culture

Another Surprise Culture Night!

By day, Alexandre is an editor and director whom I met when he came to work for ChezFilms.

Culture night was less of a surprise this time since I had made reservations.

There's something for scientists as well as beatniks. The common theme: reality isn't what you think. Let's dive in.

New surprise cultural evening (SCE, new acronym).

I don't go there often, but every time I do, I emerge transformed.

I unexpectedly went to the theater last night and saw "Contre-Temps" by Samuel Sené. Fantastic!

Two films about feminism and coming of age, where the first thirty minutes made me wonder, "Are they really going to make an entire movie out of this?"

During this holiday season, a song that celebrates love. (Not the possessive and sentimental love of American romantic comedies, but the pure and immediate love of Eastern wisdom.)

Lately, I've been going back to the theater.

Yeah, I don't know what's gotten into me! Probably the onset of depression.

I returned to Squat 59 Rivoli by chance.

Before, I used to joke that only my mom read this blog.

Recently, I got proof that not even she does.

At the Franciscaines to work. I see there's an immersive installation starting in 5 minutes.

I've decided not to renew my subscription to the New York Times and New Yorker to see how it feels. Not to get stuck in my reading habits and discover new avenues.

I liked the play so much that I did a quick recording of it. Excerpt:

I'm keeping the English title because the French translation - as is often the case with self-help books - seems to have been written by the traveling quack who sells mercury potions in Little Hous

Going to see the plays of my actor buddies when I was in acting school disgusted me with broke theater, or even theater altogether.

As is often the case, I bought this book by chance because I opened it in the middle and one sentence caught my eye.

Of course, you've known about this song for ages. Because you guys are cool.

So I'm summarizing:

To get away from Six Feet Under, The Wire, Mad Men, or The West Wing for a bit, there's a series I had stumbled upon that blew my mind. I watched it again this week and it transported me again.

I burst out laughing at this clip from the Netflix documentary The Mask by Olivier Bouchara and Jérôme Pierrat about the Gilbert Chikli phone sc

I stopped watching the first episode of Wednesday half way through. (I tried to go to the end, I promise, I even stopped then resumed it).

Excerpts from films I've written and directed:

When in Marrakech, I found myself at an exhibition called A Moroccan Winter, showing paintings by Majorelle and his contemporar