Catherine's Critiquing

"The Way I See It" - Alan Sugar

2011-12-05T18:01:00.002Z

Lord Sugar's "The Way I See It" is an informative, entertaining, mind-boggling lesson that should be heeded by everyone.

Within its pages he vents his frustrations that are shared by so many of the British populace in his plain-speaking manner, and handles controversial suggestions for improving the state of the nations's unemployment and crime with reason and logic.

He also explains the financial situation within our national sport of football. Those of us who simply follow a team's progress with no idea of what goes on behind the scenes often wonder why despite the eye-watering numbers teams make from television rights the team is actually in debt. Sugar does a marvellous job of explaining in layman's terms the actual income and outgoings of a football team in England.

Time and again he reiterates his message to small businesses that they should expect no help from the government or banks and to do it themselves if they want to succeed. It may seem a harsh, unwelcome message, but it is the same message he himself received when he set out to form his own business. After the extraordinary rate at which the banks were lending money, they are simply having to revert back to their prior position of not lending to anyone who could not provide some collateral.

Having not read Sugar's autobiography "What You See Is What You Get" (it's now on my Sony reader), I was astonished and inspired by how he first seized on an opportunity to make a bit of money at the age of 11. While watching road workers resurface a road in Clapton, he saw them dig up old wooden blocks that had been impregnated with tar. As these blocks were no longer needed, they were to be thrown away. Yet the workers threw a couple onto their fire where they burned with consummate ease, and the 11-year-old Alan recognised that the blocks could be made into firefighting sticks and would work better than ordinary wooden lighting sticks.

How many 11-year-olds nowadays are making their first forays into business ventures?! Aside from selling the odd video game on eBay, there can't be many around with such an entrepreneurial mindset.

As well as delivering his take on such recent news stories as the phone hacking scandal, bemoaning the draconian health and safety and outrageous litigation culture, he indulges himself by telling the reader of his passions for tennis (I love it), cycling (I hate it) and flying planes (not tried it, yet). Then there are the obligatory few paragraphs on his Twitter and personal relationships with Piers Morgan, including a delightfully wicked retort to Morgan's bragging about the advertising in Times Square for his television show.

Although some of Sugar's views will offend, something he freely acknowledges in the first page, the majority of them make sense. The most controversial, after some consideration, do seem a better, more practical option than the current situation; and with a new approach and mindset to a serious issue such as drugs, with proper thought and execution, could work. Frankly, should Lord Sugar stand for election with this book as his manifesto, he would be in Number Ten tomorrow. Sadly, he states categorically that "no way could [he] ever be a politician, let alone prime minister".

"The Way I See It", despite its reality check to small businesses expecting handouts from the banks and government and young people hoping to be the next Mark Zuckerberg, is still an inspiring read.

If you will allow me to end on a personal note: my mother and I agree wholeheartedly with his solution to unemployment: in exchange for leaving their jobs at 55, workers who have paid tax and national insurance should receive a million pound bond to spend on British cars, British homes and British holidays, and make way for the younger generation to get into work.

I am 24, unemployed and currently not receiving any Jobseekers payments because I failed to apply for one job the Jobcentre gave me as I mixed up the closing date for the online application, a job in which my experience is minimal and two years old but I have to pick jobs in that sector as they are more attainable in my local area. Yet since signing on the dole in July I have applied for around 150 jobs that I have found myself, for which I have a degree and over a year's recent experience, and only about ten of them have been in my local area.

Because of one job I have had my payments stopped for four and a half months and will receive nothing until the end of February, by which time I will have no money left at all. As I am under 25 and living at home, I cannot even claim hardship payments and due to some ancient social services legislation my parents are expected to support me financially until I am 25 in March. Then it is a different matter entirely.

I am even going in to do some voluntary work for my previous employer to keep my hand in and my brain ticking over. Clearly I am looking for work, wanting to work and am not content to scrounge of the state. Sometimes I am searching for jobs at one and three 'o' clock in the morning when I can't sleep.

My mother is 64, works two days a week in human resources in HMRC after taking partial retirement at 60 because she wanted to work for a couple of years, yet despite a lot of noise two years ago about government cutbacks and possible redundancies, she is still there hoping they will soon let her go. She stays to earn a bit extra money and to get out of the house for two days a week. My father is already retired, so we don't have much money.

After reading "The Way I See It", should I receive no answer from any of the jobs I have applied for by the end of the year, I will sign up as an Avon rep to earn some money.

11.22.63 - Stephen King

2011-11-24T21:08:00.002Z

11.22.63. The day JFK is assassinated.

But what if he lived? This is the interesting question posed by Stephen King in his epic new novel.

What if someone could time-travel from 2011 armed with the details of the assassination and prevent it from happening? Would the world be a better place now had he lived?

Jake Epping, a sensible, respectable English teacher is convinced to do just that after the proprietor of his favourite eating place ages radically and starts dying of lung cancer seemingly overnight. Al Templeton has found a "rabbit hole" in the back of his diner that leads to 1958, and no matter how long one spends in the past, on returning through the rabbit hole only two minutes have passed in 2011.

Al, having made numerous trips to 1958 to buy the meat for his burgers, has collated together all the information he can about Lee Harvey Oswald, his movements, his family and acquaintances, his living quarters, but now he is too sick to stop Oswald himself.

Of course, as the rabbit hole appears in 1958, Jake has five years to spend in the past before the 22nd October 1963 comes around. He also has to ensure that Oswald is actually the shooter.

Even as Jake accustoms himself to late 1950s customs, even as he partakes in the normal, everyday existence, tribulations and exultations of a schoolteacher in a town outside Dallas called Jodie, King masterfully keeps up the tension of Jake's real reason for being there. The very date of 11.22.63 seems to loom over the story like the Dome looms over the town in Under the Dome.

King captures the essence, perceptions and prejudices of the late 1950s perfectly. Sexism, racism, the political split, nothing is kept back. Yet there is also the kindess, the community spirit, the comparative liberty of the time. There is also humour. I laughed out loud at a snippet of conversation that took place on the 22nd November 1963, even though I could see it coming a mile off.

Once again King picks up on small, mundane acts of human life and turns them into something big, even meaningful, in once small action showing the character of the time and the people that lived through it. Not even including Jake's actions, every one of which there is a sense it could have radical consequences, but something as simple as a woman washing a car with one hand and holding a cigarette in the other.

We grow to know and love the characters over the five years, from Jake, to his (very) mature student Harry, to Sadie, the woman Jake meets in the past. We are as horrified, saddened and gladdened by their experiences as the characters that surround them and care for them.

The premise of the story is gripping, as is the storytelling. I devoured the 700 pages in five days, half of it on the coach-trip home from a weekend in London on Tuesday.

I challenge anyone to read this book and the afterword and not to immediately search YouTube for "Zapruder Kennedy".

Jamie's Italian Restaurant - Glasgow

2011-09-20T19:21:00.002+01:00

I will admit, we ended up in Jamie Oliver's Italian in George Square in Glasgow by accident.

Mam and I had been wandering around the city for a while on a Saturday night, the 17th September, looking for somewhere to eat. Searching on my iPhone I found Prezzo's just around the corner, but as we walked through the Square we passed Jamie Oliver's restaurant.

We took one look at it, situated in a big, grand old Glaswegian building, and dismissed it as "too expensive", but I had a look at the menu on the wall outside anyway, "for a laugh".

What I saw surprised me: under the not-so-good lighting in the white text on the pink background, I thought I could see two prices for the pasta dishes, presumably the ones for £6-£8 were half portions.

We went inside and were told we may have to wait up to an hour for a table, but we decided to treat ourselves, not having had a proper meal since Thursday due to going to the Davis Cup tennis at Braehead on Friday and Saturday.

Inside, the restaurant was one huge open-plan room, full of tables, but not crowded. It was noisy, but in a bustling, chatting way; not like a pub or bar with loud pounding music that prevented any conversation.

We went downstairs to the bar for a drink while we waited for a table. A G+T and a ginger and lemongrass presse (basically ginger beer with a hint of lemongrass) was just under £8.

The bar was smaller and noisier than the restaurant, but we could still talk easily enough. The number of people waiting for a table encouraged us: it must be good if there are this many people wanting to eat here!

Scouring the menu again, we settled on two half portions of spaghetti bolognese, and a bowl of crispy polenta chips between us.

By the time we had read the menu cover to cover and had a bit chat, our table was ready, maybe about 45 minutes after we arrived.

The decor was kind of modern-rustic, if you get my drift. The chairs were bright red, and would not have looked out of place outside some charismatic little European bistro. The tables were dark wood, and although the lights were low it was still light enough to see what you were eating.

The place had character, it had a buzz about it. Lots of satisfied, happy people filling their bellies with good food, and lots of people waiting patiently for their turn.

Our orders did not take long to arrive, but when they did, being half-portions, they looked tiny. But, when you're used to getting huge platters of food in restaurants, small portions are going to look small.

However once we started eating, it was surprising how filling the food was. Although just a humble spag-bol, it tasted doubly delicious after living on fast food and quick bites that could not even be called snacks for the previous two days.

As I ate I could not help but wonder what it would be like to eat Jamie-inspired cooking every day. There would probably be more food in a meal, but it would also fill the stomach, potentially stop you from snacking and so would be healthier as well as tastier.

I even managed to clear my plate of the bolognese sauce. Usually I only eat whatever sauce happens to stick to the spaghetti and end up with half a plate of mince left over. This time there were only two or three forkfuls left, and it was worth finishing.

We could have gone to Prezzo, to a chain that has the same restaurant with the same menu in every major city and paid £10 each for a meal I would not have been able to finish due to it's size, but we tried something that was different yet familiar, that was just enough to comfortably fill the stomach despite its diminutive appearance, and enjoyed it thoroughly.

The chips were a large potato chopped into six pieces, cooked, and topped with rosemary and Parmesan cheese, they too were scrumptious. This, to me, is the way to go with vegetables. All my life my parents have simply chopped the veg into a pressure cooker and boiled them in nothing but hot water. Boring. Boring. BORING!

When I move into my own house, I won't even own a pressure cooker, they're evil things. I once followed Jamie's 30-minute Sunday Roast recipe when I was home alone; simply cooking the potatoes then sautéing them with some garlic and rosemary made all the difference, as did cooking the carrots with a spoonful of sugar, which certainly helped the medicine go down. For once I actually enjoyed eating the vegetables, and not just the cheat's roasties.

Now I might just have to add Jamie's Italian cookbook to my copies of 30-Minute Meals and Ministry of Food.

The King's Speech

2011-02-02T11:03:00.003Z

The King’s Speech is a veritable Pride and Prejudice of 1995 reunion. We have Mr Darcy as King George VI, Elizabeth Bennet as his speech therapist’s wife, and even Mr Collins makes a cameo as a theatre director.

Even the dialogue is akin to that of Jane Austen. The whole film is something that seems closer to her time than to ours, in everything from the settings to the culture and society.

As Hitler rises to power, pushing Europe closer to War, King George V is ailing, and his eldest son Edward is getting closer to twice-divorced American Wallis Simpson. Edward’s younger brother Albert (Colin Firth on top form) has tried every speech therapist in London to try and cure his stammer, to no avail.

His wife Elizabeth (a regal Helena Bonham Carter) is recommended to try Lionel Logue, an Australian speech therapist played with understated wry humour by Geoffrey Rush, and after initial reluctance, Albert attends and continues to attend his unorthodox sessions.

As their relationship develops into what Albert can call a friendship, Logue prods gently deeper into the underlying causes of “Bertie’s” impediment, constantly arriving at Edward. This only intensifies when the King dies, and Edward inherits the throne, despite still being infatuated with Wallis.

Albert’s impatience and temper grows shorter as his brother wavers between his duty and the woman he loves, coming to a head when Edward finally abdicates, passing on his title and responsibilities to his frightened younger brother, who becomes King George VI.

When War is announced, and the British public look to a King who can lead them through the hardships, George VI has to prove himself by delivering a nine-minute radio speech.

The King’s Speech does a fine job of showing the Royal Family as a family. Royal, yes, but still a family. From Albert telling his two daughters a story about penguins, to a family get-together where Queen Elizabeth and Wallis Simpson are on frosty terms. It shows the love between Albert and Elizabeth, and her resolve in helping him overcome his stammer.

There is even a good deal of humour. A scene during his therapy in which Albert vents his frustration at Edward by unleashing a series of expletives had even the elderly members of the audience laughing. A rare moment when the use of the F word was genuinely funny. Writers and comedians take note.

As George VI haltingly but resolutely delivers his speech, and the country comes to a standstill to gather around their radios in terraced houses, country mansions, pubs and army barracks to listen to him, it could not fail to bring a lump to the throat.

We are also treated to a parade of well-known actors portraying famous historical figures: Timothy Spall as Winston Churchill, Michael Gambon as King George V, Guy Pearce as Edward, Derek Jacobi as Archbishop Lang, and even Outnumbered’s Ramona Marquez as the young Princess Margaret.

Yet every time the new King was referred to as “Bertie”, I could not help but think of Bertie Wooster.

Despite this, The King’s Speech is sumptuous. The production, direction, locations, performances and soundtrack are all pitch perfect. It tells the story of a man thrown by birth and circumstance into a role that he did not want to play, and his determination and courage to adapt to it.

Meat Loaf - Newcastle Metro Radio Arena - 14/12/10

2010-12-16T16:58:00.001Z

Halfway through Meat Loaf’s concert at the Newcastle arena, a young boy in the row behind me commented: “I feel like I’m at a pantomime!”

The morning after the night before, I see where he’s coming from. For two mad hours of high energy we were treated to a melee of cheeky banter, oversized - sorry, replica-sized - props, a mixture of grim and barmy stage-sets, topped off with the overblown, glorious songs that have defined The Loaf’s career, as well as those from the new album, Hang Cool Teddy Bear. In one word, it was fun. In lots of words, it was this:

With a stupendous roar from the crowd, Meat was welcomed back to the stage he was so abruptly forced to leave after half an hour of a show in 2007. Throughout this concert he mentioned it, joked about it, sincerely apologised for it, and thanked us profusely for coming back tonight.

He began with ‘Hot Patootie’. He sounded just fine. Behind the stage, a large screen played the scene from The Rocky Horror Picture Show (he hasn’t changed a bit!), but the sound was all him and the band.

After ‘If It Ain’t Broke’ and ‘Bat Out Of Hell’, he then introduced us to the new songs. Although ‘Peace On Earth’ shook the earth, and ‘Living On The Outside’ rocked and rolled, it was ‘Los Angeloser’ that was best received by the Newcastle crowd.

‘Song of Madness’, my favourite track from the new album, was thunderous. For all the trouble they had gone to in putting together some imagery to go on the big screen, I’m sorry to say I didn’t notice it; I was too busy watching Meat, my mouth hanging open and my fingers wrapped around my forgotten camera lens. My head rang like Big Ben as he bellowed “carry me to my graaaaaaaaaaaaaaave!”, I didn’t want it to end.

Although The Voice had the occasional crack during the new stuff, it grew in confidence, strength and beauty as the night wore on; varying from high but perfectly held notes to low, sonorous rumbles not unlike that earth-shaking thunder-roll the Tyne-Wear area felt that night during the snow.

The band has changed somewhat. Bassist Kasim Sulton was absent, and pianist Mark Alexander was replaced by the ludicrously talented 30-year-old Justin Avery. His arrangements to the intros of the songs kept me guessing even during ‘Anything For Love’, my most favourite song ever. From the way he was playing you’d think he had 20 fingers.

This tour also sees the return of the lovably feisty Patti Russo as Meat Loaf’s foil. My own “Patti’s Back!” moment came during ‘Anything For Love’ when the duet begins, and she eased into “will you raise me up, will you help me down?” as if she’d never been away.

Even Happy Bob made an appearance! The This Is Spinal Tap-inspired inflatable bat (thankfully 20’ high, not 20” high) grinned stupidly down at us during ‘Bat’, drawing the biggest laugh of the night.

For all I strictly Do Not Dance, once again I had to make an exception. The music was so head-noddingly rock with a lot of roll that many a time I found myself trying to take a photo while dancing. Even after two hours I still hadn’t learned that it was impossible, especially from Row J.

Despite this being the Hang Cool Tour, most of the audience were here for the old songs. Many of the crowd in Block A even sat down during the Hang Cool songs; which, while rather rude, was great for me: being only 4’11” and ten rows from the stage with someone six foot tall in front of me.

Yet everyone was on their feet for the Jim Steinman-penned songs. There was a rather amusing moment near the end of ‘Paradise By the Dashboard Light’ when the crowd simply kept on merrily singing even where lyrics did not appear.

Everyone in the room joined in with ‘You Took The Words Right Out Of My Mouth’, and everyone simply basked in the heavenly productions of ‘Rock ‘N’ Roll Dreams Come Through’ and ‘Two Out Of Three Ain’t Bad’.

Over two hours since he first appeared, he and Patti launched into ‘Dead Ringer For Love’ as their encore, before finally bidding us farewell.

With this concert, Meat Loaf laid the demons of his last appearance here to rest, both for himself and for his fans. From the number of times he grinned at us or his band, he was enjoying himself as much as we were.

I judge Meat Loaf’s concerts on how much pain I’m in afterwards. Therefore I am happy to report that I had a headache, my neck was stiff, my spine felt squashed, my leg was aching and my feet were sore. Not to mention the physical and emotional exhaustion that follows.

For the seventh time in my life I had that euphoric, otherworldly experience that only comes when Meat Loaf sings and the band plays live. There are some moments that cannot be compared, repeated, or relived. ‘Took The Words’, the beautiful outro to ‘Rock ‘N’ Roll Dreams’, ‘Los Angeloser’, not to mention ‘Song of Madness’ provided some such moments, whether it be for their power, awe, or simply pure unadulterated joy.

Rock Band 3 - Xbox 360

2010-10-30T20:26:00.004+01:00

There are two reasons why this is my first time playing Rock Band. First of all was the price, but then I found the drum-kit for £15 on TheHut.com. I considered it, but after checking the prices and soundtracks of the games, decided against it.

A couple of months later, the drum-kit was down to £9.93, and I discovered that the upcoming Rock Band 3 had Huey Lewis and the News' “The Power of Love” on its setlist.

I knew then that I had to have this game in my life.

Thr drum-kit was ordered and despatched on the same day, and, unable to wait until the 29^th October for RB3, signed up for a free trial with Boomerang, which gave me 21 days to try out RB 1 and 2, and the Lego version.

However, once I knew the drums were on their way to my house, and as Boomerang had not sent me any games, I went and bought Lego Rock Band second-hand.

Despite being a Rock Band virgin, I managed to maintain a mid-80% or higher score for the songs. I also found some tracks on Xbox Live to download and play. I loved the Lego Queen band on “I Want It All”!

Two days before the release date of RB3, I received the email to say it had been despatched, and on the morning of the 29^th when the post came...there was no RB3.

It arrived this morning.

Rock Band 3 has the best soundtrack out of all the games by far. Mainly 70s and 80s rock, along with oddballs such as Amy Winehouse’s “Rehab” (rather tricky, that one) and Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance” on Xbox Live (really enjoyed playing that song!).

It also has the most extensive setlist, which admittedly takes some scrolling through, but it’s worth it for the amount of songs available both on the disc and through download.

Among my favourites are Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing” – although I found it harder than the others at first, Dire Straits' “Walk of Life”, REM’s “Stand” (looked all over for that one on Xbox Live!), Elton John’s “Saturday Night’s Alright For Fighting – on which I achieved my highest score of 105,000-plus, and of course, “The Power of Love”.

There was something very satisfying about getting the opening beats exactly right at the start of Huey Lewis’ classic before launching into the chorus with gusto.

Yet for all the uninhibited rocking exuberance of Elton and Alice Cooper, John Lennon’s “Imagine” brings a gentler feel to the game, and even when concentrating on hitting the right notes, the words of the song still filter through to your mind.

I’ve only had time to go on free-play, as I like picking my own songs and don’t like being told what to play next, but already I have unlocked a few rewards such as clothes and designs. No doubt they will be useful to play with when I embark on the career path.

As with Guitar Hero, after a couple of non-stop hours of watching a scrolling fret, objects around me appeared to be levitating, and now I have a bit of a headache. Perhaps then, it is best enjoyed in moderation.

Now I just have to re-arrange the cluttered underneath of my bed to find somewhere for the drum-kit to live when I'm not playing on it. I have ordered the drum silencers to dim the monotonous thud of wood on plastic when I strike it, and to protect the thing: at times I had to give it a right bashing to keep up. Also I may have to invest in a USB microphone as well as the guitar to go along with the drum-kit. I tried the Lips microphones to no avail.

Finally, I cannot write this review without submitting my own song requests: let's have some Meat Loaf songs available for download, please! Preferably those written by Jim Steinman!

Oh, and the drums are now up to £13 on TheHut!

Michael McIntyre: Life and Laughing

2010-10-20T22:44:00.000+01:00

It is apt that Meat Loaf gets two mentions in Michael McIntyre's "patchy memories", Life and Laughing, as it is because of the former that I was introduced to the latter.

In 2006, I was watching the Royal Variety Performance on television solely to see The Loaf, and wondering how long I would have to wait for his entrance.

I was not particularly thrilled to hear that not only was the next act not Meat Loaf, but was a stand-up comedian, a phrase that normally fills me with dread. Almost all of Britain's contemporary comedians I found to be miserable, offensive, and decidedly not funny.

Yet not a minute later I was smiling, laughing out loud, and quoting Homer Simpson: "it's funny because it's true!"

Since then I have followed McIntyre's career on television and stage. I even deigned to go to his show at Newcastle. Being a Sunderland lass the only two people I would go to Newcastle to see were (you guessed it) Meat Loaf and my orthodontist.

Naturally I was interested to know how McIntyre went from being an unknown, to being the only comedian to make me laugh, to performing sell-out gigs in the country's biggest arenas, and getting 2,500 people in the Sunderland Empire to cheer at the word "Sunderland", even though half of them were from Newcastle.

Frankly, his journey to the top is depressing. After all his dedicated years spent as the effectively "least experienced" understudy at Jongleurs, it is remarkable that he has not turned into a depressed, bitter alcoholic with no future in comedy ahead of him.

As a Chinese-looking baby born to definitely white middle-class parents, he and his younger sister Lucy lived a bizzare existence around celebrities and television studios. His father wrote for The Kenny Everett Show, and his young, glamorous mother was frequently photographed with Kenny, then Britain's biggest TV star.

His rich, eccentric, Hungarian grandmother would give him £50 for playing a game of Scrabble with her, giving him a better salary than his schoolmates.

However his parents grew apart, and eventually split. His father met an American woman, and they moved to Los Angeles; while his mother got together with a Patrick Swayze look-a-like who rag-rolled her walls.

They sold the family home to Ozzy and Sharon Osbourne, along with little Jack and baby Kelly, and the McIntyres moved to Golders Green. Michael and Lucy then had something of a double-life, spending holidays in LA with their father, doing and eating all things American, and attending school in England.

Then, out of nowhere, his father phoned to say that he could no longer afford to pay their school fees. To be suddenly thrust from public to state school was quite a culture shock.

It was while at Edinburgh university that McIntyre decided he wanted to be a film writer, however his first script called Office Angels never made it to the screen, despite its potential.

He knew he wanted to make people laugh for a living, and seeing live stand-up only confirmed it. Finally he made it onto the lowly Jongleurs circuit, occasionally getting the odd gig elsewhere.

However three weeks in Edinburgh for the Perrier awards ended disappointingly when he could not even sell a ticket. After parting company with his first agent, he managed to get in with Off the Kerb, who count Jonathan Ross, Lee Evans and Jack Dee among their clients.

The legendary agent Addison Cresswell got him a stint on the Royal Variety Performance, and we know the rest…apart from family life, of course.

His unorthodox courting methods of his wife-to-be, Kitty, their wedding, and the birth of their first son Lucas are all recounted with much affection and joy.

As a newly-married couple moving into their first home, there were the usual hurdles for Michael and Kitty, such as a shopping experience on eBay that can only be likened to the Stonehenge scene in This is Spinal Tap, and just as hilarious.

There is also an anecdote involving a cremation urn that I thought only happened in an episode of Frasier and seemed too ludicrous for real life.

Although McIntyre professes that he does not read, Life and Laughing is well written, eloquent, and of course, very funny. Yet there are poignant moments, such as the sudden death of his father, and his grandmother cutting him off after he introduced her to Kitty.

The photographs provide an extra insight, along with laugh-out-loud captions. I especially liked the one taken at Disneyland.

With hindsight, it is hard to imagine McIntyre as a struggling comedian. Even with his family connections, he still had to do it the hard way to get to the top. I know I’m not the only one who is glad he is there.

Back to the Future - 25th Anniversary Cinema Release

2010-10-06T10:33:00.003+01:00

After watching “Back to the Future” for the first time only a couple of years ago, I immediately went on iTunes and downloaded Huey Lewis and the News’ “The Power of Love”. I will admit that this song was my main motivation for wanting to see the 25-year-old movie on the cinema screen, so that I could hear the soundtrack blasting out through the powerful sound system.
It was worth the £3.25 entry fee.
The songs, both from the 50s and 80s, sounded marvellous, as did Alan Silvestri’s memorable score.
Iconic scenes we are so used to seeing on television looked even better on the big screen, like the first sighting of the DeLorean and the high school dance. The larger screen also allows for more detailed viewing. I never noticed the car’s “Outatime” number plate until yesterday.
A quarter of a century after its release, the humour is still fresh, the tension at the clock tower still unbearable. Even the special effects don’t look too dated in our “Avatar” generation.
The relationships between Michael J. Fox’s affable Marty McFly, his parents, and Christopher Lloyd’s manic Doc are still empathetic today.
Even if you’ve seen the trilogy umpteen times, own it on DVD yet still find yourself watching the showings on ITV4, it is still worth the effort to see at the cinema. It allows for a truly singular viewing, with no interruptions, no adverts, just a cinematic experience of a classic.
Can we have “Jurassic Park” re-released on the big screen next? Although if it’s going to be for the 20th anniversary I’m not sure I can wait until 2013.

Mortal Path: Sacrifice by Dakota Banks

2010-10-06T09:24:00.001+01:00

Article first published as Book Review: Dark Time: Sacrifice by Dakota Banks on Blogcritics.

In Sacrifice, the second of Dakota Banks' "Mortal Path" series, Maliha Crayne is continuing her quest to free herself from her demon's contract by saving as many lives as she has taken.
She is also trying to collect the seven shards of a lens that will enable her to read a tablet that will put an end to the demons' reign, as well as attempting to prevent the release of deadly toxins into the waters of Africa by a small council of power-seeking masterminds.
Talk about multi-tasking.
At least she is aided in her tasks by the help of her friends, who are a cabal of technological whizzes, superhumans and people with links to underworld and government activities. Yet she is without the help of the man she met in Dark Time and trusted as a friend: Jake Stackman has his own secrets to tell, but Maliha is not quite ready to hear them.
However, Maliha's progress is hindered by another Ageless being named Lucas, ordered by his demon to stop her getting her hands on the shards — although Lucas himself is starting to question his own loyalty to his demon, as well as his feelings for Maliha.
Her quest takes her across the United States, Europe and Africa, leading her on a trek along the Omo River, and involving her breaking into an underwater laboratory. She leaves a trail of devastation and death in her wake, which in turn brings back her own tortured memories of her previous life and the death of her own child.
While she feels these deaths all the more keenly, she has to carry out her task in the same frame of mind as an Ageless assassin. Her demon Rabishu even offers her that existence back, forcing Maliha to question what she truly wants.
Sacrifice is a whirlwind of action, emotion, passion and intrigue. Surprise and shock lurks on every other page. Like Dark Time it can be devoured hungrily. Sacrifice seems to eclipse its predecessor in both depth and plot. Dakota Banks has created a rare thing: a sequel that is as good as or better than the original.

Many thanks to Dakota Banks for sending me a copy of the book! :)

The Dead Boys by Royce Buckingham

2010-09-04T18:57:00.006+01:00

Article first published as Book Review: The Dead Boys by Royce Buckingham on Blogcritics.
When Teddy Matthews moves to Richland, Washington, with his mother, his main concern is making new friends. He finds that he meets and makes friends with a number of boys rather quickly, but no sooner has he met them than they disappear.
Teddy is also made to feel nervous by the dilapidated house across the road from his new home, and in particular by the large sycamore tree in the garden of the old house. While everything left unattended in Richland seems to be dried out by the desert that surrounds it, the tree is healthy and green...and moves of its own accord.
As Teddy investigates his new home-town, he learns of the shady history of the town’s nuclear power plant, where his mother now works, and was the reason for their relocation to the town in the desert. Built by the federal government after the Second World War, it was accused of releasing toxic substances into the atmosphere, creating health problems for the people and the land around Richland.
Following the leak, a number of twelve-year-old boys went missing at ten-year intervals. Now that Teddy has arrived in Richland, another decade is up. Will he be the next victim to disappear in this strange, shifting town?
It does not take Teddy long to work out the connection between the boys, the nuclear plant in Richland, and the source of the sycamore’s lifeblood. It takes Teddy even less time to realise that he has to stop the eerie tree from feeding. Soon he is fighting for his life against the tree and the boys he thought were his friends.
Royce Buckingham has once again created a creepy thriller for young readers. ‘The Dead Boys’ is an intelligent yet accessible chiller with a haunting underscore, and will leave its readers feeling like the tree: wanting more.

Sherlock

2010-08-08T23:11:00.003+01:00

Normally, one does not need almost superhuman capacity for observation to realise that taking a set of classic books involving a great literary character and transposing it to 2010 for a three-part television series tends to be a bad idea.
However, on learning that Mark Gatiss and current Doctor Who helmsman Steven Moffat are the brains behind the programme, one can deduct that it might not be the desecration one would expect. In fact, their re-imagining of Sherlock is about as classy as television gets.
Moving the action from Victorian London to 21st Century London appears to have no detrimental effect to the story or the characters. Although modern technology has a role, it is a small one, taking nothing away from simple detecting, and the show somehow feels like a Sherlock Holmes mystery.
Benedict Cumberbatch (isn’t that just the Best Name Ever?!) is the charismatic and enigmatic Sherlock Holmes, the man with the legendary powers of observation and deduction; while Martin Freeman shows his slightly more serious side as Doctor John Watson. This pairing makes for a delightful complement and contrast, with Cumberbatch as a classically elegant and refined Holmes, and Freeman as the weary yet willing former army doctor.
They are introduced by a mutual friend, who knows that Watson is looking for a flat, and Holmes is looking for a flatmate. After their first meeting in a morgue where Watson finds Holmes whipping a corpse, they combine to form the perfect Holmes-Watson duo.
Their first collaboration in “A Study in Pink” focuses on a number of apparent suicides, to which Sherlock is summoned by DI Lestrade (Rupert Graves) to cast his unique eyes over, and he soon realises they are anything but suicides. “The Blind Banker” is the mystery of the murders of two people just returned from a trip to China, from where one of them has unintentionally stolen a treasure that some would kill to own.
“The Great Game” is the complex finale to this frustratingly short first series, although mercifully it is left wide open for a second.
Despite the dark themes running through the episodes, there is plenty of light and dark humour to counter this; from the banter and domestic arguments between Holmes and Watson, to the quirks of Holmes and Watson’s reactions to them. Never before and never again will a severed head in a fridge be laugh-out-loud material.
The whole thing is an intelligently written, witty, entertaining, beautifully shot and exquisitely acted piece of television. Sherlock is a rare thing: a modern adaptation of a classic that actually works.

Inception

2010-08-03T20:02:00.001+01:00

After watching Inception, I must say I'm rather looking forward to dreaming tonight, although sadly my dreams tend not to involve Leonardo DiCaprio.
He stars as Cobb, a thief living in a time when it is possible to connect to another person's dreams. Cobb is enlisted by millionaire businessman Saito (Ken Watanbe) to lead a team into the mind of Robert Fischer (a perfectly sensitive Cillian Murphy) through his dreams, and plant the idea in his head to disband his dying father's company to rid Saito of any competition. However they must do this without Fischer knowing it is a dream, and making him think that it is his idea to break up the company. This concept is Inception.
Cobb convinces architect student Ariadne (Ellen Page) to design the locations of the dream, while Arthur manages the technology of connecting to dreams, Yusuf handles the driving, and Eames the strategy. It involves creating a dream within a dream within a dream, and from here it gets complicated.
Ariadne discovers another little problem: Cobb's dead wife, Mal, who appears to him in his dreams and urges him to join her, as he promised he would. When she was alive, while they were dreaming, Cobb had given her the idea of a reality in a dream, which she then set out to pursue, killing herself in the process and alienating Cobb from their young children.
If Cobb can make Fischer disband the company, Saito will ensure that Cobb is reunited with his children, but will Mal make things even more difficult for Cobb?
Inception is a conglomeration of all that a great movie should be: a unique plot, fine storytelling, stunning cinematography, all backed up with collectively good acting performances. Here, we are spoiled for choice. The effectively understated DiCaprio, Page and Murphy are given stellar support by Watanbe, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Tom Hardy and Marion Cotillard.
Director Christopher Nolan has delivered a fiendishly complex, unpredictable, and intelligent film. It baffles the mind and indulges the senses.
The more spectacular of the dream sequences involve Ariadne's vertical manipulation of skyscraper-lined streets, a fist fight in a rolling room, and Cobb and Mal's single-handedly-built dream city; all set to a dramatic yet subtle score by Hans Zimmer, with some help from Édith Piaf.
It is said that an hour in a dream is five minutes when awake. Inception certainly did not feel two and a half hours long; rather it whizzed by as though it was only twelve and a half minutes.

La Bête - Comedy Theatre - London

2010-07-30T20:45:00.000+01:00

In 2004, Friends ended, and David Schwimmer came to London to star in a play; in 2004, Sex and the City finished, and Kim Cattrall came to London to star in a play; also in 2004, Frasier left the building ...and no one came to London to star in a play.
But no more! David Hyde Pierce has made his West End debut in La Bête, starring as Elomire, the writer for a troupe of actors patronised by The Princess (Joanna Lumley). However, he resents her order that he is to work with a street actor named Valere (Mark Rylance), who is the most insufferable, insensitive, pretentious, clueless empty vessel that one can have the misfortune to meet. The Princess, however, thinks he is marvellous.
After reasoning and arguing, the only thing Elomire can do to convince the unpredictable Princess that Valere is a bad idea is to get her to watch him perform alongside her troupe, as he tends to play all the characters in his plays himself – sort of like Eddie Murphy. Will The Princess remain blind to his inferiority, or will a second viewing of his play open her eyes?
Set in 17th Century France, events occur in real time in Elomire’s study, which appears to be covered from floor to ceiling with Ikea’s black Billy bookcases holding innumerable volumes and tomes of books.
When a piece of falling masonry landed inches away from him, he carried on, unperturbed, so naturally we assumed it was part of the play to show the crumbling surroundings in which he lived, or to read more deeply, to symbolise the crumbling of the high culture that Elomire thrives on.
However, we found out later it was to show the crumbling of the Comedy Theatre, and had nothing to do with the play at all. Had it landed half a foot further into the stage, it could have been a nasty bump on the head for poor Mr Hyde Pierce.
Speaking of bumps on the head, Valere must surely have had some knock or fall on the noggin at some point in his life.
At least nowadays, actors with only air in their heads keep their mouths shut about high culture. Valere, on the other hand, does nothing but talk utter nonsense about it, in one particular scene for twenty minutes almost uninterrupted.
Where’s a piece of falling masonry when you need it?
When Valere jestingly offers Elomire a gag to shove in his mouth, and Elomire hesitantly reaches for it, it took all my self-restraint not to shout “Go on! Or I’ll do it for you!”
There is no interval in La Bête, although frankly we could have done with one after forty minutes in Valere’s extraordinary company, although fifteen minutes would hardly have been enough time for everyone to get to the bar to order a stiff drink.
Despite this, La Bête is toilet humour and slapstick mixed with verbal wit spoken in rhyming verse, which was genuinely hilarious. My stomach has not hurt that much from laughing since I saw Michael McIntyre last October.
Elomire’s finest moment comes with an impassioned rant against the desecration of high culture by popular culture, and I for one, agree with him.

Toy Story 3

2010-07-29T13:45:00.000+01:00

Well, if anything could traumatise children into not throwing out their old toys, this is it.
In Toy Story 3, Andy is now a teenager about to move to college, and his favourite toys have been living in a chest in his bedroom for years. Even Woody and Buzz have been relegated from Andy's pillow into the box.
In the middle of Andy's preparations to go to college, his mother asks him to sort his old toys. He picks only Woody to go in the box marked 'college', and although he goes to put the others in the attic, by some mix up, they find themselves on the kerb as the rubbish truck pulls up.
Woody, who had seen the mistake, goes to rescue his friends and tries to explain what had happened, but Jessie and Mr Potato Head are convinced that Andy meant to throw them out. Despite Woody's protests, the toys climb into a box destined for the local daycare centre, and Woody unintentionally finds himself going with them.
There they are met by Lotso, a big, strawberry-scented teddy bear, who makes them feel welcome and wanted; and they are given the tour by Ken (a delightfully camp Michael Keaton), who is oddly smitten with Barbie, and vice versa.
At first, Sunnyside Daycare looks to be a toy's dream come true: lots of children playing lovingly with them all day long. Yet Woody is keen to get back to Andy, and leaves. He does not get far when he is picked up by a little girl from the daycare centre named Bonnie, and she takes him home and plays with him.
Meanwhile, the toys in daycare realise that they have been put in the toddlers' room, and are subjected to nothing less than serial abuse when the tots come in to torture - I mean play with them. Buzz's request to Lotso to be transferred into the room with the older children is denyed, and when Buzz tries to fight, he is forcibly reset to Demo mode, turning him back into the space soldier and recruiting him to Lotso's dictatorship.
Back at Bonnie's house, Woody learns from one of her toys about the horrors at Sunnyside, and he immediately sets out to help his friends escape. Will they make it back to Andy's house? And even if they do, what will be their fate?
Although it has been eleven years since Toy Story 2, and much has changed for the toys in that time, watching the movie is like catching up with old friends. Everyone returns to reprise their character roles, Tom Hanks as Woody, Tim Allen as Buzz, Wallace Shawn as Rex. Even John Morris gives his voice to Andy for the third installment, as he did fifteen years ago in the first.
Again Pixar have delivered a wonderful family movie. I could not call this a childrens' movie because the adults in the packed auditorium seemed more emotionally involved than their kids. Indeed there is a most terrifying scene at the rubbish dump when it seems like the unthinkable is going to happen. I could not have been the only adult wiping away tears at this point, the whole scene was spectacularly handled.
For all the horrors of Sunnyside and the rubbish dump, there are still great moments of hilarity; Barbie and Ken for instance, Buzz's foreign language setting, and Bonnie's toys.
Toy Story 3 is again beautifully animated, but I failed to notice any 3D. Perhaps the only perceptible difference between 2D and 3D animation is the price and a red ridge on the nose from the glasses. Yet however you go and see it, whatever your age, Toy Story will once again entertain and enthrall.

Meat Loaf - Hang Cool Teddy Bear

2010-04-17T13:28:00.002+01:00

Meat Loaf is back! That distinctive, powerful voice returns with the new album, Hang Cool Teddy Bear. Bet you didn’t see that one coming. You soon will.
Based on a short story by Kilian Kerwin, it tells of a young soldier lying wounded in battle, and sees his life flashing forwards. The eye-catching title comes from a line in the movie Beyond the Valley of the Dolls.
Produced by Rob Cavallo, with songs by Justin Hawkins, Desmond Child, and John Michaels to name a few; and guests including Brian May, Steve Vai and Jack Black, Hang Cool Teddy Bear was destined to be a harder, edgier experience than any of the previous albums.
Meat Loaf’s voice is strong, clear, raw, smooth, soaring, once again taking us on a rollercoaster of emotion, even rivalling Justin Hawkins’ falsetto. The whole album is loud, rocking, bold, witty, funny, tenacious, and ballsy…literally.
Not since Bat II have I been so consistently amazed and impressed with so many songs on one album. I look forward to getting to know them better.
“Peace On Earth” sets the tone, theme and feel of what is to come: the album is one of dark, hard rock. It introduces us to the soldier, named Patrick, who just wants to go home.
“Living On The Outside” sees him urging his girlfriend to run away with him, with the assuring words: ‘I’ve got my mama’s smile and my daddy’s gun, you’ve got your honest face and your liar’s tongue’.
If “Los Angeloser” does not make you smile, or at least tap a toe, then you are either dead, in a coma, or have no sense of fun whatsoever. Since I downloaded the single on April 7th I’ve listened to it 42 times (according to iTunes). It is as feel good as “Summer of ‘69”, and as addictive as “Stand”.
“If I Can’t Have You” features a duet with American Idol judge Kara DioGuardi, and a piano accompaniment by Hugh Laurie. Yes, really. It comes with the kind of rocking, rolling chorus that I so enjoy but rarely find.
During “Love Is Not Real”, I was given a chill by the low rumble of Meat’s voice escalating into a soaring cry during the final ‘next time you stab me in the back you better do it to my face’ lyric. Indeed, the whole record is peppered with such spine-tingling vocals, many of them on this track alone.
“Like A Rose”, featuring Jack Black, has the kind of heavy-metal guitar sound that should theoretically see it comfortably on the next Guitar Hero instalment. It also contains lyrics that explained the “Explicit Content” label on the protective wrap of my vinyl copy of the album. Never thought I would see the day.
“Song Of Madness” is like a tortured mix of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah”, Alice In Wonderland, and Shakespeare, all set to a pounding rock soundtrack.
There is a respite, albeit a brief one, from the medley of instruments competing for airtime at the beginning of “Did You Ever Love Somebody”.
There is nothing in the opening few lines of “California Isn’t Big Enough For Me” to suggest what is about to come in the chorus. What comes is easily the most contentious lyric in Meat Loaf’s entire discography, so much so that in the following track, the haunting “Running Away From Me”, he seems to ask forgiveness for his plain speaking.
“Let’s Be In Love” is another duet with Patti Russo. Meat Loaf’s former lead female vocalist on tour, here her sultry voice is softer than in any of the concerts I have had the pleasure to witness, but no less stunning.
I suspect that “If It Rains” will become my favourite song on the album. ‘We’ll be in the street looking thunder in the face’ is hands down the best lyric within the best chorus.
Strangely, I found tears of nostalgia in my eyes on the final track, as it reminded me of my first concert in 2002, when I was fifteen. I may not have seen “Elvis In Vegas”, but I did see Meat Loaf in Liverpool.

Hang Cool Teddy Bear is released in the UK on Monday 19th April by Mercury Records.

Hang Cool Teddy Bear

Shutter Island

2010-03-16T19:57:00.002Z

“Shutter Island” is a sophisticated psychological thriller with more ambiguity than a Conservative policy pledge.
Martin Scorsese once again directs Leonardo DiCaprio as Teddy Daniels, a Federal US Marshal sent to investigate the disappearance of a criminally insane prisoner from the institution on Shutter Island. Daniels arrives by ferry to the island, along with his new partner Chuck Aule. I’m sure I can’t be the only one to find it ironic to see someone who once sailed on the Titanic feel queasy on a tiny boat just off Boston Harbor.
On their arrival, they are taken to meet Doctor Cawley (Ben Kingsley), who is remarkably PC for 1954, preferring to refer to those housed here as “patients” rather than “prisoners”, and who believes that rather than lobotomising or drugging his patients, respecting and listening to them will give them more benefit.
However Daniels, who served in the Second World War and is still carrying his own trauma from the experience, is suspicious of the German Doctor Naehring. Daniels is also failing to come to terms with the death of his wife, Dolores (Michelle Williams), who turns up in all of his dreams. Nothing there to render him insane, then.
DiCaprio again proves that he has come a long way from the pretty boy image of over a decade ago, and is now a seriously fine actor. His intensity and emotion kept a rather well-populated afternoon cinema crowd silently enthralled for the whole two hours and twenty minutes
Shot with the familiar and welcome Scorsese finesse, with stunning yet subtle cinematography, and a soundtrack that combines Mahler with a Jaws-like theme, “Shutter Island” is a film of conflict and contrast, of fire and water - lots of water - , madness and sanity, chaos and calm, opulence and destitution. It seems to highlight the complexity and ingenuity of the human brain, no matter how distorted the mind may seem.
Yet it also shows the terrifying darkness that can manifest itself in anything from the murder of an unfaithful husband to genocide in a death camp. It does not answer the question of what makes this happen, rather it is left up to the viewer to wonder, which only makes the movie all the more eerie, and is just one aspect which will ensure the viewer is still thinking about “Shutter Island” long after the credits have started rolling.

Alice in Wonderland

2010-03-07T18:55:00.002Z

Tim Burton’s "Alice in Wonderland" is yet another example of the director’s flair for the telling of gothic fairy tales. Aesthetically stunning, with a haunting score by Danny Elfman, even if at times it sounded a bit like a recycled version of the music from "Charlie and the Chocolate" Factory.
Yet, visually pleasing as "Alice" is, she seemed to lack the charm of "Charlie". Despite this, she still managed to keep everyone in Screen 3 of the Sunderland Empire quiet for two hours, which is no mean feat even for Harry Potter.
Mia Wasikowska was a cool, ethereal Alice, nineteen years old, unsure of herself and her future. She falls back down the rabbit hole, where her old companions insist she must slay the Jabberwocky so that the White Queen can overthrow the tyrannous rule of her evil sister, the Red Queen. Unsurprisingly, she is no less enamoured with this destiny than the one that awaits her above ground: a marriage proposal from the snooty, snotty Lord Hamish.
Johnny Depp, as ever, is on delightfully ludicrous form as the Mad Hatter, whose accent alternates between Sweeney Todd and Rab C. Nesbitt. Once again, in this Burton-Depp collaboration, the dark history of Depp’s character is explored.
Helena Bonham Carter once again lets her husband give her an ugly makeover. This time, in her role as the Red Queen, she sports an abnormally enormous head perched on top of her tiny body, her face done up like a porcelain doll. She almost reminded me of Yubaba in "Spirited Away".
Anne Hathaway was a ghostly vision as the White Queen, dressed head to toe in white, apart from her lips, which were black (or at least looked black on the unusually dark cinema screen). Yet I wonder why she had to walk around with her hands up by her shoulders, it just made her look as though she was skimming the clothes racks in TK Maxx.
Alan Rickman as the caterpillar and Stephen Fry as a creepy but helpful Cheshire cat were the highlights of the voice casting. Barbara Windsor as the feisty dormouse and Matt Lucas as the Tweedles also deserve honourable mentions.
The battle scene, set on a giant chessboard, made my mouth drop open more than once. Yet the shots of the lovable characters like the Hatter and White Rabbit stepping forward to do battle seemed almost as wrong as the young boys taking up arms for the battle of Helm’s Deep in "The Two Towers".
Full marks to Colleen Atwood for her gorgeous costumes. I envied every single dress that Alice wore, and even the one cobbled together from the curtains in the Red Queen’s castle looked like something from the Joe Brown’s catalogue.
Whimsical, fantastical, dark and comic, it is still good entertainment value. If you do go to see it in 3D, just watch out for the Jabberwocky’s tail.

On Expenses

2010-02-26T00:03:00.002Z

Half an hour into “On Expenses”, Heather Brooke, the American journalist living in Britain who exposed the scandal, asks herself “Why do I live here?!”. I’d been wondering that myself for the previous twenty nine minutes.
So infuriated is she with the British culture of privacy, so disillusioned with the blinkered, Orwellian manner in which we poor Brits have to live, it was a marvel she didn’t just jump on the first plane back to the Land Of The Free. But no, she wanted a Pulitzer.
As the Freedom of Information Act is made law, Brooke publishes a book on the kind of information that is now publicly available. To prove her point, she tries to gain access to the more detailed accounts of MP’s expenses. Time and again, she is refused her request on the grounds of privacy.
Her main obstacle is the then Speaker Michael Martin. Here he is shown as trying to do what he feels is his job, protecting the House’s integrity, although the fact they enjoy their cushty lifestyles maybe had an impact on his decisions. “On Expenses” takes us through from his election as Speaker by his fellow MPs, to his resignation against a wall of disgust from the same people who chose him, as their dirty laundry is hung out to dry.
Anna Maxwell Martin portrayed Brooke as a pushy, determined, no nonsense type. She did it so well I found myself rooting for the MPs. Frankly, from the opening moments in which she is seen dancing to “Fame” in front of a mirrored wall, I could tell we weren’t going to get along.
It was only when Neil Pearson as her barrister Hugh Tomlinson held the Commons Administration to account that her argument held any sway, but even that scene only lasted two minutes.
The whole programme plays like a comedy, almost an extended episode of “Yes, Minister”. Everything from the absurd claims, to the pathetic attempts by the Administration to justify their stance, to every prophetic word uttered by Martin proving to be completely wrong made me laugh. I had a smile on my face all the time watching it, although it turned into a grimace whenever Brooke opened her mouth.
Brian Cox made for a marvellous Michael Martin. Perhaps they went a bit over the top when he is first shown playing the bagpipes with a Celtic scarf laid neatly on the chair behind him. He’s Scottish, then? The thick Glaswegian accent was also a clue.
Director Simon Cellan Jones manages to get some beautiful and different shots of the Palace of Westminster. The best being a close-up of Martin’s office window as he plays his bagpipes at night, the lights on the outside of the building throwing the detail of the architecture into stunning contrast.
Shame this programme was relegated to BBC4. It could have had an airing at least on BBC2, for those without digital television. Certainly it made for a diverting, if not baffling hour’s entertainment.

The Lovely Bones

2010-02-23T19:03:00.000Z

Great. Now I have to read “The Lovely Bones”. Not to compare it to the movie, but to get some answers as to what happened in the movie and why.
On her way home from an after-school film club, Susie Salmon is lured into an underground hideout by George Harvey, and somewhere between there and Harvey’s house, she is murdered by him. Susie is trapped in a middle place between earth and heaven, where she meets other young girls who were victims of Harvey.
One of the girls, who calls herself Holly Golightly, tries to persuade Susie to move forward, but Susie stays where she is, where she watches her family deal with their loss. To be honest, they don’t do it very well, or as a family.
Her father opens his own investigation, suspecting everyone in the neighbourhood except the guilty party. His obsession drives his wife to move to Brazil, leaving her now unstable husband to look after Susie’s younger sister and even younger brother.
Susie see-saws between a delayed reaction of vengeance against Harvey, and having a blast in the inbetween with Holly where only their imaginations limit what they can do.
The movie starts well enough, gets confused in the middle, and the ending left me completely unsatisfied, posing more questions than answers. Coming from the same directing and writing team as the glorious “Lord of the Rings” trilogy, this just seems empty and bland in comparison.
As so often happened with “The Lord of the Rings movies”, when a scene stayed on a group of characters in one place, then moved to another group in another place entirely, you almost had to remind yourself that yes, those characters are still in. Oh yes, I forgot about Susie. Yet here it was not because the previous scene had been so emotionally stirring and the characters so involving.
A general problem with the characters is that no one talks to each other. I’ve seen people give up information quicker in “24”.
Saoirse Ronan as Susie is the best thing about the movie, but she is left to run around in what is nothing more than an overly-prettified CGI purgatory. Mark Wahlberg and Rachel Weisz as Susie’s parents do what they can with the lacklustre script that barely seems to scratch the surface of the trauma of losing a child. Susan Sarandon as the grandmother hardly acknowledged Susie’s absence. Stanley Tucci’s Harvey was genuinely creepy, but that is all.
The one thing I am sure of after watching “The Lovely Bones”, is that “The Hobbit” can’t come quick enough.

"A View from the Foothills" by Chris Mullin

2010-02-20T11:06:00.002Z

Of all the recently published political diaries, it may seem odd that the first yours truly chose to read were those of Chris Mullin. That is, until you discover that he is my local MP in Sunderland South, and has had various roles within government relating to rather memorable government policy.
“A View from the Foothills” covers the period between 1999 and 2005. From Mullin’s personally perceived demotion to the Department of Environment, Transport and the Regions, all the way through to Blair announcing the handover of power.
Mullin’s career during this time saw him move from the DETR to the Department for International Development, back to the Home Affairs Select Committee along with David Cameron, and finally to the Foreign Office.
As well as covering issues within national and international government, Mullin also talks about happenings in Sunderland. It felt strange to be reminded that Debenhams has been open nearly eleven years, and I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the only notable difference in the issue of dumping sewage into the River Thames and the River Wear: that in London they treated the sewage first.
He speaks of the city of Sunderland and its people with a warm, at times resigned affection, and is full of hope and optimism for the future of its development. There are many colourful and varied characters that inhabit his world, in Sunderland as well as Westminster, including one constituent who thought he had solved the problem of global warming with the help of a pigeon. A dead pigeon. That he thoughtfully brought along to the surgery with him.
What really struck me was the sense of powerlessness to help those who come to his surgeries. He notes that his best successes have been helping people get out of Sunderland; good people are forced to leave while the hooligans continue to terrorise and their landlords do nothing.
One particularly heart-rending case was that of a couple and their young facing deportation back to Ukraine via Spain. The small family had integrated themselves into the local church community, the little boy was flourishing at school; yet they were taken early in the morning and sent packing to London. When they finally got to Spain, despite the paperwork, letters and money forwarded to the Spanish authorities by Mullin, no one was expecting them.
After their disappearance was discovered by an Immigration officer, a family friend later found a letter written by the little boy, bequeathing his possessions to the pastor’s children. It read like a will.
All this just makes one wonder why it is impossible to help the steadfast citizens. Were I to run for Parliament tomorrow, I would base my policies on the experiences of people in this book. Why is this happening? How can it be stopped?
Yet amid all this, there are plenty amusing scenes that would be dismissed as too far-fetched even for "Yes, Minister", like hiding from the Queen Mother, Tony Benn nearly setting fire to the Mullin house, a mix-up of foreign ambassadors, a bumbled photo opportunity with Nelson Mandela, and the MP for Sunderland North leaving his bag in the toilet of a train the day after the Madrid train bombings. At one stage I was asked if I was reading a comedy book. I replied that I was reading my local MP’s political diaries, and 9/11 had just happened.
In the aftermath, although Blair tried to restrain Bush as Parliament focused on what could lie ahead for Afghanistan, it seemed inevitable that Britain would get drawn in with the Americans. Reports and opinions of Bush’s character were as contradictory, derisive and divisive as they come. These discussions and mentions of Bush almost put me in mind of Maris in "Frasier" in which all the foibles, fads and whims of the character are talked about, but the person is never actually seen…that is, until the 20th November 2003.
Even though I knew that the war would be declared on the 19th March 2003 (my birthday), the days leading up to the vote were incredibly tense. One cannot imagine what it must have been like within the corridors of Westminster, being harangued by government whips to vote with the Party policy.
Mullin’s decision to vote against the war was clearly one that caused him great anguish. Unwilling to vote for it unless there was a second UN resolution, which never came, unwilling to show disloyalty to Blair, yet unwilling to go against his principles and promises.
It is evident that Mullin has huge respect for Blair, and he shows us why. Blair is ever the professional, always ready to partake in meetings and give his attention to matters even after whistle stop trips to Washington or other long-haul destinations. I didn’t know whether to admire him or loathe him when he convinced Jean Corston to toe the Party line on the Iraq war in the final hours before the vote. She too had been privately agonising over what to do, but was more inclined to vote against.
Brown on the other hand, is another matter entirely. Mullin notes that all of Labour’s unwelcome or failed policies can be traced back to the then Chancellor. He comes across as a rather sinister, scheming, paranoid character; and relations between him and Blair grew so bad that there was even talk that it might have been better had Brown ran in 1994 and lost.
Even the blustering John Prescott is given a better reputation by Mullin. True, he could put his foot in his mouth and the department ran more smoothly in his absence, but he is portrayed as human with an “e” on the end.
As for Mullin, he is as I think of him: principled, honest, modest, much more focused on making a difference than power or luxuries. He even refuses the basic staple of a Ministerial car, preferring to take the bus. His integrity will be sorely missed when he stands down at the coming election.
He has hinted at publishing the diaries he kept either side of 1999 and 2005. I await them eagerly.

Ponyo

2010-02-16T20:29:00.001Z

“Ponyo” is the latest Japanese animation from the reliable combination of Studio Ghibli and Hayao Miyazaki.
Loosely based on The Little Mermaid, a five year old boy named Sosuke rescues a small fish when it becomes trapped inside a glass jar in the waters beside his home. Only this fish has the face of a girl. When Sosuke cuts himself on the jar, the fish licks his blood and heals his wound.
Sosuke takes the fish home and names her Ponyo, but she is quickly recaptured by her father, the wizard Fujimoto, who lives under the sea and tries to keep the balance of nature. All rather difficult when your daughter is as powerful as Ponyo.
Despite his warnings that there will be a great tsunami should she return to land, Ponyo grows herself arms and legs, and all her tiny siblings help her escape. Ponyo’s arrival brings about a spectacular storm, and she goes in search of Sosuke, running on tempestuous waves made out of her fishy family. She sees Sosuke riding in his mother’s car on their way home from the senior citizen’s centre where his mother works, and follows them, making their journey along the winding coastal road even more treacherous.
Ponyo finally catches them up as they arrive home, and although it takes a moment for Sosuke to recognise her, she is readily welcomed by his mother, Lisa. As the storm still rages outside, Lisa worries for her elderly patients. However when the storm calms after Ponyo falls asleep, she decides to go back to them, leaving her incredibly mature and responsible son in charge.
Meanwhile, out at sea, the boat on which Sosuke’s father Koichi is based, comes across a terrifying sight in the aftermath of the storm. An unexplained horizon of pretty lights against an unrecognisable mountain range turn out to be all the ships that were on the water, and are now without power; and behind them, a wall of water, pulled up into the air by the gravity of an unnaturally close moon. The boats are rescued by the goddess of the water, who also happens to be Ponyo’s mother.
The next morning, when Lisa still has not arrived home, Sosuke and Ponyo set out to look for her. Ponyo uses her magic to make a toy boat big enough for them to ride in, although it soon becomes clear that her magic is wearying her.
Ponyo’s mother and father meet and discuss what to do with their daughter. They agree to set Susoke a test to decide her fate.
Perhaps one of the strongest aspects of Miyazaki’s work is that no characters are black or white. No one is a one-dimensional baddie. Fujimoto is no pantomime villain.
Although after providing the voice of Ponyo’s mother, I have to wonder how many more roles as an ethereal, mythical being Cate Blanchett will accumulate in her career. I feel that she and Matt Damon as Koichi were rather underused.
Tina Fey made a lovely mother as Lisa, one who would be furious at her husband for not coming home from work one second, rolling around with her son the next, and cooking for a strange, yet pretty little girl who had just emerged from the sea the next.
Sosuke and Ponyo made for an adorable couple. Their friendship and love as pure and innocent as they come.
Once again, the Holy Trinity of Ghibli, Miyazaki, and composer Joe Hisaishi have produced a warm, charming story where mythology and fantasy is mixed with reality. It will keep the kids quiet for more than five minutes during the half term.

Whisper of the Heart

2010-02-15T14:44:00.001Z

If ever there was a movie character that I could identify with, I have only just met her. In “Whisper of the Heart”, Shizuku Tsukishima is a teenage girl with no grand ambitions. Rather than studying for her exams, she is always reading books or writing lyrics, just “goofing around”.
She lives in a tiny, cramped apartment with her parents and older sister in Tokyo, where she is tired of her mundane existence and all the concrete that surrounds her.
On one of her many trips to the library where her father works, she discovers that all the books she is reading have previously been loaned to the same boy: Seiji Amasawa. Shizuku imagines him to be a sensitive, thoughtful person, so she is horrified to discover that he is in fact a boy she had met before and thought him to be a “jerk”.
One day, on her way to take her father his lunch at the library, she follows a mysterious cat who sits beside her on the train. He leads her to a posh neighbourhood, where she follows him into an antique shop. Inside, she is fixated by a beautiful statue of a cat, standing upright and dressed in top hat and tails. The elderly owner of the shop tells her that the statue is known as The Baron, and that there is a story in The Baron’s past.
She realises she is late, and has to leave with a promise to return. En route to the library, she runs into Seiji, and still thinks he is a jerk. However, she meets him again at the antique shop, where his grandfather is the owner. There she realizes that he is a sensitive, thoughtful person. Seiji’s ambition is to become a master violin maker, but he will have to go to Italy to learn his trade.
Shizuku gradually comes to accept that she loves him, but she feels inadequate because she does not know what to do with her life. Her once good school grades have begun to slide, she no longer takes the same pleasure from reading that she once did. She misses her old self and wants to prove to herself that she is good enough for Seiji, who is going to Italy for a two month trial at a relative’s violin shop.
Always encouraged by her friends about her writing, she decided to write a story, and asks Seiji’s grandfather if she can write about The Baron. He agrees, as long as she lets him read the story first. Shizuku works hard on her story, so hard that her schoolwork suffers even more. She wants to leave school after junior high and concentrate on achieving her new ambition of becoming a writer.
Directed by Yoshifumi Kondo, and with a screenplay by Hayao Miyazaki, “Whisper of the Heart” is a charming, touching love story that shows that inspiration does not have to be close to be effective, that it can come from unexpected places. Seiji even shows Shizuku that the concrete skyscrapers of Tokyo can be beautiful.
As we have come to expect from Studio Ghibli, the animation, backgrounds, and attention to detail are stunning. Yuji Nomi’s soundtrack is the final exquisite layer to this inspiring movie.
I myself have someone who inspires me, who I admire for being so brave and determined to go to a foreign country to learn his trade at a young age. As someone who has never had ambitious plans for life, I can only respect and look up to someone who has. He doesn’t even know I exist, but he doesn’t have to.
Lately I have made half-hearted attempts to do what I want in life, but “Whisper of the Heart” has made me physically ache for my own small ambitions to come true. I am genuinely shocked at how much this gentle story has shaken me. Yet it did so because it held up a mirror.
Like Shizuku, I can write, and like her, I have to try hard to find the little gems inside me, and polish them until they shine.

The Seeker in Forever by Alan Fox

2010-02-11T14:45:00.000Z

What do you get when you combine the political oppression of Orwell with the escapist fantasy of Tolkien? You get Alan Fox’s “The Seeker in Forever”. Set in a dreamscape America, it tells the story of Miles Roark, a sidewinder, an outsider, trying to halt the rise of Cinjun Khan Smythe, who is on the brink of becoming the most powerful man in America.
Yet it is also a story about love, and the relationship between Miles and fellow outsider Daphne Fox is subtle yet strong. Due to this added dynamic, at times the characters play like love songs, and when they do, Fox’s writing takes the reader to a place that is otherworldly, ethereal.
Rather than being an ‘us versus them’ theme, “The Seeker in Forever” is ‘insider versus outsider’, and so will still be relevant and identifiable no matter what decade, century or country we are living in. Many of the acts in the story can in some way, however subliminally and tenuously, be linked to political events throughout history.
There is a fascinating scene in which Miles stands outside Cinjun’s office building, calmly talking to the passers-by about love, truth and freedom, something they will be denied by Cinjun. It is a ‘Sermon on the Mount’ without being preachy. Instead of having Miles arrested, or even acknowledging him, Cinjun simply ignores him.
This scene is a wonderful example of the two men’s characters. Cinjun the overconfident, untouchable politician; and Miles the charismatic, determined and persistent leader. It shows how secure Cinjun feels in his position that he does not have Miles arrested, that he does not see him as a threat; yet at the same time it seems contrary to the ethos of Cinjun’s policies.
Their final confrontation takes place inside a huge public arena, the Pleasuredome. Although far from being your average political debate, in some way it seemed to echo reality when Tony Blair took to the chair during the Iraq war enquiry, only without the epic majesty of the Pleasuredome battle.
“The Seeker in Forever” is a turbulent whirlwind of passion that takes the reader on a rollercoaster without a safety harness. Fox’s unique, beautiful and unforgettable manner of storytelling means that the reader will need to be prepared for their mind to bend quite erratically if they are to fully comprehend and take pleasure in the experience.

Australian Open 2010 - 4th Round - Murray v Isner

2010-01-24T20:25:00.000Z

Patience is a virtue, and Andy Murray certainly utilized it in his fourth round match against 6’9” American John Isner. Murray has never been past the fourth round in Melbourne, so the prospect of the best returner in the game going up against one of the best servers in the game was more than tantalising.
Murray has been guilty of going for a brief, mental walkabout during his last three matches, but from the off, he looked razor sharp, and was unfazed by the barrage of laser-guided missiles being pelted at him from Isner’s racket. Murray slowed his first serve down, and in doing so made it far more consistent than in previous rounds. He was the one holding to love while slowly making inroads during Isner’s service games.
As Murray began to tame Isner’s big weapon, he also exposed the American’s mobility issues with the drop shot, and catching him out with slices aimed at Isner’s shoelaces.
A tense first set gave both players only one unconverted break point each. At 5-6, Murray served to take it to a tiebreak, but forgot his game-plan of slowing the first serve to get it in. Predictably, faults crept in, and he soon found himself in trouble, but managed to serve himself out of it.
The Scot took the first mini-break to go 3-2 up, but lost the next point. He held the next, and then took the next two points from Isner’s serve, earning two set points. Isner saved one, but Murray rarely needs asking twice to do anything on a tennis court, and secured the set on the next.
Murray pressed harder in the second set, getting more chances to break than the first, but failing to convert. Instead of letting it fester in his mind, he waited patiently. It would come. At 4-4, it did. Yet once again, Murray went for bigger serves that missed, and once again had to serve himself out of a hole to take the second set.
The uncharacteristically muted Aussie crowd were finally roused to life at 2-2 in the third set. Isner was serving at 0-30, by now unable to get as many cheap points from aces. A Murray lob proved an easy smash for Isner, but Murray sprinted back across the width of the court and leaped into the air to send the ball back to a startled Isner, who could only dump it in the net.
This set up three break points for Murray, who only needed the one with a stunning backhand down the line hit from the shadows at the back of the court and outside the tramlines. Even Isner’s coach could only doff his hat to Murray’s skill.
A Murray hold was followed by another break of the Isner serve, and Murray served the match out, finishing once again with a gorgeous drop shot.
The first week of the Open has been a promising taster of what we can expect from Murray’s game this year. More forays into the net, a flatter and faster forehand, and a more proactive approach all around. His low winners count in this match was down to his opponent’s wingspan covering the whole court, and tempered by the huge number of errors from Isner.
Murray’s slam record last year had been tarnished by on-form players with big forehands and big serves. Perhaps this match will be the concrete proof that he can beat such players. Isner was the biggest test Murray has faced so far, and there will be bigger threats to come. If Murray can play another three matches like this…

"The Girl Made of Cool" by Alan Fox

2009-12-11T20:00:00.000Z

“The Girl Made of Cool” is a subtle, harsh, intelligent story of a love triangle between three friends, and is the second novel by Alan Fox.

A young man and woman arrive home from a night out together. Having only recently met, this was their first formal date. It was all going so well until the young man starts to tell the truth. Having well and truly scared her away, Ridley turns to his friend and housemate, Chet Clifford, for advice. Chet is successful, suave, and handsome. I hated him at once. His teaching Ridley how to make moves on a girl was cringe worthy, as it was not Ridley’s style at all. Chet also does something so jaw-droppingly bizarre when he is alone that I will not even attempt to begin to describe it.

Ridley Richardson is the anti-Chet: academic, geeky, and poetic. His “Girl Made of Cool” speeches are much more romantic than Chet’s crotch-to-crotch dancing. He is an intriguing person, full of wonder; and his creativity with words and imagery seem to go hand in hand with a logic that allows him to put together ideas like non-adjoining pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, and still make them fit.

The object of Chet and Ridley’s affection, Jayne Holly Wyatt, initially seemed to me more frosty than cool. Other than her being pretty it was hard to pinpoint why the two men pursue her. Her manipulation of Chet, although thoroughly deserved in my opinion, still did not endear her to me. Evidently Ridley sees something hidden in her that is worth fighting for, that maybe he can bring to the surface; and it is because of this that I was cheering for Ridley to win her. Does he? Only one way to find out.

I was also fascinated to see how the relationships between the three central characters evolved over time, and it is this dynamic that keeps the reader involved. The roles of honesty switch as the characters mature and grow to know one another better.

My favourite of the three stories is “Hell Has Blue Skies”, an amusing and exacerbic account of a young graduate struggling to make an impression in an unusual and demanding line of business. Jack Flynn is initially keen to change the image of the business as one full of crazy people, but soon his only choice is whether to try and beat them, or simply join them.

“The Lovely Lady at the Love Museum” is a witty tale of a young man pulling a long con on a major real estate billionaire in New York City. Yet Reed Fleming is not a professional con-artist, rather he uses his knowledge gleaned from a degree in anthropology to help him achieve his aims.

Fox shows us exactly why he is regarded as an expert in the field of storytelling. “The Girl Made of Cool” is far from your average love story. Instead it highlights the two very different interpretations of love that Chet and Ridley embody, and through Ridley. gives it an almost ethereal atmosphere, and even shows where love belongs in our universe.

Undone by Karin Slaughter

2009-10-13T16:10:00.007+01:00

Undone may be Karin Slaughter’s seventh book in her Grant County series, but it is the first for yours truly. I am now sorely tempted to go and read the rest.
Undone sees Faith Mitchell and Will Trent investigating a grisly case of kidnap and torture, after a young, successful, mutilated and naked woman blindly runs out into the oncoming path of an elderly couple’s car. Sara Linton is the doctor who tends to the woman when she is brought into the hospital.
All three characters are dealing with their own personal issues while attempting to solve the case. Will soldiers on in the police force, trying to keep his illiteracy a secret from everyone except Faith, who is herself coming to terms with two sudden health matters of her own. Sara, meanwhile, carries a letter around in her coat pocket, wondering whether to open it.
As the case progresses, three more women of similar looks and lifestyle go missing. Faith and Will are hindered in their investigations by the fact that none of the girls were liked or loved, apart from two children between the four of them.
Slaughter imparts such intimately morbid details into the torture of the girls that one has to read a sentence twice to ensure that they got it right the first time. Although grisly, it is far from gratuitous, and Slaughter writes with empathy towards the plight of the girls. There is even some dark humour thrown in for good measure.
I did not have to have read any of the previous Grant County novels to understand the characters or the story, I could just jump straight in. Slaughter does not fleetingly refer to events in Faith or Will’s history that leaves the reader wishing they had read the other six books first, nor does she regale us with the intricate details of each of her main characters. Instead she lets us work them out for ourselves, and leaves little signposts as to what their lives have involved. Yet with Sara she does give us more, and deservedly so.
Undone can surely sit proudly alongside the rest of Karin Slaughter’s books, and confirms her as one of America’s best crime thriller writers.

Twenties Girl by Sophie Kinsella

2009-10-13T16:10:00.006+01:00

A word of warning, and I know this from personal experience: do not read Sophie Kinsella’s Twenties Girl while eating, unless you are around someone who can perform the Heimlich manoeuvre. I was lucky this time.
From the second page, Twenties Girl is laugh out loud funny, poking gentle fun at everyday annoyances like family, the elder generation’s paranoia over modern technology, and funerals. Yes, I said funerals. It was a line within the first twenty-two pages during a funeral that nearly packed me off to my own.
The memorial service in question is that of Lara Lington’s great-aunt Sadie, who has just died at the age of one hundred and five, and this seems to be all that the family know about her. However, when Sadie appears to Lara in the middle of the service as a twenty three year old ghost, Lara quickly learns that her relative was not just some old lady who liked knitting.
Lara is coerced by Sadie to halt the funeral, and accuse the kindly nurses at her care home of murder, all so that Sadie can find a necklace. However this is just the start of Lara’s humiliation at Sadie’s hands. Yet, having a ghost around can prove to be fruitful for Lara, too; and she and Sadie are quickly pairing up on matters of love, work and revenge.
During her quest to find Sadie’s necklace, Lara uncovers a family secret that proves her great aunt was not simply someone famous for receiving birthday cards from the Queen.
Sadie is a feisty, tenacious, strong willed, opinionated woman who knows how to have a good time, and will go to any lengths to have one. She and Lara exchange amusing banter on everything from fashion, music and television, and shows that although the elder generations may not care for the current trends, even their twenty year old selves would not have approved.
Joyously heart-warming and hilarious one moment, guiltily heart-breaking and tearful the next, and sometimes both at the same time, Twenties Girl is a delightfully witty story with a moral centre. I’m off to track down the rest of Kinsella’s novels.

The Sentinels: Fortunes of War by Gordon Zuckerman

2009-10-13T16:10:00.005+01:00

The Sentinels: Fortunes of War by Gordon Zuckerman is a World War II story with a difference. Instead of focusing on Hitler or the persecuted Jews, Zuckerman weaves an intelligent tale of six super-wealthy, super-clever economics students who come up with a plan to prevent the War from escalating any further.
Cecelia Chang, Claudine Demaureux, Tony Garibaldi, Ian Meyer, Jacques Roth and Mike Stone formulate a strategy to take money out of the pockets of the German industrialists who are prolonging the War and initiating their own schemes for their own financial benefit.
With the six of them living across three continents, they must work together and on their own in order to make this happen; something that is given an extra edge considering that they live in a world without mobile phones or email. However when the German industrialists realise that something is wrong, the six sentinels must call on their familial and political ties, as well as their own guile and survival skills.
The characters are strong, faulty, yet clever, and despite them all being rich and intelligent, they are also likeable, their dedication and determination to carry out their plan is admirable.
Fortunes of War skilfully entwines political drama, dangerous romance, riveting action, and set against a well-worn historical background while giving it a fresh look. However in some places the book seems to move too quickly. One sentence following on from another can be a leap of months, which seems to simultaneously take away the urgency of what the sentinels are trying to do, while feeling as though there was a lot more in between.
Setting the time-warps aside, Fortunes of War is a gripping political thriller that rewrites the World War II genre. If you think you’ve covered every possible angle on this period of history, think again.

The Shiksa Syndrome by Laurie Graff

2009-10-13T16:10:00.004+01:00

Laurie Graff’s The Shiksa Syndrome is a witty, lively rom-com that tells of Aimee Albert’s struggle to attract a nice, Jewish man, until one mistakes her for a non-Jewish woman - a shiksa. Josh Hirsch’s anti-Oedipal feelings towards Jewish women and his affection for Aimee lead her to keep up the charade of being a shiksa. She empties her Manhattan apartment of menorahs and Torahs, and even has to skip a Passover ritual to accommodate him; in the hope that he will soon introduce and ‘convert’ her to the Jewish traditions.
Meanwhile, her shiksa friend Krista lands a Jewish companion, and soon it is Krista who is being welcomed into the Jewish community. Aimee has to dig deeper and deeper in order to maintain the pretence of being a non-Jew, even having to disown her parents and sister while in Josh’s presence. As her situation becomes ever more outrageous and whirling out of her control, she is forced to decide whether she holds Josh or her identity in higher esteem.
Although on the surface, Aimee seems foolish for even temporarily sidestepping around her cultural identity to appease a man, she is nonetheless a smart, intelligent woman who can think on her toes. She manages to fit her alter-ego around the loss of her boyfriend on 9/11, while heading a major product launch at work, and trying to overcome her fear of driving.
For those who are wondering just why this Josh is worth all the effort, it is he who helps her exorcise her driving demons in his big BMW with heated seats.
Graff’s novel offers a sparkling insight into the traditions and values of the Jewish faith, as well as giving gentle nudges to the little clichés that go with it: the logic, the guilt, and the women. Yet it also raises the question about staying true to one’s identity, one’s faith in difficult circumstances; and this is talking Jews in New York, not Protestants under Queen Mary.

Mortal Path Book One: Dark Time by Dakota Banks

2009-10-13T16:09:00.001+01:00

In the seventeenth century, a young mother-to-be is accused of witchcraft, and burned at the stake. As the flames engulf her body, a demon of the underworld hears her longing to wreak vengeance on the woman who accused her, and offers her an ultimatum: death, or life as his assassin.
Three hundred years later, Mahlia Crayne is getting tired, sick of murdering innocent people at the behest of the demon. Yet she manages to find a way to break out of her sentence: for every life taken, should she save another, she will be released. Of course the small print makes this more difficult for her. As well as being robbed of her superhuman speed and strength, she will also age faster than she had previously. Her time is running short.
Fear not, she does not turn into a girl scout, pulling old ladies out of the way of oncoming lorries, and stopping babies in their prams from rolling down a long flight of steps. Saving a life can often mean taking another.
Maliha is a mix of Lara Croft and a human Terminator, she would be marvellous in a video game. She is also a strong character in any book. The real heart of the story lies in Mahlia’s past, at what she lost; her husband, her baby, her life. Now she is living in our present, moving with the times, making herself comfortable, creating a public identity for herself with a career that brings in a lot of money, and educating herself.
She tries to have some semblance of normality by having close friends, but living in an apartment with a security system that puts Fort Knox to shame makes it slightly difficult. Add to that her constantly youthful looks raise a few eyebrows.
In Dark Time, Dakota Banks combines daredevil action, poignant romance, the past, the present, the paranormal, all infused with modern technology. It is the first in a series of books that looks set to be a strong, intriguing storyline, and I intend to find out what happens at the end.

Hedge Fund Wives by Tatiana Boncompagni

2009-05-21T18:58:00.003+01:00

Tatiana Boncompagni’s "Hedge Fund Wives" is the story of Marcy Emerson. When her husband John is promoted to be a big-time hedge-fund manager, she quits her job and moves to New York with him to start their new life. However, she finds it difficult to fit into their new social circle of wealthier, snootier hedge fund wives. Against the backdrop of the US recession, while their new colleagues are losing money, John has not yet had to deal with such shortcomings, which makes it all the harder for Marcy when she discovers that he is having an affair with a young, prettier, blonder model.
Yet there are those around them of a higher pedigree who are also facing scandal of their own, and not just financial. Just to pick one, Marcy’s newest, closest friend, gourmet recipe book author Gigi Ambrose, is facing a backlash over her latest book, as it is deemed insensitive due to the fact that the economy is in freefall.
Aside from the scandal and heartbreak, the glimpse into how the wealthy live is enough to turn any shop-a-holic green with envy: the houses, clothes, shoes, furniture, décor, art, and perks are to die for; and the numbers of the salaries…they were astronomical. The last time I got a headache like that over a row of zeroes was in the opening chapter of Bill Bryson’s A Short History of Nearly Everything, in which he explores the creation of the universe. Indeed, the lives of those at the top of the New York social hierarchy makes life on the Planet Raxicoricofallapatorious look normal.
Boncompagni’s insight into the lives of the super-rich is mind-boggling, hilarious, and toe-curling. No doubt some of the anecdotes are from her own experience of mixing with those who own, create, and grace the pages of Vogue, the Wall Street Journal and the New York Times, for whom she has written. Being her own personal accounts makes them both all the more realistic, and all the more unbelievable. Some of the scenes would fit comfortably into a French and Saunders sketch, a scene from "Absolutely Fabulous", or a Joan Rivers gag.
While I envied Marcy’s wealth, home, and most of all her ability to get a job; I could not help but sympathise with her over her fall from grace, and admire her resolution to get back up again.
"Hedge Fund Wives" is the perfect companion to a lazy Sunday afternoon, preferably with a cold drink and some silky-smooth chocolate by your side. It may even spur the poor unemployed like myself to get a good job, if not purely for the sake of spending the wages on Fifth Avenue.

Many thanks to TJ Dietderich of Planned TV Arts for suppling me with this book!

Singin In The Rain - Sunderland Empire Theatre

2009-05-19T21:28:00.000+01:00

Actors are famously superstitious when performing a certain Shakespeare play, but I wonder if they are also superstitious when performing Singin’ In The Rain. At least the putting up of more than a dozen umbrellas indoors did not bring any bad luck on opening night at the Empire.
Set in 1927, it tells the story of Hollywood’s golden couple, silent movie stars Don Lockwood and Lina Lamont. However, when the talking-picture is invented, their studio company, Monumental, decides they must follow in the footsteps of The Jazz Singer, and make a movie with talking and sound. However, Monumental has a slight problem in that Lina, for all her artificial beauty, has a voice that would make Van Gogh cut off his other ear.
Thankfully, they are able to get around the problem by having young actress Kathy Selden, who has the voice of an angel, and the heart of Don Lockwood, performing Lina’s lines in the movie, both speaking and singing. Matters are complicated when Lina, who wants Don for herself, learns of the love between her two co-stars.
There was water falling in the theatre long before the titular song at the end of Act One: the scene in which the film company attempt to shoot their first talking-picture movie against a myriad of continuous technical problems had the audience weeping with laughter. In all the shows I have seen at the Empire (and that includes a pantomime starring Ant and Dec), that was by far and away the funniest thing I have ever seen on that stage.
The wonderful Tim Flavin made for a fine Don Lockwood: personable, witty, and delivered the intricate tap-dancing with a suave grace and athleticism. His solitary performance during “Singin’ In The Rain”, was just one of many highlights during the show; the others being the humorous “Moses Supposes”, and “Lucky Star”, the latter an ethereal performance by Jessica Punch as Kathy Selden.
Graeme Henderson as Cosmo, Lockwood’s former showbiz partner, and now musical director at Monumental, stole the show during his classic slapstick comedy routine in “Make ‘Em Laugh”. Then Amy Griffiths’ Lina Lamont stole it during the kind of intentionally dire, audially atrocious, wonderfully comic performance of “What’s Wrong With Me?” that would have had Cowell, Holden and Morgan hitting their buzzers before the end of the first line had been sung, and telling her exactly what.
When the first large screen showing Lockwood and Lamont’s latest movie appeared, it was as though we had been transported back to the days when the theatre was a cinema; and although the movie was deliberately naff and hammier than Brian Blessed in a Shakespearean comedy, it was almost startling to be reminded of the Empire’s past in a subtle, yet effective manner.

State of Play (2009)

2009-05-08T18:28:00.000+01:00

Speaking as one who has not seen the original BBC drama on which this movie is based, I am afraid I cannot compare the two. However, I am now keen to do so. This new State of Play is a clever conglomeration of British and American political scandal, it is this generation’s version of All The President’s Men, with scenes that would fit into a revival of Drop the Dead Donkey thrown in for good measure.
Russell Crowe stars as Cal McAffrey, a journalist for the Washington Globe investigating the death of political researcher, Sonia Baker (Maria Thayer). Baker had been doing research on a huge American company called PointCorp, for McAffrey’s old college friend, Congressman Stephen Collins, played by Ben Affleck.
With the help of Rachel McAdams’ political blogger Della Frye, a branch of journalism for which McAffrey has nothing but scorn, he stumbles across more and more seemingly unrelated sideshows. His persistence in following them up drives his blunt, sardonic, prickly editor (a surprisingly and enjoyably uncouth Helen Mirren) long past despair. She is more concerned about the plight of her rapidly declining newspaper to care about it printing the truth.
As with any good investigative story, watching the loose threads get neatly sewn together is part of the satisfaction. Crowe as McAffrey is concise enough not to complicate the complicated, and comes across as a likeable journalist; while director Kevin MacDonald (who gave us the powerful, atmospheric The Last King of Scotland) keeps the tension and uncertainty taut. Even Ben Affleck manages not to be as wooden as my pine furniture under MacDonald’s guidance.
There is still a sprinkling of humour through the strain, much of it between McAffrey and Frye over the conflict and bitterness between their respective fading print journalism, and the expanding blog culture. “I’ll have to read a couple of blogs before I make an informed decision”, he tells her when she asks him about circulating rumours of Collins’ private life.
In all honesty, the only thing that spoiled it slightly - without wanting to give too much away - was the timing of the UK release: we are now (believe it or not) only four episodes away from the end of series seven of 24. For those that have watched the last twenty, certain subjects in State of Play will not seem anywhere near as dangerous or frightening.
Speaking of TV dramas, come on, BBC! Remind us why this movie was made in the first place!

"Oliver!" - Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, London

2009-05-07T19:15:00.000+01:00

There was no sign of a recession in the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane on Saturday. From the packed auditorium, to the at times rather crowded stage, not to mention the sight of the man whose name is in lights above the main entrance.
I was going to nominate whoever persuaded Rowan Atkinson to play Fagin for a Knighthood, but I see Cameron Mackintosh already has that honour. From Fagin’s very first line of one syllable, the audience warmed to him with gusto; or as much as is possible to warm to a crazed, creepy uncle type who teaches young boys to steal, and has no concept of soap.
Yet for all that, he rightfully received the biggest laughs and the longest applause, “Reviewing the Situation” being the night’s highlight. For someone known mainly for only two characters, there was a slight trepidation that Atkinson would slip into one of them; but although “Teddy” had a small cameo, I never once thought of Mr Bean or Blackadder.
Halfway through “Food, Glorious Food”, it was obvious that this production would be as delectable as the “hot sausage and mustard”; and from Harry Stott’s first solo in “Where Is Love”, the auditorium took him to their hearts as their tousle-haired orphan. The cast of over thirty young boys were wonderful, and although poor Oliver is condemned to be perpetually upstaged by the Artful Dodger, even he could not compete with a little lad called Nipper, played by nine-year-old Daniel Huttlestone.
This angelic, blond-haired, blue-eyed little nipper turns out to be the cheekiest of Fagin’s urchins: pilfering from, imitating, and insulting his elderly mentor. It’s always the one you least suspect, isn’t it?
Lionel Bart’s memorably addictive soundtrack is given a new lease of life thanks to modern sound equipment. “Consider Yourself” takes the term “all-singing, all-dancing” to a whole new level; I didn’t want it to end, it was glorious. This was due in no small part to Eric Dibb-Fuller’s mischievous turn as the sneaky, swaggering, affable Dodger.
Jodie Prenger made for a delightfully sexy, feisty and yet vulnerable Nancy. From the boisterous exuberance of “Oom-Pah-Pah” to the softly defiant “As Long As He Needs Me”, her powerful voice delivered both cockney character and raw fervour. I will have to read the novel to try to discover how she came to be the preferred company of Burn Gorman’s dark and menacing Bill Sikes.
Dickens’ tale is played out during certain scenes on a clever, elevating two-tier system, allowing us to see what is happening above ground, as well as what is happening below in Fagin’s underground lair.
Given the enthusiastic performances and unforgettable songs, I hope the cast and crew will consider themselves at home at the Theatre Royal for a long time to come.

"Demonkeeper" by Royce Buckingham

2009-05-01T14:19:00.000+01:00

Demonkeeper is a young adult horror novel by Royce Buckingham that is as dark and light as a Tim Burton fairytale. For most children, living in a house inhabited by monsters would be the stuff of nightmares; but for teenager Nat, it is his job. Left an old, creaky house and all its pesky occupants by his now deceased predecessor and mentor, Dhaliwahl; Nat is charged with becoming the new Demonkeeper. Things quickly go awry when, on the one night he leaves the house, the most violent and lethal of the demons escapes. Nat must track The Beast down, with the reluctant help of his new (human) friend, Sandy, a bookish, neat, and frankly desperate girl who is even worse at parallel parking than yours truly.To make matters worse, a former pupil of Dhaliwahl’s who had fallen out of favour arrives back in town with a score to settle. Initially known only as The Thin Man, he has his own plans about catching and using The Beast.Despite being billed as horror, there is a healthy dose of humour that would not look out of place in a Pixar movie. From the description and antics of two young boys who get caught up in the melee, to the characters of Nat’s three little “helper” demons, even The Thin Man’s real name unintentionally made me laugh. Perhaps not everyone will agree with Dhaliwahl’s assertion that “Marriage is attempting stability. To be a keeper is wrestling always with chaos”. For some, they may be one and the same.Although there is a good deal of comedy and wit, there is also some undeniably horrific, primeval action. Even the delicacy of choice for The Beast is tragic, in a way. Buckingham’s book covers the not so subtle fears like demons under the bed and noises in the basement, and the darker, ultimately more frightening fear of simply being alone; making it a much more wholesome tome than your average Goosebumps.

Wallace and Gromit: A Matter of Loaf and Death

2008-12-26T20:04:00.000Z

How is it possible that two small black circles can convey so much emotion? They can, when they are set in the face of that clever, loyal, silent, lovable dog that is Gromit.He and his clueless master Wallace once again graced British screens on Christmas Day. In A Matter of Loaf and Death, the two now run a successful bakery, mainly due to the fact that all the other bakers in town are being murdered. Wallace then happens to make a new lady-friend, Piella (at this rate, he’ll soon be competing with James Bond), a former model for a bakery brand.
Murder mystery it may be, but even young children will hardly bat an eye at the untimely death of Baker Number 12. Rather it is the maltreatment of Piella’s little dog that will be one of their most traumatising viewing moments, somewhere up there with Mufasa, or Bambi’s mother. Poodle she may be, but even I wanted to take poor Fluffles home and give her a proper bed; not a cardboard box in her mistress’ grand bedroom in a palatial mansion.
There was infinitely more chemistry between the two dogs than the humans. I am not ashamed to admit that some scenes with only the former in them made my eyes rather moist. Peter Sallis, as ever, was delightful as Wallace, and Sally Lindsay gave Piella the ideally irritating, posh voice that such a character called for. Gromit was as quiet and expressive as we have come to expect.
It is a visual delight, considering how sophisticated claymation now looks compared to 1989’s A Grand Day Out. The near smooth movements of the characters are a testament to the time, patience and dedication that goes into making this half-hour programme. It is so packed full of visual and verbal gags and puns that it requires a frame-by-frame analysis to find them all. This latest adventure is as quaint and enjoyable as the rest, with a suitably over the top climax; however at times, it somehow did not have quite the same spark as its predecessors.
Despite this, Wallace and Gromit remain a welcome, home-grown antithesis to the CGI animation and cheesy live-action that has been flooding across the Atlantic of late. A Matter of Loaf and Death even took the top Christmas Day viewing figures. Finally, a genuinely deserving Christmas Number One.
According to the animators, it is very difficult to show Gromit’s emotions. All I can say to that is: Cracking job!

Classic Matches - Wimbledon - Murray v Gasquet DVD

2008-12-16T21:20:00.000Z

Will the real Andy Murray please stand up?
From the moment the two tennis players arrived on Centre Court, it seemed like an impostor had picked up Andy Murray’s racket. After three rounds of a comparatively simple passage through to the fourth round, with polite home support, his match against Richard Gasquet of France was going to be anything but.
Both players began brightly enough, although as the first set wore on, Murray’s service game began to suffer. Serving to stay in the set at 6-5, despite saving two break points with some exceptional athleticism, Gasquet prevailed. The Frenchman simply did not allow Murray to play his game, and took the second set 6-3. With Gasquet then two sets and a break up, and serving for the match; Andy Murray arrived on court, and boy, were we glad to see him.
For the first time in the match, Murray had three break points, and soon, for the first time in the match, broke Gasquet’s serve. Another service hold from both took the third set to tiebreak. The DVD is worth the money just for that exquisite, seemingly impossible shot with which Murray won the third set - and for his and the crowd’s unforgettable and unprecedented reaction that followed. That part of the disc will quickly become worn from the number of times it is bound to be played over and over again.
So what else does this DVD bring? Britain beating France, for a start, what more do you want? The tennis itself is simply scintillating. Rallies are not solely confined to the baseline. Powerful forehands, bullet-like backhands, intelligent passing shots, a daring lob, and of course that unpredictable Murray drop-shot. One can easily imagine him in the Wimbledon final with Championship point, putting in a drop-shot. Should that ever happen, most of the crowd will be taken away in body bags.
This match has action, drama, emotion, and a twist that you will not see coming…unless you saw the broadcast or read about it in the papers the morning after. It’s like Gladiator, only epic. The roars from the crowd were certainly more befitting of the Coliseum in Roman times than Centre Court at the All England Lawn Tennis Club; and it is heartening to see how everyone in the Court and on Henman Hill (sorry, Murray Mount) warmed to the young Scot, and gave him ovations the like of which even his predecessor has not seen.
For all the exciting rallies, twists, dips and turns the match took; it was Tim Henman who caused the biggest sigh of disbelief from the ten million television viewers when, in the commentary box, he obliviously asked: “Is it always this nerve-wracking?”. At least now he knows what torture he has been putting us through all these years; and at least this time, we came away smiling.
This is the kind of match that turns knee cartilage into jelly. Even knowing the result does not make the getting there any easier. It is terrifying to recall how close Murray came to defeat, and inspiring to see how he made such an incredible comeback. Yet this is why this match is worth putting oneself through again and again; whether for the thrill, the entertainment, the pride, or simply to marvel at the skill of these two young men.
However, of course, the DVD producers then had to go and ruin it right at the very end by flashing up a statement informing us what happened to Murray in the following round. They just couldn’t let us enjoy that moment of glory, could they? To recompense for this, they’ll have to release a DVD of Murray’s match at the US Open against the man he met in the quarter final of Wimbledon.

Michael McIntyre: Live and Laughing (Audiobook)

2008-12-02T20:00:00.002Z

Michael McIntyre is a rare thing: a modern comedian who can make me laugh. I’m not just talking about the odd chuckle or smirk, but a full-bodied, yet silent laugh that cramps up the stomach and refuses to let air into the lungs as tears roll down the cheeks.
His comedy is nowhere near as crude, vulgar, or over-reliant on profanity as so many of his contemporaries. Even if he does swear or venture into the bedroom, his accent, as he admits himself, is camp enough to enable him to get away with it.
Live and Laughing is the perfect introduction to McIntyre’s brand of humour. He begins with something we can all relate to: traffic. From driving on the motorway with a police car alongside, to being stuck on a country lane behind a tractor; the imagery that is conjured up in the mind is simply side-splitting, like some-thing you might see on a Top Gear challenge.
As a northern lass, I was intrigued by his take on the Geordie accent - although being from Sunderland, do not consider myself a Geordie -, which, according to him, has only one vowel. No prizes for guessing which one. This particular routine evoked memories of Bobby Pattinson, the Geordie accent extraordinaire, who incidentally, was the last person to make me laugh quite so hard.
McIntyre wonders at the point of having stewards to direct people to their seats on a plane, explains why no one can recognise their own mobile phone number, and why, in every house, there is a “man drawer”. You know: the one that has umpteen dead batteries, Allen keys, extension leads and expired foreign currency hoyed into it. Also, ladies; if you’re wondering why you are not allowed to venture into the loft, wonder no longer.
The subject of family life, as always, is one that is full of emotion, as well as humour. When he speaks of the joys and socially awkward moments in raising his two young boys, you can hear the affection in his voice. However the anecdotes play out like a scene from Malcolm in the Middle, making the McIntyre clan sound like the dysfunctional family from hell.
He has even came up with an ingenious solution to getting out of a situation in which you have unwittingly called someone within hearing distance a rude name…providing you do not have to be in an enclosed space with them for a long time afterwards.
However one thing I will hold against him is that he has ruined pineapples. All those years as a child I spent drinking pineapple juice in The Wheatsheaf at Embleton, not far from Keswick; all that innocence has been dashed to pieces.
Refreshingly and genuinely funny as Live and Laughing is, the one thing that lets this iTunes audio book down is the sound quality. It is tinny and echoic, giving it a rather old-fashioned ambience, as though it was recorded straight onto a video cassette (remember those?).
Yet, in such a time where phoning a real comic genius to brag about having sex with their granddaughter is considered funny, it is heartening to know that McIntyre is also out there as the perfect antidote for this generation. Long may he be that antidote.

24: Redemption

2008-11-29T18:46:00.001Z

It’s good to see you again, Jack; you’ve been sorely missed!
24: Redemption sees Bauer hiding in Africa, helping old friend Carl Benton run a small school for boys. Children in the area are being kidnapped and turned into soldiers by their neighbours across the border, who are receiving funding from a high profile source.
Meanwhile, in Washington D.C., as news of conflict in Africa reaches the White House, Allison Taylor is about to become the first Madam President, taking over from a decidedly bitter Noah Daniels (Powers Boothe); while her son is approached by a nervous young banker who is becoming wary of some of his employer’s dealings.
Unusually for 24, it seems to take a while to get going, but when it does, it is edge-of-the-seat time once again. This is achieved without the usual plethora of gunfights and explosions, but fear not, they are still there.
Jack is as proficient, instinctive and foolhardy as ever…Surely he’s not going to take on a dozen or more insurgents single-handedly?!…Despite this, in under two hours, we see more of his softer side than we have in six whole days, especially regarding his relationship with one of the young boys.
A familiar face like Robert Carlyle as the philanthropic Benton initially seemed out of place alongside Kiefer Sutherland. However the two connected well together, and it made a pleasant change to see Carlyle as a likeable character.
Yet Cherry Jones as the President Elect did not quite have the presence that one would expect. You would think she could have found a smarter blouse to wear for her inauguration. Never mind, she might surprise us all and become the Steel Lady.
By setting this TV-movie in Africa, it gives us a chance to see what so far we have only been able to hear from Bauer about his experiences outside of the US. It may not be the most explosive venture for him, but I hope he made the most of the comparative calm and quiet.
Jack may have had more comebacks than the Terminator, but who cares? Redemption has simultaneously filled the gaping hole left by the notable absence of series seven, and left me even hungrier for its arrival in January.

American Gangster

2008-10-24T19:00:00.001+01:00

A year after Martin Scorsese brought us his Oscar-winning The Departed, another gangster movie shot by an acclaimed director also arrived on the big screen. Yet Ridley Scott’s American Gangster seemed to be overlooked in the wake of the star studded Scorsese flick with a thumping soundtrack and clever camerawork.
Scott once again teams up with Russell Crowe, who plays Richie Roberts, a New York detective trying to foil an influx of heroine into the city during the Vietnam War. At the helm of this dealing is Denzel Washington as drug lord Frank Lucas, who is getting his supplies from the war-zone via a contact which puts the credibility of the US military in major peril.
Needless to say is it a far cry from the director’s usual swords-and-sandals epic, but it works. The Gladiator duo are every bit as comfortable working in the back streets of Harlem as they were in a CGI Coliseum; and that, I believe, is what they call versatility.
Set at a leisurely pace that allows what initially seems to be a complex plot fall neatly into place, at the same time it moves quickly enough to keep the viewer engaged. Yes, there are the mandatory family feud scenes, but in Lucas’ case at least, they are integral to his business.
Washington is on top form as the ruthless, extravagant, yet still family-oriented Lucas, whose anger was as variable as the weather, and retribution as subtle as being hit on the head by a Steinway dropped from the 86th floor of the Empire State Building.
Although Crowe once again gave an understatedly intense performance, I spent most of the time when he was on screen trying to place his seemingly unplaceable accent. I settled on Boston as early as possible in order to enjoy the rest of the film.
Scott captures the character of the time exquisitely. Not simply through the clothes and household gadgets, but in the way he makes the eyesore blocks of Harlem look tragically beautiful. The big, black cars prowl along the avenues after dark, taxiing Lucas and his girlfriend to a Mohammed Ali boxing match, or to a private nightclub where he is met by the rest of the drug empire’s glitterati.
Based on a true story, American Gangster touches on contentious issues of race and hypocrisy, and explores the corruption which is not solely confined to the criminals.

James May's Big Ideas - Man Machine

2008-10-24T18:59:00.000+01:00

For James May, the idea of robots living side by side with humans is a childhood dream; for me, it was something of a childhood nightmare. I cannot exactly recall what made me frightened of robots, but I do remember that it was, of all things, an episode of the Rugrats that kept me awake at night in fear of a robot attack.
In an episode of his Big Ideas series entitled “Man-Machine”, May explores the evolution of robots. His journey takes him to the obvious places like Japan, and the not so obvious Disneyland. The first robot he encounters is an exoskeleton that gives the wearer extra strength, as demonstrated when a five foot eight Japanese woman lifts May clear off a bed. Aesthetically, it was not the most pleasing, but as a functioning machine for which every movement could be seen, there was something almost beautiful in the design.
Easily the sleekest, best looking robot is Asimo, who resides at Disneyland, and is the cute little chap we saw in the Honda adverts not so long ago. He can walk. It sounds mundane, routine, but not to Asimo. He is the first robot to walk like a human being, albeit one who has perhaps just had an injury in the groin area. Asimo can also walk up and down stairs with perfect balance, and he can run. For 0.8 of a second, both his feet are off the ground while he runs. It was impressive, and also slightly frightening, if only for the thought of all that technology moving at a fast pace.
From the sweet to the scary, May meets a robot who looks exactly like his creator - well, apart from the eyes that look like they belong to an Ood from Doctor Who. That was one robot I really would have liked to see the skeleton of, not only for the mechanical brilliance, but to take away the sheer eeriness of a robot with facial muscles. The creator developed it to explore the relationship between humans and humanoid robots. If May’s reaction was anything to go by, it would probably lead to robo-racism should they be put into production.
In central Europe, May teaches Asimo’s smiley German cousin to recognise a Mini Cooper (the British version), and is doubtful when told that Asimo will not take over the world. So much for not mentioning the war, James.
Away from Top Gear, where every attempt May makes to explain some motorized marvel is shouted down by his co-hosts, here he has free reign to indulge his boyish, and frankly rather infectious, enthusiasm for all things mechanical, and he does so in a way that is intelligible without being patronising.
Although May concludes that the future will depend on virtual and digital rather than nuts and bolts, he remains ever hopeful of one day having a robot to get him another beer. Even I, a self-confessed robophobe, would not mind having an Asimo in my house to do my bidding; along with a Dalek to sort out burglars, hoodies, and chavas; and a WALL-E to sort out my rubbish. I’m sure they’ll all get along swimmingly.

For the record, I know that Daleks are not robots, but are in fact aliens inside a suit of armour, so don’t bother pointing that out.

VW Camper USB Memory Stick

2008-10-23T15:13:00.000+01:00

The Volkswagen Camper USB memory stick is easily the sweetest little thing I have ever seen in my life, and is one of those rare things: a novelty with a purpose. Smaller than the die-cast models, and more useful, too. It is also a cause for much amusement at the office or computer desk: not only do the wheels move, but the lights flash during the transfer of data. I was about to ask “who needs a computer for fun when you’ve got one of these?”, but really, you do need a computer to fully use and appreciate it.
It also looks quite smart sitting on a desk, much more attractive than your average memory stick. Even the packaging is unique: it comes in a clear box with a cardboard base that has a bird’s eye view of a beach, as though the VW is parked on the sands; it actually seems a shame to take it out of the box. It also comes with a USB extension lead in case of inconveniently placed sockets.
These die-cast models are officially VW licensed, and are available in red or green, in 256MB or 1GB. There are also VW Beetle versions in pink or blue They can be bought from websites such as play.com, totally-funky.co.uk, and lazyboneuk.com. Play.com has the best offer with a red 1GB camper van at £17.99, otherwise price-wise you are looking at around £20 or more.
My only tiny little niggles are that the USB plug sticks permanently out of the back, with a clear plastic cover that slips over it, instead of the plug sliding into the body of the van; and the back wheels seem to be disproportionably bigger than those on the front. As such, from the back it does not look quite so cute, but when its face is that adorable, who is going to look at the back?

Tess of the D'Urbervilles

2008-10-11T12:11:00.001+01:00

The BBC has given us another of their period costume dramas, almost institutions in themselves. Thomas Hardy’s Tess of the D’Urbervilles is the latest to join the elite ranks of Pride and Prejudice and Bleak House.
However, Tess is not your average, cosy, costume drama that makes for light Sunday evening viewing. It tells the story of Tess Durbeyfield, a country girl whose ancestors are the noble family of D’Urberville. Sent out by her mother to claim the family heritage, Tess falls victim to her cousin Alec’s lust for her. Now a spoiled woman, Tess is unable to make her true feelings known to the man she loves, Angel Clare; until she learns that he too is not quite so innocent. What could possibly go wrong?
Gemma Arterton was ideally cast as the naive, proud, unfortunate Tess. Her large, sad eyes were the perfect outlet through which Tess’ emotions were conveyed. Gavin and Stacey’s Ruth Jones was something of a revelation as Tess’ mother, even though she had already shown her diversity as an actress in a particularly haunting episode of Torchwood. Hans Matheson as Alec D’Urberville was the right mix of menace and vulnerability, but Eddie Redmayne’s Angel Clare did not quite make it clear why the girls love him.
A solitary, sad violin provided the basis of the soundtrack, however a scene where Tess confronts Alec about Angel was spoiled by music that was too loud and too dramatic. It almost seemed to be harking back to the music of classic romance or action movies. In contrast, the traditional country tunes sung by Tess and the girls while dancing or working, were bright, cheerful songs amid a bevy of depression.
The scenery, although pleasant enough, had the misfortune to be upstaged by the views shown in Britain From Above, shown just before Tess began. Only Stonehenge, without a main road, barrier and tourists swarming around it, looked especially startling, and was arguably the star of the show - rather like This Is Spinal Tap, only without the hilarity. The fact that most of the focus was on the actors while a mist-shrouded Stonehenge made a silent backdrop of such subtlety for stones so large made the scene all the more eerie.
Shot under mostly grey or cloudy skies, this adaptation evokes the feel of the novel well, and is very faithful to the story. Given that almost the entire wardrobe was destroyed in a fire, everyone looks perfectly pretty or rightly ragged in their hurriedly thrown-together costumes; one would never know.
Told in four, one hour slots, the length is just right. Not too rushed, yet not so long as to keep the viewer wrapped in a cocoon of sadness to the same extent as our poor heroine. While not as engaging as other BBC adaptations - the notion that the BBC could churn such things out in their sleep seems to have been tried and tested with Tess - , it is nonetheless a moving tale of hypocrisy that shows while people may not change through history, thankfully, society, culture, and attitudes do.

Guitar Hero III - Legends of Rock - Wii

2008-10-08T17:16:00.001+01:00

Admittedly, Guitar Hero III was not top of my list of ‘must have’ games. However on seeing it on special offer online, my female bargain hunting instincts kicked in. Sure, I had only heard of four songs, but it had to be a laugh, surely?
Perhaps a laugh is not the correct terminology. After an hour and a half my legs were aching, my arms and fingers were stiff, and the strap had rubbed against my neck so much I’m surprised my head is still on top of it. Yet had I not felt so uncomfortable I would have gladly played on for another hour.
Guitar Hero III, as well as being an excellent way to improve hand-eye co-ordination, is a hugely entertaining game. The controls are easy enough to pick up, it’s playing them in the right order that is the challenge. A guitar fret scrolls out of the screen towards you, and different coloured circles indicate the relevant buttons to be pressed while the strummer that represents the strings is simultaneously strummed.
Track listings on the internet had given a rather limited view of the surprisingly varying range of songs, artists and decades. The four songs I had heard of quickly increased to seven, while others may just have to be sought out on iTunes. From Heart to Alice Cooper, and Cream to The Killers, there was something to satisfy even my narrow-minded tastes in music. Ironically, one of the songs I had most been looking forward to, the Rolling Stones’ “Paint it Black”, proved to be one of the most difficult among the ‘easy’ level.
In ‘Career’ mode, pick your lead guitarist, name your band, and embark on a road to rock stardom. From beginning in a garage, to recording music videos, to the first gig in London; every new concert, every new contract, gives a sense of satisfaction.
The one moment I did not enjoy was a ‘battle’ against a rival guitar player, and after getting beat three times had to endure an encore featuring a song of such heavy metal, few words and few chord changes that was boring yet difficult. Talk about punishment. Personally, what would really make this game would be a version with ‘70s and ‘80s soft rock songs.
The Gibson guitar that comes with the game for the Wii is wireless, something of a blessing for those who would prefer not to trip on a cable and fall headfirst into the television while trying to rock. The amount of freedom, the evolution of the video controllers given to us by the Wii has made it very difficult now to use anything that has wires.
Finally, when my legs and fingers could take no more, and my eyes were telling me that the television was elevating itself, I knew it was time to quit for the day. After all that heavy metal, it was something of a relief to switch on Top Gear and hear the strains of Elgar accompanying the sight of James and Richard flying over Italy in a Cessna.

Mutual Friends

2008-10-02T19:03:00.000+01:00

Suddenly, out of nowhere, there was something to watch at nine ‘o’ clock at night for three days running. A thing unheard of of late! Mondays saw The Children, Wednesdays Lost in Austen, and sandwiched between them on Tuesdays was Mutual Friends.
The latter follows a group of “friends” dealing with the death of one of their own, and the revelations that came with it. Lawyer Martin Grantham (Marc Warren), learns that his wife Jen has had an affair with the now deceased Carl, putting a strain between them and poor widower Leigh.
Meanwhile, Martin’s licentious friend Patrick Turner is sacked from his job as a photographer with a modelling business, and turns to Martin for legal help. Patrick’s ex-girlfriend is also dating Patrick’s ex-boss. Oh dear.
Leigh finds herself the object of infatuation from married family friend Dev, and also finds herself penniless from Carl’s squandering of money.
Martin faces trouble at work as he is not bringing in business, business that is not pro bono. He is also up against a younger, hot-shot lawyer keen to knock Martin from his pedestal.
Preview reviews gave the impression that all the characters began playing tricks on each other in an almost cartoonish way, yet this is not the case. There are some subtle and not so subtle expressions of anger, disgust and revenge; but when it really matters, the vast majority are there for each other and doing the right thing, most of the time.
While Mutual Friends is nothing new, and many of the directions taken in the story can be seen coming a mile off, it is still enough to keep a viewer watching. The characters are not the unpleasant, conniving people they were made out to be, although they are undoubtedly flawed; but who wants to watch a bunch of people behaving like saints?
Billed as a comedy, the humour occasionally seems flat, coarse, or over-reliant on swearing, but there are a few laugh out loud moments, usually with Martin as the butt of the joke. His attempts at teaching primary school children, and thinking that someone is about to commit harry-carry are just two of them. Keeley Hawes as Jen also had an amusing yet predictable line about a tiara that demanded to be said. Thankfully it was, and said well.
Alexander Armstrong was the stand-out in a cast of familiar faces as the immoral, selfish, single-minded Patrick; and his chemistry with Marc Warren as their characters go through a love-hate, hate-love relationship can surely be counted among the recent television series double-act successes.
Although not as slick or witty as some of the other BBC comedies or dramas, it nonetheless made for a diverting few hours of easy to watch, unchallenging, not to be taken seriously entertainment.

Apple Applications for iPod Touch and iPhone Part 2

2008-10-01T11:15:00.001+01:00

Day by day, little by little, the list of applications for the Apple iPhone and iPod Touch keeps on growing. From games by EA (come on, where is The Sims app?!) to aids with musical instruments to wireless transfer of documents, there are at least twenty apps that will be used for pleasure, purpose, or pointlessness.
There are now flight simulators, news links, and even a compass - although, as the latter needs the sun to work, of course, here in Britain we’ll be able to use it every day without fail.
The game of SuperBall 2 is the most infuriating, fiendish, and most difficult of the lot; but it is so addictive and so simple that many battery hours have been spent trying to destroy lots of multicoloured blocks with a little white ball.
Taking inspiration from the Nintendo Wii game of Wii Sports, there is now a tennis app, and the players may look like two-tone tablets, but they are still rather sweet, and there are stranger body shapes on the tennis circuit. A three-hole game of golf is also available, in which the iPod is swung like a club to hit the ball…just, keep tight hold of it: there is no wrist strap for the iPod - yet.
For the football fans there is Real Football 2009, a game with higher graphics quality than a Nintendo DS game. Almost 200 teams can play against each other in 12 stadiums, although scoring can prove something of a challenge at first. It’s Pro Evo Soccer for the smallest of handhelds, and at £5.99 is cheaper than most games for the portables.
Stanza lets the user download hundreds of classic and modern literature, all for nothing! I can guarantee that a lot of browsing the catalogue will turn up some surprises, as well as the complete works of Dickens and Austen to name but two.
More photography applications have emerged that can be used on the Touch, although some of those confined to the iPhone could easily be altered to work on the camera-less Touch. Collage even allowed me to create a desktop for my computer with a selection of photographs, and although the resolution is not crystal, it’s not bad at all for something created on a 3.5 inch screen for a 17 inch screen.
iEnvision is an online library containing lots of pictures and artwork, from NASA photo of the day to manga and comic strips. An update now allows such work by the Masters like Da Vinci and Michelangelo to be saved to the iPod.
At last, someone has created a map of the London Underground to go on the iPod. At £6, however, it is rather steeply priced, although it does have some rather useful functions such as a journey planner, and pinpointing the nearest station to a variety of locations. Plus it does not require a magnifying glass to read like the tiny but free little paper tube maps do.
With Remote, one is able to control their iTunes library wirelessly from their iPod, for when a mouse simply won’t do. Costing absolutely nothing, however, it is nonetheless a clever little piece of kit.
More importantly, apps that are completely useless unless you live on the western side of the Atlantic are now starting to include the UK. Movies and tvGuide are now not just confined to our American cousins. As always, however, check the reviews and compatibility before you hit that magnetic little “Buy” button.

The Children

2008-09-29T21:17:00.001+01:00

The Children is a three-part ITV drama that treats its viewers as though they have the memory capacity of a goldfish. It follows the events leading up to the killing of eight year old Emily Brookes, who within a few weeks, accumulates more enemies than Richard Nixon.
The Brookes family and the Miller family are families no more. Mr Cameron Miller is now the partner of Mrs Sue Brookes, while Mr Brookes has a new, young girlfriend and baby, and Mrs Anne Miller is free to pursue a man who works at the same shopping mall.
Fourteen year old Master Jack Miller gets himself thrown out of the house by Anne Miller, and winds up living with Cameron, Sue, and Emily. Still with me?
Emily, formerly a spoilt little brat, finds having a semi-step-brother a big inconvenience, particularly when he frightens her with false tales of paedophiles. However she turns the tables on him when she accuses him of being a paedophile.
Once again Jack is forced to leave his home, and Cameron goes with him, putting a strain on his relationship with Sue, who herself does not know what to make of Emily’s accusation, and rues the potential loss of what she had with Cameron. Anne, already scornful of Emily, likes her even less on learning Emily’s damning verdict on her son. Previously, Emily had also dropped her new baby step-sister, leading to less than familial harmony with her father’s girlfriend, and even her own father.
The scene is set for a whodunit that Hercule Poirot would give his moustache for a chance to crack. Yet, unlike ITV’s infamous sleuth series, The Children is a slow, long-winded master class in dreary storytelling. Kevin Whately, almost wasted as Cameron, would have been of better use trying to solve the case as another infamous ITV character than being a suspect in it.
The flash-forwards are numerous, repetitive, and (I never thought I would say this) more tedious than those in Lost; not to mention almost insulting, as though the viewer is too stupid to recall what they have seen ten times beforehand. And yes, we do know what the implications of the words ‘Cameron Miller in an empty classroom with a female co-worker’ are, we don’t need a moving picture drawn for us, thank you very much. I certainly felt stupid for sitting through three hours of this drudgery.
There are only so many times you can watch a child fall to her death before wishing you had let Sky+ do the work so that such scenes can be skipped over quickly. The sight of Emily’s doll flying rigidly through the air in slow motion time and time again was more humorous than harrowing, then downright dull. If they had cut back on the flash-forwards the whole thing would only have took an hour to tell.
BBC One’s new primetime show has been accused of having unlikeable characters. Trust me, the Mutual Friends look like The Waltons compared to that lot in The Children. By the end you can’t help but wish they had all fell and cracked their heads open within the first five minutes. Lesley Sharp as Anne was the only person I felt marginally less ill-inclined towards.
However the writers, actors and directors of The Children all want locking up for killing three of the British public’s Monday evenings.

Elizabeth: The Golden Age

2008-09-29T20:24:00.000+01:00

Having read such negative reviews of Elizabeth: The Golden Age, I must have set my expectations so low that it seemed much better than it was given credit for.
In 1585, as suitor after suitor is passed casually over, Walter Raleigh arrives at court having discovered the New World, and christened it after the Virgin Queen. While he gets closer to Elizabeth, she is dealing with plots to assassinate her, plots spearheaded by Mary, Queen of Scots.
Tense relations between the Protestant English and Catholic Spanish crowns come to a head when Mary loses hers, and the Spanish Armada begins its assault on the English Channel. By then, Raleigh has lost all favour with the Queen by impregnating and marrying her favourite maid, but he is released from prison to lead the woefully outnumbered English fleet to victory.
That’s the wonderful thing about historical movies, reviewers do not have to worry about spoiling the ending. However I could be taking a liberty in referring to the sequel as historical, as the liberties it took with history make The Tudors look accurate.
While purists may well gloat at the sight of Elizabeth astride a white horse in full armour addressing her troops at Tilbury (for the record, she did address her troops at Tilbury while wearing a breastplate), it was nonetheless a moving and uplifting scene, if a tad Hollywood. There could be no doubt of the inspiration it gave to her soldiers.
In all honesty, the movie is driven by Cate Blanchett’s powerhouse performance. She is rage and fire, wit and humour, yet fearful and vulnerable. The torment she experienced on sending her cousin Mary to the block, and a deeply intimate, personal moment when she held her maid’s newborn baby were two of many highlights. Why she did not win one of her many Best Actress nominations for the role is a mystery.
Samantha Morton gives a subtle, short, yet intense showing as Mary, and although Clive Owen did his best as Raleigh, aside from his flowery recitations about life at sea, did not fully explain why Elizabeth took to him as she did.
The cinematography was gorgeous. Even Eilean Donan Castle looked more picturesque in the Scottish gloom than it did on this reviewer’s visit last year in similar weather conditions.
Yet it seems that all this lush scene setting slashed the budget for the battle of the Armada. Director Shekhar Kapur never quite shows the intensity and depth of the fight at sea that was, as the movie itself states, the most humiliating event in Spanish naval history. After almost an hour and a half of building up to it, the whole thing is over in five minutes. It looks good for the first minute, but if you want a decent sea battle, try Pirates of the Caribbean.
Grounded in history it is not. However, if like me, you are fed up of all the recent Spanish sporting victories, and Spanish banks coming to our financial rescue; The Golden Age does a rather good job both of reminding us of the great superpower that Britain once was to be able to win against the odds, and making us wonder just what the hell happened. It’s either this, or trying to catch a re-showing of Andy Murray beating Nadal at the US Open earlier this month.

"The Tenth Case" by Joseph Teller

2008-09-27T11:49:00.000+01:00

The Tenth Case is former criminal defence attorney Joseph Teller’s debut novel. Defence lawyer Harrison J. Walker, known as Jaywalker, is to face suspension from the bar following the use of inappropriate tactics to win a case, and receiving a certain favour in the courthouse stairwell from a satisfied client. However due to his exceptional acquittal record and large workload, he is allowed to finish ten of his cases before suspension.
While the first nine cases are dealt with comparatively smoothly, it is his tenth case that tests his capabilities, and threatens to undermine his record.
When elderly billionaire Barrington Tannenbaum is found dead in his Manhattan apartment, all the evidence points to his twenty-six year old wife, Samara Moss. A former prostitute, and portrayed by the tabloids as a gold-digger, Samara continually attests to her innocence. It is up to Jaywalker to convince the jury that this young, petite, pretty Cinderella is no killer.
It is a refreshing change for the lead character to be an experienced, mature man dealing with his own issues privately; rather than the cocky young rookie who appears in so many law court novels. Teller himself describes Jaywalker as his “alter ego”, and works places and situations from his career into the story. Samara remains something of a riddle throughout, at times one hardly knows what to make of her. Teller does a grand job of keeping things under wraps while revealing so much.
Despite the subject matter being what it is, there is still a healthy humour within the pages. From a New Yorker’s frustration with the pedestrian crossings to stereotypes within the law profession, there are moments guaranteed to raise more than a smile.
Although the book spans more than three years, it certainly does not take that long to read The Tenth Case, as it is a considerably fast page-turner. The complexities of the US legal system are explained as and when is needed, and in simple, un-patronising language to aid the reader’s comprehension of the trial; while the trial itself is presented almost in script form.
For a first novel, Teller has produced a thrilling, gripping courtroom drama that from the first page to the last simply does not allow the reader to put it down.

Lost in Austen

2008-09-26T11:36:00.000+01:00

Given the numerous adaptations of Pride and Prejudice, can we really handle yet another? Yet Lost in Austen offers a completely different take on the classic novel. In 2008, Amanda Price, perhaps the biggest fan of P+P (who else would want that theme music from the 1995 version as their mobile phone ringtone?), is living a typical young woman’s life in Hammersmith: flat, boyfriend, and Elizabeth Bennett in her bathroom. Alright, maybe not quite so typical.
Amanda steps through the same portal that Elizabeth did to find herself in Longbourne, and promptly gets stuck there, with Elizabeth trapped in 2008. At first, all seems to go well. She is accepted as one of Lizzie’s friends, meets Mr Bingley, and even dances with Elliot Cowan’s Darcy on their first meeting, something not even Elizabeth could achieve.
Yet from there, it all goes awry. Despite Amanda’s best efforts, Bingley notices her more than Jane, and while he is still busy agonising over her rejection and working out his feelings for Jane, Jane has married the slimiest Mr Collins ever seen, played with slippery aplomb by Guy Henry.
From here on in, it seems that very few of the characters are as we know them. Be prepared for some revelations that, as Amanda puts it, would have “Jane Austen spinning in her grave”. Meanwhile, Darcy too has added himself to the growing list of Amanda’s admirers, despite her comparative coarseness and lack of accomplishments. Although she is flattered - and let’s face it, who wouldn’t be? - she is adamant that he should meet Elizabeth, but she is still stuck in Amanda’s world.
Many twists and turns later, Amanda finds herself back in her Hammersmith, and Darcy follows her. There was something startling and yet wonderfully artistic on seeing Darcy in all his Georgian finery, standing in the main street of Hammersmith, looking at his surroundings in awe, disgust, and yet with his usual gentlemanly composure.
They find Elizabeth, who is fitting in with her new surroundings much more seamlessly than Amanda did in Elizabeth’s world. She returns to Longbourne with them, but who will return to Netherfield with Darcy?
Lost in Austen is pure escapism. Jemima Rooper as Amanda gets the line between doing the right thing and being swept away by every woman’s fantasy man just right. Hugh Bonneville and Alex Kingston play off each other well as Mr and Mrs Bennett, yet sadly we do not see enough of Gemma Arterton as Elizabeth. Tom Mison takes Bingley down an unfamiliar road of depression and self-destruction, and although it is not a pretty sight, Mison handles it well.
There are also some genuinely humorous moments, from Amanda’s voice over thoughts, to her entertaining the Bingley’s with Petula Clark’s “Downtown”; but by far the most amusing scene involves Mr Darcy and a lake at Netherfield.
Austen purists will undoubtedly be affronted by the erratic plot, yet it is interesting to explore how the characters would act in situations and developments that are as alien to us as to them. All in all, Lost in Austen is an entertaining, refreshing version of a book so popular it is in danger of being done to death. It does not take itself seriously, and it not meant to be; rather it is just light-hearted fun. Try finding something better to watch at nine ‘o’ clock on a Wednesday.

Murray beats Nadal 6-2, 7-6, 4-6, 6-4

2008-09-25T12:09:00.000+01:00

Christmas came early for me this year, although it does not normally come with feelings of nausea four days beforehand. At one ‘o’ clock in the morning on Thursday 4th September, I put teletext on to get the news I wanted to hear: Andy Murray had - finally - beat Juan Martin Del Potro in the quarter finals of the US Open in an epic five-setter. Now able to relax, I went to sleep, and awoke the next morning to find that Murray was to play Rafael Nadal in the semis.
On paper, it did not look good. Nadal held a 5-0 record against the Scot, and, aside from a defeat by Novak Djokovic at the Cincinnati Masters, was on a winning streak. However, Andy had just ended Del Potro’s winning streak. Could he finally break the run of Spanish wins, not just in tennis but in other sports? It felt right, the time felt good for him to do so. The overwhelming, gut-wrenching feeling inside me was that it was Andy’s turn; yet there was still that tiny little voice that said: “but what if he doesn’t?”.
Thinking the semis would be on the Friday, like normal Grand Slams, I got through Thursday, yet felt as though I was sitting around waiting for the match to begin. However, due to television executives in the US, the semis are held on Saturday, with the final on Sunday; and, for some strange reason, Roger Federer’s match against Djokovic was to be the first semi played, although Murray and Nadal, being in the top half of the draw, should have been on first.
On Saturday morning, I woke up from a wonderful and yet cruel dream. I had dreamed that Andy was two sets up against Nadal, but the latter fought back and won the third set, but never saw the end of the match. Waking up and realising it was just a dream was the most painful experience of my life. My household upgraded to Sky Sports that day so we could watch the match, and although I avoid Nadal’s matches like the plague, and today was to be no different, on seeing how positively Andy started, I had to stay and see what happened.
Just like in January and August when I dreamed that Andy lost in the first round of the Australian Open and the Olympics, my dream came true. I was not at all surprised when Andy took the first two sets, and not just because of the dream. Nadal was not playing at his best, but Andy was simply astounding. He dominated the points and rallies, was aggressive, came to the net, and served exceptionally.
He broke Nadal twice to take the first set 6-2, and in the second set tiebreak had the upper hand, but Nadal soon caught up. There was a terrifying moment at 5-5 when a Nadal return of the Murray second serve clipped the net, but mercifully fell into the Spaniard’s half.
Again, just like in my dream, Nadal began strongly in the third set, breaking Andy’s opening service game, and at 3-1, I learned why I never saw the end of the match in my dream: Tropical Storm Hanna arrived. The match was called off until Sunday, and the final postponed until Monday; Federer having beat Djokovic in four sets.
Although I was relieved that Nadal’s momentum had been taken away, the next twenty four hours were the longest of my life. Could Andy come out as well as he did on the Saturday, or would Nadal take the upper hand? All Andy had to do was win one set, something he was more than capable of doing. I only had four hours sleep that night, and thankfully had no more dreams about the match.
I needn’t have worried. I never have worried for Andy, not even when he was two sets and a break down against Gasquet at Wimbledon I was convinced he was going to win the match; but this was Nadal, the one player who I would love to see Andy beat more than anything.
Yet no sooner had Hanna passed by than Hurricane Andy once again arrived and caused more damage. Although he went a break down in the fourth set, his refusal to lie down enabled him to break back against the now rejuvenated Nadal. If Andy’s play had been impressive on Saturday, it was even more so on the Sunday.
At 5-4, Andy set about once again breaking Nadal’s serve, something he had done so well. Aided by the net to go 0-15 up, the rest was all Andy’s doing. Perhaps the most jaw-dropping sight of the match after the supremely high quality of the Scot’s tennis, was the sight of Nadal bent double trying to get his breath back after a long rally that gave Andy match point.
A drop-shot from Nadal was only too easily chased down by Andy, who tapped a backhand passing shot past the now helpless, now defeated Spaniard. Andy has never been one to celebrate a win by jumping up and down while pumping his fists, and today was no exception. A slight clenching of the fists and a brief closing of the eyes made for a calm and dignified acknowledgement of his stunning achievement, while his expression said just how much it meant to him.
Yet he seemed even more awed to meet Will Ferrell outside the locker rooms than by his win. Incidentally, I had been watching Will Ferrell in The Producers before turning over for the match. Further proof that the result was meant to be.
Finally, after four days of agony, I could get back to the fundamentals like eating, drinking and sleeping; although that Sunday night I lay in bed until four in the morning either grinning like Jack Nicholson in Batman, or laughing in silent hysterics as if I had just seen Stonehenge in This Is Spinal Tap. What I really wanted to do at that time, however, was imitate Audrey Hepburn in My Fair Lady in that scene where she could have danced all night.
For me, Andy had to beat Nadal. I knew even before their first meeting at the Australian Open two years ago that Andy had the game and the skill to win. It had to be proven that it takes more than power to win a tennis match, and Andy had to be the one to give that lesson. It may have been a long time coming, but it was worth the wait. I had joked to myself that Andy was waiting for something special to beat Nadal, but special doesn’t cover it. Put simply, there are not enough words in the English language to describe what happened that weekend at Flushing Meadows. Whatever it was, I will treasure those memories forever.
Of course, now that Andy had made my dream come true, I had to go and thank him personally for it. So, not two weeks later, my mother and I were fortunate enough to get to the practice court of Wimbledon’s Court 19 during the Davis Cup tie against Austria just before Andy arrived. While he signed my programme I thanked him, but as there were ten people trying to talk at him he may not have heard.
So, just in case you didn’t hear it the first time:
THANK YOU, ANDY!!!!!!!!!!

The X-Files: I Want To Believe

2008-08-08T13:54:00.000+01:00

I believe I wanted to like this movie, I truly did. Catching glimpses of the two main stars and creator/director Chris Carter at the London premiere two days beforehand added to the excitement, alas it turned out to be the most exciting and interesting thing related to the movie.
It starts promisingly enough. A female FBI agent is attacked in her house, and she fights back with a clawed utensil, leaving deep, distinctive cuts on her attacker’s face and hand, yet she disappears. We then see a team of FBI agents being lead across the snow, where they discover a severed arm with deep cuts in the hand.
The team is lead there by Father Joe, a paedophilic priest who claims to have visions relating to the woman’s disappearance. However, as the entire FBI is now sceptical about visions, they ask Scully to bring in Mulder to help with the case. Scully, now a full time doctor, is reluctant to get involved, as is the now reclusive Mulder, complete with obligatory hermit-like beard; yet while he finally gives in and goes back to the “darkness”, Scully adamantly keeps out of it.
While the movie is predominantly a dark and occasionally gruesome affair, there are some amusing moments, particularly a cheeky little joke about George Bush Junior.
Billy Connelly is decidedly creepy as the disgraced Father Joe, and his altercations with Gillian Anderson’s Scully are, performance-wise, the best scenes in the film. While the priest’s motives are mysterious, it does not stop his vague yet conveniently timed visions becoming strained and monotonous.
The movie also touches on controversial issues, such as stem cell research, and, through Father Joe and another priest hell-bent on making Scully’s job difficult; the Catholics come off less favourably than the Russian villain, played by Callum Keith Rennie.
There is a lot of character revelation and development in the movie, although surely there has been enough time to do that over nine series. Yet Anderson and David Duchovny slip so easily back into their most famous roles it is as if they had never stopped. Their performances were let down by a slow and unoriginal plot, and Carter’s direction seemed more made-for-TV than Hollywood material
While the extra-terrestrial theme in the latest Indiana Jones movie seemed out of place there, it would have been more than welcome in the X-Files. If you’re really desperate for a supernatural story with little green men, go for Indy.

"First Daughter" by Eric Van Lustbader

2008-08-05T10:07:00.000+01:00

Having been deprived of my annual fix of Jack Bauer chasing terrorists and fighting to stay alive against a backdrop of political and religious turmoil due to the Hollywood writers’ strike, Eric Van Lustbader’s latest novel, First Daughter, filled the void left by the absence of series seven of 24.
Edward Carson is about to be inaugurated as President of the United States, but only a month beforehand, his nineteen year old daughter is kidnapped. Carson seeks the aid of his old friend, Jack McClure, to find Alli; along with numerous other Secret Service and Cabinet departments.
McClure himself is struggling to cope with the death of his own daughter, Emma, and the subsequent separation from his wife. He also faces hostility and deprecation over his dyslexia from the head of the recovery operation, Hugh Garner. Despite his disability, it allows McClure to see the world and to see problems in different ways, and enables him to solve them remarkably quickly.
The story is tightly plotted, it twists and turns more frequently and more sharply than the River Thames, and there are cliffhangers aplenty. McClure’s past and present are woven skilfully together against events that reference and mirror those of the past eight years regarding American foreign policy and homeland security. If the character of the outgoing president is not a reflection of Bush Jnr I will devour the book again, literally.
As to the other characters, their development is every bit as crucial as the gripping story they inhabit. Their strengths, weaknesses and personas are brought out to air, giving the reader a well-rounded and detailed impression of them all.
Lustbader questions the place of religion within politics, and within society. A scene where the priest comforts Sharon McClure at the funeral of her only daughter by telling her that Emma’s death is part of God’s plan, was just one of many instances which exposed the futile and shallow reasons why God is almost lackadaisically blamed for or credited with everything from the death of a child to starting a war.
Parallels between 24 and the movie of Along Came A Spider aside, First Daughter is an exhilarating political thriller that cannot be put down until it has been read cover to cover. Not only will the pages be turned as quickly as the plot thickens, but perhaps even some sympathy for the first daughter may be aroused.
First Daughter also exemplifies why Eric Van Lustbader has taken over from Robert Ludlum at the helm of the Bourne series of novels. Although normally I am sceptical about authors writing as dead authors, this time I am going to have to make an exception.

Batman: The Dark Knight

2008-08-04T15:38:00.000+01:00

I will admit right now: if I had been in charge of casting The Dark Knight, Heath Ledger would not have made my top one hundred shortlist for The Joker. I will also admit that would have been wrong, and that I seriously underestimated his acting talent. In the new Batman movie, no one could accuse him of being cast simply because of his pretty features and little else.
As well as some deliberately bad jokes, lots of subtle threatening and not so subtle shooting; his cruel yet sadistically comic performance did bring some humorous moments to an otherwise dark and frightening film. His ‘I want one of those’ expression on first seeing the Batmobile was both amusing, and mirrored by everyone else in the Odeon at Leicester Square.
The Joker is carrying out a series of bank robberies, and Batman is trying to foil him, along with the new District Attorney - a spot on performance by Aaron Eckhart - and Lieutenant James Gordon.
Yet with so much publicity given to the untimely death of Ledger, the other baddie was overlooked entirely. The special effects on Two-Face were awesome, although young children will wake up screaming for a month should they see it. Don’t be fooled by the 12A rating: The Dark Knight makes the first Spiderman movie look like The Incredibles.
To be honest I felt more sorry for Two-Face than The Joker, possibly because we see his allegiance switch to the dark side after a personal tragedy and an accident that leaves him horribly disfigured. The man he was, and the man he could have been, only emphasises the stark and sad contrast to what he becomes.
As for Batman, the line between his status as a hero or a vigilante becomes ever more blurred. It veers substantially towards the latter when Wayne installs software that allows him to listen in on phone conversations. Whenever Christian Bale spoke in the throaty, raspy voice he gives Batman, I felt as though my own throat was about to revert back to the pain it had plagued me with over the previous two days. Just stop talking and hit some bad guys.
Although Maggie Gyllenhaal, Gary Oldman and Morgan Freeman gave strong supporting acts, the only thing that was miscast was Gotham City. I’ve never been to Chicago, but even I could tell it was The Windy City; possibly to give Batman some warm air currents to glide on. Compared to the previous Gothams it seemed too light and untroubled.
Brothers Jonathan and Christopher Nolan turn what seems like a simple story of stopping the bad guy into a two and a half hour blockbuster. Although some scenes feel overlong or would not be missed, there are some impressive scene-setting shots; and a thrilling night-time chase through Gotham’s streets and tunnels is one of the action highlights.
Although the fantastical technology is not as advanced as that depicted in Iron Man, Bruce Wayne’s Lamborghini leaves Tony Stark’s Audi in the shade. There is sure to be a battle between the superhero movies of 2008, and it is going to be very close between them.

Mario Kart Wii

2008-07-24T15:08:00.000+01:00

Is it not marvellous that video games can fulfil one’s fantasies, no matter how ludicrous they are? Mario Kart Wii fulfils fantasies that I did not even know I had until I found them. While playing, I realised that I had always wanted to drive a car along a river, over a waterfall and through a water-slide.
Mario Kart also lets you do things that you could never do on a proper road, yet wish you could. Slow driver in front? Knock them out of the way. Is there a car right up your backside? Strike them with lightning. Irritating person jockeying for position alongside you? Turn yourself into a rocket and fly ahead without even trying.
Of course, your rivals can do exactly the same to you. There’s nothing more frustrating than hearing a siren just as you enter the final straight and knowing you are going to be hit while Bowser streaks past to the finish line…other than accidentally driving your car off the track into a river of lava or gathering of buildings. Poor Yoshi has been killed more times than Kenny.
The tracks vary greatly in style and difficulty, and as such it is rather challenging to do so well on a circuit of four different tracks that in reward another circuit is unlocked. I still haven’t found the Shroom Ridge-like track that I enjoy so much on the DS version. Tearing along a mountain road with no barriers while sneaking between cars, lorries and buses is something I have always wanted to do, and I would like to do it on a screen that is bigger than the DS. Also, who hasn't wanted to race through a shopping mall like a group of children let loose in the Metro Centre in their little pedal cars?
There are, however, some tracks I am not fond of. Bowser’s Castle, for instance, is full of sharp, ninety-degree turns rather than the smooth curves of the other tracks; and the snow covered one seemed undoable at first.
Another feature that is rather charming is the Wii Wheel that comes with the game. Back in the old days, whenever I played a racing or driving game on the Playstation 1, I used to turn the controls, which did not help a jot. Now, though, it does! Turning a wheel in the appropriate direction is so much more natural than pressing a button, and so much more satisfying as you can pretend you’re The Stig and hold a car perfectly as it drifts smoothly around corners - sometimes.
Character-wise, the usual suspects are there: Waluigi, Wario, and Toad. Baby Mario and Baby Peach are very cute, but their voices are so high that only a dog could hear them, and so annoying that should you have a dog, it will probably hate you for playing as the toddlers. Miis can also be brought into the action, but sadly, that is another joy I have yet to unlock.
The Wi-Fi connection means that players from around the world can be challenged, or simply have a race with a friend. I was rather pleased to come fourth in my first global race.
Mario Kart Wii is full of action, excitement, speed, humour, frustration, reward, and whimsy. All of these things combine to make the most entertaining racing game in the world. While playing it, my hands have not gotten so sweaty since I watched the Murray v Gasquet fourth round match at Wimbledon last month.

Burn Up - Part 1

2008-07-24T14:20:00.000+01:00

Burn Up is an entertaining, yet thought-provoking two-part drama exploring the corruption and hypocrisy of the oil industry, rather like The Sopranos did for the Mafia, and Mad Men for the tobacco industry. This cross-Atlantic collaboration sees Rupert Penry Jones as Tom McConnell, the almost unbelievably principled head of Arrow Oil Company; who finds himself the target of demonstrations by a Canadian Inuit whose land is being destroyed by an Arrow-owned oil field.
As her protests escalate in extremity, he is forced to concede that the evidence of global warming caused by oil is irrefutable. McConnell and Arrow’s green advisor, Holly (Neve Campbell), travel to Canada to see it for themselves; although it seemed more an excuse to have the impossibly good-looking pair shut up in a cabin on the ice miles away from anywhere with only a log fire to keep them warm - and predictably, they found another way to keep snug.
Another impossibly good-looking character is the droll, sarcastic, terrier-like environment minister to the Prime Minister, Philip Crowley, played by Marc Warren. On learning that his Chiswick home could be underwater in as little as five years time, like a small dog he digs his teeth into trying to persuade America to sign up to the Kyoto Treaty; as well as trying to link the murder of six researchers on an oil field in Saudi Arabia - the seventh of which escaped and fled to Britain, seeking out McConnell’s now retired predecessor at Arrow. He also has the best and most amusing lines in the entire programme, mainly because they are all so relevant and true to today’s climate.
Faced with the evidence born of science and experience, McConnell tries to persuade Arrow to invest in renewable energy, but comes up against a wall of hostility from the board members. The thought that a company raking in billions of profit an hour and yet cannot spare £2billion towards renewable energy is frightening, absurd, and yet probably true in reality.
I had expected to dislike Penry Jones’ character, imagining him to be an arrogant oil tycoon with £ signs for eyes, but far from it. When his young daughter had an asthma attack at a party for his work colleagues he would have been far happier to sit with her after the initial panic than go back to the party, even though she was sound asleep in bed; however his ambitious, power-hungry wife persuaded him to rejoin the soiree and get the dancing started. He cried while watching a DVD recorded for him by the Inuit girl, Mika, a subtle yet impassioned performance by Sandrine Holt.
The Americans are portrayed as singular, selfish, conniving men who have spent too long under the power of the black gold; but then, aside from McConnell, so are the English members of the Arrow board. As well as the green argument, the benefits of oil are extolled, but not to such an extent, and are only there to shed light on the selfishness of humanity for caring more about petrol and cheap flights to New York than the fate of the Earth.
Having watched both this and WALL-E in one day, it was only too easy to wonder with grim foreboding just what the future will bring for human beings. All of the children watching WALL-E in 2008 will be the ones who will have to deal with the issues explored in Burn Up forty years down the line.

WALL-E

2008-07-23T19:20:00.000+01:00

A dirty, rusty little robot trundles along a dusty path. Gathering a small pile of rubbish into his stomach cavity, he squeezes himself together to compact it into a neat square brick, and places it on top of one of many skyscrapers built entirely of these bricks. He does this task over and over again, day after day, year after year; and without a word of complaint yet with quiet dedication. At the end of the day he goes home, hangs up his tyre treads, watches Michael Crawford and Barbra Streisand in Hello, Dolly!, and takes care of his only friend: a cockroach.
This is WALL-E (Waste Allocation Load Lifter - Earth Class), the last robot on Earth. Due to over-pollution the planet has become inhabitable, and all the humans now reside in a giant space-ship that is nothing less than a luxury resort governed by the McDonald’s of the future: Buy N Large.
Yet WALL-E continues to do his job, until one day a space ship lands on Earth and deposits a modern, sleek, gleaming new robot called EVE (Extra-terrestrial Vegetation Evaluator), who begins scanning the ground. WALL-E is instantly smitten, although introductions are postponed a little while as she attempts to commit robocide on him with her fire-arm.
He takes her to his place to show her some of the items he has hoarded, among them a small plant tendril. On learning what it is she takes it and stores it in her chest cavity, goes into standby and sends a signal, and the space ship finally comes back to collect her, for she has found evidence that the Earth is once again habitable. WALL-E, although bemused by her shutting down, takes care of her, and hitches a ride on the ship that threatened to take her from him.
When they arrive on the resort, the ship’s captain faces mutiny by his auto-pilot (one of many homages to 2001: A Space Odyssey), and he, WALL-E and EVE have to fight to take the ship back to Earth.
While the environmental message is clear, it is not overwhelming, and does make a valid point. I soon felt guilty for getting a medium popcorn and Pepsi before the movie. All of the humans on board the resort ship are obese, and American. Everything is done for them, they do not even have to walk. They are so cocooned in their world of fast food and television diets that they do not even notice that there is a lido on board, and most of them sit beside it every day.
Who would think that a pair of binoculars on wheels could arouse such affection? WALL-E does. His eyes are cuter than those of Puss in Boots, his character more innocent than Babe, and his reactions to strange things more adorable than E.T.. His childlike playfulness and inquisitive nature shine through in his collection of various human memorabilia, and when he shows EVE the joys of bubble wrap and dances for her to “Put On Your Sunday Clothes”.
Initially EVE seems a no-nonsense, all work and no play kind of robot, but no sooner has her space ship left Earth than she abandons her task and soars freely and elegantly through the air, throwing off the manacles of the strict, strait-laced, severe regime that she was built to serve. Elissa Knight gives EVE the widest range of emotions ever seen in a robot simply with her voice.
There are plenty references to sci-fi movies to keep the fans and adults amused - such as Sigourney Weaver providing the voice of the space resort computer -, and the quality of the animation is exceptional. WALL-E’s journey through space simply has to be seen on the big screen.
However, endearing as WALL-E is, some of the youngest viewers, unless they are particularly precocious, may find the movie a tad boring, especially considering the amount of action and humour they have been inundated with in movies such as Shrek, Cars and Finding Nemo.
Yet it is guaranteed to be far more satisfying and involved than the upcoming High School Musical 33 - sorry, 3 -, the trailer of which preceded the main picture, and all it did was to make me understand why guns are and should remain legal in America.

Mamma Mia!

2008-07-16T19:15:00.000+01:00

If I was to live in a musical, it would without a doubt be Mamma Mia!. A place where there are no Top 40 chart songs, no mobile phones, where a swimming costume is an undergarment; and where one can dance along a pier while waving a feather boa and singing Abba songs before jumping into a clear, turquoise sea without feeling like a moron.
Twenty year old Sophie Sheridan (Amanda Seyfried) is about to be married, and wants her father to walk her down the aisle. However she has no idea who her father is, although she managed to narrow it down to three potential candidates after reading her mother Donna’s (Meryl Streep) diary that she kept during a summer of rather enthusiastic promiscuity.
Unknown to Donna, Sophie invites the three to her wedding. Harry Bright (Colin Firth), Sam Carmichael (Pierce Brosnan) and Bill Anderson (Stellan Skarsgard) arrive on the Greek island where twenty years ago they all shared happy memories of Donna, and unaware that Sophie may be their daughter.
For all it is Sophie’s wedding, it is Donna’s relationships with her three summer sweethearts that is by far the more emotionally involved, perhaps due to the experience and calibre of the more mature cast. Sophie’s fiancée Sky, played by Dominic Cooper, seems more in love with himself than his bride-to-be, and looks and sings like a member of a boy band, and that was not meant as a compliment.
While the younger cast members have voices as polished and honed as the pop industry can produce, the elder thespians are not best known for their singing voices, but they try their best, bless them. I certainly wouldn’t mind Mr Darcy serenading me while playing guitar as we float idly in the Aegean seas in a nice sailing boat.
Brosnan sounds like a tone-deaf Joe Cocker, while Skarsgard seems to be talking rather than singing. None of that matters, however, as it is more rewarding to hear an untrained, unused, raw singing voice attempting songs far beyond their range, and they all fool around and have a ball while doing so.
Streep had by far the most impressive vocals. She carried the often challenging tunes wonderfully with her ethereal, clear voice made haggard by the demands of running a hotel that makes Fawlty Towers look like the Ritz. For all the light-heartedness of the musical, her acting still brought a tear to my eye, specifically in a moment after “Slipping Through My Fingers“. Her rendition of “The Winner Takes It All” is the most haunting ever heard.
Julie Walters and Christine Baranski as Donna’s backing singers of their former band The Dynamos, added the most comic relief as women of a certain age who still liked to have fun. Walters’ advances on Bill while warbling through “Take A Chance On Me“, and Baranski’s rejection of a horny teenager to “Does Your Mother Know” were easily the most humorous set pieces in the entire movie.
Initially it is cringe worthy and frankly rather weird to see Streep, Seyfried and Cooper spontaneously burst into an Abba song, but the energy and exuberance they bring to them is infectious. The music itself fits in with whatever it is set too, whether it be Brosnan getting in a cab in New York, or the camera panning up a small, hilly peninsula on top of which is set a small church. After this movie, which was filmed on the Greek islands of Skiathos and Skopelos, Sky will definitely get his wish of seeing more tourists come to the island.
Sondheim it ain’t, but Mamma Mia! is fun, funny, feel-good movie, and worth the entry fee alone to see James Bond and Fitzwilliam Darcy singing famously camp songs. While nowadays Abba songs are deemed as guilty pleasures, for the duration of the film, they are simply pleasures.

Apple Applications for iPod Touch and iPhone

2008-07-15T16:58:00.000+01:00

What will they think of next? The iPod Touch was already impressive enough simply as a music and video player, photo viewer, web browser, weather station, organiser and jotter. Now, thanks to the launch of its Application Store through iTunes, my iPod is also a library, games console, torch, lightsaber, cyber-pet, and…wait for it…a piano.
For all its sheer brilliance there will still be the routine quibble about pricing, although there are some free applications available. While some games and reference apps can be pricey, 59p each for a classic novel by Dickens or Austen is undoubtedly a bargain. Whether or not one can work their way through Bleak House on an iTouch screen remains to be seen.
Games range from something as simple as Pong to Sega’s Super Monkey Ball, and the latter only costs £6. There is something among the growing list of games for everyone, from Etch-A-Sketch for the kids to Blackjack for the adults. Of course there is the obligatory Sudoku in there somewhere.
The iGotchi is, as you may have guessed, an update of the original Tamagotchi. In place of a kitten or baby dinosaur there is a little ball of fluff on legs, which giggles whenever it is petted, eats from a table, dances and plays with a football. While one can only watch a fluffy ball for so long, after a while it is shame that it only exists behind the screen, as it looks so soft it should be able to be touched.
There are also useful applications such as the currency converter, language translator, tip calculator, and even the free British Airways Flight Information.
Then comes the really serious stuff like iPint, a free and refillable pint of Carling. The catch: it’s a virtual drink.
While you’re not going to be able to perform Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D Minor on the Pianist application, the novelty of having a piano in your pocket is every bit as grand as having a lightsaber alongside it.
However, before all this fun and games can commence, iPod software version 2.0 has to be downloaded at a price of £5.99. Also some applications only work on the iPhone, so be sure to check before clicking the buy button, and trust me, you will be doing a lot of that once you have seen what is on offer.

Wimbledon fourth round: Murray v Gasquet

2008-07-01T20:55:00.000+01:00

Should Centre Court ever need another new roof, they can dispense with hiring contractors to lift the old one off, and just hope that Andy Murray plays a match of the calibre he did last night against the Frenchman Richard Gasquet: the crowd will soon have the roof raised.
Finally, after three matches at Wimbledon, Andy Murray had Centre Court enraptured. He came from two sets down to beat Gasquet, the 8th seed, and set up a quarter-final match with the number two seed, Rafael Nadal.
In a reasonable first set Murray fought hard, but could not break Gasquet’s serve. At 6-5 Murray faced break and set points. Gasquet attempted a drop-shot, and Murray seemed to stand still before realising where he was and what the score was, and raced over to scoop it up and save the point, drawing the kind of gasps from the crowd that had previously been reserved for Henman. He could not keep it up, however, and Gasquet took the first set 7-5.
After that, and a lacklustre second set during which McEnroe’s frustration with the Murray drop-shot on big points became evident to everyone, Murray looked down and out, losing the second set 6-3. He looked tired, even startled that he was going to be dispatched in such an untimely and undignified manner.
He had no answer to Gasquet’s tactics, and the Frenchman simply did not allow him to play his best tennis. He was broken in the third set, and Gasquet continued his emphatic lead - until he came to serve for the match at 5-4. He became nervous, and Murray found himself with three break points. Five all.
Murray held, but so did Gasquet. Tiebreak time. Murray quickly won the first point, and soon took it 7-3 with a spectacular passing shot that he hit from away beyond the tramlines at such an angle that mathematicians will have to rewrite Pythagoras.
In fact, he was so far out wide that he almost ended up celebrating from within the now jubilant crowd, and celebrate they did. Well done to the BBC cameraman who got that fantastic shot of Murray roaring his delight against a backdrop of standing bodies, raised arms, and ecstatic, disbelieving faces with mouths open almost as wide as Murray’s; who, at that point, looked like a python about to devour an elephant.
From here on in Murray dictated the match, running away with the fourth set 6-2. Suddenly Gasquet was the one who looked tired; taken aback by Murray’s newfound energy, and overwhelmed by both his tennis and the rejuvenated crowd. Even the Aussie fans, distinctive in their yellow t-shirts, who had been decidedly under whelmed by Hewitt’s straight sets defeat to Federer earlier that day, stayed put to support Murray, and he gave them something to cheer about.
A frustrated Gasquet took an extended toilet break at the end of the fourth set, and complained about the noise of the crowd (er, you’re playing a Brit at Wimbledon in the fourth round, what did you expect?) and the diminishing light. Play went on, however. Murray broke and held to go 2-0 up, despite Gasquet’s best efforts. Murray had chances to break to make it 5-2, but Gasquet held on by the skin of his teeth.
Murray came out to serve for the match at 5-4 at around 9.30pm in near-darkness, and where Gasquet had failed, Murray succeeded. After almost four hours, the first two of which did not bode well, Murray made it to his first Grand Slam quarter-final, beating a player against which he has never won before. Let us pray that he can continue this trend on Wednesday against Nadal. Surely there’s room for another shock exit.
It was the most nerve-shredding, sweat-inducing, exhilarating match of the tournament; but those on Centre Court, (sorry, Tim) Murray Mount, and the rest of the nation who had come out from behind the sofa to perch on the edges of armchairs like myself thought it was worth it. Some of those on Murray Mount had left near the end of the third set: they’ll be kicking themselves now.
After his astonishing victory Murray even managed to smile, and well he might. He also rolled up his right shirt sleeve and clenched his fist to show off his now rather impressive bicep. With that action he announced his level of fitness and (although he denies it) seemed to send a gesture of defiance toward his next opponent, also famed for his biceps.
Murray was sure to have a good sleep last night. After such a physical match accompanied by very enthusiastic celebrations which even his former critics found impossible not to respond to; in his post-match interview he was as calm and collected as he has been for the duration of the tournament. That is more than can be said for those who watched the match. Paradoxically it was almost unbelievable that he had won; yet at the same time, we never quite believed that he would lose.

Amy Winehouse - Glastonbury 2008

2008-07-01T09:36:00.000+01:00

What had seemed unthinkable a month ago has happened: Amy Winehouse managed to turn up and perform at two separate functions.
Earlier in the week she serenaded Nelson Mandela at his 90th Birthday Concert, and last night I caught her set at Glastonbury. Although she had four cocktail umbrellas in her hair she couldn’t have been drunk: her beehive looked so top-heavy that in those four-inch heels she would have been flat on her face quicker than a punter diving into a formerly unspoiled pool of Glastonbury mud.
Another factor that repudiated any chance of her being tipsy was that she remembered the names of her accompanying jazz band, backing singers and dancers; and gave each of them a chance to show off their formidable talent and range.
She also remembered the words to the songs, sometimes throwing in the occasional ad-lib. In an hour’s performance she got through twelve songs; including well-known crowd-pleasers like “Back To Black” and “You Know I’m No Good”, and lesser-known works like “Cupid” and “Hey Little Rich Girl”
Given recent events in Amy’s life there was something almost heroic about her diminutive frame tottering and dancing about the stage; belting out her songs in her wonderfully soulful, sultry, powerful voice while making it look effortless; adjusting and cracking jokes about her tiny, blue-sequinned dress; and yes, having the occasional little drink.
The crowd was jubilant when she got down from the stage and performed “Me and Mr Jones” within touching distance of the front row; indeed she even clasped hands with a few people. Amusingly, the security guards had trouble keeping up with her at times as she skipped along in front of the ranks of fans, who were delighted to be so close to her.
At the final note of “Rehab” she cast a cheeky, almost defiant smile at the camera, and Glastonbury erupted. Hopefully the success of her routines over the past week will encourage her to do more. Her husband is due to be released from prison in two weeks, so she informed the crowd. Whether that will help or hinder her remains to be seen.

Doctor Who - Series 4 Episode 12 - "The Stolen Earth"

2008-06-29T18:08:00.000+01:00

He did it again. Russell T. Davies has again extended the boundaries of most infuriating cliffhangers.
The Stolen Earth saw the welcome return of the large, retro pepper pots, as well as another old enemy of The Doctor. This time the Daleks have stolen twenty seven planets, including Earth, with the intent of destroying them. To combat them, The Doctor must join forces with friends old and new, leading to many new acquaintances and one very jealous blonde unable to contact him.
The acting from the whole cast was top notch, bringing a whole new level of emotion to the series. The reactions of Captain Jack and Sarah Jane Smith when they first heard the terrible Dalek war cry brought tears to my eyes. The Doctor on the other hand seemed not to hear his friends’ warning about the return of his old enemies, he was far too happy to see the former alive. One quick video call soon changed that.
It is only appropriate that Rose should be the first to find The Doctor in person. Thankfully their reunion was saved from being a slow-motion run towards each other, with arms outstretched, through the meadow to the theme tune from Chariots of Fire by something lurking in the shadows.
I will not go into too much detail, only to say that the entire episode had me perched further on the edge of my seat than the Haas v Murray third round match at Wimbledon did only an hour beforehand. As for the cliffhanger, it is easily the most cruel in the history of television.
The shots of outer space are easily the most beautiful outside the Hubble telescope. There is also something wonderful about the Daleks. Their graceful movement, their efficiency, and their inability to die. Having lots of Daleks on set clearly brings out the best in the whole production team, from the camera angles to the lighting, everything is perfect to show the Daleks at their fearful best.
Davies is certainly keen to go out with a bang. From what we have seen this week the meeting of Rose Tyler and Martha Jones will surely match the fireworks that will explode in next week’s series finale.

Wimbledon second round: Eaton v Tursunov

2008-06-28T11:28:00.000+01:00

Who would ever guess that the All England Lawn Tennis Club was so multi-functional? Not only is great tennis played there, it has also been the venue for an impromptu Cliff Richard concert, on Tuesday we were treated to the magic act of Santoro v Murray; and now it has played host to a pantomime set during the Cold War, only this time, the Russians won.
Six months ago, a British tennis player named Chris Eaton, ranked in the low 600s, began a journey in my home city which would take him all the way to Wimbledon. SR3 to SW19: talk about a good career move. After despatching Boris Pashanski of Serbia, Eaton then met Dmitry Tursunov, the straight faced, business-like 25th seed.
Although the crowd was not so cruel as to boo and hiss the bad guy, they simply transferred the energy they would have used to do that into encouraging their hero. Eaton’s (predominantly female) fan club and his newly acquired supporters were there to cheer on their man with huge smiles on their faces, regardless of the result.
Alas, the fairytale ending was not to be. After a closely-run first set which went to a tiebreaker, Tursunov took it 7-2, and once the first set was over with, the gap between them began to elongate. Tursunov won in straight sets, taking the second and third 6-2, 6-4 respectively.
Nonetheless, from the first point to the last, every Eaton winner, every Tursunov unforced error and double fault was met with such applause and yells of delight that one would think Eaton had already won the Championship. Any impressive Tursunov winners were greeted with respectful, yet somewhat disgruntled clapping.
In the first few games, the occasion of the event seemed to overwhelm Eaton, but he soon found his rhythm and began matching Tursunov point for point. While he still seemed in awe of his surroundings, now he has had a taste of what awaits him, surely he will be more determined than ever to play the show courts of Wimbledon again in the near future.

Northanger Abbey - Jane Austen

2008-06-26T19:18:00.000+01:00

It’s hard to believe now, but five years ago I threw a Jane Austen book into a skip that just so happened to be across the road from my school after a GCSE Literature exam on Pride and Prejudice. Exactly why I gave it such a swift, strong, symbolic sending off is now a mystery to me, because it was not the torturous experience that my actions make it out to be.
Our teacher was a sweet, vivacious, humorous woman; with all of us being girls we enjoyed this 19th Century Bridget Jones inspiration, but what we especially enjoyed was seeing Colin Firth in the bath and emerge from the lake. Also my mark was an A* for the subject, so I had even less cause to complain.
Now I have made amends, and own all six books twice over, three times over in some cases. However one is the complete collection bound together in a book which is more likely to be used as a doorstop or step than to read, and is for display purposes only. My other collection, comprising six separate books, should also be for display only. They are hardbacks, and with beautiful covers depicting exquisite details in various articles of period clothing from the V&A museum. However they are readable, and I simply remove the covers to do so.
My first read was Northanger Abbey, the heroine Catherine Morland. Invited to stay with the Tilney family at their residence of Northanger Abbey, she eagerly accepts, being keen to explore the dusty old corridors and rooms. However her vivid imagination born of reading Radcliffe, pulls together a string of consequences that lead her to belief that the father, General Tilney, had committed some unspeakable act. Unknown to his son, Henry, who is very fond of Catherine, the General sends Catherine home in a very undignified manner. Will she ever see her beloved Henry again?
There are laugh out loud moments, my favourite being Austen’s cynical comment that “a woman, especially, if she have the misfortune of knowing anything, should conceal it as well as she can”. Two hundred years later, nothing’s changed. Austen dispenses pearls of wisdom such as “friendship is certainly the finest balm for the pangs of disappointed love”.
Yet it is also bittersweet to be reminded of women’s place in society. Austen notes that “Catherine did not know that…a good-looking girl, with an affectionate heart and a very ignorant mind, cannot fail of attracting a clever young man, unless circumstances are particularly untoward”.
While it is refreshing to come across a likeable heroine named Catherine, unlike her namesakes in Basic Instinct and Wuthering Heights; Catherine Morland is rather unaccomplished for her time. On first meeting Henry Tilney I thought of him as simply a watered down Mr Bingley. However, in the final chapter, one sentence changed my perception of him completely, drawing forth a longing, romantic sigh from my lips and making me hope to meet my own Henry Tilney someday.
Austen’s novels are indisputably the original rom-coms. While they come without smutty jokes there is the confusion, mix-ups and hurt feelings that feature in every Notting Hill and Bridget Jones. Given the litigious nature of British society today, had Austen’s heroines been able to claim compensation for hurt feelings they would have substantially increased the size of their dowries, and their marriage prospects.

Wimbledon first round: Murray v Santoro

2008-06-25T19:53:00.000+01:00

With Andy Murray up against a player nicknamed The Magician, his first round match was guaranteed to be one of all-round entertainment, and neither player disappointed. Murray’s match against France’s Fabrice Santoro saw a welcome return to Centre Court for the British number one.
Initially the tone of the match seemed to be anything you can do, I can do better. They were both wrong.
It took a worryingly long time before Murray stopped using lobs against Santoro, as the latter invariably won those points.
They were about equal on drop-shots, with Murray managing to pick up most of Santoro’s; and when they worked for Murray they looked brilliant, when they didn’t work they looked (and were) pointless. The one time they were fully engaged in a battle of the drop-shots, the crowd could not have been more ecstatic had Santoro produced a beautiful assistant and cut Murray in half before putting him back together again.
Although Santoro pulled out a string of varying shots from his sleeve as a magician would a chain of handkerchiefs, Murray was able to answer and stay in the point even when it looked lost to him. Santoro waved his wand and produced some wonderful, crowd pleasing shots, including a bullet-like forehand across court, and a backhand flick down the line similar to that employed by Hrbaty in his match against Federer; while Murray had his scorching backhand down the line, as well as some powerful forehands and passing shots.
His serving in the first set was impressive, clocking one at 134mph. Although he was broken after having his own break on the Santoro serve, he was able to break back and took the first set 6-3. However his opening service game in the second set saw him broken, but on the next he returned to good form, and normal service resumed. Murray took the second set 6-4.
In the third set there was a danger that the Frenchman’s habit of holding serve would frustrate Murray into a fourth set; but credit to the Scot for keeping his cool and his focus. He even allowed himself a smile during the tiebreaker following a point involving a Santoro drop-shot, a pick-up from Murray, a fall for Santoro, and intervention by the net in Murray’s favour.
Finally, after 2 hours 13 minutes, with the tiebreak score at 5-6, after another drop-shot from Santoro and a pick-up from Murray which landed mercifully on the inside line, Centre Court could breathe again.
It hardly seemed fair that the 35 year old Santoro (I’m sorry, following a recent Doctor Who storyline I keep wanting to call him Sontaran) could still get to and return shots that Murray constantly sent out wide with extra spin. The intensity and tightness of the final set was such that a British fan would be reduced to tearing their hair out, but be laughing while doing so at the sheer flamboyance and skill that went into every point.
The two players seemed to bring back the glory days of an all-court game, as opposed to a baseline battle. Santoro volleyed and came to the net a lot more than has been seen in recent times, and of course Murray was unwilling to stay too long at the baseline and get drawn into long points. Only once, during a 25 shot rally did it look like a modern tennis match.
Although the rousing, warm welcome that saw them emerge onto Centre Court over two hours ago was predominantly for Murray; the ovation that accompanied them off court was undoubtedly for the two of them.

Lego Indiana Jones - The Original Adventures - Wii

2008-06-23T22:30:00.000+01:00

Having fallen for the quaint charms of Lego Star Wars and the rough charms of Indiana Jones, it seemed a natural progression that I invest in the Lego Indiana Jones - The Original Adventures trilogy.
I’m no pugilist, but not since Wii Sports boxing has fighting been so much fun. From ducking and diving to throwing the furniture and the bad guys around, it’s quite a lot of work for people who are only an inch tall.
At the beginning and end of each game stage, there are movie clips from the surrounding game, but of course, all the actors are Lego-people, and at times it is even more hilarious than having proper actors play the scenes out. Maybe instead of a fourth Indy movie, they could have done the Lego Indiana Jones Trilogy Movie.
It is not necessary to start at Raiders of the Lost Ark and work your way through to The Last Crusade, however the three have to be played chronologically within themselves. The controls are the same as in the Star Wars game, so for those already acquainted it is simple to master; but as for those not acquainted, it is still simple to master.
I must admit that some of the challenges had me befuddled for a while, but once in the correct mindset of the archaeologist it is fairly easy to figure out. Ask yourself: what would Indy do? Normally, the answer is shoot or blow something up. Problem solved. Don’t panic, it’s not all that simple.
The characters are adorable yet feisty. Marion Ravenwood joins in the punch-ups with gusto, and I never thought I would say this, but Henry Jones Snr is especially cute.
Almost everything lying around or hanging from a wall can be made use of. At one stage Indy can ride a camel if he so wishes, which probably explains that dream I had last night. Of course the famous whip can be put to good use, whether it be to swing across a crevice or grab hold of things just out of reach. However, as with the missed potential to use the Wiimote as a free-hand lightsaber in the Star Wars game, sadly it is the same case here with the whip.
Overall, though, it is an entertaining, laugh out loud, amusing game; and isn’t that what gaming is all about?

Top Spin 3 - Wii

2008-06-23T22:28:00.000+01:00

I had it all planned out. By Friday night at the latest, Andy Murray was to have won Wimbledon before the tournament has even begun; and Roger Federer was to win the French Open. I even had my tagline prepared. Alas it was not to be. Finally, my near-perfect tennis game has arrived. In Top Spin 3 I am able to make Andy Murray hit the ball into the open court rather than yelling pointlessly at the television as the real Andy Murray does a volley which can easily be picked up by an opponent.
So why is it only near-perfect? I had hoped there would be an option where the Nunchuck would be immaterial, however it is needed to manoeuvre the players around the court, unlike the pure simplicity of Wii Sports tennis. I understand TS3 is meant to be more accurate and responsive, but surely for the energetic gamers amongst us the Wiimote could pick up and mimic our movements on its own.
However I had known about this previously, so was prepared. What I was not prepared for was to find that there is no Wimbledon tournament on it; which given the timing of its release seems like a bigger disappointment than Tim Henman’s 2001 semi-final defeat at SW19. Instead, the greatest, most prestigious Grand Slam Tournament in the tennis world has been given to… Dublin. Now I’ve got nothing against Ireland, the manager of my football team is Irish, and he’s doing a better job than his predecessors; but as a Brit, to have Wimbledon left out feels like a national insult. Are we really that unpopular? As for the rest of the Grand Slams, they have to be unlocked before you are even allowed to set foot on the hallowed hard courts of Flushing Meadows or the dirt of Roland Garros.
On the upside, the developer, 2K, has created the best likenesses of the players outside of PS3’s Virtua Tennis. With Andy Murray they have done a better job than Madame Tussaud’s. He may be maturing into a rather handsome young man, but he’s not that pretty (no offence to Andy or Mme Tussaud intended). I can also now understand why he likes the size of his calves on his video-game persona.
The controls are difficult to get to grips with at first: the Nunchuck is used both to move your player and to direct your shot, and the two can seem to blend into one another until you get the hang of it. A word of warning, though, to cut your fingernails as short as possible before playing, as your hands are rather close together and so can lead to some painful scratches.
Playing the game is as infuriating as watching the real thing on television, especially at deuces when advantage goes back and forth. Never have I felt the perspiration as much while sitting down moving just my right arm at the varying number of match points I accumulated. The frustration can be amusing as well as exasperating, as are the players’ reactions. I’m sure Gaël Monfils would have had a fair number of warnings for racket abuse by the time I had finished with him. The selection of players is good, I was even introduced to two British players I had never heard of before.
I do however, feel sorry for PS3 owners. They are paying an extra £20 simply for a player who grunts unnecessarily loudly, dresses like an extra in a Pirates of the Caribbean movie, takes a siesta between each point and has a smaller range of shots than the tennis on Wii Sports. The best part about TS3 on all the other formats is that there is no Rafael Nadal in sight or within hearing distance. If only all tennis tournaments could be like that.
As I was deprived of watching Andy raise the Wimbledon trophy through the video-game, I’m afraid it’s up to him to do it for real.
Pros
Good player and venue likeness
Good control over movement and shot selection
No Nadal
Cons
No option for play without the Nunchuck
No means of muting Maria Sharapova’s shrieks
No Wimbledon.

Doctor Who - Series 4 Episode 11 - "Turn Left"

2008-06-22T18:11:00.000+01:00

I hate Russell T. Davies. When he isn’t churning out absurdly contrived episodes of Doctor Who he’s throwing out the most frustrating cliffhangers and upcoming teasers for which we have to wait a whole week to see what happens next. The ending of an episode of 24 is nothing compared to the multi-part storylines in Doctor Who.
While on a distant planet inspired by Far Eastern culture, Donna is urged into a fortune-teller’s booth where she finds herself recalling the events that lead her to meet The Doctor. It all began at a junction near her house. Turn left, she meets The Doctor; turn right, apocalypse.
Donna is inexplicably transported back to that moment, and she turns right. Oh dear. After a good start with a promotion and Christmas with the girls, she finds herself standing on the sidelines of the events that have unfolded in the past three series.
When the star-like spaceship of the Racnoss is destroyed, a body is wheeled into an ambulance, the face covered. Donna watches as the trolley is accidentally jolted. An arm drops out from under the cover, and a sonic screwdriver falls inconspicuously to the floor. The Doctor is dead.
Of course Donna does not know him, but someone comes running up behind her who certainly does know him. It’s Rose.
She of the blonde hair and broad smile is back, having travelled through lots of parallel universes to find Donna. All that universe jumping must have affected her speech, as she mumbles her way through the whole episode. Donna may have a reputation for shouting, but at least we can understand her.
Rose refuses to tell Donna her name, but is more than happy to tell her that she is the most important person in the universe. Donna is sceptical to say the least, but takes Rose’s advice to accept first prize at her work’s raffle, despite being previously fired.
While Donna, her mother and grandfather are staying at a fancy hotel in the countryside over the following Christmas, the Titanic crashes into Buckingham Palace, and the City of London is destroyed. To Donna’s disgust she and her family are relocated to Leeds, where they share a tiny terraced house with two other families, one of them especially large.
Fed up with cramped conditions and strangers looking at something invisible on her back, Donna goes to Rose; she is ready to do what she must. Taken to a UNIT facility, Donna once again meets the Tardis, and Rose tells her that she has to go back to the junction and turn left.
She is successful, and finds herself back in the fortune-teller’s booth. The Doctor enters, and Donna tells him the two words Rose told her to say to him.
Bad Wolf.
Unfortunately there is not enough Doctor in this episode, but it’s one that has to be seen to lead up to the two-part conclusion; which looks set to be the most ambitious, emotional roller coaster of a finale of the new series yet.

Meat Loaf - Bat Out Of Hell II - Back Into Hell

2008-06-22T14:30:00.000+01:00

I listened to Meat Loaf’s Bat Out of Hell II yesterday, intending to enjoy and appreciate it as I always have done. The only distraction was that my mind kept drifting to how I was going to express my thoughts about the album on paper. Evidently that skill is becoming so engrained into me that I cannot even enjoy listening to my favourite album without dreaming up similes, metaphors, oxymorons, alliterations and onomatopoeias.
The first half of the album is a relentless, unprecedented assault on the hearing senses that makes me glad not to be deaf. “I’d Do Anything For Love (But I Won’t Do That)” starts with a roaring guitar imitating a motorbike, rather like that in the titular song of Bat II’s predecessor; before a tinkling piano begins its now unmistakeable riff, and before long low drums and a wailing guitar join in, making the longest and most aurally astonishing intro in the history of music.
The instrumental in “Life Is A Lemon (And I Want My Money Back)” is one of thunder and lightning; while the instrumental in “Out Of the Frying Pan (And Into The Fire)” is one of fire and thunder. “It Just Won’t Quit” contains an interlude that always makes me feel as though I am about to be blasted off on the Space Mountain ride at Disneyland Paris, but without a safety harness.
Although “Rock ‘N’ Roll Dreams Come Through” is slightly toned down, like the rest of the songs that comprise the first forty five minutes of the album, it still contains a few moments of vocal majesty.
The second half of the album greets us with “Objects In The Rear View Mirror May Appear Closer Than They Are”; an epic tale of friendship, death, and love. The next is a spoken recitation from songwriter Jim Steinman that was taken from his solo album, Bad For Good, in which he explores the true spirit of rock ‘n’ roll.
Things are slowly brought to an end through the ultimate music-loving teen rebellion song, “Everything Louder Than Everything Else”. This is followed by the haunting “Good Girls Go To Heaven (Bad Girls Go Everywhere)”; and prior to the comparatively minimalist “Lost Boys and Golden Girls” which closes the album almost subtly, there is a short instrumental titled “Back Into Hell”.
Although some songs were taken from other Steinman projects, they were songs that cried out for the Meat Loaf treatment; indeed some were written for him just before he lost his voice in the late 1970s.
Verily, it is the voice of an angel (albeit an unconventional one) singing heavenly music that originated in Hell. If, as according to Pope Benedict XVI, I am to go to that unholy place of fire and brimstone for listening to this music, then I’ll go down with a piña colada in my hand and my iTouch plugged into my ears, singing it with gusto.
When he sings, it feels as though the universe is about to split in two from the pure, undiluted strength of his unique voice. For the most part he does not let rip, but when he does chills of excitement vibrate up the vertebrae.
Surely there never has been, and never will be, another artist with the same sheer, raw, unrestrained vocal power, emotion, volume and range that Meat Loaf is blessed with. I sincerely hope there won’t be.

Crowds and Power - Elias Canetti

2008-06-22T09:49:00.000+01:00

I have read a few horror stories in my life. When I was young it was R. L. Stine’s Goosebumps series, and when I got older it was Stephen King and Jonathan Carroll. However the book that sent a shiver down my spine from the very first sentence came from none of these authors. It came from a Nobel Prize winning book written by Elias Canetti called Crowds and Power.
It begins: “there is nothing that man fears more than the touch of the unknown”. Going on that one sentence alone, I decided to base my university dissertation on the book. Rash, it may have seemed, but I enjoyed it. Whether that enthusiasm has paid off, I still don’t know.
Crowds and Power describes the fundamental attributes of the crowd, and how they can be used by an individual who wants to gain power.
Canetti talks of The Survivor, a leader who will do anything to survive, who thrives on the knowledge that he is outliving those around him, even if he kills some of them himself. At the time of writing, Canetti had Hitler in mind; but for this generation, it fits Saddam Hussein like a glove.
What is really frightening does not come from various anecdotes of what seems to us to be strange and warped rituals or accidents, but from the fact that it is real. Canetti is not writing fiction, he is collecting his thoughts on crowd psychology, and grim though they may be, they are for the most part accurate. A reader can always relate a section of Crowds and Power to something that has happened to them; whether it be at a sporting event, the theatre, or a rally.
Not only can his description of The Survivor be attributed to Hitler and Hussein, but to many other dictators and rulers of the past, present and future. Instead of reading individual biographies of these people, read Crowds and Power and get them all in one go.
Aspects of Crowds and Power can be found in popular culture, from Doctor Who to The Simpsons; and Canetti is mentioned in Jonathan Carroll’s A Child Across the Sky, and has even inspired a video game.
Although I have only read the English translation of the original German, the poetry and eloquence in the language still shines through the bleak, gloomy subjects that it covers. Nonetheless it is a shocking, frightening read, simply because he is right.

A Child Across The Sky - Jonathan Carroll

2008-06-21T09:35:00.000+01:00

A Child Across The Sky is a somewhat morbid, yet subtle psychological horror story from Jonathan Carroll. It seems only fitting that the subject of my university dissertation should get a mention within its pages, as Elias Canetti has also wrote a morbid, psychologically horrifying book; only Crowds and Power is not a story.
A Child Across The Sky sees successful filmmaker Weber Gregston hearing about the suicide of his best friend, horror movie icon Phil Strayhorn. Gregston has been left three videos by Strayhorn, in which he tries to explain unaccounted mysteries and thoughts that have occurred and plagued them throughout their lives, seemingly from beyond the grave. Gregston is also charged with shooting a scene from an upcoming Strayhorn movie, the last in the notorious Midnight series. If Gregston can do it right, it will atone for the dead man’s sins, according to Strayhorn’s guardian angel.
Carroll examines seemingly innocent concoctions of human imagination and turns them into something dangerous. Here, he looks at what would happen if an imaginary childhood friend were to appear in physical form in adulthood. They’re not just here to play Snap or Hide and Seek. He also looks into what is evil, and whether evil can sometimes be good in its own way.
The tone of Carroll’s books is that of a dream within reality. Reading them is like having one of those awkward, uncomfortable, at times incomprehensible, yet intriguing dreams that simultaneously frightens and enquires; and that you want to know how it turns out but more often than not you wake up before it ends.
Unlike those dreams, however, on waking up you do not want to push the memories from your mind. A Child Across The Sky may be haunting, yet in a way it is also rather beautiful because of the intricate manner in which Carroll weaves his story and portrays his tortured, human characters.
Apart from one instance when the development of Gregston’s relationship with Strayhorn’s girlfriend could be seen coming a mile off, for the most part the story is undoubtedly fresh, as is the case with many of Carroll’s works.

Solar Lottery - Philip K. Dick

2008-06-20T08:16:00.000+01:00

If you thought Celebrity Love Island was the ultimate low in reality television, give Philip K. Dick’s Solar Lottery a whirl. It makes CLI et al look as harmless and innocent as the children’s reality programme Evacuation.
In the year 2203 everyone in the solar system is allocated a card, giving them a one in six billion chance to become Quizmaster, to rule the universe. However the Quizmaster is constantly faced with challenges, at times deadly, and if he fails, the bottle of destiny shakes again and a new ruler is named. The whole process is watched by the realm on television.
Ted Benteley, unhappy with his job, swears allegiance to the Quizmaster in the hope that the position given to him there would be more agreeable and morally sound than his former career. Unfortunately, the Quizmaster is about to change, and Benteley finds himself sucked into a job that is even more corrupt than the one he left. Indeed, his very life is in danger.
The outgoing Quizmaster of ten years, Reese Verrick, is determined to kill his successor, Leon Cartwright; and offers a substantial reward to whoever does so. Ironically, in a book published in the same year that ITV came into being, there was contest rigging to find the perfect assassin. The victor is a synthetic shell which can be controlled from Verrick’s headquarters by his staff, the randomness of their switchovers making it difficult for Cartwright’s loyalists to track him.
This story of deceit and treachery is set against a background of hi-tech gadgetry, space exploration, and a health spa on the Moon. While the discovery of a tenth planet in the solar system does not seem as incredible to us now as it did in the 1950s, Dick still made it feel like a magical, mystical myth; and makes you feel as though Sedna is still light-years away from discovery.
Yet while all this is impressive, it is almost amusing to note that even Philip K. Dick was unable to foresee the evolution of CDs and a prohibition on smoking within enclosed spaces.
Solar Lottery feels like a combination of Orwell’s Big Brother and an even more extreme version of Channel 4’s Big Brother - if that is possible.
The only question remaining is: when will C4 get the contract to turn this reality show into a reality?

Princess Mononoke

2008-06-15T13:35:00.000+01:00

Princess Mononoke is a Japanese animation epic telling the story of a young prince, Ashitaka, sent from his home to find the source of a boar-demon that attacked his village. On killing it, Ashitaka finds a small iron ball inside the carcass, and it leads him to a small town on the outskirts of a forest, inhabited by spirits and wolf-gods.
It is in this town that he meets Lady Eboshi. She has built the town on top of a field of iron, and its main industry is iron and firearm production. Her desire is to destroy the forest and expand her town, but the spirits within the forest are hindering her progress. Ashitaka learns of a child who has been reared by the wolf-gods, who Eboshi is determined to kill, and vice versa.
The wolf-child, Princess Mononoke, or San as she is known to the wolf who raised her, is ambushed by Irontown’s inhabitants, but Ashitaka rescues her, and she soon returns the favour.
Eboshi’s quarrel is not just with San, but from samurai who want her iron, unless she can give them the head of the most powerful spirit in the forest. Of course, taking the head of a god is never a good idea.
Princess Mononoke is written and directed by Hayao Miyazaki, four years before he gave us Spirited Away. Much as I enjoyed the latter, Princess Mononoke cannot be beaten for the emotional chord it so firmly strikes. The angst and fury of all of the characters is well explored, whether they be human, animal or god.
The artwork and detail of the animation is quite simply unparalleled in its beauty. The scenery in particular brought a lump to my throat that I have not felt since I first gazed upon the Grand Canyon.
The character and culture of 14th Century Japan is exquisitely brought to life, and although it is easy to forget that this is animation, it would be a crime to do so. It would be a great shame not to appreciate the care and devotion that has gone into every frame, and Joe Hisaishi’s beautiful yet haunting soundtrack only adds to the magic of this Japanese mythology.
Yet it is not just mythology. The social, racial and environmental message that underlies this complex story is as relevant today as it will ever be. Let us hope that the Pokémon generation will be lead to Miyazaki’s work, as it does not simply tell a wonderful tale, but hopefully can inspire them for the better.

Doctor Who - Series 4 Episode 9 - "Forest of the Dead"

2008-06-11T19:00:00.000+01:00

Having been on tenterhooks for a whole week we finally get some answers as to what The Library is in “Forest of the Dead”.
Donna finds herself in a dream-like parallel world where she quickly finds love with her perfect man and has two young children. Despite mind tricks from the mysterious Doctor Moon, she senses that all is not right. This is quickly confirmed by a meeting with Miss Evangelista, who Donna last saw as a skeleton picked clean of its flesh.
Back at The Library, having momentarily escaped the Vashta Nerada, Professor Song (Alex Kingston) convinces The Doctor to trust her by whispering something in his ear. Having previously been suspicious of her for owning a sonic screwdriver - his sonic screwdriver from the future - he believes her claim that he gave it to her, although he cannot for the life of him fathom out why.
Again having to run from their pursuing enemy, The Doctor learns the origins of the Vashta Nerada, and the significance of the little girl, who is also being watched over by Doctor Moon.
Without wanting to give too much away, it ends comparatively happily for a change. Donna is the only one to be “really, really not alright”, having been unable to find her dreamy husband in reality. The fact that her perfect man was gorgeous, adored her and “hardly ever spoke a word” did not help, and when she asked The Doctor what it said about her he mixed up his reply of “everything” and “nothing”, making her feel especially lousy.
This is evidently not the last we have seen of Professor River Song, and I look forward to The Doctor meeting her in the future. Kingston plays her as a likeable, intelligent, eloquent, headstrong, tenacious woman with a dry sense of humour and an intense love-hate relationship with The Doctor. As to the exact nature of this relationship, there are plenty of hints scattered throughout this episode to keep the online theorists happy for another 900 years.
With regards to the episode preceding “Forest of the Dead” and those which will follow, not since the evolution of the Daleks have I been so impatient to see what happens next.

Doctor Who - Series 4 Episode 8 - "Silence in the Library"

2008-06-04T13:44:00.000+01:00

“There is nothing that man fears more than the touch of the unknown”, begins Elias Canetti's Crowds and Power. Perhaps Steven Moffat has read this, as the fear factor in his Doctor Who episodes derives primarily from this fact.
After turning the mundane to the terrifying through some angel statues and a little boy in a gas mask, Moffat pens another Doctor Who two-parter in which he does the same for the common library.
The Doctor and Donna arrive at The Library, the largest in the known universe, only it is completely devoid of life forms, of human life forms, that is. There they are warned by a pop-art like statue with a human face to “count the shadows”.
They find themselves being chased by an unseen menace, as one by one the lights go out. Forcing their way into another room and locking themselves in, The Doctor examines an airborne security camera, which is actually the subconscious of a young girl in another world.
Our heroes are suddenly happened upon by what can initially only be described as a group of the outer space cousins of Top Gear’s The Stig, only to learn that they are human archaeologists. Their leader Professor River Song (Alex Kingston), talks to The Doctor as if she knows him, although he has no idea who she is, and refers to him as “pretty boy”.
At first The Doctor has trouble communicating to the rest of her group just how much danger they are in, but River’s trust in him becomes contagious. While figuring out how to proceed, the nice but dim member of the crew, Miss Evangelista (Talulah Riley), has investigated a noise outside, and is consequently turned into a skeleton.
Having seen this, The Doctor can reveal their hunters as the Vashta Nerada, tiny particles of dust that hide in the shadows and can strip flesh from bone in a split second. On Earth, they can be seen floating in rays of sunshine.
They latch on to another crew member, and use him as the means to catch the others. The Doctor’s attempt to get Donna out of harm’s way goes wrong, and so we are once again left with a cliffhanger ending.
"Silence in the Library" is a welcome return to form in what has been a rather lacklustre series with storylines bordering on the ridiculous. Once again, as he did with the Weeping Angels in "Blink" and Jamie in "The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances", Moffat plays on the primal human fear of the touch of the unknown, the unseen menace in the shadows and the darkness, and in my case, skeletons. It works much better than the six foot wasp in the previous episode.
As Moffat has now taken over as producer from Russell T Davies, let us hope that we are treated more frequently to Moffat’s superior storytelling and greater sense of what really brings fear to the human mind.
However, if your children were reluctant to go to a library before, "Silence in the Library" is hardly likely to change their minds.

Doctor Who Exhibition - Earls Court, London

2008-05-29T12:58:00.002+01:00

You should have heard the screaming.
While an angel stood poised to attack, Santa Claus waited patiently for the right moment, a shop window dummy inconspicuously flexed its fingers, tin men stood on sentry, waiting for their orders from a crippled robot, and further along, pepper pot shaped soldiers sprang to life and launched their assault.
The Tardis had landed in Earls Court, London, and where the Doctor travels, death follows.
The Doctor Who exhibition had arrived at the Exhibition Centre, bringing with it the Autons, Slitheen, Cybermen and the Daleks.
Yet while many of the exhibits were various enemies the Doctor has faced over the last four series, he is not alone in his fight to eliminate them.
Some of Billie Piper’s outfits were on display, I especially liked the pink shoes she wore in “The Idiot’s Lantern”, as well as those worn by the Doctor, Captain Jack Harkness, and the Master.
The Face of Boe also made an appearance. He wasn’t as big as he looks on television. K-9, on the other hand, was bigger than I imagined.
Indeed, some of the props were huge. The scale model of the Empress of the Racnoss in “The Runaway Bride” and the telescope in “Tooth and Claw” just about managed to fit in under the ceiling.
Others were comparatively tiny. The Big Ben model which was damaged in “Aliens of London”, and a tower block of flats in particular looked like a doll’s house.
However the villains in the show are the most exciting. Roger Lloyd Pack’s Cyberman, perpetually seated in its life-supporting wheelchair, looked very impressive despite its disability.
While there are no Daleks roaming free in the building exterminating the troublemakers, they still manage to terrorise, and are undoubtedly the stars of the show.
The first Dalek is the rather humane creature we met in series one’s “Dalek”. Its armour is open, revealing the small alien being inside. It looks rather pathetic, one almost feels sorry for it.
Then comes the exciting part. Further on, a solitary Dalek stands silent and still with its back to the curious audience. Curiosity turns to fright when it suddenly moves and turns, headlights flashing, egg-whisk and plunger flailing as it screams out its death to humans policy.
Two more join it out of nowhere, and the familiar cries of “EXTERMINATE!” ring through the room. The first Dalek elevates itself as flashing lights imitate the ray beams that emanate from their egg-whisks.
In that brief moment, the Daleks quickly stole the title of Highest Decibel Scream Generator from the Weeping Angel statue. It was like having two dozen Maria Sharapovas in the room.
While the setting for the Daleks was very complex so as to hide any wires or other equipment, it was far from having a technician pushing a cardboard cut-out around. Their fluid, elegant, unaided movements were a joy to see in person, and there is a small tinge of fear mixed with excitement as its eyestalk scans the room and seems to settle on you.
There is a lot to see and do for the younger children, despite some exhibits being rather scary. Providing a voice to a Dalek proved very popular, although the girls simply sounded like Baby Daleks.
For the kid in every adult, it is interesting to see how aspects of the television show are made and the props used to film it, although the inside of the Tardis may shatter the magic.
However for any Doctor Who fan, it is well worth seeing. Get there before the Tardis disappears again to hurtle through time and space, and carry our Time Lord far away from London so that he can once again save the universe.

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull

2008-05-29T12:58:00.001+01:00

From the abundance of fedora hats travelling around London recently, one would almost think that there was a new Indiana Jones movie on general release.
The Kingdom of the Crystal Skull hails the return of the snake-fearing, whip-bearing archaeologist, and it is a welcome return. The back may not be as straight, and a paunch is evident, but the sense of adventure and the now familiar smirk is prevalent.
During a comparatively uninspired set of opening credits, a KGB envoy arrives at a top secret government location in the Nevada desert to the strains of Elvis Presley’s Hound Dog. There they proceed to kill everyone in sight.
Jones (Harrison Ford) is hauled out of a car boot along with his sidekick Mac (Ray Winstone), and ordered by head honcho Irina Spalko (Cate Blanchett) to locate a specific box in a warehouse containing all of the artefacts the US government does not want the public to see.
Among these artefacts is the Ark, but it is a box containing mangled remains that Spalko seeks. Despite Indy’s best efforts, she escapes with it.
Accused of aiding and abetting Communist spies, Indy is given a leave of absence at his college. Before he sets off for London, he is approached by a James Dean-like figure named Mutt Williams (Shia LeBouf), who tells him of the kidnap of his mother and Indy’s old friend Professor Oxley (John Hurt).
Off we go again.
The two travel to Peru to track him down, and learn that he has discovered the location of the fabled Crystal Skulls, which together can give the power and knowledge of mind control. They find one of them buried with a band of Conquistadors who supposedly discovered El Dorado, before they themselves are kidnapped by Spalko’s agents.
Taken to a small settlement near the Amazon, they are reunited with Oxley and Mutt’s mother, none other than Marion Ravenwood (Karen Allen).
Having stared into the eyes of a Skull for too long, Oxley is something of a gibbering wreck, but he is able to communicate to Indy the whereabouts of the other Skulls, which are thought to be extraterrestrial.
A poorly executed escape attempt from the clutches of the KGB sees an exhilarating chase through the jungle, during which Indy learns that Mutt is his son. Following an ant attack and a perilous journey down the river, Indy and company arrive at the lost city. However they are being tracked, aided by one of Indy’s group.
While the alien element seems a little harder to stomach than the previous supernatural forces explored in the previous movies, it brings more of a sense of the unknown to the story.
Ford is clearly relishing the reprisal of his role, as is Spielberg in his role as director. Blanchett and her goons played the Commies as seen through the eyes of late 1950s America: as evil, interfering, one-dimensional baddies, right down to the deliberately awful accents.
Allen’s chemistry with Ford was spot-on. Indy and Marion’s love-hate-hate-love relationship was as strong as ever, particularly in one humorous scene where not even gags could keep them from arguing. Indy warmed astonishingly quickly to his role as a father, and to his son, a chip off the old block it would seem.
However the CGI, although it makes certain things look more realistic, is overused, and a scene involving Henry Jones III swinging through the trees like Tarzan made me pray that a vine would snap.
Crystal Skull is not Indy’s best outing, which is surprising as the screenwriter David Koepp worked with Spielberg on Jurassic Park, and although the dinosaurs stole the show they worked spectacularly well together. However it is entertaining enough, and the good old fashioned humour is still there, although purists will be firmly split in two.
Whatever the success of the movie, the fedora hat phenomenon is sure to spread beyond London and cover ground quicker than the ants.

Apple iTouch - 32GB

2008-05-21T14:02:00.001+01:00

Much as I grew to loathe the Apple Macs while at university, I have fallen for the iTouch faster than Romeo fell for Juliet.
Having waited a long time and not bought one, my patience was rewarded by the release of the 30GB version, as the smaller memory iTouches would have been too small.
My brother has recently became the proud owner of a Blackberry through his work company, but beside the iTouch it looks like the bricks the elite few had in the 1970s.
The iTouch is much sleeker, more space-age. It is also much more fun to use. Touch, slide, touch, slide touch, enjoy. Indeed many hours of enjoyment can be derived from the waif-like device before any media has been uploaded.
Of course it is when such media has been uploaded that the real entertainment commences. Scrolling through your music collection has not been so enthralling since the height of 12” vinyl records, when people knew how to make album covers.
In a way, the same principle goes with the iTouch. Album covers can be scrolled through at the flick of a finger, and while seeing the cover of Bat Out Of Hell on a 3.5” screen is not as breathtaking as on a 12” vinyl, it looks good nonetheless.
As television shows are now available for download through iTunes, hopefully the movies will follow, although the hard part will be deciding what to keep when the space runs out. The picture is good, the sound clear, but watching the battle of Helm’s Deep on the small screen does not quite have the same wow factor. Also your eyes may end up permanently crossed should you wish to watch the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy on the iTouch.
It is also a wonderful little photo album. Now I can take all of my favourite photographs anywhere, and at a decent size and resolution. Now I can gaze with a dream-like grin at the photo of Mum and myself with the actor David Hyde Pierce wherever I take the iTouch, and as it does everything except the washing up, I am guaranteed to take it everywhere.
However there are minor issues with the iTouch, namely that some websites take a while to load, the finicky miniature keyboard takes a while to master - and I have slim fingers - , and connecting it to a wireless account can sometimes be tricky. To keep it clean, one either has to sand off their fingerprints, or have a cloth to hand.
Also, battery life varies depending on the functions performed. It can last for weeks if it is solely used as an alarm clock, however this is very unlikely due to the novel nature of the gadget, and watching a 40 minute television programme can drain the battery by more than half.
Nevertheless, after having the iTouch for a week, I came to the realisation that I no longer need a computer. I can check and reply to my email, surf the internet, check the weather, download songs from iTunes; I can even create word documents on the Notes and email them.
Theoretically, I now only need a computer to print something out, download a video from iTunes, or play on The Sims 2; and Apple are sure to figure out a way to put all of these features on the iTouch. Maybe some way to transfer photographs directly from a camera or memory card would also eliminate any need for a computer.
Until then, I’m afraid Windows still has the monopoly on my core computing loyalty.

The Bourne Identity - Robert Ludlum

2008-05-21T14:01:00.000+01:00

Despite having seen the movie of The Bourne Identity, I could recall very little of it. Therefore reading the book made me feel a little like Jason Bourne: fragments, names, and faces coming back to me at irregular intervals, but with no context in which to place them.
A man is discovered unconscious in the sea at Île de Port Noir, a small island on the coast of France. He has no memory and no name. His face carries signs of plastic surgery, and a tiny microfilm implanted into his thigh bears a number which leads to a bank account in Zurich.
At times of extreme duress and danger, he exhibits certain fighting and survival instincts, for which he has no explanation.
After his recovery under the care of the alcoholic, British doctor Geoffrey Washburn, he finds the bank in Switzerland, which holds four million dollars in his name, Jason Bourne. He transfers varying sums of money to different banks around the world, and the alarm bells begin to toll.
He has been recognised by someone who thought he was dead, who wants him dead. News of his emergence reaches the ears of the CIA, and of a professional assassin named Carlos. Bourne finds himself caught between a rock and a hard place as he tries to understand his past, which comes back to him intermittently in flashes, remembering a place, a building, a street.
In a desperate bid to escape his pursuers, he kidnaps a woman named Marie St Jacques, a Canadian financial whiz. Together they try to piece together his past, and keep each other alive. Who is he? Who does he work for? Whose side is he on?
From cover to cover Robert Ludlum’s thriller does not let up on suspense, mystery, or pace. Cliffhangers are not solely confined to the end of a chapter, but are scattered throughout at the end of paragraphs.
Not only does Ludlum show a great deal of skill in bringing his complex plot together, but a thorough eye for detail and the occasional glimpse of subtle wit is evident.
While all of the characters are described physically in detail, the impression is given that it is left up to the reader to envisage Bourne for themselves. After all, he has been missing for six months, has had plastic surgery, and there are no photographs of him, he is a “chameleon”.
The plot is set to a background of beautiful European scenery, jungles in the Far East, with the aid of modern technology, financial loopholes and wiring, and all without a mobile phone in sight. What more could one ask for?

Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade

2008-05-19T19:12:00.000+01:00

Within the first ten minutes of The Last Crusade, we learn many things that shaped the character and fashion of the archaeologist. A young Indiana (River Phoenix) steals a crucifix from a group of diggers in Utah, claiming it should be in a museum.
In the ensuing chase Jones Junior boards a train transporting a circus, falls into a large box full of snakes, fends off a lion with its taming whip and, just when he thinks the relic is safe, it is taken from him. He is, however, given a fedora hat in compensation.
Fast forward two decades and Harrison Ford’s Jones is once again dragged away from his day job as a university professor to examine a stone tablet that holds the location of the Holy Grail. Unfortunately, the part giving the location is broken off, and the missing words can also be found in the tomb of a knight, buried in Venice.
Meanwhile Indy’s father, Henry (Sean Connery) has been kidnapped while on his own Grail quest by the Nazis. Hitler is intent on having the chalice for himself, as he believes it will aid him in his mission.
Indy travels to Venice with Marcus Brody (Denholm Elliot), where he meets the attractive Dr Elsa Schneider, played with a Bond girl-like panache by Alison Doody. She takes them to a former church-turned-library, where Indiana learns that X really does mark the spot. He and Elsa find the knight’s tomb, and the location of the Grail: Alexandria.
However the Nazis have discovered that Indy is in Venice, and so the real fun begins. Following a chase along the canals, Indy learns that his father is being held captive in a castle on the Austrian-German border. Again accompanied by Elsa, Jones sets out to rescue Jones Senior.
In doing so, Indy learns that Elsa is a Nazi spy, and never to trust his father with a cigarette lighter. Having escaped the castle, a cavalcade of motorcycles sent after them is swiftly dispensed with, as are many other forms of enemy transport that follow.
After a few more chases in which the Nazis fail time and time again to keep up with the Joneses, they all reach the temple at Alexandria together. Who will find the Grail first?
The movie is full of entertaining, amusing, action-packed sequences and high jinx chases. Jones Snr quickly turns from something of a hindrance and the character who states the blindingly obvious to a useful, informative ally in the quest to find the Grail. The banter - both verbal and physical - between Ford and Connery is one of many high points in the film, as are the scenes that explore their tortured relationship.
Spielberg’s direction and John Williams’ famous score keep the movie rolling along as quickly as the big ball in Raiders of the Lost Ark, and with the kind of pure, unadulterated joy and humour that very little action movies now carry (Stephen Sommers The Mummy series being the exception).
Having finally seen the entire trilogy, I can now look forward to seeing what the next instalment brings.

From Russia With Love - Ian Fleming

2008-05-09T19:19:00.000+01:00

From Russia With Love is said to be one of President Kennedy’s favourite books. It is easy to see why.
I have not seen the movie, nor read any of the Bond books, so this was a first for me. Initially it started slowly, especially when compared to the opening pages of The Bourne Identity. It is not until about 90 pages in that we first meet the legendary 007, and the book is only 260 pages long.
SMERSH, the Russian security service, is keen to embarrass the security of another country by assassinating a member of their services, and so eliminate one more threat to the Russians.
After scouring Europe, the small group who have decided to carry out the plan settle on England, and finally hone in on our Jimmy.
Bond is sent to Istanbul, where he will meet Russia’s answer to Greta Garbo, a young Corporal in the security services named Tatiana Romanova. She is apparently in love with Bond, having seen his file while at work, and is willing to sneak a much desired cipher machine called the Spektor into England, and Bond will be her passport.
They meet, and so ensues the obligatory sex scene. Tatiana insists on taking the Orient Express to Paris, despite Bond’s flight plans. A four day trip on the luxurious train begins, accompanied by a fond acquaintance of Bond named Darko Kerim, and three unwelcome Russian spies, two of whom are swiftly dispensed with.
The first three days of travel pass in comparative peace, but on the fourth day the real action begins. Fleming gives the impression all the way through the book that he is building up to something big, and he does not disappoint.
It all takes place within the last 70 pages, and when it began, I felt as though I was riding the rails on the grand train, hurtling through Western Europe quicker than the plot, and wishing that the Orient Express had seatbelts.
The book, like the movies, is littered with likeable, un-likeable, ugly, and beautiful people. Fleming paints a very vivid picture of their build, gait, personality and character within a few lines; and does the same for his locations. While on my train journey I could easily imagine pulling in to the hot, drab, Turkish stations along the way, and seeing the landscape from the dry, bleak land of the Middle-East to the lush green of the Swiss mountains.
Despite its slow beginnings and a surprisingly high amount of suspended belief, From Russia With Love is great escapism, and has something for everyone. A handsome British spy, a Russian beauty descended from royalty, revenge, love, and the most romantic train journey in the world turned deadly.
This is the book that made Fleming’s name, four years after Casino Royale (1953) was published. Yet Bond did not become the icon is he is today until after Fleming’s death. It seems that From Russia With Love is not the only thing to have a slow start.

Iron Man

2008-05-08T09:49:00.001+01:00

As far as this year’s blockbuster movies go, Iron Man has already set the standard, and has set it higher than Iron Man can fly.
Tony Stark (Robert Downey Junior), a technological genius who inherited an advanced weaponry company founded by his father and his friend Obadiah Stane (an unrecognisable Jeff Bridges), finds himself kidnapped by Afghan insurgents and ordered to build them his latest weapon, the Jericho.
Instead, following an attack in which he was almost blown up by one of his own weapons, he builds himself an artificial heart, capitalising on a design by his temporary helper, Yinsen, to keep him alive. He then builds the prototype of what will become his Iron Man suit in a bid to escape.
Initially it looks like a home-made Cyberman, but it does the job. However it crash-lands in the desert, leaving behind a nice jigsaw puzzle for his kidnappers, led by the mono-named Raza.
Stark, meanwhile, has been rescued and is safely back in his Los Angeles home - however its cliff top location with a sea-view does not look quite so safe - , although his three month disappearance has been quite a headache for the company and the security services. Stark’s extravagant, playboy lifestyle is well documented in the press, and his absence from the social scene has caused quite a stir.
Having seen that his weapons are being used to kill the people they were meant to protect, Stark disassociates himself from Stark Industries, and commits himself to developing his suit. After a few minor hiccups like decimating his expensive car collection, and some amusing encounters with a fire extinguisher, he perfects his design.
Cue some very large explosions, and an edge-of-the-seat rendezvous with two US F-22 fighter planes over Afghan airspace.
By now Raza has pieced together the original suit, and is poised to benefit enormously from the design plans by trading them to…Stark Industries.
Downey Junior, looking like a young Al Pacino, plays Stark as s a flawed, yet likeable, anti-hero. Iron Man is sure to be his stepping stone back into mainstream film, and he has made a welcome return
Gwyneth Paltrow was well cast as Pepper Potts, the Miss Moneypenny-like secretary to Tony Stark’s Caractacus. He had even built a car that looked like the bad-ass lovechild of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and the Batmobile.
Iron Man is a movie low on clichéd superhero antics. Indeed it takes a rather long time before Stark has even built the prototype. However given the unique lead-in to the creation of the superhero, and current events in the Middle East, it is far from the long trudge one would expect.
The script is full of witty one-liners, and director Jon Favreau creates many exciting, comic book-like shots and action sequences.
However I was surprised to see Stark driving an Audi R8, a car with fairy-light style headlights which Jeremy Clarkson once described as looking like a “council house at Christmas”. Other than that, the technology and the machines featured were as impressive as the movie itself.

Wii fit

2008-05-06T19:23:00.000+01:00

The last time I laughed so much was...alright, I can't remember the last time I laughed so much.
However I do remember the last time I moved so much: it was January 2007 when I finally got my hands on a Nintendo Wii (I hadn't wanted one until after Christmas when I saw my nephew's in action).
Fast forward 16 months and Wii Fit arrived, and proved to be yet another marvellous distraction from serious university studies.
Now we all have the chance to be the new Eddie the Eagle, only better. The ski-jumping balance game fulfils a wish of mine, and I don't have to contend with 206 broken bones afterwards. However some of the novelty is lost as your balance monitor is in the top right corner, so all my time was spent looking up there when really I should be enjoying the action.
The slalom is more involved, and it's much easier to simply ski straight down the centre at speed rather than attempt to navigate the obstacle course.
Another highlight in the balance games is heading the footballs. Before the balls, football boots and panda heads start flying all of the Miis are shown jogging on the spot in their footie kit to warm up, then the fun begins.
Tightrope tension is also very diverting. From the Miis of my family and friends watching with bated breath as I creep across the wire, to the frustration of failing and having to do it all over again.
The aerobic exercises also use the Miis. My parents throw hula-hoops at me, my Mum and my four year old nephew overtake me while I'm out jogging (the latter I can understand, but the former - aargh!), and our family friends join us on stage as we perform a step-dance routine to a crowd of adoring fans.
Even the yoga can bring on fits of laughter (no pun intended). My impression of Del-boy falling through the bar while attempting the one-legged tree pose has been the high point so far.
After that, any laughter is purely ironic as the poor scores are displayed on our 40" TV screen for everyone passing our front window at rush hour to see.
The muscle workouts prove to be more challenging, and less amusing to watch or do. Time flies while playing Wii Fit, and it does not feel like exercise until the next morning when you can barely move after a long session. Locked games and workouts are unlocked surprisingly quickly, but it takes rather longer to get a four star rating in any of them.
The technology behind the game is undoubtedly impressive. The balance board's sensors are incredibly sensitive, and don't let me get away with anything.
Anyway, what am I doing writing about Wii Fit when I can be playing on it?! I'm off to do my Eddie the Eagle - no...not Eddie the Eagle...I'm...Catherine the Crane! Here I go...
Wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!

Son of Rambow

2008-05-03T21:05:00.000+01:00

Although older generations may be aghast at the thought of ten year olds watching Rambo: First Blood, I myself never batted an eye.
Back in the 80s, when the movie was set, it may have seemed less common.
Son of Rambow tells the story of two young boys who meet accidentally in the school corridors. Lee Carter (Will Poulter), the school rebel, ropes the younger, naïve Will Proudfoot (Bill Milner) into being a stuntman for the movie he is hoping to send in to a competition.
While at the nursing home where Lee’s family reside, the imaginative Will accidentally sees Rambo, and is inspired to create his own story wherein he is the renegade’s son.
Lee is initially keen to cooperate, but as Will’s creativity spreads around the school, and the allure of fame is potent among the other students, Lee becomes increasingly left out. It turns from a “just the two of us” style jaunt to a fully blown amateur blockbuster with more extras than the Lord of the Rings trilogy.
Will is thrilled to be at the centre of all this attention, and his blood-brother status with Lee becomes sour.
Of the three sub-plots in the film, the foreign exchange students turn out to be the best. The radical, individual French student Didier Revol (a memorable performance by Jules Sitruk) comes strolling into a quintessentially English school wearing his red boots and earring, and causes quite a stir. Initially I didn’t know whether the character was a boy or a girl. Even after a scene in which he had evidently kissed about ten girls I was still unsure.
Didier quickly acquires a fan base and his own personal escort, but after experimenting with various dangerous and amusing ways to light a cigarette, becomes bored until he learns about Rambow. He offers his services as a very over the top actor, and then the floodgates open.
The stories involving the two boys’ backgrounds are more emotive. Lee’s parents are away, leaving himself and his older brother Lawrence (Ed Westwick) to run the home. Will’s father had previously passed away, so he and his sister are brought up by their mother (Jessica Hynes), a devout member of a religious group named The Brethren, whose draconian rules make it difficult for him to meet up with Lee.
The nostalgia factor is immense. From the wood-surround televisions to the easily smeared lipstick to the old Fairy Liquid bottle, every shot had something to find to make me smile. Will could ride his bike and run along the middle of the road without fear of being hit by a car, and there were no ‘elf ‘n’ safety people to ruin their rather dangerous stunts.
Through the colours of the locations, director Garth Jennings even makes the film look as though it was shot in the 80s, but with a better quality camera. The sixth form common room was quite something to behold.
The two young actors are rightly the stars of the show. The chemistry between their contrasting characters is just right, and they carry their emotional and tempestuous scenes well.
Although the comedy is not always laugh out loud funny, the innocence and sweet charm of it is, like the movie, guaranteed to raise a smile.

Meat Loaf, Royal Albert Hall, 16th October 2006

2008-05-03T19:39:00.000+01:00

There was a buzz in South Kensington on the night of Monday 16th October that is not usually there. Meat Loaf was in town to promote his forthcoming album, Bat Out Of Hell III - The Monster is Loose, with a one-off gig at the Royal Albert Hall.
Although sceptics are wary of the latest album in the Bat trilogy due to the lack of contribution from its creator, songwriter Jim Steinman, there was no sign of any of that scepticism that night.
When Meat Loaf appeared on stage and got going, there was no stopping him. In two hours he and the band, accompanied by a 16 piece all female orchestra, had powered through thirteen vocal-tearing, Springsteen/Wagner style songs with only one unprecedented twenty minute break.
For those who are wondering how it took so long to do thirteen songs, an average Meat Loaf/Jim Steinman song lasts on average seven minutes, longer in the live versions.
As Meat delivered classics such as Paradise By the Dashboard Light, I’d Do Anything For Love (But I Won’t Do That), and Bat Out Of Hell in his unique and powerful voice, he strode and moved about the stage with an energy that defied his 59 years and size, although he has lost a lot of weight since the first album.
The audience responded to him wonderfully, the vast majority using their seats solely as a place to put their personal belongings, singing and clapping along to every song, laughing at the “phone call” with Brad Pitt (they starred in Fight Club together), and shaking the foundations of the venue in their call for an encore.
Songs from the new album were well received, particularly “Bad For Good”, the title track of Jim Steinman’s only solo album in 1981, and therefore known by a lot of the audience. Also familiar to many was “It’s All Coming Back To Me Now”, another Steinman creation, sung as a duet with former M2M member Marion Raven.
Even the non-Steinman penned songs “Blind As A Bat” and the more metal sounding “The Monster Is Loose” were welcomed into the family, so to speak.
The show-stopping number of the night came from a little known but well loved song titled “Objects In The Rear-view Mirror May Appear Closer Than They Are”. It was not just because it has been so long since Meat performed that song, but also because of the emotion and soul he put into the performance that the audience nigh on brought the roof down.
Finally, the concert ended with “Life Is A Lemon And I Want My Money Back”. From listening to people on the way out and on the internet, there weren’t many people saying that on reflection.

The Other Boleyn Girl

2008-05-03T19:38:00.001+01:00

The Other Boleyn Girl, based on Philippa Gregory’s novel, is a mildly entertaining retelling of part of King Henry VIII’s life.
The other Boleyn girl is Anne’s sister Mary, who is the first to catch Henry’s eye, played with a surprising flatness by Eric Bana. Henry VIII is a character to relish. Jonathan Rhys Meyers dug his teeth into the role for The Tudors and played it for all it was worth, and seems to bring out the character of the king I grew to know in GCSE History much more effectively than Bana, who spends much of his time brooding in the shadows with his fist under his nose.
Natalie Portman and Scarlett Johansson play Anne and Mary. Despite their best efforts their affection for one another is never quite realised.
The Boleyn family are in financial straits, so Anne is charged with “diverting” the King so that he might make her his mistress, and so reward her family with land and money. However it is Mary who charms her way into the King’s favour, alas she has just wedded William Stafford.
Stafford and the sisters are given a position at the King’s court, and the former is rather willing to sacrifice his wife for her family’s sake.
Mary is the first to be invited to the King’s bedchamber, and Johansson looks so young, sweet, and naïve that Bana seems a lecherous older man in comparison.
This movie was never intended to be historically accurate; however the limits were really pushed in a scene during which Henry was encouraging Anne’s advances while Mary lay in her bedroom holding their newborn son.
Henry see-saws between the women so frequently it is surprising that there was no hair-pulling between them. When he finally settles for Anne, she refuses to have him until he is rid of Queen Katherine.
Anne is portrayed as a conniving young woman who is restless in trying to ensnare the King. Here she is the one who encourages him to break with Rome.
However Henry is reluctant to let Katherine (Ana Torrent) go. Katherine, as always, is shown as a woman with a good head on her shoulders, which is more than can be said for Anne, literally and figuratively. When Henry does annul the marriage and splits the Church, he practically rapes Anne in an attempt to convince himself it was worth it, that she will give him a son.
When their daughter is born Anne goes through what can only be described as the most severe form of post natal depression known to womankind. After the miscarriage of her son, she is so terrified that she is willing to commit incest to give Henry a boy.
Portman carries those scenes well, and despite her misdeeds it is difficult not to feel sorry for Anne. Portman had already proved - in V For Vendetta - her ability to adopt an English accent, and Johansson also does it well. As in Girl With A Pearl Earring she acts with her eyes and expressions. I half expected Colin Firth to turn up and paint her.
David Morrisey gives a pantomime-like performance as the wicked uncle, the Duke of Norfolk, who sets the whole thing in motion along with the girls’ father.
Kristen Scott Thomas is wonderfully understated as their world-weary mother who goes through great pains over her children’s circumstances, yet can do nothing. I almost cheered when she slapped her husband, Sir Thomas (Mark Rylance).
Some of the shots look like a Holbein painting, and the movie seems like a precursor to the superior Elizabeth.
Director Justin Chadwick does not turn the movie into the bodice ripper the novel set out to be. It is left up to the viewer to decide whether this is a strength or weakness. Personally, I find that a director who assumes the viewers have an imagination shows them some respect.

Sony Bravia 20" KDL20S2030U

2008-05-03T18:21:00.001+01:00

It was love at first sight. Ever since I saw the Sony Bravia 20” KDL20S2030U in the Sony shop in Sunderland I have lusted after it as Niles did for Daphne in Frasier.
Alas, the £550 price tag was a tad beyond my budget. However after some patience, perseverance and a very useful online-money-saving article in the Sunday Times, I found it on play.com for £299.
It arrived four days later, and on seeing it fell in love all over again. Surrounded by black matte casing, it is a beautiful, elegant, compact device; and looks impossibly smart and modern in any bedroom.
It also seems more tasteful and classy than the 40” Bravia in the family living room due to its smaller size, although the 40” is undeniably impressive.
The 20” is easier to carry, and is simple to install and set up. Plug it in, plug in the aerial, turn it on, and press the select button three times. That’s all there is to it.
It is a pretty thing to look at, and a joy to behold whether it is switched on or not. The remote control, despite it’s long length, has very few buttons on, and is effortlessly simple because of this
The picture is crisper than the 40”, and the colours are stark and bright. The Dolby Surround sound is clear, and the text and interactive service is easy to navigate and quick to respond.
Compared to our chunky old Toshiba, the Sony Bravias are mind-numbingly simple to turn on. The power button is far easier to locate on the top of the monitor. It is a small but very responsive button, a welcome change from stabbing your thumb into the Ancient Egyptian building block that is the Toshiba, while keeping hold of it for fear it will wobble, following a five minute search for the hidden, big, clunky button on the Toshiba.
The simplicity of the power button is a wonderful encouragement to turn the set off properly every time instead of putting it into standby, even just for five minutes. It therefore saves vital energy, too.
However our relationship is not perfect. Changing the channel seems to take a while, and the Electronic Programme Guide (EPG) does not give a synopsis of a specific programme.
Also, a built in DVD player would have been welcome to save on an extra plug and two extra wires, but in a television as attractive as the Sony Bravia, these are minor quibbles.

Curtains - 2nd April 2008

2008-05-03T17:57:00.000+01:00

Given my disappointment that David Hyde Pierce had failed to materialise in London with the rest of the American cast of Spamalot, imagine my delight the day before I went to New York to learn that he was currently taking the lead in a musical on Broadway.
Just 25 hours, no sleep, two plane journeys, two train journeys, a quick meal and a hop around the corner later I was in New York watching his Tony award-winning performance.
Curtains, a new musical penned by John Kander and Fred Ebb (Chicago), is a comedy telling the story of a detective investigating the suspicious death of a rather abysmal and unpopular stage actress named Jessica Cranshaw (Patty Goble) on opening night in Boston in 1959.
Cranshaw’s dreadful routine threatened the show’s longevity, therefore everyone involved in the production is a murder suspect, so musical fan Lieutenant Frank Cioffi (Pierce) keeps everyone housed in the theatre while he tries to crack the case. He also becomes involved creatively in the show, a western themed “Robbin’ Hood!”, putting forward ideas that will ensure its success when it eventually travels to Broadway.
Cioffi is smitten with actress Niki Harris (Erin Davie), a sweet young lady who is keen to help him solve the mystery. She keeps bringing him threatening notes from the killer that she finds, and which she accidentally keeps getting her fingerprints all over.
Many jokes centred on backstage stereotypes, and more than a handful touched on Pierce’s role as Dr Niles Crane in Frasier, although initially not all of them were picked up by the audience. However this being America, the gay jokes, of which there were many, went down very well, as did Niki’s paranoid quip about murder being “like a hobby” in Britain.
The one particular Brit she was referring to was the director Christopher Belling, played by Edward Hibbert with his usual camp, hammy acting.
Debra Monk gave a wonderful showing as the bitter, sexually frustrated producer Carmen Bernstein, and had a marvellous, brassy voice that suited the big, bold, Broadway tunes of Curtains. Carmen is determined not to give her daughter Elaine, aka Bambi, (Megan Sikora) a major role in the musical for fear it would be seen as nepotism rather than Bambi’s evident talent.
Karen Ziemba as composer turned new leading lady Georgia Hendricks proved to be a far superior actress and singer than her unfortunate predecessor.
After 11 series of hearing Pierce talking in the clipped, refined tones of Niles, initially it came as something of a shock to hear him adopt a Bostonian drawl (think Matt Damon in The Departed), however I quickly became accustomed to the change.
As for his singing voice, it was not the typical, carbon copy leading man on Broadway intonation. It had a 1950s twang, and could be rich, light, deep, high, and occasionally raw, just the way I like it.
He also had the most diverse, natural facial expressions I’ve seen on stage, although that could have been because I watched him through the binoculars more than I have other stage actors. He was also capable of conveying so much emotion through his beautiful eyes, and I didn’t need the binoculars to appreciate that.
As with Chicago, there was as much dancing as there was singing, only better. The tunes, songs and lyrics were more memorable, most notably Thataway, Show People, and In The Same Boat. The irony of What Kind Of Man? in which the producers of “Robbin’ Hood!” slated the negative critics was not lost on me.
Despite the BBC having destroyed what little interest I had in any sort of dancing, I was able to admire and enjoy the choreography, both perfectly synchronised and perfectly un-synchronised.
In the dance scenes Cioffi’s character had a hint of a Niles-like quality about it. Pierce sometimes seemed to be complimenting the physical awkwardness of his most famous character. At other times he obliterated it completely, especially in a Fred and Ginger inspired dance with Niki.
Despite the permanently cold theatre and the inedible $3 American chocolate, given the wealth of acting talent, likeable characters, memorable songs and mesmerising dance routines, it will certainly not be curtains for this musical.
Curtains is on at the Al Hirschfeld Theatre on West 45th Street, New York, until Sunday 29th June 2008