Old Ways, Old Days

This is turning out to be a really good week. My lovely daughter has been with me for a couple of days before she returns to Geneva, which has been great fun. We went to see a film one evening: Love In The Time Of Cholera which was possibly the worst film I’ve ever seen – made worse by the fact that it was actually masquerading as a clever film. How wrong it is. It is (very) badly scripted; (very) badly acted; and (very) sloppily directed. In truth, it might be a bit unfair to say it was badly acted because with such a weak script and such shabby direction, what were the poor actors supposed to do? Someone in charge of this debacle presumably thought that stunning shots of the Amazon basin and a few bits of evocative music thrown in was all that was needed to save the picture – it wasn’t.

By contrast (almost) was Chabrol’s latest offering which we saw yesterday: L’Ivresse du Pouvoir, badly translated as The Comedy of Power. Clearly designed as a vehicle for Isabelle Huppert’s inimitable talent, it did its job admirably. It’s a very French flm in as much as we are (as usual) denied any real dramatic action, but the acting and sexual tension were inversely proportional. That is to say that the acting was out of the box; the sexual tension, typically understated. This film is in danger of slipping into the realm of having defrauded us, but narrowly manages (just) to cling on to the roots of credibility.

Anyway, my other daughter is now joining us at the weekend. This is a remarkable achievement – they’re so very rarely both in this country at the same time that’s it’s a real treat. We’re celebrating my father’s birthday at the weekend too – we’ll all be having a meal in an hotel (he’s paying!) and it will be rare occasion for all the family to be together. I think there are about twenty-two of us in total.

I had a visit from the stray cat last night – he just walked in out of the blue and started purring loudly. I don’t know where he’s been all this time but someone has been looking after him because he’s put on weight and is now all sleek and glossy. I’d forgotten how nice it is to stroke a cat when you’re lonely, especially this one. Anyway, he walked out this morning and goodness knows if I'll see him again.

Today’s Horace: Clogged with yesterday's excess, the body drags the mind down with it. Too right!