Entertainment Essentials: Andy Palacio & The Garifuna Collective - Watina
Sometimes you discover someone wonderful just too late. This week has seen a lot of media coverage about the death of Heath Ledger, an actor that I have to confess I've seen next to nothing of in films. That's largely because I've still never got round to watching Brokeback Mountain, and maybe when I've seen it I'll understand why Ledger was rated so highly. But while his death has gained masses of media coverage, it's another sad event recently that has inspired this blog.
Andy Palacio died on January 19th, and like Ledger he was on the cusp of getting real recognition, even if it was always likely to be a much smaller scale. You've probably never heard of him, and I hadn't until not so long ago when someone recomended his most recent album Watina to me. So now I'm recommending it to you, particularly those of you who are fond of really great 'world music' (terrible genre title though that is).
Palacio was a Belizean singer in the Punta style of Central America and he died in his home country - where he was also a government official and dedicated champion of the culture of his Garifuna people (they were ship-wrecked African slaves who formed an inter-racial community with the people of St Kitts before being expelled to Honduras by the British in 1797). Watina features a more acoustic-led and soulful form of his music, inspired by his Garifuna roots and it is nothing short of a masterpiece.
It's all in his native language, which means that you won't know what the songs are about beyond the English translations of the titles, but that hardly matters because it is the music that makes the emotional impact, particularly on tracks like Baba and Águyuha Nidúheñu. Palacio took inspiration from the Caribbean forms of reggae and soca, parts of Cuban son music and the unmistakable rhythms of Africa to come up with an album that is all about his roots and the roots of his people.
One of the aims of Watina was to ensure that Garifuna culture did not disappear and Watina's success around the world has certainly helped to revive it, with Palacio named as a Unesco Artist For Peace late last year and he and his Garifuna Collective set to be amongst the winners in the Radio 3 Awards For World Music. Sadly, when the award is handed over in April, Palacio will not be there to receive it, but hopefully his death will have one positive effect in that it might spread the word about the wonders of Watina. It's the power of music to inspire a whole people and that is an incredible thing.
Through that, he will continue to be a champion for his people, and if that is the case, then it is never too late to discover Andy Palacio.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Say What?! - The Coens Are Best Outside Of Coenworld
“There's more to life than a little money, ya know. Don'tcha know that? And here ya are. And it's a beautiful day. Well. I just don't understand it.”
The above quote comes from the mouth of pregnant police officer Marge Gunnarson when she is lecturing accosted crook Gaear Grimsrud in a scene which comes close to the end of the Coen Brothers' 1996 masterpiece Fargo. It is, perhaps, slightly unusual to start a blog entry with a quote from the end of a film, and even more so because this particular quote is relatively bland compared to the deliciously witty words the Coens usually write for their actors. But I mention this for a reason.
Watching the writer/director team's latest film, No Country For Old Men, I was reminded of Fargo, and Marge in particular. Based on Cormac McCarthy's 2005 novel, No Country blends the Western with a bit of black comedy, a pinch of thriller and a dash of horror to tell the three-pronged story of the repercussions of a failed drugs deal. The first leg of this tripod of tragedy is Llewelyn Moss, a hapless stooge in the great Coen tradition who stumbles into trouble when he picks up the money from the aforementioned drug job. He's an innocent goon in hopelessly beyond his depth brilliantly portrayed by Josh Brolin. But while he may be the character who instigates the film's chaos, Moss is merely a McGuffin.
Instead, the film's central themes revolve around the two remaining characters. First up is the man who peruses Moss in order to get the cash back, assassin Anton Chigurgh. Played with chilling stillness by Spanish actor Javier Bardem, Chigurh is like the Terminator made flesh, a monosyllabic manifestation of your worst nightmares who will coolly blow up a car just so he can create a diversion to rob a chemist of the supplies he needs to heal a battle wound. It’s another stunning, Oscar-worthy performance, and once you’ve seen it, the question “What time do you go to bed?” will take on new, terrifying meaning.
Caught in the middle of this chase is Tommy Lee Jones' Ed Tom Bell, the aging local sheriff who acts as the benevolent yin to Chigurgh's Satanic yang as hopelessly peruses he and Moss across the Texan borderlands trying to fathom just what kind of man would be capable of Chigurgh's evil. Jones is, as ever, laconically perfect and although the character was created by McCarthy, he feels decidedly Coenesque, comparable, in fact, to Marge. Bell is a traditional kind of guy, a humane man, cut adrift in a world without morals and when he opens the film lamenting the crime that's about to take place, it's impossible not to be reminded of Marge's soulful lecture to Grimsrud.
Fargo and No Country For Old Men are, to my money at least, the Coens’ finest films, and it strikes me as no coincidence that the best words to describe them are humane, moral and soulful. The Coens' critics accuse them of intellectual smugness, of placing their films in a hermetically sealed box that makes audience connection nigh on impossible. While I would certainly disagree with the former point (surely the Coens are too withdrawn to be smug), I find evidence of the latter in the overbearing quirkiness of O’ Brother Where Art Thou, the suffocating intellectual surrealism of Barton Fink and the distancing noir coldness of The Man Who Wasn’t There.
This isn’t to say any of them are bad films (except perhaps O’ Brother - but that’s more to do with my loathing of bluegrass, a musical genre so hideous only an oxymoron could aptly describe it) or that I don‘t enjoy the Coens’ sense of humour (you’d have to be dead not to laugh at The Big Lebowski), only that they will never hold a candle to Fargo and now No Country, because every time I hear George Clooney proclaim himself “a Dapper Dan man” or Fink make another reference to wrestling pictures I hear Joel and Ethan giggling behind camera and see an imaginary brick wall being built between myself and the screen.
There are plenty of reasons to giggle at Fargo and No Country, of course; the accents, the hopelessness of William H Macy’s small-time crook, Javier Bardem’s haircut. But each them is couched in a real world scenario stripped of overt quirks, and seem to communicate something of the characters: a naivety, a desperation, a sense of unpredictable, sociopathic evil. All of these are very real human emotions, allowed to breath thanks to the fact the Coens have poked their heads out of the Coenworld bunker for just long enough to connect with the rest of the world.
Burn After Reading, an original black comedy about a gym instructor who is targeted for assassination after stumbling across an ex-CIA man’s memoirs, will be their next film, and hilarious I’m sure it will be. But it sounds like the brothers are dipping their head back in the bunker again, something I‘m a little disappointed by. The Coens are as good, if not better, at creating moments of touching human connection as they are at moments of surreal comedy, and the endings of both No Country and Fargo prove as much.
The former I won't ruin here (although it's at once brilliantly ambiguous and emotionally touching), but the ending of Fargo (which bears a semi-similar resemblance to No Country's coda) reads:
Norm: They announced it.
Marge They announced it?
Norm: Yeah.
Marge: So?
Norm: Three-cent stamp.
Marge: Your mallard?
Norm: Yeah.
Marge: Oh, that's terrific.
Norm: It's just a three-cent stamp.
Marge: It's terrific.
Norm: Hautman's blue-winged teal got the 29-cent. People don't much use the three-cent.
Marge: Oh, for Pete's sake. Of course they do. Whenever they raise the postage, people need the little stamps.
Bland and unremarkable it may be, but accompanied by a tinkly interpretation of Carter Burwell’s Fargo theme and a beautiful performance from Frances McDormand, it’s the best and most human scene the Coens have ever written, touching upon a nobility and appreciation of simple homelife that they are often deemed too cynical to understand.
Surrealism may have made their name, but you can keep your Soggy Bottom Boys, your Satanic hotels, hell, even The Dude’s beloved rug. Norm’s three-cent mallard is the pinnacle of the Coens’ career, and No Country For Old Men is a sign they can surpass it in the future.
“There's more to life than a little money, ya know. Don'tcha know that? And here ya are. And it's a beautiful day. Well. I just don't understand it.”
The above quote comes from the mouth of pregnant police officer Marge Gunnarson when she is lecturing accosted crook Gaear Grimsrud in a scene which comes close to the end of the Coen Brothers' 1996 masterpiece Fargo. It is, perhaps, slightly unusual to start a blog entry with a quote from the end of a film, and even more so because this particular quote is relatively bland compared to the deliciously witty words the Coens usually write for their actors. But I mention this for a reason.
Watching the writer/director team's latest film, No Country For Old Men, I was reminded of Fargo, and Marge in particular. Based on Cormac McCarthy's 2005 novel, No Country blends the Western with a bit of black comedy, a pinch of thriller and a dash of horror to tell the three-pronged story of the repercussions of a failed drugs deal. The first leg of this tripod of tragedy is Llewelyn Moss, a hapless stooge in the great Coen tradition who stumbles into trouble when he picks up the money from the aforementioned drug job. He's an innocent goon in hopelessly beyond his depth brilliantly portrayed by Josh Brolin. But while he may be the character who instigates the film's chaos, Moss is merely a McGuffin.
Instead, the film's central themes revolve around the two remaining characters. First up is the man who peruses Moss in order to get the cash back, assassin Anton Chigurgh. Played with chilling stillness by Spanish actor Javier Bardem, Chigurh is like the Terminator made flesh, a monosyllabic manifestation of your worst nightmares who will coolly blow up a car just so he can create a diversion to rob a chemist of the supplies he needs to heal a battle wound. It’s another stunning, Oscar-worthy performance, and once you’ve seen it, the question “What time do you go to bed?” will take on new, terrifying meaning.
Caught in the middle of this chase is Tommy Lee Jones' Ed Tom Bell, the aging local sheriff who acts as the benevolent yin to Chigurgh's Satanic yang as hopelessly peruses he and Moss across the Texan borderlands trying to fathom just what kind of man would be capable of Chigurgh's evil. Jones is, as ever, laconically perfect and although the character was created by McCarthy, he feels decidedly Coenesque, comparable, in fact, to Marge. Bell is a traditional kind of guy, a humane man, cut adrift in a world without morals and when he opens the film lamenting the crime that's about to take place, it's impossible not to be reminded of Marge's soulful lecture to Grimsrud.
Fargo and No Country For Old Men are, to my money at least, the Coens’ finest films, and it strikes me as no coincidence that the best words to describe them are humane, moral and soulful. The Coens' critics accuse them of intellectual smugness, of placing their films in a hermetically sealed box that makes audience connection nigh on impossible. While I would certainly disagree with the former point (surely the Coens are too withdrawn to be smug), I find evidence of the latter in the overbearing quirkiness of O’ Brother Where Art Thou, the suffocating intellectual surrealism of Barton Fink and the distancing noir coldness of The Man Who Wasn’t There.
This isn’t to say any of them are bad films (except perhaps O’ Brother - but that’s more to do with my loathing of bluegrass, a musical genre so hideous only an oxymoron could aptly describe it) or that I don‘t enjoy the Coens’ sense of humour (you’d have to be dead not to laugh at The Big Lebowski), only that they will never hold a candle to Fargo and now No Country, because every time I hear George Clooney proclaim himself “a Dapper Dan man” or Fink make another reference to wrestling pictures I hear Joel and Ethan giggling behind camera and see an imaginary brick wall being built between myself and the screen.
There are plenty of reasons to giggle at Fargo and No Country, of course; the accents, the hopelessness of William H Macy’s small-time crook, Javier Bardem’s haircut. But each them is couched in a real world scenario stripped of overt quirks, and seem to communicate something of the characters: a naivety, a desperation, a sense of unpredictable, sociopathic evil. All of these are very real human emotions, allowed to breath thanks to the fact the Coens have poked their heads out of the Coenworld bunker for just long enough to connect with the rest of the world.
Burn After Reading, an original black comedy about a gym instructor who is targeted for assassination after stumbling across an ex-CIA man’s memoirs, will be their next film, and hilarious I’m sure it will be. But it sounds like the brothers are dipping their head back in the bunker again, something I‘m a little disappointed by. The Coens are as good, if not better, at creating moments of touching human connection as they are at moments of surreal comedy, and the endings of both No Country and Fargo prove as much.
The former I won't ruin here (although it's at once brilliantly ambiguous and emotionally touching), but the ending of Fargo (which bears a semi-similar resemblance to No Country's coda) reads:
Norm: They announced it.
Marge They announced it?
Norm: Yeah.
Marge: So?
Norm: Three-cent stamp.
Marge: Your mallard?
Norm: Yeah.
Marge: Oh, that's terrific.
Norm: It's just a three-cent stamp.
Marge: It's terrific.
Norm: Hautman's blue-winged teal got the 29-cent. People don't much use the three-cent.
Marge: Oh, for Pete's sake. Of course they do. Whenever they raise the postage, people need the little stamps.
Bland and unremarkable it may be, but accompanied by a tinkly interpretation of Carter Burwell’s Fargo theme and a beautiful performance from Frances McDormand, it’s the best and most human scene the Coens have ever written, touching upon a nobility and appreciation of simple homelife that they are often deemed too cynical to understand.
Surrealism may have made their name, but you can keep your Soggy Bottom Boys, your Satanic hotels, hell, even The Dude’s beloved rug. Norm’s three-cent mallard is the pinnacle of the Coens’ career, and No Country For Old Men is a sign they can surpass it in the future.
Sunday, January 06, 2008
WATCHING, READING, LISTENING TO
Over the Christmas holidays, everyone watches more, reads more and listens to more than normal because we've got spare time to fill, so here's our SPECIAL BUMPER EDITION of Watching, Reading, Listening To...
THE WRITER
WATCHING: As with every Christmas, my free time this year was spent slouching in front of the TV watching so many films it's probably easiest just to list what I watched one by one and then give a pithy remark. So, here goes:
Adam Sandler's Eight Crazy Night: An hour and a half of dreadful Christmas animation that, on the one hand, appealed to Sandler's usual dead-headed fans, but on the other, tried to capture the family Christmas market. Deservedly, it ended up attracting neither.
Ella Enchanted: Anne Hathaway is a charming, likeable actress, but this postmodern fairy tale is way beneath her talents. For a better 'little girls' princess' film go watch Enchanted.
Lemony Snicket's A Series Of Unfortunate Events: Liked it when it was out at the cinema, like it now. Brad Silberling is an underrated little director (check out the wonderful drama Moonlight Mile for more evidence) and this pleasingly dark kids' film shows why you really should check out more of his work.
Princess Diaries 2: See Ella Enchanted.
A Christmas Carol: Charles Dickens' most famous story has been made so many times that you only really watch each one to see what each actor brings to it. Sadly, despite this 1999 effort's commendable loyalty to the source and a great turn from Richard E Grant as Bob Crachit, Patrick Stewart's performance as Scrooge is so surprisingly hammy it could have been served up at Christmas dinner.
The Polar Express: Watching Robert Zemeckis's Christmas film on the small screen really shows how much motion capture needs 3D IMAX technology to make it fly. Sure, the story's all Christmassy and warm, but the script's stretched beyond recognition and it's actually quite boring at times without a REALLY BIG SCREEN to make it all fancy.
Doctor Who - Voyage Of The Damned: Good stuff, but the weakest of the three Christmas specials for two reasons. Firstly, Kylie, as good as she was, was just playing Rose and Martha by another name. Secondly, it was too long. 70 minutes seems great, but it's a bit of a no man's land, giving enough scope to create character arcs and subplots, but not quite enough time to develop them satisfactorily, thus making some parts of Voyage of the Damned seem like filler.
Moonraker: The Editor and I have had many a long talk about the merits of Roger Moore's run as James Bond. I hate his tenure, The Editor doesn't. So, as the open-minded type, I sat down and watched the three Moore Bonds on this Christmas to see if I was wrong. I was not. Moonraker is utter garbage from start to finish, taking one of Ian Fleming's best novels and turning it into a structureless excuse to cash in on the Star Wars phenemonon.
For Your Eyes Only: I was assured that this was a slightly edgier effort from the Moore era after Moonraker was poorly received. It's certainly got its feet on the ground in comparison with its predecessor, but it's still aimless tosh in which the 104-year-old Rog flirts with women not even half his age.
Octopussy: Sir Rog, now 136 years of age, goes to more exotic locations, beds more women and even finds time to dress up as a clown. How apt.
Garfield: You know who'd make an interesting Bond? Bill Murray. Well, he certainly does a good job as Garfield in this seriously underratted cinematic debut for the lardy cat. It's certainly no masterpiece, but I dug this entertaining little kids film, which managed to blend decent, semi-subversive jokes, with a reasonably sweet love story between Breckin Myer and Jennifer Love-Hewitt.
The Terminal: Silly romantic comedy or subervise satire on the death of the American dream at the hands of commerce and capitalism. I think the latter, the Editor goes for the far less interesting choice of the former. Either way, The Terminal is one of Spielberg's most underrated recent efforts.
The Simpsons Movie: And speaking of underrated, I'm not quite sure why The Simpsons Movie has been so harshly written off. Watching it a second time on DVD, the jokes still fly, the characters still have heart and the structure is still sound. This is certainly not just an overextended single episode.
Ice Princess: Look, I watched Ella Enchanted, so why not this? Young girl wants to be an ice skater, but she's a geek played by Michelle Trachtenberg. Guess what happens next. Entirely predictable, but notable for creating a bizarre dystopian nightmare in which Kim Cattrell's bitchy skating coach wins out over Joan Cusack's sweet and intelligent mother character. Truly frightening.
The Spy Who Loved Me: The Bond continues. This is one of only two Moore efforts I enjoy (Live And Let Die being the second) and, despite the fact it doesn't really add up to anything more than the sum of its parts, it's very watchable.
Goldeneye: Pierce Brosnan. Great Bond, bad films. Goldeneye is, by some distance, the best flick of his tenure, blending a rich story, interesting characters and some cracking action set pieces.
Diamonds Are Forever: Why is everyone so down on DAF? Okay, it's not great and Shir Shean looks a few years too old (and a few pounds overweight), but it's a decent little thriller and features a great fight between Bond and a diamond smuggler in a lift.
READING: Everyone must fink I'm dead clever like, cos I got loads of books this Christmas, so again, I'll just list 'em with a quick comment:
Complete Bond Box-Set: A friend bought me a boxset including all fourteen Fleming Bonds, so now I can discover exactly how many great stories were ruined by Sir Rog's arching brow. First up, having already read the first four is book five: From Russia With Love. Best Bond film. Best Bond book? Hopefully.
Long Way Down: Slightly disappointed by the TV series, which seemed a little too well-planned to have the same sense of danger as Long Way Round, so I'm looking forward to sinking my teeth into the book which has started reasonably well.
Charlie Brooker's Dawn Of The Dumb: Knowing I'm a grumpy old man who enjoys the writing of fellow grumpies, The Editor bought me The Guardian columist's second book. It's basically a compilation of his work from 2004 onwards, but when that includes gems as good as "David Cameron's like a big hollow Easter egg with all the sweets taken out" what more do you need?
The Marvel Museum: It's a history of Marvel comics! In a big book! With a load of replica memorbilia! What more could a geek want? Well, complete control over their headquarters so I can stop them buggering up Spider-Man wouldn't be bad. But this comes a close second. Now I own an invitation for Peter Parker and Mary Jane Watson's wedding. Hurrah!
Directed By Steven Spielberg: Bought this for myself before Christmas because I wanted to read a serious examination of Spielberg's directorial style. Only read the first page, but it was a good one, so let's hope it continues...
LISTENING TO: Not being a huge music fan, I've only been listening to two things over Christmas. First, Jonny Greenwood's score for There Will Be Blood, which is a unique piece of work every bit as magnificent as I hope the film will be. Secondly, the fancy-dan discbox thing of Radiohead's In Rainbows. Obviously, it's still awesome, but now it's even awseomer, because it comes with an extra disc. True to form, In Rainbows CD 2 has two curious instrumentals (MK 1 & 2), but they work well in the dreamy context of the album, extras, bonus disc...thing. Down Is The New Up is a cracking little slice of funk every bit deserving of the hype it has received, while Last Flowers and Four Minute Warning are slow, ethereal ballads right up their with the likes of Motion Picture Soundtrack and Street Spirit. Bangers and Mash is slightly dissapointing, but only because it lacks the venom of its live performances, and it's more than made up for by the two remaining tracks (Go Slowly and Up on the Ladder) and the beauty of the discbox's presentation. To be honest, I hope this is how Radiohead release all their albums. Disbox aside, the songs on CD 2 deserve better than B-side status and the cutting room floor and this is the way to save them from that fate.
THE EDITOR
WATCHING: Unlike The Writer, I didn't watch many films on TV this Christmas, and judging by the stuff he watched I think I chose the right option. Here's what I saw:
The Wire Series 1: Rented it from LoveFilm as I'd heard a lot about how good it is, and as The Sopranos finished last year and there's not much else that I like on TV. It takes a lot of concentration to get into the intricate and expansive tale of life in Baltimore for police and drug dealers alike, but it's richly rewarding and awesome stuff. I haven't seen the whole first series yet and I'm already looking forward to the second one and beyond. God bless HBO.
Six Feet Under Series 1: Speaking of HBO, my fiancee bought me the complete SFU box-set for my birthday before Christmas and I've watched the first series so far. I've seen it twice before and it's still just as funny, moving and powerful as the first time, perhaps even more as it's the first time I've watched it since the show ended.
Transformers: Another DVD, this time a Christmas present. I saw it at the cinema and really enjoyed it then, and I still liked it on the smaller screen. Having grown up with Transformers, obviously some of the characterisation was a bit off, but you can't take it that seriously as it doesn't take itself very seriously. It's a good laugh and there's lots of fun to be had from it.
The Stingiest Man In Town: A Rankin/Bass animated remake of a musical version of A Christmas Carol, with Tom Bosley as 'The Christmas Humbug' (the narrator basically) and Walter Mathau as Scrooge. It's something that I've had on tape since I was young and I loved it then and now. It might not be that good really and it's a bit sentimental at times, but that's Christmas for you and I love the songs.
The Muppet Christmas Carol: I'd never seen this before and I was a bit disappointed really. There's some good jokes as you'd expect from the Muppets, but I thought Michael Caine was very flat as Scrooge and that stopped it from ever really taking off.
First Daughter: One of the few films I saw on TV, this was my fiancee's choice rather than mine and it wasn't great, despite being directed by Forest Whittaker. Katie Holmes plays the President's daughter, going off to uni and falling in love, etc, etc. It's like a schmaltzy version of a storyline from The West Wing and doesn't really go anywhere.
Stephen King's Rose Red; Another birthday present, this DVD was part of a Stephen King box-set and it lasts about four hours, so provided plenty of viewing. Like most King adaptations it's a bit cheesy at times and packed with the kind of cliches that get edited out of the better ones, but it's a pretty spooky haunted house tale and was good fun.
READING: Didn't really have much time for reading over Christmas, so the only thing I really flicked through was a book about The Sopranos that The Writer got me for my birthday. It's a really good book with all the background info and stories from the making of my favourite TV show of all time, so I'm sure I'll enjoy dipping in and out of it. I got given a lot of books for Christmas and bought some more with book tokens, etc, so i should get a move on with the two I'm currently reading...
LISTENING TO: Unusually, I didn't listen to much music over Christmas, mainly because I watched so many DVDs. Apart from Xmas music, I listened to Sia's new album (reviewed on the main site), the Transformers The Movie soundtrack (a present), some Timi Yuro and albums that I bought with iTunes vouchers. Two of them were inspired by hearing songs on Six Feet Under (The Amboy Dukes and Craig Armstrong) and the rest were classic Aretha Franklin albums that I'd never got around to buying before. All good stuff.
Over the Christmas holidays, everyone watches more, reads more and listens to more than normal because we've got spare time to fill, so here's our SPECIAL BUMPER EDITION of Watching, Reading, Listening To...
THE WRITER
WATCHING: As with every Christmas, my free time this year was spent slouching in front of the TV watching so many films it's probably easiest just to list what I watched one by one and then give a pithy remark. So, here goes:
Adam Sandler's Eight Crazy Night: An hour and a half of dreadful Christmas animation that, on the one hand, appealed to Sandler's usual dead-headed fans, but on the other, tried to capture the family Christmas market. Deservedly, it ended up attracting neither.
Ella Enchanted: Anne Hathaway is a charming, likeable actress, but this postmodern fairy tale is way beneath her talents. For a better 'little girls' princess' film go watch Enchanted.
Lemony Snicket's A Series Of Unfortunate Events: Liked it when it was out at the cinema, like it now. Brad Silberling is an underrated little director (check out the wonderful drama Moonlight Mile for more evidence) and this pleasingly dark kids' film shows why you really should check out more of his work.
Princess Diaries 2: See Ella Enchanted.
A Christmas Carol: Charles Dickens' most famous story has been made so many times that you only really watch each one to see what each actor brings to it. Sadly, despite this 1999 effort's commendable loyalty to the source and a great turn from Richard E Grant as Bob Crachit, Patrick Stewart's performance as Scrooge is so surprisingly hammy it could have been served up at Christmas dinner.
The Polar Express: Watching Robert Zemeckis's Christmas film on the small screen really shows how much motion capture needs 3D IMAX technology to make it fly. Sure, the story's all Christmassy and warm, but the script's stretched beyond recognition and it's actually quite boring at times without a REALLY BIG SCREEN to make it all fancy.
Doctor Who - Voyage Of The Damned: Good stuff, but the weakest of the three Christmas specials for two reasons. Firstly, Kylie, as good as she was, was just playing Rose and Martha by another name. Secondly, it was too long. 70 minutes seems great, but it's a bit of a no man's land, giving enough scope to create character arcs and subplots, but not quite enough time to develop them satisfactorily, thus making some parts of Voyage of the Damned seem like filler.
Moonraker: The Editor and I have had many a long talk about the merits of Roger Moore's run as James Bond. I hate his tenure, The Editor doesn't. So, as the open-minded type, I sat down and watched the three Moore Bonds on this Christmas to see if I was wrong. I was not. Moonraker is utter garbage from start to finish, taking one of Ian Fleming's best novels and turning it into a structureless excuse to cash in on the Star Wars phenemonon.
For Your Eyes Only: I was assured that this was a slightly edgier effort from the Moore era after Moonraker was poorly received. It's certainly got its feet on the ground in comparison with its predecessor, but it's still aimless tosh in which the 104-year-old Rog flirts with women not even half his age.
Octopussy: Sir Rog, now 136 years of age, goes to more exotic locations, beds more women and even finds time to dress up as a clown. How apt.
Garfield: You know who'd make an interesting Bond? Bill Murray. Well, he certainly does a good job as Garfield in this seriously underratted cinematic debut for the lardy cat. It's certainly no masterpiece, but I dug this entertaining little kids film, which managed to blend decent, semi-subversive jokes, with a reasonably sweet love story between Breckin Myer and Jennifer Love-Hewitt.
The Terminal: Silly romantic comedy or subervise satire on the death of the American dream at the hands of commerce and capitalism. I think the latter, the Editor goes for the far less interesting choice of the former. Either way, The Terminal is one of Spielberg's most underrated recent efforts.
The Simpsons Movie: And speaking of underrated, I'm not quite sure why The Simpsons Movie has been so harshly written off. Watching it a second time on DVD, the jokes still fly, the characters still have heart and the structure is still sound. This is certainly not just an overextended single episode.
Ice Princess: Look, I watched Ella Enchanted, so why not this? Young girl wants to be an ice skater, but she's a geek played by Michelle Trachtenberg. Guess what happens next. Entirely predictable, but notable for creating a bizarre dystopian nightmare in which Kim Cattrell's bitchy skating coach wins out over Joan Cusack's sweet and intelligent mother character. Truly frightening.
The Spy Who Loved Me: The Bond continues. This is one of only two Moore efforts I enjoy (Live And Let Die being the second) and, despite the fact it doesn't really add up to anything more than the sum of its parts, it's very watchable.
Goldeneye: Pierce Brosnan. Great Bond, bad films. Goldeneye is, by some distance, the best flick of his tenure, blending a rich story, interesting characters and some cracking action set pieces.
Diamonds Are Forever: Why is everyone so down on DAF? Okay, it's not great and Shir Shean looks a few years too old (and a few pounds overweight), but it's a decent little thriller and features a great fight between Bond and a diamond smuggler in a lift.
READING: Everyone must fink I'm dead clever like, cos I got loads of books this Christmas, so again, I'll just list 'em with a quick comment:
Complete Bond Box-Set: A friend bought me a boxset including all fourteen Fleming Bonds, so now I can discover exactly how many great stories were ruined by Sir Rog's arching brow. First up, having already read the first four is book five: From Russia With Love. Best Bond film. Best Bond book? Hopefully.
Long Way Down: Slightly disappointed by the TV series, which seemed a little too well-planned to have the same sense of danger as Long Way Round, so I'm looking forward to sinking my teeth into the book which has started reasonably well.
Charlie Brooker's Dawn Of The Dumb: Knowing I'm a grumpy old man who enjoys the writing of fellow grumpies, The Editor bought me The Guardian columist's second book. It's basically a compilation of his work from 2004 onwards, but when that includes gems as good as "David Cameron's like a big hollow Easter egg with all the sweets taken out" what more do you need?
The Marvel Museum: It's a history of Marvel comics! In a big book! With a load of replica memorbilia! What more could a geek want? Well, complete control over their headquarters so I can stop them buggering up Spider-Man wouldn't be bad. But this comes a close second. Now I own an invitation for Peter Parker and Mary Jane Watson's wedding. Hurrah!
Directed By Steven Spielberg: Bought this for myself before Christmas because I wanted to read a serious examination of Spielberg's directorial style. Only read the first page, but it was a good one, so let's hope it continues...
LISTENING TO: Not being a huge music fan, I've only been listening to two things over Christmas. First, Jonny Greenwood's score for There Will Be Blood, which is a unique piece of work every bit as magnificent as I hope the film will be. Secondly, the fancy-dan discbox thing of Radiohead's In Rainbows. Obviously, it's still awesome, but now it's even awseomer, because it comes with an extra disc. True to form, In Rainbows CD 2 has two curious instrumentals (MK 1 & 2), but they work well in the dreamy context of the album, extras, bonus disc...thing. Down Is The New Up is a cracking little slice of funk every bit deserving of the hype it has received, while Last Flowers and Four Minute Warning are slow, ethereal ballads right up their with the likes of Motion Picture Soundtrack and Street Spirit. Bangers and Mash is slightly dissapointing, but only because it lacks the venom of its live performances, and it's more than made up for by the two remaining tracks (Go Slowly and Up on the Ladder) and the beauty of the discbox's presentation. To be honest, I hope this is how Radiohead release all their albums. Disbox aside, the songs on CD 2 deserve better than B-side status and the cutting room floor and this is the way to save them from that fate.
THE EDITOR
WATCHING: Unlike The Writer, I didn't watch many films on TV this Christmas, and judging by the stuff he watched I think I chose the right option. Here's what I saw:
The Wire Series 1: Rented it from LoveFilm as I'd heard a lot about how good it is, and as The Sopranos finished last year and there's not much else that I like on TV. It takes a lot of concentration to get into the intricate and expansive tale of life in Baltimore for police and drug dealers alike, but it's richly rewarding and awesome stuff. I haven't seen the whole first series yet and I'm already looking forward to the second one and beyond. God bless HBO.
Six Feet Under Series 1: Speaking of HBO, my fiancee bought me the complete SFU box-set for my birthday before Christmas and I've watched the first series so far. I've seen it twice before and it's still just as funny, moving and powerful as the first time, perhaps even more as it's the first time I've watched it since the show ended.
Transformers: Another DVD, this time a Christmas present. I saw it at the cinema and really enjoyed it then, and I still liked it on the smaller screen. Having grown up with Transformers, obviously some of the characterisation was a bit off, but you can't take it that seriously as it doesn't take itself very seriously. It's a good laugh and there's lots of fun to be had from it.
The Stingiest Man In Town: A Rankin/Bass animated remake of a musical version of A Christmas Carol, with Tom Bosley as 'The Christmas Humbug' (the narrator basically) and Walter Mathau as Scrooge. It's something that I've had on tape since I was young and I loved it then and now. It might not be that good really and it's a bit sentimental at times, but that's Christmas for you and I love the songs.
The Muppet Christmas Carol: I'd never seen this before and I was a bit disappointed really. There's some good jokes as you'd expect from the Muppets, but I thought Michael Caine was very flat as Scrooge and that stopped it from ever really taking off.
First Daughter: One of the few films I saw on TV, this was my fiancee's choice rather than mine and it wasn't great, despite being directed by Forest Whittaker. Katie Holmes plays the President's daughter, going off to uni and falling in love, etc, etc. It's like a schmaltzy version of a storyline from The West Wing and doesn't really go anywhere.
Stephen King's Rose Red; Another birthday present, this DVD was part of a Stephen King box-set and it lasts about four hours, so provided plenty of viewing. Like most King adaptations it's a bit cheesy at times and packed with the kind of cliches that get edited out of the better ones, but it's a pretty spooky haunted house tale and was good fun.
READING: Didn't really have much time for reading over Christmas, so the only thing I really flicked through was a book about The Sopranos that The Writer got me for my birthday. It's a really good book with all the background info and stories from the making of my favourite TV show of all time, so I'm sure I'll enjoy dipping in and out of it. I got given a lot of books for Christmas and bought some more with book tokens, etc, so i should get a move on with the two I'm currently reading...
LISTENING TO: Unusually, I didn't listen to much music over Christmas, mainly because I watched so many DVDs. Apart from Xmas music, I listened to Sia's new album (reviewed on the main site), the Transformers The Movie soundtrack (a present), some Timi Yuro and albums that I bought with iTunes vouchers. Two of them were inspired by hearing songs on Six Feet Under (The Amboy Dukes and Craig Armstrong) and the rest were classic Aretha Franklin albums that I'd never got around to buying before. All good stuff.
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