Scriffles: Handel's Messiah. Calm 2010 please.

Day in, day out, I listen to the woman next door screaming at her eldest son. 

"Kyle! Kyle! Kyle! Kyle! Kyle!"  -  Always Kyle!
Not only the mother but his little siblings do the same as the mother: "Kyle, Kyle, Kyle!"
Now, Kyle may not be an angel - I don't know! I steer clear of them.
Though I feel so sorry for Kyle.
I'm guessing that it's not Kyle's fault 50pc of the time.

"It wasn't me!"
"You liar!"
"No you're lying!"
The squabbles of children unfold exactly like the squabbles of adults which means that we aren't really grown up at all.

Old childhood feelings of resentment ...
Old reinforced thoughts and feelings from childhood never die ... 
If you grow then you learn to change your behaviour, to hold your tongue, to be more patient ( or not, if you remain a child ) and not lash out in the heat of the moment  ( or not ).
First thoughts, first feelings. Those little child feelings all bubble up when someone, somewhere pitches that particular note right on key. 
And families tend to know how to hit those notes.
Parents do the best they can - and it's the intention that counts. 
And really Peace is the result of learning to treat people we disagree with in a manner we want to be treated - that includes children, and overseas students.

I bought several old albums at a country bookstore a few days before Christmas. One was a three album set of Handel's Messiah.
I'm not a big classical music fan but I love Handel's Messiah. 
I decided to listen to it one Easter night when it was performed on TV and I was ironing or sewing or doing something in that little room at the top of the stairs on the old farm. 
The albums are in their original white leather box. It contains images of Christ, woodcuts by Albrecht Durer. 
"The German 16th century painter engraver who was perhaps the greatest print maker in the world..." says the accompanying booklet.

Handel completed the score of Messiah in three weeks.
He collapsed into bed with one chorus unfinished. He was exhausted and slept for 17 hours. They fetched a doctor. 
When the doctor arrived he found Handel all excited after eating half a ham and drinking four pints of beer.
Handel sang the doctor the final chorus...
"You must be possessed of the devil," the doctor said.
"I think rather that God has visited me..." Handel replied in a whisper.
He gave all the proceeds of the first performance to charity. 
That 1742 performance in Dublin was a sensation.
Handel died aged 74, in 1759, on the anniversary of that first performance.
Good Friday. He refused to die before that day came.

Lifting the needle onto the spinning turntable takes me back to when I was a kid and I used to play the few albums my parents owned.
I loved to learn songs and copy Shirley Bassey or Nana Mouskouri ... never thought about it before but that's a strange combo.

On New Year's Eve I found myself screaming at my mother.

I was babysitting my niece and nephew. I'd invited my mother over for tacos and ice-cream cake. She brought her dog. She started leaving after such a pleasant evening.
Everyone knows that her dog loses it every time someone starts to leave - and she was leaving and ignoring my repeated request to use the front door and take the dog out the side gate.
Her dog growls, my dog screams and screams again. She comes running in bleeding everywhere. 
Her eye and throat are ripped open.
I pick her up and start screaming: "She's blind! She's blind!" The dog's screaming. In the background my niece and nephew are screaming. 
My mother is standing at the door silent.
I scream one word: "Go!"

So now I'm listening the Messiah. Every four hours I put a drop of antibiotic in Meg's eye. 
Every six hours I put a drop of eye lubricant in her eye. And pain killers go in her food daily.
She's wears an Elizabethan collar to stop her from bumping or scratching the eye. 
Funny how calm this music makes you.
What would happen if they played Messiah during peace negotiations between Israel and Palestine?
¡•.•¡

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Scriffles: Avatar review.

Avatar's still packing them in. Full house morning session on Saturday a month after opening. It's high-end entertainment so maybe it's not so amazing that even the "attention-deficit" generation is able to get through three hours. The first time I saw it was in a tiny regional cinema - even without surround sound and 3-D it blew me away.

But it's a completely different experience with the full treatment - you'd need a much bigger screen for it to be a submersive experience.  Official Avatar Website

Avatar is the ultimate bush walk - James Cameron lets you breath Pandora in as the army grunt turns into a bleeding heart "greenie" because he falls in love with a native girl and her world.

Sully is the first warrior the "Sky People" have sent to the Na'vi world - he's a ring-in for his murdered identical twin brother.
He can fly the Avatar because twins have identical DNA.

The Na'vi are a warrior civilization  -  so Sully picks the right job description when they ask what he does. 
They have only met scientists until now - scientists run the Avatar program to study the planet and its people.
They use human and Na'vi DNA to create living-breathing Avatars which have nervous systems matched to their human pair.
When the Avatar sleeps the human returns to the real world and awakens lying in the green gel of a coffin-like contraption.

Little questionable conceits are easily swallowed because there's no lag in the story that allows for questions.

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Sully is put to the test by both sides - Sam Worthington is great but he does make an ugly Na'vi.
Is there a cowboy movie where the leading man joined the Indians?

This cowboy - who starts off with an American twang - doesn't end up talking in an "Indian" accent.
He makes the big "me warrior"/ "This is our land" speech in an Australian accent. I quite like that.
Touched my heart to see an Australian on Pandora  ;)
I just wonder whether Worthington meant to do that and whether James Cameron (master of detail) noticed.
Cameron not only wrote and directed - he co-edited as well. 
The personal hell Sully goes through shows in the expressions on the Avatar's face - his face changes as he becomes one of "The People".

Cameron is God of this world - nothing is less than it should be.
The only problem I had was thinking of Sigourney Weaver as Ripley instead of as Dr Grace Augustine - the big robot suits from Aliens didn't help.
He used an old idea and sold it off as a novelty reference. Post-Modernism lives.
It's as exhilarating as a wild fun park ride all done to a traditional American blockbuster script - it's "only" the special effects that make it different, that make it extraordinary.

Cruelty juxtaposed with beauty, awareness butted against ignorance makes it a "potent mix". 
But James Cameron draws a black and white moral universe - despite all the beautiful fluorescent colours of Pandora.
It's a magnificent environmental statement. 
Proof of absolute mastery - outstanding Mr Cameron.

Steven Lang does have the "best" fun playing that over-the-top evil military macho man who is a derivative of every menacing megalomanic you've loved to hate - Colonel Miles Quaritch. 
There are great lines - like when Sully has to pick his banshee ("outstanding") or when Dr Augustine finally sees the sacred tree.
And the last moment is perfect - so just when is the sequel out?

Scriffles: To Have Done With God by Frank Productions. Physical Theatre Company from Brisbane.

Dance choreographer and theatre director Jacqui Carroll let me film a rehearsal of Frank Productions' work-in-progress To Have Done With The Judgement of God. It's alternative theatre based on a form out of Japan called The Suzuki Method. Very dramatic. Jacqui and husband, actor/dancer John Nobbs, have been adapting the classics for many years and now have quite a repertoire for their ensemble. The creator of the method Tadashi Suzuki has invited Jacqui to create a piece for his annual festival held in his home town of Toga - quite an honour.
This is hard core training. I've attempted it once. It's designed to bond the body, spirit and voice. This is their first all-male piece.

 

To Have Done With The Judgement of God is a radio play by a French "madman, philosopher, playwright" named Antonin Artaud - John plays Artaud in this piece.

This Frenchman was way ahead of his time - he attacked America as a "baby factory war-mongering machine". The radio station which commissioned him to write it pulled it at the last minute and the censorship raised the hackles of other artists such as film director Jean Cocteau. God is found to be an organ pulled out a corpse on the autopsy table.

BTW: it was a hand-held shoot of a few hours.

Scriffles: Meggy May's purple eye stitch is coming out! (Gory photo!)

Meggy May's New Year's Eve injury seems to have healed well. Her little brown eye turned a bright red - filled with blood. It wasn't pretty the day after. The emergency vet doctor told me she might lose her eye. Her purple eye stitch comes out tomorrow. Her throat stitches came out last week. The swelling's gone. Hopefully she can still see out of her injured eye. She sent a video message to two of her biggest fans - my niece and nephew who witnessed her trauma - to let them know she's doing fine. She still squints like a little pirate - but that's my Meg all over.

Scriffles: Mort's motto. A man made it, I can fix it. Driveway service too.

In the coastal rural district of Gladstone is a little service station with driveway service. I haven't seen driveway service since my father sold his little service station way, way long ago. And Mort doesn't even call it a service station, he calls it an "auto-port". I took photos because service with a smile is so rare - let alone driveway service!
We stopped to fill up on the journey home from Pearl Beach after Christmas.
The old highway runs all the way along the river - it's cattle country nestled in National Parks which are adjacent to surfing spots like Crescent Head.
This road runs straight through green grazing land. Open the car door and the smell of cow dung wafts in as well as annoying tiny flies.

It's like that scene out of Lost in Space where Dr Smith sees a gorgeous alien girl singing outside the space ship (here it's the gorgeous view begging to be photographed).
Dr Smith opens the door for the alien girl and she drinks all their fuel - "Woe is me!".
The flies are definitely a downside of this Garden of Eden. But you'd never know from a pretty photo.

I've been thinking about packaging lately.
I've been thinking about what people look like and how "life" packages us - as opposed to how we try to package ourselves.
No money. No teeth. Do you ever see young people with toothless grins?
No money, no dentist, no teeth, no teeth, no job - no money, no health.
Once upon a time I'd think something along the lines of: "Disgusting! They don't take care of themselves properly."
That's what teachers, employers, strangers think ... so how do they make friends?
We're always comparing our packaging.

I open my eyes Christmas Eve morning and my eight-year-old niece hops up and peers into my eyes and tells me: "Your eyes are like slits and your nose looks like a mushroom."
"Really?" I reply annoyed and half asleep and feeling like I was back in Grade Eight when girls are so-o bitchy (believe me, most of them never grow out of it either!)
I don't have a perfect button nose like the dear one who was addressing me - I'm old and therefore when I laugh my eyes are like slits.
She tells the truth. But she's judging my worth by my packaging.
I'm strong enough to endure this but I worry about how or if she'll learn not to do this.

Every time I do my shopping I have so much packaging to throw away it's annoying.
Strange contradiction this. We throw away the packaging of everything else but LIFE depends on our own packaging.
Packaging is everything - EVERYTHING! Our appearance, our body, our work, our careers, our families, our car... everything except the soul.
The soul is the content of the packaging and some people don't even believe in it.
I don't have the answers I seek but these questions I ask myself as I dress up stories I want people to read; as I think about websites I want to make; as I listen to people go on about "content being king".
I put the coffee into an air-tight jar and throw away the packaging.
I drive into the auto-port and Mort comes out smiling and asks: "How much do you want?"

Throw away the packaging. It's about service. It's about the content. It's about being the real deal.
Be that so that children have something else to measure themselves by.