Best of 2012

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times."

Here in this blog entry are the best of 2012.

Best films of 2012.

1. The Artist
2. The Angel's Share
3. The Dark Knight Rises
4. Skyfall
5. Killing Them Softly
6. Argo
7. The Grey
8. Ruby Sparks
9. The Hobbit
10. End Of Watch

Best DVD's (that I rented in 2012)

  

1. Brief Encounter
2. Drive
3. Midnight In Paris
4. Moneyball
5. The Descendants
6. The Help
7. Cristina Vicky Barcelona
8. The Quiet American
9. The Hunter
10. Winter's Bone

An honourable mention to the following TV series' that I really enjoyed:

Breaking Bad
Damages
The Killing (Danish version)
Lie To Me

Best Albums (that I borrowed from the library or bought in 2012)

1. Blood On The Tracks by Bob Dylan
2. Out Of Time by R.E.M.
3. Stories From The City, Stories From The Sea by PJ Harvey
4. The Haunted Man by Bat For Lashes
5. A Creature I Don't Know by Laura Marling
6. Off The Wall by Michael Jackson
7. I Speak Because I Can by Laura Marling
8. Abbey Road by The Beatles
9. Alas I Cannot Swim by Laura Marling
10. Rhythm and Repose by Glen Hansard

Best Books (that I read in 2012)

1. Birdsong by Sebastian Faulks
2. Nineteen Eighty-Four by George Orwell
3. The Help by Kathryn Stockett
4. On Chesil Beach by Ian McEwan
5. Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro
6. Pure by Andrew Miller
7. The Sense Of An Ending by Julian Barnes
8. Regeneration by Pat Barker
9. Love In The Time Of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
10. If Nobody Speaks Of Remarkable Things by Jon McGregor

Best Babes of 2012 (the list every woman wants to be on)

                                                Jennifer Lawrence

1. Berenice Bejo
2. Alex Jones
3. Jennifer Lawerence
4. Michelle Dockery
5. Alexa Chung
6. Jodhi May
7.Christina Ricci
8. Rooney Mara
9. Laura Marling
10. Carey Mulligan

                                                 Berenice Bejo
                                                   
On behalf of everybody here at Gilfedder Corporations.com I wish you a very blessed and fruitful 2013! May it be the best of times!

 

The Hobbit (film review)

13 Dwarfs, one wizard and one hobbit in search of adventure. All from the imagination of JRR Tolkien, adapted for the screen by Peter Jackson. When given the green light to go ahead with The Hobbit I'm guessing that Peter Jackson saw this project as something of an opportunity to redeem himself after the critical and commercial flop of his 2009 adaptation of The Lovely Bones. Personally I didn't think the film was that bad, but it was certainly far removed from the giddy heights of The Lord Of The Rings trilogy. So does The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey live up to The Lord Of The Rings? Not quite but there is still a lot to admire and enjoy. The set and costume design is outstanding, and the CGI looks great. The cast boasts a rich array of talent, with Sir Ian McKellen leading the way as Gandalf the grey. Martin Freeman, who I had doubts about at first, fits into the role of Bilbo with great ease and assurance and I particularly liked Richard Armitage as Thorin Oakenshield, the leader of the dwarfs. Biblo, Gandalf and Thorin take up most the two and a half hour screen time but the other dwarfs still manage to provide a rich and colourful tapestry. There are some nice touches of humour throughtout, mostly delivered by the dwarfs and Bilbo. Lots of nasty looking orcs, trolls and goblins trouble our brave protagonists but The Hobbit is not as dark or serious as The Lord Of The Rings. A hugely enjoyable romp through Middle-earth. 8/10

Be fruitful and multiply. Not according to Ashley Judd.

"It's unconscionable to breed, with the number of children who are starving to death in impoverished countries" - Ashley Judd, Actress

Speak for yourself Ashley. I don't really understand her twisted logic. To follow that path, denying ourselves everything that the poor don't have, will not bring any relief or improvement to their lives. Every person is entitled to a good standard of living, and equally every person has a God given right to breed. What is unconscionable is to breed and not provide a loving home for children. What is unconscionable is to spend extravagently and not give to charity. If Ashley Judd is so concerned about the poor, then maybe she could give up one of her two houses. To be fair she does a lot of humanitarian and charity work and should be applauded for this, but telling us not to breed for the sake of the world's poor is a step too far.

Band Of Horses

                                            Band Of Horses

Back to the O2 Academy, my least favorite music venue in Glasgow. I hustled my way to the bar at the back and decided to stay in that vicinity to see if the sound system was more pleasant to the ear there. Or maybe it was my Scottish homing instinct to stay close to the service of alcohol. But it did make a bit of a difference. I was up close and personal with Laura Marling earlier this year but with the support act tonight I think being 50 yards to the rear did something to the acoustics and they sounded pretty good. They were a decent support act, that's two in a row, but I was hampered by a couple in front of me. They would occassionally lean over to whisper sweet nothings into their lover's ear but block out my view of the stage in the process. Cute but annoying, so for the main act I moved to a different vantage point. I noticed an older couple, maybe in their mid-fifties, sitting to my right. Maybe they just wanted a night out and bought tickets for 'Band of Horses' thinking 'that's a nice name for a band, they will surely sing gentle songs of nature'. Band of Horses are in fact a five piece rock band from Charleston, South Carolina. Having watched their music videos on YouTube I think they should change their name from Band Of Horses to Band of Beards, as there is an impressive array of facial hair on display. My own feeble whiskers pail in comparison to the lead singers prophetic growth. Their sound is actually difficult to pin down: they could be indie rock, alternative rock with a hint of country, etc. But live in concert they just rock, plain and simple. Live in concert you really appreciate them as a rock band. They didn't play as many songs from their new album as I had expected and quite a few of their songs I didn't recognise, as I own only two of their four albums, but it didn't really matter. They played most of my favorites. The Funeral. Is Their A Ghost? The Great Salt Lake. No Ones's Gonna Love You. And they played them with aplomb, gusto and an admirable energy that came across really well despite the shortcomings of the sound system. Even the older couple sitting to my right were grinning from ear to ear. I hope I'm like them in 20 years time. Never too old to rock!

                                           Respect the beard.

Celtic 2-1 Barcelona. Greatest result since Lisbon?

In 1967, long before I was born, Celtic beat Inter Milan 2-1 in Lisbon to become the first British football team to win the European Cup. That victory will always remain the pinacle of Celtic's footballing achievements, nothing can equal it, but last night they did the unthinkable by beating Barcelona 2-1 at Celtic Park in front of a passionate and delirious home crowd. It was the greatest result since Lisbon because Barcelona are the best club side ever to have graced the beautiful game. Lead by their talisman Lionel Messi, they boast players that are exceptional in their passing, movement, footballing intelligence and control of the ball. Barcelona have devised a way of systematically taking teams apart by using the aforementioned skills in wave after wave of intense attack. I've never seen a team ruthlessly dominate games in such a way before. There is something cold and calculated about it, but beautiful and hypnotic at the same time. Pass, move, pass, move, until they find a way to goal. To give Celtic their due, they were great as well, but not in the same way that Barcelona were great. Under intense pressure for most of the game Celtic played with lion hearts, fierce determination and admirable discipline. Most importantly they took their chances in front of goal. Celtic have enjoyed some great results in the past. Beating Manchester United 1-0 at home with a Nakamura wondergoal was fantastic, but trumping Barcelona was so much sweeter because they are the best of the best. To hail this as the greatest result since Lisbon is to honour Barcelona just as much as Celtic.    

Conversation with a racist

I was watching an episode of Judge Judy recently on YouTube. (Judge Judy is an American reality TV show in which real life plaintiffs take a case to court) The defendants were two black teenagers and they were found guilty of stealing a bag. The following conversation took place in the comments page between myself (MrMijagi1980) and SIOSpawn.

SIOSpawn:  typical black male, its not stereotypical its the facts.

MrMijagi1980: How do you know it's the facts? Seems like you are prejudiced against black males. Do you just turn a blind eye to the stupid, bad white males?

SIOSpawn: just in case you havent heard of google before, heres the research: In 2008 the breakdown for adults under correctional control was as follows: one out of 18 men, one in 89 women, one in 11 African-Americans (9.2 percent), one in 27 Latinos (3.7 percent), and one in 45 Caucasians (2.2 percent). Crime rates have declined by about 25 percent from 1988-2008.[15] 70% of prisoners in the United States are non-whites.

SIOSpawn: silly boy, im going to go ahead and assume that you assume im not a black male

MrMijagi1980: you're talking about the typical criminial, which is different from the typical male. your research would only back up your 'typical black male' opinion if it stated that the majority of black males are in prison. 9.2% is not a flattering statistic but it does not represent the majority.

SIOSpawn: ok take four blacks males, sayy......the 4 in this video , all 4 commited a crime, so right now we are at 100%, now add the black males from the audience i see 2, then of course the baliff, thats 3, so 4 out of 7 black males involved n this case are criminals...that = majority. and you argument is invalid about criminals vs non criminals because if the werent criminals then they wouldnt be in jail or n prison, beside every adult and most minors are criminals in the US.

MrMijagi1980: your argument does not make any sense. you can't take this isolated case and apply it to the general population of black males. the majority of black males are not in prison. you provided the stats yourself: 9.2% or 1 out of 11, not 4 out of 7. like I said 9.2% is not a good stat but 9.2% is not the majority, so your argument that the idiots in this video are 'typical black males' is untenable.

SIOSpawn: cool story, but we are not talking about the majority here, but since you brought it up, go around random neighborhoods and gather 10 black males, i bet more than half have committed a crime within the last week, now go gather your white neighbors, i bet the harshest crime they've commited that week would be speeding lol

MrMijagi1980: we are indeed talking about the majority here because you were talking about the 'typical black male'. by using the word 'typical' you are indicating that most black males are dumb and criminal, which I think is a crude prejudice.

SIOSpawn: you cannot just assume that all the rest are not criminals who have not yet been caught. what proof do you have to say that most black males are not criminals?

MrMijagi1980: you didn't answer my question - what proof do you have to say that most black males are criminals? neither of us can assume anything because we just don't know. innocent until proven guilty.

I didn't get a reply from SIOSpawn. Maybe he realised he was talking rubbish.

Bat For Lashes

The last time I had been to the O2 ABC venue in Glasgow was to watch the late great Bert Jansch play a live acoustic set. Bat For Lashes, the stage name for the multi-talented Natasha Khan, has not acquired the legendary status of Jansch yet but she is growing in stature and acclaim with each new album. It's fair to say that I was really looking forward to seeing her play live. The evening started well, with the bar at the ABC serving Gaymers cider, which is one of my favourites. A roadie must have been over enthusiatic with the smoke machine as I almost got lost when taking a wander across the standing area infront of the stage. I somehow navigated my way to the stage without the help of a Sherpa guide and after a brief wait the support act for the evening arrived. Sylver Tongue are an alternative electro pop outfit and proved to be better than your average support act. They had an interesting sound, largely synth driven, with the lead singer used her guitar skills to good effect on a few of their songs. When they finished their set I refuelled at the bar and then jostled my way to the front of the crowd. I watched the techies and roadies dismantling and then assembling equipment on the stage, like they were setting the scene for a new story to be told. Bat For Lashes and her bandmembers came onstage to raptorious applause from the few hundred fans who had gathered in anticipation. She was wearing a black and grey lycra body suit for some reason. I don't know if it was purely fashion or it had something to do with the themes of her new album but she looked great all the same. She turned out to be a very natural and expressive live performer, really in tune with her songs and the energy of the crowd. Although a multi-instrumentalist she only played the piano on a few occassions, prefering to stand alone with the microphone. I wonder if this was a conscious decision to expose her voice. It certainly worked and I came away from the gig with a new appreciation of her vocal skills, she really is a very good singer. Her band were excellent, professional to a man, and one woman. As expected half of the playlist were tracks from her new album, but she delved into her impressive back catalogue and stirred up the crowd with songs such as 'Daniel' and 'Horse And I'. Her best performance of the night was probably 'Laura', delivered with real emotion and conviction. The ABC venue was perfect for her, being just about the right size and offering an excellent sound system. Everything sounded clear and balanced. I hope she chooses the same venue next time around. All in all a great concert.

The way forward for Scottish football

                                                  John Collins

Scottish football might be coming to something of a crossroads. For years we have being talking the talk. Get back to basics, ie teaching kids how to pass and control the ball properly. But it's been all talk. The evidence was in front of me this evening as I watched Belgium tear apart Scotland. We only lost 2-0 but it could have been 4 or 5. This result leaves us bottom of the table in our qualifying group for Brasil 2014. If we finish the campaign bottom of the group then two things might happen. 1) Craig Levin, our current manager, will get the sack and be made a scapegoat for our dismal performances and results. 2) We will realise that we are at the bottom of the group because we don't produce good enough players and this will prove to be a catalyst for real and lasting change. Former Celtic and Scotland player John Collins is currently the director of football operations at Livingston FC, a lower league Scottish team, and he is determined to bring through young players who think and play football in the right way. Collins has enforced a policy of one touch football with the Livingston youngsters, and made it clear that he wants them to play this way regardless of results. It's a long term project and if it succeeds then it will surely inspire other clubs to go down the same path. I applaud Collins for his vision and determination. If the SFA (Scottish Football Association) don't pull their finger out then it could be the only way that Scotish football will move forward.

Ed Miliband and David Cameron

                                             Ed Milliband

For the sake of my sanity and nerves I usually give politics a wide bearth but in the last week two politicians have boiled my blood to such an extent that I have to vent some of my disgust and annoyance. First head on the chopping block is Labour leader Ed Milliband as I had the misfortune of catching some of Labour's Political Party Broadcast on the tv. There were two strands to the broadcast. Firstly Millband trying to ingratiate himself with the working class people of Britain by harping on about his school days at his comprehensive. Secondly he dredged up some former Harvard pupils and comprehensive schoolmates to sing his praises. It was all terribly sycophantic and cringeworthy. It wasn't quite as awful as listening to Tony Blair speak but it had the same shades of insincerity and falseness. Ed, just come on tv, drop the act and tell us why we should vote for you in a direct and meaningful way.
Second head on the chopping block is Prime Minister David Cameron. During his big address at the Conservative Party conference he said "There is only one real route out of poverty and it is work." Having a good work ethic is really important and can indeed be a route out of poverty, I don't deny that, but it's a much more complex reality that what the PM would like us to believe. I am born and bred in a working class area of Glasgow and I doubt very much that any of the young men and women of my area have been given all the advantages, privileges and help that Cameron has himself enjoyed since his youth. Many of the poor need a helping hand to lift themselves out of poverty - social issues such as poor education, broken homes and the negative influence of peers can seriously hold back people in their pursuit of a better life. So his statement is a gross oversimplification. There is a further irony in that Cameron demands the poor to work themselves out of poverty at a time of high unemployment. What planet are you living on David?

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

The Angel's Share (film review)

Director Ken Loach and screenwriter Paul Laverty join forces once again to bring us 'The Angel's Share', a comedy drama set in Glasgow and the Highlands of Scotland. Robbie, played by newcomer Paul Hannigan, is a young father who narrowly escapes a jail sentence and is sentenced to 300 hours of Community Payback. With the responsibility of fatherhood weighing on his shoulders Robbie is desperate to make a clean break from the cycle of violence and drug and alcohol abuse which he has found himself entrenched in for most of his young life. But his history of violence catches up with him and the future looks increasingly bleak for Robbie. His only shot at redemption and freedom comes in the unlikely form of the whisky industry. At a whisky tasting event he not only discovers that he has a good nose for whisky but a financial opportunity opens itself up to him and his group of friends, a payoff that could offer a fresh start in life. Ken Loach brings his trademark social realism to the film, which is a welcome relief from the mass produced artificality of many Hollywood films. Casting non-actors is a regualar Loach method to attain naturalism and he does this again to very good effect in 'The Angel's Share'. In real life Paul Hannigan used to run about in street gangs and it was through a community help group that Ken Loach offered him the part of Robbie. One wonders if the scar on his face is real or the work of a makeup artist. His acting debut is very impressive and despite his character's thuggish past and appearance the viewer grows to really root for him and you really want him to overcome the odds stacked against him. Equally impressive is John Henshaw who plays Harry, a kindly Community Payback supervisor who helps Robbies out in a difficult situation and subsequently introduces him to the world of whisky appreciation. The screenplay is sharp and funny, providing much light relief and genuine laughs when the darker side of life threatens to overshadow. The language is fruity to say the least. The film had to be edited to receive a 15 certificate, but for some reason the swearing does not offend too often, which is maybe to the credit of Loach, Laverty and the cast. The characters are great, believable and human, and some of the banter between them is very funny. The plot takes many surprising and pleasant twists and turns, again take a bow Paul Laverty. The social issues raised in the film are highly relevant and Loach does not pull his punches in depicting the underbelly of Glasgow, but ultimately 'The Angel's Share' is a feelgood tonic of a film. One of the best Scottish films I've seen in a long time and one of the best films of 2012. 8.5/10

My week in Lourdes

Intro - Lourdes is a small town in the south of France, just nestling beneath the Pyrenees Mountains. In 1858 it was documented that Mary the Mother of God appeared to a local girl called Bernadette Soubirous on eighteen occasions and since then the town has been a place of pilgrimage for millions of Roman Catholics, many spurred on by the reports of miraculous healings. My first four visits to Lourdes were as a carer with HCPT (Handicapped Children’s Pilgrimage Trust) but I was there this time as a sick pilgrim, something I would never have envisioned for myself. It is a humbling experience, as I want to be the strong one, the one who supports and cares for others, but I must accept that this is where I am just now in my life. Lourdes has played an important part in my life, helping me to grow in confidence and self-esteem as a shy and awkward teenager, and teaching me that selfless love for others is a very fulfilling and enriching experience. I made a personal pilgrimage to Lourdes in 2008 when my health was very poor, giving my family and I the strength to endure just a bit more. I am not sure why God called me back to Lourdes this year, but nobody who comes to Lourdes with an open heart goes away empty handed.
Friday – An early start with 8.45am mass at Motherwell Cathedral and then away we go to Edinburgh Airport. On the bus I notice a young lad with a t-shirt, which I thought was brave. I was covered in my usual seventeen layers of clothes, paranoid about the weather like there is a rain storm lurking with sinister intent around every corner. Everything goes smoothly at the airport, which I find surprising because I look like a Russian gangster in my passport photo. Soon we are in the air, arriving at Lourdes about two and half hours later. There are introductions and pleasant small talk over dinner, a four course affair which leaves me breathless. I skipped evening service. It was a long day and I was tired. There will be plenty of other opportunities for prayer and reflection. At the end of the day I had a good feeling about the coming week, both for myself and my parents.
Saturday – Thursday’s sleepless night caught up with me so after lunch I decided to skip mass at the Rosary Basilica and take an extended siesta, watching some golf on television up until dinner. Earlier today one of the priests said that confession was a good way of starting a pilgrimage in Lourdes, preparing a way for the Lord with a clean slate. I liked this idea so after dinner my mum and I went to confession. The priest, Father Harry, was a lovely, gracious man. The torchlight procession was a beautiful experience. It was a balmy evening as thousands of pilgrims gathered at the Grotto and then processed to the square in front of the Basilica while saying the rosary, led by people of different nationalities over the loudspeaker system. Even Arabic was sung, which I found enchanting and moving. The atmosphere was very peaceful and prayerful.
Sunday – Scorching day. After lunch there was the Blessed Sacrament procession. Walking down to the Basilica Square I had a good conversation with Harry, the priest who had heard my confession the previous day. The procession was nice but sometimes I don’t respond well to religious services or environments and this was one of those times. I was fine later on, although disappointed that the pretty brunette waitress who had caught my eye at lunch earlier that day was missing at dinner. It must have been her day off. In the evening there was quiz, which was fun. I enjoyed some red wine and banter, and it was good to get to know some of the other pilgrims better.
Monday – After lunch we went to the baths. It is tradition in Lourdes to bathe in the waters, something which Our Lady asked us to do when talking to St. Bernadette. When I got up in the morning a heavy wave of depression washed over me. I had a not experienced something like this for a couple of years and I had no idea where it came from. It lasted only a couple of hours but when I got to the baths I decided to make this visit for all those people out there suffering from the terrible scourge of depression. I have been to the bathes several times but I am always a little daunted by the experience because the water is so cold. You undress and then are covered with a towel that is so cold that it takes your breath away. Fortunately the helpers are very respectful and kind. They help you down a couple of steps into a regular sized bath with the water coming up to your knees and then dip you back until you are submerged up to your neck. You stand back up, there are a few moments of prayer and then the helpers guide you out to the dressing area. I felt good after coming out of the baths, rejuvenated and light hearted. After a quick visit to the Blessed Sacrament Chapel, my dad and I went for a coffee and a few glasses of wine, enjoying our conversation in the sun, a novel experience for two Scots. No father/son time is complete without talking about football, but we conversed about other things as well. I enjoyed our time together. At the evening meal the pretty brunette waitress was back sporting a new hairstyle. I like to think she had this done just for me. I decided to visit the Grotto at night so I went down at about 11pm, looking forward to the very peaceful and special atmosphere that the Grotto has at that time. Unfortunately there was a mass taking place when I arrived so I lit a candle for family and friends and went back to the hotel. On my return I felt unwell, so I took two paracetamol and went to bed.
Tuesday – I awoke late to more glorious weather. After lunch we went to the Rosary Basilica for the Mass of the Anointing of the Sick. Bishop Devine said mass but I understood about four words in forty. The sound system was poor but Bishop Devine had the unfortunate habit of jerking his head away from the microphone and speaking very fast. Still it was a nice service and good to receive the sacraments. No sign of the pretty brunette at dinner so my attention turned to a nice looking blonde waitress. I fear that I am becoming a serial womaniser, even if it’s all in my head. After dinner I watched some television and then went for an amble with my parents. On return to my hotel I was feeling unwell again. I was furious at God and a mixture of swear words and prayers flew in his direction. I came to Lourdes in an act of faith and then this happens. What the hell are you playing at Lord?
Wednesday – I awoke with murder in my heart and this must have been visible during lunch because my mum suggested that I speak with Harry. After some humming and hawing I relented to her idea. Harry was very attentive, gracious and our talk helped me a lot. He is an excellent man and priest.  Today was a free day so after lunch I spent some time with my parents down at the Grotto and then at a chapel with adoration of the Blessed Sacrament. The day was another scorcher so we went to a café and treated ourselves to some sorbet. It was so hot that I half expected to hear the main theme tune to Lawerence Of Arabia strike up. There was still no sign of the pretty brunette waitress at dinner. Maybe she is so distraught at the thought of me leaving that the end of the week that she has hurled herself into the river that runs through Lourdes. I continue to leave a trail of broken hearts in my wake. Quiet evening watching television.
Thursday – Last day of the pilgrimage. Temperatures around 35 degrees. After lunch we gathered across the river from the Grotto, finding some shade for the closing ceremony which included a renewal of our baptismal vows. It was a nice way to end the pilgrimage. We had some more free time to sample sorbet at our favourite café. I tried a tangy lemon flavour.  At dinner I spoke to Harry and I was touched and pleased that he had bought me gift and a card. I hope to stay in contact with him. Quiet evening watching Olympic football.
Friday – A very early rise and some bitter coffee was not the best start to the day. It would only get worse. We arrived at the airport only to discover that our flight had been delayed by a few hours so we headed back to Lourdes where we lounged about the hotel in a state of limbo. Back again to the airport but there were further delays. This was tough enough for me, a young guy, but it must have been much worse for the old and infirm of body. I read P.G Wodehouse to keep my spirits up. We didn’t get into the air until about 10.30pm and then instead of a decent meal the trolley dollys handed out limp, plastic sandwiches. I think most of us were on autopilot by this time and just wanted to get home. I did not get to my bed until 4am. It was not the ideal way to end a very successful and enjoyable week, but, apart from the chill I caught and the brief spell of depression I experienced, this was really the only negative aspect of the pilgrimage. I am not quite sure what I exactly took from the whole experience of being in Lourdes on pilgrimage. I just have that feeling of being blessed.

Cherry Healey v Louis Theroux - who is the best?

Cherry Healey is an English television presenter, best known for her BBC documentaries which look at various aspects of modern life and culture. Louis Theroux has been around the block a lot longer, starring in documentaries about the weird and the wonderful since the late 1990's. I really like both presenters. Cherry is honest, genuine, insightful and brings an attractive personality to her programmes. She is more direct in her documentary approach than Louis, the later skillfully manipulating his subjects to reveal their often bizarre or shocking behaviour and beliefs to the viewer. Both try to remain as non-judgemental as possible, with perhaps Louis often taking a more philosophical or liberal stance. I like Louis' laid back and personable approach. He seems to find ways of winning the confidence of his subjects, often amid very unusual circumstances. Louis' documentaries are more extreme in their subject matter than Cherry's, and he has spent time with and interviewed the likes of porn stars and extreme religious organisations. Cherry deals with issues more mainstream and perhaps relevant to the viewer, but still manages to provide entertainment as well as insight. I don't prefer one presenter over another, I think they bring different qualites and strengths to different types and styles of documentary.

A Monk Swimming by Malachy McCourt

‘A Monk Swimming’ contains the candid memoirs of wild Irish rover of NYC, Malachy McCourt, younger bro of the must published Frank McCourt, of ‘Angela’s Ashes’ fame. Malachy focuses mostly on his formative years in the Big Apple, which include his extensive exploration of the cities bars and pubs, his fleeting foray into the world of acting, travels around the world and an unhappy and unsuccessful marriage. The main strengths of the book are its honesty, clarity of detail and that McCourt writes well, bringing to life the various colourful characters and all the highs and lows that come with the combination of copious amounts of alcohol and an erratic temperament. Indeed, at times McCourt’s constant drinking and womanizing are in danger of becoming tiresome to the reader, but McCourt has a certain charm of prose that keeps each chapter in his adventures interesting and strangely compelling. McCourt wrote ‘A Monk Swimming’ when he was approaching his seventies, no mean feat for a man who should have died years ago with a failed liver or a frazzled brain due to several years of a hard drinking lifestyle. His poor upbringing in Limerick and his Irish Catholic roots are two threads that runs through the memoirs, both of which he regards with some bitterness and distain. A better family background and a kindlier experience of Catholicism would probably have produced a much more stable and happy man and a very different type of memoir. Apparently Malachy wrote a sequel to ‘A Monk Swimming’, hopefully with less drinking and his character mellowing with age. Irreverent, entertaining and written with gusto. 7/10

BBC's version of Birdsong

An tv adaptation of Sebastian Faulks modern classic ‘Birdsong’ was always going to be a big ask but the BBC has a very good track record in period dramas, ‘Bleak House’ being the most outstanding example to date.  The tv series of Birdsong jumps back and forth, focusing on the main protagonist Stephen Wraysford at two crucial points in his life: a love affair he has in Amiens, a small town in Northern France, in 1910, and his experience of the western front six years later during the Great War. The novel does not use this non-linear unfolding of events but it works well on tv, allowing the viewer to understand the relationship between past and present in Stephen’s life. The acting all round is very impressive, particulary Eddie Redmayne and Clemence Poesy who manage to capture the passion and fragility of Stephen and Isabelle’s affair with conviction and tenderness. It might be a period drama but the director chooses to show the sex scenes in a fairly juicy way, so don’t be expecting Jane Austen’s subtle undertones of sexuality. A lot of the budget must have been invested in the costumes and sets as they do very well to contrast the opulence and comfort of Amiens 1910 with the grim horror of the trenches 1916. The music plays its part well, both seductive and poignant when required, and helps to flesh out the emotions of the characters or scene at a given point in time. BBC's Birdsong does not reach the greatness of Faulk’s novel but there are many things to like about this tv adaptation and I should think that most fans of the book will not be disappointed. 8/10

The Crow Road by Ian Banks

Set at the beginning of the 1990's in Scotland, 'The Crow Road' centers around Prentice McHoan and all the different dynamics within his family, past and present. Prentice is a history student, bright but unsure of many things, an aspect that many young people of his age can relate to. He is estranged from his father over issues of theism, both fond and jealous of his elder and successful brother Lewis, suffering from unrequited love and constantly wondering about the mystery of his Uncle's sudden disappearance eight years ago. There are other supporting characters, such as Ashley, one of his old school chums. The banter between them is both amusing and revealing. To be honest, at first I didn't really 'get' what 'The Crow Road' was all about, I wasn't sure what Ian Banks was trying to say but I definitely grew to enjoy the book after a few chapters, depsite the non-linear plot which I occassionally found confusing. Banks is certainly a talented writer, bringing the settings and characters to life with vivid and skillful prose. His humanist and secular views are conveyed in various guises, but he does not ram them down the reader's throat like Philip Pullman did with 'His Dark Materials'. Not a classic but although I didn't 'get' it 'The Crow Road' still proved to be an enjoyable and worthy read. 7.5/10  (Contains strong language and sex)

Prometheus

Prometheus had big shoes to fill, but with Ridley Scott in the director’s chair critics myself and audiences alike have been salivating at the thought of an Alien’s prequel. With the exception of ‘The Artist’ and ‘The Grey’, the films I have seen so far in 2012 have been watchable but nothing to write home about. Perhaps for this reason I was pinning all my cinematic hopes on Prometheus to be the shining light in the drab and uninspiring season. The trailer looked great and I deliberately avoided reading any reviews on its release, just to keep the sense of excitement alive.  But alas, Prometheus joins the ranks of this year’s watchable films. The idea is good, a crew of 17 (plenty of expendable victims!) travel through space in search of the origins of the human race but only to be met with a few nasty surprises. However from the very start of the film there is something lacking in the film that was prevalent in ‘Alien’, ‘Aliens’ and to a some extent ‘Alien 3’. An edge, atmosphere, horror and suspense, call it what you will, it just isn’t there. Noomi Rapace plays the lead character Elizabeth Shaw competently enough, although her English accent is a bit dodgy at times. Guy Pearce is good as Weyland, the man who is funding the whole mission, and captures his desire for immortality and big answers. It is Michael Fassbender who really stands out in his role as David, the android, and Fassbender can add another notch to his growing list of critically acclaimed performances. The visual aspect of Prometheus is an effective blend of good CGI and hand crafted sets but in saying that maybe some of the magic of Alien was the lack of CGI. The plot has a few holes in it and at the conclusion of the film the audience ends up with more questions than answers. As a film standing alone it is certainly watchable, but compared to the first three Alien films it falls far short. The trailer is better than the actual film, which is never a good sign! 6/10     

BBC's coverage of Euro 2012 - self absorbed?

Below is an email of complaint I sent to the BBC regarding their coverage of the Euro 2012 Championship so far.

Dear sir/madam,

I am writing to complain about the BBC's coverage of the Euro 2012 football championship. I feel that too much time is being spent talking about England. When watching a non-England game, Germany v Portugal for example, during the half time anaylsis the pundits will spend more time talking about England's squad than the actual game that they are supposed to be covering. This has happened in every game I have watched on the BBC. I find this biased and self-absorbed coverage very annoying and unprofessional. Please remember that Wales, Northern Ireland and Scotland are part of the UK and BBC and would probably prefer the pundits to talk about the game being played rather than England's chances in the tournament. Would the BBC give Scotland, Northern Ireland and Wales the same amount of attention if they were in the tournament? I am not anti-English, I just object to this type of broadcasting.

Yours sincerely,

Michael James Gilfedder

Do nice guys always finish last?

It seems to be a hard and fast rule that nice guys finish last. This is considered especially true in the context of love and work. But this common perception might be a fallacy, or at least not the full picture. It's true that in the workplace men and women bully their way to the top, doing things to achieve success that other people, more decent human beings, would not do. Office politics can be a minefield and often the victim will be the nice guy. They might not get the promotion or the credit that is their due, but at least they will have the respect of good colleagues and a clean conscience at the end of the day. Moreover, even in these difficult work environments nice guys can achieve success if they work at areas that might not be their main strengths, like confidence, assertiveness and discernment. Like Jesus once said: "I'm sending you out like sheep among wolves. So be as cunning as snakes but as innocent as doves." I think with this mindset nice guys can succeed in the workplace without compromising their principles and nice personality. In terms of love, I think the nice guy just has to be patient and keep things in perspective. How many times have I watched the Jeremy Kyle or Jerry Springer Show and seen three highly unattractive women fighting over a guy who is often a cheat or a wife beater? To be honest, I would rather remain single than be partnered up with these gorillas. It is indeed frustrating when the nice guy seems to get overlooked all the time but, like my dad once said, nice guys attract the nice girls and I think there is a lot of logic and truth in that. It's worth the wait, so keep being nice and in the end you'll get your nice girl. At the very least you won't end up with a gorilla for a wife!     

Eurovision Song Contest - a wasted opportunity?

It might be a guilty pleasure for millions of people but the Eurovision Song Contest grates on every one of my nerves. The flaws are obvious. Generic, bland, tacky and gimmicky are some of the words that spring to mind. Also the political voting which takes place between countries makes a mockery of the contest and further drains the whole thing of credibility. For example, just after Britain had invaded Iraq to universal opposition, our entry receieved a grand total of nil points. But the thing that really annoys me is that the Eurovision Song Contest is a good idea gone wrong. It has so much potential to really showcase the very best of European music. I am listening to Danish singer-writer Agnes Obel as I write this blog and I am going to see First Aid Kit, a Swedish folk duo, in concert later this year, so the talent is definitely there. So far the only good thing to come out of the Eurovision Song Contest has been Abba and Terry Wogan's drawl humour. Either the contest undergoes a radical revamp by the powers that be or a country takes a risk and breaks this trend of superficial pop by consistantly entering non-mainstream musicians and bands of genuine quality. Until that happens the Eurovision Song Contest will remain a wasted opportunity. The ironic twist is that the entire affair is now so ridiculous that aspiring bands and singer-song writers with integrity and talent will not want to be associated with it and are likely to give it a wide bearth. Alas.

The inward and outward journey

"...nothing so liberalizes a man and expands the kindly instincts that nature put in him as travel and contact with many kinds of people." - Mark Twain

I am not a huge Mark Twain fan but I like this quote and I think there is some truth in it. When I read it recently it reminded me of a tv program I watched a few years ago about inner city violence in Los Angles. The thing that stuck with me was that almost all of the gang members had never been outside of L.A., that their gang culture was the only way of life they had ever known. It is a sad reality. Maybe if these gang members were given the opportunity to travel and experience different cultures and lifestyles then they would feel inspired to do something positive with their lives. In a different environment and surrounded by different people then hopefully they would blossom and flourish. But some people need therapy, not travel. I remember hearing a homily by a priest and he gave the following analogy: if you put a cow on a train from Glasgow to Aberdeen then the cow will still be a cow when it arrives in Aberdeen. I think the point he was trying to make is that there are people running around, filling up their lives with work and activities, but they are too afraid to look at what's going on inside them. There is no point in travelling the world with a broken personality, you will still be the same person wherever you go. If you are miserable in the east end of Glasgow then you are likely to be just as miserable on the gondolas of Venice or on top of the Effiel Tower in Paris. It takes courage to face our own brokeness and set those inner demons free. But I think the inward journey and outward journey of our lives can go hand in hand and both can set in motion the liberation and kindly instincts that Mark Twain speaks about.

On Chesil Beach by Ian McEwan

With 'On Chesil Beach', Ian McEwan serves up a beautifully crafted and haunting novella to add to a string of critically acclaimed and best selling novels. Set during the early 1960's, a newly married couple, Edward and Florence, travel to the Dorset coastline to celebrate the first night of their honeymoon. As both settle into their hotel, next to Chesil Beach, and as they try to enjoy their evening meal they are inwardly preoccupied with the impending consumation of their marriage.  During their courtship and engagement both neglected to discuss the whole issue of having sex and as the event draws closer and closer they grow increasingly anxious, but for very different reasons. McEwan skillfully interweaves this situation with flashbacks of the couple's past and thus builds up a rich and subtle picture of the two characters. What happens on Chesil Beach is a powerful and heart-renching climax, a warning against the human pitfalls of repression and pride. McEwan writes with great style and captures the reader from his very first sentence, never letting go. Beautiful, compelling and devastating. (Contains one scene of strong sex) 8.5 out of 10.     

Happy-Go-Lucky

Last year much acclaimed author Sebastian Faulks made a tv series exploring what makes a great novel. In his opinion the driving force of great literature is not the plot, but the characters, this is what is more important to the reader. He looked at various characters throughout classic and modern literature, from the lover to the villain and so on. If he is true to his word then he would surely approve of Mike Leigh’s ‘Happy-Go-Lucky’, a character driven film starring Sally Hawkins as Poppy, a perpetually cheerful and optimistic school teacher. She is an engaging character, with much funny and entertaining banter, although at times her constant quirkiness and ‘niceness’ is a bit exhausting to the viewer or maybe I am in danger of becoming a grumpy old man. Saying that I would much rather there were more Poppy’s in the world, spreading sweetness and light than, well, grumpy old men like me. But there are moments when life’s trials and tribulations force her into seriousness and you get a glimpse of her hidden depths. One strand of the film deals with Poppy getting driving lessons from a highly strung, and possibly mentally imbalanced, driving instructor played brilliantly by Eddie Marsan. Their scenes together give the film some needed spice and fizz, for want of a better word. Mike Leigh’s social realism approach to the film is very effective and there are some scenes of Poppy interacting with her pupils and friends and even her driving instructor which are touching and uplifting. Sally Hawkins’ received much critical acclaim for her portrayal of Poppy and although I thought she could have toned down her character just a smidgeon she is generally deserving of all the praise that came her way. An entertaining, skillfully made and genuinely feel good film. 8/10