst for success; how much of our selves -our morals, beliefs and ideals -would be give up in order to be published/heard/seen? There’s always a trade-off, as Faust reminds us. Nothing comes easy -and nothing ever comes for free.

Director F.W. Murnau, best known for the creepy vampire flick Nosferatu, filmed a much-lauded version of Faust that was released in 1926. It would be his last German work before going off to Hollywood. Though we can’t surmise the sorts of sounds Murnau might’ve wanted for his classic work, we can at least use our imaginations, something that’s less and less common in the movie house these days. Accomplished Canadian composer Robert Bruce runs a series of live scoring events for silent films. He’ll be performing live musical accompaniment to Faust this coming Friday (tomorrow) night. We exchanged ideas about the film and the role of music in cinema.

Why Faust? What’s the attraction?

In this particular case, it is the film more than the legend for me. I have looked at many silent films in search of finding ones that still hold up well today, and ones that do well with my musical scores. I have to believe in the film quite a bit to even get started. Faust was a special case -the film is truly wonderful! What I have done with it musically is easily my best and most effective effort out of all the silent films I have scored. This sort of thing doesn’t happen too often in any multimedia project, where the planets just line up so well.

 

How did composing for Faust compare with other silent films you’ve scored?

More work went into composing special original music for Faust. The score is also longer than any other one (it’s just under two hours), and it’s one of the very rare silent film scores I’ve done that uses more of my deep, more (obviously) classical/ambient music, as opposed to the comedy programs which generally use lighter music. It is more involved -but also more rewarding, for me, and, seemingly, for the audience too.

Why do you think live scoring has become such a popular phenomenon in 21st century culture?

I’ve been lucky to have done extremely well with my silent film programs so far. Audiences have been very receptive and happy with my programs. Since I only work with select films, I’ve had the opportunity to really develop the scores and see that they blend and work well with the story/visuals. That’s something that probably didn’t happen too much back in the 1920s, as new films came in the theaters pretty much every week, and the house musicians had to keep up. It’s almost an advantage today to go back and revisit like this.

Silent film/live music programs became a lost art at the start of the sound era. They are also a very different kind of experience. I think the gradual rediscovery of (live scoring) has been a pleasant surprise for many people in recent times. Also, as they are so retro and low-tech – I think that is refreshing in today’s super-highly-produced film/media environment. Artists and filmmakers in (the early 20th century) had to rely on pure talent and ability and music, and far less on technical and editing tricks. That shows. Also, the live music element, when it works well, is a very different experience -it’s more involved than a recorded score.

Winning!

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On April 20, 2011

In film, movies, Non-Classical Writing, popular culture

I didn’t know a thing about Win Win when I walked into the cinema to see it lastnight. I only knew it had award-winning actor Paul Giamatti as the lead, and it’s been popular with cinema-going New Yorkers who’s tried to get tickets, only to find screenings have sold out.

Lastnight wasn’t too crowded with people, but the film itself is chalk-full of ideas -and that corny old concept of heart. Except that in writer/director Thomas McCarthy‘s capable hands, it isn’t corny. He takes what could’ve easily been a very sentimental, schmaltzy concept and delivers with panache, subtlety, and a genuine human feeling for the characters and situations depicted.

Win Win is about a small-town lawyer who makes a morally heinous decision out of sheer financial desperation, and is forced to live with its consequences. McCarthy gently, if skillfully, weaves together twin themes of survival and family (and the connection therein) by offering an unflinchingly look at good, everyday people who say and do ugly, everyday things. The connection Giamatti’s character, Mike, shares with the young, sullen Kyle (Alex Schaffer) grows more complex, and yet clearer, with every scene. Mike doesn’t see his younger self in Kyle, so much as his current one; struggling against tough odds to find his place, he lashes out, does dumb things, and ultimately comes to understand the power of unconditional love and acceptance as a powerful agent for personal transformation.
The concept of “winning” is laced throughout the work: Kyle’s winning a wrestling match Mike and his friends are coaching, Mike winning in court, both of them winning against the odds. Mike ultimately wins in the end, and Kyle ultimately wins in the end (and Mike’s family, who play a major role throughout the film, win too) – but that win comes with huge compromises. Mike does the very thing he said he wouldn’t do for income; Kyle is estranged from his mother (even if that’s probably a plus), and Mike’s family is placed with the twin challenges of him not being there much, and taking care of both a newcomer and his relative. Winning? Hell yes. No one said life was perfect -but it is always full of possibilities for growth, even (or especially) through the lean times.
I thought about this concept of “winning” riding home on the subway, amidst squeaky breaks and the inevitable announcements from desperate people looking for spare change. Who’s really “winning” in this land of plenty? The notion is, for me (and I write this as a totally uncompetitive person), more about doing “whatever the f*ck it takes” (to quote a line from the movie) and less about demolishing your opponent; it’s about your rise, not another’s descent. It’s about understanding what losing is, too. You can’t understand the sweet taste of a win without knowing the acrid, bitter taste of loss. I had the good fortune of recently winning a few sets of tickets to various cultural happenings around New York, which has been cheering. I didn’t necessarily have to “beat” anyone to do it -it was random luck-of-the-draw -but there’s always a victor, and its opposite. One doesn’t -can’t -exist without the other.
McCarthy deftly demonstrates this in a short scene in Win Win, where he shows Mike’s friend Terry (Bobby Cannavale) sitting glumly outside what was once his house, where his ex-wife now lives with a local handyman.
“It’s MY house!” he barks at Mike over the phone, after his friend chides him for his obsession. Oh, but it’s hard to let go of the old and the comfortable, even that world has turned hideous and strange.
Living in New York is teaching me to embrace winning and losing, and to understand there’s more to both (and its respective outcomes) than meets the eye. Some days are all about one, some days, the other, and that’s probably how it should be, though it’s sometimes hard to accept. Will we play dirty? Throw our opponent against the floor with reckless fury? Allow our reactions to rule our better sense? Walking away from Win Win, it occurred to me that it’s how we wrestle with winning and losing -and our ideas around both – in our daily lives that matters. Acceptance exists, as Win Win reminded me, it’s just a question of embracing it -and understanding that living that win is probably a whole lot different than we could’ve ever imagined.

You’re Where?

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On September 20, 2010

In film, movies

I like being challenged in cinema -confused, even. Daniel Cockburn‘s You Are Here fits the bill beautifully. Part detective-story, part Borgesian puzzle, the work draws on a number of influences, from Dali to Phillip K. Dick to steampunk. Cockburn has concocted a tale that will furrow your brow even as it opens your heart.

I had the opportunity of speaking with actor-filmmaker Nadia Litz about the film -and her own work -as part of this year’s Toronto International Film Festival. It was illuminating to glean her insights, as well as her thoughts around acting with fellow Canadian thespian Tracy Wright, whose final onscreen appearance in the movie is as much about the heart as it is the head. Wright waas beloved by many in the Canadian arts world; she tragically passed away earlier this year, leaving a gaping hole in the theatre and film worlds here. Ergo, the meeting of emotional and intellectual couldn’t be made more plain than in the many close-ups Cockburn has of her face. Litz is eloquent in speaking about not only a great actor, but a great personal friend.

Nadia Litz on You Are Here by CateKusti

Equally, the actor also witty and wise in chatting up her own short that screened at TIFF. With the intriguing title of “How To Rid Your Lover Of A Negative Emotion Caused By You”, the work is a zesty mix of macabre humor and ugly truth. Like, literally pulling-stuff-out-of-yours-and-your-loved-ones-guts truth. Ouch.

I really felt Litz really hit on a piece of honesty in this film, in a much more bold, if equally compelling way, to You Are Here. Both works are, at their essence, about the importance of connection; even fraught with peril, upheaval and discomfort, human connection is perhaps the most valuable thing we have -and the thing we most often take for granted, that passes us by, flickering, dying, and finding manifestation in something -anything -else, even its reverse. Ugly truths indeed.

I Want To See This Movie

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On September 19, 2010

In film, movies

Don’t you?

After watching the preview, I’m more eager than ever to find out what happens to these young people. From the Kickstarter page description:

For the first time a film gives a voice to Sudanese youth from different origins, Muslims and Christians. The Waiting Room is an intimate portrait of a society that remains unknown to most and misunderstood by many. It addresses contemporary issues of identity and religion which continue to shape the world we live in.
…
Maybe you’ve donated to causes for Darfur, but wouldn’t you like to know what it’s really like to live in Sudan? A lot of political decisions are being made by our governments about Sudan, but we still know so little about the people who live there.

In light of the United Nations summit on the Millenium Development goals starting this week, stories like the one Alexandra Sicotte-Levesque presents here are more important than ever. Amidst the heady rhetoric and plaintive calls to Do The Right Thing (which is more complicated than it should be), the human, real stories like the ones presented in Sicotte-Levesque’s film seem to get lost. And they shouldn’t. The MDGs are about people, after all -not statistics.

And statistics -of the glammy kind -are really all I’ve heard about when it comes to films lately. There’s something seriously refreshing for me to come upon a movie (make that, movie-in-the-making) like this after two solid weeks of non-stop glitzy TIFF coverage. Dear wag-tongued media, please, no more frock-and-name-dropping stories. I don’t mind the odd bit of fun, but the omnipotent wall of Glamazonian coverage lately has been like eating a steady diet of icing.

In truth, there were a whack of great, socially relevant films at the film fest this year -and hey, one of ’em won the People’s Choice Award (kudos, NFB & Mr. Suzuki!). I hope The Waiting Room will be among the lot at a future TIFF. Fingers crossed.

Amazon Rising

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On September 18, 2010

In film, movies

Long after I’d seen Amazon Falls I was thinking about it, about how we perceive celebrities, and about how far I’d go to chase my dreams. I was also thinking about how incredible it was that this movie, shown as part of this year’s Toronto International Film Festival, got made in such a short space of time.

Director Katrin Bowen had originally planned on making another feature, but when that fell through, having already assembled a team, decided -bang -to make Amazon Falls, which explores the dreams and painful realities of being an aged-40 female actor in Hollywood. Partly based on her own time as a Troma performer, Bowen astutely cast former beauty queen April Telek as her leading lady, and fills the screen with all manner of creep and player, including a memorable turn from former X-Files baddie William B. Davis as a predatory producer. Also notable is the gorgeous, sparse score from Step Carruthers that nicely compliments the main character’s harrowing experiences without ever imposing saccharine emotion. Though the tale of broken Hollywood dreams is common, there’s nothing saccharine, or predictable about “Amazon Falls” or its characters.

Indeed, it isn’t incidental that the film is dedicated to Lana Clarkson, the female B-movie actor who became tragically mainstream-famous only in death; legendary music producer Phil Spector was sentenced for second-degree murder in 2009. If ever there was a perfect distillation of the Hollywood dream gone bad, that sad situation had to be it. The connection to Clarkson, and the thousands like her, is felt all through the movie, and not just via the similar names. Even days after viewing the film I was still thinking about Jana (played by April Telek), and the thousands like her who sacrifice everything -home, family, dignity, sanity -in the name of getting that one dream part that will (or, more than likely, won’t) change everything. In a broader sense, Amazon Falls poses some tough questions: how often do we tell ourselves lies -about career, relationship, strengths, weaknesses – and how damaging are they in the long run?

Katrin Bowen and I talked about this and more during our interview amidst the madness of TIFF; she’s enthusiastic, passionate, and, like the many filmmakers I interviewed this year, really articulate about not only her own work but the themes she deals with, notably the way women are treated in Hollywood. We spoke on September 13th, just days after the film’s premiere, when “Amazon Falls” was receiving a boatload of buzz:

Katrin Bowen & Amazon Falls by CateKusti

The movie screens one more time as part of TIFF, at the Yonge-Dundas AMC at 9:15pm. The fest -indeed, the entire film industry -might look a little less glam afterwards, but any dearth of faith in the power of film will be swiftly, powerfully restored. Thank you Katrin, and thank you to all the Janas out there, toiling, fierce, and ever-glamorous.

Starry Night

By

On August 15, 2010

In film, movies, music

Considering Toronto is cold at least half the year (if not more), anytime there’s an opportunity to get outside, in the nice weather, to … do stuff (read: anything!)… us locals take it. We’ll even sit on a beach that isn’t a real beach.

One of these carpe-diem-esque activities in watching movies out of doors. True, other locations around the city have had this very-same activity -including screenings at the loud and cruelly bright (and equally chaotic and utterly manky) Yonge-Dundas Square. I love Y-D Square for live music shows and some other live events (World Cup time is always interesting… if a bit dangerous if you’re a small woman) but for movies? Hmm. Would it be silly of me to want something intimate in an outdoor arena? Or is that being a bit… outre?

Enter Open Roof Films. Started by a group of art-minded Torontonians (including Michael MacMillan, former Executive Chairman and CEO of Alliance Atlantis), the series has a special focus on showcasing Canadian talent, as well as building community among the vast network of Toronto’s numerous cultural and economic pseudo-villages. I interviewed one of the founders of this newly-minted series a couple weeks back on the radio, and during that interview I was told the series is based on a similar idea out of New York City, and arose from that, as well as casual conversations between people who just… love movies (a lot), and, like me, were seeking a way of bringing people with similar passions together. Seated in a group, illuminated by a screen’s glow and a canopy of stars, one becomes enraptured with the night, the sound, the music, and the crowd. Really, you can’t much more intimate.

Part of what gives the Open Roof Film series this special brand of intimacy is its location; situated in the parking lot of a local brewery, the space is nestled between a raised highway (and Lake Ontario) to the south (and yes, you can actually see the lake), the thick-set brick building of the Amsterdam Brewery to the West, and a massive screen and sound system to the north . The East opens to the spectacular light show of the CN Tower and the cluster of skyscraper in the financial district. You’re close enough to the lake that you can actually see stars when the sky darkens. A gaggle of portable chairs is set up where the seriously filmy-minded can situate themselves, while a wide bar runs the length of space at the back, for the more social among us. It’s a nice set-up that encourages interaction and conversation, while providing a respectful option for those who want to sit and concentrate.

Not that there was a whole lot of that happening the night I attended. This Movie Is Broken, the film featuring band Broken Social Scene, was being screened, and the evening had the distinct feel of a gigantic party, much like the band’s own concerts. Observing the crowd swaying and smiling (some even danced), I couldn’t help but wonder how many had (or hadn’t) gone to see Bruce MacDonald’s movie when it was shown in a cinema proper. How much did being outside on a beautiful summer night influence their decision to see it? To go to a place where they could drink beer, smoke, dance with their girl/boyfriends, and laugh and chat with their friends? Probably a whole lot.

This Movie Is Broken is just the sort of film that was perfect for an outdoor film series; with a romantic storyline interspersed with some genuinely excellent concert footage (taken from a Toronto show last year), MacDonald’s dreamy, gorgeous homage to love and music was a genius choice to play at Open Roof Films, and a great example of the power of outdoor event to draw disparate group of people together. While the age of attendees ranged from anywhere between 25 and 40, there was no “average” anything (other than the challenging parking, which is de rigeur in Toronto, alas). There was a nice casual vibe to the entire evening, even though the audience maintained a respectful (ahem, Canadian) silence through much of the movie’s running time.

It was interesting when, peeking through the brewery windows (that lead to the loos) at one point, seeing the tiny dots of enraptured faces sitting mute and staring at a screen as the CN Tower flashed sades of blue and red past them. It says something about the power of cinema, music, and togetherness that simply can’t be replicated in a multiplex. Combined with the gorgeous after-film visuals of artist Brian T. Moore and the shining skyline, one couldn’t help but be intoxicated. Noise, motion, light, stillness, silence -and lots of gravel: I think this is the beginning of a beautiful romance… or maybe a re-introduction to an old lover -movie-going -I thought I’d forgotten the smell and taste and touch of. What bliss.

Making Docs Hot

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On March 30, 2010

In film, movies, music

I have a little movie confession to make: Hot Docs is my favourite film festival. Sorry, Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF), don’t get jealous. The problem with TIFF is, despite its marquee appeal and oodles of excellent, beautiful content, it still feels chalk-full of sparkly, starry hype; it’s like putting ten cans of frosting on one cake. I kind of like cakes on their own, actually, with a nice cup of tea. And Hot Docs (running April 29th to May 9th) is just that.

There’s also a certain timeliness to the Hot Docs works that come to Toronto every spring. For instance, the documentary coming to Hot Docs about assassinated Pakistani PM Benazir Bhutto, has a true resonance, especially as the country is rapidly becoming a fixture on the nightly news, and there is more coverage than ever -even give years ago -with a diverse array of topics on Pakistan, including (incredibly) fashion. The film, Bhutto, by filmmakers Duane Baughman and Johnny O’Hara, had its world premiere in the U.S. Documentary Feature competition at the 2010 Sundance Film Festival, and is making it Canadian Premiere at Hot Docs May 1st.

On to another kind of powerful woman: the one who serves you food. Dish: Women, Waitressing, and the Art Of Service, by Maya Gallus, explores the world of the female-dominated service industry. The full spectrum of the waitressing experience is documented, with the film moving from gritty truck stops to “sexy restos” and even Tokyo maid cafes. Gallus recently won a Gemini Award for Best Direction In A Documentary for her feature-length film, Girl Inside, which premiered at Hot Docs and launched the 2007 season of The View From Here on TVO. Her film Erotica: A Journey Into Female Sexuality premiered at TIFF in 1997 and was nominated for a Genie Award for Best Feature-Length Documentary. This interest in female stories makes me think Dish is going to be less dishy and more dramatic, in that good, involving, I-want-another-plate way.

Now, having served, and danced, and even done some mad combinations of the two (oh, those wild Dublin pub nights), the screening of A Drummer’s Dream intrigues, for its dance-y possibilities. The beat of not food but skins sits at the heart of this NFB work, written, produced, and directed by Canadian John Walker. Drummers who’ve kept the beat for Miles Davis, Dizzy Gillespie, and Carlos Santana share their knowledge with forty students during a week-long retreat in the Canadian wilderness The film features the talents of celebrated drummers Nasyr Abdul Al-Khabyyr, Dennis Chambers, Kenwood Dennard, Horacio “El-Negro” Hernadez, Giovanni Hidalgo, Mike Mangini and Raul Rekow, and looks like big ole’ noisy celebration. I would imagine this is one of those inspiring stories that makes one want to shimmy up the aisle exiting the theatre. Or start banging on pint glasses with a spoon.

Lots more Hot Docs coverage in the weeks leading up to the fest’s kick off on April 29th. Stay tuned. And TIFF? Stop pouting. You have plenty of time to make it up to me before September rolls around. Get busy on that cake.

Radiant

By

On March 1, 2010

In film

I had the opportunity of seeing Tamra Davis’ film about her rather-talented friend recently. Jean-Michel Basquiat is, and remains, one of my all-time favorites.

I’ve written about Basquiat in the past, especially in relation to his part-Haitian background, as I feel that’s an important part of understanding and appreciating his work. But Davis’ film, with its combination of interviews, old footage, music, and visual effects, added much to my appreciation. The balance between the epic and the intimate was achieved with a light, loving touch; footage of her interview with Basquiat sang and shimmered in beautiful harmony with other footage that documented his meteoric rise in the bitchy New York art world of the 1980s. I loved the way she coordinated shots of his art with his bebop (his favourite music), a technique that vividly reflected the kind of energy that so exuberantly exists in all his work. Her interviewees (including Fab Freddy, Kenny Scharf, and Tony Shafrazi, among many others) all offer a unique insight into Basquiat’s special brand of genius.

In watching Radiant Child, I was also struck by the creative possibilities extant in New York in the early 1980s; rent was cheap and art -of all styles -was everywhere. Young people wanted to explore their contributions to the cultural diaspora (though they’d argue they were just as much out for a good time and a hot meal). Cable access shows, indie radio, zines, graffiti, DIY bands… NYC was an incredible cultural stew of punk, rap, dance, and industrial. Everything’s changed since, of course, but as Radiant Child wrapped up, I couldn’t help but think of what Basquiat, a great cultural explorer, would make of the digital revolution. Reinvention, reinterpretation, cultural appropriation, intellectual piracy: what would Jean-Michel say? How would he react? How much would he take/borrow/steal in order to create? How would the ease of digital technologies influence his output? or indeed, his input, his perceptions of the world around him?

I thought about this in reading previews of Piracy: The Intellectual Property Wars From Gutenberg to Gates (University of Chicago Press), Adrian John‘s latest book. To quote the University of Chicago Press’s description, the book “ultimately argues that piracy has always stood at the center of our attempts to reconcile creativity and commerce—and that piracy has been an engine of social, technological, and intellectual innovations as often as it has been their adversary.”

The term “piracy” with its pseudo-romantic (if seriously flawed) notions, can be just as potently ascribed to the world of visual art as to other cultural artforms. Think of the Emergency Broadcast Network, who made video work patched together from a sea of other, seemingly-unrelated clips. In Radiant Child, Davis draw clear lines between Basquiat and his influences -literally, by showing the original inspiration (say, something by Picasso) and Basquiat’s interpretation. How would he respond to the copyright claims brought about via the digital revolution?

It’s a question worth pondering as one considers the genius on display on Davis’ work, and the various threads used to weave beauty in any age. Artists are cannibals, it’s true, and often the best creations are in fact re-creations. It’s the individual artist -mixmaster, curator, interpreter -who takes the clay forms of the past and moulds them into something meaningful -for themselves and others -in the present. When it come to the greatness that touches some artists like Basquiat, they created, re-created, and inspired for their time, and forever, and their works live on, on the canvas, and online. Radiant indeed.

Singular

By

On February 21, 2010

In film

“You go into a bit of a vortex and then you hear the words, ‘Jeff Bridges‘… “

That’s Colin Firth talking about what goes through his mind this awards season.

The British actor didn’t have to worry about Bridges tonight, though; he won Best Actor at the BAFTA Awards for his stunning performance in A Single Man.

I saw Tom Ford‘s film (based on a work by Christopher Isherwood) just this afternoon, and I am not sure I can properly articulate its beauty in any meaningful way. The film revolves around George Falconer, a professor in 1962 Los Angeles, who has recently lost his partner. Ford features several long, meditative shots of Firth, whether he’s looking for something for breakfast, sitting in his car, sorting through his bank box, or remembering his times spent with Jim (Matthew Goode). George’s life is both bereft of life and hefty with love, as his interactions with his lifelong friend Charlotte (Julianne Moore) and new friend Kenny (Nicholas Hoult) demonstrate. With keen use of colour, a gorgeous sense of framing, and a flair for considered shading, Ford nicely balances the silence and the symphony, both literal and figurative. It’s an immense achievement that silently yet masterfully articulates the life of one man in quietly desperate circumstances.

Along with being a play on ideas of the single and solitary, the film is a meditation on aging. I was especially moved by the lingering close-ups of Firth’s expressive, natural face. No smooth-faced, muscled-up, botoxed Hollywood star, one could see the rough bumps and expression lines a late forty-something man has, and has righteously earned. In no way do those wrinkles detract from Firth’s physical attributes; in fact, they add to his attractiveness. In other words, never mind the Darcys -here’s the real thing. A Single Man gives us an honest portrait of an outsider -talented, articulate, even playful -who feels rejected by a world that deems him undesirable and considers his contributions worthless. This is deeply related to the speech George delivers on fear to a classroom full of pie-eyed students. The relationship between fear and love is profound in any arena, and Ford nicely, effectively explores this connection, using, again, the palette of Firth’s incredible face. Such an achievement is rendered with the deftest of strokes, and the most subtle arrangement of light, colour, shape and shadow balancing with the close, hard facial shots. It’s not hard to identify Ford’s design background here, but his translation of it into a cinematic expression is nothing short of astonishing for its emotional resonance.

Walking amidst a street fair after the film, I was still haunted by the director’s beautiful vision, the actor’s aged face, the silence, the noise, the light and the shadows. Questions around youth, age, beauty, and love, and one’s perceived “worthiness” of each whispered about like midnight waves lapping at cold toes. Some things are, perhaps, best left unanswered, but the shining faces on the street -of young and old alike -enjoying the sunny day, and the simple joy of living, was a fitting counterpart, and a beautiful reminder of the very things Isherwood wrote of. Viva love. Viva life.

 

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