| ALONE IN THE DARK : columns for Izola festival newspaper 'Daily Island' ('Dnevni Otok') |
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A GUIDE TO RECOGNIZING YOUR SAINT It's surprisingly easy to get lost in Izola... and I'm not talking (for once) in a head-in-clouds euphemistic-cineastic sense about becoming disoriented by cinematic overload (though this, of course, "goes with the territory.") I mean that, even on what is my third visit, I still find myself bemused and frustrated (if not quite dazed, confused) by the intricate maze of streets that constitutes the oldest part of town. Just this morning, trying to cycle my way from my seaside residence to the Dnevni Otok newspaper offices, I inadvertently found myself at the old church around which the old town has huddled for centuries, and which is perhaps Izola's chief landmark. It's dedicated to St Maurus, and is 460 years old, though the bell-tower - which stands in slight but conspicuous isolation from the main building - is a mere 422. Maurus was a disciple of St Benedict, died in 584 and his main claim to fame was apparently saving St Placid from drowning. He's the bloke you pray to if you're suffering from cold, gout or hoarseness, and is the patron saint of the Azores, of charcoal-burners, coppersmiths and shoemakers. Given Izola's history, however, he was no doubt also invoked against the black death or bubonic plague, which ravaged Izola during the great Istrian epidemic of 1629 - perhaps the pivotal event in the town's long history, the moment when it ceded prominence among this area's coastal settlements to nearby Koper. What, then, does all this have to do with cinema in general, and Kino Otok in particular? Well, protection from drowning always comes in handy around these parts, especially for those younger Otok-denizens who, post-Punta, cool off by leaping into the bay's invitingly limpid (and placid) waters of the bay. It isn't too fanciful to suggest that Maurus looked after us down in Manzioli Square last night when, from midnight to 0130, we were spellbound by Vittorio de Seta's 1961 admirably tough Sardinian epic Bandits in Orgosolo (a film which triumphantly proves that man, animal and cinema alike are all, as James Benning nearly said, "functions of landscape) - and temperatures remained sufficiently moderate to ensure the official festival blankets were a luxury rather than a necessity. Any keen student of cinema won't need reminding, meanwhile, that charcoal-burners occupy a tiny, unlikely but indelible niche in movie history: during Roy Ward Baker's 1968 mini-masterpiece Quatermass and the Pit, researches reveal that "in the winter of 1341 an outbreak of evil at Hobbs Lane was recorded. Imps, demons and foul noises did sorely afflict the charcoal burners who had been sent there." Needless to say, such afflictions would never trouble the good citizens of Izola - not with a super-saint like Maurus looking over them. The story goes that, after spotting that Placid had gotten out of his depth, he pelted down the beach and "kept on running till he reached the place where Placid was drifting along helplessly. Pulling him up by the hair, Maurus rushed back to shore, still under the impression that he was on dry land. It was only when he set foot on the ground that he came to himself and looking back, realized that he had been running on the surface of the water." Beat that, John Rambo. Eat your heart out, John McClane. Friday 1.6.07  more Jigsaw Lounge coverage of KINO OTOK 4 official KO4 website |
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