the films that shape me

I decided to list those films that I believe have shaped my way of feeling, looking, understanding myself and the world around me. They're part of my cerebral DNA. Their images and words are kept inside that miraculous ovaloid box of flesh and blood, and chemical reactions that we call the brain. It hosts the soul, or our idea of one. I must have forgotten so many films that deserved being listed, but the good thing is that I can always return to this post and add a few more. There's no priority in the list, and it will always be under construction. How did this come about? Well, just a walk through my bookcases checking the DVDs and Videos that they contain, and a bit of a game down memory lane too. And anyway, why do we Westerners love writing lists so much?

TORCH SONG TRILOGY BY PAUL BOGART
LA LEY DEL DESEO BY PEDRO ALMODOVAR
QUE HE HECHO YO PARA MERECER ESTO? BY PEDRO ALMODOVAR
LES UNS ET LES AUTRES BY CLAUDE LELOUCH
THE COLOR PURPLE BY STEVEN SPIELBERG
E.T. BY STEVEN SPIELBERG
TU MARCHERAS SUR L'EAU BY EYTAN FOX

THE BLUE LAGOON BY RANDAL KLEISER
PINOCCHIO BY WALT DISNEY
THE 101 DALMATIANS BY WALT DISNEY
MARY POPPINS BY ROBERT STEVENSON
THE WIZARD OF OZ BY VICTOR FLEMING
THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING ERNEST BY ANTHONY ASQUITH
LAST EXIT TO BROOKLYN BY ULI EDEL
FAME BY ALAN PARKER
A STREETCAR NAMED DESIRE BY ELIA KAZAN
CAT ON A HOT TIN ROOF BY RICHARD BROOKS
ZERO PATIENCE BY JOHN GREYSON

LONGTIME COMPANION BY NORMAN RENé

AN EARLY FROST BY JOHN ERMAN
PARTING GLANCES BY BILL SHERWOOD

EDGE OF SEVENTEEN BY DAVID MORETON
THE ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW BY JIM SHARMAN
HEDWIG AND THE ANGRY INCH BY JOHN CAMERON MITCHELL
SOME LIKE IT HOT BY BILLY WILDER
SECRETS AND LIES BY MIKE LEIGH
SHOOTING THE PAST BY STEPHEN POLIAKOFF
SIX DEGREES OF SEPARATION BY FRED SCHEPISI
MY BEAUTIFUL LAUNDRETTE BY STEPHEN FREARS
BLADE RUNNER BY RIDLEY SCOTT
THELMA AND LOUISE BY RIDLEY SCOTT

THE KINGDOM BY LARS VON TRIER
EUROPA BY LARS VON TRIER
LOST HORIZON BY FRANK CAPRA

ARSENIC AND OLD LACE BY FRANK CAPRA

TARNATION BY JONATHAN CAOUETTE
FANNY AND ALEXANDER BY INGMAR BERGMAN
BABETTE'S FEAST BY GABRIEL AXEL
MIDGNIGHT COWBOY BY JOHN SCHLESINGER
THE BOYS IN THE BAND BY WILLIAM FRIEDKIN
THE PIANO BY JANE CAMPION
FARGO BY JOEL AND ETHAN COEN
THE ROPE BY HITCHCOCK
THE BIRDS BY HITCHCOCK
STRANGERS ON A TRAIN BY HITCHCOCK
THOROUGHLY MODERN MILLIE BY GEORGE ROY HILL
BREAKFAST AT TIFFANY'S BY BLAKE EDWARDS
KISS OF THE SPIDER WOMAN BY HECTOR BABENCO
TOOTSIE BY SYDNEY POLLACK
LA CAGE AUX FOLLES BY EDOUARD MOLINARO
BILLY'S HOLLYWOOD SCREEN KISS BY TOMMY O'HAVER
EDUCATING RITA BY LEWIS GILBERT
ANIKI BOBO BY MANOEL DE OLIVEIRA
A CAIXA BY MANOEL DE OLIVEIRA
O PATIO DAS CANTIGAS BY FRANCISCO RIBEIRO
TRÊS IRMAOS BY TERESA VILLAVERDE
UNA GGIORNATA PARTICOLARE BY ETTORE SCOLA
ANGELS IN AMERICA BY MIKE NICHOLS

LOVE! VALOUR! COMPASSION! BY JOE MANTELLO

MAURICE BY JAMES IVORY

ROOM WITH A VIEW BY JAMES IVORY

DEATH IN VENICE BY LUCHINO VISCONTI

QUERELLE BY RAINER WERNER FASSBINDER

THE BITTER TEARS OF PETRA VON KANT BY RAINER WERNER FASSBINDER

ORANGES ARE NOT THE ONLY FRUIT BY BEEBAN KIDRON
THE LIVING END BY GREG ARAKI
FAHRENHEIT 451 BY FRANçOIS TRUFFAUT

...

the first boy I kissed

This morning I woke up thinking of Antônio. He was Brazilian. I was 17. He was 18. We were both doing a year of academic exchange in Belgium with AFS. One night, in Brugges, at another exchange student's house (was it Hege from Norway? At least I still remember she was from Norway), we kissed. I asked him to kiss me. And he did. It felt like sugar, there was something bitter too underneath. My first kiss with a boy. I wonder where Antônio is nowadays. I never really thanked him for that clumsy, long, sweet, warm, sexy kiss in the middle of the night. How he held me tight and tenderly, how he whispered and licked softly in my ear. How he kissed me twice.

teachers-parents conference

We had the Spring teachers-parents conference this morning in Georgie's Montessori school. She is doing very well on the academic side, reading, writing and maths.

She seems to play more with the younger children than with the children from her own class. I wonder why. Lately, Georgie has been talking a lot about having a younger brother or a sister, could that be the reason? I hope she is well liked by the kids in her class. Children can be nasty sometimes when one is a bit different from the rest, there's this kind of "pack mentality" and it starts early. She used to play a lot with another girl named Justina (Polish-American), but lately they seem not to be getting along so well anymore. Oh well, maybe it's just a phase.

The teachers said that Georgie is becoming more autonomous and that she enjoys dancing. I don't see her dancing so much at home, so this was interesting to know.

Georgie needs to become more organised when doing her tasks. Well, she is only 4,5 years old, so no need to worry too much about that, but I guess we can help her a little bit more in that direction.

I wished the teachers had said something about her personality. I think Georgie is so lively, bright, fun, talkative, engaging, friendly. Don't they see that too? Maybe Marcel doesn't, but I bet Mona does too (if only Marcel had let her talk more during the meeting...)

European school

We are more and more inclined to enroll Georgie in the European school already this year. It will allow her to start getting used to the new rhythm and to make friends before her first year in primary class. It will also help her to get a better level of Portuguese. Yes, Jarl and I have decided that this would be the best language section for her. Her vocabulary seems to be a bit wider in Portuguese than in Swedish. Jarl's mother also said that Portuguese is a language with a bigger international projection, which is true. Let us see how Jarl will react when Georgie starts speaking Portuguese most of time... I hope he won't feel left out.

The school looked huge (there are some 3000 pupils), but the nursery section was a bit more secluded with a special playground and entrance. We liked it and we think Georgie will enjoy it and adapt fast to it. We were a bit worried about how the teachers would react to the fact that she has two fathers, but this seemed to go down well.

Of course, as expected, the question about diversity didn't really ring any bells with the deputy-director. It's like she had never heard the word before. But I liked her answer about the school being inclusive, about there being other adopted children from non-European countries, and about their strict policy on bullying. She sounded reassuring.

So, we have filled in the papers and will bring them next week to formalise the inscription. A big step for our family. Our little baby is growing!

majority thinking

I was at a birthday party for one of Georgie's classmates yesterday afternoon. It was very nice. The children were clearly enjoying themselves. There's was even a lady doing face painting just for the occasion. I wished I could join the line and have my face painted the colour of Spring. The cup-cakes were lovely. I tried one before the children ate them all!

The non-whites were my daughter, myself, and a Japanese girl and her dad. We were all middle-class, comfortable in life, good jobs, good income, nice houses, nice cars.

I couldn't help overhearing a conversation between an Italian colleague of mine and one of her American friends. They were talking about diversity. It prickled my ears. The American said that he was "so surprised" that there weren't any black children at the European schools in Brussels. The Italian said that she was not really so worried about it "because being in Brussels made you aware of all kinds of people, just by walking in the street". To which the American retorted, "sure, but how many of your children's friends are black? How many of our friends are black?". To which the Italian responded, "but surely, you don't think that adding 10 blacks to a European school would solve the problem, do you?". To which the American said, "yeah, but shouldn't we put our children in Belgian schools instead, there they would meet so many more kids from a diverse background, and after all we are in Belgium". The Italian then said, "well yes, that's true, but there are other considerations to take into account, I'm not going to choose my school just because it is diverse, there's the language and the academics too".

I suppose my Italian colleague has a point, we are not going to choose schools just because they are diverse in terms of backgrounds and colours, but surely that should also play a role, at least to make the school authorities aware that this is an issue and that it deserves to be looked into.

I joined the conversation at some stage and explained that we were planning to enroll Georgie in the European school of Woluwe, but that we were concerned about it being too white. I explained how important it is for us to feel validated by others who look just like us. And this applied to a variety of identity categories. Women enjoy the presence of other women, and so do men, people of a certain nationality enjoy the presence of other nationals from the same country, and this feeling of "community" applied also to aspects such as skin colour and sexual orientation. Becoming ourselves implies finding in others a mirror where we can also see reflected our experiences and our individuality, even though this sounds like a paradox. What surprised me was that she was surprised by this, that it had never occurred to her because in her world she almost never has to think of herself as different, as the odd one out. She takes it for granted.

One example made her realise what I meant better than anything else. I told her, take your hair for example. You are surrounded here by women whose hair is very similar to yours. When you get together you can exchange tips on what shampoos to use, what kind of care to have, etc. My daughter's hair is different from everyone's in this room. She wouldn't be able to join a conversation like that, because the products that work for your hair for instance wouldn't be the rights ones for her hair. Do you get it? Silence and large eyes. I think she got it!

I also explained to her that living in a diverse town doesn't mean that you are significantly engaged with diverse environments. Seeing lots of non-white people in the street, doesn't mean that you know who they are, how they feel, that you can relate to them and see them as equal. People are not meant to serve as decoration, they are for interaction. Somehow, I feel I didn't make a friend...

O Tal Canal

I watched this evening on DVD, O Tal Canal, that revolutionary comedy programme of early Portuguese TV. The year was 1983, and I was 12 going on 13. No one had ever seen something like that on TV in Portugal. It was hilarious, nonsensical, challenging, a total riot! Could we actually manage to be that funny, so intelligently funny? So modern?

Watching it this evening for the first time after more than 25 years, I realised - with emotion - that Herman José, the creator and main actor of O Tal Canal, was my first teacher in the art of Camp. And that was lifesaving. It brought me a lot of sanity. It was a most needed vehicle to express so much of my own difference, in tragedy and in comedy. Still today, my inspiration for Camp comes from Marilú (the simple servant girl who was a man after all), Filipa from Cozinho para o Povo (the posh female Chef who, still today, brings me down with laughter), Tony Silva (the cheesy super-star of the Americas), and all the other dozens of fantastic characters that he and his team were able to bring to life.

And what would life be like without Camp? High Camp à la portugaise? Oh, life without it would be ever so boring. Goodness gracious!

I don't have a lot of sympathy for the man behind the actor - his personal and political views do not fit with my own - but chapeau to him for all the fresh air, indeed the storm, the tornado, that his comedy acting represented in Portugal throughout the 1980's and still much of the 1990's. You know the caliber of an actor, when so many of the expressions he made popular in his programmes have become part of my generation's own jargon.

With O Tal Canal colour TV became real!

Uganda and anti-gay legislation

I recently read on BBC News that a Ugandan clergyman, Pastor Martin Ssempa (I actually saw him the other day on TV), decided to show gay pornography to his congregation in an attempt to gain support for a proposed law which would see some gay people facing the death penalty. Apparently, some 300 people gathered at his church to watch it, and the audience included children! He wanted people to "learn" what gays actually do.

Why would someone use these radical measures is simply baffling, to say the least. Equating homosexuality with a pornographic rendering of sexual activity is dishonest and mentally sick. Would he portray heterosexuality the same way?

The situation in Uganda is extreme, but it somehow reflects the general position of those who so vehemently repudiate homosexuality. They tend to concentrate on the sex side of it. It makes me wonder if that is all heterosexuals think about when they fall in love, the sex. Maybe it is. Maybe heterosexuals are so obsessed with sex, they project it on everyone else (no, I don't really think this way, I'm just trying to make a point). Sex is often the corollary of being in love and wanting to get emotionally closer to the subject of your affection through physical contact. Sex is a medium, not a goal in itself. Of course, there's sex without love - and there's nothing wrong with that - but this touches all sexual orientations and is not exclusive to gays and lesbians. It sounds obvious, but not to everybody.

I believe the Ugandan pastor in question should in fact be the one condemned for obscenity and moral corruption. I mean, there were children in that church! What does he expect to achieve with this? I know, to create revulsion at what the nasty, monstrous gays get up to in bed. But how can he possibly justify showing pornography to children? I suppose someone like pastor Ssempa does not use logic very often, nor intellectual honesty. Or maybe he's just crazy and abusive. Likely all of these!

Pastor Ssempa may have been playing with fire too. Maybe some of his audience became titillated by what they saw and will try it later in the secrecy of their homes... if they manage to escape their spying neighbours willing to denounce them to the police (the new law, if passed, will make every single Ugandan, including family members, an anti-gay spy, otherwise they too may end up in jail for collusion. They'll have to build a lot of new jails...).

As US President Obama put it, the projected law is "odious", and what is really upsetting is that some US-based evangelical groups are backing it, and supporting people like pastor Ssempa to promote this agenda of hate. Is that what these groups want for the rest of the world, including in the US? Imprisonment and even the death penalty? These people are crazy, but dangerous because so well organised and funded. Watch out! Human rights is really an ongoing battle.

I hope, almost pray, for this law to be defeated, but I fear that it will be passed - with a few changes to keep international donors "happy" (maybe without the death penalty for "aggravated homosexuality", for instance) - but still increasing the punishments for homosexuals in Uganda and basically rendering their lives even more nightmarish than they already are. They really need a merciful god to help them. It's a pity god is always looking the other way when these things happen (I'm an atheist, thus I only believe in human mercy).

Pastor Ssempa's desperate tactics seem to indicate that he is close to a nervous breakdown (or he has already had one). The man needs psychological treatment soon. Hatred of this kind usually indicates a sick mental state.