There is no music after 35?

This is hardly news, but with so many other distractions - vulgo "real life" - around, film music, although very near and dear to my heart, simply slipped through the sieve of the past year or so.

If you're an aspiring film music composer, you are probably aware of TCM's competition "for young film music composers". Last year (2007) contestants had to provide the music for a 90-second climactic clip of the silent (1924) version of Beau Brummel.

Here you can see the clip accompanied by the versions of the five finalists.

The 2007 TCM Young Film Composers competition


And I am proud to announce MY two winners:

Garth Neustadter and Edward White
(it's a tie).

They will receive nothing but my deepest admiration and enthusiasm.
(It may not sound much to you, but I can assure you it cannot be bought in any store. In fact, it cannot be bought, for love or money.)

What I don't understand is the rules of the competition: participation is limited to residents of certain countries, and there is an age limit (18 - 35 years), which, by definition, is arbitrary.

What exactly is the in-built bureaucracy supposed to weed out?

15 year-old composers? 37 year-old composers? 49 year-old composers? 81-year old composers?

I hear you: you're saying "but it's called the Young Film Composers competition".

And I am asking you: what exactly is the point of any competition with age limits?
(Let's not even go into the obviously murky philosophy underlying the concept of "young" in this particular case... I mean, what exactly is the basis for the cut-off age of "youth" at 35? Why not at 32? Or at 27?)

Do they want to find talented film music composers?
Composers who would write appropriate and attractive music for films?

Apparently not.
Because if they do, then there are a few atrocious elemental flaws in the thinking of those who devised this and any similar competitions.

First of all, apparently they do not believe in the existence of Mozarts.
(On the other hand, even Mozart himself was wise enough to kick the bucket just a few weeks shy of his 36th birthday, so who am I to question that arcane line of thought!)

Then, there is the clearly implicit idea that there is no use "wasting" time and space on anyone who is not a resident of the countries listed - because surely he/she would have relocated to any of the countries listed if his/her talents were worthy of attention.
(Just imagine: would a talented composer, even though he/she were a shepherd or basket-maker by day, stay in his/her native Dagestan, Romania, The Comoros, Turkey, Bolivia instead of moving to a civilised country?)

Just what do people imagine: that they should be able to seriously create and enter creative competitions at any age they please, regardless of where they live?!

Indeed: just imagine...
Imagine people of any age, from any country, deciding to give a go to something they think they are good at, to something they really feel passionate about.

Where would it all end, I ask you?!

If that is the philosophy underlying the framework of such competitions (and it seems to be), then I see little hope for the "civilised" world of achieving true social peace, which can only be achieved through the personal fulfillment and happiness of as many of its individuals as possible. (And that includes all the millions of individuals who have outlasted their "peak "industrial productivity AKA the "old".)

The dry bones of bureaucracy invite anarchy.
And frankly, I think that is precisely what is coming.

To those who are not yet totally blind, even tiny "young film composers" competitions can reveal the fault lines along which this civilised world of ours is about to crack.


Nothing of the above, of course, affects my admiration for Messrs. Neustadter and White.
I hope to be hearing more from them in the future.

Unless they follow Mozart's and TCM's guidelines...

UNbimbo, or the Light Alchemy of Madame Sarkozy

My love for feeling the pulse of the world as reflected in "trivia" has made my heart give more than an extra thump in the past few days.

I've always loved the art of strategy; and when strategy includes playing on the seemingly eternal precepts of beauty, I am in love. (With the strategy itself, not necessarily with its executor.)

Carla Bruni, now Mme Sarkozy, has gone to Britain on a state visit with her new husband, the French president - and conquered it hands down.

I knew she would.
How could she not? She has the poise, culture and self-assurance of the "well-bred", and the grace that once made her a "supermodel".

Nor was I surprised by her choice of clothes.
Some of the commentators expressed surprise at her "nun-like" attire (it tells you a lot about the general concept of elegance in this day and age, when mega-stars of the pop kind indulge in showing their privatest parts in very public spaces...).
What did they expect? That she would strut around in a mini and decollete down to here?

But the Dior outfit she chose for the first day of her visit is hardly "nun-like" anyway, if by that they meant 'unflattering'. Grey is not really the way to describe its colour (no more than red or green or yellow even begin to describe their nuances): it's "Dior grey", an enchanting slate/steel bluish grey that conveys a very "ladylike" (and sexy!) modesty while enhancing the delicate freshness of fair skin and bringing out the colour of grey, blue or green eyes. And combined with the daring black (oh yes: black is the daring colour par excellence) of the handbag and shoes, with the lady's beauty as its only "ornament", it's irresistible.

This is almost as good as it gets, I thought - until I saw the gorgeous violet coat with which she complemented another grey outfit today, and the sheer evening gown of the same hue (violet) she wore last night.

What fascinated me the most was the perfect harmony between her outfits and her colouring AND the colouring of the environment itself. Because, you see, this is an aspect of "style" that is seldom, if ever, talked about - and yet any woman of style (i.e. the opposite of a fashion ape) takes into consideration when choosing her outfits for the day: the colours and general "feel" of your environment - including the weather - will make your particular colours (skin, hair, eyes, etc.) look in a certain way. And it's hardly surprising: light is colour, colour is light - and light is always subject to change.

Of course, to enhance one's colouring does not equal fighting the local atmospheric conditions influencing the colouring - certainly not at all costs. (Which is where the occasion itself should be taken into account.)
And so, in a mostly grey/steel/green/mist coloured environment, such as London in the early spring, it makes perfect sense for a woman of Carla's colouring to wear an intense, bluish/greenish grey, which blends so beautifully with the "misty" and picturesquely "cloudy" atmosphere of oceanic islands, especially in a metropolis such as London, and especially during a strictly formal, state occasion. (A first lady, or the consort of any high-powered man, should never outshine her husband by the sheer "force" of her clothes and grooming - but she need not vanish into the woodwork, either.)

When the schedule become a tad less formal, Carla chose a light coat in a marvelous violet colour, with no frills or ornaments, to wear over (and complement the colour of) her grey outfit . The "water" tones set off by the vibrant violet made Carla graciously "acknowledge" her environment (always a sign of good breeding ; - and a must for a first lady, of course) and at the same time stand out from within it, not from without; it was as if she grew organically from the colours of her environment.

A warm cream/beige suit, perhaps with a very modest touch of golden thread, would have been another good choice, although it would have required an extra glint of sunshine.
(Late April is probably the best time - in the UK and many parts of Europe, that is - to wear cream/beige/gold.) And, of course, jewel tones - such as subdued emerald green - never fail in the "moist" and "misty" atmosphere, such as the early spring weather conditions in the UK.

The worst colours to wear would have been mustard yellow, pigeon grey, strident red (it would look just cheap), baby blue or baby pink, mauve, most brown hues, and even snow white. (And black, of course, is never worn before early evening, unless the circumstances dictate otherwise.)

Anyway, Carla delivered the goods, as I (and her husband, if I may presume of being able to read his mind) expected her. She came across as a vision of grace, beauty and culture: the UN-bimbo. Not for the first time, of course - but certainly at a very important occasion.

Knowing the lack of imagination that so many reporters seem to be afflicted by - not to mention the populistic mindset of their editors - the comparisons with Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy were inevitable.
But comparing Carla with Diana Princess of Wales?
It's not surprising, of course, given the fashion revolution that Diana introduced and which became her hallmark.
But the reports that draw such a comparison don't stop at the clothes and "glamourous" image, as they should. They push it further and generalise it - as if Diana were a role model for Carla (or for anyone) to follow.

I doubt that Carla will ever be the "queen of people's hearts" (picture a puking smiley here).
She simply hasn't been miserable enough to redeem herself for the outrageous benefits of her enchanted - if "wild" - life so far.

And I doubt that she gives a damn.