Winter Soldier
Went to see this at the weekend at the ICA (who I've decided win the prize for snottiest staff ever.)
It was a truly shocking cinematic experience. Not so much because of the - many, gory - atrocities the ex marines talked about in the kind of truth amnesty that was organised. The most shocking thing was the men themselves - strikingly beautiful in their youth and openness - and their own shock. Each of them had this mixture of lucidity and terrible blockage, both in their memory and in the understanding of what they'd experienced.
Also interesting were the different agendas of the attendees. Some clearly wanted a forum for open confession. Others were frustrated that that wasn't purposive or constructive enough. Others again wanted to put the whole thing within a framework of racism.
I'm reading an autobiography from the 50s at the moment, and the other thing that struck me here for the first time, properly, was the effect of changing attitudes towards the sexes in the 60s and 70s. Of course we all know what happened, officially, but things we (some of us) take forgranted now, like it being alright for men to cry. It must have been strange and terrible and liberating and confusing for all kinds of natural behaviour to be condoned, comparatively suddenly.
I understand the veterans came under attack from certain predictable quarters for their appearance (without fail magnificently hirsute), and for the way some of them chose to express themselves. But one section in particular, which on the whole isn't representative of the otherwise very restrained, clear testimonies, made me think we've become way too dictatorial again about how we express ourselves, on the whole. In the hallway, away from the official podium, a discussion about racism had the kind of slightly mad stream of consciousness from which really interesting things come.
I can't explain it better than that, but you should see it if you can (although I think the run at the ICA is over).
the dangers of un-rationalised names
(I'm not saying Cif or Olay were good idea though.)
sunday afternoon
This afternoon I'm baking Neneh Cherry's Ginger Stout Cake and watching The Gay Divorcee. It's about as it good as it gets.
I watch this film once every couple of years, but I must have seen it about 100 times. (I'm not 50, I just used to watch it more often). Not so long ago I could have recited more or less the entire script. Whenever I'd visit my grandmother with my mum, they'd argue about Margaret Thatcher in the kitchen and I'd slope off to watch it. Again and again and again. That and The Red Shoes. So I've always loved both. Now I'm old enough to more or less tell what makes a good film, it turns out The Red Shoes is an acknowledged masterpiece whilst The Gay Divorcee, well, it's standard Astaire Rogers fare really. But as far as I'm concerned it's very, very special.
It's brilliance lies in working the story around the palpable bile the leads had for one another, and in the title that doesn't really work any more. And obviously the dancing. I think this early self-inflicted brainwashing might account for my obsession with Strictly Come Dancing.
Anyway, a nice way to spend an afternoon.
lost
I know many many people fell right out of love with Lost for good when it started - well when it started being no good. But I only ever doubted. I never fell out of love. Partly because we have an odd Stepford Wives style arrangement where we take it in turns to watch it in batches at friends' houses. So when it's bad it doesn't matter. You just talk over it.
But our latest bout proved that it's back on form again after a long stretch of uncertainty. It's the freak again.
So the other day I remembered to look up this video.
Isn't it perfect? Perfect for Lost? This got me really excited when the series first started. I love that it's got Portishead on it. I love it all. (And look how many clues they put in!)
This Life and Scamp on Helen's blog sparked a recent revival of Portishead in my house. And Ben's made me think more about what I see when I hear music. 'Numb' is always played to the images of this video in my head now. (When I used to listen to it as a moody 14 year old, I'd just see a big gong. So it's a vast improvement.)
beat it
I just realised leaving you with anti-drink driving images might not be the best weekend send off. Something a bit more cheery. As long as at one point you were a fan of Michael Jackson.
I've been meaning to work this into a post for ages. But I haven't got a point to go with it. Apart from something lame like There's Nothing Like Working Together. Or something.
Anyway. If you want the really good bit, it starts at about 3.50 mins. I still dream about learning this routine and then invading a dance floor. And tearing it to shreds. Have a nice weekend.
some philippino art direction
I got an email from Windel Aboy today. Asking me to post this film of his. He says it best:
I'm Windel Aboy Art Director from Makati Philippines (Proximity). I want you to showcase my digital shortclips: "KUBO" and other clips from My multiply: the http://windelaboy.multiply.com/video/item/7 because i want to share the talent of a person from a third world country which is that not much updated to current trend in digital age. I want to share my skill to each person which is involved in your community(Blog). Share my cultural heritage, through cyberspace. And I believe that if we share and give way to other talent it opens our gate and broadens our knowledge. Hope you can share it with others and more power to your Blogs.
Here here. (Or is it hear hear? I never know). It's a real treat to get sent stuff like this.
pan's labyrinth
If I don't say anything else this year that's fine, because I will have said go and see this film.
And while I'm at it, see Tideland as well.
Bit bossy. But you'll forgive me when you've seen them.
my new hero
Lots of people know about Julia Davis from Nighty Night. I hadn't seen it. But judging by the BBC's film about Fanny Cradock, the world's first celebrity chef, she's an effing genius. I'm terrified of her. But she's amazing.
I didn't live through the 60's. Enough of it's seeped into my consciousness from parents and grandparents though, and from terrifying surviving relics of decor and attitude for me to feel simultaneously nauseous and delighted watching this. Really incredible. I know everyone gets nostalgic about the 60's and 70's, but there were some truly scary things about them too. An incredible watch.
truly great first line
I don't want to be a product of my environment, I want the environment to be a product of me. (The Departed)
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