June 29^th, 2016

STRANGE SHORE: Edinburgh, Scotland.

SUNDRY LAND: United Kingdom

WANDERING WAY: Scottish Peregrinations – Goodbye to Edinburgh

There are so many strange shores and sundry lands that I’ll be visiting this summer... it only seems right to give each its due. As I fly, train, or bus away, I’ll gaze back wistfully and reflect on all the fun I’ve had. For each strange and sundry locale, I’ll compile a list of my favorites and bests so that if you should ever visit, you might partake and think, “Ah me, Sharon wuz here.”

Favorite Entertainment – Cameo Cinema for “Roman Holiday”

According to Time Out Edinburgh, Cameo Cinema is “supposedly one of Quentin Tarantino’s favourite cinemas” – a dodgy piece of reporting, but I suppose Time Out couldn’t get the maestro on the phone to confirm. That supposed recommendation, however, was enough for me to travel down the university district to catch a “Vintage Sunday” screening of “Roman Holiday,” dir. Willaim Wyler based on the original story by the blacklisted Dalton Trumbo. For the benefit of my brother Mark, a film buff if there ever was one, I took plenty of pictures of this charming movie shrine, which originally opened its doors on January 8^th, 1914 as the “King’s Cinema."

 Here is the lobby where they sold obligatory buttery popcorn as well as healthy snacks that even I could eat. Glory be, I ate my favorite flapjack of all time. (If you’re not acquainted with British flapjacks, I heartily suggest following this link: (http://britishfood.about.com/od/eorecipes/r/Fruit-And-Nut-Flapjack-Recipe.htm) My flapjack was the flapjack to end all flapjacks.

At the cinema’s bar, you could buy delicious lunch, wine, or beer –  that’s right, “I’m talking about a glass of beer” (quote by Vincent from Pulp Fiction), but most people seemed to be sitting around drinking coffee and typing on laptops. The cinema bar also features a play-corner for children, and a little tyke hammered away at a Fisher Price “Tappin’ Beats Bench” with great gusto. Good for him.

In the movie theatre itself, the atmosphere was so tranquil that I didn’t dare take photos for fear that the flash would interrupt the zen-like concentration of the patrons. In one delightful innovation, red velvet single seats were interspersed with red velvet loveseats for couples, meaning that thoughtful introverts and extroverted lovebirds were all welcomed but discretely siphoned into different areas – just as it should be. All these plush seats leaned back to afford even greater contemplation or canoodling, depending on the patron’s mood that evening. 

Now, I reserved my ticket to see “Roman Holiday” before I left the States – an unnecessary precaution on that sleepy Sunday afternoon – and long, long before the English (not Scottish) populace voted to leave the European Union on June 22^nd. So I couldn’t have predicted that “Roman Holiday” would provide such a timely commentary on the effort to unite Europe with the hope of providing a more stable future after World War II, but there you go. Either the fates are my friends, or the film programmers of Cameo Cinema have uncanny prescience. “Roman Holiday” debuted in 1953, approximately four years before the signing of the Treaty of Rome (signed March 25^th, 1957), which established European Economic Community in 1958. Thirty-five years later, the European Union would be established with the signing of the Treaty of Maastricht in 1993. “Roman Holiday,” quite unexpectedly, prompts one to reflect back on the nascent European Union when it was still a glint in Audrey Hepburn’s eye. 

For those who haven’t seen the film – and if this is the sad case, I would recommend rectifying this giant chasm in your knowledge forthwith – “Roman Holiday” relates a fable about a beautiful European princess (from an unidentified country that the film quickly establishes is not Britain, The Netherlands, France, or Italy in the opening sequence) on a “goodwill tour of European capitals”. Although Princess Ann looks luminous because she is played by Ms. Hepburn in her first film role (for which she won the Academy Award), this poor girl is actually suffering from an acute case of exhaustion, brought about by her hectic schedule of making public appearances, delivering speeches, and looking fabulous. One night in Rome, she slips away incognito for a bit of air, not realizing the full effects of a drug administered by her own physician earlier that evening. At a guess, the drug appears to be an early form of the benzodiazepine sedative that would later be developed into Rohypnol in 1970s. Although the doctor assures her that the drug will only “relax” her and make her feel “a little happy,” the film starts with Audrey Hepburn being blasted out of her mind. Awesome.  

And so, Princess Ann ends up sleeping on a picturesque Roman bench, and the most handsome news correspondent of all time (played by Gregory Peck) happens to stop by the bench on the way home from losing at his weekly poker game. Through a series of hijinks, which I won’t spoil, the reporter Joe discovers that Ann is a princess; Ann pretends she is not a princess; Joe pretends he is not a news reporter and plays along with her charade in order to get a profitable scoop about an undercover princess; then they fall in love in under twenty-four hours. Under the light of the Roman sun and moon, there is no point at which any of these occurrences seem even vaguely improbable.

The dramatic crux arrives when Ann announces she must leave Joe. Despite their passionate love, which is never less than heartbreaking, Ann is “completely aware of [her] duty” to her family and country. They part awash in tears, but the question remains: Will Joe break faith and exploit their romance to publish the juiciest tabloid story of the 1950s?

Fast-forward to the wrenching final scene as Princess Ann and Joe face each other in full knowledge of their respective identities; he is a reporter in a pressroom full of reporters hoping to get a word with the stunning princess. Ann and Joe are barely holding themselves together as they strive to play-act the roles society has assigned. Instead of rushing into Joe’s arms like some stupid remake would have her do, Princess Ann articulates her political hopes for the future, the hopes for which she’s abandoned a man played by GREGORY PECK in his prime. When asked by an anonymous correspondent about the possibility of a “European Federation,” Ann delivers an inspirational speech about faith, friendship, and cooperation:

“AMERICAN CORRESPONDENT [speaking from the crowd]: Does Your Highness believe that Federation would be a possible solution to Europe’s economic problems?

ANN. I am in favour of any measure which would lead to closer cooperation in Europe.

CORRESPONDENT. And what, in the opinion of Your Highness, is the outlook for Friendship Among Nations?

ANN. I have every faith in it – [pausing; turning to look at Joe] as I have faith in relations between people [the people on the stage around her look about, slightly baffled; the press gathering stirs slightly].

JOE. May I say, speaking from my own press service, we believe that Your Highness’s faith will not be unjustified.

ANN [looking at Joe; smiling very slightly to him] I am so glad to hear you say it.”

Even for a romantic story about a runaway princess, the optimism expressed in this last scene is staggering. The film assures us:

               

1.  A political leader will eschew personal desires for the public welfare.

2.  An enlightened politician will have “every faith” in friendship between nations.

3.  An enlightened politician would be correct in placing her faith in a hungry reporter.

4.  Said reporter will never betray the faith of his world-famous, twenty-four-hour paramour for a major scoop. Not ever.

Now, I said it was a fable, but this clear-eyed film makes all of these premises seem absolutely believable. Only actors as doe-eyed as Audrey Hepburn and as forthright as Gregory Peck could have pulled off this particular feat of movie acting, but then there’s more. The film pulls together the nations of Europe (in the form of a long line of news correspondents) to shake the princess’s hand, and all while she’s bidding goodbye to her beloved in order to achieve future cooperation in Europe. A simulacrum of a globalized European Union appears before our very eyes.

It is understood that her sacrifice has already fostered a new sense of friendship among nations:

AMERICAN CORRESPONDENT. Hitchcock, Chicago Daily News.

ANN [as she shakes his hand] I’m so happy to see you, Mr. Hitchcock.

AMERICAN CORRESPONDENT. Thank you. Princess Ann walks along to meet the next one.

EUROPEAN CORRESPONDENT. [bowing slightly] Scanziani de la Suisse [she shakes his hand].

GERMAN CORRESPONDENT. Deutsche Presse Agend.

ANN [shaking his hand] Freut mich sehr.

FRENCH CORRESPONDENT. Maurice Montaberis, le Figaro [he bends forward, kissing her hand].

DUTCH CORRESPONDENT (Woman) [curtsies]. Amsterdam.

ANN [shaking her hand] * [the woman curtsies again]

FRENCH CORRESPONDENT. Jacques Ferris, Ici Paris.

ANN [shaking his hand] Enchanté.

ISRAELI CORRESPONDENT. Tel Aviv [he bows and shakes her hand].

SPANISH CORRESPONDENT. Cortes Cavanias, Madrid.

ANN [smiling as he kisses her hand] Encantando!

AMERICAN CORRESPONDENT. Lampel, New York Herald Tribune.

ANN. Good afternoon [she shakes his hand]

AMERICAN CORRESPONDENT. Good afternoon.

[….]

JOE [as she walks across to him] Joe Bradley, American News Service.

ANN [she shakes his hand and he smiles back, Ann with more suppressed emotion] So happy, Mr. Bradley.

CORRESPONDENT. [he bows and they shake hands. She appears to almost speak but doesn’t, moving on to the next correspondent].

ENGLISH CORRESPONDENT. Steven Hausen, The London Exchange Telegraph.

ANN [shaking his hand] Good afternoon.

FRENCH CORRESPONDENT. Agence Press [he shakes her hand].

Reaching the last of the front-row journalists, Ann turns and walks slowly up the steps. The press gathering applauds her warmly as she reaches the top, her back to them. Slowly, she turns to face them, smiling broadly to the gathering as she looks over them. Inevitably, her eyes fall to Joe. He smiles back, then her expression grows sorrowful. She manages another slight smile then turns away from them, and walks slowly and gracefully towards the exit.”

Although YouTube fans have posited alternatives to this “sad ending”, I would say that the film envisions one of the most hopeful and, yes, romantic of tableaux, a global body based on the mutual faith and respect of all nations – a federation for which an individual (or a nation) should make personal sacrifices for the good of all. In watching the film this week, I was struck by its extraordinary optimism, considering its release in 1953 – so soon after the war, but I was saddened by my retrospective reflection that Princess Ann’s sacrifice for “closer cooperation” should be proven futile in light of this week’s events. Princess Ann may be a fictional character, but should the hopes of the WWII generation be voted down? Mightn’t this generation still offer perspective on consequences that a lack of faith, friendship, and cooperation between nations may bring?

Favorite Restaurant – Mother India

                                              

Although I tried two of the fanciest restaurants in Edinburgh, TIMBERYARD (god help me) and The Gardener’s Cottage, my vote would go to Mother India, 3-5 Infirmary Street, Old Town, Edinburgh, EH1 1LT(http://www.motherindia.co.uk). The Peshwari Naan was so delicious that I could not stop eating – it was simply an impossibility – and then the haddock was (hands down) the best fish dish that I ate in Edinburgh. I ate a lot of fish in Edinburgh – remember my dietary restrictions?

Favorite View – Arthur’s Seat and Saint Anthony’s Shrine in Holyrood Park, which is to say, the view from the window of my beautiful AirBnB flat

Remember when I wrote that I was staying in a flat at 19 Waverley Park? Well, what I failed to mention is that 19 Waverley Park looks directly onto Holyrood Park, the same park that Queen Elizabeth II is probably overlooking right now, as she sits in residence at Palace of Holyrioodhouse, which is next door to the Scottish Parliament Building…and my AirBnB flat. So yeah, I had an amazing view. As someone who normally dreams of elsewhere as she looks out onto her neighbors’ apartment buildings, I can testify to the inspirational clout of the idiomatic “Room with a View”. For your own viewing pleasure, here is the park from several perspectives – every time I walked home after another fun day in Edinburgh, I always seemed to see it anew.

Favorite Bit of Street Art – Care Bear Stare! Anarchy in the UK! Together at last!

June 28^th, 2016

STRANGE SHORE: Edinburgh, Scotland.

SUNDRY LAND: United Kingdom

WANDERING WAY: Game of Thrones at “The Tron”

Before I set out on my European escapade, my friend Amanda expressed a concern: “How are you going to watch the Game of Thrones finale in Edinburgh?” My face paled as I realized my tragic scheduling snafu, and I gnashed my teeth and tore my hair. How indeed?

For Americans abroad this week, the nasty realization that any HBO NOW account is null-and-void outside the States has led to mass use of VPNs (Virtual Private Networks) and DNS Proxies to unblock that HBO goodness. Being a stickler for profits however, HBO has made efforts to crack down on its most desperate subscribers, and streaming illegal torrents isn’t for the fainthearted (like me). So what was I to do?

All was not lost! The Scots love Game of Thrones. As evidence, witness this “Bank of Scotland” advertisement featuring the dear, departed Jeor Mormont, Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, who heroically died whilst standing up to his mutinous men at Craster’s Keep in Season 3:

How nice to imagine the Lord Commander sheltering under his umbrella on holiday – I believe that the last time we encountered him on the series, his mutilated skull was being used as a drinking cup.

These “Bank of Scotland” banners are hanging everywhere in Edinburgh, and I had high hopes for a country that has supplied so many of the series’ performers: James Cosmo (above as Jeor Mormont), Rory McCann (Sandor Clegane, The Hound), Richard Madden (Robb Stark), Rose Leslie (Ygritte), and Iain Glen (Jorah Mormont). I salute the Scots for their service to Westeros!

And yes, Edinburgh didn’t fail me. A few days before the finale, a pub – The Tron – promised to screen the series finale one day late. Whew!

But sometimes a marvelous plan (like watching Game of Thrones in a jovial Scottish pub) turns out to be a little more fraught in practice. This very same Monday evening, the European Championship match between England and Iceland was blaring in every pub, living room, and public square in Edinburgh – cheers and then groans flooded the streets as the city watched England lose in a “shocking” and “humiliating” 1-to-2 defeat to Iceland, a country whose population “is roughly the size of Croydon” and whose team was ranked “133^rd in the world…only four years ago” (according to the Guardian). As in the case of the unlucky Jeor Mormont, the entire populace of the United Kingdom is calling for the team manager’s head.

It must be said, England’s really not having a good week. I fully expect zombies to invade by Sunday.

The average resident of the UK (who seems to care mightily for “football”) may have been going through dark night of the soul, but think of me! Early in the soccer match when I asked The Tron’s bartender if they’d still be showing Game of Thrones, she just looked at me with a dazed expression and returned to watching the ignominious thrashing onscreen.

A cold sweat descended. Would the pub cancel the Game of Thrones screening for a stupid sporting event? How could their priorities be so out of whack? But I’d arrived early, and so I kept my peace, resolving to take a quiet stroll until 9pm. They just had to show Game of Thrones at 9pm – they had to! Needless to say, I was starting to worry.

As I walked over cobblestone streets in twilight, listening to the moans, boos, hisses, and shrieks of horror flood every alleyway as England lost, I wondered if I was alone in this world. How could all these knuckleheads care so much about some guys kicking a ball and care so little about the ultimate fate of Daenerys’s dragons?

By five minutes to 9pm, the match had ended, and I returned to The Tron. They were showing replays – replays! – and a bunch of haggard old men were looking into their pint glasses. With my last scrap of hope, I returned to the bar to ask with a tremulous voice, “Are you still showing Game of Thrones tonight?” Totally downcast, the bartender managed to raise her head long enough to say, “It’s downstairs.”

I sprinted down the stairs with only two minutes left, and I found yet another room full of men contemplating the end of days as sports announcers intoned dark pronouncements about defeat. I was in a Jungian nightmare with level after level of bereft sport fanatics, but where was Game of Thrones? I held back my tears long enough to ask the second bartender, “Game of Thrones!?!” My voice rose to a shrill high.

“In the basement,” he answered.

I took two steps at a time, flying into a basement where I was greeted with a wondrous sight: a screen effulgent with the melodic strains of the Game of Thrones opening music and a collection of nerds, my brethren abroad, keening with anticipation. Then the most beautiful thing happened; everyone shushed me to keep quiet as the opening credit drew to a close. Just as I would have done if someone dared to stomp downstairs as Game of Thrones was about to start! These were my people! After listening to the silly bellows of sports fans all night, I’d found an enclave of quiet. I settled down happily to watch Cersei Lannister blow up the Sept of Baelor. It was awesome.