At least it was not Catwoman

Oh ho, at last after a long stretch of stagnance, we return with a flourish!  And by a ‘flourish,’ I do mean with a supper of sandwiches, tea and films full to bursting with top hats.

Firstly, a map of supper;

Blackberry Applesauce and asparagus for appetiser

Butternut squash sandwiches on whole grain bread (which I toasted a bit too much) and mini potato wedges (which I perhaps did not toast enough) as the main course.   The ingredients in the sandwiches are as follows;

- Raw spinach leaves
- Red bell pepper slices
- Fakin’ Bacon
- Caramelised onion
- Butternut squash sauteed in olive oil (I prefer it grilled, but no grill was available)
- Honey mustard sauce (though, in the interest of my being a vegan, I substituted honey with agave nectar)

Lavendar-rosewater shortbread for dessert

Tonight, we watched two films: Vidocq and Nicholas Nickleby.

The first is a film that metronomes back and forth between intense and hokey.  It’s a rather gritty thriller,  sprinkled with gore and, rather unfortunately, enough silly over-dramatic acting to kill a horse.   With all of that said, I like it because DANG, does it make me want to paaaaaiiiiiint.

. . . but, I shall keep this particular review short because, honestly, I’d love to hear (read) you rip into this meaux-faux, Celine.  And I just know you want to ^_-

So!  Onto the second film of the night.   In an odd paradox, Douglas McGrath’s Emma put me off period films, and years later, Douglas McGrath’s Nicholas Nickleby rekindled the interest.   It’s a quaint little slice of Charles Dickens’ oeuvre which is frequently overlooked in favour of its predecessor, Great Expectations, but I have to say, it is my very favourite.

Firstly, let me begin by saying that the cast for this film could not be more top-notch.  Everyone looks the part, sounds the part and is coated to perfection in that particular schmaltz which is so pungently Dickens.  Jamie Bell, who was so graceful and snippy in Billy Elliot is equally affecting as a downtrodden crippled boy in this film.  Timothy Spall, usually cast in bumbling and/or villainous roles, makes for a darling half of the jolly, ginger Cheeryble twins.  Of course, Christopher Plummer is brilliant as always, and Nathan Lane . . . well, if anyone is to be riding round Victorian England with a flourescent pink pony, it would only be him.  Aaaand, it’s always fun to see Kevin MacDonald, Dame Edna and Alan Cumming.

The characters themselves  are cookie-cutter archetypes, but I think that sort of classical cast adds to the charm of it.   And whilst we did take the piss out of Nick for being so swift to bawl his pretty blue eyes out, I kind of like that about him.  Yes, he’s a hero, but he’s not got a stiff upper lip by any means.  It does not apply solely to crying, either.  Our man Nicholas is not slow to emote, for good or for ill.  If someone sets him off, they get thrashed into the floor by a cane/whip/whatever else that is blunt and on hand.   I rather like that, myself.  He’s only human, and it makes him more accessible.

I have to say, though, that the film is shot and set ingeniously.   The colour theory alone is a story in and of itself in its progession throughout the film, but if I get into that, we shall be here all night.   Besides which, it is all geek waffle and I do not wish to bore the socks off of anyone reading.

AND SO, I DIGRESS.  Have some pictures.

And because the bromance of Nick and Smike is about as subtle as hard poke in the eye, I shall share one of my fanarts of them, here;

. . . Because yer, that’s the last of the art I shall be doing for them.  Really.  Pinky swear.

And now, tonight’s tea review;

HARRISON AND CROSFIELD’S SCOTTISH BREAKFAST

If there is a word I could use to describe this tea, it would be ‘robust’.  It’s a black tea not unlike English breakfast with a slightly smokey flavour.   There is something else to it, though I can’t quite put my finger on it, which lends the overall taste a bit of an echo, almost like mint.  It’s a heavy, hearty drink, so rich that it almost has a texture to it.  I have to imbibe it very sparingly as it is heavily caffeinated, but the flavour alone will give you a jolt upon first sip.  It takes some getting used to, but makes for a bracing brew, indeed.

And that is all!  Heather, Celine, if you have anything to add, I should love to read your own thoughts.

Until next time, fellow Gents!

Laissez les gens mangent de gateau!

The last post pretty much summed up our last venture, Marie Antoinette.  I have nothing to add save that watching this film is rather like eating a sixteen-pound cheesecake;  Delicious, but undeniably nauseating.   Even though sitting through it is slightly more fun than reading Joseph Conrad, there’s no denying it’s a gorgeous film to look at.  I like to have it on whilst I’m painting.   It seems to encourage yummy, rococo colours and lush brushwork, which aids in the general digestion of the film.

It helps to be able to watch it alongside fellow, snarky period-film buffs. ^_^

Now then, I have had a request for my miso soup recipe.   I’m glad you enjoyed it!  here be said recipe:

FALA’S UNCHARACTERISTICALLY HEARTY MISO SOUP:

A tub of Westbrae Natural Organic White Mellow Miso paste

Water or veggie stock (depending upon how strong you like the flavour to be)

Sea vegetable (nori or cleaned/presoaked wakame if you have it)

Lots of tofu, cubed

Lots of scallions, chopped

Lots of shiitake mushrooms, sliced

Bring the water/stock to a boil.  Water will really mellow the flavour of the broth, whilst veggie stock will make it super-rich.  If you want to toe the line betwixt the two, I like to boil celery in the water till it has become transparent (at least half an hour).  Remove celery.   Add the paste to taste (hurr hurr, rhyme).   Bung the rest of the lot in, however much or little you want.   that’s really all there is to it, I’m afraid.   As a last parting tip, however, I like to add the mushrooms first so that they can boil for a bit and add further flavour to the base.  I don’t add the scallions until I turn off the heat (and in my personal opinion, there is no such thing as too much scallion-age in miso ^_-).

And now, another tea review;

Yogi Cold Season

This tea claims to support respiratory health.   I’m not entirely sure if it does, but I definitely enjoy its not-quite-licorice, not-quite-mint flavour.  The taste is complex, but not overly strong.   You don’t have to be ailing to enjoy the notes of eucalyptus, lemongrass and cardamom.  Among others . . . This tea seriously has about eighteen ingredients, yet they manage to comingle exquisitely.  Now, I have not been badly ill since I started my diet, but I did wake up this morning with a slightly sore throat.   I must say, this cuppa was quite welcome as both a remedy and a treat.

And lastly, I wanted to start up a running list of the films we are planning to watch at some point.

Vatel

Vidocq

Nicholas Nickleby

Total Eclipse

Wilde

. . . Those are the ones from my collection, anyway.  As I recall, The Dutchess is also on the list, along with ‘a screamy German film’ (Der Untergang, is it?).  We’ll keep the list updated in future entries, shall we?

Other ideas? That sounds like enemy talk to me.

 

Hmm. Okay. Sofia Coppola.

I’m having trouble gathering my thoughts to precisely state what I found wrong with Marie Antoinette, but a good summary would be that it’s solely on this planet to make you feel what it’s like to have every tooth in your head riddled with cavities without eating a gram of sugar. And to make you feel something, I suppose, resembling pity for the rich. Shitting all over your political system because you become so caught up in cyclical social restrictions is quite pitiable. Would you feel merciful enough to shove the sad, sad heads of your leaders under a giant weighted blade to relieve them of this aching responsibility? Probably. In fact, several sources tell me that the people of France actually did. Why this had to be exempt from the movie, well. I like to think she ran out of film.

However, Coppola suggests that her highly-modernized version of the story is to give the nobility some humanity, because yes it would be fucking terrible if you were to blame for not being able to actually consummate your marriage and being a woman in the 18th century is a horrible job. But when you selectively show gratuitous montages of all the glorious candy-coated swallow’s tongues they get to eat, and the baby seal marshmallow shoes they get to slip their feet in, and exactly how many families of trained circus mice that are working their poor little hearts to put on a show in a four foot tall wig made of the hair of hundreds of orphaned cancer-babies, excluding all politics and THE ONE THING that would have brought the royalty back down to earth, SERIOUSLY. I’ve heard that because of this movie several people are still of the mind that Marie managed to escape the revolt and the guillotine and is probably still living happily in a highly undisclosed portion of Switzerland.

Fuck it, Coppola. You would have been better off directing things like this.

Oh, and we’re back to meeting, finally! DO YOU HEAR ME, WEATHER, WE’RE BACK. Fala made his wonderful and incredibly rich miso soup (which I’d love the recipe for, if you could post it!) and suuuuushiiiiiiiii sadkfljlkja good. Unfortunately I forgot to bring the tea I ordered from teavana, which smells like every cake in the world, all at once and in your face, but thankfully tastes like mildly inoffensive tea. (Though it just occurred to me; the earl grey that I got, which goes against my every instinct when it comes to drinkable liquids, has vanilla bits in it. Possibly not Fala-safe?)

Tres tres Dangereuse

Wrrrell, it is high time I posted in this thing.  Und so, here we go.

Firstly, I would like to send out a fond and frolicking middle finger to the weather.  Thanks ever so, snow, for obliterating our past few meetings.

Secondly, as I have neglected to post about our previous meetings, here are the recipes for the samosas and curry I served up at our last meet, seven frillion years ago;

Samosas: http://video.about.com/indianfood/Vegetarian-Samosas.htm

Curry: http://www.sandisrecipecorner.com/recipe1808B.htm

The curry, obviously, was adjusted significantly.  I used chickenless chicken instead of lamb, for one, and Earth Balance instead of butter.  Also, I did have photos, alas, I take a right shoddy photo to begin with, and photographs of curry never look remotely appetising besides.

So, what can I say about Valmont? Well, aside from the fact that we watched it at our last meeting, obviously.  Hmm, well, a grand and overarching statement would be that it was quite possibly one of the more disturbing films one could watch.  This, mind, is coming from the person who happily sat through every single Saw film.   Now, clearly, I am comparing an obvious apple to an even more grossly obvious orange, but I think that the reason that this came to mind is because the two stories do share an element of sadisitic plotting.   I think that this is the part that I find so very unsettling about either film (more so than the gore in the latter), that people can plot against one another in such a cruel way and make light of their suffering so easily.  The key difference, I think, is that unlike Saw, which ties itself up neatly at the end, Valmont’s story does not really have that element of closure.  Nobody is happy (or even satisfied) as the film reaches finality, and we, as the audience, are left thinking, “Well . . . shit.  What now?”  This is especially true if you are aware of how the source text, “Les Liaisons Dangereuse” ends, as Celine was kind enough to inform me.   It just doesn’t look particularly good for anyone involved.  Celine mentioned that French works such as these have in common the ideology that innocence is a way of of asking for trouble, and that the naive deserve what they get.   Perhaps it is this sort of unsatisfactory attitude and ending that makes this story stick in one’s mind, and sets it apart from most other stories (for better or for worse).

But let’s see . . . Colin Firth, usually about as dull as a dullard trying to dull a pointed stick by telling it dull anecdotes about his young days as a lacklustre bank accountant in Dullsville, is actually quite enjoyable to watch, in this.  Young Fairuza Balk is also quite efficient in her rather tragic role, as is  . . . er, the woman who played her viciously sadistic relative . . . Gah, just drove two and a half hours on the freeway.  Too lazy to go to IMDB.  But yes, What’sherface is probably the most memorable out of the cast, simply because she is so despicable.   And the costumes and sets were deliciously period, which is, after all, the point, here.

So yes, those are my admittedly rusty thoughts on Valmont.  I really and truly hope we can meet again soon.  And yes, I am glaring like a bastard scorned at the sky in general as I type this.

AND LASTLY, a tea review;

Trader Joe’s Pomegranate White Tea

White tea is my favourite tea anyway, and this one adds Brilliant to Already Brilliant.   As if more antioxidants than green tea and a versatile, mild flavour that compliments everything wasn’t enough, Trader Joe’s adds the sweet tang of pomegranate.  It’s fruity, but gently so, and not strong or sour as other pomegranate teas tend to be (provided you don’t oversteep it, obviously).   It also doubles the antioxidant factor, making it probably the healthiest tea you can drink.  And such a pretty, red colour!

Semi-sweet, super-healthy and gorgeous to look at as well as to sip, Trader Joe’s Pomegranate White Tea is a winner every time, as far as I’m concerned.

Klaus “Krazycakes” Kinski and Aguirre, The Wrath of God.

Okay, I admit. I’m on a big Kinski binge this week, since seeing Nosferatu in class on thursday. Germans! We’re on an impromptu theme here.

Aguirre is predominantly about the horrible things Conquistadors do to everything they come in contact with, but from what I gather, it’s also a subtle play on recording every ounce of tantrum and outburst that Kinski is capable of projecting toward Werner Herzog. Evidently Kinski’s autobiography is largely fictional, and the two got along fairly well but upped the rage for the sake of advertising.

Still.

Not pictured: hugs.

Monkey toss!

A review will be in order, if and after we watch it. Also, if you haven’t seen Nosferatu yet, go. Go now. Report back.

Der Untergang. Because Hitler wasn’t scary enough in film stills.

Kids today, with their poodle skirts and their soder pop and scarred up political avengers performed by Brad Pitt. Times have changed when you can’t go into a nazi film expecting roughly 65% historical accuracy. Thankfully I was distracted from how much Hitler did not die in a theater by the squareness of said actor’s jaw.

Der Untergang is a movie that haunted me for a solid month from accuracy alone. Following the last week of Hitler’s life, it displays some of the more jarring scenes recorded in history and actors quite similar to their historical counterparts. Bruno Ganz portrays Hitler. I saw the movie knowing nothing of what he looked like or how he was deciding to equalize Hitler’s character, but there he is. Walking, flailing, medal-giving, and doing it in such an eerily natural way that brings memories I don’t even have of World War II straight to the front of my brain.

It’s creepy, is what I’m saying.

So. Should you ever want another level of insight into the last days of Nazi- Germany, this is certainly worth it.

And because I don’t really want the first post to be exclusively about nazi-flicks, just wanted you to know that I bought a cranberry-walnut tart yesterday and until Friday arrives I’ll be crying every time I pass through the kitchen because it looks like the tart to end all tarts. This is the tart that was set against the day’s factory tart quota and came out of the Colosseum alive. We should be using it to breed better tarts, but I’m willing to forsake the future populations for the Gents. It’ll be like eating a silverback, I promise.

Ours is better.

Hello oblivion!

Pass the damn cookies.