I’m a pretty amiable person. I appreciate being invited to things. Which is how I ended up watching Ingrid Caven serenade Werner Schroeter at the Gartenbaukino last night. That was something.
Caven — who was Mrs. Rainer Werner Fassbinder, once upon a time, and appeared in several of his key films — is 70 years old now, though from where I was sitting she seemed at least twenty years younger. And her musical stylings were rather spectacular, in that Madeleine Kahn-in-“Blazing Saddles” kind of way.
(She’s doing a full performance tonight, of which the Viennale writes: “The concert promises to become a roller coaster ride of feelings and tones.” And yes, I imagine it does.)
Of course, before Caven could perform, Schroeter had to sit through over an hour of tributes from friends and colleagues — all in German — which he kept interrupting with muttered asides and the strangely formal compulsion to present every one of the speakers with a rose from a large vase set in the middle of the stage.
I don’t think the set designers had intended him to harvest the prop, exactly, but the audience seemed to enjoy it.
More screenings today — three, I think, with the possibility of squeezing in a fourth at the last minute. I’m also planning to catch Mark in conversation with Miguel Gomes this afternoon — I doubt anyone will be handing out roses, but it should be an interesting talk.