Once (Review)

Most of the films I’ve reviewed so far in this space have been either movies I’d already seen and wanted to enjoy again, or famous titles I couldn’t watch at the cinema at the time of their release. Since I am a member of Love Film, a UK-based DVD rental company, I take full advantage of their vast and eclectic collection and Sunday nights have become for my wife and me our weekly rendezvous with the world of cinemascope.

Occasionally, though, I choose randomly a movie I’ve never heard of. The motivation can based on the DVD’s cover design, or the synopsis, or the genre in which it is included, whatever the reason is, the process is totally unpremeditated and the result is often satisfactory. That was the case with ‘Once’, an Irish film.

This modern-day musical tells the story of a busker on the streets of Dublin, Ireland. One day, a Czech girl stops to listen to him and, impressed by the emotional frankness of his compositions, tries to find out more about his music and what spurs him to write it. It turns out the street performer (at no point is he or the woman given names) helps his dad repair vacuum cleaners, though his heart is set on becoming a recording musician. By happenstance the Czech’s Hoover is faulty and this gives her the perfect excuse to create a bond with the busker. She also has a musical background of her own; she plays the piano and writes songs. Romance blossoms but dangers lie ahead. The Irish lad is attempting to recover from a break-up with his long-term girlfriend who’s upped sticks and moved to London. For the Czech woman the situation is even more complicated; she is raising a young daughter in Ireland and her husband is trying to join them both.

‘Once’ is one of those movies that leaves the viewer with a spring in their step. Told through the power of music, it unites two people whose personal circumstances are poles apart. The man still lives at home with his father and although he finds it hard to make ends meet, his situation is very different from the Czech woman. She is an immigrant, doing odd jobs here and there (at one point she works as a florist), living at home with her mother and daughter, in a squalid flat where there’s no telephone and everyone has to share one bedroom. Every evening a group of lads come down to her apartment to watch telly since hers is the only one in the building. Money is tight, not to say almost non-existent. Yet, she doesn’t let this situation bring her down. She usually sports a wide grin on her face and becomes the driving force in the busker’s musical enterprise. It’s thanks to her efforts that the musician puts a demo together in the hope of getting a contract.

The script is excellent. I loved its nuances and subtleties. In a move that I imagine might have been a bit awkward with the film’s backers, the writer/director John Carney refuses to let the romance follow its natural course. And to me that’s one of the reasons why ‘Once’ pull its weight way above the current crop of Jennifer Anistonesque rom-coms: the movie is unpredictable. What the director gives us instead is the power of friendship, the gradations of love. In this endeavour he is helped by the superb performances of both Glen Hansard, frontman of the band ‘Frames’ (coincidentally the director John Carney used to play bass in the same group), in the busker’s role and Markéta Irglová as the Czech woman. The latter, especially, displays such a natural, organic thespian knack that it’s hard to believe she was only nineteen when the movie was released. Script and acting are supported throughout the film by a great soundtrack where tracks ‘Falling Slowly’ and ‘The Hill’ blend magnificently with the grey Dublin landscape.

In the end the busker shoots off to London in an attempt to re-build his life with his ex-girlfriend. Meanwhile the Czech woman has just received news from her husband that he will finally be joining her and their daughter soon. The final shot is an ode to hope, love and above all friendship.

Copyright 2010



Next Post: 'Living in a Bilingual World', to be published on Thursday 6th May at 11:59pm (GMT)

Sunday Mornings: Coffee, Reflections and Music

I don’t often pay attention to political slogans. Sloganeering was almost a way of life in Cuba when I was growing up and it still is, so, in a way I have become inured to the standard big billboard bellowing platitudinous political messages.

However the caption ‘1Malaysia’ rings true even before you set a foot on Kuala Lumpur. Mixed with the western tourists escaping the still chilly spring days, plenty of Malays were on board of the Air Asia flight that took my family and me to KL recently. The various tonalities of their skins, their facial features and their accents hinted at diversity. Having been to that Southeastern nation before in 2008, I wasn’t surprised of this element but still it was a good reminder of what’s made Malaysia a success story in latter years.

I wouldn’t be doing KL any justice if I attempted to sum up its charms in a few hundred words. My only advice is, get on a plane and visit it. The experience of mixing with the locals, riding on the public transport and enjoying its out-of-this-world.cuisine is unique beyond description.

Whether you go to a local joint like Suzi’s Corner, where Malay, Indian and Chinese dishes are served in a mirthful atmosphere or you nip out for a quick lunch at one of the many ‘chicken and rice’ restaurants that populate the corners of KL, you’re in for a treat. As long as you’re not a fussy eater, like yours truly. My first discovery this time around came the day after we arrived when we went to the aforementioned Suzi’s and I had lychee juice. This fruit has a large single seed with an edible aril. After gulping down my juice I kept nibbling at the flesh (the staff usually leave the actual fruit at the bottom of the glass), turning the sweet, jellylike pulp around my mouth and milking it for all it was worth. Needless to say lychee juice became an accompaniment in many meals out.

Whereas two years ago we spent four or five days in Redang, an island to the east of Malaysia, this time we stayed in KL the whole time. That was partly due to the civil unrest in Thailand, a country included in our itinerary. However, rather than allowing ourselves to be browbeaten by a situation that was out of our reach, we decided to spend more time walking the city and admiring its culture and history. Yet, as parents of younger children will know, what interests adults, hardly ever holds any special significance to a member of the younger generation. So, in order to take advantage of Malaysia's rich heritage we also had to include visits to the Aquarium and the Watersports Park.

Still, we had plenty of fun in the city of the ‘muddy confluence’. That’s the meaning of Kuala Lumpur’s name and as if it was trying to prove that point on the same day that we visited the Thean Hou Temple – a building that boasts the richest features of Chinese architecture in Malaysia, according to its brochure - KL also gave us a call to prayer in a nearby mosque in one of the most beautiful voices I’ve ever heard (in fact, the man who intoned the prayer could have given the contestants of American Idol a run for their money). Just the day before, we had gone to Brickfields, a stronghold of Indian culture, which was a short walk from KL Sentral station. Whether this cultural assemblage was swampy, I don’t know, but to a person with an inquisitive nature like me, it helped me understand better the country’s ethos, 1Malaysia.

To me markets are one of the ways of measuring a city’s beating pulse. And KL never disappoints. Whether it is a local – mainly Chinese – fruit'n'veg one like the one in Yulik, or a crafts one like the more famous Central Market, the visitor will be exposed to a wide variety of products that cater to all tastes. In Central Market’s case, this is a building that could be considered to be the equivalent of Covent Garden in London, but with lower prices. The stalls combine antiques, beautiful, hand-made local products and the usual stuff for tourists that exists in any major city.

The road infrastructure is pretty good (plenty of A-roads and flyovers that circumnavigate the city), so, moving from place to place is not that difficult. At first the sight of motorcyclists wearing their jackets back to front was puzzling, until my brother-in-law’s wife explained to me that they do it because of the dust. It’s nice to know that human beings always come up with effective solutions to turn up looking nice at work. The little experience I had with the train network was satisfactory with the staff always willing to help.

Going back to the Malaysian cuisine, I suffered a major casualty because of it. On the day we were due to return, I received a resignation letter from my nose. In it my organ of smell informed me that it’d sooner stay amongst the fragrances of spices such as turmeric, chilli and sambal than return to the vapours emanating from the factories near my house in London. Fair enough, I could see its point. My nose also had made new friends whose names betrayed the pungent roots on which much cooking in Malaysia was based: galangal and ginger. So, now, I am the Cuban in London With a Prosthetic Nose. My only hope is that I can do a Nicole Kidman and take an Oscar home with me.

For some reason I kept thinking of Cuba whenever I was downtown or in a working class area. The buildings, the people and the roads, they reminded me of my country of birth. Even the architecture was similar. Some of the edifices reminded of the famous ‘cajitas de fósforos’ (boxes of matches) that were the butt of many jokes amongst people of my age. These were Soviet-style buildings that appeared in the Cuban landscape at the tail end of the 70s and the beginning of the 80s. In KL, I saw a few. Some other areas were the total opposite. For instance, Bangsar is an affluent neighbourhood with gated houses and guarded blocks of flats.


‘I wasn’t looking for anyone, and yet I saw you’. That line was part of a song I posted a few weeks ago. The melody was written by the Argentinian pop and rock singer, Fito Páez, and on that occasion, I uploaded a version by the Brazilian performer Caetano Veloso. The refrain came to me again in Malaysia because I wasn’t looking for music and yet I came across one of the more refreshing and vibrant voices I’ve heard in recent months. Zee Avi is a Malay singer whose debut album has been playing on my stereo almost everyday since I returned from KL. A review of the album will follow soon but in the meantime I shall leave you with this charming and beautiful song. Have a great week.

(all photos by the blog author)

Copyright 2010



Next Post: 'Once' (Review), to be published on Tuesday 4th May at 11:59pm (GMT)