Should I joke?

I went to see a movie last night with my surprisingly (and quite frighteningly) enlightened partner - and came out (unfortunate word usage) slightly stunned! However, I shall do my best to review it - or at least write down my initial feelings on the subject. As you can see, I have resisted the urge to call the movie 'A Homo at the End of the World'. Ok, not so must resist the urge as completely give in.....damn it! Here's what I thought, anyway!


A Home at the End of the World

Director: Michael Mayer
Writer: Michael Cunningham (Novel & Screenplay)
Starring: Colin Farrell, Robin Wright Penn, Sissy Spacek, Dallas Roberts

Considering I had been largely oblivious to this movie’s production, it is no surprise (to anyone else) that the content completely blind-sided me. I was in no way prepared for the story that followed, having only seen one advert – which, sadly, made the movie look more like a TV3 ‘triumph over adversity’ story of friendship than the quite serious drama it actually is. I still have my reservations, strongly built upon this first impression – any movie where two characters sing a song together whilst driving in a pick-up tends to make me squirm…ooh, la fromage!

However, despite the many insultingly lame moments, the actual structure was shocking and realistic. The actors have the credit of displaying some of the finest skills I’ve seen this side of ‘Eternal Sunshine…’, amply filling their characters shoes – Colin Farrell in particular making me proud to be Irish, just for the sake of saying he’s ‘ours’. I mention ‘Eternal Sunshine’ because Jim Carrey is ostensibly the ‘star’ pulling-power of that movie, as is Colin Farrell for ‘A Home at the End of the World’, yet both maintain their own thunder, stealing none from their co-stars. They both underplay marvellously, and are so generous with their screen time that it really does not seem like their movie at all, but in each case gives the audience a true ensemble piece worthy of the story. They allow more time for other characters to evolve and become something more substantial than story fillers – a selflessness that is sadly lacking in many star vehicles. Moreover, the screenplay – which stands just the right side of pretentious – manages to reel you in, weaving Bobby’s magical influence around you, so that everything that happens in his life, and everything he feels, is transmitted directly to you via Colin Farrell’s remarkable talent.

The reason that I found it somewhat uncomfortable to watch was, of course, the homosexual storyline. It’s not that I find anything offensive about a movie that shows this life that I cannot fathom, but the fact is I was not prepared for it. I am not usually one to use trailers as my basis for a movie, but unfortunately that did happen to me here. I came into the show expecting a simple, albeit well told, tale about Colin Farrell and Robin Wright Penn, and was rather taken aback by the turn the story took. However, there is nothing gratuitous in this entire movie – the romance is dealt with by dint of such patience and timing, that it is truly hard to see it as anything other than love. All actors involved give this tough and dramatic tale a human edge sadly lacking in the writers previous outing, ‘The Hours’ – even though, I must say, I haven’t thought much about it or its ‘issues’ since. There was an element of the rushed about it – too much story to cram into under two hours of footage – so some scenes skipped by, belying their importance, and others dwelt too long on the unimpressive. My biggest quibble would be the fact that there is always a punishment for anyone in Hollywood movies that venture outside the norm. Without giving too much away, everyone who does anything ‘bad’ in this movie – homosexuality, drugs, promiscuity, etc. – ends up ‘paying for it’ in some way or another. Not the most powerful of movies to tell a tale that has become slightly hackneyed at this stage, but it has some shining moments of redemption. However, it remains for me a forgettable drama, though eloquently told.

George Lucas - is he Satan?

Why must George Lucas do it? I watched Return of the Jedi last night with my lover and, incredibly, fell asleep during the Yoda death scene (intensely Jim Henson, you are) – much to my consternation – and awoke just as Luke escapes the Death Star Mark 2 with the remains of his father, Darth (or ‘Mr. Vader’, as I’m sure he’s known!). Up until now I had some qualms on Lucas’ remastering and tinkering – I mean, out of all sequences least deserving of extension, Jabba’s musical interludes stands out! Who needs orgasmic semi-Great Gig-esque pop music sung by an overweight single lip? Especially when its function seems to be to ‘lighten the mood’ and distract viewers from the sex-slave undertones of Jabba’s dragging the chained and bikini-ed alien girl towards his Tony Soprano sized libido! It is a travesty that George Lucas cannot leave well enough alone! The accompanying scene includes Boba Fett lasciviously caressing two of the backing singers to this awful musical intermission. Tasteless stuff!

However, my quivering rage is reserved for the closing scenes. As I said, I awoke to Luke’s fleeing the Death Star (Mark 2) and flying down to Endor (was it Endor?) to oh-so-solemnly burn his pops, after which he heads to the Ewok city to meet Solo and Leia. So far so-Jedi, but suddenly there is a new scene introduced where Luke flies over a remarkably advanced city (with no sign of any Ewok) to cheers of multitudes gathered below. This is a several-minute-long sequence of ‘Hail to the Chief’ cheering and applauding, possibly saluting the end of the Empire, whilst ignoring the errant Imperial star fighter flying overhead (how would they know Luke was inside?), and then he is on the bridge, hugging Han and Leia. The Ewok sequence is buffed up (though most CGI scenes throughout the movie are) – their city also looks more advanced and ‘futuristic’, and it includes a far longer and edgier dance track, followed by the most galling sequence ever committed to celluloid…

Luke turns from his ‘sister’ and friend to see Obi Wan and Yoda glow approvingly at him, and then beside them??? I can’t even bring myself to say it – lurks HAYDEN CHRISTIANSEN!! Beside Alec Guinness and Fraggle Rock, looking…can you believe it…sheepish!!! All but ahh-shucks scuffing his feet on the ground, and looking endearingly at Luke.

I feel ill, I really do! Why would they put a twenty-year-old man beside the older Alec and Big Bird? What explanation could there be?

But what I really want to know is (since I was asleep during the Emperor vs Luke scene, and have no real intention of watching this ‘remastered’ version again) whose face was under the mask when Luke finally took it off on the Death Star??

I close by saying DEATH TO GEORGE LUCAS. He has soiled the once-great empire of Star Wars and left in its place a cruel joke of a trilogy! I weep over the un-named Jedi’s grave……

P.S. Here's a photo of my gorgeous boyfriend!! I don't know who the gimp on the left is, though...!

Terror on the 65

Picture it…I’m on the 65 on my way to Dublin, I get on at Ballymore (the stop before Blessington), I put Zeppelin 3 on and sit back, reading Bill Bryson’s ‘A Short History of Nearly Everything’. I am calm…I am happy. The bus pulls in at Blessington, two men get on. One sits two seats in front of me, the other sits at the top of the bus. Next of all the obligatory un-supervised large group of 8-14 year old feckers get on the bus, wreaking havoc and running for the back seat. I simply turn up the volume on my walkman, and loose myself in Tangerine and stories of amino acids.

The scene is set.

SUDDENLY I get a whack at the back of my head, I turn around and there's two of the little feckers (I'll call them LF's), about ten years old, having a 'mess-fight' on the seat behind me, and one had hit into me. I turn around and glare (that old trick!), but they ignore me, and continue fighting and pushing up against me, again and again....


Me: What the f**k?! Get back down to your seats, you little fu**ers, and pis* off away from me!

LF's: **Silence**

So, I assumed they'd learned their lesson. HA! Suddenly I got another whack at my head, and the main little fecker (I'll call him MLF) was walking over the top of the seats, on the bars, and had walked above my head, kicking me in the process. So I reached up, grabbed his foot, and pushed it into the air, throwing him over onto the ground (I think I hurt him. I think I may have even WANTED to hurt him!), so then he got up....


MLF: F**k you, you stupid bi**h. I'll f***ing kill you. Who cut your hair?

Me: **Just stared angrily at him, wondering what's wrong with my hair?? I paid good money for this! (Damn you Sarah Weldon, this would never have happend if you had cut it!!)**

MLF: Who got your bag? Who cut your hair? Where'd you get your stupid clothes?

Me: Right, that's it! (I happened to be wearing a particularily fetching multi-coloured stripey Pepe top. It cost me 40 euro, and was most certainly NOT stupid!) Get the f**k away from me right now, or I'll go downstairs and tell the driver, and he'll call the f**ing Guards, and they'll f**k the lot of yez off the f***ing bus! Now f**k off away from me, you little f***ing pri*k!

MLF: **Glares at me with his little buck teeth sticking out, and his little ganky eyes fixing my gaze in what can only be described as some sort of attempt at a stand-off**
{**Friends down the back shout things at me and say more things about my hair (damn you Sarah!!). Generally try to intimidate me.**}

MLF then walks off (I won the stand-off, it would seem - we take the little victories in life!) to the guy two seats in front of me and starts slagging HIS hair. Guy in front doesn't stick up for himself, or say anything much. He continues to abuse him, much to his friends amusement. He moves on to the guy at the front and starts annoying him, then the little baxtard turns around and says something else to me, (probably, let’s face it, about my hair again) so I shout…possibly shout quite loudly too (psychotic anger had taken over – I felt like the Hulk!)…


Me: Leave me alone, and leave everyone else on the bus alone, or that is f***ing it. Do you want to be dumped here in the middle of nowhere, because the Garda can be here in five minutes to drag the lot of you little f***ers off the bus.

MLF then returns to the back of the bus. I replace my walkman. ‘That’s The Way’ is just drawing to a close, I try to calm down with the music. Another person gets on the bus. He sits at the front. SUDDENLY, MLF is back!!! He goes up the bus to the seat behind this new guy, and looks back at me with a really bold (evil, if I’m being honest) look, and sits in behind the guy. He leans forward, taunting me with his about-to-disobey-me misbehaviour…

Me: Go on! I f***ing dare you, I f***ing DARE you to try anything else.
MLF & Friends: He’s not even doing anything to you…it’s none of your business, he’s not saying anything to you!
Me: It doesn’t make a difference, I told you if you kept annoying me OR anyone else on the bus, I was getting you kicked off, so that’s what I’m doing.
MLF: F**k off!
Me: Right, that's it, you're all off the bus, you little f***ing ba**ards!

So, then all his friends come up and sit on all the seats around me in a big semi-circle and start abusing me, and/or staring at me open mouthed (possibly a trick of the trade intimidation-wise amongst the skanger kinder that has yet to catch on nationwide). I sit and stare back at them, refusing to be intimidated (grrrr).

MLF (possibly their leader which, to give credit where it's due, is quite an achievement for a ten year old!) comes over and stands in beside me in my seat, then takes an actual swing at my face with his fist - an actual SWING (it was like Rocky, I tell you!). I grab his fist and push him against the seat-back beside me (quite roughly, I’ll admit) and say "Don't you dare EVER raise your f***ing hand to me, you little sh*t!", and then I push him away from me onto the ground.

Suddenly he just goes flipping mental, and starts trying to kick and punch me, so I drew back as far as my little flip-flops would go, and kicked him in the stomach. Yes, that's right, I kicked a ten year old in the stomach. And I'd do it again, if I had to!! (I actually meant to just push him away, but I was so mad that I used more force than necessary. But I really do still have big bruises on my legs from him kicking me, so I feel less sorry than I probably should!!)

I think they may have possibly, at this stage, thought I was some kind of psychotic mental case, because they all got off the bus very rapidly at this point, and didn’t even shout anything much back at me. Certainly nothing about my hair (perhaps they sensed it was a sore point that could send me off the edge of reason!).

Note to passengers - If the three ‘men’ (I’ll use that term very, very, very, very, very loosely) on the bus ever chance to read this blog, shame on all of you for sitting with your backs to me, and not even turning around at any point to see was I ok – a girl, by myself, up against a very large group of evil-kinder-minus-morals-or-fear-of-repercussion. Shame on you!

There’s probably a file in Tallaght Garda station at this moment with footage of a woman’s unsolicited attack on a defenseless ten year old. But we know the truth, don’t we? I feel bad, though. I mean, he was only a kid! Writing it all down, it does seem as if I may have overreacted a bit……

Oh the joys of Dublin Bus…next stop, those people who sit down the back smoking. You, my friends, are next!

The bus avenger...what should my super-hero name be?

You take the high road, and I'll take the low road.

Much like my boyfriend Alan (in his blog page), I feel the need to clarify some things about myself before I continue with the blog. I’m probably giving the wrong kind of cinematic impression of myself with mainstream reviews, so here goes my attempt at setting the record straight!

The kind of movies I like tend to veer from the very stupid to the very highbrow (stopping just short of the likes of ‘Andrei Rublev’), so I do – rightly or wrongly – consider myself to have somewhat eclectic tastes. There are, of course, some variables…I like Rocky, but don’t like the sequels. I love The Godfather, but prefer Godfather 2. I love Close Encounters… but hate The Terminal. I adore The Big Lebowski, but will hopefully die before I ever have to see The Ladykillers or Intolerable Cruelty again. Basically, no director is safely embalmed in a canon, and no actor has a firm grip on the upper rung of my ladder (so to speak). In consequence, I often find myself watching, as I did last weekend, crap like The Last Samurai next to classics like The Deer Hunter and Glengarry Glen Ross.

It keeps me rounded (and grounded).

I watched Heathers at the weekend with Alan – he had never seen it, I own it on DVD, so I think I owe it a quick ‘my thoughts on…’


Heathers

Director: Michael Lehmann
Writer: Winona Ryder, Christian Slater, Kim Walker, Shannon Doherty.
Starring: Daniel Waters

The trouble with reviewing an already well-known movie is that everyone has their minds made up. If you have seen it, then you love it or hate it, and if you haven’t seen it, then this masterpiece has probably dated just a little too much to be appreciated fully. Woe, I say, to those who were introduced too late!

Heathers is a remarkably well-written piece – probably a career-best from Mr. Waters (adored Batman Returns…but Demolition Man?), who gives incredible insight into the evil mind of teenage girls, and exposes the warts-n-all underbelly of sisterhood á la suburban 80’s Yuppiedom. The movie is quips a-go-go, as each line delivers with a black-packed punch, offering social commentary and guilty laughs with each line. Directed competently, if somewhat uninspiringly, (for a career that was to continue with such gems as The Truth About Cats And Dogs and the laughable – for all the wrong reasons – 40 Days and 40 Nights), the movie does at least have it’s own colour and mood infused in each scene. Blackly comic turns from Slater and Ryder turn teen suicide (don’t do it!) into social commentary of the tacky kind, and give high school pep-rally’s the same mass-murder appeal as Carrie’s overture at the prom.

The movie promises much, however with all the ‘teen angst bullshit’ that eventually achieves ‘a body count’, the ending shies away from full-on carnage, opting instead for morals and neatly wrapped ending – though still maintaining it’s caustic edge. Movies just are not made like this anymore – the recent Mean Girls proving that even when Hollywood tries to make good girls bad, it just ends up making the bad girls good. Hail to Heathers, then, as the only bad girl movie where not everyone gets their just desserts! An edgy, though in places soggy, social exposé of the squirming mess American high schools embody – something soberingly brought to mind by events such as Columbine – and a telling indictment of US foreign policy today. If they treat each other this badly, then the rest of the world doesn’t stand a chance.

In the spirit of Total Film’s latest letter’s page invite for two word reviews…

Heathers: How Very!


{By the way, Alan's blogg (as I have yet to discover how to change my 'link' settings) is www.alsnews.blogspot.com, and Boney-Woney's blogg is www.bonesaroo.blogspot.com. Alan is the love of my life, and Bones is a very good friend and fellow movie-maniac!}

Epilogue for Hoffman...?

Again, I am in work. Caring less and less about it all, because Bex can’t (won’t) change the date of her 21st, so therefore I will indeed be working the Friday and Saturday of her party. Of course, fingers crossed, I will have my car by then, so maybe it is do-able…maybe, maybe, maybe!

Ok, since I’m so busy in work, there won’t be another blog for a while! However, just to keep you informed of my movie life, last weekend I bought and watched;

The Deer Hunter (which I give 9/10)
Millers Crossing (6/10)
Glengarry Glen Ross (8/10)

……and rented The Last Samurai. Which I give a very very very very VERY generous 2/10. Do not watch this movie, people!

So, a good weekend was had, movie-wise! It’s always good to watch something crap in between classics – that way you can really appreciate the awesome power of Robert de Niro, Al Pacino, Jack Lemmon, et al. By the way, what is UP with ‘Empire’ these past two years??? How unbelievably crap has that magazine become (rhetorical question – you don’t have to answer!)?!!? Yesterday all my feelings for the tosh were justified by seeing their ‘top five living actors’ list in all its ignominy – from the top; Al Pacino (certainly no arguments), Marlon Brando (quibble slightly, but really would be ok with his inclusion – apart from the obvious lack-of-life thing…but that hadn’t happened at time of print, and now it is a glorious epitaph!), Jack Nicholson (agree wholeheartedly), Paul Newman (hell and no – this is what galls me!!) and Robert de Niro (apart from the odd slump – including pretty much everything he has done in the past seven years – he still amazes, but mainly through his earlier work). But here is the rub – where for art thou Dustin Hoffman???? Why, pray tell, was he not included?! The man is an absolute legend, and I cannot fathom why he would be knocked out by the likes of PAUL NEWMAN! My God, the man may make good dressing and without doubt can act, but please, people!!

Am I alone in thinking this??

Hanging on in quiet desperation!

Ok, I really feel like quitting right now! This big giant conference is a big giant pain in the ass – I mean, work should be work, and life should be life, and never the twain shall meet. But look at me (DON’T LOOK AT ME!!) – I’m a nervous wreck trying to sort this bloody thing out. Me…MEEEE caring about deadlines!!

Something is very wrong with the world, let me tell you!! But I did have a deadly weekend/Saturday-night-&-Sunday with my gorgeous boyfriend Alan…so I guess there are compensations.

But here comes a spanner in the works – the next conference I’ve to organise (taking place on the Friday 5th and Saturday 6th of November) coincides with my sisters 21st ON THE FRIDAY! I’ll just have to quit, or get her to move the day – whichever is easiest!! I cannot miss this night – and work is NOT a good enough excuse to miss anything!

I shall prevail (or end up crying for a long, long, long time……).

Mommy and Daddy got back from Scotland yesterday and brought me crystals – Bloodstone for decision-making, Druids Stone for destiny and Amethyst for spiritual well being. With a second name like Peace, you’d think I’d be prepared for having Hippy parents. Seemingly not – but at least they bought me a giant Toblerone too (sucks to you, Billy Connolly – they don’t attack my mouth!)!!

Thanks Momma and Poppa – I hope the crystals work!!

P.S. LOOK AT ME – Still in work at 5.20, and not due to leave until 8. That’s a 12 hour day, people!!

And on the sixth day....

I’m in work on a Saturday.

Saturday.

Doesn’t seem right, does it? And I wouldn’t mind but it’s one of those beautiful Saturdays that I would normally spend walking around town with my gorgeous boyfriend…do a little shopping, mess around in HMV for a couple of hours (DVD a-go-go), get some lunch in exciting places like Yamamori Noodles, Zaytoon, Gotham Café, Burger King and Eddie Rockets…and then, naturally, stroll over to UGC and catch a movie!

But where am I?? Running around the largely empty office like a lunatic trying to get as much work done as possible!! Well, you can be damn sure I’m going to enjoy my night off tonight – free house (except for my sister) and gorgeous boyf down for the night…it’s gonna be wild-n-crazy! Just in case your dirty mind is running away with you, my night tonight will consist of: Making and eating dinner (probably chicken stir fry); going out to a 21st to make an appearance for an hour or so with a couple of friends; coming home and lighting the fire; putting on a few DVD’s and eating lots of crap (chocolate, mighty munch, etc. etc.) whilst dozing in front of telly; eventually sleeping.

Well, screw you – it’s my kind of night!


Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

Director: Alfonso Cuarón
Starring: Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint, Emma Watson, Gary Oldman, Alan Rickman & Emma Thompson.
Screenplay: JK Rowling (novel) & Stephen Kloves (script).

I hated the two previous Harry Potters. I really did! I have also never read the books, and have no intention of ever doing so unless forced. I have a very strong dislike for Chris Columbus, and was delighted to see him go, taking his insipid direction with him. And what a difference it has made! Though the ‘kids’ (teenagers, now) still embroil themselves Famous-Five like in every passing dilemma, the darker direction on this movie made it an actual pleasure to watch. Cameos from Emma Thompson, Paul Whitehouse, Dawn French and Julie Christie kept the laughter permeating the general air of doom, and I found each actor lent their own flavour to the proceedings. How sad it is, however, that Daniel Radcliffe cannot quite seem to pull off this acting ‘lark’. Rupurt Grint and Emma Watson, Ron and Hermione respectively, compound the matter by over-exaggerating and hamming every scene. They are only forgivable because they really do embody the irritatingly pretentious middle-class prep-school characters of the book to a tee.

The saving grace of this movie was its portrayal of the story being one of terror. Finally the Potter ensemble are given the dark wizardry and frightening spells they deserve – no more pigs tails on cousins, or snakes on tables – it’s monstrous beasts and wicked Dementors all the way. These Dementors, in particular, chilled the entire film (quite literally) and brought the darkness completely to bear on each scene. The Guards of Azkaban, they set out to find escaped prisoner Sirius Black, who has made his way to Hogwarts to find Harry – for what reason, we can only guess. Gary Oldman is the aptly named Black, and he revels in this role as he does every other – a genius to watch onscreen no matter what the character.

All in all this instalment earns four stars from me on the basis that it is by far the superior of the three, and shows a well placed step in the direction these movies should be heading. Some say Cuarón has made it too dark, but he is dealing with very dark subject matter…magic and wickedness combined with that most horrifying of states – adolescence.

Musings...

So, now I’m facing a dilemma – work is getting tough, I’ve just embarked on a college certificate course with Open University (Humanities) in an effort to keep my mind working, and I’m trying to sort myself out so that by the end of October I have a license and a car (albeit a small, old, shaky car – but a car, nonetheless!). So, what’s the dilemma, I hear you ask…? Well, my dilemma is that I am probably the laziest person in the world. Ok, maybe lazy is the wrong word, but unmotivated, certainly! And can I force myself to care enough about this course, this work, and this car to actually make the constant effort and follow it all through to the end???

Work is fine, because I always work hard (makes the day go quicker), but the college bit is the bit that scares me – it’s costing so much, and on top of the car I’m going to be in nothing but debt for the next few months.

Then there’s the work involved – budgeting for petrol, paying for insurance, paying for college, DOING the actual assignments for college! It’s going to be crazy, but hopefully all worth it at the end. Hopefully!

Anyway, on another note, the huge conference thing is next week – so I’ve to pull out all the stops for that one and sort myself out. Oh, the pressures of adult life! I took a day off during the week, and I was reminded of how it felt when I worked in the Irish Film Centre (now Institute) and went (occasionally) to Maynooth…just strolling around while everyone else was at work – not a care in the world! Happy days indeed!


Spiderman 2

Director: Sam Raimi
Starring: Tobey Maguire, Kirsten Dunst & Alfred Molina
Screenplay: Stan Lee, Steve Ditko (comic) & Alvin Sargent (script

Sam Raimi has managed the impossible – turning a wishy-washy first Spidey outing containing too much dialogue and too little serious action into a franchise worthy of Tolkien-like kudos. And, like the Lord of the Rings movies, the second one is even better than the first.

It introduces a nemesis that greatly surpasses the frankly derisive Green Goblin – the enigmatically named Doctor Otto Octavius who (no loss of irony here) becomes a mechanical beast bearing eight limbs – and plays Peter’s conscience and scientific mind against Spiderman’s heroic calling. Though frankly flawed (it’s hardly an art piece) the movie manages to grip you in ways the first failed – dragging you along with it’s action packed trajectory, making you laugh with it’s nods and winks to the audience and pulling you into a New York where a hero protects and serves.

Raimi mixes musical medleys and soft focus freeze frames (comic book tricks) to give it an overall ‘B-movie’ effect sadly lacking in the first. The spate of comic-to-film transformations over the last few years has created a black hole of talent (‘Daredevil’ anyone?) where comic books are not seen as the escape they were, but simply a chance to cash in on merchandising and throw out a simple kids movie. What makes ‘Spiderman’ so special is that it crosses over the levels and draws all ages. It does not pander, in the Disney sense, to balmy morals (though they are there) and simple story. Spiderman is torn by his inner demons and fights constantly with real life issues as well as the occasional grotesquely deformed and predatory archrival.

The film has downfalls, but they’re not fatal, and genuinely comic (excuse the pun) moments pull things back from the precipice whenever Aunt May goes into one of her ‘this-is-what-they-pay-me-for’ dialogue moments. ‘Spiderman’ performs well, and is as believable and enjoyable as any franchise that relies on a scientific disaster every year to create it’s story. Smart cameos from Bruce Campbell and Stan Lee keep things rolling nicely – though the inevitable conclusion, also like Lord of the Rings, looses the run of itself and unravels some of the good work done. However, great performances and even better action keep this movie at the level deserving of Spidey – swinging high and in anticipation of the next.