Recently, I have had the privilledge of working with Canterbury Christ Church University on their production of a new musical, When Midnight Strikes. This show takes place on New Year's Eve 1999, and examines briefly the lives of individuals at a party.
This is one of the first times this show has been put on in the UK; it will be presented on the West End in September. What's interesting about the show, I feel, is that it plays out very much like a review for the most part. Every single song sounds different to the last right up until the last quarter of the second act, when events in the plot begin to get serious. There's very much an influence of Sondheim in there, as well as perhaps some older classics.
Whether it works or not is a different matter. The main characters are surrounded by stereotypes: the gay, the nymphomaniac, the geek, the grumpy neighbour. At the very least, these characters are kept in the background until they are needed to help move the story along. Games of charades and "I Never..." help too.
The production is brilliant - I've been surrounded by some of the most talented, wonderful performers I've ever come across, and it's a top-notch amateur show. How well it works in the West End depends on how our audiences react to it. It's a small show so needs to be done in a small theatre, otherwise, like Rent, it just will not work in the UK.
Friday, 29 April 2011
Sunday, 3 April 2011
High Low Art
In recent years, the English National Opera seem to have been on a push to reach out to the majority. Opera today is arguably a minority art form; out of every form of theatre it most likely falls on the lowest rung of interest these days, underneath even ballet. This is not say that there is anything wrong with the art - far from it. It's just the nature of things - opera simply isn't mainstream.
So there has been over the last few seasons an attempt to create new contemporary productions, some of old works, some of original, to try and appeal to this majority that sticks it's nose up at a stereotypically snobbish art form. Anna Nicole is one of these. Based on the tragic true life tale of the former Playboy model and her infamous marriage to an elderly Texas billionaire and told with a very dark sense of humour, the opera explores at heart what it is to be famous and constantly in the attention of the media; in particular, how this lust for fame can corrupt and ultimately destroy.
It is perhaps a perfect story to be told in this form - the history of opera is full of tragic heroines - but in this case the story is sadly a lot more interesting than the score. That's not to say it isn't a good work - it's certainly a very vibrant score from Mark-Anthony Turnage, but sadly there are no tunes within it that you could leave a theatre humming. It's all a little TOO contemporary, almost as if they're trying too hard. Could it be the fault of the libretto, a very wordy affair from Richard Thomas, co-writer of Jerry Springer: The Opera? There are some great moments within it; when the lawyer Stern, viewed generally as the villain by the piece arrives too early in the story, the Chorus, made up as members of the press, scream, "Slayer of Bambi's Mom...Yoko Ono!"
The setting is done very well - at one point in the second half a giant screen comes down revealing years as we travel forward into the future. Both screens involve Anna Nicole in a typical supermodel pose. It flows straight from one scene to the next very nicely, but arguably finishes all too quickly. As soon as Anna's son Daniel dies of an overdose - a particularly chilling scene where the actor playing Daniel, in his only singing part of the show, chants the long list of drugs that were found in his body - the opera seems to want to hurry us along to Anna's own death. Act 1 is certainly better than Act 2; it feels less rushed as we slowly make our way through strip club to boob job to the fatal meeting of stripper and billionaire.
An ambitious project that certainly is admirable in terms of performances, setting and lyrics; but overall the show lacks the tragic bite that you feel it truly needs.
So there has been over the last few seasons an attempt to create new contemporary productions, some of old works, some of original, to try and appeal to this majority that sticks it's nose up at a stereotypically snobbish art form. Anna Nicole is one of these. Based on the tragic true life tale of the former Playboy model and her infamous marriage to an elderly Texas billionaire and told with a very dark sense of humour, the opera explores at heart what it is to be famous and constantly in the attention of the media; in particular, how this lust for fame can corrupt and ultimately destroy.
It is perhaps a perfect story to be told in this form - the history of opera is full of tragic heroines - but in this case the story is sadly a lot more interesting than the score. That's not to say it isn't a good work - it's certainly a very vibrant score from Mark-Anthony Turnage, but sadly there are no tunes within it that you could leave a theatre humming. It's all a little TOO contemporary, almost as if they're trying too hard. Could it be the fault of the libretto, a very wordy affair from Richard Thomas, co-writer of Jerry Springer: The Opera? There are some great moments within it; when the lawyer Stern, viewed generally as the villain by the piece arrives too early in the story, the Chorus, made up as members of the press, scream, "Slayer of Bambi's Mom...Yoko Ono!"
The setting is done very well - at one point in the second half a giant screen comes down revealing years as we travel forward into the future. Both screens involve Anna Nicole in a typical supermodel pose. It flows straight from one scene to the next very nicely, but arguably finishes all too quickly. As soon as Anna's son Daniel dies of an overdose - a particularly chilling scene where the actor playing Daniel, in his only singing part of the show, chants the long list of drugs that were found in his body - the opera seems to want to hurry us along to Anna's own death. Act 1 is certainly better than Act 2; it feels less rushed as we slowly make our way through strip club to boob job to the fatal meeting of stripper and billionaire.
An ambitious project that certainly is admirable in terms of performances, setting and lyrics; but overall the show lacks the tragic bite that you feel it truly needs.
Sunday, 20 March 2011
Audience Participation
I've just been involved in a play for the last week that involves a lot of audience participation. The show was The Farndale...Mikado (not it's full title, I'll stress); the premise is that an awful amateur dramatics company are attempting to put on The Mikado by Gilbert & Sullivan. Anything that can go wrong, does.
To get the audience into the mood of such a play, it is necessary to have a "pre-amble", where the actors and crew create the environment of the show as the audience enter the auditorium. It could be a prop being constantly moved from one side of the stage to the other; a director constantly losing his grip minutes before the show has even started proper; curtains that refuse to close conventionally. Yes, it takes a little getting used to but the audience eventually gets the basic idea.
When you go to see a piece of theatre, I truly believe that you gain so much more of an experience from it the more involved you are. When I directed The Diary Of Anne Frank in 2010 I particularly wanted the set to come out into the audience, for the only entrance and exit to the outside world to be the door that the audience had come into. For that purpose the curtains were open as they arrived. I plan a similar concept for my next project, Art, due in June this year, and a production that I will report back on from time to time in this blog.
I think this is why pantomimes are still as popular as they ever have been. They're about having fun, going out and being entertained; in the case of Anne Frank it means more - you get to learn more because you're more immersed in the story, you're more aware of what's going on around you. We stop being merely entertainers and take on the second role of educators. Farndale could be argued as being more panto-based than anything else, but it still has the same effect.
There's nothing wrong with a familiar box-stage production where everything happens on stage and the audience sit un-bothered and seemingly unnoticed by the people acting. However, as the continuing growth in the trend for one-on-one theatre has shown, theatre needs to once in a while shake itself and its audience up a bit; the quicker it does it, the better.
To get the audience into the mood of such a play, it is necessary to have a "pre-amble", where the actors and crew create the environment of the show as the audience enter the auditorium. It could be a prop being constantly moved from one side of the stage to the other; a director constantly losing his grip minutes before the show has even started proper; curtains that refuse to close conventionally. Yes, it takes a little getting used to but the audience eventually gets the basic idea.
When you go to see a piece of theatre, I truly believe that you gain so much more of an experience from it the more involved you are. When I directed The Diary Of Anne Frank in 2010 I particularly wanted the set to come out into the audience, for the only entrance and exit to the outside world to be the door that the audience had come into. For that purpose the curtains were open as they arrived. I plan a similar concept for my next project, Art, due in June this year, and a production that I will report back on from time to time in this blog.
I think this is why pantomimes are still as popular as they ever have been. They're about having fun, going out and being entertained; in the case of Anne Frank it means more - you get to learn more because you're more immersed in the story, you're more aware of what's going on around you. We stop being merely entertainers and take on the second role of educators. Farndale could be argued as being more panto-based than anything else, but it still has the same effect.
There's nothing wrong with a familiar box-stage production where everything happens on stage and the audience sit un-bothered and seemingly unnoticed by the people acting. However, as the continuing growth in the trend for one-on-one theatre has shown, theatre needs to once in a while shake itself and its audience up a bit; the quicker it does it, the better.
Sunday, 13 March 2011
Rough Contrasts
The BBC have recently, as always, begun transmitting programmes which are in stark contrast of each other in terms of whether or not they're actually any good. Three of them will be examined here briefly: Faulks On Fiction, South Riding and Mrs Brown's Boys.
Faulks On Fiction and South Riding are both part of a year long celebration on the BBC of the written word, and both show that this season is full of immense promise. Though slightly rushed and selective, Faulks On Fiction was a wonderful mainstream prime time glimpse into what makes a story great, focusing on four separate characters: The Hero, The Lover, The Snob and The Villain. There were both obvious choices - Sherlock Holmes for Hero, Lady Chatterley for Lover, etc - and others that were perhaps not so obvious - James Bond as Snob. Sebastian Faulks, writer of some great works himself including the horrifying Birdsong and the utterly brilliant The Girl At The Lion D'Or, proved a winning presenter and guide through this world. The one drawback was that, though many famous literary figures were interviewed, the interviews for each were kept to two short snippets. Really, Faulks should have had either longer interviews or cut them all together. The programmes would have run slightly better that way. Nevertheless, it was still an entertaining and fascinating journey.
More satisfying still was Andrew Davis' three-part adaptation of South Riding, Winifred Hotlby's novel of a town in 1930's Northern England facing the Great Depression and great change. Davis concentrated more on the doomed potential romance between the two antagonists - the optimistic Sarah Burton, played by the excellent Anna Maxwell Martin, and the gruff land owner in debt Robert Carne, the dependable David Morrissey. Sadly, this decision to focus mainly on this storyline took the plot away from what could have been a fascinating portrayal of Northern England during this time. The final episode contained some rather obvious results after an admittedly surprising tragic twist, and the final five minutes did feel a little rushed. But the performances from all, in particular Martin and Penelope Wilton, ensured this was still an enjoyable piece of drama.
On completely the opposite side of both decency and taste is Mrs Brown's Boys, a so called sitcom which has become the latest in a long line of what this writer likes to call "Marmite TV", as it's popularity with some people is truly inexplicable. An always packed studio audience seem to enjoy it too, as Brendan O'Carroll drags up to play the title character, a filthy old Irish woman trying to interfere with her grown children's' lives. The scripts are a mess, drifting from broad humour to filthy innuendo to sudden attempts at pure drama. At one point Mrs Brown jokes with her daughter Cathy (Jennifer Gibney) about Cathy's ex-husband, then shocking reveals that she knows he used to beat her. It just doesn't work. At times, the episodes allow mistakes made by the actors to be shown, O'Carroll walking through the different sets in the studio at one point to pick up a handbag he left behind. These "mistakes" even look staged. Inexplicable.
Never mind, though, BBC - two out of three sure isn't bad. And with the return of the brilliant Waking The Dead this Sunday for it's final season, TV just gets better and better for the Beeb.
Faulks On Fiction and South Riding are both part of a year long celebration on the BBC of the written word, and both show that this season is full of immense promise. Though slightly rushed and selective, Faulks On Fiction was a wonderful mainstream prime time glimpse into what makes a story great, focusing on four separate characters: The Hero, The Lover, The Snob and The Villain. There were both obvious choices - Sherlock Holmes for Hero, Lady Chatterley for Lover, etc - and others that were perhaps not so obvious - James Bond as Snob. Sebastian Faulks, writer of some great works himself including the horrifying Birdsong and the utterly brilliant The Girl At The Lion D'Or, proved a winning presenter and guide through this world. The one drawback was that, though many famous literary figures were interviewed, the interviews for each were kept to two short snippets. Really, Faulks should have had either longer interviews or cut them all together. The programmes would have run slightly better that way. Nevertheless, it was still an entertaining and fascinating journey.
More satisfying still was Andrew Davis' three-part adaptation of South Riding, Winifred Hotlby's novel of a town in 1930's Northern England facing the Great Depression and great change. Davis concentrated more on the doomed potential romance between the two antagonists - the optimistic Sarah Burton, played by the excellent Anna Maxwell Martin, and the gruff land owner in debt Robert Carne, the dependable David Morrissey. Sadly, this decision to focus mainly on this storyline took the plot away from what could have been a fascinating portrayal of Northern England during this time. The final episode contained some rather obvious results after an admittedly surprising tragic twist, and the final five minutes did feel a little rushed. But the performances from all, in particular Martin and Penelope Wilton, ensured this was still an enjoyable piece of drama.
On completely the opposite side of both decency and taste is Mrs Brown's Boys, a so called sitcom which has become the latest in a long line of what this writer likes to call "Marmite TV", as it's popularity with some people is truly inexplicable. An always packed studio audience seem to enjoy it too, as Brendan O'Carroll drags up to play the title character, a filthy old Irish woman trying to interfere with her grown children's' lives. The scripts are a mess, drifting from broad humour to filthy innuendo to sudden attempts at pure drama. At one point Mrs Brown jokes with her daughter Cathy (Jennifer Gibney) about Cathy's ex-husband, then shocking reveals that she knows he used to beat her. It just doesn't work. At times, the episodes allow mistakes made by the actors to be shown, O'Carroll walking through the different sets in the studio at one point to pick up a handbag he left behind. These "mistakes" even look staged. Inexplicable.
Never mind, though, BBC - two out of three sure isn't bad. And with the return of the brilliant Waking The Dead this Sunday for it's final season, TV just gets better and better for the Beeb.
Friday, 4 March 2011
Sondheim
Stephen Sondheim is getting a Special Recognition award later this month at the Laurence Olivier Awards. Last year the maestro turned 80 years old, a birthday that heralded a season of his work at the Donmar Warehouse, plus his very own Prom concert and the publication of the first volume of his "sort of" autobiography. Not bad for a bloke who's not really written much these last ten years or so.
There's not really a problem with Sondheim, truth be told; there can be no doubt that he is a genius, a legend of American Musical Theatre. Whether it's solely the lyrics that he often derides now from earlier shows such as West Side Story or Gypsy, towards the grand masterpieces of Company and Sweeney Todd, it is clear to all that Sondheim is a special kind of composer. His work during the 70s and 80s in particular redefined what contemporary musical theatre was - gone were the fun and frolics of the Golden Age of Broadway; now as the Great White Way found itself seething under corruption and pornography, Sondheim's true visions could be unleashed: the uncertainties of relationships in Company, the mistakes of reminiscing in Follies, the tragedy of vengeance in Todd.
In the 80s, when audiences began to tire of this darkness amidst a growing AIDs crisis and the boom time of Wall Street, Sondheim changed direction again; this time he became more philosophical. Sunday In The Park With George, arguably his second masterpiece after Todd, looked in depth at what it meant to be an artist. Into The Woods is a surprisingly old fashioned twist on old fashioned fairy tales, but works magnificently. Assassins and Passion, his last great works in the 90s, were smaller affairs, and more and more his work has - perhaps sadly - been downgraded into review type shows such as (the admittedly brilliant) Putting It Together.
Give the guy a break, mind - he is 81 this year. It seems a shame that his work seems thoroughly rooted more in the hearts and minds of middle class audiences, the audiences who could afford to go to the theatre at that time, his own background, when the messages within them are so universal. What a great joy it was then that Tim Burton, one of the few great auteur's we have in this time, took on the challenge of bringing Todd to the screen, introducing a whole new age to the brilliant songs, score and bloodcurdling, chilling lyrics. A new production of this epic is set for later this year at Chichister, with Michael Ball and Imelda Staunton set to play the leads. No doubt people will go to see it more because of the film than the original productions, but so much the better; Todd is one of the few film versions of Sondheim's work that hasn't butchered a classic.
His influences are certainly felt today; they run all the way through Rent, for example. Now is the time for a major revival. The sooner, the better. We may not get much more out of him.
There's not really a problem with Sondheim, truth be told; there can be no doubt that he is a genius, a legend of American Musical Theatre. Whether it's solely the lyrics that he often derides now from earlier shows such as West Side Story or Gypsy, towards the grand masterpieces of Company and Sweeney Todd, it is clear to all that Sondheim is a special kind of composer. His work during the 70s and 80s in particular redefined what contemporary musical theatre was - gone were the fun and frolics of the Golden Age of Broadway; now as the Great White Way found itself seething under corruption and pornography, Sondheim's true visions could be unleashed: the uncertainties of relationships in Company, the mistakes of reminiscing in Follies, the tragedy of vengeance in Todd.
In the 80s, when audiences began to tire of this darkness amidst a growing AIDs crisis and the boom time of Wall Street, Sondheim changed direction again; this time he became more philosophical. Sunday In The Park With George, arguably his second masterpiece after Todd, looked in depth at what it meant to be an artist. Into The Woods is a surprisingly old fashioned twist on old fashioned fairy tales, but works magnificently. Assassins and Passion, his last great works in the 90s, were smaller affairs, and more and more his work has - perhaps sadly - been downgraded into review type shows such as (the admittedly brilliant) Putting It Together.
Give the guy a break, mind - he is 81 this year. It seems a shame that his work seems thoroughly rooted more in the hearts and minds of middle class audiences, the audiences who could afford to go to the theatre at that time, his own background, when the messages within them are so universal. What a great joy it was then that Tim Burton, one of the few great auteur's we have in this time, took on the challenge of bringing Todd to the screen, introducing a whole new age to the brilliant songs, score and bloodcurdling, chilling lyrics. A new production of this epic is set for later this year at Chichister, with Michael Ball and Imelda Staunton set to play the leads. No doubt people will go to see it more because of the film than the original productions, but so much the better; Todd is one of the few film versions of Sondheim's work that hasn't butchered a classic.
His influences are certainly felt today; they run all the way through Rent, for example. Now is the time for a major revival. The sooner, the better. We may not get much more out of him.
Tuesday, 1 March 2011
The Oscars 2011 - Verdict
As is becoming more and more the case, the Academy Awards this year were full of unsurprising moments, with two exceptions - namely, two of the biggest ones.
Money and safe bets could have been placed on the acting categories. Colin Firth achieved what he should have been awarded last year, Best Actor, for his role in The King's Speech, while The Fighter took home the two Supporting Categories for Christian Bale and Melissa Leo, who brilliantly dropped the f-bomb in her acceptance speech. Another boundary broken, Oscar. Arguably the most satisfying awards were to the three most deserving - Toy Story 3 winning Best Animated Film, Aaron Sorkin winning Best Adapted Screenplay for his fast-paced, witty and wonderful script for The Social Network, and Natalie Portman winning Best Actress for the role of her career in Black Swan.
Considering how David Fincher won the BAFTA for Best Director it was indeed a surprise for Tom Hooper to walk away with the Oscar instead for The King's Speech; the film pulled a double whammy under this writer's feet certainly by beating The Social Network to Best Film, a feat that one didn't think the Americans would go for given the Golden Globe award the latter garnered.
As with last year and The Hurt Locker's success, it seems the Academy is turning more and more to the smaller budget, more independent feeling movies when confronted with more expensive hitters. The reward for the summer blockbusters is usually the more effects-based gongs, and so Inception deservedly walked away with those. Sadly, one feels that it would have had no real look in for the other main categories, especially considering how Christopher Nolan was snubbed with no nomination for Best Director.
Two surprises to end a rather unsurprising night; at the least this year one feels that the right films were being recognised with nominations, and that will be enough to bring them further into the public field. With the more independent fare such as Winter's Bone, this is only and always a good thing.
Money and safe bets could have been placed on the acting categories. Colin Firth achieved what he should have been awarded last year, Best Actor, for his role in The King's Speech, while The Fighter took home the two Supporting Categories for Christian Bale and Melissa Leo, who brilliantly dropped the f-bomb in her acceptance speech. Another boundary broken, Oscar. Arguably the most satisfying awards were to the three most deserving - Toy Story 3 winning Best Animated Film, Aaron Sorkin winning Best Adapted Screenplay for his fast-paced, witty and wonderful script for The Social Network, and Natalie Portman winning Best Actress for the role of her career in Black Swan.
Considering how David Fincher won the BAFTA for Best Director it was indeed a surprise for Tom Hooper to walk away with the Oscar instead for The King's Speech; the film pulled a double whammy under this writer's feet certainly by beating The Social Network to Best Film, a feat that one didn't think the Americans would go for given the Golden Globe award the latter garnered.
As with last year and The Hurt Locker's success, it seems the Academy is turning more and more to the smaller budget, more independent feeling movies when confronted with more expensive hitters. The reward for the summer blockbusters is usually the more effects-based gongs, and so Inception deservedly walked away with those. Sadly, one feels that it would have had no real look in for the other main categories, especially considering how Christopher Nolan was snubbed with no nomination for Best Director.
Two surprises to end a rather unsurprising night; at the least this year one feels that the right films were being recognised with nominations, and that will be enough to bring them further into the public field. With the more independent fare such as Winter's Bone, this is only and always a good thing.
Sunday, 20 February 2011
REVIEW - State Of Play
*** This review may contain spoilers ***
Washington: Up and coming politician Stephen Collins (Ben Affleck) is beginning talks with a major private security company when he is informed of the death of one of his staff. His emotional response threatens to damage not just the talks but also potentially his career and marriage. Meanwhile, his old friend Cal McAffrey (Russell Crowe), a reporter for the Washington Globe, is following the story of a young murdered black boy. It isn't long until the two events are mysteriously linked...
State Of Play started life as a brilliant six-part British television drama created by Paul Abbott who, among other projects, was responsible for Shameless and Clocking Off. It was high-edge, fast-paced and well executed, with an amazing cast including John Simm, David Morrissey and an award-winning Bill Nighy.
What's perhaps most interesting about THIS version is how well it transposes to the big screen without you really missing a lot of that. The storyline, though slightly modified, stays as sharp and tight as it did in the series. Washington looks spectacular as a setting for this, arguably the first big-budget political thriller to be set there since All The President's Men, which this clearly apes in several key moments, most notably the use of the infamous Watergate hotel by the private security company in a sly nod. What the film captures too is the feel of a newspaper at work as well as a newspaper under threat - even when the television series was made the impact of Internet Blogs and such were yet to be fully felt by newspapers. Now there is a real danger for all concerned that soon they will become very much obsolete, fears well portrayed in Helen Mirren's portrayal of the editor.
Sadly, though Mirren is very good, she is not on screen long enough to make the same kind of impact that Nighy was able to make in the original role. Robin Wright, as Collins' wife, is underused too, though this is because the secondary storyline in the series of a relationship between her and Cal is demoted here to a one night stand in the past. Also slightly wasted is Rachel McAdams, playing the role of Della that was played by Kelly MacDonald. Whereas there Della was more of a pro, here she is a newbie, a blogger being introduced to the world of real journalism. Her naivety sometimes grates with the rest of the film.
Much more convincing are Crowe and Affleck; the latter in particular makes up for the dodgy choices he has made film wise in the past and begins his long walk to triumph with a very fine performance. Crowe too shows us the same kind of dogged determination that he did in his brilliant performance in LA Confidential, though more world-weary. The supporting cast do well, although Jeff Daniels is relegated to a rather 2D politician; in particular Jason Bateman is very impressive as a slimy rich good-for-nothing who ends up involved in the case.
What is great about the film is that, for the most part, it can stand up on its own next to it's television cousin. Sadly, it just comes a little short to the expectations you might have for it based on its relative. Perhaps better to watch if you have never seen the show before.
7/10
Wednesday, 16 February 2011
The Brit Awards 2011
Awards season is well and truly upon us now - both the BAFTAs and the Grammys were on Sunday with few surprises, save how old Christopher Lee suddenly looks. Last night it was the turn of the BRITs. this year they had been revamped - new home (the O2 Arena), new look.
It would be fair to say that those who won awards did so because they earned them. Though the xx's brilliant Mercury-Prize winning album, XX, failed to pick up any gongs, Mumford & Sons were worthy enough winners of Album Of The Year. The Outstanding Contribution award has been ditched by the organisers, making this award now the most coveted of the evening. It had a nice twist to it, but when Roger Daltrey arrived to announce the winner of this award, you couldn't help but feel a pang of regret that we wouldn't see a classic star take to the stage and sing in celebration over their life's work for a few minutes.
Why the hell Justin Bieber was able to walk away with an award remains a mystery, and the proof that the BRITs mean business came in the announcement of several prizes for Arcade Fire, a band who would perhaps not even be nominated for something like an MTV Award, which always come from the people.
On the whole, this revamped BRITs was all about the music - stunning performances from Adele, Plan B and Tinnie Tempah, and an emotional speech from the voice of the new wave, Jessie J. Not bad - could be better.
Thursday, 10 February 2011
On Your Own
A friend of mine recently went to watch a matinee performance of Wicked at the Apollo Victoria Theatre, London; front row, Dress Circle. Nothing wrong with that, you may say - after all, Wicked is one of the few musicals of the first decade of the 21st century that seems to be standing the test of time, and good on it, with an interesting twisted script, some absolute belters to sing out loud, and a real family feel that one may not have felt could be made with a show since the glory days of Cats and (whisper it) Joseph.
But he went on his own. All on his todd. And he loved every minute of it.
This is not to say that this is wrong in any shape or form. Theatre is so important, such a vital, enjoyable form of entertainment, that if someone wants to go see a play/musical on their own then why stop them? But then why was I surprised to hear him say this? Why am I reluctant to go to a show I really want to see if nobody else is particularly interested?
It's the same with the cinema. I have rarely gone to see a film without being with a minimum of one other person. The only worthy instance was The Dark Knight, the day that it was released in cinemas - but then I was supposed to have gone to see it with a friend who suddenly became unavailable. My need to see the film was so great that I actually decided to go and see it anyway. Obviously I wasn't alone in the cinema - but I was surrounded by couples and groups of people.
Is there some kind of embarrassment factor when we go to a Box Office of a theatre/cinema and ask for a ticket for one? Do we hear the silent laughter in their minds, see the silent mockery in their eyes when they hand us that solitary piece of card? They're happy for the business you have provided for them, but that perhaps doesn't stop your appearing to them as a Billy No mates character.
This is possibly a lot of personal paranoia. At the end of the day there are plenty of people who go to the cinema/theatre on their own. But I honestly believe that these establishments are so much more than that; their very purpose, very design is to bring people together in one unifying act, either film or play, to entertain and to educate. it's a social experience - we love to talk to them before and after the film, or in the interval, to get their first-hand impressions, their opinions. We love to agree or disagree with them. We love to laugh together, we love to sing along together and we love to cry together.
Society needs these institutions. They have become the new pub, the new working man's club. Sadly prices do nothing to help their cause, but then a trip to one of them becomes more of an event, of a day/night out, something to truly remember. If you want to go on your own then absolutely fine - enjoy it, embrace it. Personally, unless anyone else is free, I'm more than happy to wait until the DVD comes out.
But he went on his own. All on his todd. And he loved every minute of it.
This is not to say that this is wrong in any shape or form. Theatre is so important, such a vital, enjoyable form of entertainment, that if someone wants to go see a play/musical on their own then why stop them? But then why was I surprised to hear him say this? Why am I reluctant to go to a show I really want to see if nobody else is particularly interested?
It's the same with the cinema. I have rarely gone to see a film without being with a minimum of one other person. The only worthy instance was The Dark Knight, the day that it was released in cinemas - but then I was supposed to have gone to see it with a friend who suddenly became unavailable. My need to see the film was so great that I actually decided to go and see it anyway. Obviously I wasn't alone in the cinema - but I was surrounded by couples and groups of people.
Is there some kind of embarrassment factor when we go to a Box Office of a theatre/cinema and ask for a ticket for one? Do we hear the silent laughter in their minds, see the silent mockery in their eyes when they hand us that solitary piece of card? They're happy for the business you have provided for them, but that perhaps doesn't stop your appearing to them as a Billy No mates character.
This is possibly a lot of personal paranoia. At the end of the day there are plenty of people who go to the cinema/theatre on their own. But I honestly believe that these establishments are so much more than that; their very purpose, very design is to bring people together in one unifying act, either film or play, to entertain and to educate. it's a social experience - we love to talk to them before and after the film, or in the interval, to get their first-hand impressions, their opinions. We love to agree or disagree with them. We love to laugh together, we love to sing along together and we love to cry together.
Society needs these institutions. They have become the new pub, the new working man's club. Sadly prices do nothing to help their cause, but then a trip to one of them becomes more of an event, of a day/night out, something to truly remember. If you want to go on your own then absolutely fine - enjoy it, embrace it. Personally, unless anyone else is free, I'm more than happy to wait until the DVD comes out.
Wednesday, 2 February 2011
The Electric Proms - RIP
So after five moderately successful years, the BBC has decided to end the series of concerts dubbed the Electric Proms. These were usually an eclectic mixture of old and new artists, with the majority of the performances taking place at the magnificent Roundhouse in London.
One could possibly have seen the signs that things were looking bad for the Electric Proms last year; only three artists took part - Elton John, Robert Plant and Neil Diamond - all with new albums to plug. Gone were the glory days of The Who, Shirley Bassey or even (god help us) Oasis. It didn't matter who it was; their performances on this stage were always electrifying. No pun intended.
These concerts also gave the artists the opportunity to work with groups they wouldn't normally have done so in your average, run-of-the-mill concert, working with orchestras or choirs, or sometimes both (steady now). Sadly, even these twists were lacking last time around.
The head of Radio 2, who championed the concerts, said that there was a better, more cost efficient way of staging these shows. Sadly, it has all come down to money once again. The Electric Proms haven't been with us long enough to invoke an uproar of anguish from the public over their cancellation, something that would no doubt happen if the Proms were given the same fate. It is merely sad, and hopefully something can be created out of their ashes.
One could possibly have seen the signs that things were looking bad for the Electric Proms last year; only three artists took part - Elton John, Robert Plant and Neil Diamond - all with new albums to plug. Gone were the glory days of The Who, Shirley Bassey or even (god help us) Oasis. It didn't matter who it was; their performances on this stage were always electrifying. No pun intended.
These concerts also gave the artists the opportunity to work with groups they wouldn't normally have done so in your average, run-of-the-mill concert, working with orchestras or choirs, or sometimes both (steady now). Sadly, even these twists were lacking last time around.
The head of Radio 2, who championed the concerts, said that there was a better, more cost efficient way of staging these shows. Sadly, it has all come down to money once again. The Electric Proms haven't been with us long enough to invoke an uproar of anguish from the public over their cancellation, something that would no doubt happen if the Proms were given the same fate. It is merely sad, and hopefully something can be created out of their ashes.
Tuesday, 1 February 2011
John Barry - 1933-2011
John Barry made James Bond recognisable. Though legally he was never credited with writing the famous tune for one of the longest running film franchises in history, his arrangement of it for the first film, Dr.No, was to literally bring the character to life in our imaginations whenever we hear it. Like the spy himself the tune is sexy, brooding, fast, dangerous.
All in all, Barry composed the scores for 11 of the films in the series. Not all of them were masterpieces, though it is fair to say that the weakest of the films have the weakest of the scores - perhaps there is something to be said about inspiration for a film composer if the film he is composing for isn't all that good. Yet the ones that stand out are the true classics, the giants of film scores: the urgent brass of Goldfinger, the romantic, lush strings of You Only Live Twice, the sense of something new in On Her Majesty's Secret Service.
Of course, Barry didn't just work on Bond films. His haunting themes for Out Of Africa or Midnight Cowboy brilliantly sum up the moods and plots of the respective features. His last Oscar winner, Dances With Wolves, was possibly the one Oscar that the film genuinely deserved to win.
His influences are felt all over the place - his true successor, David Arnold, certainly encapsulates the Barry feel to his Bond scores. It was a shame that he could not have worked on another one, and, though exciting enough the Michael Giacchinho score is, the rumoured score that Barry could have written for The Incredibles would have given the film a lot more class.
Thursday, 27 January 2011
National Television Awards 2011
Last night the National Television Awards took place. This is the only awards ceremony for TV that is completely voted for by the British Public. This usually means the same old faces are seen grinning behind statuettes. Last night, however, there were a few surprises. Strange ones, too.
In the category for Best Drama, where you had the likes of Doctor Who vs Sherlock, probably the most heated debate of the night, the gong instead went to Waterloo Road. Two shows as funny and diverse as QI and Mock The Week were saddled into the same category as Big Brother and the winning I'm A Celebrity...Get Me Out Of Here! When Benidorm won Best Comedy Programme, the first award of the night, you could have actually guessed that this was going to be a rough ride for favourites.
The usual suspects were there, of course - The X Factor giant obliterated its fellows in the Talent Show category; The Inbetweeners continued their final year with more silverware. David Jason, darling of ITV Drama, won an award. They just give them to him now in the David Jason category. EastEnders, the happiest soap on earth, won three awards, including Best Serial Drama. How interesting that this should happen right bang in the middle of a controversial storyline that has had people talking for quite a while now. Never mind the brilliant special effects of the Coronation Street live episode, or the hard-hitting story lines of Hollyoaks.
One thing everyone could be agreed on, however, was the recipient of the Special Recognition Award, Bruce Forsyth, a celebration that is long overdue. In typical form he commanded the audience effortlessly. you have to hand it to him - sometimes all you need is a pro.
Wednesday, 26 January 2011
REVIEW - Black Swan
Ho, boy. Nothing can properly prepare you for one of the most bizarre experiences you will every have in the cinema. But here goes.
*** This review may contain spoilers ***
Nina (Natalie Portman) has been given her big chance at long last: she has been cast to play the Swan Queen in a new production of "Swan Lake". But already pressure is building: her mother (Barbara Hershey) is trying to control her, a new dancer (Mila Kunis) could be trying to steal her role, and her director (Vincent Cassel) doesn't believe the darker side of her role, the Black Swan to her White...
Black Swan is ridiculous, insane and brilliant. It is a return to form for director Darren Aronofsky, echoing his epic The Fountain; it is a stunning blend of art, psychology and classic film genres, all of which add up to a uniquely stunning film.
That being said, it starts off slowly - very slowly. The titles echoing the most obvious reference, The Red Shoes, before we start to explore the story of Nina. But this gradual build up works eventually; the tension rises and rises, picking up pace as the film progresses, until the last 45 minutes when, literally, all hell breaks loose, and you are at a loss as to what you are watching is really happening or not.
Natalie Portman is amazing - never away from the camera, her character and the breakdown she suffers captivates the storyline and holds you tight in its grasp. Her performance will surely go down as one of the greatest of her career, defining her as an actress of her own rights, removing her from your memory of her in the sad, wooden Star Wars prequels. It is often incredibly difficult to tell whether or not it is her dancing or a body double.
The ballet scenes are shot wonderfully; though this is certainly a film that is not just about ballet, it still plays a pivotal role, aided by the brilliant, memorable soundtrack of Tchaikovsky's work, and adding real depth to the story and to the characters, as they echo the core themes of the ballet itself: desire, deception, death.
The film is not perfect, sadly; the script is most certainly full of clichés, resembling a high-budget erotic thriller at times more linked with something like Basic Instinct. Cassell's character in particular is a tried and tested formula of the teacher who lusts after his own students. There is a nice cameo appearance from Winona Ryder as a faded star, and one feels that more could have been made out of her character. Kunis is almost in danger of becoming a very 2D bad girl, but the script saves her as it sweeps the rug from under the audience's feet in a bizarre set of twists.
There are jumps a plenty, a few quite bloody scenes and, of course, the much talked about lesbian scene, which really isn't at all what it says it is on the tin. Be warned - this is not just a film about ballet. Ultimately, this is a film about obsession and madness, a companion piece to Aronofsky's last work, The Wrestler - where that was about a tried old man, this is about a scared young girl.
Utterly compelling once it gets properly started, this film will, like all of Aronofsky's work, divide everyone who goes to see it. Brilliant.
8/10
Tuesday, 25 January 2011
Oscar Nominations 2011
Exciting times. The Oscars are just a few weeks away, the Baftas even closer. The Golden Globes should have given us some idea of who we can expect to walk away with awards - but remember it's not always set in stone (Bill Murray for Lost In Translation, Mickey Rourke for The Wrestler - both stolen from them by Sean Penn...)
The biggest shock this year is that, once more, there is no Best Director Nomination for Christopher Nolan for his epic Inception. There is a Best Screenplay and Best Film nomination but nothing else for the genius behind this project. For shame.
All the usual suspects are involved - Colin Firth and Natalie Portman still the firm faves to take awards (though Portman is probably more assured a gong than Firth). As for Best Film, really there are no surprises. Once more Pixar shows it's might and provides us with an Animated Film nominated. Whether this recurs next year with the not-exactly-anticipated Cars 2 remains to be seen. Whatever the result, Toy Story 3 will be guaranteed an award - if not, then the Academy doesn't know how to function anymore, and must go back to potty training.
Though The King's Speech is nominated for the most awards this time round, it is likely to only pick up a couple, including one for wardrobe. The big winner will most likely be The Social Network. Time will tell.
The biggest shock this year is that, once more, there is no Best Director Nomination for Christopher Nolan for his epic Inception. There is a Best Screenplay and Best Film nomination but nothing else for the genius behind this project. For shame.
All the usual suspects are involved - Colin Firth and Natalie Portman still the firm faves to take awards (though Portman is probably more assured a gong than Firth). As for Best Film, really there are no surprises. Once more Pixar shows it's might and provides us with an Animated Film nominated. Whether this recurs next year with the not-exactly-anticipated Cars 2 remains to be seen. Whatever the result, Toy Story 3 will be guaranteed an award - if not, then the Academy doesn't know how to function anymore, and must go back to potty training.
Though The King's Speech is nominated for the most awards this time round, it is likely to only pick up a couple, including one for wardrobe. The big winner will most likely be The Social Network. Time will tell.
Thursday, 20 January 2011
The EastEnders Controversy
Soap operas are a curious breed. In the states everything is big and over the top, wonderfully made fun of by the establishment in various ways; just check out the scenes of Days Of Our Lives that appear in Friends. Very tongue in cheek, but then that's what a soap opera really is in the States: high drama, high glamour.
Over here in the UK it's a very different animal. A soap opera can be warm, funny and more realistic; Coronation Street is a good example of this. When something horrible goes wrong, it's a big event storyline because, usually, as in life, these things just don't normally happen on this show. A lesbian storyline, for example, like the one between Sophie and Sian on this show, takes time to develop, months even. It's a slow burner.
Other soaps are a strange mixture. For glamour and teen issues, see Hollyoaks. For daytime,, easy-going stories, see Doctors. But EastEnders is by far the extreme on the spectrum. Not a day goes by without something miserable happening on this show. That's not necessarily a criticism either: it's just what EastEnders is, what it has been from the outset. Its very first episode started with a death, and, if ever it happens, its very last one surely will too.
But recently, more attention has been placed around this pessimism than usual. A controversial storyline has shaken the country, if perhaps not dividing it, for everyone seems to wonder what the heck the writers on the show are playing at. What should have been a happy event takes place with a double birth - Kat (Jessie Wallace) and Ronnie (Samantha Womack) both giving birth on the same day. But this is EastEnders. They don't understand the meaning of the word "happiness". Ronnie's baby dies tragically due to Sudden Infant Death Syndrome (Sids); in desperation she swaps the babies around, leaving Kat and her partner Alfie with a tragic discovery in their happiness.
The writer of this blog does not watch EastEnders regularly, and certainly commendments must be placed at the feet of Jessie Wallace and Shane Richie, whose perframces as Kat and Alfie truly brought home the pain and grief too many parents feel in the real world. However, what has happened with the addition to the story truly defines what we seem to think a soap opera now is: highly melodramatic unrealistic rubbish. To examine the effects of Sids is one thing; it is a subject that more awareness should be made of. But to then attempt to glamorise it with a "baby swap plot" is both offensive and stupid. Though the writers describe the events as the last straw for Ronnie, the very fact that the actress who plays her is leaving the show, if you believe the media, in protest of the storyline surely justifies the lack of common sense in this move.
A few years ago now, Hollyoaks, known for sometimes hard-hitting issues done well, ran a Sids storyline that concentrated more on the consequences it had on the parents, Tony and Mandy, their combined grief ultimately destroying their marriage, as well as the effects it had overall on the two girls babysitting. Though it can be argued that this is still, in a sense, "glamming up" a hard-hitting storyline, there can be no denial that, compared to what has happened in Albert Square over the last months, that was pittance.
The EastEnders plot is due to finish early at Easter, thanks to a record number of complaints from the public (at the last count: 8,400), and it can be safe to say that, for EastEnders, they have finally reached the bottom of the misery barrel after 25 years.
Over here in the UK it's a very different animal. A soap opera can be warm, funny and more realistic; Coronation Street is a good example of this. When something horrible goes wrong, it's a big event storyline because, usually, as in life, these things just don't normally happen on this show. A lesbian storyline, for example, like the one between Sophie and Sian on this show, takes time to develop, months even. It's a slow burner.
Other soaps are a strange mixture. For glamour and teen issues, see Hollyoaks. For daytime,, easy-going stories, see Doctors. But EastEnders is by far the extreme on the spectrum. Not a day goes by without something miserable happening on this show. That's not necessarily a criticism either: it's just what EastEnders is, what it has been from the outset. Its very first episode started with a death, and, if ever it happens, its very last one surely will too.
But recently, more attention has been placed around this pessimism than usual. A controversial storyline has shaken the country, if perhaps not dividing it, for everyone seems to wonder what the heck the writers on the show are playing at. What should have been a happy event takes place with a double birth - Kat (Jessie Wallace) and Ronnie (Samantha Womack) both giving birth on the same day. But this is EastEnders. They don't understand the meaning of the word "happiness". Ronnie's baby dies tragically due to Sudden Infant Death Syndrome (Sids); in desperation she swaps the babies around, leaving Kat and her partner Alfie with a tragic discovery in their happiness.
The writer of this blog does not watch EastEnders regularly, and certainly commendments must be placed at the feet of Jessie Wallace and Shane Richie, whose perframces as Kat and Alfie truly brought home the pain and grief too many parents feel in the real world. However, what has happened with the addition to the story truly defines what we seem to think a soap opera now is: highly melodramatic unrealistic rubbish. To examine the effects of Sids is one thing; it is a subject that more awareness should be made of. But to then attempt to glamorise it with a "baby swap plot" is both offensive and stupid. Though the writers describe the events as the last straw for Ronnie, the very fact that the actress who plays her is leaving the show, if you believe the media, in protest of the storyline surely justifies the lack of common sense in this move.
A few years ago now, Hollyoaks, known for sometimes hard-hitting issues done well, ran a Sids storyline that concentrated more on the consequences it had on the parents, Tony and Mandy, their combined grief ultimately destroying their marriage, as well as the effects it had overall on the two girls babysitting. Though it can be argued that this is still, in a sense, "glamming up" a hard-hitting storyline, there can be no denial that, compared to what has happened in Albert Square over the last months, that was pittance.
The EastEnders plot is due to finish early at Easter, thanks to a record number of complaints from the public (at the last count: 8,400), and it can be safe to say that, for EastEnders, they have finally reached the bottom of the misery barrel after 25 years.
Tuesday, 18 January 2011
REVIEW - The King's Speech
It's been a week since I went to this film, so here's the review for it!
*** This review may contain spoilers ***
1930s England: Albert, Duke Of York (Colin Firth) has lived with a stutter all his life which makes the sudden intrusion of radio technology into the Royal life a nightmare. His wife, Elizabeth (Helena Bonham Carter), after trying every conventional therapist she can, seeks the assistance of a recommended Australian, Lyle Logan (Geoffrey Rush), whilst bitter conflicts loom both in Europe and in the royal Family itself...
Tom Hooper's excellent film takes a subject matter which many can relate to - simply the annoyance of a speech impediment - and gives us what is essentially a high-brow bromance. In it he is aided spectacularly by a brilliant cast, a witty script and lovely cinematography.
Though Firth is gaining all the awards buzz - and rightly so, for his performance as Bertie is a wonderful example of a hard working actor - one should not step away from the importance of Geoffrey Rush in this film. His failed actor is constantly upbeat and funny, so that when he is made the victim of abuse or class snobbery we genuinely feel for him. The partnership that this creates is both charming and rewarding, and you feel that this is a proper friendship developing.
The secondary characters involved with this partnership are also very well played; in particular, Carter brings a quiet wit to her role of the future Queen Mother. Perhaps the least convincing role is that of Guy Pearce's pretentious Edward, though this is more down to the script forming him as the most 2D role in the film.
When the script works well, though, it crackles. The excellent scenes of speech therapy are both interesting and joyful to watch. Viewers should be advised that in one scene there is an awful lot of bad language which is one of the few laugh-out-loud moments of the film, feeling just right in the mixture; it arrives at the correct time.
The whole point of the film - the actual speech of the film's title - is perhaps the most depressing part of it, yet it seems a triumph, for the new King must tell his people that their country is at war again. We don't need to see what happens during the war, or hear the speeches he mad afterwards - for him this was the greatest point of his life, of his reign. He had fought the demons of his life and was now able to stand up and be counted as someone his people could fight the demons overseas for.
The film is always engaging, interesting and, most importantly, has a good heart with many chuckles. Thoroughly recommended.
8/10
*** This review may contain spoilers ***
1930s England: Albert, Duke Of York (Colin Firth) has lived with a stutter all his life which makes the sudden intrusion of radio technology into the Royal life a nightmare. His wife, Elizabeth (Helena Bonham Carter), after trying every conventional therapist she can, seeks the assistance of a recommended Australian, Lyle Logan (Geoffrey Rush), whilst bitter conflicts loom both in Europe and in the royal Family itself...
Tom Hooper's excellent film takes a subject matter which many can relate to - simply the annoyance of a speech impediment - and gives us what is essentially a high-brow bromance. In it he is aided spectacularly by a brilliant cast, a witty script and lovely cinematography.
Though Firth is gaining all the awards buzz - and rightly so, for his performance as Bertie is a wonderful example of a hard working actor - one should not step away from the importance of Geoffrey Rush in this film. His failed actor is constantly upbeat and funny, so that when he is made the victim of abuse or class snobbery we genuinely feel for him. The partnership that this creates is both charming and rewarding, and you feel that this is a proper friendship developing.
The secondary characters involved with this partnership are also very well played; in particular, Carter brings a quiet wit to her role of the future Queen Mother. Perhaps the least convincing role is that of Guy Pearce's pretentious Edward, though this is more down to the script forming him as the most 2D role in the film.
When the script works well, though, it crackles. The excellent scenes of speech therapy are both interesting and joyful to watch. Viewers should be advised that in one scene there is an awful lot of bad language which is one of the few laugh-out-loud moments of the film, feeling just right in the mixture; it arrives at the correct time.
The whole point of the film - the actual speech of the film's title - is perhaps the most depressing part of it, yet it seems a triumph, for the new King must tell his people that their country is at war again. We don't need to see what happens during the war, or hear the speeches he mad afterwards - for him this was the greatest point of his life, of his reign. He had fought the demons of his life and was now able to stand up and be counted as someone his people could fight the demons overseas for.
The film is always engaging, interesting and, most importantly, has a good heart with many chuckles. Thoroughly recommended.
8/10
Tuesday, 11 January 2011
REVIEW - A Single Man
Coming up on The Culture Section: The review for the much-anticipated The King's Speech. In the mean time, here's a review of Colin Firth's last Ocsar-botherer, A Single Man.
*** This review may contain spoilers ***
1962, America: English professor George (Colin Firth) wakes one morning to the decision that he is going to kill himself at the end of the day; his life seemingly means nothing since the death of his long-term partner Jim (Matthew Goode). He spends the rest of the day taking everything around him in, whilst reliving painful memories of the past...
It is without question that this is the film which Colin Firth SHOULD have won an Oscar for in 2010. His performance virtually carries the movie out of a slightly arty, perhaps pretentious mawkishness and fills it with humanity.
That's not to be so incredibly harsh of the film; it is certainly beautiful to look at, first-time director Tom Ford very aware (perhaps a little too much) of colour and light in his world. In particular, emphasis is placed heavily on clothes. In one scene where George is sitting at a bank when a neighbour's daughter steps forward to speak to him, the camera pans up her body, showing off her blue dress in spectacular fashion.
The script, adapted from a novel by Christopher Isherwood, is perfectly fine up to a point. George is in every single scene, which certainly helps. Lesser characters are not as important as this single man, though there is perhaps a little predictability within some of the scenes, not least the ones featuring Nicholas Hoult as one of George's students. Both endings feel a little predictable too, though you do need to be paying attention to the early stages of the film in order to get it.
The day pans out fairly quickly, which is by no means a bad thing. It would perhaps have been a little more interesting to have seen more of George's teaching of his students. What is refreshing is that, for a film that is about a gay man, there is no struggle for George to be accepted; it is only hinted at about unseen characters - firstly one of his neighbours, secondly the parents of his late partner JIm, who decide to hold the funeral for "family only".
But this is truly Firth's film. Though there is a nice little mini-scene with Julianne Moore as a friend of George's going through her own personal mid-life crisis, her accent superb and flawless, without Firth's quiet desperation the scene would just seem out of place. There is as much humour in his performance as there is sadness. The scene where George finds out about Jim's death in particular stands out as a feat of epic acting skills, a brilliant school for all aspiring actors to watch with unwavering eyes.
Perhaps, ironically, A Single Man is just about that - a single man who can carry an entire story, an entire film on his shoulders with seamless ease.
7/10
Trailer:
*** This review may contain spoilers ***
1962, America: English professor George (Colin Firth) wakes one morning to the decision that he is going to kill himself at the end of the day; his life seemingly means nothing since the death of his long-term partner Jim (Matthew Goode). He spends the rest of the day taking everything around him in, whilst reliving painful memories of the past...
It is without question that this is the film which Colin Firth SHOULD have won an Oscar for in 2010. His performance virtually carries the movie out of a slightly arty, perhaps pretentious mawkishness and fills it with humanity.
That's not to be so incredibly harsh of the film; it is certainly beautiful to look at, first-time director Tom Ford very aware (perhaps a little too much) of colour and light in his world. In particular, emphasis is placed heavily on clothes. In one scene where George is sitting at a bank when a neighbour's daughter steps forward to speak to him, the camera pans up her body, showing off her blue dress in spectacular fashion.
The script, adapted from a novel by Christopher Isherwood, is perfectly fine up to a point. George is in every single scene, which certainly helps. Lesser characters are not as important as this single man, though there is perhaps a little predictability within some of the scenes, not least the ones featuring Nicholas Hoult as one of George's students. Both endings feel a little predictable too, though you do need to be paying attention to the early stages of the film in order to get it.
The day pans out fairly quickly, which is by no means a bad thing. It would perhaps have been a little more interesting to have seen more of George's teaching of his students. What is refreshing is that, for a film that is about a gay man, there is no struggle for George to be accepted; it is only hinted at about unseen characters - firstly one of his neighbours, secondly the parents of his late partner JIm, who decide to hold the funeral for "family only".
But this is truly Firth's film. Though there is a nice little mini-scene with Julianne Moore as a friend of George's going through her own personal mid-life crisis, her accent superb and flawless, without Firth's quiet desperation the scene would just seem out of place. There is as much humour in his performance as there is sadness. The scene where George finds out about Jim's death in particular stands out as a feat of epic acting skills, a brilliant school for all aspiring actors to watch with unwavering eyes.
Perhaps, ironically, A Single Man is just about that - a single man who can carry an entire story, an entire film on his shoulders with seamless ease.
7/10
Trailer:
Saturday, 8 January 2011
REVIEW - TV Of 2011
The small screen has a lot to offer this upcoming year, though as always you could be more excited about old favourites returning compared to brand new series. Doctor Who and Torchwood will be back, as will a brand new series of Sherlock, which was one of the undisputed highlights of 2010. Starting on Monday, Shameless hits Channel 4 again, with the first five episodes being shown every night for the first week. For the reality fixates, too, we have the glorious return of the addictive-yet-I-don't-know-why Dancing On Ice, and the tantalising promise of new judges on Britain's Got Talent.
Three shows that have arrived since the start of the year are two welcome old favourites and one new show; the case in point that the old is better than the new sadly proves fruitful in this instance. Zen, a new three-parter on BBC1, is trying hard to be the Italian version of Wallander. Not everyone is a fan of the Swedish detective, though merit comes from the experienced hands of Kenneth Branagh. Here the title character is played by Rufus Sewell, a man whose previous roles have involved being a bit of a scoundrel and getting the girl, so no surprise when he starts an affair with one of his colleagues, played by the beautiful Caterina Murino (whose last notable appearance was in Casino Royale). But there just seems to be something missing from Zen; it looks good, no doubt, but the plot moves a little too slowly and becomes a tad predictable.
Predictable is the state of Hustle, back last night (Friday) for a seventh season. Anyone who enjoys the show knows the gist: con artists who only con those who deserve to be conned. Last night's opening episode was a cracker; fast, quick plot, with some brilliant guest acting from Anna Chancellor as their bitch model agent of a mark, it also kept you guessing a little as to what was going on towards the end.
Another welcome return was from Primeval. The show was in hiatus after its third season, the three main characters stuck in the very distant past, struggling to survive against dinosaurs. The series itself was in trouble from ITV, and was most likely going to end up being cancelled altogether. But America have come to the rescue, and now we have the first of two shiny new seasons. Again, the plot is always a little predictable, but thankfully some of the darkness of the last season (the main character was killed off in Episode Three then) has been lifted, and an intriguing sub-plot concerning the great actor Anton Lesser is keeping us on our toes, when we're not being thrilled by the chase of man-munching monsters.
Thumbs up then, almost all round. 2011 is shaping up quite nicely, thank you very much.
Three shows that have arrived since the start of the year are two welcome old favourites and one new show; the case in point that the old is better than the new sadly proves fruitful in this instance. Zen, a new three-parter on BBC1, is trying hard to be the Italian version of Wallander. Not everyone is a fan of the Swedish detective, though merit comes from the experienced hands of Kenneth Branagh. Here the title character is played by Rufus Sewell, a man whose previous roles have involved being a bit of a scoundrel and getting the girl, so no surprise when he starts an affair with one of his colleagues, played by the beautiful Caterina Murino (whose last notable appearance was in Casino Royale). But there just seems to be something missing from Zen; it looks good, no doubt, but the plot moves a little too slowly and becomes a tad predictable.
Predictable is the state of Hustle, back last night (Friday) for a seventh season. Anyone who enjoys the show knows the gist: con artists who only con those who deserve to be conned. Last night's opening episode was a cracker; fast, quick plot, with some brilliant guest acting from Anna Chancellor as their bitch model agent of a mark, it also kept you guessing a little as to what was going on towards the end.
Another welcome return was from Primeval. The show was in hiatus after its third season, the three main characters stuck in the very distant past, struggling to survive against dinosaurs. The series itself was in trouble from ITV, and was most likely going to end up being cancelled altogether. But America have come to the rescue, and now we have the first of two shiny new seasons. Again, the plot is always a little predictable, but thankfully some of the darkness of the last season (the main character was killed off in Episode Three then) has been lifted, and an intriguing sub-plot concerning the great actor Anton Lesser is keeping us on our toes, when we're not being thrilled by the chase of man-munching monsters.
Thumbs up then, almost all round. 2011 is shaping up quite nicely, thank you very much.
Friday, 7 January 2011
BBC Sound Of 2011
The BBC have just announced the winner of their annual poll among the cream of music journalists and writers, the Sound Of.... Last year this was won by Ellie Goulding, whose album Lights was one of the best out there. The winner this year, Jessie J, though another female singer/songwriter couldn't be more different.
Her debut single, "Do It Like A Dude" ironically starts with the line: "Stomp, stomp, I've arrived", and she definitely announces her presence to the rest of the world. Her sound is urban, gritty, with a lot of electronic wizardry helping to add emphasis on her rather explicit lyrics. Slightly surprising words to come from a girl who write "Party In The USA" for Miley Cyrus. Seriously. She also came out of the Brit School and performed on the West End when she was 11 in Andrew Lloyd Webber's hit-and-miss Whistle Down The Wind.
The video for the single adds even more emphasis to the strength of the song. Be warned that this is the Explicit version.
This is a defiant woman, slightly scary at times, making her stand. She wears a strange black kind of lipstick, a variety of torn clothing; she looks dominating, scornfully at the men in the video. The fact that she has two girls kissing in it also probably helps to push her message across: this is Girl power for the 21st century. Stuff you, Spice Girls.
Trouble is, shocking and provocative as the song is, there doesn't seem to be a lot of difference between her and other female artists emerging out of the urban scene. Think of Katy B and her fantastic track, "Katy On A Mission", for example. If you listen to the acoustic version of "Do It Like A Dude", Jessie's voice seems more refined, slightly more US Urban, chuckling mischievously at times. You get the full range of her vocal chords too; towards the end she sounds powerful, perhaps even more so than in the studio version.
Another song by her you can find on YouTube is "Price Tag".
Another acoustic, it sounds like something you could hear Fergie or even Beyonce at a stretch performing. It sounds nice, but you can see why the studio released "Do It Like A Dude" first in the age of GaGa. Currently it's just broken the Top 10. I doubt it's going to hit the top spot by Sunday, but she is sure to be around with us for a few years.
Her debut single, "Do It Like A Dude" ironically starts with the line: "Stomp, stomp, I've arrived", and she definitely announces her presence to the rest of the world. Her sound is urban, gritty, with a lot of electronic wizardry helping to add emphasis on her rather explicit lyrics. Slightly surprising words to come from a girl who write "Party In The USA" for Miley Cyrus. Seriously. She also came out of the Brit School and performed on the West End when she was 11 in Andrew Lloyd Webber's hit-and-miss Whistle Down The Wind.
The video for the single adds even more emphasis to the strength of the song. Be warned that this is the Explicit version.
This is a defiant woman, slightly scary at times, making her stand. She wears a strange black kind of lipstick, a variety of torn clothing; she looks dominating, scornfully at the men in the video. The fact that she has two girls kissing in it also probably helps to push her message across: this is Girl power for the 21st century. Stuff you, Spice Girls.
Trouble is, shocking and provocative as the song is, there doesn't seem to be a lot of difference between her and other female artists emerging out of the urban scene. Think of Katy B and her fantastic track, "Katy On A Mission", for example. If you listen to the acoustic version of "Do It Like A Dude", Jessie's voice seems more refined, slightly more US Urban, chuckling mischievously at times. You get the full range of her vocal chords too; towards the end she sounds powerful, perhaps even more so than in the studio version.
Another song by her you can find on YouTube is "Price Tag".
Another acoustic, it sounds like something you could hear Fergie or even Beyonce at a stretch performing. It sounds nice, but you can see why the studio released "Do It Like A Dude" first in the age of GaGa. Currently it's just broken the Top 10. I doubt it's going to hit the top spot by Sunday, but she is sure to be around with us for a few years.
Sunday, 2 January 2011
REVIEW - "Forgetting Sarah Marshall"
And so the first film that I did watch in 2011 was a film from 2008. Superb. Still, it all counts, don't it? Here's my review for Forgetting Sarah Marshall:
*** This review may contain spoilers ***
When actress Sarah Marshall (Kristen Bell) dumps her long-term boyfriend Peter (Jason Segal), his world falls apart. Stuck in a horrible depression, he decides to go on vacation to Hawaii; unfortunately for him, Sarah also happens to be there with her new boyfriend, world famous rocker Aldous Snow (Russell Brand)...
After the surprisingly charming Knocked Up and the surprisingly gross-out Superbad, Forgetting Sarah Marshall is a nice mixture of the two for the Judd Apatow crowd. It has a good, solid script, though the tendency for improvisation does become a little too regular at times. It also looks beautiful, a perfect picture postcard for Hawaii.
If you have ever been dumped you can probably sympathise with Peter, played convincingly for the most part by Segal. However, at times the reliance on him being a bit of a cry baby does damage the character a little bit. What's nice, however, despite the initial finger of blame being pointed solely at Kristen Bell's Sarah, is that Peter too was at fault for the problems in the relationship. This makes the situation a lot more 3D and realistic.
The two stars of the show are undoubtedly Mila Kunis as Peter's new love interest, Rachel, and Brand as Snow. While Kunis underplays and conveys the character that she is needed to be, Brand is a force unleashed, though thankfully he isn't let too far off the lead. His Snow is a wonderfully stereotypical and, in the end, monstrously pig-headed rocker; in a sense, Brand is really playing himself. It was always going to be a success.
There is good supporting work from Jonah Hill and Paul Rudd as two dysfunctional hotel employees, though they do become a little annoying after a time. Bill Hader is much more successful as Peter's friend.
Towards the end of the film the story attempts to go into clichés, and though it ends on a really big one, the blow is softened by the previous five minutes; the puppet musical of Dracula is laugh-out-loud funny, entirely reminiscent of the wonderful Avenue Q in its brilliance and its audacity.
At times one could argue that the film doesn't really know which audience it's aiming for: frat boy or genuine rom-com lover? It is however a very decent effort, and should certainly not be forgotten in a hurry. We are waiting to hear about the movie rights to the Dracula Puppet Musical.
7/10
*** This review may contain spoilers ***
When actress Sarah Marshall (Kristen Bell) dumps her long-term boyfriend Peter (Jason Segal), his world falls apart. Stuck in a horrible depression, he decides to go on vacation to Hawaii; unfortunately for him, Sarah also happens to be there with her new boyfriend, world famous rocker Aldous Snow (Russell Brand)...
After the surprisingly charming Knocked Up and the surprisingly gross-out Superbad, Forgetting Sarah Marshall is a nice mixture of the two for the Judd Apatow crowd. It has a good, solid script, though the tendency for improvisation does become a little too regular at times. It also looks beautiful, a perfect picture postcard for Hawaii.
If you have ever been dumped you can probably sympathise with Peter, played convincingly for the most part by Segal. However, at times the reliance on him being a bit of a cry baby does damage the character a little bit. What's nice, however, despite the initial finger of blame being pointed solely at Kristen Bell's Sarah, is that Peter too was at fault for the problems in the relationship. This makes the situation a lot more 3D and realistic.
The two stars of the show are undoubtedly Mila Kunis as Peter's new love interest, Rachel, and Brand as Snow. While Kunis underplays and conveys the character that she is needed to be, Brand is a force unleashed, though thankfully he isn't let too far off the lead. His Snow is a wonderfully stereotypical and, in the end, monstrously pig-headed rocker; in a sense, Brand is really playing himself. It was always going to be a success.
There is good supporting work from Jonah Hill and Paul Rudd as two dysfunctional hotel employees, though they do become a little annoying after a time. Bill Hader is much more successful as Peter's friend.
Towards the end of the film the story attempts to go into clichés, and though it ends on a really big one, the blow is softened by the previous five minutes; the puppet musical of Dracula is laugh-out-loud funny, entirely reminiscent of the wonderful Avenue Q in its brilliance and its audacity.
At times one could argue that the film doesn't really know which audience it's aiming for: frat boy or genuine rom-com lover? It is however a very decent effort, and should certainly not be forgotten in a hurry. We are waiting to hear about the movie rights to the Dracula Puppet Musical.
7/10
Saturday, 1 January 2011
The Films Of 2010
Happy New Year to anyone who reads this blog, which, taking into account the act that this is only the third entry, is most likely an incredibly small amount.
As I looked forward, it's probably only natural that I look back too; so here, as a slight companion piece to me last entry, are the films that rocked me (and bored me) last year. They don't necessarily have to have been released last year; I just had to have watched them for the first time.
First, my Top Films of 2010:
As I looked forward, it's probably only natural that I look back too; so here, as a slight companion piece to me last entry, are the films that rocked me (and bored me) last year. They don't necessarily have to have been released last year; I just had to have watched them for the first time.
First, my Top Films of 2010:
- Toy Story 3 ("certainly a brilliant film...had me choking up and blubbering like a baby")
- Inception ("One of the best films you will see...great stuff")
- There Will Be Blood (Finally saw this worthy award winning turn by Daniel Day-Lewis)
- The Bride Of Frankenstein (Probably the greatest horror film ever made)
- The Assassination Of Jesse James By The Coward Robert Ford ("The film speaks volumes for us today")
- Zombieland (Very funny stuff with some nice surprises)
- Star Trek (A great sci-fi film, not just for Trekkies)
- Michael Clayton ("A perfectly fine intelligent picture")
- Watchmen (A very successful attempt at adapting the epic graphic novel)
- Jennifer's Body (Fun, sexy and gory second film from the pen of Diablo Cody)
And now, the worst films I saw last year:
- Lust For A Vampire (Awful, camp lesbian vampire tosh)
- Under Siege 2: Dark Territory (Awful sequel to one of Steven Segal's few good films)
- Transformers: Revenge Of The Fallen (Overblown and boring)
- The Book Of Eli ("A lot of people will leave the film very disappointed")
- The Boat That Rocked ("Too long and leaves too many loose ends unresolved")
- Burn After Reading (Doesn't hit the right notes like a Coen Brothers' film should)
Those last 4 films were all scored a 6 on my voting, so I was obviously very lenient last year on that front! Must be crueler, harsher. Probably.
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