Tony Kiernan

I used to have problem with Charlie Brooker. There was some media-celebrated enfant terrible thing going on that he never really measured up to. But, following Nathan Barley and his lauding of Blink I’m beginning to get a grasp on where he’s coming from. I realise that if we need ‘cultural commentators’ they should all be like him.

In his Grauniad colum he makes a perfect nail/head interface regarding going for an MRI scan

You glide inside surprisingly quickly, to find yourself staring upwards into a universe of featureless white. And then the noise starts. It didn’t sound like knocking to me: more like an Aphex Twin gig. A series of stop-start electronic tones, buzzes, rumbles and alarms resonated through my head and neck. “This is what being a modem must be like,” I thought, gazing into the bleached nothingness. It lasted about 20 minutes: more than enough time for anyone to start feeling seriously weird. Soon I became convinced I was having my mind wiped in a sci-fi thriller. Two minutes longer and I’d have been squeezing the freak-out teat and babbling about seeing through the Matrix.

Next week: Mark Kermode is still a buffoon, but I don’t want to kill him any more.

Courtesy of Graham Linehan’s quite interesting blog, a link to a Q&A session at this years Tedfest.

And, if even the mention of Dermot Morgan doesn’t reduce you to a sniveling wreck, you have no soul.

Tucked away in yesterday’s Grauniad:

Trevor Howard, the star of the 1945 movie Brief Encounter, earned the respect of his peers recounting his brave military past, parachuting into Nazi-occupied Norway and taking part in the Allied invasion of Sicily. After his death, Public Record Office files revealed that he had been invalided out of the army and judged to be mentally unstable with a “psychopathic personality”.

Respeck!

Spike Jonze has made a film for skate footwear company Lakai. This is most bodacious (or whatever the hep young things are saying these days).

Loosely connected, here is the excellent new Fatboy Slim video for his dreadful take on the dreadful Steve Miller track The Joker

This comes via Hobotopia, because of what happens at around 0:55 into it. But, more of that later….

The Grauniad:

But that’s not the main reason I’ve never been tempted to go skiing: it’s the people. The moment anyone tells me they’re going skiing, I start to dislike them. This is because I’ve constructed my own imaginary version of a skiing holiday in my head: it involves a fistful of self-satisfied bastards called Dan and Izzy and Sam and Lucy sharing a chalet together, drinking wine while listening to Mark Ronson on Izzy’s iPod speakers, taking 15,000 photos of each other guffawing and pulling silly faces, and occasionally venturing outside to slide down a hill on a pair of glorified planks, at which point with any luck they hurtle headlong into a tree, snapping at least three limbs in the process, and the holiday ends with them lying on their back, twitching like a half-crushed spider, exposed shards of shinbone gleaming in the winter sun as they scream for an air ambulance at the top of their idiot lungs.

Bagsy Mohamed Al Fayed. Accidental, of course.

You can imagine it. Round at Dreamworks someone finds an old option down the back of the couch. blows the dust off it. Flippin’ ‘eck. we should give this to Tim Burton. On paper, the combination of every goth’s favourite film director and bloodsoaked musical Sweeney Todd makes perfect sense. And, deservedly so.

Think of Burton. Go on. What do you see? Whatever it is, it’s exactly how this film looks. Fantasy and fantastic. It’s the Victorian London of Jack The ripper and Fagin. Fantastically rendered in trademark near-monochrome. (There’s some really dodgy CGI under the titles, which - although a minor complaint - just seems sloppy.) It’s Burton at his most Burtonesque. Yet he manages not to slip into a caricaturing himself. Brilliant.

As is the cast. Johnny Depp in the titular role being gorgeous and mad. He pulls of a pretty good Anthony Newley impersonation for the singing which is considerably more impressive than his efforts in Cry Baby (which I like, BTW). Helena Bohnam Carter does the mad cat-lady thing she does these days. And provides a good enough foil for Depp.

Alan Rickmanout nasty’s himself in fantastic scenery chewing form. Timothy Spall is brilliant as his slimy sidekick. Looking to all intents as if he’s been plucked straight from a Dickensian engraving.

It’ll probably come as no surprise to know I’m no great fan of Sacha Baron Cohen. But, he turns in a fantastic cameo here. As celebrity barber Pirrelli he gets to do his silly voice, but in the grotesque/cartoonish setting it works. Unlike the misanthropic verité of most of his other work. And, also worth mentioning is newcomer Ed Sanders as a completely non-irritating singing kid. Older than his years and definitely not the last we’ll see of him.

Interestingly, that’s actually most of the cast. Except the ‘clean’ young lovers who are also perfectly decent. It’s just they have those parts that really don’t inspire any real interest.

But, (and you knew there had to be one) it’s a Stephen Sondheim musical. And I don’t care, he’s, frankly, rubbish. I mean have you actually listened to Send In The Clowns? No, really listened. It’s not the tune you think it is. Seriously, the melody that title makes you think of does not exist. It’s a tribute to how well made this film is that the direness of the source material cannot stop it being thoroughly entertaining. Well done all concerned.

WTF?!?!?

So, I’ve finally got to see all of this movie. What can I tell you? I love the films of the Coen brothers. Even to the point of being probably far too charitable about their last two. This is the professed back-to-form work. So, it’s genius: Go see it. I’ll try and be more specific by looking at some of it’s 8 Oscar nominations.

Only place to start is shoe-in of Javier Bardem for best supporting actor. It’s a remarkable performance. Not only for the haircut (which seems to have gotten a lot of press). He manages to make a fairly dark and evil character both more terrifying and a lot more human. This isn’t really as contradictory as it would seem, the thought of any human behaving as he does is where the terror of the performance lies.

My only real problem with the nomination is that it’s the supporting one. Bardem’s part is one of the three that make the centre of the story. (Although, there’s no-one with any sense betting against Daniel Day Lewis for the non-Supporting award, so probably for the best). The other two are also a pair of cracking performances. Josh Brolin is an absolute revelation. He’s a name I know and someone I assumed I’ve seen in tons of stuff, this turns out to be untrue. Based on this, his time may have come. And, of course, Tommy Lee Jones. Had Dan Brown written this he probably would have just described sheriff Ed Tom Bell as looking and sounding just like Jones. Luckily Cormac McCarthy has a lot more talent. Even if the outcome is pretty much the same. (Of course, had Brown written they’d've had to cast Tom Hanks instead.) But, even Jones manages to out Tommy Lee himself here. No-one has ever looked so craggy. He’s almost a war-torn Droopy personified.

I’d have had Woody Harrelson and Kelly Macdonald down as the ’supporting’ cast. Both of whom are fantastic here. The latter in particular bringing the only real edge of heroism to the story. Stupid, but heroic.

Best adapted screenplay. I’ve never seen a novel take so completely from page to screen. I don’t know if reading this knowing that the film was on it’s way was a good or bad thing. It seemed to read just like a Coen’s script. And, they obviously think so too, making very little in the way of changes. They trim a little of the Sheriff’s reminiscences, but that’s about all I can differentiate. McCarthy’s cadences fit brilliantly with the type of dialogue that the brothers have always loved to play with. They even manage to keep the humanity and humour (yes, you read that right) that hold such a bleak tale together. IMO, it’s an object lesson in how to treat your source material (starting with something so suited to you it’s not funny being point 1). Unfortunately, I reckon the sensible money’ll be on Ronald Harwood for The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. Although, I’ve yet to see it.

Long term Coen collaborator Roger Deakins is up for best cinematography. And yes, the film looks fantastic. There’s a brilliant grainy quality to it. And, the sense of place and landscape is awesome. (Interestingly the film was shot mostly in New Mexico as West Texas doesn’t look like that anymore.) It’s not flash or showy, but damn spectacular.

It’s also up for film editing. Oh yeah, some great cuts. You don’t notice them first time, a good sign. Also sound editing and sound mixing. There’s one gut-wrenchingly tense scene based on the sound, but I’m sure that’s not everything for this. Again, you don’t really notice it so it must be good. That’s right, isn’t it?

And, then there’s the big two: Best director and best picture. The former, I so hope. As far as film making goes, you don’t get better than this IMO. And, it’s gonna take one helluva film to better this this year. I do suspect that Mr D Lewis and his bleedin’ oil may wipe the board at the awards. Which I also haven’t seen.

One last thing: What does it all mean? I’m not certain, but I know it’s heavy. I don’t think that there’s any coincidence in McCormac setting it in 1980, when Reagan was elected to the Whitehouse. The more I’m thinking of this the more I’m convinced it’s an anti-capitalist/globalisation tract. I must go see/read again.

All of them by the looks of it.

Interesting analysis of the Culture, Media and Sport select committee report into the secondary ticket market - or, touting as we all know it - over at The Register. Basically, if a proposed online subsidy for ticket sales comes into place, the punters will lose and the promoters will win. As it ever were.

Interestingly (despite the headline Artists ‘must benefit from touts’) the BBC emphasise the point that The MPs’ report calls for a voluntary industry code of conduct for reselling.

In general, I dislike touts. However, I have on occasion had to call upon them to get myself into gigs. A few of times I’ve paid nearly twice face value for tickets (usually when I’m kicking myself for not having got tickets for the second night). And, more often I’ve got into something at the last minute for less than face value (still the best way to see anyone at the Brixton Academy, IMO). And, we’ve all picked up tickets for something and then had to offload one when someone in the party Mics out for the gig. The one price has already been paid for one person to access that one event on the one date. You don’t go getting extra dosh cos some of us have feckless mates.

Do barbers really sell your hair to wig makers? If so, does it subsidise the prices we pay? Or is that a little something extra on top? And, does it matter. We have a parliament of almost exclusively free-marketeers. I just wish they’d remember that.