Soapy Bubbles...

For Kim's class on content for soaps, we've had to come up with a character for Coronation Street and write a storyline to integrate them into the Street. Not being much of a soap fan, I've found this alot more difficult than I first imagined... There are so many things to consider! For instance, you can't just have a character drop in the middle of the street- they have to have some kind of connection, and you have to think of ways in which they can interact with existing characters. You have to make the audience care for this new outsider, otherwise what's the point in them being there in the first place?

Coming up with an original character was the most difficult part, for me- like I said, I didn't regularly watch Corrie so I wasn't really overly clued in about who was already there. Originally I'd written my character for Hollyoaks, although that show already seems overprescribed with ludicrous characters, it'd have made it even more difficult for them to stand out. Also, I had no idea how much pre-planning you have to put into a character- you have to give them coherent back stories and validate them being there in the first place. When we had to write our ideas for how the character could progress, it was supposed to be for 6 months worth of storylines- in the end up, Kim told us ours would only have stretched to a few weeks at the most!
This was my character...

"Jackie Morgan is 32 years old, and recently moved to Weatherfield from London. She had been a CID working undercover on a drugs and prostitution ring; she found herself becoming dangerously immersed when she began an affair with a female suspect. The case was exposed, as was the affair, leading to Jackie being suspended".

We made her half-sister of Kelly, an already existing and popular character in Coronation Street, as an easy way to tie our character in. The problem is, once you get the ball rolling there's so much you can write about certain characters, but you always have to consider how it's going to affect other characters too. After having written our ideas for the character's 'journey', we then had to write a week's worth of episodes, taking one day each. As our group hadn't met in person to discuss our stuff for the previous exercise, we decided it's make our story flow alot more smoothly if we sat down together and planned out day-by-day what was going to happen, and how each episode would leave off fron the last. We also had to include 'hooks' at the end of each episode, to make sure there was something to make the viewer keep watching. We decided, after settling down over some mini yum-yums, that our week of episodes would take place after our character, Jackie, had already been introduced to the street. It would've been kind of a non-started if we'd started from the beginning, as all she'd have been doing would be introducing herself- not very juicy or exciting, huh? So, we based our week of soapy drama on our character, Jackie, making a drunken move on her boss Carla... with not so sexy results. I got lumbered with mid-week post-action Thursday, so here's the best of what I could do with it....!

"JACKIE and CARLA are in Kelly’s flat, where Jackie has been staying until her new flat is ready. They have been sharing an evening together; they are both lonely women looking for companionship and have formed a close bond in the brief time Jackie has been on the Street.
After a few glasses of wine too many, the two collapsed on the sofa together where they shared a brief drunken kiss. Jackie has not yet outed herself to others on the Street, and Carla especially is surprised. She had simply tried to reach out to someone new, unaware that Jackie read further into their blossoming friendship that was intended. Carla has pulled back from the kiss, stunned and taken aback, while Jackie is embarrassed and doesn’t know what to do or say. Carla moves away from Jackie on the sofa, head spinning, and says she should go. Jackie insists she stay, and apologises profusely, saying she didn’t know what came over her and was simply caught up in the moment.
Unfortunately for the two, they didn’t notice someone else nearby. KELLY had been out for a few drinks with some other girls from the factory, celebrating their early finish, when she decided to pop home to get some money. She was suspicious after seeing Carla and Jackie making their way home giggling and friendly, but genuinely didn’t think anything of it. She had snuck in silently, and saw them in the passing before she could announce her presence. She recoils, having been unaware of her sister’s sexuality, and also surprised at Carla since her torrid love-life is well known on the Street.
Kelly’s head spins as she flees the flat, not knowing what to make of what she’s just seen. Is there something going on between Jackie and Carla? How did she not know her own sister was a lesbian? She is still irked by her argument with Jackie that morning, and feels her sister constantly looks down her nose at her for their divided interests on both sides of the law. She makes her way back to the Rovers, trying to figure out whether or not to tell everyone what she has seen. On her way out, she steps on a creaking floorboard, which Jackie hears but brushes off.
Meanwhile, back in the flat, tensions are easing between a confused Carla and a mortified Jackie. Carla paces, telling Jackie she’s never kissed another woman before, she doesn’t know what came over her, it was a drunken mistake... She wonders whether Jackie feels it was a mistake too, although can’t shake a niggling feeling that maybe she’s reading more into the friendship than is letting on. Cautiously, she broaches the question of whether or not this is a first time for Jackie too.
Jackie is apprehensive and almost repentant as she admits that this isn’t a first time for her. With her head in her hands, she confesses to Carla that she is gay. Carla is aghast and furious; she feels Jackie has lured her here for purposes other than friendship, and gotten her drunk, and tells her so. Jackie is stunned and says this isn’t the case but yes, she is attracted to Carla and may have mistaken their friendship for something more. Carla asks Jackie who else she’s ‘turned’ for her own progression. Jackie is close to tears, she can’t believe things have taken such a dramatically bad turn so quickly.
Across the road, KELLY has rejoined JANICE, FIZZ and HAYLEY in the Rovers. She is visibly shaken and they ask what’s wrong. Kelly tries to brush them off; she still hasn’t really digested what she’s just seen but she’s also formulating a plan. Janice questions her about Jackie, asking why she hasn’t been mentioned before. Kelly says that they were never close growing up, and their respective involvement with the law drove an even bigger wedge between them until eventually they lost contact. She says Jackie’s always felt she was better than her sister, and is always treating her like a child. Living in such close proximity means tensions are running high in the flat and working together means they have no way of escaping one another. When the girls ponder over the reasons why Carla let them finish early that day, Kelly smirks to herself and makes a loaded comment about being easily persuaded.
Things aren’t going so well back over in the flat, however. Carla feels like she has been used, and that Jackie has taken advantage of her being drunk. Voices and tempers are being raised, and Carla shouts that Jackie tried to use “a drunken mistake” as a means of getting her into bed. Jackie is on the verge of tears- she genuinely never meant for this to happen- not consciously anyway. All she wanted was to fit in and make friends and it’s taken a much worse turn than she had envisioned. She desperately tries to explain that while yes, she is gay, she didn’t hide her sexuality to try and wine and dine Carla into bed. Carla tells Jackie that she could had had a promising head start at the factory, and reveals how she was considering making her assistant manager as opposed to supervisor, but she can forget it- Carla accuses her of “sleeping her way to the top”, or at least trying to. Jackie is no longer as upset, now merely angry, and tells Carla it’s not fair to use her job against her and if this is how she reacts to everyone’s little misdemeanours, it’s no wonder she has no other friends. Carla is hurt and appalled, gathers her things and storms out, whilst Jackie collapses on the sofa, exhausted, shame-faced and deeply upset.
On her way out, Carla bypasses Kelly on the Street, on her way home after closing time, She says a pointed “hello”, but Carla glares and storms on. Kelly smirks, making her way up to the flat and innocently asks Jackie how the evening went. Jackie, somewhat more composed, (or trying to act it), lies that it went well. Kelly is gently goading her sister, asking seemingly innocent yet loaded questions she knows will throw her off. Kelly sits on the sofa, helping herself to a glass of wine, and asks one last time if anything ‘interesting’ happened. Jackie tells her no, but is slowly getting the feeling there’s more to her question than meets the eye. Kelly asks why she just saw Carla leaving in such a rage, and Jackie falters. She fluffs with some story about staff getting time off for an upcoming public holiday, but she feels Kelly isn’t convinced. Kelly asks if she’s sure it wasn’t a ‘lover’s tiff’ and Jackie reels, horrified, that she has been found out."

I don't think they'll be falling over themselves down Weatherfield way to sign me up anyway!

I Hate When I'm Less Than Right....

Since jumping aboard the good ship DFTV last September, I've come to change my mind about alot of things. Like, not all musicals make me want to gouge my eyes out. Soap writing actually involves a great deal of skill and is not the herpes of television I thought it was. AND I actually enjoy silent films. There's one thing, however, I never thought I'd change my mind about. I thought certain beliefs were unshakable, a universal truth akin to winter being cold and dogs not being able to look up. But yesterday, I was proven wrong when I watched a film.... that Matthew McConnaughey was actually good in.
I KNOW, RIGHT???!!!?!!? I was shocked too. Not only that, but he was good in a film I've been told repeatedly is also good, and I 'must watch'... directed by Joel Schumacher, the man who destroyed the Batman franchise... and adapted from a John Grisham courtroom novel... (really, it's a wonder I managed to sit and watch this at all)... 1996's racially charged thriller, A Time to Kill.


The Ross had told me of how awesome this movie was after my observation that Matthew McConnaughey wasn't good in anything, ever. (I tried to find clips from Seth McFarlane's Cartoon Cavalcade and Family Guy to support this, but stupid FOX banned the videos due to some copyright infringement nonsense). Lack of DVD ownership and sloooooow download speeds... I mean, umm, slooooooow wait until the shops opened and I could buy it legally, and above board... led us to Youtube. After watching a trailer and a clip of the first five minutes, I was hooked. Unfortunately, apparently you can't get whole movies on Youtube- well, you can, but only in clips of 5-10 minutes. For a movie of 149 minutes, you'd imagine this would be kind of tedious. It wasn't, funnily enough- each scene ended on a hook, which made me want to line up the next one as soon as possible. Because, like I said before, I was proven very, very wrong by this movie.

It's a quiet, lazy summer day in Canton, Mississipi, and business as usual for the county's small, close-knit black community. Suddenly, two drooling, beer-guzzling rednecks roll into town, tearing up the local shop and generally being stupid and obnoxious. At the same time, 10-year-old Tanya Hailey is walking home from the shop with the groceries. The rednecks' van swings by, they burst out and she is subjected to a brutal and sickening ordeal of kidnap, rape and attempted hanging. Her father Carl Lee Hailey (Samuel L Jackson, before he was in everything) recalls a case in which four white men raped a young black girl a year before- and were acquitted. Bright eyed young attorney Jake Bergance (Matthew McConnaughey) can't help but concede, that this is in fact true. Desperate for vengeance, Carl Lee takes the law into his own hands and guns down the two rednecks at close range- in the county court house. Capital murder... In front of several witnesses....in a courthouse.... by an African-American in a racist, backwards, predominantly white community.... It's not looking terribly promising for poor Carl Lee. He is jailed, awaiting trial, with up and coming liberal hot-shot Bergance as his lawyer. Bergance has an ulterior motive, of sorts- he wants to prove a black man can receive a fair trial in the South. His relatively radical stance on the case infuriates the District Attorney (Kevin Spacey) and the dead boys' brother Freddie (Kiefer Sutherland), who summons up the local branch of the Ku Klux Klan. Jake becomes obsessed with the case, alienating his wife and young child and endangering the lives of everyone close to him: although the appearance of law student Roark (Sandra Bullock) lead him to believe he may not be as liberal as he thought.

I know, sounds heavy right? Given its themes of racism, social injustice and the justification of murder, it's certainly not an easy watch. Don't be put off though- this is an absolute belter of a movie. It touches on some hugely taboo topics, leaving us unsure where we should place our loyalties. Does Carl Lee deserve his punishment? In what circumstance can murder be justified? Can a white jury really be swayed into freeing a black man on trial for first-degree murder? Tense stuff indeed. At the same time, in the wrong hands, it could have turned into a made-for-TV sappy courtroom suckfest. Thankfully, although it may teeter close to the edge, it never does. Even when it does indulge in the odd moment of sentimentality, I was so caught up in it I was totally swept along.

The only niggle I have about this film is probably one of its big boasts. The embarrassment of talent on display means we don't get enough time with all of the supporting players. I'd liked to have seen more of Donald Sutherland's booze-soaked ex-attorney, while Kevin Spacey's role is sidelined to Token Boo-Hiss Suit Guy. Ultimately, it's police deputy Chris Cooper who throws the real spanner in the works of the jury. It's hard to say why without giving away the goods, but let's just say he has a hard time hobbling up to the stand when he's due to give evidence. And he should really have alot to say against the defendant.
It just goes to show how mistaken you can be, when you judge a book adaptation by its cover stars. This is stirring, controversial and deeply engaging movie, which questions the most basic of human morals without being heavy handed or telling us what to think. From the outset, it's an unwinnable case, destined to break up Bergance's family and leave his promising career in ruins.

The brutal nature of the original crime is so horrendous, and the film really makes you sympathise with both Jake and Carl Lee- for all their obvious differences, they're both family men with everything to lose. In the words of Jake's mentor, Lucien (Sutherland Sr):

"If you win this case, justice will prevail. If you lose this case, justice will prevail. Now that is a strange case"

This pretty much sums up the moral quandry at the heart of the film, and it was from this point that I was really hooked. It's a truly outstanding piece of cinema, which is far more complex and fraught than I've been able to convey. The final courtroom scene, where both sides make their closing arguments, is powerful and captivating, McConnaughey's final line delivering an emotional suckerpunch right to the hearts of the jury. You can find the closing argument, on its own, on Youtube. Don't do it though!! This film deserves to be watched.
In saying that, How To Lose A Guy in 10 Days is still one of the worst abominations I've ever been forced to watch. And Seth McFarlane still mostly right about Matthew McConnaughey,

Small Screen Summative Blog

I have to admit, before starting at the Academy my TV watching had fallen by the wayside quite a bit. I was never reeeaaally much of a TV-watcher, since I only had Freeview and Lord knows that's mostly just endless repeats. I'd maybe only put the telly on when I came in from work, as a flickering buzz in the corner of the room, that I could fall asleep to. The only thing I really watched was boxsets; I never missed an episode when I had it on DVD to peruse in my own time.
Still, I was eager to learn more about the 'box of lights and wires' in the corner of my room. Throughout the Small Screen module we covered pretty much every popular genre of television, from soaps to comedy to the omnipresent 'reality show'. We were introduced to a huge variety of shows like The Shield to The Street, neither of which I'd probably have watched of my own accord. I'd have probably written off The Shield as just another US crime show- not being a fan of CSI and its ilk, I wasn't especially stoked at the prospect but found it really enthralling. Simple things like the use of abrupt edits and unorthodox characters made it a far more interesting prospect- like Andy said, there's no 'goodies vs. baddies', this was 'baddies vs. worsies'... It made the characters less cliched and added another layer to the tired old cop show.

I also really enjoyed having to come up with our own game show... It was actually alot more difficult to come up with something fresh, considering the format has been around for as long as the medium. Just about every channel has its own form of game show, whether it be a 'Q&A' type show or newer comedy panel show. Ours became some sort of labyrinthine Alcatraz crossed with Funhouse...sounds bizarre, yeah, but just you wait... we wanted to use real prison wardens and everything. Now THAT'S realism...!

Despite the seemingly huge variety of genres (or formats) on TV, we learned that they can all be broken down to almost mathematical formula. The sitcom, we learned, was the 'king of formulas'. The template for which was laid down by Lucille Ball and the I Love Lucy show, which I'd heard of but never watched. After watching an episode I really couldn't see much difference between the gags and character types in the first episode (from 1951), and modern sitcoms like Two and a Half God Awful Men. It's interesting to see how much and how little a medium has progressed over the last 50/60 years, and learning the formulaic basis really makes it easier when it comes down to writing ideas of our own. As we found out, all the rules have been laid out for us- all we have to do is make it original. Nice and simple then....?!?!

Overall, then, I've come a long way from using my TV as a flashing, mumbling nightlight. Throughout the duration of the module I've learned about a broad spectrum of shows and genres I'd probably never have been exposed to otherwise. I found our potted history through the history of television to be alot more interesting than I'd have thought- and was impressed that after all this time it still possesses the ability to 'inform, educate and entertain'.

Reflections On A Non-Week

This week, for me, has been a total non-event, so this is probably the least in-depth reflective blog I'll ever write. On Monday, we had a day off for half term. Fair do's, I thought, I'd be nice and rested for the open day on Tuesday. Or I'd be nice and rested for the dentist, and then come into the open day talking like the Elephant Man. (I hadn't been to the dentist since before I started uni... and no, I don't mean the Academy... it's been a pretty long time so suffice to say I reeeeaally wasn't looking forward to it). Tuesday morning arrived, and so did a rather nauseous bout of flu. Sooooo, off home I went after having a filling re-filled, thankfully free of any resemblance to a circus freak. Tuesday and Wednesday passed in a blur of sleep and being barely awake long enough to watch a new DVD. So far, so terribly terribly dull. There was a sort of silver lining, I guess; having ridiculously overspent at a friend's birthday on Saturday- I won't mention how much because it'll make me boak and I don't want my mum to see- I didn't spend a penny. Yaaay.
Thursday featured my first foray into the Academy since last Friday, for my tutorial with Adam. All in all, it went pretty well, although my (initially) simple "what if...?" idea looks like it's gonna take a serious amount of research.. and work... I do like pitching ideas for TV though; I like how the medium is a platform for expanding on ideas and following up on them through several episodes, rather than trying to fit them into a more restrictive structure and time frame. Considering the trouble I've had with my short film ideas so far, TV seems to lend itself more to the kind of ideas I've been coming up with. Plus any excuse to read graphic novels and comics as 'research' is a good excuse... it's all in aid of furthering my potential future career, after all....!

Having missed the first class on the Development of Cinema, I wasn't sure what to expect with our screening of That's Entertainment... I surprised myself last week by actually enjoying Singing In The Rain though, so I wasn't dreading it too much. It was fascinating to see the epic scale on which the big MGM musicals were produced; money was no object where these movies were concerned and some of the lavish, hugely extravagant and meticulously choreographed pictures like An American in Paris were jaw-dropping in the number of extras alone! Being an MGM production, the film didn't reveal any of the hidden truths behind their features- such as the way in which the stars lives were dictated and controlled by the studio (the most famous and tragic example being Judy Garland, who in one sequence looked so doped up she'd forgotten how to blink). At some points, the all-singing, all-dancing affair got a bit too much to stomach, and I was praying for a single clip without tapping or someone bursting into song... Still, interesting considering our discussion last week, about how the invention of talking films affected cinema. Love 'em or loathe 'em, it'd be hard to imagine cinema without musicals- if this were the case, we'd have no Moulin Rouge! As the only film I have ever cried at in the cinema, we'd be losing a pretty huge milestone for me. Who knew I had such a fluffy interior, eh?

Our afternoon class was cancelled due to missed flights, so we decided to hop across the road, what with it being Friday and The Day of New Releases. It was a toss up between The Princess and the Frog and The Lovely Bones... we opted for the latter, although after 2 hours I couldn't help feeling like we'd made the wrong decision.
I like Peter Jackson's earlier movies like Heavenly Creatures, but to date have only seen the The Two Towers and bodyswerved King Kong- they just didn't appeal to me, LOTR looked like a massive yawn-fest and I didn't want to sit through three hours of bloated CGI just to see King Kong fight a dinosaur. But still, sneak peeks and interviews from The Lovely Bones looked tempting, and given the success of the LOTR, a fair few folk seem to think Jackson's nae too bad with the ol' adaptations.
The film is based on the novel of the same name by Alice Sebold; in which 14 year old Susie Salmon (played here by Saiorse Ronan, possibly the most Oirish name ever) is raped and murdered by her creepy loner neighbour George Harvey. She is caught halfway between heaven and earth, bound by her inability to move forwards. She watches helplessly as the grief causes her family to fall apart. There are some truly tragic moments; her happiness coupled with pain as she watches her sister kiss someone for the first time a brutal reminder that this is a joy her life cut short will never permit. She remains linked to her father somehow; his obsession with catching the killer driving away her mother and also hampering his own ability to move on. Marky Mark- sorry, Mark Wahlberg- is excellent as Susie's grieving dad, his anguish and helplessness written all over his face. (still, I can't help singing Good Vibrations in my head whenever I see him onscreen...) Susie's sister Lindsey is also brilliant, living the life her sister should have led as an honour roll student, dating boys and generally growing up. Neighbour George, played by Stanley Tucci, is creepy, lingering and unnerving... he fits the description of 'neighbourhood paedo' to the letter. In fact, the performances were great throughout the whole film- shame then, that they were let down by the film's other components.
The heaven sequences, supposed to look lush and dreamlike, were certainly imaginative- the sequence in which Marky Mark's ships in the bottle crash into giant rocks was a standout for me. Still, they looked far, faaaaar too computer generated. Fair play, the settings change almost with every step, and this would be nigh on impossible to recreate without the use of computer effects but still... Call me old fashioned, but I really do loathe movies which rely too heavily on this technique. After a while, they become really tedious stop-gaps, Susie herself becomes a bit of a floating character without much to do. The film crawled along at a snail's pace, but still managed to lurch uncomfortably between tones. For example, Susan Sarandon as the booze-soaked Grandma was a hoot, but seemed horribly out of place. She'd have been hilarious were she playing the part in a full-on comedy film, but here she fitted awkwardly- especially when she was suddenly transformed into dowdy, functioning family matriarch. It came out of nowhere and was really hard to swallow. Jackson also let himself down in the final act. When George's carefully protected lie starts to collapse on him, it seems to last an age. In one scene Lindsey sneaks into his house looking for proof of his guilt, when suddenly he returns home unexpectedly (as they all do...). She finds a sketchbook with elaborate details of the murder, as well as others, and makes a break for it. This could have been really exciting, but was juddered abruptly to a halt with the re-appearance of the long-lost Mrs Salmon. Lindsey seems to stop dead in her tracks and even hesitate before handing the book over to her Grandma, and by then George has been given the chance to make an escape. It all seems really anticlimatic, and makes you wonder what Susie's been hanging about for. Even the big heavenly 'reveal' isn't that much of a surprise.
To be fair, I didn't hate this movie- I haven't read the book, and so have nothing to compare it to. It was tense in places, and the prelude to the murder itself was fraught with anticipation. Yet, frustratingly, we don't actually see anything happen. A supposedly psychic girl is never fully explained, so we're left wondering why she feels a connection to the dead girl. It's a shame because this could have been a much more captivating film had it bothered to put more effort into its characters, and spent less time trying to dazzle us with special effects. Next time Mr Jackson releases his latest big-budget caper, I'll rent The Frighteners instead.

It's Pronounced MAY-reen

Don't you just love when a film you've been keen to see for ages, turns out to be every bit as good as you hope it'll be? It's been a rare occurrence lately- Paranormal Activity, Daybreakers, Death Note and a few others have turned out to be huge stinking letdowns, and quite frankly it's left me feeling more than a little bit scunnered. Praise be then, that this most depressing trend has been bucked by one film (well, two, really) I've been dying to see for MONTHS.... the sprawling French gangster epic, Mesrine.

Given that I profess to be such an avid fan of a) gangster films, b) foreign cinema and c) Vincent Cassell, I'm more than a little ashamed that I haven't seen Mesrine until now. I don't even know why I didn't see it in the cinema... Something along the lines of "Oooh, I've got no money", I'd imagine. Hence why I took the plunge and did something I never usually do- and bought it pretty much as soon as it was released. I know, I know, I'll regret paying the £15 when it's reduced in a month or so, but I just HAD to have it. And what a film it is....!
I've been waiting for the perfect opportunity to watch it, and what better than a sick day? Nothing else to divert my attention and the one time when I can feel truly justified in lying in my bed watching endless DVDs. I even managed to keep up with the subtitles, despite being up to my eyeballs in co-codamol. SCORE!

The life and crimes of infamous French gangster Jacques Mesrine is told across two films- Mesrine: Killer Instinct and Mesrine: Public Enemy Number One.
Right from the beginning, the film is a dizzying ride through Mesrine's anarchic, brutal (yet curiously cinematic) lifestyle. Killer Instinct opens with a split-screen sequence in which a slightly tubby, haggard looking Vincent Cassel driving through the streets of 1979 Paris with his girlfriend. Suddenly, they are ambushed by a hit squad who fall out the back of a lorry- and instantly we are transported back to 1959, to Mesrine's time in the military. His violent anarchic streak is first revealed here, when he executes an Algerian rebel after being ordered to kill said rebel's sister. Upon his return, he moves back with his parents, who try and set him up with a regular job- but he's more interested in hooking up with his old cronies, including mentor Guido (Gerard Depardieu).
He falls into his old life with ease; his charm and charisma mean he fits easily into the criminal underworld and is never short of pretty ladies fawning over him.

Both the crime thriller and the two-part biopic have been big successes in recent cinema history- comparisons to Public Enemies and Che are inevitable but Killer Instinct is more brutal, fun and engaging than these two. Unlike them, there is no in-depth backstory (short sequence in Algiers aside). There's nothing to explain why Mesrine is who he is, no tedious rags to riches empire-building, no slow burning character study- the film never slows down until Mesrine himself is in prison in Canada. Even then, we're waiting for him to make his daring escape and go back to his whirlwind of crime. It's a dizzying, enthralling cycle of bloody violence, crime sprees and prison sentences, with allies, lovers and even Mesrine's appearance changing from one sequence to the next. Even his children, whom he fathers with first wife Sofia and eventually leaves with his parents, are played by different actors each time we see them. The film rarely pauses for breath; much like with Public Enemies we are shown how intoxicating it can be to live outside the law. The frantic use of music to heighten tension is applied to maximum effect here- even over the title menu, it promises danger, excitement, and a delicious hint of what to expect.

Killer Instinct leaves off with later love Jeanne finishing her sentence and returning to France, while Mesrine is declared Public Enemy Number 1 in both Canada (where he is arrested, and later escapes). The second helping, also entitled Public Enemy No 1, sees Mesrine, physically heavier and visibly older looking, and being arrested once again. Cue a fantastic courtroom exit with a contraband weapon and a smuggled judge- honestly, the phrase "too outrageous to be true" was never truer than when applied to these films. He dashes through France with yet another new lithe and exciting Cecile. After amassing a small fortune, the pair go on a glamourous sex and spending spree, through Paris and London; Jacques brazenly driving in plain view through Paris declaring there not to be a cop in sight. Yes, truly the life of a gangster is a fast-paced and desirable one, full of flash clothes, flash cars and even flashier women.

Still, what goes up must come down, as the old adage goes. And it's a mighty crash for ol' Jacques; we see the aftermath of the threatened ambush at the start of Killer Instinct, so we know ultimately he doesn't get away clean. In a strange way though, we still kind of hope he does. And even though we do know, it's still an incredibly tense moment when the film comes full circle and we arrive at that fated red light in 1979. It's an explosive end to a life spent constantly on the edge, although there are some truly touching moments too- when Mesrine visits his dying father in hospital, knowing he can't come and see him again, it shows emotional depth to the character and provides a tender lull in the break-neck action.

Neither of the films portray him as a perfect character either; it's not all suave charm and killer charisma. Violent outbursts towards both his first wife, and later Cecile, show that he is an unpredictably violent character, one whose fatal flaw is his own ego, and the sense that he is above the law. It makes the character feel more rounded, rather than just a gun totin' flash Harry who is all style over substance. Vincent Cassel has never been better, and he's been no slouch so far. After La Haine, Irreversible and Eastern Promises showed excellent promise, real grit and integrity, the Mesrine saga showcases what a truly brilliant actor he is. How he isn't a bigger star is beyond me. (yeah, I know, I am biased slightly, but he's really awesome. If you don't believe me you'll just have to watch it). The supporting players are also outstanding: Gerard Depardieu is so immersed in his role he's unrecognisable, I had to double-check the credits when I saw who he played. Cecile de France as Killer Instinct counterpart Jeanne is the perfect partner as they tote across North America living the fast life and making money on the run. Brilliant, brutal, bold and beautiful- I actually can't recommend these films enough. It's a real shame so many people complain about reading subtitles- Mesrine easily outclasses English-language films of a similar genre, and it has way more fun in doing so. GET IT WATCHED.

Stuff What I Got Up To

I'd neglected to post a blog about our first shoot- a collaborative effort filming a gig by bizarre Rabbie Burns/Iggy Pop hybrid The Bum-Clocks. I'd been appointed the job of lighting along with Harry, although unknown to us the TPA class had already designed and built a lighting rig. All we had to do was turn up on the day, look through the viewfinder and see whether or not they were bright enough. Hardly the exciting start I'd hoped for; although I did manage to successfully callibrate the monitor on one of the cameras. WIN! I mostly felt like we were hanging about alot, unsure what we were waiting about for... Still, everyone has to start somewhere huh? However un-glamourous... I realised I have a perfect wardrobe for working in film though, since TPA sent us an email saying we were to wear all black on the day so we wouldn't get picked up by the cameras. Who'd have thought my goff-like tendencies would benefit my career in some bizarre way??

"Are the lights on, Harry?" *looks up* "Yeah". JOB DONE.

It had been a fairly quiet week in all, as we were off the Monday and Tuesday of week 3. Last week, however, we repaid our time off in dividends. Our wandering jet-setter Richard had returned from LA for three days of intensive writing. Brilliant, I thought. I'd been missing it; even Monday mornings were less of a chore when I was on my way to something I looked forward to. As nice as it's been getting a few hours extra kip, I've missed having a sense of purpose on a Monday morning, so I was most excited by the next few days.

We started off with a good ol' game of statues; where some of the class got up in pairs to arrange themselves in positions we could make stories from. It was good to get right back into the swing of things, and a good way to shake off the morning brain-fuzz. From then on we revised three-act structure and theme, which we'd covered before Christmas. That afternoon, we tried a game of 'consequences', with the difference being we could see what the person before us had written. It didn't make much difference- we'd have been as well not seeing it, considering some of the nonsense we came up with- a claustrophobic submarine captain (who hid in a cupboard despite being the most experienced on his sub), and a man trying to ciphon petrol to get to a hospital on time were some of the, err, stand-out examples. We actually sat unable to read half of them for laughing so much- but hardly condusive to a good writing sesh but helluva funny! We rounded off the day with a quick intro to visual storytelling and symbolism but by this point I'd started to flag a little- luckily for me I had a whole shift at work to look forward to, to perk me up. Yaaay.

The next day my effing bus decided to play silly beggars (calm....caaaalllmmmm...) but I got there in time to share the premises we'd come up with the night before. Mines were pretty rubbish- in my opinion anyway. It's things like this which make me worry I don't have the imagination to be a really good writer; a fear compounded by the feedback on my dire five-minute script. Still, we ended up choosing a really good 'un to write an outline for- a man brings home a lilo from holiday, of which his blow-up doll gets insanely jealous. Instantly I thought of psychotic killer blow-up sex dolls... hmmm. Maybe I should start watching a little something-something in the romantic comedy genre... just for a wee change of tone, no? It'll be really interesting to see everyone's interpretations of this premise- it really could go any way!
That afternoon, we covered character, and had to come up with random character facts like 'what's on their bedroom wall?' based on a photo. It was surreal how we could come up with so many different answers to the same questions. Just goes to show we're a creative bunch after all, huh? We skipped the photo of the fringe-y goff chick, though- I think it reminded people of someone...



Wednesday was one which we were all kind of dreading: we had to reveal three things we don't like about ourselves. It couldn't be anything physical, either. We couldn't say, for girly example, "Oh my God, I'm soooo fat". We had to say why we thought this way and where it came from. Scary stuff, no? Well, as it happened, no. I dunno if it's testament to how we've bonded as a class, but as soon as everyone started I didn't feel weird or uncomfortable- I was actually surprised at how common my self-musings were. Like, I'm not the only one who has the same doubts and negativity. As with the Post-Secret class, it was really cathartic and voicing my fears was a far less saunting prospect knowing pretty much everyone felt the same. Still, I was relieved to find there was consolatory munch afterwards too. (OMG Julia, thank you for introducing me to Caramel Buttons- I'd get fat for them).

We rounded up Intense Screenwriting 101 with a brief chat about dialogue and a clip from Don't Look Now. I later got it out the library- DULL. Not even the lovely Julie Christie could stop me needing to prop my eyes open. Anyway. We had tutorials about our five-minute scripts that afternoon. Sadly mine was not a stunning exercise in beautifully woven syntax and near-perfect structure; instead it was a bit of a jumbled mess that wasn't as sophisticated or even thought out as it could have been. Probably because it wasn't my first idea- it was a nice idea, so I was told, but a bit dialogue-heavy (which I knew- covering up for lack of structure mmmmaybe...?). Ah well- here's hoping Psychotic Sex Doll Lilo Lover yields better results.

We continued our foray into writing territory with a visit John Yorke- controller of BBC Drama Production, according to Wikipedia, I looked him up and everything. I love that we get industry practitioners coming to talk to us in class, it's one of the things I love about it- rather than just get boring old prescribed stuff like at 'actual' uni, we get people who are active in the film and TV industry who really know what they're talking about, and what they're looking for in terms of new ideas. I s'pose some of your luck in the industry depends on who you know, 'cause they can tell you what they're looking for and if you're on the right track, and we're really getting the best possible start. That afternoon, we had a crash course in Russian cinema, following up on our vieweing of Battleship Potemkin t'other week. I wasn't mad keen on the film, but we did learn about 'creative geography' which is apparently the most important thing we can know as film makers. It's all about audience trickery and making them believe objects and places are not where they are... I'm rubbish at explaining, but it's pretty simple. It's amazing how the most brilliant ideas are often the ones staring you straight in the face. I'm always over-complicating things I don't have to, hence why I never come up with any brilliantly ingenious ideas... yet.

Friday brought more travel complications (not now...) and I missed the first part of Chaplin's City Lights. Gutter indeed, I found myself really enjoying it despite the Tramp knocking on a bit in years. The romance between him and a blind flower-seller was really sweet and was a natural follow-on from Sunrise last week. I've definitely warmed to the ol' silent movies over the last term, and Chaplin's movies are definitely the most consistent and engaging. Shockingly I'd never actually seen any of it films before, and now I'm keeping my fingers crossed I can pick up City Lights from the library cuz I really want to see the start!

FML With A Vengeance

( This four-wheeled petrol demon is the reason for my perennial lateness, and forces me to sit next to old people who smell like cabbage and click their tongues alot. EVIL!!)

If there is such a thing as karma then truly it's coming back at me with a vengeance. Honestly. For 2 years in Aberdeen, I never really had to get a bus anywhere. I lived 15 minutes walk from town, and across the road from uni, so there wasn't any point. Back in Glasgow, I lived in the Merchant City for 2 years- again, working on Queen Street and going to the Metropolitan college meant I could literally leave 15 minutes before I had to be anywhere and STILL have time for coffee and a fag before I went in. Even Bridgeton was only another 10 minutes through Glasgow Green- a lovely wee stroll in the morning to wake me up before class, as opposed to the bus, which went along London Road. An obvious choice, I think you'll agree..

ANYWAY. Since October, I've been staying back at home with my folks for the first time in... ooh ...about 5 years? At first I was relieved, the not-paying-rent thing meant I didn't have to bust my arse doing 5 shifts a week as well as go to uni every day... and it's always nice coming in knowing there's food in the fridge. What I did give up, however, was the convenience. I don't live near ANYWHERE. Even the nearest bus stop with a regular service is a 15-minute walk from my house. My timing couldn't be better either: they're extending the motorway which runs right through the middle of Cumbernauld (as if living in Cumbernauld wasn't bad enough, they now seem determined to make it even more difficult to get out of the damned place). Also, there's no bus after half 12 during the week which means I have to rely of lifts and taxis en route home from work. Basically, in not having to pay rent, I've given up all independence regarding getting to and from anywhere, and it's costing me a bloody fortune to boot.

After the travel chaos of the intensely heavy snow over Christmas, they seem to have now intensified the workload on the roads to make up for lost time. (REALLY, was it such a shocker? Coldness, wetness and snow in winter??? Heavens alive! SOMEONE TELL THE DAILY MAIL) Last week, I was late for Richard's class on Monday cuz the bus didn't turn up. Not at all. On the day of our collaborative shoot with TPA, the bus sat at the next stop up the road for 10 minutes. It just sat there, doing nothing. Same on Friday; except that after trawling through the Stepps bypass at a snail's pace, and running half an hour behind schedule, the driver then told us "we're gonna be half an hour on Cathedral Street". This was at....9:55? When we were starting at 10? And I'd got the bus at...ten to 9?? Soooo, I got off at the Royal, in the pouring rain just as I heard a bus inspector telling my driver to "go roon the back ae Toonheid"...which takes all of 5 minutes. I couldn't even get back on the bus; the earlier revelation that we'd be half an hour going down Cathedral Street had prompted an involuntary "fuck off" from me (it just came out, honest...). After this, we finished at 2:45...and I wasn't starting work til 6. Too late to go home and back, too long to stoat about the shops with no money.

The worst journey of all though, came this morning. I'd made every effort possible to make sure I was up on time. I even dug out my old alarm clock that'd actually wake the six-feet-under. I was up and ready, with my wee packed lunch ready, at 7:45. Luckily, I was up in time to catch the bus that's only a 5-minute walk. I had managed the impossible, too, of getting The Boy up and out the door before afternoon-time. Quite a feat indeed!!! But yeah. I asked a wee woman at the bus stop if the X2 had been by yet; she looked at me as if I'd beaten her elderly mother using her beloved cat as a weapon. After waiting 10 minutes, we decided we were going to have to walk to the far away bus stop. ANNOYING, but at least we were on time. The bus wasn't. It wasn't too late; in fact it looked like we might even kind of be on time. I didn't realise, though, that you can't get a 2-journey ticket before 9am. You have to get an all-day ticket, which is £4 and, of course, I had to pay for the Boy's as well. Still, I gritted my teeth, relieved the bloody thing was relatively on time for a change. Until we got to just outside Westfield, which is about 5/10 minutes from where we'd got on. From here, to the cut-off at Moodiesburn, is maybe all of 3 and a half minutes. This morning it took FORTY EFFING FIVE. And I was going to be late for Kim's class, AGAIN, after the same troubles the last time she took us on a Monday morning.
Of course, this morning bus is The Bus of The Living Dead; what with all the elderly folk who like to inexplicably go into town at that ungodly hour. And, of course, elderly folk like to complain. So everyone who got on the bus after this decided to hold the bus up even further by moaning about how late it was. Yeah, cuz that's gonna get you into town faster. The only saving grace of this whole debacle was that I got to do some last minute refinements on my soap character for Kim, and I got an extra wee cheeky nap. This didn't really help though, when I blustered into class with my smudgy make-up from having dozed off on the Boy's shoulder- really not professional!!
Thankfully, I'd no such troubles on the way home. OF COURSE, it turned up on time. I spent the whole journey home pondering whether living in a cardboard box under Central Station bridge would be worth it for the easy commute. My housecoat has a hood on it; I reckon I'll be fine. For some extra pennies, I reckon I could go 17th Century and try my hand at being a highwayman. My first target?..... the X3.

So, Murnau's Death Huh... Cheeky.

Truth be told, I hadn't even heard of last week's Friday Film, despite much praise heaped upon it by Andy- in fact, apparently the directing tutor dude even made a comment about how 'lucky' we were to be seeing it for the first time. I felt a wee bit ashamed, what with me fancying myself as a bit of a film buff an' that. I really liked FW Murnau's Nosferatu the week before- the highly stylised lunacy of the German Expressionist style is perfectly suited to the horror genre, although this one was definitely an exception to the 'vampires are sexy' rule. Max Shreck was thoroughly creepy and grotesque as the eponymous vamp, looking like a cross between a gargoyle and a buck-toothed egg. Not quite R-Patz then...

We were promised the next screening would be even more of a treat- 1927's Sunrise, Murnau's first feature after emigrating to Hollywood. We were also sent away to "FOFO", as Andy put it, the details of Murnau's untimely death since he wouldn't tell us himself. I looked it up when I got home, and looked him up again as reference two minutes ago- in the space of a fortnight the specifics of his death have been changed to simply "automobile accident" on Wikipedia... hmm! Controversial??

I wasn't really looking forward to Sunrise, despite the hype about it being "the greatest film ever made"... I didn't know anything of the plot but usually when I hear something described as such it makes me cringe. I guess I'm strangely predisposed to hating whatever I'm told is good, because I don't like being told what to like... Or maybe I'm just being petulant. Either way, I totally found myself being very pleasantly surprised- not only that I liked it, but that I liked it for reasons that'd make me boak in other films. It was sweet, tender and delicately shot, with only the briefest insertion of intertitles (Murnau wasn't a fan, apparently). I felt such sympathy for 'The Wife' character- her brutish husband leaves her on her own to look after their baby and farm, while he's off dallying with some scarlet woman from The City. THEN he has the gall to try and drown her, so he and his mistress can run off together! His poor wife was so tiny and doll-like that I felt sort of protective towards her and got a horrible feeling of dread when her husband suggests they take a boat trip. She got so visibly excited that he wanted to spend time together, and not knowing the story I had no idea whether or not she'd be OK.

I breathed a sigh of relief as The Husband couldn't go through with it and, after chasing her from the boat through the City, apologises to his wife for his philandering ways. They then spend the day together, having their picture taken, going to a funfair and going dancing- my absolute favourite scene featuring a drunk piglet is the cutest thing ever (although I am aware of how cruel/inhumane/PETA-baiting that actually sounds). One thing I did find rather hard to swallow was how easily The Wife accepted The Husband's apology; coupled with a scene in a barbers where he gets jealous over a strange man sitting next to his wife. It really irritated me- what right did he have to be angry when he's the one having an affair? What is it about his boorish demeanour that his wife seemed to find so appealing? Maybe it was the done thing back in 1927, I s'pose, that misdemeanours were swept under the rug for the sake of propriety.
On their return journey, the Wife's life is in peril when she is swept overboard by a storm, leaving her husband alone and desolate. Eventually, she is returned alive and well, and the slatternly city woman sent back to where she came from.

The morals of the film are quite heavy-handed, but at the same time there's no real repercussion for anyone's actions or indiscretions. It's a happy ending in a sense; the sparse peasant farmhouse imbued with a sense of love and familial affection when the Wife wakes up from her ordeal. The sets were astonishing considering they were exactly that- sets. The vast amounts of money thrown at the film are on the screen for all to see- although I guess they didn't have expensive CGI or exorbitant actors' fees to pay back then, and the money could be proportioned into making the film look as good as it possibly could. Visually, it's fascinating, and even the soundtrack was fitting to the tone of the film- silent movie soundtracks are usually horrific and make me want to rip off my own ears but thankfully this one was as sweet as its content.

I don't think I'd agree with the plaudits of Best Film Ever Made but I can certainly see why it's considered to be. If I didn't know it was directed by Murnau, I'd never have guessed- it's so far removed visually and stylistically from Nosferatu, one of the most renowned German Expressionist films. Sunrise on the other hand is old-fashioned Americana, although the impeccable cinematography lifts it way above similar films of its time. The scene in which The Hisband and Wife walk through busy traffic is amazingly accomplished and confident, and it's obvious that alot of love has gone into making this film. The tension in the first and final acts is offset perfectly by the lightheated vignettes in the middle (see, I do pay attention to structure!) and after a while you don't even notice the lack of intertitles- the story plays itself out in the faces of its stars. Overall, perhaps not a film I'd have chosen to watch myself, but one that I'm definitely glad to have seen. Does anyone know where I can get a piglet?