A.I. didn’t invent anything new!
If you have 7 minutes, I recommend watching this Armenian animated short film from 1983. Starting at 1:30, you’ll see that the psychedelic transformations of the demon Ekh closely resemble the current nightmare-inducing deep dreams of A.I.:
Moral of the story: always be kind to talking animals.
What a pleasure it was to attend the premiere of the documentary Les Sirènes de Dieppe at the Max Linder yesterday morning! An hour in the company of the drag performers from La Sirène à Barbe (The Beardy Mermaid Cabaret): the backstage, the camaraderie, the financial struggles, the fight against intolerance, and a bit of musical comedy. A truly well-made film.
My composer friend Raphaël Bancou—whom I reconnected with after 10 years at this event—composed the music. More on him soon.
If you’re interested, the film by the two Nicolas (Birkenstock and Engel) will be available on replay starting September 19th on France TV. Don’t miss it. And if you’re in Dieppe, go see them live!
I’m belatedly exploring the works of Giorgio Moroder, aka Giorgio, who seems to have influenced every electronic artist on the planet. Recently, I’ve been listening to this 1972 track on repeat:
The simplicity, the repetition, the crescendo. That’s all it takes.
I registered after the deadline, so I couldn't schedule my meetings as well as I would have liked. Despite that, I caught up with friends, met some very nice people, attended some truly enlightening conferences, and had a few drinks—it's been a while.
This festival is very well organized for networking—with pre-arranged meetings and an app for connecting. And Valence—I forget this every time—but it's quite nice.
If you had asked me the day before yesterday, I would have told you I'm not really into concerts.
The music is too loud. There's too much commotion. It's too long.
But that was before my buddy Jackie Berroyer (who, let’s not forget, was a music columnist for Hara-Kiri) invited me to see Fat White Family last night at La Cigale. Never heard of them. I wasn’t expecting much. "You'll see, they're pretty good, you might like them," he said.
OK, now I get why people love concerts.
Incredible experience. Yes, the music was wild, hard-hitting rock with a sense of progression and some unexpected instruments (flute, baritone sax). Then there's the lead singer, Lias Saoudi. He's in shorts. By the second song, he's down in the pit singing in the middle of the crowd—setting the tone. For the rest of the concert, he sings (sometimes screams, but always in tune) balanced on amps, in a fetal position on the edge of the stage, or crowd-surfing.
From above, the pit pulses. It’s a collective experience. But you can tell it’s all masterfully controlled by a seasoned band: you catch the subtle, precise gestures the band members direct to the technicians; behind the wild personas are professionals who have crafted a structured and generous show. And the space of La Cigale, where you can move around freely, offers the freedom and intimacy to truly enjoy the experience.
I can see how people who’ve experienced this once can become concert junkies, chasing that initial high. And why some old-timers endlessly reminisce about a show they saw in their youth: "Oh, you know, when I saw that band back in '76..."
"A concert like that, you remember it for the rest of your life," Jackie told me as we walked out. Yup, probably.
If Sting repeats it three times in his song, it must be important.
It seems crucial to me, but also extremely difficult. All the authors (and people) I admire have, at some point, found "their" voice, their way of being, their vision of the world; while others continue to "imitate" by poorly copying their idols. Note: I think this is an essential stage. Admiring is being moved. Wanting to "be like" someone is recognizing something sublime in them that you wish you had; it shows a sensitivity that marks the beginning of everything. But to reach the next level and be considered an "author," "artist," or whatever, the second step is not optional: you have to find that quality within yourself. Develop your own tools. Shape your character from your inner material.
The main obstacles are always the same, it seems to me: fear and ignorance.
Fear of not being interesting enough. Fear of not being cool, strong, intelligent, or tormented like those we envy. Fear of not having the right past, the right life, the right look, the right mind. Fear that it's too early or too late.
Layered over all this: a coating of ignorance. Ignorance that these fears are natural, shared, collective. That they are often the driving force behind the talent and careers of those we admire. That, regardless of success, they will never leave us and are, when harnessed, an intimate and inexhaustible source of creation.
"What they criticize you for, cultivate it; it’s you." – Jean Cocteau
My English feature film screenplay, "The Stagemaster", has just advanced to the semi-finals of the Emerging Screenwriters Drama competition!
This fourth U.S. accolade puts me in the top 6% of screenplays on Coverfly.
Another Surprise Culture Night!
I've mentioned before that I sometimes go listen to poetry in a cellar. Well, completely by chance, I stumbled upon the host of those evenings in another cellar, in the midst of a performance.
I was blown away by her energy, confidence, and humor. It's funny, touching, offbeat, but always kind-hearted. Her latest music video is available here. And here's another one with a bit of French in it (Sophia Lucia is American but lives in France):
You should also spend more time in cellars. It's (literally) where the underground scene is at. And it all starts here --> Freakshowcabaret
Meanwhile, quietly, I'm making progress on the post-production of Panic in Space:
Post-production can be quite solitary, but now that the Film des Ponts is finished, I'm focusing on this. The first six episodes are heading to festivals, and we're searching for a distributor. Any ideas?