And to be fair to the SohoHouse Shoreditch

I must, now that I have dug up the reading list from Sunday of the Word Theatre production organized to raise money for Fairbridge, I want to share the titles and authors as well as the readers...really fine work on all sides...but Hornsby's "Nipple, Jesus" was incredible due to Molina's fabulous reading, but the short story "Joyas Voladoras" a father's pained musings about the heart the night before his young child is to have open heart surgery was incredibly powerful -- the handsome Alastair Mackenzie performed -- he of "Monarch of the Glen" fame -- be still my heart. Ian Hart made us laugh and cry with "Man in the Water" by Rose Tremain while John Schwab had everyone weeping with "Stories" by John Edgar Wideman..."A Man Walking in the Rain,eating a Banana." The title belies the punch of the story. The newcomer, Alexis Zegerman, from "Happy, Go Lucky" was astonishing as the grieving mother in "The Wave." And Lucky Brown did a joyous and poignant reading of Helen Simpson's "Up at the Villa." Cedering Fox, as always, directed cleanly, no muss, no fuss, just great words from fantastic performers.

Brownings Prospice and PIppa read by Jeremy Irons and Rupert Evans - British Library

I am having a literary week. Sunday, the splendid Alfred Molina gave an inspired and gorgeous reading of "Nipple Jesus" by Nick Hornsby (You can read the story in his newest book of short stories). What an actor. We even had a nice chat at the intermission. And,he's a lovely person to boot! The reading was at the Shoreditch Soho House to raise money for a fantastic group that helps at risk youth in England's most violent neighborhoods. Tuesday at the British Museum, Jeremy Irons, Charles Dance and the lovely Rupert Evans read the poems of Robert Browning to raise money for the literacy group Poetry Hour. Jeremy Irons is in the words of Dickens in "Pickwick Papers" "Charming, Charming, charming." Included in Irons readings the stunning poem about death, "Prospice." Rupert read my favorite, the song from "Pippa Passes."

Prospice- browning
Fear death?--to feel the fog in my throat,
The mist in my face,
When the snows begin, and the blasts denote
I am nearing the place,
The power of the night, the press of the storm,
The post of the foe;
Where he stands, the Arch Fear in a visible form;
Yet the strong man must go:
For the journey is done and the summit attained,
And the barriers fall,
Though a battle's to fight ere the guerdon be gained,
The reward of it all.
I was ever a fighter, so--one fight more,
The best and the last!
I would hate that Death bandaged my eyes, and forbore,
And made me creep past.
No! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers,
The heroes of old,
Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life's arrears
Of pain, darkness and cold.
For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave.
The black minute's at end,
And the elements' rage, the fiend voices that rave,
Shall dwindle, shall blend,
Shall change, shall become first a peace out of pain.
Then a light, then thy breat,
O thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee again,
And with God be the rest!

Song from PIPPA PASSES (set by Ned Rorem)
Robert Browning

The year's at the spring
And day's at the morn;
Morning's at seven;
The hillside's dew-pearled;

The lark's on the wing;
The snail's on the thorn;
God's in his heaven--
All's right with the world!

Christ Church Concert

Some of the great poems, songs and essays on the holidays read at Christ Church Oxford last night. A lovely kick off to the holiday season in England. The lovely Diana Quick too me along to ride shotgun on the drive from London. It has been 20 years since I've been at Oxford to visit. This time we had tea with the Head of Trinity College, Diana's old school friend. How magical it was to enter Trinity behind the gate and see the young, hip crazy mid-twenties scholars dash about on Friday night -- lots of elves costumes, santa hats and other Yuletide finery.

We walked through the University town to the church, a glorious gothic structure that leapt from the stills of "Inspetor Morse," my favorite Sunday night guilty pleasure.

Below some of the highlights we heard:

This Secret Garden - Justin Cartwright

The Fayrfax Carol Early tudor - thomas aides music

Moosburg Gradual 1355

AJ Wentworth BA father christmas

Music - Tomorrow shal be my dancing day - English traditional carol, John Gardner arrangement 1917

Music - O and A , and A and O..Piae Cantiones 1582 - arrangement David Willcocks

Poem w music - shalespeare and George Wither 1600 music Einojuhani reutavaara 20th cent.

Talking Turkeys Benjamin Sephaniah - london 20th cent.

Nesciens mater virgo virum peperit - John Jouton 15th Century

Shriley valentine - Brians plays Joseph in the nativity

A quick nibble at the home of Emma Bridgewater, the fanciful potter who is changing the world with her beautiful polka dots and dove teapots, biscuit tins and mugs.

Will post photos etc from France soon.

In the Bleak Mid-Winter - Christina Rossetti 19th century

Happiness

Happiness is a butterfly, which when pursued, is always just beyond your grasp, but which, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you.
Nigel Hawthorne.

May we all find that moment. Working in the Abbaye today. On to The Romantics for a big revision. I spent yesterday in the Abbaye proofing The Barrett script, which is akin to getting your teeth drilled without novacaine. But, it is done and into the world it now goes. Onto England and David Parfitt, my producer, Jane (aka mother of us all, Soul Sister and my producting partner) in L.A., Julie Harkin our genius casting director (genius used in the most genuine sense of the word) extrodinaire, and of course, the lovely Anthony Neilson -- the man who will have to wrangle these parts into a whole.

Saw a terribly boring play by Moliere, in French thank you very much -- this from the girl who can barely utter "Mon Chien mes Manque." Meaning "I miss my dog." But I did it, sat there and actually understood a word here and there.

The children visiting the Abbaye are breaking into Freres Jacques...again! Encore! Yikes....like clockwork.
I better get writing.

p.s. on the play. Went with Charles-Henri, Annette's friend, who is a gorgeous soul and great fun at a play where we were both ready to tear out our hair! Thank God we didn't.

In light of the death of two lovely friends I have been reading various pieces on life and how to live it. I came across something I remember reading at the time of the death of the author, it resonated. I am miles away from home and I thought rather than write about France today I would write about life.


This is inspired from a piece I read by a wonderful woman writer who died of cancer, Erma Bombeck. I loved her column as a girl and related to her humor as an adult. I’ve used her format and added my own musings as well. So a deep thank you to Mrs. Bombeck and to everyone who inspired the various musings below.

It reflects the thoughts I am having about us, about life, about gratitude.

I am stopping what I am doing and taking a look at all the good things in life and will stop thinking about the things I don’t have that I think I need.

Instead I will give thanks that I am awake and can watch the sunrise and am grateful to have a whole day for my life.

I want to see the things I take for granted and give the deepest heartfelt thanks that I have so much; a loving family, dear friends, my health, my humor, my sanity, my good heartedness.

So at this moment if:

If I had to live my life over I would have gone to bed when I was sick and enjoyed the rest and been grateful that I was taking care of myself and stopped pretending that things wouldn’t get done without me.

I would have shared more of the responsibility taken on by by my partner rather than letting him fill the gaps I was missing

I would have burnt the rose shaped candle and let it burn down instead of saving it--rather than letting it melt or get old and covered in dust,

I would have had friends over to dinner more even if the house was a mess

I would have eaten popcorn in the living room and worried less about the mess

I would have listened to my parents and your parents talk about their childhood more..

I would have rolled down the car windows more,

I would have sat in the grass and not worried if it was wet,

I would have cried and laughed more with all the good things in my life and used up those tears for that instead of for sad tv show or as tears of regret.

I would have never have bought anything just because It was practical, cheaper, or lasts a lifetime.

I would have enjoyed every hug and kiss from anyone who loved me and never ever shrugged one off, not matter what.

There would have been more I love yous and more I'm sorries

I would be grateful for the walks at the beach,

I would make turkey burgers on the grill on a summer day, fall day, winter day, spring day, any day that I felt like making them

I would stay up late to watch BBC Mystery and wake up refreshed the next day

I would let the little dog snarffle in the bed longer, bark a second longer at the UPS man and play with his toys longer late at night

I would stop everytime to listen to Diego talk up a storm as he came downstairs from his parent's apartment and enjoy the moment of his joy,

I would watch the roses bloom in the garden and realize they are there because we loved them,

I would get the bike out and go for a little ride even if there wasn’t time, there is always time.

I would want to know that I used up everything God gave me as a gift, as a talent and love in my life instead of keeping it at arm’s length or ignoring it.

I would use up every minute with more awareness and gratitude knowing that moment is the gift

Live the moment and never give it back unused, it’s a waste of the most precious commodity you’ll ever have in life. More precious that air, water or gold.

The small stuff is small stuff don’t sweat it. Repeat DO NOT SWEAT IT.

And Don’t worry who doesn’t like you, has more or is doing something you’re not doing, who cares. Cherish the things you are doing and the people who matter to you.

Jobs, bills, jealousy and anger build barriers between us and what really matters. It’s easy to forget what living is supposed to be.

Get up right now and call someone you love, e-mail someone you have been thinking about, apologize to someone you know you hurt or forgot, kiss the person you love most as if it was the last time and hug them like they matter.

Janet

French Thoughts in October

The ile-de-France Film Group sent us questions about Paris. Of course I wrote very long answers which I then had to edit for the newspaper. However, I thought might as well pop the long version on the blog since it was written. More to come on yesterdays adventure in the Louvre later. It was closed and they let us in to roam around with a guide. If you can imagine what it is like for 7 people to walk through the Louvre alone with all that art at your fingertips, it's pretty surreal.

So here are the questions and answers. Enjoy.

What does the Ile-de France mean to me. What does it evoke.


1. Paris evokes strong feelings in me because it I have always felt it is a city that needs artists in order to express it’s complexities – the architects, designers, painters, musicians, writers, performers, all give the city something it has to have in order to exist. That being said, the city gives artists inspiration – inspiration that comes from the place itself – there is something in the land, in the shape of the Seine, the way in which the Ile Saint Louis evolved and became the heart of the city that creates a desire to belong. An energy exists in the bedrock of Paris. The energy is instantly challenging, beautiful, and addictive. It pulls you in and says, “This is part of you and you know it…” It is really impossible to put into words because it is intuitive. I have always thought that Paris came from man’s need for beauty and a place to see, create and experience beauty. To look at Paris as you cross over the Pont d’ Alma and look at the view around you, everywhere your eye rests is breathtaking. It is as if the city sprang from the mind of a brilliant artist, everything is in the right place and invites you to dive in.


2. What particular images does Paris evoke? When I think of Paris, I first see in my mind the Jardin de Luxembourg in the late spring – flowers everywhere, children playing, dogs being walked by their owners, the carousel, the fountain, the palace, the sense that there was all the time in the world. My very first moments in Paris, years ago, I walked to the Jardin. From the Jardin I went to La Coupole for dinner. Strolling down Rue Vavin to the Raspail and Montparnesse, I passed the shops, the green pharmacy crosses, the inviting boutiques; there was a papiere, a linen shop, a fromagerie, which all still live in my memory of that first day. (And the room at La Coupole, grand, elegant, fun. I had salade frisee, frite and vin rogue, served by a very young, very cute waiter who had a great head of dark hair, a lovely smile -- right out of – a movie.)

To me the Jardin and the walk to La Coupole are always special images because they were first and they were wonderful.

3. Historical Event. Being a lover of history I would have to say the French Revolution, and within that the speech Thomas Paine made to the Assembly about mercy which marked the beginning of the Terrors. One of the most dramatic and compelling and passionate moments in French history were those three days when they discussed the vote to execute Louis Capet.

4. Writer? Impossible to mention one. That would be like asking someone to name a favorite note in Mozart’s “Symphony # 40” or I suppose I should say in Debussys’ “Pavane pour Une Infante Defunte” since it is French and I love it so much. The first writer that is Paris to me is Balzac –(Love that statue by Rodin.) However, to mention Balzac means I must at least add; Colette, Alexander Dumas, Voltaire, Sartre and Rilke, .

5. Director. Patrice Leconte captivates me no matter what subject he approaches with his films. And of the grand masters of the past, Jean Renoir and François Truffaut.


6. Favorite Paris Film. It is impossible to name one and hard not to make a very long list

Les Enfant du Paradis – Stunning visually, it captured the life of artists on the streets.

The Beat My Heart Skipped (Da batter mon Coeur s’est arrete) - So compelling I sat through it twice. I liked the world of the Paris gangsters and the journey of the main character who struggled in his choice between beauty and violence, within himself and within his life in Paris.

The Girl on the Bridge – Vanessa Paradis and Daniel Auteuil looking amazing, and making every woman want to go to that bridge and find Daniel Auteuil and join a knife throwing act. And while they travel the Mediterranean, they both want to end up in Paris. What more is there to say?

Funny Face – Beautiful, Audrey Hepburn, winged victory, jazz, black turtle necks, dancing, up all night and dancing with Fred Astaire.

An American in Paris – music, anything is possible, and Leslie Caron is magic and Gene Kelly dances in French.

Hunchback of Notre Dame – Charles Laughton as Quasimoto – that’s brilliant acting. For a film shot in the back lot in Hollywood you’d swear the film was shot in the period. Maureen O’Hara is ravishing as Esmeralda and the story makes me weep every time I see it. I am sure this is the first film I saw as a young child that made me want to go to Paris. I wanted to see where Quasimodo lived and saved the girl.

Amelie - This film made Sacre-Coeur look entirely modern and Paris a magical-realism dream. Funny, moving, charming, compelling and Audrey Tatou gets the handsome, down-to-earth man at the end.

7. What best characterizes Franco-American relations? Like most relationships – we both think the other one is crazy and love them to bits anyway.

A trek to Senlis Saturday 10-3

It is amazing here. My room looks out over the medieval garden from the 12th century. It was incredibly cold the firt two nights ,but we’re being treated to sun and blue skies today. Yesterday my colleagues, the most amazing group of screenwriters, took a little trip to a nearby town to pick up some supplies, computer bits, etc. and stumbled on to Roman ruins. The town was once Roman and much of the wall is still standing in parts, it was amazing to see something from 300 A.D. The town was picturesque -- cobbled streets and no house newer than the 1600’s....one building from 997 A.D. was still a functioning café...incredible.

Frank, Kasi and Jeremy are wonderful companions. We get along quite well and are a rather jolly group. Jeremy and Frank are both wonderful raconteurs, regaling us with stories from their various adventures in the film trade. We took a turn around the town and ended up following the Roman wall back to the Cathedral -- (pictures to be posted, promise) which was truly fabulous. Gargoyles and little scary looking stone men hung over the towers, popped from the tops of the gate and were seeming to be everywhere over the roof. Jeremy and I lit candles inside as the incredibly positive energy of good souls seemed to permeate the room.

On the road Jeremy's a fab driver, I tend to navigate, Kasi is co-navigator, so between the three of us we manage not to get to lost. And Frank makes sure we're entertained. We were giddy with the wonderful discovery of Senlis and decided to go into Chantilly to the new spa that had the gym we were allowed to use. Chantilly is a 15 minute drive from the Abbey, so we thought we would check it out. Quel shock...the spa looked like a bad bit of psuedo french chateau built in Orange County California -- it was definitely hit by the ugly stick. Once inside our opinion was exquisitely confirmed by the life sized horse statue (a bad one at that) with a lamp coming out of it's head. (Promise a photo of this) Frank suggested the statue could be improved if perhaps the horse peed champagne that you could fill from underneath, that would make the statue a real conversation piece. The place was that tacky. And the gym, well, two exer-cycles a tiny wading pool and a few barbells were did not make any of us become overwhelmed with the desire to suddenly do lunges and bench press. We figure we'll make up our own little gym affair at the Abbey. Perhaps a few laps around the enormous abbey?

On Friday we happened to take a walk to the music library where original scores by Haydn, Mozart, etc. are kept. A chamber orchestra was practicing Bach and we were just in time to stop in for a peeks when they started. So there we were, sitting in this ancient library listening to Bach in the middle of the afternoon. It was magical. Earlier in the walk a feather fell from the sky and I watched in amazement as it slowly twirled and wafted down to the ground. I'd never seen something quite so magically elegant. I picked up the feather as I considered it a good omen. Moments later there were the lovely musicians -- good omen indeed. Our next hope is to meet a ghost or two in the abbey.

E-mail - Life's Plague

It is after midnight and I'm still doing e-mail. Some intro notes to France, which feel akin to sending query letters to Universities, most to friends trying to catch up. The gorgeous weather made it hard to stay in all day. I did succumb and had tea in a friend's backyard--full of roses which were adoring the sun and a new puppy, Maude. Revived by tea I trekked from Kentish Town to Maida Vale -- where decent public transport does not exist -- that's why God made mini-cabs in London.

Cooked dinner and headed home where I did -- email. There is something wrong with that, but at least friends who are calling my US cell phone and getting a disconnect recording are learning that I've turned it off during this trip. Verizon has sucked enough blood and life from me already. Don't we all feel that way about the phone company?

Off to bed where I will not think of mobile phones or emails. I need to practice how to say wireless modem in French...yikes.

Cello in Motion

All right, between jet lag and heading to Maida Vale to see friends I did not practice French today, but I thought about practicing, does that count?

Tonight I saw the cellist, Matthew Barley perform the first motion-capture "Live" performance at Kings Place. Barley came onto the stage in the beautifully designed performance hall dressed in the motion capture black lycra suit and silver sensors -- sorry no pictures as cameras were not allowed. But to see this world class cellist in cat burglar gear was a bit jarring (especially the black "knit" cap.) But this link has some of the footage: http://www.plushmusic.tv/channels/DH0/matthew-barley---xtreme-cello

Then the screen behind him came alive and we were treated to motion capture and the music. While most of the imagery was not equal to his amazing music, I did wonder what might come of this marriage of music, technology live performance and a great visual stylist, say a Terry Gilliam or some brainiac from PIXAR. We all felt, my friends and I that this was a form in its infancy but now the Genie was out of the bottle. Some day, the visuals will catch up with the music. But tonight, it was just perfect to let Barley be the star of the concert.

Another stunning day in London, by the way. Hyde Park, Oxford Street and that "lovely" London Tube (not) were jammed. So it was a day to walk and make hay while the sun shines.

J

If it's sunny can it be London?

I flew into London yesterday and it was -- SUNNY! And today it was, SUNNY. Something I don't think I have witnessed in all my trips over, two absolutely beautiful sun filled days that could have been sent over from Santa Monica. To walk through London on a sunny, but balmy day is such a treat. You could walk forever. People were smiling, Hyde Park was full of men, women and children relishing the glorious Indian summer. An ice cream truck ambled down Hadley Road in North London and children went out in droves to buy popsicles.

There is so much to see as you go from block to block. In Kentish Town, where I'm in residence with my friends, Luke and Alex -- in a truly beatiful town house (a renovated grocer's) I pass the Bengal Tiger, a curry house with divine green curry chicken, a vast array of chutneys, vegetarian dishes that would make any carnivore forsake meat, and next the that is an Ehtiopian spot, two doors down a Turkish sandwich shop, a Mediterranean Food Hall, two great charity shops and the usual smattering of Tesco's, Superdrugs and Somerfield's. And every nationality seems to buzz about in this multi-ethnic neighborhood -- and the thing they have in common -- getting around in one of the most truly cramped cities on the face of this earth. Five days to France and I'm still bungling about with French -- it didn't help that I left my i-Pod, loaded with Michel Thomas CD's at home in L.A. Don't ask. Or that I've been so busy getting packed and unpacked -- also don't ask, that the days before leaving were a blur of Fed-Ex Labels, correspondence, laundry and errands to get everything in the U.S. -- if you've seen the exchange rates of the Euro and Pound, you'll understand. It is hard to pay 15L for a bottle of shampoo that costs $15 in the U.S. and realized you've just paid $28.00 for the same bottle of shampoo.

Despite all the last minute bits and pieces, I made LAX with time to spare. Where, of course the sneakers I wore set off the xray technicians screen (seems Nike put batteries in the sole of this model) and they took my shoes away to test for explosives. Oh for the days when you just sauntered to the gate and waited for your plane. Needless to say, said offending shoes were not lethal weapons and I was allowed to proceed.

After that I needed a drink.

But right now, I need some sleep so I can practice counting from one to ten in French without having a meltdown.

More sun predicted for tomorrow.

Can anyone say "J'regret?"

That will probably be my most used French phrase. Not being fluent in French, I find myself agonizing over the small bits -- you know -- and, but, Can't, can, what, who, etc. I know the words, but I'm at the stage of brain freeze -- like when you see someone you just had a meeting with three days ago -- except now you're outside a restaurant, or a movie theatre and they say "Hi___________your name here________" and you have that three second pause where you pray to God someone else knows the person and speaks up before you physically have to yank your tongue from the roof of your mouth and say -- the wrong name. So that is where I am at, tonight. Now, of course, I am fairly certain that one, if not all, of the other three writers are fairly fluent -- one has some type of abode in Paris -- so I am guaranteed to be at the mumbling and nodding end of the communication spectrum. Can anyone say "J suis humilié." But I will bravely and with "d'énergie" -- stick my foot in my mouth from dawn 'til dusk...and somehow be a better woman for it. Bon Nuit.

Photos of the Abbey

The new link shows the Abbey where we are going to live. More on that tomorrow.

Autumn Stories - Parlez Vous Français?

The woman on the phone was from the Writer's Guild of America, west, independent film committee; Kay Shaber Wolf. She asked the woman on the other end of the phone, groggy, up since 6 am screenwriter-producer, J, how she was...J repsonded, "I'm fine, and how are you?" "I'm good," replied said head of the international committee of the wga, w..."How would you like to go to France." Those words are still ringing in my ears. "How would you like to go to France?"""""""""Really...?" Is how I replied. "Yes," she responded, "they selected your film."

It is really shocking to "win" something...anything...the $25.00 coupon at the local Co-Op for groceries...with organic milk over $4 a half-gallon, that ain't chump, change -- however, seven weeks paid residency in France, living in a restored Abbey, going on a private tour of the Louvre, meeting the who's who of French cinema??????? Quel surprise! How does a local girl from South Central LA find herself being selected to travel to Paris -- yes the one in France -- with august, award winning fellow screenwriter/directors? Tune in to find out....