Oude Kerk stands impassive and severe, a hulking spiritual presence unperturbed by the Red Light District activities going on in its vicinity.

I have often walked past Oude Kerk but never gone in before. This is my first visit, and this great old church turns out to be well worth a visit.

When I enter, I’m struck first by the warm golden tone of the wonderful vaulted wooden ceiling. The paintings on it are faded but still visible.

The other most eye-catching feature is the huge baroque organ away to the left as you come in. This organ, built in 1724-26, is considered to be the finest of its kind in the Netherlands.

After admiring it for a few moments, I wander along to the other end of this impressively vast church. There I come across some highly entertaining wooden carvings in the choir stall misericords.

These choir stall carvings are strange and funny: a small sparrow-like bird with outstretched wings and a surreally incongruous human head, the head of a distinguished-looking gentleman; an owl’s body with the head of a disgruntled semi-human creature; a wonderfully carved man in hat and coat, walking away from a half-opened door, the sense of perspective giving this carving a dynamic liveliness; and a bizarre face with two noses, three eyes, and a huge mouth.

These carvings are quite entrancing and I linger over them for a few minutes before ambling round the rest of the church, taking in some beautiful stained glass windows and enjoying the aura of calm reflection.

My spiritual reverie is abruptly broken when three Scottish tourists walk past me at the edge of the choir stall. One of them says to the others,

“We had a big lunch so just some toast and cheese will do me.”

Overhearing this mundane snippet brings me back down to earth with a bump.

I head out the church and back to the earthly delights of central Amsterdam.

Café Schiller on Rembrandtplein is my next port of call.

The exterior of Café Schiller is unfortunately overwhelmed by the garishness of the coffee shop next door.

But inside, Café Schiller is a beautifully preserved art deco delight with clean uncluttered lines and elegant original fittings.

I go up to the bar and order a Natte draft beer, a delicious ‘dubbel’ from Amsterdam’s Brouwerij ‘t IJ.

I sit savouring this great beer at a table near the entrance, glancing across to the far wall where there stands a wonderful exotic statue with four flower-like lampshades throwing soft illumination over the seating and table below it.

After finishing my beer, I leave the atmospheric art deco environment of Café Schiller and cross back over to the other side of Rembrandtplein. Here I buy a medium-sized bag of fries from a snack bar and wolf them down as I walk along quiet untouristed Nieuwe Herengracht.

Directly underneath the Nieuwe Herengracht street sign, someone has stuck a ‘Republiek Amsterdam’ sticker.

It’s a manifestation of the civic pride that Amsterdammers have in their city being a state unto itself; a city more radical and cosmopolitan than its politically dull, conservative hinterland.

Next stop is Café Scharrebier on Rapenburgerplein.

Scharrebier is an Amsterdamse bruin café, a traditional, down-to-earth Amsterdam bar.

I sit outside at one of the streetside tables. Several locals are already sitting out here, enjoying the late afternoon sun on this early October day.

Westmalle Tripel is my tipple here, a reliably strong and tasty Trappist beer.

Off to the right, about a hundred yards away, Likeurstokerij De Druif looks well worth a visit some other time. It’s a handsome three-storey red-brick building with a very enticing bar interior.

From my bag I pull out a copy of Iain Banks’ book Raw Spirit, a wonderful account of his travels around the whisky distilleries of Scotland.

Raw Spirit is a great title, reflecting not only the book’s subject matter but also the author as a person.

I sit reading a few pages as the early evening sun begins to sink lower in the Amsterdam sky. The book’s celebration of whisky gives me the urge to make a beeline to Schiphol to jump on the first plane that will take me to a Scottish airport from where I could make my way to Islay, an island blessed with several outstanding distilleries.

On the back cover of the book there is a photo of Iain Banks standing on some seaweed-covered rocks by the sea shore. He is happily clutching a glass of single malt whisky. The background sky is a perfect blue.

The photo captures his aura of wry amusement, whilst also hinting at the hidden depths that give his novels their enduring appeal.

I still find it hard to believe that Iain Banks died earlier this year, from an untreatable illness. I am thankful that I managed to attend two of his readings in the past few years.

One was in Stirling, the other in Edinburgh. In person at those readings he was very funny, exuding a mischievous schoolboy glee as he delivered incisive observations on literature, politics, and Scotland. His passing has left a huge void in the literary world, in Scotland and beyond.

The sun has now sunk behind the Rapenburgerplein buildings.

The temperature has dropped sharply.

It’s too chilly to continue sitting outside so I pay the bill, pack the Raw Spirit book away in my bag and stroll over to nearby 16cc on Kadijksplein for the showing of tonight’s film, Greetings from Tim Buckley.

16cc is a terrific café in which the man behind it, entrepreneur Pim Hermeling, combines his passion for contemporary art, arthouse film, and fine wine.

I go in about twenty minutes before ‘Greetings from Tim Buckley’ is due to start and order a beer at the bar.

I drink it perched on a stool by the one of the walls and admire the interesting artwork.

There is a good atmosphere in here.

Ceiling beams and wood panel walls, sympathetic low lighting, and candles on tables.

I take my unfinished glass of beer with me into the screening room, which is accessed down a set of stairs near the bar.

What a cosy intimate screening room this is.

There are just three rows of seats.

As I seem to be the only person here to see the film tonight, I choose one of the centre seats in the middle row.

Usually it feels a bit creepy being the only person in an auditorium, but here it’s not so bad because the space has got such a homely feel.

The friendly barmaid from upstairs comes down to start the film. I say to her,

“It feels a bit weird being the only person here.”

“You’re lucky – you’ve got a private screening!”, she replies with a laugh. “Do you like the music of Tim Buckley?”

“Yes”, I reply.

“Enjoy the film”, she says as she retreats and shuts the door behind her, leaving me in splendid solitude to enjoy what turns out to be a superb film.

‘Greetings from Tim Buckley’ is brilliant from start to finish. Director Daniel Algrant has turned out a gem here.

The film makers clearly have a real love for music and musicians.

The film is not simply a homage to Tim and Jeff Buckley, it’s also a celebration of songwriting, live performances, and the people behind the scenes without whose efforts there would be no live music for audiences to enjoy.

The cinematography by Andrij Parekh is extremely accomplished and contributes hugely to the success of the film.

Every scene is beautifully lit and composed, across a range of different settings: the church where the concert takes place, Tim (Ben Rosenfield) and his lover in the desert, Jeff (Penn Badgley) and Allie (Imogen Poots) travelling by train to the town where his father used to live and wandering around there, having a drink in a local bar.

The acting is great, particularly by the two leads, Penn Badgley and Imogen Poots.

Badgley is perfect as the talented singer-songwriter reluctantly dragooned into the tribute concert to the father he never really knew.

Imogen Poots is excellent too as Allie, one of the concert organizers, finely blending equal measures of wariness and affection towards the unpredictable and temperamental Jeff.

The romance between Jeff and Allie is beautifully handled in a way that is subtle, moving, and understated.

Usually I try to make my notes on a film as soon as possible after seeing it.

But ‘Greetings from Tim Buckley’ is so enchanting that after the film ends I just bask in its warm glow and savour the good feelings that it has created, and I put off scribbling my notes till a couple of days later.

Related Post: ‘Joan Baez: I Am a Noise’, Cinéma Aventure, Brussels

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