Brisbane

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Most of the day was spent in Ipswich, an hours' train trip from Brisbane, with friends from my full time working days both of whom are recovering from serious, life threatening illnesses. It was good to find them both in fine spirits and well on the way to reasonable health. I spent a quiet night back in Brisbane watching the World Cup on television but took a break to wander briefly about the city centre in the early evening.

The square in front of Brisbane's City Hall. The coloured lights embedded in the square change colour every thirty seconds or so.

Brisbane's City Hall, closed for major internal refurbishment and expected to reopen (from memory) in 2012.

Sydney to Brisbane

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The Qantas Club Lounge ahead of boarding my flight. It was late morning and not as crowded as in peak periods but the flights themselves were packed with NSW Blues football supporters travelling to Brisbane for the State of Origin clash in the evening. They would have returned disappointed after yet another convincing defeat at the hands of the Queensland Maroons.

The ascent from Sydney Airport minutes after take off, flying over Sydney's eastern suburbs with Bondi Beach prominent on the coast of the Pacific Ocean and Royal Sydney Golf Club the large green expanse to the left.

About 40 minutes into the flight, the seemingly endless string of coastal beaches on the eastern rim of the New South Wales north coast.

About 55 minutes into the flight and now on descent into Brisbane flying over Surfers Paradise on Queensland's Gold Coast with the dozens of little dots actually being high rise towers, the tallest of which is the 70 storeys tall Q1 building.

Up, up and away....

Am off to Brisbane this afternoon for a couple of days there followed by the weekend at Currumbin on the Gold Coast.

It's a double birthday celebration; my 61st and Fd's 60th.

Show us the goods...

Collingwood footballer Shane O'Bree speaking on radio yesterday about the quality of the players in his current team stated 'A lot of players have got the full package'.

Mmmmm, I'd like to see that.

Masts and Park

The Cruising Yacht Club at the bottom of my garden. Well...not quite, but only a five minutes drive down the road.

Strollers in the adjacent Rushcutters Bay Park on a cold but sunny afternoon this Queen's Birthday long weekend.

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A Penny For Your Thoughts

Oh how that saying used to bemuse me.

You see, I'm a pretty thoughtless man. I can go hours without a thought in my head. If I had to rely on thoughts to get rich...well, I'd be a pauper.

In this respect I am not my mother's son. My mother always had thoughts...countless thoughts. She could attach a treasure chest load of thoughts to a single thought of mine. For instance, if I thought...'tomorrow I will go to the movies'...that single thought was sufficient thinking for me. No other thoughts were necessary.

Not so, my mother. To that single thought, my mother would attach other thoughts. What if it rains? snows? is cold? hot? And to each of those other thoughts my mother would attach further thoughts. Should I take food? drink? a friend? And to each of the further thoughts my mother would attach supplementary thoughts. Is my underwear clean? did I cut my toenails? should I brush my teeth, does the car have petrol?

And so on and so forth.

The casual observer would see my countenance as inscrutable, concealing all manner of deep thoughts.

My mother knew better...her son did not possess a thought in the world.

Me Too

If it's good enough for Andrew, it's good enough for me.

A new look.

Now for a haircut......

No milestone for mother

My mother, who died on 26 March, would have been eighty-five today.

It is a pity that she did not reach the milestone but in reality it would only have been a matter of pleasure for me as in her final years with dementia she no longer showed any interest or awareness of the concept of age and birthdays.

But Mum, I have been thinking of you today.

'...Peas, pudding and saveloys!...'*

(*'Food Glorious Food' from 'Oliver' by Lionel Bart)

Ae and I decided to have a Seniors day and take a ferry trip up the Parramatta River but on arrival at Circular Quay we found the 11am service had been cancelled because of a low tide and the next scheduled service was not due until 12.50pm so we took the Cockatoo Island service instead and disembarked at Woolwich. We enjoyed walking the leafy and quiet streets of Hunters Hill which are a distinct difference from the high traffic Eastern Suburbs streets where we live.

We ended up at the Woolwich Pier Hotel where we enjoyed a leisurely lunch (Barramundi, fries and salad for me and Beef Bourguignon Pot Pie for Ae) surrounded by fellow seniors and mothers with young children. We didn't realise until we checked out the upstairs section after our meal that it contained an open fire which was perfect for a cold day but the skylight downstairs had provided us with sufficient warmth anyway.

After lunch we walked back down the hill to the Woolwich Wharf to await a return ferry.

A view of the wharf and down the Parramatta River towards the Central Business District in the distance (mid-left).

Our ferry for the return journey, 'Friendship', arriving at the wharf.

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Oresteia

I'm not really into 2,500 years' old, three hours' long, Greek tragedies about Kings and Queens who murder each other as well as their own parents and children as told by chanting Greek choruses and characters speaking long and obscure soliloquies.

So it was with considerable lack of enthusiasm that I went to see the Sydney Theatre Company's current production of 'Oresteia'. To my surprise (and a good deal of relief) I quite enjoyed the production. Considerable credit must go to Tom Wright who has created the new adaptation as well directing the production.

I referred to the program notes for a synopsis of the plot which I otherwise would not have understood from the dialogue alone and yet I was able to relate to the dialogue to a greater extent than I expected.

The Wharf

In 1984, The Wharf Theatre opened as the home for the Sydney Theatre Company in the renovated Pier 4/5 which had operated as a shipping wharf from 1919. The majority of the Company's productions that I attend are staged in the two theatres built inside the old pier. The Sydney Theatre Company occupies the upper levels whilst the Sydney Dance Company has a home for its rehearsal rooms and a cafe in the lower levels.

Advertising for the two companies at the front entrance.

Storm approaching Steyne

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Steyne Park, Double Bay this morning with darkening clouds approaching from the right (South-East) ahead of a rain storm.

Animal Kingdom

Seventeen years old  James Frecheville moves in with his grandmother in suburban Melbourne following his mother's death from an overdose. Once there he is drawn into the criminal lives of his four uncles and is exposed to the law of the 'Animal Kingdom'; survival of the fittest.

This Australian film won the Grand Jury Prize at the Sundance Festival 2010 and has received high praise from local reviewers. It is cleverly constructed. From the outset a seemingly mundane depiction of a criminal family with little regard for others, I was drawn into the drama as shock turn followed shock turn. By the end, I had been completely seduced by this brilliant film.

Young Frecheville in his first professional acting role is superb and the ensemble cast around him is magnificent; not a weak performer amongst them.

The subject matter of the film is not pleasant but the overall impact is stunning.

Rue McClanahan (1934-2010)

The hilariously slutty Blanche from 'The Golden Girls' has died aged 76 years. Now only Betty White is left.

Sex and the City 2

The appeal for me of the television series, Sex and the City, was not just the parade of handsome, often naked, men but also the glamorous appearance of the four women stars as well as my vicarious enjoyment of their New York bistro/restaurant and nightclubbing lifestyle. Whilst episodes of the television series were mostly frivolous in nature I admired the occasional foray into serious drama although no-one I know ever shared this view.

My recollection of the first Sex and the City movie is that it followed a similar path to the television series albeit that having a far greater length than a televison episode it tended at times to be meandering and dull. And now we have 'Sex and the City 2'.

It opens with a Gay wedding scene that is so over the top it might have come from the imagination of Busby Berkely. It includes a cameo from Liza Minnelli who is sadly far from her best. This entire segment struck me as being offered with a degree of embarrassment as though the creators are giving a nod to tolerance under sufferance. Having accommodated 'the gays' the film moves on with no further reference to it's lengthy opening segment.

Very little of what follows is set in New York and the absence of that exciting environment leaves a movie that is a pale and rather tired imitation of the popular television version. Carrie is wary of what is happening to her marriage to 'Big' who now has not only a christian name but a middle and family name as well. Charlotte is worried about her mothering skills, Samantha is stricken with menopause concerns and Miranda - as ever - is torn between her professional and family responsibilities.

Their solution is to holiday in Abu Dhabi, a location which provides an excuse for all manner of crass behaviour and some escapades last seen in the Abbott and Costello comedies of the 1940s. A brief appearance by (what is supposedly) the Australian Rugby Sevens team in their speedos was one of the few eye candy highlights. Otherwise, even the fashions didn't possess their famous zing.

Disappointing.

Don't Look Now

For days now a certain 'shock jock' - appointed 'Ambassador' for the current lights display in Sydney - has been urging Sydneysiders to take a look at the lights display which is a part of Vivid Sydney, promoted as a festival for light, music and ideas.

Sounds like a good idea.

So last night, driving home from playing bridge Ce suggested we detour from our usual journey through the harbour tunnel so as to pass by the display. What a good idea, I thought and I changed over to the Harbour Bridge crossing in order that Ce could gaze across to the Sydney Opera House display.

Guess what. The Eastern lanes of the bridge were closed off for night roadworks thus completely blocking the SOH from view.

Another botched promotion by the NSW State Government!

The Back-up Plan

'The Back-up Plan' for thirty-something and still single Jennifer Lopez is to have herself inseminated to start her family. In true Hollywood fashion, no sooner has she done that then along comes Alex O'Loughlin and the rest? Well, the rest is no surprise given that this is moviedom and besides the entire plot is given away in the poster!

The opening credits are presented in cartoon style much as was the case in Doris Day/Rock Hudson romantic comedies in the late 1960s. But Doris Day comedies never contained words such as penis, vagina, insemination, sperm and pubes.

The 'humour' in the film, though, is as old as Doris Day and pretty unsubtle and in case that is not your style the creators throw in ageism comedy and plenty of poo and incontinence references for good measure.

'...thou shalt not eat of it...'*

(*Genesis 2.17, The Bible, by you know who)

As if the Westfield shopping complex was not sufficient temptation, Bondi Junction now has this.

An old question

'Let's see how far we can amble'*

(* 'Our Day Trip' by Nina Nastasia)

Well, I ambled approximately 1500 kilometres - and all of it today.

I took the Rex Airlines 8.10am flight to Ballina basically to have lunch with Mt before catching the Jetstar 4.40pm return flight.

Mt met me at Ballina airport and drove us to Alstonville where we had morning tea for Me whose birthday it was yesterday and then afterwards we drove up the coast to Byron Bay, thirty minutes away, for a wander and lunch before returning to Ballina where I downloaded Mt's new modem connection and attempted to sort out some computer problems.

It was a pleasant if somewhat expensive way to have lunch with friends and the only downside was that the rain we experienced in Sydney yesterday followed me up the coast and only abated as I strode across the tarmac at Ballina to join my return flight to Sydney.

On the upside, a delicious morning tea followed by a fine lunch and (almost) best of all there was a terrific surf which attracted dozens of attractive young surfers who, from my viewpoint, thoughtfully changed in and out of their wet suits as we drove by on the coast highway.

Letters to Juliet

New Yorkers Amanda Seyfried and her fiance Gael Garcia Bernal take a pre-wedding holiday in Italy where Seyfried comes across the self-styled Secretaries of Juliet who write responses to 'Letters to Juliet'; letters left at the house of Juliet (of Romeo and Juliet fame) by love distressed women. Seyfried stumbles across a fifty years' old letter left by Vanessa Redgrave who now decides to search the countryside for her lover of half a century earlier.

I suppose this plot is fanciful enough in the style of Shakespeare's famous lovers but the contrivances needed to give effect to it make for a fairly ridiculous hour and a half of cinema. It might have been cute had the characters been appealing but Bernal's character is particularly irritating - no doubt deliberately directed that way - which made me wonder why Seyfried's character would bother having a relationship with him. The alternative leading male character, played by Australian actor Christopher Egan, is quite a twit and when eventually his character unsurprisingly softens into a love interest - and an unconvincing one at that - Seyfried's judgement in men becomes seriously questionable.

When first seen, the aforementioned 'Secretaries' seem to have little or no English language capacity but from then on they possess an almost unseemly mastery of the language at every subsequent appearance.

One redeeming element is that most of the film is shot outdoors in Italy and to a lesser extent New York so that at least there is plenty of visual stimulus. The ever reliable Redgrave is another redeeming aspect but really this film should be reserved for a rainy winter's day as background mood for couch entwined star crossed lovers.

City Island

Andy Garcia and Julianna Margulies are Italian American New Yorkers living with their two children on 'City Island'; an old fishing village in the Bronx district. Each is keeping secrets from the others.

I could describe this as a quiet little comedy except for the fact that playing Italian American New Yorkers - and beautifully against usual type - Garcia and Margulies shout a lot. Nevertheless, I found the characters and situations endearing and enjoyed plenty of chuckles as the secrets unravel.

Who knew that New York contained such an interesting suburban waterside area?

We want to go outside and play*

(* Rain, Rain Go Away)

Raining again this morning - as seen from a back window - and I want it to go away.

Holding the Man*

(* A transgression in Australian Rules football that can incur a penalty)

This dopey Australian Rules footballer thinks gay players should stay in the closet lest they frighten those brave straight footballers from the changing room showers.

I'm sure he also thinks a woman's place is in the home (and his bed as required). He plays for the Bulldogs but in reality is a Dinosaur.

The Bold and the Radioactive

My friend My had treatment yesterday for a thyroid condition; a small capsule that was handed to her in a cup and which she had to swallow without touching with her hands. According to the doctors My is now radioactive until the end of the week. In the meantime, My could set off airport security alarms and she has to avoid crowds, public cutlery, shopping queues and all manner of activities from sexual intercourse - no danger to her from me there - to moviegoing and mouth kisses.

However My can visit cafes as long as she stays a metre apart from others and does not use their cutlery. Spending time alone indoors is not My's idea of fun so she asked if I was available to accompany her for a walk and talk. Unfortunately it was pretty wet this morning so instead of the intended long walk we took ourselves along to a nearby cafe where I dutifully sat at least one metre apart from her and avoided any temptation that might have developed to kiss her, let alone engage in sexual intercourse.

My is spending the three days at a friend's flat in Clovelly and neither of us knew the vicinity so we opted for the first cafe we encountered. This turned out to be Boncaffe in Frenchman's Road, Randwick. A very fortuitous encounter, as it turns out. Inexpensive, friendly and efficient service, very tasty snacks and a lively clientele.

I suggested that My should be radioactive more often to give us the excuse to frequent this cafe.

Home is the sailor, home from the sea*

(*'Requiem' by Robert Louis Stevenson)

Somewhere in the flotilla above (click to enlarge) is sixteen years old Jessica Watson completing her solo around the world voyage just one hour ago.

Let me extract your wealth

Had my six monthly dental check up this morning.

Everything in order, no sign of any dental decay, just a clean and polish performed.

In and out in less than ten minutes including paying the receptionist for the pleasure.

$163 thank you very much. Ouch!

Thankfully I'm covered by medical insurance so only had to make the co-payment.

'When the Autumn weather, turns leaves to flame'*

*('September Song' by Kurt Weill and Maxwell Anderson)

Whilst waiting for my car to undergo it's 'one hour express service' this morning - which actually took two hours - I kept looking up from the book I was reading, mesmerised by the sight (above) of Autumn leaves waving in the wind as seen through the sun screen which covered the third floor service centre window. I had the sense that I was viewing a screen painting at a gallery.

Under the belly or over the top?

The third series of 'Underbelly', the top rating television series about crime in Sydney (and previously Melbourne), is starting to look a bit like the Emperor's new clothes to me.

Like the two earlier series, this latest instalment misses no opportunity to display women's breasts regardless of whether such images have any relevance to the scene in which they appear. The same cynical strategy has been employed throughout the Underbelly series in what I assume is a ratings garnering tactic.

In this latest series the storyline is stretched pretty thin with some episodes containing very little or no story development at all.

Io, Don Giovanni

One of my favourite films is 'Amadeus' which relates the life of composer Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart from the perspective of his rival at the Viennese Court, Antonio Salieri.

Both composers feature in the Italian/Spanish co-production 'Io, Don Giovanni' but this time the perspective and focus is Lorenzo da Ponte, the Priest exiled from Venice who travels to Vienna where he collaborates with Mozart to create 'Don Giovanni'. For me, 'Amadeus' was a thrilling exposition of the genius that was Mozart but 'Io, Don Giovanni' falls short by comparison.

Although the style of 'Io, Don Giovanni' is similar to 'Amadeus' the effect by contrast comes across as artificial. It is as though the characters are fictional and the story a soap opera style pot boiler. 'Io, Don Giovanni' does contain some glorious images and the scenes featuring Mozart's operas are often very fine indeed but the film is not a match for the Mozart bio-pic.

The Habit of Art

Alan Bennett's play 'The Habit of Art' is transmitted to cinemas in a live broadcast of a performance from the stage of the National Theatre (UK).

The play is a play...within a play. A play in which actors rehearse a play about the poet W H Auden and the composer Benjamin Britten. The pair were close friends from 1935 to 1942 but fell out after their opera, 'Paul Bunyan' flopped in the United States and then meet in Auden's rooms as Britten is composing 'Death in Venice'. Each had a long term same sex relationship.

The play, packed with funny moments and wry observations, touches on theatre life, fragile egos, personal idiosyncrasies and gay sex.

Richard Griffiths as Auden and the delightfully pragmatic Frances de la Tour as the stage manager are standouts whilst Stephen Wight attracted my interest as the rent boy with principles and aspirations.

Last night at the Opera House

I know I have posted many photographs of the Circular Quay and Sydney Opera House precinct but I never tire of the views there whether in the day or especially at night. Here are photos from last night when I attended the Sydney Symphony Orchestra Rodgers and Hammerstein concert. As usual, click on the individual photos to enlarge them.

The poster for last night's concert in the Opera House forecourt.

Opera House and the lower concourse Cafe.

Opera House in the distance and James' favoured Opera Bar, packed with drinkers in the dark lower right.

Opera House above and the Opera House shop in the lower concourse.

East Circular Quay (left) and Circular Quay in the distance seen from the lower concourse.

Concert Hall upper Northern Foyer at Interval.

The Concert Hall at Interval.

A snooty usher instructed me to stop taking photographs at this point.

Rodgers and Hammerstein On Stage and Screen

This is a bit of a gay man's wet dream. The Sydney Symphony Orchestra playing the film scores to Rodgers and Hammerstein musicals in the Sydney Opera House, accompanying clips from the movies. I grew up on R&H musicals and thrilled to hearing and seeing musical selections that are so ingrained in my memory.

The conductor, George Daugherty, links the pieces and film clips with his commentary and is clearly very enthusiastic on the subject. His exuberance on the podium is so marked that at times he appeared almost to be trampolining.

It was fascinating to re-visit memorable moments including the 'bench scene' from Carousel ('If I Loved You') and the 'Shall We Dance' sequence from The King and I. Both scenes appear quite chaste and tame by today's standards yet each remains undeniably sexy. There is no doubting what Yul Brynner has on his mind as Deborah Kerr explains English courtship practices to him.

It is a pity that the Orchestra drowns out some key dialogue during 'Shall We Dance'; the only misstep in tonight's performance for mine.

I ran into James on the bus trip home and assumed he must have been amongst the gay contingent at the R&H concert too but it turns out he had been to the nearby Dendy Cinemas attending the premiere of an Australian documentary on Palm Island. That makes three bloggers I have met in person now.

Honour

The Sydney Theatre Company's re-staging of Joanna Murray-Smith's play 'Honour' has simple staging and some fine acting.

William Zappa and Wendy Hughes are the couple whose marriage ends abruptly when Zappa's character is seduced by the youthful and sexy journalist sent to interview him for a profile study. The play contains plenty of scorching one liners and is quite interesting even though the characters making up the triangle develop in a predictable way.

Date Night

Steve Carell and Tina Fey enliven their marriage with a weekly 'Date Night', dinner at the same local restaurant each time. When Carell is emboldened to take Fey to the hottest restaurant in New York, the weekly dinner date serves up more than they expected.

The humour and action are non too subtle and the film doesn't make much sense at times but Carell and Fey are likeable and deliver a few chuckles along the way.