Killing Them Softly

Set in 2008, the year of the US presidential elections, Killing Them Softly goes beneath the fantasy of the 'American Dream' and delves into the underbelly of organised crime and contractural killings, a world far removed from all the political spin and talk. Two petty criminals are given the job of hitting a card game, run by Ray Liotta, which they do and this sets in motion a chain of events that leads to inevitable outbursts of bloodshed. Ray Liotta is the prime suspect of robbing his own game and the circles of organised crime decide something must be done to restore credibility and fear on the streets. Brad Pitt stars as the hitman brought in to sort out this messy situation. The acting is consistently brilliant throughout, from Pitt's casual, almost easy going brutality to James Gandolfini's edgy portrayal of a washed up hitman. Richard Jenkins, Ray Liotta and Scoot McNairy add some weighty support. The direction and screenplay are sharp and intelligent, adding a chilling sense of realism to the lives of hitmen and the underworld. The political commentary interpersed throughout the film, via the medium of tv or radio, is very clever and used to great effect. There is a cynicism to many of the characters, most notably Pitt's, that grates visibly with the illusion of hope and prosperity built up by politicans such as Bush and Obama. There is good out there in the world for sure, of the kind Bush and Obama speak about, but they are not to take credit for it. They and others like them have let down generation after generation and the viewer can almost find himself or herself nodding in agreement to Pitt's character as he tears apart a Obama speech in the very last scene of the film. Brutal and brilliant. 8/10        

NEDS

 

The multi-talented Peter Mullan writes, directs and stars in this gritty, violent and powerful piece of film making. Mullan takes a Ken Loach approach, both in style and substance, but manages to stamp his own authority on the film. Set in early/mid 1970's urban Glasgow young John McGill has a promising academic career ahead of him despite having a drunk as a father and a NED (Non-Educated Delinquent) as an older brother. Somewhat predictably John gets sucked into the violent and profane culture of NEDS and the battle for his mind and soul ensues. The change in John from a decent young man with much potential and promise to a violent, foul-mouthed NED is performed very convincingly by Conor McCarron. Much of NEDS is based on Mullan's own upbringing in 1970's Glasgow and he manages to capture their talk and behaviour very well. The film drags on towards the end and loses a bit of direction. Will John make it or not? The ending is ambivalent, which in some films I like, but I would have prefered some closure on the fate of John. NEDS is a very well made and relevant film, but, unlike The Angel's Share, I had a heavy spirit after watching it. Maybe that is what Mullen wants the viewer to feel - the lack of hope that many NEDS must experience themselves. Perhaps sometimes it's better to stick your head in the sand and just watch Teenwolf instead. 7/10    

Brief Encounter

Brief Encounter is British director David Lean before he turned his masterful hands to epics like Doctor Zhivago and Lawrence Of Arabia. Brief Encounter might lack the scale and ambition of his later films but it's a beautifully directed piece of cinema. Based on the Noel Coward play, Brief Encounter stars Celia Johnson as a seemingly happily married housewife whose normal Thursday routine of shopping in a nearby town is blown to pieces when she meets and falls in love with a doctor, played by Trevor Howard. In fact her whole life is turned upside down and this experience of passionate, unexpected love grates with her conscience and the reality of her married life. Even though both characters are married the viewer comes to sympathise with their situation. Adultery can never be condoned but the characters are so believable and their relationship is so natural that part of you wants them to have the freedom to express their love. Did they marry the wrong person, or marry for the wrong reasons? Ulitmately their brief encounter is too late. Noel Coward's screenplay and David Lean's direction are a dynamite combination. Add some measured performances, great cinematography and Rachmaninov's Piano Concerto No.2, and you get a classic of British cinema. Challenging, intelligent and relevant. 9/10           

Forget Dan Brown - what is Opus Dei really like?

I haven't seen or read Dan Brown's The Da Vinci Code but by all accounts it is such poor literature that Stephen Fry once described it as "complete loose stool-water. It is arse gravy of the worst kind." (I have been waiting ages to use that quote) Moreover this 'arse gravy' has sold millions of copies throughout the world and possibly formed an particular image of Catholicism and Opus Dei in the minds of the general public. In short people might be stupid enough to think that the book is based on fact. And there is a plentitude of stupidity out there. Rather than go down the whole 'was Jesus married to Mary Magdelene' road, I am better qualifed through experience to write about what Opus Dei is really like. To the best of my knowledge, and probably much to the disappointment of many people, they are not Catholic assassins protecting the integrity of the Church at any costs, even to the extent of murder. Having read an response by a member of Opus Dei on the internet it seems that there is much fabrication in the book regarding this Catholic organisation. One example is that Dan Brown portrays Opus Dei members as monks who indulge in corporal mortification. Opus Dei are made up of lay men and women and diocesan priests who live and work in the secular world. Some take a vow of celibacy and live in community together but they don't wear robes or pray all day or withdraw from the world. But that's about the extent of my defense of Opus Dei. When in my late teens I visited the men's house in Glasgow and started to get involved in some of their organised activities. I was attracted to Opus Dei at first, being at a stage in my life when I was trying to find my place within the Catholic Church. But over time I started to feel uneasy and unhappy about certain aspects of Opus Dei and finally decided to stop all contact with them. One of the main reasons behind this decision was their elitism. They are very selective about who they welcome into their folds. They want to recruit middle-class men and women who have professional jobs, like doctors and lawyers for example, and people of a good intellect who are very conservative in the practise and belief of their Catholic faith. This behaviour flies in the face of what Opus Dei is supposed to be. The founder, Jose Maria Escriva, wanted Opus Dei to help men and women OF ALL jobs and social status and intellect to be witnesses of God's love in their workplace and daily lives. At some point along the road Opus Dei has lost sight of this and become an elitist, ultra-conservative Catholic instution mainly for the middle class and professionals. They might welcome a working class person like myself but as long as they are reasonably smart. Whenever I met a member or associate of Opus Dei one of the first things they would ask me is what grades I got at school. This happened to me on a number of occasions. Another thing I was not happy about was the intensity of their spirituality and the value placed on being intellectual. I felt under pressure to be a certain person and talk in a certain way and hold certain views. In short I couldn't be myself. I even felt I had to dress in a certain way to fit in. Recently I was at mass and afterwards I chatted to a couple of friends outside the church. A smartly dressed man wearing a tie and blazer joined our group but right away I knew that he was a member of Opus Dei, just from the way he dressed, and I was right. He was a nice guy, that is the thing. With a couple of exceptions all the members and associates of Opus Dei I have met have been really nice and sincere. It is only fair to mention this and I don't want people to thing this blog is a bitter rant against Opus Dei, it's simply my point of view based on my experiences. The idea of Escriva was fantastic and Opus Dei could be a great Catholic organisation but unfortunately it is not. To quote from the Prelature of Opus Dei in the USA "Opus Dei is for people who have a vocation to live their Christian faith in the middle of secular society." That should read ALL people, regardless of job, social standing and intellect.             

Edinburgh Festival with Mark Watson, The Rubberbandits and Educating Rita

                                          Mark Watson                                               

Our first show of the day was at 5.40pm but Tony, Alan and I decided to head through to Edinburgh with an hour to spare and squeeze in some valuable drinking time. We navigated our way to the Old Town part of the capital and found a pub selling some delicious but scandalously overpriced Thistly Cross cider. I can't remember what the pub was called, either Innis & Dunn or Innis & Gunn. If I had ordered an non-alcoholic beverage then maybe my brain would now be able to locate the exact name of the pub. We didn't have time for a second pint so we moved on to the George Square Theatre, a spectactuarly ugly building belonging to Edinburgh University. Grey concrete sucked the soul out of the building and it's ugliness was only heightened by the quaint cobbled stoned streets and tenemants of the surrounding area. Educating Rita is a play written by Willy Russell about the relationship between Frank, a somewhat disillusioned University tutor with a drink problem, and Rita, a frank talking hairdresser who takes a course in English Literature to lift herself out of the perceieved limitations and monotony of her social class and peers. Through the interaction of Frank and Rita, the only two characters portrayed, the plays goes on to deal with themes of social class, education, personal freedom and aspiration, and culture. The script is sharp and witty, at times challenging, and laced with a sense of impish fun which prevented the play from getting bogged down with too many references or discussions about literature and poetry. Matthew Kelly and Claire Sweeney had good chemistry together and played their parts convincingly. The set design was very detailed and well put together, giving the air of a scholarly study to contrast with Rita's working class dress and talk. It made you think about who literature and poetry and art belongs to. The way Frank would search for his hidden stash of whisky bottles behind various books on the shelves was a nice touch. All in all, a very enjoyable 90 minutes with lots to think and laugh about. After the play we sheltered under a canopy nursing some pints as the rain belted down. Ah, a Scottish summer. Up next was Mark Watson, an English stand up comedian best known to me from occassional guest appearances on Mock The Week. His show was called The Information and on the stage was a screen with Mark's mobile number, twitter account and email address. I overheard Alan groaning 'I hope this is not going to be more audience participation like with Adam Hills'. But fear not, Alan, as Mark Watson had plenty of good material to bulk out his routine. He did interact with the audience, which was good fun, but most of his jokes came from the whole topic of information access on the internet and other such technological advances. He was much funnier than I expected him to be and much wittier than his tv persona. As Alan pointed out, this is what Adam Hills should have been. We were all starving after the perfomance so we bought some overpriced food from some of the kiosks situated along the Assembly George Square. It was our best meal of the Festival, but McDonalds and Burger King were the level we were judging it by. We popped into the Udderbelly for a pint, wondering what this strange building was used for outwith the Festival, and then hung about the Gilded Balloon for a few pints as we waited for The Rubberbandits gig to start. Some 'technical issues' delayed us. Maybe one of them was having an Axl Rose diva strop. 'I'm not going on stage until ma God damn burger is cooked just the way I like it!' Eventually we were let in and ushered downstairs to the nightclub. We stood about not quite sure of what was going to happen as The Rubberbandits, a hip hop comedy duo hailing from Limerick in the west of Ireland, are not averese to writing songs of a potentially offensive nature. It was a case of hope for the best, prepare for the worst. Well, it was a suprisingly entertaining evening of two men wearing polyester bags over their heads rapping to music videos shown on a big screen behind them. With a couple of exceptions all the songs were funny and clever, and I was impressed by their ability to rap in sync with the music videos. Even their banter, or craic, inbetween songs was amusing. Irreverant, edgy but strangely entertaining. The show ran ovetime so we had plenty of time for one last, or was it two, pints before the 1.30am bus back to Glasgow. Another successful Festival. Mission accomplished.

 

                                           The Rubberbandits

Edinburgh Festival with Adam Hills, Sandi Toskvig and others

                                                   Adam Hills

An early start this week. The usual suspects, Tony, Alan and myself, arrived in Edinburgh late morning, leaving ourselves just enough time to grab a pint of very refreshing strawberry cider and get our seats for the first event of the day, 'Stu and Garry in the Lunchtime Show'. Alan was sitting too close to the small podium, so we shuffled along a few seats to get out of the line of fire. Not that we had much to worry about. Being improv-comedians Stu and Garry needed suggestions from members of the audience for their different sketches but they are not the sort to single anybody out and make fun of them. They proved to be a very likeable and funny double act, playing games similiar to those in Whose Line Is It Anyway?. Despite being relatively unknown they were funnier than some of the big name comedians we saw last week. They deserve a much larger audience and more exposure. We left The Assembly Rooms well satisfied and in the mood for more good laughs. A quick greasy pie on route to the Pleasance Grand had to suffice for lunch, we didn't want to be late for Sandi Toksvig's 'My Valentine'. For those who don't know Sandi Toskvig is a Danish/English radio and tv personality, writer, and comedian. She is a bubbly little character and bounded onstage to the aptly chosen 'Ode to Joy' by Beethoven. For the next hour she regaled us with funny anecdotes, stories, jokes, off the cuff wit and general merriment. Her big finish was to invite us to conduct the final few bars to 'Ode to Joy', which she lead with great enthusiasm and energy. I was tempted to join in but I didn't want to embarrass Tony and Alan. After the show we had several hours to kill until Adam Hills so we hung about the Pleasance for a few pints of Bulmers Cider (this blog is beginning to sound like it's involved in cider product placement). It was nice to just sit to there, chatting and slowly drinking, letting the alcohol kill our brain cells one by one. We moved on after a couple of hours, bumping into some of my cousins in the process, and eventually found a nice enough pub called The Hebrides for more cider. I managed to embarrass myself when chatting to a friendly guy from Liverpool and asked if he was from Poland. Maybe cider kills more brain cells than ordinary alcohol. As far as I remember, it's all a bit blurred from 5pm onwards, we wolfed down some fast food from Burger King before making our way to The Assembly Hall for Adam Hills. His show, entitled 'Mess Around', was not routine stand up, going from one joke or story to another. He basically just messed about with members of the audience, mostly to good effect. He possesses a bright and quirky personality and this helped him to interact well with the public, although to be honest I was hoping for more prepared material. His add lib jokes were generally quite funny but did not have me bent double with laughter. Our next show, also at The Assembly Hall, was Marcus Brigstocke: The Brig Society. The title of the show was a reference to David Cameron's famous Big Society speech, which was meant to inspire a generation of upstanding citizens to fill the void created by the present Governments regime of brutal cuts to public services. Brigstocke really got tore into David Cameron and George Osbourne, to the extent that comedy and entertainment were often pushed to the side. His political rant was punctuated by moments of laughter but it was few and far between. His show finished just after ten pm, so there was still time for one final pint. I can't remember the name of the pub but at least this time I didn't confuse a Liverpudlian with a Pole.

                                                   Sandi Toskvig

Edinburgh Festival with Stewart Lee, Mick Foley and The Lumberjacks

                                                Stewart Lee

It's that time of year again; a time of high adventure, even higher beer prices, pretty barmaids, even prettier female tourists, and a taste of some comedy and theatre that comes around only once a year in the life of an East End Glaswegian. I met Alan and Tony at the bus stop around 3pm and we didn't have long to wait for our transport to arrive. During the hour long journey I alternated between saying the rosary and deleting some of the 1500 text messages which is slowing down my phone, all the while trying to ignore a fuelled up loud mouth seated a few places behind. He interrogated a poor Sudanese man in a friendly but insistent way for the first half of the journey and then created a domestic scene with his better half, if you can call her that, for the remainder. Just after I stepped off the bus I remarked to Alan "If I ever turn out that like, you have my permission to shoot me". And I meant it. We then headed in the direction of The Assembly Rooms, a five minute walk from the bus station. All three shows this evening were to be held at The Assembly Rooms, which was a bit bizzare, so we thought that there would be no rushing about inbetween gigs but this did not prove to be the case. After a few pints at Wetherspoons and an interesting discussion about the Olympics, which were being shown on tv, we shuffled off for our first gig of the festival. The little I knew of Stewart Lee before this gig was a quick look at his standup on YouTube and I wasn't overly impressed. At The Assembly he bounded onstage and started brightly with some sharp socio-political jokes, but then for some reason the middle section started to flag badly. He started to play on the fact that only some parts of the auidence laughed at or understood his jokes and he began to explain the mechanics of his jokes in a way that suggested something was going wrong. I don't know how much of this was scripted or if he really did feel the need to explain things, but it was not funny and it made me feel uncomfortable. He picked up towards the end and finished strongly, but by then it was too late and I was glad when he had finished. He's a clever guy, I'll give him that, but not my type of comedian. A bit too cynical and smug. After the gig we didn't have much time so we shovelled down a cheap but unsatisfactory meal at McDonald's and rushed back to The Assembly Rooms for 'The Return Of The Lumberjacks', a trio of Candian comedians. The MC for the show, Craig Campbell, was a likeable hairy Canadian guy, and could not have been more different from Stewart Lee. He was the funniest of the Lumberjacks, interacting with the crowd well and dipping into Scottish culture for good comic effect. Next up was a rasping drawl dude whose name I did not quite catch. He was funny at times but never really engaged me in the same way the MC had done. Mick Foley guest appeared for ten minutes, so we got a little taster of what was to come later that evening. Last on was Stewart Francis, a comedian who seems to be battling it out with Tim Vine to be the king of the one-liners. His jokes were both corny and clever, and had the auidence groaning and laughing in equal measure. He's an edgier, harder version of Tim Vine but not quite in the same class. After the show we hurried about looking for a pub that did not have queues to the bar ten feet deep but we were out of luck and had to return to The Assembly unrefreshed. The queue for Mick Foley, former pro-wrestler and hardcore legend among devoted fans, was very long but we managed to get a decent vantage point inside. Mick's show proved to be interesting, funny and entertaining, and probably the highlight of the evening. He gave us a few anecdotes and behind the scenes stories about the bizarre world of pro-wrestling, but I was hoping for a bit more in that regard. Maybe the baser side of my nature was hoping that he would dish the dirt on some fellow wrestlers but he never did that. Still it was a good conclusion to a decent start to the festival. We travelled home relatively unscathed. I say relatively, because Alan was seated next to a semi-drunk passenger who was slumbering and slabbering over him at times. I guess that just has to go down as collatoral damage. It is the Festival after all.

                                                 Mick Foley