Let's get this immediate reaction out of the way so you can accept my stance on this film. I think it's amazing, I would go as far as to say it's one of the best Bonds ever. I have already been chided for this remark but this is what I will go on to argue in the coming inevitably long paragraphs. Having slept instead of staying up extremely late to write this review I'm worried the post-cinema glow will have faded, and as with Looper (another film I genuinely liked) I'll forget exactly what was so good and fail to write anything of note. This is a pressing concern. Nevertheless I know what I want to say so let's have at it.
My mother, having seen the film before me (distressing) declared that the film was boring. She said there was very little action, she didn't understand the motives of the villain, she wasn't happy with his terrible hair, and she didn't understand why James Bond was so dull. Let me confirm one thing, I don't think my mum could be more wrong. The first twenty minutes is a breathless chase with motorbikes on rooftops, a train-top digger incident and fist-fight and a shocking twist. Fair enough the following sequences aren't quite as bombastic but I think the film does something unique in a Bond film which is match the action with the quieter developments and themes with some skill. I wasn't bothered that Bond wasn't kicking ass because I was so enjoying his company. This is where I do believe my partner couldn't disagree more and this is where the big divisive part of this film comes from.
In Skyfall Q hands Bond a gun, it's programmed to his fingerprints/palms so only he can use it - 'Less of a random killing machine, more of a personal statement.'* Now I'm not the first or the last person to make the the claim that this essentially sums up the film. It definitely resonates from the moment it's said and the more the film unfurls around us it's more apparent that is a personal statement as much as it is an action film.
But herein lies the problem. Do we want to know Bond? Do we care? Is that what fans of the series want? My cinema buddy thinks not, he wants excitement, he wants audacious action set-pieces, he wants Bond to sleep with the woman, have a drink and go to bed and call it a day. More-so than before in the series the Daniel Craig era has been working at fleshing out the character of Bond by giving us his origins, developing his relationship with Judi Dench's M, and making him work through his personal demons. I could watch all of Sean Connery's Bond career and sum up his character in several points: Bond can kill anyone with any tool, skilled at everything, he'll have sex with any woman who is attractive -skills, he loves to drink but specifically a Martini, he can't help crack a quip - he's witty, he is a man on a mission and will do anything to see it done - brave/courageous. Aside from that there is little else that really sticks; specifically the women he entangles himself with each film. Bond is an action man and nothing more. This is what people have come to expect from a Bond film, especially if you've just spent the past few weeks trying to watch all the previous films in as short a time as possible.** In Skyfall Bond transcends the stereotype Bond has become and we actually learn more about him. A heated debate ensued with my partner as to whether or not this is a good thing. 'Bond should bang the women, save the world, have a drink and kick ass!' My partner declared, I disagree.
James Bond has been around for 50 years now, in fact they released the film on it's 50th anniversary, Bond's favourite whiskey in the film is a 1962 malt, Bond drives his beloved Aston Martin DB5 which plays an integral part to the films last act, there is a deep respect for the film's heritage running throughout. Fifty years is a bloody long time! No other franchise could go on that long, unless it was uniquely British***. We can't have Sean Connery donning a tuxedo and jumping off buildings any more (although that would be awesome...), times change and Bond does too. They are building on the character of Bond, they are doing something different, we are learning more about him and he is becoming 'less of a random killing machine.' Over the years Bond has faced a lot of stiff competition, we're getting a whole new generation of action films, they're everywhere! And in them all we pretty much get the one-dimensional male who will inevitably kick some serious ass and save the world/family/country. Will he look as good in a dinner jacket? No, no one can. But there are so many knocking about, we're looking for more! In the good old days all Bond had to do was turn up in his suit complete with his exploding pen and pistol and he would be the best thing in the cinema by a long way. Times have changed, there are plenty of blockbuster action films about now, Bond isn't unique. Skyfall has proven to me as a fan of not only Bond but cinema, is that Bond is the best. He is the best at saving the world, he is the best at action, and most importantly he is the best at giving us a hero to root for, a fleshed out and interesting person, a man. That's more than your standard action fodder, no? Once again we are being given a unique cinematic experience. A film steeped in heritage, an action film with a beating heart, a respect for the past, an acknowledgement of modernity, an all around belter of action and twists and turns, and most importantly, thoroughly entertaining!
So what about the actual film? I'm at pains to give anything away as I expect anyone who grazes their eyes across this review to go see Skyfall immediately, as in right now, go! Actually you know what, I don't think I need to justify the film with an actual review, or a rehash of minor plot details and my sole quibble about the film.**** The Bond girls, in their own way were great, not one of them felt the need to don a bikini for no apparent reason. The acting was up to such a high standard, every action sequence had a sliver of humour as well as heart-in-your-mouth action. The cinematography! I know I keep throwing that word out there... but the film was shot superbly, the locations, the whole mood of the film was just absolutely stunning, I've not seen a more beautifully shot film in years.
Just get off your arses and go see the movie, you won't be disappointed. If you are, simply crack out the old Bond boxsets and watch Connery at work, just not the Roger Moore ones, kay?
* First off, Q is played by the fantastic Ben Whishaw, seriously give
the man a hand, I've seen him in Criminal Justice (BBC miniseries grim)
The Hours (BBC attempt at Mad Men but in the newsroom in the 50s) and
I'm Not There (for a film with so many acting heavyweights playing Bob
Dylan my favourite parts were his, he lit up the screen.) So in all
honesty it's such a delight to see him in a big blockbuster movie
playing such an iconic role, I'm so made up for him, plus he does such a
good job!
** Not that I did that... Well ok, maybe I watched a few, I was genuinely that excited!
***An institution, like Doctor Who. We know how to continue a series successfully for many decades. And let's face it, there are missteps in both Bond and Who but instead of ignoring them we embrace the mistakes and continue to strive for perfection.
**** **Slight spoilers** It's not right that they put Bond appearing and shooting the screen with the blood running down, at the end. It should be at the beginning godamnit! I know it would have messed with the aesthetic of the start sequence but it's supposed to be at the beginning! It's not Bond if he doesn't 'die' at least once... Plus it wouldn't be much of a film series if they just killed him... Stick it at the beginning!
Monday 29 October 2012
Friday 26 October 2012
Recollections
That's right, it's another quote entry no one asked for. I recalled a whole load of quotes that I hadn't used previously, none of them were from me but I may slip some personal gems in there. I seem to be gradually getting into a better mood lately. Perhaps me and my boyfriend are finally seeming to connect again, perhaps it's that new shampoo which makes my hair smell really nice, perhaps it's the bottle of wine I drank for no apparent reason other than it was £1.99 and tasted like vinegar water, perhaps it's because I'm going home tomorrow to see my mother and I will drink a whole load more wine and regret saying and doing things which my family will thankfully forget and never speak of again. Who knows. Perhaps I truly am just a zombie*.
Here's the thing: If you ever got me, you wouldn't have a clue what to do with me. (1)
It's not so pleasant and it's not so conventional. It sure as hell ain't normal but we deal, we deal. (2)
Girls are supposed to dance. That's why god gave them parts that jiggle.(3)
To be forgotten is worse than death. (4)
The things I do for love. (5)
But you know what’s left? Love. All I feel for you now is love. Nothing else. (6)
I'm running away with you, that's all I ever do. Let's leave it all behind, help me back, to my mind. (7)
Nobody knows you, and nobody gives a damn either way. (8)
During your first time, if the guy says to you at any point, 'Please let me do you up the arse because my girlfriend won't let me.' You know something has gone horribly wrong. (9)
We want the finest wines available to humanity. And we want them here, and we want them now! (10)
Urgh, where did that bottle of wine go... Why are my eyes stinging... Oh right... It's been the longest day I've had in ages. Calling quits until I think of more. Ah yes the empty bottle of wine has wriggled down to my ankles on bed... I should put that somewhere safe. Off home tomorrow to regret visiting my parents, getting drunk and watching Saturday night television after meal at the restaurant time forgot next to the beach I spent my youth gazing at whimsically. Will stumble into Uncle's bed and breakfast after crawling out of home, make enough noise to warrant being chastised in the morning for disturbing guests, will scarf down sausage sammich in ill thought out pyjamas, will then spend hour telling my aunt about all the things I daren't tell my mother.... If anyone in the universe knows the whole story they will be hunted down and silenced. I mean the whole story of my life of course. Happy days.
(1) So, funny story, this is a quote from Maxine in Being John Malkovich (it's entrenched in the top 5 of my favourite films ever). It was also a line I used the days I was single and ready to mingle at the bars. I think the term used to describe me would be a bar fly. I'd let a guy chat me up, I'd pout and banter until he bought me a drink, then there would be the inevitable come on. I would smile and place my hand on his shoulder, I would say this line and nine times out of ten the guy would accept I wasn't interested and move on to the next girl with the garish make up and tiny skirt... Them were the days... In the rare instance it would cause a man to be even more clingy I would down the drink and leave the club/bar without a second thought and disappear.
(2) Boo Panic at the Disco you say? Well boo you! Their first album, although experimental in essence was beyond amazing. I don't care... Unfortunately their second album destroyed my faith in their creativity and direction as a band (as most second albums tend to do...) and I lost my interest in them. So this song is about lead lyricist Ryan Ross contending with his father's alcoholism, go figure, it's pretty intense. Can't say my family was as dysfunctional with it's hospital visits but we were vicious. My sister and I didn't realise how wrong it was until a therapist told us otherwise. It's the saddest day of your life when you realise your parents aren't infallible, when you discover they are as fragile and as lost as you are. It's heartbreaking when you realise you can't help them, no matter how hard you try. So this song helped me through some teenage dark days, hardcore, I know.
|(3) Not so much a best quote line but an anecdote initiator. Thank you Troy Barnes from Community, the best TV show ever for pointing out something hilarious and truthful - I am aware the picture is actually from Troy's extremely well thought out crab joke, I just love his beautiful face. I told the people at my volunteer job I was a professional dancer (utter bullshit), I may have elaborated further to claim I was in a production of the Nutcracker when I was 16, back then I could get my leg over the head, oh yeah I could do it now, I just need to stretch and be at the right angle. No one flinches at my continuous double entendres, hence my persistence and continued elaborate lies in order to get a chortle out of someone. No I'm not Clara, she's blonde, are you crazy? Sugar Plum Fairy? More like Sugar Bum... Do I look like a fat arse to you? Surprisingly I haven't had any liquid courage to come out with these lines, everyone is just really forgiving or forgetful at that place...
(4) Poor Freya Crescent, no one likes you. Well I sure as hell don't. Poor Freya, a relatively ignored character from my favourite Final Fantasy of the franchise FFIX. That game has carved such a special place in my heart that it will forever remain there never to be replaced, I know it more intimately than anything I've known, it's my favourite game. Unfortunately the best quote, the most truthful, the most memorable, my favourite quote, comes from a virtual non-entity after disc 1... Shame. Awesome quote, beautiful game.
(5) The things I would do for Jaime Lannister...
(6) As with most sane people I wasn't a great big fan of season 4 of Skins, I think I mentioned it on this blog in fact. I love the rest of it, even that ill advised 3rd generation which no one particularly liked but me, I watched it all rapt with awe and a curled lip of disbelief as I ranted about songs appearing which shouldn't have in certain episodes. But here it is, the quote from Skins I remember the most and that sticks out so strongly. Go figure, season 4 had something good, it's adorable and heartfelt.
(7) You're on a train, you're trying to convey something. You're sitting next to someone you love, you've fled your life, coming back from somewhere you'd never been, you want to convey how much they mean to you, what it all was for. You convinced them the best thing to do was just run, to just escape instead of face the problems at hand, you talked in a different city, you pretended for one day to forget it all, you were happy, what you always wanted to be. You play this song, it conveys all you wanted to say without saying anything. They understood, nothing more was said. You return to reality, your whole self aches to run again.
(8) I'll Believe in Anything is originally by Wolf Parade but I have two covers by Sunset Rubdown and Her Space Holiday also on my iTunes. It's an awesome song regardless of who sings it, I'll take any, they are all awesome. Brilliant song and a quote that also soothes on those lonely days. The original is the best, although I could change my mind again...
(9) My personal attempt at imparting wisdom. I went home this weekend, spoke to my cousin, she is more interested in talking about sex now she is a gnarly teenager, she wanted to know about my first time. In a moment of familial affection I decided to be completely honest with her and use the story of my first time as a cautionary tale. It ended up being condensed into one bitesize quote. If she loses her virginity in a manner which is less awkward and rubbish than mine then I'll consider my job done. Hopefully she won't let me down.
(10) Withnail. Richard E. Grant, one of the best characters in a film, an alcoholic, narcissistic unemployed actor. His first role in a film, and this from a man who is a complete teetotaller, amazing! It's such a good film and it's use of Hamlet quotes also please me. The whole holiday in the Lakes never ceases to amuse me, and Uncle Monty! So of course nothing beats Richard E Grant flouncing into a cafe and demanding alcohols for his parched throat.
*A guy at work calls me a zombie. It's because I walk around with a dazed expression on my face I assume. It's just how my face relaxes... At my previous job a girl told me in a much nicer manner 'You're just really hard to read.' Hence why no one bothered and I remained on the shelf among the other autobiographies no one has any interest in.
Here's the thing: If you ever got me, you wouldn't have a clue what to do with me. (1)
It's not so pleasant and it's not so conventional. It sure as hell ain't normal but we deal, we deal. (2)
Girls are supposed to dance. That's why god gave them parts that jiggle.(3)
To be forgotten is worse than death. (4)
The things I do for love. (5)
But you know what’s left? Love. All I feel for you now is love. Nothing else. (6)
I'm running away with you, that's all I ever do. Let's leave it all behind, help me back, to my mind. (7)
Nobody knows you, and nobody gives a damn either way. (8)
During your first time, if the guy says to you at any point, 'Please let me do you up the arse because my girlfriend won't let me.' You know something has gone horribly wrong. (9)
We want the finest wines available to humanity. And we want them here, and we want them now! (10)
Urgh, where did that bottle of wine go... Why are my eyes stinging... Oh right... It's been the longest day I've had in ages. Calling quits until I think of more. Ah yes the empty bottle of wine has wriggled down to my ankles on bed... I should put that somewhere safe. Off home tomorrow to regret visiting my parents, getting drunk and watching Saturday night television after meal at the restaurant time forgot next to the beach I spent my youth gazing at whimsically. Will stumble into Uncle's bed and breakfast after crawling out of home, make enough noise to warrant being chastised in the morning for disturbing guests, will scarf down sausage sammich in ill thought out pyjamas, will then spend hour telling my aunt about all the things I daren't tell my mother.... If anyone in the universe knows the whole story they will be hunted down and silenced. I mean the whole story of my life of course. Happy days.
(1) So, funny story, this is a quote from Maxine in Being John Malkovich (it's entrenched in the top 5 of my favourite films ever). It was also a line I used the days I was single and ready to mingle at the bars. I think the term used to describe me would be a bar fly. I'd let a guy chat me up, I'd pout and banter until he bought me a drink, then there would be the inevitable come on. I would smile and place my hand on his shoulder, I would say this line and nine times out of ten the guy would accept I wasn't interested and move on to the next girl with the garish make up and tiny skirt... Them were the days... In the rare instance it would cause a man to be even more clingy I would down the drink and leave the club/bar without a second thought and disappear.
(2) Boo Panic at the Disco you say? Well boo you! Their first album, although experimental in essence was beyond amazing. I don't care... Unfortunately their second album destroyed my faith in their creativity and direction as a band (as most second albums tend to do...) and I lost my interest in them. So this song is about lead lyricist Ryan Ross contending with his father's alcoholism, go figure, it's pretty intense. Can't say my family was as dysfunctional with it's hospital visits but we were vicious. My sister and I didn't realise how wrong it was until a therapist told us otherwise. It's the saddest day of your life when you realise your parents aren't infallible, when you discover they are as fragile and as lost as you are. It's heartbreaking when you realise you can't help them, no matter how hard you try. So this song helped me through some teenage dark days, hardcore, I know.
|(3) Not so much a best quote line but an anecdote initiator. Thank you Troy Barnes from Community, the best TV show ever for pointing out something hilarious and truthful - I am aware the picture is actually from Troy's extremely well thought out crab joke, I just love his beautiful face. I told the people at my volunteer job I was a professional dancer (utter bullshit), I may have elaborated further to claim I was in a production of the Nutcracker when I was 16, back then I could get my leg over the head, oh yeah I could do it now, I just need to stretch and be at the right angle. No one flinches at my continuous double entendres, hence my persistence and continued elaborate lies in order to get a chortle out of someone. No I'm not Clara, she's blonde, are you crazy? Sugar Plum Fairy? More like Sugar Bum... Do I look like a fat arse to you? Surprisingly I haven't had any liquid courage to come out with these lines, everyone is just really forgiving or forgetful at that place...
(4) Poor Freya Crescent, no one likes you. Well I sure as hell don't. Poor Freya, a relatively ignored character from my favourite Final Fantasy of the franchise FFIX. That game has carved such a special place in my heart that it will forever remain there never to be replaced, I know it more intimately than anything I've known, it's my favourite game. Unfortunately the best quote, the most truthful, the most memorable, my favourite quote, comes from a virtual non-entity after disc 1... Shame. Awesome quote, beautiful game.
(5) The things I would do for Jaime Lannister...
(6) As with most sane people I wasn't a great big fan of season 4 of Skins, I think I mentioned it on this blog in fact. I love the rest of it, even that ill advised 3rd generation which no one particularly liked but me, I watched it all rapt with awe and a curled lip of disbelief as I ranted about songs appearing which shouldn't have in certain episodes. But here it is, the quote from Skins I remember the most and that sticks out so strongly. Go figure, season 4 had something good, it's adorable and heartfelt.
(7) You're on a train, you're trying to convey something. You're sitting next to someone you love, you've fled your life, coming back from somewhere you'd never been, you want to convey how much they mean to you, what it all was for. You convinced them the best thing to do was just run, to just escape instead of face the problems at hand, you talked in a different city, you pretended for one day to forget it all, you were happy, what you always wanted to be. You play this song, it conveys all you wanted to say without saying anything. They understood, nothing more was said. You return to reality, your whole self aches to run again.
(8) I'll Believe in Anything is originally by Wolf Parade but I have two covers by Sunset Rubdown and Her Space Holiday also on my iTunes. It's an awesome song regardless of who sings it, I'll take any, they are all awesome. Brilliant song and a quote that also soothes on those lonely days. The original is the best, although I could change my mind again...
(9) My personal attempt at imparting wisdom. I went home this weekend, spoke to my cousin, she is more interested in talking about sex now she is a gnarly teenager, she wanted to know about my first time. In a moment of familial affection I decided to be completely honest with her and use the story of my first time as a cautionary tale. It ended up being condensed into one bitesize quote. If she loses her virginity in a manner which is less awkward and rubbish than mine then I'll consider my job done. Hopefully she won't let me down.
(10) Withnail. Richard E. Grant, one of the best characters in a film, an alcoholic, narcissistic unemployed actor. His first role in a film, and this from a man who is a complete teetotaller, amazing! It's such a good film and it's use of Hamlet quotes also please me. The whole holiday in the Lakes never ceases to amuse me, and Uncle Monty! So of course nothing beats Richard E Grant flouncing into a cafe and demanding alcohols for his parched throat.
*A guy at work calls me a zombie. It's because I walk around with a dazed expression on my face I assume. It's just how my face relaxes... At my previous job a girl told me in a much nicer manner 'You're just really hard to read.' Hence why no one bothered and I remained on the shelf among the other autobiographies no one has any interest in.
Thursday 25 October 2012
Love Will Tear You Apart
Wednesday 24 October 2012
NaNoWriMo
50,000 words. One desperate person.
I set up my new novel. I'm sticking with it, I'm not changing my mind. I wrote a load of ideas out on a napkin at Starbucks the other day. Hopefully my inspiration will not fail me.
If anything I want to achieve the bad sex in literature award for my attempts at 'erotic fiction'. Also I thought I was being funny when I chose it as a genre...
Novel Writing!
I set up my new novel. I'm sticking with it, I'm not changing my mind. I wrote a load of ideas out on a napkin at Starbucks the other day. Hopefully my inspiration will not fail me.
If anything I want to achieve the bad sex in literature award for my attempts at 'erotic fiction'. Also I thought I was being funny when I chose it as a genre...
Novel Writing!
Saturday 20 October 2012
On the Road
Just seen this film, it's ten to two in the morning, late night showing. Want to review it, can't keep eyes open. Blogging this as reminder!
******
Against my better judgement I'll try and write something coherent now. My honest opinion is the whole thing was a bit muddled, or maybe that was me. I haven't read the book, another one I intend to put on my list, my reading is being massively disrupted shamefully by pokemon and knitting, earning a wage and volunteering, getting lost... And watching films. If I had read the book perhaps I'd have been irked by the changes made, of which I've been told there are a few, but there were those standard Hollywood flairs that irked me anyway. The book itself is supposed to embody the beatnik movement of it's time, the late 40s, early 50s, I know of it, I read Howl. Still doesn't mean I liked the film.
The film was produced by Francis Ford Coppolla, had a modest budget, a fancy foreign director (he did the film adaptation of The Motorcycle Diaries - watched it for Gael Garcia Bernal - it was good) a flurry of famous names and two relatively unknown leads taking us through the core of the story, it was a Sundance selected film and it had the art house film of something that should have touched me deeply. I'm willing to admit that this is my ongoing problem, I tend not to feel what films are trying to convey nowadays, comedies rarely make me laugh and films about people trying desperately to find themselves and battle through life rarely touch me as much as they should. Perhaps I'm jaded but I was confused about the message the film and probably the original text was trying to convey. I won't go into a big diatribe about how I disagree with any of it. I can't say I disagree with it because it's not a clear cut message. The film itself is about as aimless as it's lead characters and that's not really a good thing.
Sal, the main character, is an aspiring writer. It's the age-old adage that in order to write something, honestly, with any authority or emotion, you have to have felt it or lived it yourself. Andy McNab writing about soldiers, Candace Bushnell writing about being a columnist in New York... I'm tired but I could further this list given time... There is also the blunt fact that in fairness authors can pretty much make up whatever the hell they want, they need no authority, no experience, they can just take us on a flight of fantasy. But for it to be coherent, for it to be any good, there always has to be a human element, an anchor of reality, real emotions. That's what author's strive for, being able to transport people to their world, in order to do that it has to be convincing. Don't get me wrong, there are terrible authors who are barely capable of transporting anyone anywhere but their ideas are good and people enjoy that. Getting to my point! Sal is, from my basic understanding and weariness, trying to live, meet people, immerse himself in life, in order to find inspiration to write. The more you see, the more people you meet, the more you know, learn, feel, the more you can write about. He sits for ages with his little notepads when he is about doing something, when he is with others, that's where he learns, thus he scribbles it down.
So Sal meets Dean, he meets a lot of other people but the core of the film is his relationship with Dean. To be honest, it's not even so much about Sal himself, the character isn't really all that fleshed out (aside from his beatnik sensibilities and love for the cotton-pickers of the world), this film is about Dean, Dean's relationships, Dean's philosophy, Dean's life, we start the film hearing about him, end the film thinking about him. As we are putting so much focus on this guy let's hope he's something to get damn excited about. Well Garrett Hedlund is a delight to observe, he has the James Bond style flair at getting with the ladies, and when that's not an option, hey the boy isn't picky. He's a charismatic, beautiful creature with the soul of a poet and the ability to drag everyone and everything crashing down to his destructive level. He's a firecracker, he lives in the moment, he's a thrillseeker, he's bright and he's exciting, but with the light comes dark, good comes the bad, as good as he can be he's also massively disappointing in his actions and what he does, he also has a knack for leaving. So he's a brilliant arsehole.
I don't care about the fact that the film dots about in an unstructured fashion, not so bothered that there is very little in terms of plot, it's just a bunch of stuff that happens after given intervals as the main character essentially lives his life and Dean hurtles in and out of it with his road trips and adventures. Not so bothered by the standard travelling music that plays, I even quite liked the jazz. Didn't care that all the characters, as in all films trying to depict the frailties of humanity, has the characters excessively drinking, smoking and taking recreational drugs, mostly for fun and because, well smoking was as common as anything at the time. It's a Hollywood trope that usually irritates me, that for the characters to be so intense, so interesting, they all have to drink hard liquor and engage in drug use, just because they are so deep, it's the only way they handle it, in this film I'm not bothered. I would say I was a bit bothered by seeing Steve Buscemi in a compromising position... I'll get over it. The overbearing sex in the film was slightly unecessary at points... But hey, perhaps that's just me, it's not often there are multiple threesomes in your popcorn films - well one was a non starter but almost two times!
Here I am trying to puzzle out the message of film. I'll admit, it's life, it's a messy, uncontrollable mass of decisions, mistakes, people and adventures... But was Sal trying to find himself? Was he trying to find inspiration to write? If so did all he find was Dean? A twisted person, someone who had hurt just about everyone around him, he was a whole lot of fun, but wasn't what Sal wanted to find something within himself to write? Did he? Because all the film conveyed was him somewhat using Dean as his inspiration. I've always deeply believed that to write something it has to come from within ourselves, somewhere deep down, we have to understand ourselves as a person, knowing someone else is... I don't want to say easy, because you can fill in the gaps if there are any, to know yourself completely is a tougher challenge. That's not what this film is about, the writing part, but as someone who is trying to write, or least believes one day she'll send something to a publisher that she thinks is good enough... Ah crap. My train of thought has evaporated. I'll cave. Sal didn't need to know himself, he knew Dean, he wrote what he knew, that was Dean, Dean was a pretty damn interesting subject. Way more interesting than him it would seem, or the road, why am I moaning about all this?
Ok so through all this I have failed to address the actual components of the film, the actors, I always give a bit of my opinion on them. Hey go figure, Kristen Stewart can smile, she can sing, she can do sex scenes somewhat convincingly, good for her, I didn't hate or love her performance, she did what she could with what she was given, I'm not going to complain about it, plus even with her downward curve of a mouth, she is quite pretty, the camera at least loves her. Then there is the revelation which is Garrett Hedlund, playing the lead Dean, I could list some superlatives to describe how impressed I was by the guy, he was a sight to behold in every scene, he managed to convey the enigmatic, incandescence of whatever Dean was supposed to be, best part of the film apart from probably the cinematography. The other lead, Sal, was played by Sam Riley, now this guy has already played Ian Curtis, something he did very well, I expected great things from him, he didn't disappoint, even though the character was quite a thinly drawn mask of an author, he was still very good. Kirsten Dunst also made an appearance but for the life of me I can't say anything was remotely memorable about her aggregate ten minutes of screen time, shame too because she is usually quite a reliable source of entertainment; she just had so little to work with, again. Amy Adams popped up, as she did in every film that was advertised at the cinema, she was a bit ker-azy, Viggo Mortensen made an appearance, took his trousers off and took some drugs while he was at it. Elisabeth Moss was about too, along with the aforementioned Steve Buscemi, some seriously fun casting, but it didn't detract from the overall aimlessness of the film.
It's fair to say I'm probably just nitpicking, it's creeping towards dawn and I'm not in the most forgiving of minds. For a film to mean something, anything, it has to transcend the doldrums of life, it has to give us something to think about, a message, a reason, why does it exist? What is it trying to say? That the more exciting, bright and creative a person is the more destructive, dark and suicidal they are? That the road is the place to find yourself? That life is mess and you live and you learn? Being a beatnik author is hard graft! Perhaps someone should just smugly smile at me and say 'It's just too deep for you.' Then I'll put a bag over my head and walk off. I dunno... It wasn't a bad film. It wasn't the best either. It'll fall into the category between mediocrity and memorable, I'll get round to reading the book before I judge it much more. It was long and I'm tired, it's past 3am and I'm all out of words that might come together in sentences of any coherence. I think I've rambled enough. I bid you adieu.
******
Against my better judgement I'll try and write something coherent now. My honest opinion is the whole thing was a bit muddled, or maybe that was me. I haven't read the book, another one I intend to put on my list, my reading is being massively disrupted shamefully by pokemon and knitting, earning a wage and volunteering, getting lost... And watching films. If I had read the book perhaps I'd have been irked by the changes made, of which I've been told there are a few, but there were those standard Hollywood flairs that irked me anyway. The book itself is supposed to embody the beatnik movement of it's time, the late 40s, early 50s, I know of it, I read Howl. Still doesn't mean I liked the film.
The film was produced by Francis Ford Coppolla, had a modest budget, a fancy foreign director (he did the film adaptation of The Motorcycle Diaries - watched it for Gael Garcia Bernal - it was good) a flurry of famous names and two relatively unknown leads taking us through the core of the story, it was a Sundance selected film and it had the art house film of something that should have touched me deeply. I'm willing to admit that this is my ongoing problem, I tend not to feel what films are trying to convey nowadays, comedies rarely make me laugh and films about people trying desperately to find themselves and battle through life rarely touch me as much as they should. Perhaps I'm jaded but I was confused about the message the film and probably the original text was trying to convey. I won't go into a big diatribe about how I disagree with any of it. I can't say I disagree with it because it's not a clear cut message. The film itself is about as aimless as it's lead characters and that's not really a good thing.
Sal, the main character, is an aspiring writer. It's the age-old adage that in order to write something, honestly, with any authority or emotion, you have to have felt it or lived it yourself. Andy McNab writing about soldiers, Candace Bushnell writing about being a columnist in New York... I'm tired but I could further this list given time... There is also the blunt fact that in fairness authors can pretty much make up whatever the hell they want, they need no authority, no experience, they can just take us on a flight of fantasy. But for it to be coherent, for it to be any good, there always has to be a human element, an anchor of reality, real emotions. That's what author's strive for, being able to transport people to their world, in order to do that it has to be convincing. Don't get me wrong, there are terrible authors who are barely capable of transporting anyone anywhere but their ideas are good and people enjoy that. Getting to my point! Sal is, from my basic understanding and weariness, trying to live, meet people, immerse himself in life, in order to find inspiration to write. The more you see, the more people you meet, the more you know, learn, feel, the more you can write about. He sits for ages with his little notepads when he is about doing something, when he is with others, that's where he learns, thus he scribbles it down.
So Sal meets Dean, he meets a lot of other people but the core of the film is his relationship with Dean. To be honest, it's not even so much about Sal himself, the character isn't really all that fleshed out (aside from his beatnik sensibilities and love for the cotton-pickers of the world), this film is about Dean, Dean's relationships, Dean's philosophy, Dean's life, we start the film hearing about him, end the film thinking about him. As we are putting so much focus on this guy let's hope he's something to get damn excited about. Well Garrett Hedlund is a delight to observe, he has the James Bond style flair at getting with the ladies, and when that's not an option, hey the boy isn't picky. He's a charismatic, beautiful creature with the soul of a poet and the ability to drag everyone and everything crashing down to his destructive level. He's a firecracker, he lives in the moment, he's a thrillseeker, he's bright and he's exciting, but with the light comes dark, good comes the bad, as good as he can be he's also massively disappointing in his actions and what he does, he also has a knack for leaving. So he's a brilliant arsehole.
I don't care about the fact that the film dots about in an unstructured fashion, not so bothered that there is very little in terms of plot, it's just a bunch of stuff that happens after given intervals as the main character essentially lives his life and Dean hurtles in and out of it with his road trips and adventures. Not so bothered by the standard travelling music that plays, I even quite liked the jazz. Didn't care that all the characters, as in all films trying to depict the frailties of humanity, has the characters excessively drinking, smoking and taking recreational drugs, mostly for fun and because, well smoking was as common as anything at the time. It's a Hollywood trope that usually irritates me, that for the characters to be so intense, so interesting, they all have to drink hard liquor and engage in drug use, just because they are so deep, it's the only way they handle it, in this film I'm not bothered. I would say I was a bit bothered by seeing Steve Buscemi in a compromising position... I'll get over it. The overbearing sex in the film was slightly unecessary at points... But hey, perhaps that's just me, it's not often there are multiple threesomes in your popcorn films - well one was a non starter but almost two times!
Here I am trying to puzzle out the message of film. I'll admit, it's life, it's a messy, uncontrollable mass of decisions, mistakes, people and adventures... But was Sal trying to find himself? Was he trying to find inspiration to write? If so did all he find was Dean? A twisted person, someone who had hurt just about everyone around him, he was a whole lot of fun, but wasn't what Sal wanted to find something within himself to write? Did he? Because all the film conveyed was him somewhat using Dean as his inspiration. I've always deeply believed that to write something it has to come from within ourselves, somewhere deep down, we have to understand ourselves as a person, knowing someone else is... I don't want to say easy, because you can fill in the gaps if there are any, to know yourself completely is a tougher challenge. That's not what this film is about, the writing part, but as someone who is trying to write, or least believes one day she'll send something to a publisher that she thinks is good enough... Ah crap. My train of thought has evaporated. I'll cave. Sal didn't need to know himself, he knew Dean, he wrote what he knew, that was Dean, Dean was a pretty damn interesting subject. Way more interesting than him it would seem, or the road, why am I moaning about all this?
Ok so through all this I have failed to address the actual components of the film, the actors, I always give a bit of my opinion on them. Hey go figure, Kristen Stewart can smile, she can sing, she can do sex scenes somewhat convincingly, good for her, I didn't hate or love her performance, she did what she could with what she was given, I'm not going to complain about it, plus even with her downward curve of a mouth, she is quite pretty, the camera at least loves her. Then there is the revelation which is Garrett Hedlund, playing the lead Dean, I could list some superlatives to describe how impressed I was by the guy, he was a sight to behold in every scene, he managed to convey the enigmatic, incandescence of whatever Dean was supposed to be, best part of the film apart from probably the cinematography. The other lead, Sal, was played by Sam Riley, now this guy has already played Ian Curtis, something he did very well, I expected great things from him, he didn't disappoint, even though the character was quite a thinly drawn mask of an author, he was still very good. Kirsten Dunst also made an appearance but for the life of me I can't say anything was remotely memorable about her aggregate ten minutes of screen time, shame too because she is usually quite a reliable source of entertainment; she just had so little to work with, again. Amy Adams popped up, as she did in every film that was advertised at the cinema, she was a bit ker-azy, Viggo Mortensen made an appearance, took his trousers off and took some drugs while he was at it. Elisabeth Moss was about too, along with the aforementioned Steve Buscemi, some seriously fun casting, but it didn't detract from the overall aimlessness of the film.
It's fair to say I'm probably just nitpicking, it's creeping towards dawn and I'm not in the most forgiving of minds. For a film to mean something, anything, it has to transcend the doldrums of life, it has to give us something to think about, a message, a reason, why does it exist? What is it trying to say? That the more exciting, bright and creative a person is the more destructive, dark and suicidal they are? That the road is the place to find yourself? That life is mess and you live and you learn? Being a beatnik author is hard graft! Perhaps someone should just smugly smile at me and say 'It's just too deep for you.' Then I'll put a bag over my head and walk off. I dunno... It wasn't a bad film. It wasn't the best either. It'll fall into the category between mediocrity and memorable, I'll get round to reading the book before I judge it much more. It was long and I'm tired, it's past 3am and I'm all out of words that might come together in sentences of any coherence. I think I've rambled enough. I bid you adieu.
Friday 19 October 2012
Vox Celeste
Spent the day at the CAB, the morning was alright, everyone in my face-to-face were just facing debt problems but the afternoon on the phones was heartbreaking. There was a woman who had lost a lot of money due to no fault of her own, dodgy company, and she had to borrow off her grandparents and she felt terrible and cried about it. She was my age and I felt so bad for her. Managed to help her on her way to a small court claim.
Then there was an old woman who's husband had died of a sudden bout of cancer and there were disputes over the will and she was going to lose out on everything because of some greedy so-and-so's, she cried too. It's so hard to maintain any level of composure when people are crying down the phone. I managed to direct her to a solicitor and give her a wealth of information about wills, it didn't seem like enough but I tried with every fibre to give her the most help I could without going against the rules.
I worked at the Samaritans for the briefest of periods but I couldn't handle it, I was 18 and I was hyper-emotional because my sister had... Well there were reasons I ended up breaking down and not being able to continue there. I had mega-flashbacks today. What matters is that I definitely helped both of them and I didn't make things worse.
Then I went for a walk and got lost under a canopy of trees for about an hour, it was relaxing, it helped. There hasn't been a time where I felt so relaxed in a while, just walking, not seeing the cars or the buildings for a little while meant I could have been wherever I wanted, it could have been the park back home. It wasn't but sometimes it's easier to pretend you're anywhere else. Plus there was a load of students playing rugby, thrilling to observe. Good thing was my soundtrack was Deerhunter. Bad thing was I literally got lost and iOS6 maps did not assist me as well as I'd have liked. Luckily with my keen sense of direction and determination I found my way back. Stood at Millenium Square with a big gaping grin of relief and delight, no one walking past knew what was wrong with me. Why am I telling you this? Because I'm still chuffed I found my way back to my apartment without completely losing myself. Plus I didn't cry. Major improvement. Good day.
Friday 12 October 2012
Wednesday 10 October 2012
Summation
My day off can be broken into several parts. All boring, let's give them a swift and cursory run through.
Boyfriend left for work, see a blurry face which has a familiar smile say good bye to me, only fully awake when he locked the door.
Lying in bed waiting for my alarm to go off, it didn't, felt like I was lying awake for a stupidly long time, watched sunlight weakly creep through curtains, attempted counting sheep, felt like the most boring person on the planet.
Cracked on knitting yet another scarf, I can crank them out when I've got nothing else to do, all it affords me is time to watch television, or today catching up with american television I promised I wouldn't watch. Got through the first few episodes of The Mindy Project (hated it), Ben and Kate (didn't hate it), Go On (infuriated by it) and caught up with 90210 (the worst kind of escapism) Revenge (escapism of the best kind) and The Thick of it (my rationale behind not going into politics) and rewatched my favourite episode of Parade's End (warmed the cockles of my heart.) Got a fair bit of scarf done.
Mother texted and said she'd call me today, that'll be in twenty minutes, frantically showered and put on clothes, feel strangely worried she knows when I talk to her in a state of undress, she gets weird, weirder than normal. It'll be so she can bitch about my sister not moving out, about my dad just acting like he doesn't care, or that whole part of the family we're not inviting to Christmas any more, or the X-Factor/Strictly Come Dancing/Downton Abbey, I already told her I don't watch the X-Factor hopefully that will be rescinded. If she runs out on these topics (rarely) she'll ask me how I am. I'll avoid telling her about whatever stupid thing I've done recently, I will staunchly declare that I am fine, I will not fall into the trap of telling her anything that is bothering me and that she could get drunk and tell the rest of my family about. I'm still avoiding returning home after the last incident where I broke down over the phone to her, luckily when she came to visit she brought my dad, they called me plenty of wonderful things. Nothing would feel more like home than returning in a blaze of glory and engaging in a blazing row with my family about mum's big mouth and my emotional mistakes... Probably won't make me feel better like the good old days where everything could be solved by getting drunk and screaming at one another until someone storms out of the house and threatens divorce/suicide/emancipation, the big three. God those were the days where I was essential... I was the glue that stopped them killing each other... Except I've been gone a year and turns out they don't need me as much as I thought, they're still working just fine plodding along, sad and with their ongoing problems but still functioning, plus they can still have a blazing row without me. Can't say I'm not slightly jealous. Wish I could get upset about something and manifest a row out of thin air in order to rage against every damn thing that has upset me and hurl insults at my loved ones, then we'd wake up in the morning and act like nothing happened and just get on with it. In my quest to avoid turning into my mother I've avoided this practise, turns out I do other things to vent my frustration and confusion, bad things. At least that's all I can figure after going a whole year without once arguing viciously and uninhibited for no other reason than I had a bad day.
Currently I'm just finding other outlets for whatever is upsetting me, talking to people isn't a good option. I tried to start a conversation with someone new yesterday, sounded like I'd burned my tongue, didn't help that he was 19 and adorable, I just managed to sound like an utter prat. Conversations can be so tricky, especially when your conversations turn immediately to 'Ugh, I can't talk today. Ignore me.' And thus you are politely laughed at and then ignored. End of the story would be we had a conversation, I sounded like an old woman, he was young and so sweet, we had nothing in common. Turns out that is knitting and sitting in coffee shops with my headphones and reading material avoiding eye contact with people is pretty much all I enjoy lately.
Broke the hoover whilst listening to really loud Chopin with headphones on, was bizarre sequence where I felt like life was mocking me as I tried to put the messy pieces together and the music sounded endlessly sad. Turns out it's not broken, or I fixed it, or something! Success!
Going to see Looper tonight, expect a crappy review no one will read up tomorrow when I am once again free from work and with nothing to do. Expect my day to be much like this one, except without the call from my mother (no reason to get dressed) and the ruminations about how things used to be. I've been nostalgic for months now, it's getting to the point where I miss what my life used to be even though in hindsight, all the arguing and crying down the phone to various family members about my parent's non-existent divorce was pretty crap. Oh and in the phone call with mother today to my mother she reminded me about their 25th wedding anniversary, had a mini-flashback of all those phone calls with everyone else, told I'd get her a nice card.
Had an idea for my novel, probably won't work on it until much later, no idea how to start it. Usually the start is the easiest bit, but this year I want a middle, a really good one, the end will come later I'm sure! Decided it'll have an interchangeable cast, fleshing characters out always scares me. The core idea is a good one though, I think, did I mention it would probably work better as a stage play? If NaNoWriMo fails then I'll use it for my screenplay!
Boyfriend left for work, see a blurry face which has a familiar smile say good bye to me, only fully awake when he locked the door.
Lying in bed waiting for my alarm to go off, it didn't, felt like I was lying awake for a stupidly long time, watched sunlight weakly creep through curtains, attempted counting sheep, felt like the most boring person on the planet.
Cracked on knitting yet another scarf, I can crank them out when I've got nothing else to do, all it affords me is time to watch television, or today catching up with american television I promised I wouldn't watch. Got through the first few episodes of The Mindy Project (hated it), Ben and Kate (didn't hate it), Go On (infuriated by it) and caught up with 90210 (the worst kind of escapism) Revenge (escapism of the best kind) and The Thick of it (my rationale behind not going into politics) and rewatched my favourite episode of Parade's End (warmed the cockles of my heart.) Got a fair bit of scarf done.
Mother texted and said she'd call me today, that'll be in twenty minutes, frantically showered and put on clothes, feel strangely worried she knows when I talk to her in a state of undress, she gets weird, weirder than normal. It'll be so she can bitch about my sister not moving out, about my dad just acting like he doesn't care, or that whole part of the family we're not inviting to Christmas any more, or the X-Factor/Strictly Come Dancing/Downton Abbey, I already told her I don't watch the X-Factor hopefully that will be rescinded. If she runs out on these topics (rarely) she'll ask me how I am. I'll avoid telling her about whatever stupid thing I've done recently, I will staunchly declare that I am fine, I will not fall into the trap of telling her anything that is bothering me and that she could get drunk and tell the rest of my family about. I'm still avoiding returning home after the last incident where I broke down over the phone to her, luckily when she came to visit she brought my dad, they called me plenty of wonderful things. Nothing would feel more like home than returning in a blaze of glory and engaging in a blazing row with my family about mum's big mouth and my emotional mistakes... Probably won't make me feel better like the good old days where everything could be solved by getting drunk and screaming at one another until someone storms out of the house and threatens divorce/suicide/emancipation, the big three. God those were the days where I was essential... I was the glue that stopped them killing each other... Except I've been gone a year and turns out they don't need me as much as I thought, they're still working just fine plodding along, sad and with their ongoing problems but still functioning, plus they can still have a blazing row without me. Can't say I'm not slightly jealous. Wish I could get upset about something and manifest a row out of thin air in order to rage against every damn thing that has upset me and hurl insults at my loved ones, then we'd wake up in the morning and act like nothing happened and just get on with it. In my quest to avoid turning into my mother I've avoided this practise, turns out I do other things to vent my frustration and confusion, bad things. At least that's all I can figure after going a whole year without once arguing viciously and uninhibited for no other reason than I had a bad day.
Currently I'm just finding other outlets for whatever is upsetting me, talking to people isn't a good option. I tried to start a conversation with someone new yesterday, sounded like I'd burned my tongue, didn't help that he was 19 and adorable, I just managed to sound like an utter prat. Conversations can be so tricky, especially when your conversations turn immediately to 'Ugh, I can't talk today. Ignore me.' And thus you are politely laughed at and then ignored. End of the story would be we had a conversation, I sounded like an old woman, he was young and so sweet, we had nothing in common. Turns out that is knitting and sitting in coffee shops with my headphones and reading material avoiding eye contact with people is pretty much all I enjoy lately.
Broke the hoover whilst listening to really loud Chopin with headphones on, was bizarre sequence where I felt like life was mocking me as I tried to put the messy pieces together and the music sounded endlessly sad. Turns out it's not broken, or I fixed it, or something! Success!
Going to see Looper tonight, expect a crappy review no one will read up tomorrow when I am once again free from work and with nothing to do. Expect my day to be much like this one, except without the call from my mother (no reason to get dressed) and the ruminations about how things used to be. I've been nostalgic for months now, it's getting to the point where I miss what my life used to be even though in hindsight, all the arguing and crying down the phone to various family members about my parent's non-existent divorce was pretty crap. Oh and in the phone call with mother today to my mother she reminded me about their 25th wedding anniversary, had a mini-flashback of all those phone calls with everyone else, told I'd get her a nice card.
Had an idea for my novel, probably won't work on it until much later, no idea how to start it. Usually the start is the easiest bit, but this year I want a middle, a really good one, the end will come later I'm sure! Decided it'll have an interchangeable cast, fleshing characters out always scares me. The core idea is a good one though, I think, did I mention it would probably work better as a stage play? If NaNoWriMo fails then I'll use it for my screenplay!
Friday 5 October 2012
The Perks of Being a Wallflower
A film I went to see on a whim, a film which can essentially be summed up in a word: Nostalgia. Main reason I crawled out of bed on my day off to see it? Morbid curiosity, plus I now live exactly one minute from the cinema so no excuse if I want to see a film on a whim. Unfortunately I got to the cinema a few minutes late and discovered to my horror it was full of students and 12 year olds, are they on holiday again? Did no one mention this to me? I wanted to hurl my shoes at them, they were a loud obnoxious bunch... In fairness it's the first day it's out, not sure what I was thinking... I do usually love sitting in an empty theatre on my own with my feet up and freedom of movement. Or at least being able to openly cheer. I should schedule my cinema trips better.
So this is a unique film for a couple of reasons, first would be that this is the first book to film adaptation that I've seen in a while which actually has the original author of the novel directing their own film, for me. Therefore I would expect a great level of respect for the original material and a little bit extra flair in the interpretation. Not that I had read the book, but to this end I expected it to be good, instead of a barely explained plot threads that left hanging and a stupid scene to scene expository dialogue which make little to no sense to people who haven't been privy to the original text.
Then there is the main players, predominantly the dazzling Emma Watson and intriguing Ezra Miller and that kid who played Percy Jackson. Oh and Egg... I mean Mae Whitman. Also there is the soundtrack, the books, the all around pretentious, these are universally accepted as cool by the right kind of people therefore we all respect and secretly admire them for their awesome taste, you know... That kind of thing. Appreciating literature, The Smiths and having inexplicably messed up personal history unites the characters and propels the film forward, well actually making shitty teenage decisions moves the film forward, but it's all there.
Ok, the basic premise is that the main character Charlie is beginning his time as a freshman at high school, his best friend killed himself a few months before, he's on edge, afraid to put himself out there, plus he has a past of awkward relations with his aunt. Fortunately there is a colourful Ezra Miller lighting up his wood craft class, he's a senior but hey who cares, they soon become friends, he meets his step-sister, they love 'good' music, they are outrageous and passionate crazed folks who celebrate being exciting fun and unique. All three of the main characters have had traumatic pasts with regards to their relationships, but it probably should be stressed that their issues stem through the faults of others and the fact that the characters simply love the people they feel they 'deserve' - aw schucks. Poor Ezra Miller. But then it doesn't matter, they have music, they have passion, they have each other. Oh and these kids love making and giving each other mix tapes, it's a thing, they all do it, it's a forgotten art.
Best to start with the core three, and to begin with my biggest gripe and disappointment and unfortunately the weak link. Oh Emma Watson, everyone has been so polite about her performance, most have given her the cursory passing grade for outgrowing Hermione and being someone else. I must stress, she was someone else, she was not Hermione, but she still wasn't quite acting like a believable human being. The girl is beautiful, I'll accept Charlie's head over heels infatuation with her on that respect, who wouldn't love Emma Watson, the most truthful statement about her in this film is that she has beautiful brown eyes. We are supposed to believe that her character, Sam, is this beautiful fucked up girl, she was a bit of a smutty mess in her earlier years, she had some hard times, she struggles to concentrate at school, she's a beautiful mess. It's all said, all implied, all explained, and I wanted to believe it in her performance, not one bit of it reached her beautiful eyes, her voice... anything, or at least I didn't see it. Shame too. She did so well at mastering an American accent yet she managed to avoid conveying anything more than stoicism and the occasional bleat of emotion. Don't argue with me and claim that's how her character has learnt to cope, or that's just how she is. She has a crazy passionate and ludicrous side to her that knows dance routines with her step-brother, cheers at football games and loves to have a good old party, yet Emma Watson doesn't quite have the charisma nor charm to convey that part of her character. Plus watching that girl kiss is just... awkward... She just can't sell passion.
In complete contrast to his sister 'step-sister' Ezra Miller lights up the screen with every single second he is on screen. My unbridled affection for this man's performance is the shining of beacon of hope throughout this film. Going from being in the visceral and disturbing We Need to Talk About Kevin to this, a likeable and outrageous senior at high school, now that takes great skill. My common complaint about actors is that they never quite convince me of their existence as real people within the confines of their world, plus long camera shots at stoic faces as the actors desperately try to convey something dramatic always forces me to scream 'ACTING' at the screen, somewhat sarcastically, especially if the given actors are failing miserably at looking anything less than a little bit spaced - I'm looking at Tobey Maguire oh and Emma Watson... Sorry guys. Ezra Miller needs none of my goading, the boy can act and I would let him act all over me.... Wait I had a point here... Flawless, the boy is flawless, he lights up every scene, even the most contrived, perfection it must be said. It doesn't bare much to go into the plot of the film in order to describe why Ezra Miller is so good but it's needless to say he brings shades of light and dark to his character which can only be conveyed through skill, so, yeah I could wax lyrical about how convinced I was about Patrick's existence in this universe, even to the extent where I would suspend my disbelief to allow that he would accept the vulnerable and impressionable and most importantly young Charlie into his friendship circle. He saw something in Charlie which prevented him from allowing the age-gap and inexperience from abandoning the kid, he even tried to impart what wisdom he had on him, ultimately revealing how vulnerable he was himself to Charlie and sharing with him. All the cornerstones of friendship but most importantly extremely fun to watch.
Another strong case for this film largely succeeding is the strength of it's lead, Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief playing Charlie... Wait he has a name (cursory glance at IMDb) ok... It's actually Logan Lerman. In fairness he a perfect lead, a blend of a face you didn't want to punch and a sincerity you could invest in, a damaged kid but indescribably sweet you simply wanted to root for. He made mistakes, we all do, he handled them less than gracefully but he's growing and that's the point, we're all learning right there with him, even if we know the lessons he is facing with wide-eyed sorrow. He never once loses his passion for escape be it through music, literature or fantasising about a certain brown eyed girl. An admirable lead, and did I mention I didn't want to punch his face? It's a good sign for a coming of age film.
So the plot meanders through Charlie's first year of high school, he's hanging out with seniors, always a bust move as they'll be moving on at the end of year, but still he gets all those high school experiences crammed into one year; they get him drunk, high, loved up, rejected, kissed, almost de-flowered, he gets in a fist-fight and he has a bit of a gay moment to cap it off. Can't say I'm not impressed but it wouldn't be a 'coming of age' film without a reliance on all the go to stations of growing up. It's not that I'm criticising the film for insisting in jamming all of this in, it's just something that stuck out to me, this is what happens when you're young and a bit crazed and most of the time it all happens ridiculously fast. I won't say it's realistic but then again all of this can and probably did happen to someone, it's the dramas we all find ourselves thrust into at some point. It handles them adeptly and weaves them in without any of it feeling forced, although as much as I love a trip to the Rocky Horror Picture Show as anyone, it was a little bit too far... Still, get to see Emma Watson in her bra, Ezra Miller in heels and fishnets... Why am I complaining?
Of course there is the incredibly carefully selected soundtrack. It's possible to fall in love with someone who loves the same music as you, music that makes you feel amazing, true stories. The fact that the three of the main characters can't pin one of David Bowie's most well known songs seemed to be a little far-fetched, and this is someone who knew the song from when I was a small child for no other reason than it used to be on the radio in my grandad's car nearly every time I was in it. This was during the early 90s too, come on guys, it's Bowie! Still, if there were a better 'tunnel song' then I doubt I could think of one. Fine, I'll let them off, but why couldn't they just know this was a great song, not just dance around the fact. Apart from that the soundtrack will likely be torrented by people who likely already have all the songs on their iPods already. Not that that won't stop them.
The Perks of Being a Wallflower is a film which appears to be about misfits, it's about the people who feel like they don't fit, who don't deserve happiness, love, yet who find joy in music, each other and freedom of expression. It's a film about bloody teenagers doing and feeling what they want. I was sitting in the cinema feeling nostalgic for when I thought The Smiths were the best thing I'd ever heard, when I first read Catcher in the Rye and felt something, when I first got drunk and I lay in the grass and thought, 'Well shit.' It's just about life being messy and getting the hell on with it and loving it, every coming of age film ever you say, yes, but this one has a retro soundtrack and a gorgeous set of main characters. It has some sad emotional journeys to drag you through, not unfamiliar ones, and that's why it works; it works for people of an age, people who can recall what the characters were feeling and recognise the culture they were immersed in, so probably not the 12 year olds giggling at the back of cinema, but all the students and everyone else in there. I felt a pang of recognition at Charlie's first kiss, almost made me cry, I felt the pain when he was cast aside by his friends, luckily he had his redemption so I muttered he was a lucky bastard under my breath but yeah, I got swept along with it. My issue was that as I have officially been out of the cinema 6 hours and it has taken me nearly three of those to try type this up, I felt something in the cinema, it quickly dissipated and that's my problem, it didn't get any more than skin deep. By tomorrow I'll have slept it off and will simply recall the film as good, not bad. Perhaps it's me, I want more from my films. Perhaps it was an admirable effort, perhaps it was really good but I am easily distracted... Probably.
Oh! Oh! And this will be the 1am delirium talking but I forgot:
What are the perks of being a wallflower?
I hear you ask?
You see all, you're an observer, you learn more from observing. Is this the truth? I don't think the film would have you believe this as our main guy learns way more from doing... But I've always been a fan of sitting back and watching. Doing stuff is tiring, and hard work, and easier to fuck up, been there done that, I prefer the wallflower. But the film thinks it's better to live. Whose advice are you more likely to take? In the long run, really?
Oh! Oh! And this will be the 1am delirium talking but I forgot:
What are the perks of being a wallflower?
I hear you ask?
You see all, you're an observer, you learn more from observing. Is this the truth? I don't think the film would have you believe this as our main guy learns way more from doing... But I've always been a fan of sitting back and watching. Doing stuff is tiring, and hard work, and easier to fuck up, been there done that, I prefer the wallflower. But the film thinks it's better to live. Whose advice are you more likely to take? In the long run, really?
Tuesday 2 October 2012
A Typical Day at the Citizen's Advice Bureau
I have the sniffles, bad cold! Laptop still broken. Head pounding, all morning dealing with people who are making benefits claims, from the depressing to the pervy and so on. Last assessment walks in. Goes as follows:
Client wants to dispute parking ticket. Claims that the warden filled it in wrong. Proceeds to spend about ten minutes acting out his parking skills with chairs and drawing diagrams to prove innocence. I am the complete and utter professional, sit in chair, observe, stoic collected. Collapse laughing, he laughs along, we spend about another ten minutes laughing hysterically at each other. Look up online about his problem. Good news, he can contest the ticket. Feel strangely uplifted, such a nice man. Walls are very thin at CAB, other volunteers will probably think I've gone mad...
NB: the guy was actually in the wrong, his car was way out of the lines, he was just hoping to get a discount on the ticket because the warden filled it in wrong. It had his license number wrong and it claimed he was parked on yellow lines instead in actuality he was just way out of line in a parking space. So yeah, he was a bit of a cheating bugger. Hence the hilarity.
Client wants to dispute parking ticket. Claims that the warden filled it in wrong. Proceeds to spend about ten minutes acting out his parking skills with chairs and drawing diagrams to prove innocence. I am the complete and utter professional, sit in chair, observe, stoic collected. Collapse laughing, he laughs along, we spend about another ten minutes laughing hysterically at each other. Look up online about his problem. Good news, he can contest the ticket. Feel strangely uplifted, such a nice man. Walls are very thin at CAB, other volunteers will probably think I've gone mad...
NB: the guy was actually in the wrong, his car was way out of the lines, he was just hoping to get a discount on the ticket because the warden filled it in wrong. It had his license number wrong and it claimed he was parked on yellow lines instead in actuality he was just way out of line in a parking space. So yeah, he was a bit of a cheating bugger. Hence the hilarity.
Monday 1 October 2012
Advancement
Got drunk on Saturday night, among other regrettable incidents I stood on my laptop and the screen is officially cracked and broken. Used the time I had not on my laptop pondering. There's a deep self-loathing running through me, a vein of untapped creative resources, so I came up with an idea for a story.
People walk along and are faced with a decision and then their future selves zap in front of them and say 'Do/Don't do this, it worked out so well for me.' Then they'll disappear, the people take the advice and die. The idea was their future selves were ghosts and they were tricking them. Ghosts do that, or at least did in the Middle Ages according to an essay I once wrote for a module at University I didn't turn up to. Someone investigates. Would be a really good plot for a serialised sci-fi show. Or a horror film like Final Destination. It wasn't a well thought out idea but lots of funny scenarios came to mind. All of which were dark in humour and a bit disturbing. Now all the people who end up looking at my blog because you're redirected from ad-sense, tell me that's not a good idea!
Oh and while I was thinking his I decided to graduate from Haikus to Limericks. I'm that versatile folks. Here's what I've got so far.
There was an old man called Lester,
Who once used to work as a jester,
He danced for the queen,
In a coat from James Dean,
Until he learnt to his dismay it was polyester.
A chap from Bangor was a blessing,
He loved to keep everyone guessing,
He went out for a laugh,
He made a big gaffe,
They've learnt he's really distressing.
A lady met a man who was spotted,
He was ugly but she was besotted,
They made love for a week,
She would whimper and squeak,
Oh how she loved being motted.
There was a young couple from Reading,
Who were having a wonderful wedding,
She had a wicked smile,
They were gone for a while,
They were later found knotted in bedding.
There was an old crone called Joan,
Who owned the right to moan,
She'd rant and she'd rave,
Attention she'd crave,
But all that left her was alone.
There was a chap called Archibald,
Who acted incredibly ribald,
He used to be something,
But that was the spring,
Now all the girls are appalled.
Once upon a time there was a ghost,
Who couldn't finish off this blog post,
It's so hard to type,
When everything's tripe,
To be fair these poems are shit.
Damnit limericks are supposed to be dirty or funny, two things these are not. I'll get back to you. I tried dirty... failed miserably.
People walk along and are faced with a decision and then their future selves zap in front of them and say 'Do/Don't do this, it worked out so well for me.' Then they'll disappear, the people take the advice and die. The idea was their future selves were ghosts and they were tricking them. Ghosts do that, or at least did in the Middle Ages according to an essay I once wrote for a module at University I didn't turn up to. Someone investigates. Would be a really good plot for a serialised sci-fi show. Or a horror film like Final Destination. It wasn't a well thought out idea but lots of funny scenarios came to mind. All of which were dark in humour and a bit disturbing. Now all the people who end up looking at my blog because you're redirected from ad-sense, tell me that's not a good idea!
Oh and while I was thinking his I decided to graduate from Haikus to Limericks. I'm that versatile folks. Here's what I've got so far.
There was an old man called Lester,
Who once used to work as a jester,
He danced for the queen,
In a coat from James Dean,
Until he learnt to his dismay it was polyester.
A chap from Bangor was a blessing,
He loved to keep everyone guessing,
He went out for a laugh,
He made a big gaffe,
They've learnt he's really distressing.
A lady met a man who was spotted,
He was ugly but she was besotted,
They made love for a week,
She would whimper and squeak,
Oh how she loved being motted.
There was a young couple from Reading,
Who were having a wonderful wedding,
She had a wicked smile,
They were gone for a while,
They were later found knotted in bedding.
There was an old crone called Joan,
Who owned the right to moan,
She'd rant and she'd rave,
Attention she'd crave,
But all that left her was alone.
There was a chap called Archibald,
Who acted incredibly ribald,
He used to be something,
But that was the spring,
Now all the girls are appalled.
Once upon a time there was a ghost,
Who couldn't finish off this blog post,
It's so hard to type,
When everything's tripe,
To be fair these poems are shit.
Damnit limericks are supposed to be dirty or funny, two things these are not. I'll get back to you. I tried dirty... failed miserably.
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