BOOKS
THE LAUGHING POLICEMAN, by Maj Stowell and Per Waloo. A bus veers off the road in central Stockholm. There are 8 people on board- and they've all been shot dead with a sub-machine gun. This is the 4th in the famous "Martin Beck" series, which set a new standard in gritty, but understated realism in police matters. There are more famous Swedish writers out there now, Nenning Mankel for instance, but I'm sure he would acknowledge a huge debt to his predecessors. Mankel's most notable writing trick, that of injecting a little domestic dimension into the narrative, has been lifted straight from these 10 books, where we are allowed brief, tantalising insights into the home life of the detectives tasked with solving hideous crimes against the person. If you like a crime thriller, you can't afford to ignore these classics of the genre.
THE DUKE'S CHILDREN, by Anthony Trollope. The last of the 6 "Palliser" novels, where the Duke of Omnium, having just lost his devoted wife, is given little time to grieve by his errant children. The youngest loses a fortune at the card table, while the elder son and his sister both want to marry commoners. Unthinkable! Trollope's books were, like Dickens, the soaps of their day, and they read as such, every chapter has a fresh crisis to be negotiated, every page is a marvel of prose writing. I read the first in the series ("Phineas Finn") last year, and I have negligently skipped to the last one this year. Maybe I'll find myself needing to fill in the gaps before too long.
FILMS
APOLLO 18 (2011) D- Gonzalo Lopez Gallego. NASA sends up another craft to the Moon, but in secret- why? The crew soon find out, to their horror... Shot in a grainy, jerky style reminiscent of "The Blair Witch Project", it has some powerful moments, but ultimately fails to engage us fully. But some of the shots of the astronauts on the lunar surface look remarkably authentic.
PUSS IN BOOTS (2011) D- Chris Miller. The further adventures of the character we grew to love in the Shrek movies. Shame then, that it lacks the skill of writing and direction that made those films great fun. This, I'm afraid, is just annoying. Don't bother.
AJAMI (2009) W-D-Scandar Copti and Yaron Shani. Ajami is an Arab town in Israel, and within its city limits, Arabs, Jews and Christians live out their complicated lives as best they can under those strange circumstances. A man is shot during a dispute over money and honour, and thereafter, in "Rashomon" style, the story is retold from several different perspectives. Splendid attempt at showing the in-built conflicts inherent in a place where 3 cultures collide.
HOWARD'S END (1992) D-Merchant/Ivory. A middle class family on its uppers become entangled with rich, upper class neighbours. By chance a working class couple also become involved in the skein of events. E.M. Forster was fascinated by the inner workings of class in early 20th century Britain, and the Merchant/ Ivory team does more than justice to the great man's book. The film is beautifully photographed: several shots look like paintings from Renoir or Pisarro, and the calibre of acting involved is extremely high. Recommended.
KILLERS (2011) D- Robert Lutekik. A very good-looking young assassin (hired by the CIA) is on mission in Nice when he falls for an even younger American beauty. Things get confused, you know... Oh dear, how many more assassin movies do we have to sit through before Hollywood is done with this wholly improbable genre? Ketherine Heigl (you may remember her as the ditsy doc in "Grey's Anatomy". You don't? Neither do I) is certainly decorative enough, and Ashton Kutcher puts on display much of what Demi must have found so attractive about him, but really. Enough with the hit man movies already! We're bored!
A SEPARATION (2011) D- Asgar Farhadi. An Iranian mum obtains, after great difficulty, a visa to enter the US and wants to go, but her husband's dad has Alzheimer's, and he doesn't feel he can leave him in the lurch. Hence the title of the film, which chronicles the tricky process of separation in an Islamic state controlled through Sharia law. A deeply moving and honestly made movie of life in Iran in the 21st century, which draws us in to its strange, faceless world and poses the question: is our system really any better? Film of the month, and possibly of the whole year. Terrific.
Thursday, 30 August 2012
Wednesday, 29 August 2012
The greatest man in History?
In terms of his achievement, Neil Armstrong, who died at the weekend aged 82, might qualify as the greatest man who ever lived. Allow me to explain. From the objective standpoint of an extra-terrestrial society, there are three markers for the civilisation of any culture:
1. When it is first able to climb beyond the atmosphere of its planet, escape its gravitational embrace and travel across the airless, icy vacuum of space and walk upon the most adjacent planetary body.
2. When it is able to construct a craft capable of carrying one or more of its number the far greater distance to the next proper planet in its solar system.
3. When it is capable of bridging the immense distances involved and literally reach out to the stars.
Neil Armstrong was the first human to leap the first giant hurdle and thereby put humanity on the map of galactic culture. Last weekend too, the Mars rover "Curiosity" started sending the first high resolution images from the Red Planet, in a prelude to what must surely come soon (if not in my lifetime); namely landing human beings on Mars. It would be wonderful if the USA, China, Russia and Europe could get together for such an enterprise, for if the Earth worked together, there would be almost nothing we could not achieve. But for that to happen, as Arthur C Clarke has pointed out, the human race has first to realise that the exploration of space is the one activity that is as exciting as war. Then we could begin the quest to fill criterion no. 3 and journey to the stars.
1. When it is first able to climb beyond the atmosphere of its planet, escape its gravitational embrace and travel across the airless, icy vacuum of space and walk upon the most adjacent planetary body.
2. When it is able to construct a craft capable of carrying one or more of its number the far greater distance to the next proper planet in its solar system.
3. When it is capable of bridging the immense distances involved and literally reach out to the stars.
Neil Armstrong was the first human to leap the first giant hurdle and thereby put humanity on the map of galactic culture. Last weekend too, the Mars rover "Curiosity" started sending the first high resolution images from the Red Planet, in a prelude to what must surely come soon (if not in my lifetime); namely landing human beings on Mars. It would be wonderful if the USA, China, Russia and Europe could get together for such an enterprise, for if the Earth worked together, there would be almost nothing we could not achieve. But for that to happen, as Arthur C Clarke has pointed out, the human race has first to realise that the exploration of space is the one activity that is as exciting as war. Then we could begin the quest to fill criterion no. 3 and journey to the stars.
Saturday, 25 August 2012
day of radiance and dark clouds
Yesterday, my wife and I took our annual pilgrimage to "the Boy's Pool", high in the Brecon Beacons. After a strenuous little climb from the car park, one can find a delightful little plunge pool in the high waters of the River Tawe. We plunge briefly into its dark, healing waters and call upon the Great Spirit to take good care of our son, lost 6 years ago this weekend.
The weather on the way up was amazing. The forecast had warned of heavy rain showers all day, but in the event it was actually quite balmy. Humid air was passing swiftly through the valleys, causing the bubbling cumulus clouds above us to arrange constantly changing shapes and shades of dark and light. These patters wheeled across the mountainsides in an exquisite beauty.
Just a mile before we reached our destination, a pure white rabbit ran out across the country road a few yards in front of us. It waited and watched us as we passed by, only scampering away after we had gone. We looked at each other as we spotted it, then said no more about it until an hour later, when having completed our little tribute to the River spirits, we drove back down the mountain road. And as we passed the place where we had seen the white rabbit, my wife said:
"That was him, bet you. It was just like him."
It was one of those perfect little moments.
The journey home continued to be graced by wonderful processions of light and shade passing over the steep hills and valleys of the Vale of Glamorgan. It's a pretty road whatever the weather, but on this day the light show formed by the passing clouds continued all the way home too, gracing it as never before.
But the cumulus thickened in the afternoon, huge storm clouds appeared and there were peals of thunder. But it remained delightfully warm throughout. A strange, and almost wondrous day.
The weather on the way up was amazing. The forecast had warned of heavy rain showers all day, but in the event it was actually quite balmy. Humid air was passing swiftly through the valleys, causing the bubbling cumulus clouds above us to arrange constantly changing shapes and shades of dark and light. These patters wheeled across the mountainsides in an exquisite beauty.
Just a mile before we reached our destination, a pure white rabbit ran out across the country road a few yards in front of us. It waited and watched us as we passed by, only scampering away after we had gone. We looked at each other as we spotted it, then said no more about it until an hour later, when having completed our little tribute to the River spirits, we drove back down the mountain road. And as we passed the place where we had seen the white rabbit, my wife said:
"That was him, bet you. It was just like him."
It was one of those perfect little moments.
The journey home continued to be graced by wonderful processions of light and shade passing over the steep hills and valleys of the Vale of Glamorgan. It's a pretty road whatever the weather, but on this day the light show formed by the passing clouds continued all the way home too, gracing it as never before.
But the cumulus thickened in the afternoon, huge storm clouds appeared and there were peals of thunder. But it remained delightfully warm throughout. A strange, and almost wondrous day.
Thursday, 23 August 2012
The persistence of memory (not)
This morning I had one of the most frustrating telephone conversations of my life. I was trying to help my mum, who has well advanced Alzheimer's disease, with her upcoming appointments, which have become totally confused in her addled mind. I explained, slowly and carefully, the arrangements to her, not once, not twice, but TWELVE times before I was satisfied (and even then, not completely) that she understood what was in place and what was not.
"No, M isn't coming then, so cross that out in your diary now. Have you done that?"
"Yes. Now,when is M coming?"
Variations on that theme continued for the next half hour.
A report recently suggested that any life style issues concerned with reduced blood flow to the brain are risk factors for Alzheimer's: obesity, smoking, high blood pressure etc. But neither my mum, nor my father in law, whose memory loss is even more severe, have ever had any of these problems. Where does that leave us? For me, I've decided to lose a little weight, mainly to look better naked (is there a better reason?) but now also to ward the onset of brain rot. Truth is, I suspect, that Alzheimer's is a lottery: some of of us win, but most of us lose. Let's hope I stay lucky (and you too)
COMMENT
Details have emerged about Julian Assange's sex crimes. Turns out he had already had consensual sex with a woman, then tried to do it again while she was asleep. This second act she objected to as it was without her consent. Since then a number of notables have stood up in his defence, including gorgeous George Galloway. Women's rights groups have been less supportive, however. They say sexual relations without the consent of one party is rape, and they have the law (in the UK at any rate) on their side.
I have blogged before about the fact that there are different levels of seriousness in rape. Being attacked by a masked stranger in the street who holds a knife to the woman's throat while raping her is obviously far more serious than what Assange is being charged with, which does not exonerate him in any way. And while I have reservations about the underlying political motivation of the Swedish authorities, who may be being pressured by the US to extradite him so they can put him away forever for compromising their national security, the fact remains that Assange does seem to have a case to answer in Sweden, whether Georgie agrees or not.
"No, M isn't coming then, so cross that out in your diary now. Have you done that?"
"Yes. Now,when is M coming?"
Variations on that theme continued for the next half hour.
A report recently suggested that any life style issues concerned with reduced blood flow to the brain are risk factors for Alzheimer's: obesity, smoking, high blood pressure etc. But neither my mum, nor my father in law, whose memory loss is even more severe, have ever had any of these problems. Where does that leave us? For me, I've decided to lose a little weight, mainly to look better naked (is there a better reason?) but now also to ward the onset of brain rot. Truth is, I suspect, that Alzheimer's is a lottery: some of of us win, but most of us lose. Let's hope I stay lucky (and you too)
COMMENT
Details have emerged about Julian Assange's sex crimes. Turns out he had already had consensual sex with a woman, then tried to do it again while she was asleep. This second act she objected to as it was without her consent. Since then a number of notables have stood up in his defence, including gorgeous George Galloway. Women's rights groups have been less supportive, however. They say sexual relations without the consent of one party is rape, and they have the law (in the UK at any rate) on their side.
I have blogged before about the fact that there are different levels of seriousness in rape. Being attacked by a masked stranger in the street who holds a knife to the woman's throat while raping her is obviously far more serious than what Assange is being charged with, which does not exonerate him in any way. And while I have reservations about the underlying political motivation of the Swedish authorities, who may be being pressured by the US to extradite him so they can put him away forever for compromising their national security, the fact remains that Assange does seem to have a case to answer in Sweden, whether Georgie agrees or not.
Wednesday, 22 August 2012
Scandinavian dispatch
Just home from our one week's stay in Denmark and Sweden, sporting a totally unexpected suntan. We had taken half a suitcase-full of winter clothing, but they remained pristine and unused, the whole region having basked in one of the hottest spells seen since the 1940s. The blond ones clearly being unused to such temperatures (in the low 30s every day), our hotel rooms, while featuring triple glazed windows and radiators on every wall, air con was nowhere to be found, and as a result the rooms were oppressively hot.
Copenhagen is an advanced, sophisticated city and definitely heaven if your preference is for tall, willowy blonds with wearing the shortest of shorts over the longest of legs. Everyone speaks English of a high standard and are friendly and welcoming to tourists. I, however, was struggling with quite disabling back muscle spasm, which rendered the exploration of the city difficult, though I did my best to ignore it and make the most of our stay. On the 4th day, with the pain receding, we hired a car (fyi, a Honda CRV) and made the 100 km trip across the Oresund Bridge to the southern Swedish town of Ystad, setting for several of Henning Mankel's "Wallander" books. With the weather holding out we used our time in more rural pursuits, searching out Viking stone circles and neolithic burial mounds, between trips to the beaches, which featured the most delightful, soft white sand, againstwhich lapped the dark waters of the Baltic Sea. Twice we took a dip and found it surprisingly warm. One tends to think of the Baltic as one of the less appealing places in which to swim, and doubtless it is during much of the year. But it seems we were lucky.
Humorous moments dept:
1. Eating breakfast in Ystad on the first morning, we noticed how quiet it was. "It almost needs music", my wife pointed out. But what? We could think of Norwegian composers (Grieg, Nielsen) and Finnish ones (Sibelius), but what of of Swedish? After a moment's consideration, I came up with Benny and Bjorn. But, my my wife asked, what would I choose? To which I offered:
"How about 'Thank you for the muesli?'"
2. Searching for a parking place on our last day in Copenhagen, I thought I'd found a convenient spot, but my wife stopped me in my tracks:
"You can't park there! That's reserved for the Portuguese ambassador!"
A great little break. And who'd have thought that we'd return from Scandinavia and feel an unaccustomed chill in the air when we returned to England?
Copenhagen is an advanced, sophisticated city and definitely heaven if your preference is for tall, willowy blonds with wearing the shortest of shorts over the longest of legs. Everyone speaks English of a high standard and are friendly and welcoming to tourists. I, however, was struggling with quite disabling back muscle spasm, which rendered the exploration of the city difficult, though I did my best to ignore it and make the most of our stay. On the 4th day, with the pain receding, we hired a car (fyi, a Honda CRV) and made the 100 km trip across the Oresund Bridge to the southern Swedish town of Ystad, setting for several of Henning Mankel's "Wallander" books. With the weather holding out we used our time in more rural pursuits, searching out Viking stone circles and neolithic burial mounds, between trips to the beaches, which featured the most delightful, soft white sand, againstwhich lapped the dark waters of the Baltic Sea. Twice we took a dip and found it surprisingly warm. One tends to think of the Baltic as one of the less appealing places in which to swim, and doubtless it is during much of the year. But it seems we were lucky.
Humorous moments dept:
1. Eating breakfast in Ystad on the first morning, we noticed how quiet it was. "It almost needs music", my wife pointed out. But what? We could think of Norwegian composers (Grieg, Nielsen) and Finnish ones (Sibelius), but what of of Swedish? After a moment's consideration, I came up with Benny and Bjorn. But, my my wife asked, what would I choose? To which I offered:
"How about 'Thank you for the muesli?'"
2. Searching for a parking place on our last day in Copenhagen, I thought I'd found a convenient spot, but my wife stopped me in my tracks:
"You can't park there! That's reserved for the Portuguese ambassador!"
A great little break. And who'd have thought that we'd return from Scandinavia and feel an unaccustomed chill in the air when we returned to England?
Monday, 13 August 2012
Olympic report
Super Saturday mark 2 proved to be almost as good as the first one, especially with Mo's superb victory in the 5000 metres underlining the fact that he is a brilliant tactician as well as some black guy who can run fast, And we've all seen how (eg Paula Radlciffe, Mo himself as recently as last year) you need both to be a champion.
I have never really taken much interest in closing ceremonies before, so my expectations weren't high, especially knowing Danny Boyle didn't direct it. But it was quite good, taking one of Boyle's best ideas, namely using lots of great British pop to remind the world of our immense body of excellence in that field. Having said that, some of the acts I could have done without, such as big George (presumably he had a driver; it wouldn't have been wise to let him drive himself, now would it?)
For me the high point was the playing of John Lennon's sublime rendering of "Imagine", one of the greatest songs ever written. Oh, the tears flowed at that, and for all the wonderful things we have witnessed in the last 16 days. Thanks Britain! You did great!
I have never really taken much interest in closing ceremonies before, so my expectations weren't high, especially knowing Danny Boyle didn't direct it. But it was quite good, taking one of Boyle's best ideas, namely using lots of great British pop to remind the world of our immense body of excellence in that field. Having said that, some of the acts I could have done without, such as big George (presumably he had a driver; it wouldn't have been wise to let him drive himself, now would it?)
For me the high point was the playing of John Lennon's sublime rendering of "Imagine", one of the greatest songs ever written. Oh, the tears flowed at that, and for all the wonderful things we have witnessed in the last 16 days. Thanks Britain! You did great!
Saturday, 11 August 2012
Olympic report
WHAT'S HOT AND WHAT'S NOT AT THIS YEAR'S GAMES
HOT
First and foremost: all our gold medal winners. My God, they're going to be handing out a few gongs in the New Year's honours list, OBEs at least, and some are surely up for knighthoods and dameships (if that is a word)
As for Lord Coe, well, they haven't made a commoner an earl since Harold McMillan was made the Earl of Stockton in 1992. I'd have said "Gamesmaster General" could be next in line. As for Boris, he's done so well they may sack David and install him as PM right now, if vox pop had anything to do with it (which fortunately for the now rather overweight leader, it isn't)
Michael Johnson. A legendary figure who is also intelligent, articulate and extremely well informed. Like.
Brendan Foster. One of our national treasures, even though he never won a gold medal, he's still an iconic (sorry) figure in British athletics, and is a first rate broadcaster too. He knows whereof he speaks, and tells us beautifully and with restrained, but infectious enthusiasm. Like a lot.
BMX biking. BMX to conventional cycling is a bit like snowboarding to alpine skiing. The competitors are young, cool and talented, just like the snowboarders, and the sport adds a new and highly enjoyable dimension to the Games as a whole. Great stuff.
10K swimming. Absorbing television, one wonders why this hasn't been part of the programme before. And it offers another example of the increasing emancipation of women in sport: they make the girls swim as far as the boys. And they're not far behind either...
NOT HOT
John Inverdale. He's like that guy down the pub who's in the quiz team and is unbearably smug because of it. He's a rubbish interviewer and generally a poor journalist. Dislike.
Denise Lewis. Here at least we have a genuine athlete who has competed and prevailed at the highest level, but as we have seen with Sally Gunnell, and even more disastrously, Kathy Freeman (remember when she was taken on by the BBC during the Sydney games, only for it to emerge that she was so thick they had to get rid of her within a couple of days?), a good athlete does not necessarily make a good broadcaster. She can drone on and on with an endless series of self evident facts which seems acceptable to the Beeb, but hello? She's broing, she's dull and they should get rid of her now.
Colin Jackson. The great Welsh nearly-man is OK in small doses, but all this exposure has gone to his head a bit and next to MJ, again and again he is to be found wanting.
TaeKwondo and judo. Two martial arts that have no place in the modern games. TKD is supposed to involve blows with the hands as well as the feet- OK, have you ever seen a single punch even launched, never mind land on target? It's just 2 opponents dancing around a ring trying and nearly always failing to kick each other in the head.
Judo is 2 opponents grabbing onto each other's lapels and then stumbling around seemingly for hours on end until one of them makes the other fall over. Spectator sports they ain't, and like it or not, that has to be a criterion for inclusion in a modern games.
Synchronised diving. Don't get me started.
Rhythmic gymnastics. It isn't gymnastics, it isn't circus; what the hell is it?
Football, tennis and (at Rio, allegedly) golf. Sports that have huge, global showcases, the World Cup, the grand slams, the majors, don't need to be represented. Leave em out, I say. If not, we could be seeing moto-cross, eating contests and even (and this is not so far-fetched, considering the enormous clout of the big players in that sport), Formula One. God help us...
Women's boxing: You've come a long way baby, but was it a road you really wanted to go down? I accept that boxers are bona fide athletes, but as a doctor I have always had a problem with a sport where rule 1 is: induce brain damage in your opponent. Men are naturally violent and aggressive, and they will always fight one another when the opportunity arises. But women are in a way more highly evolved beings: they solve their problems in more thoughtful ways. And to see women becoming (judging by what we've seen at these games) as violent and committed to inflicting harm as men, is to this observer at least, a bit disturbing.
HOT
First and foremost: all our gold medal winners. My God, they're going to be handing out a few gongs in the New Year's honours list, OBEs at least, and some are surely up for knighthoods and dameships (if that is a word)
As for Lord Coe, well, they haven't made a commoner an earl since Harold McMillan was made the Earl of Stockton in 1992. I'd have said "Gamesmaster General" could be next in line. As for Boris, he's done so well they may sack David and install him as PM right now, if vox pop had anything to do with it (which fortunately for the now rather overweight leader, it isn't)
Michael Johnson. A legendary figure who is also intelligent, articulate and extremely well informed. Like.
Brendan Foster. One of our national treasures, even though he never won a gold medal, he's still an iconic (sorry) figure in British athletics, and is a first rate broadcaster too. He knows whereof he speaks, and tells us beautifully and with restrained, but infectious enthusiasm. Like a lot.
BMX biking. BMX to conventional cycling is a bit like snowboarding to alpine skiing. The competitors are young, cool and talented, just like the snowboarders, and the sport adds a new and highly enjoyable dimension to the Games as a whole. Great stuff.
10K swimming. Absorbing television, one wonders why this hasn't been part of the programme before. And it offers another example of the increasing emancipation of women in sport: they make the girls swim as far as the boys. And they're not far behind either...
NOT HOT
John Inverdale. He's like that guy down the pub who's in the quiz team and is unbearably smug because of it. He's a rubbish interviewer and generally a poor journalist. Dislike.
Denise Lewis. Here at least we have a genuine athlete who has competed and prevailed at the highest level, but as we have seen with Sally Gunnell, and even more disastrously, Kathy Freeman (remember when she was taken on by the BBC during the Sydney games, only for it to emerge that she was so thick they had to get rid of her within a couple of days?), a good athlete does not necessarily make a good broadcaster. She can drone on and on with an endless series of self evident facts which seems acceptable to the Beeb, but hello? She's broing, she's dull and they should get rid of her now.
Colin Jackson. The great Welsh nearly-man is OK in small doses, but all this exposure has gone to his head a bit and next to MJ, again and again he is to be found wanting.
TaeKwondo and judo. Two martial arts that have no place in the modern games. TKD is supposed to involve blows with the hands as well as the feet- OK, have you ever seen a single punch even launched, never mind land on target? It's just 2 opponents dancing around a ring trying and nearly always failing to kick each other in the head.
Judo is 2 opponents grabbing onto each other's lapels and then stumbling around seemingly for hours on end until one of them makes the other fall over. Spectator sports they ain't, and like it or not, that has to be a criterion for inclusion in a modern games.
Synchronised diving. Don't get me started.
Rhythmic gymnastics. It isn't gymnastics, it isn't circus; what the hell is it?
Football, tennis and (at Rio, allegedly) golf. Sports that have huge, global showcases, the World Cup, the grand slams, the majors, don't need to be represented. Leave em out, I say. If not, we could be seeing moto-cross, eating contests and even (and this is not so far-fetched, considering the enormous clout of the big players in that sport), Formula One. God help us...
Women's boxing: You've come a long way baby, but was it a road you really wanted to go down? I accept that boxers are bona fide athletes, but as a doctor I have always had a problem with a sport where rule 1 is: induce brain damage in your opponent. Men are naturally violent and aggressive, and they will always fight one another when the opportunity arises. But women are in a way more highly evolved beings: they solve their problems in more thoughtful ways. And to see women becoming (judging by what we've seen at these games) as violent and committed to inflicting harm as men, is to this observer at least, a bit disturbing.
Thursday, 9 August 2012
Olymic report
MEN OF GOLD
Chris Hoy's magnificent achievements at this year's Games, added to his previous stellar performance in Beijing have rekindled the debate about who is our greatest Olympian. His number tally now exceeding that of Steve Redgrave, some have suggested the accolade is now his. In a wonderful and moving piece of humility unusual in leading competitors, Chris scotched the debate by insisting that Steve is the greater, having achieved his golds in 5 successive Olympics.
The other favourite pub conversation current today is over who is the world's greatest Olympian. Here the swimmers Mark Spitz and Ian Thorpe come to mind, though their achievements have now been eclipsed by the astounding success of Michael Phelps, who in medal tally alone has to be a strong contender for "The Greatest". But should this be the only criterion? What of Jesse Owens, who won 4 gold medals in a variety of disciplines in 1936, despite the hostile atmosphere he had to endure in Hitler's racist state, to say nothing of the undercurrent of discrimination with which he had to deal in his own country? Or a certain Italian fencer by the name of Eduardo Mangiarotti? He won gold medals in the sabre in SIX successive games, from 1936 to 1960.
According to legend, by 1960 he was considered too old for selection by the Italian team bosses, who left him out of their squad. Mangiarotti then took it upon himself to challenge every team member to a "dual", and beat them all, one by one. The bosses then had no alternative but to include him- a wise move as he won his 6th gold at the Rome Games. He only died recently, aged 93. How's that for a great Olympian?
Finally, what of great women? They have only achieved something approaching equal status since the 1980s, so the list has to be smaller. But one thinks of Fanny Blankers Coen, who (virtually) reproduced Owens achievement by winning 4 golds in the LOndon "austerity games" of 1948, or Mary Peters, who beat the world's best in the pentahlon in 1972 with none of the high-tech, cash driven backup modern athletes enjoy (and which many of her contemporaries enjoyed at the time). But we should reserve some of our repsect for the Saudi athlete, Sarah Attar, who secured her place in history by being SA's first female competitor, whose sheer determination overcame the inbuilt prejudice that permeates every aspect of life in that medieval society.
Chris Hoy's magnificent achievements at this year's Games, added to his previous stellar performance in Beijing have rekindled the debate about who is our greatest Olympian. His number tally now exceeding that of Steve Redgrave, some have suggested the accolade is now his. In a wonderful and moving piece of humility unusual in leading competitors, Chris scotched the debate by insisting that Steve is the greater, having achieved his golds in 5 successive Olympics.
The other favourite pub conversation current today is over who is the world's greatest Olympian. Here the swimmers Mark Spitz and Ian Thorpe come to mind, though their achievements have now been eclipsed by the astounding success of Michael Phelps, who in medal tally alone has to be a strong contender for "The Greatest". But should this be the only criterion? What of Jesse Owens, who won 4 gold medals in a variety of disciplines in 1936, despite the hostile atmosphere he had to endure in Hitler's racist state, to say nothing of the undercurrent of discrimination with which he had to deal in his own country? Or a certain Italian fencer by the name of Eduardo Mangiarotti? He won gold medals in the sabre in SIX successive games, from 1936 to 1960.
According to legend, by 1960 he was considered too old for selection by the Italian team bosses, who left him out of their squad. Mangiarotti then took it upon himself to challenge every team member to a "dual", and beat them all, one by one. The bosses then had no alternative but to include him- a wise move as he won his 6th gold at the Rome Games. He only died recently, aged 93. How's that for a great Olympian?
Finally, what of great women? They have only achieved something approaching equal status since the 1980s, so the list has to be smaller. But one thinks of Fanny Blankers Coen, who (virtually) reproduced Owens achievement by winning 4 golds in the LOndon "austerity games" of 1948, or Mary Peters, who beat the world's best in the pentahlon in 1972 with none of the high-tech, cash driven backup modern athletes enjoy (and which many of her contemporaries enjoyed at the time). But we should reserve some of our repsect for the Saudi athlete, Sarah Attar, who secured her place in history by being SA's first female competitor, whose sheer determination overcame the inbuilt prejudice that permeates every aspect of life in that medieval society.
Tuesday, 7 August 2012
Olympic Report
HUBRIS (ENGLISH TRANSLATION: PHILLIPS ODOWU)
When the entire Team GB athletics team went to the Algarve just before the start of the Games, he of the bright hair did not accompany them; neither did he have the courtesy to inform the chef d'equipe of his whereabouts. He was officially a missing person until he showed up for the triple jump qualifying round this morning. All this astonishingly arrogant behaviour might have been forgiven if he had performed at the level we might have expected. Instead he didn't even qualify for the final. And all this despite the fact he has been supported by the BOA to the tune of over £1million.
What a tosser! was my first thought, and probably my last on that subject. Never again should he be allowed to compete for his country. Last week we saw one of our judo competitors excoriating himself in public for letting everyone down when he failed to win a medal. "I've let my coach down, I've let my family down, I've let my girlfriend down!", he gushed, in an orgy of self recrimination that was quite touching. Will we see anything like that from Odowu? Will we fuck. He'll probably blame everyone else for his failure, say he's misunderstood, etc etc. Well, I for one have no wish to understand him. Rather, I just wish he would go away and never, ever, come back.
When the entire Team GB athletics team went to the Algarve just before the start of the Games, he of the bright hair did not accompany them; neither did he have the courtesy to inform the chef d'equipe of his whereabouts. He was officially a missing person until he showed up for the triple jump qualifying round this morning. All this astonishingly arrogant behaviour might have been forgiven if he had performed at the level we might have expected. Instead he didn't even qualify for the final. And all this despite the fact he has been supported by the BOA to the tune of over £1million.
What a tosser! was my first thought, and probably my last on that subject. Never again should he be allowed to compete for his country. Last week we saw one of our judo competitors excoriating himself in public for letting everyone down when he failed to win a medal. "I've let my coach down, I've let my family down, I've let my girlfriend down!", he gushed, in an orgy of self recrimination that was quite touching. Will we see anything like that from Odowu? Will we fuck. He'll probably blame everyone else for his failure, say he's misunderstood, etc etc. Well, I for one have no wish to understand him. Rather, I just wish he would go away and never, ever, come back.
Sunday, 5 August 2012
Olympic Report
WE FOUGHT THE WORLD AND - WE WON!
No one alive has ever seen the like of what we witnessed yesterday. 6 gold medals in one day; more importantly, 3 in the cauldron of the Olympic stadium in real, solid, unimpeachable events. I said in my previous report that we would have perhaps 1 priceless moment to savour from the second, crucial week of athletics. Instead we got a whole evening of priceless jewels: Jess (who should be made a baroness immediately), Rutherford, who stole the gold in the long jump almost without realising the enormity of what he had done, and Mo, peace be upon him, who knew exactly what he was doing when he outfoxed all the great men of the African highlands and ran one of the cleverest, bravest races I have ever seen. And to think both I and my wife had written him off as a no-hoper! Boy, how wrong can you be?
In the cycling, in the rowing we have been strong in the past and we have been no less strong this week: perhaps we expected this to happen, but it's the unexpected that gives the best copy and the greatest memories.
Once again, I feel a tiny bit proud to be a Brit again, to have been alive and bearing witness when these great events occurred.
To summarise, talk about home advantage!
No one alive has ever seen the like of what we witnessed yesterday. 6 gold medals in one day; more importantly, 3 in the cauldron of the Olympic stadium in real, solid, unimpeachable events. I said in my previous report that we would have perhaps 1 priceless moment to savour from the second, crucial week of athletics. Instead we got a whole evening of priceless jewels: Jess (who should be made a baroness immediately), Rutherford, who stole the gold in the long jump almost without realising the enormity of what he had done, and Mo, peace be upon him, who knew exactly what he was doing when he outfoxed all the great men of the African highlands and ran one of the cleverest, bravest races I have ever seen. And to think both I and my wife had written him off as a no-hoper! Boy, how wrong can you be?
In the cycling, in the rowing we have been strong in the past and we have been no less strong this week: perhaps we expected this to happen, but it's the unexpected that gives the best copy and the greatest memories.
Once again, I feel a tiny bit proud to be a Brit again, to have been alive and bearing witness when these great events occurred.
To summarise, talk about home advantage!
Wednesday, 1 August 2012
July book and film review
BOOKS
ALL THE PRETTY HORSES, by Cormac McCarthy. Frustrated by his life at home, a young Texas man and his friend head south to Mexico to follow their destinies. Along the way, they meet another lad, whose only skill appears to be shooting people... A dark, elegiac book of great beauty. McCarthy's style is deceptively simple, drawing one into his world of men, horses and death in early 20th century Mexico. Memorable.
PLAIN TALES FROM THE HILLS, by Rudyard Kipling. A series of short stories describing life under the British Raj of the late 19th century. Kipling was a young man when he wrote these stories, and the enthusiasm of youth, with all its overconfidence and brashness, permeates on every page. His world view would not be considered politically correct today; indeed, his portrayal of the natives is often patronising, though always humane and compassionate. But it is also a work of great skill and illustrates what Kipling was already becoming: the consummate story teller. Try a few.
FILMS
VIVA RIVA (2010) D- Dio Munga. In a lawless Democratic Republic of Congo, petrol is as valuable as gold, so our hero steals a tanker-load from his gangland boss and is ready to make his fortune. But his boss is none too pleased, and several other hoodlums are equally anxious to take his booty from him. Neat little effort, evoking the exciting, dangerous world of the Kinshasa underground with frightening authenticity. Excellent offering, with good direction and acting throughout.
THE GREEN LANTERN (2011) D- Martin Campbell (2011) A youthful test pilot somehow finds himself recruited into an inter-galactic league committed to protecting the Universe from the forces of evil that lurk behind every asteroid. I'm sure this works quite well as a comic strip, but as a big budget movie, despite its impressive special effects, it's frankly ludicrous. It's impossible to take it seriously (and I think you're supposed to); eventually I couldn't be fagged to see it through to its end. Take my advice, and don't even try...
COLORS (1988) D- Dennis Hopper. A rookie cop (Sean Penn) and his grizzled partner (Robert Duvall) are tasked with tackling the gang problem in south central Los Angeles. With levels of violence uncommon for its day (though pretty standard today) the film has a raw, genuine feel which lingers in the memory, reinforced by the strength of the two leads. Watchable, if a bit heavy.
AU HASARD BALTHASAR (1966) D-Robert Bresson. The life and times of the denizens of a rural French village, seen from the perspective of Balthasar, a long suffering, but infinitely wise donkey. A subtle, moving tale of the best and worst of human folk, told in Bresson's languid, lyrical and ultimately unique style. Bresson never rushes anything, and you must adapt to his pace if you are to savour fully his great skill as a director. One of the master's best.
THE CAPTAIN'S PARADISE (1953) Sea captain Alec Guinness has found the secret of happiness: a wife in two different ports. One is a homegirl, the other a good time specialist, thereby representing the ideal woman, but in two manifestations. All is indeed paradise, until the two find out about each other... Interesting idea, trouble is it fails to convince, even with the great Guinness in the lead, who looks ill at ease in every scene he appears in. Extremely disappointing and irritating. Don't bother.
COWBOYS AND ALIENS (2011) D- John Favreau. In the Wild West, an outlaw finds himself fighting, not the law or the Indians, but aliens intent on extracting all the gold the world has, even if they have to destroy Earth to do so. A kind of Butch Cassidy meets War of the Worlds, the plot is a bit hard to swallow, but in the event, and to my surprise, Daniel Craig and his cronies carry this off rather well. Crossover films like this can be dangerous (note the complete collapse at the box office of the recent Disney blockbuster "John Carter" which linked the American civil war with the Martians), but in the end I did sort of enjoy this one. Doesn't quite match Craig's masterful performance as Bond in "The Queen goes to the Olympics" though. Now that was truly priceless...
CHAMPION (1949) D- Mark Robson. Kirk Douglas plays an up and coming boxer who doesn't realise how talented he is until an unscrupulous agent discovers him and pushes him forward to become a genuine contender. But there are casualties along the way... Powerful and gripping account of the fight game, with Douglas superb as the ambitious pugilist. Beautifully shot in stark monochrome, the way film noir should be.
DRAGONS FOREVER (1988) D- Sammo Hung. Some say this was the greatest of the Hong Kong based kung fu movies, with its 3 greatest exponents in action: Sammo Hung (who also directed), Biao Yueng and the incomparable Jackie Chan kick and punch their way through this madcap romp through pre-handover HK in a film whose plot barely matters. The fight's the thing, and these 3 (all trained at the Shanghai ballet school) make it look as much like ultra violent ballet as anything. If you like martial arts movies, this is perhaps the best ever made.
DEPARTURES (2008) D- Yojiro Takata. A young cellist, finding himself out of work when his orchestra goes bust, replies to a newspaper ad headed "departures". He thinks it's a travel agent, but the departures referred to are from this world to the next. Horrified at first, our hero finds himself warming to the rituals of preparing the departed for their final journey, despite the disapproval of his family and friends. Tender, moving, delightfully made movie, which offers great insight into the Japanese way of death. See it.
ALL THE PRETTY HORSES, by Cormac McCarthy. Frustrated by his life at home, a young Texas man and his friend head south to Mexico to follow their destinies. Along the way, they meet another lad, whose only skill appears to be shooting people... A dark, elegiac book of great beauty. McCarthy's style is deceptively simple, drawing one into his world of men, horses and death in early 20th century Mexico. Memorable.
PLAIN TALES FROM THE HILLS, by Rudyard Kipling. A series of short stories describing life under the British Raj of the late 19th century. Kipling was a young man when he wrote these stories, and the enthusiasm of youth, with all its overconfidence and brashness, permeates on every page. His world view would not be considered politically correct today; indeed, his portrayal of the natives is often patronising, though always humane and compassionate. But it is also a work of great skill and illustrates what Kipling was already becoming: the consummate story teller. Try a few.
FILMS
VIVA RIVA (2010) D- Dio Munga. In a lawless Democratic Republic of Congo, petrol is as valuable as gold, so our hero steals a tanker-load from his gangland boss and is ready to make his fortune. But his boss is none too pleased, and several other hoodlums are equally anxious to take his booty from him. Neat little effort, evoking the exciting, dangerous world of the Kinshasa underground with frightening authenticity. Excellent offering, with good direction and acting throughout.
THE GREEN LANTERN (2011) D- Martin Campbell (2011) A youthful test pilot somehow finds himself recruited into an inter-galactic league committed to protecting the Universe from the forces of evil that lurk behind every asteroid. I'm sure this works quite well as a comic strip, but as a big budget movie, despite its impressive special effects, it's frankly ludicrous. It's impossible to take it seriously (and I think you're supposed to); eventually I couldn't be fagged to see it through to its end. Take my advice, and don't even try...
COLORS (1988) D- Dennis Hopper. A rookie cop (Sean Penn) and his grizzled partner (Robert Duvall) are tasked with tackling the gang problem in south central Los Angeles. With levels of violence uncommon for its day (though pretty standard today) the film has a raw, genuine feel which lingers in the memory, reinforced by the strength of the two leads. Watchable, if a bit heavy.
AU HASARD BALTHASAR (1966) D-Robert Bresson. The life and times of the denizens of a rural French village, seen from the perspective of Balthasar, a long suffering, but infinitely wise donkey. A subtle, moving tale of the best and worst of human folk, told in Bresson's languid, lyrical and ultimately unique style. Bresson never rushes anything, and you must adapt to his pace if you are to savour fully his great skill as a director. One of the master's best.
THE CAPTAIN'S PARADISE (1953) Sea captain Alec Guinness has found the secret of happiness: a wife in two different ports. One is a homegirl, the other a good time specialist, thereby representing the ideal woman, but in two manifestations. All is indeed paradise, until the two find out about each other... Interesting idea, trouble is it fails to convince, even with the great Guinness in the lead, who looks ill at ease in every scene he appears in. Extremely disappointing and irritating. Don't bother.
COWBOYS AND ALIENS (2011) D- John Favreau. In the Wild West, an outlaw finds himself fighting, not the law or the Indians, but aliens intent on extracting all the gold the world has, even if they have to destroy Earth to do so. A kind of Butch Cassidy meets War of the Worlds, the plot is a bit hard to swallow, but in the event, and to my surprise, Daniel Craig and his cronies carry this off rather well. Crossover films like this can be dangerous (note the complete collapse at the box office of the recent Disney blockbuster "John Carter" which linked the American civil war with the Martians), but in the end I did sort of enjoy this one. Doesn't quite match Craig's masterful performance as Bond in "The Queen goes to the Olympics" though. Now that was truly priceless...
CHAMPION (1949) D- Mark Robson. Kirk Douglas plays an up and coming boxer who doesn't realise how talented he is until an unscrupulous agent discovers him and pushes him forward to become a genuine contender. But there are casualties along the way... Powerful and gripping account of the fight game, with Douglas superb as the ambitious pugilist. Beautifully shot in stark monochrome, the way film noir should be.
DRAGONS FOREVER (1988) D- Sammo Hung. Some say this was the greatest of the Hong Kong based kung fu movies, with its 3 greatest exponents in action: Sammo Hung (who also directed), Biao Yueng and the incomparable Jackie Chan kick and punch their way through this madcap romp through pre-handover HK in a film whose plot barely matters. The fight's the thing, and these 3 (all trained at the Shanghai ballet school) make it look as much like ultra violent ballet as anything. If you like martial arts movies, this is perhaps the best ever made.
DEPARTURES (2008) D- Yojiro Takata. A young cellist, finding himself out of work when his orchestra goes bust, replies to a newspaper ad headed "departures". He thinks it's a travel agent, but the departures referred to are from this world to the next. Horrified at first, our hero finds himself warming to the rituals of preparing the departed for their final journey, despite the disapproval of his family and friends. Tender, moving, delightfully made movie, which offers great insight into the Japanese way of death. See it.
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