Zoo Victor Chklovski

Le zoo est sur le point de fermer ses portes. Joan et son fils de quatre ans, Lincoln, profitent des dernières minutes dans leur coin préféré, à l'écart des visiteurs. Mais quand Joan se décide à pousser gentiment Lincoln vers la sortie, ce qu'elle découvre la force à rebrousser chemin en courant, et à s'enfoncer dans le zoo désormais désert, son fils dans les bras. Dans un parc d'attraction transformé en ménagerie mortelle, pendant les trois plus longues heures de sa vie, Joan va découvrir jusqu'où elle est prête à aller pour sauver Lincoln…

To discover an island space is always to discover Oneself. The journey is equally sensory, a slow perception of the deep nature of the Elements, as a journey into one's own interiority, our buried self. And this is all the more true when chance put you there, at the mercy of the Winds, or when it's this particular opportunity, like Robinson, of finding one's own means of sustenance, the necessary rebound to any attempt at survival.
First of all, it's the moment to summon the Spirit of Solidarity, the very one that will fertilize the relationship between Human and Earth, that will encourage the discoverers in their respectful appropriation of the Ecosystems, that will allow Cyrus, Spilett, Nab, Pencroff and Harbert, the shipwrecked from the Sky, to remain "upright", to enjoy a land that becomes their nourishing island, to finally discover the identity of a host as Mysterious as it's protective…

It had to be a train. The name of Victor Wainwright's new band - and the sleeve image of their debut album - is also the most fitting of metaphors. In music folklore, the train might have associations with the freight-hopping bluesmen of yore, but with this restless boogie-woogie innovator stoking the furnace, this project is a charging locomotive - surging forward, crashing through boundaries of genre, sweeping up fresh sounds and clattering headlong past the doubters. At a sweet-spot in his career, where most established stars would rest on their laurels, Victor Wainwright & The Train instead rips up all that has gone before. These twelve tracks are originals in every sense, written by Wainwright, pricking up ears in a sterile music industry and stretching the concept of roots in bold directions. The result is an album that walks a tightrope between scholarly respect and anarchic irreverence. On this white-knuckle ride, only The Train could keep the material on the tracks. "I ended up with a hit-squad of downright amazing musicians," he reflects, "that shared my curiosity for all corners of the roots genre. We wanted to capture how we feel performing, right smack-dab on this record, and I believe we've done that. Now I just try to keep up…"

This is a world première production on DVD. Torvaldo merits greater attention than has been previously paid to it; the rich orchestration, preludes of infallible expression and recitative passage of extraordinary clarity deem this an opera of considerable interest.

Anyone who knows anything about Victor Wooten knows that he's one of those rare souls: he gains a rep for playing the bass. Soul Circus, however, isn't just an extravaganza for bass players. Wooten, as it turns out, is also a heck of a writer and, as the listener will learn on the first track, a fine singer. The unusual first track, "Victa," is a funky, soulful hymn in praise of – who else – Wooten himself, while "Bass Tribute" offers accolades to those who've come before him.