Friday 29 January 2010


I don't usually get upset when famous people die. I remember when Princess Diana and the Queen Mother and all that died, and were all over the news. I was mostly just irritated that I couldn't watch ANYTHING; we only had 4 and a half channels and every single one seemed intent on ruining my after-school schedule. Michael Jackson's death was probably the biggest media circus of the year, (closely followed by Jade "I still don't like her but kind of feel like I have to" Goody). For me, it was second to another headline which was listed above it on the BBC website: "STONED WALLABIES MAKE CROP CIRCLES" ( http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/8118257.stm )

That was how I actually read it out- "Michael Jackson's dead. Ooh, and stoned wallabies make crop circles! LOL!". I guess I just didn't feel any connection to these rich, pampered media brats. Their lives weren't anything like my own, nor had they ever been. I wasn't a huge fan of them when they were alive, so why should them not being around have any great effect on me? I didn't even think Heath Ledger was that terrific aside from the occasional powerhouse turn in Monster's Ball (in fact, he is the only thing I remember liking about that movie. Don't watch it), Brokeback Mountain and of course, The Dark Knight. Oh, and, umm, 10 Things I Hate About You (sshhh.....). The only time I ever felt any profound feeling when a 'celebrity' died was Hunter S. Thompson's shock suicide in 2005. I was a huge fan of the film Fear And Loathing in Las Vegas, and one summer, I read the book of the same name AND Kingdom of Fear. I loved them; I loved the style of writing and felt in Fear and Loathing especially the jerky tone perfectly suited the drug-induced dialogue. Reading it was clearer and more vivid than even the movie. He died a year or so later, and a (considerably more upset) friend and I had a night out in his honour. Basically it involved multiple shots and slurring "all energy flows according to the whims of the great magnet". Good times, and the first time I ever felt strangely affected. The same feeling came over me on Wednesday, when I read in the paper that JD Salinger had died. He was the same kind of strange writer I thought I'd be if ever I made money from my scribblings; although maybe not the kind I'd want to be. His 1951 novel, Catcher In The Rye, was such a huge success that he came under great scrutiny, and published his last work in 1965. He became pretty much a total recluse, appearing in the media only when involved in unfavourable legal battles. Catcher In The Rye, an instant success, tells the story of the now-iconic Holden Caulfield: he is 17, recently expelled from his exclusive private boarding school, and makes his way alone to New York City. The novel is told in first person, in Caulfield's disillusioned, alienated voice, freely discussing sex and anti-religious sentiments, referring to adulthood as "phony" and people as "morons". As you can imagine, it caused a bit of a stir. I first read it when I was 17, after watching the film The Good Girl. Jake Gyllenhaal plays a character who lives his life by the novel, even changing his name to Holden. I won't ruin the film, 'cause it's actually really good (Jennifer Aniston totally surprised me. She's actually a much better actress than Rachel would have you believe), but I'll just say things don't end up so well with poor old Holden. It's the kind of film that stayed with me for a while afterwards. I'd heard of the book, yeah, but didn't really know what it was about. It sounded like the kind of book people read just to say they'd read it; like people who read Animal Farm for standard grade English and then say they're well up on George Orwell. So off I went to- yes- Fopp, which sells every book you could ever hope to be seen reading. (Here, I have also picked up Breakfast at Tiffany's, Kingdom of Fear and The Princess Bride, aren't I cool?!). I bought the book and read it like I did with most things at the time- on the megabus. I was living in Aberdeen for uni and endured the torturous 4-hour bus journey there, and back again, once a month. If you've ever been subjected to the delights of the megabus tour of Scotland, you'll know there's not much distraction from the mind-crushing boredom and enchanting motorway scenery. So, I read, read again, and read some more. The thing which stuck about Catcher In The Rye was Holden's sense of diasplacement and alienation. Considering the circumstances in which I read it, I felt like I could relate somehow; constantly flitting between Aberdeen and Glasgow, getting to grips with a whole new life away from home, feeling an attachment to home while everyone else's lives progressed without me and, all in all, not really finding one particular place I classed as 'home'. Cliched as it sounds, it really struck a chord with me because I could see things in Holden Caulfield that I recognised about myself. His language is a little stilted, and largely his perceptions as a narrator are disjointed and unreliable, but it spoke to me, maaaaaan. In saying that, I didn't get alot of the interpretations and nuances fully until I re-read it. Alot of the book is taken up with tangents; and Holden's language, while historically accurate, is full of teenage colloquialisms from the time of publication, making it quite difficult to get involved in.

Still, sort-of-language barrier aside, it quickly took its place amongst my favourite books, and I felt a deeper affinity for it when I learned that it was actually semi-based on Salinger's own experiences as a teenager. It made the charcter seem like a fully-rounded person, rather than a generic creation of fiction pulled out of the air. It's the kind of book I pick up maybe once a year or so, just to remind myself why I like it so much. I think the reason I felt such like I actually cared when Salinger died, was because I cared about the character he'd created. It resonated with me personally; in the same way as Hunter S., I got totally involved in their worlds, through their words. Even the most common activities of Holden's experience were involving because his unpredictability made him an extremely readable character. The two examples might be complete opposites in terms of style and genre, but the way in which these authors expressed themselves was unique to them- it's totally their own distinctive voice, which is something I've yet to find in my own writing. But I like to think that I will.
So, yeah, I don't get upset when famous people die. They haven't added anything to my life. But when I feel like someone has really spoken to me, and made me feel a connection to their creations, I feel genuinely saddened. Which I suppose is all a good writer can ask for, really.

Tuesday 26 January 2010

"His Kind Of Music Isn't On The Hit Parade....!"

Ah, musicals. Possibly one of the most derided, and yet celebrated, genres in film history. They're often mocked for being hollow and unrealistic- yeah, sure, people don't just burst into song and dance in real life. Quite often, they lurch from one number to the next without much in the way of narrative. Sometimes, when the songs are strong enough, this isn't a problem. Grease, for example, isn't often remembered for its fabulous dialogue, but you'd struggle to find someone who doesn't know at least one of its many showtunes. From the musicals I've seen, cohesive and 'deep' storylines seem to be surplus to requirements anyway. As such, they tend to follow a very basic narrative structure- usually some spin on Romeo and Juliet (West Side Story, Grease, Moulin Rouge) or a unconventional protagonist with some sort of obstacle (Hairspray, Chicago). Either way, there's normally a hefty amount of saccharine lumped in as well, which often makes them difficult to swallow. Or so I thought, anyway.

I've been working hard on my resolution to watch as many as possible of my 'Films I've Always Meant To Watch, But Never Got Round To'. Whilst trawling through FOPP for a hidden gem for £4 or under (I was buying Audition at the same time, and only had a tenner on my gift card). My mind was drawing a blank, when I saw a fresh-faced, hollow-cheeked rockabilly pouting back at me. For the low, low price of £3. I picked up Cry-Baby, put it down, picked it up again and humm-ed over whether or not to buy it. I'd heard of John Waters obviously, but alongside the words 'grotesque', 'disgusting' and 'bad-taste'. This can be a good thing, in many cases, but there are certain styles which even I find difficult to stomach- imagine an amped up version of Edward Scissorhands' lurid pastel suburbs and you're about there. It just gives me the creeps. Cry-Baby, however, featured rockabillies, motorbikes, 50s rock 'n' roll music AND the appearance of Startlingly Young Johnny Depp. Aged 26 when the film was made, he easily passes for about 5/6 years younger- it's quite bizarre seeing him play a high school rebel singing about being a teenager... trust me, watching him strut about in 50s rocker gear is TOTALLY worth it.


Depp at the time was a teen heart-throb thanks to appearances in Nightmare on Elm Street and 21 Jump Street. Here he sends up this image brilliantly as Wade 'Cry-Baby' Walker, who can make women instantly fall in love with him by shedding a single tear. Cry-Baby is a rebel, or 'drape', from the wrong side of the tracks, a rockin' and rollin' orphan whose family of misfits and hillbillies are a million miles away from that of 'square' Allison (Amy Locane). She is bored of her austere background, brought up by her grandmother, who runs a charm school. She falls for Cry-Baby and, despite their different backgrounds, he falls for her, too. He and his misfit friends, including Rikki Lake and ex-porn queen Traci Lords (whose image in the film I'd actually kill for- she looks amazing) are in a band, and Allison longs to be like them.


(I wish I looked like this every day...minus the blonde hair mind you, my hair doesn't seem to want to go that colour. As I found out first hand...)

Trouble inevitably ensues when Allison decides to ditch her square boyfriend (who's such a horrible chauvinist creep, despite being the Ideal Man in the eyes of her grandmother) and ride off on the back of Cry-Baby's motorbike. This is a step too far for the square community, and they resort to trashing the drapes' cars and motorbikes. Cue a hilarious courtroom scene, a brief but memorable cameo by a Non-Wrinkly Willem Defoe (I know, right?) and a jailhouse singalong that's been rattling around in my head for the last two days.

What lifts this film above similar musicals is that it's also very, very funny. A comedy-musical, if you will. Well, that's what it really is, but that wouldn't have worked well with the straight-up musicals I'd compared it to before. Why let technicalities get in the way of a good opening paragraph?? And aren't most musicals, umm, kind of funny anyway??...anyone? Ah, well. Cry-Baby is a parody of, say, Grease or Jailhouse Rock, and in my opinion it's better for it. Sure, it's brash, vulgar and trashy, but in a good way. It's never mean-spirited, and the talented supporting cast make sure it's not just 'A Johnny Depp Film'. Iggy Pop is hilarious in as Cry-Baby's step-grandad (back when he was more hanging-with-Bowie, Lust For Life than getting his sinewy old biceps in a flap about car insurance). Everyone looks like they're having a great time and while it may not be Oscar-bait, the energy and music are totally infectious. It's a bit of a cop out to say "it's not for everyone"...but then again, what is?? I'd rather watch this than prop my eyelids open with matchsticks watching something 'highbrow'. The dialogue is peppy and sharply written, with lots of wry throwaway jokes providing the best laughs.

Sure, it's not the most original story- boy and girl fall for each other despite social etiquette dictating otherwise. They have to struggle to be together. Etc. Etc. We've seen it a million times. There are so many elements to Cry-Baby that make sure we want to keep watching regardless- the outrageous visuals, snappy tongue-in-cheek dialogue, a cast of lovable misfits and a fantastic soundtrack. It just goes to show the difference good writing can make to a tired old format, and crucially, that's what makes this film so special. It may be grotesque, it may be over the top and, yeah, there's alot of singing. Then again, isn't this true of ALL musicals?? I'd highly recommend this film to anyone, despite the connotations attached to the genre. If only I looked that cool in a leather jacket....

Thursday 21 January 2010

Me and RDJ, We Love Our Hats

Isn't it great when you have an unexpected few hours off, when you have absolutely nothing to do? I don't get them very often, but yesterday we had a class on reality TV (again, very sorry for being late...) and finished at 11 o'clock. I was secretly relieved at not having a viewing; as thoughts of old episodes of Big Brother came to mind. It was interesting though, to see the roots of reality TV and how different it was in its inception... Unsolved Mysteries came across as a sort of parnaormal Crimewatch and featured a well-known presenter. The Americans couldn't get enough of their true-crime shows, with America's Most Wanted closely following. Again, the appeal here was a presenter whose young son vanished whilst on a family outing- never to be seen again. The true-life tragedy added an emotional realism to the presenter that gives creidiblity in the eyes of the viewers- they feel like it's more genuine because the presenter's life has been affected by violent crime and bereavement. For modern viewers, to whom reality TV equals desperate wannabes screeching their way onto our tellybox for a cheap shot at 'fame' and Heat column inches, it was strange to see how they were perceived when they first aired.
We tend to forget that even when Big Brother started, it was a huge social experiment, unlike anything which had been on TV before. I still remember being about 13, and seeing billboards literally EVERYWHERE with the giant eye logo. I even remember quite liking the theme song. Now, however, I cringe whenever I hear it; there's something about this kind of TV that just sets my teeth on edge. I only like X Factor et al during the auditions phase (or as my dad calls it, 'the freaks and geeks round'). It's inescapable though, and for most reality TV shows I could tell you who was in, who was out and who was getting it on- without even glimpsing at an episode. Even my mum watched the full series of X Factor despite hating it, just to know what everyone else was talking about in work the next day.


ANYWAY, I'm veering off track slightly. After an interesting hour or so of reality TV, we finished nice and early, in time to catch a showing of....dun dun DUUUNNNN!...Sherlock Holmes! I'd been waiting since its release to see this film- in fact, I wanted to see it at least three times- but every time I tried I was thwarted- or skint. I jumped at the chance to finally see it, along with Julia and Flick (who was seeing it for the...fourth time? Jealous!). I'd even put the fact it was a Guy Ritchie movie to the back of my mind, as the appearance of Robert Downey Jr more than compensated for that. And BOY, am I glad I did! In fact, the only scene which reeks of Ritchie is Holmes' bare knuckle boxing fight in the local fleapits, but even this is choregraphed to devastating effect.

Maybe I'm being a bit harsh on ol' Ritchie- after all, I did quite like Lock Stock. And anyone who can tolerate being in the same room as Madonna deserves a frickin' medal. With this latest feature, he even made me warm to- I kid you not- Jude Law. His performance is something of a revelation; invoking sympathy as he gets dragged along apologising for Holmes' every gaffe, and putting in a charming, witty and vivacious performance as the 'straight man'. Robert Downey Jr, on the other hand, puts in a rollicking, powerhouse performance as Holmes. It's hard to believe that just a few years ago, his name was synonymous with wasted (literally) talent- now he's an ass-kicking action star? An unusual choice for Holmes, yes- but it's part of the appeal. I'd seen an adaptation of The Hound of the Baskervilles with Richard Roxburgh (the evil duke from Moulin Rouge) on TV a few years ago- it was good, and I really enjoyed it, but there wasn't any variation on the usual Holmes/Watson set-up. Here, however, the relationship is lively and engaging; their incessant bickering only proving how much they actually care for each other, deep down.

This is where Ritchie throws in two unneccessary female characters into the mix- to prove that Holmes and Watson are DEFINITELY NOT GAY, MIDDLE-AMERICA. Watson's fiancee Mary is nice enough but she brings nothing to the mix- simpering through meeting Holmes for the first time, the only interesting thing here is watching Watson's reaction. Rachel McAdams, as Holmes' enignatic former flame Irene Adler, is fine, but her role could have been so much more interesting. Their mysterious past relationship could have been prime material for juicy storytelling; instead she is merely a 'love interest' and a means to introduce Holmes' arch-villain Moriarty. Shame, really.

The story, too, was a bit flimsy. Our duo, after the execution of despicable villain Lord Blackwood, are in a state of flux. Holmes hasn't taken on a case for months, Watson is moving out to another premises, when suddenly strange happenings lead them to believe he may not be as dead as they thought. All in all.... it's kind of...dare I say it....dull?? I think the film works best as a 'buddy movie', and is complicated by too many half-baked subplots. It also seemed like the whole thing was a lead-in to a sequel- we were never really going to see the shadowy figure of Moriarty; why should we, when there are so many Holmes stories to spin out into further movies? That aside, the film's climax atop a half-built Tower Bridge was thrilling- one shot where Irene nearly lurches over the edge nearly caused my breakfast to do the same. The action, when it arrives, is a popping powder-keg of excitement, and chases through the mysterious backstreets of Old London is enticing, seductive and dangerous.

One thing I absolutely loved about this film was its style. Victorian London is re-imagined as dark, mucky, richly gothic and even kind of sexy...! Every alleyway leads somewhere the audience and characters know shouldn't be ventured into... but we know they're going to, anyway. The whole film reeks of atmosphere. I love the characters' style too; the Victorian-dandy-steampunk look adds a modern twist to the usually stale and stuffy period drama costume. Adler's dresses too, are sumptuous and extravagant (because she's American and therefore exotic) and her strange pirate get-up at the end is perfect for swinging from Tower Bridge whilst retaining a steely charm. Plus, as the name of this bloggy-blog may suggest, Holmes even has a bowler hat similar to mine. AWESOME. I'm going to wear it all the time from now on, as RDJ's seal of approval far outweighs any mocking from certain corners about mines being a 'Michael Jackson hat'. Who knows, by the time the sequal rolls around, I may even be strolling about with a cane...

Monday 18 January 2010

Kiri Kiri Kiri.....

I remember the first horror film I ever saw. I was about 7, and at a friend's sleepover, and put on a film called Parents. I don't remember too much about it, except the plot- a young boy questions what's really in the mystery meat his parents serve up for dinner- and I haven't seen it since. I do remember there being something strangely alluring about the feeling of tension, and of feeling scared- but in a good way. The sense of dread, and the unknown, was at once exciting and nerve-wracking and from then on, it became a sort of obsession.

I remember watching The Exorcist the first time it was shown on British TV. I failed to see what all the fuss was about- to me, it looked dated and the special effects seemed crude compared to what I was used to. I remember sneaking into the pictures aged 12 to see The Sixth Sense and The Blair Witch Project. The latter had been the subject of much media hype over its validity (for a brief time I did actually think it was real) and I remember being really creeped out by what wasn't there- the suggestion of something untoward was alot more frightening than an obvious stalk-and-slash killer or some lame-ass CGI monster.
Still, I always found that the majority of American horror films were more about the gore than being genuinely frightening. They were designed to appeal to teenagers looking for a cheap and easy sick thrill. Sooooo, as I learned more about film- and foreign cinema- I began to love films like The Devil's Backbone and the Tartan Asia Extreme series. Of these, one in particular stood out for me- Takashi Miike's 1999 blood splattered...erm... romantic comedy (yes, really), Audition.

Recommended by a former uni lecturer who was somewhat of an expert in Japanese cinema, I trotted along to the library, picked it up and settled down to watch. For the first time I couldn't watch a horror film right until the end- but I was completely transfixed. In the last few years I've tried to track it down every time I had gift vouchers or was perusing through world cinema sections in shops... but, frustratingly, it was always either sold out or not in stock at all. Thankfully, I found it on the off-chance when I was spending my Christmas voucher for FOPP- for a bargain £6!!! Score! I saw it as fate, and snapped up the last copy before any of the other geeks in the foreign film section got an eyeful. The Boy is also an avid gore fan, and I'd brought up this film more than a little emphatically on several occasions. Since I was going to visit him that night I took it with me, and wondered how I'd fare second time around.

The story opens on a middle aged man, Aoyama, visiting his dying wife Ryoko in hospital. His young son arrives just as she has passed away. Seven years on, and Aoyama is still alone. Encouraged by his now-teenage son, he decides the time is right to start looking for a new partner. The best way to go about this, apparently, is by holding a fake film audition. He becomes enamoured by one girl, the virginal and balletic Asami. His friend and fellow auditioner thinks there's something strange about her, but Aoyama sets about trying to woo her via phone calls and dinner dates. So far, so romantic comedy. For the first hour or so, you actually forget what you're watching- it jogs along at a gentle pace with a sweetly blossoming romance and a few chuckles along the way. There's even a parallel burgeoning romance between Aoyama's teenage son and his school sweetheart thrown in for good measure.

So there you are, sitting quite the thing watching a nice wee love story play out. Our hero seems cheerier, his worn-out pallor replaced by a sense of rejuvenation and the first flushes of romance. We see him dial Asami's number, then cut to the interior of her flat. She is sitting on the squalid, bare floor, huddled, with the phone lying in the middle of the room. A large, lumpy canvas sack is lying there too. The phone buzzes into life and at that moment, the canvas sack jerks violently. Asami flashes a chilling smile and from then on the film begins a dizzying downward spin. There IS something strange about this girl- but something far more horrible than we can imagine. She and Aoyama then go on a weekend retreat together, but in the morning he wakes up alone. When he decides to start delving deeper into the enigmatic Asami's murky past he finds out deeply troubling, gruesome discoveries about her (something he should have maybe looked into before taking her on a second date but hey, it ain't my movie...)
It's difficult to summarise the final act of the film without giving away too much of what happens: it really should be seen to be believed. The problem is, since watching the film the first time, I have since watched Oldboy and Lady Vengeance among others; films which are far more violent and gory than Audition. However, the beauty of this film is in its subtlety- unusual for a director with an average workrate of three movies a year. It unfolds almost painstakingly slowly and nothing is given away easily. Even while reading more about it online, I found loads of different reviews suggesting meanings and subtexts I hadn't even picked up on. Most of the violence is on screen but not made blatant- we get a flash of it, then see the end result, but it's not the same as, say, Vincent Cassell smashing in a rapist's skull with a fire extinguisher in Irreversible. And that wasn't even a horror...

Despite how it may appear, there is a strong moral core to the film. The final act becomes Asami's story; a lost, lonely child, subjected to abandonment and horrific cruelty, grows up to exact her own form of revenge. Our situations are the creation of our own actions and entrapments, and Miike shows us this the consequences in the most inhumane way. The morality and feminist-revenge-drama angles may not be what the film is remembered for- indeed, it only really occurred to me whilst watching it a few days ago. Once I'd gotten past the gore, had an idea of what was coming and concentrated on the story.

The problem is, any message the film is trying to sell is going to be overshadowed by the gut-churning violence. I'm not especially squeamish about blood- it doesn't bother me since Scream revealed that it's mostly corn syrup and food dye. What really gets me, however, is anything to do with bones breaking or being crushed... and this film almost had me reaching for the sick bucket. It achieves all this whilst looking utterly beautiful-each scene is set up perfectly, from the clinical starkness of Ryoko's deathbed to the lurid neon lights of Asami's old neighbourhood, via her dark, bare apartment pulsating with unknown terror. The acting too is top notch- I was thoroughly scared of Asami and her innate creepiness, and felt genuinely sorry for her prospective Romeo as he finally braved another shot at companionship. It's frustrating because alot of the shock value is in seeing it for the first time, without knowing what's going to happen. As such there's not much you can say about the ending without a huge **SPOILER ALERT!** at the top of the review. This is not a film for the faint of heart, but it is one for anyone looking for a stylish, intelligent, psychological thriller with some real scares thrown in. Well crafted, brilliantly plotted and painstakingly paced, it's an example in film making... Just keep the lights on and remember it's only a movie.

Wednesday 13 January 2010

We're Ba-aaaack!

The first week back is usually the worst. After three weeks of delicious lie-ins and generally not doing very much at all (on my days off, that is), the prospect of hauling my sorry self out of bed at 7am sounded as enticing as going on Blind Date and winning a wet weekend in Margate with Peter Tobin. Praise be then, that our first class of the shiny new term wasn't until 2pm on Monday- perfect, especially since a successful decorating stint at work the previous night had led to a few celebratory, umm, sherries.

Term commenced in our home from home, the delectable AGOS 9. We had a nice little introduction into the history of cinema.- which I have studied before and therefore is the one class I don't feel the need to scribble furious notes down verbatim. So, a gentle introduction to the new term considering we were only in for an hour or so! I did feel particularly guilty so that night I went home and tried to remember everything I'd watched during my sloth-like Christmas period.

Next day was one I was looking forward to, but not... It was our first day of lighting with Ray. I found camera class the most challenging last term, it didn't click as quickly for me as it did the others. Mostly because early in the term I was hefty feart of the camera and couldn't trust myself to pick it up. I'd made a resolution that I was going to be more forward with techy classes; a decision I came to regret when having to cart a monitor and lighting stands up to the second floor.

Still, it paid off and as well as fairly impressive biceps (HA!) I also got a chance to put a camera on the tripod AND attach, detach and re-attach a lamp. I think now that the focus isn't primarily on camera it'll seem less of a Huge Scary Thing, and it'll become like second nature before long. I hope. Yes... We had to connect the camera and monitor and see what a shot looked like with lighting behind it. Chris and I had to sit in the dreaded hot seat to see how our mugs looked when we were all lit up proper. I liked adding another element to what we've already learned and even just sitting in a chair with the lamps on looked much more 'professional' (for lack of a better word)... like a 'real' shot, rather than just pointing the camera at something.

Wednesday meant yet another shiny new room, the board room- terribly exciting stuff! Honestly, after pretty much a full term in AGOS 9 any other room is like a holiday. The class was on authorship in television. We'd been prepped beforehand that it'd be quite dry and statistic-y and dull but, in the end, I actually found it really interesting.
(BY THE WAY- d'ya know the effort I went to, to get this picture? Google toolbar autofill kept throwing up images of The Streets and Mike Skinner's greasy mug. So, take in Matt Smith and his handsome face. Enjoy it).

We were discussing who really creates television- the writers? Producers? Directors? With film, I think, it's more of a director's medium. Or at least, we assume it is. Film and television are both collaborative efforts- there's no way anyone could make an entire film or TV series entirely by themselves. Or if they did, it'd be quite a feat- and probably a really, really boring one. Television seems to be more variable with regards to authorship- we learned that in its formative years it was largely producer-driven, but during the 1960s the industry expanded and a (relatively) young generation of new writers and directors flooded in, fresh from university. It's useful for us, a class of uni students aspiring to work in the industry. In saying that, we're alot better off even than this generation, so when we graduate we'll be even better placed to move into working in film and TV. Always reassuring!

In the second half of the lesson, we watched an episode of The Street. I'd never watched it before; I actually thought it was some sort of reality show- like The Family, that kind of thing. HOW WRONG WAS I?? After about five minutes, I was completely absorbed. It was fairly realistic in style, and made it feel like we were in the room with the characters. As each episode deals with a different family, I didn't feel like we were missing out or had anything to catch up on. The performances were phenomenal too- even though most of the actors were recognisable faces it never felt like we were watching 'the new Doctor' or 'him out Harry Potter'. Every character was totally believable and I really empathised with them as they agonised to make the right decision. I won't revel too much, but it's gripping stuff- it made me want to watch every other episode, despite them not being related at all to the one we saw.

One thing which particularly interested me was the different ways in which a show can be authored. Of these, I quite fancied the idea of being a show runner... getting all the credit for coming up with an idea, and maybe writing a few episodes? I can but dream, eh... Definitely sounds alot more appealing than fighting for attention to get even a single joke included in a writer's room full of men...


Thursday was a write-off for us as our one class with Adam was cancelled. I vowed to get hasty with my scriptwriting for Richard, and catch up on some serious blogging. BUUUUT then I got a bundle of Christmas money I'd put aside for a free day and went on a much needed shopping spree. I know, I know, it's hardly an excuse for blowing off work time, but I haven't been clothes shopping in over a year, so it was TOTALLY justified. I bought a couple of DVDs too, so really it was research.....*ahem* I WILL write a blog about the films I bought, but as yet I've only watched one of them (Takashi Miike's Audition)...and it was quite traumatising. I've seen it before, but it was about 4 years ago and I couldn't bring myself to watch the end of it then. I did have a conversation about it with the girl who served me in FOPP though, so that counts. Kind of. If me foaming at the mouth about how good it is counts as serious film discussion.... I'm a bit of a geek when it comes to horror films- for me Spanish and Asian horrors are the best in recent years because they're actually scary, and not just an excuse for frustratingly stupid American bimbos to run around in little t-shirts and scream.

For our first screening of the new term, we were... treated... to a different kind of foreign film- the black and white 1925 Russian film Battleship Potemkin. I've seen it before...partly. I think we were shown it at uni and somehow I, umm, lost consciousness about halfway in. Oops! Thankfully I didn't this time, and made it through the whole film. And oh my, was it dull. It seemed to me the whole thing was about a revolution on the basis of some sailor dudes not liking their dinner. Hmm, thrilling. The most amusing part was a man with no legs making it down the stairs faster than everyone else, and a brief flash of colour when a red flag was raised on ship. It was grey again by the next scene. Oh, well. Andy had explained beforehand how the Russians were masters of editing in the early days though, and the film was surprisingly fast paced for one of its time. Clearly alot of work had gone into it, although I found myself watching for cuts instead of watching it as I would any other film.

After class, I went to meet my friend Iain who I used to go to the pictures with pretty much aaaaall the time. Our original plan was Book of Eli but it wasn't on for another 2 hours so we opted for Daybreakers instead. It sounded so promising- vampires have taken over 95% of the population, and the remainder of humans are being farmed for blood. However, their world is being threatened by global blood shoartages and it's up to haematologist Edward Dalton (Ethan Hawke) to find a substitute. He's one of these new 'sympathetic' vampires who refuses to drink human blood, although his substitute trials are dangerously unstable. He meets a group of rebel humans led by Willem Defoe, and discovers there's actually a cure for vampirism. I didn't actually know anything about the film beforehand, but it was a huge letdown. The first 15 minutes were promising until the appearance of Ethan's brother, who stank up the screen in a performance so wooden he should have been Ronsealed. Willem Defoe was criminally underused, aside from a few killer one-liners, and nothing happened with the female human character. I imagine she was brought in as a supposed love interest, but there was nothing between her and Edward and really, there was no need for her at all. A bit like Cameron Diaz in Gangs of New York; the writers probably thought they had to shoehorn in a female role despite there being absolutely no need for one. Also, a few things about the main character... a vampire called Edward? Who doesn't drink human blood? I'm sure I've read and watched this somewhere before....! Vampires, particularly teen-orientated ones, have taken over cinema and TV in the last year or so, and it's getting more than a little bit boring. Roll on, The Wolfman!


Aaaannnyway, that brings us right up to date for week one. I finally used my Cineworld card, although next time I'll check movie times beforehand and pick something more worthy of my £13.50. I learned how to put a lamp onto a stand (this is a huge deal for me, believe me). I bought a DVD I've been desperate to own for ages, and another one I've always wanted to see. I discovered a new TV programme to get stuck into, as I'm currently suffering from X-Files Overload. Honestly, I'm one episode away from running about Buchanan Street in a trenchcoat asking people what they know about the truth....

Tuesday 12 January 2010

Not A Doctor Who Reference In Sight

When I first pondered about what I'd watched over Christmas, I was kind of ashamed. Months of bitching about being too skint to go to the pictures finally paid off, and I got my unlimited Cineworld pass in the mail a week or so ago. Excitedly, and more than a little proudly, I put it in my purse vowing to make 2010 my Year of Cinema. Sadly, this clashed with my other plan to work as much as possible over the holidays, and said card is still dwindling in my purse, unused. STILL... the more I thought about it, I actually watched alot more than I thought- and even briefly flirted with BBC iPlayer, something I'd never used before.

Alot of the stuff I'd watched at the start of the holidays was downloads on the laptop (I didn't download them... honest..!). I think because of this it didn't really feel like I'd sat down properly to watch a movie- I'd just set up the laptop in front of me and opened Windows Media. Not quite the same, really... Probably why I'd never bothered to watch anything on iPlayer or 40D before- it's not the same experience, although it is handy for programmes I've maybe started watching in the middle of a series.
The Boy was taking full advantage of unlimited downloads over the holidays and as a result there was a plethora of movies at my disposal- ones I'd maybe sort of thought about seeing, but not been fussed enough to want to spend the money. First, I caught up with the latest installment of gut-wrenching horror porn and tuned into Saw 6.



Yeeessss, the franchise has been wrung out for every penny it's worth, but it's twisty and turny enough to make it seem pseudo-intellectual. Truth is, the endless plot twists and shovel-loads of new characters make it a bit of a headache, but the directors always include a "Previously On..." in the build up to the climax. I lost the plot somewhere between the 4th and 5th films but this latest installment was actually quite good- it tied together alot of the backstory of Jigsaw and the 'big reveals' weren't signposted along the way. I really love the first Saw film, and it probably should have been killed off after that. Still, they're gonna keep making money therefore they'll keep getting made- and this isn't the worst one of the lot.

I also FINALLY saw District 9, after hearing sooo much about it. I found it very, very strange, but fantastic- alot of it stayed with me long after the film had finished. Its allegorical anti-apartheid message is heavy handed but not in a soapbox way. Everything about the film is played down, whether it's the astonishingly accomplished effects, documentary-style or leading man Wikus's entirely improvised dialogue. There's not a huge amount of originality with the components of the film and the supporting characters aren't given alot to play with- alien protagonist 'Christopher Johnson' is given a bigger role despite his language being restricted to clicks and whistles. Bizarre, thought-provoking, stylish (in a grimy sort of way) and thoroughly recommended!

I also watched Planet 51 (yeeeees, I know it's a kid's film). Bizarrely, it was kind of similar to District 9- a human crashes on an alien planet, only to discover that- dun dun DUUUNNN!- HE'S the alien!! OMG. Not bad, pretty amusing...but the problem with most CGI kid's films is that Pixar have perfected the medium so much that anything else is going to look half-baked in comparison. Thanks to them we've come to expect nothing less than cinematic perfection, and other studios just can't seem to compete- not even Shrek had the same charm as Nemo or Wall-E!

Zombieland and 2012 followed soon after. I generally don't like big budget shouty explosion-y action films. I even fell asleep during The Day After Tomorrow. 2012 was no different- I didn't even see the end. Woody Harrelson's turn as a conspiracy-obsessed pirate DJ was hilarious though, as was his turn as zombie-killer extrordinaire in Zombieland. The latter was a gun toting redneck who loves big cars, teamed up with nerdy, neurotic Jewfro'd Jesse Eisenberg to drive cross-country to find family. I've got so much more to write about this film as I really enjoyed it- it shall feature in a later blog once I've read more of Max Brooks' opinions on the subject.

I ran out of steam thinking of DVDs for Christmas this year and so film-wise all I got was Inglourious Basterds, Batman Begins and Public Enemies- the latter two I'd seen before so I knew what I was getting. In fact, I got Public Enemies before Christmas because I was flu-ish and bemoaning my lack of new films to watch. In any case, any serious sit-down-and-concentrate watching of these movies was eclipsed by one present in particular.............

..............THE COMPLETE X-FILES BOX SET!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh yes, that's every episode of all 9 seasons, plus the first movie. (OH! I watched the second film over the holidays too. It was shite. Long and drawn out, not even a good filler-episode plot and the 'psychic' paedophile priest wasn't even that great a psychic). I'd already watched the first two, and have just finished the third. I just missed out on the X-Files phenomenon when I was younger- it was a bit too grown up for me, and that little bit too late in the TV schedules. In the last year I've rediscovered it and am completely obsessed. It's smart, intriguing, engaging, the lurching story arc keeps you hooked throughout the mire of filler episodes and it's sharply written. I've also become about 78% more paranoid since beginning my X-Files quest began, and 100% more in love with Fox Mulder. I even bought his "I Want To Believe" poster for The Boy for Christmas. And then was sad that I didn't have it. Ah, well!

Hmm... What else... aaahh! I watched every episode of Dead Set on DVD and Being Human on the BBC iPlayer. Dead Set was good; a satirical swipe at reality TV based in the Big Brother house itself, and featuring a zombified Davina McCall. "Thank God!", thought I, "maybe now we'll be spared her SHOUTING=GOOD style of presenting". The characters were convincing in that they were really, really, really irritating and I wanted to see them all evicted/de-brained... I was impressed by the effects and how much the makers managed to get away with, considering BB was a huge part of Channel 4/ E4's scheduling.

Over on the Beeb, I followed up on the pilot of Being Human we'd watched in Adam's class by watching every other episode over 2 days. And then the first episode of series 2 last night. It's a different class of supernatural comedy than Dead Set- it doesn't take itself quite so seriously, it's not as gritty but it still deals with similar themes- survival, relationships, the undead... I prefer it because it's a running series, whereas Dead Set is only 5 episodes long. Although I did get kind of bored halfway through Dead Set and couldn't remember which episode we were watching... It all got a bit samey.

Hmm... OK, so maybe I watched alot more than I thought I had. I can think of more already but I think I'm starting to run out of room. And steam. SO, I shall wrap it up here and go do some more work on my script for Richard... dramatic sigh! If only I'd blogged more over the holidays...