On seeing ONCE, friends, art and poetry

As a consequence of having a relatively quiet night last night, I bounced out of bed at 8:30am and set about doing things - which for me on a Sunday is highly unusual, let me tell you. It was a day of simple pleasures, but also a highly enjoyable day. I enjoyed the sunlight, the sense of vigor that comes with not being hungover in the morning, and a general sense of joie de vive.

I also:

• Read the paper over breakfast;
  
• Tidied up, wiped down benches, etc;
• Put out the recycling;
• Sorted through a huge stack of mail and media releases, sorting the wheat from the chaff, and started planning my radio show for the next couple of weeks;
  
• And listened to about 10 promo CDs I've been sent, which barely makes a dint in the stack of CDs on the coffee table, but at least its a start.

Then, just after midday, I set off to - finally - see the new Irish film Once, which I've been meaning to check out for the last couple of weeks.

And oh, what an utter delight it was. In all my years of movie-going, I don't think I've ever seen a film which so perfectly captures the joy of creativity; the fraught, awkward, painful pleasure of bringing a new work of art into the world. In this instance it's music that is the focus of the film; but any artist will appreciate Once, as will anyone who's not an utter curmudgeon; because it's also very much a film about love.

Tender, simple, and beautifully told, Once refines its story down to the fundamental basics of human need: for companionship and love. It also, partially through budgetary requirements, tells its tale with paucity and restraint; focussing on emotional honesty and truth instead of flashy cinematography or incidental detail.

In many ways, it's an archtypal plot told with the simplest of storytelling. Boy meets girl, boy and girl make beautiful music together, boy loses girl. I won't go into the details of the story, suffice to say that it's sincere and gentle and deeply moving: throughout the 88 minute running time of Once I was constantly wiping away tears - often tears of joy.

Please see it.

Please also see Experimenta Playground, a new media exhibition now showing at Black Box @ The Arts Centre, which I revisted this afternoon (via street art in Hosier Lane) after attending its opening night a couple of weeks ago. A word of advice though: Baby Love, an interactive installation which allows you to spin around dodgem-car style in a giant tea cup while being seranaded by a giant cloned baby burbling remixed love songs, is only on display between 12-2pm, and 5-6pm daily.

This afternoon's pleasures were extended by birthday drinks with my good friend Cerise, along with many of her cohorts. We drank, laughed and discussed drug abuse and the Hawthorn Football Club, among other topics.

Thereafter - isn't this turning into a gently action-packed day? - I headed home for an hour or so, then returned to the city and a rooftop performance by The Mime Set and poet Sean M Whelan, at the rooftop bar atop Curtin House on Swanston Street. Sadly, inclement weather brought an early end to the evening, but the combination of music, poetry, and the city skyline at night seen from a new perspective added up to a winning combination. The soon-to-be-voyaging GMan and a certain Hibernian seemed to agree with me.

It's been a simple, busy, happy Sunday. I hope yours was equally enjoyable.