about this blog

So here it is, a blog about my journey to see Third Star. It took a while, but now I've finished it. The sequence is reversed, so you'll have to start reading at the end to get it in the right order...or use the side bar to navigate through the entries.

In any case, I enjoyed this immensely and can only say thank you to everyone who made this journey an absolute blast.

from London to Berlin

 *heh, of course the homeless lady only receives her assignment and money under Waterloo Bridge :p

Returning Home

The last two days in London were spent with friends. One of them lives up north and I got to see the lovely view she has every day when she goes to work.

This is Belgrave Road. The view from the Hostel window. It does feel a little bit like home.

And, surprisingly, there were some moments when the sky clearned and the sun came out.

This is a small park in Vauxhall. There is a playground with this sign at its gate. I just stopped and laughed for a minute.

And the moon wa a constant companion at night (when it was clear enough to see the moon)

 

The last evening was spent at the National Theatre.It was raining a lot, so I went there and got one of the last ticket's to The Cherry Orchard, which is absolutely fantastic. It was also strange seeing a completely different play at the Olivier after having seen Emperor and Galilean just days before.

And on the day I was leaving again, I received a lovely send off by some friends who met up with me at a pub close to Victoria Station. While we had lunch, it started raining again. I don't think I've ever seen this much rain in London during one single week. The few times that I had been there before, it had been quite lovely, no matter the season. It was so nice being surrounded by friends before leaving. Most of them had seen Third Star before, but I was still a little shaky about it, so our discussion of the film pretty much ended up being something like: "yeah, you're gonna hurt for a bit."    

But rain is nice, because there are puddles everywhere and I love puddles. That's at the coach station just before I got on the bus back to Stansted. 

 And, through the darkened window of the airport...the plane which would take me back home. I really didn't want to leave

Above the clouds the sun was slowly setting.

Is there anything more beautiful than touching the sky?

 Back in Berlin. Greeted by a lovely sky and the urge to just get back on that plane and fly back to London to do it all again.

 Waiting for the luggage...last part of the journey.

It was so late by then that I couldn't catch a train back to Leipzig, so I had my mum come all the way from home to pick me up. I barely ever have anyone waiting for me at the gate when I travel, and sometimes I love watching the people waiting there for their loved ones. So it was really lovely to have my mum wait for me there. I got to drive home and told her about the journey. And about Third Star. My mum wants to see it, too, but she'll have to wait until the DVD is out. 

 

I wished that this amazing film would have actually made it into the German theatres. Maybe one day it will. Some indie movies have made it onto the German screens, like Four Lions, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed. 

 

So that leaves me with only one last thing to do, and that is to say thank you! Thank you to everyone who was involved in making this wonderful film, and thank you for giving me a reason to come to London to see it and meet friends on the way, and make new friends, and get drenched in the rain, and get freckles in the sunshine, and get all teary eyed when I think about the film...even now, two weeks later. It's been a brilliant ride and I am so glad that I got to have this experience.

 

Thank you.

 

Maria 

This is a short video of the big day, featuring house boats and a black cat.

My review

So here is the link to my review:

My Thoughts on Third Star

The Big Day

 

So I started early and met with a friend for breakfast before heading to Brentford, which was a nice start into the day. 

 

The weather was spectacularly cloudy, and later rainy. But it only set the mood, so all was well.

 

I am always incredibly surprised by how absolutely easy it is to navigate the London transport system. Any questions I might have had were answered by signs or announcements before I could formulate them. I mean, the tube is colour coordinated...I shouldn't have been surprised that the trains were equally easy to find and that it was literally impossible to get on the wrong train. While I was on the train it started to rain and it didn't stop for the next few hours. 

From the train station I simply had to walk west, and after about a mile I saw Watermans, the theatre where Third Star would be shown.

 

For a while I walked around and admired the amazing house boats which were sitting on the almost empty riverbank. Low tide.

  

This boat...or what remains of it, lies accross from Watermans and you can see it through the large windows which face the river. Somehow it reminded me of Heart of Darkness.

  

When it started to rain harder (and I had arrived very early, because I wanted to make sure that I wouldn't miss the film) I went to McDonalds, which was the only open place I could find, and had tea and started sorting through my pictures on my laptop.

 

Eventually I went back to Watermans and picked up my ticket. I think I was the only person under 30 who was there. Surprisingly enough, the next youngest person must have been in her 50s, and lots of people were much older than that.

Since it was the first showing of the run, the usher also went to see the film after having made sure that everyone was sitting down and comfortable. I think he was really excited that he had the chance to see it as well.  

  

 

Well, a review of the film deserves an extra post, but all I can say here is that everyone in the theatre laughed and cried and was really very touched by the film. Afterwards, a group of old ladies spent quite a long time chatting to the usher about the film. I went to the bathroom, and while I was washing my hands, I suddenly started crying. Actually crying, with tears dropping down on my hands. I locked myself into a stall and spend a few minutes feeling rediculous, but unable to stop. That feeling stayed with me for quite a long time, and since I was alone and didn't have anyone to a) force myself to get my act together in their presence as to not seem a complete wuss and b) to distract me from thinking a lot about it, I went all teary eyed quite a few times on my way back to the city. The rain was now very welcome. I can't even say what exactly it was that touched me so much. It wasn't just one thing either. I think it had to do a lot with personal stuff that had been going on, and I had known that it would be sad, because I had known the story...but still. It seemed more real than a movie usually does. But more about that in the review.

 

 After the film, high tide had filled the river again, and the boat was now lying in the water.

And on my way back to the train station, in the midst of muddy grey and green, the colour of those blossoms seemed incredibly intense.

And the rain left big drops on the leaves of this plant.

 

And I made a new friend. It was somehow really nice to have this cat come up to me to cuddle a bit. It seemed very understanding of my sadness. 

Brentford train station...waiting for the train to take me back into London.

 

On the tube back to Pimlico, this poster was right accross from me. I have no idea why I chose to read it, but I did and, well, what can I say ... coming from a movie, being shoved into reality. I had quite a hard time holding back the tears when I read this. I wonder what the people next to me would have thought.

Only when I was back in Belgrave Road did the sun come out for a few minutes, presenting us with a lovely coloured sky.

It was definitely an intense day, and the film was worth the journey. I had a few days left to meet with friends (some of whom had seen the film before) and, well, I clearly wasn't the only one who was so affected by it.

video of the first leg of the journey. Lepzig - London.

The Journey to London

I started in Leipzig, in the afternoon after my literature seminar. Incidentally, I had been teaching a comparison of A Study in Scarlet and A Study in Pink that morning, so my students asked if I was actually going to see a film with that Sherlock Holmes guy in it. Well, indeed.

So I packed the rest of my bags in anticipation of an amazing week in London. I caught the train to Berlin, which happened to be on time, which in itself was a small miracle. It was, in any case, a sign that the journey would go well. If the first train is on time, the rest usually is a piece of cake. That’s the German train system for you.

The journey was fairly uneventful, but I knew I had to catch another train in Berlin to get to Schönefeld, so the adrenaline was still in my system. I did catch the right train, but on the train I encountered a young man from London who was experiencing something which I always dread when I travel. He misread the departure-time on his plane ticket and was now going to Schönefeld to arrive there at 9 in the evening, while the flight had already gone at nine in the morning. I was the one to break the news to him, because he had been asking pretty much everyone on the train, but he had a strong Italian accent, so people simply did not understand him.

He was also very anxious to miss the stop to the airport, and even after I told him that we still had twenty minutes to go, he asked again at every single stop. I felt so bad for him, but somehow any anxiety that something could go wrong with my own journey (like going to the wrong airport, which might just happen in Berlin) was swept away. So I took the guy along to the airport but had to leave him there to sort things out, because I had my own plane to catch.

I love travelling by myself. It's not that I don't like company, and I do love having travel companions, but I always feel responsible for the people I travel with (and my parents constantly run off into opposite directions, so I'm always running after them, just to name one example), and when I am alone, I can just silently enjoy the journey and pretty much do what I want.

After check in, I saw the wheelchair waiting to be put on the plane. It belonged to one old lady who travelled with three other old ladies. I found that very endearing and also slightly ironic, considering the cause of my journey. Life imitates art, I guess.

I love airports. They are a place of in between-ness. A non-place. Not quite on the ground but not in the air yet. International and at the same time belonging to no nation at all. There are international newspapers and horrendously expensive water bottles for purchase. People wait. Some are anxious, because they have never been on a plane before. Some are anxious because they have been on a plane before and didn't have such a good time. Some are just plain bored and others, like me, excited, because they love flying, or because they can't wait to get to the place that they fly to.

One the way to the gate they had these rather funny caricatures of politicians (and the pope). I can't get over how cute Angela Merkel looks in this one. I was giggling to myself all the way down to the gate.
 

I love flying with people who have never flown before. Some are scared, but most of them are in awe. I adore the feeling right after the start; being pressed back into the seat, seeing the world slowly fall down underneath, the horizon getting lighter again, and sometimes to even see the sunset twice, once before the start, and once up in the air.

When we crossed the Channel, the moon reflected on the water while the horizon was still lightly red. It was absolutely beautiful. Having booked with Ryanair, it was only to be expected to be greeted with the Scottish voice announcing that this was yet another flight on time. I can't help but laugh every single time I hear it. I adore the accent of that voice. 

What I didn’t expect, were the masses of people at Standsted. Usually, there are a few people in the queues, but this time it seemed as if an entire country was trying to travel to England. I stood in line for almost as long as the flight had been. Just after midnight, I caught the bus to London. It’s another thing which I absolutely adore when I come to London. Entering the city and then driving along the Thames, catching a glimpse of the Globe and then passing the National Theatre and on the way up to Westminster Square, being told by the clock on the bell tower that it is rather late, but you just know that it’s only a few minutes until Victoria. (That part is on the video in the video post)

As soon as we had arrived, the next challenge awaited me: How to avoid the guys who are trying to force their taxi on you. Because you "obviously don’t know your way to your hotel. You will get lost. London at night is dangerous. It really is, knife crime, you know?!" (Yes, we're talking about Pimlico here, centre of crime in London...)

I successfully circumnavigated the modern horror story tellers and made my way down Belgrave Road, to the hostel which has been my London residence a few times during the last few years when I went to London to do research at the British Library. Stumbling into a room full of sleeping people at three in the morning is always a challenge. I felt really bad for coming in so late, but that’s just the way it is. I woke up pretty much knackered and dragged myself down to breakfast.

Apparently it started raining in London just on the day when I got there, and it pretty much wouldn't stop for the entire week. Oh well, I thought, at least I'm living the stereotype.

I love walking through London. There are always new places to discover, new streets to walk down, and always, always new faces to see. Since I was alone and know my way around Pimlico by now, I was asked for directions by three different people on the way to Victoria Station. I love being able to help. It's weirdly satisfying to be thought of as a Londoner. Maybe one day...

But I wasn't by myself all the time. I have quite a few friends living in London, some friends from University to moved there to work, others I've know from online forums, and friends of friends who turned into proper friends. I love being able to just meet up for lunch somewhere, or for drinks. I had promised a friend to get her one of the Breakfast Club mugs...not because of the place itself, but because of a rather funny revelation which Vaughan Sivell tweeted, namely that the I <3 BC could stand for someone rather than something ;)

I also managed to meet up with friends to go to the screeing of The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes, which included a Q&A with Mark Gatiss (and special guest Steven Moffat), which was lovely, especially since I got to chat to Steven Moffat for a bit. On the way back (it all happened somewhere in the north of London) we got lost rather spectacularly, trying to find the right bus. But getting lost is just another way to get to know a place, no? :)

The next few days were spent at the National Theatre, walking random streets in London, the National Portrait Gallery, The British Library (awesome science fiction exhibition there!), hiding from the rain in pubs and getting excited about Friday.

I love London by night (I do realise that I write that a lot, but I do have a very deep love for London, so I'll just keep writing it). Even though it was raining most days, the moon almost always came out at night. When the city is quiet, just before midnight, and everything is closing down, only a few people left walking along the river...it's all very peaceful.

Another thing I adore: London street art. Hackney is full with it, but you can find it in the most unlikely places as well. Just east of Strand you can find Albert Einstein riding his bike on a telephone box, and this boy was fishing on the pavement right behind Blackfriars Bridge.

And then playing in the sand at low tide. I love the amazing green colour of the moss and how clean the sand looks. One would never think that this is actually at the Thames :p

And this is what I call unconscious foreshadowing!

Tbc with Friday in Brentford and the actual goal of this journey.

First Touch

It all started with a few pictures which appeared on the internet. Some beautiful set shots of a beach, of hills, a sunset. Even before I knew anything else about the film, I longed to see this, just because of the beauty of these pictures. When I started reading about the film, about the story and who was involved in this, I was fairly sure that I needed to see the film. Back then I thought that maybe it would get a wider release...giving me the chance to see it close to home, or at least in Berlin.


I had seen JJ Feild and Benedict Cumberbatch in To The Ends of The Earth, and it's always interesting to see how different actors are when they appear together in different films. But really, the landscape shots were what I came back to again and again. I started following the production blog, reading all the little tidbits I could get, and I really enjoyed getting all this background information, the production photos and commentary by the cast and crew. And then there was the story. I tried to avoid spoilers, but the reason for the journey was of course obvious, and it moved me quite a bit. I spent a lot of time thinking about dying, about not finishing things, about the luxury of planning ahead a whole lifetime, always optimistically thinking that there would still be a lifetime ahead of me. It wasn't so much depressing as sobering and putting things into perspective a bit. I mean, it's not the first piece of art that deals with this topic, but it was something which I kept coming back to.

After a while it became clear that once it was released, I wouldn't really have the best chance of seeing it on the big screen. I hoped that it might still come to a festival close to my city, but it appeared that it wouldn't.

And then there was the week after pentecost, which my department takes off as a research week. I knew that the film would be released a few weeks prior to that, but I hoped that it might still be shown in a London theatre somewhere, because for this week, I booked a plane ticket to London in the hopes to see the film. And when it came out, it seemed as if it would stay in Leicester Square for a while longer, and I kept refreshing the internet site, hoping that it would still be on when I was actually coming to London. And then, just in that week, the film stopped being shown at Leicester Square, to be picked up again a few days after I would have to go home again.

What to do?

Facebook! :) I asked (and whoever is responsible for the Third Star Facebook group: THANK YOU!) if there was any chance of seeing it in London in the week I was there and they suggested Watermans in Brentford. Relieved to not have booked the plane ticket just to miss the purpose of my journey, I booked a ticket to the showing there and started to plan my trip to London. 

The Route

Leipzig – Berlin 191 km

Berlin  – Berlin Schönefeld 216 km

Berlin Schönefeld – Stansted 1.354 km

Stansted – Belgrave Road, London 1.420 km

Belgrave Road, London – Brentford 1.433 km

 THIRD STAR

Brentford - Belgrave Road, London 1.442 km 

Belgrave Road, London - Stansted 1.482 km

Stansted - Berlin Schönefeld 2188 km

Berlin Schönefeld - Halle/Saale 2364 km