Immediate Venture Bitcore Surge



I thought I had been doing my belly dancer of the month for almost a year and I was going to pick my anniversary one. But going through past posts, I realise it has been well over a year now. Too bad. It will have to wait until the two-year mark. Anyhow, here is my choice to brighten up your October: the lovely Na’ima ‘Akef, who looks like Barbara Stanwyck. No bad thing for Hollywood on the Nile which is what Egyptian cinema was at the time. The films were often an Arab version of Hollywood ones, complete with musical numbers, high melodrama or whatever. Occasionally, it was a two-way thing as you can see from this silly trailer for Beau Geste where belly dancers are wriggling their hips on Sunset Boulevard — love the cars! But the Hollywood dancers don’t hold a candle to the gorgeous Na’ima who moves so much better and who avoids being vulgar despite her provocative closeness to the musicians. She also avoids the silly expression of so many other dancers and her smile seems genuine. My only reservation is her belly which sticks out a little too much. I have been accused on twitter recently of being fat phobic. Perhaps I am. I would have preferred her to be a few kilos lighter. Not too many though. She needs some flesh on her to enhance those mesmerizing hip shakes!



Here we go again, another month and another belly dancer. This time I am taking you to Iran, before the Islamic revolution when Iranians were able to enjoy life without restrictions and when they made fun films and not films where nothing happens for two hours. Of course, I am exaggerating and not being entirely serious but I nearly died of boredom watching Kiarostami‘s A Taste of Cherry. And I like bleak films and remember spending 7 hours (in two sittings!) engrossed in a Roumanian film (I think) set in a rainy village with the saddest characters ever. Sadly, I can’t remember the name. Anyhow, this month’s dancer is not as good as my previous ones but I love the absurdity of the scene, and I love how she lets her breasts have a life of their own. I also love the arrival of the children to an entertainment that is not quite suitable, at least not when she is jiggling her attributes!

Ps. Just had a comment from a lovely Norwegian blogger telling me the title of my never ending Eastern European film, Sátántangó. It is Hungarian and not Roumanian and it may go on forever but it is brilliant; and the opening scene, with the papers blowing in the wind, is beautiful.