Thanks to friends of friends who are connected to the Berlinale, (the Berlin Film Festival), I got to spend a couple of days being let into films that otherwise I might never have had a chance to see. It's fun all that hustle and bustle, red carpets galore and the pushing and shoving to get into the most hotly tipped screenings. There are a lot of films dealing with serious issues of childhood in harsh circumstances, Jewish Russians in Israel, in "Love and Dance", Hitler in "Mein Führer", the concentration camps in "The Counterfeiters". In fact, aside from the run of Andy Warhol related films, and the semi-pornographic, of which more in a minute, there seemed a lot of films about Jewish ness and the Holocaust. Is that because it was held here in Berlin or is the Zeitgeist settled on this at the moment? Oh yes semi-pornographic. There was a film called "Fucking Different New York" which I imagined to be an amusing film about New York. No. It wasn't adjectival but descriptive, what was on the label was the content, i.e. thirteen separate episodes of gay and lezzy fucking combos as documentary, rather sad, exploitative, quite sordid, as art, as wild porno, as comic strip humour and one of narrative. This one was based on a quote from Marilyn Monroe's autobiography where she said that once she had had sex with Joan Crawford and that afterwards Joan Crawford had wanted repeats, but when Marilyn refused, Joan had got spiteful. So it begins with a typewriter with the Arthur Miller writing the story of what transpired. Marilyn being fragile posing for photographers while "The Misfits" is being filmed. Joan Crawford turning up, Arthur Miller looking through the keyhole. Fantasy lezzy sex. Joan driving off. Marilyn posing fanning herself to cool down. The End. So kinda cute, but on the whole not very enlightening. The Marilyn Monroe look-alike was more successful than the Joan Crawford look-alike.
Keeping up the glamour, apart from the actual film, (above), we dinnered afterwards around the corner from the Sony Centre at the Ritz Hotel in their Brasserie Desbrosses which is mightily stylish with wonderful atmosphere and cooking. Since I had to go through the rigmarole of no wheat, no flour and so on they let me know what I could eat and what they could adapt from the menu as most places do now – so "Sex and the City" isn't it? – Fish soup in a tureen, no croutons, calves liver, no Berliner gravy sauce, mashed potatoes. But then they, on their own, brought a basket of gluten-free bread to the table for me. How excellent is that? At the end of the meal they wrapped up the remaining bread so I could take it home, (and toast it for a breakfast). Beyond a dream.
