Diary: Myths, Titans and Twists

There was a certain point in my boyhood (probably around the age of nine or 10) when Usborne's Greek Myths and Legends was my favourite book. I expect this literary devotion lasted for about four days, but I doubt I'm alone. Thousands of schoolchildren must have been introduced to the deities of the ancient world through various editions of this title. As an introduction to classics, it was perfectly judged - full of vibrant pictures, maps and informative text.

Among the many myths included was that of Perseus, a rollicking good yarn about a brave young warrior and a woman with snakes for hair who had a stare to rival that of Pierluigi Collina. It was loosely brought to the big screen in a much-cherished 1981 film which mixed in the acting talents of Laurence Olivier and Maggie Smith with the animation of Ray Harryhausen. I also recall a small-screen version of the tale: it was made in 1989 as part of the Jim Henson's The Storyteller series, with Michael Gambon as narrator and a fairly realistic Muppet dog to keep the kiddies interested.

All this nostalgia is relevant because, as I'm sure you know by now, Perseus has been repackaged for a whole new audience in Clash of the Titans, Warner Bros' big Easter money-maker. Choosing to watch the movie in 2D rather than 3D was a no-brainer after reading several reports of pointless shonky post-production work that wasn't worth the extra spend at the box office.

The happiest customer would have been my 10-year-old self, although I hope even he might have groaned at some of the lamentable dialogue that peppers this throwaway but otherwise enjoyable swords-and-sandals CGI-laden romp. It owes much to The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring in terms of style and construction, with powerful gods in place of warring wizards, but lacks any of that film's character development or levity in the script.

Zeus (Liam Neeson) and Hades (Ralph Fiennes) bawl and hiss respectively at one another, while the rest of Olympus watches on bored, particularly trident-wielding Poseidon (Danny Houston). Perseus (Sam Worthington) is a cardboard cut-out hero who's hard to root for, particularly when he comes out with lines like "don't look that bitch in the eye" before dropping in for a date with Medusa. Meanwhile, back in Argos, where a catalogue of insults has seriously narked Zeus, there resides a wittering zealot called Prokopion (Luke Treadaway), possibly the most irritating character seen on screen so far this year.

The gods and humans largely disappoint, although the supporting critters are more fun. The angry accursed Acrisius (Jason Flemyng), who has been left with a head that resembles a pitta stuffed with kebab meat; the Stygian Witches, like fussy great-aunts of the Pale Man from Pan's Labyrinth; the Djinn, desert spirits patched up with tree-bark who owe much to Star Wars' Tusken Raiders. And the monster you've all been waiting for - the Kraken, a gargantuan sea monster with a sweet tooth for sacrificial virgins.

Quite why certain citizens of Argos decided to go for a stroll along the sea front on the day the Kraken was coming to town beats me but then again, it's of little importance - much like this whole movie. But that's not to say it won't appeal to any nostalgic memories of bedtime reading you may have, despite the strangely mangled script.

Last Monday, I caught Martin Scorsese's Shutter Island. As I Tweeted at the time: "Shutter Island gripped me like a straitjacket. Taut, unsettling and full of the inventive scene construction that Scorsese always delivers." There's been much talk about the twist (it's more than predictable) but there's a thought-provoking last line that lifts the ending above similar thriller fare. Recommended.

Diary: Restorations and Accusations

I've read several articles online recently referring to a backlash against bloggers by professional critics and those who work in various arts industries. In last Sunday's Observer, Vanessa Thorpe wrote that what some see as "democratic cultural debate... others condemn as the death of informed analysis".

As someone who's just started a blog, I find this attitude towards the likes of me rather pompous and patronising. According to Variety's theatre critic David Benedict:

Bloggers are dealing in unfettered opinions. True criticism is analysis, and it gives you an understanding of the form. Ideally, a critic doesn't just tell you something didn't work; they tell you why.

For someone whose life is largely spent celebrating creativity and originality, Benedict's sweeping statement is surprising. The vast majority of blogs that I have read on film, music etc are certainly not an outpouring of skewed points of view. On the contrary, many writers use the blog format to carefully analyse their topic, comparing and contrasting with other cultural references and presenting a considered view. They also openly interact with their readers, which  results in a broader spectrum of opinions being expressed - and, where necessary, challenged. Thorpe's article refers to two distinct camps - on the one hand, you have the "cultural aristocracy... the learned troupe (of) professional reviewers...", and on the other are "bloggers (who lack) cultural memory". In my experience, these extremes are rare and most bloggers occupy a middle ground where they are indeed attempting to offer an explanation of what works and what doesn't work, based on knowledge of and enthusiasm for their chosen topic. For most, blogging is an unpaid hobby and to sneer at them en masse, just because they are "amateurs", appears snobbish. 

The thrust of Thorpe's focus is towards the theatre community (and specifically those who blog about musicals) but the article also includes review excerpts from other arts bloggers which are compared to more highbrow comments from national newspapers. Are these critics feeling threatened? If so, it's a childish reaction. They should be encouraged that Joe Public wants to join in the cultural debate; by reading a wide range of views, we can all become more informed.

I'm always interested in what other film critics and bloggers are saying about movies, especially those I've just seen. After writing a review myself, I'll aim to read around and compare notes. I'm no great fan of the News of the World, but I always read Robbie Collin's reviews as he frequently makes me laugh. He voices strong, forthright opinions in an amusing way and while he's unlikely to ever be seen as another Roger Ebert, he provides perfect tabloid fare. Check out his review of The Blind Side, which I saw last Sunday. He certainly hits the mark when he refers to the Memphis housing projects shown in the film looking like "the World's Cleanest Crack Den". Empire magazine was similarly on the nose when their reviewer Ian Freer described the scenes as feeling "like a Disneyland version of The Wire"

On Monday, I went to see The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo at Hyde Park Picture House. Having read the book by Steig Larsson a couple of months ago, the story was still fresh in my mind and I was relishing the movie. Overall I was impressed with the adaptation although at two-and-a-half hours long, the lack of editing was a problem. Several scenes could have been left on the cutting room floor without damaging the narrative, particularly when the protagonists Lisbeth Salander and Mikael Blomkvist are driving around snowy Swedish backwaters. The Scandinavian scenery was certainly attractive but moving along the complicated plot was a more pressing issue. The novel's controversial rape scene was hard to watch but successfully established Lisbeth's complex character, and it was refreshing to see such an unlikely heroine on the big screen.
Unsurprisingly, a US remake is in the offing with Britain's very own Carey Mulligan up for the Salander role and David Fincher pencilled in to direct. It'll all be relocated to the States of course, but whereas most remakes seem a fairly pointless exercise, having a genius like Fincher at the helm bodes well in this instance. His trademark flourishes and past successes in the thriller genre should ensure he brings something new to proceedings.



My nearest cinema is Cottage Road, which lies two streets away from where I live. The building dates from 1835 but it's been showing films since 1912. It's convenient and rewarding to be so close to two historic picture houses but I'm often slightly disappointed by the programme at Cottage Road when compared to Hyde Park. There's rarely anything shown that doesn't fit into the "family friendly" category.
However, you won't find me criticising their monthly Classics at the Cottage nights. The latest was on Wednesday and the film showing was a new print of The Red Shoes, a British classic from 1948 much loved in particular by Martin Scorsese who helped fund its restoration.
Before the movie began, a healthy turn-out was treated to a selection of vintage cinema ads from the 1970s and 80s for products such as Lyons Maid ice cream, Benson and Hedges cigarettes and Brooke Bond D tea. There was also a classic wartime Stanley Holloway short which urged the audience to contribute to National Savings - "lend to defend the right to be free".  Clearly a lot of thought and hard work had gone into acquiring and preparing this nostalgia.
The film itself may have needed touching up but its power has not faded over time. It's a compelling tale of creative and romantic passions in a ballet company, all filmed in glorious Technicolor.



On Thursday, it was time for another new release - Green Zone. With Paul Greengrass and Matt Damon working together again so soon after the excellent Bourne Supremacy and Bourne Ultimatum, what could go wrong? Action-wise, very little. There's excitement and explosions, all filmed in Greengrass' familiar shaky style. The myth of Iraq's WMD threat forms the basis of the plot, which surmises what might have happened if Damon's Special Forces warrant officer (based on a real-life US soldier) had pushed hard for answers when failing to find Saddam's supposed stash of nuclear goodies. Personally, I'd have liked to have seen the role of the media, represented by Amy Ryan's journalist, rounded out more fully. Her character Lawrie Dayne is shown trotting out the government line on the intelligence. Reporters may have ultimately failed to hold those in power to account but there were reasons for this - a fear of appearing anti-American, competitive newspaper editors looking to trump their rivals and 'creative' journalism and headline-writing designed to chime with a nation stirred up for revenge by their political leaders. Greengrass fails to address these pressures, under which men and women like Dayne were working at the time, and consequently the thriller relies too heavily on hindsight for its comment on the media's ineffective check on government.




Let The Right One In finally found its way into my DVD player on Saturday night. As I tweeted after viewing: "Deeply affecting. Love and horror beautifully interwoven. Who needs Twilight?"
Next up for me at the cinema is Kick-Ass on Tuesday, which I'll aim to review before its general release next weekend.

Diary: Locker, Stock and a Barrel of Laughs

A cracking La Liga clash between Real Madrid and Sevilla was my send-off at TEAMtalk Towers for a week's holiday. I've got loads of time to take between now and the end of June so with no major plans other than a couple of nights in London in midweek, it was a good opportunity to down tools.

While hunting for some blogs to inspire me to start writing, I found this excellent Guardian website article by Andy Bull, which tells the story of how four guys with little to zero experience ended up winning Olympic gold in bobsled at the 1932 Winter Games in Lake Placid. It's a fine piece of sportswriting and everyone who I forwarded it on to agreed it would make for an exciting movie. Kind of like The Aviator mixed with Cool Runnings, if you know what I mean.

On Sunday night, I went to see A Single Man at the Hyde Park Picture House - a cinema here in Leeds that I'm bound to write more about in due course. It dates from 1914, the Edwardian era, and is a beautiful venue in which to watch movies. Mark Kermode can often be heard raving about it (he's at it again on his latest blog post, about 30 seconds in); indeed, I was fortunate enough to meet him there recently on his book-signing tour. I've been a member of the cinema's Friends group for a couple of years now and am hoping to get more involved with all the events etc they have going on. I never got around to writing a review of the film, which I enjoyed very much even if it was a bit of a triumph of style over substance. Colin Firth is compelling in the lead role and as a study in human loss early on in the film, it's hard to fault. After that, if you can get the past the fact that it's strange how Firth's George is suicidally lonely when everyone he meets is so friendly, there's plenty to enjoy - not least the fashions and the appeal of a Santa Monica summer. It was freezing in Leeds that day so the prospect of sunnier climes was as attractive as a slightly tipsy Julianne Moore (one of my very favourite actresses) dancing to Booker T & the MGs' Green Onions (as previously heard on screen in the superb Get Shorty). The melancholy score by Abel Korzeniowski is well worth a listen too.

On Monday morning, I watched the Oscars back having Sky+d them the night before. No real surprises other than perhaps The Hurt Locker taking Best Picture over Avatar. The actual announcement of the big award of the night was such an anti-climax, Tom Hanks striding on stage and declaring the winner in about 30 seconds flat. Kathryn Bigelow's film is tense and thrilling in all the right places but it was nowhere near the best of 2009 for me. My most-loved were A Serious Man and Moon, both of which I hope will find a bigger audience on DVD etc in the future than they did in cinemas last year.

I went to a play reading of Henrik Ibsen's Ghosts on Monday evening with an amateur dramatics group a mile from where I live called the Adel Players. It was my first meeting with them and I really enjoyed it. I'm thinking of getting back into drama so I shall probably go and watch them rehearse their current production of The Cherry Orchard at some point to find out a bit more about them.

On Tuesday, it was down to London where in the evening I watched a dreadful football match (QPR 2 Plymouth Argyle 0). It was great to catch up with friends however, and on Wednesday I saw the production of The Little Dog Laughed at the Garrick Theatre, just up from Trafalgar Square. This was a sharp satire on Hollywood attitudes to homosexuality and Tamsin Greig was the stand-out performer, cast as an acid-tongued agent.

Back to Leeds on Thursday, and an enjoyable Friends meeting with other Hyde Park Picture House members. So far this weekend I've watched The Hangover, Rocky Balboa and caught up with some more of Damages Season 1 - all DVDs that have been loitering in my 'to watch' pile for far too long. Finished reading Stieg Larsson's The Girl Who Played With Fire and started on Michael Bilton's Wicked Beyond Belief. Tomorrow morning I'm off to see Sandra Bullock in The Blind Side (preview screening at Showcase Cinema). Review coming later then!