16 noviembre 2010


Love Is Made Of Sky (2010)

Blue Eyes Brighton Bus Stop

Smile Like A Lemon Peel, Kiss Like A Paper Cut



12 noviembre 2010



01. 14th Street
02. What You Said
03. And Still
04. Khaki & Corduroy
05. Letters
06. California Rose
07. Wishful Thinking
08. Poor Ellen Smith
09. Bees
10. Old Downtown


18 octubre 2010



Dirección: Michael Powell
Guión: Emeric Pressburger y Roland Pertwee,
a partir de la novela de J. Storer Clouston
Fotografía: Bernard Browne
Música: Miklós Rózsa
Intérpretes: Conrad Veidt, Valerie Hobson,
Sebastian Shaw, June Duprez

Versión original en inglés, subtítulos en español

Primera colaboración entre Michael Powell y Emeric Pressburger. Al año siguiente, hicieron Contraband con la misma pareja protagonista: Conrad Veidt y Valerie Hobson.

En The Internet Archive pueden verse otras dos películas con Valerie Hobson rodadas hacia el principio y el fin de la guerra: Q Planes (1939) y The Adventures of Tartu (1943).

Cartel francés
Fuente: The Powell & Pressburger Pages


12 septiembre 2010



Fotos de Alan

Para el
Shadow Shot Sunday
de Hey Harriet


17 agosto 2010


Anastasia Khitruk, violin
Russian Philharmonic Orchestra · Dmitry Yablonsky

I. Allegro non troppo ma passionato
II. Lento cantabile
III. Allegro vivace

The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes (1970)


12 agosto 2010


All for Love (1998), con Miranda Richardson, Richard E. Grant, Jean Marc Barr y Anna Friel, a partir de la novela St. Ives, de R. L. Stevenson.

St. Ives es una de las dos novelas que empezó a escribir Stevenson en Samoa, meses antes de su muerte. Como Weir of Hermiston, transcurre, en su mayor parte, en Escocia. Este fragmento se encuentra en el capítulo X, 'The Drovers'. Saint-Yves ha escapado de la prisión del castillo de Edimburgo y atraviesa el país en compañía de dos pastores.

My itinerary is by no means clear to me; the names and distances I never clearly knew, and have now wholly forgotten; and this is the more to be regretted as there is no doubt that, in the course of those days, I must have passed and camped among sites which have been rendered illustrious by the pen of Walter Scott. Nay, more, I am of opinion that I was still more favoured by fortune, and have actually met and spoken with that inimitable author. Our encounter was of a tall, stoutish, elderly gentleman, a little grizzled, and of a rugged but cheerful and engaging countenance. He sat on a hill pony, wrapped in a plaid over his green coat, and was accompanied by a horse-woman, his daughter, a young lady of the most charming appearance. They overtook us on a stretch of heath, reined up as they came alongside, and accompanied us for perhaps a quarter of an hour before they galloped off again across the hillsides to our left. Great was my amazement to find the unconquerable Mr. Sim thaw immediately on the accost of this strange gentleman, who hailed him with a ready familiarity, proceeded at once to discuss with him the trade of droving and the prices of cattle, and did not disdain to take a pinch from the inevitable ram’s horn. Presently I was aware that the stranger’s eye was directed on myself; and there ensued a conversation, some of which I could not help overhearing at the time, and the rest have pieced together more or less plausibly from the report of Sim.

‘Surely that must be an amateur drover ye have gotten there?’ the gentleman seems to have asked.

Sim replied, I was a young gentleman that had a reason of his own to travel privately.

‘Well, well, ye must tell me nothing of that. I am in the law, you know, and tace is the Latin for a candle,’ answered the gentleman. ‘But I hope it’s nothing bad.’

Sim told him it was no more than debt.

‘Oh, Lord, if that be all!’ cried the gentleman; and turning to myself, ‘Well, sir,’ he added, ‘I understand you are taking a tramp through our forest here for the pleasure of the thing?’

‘Why, yes, sir,’ said I; ‘and I must say I am very well entertained.’

‘I envy you,’ said he. ‘I have jogged many miles of it myself when I was younger. My youth lies buried about here under every heather-bush, like the soul of the licentiate Lucius. But you should have a guide. The pleasure of this country is much in the legends, which grow as plentiful as blackberries.’ And directing my attention to a little fragment of a broken wall no greater than a tombstone, he told me for an example a story of its earlier inhabitants. Years after it chanced that I was one day diverting myself with a Waverley Novel, when what should I come upon but the identical narrative of my green-coated gentleman upon the moors! In a moment the scene, the tones of his voice, his northern accent, and the very aspect of the earth and sky and temperature of the weather, flashed back into my mind with the reality of dreams. The unknown in the green-coat had been the Great Unknown! I had met Scott; I had heard a story from his lips; I should have been able to write, to claim acquaintance, to tell him that his legend still tingled in my ears. But the discovery came too late, and the great man had already succumbed under the load of his honours and misfortunes.

Presently, after giving us a cigar apiece, Scott bade us farewell and disappeared with his daughter over the hills. And when I applied to Sim for information, his answer of ‘The Shirra, man! A’body kens the Shirra!’ told me, unfortunately, nothing.


08 agosto 2010



01. What's the Deal?
02. No Frills Friend
03. Baby, You're the One
04. Hell to Pay
05. Pretty Things to Buy
06. Don't String Me Along
07. Say It Isn't So
08. Dreaming's Killing Me
09. Thank God for the Wine
10. Beautiful Night
11. Completely Yours
12. Hanging on a Moment
13. Moonlight on the Mountains


20 junio 2010


Algunos limericks de Edward Lear:

There was an Old Man with a beard,
Who said, 'It is just as I feared! -
Two Owls and a Hen,
Four Larks and a Wren,
Have all built their nests in my beard!'

There was a Young Lady whose bonnet
Came untied when the birds sate upon it;
But she said, 'I don't care!
All the birds in the air
Are welcome to sit on my bonnet!'

There was a Young Lady of Hull,
Who was chased by a virulent bull;
But she seized on a spade,
And called out, 'Who's afraid?'
Which distracted that virulent bull.

Algunos limericks anónimos:

There was a young lady of Riga,
Who went for a ride on a tiger:
They returned from the ride
With the lady inside
And a smile on the face of the tiger.

There was an old party of Lyme
Who married three wives at one time.
When asked: 'Why the third?'
He replied: 'One's absurd,
And bygamy, sir, is a crime.'

There was a young man from Japan
Whose limericks never would scan;
When they said it was so,
He replied, 'Yes, I know,
But I always try to get as many words into the last line as I possibly can.'

Un grupo lo forman los limericks intelectuales, mezcla de absurdo y ciencia. Los dos primeros ejemplos son anónimos, el tercero de Ogden Nash:


There was a young lady named Bright,
Who travelled much faster than light,
She started one day
In the relative way,
And returned on the previous night.

Mind and Matter

There was a faith-healer of Deal,
Who said, 'Alhtough pain isn't real,
If a sit on a pin
And it punctures my skin,
I dislike waht I fancy I feel.'

Ultimate reality

There was an old man in a trunk,
Who inquired of his wife, 'Am I drunk?'
She replied with regret,
'I'm afraid so, my pet.'
And he answered, 'It's just as I thunk.'

Algunos limericks que escribí:

'A man needs a maid',
Old grandmamma said,
'That can stand
On her hand,
And play with her plaid.'

There was a young creature named Puck,
Who climbed to the bookcase and took
From a tale two pages.
The king said, 'Outrageous,
That Puck has confounded my book!'

There was a small boy from Khartun,
Who constantly hummed the same tune.
The Emperor said,
'Go bring me the head
Of that humming boy from Khartun!'


02 junio 2010


It was about three years afterwards that one early morning, dressed for school, I came downstairs before anyone else and for some reason looked at the photograph attentively, realising with dismay that I wasn't like it any longer. I remembered the dress she was wearing, so much prettier than anything I had now, but the curls, the dimples surely belonged to somebody else. The eyes were a stranger's eyes. The forefinger of her right hand was raised as if in warning. She had moved after all. Why I didn't know, she wasn't me any longer. It was the first time I was aware of time, change and the longing for the past. I was nine years of age.


The only time I went back to Dominica, long afterwards, I was told I must have a guide to visit Geneva.

I thought, 'A guide to Geneva for me? How ridiculous!' However there was a guide, we went quickly by car and he seemed to know exactly where to take me. Where the house had been was an empty space, the Geneva house was burnt down two, or was it three, times. I stared at it trying to remember the house, the garden, the honey-suckle and the jasmine and the tall fern trees.

But there was nothing, nothing. Nothing to look at. Nothing to say. Even the mounting stone had gone.

When we got to the river I bent down and sipped from it. I was very thirsty and perhaps had some vague, superstitious idea that if I drank the water I'd come back. The guide caught my arm and said, 'Don't drink that. It's very dirty now. You'd be ill if you drank it.'

How many times had I drank from that river when I was thirsty? There are supposed to be three hundred and sixty-five rivers in the island, one for every day of the year. Where they all dirty?

Yes, he seemed to think they were all very dirty indeed. 'Very dirty, not like you remember it.'

No, it wasn't as I remembered it.

Fue unos tres años después cuando cierta mañana, temprano, vestida para la escuela, bajé antes que nadie y por alguna razón miré la fotografía atentamente, y advertí consternada que yo ya no era así. Recordaba el vestido que ella llevaba, mucho más bonito que nada de lo que ahora tenía, pero los rizos, los hoyuelos seguramente pertenecían a otra persona. Los ojos eran ojos de una desconocida. El dedo índice de la mano derecha estaba levantado como en advertencia. Después de todo, se había movido. Por qué no lo sabía, ella había dejado de ser yo. Era la primera vez que fui consciente del tiempo, el cambio y la añoranza por el pasado. Tenía nueve años.


La única vez que regresé a Dominica, mucho más tarde, me dijeron que debía acompañarme un guía en la visita a Geneva.

Pensé: “¿Un guía en Geneva para ? ¡Qué ridículo!” No obstante hubo un guía, fuimos rápidamente en coche y parecía saber con exactitud a dónde llevarme. Donde estaba la casa había un espacio vacío. La casa de Geneva se había incendiado dos, o quizá fueran tres, veces. Fijé la mirada tratando de recordar la casa, el jardín, la madreselva y el jazmín y los altos árboles de helecho.

Pero no había nada, nada. Nada que mirar. Nada que decir. Incluso los peldaños de piedra de la entrada habían desaparecido.

Cuando llegamos al río me incliné y bebí de él. Estaba sedienta y quizá tenía la idea inconcreta, supersticiosa de que si bebía el agua regresaría. El guía me cogió del brazo y dijo:

–No beba de ahí. Está muy sucia ahora. Si la bebe, enfermará.

¿Cuántas veces había bebido en ese río cuando tenía sed? Se dice que hay trescientos sesenta y cinco ríos en la isla, uno para cada día del año. ¿Estaban todos sucios?

Sí, le parecía que estaban todos muy sucios de verdad.

–Muy sucios, no como usted lo recuerda.

No, no era como yo lo recordaba.

Jean Rhys, Smile Please
Traducción de Alan


11 mayo 2010


Schulhoff and son

Aviv Quartet

01. Alla Valse Viennese
02. Alla Serenata
03. Alla Czeca
04. Alla Tango Milonga
05. Alla Tarantella


10 mayo 2010



21 abril 2010


Hace un tiempo un lector del blog puso en La Canción de Prévert un enlace a este disco, gracias! aquí está de nuevo.


01. Village of Love
02. My Last Dance with You
03. Leave Me Alone
04. My Little Darling
05. I Had a Dream
06. From Now On
07. Hurting Love
08. Work It Out
09. My Lonely Island
10. A Place I Know
11. Well, I've Got News for You
12. I'm Not Gonna Cry
13. Going Back to the Village of Love
14. Lover Please
15. I Want Love and Affection
16. Summertime
17. Mr. Santa Claus
18. Don't Come Back
19. Where Will You Be?
20. King of Paradise
21. I Want a Woman


15 abril 2010


Benjamin Frankel compuso esta obra en memoria del clarinetista Frederick (Jack) Thurston. La dedicatoria dice: "For Thea Thurston, to Jack". Aquí está interpretada por la alumna y esposa de Thurston, Thea King.

Thea King (clarinet)
The Britten String Quartet

01. Moderato
02. Alla burla
03. Lento di molto

Wyndham Lewis 
Girl Seated (Gladys Anne Hoskyns)


01 abril 2010


Bibi, l’ombre et le reflet
Hendaya, agosto 1927

Florette, 1944

Renée Perle, 1930

Eden Roc, Cabo de Antibes, agosto 1932
Durante el rodaje de Les aventures du roi Pausole (1933)

Coco, Hendaya, 1934


Ascoli Piceno, 1958

Florette en Megève, marzo 1965

Florette dans la Morgan
Provenza, mayo 1954

Florette, Vence, mayo 1954

Las manos de Florette
Brie-le-Néflier, junio 1961

Sylvana Empain en Juan-les-Pins. agosto 1961


18 marzo 2010



01. Edoardo Vianello - Guarda come dondolo
02. Gino Paoli - La gatta
03. Rita Pavone - Solo tu
04. Edoardo Vianello - Tremarella
05. Neil Sedaka - La terza luna
06. Gianni Morandi - Ho chiuso le finestre
07. Nico Fidenco - Just the Same Old Line
08. Edoardo Vianello - Parlami di te
09. Little Tony - Ogni mattina
10. I Rokes - C'è una strana espressione nei tuoi occhi
11. Gino Paoli - Sassi
12. Nico Fidenco - Su nel cielo
13. Miranda Martino - Erano nuvole
14. Edoardo Vianello - Ma guardatela
15. Little Tony - Quando vedrai la mia ragazza
16. Rita Pavone - Sul cucuzzolo
17. Edoardo Vianello - Siamo due esquimese
18. Rocky Roberts - Stasera mi butto
19. Bobby Solo - Non c'è più niente da fare
20. Wilma Goich - Ho capito che ti amo