The Moors murderer Ian Brady was in court last week to request permission to be allowed to starve himself to death. The Court is currently mulling over his request, but in truth there is only one issue: is he mad or not?
The freedom to end one's life is, in its way, a fundamental human right. The only circumstances under which someone may be prevented by force from harming themselves is if they have been deemed a danger to themselves or others by reason of mental illness. Some 12 or so years ago Brady was diagnosed as having paranoid schizophrenia, and thereafter his attempts to starve himself have been thwarted by passing a naso-gastric tube and being tube-fed against his will. Last week Brady argued that the diagnosis is not safe and never has been; that it was made as a result of political machination. And even the authorities admit he has shown no signs of psychosis since then. Indeed, some say Brady simulated those symptoms at the time for reasons best known to himself. There is no doubt that in order to commit such terrible acts he must have a severe personality disorder, one in which there is no caring and compassion for the plight of other human beings, but that doesn't make him mad- just very, very bad.
Whatever the truth of that, the authorities (among which we must include the Home Secretary) must now decide whether such a diagnosis still applies. If not, he will be sent from the secure mental unit where he now resides to an ordinary prison, where, if he is as good as his word, he will deprive himself of food until he dies.
Ian Brady is a strong candidate for "most evil man in Britain", an accolade he justly earned in the mid 1960s following a series of horrific child murders. And although he has had some opposition in more recent times by, say, Ian Huntley, I think most people would agree he is still out on his own in terms of the hatred he has aroused in the hearts and minds of ordinary British people. His partner in crime, Myra Hindley, certainly stood alone during her lifetime as the worst woman who ever lived, partly because she abnegated all her "natural, maternal feelings" in order to perpetrate her terrible crimes. Now she is dead, but Brady is still here. I have heard it said that he should never be allowed to end his own life, because of the enormity of his offences, but I cannot agree. Regardless of how awful a criminal's history may be, the option to end one's life must be part of the human rights package every human is entitled to- even if they are incarcerated indefinitely. To deny such a right to anyone is itself a crime against humanity. Brady has chosen to end his life in one of the most unpleasant ways imaginable- if he wishes to do that, and no evidence can be produced to prove he is not responsible for his actions, then so be it.
Monday, 24 June 2013
Thursday, 20 June 2013
On conspiracies
Conspiracy theory is hot at the moment, though there's nothing new about it. The first one I heard about was in the 60s, following the Kennedy assassination. The "One Lone Nut" theory produced by the Warren Commission was roundly rejected by many, and its findings were widely labelled as a cover-up. Remember "the magic bullet", and "the 2nd shooter on the grassy knoll"? I have to say I was quite persuaded at the time, though more exhaustive research, including an incredibly detailed, computer assisted reconstruction showed there was nothing magic about the bullet' that struck both Kennedy and Governor Connolly. Kennedy was sitting in a higher seat than the governor who sat in front of him: the bullet behaved in a perfectly normal way.
Then, also relating to events I remember clearly from the 60s, is the perennially popular belief that the Moon landings were faked. Actually my favourite story about this is the one where Buzz Aldrin was confronted by one of these idiots, who actually went so far as to call him a coward to his face. Aldrin duly decked him, was sued by the punchee, who lost. Excellent. I came across one of these guys recently and put the following points to him: first, did he believe that the Russian Sputnik was real? Did Gagarin really go into space, or John Glenn? How about the Gemini programme, a preparation for Apollo, when the Americans sent two astronauts up at the same time? He nodded grudging ascent to all these.
OK, I continued, warming to my task, let's look at the Apollo programme itself. Manned flights in the Apollo programme began with Apollo 7, which was conducted in Earth orbit. Then Apollo 8, which orbited the Moon. Did that happen? Apollo 9, again conducted in Earth orbit but involved all the elements of the mission: command module, service module and the LEM (Lunar Excursion Module). Are you still with me? My friend was starting to look a little worried. The next mission, Apollo10, saw the astronauts again going to the moon, but separating the LEM, taking it down to within 50,000 feet of the Lunar surface before re-docking with the command module, this to prove all the technology worked before the great Apollo 11 mission, where they simply went one stage further and landed on the surface. I asked my friend: at which point did NASA start making things up? You see what I mean? It's all crap, and terribly hurtful crap for people like me, who followed all these missions with infinite excitement, knowing we were witnessing history being made. Why don't people want to believe this? And why do they think dark forces in the US state engineered the 9/11 attacks for their own purposes, or that an organisation called the Bilderberg Group is running the World behind our backs?
It is instructive at this point to refer to David Arronovitch's views, a man with (I believe) no particular reason to act as an agent of the State. His take is that people would sooner believe in global conspiracy theories than face the fact that the World is actually an immensely complex organism where unpredictable and terrible things sometimes happen, as well as incomparably wonderful things too (like the Moon landings). Did you see him with Alex Jones on the Daily Politics Show with Andrew Neill? (you can catch on You Tube, as I did) Mr Jones ranted about Bilderberg, saying they would cut off the heads of anyone who tried to reveal their existence. Arronovitch responded:
"I'm here to testify, Mr Jones, that your head is still on your shoulders."
OK, you want a real conspiracy? Try this one for size. In the autumn of 2001, in the weeks following 9/11, letters containing anthrax bacteria began arriving on the desks of certain highly placed individuals within the government. One was even addressed to George W, who announced publicly he'd been immunised and that one of his agents kept a stock of ciproxin on hand for use in emergencies. Then the precise DNA profile of the bacteria was extracted and guess what? The DNA profile proved conclusively that the bacteria could only have come from the government's own bacteriological research facility. That's right. Someone very high up in that organisation apparently took it upon himself to send these contaminated letters, in the hope that it would be ascribed to Al Qaida (which it was) and provide an impetus to invade Afghanistan (which it did). All this is a matter of well documented fact, though oddly you don't hear much about it these days. You like? A word of warning though: don't tell the conspiracy theorists- it'll only encourage them...
Then, also relating to events I remember clearly from the 60s, is the perennially popular belief that the Moon landings were faked. Actually my favourite story about this is the one where Buzz Aldrin was confronted by one of these idiots, who actually went so far as to call him a coward to his face. Aldrin duly decked him, was sued by the punchee, who lost. Excellent. I came across one of these guys recently and put the following points to him: first, did he believe that the Russian Sputnik was real? Did Gagarin really go into space, or John Glenn? How about the Gemini programme, a preparation for Apollo, when the Americans sent two astronauts up at the same time? He nodded grudging ascent to all these.
OK, I continued, warming to my task, let's look at the Apollo programme itself. Manned flights in the Apollo programme began with Apollo 7, which was conducted in Earth orbit. Then Apollo 8, which orbited the Moon. Did that happen? Apollo 9, again conducted in Earth orbit but involved all the elements of the mission: command module, service module and the LEM (Lunar Excursion Module). Are you still with me? My friend was starting to look a little worried. The next mission, Apollo10, saw the astronauts again going to the moon, but separating the LEM, taking it down to within 50,000 feet of the Lunar surface before re-docking with the command module, this to prove all the technology worked before the great Apollo 11 mission, where they simply went one stage further and landed on the surface. I asked my friend: at which point did NASA start making things up? You see what I mean? It's all crap, and terribly hurtful crap for people like me, who followed all these missions with infinite excitement, knowing we were witnessing history being made. Why don't people want to believe this? And why do they think dark forces in the US state engineered the 9/11 attacks for their own purposes, or that an organisation called the Bilderberg Group is running the World behind our backs?
It is instructive at this point to refer to David Arronovitch's views, a man with (I believe) no particular reason to act as an agent of the State. His take is that people would sooner believe in global conspiracy theories than face the fact that the World is actually an immensely complex organism where unpredictable and terrible things sometimes happen, as well as incomparably wonderful things too (like the Moon landings). Did you see him with Alex Jones on the Daily Politics Show with Andrew Neill? (you can catch on You Tube, as I did) Mr Jones ranted about Bilderberg, saying they would cut off the heads of anyone who tried to reveal their existence. Arronovitch responded:
"I'm here to testify, Mr Jones, that your head is still on your shoulders."
OK, you want a real conspiracy? Try this one for size. In the autumn of 2001, in the weeks following 9/11, letters containing anthrax bacteria began arriving on the desks of certain highly placed individuals within the government. One was even addressed to George W, who announced publicly he'd been immunised and that one of his agents kept a stock of ciproxin on hand for use in emergencies. Then the precise DNA profile of the bacteria was extracted and guess what? The DNA profile proved conclusively that the bacteria could only have come from the government's own bacteriological research facility. That's right. Someone very high up in that organisation apparently took it upon himself to send these contaminated letters, in the hope that it would be ascribed to Al Qaida (which it was) and provide an impetus to invade Afghanistan (which it did). All this is a matter of well documented fact, though oddly you don't hear much about it these days. You like? A word of warning though: don't tell the conspiracy theorists- it'll only encourage them...
Monday, 17 June 2013
Ireland dispatch
For the second time we have travelled to Dublin for the famous Bloomsday celebrations. In 2010 we were graced by glorious summer skies; this time we were less blessed: skies throughout were a patina of slate grey clouds, which sometimes issued showers of cooling rain. However the festivities proceeded as if immune from any incursion the weather might attempt, and the highlight, a witty and highly politically aware tour of Dublin's famous Glasnevin cemetery, went off with only a few unwelcome precipitating drops. As for us, we briefly became the focus of attention in our authentic Edwardian clothes, which charming custom has been part of Bloomsday since its inception in the post war years. Certainly my wife and her bookcrossing friends looked very fetching in their outfits, though personally I felt my middle-aged paunch was rather too prominent.
The stay opened with a 25 minute bus ride from the airport to the city centre. I sat next to a young woman who was so engrossed by her mobile phone she did not for a single moment glance away from her mobile phone. She spent about half the time playing a game my wife informs me is called "Candy Crush", and must be highly addictive, if her single minded obsession was anything to go by. Intermittently a ringing sound emanated from the phone; presumably alerting her to a facebook ping or maybe a tweet. Then she would break off from her game and type furiously for a few moments before returning to her game.
It strikes me that the penetration of the mobile phone has become world wide and all pervasive. During my 4 day sojourn I registered phones being used by children as young as five, every young person of course, but also the majority even of old gits such as myself (I should perhaps mention that I did carry such a device myself, though it remained turned off most of the time). I can't help wondering if this is really an optimal way for people to behave. By absorbing oneself in its dubious delights, one becomes oblivious to the surrounding environment: its sounds, smells, sights, even its potential threats. If you are a mobile fan you may disagree, but I have seen it for myself this weekend. I saw a young, attractive, but exceedingly glum looking couple share breakfast together in the hotel. In between bites of buttered toast and marmalade, they exchanged hardly a word or even a glance, both totally absorbed in their own devices- not talking into them you understand, that activity has become almost passé these days, but staring at their screens and jabbing at their keypads. At one point the man got up from the table, telling his wife "I've got to take this" and went outside. Only then, alone, she put down her phone and stared into the distance with a look of utter dejection on her face. She cheered up when he returned, however, and took up her phone again as before.
Maybe I'm an old fashioned fuddy-duddy who has failed to keep up with "techno-progress", but maybe I'm seeing this new institution for the pernicious development it truly is.
PS: sport supplement. Each evening when back in our hotel room we watched the "National", aka the US Open golf and were privileged to watch the highly emotional victory of Brit Justin Rose. But there were problems. Firstly, every single scene was accompanied by the drone of the Goodyear blimp floating overhead. Sometimes fainter, sometimes really intrusively loud, the noise never went away from opening tee shot to final putt. I know professional golfers are famed for their fierce concentration, but I can't believe they didn't find it intrusive. Then there was the crowd. Now I know sporting crowds are always loyal to their countrymen, but did they have to boo Luke Donald's every shot? What did he do? (they did the same to Sergio Garcia, but then we all know what he did)
Finally, if I were Il Supremo, Emperor of the world, I would ban the shouting of "In the hole!" after every shot played. It's boring and stupid. On one occasion someone shouted it just as Justin was beginning his downswing. It didn't spoil his shot, fortunately, and class act that he is (Colin Montgomery would have gone apoplectic) he simply remarked: "That was a bit early." Now that's a true champion.
The stay opened with a 25 minute bus ride from the airport to the city centre. I sat next to a young woman who was so engrossed by her mobile phone she did not for a single moment glance away from her mobile phone. She spent about half the time playing a game my wife informs me is called "Candy Crush", and must be highly addictive, if her single minded obsession was anything to go by. Intermittently a ringing sound emanated from the phone; presumably alerting her to a facebook ping or maybe a tweet. Then she would break off from her game and type furiously for a few moments before returning to her game.
It strikes me that the penetration of the mobile phone has become world wide and all pervasive. During my 4 day sojourn I registered phones being used by children as young as five, every young person of course, but also the majority even of old gits such as myself (I should perhaps mention that I did carry such a device myself, though it remained turned off most of the time). I can't help wondering if this is really an optimal way for people to behave. By absorbing oneself in its dubious delights, one becomes oblivious to the surrounding environment: its sounds, smells, sights, even its potential threats. If you are a mobile fan you may disagree, but I have seen it for myself this weekend. I saw a young, attractive, but exceedingly glum looking couple share breakfast together in the hotel. In between bites of buttered toast and marmalade, they exchanged hardly a word or even a glance, both totally absorbed in their own devices- not talking into them you understand, that activity has become almost passé these days, but staring at their screens and jabbing at their keypads. At one point the man got up from the table, telling his wife "I've got to take this" and went outside. Only then, alone, she put down her phone and stared into the distance with a look of utter dejection on her face. She cheered up when he returned, however, and took up her phone again as before.
Maybe I'm an old fashioned fuddy-duddy who has failed to keep up with "techno-progress", but maybe I'm seeing this new institution for the pernicious development it truly is.
PS: sport supplement. Each evening when back in our hotel room we watched the "National", aka the US Open golf and were privileged to watch the highly emotional victory of Brit Justin Rose. But there were problems. Firstly, every single scene was accompanied by the drone of the Goodyear blimp floating overhead. Sometimes fainter, sometimes really intrusively loud, the noise never went away from opening tee shot to final putt. I know professional golfers are famed for their fierce concentration, but I can't believe they didn't find it intrusive. Then there was the crowd. Now I know sporting crowds are always loyal to their countrymen, but did they have to boo Luke Donald's every shot? What did he do? (they did the same to Sergio Garcia, but then we all know what he did)
Finally, if I were Il Supremo, Emperor of the world, I would ban the shouting of "In the hole!" after every shot played. It's boring and stupid. On one occasion someone shouted it just as Justin was beginning his downswing. It didn't spoil his shot, fortunately, and class act that he is (Colin Montgomery would have gone apoplectic) he simply remarked: "That was a bit early." Now that's a true champion.
Tuesday, 11 June 2013
Whistleblowers: look out. The state is after you
Whistleblowers in all walks of life are an endangered species. And when they summon the bravery to make their concerns public, they risk the full fury of the state. Remember what happened when Mordecai Venunu alerted the world to the Israeli's possession of nuclear weapons? They put him in priz for 20 years. In America right now Bradley Manning is facing 300 years in a maximum security facility for leaking details about the hideous way America fights its wars. And it is worth adding here that while I accept that Julian Assange is grappling with his own problems at the moment, neither he nor the Wikileaks organisation has, despite promises made, offered any material support to Manning, even though his leaks to them have enhanced their profile enormously. A similar fate awaits a certain Mr Snowden should he emerge from hiding in Hong Kong and be foolish enough to return to his homeland.
Yet these heroes have made all of us sadder, if wiser with their horrific revelations. Here at home, anyone revealing the lamentable condition of our health service can expect to be sent to Coventry, lose their job or face criminal prosecution. But we need these brave ones, without them the fiasco at Mid-Staffordshire hospital would never have come to light, or the shameful disorganisation at Bristol children's heart hospital where so many unnecessary deaths occurred.
My suggestion: rather than punishing the whistleblowers, if after investigation their claims are substantiated (because we can't have people spreading a lot of lies) they should actually be rewarded, perhaps by promotion, perhaps by a cash handout from the institution they have discredited. That would be something like justice and not the current witch-hunts they face at the present.
Yet these heroes have made all of us sadder, if wiser with their horrific revelations. Here at home, anyone revealing the lamentable condition of our health service can expect to be sent to Coventry, lose their job or face criminal prosecution. But we need these brave ones, without them the fiasco at Mid-Staffordshire hospital would never have come to light, or the shameful disorganisation at Bristol children's heart hospital where so many unnecessary deaths occurred.
My suggestion: rather than punishing the whistleblowers, if after investigation their claims are substantiated (because we can't have people spreading a lot of lies) they should actually be rewarded, perhaps by promotion, perhaps by a cash handout from the institution they have discredited. That would be something like justice and not the current witch-hunts they face at the present.
Sunday, 9 June 2013
Pelagius gets it wrong... spectacularly
Two months ago, after watching Rafa Nadal lose his Monte Carlo crown to a surging Novak Djokavic, I noted his slow return to form following his injury lay-off of last year and predicted he would win no Majors this year
I have just now witnessed the architect of my hubris pull off a sensational win in that very tournament (I refer here to the win rather than the match itself; which was a very one sided affair, illustrating how far ahead of the rest of the field Nadal has become on clay). Throughout the championship he never looked in any doubt of achieving the unique record of eight wins at a single a Grand Slam tournament. No one, not Bjorn Borg, not Pete Sampras, not Roger Federer even, ever did that. And we can only suspect that other Majors may be vulnerable to the redoubtable Majorcan this year. In 2008 Nadal achieved another unique record when he became the only man ever to have won the French, Queens and Wimbledon in the same year, breaking a psychological taboo which had been in place for several decades. Obviously no one had told Nadal about it. I wonder what odds you could get on that particular treble this year?
[supplement:11.6.13: not good. I understand he isn't playing at Queens this year]
In the Gotterdammerung department, the quarter-finals saw the exit of a great champion of yore: the peerless Roger Federer. He's not quite as quick around the court as he used to be; he's 32 for chrissake and that's pensionable age for a professional tennis player. But he remains the consummate artist. At one point in his match against Tsonga he was forced out wide on the right and whipped a forehand which propelled the ball, fizzing with top and sidespin, between the umpire's chair and the net post, before finding its way to the baseline, precisely at the corner of the court. His French opponent seemed to stare at the ball afterwards, baffled momentarily by what Federer had just conjured. Oh, tennis! I love you so much. I can't play any more because of me knees, doc, but I can still enjoy. So I say: bring Wimbers on, if you please!
I have just now witnessed the architect of my hubris pull off a sensational win in that very tournament (I refer here to the win rather than the match itself; which was a very one sided affair, illustrating how far ahead of the rest of the field Nadal has become on clay). Throughout the championship he never looked in any doubt of achieving the unique record of eight wins at a single a Grand Slam tournament. No one, not Bjorn Borg, not Pete Sampras, not Roger Federer even, ever did that. And we can only suspect that other Majors may be vulnerable to the redoubtable Majorcan this year. In 2008 Nadal achieved another unique record when he became the only man ever to have won the French, Queens and Wimbledon in the same year, breaking a psychological taboo which had been in place for several decades. Obviously no one had told Nadal about it. I wonder what odds you could get on that particular treble this year?
[supplement:11.6.13: not good. I understand he isn't playing at Queens this year]
In the Gotterdammerung department, the quarter-finals saw the exit of a great champion of yore: the peerless Roger Federer. He's not quite as quick around the court as he used to be; he's 32 for chrissake and that's pensionable age for a professional tennis player. But he remains the consummate artist. At one point in his match against Tsonga he was forced out wide on the right and whipped a forehand which propelled the ball, fizzing with top and sidespin, between the umpire's chair and the net post, before finding its way to the baseline, precisely at the corner of the court. His French opponent seemed to stare at the ball afterwards, baffled momentarily by what Federer had just conjured. Oh, tennis! I love you so much. I can't play any more because of me knees, doc, but I can still enjoy. So I say: bring Wimbers on, if you please!
Wednesday, 5 June 2013
Living on planet Earth is bad for your unborn baby: official
Today the RCOG (Royal College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists) has issued a report advising mothers-to-be to avoid all sorts of agents in the environment in order to give their offspring the best chance of success in later life. These include food packed in plastic, food in tins and even new cars. Now we all know that that "new car smell" is kinda funny, but isn't this a little bit crazy?
There is already overwhelming evidence that smoking and drinking in pregnancy has a toxic effect on the foetus, though critics have suggested that the evidence for the other things mentioned above is lacking, and they have a point. So: has the RCOG gone too far?
I don't think so. You see, the fact is that all sorts of strange things can happen in the intra-uterine environment which can have a devastating effect on the life of the unborn baby, and we don't understand all of them. Everyone knows about the terrible effect of certain drugs (thalidomide immediately springs to mind) and infections like rubella, but some babies are born with significant defects for no readily apparent reason.
The transformation of a single celled zygote into a seven pound baby is one of the most extraordinary miracles in nature. Babies in the womb grow faster than the most malignant tumour, yet while a cancer is just a blob of undifferentiated tissue, in babies every cell is completely differentiated into bone, sinew, nerve and so on, and all in exactly the right place. But sometimes, for reasons we do not yet understand, it goes horribly wrong
Let us take the case of anencephaly, a situation where the top half of the brain fails to form and affected children always die within hours of birth. No one knows why. And this awful condition is commoner in south Wales and the north-east of England than anywhere else in the world. Now these areas are both known for their economic deprivation, but then plenty of other areas are even worse, so that cannot be the sole answer. At one time the agent responsible was thought to be a virus that causes potatoes to rot, but further research discredited this theory. We're back where we started. So if the RCOG's off-the-wall ideas were adopted by the nation as a whole, and if even a few less foetal malformations resulted, wouldn't that be great?
There is already overwhelming evidence that smoking and drinking in pregnancy has a toxic effect on the foetus, though critics have suggested that the evidence for the other things mentioned above is lacking, and they have a point. So: has the RCOG gone too far?
I don't think so. You see, the fact is that all sorts of strange things can happen in the intra-uterine environment which can have a devastating effect on the life of the unborn baby, and we don't understand all of them. Everyone knows about the terrible effect of certain drugs (thalidomide immediately springs to mind) and infections like rubella, but some babies are born with significant defects for no readily apparent reason.
The transformation of a single celled zygote into a seven pound baby is one of the most extraordinary miracles in nature. Babies in the womb grow faster than the most malignant tumour, yet while a cancer is just a blob of undifferentiated tissue, in babies every cell is completely differentiated into bone, sinew, nerve and so on, and all in exactly the right place. But sometimes, for reasons we do not yet understand, it goes horribly wrong
Let us take the case of anencephaly, a situation where the top half of the brain fails to form and affected children always die within hours of birth. No one knows why. And this awful condition is commoner in south Wales and the north-east of England than anywhere else in the world. Now these areas are both known for their economic deprivation, but then plenty of other areas are even worse, so that cannot be the sole answer. At one time the agent responsible was thought to be a virus that causes potatoes to rot, but further research discredited this theory. We're back where we started. So if the RCOG's off-the-wall ideas were adopted by the nation as a whole, and if even a few less foetal malformations resulted, wouldn't that be great?
Sunday, 2 June 2013
May book and film review
BOOKS
A DANCE TO THE MUSIC OF TIME, by Anthony Powell. Volume VIII: THE SOLDIER'S ART.
Nick is still in the army, though he still finds time off to lunch with his friends at the Café Royal. Then a bomb falls and everyone's life is changed forever: rich and poor alike. Any more info at this point could be construed as a spoiler, so I won't. Read and savour for yourself. You won't regret it. Powell's writing is finely wrought, but eminently readable. Put another way, he's my kind of author..
MARCH TO THE MONTERIA, by B Traven. A young Mexican Indian is diddled out of his pay check by exploitative agents of a local landowner and forced to take part in a trek through the jungle to deliver goods to the Monteria (a mahogany logging operation). He seems placid enough on the surface, and this option is certainly preferable to a lengthy stay in prison, but inwardly he is planning a terrible revenge on the people who wronged him. Traven's ongoing preoccupation is to chronicle the terrible fate of the Mexican poor, who are ripped off by cynical capitalists at every turn, amd he does so eloquently in this book. The committed politics aside, this, like all Traven's novels, is also a gripping tale of hardship and sudden violence. Good stuff.
THE ROSE OF TIBET, by Lionel Davidson. In 1950, a young man journeys to Tibet to rescue his brother who has apparently disappeared into the eternal snows of that land, now embattled by incursions from the land-grabbing Chinese. Once there, he finds to his astonishment that he is recognised as some sort of living god. Not only that, but the local abbess, virginally pure, gets the hots for him. Big time... Graham Greene thought this book was a breath of fresh air in the field of "pure works of the imagination" and it is hard to argue with that verdict. Reading like a rather better written novel of Dan Brown, with symbols, mysticism, and even a touch of the preternatural as well as a fair salting of violence. The action is unrelenting and described in horrifying detail, like the moment when our hero encounters a bear in the high ice deserts of the Himalaya. Nasty...
A HERO OF OUR TIME, by Mikhail Lermontov. An aristocratic, rather self-centred young soldier is exiled to a regiment in the Caucasus where he has a number of exploits. The tales are told, not by him but by the people he encounters, or extracted from diaries the young man kept at the time. We see him trick a vulnerable young beauty into falling in love with him, carelessly snubbing an old comrade, then tricking another man into a duel he knows he can't lose. Written and structured in a manner which seems contemporary to us even today, it must have been thought revolutionary at the time. This, quite simply, is one of the greatest short novels ever written. Not just my opinion: Tolstoy and Gogol thought the same.
The introduction highlights the subtlety and multi-layering of the book, stating that there is much within its pages to appeal to the most discerning of critics as well as the "ordinary reader simply seeking entertainment". By these criteria I am clearly in the latter category, but this pedestrian reader's life has been actually moved by this marvellous book. In fact the real tragedy is Lermontov himself, who at the age of 26 embarked on a hasty duel with an old friend and was run through on the spot. Considering that he wrote this incredible book at the age of just 24, the loss to the world of literature is incalculable
FILMS
THE CAPTIVE CITY (1953) D- Robert Wise. A young newspaper man in a small town works to expose an organised crime racket that is blighting his community. They're none too pleased by his efforts, and seek to eliminate him- and his family. Effectively directed by the estimable Wise, who approaches his subject in an almost documentary style, it stars a very good John Forsythe (that's right; he did more than play Blake Carrington in Dynasty and doing the voice-over for Charlie in Charlie's Angels) and the result is an understated, near-classic product.
THE SUM OF ALL FEARS (2002) D- Phil Aiden Robinson. CIA man Jack Ryan (Ben Affleck) struggles to foil the evil plans of a terrorist group who want to ferment a world war by exploding a dirty bomb in America's heartland. Adapted from Tom Clancy's book, this is exactly what we might expect: a competently made thriller, not very probable, but no less entertaining for that. And Affleck convinces more than he often does. Not bad.
TED (2012) W-D- Seth McFarlane. A teddy-bear comes to life and provides a life-long companion to Mark Wahlberg. But when Marky gets hitched, Ted becomes jealous and hilarious consequences ensue. A kind of modern fairy tale, and with Seth McFarlane's stamp over every frame, we inevitably see strong echoes of Family Guy. You'd think that I, a big fan of Peter Griffin and his long suffering family, would love this; I mean, I like a good fart joke as much as the next man, perhaps more, but somehow there's something missing. What am I saying? It just isn't funny enough, despite the high production gloss. Shame. Perhaps he'll do better next time.
PROMETHEUS (2012) D- Ridley Scott. A crew of astronauts is sent to a distant planet where, allegedly, there be aliens. A prequel to Scott's 1979 masterpiece Alien, this is clearly the film he has wanted to make for years. There are frequent references to his earlier film, including a highly humanoid android who hides a dark secret. Nothing could equal the shock value of his original, but even so Scott creates another fine, frightening and highly disturbing movie. If you liked the first one, I'd say you've pretty much got to see this one.
THE MESSENGER (2009) D- Oren Moverman. A young army sergeant (Ben Foster) is drafted, against his will, into a squad (led by the excellent Woody Harrelson) whose job it is to inform relatives of the death of their loved ones in combat in Iraq. And they must do their job quickly, before the news makes the media. But everyone involved already appears traumatised by their own experiences of war, so whether they are best fitted for this grim task is open to question. This film has moments of greatness, especially in the scenes where Harrelson and Foster confront the bereaved: some of these cameos, almost little "filmlets" in their own right, are almost unbearably intense. But then the film is spoiled for me by some worrying scenes in which the characters suddenly behave out of character: for example, after appearing in every scene as the epitomes of sartorial elegance, they turn up at the wedding of Foster's ex-wife in torn jeans and filthy tee shirts. Maybe the director is seeking to show us the damaging effects of PTSD on one's personality, but it didn't work for me.
THE HUNT (2012) D- Thomas Vinterberg. A kindergarten teacher slightly upsets one of his charges, who extracts her revenge by accusing him of abusing her. She is believed over his protestations of innocence, and he is fired (though not prosecuted) From then on the small town community in which he lives ostracises him. Absolutely terrific and terrifyingly authentic account of small town prejudice given free rein by an atmosphere of crushing political correctness. And Madds Mickelsen (you'll remember him as Daniel Craig's nemesis in Casino Royale) is superb.
MIDNIGHT RUN (1988) D-Martin Brest. A bounty hunter (Bob deNiro) is commissioned to bring in an accountant (a very good Charles Grodin) who has ripped off the mob (though he has given the money to charity). However there's a big bonus if he delivers the suspect, not to the authorities but to the mob itself, so they can take their awful revenge personally. Bob takes the job, but moral issues cloud his normally incisive actions... A well made feature with strong performances all round, even if the ending doesn't quite jive with what we have seen already. Or maybe it's me. Watchable
PRIMER (2004) D- Shane Caruth. Workers at an IT firm accidentally make a time machine, which they use, firstly to make some money gambling, but then to alter the past to improve their present lives. But they keep making mistakes and having to go back to make further adjustments. Soon it all begins to fall apart, as we might expect. They should have read Einstein's writing on time paradoxes. I had a hard time remembering anything about this film only three weeks after seeing it, which I think says less about my incipient Alzheimer's than its essentially lacklustre nature. At least that's what I believe and I'm sticking to it.
TOTAL RECALL (2012) D- Len Wiseman. In the near future, a remarkably buff Colin Farrell buys some artificial memories, only to discover he has walked into a complex web of crime and murder. Then... Oh, why am I bothering? You know the plot already don't you, having seen the excellent original crafted by a Paul Verhoven at the top of his high-octane game. So why do we need this remake, and a remake which is only a dim shadow of its progenitor? I'm going to admit it: I gave this film only 60 minutes before saying enough is enough. And I don't do that very often. Seriously, don't bother wasting 2 hours of your precious life on this one.
THE REPLACEMENT KILLERS (1998) D- Antoine Fuqua. Hitman Chow Yun Fat is hired to kill a gangland boss's enemy, but when he sees him playing with his little boy he can't bring himself to go through with it. Enraged, the gang boss sends assassins to do him in. And when they fail, a replacement set are brought in- geddit? I like Chow Yun Fat a lot: I mean he's a Chinaman who's name isn't Lee, which is a change. Seriously, I enjoyed this romp which manages to keep the energy up throughout. The body count is kind of high though, so be warned.
THE CHANT OF JIMMY BLACKSMITH (1978) D- Fred Schepisi. In turn of the 20th century Australia, a young aboriginal boy is nurtured by a local teacher who teaches him to read and write; something a lot of the ruling white community can't do. But he soon finds that being literate provides no escape from the Apartheid-type system that operated in those days. Gradually his sense of resentment builds... Sensitive, beautiful and ultimately savagely horrific, this is a quite stunning piece of movie making as well as a comprehensive condemnation of man's inhumanity to man. Brilliant.
A DANCE TO THE MUSIC OF TIME, by Anthony Powell. Volume VIII: THE SOLDIER'S ART.
Nick is still in the army, though he still finds time off to lunch with his friends at the Café Royal. Then a bomb falls and everyone's life is changed forever: rich and poor alike. Any more info at this point could be construed as a spoiler, so I won't. Read and savour for yourself. You won't regret it. Powell's writing is finely wrought, but eminently readable. Put another way, he's my kind of author..
MARCH TO THE MONTERIA, by B Traven. A young Mexican Indian is diddled out of his pay check by exploitative agents of a local landowner and forced to take part in a trek through the jungle to deliver goods to the Monteria (a mahogany logging operation). He seems placid enough on the surface, and this option is certainly preferable to a lengthy stay in prison, but inwardly he is planning a terrible revenge on the people who wronged him. Traven's ongoing preoccupation is to chronicle the terrible fate of the Mexican poor, who are ripped off by cynical capitalists at every turn, amd he does so eloquently in this book. The committed politics aside, this, like all Traven's novels, is also a gripping tale of hardship and sudden violence. Good stuff.
THE ROSE OF TIBET, by Lionel Davidson. In 1950, a young man journeys to Tibet to rescue his brother who has apparently disappeared into the eternal snows of that land, now embattled by incursions from the land-grabbing Chinese. Once there, he finds to his astonishment that he is recognised as some sort of living god. Not only that, but the local abbess, virginally pure, gets the hots for him. Big time... Graham Greene thought this book was a breath of fresh air in the field of "pure works of the imagination" and it is hard to argue with that verdict. Reading like a rather better written novel of Dan Brown, with symbols, mysticism, and even a touch of the preternatural as well as a fair salting of violence. The action is unrelenting and described in horrifying detail, like the moment when our hero encounters a bear in the high ice deserts of the Himalaya. Nasty...
A HERO OF OUR TIME, by Mikhail Lermontov. An aristocratic, rather self-centred young soldier is exiled to a regiment in the Caucasus where he has a number of exploits. The tales are told, not by him but by the people he encounters, or extracted from diaries the young man kept at the time. We see him trick a vulnerable young beauty into falling in love with him, carelessly snubbing an old comrade, then tricking another man into a duel he knows he can't lose. Written and structured in a manner which seems contemporary to us even today, it must have been thought revolutionary at the time. This, quite simply, is one of the greatest short novels ever written. Not just my opinion: Tolstoy and Gogol thought the same.
The introduction highlights the subtlety and multi-layering of the book, stating that there is much within its pages to appeal to the most discerning of critics as well as the "ordinary reader simply seeking entertainment". By these criteria I am clearly in the latter category, but this pedestrian reader's life has been actually moved by this marvellous book. In fact the real tragedy is Lermontov himself, who at the age of 26 embarked on a hasty duel with an old friend and was run through on the spot. Considering that he wrote this incredible book at the age of just 24, the loss to the world of literature is incalculable
FILMS
THE CAPTIVE CITY (1953) D- Robert Wise. A young newspaper man in a small town works to expose an organised crime racket that is blighting his community. They're none too pleased by his efforts, and seek to eliminate him- and his family. Effectively directed by the estimable Wise, who approaches his subject in an almost documentary style, it stars a very good John Forsythe (that's right; he did more than play Blake Carrington in Dynasty and doing the voice-over for Charlie in Charlie's Angels) and the result is an understated, near-classic product.
THE SUM OF ALL FEARS (2002) D- Phil Aiden Robinson. CIA man Jack Ryan (Ben Affleck) struggles to foil the evil plans of a terrorist group who want to ferment a world war by exploding a dirty bomb in America's heartland. Adapted from Tom Clancy's book, this is exactly what we might expect: a competently made thriller, not very probable, but no less entertaining for that. And Affleck convinces more than he often does. Not bad.
TED (2012) W-D- Seth McFarlane. A teddy-bear comes to life and provides a life-long companion to Mark Wahlberg. But when Marky gets hitched, Ted becomes jealous and hilarious consequences ensue. A kind of modern fairy tale, and with Seth McFarlane's stamp over every frame, we inevitably see strong echoes of Family Guy. You'd think that I, a big fan of Peter Griffin and his long suffering family, would love this; I mean, I like a good fart joke as much as the next man, perhaps more, but somehow there's something missing. What am I saying? It just isn't funny enough, despite the high production gloss. Shame. Perhaps he'll do better next time.
PROMETHEUS (2012) D- Ridley Scott. A crew of astronauts is sent to a distant planet where, allegedly, there be aliens. A prequel to Scott's 1979 masterpiece Alien, this is clearly the film he has wanted to make for years. There are frequent references to his earlier film, including a highly humanoid android who hides a dark secret. Nothing could equal the shock value of his original, but even so Scott creates another fine, frightening and highly disturbing movie. If you liked the first one, I'd say you've pretty much got to see this one.
THE MESSENGER (2009) D- Oren Moverman. A young army sergeant (Ben Foster) is drafted, against his will, into a squad (led by the excellent Woody Harrelson) whose job it is to inform relatives of the death of their loved ones in combat in Iraq. And they must do their job quickly, before the news makes the media. But everyone involved already appears traumatised by their own experiences of war, so whether they are best fitted for this grim task is open to question. This film has moments of greatness, especially in the scenes where Harrelson and Foster confront the bereaved: some of these cameos, almost little "filmlets" in their own right, are almost unbearably intense. But then the film is spoiled for me by some worrying scenes in which the characters suddenly behave out of character: for example, after appearing in every scene as the epitomes of sartorial elegance, they turn up at the wedding of Foster's ex-wife in torn jeans and filthy tee shirts. Maybe the director is seeking to show us the damaging effects of PTSD on one's personality, but it didn't work for me.
THE HUNT (2012) D- Thomas Vinterberg. A kindergarten teacher slightly upsets one of his charges, who extracts her revenge by accusing him of abusing her. She is believed over his protestations of innocence, and he is fired (though not prosecuted) From then on the small town community in which he lives ostracises him. Absolutely terrific and terrifyingly authentic account of small town prejudice given free rein by an atmosphere of crushing political correctness. And Madds Mickelsen (you'll remember him as Daniel Craig's nemesis in Casino Royale) is superb.
MIDNIGHT RUN (1988) D-Martin Brest. A bounty hunter (Bob deNiro) is commissioned to bring in an accountant (a very good Charles Grodin) who has ripped off the mob (though he has given the money to charity). However there's a big bonus if he delivers the suspect, not to the authorities but to the mob itself, so they can take their awful revenge personally. Bob takes the job, but moral issues cloud his normally incisive actions... A well made feature with strong performances all round, even if the ending doesn't quite jive with what we have seen already. Or maybe it's me. Watchable
PRIMER (2004) D- Shane Caruth. Workers at an IT firm accidentally make a time machine, which they use, firstly to make some money gambling, but then to alter the past to improve their present lives. But they keep making mistakes and having to go back to make further adjustments. Soon it all begins to fall apart, as we might expect. They should have read Einstein's writing on time paradoxes. I had a hard time remembering anything about this film only three weeks after seeing it, which I think says less about my incipient Alzheimer's than its essentially lacklustre nature. At least that's what I believe and I'm sticking to it.
TOTAL RECALL (2012) D- Len Wiseman. In the near future, a remarkably buff Colin Farrell buys some artificial memories, only to discover he has walked into a complex web of crime and murder. Then... Oh, why am I bothering? You know the plot already don't you, having seen the excellent original crafted by a Paul Verhoven at the top of his high-octane game. So why do we need this remake, and a remake which is only a dim shadow of its progenitor? I'm going to admit it: I gave this film only 60 minutes before saying enough is enough. And I don't do that very often. Seriously, don't bother wasting 2 hours of your precious life on this one.
THE REPLACEMENT KILLERS (1998) D- Antoine Fuqua. Hitman Chow Yun Fat is hired to kill a gangland boss's enemy, but when he sees him playing with his little boy he can't bring himself to go through with it. Enraged, the gang boss sends assassins to do him in. And when they fail, a replacement set are brought in- geddit? I like Chow Yun Fat a lot: I mean he's a Chinaman who's name isn't Lee, which is a change. Seriously, I enjoyed this romp which manages to keep the energy up throughout. The body count is kind of high though, so be warned.
THE CHANT OF JIMMY BLACKSMITH (1978) D- Fred Schepisi. In turn of the 20th century Australia, a young aboriginal boy is nurtured by a local teacher who teaches him to read and write; something a lot of the ruling white community can't do. But he soon finds that being literate provides no escape from the Apartheid-type system that operated in those days. Gradually his sense of resentment builds... Sensitive, beautiful and ultimately savagely horrific, this is a quite stunning piece of movie making as well as a comprehensive condemnation of man's inhumanity to man. Brilliant.
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