I’m reading at the Torriano next weekend, along with Jane Speare and Kate White, hosted by Lisa Kelly. Do come along: Sunday 8 May at 7.30, first half is open mic.
|Greenwich Yacht Club, photo simonward.com|
The film reminded me that in Greece in the early/mid 1990s, 30 years after the film and 50 after the novel, Cretan men still had a bad reputation, at least with women. They were supposed to be unloving and often violent. (Of course they weren't all like that...) Women turned to each other for tenderness, and there were – I was told – many lesbian relationships between married women. I wonder if the men knew about it. But in the Eastern Mediterranean, what went on in the women’s quarters wasn’t of interest to the men; I think there was still an element of this culture in Greek attitudes.
Seeing a film in a strange place is always interesting. A few years ago I saw Battleship Potemkin in a fortress in St Petersburg, with someone playing a piano accompaniment. In the mid-1980s I lived in Poland and every now and then a film that contained the seeds of dissent would get passed by the censors; the few showings sold out, and at the end the audience would applaud. I remember everyone applauding Bez Końca, No End, a Kieślowski film that ended with a suicide in a kitchen gas oven – because the film reflected what life under martial law had felt like.
And I remember an archaeological dig in Italy: going to the cinema in the local town with Italian fellow-students, and being mystified when we went in halfway through the film, watched it to the end and then the first half, leaving at the point we’d come in at. The whole audience was doing the same – coming and going throughout. I’ve no idea what the film was, except that it did have a plot.
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