Rubato

I'm currently teaching one of my granddaughters to play the piano.  At this stage you spend a lot of time getting the pupil to play in time, that is, making sure they understand the relationship of each note to another in an almost a mathematical sense.  One crochet has to be as long as another crochet, a semibreve has to be held the length of four crochets and so forth.  It's all very relative.  With a fast piece the crochet is shorter than it is in the slow piece, and as a longstanding player of music, you take this for granted, often failing to realise that it's not as obvious to a pupil as it is to you.

And as time goes on, and children play more complicated music, you begin to teach them that the first crochet isn't necessarily quite as long as the second crochet, or vice versa, because you give more emphasis to one than the other.  And that one bar may be stretched out longer than the previous one, even though they're both strictly speaking the same length.  I've just been practicising a piece for the Brass Band competitions with a cornet player, and of course there are different 'speeds' for different sections (meaning that the crochets, for instance, aren't the same length in the fast section as they are in the slow) but even within the sections, notes are stretched, sped up and generally twisted according to the mood of the piece at that point.  Music is actually hugely fluid, and this is a difficult thing to teach. 

I saw a film years ago, a documentary about Isaac Stern going to China after the Cultural Revolution, called From Mao to Mozart.  There were plenty of young Chinese musicians after the Revolution, and they were playing Western music, but they had no sense of the feeling, the rubato, the shifting of pace that is common to this kind of music. Western influences in China during the Cultural Revolution were banned, and the musicians lost touch with the way the music was played.   They played strictly in time, and of course, it sounded like clockwork.  There's a time and place for this in music, but it's rare by comparison with the normality of pulling music about like plasticine.  You get to a stage in life where you never think about this, you just do it. 

As a footnote to that movie, I remember a pitiful scene in which a music teacher told us how he'd been locked in the equivalent of a cupboard for some long time during the Revolution; the Red Guard did horrific things to artists.  In spite of that, after the Revolution's worst excesses were over, he continued to teach. 

Elsa & Fred

We watched a charming Argentinian movie last night called Elsa & Fred (Elsa y Fred in the original language).  Some of the US critics didn't think that much of it, calling it too predictable.  Of course it is, but the lovely detailed performances of the two principals makes it worth seeing, and anyway, the American studios must have thought it worth something as they've remade it in English, with Christopher Plummer and Shirley MacLaine.  It will be a vastly different movie, and the subtle and delightful playing of the Argentinian actress, China Zorilla, will probably be replaced by MacLaine's particular brand of brashness.  Time will tell. 

Anyway, the story is simple enough: an old man, recently widowed (seven months before), moves into an apartment opposite an old woman who has been widowed twenty-seven years before (or perhaps it's twenty-three - or perhaps, as we discover, she wasn't widowed at all).  Elsa is a vibrant woman with a mind of her own (she is perfectly capable of handling her control freak of a son) and she quickly decides she has time for a last fling before she dies.  Fred, played by Manuel Alexandre, isn't so sure.  His married life has been very 'tidy', and everything he tells Elsa about himself she pronounces to have been more like death than life.  But the relationship does develop, in spite of Fred's qualms, and in spite of their various children's disbelief.   If Elsa's older son is controlling (her other son, an artist, is a bit of a sponger), Fred's daughter is a nightmare.  The opening scene has her installing Fred in his new apartment, and everything is put in place according to her plans, not his.  She is venomous, and not a lady easily crossed; her husband has a perpetual downtrodden look about him. 

We delight to see Fred coming alive, but he's not the only we see differently as time goes on.  It turns out there is some good reason behind the concerns of both Elsa's son and Fred's daughter.  I was surprised by the turn of events about three-quarters of the way through the movie, anyway.  I said to my wife, I hope this doesn't all end in tears (too many good films seem to; I must be up for happy endings these days).  This film manages to avoid the tears, even though people are forced to face things more honestly than before.  Furthermore, there's an ongoing genuineness about the love between the couple that overcomes the difficulties.  

The film made us laugh out loud in several places - unusual in a comedy watched at home on a DVD.  Most of the laughs were the result of lines delivered by Zorilla, and her subtle changes of expression.  A hugely experienced actress (she was 83 at the time the movie was made) with more than fifty plays behind her and well as roles in thirty movies and various television productions.   Alexandre was 88 when he made the movie.  Unlike Zorilla, he is a Spaniard, born in Madrid and has performed in nearly a hundred movies.  This film is set in Madrid in fact, where it seems that being an Argentinian makes you something of a peasant.  Fred's daughter refers to Elsa two or three times as 'that Argentinian woman' as though it was something despised. 

A genuine surprise of a movie.  

What Facebook is

Graham Murkett has produced a delightful outline of 'what Facebook is' from the perspective of his alter ego: some grey bloke, or somegreybloke, if you want to be more precise.
This is a very basic cartoon showing a guy sitting in front of his computer, and the only thing that changes is his expression as he narrates his relationship with Facebook.
Beautifully done, simple, and quite hilarious.