Don't bother with Walls' 'Chef's Selection' sausages, or whatever they're called. A complete waste of time. :: super 1:55:00 PM [+] ::
Whatever that means. Not dreamt about Holly Vallance as yet, which may surprise regular mumslut watchers, but a couple of weeks ago I did dream that I fell out with a bloke who then set a panther on me, then a lion and finally a shark. Which was clever, as we were in his garden. :: super 1:54:00 PM [+] ::
:: Sunday, April 28, 2002 ::
I'm moving to antville as I'm bored of Blogger. I hereby dedicate this site to super pablo and tedster, and allot them admin priviledges to do with what they wish. Oh yeah, and I've transported movie reviews and my fave stuff there. Seeya!
A mucho relaxing day today...10 hours or so kip, 2 hours in the bath, a nice amble to super pablo's for the footy, then the fantastic 'La Stanza Del Figlio (The Son's Room)' at the Phoenix. Then onwards to the Orange Tree where my ginger appendage was remarked upon many times by the vast number of folks I saw in there that hadn't seen me since said growth emerged. One pint later, bussing it to Birstall for a night wit da folks. Truly my least rockin', but nicest day in some time.
I toddled off to see 'Iris' tonight at the Phoenix. I'd anticipated that the place would be full of the same demographic I saw at 'Gosford Park', and lo, I was right. I'd anticipated that the film would be sad, and lo....I cried my goddamn eyes out for most of the damn thing. I knew most of the main actors got Oscar nominations, ergo I thought the acting would be spellbinding....which left me a touch surprised at how...hammy...a lot of it was. Perhaps I had unrealistic expectations. Granted, Jim Broadbent is lovable as John, Iris's lifelong love. His depiction of a man desolated by the reality of his love's deterioration at the hand of Alzheimer's is genuinely affecting. Judi Dench seems a bit..going through the motions...dare I say. When I compare Dench's depiction of mental decline to say, Ellen Burstyn's performance in 'Requiem For A Dream', it's left ridiculously lacking. You don't really understand more about her, or her affliction. In fact this made me appreciate 'A Beautiful Mind' even more for doing that (although that too is incomplete in its capacitiy as a biography). It does seem nowadays that her reputation preceeds her and colours what she does.
She's not helped by the nature of the script, which relies on juxtaposing the free, full of life, intelligent and inspired young Iris against the rapidly deteriorating Old Iris for effect. The effect of this is undoubtedly moving if you're in the right mood (as I indeed was, obviously, judging by the tears) - but, I have to say, the attempted segueing between the past and present parts leaves a helluva lot to be desired. Occasionally, it's beautiful, but often it's clumsy. It seems odd as well to do someone's life story and just tell the first couple and last couple of chapters. I for one know little about Iris Murdoch and have never read any of her books. I want to know how long her bi-sexual dalliances whilst with John carried on, how she evolved, how their lives progressed....otherwise, how can I feel that the character is actually being shown as a person rather than being shown for their actions? At 90 minutes, surely they could've found time for some more detail in this area?
Too often, this looks like a good BBC drama, rather than a great film. Maybe that's what it should've been. Even though it got me emotional, I found that I upset myself more by relating the sadness directly to people whom I know and have known. And if you know me, you'll know that I cry at fucking anything anyway. All in all, worth a look, but don't expect the Earth and you'll enjoy it.
Went to see 'Bully' tonight. Really hard to watch, for so many reasons. I was uncomfortable watching 'A Ma Soeur!' because of the graphic sexual scenes involving a supposed 15 year old girl completely naked with an older man. If anything, Bully is more gratuitous. The camera doesn't so much film the often scantily-clad cast as leer over it - particularly in one cheeky crotch shot of Ali of which the actress involved, Bijou Phillips, later said "'What the fuck is that bullshit? That's not OK.......I'm sitting there doing a scene and they're shooting down my crotch." Larry Clark whipped up a load of shit over similar themes with his brilliant directorial debut 'Kids' a few years back, but this is a step further on even from that.
The story itself is harrowing and real. However, a small few have questioned the depiction of some of the characters, as you would expect for a true story adaptation. Set in middle-class Broward County, Florida (a place best known previously - to me at least - for being where a record shop owner was arrested for selling a 2 Live Crew album, but I digress), the movie starts with the relationship between Marty Puccio (Brad Renfro) and Bobby Kent (Nick Stahl).
We see them trying to cop with girls, then going to a gay club where Bobby eggs Marty into dancing on the stage. It soon becomes apparent that Bobby is a bit of a power freak; his relationship with Marty is basically frustrated sexual desire translated into physical and psychological abuse. Bobby is confident and aggressive with women (or should I say 'girls'?), but way over the top - he tries to rape Ali whilst making her watch gay porn. You get the feeling he loathes women wholeheartedly.
Ali's friend Lisa (who in real life was a lot more chunky than the rather svelte Michael Pitt, formerly of Dawsons Creek), the hopelessly fucked stoner-dude who plays Mortal Kombat on acid with Derek (the also excellent Daniel Franzese). Donny barely seems to know where he is half the time, let alone be able to display any evidence of thought processes. Donny's girlfriend Heather (Kelli Garner) and 'The Hitman' Derek Kaufman (Leo Fitzpatrick) complete the gang.
My favourite scene in this movie (discounting the horrible murder scene) was just after the Mortal Kombat on acid scene. The seven have driven up to see The Hitman to arrange to get Bobby bumped off. Kaufman is projecting himself as a hard gang type, although this is in doubt; his fellow gang members all seem to be local kids who nick shit car radios. On the drive over, the whole damn car have slipped some acid (even the driver - how irresponsible ;o] ). Clark simulates the absolute lack of clarity and swirliness of the trip by simply rotating around from within the circle that the group are in. Done with a digital camera, this causes a helluva lot of digital blurry shit which disfigures the previously sharp image. When the camera finally settles back on The Hitman, you do actually feel relieved to have escaped the vertigous effect.
A lot of press have tried to shape 'Bully' into a wake up call to American parents. Hell, the tagline is "It's 4am...do you know where your kids are?". The parents in the movie are largely conspicuous by their absence. The main paternal influence comes from Bobby's father, who is trying to distance Bobby from his loser friend Marty and make sure he graduates. Otherwise, all we learn is that Ali has a small child whom her parents look after, and there are casual but rare sightings of the others' folks. They seem to have very little involvement in their kids day-to-day affairs. This is pretty natural for a late teenager; the parents have provided well for their children - use of the car is always easy, they live pretty well. It seems that this horrific murder, although catalysed by horrific acts from the eventual victim, had it's seed fertilised by boredom, pure teenage egoistic stupidity and a bizarre amoral vacuum that prevented the seven from going beyond the first apparent solution to the Bobby Kent problem. All this leads to seven loosely connected youths - some of whom had never met Bobby before - who horrifically took his life in a haze of self-encouragement, peer pressure, various drugs and blind rage. Great movie, powerful shit. I gots ta read the book methinks.