Just not cricket.

Hello My-Little-Place-On-The-Net-Devoid-Of-Life.

Been a while since I have taken the time to write or update this blog, but I have been busy enough to warrant an excuse. We’ve reached the point in British springtime when we can divulge whether this is going to be a nice summer or not, and considering the charmingly warm spring we have enjoyed so far, I think it is safe to say that we can look forward to a pretty grim summer. But it doesn’t have to be that way. We can now take off our thoughtful borguois tricorns and leave that arthouse cinema with the pretentious plush red seats and the expensive bar and head on down to the Multiplex, mess with the proles and thoroughly enjoy the mound of ostensibly fun blockbusters that require no appreciation of the ‘fine arts’ other than how to grin at an explosion.

To try and make this a slightly productive summer for myself in some capacity, I am going to try and write a few reviews for the big films I have seen, and maybe the smaller ones I see in retrospect or simply add to my Dvvduh collection. For example, my Iron Man ‘review’ - I prefer to call it a reaction considering my credentials - is now posted in the Eat Me Critics sect and having seen Indy IV for the second time yesterday, perhaps it is ripe to write up my ‘review’ to that. My reaction however, it something of a casual fan glad to see that Indy’s heritage has not been trounced upon. Scathing Cannes reviews were expected of course, but most press reviews have since been positive, although fan reactions remain mixed.

I liked Indy IV. It was familiar territory, led by a familiar old soul, into more familiar MacGuffin territory, through some familiar experiences set in unfamiliar ground. Yes, it is familiar. I don’t care. It is Indiana Jones, and if you take ‘I don’t care, it’s Indy’ as a reason rather than a cop-out, then you will enjoy it. I read Roger Ebert’s review after seeing the film for the first time and am glad to see he liked it. His reviews on films are so-so to me - sometimes I just plain disagree with the bloke - but his writing makes for a fun read and I can hardly doubt his integrity. In his review, he remarked upon a line that a wisened Ford makes; “same old, same old.” He is right of course; it is the same old stuff, and I loved it.

Most of the criticisms I have seen for the film from casual schoolboy critics remark upon certain ’stretchings of belief’ that I feel I am not at liberty to divulge in case of spoiling the film for you. I just do not admire criticism such as that, especially when Spielberg (who I must say was certainly on form during this shoot - it shows) offers an olive branch to bridge the gap between what is happening on screen and the audiences suspense of belief.

Other criticisms fall before the way side of course, because, like any self respecting audience member, I can abide the reason “Its Indiana Jones!” While it has always offered fun and enjoyment to a large slice of the audience, Indy has always been a treat for those who really enjoy film. It is packed so full of cinematic references that it almost runs like a tour through cinematic history. From the exotic adventure films of Errol Flyn and Charlton Heston (’must say, sad that he is now deceased. I wasn’t a fan of his ideals, but he left a lot of friends and his integrity as an actor is undeniable) in Raiders of the Lost Ark, to the musical and James Bond homages (Temple of Doom), the rip-roaring chases and stunts that reminds us of Stagecoach, Ben-Hur et al (evident in all the films) and the appearance of the noir femme fatale in Elsa Schneider, Spielberg and Lucas have packed these films full of their own love of film as a medium and cultural palette. It just offers a lot more than, say, Star Wars in that sense, as well as being undeniably less geeky.

The new film, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (the title has grown on me considerably sincd it was announced by the way) is no less choc-a-bloc in that sense. Dealing with a new era, although at first a tad disparaging for devoted fans of the 30s romps, allows for new intertextuality, in-jokes and homages. An American Graffitti reference, as well as a marvellous scene itself, was one of the highlights of the film itself for me. I’m glad that the script (although certainly not the best of the Jones scripts) allows for some cultural references worthy of a chuckle. 50s momism, the nuclear family and the suburban household are all given the nuclear treatment by Spielberg, being obliterated in the opening act with no mercy, as Indy wanders into a Nuclear test site filled with eerie plastic dolls posing as the 50s middle class. ‘I like Ike’ also shows its face with barbed wit from Ford and then as a motif during the nuclear explosion.

Of course, the Soviets rear their head as the pantomime-villains-of-the-era, partly to Spielberg’s admittance that there really is no one else with the villainous credentials. Obviously, this has angered members of Communist parties the world over, particuarly those in Russia, but again, to Spielberg’s defense, he lets us remind ourselves that he himself is of Russian descent. For me, the Soviet’s work to an extent in Crystal Skull. They seem to fit the mould of the Nazi replacement and Cate Blanchett, as usual, is amazing as the dangerous, sexless looking Soviet, Colonel Irena Spalko. But at the same time, I don’t feel the Soviet’s are half as threatening as the Nazi party. Perhaps it takes someone born on the eve of the Iron Curtain’s collapse to make that claim, but the Soviet’s fill the antagonising role in what I have always seen as a ‘grey area’ in history. Admittedly, David Koepp’s script certainly acknowledges this; even while pursued by the KGB on American soil, Dr.Jones, ‘even with his War record’ an investigator states, is under suspicion of treason by the FBI. A spectular chase sequence through the Dr.Jones’ University allows for protestors with signs such as ‘Red is Dead’ to run in terror as Dr.Jones’ (on motorbike) is pursued by KGB agents in cars.

Certainly, there is more to say for the film, its strengths and its flaws, but really, if you take ‘It’s Indiana Jones for god’s sake!’ as a reason, rather than an excuse, it won’t matter to you.

‘Mend Broken Politics’ - words of a hypocrite.

Am I the only one who finds David Cameron utterly repulsive? The fact that the Tories have the ability to court younger generations of Politicians into their ranks is a scary thought by my book. The party is and always will harbour back to out-dated rhetoric and reactionary squabbling because the Conservative party is and always will be a bunch of moronic toffs jettisoning concern for others in light of “daddy’s” wishes.

But the resurgence of a yuppie culture, of younger politicians spouting the ideas of shabby old Oxford’ites is distressing, if anything because you can see it working. David Cameron is only one of many young Eton lads curbtailing it up the political ladder, as old hats fall off the chain and break down under allegation after allegation, but as leader of the second biggest party in Britain, and concerns over PM Brown’s last few months, it certainly isn’t nice to have him around.

Just the other day, he attacked New Labour’s “systematic culture of spin,” a “culture” he has not only acknowledged here, but fully endorsed. The man’s a walking PR portfolio in him self. Not only in the giving of soundbites (in which he is exemplary), but also in his “getting down with the kids” attitude that, while utterly failing, certainly shows he has some in his PR team who actually know what kids are. That in itself is suprising. Shocking even.

Speaking at a conference on Wales, he even pulled the perfect opportunity dig at Labour; “top-down, centralising control.” Well, way to breach new ground Mr. Cameron. I don’t think I have heard that claim for a good few weeks. Of course, as a relatively close relation to the Royal Family, you can expect a slight strut in his step, but someone should remind “my honourable Cavalier” that he does not own the place.

Again, my dear Mr. Cameron please, please, please leave the political spectrum alone for a while and go and do something worthwhile for a few good years of your life. You can re-enter the Tory charade when you are the expected age.

While obviously not as well known in some circles as the Man of Steel, the Tin man and of course the Quartz Rotter himself aka David Cameron, Iron Man has had an interesting and illustrious as a Marvel superhero, yet overshadowed by such pop culture idols as Spiderman and Wolverine. Finally, Tony Stark gets his own slice of the summer action!

This blockbuster season, Iron Man opens in cinemas. It’s one of the recent spate of reasonably well measured superhero films, albeit those have come from Marvel’s rivals DC rather than Marvel themselves. The reignition of the Batman franchise and the solid but underwhelming box office success of Superman Returns have shown that the Superhero movie can get some decent credentials on its side and deliver. I can only hope that the efforts shaping up for a summer release begin a lasting trend, because let’s face it, everyone loves a Superhero movie from time to time.

Iron Man couldn’t have got off to a better start than by signing the eclectric Roberty Downey Jr. as main man Tony Stark, while Marvel’s “other” summer release, The Incredible Hulk, managed to snap up Edward Norton. While the basic premise of Iron Man may not refrain critics from sniggering a bit (Rich man lives a playboy lifestyle, rich man gets kidnapped, rich man builds a robotic suit in captivity, rich man exacts revenge) the newly released trailer offers probably the best and least cringeworthy look at the film so far.

While throwaway Metal music still exists in the trailer (which means critics shake their heads and the idiot demographic gets their tits on) the use of AC/DC and Audioslave (used brilliantly in Collateral my Michael Mann) does get a thumbs up from me. Robert Downey Jr. seems a natural fit in the role of Stark, given his heavy dose of charisma and charm, while obviously he is able to handle the more dramatic, plot driven scenes. It’s Robert Downey Jr. for christs sake.

It has been confirmed that the character’s descent into depression and alchoholism (Stark, not Downey Jr.) will not show its face in Starks virgining heroic exploits this time round. Hopefully if Iron Man delivers and warrants a sequel (or makes enough doe) then hopefully we will get to see some of the more human attributes of Tony Stark.

Indeed, his flaws and battles with self depreciation, alchoholism and loss are what makes the man behind the suit relatively more interesting than, to pick an example, The Fantastic Four. Spiderman hit a niche and then a mainstream appeal because of its melodramatic dealings with teenage life; Peter Parker was a normal teenager with normal teenage problems. Iron Man strikes a different cord in itself, wrapping itself in a nervous shell of a grown man with problems that Peter Parker could never dream of. Obviously, Downey Jr. would nail the the more intrinsic, tragic nature of a man trapped behind a suit, welling up inside with self abuse and alchoholism. That is if he signed on for sequels.

The marketing team seem to have come up with a bit of a curious dilemma with the Iron Man title ident though.

Blocky, dullen and square, the ident is not aesthetically pleasing. If this was the 80s/early 90s, I can see where they would be coming from, but the title neither has enough “rust” to make it interesting to the eye, nor shiny enough to evoke a more pleasing reaction. The choice of iron is hardly inspired, yet it could at least hold a greater hook than it does here. However, who am I to criticise an ident, especially if the film is generally good in the end. Let us hope it is.

A ride of thrills and kills - Michael Mann’s Collateral

Channel 4 (UK) have recently hit some form on their scheduling on Sunday nights; Kingdom of Heaven, a good if flawed Crusader epic from Sir Ridley Scott set the ball rolling and last Sunday it was the turn of Collateral, one of the best of cops and robbers maestro Michael Mann’s career. Collateral follows a taught, solid structure with an interesting premise: Max (Jamie Foxx in a role that works for a change) is a taxi driver with an optimistic notion that everything will work out in the end, and his life plan begins to fall into place when the “right” woman gets into his cab. Soon after exchanging numbers with the woman, Max picks up Vincent (Tom Cruise showing he still has those actings balls), a hitman with a proposition for Max that he cannot get out of. The acting is pitch perfect from the cast, also including Mark Ruffalo as a cop on the hunt of silver wolf killer, Vincent, but it really is the direction and cinematography, coupled with some of the songs from Mann’s always-interesting scores, that allow this to rise above familiar thriller material.

Case in point, this nightclub scene, using a lot of blue filters and soft lenses, with a killer remix of Paul Oakenfold’s Ready, Set, Go (Koeran I believe).

Enjoy.

Bond Is Gunning For Scottish Independence!

According to retired actor and former James Bond, “Sir” Sean Connery, “Schottlund” will have independence by the end of his lifetime. Let’s hope he has a terrific accident and is kept alive for a few thousand years via suspended animation or even if he merely gets lost on the way to his Tax-evasive villa in Bahamas. Connery has not even lived in his homeland for years, and suddenly he is jumping on the bandwagon for Scottish independence. It seems like a perfect way to cover his hypocritical backside.

The 77 year old actor says Scotland is “within touching distance of independence,” according to BBCnews. Sir Sean Connery is one of the most high profile supporters of the Scottish National Party, whom many account with creating a distinct anti-Englishness sentiment (I had previously thought was simply a genetic trait within most of the Scottish population.) While many know that Anglo-Scottish relations can get a tad petty at times, especially with two Scottish MP’s registering their support to Germany via an online bid during the ‘06 World Cup, even the SNP has been noted to be overly anglophobic by the general populace.

Connery is being incredibly cavalier about the situation however, being known to have made a few outspoken, unjustified and occasionally humurous quips in the past. These comments are also particuarly short sighted and impractical on his behalf, considering no other major parties in Scotland want independence or seperation. If the SNP winged it and managed to pass independence with a majority, they would shortly fall flat under the weight and pressure. The machine just isn’t ready to roll yet. While there is no problem with Scotland gaining equal representation, fully fledged independence is a tad ambitious on there behalf.

Comedian Billy Connelly, an avid Scot himself has declared that “Scottish Parliment is a joke.” While he may not be no political mastermind/spindoctor, I’m willing to take his word on this one. Scottish Parliment have decided after many referendums that Billy Connelly was in fact, taking the piss out of the Parliment, and they will soon begin voting as to he is taking the piss out of specifically.

A vaguely dissapointing evening at the Oscars for one of this decades masterpieces.

Paul Thomas Anderson is a maverick of his trade. His newest offer, There Will Be Blood, garnered Daniel Day-Lewis his second Academy Award last night for Best Actor at the Oscars (his first was for My Left Foot, 1989), while the film itself narrowly missing out (undeservedly I believe) on Best Film to No Country For Old Men, which also saw Joel and Ethan Coen beat P.T Anderson to Best Director (again, undeservedly in my opinion.) One might even say that There Will Be Blood is P.T Anderson’s best yet, a tag the retail DVD may in fact carry. And when you consider that his work portfolio includes the wonderful Boogie Nights, Punch Drunk Love (a film where Adam Sandler isn’t actually annoying) and the brilliant, brilliant Magnolia, you can appreciate it when people speak of Anderson as an autuer this early in his career.

Yet perhaps the greatest travesty of the Oscars this year was that There Will Be Blood’s score, by the engimatic and brilliant Johnny Greenwood (probably better known as Radiohead’s lead guitarist) did not qualify in the category because part of it was sampled. Anyone who has seen There Will Be Blood could testify that the score was literally rivetting, manifesting a dark, brooding undercurrent to every scene, keeping the audience so tense they may have been leashed; Little Boston, California was no Pleasantville. Perhaps the score’s exclusion can serve as another example of “how the Academy simply can’t keep up with the times” - it was a sure fire bet that it would have nabbed the Oscar if it was legible - especially considering some of the nominee’s for Best Score in the past few years.

Anywhom, for fans of the Score or film in general, or even if you are simply curious about the fuss that has been made, the brilliant soundtrack is available for download here:

http://www.megaupload.com/?d=2BC302ZF

If you simply type in the combination of letters in the box when prompted twice, you’ll be able to download it. FYI, I didn’t upload it, I just managed to find a link.

Again, did No Country For Old Men deserve that many Oscars?

Tony Blair is to dish out his pockets and help Rwanda find the private investment it needs to get the economy started!

Of late, Former-MP-Mr.Blair has become an unseen commodity while he takes a good rest from scandals and contreversy. His last few months in 10 Downing Street were a tad muted as the kefuffle with his Chanceoller and supreme-arch-nemesis took the pages of the Sensationalist Daily Mail by storm but his New Labour legacy lives on with the Tories forced to walk on the extreme right side of the road, the Lib Dems. vying for any poltical space at all and his own party taking the firm middle ground.

But not content with leaving a poltical legacy that I am sure I will look back on with fondness, he seems to be striving to make some difference elsewhere in the world, where it counts. Obviously having the Lord of Spin himself on your side is enough to strenghten any regime in Africa, but let us hope he does a good job.

According to the ever persistent, yet ever in flux BBCnews:

“[Blair] has made his first visit to the central African country since offering himself as an unpaid adviser to its president, Paul Kagame.

Mr Blair will now use his international status to promote the opportunities on offer there to foreign investors.

Rwanda is trying to recover from the 1994 genocide, when some 800,000 Tutsis and moderate Hutus were killed.

Mr Blair told a press conference in the Rwandan capital, Kigali, that it was an “exciting” time to be engaged with the country’s development.”

He has had a number of meetings with Mr.Kagame since he left office, perhaps a few intrepid jamming sessions on his guitar too; think Dire Straits meets Earth, Wind and Fire. No doubt the Conservatives will feel the need to get one back at Golden Boy Blair, yet I don’t think we can expect old Jeffrey Archer to pack his bags and set off for Iraq anytime soon. We would sooner have David Cameron pitching a remake of Birth of a Nation to the BFI, or M&S for that fact, the daft git.

In other news, not content with a fat check as it is, MP’s have been into the kitty again. Tory MP Derek Conway gave his student son £40,000 under the guise that he was a “Parlimentary Researcher.” Now, not that the Tories are in anyway hypocritical, of course not, but have they not complained that Students spend most of their Student Loans boozing around in what has strangely been called a boozing epidemic? And yet an MP off loads his son illegally with Forty grand? That’s alot of shots on student nights.

Hypocrisy, yes?

Juno seemed a strikingly sincere film to me. I went to see this awash the whole awards seasons fandango with good grace; I’d heard it was this years off beat comedy, this years Little Miss Sunshine and so on and so on. While it could perhaps detriment the individualism of each film to lump them together in one bundle, Juno is certainly its own film, as the main character is her own person.

Juno, played by a bloody brilliant Ellen Page is a 16-something-girl with a maturity level and enough obscure references to endear any audience. We learn she and her male friend Paulie (played by Michael Cera in another brilliant George Michael Bluth variation) have had sex and subsequently, she has become pregnant. The reasons for this sexual encounter between close friends is never explored, nor is it that important. Nonetheless, we can summise that hormones were raging.

A number of scenario’s play out next, such as telling her parents she is pregnant. While it could easily be played for laughs, or even for melodrama, the screenplay shines at moments like this. Rather than berate their daughter, they take it in their stride, noting that at least she hasn’t got into hard drugs or been arrested. Other circumstances involve Juno tellng a shocked Paulie in good grace, a mishap adventure to the abortion clinic and Juno telling her best friend, who unphasedly fancies her teacher. Juno is funnier than it gives itself credit for.

As Juno’s journey begins to evole, she decides to “do the right thing” and keep the baby, lookng for couples up for adoption. Thus we meet a couple supposedly in the midst of love, yet unable to have children. Jennifer Garner and Jason Bateman (Uncle Mike!) play the couple deftly, Garner as a slightly cool figure who the audience eventually warms up to and Bateman as a trapped ex-musician who seems a little left behind in life. Rightly said, Page spouts out dialogue that will light up smiles in the audience, yet her off-beat ice-breaker meets with confused reactions from the “happy” couple.

The impending case of cold feet for all parties rises and falls as tensions are created and moods arise, as they await the months to dwindle. The film keeps a steady pace all the way through, I can thankfully say I enjoyed every minute of it, and it is not what you could call “nice.” By the end of the film, although a certain off-beat sentimentality seems to have been settled for, it works, complete with “Indier-than-thou” soundtrack in tow.

Considering it follows on from Sideways and Little Miss Sunshine, Juno skirts the line between being “nice,” which implies alot and means almost nothing, and being “quirky,” another new-age term that means bollocks, all successfully. While I myself hope Michael Cera can eventually offer more than his George Michael routine (albiet still loved by me), he does his job and I hope Fox use him more sparingly, or we’ll have overload of awkwardness on our hands. Jason Bateman’s touch is subtle yet likeable as a whole, but nothing can permeate the unsettling implicitness of his and Juno’s relationship as the film goes on; all in all I hope he does well, as Ellen Page’s career seems set for good things, as does Diablo Cody’s if she writes another cracker of a script like this.

People like film, or movies, I get that. What’s great about the cinema is that it is such a global medium, with given exceptions certainly, but it has become a tool for indentifying both ourselves and the world around us. Credit’s due where credit is due; books have and still do a fine job. The newspapers (bar the Daily Mail) have done their part. Radio and the internet are both incredible in their potential for sly whimsy in light of satire, TV too, can gets a heads up when Hollyoaks isn’t on. But really, in my book (Yeah, would you really have me say copy of Empire there?) Cinema tops them all.

This thought occured to me recently when I was shoved in front of a very old (1895 would you have it) and influential film with less of a premise than you could shake gratuities at Michael Bay at. “Rough Sea At Dover” was the name;

“A study of water in motion.”

You can see, if by any chance interested the clip here, I do recommend it. While it may fall dead on some, I felt I could really appreciate the novelty of this film, and believe me, it is a novelty, and that is to its strength. Laymen’s terms, it’s just water moving about BUT I can only stress, with the upmost hyperbole, the beauty the water posseses. And it’s Dover for christ’s sake. Not the most exotic, clean or flattering part of the British coastline (albeit those cliffs are pretty nice). Yet the film restores some beauty in what I for one, probably would not appreciate fully with my own eyes.

And that is simply one of the powers of cinema; to capture our own reality in ways that we could not appreciate. Of course, much of this is known far and wide, even if it is not expressed by the majority, but I felt it was worth noting.

Sadly, the majority of films consumed by the public call bollocks on my opinion.