Useful Consumer Review

I’ve had the vast majority of the lights in my apt. controlled remotely (from Emacs, of course) for like a decade. It’s a flexible system built on Telldus Telstick receivers and transmitters, and Nexa wall sockets.

But… Look at the un-pretty:

Yes, those outlets are fugly. Fortunately quite a few of them are hidden behind furniture, but I’ve been on the lookout for prettier solutions. Remote-controlled light bulbs are nice, but most of them use proprietary control systems that seem fiddly and not easy to integrate into my setup. Ikea have released bulbs that show some promise, but the form factors are still very limited, so I’ve been biding my time for years waiting for somebody to make something… better.

Look!

Telldus apparently started making these outlets a couple of years ago. They use the same 433MHz signalling system as the Nexa outlets (and the Telldus transmitters), and they look so much prettier. Of course, Telldus seems to be phasing them out already because they want to sell a completely new product line based on ZWave, so these were on half price sale and I snapped up a stack of them.

Sometimes it pays to be oblivious.

So last night I sat down to start changing the outlets, and the first thing to do is to program them. (I give each outlet an individual code, a room code, and an apt. code, so that I can switch the entire room/apt on/off with one signal.)

But they behaved very strangely. One of the outlets I could give code 40, but not 202. But I could give it code 56. Hm. 7 bit problems? No, I could give it code 153… WTF?

So I started dumping the output from the included remote controls:

And it dawned on me that the second-to-last hex digit was always 9 on the included remote controls, but not in the codes I transmitted.

What I had was

(when (> unit 16) 
  (setq house (+ house (/ unit 16)) 
        unit (mod unit 16)))

That is, I did modulo 16 on the unit code (because that’s a 4 bit value) and then went to the next house code. And that worked fine for the Nexa outlets, but with these Telldus outlets, not all house codes are valid. I didn’t investigate in depth what patterns were allowed, but every 16 was definitely allowed, so I changed the above code to:

(setq house (+ house (* (/ unit 16) 16)) 
      unit (mod unit 16)))

So I skip to the next sixteenth house code instead of the next one.

And then it works! Of course, that means that I had to reprogram all of the outlets, even the old Nexa ones that I didn’t swap out. Oh, the tangled twisty turns of life.

Look teh pretties:

They seem to have pretty good reception, too. That is, at least not any worse than the Nexa outlets. But as you can see, they’re not perfect: They’re juuust a smidgen too wide to fit two side-by-side into a standard outlet, and they may even be problematic with a fat non-remote neighbour.

*sigh*

But prettier!  And more convenient.  These Telldus outlets have a manual on/off button, so you can get the lamps to switch on/off even if the control system is down, for some reason or other.

Now I just have to decide what to do with the old outlets… Probably not much use for them, but perhaps I should hold on to them to see whether the Telldus outlets continue for function well.

BTLVIII 1975: Silence! Action! The Magic Flute!

Silence! Action! The Magic Flute! (Tystnad! Tagning! Trollflöjten!). Katinka Faragó, Måns Reuterswärd. 1975. ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐★.

This “making of” film of The Magic Flute is really interesting. It’s mostly fly-on-the-wall, and it’s really well edited and funny.

“The Magic Flute isn’t just a risible fairy tale… But as a music play, it’s fairy tale/poem/dream.”

This is one of the best “making of” documentaries I’ve seen. You can find it here, but you need to use a VPN to pretend you’re in Sweden to watch it, and it’s not subtitled, so you need to understand Swedish to, er, understand it.

This post is part of the 87 Bergman Things series.

BTLVII 1975: The Magic Flute

The Magic Flute (Trollflöjten). Ingmar Bergman. 1975. ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐★.

This was the most expensive TV production ever made in Sweden at the time, so there were the usual mutterings of “scandal”, but they sold the finished TV show to so many countries that it ended up earning the Swedish TV company a lot of money.

This is Mozart, of course, so the music sucks and the story is pure distilled twaddle, but it’s pretty amusing. I mean, it’s meant to be funny (I think?), and this staging hams it up.

Bergman has chosen some very young and pretty performers, and they seem to be miming here? So they recorded the music first and then edited together the acting from a bunch of different shots? I’m just guessing… But the next Bergman Thing is a documentary about this Thing, so all will be revealed.

I’m no Opera connoisseur, but I think the voices are mostly not very impressive. I like Pamina’s voice… really beautiful.

Bergman goes all out in trying to make a pleasant, amusing and commercially acceptable version of the opera for TV. I think it looks like he had a lot of fun, and the results are very likeable. Corny? Yes.

I read P. Craig Russell’s version the other week, which probably made me more susceptible to the doubtful charms of the piece.

This post is part of the 87 Bergman Things series.

BTLVI 1974: The Misanthrope

The Misanthrope (Misantropen). Ingmar Bergman. 1974. ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐★.

This is a TV recording of a Danish theatre production of Moliere’s The Misanthrope directed by Bergman. It’s quite fun, and Ghita Nørby as Célimène is a blast to watch. I don’t think anyone would quite have guessed that it was a Bergman production if they hadn’t known, though.

Great fun.

This post is part of the 87 Bergman Things series.

BTLV 1973: Scenes from a Marriage

Scenes from a Marriage (Scener ur ett äktenskap). Ingmar Bergman. 1973. ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐★.

I’ve seen the TV series before, so I thought it might be fun to see the cinema version, too. I vaguely remember the TV series as being a very involving soap opera. The cinema version is apparently just an edited-down version (they lopped off about two hours?).

To begin with, Nykvist refused: ‘We’d shot the series in the 16 mm format 1: 1.33. Now it was to be blown up to 1: 1.66. I looked at some samples. The cropping was extremely ugly, and the images were grainy. I called Ingmar and told him that we couldn’t agree to this.’ Nykvist cited the fact that the subtitles would obscure the actors’ mouths, and that his contract stipulated that it would only be screened in 16 mm.

Bergman, always more pragmatic than his reputation might suggest, replied: ‘Have you forgotten that you’re a co-producer? We’re not talking small change here. You’ve got ten per cent of the rights.’

Heh heh. Yes, Bergman and his crew self-financed the film, and it became a worldwide phenomenon, raking in the dosh. I haven’t seen anybody say it directly, but I would guess that this was the immediate cause for the Swedish tax authority’s vendetta against Bergman: That he suddenly had a lot of money stashed in foreign bank accounts, which must have seemed odd.

Anyway, this cut-down theatrical version is quite thrilling. I wouldn’t necessarily recommend it over the TV series, but it’s just so… intense. It makes it seem more like a very long Ibsen play than a soap opera.

It does make me want to watch the TV series, though, because I have no idea what were in those two hours they edited out.

It also seem very effortless; untortured. Like the scenes just happen naturally without any embellishment between these brilliant actors. And apparently they were very disciplined: While on a normal Bergman shoot, you get three minutes of film per shooting day, on this one they did up to twenty minutes per day.

This post is part of the 87 Bergman Things series.