Miscellany, waffle, gratuitously stolen links, and much, much less.
Serpentine Sessions, Hyde Park, Monday 29 June 2009
I should start by fessing up that I hate festivals, and while Serpentine Sessions is not exactly Glastonbury, it still has warm overpriced cider, burgers that taste like regurgitated dog meat (only less flavoursome) and appallingly pungent toilets. None of which — despite the glorious weather — boded overly well for the gig, and all of which were not what I expected from what should have been a slightly classier festival than most.
Cameraphones at gigs, how much do I hate thee? There seemed to be more than the usual number hoisted into the air to take blurred, underexposed, pinprick shots of the stage here, and I would have sold my soul for a license to shatter every LCD screen with a high powered sniper rifle. There also seemed to be more than the usual number of peculiar middle aged, middle class estate agents/bankers who not only knew every word to every song, but insisted on attempting to sing along with Ms Spektor. Much to my ears’ displeasure.
This all sounds rather negative, doesn’t it? Which is unfair, as the show itself was very good indeed — though I must confess that I think Spektor is at her best as a solo performer. I think that with a band (well, a cellist, a violinist and a drummer) she tends to veer more towards the pop end of her ouvre, which I don’t believe is her best work. I think her jazzier, more avant garde (read: earlier) style is what makes Regina Spektor unique, and I’d like to have seen a little more of it, but there’s no denying she can be truly spine tingling when she wants to be.
Overall, a thumbs up for Regina, a thumbs down for the organisers, I expected much better.
Directed by Paul Greengrass (2006)
It may have taken three years, but I’m glad I finally got around to sitting through Paul Greengrass’ deeply affecting, terse and brilliant film concerning the events on the only plane hijacked on 9/11 that didn’t find it’s target.
It’s a brilliantly directed and paced docudrama, that captures the shock and subsequent slow-building panic of that day back in 2001. The actions of those on UA-93 and on the ground are depicted in an eminently believable, and heartbreaking narrative, that slowly builds in real-time to it’s devastating conclusion. What I found most interesting about the piece is that it doesn’t suggest some giant global conspiracy, or act of stupidity on behalf of the authorities that could have prevented anything on the day — it demonstrates perfectly how what now seems obvious was at the time completely inconceivable.
We can never go back to how our minds worked before 9/11. The concept of hijacked commercial airliners flying kamikaze into buildings was simply not something the average person would be able to conceive for a minute. The air-traffic controllers, and even the lower-echelons of the military could not have realised the scale — and for want of less complimentary words, brilliance and ingenuity — of the attack, and were powerless to stop anything before it was too late.
Thus the actions of those on UA-93 are thrown into even sharper relief, their tenaciousness and bravery was something truly remarkable, and it’s never too late to be reminded of it.
I couldn’t recommend United 93 enough.
Directed by Juan Antonio Bayona (2007)
Despite glowing reviews almost across the board, I think that deep down I expected The Orphanage to be a fairly conventional, shocks and creepy-kids horror film. I’m happy to say I was (very) pleasantly surprised.
It’s not that there’s anything staggeringly original, or absolutely terrifying going on: there’s just a subtle, haunting atmosphere that permeates every scene. There’s an uneasy feeling that you can’t shake off, and a creepy nervousness that can only really describe as ‘edge of the seat’ — but not in the traditional sense.
It’s a film that really stays with you (it may finally have dislodged The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford from my brain) and I loved it. Belén Rueda in the lead role as troubled mother Lucia puts in a really magnificent performance, subtle and powerful, strong but vulnerable.
Recommended. With bells on.
Directed by J J Abrams (2009)
If there’s a more fundamentally enjoyable two hours to be had in a cinema this year than Star Trek at the IMAX then I’ll be very surprised.
The first thing to say (I suppose) is that I’m no ‘Trekkie’ — I think I could count the number of episodes of the original Star Trek series I’ve seen on one hand — so I was pleasantly surprised to find that this wasn’t an exercise in cheeky nods to the original: at least, if it was, I didn’t notice. I was probably too busy grinning like an idiot at the myriad explosions, witticisms, fights, chases and raised Vulcan eyebrows….
The second thing to say is that Star Trek is one hell of a fun film. As a former astrophysicist, storylines attempting to shoehorn in parallel universes or time travel tend to annoy the hell out of me, but I thought the film’s pseudoscientific devices were very cleverly employed to say the least (and I can’t say more about that without giving things away). The cast were absolutely splendid to a man/woman/alien — Zachary Quinto and Karl Urban as Spock and Bones respectively were particularly well cast — even Simon Pegg’s ropey Scottish accent was forgivable.
Hats off to Abrams, he’s rejuvenated an ailing franchise with a great deal of panache: but more importantly, he’s made a bloody good film that I’ll watch again.
Directed by Armando Iannucci (2009)
I tend to find that political satire generally falls into one of two categories: too worthy, and not funny; or on the money and nothing more than mildy chucklesome. It’s very rare indeed that one finds a political satire that’s got something to say, whilst being roll in the aisles funny: barely a minute passed by that In The Loop didn’t have me snorting with laughter.
I’d slightly disagree with the (common) criticism that when it gets to America it doesn’t fare as well — Peter Capaldi and James Gandolfini’s exchange in the hotel bar felt like a filmic landmark all the way to “and don’t ever call me English again” — I thought that while the American characters were certainly more exaggerated and played for overt comic value, they provided a counterpoint to the cynical laughs provided by the British cast.
Terrific film, it really is. Highly recommended.
I suppose the first thing to say is that — having not seen a 3D film since about 1988 — I was seriously surprised at how good 3D technology is. I think the new Ray Charles style glasses are probably a little better than the old-school red/blue 3D glasses, and the show-off moments — like the bored guy playing with a paddle ball — really are quite impressive (in that case, I actually ducked). That said, when it tries to encompass wider scenes, it suffers from a lack of gradient in it’s portrayal of photographic depth, often looking more like a tilt-shift photograph than a realistic shot of a city from above.
Anyway, enough technical nonsense, it’s a perfectly enjoyable Sunday evening film. I laughed out loud many times (sometimes helplessly, and against my better judgement) and grinned through pretty much the whole 97 minutes. I think it’s probably the shortest film I’ve seen at the cinema in a long time (this being the age of ‘make the story last 3 hours or be hanged!’) and it felt perfectly judged throughout.
There’s no point in overanalysing — beyond a token nod to being more accepting of people who are ‘different’, there’s little or no morality tale being force-fed here — it’s funny, it’s fun, it’s worth a trip to the cinema for the 3D alone. Recommended.
It’s almost impossible to describe Julia Leigh’s debut novel: a dark, haunting, thrilling, mysterious … monologue. Leigh attempts to draw the reader into the mind of a cold, emotionless killer on a quest to find and kill the last Tasmanian Tiger (assuming it’s not extinct already).
At 170 pages, The Hunter is a short, tightly-focused novel. It’s gripping, beautifully written — a love-poem to the life of a solitary hunter and his quarry — and I couldn’t put it down.
Directed by Alfonso Cuarón (2006)
A brilliant, brilliant film. Great performances from the whole cast — with a special mention for Michael Caine — who were supported by a subdued but tight and believable script. It’s a testament to the brilliance of Alfonso Cuaron that he took a difficult and far fetched notion, and turned it into a very plausible and frightening reality. Hugely impressed, and convinced the Cuaron is one of the most talented filmakers alive today.
Directed by Michael Winterbottom (2002)
It’s a pretty shambolic film, which is apt given the subject matter. It’s a massively affectionate and hugely enjoyable film though, but I was always going to love it as I’m a huge fan of Tony Wilson, Steve Coogan, Joy Division, New Order, Happy Mondays, Paddy Considine and pretty much the rest of the cast too. If you like the music, the (80s/early 90s) Manchester music scene or great British casting, then you’ll love it too. It made me miss Manchester a little too.
Directed by Shane Meadows (1999)
As I’m honest, I’ll admit that I only watched this film because I enjoyed Considine and Meadows’ partnership in the brilliant Dead Man’s Shoes; but it wasn’t a bad decision. Considine has an almost supernatural ability to play both sympathetic and menacing characters – but I don’t want to harp on about him too much – the younger members of the cast deserve as much praise. Ben Marshall and Andrew Shim play the relationship between yound friends more convincingly than almost any I’ve seen before. Shane Meadows does it again.
Directed by Shane Meadows (2004)
As near to flawless a film as I’ve seen for a long time. Paddy Considine is abslutely mesmerising in the central role ferocious even further adjectives wouldn’t do his performance justice. There are a couple of moments when his delivery shoots a jolt of electricity up your spine. The script, camera-work and particularly the score, are all perfectly pitched in the dark, brooding, evil-soaked atmosphere; a classic tale of revenge harking back to the darker Spaghetti Westerns, I simply couldn’t recommend it enough.
Directed by Vincenzo Natali (2002)
This is a film it’s taken me an age to get around to actually watching, and it was worth the wait. Despite the fact that Jeremy Northam’s gormless nerd routine began to get on my nerves after around fifteen minutes, I found the film as a whole quite enthralling. The cinematography and direction were unusual, in a good way … there’s a shot after around six minutes that blew me away — and the sparse, piano driven score was utterly wonderful. The plot is convoluted, and in many places a little clichéd, however it’s weaved together in such a way that it rarely becomes confusing or particularly hard to follow, but it does keep the viewer guessing. It’s surprisingly technically mature given the inexperience of the director, and I wouldn’t hesitate to recommend it to anyone. Available at a DVD store near you now.
Directed by George Armitage (1997)
I can’t believe it’s taken me nearly ten years to see this film, but it was worth the wait. Hilarious, perfectly paced and brilliantly written, and Dan Aykroyd was just made to play a hitman. And what a soundtrack too. If — like me — you’ve yet to catch this classic piece of cinema, get it on DVD, now.
Directed by Vincenzo Natali (1997)
A truly intriguing and original film. It’s far from perfect: the script is dodgy at best, the acting in parts is atrocious and the special effects are a bit … special, but that doesn’t stop it being an oddly gripping and enjoyable 97 minutes for the most part. There are hints of Natali’s talent for tense and gripping set pieces in some scenes, and there’s no doubting that despite the poor script, it’s a well told and most importantly, interesting story.
