Normally, as followers of this blog may have perceived, I hate Christmas and everything to do with it. The commercialism, the stress that pervades everyone's life until well after Boxing Day- leave it out I say. Go and spend Christmas in Morocco, or skiing somewhere (that's worked for me in the past; try Austria, where they have their big meal and presents on Christmas Eve and the Big Day is almost like a normal day, especially on the pistes).
But, courtesy of a number of Christmas movies I have found myself watching in the past couple of weeks, it somehow feels different this year. It started with a mega production called The Nativity Story, made in 2008 and approved by no lesser authority than the Vatican itself. They were mortified, perhaps understandably, when it emerged later that the 17 year-old actress playing the virgin was in fact in the early stages of pregnancy during the filming. Apparently this affected the box office in devout Italy, though for me it was a pretty serviceable re-telling of the old story, non-immaculate conception notwithstanding.
Then there was the 2009 British film Nativity, a generally awful movie saved by the excellence of Martin Freeman as the schoolteacher who wants to mount the best goddam nativity play ever produced. Next came Elf, a film every bit as good as Nativity was bad, so good in fact that in its transcendent happiness and life affirming qualities it has perhaps become the It's a Wonderful Life of the Millennium.
Finally the two versions of Miracle on 34th Street. The first, made in 1947 and featuring the estimable Edmund Gwenn as the Santa nobody can bring themselves to believe in until it is made obvious to everyone that he is indeed the real deal, is one of the greatest Christmas movies of all time. It didn't need to suffer the ignominy of a remake, but they did it anyway in 1994, with Dickie ("darling") Attenborough as Santa. To be fair, he did make a pretty fair fist of it in the event, but, as I say, it wasn't really necessary. How do you improve on perfection? Answer: you can't, stupid, so don't even try.
And there we have it. Through the medium of cinema I have made myself believe again- in the fun, the family and even the underlying meaning of it all. I'm ready for you Xmas! Bring it on!
And while I'm still in a good mood (my wife pointed out one unerring truth: I'm feeling good because Christmas Eve is definitely better than Christmas Day)- may I wish a very happy Christmas to all my readers! And may all your Christmases be relatively stress free...
Wednesday, 24 December 2014
Sunday, 21 December 2014
We don't know what's going on. Seriously
One of the best things about New Year's Eve is the publication of papers hitherto considered not fit for public consumption for thirty years. By this means we get a glimpse of what really happened- though even then the information is strictly limited. Some more sensitive information is kept secret for fifty years, like the cracking of the ENIGMA code in World War II. Some are kept under wraps for 100 years, and we have to assume that some extremely embarrassing stuff has the word "NEVER" scrawled across the top.
Hence we may never know what is really going on at the highest levels of government. Occasionally, however, we get unexpected insights well before the thirty years papers emerge, like the Snowden revelations,or, just the other day, the leaked email trails from Sony. On that one, by the way, President Obama expressed his disquiet over Sony pulling their film The Interview, but I wonder if one day it could emerge that he actually insisted on it, not wishing to see a chain of cinemas bombed by the North Koreans. We don't know.
Also the other day it emerged that the Saudis are secretly backing the ISIS fighters in their struggle to convert Syria and Iraq into a unified Islamic Caliphate- not wholly unlike the system that currently operates in the KSA. So the story goes, the oil-rich sheiks are funding ISIS partly out of a guilty conscience over their own profligate activities: adultery, gambling, drinking and drug taking, all proscribed the Koran but widely practised behind closed doors in cities up and down the Arabian peninsula. I note there appears to be no guilt over their disgraceful treatment of women in many parts of the Islamic world- that's cool apparently.
I think what I'm saying is, by all means watch the news on TV and read your newspapers, but remember: it's not even half the picture. To get the other half is much more difficult, though not impossible.
Hence we may never know what is really going on at the highest levels of government. Occasionally, however, we get unexpected insights well before the thirty years papers emerge, like the Snowden revelations,or, just the other day, the leaked email trails from Sony. On that one, by the way, President Obama expressed his disquiet over Sony pulling their film The Interview, but I wonder if one day it could emerge that he actually insisted on it, not wishing to see a chain of cinemas bombed by the North Koreans. We don't know.
Also the other day it emerged that the Saudis are secretly backing the ISIS fighters in their struggle to convert Syria and Iraq into a unified Islamic Caliphate- not wholly unlike the system that currently operates in the KSA. So the story goes, the oil-rich sheiks are funding ISIS partly out of a guilty conscience over their own profligate activities: adultery, gambling, drinking and drug taking, all proscribed the Koran but widely practised behind closed doors in cities up and down the Arabian peninsula. I note there appears to be no guilt over their disgraceful treatment of women in many parts of the Islamic world- that's cool apparently.
I think what I'm saying is, by all means watch the news on TV and read your newspapers, but remember: it's not even half the picture. To get the other half is much more difficult, though not impossible.
Thursday, 18 December 2014
Viva Cuba! Viva!
Like a lot of people I have been a little disappointed with the results of Barack Obama's presidency. His "Obama-care" health policy changes were strangled at birth by an implacable Republican party, sentencing millions of indigent Americans to third class medical care or, in many cases, no care at all. But in areas where he could have made a difference he has been depressingly silent- like the Israel/Palestine question, where he has been no more effective than his predecessor, who as we recall was no help at all beyond coining that catchy phrase "the road map to peace" Now there's a road less travelled...
However, in the last couple of weeks we have seen two significant pronouncements coming out of the White House. First, nearly seven years after saying he would do something about the detainees at Guantanamo Bay, he has at last released some of the prisoners. Good work, though I understand there are still many people still held there without charge for more than ten years. But it's a start.
Then yesterday he announced a thawing of relations with their old enemy, Cuba. America loved Cuba under Baptista. He was their kind of leader: ultra-right wing, putting the interests of big business (especially American big business) before the concerns of the ordinary citizen. And naturally they were horrified when Castro and co. ousted that hated dictatorship and began to build roads, schools and hospitals that even the poorest could benefit from. Indeed, so horrified were they that JFK authorised a highly speculative counter revolution to take things back to the good old feudal days. The attempt was an embarrassing failure, and ever since in an attack of pique that has lasted nearly fifty years, they have slapped a trade embargo on that already impoverished country, thereby depriving it of the enormous market that lay only ninety miles to the north.
Now it seems all this hatred and paranoia is going to come to an end, with normal diplomatic relations being resumed and perhaps a lifting of the embargo only just around the corner. Nice one Mr President! I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to do anything to justify the huge wave of optimism that surrounded your election way back in 2008.
However, in the last couple of weeks we have seen two significant pronouncements coming out of the White House. First, nearly seven years after saying he would do something about the detainees at Guantanamo Bay, he has at last released some of the prisoners. Good work, though I understand there are still many people still held there without charge for more than ten years. But it's a start.
Then yesterday he announced a thawing of relations with their old enemy, Cuba. America loved Cuba under Baptista. He was their kind of leader: ultra-right wing, putting the interests of big business (especially American big business) before the concerns of the ordinary citizen. And naturally they were horrified when Castro and co. ousted that hated dictatorship and began to build roads, schools and hospitals that even the poorest could benefit from. Indeed, so horrified were they that JFK authorised a highly speculative counter revolution to take things back to the good old feudal days. The attempt was an embarrassing failure, and ever since in an attack of pique that has lasted nearly fifty years, they have slapped a trade embargo on that already impoverished country, thereby depriving it of the enormous market that lay only ninety miles to the north.
Now it seems all this hatred and paranoia is going to come to an end, with normal diplomatic relations being resumed and perhaps a lifting of the embargo only just around the corner. Nice one Mr President! I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to do anything to justify the huge wave of optimism that surrounded your election way back in 2008.
Monday, 15 December 2014
Edinburgh dispatch
I have visited Scotland nine times in my life: to Orkney (twice) the outer Hebrides, the west coast, the east coast, skiing at Aviemore (twice), the highlands and the lowlands. For some reason, however, I have never visited its splendid capital city. Last weekend I finally put that right. And my goodness, am I ever glad I did.
It had snowed in the days before our visit, and there was still quite a bit around when we arrived in temperatures hovering around zero degrees. We were at least appropriately dressed, and attacked its major sights with some gusto: the elegant shopping district which is Princes Street, with a large Christmas fair situated right next to it in the shadow of the great Scott Monument. Innumerable stalls could be found selling everything from genuine German bratwurst (manned by genuine Germans) to outlets featuring cashmire scarves (almost impossible to avoid in Edinburgh), again staffed either by Germans or Chinese with broad Scottish accents. It was cold, but great fun and we parted with much of our cash but securing what we felt to be bargains (that, by the way, is the definition of a bargain: if you think it's a bargain, it is).
Next door to the Christmas market lies the Scottish National Gallery, featuring a sumptuous collection of works by masters both old and new. Perhaps the highlight for me was a room housing seven large pictures by Nicolas Poussin, depicting the Seven Sacraments. The atmosphere created was so powerful you almost felt as though you were standing on holy ground. There were other marvels too: the largest known picture by Vermeer, two wonderful Van Goghs painted during his sojourn at the insane asylum at Arles, and, especially poignant, a self portrait by Rembrandt painted towards the end of his life when he had suffered the disgrace of bankruptcy and was forced to sell his art collection and most of his other possessions. You can see the tiredness of life, the ennui coming from his eyes which, it seems, can only see the way forward to dusty death...
The following day we trudged up another glacial dunlin along the Royal Mile to the dark, imposing mass of Edinburgh castle, standing proudly atop a volcanic remnant, much restored in recent times but retaining enough of its ancient past to preserve its atmosphere redolent of the grim march of history. My highlights were the Scottish Crown Jewels, where, sharing the same bullet-proof glass case as golden crowns and necklaces with pearls the size of your thumbnail, was the celebrated Stone of Destiny- just a three hundred block of rough sandstone- or is it? It isn't hard to see it as imbued with some magical, animistic power.
Picking a day of reasonably clement weather we decided to make the walk up Arthur's Seat, a 252 metre high volcanic peg which actually lies within the city limits, a little enclave of wildness surrounded by the hubbub of modern city life. The walk proved much more of a challenge than we anticipated. Here the snow and ice had not melted as it dad done on the city streets, making the steep paths extremely hazardous, especially on the descent, which seemed, reassuringly, to present a formidable challenge to nearly everyone attempting the journey. I saw one Japanese girl simply sit down on the sheet ice at one point and burst into tears. As we slithered past, her boyfriend was doing his best to encourage her, putting his arm round her and whispering encouraging words into her ear (in English, oddly).
My own wife was not dressed quite appropriately for the occasion. She wasn't exactly wearing a cocktail dress and high heels, but her apparel might have been more suited to, say, shopping in a city during the winter. Nonetheless, we both made it up and down without major catastrophe, an achievement of which we were both justifiably proud.
On our last day, back in the relative safety of the city again, we spent a couple of hours wandering in Edinburgh's "New Town". In 1766 the architect James Craig was given the task of gentrifying the area of the city north of Princes Street to attract "men of rank" to the city. And over the course of the next twenty years he created a Georgian enclave that rivals anything to be found in Bath, Buxton or Harrogate. In an area of 500 rolling acres he built a network of streets, squares and circles with a panache rivalling anything achieved by Hausmann or L'Enfant. Magnificent rows of town houses look out over a series of delightful little parks (most of which, as in Mayfair, are locked against the general public). I presume most of these huge houses are now divided into apartments, though the atmosphere remains extremely gentile. At a small café in the heart of New Town I overheard a trendy young man ordering his breakfast: "I'll have the veggie breakfast please." Then an afterthought: "With bacon."
Why not?
Edinburgh. I have heard it described as the Athens of the North, and while I am usually suspicious of anywhere being described as the something of somewhere else, on this occasion I believe it to be justified. Edinburgh is not the Athens of the North: it is entirely its own entity: one of the most beautiful cities in the world.
It had snowed in the days before our visit, and there was still quite a bit around when we arrived in temperatures hovering around zero degrees. We were at least appropriately dressed, and attacked its major sights with some gusto: the elegant shopping district which is Princes Street, with a large Christmas fair situated right next to it in the shadow of the great Scott Monument. Innumerable stalls could be found selling everything from genuine German bratwurst (manned by genuine Germans) to outlets featuring cashmire scarves (almost impossible to avoid in Edinburgh), again staffed either by Germans or Chinese with broad Scottish accents. It was cold, but great fun and we parted with much of our cash but securing what we felt to be bargains (that, by the way, is the definition of a bargain: if you think it's a bargain, it is).
Next door to the Christmas market lies the Scottish National Gallery, featuring a sumptuous collection of works by masters both old and new. Perhaps the highlight for me was a room housing seven large pictures by Nicolas Poussin, depicting the Seven Sacraments. The atmosphere created was so powerful you almost felt as though you were standing on holy ground. There were other marvels too: the largest known picture by Vermeer, two wonderful Van Goghs painted during his sojourn at the insane asylum at Arles, and, especially poignant, a self portrait by Rembrandt painted towards the end of his life when he had suffered the disgrace of bankruptcy and was forced to sell his art collection and most of his other possessions. You can see the tiredness of life, the ennui coming from his eyes which, it seems, can only see the way forward to dusty death...
The following day we trudged up another glacial dunlin along the Royal Mile to the dark, imposing mass of Edinburgh castle, standing proudly atop a volcanic remnant, much restored in recent times but retaining enough of its ancient past to preserve its atmosphere redolent of the grim march of history. My highlights were the Scottish Crown Jewels, where, sharing the same bullet-proof glass case as golden crowns and necklaces with pearls the size of your thumbnail, was the celebrated Stone of Destiny- just a three hundred block of rough sandstone- or is it? It isn't hard to see it as imbued with some magical, animistic power.
Picking a day of reasonably clement weather we decided to make the walk up Arthur's Seat, a 252 metre high volcanic peg which actually lies within the city limits, a little enclave of wildness surrounded by the hubbub of modern city life. The walk proved much more of a challenge than we anticipated. Here the snow and ice had not melted as it dad done on the city streets, making the steep paths extremely hazardous, especially on the descent, which seemed, reassuringly, to present a formidable challenge to nearly everyone attempting the journey. I saw one Japanese girl simply sit down on the sheet ice at one point and burst into tears. As we slithered past, her boyfriend was doing his best to encourage her, putting his arm round her and whispering encouraging words into her ear (in English, oddly).
My own wife was not dressed quite appropriately for the occasion. She wasn't exactly wearing a cocktail dress and high heels, but her apparel might have been more suited to, say, shopping in a city during the winter. Nonetheless, we both made it up and down without major catastrophe, an achievement of which we were both justifiably proud.
On our last day, back in the relative safety of the city again, we spent a couple of hours wandering in Edinburgh's "New Town". In 1766 the architect James Craig was given the task of gentrifying the area of the city north of Princes Street to attract "men of rank" to the city. And over the course of the next twenty years he created a Georgian enclave that rivals anything to be found in Bath, Buxton or Harrogate. In an area of 500 rolling acres he built a network of streets, squares and circles with a panache rivalling anything achieved by Hausmann or L'Enfant. Magnificent rows of town houses look out over a series of delightful little parks (most of which, as in Mayfair, are locked against the general public). I presume most of these huge houses are now divided into apartments, though the atmosphere remains extremely gentile. At a small café in the heart of New Town I overheard a trendy young man ordering his breakfast: "I'll have the veggie breakfast please." Then an afterthought: "With bacon."
Why not?
Edinburgh. I have heard it described as the Athens of the North, and while I am usually suspicious of anywhere being described as the something of somewhere else, on this occasion I believe it to be justified. Edinburgh is not the Athens of the North: it is entirely its own entity: one of the most beautiful cities in the world.
Monday, 8 December 2014
Run away! The robots are coming! Aargh!
No lesser personage than Steven Hawking has announced the end of humanity as we know it if it pursues its desire for ever more intelligent machines. Once they reach the level of human insight and analysis, he claims, they will start to communicate with one another without our even knowing it and eventually, as did the computer Hal in the film 2001: A Space Odyssey, conclude that humans are no longer necessary for them to carry out their mission, whatever that is. This view exactly mirrors the plotline in The Terminator movies, where computers from the future have actually declared war on the human race.
Now I would normally be slightly reluctant to take issue with one of the most intelligent people alive on this planet. Steven Hawking is said to have an IQ of 215; hence it would probably be unwise to argue with him about anything. However, reckless as it may be, I do choose to take issue with him on this point.
Alan Turing is hot right now, with Benedict Cumberbatch (who is even hotter) playing him in the new film The Imitation Game. I haven't seen it yet, but I wonder if, along with the struggle to crack the Enigma code of which Turing was a critical part, there is any discussion of one of his most famous concepts: "The Turing Test". Trying to answer the question "Can computers think, or could they ever think?" he proposed this acid test: if by communicating with a computer, by whatever means, their response is indistinguishable from how an intelligent human being behind a screen might respond, then to all intents and purposes that computer is thinking.
No computer has yet passed the Turing test, but around the world the race is on to design software that could do it, and when it is finally achieved, it will be one of the greatest scientific breakthroughs of all time. That great futurologist Arthur C Clarke imagined his computer Hal could pass the Turing test with ease, and that by the year 2001. Thirteen years past that date it still hasn't happened, but I am told that the computer world is finally closing on this holy grail. In some ways there are already signs we are approaching it, like when you mis-type something into google and it helpfully asks if you meant something else, which is usually exactly what you did mean.
I might live long enough to see this historic milestone passed, and it will certainly change the world irrevocably. Apart from anything else, it could end loneliness once and for all, as we could purchase a sentient companion we could talk to, even have a meaningful and caring relationship with. Indeed, there is perhaps no limit to what could be achieved. Obviously safeguards would need to be built in (see Asimov's three rules of robotics)- but wouldn't it be nice if we could build similar safeguards into our relationships with other human beings? It's a brave new world I'm talking about here, and I for one can't wait for it to arrive.
Now I would normally be slightly reluctant to take issue with one of the most intelligent people alive on this planet. Steven Hawking is said to have an IQ of 215; hence it would probably be unwise to argue with him about anything. However, reckless as it may be, I do choose to take issue with him on this point.
Alan Turing is hot right now, with Benedict Cumberbatch (who is even hotter) playing him in the new film The Imitation Game. I haven't seen it yet, but I wonder if, along with the struggle to crack the Enigma code of which Turing was a critical part, there is any discussion of one of his most famous concepts: "The Turing Test". Trying to answer the question "Can computers think, or could they ever think?" he proposed this acid test: if by communicating with a computer, by whatever means, their response is indistinguishable from how an intelligent human being behind a screen might respond, then to all intents and purposes that computer is thinking.
No computer has yet passed the Turing test, but around the world the race is on to design software that could do it, and when it is finally achieved, it will be one of the greatest scientific breakthroughs of all time. That great futurologist Arthur C Clarke imagined his computer Hal could pass the Turing test with ease, and that by the year 2001. Thirteen years past that date it still hasn't happened, but I am told that the computer world is finally closing on this holy grail. In some ways there are already signs we are approaching it, like when you mis-type something into google and it helpfully asks if you meant something else, which is usually exactly what you did mean.
I might live long enough to see this historic milestone passed, and it will certainly change the world irrevocably. Apart from anything else, it could end loneliness once and for all, as we could purchase a sentient companion we could talk to, even have a meaningful and caring relationship with. Indeed, there is perhaps no limit to what could be achieved. Obviously safeguards would need to be built in (see Asimov's three rules of robotics)- but wouldn't it be nice if we could build similar safeguards into our relationships with other human beings? It's a brave new world I'm talking about here, and I for one can't wait for it to arrive.
Friday, 5 December 2014
The banality of evil in Britain today
Normally I am very cautious about sounding morally censorious in this blog. Let he who is without sin etc. And when I use the term evil, I more cautious still. The leadership in North Korea, the gun lobby in the United States, those followers of ISIL who are happy to behead people when they don't subscribe to their own brand of Islam- these are examples of evil at its rawest.
But you can find it right here in Britain today, as was revealed today when it emerged that the giant food company Premier Foods charge their suppliers simply for the right to supply to them. Remember, a lot of these suppliers are small family concerns who survive on razor-thin profit margins. Does Premier Foods give a toss about this? Do they fuck. They know there is intense competition among small suppliers to be taken up by PF, and therefore they can get away with keeping their boots on people's necks when they do business with them.
It is known that the big retailers, Tesco et al, operate a cutthroat policy regarding the deals they offer to their smaller suppliers and that they in turn have no option but to be as competitive as possible in order to avoid losing their contracts and thereby their livelihoods. But at least they don't charge them just for the privilege of supplying them in the first place.
Business secretary Vince Cable (Vince for PM! I say, and if not him then Peter Hain, though I guess both prospects are equally unlikely) has vowed to put a stop to this iniquitous practice- let's hope he is able to, and that the arch-capitalists in the cabinet (George Osborne and his buddies) don't slap him down. I'm sure nothing makes them happier than doing that...
But you can find it right here in Britain today, as was revealed today when it emerged that the giant food company Premier Foods charge their suppliers simply for the right to supply to them. Remember, a lot of these suppliers are small family concerns who survive on razor-thin profit margins. Does Premier Foods give a toss about this? Do they fuck. They know there is intense competition among small suppliers to be taken up by PF, and therefore they can get away with keeping their boots on people's necks when they do business with them.
It is known that the big retailers, Tesco et al, operate a cutthroat policy regarding the deals they offer to their smaller suppliers and that they in turn have no option but to be as competitive as possible in order to avoid losing their contracts and thereby their livelihoods. But at least they don't charge them just for the privilege of supplying them in the first place.
Business secretary Vince Cable (Vince for PM! I say, and if not him then Peter Hain, though I guess both prospects are equally unlikely) has vowed to put a stop to this iniquitous practice- let's hope he is able to, and that the arch-capitalists in the cabinet (George Osborne and his buddies) don't slap him down. I'm sure nothing makes them happier than doing that...
Monday, 1 December 2014
November 2014 book and film review
BOOKS
FRAMLEY PARSONAGE, by Anthony Trollope. A young vicar is favoured by the local dowager baroness, but he is tempted to join the fast set surrounding the Duke of Omnium (whom the baroness hates). While staying at the Duke's ancestral home he is prevailed upon by an unscrupulous M.P. to lend money- more than he can afford to say good-bye to- which naturally, as always seems to happen in Trollope novels, he does. Faced with public disgrace when he cannot honour the loan (which has been sold on) he is forced to rely on the good graces of the baroness's eldest son- but then falls out with him. What a to do!
Cited by John Major as his favourite book, this is a characteristic romp through the mores and sensibilities of the middle and upper classes of rural England in the middle of the 19th century. All human life is here as usual: the fast-living M.P. who has to sell his ancient seat to pay mounting debts, a battle of wills between opposing members of the aristocracy, charming, unsophisticated girls coming up from the country and wood by the scion of the manner (who may or may not be a bad egg) and a censorious priest who would rather he and his children starve than accept charity from anyone, because people of means must be evil by definition. My wife has read Trollope's entire canon of over 20 books and pronounced this one of her favourites, hence my decision to go for number 4 in the series of 6 "Barchester chronicles". Truth to tell, I had so much fun with it I'm wishing I had started at number 1. Never mind, there's still time to put that right...
TEN DAYS THAT SHOOK THE WORLD, by John Reed. In Russia during the momentous days of early November 1917 and the birth of the Russian Revolution, an American writer and committed socialist is there to record the events for posterity. What emerges is one of the greatest pieces of journalism ever written; equal in stature say, to William Russell's dispatches to the Times on the Crimean War or Bernstein and Woodward's famous coverage of the Watergate scandal.
The detail is meticulously recorded, the personalities of the big players dissected minutely. Two giant figures emerge: Lenin, not a figure of great personal charisma but with an incredible ability to explain complex political theory in a way that even the most illiterate peasant could relate to, and Trotsky, a man with truly huge personal character who with a few words could galvanise an exhausted, demoralised mob to grab their weapons and run to man the barricades. Interestingly, Uncle Joe Stalin is mentioned just twice and then only briefly. It wasn't until 1924 and the death of Lenin that he began to come to the fore.
The rest is history, and not very pleasant history at that. But John Reed would not live to see all that. He was dead from typhus within a year of the great revolution. But his book remains as his sublime legacy, a book full of tiny but telling detail, like the day when the first snow of Winter begins to fall, lightening everyone's mood considerably. Reed doesn't understand at first, but soon realises: ice and snow are a lot better than mud and rain... Then there is the time during a crowded meeting in a literally smoke-filled room when one delegate stands up and declares:
"Comrades! No one can breathe in here because of the smoke!". A quick vote is taken, and a motion to ban smoking during meetings is passed unanimously. But within minutes everyone is smoking again, and just as frantically as ever...
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN, by Sir Walter Scott. In mid-18th century Edinburgh, a young girl is sentenced to death for child murder- this despite the fact no child's body has been found. No matter, the law of the time did not require one. Her older sister decides to travel to London to petition the King for clemency- an extremely hazardous journey in those days. But she has two pieces of paper in her pocket which may assist her. The first is written by no lesser figure than the late Duke of Argyle, who wrote a testimonial for the girl's grandfather after he had saved the duke's life during a pitched battle some fifty years before. The other is a safe conduct pass penned by one of Scotland's most notorious felons. Even so, it seems an almost impossible mission. However in Jeannie we have a heroine of unsurpassed determination. If anyone can do it, she can...
We are off to spend four days in Edinburgh shortly, so it seemed only fitting to explore for the first time Scotland's most famous writer, and to read one that is actually set in that great city. Scott was fabulously successful in his day, not just in the United Kingdom but in Europe and America too. A kind of forerunner to Dickens, his character studies are full of wit and insight, and his plots race along like a horse and carriage at full speed. Much of the dialogue in Heart of Midlothian is in what is called "lowland Scots" a dialect which is difficult to understand at first, though one soon gets to grips with it. Fascinating stuff.
THE WASTE LAND, by T.S. Eliot. First published in 1922, this poem of just 434 lines (it covers just seventeen pages of text in my edition of Eliot's poems) was almost immediately accepted as one of the greatest poems ever written in the English language. The poem draws on sacred Hindu and Buddhist texts, as well as the writings of figures like St Augustine of Hippo, and, critically, as Eliot himself acknowledges in the first of his explanatory notes, Sir Charles Frazer's seminal book The Golden Bough, which attempts, apparently for the first time, to take an anthropological view of religion and spirituality. Frazer's view is that cultures proceed from magic, to religion, and finally to science as they attempt to understand the world around them, and Eliot's poem likewise might be understood as a majestic attempt to shake some sense out of an infinitely confusing and mysterious world
The poem has spawned countless PhDs as people have picked over its bones to find its hidden meanings, but perhaps the most important question is: what's it like to read? The answer for me is: quite extraordinary. Other words I could use might include: strange, mystical, obscure, magical, and deeply confusing. Above all though, is a sense of mysterious grandeur which is unique in my reading experience. My first resolution on completing was: I need to read this again, and again. And so I shall...
FILMS
INTERSTELLAR (2014) D- Christopher Nolan. In a world dying from environmental neglect, a freelance group resurrects a Saturn V launcher to send an astronaut (Matthew McConnaughey) to look into a worm hole in space which has been discovered in the vicinity of Saturn. Maybe on the other side of the worm hole there will be a world fit for humanity to live on...
Since I first saw 2001: A Space Odyssey in 1968 in Cinerama I've been waiting for a science fiction movie to match up to it. I'm still waiting. Apparently feeling the same way, Christopher Nolan decided to do the job himself. Unfortunately, despite some great production values and some very interesting ideas, he hasn't done it either. But he has managed to pay tribute to a number of other notable science fiction movies along the way. For instance:
a) an astronaut encounters predictable problems when he attempts to transfer from one space craft to another without functioning airlocks (2001)
b) another astronaut becomes emotionally attached to a robot (Silent Running)
c) a female astronaut gets in a bit of a tizz while experiencing problems in orbit (Gravity)
d) Benevolent super-intelligent aliens take a man on an unimaginable journey beyond the infinite (2001 again)
There are a number of plot devices which don't work for me in this film, best summed up by the American cosmologist Neil deGrasse Tyson, who asked why they didn't just try to fix the problems on Earth rather than going an improbable journey to find worlds which didn't seem too appetising either once they finally got there. However, as a modern piece of cinema I suppose this does work. Perhaps what I'm really saying is they don't make sci-fi movies like they used to. Maybe they never will...
GONE GIRL (2014) D- David Fincher. A middle class couple appear to be enjoying the perfect life when the wife (Rosamund Pyke) goes missing. Naturally the husband (Ben Affleck) is suspected of murdering her, but in the absence of a body or any evidence of an abduction, the police let him go. However they continue to harbour their suspicions; meanwhile the press has a field day...
With a highly articulate screenplay adapted from her own novel by Gillian Flynn and some highly skilled directing this is a pretty good film. The plot is almost byzantine in its complexity however, and I do not recommend going out to the loo or even so much as ceasing your concentration for a second. The players are just fine and the analysis of the press handling of the story is masterful. I do have some minor issues with the plotting, though when I voiced them to my brother he pointed out that you see the same sort of thing in every other Agatha Christie novel, so perhaps I shouldn't complain...
MANDELA: LONG WALK TO FREEDOM (2014) D- Justin Chadwick. A man grows up in the injustice that is Apartheid South Africa and decides to dedicate his life to bringing the evil regime down. Soon he is imprisoned for 27 years for violent rebellion, but even that fails to dampen his ardour. In fact if anything it strengthens it...
Idris Elba's finest hour you might say. What an honour it must be to play the greatest man of his generation, and perhaps the greatest black man who ever lived. And he certainly does a fine job of playing the father of a nation. I do have some problems with this film despite that: in trying to portray his whole life in 2 1/2 hours, we are forced to watch an almost madcap romp through his exploits leaving little time for reflection and real insight into the mind of a man who doubtless had his contradictions and existential struggles, just like the rest of us. On the whole though, I did enjoy it and found it intensely moving at times. Remember, I was there, in spirit at least, through much of his struggle, going on many anti- apartheid demos (on one of which I was beaten by the police, the British police) and following the story as it developed from Reagan and Thatcher saying they were happy to do business with an apartheid government to Mandela's assumption of power as the nation's first black president. Amazing days...
THE PATIENCE STONE (2012) D- Atiq Rahimi. In a desert village in an unspecified middle Eastern country, a woman's husband is shot in the neck leaving him in a vegetative state. He is completely unresponsive, so she begins to use him as a "patience stone", a kind of receptacle into which she can pour out her innermost thoughts, hopes and fears. In Arab tradition the stone is then buried, though she can't do that 'cause he's still alive. Still, he'll do...
There are other problems too. Her husband was the bread winner, and now she has no way to make a living. Except one...
A deeply moving and beautiful film of great sensitivity and insight, demonstrating that the world of Arab film making has most definitely come of age. Brilliant.
THE ROAD TO CORINTH (1967) D- Claude Chabrol. An international arms dealer is killed, and his beautiful wife is followed in the hope she will lead his enemies to his haul of weapons. A really rather silly offering in the style of a post-Bond spoof which was quite popular in the late sixties, especially in France. The film is most notable for the performance of its female lead, Jean Seberg, who shines in every scene. Poor Jean Seberg! Hounded out of America for her left wing views by J Edgar Hoover and his FBI, they continued their harassment even after she moved to France, making up stories that her baby was not fathered by her husband. Finally she ended her life in 1981- a great career blighted by intimidation, prejudice and senseless hatred.
STANDARD OPERATING PROCEDURE (2008) D- Errol Morris. Speaking of intimidation and senselss hatred, here it is updated to the Millennium. This is the story of Abu Graib prison in Iraq, where the CIA interrogated its detainees in any way they thought fit in their bid to keep the homeland safe. What happened there is now a matter of record, with prisoners being humiliated in all sorts of ways (you will recall the photographs of prisoners posed naked in bizarre human heaps). The title of the film refers to what was allowed (degradation, water boarding, "stress poses" and so on) and what was not (murder, breaking bones and, critically, photographing their activities) Hence the resulting prison terms handed down to a few of the guards, who in a living version of the famous Milgram experiments, simply did what their bosses told them to do without ever thinking to challenge the morality of their orders. Sobering stuff.
LA CEREMONIE (1995) D- Claude Chabrol. A young woman is taken on as housekeeper to a wealthy family; she makes a good first impression even though she harbours a dark secret. Well, it's not that dark: she can't read. She knows enough, however, to realise she must hide her illiteracy if she is to keep her job. Then she finds a kindred spirit in the shape of a local post office employee (a terrific Isobel Huppert) who has one or two secrets of her own. As their bond strengthens they begin to feed on each other's resentment of how society has treated them. And they plot their revenge...
Chabrol sank into something of a low during the sixties (see above) but here we see him back at his best with a riveting story loosely based on real events in Paris of the 1930s, where a pair of twins taken into service exacted lethal retribution against their employers. The case became a cause celebre for left wing intellectuals at the time including Jean Genet and Jean-Paul Sartre, who cited the case as an example of the evils of the capitalist system. Here Chabrol has adapted and altered the story for his own ends and come up with a minor masterpiece. Excellent.
THE GLASS KEY (1942) D- Stuart Heisler. A big-wheel political fixer (Brian Donlevy) claims he has the governor's ear to the point where he can twist him around his little finger. But his minder (Alan Ladd) warns him that his "key" to the governor's mansion could be made of glass- and snap off one day leaving him in the shit. Then the governor's son is found murdered and the police suspect the fixer of doing the deed. The kid was a loser, and interfering with the governor's chance of being re-elected. But is it as simple as that?
Of course it isn't. Nothing is as it first appears in this intriguing piece of film noir, based on the Dashiel Hammett book of the same name. The plot twists come thick and fast, but what shines is the strength of the characters, particularly Alan Ladd and Veronica Lake, who had already shown how strong their on-screen chemistry was in This Gun for Hire, which had come out the previous year.
Definitive noir.
PANTANI:THE ACCIDENTAL DEATH OF A CYCLIST. (2014) D- James Erskine. Marco Pantani started winning road races when still a child, and by the age of 24 was the world's best. In 1998 he won both the Tour de France and the Giro D'Italia in the same year, an almost unprecedented feat. Then Lance Armstrong came on the scene. From then on it wasn't just a case of being a better cyclist, it was a case of who does the most drugs without being caught. And no one was better at that than Armstrong. Desperate to keep up with the American, Pantani resorted to pharmaceuticals too, but unlike his American nemesis was soon caught, and this marked a tragic downhill spiral which could only end one way...
Powerful piece of documentary film making.
MISTER TURNER (2014) D- Mike Leigh. Being the life and times of Britain's greatest painter, shown in all his artisan perfection. Here is the man in full, a man with little time for his fellow human beings, obsessed with light and colour as he was to the exclusion of almost everything else. Accepted by the establishment even though he was never really part of it, in this film Turner grunts and prumps his way through the early part of 19th century England with one burning desire: to be known as her greatest ever artist. That this ambition was achieved, and so magnificently, scarcely seems real . Yet everything in this film is real. I have taken an interest in Turner since my teens and confirm all the details depicted in Leigh's film are completely authentic.
As we were leaving the cinema I heard an elderly lady in front of me say:
"It was a good film, but I didn't enjoy it"
Perhaps she found Timothy Spall's enthralling performance a bit hard to swallow, with all his grunts and monosyllables. All I can say is that it was a good film and I did enjoy it. In fact this could be my film of the year. If you only see one film this year, see this one. Hrrumph.
LONE SURVIVOR (2014) D- Peter Berg. In Afghan a squad of American soldiers are tasked with taking out a Taliban commander and are assured he will only have a few men with him. But their intel is faulty- he has a whole company of heavily armed men at his side. They decide on a tactical withdrawal but are soon spotted and pursued. One by one the men are shot or blown to pieces with grenade launchers. Soon only Mark Wahlberg is left. His only hope is rescue, but helicopters are extremely vulnerable to attack with RPGs. With shrapnel wounds in his leg he can barely walk- but his survival instinct is still strong. But how can he get out of this alive?
Based apparently on a real incident in 2009, Peter Berg's film is one of the more gritty and realistic war movies I have seen in quite a while. The viewer thoroughly identifies with our hero's grim plight- we so want him to get out alive but how is it possible? (we suspend for the moment any question as to why he is there in the first place- that's not for now)
This movie was one of the weekly series of "Sky Premier" movies, which show movies seen for the first time on British television. Usually they are absolute dogs, straight to DVD fodder, but this (and to be fair, Mandela: long Walk to Freedom, which was also part of this series) is actually superior movie making. Recommended.
FRAMLEY PARSONAGE, by Anthony Trollope. A young vicar is favoured by the local dowager baroness, but he is tempted to join the fast set surrounding the Duke of Omnium (whom the baroness hates). While staying at the Duke's ancestral home he is prevailed upon by an unscrupulous M.P. to lend money- more than he can afford to say good-bye to- which naturally, as always seems to happen in Trollope novels, he does. Faced with public disgrace when he cannot honour the loan (which has been sold on) he is forced to rely on the good graces of the baroness's eldest son- but then falls out with him. What a to do!
Cited by John Major as his favourite book, this is a characteristic romp through the mores and sensibilities of the middle and upper classes of rural England in the middle of the 19th century. All human life is here as usual: the fast-living M.P. who has to sell his ancient seat to pay mounting debts, a battle of wills between opposing members of the aristocracy, charming, unsophisticated girls coming up from the country and wood by the scion of the manner (who may or may not be a bad egg) and a censorious priest who would rather he and his children starve than accept charity from anyone, because people of means must be evil by definition. My wife has read Trollope's entire canon of over 20 books and pronounced this one of her favourites, hence my decision to go for number 4 in the series of 6 "Barchester chronicles". Truth to tell, I had so much fun with it I'm wishing I had started at number 1. Never mind, there's still time to put that right...
TEN DAYS THAT SHOOK THE WORLD, by John Reed. In Russia during the momentous days of early November 1917 and the birth of the Russian Revolution, an American writer and committed socialist is there to record the events for posterity. What emerges is one of the greatest pieces of journalism ever written; equal in stature say, to William Russell's dispatches to the Times on the Crimean War or Bernstein and Woodward's famous coverage of the Watergate scandal.
The detail is meticulously recorded, the personalities of the big players dissected minutely. Two giant figures emerge: Lenin, not a figure of great personal charisma but with an incredible ability to explain complex political theory in a way that even the most illiterate peasant could relate to, and Trotsky, a man with truly huge personal character who with a few words could galvanise an exhausted, demoralised mob to grab their weapons and run to man the barricades. Interestingly, Uncle Joe Stalin is mentioned just twice and then only briefly. It wasn't until 1924 and the death of Lenin that he began to come to the fore.
The rest is history, and not very pleasant history at that. But John Reed would not live to see all that. He was dead from typhus within a year of the great revolution. But his book remains as his sublime legacy, a book full of tiny but telling detail, like the day when the first snow of Winter begins to fall, lightening everyone's mood considerably. Reed doesn't understand at first, but soon realises: ice and snow are a lot better than mud and rain... Then there is the time during a crowded meeting in a literally smoke-filled room when one delegate stands up and declares:
"Comrades! No one can breathe in here because of the smoke!". A quick vote is taken, and a motion to ban smoking during meetings is passed unanimously. But within minutes everyone is smoking again, and just as frantically as ever...
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN, by Sir Walter Scott. In mid-18th century Edinburgh, a young girl is sentenced to death for child murder- this despite the fact no child's body has been found. No matter, the law of the time did not require one. Her older sister decides to travel to London to petition the King for clemency- an extremely hazardous journey in those days. But she has two pieces of paper in her pocket which may assist her. The first is written by no lesser figure than the late Duke of Argyle, who wrote a testimonial for the girl's grandfather after he had saved the duke's life during a pitched battle some fifty years before. The other is a safe conduct pass penned by one of Scotland's most notorious felons. Even so, it seems an almost impossible mission. However in Jeannie we have a heroine of unsurpassed determination. If anyone can do it, she can...
We are off to spend four days in Edinburgh shortly, so it seemed only fitting to explore for the first time Scotland's most famous writer, and to read one that is actually set in that great city. Scott was fabulously successful in his day, not just in the United Kingdom but in Europe and America too. A kind of forerunner to Dickens, his character studies are full of wit and insight, and his plots race along like a horse and carriage at full speed. Much of the dialogue in Heart of Midlothian is in what is called "lowland Scots" a dialect which is difficult to understand at first, though one soon gets to grips with it. Fascinating stuff.
THE WASTE LAND, by T.S. Eliot. First published in 1922, this poem of just 434 lines (it covers just seventeen pages of text in my edition of Eliot's poems) was almost immediately accepted as one of the greatest poems ever written in the English language. The poem draws on sacred Hindu and Buddhist texts, as well as the writings of figures like St Augustine of Hippo, and, critically, as Eliot himself acknowledges in the first of his explanatory notes, Sir Charles Frazer's seminal book The Golden Bough, which attempts, apparently for the first time, to take an anthropological view of religion and spirituality. Frazer's view is that cultures proceed from magic, to religion, and finally to science as they attempt to understand the world around them, and Eliot's poem likewise might be understood as a majestic attempt to shake some sense out of an infinitely confusing and mysterious world
The poem has spawned countless PhDs as people have picked over its bones to find its hidden meanings, but perhaps the most important question is: what's it like to read? The answer for me is: quite extraordinary. Other words I could use might include: strange, mystical, obscure, magical, and deeply confusing. Above all though, is a sense of mysterious grandeur which is unique in my reading experience. My first resolution on completing was: I need to read this again, and again. And so I shall...
FILMS
INTERSTELLAR (2014) D- Christopher Nolan. In a world dying from environmental neglect, a freelance group resurrects a Saturn V launcher to send an astronaut (Matthew McConnaughey) to look into a worm hole in space which has been discovered in the vicinity of Saturn. Maybe on the other side of the worm hole there will be a world fit for humanity to live on...
Since I first saw 2001: A Space Odyssey in 1968 in Cinerama I've been waiting for a science fiction movie to match up to it. I'm still waiting. Apparently feeling the same way, Christopher Nolan decided to do the job himself. Unfortunately, despite some great production values and some very interesting ideas, he hasn't done it either. But he has managed to pay tribute to a number of other notable science fiction movies along the way. For instance:
a) an astronaut encounters predictable problems when he attempts to transfer from one space craft to another without functioning airlocks (2001)
b) another astronaut becomes emotionally attached to a robot (Silent Running)
c) a female astronaut gets in a bit of a tizz while experiencing problems in orbit (Gravity)
d) Benevolent super-intelligent aliens take a man on an unimaginable journey beyond the infinite (2001 again)
There are a number of plot devices which don't work for me in this film, best summed up by the American cosmologist Neil deGrasse Tyson, who asked why they didn't just try to fix the problems on Earth rather than going an improbable journey to find worlds which didn't seem too appetising either once they finally got there. However, as a modern piece of cinema I suppose this does work. Perhaps what I'm really saying is they don't make sci-fi movies like they used to. Maybe they never will...
GONE GIRL (2014) D- David Fincher. A middle class couple appear to be enjoying the perfect life when the wife (Rosamund Pyke) goes missing. Naturally the husband (Ben Affleck) is suspected of murdering her, but in the absence of a body or any evidence of an abduction, the police let him go. However they continue to harbour their suspicions; meanwhile the press has a field day...
With a highly articulate screenplay adapted from her own novel by Gillian Flynn and some highly skilled directing this is a pretty good film. The plot is almost byzantine in its complexity however, and I do not recommend going out to the loo or even so much as ceasing your concentration for a second. The players are just fine and the analysis of the press handling of the story is masterful. I do have some minor issues with the plotting, though when I voiced them to my brother he pointed out that you see the same sort of thing in every other Agatha Christie novel, so perhaps I shouldn't complain...
MANDELA: LONG WALK TO FREEDOM (2014) D- Justin Chadwick. A man grows up in the injustice that is Apartheid South Africa and decides to dedicate his life to bringing the evil regime down. Soon he is imprisoned for 27 years for violent rebellion, but even that fails to dampen his ardour. In fact if anything it strengthens it...
Idris Elba's finest hour you might say. What an honour it must be to play the greatest man of his generation, and perhaps the greatest black man who ever lived. And he certainly does a fine job of playing the father of a nation. I do have some problems with this film despite that: in trying to portray his whole life in 2 1/2 hours, we are forced to watch an almost madcap romp through his exploits leaving little time for reflection and real insight into the mind of a man who doubtless had his contradictions and existential struggles, just like the rest of us. On the whole though, I did enjoy it and found it intensely moving at times. Remember, I was there, in spirit at least, through much of his struggle, going on many anti- apartheid demos (on one of which I was beaten by the police, the British police) and following the story as it developed from Reagan and Thatcher saying they were happy to do business with an apartheid government to Mandela's assumption of power as the nation's first black president. Amazing days...
THE PATIENCE STONE (2012) D- Atiq Rahimi. In a desert village in an unspecified middle Eastern country, a woman's husband is shot in the neck leaving him in a vegetative state. He is completely unresponsive, so she begins to use him as a "patience stone", a kind of receptacle into which she can pour out her innermost thoughts, hopes and fears. In Arab tradition the stone is then buried, though she can't do that 'cause he's still alive. Still, he'll do...
There are other problems too. Her husband was the bread winner, and now she has no way to make a living. Except one...
A deeply moving and beautiful film of great sensitivity and insight, demonstrating that the world of Arab film making has most definitely come of age. Brilliant.
THE ROAD TO CORINTH (1967) D- Claude Chabrol. An international arms dealer is killed, and his beautiful wife is followed in the hope she will lead his enemies to his haul of weapons. A really rather silly offering in the style of a post-Bond spoof which was quite popular in the late sixties, especially in France. The film is most notable for the performance of its female lead, Jean Seberg, who shines in every scene. Poor Jean Seberg! Hounded out of America for her left wing views by J Edgar Hoover and his FBI, they continued their harassment even after she moved to France, making up stories that her baby was not fathered by her husband. Finally she ended her life in 1981- a great career blighted by intimidation, prejudice and senseless hatred.
STANDARD OPERATING PROCEDURE (2008) D- Errol Morris. Speaking of intimidation and senselss hatred, here it is updated to the Millennium. This is the story of Abu Graib prison in Iraq, where the CIA interrogated its detainees in any way they thought fit in their bid to keep the homeland safe. What happened there is now a matter of record, with prisoners being humiliated in all sorts of ways (you will recall the photographs of prisoners posed naked in bizarre human heaps). The title of the film refers to what was allowed (degradation, water boarding, "stress poses" and so on) and what was not (murder, breaking bones and, critically, photographing their activities) Hence the resulting prison terms handed down to a few of the guards, who in a living version of the famous Milgram experiments, simply did what their bosses told them to do without ever thinking to challenge the morality of their orders. Sobering stuff.
LA CEREMONIE (1995) D- Claude Chabrol. A young woman is taken on as housekeeper to a wealthy family; she makes a good first impression even though she harbours a dark secret. Well, it's not that dark: she can't read. She knows enough, however, to realise she must hide her illiteracy if she is to keep her job. Then she finds a kindred spirit in the shape of a local post office employee (a terrific Isobel Huppert) who has one or two secrets of her own. As their bond strengthens they begin to feed on each other's resentment of how society has treated them. And they plot their revenge...
Chabrol sank into something of a low during the sixties (see above) but here we see him back at his best with a riveting story loosely based on real events in Paris of the 1930s, where a pair of twins taken into service exacted lethal retribution against their employers. The case became a cause celebre for left wing intellectuals at the time including Jean Genet and Jean-Paul Sartre, who cited the case as an example of the evils of the capitalist system. Here Chabrol has adapted and altered the story for his own ends and come up with a minor masterpiece. Excellent.
THE GLASS KEY (1942) D- Stuart Heisler. A big-wheel political fixer (Brian Donlevy) claims he has the governor's ear to the point where he can twist him around his little finger. But his minder (Alan Ladd) warns him that his "key" to the governor's mansion could be made of glass- and snap off one day leaving him in the shit. Then the governor's son is found murdered and the police suspect the fixer of doing the deed. The kid was a loser, and interfering with the governor's chance of being re-elected. But is it as simple as that?
Of course it isn't. Nothing is as it first appears in this intriguing piece of film noir, based on the Dashiel Hammett book of the same name. The plot twists come thick and fast, but what shines is the strength of the characters, particularly Alan Ladd and Veronica Lake, who had already shown how strong their on-screen chemistry was in This Gun for Hire, which had come out the previous year.
Definitive noir.
PANTANI:THE ACCIDENTAL DEATH OF A CYCLIST. (2014) D- James Erskine. Marco Pantani started winning road races when still a child, and by the age of 24 was the world's best. In 1998 he won both the Tour de France and the Giro D'Italia in the same year, an almost unprecedented feat. Then Lance Armstrong came on the scene. From then on it wasn't just a case of being a better cyclist, it was a case of who does the most drugs without being caught. And no one was better at that than Armstrong. Desperate to keep up with the American, Pantani resorted to pharmaceuticals too, but unlike his American nemesis was soon caught, and this marked a tragic downhill spiral which could only end one way...
Powerful piece of documentary film making.
MISTER TURNER (2014) D- Mike Leigh. Being the life and times of Britain's greatest painter, shown in all his artisan perfection. Here is the man in full, a man with little time for his fellow human beings, obsessed with light and colour as he was to the exclusion of almost everything else. Accepted by the establishment even though he was never really part of it, in this film Turner grunts and prumps his way through the early part of 19th century England with one burning desire: to be known as her greatest ever artist. That this ambition was achieved, and so magnificently, scarcely seems real . Yet everything in this film is real. I have taken an interest in Turner since my teens and confirm all the details depicted in Leigh's film are completely authentic.
As we were leaving the cinema I heard an elderly lady in front of me say:
"It was a good film, but I didn't enjoy it"
Perhaps she found Timothy Spall's enthralling performance a bit hard to swallow, with all his grunts and monosyllables. All I can say is that it was a good film and I did enjoy it. In fact this could be my film of the year. If you only see one film this year, see this one. Hrrumph.
LONE SURVIVOR (2014) D- Peter Berg. In Afghan a squad of American soldiers are tasked with taking out a Taliban commander and are assured he will only have a few men with him. But their intel is faulty- he has a whole company of heavily armed men at his side. They decide on a tactical withdrawal but are soon spotted and pursued. One by one the men are shot or blown to pieces with grenade launchers. Soon only Mark Wahlberg is left. His only hope is rescue, but helicopters are extremely vulnerable to attack with RPGs. With shrapnel wounds in his leg he can barely walk- but his survival instinct is still strong. But how can he get out of this alive?
Based apparently on a real incident in 2009, Peter Berg's film is one of the more gritty and realistic war movies I have seen in quite a while. The viewer thoroughly identifies with our hero's grim plight- we so want him to get out alive but how is it possible? (we suspend for the moment any question as to why he is there in the first place- that's not for now)
This movie was one of the weekly series of "Sky Premier" movies, which show movies seen for the first time on British television. Usually they are absolute dogs, straight to DVD fodder, but this (and to be fair, Mandela: long Walk to Freedom, which was also part of this series) is actually superior movie making. Recommended.
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