Welcome to this month's media review. Just a reminder that the films and books reviewed have been encountered by me for the first time this month. Now read on...
BOOKS
HEART OF DARKNESS, by Joseph Conrad. Around the turn of the century, an agent for a European Ivory trading company sends one of its people to track down a trader who has "gone native", deep in the jungle of the Belgian Congo. Like "Lord Jim", the tale is told through the mouth of the narrator "Marlow", who describes his journey up the Congo river, deep in the Equatorial rain forest. No wonder this is one of Conrad's most famous stories. One is quickly enveloped by the oppressive heat, humidity and murderous danger that lurks in every shadow of that dark and mysterious place. No wonder Francis Ford Coppola based his film "Apocalypse Now" on this amazing book. Only small changes needed to be made to turn it into one of the great films about that other "heart of darkness", the Vietnam War.
AND QUIET FLOWS THE DON, by Mikhail Sholokhov (Volume 1). An every day story of country folk in early 20th century southern Russia. Life proceeds as it has done for hundreds of years. Then the Germans declare war... Absolutely terrific story of love and death among the rural cossacks. The great river Don itself, with its gentle curves and lonely sandbanks is one of the principal characters, forming a backdrop to almost every scene. Marvellous characterisations and dialogue make this an important and extremely satisfying book. I look forward to reading the 4 other volumes in this series.
CALYPSO, by Ed McBain. A calypso singer is found shot to death. Then, in succeeding days, other people with connections to him start turning up dead too. A return to form in this 1979 book, which maintains its pace throughout and includes a strong erotic element. Excellent holiday reading.
FILMS
ANGEL OF MINE (2008) D-Safy Nebbou. (Fr) A woman becomes convinced another family's daughter is her own. But didn't she die 7 years ago in a hospital fire? Sounds like a case of psychotic grief reaction to me... Understated tale of considerable power, with a terrific twist in its tale.
UP (2009) W-D- Pete Docter. An old man launches a quest to realize his late wife's great dream. Along the way he picks up a boy scout, anxious to get his badge for "assisting the elderly". Charming and really quite touching story from the Disney/Pixar stable, with the great John Lassiter in the background as executive producer.
THE RECKLESS MOMENT (1949) D-Max Ophuls. An emotionally repressed housewife will stop at nothing to protect her family. Full of deft directorial touches from one of the European masters, this is a remarkable piece of movie making, though to be fair some of the plot devices, such as James Mason's blackmailer appearing to fall for the woman he is blackmailing, are hard to swallow. But Joan Bennett's lead is splendidly played, full of barely suppressed emotion.
RED HEADED WOMAN (1932) D-Jack Conway. A young girl (Jean Harlow) decides to use her allure to seek a better life. A film banned under the Hays Code because of its "questionable moral content", illustrating that it wasn't just scantily clad ladies it objected to, but ideas and concepts as well. And if that isn't morally questionable, I don't know what is. Best line:
Harlow: Can you see through this dress?
Shop assistant: I'm afraid you can, dearie.
Harlow: I'll take it.
CHINA SEAS (1935) D-Tay Garnett. Sea captain Clark Gable is betrothed to an English society girl, but Jean Harlow is also aboard, and she don't care... Harlow refused to wear underwear in any of her movies, arguing that they would spoil the line of her clothes, and despite the pernicious Hays code it is abundantly clear in this delightful little number that her rules are still pertly in place (warning: perv alert-Ed) Best line: Upon arrival in Singapore, one drunken passenger walks on the gangplank which is not yet connected with the shore. Landing in the water, he announces:
"The condition of the streets here is deplorable!"
RANDOM HARVEST (1942) Greer Garson falls for amnesic soldier Ronald Coleman. Naturally it all gets highly complicated. One of the great "women's films" of the 1940s . As an unashamed tearjerker, it is almost unequalled in its melodramatic intensity.
V FOR VENDETTA (2005)D-Jonas McTeigue. In a future totalitarian society, a kind of latterday Zorro fights the forces of darkness. I'll admit it: I decided to watch this after I saw a number of the "occupy London" protesters outside St Pauls wearing the now famous sardonic mask. It's glossy and fast-paced; what we might expect with the Washowski brothers as producers, but painting the hero as some sort of politically aware Ninja just didn't do it for me. Meant presumably as a "1984 for the Millennium", it relies too much on vivid action sequences while remaining emotionally empty. 1984 it most certainly ain't.
LES DAMES DU BOIS DE BOULOGNE (1945) A couple admit they are no longer in love. She seems to take her lover's admission well, but in secret plans a terrible revenge on him, encouraging him to fall in love with a girl who, unknown to him, is a prostitute. Once again, Bresson weaves his quiet, pervasive spell over the audience in this fascinating piece of film making.
Wednesday, 30 November 2011
Sunday, 27 November 2011
Gary Speed RIP
Wales reels in shock at the news of the untimely death of their national side's inspirational new manager.
He will be sadly missed, but after his family it will be that side itself which will feel the loss most keenly. Under Speed's direction, Wales's transformation on the international footballing scene has been quite amazing. A series of spectacular wins sent them shooting over 70 places higher in the World rankings, and Wales is now a better side than any since the days when John Charles wore the red shirt. What now of their prospects? Please God they can recover from this terrible blow and somehow maintain their momentum.
TV SUPPLEMENT:
THE FIRST 48 (Crime and Investigation Channel)
In grimly restrained tones, the narrator begins each film with the words:
"If detectives fail to solve a crime within the first 48 hours, the chances of making an arrest falls by half."
Then we hear an actual 911 call, with someone reporting a body, or bodies, lying dead or dying, a spreading pool of blood around their heads. The police respond, and the quest to piece the story together begins. All too often a story of a drug deal gone wrong, or some explosion of murderous rage emerges. As the police interview witnesses and family members, collect forensics and perhaps, if they're lucky, get a tip from an informer, the number of suspects dwindles to one pretty quickly. But how to build a case which will stand up in court?
In a sober, unhysterical delivery the films show the police at work in a very favourable light, which probably explains the extreme latitude the film crew are granted to show exactly how things go down. We see a bunch or ordinary, but highly committed professionals who day after day find themselves in the midst of the horror of mundane life, but somehow seem to retain their sense of humour. The grief of the families is shown, but there is also a sense of grief at the perpetrators, almost always young men barely out of their teens, their futures destroyed by a single reckless act. As "real-life" cop shows go, this is one of the best out there.
He will be sadly missed, but after his family it will be that side itself which will feel the loss most keenly. Under Speed's direction, Wales's transformation on the international footballing scene has been quite amazing. A series of spectacular wins sent them shooting over 70 places higher in the World rankings, and Wales is now a better side than any since the days when John Charles wore the red shirt. What now of their prospects? Please God they can recover from this terrible blow and somehow maintain their momentum.
TV SUPPLEMENT:
THE FIRST 48 (Crime and Investigation Channel)
In grimly restrained tones, the narrator begins each film with the words:
"If detectives fail to solve a crime within the first 48 hours, the chances of making an arrest falls by half."
Then we hear an actual 911 call, with someone reporting a body, or bodies, lying dead or dying, a spreading pool of blood around their heads. The police respond, and the quest to piece the story together begins. All too often a story of a drug deal gone wrong, or some explosion of murderous rage emerges. As the police interview witnesses and family members, collect forensics and perhaps, if they're lucky, get a tip from an informer, the number of suspects dwindles to one pretty quickly. But how to build a case which will stand up in court?
In a sober, unhysterical delivery the films show the police at work in a very favourable light, which probably explains the extreme latitude the film crew are granted to show exactly how things go down. We see a bunch or ordinary, but highly committed professionals who day after day find themselves in the midst of the horror of mundane life, but somehow seem to retain their sense of humour. The grief of the families is shown, but there is also a sense of grief at the perpetrators, almost always young men barely out of their teens, their futures destroyed by a single reckless act. As "real-life" cop shows go, this is one of the best out there.
Monday, 21 November 2011
Milan postscript
Home now, after the fog lifted enough at both Linate and Heathrow airports to enable, after a delay of nearly five hours, our respective departure and arrival.
I should perhaps mention the high and low points of our four day sojourn in what the Milanese certainly believe to be the most civilised and sophisticated city in Italy. The high point was perhaps our visit to Leonardo's celebrated "Last Supper". Painted, rather appropriately, on a wall at one end of a huge monastery refectory, we were admitted in a group of just 30 people, given 20 minutes to drink in its mastery and to absorb the quiet, peaceful atmosphere of that very special space. Very different, then, from the near-hysterical atmosphere of the Sisteen Chapel in the Vatican, where the crowds are packed in, shoulder to smelly shoulder.
The low point was our visit to La Scala to see Rossini's opera "The Lady of the Lake", based, apparently, on a poem by Sir Walter Scott. Having paid 120 euros each for tickets in a box, we found the warning that came with the tickets, that a view of the stage might be difficult, proved all too correct. The forward seat, at the front of the box, was all right, but the rear seat offered no view whatever of the action. Again, information which came with the tickets anticipated this, saying that it is "the music one comes to experience".
Very possibly. But while sitting in the shadows at the rear of the box, I had time to count the boxes around the sides of the auditorium, and calculated that upwards of 200 people had spent a substantial sum of money that evening to enjoy no better a view of proceedings than I did. I call this a shameless exploitation of the opera going public, who can, one might argue, probably afford it, but I still think it is wrong that La Scala should get away with trading on their exalted reputation as the most famous opera house in the World in order to rip people off. Pelagius says: it's a disgrace!
I should perhaps mention the high and low points of our four day sojourn in what the Milanese certainly believe to be the most civilised and sophisticated city in Italy. The high point was perhaps our visit to Leonardo's celebrated "Last Supper". Painted, rather appropriately, on a wall at one end of a huge monastery refectory, we were admitted in a group of just 30 people, given 20 minutes to drink in its mastery and to absorb the quiet, peaceful atmosphere of that very special space. Very different, then, from the near-hysterical atmosphere of the Sisteen Chapel in the Vatican, where the crowds are packed in, shoulder to smelly shoulder.
The low point was our visit to La Scala to see Rossini's opera "The Lady of the Lake", based, apparently, on a poem by Sir Walter Scott. Having paid 120 euros each for tickets in a box, we found the warning that came with the tickets, that a view of the stage might be difficult, proved all too correct. The forward seat, at the front of the box, was all right, but the rear seat offered no view whatever of the action. Again, information which came with the tickets anticipated this, saying that it is "the music one comes to experience".
Very possibly. But while sitting in the shadows at the rear of the box, I had time to count the boxes around the sides of the auditorium, and calculated that upwards of 200 people had spent a substantial sum of money that evening to enjoy no better a view of proceedings than I did. I call this a shameless exploitation of the opera going public, who can, one might argue, probably afford it, but I still think it is wrong that La Scala should get away with trading on their exalted reputation as the most famous opera house in the World in order to rip people off. Pelagius says: it's a disgrace!
Saturday, 19 November 2011
Milan dispatch
A close friend informed me just the other day that Milan was a "dump", but he couldn't be more wrong. Arriving here 2 days ago, just as the mists of evening lay a film of grey over the land, we have enjoyed ourselves greatly, drinking deep of its artistic and cultural treasures. So much so, indeed, that at times I almost forgot about the deep, boring pain emanating from my right sacro-iliac joint. This afternoon we climbed the 250 steps to the top of the legendary Duomo to watch the sunset, and on returning to ground level I found my back in a better state than it has been since it first went into spasm 4 days ago.
This is my kind of city: churches dating back to the 4th centrury, museums featuring some of the greatest triumphs of the Renaissance (a couple of Leonardos are missing; currently gracing the walls of the Nat Gal in London), to say nothing of the hordes of very attractive young women thronging the streets at all times of the day and night. I ask you, what more could a priapic old git like me wish for?
To answer my own question, perhaps I might add that we could have done without the threat of an air traffic controllers strike hanging over us from the moment we got here. But not all threats are carried out, and it seems this one has evaporated with the morning mists: all signs now point to our flight being on time tomorrow with no danger of it being cancelled- yet. Please God. I like Milan, sure, and I will probably come back, but tomorrow night I want to be sleeping in my own bed, as planned.
This is my kind of city: churches dating back to the 4th centrury, museums featuring some of the greatest triumphs of the Renaissance (a couple of Leonardos are missing; currently gracing the walls of the Nat Gal in London), to say nothing of the hordes of very attractive young women thronging the streets at all times of the day and night. I ask you, what more could a priapic old git like me wish for?
To answer my own question, perhaps I might add that we could have done without the threat of an air traffic controllers strike hanging over us from the moment we got here. But not all threats are carried out, and it seems this one has evaporated with the morning mists: all signs now point to our flight being on time tomorrow with no danger of it being cancelled- yet. Please God. I like Milan, sure, and I will probably come back, but tomorrow night I want to be sleeping in my own bed, as planned.
Wednesday, 16 November 2011
the eyes have it
A big problem, that is. I went for my appointment at the eye clinic this morning, and the news wasn't good. It seems my optician was right in the summer when he discovered my "Fuch's syndrome" and predicted it would make the treatment of my cataracts much more difficult. Fuch's is a degeneration of the endothelium, or inner lining of the cornea,and repairing a cataract in the normal way can indeed accelerate this degeneration, leading in the worst cases, to blindness. Great. My ophthalmologist, knowing his limitations, will now refer me to a corneal specialist who will make a pronouncement on how best to proceed.
In the meantime, I was given an advance notice of how it's going to be as I walked home from the clinic. Pupil-dilating drops were instilled in order to facilitate full scrutiny of my inner eye, and these cause a blurring of vision for the next 6 hours. My visions of having to tap my way along swishing a white cane may be slighty premature. Slightly...
On the back front, a very uncomfortable night was followed by a nightmare when trying to get out of bed. The 2 mile walk home from the hospital has loosened it up a little, and I have now put myself on a 4 hourly 1G paracetamol dose which I shall probably maintain throughout our sojourn in Milan, which begins tomorrow. We have secured business class seats, which also entitles us to the executive lounge, where we shall pig out on free booze and canapes before boarding the plane. That at least I am quite looking forward to.
In the meantime, I was given an advance notice of how it's going to be as I walked home from the clinic. Pupil-dilating drops were instilled in order to facilitate full scrutiny of my inner eye, and these cause a blurring of vision for the next 6 hours. My visions of having to tap my way along swishing a white cane may be slighty premature. Slightly...
On the back front, a very uncomfortable night was followed by a nightmare when trying to get out of bed. The 2 mile walk home from the hospital has loosened it up a little, and I have now put myself on a 4 hourly 1G paracetamol dose which I shall probably maintain throughout our sojourn in Milan, which begins tomorrow. We have secured business class seats, which also entitles us to the executive lounge, where we shall pig out on free booze and canapes before boarding the plane. That at least I am quite looking forward to.
Tuesday, 15 November 2011
brokeback pelagius
Two days to go before our trip to Milan, and, as has happened so often in the past in the days leading up to a holiday, something has gone wrong. This morning I was putting on my socks when my back suddenly tweaked; moments later my lower left back locked up. This time it it is not particularly severe (or not yet at least); I can walk relatively pain free, and when sitting the discomfort almost disappears. But a sudden movement, getting out of a chair, into a car and so on brings about an unpleasant little spasm of pain.
Sometimes these episodes last only a few days; sometimes it can last for several weeks. I am reluctant to call my magic masseuse as I am fearful of using up too many favours, but we shall see. If it is worse tomorrow (and this could happen), I might ring her.
Yesterday at work I found myself giving the same little lecture to about five separate patients. These are people who have had their cholesterol measured, and are found to have raised levels. Nearly always when the global figure is raised a breakdown reveals that in addition the level of LDL, or "bad" cholesterol, is also raised, while the level of HDL, or "good" cholesterol is depressed, except in occasional cases where the patient favours oily fish such as mackerel, when the HDL level is also elevated. So I explain this, and suggest tactics for bringing their levels down without the recourse to cholesterol lowering drugs. In brief, I suggest that the main offenders in western diets are red meat (of ALL kinds) and dairy products, most notably cheese. I can see their hearts sinking as I pronounce this last titbit. Nearly everybody in the west loves cheese (don't you? I certainly do) though interestingly, the Chinese and Japanese do not share our fondness. They hate the stuff, right down to its smell; indeed, they think Europeans stink of the stuff permanently.
So I hand this wisdom out to my patients who go away to see if they can make changes to their diets which will result in a lower reading the next time they are tested, say in 6 months. But habits are hard to change. Many will record little difference even after what they tell me are the most titanic efforts. In reality I suspect people love cheese so much they can't bring themselves to say good-bye to it. I know I can't...
Sometimes these episodes last only a few days; sometimes it can last for several weeks. I am reluctant to call my magic masseuse as I am fearful of using up too many favours, but we shall see. If it is worse tomorrow (and this could happen), I might ring her.
Yesterday at work I found myself giving the same little lecture to about five separate patients. These are people who have had their cholesterol measured, and are found to have raised levels. Nearly always when the global figure is raised a breakdown reveals that in addition the level of LDL, or "bad" cholesterol, is also raised, while the level of HDL, or "good" cholesterol is depressed, except in occasional cases where the patient favours oily fish such as mackerel, when the HDL level is also elevated. So I explain this, and suggest tactics for bringing their levels down without the recourse to cholesterol lowering drugs. In brief, I suggest that the main offenders in western diets are red meat (of ALL kinds) and dairy products, most notably cheese. I can see their hearts sinking as I pronounce this last titbit. Nearly everybody in the west loves cheese (don't you? I certainly do) though interestingly, the Chinese and Japanese do not share our fondness. They hate the stuff, right down to its smell; indeed, they think Europeans stink of the stuff permanently.
So I hand this wisdom out to my patients who go away to see if they can make changes to their diets which will result in a lower reading the next time they are tested, say in 6 months. But habits are hard to change. Many will record little difference even after what they tell me are the most titanic efforts. In reality I suspect people love cheese so much they can't bring themselves to say good-bye to it. I know I can't...
Tuesday, 8 November 2011
my wife has 99 friends. I have none. Is that bad?
As they say in Liverpool, my wife is made up at the moment. She is about to make her 100th friend on Facebook. Popular creature that she is, she actually knows, and quite well, every one of them. Her score is scarcely remarkable though. There is a girl in Palestine who has over 4000, though whether she knows them all intimately is another matter. I was on the Big F for about 9 months before I finally became frustrated by the shallowness of the posts nearly everybody (though not everybody)was publishing.
Someone has pointed out that F'book, like Twitter is all about NOW. People seem anxious to tell the World exactly what they are doing: that they have just eaten a Mars bar, drunk a cup of coffee or are feeling a bit hung over. So what? I find myself asking. Why do people think others are going to be even faintly interested in the boring minutiae of their lives? I'm fascinated by what people think and feel, about what makes them laugh or cry, what they they believe in, what they revere and what they revile, and why. Whether they picked their nose five minutes ago is of no particular interest to me.
But my wife, and my psychiatrist, worry about my social isolation. I told him the other day a typical day for me:
Lie in bed until around 9.30 watching TV.
Get up and collect recyclable rubbish from the streets for about an hour.
Write for 2 hours.
Have lunch.
Read for 2 hours.
Watch a bit more TV, perhaps a film or something else I have recorded from the previous night.
Wifey comes home and I make tea.
More TV, this time with her, leavened by a moderate amount of alcohol or other relaxant.
OK, not much contact with other humans, but is it such a bad life? I venture to suggest not.
POSTSCRIPT
Watching "This Morning" this morning (OK, it was a low point), I saw the estimable Max Clifford saying how he wouldn't represent Dr Murray should he be requested to do so. A guilty man, who was responsible for the death of one of his (Max's)greatest heroes, it would be a step too far. But he did, he revealed, represent OJ Simpson, because he "honestly did not believe he was guilty". Really Max? Really? I always used to have a bit of respect for you; often supporting the "little guy" against the dark forces of the media (eg Antonia de Sancha vs David Mellor), but now that respect is gone. That you could still support a man who every little piece of evidence points unerringly to the blood on his hands, shows there is something deeply wrong with your value system.
The Juice was found not guilty through the consummate skill of Johnny Cochran's defence team and a jury fearful of inciting riots like the ones that rocked LA only a couple of years earlier, following the aquittal of the police officers who beat Rodney King. But Max, guilty is guilty, whatever a jury might say. And if you can't see that there's something terribly wrong with you.
Someone has pointed out that F'book, like Twitter is all about NOW. People seem anxious to tell the World exactly what they are doing: that they have just eaten a Mars bar, drunk a cup of coffee or are feeling a bit hung over. So what? I find myself asking. Why do people think others are going to be even faintly interested in the boring minutiae of their lives? I'm fascinated by what people think and feel, about what makes them laugh or cry, what they they believe in, what they revere and what they revile, and why. Whether they picked their nose five minutes ago is of no particular interest to me.
But my wife, and my psychiatrist, worry about my social isolation. I told him the other day a typical day for me:
Lie in bed until around 9.30 watching TV.
Get up and collect recyclable rubbish from the streets for about an hour.
Write for 2 hours.
Have lunch.
Read for 2 hours.
Watch a bit more TV, perhaps a film or something else I have recorded from the previous night.
Wifey comes home and I make tea.
More TV, this time with her, leavened by a moderate amount of alcohol or other relaxant.
OK, not much contact with other humans, but is it such a bad life? I venture to suggest not.
POSTSCRIPT
Watching "This Morning" this morning (OK, it was a low point), I saw the estimable Max Clifford saying how he wouldn't represent Dr Murray should he be requested to do so. A guilty man, who was responsible for the death of one of his (Max's)greatest heroes, it would be a step too far. But he did, he revealed, represent OJ Simpson, because he "honestly did not believe he was guilty". Really Max? Really? I always used to have a bit of respect for you; often supporting the "little guy" against the dark forces of the media (eg Antonia de Sancha vs David Mellor), but now that respect is gone. That you could still support a man who every little piece of evidence points unerringly to the blood on his hands, shows there is something deeply wrong with your value system.
The Juice was found not guilty through the consummate skill of Johnny Cochran's defence team and a jury fearful of inciting riots like the ones that rocked LA only a couple of years earlier, following the aquittal of the police officers who beat Rodney King. But Max, guilty is guilty, whatever a jury might say. And if you can't see that there's something terribly wrong with you.
Wednesday, 2 November 2011
rare event dept
COMMENT
RARE EVENT 1: PALESTINE WINS, ISRAEL AND US LOSE
Yesterday Palestine was adopted into UNESCO (United Nations Educational,Scientific and Cultural Organisation)despite the determined opposition of Israel and its sponsor the US; the latter of which was so piqued that it has threatened to withdraw its funding to said organisation. They would have used their veto if they could, but admission to the ranks of UNESCO is by a simple majority of voting members, of which they secured a comfortable margin. True, this is a small victory, but victory it is, and such things are a rara avis for that would-be nation. But by such small victories the World changes...
RARE EVENT 2: OBJECT TRAVELS FASTER THAN LIGHT PROVING EINSTEIN WAS WRONG
Researchers at CERN recently announced that their instruments had shown that neutrinos may have been recorded moving faster than the speed of light. According to Einstein this is supposed to impossible, so what the hell is going on? What indeed. Leaving aside for the moment the fact that their measuring instruments might have been wrong, does it really mean Einstein's theories have to be discarded? I think nottle.
Neutrinos are mass-less particles (whatever that inherent paradox means)and as it is mass that limits everything to the velocity of light as a maximum, this rule does NOT apply to the neutrino. Funny thing is, neutrinos do not have mass, but they DO have momentum, and here's another paradox: momentum is the product of mass x velocity, so how come? I have heard this troubling concept described as "disembodied spin" - now there's a head-fuck for you. The fact is, particle physics is full of these head-fucks: for example, I heard the astronomer Brian Cox saying the other day that electrons are capable of being at every point in the Universe simultaneously- say what? It is probably best not to argue with the large-brained toothy one, but where does it leave us? I think I need another drink...
RARE EVENT 1: PALESTINE WINS, ISRAEL AND US LOSE
Yesterday Palestine was adopted into UNESCO (United Nations Educational,Scientific and Cultural Organisation)despite the determined opposition of Israel and its sponsor the US; the latter of which was so piqued that it has threatened to withdraw its funding to said organisation. They would have used their veto if they could, but admission to the ranks of UNESCO is by a simple majority of voting members, of which they secured a comfortable margin. True, this is a small victory, but victory it is, and such things are a rara avis for that would-be nation. But by such small victories the World changes...
RARE EVENT 2: OBJECT TRAVELS FASTER THAN LIGHT PROVING EINSTEIN WAS WRONG
Researchers at CERN recently announced that their instruments had shown that neutrinos may have been recorded moving faster than the speed of light. According to Einstein this is supposed to impossible, so what the hell is going on? What indeed. Leaving aside for the moment the fact that their measuring instruments might have been wrong, does it really mean Einstein's theories have to be discarded? I think nottle.
Neutrinos are mass-less particles (whatever that inherent paradox means)and as it is mass that limits everything to the velocity of light as a maximum, this rule does NOT apply to the neutrino. Funny thing is, neutrinos do not have mass, but they DO have momentum, and here's another paradox: momentum is the product of mass x velocity, so how come? I have heard this troubling concept described as "disembodied spin" - now there's a head-fuck for you. The fact is, particle physics is full of these head-fucks: for example, I heard the astronomer Brian Cox saying the other day that electrons are capable of being at every point in the Universe simultaneously- say what? It is probably best not to argue with the large-brained toothy one, but where does it leave us? I think I need another drink...
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