Skip navigation

Tag Archives: claire

Advertisements

I still really like to score, the score in the wound, driving for hours in the city, revisiting, slowing down driving off, ducking round, how many Esplanade lights have sat me in the drivers seat, bent soup spoon in hand westbound
how many times have I sat in Albany streets crack houses, so tired, so wired, nothing but daggers on the inside, paranoid checking the windows for cops below, my clamped tires, nevermind it will be alright, just past that smoke i’m expired
Petrol attendent knows my plate, says babe its late, says i’ll be right back, comes back, hand him 2 2s, swop for the toot, swop for the bupes, swop for the bruise, hit the toilet, rank stank, gangplank, one step junk, jump, dive, shoot, dive, suvive
how many times have I been lost in Embo, screaming down the phone, telling drunk dudes to leave me alone, travelling down unknown dark roads, seeing township folk tableaus, khat, smack, skyf, sugars, so hoity toity so not dirty yet shooting up nyope
Church is ripe with an evening service, workers and shirkers drink quarts on the corners, waves from the white guy in the toyota hilux, pick up the phone and pretend not to notice, Skeet appears in the rearview mirror, jumps in, drops packets and exits
14 dealers in a 10k radius, I congratulate myself for this supercilious web of comfort I weaved, I move like a fiend, i’m a scabrous queen, no friends now they’re weaned, now they’re apparently clean, now most are od.’ I got 3 more straws, think fuck it all, I still really like to score.

 

singles eat for twice the price

My shoes feel too tight

I’m high as I might

Just have ever have been, I fly out the door

Dissolve through the wall

I’m standing over your bed

slicing thoughts in my head

How fast  thin smiles change round here

We were throwing wits about just yesterday

Wine and beer and coke and cane

2 B’s, an E, diamorphine cocaine

Im to blame as the bups just don’t work

Nor rescue remedy I tried calling emergencey

But they just wouldn’t listen to me

So I’m blowing smoke on tree skulls

Fucking spider’s entrails

Licking blood, cleaning sheets,

Burning off the laptop keys

the moon  is at half

earth  in its pass

all for this fools behalf

Ill wax and I’ll wane

From hell I’ll abstain

swallow four myprodol

chased with valium as well

but there’s lack of respite

and the days stay as night

 

shedding bad habits

bedding entraptments

wedding  in blackness

fake sanity enactment

and I sit and I choke out the past and the wrath

and discharge the vipers lead the flame to the moth

cast one final smile then I’ll drown in the bath

sexxxed up lights flicker down the town is magic tonight

despite the dirtiest brown

im seeing straight with blurred vision intact

im feeling great  fifth demurred  incisioned whack

my well being  rates lift conferred ambition sacked

foreseeing  dilated clifts preferred  collision CRACK

Claire Angelique, Standard Bank Young Artist of the Year for Film 2010, screens her Jhb premiere of her new feature film PALACE OF BONE on FRIDAY 5 AUGUST 7PM at the BIOSCOPE INDEPENDENT CINEMA, 6 FOX STREET (MAIN STREET LIFE)  which showed to rave reviews at the recent National Arts Festival, Grahamstown 2011.

PALACE of BONE, is the documentation over a couple of months of the strangely unstable day to day life of Faith – a scarred but brazen and quirky twenty five year old.

Filmed entirely on cellular phones by her devoted best friend, the enigmatic Po, (who is rarely seen in front of the camera except in reflections, turning her back to Mecca…), we are allowed a voyeuristic peek into their friend’s squats, downtown bars and are privy to bedroom confessions. That is all until we realise that the ominous sequence of Faith’s actions due to likely severe psychological problems have forced Faith to escape the city and take to the hills.   

What we as an audience get to experience is Po’s last days with her comrade in the Palace of Bone; a euphemism for both the backstreets, backrooms and backdoors of the city of Durban and the cache of queer insights and outlooks of Faith, a girl who feels she is bigger than her world and thus has some rather unorthodox answers to curb her frustration.

The film ends with us only sort of certain that Faith was last seen on August 15 2008, smoking a joint beside rusty train tracks north of Botha’s Hill. What we are certain of is that there are six dead bodies in Durban harbour….

The film will be introduced by Claire Angelique who will be available to answer questions after the screening

”After the intensity and catharsis of  My Black Little Heart, her new film Palace of Bone is a step away from savagely personal. In fact it’s anything but autobiographical. Still, Angelique’s trademark dark, beautiful imagery pervades, as do the thematic obsessions with the underbelly and the underdog.’‘  – Cue

“To be assaulted by a South African film made by a young Durban girl which is totally original and unique and which is made with a total respect and understanding of film language is very rare, She is one the best that we have in South Africa, and her talent should not be ignored.”

-Trevor Steele Taylor, film curator National Arts Festival, Grahamstown

‘’Claire Angelique’s extraordinary Palace of Bone will undoubtedly create a far-reaching impact. Although it is an unconventional film, it is rooted in mainstream popular culture. In particular reality television and the technological devices that have engendered a culture of (self) documentation. Angelique enjoys blurring the lines between fact and fiction, so the reality/documentary mode suits her aesthetic well…. In a way Palace of Bone is a twisted whodunit. But there are so many levels of meaning in this fascinating mockumentary.’’ Mary Corrigall – The Sunday Independent

TRAILOR:

http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D1BPDoGZeSZg&h=_AQB45sHy

CLIP FROM PALACE OF BONE

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xGvrECdo0TU

FACEBOOK EVENT PAGE

https://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=214609325256299

THE BIOSCOPE CINEMA BOOKING PAGE

http://www.thebioscope.co.za/

 

 

 

THE WILD DUCK

Remember the night the city burned down. We were trapped in back streets charred, under the influence, faking smiles, the dude in the blue beanie had been sitting in the doorway of the Edgars store since early this morning, he had no ears but rapt attention. There was a group of us, five if I remember correctly, five of us who entered through the makeshift cinema at the Point and took advantage of the confusion. Breaking into modern day refurbished, city ‘rejuvenated ‘projects, mansions of cool, déclassé and worthlessness rolled into a corporate structure. We stole whilst we waded through the waters the foam of the fire fighters. Shannon screamed directions whilst we each took a room, looting and laughing, but that all ended years ago. we have had to grow up. No longer are we guaranteed good press for our sins. Straight and secular is the answer. No life for no lifers or something similar to the Nazi refrain. I’ve sunk all my senses into the new project, battling malaise, inertia, no home cept the lonely depths of mornings sans sunlight. In a room without curtains, they watch me, I’ve seen them. Sometimes I perform for their pleasure, boredom has that great a grip. And eruptions are no longer skin deep. They say    the body holds memories I say slay the body, pray to Harlequin for the rent and pull the tooth. The toothless are wonders that defy the well dressed charlatans that parade the inner city sanctum. I profess the unconscious call at my own demise. They want the film, they don’t want the film. I can make the film, I cannot make films. Reflections in the pink wine of an afternoon and my animas a rare bird stuck in her majesty’s jail. We lose our friends as we lose our memories regain them, have a tequila, figure the morning out. Drench it in sherry and good tidings, good mornings, good nights. The good fight. I listen to symphony I can’t listen to these imbeciles who carry some strange sense of entitlement of good grace, good manners, deportment, ethics…ha, who really knew the little fish girl, who swam with her before she sunk to those gorgeous grips where icy waves became sacred shrouds and failing that superficial glance of heaven fell in love with the oceans dark deep seductive force. Gravity will always win, you have to go down to get up. Fresh eyes are tired, me feels when stationed in their back room, begging infantile demands for that’s what makes a director in their world…a dumb distorted place…it wasn’t what we were looking for they lied, they cannot see so how can they even attempt to pry..and I’ll tell you why because of press because of awards and prowess and like the big independent screen available to all and sundry who care to pay the price they’ll provide shelter…temporarily but then what…oh more mortgage to the soul, more filters, more sanity..yes we are frozen beyond their clutches and I’ll defy god dammit I’ll demand a little bit more..the kid, the tramp the wanderer, the gypsy..taciturn eyes, garters down, petticoats up, more beef than brawn, more nuptials shredded via shredded paper, the age of letters is dead. So in this manic mania we steal, we fight. Temper tantrums, Oedipus and Faust come knocking at the door whilst skin must be clean, the plague on the pavements swept up and the age of wooden sculptures burnt by the fires of the homeless, the weak, the powerful, the cold, the icy cold that will not let up and will not let us sleep this sweet and airy night

beautiful cinematography by Anthony Dod Mantle - Chloe and Zuko - a scene from My Black Little Heart

My Black Little Heart

Friday 27 May 2011 21:00

The Bioscope – Johannesburg

286 Fox Road – Maboneng – Street Life on Main

R40

To be assaulted by a South African film made by a young Durban girl which is totally original and unique and which is made with a total respect and understanding of film language is very rare, She is one the best that we have in South Africa, and her talent should not be ignored.”

                    • Trevor Steele Taylor, film curator National Arts Festival, Grahamstown

Durban city’s underbelly gets ripped open in Claire Angelique’s début feature film My Black Little Heart. The Bioscope is proud to be screening this film, certainly one of the most daring and ground breaking film to have come out of South Africa. Claire will answer questions after screening..(further details below)

SPECIAL UPDATE – YOUR R40 includes DOCUMENARY AND AFTER PARTY

COME PARTY with us at the CHALKBOARD CAFE after the MY BLACK LITTLE HEART screening. YOUR R40 MBLH TICKET GETS YOU EXCLUSIVE ENTRANCE TO DJ’S, DANCING AND DRINKS (Licensed for the evening)

PLUS PLUS PLUS – a mini documentary about Jhb’s most notorious and controversial industrial band of the 90’s –  LIVE JIMMY PRESLEY.  Edited by the film makers into a 20 minute version especially for the night, LJP will screen just prior to MY BLACK LITTLE HEART.

Tickets can be bought online at www.thebioscope.co.za

Or visit http://www.facebook

FILM MAKER IN ATTENDANCE

EXCLUSIVE Q&A WITH CLAIRE ANGELIQUE POST SCREENING

Claire Angelique is the first female winner of the

STANDARD BANK YOUNG ARTIST AWARD for film.

Her new feature film PALACE OF BONE premiers at the

NATIONAL ARTS FESTIVAL

GRAHAMSTOWN 2011.

Set and shot in the city of Durban, My Black Little Heart pummels the viewer into a world where Internet porn on Durban’s beach front meets Nigerian voodoo in the inner city and a young girl from the wrong side of the track-marks finds herself stuck in a hazy sub-city seaside vortex of decrepit flats, poisoned streets and abandoned office blocks littered with self mutilators, ex-cons, gangsters, street delinquents, hustlers and addicts.

Telling the tale of a heroin user/dancer, My Black Little Heart, is beautifully shot by Anthony Dod Mantle (behind the camera of many of Lars Von Triers films). Using mostly non-actors, the film’s dark subject matter finds its counterpoint in its dreamlike and non-linear narrative. It chronicles both a deeply personal narrative and a city in transition. With a soundtrack by Chris Letcher and a resonating local narrative, the film presents a thoroughly original view of the world. Durban has never looked more beautiful or more ugly.

‘one of the best drug movies I’ve ever seen’ – Andrew Worsdale

‘you’re horrified, but you can’t quite tear yourself away’ – Shaun De Waal

‘This powerful film My Black Little Heart, by Claire Angelique, is about female sexuality, freedom and the rituals of friendship. It is a striking example of S.A cinema at it’s best’ – Barry Ronge

‘Occasionally at festivals such as the National Arts Festival one unearths someone one genuinely believes will rise above current constraints to become a beacon for others to follow. Claire Angelique is one such individual. Part kook, part poetess, resplendently slugging a can of Guinness, she holds court on all matters filmic.” – Mark Lloyd

Claire is unique, a true individual. She sees the world in a way that no one else does.” – Darryl James Roodt. “

If she never makes another film after My Black Little Heart she will go down in history as the author of the most powerful South African film made to date.” – Aryan Kaganof

Tickets can be bought online at www.thebioscope.co.za

Or visit https://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=195445973835124

https://claireangelique.wordpress.com/

http://www.youtube.com/papasalubi

are you dead or are you sleeping....i sure hope you are dead

we’re spread on grasses, spread out laughing about the downhill

I saw scott

everyone reflecting back

black

its scarf territory, its also kind of beautiful

he’s a shade of beige

she’s a rocking horse

i’m a grenade

that does’nt get paid

lets call a spade a spade

my darling

your vespa is insane

they gather in the street

its cold between the blocks

weird little shooting stars

weird good feeling all round

12 kids

9 boards

1 zean

3 lords

feel free to send stuff

he said

its all good its all cool

its for the kids

and stuff

more flashes more lens

plastic lamps pimped out friends

river phoenix to the right

a plastic man to the left

we can’t turn left he said

they can’t turn left he said

my mom was in love with her kids

all moms are

sometimes dad’s are too

sometimes we drink to you

and you and you and you

more flashes more lens

plastic lamps pimped out friends

river phoenix to the right

a plastic man to the left

we can’t turn left he said

they can’t turn left he said

they were right

http://www.thebioscope.co.za/2011/05/03/standard-bank-young-artist-winner-claire-angelique-presents-her-film-my-black-little-heart/

FILM MAKER IN ATTENDANCE….WITH RUM….FOR Q&A SESSION POST SCREENING

https://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=198147733560556

the yin and yang of vice

four of us. A strangely cool combination. I liked it. I liked hanging out with the cousins until, you know itss always the the that this next time thing. hubbly…… Everyone’s thing too bright. Clarity of thought is bad is only good when you remember it. This road felt like the other road looked like that road by the beachfront by seventh lane near loop near queens street. Her cat was street smart. We’re tearing up whispers on the top of morrocco. He said egypt was like yesterday stuck in tomorrow.

The pool is green and big, the table’s looking good, his asmatic approach made me laugh, her confirmation her nutty eyes

they’re happier without you I said

and next year we’ll all be dead. Like they say in durban, yeah bro i’ll do it tomorrow

my mom her bed her eyes

I cried

my hands the want the fuel

she sighed

the problem of cornettios

my problems like yours are all based on lies

one more beer and i”ll be just fine

serial hijackers raping serial rapists

I fear the scars will disappear

the broken leverage between lost art and lost soul

and the vapid toil of lost self control hey Cal, the hippy twist

fakes love loves fear

does it bug you when I say I don’t care does it bug you does it it bugs me every single night

I can”t I mean I can I mean’t what I said a bit of a long time not so long ago

different strokes for different folks is the feed fuck your mom and kill your dad is the deed

lets dumb this language down I hate this line I hate thiss line

finger tapping speed dreaming like lester bangs, I feel for you my friend

I feel your broken dreams

but I can’t pretend I am brave and I cant keep needing the living dead and I can”t see a straight line

anyway by that time we’ll like i’ve already said, we’ll all be dead

we all take what we get there’s no other face we’d rather all forget

I feel like i’ve started something i’ll never finsih

he read my palm

told me you’ll be doing what you’re doing for a long long time

he let go my hand and said

you’ll just be fine

I’ll be just fine

um

another impressive line

 

 

well done