Updates, Live

Saturday, March 31, 2012

Hans Moser - Endstation

Endstation (Last Stop), 1935
with Hans Moser, Paul Hörbiger, Maria Andergast
no copyright infringement intended
(http://www.filmforen.de/index.php/blog/10/entry-4528-endstation/)


I can't believe it! Hans Moser plays Paul Hörbiger's father. I didn't think that Hans was that older. Paul Hörbiger plays a street car conductor in Paris, German style (are you sure is it about Paris? How could that be, Paris with German inscriptions everywhere? - my note). Maria Andergast plays a hat creator working at a fashion shop owned by Hubert von Meyerinck. Hans Moser visits a bakery to talk to the owner about getting their children (the baker's daughter and Hans's son) together. Maria has just finished a hat and now she must go and give it to the client. She gets on the street car run by Paul. Paul insists on having the hat box being hanged on the back of the street car. All of a sudden the hat box drops and another street car smashes it. He goes out and picks it up and gives it to her all smashed. He helps her out by later going to the client and making up a story about what happened so Maria would not get fired. He later goes to the fashion shop and gives the hat making up a story how it was found. The street car conductors have an annual festival. Oskar Sima (who plays Straßenbahninspektor Grenzing) gives an invitation for the festival to a a girl who works in the fashion shop. She doesn't want it. Other girls reject the invitation as well. Maria picks it up and decides to take it so she can get together with Paul. She shows up at the festival, hoping that he will notice her. He sings with the male chorus and she watches him. Afterwords he sits with his folks, along with the baker's family. The baker's daughter flirts at him so they end up dancing until he sees Maria. So he rejects the baker's daughter and dances with Maria. The rejected one goes back to the table in tears. Hans starts to spy on them as they get together outside. The baker and Paul's family are mad. Hans and Oskar (you remember, the Straßenbahninspektor Grenzing) get drunk. Next day Paul and Maria meet at lunch and he proposes to her. They have a little argument but then he must go back to work, He picks her up that night to meet his parents. As he goes out for some wine, his mother and father act rude to her which makes her furious, so she leaves. She goes back home and her friend tell her that her ex boss is at the Moulin Rouge (there is one also in Vienna, in case you didn't know) where she can talk to him in getting her job back (?). Paul finds out and goes up there too and has a fight with her. Hans goes to her and tries to apologize and she ignores him. then he goes to Paul and convinces him to get his girl. He does. This film was shot in Vienna before the Anschluss.

(I found the above text on imdb if you don't get confused with it, then you are good :)

Karl Vierthaler (Paul Hörbiger) ist ein typischer Wiener, ein Feschak, gemütlich, dem Heurigen nicht abgeneigt und von Beruf Straßenbahnschaffner. Mit seinem Vater (Hans Moser), einem mosernden, raunzigen und grantlerischen Typ, lebt er sorgenfrei, bis eine hübsche kleine Modistin (Maria Andergast) in sein Leben tritt. Er verliebt sich auf der Stelle, als sie in seine Tram einsteigt. Nach einigen Verwicklungen, die mit ihrem selbstbewussten Auftreten zu tun haben, gewinnt die charmante Schneiderin die Gunst des Vaters und das Happy End findet an der Endstation statt.

It's really a surprise this movie shot in 1935, when all these guys were younger, so Paul Hörbiger could play the son of Hans Moser.





(Hans Moser)

Labels:

Friday, March 30, 2012

Yasujirō Ozu and Setsuko Hara

Setsuko Hara in a cast photo (?)
(Bôrô no kesshitai - Watchtower Suicide Squad)
New Year 1943, Yingpu (North Korea - Mandchuria border)

no copyright infringement intended
(http://httpmyblogblogspotcom-ambrose.blogspot.com/2011/07/new-year-1943-actress-setsuko-hara.html)







(Japanese Cinema)

Labels: ,

Thursday, March 29, 2012

Hans Moser - Der Hofrat Geiger



To summarize, till this week there was only one movie with Hans Moser that I had seen ever, some fifty or sixty years ago: a comedy made in 1940. I looked for that film on the web, I didn't find it anymore. I found instead some other movies, that I was perfectly unaware about. I watched them all, these last days: movies made in Austria in the fifties (or by the end of the forties, like this one, Der Hofrat Geiger). Ozu comes to mind: the same atmosphere, a country that lost the war and tries to forget a recent past that is too overwhelming, where people of a certain age try to fool themselves that the good old ways will go on, while they are too lucid to not observe that the good old ways are more and more illusory, as the signs of the present are just too aggressive, the rock'n roll and all that stuff. And, like in the movies of Ozu from the same period, the present is accepted with some elegant resignation, with some mild irony.

Well, Ozu was a genius, the master of the masters; but the atmosphere is the same; the same charming, warm universe. And like in the case of Ozu's films, here also the same actors play in each movie the same characters, again, and again.


I had found a copy of the whole movie on youTube, unfortunately it was meanwhile deleted. Till I find another copy, here are just a few glimpses:



Hofrat Geiger lebt seit seiner Zwangspensionierung 1938 allein und zurückgezogen. Sein Freund Lechner macht sich Sorgen und bringt ihm als "Arbeitstherapie" längst abgelegte Fälle zur Erledigung mit. Geiger macht sich an die Arbeit und hält plötzlich zu seinem großen Erstaunen den Antrag seiner Jugendliebe in den Händen.
[Counselor Geiger has been living since his forced retirement in 1938 alone and withdrawn. His friend Lechner worries and brings him long ago dropped cases to completion as work therapy. Geiger makes the work and suddenly keeps in his hands the application of his sweetheart from the youth. Add to this Mariandl, the daughter of their long time ago love. The counselor has all his life unaware that he had a daughter.]



Waltraut Haas played Mariandl, the illegitimate daughter of a woman who runs an inn in the picturesque Wachau valley. In 1961, she would play Mariandl's single mother in a remake entitled Mariandl.






(video by BD130)



(Hans Moser)

Labels:

Terry Strickland: The Three Fates


Terry Strickland: The Three Fates, 2012
oil on panel
Principle Gallery
208 King Street, Alexandria, MA


The three Goddesses of Fate, Nona, Decima, and Morta! The poem of Hölderlin comes to my mind, An die Parzen (To the Fates):

Grant me just one summer, powerful ones,
And just one autumn for ripe songs,
That my heart, filled with that sweet
Music, may more willingly die within me.

The soul, denied its divine heritage in life,
Won't find rest down in Hades either.
But if what is holy to me, the poem
That rests in my heart, succeeds —

Then welcome, silent world of shadows!
I'll be content, even though it's not my own lyre
That leads me downwards. Once I'll have
Lived like the gods, and more isn't necessary.


(Principle Gallery)

Labels:

Olavo Bilac: Velhas Árvores



Olha estas velhas árvores, — mais belas,
Do que as árvores moças, mais amigas,
Tanto mais belas quanto mais antigas,
Vencedoras da idade e das procelas...

O homem, a fera e o inseto à sombra delas
Vivem livres de fomes e fadigas;
E em seus galhos abrigam-se as cantigas
E alegria das aves tagarelas...

Não choremos jamais a mocidade!
Envelheçamos rindo! envelheçamos
Como as árvores fortes envelhecem,
Na glória da alegria e da bondade,

Agasalhando os pássaros nos ramos,
Dando sombra e consolo aos que padecem!


Look at these old trees, more lovely these
Than younger trees, more friendly too by far:
More beautiful the older that they are,
Victorious over age and stormy seas ...

The beasts, the insects, man, under the tree
Have lived, and been from toil and hunger free;
And in its higher branches safe and sound
Incessant songs of birds and love are found.

Our youth now lost, my friend, let's not bemoan!
Let's laugh as we grow old! let us grow old
As do the trees, so nobly, strong and bold:
Enjoy the glorious kindness we have sown,

And succor in our branches those who seek,
The shade and comfort offered to the weak!
(http://www.antoniomiranda.com.br/poesia_ingles/olavo_bilac.html)


(Olavo Bilac)

Labels:

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Hans Moser - Hallo Dienstmann



A Dienstmann is the German name for the so-called redcap: the guy who helps you with the luggage. While in any other country a redcap is to be found only in the lobby of a hotel or on the platforms of large railroad stations, Austrians extended the system and created a whole institution: the Dienstmann, licensed by the state, wearing a special uniform (with the license number on the hat) and working generally in public spaces, ready to help with carrying your luggage, also with household errands and the like. The Austrian system of Dienstmänner was used also in some other Central European countries. Actually I remember once I saw in some German (or Czech?) railroad station a uniformed man who was helping people with information in about 20 languages: also kind of a Dienstmann, isn't it?




Here in the movie there is a real Dienstmann (Hans Moser) and a fake one (Paul Hörbiger). It all starts at a fancy ball where an Operetta professor from a Viennese art school comes dressed as a Dienstmann. What follows is a comedy of errors and quid-pro-quo's.

Here are a few glimpses into the movie. Enjoy!











Was ein Dienstmann alles machen muss ist schwer
Trotzdem sagt er immer freundlich: Bitte sehr!
Nimmt den Koffer auf den Rücken
Einmal runter, einmal rauf
Ja, so ein Koffer der kann drücken
Speziell beim Dauerlauf!
Ja, so ein Dienstmann muss oft sein ein Diplomat
Denn so mancher Auftrag ist sehr delikat
Was es da so alles gibt ist oft kein Spaß
Doch das allerschwerste
Bitte, das war das:

Hallo Dienstmann! Hallo Dienstmann!
Nehmen Sie hier diese Dahlie!
Hallo Dienstmann! Hallo Dienstmann!
Geh'n Sie damit zur Amalie!
Hallo Dienstmann! Hallo Dienstmann!
Aber wirft man Sie dort raus
Trag'n Sie hundertmal die Dahlie
Zur Amalie
Ins Haus
Bis man Ihnen dort ein Trinkgeld gibt
Und Amalie mich liebt!

Was man sonst von einem Dienstmann noch verlangt
Und wofür er sich dann höflich noch bedankt:
Springen Sie für mich ins Wasser
Holen Sie meinen Hut heraus!
Und dann tragen Sie als ein Nasser
Ein Klavier noch in mein Haus!
Sagen Sie meiner Frau ich komm erst morgen früh
Ach, geh'n Sie heut für mich zur Neunten Sinfonie
Sie, Herr Dienstmann, ich bin heut schon etwas müd
Singen Sie einmal für mich das Lied

Hallo Dienstmann! Hallo Dienstmann!
Nehmen Sie hier diese Dahlie!
Hallo Dienstmann! Hallo Dienstmann!
Geh'n Sie damit zur Amalie!
Hallo Dienstmann! Hallo Dienstmann!
Aber wirft man Sie dort raus
Trag'n Sie hundertmal die Dahlie
Zur Amalie
Ins Haus
Bis man Ihnen dort ein Trinkgeld gibt
Und Amalie mich liebt!



(Hans Moser)

Labels:

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Hans Moser - Ober Zahlen


Wien 1957: Die Oberkellner Gustav (Paul Hörbiger) und Franz (Hans Moser) arbeiten beim knauserigen Cafétier Panigl und sind trotz ihrer unterschiedlichen Temperamente enge Freunde. Franz ist glücklich verheiratet und Familienvater, Gustav, ein ausgeglichener Charmeur, der ein ruhiges Junggesellenleben führt. Über Nacht werden beide arbeitslos, da sich Panigl zum Verkauf seines nicht mehr florierenden Lokals entschlossen hat. Doch glücklicherweise treffen in dieser Situation 20.000 Dollar aus den USA ein, die Franz' Bruder ihm einst unterschlug und nun zurückzahlt. Gustav und Franz erwerben von dem Geld jeweils die Hälfte des Caféhauses. Die eine Hälfte wird als modernes Musikbox-Espresso Pinguin, die andere als Alt-Wiener Caféhaus eingerichtet. Missverständnisse zwischen Gästen und Generationen bleiben dabei natürlich nicht aus und strapazieren die enge Freundschaft der beiden Kellner.

[Vienna 1957: Gustav (Paul Hörbiger) and Franz (Hans Moser) work as waiters at the stingy cafétier Panigl and are close friends, despite their different tempers. Franz is happily married and a perfect family man, while Gustav, a balanced charmeur, leads a calm bachelor life. Over night both become unemployed, as Panigl decided to put on sale his restaurant, no longer flourishing. Fortunately Franz gets 20,000 dollars from US; a brother he once had helped is now paying back. Franz shares the money with Gustav and each one acquire a half of the café. One half becomes a modern Musicbox Espresso, Pinguin , the other one remains an old Viennese café. Misunderstandings between guests and generations are not missing thereby and funny things happen. You could guess who's managing the Pinguin, and who owns the old style café.]


I couldn't find a'ny video with this movie. As soon as I find one, i will come back and put it here.


(Hans Moser)

Labels:

Cindy Procious: Where's the Tabasco?

Cindy Procious: Where's the Tabasco?
oil on linen on panel
on view at Principle Gallery
208 King Street, Alexandria, MA

(by the way, for my Romanian friends who don't know what Tabasco is - as neither I did - it's a trademark of a very hot red sauce, or a very hot red pepper, which is kind of the same thing - it goes extremely well with raw oysters, and a pint of beer is afterwards a must).

So, here's the Tabasco:




(Principle Gallery)

Labels:

Hans Moser - Die Reblaus

no copyright infringement intended
(http://www.sooss.at/cms/front_content.php?idcat=25)

This is a scene from a movie made in 1940, 7 Jahre Pech (Seven Years of Hard Luck): Hans Moser is here in some restaurant and sings one of his Wienerelieder, while he is getting drunk. I haven't had the chance to see the movie, and I tried today to understand what 7 Jahre Pech was about, so I've read the unique commentary that I found on imdb. I must confess that I didn't understand too much. Well, it seems that the restaurant was a Hungarian bar in Vienna, and the name of it seemingly was Die Reblaus (or even Die Rebläuse, why not? or Stammfisch Die Rebläuse, what about that?). It was an evening of drunkenness, punctuated by the song of Hans Moser, then he came home so drunk that his wife put him to sleep on the couch; a bit later his friend came to visit him, or to drink more together, whatever. The friend entered the bedroom to look for him and fell asleep immediately, on the bed where Hans Moser's wife was sleeping. It seems that a lot of things happened in that movie.

I doubt there are too many people today that saw the movie, while the melody, Die Reblaus, remained famous.



I weiß ned was des is i trink so gern a Flascherl Wein
Da muaß goar ka bsondrer Anlass oda Sunntog sein
I sitzt oft stundnlang allein auf einem Fleckerl
In einem Weinlokal in einem stillen Eckerl
Am anderen Menschen wäre das vielleicht zu dumm
Nur ich bin selig dort und ich weiß warum

I muaß im frühern Lebn eine Reblaus gwesen sein
Ja, sonst wär die Sehnsucht nicht so groß nach einem Wein
Drum tu den Wein ich auch nicht trinken sondern beißen
I hob den Rotn grod so gearn als wie den Weißn
Und schwörn könnt ich, dass ich eine Reblaus gwesn bin
Ich weiß bestimmt, ich hab gehaust in einem Weingarten bei Wien
Drum hab den Gumpoldskirchner ich so vom Herzen gern
Und wonn i stirb möcht i a Reblaus wieda werdn

Ich hab ma schon als Kind gedacht was kann denn das nur sein
Wenn die Mutta mir a Müch gebn hot da wollt ich scho an Wein
Ich konnte damals schon die Müli nicht vertragn
Mir hob'n sich die Hoar aufstellt und umdraht woar mei Magn
Nach langem hin und her studieren kam ich drauf
Wann i liaba an Wein wia a Müli sauf

I muaß im frühern Lebn eine Reblaus gwesen sein
Ja, sonst wär die Sehnsucht nicht so groß nach einem Wein
Drum tu den Wein ich auch nicht trinken sondern beißen
I hob den Rotn grod so gearn als wie den Weißn
Und schwörn könnt ich, dass ich eine Reblaus gwesn bin
Ich weiß bestimmt, ich hab gehaust in einem Weingarten bei Wien
Drum hab den Gumpoldskirchner ich so vom Herzen gern
Und wonn i stirb, bitteschön, möcht ich a Reblaus wieda werdn


cartoon from Punch, September 6, 1890, page 110
artwork by Edward Linley Sambourne (January 4, 1844–August 3, 1910)

no copyright infringement intended
(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Phylloxera_cartoon.png)



Here is a paraphrase to the song that Hans Moser made famous: Friedrich Gulda plays Die Reblaus.



(Hans Moser)

Labels:

Hans Moser - I kann mein Schlüsselloch net finden



Another Wienerlied with Hans Moser: I kann mein Schlüsselloch net finden. Viennese German is superb!




Wie ich am Weg zum Wirtshaus war da war der Weg noch grad
und jetzt sind lauter Kurven drin sa daß sich alles draht
wenn ich in einer Eck wo lehn da steht gleich Parkverbot
der Weg is schwierig pfiat di Gott
Wenn ich zu einer Kreuzung komm da schreit der Wachmann: Halt!
Sie gehn ja rings im Kreis herum sie schwankende Gestalt
da lach ich ihn ganz freundlich an, sag ihm ins Angesicht
wenn sie das stört, mich stört es nicht
Doch jetzt vor meinem Haustor vergeht ma da Hamur
Mein Gott was ist das nur?

Ich kann mein Schlüsselloch ned finden
ja sagns wie kann denn das verschwinden
es war bis heut noch immer dort,
aif einmal isses fort,
mein Ehrenwort.
Ich glaub das Schlüsselloch das pflanzt mi
segns sowas kränkt mi sowas schwanzt mi
I Steh medn Schlüssel in der Hand
und steh wie deppat umanand

Jetzt geht's scho gegen früh und alles schaut auf mi
wer hat den grössern Bart, der Schlüssel oder i
Ich kann mein Schlüsselloch ned finden
ja sag wie kann denn das verschwinden
Da könnt ich weinen wie ein Kind
daß ich das Schlüsselloch ned find.

(Hans Moser)

Labels:

Hans Moser si Epoca Filmelor Vieneze


(Click here for the English version)

Un afis de film care poate fi gasit in Wofgang Siska Shop din Viena, impreuna cu o gramada de alte Wiens Filmsprogramme und Zeitschriften, afise, programe si reviste din epoca Filmelor Vieneze, die Wiener Filme.

Afisul este al singurului film cu Hans Moser pe care am avut sansa sa il vad pana acum. Meine Tochter lebt in Wien (Fiica mea traieste la Viena) a fost facut in 1940. L-am vazut cam pe la sfarsitul anilor cinzeci. Aveam vreo zece, unsprezece ani, iar Doamna Paranici, o prietena buna a parintilor mei, m-a luat cu ea la cinematograf. Stia nemteste foarte bine si avea o simpatie cu totul speciala pentru dialectul vienez, amintindu-i de tineretea ei petrecuta in Imperiul Austro-Ungar. Ei bine, filmul era vorbit dela un cap la altul in dialect vienez, dar nu numai asta: Hans Moser era faimos (asa cum mi-a explicat Doamna Paranici) pentru felul in care bolborosea in graba cuvintele si propozitiile fara sa le termine niciodata.

Mi-a placut enorm filmul, si chiar acum, dupa atatea zeci de ani, imi amintesc de el cu o placere imensa. Hans Moser juca in rolul unui batranel cumsecade dintr-un orasel austriac. Fiica i s-a mutat la Viena si tocmai i-a trimis o fotografie cu o masina decapotabila superba in fata unei vile superbe. Pe spatele fotografiei cateva cuvinte: fiica s-a maritat! Asa incat omul pleaca la Viena, convins ca fiica e maritata cu un milionar. Tot soiul de chestii nostime incep sa curga, de parca ar fi desfasurate dintr-un mosor de ata care se rostogoleste la vale, pentru ca eroul nostru gaseste la Viena lucruri alarmante: milionarul are o amanta, un tip suspect misuna de jur imprejurul vilei vrand sa o convinga pe nevasta milionarului sa divorteze; adaugati-o pe batrana servitoare care isi spioneaza stapanii tot timpul ascultand pe la usi, si veti avea tabloul complet. Hans Moser se pune imediat pe treaba sa faca ordine in toata nebunia asta, pentru ca la sfarsit (cand toate sunt din nou la locul lor, amanta a disparut, servitoarea isi vede numai de treaba ei si asa mai departe) sa isi dea seama ca a facut o singura confuzie, ce-i drept teribila: fiica lui e maritata, asta e adevarat, ba chiar asteapta un bebelus; numai ca nu este sotia milionarului, ci a soferului.

Era, cum aveam sa o aflu mai tarziu, rolul tipic in care juca Hans Moser: un om de conditie modesta (mic negustor, chelner ajuns poate patronul unei carciumioare in caz de mare noroc, portar imbracat intr-o uniforma cu sapca si fireturi, etc, etc), absolut onest, absolut de moda veche, absolut nesofisticat, si totodata absolut repezit tot timpul, genul de om care mai intai iti taie o ureche si de abia pe urma ti le numara.

Am cautat filmul astazi pe web, fara succes din pacate. Am gasit alte filme cu Hans Moser, si poate o sa pun cateva aici. Doar ca e bine sa stiti dialectul vienez, altfel sunt cam greu de urmarit.

A fost cunoscut si ca interpret de Wienerlieder, de cantece vieneze, si aici e un video cu un cantec care ma unge pe inima: Mein Herz das ist ein Bilderbuch vom alten Wien. Si e in graiul vienez, Doamne!





Kennst den oiden Weaner?
Den, mit der Vergina?
Mit dem gold'nen Herzen und dem Riesengranz?
Kennst den Kaiser Franzl
und an echtes Gstanzl,
kennst die Märchenstadt am Donaustrand?

Mein Herz, das ist ein Bilderbuch vom oidn Wien,
da blätter ich ganz heimlich manches Moi darin.
Und werd' vor Freud' so narrisch dann, ois wie an Kind,
wenn ich den oidn Prater wie er war drin find:
Auf Seite drei, schau ich die feschen Maderln an,
auf Seite vier, do foahrt die oide Pferdebahn,
auf Seite fünf, sieht man die Leut' zum Blumenkorso zieh'n:
Mein Herz, das ist ein Bildebuch vom oidn Wien!

Liebe Wiener Vroni!
Du bist so voll Harmonie!
Jeder Zauber woar an schöner Walzertakt!
Die Bummerin ham' g'klungen,
die Maderl ham g'sungen,
Wean, dein Zauber hat noch jedem g'foin!

Mein Herz, das ist ein Bilderbuch vom oidn Wien,
da blätter ich ganz heimlich manches Moi darin.
Und werd' vor Freud' so narrisch dann, ois wie an Kind,
wenn I d' Fiaker und die guat Musik drin find:
Auf Seite sechs, da dirigiert da Johann Strauß,
auf Seite sie'm, trang's grad Prioschkipferl 'naus
und auf der letzten Seiten singt der liebe Augustin:
Mein Herz, das ist ein Bilderbuch vom oidn Wien!

Labels: ,

Monday, March 26, 2012

Hans Moser and the Epoch of Viennese Films


(click here for the Romanian version)

A poster that can be found in Wofgang Siska Shop in Vienna, together with many other Wiens Filmsprogramme und Zeitschriften, memorabilia coming from the epoch of Wiener Filme, the Viennese Films.

That poster is of the only movie with Hans Moser that I had the chance to watch so far. Meine Tochter lebt in Wien (My Daughter lives in Vienna) had been made in 1940. I saw it sometime by the end of the fifties. I was a kid, and one evening Frau Paranici, a very good friend of my parents, took me to see it. She knew German very well and had a special liking for the Viennese dialect. Well, this movie was spoken in a savory Viennese dialect, and not only that: Hans Moser was famous (as Frau Paranici explained to me) for his way of mumbling words and sentences without finishing them.

I enjoyed the movie enormously, and even now, after so many decades, I remember it with an immense pleasure. Hans Moser plays the role of a good old guy from a little town in Austria. His daughter moved to Vienna and just sent him a photo of a superb convertible in front of a superb villa. On the back of the photo a few words: she got married! So the man goes to Vienna, convinced that the daughter is married to a millionaire. A lot of funny things unravel, as our hero finds out that the millionaire has a mistress, there is also a guy who is teeming around, trying to persuade the millionaire's wife to divorce; add to this the old maid who is spying the masters, listening behind the doors, and the tableau is complete. Hans Moser starts immediately to make order in all this madness, to realize at the end (when everything is again in good order, the mistress is no more, the old maid is minding her own business, etc, etc.) that in one respect he has been terribly wrong all the time: his daughter is married, that's true, she's even expecting a baby; only she is not the wife of the millionaire! Her husband is the millionaire's driver.

It was, as I would find out later, the typical role of Hans Moser: a man of modest condition (small merchant, waiter, porter, and the like), absolutely honest, absolutely old-fashioned, absolutely not sophisticated, while absolutely quick-minded, the kind of guy who firstly is cutting your ear and then counts them, to realize just at the end that you didn't have three ears, only two, so there was no need of any cutting.

I looked for this movie on the web today. I didn't find it, unfortunately. I found instead other movies with Hans Moser, and maybe I will put one or two of them here.

He was also an interpret of Viennese songs, Wienerlieder as they are known, and here is a video with a nice one: Mein Herz das ist ein Bilderbuch vom alten Wien (My Heart is a Picture Book of Old Vienna). Enjoy!





Kennst den oiden Weaner?
Den, mit der Vergina?
Mit dem gold'nen Herzen und dem Riesengranz?
Kennst den Kaiser Franzl
und an echtes Gstanzl,
kennst die Märchenstadt am Donaustrand?

Mein Herz, das ist ein Bilderbuch vom oidn Wien,
da blätter ich ganz heimlich manches Moi darin.
Und werd' vor Freud' so narrisch dann, ois wie an Kind,
wenn ich den oidn Prater wie er war drin find:
Auf Seite drei, schau ich die feschen Maderln an,
auf Seite vier, do foahrt die oide Pferdebahn,
auf Seite fünf, sieht man die Leut' zum Blumenkorso zieh'n:
Mein Herz, das ist ein Bildebuch vom oidn Wien!

Liebe Wiener Vroni!
Du bist so voll Harmonie!
Jeder Zauber woar an schöner Walzertakt!
Die Bummerin ham' g'klungen,
die Maderl ham g'sungen,
Wean, dein Zauber hat noch jedem g'foin!

Mein Herz, das ist ein Bilderbuch vom oidn Wien,
da blätter ich ganz heimlich manches Moi darin.
Und werd' vor Freud' so narrisch dann, ois wie an Kind,
wenn I d' Fiaker und die guat Musik drin find:
Auf Seite sechs, da dirigiert da Johann Strauß,
auf Seite sie'm, trang's grad Prioschkipferl 'naus
und auf der letzten Seiten singt der liebe Augustin:
Mein Herz, das ist ein Bilderbuch vom oidn Wien!





(German and Nordic Cinema)

Labels: ,

Sunday, March 25, 2012

Fantasticele Carti Zburatoare ale Domnului Maiputin Maimult


(click here for the English version)
Am gasit filmuletul asta de numai cinsprezece minute absolut din intamplare, in timp ce frunzaream blogul unui iubitor de carti portughez. Am inceput sa urmaresc filmul si am fost fermecat imediat. Si mi-a venit in minte un vechi prieten: o prietenie veche de vreo saizeci de ani.

Aveam cinci-sase ani, el pe vremea aceea avea vreo cinsprezece-saisprezece. O matusa de-a lui locuia impreuna cu noi si el o vizita deseori. Imi deschideam ochii catre lume, iar lumea era imensa si plina de necunoscute, asa ca nu e de mirare ca aveam o gramada de intrebari. Ii placea sa ma asculte cu rabdare si sa imi raspunda. Era vorba despre orice s-ar putea imagina, despre pirati si exploratori, despre mari si oceane, despre Polul Nord si Polul Sud, despre vanatoarea de animale exotice, ba chiar si despre ce meserie sa imi aleg atunci cand voi fi mare. Mi-a aratat ca nu exista meserie fara riscuri: ca marinar exista posibilitatea unui naufragiu, ca soldat mergeai la razboi si erai impuscat, pur si simplu, ca inginer faceai vreun calcul gresit si provocai un accident, deci inchisoarea era ce te astepta, ca sofer posibilitatea unui accident era parca si mai mare. Asa ca l-am intrebat ce-ar fi sa ma fac preot! Mi-a spus ca pana si aceasta cariera nu era lipsita de riscuri: trebuia sa umbli imbracat intr-o sutana groasa chiar si in verile cele mai calduroase, asa incat puteai foarte usor sa faci tot soiul de boli pornite dela mancarime.

Dupa vreo doi ani am inceput sa merg la scoala, iar el a intrat la facultate. A inceput sa imi dea carti de-ale lui, pe cat imi amintesc prima a fost Vrajitorul din Oz, apoi cateva carti de Jules Verne si Nicolai Nosov. Erau si basmele lui Andersen, o editie care se bucura acum de prezenta celor doua nepoate ale mele. A urmat o carte de stiinta popularizata despre vulcani si apoi o carte scrisa de Sven Hedin despre calatoriile lui de-a lungul si de-a latul Pamantului. Insa cartea cea mai naucitoare pe care mi-a dat-o a fost alta: Calatoriile lui Marco Polo.

Anii treceau si fiecare isi vedea de ale lui, in timp ce pasiunea pentru carti ne ramasese amandurora. Ma duceam foarte des la un anticariat, si uneori dadeam peste el acolo, frunzarind vreo carte frantuzeasca veche, sau vreun album cu poze sepia. Il vizitam cateodata, impreuna cu sotia si copilul meu, uneori imi intorcea vizita, impreuna cu sotia lui. Si de fiecare data o carte venea in discutie. Ne-am intalnit atunci cand am plecat in America si mi-a aratat trei carti pe care le citea oarecum in paralel. despre felul americanilor de a fi si despre experientele imigrantilor. Bine inteles ca nu numai despre astea trei carti discutam: Tocqueville era si el prezent, undeva in fundal.

In America imi lipseau cartile lasate la Bucuresti, asa ca am inceput sa le caut. Marco Polo si Sven Hedin, Stanisław Lem si Milorad Pavić, Parintele Alexander Schmemann si Vladimir Lossky; un prieten din Romania mi-a trimis carti pe care nu aveam cum sa le gasesc, Mateiu Caragiale si Parintele Boris Raduleanu. Insa in America aveam sa descopar alti autori care erau noi pentru mine, englezi si americani, si nu numai: interesul lor cultural este deschis catre toate punctele cardinale.

M-am intors dupa multi ani ca sa imi dau seama ca prietenia noastra se racise. Poate din cauza ca amandoi imbatraniseram, poate din lipsa de timp, sau din lipsa de entuziasm, sau poate dintr-un pic din fiecare astea. Oricum, ultima noastra intalnire a adus cartile in discutie din nou, numai ca de data asta ca sa arate neintelegerile care erau acum intre noi. Foloseam intens webul si cartile electronice in timp ce pentru el doar cartile tiparite aveau sens, nimic altceva.

Asta a fost acum cativa ani. Am incercat sa ne mai intalnim, dar de fiecare data ceva s-a intamplat. Ne-am mai telefonat, apoi si asta a incetat. Iar viata a mers inainte, ca asa-i viata, isi vede de-ale ei, iar cartile electronice au devenit tot mai sofisticate, avansand de pe laptopuri pe tablete, in vreme ce cartile tiparite au ramas la fel cum erau, din ce in ce mai uitate pe rafturi prafuite.

L-am sunat azi la telefon dupa ce am vazut filmul: Fantasticele Carti Zburatoare ale Domnului Maiputin Maimult ne spune o poveste despre carti tiparite, despre paginile lor pline de cuvinte si de imagini, despre cum e sa traiesti inconjurat de carti, visand in timp ce le rasfoiesti, pana te pierzi in povestile lor. Este despre dragostea pentru slova tiparita, si despre felul in care slova tiparita iti intoarce dragostea. Un film despre agresivitatea cartilor electronice, actionand ca un uragan, distrugand spiritul cuvintelor si imaginilor, si despre cum sa reconstruiesti acest spirit. Toate astea intr-un desen animat, in forma unei povesti pentru copii, o fantezie avand loc intr-o atmosfera care aminteste cateodata de Vrajitorul din Oz , poate un pic si de Balonul Rosu (in timp ce eroul seamana putin cu Buster Keaton).

Ironie a sortii, scenariul este bazat pe o carte care poate fi acum citita pe tablete PC, rasfoind paginile electronice si invitand cititorul la o joaca interactiva.

Asa ca am telefonat amicului meu si i-am spus ca ii voi dedica acest text, numai ca probabil el nu il va citi: textul este pe web.



Inspired, in equal measures, by Hurricane Katrina, Buster Keaton, The Wizard of Oz, and a love for books, The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore is a poignant, humorous allegory about the curative powers of story. Using a variety of techniques (miniatures, computer animation, 2D animation) award winning author/ illustrator William Joyce and co-director Brandon Oldenburg present a hybrid style of animation that harkens back to silent films and MGM Technicolor musicals. Morris Lessmore is old fashioned and cutting edge at the same time.
(imdb)

É um filme maravilhoso que tem todas razões para ser um filme vencedor. É encantador e transmite uma mensagem importante: os livros enriquecem-nos, preenchem completamente a nossa vida e mantém a nossa imaginação viva. Para além de tudo isto, é também uma declaração de amor aos livros de papel. The fantastic flying books… foi lançado o ano passado como um livro digital interativo para iPad que chegou ao primeiro lugar entre os mais vendidos nas lojas da Apple. Ora veja!

You can repair books, tumble through a storm, learn the piano and even get lost in a book, flying through a magical world of words... like a well-written bed-time story and an immersive animated movie at once.

Morris Lessmore loved words.
He loved stories.
He loved books.
But every story has its upsets.
Everything in Morris Lessmore’s life, including his own story, is scattered to the winds.
But the power of story will save the day
.

Labels:

A Bit of Haydn


March 28th: evening with trios by Haydn and Beethoven at the Romanian Athenaeum; a way to explore the development of the musical form of variations.

Musical variations are, in their first sense, a compositional technique; in Haydn's trios they can be found also as a musical form in its own right, while in Beethoven's trios they are treated independently, as a musical genre.

I offer here just a little bit of Haydn: the First Movement of the Piano Trio in C major Hob. XV:27; a concert that took place at the Moscow Kremlin in 2009, with Dmitri Vinnik (piano), Sviatoslav Moroz (violin), and Natalia Gutman (cello).




(Old Masters)

Labels:

Friday, March 23, 2012

The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore


(click here for the Romanian version)
I found this 15 minutes movie totally by chance, as I was browsing the blog of a Portuguese books lover. I started watching the movie and I was immediately charmed. An old friend of mine came to my mind: a friendship of some sixty years old.

I was five or six, he was fifteen or sixteen by that time. An aunt of him was living together with us and he was visiting her very often. I was just opening my eyes to the world, and the world was immense and full of unknowns, so no wonder I had lots of questions. He was taking time to listen to my questions and to give answers. It was about anything one could imagine, about pirates and about explorers, about the North Pole and the South Pole, and about seas and oceans, about hunting exotic animals, and about what job to take when I would grow up. He explained to me that there was no job without potential risks: as a sailor there was the possibility of a shipwreck, as a soldier you went to war and get killed, as simple as that, as an engineer you could make some wrong calculus and provoke an accident, thus the prison would await you, as a driver the possibility of an accident was even closer. So I asked him what about to become a priest! He said that even this career was not risk-free, as you would be compelled to wear a very thick uniform, even during the hottest summer, which could bring you all kind of skin diseases.

After two years or so I started going to school, and he entered the University. He began to pass some books of him to me, as I remember it was firstly The Wizard of Oz, then some books by Jules Verne and Nikolay Nosov. The were also the tales of Andersen, an edition now enjoying the presence of my two little grand-daughters. A book about volcanoes followed, and then a book written by Sven Hedin about his travels all over the world. But the most astounding book I got from him was another one: The Travels of Marco Polo.

Years have passed, each of us was following his ways, while both sharing the passion for books. I was going often in a used books store, and sometimes he was there, browsing some old French book, or some album of old photos. Sometimes I was visiting him, together with my wife and my kid, some other times he and his wife were returning the visit. Each time it was a book that was coming in our discussion. When I left for America we met and he showed me three books he was reading somehow in parallel, about the American ways and about immigrant experience there. Of course, there were not only those three books our talk was about: Tocqueville was also present, in the background.

In America, I missed my books left in Bucharest, and I tried to find them again. Marco Polo and Sven Hedin, Stanisław Lem and Milorad Pavić, Father Alexander Schmemann and Vladimir Lossky; a friend sent me from Romania books that I couldn't find there, Mateiu Caragiale and Father Boris Raduleanu. Well, in America I discovered other authors that were new for me, English and Americans, and not only: the cultural interest there is open toward the whole universe.

After many years I came back and our friendship was no more the same. Maybe because both of us were old now, maybe because of lack of time, or because of lack of enthusiasm, or a bit of all these. Anyway our last meeting brought the subject of books again, only this time to punctuate disagreements. I was now using intensively the web and the electronic books, while for him only the printed books had sense, nothing else.

This was a couple of years ago. We tried to meet again, but each time it was something impeding it. We called each other by phone several times, then this stopped too. Life went on and electronic books became more and more sophisticated, advancing from desktops and laptops to tablets, while printed books remained the same, more and more forgotten on shabby shelves.

I called him again today, after watching the movie: The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore tells a story about printed books, about their pages, full of words and images, about living surrounded by books, dreaming while browsing the pages till you get lost in their stories. It's about love for the printed word, and about the way the printed word returns your love. A movie about the aggressiveness of electronic books, acting like a hurricane, destroying the spirit of words and of images, and about the way to reconstruct the lost spirit. All this in an animation, in the form of a story for kids, a phantasy taking place in an atmosphere reminding sometimes The Wizard of Oz , maybe also a bit Le Ballon Rouge (while the hero somehow resembles Buster Keaton).

Ironically, the story is based on a book that can be read now on laptops and on tablets, browsing the electronic pages and inviting the reader to play interactively.

And I called my friend to tell him about all this, and I said that I would dedicate this text to him and to his love for the printed book, only he wouldn't be able to read it: the text is on my blog, on the web.



Inspired, in equal measures, by Hurricane Katrina, Buster Keaton, The Wizard of Oz, and a love for books, The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore is a poignant, humorous allegory about the curative powers of story. Using a variety of techniques (miniatures, computer animation, 2D animation) award winning author/ illustrator William Joyce and co-director Brandon Oldenburg present a hybrid style of animation that harkens back to silent films and MGM Technicolor musicals. Morris Lessmore is old fashioned and cutting edge at the same time.
(imdb)

É um filme maravilhoso que tem todas razões para ser um filme vencedor. É encantador e transmite uma mensagem importante: os livros enriquecem-nos, preenchem completamente a nossa vida e mantém a nossa imaginação viva. Para além de tudo isto, é também uma declaração de amor aos livros de papel. The fantastic flying books… foi lançado o ano passado como um livro digital interativo para iPad que chegou ao primeiro lugar entre os mais vendidos nas lojas da Apple. Ora veja!

You can repair books, tumble through a storm, learn the piano and even get lost in a book, flying through a magical world of words... like a well-written bed-time story and an immersive animated movie at once.

Morris Lessmore loved words.
He loved stories.
He loved books.
But every story has its upsets.
Everything in Morris Lessmore’s life, including his own story, is scattered to the winds.
But the power of story will save the day
.


(A Life in Books)

(Filmofilia)

Labels: