Fittings and failings

Dear kind and patient reader,

How are you doing? Is Spring actually "springing" where you are? Here it's still bitingly cold, so much so that as I left the flat this morning I was worried that my hair must have thinned so much in the last few days, because without a hat on, my head and ears were in pain as the piercingly cold wind hit. But I don't think it's the lack of thick long locks that is responsible. It is simply COLD here. Still.

It's been a busy time, and I'm juggling so many things that I don't know where to start in trying to fit in having time to myself. The only non-negotiable time I can stick to is my aerobics and pilates slot three times a week, but that's not so much relaxing as an onslaught on my fears about ageing and my attempts to encourage my body to stay with me, work with me and give me half a chance of still having a career in music and being visible as a woman, despite not being a spring chicken.

Anyway, enough of my complaining. I went to a most interesting 'fitting' for the now already being reported on, film '1864'. They're starting shooting on it in a couple of weeks in Denmark, but shooting doesn't start here until June. In the meantime, they wanted to check out a few possible hairstyles and, indeed, hair pieces for my role. Which involved lots of comparing my hair with the fake hair for the colour comparison and my having to try to retain some dignity in my mind while being faced with the slightly disconcerting reality of the sheer number of grey hairs I now have. Centre partings reveal it all from face shape, to spots, to grey hairs, it's the most unbecoming look ever. 

The make-up director - the only Danish person there, who ironically was called Björk - seemed quite happy with the results though. One 'look' involved having my hair down in a long plait - which was just a plait of fake hair added on the end of my own, plaited in. And the other two were variations of an 'up' do from the 1860s. Both of these involved considerable back-combing, hairspray and about a hundred clips so that when they were finished, I felt like I was carrying a bag of rice on my head. 

There was some lovely repartee as we went along though, which was kind of fun. Some of which was in Czech, some in English. One of the guys there, whose job remained unknown to me, reminisced about working with the lovely Libuše Šafránková, who, from what I can tell has been in almost every Czech film ever made over the last 3 decades. She was apparently always so nice to everyone, all the crew loved her. 

Then I mentioned how funny it had been to notice while watching the Czech film world awards, called, ,,Lev" [lion] that the presenter obviously knew one of the actors, Ondřej Vetchý, as a friend, because they 'tykat'-ed each other (i.e. used the 'tu', not 'Vous' form equivalent) while talking about presenting an award. I felt like this would never happen in England even if we did have a 'tu' and 'Vous' form to differentiate between. I think people often switch to more formal language for formal events such as awards ceremonies, regardless of who they are talking to. But maybe I'm wrong. Would the French disguise a personal relationship by switching back to using 'Vous' with a friend for the purposes of presenting an awards ceremony? I feel sure that they would, having seen how a friend who worked as an au pair was suddenly referred to as 'tu' during a party the family had one night, but was back to being addressed as 'Vous' the next morning when she was looking after the children. Hmm. Is this somehow insincere? Is it wrong? It's certainly easier to disguise in English, as there is no grammatical distinction to be made in the same way as exists in French, Czech or almost any other European language infact.

I also had to laugh, when I was marched back and forth to the plain white wall where a photographer took pictures of each actor's finished 'look' to log it for reference, and I felt like I was being taken to line up for a firing squad. And in the midst of all that, I was referred to as ,Slečna Herečka', which translates as 'Miss Actress' and sounds ridiculous in English, but is what Czechs do all the time when they don't know someone's name but they know their job. So, ,Paní učitelka'  ('Mrs Teacher') is very common, for example. That's what all the kids in schools call their teachers. It sounds so baby-ish in English somehow, and even more ridiculous when used for an actress, which I barely even see myself as, because acting work happens so rarely, that I'm only an actress for a few hours or days while a film is being shot, but thereafter I revert to just plain old me. (Getting-old, me, actually.)

But for the Czechs, this seemed a logical and easy way to deal with all of these actors and not having to remember my difficult and unusual name. I also got measured for the costumes they'll be making for me, which was funny too, because you're suddenly this thing to be poked and prodded and remarked upon. My tiny stature being something noteworthy to some extent, as it's not very typical, especially not for an actress. They took all sorts of strange measurements and said that I'd probably have to come back for a proper fitting at some stage, to make the skirt really fit tightly around my waist. However, they said this in Czech and I'm not sure if I totally understood all of it.

As for the 'failings' part of this letter, I made an effort to cook something healthy, though rather expensive here, unfortunately, and got some salmon and broccoli and brown rice and put together a good, healthy meal, the like of which is not easy to make often, due to the lack of choice of affordable meals one can make from things available in supermarkets here, especially in the depths of godforsaken Chodov. I liked it. I put basil and lemon with the salmon and I liked the fact that it was simple, healthy and well-cooked to a soft, delicate texture. There was some left over for the cowboy when he got back, and he, rather hungry, ate it quickly. But then he came and found me washing up in the kitchen afterwards and said, in his inimitable way, "Um, sorry, but did you even add salt to it? Did you add salt to the broccoli?" To which I replied yes, because I had, but I hadn't added more than a few turns of the salt and pepper grinders, along the length of the salmon and around the saucepan of the broccoli, and clearly, this was far too healthy an approach. It is not Czech. "It was tasteless", the cowboy complained, having eaten it all. 

From which I conclude two important things: 1) The cowboy is only satisfied with a meal if it contains enough salt to kill a small child (and that may not even be enough because you can kill babies quite easily with tiny amounts of salt, so I imagine a small child doesn't need a whole lot more) and 2) the cowboy is the kind of man who expects things he does not bother to communicate and when they aren't there and he could feasibly do something about it (like get off his bottom and go to the kitchen to get some more salt) opts to play the victim and complain when it's too late to change as though he's been really hard done by, instead of actually taking action himself. I hate to say it, but it strikes me that these two things are inherently Czech attributes. Neither of which I have any time for.

It's time to leave. And discover the unfortunate attributes of another culture that I first  felt drawn to. I am not meant to stay in one place too long, methinks. As the TV theme to 'the littlest hobo' goes, "maybe tomorrow, I'll wanna settle down. Until tomorrow, I'll just keep movin' on..." I hope. Please, soon, allow me an exit strategy of some sort, I implore you, world.

I bid you goodnight for now, kind reader and wish you calming, if not actually sweet, dreams,

Ms. Platform Edge.X 

Looper, Lars and not many laughs

I seem to be having one of those weeks where it's super-busy to the point of insanity but then there's a total slump afterwards where my body refuses to keep up the momentum and relentlessness any longer. I also seem to be observing odd little things as I have wound my way throughout the week. First of all, I sort of reached a milestone with a professional project this week, so I decided to sneakily celebrate it by going out to the cinema with the cowboy. Except I didn't tell him that it was my way of celebrating my achievement because when I'd mentioned the completed work to him earlier he just said, "yeah, but you've been doing that for ages and I don't even see the point of it". So it was my own way of marking the milestone, giving him an opportunity to have an evening out which he needed too and just try to enjoy doing something fun together for once. 

We went and watched the film, "Looper", which stars Emily Blunt and Bruce Willis (looking somewhat shockingly old) and Joseph Gordon-Levitt, who I hadn't come across before. Emily Blunt was great and performed with a really convincing Southern-ish US accent without sounding OTT and her character's bravado made me laugh. It was one of those time-travel themed sci-fi films which get hard to follow because you spend half the time thinking, "so did that happen in the past and now they're trying to go back and correct it? And if so, why are they bothering to go back to the present..." and you end up giving up because it's, frankly, not worth the hassle because you miss the next part of the film if you sit there trying to figure it out. Which they kind of made a joke about in the film anyway, perhaps to appease the audience who would by then be getting a bit lost. I still think it was worth seeing, even though it was kind of depressing. And Jeff Daniels was a hoot as the ruthless boss/chief character just by being so unnervingly unpredictable. So it was kind of worth it for his scenes alone.

Afterwards, we wandered around like lost sheep trying to find our way out of the shopping centre, where the cinema is located (following the impossible trail of escalators that don't run all in one line down, so you keep having to walk out of your way and come across more random shops in order to find the exit) and we came upon a small supermarket (called 'Albert' - no, seriously) and realised we were out of bread and milk so we should at least pick up those things. And that's when I came across the "Duff" beer that I've seen out in stalls in the centre of town but saw for the first time in a shopping centre. 

I don't know who decided to give that a go and how they got permission from the Simpsons to do it, but there were not only cans of it but bottles too. 

Which then sparked a mini 'supermarket photos frenzy' (Czech soups - including Goulash soup)

and 'Lentilky' (the Czech kind of Smarties)

and the cowboy remarked how this kind of behaviour could get me arrested. Well, it could have in the US. Sadly, no-one batted an eyelid here.

And the rest of the week has been a mad rush of meetings and an entrepreneurial conference online, making videos for music-y things and trying to keep up with admin. Until this afternoon/evening when I decided to watch three films back to back because the cowboy is at his brother's and I have several films I've wanted to see for ages but couldn't because I never have the time or the cowboy wouldn't be interested in that kind of film. So I watched an old one for comfort-viewing which was just a cheesy chick flick but with Joan Cusack being utterly brilliant in it, which is so typical for her that I know that that doesn't narrow it down for you... Then I watched 'Salt' (as the cowboy would normally like this kind of film but he hates Angelina Jolie for some reason, enough that he won't watch a film with her in) and found it very entertaining but with an annoyingly open-ended and 'unfinished' kind of ending. Followed by, 'Lars and the Real Girl', which just made me cry even though the premise is so ridiculous (and the doll looked strangely like Angelina Jolie infact..!) but the underlying feelings of the characters are so sad and yet so caring. I don't know why it made me cry so much. Maybe it was the sense of everyone going out of their way to be kind to this guy who was obviously in a huge amount of pain. It's so unusual. And that in itself is sad. 

But Ryan Gosling blinks a lot, don't you think? I've only seen him in this, one other film I've already forgotten the name of, and 'Fracture', and he blinks a lot in all of them. Maybe that's what makes him so endearing. It certainly helped him seem more of a nutcase in this film. (Maybe nutcase is too harsh. I catch myself calling myself a nutcase from time to time, but I think that's just my Mum's voice infiltrating my brain again, as it sometimes does.) And in the middle of all that, I got a lovely email from a friend saying how artistically fashionable and gorgeous I looked today, which was not only super-lovely, but also surprising because it was one of those, 'hardly anything left to wear because there are piles of washing to do' days and I'd worn my greeny-blue jeans, my cookie monster t-shirt and a couple of cardigans (it was cold) and I thought I looked so scruffy, I'd better do my best to compensate by wearing (fake) pearls, chunky glass-gem-looking earrings and pale pink/purple lipstick. I thought I probably looked like some kind of freak. But maybe that's just 'artistically fashionable' seen from a different perspective. I guess only the likes of I-D, Dazed and Confused and NYLON magazine would know about that. And I'm probably too old for their demographics anyway. Who knows.

I feel so frustrated today that so much effort has gone in to achieving what feels like so little. I can't even finish recording the two songs I want to finish before Christmas without difficulties of organising time with the guy I know here who has a studio (well, is moving to a new one actually, so currently only has a home studio) and organising time to practise. The cowboy is very concerned with how thin the walls are here in this council-flat like place and doesn't want me to sing or play aloud in the evenings, so I have to try to fit it in around meetings and so on during the daytime. Which hopefully will get easier to do soon, once I've done enough on the videos I've been doing. But doing any recording here seems just out of the question. Even for something fun and simple like recording a cover song on the keyboard with just that and vocals.

I think I'm rambling too much now, so I'd better get to bed. Goodnight readers, wherever you are.