Husky Galore

Last night I went to the Institut Français to see Village at the End of the World, a year in the life of a remote community in Greenland, struggling to survive as the children leave for brighter lights and the fish factory closes. Inuit is spoken throughout, with English subtitles; I was very proud of recognising the word nanuk in the bit about polar bear hunting.

Notable among the village characters is Lars, a 16-year-old brought up by his grandparents. He bemoans the lack of local girls, chats with Facebook friends all over the world, and, when he's feeling down, turns plastic toy animals into tupilak figures.

I went partly because the trailer promised 59 villagers and 96 sled dogs. I was not disappointed. As well as an all too brief section on sledding, there are dogs in pretty much every outdoor shot, scrounging, howling, or just loafing about.

It's a fascinating documentary, and you're not sure whether the villagers' way of life is to be pitied or envied. Well worth catching if you don't mind the odd narwhal foetus.

I woke up this morning to the news that Ray Manzarek had died, which is a rotten way to start a Tuesday. After Jim Morrison's vocals, Manzarek's keyboard playing was probably the most distinctive feature of the Doors' music; 'Light My Fire', to name but one, wouldn't be the same without his contribution. I have been listening to 'The End' and finding its nonsensical lyrics suddenly poignant. The blue bus is calling you, Ray! The West is the best!

I only found out at the weekend that Richie Havens also died recently. I was lucky enough to see him a few years back, and it turned out to be one of my favourite gig experiences. I'm extra glad, now, that I insisted he kiss me.