“Right to Love”, a film.

I met Amina Zhaman during a party, and she was kind enough to invite me to a private screening of her new feature film “Right to Love“. I had already heard a few words about the film from a couple of friends who starred in it, but I was never clear as to what it was about. I am glad that I decided to check it out.

The film was a sweet romantic drama (if such a thing makes sense). I don’t want to spoil it for the real viewers. What I will say is that it was entertaining and it did remind me of a type of dating that is sort of forgotten now, slow, sweet and naturally occurring.

The film touches upon a sensitive subject, the love between a Muslim and a Catholic. What to do in such a case? Where to pray? Who converts to what? How will the families react? Is love enough to conquer all?

The film is directed and edited by Paul Kurti Kurti, an Alb-American filmmaker, and stars a mixed cast of different ethnicities (and religions) in it.

I felt that Amina (she wrote, starred in and sang the soundtrack for the film) did give answers in her own unique style. The film gives a different glimpse of the devout Muslim woman than the one which normally springs to mind: “Covered head to toe with a heavy burqa and constrained to the point of bigotry.” Instead, the heroine is a beautiful and well learned girl who comes to the big city to follow her dreams and succeeds in her own way, without compromising her religion or her principles.

The film is also a crash course for those who are interested to know something about Circassian and Albanian cultures without bothering with Google or Wikipedia. I liked the way the cultures were portrayed, but I just might add that religion to Albanians is sort of not as important as Albania. (Catholics and Muslims marry all the time and have healthy rambunctious if somewhat confused kids who celebrate both Eid and Christmas and generally don’t like pork)

Shpend Xani is the male lead opposite Amina. A better version of Zachary Quinto, he makes for the perfect lead with just the right amount of sinister and sex appeal. (Or maybe I just have a thing for tall dark and handsome). I have known Shpend for a while but I had never seen him perform, so the film was a pleasant surprise. I just wish there was a bit more drama to make use of the darkness and intensity within him. I think he will be formidable in the future.

I was very grateful to see Pavlina Mani act again. She sort of stole the show from everybody else. An intense, quiet but authoritative matriarch, she portrayed an Albanian mother with the perfect drama and stubbornness mix to make it believable (and a bit tearful to tell you the truth).

Other names, all friends starred and did a great job in the film, from Luan Bexheti, the villain who I would have loved to have seen throughout the film, Praq Rado, a very talented actor in the up and up, Bukurije Navon as the conniving sister who only appreciates money, and Ari Myrtaj who I love in every piece I see him in. More Ari please!

I did not know I was a friend of celebrities. Yay!

But enough gushing. Keeping in mind that it was a very low budget independent production, the film certainly had its own share of deficiencies. Personally, I could have done without some of the quotes from theater and such because it gave everything a didactic tone, and it slowed the rhythm of the story. I felt that there was too much preaching (after all this is New York).

The story required a stronger editing. Some parts could have been better if condensed or treated with a stricter hand.

I had some trouble with the makeup. Sometimes lighter is better. After all the female lead is supposed to be a simple and liberated girl, and makeup to me represents aggressiveness and preparation for war .

However, I do believe that the film will do well and will be liked in Europe. It is a crowd pleaser. It is a more professional effort than the other ones I have seen lately. It does open the conversation for more discussion (even though it is far from all thought provoking and shocking drama usually shoved down our throats as truly groundbreaking). And it is charming, just like Amina, its star.

I look forward to hearing more about it.

Revelry (or Girls and Houkahs)

I love getting messages from L. Straight and to the point: “Girls’ night out. Be there.” And even though my energy level is low and I feel partied out, I go. L has an infectious smile and a slightly raspy voice that she only uses in love. And she has a great dancing body that gets everyone revved up and moving. She does not mind stuffing her car with women who don’t drive and don’t have any other outlets but her. She does not mind herding girls through a modest Astoria building into a very large space where it is Thursday and houkas are free for girls.

We love being girls. A bit wrinkly, a bit jiggly, a bit over 35, but we are still girls. Some are married, some are mothers and some are both. But for the night, everyone is single and ready to party, thanks to L and her smile. 

Partying in your thirties and forties is a little bit different than your twenties. The phones ring but the jealous callers on the other side are usually the kids who don’t understand why their mothers are checking in into lounges and posting statuses and pics of large smoke clouds and languish eyes. Horror of horrors, their mothers are sexy!!! And getting more likes and comments than they do. 

I don’t have Facebook anymore so I am a happy camper. It would be nice to update my status every five minutes but it is even nicer to laugh until my mouth hurts and to feel woozy from all that orange smoke. As my friend put it “Our farts will smell nice tomorrow”. Not that girls fart but you know, just in the improbable case it happens. 

In a predominantly male environment, our group is Queen. We eat, egg the dancing girls on, stuff singles in each-others cleavages and pretty much let go of tomorrow. I don’t speak a word of Aarabic, but I understand shimmying, ululating, sliding and backing that booty up. Belly dancing New York style. 

Of course, they have Aarabic coffee (a.k.a Turkish, Albanian or Greek coffee). And of course we have dregs readers. Three of them to be exact. One of them tells me I will marry a millionaire, another tells me my old flame A is thinking of me and wants to return to me, and the other one tells me that I will embark on a very, very long road. All agree I will get a raise at work and will lose weight in the following six months. 

The other girls can’t wait. The other lovely L drinks one cup and turns it upside down, only to be told that she has no turning talent whatsoever and should leave it to the experts to turn. The same experts tell her to drink another one and let them turn it for her. This time it comes out perfectly. Ohh she is shivering, either from caffeine or excitement we can’t tell. But it is all good

Even the head waitress comes over with her lovely smile and shyly extends her perfectly turned saucer. She wants a read. She gets a read which is apparently very accurate because her eyes have become larger than the saucer she keeps holding like a holy relic. After all, her destiny is there.

Dancing starts again. Girls shake, writhe and contort their heaving bosoms to the distress of males everywhere. After all these are not virginal and shy, these are full bosoms that have nurtured children, given men heart attacks and engulfed countries. These bosoms know how to push the hips away and make thick thighs almost irresistible. Almost.

Our friend L is dying to get her reading, but her cup is not there. The busboy has whisked her fortune away together with the rest of the dirty dishes and remnants of dinner. She becomes upset and demands her saucer. That saucer. The poor busboy brings her a clean one (English is obviously not his first, second or even last language) and her distress level goes through the roof. All that caffeine for nothing. Another friend actually goes through the dirty dishes in the kitchen and returns triumphant. All is well. The destiny has been found.

Yes all is well that ends well. Both Ls are entertained and we can go home now. Our lives our waiting and everyone is going to work tomorrow. Hopefully some remnants of girls will remain. 

 

Relatives

I don’t know why some married people have this morbid fascination with a single person’s love life. I am not talking about nearest and dearest friends and cousins who truly love me and want to see me happy (or hope for perfect family photos, double dates, and/or a second driver in the family).
I am talking about relatives I only see in wedding and funerals, those that i know i am related to but not how or why.
This particular relative keeps asking me in a meaningful way if i have someone. She wants to penetrate my noncommittal smiles and evasive remarks. She probably has another “perfect” candidate to spring at me, or is ready to lord it over my stupidity for passing on the last one she proposed.
“Come on,” she says, “you truly have no boyfriends?”
Desperate to escape ( and a pox to my parents who told me that ONE IS NEVER RUDE to cousins, no matter how intrusive or inappropriate they are to one) i manage to murmur: “Can’t comment in front of mom now, can I?”
“Why not,” she persists, “Isn’t your mom your best friend?”
I can hear my mom holding her breath in the background. So I have two choices here: 1) I can present my mom as the evil Witch who guards my virginity with her life; 2) i can tell my cousin to stuff it.
However I am more astounded by the idea that my mom can indeed be my best friend. My first thought is: “b-b-but why? She is mom, she is superwoman, why be my best friend too?” There is no question about the love and respect we share. She gave me life. But why be my best friend? Can moms be a best friend? I don’t want to hang out in pubs and braid hair with my mom. And I don’t want her to know every detail of my singlehood.
By the time i murmur sth, my relative has moved on to bigger and better gossip. My mom is visibly relieved though. She does not want to be my best friend either. She already has my dad.
And I am safe until the next funeral or wedding, whatever comes first.

Resolutions

I have only one this year: Forgiveness.

Two things have resonated with me last year: the fact that I can actually cause harm and the fact that I don’t find it easy to forgive anymore. I am sure age and life experience have something to do with the changes in me. They are probably completely justifiable. However, I don’t like to spend time thinking about the slights (true or perceived) that I incurred. It seems like such a waste of energy to keep a grudge on someone that I once liked and respected enough to spend time with. I know that if they were to knock on my door tomorrow, I would still help them.

Why bother to be someone I am not? Why fight with  myself and suppress my smiles in the vain hope that the other party will “understand their behavior”? If I was not smart enough to notice or stop these people from enjoying my friendship before, why bother now to punish them when it does not hurt them anymore? What lesson am I trying to teach them? What makes me think that they are willing to take that lesson from me now?

I am not an angel of course, nor do I want to be at this point. I just want a clean conscience and an easy heart. I want myself to be well-mannered and sweet. I want to be free of anger and resentment. I want to remember that people have ways to communicate with me and if they chose slight or abuse, I don’t have to follow the same route.

One person I know told me he was sure that I did not cause harm not because I was a good person, but because I was powerless to do so. I was angry at the time. I indulged in fantasies of harm and malice against him and other people whose mouths speak without permission from their brains, at least when it comes to me. I think that the anger came from the fact that I did perceive myself as powerless. I thought that if I could not do anything, I could do no harm either. That automatically made me a good person.

Well, guess what, I found that I could do harm. I had forgotten that. As yucky as this feeling was, it was strangely reassuring to see that I had the power. I could make people feel even if it was loathing or anger directed at me. And that I decided whether I could use that power or not.

I decide not too. I sent everyone I could think of Season’s Greetings. I decide to continue being careful and well-mannered when it comes to people. I decide to help all I can for another year. I decide that people I am mad with, usually do not deserve to see my anger or upset. So I smile at them and the world instead. Let them make the effort of erasing me from their lives. Let them live their lives with anger and upsets over someone who is not important.

I have thought about it for a while and I have come to the conclusion that I like being a speck of dust in the Universe and writing my stories. I intend to do no harm. These are the things I can stand behind and endeavor to achieve. I raise a glass at the health of all the people I have known and who have known me until now and wish them clarity. Or everything else their dear little hearts desire. Be well so I can be well too.

Happy 2013!

New York Celebrates (or what I did on Independence day)

I wrote something very smart and very funny here but it disappeared and I have no more energy. so in short

Films, flags, fun, dance, wine, flags, food, folk costumes, flags, eagle drinks, eagle tattoos, eagle facepaint, flags, crazy cars, crazy guy on top of statue in times square, flags, fake guns, friends, fine company, flags, cake, politicians, daily news, dead batteries, hoarse voice, and yep you guessed it, flags.

going to sleep

happy Independence day! happy Liberation day!

The tourist

She walked into the cafe, her eyes scanning for a quiet table, her body grateful for the coolness of the air conditioner, and her hand depositing her cell phone into her bag. She needn’t have bothered. The place was empty but for two waiters, a bartender and someone on a business suit who looked like a manager of sorts.
She chose a table by the window and made herself comfortable. She took out her book, her cell and a small compact mirror. She checked herself quickly, considering then deciding against dabbing her face with the powder. It was still red. She decided to blot it with tissue instead.

The waiters eyed her from a distance until she finished with her preparations and opened her book. Then, the youngest one sidled over and stopped in front of the woman, notebook and pencil at the ready.

-Hello, how are you today? – he said.

- I am fine, thanks – the woman said. – hot isn’t it?

-Yes, we have air-conditioning here. We are lucky the electricity held. No interruptions at all.

-Good.

-Yes, yes. What can I bring you? Do you like ice coffee?

- I am actually looking for something different…maybe wine.

-Wine? In this heat?

-Yes, red I think. It goes with my book

The waiter eyed the book suspiciously, then the woman and her pensive smile. “Tourists!” he thought. But a client was a client.

-Ok- he said, – I’ll bring you a glass of red wine.

-What wines do you have? – she asked. – Can I maybe see the wine list? .

- Ok – he said – I will bring it to you.

He did bring it, handing it to her proudly and carefully. She took the cardboard in her hands and perused it just as carefully, finally settling for a deep, rich red from South America. She was surprised to see that particular wine on the list.
- Is this what you want? – the waiter asked, and she nodded.
- We don’t sell that by the glass. There!- he said and pointed at the menu.
-See, when there is no price by glass, it means that we only sell it by bottle.
-I know that -she said, a bit sharper than she intended. – Ok, just bring me the bottle.
-The bottle? The entire bottle? – he asked.
-Yes, the entire bottle. – she answered. -is that a problem?
-Nno, but it is expensive. Why don’t you just choose one of the wines by glass?
-I want that one. It is ok, i just like that particular wine.
-But you won’t be able to drink it all.
She stared at the waiter intently, scouring his face for any signs of sarcasm. There were none. He was seriously concerned.
-Look, just bring me the wine ok?
-Ok- the waiter said and walked to the corner. He started whispering to the manager, throwing some looks her way and rubbing his forehead nervously. The manager stilled him with a hand, then approached her table. She raised her head.
-Madam, did you ask for that bottle of wine? – he said.
- Yes, I did- she answered.
- The whole bottle?
- Yes, the whole bottle – she said – Is that a problem?
- No, no, no problem. It is just that, we can’t sell it by the glass, you understand?
- I get that. The bottle is fine.
- It is expensive, that’s all.
- Is it the same price as the menu?
- Yes madam, we’re a serious establishment here.
She almost burst with frustration.
- Then bring me the bottle! – she said – My husband and I…
- Oh your husband is coming?
- He is on his way, yes.
-Ok!
The manager left. Presently the much debated bottle and two chilled glasses appeared at her table. Her husband arrived shortly after.

Something fun

I wrote this story back in 2007 and a friend of mine is now making a short film out of it. It is a lot of fun (but also work) to be involved into such a project. We found a very appropriate super.

If you want to reread the story, click the links below.  I will post pics and production news later on. I am also running a little financial campaign to gather some funds so let me know if you’d like to donate 10 dollars or so.

Thanks for the support given and expected.

The Superintendent 

The Superintendent II

The Superintendent III