Alan Johnston: 100 days missing

Lebanon (bis repetita placent): peace and Sister Keyrouz

Sister Marie Keyrouz, a Lebanese-born Maronite Christian, is one of these all-round people who continually amaze: she holds a Ph.D. in Religious Anthropology as well as in Musicology from the Sorbonne University and she sings. Her repertoire is one at a crossroads between East and West, between Maronite, Byzantine or Aramean songs and Ambrosian or Gregorian ones; it also includes classical pieces of sacred music by composers such as Mozart, Bach or Gounod. Her musical strategy is to recycle rhythms and melodies, tempos and techniques that date back to the beginning of our era.
She founded the "Ensemble de la Paix" in 1984 during the civil war in Lebanon, a multicultural, multiconfessional orchestra that defies political, racial and political categories. She then went on to create "Enfance pour la Paix", a charity which aims at fighting ignorance and poverty, mothers of all evils in her opinion. All profits made from her concerts and CD's go towards it.
It was for a such fund-raising evening that she organised a Christmas concert at the UNESCO in Paris last December. A very emotional occasion indeed after the assassinations of high-profiles Lebanese political figures (in the Gemayel and Hariri dynasties) and the occupation and attack of South Lebanon by the Israeli Army.
Let us hope that an end can be put to this constant spiral of violence and attacks in the country: they must be stopped in order to avoid a complete collapse of Lebanon.
"Singing is praying twice", Sister Marie Keyrouz said...

Confessions

Amy Winehouse's latest album entitled "Back to black" is a very short one: 11 songs in about half an hour. This half-hour is extremely dense, on many levels: first in terms of music, since this young Jewish singer from North London captured the sound of Motown Records and worked in a short space of time with the likes of Marc Ronson (currently enjoying a clear public success with "Stop Me") to create a very soul yet contemporary feel and atmosphere. Trumpets and bass-guitar, as in "He Can Only Hold Her", convey a rich instrumental accompaniment and congratulate Amy's deep voice. Hers is particularly unique: effortless, adaptable, high- and low-pitched, it narrates and sings autobiographical confessions, about love (and its labour lost), addiction (the last song of the album) and alcohol. Alcohol which is still an issue in "Rehab" and today, since she has cancelled concerts at the Sheperd's Bush Empire, London and one at the Trabendo, Paris. One is drawn into very intimate lyrics: the mastership is such that this (only) second album smacks of a great professional experience. On another level, it is a tour de force, since it was recorded in a few weeks. Voice, music, instruments and engrossing lyrics concur to make a very personal album a shared public success.

Azul and Spanishness

Daniel Sanchez Arevalo's latest film Azul poses the issue of the definition of Spanishness. This director is hailed as the new Almodovar, who is known for his tormented heroes and heroines, shocking plots, transgender sexuality, pathos, virtuosity and sheer brilliance. These characteristics partially apply to Azul: a film in which the hero, Jorge, has to look after his invalid widower of a father after he had a heart attack the day when Jorge attempted to set fire to a bin outside the building where they live, refusing thereby to become what is father is and wants him to become: a porter. This fire sets the tone and starts the film: its ashes cover the rest of the story with their dark hue. It will be a leitmotiv for the turning points of the film, at two other moments. All in all, it is a film in three acts, like a short tragedy, or more exactly a tragicomedy, where pathos and bathos mingle, where tears jostle with laughter, where sudden revelations and decisions alter the life of a character for ever. This leads to the theme of Spanishness: this film is very Spanish. The characters are larger than life, outrageous, temperamental, unpredictable and their sexual drives are bared for all to see, watch and even photograph and hold againts one another... And out of this apparent cacophony of subplots, out of the disorder of the events, there remains a lasting anf final impression of unity, of beauty and tranquillity. Order restored, as clear as a blue sky, whose colour is that of the title.

Tate's Britain

Catherine Tate is a revolution on BBC 2 after "Little Britain", in terms of caustic comedy. Through the impersonation of a wide range of larger-than-life characters, all interpreted by herself (and all inspired from people around her), a new portrait of Britain has now been drawn. This chameleon-lady can in turn play (and transform into) a nightmarish secretary, a jack-of-all-trades (and master of none) assistant or a stereotypical middle-class mother. Above all, two creations will remain: the cantankerous Nan Taylor, whose banter and rudeness make her a shocking yet hilarious version of any British grandmother and, last but not least, the astonishingly annoying schoolgirl Lauren, paragon of the so-called "chav culture", whose phrase "Am I bovved" is now a cultural institution...

The war of the roses / La guerre des roses

France is in the middle of the most fascinating political period in years. It is due to many factors: first, who will succede to Jacques Chirac, who has occupied the seraglio of power for more than 30 years? Then, the earthquake of 2002 and the presence at the second round of the neo-nazi Jean-Marie Le Pen beg the question: will he still be around? Finally, will a woman be President, whether on the left or on the right: Segolene Royal for the Socialist Party, (whose emblem is the rose) or perhaps Michele Alliot-Marie (who hasn't discarded the possibility of being a candidate for the UMP, Chirac's party)? The debate within the Socialist Party between the three hopefuls has turned into a struggle, and the image of the longago war of the roses (three in this case) between the rival houses of York and Lancaster can reemerge now. The one organised at the Zenith (a Parisian concert-hall) between Dominique Strauss-Kahn (DSK), Laurent Fabius and Mme Royal was marred by boos, especially towards the end of Mme Royal's 38-minute long speech. All other parties should take a leaf out of the book of the PS in their bid to rejuvenate democracy (etymologically, the "governing by the people"): however, PS partisans should not cut off their noses to spite their faces when jeering. What could happen is the entire collapse of the Socialist edifice: the supporters of the Houses of York and Lancaster caused the destruction of the original branch, the Plantagenets, making way for the Tudor era.

La France est au centre d'une periode des plus fascinante politiquement depuis des annees. Cela releve de plusieurs facteurs: tout d'abord, qui succedera au President actuel, occupant du serail du pouvoir depuis 30 ans, Jacques Chirac? Puis, le cataclysme de 2002 avec la presence au second tour du neo-nazi Jean-Marie Le Pen pose la question la question de son retour eventuel. Enfin, le prochain President sera-t-il une femme? Avec pour le PS (dont l'embleme est la rose), Segolene Royal, et pour l'UMP, Michele Alliot-Marie, qui dit n'ecarter aucune possibilite. Le debat au sein du PS entre les trois pretendants s'est change en lutte, et l'image de la lointaine guerre des deux roses (ici trois) entre les deux maisons rivales de Lancaster et de York vient reemerger. Le debat recent du Zenith entre Dominique Strauss-Kahn, Laurent Fanius et Mme Royal a ete gache par les sifflets de la foule vers la fin du discours de 38 minutes de celle-ci. Tous les autres partis devraient emboiter le pas au PS dans sa tentative de revivifier la democracie (etymologiquement le "gouvernment par le peuple"). Cependant, les partisans du PS ne devraient pas scier la branche sur laquelle ils sont assis en sifflant. Ce qui pourrait arriver serait l'effondrement de l'edifice socialiste: les combattants des maisons de York et de Lancaster causerent la ruine de la maison-mere des Plantagenets, laissant la place aux Tudors.

Harry Potter: children's literature? / littérature pour enfants?

JK Rowling's best-selling Harry Potter books are mostly aimed at kids, aged 9-11, according to Bloomsbury, the publisher. That can be understood in the first three instalments, which contain straightforward plots, center around the Hogwarts School of Wizardry where Harry goes, and don't exceed 300 pages. Everything changes in "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire", a 630 pages-long volume. The sheer size can act as a deterrent, but more importantly the scope is different: two foreign Schools are added, a multitude of characters is substituted to a usually short cast. Of course, although the seven volumes (Harry's novel of growth), represent a huge read, both qualitatively and quantitatively, any devoted child will go through them. But it is on the level of meaning and significance that JK Rowling raises the standards, in terms of literariness. Meaning is layered, and this is why theses novels are very much enjoyable by grown-ups. Onomastics (languages such as Latin, Greek and French being very much in use) is paramount to Rowling's strategy, the construction of the narrative is a juxtaposition of subplots that assemble like a jigsaw puzzle and there is something Dickensian (i-e absurd and comical) about certain elements: the Ludicrous Patents Office in the Ministry of Magic in particular is reminiscent of the Circumlocution Office in Little Dorrit.