And another thing…

A SLIGHT (well, major) change to last week’s format. Listen to hear David’s take on his five all-time favourite movies, as well as his controversial least favourite one.

See if you can guess in advance which movie falls under which category: Casablanca, Dr Strangelove, Braveheart, Red River, Reservoir Dogs and The Elephant Man.

It’s a robust 23 minutes log, but worth a listen, trust me.

 

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Remember, you can subscribe to my regular podcasts via iTunes.

SAY WHAT you like about James Cameron, the man knows how to make movies that people like. Avatar is already the fastest, if not yet the largest, grossing movie ever made (as well, of course, as being history’s most expensive to make).

So is it any good? Yes. Yes, it is. And I would wholeheartedly recommend you go see it. It is, after all, an important movie insofar as the technology is concerned (not so innovative when it comes to plot, but I’ll come to that). It perhaps doesn’t register on the innovation scale as, say, the first talkie or the first colour movie, but its 3D effects are flawless and impressive and are used for the first time in a movie ostensibly aimed at adults.

The CGI that produces the indigenous alien species on the alien world, the Na’vi, are so effective that after their first appearance it’s easy to forget these are not real, living things. The scenes of the alien world are breath-taking, with the 3D adding that extra thrill as the protagonists defy great heights and walk along very narrow branches thousands of feet in the air.

When I was a teenager I was a great fan of a sci-fi artist called Chris Foss, who produced much of the artwork for Isaac Asimov paperbacks on sale at the time. He specialised in alien worlds and futuristic hardware, and Avatar looks as much like the realisation of Foss’s work as anything I’ve ever seen on screen.

As for the story, well… boy meets alien, boy falls in love with alien, boy loses alien, etc. At least there was no Irish dancing in this one,  I suppose. Cameron doesn’t do subtle, either in terms of plot or visually, as anyone familar with Titanic or Terminator 2 will know. As I said, he knows what works and he knows what his audiences want, and you can’t fault the guy for that.

He also references a huge number of previous movies, including his own: Aliens, The Matrix, Soldier Blue, Apocalypse Now, Terminator, A Man Called Horse, even Titanic. I suspect he even found inspiration for one scene in the news footage of the collapse of the World Trade Centre towers on 9/11.

In terms of author’s message, Cameron’s just as subtle, and he has something to say about the environment, racism and imperialism (rarely have the US military been portrayed in such a negative light since the end of Vietnam), and he says it by shouting in your face repeatedly until you’ve got the message.

So it’s derivative to an extent, but that shouldn’t put you off seeing it for yourself, if you haven’t already. I’m sometimes suspicious of directors who shoot their own scripts and plots, but if Cameron lacks subtlety, he’s at least a dozen times more disciplined in his film-making and far less self-indulgent than some I could mention*. He makes movies for the audience, not for himself, and for that he should be admired.

How long, do you think, before an extended “Director’s Cut” is available?

*George Lucas

I WAS never actually a fan back in the ’80s, but I do like Liam Neeson, and I had no idea they were remaking it (though I don’t know why I’m surprised, given the number of old series that have been “rebooted” in recent years).

For what it’s worth, this looks a lot better than the series ever was, but that wouldn’t be hard, would it?

“There is no Plan B” – cracking strap line.

UPDATE: The video was withdrawn shortly after I posted this, but you can watch a YouTube version of it here.

CAROLYN and I (along with two pairs of 3D specs) finally managed to make it along to see the latest cinematic movie version of Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol.

We’re both very big fans of both the book and the various movie versions. Before we had children it was our custom to watch each version that we owned on video (and later DVD) in the run-up to each Christmas. As I say, that was before children, and nowadays we’re lucky to get a couple of viewings under our belts before the big day. And don’t waste your breath suggesting we watch them after Christmas Day, or even on Christmas Day itself – sacrilege!

So we were both intrigued to see whether Jim Carrey and Robert Zemeckis had produced something worth adding to our library in years to come. In short, the answer is a resounding “yes”.

Computer-generated imagery (CGI) in the cinema has been improving at a near-exponential rate ever since Toy Story. The strength of that particular movie, of course, was that there were few human faces to animate, so the deficiencies in the process were less obvious than they would have been otherwise – see The Polar Express (another Zemeckis effort, incidentally) for an example of a CGI movie which was probably ahead of the available technology at the time; the faces of the characters are too inexpressive and weird, and that detracts from the rest of the movie, to its detriment.

With A Christmas Carol, however, Zemeckis has played a blinder. Not only has the technology caught up with the director’s need for subtle facial expression, but it’s far enough advanced to create animated characters that are almost instantly recogniseable as the actors who are providing the voices. So Bob Cratchit, Fred and Mr Fezziwig are immediately identfied not only by their voices, but by their faces, as Gary Oldman, Colin Firth and Bob Hoskins.

The script is almost entirely faithful to the original book (although I don’t recall Scrooge swearing “Bollocks!” in any other version…), the plot races along without skipping over any of the vital plot lines and the tears are appropriately jerked at the end. And that’s before I even mention the extraordinary 3D effects, which are the best I’ve yet seen.

But how does 2009’s A Christmas Carol compare with our other favourite versions? Well, here’s how:

Number 7: A Christmas Carol (1999) starring Patrick Stewart. Cast after his successful one-man theatre performances of the classic, the former Star Trek lead was an obvious choice for this TV-made version. It lacks a certain emotional connection, and sometimes you get the impression that Stewart is trying too hard to put in a different interpretation of Scrooge from his illustrious predecessors. But a worthy addition to the canon and faithful to the book.

Number 6: Scrooge (1970), for which Albert Finney won a Golden Globe. Thoroughly enjoyable, although hard to accept Finney as the older Scrooge, since he was 34 years old when he played the part. Some good songs, including the required set-piece Victorian street dance spectaculars.

Number 5: Scrooge (1951) starring Alastair Sim. Considered by many to be the definitive version, this is a masterpiece. Sim is particularly mesmerising, his big, sad eyes capturing perfectly the humanity and tortured soul behind Scrooge’s heartlessness. Never quite worked out why “Tiny” Tim is so tall and old… Make sure you watch the orignal black and white version, and not the colourised version.

Number 4: A Christmas Carol (2009) See above.

Number 3: Scrooged (1988) starring Bill Murray. There have been a number of attempts to update the classic tale, but none, surely, has been more successful than this comedy? Murray is utterly brilliant as Jack Cross, the cynical TV producer who hates Christmas and who takes his unhappiness out on those around him. Although the original dialogue doesn’t get a look-in (for obvious reasons) the final scenes are moving enough to bring a tear to my eye every time I watch it. Fantastic.

Number 2: A Christmas Carol (1984) starring George C. Scott. Another made-for-TV effort, but rivalling Sim’s as the definitive version. Beautifully and atmospherically shot on location in Shrewsbury (where Scrooge’s tombstone still lies in the graveyard to this day, incidentally), this is a glorious and faithful version. Scott is a magnificent and compelling Scrooge.

Number 1: The Muppet Christmas Carol (1992) starring Michael Caine, Kermit the Frog and Miss Piggy. Utterly, utterly brilliant version. If you haven’t seen it, buy the DVD now (although try to buy the US version – it has an extra song which was inexplicably cut from the British DVD version). Not only are all the central characters (apart from Scrooge) reproduced in Muppet form – Kermit as Bob Cratchit, Miss Piggy his wife, Fozzie Bear as Fozziwig, etc – but it has retained a lot of the original dialogue. There is, as you would expect, a lot of humour – particularly centred on the narrator, Charles Dickens (played by Gonzo the Great) and his sidekick, Rizzo the Rat. I’ve checked, and neither of these actually appeared in the novel. Heigh-ho… But despite being populated by Muppets, the movie is scary and touching when it has to be. And Michael Caine (who I love anyway) is wonderful as Scrooge. Can’t sing or dance, mind.

REPRESENTATIVE democracy is dead, they say – why vote for MPs when we have the technology to make instant decisions by phone and internet? If we can vote for Jedward in The X-Factor, then surely we can legislate as well from the comfort of our own homes? If, while eating Chinese food in front of the TV of a Saturday evening, we are capable of judging objectively whether Danyl’s performance this week wasn’t quite as strong as last week’s, well, surely that’s no different from being able to decide whether Schedule 2 to the Consolidate Planning (Miscellaneous Provisions) Bill should be retained or deleted?

Whenever I hear such ludicrous arguments I’m reminded of the excellent 1970 British satire, The Rise and Rise of Michael Rimmer, in which a careerist and scruples-free businessman eventually becomes President of the UK by demonstrating to the British public just how unworkable and unappetising direct democracy can be.

Have a look.

And you can buy your own copy of the DVD here.

REMEMBER that emotional scene between Al Pacino and Robert Duvall in The Godfather Part III, at the party to celebrate Tom Hagen’s retirement? And wasn’t Winona Ryder great as Michael Corleone’s daughter Mary?

Or what about the Star Wars prequels, now hailed as three of the best science fiction films ever made, largely because of George Lucas’s brave and selfless decision to hand directorial duties over to someone who was able to take a more objective approach to the plot?

And who can forget Sean Connery’s emotional final outing as James Bond, cradling the dead body of his bride in the final scene of On Her Majesty’s Secret Service?

Just three (or five, if you count the Star Wars prequels separately) films that could so easily have been so much better than what we finally got, if only certain actors and directors had made different choices. There are certainly others, but right now I can’t think of them.

I happen to think the third instalment of The Godfather was excellent (soon to be included in a Top Ten Under-Rated Movies post, coming soon), but the original script would have reunited Pacino with his step-brother Hagen, whose retirement as the Corleones’ consigliere would have provided the focus for the first half of the film. When Duval pulled out, Coppola instead hired… er, George Hamilton, to replace him.

And then, of course, there was poor Sophia Coppola, brought in at the last moment to replace Ryder who had been scheduled to play the Don’s daughter but who was suffering from nervous exhaustion. It wasn’t Coppola Jr’s fault that she was a crummy actress; her father shouldn’t have put her in that position. But the fact remains that her performance, in one of the most anticipated movies of the last 30 years, was a cadillac crash, detracting from some fine moments in the movie.

When I saw the first trailer for Star Wars, Episode I: The Phantom Menace, I could barely contain my excitement. It promised so much. And yet, as those who have seen all three prequels will testify, it delivered a good deal less than nothing. By “less than nothing” I refer to the (justified) view of many Star Wars fans that the legend has suffered considerably through Lucas’s self-indulgent messes and that it would have been far preferable had they never been made at all.

It could all have been so different, so much better, had Lucas taken a step back and handed the director’s reigns to someone else, someone who might have challenged and changed the “plot” where necessary, instead of simply filming what eventually seemed to be Lucas’s random stream of consciousness. After all, when he handed the director’s chair to Irvin Kershner for the very first sequel, The Empire Strikes Back, the result was the undisputed high point of the entire series.

And then there’s the Biggie, the Holy Grail of movie “what ifs”: what if Connery had stayed for one more Bond film after You Only Live Twice and had been seen on screen getting married to the ill-fated Tracy Di Vicenzo? There are some Bond fans (so I’m told) who actually believe OHMSS is one of the best in the series. In fact it’s barely more watchable than For Your Eyes Only, thanks mainly to George Lazenby’s execrable performance in the lead role. Again, it was hardly the actor’s fault; how many actors with only a TV ad for a bar of chocolate in their CV would have turned down the role of the world’s best known secret agent? But he wasn’t up to it and an insubstantial plot did nothing to balance things up. But if Connery had stayed, who knows? It could have been a great film, or even a good one. (One of the reasons Bond aficionados offer for their view that OHMSS is a great film is that it is one of the most accurate adaptations of Fleming’s original novels. So what? Sometimes good books make crap films, and not all of Fleming’s novels were good.)

There are no doubt plenty of other movie missed opportunities; who knows how much better Trainspotting might have been if Kelly Macdonald had stuck to bar-tending, for instance?

If you can think of any others, please feel free to make suggestions.

I’VE ALWAYS been suspicious of the so-called enfants terrible of Hollywood, those subversive, revolutionary directors who are fêted at the start of their careers as geniuses but who end up disappointing everyone. Tim Burton springs to mind.

And Quentin Tarantino could so easily have been another one. The former video store worker who shocked and impressed in equal measure with his directorial debut, Reservoir Dogs and then went one better with his “difficult second album”, Pulp Fiction, could have faded into oblivion had he believed his own publicity. The reason he remains a respected voice in the film world is that he has proved, even through the inevitable highs and lows of his career, that he is a man of genuine talent. It may be a sort of talent you don’t particularly like, but that it exists can’t be doubted.

And so to Inglorious Basterds, which Carolyn and I saw this evening. The bottom line is: I loved it; Carolyn hated it. “Vile” was the word she repeatedly used when we got back in the car afterwards. I think she was talking about the film…

One thing you can always expect from a Tarantino film: the unexpected (see what I did there?). And it’s not just that characters you assumed were central to the movie are so brutally despatched long before the climax. Tarantino also takes liberties with other aspects of the plot that will have other writers and directors gasping at his audacity and confidence.

Perhaps the reason I was so impressed is that I genuinely wasn’t expecting to enjoy it. The trailer was funny, but made the film look like an ultra-violent farce. In fact it had a compelling (though admittedly improbable) plot, immensely sympathetic characters and a fantastic central villain. The opening scene, where a French farmer who’s hiding a Jewish family under his floorboards, is subjected to amiable but menacing interrogation by a German army oficer known as “the Jew hunter”, is entirely compelling and succeeded not only in powerfully framing the rest of the narrative, but also in hooking the willing viewer into Tarantino’s bizarre version of World War II.

The finale was violent, dramatic and emotionally satisfying and had me gasping in awe. I was disappointed there wasn’t a round of applause in which I could join.

Carolyn wouldn’t have joined in, mind you. But that’s chicks for you, eh?

NOTE: I’m not giving anything away, but if you do go and see it, ask yourself how on earth Ryan out of The Office was caught.

A bizarre and crucial scene from Inglorious Basterds

UPDATE: I’ve been informed through Twitter that my spelling of this film’s title is a bit off: it should be Inglourious Basterds.

FOLLOWING the awful case of the woman who was seriously assaulted after asking some youths in the cinema to be quiet, there’s been an interesting public debate on how to handle this very modern dilemma.

It’s always been a source of bewilderment to me that anyone would want to spend a tenner to watch a film and then instead have a conversation with his mates. Only a moron would do that, surely? (Clue: the answer is “yes”.)

What do YOU think is the best way of deterring people from speaking in cinemas?

What makes someone imagine that making noises during a presentation at a cinema is remotely acceptable anyway? Carolyn’s theory is that people are now used to having the cinema experience in their own livingrooms, with all the freedom to chat, snack and pause the DVD as they please. So when they then go to a cinema, they’re not used to making allowances for others and to being considerate of them.

Personally, I think it’s simply another aspect of the selfish society, alongside parking in disabled and parent and toddler spaces at supermarkets, cyclists ignoring red traffic signals and a***holes who deliberately park across two spaces. If it’s what you want to do, why allow consideration for others to impinge on your right to do whatever you want, right?

Two incidents from personal experience spring to mind. The first was in 1991 when I went to see The Godfather, Part III. I’m a big fan of The Godfather movies so I didn’t really have a problem with the bloke behind me giving his girlfriend a brief introduction and background to each of the characters as they appeared onscreen for the first time. But I drew a line at his running commentary on his personal thoughts about the movie as it progressed. I turned round and – politely, of course – asked him to shut the f*** up… okay, just kidding. I asked him if he wouldn’t mind keeping his discussion until after the film had ended. By the look on his face, you could be forgiven that I had just threatened to murder his family. But he did, in fact, dry up for the rest of the film.

The next incident was even more heinous. In 1997, I took Carolyn (okay, against her wishes) to see the digitally remastered version of Star Wars, Episode VI: The Return of the Jedi. Sci-fi fans tend to treat such experiences with more than the appropriate level of decorum and respect – the way other people treat state funerals. But sitting behind us were two young guys who (and this seems incredible just having to write this down) actually spoke the dialogue simultaneously with the characters! Out loud!

Well, exactly!

After the droids had gained access to Jabba’s headquarters and Luke’s hologram had made them a gift to the Hutt, I turned round and told them to shut up. I was pretty angry. Carolyn was pretty embarrassed. The two young guys were pretty indignant, and at first I thought they were going to ignore my request. And then they left the cinema altogether! Or if they didn’t actually leave, they managed to find another seat and other members of the audience to annoy.

So what would you do? And am I being a cinema fascist? I admit to being absolutely intolerant of other people speaking incessantly during a movie or – the cardinal (some might say mortal) sin – allowing their mobile phone to ring (a friend was once in the cinema when a bloke’s phone went off. Not only did he answer it but he had a conversation on it!).

Should we (I) be more tolerant and chill out? Or do those of us who have some understanding of how to behave in public have a duty to impart our wisdom on those less fortunate than ourselves?

LET me be clear: this is not a Top Ten list of bad films.

When I asked Twitter followers to nominate films which everyone loved but which were actually rubbish, they volunteered some really bad ones — the Star Wars prequels, Showgirls, Carry On Columbus, Transformers — all dreadful films, sure, but no-one has actually suggested they were any good in the first place.

No, I’m looking for Emperor’s new clothes-type movies, adored by critics and loved by audiences for no discernible reason. You may say that my own judgment is flawed (it’s not) and that everyone has the right to differ on whether a film is good or not (they don’t) and that I don’t have the right to decide when a much-loved movie is actually dross (yes I do).

Just read this list and tell me I’m wrong (I’m not).

10. Truly, Madly, Deeply (1990)

Carolyn’s not chuffed that this one is included at all, but come on! What a load of tripe! Yes, Juliet Stevenson’s portrayal of a young woman widowed too soon is powerful and moving and… very, very long. But eventually she finds happiness with an annoying magician in between her work helping asylum seekers. Oh, please… And anyway, how can you like any film set in 1990 with a character called Titus? Give me strength.

9. Fantasia (1940)

The Disney cartoon that makes you think you should give Pocahontas another chance. Great animation, powerful imagery, wonderful music, blah, blah…BORING! Was this really the same studio that gave us the immortal Phil Harris as Baloo the Bear? (I say “immortal”: he died.) Put a whole generation off classical music for good.

8. Love, Actually (2003)

A controversial inclusion, I admit, since I’m not sure anyone thinks this was ever any good in the first place. The thing is, nobody really wanted to criticise Richard Curtis in his first, albeit disastrous, outing as a director, but it really was utter rot. There was a lot of talk at the time about audiences applauding when Hugh Grant’s Prime Minister gives the US president a piece of his mind. The thing is, he didn’t give a toss when Billy-Bob was dictating British foreign policy or splitting the Cabinet, oh no — it was the prez trying to feel up his girlfriend that made the PM grow a backbone. Just like real life… And don’t get me started on the the rest of the cliché-infested waste of celluloid. Setting aside Emma Thomson’s annoying gullibility in trusting her husband not to have an affair, or Colin Firth’s public show of love for his Portugese waitress (well, of course it was public — it was a Richard Curtis film, wasn’t it?) what was that bloody awful school concert at the end all about? And post-9/11, where were the armed security guards when the annoying young chap who looked like a girl was running through the airport? He could have been hiding anything under that anorak… Risible, actually.

7. Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels (1998)

The film that brought us Guy Ritchie. And if that’s all you can say about it, it should probably be higher up this Top Ten. Thought it was far cooler than it actually was (but then, everything was cooler than this film). Feted as the return of the great British gangster movie… well, it was certainly British, and it was about gangsters. And it was a movie. But that’s it.

6. Batman (1989)

Tim Burton was way out of his depth on this, and on the sequel, Batman Returns, Mars Attacks and on Planet of the Apes and much else. It’s been said Burton would make a great art director on a movie but he seems oddly incapable sitting in the director’s chair. It’s as if he knows how to make a movie look good, but gets bored reading the storyboard and what’s so important about plot and character continuity anyway? A curiously disappointing and  insubstantial effort.

5. Escape from New York (1981)

There’s just something missing from a lot of John Carpenter’s movies, especially those with Kurt Russell. Even the brilliant The Thing was flawed. But Escape from New York could have been a great movie, tapping into the whole “inevitable decline of civilisation” theme so prevalent in 1980s movies. But it was soulless, with no convincing or sympathetic characters. Rubbish, and don’t let anyone tell you any different. Elvis was quite good, mind you.

4. 28 Days Later (2002)

As you will already be aware, I am a fan of zombie movies, and even though 28 Days Later does not technically feature the undead, it is nevertheless considered part of the oeuvre. The problem is that just about everything in this movie had already been done by George A. Romero in his “Dead” series, and done far better. Utterly unconvincing, a surprising lack of sympathetic characters and what the hell are the writers saying about the British army? That within a month of society collapsing, every British soldier will turn into a gang rapist?! Offensive and not very imaginative.

3. Billy Elliot (2000)

How many times must we subject ourselves to yet more remakes of The Jazz Singer? It’s such a hackneyed old story: young boy defies his domineering father’s wishes to pursue his chosen career and eventually succeeds, not only in his unorthodox choice of career but in winning his father’s love and respect. Ahh… Even Bend It like Beckham ploughed the same furrow. I kept hearing about how charming and touching Billy Elliot was. So I watched it. And it’s neither. It’s dull, predictable and utterly charmless. I hope the musical’s an improvement.

2. Moulin Rouge (2001)

Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear… Don’t get me wrong: I’ve nothing against camp movies. I loved Rocky Horror and Flash Gordon. But Moulin Rouge? Give me a break. Trite nonsense. Very lush and rich looking, but in the end it was over-acted melodrama that didn’t even have the style to have its own original soundtrack. “Oh, let’s have a cover version of a Nirvana track performed by 19th century Frenchmen in Paris’s red light district!” “Oh, darling, that’s inspired!” No, it’s not, it’s rubbish. And another thing (and I say this as an Elton John fan), did they really have to have Ewan McGregor sing “Your Song”, like, to death? Avoid.

1. Mamma Mia! (2008)

I think the exclamation mark makes it even worse, somehow. A fantastic movie, I’m sure, if you’re part of a hen night out, but that’s the nicest thing I can bring myself to say about this car crash of a film. It has no redeeming features. It was over acted, contrived and embarrassing. Why ruin classic pop songs by getting this shower to perform them? Oh, I’ve just thought of something else good about it: if you ever feel the need to warm up and you don’t want to turn on the heating, just recall Julie Walters’ performance of “Take a Chance On Me” at the end, and you’ll blush so much you’ll feel the need to fan yourself. The only thing worse than that was the finale, when Meryl Streep and the other two appear on screen dressed high-LARiously in 1970s get-up to lead the audience in an old fashioned traditional sing-along. Marvellous. No. If you have the DVD in your house, get a priest round to exorcise it NOW!

I’VE BEEN toying for a while now with the idea of inviting others to write guest posts on this blog. But how to choose the lucky contributors? By completely random selection, of course. So I donned a blindfold, opened the phone book and took a blind stab… and look whose name I picked out: that’s right! Mrs Carolyn Harris, wife of some MP or other…

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Tom has asked several people, me included, to write a guest post on his blog over the summer. When he first asked me, my initial thought was: “Great, now I have my chance to finish his stupid blog off forever.” On further reflection, I decided my policy of staying quiet in his shadow was probably the best one to pursue. Non-political as I am, I knew whatever I wrote about would only encourage the usual suspects to leave comments pinning the blame for whatever I mentioned on the Labour government.

However, returning home from an event in the constituency this evening (where I wore stiletto heels, but hey, thanks to the TUC for caring. Tom is 6’4’’, and I am… well, let’s just say I am not – so the stilettos are staying), we heard the sad news that the film director John Hughes has died at the age of 59.  Another part of our childhood gone.

As some of you will know, (although not Johnny Norfolk obviously), John Hughes  wrote and directed some of the classic 1980s brat pack films such as Pretty in Pink, The Breakfast Club and Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.

In the 1990s he directed the Home Alone films and Planes, Trains and Automobiles. Not all of these films have aged well, but they still form the backing track to much of our childhood. Over the past couple of years (even though I am still considerably younger than Tom), I am starting to become increasingly aware of my mortality — maybe having children does that to you. But it seems that over a relatively few months, all of the people who make up the familiar pieces of life’s security blanket have begun to pass away. Everything was alright with the world as long as there was Radio 4; now John Peel, Alan Coren, Miles Kington, Ned Sherrin and Humphrey Lyttleton have all gone. Tony Hart, Oliver Postgate too. And now John Hughes.

So goodbye teenage angst, overblown Simple Minds soundtracks and rubbish American dancing.

We won’t forget about you… etc.