Highlander

Was I half-asleep or was it never adequately explained why “There can only be one?”

Sean Connery in gibberish movie.

Highlander was a complete pile of nonsense, with a barely anglophone Belgian, Christopher Lambert, playing a Scotsman and Sean Connery playing a Spanish-Egyptian swordfighting dandy. Lots of latent sadomasochistic homosexuality and some utterly unreal lighting, including gutter-level strobe lights.

It was showing on ITV, so there were frequent advert breaks, but oddly there were no real adverts, just solicitations to watch other programmes on ITV. Has the credit crunch killed TV advertising?

Cinéma Utopia

The other night C and I made a thorough investigation of one of Bordeaux’s cultural gems. Cinéma Utopia in the Saint Pierre district, at the heart of the historic centre ville is a five screen arthouse cinema housed in a converted church. The screen we sat in was small but adequate and the area around and underneath the screen was painted to resemble an altar with candles to each side. This irreverence is played out elsewhere in the building too. Some of the original stained glass windows have been modified to include the Utopia’s logo.

Stained glass window, Cinema Utopia, Bordeaux.

For a dedicated cinephile, the Utopia is aptly named. The films are not preceded by commercials or trailers. You sit and wait, the lights go out, people fall silent and the movie starts, just like that. It’s refreshingly pure to experience cinema treated with the same respect as theatre. During the movie everyone stays totally silent. There is no popcorn munching, (you can’t buy popcorn at the Utopia) nobody answers their phone and nobody issues whispered pleas for explication to their friends. The film we saw was Sidney Lumet’s The Verdict, from 1982, an original print in fine shape. There was a little dirt around the beginning and end of each reel and a significant amount on the tail of the film, which is to be expected. The colours had faded a little, but Paul Newman’s eyes were still startlingly blue. At the end of the film the house lights stayed down until the very end of the credits so you either watch until the very end or bumble about like an idiot in the pitch black.

The Utopia has a café and it’s the real French deal. Like I wrote earlier, there is no popcorn. There is no candy, either. There is an abundance of coffee, and a decent selection of beer, wine and pastries. Some wholesome and tasty meals come out of the kitchen. There is free wi-fi, but the place isn’t crammed with people bathing in the blue light of their laptop screens. The café has a couple of terraces of tables on the square outside, and I think it must bring in more money than the cinema itself. A full-price ticket for the Utopia is €6, and an abonnement (subscription) of 10 admissions costs €45. The multiplexes in town charge around €7,50. In the month of September they showed 36 different films, from a wide selection of countries and from different eras. Right now you can see the prizewinners from Cannes alongside retrospectives of great movies from the archives. In the coming month the selection of classic Hollywood movies includes Siodmak’s The Killers, Kazan’s East of Eden and Hawks’ Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. There is even philosophical and political graffiti in the toilets. The Utopia really lives up to its name.

Paul Newman as Harry Galvin in the Verdict.

It was spookily coincidental that the film we watched that night was The Verdict, in which a lawyer, whose idealism and naivety have cost him a comfortable job and his self-respect, takes a medical malpractice case to court, though it would be easier to settle, in order to do the right thing. It’s a classic tale of the little guy versus the big man, and yet Paul Newman in the title role and the direction of Sidney Lumet are create an emotional gravity that is modest, thoughtful and compelling in a manner seldom seen on screen in recent years. I hate to come across all curmudgeonly and say “They don’t make them like that any more,” but they really don’t.

On the way back from the cinema C and I were admiring Paul Newman as both a great performer, a genuinely good and philanthropic guy, and a good example of an American liberal. There are more films playing at the Utopia that benefited from Newman’s involvement, including one that he directed. I’m planning to make the most of the opportunity to see them. Having seen some of his best work the night before made the announcement of his death a little sadder for us. Damn, he was good.

Back in the Saddle

For the first time in what feels like months – and probably is – I rode my bike five miles to work and five miles back. I’d been starting to feel like a lardy, cranky bastard, but working up a sweat on the bike (mostly on the way back home) makes me think I’m back on the right track.

Other news: I’m currently reading a book that’s a collection of pages in a box. You assemble them in whatever order you want, except for the very first and the very last. It feels like inhabiting a very disorderly memory, which is likely the point. It’s called The Unfortunates and it was written by B. S. Johnson, no relation to London’s current head buffoon mayor.

Trunt, trunt

In A. S. Byatt’s Little Black Book of Stories there is one about a woman who turns into an beautiful and bewildering assembly of stones. Naturally she ends up in Iceland, where the stones are still very much alive. Talking to her Icelandic sculptor friend shortly before her final transformation, he tells her the story of a man who abandons his friends to live wild amongst the rocks. Each year for three years they visit him to see if he’s willing to return to them, and each time they ask what he believes in. The final time he responds, laughing “Trunt, trunt, og tröllin í fjöllunum,”

“‘Trunt, trunt’ is just nonsense, it means rubbish and junk and aha and hubble bubble, that sort of thing, I don’t know an English expression that will do as a translation. Trunt trunt, and the trolls in the fells.”

Ever since I finished the story, trunt has been rolling around inside my head. I love the idea of a word that is so chock-full of nothing.

I Drink Your Milkshake

This weekend has been my first time off from jobs and movie stuff for about two, maybe three months. After ignoring most of the Superbowl, I took Courtney to see There Will Be Blood. Within the first minute she whispered in my ear “I really notice cinematography now.” At that moment I think my heart skipped a beat.

Shooting Bulletins blog now live

Screenshot of Shooting Bulletins blog.

This weekend Courtney and I launched the Shooting Bulletins blog. It’s where we’re keeping a record of our progress as we attempt to make a short movie that will prove my worthiness to be admitted to film school. Check it out if you’d like to see how we’re doing and to find out how you can help us do what we need to do!

We’ll be putting the third bulletin up some time today.

The Strangest Village in Britain

This is funny, sad, touching, hopeful and true. It’s about the village of Botton in Yorkshire. I’ve only got so far as the two blokes in the print shop, who have a Goon Show-esque repartee, and if it weren’t time for bed I’d watch it all the way through.

Update: I finished watching. It was mostly quite decent, but the lack of any serious analysis of exactly how the Botton model helps its patients lead meaningful lives in spite of the difficulties they face was troubling. It felt as if the makers of the programme either intended to present a freakshow and make it acceptable by making some nod towards serious analysis, or they wanted to make something serious but lacked the budget to get interviews with experts, or that the programme makers were fairly young and failed to recognise they needed more serious analysis to add weight to the project. I suspect it was a combination of the latter two.

The Journey Starts

This week it’s starting to get serious. I’ve received some useful feedback on my script, I’ve cast an actor, and Courtney’s realising the scale of the project we’re about to embark on. My short movie with the working title “Julie, Julie” is officially in pre-production. In the next week or so I’ll be starting a new website with a “donate” button so people can help fund the project, should they so desire.

Thanks to my script readers: your feedback has been very useful.

More Shooting

This weekend was another orgy of video shooting. First off, most of Friday was spent preparing to shoot, and then shooting a Critical Mass of zombies and pirates. More will become apparent when it’s edited.

Saturday and Sunday were spent on a levee in Sacramento shooting a barbaric pinata massacre for my friend Stephanie. I’m quite pleased with how the footage looked when we played it back in the evenings. There was a distinct Tarantino-esque cruelty to a couple of shots.

Rockumentary

Palmer asked me if I could help him with a documentary project he’s working on, so this Sunday we went to Sacramento to interview locally-based outsider musician Lenny G. Blat. Something about him reminds me of the Legendary Stardust Cowboy.

Palmer’s started editing already, and a couple of clips are up on YouTube.

When the camera’s off Lenny is surprisingly warm, and unpredictable. He sings almost constantly, as if he has a musical variant of tourette’s syndrome.

New video: Sustainability Fair 2007

Last week I finished editing a short documentary profiling the Sustainability Fair the Davis Food Co-op held back in July. I could spend ages tidying it up and making it perfect, but I don’t really have time.

If you’re interested in reading my self-criticism, after the jump are some of the bits I’d spend time fixing in an ideal world in which days last 48 hours, I work for eight hours a day and need to sleep for only seven.

Playing catch-up

Recently I’ve had ideas for posts, but I’ve either been at work, visiting family, or too tired to be bothered blogging.

I’m determined to make time to write, produce, shoot and edit a short before the year is out, so I’m slotting in screenwriting time when I can. I’m also helping a couple of friends out with shorts, and still trying to finish off editing another couple of projects – one’s work related, the other is not.

What else? I snagged myself a copy of Lindsay Anderson’s If….. I enjoyed it, but would have taken even more from had I not been tired and corpulently well-fed the night I watched it. Court and I rented Truffaut’s Day for Night the other day, and both loved every second, which is rare, and we just watched Miyazaki’s Kiki’s Delivery Service, which was delightful. Now I’ve consumed two feelgood movies in a row, I feel my next cinematic entertainment should be thoroughly perverse.

It will please certain people to discover that Courtney’s been renting DVDs of the re-made Battlestar Galactica this week. I’ve been watching a few with her, and I’m actually really quite impressed. There’s a sense of restraint in the action sequences and with only one real exception, the tension and plotting is good. It also gives a lead role to the guy who played the origami-making cop in Blade Runner.

Attack of the Green Testicle

Now I know what it feels like to be Fidel Castro. For some reason I ate an unripe avocado last night, which gave me a itchy swelling in the back of my throat. It seems I’m allergic to unripe avocado. Eventually the itching spread to the insides of my ears and finally subsided after a couple of hours. As I was searching online to find out how serious my situation would get and what to do about it, I discovered my adverse reaction is caused by an enzyme called Chitinaze, of which there is a high concentration in avocado.

More interestingly, I found out that the name “avocado” comes from the Aztec or Nahuatl word “ahuacatl,” which means “testicle,” assumed to be a reference to the fruit’s shape.

Thanks to Courtney for initiating this voyage of discovery ;-)

Quick Tip

Avoid Tom Tykwer’s movie The Princess and the Warrior. It would be a good movie if Tykwer had realised he’d written a black comedy. Sadly for us, he didn’t, and all two and a half hours is played with a schmaltzy, po-faced earnestness which makes it utterly, utterly laughable.

Particularly outstanding among a host of contemptible moments is the bath time electrocution. This is a set-piece I’d been planning to use in my imaginary remake of Parting Shots. I’ve not seen Parting Shots, and nor do I intend to; it’s directed by Michael Winner and it stars Chris Rea, the singer. I want to take just the concept and make a bad-taste murderous revenge comedy, because that’s the kind of movie in which you dispose of characters by electrocuting them in the bathtub with a toaster on a 30ft cable.

In its defence, The Princess and the Warrior is beautifully shot and tidily edited. Contrary to the old adage, it is possible to polish a turd.

Armando Iannucci’s superheroes

This one is particularly great:

Creationist Kid
Jake Huckerman is by day a Baptist maths teacher in Alabama, but by night one of a new breed of superhero, the next stage in man’s evolution unleashing untapped potential within the brain. Unfortunately, Jake doesn’t believe in evolution because he thinks the world was created in six days from mud in God’s fingernails. Luckily, Jake’s unique special power is the ability to jump to a parallel universe in which he does believe in evolution. Unfortunately, he can’t tell anyone, because if he does, his friends and neighbours will hang him upside down from the neck of a negro. He channels all his frustrations into teaching a new kind of geometry to his pupils, showing them how quite literally to square a circle.

From his Guardian article.

Le Samouraï

Jean-Pierre Melville’s Le Samouraï has to be one of the coolest movies ever made. Just the production details offer a foretaste of its coolness: anything made in France in 1967 starring Alain Delon should at least pique a movie buff’s interest. Le Samouraï blends 40’s American gangster movie aesthetics, 60’s French pop culture and a dash of Samurai mystique.

Ian Richardson, RIP.

I’m sad to hear of the passing of Ian Richardson, an actor with one of the greatest voices I’ve ever heard, and coldly hypnotic eyes. I never saw him on the stage, but his performances for film and TV were always mesmerising. Obviously he’ll be well remembered for House of Cards and To Play the King but for me his roles in movies such as Brazil and Dark City are just as important.

Playing Catch-up

Looks like I’ve not posted in a while. Here’s a summary of the last sixty-six days.

Those who saw me and possibly the missus during December will know how much we tired ourselves out having fun and visiting what feels like everyone (but actually wasn’t) during the festive season.

Discovering that I’m a little part of history in a photo in the Globe museum (along with Eyelashjam and a small bunch of others) was a happy experience. Somewhere within me a small organ swelled with pride. Seeing M & K happily set-up in Brighton made both of us happy, and reunions back in Worcestershire and Buckinghamshire were as sweet as always.

We’ve been back in Davis for a month now, and I suppose we’re back in the swing of things. The tiny PS2 Rev Rehash gave us as a Saturnalia present has seen a lot of use, and led me to discover a very 21st century relationship dilemma which I’ll cover in a later post.

I taught my Cornish pastie and Chicken Tikka Masala course at the Co-op for a second time. No-one died. Even better, I’m working with my friend Ellis on a video project which will stay under wraps until it’s ready to be seen. I’m still procrastinating over writing the script for the short movie I hope to make with Jeff. It’ll happen soon; I feel it bubbling up through the mire of my consciousness. I’ve also had an idea for a non-narrative piece which explores reproduction and degeneration.

So far this year I’ve caught the following movies at the cinema:

  • The Queen
    Well-observed performances from Helen Mirren and Michael Sheen, and subtly critical of both the traditional British establishment and Blair’s courting of populist sentiment.
  • Pan’s Labyrinth
    Visually stunning, and a top performance from Sergi Lopez as a sadistic torturing fascist.
  • The Curse of the Golden Flower
    A grand statement about China’s current regime disguised as a lavish period romp; largely disappointing when you compare it to House of Flying Daggers and Hero, but look at all those extras – and all those jiggling busts!
  • Children of Men
    Felt like a hard punch in the guts; at one point I almost threw up with anxiety. It’s very impressive and I was slightly hungover.
  • Volver
    Quirky and darkly sweet, but not as kinky as I’d hoped. Everyone’s talking about Penelope Cruz and she is good, but Carmen Maura’s better.

I’m going to make an effort to catch Notes on a Scandal, Little Children and a nice little American social realist pic (don’t see many of those) called Flannel Pajamas. The Last King of Scotland starts at my work in the next couple of weeks, which makes it easy for me to see and I’m hoping we can get Paul Verhoeven’s Zwartboek (Black Book) mostly because it’s guaranteed to be up-front steamy and sexual, and there has been precious little sex on American cinema screens since the end of the Clinton era.

February 18th is the first day of the Chinese year of the Boar. Mmm. Pork. I’m looking forward to it already.

Christ!

Yesterday was my mainstream movie day. I caught The Departed and The Prestige at my local evil five-plex. Both good movies, and The Prestige was particularly noteworthy for being a fantastic exploration of artifice and deception, a real puzzle of a movie where the structure of the movie is the same as the structure of its subject – magic tricks.

Of course, we were bombarded with trailers. When I’m putting together the programme at the Varsity I normally attach a maximum of four trailers. Any more than that and I feel like I’m taxing the audience’s patience. At the evil five-plex you get twenty minutes of advertising for products and TV programmes and then six or seven (I lost count) trailers for coming features. Each one is about two and a half minutes. Towards the end of the reel or trailers, just as Jeff and I were asking each other if we were ever going to see the movie, an extended version of this played. "One family. One journey. One child who would change the world… forever." It looks like it will play well to the churches by the interstate in most of middle America. It looks fairly well shot in a Milk Tray advert style.

However, just in case Americans are in danger of forgetting what Christmas is all about, here’s another movie to remind them, Christmas at Maxwell’s, "powerful story of Christian happenings" complete with a small boy with wiggly eyebrows and crackling dialogue.

Look at this neat album! All of the pages are blank.

And here’s a movie about the people who are most likely to watch the previous two movies, Jesus Camp. I feel I should preface this trailer with a warning. It’s almost enough to put you off your dinner.

Eagleton on Dawkins

In his review of The God Delusion in the London Review of Books, Terry Eagleton plays Devil’s Advocate for theology in order to make some pointed criticisms of Dawkins’ rhetoric. As a firm atheist, I’m looking forward to reading The God Delusion over the festive season, and as someone who respects Terry Eagleton’s scholarly work, I was equally interested to read what he has to add to the debate.

80’s Flashback

Morrissey

For no particular reason, other than I’m in the mood and some of this stuff is classic, here are a bunch of songs (with videos) from early eighties Britain which prove the first seven years of my life weren’t all bad make-up, pixie boots and synthesizers (not that there’s anything wrong with a good Moog or an ARP).

1: The Clash – Rock the Casbah
To break everyone in nice and gently and to set the tone.