Joni Mitchell's Blue - my new musical love

Blue is everything I could ask from an album: sensitive, soft-sounding but emotional, with a lush, reckless naked vulnerability in both the sonority and the lyrics. It's romantic and disillusioned, joyful and melancholy. It's ten tiny stars burning themselves high into my heart. I am still in the process of savouring it, listening time after time to absorb the texture, the personality and the feelings, and I am sure that the way I think about it will change, but for now I would say it is about the fine line between loving the taste of life, and feeling tired and alone inside of it; about the battle between hope and despair, or fantasy and reality. It is a delicate beauty.

This is the title track, hope you enjoy it!

Brave

In a similar note to my last post, some thoughts on another delightful animation film about a young woman finding her strengths and growing up in a vibrant fantasy setting - Pixar's Brave. 

I took my sister and my cousins to watch it at the cinema (we have a kind of tradition of watching Pixar films together), and it was lovely getting to share with them the interesting and motivating ideas which this film explores. It was also a chance to spend some time talking, and it makes me feel very proud and happy to see them grow into their own people, gaining their independence, exploring new aspects of the world, and shaping up their personality.  

Brave's themes made it perfect to watch together. Like most/all Pixar films, it is not really aimed at children: the theme of growing up and finding your personal space and freedom while preserving your family relationships, and the conflicts and misunderstandings that inevitably occur in that process, become relatable and relevant only in your teens. Besides, the delightful cultural references to the Middle Ages and to Scotland (the actors' accents are so endearing and the scenery is so beautiful it really made me want to visit!) would, I suspect, go over most kids' heads. On the other hand, these mature aspects benefit from being explored in such gorgeous, lively animation and with a child-like sense of wonder and heightened action and emotion.

I loved the development of the mother-daughter relationship at the core of the story, which is very much true to real life. The frustrating bickering mother-daughter arguments lead in a subtle, progressive way to a relationship of equals who are willing to compromise and seek mutual understanding on a basis of love. Both Merida and the Queen change and grow, while the King and the Princes complete this family dynamic. Supporting characters are mostly there for colour and cultural background, excelling in this purpose. I never cease to be amazed at how animators manage to capture so much of what being human looks like/is (are they the same thing?).

In the end - after laughing, (almost) crying, and being on the edge of your seat - you are left with an uplifting and sincere message: we are free to grow and develop as individuals, but it takes bravery and support to do so. We should take pleasure from both these elements, for determination and love are all that can lead us to become more complete as human beings.

Spirited Away

Spirited Away - the animated story of a young girl who finds herself in a bizarre world of gods, witches, and dragons, with her parents transformed in pigs - is every bit as kooky and delightful as you would expect from the numerous awards it won. The story is classical in tone and nature, interweaving a variety of rich influences - Japanese myths, classical epic tales, Alice in Wonderland - and ideas in an exciting adventure which has a lot to say about growing up and developing your own strength. It is not fluffy and saccharine in tone, much to the contrary: it shows how hard and scary finding yourself on your own in unknown land can be, but also how exhilarating and fascinating it becomes when you learn how to manage by yourself. Accordingly, the images vary between disturbing and nightmare-like (seriously, I thought some scenes were very scary, I'm glad I didn't watch this as a small kid) and breathtaking, like a postcard from paradise. The stills don't really do justice to just how beautiful this film is - a feast for the eyes if there ever was one - but I can't resist leaving you with a few which give you a small taste of the poetry, humor and sensibility of this great film.

'Life may be not only meaningless but absurd.'

I spent the last week away in the countryside with my family, which is something we do every year. I am not very sure that I like the countryside anymore. The scenery is different from what I - a lifelong suburbanite - am used to; it makes me feel, as a human being, smaller and more insignificant, because the marks of human life are few, feeble and distant from each other. Of course I am conscious of our tininess in space and time - our size is an issue of scale, and compared to the Universe we are invisible specks, while compared to atoms we are unimaginable universes in ourselves -, but being confronted with it is always a shock. 

We forget our proportion. We pretend we are immortal. We cannot face a world without our selves in it, for obvious reasons: the self is our perspective into the world. Non-existence - the empty void, unfathomable by nature - scares us, so we pretend.

In fact, we must delude our selves to create a meaning for our lives, and we do so everyday. But there is no greater meaning: our lives are self-contained. In acquiring knowledge, we can never jump out of our own heads; similarly, our personal identity is circumscribed to a specific area of space and time, and it cannot transcend it. 

The impact of our action is exterior to our selves, so the idea of achieving immortality by leaving things behind - children, books, structures, progress for humanity - is just another delusion. Furthermore, it is an unsatisfactory one: not only does it exclude perception and action and all the things which make living worthwhile (as Woody Allen famously put it, 'I don't want to achieve immortality though my work... I want to achieve it through not dying.'), but also leads to the question 'What is the point of that (our impact in the future of other people), then?' in an infinite regress.

Religious people answer with God. God is, by definition, the final answer: subject and object united, containing its own purpose and end in itself. I am not going to argue against the traditional arguments for the existence of God (if you want a very strong and clear refutation of the most important ones, you'll find it in Simon Blackburn's Think), so I will just point out two ideas. 

First, this 'rational' conception of God is equivalent to choosing an arbitrary point to pause the regress - why there, then? Why not stop before employing that obscure notion of a divine presence, which is unnecessary to explain the Universe? 

Secondly, this idea of God is very hazy, so much that it is generally interpreted by believers as a matter of emotion. Its features are blank, for it is just a dummy which each culture colours according to its body if beliefs, rules and habits (as can be seen from the multiplicity of religions that exist). And who can claim to truly understand or perceive the 'rational' conception of God? A nothing would do just as well as a something about which nothing can be said.

Quoting Thomas Nagel in What Does It All Mean?:

"But what's the point of being alive at all?"

"There's no point. It wouldn't matter if I didn't exist at all, or if I didn't care about anything. But I do. That's all there is to it." 

If life is not real, life is not earnest, and the grave is its goal, perhaps it's ridiculous to take ourselves so seriously. On the other hand, if we can't help taking ourselves so seriously, perhaps we just have to put up with being ridiculous. Life may be not only meaningless but absurd.

 This is, by the way, one of my favourite quotations. In the end, it doesn't matter that life doesn't matter. It doesn't make any difference to what we can do. So as not to fall prey to manipulation, it is good to remember that life is both meaningless and absurd; however, the fact just does not stick to our minds because we are built to live and should, in my opinion, take the most out of it.

The Olympics.

I have been savouring the Olympics, i.e., I have been obsessively watching athletes performing at insane levels of perfection in a variety of sports. I had never had the opportunity to do so before - both in 2004 and in 2008 I was on holidays and, as far as I remember, did not have easy access to TV/internet. The ones I have followed most closely are swimming, athletics, and gymnastics; also cycling, diving, and judo (for some reason, Portuguese TV showed ALL of the judo, and, though it's not one of my favourite sports, I am now an expert on its rules).

It all started with the dazzling opening ceremony, directed by Danny Boyle (in my opinion, one of the most distinctive, diverse and interesting contemporary film directors). It was boldly British, telling their history - from natural idyll to industrial power to cultural centre - in bold, joyful strokes, and including a wide variety of cultural motifs. This very spirited attempt to blueprint Britain resulted in grand entertainment with a heart and a message. The fast succession of beautiful settings and choreographies, the accessible humour, the ability to join multiculturalism and pride in a great historical inheritance made the opening ceremony exhilarating.

In particular, I loved the tribute to the National Health System - now that it is under violent attack, an eloquent reminder that it is possibly the best idea of the 20th century is well necessary - and to literature - much like sport, making us dream and think and go further. 

Later that same night, I loved seeing the smiling athletes from all over the world proudly carrying their flags. This moment of the ceremony, which could be seen as dull, points to the beauty of the Olympics, perhaps the one event in which we get to see the diversity of people in the world and the feelings of joy, pride and achievement that all of us feel. The happiness shared by all - they are, after all, in their prime, and they have achieved greatness just by being there - makes them look otherworldly beautiful.


What I most love about the Olympics is seeing talented, passionate and hard-working individuals attempting to outdo themselves and, in the process, inspiring countless others - all in a spirit of respectful, healthy competition. Though I root for some countries - Portugal, obviously, also GB, Spain, Brazil - what I really love is having the chance to see athletes do justice to their extraordinary abilities and dedication. 


I know, of course, that there are all sorts of cynical contradictions going on in the backstage of the Olympics, but right now I just want to enjoy the ride and be inspired by these amazing athletes. Being able to share this excitement with so many other people makes me feel connected - makes me feel more human. I hope that, one day, I will be able to channel my energy in such a directed way, and achieve a measure of their beauty.

Luna, the doors are open You could not burn faster if you tired

Fanfarlo are brilliant - their album Reservoir is filled with joyful summery songs. Luna is probably my favourite: