Colisee Cinema, where I caught a 2 pm screening of Robert Bresson’s L’Argent (’83). A very austere moralistic tale about crime and corruption. Inspired by Leo Tolstoy’s short story “The Forged Coupon.” Myself and six others were in the auditorium. I first saw it in ’84 in one of those awful shoebox theatres at the Beverly Center.
My Marrakech transportation rules, especially the color. The feeling of freedom and anxious excitement as you’re cruising along the streets and boulevards, swerving around pedestrians and slow bikers, getting honked at by fume-spewing taxis and buses, etc., is like nothing else. You’re a road warrior, a citizen of North Africa, and all cares and frustrations fall away.
Shoeshine guy — Saturday, 12.4, 3:55 pm. Corner of Rue El Moguouama and Avenue Med V.
The extremely helpful and gracious Marrakech Film Festival publicist & organizer Pauliine Moss of Le Public Systeme Cinema. Taken at Mansour Eddahabi hotel — Saturday, 12.4, 12:45 pm. I had lunch around the Mansour pool. Nicole Garcia (or someone that looked like her) came down and joined a group of six or seven at a table close to mine.
This afternoon I decided to suck it in and buy something evening wear-ish as a capitulation to Marrekech Film Festival standards. I went to five or six stores and couldn’t find a dress shirt with a small-enough Italian-style collar. (Big collars were the bane of my existence until small, slender ones came back.) So I bought this white shirt at a Lee Cooper store for 295 dirhams, or about 45 dollars. The collar is styled without room for a tie, but this plus my Sgt. Pepper jacket, black dress pants and black shoes will suffice.
