Drowning In Berlin

Doesn't he look like he's sitting down to have a shit?

Anyway, bollocks to rugby and its fair weather friends who couldn't tell you the names of any of the London Irish or Wasps or even who the Barbarians are but who will be watching tomorrow's match with their hearts in their mouths. Was I like this in 1966 when millions of people who couldn't give a shit about football cheered on our lads in red? Of course I was, I was a four year old cynic.

Anyway, there's something much more important to look forward to.




Berlin Alexanderplatz holds a special place in my heart. It was there for me in my loveless eighties. I recorded it on the family video and watched it late at night, when my mum and sister were tucked up in their beds. According to my research, this was 1985, I was 23 years old and should have been married with a kid or two or at least living in sin with some Luther Vandross loving bird, but I was waiting for the "right one" who would appreciate my art film and eclectic music loving ways as a gift from God and not as grounds for running off with someone less "weird". Yes, I was no catch, but the films and music made my own company tolerable.

Every now and then I ask Betty if she saw Berlin Alexanderplatz. I say it was the best thing I've ever seen on tv. Each time she says she didn't see it. Each time I forget, and a couple of years later I ask her again.

There'll be no more such questions soon. Because the DVD's out next week. I hope it's as wonderful as I remember. Although I remember nothing, of course. I'll come fresh to it. With all those years of experience under my middle aged belt.

I love Fassbinder and I love his muse, Hanna Schygulla.

He was very much in love with her, you know.