Local Theatre Review: Steptoe and Son at the West End Playhouse

Down below is my review of Matt Panesh and David Findlay's production of Steptoe and Son. It's on tonight and tomorrow, so if you are (or will be) in Morecambe, I recommend you go watch it :)

https://www.lancasterguardian.co.uk/arts-and-culture/theatre-and-stage/review-steptoe-and-son-at-morecambes-west-end-playhouse-is-nostalgia-for-new-audiences-3575212#

The Gentlemen (2019) WITH SPOILERS FROM THE START

I can't believe The Gentlemen came out in the UK a year ago today. It seems like a couple of years ago at least, but then, of course, 2020 has redefined 'relative concept' when it comes to time... I've only just got to watching it this week, despite being excited for it when it was coming out.

Though I was looking forward to it, I ended up feeling disappointed in the end at how 'on rails' it is, how procedural (like watching a feature-length Poirot, if Poirot said 'cunt' every fifteen minutes and loved to wave a gun around like Scarface). And that's a good point to discuss; am I tired of procedurality generally, because of detective stories and the like, or did this film feel unconvincing in and of itself? I think it's a bit of both. Certainly the reporter (Fletcher, played by Hugh Grant) here is interesting. He seems to know it all, but the way it is revealed at the end that he was being watched all the time was very 'told not shown' (well, it was both, because it used one of those narrated montages, where we are shown and told, but my point being that it's clunky and on the nose either way), blunt and uninspired. Yeah, a let down really, and not even particularly shocking... And then the loose ends that are tied up in the final moments feel like a very quick tick tick tick on a clipboard - very charmless, perfunctory, and menial, really.

I wasn't overly impressed by the meta-ness of it, either. Fletcher's shtick is revealing the information he knows via a film script that he has written about real events. The idea is that it not only serves the audience as a device for telling the story, but also helps the character, as it's piece of evidence he can use to threaten his contemporaries, and 'shop then in' should he not get the money he wants. I think I'm just bein a stick in the mud, but it felt lazy to me - although some people say that about the narration in American Beauty, y'know, it's all opinions, man. I have to admit it gave good opportunities for comedy (i.e. when Fletcher has to lip-read and translate a tense tête-à-tête between the Machiavellian crime lord Matthew, and ruthlessly ambitious gangster Dry Eye, which involves insertions of ridiculous words into the conversation). Also it highlights a lot of Fletcher's character - someone who thinks they are in control of proceedings, whereas proceedings are really controlling him - so it certainly has some merit.

Another big plot point is Michael (essentially the focal character of the whole film, as the owner of the criminal empire that everyone covets and vies for) being killed within the first five minutes of the film. I was like 'okay, that's been done before, but I'm still intrigued enough to find out the story behind the murder'. Later on, however, we find out that he wasn't really killed; his assassin was shot nearby, and it's the intruder's blood that we see splatter onto Michael, which I mistakenly took for his own, based on the initial camera shot. That was a pretty good twist, and I say this in mind with the characters and how I rooted for them/didn't root for them. I was rooting for Michael. It was good to see him back in the land of the living, as it were, and I don't remember feeling so effortlessly convinced by characters for a long time.

With respect to the characters as a whole, the setups and payoffs were all pretty much spot on. They're all criminals of some nature or other, from drug use to murder to international substance dealing. Apart from a couple of goons, however, the deaths only happen to the insatiably greedy, or one maguffin character (who we don't warm to anyway because of his wise-cracks in a tense situation (not that that means I'm 'happy' he died. His death was an accident, tho, so in terms of 'pay-off' the usual emotional transaction is satisfied. Only 'bad' people should be killed in these stories, unless we are dealing with anti-heroes or whatever...)). Then there are some people who have wrought havoc, and we could wish them comeuppance (i.e. the Toddlers, a group of tracksuit-clad gangsters with a penchant for multimedia stardom), but they are acting in mistaken knowledge that they are helping their friends/ colleagues, so instead they are tied up at the end (metaphorically speaking!) in non-violent ways, which again satisfies the usual 'western' ideas of narrative storytelling. The main 'villain' of the piece, Fletcher, who is a blackmailer, does not quite get away with his greed. He is not an evil person, tho. He is creepy, sure, and disrespectful, but clever, panacheful, and 'a real character', and we can't help but have an admiration for him. In that sense, it is entirely fitting that his 'comeuppance' is left open. Ray (who is Michael's bodyguard/fixer/etc) tracks him down and has him locked in the passenger's seat of a taxi - and that's when the credits roll. We can imagine what we like to happen to him, but not putting a death/torture scene in for his character feels appropriate, because, as I say, he's not 'bad' enough to warrant that. My thinking is that his behaviour would probably warrant a faked death, i.e. Ray would go back to Michael and say 'he's gone', and what he actually did was to give him a small amount of money, tell him to get out the country, and never be heard from again. In fact, when he is proprosing his true-to-life screenplay to one party, Fletcher does talk about leaving an open ending to mamintain the possibility of a sequel (ever the avarist!). In this sense, maybe my guess could be right, because Fletcher could easily come back into the picture later on, and would have leverage on Ray because he went against his boss' wishes, and therefore could enact narrative chaos again. Anyways, that's all speculation, and my main point is just that the tone of the film never slides into grauitous violence, there are reasons for the conflicts, and that just feels satisfying overall.

So some of the film I wasn't impressed with structurally, and as subject matter, we know it's nothing fresh from Ritchie. In that sense I wanted to give it three stars (out of five). However, it was a decent two hours' worth of entertainment, very little flab in the action/dialogue, and I appreciated a good few characterful touches to stop exposition fatigue. I felt so intrigued by the plot, so on-side with the characters, that it wouldn't feel right to score it so averagely. Can I beg you for a half? Three and a half stars, if I may be so weasley as to resort to that, seems about right to me :) It's for sure one you should watch if you're a fan of the genre, or just fancy some entertainment that's not suitable for kids.

Thanks for reading, and I genuinely hope that 2021 is a better year for everyone. Let's help get Covid on the run, use our deepened appreciation of life to help those less fortunate than ourselves, and break some of the cycles that lead to people becoming like characters in a Guy Ritchie film in real life

M

Bong Joon Ho's 'Parasite' [SPOILERS ABOUND]

Last night I saw Bong Joon Ho's Parasite (or Gisaengchung, as I'm reliably informed it is in Korean). We all know it's done well in the BAFTAs, Oscars, and whatever else... I'd heard some people saying it was amazing, some people saying it was overhyped, but I went along with very realistic expectations (unusual for me...). I was just happy to go see a film, frankly, and, although I'd seen a few clips, I was pretty clean of influence, and could just take everything for what it was. I enjoyed it very much, and thought that it was a fairly potent exploration of class issues, about as political as you can get while still getting mainstream release. It was such a mix of elements, my review is just going to be a cascade of impressions, but hey... And watch out for those spoilers - they're sprinkled throughout these
musings.

There was lots of humour. Some of it slapstick, some of it farcical, some of it dark, some of it satirical - so in a couple of parts I laughed out loud, other bits I was sadlyamused because a mirror was held up to the absurdity of human life (I completely see it as universal, and relatable, although some people I've spoken to reckon it's 'very South Korean'), and sometimes I smiled because of the film creativity. Some bits were so on the nose, I thought 'are they really doing that, like this' - but I'm not saying it was bad writing - for me it often created a dream-like quality, hyper-real oddness. Or something... I suppose a good example of what I mean is one of the pivotal scenes where Kim Ki-taek (our protagonist family's head) stabs Mr Park (the film's rich family man and owner of the house that the Kims infiltrate) because he compains of 'that smell' (the smell of lower class people) again - it's too much, but, in that instance at least, it's a release of the tensions that have been building up.

One thing I really liked (which I've noticed in most of the 'Asian literature' (I'm not saying there's an all-encompassing idea of what that is, I just mean the literature from Asia that I've read. Which isn't masses, admittedly) that I've read) is the way that there were points of repetition, references to certain 'essences', which served as exposition, story beats (sort of like act markers), thematic reinforcement... maybe other things, too. These act as structural points - like bones - that the muscles and skin hang on, they give it a proper roundedness, but it didn't feel like a standard 'three act' film like I'm used to seeing. One of the most important repetitions was 'the smell' - many references are made to the smell of the Kim family, a perceptible but tantalisingly indefinable malodorousness that comes from the 'semi-bunker' that they live in, which, like public transport use, indicates that they are of lower class than the Parks. As I've just mentioned, the smell reference culminates in a narrative flash-point, which to me felt satisfying, and led to a moment of character clarity, where they realise what's important in life (as I feel little things can do in life. Not all epiphanies come from god, they come from the turning over of small stones).
There's a slight fixation on peaches. I love this in many ways; fruit, forbidden fruit, fresh food as luxury, symbols of wealth, Adam and Eve's apple, the idea that the housekeeper Moon-Gwang becomes ill because of fresh fruit is kind of an irony - it should be a healthy aspiration, but she's allergic - sweet supple sex... It's like a meditation, a haiku, boiling things down to a pregnant image...
I also like the use of what's known as a 'scholar stone' that is introduced by an antagonist in the beginning (this does act as a pretty blatant narrative arc marker), which is said to bring material wealth (no possibility of defining 'wealth' as 'love' or 'family' - this is material wealth only). It features almost a little clunkily (there's the line where Ki-woo is asked why he's carrying the stone around with him, and he says, "It's clinging to me," which is an obvious way of showing how greed messes us up. But I liked how it features in the false ending - he puts the stone in a river, and is part of a happy scene, the implication being that he has shared the wealth, 'planted a tree, the shade of which he'll never feel' - there was something very feng shui about that), but it's a visual media, after all, and I thought it was reasonable overall. Also it's notable for its playful quality, the flirting with the idea of the supernatural, as if the rock's really magical.
Last thing I'll mention in this vein is daddy Park's fixation on 'crossing the line'. I love this as an element of character exposition and managing audience expectations. Reminds me of mob characters - like Johnny Caspar - who are obsessed with appearing/behaving a certain way, and (like Ki-taek says at the end about plans made are plans doomed), only find it their undoing. So Park's faith in people's respect for 'the line' (i.e. not going too far in any given situation) sets him up to be disappointed, because inevitably people let him down - indeed, the more faith you have, the more you bring betrayal on (?) (although, actually his driver Yoon never does cross the line, it is the Kim family who are aware, through their willful lying, of where the lines lie, and are in that sense constantly operating beyond them, but from Park's point of view,  Ki-taek, like a dog who breaks his lead, shoots across the line in dramatic fashion). These are classic ingredients in painting his picture, but Joon Ho handles them so well, and it felt refreshing to me.

There's sort-of horror elements I really enjoyed, too; all the sneaking around, the darkness, the bloody heads... Again there's a sort of flirting with the supernatural, when the young 'prince' of the family - Da-song - is worried about seeing another ghost, and we are shown a recreation of the haunting, as if it was a real event. It's a pleasing way of examining what makes us human, because you see people how they are when they're relaxed, and when they're in stressful situations.

Then, in the sense of shooting, there were a lot of stairs/levels shots. Some of the pre-watch media I'd consumed had said something about the importance of 'levels' in Parasite for its class commentary. I tried to pick up on some discernible instances of 'this is this, that subverts that', but I was too busy concentrating on the thing as a whole for that. Obviously you have a man (Geun-se) hidden in a bunker, institutionalised to the point of not wanting to leave his restrictive environment - because he's comfortable - despite the fact that he has an awfully menial and repetitive task to do (switching lights on and off for the family above, who he can't even see, only hear). He believes is an adequate way of expressing himself, but in reality the target of his reverence is unaware of his existence. This reminded me of our zero-hours culture in a meaningful way, but anyway, my point is that all uber-wealth and top class levels are always built on the crippled backs of others (and I'm not talking about fictional 'utopias'. I look at Lancaster - a city nearby to where I live - which, sure, acknowledges its part in the triangular trade, but still the town hall stands, and still the slaves' lives that were used to make it were wasted...

The ending was just at the border of credibility, for me. It was always going to be a hard narrative to end satisfactorily, because of how the strands all screw downwards, but it just managed to make it feel natural to itself. There is one ending that is magic, everything turns out well without any explanation - but this turns out to be a false ending, and the happy ending is (only potentially) yet to happen. So our hope that things can get better are deferred and we realise that the message is true to life once more - things are bleak, and we're going to have to work and change if we want that to be different. In this sense, one could go on at (further) length examining allegories within the film (the 'prince' thing I alluded to earlier, the strange invocation of war general's tactics in the setting out of garden furniture...), but that's it for me. Joon Ho said he wanted people to talk over the ideas they had while watching his film, and he's certainly provoked that reaction with me and the friends I saw Parasite with.

In fact, as we left the cinema, we chatted into the night. Storm Dennis was still pelting the streets, and big puddles were formed everywhere. People would have been worried about the river flooding again. As I walked to my friend's car, we passed a homeless person in the doorway of a greetings card shop. They were wrapped up in a brown sleeping bag, facing away from the street. Our talk of the film momentarily hushed. We were being careful not to wake the sleeper, or we were ashamed to be discussing the artistic merits of a film about class disparity, going back to our warm houses while this poor fucker had nothing except a sleeping bag and a doorway. And who knows what the rest of the night brought them. The rest of life...

And then I was home. I switched on the lights, locked the doors, took my big coat off, poured a drink, sat down on a comfy sofa, turned on my laptop, and started to write this.

Here is a link to the homeless charity Shelter - please donate if you can: https://england.shelter.org.uk/donate?reserved_appeal_code=20190401-DF-10&gclid=EAIaIQobChMIyKaM2P7e5wIVSrDtCh1sVQG-EAAYASAAEgLEtPD_BwE&gclsrc=aw.ds 

1917: Landschap Verdriet [SPOILERS ALERT]

It's been a couple of weeks since I saw Sam Mendes' 1917 at the local flicks, but I'd still like to say a few words about it. It is one of the most powerful pieces of cinema, or even any kind of art, that I've seen. I came out of the cinema feeling sick, I found it that intense.

*I'll just take this moment to say 'watch out!' as there are spoilers from hereon out.*

I went in to the viewing with low expectations, thinking I was going to get a 'Saving Private Ryan, but set in World War One, full of teary-eyed Brexit-embrazened nationalistic sentiment', but I was so wrong. Whereas Saving Private Ryan is a story that follows a group of soldiers, each with distinct roles, as they cross through France in search of one man, punctuated with then state-of-the-art blood and pyrotechnic effects (trying to create a sensational viewing experience that conveyed the horror of war), 1917 is focussed, really, on one person's journey to deliver a message which will save many peoples' lives. There aren't the same group dynamics or character explorations. In that sense, 1917 is a bit more pared down, more sharply focussed. And as for the 'sensational'; yes, there is also gore, but the truly shocking and enduring images were of, for example, the way the bodies of soldiers and horses were decomposing into the sloppy mud and clay of the trenches, conveying a deep sense of how the wider war was creating landschap verdriet ('landscape grief'). I know it's a cliché to say that the film's location is a character in itself, but in this case, it is true that the surroundings did play a big part, creating calm or tension by itself.

I feel that SPR was more trying to be accurate and factual, filming along a route that real soldiers may have taken, whereas 1917 shows, yes, the horrors wrought in war, but uses the scenes more artfully than authentically, going from those sickeningly grim trenches sluiced with the dead, to farmhouse, to town, to river, to wood, to different trench systems - each chosen more for their emotional weight than historical accuracy. The journey is, if anything, more potent for that. Its other techniques (lighting in particular, especially during the town scene where pallid flickering flares punctuate the midnight blackness) that foster the sense of unending horror, as opposed to the action (firefights, mainly) in SPR.

One thought I had about the 'human war' facet of Mendes' film was how, at the beginning of the film we see dead bodies being reclaimed by the earth, those promising specimens of manhood reduced to barbed wire-based memento mori baubles. Indeed, our main protagonist Schofield is buried in rubble quite early on, but rescued by his pal, Blake. There seems to be a sense of humans and nature being inseparable. They are the killers and the killed, stuck in an inhuman (depending on how you define 'human', I guess...) process. Shortly after escaping the trenches, Scho has to move through a bombed-out town, lit only by the intermittent release of flares, and inconsistent flames. The town doesn't claim him like the rubble did, but it surrounds him closely, jaggedly looming. After an encounter with German soldiers, he runs away and jumps into a river rapid, which made me think there was an element of allegory there. The obvious point is that he's been baptised, and, especially because he threw his rifle away in his haste to evade the enemy, his focus changes from taking life to saving life. Maybe he's Jesus? Then, at the end, when Schofield's finally within reach of stopping this big battle going ahead, the soldiers' dark khaki uniforms stand out like print on a page against the trenches of loose, chalky stone, whiter than ashes, maybe suggesting they've regained their distinct humanity? I know that's a half-baked idea, but it's all I got...

Obviously a lot had been said in the media of Mendes' 'one-shot' look, and his collaboration with Roger Deakins who helped to achieve this. I think this absolutely contributes to the intensity of the film, and why I felt so viscerally affected by it afterwards. I don't want this to sound like a trite comparison, but it reminded me of playing one of my favourite ever games, DOOM. That is a first-person shooter (i.e. you look through the same eyes as the protagonist), and it is renowned not just for its blood 'n' guts, but also its ingenuity in level design. I am going somewhere with this, honestly... Imagine being completely alone in strange worlds, and every action you take leads inexorably to the next - for example, one of DOOM's fave moves is, upon picking up a key, a wall behind you that you thought was solid opening up to reveal monsters. At first, the sound shocks you, and then you start taking damage. You have to be sharp, turn around, and defend yourself - and it is this way in 1917. Especially in the town scene. That phosphorous hanging in the air provides this moment of sickly beauty, and for a moment we can breathe, but we have to move on, and within seconds, shots are raining down, and where is there to run? The sense, in both examples, is 'there is no turning back'. We can't in 1917 because the message needs to be delivered before it's too late. We can't in DOOM, because we simply want our nightmare to end, to find that elusive safety. 1917 really was a great vision, and superbly realised. I know it could never come too close to the real living grief that war is, but I was almost constantly disgusted - that this is what countries and their governments do to humans, put them through this hell that is completely made up by 'others'. Where is there to run? There is no safety from human nature, which, it seems, will always find conflict and inhuman cruelty. And Brexit.

Right. Ramble nearly over. I think I'd give 1917 four stars. It's so challenging and well-executed that I want to give it five, but I think some of the artistic contrivances (with respect to visuals, the inaccuracy of German soldiers' shooting that would cause even James Bond henchpeople to raise an eyebrow, and, y'know, clip sizes in guns (when will film-makers learn?), for example) took me out of things a bit. As I've said in other reviews, I look at things with such an unfairly keen eye sometimes, but, yeah, I think if the film could have been less of a 'gallery', it would have resonated that little bit more, but that's going to be near impossible to do, But hey, I considered five stars, so it's not like it's far off. Praise due to everyone who worked on it, and a million awards.

Since 1917, I've been to see Bad Boys for Life. Was alright.

A Right Ol' Catch-Up

It's been that long since I posted anything, that a lot of you - especially my enemies at home and abroad - may be thinking/hoping that I've died. Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I've not. I'm still very much here, and still kicking up stinks.
   I've been very busy with work, family matters, and self-abuse. In-between this trio of fantastic pursuits (especially fantastic for the 18-30 demographic, according to Fantastic Pursuits for People Aged Eighteen to Thirty Weekly), I have been lucky enough to do some illuminating things what I enjoy. The main thing what I've enjoyed is the third Morecambe Fringe Festival, which ran from the 4th July to the 20th, and already seems like it was months ago... I managed to see four shows, and the quality was high, as always.
   The first one I saw was my good pal Jim Lupton, and June Metcalfe, who are part of the 'West End Players'. I'm so happy for Jim, who expanded on his work at the last 'Scratch Festival' in Morecambe - a series of spoken word pieces. He'd put so much effort in to remember lots of material, and one of his newest characters - the Cooler King - involved a lot of dramatic acting, which he really sold. He made us laugh, cogitate, and cry, with his tales and poetry centring on the theme of solitude. I can't wait to see what he gets up to next. June was fantastic, also, performing some of Alan Bennett's 'Talking Heads' monologues with real flair. I was genuinely laughing out loud, and, as a comedy snob, that's an achievement in itself.
   The next one was Dean Tsang, who is a rising star and a half. He's an experimental poet who used a variety of forms and voices to explore the theme of 'awkward questions'. He looked at some genuinely touching personal issues in his work, which I thought was very generous, along with more universal things, and yet there was lots of humorous wit, too, so as an audience member, I felt my emotional muscles were getting a good workout. In the context of the local scene as I know it, it's even more amazing that there's such a bright, innovative, and mature talent. My abiding memory is of one poem where he basically performed multivocally, layering different sentences and sounds over each other (well, that was the effect, at least), a very impressive facet of his performative skill. I was even luckier to get to speak to him afterwards, and chat about his work.
   Then I saw Rowan Padmore, whose show was about "bereavement, loss and loneliness in Morecambe." It was a powerful show, and, honestly, I felt depressed afterwards. Not that it was one-dimensional at all - there were laughs aplenty - but the sense of loss was quite relentless and stuck with me afterwards. My imagination was in overdrive - perhaps aided slightly by being set in my home town - with the rich characters, and the driving through-narrative that tied the performance poetry together, which all speaks to Padmore's talent as a writer.
   Lastly, I saw the last show - Laura Monmoth's 'Trans Vision Scamp'. I don't know if I've ever mentioned the fact that I'm a comedy snob before, but Laura broke through all of my silly hubris, and I was crying with laughter at points. Being sat at the front, I was picked on a couple of times, but it felt warm, which is key - as Mr Rickles will tell you. I'm not sure what else to say! I don't want to ruin any gags - especially not the multimedia ones - in case you go see her (which you should, given half the chance), but just know that it gets five hilarity stars out of five from me.
   I got, and took, the chance to review Dean and Rowan for the Lancashire Evening Post. It was an honour to contribute, alongside a number of other volunteers, and be published with what I'd normally enjoy writing during the Fringe anyway. I think this was part of the reason I didn't review them on Blogtastic before now, as I had used up my reflective impetus somewhat. I'm not sure if I'm able to reproduce the reviews here, but I'm going to assume so, until such time as I am told otherwise :)
   More recently (three days ago, in fact), I was lucky enough to take part in doing a bit of setting up the Make My Day festival that the Exchange Creative Community organises and executes annually. I was working through the festival itself, so couldn't attend, but it was lovely meeting up with the other volunteers, having a laugh, getting stuck in and helping out, y'know. With the way my life's going at the mo, it felt like a holiday, and was most replenishing, even though I was knackered afterwards haha. One lovely memory from the day of the festival itself; from my window at work, I saw a family walking down the prom - a parental couple and two children - and the dad was faithfully clutching a pair of wooden dogs that they had crafted at the festival, and I knew that they'd had a lovely day together, with memories that'll last a long time. Look out for it next year, and make sure to keep up with what's happening through their mailing list, or Facebook, or whatever the hell your preference is.
   I was going to talk about other things, such as what I've been reading lately, how the writing's going, and whether I've finally set a date for the wedding, but my editor's giving me a look, like, "Oh god, he's at it again... If you have to go on another interminable solipsistic ramble, at least break it up and put it in another post. You do this all the time, writing all these long, drawn-out pieces that, y'know, might be excusable if they were only on a decent topic, or, hey, just written in a fresh, exciting way, like, had an engaging tone. But no. It's like trying to eat your way through so much sawdust - bland, nutritionless, hard work. Could you imagine what he's like outside of work? I bet it's 'me me me'. All. The. Flipping. Time. We should fire this guy. Seriously! I know he's been sneaking out with office supplies. I'm not just talking about a pen here, and a pen there... I caught him last week trying to load one of our photocopiers into his mate's van. He tried to shrug it off with a joke, but that was as pathetic as his blogging: unfunny, poorly-structured, and leaving me questioning why I bother. And would it kill him to put even just a penny into our monthly charity nominations box? How can you not want to help puppy amputees? I won't even go into the whole rant he went on when I questioned him about it, 'charity begins at home, we need to stop giving money to foreigners and take back control'... How he ever landed head writer at Blogtastic, I'll never know..." so I suppose, I'll sign off for now.

Peace, love, and light,

Martin



From The Lancashire Evening Post.

From The Lancashire Evening Post, also.

Epstein and Friedman's Howl (2010)

'Just to be clear', I'm talking about the film, not the poetry.

Was it film-like enough for me? Probably not. It seemed too close to biographical documentary (these are the things that happened, in this order). I felt like I was learning things, not feeling things. Part of this lack of 'depth' comes in the court scenes - there's no jeopardy or tension. It's not just that it's based on real life and you already know he got off the charges, it's the fact that you don't get a sense that losing the court case is that big a deal. Its other main problem is that Ginsberg doesn't even appear in the courtroom (I thought he appeared as a witness in real life, but I guess not...), and the problem there is that he is the 'main character' in the film, so to not have him there while the main plot pivot goes on, i.e. whether Ferlinghetti as publisher is indicted under the American obscenity law, means, as the audience, that it's hard to care.

The animations seem very crucial too, because the film has relied so heavily on having James Franco, as Ginsberg, read out poems. I guess, in typical modern patronising style, the makers thought 'the audience will find a poet performing too boring - let's ramp up the visual excitement with a cartoon'. That's not the way it should be, it's gratuitous and, for me, seems desperate. There's another reason I'm not sure about these 'poetic visualisations', and that's because people should have their own images conjured up in their personal heads when they read/are read the poem. To provide them with the particular film artists' version of Ginsberg's words could have a limiting effect on the imagination and potentially the reception of the poem in general. If we have to have something other than James Franco reading on screen (and why not, he's a handsome guy ain't he?) I'd've preferred some Scorsese-style shots of Manhattan buildings etc, just so you get a sense of the environment Ginsberg wrote about, but again this may be distracting, I don't know... Maybe just display the words "Close your eyes while the poem is being read," let the viewers do the rest.

I found the interview stuff interesting, sure. There were some bits of poetics that I found interesting, but this just leads right back to the 'documentariness' or, at least, non-filmicness of Howl. It struck me as stilted clip, followed by clip, followed by clip. No smooth 'story', just talking and cartoons. I don't really know what the answer would be to make a better film. Make it more about Ferlinghetti maybe? Or make it about Ginsberg around that time, but not concentrating so much on the trial... I wouldn't recommend it very highly, but if you're like me and know about Ginsberg's poetry, your curiosity might overwhelm you, and what's wrong with that?

Any of you guys 'n' gals seen it? What did you make of it?

Woop!

This actually happened a wee while back, but i just wanted to tell y'all that i finally got my name on the wall. The HashtagBeer wall, that is! I 'officially' feel part of it now.

I've been writing for HashtagBeer now since August 2013 and it has been lovely to share one of my greatest passions with the internettal community. Also it has been great to work with Paul, a true visionary in the field. He not only motivates me, but also inspires me.

May HashtagBeer reign always!

Peace and love x

Bret Easton Ellis' American Psycho

I’m probably not saying anything here that other critics (i use the term loosely in my case) haven’t said elsewhere, but here goes… I’ve wanted to review American Psycho for a while, but for some reason haven’t got round to it – now is the time. It's the story of a businessman and psychopath called Patrick Bateman. I probably read it about three or four years ago and, although it wasn’t always the 'most readable' book, it was always gripping enough and 'true literature' in the sense of the risks it takes, coupled with great technique. I’m not going to go into a full review here, i just want to talk about a couple of things i still think of, even after all this time.

            Number one is the structure of the thing, i.e. the chapters and passages. It seems so blunt, so textbook, to break up plot with the dense, extended descriptions of products and consumables, but also so absolutely natural in context. It makes one feel tense (especially as the more ‘gritty stuff’ kicks in, around the ‘Dry Cleaners’ chapter), as it’s like a closed door against overtly compelling material. We can hear sounds coming from behind it, but it’s not going to open until we read through.

            Of course these chapters serve another vital function, which is the satire of the yuppie culture in the late eighties and early nineties. Such a long reflection on, say, Whitney Houston’s albums, and to an even greater extent the model of hi-fi they are played on, neatly encapsulates the terror of capitalism (as it is today, at least) and the reaction to it. ‘Adverts’ are a way of keeping people fearful, making them feel afraid and ill-equipped in the world. How can ‘citizens’ take control? By spending money! But to spend it you gotta make it etc etc… I don’t want to get too political here, but Bateman seems to represent some sort of microcosm of the world. To me he’s an exaggerated response of insecure masculinity – ‘I have it all, I have the best, I know what I’m talking about, I’m in control’.

The main criticism of these passages is that they’re “boring,” but that’s the point in a way, nor would they work if they were ‘interesting’. They represent the quiet delirium of modern madness where consumerism, seemingly benignly, replaces ‘normal human function’ i.e. love. In terms of narrative it’s like a sweater thread being pulled at, i suppose; the process itself is slow and uninteresting, but it’s what the process eventually reveals that makes it more than worthwhile.

So these chapters both split up the narrative and make the whole novel more cohesive in terms of thematic content. ‘Boring’ just doesn’t add up here.

Second, i just wanted to talk about the much famed ‘gruesome bits’. I felt like a changed person after reading them: a genuine (if mild) post-traumatic discomfort. It lasted weeks. It coloured my thoughts for a while, not necessarily with fear but not necessarily with hatred either. Come to think of it, i’m not sure what i thought. I think mainly there was a kind of emptiness, a more visceral cynicism or something.

But hey, it passed. I was back to the ‘normal functioning’ human being that i am soon enough. Sure i’m weak, but i’ve got to say that you need an iron stomach and a heart of ice to not feel at least a little off-kilter after reading this. I don’t want to put you off, that’s the thing. This is brave literature at its peak, you have to have a deal of commitment to read it that you wouldn’t, say, with Dan Brown…

How the hell am i going to close this? Well i’m glad i read it. From a writer’s perspective it made me more comfortable with taking on whatever’s necessary and treating it more like clay: a material – not something with inherent moral certitudes. As a reader it certainly challenged my idea of ‘readable’. I felt such shifts in ‘comfortability’ with the writing matter that i have never since come close to. But it wasn’t mere sensationalism. Despite it being far from a didactic  narrative, i’ve learnt things. Maybe about how human humanity is, maybe about how human i am. Whatever it is, it's palpable.

Peace and love x

Jaume Collet-Serra's 'Orphan' (2009)

It's been a fair old while since Blogtastic has entertained a film review. Doubtless after reading this you will think the next one can't come late enough. Without further ado, here are my thoughts on Orphan, a film that explores what it would be like to be a family (made up of mum and dad, Kate and John, and a boy and a girl who i'm not even going to talk about) who adopt a sweet little girl (Esther) that turns out to be anything but.

It was a strange mix of (psychological) thriller and cringeworthily cliche horror. It's main skill seemed to reside in trying to 'lampoon' the 'traditional' shock moments in horror films (such as closing the fridge door/bathroom mirror etc), subverting some of the expectations. Maybe i'm being too cynical, but this didn't add anything to the film. It felt like a pastiche that tripped over its own laces.

Then there was the deadpan delivery of so much ridiculousness - a supposed nine-year old girl acting cuter than Joey Essex one minute, then speaking like a grizzled, middle-aged gangster the next. I know this is usually the point of 'this genre' (or these genres), to be far-fetched, but the twisty nature was too much really. The mention of a 'hormone imbalance' causing a thirty-three year old (with multiple scars around neck and wrists) to conceal herself as a young girl (with the help of ribbons and make-up) was plain silly. As for the motive - yeah she likes older men in relationships, fair enough, that happens to real people. But why pretend to be a pre-pubescent girl bent on murdering wives and families (burning down their house for a kind of twisted dessert) just to get a bit of nookie? And because it's such a superficial film, they missed out on the psychological depth of character that may have made us understand, perhaps even sympathise with, the eponymous antagonist. The fact that Esther (Isabelle Fuhrman) was in a mental asylum was supposed to make all this seem totally credible, but it just didn't. Add to this some extremely poor CGI (in some instances where it frankly wasn't needed in the slightest, such as Esther running) and made the suspension of disbelief harder than it already was. Which was impossible anyway.

I thought i noticed an allusion to The Shining toward the end, but the finale was so terrible that i must have been mistaken. There's this ridiculous 'showdown' (as there always has to be in these crappy churned out modern rubbish doofers) with a load of false endings to desperately ratchet up the tension that they couldn't write in using subtler methods. There was a bit where Kate (Vera Farmiga), seemingly kills the rampant Esther, only to run out the room and leave her alone before the police arrive. I immediately thought 'when help arrives, the body will have gone' and, of course, i was correct and totally unsurprised. Then there was a load of grapply-stabby action on a frozen lake that cracks, and plenty of 'oh, thank God she's dead OH WAIT NO SURPRISE STAB IN THE LEG!' moments. Really poor, they felt so contrived that i thought i was watching a Spanish soap opera (or something like that...).

The film was so confused between the realism of the social concerns (adoption, infertility, relationship stress) and the wholly unrealistic elements (the 'fantastic' - in terms of remoteness from reality, not positive evaluation - Oedipal horror involving unlikely events that carry on undetected for so long, all to the 'tension music' of strings and waterphones, no doubt borrowed from the last horror film that made a ton of money because its trailer looked half-decent). The result is an unconvincing film where, as you watch, you're not sure what it wants. Therefore you can't be sure if you're enjoying it, which means you're not.

Of course, i could go into the ridiculous minutiae, such as modern films' insistence on product placement. For example, when John (Peter Sarsgaard) pulls up to his house in a completely new, freshly polished SUV (the brand of which i won't dignify with a mention) in a world where all minor characters are driving rusted bangers around, it genuinely looks out of place. But i won't go into that. Instead i'll go into what the film does well. Be prepared for this. You ready?

Orphan exploits fear well. The gory dream sequence near the start will certainly try and scare you conceptually (and cheaply). The issue of parenthood and loss of offspring is such a rich emotional hotbed, and it is not dealt with gently here. If you are sensitive, you'll immediately be plunged into a sympathetic and nervous mood. Without that, you probably wouldn't even watch the film, but because it sucker-punched you at the start then maybe you'll invest in it more.

Peace out!

Highlight HashtagBeer

I been doing some some new stuff, baby
but this ain't about me -

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Check out this blog 'cause it's happening,
it's got news of current affairs and, more important,
reviews of taste sensations you can get in on.

You don't need to be no connoisseur,
just embrace the spirit of the beer,
enjoy life, endeavour and tongue-artistry.

See Paul Bailey, an awesome chap and friend of mine,
who has passion and wit unparalleled,
in a cosy fireside snuggle with one of the world's favourite beverages.

SO (drum roll):
here be the link you've been waiting for!
HastagBeer - there it is.

Check it out and enjoy!
Peace and love x