Three recs, Tracy Chapman edition
A feminist Spanish thriller, a psychological French crime drama, a heartwarming British refugee film
The first time I went to Spain, I ran into Tracy Chapman.
In case you’ve never been lucky/unlucky enough (the truth is, it’s both) to spend a winter Paris, there’s something called le gris parisien. “The Parisian grey.” This a mildly poetic name for the genuinely horrific phenomenon wherein, for about four months of the year, Paris is monochrome. The sky, the buildings, and the streets blend into one another because they are all exactly the same shade of grey.
Coupled with the fact that it rains more in Paris than it does in London, this is just about enough to drive a Californian insane. And so, in February 2007, in the depths of le gris, six months into my junior year abroad in Paris, I convinced a friend that we should escape for a week to Andalusia, in southern Spain. Neither of us had ever been to Spain, but it was south and on the Mediterranean, and thus it had to be warm. Or, at the very least, it had to be sunny. Sunnier.
You can guess what happened next. Turns out Spain is warm and sunny. Just not in February. Or maybe just not that February.
Which is how we found ourselves sitting in the windswept Plaza Neuva in Granada, the snow-capped Sierra Nevada mountains and the crumbling walls of the Alhambra looming overhead, a sliver of cold, wintry sun cutting across us. It was going to have to be enough.
As I sat at that cafe table, wrapped in a wool coat, face turned to bask in whatever light I could glean, a familiar guitar chord progression drifted across the square.
Anyone who knows the song ‘Fast Car’ will recognize those opening notes. For me, they were the sound of family road trips, with a dose of the angst that defined my adolescence. They were the oppressive sun of Northern California on a dreary afternoon, and the bittersweet melancholy of wanting an undefinable something else.
Hearing them in Granada, though, was disorienting. I was somewhere else. I was on an adventure! Even more disorienting, though, was the clear, low voice that rang out, singing the lyrics.
My friend and I looked at the busker and then at each other. A tall Black American woman was serenading the plaza. She was so confident and relaxed that it almost felt as if we had interrupted her session, even though she was technically performing in a public place. We gaped at it each other.
What was Tracy Chapman doing in Granada?
Now, it’s important to remember that, in February 2007, we did not have smartphones. I don’t think we’d even brought our laptops that week, because they were big and clunky (see also: 2007) and hostel computers were a thing. So all we could do was furiously debate. Was it possible that this was really Tracy Chapman? Was she maybe on tour and just thought it would be fun to busk in front of the Alhambra one afternoon? Did either of us really remember what she looked like well enough to be able to be sure? What had Tracy Chapman been up to for the last decade?
As we debated whether or not we should go talk to her and find out the truth, she played a few more songs. There was something otherworldly about her singing in the shadow of the Alhambra. If you’ve never been to Granada, it’s a dramatic landscape, with cliffs rising almost straight up from the far side of the plaza, topped by the red stone towers of the Moorish castle. I found myself unwilling to risk breaking an illusion by actually approaching the singer, as if she might be Tracy until we spoke to her, at which point she would disappear or become someone else.
And then, the decision was made for us. She quickly packed up her guitar and vanished through an ornately carved archway.
That was it. I think we forgot to check later if she had been on tour, but it didn’t really matter. It was a moment out of time. We decided that we had seen Tracy Chapman perform almost just for us, because who could say we hadn’t?
Since then, my friend and I have drifted apart. But every so often, one of us will reach out to say, “Remember that time we saw Tracy Chapman in Granada?”
There’s another coda to this story, though. In 2019, I went back to Granada for the first time. The city was just as magical as I had remembered, and I still maintain that it’s one of my favorite places. But, one afternoon, as my husband and I wandered the winding streets of the medieval Albaicín neighborhood, I heard a few familiar notes on a guitar. And then a clear, low voice lifted to sing the hopeful, melancholy words of ‘Fast Car.’
In case you missed (the real) Tracy Chapman’s stunning Grammys performance with Luke Combs last weekend, enjoy.
I don’t really know how it happened, but this is somehow an all-film issue! Apologies if you were looking for TV, books, or podcasts, but I promise I’ll return to a more varied lineup next time. In the meantime, check out the archives if you’re looking for one of those.
And now, onto the recs!
Rec 1
Parallel Mothers/Madres paralelas (film)
Apparently this issue has a Spanish theme. My husband touts this 2021 Pedro Almodóvar film as one of his favorites of the director’s, and I’m pretty sure he’s seen every film the guy has made. I, however, had only seen one of his films prior to this one, so feel free to judge accordingly.
Penelope Cruz plays a woman in her late thirties who unexpectedly gets pregnant from a fling and decides to keep the baby. She shares a room in the hospital with a teenage girl, and they give birth at basically the same time. They get along, they agree to stay in touch, everyone is happy. Until a few months later, that is, when Penelope discovers that the baby she took home from the hospital is not actually her child. And that’s all I’m going to tell you, because there are some good twists to come.
This film could stand on it’s own as a film about motherhood, relationships between women, and how society treats women and our bodies. It’s got Almodóvar’s signature stylized theatricality and weirdness – as well as gorgeous Madrid apartment kitchens – and I always love seeing Cruz in Spanish roles, which I feel broadly treat her less like “a hot woman” and take advantage of her depth as an actor. (Or maybe that’s just Amodóvar, I don’t know.) The central relationship between two women going through the same experience at very different points in their lives is fascinating, and the exploration of different kinds of motherhood and family is nuanced and compelling without ever getting close to didactic.
But the advantage I have of watching this film with someone who knows Spain and Spanish cultural conversations very well is that I got to watch it through another lens, too: This is also a film about the legacy of Franco’s dictatorship and the Spanish Civil War. It’s about having hard conversations and facing up to the truth, something that Spain has actively chosen to avoid since Franco’s death in 1975. It’s about being unable to move forward without reckoning with past mistakes, as painful as that might be. And it’s about the hope that, on the other side, maybe things will be better.
Parallel Mothers succeeds because it does two things well. It’s a good thriller – it’s fun, gripping, heartfelt, and compelling – but it’s also a film with political statement. I don’t think it’ll be for everyone, and it took me a little while to settle into Almodóvar’s style, but I ultimately ended up loving it.
Where: BBC iPlayer (UK), wherever you rent movies (US)
Rec 2
Anatomy of a Fall (film)
I hope I’m not the first person to recommend this French film to you. After all, it’s been cleaning up awards since it premiered at Cannes last year and won the Palme d’Or, and is in the running for all the top Oscars. But I finally saw it and have been unable to get it out of my head for the last week, so I can’t not recommend it.
It starts out like a relatively straightforward crime/mystery thriller. A French-German couple and their mostly blind son live in a chalet in the husband’s hometown in the French Alps. The son comes back from a walk to find his dad dead outside the house, having seemingly fallen out of the attic window. It seems like a tragic accident. Until the vagaries of the French justice system turn on his wife (played by the outstanding Sandra Hüller, also in The Zone of Interest, which I’m excited to see this weekend) and she becomes a suspect in a murder no one can agree even happened.
Here’s where things get interesting. This isn’t a crime thriller. It’s a relationship drama, as the couple’s relationship gets dissected and put on display in the courtroom. They’re a couple with plenty of issues, but are they enough to kill for? Is their relationship more complicated than anyone else’s? And then there’s the other question: Is she the kind of person who would kill over these things? Because this is also a film about women in society. She’s an ambitious woman who was more professionally successful than her husband – does that make her ruthless and justify his resentment of her? She’s bisexual – does that make her a craven seductress? Her life, her choices, and her character are torn apart and attacked, both publicly and in the courtroom. As the film regularly reminds us, this isn’t about the truth; it’s about a winning narrative.
There are so many brilliant things about this film. The fact that the woman on trial is German and she mostly speaks English, despite being on trial in French, in France. Hüller’s performance is exception, but the young actor who plays her son more than matches her – the film would not work without him. Their relationship, as well as his experience of these various traumas, adds the depth and nuance that most crime thrillers lack.
I will say, I found the first hour of the film a bit slow, but it really takes off once the trial gets into full swing, and I understand why we had to get through the first bit and I do think it’s worth it. Also, for those of you who might balk at the idea of 2+ hours of subtitles, you needn’t: It’s mostly in English.
Where: Cinemas and wherever you rent
Rec 3
Limbo (film)
And now for something just a bit lighter. This British indie breakout film of 2020/2021 slipped under the radar thanks to covid, I think. I’m not the only one to think it deserved more attention – it was nominated for and won a number of awards.
Look, it doesn’t sound lighter: It’s about a young Syrian musician and refugee named Omar, who’s seeking asylum in the UK after fleeing the devastating (and ongoing) civil war. Along with a number of other of single men escaping conflicts and persecution around the globe, he’s been sent to a remote Scottish island to wait to hear about his asylum claim. They’re not allowed to work, and they’ve not allowed to leave, so they mostly just hang out, talk about their dreams for the future, and try to find a sense of purpose and meaning in the middle of nowhere. Some of them have been there for years, and there’s no sense of if or when they’ll be able to leave.
They are, literally and figuratively, stuck in limbo. Omar is even grappling with whether he made the right choice to come to the UK at all – should he have joined his brother in staying to fight? He could no doubt easily leave, if he wanted, but moving forward into the unknown is still unclear.
Despite this bleak set-up, and the obvious darkness underpinning Omar’s situation, what makes this film so special is its refusal to give in to hopelessness and nihilism. The same goes for the characters – they only made it this far because they refused to give up, and they’re not about to start now. There’s heart and plenty of humor, from the characters, the situations, and even the camera itself. (This is, it must be said, a visually beautiful film.) How else is anyone supposed to make it through the horrors of the world – which these characters have experienced in abundance – if not through hope, human kindness, and some laughs?
To be clear, I absolutely sobbed once or twice while watching this. How could I not? But it’s rare these days to watch a film that simultaneously looks right at some of the worst things happening and offers a sense of hope for humanity.
Where: Tubi + Freevee (US), and wherever you rent movies
That’s all for this week! What are you reading/watching/listening to that I should be aware of? Drop me a line (or comment) to let me know if you check out any of my recs and what you think.
Please spread the word and I’ll see you in a couple weeks.
xo
Kate
Did someone share this with you?
I love this edition! All three films going on my to-watch list immediately. And I’m visiting the Alhambra later this year and I’m going to hunt down Tracy for you.
What an evocative story, Kate! My first encounter to Tracy Chapman precedes yours by a couple decades and was not even close to the intimacy of yours. Circa 1988, I went to a Springsteen concert at the Oakland Coliseum. Tracy’s opening act stays with me to this day - far beyond any memory I have of The Boss.