Users Today : 67
Users Yesterday : 74
This Month : 141
This Year : 24623
Total Users : 77369
Views Today : 426
Total views : 1112675
Who's Online : 2
Willy, Herby and Harry: Better Late than Never
The Assembly-Line Prince/Der Fießbandprinz was completed in 1973. I was 37 at the time. I had a real-life protagonist, Herb Andress. He was my age. I am now in my mid-eighties. My friend Herby passed away back in 2004. An adventurer, Casanova and rascal went the way of all flesh. I mourn him. I said, “Herby, I will write an honest account and make it read like fiction, but it will be you, and I will describe the adventures that you have had some being “close calls! And not always being considerate to women, to put it mildly. But it is a story that had to be written and it was made to measure for me.
176 Seiten/pages €18,- (click here)
Willy Verkauf-Verlon sent me a selection of new poems shortly before his death in 1994. I selected some, translated and added them to Seiltänzer/Tightrope Walker.
Willy Verkauf-Verlon, artist and poet had a peripatetic life
which took him from Austria (in 1938) to Britain, Palestine
and back to Austria again. The poems reflect his Jewish odyssey
with incision and humor. They accurately depict post-war Austria
and the world in general as viewed by a Jewish individualist
and non-conformist.
104 Seiten/pages €12,-
Willy Verkauf, Künstler und Lyriker, hatte ein paripathetisches Leben, das ihn von Österreich nach Großbritannien, von dort nach Palästina und wieder zurück nach Österreich brachte. Die Gedichte spiegeln seine jüdische Odyssee mit schneidender Schärfe und Humor wider. Sie zeigen das Österreich vor dem „Anschluss“, in der Kriegszeit und in den Nachkriegsjahren aus der Sicht eines jüdischen Individualisten und Nonkonformisten.
I have published books of poetry by Else Keren, Tamar Radzyner, Stella Rotenber (Mnemosyne, Alekto), Alter Brody and Wände/Walls: Austrian Jewish Poets (Proverbis) and Alter Brody (PEN Austria/Löcker). Samuel Greenberg translated into German by Ecevit Unzunkaya is on the way by same outfit.
Gerald Grassl of Edition Tarantel has adopted me and become my Maxwell Perkins. I am in his debt. He has salvaged both Willy and Herby. I am eternally grateful to this marvelous man of culture.
Next I will relate translation shenanigans that I hope will bring amusement, rather than mordancy.
-Herbert Kuhner
contact:
Gerald Grassl
Redaktion Tarantel
Vivariumstraße 8/4/18
1020 Wien
tarantel-wien@gmx.at
Film Accents and Contractions
Have you noticed that in most American films set in foreign locations, the actors playing the foreigners use accents and they don’t use contractions? That is because, although they are actually speaking English, they want to create the impression they are speaking foreign language. Thus, they try to make the dialogue sound strange.
That’s all wrong!
When foreigners speak their own language, the language sounds natural. Thus, when the film is made in English language, the dialogue should be spoken in a natural and unstilted fashion.
On the other hand, if the story takes place in a location where English is spoken, and a Frenchman, or what-have-you, turns up, he, of course, should have an accent.
In Papillion, the method was right. The plot unfolds in France and French Guiana. The actors were all English native speakers who were playing Frenchmen, and they all spoke English naturally. If a character had shown up with a French accent, he would have thrown the whole film off.
See what I mean!
No Monitors for Mansur
and No Smoking for Spielberg
Steven Spielberg had heard of Mansur Madavi. When he was in Vienna for the showing of Schindler’s List, he sent a messenger with a request for a cassette of Dicht hinter der Tür. Madavi told the messenger that it was impossible to judge a film on a TV monitor, but that he’d be glad to show Spielberg the film on a large screen.
That was that!
„Bait“ German: „Zerschossene Träume“
While in Southern California, Peter Patzak was called upon to see Spielberg in his Hollywood building. I remember working for Patzak years ago. I rewrote his script of Bait three times, but if you ever view the film, you won’t find my name on the titles. Anyway there’s security galore and strictly no smoking. When he was let in Patzak sat down in front of the great director made a joke about the security and lit a butt, grimacing à la Bogart.
That was that!
As Austrian filmmaker was hustled out by a bevy security guards, office toadies were flitting spray cans. But back to Mansur! I beg to differ. I’d rather see a film on my old fashioned TV-monitor. I saw The Robe back in 1953, which was the first Cinemascope film. I was eighteen at the time and I’ve always despised the stretched view since then.
Now it’s called Wide Screen and the TV versions are called Flat Screen or Panel-TV. Cinemascope has finally done in its competitors. The rectangular screens are as dead as dead as the proverbial door nail. Today all films are viewed through a giant mail slot. Anyway, broke my vows and went to see A Single Man, based on the novel by Christopher Isherwood, which I read in 1964.
On my left there were two empty seats, which were then occupied by a couple. To my dismay, the young man carried a bucket of popcorn in bright red-white-and-blue colors. The container merited the word “bucket;” it was huge, so there was no hope of them getting to the bottom of the bucket soon. After they sat down, the sound of the chewing and crackling, as well as the smell, were overpowering. I stood up and excused myself out of the row and took an empty seat a few rows back, hoping that no other occupant would come, since the seats were reserved. Loud trailers and ads and then the film! Not only is it impossible to get characters standing up without a panorama to the right and left, close-ups consist of cut-outs of faces. With all the distractions, I couldn’t judge the film. Actually this is a commercial advantage. They all look and sound alike. No good ones and bad ones. For this viewer, only bad ones.
No, I prefer viewing at home, but when my old set breaks down, I’ll be forced to replace it with the ubiquitous panel. But at least there will be no popcorn.
Popcorn and Gum
The Cineplex is a nightmare. There’s popcorn galore with its overwhelming odor, as well as the snapping and crunching sound effects. But that’s not all, on top of that, there’s the snapping and popping of gum. These sounds can be heard over the constant breaking of the film’s sound barrier.
Sorry, but I’d rather stay home and watch old black-and-white movies.
to be continued . . . 
– Herbert Kuhner
Catching an Image
For three decades I’ve been passing the display window of a photographer in my neighborhood. He takes bad photos, and I have yet to find a good one in his window. My question is: can’t he take a good one by chance? Can’t his lens catch a good composition and channel it onto the film of his camera? The answer is no. Good artists are magicians, and bad ones have the magic of always being bad.
If by chance, he did take a good photo, he probably rip it up.
The Magdalene Sisters
In the film The Magdalene Sisters young girls, who are considered wayward for one reason or another, are committed to a Catholic asylum run by nuns. They are exploited as laundresses and forced to do other menial tasks without respite or pay. The word for this work is slave labor.
The sadistic Sister Bridget, a merciless taskmaster, or rather taskmistress, drives the girls to work harder and entertains herself by demeaning them.
In one scene, she announces a beauty contest and orders the girls to undress. The girl with thickest pubic hair will be declared winner. The honor goes to Crispina, who breaks down sobbing.
The film viewer is afforded the same pubic view as Sister Bridget. (Might as well provide a visual thrill for the male viewers while you’re engaged in social criticism!)
Later at a Corpus Christi celebration outside of the asylum walls, Crispina starts yelping and cannot made silent by the nuns.
She is then taken off to what must be an even worse asylum.
Churches and Temples
In my childhood I loved the Church, the lilting organ and the smell of incense. I loved the priests with their vestments and the nuns in their flowing habits. And I loved the wonderful illustrations of Jesus with the lamb and the children on the bridge with the guardian angel watching over them.
But there was one edifice that appealed to me as much as the Church, if not more, and that was “the Temple.” This building too was a “religious.” Its entrance was lit with flashing lights and there were long lobbies that led to caverns of worship.
Front-center were curtains that parted to reveal a screen that turned into a world of adventure with moving images in black-and-white or in color. And in the old days these Temples really resembled “Temples.” They not only resembled Temples, they were Temples.
Today the images are still shown in buildings with interiors that are bare auditoriums –
the Temples are gone.
I still have nostalgia for the Churches of my childhood. They still stand, but my attitude has changed; the Catechism has long lost its validity. So even though the old Churches still look the same, I see them through different eyes. But greater than my nostalgia for Churches is my nostalgia for the Temples of yore.
to be continued . . .
– Herbert Kuhner
Samuel Laster, Founder & Editor of “Die Jüdische”
Samuel Laster and I had a mutual friend, the late Ernst Meir Stern, a man of integrity.
We miss him. We both had the privilege of being published his journal, Der Bund.
Here’s a quote by Ernst that I love. “Sometimes you hear grass growing before it comes to the surface.”
Yes, dear Ernst, like Sam, I too sometimes hear grass growing before it sprouts up.
This is the gift of being able to discern a silent sound, even before it becomes softly audible.
It is a gift that “troublemakers” sometimes have. They can discern injustice in its incipient stage.
“Troublemaker” of course is the wrong connotation. “Trouble-finder” is a better description.
We do indeed make trouble by bringing attention to malice, even when it is in its
incipient stage, that is, even before it comes to the surface like grass ready to grow.
Is this ability a blessing or a curse? It certainly does not make for comfortable
or pleasant living. However, if you have acute hearing, you cannot simply ignore the grass.
You are a trouble-finder who has to do his (or her) best to publicize incipient shenanigans.
So I say, Sam, keep your website, Die Jüdische, as well-honed as it is!
– Herbert Kuhner
