Book the Days with Films
News from a die-hard film lover, faster and more helpful than the official website at least:
...the booking brochure of the HK International Film Festival would be available on 1st March, Wednesday (sometime in the afternoon after the Press Conference). You can start booking your tickets on 3rd March.
For your reference, the Super Value Pass costs HK$1,500- this year, and the VIP Pass HK$3,500-
His Holiness on Holy Land
When Adi told me that he was about to listen to the Dalai Lama's lecture, I thought he was in Dharamsala after my own
pilgrimage. But in fact he was still in Tel Aviv, answering my SMS that there was no need to worry about drinking water which I suggested. Then I found the
news about the spiritual leader's visit in Israel. Unlike what my friend had once argued with me that the "oriental way" could hardly apply to their national situation because of the difference of culture and history, I am quite glad to read on their media:
A nonviolent religion is such a rarity that the Dalai Lama's willingness to influence the world through it, rather than just lobbying for Tibet, makes him a figure to be respected and followed. (from Haaretz)
And even more joyful that my friend found him amazing after the lecture.
Life and Exam of the History Boys
The brilliant thing about
Alan Bennett's
The History Boys is not what I would have expected from reading the
festival brochure. I almost missed this charming modern classic if it's not Jessica who suggested we should talk in our next radio programme about the first presentation by The National Theatre of Britain in Hong Kong ever.
I thought it's because of my own immersion in the set-up of the School of Creativity and its challenges of mapping the desirable path that gave me the resonance from the tension between Hector and Irwin, the two emblematic teachers in the play. The former humanistic and affectionate, and the latter pragmatic yet inspiring. In fact, most of my (some very demanding) friends not in the field felt the same profound and intriguing feeling and reflections on the tension between education and self-fulfillment.
The particularity and non-stereotypical details of the characters gave them heart and blood, of course, thanks to the witty script which shares quite some authentic experiences of Bennett himself during those old days when he was put to prepare for the Cambridge. Also the excellence of the actualization by a dozen of good performers, including the naasty uncle (in Harry Potter),
Richard Griffiths. The language is not easy for an realistic style, incorporating poems, condensed connotations, ironies and references, lines from classic films, historical facts, songs, etc. But the outcome is still natural and affecting. When compared with
David Mamet's Orleana, the distinctive styles of both are immediately standing out.
One regret is about the use of video though it did fill out the (possibly interrupting) scene changes and gave the piece a complete flow with nice rhythm. But the possibilities of its role are limited by this very motivation to fill gaps.
Wait for the
film version! I was told 8 pages of waiting list are still intact.
Credit: photo by Ivan Kyncl (from the
National Theatre of Britain)
Site of Creativity
Coming back from the Lunar New Year holiday, colleague K has uploaded the
photos we took during the Launching Ceremony of the School of Creativity. After years of planning, it might be the moment when hopes were most overwhelming, though in sight there was merely a land worse than bare (where Eno's shoes sank and changed colour). That was the brightest day before the holiday and is still charming.
If you are intrigued to see the result of the
two graffiti events, come
here, or go there.
The first booklet designed by Freeman Lau was just out. And the website will be there very soon. New start is always exciting, despite the works implied, and more ahead. Small information is updated on
ICC's web.
Midnight Bird
An unfamiliar corner over the ocean
there has been a loud strike unheard.
The sensing machine seems arrested,
in a moment imperfect,
with the quieting crowd of birds.
Dark is their colour, also mad,
and now so is a history -
like a city engulfed too deft,
in dirt.
A palace lost twice in words
well, we had it simply be read.
Leave it for another (day)dream
of an unnamed flaneur,
despite it seems too blurred.
Muddled in tears? Uncertainties?
or a reality too intimate, hur?
No, no, no. For the temperature
of a mutually learnt gesture,
is long captured.
I am now one of those crows
suspended in the night sky.
Pretending to be any bird,
though without its culture,
it's ready to take the height.
Cause what we conversed
7 persimmons and moons ago
made the secret beating occur,
again. What lies behind,
will never be hurt,
I'm sure.
20 Beans + A Box (art group)
Squidfingers (Pattern, adjusted)