Sherlock Holmes (2009)

I'm sure all of you have just been teetering on the edges of your seats to know what I thought about the much-anticipated Sherlock Holmes movie. Well, the fact that if it weren't for the ice currently making my driveway into a skating rink I would be going to see it a second time should give you a clue.

But first, the trailers which were on beforehand.

First of all, thanks be to all that is good in the world: there's a new Orange ad. Murray warned us that we'd get sick of the last one what with our constant cinema-going but I hadn't quite expected to be able to sing along. I'll enjoy this brief window of novelty for as long as possible, but before the month is out I expect I'll be sick of this one too.

But then, ladies and gentlemen, there came on the most wonderful thing possible: the trailer for Iron Man 2. It alone could silence the entire audience! It looks good. Really good. Well, as good as you can tell from a trailer; but it did it's job - I am now very excited and, more importantly, so are the people who haven't been following any scraps of news they can find (example: my sister). It was also very savvy to put it on before RDJ's other big movie, Sherlock Holmes.

I was pretty scared about this film to be honest. High expectations and literally months of anticipation can set a person up for a crushing disappointment, and I half thought that it would be unable to live up to the hype (speaking of which, I may do a seperate blog on the marketing campaign because it was pretty brilliant). But I put my fears aside and on Boxing Day me and my sister went to out nearest cinema to give it a go (the fact that it was an Odeon and thus, for the first time in months, I had to pay, shows my dedication).

And WOW. It managed to live up to what those trailers promised!

First of all, Robert Downey Jr... What an actor! Playing the loveable bastard genius is a tricky act, but he balances it perfectly, managing not to undermine the bastard aspects (thus making it ring false and trite) but instead luring you in with his brilliance (and Holmes is brilliant) and his sheer personal magnetism. There's a very nice touch (which occurs right at the start, so no fears about spoilers) where he analyses in slow-mo how exactly he's going to physically best his opponents, then does it. It's an excellent compromise between the canonical Holmes' dependence on his mind and the audience's desire for action. I don't mind the changes by the way, but that could just be because I'd only read a couple of stories.

Next must be Watson. Ah, dear Watson... I'm not an absolute Jude Law fan - he's been bad easily as many times as he's been good. But I chalk this one up for the Good Column: he's wonderfully active, Watson holding his own alongside Holmes. And I love their relationship, full of banter and co-dependency. It's perfect.

I love the way the setting is realised. It's grotty and muddy, but still pretty cool - it's like a steampunk vision of Victorian London, and in my books that's no bad thing. There was a bad moment when I thought it was going in an undesirable direction but thankfully my fears were in vain - it stays true to the spirit of the source. Easily, it's Guy Richie's best film. (But... I really dislike all ofhis other films, so that means nothing.)

So this was a rare case when the hype lived up to the fact: it's an exciting action adventure mystery with fun banter and great characters. A perfect winter blockbuster! All I could want more would be some insane Iron Man / Sherlock Holmes crossover. Think of it: two Robert Downey Jrs. I'm a genius.

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Constantine (2005)

I said in my Hellblazer post not to mention the film version, and then what did Channel 5 go and do? They put the film on last night! It was just a bit too much of a crazy random happenstance to let go, so I tuned in.

Now, I made a big effort to turn off the crazed fangirl part of my brain and enjoy it as a film and for the most part I succeeded, with only minimal shouting at the screen. I still need to geta few things off my chest:

John Constantine is British.

He is also blonde.

His name is NOT pronounced Constanteeeeen, it's Constanteyene.

However, none of those will make this a bad film, just irritate people who should really just relax (ie: me).

And actually, it's a pretty slick movie! The direction is excellent, with some beautiful shots - I especially love the penchant for symmetrical compositions, they're supposedly against the rules but I think they're structurally graceful. The CGI is of a very high standard, both in execution and visualization. A lot of imagination went into it and I really like the way Hell was a mirror image of the rest of the world.

Even the plot tweakings were good - I've just read the arc this was partially based on and the changes were good. Certain simplification were made (I'm being vague for the spoilerphobic!) but it worked within the shape of thr film. The writer really got the characterisation right too, with Constantine the compelling bastard he should be.

Which is where I will stop being so relentlessly positive for a spell, because the quality of the writing is let down by its vessel - a certain Keanu Reeves, destroyer of sci-fi. I can see why he's a popular casting choice - as well as the association with the ridiculously successful Matrix films he does possess a way of moving which is wonderfully graceful. Watch him walk - it's beautiful. Unfortunately, from the neck up it's bad news. He's just a bad actor! It's not even that no emotion crosses his face, because entire roles have been based on stony exteriors. It's that there is zero life in his eyes; soulless putting it kindly. That works occaisionally, like in a moment where he has to seem terrifyingly cold and emotionless. He deserves an Oscar for that! But when you need a character to show some emotion or even just put some expression into a line it pollutes the whole movie.

I'll get my other big gripe out of the way at the same time so I can end happily: they cast Lucifer absolutely wrong. This is what their Lucifer looks like:

This is what he should look like:

This isn't me with my nerd cap on, it would have made the film better. He should look like he belongs on the cover of GQ! I'd cast Cillian Murphy and dye his hair strawberry blonde, and I really quite want to adapt the Lucifer comics with this casting because WOW that would be good. (Jennifer Connelly as Mazikeen.)(This is after I make Good Omens with James MacAvoy as Crowley.)

Anway, back to the good stuff.

The rest of the casting was pretty genius. Rachel Weisz was reliably good, Djimon Hounsou stole every scene as Midnite, Shia LeBeouf popped up enexpectedly as poor put-upon Chas and Tilda Swinton... well. She has a knack for being brilliantly weird and she played Gabriel amazingly, with a creepy equilibrium and androgeny. It helpedthat the prosthetic wings were well done - really well done.

So having reconsidered, I can look at Constanteeeen as a good film, if somewhat of a missed opportunity. There, haven't I grown?


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My favourite Christmas movie...

Those who know me will know that this is a rather awkward request. Those who know me even better will be reminded of when my sister was told off in standard grade French for not co-operating. See, we don't do Christmas, and as such it isn't a time of year which induces fuzzy, nostalgic feelings; at best it's a very cold holiday when I couldn't even take the scooter out for ice on the roads. I'll give it a shot though.

I do spend the holidays gorging on films, mainly because there's nothing to do, and there are a great manyi can think of which I did watch last Christmas, but then they don't really fulfil the brief because they don't remind me of it, it's just a coincidence. I'll have to go with The Great Escape, because it was on every Boxing Day, and I watched it a fair few times. It's a very enjoyable film, full of famous moments and iconic images. If nothing else, it taught me to be wary of Germans wishing me good luck, and that nothing is cooler than Steve McQueen on a motorbike, not even me on a motorbike in sub zero temperatures.

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Dr Caligari (1919)

I got into watching German Expressionism films through my habit of relating every subject in high school to films. So, when I did Germany in history, I took a good look at the cinema of the time. I especially loved learning about Nazi propaganda, my essays generally read like film reviews. (Still, this is something I'm lookng forward to doing more of.) It came up again when I studied Brecht the next year and we were investigating the cultural landscape of Weimar Germany, a weird and fascinating time for film, theatre and music. I didn't find the experience today completely alien then.

Some aspects were inevitably tricky for a modern audience: the lack of sound means actors had to be theatrically expressive, and it does come across as hammy these days. Also, it's not exactly frightening to see a murder thanks to our general desensitization.

That said, I do think "Dr Calligari" is still a mightily impressive film. Visually, it's braver and more inventive than most big-budgetted films and the skewed geography is brilliantly disturbing. Maybe now there would have been more Dutch angles to show it off even more, but perhaps cameras weren't so flexible, I don't know. The intertitles, too, are a world away from plain black functional ones, evocing the madman's voice.

Overall, I enjoyed it. It still isn't the kind of film I would put on if I was sick, but it holds great fascination and I reckon we can learn from the early filmmakers.

Hellblazer (1988)

As promised, my latest blog about what I've been reading will be about comics! Those of youfollowing my terror on Facebook will know that I've been reading Hellblazer. A little background: the character of John Constantine first appeared in the DC comic "Swamp Thing" (which, as far as I can tell from a couple of issues, is about a swamp creature who falls in love with a human... Anyway...) and from there got his own series,"Hellblazer", as well as going on to appear in "Swamp Thing", "Sandman" and "Lucifer" occaisionally.

One of my favourite things about Constantine is that he breaks the mould of superheroes by having no super-powers to speak of. He's just a bloke, and not a particularly good bloke at that. When he jumps off a moving train he gets hurt (though luckily he has friends and enemies willing to help mortal out).

Altogether, the Hellblazer universe is different to what you might expect - it's gritty, grimy and, crucially, set in Britain. The storylines, while supernatural, address the kinds of problems besetting Britain at this point at the tail end of Thatcherism; bigotry, unemployment, pollution. That last one is tackled most thoroughly in the most disturbing issue of the run I've read: "On The Beach." It captures the paranoia around nuclear power and nuclear hollocaust in a horrific dream sequence.

And John Constantine is a very British hero in that he smokes like a chimney and has very few redeeming qualities. I do love a good anti-hero, and it doesn't get better than a man who manipulates everyone around him and loses them as a consequence, quite probably by getting them killed. What sustains the series is that this is a character who realises his tragic flaw but is never able to overcome it, only use it to his advantage (and to help him save the world). Even when he gets a little respite it's shortlived.

He also has an iconic look. It's a good bet that even if you don't have a scoobie what I'm on about you would recognise the image: dishevelled hair, tatty trenchcoat and suit and a cigarette always hanging from his mouth. I may have actually cheered when he shed the hippie look for the sharp and dangerous man you can't help but love. There's even a TV Tropes page about it! (And if you've never wasted any time on there before give it a try, it's addictive!) The most obvious rip-off to me is Castiel in Supernatural, which bears a lot of comparison to Hellblazer anyway, who was purposely modelled after JC.

I've been reading the very earliest issues, only the first two years' worth, and the artwork so far is a dark horse. Some panels are beautiful and perfectly done while others are horrible likenesses, barely recognisable as human expressions let alone the characters in question. Overall the writing carries the drawings when they're poor but I do think a few panels could have done with a redraft. The actual covers are brilliant - if I saw those on a stand I would be compelled to look further.

Now, since I've only skimmed the surface here I guess I had better get myself down to the Mitchell Library to enroll. It's one of the cruelest ironies that now that I have moved within touching distance of a good comic book store, I no longer have a regular job and can't afford to indulge. Let's just hope the library is well stocked, since I think that a little bit more of this could convert me from being a Marvel* girl to DC.

Oh, and for everyone's sake don't mention the film.


*though I still love the ensemble basis of the Marvel universe

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Noises Off (1992)

This was recommended to me by Murray, who said that anyone who's ever been in a stage production will recognise their own experiences. My, was he right. Parts were a little too realistically cringe-worthy to make me laugh out loud since I was too busy hiding my face.

Calling each other "darling" is acceptable when you're there but just embarrassing to look at from outside. Then there's actors who need constant reasurance and directors who bullshit answers which could conceivably be genuine, and midnight rehearsals with exhausted, wired stage staff. The line "treat opening night as the dress rehearsal" gave me shivers.

I especially liked Michael Caine as Lloyd the director, thoroughly without redeeming features and full of his own importance. I wonder whether Caine drew on his own experience with directors for that?

The really clever high concept edge, though, is that the play being performed is a sex farce, but that what is going on backstage is just as farcical. It puts a clever spin on the old "play within a play" device. I am in awe of the choreography which must have gone into the elaborate business with costume, props and entrances and exits. Because that's what farce is - entrances, exits and business. My favourite part was the increasingly bathetic series of bouquets, from a beautiful bunch of lilies and roses to a potted cactus which, inevitably, is sat on.

I'll even forgive the overly cheery ending since it's only inkeeping with the traditions of farce.

So thank you Murray, got any more recommendations?

Coronation Street (4th December)

This is actually my first time watching Corrie, so I had absolutely no clue what was going on. Also, I don't know what any of the character names are, but then if I met 10 people for 20 minutes I probably couldn't get their names anyway.

One of the major plotlines was clearly the affair going on between the girl who works in the shop and the married man with two daughters. I liked the way they did it, it was obvious without being absolutely spelled out. He has troubles of his own, with one of his daughters about to sit her GCSEs and also, I think, about to be baptised. She feels like she never gets any attention, whereas her tearaway sister does. I would guess that this plotline is going to end up with the man's wife finding out about the affair, and much heartbreak for all involved.

Another is the golf rivary between the shop owner and another guy (sorry about the lack of names, I just really couldn't catch them!) which offered some comic relief from the more serious stories.

There was more comedy from the two girls preparing for the panto, who were great friends while acting (there were lots of actor-friendly jokes about warming up the facial muscles etc) but who quickly wound up fighting once they'd had a few drinks. I reckon their rivalry is a long-standing thing, and that they have never really gotten along and have only recently buried the hatchet.

The other main plotline was about the man wanting to open a pub, and the obstacles to that. He is a recovering alcoholic, and his father is set against his plan. George, the ex-alcoholic's son, Simon's, grandfather I think, is quite wealthy and has offered to invest in the business, but the other grandfather is jealous of his wealth and thinks this is just an attempt to buy Simon's affections. At the end of the episode there has been a big fall out, with the other grandfather threatening to do anything he can to stop his son from opening a pub, and the son accepting George's money. I can see this story continuing for a very long time, possibly months as the pub is opened and character's motivations become clear. I want to believe that George is being genuine, but who can tell? This is the sort of slow-burning suspense which draws you into soaps, you have to watch for a very long time to see the pay-off.

Creative Beginnings: football (aka: How I Learned How To Stop Worrying And Love The Cold

Is the stadium half full or half empty? For Partick Thistle vs Dundee it was definitely on the half empty side.

Thanks first of all to the drivers of the group, we really couldn't have done it without you! Murray with his navigational skills and Julia with her intrepid following ability...

I really don't think we could have looked more out of place; even if the BBC hadn't already advertised our presence we would have stuck out. All I knew was that I was grateful for every layer I had on. We were sat right at the front, mostly under the cover but we did get stray gusts of wind carrying raindrops to remind us that we were outside. It gave us an excellent view, and a rather unusual one for those of us who'd only watched on tv before. (Quote of the day: "I keep looking for the score at the top left and it just isn't there!")

For  added authenticity, I sampled the Bovril and nibbled on a piece of the promised "half time pie" but regretted it very quickly. Even worse, the attempt to wash out the taste with coffee just formed some kind of unholy trinity in my mouth that just wouldn't shift.

Aside from all this griping though, I had a good time. We had the adventure of getting there, and then trying to park (kudos to Julia again!) and the chat was, as usual, excellent. I also think I got the point of the exercise:

I was completely disengaged from what was going on in front of me. It's not because I don't know the rules because I do in fact know the basics - definitely enough to follow a match - it's just because I have no emotional investment in it. So when I watched England vs Brazil all those years ago I could cheer them on because I felt represented somehow; the point of your football team is that you're a part of it, even if you couldn't kick a stationary ball more than two feet. And I wasn't a part of either team, so it didn't impact me when Mr Blue scored a goal aside from the cold appreciation of their reflexes.

How is this a point, let alone anything relevant you ask? Well first, for me, football doesn't make all that much sense, but for some people sitting and watching a play or a drama doesn't make sense either. And also, it really is important when you're writing to make people join a side. If they aren't engaged, like me at a football match, then they won't care about anything that happens.

Now I'm just off to check how defrosting my toes is going, wish me luck.

Chaplin: The Kid (1921), Goldrush (1925)

It is really isn't hard to imagine Charlie Chaplin being the most famous man on earth, and the Little Tramp being universally loved. He's still instantly recognisable - show anyone a picture and I'm pretty sure they would have a vague understanding of who it was, even if they'd never seen any of his films. He's iconic, it would be like asking someone what a dalek was before 2005 - they'd probably know, but they wouldn't know how. And the Litttle Tramp is such a loveable character - he's the everyman, with the same problems  and weaknesses as the rest of us, but with a sweet naivety and a heart of gold.

Neither films seemed horribly outdated to me. The film stock was lower quality, yes, but the way Chaplin used it was masterful. I could spot the editing grammar we still use creeping in, and some of the technical effects were still impressive: running the film backwards so it looked like Charlie was catching the bricks instead of dropping them. Simple genius.

And they're just so funny. The bricks I mentioned above were hilarious, and then there's the whole extended scene with the lift and the gag you kept expecting to happen but never came, instead there was a different, even funnier, gag. In Goldrush, even something as simple as the little tramp being followed by a black bear and only turning round when it has left him was funny.

Both films also have bags of emotion to them. In The Kid, it's the heart wrenching part where you think Charlie and the kid have been permanently parted, and it's unbearable. The silent emoting should look ridiculous and as overblown as a panto actor in a tv drama, but it works and it feels real. As does the kiss at the end of Goldrush, which we found out was in fact real, which explains quite a bit. Also the beauty of the moment when the little tramp, now a millionaire, finds that Georgia does in fact care about him, without even knowing about his wealth. And the reason this all looks and feels real for the viewer must be that it was real for Chaplin - he lived this.

The coincidence of these screenings with Richard's lessons on opening us up and making us look at ourselves as fodder for scriptwriting is either very very cleverly joined up, or just a happy accident. But it has made me think that you really can see when someone is creating truthfully from something they know, whether it's acting, writing or directing. And the strength of Chaplin's films are that he did everything, so it was his vision we see, and it happened to be brilliant. Of course, not everyone is Charlie Chaplin, but it does motivate me to try to achieve that unity of purpose in what I do, whether I'm holding the reigns or realising someone else's idea.

I seem to have a thing for internet musicals...

...especially ones featuring Neil Patrick Harris...

Anyway, Proposition 8 - The Musical is hilarious, astute and only 3 minutes long. Check it out!

Iron Man (2008)

I think I get Andy's pleasure in watching us watch his favourite films, since on Friday night I got to see Dilara watch Iron Man for the first time. It was brilliant!

Iron Man definitely falls into the category of films which I saw and loved instantly, the circumstances under which I saw it inextricably linked with that. I had seen the trailer - one of the best comic book trailers for ratcheting up excitement - and decided on one of my few days in Glasgow that I just had to go and see it, lack of willing company be damned! So I was by myself in the middle of Cineworld's biggest screen and from the get-go it just blew me away. Back in Black! Robert Downey Jr! Banter! Explosions! Yay!

The second time I saw it was two days after I bought the DVD; I'd seen it sitting on a shelf in Tescos and just couldn't resist (though I did buy the cheapskate's vanilla version). Unfortunately, at the time of watching I had just crashed my scooter and was in shock. Suddenly that scene on the freeway was the most terrifying piece of cinema ever. Especially this bit:

Ouch.

Since then, I've watched this film far, far too many times to be healthy. Once, I even watched it twice in a weekend. I just keep coming back!

Part of why I love it undoubtedly is that I'm a comicbook nerd, and also that I'm a comicbook nerd who likes comicbook films (or at least good comicbook films). The last decade or so has been a sequence of some really brilliant superhero films from the two big publishers aimed at a broad market. I put this down to a combination of the comics generation coming of age and getting the power to make movies, and the mainstreaming of "graphic novels". You can now find a graphic novel section in most Waterstones, stocking everything from manga to Moore alongside the eminently respectable books such as Persepolis. It has even been rumoured that girls have been found in Forbidden Planet!

As an adaption, Iron Man is very, very good. It takes the Batman Begins approach of casting a serious actor, rationalising the science* and having genuine character development. Watching, we DFTV-ers spotted (and remarked on, much to the amusement of the random vet student also watching) that it has a classic three-act structure, with a Protagonist and Antagonist, a Helper, clearly defined Goals and Obstacles and a Final Confrontation where it all comes together. Important plot points are signposted and the comic relief does its job without interfering with the tone. It's simple, effective and I love it to bits.

It hits all the points a mass audience wants: who is this guy? what's he doing? yay, explosions! and still manages to appeal to the central geeky part of the audience who can laugh over Jarvis being a computer, and go crazy at the hidden scene with Nick Fury after the credits. We can spot the latest Stan Lee cameo and get excited about Rhodey possibly-maybe being War Machine in the sequel.

But if it was just a film ticking off a list of fanservice, or just an exciting bunch of CGI fight sequences, I wouldn't care. I genuinely believe that Iron Man is in a tradition of films which have something important to say and by being populist get that message to as wide an audience as possible - in short, it's exactly the kind of film I want to make. If out of the millions of people who watched a few hundred thousand were made to think about the arms trade, then surely that's an achievement worth making.

It's also a peculiarly American perspective, which is why I think some people don't like it. In the film's moral world, the problem isn't America having weapons, it's everyone else. So Tony Stark can swoop in and save the day, using his judgement and superior technology; it's double dealing and greed which needs to be stopped. It's intensely patriotic and pro-military, in other words really American, and not quite to British tastes. A British Tony Stark would take up knitting, or possibly arrange a tea-party with the terrorists.

But aside from all the deep themey bits, I just love the look. The CGI is fantastic, the actors are good-looking, the design is beautiful (my architect sister fell in love with Tony Stark when she saw his house) and the fight scenes are well choreographed. I was thinking about what Andy said about the geography of editing, and I think Iron Man does a good job of maintaining a clear through-line of action.

And if all that wasn't enough, Robert Downey Jr was fantastic. The whole purpose of our evening was an RDJ night (Chaplin reminded a bunch of us that we absolutely love him to itty bitty pieces) and he really doesn't disappoint. He can do comedy, emotion and action equally well, and he even has the right sort of look for the comicbook Tony Stark. Shallowness aside (difficult as that may be considering:

but I'll do my best) he is a brilliant actor: likable through his playboy habits, believable as a genius engineer an above all:

*though my science student friend next to me laughs at this - I mean it's internally consistent

Citizen Kane (1941)

It is difficult to add my opinion to such a well-worn film - who am I to decree whether it's the greatest film to be made? (And as one of the most consistently critically lauded films, it's a question you have to consider.)

The story is told cleverly non-linearly, with us piecing events together the same as the journalistic, putting together a picture of  Charles Foster Kane built from the opinions of those around him. It's always a very interesting way of looking at a character, contrasting the public, professional and personal views of him. It works that the journalist fails in his search for the meaning of "Rosebud": in the end, the point is that one word can never encapsulate a life, and what he learnt in the process was more revealing. Still the reveal to audience was important - how annoying would it have been if we never found out what "rosebud" meant?

The visual inventiveness is legendary, from the use of deep focus and mobile cameras and what struck me powerfully was that it still manages not to look dated. Stylistically, it's incredibly modern, with the only thing marking it out being the film stock. Welles uses every trick in the book, a few of which he wrote himself, to create the maximum meaning in shots. I particularly love the way Xanadu is shot, its imposing size only rivalled by its larger than life owner thanks to the expressionistic angles and sets. I also love the way the black and white is used - it's crisp and atmospheric. I even like that you can see pterodactyls flying in the background for one scene.

Orson Welles is inarguably the star - his direction, his acting, his vision makes Citizen Kane what it is. Among all its strengths, I think the brilliance of his performance is often overlooked; it's a very physically demanding performance with the transition from a young man into a blustering dinosaur. The contrast between his youthful fluidity and his stiffness in old age is just perfect, and perfectly complementary to the aging make-up, which is also top-notch.

I still don't think it can categorically be called the best film of all time; for one, I haven't seen every film ever made (and nor has anyone else) and also, it's a depressing thought that the bar was set 60 years ago and never matched. I do, however, believe that it's a brilliant film decades ahead of its time.

Personal reflection: technical fundamentals formative assessment AKA: aaaargh, where is the record button?

A few weeks ago, I had my first case of pre-exam freaking out in the academy. When faced with any kind of assessment, my natural reaction is to panic, stress and worry, though the only external sign is usually a twitching eyebrow and a lot of revision; so despite assurances that this assessment was a progress test not a maker-or-breaker I was nervous.

Thankfully, it went pretty well. I remembered how to calibrate my monitor and viewfinder with only a little reference to my notes to make sure I was doing it right and Ray said it was good, with just a bit of tweaking required. I ran into a bit of a snag with a faulty BNC but once I'd run through everything else (am I using the right inputs/outputs? are the batteries charged? have I switched them on?) I tried out a different cable and it was all fine. Setting the timecode was a doddle, but then in a bathetic twist I floundered trying to find the record button. Really, how silly is that? Once I'd combed the entire camera, I found a likely-looking button, hit it and success! I'd found the elusive thing, just in time to dismantle the kit.

Overall, I'm pleased with how I did but it's abundantly clear I need more practice - eventually I'd like this to be second nature so that I can get on with recording things rather than just looking for buttons. I'd also like to think that I could stop worrying unnecessarily but I have a greater chance of becoming a mathematical prodigy; worrying is what I do.

The Seagull (RSAMD 2009)

In the interests, of switching things up a bit, let's have a blog about the theatre!

Along with Harry and Chris, I went to see the 3rd year actors' production of The Seagull, Anton Chekhov's first full play. I was especially pleased since it gave me the chance to see what I'd studied at great length at school - we had looked specifically at how Chekhov's plays influenced the Moscow Art Theatre and Stanislavski's practices, and I wanted to know whether they had decided to go down the 'system' route or were going at it differently. As it turns out, it was more Hamlet era MAT than early MAT.

The actors were all very good, though I would say that a few would be better suited to on-screen acting than onstage. One in particular struggled vocally, and while that could be because of illness or strain, it was a shame - it sounded as if she had dropped her vocal range by about an octave in order to project, which really isn't the point at all. Another, I think needed to delineate herself and her character more clearly, but then she had the challenge of playing an actress, which is deceptively tricky. Kostya, his mother and uncle were especially strong: absorbing stage presences and consistent physically and vocally. Masha was a tad over the top, but then it's in the character's nature to be hysterical; perhaps my taking against the character was intentional? As an ensemble, they gelled very well - the collective scenes felt very realistic, and I liked the little touches of background activity even while the focus was on a smaller group.

I almost don't want to say it, but I think the star of the show may well have been TPA. Well done you guys! The set was ingenious and meticulously detailed - I loved the way they had cabinets and the things on them separate by fixing plates, ornaments etc onto boards which then slotted into the furniture. The problem of one floor surface needing to serve as both indoors and outside was met with a very clever melding of wooden boards into bark chips, and an overall design style which was far enough into representational to make that work. My absolute favourite thing, though, was the change that occurred between Act 3 and 4 during the interval - what better metaphor is there for the change undergone by the characters than the destruction of the set and the opening up of the wings? It was bold, inspired, and quite possibly the best piece of set design I've seen since Black Watch's pool table.

The only real downside to the evening was the lack of legroom - they may have just redone the Athanaeum, but they designed the seating for people with very short legs indeed, and this is coming from me, so that shows you just how cramped we're talking here.

Thank you Jon Stewart

This has cheered me up a lot.

V (2009)

Through the power of modern technology I watched the recent pilot for V, the remake of the 80s V - a sci-fi story about reptilian aliens. Sounded fun.

And technically, it was very good. The CGI was pretty good, there were no glaring pacing problems, they had a strong enough cast including some of my favourites (Inara and Wash from Firefly and Juliet from Lost), and the basic premise is interesting.

What completely and utterly turned me off it was the politics. Sci-fi as a genre always carries ideologies - as does all tv, but the hypothetical nature of science fiction makes it that much clearer, and V wore its neo-conservative on its sleeve. Outsiders *cough*immigrants*cough* are sinister and evil, and what form does their evil take? UNIVERSAL HEALTHCARE! Oh no, save us from the universal healthcare! Burn the witch! Burn it!

Seriously, if this is its way of staying current - tapping into the zeitgeist - then count me out. America is terrified of a healthcare system that doesn't condemn the poor to death - what sort of person wants to poke that fear with a reptilian alien shaped stick? I'm going to assume it's someone who's fully insured and who voted McCain in the last election, and no I don't mean tasty oven chips.

This has made me angry, especially since the makers have been all too keen to point how feminist it is to cast two women in powerful roles. Well, good for you - doesn't improve my mood any.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to find something a little less neo-con. Maybe I'll watch Fox News...

Blade Runner (1982)

I was so excited when I saw we'd get to see this in the Final Cut version on a big(ish) screen. It's a strangely compelling film, and you who saw it this way for the first time - you don't know how lucky you are!

Part of why I love it is the film noir look, which is a style I really love in all its permutations (original noir, neo noir, horror noir, and this, future noir). Some of the details are purely fatuous - ceiling fans? trench coats? that's just window dressing. I really hate when a film adopts the outward characteristics of a genre without capturing its heart, it's like watching a bad actor put on the voice and the silly walk and completely kill a role. Thankfully, Blade Runner is noir through and through, with the detective story, the dark palette and, absolutely essentially, the anti-hero.

Because Deckard, whether you think he's a guy or not (see below for discussion ad nauseum of Deckard's status), is not a good guy. He kills without remorse, he drinks (that old staple of detective drama!) and his relationship with Rachel could charitably be called assault. And yet, through the magic of the movies, this guy is our white hat. Part of why it works is that it's Harrison Ford. This guy was able to play lovable rogues when dinosaurs roamed the earth (he made two of the biggest franchises of the century - Indiana Jones and Star Wars [don't even mention Mark Hamil, Han Solo was where it was at]). Plus, a brutally efficient character comes across very well in these kinds of films, far better than some sub-emo moral doubt. It's just a movie thing I guess.

I'm going to give an honourable mention to Gaff, played by Edward James Olmos because to me Edward James Olmos = Commander Adama, end of. Plus, you can credit him with coming up with "cityspeak", the peculiar hybrid language spoken in the film which was brilliant prescient in creating a cultural mix with heavy emphasis on oriental language and culture.*

Blade Runner is another excellent case of sci-fi taking a philosophical stand and examining religious and existential themes - what does it mean to be human? what would you do if you met your creator? the answer here is gouge his eyes out...**

Part of what makes it fun is the fact that there's so much to speculate on! Of course, this doesn't work with the majority of the audience who, quite understandably, would like to know what the hell is going on but for the geekier elements, it's hours of entertainment.

Take the question of whether Deckard is a replicant: according to Ridley Scott, he definitely is. But Harrison Ford said, "We had agreed that he definitely was not a replicant", and many of the other people who worked on the film agree, including the producer Michael Deeley: "That was just a bullshit, an extra layer Ridley put in. Also an obfuscation." But I've always believed you should trust the tale and not the teller, so you have to do your own Film Noir style detective hunt for the facts. Unfortunately, since the creators had no consistent plan, neither does the story. While it does make sense in many ways for Deckard to be a replicant (his emotional immaturity, his ability to take a beating, his needing to be filled in on basic details) they could just as easily be faults in the production, and it clashes with the fact that if Deckard was one of the six escapees, surely Pris, Leon and Zhora would recognise him? Also, I think that if you make Deckard a replicant you take away from the contrast between man and machine. It is interesting to think of what it says about humans if you contrast the affectionate behaviour between Pris and Roy with Deckard's roughness with Rachel, and it makes the final fight a matter of man vs his creation instead of just two robots hitting each other.

For me, the most compelling evidence that Deckard is a replicant is the whole business with the unicorn. If you interpret it as an imprinted memory, which Gaff knows about and refers to with the origami unicorn, then it makes sense. Otherwise, it's just a random unicorn, and those are terribly rare these days.

Still, I don't have the definitive answer - I don't actually think there is one. It's just something which is fun to play about with.

Having reached such a stunning conclusion, I finish yet another of my geeky blog posts.

*Seen also in the brilliant series Firefly 

** Religion is a bit of a pattern when it comes to AI/robot stories, understandably, but I think I Robot does a really good job of being a non-typical philosophical robot film (what a sentence!) by actually looking at robots when it looks at robots, not at humanity. Or at least, not entirely; it derives its main theme from actual laws of robotics and offers really interesting insights into that. Plus - Will Smith. Need I say more?

Battlestar Galactica (2003-2009)

From the way that I seem to mention it every time tv comes up, you may already know that I love this show. If you're mystified as to what I was on about, then let me just say: go the library, take out the boxset, and watch it. I'd ask you what you've been doing with the last six years but the answer is probably "having a life".

For the spoilerphobic, don't worry. I've deliberately made this spoiler free because I'm trying to be evangelical.

The story follows the last humans left alive in a futuristic setting after a genocidal attack by the Cylons, a race of robots invented by the humans but who rebelled. From that, it could sound rather hokey - robots? spaceships? nah thanks.

What makes it work is first of all, that the creators made this world so detailed, from the Battlestar itself to the recurring hexagon designs. The militarty parts feel very real, and it's definitely in the school of sci-fi which shows you battered, lived-in spaceships rather than shiny white perfection.

For a sci-fi show, it's also determinedly realistic, with characters facing problems which range from the mundane to the cataclysmic, and actions having consequences episodes, sometimes whole seasons, down the line. It is actually addressed that this fleet needs to find fuel, food and water, and that it has limited weapons.

And then there's the fact that over the course of very few episodes, you get to know and love the characters. They're all a little messed up, and they all make mistakes, but it's because of that I care. So when some revelation is made, or when a character dies/nearly dies/kinda dies (if you've seen it you'll know what I mean) it hurts. It feels like even when they're not onscreen, people are living their lives. A tiny character who you thought was just a one episode wonder turns out to be pivotal for the entire series; it's been funny re-watching it seeing characters' beginnings again, having seen where they end up.

If you're put off sci-fi because it is overwhelmingly laddish, then you'll be glad to hear that there are plenty of really strong female characters on the show. They call the shots, they shoot the guns, they have meaningful storylines beyond love interests

One of the main things I love about sci-fi is its ability to take abstract themes and examine them, and BSG has a ball with that. Its whole central theme is about God, creation and destiny, with a whole bunch of others on the side. The great episodes engage your brain and your emotions, and the majority of episodes are good (I'm really not sold on one of the season 5 arcs, and its climactic episode was absolutely awful, but that's the worst episode of the whole series).

A good tactic if you're unsure would just be to watch the mini-series (it's the first disc of the boxset) and see if you like it. It's only the length of a film and it sets up the characters and the setting.

Russell Howard's Good News (2009)

Russell Howard has a new comedy show on BBC 3, and I've been tuning in on iPlayer: it's a perfect candidate for timeshifting since it pops up on the homepage and is on at an unreasonable hour.

I especially like the title sequence and inserts, even though they're blatantly ripped off of Juno:



It sets the tone for the programme and feels different from most other BBC comedies. I just love the way it plays with scale and dimensions!

The show itself is still finding its feet - whoever thought up the "Mystery Guest" feature needs to just let go and drop it - but Howard is popular for reason, and his jokes can carry the half hour. While I didn't laugh out loud that often, I did grin the whole way through.

my tv for the last two days...

...reveals that I'm a giant nerd. What a surprise!

Thursday night:

7.30pm - 10pm I watched E4 on my television (which I do have a license for!)

I tuned in specifically for How I Met Your Mother, a sitcom which features the masterstroke of being just enough like Friends to be familiar, but just different enough to be fresh. That, and I adore Neil Patrick Harris in it.

After that, the real Friends came on, so I watched with half a brain - the other half focussed on my laptop. Look at me multitask! I'm so familiar with Friends, though, that I still know where to laugh at the jokes when it's been dubbed in Catalan so it's not really that impressive.

Then it was the new episodes of Scrubs, so I stuck around to watch them because I'm fond of the show, it's funny and since they were new episodes, I knew I wouldn't have seen them before. It wasn't brilliant - I do think it's running out of steam now that it's on series umpty-thrumpty. They're making Dr Kelso a good guy for goodness sake!

10pm - 12am-ish I took control of my viewing and broke out the boxset! I actually watch on my laptop because of several reasons:

*my DVD player attached to my TV is only actually semi-attached and you get the most awful fuzzy colour effect which just ruins it
*with the wonder of Mac's DVD Player app, you only have to watch the warnings at the beginning once  since it remembers where you last were

I watched three episodes of the boxset I got from the Academy library: Battlestar Galactica. From the amount I mention this in class, it's pretty obvious I'm a fan, but it really is one of the best shows on television (yes, it still counts as "on" because while the seasons are done, Edward James Olmos is determined to fill in every gap with "specials" [that is, when he isn't advising the UN {and no, I'm not joking}]  like Razor and The Plan) so I make no apologies. Three episodes in a row though... it's not exactly the sunniest programme in the world and a marathon makes for tough viewing.

Friday morning:

8am, I woke up to "time thieve" the latest episode of Supernatural which aired in America last night. Yup, I actually got up early in order to see it as soon as possible. It's a show I follow closely, and another which I'm a fan of, so it does matter that I see it soon - I couldn't wait the months it would take to come out on British TV. This is a case where I wish Hulu was accessible in Britain.

In the evening, I watched How I Met Your Mother at 7.30pm on E4, for the same reasons as above. I watch it whenever I'm in at that time, but it still isn't "appointment viewing" - if it was a choice between going out to the cinema, or just round to a friend's, I wouldn't mind missing the new episode.

After a gap of chatting on the phone and making some dinner (and by "make" I mean "heat up" [and by "heat up" I mean "eat cold"]), I watched Have I Got News For You at 9pm on BBC1. I like those kinds of topical news quizzes, and I especially like the blend of Ian Hislop and Paul Merton's humour. This is another show which, on the kind of night where absolutely nothing is happening, a re-run on Dave or the like is good entertainment.

Once that was over, it was back to BSG. This time, I watched four episodes (they're gripping!) and just stopped because it was midnight and I have a bus to catch tomorrow. Though, I have kinda negated that decision by blogging, but I'm away for the weekend and would rather get this complete.

Total hours: 7 hours, 30 minutes.

Not to sound like I'm making excuses, but this result is slightly skewed by the fact I'm gorging on a boxset at the moment. Usually, I watch a lot less unless something specific I like is on.

more navel gazing

I'm not quite sure how to reflect on my personal development but I feel like I've hit upon a bit of a writing streak so let's give it a go.

I enjoy my writing classes a lot. They're zappy and creative and I'm constantly amazed by some of the things which people come up with while we're describing scenarios. In last week's lesson, I found the free writing exercise quite difficult, and I'm not sure if it really suits me - it's a good warm-up, but as for uncovering my subconscious... there's a lot of silt over my subconscious and I don't think looking at a hanger will clear it off. Actually, my associative little brain just went into overdrive about "hanging" which led to a very despondent few pages. The group therapy bit was... well, we'll all know each other quite well by the time we graduate. Ok, I say group therapy - we had to talk about a time we were betrayed or when we betrayed someone else, and for everyone it was very personal. I'm not looking forward to when this gets even heavier, but then soul baring is this class's business and I'll never write a goods script if I'm too scared of people seeing me in them.

To skip to the other end of the week for no reason, I also really love the screenings. What a way to spend a Friday! The current run of classic American films in the morning is great, since I love most of them. That does make it harder to blog about - I'd rather talk about a flawed gem or a complete trainwreck, but it's more fun to watch something brilliant. Also, it sets the bar somewhat.

Skipping back to Content Origination, it can be quite bleak. It's good that we're learning the cold and brutal truth about the industry we may well work in, since I doubt we'd make it if we don't know what's going on, and it gives TV a new layer of significance watching it. The style of class is nice, feeling a lot like a conversation at times. I'm not sure how I hold up when it comes to looking at statistics - maths is not my strength, and while I can usually understand a figure given to me sometimes it can feel like I'm drowning in a sea of viewing figures (and wow doesn't that sound like a good idea for a horror film! Anyone? Bueller?). The same goes for the figures we get in all our classes, really - a powerpoint full of numbers makes my head swim.

In the technical classes, I still feel a bit of a dunce, but I'm reasonable enough to see that I'm learning and that soon(ish) I'll be able to put up a tripod quickly and efficiently, I just have to slog through the learning process. So far, editing is A-OK, since we've mainly been covering how to use a Mac OS (which I do every day) and the basics of Final Cut (which I do know). Still, I'm not sure if I'll really be able to memorise the log-in to Edit Share. There it is, numbers again...

In a more general sense, I really feel like I'm settling into life in the academy. Ok, I still get lost from time to time (and I swear they've moved our pigeon holes! I can't find them, let alone the pigeons) but I can usually find our regular rooms and I know where to go to get a blackpudding roll or a squirt of antibac alcohol. It still feels a little bit like a really great summer camp which will have to end eventually, but I keep telling myself I'm here to stay and hopefully I'll listen.

The Shawshank Redemption (1994)

When you become known as the local film nut, the one who is obsessed with all things movie, you tend you get given stuff. I was always being given torn out newspaper articles about film projects or statistics, and among these were plenty of "100 Films To See BEFORE YOU DIE", which is a grisly idea if you think about it. One of the films always on these lists is The Shawshank Redemption, and I'd never seen it before now despite the fact I've been meaning to for a long time. I think it was probably part of project "Don't Let Baby See Scary Films", which is fair enough since I've always wanted to see films far and above the BBFC limitations. My Six year old self has never quite gotten over not seeing Romeo + Juliet upon its first release.  Now that I have, the lists say I'm ready to die, so I'm not sure what I'm living for. I guess I'll just have to make it up as I go along.

It deserves its reputation as a classic; it's very difficult to think of anything wrong with this film: it has flawless acting, cinematography, plotting, characterisation, direction and editing. It has deep moral themes without being preachy and it illuminates an aspect of history in a way which reflects upon modern day society. The only wriggle-room I could see for improvement is if the characters were see to age a little better, but it's a very small thing. Where does that leave the critic? Sitting on her sofa stuck for something to say, is where. (Sidenote: lots of sibbilants there!)

My favourite thing about the script was its careful laying down of looping structures. I love these. My favourite is actually purely visual: in Trois Coleurs: Rouge the protagonist is a model, and her image is up on billboards throughout the film advertising chewing gum. In a completely haunting bit of looping, the final shot is a perfect mirror of that image, although in very different circumstances. It does sound like much if you haven't seen it, but I get chills just thinking about it. I've got them now writing about it!

In Shawshank, it's things like the room where both Brooks and Red stay - it feels more like a unified whole. And then there's the signposting which makes the twist (or more like reveal I suppose, since it's never revealed that Andy is dead...) both surprising, but also make sense. There's nothing worse than a twist you can't understand, because rather than making the film look clever it just makes you feel stupid. I know this because I've written those scripts, and they've been rubbish. A good twist is clever, but of the "why didn't I think of that before!" kind. It's a tricky balance between obvious and incomprehensible.

I do expect that I'll watch this again, probably many times. The mise-en-scene create the kind of atmosphere which very special films do (I'd count The Godfather and Bladerunner too) which draws you in and immerses you in that world for 90 or 200 minutes. It's not necessarily a pleasant world, in fact, its brutality feels more realistic - real enough to get lost in. It's engrossing, and it only comes from a brilliant script well executed - that elusive combination! I was engrossed by The Shawshank Redemption, so that I didn't really want it to end despite the perfect note of the end.

On that subject, I think the addition to the ending was a good decision. It needed that confirmation - I couldn't bear the thought of Red possibly being apprehended on the border, or of him arriving to find that Andy wasn't there. Not patronizing the audience is all well and good, but I do actually like to know what the writer thinks happened - especially when it's a writer who has guided me through a film so well.

The Godfather (1972)

Luca Brasi held a gun to his head, and my father assured him that either his brains or his signature would be on the contract. 

I think I've fallen in love a little bit.

Before Friday, I'd never sat down to watch The Godfather, although I was aware of it through pop culture, and I'd seen parts of Godfather II, and I was scared that it would be one of those films which have been parodied to the point where the original is overworn. Thankfully, I don't think any amount of copying or referencing could diminish this film - it is, as far as I can see, faultless. I even like the font.

I think that one of the most important aspects of any film is the sound mix. It's often overlooked, probably because if it's working then you don't really notice it, but throughout Godfather I couldn't help but appreciate the depth and ambience of the audio. The score was perfect - sinister, memorable and inkeeping with the setting. The recurring waltz was one of those things I already knew - you play that to anyone and if they can't think of the film, they'll probably say it has something to do with gangsters. I also loved the attention to detail, from the gun sounds to the crunching of bones and the contrast between New York's background noise and Sicily's tranquility.

Looking back, it's an astonishing cast, and with an ensemble of such horrific characters it's essential. I doubt I would find Michael Corleone a compelling, let alone likable, character if Al Pacino didn't have such a magnetic screen presence. A lesser actor would have alienated the audience and couldn't have competed with Marlon Brando, who is a formidable personality to act against. Pacino shows his character's progression with the tiniest of cues, until he becomes Don Corleone from being the respectable son. I don't know why I find Michael such a likable character - surely that's not right? But he remains something of an outsider, more shaken by committing murder than any of the other characters, and he suffers emotionally. Plus, I've always liked a clever character and his masterful takeover of all the other crime bosses is pretty impressive, partly because of the brilliant crosscutting between Michael's nephew's baptism and Michael's own baptism in blood.

Visually, it's... well, it's amazing. I don't really have the words to talk about it yet, but every frame was composed and coloured and perfect. The design was brilliant - it felt like the 50s New York, and ranged from the poverty stricken to the ordinary to the lavish. Even the suits were character cues - who has the nicest cut? They're probably the one in charge.

When we talked about the themes, we came up with family, loyalty, deceit etc etc. I think this is really why it works - I don't think (I hope not) that anyone in our class can directly relate to a story about organised criminality, but who can't relate to a story about parent/child relationships or sibling rivalry? Sonny is an especially tragic character to me because it's clear once you know his impetuous character and his deep loyalty to his family that it will be his end one day. Michael, by contrast, is far more contained and while he feels the same loyalty, he is better able to act upon it thoughtfully.

Soon, I really want to watch this again, and the sequels too  - you know who you are, the person who got them out of the library - all I can think is why I didn't see it sooner!

Just a quick thought

Last night's episode of Ugly Betty says something very interesting about America's attitudes. The A plot featured the editors Mode, a recently bankrupt fashion magazine, appealing to the government for a bailout and being ultimately refused because they are seen to be eating out at a lavish restaurant. They then make the decision to liquidate their personal assets to save the company.

What does this say about the America now? I think it would be fair to say that on the whole they look at government in a different way to Brits, and the recent bail-outs are testing their tolerance of government intervention. If the writers of Ugly Betty are trying to reflect the zeitgeist, then this seems to be a cry of frustration against what people see as the rich being made richer at the expense of the ordinary man.

Well done on it for staying relevant - it began during the good spell, when a story about a fashion magazine was enough in and of itself, but it looks like it's adapting to the new circumstances.

This week I have mostly been reading...

...The Private Eye

To preempt anyone from getting the impression that I really do read nothing but comics I'll tell you about the fortnightly rag which I've subscribed to for about five years now.

The Private Eye is a satirical and current affairs "magazine" (magazine to me means glossy paper as standard, and the Eye is printed on stock one level up from newsprint so I don't class it as a magazine really) started in 1961. The current editor is Ian Hislop (one of the regulars on Have I Got News For You) and it has a reputation for mixing bold investigative journalist with immature humour. It's also always in the courts being sued over some story or another.

I began reading it during my debating phase in S2. Its style of humour appealed to me, since I was just getting into satire thanks to the gift of Dead Ringers cassettes. It took me a while to pick up the running jokes; for instance, fake articles are generally said to be "continued on page 94" (which doesn't exist, it's just an easy way of killing it once the satirical point has been made), and when I first read that I did look for page 94 only to be very confused. Also, every recurring company or person earns themself a nickname, most of them unpublishable in any other serious paper.

I learnt a lot of what I know about politics from the Eye, since what it excels at is drawing connections between events: an MP who behaves in a certain way may be anticipating a job on a related company's board, or their spouse might have a vested interest. The overall pattern which builds up is a mixture of sinister, self-serving inside dealing and pathetic incompetence.

My favourite parts are when there is an extended investigation into a specific topic, usually once a year or so. Once it was the £12bn NHS IT fiasco, another it was a thorough review of the Deep Cut case and the cover-up afterwards. There was also a brilliant article examining the Lockerbie Bomber story, printing information which I've never seen or heard from a mainstream news source, but which paints a radically different picture of the case. It's available to download here and is well worth a look (£5, or free for subscribers).

Next week: ...probably comics :P

Dr Horrible's Sing-Along Blog (2008)

In our Introduction to Cinema class yesterday, we touched on the relationship between TV and internet, and it made me think about this, to me the most successful fusion of the two. And it's not surprising that it works, it's made by Joss Whedon.

It's a three act story, released over several days online. It's available to buy on iTunes, and it even got a DVD release. Without Joss's name and loyal-bordering-on-obsessive fanbase, a 45 minute internet series would never gave gained as much attention as it did, and it also wouldn't have attracted stars like Neil Patrick Harris, Nathan Fillion and Felicia Day.

I'm almost incapable to describing everything that's brilliant about this because I love it so much, but I'll try.

First off, the songs. In my last post I said how much I hated musicals, well this is an exception. The songs are witty and honest, with clever rhymes and beautiful harmonies. "I cannot believe my eyes" is a brilliant song, which forwards the plot and explores character motivation; "Laundry" is one of the most truthful descriptions of falling in love I've heard; "Bad horse" will stick in your head like Sticky the sticky stick-insect; "I won't feel" is perfectly tragic. It helps that the cast are all excellent singers.

The characters are instantly lovable - so important given that we only have 45 minutes to get to know them. Billy, aka "Dr Horrible", is lovably inept, and it's refreshing to have the Baddie be the hero for a change. Penny, his unattainable object of affection, is sweet and good-natured yet hopelessly unaware of others' true characters. Captain Hammer is hilariously macho, and a better representation of what a superpowered dude would be like than an angsty Clark Kent - he's basically just a big bully.

As always, Joss's trick is to make the audience empathise and care about these characters so that every event in the brief plot is an emotional hit.

The afterlife for this series is unique, in that it has gained in popularity thanks to word-of-mouth (or, more likely, messageboard) and has spawned more creative spinoffs.

The DVD has the best commentary of any tv show or film ever in the history of DVDs. I won't be moved on this. The commentary is sung. They wrote and recorded songs, making the actors and writers into characters as much as Billy and Penny. Some of those are even better than the musical's songs, my favourite being "Pick it apart", Joss's lament about being constantly questioned about his work. I've probably listened to the commentary more than the series itself, to be honest.



Dr Horrible also made a Horrible appearance in the Emmy awards, (where it was criminally passed over I might add):




So, go out and watch it, it'll only take 45 minutes and you'll be a convert by the time Moist appears. I promise.

Act 1 / Act 2 / Act 3

The Wizard of Oz (1939)

I'm not a huge fan of musicals. With a few exceptions, I'd rather watch a film in which the plot is forwarded through action and where emotion is expressed by acting; the few musicals I love I tend to skip the singing bits, with Singing in the Rain and Enchanted pretty much the only ones I watch uninterrupted. It's probably no coincidence that both have a slightly post-modern approach to the musical.

The Wizard of Oz is not one of those exceptions. Every time they burst into song I mentally go into sleep-mode, just waiting for the action to start up again.

But that's just a personal prejudice, most people love musicals. They're opera for the modern age. I do like this film, even if mostly it's because of nostalgia rather than merit. It's a film I've watched with family at Christmas, and which has been parodied and referenced until it's simply a part of our cultural consciousness.

Watching it again, and in a formal setting, I was able to take a more objective view. And objectively? It's patchy.

On the bad side is the acting. It's overdone and stagey in the worst pattern of films of this era. There's also the horribly tedious pacing, which means we have to sit through endless sequences with the oompa-loompas or whatever it is they are, or the Lion's interminable song.

I do like the effects, I've had a great affection for miniature effects since my immersion in Classic Doctor Who (which you might have thought would have cured my impatience with pacing, what with 4 hour storylines) and the design overall is very imaginative. This would have been better if it hadn't been for the faulty projector, which washed out all the reds - important in a film where a plot point is a red pair of shoes.

My feelings about the ending are mixed, and I think it's very open to interpretation. My view is that it's a stinging critique of American society, but it's either incredibly subtle or just my own imagination, because most people see it as just a happy ending.To me, the fact that instead of courage the Tin Man is given a medal is meant to be an attack on the kinds of soldiers who never went to war but were decorated handsomely - something which would be alive in the memories of ordinary people only twenty years after the Great War. The Wizard, to me, is one of the most sinister characters - a deceiver as much as his real-world counterpart and far less likable than the amiably OTT Wicked Witch.

Wizard of Oz is undoubtedly a film you should watch, but I have grave doubts about its ideas and execution. Maybe next time I'll cue up Dark Side of the Moon and see if that agrees with me any more.

The Soloist (2009)

I got a very strong sense that I was being shown Joe Wright's shock at moving to LA watching this film. The deprivation of the city is not something I know very much about, since all I've seen has been part of the Hollywood machine - glossy, rich young people and their glossy, expensive cars. It was shocking to me to see the level of poverty some people live in and the way the homeless are treated by the authorities. America is so often presented as a utopia of liberty and opportunity, but we see a homeless man being arrested for illegal possession of a shopping cart.

The film as a whole develops a greater feeling of truthfulness from the casting of genuinely homeless people and the use of locations - it was filmed in an area with the highest concentration of homelessness in America.

The Soloist was also very brave in its depiction of mental illness. Nathaniel is shown to be incredibly talented, but we are not given an idealistic view - his schizophrenia is a barrier, preventing him from realising his full potential and sometimes making him dangerous. The scene where he turns on his friend and nearly kills him is terrifying and all too realistic.

One of the most interesting aspects for me was the glimpse it gave of synesthesia - a mental quirk which basically mixes your senses up. Nathaniel, in common with many musicians, experienced music as colour and we were shown this as a coloured lightshow as Beethoven was played. It was very well designed, somehow feeling fitting to the music, even if it hurt my eyes a little.

Jamie Foxx was fantastic, inhabiting his character brilliantly. It was a demanding role: he had to imitate a mental illness and look at home playing a violin and a cello, and he pulled it off. Robert Downey Jnr gave a very Robert Downey Jnr performance - it was no great transformative leap, but he has a compelling screen presence and can get away with that.

The timing of the release is interesting, since we're nowhere near awards season yet and this is a very strong contender for awards - it's a serious drama with talented, previously-nominated actors. I could easily see this being nominated for cast, director and cinematography and yet, I wonder if its chances will be affected by a long wait inbetween release and nominations. Possibly this was an economically motivated move - right now it has minimal competition, being put up against comedies, kids' films and horror flicks. I hope that pays off, since its an excellently well-made film with a worthy plot, and the idealist in me loves to see people making good films doing well.

creative beginnings

I'll admit that I went into Creative Beginnings with a fair amount of skepticism. It seemed to me like just another barrier to getting on with the course, which I've been looking forward to since I heard it existed 18 months ago (it's been a loooooong wait). I'm glad to say, however, that I was proved wrong.

Sure, some parts of it grated on me. I found it frustrating that in such a large group it was difficult to really engage with everyone on a personal level - I would have loved to have questioned some people more thoroughly - and with 25 people all voicing their opinions (or, in reality, more like 10) arguments tended to go round in circles. I would also question whether the central question matters - should we be thinking about who culture 'belongs' to or going out there and making it? That's just a reflection of my own opinion on the question, though, and I'm aware of its usefulness in making us question our ideas.

The first task was a bit of a poser. I toyed with how deep or how literal to make it, and ended up panicking one night before I moved and going and taking a pretty rubbish version:

After I'd moved, and once I'd calmed down, I decided to take a good picture this time, and enlisted the help of my comrade in arms Maisie Cottingham (BA TPA1 for those who don't know):

It's very important for me that she was in it, since I wouldn't actually be here, at the RSAMD, without her. It's thanks to her that I came to an open day and fell in love with this crazy place and found this course, which seemed to fulfil every criterion I could have hoped for. I also surrounded myself with all the things which have gone into forming my creative consciousness: my novels, my magazines, my comics, my plays (a lot of plays), my films, my tv series. Also, I wanted something to represent me, so I threw in my camera (you can just see it in the background), my dear Macbook, my new shoes and my badass bikerboots. And, as the final layer of pretentiousness, I sat there reading Voltaire.

In the session, it was fascinating to see how others had interpreted the task. Some had taken it completely literally, and it was great to see the wide variety of beautiful places people have come from - I do think the diversity of the RSAMD's students is one of its strengths, and I'm glad to be a part of that. (Oh God, I'm starting to sound like an Equality and Diversity lecture!) I also loved the more metaphorical interpretations.

From the first day, what I really took was that everyone had a very different idea of what they were getting into. We couldn't agree - not in a confrontational way, we just couldn't reach a consensus. And that didn't change, and I'm not sure I'd want it to. It's good that everyone thinks something different! My personal take on "culture" was a very thorough, though probably not quite thorough enough, definition:

Culture is an accumulation of creative ideas, incorporating ritual and ceremony and the social, political and personal landscape. It is a constantly evolving influencing force.

And as for who it belongs to, I would say: no one. I don't believe culture can be owned, only added to. I liked another group's use of a metaphor:


Culture is like soup: you've got your dance, your drama, your art, your music, your everything basically, thrown in there, and we should be like delicious croutons floating on top. You don't want to sink to the bottom, just float on the top deliciously. And everyone can have a bowl, and they can all have whatever they want from this soup. And the RSAMD in this metaphor is either the soup pot or the chef ... it's hard to say ...


An interesting look at it, plus, who can resist a soup metaphor?

We also looked at Scottish culture in the specific, which is an interesting area for me.

Though I've lived here for a long time - longer than anywhere else - I am by no means Scottish. I'm an outsider, and one who has had the opportunity to observe scottish culture in great depth. I think it has a wonderful tradition of education, one which people who have lived here all their lived probably don't appreciate. The schools here are better than anywhere else in the country, some of the best in the world, and you only have to look at the way further education is funded to see that. I also love the culture of creativity - there is a greater willingness to express oneself in Scotland than the rest of the uk, especially England. People are more gregarious, and friendlier. I've not encountered a Big Issue seller who proposes marriage to the pretty girls who walk past anywhere except Glasgow. There's also the more negative side - the fighting culture, the drinking culture, the unhealthy food. None of these are universal, and yet they create an overall pattern to me of what living in Scotland is. And that is why I love it here, and am happy to stay here for the rest of my education.

On the second day, I got to indulge my love of drama games! Say what you like, they're fun and they wake you up.

It also gave me more of an opportunity to meet and work with people from other disciplines; one of the most attractive elements of the Academy for me is that you work so closely with actors/technicians/dancers on a daily basis, and it was a great chance to actually get to know them a little. I tried to give a good first impression - not hard when the method of introduction is giving them a hug - and find out a little bit about them. What emerged from this day was that we freshers have a lot in common. We expect similar things from our 1/3/4 years here - hard work, collaboration, support - with just a little variation for course-specific things. I was glad that in these exercises people seemed to be being open and honest - I certainly tried to open up and participate.

We had to bring in a statement, saying what we would bring to the course, and an object to represent ourselves. My statement, in rather pretentious language, I'm sorry, ran thusly:

I bring all that I have, which is all that I am.

What can I say, I love verbal symmetry. I was raised with Shakespeare from an early age.


My object was a pen. Yeah, looks like I grabbed the first thing my hand fell on in the morning, doesn't it? Well, I didn't really have the range of choice I would have had at home (my real home that is, although Glasgow is coming to mean home more and more) but I chose it for several reasons. I always need a pen, for writing down ideas and impressions, or sketching in my patented "can't actually draw" style. Also, and here comes the metaphysical bit, I want to make my mark on the RSAMD. See what I did there? Do you?

In the afternoon, we split into groups and were sent into the city like the Israelites into the desert (wow, I've been writing for a long time now, you can tell because I just made a Biblical allusion) to wander until we found a place which represented the culture we were going into. My group consisted of two MA students (Classical and Contemporary Text and Musical Theatre) and a TPA student, stage management and production strand. We debated several places, trying to think beyond the obvious and, basically, out-do the others. Competitiveness is the fuel for creativity! Eventually, we reached Central Station (which a stubborn part of me always calls "Grand Central Station" for some unfathomable reason) and found our way to the "Harry Potter Platform" - Platform 12, nee 11a, right at the end where all the train-spotters lurk. We edged past them and took our photos just past the DO NOT CROSS THIS POINT point, with a backdrop of signs and signals. We chose it because it shows the industrial, practical heart of Glasgow rather than the shortbread tin version, and the metaphors for the choice we have to take and the paths we'll travel fall into your lap.

I would have preferred to have used a better camera than the one in one of my colleague's phone, and to have developed it onto proper paper, but we weren't given any warning so there's not much we could have done. Unless this is their way of saying to always have a camera with me...

Other's choices were intriguing - I liked the humourous use of traffic cones, and the derring-do of all those who tried to find a theatre which would let them in. I loved the pictures taken from some of Glasgow's vantage points - it really does have a beautiful skyline.

Today, the final day, we convened in the Chandler Studio Theatre under some atmospheric lights and I got to indulge my love of drama games again. Once we were warmed up, the srs bsns began.

Our installation was to pin up on one side of the room the picture representing where we came from, and what developed from that was a picture of just how diverse our backgrounds were, from rural areas to foreign cities. Some people emphasised that they come from travel, which  I could sympathise with.

We then wrote four things on the floor in chalk:

What we bring to the academy
An anxiety we have
A hope we have, and
A question we had.

Mine were:

I bring everything!
I fear failure
I hope that ^ won't stop me from trying
When do we start?

As time went by, it became scuffed and blurred, but it was beautiful to me to see what people had written. Some had gone for humour, (one question was "where is Hugh Hogart's office?" and one fear was "swine flu"), some for impact (you all saw the foot-tall lettered one) and some seemed perfectly confident ("fearless"). What warmed me were all those who expressed the doubt they still felt about themselves; "they'll find out that I'm actually shit", "what will happen if I fail?", "am I good enough?", and all of those who wrote "failure" as their fear. I can sympathise with that lingering doubt that they aren't up to it, for all that I know it's an insecurity based on fear rather than a recognition of fact.

The most upsetting was "I am where I wanted to be. Or so I thought." I hope that they feel differently once work begins in earnest.

Finally, we wrote a letter to ourselves on graduation. I wrote some personal things, about where I am where I hope to be. Who I hope to be. I also betrayed my bossiness and gave myself some orders, particularly about who I should go and hug. Oh, and I drew a picture. Why not? This exercise was incredibly moving to me, since I can see myself opening this letter and thinking back to this time when I was just starting out. It feels like insurance for the future, and I can start by taking my own advise now. I wish we'd done this kind of thing in highschool, it would have been lovely and it would have made our eventual departures that bit more meaningful.

I hope we'll get to see the picture of us all on the steps, scaring the gentle folk of Glasgow with our rowdy drama-school-ness. It would show such hope, and commemorate what, for me, has been an eye-opening few days. I learnt a lot about the other people I will work with, about myself and it made me think about what I actually want to achieve. By setting it down, I feel like I'm more likely to act upon it. The same goes for my anxieties - looking at them, and looking at other people who feel the same way, makes me feel better about them. I know that they're there, but I know not to worry.

I'm very excited for what comes next! I feel prepared, and as keen to get going as a horse that's been questioned about culture for three days when all it wants is to go and gallop.

So well done if you've read through all that, I can talk about myself at great length, although I'll stop now since my stomach is making awful noises at me and is threatening to revolt.