Lorca/Dalí resource post

So I told several of my friends that I would compile a list of books that they might look into for further information about Federico Garía Lorca and Salvador Dalí. I’m actually very pleased by how much interest the film Little Ashes has garnered for these two, reaching a lot of people who seemingly would otherwise never know the beauty of Lorca’s pen or Dalí’s paintbrush. I’m more than happy to contribute what I can to the cause. As I’ve mentioned, I’m certainly not a scholar or historian in the area, but I do have my own preferences for texts that I’ve found to be particularly enlightening. I hope this list is useful to some of you!

 

By Federico García Lorca:

· The Collected Poems: A Bilingual Edition

· Selected Poems with Parallel Spanish Text

· Blood Wedding

· In Search of Duende

· Once Five Years Pass and Other Dramatic Works

· Only Mystery: Lorca’s Poems in Word and Image

· Poet in New York: A Bilingual Edition

 

About Federico García Lorca:

· Lorca: A Dream of Life (Leslie Stainton)

· Federico García Lorca: A Life (Ian Gibson)

· The Death of Lorca (Ian Gibson)

· Lorca: The Theatre Beneath the Sand (Gwynne Edwards; more of a critical reading of his plays)

 

By Salvador Dalí:

· Virtual Dalí (not a book, but a website where you can view Dalí’s work extensively online)

· Diary of a Genius

· The Collected Writings of Salvador Dalí

· The Secret Life of Salvador Dalí

 

About Salvador Dalí:

· Salvador Dalí: An Illustrated Life (Gala-Salvador Dalí Foundation)

· The Persistence of Memory: A Biography of Dalí (Meredith Etherington-Smith)

· The Shameful Life of Salvador Dalí (Ian Gibson)

 

One that will be particularly of interest to fans or viewers of the film Little Ashes:

· Sebastian’s Arrows: Letters and Mementos of Salvador Dalí and Federico García Lorca

Another one of interest to Little Ashes fans, but is entirely in Spanish:

· Lorca-Dalí: El Amor Que No Pudo Ser (Ian Gibson)

 

I’m not even vaguely well-educated about Luis Buñuel, although I have found a couple of decent books on him:

· Luis Buñuel: A Critical Biography (Francisco Aranda)

· Luis Buñuel: An Introduction (Ado. Kyrou)

 

I also realize that these books are not all readily available at Amazon.com, and I can’t suggest where you might buy them elsewhere. The site provides the ISBN number and publishing information for each book, so you can use that information to more easily track them down in libraries or other bookstores. Personally, I’ve found all of them in university or public libraries.

And, of course, if you have any suggestions for this list, please do offer them. I’d love to hear them!

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and i can hardly speak, my heart is beating so

“To burn with desire and to remain silent is the greatest punishment we can inflict on ourselves.” – Federico García Lorca

My horoscope (pfft… I know…) today said that I should be even more honest than usual, if such a thing is possible. My friends have told me for years that I am the only person they can count on to always tell them the truth. Yet, it’s true that there are truths I leave unsaid — my own secrets. There are things you just don’t say sometimes, because you don’t know how to put the absolute truth into words, or because your truth and someone else’s may not always be the same. You have to live your truth, certainly, but you learn to bite your tongue.

Is it worth it? I’m not sure. Sometimes, yes. Sometimes, though, I feel like I’m suffocating myself to benefit someone else and it’s almost unbearable. What would be the outcome of revealing my secrets? Maybe it would invite good things into my life. Maybe it would bring me happiness.

It’s easier to swallow it, to gag it and keep it silent, than to risk letting it all out and face the consequences. The danger is inherent in such absolute exposure. There’s the possibility of rejection present in all human interactions. there’s the chance that the person to whom I reveal myself will be shocked, appalled, disgusted. That they will deem me not good enough. Or worse, that even with my soul exposed, I simply won’t matter to them at all.

Our culture emphasizes these points in the extremes. It’s nearly impossible to figure out where the baseline is. We are taught through the media that tabloid culture is reality and that we will never be as good as the airbrushed images on glossy pages. Alternately, “reality television” and the like impress the idea that anything is possible. They teach us to believe that if we want something bad enough, we can find a way to make it happen. The “American dream” has been encouraging that lofty ideal for over two hundred years. Which is right? What do we believe?

Certainly the latter is more appealing. A positive attitude is theoretically more likely to motivate a person toward attempting to achieve even seemingly impossible goals. Yet, there are some things that really are impossible, and once you put yourself out there, into someone else’s hands, you are no longer in control. I guess that’s the most terrifying part.

It’s hard to want something so badly I can taste it, but to know that there’s only so much I can do to bring it to fruition. It’s frustrating that I know my truth, but don’t know the right way to make it known — and acceptable, welcomed — to others. I can’t control how I am perceived, only how I present myself. I can only do my best and then simply let it go. As heartbreaking as that can be.

And so it begins…

(listening to: Ray Charles, “You Don’t Know Me”)

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Little Ashes review, redux

Okay, so I went to see Little Ashes for the second time this evening (love my student discount on the ticket price, by the way), and I’ve decided that I need to alter my review a bit. (You can see my initial review here.)

First and foremost, I said that I felt they didn’t give enough background on the war, the revolution, and the political upheaval of the time. I retract this statement because it’s not really accurate. This really is more a matter of perspective, I think. For the purposes of the film, they gave enough information about what was going on. I said that they didn’t give enough information to fully justify the characters’ reactions to the political climate, and that’s not really true either. Instead of offering a heavy-handed history lesson, the film provided the necessary details intricately laced throughout the film, giving just as much information as was necessary. I think my initial reaction was based on the voice of my inner humanitarian being upset that there was so little portrayal of some of the widespread injustice of the era. But, the film is a biopic about Lorca and Dalí, not a documentary on the Spanish Civil War. And really, I think, in the end, if they’d attempted to put in more detail, the film would’ve risked being pretentious and over-reaching. What was included was really more than enough for what the film was trying to accomplish.

Second, I stand by my dismay at not seeing more of Matthew McNulty’s Buñuel, but I think that may be more related to my appreciation of his portrayal than to the necessity of it in the film. One thing that I felt was overlooked was any attention to detail concerning Buñuel’s work. We hear Lorca’s poetry, we see Dalí’s paintings, but all we know of Buñuel is that he works in film. The only indication of anything he ever accomplished was the inclusion of his collaboration on Un Chien Andalou with Dalí. Still, this was again something that was more or less optional to the film, and I did enjoy what was given.

Something I was remiss in overlooking in my first review is Marina Gatell’s performance as Magdalena. Early in the film, I found her character to be flighty and annoying — which, in my estimation, is a fairly accurate portrayal of a college girl. (:P) The character goes through tremendous growth in the film, as do all of the major players, and Gatell holds her own in some of the most pivotal scenes in the entire film. The scene where she advises Lorca on living life has a great risk of coming out cheesey and trite, but her delivery of the lines is really beautiful. And anyway, the advice she gives Lorca is something I think everyone should take to heart. Gatell, like Pattinson and Beltrán (and McNulty in his own way), has an incredibly expressive face that she uses to her full advantage throughout the film. There are a few scenes where the entire meaning is carried by the expressions and body language of the various actors in the scene, without the use of any words at all. I find that fascinating.

And honestly, this isn’t new, but I just can’t say enough about Javier Beltrán as Lorca. He’s just… completely mesmerizing. He effuses a certain element of purity and innocence, and later the fierce determination coloured with these very qualities. He was just a ridiculously spot on Lorca, and I was so pleased. To quote my friend Janey, the man is “absolute perfection” in this role. I was in love with Lorca before the film, but if it’s possible, Beltrán makes me love him even more. He’s amazing. I simply cannot offer enough praise.

And last, but not least, there are two lines in the movie that I think will make me laugh every time I see it, thanks mostly to Robert Pattinson’s epic delivery: “I would love an enema!” and “Pardon the bear. Did you see the bear?” I broke out laughing so hard. Up there along with, “I grew this moustache.” I’ve always thought Pattinson has great comedic timing. And anyway, his Dalí is just phenomenal.

I still can’t recommend this movie enough. If you’re interested in seeing it, you can check the official website for the film to find a theatre near you. If it isn’t showing near you, I suggest checking out the ROBsessed blog site’s Little Ashes Movement and seeing what can be done about trying to recruit a local theatre. Trust me, it’s worth it.

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Little Ashes film review

I have so much to write about and catch up on, but there’s too much else going on and demanding my time. Plus, I promised I would write on this particular topic, so here goes…

So, this is going to be my write up of Little Ashes. It’s long, and I can’t promise it’s spoiler-free — but then again, the movie is based on history, so how can I spoil it? 🙂 It should be noted, however, that I am NOT a film critic, nor am I technically a(n) historian, and I don’t feel like I can possibly write about this movie and do it justice, so bear with me on this.

First, I should say a few things about why Little Ashes even matters to me at all. I’ll say this, and whether you choose to believe it or not is up to you: it actually has very little to do with Robert Pattinson.

Gasp. I know.

Yeah, I’m a fan (although, I hesitate to use that word given the hysteria often attributed to his “fans”). I respect the hell out of the guy’s acting talent and musical gifts, and I’ve been impressed by his wit and intelligence on multiple occasions. I would probably see a movie he’s in just because he seems to have an intriguing taste in choosing roles, and because I’ve yet to be disappointed by any of his films.

That said, I would hands down most definitely have gone to see Little Ashes even if he wasn’t in it, or if I’d never heard of him, or hell, if I even hated the guy. Federico García Lorca is one of my most beloved poets, and for all his quirks and dancing with insanity, Salvador Dalí was an incredibly gifted painter. Dalí is significantly better known, perhaps because it’s easier to both disseminate and to recognize art than it is for poetry or even plays (or, perhaps, because Dalí’s constant antics, and contributions to various art movements, made him unforgettable). In the last decade or so since I discovered and fell in love with the work of these two men, I never really dared dream someone would make a biopic about them that would satisfy me. Little Ashes, for the most part, pulled it off.

Little Ashes primarily tells the (possibly fictionalized, I tend to believe it’s mostly true) tale of the early days of the friendship between Federico García Lorca, Salvador Dalí, and Luis Buñuel at the Student Residence in Madrid before the Spanish Civil War. The focus is mostly on the intense relationship that Lorca and Dalí shared, and the possible awkward, ill-fated love affair that blossomed between the two. The story continues through all three of the influential young artists discovering their talents and passions, their diversions, and ultimately climaxes with the Spanish Civil War and its effect on their lives.

I’ll start by pointing out the things that left me feeling less than thrilled (although not enough to really detract from the experience of the film). There weren’t many of them. Foremost, I felt that they didn’t really provide enough background on the political climate preceding the war — I realize the film is intended as more of a drama about human relationships, but they provided each character’s reactions to the political climate without giving insight into why they felt that way. For someone watching the film with little or no background in Spanish history, it might be confusing. Or it might not. I dunno. It’s just something that struck me while I was watching it. Another thing that nagged at the back of my mind was how underdeveloped Buñuel was as a human character. He played his part as a minor character in the backdrop of the melodrama between Lorca and Dalí, but the film’s advertisements indicated him as a major player in the tale (which he was, in reality). Both of these things, though, were issues that would have lengthened an already two-hour film, so I can see why they may have been sidestepped a bit. I changed my opinion on these things after a second viewing. You can see my thoughts on this here.

So, what did I desperately love about the movie?

The acting was phenomenal. This was, I believe, Javier Beltrán’s first film role, and he was incredible as Lorca. After seeing the film, I honestly can’t imagine anyone playing him better. Beltrán managed to convey just the right mix of Lorca’s soul: the memories that haunted him, the innocence he held on to, the poetic way he viewed the world, the hope he had for his country and for his life, and his passion for what he believed in. There wasn’t a single minute in the film when I was watching and didn’t feel like I was really watching Federico García Lorca on that screen. From what I’ve read, the recitations of Lorca’s poetry in the film seemed to bother some people. The method chosen was to have Beltrán reciting the poems in Spanish on film, and then quiet it down to have him reciting them in English translation, overlapping the two. I thought it worked fine, especially considering how unlikely it is that most people in the audience would (a) recognize Lorca’s poetry in Spanish, (b) understand the Spanish, and (c) be able to comprehend it with the Andalusian accent (which is another point — I’m not sure if it’s Beltrán’s native accent or not — if not, he was entirely consistent through the whole film). However, I often found myself straining to hear Beltrán’s Spanish version of the poetry because I prefer Lorca in his native tongue, and because Beltrán recited them so beautifully. He did so in English as well, though, so I really have no complaints. It was an interesting tactic and I thought it was successful. As for Beltrán, I sincerely hope to see him again in other films. He’s incredibly gifted. I really believed in the light I saw in Lorca’s eyes, the purity of Lorca’s heart, through his portrayal. That, in itself, would’ve been enough for this movie to accomplish for me.

Robert Pattinson surprised me, which I will admit happens quite often. He’s a very talented young actor who is rapidly establishing himself in Hollywood — and through his talent instead of the usual young Hollywood antics. Still, even with my belief in his talent, I honestly didn’t think that it’s possible to play Salvador Dalí believably. Hell, Dalí barely played himself believably. Pattinson’s portrayal of Dalí was really spot on, though. I’ve read that he spent a lot of time in Spain before and during the filming process alone, simply studying Dalí and his ways, his mannerisms and behaviours. It definitely shows, because there were so many times during the film where I was taken aback by how real it seemed. Dalí walked a very fine line between genius and madness, often crossing over on either side, and I thought it would be impossible to show that. Pattinson managed to do it. I also found myself laughing quite a lot at the very recognizable antics of Dalí. I couldn’t possibly recount them here and do them any justice. Suffice it to say that if you are at all familiar with Dalí the perpetual performer, you will see it too. I can’t say if it was meant to be humourous in the film, or even if Dalí really ever intended to be funny, but it’s something I’ve always found hysterical. Pattinson also really managed to capture Dalí’s arduous, sometimes tortured, journey in self-creation, which I found impressive. He began as the awkward schoolboy joining the elite crowd at the Student Residence, and eventually molded himself into the man and the legend who is remembered today. Pattinson’s body language throughout the film almost tells the tale of Dalí’s development for itself, which I thought was amazing. And it’s never out of character — he’s never anyone but Salvador Dalí. There were a lot of points where it could have been extremely difficult to stay inside Dalí’s skin (the famous “tuck” scene, for example, or the various romantic moments between Lorca and Dalí), but he stays in the part. Even when it seems ludicrous, it’s Dalí being ridiculous.

Matthew McNulty, as Luis Buñuel, is something of an unsung hero of this film, really. I was never much of a Buñuel fan, so I can’t really comment on the historical or human accuracy of his portrayal, but his acting talent is undeniable here. Buñuel’s alternating cocky attitude and self-loathing, his desire to connect to others, his youthful naieveté in the early days of the revolution, and his later passion as he learns to fight the good fight — all are very tangible and seem real. McNulty played the part of a background character in the story well, but still managed to tug my attention back to him enough that he didn’t actually become background to me. I liked that.

Something I found especially poignant about the film is the portrayal of the various characters’ experiences with and views on homosexuality. Young Lorca begins to discover his homosexuality in his longing for Dalí, and kneels before the Virgin Mary to pay penance and ask to be delivered from temptation. Buñuel’s blatant homophobia only fuels the strange fire developing between the two young artists, until Buñuel himself is testing the waters to try to understand it (although I can’t recall if this is a factual portrayal of Buñuel in that respect). Dalí himself grapples with his feelings for Lorca, giving in to them time and again only to withdraw further into his façades and (what I can only call) “real life performance art.” I could feel in my heart the pain they were both going through as they tried to figure out what they were to each other, and what they were actually comfortable being. This aspect of the story is the part that’s most controversial, though, because Dalí denied (rather vehemently) any sexual relationship between himself and Lorca, but I always felt it was one of those “the lady doth protest too much” kind of situations, myself. Even so, there’s no denying the intense connection the two men had, as it’s documented well in their letters and even in some cases of their work.

The film covers such a broad scope of issues. From the daunting task of establishing oneself as a young artist, to learning to understand one’s sexuality, to living bravely in a world of complete upheaval and even violence… The difficulty of the journey for each of them is palpable, and there were times when I was genuinely in tears as I went along for the ride. I’m all too familiar with how the story ultimately played out, and I knew what the ending had to be, but I still sat there on the edge of my seat hoping and wishing it would somehow be different. I think that is a real accomplishment on the part of the team behind this film. And I won’t lie — it really excites me that this film got as much publicity as it did (through Robert Pattinson, or otherwise, I don’t really care), because it means more people are being exposed to the richness of Lorca and Dalí’s work, and to the history of a dark era in human memory that can’t be forgotten.

Little Ashes isn’t going to be a film for everyone. It’s mostly an indie arthouse film with a particular sort of vibe to it. Honestly, as I watched it, I had a hard time reconciling the idea of an average “Twi-hard” or pop culture fiend (who can actually stand to read those tabloids anyway?! Something I’ll never understand, but that’s another topic) watching this movie and really understanding it and enjoying it. If it manages to reach that audience and affect them, then that’s all the more impressive in my book. And given its subject matter and presentation, it’s not a movie I can picture my parents enjoying much, for example, but that’s not going to stop me from saying I think everyone should see it. 😉

Oh, and I’ve had several friends ask for recommendations for volumes of Lorca’s poetry. I personally prefer to read in the original Spanish and do my own translations (translators often change word choice or word order, and I feel that’s dishonest to the poet’s intent, so I do my own reading and translation whenever possible), but I’ve found a few good bilingual editions. This volume and this volume are both good places to start, with a decent assortment of his poems and reasonable translations. (Enjoy! If you check them out, please let me know what you think. I love to talk Lorca!)

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