Welcome, Foolish Mortals!

...on the other hand, I thought The Haunted Mansion was AMAZING.

Which just goes to show how far expectations and the reasons why you see a film influence your feelings.

Full disclaimer - oh boy, do I love that ride! I dream about it. All the time. Last month, I almost signed up to go work at Disney just to be closer. Instead, I chose to buy this film - this awful, awful film - to sate the addiction for just a little longer.

It cost me 0.01p. One careful previous owner (who hadn't thrown it across the room in disgust)

So. The script is very disappointing - much in need of some proper jokes. The two funny house-servants weren't funny. The kids were totally undercharacterised. But apart from that, it wasn't so bad.

I guess its failure comes from the ride itself. The concept behind the Pirates of the Carribbean is "THERE ARE PIRATES!". Within that framework, Elliot and Rossio wove a wide (and witty) story, taking the odd stopoff for Tortuga or a dog with a key, but mostly using the ride simply for tone. I don't know it so well, but I warrant there weren't nearly as many references. Jack, Elizabeth and the Other One are characters invented; so is Barbossa, the monkey, and the haunted gold. They've taken the concept of "piraty things" and expanded it into a story.

Mansion movie is too much like the ride - the house remains the main character, and the film merely serves to give you the guided tour. No wonder Murphy plays a real estate agent. Like Pirates, it has no clear canon or tale - simply a jumble of creepies. Unlike Pirates, though, fanboys have assembled it into stories - it is the fanboys, for example, who took the name Master Gracey off a headstone, made him the portrait in the foyer, and then the master of the house. And unlike Pirates, the writers have taken those stories and tried to make them into plot.

I'm kinda surprised the Mansion-fans hated it. Oh look, the brides chamber! The coffin conservatory! The breathing doors! The Doombuggy approach makes it a very bad film indeed, as the characters shuffle through to show off the next archetectural wonder. But if you're watching cus you can't afford a Magic Kingdom season pass? Next best thing. It's even better if you play it with other Mansion nerds (if you can get them out of their basements) and keep score of trivia. Did you know that the red couch was originally in Disney's 54' 20000 Leagues Under the Sea?

In fact, imdb has a whole list:

• the singing busts
• the breathing door (even the doorknob is the same) (wow! fancy that!)
  
• Madame Leota (and the spectral instruments)
• the busts that follow Jim
• the ghostly carriage (a prop outside the ride)
• the old man and the dog in the cemetery
• Master Gracy's hanging (oh, but I thought that was the narrator and not Gracey! Oh woes!)
  
• the ghostly ballroom dancers
• the Raven seen throughout the movie (which - bonus points! - was part of the original concept for the Mansion...)
  
• the hitchhiking ghosts
• the hangman
• the eyes in some of the walls
• morphing pictures in the hallway
• several lines throughout the movie that are also used in the ride's narration, such as: "Welcome, foolish mortals", "Final arrangements have been made", "There's always my way"
• the floating candelabra in the credits
• the bride's dress in the attic
• the screeching cat sound effect in graveyard scene (Whoah, I just lost nerd points! I didn't notice this at all! Also, what bloody screeching cat? Who rides the Mansion so seriously that they can identify a screeching cat? I never heard it!)
  
• the skeleton's hands that start to open coffin in the mausoleum
• the knights in the hallway attacking Jim
• the door knockers heard rapping in the bedroom hallway
• the pipe-organ in the ballroom
• the clock strikes 13 during the prologue

They forgot to mention the help's costume design. And so on...

What it might hold for someone unable to squeal "oooh, the original Mark Davis concept art!", I don't know. 'Cus honestly, the hitchhiking ghosts aren't very funny if you don't go "the hitchiking ghosts!" Madame Leota is simultaneously under-exposed herself and over-provides exposition for others in what looks like a big narrative misstep - if you're not going "Madame Leota!" And WTF are there dancing instruments in her room?

On the other hand, if you're a Mansion fan there are only three serious complaints to make:

• no stretching gallery?
• no decent image of the iconic eye wallpaper?
  
• not coherent with my personal mythology!

and if you really want to earn a slap from your fellow mortals (of the non-foolish variety):

• no Hatbox Ghost!

There's more than enough eye-candy to keep ones critical faculties dimmed, and I passed a gleeful hour and a half watching it.

What did I want? That atmosphere. That moment when you step from Florida heat into a chill-cold parlour, and the sticky children and Mickey-tat are entirely left behind. Time spent absorbing the atmosphere. Watching out for new gags, new surprises. This? The film delivers in spades. I wanted my ride. I got it.

And if you're not a fan but you do like pretty, then oh! Costumes! Sets! Particularly sets! Some poor makeup though. And there is a good story in there, somewhere, even if you do need to work hard to find it. I'm a sucker for the central romance - I thought Mrs Evers one of the better characters. Loved Gracey and Ramsley. Why couldn't we have had more of those three, instead of kidnapping one for ages and mostly ignoring the other too. Although I'll be buried if that ending made any sense...are we meant to believe that, during eternity, Gracey never came across the letter? I know the building is big but still! True, he's depressed. Still! There are nine hundred and ninety seven other grim, grinning ghouls in there which might concieveably have ended up there too. Here's a better idea. Cus Ramsely is a poorass murderer if he's going to keep evidence in the victim's own house. Frankly he deserves to get caught.

I wonder whether Evers put "Deus Ex Fireplace" on the property listing?

Did love Ramsley, though, creepy old Terence Stamp! Fantastic character - the traditional Brit butler is a little dead, if only on the inside. And Master Gracey too, all emotion and Englishness and looking damn fine in a suit. "Was my crime to fall in love?" Aaaaaaaw.

Oh, I would have rewritten it in so many ways! What if Sara decided she loved Gracey, or had remembered being Elizabeth? That would have been good. I had so much more invested in that romance than the other. I wanted more of why the Graceys were in America. More of the interrelations between the ghosts - they've all been trapped their since the 18somethings, just because the Master couldn't get his act together. What intrigues and politics that would produce! More ghosts in general: the house seemed so empty in those huge rooms, and not in an "isolated!" way. In an "we could only afford eight actors" way. 999 ghosts, remember? That's lots.

And Eddie Murphey was - not-terrible. Had expected the worst. In fact, he just did the best with the material and, given that we've seen the Workaholic Father a billion times before, produced a rounded and solid performance. Not special, but I put that down to the script. No one had anything to work with.

But what I really want to know is....was Elizabeth's music box, with the mirror and spinning maquettes, a tribute to the Pepper's Ghost ballroom? I'll get my coat. Oh Lord, I want to watch it again. Bring on the del Toro reboot, and quick!

Do The Right Thing

Cinecism is having one of those wonderful mornings when you're having a good sort out, and you suddenly finda copy of Do the Right Thing that you'd entirely forgotten purchasing. For a mere £3 at that!

'Twas curious. Clearly a debut, I loved the rule-breaking style - the totally unexpected dance-credit sequence, the colours, the close-up racist tirades. But I obviously missed something - perhaps I'm just 22 years too late. I felt like it used to be ground-breaking

It felt like a movie with a message, but it's not entirely clear what that message was. The ambivalence was underlined by first the photos, then the quotes of Martin Luther King and Malcom X. Two figures I do not know in detail, but I know that broadly MLK represented peaceful resistance, and MX advocated violence.

We're not meant to sympathise with John Tuturro or the cops, I guess. But what are we to make of Mookie? He's our touchstone character, and one that seemingly gets on with everyone in the neighbourhood, and yet I didn't see the character progression which lead to chucking bins through windows? I guess ground down by Pino's racism, perhaps? But still. What's the motivation? Being a big ole pacifist I loved the Mayor, and grew to love Sal. But why did the riot happen? Just the heat? After an hour of Sal saying how much he loved his neighbourhood, and Buggin' Out failing to garner support for a boycott, where did all those other people come from? Were we just meant to think "it's very hot + this resentment was there underneath"?

At the same time, I feel there were some characters who had a good point to make about race relations, but they were painted as idiots. Buggin' Out has a perspective worth exploring - while it's petty in part to protest about someone else's hall of fame, and his mode of dealing with it unproductive; nevertheless, the lack* of a black-owned, black-run space was also acknowledged within the film (by the three men sitting by the road among others), and I agree that there is something unecessarily antagonistic about a single-race hall of fame in a multi-racial neighbourhood. It's counterbalanced by Love Radio's "WE LOVE ROLL CALL" of great black musicians. One of the smartest scenes in the film depicts Pino struggling with the blackness of his heroes - they're not really black, he argues weakly. When Buggin' Out declares "man, fuck gentrification" - it's a hostile scene, which shows him in a poor light, but that's not to say there are genuine problems with gentrification.

Even before Radio Raheem's martyrdom, I felt he was a sympathetic character. At the same time, while I've a suspicion the radio was meant to represent black agency or something, and that Fight the Power was an expression of his hidden inner soul, in practice? Playing loud music in public is just rude and objectionable.

Are we meant to be confused? Is that the message? "Race - oh darn, what a mess!" Are there just no easy answers?

I wouldn't normally look so closely at the morals of a movie if I'd been enjoying it too. I enjoyed it in parts, and as is always the risk with a portmanteau, some stories interested more than others. Mayor's heroism warmed my little hippy soul, and his winter-non-romance with Mother Sister was dead cute. I couldn't believe that Sal's diner actually functioned as a real shop - I wouldn't eat at a place constantly underscored by shouty point-scoring and squabbling from the crew.

The chief problem for me is the - what we'll call T-patter - gets old quickly. This is unjust in the extreme - for one thing, Spike Lee precedes and obviously inspires Tarantino; for another, academics have convincingly argued that Tarantino's white characters hide "black bodies", or however that article puts it. But I can't help how I feel - this script doesn't have QT's wit or charm, and I kept tuning out of the irritatingly circular dialogue. Perhaps my strong association of it with Tarantino triggers in me the expectation of something throwaway and fun, and I found its juxtaposition with a serious drama too disorienting. Pino reminds me of Nice Guy Eddy - but without the humour, he merely retains the irritance factor. And this very early scene was almost a film-breaker for me:

Sal: Pino, get a broom and sweep out front.
Pino: Vito, get a broom and sweep out front.
Vito: Huh?
Pino: Get a broom and sweep out front.
Vito: What?
Pino: GET A BROOM AND SWEEP OUT FRONT.
Vito: See, Pop, it's just what I was telling ya, every time you tell Pino what to do, he tells me to do what you told him what to do.

It was this or Singing in the Rain...

Did like much of the music. At times, I felt the orchestral score was a bit slapped on, but the jazzier pieces (deriving from the song Summertime?) and pop tunes were great.

Two other thoughts:

• I have been musing recently about "becoming black" or "becoming white". Pino sees himself as white, or whit-er than those around him but admires black culture; the Koreans defend their store by claiming they are black. In the past, "black" was used as this catchall category which included both the Jews and the Irish. An example from the 1850s -the Irish were often referred to as "Negroes turned inside out" and Negroes as "smoked Irish." Over time, these groups have "become" white. I still can't decide whether this is a step forward - at least we're more inclusive now! - or a step back - judging on appearance is very childish. It's probably just a step...
  
• I expected death! In fact, this film is notable for having no guns, no knives, and only one murder.
• Does Do The Right Thing qualify as a hood movie? If it does, it must be a very early one. I wrote a study of them two years back, investigating the trend from social debate ("Oh no! Look at the problems!") to entertainment ("Gonna shoot some people up!"), characterised by Boyz in the Hood (which I loved), Menace II Society (which I didn't see, but condemned all the same) and City of God, which struck me as the most offensive and objectionable film I'd ever seen. I chose to write the essay in part because I wanted to discuss depictions of violence, and partly because I was just so ANGRY about it.
• As an early, pre-Boyz movie I'd warrant this was one of the more realistic. I was reminded of Bowling for Columbine, and Michael Moore's non-scientific juxtaposition of gun ownership and white paranoia about black youths. Because don't all black americans carry guns?! Shock! The only killing that goes on here is a case of police brutality. Good choice.
  

In all? Rather nihilistic, rather confusing, rather forgetteable. Pity.

*does Love Radio count, though?
becoming white quote: http://www.pitt.edu/~hirtle/uujec/white.html
Another perspective: https://usjamerica.wordpress.com/2009/04/11/becoming-white/

Alpha Mike Foxtrot

I adore The A-Team - was quite obsessed with it for a patch last year, but was ultimately frustrated by how repetitive and unimaginative the plotting was. Evil greedy capitalists screwing over decent folk and bribing the local sherrif? Again?

So the film was a must see, and ignoring a few misgivings, I cannot remember such a few hoursof unabashed happiness. Ever. I laughed all the way through: from the daft opening, with the characters getting Tarantinian freeze frames with their names, to B.A. having "PITY" and "FOOL" tattooed on his knuckles, to Face being the guy to understand their sleazy nemesis and explaining it all with a shell game.

They made exactly the right choice on the tone - trimmed out some of the camp, made the violence feel less cartoonish, but still remained gleefully daft. The director was quoted in Empire with this fabulous soundbite:

"Look, if you don't like the idea of a tank falling out of the sky and shooting at a plane, then this movie's not going to be for you. But I think if you don't like the idea of a tank falling out of the sky, then you fundamentally have a fucking problem with cinema."

Getting that tone right was the chief thing I had been previously concerned about, and I'm still impressed that they managed to keep it all raw and realistic. And to fly a tank at the same time. The actors were all perfect (I loved Lynch!), the script was very good - it just would have been nice if they had enunciated better. I missed quite a lot of the banter because the accents just would not stick in my head. And some of the action sequences needed to be a little clearer too - I couldn't always keep track of who was shooting at what. Everything you would want was there: drugging B.A. to get him on aircraft, rigging up weapons from stuff they have lying about.

It was also a deeply problematic film. Looking back on what I've typed, I've dedicated more time to griping than squeeing: decidedly not how I feel. Damn the politics - it was awesome. Tank. Plane. But there's only so much you can say about having fun...the following section is basically deeply spoilerific, but surely this doesn't matter considering what we have under discussion.

One of the more interesting twists was that B.A. got very zen in prison, and came out refusing to kill. Now I thought this was really cool - it neatly mirrored Mr T's conversion to religion and by giving him a proper character arc, transformed him into the most interesting of the bunch. It also tallied with my headcanon: despite the ludicrous amount of firearms, I think there are only six onscreen deaths in four seasons, suggesting that they were trying to avoid killing as far as possible. Whether this is legal or moral is never explained. He quotes Gandhi, and explains multiple times that he is not comfortable killing. Hannibal - who is cooler than this - quotes some Gandhi back:

"It is better to be violent, if there is violence in our hearts, than to put on the cloak of nonviolence to cover impotence."

And tells him he needs to discover "something worth fighting for". When they later repeat this fuzzy terminology, and he says "Yes, I've found it" - it's never really defined what "it" is. "Peer pressure", as far as I can tell. Peer pressure and guilt tripping, and I was rather disappointed. Hannibal isn't really that manipulative; B.A. can still be a cool hero and not kill people - in fact, seeing how keen he is to protect kids in the original, I figure he'd be pretty disappointed.

In truth, I probably shouldn't have been looking to the A-Team for positive messages about violence. It has always been about heroic veteran vigilantes. But in my own head, I had partly reclaimed it as part of the "post-Nam counter cultural dropout thingie". In the show, we never see them as soldiers except in some misty past none of them talk about - their missions are always Robin Hood style mercy missions to ordinary folks. The show's stance on the army is therefore more ambiguous - they are obviously patriots, obviously proud of their fellow men. But the impression I had was like the Democracy Village banner: "We Support The Soliders; We Do Not Support The War". And to my mind, perhaps all the heroism was maybe a sort of atonement - their own mad manifestation of PTSD. Face in particular has never seemed like a violent man to me - someone who fights to get out of situations, and would really rather retire, but can't give up his friends or the jazz.

This is my personal slant, and it's only just occured to me how personal. We all enjoy fiction on our own terms, but I thought I was giving the story some depth. Actually I was just making it palatable. Would I be able to enjoy The A-Team TV if the characters were portrayed as pro-war, pro-that war in particular? As it stands, the army theme is window dressing - the characters are apolitical, the messages neutral. Maybe not with the same vigour, or in the same way.

The movie makes the right choice in its structure - it shows the team's first mission in a pre-title-sequence, then shows them blundering into the crime-they-did-not-commit and the film is concerned with them trying to discover who set them up. It was also correct to update the story to the modern day. But juxtaposing the nu-Team with a real war cannot be anything but a political statement, and implicit approval - one scene with Hannibal chatting enthusiastically with happy locals left a particularly sour taste. When they rescue a village under threat from greedy developers, it's an obvious case of good verses nasty. But given the information that they have completed "80 successful missions" in Iraq is...also not cool, because war isn't that clear cut but about following orders. Some were probably of a philanthropic nature, but they can't all have been unless you accept the Iraq war as a Good Thing.

The film is very certain: these are army men. They want to clear their names and be restored to their ranks. They even wait for permission to break out of jail. Probably better characterisation than the show's, but still problematic. It left me with a far stronger impression of people I would not want to spend any time with. That's why I loved B.A. more than I ever have before (I'm normally a Hannibal girl), and was deeply disappointed with the resolution of that arc. It also undermines, say, Hannibal's decision not to shoot a villain in cold blood earlier on.

Summer blockbuster - definitely asking too much. And I'm not going to think about whether the depiction of women was good, bad, questionable, or indifferent, because the answer cannot be good and for now I don't care. Most awesome afternoon ever!

Si-len-ci-o...!

Until 9 o'clock last night, David Lynch was my Favourite Director Whose Films I
Haven't Actually Seen. He'd inherited the title from Werner Herzog, and Quentin Tarantino before him, and I'm curious to see who comes along next.

Because last night, we watched Mullholland Drive - the closest thing there is to a dream on screen, and marvellous exercise in "Ghost Light" cinema. Ghost Light being an episode of Doctor Who, its incomprehensibility on par with it's beauty.

I have the same feeling for it's mysteries as I do for Blade Runner. The director has made a film with an ambiguity, and thus you are meant to appreciate the ambiguity. If he had meant it to be solved, he would have solved it. As it stands, I think the director means to give us headaches, no more, and is having on with the promise that it "makes sense". He generously gives us ten "clues" in the DVD case, such as "Where is Aunt Ruth" and "notice appearances of the red lampshade", to muddy the issue further. I don't think there needs to be an explanation - to be beautiful and enigmatic is enough. It makes sense on a thematic, sensory level - if not on a logical one.

If I had to pitch for a theory, I'd say parallel realities that are in a constant loop. The blue box represents shifting from one reality to another, and these events have been played out again and again. Turning the key resets the world, and shifts you to the other one. A bit Sliding Doors, and a bit Run Lola Run, and a bit like Donnie Darko in the way the two realities bleed into one another. It reminds me of a story, but I haven't put my finger on which yet. I'd also say the most important clue on the list is number five - "who gives a key, and why?" - but don't bother your head with the "can you hear the title of the film that Adam Kesher is auditioning actresses for? Is it mentioned again?" , because I knew from the start they wouldn't mention it once. I'm also intrigued by the Adam-Cowboy subplot, partly because it does seem to have something solvable about it. The Cowboy says, if he chooses Camilla, he will see him once more - if he doesn't, he will see him twice. Adam sees Betty across the room at casting and is obviously fascinated, and if Betty had auditioned then he would have picked her. Instead, she runs - he casts Camilla - and you do see the Cowboy once more, in the second reality, where he has physically picked Camilla over Betty.

I was reminded of it when Calypso read me one of Freud's nuttier essays for a laugh. To him, the box represents the female, and also represents death, and in turn, leads to the two fundamental parts of life - the necessity of death and the choice of love. Which is all fruitcakes, especially in the context he was describing it, but it reminded me of the film in several ways. Cinematically, the portmanteau tale reminded me of the Coen brothers at times. It was also a clear precursor to Donnie Darko - not so much the weirdness as the similar soundscape. Oh, the sound! I've never seen a movie with such marvellous sound design before. Very beautiful and strange. As was the sense of dreamlike timelessness - somewhat like Tarantino: he makes modern movies, but with such a retro feel that I am always shocked when characters pull out a mobile or ipod a la Death Proof. Betty is going for a consciuous Grace Kelly thing, but Rita is almost vampiric - as if she had walked straight out of a black and white movie, and had yet to regain all her colour. Her look is just so classical, and creepy.

I'm intrigued by the total control he has over his actors. Total. One of the reasons I'm not always enchanted with film is the concept of control. So, in a book you have total control over every aspect except your audience's imagination - in a comic, you can determine what things look like but have less control over, say, internal monologue or describing the way people speak. In films, you can't determine exactly the look of your actors, nor their performance - actually, they may take your meaning and twist it utterly. David Lynch has them like puppets on strings - a lot of the expressions and manners of speaking, to me at least, seem to come straight from his imagination. I can't define it. It's wonderful.

I want to write an essay about how watching cinema changes you physically. The way people change when watching violence, sex or something scary or romantic. For example, I heat up when watching something scary, and when I am really, really enjoying a film, I discover my breathing rate tends to slow -which is something that did happen while watching. Calypso is a fine person to watch cinema with - she instinctively understands that a movie should be 90% total silence, and 10% movie trivia. Contrary to what you might expect, if nothing pressing is going on, I don't mind interruptions to point out that character X is being played by the director's estate agent, or shot Y is a tribute to an obscure film no one has actually seen. Of course, this percentage changes depending on the nature of the film, but I was intrigued to discover it started life as a TV show. Might explain where all the exposition went.

As it was, it is brief and self contained. Mysterious. Beautiful. Silencio!

You keep calling me Walter. I don't like you.

So, at seven in the evening a film studies friend, obviously having spotted the bloody-smiley I've been sporting all week, asked "Watchmen's been out all day, have you seen it yet?" No, but I was just on the way to the IMAX. He wasn't a big fan of 300 (Jesu, is it only me?), and commented "if it doesn't amount more to a pretty picture, then at least you want to see it on IMAX so it's a really pretty picture."

Fair assessment, but I knew like I've never had faith in anything before, that it had to be good.
The following review contains spoilers, please don't read it.


Quid dicam? This film could not have been better. That's not to say it's the best film I've ever seen, far from it. But as an adaptation of Watchmen, it is everything I hoped.Every character inhabits their part perfectly, except maybe Ozymandeus and we'll come to that in a minute. Dr Manhattan is brilliantly realised - the little twitches of emotion on an emotionless face is just brilliant. Comedian and Rorschach, who I can only define as my two favourite things in the comic, are spot-on perfect. I mean, there's nothing more to say than that - they could have walked off the page. Ach, hell - everyone's good.

But Ozymandeus...Adrian Veidt of the books is such an all-American hero. He needs to be played by someone charasmatic, someone you know would jump out of a helicopter for you without even thinking. A young Robert Redford would be perfect. Now, Matthew Goode's intepretation was widely different to mine, incorrect if you ask me. Yet he did what he was trying to do very well, even if we disagree on characterisation, and I give him permission to play Dorian Gray whenever he likes.

The pacing was what I really worried about, and it's fine. The narrative constructs itself as a series of flashbacks, which is initially a little jarring, until you realise that's what it's doing. There are probably about 8 or 9 flashback sequences in the film, and they're there to colour the main narrative. And do so wonderfully. It's so deliberately episodic that it might have benefited from Tarantino style headings: "Mr White" and all.

As such, it's not so much a story constructed through plot but connections and symbols. Take the knowingly cliched soundtrack: Vietnam is scored to, what else, Ride of the Valykiries. President Nixon and his cabal plot nuclear war on the set of Dr Strangelove. We're operating in a parallel timeline, but the music instantly takes us back to our folk memory of our equivalent era - Sounds of Silence, Bob Dylan, 99 Luftballoons. And that's combined with things like Pat Buchanan and Andy Warhol, even more cultural icons, to let us know where we are. Just don't try and excuse the use of Hallejulah in a scene which was already pretty poor.

You don't even miss the squid. The concept of alien invasion works in the comic, because it's a comic about comics, and comics were always keen into their outer-space stories. It would have felt odd in the film. As an adaptation, this is how it's done, because it's so detail-rich and you know there was more. They lose half Rorschach's origin story, cut my favourite line, snip all over the shop - but the film still feels like a complete entity. I can't wait for the director's cut - apparently, there's going to be three ultimately: the two hours and forty minutes theatrical cut, the three hours and twenty minutes director's cut, and the four hours and thirty minutes ultimate cut, which has pretty much everything in there, including Tales of the Black Freighter.

But they did get some things wrong. I missed Hollis' death. I love both Nite Owls, and it's an important scene. The film could have easily been ten minutes longer to fit that in. With Hollis having been introduced, it's almost certainly been shot. They cut some of my favourite lines: I particularly missed Rorschach scolding Moloch for having a gun without a license. It cements the fact he sees all crime as equally wicked. Rorschach with the hacksaw? It was an awesome scene up until then, but it's not quite as twisted as what he does in the graphic novel (covers him in petrol, hands him a hacksaw, and advises him he probably shouldn't bother trying to cut through the handcuffs before pulling out a match). And the last fifteen minutes dropped the ball, horribly. They get to Karnak and...the ending has to be a kick in the gut. When I read Adrian use the phrase "half an hour ago" I dropped the book and burst into tears, justlikethat, in a way no comic has ever done, and very very few books. The film loses the impact, and I don't know why. And then you turn the page, and there's this full-page panel of a street filled with bodies and death. Then another, and another, and you just keep turning pages and there's nothing but death and silence. It's an awesomely powerful sequence, and an obvious candidate to keep - but they cut it. I don't understand why.

And they managed to make that whole bit at the end into one of those superhero endings which just keep fizzling in little events. It almost worked - particularly a key character claiming not to be a villain from a superhero comic. You could feel an indrawn breath across the whole audience, and this was an audience of fans, most likely all of whom had read the comic at least twice. But then they let the tension go again. The final scene of Laurie and Dan even lacked impact, and they needed about an extra 30 seconds to allow the true horror, genius and even meaning of Ozy's actions. In addition, I think the film was a little too overt in its condemnation of said actions. He's not a bad guy. I think it's telling that the last fifteen minutes were also those containing the most changes. It just lacks meaning, and it didn't feel real. Too rushed, I think.

A lot of people criticised it for a lack of depth. I understand them, to an extent - but it's only a film, and it did its best. And there were good changes too. It made sense for Ozymandeus to do the speaking at the meeting when Comedian burns the map. Although I missed Kitty's half of Rorschach's backstory, I appreciate it had to go - at that point in the film, the emphasis has to be on moving forward.

I mean, I'm only nitpicking because on the whole it was wonderful. Jesu, people! It's stayed true to the book's filthy darkness. Stylistically it's deliberately taken beats from the comic. The score is excellent - on the way to the IMAX, I kept thinking "I'm looking forward to the music", because I knew it had to ditch broad orchestrals in favour of electronica and ambient moodiness. Which it did, most of the time, to great effect. I'm listening to "Edward Blake - Comedian" at present, and it's taken obvious inspiration from Blade Runner. It's detail rich - you need several watches to take in the visuals, never mind the plot. Rorschach's mask - it's just so watchable. I particularly love it when it goes nuts. The hacksaw scene, the shapes just fly all over it. And when he gets thrown across the room, the shapes fly into chaos until he rights himself. The highlight of the film? Rorschach's escape from the apartment block. You're just rooting for him so, so, so much. Even those of us who know he's not going to make it.

Things to look out for? In the comic, Rorschach muses that Adrian is possibly homosexual (with a distinctly disapproving tone) - if you keep your eyes peeled when Dan checks the floppy disk, one of the folders on it is labelled "boys". That made me chuckle. IMDB claims the graphic novel suggests Rorschach is gay, but that strikes me as very unlikely considering the distaste he regards sex with full stop, and also a pointless line of investigation: can you imagine Rorschach with a date? No, thought not. Rorschach also uses a Vedit aerosol when breaking out of Moloch's house. In the prison break, someone uses a wilhelm scream when they are dropped off a balcony. Finally, when Laurie and Dan are at the Gunga Diner, you can see pink triangles on the wall - surely they're the Gay Women Against Rape posters from the comic?Interestingly, the

Aint it Cool review has virtually identical things to say to
me:http://www.aintitcool.com/node/40339And it's helped me to understand what was missing at the end. I am looking forward to

"Oh, and that when you go to see the movie this weekend, you won't be watching Jackie Earl Haley -- Jackie Earl Haley will be watching you."

And I've settled down to what I believe is the most jarring aspect of the Watchmen movie, it's not in the spoilerific section because it's of general interest. Me back on my personal hobbyhorse: Too. Violent.

There are three types of movie violence, broadly speaking.

There's Type 1 "gore" - not very realistic, completely excessive, and designed to produce a football-supporter-style "phwoar!!" reaction. Planet Terror, 300 and Street Fighter are perfect examples. You are meant to visibly wince, and after the film it's appropriate to go "ah, you remember the bit where the guy's head went into the wood-cutter? That was gross, ma$n!"

There's what we'll call Type 2 "kung-fu", although obviously it encompasses all sorts of fights - exciting, viceral, borderline video game, encompassing Star Wars, James Bond and The Matrix. This violence is meant to impress the skill of the fighters on you. Wounds tend to be shrugged off, as are natural reactions: you can be kicked six times in the gut and still be smiling in a Type 2 movie. And so can the audience.

And there's Type 3, "realistic". It's debateable whether Type 3 movies are meant to entertain or not - I believe that the vicarious enjoyment of cinema can be extended to very, very unpleasant scenarios as much as happy ones. But this third type sets out to disturb, not in a childish way like Type 1, but in a very real and horrible way.

And there are overlaps, of course - the jury is out on whether Reservoir Dogs is a type 3 "realistic" or a type 1 "gore". And I'll be interested if you can provide any films which don't fit into those three, random catagories I just plucked out of the blue, so I can refine my explanation.

It's all a problem of semantics, because I'd only actually call Type 3 violent. The most violent scene I've ever seen is in a PG. Our heroes have been kidnapped and lined up against a wall by Character A - except Character B, who's broken his leg, who is lying on a table next along. Character A wants information, but our heroes are naturally too hardass to say anything. So he saunters over the Character B, and just waits. Then he gently rolls the barrel of his gun up the broken leg - obviously intensely painful - and that's it. But it is _violence_ in it's purest form. No excitement, no blood. It's just such a threatening gesture.

Incidentally, The Departed is my favourite depiction of film violence of all time, because it is everything it can be, and I believe it expresses the experience better than any other film. It's thrilling, set to a pumping rock soundtrack - and I think there must be something of a thrill in real violence too, otherwise why would it happen, if it wasn't on some level fun? Yet it's also firmly type 3, because it's hard to watch. You want to join in, but you can't look. And every piece of violence in the film tumbles through this contradiction. It's very effective, and I like it a lot.

The point of this digression is to bitch about the violence in Watchmen. It's a nasty little book, and the world it's set in is just horrible. True, you're seeing it through the eyes of Rorschach who is undeniably paranoid, and regards humanity as crooked and flawed. I was cheered, then, that it was going to be an 18 because this film needs to be nasty.Bit of a disappointment, because the violence was defiantly Type 1. Cartoonish, bloody and totally OTT. Every time soemthing nasty happened, there was an audible wince from the audience. It jolted you out of the film because type 1 gore is dehumanising. J. said to me afterwards, the worst part was the knife going through the woman's leg.I replied that it wasn't that at all - it was the knife going through a leg, not the woman's leg. The fact it was her as opposed to anyone else was irrelevant.

Yes, it was unpleasant but Zack Snyder had never sat back and considered why he was using this violence, what was the purpose. Why, in a film otherwise so grounded in reality, was everything so luridly vicious? Why couldn't it have been a nasty 18, instead of just a splatterific one? From the bone-crunching way the fights were filmed, to the actual colour of the blood, there was something just wrong. Hyper-real, and wrong. It was this aspect, more than anything else (and the fact they cut out my favourite bit), which disappointed me.

Just a conspiracy of cartographers...

I'm a big fan of absurdist drama - Waiting for Godot, about two men trapped in an endless cycle of waiting under a tree; Rosencrantz and Guldenstern are Dead, about two minor characters trying to work out what's going on, trapped again in the endlessly cycling plot of Hamlet; Six Characters in Search of an Author, again about characters who were abandoned by their author and take on a life of their own.

And hundreds more, Pinter and Satre and Camus - those just happen to be the three plays I'm fond of, mostly because they delve into meta-fiction - the idea that fiction isn't real. "No duh", you might be saying - but most films or books expect you to believe them for the duration of consuming them. Wheras characters in an absurdist drama can and do sit down and say "look, I'm not sure we're real..."

I find this fascinating. My line between fiction and reality has always been somewhat dodgy - I do believe that as soon as a story has been committed to paper, why shouldn't it be real? It's no less real than reading a story in the newspaper. You can say "yes, but the ones in the newspaper actually happened" - but you have no more proof, except the words on the page. And what is "actually happened" anyway? Your experience of the events is exaclty the same, if not more vivid, in a book. If you were to imagine that your [insert close person] had been run down by a tram, does the fact that they haven't make your feelings of sorrow any less real? You have the emotional experience - you can't throw it away and say it was nothing.

I'm going to borrow a line from someone else now, but it's a thought I had independantly too, he just puts it very well. If you ever cried at a film - E.T., Top Gun, Casablanca - while a "real life" tragedy has left you unmoved, then what the hell is the difference? Sure - you feel bad about the war/famine/disease/disaster, but in a distant, "bad things happen", nothing I can do to help way. You can't do anything to help E.T. either, mate. Because he's not real. So why are you reaching for kleenex?

With that in mind, and if you're not already calling men in nice shiny white suits to take me away, you can understand why I'd find metatheatre fascinating.


And so we come onto Knife in the Water, a film I positively loathed throughout for various reasons I'll discuss in a minute, until it got to the end and I realised what it was. Absurdist drama!

Look at the hallmarks - mundane, repetitive dialogue. Pointless plot. A location without time, personality, or recognisable features. We're pretty sure it's Poland, and at one point we know it's 5AM. But apart from that, it could be anywhere. And the time/place is meaningless anyway, as the characters are archetypes, one without a name. The Hiker comes and goes out of nowhere, as if he has spent his entire existance waiting by that roadside, and ceases to exist as soon as he gets off the boat. Imagine he's a ghost if you like, only there to spark off the situation. He's a walking plot device. When Andrzej swims off, he seems to disappear. Because they're characters who have no life outside the immediate story.

They do mention other people - the seamen, some parents, the man who could beat Andrzej at jacksticks. But the Hiker's backstory is conveyed only through Krystina's surmises, she has no backstory at all, and all we know about Andrzej is that he is successful, and there's an abstract "meeting" he needs to be at. We see no one else, and no proof of anyone else, in the film. Andrzej himself seems to be conscious of this - assuming the windscreen wipers won't be pinched. Who would steal them? Everyone in that world is on the boat. Which makes their later theft even more surreal.

Even if you don't agree with me, see at least that they are sailing through an empty world. Someone on IMDb suggested that they already knew each other, and I can see where they're coming from: they do seem to be aware of something out of the ordinary. I found the characterisation very uneven and bizzare, as if Andrzej knows he has to invite the guy aboard, even though there's no good reason for him to do so.

The film ends as it begins, preparing the boat, driving off, driving on the road, and you know nothing has changed. The Hiker will stay a daredevil showoff. The couple will stay married. It's my avowed opinion that the three of them are stuck together in this empty, foggy nowhere - emphasised most strongly by the final shot of the car paused at the crossroads. You just know they're going to be there forever. If they went looking for the police, can you imagine them actually finding them?

Even if you don't go as far as me, you can't deny it does have overlaps with the absurdist/existentialist genre. Certainly, looking at the story that way gives an added layer of interest to a film which really, I did not think much of.


It's only 90 minutes - that's shorter than Reservoir Dogs - but boy does it drag. They eat. They posture. They squabble, in a masculine way, about pretty much everything. Sure, it's minimalist, and I appreciate the mounting tension is meant to be gradually conveyed in looks and mundane lines. But something gets lost in translation, and perhaps the fact I knew what they were trying to do dulled its impact on me. It doesn't build and simmer, just comes and goes. Every time the titular knife was produced, it should have produced absolute terror. Maybe it does on other people. When it comes to the climax, it should be at a point where violence is unavoidable and the only solution. Actually, it seems arbritary, like someone is telling the characters that it's time to wrap the story up.



I can see it has merit, and I wish I could appreciate it - but it missed me on an emotional level entirely. Which is in itself a facet of absurdism, a deliberate distancing. I think it wants to be "psychologically taut" - for me, the technical term is actually "boring".


Krystina was by far the most interesting character, and that only when compared to the last fifteen minutes. Having been unimpressed with its attempts at raising tension, when things actually started happening it did get good. I loved the quiet way Krystina asserted her authority over both of them, after all the showing off; I loved Andrzej's guilt for something he hasn't done, and the fact his pride can't admit Krystina cheated. In my opinion, the film would have been better for getting here half an hour sooner.


It's very nice too look at, however. Polanski was trained as a photographer, and you can tell because the cinematography is just beautiful. You got a real sense of the heat, and the stillness, or the fog, or the rain. All was let down, however, by that godawful music. It must be said I'm not the words greatest fan of jazz, especially that noisy style, but every time it comes in it's loud and intrusive and makes me want to die. Again, I think the atonality is deliberate; it doesn't change the fact it doesn't work for me.



The question is, was it written as absurdist drama? Probably not. Mind you, there are plenty of people who are hot on the religious symbolism - most tellingly, the Hiker's crucifixion pose, the walking on water and the boat's name framed often so it merely says "Christ". A flawed theory, I think - because it's meaningless symbolism. The Hiker is not a Jesus figure, in no way (he carries a knife, no discussion needed), and what then does the imagery add to the movie? Roman Polanski has completely rejected that angle; and anyway, isn't he Jewish...?


..while TIME magazine describes it as a trip in a Freudian sloop; and I think you could make a lot of the Oedipal angle - the Hiker's poem is about his mother, and Krystina making sure he eats, tucking him in, drying his hair, is motherly behavior.


So why, then, should I not cling to my theory? It's the only way I can find to appreciate this movie...

What is the worst film ever made? On my sidebar I list Hannah, a cheesy short I saw at a filmfest about a little orphan bonding with her grandmother - though my hatred was considerably heightened by Friend 1, whose name is Hannah, and as far away from that stilton as a person can be. It was the Doctor Who movie for a few hours until I calmed down. The Buffy the Vampire Slayer was limp, unconvincing and suffered badly in comparison to the TV show. an Odyssey movie which was longer than Fellowship of the Ring and had a fraction of its ingenuity, not to mention budget.

This whole thing was sparked off by my friends - I wanted to get them over for a film, and decided Dungeons and Dragons would be good for a laugh (I've long given up dragging them through classics). But no one was around, so I, still indulging my craving for something bad, went over to see Batman Forever instead.

Oh. Dear. Just awful - I wasn't aware they made films this bad. By the second half, I was keeled over in agony on the floor. The music was intrusive and awful. The script was bare minimum. The production design was unpleasant. The costumes were crass.

The actors did their best. Nicole Kidman's role was the most interesting - finally, a spurious love interest who doesn't mince around like she's the love of the hero's life. She has an obvious and obsessive lust for Batman. He fancies her right back. They never even try the "love" word. I kinda like that - how often is pure carnal attraction at the root of blockbuster relationships? She also fits in great with Gotham's existing collection of psychos - her obsessive behavior fits in just great. Gotham's glitterati go to the circus for the social occasion of the season - says it all, really.

Anyone else ever noticed that? The majority of Batman villains - at least, those iconic enough for me to have heard of them, have no super powers? Mostly they're twisted civillians - Two Face, Riddler and Joker to name three. Poison Ivy, I admit, is an exception. Lex Luthor doesn't either (he's Superman, but same universe).

Tommy Lee Jones was great, absolutely great for the first half of this, in what can only be called LedgerJoker mode - a very similar performance, scarily so. It all went downhill when he was paired up with Jim Carrey - who individually, wasn't bad. Now one person on screen, mincing and monologing can just about get away with it. It's when you put these two over-the-top villains on screen together that it falls apart. Its almost convincing alone - but together, its too much, and you just want to scream.

"Too much" could be the watchword of this whole debacle. The problem I had with Dungeons and Dragons is it tried to do something unfeasibly ambitious very limply. Opposite case with Batman Forever - it only tried to do the barest and most obvious plot available, yet with so much enthusiasm it goes too far. The music is REALLY LOUD to tell you something DRAMATIC is happening! The script lacks imagination. The direction and editing is bare minimum and confusing. Val Kilmer makes for a soulless center, and Robin is only ever the "young rookie" of cliche. "I want to help, I'll be your partner!" "No, you can't help I'm fine alone" *Robin saves Batman* "You can be my partner now". Alfred is classy as always. But it's the volume of the villains, combined with the OTT of the sets really caps it off. I watch Doctor Who, OK? I put up with tash-twirling meglomaniacs on a episodely basis, so I've got a pretty high tolerance for over-acted threats of DEATH. But even by my low standards, this was awful.

These people aren't scary. They're not funny. And they're not charming. If a baddy is none of these things, then why does he even bother?

It basically failed by treating it as a comic book movie, and treating the audience as braindead chumps. I can certainly see why The Dark Knight was treated as the second coming - its realistic approach is a breath of air after this day-glo disaster. An hour and a half I'll never get back. Now I'm going to watch Batman Begins to recover.



In other news, they're making the Green Arrow movie!

My contact with comic books is governed by what's in the local library graphic novel section. It's pretty small, so I've devoured the Batman pretty quick and moved onto the rest of the DC universe. I like Green Arrow best, she said, like the girl who joins the Beatles fanclub on the strength of a "best ofs" album. "The Archer's Quest" is the only one I've read, but it was instant fan conversion - its a brilliant comic. Plus, bows and arrows are cool.

I was pretty sure, in this world of "darker" heroes that there wouldn't be room for a grown man dressed as Robin Hood - the costume, if nothing else, would be a bar to him ever getting a movie. Turns out I'm wrong, and if they do it well, then it could well be the most intriguing supermovie ever made.

Supermax - its a prison break movie, with a wrongly incarcerated Oliver Queen trying to escape with the help of various villains he put behind bars. But because its a prison for super-powered people, there are all sorts of additional challenges.

Ace idea - every super hero movie ever made goes down the same route of "12 hours to save the Earth" drama, when every fan of ANYthing knows the small-scale adventures are sometimes the most effective. This is different. It's about superheroes, but they're not saving the world. They're just doin regular stuff. It also scores points for using a tier-2 character like the Green Arrow, and while early reports say the Joker, Riddler and Lex Luthor are all in the script - there's also a whole host of people I haven't heard of, which is good for comic fans. It's nice to let the little people have a go: Blockbuster, Shock Trauma, Gemini, Cascade, Tattooed Man, Multiplex, Djinn, Merlyn, Pied Piper, Latarian Milton, Iron Cross & Heatmonger & Backlash (Aryan Nation), Calculator, Count Vertigo, Floronic Man, Split and Icicle. If that isn't enough, all will be imprisoned - going by their regular names, and without their costumes. Someone is actually trying to make a comic book movie for the people who made the graphic novel what it is - fanfriendly cameos that even I, with casual interest, hope to spot every reference.

So far, so awesome. One question: why the Green Arrow? His power relies completely on gadgetry - he's an ace shot with a bow. Not only will the prison enviroment rob him of his skill, it's not the type of thing you can easily replicate either. If the script truly does put a powerless superhero in the middle of their movie, this could well be the next greatest supermovie ever made...

http://www.slashfilm.com/2007/04/08/david-goyers-unconventional-green-arrow-movie-super-max/




Supermax

You take away all a man has, and all he's gonna have

I blame Trial of a Timelord. The epic 14 part adventure, one of the most unpopular Doctor Who episodes of all time, and one that's got me so tense about what's going to happen next that almost anything seems preferable.

For the last few days, I've been avoiding it - all in aid of my extended family, three of which are coming to stay. I need to be in a fit state to answer questions about my school work, to smile graciously, to not spend whole days on tenterhooks and have whatever I watched last on TV knawing away at my brain.

With Trial as an alternative, an alternative I know will put my brain in an alarmed spin, almost anything seems like a good idea. Like Don't Look Now, the famously terrifying movie, which I never would have even sat down to otherwise.

To watch Don't Look Now, you have to get over the basic idiocy at the root of the plot. Venice, with its canals and waterways, is the worst damn place in the world to get over a drowning. And with its claustrophobic alleys, bridges, sharp corners and shadows, its a bad place if you feel like a nervous breakdown too. I've been there, and it's beautiful - but water is everywhere you look.

The main thing I couldn't get over with this movie was quite how 60's it was. Even though it was made in 1973, it was still in that flush period of cinema. Crosscutting like they'd only just been shown how, exposing flesh as if they'd only just been allowed, suggesting connections and art.

Ignoring how desperatley 60s it is, the whole thing is beautifully shot. Julie Christie is wonderful to look at (she reminds me very much of Friend 7), and Donald Sutherland has a wonderfully twitchy look - he already looks unhinged.

I love the title, and I love the sublties of the plot - it doesn't hold your hand, and there's a lot going on which could only be caught on a second or third watch. The only downside was that overfamilarity with the plot that classic movies have. Yes, I knew what was going on almost blow by blow. But I still enjoyed it.

I'm also amused to see its being remade. Hahahahahaha! Nicholas Roeg has cautiously said he is interested in how it could be reimagined.

That was last night. This afternoon, the same rules applied - not Trial, almost anything but. I first saw Unforgiven on a long haul plane journey, on the recommendation of my dad - logic dictates this must have been about five or six years ago, making me 12 or 13. I remembered it being awesome, and I've meant to rewatch it ever since.

Memory does funny things. I remembered the plot in some detail - who gets killed where, mainly. But I was sure Richard Harris played a larger role - I remember him being soulessly sadistic, completely unsympathisable and getting shot at the end. I'm now wondering if I had him mixed up with Michael Gambon's nasty piece of work from Open Range - not a very good movie, a sort of post-Unforgiven elegaic and ponderous Western, with an awesome gunfight at the end. I've only seen it once, though I have stuck the last 15 minutes on more than that.

I was also suprised by Gene Hackman's character - I remember him being a villain. Now he was unpleasant, but he doesn't do anything wrong. He smashes English Bob to pieces, but they go back a long way, and to be honest who wouldn't want to? Bob was maybe my favourite character, but he's still very smug, enjoys annoying others, and (apparently) makes a habit of badmouthing the President on Independance Day.

Even though Little Bill is mean, I don't feel he steps out of what his job and the age in which he lives demands of him. He does the best he can about the opening scenario - it wouldn't have been fair to hang the pair, whipping was the best "eye for an eye" solution, and the final price of horses was a pretty financially crippling one. Ned didn't deserve to die, but Bill didn't know that - he's just trying to keep violence out of his town. The gun ban is his best idea of how to prevent treasure-seekers coming for their reward - Bob and Munny earn their beatings by ignoring that law. By the end, with the poor dear only trying to build a house, I feel he earns more sympathy than anyone.

What I did remember correctly was the punishing violence, the cruelty in which characters are dispatched, and the bleak meaness that suffuses the whole thing. But only vaguely, like an idea. Maybe this movie is responsible for a lot of my own fiction - I write, only for myself, stories and movies. I 've always refused to be sentimental about the matter - I like death to be cynical and unfair. I haven't yet started rolling dice to see which of my characters gets hit first, but its only a matter of time. I always enjoy movies where bystanders get shot, killers get the shakes, and death is not instantaneous. For one thing, more might do something towards combating the urban violence problem. It also makes for more interesting drama.

I'd remembered all that, but I had forgotten quite how vivid and upsetting the whole thing is. Violent, but not quite that violent...it neatly backs up my theory that violence is about tone and treatment, not about what you see. Some of the most violent moments I've ever seen have been in Doctor Who - they are rendered far more nasty by their unlikely nature. You assume the pacifistic kids program can't be too baDOHJEEZYUCK!...because you're not expecting it. When I'm watching horror movies, or things I know to be unpleasant, I expect far more and am affected far less. I'm not for a moment suggesting Trial is more scary than Don't Look Now; but taken in context - one, a horror classic; the other, an overlit campy sci-fi from British television, your standards are different. Even with my standards raised pretty high, Unforgiven was still shocking. And it's only a 15...

So you see, my resolution to avoid Trial of a Timelord, and thereby stay in a stable state of mind, somewhat backfired. Don't Look Now had me sleep very badly indeed; Unforgiven has depressed me, and put me in the mood to see Reservoir Dogs (another thing which might prove tricky with an 9-yr-old in the house). And as if that weren't enough, apparently the guy hired to write the new Brideshead script is vehemently anti-Catholic...

Just shoot me now...

Decent men in an indecent world.

In their ivory towers, the movie hotshots are trying to predict the Next Big Thing. Lord of the Rings slipped under the radar; who saw The matrix coming, or Star Wars for that matter?

Ignoring The Rings for a moment, I've never been a part of an event movie. At the time it didn't suprise me that LOTR was packing cinemas - because, thats what always happens, right?


The Dark Knight is an event

There was a queue out the entrance and around the building. The cinema was full, completely full. There were kids, adults, men, women; some sporting their Batman T-shirts, the rest just idle fans. This never happens at our cinema - there are only 60 seats on the largest screen, and its rare more than ten of them are filled. There's no slant on the chairs - its just an average size dark room with chairs on the floor.

As if I wasn't already impressed, they then proceeded to watch the entire film in silence - save the odd nervous giggle at the Joker's quips. No rustling sweets, misbehaving kids or chatter.

That's because The Dark Knight is an event movie. There was something special in the air. Me and my friends have been feeling it for months - initially, I put it down to just plain ole excitement. Friend 3 loves superhero movies; I'm getting into graphic novels, but especially Batman (and Green Arrow, but thats beside the point); Friend 5 loves Christian Bale, and Friend 4 was just excited. But when the trailers started appearing, I was frothing more than anything and bouncing like they'd just announced the Hobbit or something.

For one thing, it's blowing up New York again. Movies used to do that all the time, and then a certain real life event came along and did it properly. Suddenly, Towering Inferno was out of fashion, Spiderman and Men in Black 2 were respectfully tweaking their explosive climaxes, and United 93 and World Trade Center entered pre-production. Film will never be the same again - at least not for a while - because Die-Hard-style building explosions are no longer blockbuster fun, its part of the public consciousness. Even me, who deals with real world tragedy by ignoring it, who lives in England away from the epicenter, who lost no one and knows no one who did, even I feel it as a part of my life - because like hiding from Daleks behind the sofa, or queueing for hours to see Star Wars, its part of the folk memory of our times.

So even though nothing was said, I could feel it in the room. Watching Gotham burn was weird because its the first time any city has been attacked this gleefully on screen Since. At the same time, the shaky Joker camera footage, the dark colours, the downbeat tone showed that something has changed in the blowing-shit-up genre. The same can be said of the hostage situations - the "war on Terror" thang has made these real for us as well.

We also had to contend with the ghost of Heath Ledger who is - haven't you heard? - dead, apparently. Again, nothing was said - as if it needed to be, with such a focus in every Dark Knight related piece. But that too leant the film yet another edge and importance.

Lets get this out of the way - he was fantastic, mindblowingly so. But if he gets the Oscar it will be a travesty of justice. Why? Can you remember the last time an actor won an award for a *shudder* superhero movie? That's because it doesn't happen. They're not "real films" at all. Now you can argue that there's never been a superhero film this good; but lets be honest. Hollywood loves sentiment. And if he wins the award, it'll be for being dead. I'm not saying he doesn't deserve the Oscar - he is, as I said, all kinds of fantastic. But under normal circumstances, he wouldn't stand a chance. It'll just prove what a screwed up, biased and hypocritical affair the whole Oscar lark is.

This film was already special - not on its own merits, but the poignancy of real world things it reflected. But thank goodness it was brilliant into the bargain.

Bale. Caine. Oldman. Freeman. Eckhart. Gyllenhall...erm, who have I forgotten - Ledger, of course. And of the less well knowns, we got a bit more Cillian Murphy as the Scarecrow, and ex-Master Eric Roberts as a mafiosi. Oh, and William Fitchner, who's one of those "where do I recognise?" guys, who I think has a wonderful face.

All wonderful. One flaw of the movies is Batman isn't interesting - he's a lot more fun when he's Bruce Wayne (the opposite of the comics). One of the things that makes this film better than any other super-flick is his backup. Lucius, Alfred, Gordon and (here) Dent are all on his side, giving a range of character interaction and scheming.

In the previous film, he was just fighting the scum - here, despite the presence of two super-villains, the same fight against mafia corruption or police informants keeps it grounded in reality.

I particularly loved the Batman - Harvey Dent relationship. Both characters are doing the same thing in different ways - cleaning the streets, one legally, and one dirty. But both are inspired by the other's efforts. It makes for an interesting dynamic, especially with Rachel in the middle. Rachel isn't given anything to do, but Maggie puts in a much better performance than Katie Holmes did last year. She was just adorably insipid. And she's also responsible for a scene that, given a few months, could be one of my favourites ever (to enter spoilerdom, her bravery in hoping that Batman will rescue her date first when both assume he's going to save her - and her wonderful reaction when she realises he isn't. Wow, what a brainjob. It reminds me of a scene in Count of Monte Cristo. I like it when cinema gets cruel.)

Put Gordon in, and you've got a wonderful trio of heroes. I've always thought Gary Oldman's contribution turned him into maybe the biggest hero of both movies. He's helping in the ordinary way he can, and it suprised me how much I cared for him every time he got into danger. Its always nice to see him playing a good guy - in an alternate universe, he'd doubtless be taking on the giggling psycho role instead. Which I'm sure he'd do admirably, but as a "real actor" his reactions are endlessly watchable. Nice to look at too.

But its all about the direction, really - Nolan gives the whole franchise a sense of dignity and subtlety. Obvious scenes are cut short or missing, suggested by slight reactions. Fight sequences are rooted in dialogue and plot.

That man knows how to make a film. Watch the direction of Two Face - the final confrontation, the ugly half is shadowed to make him a diseased man in a real situation, to make the tension more real. Watch the times when his head is turned one way or another. Its wonderful (and justabout makes up for the fact that Two Face really isn't as interesting as Harvey was. Aaron Eckhart has this wonderfully RobertRedfordish look. Clean shaven, blonde hair - like Redford, he's made for playing decent, upstanding Americans. I didn't buy his emotional transformation, and I wish his makeup had been a little less extreme - he's a very pretty person, and it would have been better had they concentrated on making his honest beauty completely warped and twisted rather than replacing half his head with Imoteph The Mummy. It could have been more devastating - it was only the reactions of the other characters which cemented what a total tragedy his loss was.)

The final Joker scene, hanging upsidedown but with the camera the wrong way up, swaying in the light and the wind is one of the most inspired pieces of direction - cemented of course, by a terrifically freaky piece of acting.

Its cunningly avoided a 15 too. There are a dozen incidents which, with the addition of a bit of blood, would nudge it into a higher catagory. I've always had a lot of faith in the BBFC, but if this is a twelve then Ed Wood deserves an Oscar. Only some very creative cutting snuck it into a lower band - like prosecuting a mobster, when you know he's guilty but don't have the evidence to prove it; thus here, I could feel this film was meant to be a 15, even though it avoided any shots which would move it up.

My one criticism is I didn't know when it was going to end. This might seem mean, but I like to know how much further I've got to go. Even in offbeat, indie efforts, you can normally identify if you're in the climax, the buildup, the payoff. There were several moments when I felt the film was rounding to a conclusion - but then it started up again. I always find that unsettling.

And as usual, a trip to My Local Fleapit Cinema couldn't completely be without hitch - today, they had got their sound balance all wrong - the dialogue was frequently too quiet, drowned out by the music. Which is a pity, because whenever the thumping strings came in it felt intrusive. Shame, because the Zimmer-NewtonHoward team up creates some pieces of music I love - so it was a pity to hate them in context.


Anyway, that's that over - bring on film three! But if you think I'm kidding about the "special" thing, check out IMDb. Dark Knight is beating out Shawshank Redemption and The Godfather on the top 250. it won't last - big new films always jump onto the list then vanish. So even though I'm sure it'll eventually drop, that's one loud round of applause from the internet, for a film only out a few days. Check out the poll - 29.9% think its better than The Godfather, with a very very close 29.2% arguing its worse. I voted for Godfather, incidentally.


In other news, I've just finished reading "Force 10 from Navarone" the sequel to the novel which Guns of Navarone, one of me faves, was based on. It was great! Well, strictly, it wasn't - it was pure pulp, an above-par airport novel. But I loved it, and the novel was far less trashy than it could have been.

The surviving heroes of the first book are catapulted into yet another situation which requires random silent killings, manipulation, sabotage, betrayal, and it's every bit as morally bankrupt as the movie.

I loved the film for its characters - all present and correct - and particularly their silent interaction to resolve tense situations. You may recall the scene on the boat when they are boarded by German soldiers and wordlessly, after a few minutes, explode into violence. The book is stuffed with such scenes. Like the film, even though it looks and feels like a goodole Boy's Own romp, its not afraid to ask tricky questions and be bleak about the cost of war.

But I won't be watching the movie. The lack of the original cast has already killed the idea for me, and it looks like they've replaced Stavros with an American character played by Harrison Ford.

Hold the press. I take it back. Locations list: "Jersey, Channel Islands". I live in Guernsey, a slightly smaller island only 20 minutes away. Now that's more exciting, although I find it hard to tally the remote pine forests, relentless snow and harsh terrain with the glorified seaside resort across the water. A closer look at the list reveals they filmed in Yugoslavia and Montenegro - that must be the Yugoslavia bits then. But they can't have used it for Navarone, surely? the Malta location seems far more likely. So then what? The Italy scenes are more likely to be in one of the studios.

Nevertheless, that has piqued my interest. As has the presence of Paul Jerricho, who played a minor character I loved from 70's Doctor Who.

But the reviews suggest it's not quite as morally taut as the original - and the absence of Peck'n'Niven, not to mention cutting Stavrous entirely, means this is still a lost cause. Now, as for reading the Guns of Nav book, I'm very excited indeed - as soon as I find a copy, that is...

Oooh, and interesting trivia which I wondered about for the whole book. Mr MacLean wrote Force 10 as a sequel to the movie, not his original novel.

In these parts...

The problem with iconic milestone movies are so busy being milestones they forget to be movies too. Take Birth of a Nation - famous for inventing cross-cutting, moving cameras and modern language of cinema; famous for being shamelessly racist. The Jazz Singer - the first talkie. Everyone knows that. Cinema kids are born knowing it. Who needs to see it? And so on.

What they forget to tell you is that these films are sometimes bloody brilliant too, as well as being a museumpiece. And so we get onto In The Heat of the Night, which I implore you to see as soon as possible.

This is mostly thanks to Sidney Potier (or "ney Potier" as he was credited, before I moved to a TV that could handle the aspect ratio), who's all fire and ice and rage, all wrapped up in stillness and silence. To top it off, he doesn't half look lovely in that suit. And I really wanted him to survive to the end - which, to be honest, is something I rarely ever do. I'm always secretly hoping for a violent, a shocking, an ironic twist on what we've already seen. This is chiefly in bad movies, or at least ones I know are going to do the obvious thing. Rob Roy, anyone? When a movie is good, such as the Three Colours Trilogy, it earns the right to a happy ending. Really, genuinely rooting for a character to survive is a rarity in these parts. Rod Steiger won the Oscar, and I guess he's great too. But, seriously?

"In these parts" would be a good phrase to apply to the rest of it. Sure its about race, but its also about small towns. I live in a small town - actually, its an island - think Wicker Man's Summerisle meets Hot Fuzz's Sanford. That's us - all town carnivals, country fetes, jam making competitions and backbiting gossip. I have little difficulty believing that HOT FUZZ SPOILER our local council would assassinate someone for having an awful house.

It manages to do all the detective movie cliches, from gradual grudging acceptance to "You have two hours to solve the case", yet somehow it all stays convincing. And kudos to the exciting direction too. You can really tell this movie was made in the 60s - not only for its frank discussion of racial issues, but the sense of playing around with the camera. I particularly liked the slow zoom on the fugitive as he flees across the bridge to Arkansas.

To cap it off, the soundtrack is wonderful. More movies should start with decent theme songs.



It must be something in the water. I went to the library to take out my two classic DVDs as usual, and came back with this and Mephisto - another serious drama, this time about Nazis. What's wrong with me?! Normally I avoid this "real life issues" cinema like anything!


The B-feature to today's post is a link to yet another essay on movieviolence affecting real life behavior:

http://www.cybercollege.com/violence.htm

It's defending the belief that yes, screen violence does directly increase it in real life.

I have personally always believed that while violence on screen can sometimes be a trigger or inspiration for real life violence, cinema alone will not turn you from an upstanding citizen into a psychopath. I hold as Evidence A, me myself. I'm a walkover, a doormat, quite possibly the least aggressive person you've ever met, so nice it's actually too nice. I feel guilty about killing mosquitos - which I rarely do anyway. Usually, I let them live. That's how passively unviolent I am. This essay blithely claims:

"Studies show that people who watch a lot of TV violence not only behave more aggressively, but are more prone to hold attitudes that favor violence and aggression as a way of solving conflicts. These viewers also tend to be less trusting of people and more prone to see the world as a hostile place."

Hmmmm...now you see, normally I'd dismiss a claim like that out of hand. As we've already established, I watch and enjoy a high level of screen violence, while remaining an utter pansy. Yet what about the second half? In all honesty, I do get rather paranoid at times; and a triple whammy of Easy Rider, Borat and Heat of the Night has just totally put me off America.

In any case, even though it momentarily made me sit up and think whether all this stabbin' and shootin' was affecting me after all, nevertheless it is not a very good essay. It goes on to associate Christianity with the violence problem to prove humanity is naturally violent - which is total bull, because if people are getting killed over religion, then you're doing it wrong. It's too biased, and its evidence is weak.

Can I arrange a hit for Tuesday evening?

What the hell was wrong with the 90s? Did everybody suddenly wake up and realise their life was worthless? I refer, of course, to the triple whammy of American Beauty-Fight Club - The Matrix, all basically attacks on the cubicle-worker existance. Good old 1999, vintage year for movies or so I'm told.

It must have been something in the air, and last night I watched Office Space, 1998's black comedy about - yup - depressed office workers; Fight Club without the violence, if you like. It appears to have been written as an act of total wish fufilment. That's pretty much all I can think of to say about it - I loved it, and I recommend it to any frustrated office workers in the mood for something lighthearted.




I've just come back from holiday in Italy. Bit of a trial, really, as my knowledge of the language was cribbed from The Godfather movies. Consiquently, my entire vocabulary consisted of "father", "family", and "can I arrange a hit for tomorrow night?" - not that useful to your average traveller. And that was about Sicilians anyway...we think we might have seen some mobsters one evening too. Apparently, the mafia is still a big problem in Italy. I'd kinda thought it had died down, but we found the anti-mafia office in Florence, mafia-related songs on MTV (all rap; it's the equivalent of getting out of the ghetto songs, I suppose) carry anti-mafia warnings. Hilariously, MTV's anti-mafia logo is the little hand with the puppet strings a la Godfather - which is one of the least anti mafia films I've ever seen. Even though Michael Caine carrying a massive sodoff gun has become an iconic 60s image, I might recommend Get Carter to put off anyone considering a career in organised crime. It's entirely without illusions, and very unpleasant to boot. Mind you, I'm probably the only person who's ever decided to become a military helicopter pilot after watching Black Hawk Down, so maybe it wouldn't work...

We spent a lot of time on Italian music channels, basically because the films were all dubbed. Such a torment. Although we caught Grease one evening (the songs were all from the original), and they showed Apocalypse Now: Redux another. That was exciting. If you want to listen to some anti-mafia Italian rap, may I recommend Cappotto Di Legno by Lucariello - and stay clear of current chart topper In Italia, which is the most mind-numbingly awful piece of music I've heard in any language.

We also did some set-trooping. We visited Florence with a Baedeker, and found the square and church from Room With a View. As I've already noted, The Godfather was set and filmed in Sicily, but we did also get to ogle the Venice sets from Brideshead Revisited TV. Venice is absolutely the most romantic place on earth, and packed with shops selling carnival masks. Most are tat for the tourists, but some are gorgeous. And one such shop proudly advertised that it had provided the masks for Kubrick's Eyes Wide Shut.


Speaking of Kubrick (kneel and pray, folks), I've now seen Paths of Glory and enjoyed it very much. My mum's comments was that she "couldn't see the point". I sympathise with this - it was wonderfully made, the performances were great, and all in all a powerful piece of drama, but apart from admiring the pretties I too felt a something missing. But who cares - it was gorgeous, He really does have a thang for long, wide shots which I love.

Finally, I've just finished K- Unpronouncable's Three Colours Trilogy, and I lovem. Lovemlovemlovem. They're just involving on every level. The music is brilliant. The direction is so pretty that even when nothing is happening, its beautiful. The link between the three films - three colours of the french flag, and all about the three ideas they represent - means that every film has a strong colour palette. I also like the ironies of the way the central concept is used. Blue is about liberty - but it's freedom by isolating yourself from everything. White is equality in the sense of getting even. Only Red, fraternity, doesn't try to be clever - its about communication, or the lack thereof in the modern world. Even my sister, who can sometimes be a bit blonde, loved Red. And the endings, while maybe obvious, are terribly satisfying. And did I mention the music is wonderful?

There are two things you have to know about me before I start reviewing Perfume. The first is that I have no sense of smell. Now of course, I must have one - its not like I was born disabled. I can still taste food, for example, and taste is closely linked to smell. But most smells are lost on me. I don't notice smokers in restaurants. I can't smell sewage, flowers, the sea. The idea of a "summer" smell is alien. In contrast, Friend 5 is real big on it - apparently, my house has a particular smell, and every now and then she'll catch a scent and instantly recall a time. The most recent olifactory experience I've had was with rotting celery, but that had been pinned to my hair for several hours before I noticed it. The smell, not the celery. I knew the celery was there.


I only point this out because smell isn't a sense I use at all, yet Perfume made me suffer from phantom smells all the way through. I understood what it would be like to have these sensations, without a reliable knowledge. Some masterly direction going on, methinks - like explaining green to a blind man.

The second is about the creepy-deepy stuff. What the back of the box calls "distubing imagery and sexualised nudity". My favourite series of photos by my favourite photographer is images of murdered women. Actually, I have them as my screensaver. I can see you backing off and smiling weakly - honestly I'm not a serial killer. I just love the way he uses the light, and creates images that are really, really wrong, without exactly knowing why. Look at them - they start here, and keep clicking right. All his pictures are somewhere in this line, though.

Imagery is a big - maybe the biggest thing for me in film, and much of the look of Perfume reminded me of these photos. All good directors are effectively creating art in the way they frame the screen.

It's a two-way process too - lots of Recuenco is inspired by old movies (and the next few to the right), 40s movies (and to the right), even Kubrick (this one and the next two to the left - Clockwork O, Dr Strangelove, and is the third meant to be Paths of Glory?)

With excellent direction and superb visual pretties, what else is there left? Well, the plot was fun - and I particularly liked the surreal direction it took towards the end. There were flaws, though. The acting was competant, but couldn't cover the characters were simply cardboard cutouts. The Murderer was drawn the best; but Alan Rickman's daughter was merely a sacrificial lamb to the plot. She was very nice to look at though.

The problem compounded: the script was prime awful. I only mention this because a) films based on books tend to have decent scripts if nothing else and b) I almost never notice them, so this must have been especially dull. To make the issue worse, its lumbered with a fairy-tale style monologue, lacking in charm. What he's saying is interesting, but the way he does it stinks. No pun intended.

It still comes highly recommended though - its just wonderful to look at, and the soundtrack prevented me from sleeping. That's right - not the imagery, or the plot, or the dead naked people. The music. Shudder!

I don't want to use the word "orgy", because its taken on a decadantly sexual meaning, and that's not what the scene was about - it was about love.

We two against the world.

So we watched Planet Terror. Did I enjoy it? Stupid question. It was everything I expected it to be, and awesome to boot.

PT is unashamed trash, glorious wonderful trash. The script is knowingly awful (but never at the expense of a few good lines - say, the running joke about useless talents), but you watch it to see a babe with a machine-gun-leg, not Proustian digressions on the nature of the self.

Speaking of legs, this movie came out last year when my sister broke her thighbone. At the time I suggested she have it replaced with a gun - even though it was the other leg. I'm not sure she appreciated the suggestion. Ironically enough, the broken leg would resurface as we watched - she repeatedly pointed out the medical flaws in Cherry's ability to walk, talk, swear, shag, ride a bike, on account of her being a) in shock and b) under anesthetic. Everytime I began to explain that, having been attacked by zombies, presumably the zombie-juice would cauterise the wound in some way, she replied defensively that I had no idea what it felt like, and she did. Which presumably means there's something about the whole "I just broke my leg while on a cycle" scenario that she's not telling me...

I loved the jumpy, scuffed up style. In my opinion, the film would have been dire without it. It took the film one level more away from reality - allowing for greater gore content and excusing the deliberately terrible bits. At the same time, the raw nastiness of the screen quality amped up the nastiness of the movie, giving it a surreal, lurid quality. When I was looking for a copy of Saw to view at Halloween, the only one I could find to borrow was a pirate edition which was savagely blurred - I bought it in the end, because the script and performances alone were not atmospheric enough without the mucky detail of the bathroom set. And thus here, the occasional jumps and scuffs, those moments when everything but red washed out of the film, the sound was all crackled up, the image wobbled or the film burnt up entirely. Hell, its just like our local cinema!

At the same time, it still made a good movie. I loved the Wray-Cherry relationship, the sherrif-Wray relationship (and wasn't the idea of placing the inevitable scene when they bond man-style in the "missing reel" a genius one - we instantly know what's gone on), and the two brothers (particularly when it gets all buddyish). And I want Dakota's syringe gun!

Turns out my family are as nerdy on Robert Rodriguez as I am - Dad identified Cheech Marin as Sex Machine from Dusk til Dawn, while my sister spotted the running Machete gag from Spy Game, and I identified Dakota's son Tony as Rodriguez's own son Rebel. Incidentally, don't RR's kids have the coolest names - Rebel, Racer, Rocket and Rogue. His daughter is a more restrained Rhiannon. Although it might come as a hinderance when Rocket wants to become a tax attorney, it's an awesome name for a kid.

RR still makes his films like indie films, despite having the mainstream budget. Planet Terror, for example, stars his personal physician as a doctor, and his real estate agent as a strip club owner. He used his own son because he didn't want to genuinely traumatise a child. And if you've seen the film, check out the imdb FAQ for further details of his son's role because its just fascinating. The bottom line is: I love this guy.

Favourite fact from imdb: John Carpenter was originally involved in the music, and although RR eventually wrote it himself, extracts from Escape from New York appear. You may well ask why this is so interesting. One of my mid-movie reactions was noting the similarity of both movie and music to John Carpenter's Assault on Precinct 13. It's always nice to prove yourself right...

Afterwards, we watched a particularly violent episode of Battlestar Galactica, and I was back to wincing. Planet Terror's gore is so over the top - the lurid over-saturated colours make it look less like ketchup and more like a sort of salsa - that it soon ceases to have an effect. Coupled with the outlandish plot, its far less disgusting than BSG's rather restrained garotting which was set in a realistic place. Well, relitavely...

I just wish I could have seen it on screen. And I wish I could drag my friends around to see it - it's the type of film that should be seen with friends. As it was, I watched with father and sister who were a good audience. It's just a pity its way. way. way. way. too unpleasant in every way for my buddies. I wouldn't enjoy it, because they wouldn't. But I might get them to see Death Proof - a girly movie, with lots of car chases.

My only fear is that, with Planet Terror turning out so good, I won't enjoy it as much. Especially because that movie was the one I was most excited about - the grunge, grime and horror. Death Proof sounds like more its own film, and less of such a faithful pastiche.

Speaking of QT, I saw a horribly exploitative offer in town today. It's one thing to be ripped off; its quite another to recognise you are being ripped off, and want it anyway. It's a limited edition Reservoir Dogs case. I say limited edition - I mean cheap knockoff. The DVD cover's like none I've ever seen before, and the whole thing smacks of a shoddy pirate effort. It comes in a case with handcuff cufflinks, Vic Vega dogtags, a Vic Vega flick-razor (it's actually a comb, but it looks like the razor, so who's counting), sunglasses and - the ultimate in tasteless cool - a Vic Vega cigarette lighter. Now what the fuzz would I do with a lighter? I don't even smoke, and I'd run out of cops to burn pretty quickly. But...but...its so preeeety...

Anyway, good sense prevailed - I can't justify it. But I can ogle it lovingly all the same. Instead, I got Paths of Glory and The Big Lebowski in the HMV £4 sale, and took All About Eve out of the library. It's gonna be a good week...

He's a disco-dancing, Oscar Wilde reading, Streissand ticket holding friend of Dorothy, know what I'm saying?

Who would want to be a guy? Girls have all the freedom. I can watch any genre I like - guys can't. If I parade crime as my movie dish of choice, no one minds - in fact, its really rather cool. I don't know a single guy who admits to loving romances - do they exist, or are they just very quiet about it?

At the same time, when the misery of no romance finally hits following the end-of-school dance, I can still indulge in a mega-marathon of Brief Encounter, When Harry met Sally and Clueless, armed with one box of kleenex and one box of chocolates. Who would be a man?!

Brief Encounter is what happens when one wakes up with "As Time Goes By" in the head, realises there's no legal way to get hold of Casablanca before 11o'clock, and has to settle for second best - the British black-and-white smoldering couple instead of the American; train stations instead of airports. I wasn't entirely joking about the kleenex either - while I handled the latter two movies, well, like a man, I actually cried all the way through Brief Encounter. Which is probably a new record. Or something. I'm a pretty easy cry, but this was impressive even by my standards. All the way through.

I was impressed by the music - 40s movies tend to drown in their overwritten scores. BE did drown, but it matched the mood of the film very well. All or most of it was Rachmaninoff's Second Piano Concerto. I'm not a classical expert - but you'd recognise it if you heard it, because the tune was ripped off as "All by Myself". So while the swells of piano and strings echoed the emotion, certain scenes appeared to be accompanied by the famous love ballad. To pretty good effect as well.

To say its an old film, a lot of Laura's dialogue feels so real and raw. Definitely not a film to watch when feeling sore over love yourself. Mind you, romance never gets old. One of the attractive thing about Ovid's love poetry (written in the good ole Roman days, remember) is how fresh and modern it feels.

Incidentally, my favourite scene was between Alec and his friend Steve. It was bizzare for showing Alec apart from Laura - everything else was from her point of view, leading to the post-1999 interpretation that maybe he's a figment of her imagination. Like ignoring James Stewart for five minutes, and giving Harvey a whole scene to himself. I liked the sudden danger it gave the film - the tone was emotional and bittersweet, but Steve knowing gave it a threatening reality, and his amused reaction made their behaviour seem truly sordid. I'm not in the habit of assuming just because a writer is gay his characters will be gay also (and its a hard position to defend when Oscar Wilde is your favourite author), but I kinda assumed Steve was, at least as gay as one could be in the 40s. His slightly jilted reaction suggests Alec does have a whole world apart from Laura, which you never feel in the rest of the film.

When Tarantino made Pulp Fiction, he told all the characters to assume they were the hero of their own movie - a Mia Wallace movie, a Pumpkin and Honey Bunny movie, whatever. Its an attitude I like to take to films in general. I want to see the Steve and Alec film, not because I think Alec is anything other than entirely straight, but because it would be interesting...

And finally, he's played by Valentine blummin' Dyall! I only just found this out, but excited doesn't cover it. I'm checking the video as we speak. The "Man in Black" was in 70s Doctor Who as the Black Guardian (my no. 1 vote for villain who should come back into the new series), in my 2nd favourite episode of all time Enlightenment. I can see why I didn't recognise him - he looks different 40 years younger, without a big black eeevil cape and a dead bird on his head.

In short it was wonderful. Its certainly made a good double bill with When Harry met Sally (well, I watched BE the evening before, and WHmS the morning after, but the effect was the same). Particularly the moral "men and women can never truly be friends because the sex part always gets in the way", which really could have applied to Brief Encounter. Even though I felt too young to appreciate it properly - I'm still a good ten years off being a thirty-something wondering why she isn't married and depressed about middle age - I'm enough of a pessimist to get the idea. I admired it as a rom com because it was desperately romantic, without being cheesy. By the time it got to its cliches, it had earned them by being so cynical earlier on.

Incidentally, the new year speech - the one at the end - was printed in Empire as a great scene, and I loved it so much I bought the movie. At least Brief Encounter's famous last scene is repeated at the start, so you don't have to wait the whole thing for the stuff you recognise.

And then onto Clueless, which I watched with my sister. We both found it hilarious - until I realised or remembered it was based on the novel Emma. At that point, knowing the rest of the story, my enthusiasm faded. Final verdict - very good, but give me the Heathers any day.

PS

Am I a bad friend? Ever since Grindhouse was announced, I've been really excited to see it. I groaned when it didn't come to England intact; I complained when it didn't come to our island at all. I've already got the soundtrack; I already quote it. If you check in regularly, you'll probably be sick of hearing about it. One of the worst nights of my life was spent in a hotel room between the hours of 8 and 11:30, with a full version of Grindhouse showing at the cinema next door from midnight onwards. It was torture - I can't handle late nights, and it would have been better had my parents said "no" outright - at least then I could have got angry at them, instead of gradually feeling my strength seep away, and realising I couldn't handle (let alone enjoy) any film (let alone one criticised for its length) if I was already too tired half an hour before it starts.

Finally, I start seeing it in DVD shops. Initially, I decided to wait for the inevitable three disc set - the real film, packaged with the long versions of Planet Terror and Death Proof which made it through English cinemas. But it's been years since Kill Bill, and there still isn't a decent boxed set out. So I gave in in the recent bargain sale and bought both.

That was two weeks ago - the path of true love never did run smooth - and the next obstacle was my family. Namely my mother and sister - but eventually an occasion when they are both out presents itself - Friday. Today. Am I excited? Oh yes. But there's a problem...

Two days ago, my friends and I went out for breakfast. Its the summer holidays, and our usual meet ups have been getting dull. Hence we are becoming more creative. Breakfast was one novel replacement for going out for dinner. We started planning a barbacue. For Friday.

Folks, what do I do? I can't throw over a party for a DVD I can watch anytime...can I? Its not like I have somewhere else to go - I'm just staying in on my own. But...but...but...