History, they say, is written by the winning side. And in the Islamic world at the moment, the winning side appears to be the Wahabi strain. We all doubtless remember the disgraceful act in the 1990s when the Taliban dynamited the famous reclining Buddhas in the Bamyan province of Afghanistan. Now we hear the Wahabiites are now destroying ancient shrines to Mohamed, peace be on him, in Saudi Arabia itself. Anxious, on the face of it, to avoid the sin of idolatry, some observers have interpreted these latest rounds of historical vandalism in an even darker way.
It seems the Wahabis (they're the ones who'd rather die, or at least murder) before they see their women get any education) really want to distance the faithful from the teachings of the prophet himself, as the peaceful, tolerant teachings he gave are inimical to the modern, hate filled rhetoric they peddle
This is like Christian priests advising their parishioners to forget the Sermon on the Mount or even that Christ died for our sins.
My view: these men are as evil as the Nazis or the Japanese militarists who started WW2. And like them, if the world is to move forward, they must be crushed. I fear there is no other option. They'd crush us if they got the chance.
Saturday, 27 October 2012
Tuesday, 23 October 2012
The evil blonde wiith the cold dead eyes
Did you watch Panorama last night? Phew, what a stink is coming from the corridors of the BBC right now! Seems like there are 2 stock answers from people who were around at the time: either "I didn't know", or "I did know, but no one would have believed me if I'd told them".The former group included Derek Chinnery, who even then had a powerful position as head of Radio 1. Then there was Paul Gambaccini, who knew but felt there was no point taking it further, what with the blond one's clout at the time.
GK Chesterton once said "The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there".Don't they just. So differently, in fact, that Blondy's perversions were laughed off as what we might today call "laddishness". The BBC was very good for him, and he was very good for them. The prestige of both was greatly enhanced by their relationship; so much so that the Beeb dared not kill their golden goose, whatever terrible stories of abuse may have emerged, albeit only on the rumour mill.
I know times were different back then. I was there. But as I recall, what he was doing was considered a serious crime even in the medieval days of the 70s, and paedophiles were as hated then as they are now. So don't give me any guff about it being "a different era". Very senior people could have given him a warning: the next time we hear the slightest bad thing about you, you're out of here, and then followed through, whatever the embarrassment to themselves. They would have won the moral high ground, and avoided the shitstorm they are now doing their best to shelter from.
Personally I never bought into the Savile thing. He never seemed really to buy into the pop music culture, and I thought "Jim'll Fix it" positively creepy. Now we know why he was so keen on working with young people. I tell you, it makes you want to heave...
GK Chesterton once said "The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there".Don't they just. So differently, in fact, that Blondy's perversions were laughed off as what we might today call "laddishness". The BBC was very good for him, and he was very good for them. The prestige of both was greatly enhanced by their relationship; so much so that the Beeb dared not kill their golden goose, whatever terrible stories of abuse may have emerged, albeit only on the rumour mill.
I know times were different back then. I was there. But as I recall, what he was doing was considered a serious crime even in the medieval days of the 70s, and paedophiles were as hated then as they are now. So don't give me any guff about it being "a different era". Very senior people could have given him a warning: the next time we hear the slightest bad thing about you, you're out of here, and then followed through, whatever the embarrassment to themselves. They would have won the moral high ground, and avoided the shitstorm they are now doing their best to shelter from.
Personally I never bought into the Savile thing. He never seemed really to buy into the pop music culture, and I thought "Jim'll Fix it" positively creepy. Now we know why he was so keen on working with young people. I tell you, it makes you want to heave...
Sunday, 21 October 2012
Reunion blues
Last night's school reunion was a game of two halves. My juggling show was a fiasco, as the venue had such a low ceiling I was unable to perform many of the tricks which I had been preparing for the night. The end result I prefer not to describe in any detail.
On the upside, I had an amazing conversation with someone who bullied me at school. Some years ago I objected to the organiser that he had circulated my home address and telephone number amongst all the other attendees, and that at least one of those had bullied me in my youth. The organiser then passed on this information to the bully himself. He was not present at the previous reunion 2 years ago, but he was there last night and I took my courage in both hands and approached him. I'm glad I did. It emerged that he was mortified at my accusations, having considered himself my friend, and it is fair to say that the relationship between bully and bullied is often a complex one. When I looked into his face last night, I could see nothing but warmth and almost love in his eyes, and something changed in me. I told him that although some whatever had gone down between us long ago, my predominant feeling towards him now was one of affection, and we parted as the firmest of friends. You're OK, Rory!
Just one though: I won't be going to any more reunions...
On the upside, I had an amazing conversation with someone who bullied me at school. Some years ago I objected to the organiser that he had circulated my home address and telephone number amongst all the other attendees, and that at least one of those had bullied me in my youth. The organiser then passed on this information to the bully himself. He was not present at the previous reunion 2 years ago, but he was there last night and I took my courage in both hands and approached him. I'm glad I did. It emerged that he was mortified at my accusations, having considered himself my friend, and it is fair to say that the relationship between bully and bullied is often a complex one. When I looked into his face last night, I could see nothing but warmth and almost love in his eyes, and something changed in me. I told him that although some whatever had gone down between us long ago, my predominant feeling towards him now was one of affection, and we parted as the firmest of friends. You're OK, Rory!
Just one though: I won't be going to any more reunions...
Wednesday, 17 October 2012
Punching above our weight
If you look a map of the world, and see see our tiny island floating in the north Atlantic Ocean just off the coast of western Europe, it is hard to understand why we enjoy such a high status in the world as a whole. We are one of the richest countries on the planet, and one of the most influential. We have a permanent seat on the UN Security Council, we have a lot of clout in the middle east, our sovereign is head of state of a number of other powerful, independent countries and our multinational companies have a truly global reach.
In particular, we are a member of that small, select group of countries with nuclear weapons, a group which by the way, does not wish to see any other countries achieve the same status. But I find myself asking, what's it all about? The answer is, of course, history. We still dine out on the fabulous riches amassed (stolen is another word for it) when the British Empire was the biggest the world has ever seen, and the hangover from that is that we still like to think of ourselves as a major player on the world stage.
I visited Denmark and Sweden this summer, two advanced, highly civilised cultures which do not have nuclear weapons and have no prospect of a seat on the Security Council. They do have very sophisticated welfare schemes and embrace the idea of working together as communities and with other nations for their mutual benefit. But for some reason we still aspire to be more than that, hence our desire to retain WMDs in huge quantities, not to act as a deterrent against a threat that no longer exists (if it ever did), but to assert our status as a "world power", whatever that is. Yet Denmark and Sweden seem to manage perfectly well without this exalted status, as do countless other countries around the globe. Meanwhile our funds bleed away financing the Trident submarine, which the PM only today has stated will continue into the foreseeable future. Why for God's sake, when there are so many other more useful things we could be spending our money on?
In particular, we are a member of that small, select group of countries with nuclear weapons, a group which by the way, does not wish to see any other countries achieve the same status. But I find myself asking, what's it all about? The answer is, of course, history. We still dine out on the fabulous riches amassed (stolen is another word for it) when the British Empire was the biggest the world has ever seen, and the hangover from that is that we still like to think of ourselves as a major player on the world stage.
I visited Denmark and Sweden this summer, two advanced, highly civilised cultures which do not have nuclear weapons and have no prospect of a seat on the Security Council. They do have very sophisticated welfare schemes and embrace the idea of working together as communities and with other nations for their mutual benefit. But for some reason we still aspire to be more than that, hence our desire to retain WMDs in huge quantities, not to act as a deterrent against a threat that no longer exists (if it ever did), but to assert our status as a "world power", whatever that is. Yet Denmark and Sweden seem to manage perfectly well without this exalted status, as do countless other countries around the globe. Meanwhile our funds bleed away financing the Trident submarine, which the PM only today has stated will continue into the foreseeable future. Why for God's sake, when there are so many other more useful things we could be spending our money on?
Sunday, 14 October 2012
Pelagius wins Nobel Prize!
That's right. So did you, if you're one of the 350 million nationals of the 27 states that make up the European Union.
Now I'm generally a fan of Alfred Nobel's great institution. His intention was to divert the attention of the world away from the grim reality of how he and his family were able to become fabulously wealthy, and in that he was largely successful. People today think of the prize first, and many I suspect know little of the "dark side" of the Nobel legacy. As a final gesture of caution, Nobel decreed that the Peace Prize should be decided and awarded in a country other than the Sweden where his massive fortune had been amassed.
The Peace Prize has been accused of political bias over the years, and not without reason. In 2009 the award went to Barack Obama who, only months into his presidency, had not really had time to contribute anything to world peace. And in 1973 they awarded the prize to Henry Kissinger, a supreme irony considering that on his own admission, he always favoured a military option when he thought it would work quickly, and only took on the role of being America's mouthpiece at the Paris Peace Talks when he knew America was losing the war in Vietnam
This latest award is apparently in tribute to the fact that Europe has avoided war (if you leave out Yugoslavia) for a longer period than it has seen since the Norman conquests, and that the formation of the EU was partly responsible. There is something in this claim, but as far as the UK is concerned, plenty of people would dearly like the whole thing to be torn down. In fact the EU and our membership of it is one of those rare cases where people from the far right and the far left come together as one, though for very different reasons. The right sees it as a demon intent on sucking the life-blood of individual freedom out of us, whereas the left sees it as a despicable capitalist's club, enabling the supersate to dominate the lives of its subjects.
But when you visit Europe, somehow the objections seem to melt away. You see the way countries co-operate with one another as a matter of common sense and mutual self interest. And then you wonder: what the hell is wrong with us that we don't want to be part of this, and want to make it work?
Now I'm generally a fan of Alfred Nobel's great institution. His intention was to divert the attention of the world away from the grim reality of how he and his family were able to become fabulously wealthy, and in that he was largely successful. People today think of the prize first, and many I suspect know little of the "dark side" of the Nobel legacy. As a final gesture of caution, Nobel decreed that the Peace Prize should be decided and awarded in a country other than the Sweden where his massive fortune had been amassed.
The Peace Prize has been accused of political bias over the years, and not without reason. In 2009 the award went to Barack Obama who, only months into his presidency, had not really had time to contribute anything to world peace. And in 1973 they awarded the prize to Henry Kissinger, a supreme irony considering that on his own admission, he always favoured a military option when he thought it would work quickly, and only took on the role of being America's mouthpiece at the Paris Peace Talks when he knew America was losing the war in Vietnam
This latest award is apparently in tribute to the fact that Europe has avoided war (if you leave out Yugoslavia) for a longer period than it has seen since the Norman conquests, and that the formation of the EU was partly responsible. There is something in this claim, but as far as the UK is concerned, plenty of people would dearly like the whole thing to be torn down. In fact the EU and our membership of it is one of those rare cases where people from the far right and the far left come together as one, though for very different reasons. The right sees it as a demon intent on sucking the life-blood of individual freedom out of us, whereas the left sees it as a despicable capitalist's club, enabling the supersate to dominate the lives of its subjects.
But when you visit Europe, somehow the objections seem to melt away. You see the way countries co-operate with one another as a matter of common sense and mutual self interest. And then you wonder: what the hell is wrong with us that we don't want to be part of this, and want to make it work?
Saturday, 13 October 2012
Think we've just had a bad run of summers? Think again
As my "followers" will know, I have an interest in weather, and as a member of the Royal Meteorological Society I receive their monthly journal "Weather". An editorial in this month's edition made rather sober reading. I quote a small section from an article entitled "Arctic sea ice minimum":
"...NASA have reported that the Arctic has lost more ice this season than at any time since satellite records began in 1979. Experts have noticed a steady decline in Arctic ice over the last 30 years and that the rate of decline is accelerating... Increasing amounts of Arctic open water allow bigger waves to be generated and hence the production of larger and more frequent storms. The reduction will not only affect wildlife, but may also affect the jet stream, resulting in wetter and windier summers in the UK, a trend which is only likely to increase..."
I had a patient see me last week who, with 4 of his colleagues, was sent to Brussels (by air) for a 90 minute business meeting. I asked him if it couldn't have been done via video-conferencing, and he replied that his boss "liked the face to face touch". It is this sort of behaviour which is contributing directly to the grim scenario painted above. So next time you curse the lousy summers in Britain, and you buy into this sort of culture, remember: you're part of the problem.
"...NASA have reported that the Arctic has lost more ice this season than at any time since satellite records began in 1979. Experts have noticed a steady decline in Arctic ice over the last 30 years and that the rate of decline is accelerating... Increasing amounts of Arctic open water allow bigger waves to be generated and hence the production of larger and more frequent storms. The reduction will not only affect wildlife, but may also affect the jet stream, resulting in wetter and windier summers in the UK, a trend which is only likely to increase..."
I had a patient see me last week who, with 4 of his colleagues, was sent to Brussels (by air) for a 90 minute business meeting. I asked him if it couldn't have been done via video-conferencing, and he replied that his boss "liked the face to face touch". It is this sort of behaviour which is contributing directly to the grim scenario painted above. So next time you curse the lousy summers in Britain, and you buy into this sort of culture, remember: you're part of the problem.
Wednesday, 10 October 2012
Never mind money being the root of all evil: try religion
Yesterday an incredibly courageous 14 year old girl was shot twice in the head and neck for promoting education for Pakistani females. The Taliban were perfectly happy to confirm their complicity, even going as far as to say their imams had instructed them that it was OK to exterminate anyone promoting this sin against the teachings of Mohamed, peace be upon him. But Big M's teachings are open to many interpretations, and Muslims around the world rose as one to condemn this disgraceful act perpetrated by a bunch of murderous scum.
Religious intolerance is not confined to Islam, nor is it new. St Paul , that noted misogynist, made his feelings about women plain in several of his epistles, and there are still millions of Christians today who think women priests represent the personification of evil. In Nigeria Christian churches are being firebombed, while in America, their "freedom of speech" laws allow pastor Terry Jones to disseminate a film which insults every Muslim. And in Israel, the "Chosen People" seem to think it's OK to turn Palestine into a ghetto..
20 years ago a beaten and bloody Rodney King asked the World "Why can't we all just get along?" Well Rodney, I think you have at least part of your answer....
Religious intolerance is not confined to Islam, nor is it new. St Paul , that noted misogynist, made his feelings about women plain in several of his epistles, and there are still millions of Christians today who think women priests represent the personification of evil. In Nigeria Christian churches are being firebombed, while in America, their "freedom of speech" laws allow pastor Terry Jones to disseminate a film which insults every Muslim. And in Israel, the "Chosen People" seem to think it's OK to turn Palestine into a ghetto..
20 years ago a beaten and bloody Rodney King asked the World "Why can't we all just get along?" Well Rodney, I think you have at least part of your answer....
Sunday, 7 October 2012
The jungle encroaches
On Friday afternoon I was walking the half mile to my local body shop, where they were removing the large "W" that had been carved onto my car bonnet recently. The route took me along a narrow path. At the end of the path 2 cyclists approached, intent on barrelling past me. There was not room for them to do this without my pressing myself flat against one of the walls, so I actually stepped into the path of the leading cyclist and with a "Whoa!" stopped him by placing my hands on both his shoulders.
Perhaps predictably he exploded into what seemed almost murderous rage, screaming at me barely coherently.
"What the fuck are you playing at?" he demanded
I wasn't too keen to enter into an explanation, along the lines of his selfish behaviour endangering another citizen, so I said nothing.
"I ought to smash you right between the eyes!" he yelled, before leaving me to my own, rather unsettled devices. As an esprit d'esaclier I could have said:
"Actually, between the eyes would be fine; they're fucked anyway, but could you avoid the teeth? I've just spent a lot of money on those."
Probably wouldn't have helped much. Witty put-downs don't work with selfish monsters like this psychopath, whose world clearly left no room for the consideration of others.
Where I live in the inner city, the jungle is very close.
Perhaps predictably he exploded into what seemed almost murderous rage, screaming at me barely coherently.
"What the fuck are you playing at?" he demanded
I wasn't too keen to enter into an explanation, along the lines of his selfish behaviour endangering another citizen, so I said nothing.
"I ought to smash you right between the eyes!" he yelled, before leaving me to my own, rather unsettled devices. As an esprit d'esaclier I could have said:
"Actually, between the eyes would be fine; they're fucked anyway, but could you avoid the teeth? I've just spent a lot of money on those."
Probably wouldn't have helped much. Witty put-downs don't work with selfish monsters like this psychopath, whose world clearly left no room for the consideration of others.
Where I live in the inner city, the jungle is very close.
Tuesday, 2 October 2012
Stop press: Crown Jewels stolen
We only acquired Sky Sports recently, and this was our first chance to watch the Ryder Cup on television. What can I say? Only that it was one of the most remarkable sporting events I have ever witnessed.
When the two sides finished Day 2 with the Americans leading 10-6, anyone with any arithmetic knowledge could see that of the 12 remaining singles matches to be played on the Sunday, we would have to win 2 matches to their 1 for us to secure a victory, a tall order even for this supremely talented European side. But all hope was not lost. Saturday evening witnessed Ian Poulter holing the equivalent of five consecutive birdie putts to win his foursomes match, an incredible display of skill and fortitude that at least left us the ghost of a chance.
And as Sunday wore on, almost as if in some wish-fulfilment fantasy, more and more of the leader board began to go blue, indicating European victories. How could this be? Lee Westwood, whose putting skills often desert him on the big occasions, won. Sergio Garcia, another talented player but one also who can blow up towards the close, also won. Even the new kid, Martin Kaymer, refused to be over-awed by the hugeness of the day, sank a wonderful putt to claim his victory. And then finally, a resurgent Tiger Woods, who has astonishingly clawed his way back to number 2 in the world, failed to hole a five foot putt that would at least have given the US the consolation of a halved match. His opponent, the Italian Molinari, still had a four foot putt of his own to seal the win, but Woods, in a magnanimous gesture reminiscent of Jack Nicklaus's famous concession to allow Europe to halve the match nearly thirty years before, conceded the putt, giving outright victory to the European side.
In the event, it seems even the American's "thirteenth player", the highly partisan crowd (some of whom could be heard to shout things like "put it in the water!" as a European player teed off) were of no assistance.
All in all, an immensely satisfying piece of sporting television. But I couldn't help feeling a slight twinge of regret that the majority of people who might have wanted to watch it themselves were denied this honour because they had not, like us, paid the Murdoch shilling. Some years ago, a list of sporting "Crown Jewels" were laid down: the FA Cup final, Wimbledon, the Grand National and I think the Boat Race. These had to be shown on terrestrial television so as to be accessible to all. What a pity they didn't extend it to this great event.
When the two sides finished Day 2 with the Americans leading 10-6, anyone with any arithmetic knowledge could see that of the 12 remaining singles matches to be played on the Sunday, we would have to win 2 matches to their 1 for us to secure a victory, a tall order even for this supremely talented European side. But all hope was not lost. Saturday evening witnessed Ian Poulter holing the equivalent of five consecutive birdie putts to win his foursomes match, an incredible display of skill and fortitude that at least left us the ghost of a chance.
And as Sunday wore on, almost as if in some wish-fulfilment fantasy, more and more of the leader board began to go blue, indicating European victories. How could this be? Lee Westwood, whose putting skills often desert him on the big occasions, won. Sergio Garcia, another talented player but one also who can blow up towards the close, also won. Even the new kid, Martin Kaymer, refused to be over-awed by the hugeness of the day, sank a wonderful putt to claim his victory. And then finally, a resurgent Tiger Woods, who has astonishingly clawed his way back to number 2 in the world, failed to hole a five foot putt that would at least have given the US the consolation of a halved match. His opponent, the Italian Molinari, still had a four foot putt of his own to seal the win, but Woods, in a magnanimous gesture reminiscent of Jack Nicklaus's famous concession to allow Europe to halve the match nearly thirty years before, conceded the putt, giving outright victory to the European side.
In the event, it seems even the American's "thirteenth player", the highly partisan crowd (some of whom could be heard to shout things like "put it in the water!" as a European player teed off) were of no assistance.
All in all, an immensely satisfying piece of sporting television. But I couldn't help feeling a slight twinge of regret that the majority of people who might have wanted to watch it themselves were denied this honour because they had not, like us, paid the Murdoch shilling. Some years ago, a list of sporting "Crown Jewels" were laid down: the FA Cup final, Wimbledon, the Grand National and I think the Boat Race. These had to be shown on terrestrial television so as to be accessible to all. What a pity they didn't extend it to this great event.
September book and film review
BOOK
THE SECRET AGENT, by Joseph Conrad. In the dark, foggy streets of Edwardian London, anarchists plot a dramatic strike against the forces of reaction. But even the best-laid plans... Perhaps Conrad's greatest book, certainly his best shorter novel, containing within its pages some of the most perfectly realised characters in 20th century fiction. From the oily foreign dignitary importuning the outrage, to Stevie, the strange boy who would now be placed somewhere on the autistic spectrum, his his brooding uncle who hides a terrible secret behind the doors of his seedy bookshop, to the society princess who is entranced by the anarchist's revolutionary rhetoric, everything comes together in a climax which still shocks profoundly 100 years after it was written. A classic.
FILMS
COLOMBIANA (2011) D-Oliver Megaton (sic). A young girl witnesses her parent's murder at the hands of drug lords, and swears revenge. Along the way to achieving her goal, like the bad cops in Magnum Force, she wipes out all the other bad guys she can find. What did I just say? I said we were getting fed up with assassin movies, but here comes yet another. Give it a rest, Hollywood and find another theme, will you?
JOHNNY ENGLISH REBORN (2011) D- Oliver Parker. Johnny is brought out of forced retirement by MI7 to bring down an evil genius. Or something like that. The plot here is less important than Rowan Atkinson himself, who reprises his role, this time with a black sidekick and no Natalie Imbruglia (shame). Rosamund Pyke and Gillian Anderson support well, but there aren't as many belly laughs this time. Pity.
TO BE OR NOT TO BE (1942) D- Ernst Lubitsch. Just as the Wehrmacht is about to invade Poland in 1939, a theatre group, with the help of a British spy, escape the holocaust. Slight problem: he's fallen for the female lead, who happens to be married. An absolutely stunning movie at amny levels, full of laughs, thrills and not a little erotic undertow, this is one of the finest things to come out of Hollywood in the war years. Wow!
LOVE ME TONIGHT (1932) D- Reuben Mamoulian. A tailor, cheated out of his fees by a nobleman, goes to collect his debt and is mistaken for one himself. Hilarity ensues... Maurice Chevalier's finest moment, parodying himself as he always did, but bringing it off with superb elan. The movie was surprisingly advanced for its day, with many innovatory devices in cinematography and some truly outrageous dialogue, which proved too much for many censors in the US, who slashed some of the funniest lines from the script. Stupid, screwed-up yanks...
RIO (2011) D- Carlos Sandana. A rare blue parrot is abducted from the Amazon rain forest, rescued, then taken back to Brazil to mate with the only other member of its species. But rare parrots are money in the bank, and the baddies are out to get him back, dead or alive. A dazzling piece of animation (computer graphics are taken to a new level here), but, and this has to be crucial for a film based in the land of Samba, the music is rather pedestrian and dull. Even the dialogue lacks the sparkle we might have hoped for. Disappointing.
JANE EYRE (2011) D- Gary Fukanaga. A young orphan has troubled beginnings, but ends up marrying well. One of Britain's best loved stories has been filmed several times; notably with Orson Welles playing Mr Rochester, but this new version also has much to recommend it. The producers have resisted the temptation of vamping it up to a 21st century audience, and have allowed the story to develop in a way Charlotte herself might have approved.. The result is an absorbing piece of cinema story-telling, free of slickness and pretension.
VALENTINO (1977) D- Ken Russell. A two-bit dancer/gigolo is spotted plying his trade in a seedy New York nightclub. The rest, as they say, is history. And a very bad movie. Apparently even Ken didn't like the result, complaining publicly at the premier: "What idiot directed this?" What idiot indeed... Russell is one of those film makers who can't help making interesting films, even when they're awful, like this one. Here the film is (almost) saved by the dancing of Rudolph Nureyev, who plays the eponymous megastar, and whose every movement is a perfection of style and grace.
LILIES OF THE FIELD (1963) D- Ralph Nelson. A laid-back itinerant with building skills is persuaded by a group of nuns to build a church. His engaging personality eventually wins over all his detractors, which are not few, because he's black for starters.... A sweet, lyrical film; we'd say it had the "feelgood" factor today, with a strong performance from its lead, Sydney Poitier, who has never looked more gorgeous. Ralph Nelson went on to make much darker films, like Soldier Blue, but this is perhaps his best work.
THE SECRET AGENT, by Joseph Conrad. In the dark, foggy streets of Edwardian London, anarchists plot a dramatic strike against the forces of reaction. But even the best-laid plans... Perhaps Conrad's greatest book, certainly his best shorter novel, containing within its pages some of the most perfectly realised characters in 20th century fiction. From the oily foreign dignitary importuning the outrage, to Stevie, the strange boy who would now be placed somewhere on the autistic spectrum, his his brooding uncle who hides a terrible secret behind the doors of his seedy bookshop, to the society princess who is entranced by the anarchist's revolutionary rhetoric, everything comes together in a climax which still shocks profoundly 100 years after it was written. A classic.
FILMS
COLOMBIANA (2011) D-Oliver Megaton (sic). A young girl witnesses her parent's murder at the hands of drug lords, and swears revenge. Along the way to achieving her goal, like the bad cops in Magnum Force, she wipes out all the other bad guys she can find. What did I just say? I said we were getting fed up with assassin movies, but here comes yet another. Give it a rest, Hollywood and find another theme, will you?
JOHNNY ENGLISH REBORN (2011) D- Oliver Parker. Johnny is brought out of forced retirement by MI7 to bring down an evil genius. Or something like that. The plot here is less important than Rowan Atkinson himself, who reprises his role, this time with a black sidekick and no Natalie Imbruglia (shame). Rosamund Pyke and Gillian Anderson support well, but there aren't as many belly laughs this time. Pity.
TO BE OR NOT TO BE (1942) D- Ernst Lubitsch. Just as the Wehrmacht is about to invade Poland in 1939, a theatre group, with the help of a British spy, escape the holocaust. Slight problem: he's fallen for the female lead, who happens to be married. An absolutely stunning movie at amny levels, full of laughs, thrills and not a little erotic undertow, this is one of the finest things to come out of Hollywood in the war years. Wow!
LOVE ME TONIGHT (1932) D- Reuben Mamoulian. A tailor, cheated out of his fees by a nobleman, goes to collect his debt and is mistaken for one himself. Hilarity ensues... Maurice Chevalier's finest moment, parodying himself as he always did, but bringing it off with superb elan. The movie was surprisingly advanced for its day, with many innovatory devices in cinematography and some truly outrageous dialogue, which proved too much for many censors in the US, who slashed some of the funniest lines from the script. Stupid, screwed-up yanks...
RIO (2011) D- Carlos Sandana. A rare blue parrot is abducted from the Amazon rain forest, rescued, then taken back to Brazil to mate with the only other member of its species. But rare parrots are money in the bank, and the baddies are out to get him back, dead or alive. A dazzling piece of animation (computer graphics are taken to a new level here), but, and this has to be crucial for a film based in the land of Samba, the music is rather pedestrian and dull. Even the dialogue lacks the sparkle we might have hoped for. Disappointing.
JANE EYRE (2011) D- Gary Fukanaga. A young orphan has troubled beginnings, but ends up marrying well. One of Britain's best loved stories has been filmed several times; notably with Orson Welles playing Mr Rochester, but this new version also has much to recommend it. The producers have resisted the temptation of vamping it up to a 21st century audience, and have allowed the story to develop in a way Charlotte herself might have approved.. The result is an absorbing piece of cinema story-telling, free of slickness and pretension.
VALENTINO (1977) D- Ken Russell. A two-bit dancer/gigolo is spotted plying his trade in a seedy New York nightclub. The rest, as they say, is history. And a very bad movie. Apparently even Ken didn't like the result, complaining publicly at the premier: "What idiot directed this?" What idiot indeed... Russell is one of those film makers who can't help making interesting films, even when they're awful, like this one. Here the film is (almost) saved by the dancing of Rudolph Nureyev, who plays the eponymous megastar, and whose every movement is a perfection of style and grace.
LILIES OF THE FIELD (1963) D- Ralph Nelson. A laid-back itinerant with building skills is persuaded by a group of nuns to build a church. His engaging personality eventually wins over all his detractors, which are not few, because he's black for starters.... A sweet, lyrical film; we'd say it had the "feelgood" factor today, with a strong performance from its lead, Sydney Poitier, who has never looked more gorgeous. Ralph Nelson went on to make much darker films, like Soldier Blue, but this is perhaps his best work.
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