/ world today news/ A few days ago it was 90 years since the birth of Yuliy Stoyanov – a big – big name in Bulgarian film documentaries and /less known/ as a film historian.
It was about six decades ago. In a then newly built cultural center in the still-under-construction Druzhba complex, at least once a month we movie lovers gathered to watch a new film that was often not shown in the capital’s movie theaters. The screenings were preceded by talks, usually given by Todor Andreykov and Yuliy Stoyanov – about the “New Wave” in France, about Italian neorealism. For us, they were shamans whom we greeted with almost awe at the Hungarian Club on Rakovski Blvd., where today is the “Happy” cafe-restaurant.
A few days ago, in connection with the death of Yuliy Stoyanov, publications were published about the art of cinema in those years, when fashion was dictated precisely by French and Italian cinema. Memories came back of Brigitte Bardot, the sex symbol, as they would call her today, of the era, of Gina Lollobrigida, of Mireille d’Arc, of the directors Jean-Louis Trentignan and Vittorio de Sica, of the films “The Umbrellas of Cherbourg” and “And God Created Woman.” ..And how many more, not mentioned in this retrospective, our idols. First of all, Gerard Philippe, who seems to have been created to play the roles of Stendhal’s characters in “Red and Black” and “The Monastery of Parma”. To the manly Jean Marais we all wanted to be like. Michel Simon – Quasimodo in “The Virgin of Paris”. My childhood friend Banko Bankov, a classmate from the Hunting Language High School,/everlasting memory/ with whom we sat on the last row, was playing a sketch from “The Three Musketeers”, where Potos, I think, raised his palms, resting on his elbows, to withdraw from them the blood and they shine with noble whiteness.
We were holding our breath at Henri Georges Clouzot’s incredible The Reward of Fear, with Charles Vanel and Yves Montand; of René Clair’s “The Kindness of the Devil”: the Italian neorealist films “Rome Open City” by Rossellini, or “The Bicycle Thief” by Vittorio de Sica.
Then came the comedian of the century, Louis de Funes, with his The Policeman of Saint-Tropez.
And in the “Kultura” cinema, on the corner of “Slaveikov” and “Graf Ignatiev” square, /now there is probably some kind of supermarket/, in addition to scientific popular films, we also watched “Ordinary Fascism” by the Soviet director Mihai Rom. Why does today’s ribbon cutting in our country remind me of every newly built /poor, according to evil tongues/ a hundred meters from a highway or water supply, where the main actor is obligingly handed a pair of scissors and he, along with several others awarded with the high a frequent companion, also with scissors in his hands and, in front of the beaming faces of the enthusiastic audience, cuts a ribbon and carefully puts a piece of it in his pocket…
Well, it reminds me because in “Ordinary Fascism” there was an episode in which Hitler was making the first sod of something, and behind him an enthusiastic admirer of the Führer, peering with a beaming face sometimes from behind his left, sometimes from behind his right shoulder.
Well, now there are changes that should make us happy. The former “Dimitar Blagoev” and “Moskva” cinemas of “Grafa” are shiny supermarkets, my neighborhood cinema “Ivan Vazov” is a bingo hall, we have already mentioned the “Kultura” cinema.
But in those dark times, we stood in line to buy a movie ticket, and today I can choose from 200 or so programs with one push of the remote. American action after action with shootings, rivers of blood, supermen crushing the opponent’s bones with karate grips, jiu jitsu, freestyle and MM… For women, these prestigious sports are also accompanied by hair pulling. In what darkness I have lived for many years, I realized when months ago I had to lie in a rehabilitation center, where my roommate was F. from Isperich. When he woke up, he turned on some TV program, on which such masterpieces were broadcast 24/7, which, as it is fashionable to say, are a copy-paste of a copy-paste. And the lover of the broken soul-picker inquires intrigued: “Are you all right?” (“Are you OK”, well, it will not enter his personal space, it would not be politically correct). After which my roommate F. instantly fell asleep, but this is a topic for psychoanalysts, not for New Wave cinema nostalgics like me. Interestingly, this F. did not watch the Turkish soap operas, and they are a real school for sophisticated dialogues, as they probably sound in Buckingham Palace between Queen Elizabeth and Prince Harry.
Ah, yes, there were no bananas in those dark times. Which, with apologies, we didn’t suffer much because we didn’t know what a “banana” was or even an “avocado”. Look, I’ve seen a kiwi tying in a yard in Cave City. We somehow compensated with the red carpel and the white cherry in the yard of our comrade’s house at 50 “Georgi Sofiyski” Street/ opposite today’s VMA/, which was rebuilt after the well-intentioned American bombing on March 30, 1944. And then came the season of cherries, mulberries, quinces, pears… The tomatoes in the yard, planted by mother, were of the “ox heart” variety, such huge, juicy ones, the cucumbers, just picked, the stew from bagla.
But there were no bananas. And there was no “Superman” either. We indulged our taste buds with Gerard Philippe in “Red and Black” and Michel Simon in “The Holy Virgin of Paris”.
#bananas #action
