Fancyplants' Cracked Pot

If Someone Was Going To Do It...

2012-02-03T19:07:00.001Z

It pretty much had to be Charlie Brooker.

Obscure games, technology and culture fan, and a sometime columnist in a major national newspaper. It had to be him, and his seemingly brief trip to a place he has wanted to visit for ages brought back some of my own fond memories and feelings for the place. He picks up on what I love about the place, was confused out of my mind about, and just went with the flow about.

Shame he didn't seem to look beyond the capital and into the beauty and oddity of the rest of the country. The comments are full of others who have done the same, whose words make me nostalgic and happy.

"Somehow, I was home." - Charlie, I know exactly how you feel.

Things I Didn't Know About My Own Country

2012-01-25T19:50:00.001Z

Blogger and Youtuber CGPGrey puts me in my place about the geopolitical history of the big bit of ground I am currently stood on.

His channel is a cool way to lose an afternoon, too. Knowledgeable explanations of all sorts of interesting subjects, with a handful of video game/internet meme references thrown in.

Vindicated!

2012-01-08T18:02:00.005Z

It's a new year, and apart from many other things that come with that (including 25 shiny new days holiday from work to use up), I have an added bonus - the six-month wait to see if my stony resolve won out has expired, and thus I have won the battle!

It is only a small financial victory - the opportunistic parking fine was cut down to £25 from £50 after I explained to them all the different reasons why they were wrong, but it was a matter of principle. And it's proof that if you receive one of these fines yourself, you can stand up for your rights and win. (so long as you have a good excuse anyway)

If you find yourself in a similar situation as me - a parking fine slapped on your windscreen when you return to your car - and you are in a privately owned car park (ie not a council one) then you have a good chance of also avoiding the fine.

1. Get photos of your car, the area and any signage.
2. Write a letter (using this as a template) explaining why it is wrong, including photos.
3. Resist the temptation to respond to any replies, unless they are official court orders or to do with the police (which if it is a private fining company, won't be if you have made a good case).
4. After six months from the ticket date, you can consider it abandoned.

The third one is the hardest. The parking fine companies will tailor their letters to look as threatening and as official as possible, whilst staying just to the right side of legal. You need to learn how to spot the difference between something with the law behind it, and a close facsimile just trying to scare you into paying. This website is a good place to check any received correspondence against letters received by others. Also Martin Lewis has his own section on parking fines and how to avoid paying them.

Good luck, and keep your nerve.

The Golden Plantpots 2011

2011-12-31T21:49:00.062Z

Slightly belated, my film recommendations are here. Again I managed to miss the delights of Cambridge, but Bradford, Edinburgh and Leeds each managed to showcase some genuinely brilliant films, as well as a couple of duds. Again, the quality of the selections on show was really high, although all three festivals (and what I saw of the Cambridge spread) seemed to be suffering from some squeezed middles. Leeds in particular cut back on the film output during the lean dinnertime hours.

But anyway, the films (with the exception of the occasional ones I watched outside of festivals) are from the collections below:

Bradford (February)
Edinburgh (June)
Leeds (November)

Feel free to add your views.

Best Film - The Artist (Fra)
The last festival film of the year just edges it from Snowtown and As If I Am Not There, whose shocking imagery may have put some off.

A daring revival of the silent film, The Artist feels like a work crafted with a deep love for the medium and a megaphone to remind us of the qualities we miss when our ears are battered by complicated soliloquies, cheesy one-liners and shouty-swearythons. As the vocals fade away the picture becomes more vivid; we notice more, and we concentrate more. It is a beautiful (though deliberately well-trodden) tale of a rags-to-riches screen siren meeting a suave silent film star in the limelight of his career, with brief cameo roles for people who almost seemed to beg to be crowbarred into this labour of love. Go see it, it's in the cinemas now.

And help Uggie to get an Oscar!

Honourable Mentions:

- Snowtown (Aus) - A biopic of Australia's most violent criminal just missed out on the top spot, only because, once you have seen it you won't want to step outside for a while. A harsh, violent upbringing for young James Vlassakis, whose life is invaded by the scary face of John Bunting, whose self-righteous attitudes towards others turn increasingly extreme, and James, an impressionable teen finds it difficult not to bond to the gruesome father-figure. Powerful, brooding and more able to disturb than the bloodiest horror film.

- As If I Am Not There (Irl/Mac/Swe)
For the same reason as Snowtown, you won't want to see this if you are in a cheery mood; but the terrible ordeal of young Sarajevo student teacher Samira when she chooses the wrong time to move to a remote Bosnian village, just as the war is about to start. Referencing real-life accounts of some of those who made it through alive, its ultimate message of the need to keep your humanity through the worst or not make it at all, raises it to the league of films such as Schindlers List.

- Symbol (Jpn)
Symbol just made me smile so much, long after I left the cinema. Completely crazy, unpredictable and refreshing, with an ending sequence that took the audience on a 2001-style odyssey. The audience is trapped in the room with the unnamed man as he struggles like a rat in a maze. Nothing else like it out there.

- Together/Tillsammans (Swe/Den/Ita)
Although it's a few years old, Together's warm glow of affection for the disfunctional family it portrays gave it an Elling-style effect of good humour and the cosy feeling of a fireside view, of a group of disparate people working out the creases as someone new arrives and a new chapter opens in the house.

- Tyrannosaur (UK)
Powerful and emotionally charged right from the off, the first film by Paddy Considine stays just on the right side of heart-wrenching as it describes the lives of two wretched souls who find some solace in each other, only once they are honest with both each other and the viewer. Olivia Coleman is excellent as the quiet and unassuming Hannah, whose final scenes will have your eyes pointed unblinking at the screen.

- Small Town Murder Songs (Can)
The Coen Brothers-style story of a murdered woman, and the village cop trying to find out who did it is sharpened by Walter's hidden past, and his ingrained opinions of the residents of his community clouding his judgement. Evoking biblical scripture writ large on the landscape and the hard-edged melodies of backwater fireside songs, the film becomes more than it's story alone and has a distinct style of its own.

- 22nd of May (Bel)
What could have been a very annoying experimental film turned out to be an excellent way of bamboozling the viewer just short of them loosing a handle of the story. A security guard at a shopping mall survives a terrorist bomb, but his psychosis takes over when he flees, as he meets with the ghosts of the victims, including the bomber.

- The Borrower Arrietty (Jpn)
A Ghibli film in the mix? Surely not. Arrietty didn't have Miyazaki at the helm but he was there in the wings, as Hiromasa Yonabayashi takes his turn as the next hopeful who can carry on the studio's legacy. Arrietty is a beautifully-drawn animation in the traditional Ghibli style, and refreshingly free of computer graphics.

- The Guard (Irl/UK)
Brendan Gleeson and Don Cheadle on a Scottish moor chasing gangsters. Your argument is invalid. This smart and sharply written film balances comedy, tragedy and action nicely as Gleeson's cosy world is bothered by an American agent sent in to sort out the bad guys.

- Point Blank (Fra)
As breathless action films go, Point Blank could have casualties by the closing credits. A young medic gets involved in layers of police corruption and has to risk his neck to get his pregnant wife back. You will not see a finer action film this year.

Best Short Film - The First Step (UK)
Shown as part of a collection of home-grown short films on the nature of mental health, The First Step is a clever, sensitive and witty study of a woman under her duvet, as she imagines all the things she will be able to do today, if only she can take that first step.

Honourable Mentions:

- Lost At Sea (UK)
A beautifully folk-y music video from Cashier No9, which deserves much recognition.

- Bottle (US)
More traditional stop motion is used to bring to life the amorphous blobs of sand and snow, who conduct a present-swapping session from opposite ends of the sea. A perfect mix of funny and sad.

- Silent Things (UK)
Delicately handled, the simple lives of autistic couple Jake and Amy are disrupted by a young woman who decides to flirt with Jake for a laugh, not realising the damage she is doing.

- Tetleys: Quality Pays (UK)
An enjoyable and deceptively deep mini documentary about the Tetley's brand, and the new owners' decision to get rid of the traditions behind it and brew it abroad.

- The Visit (Sir)
Initially sombre, a visit by a long-distant son to the death-bed of his father is cleverly turned on its head in the final moments.

- The Secret Friend (Bra/US)
The heavy breather chooses the wrong (or maybe right) old granny to call, whose loneliness causes her to revalue her experience.

- The Monster of Nix (Bel)
Verging on a feature-length film, this computer generated short animation is highly polished and well written, and the notion of existence and storytelling being intertwined are cleverly approached.

- Luminaris (Arg)
Funny and clever. A painstaking process of stop motion animation involving people, rather than clay characters tells of a surreal world where people make lightbulbs in their mouths, and half-inching office supplies can realise a dream.

- Fawn (UK)
A sad but beautiful tale of the ghosts of children murdered on the moors. That's all you need to know.

Best Animation - The Borrower Arrietty (Jpn)
Few other titles can compete when a new Ghibli film appears (although this is already eclipsed by the imminent From Up on Poppy Hill).

Arrietty is a skilful retelling of the Borrowers tales, using the main characters and framework, and transporting them to a quiet Tokyo suburb, where Arrietty meets Sho, a fragile boy with a heart condition who stays with his aunt, whose tales of the little people she is sure she has seen are realised in the garden one day. Beautiful, and well worth a second watch.

Honourable Mentions:

- Colorful (Jpn)
If there were no Arrietty, this would take top spot this year. Colorful has roughly the same action level as Mai Mai Miracle from last year, (i.e. none, so action-nuts should stay clear) and although it doesn't quite reach the level of praise I threw at that film, it is still a well drawn and intelligently written film, though the big surprise twist at the end is eminently guessable.

- Mars (US)
This low-budget semi-comedy from America won't be pushing up the Oscars list but while the money was flowing, they produced a sharp and funny lament on the space race coming to a close, and the people who may come in to fill the void. The visual style of colouring in live-action and mixing it with chunky computer graphics covered some of the budgeting cracks, and added to the appeal of the film.

- La Detente (Fra)
A clever short animated film about a soldier's delusional re-imagining of the Somme battlefield of World War One, a coping mechanism where his childhood toys and memories replace the horrific scenes in front of him are both sensitively handled and an ingenious portrayal of the torturous effect on the minds of young men about to be killed. A nice companion to The Stars Don't Twinkle in Outer Space.

- The Gloaming (Fra)
A short film with the reach of a feature. The entire history of human conflict played out as an earth-like sphere develops in front of a man, who looks on perplexed and with dismay at the wasted lives.

- Grave of the Fireflies (Jpn)
This Ghibli classic is nearly a quarter century old now, but it has lost none of it's power to leave audiences sobbing. Showing at Leeds this year, it's the sort of film with the oomph to mean you don't need to watch it again for a while. The effects of World War Two on a brother and his younger sister as their meagre rations run out and the adults around them are too busy looking after themselves is heart breaking but also life-affirming.

- Children Who Chase Lost Voices from Deep Below (Jpn) - Though I am still unconvinced of Shinkai's ability to become 'The Next Miyazaki' after seeing this film, it is clear that he has a considerable talent, honed since his one-man epic Voices of a Distant Star. It loses some ground with a bit of well-trodden storyline and some weak dialogue at the beginning, but it is undeniably beautiful and enough to have me hungry for his next work.

Best Documentary - Gnarr - (Ice)

There were a lot of brilliant documentaries on all sorts of subjects this year, and with a lot of thought I gave it to Gnarr, but most of the ones below could easily be swapped in. Jon Gnarr's rise from satirical comedian to mayor of Iceland is hilarious, jaw-dropping and ultimately joyful. So much politics these days depresses the hell out of me. If it does the same to you, watch this film. You will be so happy by the end of it.

Honourable Mentions:

- Bobby Fischer Against the World (UK/US/Icl)
Shown recently on BBC4, this documentary about the chess legend had me enthralled, despite the fact I had no interest in chess whatsoever. Bobby Fischer was a complicated soul with much going for him, but also a destructive personality which eventually made him a stranger in his own land. This masterful look back over his life caught me completely by surprise and turned out to be one of my favourite films at Bradford this year.

- Killing Kasztner (US)
Kasztner helped 1600 Jews escape the clutches of the Nazis in World War Two, but he did it by negotiating with them. For many people at the time, this was unacceptable, and some years after Kasztner was murdered in cold blood. Told with the help of his surviving daughter who bravely meets with his murderer many decades later, this powerful and mesmerising film sheds light on a relative unknown from the age.

- Jane's Journey (Ger)
Jane Goodalls life work is told with the the help of Jane and her toy monkey, and her friends, acquaintances and family in a genuinely warm account of an elderly but still very active woman who has performed much good in the world.

- Senna (UK/Fra/US)
Though F1 nuts will get the most from this film of the life of perhaps the most charismatic driver of the sport for the last half century, this brilliant character study is an enthralling account of the man, and the political wranglings that went on in the sport at the time, and continues to do so now. It gave me a fresh perspective on the man.

- I Am Jesus (Ita)
Quietly able to drop jaws at the sheer lunacy of the belief being exhibited here, fake Jesii (many of whom basically get a free lunch and everything done for them) are dotted all over the globe, wherever they can find someone to believe in them. But this film chooses not to take the easy path of lampooning them; instead the cameras silently capture the human side to these people's existence, and though they are clearly barmy, they are also happy with where they have fallen.

- Disfarmer: A Portrait of America (Can)
An unusual though welcome biopic of Mike Disfarmer, an atheist photographer who found himself in the heart of bible belt America in the early 20th Century. Using the slow-exposure cameras of the age, he captured the expressions of the bewildered, the impatient and the impassive people who sat for an age as motionless as they could. The Disfarmer portraits had their own look and personality, and after a while descendant families learned that they might have a Disfarmer treasure trove in their lofts, with collectors paying good money for a print.

- Happy People: A Year in the Taiga (Ger)
The better of the two Herzog documentaries for this year (the other being Cave of Lost Dreams), the Taiga people were followed intimately through the seasons as they deal with the harsh Russian snow and ice.

- Mama Africa (Ger/SA/Fin)
I can't find reference to this elsewhere on the internets, but it does exist I assure you. Mama Africa is the pet name of Miriam Makeba, who became an icon for anti-apartheid uprisings in the fifties and sixties, which earned her exile from her country. A singer and songwriter as well as an activist, she helped popularise the South African style of music around the world.

- Shut Up Little Man! (Australia)
A comical and ultimately touching review of the cult craze that swept through America on audio cassette in the late eighties, the unplanned result of a couple of semi-stoned twentysomethings who rent a flat next to a pair of squabbling old men. Their recorded conversations show a genuine love for each other, wrapped in copious swearing and insults, and the second half of the film follows the now middle-aged men as they try and contact the unwitting stars, if they are even still around.

- Outside the Law: Stories from Guantanamo Bay (UK)
The repeated flouting of the rules and guidelines laid down by the Geneva Convention and the Nuremburg Principals at Guantanamo Bay are revealed here. Things you might expect from war-torn, unethical countries such as DRC are found to be going on at the hands of the US and the UK. The shoestring budget is taken up entirely packing the film full of information, but concentrates on the cases of four men on the receiving end of western justice. Shocking and enlightening.

- The World According to Ion B. (Rom)
Ion B. is a nondescript-looking tramp living on the streets of Romania, whose life on a mattress in a kindly woman's back yard is discovered by a young filmmaker. An artist of sorts, who uses magazine cut-outs to create satirical collages, often of Ceausescu, whose regime derailed him from his businessman career and into the streets. This uplifting film profiles the man just as his work is being discovered.

- Amos Vogel and Cinema 16 (US)
The subversive underground movement of Cinema 16, a film-enthusiast's attempt to bring to the fore strange, controversial and ignored titles from all walks of life and on all subjects, intended to give his audience food for thought whether they liked the lineup or not. This film struck a chord with me, a kindred spirit trying to highlight those many celluloid expressions that would otherwise never be seen by the masses.

Enjoy The Journey Award - Symbol (Jpn)

A man wakes up in a high-walled room in daft pyjamas. Switches of a dubious nature appear on the wall, and when he presses them strange, random things happen. We are right in there with him, and the journey is joyously unpredictable and strange.

Honourable Mentions:

- Karate-Robo Zaborgar (Jpn)
When the film is all about Power Rangers-style fighting and adolescent boob and crotch shots, you can only sit there and stare slack-jawed at the latest attempt by Japan to be as outlandishly odd as possible. Even with your hardest grumpyface expression on, you will find it hard not to crack a smile on the final showdown on a pair of giant metal breasts.

- Modern No 2 (Jpn)
There is little else to do with Modern No 2, but watch as the hypnotic morphing shapes move with the bouncy, happy music.

- Las Acacias (Arg/Spa)
The viewer is taken on a quiet and gentle journey with a lonely truck driver and an illegal immigrant and her newborn daughter across spain as they slowly begin to warm to each other, thanks mainly to the adorable child who finally melts Rubens heart as well as those of the audience.

- The Lost Town of Switez (Pol)
An allegorical journey for a confused man in this short computer animation leaves the viewer with many questions about what they just saw.

- Journey to Cape Verde (Por)
Another short animated film, retracing the journey that will shape a young mans life as he decides to up sticks and see the world outside his home city. Full of the wonderment of experiencing the new and unusual, and the kindness of strangers along the way.

- The River Used to be a Man (Ger)
Though a little long, this film does get a nod as it (in a similar style to Journey to Cape Verde) takes the viewer on a journey with the main lead, as he tries to return to civilisation after becoming lost and alone when his guide through the African outback dies overnight.

- Le Quattro Volte (It/Ger/Swe)
The four times refer to four lives that become loosely connected as we pass through a thread of existence. Dialogue is missing completely, and the film stands on it's quiet meditation of life as it goes by. A beautiful tale of life and death.

After the Credits Roll - Snowtown (Aus)

The events of Snowtown's horrific dealings with the likes of John Bunting and his sadistic sidekicks will stay with you long after the film is over. A terror-filled film, with powerful imagery and a building, sickening violent streak. The quietly evil expression worn by actor Daniel Henshall will stay with you for a long time too.

Honourable Mentions:

- As If I Am Not There (Irl/Mac/Swe)
By the time that we have followed Samira on her journey through hell we have enough perspective on our relatively danger-free lives to re-evaluate them completely.

- Symbol (Jpn)
I still have no idea why, but Symbol stayed with me on the train ride home in the form of a big, stupid smile on my face. It took a full day to leave.

- Bellflower (US)
The construction of the first half of this film was ultimately undone in the second, and it was the feeling of emptiness that Bellflower gave as it turned from light-hearted teen romance to dystopian nightmare meant that it could not quickly be forgotten.

- Grave of the Fireflies (Jpn)
Anyone who sees this film to it's end (which is a feat in itself) will not forget it in a hurry.

Emotional Kick - As If I Am Not There (Irl/Mac/Swe)

Samira's sheltered life is completely replaced with one of hellish torture, rape and the constant threat of a horrible death at the hands of strange men occupying the village she has recently moved to and called home. As she emotionally detaches from the situation, the audience fills the void.

Honourable Mentions:

- Tyrannosaur (UK)
Though you will feel for the predicament of Joseph, it is Olivia Colemans' powerful performance as the initially kind and unassuming Hannah that will really get to you. There is a beauty in the depths of the sadness in the film and it's this that lifts it up as one of my favourites of the year.

- My Magic (Sng)
Singapore is not known for its films, even in festivals, so it is nice to see one that is both very good and has a powerful emotional angle to it. The story of the ever optimistic Raju as he cares for his alcoholic father, whose only way of paying for his son to go to school is through often painful magic tricks, builds to a powerfully emotional ending.

- Together/Tillsammans (Swe/Den/Ita)
The fragile family unit grabs hold of the hearts of the audience as one, as it falters and tries to keep standing when new capitalist members infultrate the hippy commune already balanced on a knife edge. The ending is a satisfyingly emotional release of relief.

- Tackling Judgement (UK)
A young PTSD and depression sufferer uses YouTube as a sounding board to explain about how she is learning as she grows to cope with the disorder. Some of her accounts of the harder days are quite moving.

- Take Shelter (US)
What is for the most part an indie American flick with good scripting and a decent storyline, becomes deeper and more emotional in it's last few minutes, as Curtis's mental state leaves him powerless to stop himself from barricading his family in his new storm shelter. Only then do we realise just the extent to the emotional damage this man is feeling.

- The Fatherless (Austria)
Another film about a family coming to terms with itself after a long period apart, but The Fatherless has a much stronger emotional thread running through it than previous festival films. the complex intertwining of lives was familiar but well done and carried with it the ability to shock and generate genuine empathy for the broken lives.

- Grave of the Fireflies (Jpn)
Again, if you don't cry during 'Theres no place like home', then you are clinically dead.

- Jane's Journey (Ger)
Jane Goodall has done so much in her life, and this film highlights both her work and her terrifically down to earth nature. Her life story will grab you as it has with the people she has worked with.

- Seesaw (Jpn)
This entire film basically takes an hour to run up to the audience and hit them with an emotion bomb just as we are getting used to this promising young family.

- Silent Things (UK)
Even though the young girl who comes between the delicate Jake and Amy has no bad intentions, we feel wrenched at the idea of this couple who we have just met being damaged by her actions.

- When We Leave (Ger)
A film to perfectly highlight the dangers of deeply ingrained religious dogma, masquerading as tradition, in the generations of a family. Umay and her young son are trying to leave her abusive husband, fleeing Istanbul for Germany, but fathers and brothers turn against her for fear of dishonour on the family, leaving Umay to take desperate action to get away.

- Killing Kasztner (US)
Kasztner's tragic story is lived and relived through the collected stories of the film, some by his only daughter Zsuzsi who bears much of the emotional baggage left by the events of the last century. A meeting with his killer at the end of the film is powerfully charged with all sorts of raw emotions that the audience feels almost as strongly.

Twist Award - The Other Side of Sleep (Irl/Ned/Hun)

Arlene's mental state is thoroughly explored as she attempts to make sense of the previous night; waking up next to a dead body in a forest. As her behaviour becomes more erratic trying to keep her life together, the viewer is kept completely in the dark about the outcome, which is unpredictable but satisfying.

Honourable Mentions:

- Sennentuntschi: Curse of the Alps (Swi)
Although this film was a little patchy, it did have the unpredictable quality to it that made the mystery of the strange feral girl and her origins keeping the audience guessing about the truth until the very end. A very clever twist to make you re-evaluate everything you just saw comes at you right at the end.

- Seesaw (Jpn)
There is no way you would expect the bombshell to fall where and how it did in this film of a young and promising couple.

- Wake Wood (Irl/UK)
Hammer Horror films are making a comeback, and Wake Wood is the first out there. A more serious take on films such as Hot Fuzz and Rocky Horror, the gentle village of the title holds dark, poweful secrets that might just get Patrick and Louises' daughter back from the dead, but not without it's price. And that's when things start getting seriously twisty.

- Symbol (Jpn)
Symbol is refreshingly unpredictable throughout, but the final sequences and their ultimate connection to the real world puts the final, big twist on the viewer.

Cleverest Film - 22nd of May (Bel)

The quiet life of a shopping mall security guard goes mental when a bomb blast rips the place apart. What could have been a weird experimental film turns out to be a really well-thought and accomplished work, being just mysterious enough to keep people from being 100% sure they have a grip on what they are seeing. It's a fine balance and 22nd of May is one of the rare films that manages it.

Honourable Mentions:

- Forest (Hun)
It stopped short of the list, but Forest was clever in it's initial scene of a crowded shopping mall, and then coming to know each person within in the coming scenes, the brief moment in the mall itself being the only connection between the many characters.

- Involuntary (Swe)
In a similar flavour to Forest, Involuntary took several unconnected situations and followed them, round-robin style as they explored the notion of one person's involuntary participation at the behest of others.

- We Have a Pope (Ita)
Either they used some very elaborate sets, or they got some seriously privileged permission from the vatican to film on location, the surreal story of the ordination of a new, and as it turns out, reluctant pope who legs it. A mixture of the gloriously absurd and the quietly meditative come together in a cleverly thought out film.

- The Visit (Sir)
The little twist at the end of this short film made everything you saw until that point completely change it's meaning. Alongside that, the film turned from sombre to comic in a heartbeat.

- Blooded (UK)
Low-budget films must have a clever angle, and Blooded's was about hunting humans as we do other animals. Four young adults wake in their underwear in a field after a party, and are soon finding themselves being shot at. Wobbly hand-held cameras mean the viewer is in the thick of it with as much clue to the fate of these people as they have.

- Missed (UK)
An emotionally charged short film about making the most of now. A man learns of the death of a colleague he secretly loved.

Biggest Laugh - Hobo With a Shotgun (US/Can)

The Grindhouse-inspired feature length film that does exactly what it says is thoroughly ridiculous and hilarious with it. Don't expect more than that and you'll love it.

Honourable Mentions:

- Karate-Robo Zaborgar (Jpn)
Sit back and enjoy the craziness of the latest attempt by Japan to show that they are the most stylistically insane people on the planet. The humour is juvenile, gross and slapstick. And funny.

- We Have a Pope (Ita)
Of the many funny scenes in this film, the Father Ted-style volleyball tournament between the bishops (arranged by an atheist psychologist!) is by far the most absurdly brilliant of the lot, and is well worth the ticket.

- Inbred (UK)
A horror film by Yorkshiremen, for Yorkshiremen. Plenty of humour of the dumb backwater Yorkshireman style - if that sort of thing appeals to you - as the members of the young teens group got slowly off-ed in a variety of gruesomely funny ways.

- Love Child (Swe)
A quick nod to Love Child, which in its' final short seconds managed to befuddle and amuse the audience greatly.

A Thousand Words - Disfarmer: A Portrait of America (US)

There is something eerie about the hundreds of pictures of people, in various states of impatience coming together as a family or a group of friends, and having their image forever committed to a cell, and eventually becoming the focus of an improbable art movement.

Honourable Mentions:

- The Extraordinary Adventures of Adele Blanc-Sec (Fra)
The Indy-lite French offering had a serious crisis of original ideas, but it sure was beautiful, even if much of it had been brought to it's colourful life by the use of computers.

- Aita (Spa)
This very slow moving film permitted the viewer to see the gradual restoration of both the beautiful old house and the life of the old man residing within.

- Essential Killing (Pol/Nor/Irl/Hun)
Light on dialogue films must rely instead on visuals, and Essential Killing took us through the harsh beauty of the Afghanistan countryside, taking in the more familiar sand and scrubland as well as more unexpected snowy wastes.

- Killing Kasztner (US)
Though the film was heavy with information, it could also be appreciated for it's evocation of the mood and conditions of the Second World War, using photos and film to recreate the desperate situation Kasztner went to every length to save people from.

Best Indie to Show Your Friends - Stake Land (US)

Stake Land just about won out. Even for those who hate zombie films, this has a depth to it that most of these films do not include. Played straight rather than for teenage kicks, it has a good balance of social commentary, black humour, building empathy with the characters, and of course a good chunk of violence, although most of what you actually see is the aftermath, leaving your imagination to sort the rest out. It covers a lot of bases and most people will find something they like in it.

Honourable Mentions: (subtitled films have a *)

For friends who prefer Action films, I would say Point Blank* (Fra), The Borrower Arrietty (Jpn)

Or good choices for romance/relationship films would include Take Shelter (US), Shame (UK), Submarine (UK) or Together (Swe/Den/Ita)

If you want to give them a shock, choose Hobo With a Shotgun (US/Can), Snowtown (Australia), Bellflower (US), Tyrannosaur (UK) or As If I Am Not There* (Irl/Mac/Swe).

Good documentaries would include the brilliant Gnarr* (Ice), Jane's Journey (Ger), Senna (UK/Fra/US) or Shut Up, Little Man! (US)

Or if you just something to change their expectations of what a film can show them, go for Sound of Noise* (Swe), The Artist (Fra) or 22nd of May* (Bel)

The Manky Sankey Awards

Mankeys are the films that, in my humble opinionation, are best avoided, because they frustrated, angered, confused, wasted my time, or rendered me comatose.

Biggest Let Down - Wuthering Heights (UK)

I had dusted off an old copy of the novel and worked my way through it to try and get ready for the opening film of the Leeds festival. While the book is a beautiful and engaging tale of enduring love and revenge, the film deals only with the first half of the book, cuts out a major character (effectively the reader/viewer) and replaces the carefully constructed dialogue with by-eck Yorkshire-isms and copious swearing. For someone who had not read the book beforehand I would also suspect it wouldn't have been very easy to work out what was going on either. A bad miss.

Dishonourable Mentions:

- Children Who Chase Lost Voices from Deep Below (Jpn)
Far from terrible, but I was told that Makoto Shinkai was the next prodigal to fill Miyazaki's boots, but judging by this film - the first of his I have seen - he's got a bit to go yet.

- Red Psalm (Hun)
I was hoping that a 70's musical with massive long takes about the oppression of a small village by an invading force may have a similar gravitas to As If I Am Not There, and wouldn't have to resort to, say, casual nudity in order to keep people's attention. It didn't, and it did.

- Let the Bullets Fly (Chn/HK)
The dishonest trailer didn't help it's cause, but the big budget blood-fest-that-wasn't was bogged down in politics, hammy acting and a dearth of action. I had a headache afterwards.

Most Pretentious - Sailor (Pol)

I can sort of see where the director of Sailor was coming from; the frustrated musings of a lecturer via the only medium he knows how - that of repeated graphs and charts, theories and models in a film that was more of a powerpoint presentation than anything else. With subtitles, and often without any visuals.

Dishonourable Mentions:

- Red Psalm (Hun)
Interpretive dance is pretentious almost by definition. If you want to tell us something, say it, film it or draw it. Don't prance about like a ponce. And don't do it en masse in a field with an annoying git with a guitar strumming constantly, who seems somehow not one of those who is killed.

- Stranger Than Paradise (US/Ger)
Director Jim Jarmusch also did Broken Flowers, which I felt was also a bit meandering and too expectant of the audience to do the work that the film should be doing. This earlier film noir wastes it's time on a couple of badly cast dropouts, moping around a scruffy flat, and then going for a ride with another dropout, where not an awful lot happens. It was one of those films just competent enough to sit between 'ugh' and 'meh' in someone's list of their favourite films.

- The Last Days of Edgar Harding (UK)
Not a bad film when taken as a whole, but the fashionista underpinnings of the wholly uninspiring but apparently popular band, and the need to suspend your disbelief that these people were actually successful at what they did made it feel terribly false and difficult to swallow. Some of the dialogue was pretty cheesy/creaky as well.

- A Night for Dying Tigers (Can)
Gil Bellows lends his finite talents to his lead role as the head of a dysfunctional family in a dysfunctional family film about a dysfunctional family trying to make itself more functional as a family. There have been plenty of other choices (as noted in the various reviews) which are better, and this one felt overworked with a pretentious title that bore little relation to the content of the film.

Most Drawn Out Scene - Sailor (Pol)

As we watched the powerpoint presentation, several scenes left us with line after line of subtitled dialogue at the bottom of a completely black screen. Not the best of ideas.

Dishonourable Mentions:

- Endeavour (Austria)
An honourable enough film about the space shuttle, a paean to the closing of an era in the space race. Four views of the rocket lifting off and reaching outer space sounds good, if you could see them in a split-screen way, but this was just a mishmash of each of them on a round-robin cycle which made me queasy and annoyed.

- Inbred (UK)
Though the film had much going for it, the intro annoyed me. Peaceful long-shot country scenes are all well and good when you are out for a stroll, but not when reading the list of who did what waiting for the damn film to start.

- The Quick Brown Fox Jumps Over The Lazy Dog (Austria)
Imagine a film which is just 3 minutes of random cells of other films; a barrage of sound and light hitting your retinas with nothing at all to do other than sit there and try to recognise the occasional scene as it flashes by.

- Summer of Goliath (Mex/Can)
How long does it take for a mother to explain to her son what she wants him to say to a friend? Ten minutes, or thereabouts. Ten terrible, dragging minutes, as she checks through the letter again, and again. And again.

Most Annoying Film - Summer of Goliath (Mex/Can)

A deeply odd film that seems to conclude that mexican women are mad. Not just hormonal mad but out and out batshit. We also have some unpleasant soldiers and an old woman selling merchandise on the street. Things happen but rarely are connected. Then it ends and we are free.

Dishonourable Mentions:

- Sailor (Pol)
Again, you do not endear your audience by bathing them in darkness for long periods and being generally annoying in what you say.

- A History of Mutual Respect (Por)
The (admittedly deliberately provocative) attitudes of the two male leads made my blood boil with this film, a couple of idiots completely unaware of the connection between their actions and the misery they cast on both the people they meet and themselves.

- The Red Machine (US)
The lazy scope and decision to rehash every plotline ever made this film so painfully average as to leave me with no impression at all other than that the clock hands had moved forward by a couple of hours.

===========================================

So with 2011 over, there should be a short break until the reachable festivals begin once more. Bradford usually starts in late March, and then it all begins anew.

A Short Occupy Post

2011-11-24T13:14:00.000Z

The Occupy movement has not gone unnoticed. People around the world have sacrificed so much to stand up and protest. Since October, Rich people have moaned, students have been assaulted by police and thousands have gathered in tents in the freezing night air to show their support, wary that their health or life could be in danger, often due to attacks by their so-called 'public servants' for standing up for what is right, when others have become bored of the rage du jour, and have moved onto other frivolous or disturbing subjects.

For such a massive effort co-ordinated by social media, it's remarkable that so little of it has spilled into violence or crime, and it shames those of the August riots who claimed to be working to the same ends.

And shame on those who walked past the scruffy piles of tents and told the inhabitants to 'get a job' or similar. Your passive ignorance of the gravity of the situation, and the symbolism of the protests will help ensure the continuation of the problem for years to come.

Leeds Film Festival 2011: Day 18

2011-11-20T20:03:00.005Z

The Artist (Fra) (site)

This film will almost certainly not work in the modern cinema. Exactly why was demonstrated today when, halfway through this UK première screening of the first silent film to be made for eighty years or more, some insensitive clod in the audience pulled out the most massive and noisy bag of crisps and started crinkling and crunching. In an era when idiot dropout teens chew gum and chat to their idiot friends sat an aisle across from them whilst in the fricking theatre, and fatty, snacky, noisy treats are for sale and make up a considerable part of the revenue for a cinema, silent films just do not fit.

And that's a damnable shame, because The Artist is getting all sorts of attention at the moment; part of it is the novelty of a major new silent film, but also because it is damn good too. If you didn't recognise John Goodman or a fleeting Malcolm McDowell you could quite easily be fooled into thinking you were watching a digitally restored print of an ancient film. The aspect ratio is the old 4:3 format, the credits appear on static cards and are accompanied at the start by a mono-sounding orchestra, and when characters speak, only choice phrases are turned into the intertitles, the written substitute for dialogue of the era. There are also more subtle methods used to really bring in the spirit of the age, such as soft focus, restricted camera freedom (basic track and pan shots, but mostly a static mount) and old-fashioned fade-outs and ins. For all it's attempt to look basic and 'primitive' - for want of a better word - we get a beautifully-realised facsimile of a golden era where the work that has gone into it gives it beauty.

Even the story evokes a previous age of film. Taking place just as silent films are being replaced by 'talkies', distinguished, suave (and slightly slimy) actor George Valantin - a typical slicked back actor of the age with a bounder's pencil moustache and an eye for the ladies, has a successful silent film career but a less than perfect relationship with his silently seething wife. A chance meeting with Peppy, a beautiful young woman (the mesmerising Bérénice Bejo) at a red carpet reception doesn't help, and her opportunistic kiss on his cheek propels her to the front cover of the days news, and eventual stardom as an accomplished actress. At the same time George's film company ditches the comfortable silent film and starts on the talkies, but George cannot make the leap, and as Peppy's fame skyrockets, George ends up losing it all.

You have a beautiful woman, an older man on the edge of his career (echoing the themes of Limelight), you have romance and scandal, success and failure, comedy and tragedy, a talented canine (the adorable Uggy won the Palm Dog this year) and a cracking dance number worthy of Rogers and Astaire at the end. When the credit's rolled, the film received the loudest and most sustained round of applause I had witnessed at any festival; it felt a little like this film had an indefinable something that eighty years of talkies had somehow lost, and for a single film at least, we had witnessed it's return. I loved it, and provided you can catch it when there isn't an inconsiderate fool with a bag of crisps in there with you at the same time, you will too. A great film to end the festival with. 8.5/10

PS: Even though it's a French film, it's all in English, so don't worry about bringing someone along who turns their nose up at subtitles.

Leeds Film Festival 2011: Day 17

2011-11-19T20:28:00.007Z

Children Who Chase Lost Voices From Deep Below (Jpn) (site)

Unusually, despite my penchant for big budget, beautiful animé, I had somehow yet to watch any Makoto Shinkai film, so I have been looking forward to this all through the festival.

Asuna is a young girl in a rural Japanese village. Her mother is often away working as a night nurse, leaving her to pick up the slack at home. Her father died some time ago. Her little hidey hole where she goes for a bit of solitude, at the top of a nearby hill overlooks a forest and she spends much of her time there in peace, until a strange, bear-like creature attacks her on the way. She is only saved by a mysterious boy, Shun, who seems to leave shortly afterwards, but not before some shadowy agent types begin to snoop around, following rumours that the beast was guarding an entrance to some underground world.

Children Who Chase Lost voices (he has a habit of giving his films long names) is the latest from an artist who raised some eyebrows with his almost entirely one-man produced Voices From a Distant Star a decade ago, and has since come to be thought of in some circles as the next Miyazaki.

Perhaps this comparison has reached his own ears, because the film is VERY much in the style of several Ghibli films. Shun is a dead ringer from Arren from Tales of Earthsea, and the beautiful underground world inhabited by tall humanoid beasts and strange night spectres raises comparisons with Laputa and Mononoke especially, and Mimi the little cat that befriends Asuna is a dead ringer for Nausicaa's Teto. This would be okay, if a little cheap if it didn't feel like a direct lift of some of the themes, and in a very clinical way. There doesn't feel to be much heart underneath the undeniable beauty of the animation, with it's gorgeous starry skies and sunsets, and the usual pillow shots of incidental wildlife. Only half-way in does it start to feel anything other than melodramatic, and even then I didn't care so much about the characters to really identify with the perceived messages of love and loss.

I did enjoy the film as a whole, and while there is no doubt that Makoto Shinkai is a major talent in the animé field, and he has certainly managed to get the visuals sorted out, he still has a long way to go before the story underneath can hit the sort of levels achieved by his inspiration. 7/10

We Have a Pope (Ita) (wiki)

I had the good fortune to see this, as it had been given a second run due to it's popular reception. Habemus Papam is the exclamation traditionally given when a new pope is elected. As the streets of Rome fall silent and the masses gather to see the black smoke turn white, a decision is being made among the cardinals deep in the recesses of the Vatican on who should have the 'honour' - something that none of them actually want. When a late surge of votes comes in to relative unknown Cardinal Melville, he agrees to changing one silly uniform for another, if only out of shock. As it dawns on him of the weight of the situation, panic ensues, though fortunately out of the public gaze and before he is named.

Bringing in a psychologist (whose hands are tied - he can't ask the pope about anything near the subject of sex!) gets nowhere, so while he is locked in for security's sake, Melville is driven out to the next best psychoanalyst in town - and promptly disappears at the earliest opportunity.

Making a farce out of one of the most important Catholic events certainly takes some guts, and director Nanni Moretti gently but decisively pokes fun of the ridiculous traditions of the church and the repressed lives of those of the cloth, who are often portrayed as helpless babies having their strings pulled by the slimy advisor, Radjski. As well as the satirical humour, this film has some truly surreal moments, not just limited to having a future pope wandering around the streets and chatting with the locals. One particularly glorious scene involves the trapped psychiatrist and a few dozen cardinals, trying to fill time before the pope will 'leave his room' by hosting an international volleyball tournament. It felt like Father Ted all over again.

The film did dip slightly towards the end, but in all it was a funny, gentle dig at the absurdities of the religion rather than the people. 7.5/10

Leeds Film Festival 2011: Day 16

2011-11-18T23:29:00.002Z

Into the Forest of Fireflies (Jpn) (site)

I was due to see the Ken Loach TV film Family Life, but a mixture of not being able to get out of work early enough, and a general feeling that I wasn't in the mood for something stodgy in the minutes after getting out of the door made me switch to this last minute addition.

Fireflies is a gentle short film (about 45 minutes) based on a manga about a young girl named Hotaru (firefly) who becomes lost in a large and confusing forest and can't find her way out. She is saved by Gin, a mysterious young man in a keaton mask who guides her out, but cannot be touched. He is one of the many Yokai of the woods, cursed by the forest god and if he is touched by a human, he will disappear.

Returning the next day with a thank-you gift, they begin a friendship that passes through the years. They only meet in summertime as that is when Hotaru is at her nearby grandparents.

The animation quality is that of a lower-budget anime, some choppy framerates create jerky movements and there are a few liberties taken (like Gin's mask so we don't see him speak) to lower the cell count and thus the cost. Most of the film's beauty (and it is a beautiful film) is in the gently swaying piano music, and in the watercolour backgrounds; mostly starry skies and ancient sun-dappled forests. Story-wise, it is light and airy, it's not going to invoke tears of joy or sadness in many people as I suspect the director might be hoping for, but it is a pleasant tale that made the residual thoughts of a working day fall behind. 7/10

Grant Morrison: Talking With Gods (UK) (site)

Grant Morrison is a Scottish writer and one-time band member. His parents were both anti-nuclear activists and they encouraged him to lose himself in comics and graphic novels. His early life was quite solitary and insular, and he found pleasure in creating some comics in his teens, slowly gaining notoriety as an artist well before his years. As he got older and was given bigger projects (including writing works for some of the most iconic characters such as Superman and Batman) he teamed up with more established artists, and became a writer, providing the scripts (and some sketches) that the artist would then flesh out to the finished product.

This documentary, in a rather sequential art sort of way, proceeds through his life with Morrison providing most of the commentary (so much in fact - he just doesn't shut up!) about his works and how they coincided to major events in his life. Darker periods such as with family bereavements or the aftermath of 9/11, would translate into much more moody works, such as The Filth; in happier times where he would go on some more spiritual journeys both inside the mind (thanks to some light drug taking) and out, as he travelled the world and his perceived understanding of the world (not to mention some trippy Jesus hallucinations) changed his worldview, and the fate of the characters in his works, accordingly.

Not being much into comics (not a dislike as such or a conscious decision, I just never got round to it) some of the idol-worship laid upon him by his contemporaries, mixed with the 'deep understanding meditation' visuals (which I couldn't tell whether they were tongue in cheek or not) felt a little pretentious. And his trippy spiritual revelations which he seems to believe are a bit batshit. But I guess it's the mix of these things and the man himself which generates the enormous amount of creative output from the man, and the film did make me interested enough to look into trying a few issues of his work, like maybe The Invisibles six year epic, or the satirical Doom Patrol. 7/10

Shame (UK) (wiki/site)

A second directorial film from Steve McQueen (not him, another one) after Hunger debuted a couple of years back. The title encompasses the feelings that most people would have if they inhabited either of the lives of the two main parts. Brandon, played by a very open-minded Michael Fassbender is a somewhat oversexed man. His laptop is crippled with a thousand viruses from the porn sites he can't keep away from, and he just can't seem to leave the real-life ladies alone either. It's just as well that he has that certain something about him that keeps them heading towards his trousers. But his mysterious, distant attitude isn't just for show; he can't seem to get a connection going with anyone, and it's getting to him.

His detached inability to care extends to his little sister Sissy (Carey Mulligan), who is in need of a place to stay, and when her repeated calls are ignored, she breaks in and invades his life - which for a man with a flatful of booby mags and dirty, dirty hard drives, is going to lead to some uncomfortable confrontations. Sissy is the polar opposite of her brother; a beautiful cabaret singer, but clingy and emotional, constantly looking for love and never quite finding it, and she needs her brother's support as she is at her wits end.

Shame is carried along by an awful lot of nudeyness, and both sexes are well catered for, but I never once felt remotely aroused by what I saw; this is not pleasurable sex being portrayed here. They are the uncomfortable, unfulfilled and ugly acts to satisfy purely the base needs and desires of a broken and confused man. Sex is not the point here, but love and the need to be loved, about the importance of distinguishing from the other. It is an intimate and slow-paced look into Brandon and Sissy's life at a tipping point; the contrasting scenes of throwaway sex and beautiful musical numbers, (Mulligan's rendition of New York, New York is sublime) the orchestral scores and primal grunting makes for intriguing and occasionally compelling viewing, and the second half of the film ramps up both the emotion and the gratuity, working to a conclusion that in hindsight, like Brandon, you could have easily seen coming. It's candid, explicit, often shocking and sometimes beautiful. 7.5/10

Leeds Film Festival 2011: Day 15

2011-11-17T23:48:00.003Z

Sound of Noise (Swe) (wiki)

Unfortunately due to some less than stellar scheduling, this film moved forward by a quarter hour, and the next one back by just as much in the time between me working out what I was going to watch, and the tickets being issued. I don't get why they stagger the films like this anyway.

Anyway, I won't score it but I will briefly touch on my impressions of the first hour. It looked intriguing, to be blunt. The trailer which ran on the opening day made the film look completely art-house; which was an inaccurate view, and a cohesive (if unusual) narrative was quickly built up. Magnus and Sanna are musicians, frustrated at the cheesy calming musak pumped through speakers everywhere around their city and are fighting back. Magnus has penned his opus, 'Music for one city and six drummers', and they intend to go through with it, conducting a surreal and not remotely legal music event using whatever they find in the city as percussion.

So yes, a musical terrorist movie. It felt subversive, sharp and a bit edgy, and what with the Occupy Wall Street goings on going on it seems to be the movie for the moment (and come to think of it, a theme among the films this year). If possible, I'll catch the rest of it sometime.

Satellite Bolinha (Bra) - A very rough around the edges little film from Brazil before Scrapper came on, highlighting the almost impossible of ordinary people putting together ham radio-style kits with odds and ends that hijack the bandwidth of those satellites orbiting the earth, that the engineers didn't bother to install with any security features, thus creating a sort of global CB radio network. These became known as the 'little ball' satellites, or Bolinhas. Obviously the authorities aren't usually happy, so the next logical step is to get a home-made satellite into space, and a surprising number actually manage it. A scrappy documentary on a potentially fascinating subject. 7/10

Scrapper (USA) (site)

Out in the south Californian scrub land is a range called the 'chocolate mountains', these unfortunate hills and valleys are the targets for the US army and navy who fly over in just about every flying fortress you can think of, and lob bombs onto abandoned tanks and jeeps day and night. This is the lair of the Scrappers, a bunch of scavengers with a death wish.

They fight amongst themselves for territory, they run the risk of bumping into drug pushers who use the range as a drug running route, they happily skip around on old bombs partially hidden by the dirt from the latest barrage, and they risk being in the wrong place at the wrong time if a passing helicopter gunship pilot fancies a bit of target practice.

But the rewards are high. Dud bombs can be dismantled for aluminium, shell casings for brass. In the period the film-maker was privileged enough to spend with some of the (competing) scrappers - the Bush era from about 2002 to 2007 - the price of these metals rocketed as they were made scarcer by their moulding into yet more bombs and shell casings to go to Iraq and Afghanistan. A scrapper on a good day can take home a truckfull of parts, process them back at their homes and take them to the scrap yard who will pay a good price and melt them down, no questions asked. These good ol' American weapons often become parts in Chinese electronics, which in turn are sold back to the west.

It was fascinating to see the more human sides of these people, and go with them foraging and see what risks they take every day - though you were acutely aware that these are the same people who would without thought firebomb and maybe kill any trespasser trying to forage on their patch. Suitably, it featured excerpts from Bush's war-related speeches on the subject now and again in the background, contrasting what he said about freedom and prosperity for all with what was happening on screen. For those who don't speak redneck, thankfully most of it was subtitled (it really all needed to be). It's only real failing was that it felt a little dry and roughly put together (which befitted the theme I suppose) but the conclusion and wrapup of these people and their ongoing lives was tatty and the credits rolled without warning. 7/10

The Substance: Albert Hoffmanns LSD (Swi/Ger) (site)

An analysis of the drug that was found by chance in 1948 while researching the circulation of blood around the body. LSD can come from a number of forms, such as he Mexican magic mushrooms, or an extract of the ergot mould which grows on rye, and being the experimental type, Hoffmann tried it himself. His hellish, nightmare experience with only a diluted dose convinced him the substance was going to be powerful in the psychological field and required further research.

In the fifties, it became a popular experimental tool on human behaviour and research into the brain, but as time passed it was also being noticed by the artists and creative crowds, who saw the mind-expanding nature of the drug as a way of magnifying their consciousness and therefore their abilities. For a while in the sixties casual street use - especially in the suburbs of San Francisco where it was first discovered - was tolerated by the law, but as the conservative groups expressed concern and outrage about it's effects, and the results of the 'bad trip' came to the fore, it was made illegal in the late sixties, retreating back to the exclusive hands of a few privileged research institutes.

The Substance, considering it's subject matter felt a bit starchy, even when we reach the psychedelic, trippy hippy era there feels to be a restraint to it, as though they were cautioned to ensure that the film didn't basically become an advert from the drug. This stopped my enjoyment a little, but it remains an informative, funny and surprising study of the drug and some of the major players involved in it's dissemination to the public sphere. 7/10

Leeds Film Festival 2011: Day 14

2011-11-16T23:35:00.005Z

Gnarr (Ice) (site)

Do you find politics stuffy and boring? Filled with the dull, grey and corrupt types with a willingness to kowtow for a bit of a backhander? Then you need to watch this joyous film.

Jon Gnarr is a long-standing Icelandic comedian, and when the economic crash of 2008 hit Iceland especially hard, he decided to do something about it. He set up a party to run for the position of Mayor in the capital city, Reykjavik. Not a political party, because this is what he was against most of all, a boring, grey stuffy pile of suits that changed little and just seemed to get older and disappoint. Not unlike politicians and parties the world over. He wanted to destroy the system and so The Best Party was born.

The party began as a joke, an extension of one of his routines, but when he went out with a few of his like-minded (but politically naive) friends and canvassed, the people began to respond. Their initial goals were small: grab a few seats from the Progressive Party, one of the more extreme ends of the political spectrum who pick up fringe votes. But they defied the low expectations of their opponents who only knew how to talk dryly about budgets and sound off a few campaign promises. At each interview, each debate, Gnarr and his party just would not play the game. They gave campaign 'promises' (which they openly admitted they would not honour), like a dinosaur theme park ('with those dinosaurs from Jurassic Park, wherever they are these days..') and an Iceland Disneyland, free to all citizens. They even did a campaign song, to the tune of Tina Turner's Simply the Best:

When cornered into a dull debate, he just confounded opponents by going off on one and talking about Moomins or Penguins, to which they could only respond with bafflement. It was a joy to see. And the people loved it, because they could see what his opponents couldn't; that the joy has been squeezed out of people's lives, and the current crop has little clue of what people want and need. The Best Party rode the wave of the need for change in the 2010 city council elections.

This brilliant fairytale-come-true documentary had me constantly smiling, wishing for Best Parties to spring up all over the world. I wouldn't call myself much of an anarchist, but I think there is some fundamental change needed in politics, for it to regain it's humanity like it has done in Iceland.

I want to go live there now. RIGHT NOW. 8.5/10

Futures Market (Spa) (site)

Compared to Gnarr, Futures Market is a change of pace and of heart. In a similar fashion to yesterdays' Involuntary, the film jumps between a selection of unrelated stories, but whereas the subjects were all scripted tales, Futures Market is very much a reflection of the lives of real people.

There are two areas of contrasting focus, a personal view of life for the less well off, starting with the clearing out of the possessions of someone's house, and following the furniture through the process of being sifted through, stepped on and sold off, and a brief meditation on some of the people it comes into contact with along the way.

To contrast this, we see the derelict land of a hundred ex homes, imminently scheduled for demolition to make way for fancy apartment complexes in some of the world's most desirable locations. The investors come in and are courted by the salesmen. The salesmen gather in small groups and dick-wave to each other about quarterly profits. They pretend to be interested as they listen to each other network for new channels of revenue, and then they go into an inspirational seminar, where they are told how to make money out of the current economic crisis.

Though the lyrical and often beautiful words of a soft-spoken narrator of sorts breaks up the action every now and then with odes to the philosophies and lifestyles of the ancient Greeks, the otherwise non-judgemental footage pretty much says what is on the director's mind, moving between the worlds by clever and often subtle visual connections. It's a little one-sided, portraying the poor as pleasant and happy and the rich as stressed and unlikable, and it is a bit long, weighing in at a shade under 2 hours, but it was an enjoyable and personal comment on how civilisation is losing something of itself as we climb the ladder. 7/10

Symbol (Jpn) (site)

Dear Japan,

I watched Symbol today. It made me smile. In fact I had a strange and uncontrollable smile on my face the whole journey home through the night. How the film managed this, I have not as yet ascertained as I have no grasp on what it is I have just watched, but seriously I'd like a bit of whatever you guys are on.

Much love, fancyplants.

I struggle to accurately describe Symbol, but I'll try. The film is split into two, apparently unrelated stories. A man wakes up in a strange white room. The walls reach up into the sky above, and it seems an infinity of nothingness, except for a small switch-like object on the wall. Pressing it yeilds only the start of this man's nightmare at the hands of some mischievous entity, watching him to see if he can work out what to do.

The other half is set in the real world. Somewhere in Mexico, a man dons his mask and spandex suit and prepares for another round of a WWF-style tag-team fight as Escargot Man. His son and father watch in the audience. These two worlds are about to briefly collide in the most unexpected way possible.

To say any more would be to spoil the surprise hidden within the mysterious, inventive and downright barmy Symbol. Really, I thought Karate-Robo Zaborgar would be the 'out there' film this year by a country mile, but Symbol gives it a damn good run for it's money. It has the same feeling as Big Man Japan from a few years ago (by the same director who is also the star of both, unfortunately I didn't get to see it in the retrospectives section due to other commitments), and it's fair to say that if you enjoyed the frankly ludicrous (but slightly drawn out) slapstick humour there, you'll enjoy this too. I really can't say why I enjoyed it so much, because I frankly don't know, but I did. I'm still smiling now. 7.5/10

Leeds Film Festival 2011: Day 13

2011-11-15T23:22:00.007Z

Eco Pirate: The Story of Paul Watson (Can) (facebook)

Rarely has my little festival notes book had so many scribbles in it for one film. Paul Watson was one of the original members of the Greenpeace movement in the 1970's, when a group of similarly-minded anti-nuclear environmental activists decided to broaden their scope to include the mistreatment and slaughter of animals, particularly whales and seals. But whereas the Greenpeace philosophy had its roots in the Quaker movement and the concept of civil, non-violent protest, Paul Watson had more radical ideas. An acrimonious split from the group in 1977, after an operation to hinder the seal clubbers off Newfoundland, saw Paul set up his own group advocating more direct action, and as in the case of the ramming of the Sierra, an illegal whale hunting ship, outright violence to get the intended result.

Since then, Paul and his crew aboard the Sea Shepherd have met with increasing hostility from those he has tried to oppose. Russian, Norwegian and Japanese ships have all been his targets and have responded in kind, and the film contains some pretty scary footage of gunshots and huge ships ramming and scraping into each other. Mixed in with the history and archive footage of the Greenpeace and Sea Shepherd Conservation Society movements (which have not always seen eye to eye) is film from a recent pacific mission of the coast of Australia, where Japanese "Research" vessels were whaling under a thin guise. Unfortunately their ship is too slow, and could be easily outrun, which is where the celebrity fund-raisers come in.

A fascinating and enlightening film (whether you agree with the work or not) that gave a candid view through friends and colleagues past and present, of a flawed but determined man and his life mission to do what was right, regardless of whether it was lawful. 8/10

Involuntary (Swe) (site/wiki)

A collection of stories, sliced up and presented in chunks, all based around the subject of people in involuntary situations as a result of the pressure of others upon them. A fireworks accident at a party leaves a father with an eye injury, but his wife is helpless when it comes to getting him to hospital. A young teacher struggles with the ways of her peers when she sees one slapping an unruly child. Two promiscuous (to say the least) teenage girls find themselves on both the giving and receiving end of some unwanted photo taking. A woman takes a ride on a coach with some unruly teens, and finds herself stranded when the driver refuses to budge until someone owns up to a petty piece of vandalism. Finally, a group of male schoolfriends, now grown up, push things too far with one of their number.

Films of this type can be hit and miss; the broken up nature and the sparse narrative can mean that the viewer is lost in a fug of unrelated stories, trying to pattern match and find links between the scenes that aren't there. Involuntary is one of the better examples of this type of film. For the first ten minutes I groaned inside at the seemingly random scenes playing out (especially as the director steadfastly refused to move or pan the camera), but after they begin to cycle and the story of each progresses, the intention of the film becomes clearer, and thus the enjoyment also. By the end I had lost all my irked feelings and was quite enjoying what I had seen. 7/10

My Magic (Sng) (site)

My Magic brought a smile to my face even before it had started. The print that we were given to watch included the brief presentation reel for 'Action For Earth' - the theme of the Tokyo Film Festival. It felt weird to see it again.

My Magic is a sad but ultimately life-affirming tale of a lonely man. A single parent and a massive drunk. He has a heart of gold somewhere in his huge frame, but his son can't see it as the most he usually sees of his dad is a darkened figure in the night gloom, face down in his own vomit.

But Francis has one talent - he is (or was) a magician, one that specialised in feats of pain - such as sticking needles through body parts, eating glass and swallowing fire. When he learns that young Raju wants to make a better go of his life and study for university, he realises his bar job is not enough, and accepts his manager's offer to use his tricks to entertain a local gang boss. But the boss is a sadistic man, and to get the money he so desperately wants to win back his son's respect, he must take whatever beatings the boss pleases.

Taking a little while to get going, My Magic evolves from quiet and gentle beginnings, through some pretty squeamish bits, into a dramatic and emotional finale, and is not the sort of film you would expect from a place like Singapore. Francis is played by real-life magician Bosco Francis, and the things you see in the film are not special effects. When a needle appears to pass through his arm, it really does. This, coupled with the realistically sweaty and grimy surroundings gave it a feeling of realism absent from many modern films, and set the scene nicely for a powerful ending. 7.5/10

Hello Clampers!

2011-11-15T17:35:00.000Z

Did you leave for another day of making people's lives an expensive misery without a nice cold bowl of porridge this morning? Allow this lady to help out.

Have it!

In unrelated news, still no follow-up to my unpaid fine. Is it too soon to shout 'Fight the System!'? Probably. For now.

Leeds Film Festival 2011: Day 12

2011-11-14T23:27:00.004Z

Karate-Robo Zaborgar (Jpn) (wiki)

The Power Rangers have a lot to answer for, not least a slew of terribly cheesy/brilliantly cheesy (delete as appropriate) Saturday morning kids shows. But even they cannot be blamed for this attempt to take the format to the nth level. Zaborgar is a human-sized robot inherited by Daimon, a scientist's son, on his fathers' death. He has guns in his mouth, and small cars come out of his feet. And he can do Tai-chi and Karate. And he's a motorcyle in his spare time. Controlled by a helmet that Daimon wears with what appears to be a shower attachment on the side, Daimon and robot quickly form a bond taking over from inept police and getting rid of crooks, but when strangely alluring sexy half robot Miss Borg comes along to wreak havoc on behalf of evil organisation Sigma his simple feelings of right and wrong are suddenly muddied.

Even by the high standards set by Japan, KRZ is batshit mental, and relentlessly so. Think about every single stereotypical trait of crazy Japanese films, and to a wider extent, culture. Obsession with bodily function, skimpy women with lots of boob and crotch shots and fights peppered with impossible feats of gravity to name but three. KRZ has all these and more, and flaunts them almost as if to say to the rest of the world: this is how you see us, so this is what you get, kicking them merrily in the crotch while they say it.

Whether this brand of unrelenting action is for you or not I can't say. I just sat there in helpless, slack-jawed mirth. Its unabashed confidence leaps out of the screen at you, and even though the elements are all from a dozen other cheesy films, it's entertaining right to the final scene - a decisive fight between father and son on a massive pair of metal breasts. 7/10

Colorful (Jpn) (wiki)

Almost as an antidote to KRZ, Colorful exemplifies the quieter, gentler side of Japanese cinema, unfortunately one that is rarely seen and thus rarely considered representative of the animé medium.

To be fair though, Colorful is part of a pretty niche corner. If I could sit it alongside some other examples, last years' Mai Mai Miracle, and maybe Shinkai's Children Who Chase Lost Voices (which I'll see Saturday) would go into the same group, alongside Haibane-Renmei, Whisper of the Heart and Only Yesterday, i.e. quietly powerful pieces commenting on aspects of family, relationships and life, love and death, and all ones that I rate highly.

In Colorful, someone (we are deliberately not shown his face or hear his voice) reaches a waiting area in a perceived afterlife, where a sharply-suited childlike figure waits to intercept him before he takes the train to limbo. Purapura tells the man he did a terrible thing in his life, and that he is to be given a fresh start, another chance. He is to inhabit the body of Makoto, a young boy who has just committed suicide, waking up in a hospital bed just after the body is vacated.

'Makoto' inherits a loving but destructive family, whose members are slowly causing it to fall apart. Father works long hours, and his lack of backbone means he is taken advantage on. Mother had an affair, and his new brother shunned the old Makoto because he was doing badly with his studies. School is little better, but at least most of the kids don't go near him for what he did, save for some figures who seem to have had an influence on his mental state. Given only six months, Makoto must try and make sense of this young boys' life and try and put some things to rights, and also work out what he did in his own life.

Bodyswap films tend to be comedy-led, but this one is played with a more serious tone, although some moments of warm humour do show themselves. The action is minimal, concentrating on the strained relationship between the family and friends and Makoto's rediscovery of himself and what it is to be alive. Artistically, it uses a muted palette of pastel shades and an unstylised form to produce a look and style reminiscent of the works of Yoshitoshi ABe, restricting the use of computer graphics to incidental background features such as the flow of water, where it belongs. Though much of the film is played at a slow pace, I did find it almost as rewarding as the films mentioned above when taken as a whole; it's pleasant though not exhilarating in the main body, but it builds to a satisfying and emotional ending that will cause a sniffle or two. Checking my fellow audience members' reactions on leaving (a nice festival mix of young and old) it invited positive, crackling comments across the board. A film to change perceptions. 7.5/10

Mars (US) (site)

When I saw Moon earlier in the year, it was one of a pair of films celebrating (and lamenting) the passing of an age of space exploration, which for the moment will have to fade into the background for a while. This low-budget indie slacker film is the first one I have seen that explicitly works with the realisation that the space program as it is, is in a bit of trouble. Although it does this in a tongue in cheek way.

Charlie is the central character - and third wheel - as one of a trio of astronauts heading to Mars following in the jet stream of the European Space Agency, who have just sent an un-manned robot - ART - up there to look for life. Set eleven years after an alternate, Russian Beagle II set down rather clumsily and got stuck, bringing with it a load of bacteria from a low ranking dogsbody with a bad cold. The nasty, shady government wants them to change course for shadowy reasons and intercept ART to see if they can get to the booty - the possibility of extraterrestrial life - first.

Mars uses a distinctive animation technique, applying a computer generated moire to standard film footage to create something akin to a live action comic-book style. This is a bit garish but it does have the advantage of more easily blending in the characters and cardboard locations with the artificial landscape created around them. The acting was so-so, some of the lesser players looking like they had been brought in at the last minute, but it was a bit of a laugh and not really aiming for a realistic portrayal of mystery and suspense on a foreign planet. What let it down a bit was an abrupt ending and a feeling that the money ran out, which was a shame as the film had some really good ideas and was genuinely sharp and funny. 7/10

Leeds Film Festival 2011: Day 11

2011-11-13T22:52:00.002Z

Sennentuntschi: Curse of the Alps (Swi) (site)

Unfortunately, I missed the start of this but it looked pretty good. The Sennentuntschi story comes from a Swiss folk tale of a woman that appears in a village and wreaks havok. As a comment on the inherent sexual brutality of men towards women through the years, she remains passive and friendly until the chemicals start to flow and the men try to have their way with her. Then they are all slaughtered.

Reusch has been a well respected police officer through the years in the peaceful town of Trepunt, but this changes when a hooded figure is seen creeping through the streets. The young woman has a savage, animal streak and quick witted eyes that seem to glow, but she appears manicured and in good health. The reaction of the villagers is for distrust and gossip to spread, and it is not long before Reusch's investigation is complicated by the raising of pitchforks after a rousing speech by the local priest. And a battle between reason and superstition heightens never allowing the viewer to be completely sure where this girl comes from and what she is capable of.

The audience is kept guessing right until the end, where the director throws multiple curve balls that forces you to re-evaluate pretty much everything you have seen. It's disturbing and a bit gory, although some of the more extreme natures of the male characters, which seem to move randomly between caring human being and slavering sex monster, feel a little false. Nontheless, it is a disturbing, entertaining and complicated film that refuses to be pinned down. 7.5/10

Together (Swe/Den/Ita) (wiki)

Hippy communes have rarely (in film representations, anyway) been successful. Ideological people coming together with a claim of openness to new ideas and perspectives often find they have different definitions of the term, and a purposeful lack of leadership mixed with a naive manifesto sooner or later causes the breakup of the group.

Goren, as much of a leader as you would expect in such a situation is blind or in denial about the imminent demise of his little group. Having been together for some time, a mix of moderate and extreme, socialist and communist, gay and straight. They rejected consumerism and capitalist leanings, and at some point it was decided that they would all be vegans. Rumbling tummies all round. It's got to the point where a round table discussion of who should do the washing up, if anyone results in heated tempers and the matter not being resolved.

Note: the website at the end is no longer for the film.

But Goren finds himself adding another cat among the pigeons. His mainstream society sister Elizabeth and her two children (quiet Eva and moody Stefan) need somewhere to stay as she has just broken up with Rolf. It's a squeeze already and finding them a room adds to the tension.

As expected, this new capitalist pig-dog living in the commune causes ruffles, but also begins to nudge some of it's members into re-evaluating their beliefs and values. Some of the more extreme members begin to move on, whereas those with a more open mind (or a stake to claim) stay on.

The blurb sounded more akin to the same sort of destructive film that Snowland turned out to be, but it really wasn't like that at all. A slightly messy and unfocused start (much like the commune itself) matured slowly and by the end I found myself wearing a genuine smile and feeling a warm glow at the outcome. 8/10

Note: They have just announced the extra festival films for Saturday 19th and Sunday 20th and Together is on the list. Catch it if you are in the area.

Repulsion (UK) (wiki)

How Roman Polanski would like to turn the clock back and be known for his films and not his sordid private life. Repulsion was his first major success with a western audience, a very private study of one womans' mental state in freefall. Delicate fawn Carole begins the film in a bit of a trance-like state (in fact, given this is a film from the 60's she is so zoned out you expect a long line of men of that era to be slapping her and shouting 'for gawds sake, darlin, SNAP AAHT OF IT!').

But her mental state is much more complicated than just feeling a bit airy. Carole, a Belgan manicurist living in her sister's house in an affluent part of London just about keeps things in equilibrium so long as she has enough structure in her life - that of her supportive sister and her oafish boyfriend and a steady job at the beauty salon. But when they leave for a holiday in Italy for a week or so, the scales are tipped and Carole begins to lose control of her faculties.

After a slow start (where Catherine Deneuve basically stares into the distance for half an hour) the true horror of her mental decline is revealed, using some pretty nightmarish psychological hallucinations; walls that crack and threaten to bring the building down, and turn soft at the touch, evil men invading her bed every night, and apparent heavy breathing phone calls. Withdrawing deeper into the prison she makes for herself, both physical and mental, she becomes a danger to whoever happens to stumble upon her predicament.

It looks dated by modern standards, but underneath the slightly tatty exterior is a truly disturbing but finely executed analysis of how a fragile mind can turn in on itself with just the slightest push. 7/10

Happy People: A Year in the Taiga (Ger) (wiki)

Another film festival, another Werner Herzog film. Advancing years seem not to have slowed the output of this director, who likes to split his time between clinical documentaries and action films of every persuasion.

For the past couple of films, it seemed like he was spreading himself a little thin; My Son, My Son, What Have Ye Done? seemed to be an attempt at a Coen Brothers' style of film, and though he got the look down there was little feeling there. Likewise, Cave of Forgotten Dreams was a beautiful and privileged glimpse into a forgotten and beautiful world, but Herzog again seemed to bring a scripted clinical quality to it that detracted from the experience.

Taiga is documentary time once more. The Taiga is a stretch of near-impenetrable wilderness made up of deep forests and fast-flowing rivers and spans a ring around the upper end of the globe. In a northern part of Siberian Russia, summer is brief and winter is long and difficult, with temperatures bottoming out at -50c. Herzog narrates a condensed year, from the spring (which is far harsher than any winter I have seen) right through to the following depths of their winters.

The small Siberian village of Bakhtia was chosen for the subject matter. It sits on the outskirts of the Siberian Taiga region, and its hunter-trappers spend the summer months preparing for the winter; catching as many fish as possible, hollowing out trees to make canoes, and creating and setting a thousand or so traps (each!) for the Sable, a weasel-like creature that the locals can sell for their pelts. As well as this, each trapper maintains his own 1500-square kilometre patch of the Taiga, particularly their main cabin and a handful of outlying huts, each of which are open to falling trees, massive crushing snowdrift and the odd curious bear. In the autumn months, the men say goodbye to their families for the winter months, and head off to their huts where they live out a solitary existence with only their faithful dogs for company.

Herzog's clinical Arnie-style narration (I so want him to say 'come with me if you want to live') is not entirely without emotion and doesn't distract too much from the beautiful, harsh landscapes and yet another disappearing culture. The film is a mix of the informative, with a sprinkle of sadness and humour here and there. I'd definitely rate it higher than CoFD (just for the variety alone) and is certainly his best documentary film for years. 8/10

Leeds Film Festival 2011: Day 10

2011-11-12T23:47:00.005Z

Yorkshire Short Film Competition

Extraordinary Moves - A short segment highlighting the work of an arts project based in Yorkshire that uses motion capture techniques to show through wireframe models how both able-bodied and disabled people walk and move. The cause was noble enough but there was little to hold the attention. 6/10

We Are Poets (interview) - Leeds is shown in all it's grotty, run-down, historic and beautiful forms through a poem celebrating the fact that, even though it's got it's faults, it's still part of the person who lives there and should not be derided for it. 7.5/10

Tetleys: Quality Pays - Tetleys as a brewery in Leeds was taken over by Carlsberg in 2008, the new owners promising a secure future. Now it is about to be closed. This short film celebrates it's impact on the area and mourns its imminent and seemingly unnecessary demise, highlighting it's belief in producing good product not making money, something the new owners arguably fails to do. 8/10

Hedwig - Using a random set of words from a random book to make a story is by definition a bit hit and miss. Hence we have a strange little animated film about a Professor Yaffle-style bird caught in a glass, watched by a bird-like creature. Weird. 4/10

Lost at Sea - A fresh breeze of a music video from the local (Belfast?) band 'Cashier No.9' using stop-motion photography to animate a sailing ship and it's crew member splashing through the streets of Leeds. Press the play button and turn the sound up. 8/10

Junk - Tet and his boyfriend Jack live as squatters, after Jacks' massively homophobic father kicks him out. They just need a little bit of money and stability to make the leap to somewhere nicer, but drugs and confused feelings get in their way. A strong, sad tale of broken people. 7.5/10

Click - Shown at Bradford this year, this is the story of five children entering a disused warehouse and finding a windowless room where strangely lights still work. But, as the kids mess around they begin to disappear without reason. A spooky well made film with amateur actors who did a good job. 7.5/10

Bantam - Finally, a tale of a young man who can't seem to get a break whatever he does. Timid and tender, he is bullied at school, ignored at home and the only place he feels secure - a moorside farm where game hens are reared - has just become a place where trust has been betrayed. A quietly sad little film. 7.5/10

Small Town Murder Songs (Can) (site)

In a religious southern American backwater town, a man leaves his community and becomes a born again Christian. Clearly something triggered this desire to undermine the values of his birth community and start again, but when we meet Walter we can have no clue of what led him to this decision.

It seemed to have something to do with Steve, the town's generally inconsequential low-level slacker who has gotten together with Rita, a woman whose past is intertwined with Walter's. When the dead body of a young woman is found at the side of the highway and a Washington detective appears to push the investigation forward, Walter fights with his feelings and emotions and tries not to see it as a way of getting even by implicating the man who has been a constant thorn in his side. His eventual failure has him removed from the investigation, but when things start genuinely pointing towards Steve as the killer when he has been dismissed from investigations, Walters' feelings look to have done twice the harm.

Deep and reverent religious themes play throughout; churches, confessionals, bible quotes writ large on the landscape; showing humanity up for all its sinful terror just bubbling under the surface of everyday life (and arguably, religion's inability to stem the flow). The largely unknown cast play their parts well and the emotional journey is invigorated by beautiful, soulful music; a thumping accompaniment to a powerful story. 8/10

Snowtown (Aus) (site)

Mainstream horror movies don't usually move me much, at least not these days. There's something about the amount of blood splattering or computer generated gore/monsters/etc in them that make them artificial, and thus distant. There is little to turn it from some actors going through a predetermined route in a movie, to you living the terror with them.

Snowtown is not a horror movie, not in the sense conjured up when you mention the term. But it is horrific in it's execution of the life of John Bunting, whose self-righteous brand of mass killing actually happened a decade or so ago in Australia. And it made me hide behind my hands like no horror film ever could.

Told from the perspective of young James Vlassakis, one of four sons and half-brothers to Elizabeth, the unlucky soul who after several failed attempts to find a new man, (including a neighbour who took naked pictures of her sons), found John Bunting and fell in love.

Bunting was initially a solid, family man, but his increasingly extreme methods for forcing the neighbour to move away act as a sign of the madman within. Sitting round the family table with neighbours and friends, he helps whip them into a frenzy of self-righteous bravado and setting the world to rights, it's just that the other guys don't expect to go through with it.

Lacking a father figure, James begins to distance himself from the rest of the family and come under Bunting's wing, who grooms or threatens him into more and more terrible acts and becomes part of his dysfunctional group of warped vigilantes.

This is a shockingly powerful and harrowing film, and it's menace won't leave the mind for a while. Bunting is played masterfully by Daniel Henshall, whose unblinking gaze and Charles Bronson upside-down-face beard, calmly surveys friend and victim alike, we can only guess at the thoughts passing through his mind. I felt deeply disturbed by what I had seen, but such was the point of this film, a masterful portrayal of the depths of human depravity. 8/10

Leeds Film Festival 2011: Day 9

2011-11-12T00:26:00.003Z

Bellflower (US) (site)

What can start out as something beautiful can go horribly wrong. Woodrow and his best friend Aiden are dysfunctional stoner American teens who have just broken free of their parents and are heading out into the world. Mad Max and Knight Rider clearly influenced them and together they are trying to realise their dreams of a gadget-filled car to wow the locals everywhere they go, and a home made flame-thrower, for a bit of light-hearted fun. They already have a beat up old Volvo that dispenses brandy, so they are half-way there already. However, getting together on a first date with friend of a friend Milly, Woodrow heads off on a whim across country to Texas and back, and on the way they get it on. By the time they return they are pretty much an item.

But something has snapped in Woodrow's brain, and a new self-destructive side begins to show itself. As relationships falter and change, a defining event forces him into a decision, the result of which will have consequences for how the rest of his life pans out.

As funny as much as it is shocking and disturbing, Woodrows' actions are not always expected, and come from nowhere, sometimes but not always explained later in the film with a carefully weaved flashback. This breakup of the narrative structure unsettles and challenges the viewer a bit more, and the ending has a satisfying feel. 8/10

Red Psalm (Hun) (wiki)

Nobody told me this would be a musical. Nobody said that in the director's attempt to convey the struggles of a socialist farming community against the capitalist regime of late 19th century Hungary, that much of it would be spent singing in the face of the enemy.

Red Psalm is a deeply allegorical film about this struggle, which took inspiration from some of the Hungarian uprisings around the time. The dogged insistence of the director to frame the film as 28 super-long takes means that realism is swapped out for choreography and abstraction. Thus the workers link arms and in a very pre-determined and not remotely natural-looking fashion prance around the guards with their guns drawn. And the incessant git who would not stop strumming his damn guitar, before during and after someone copping it. Why did they not kill him? Gaah.

So to watch this film is to go through a period of irritation and adjustment, to stop trying to get anything more than an abstracted suggestion of some uprising from the past, and view it with the disposition you would have if going to see a ballet or theatre musical. Not get too annoyed when some fop dances around the screen and then drops dead for no particular reason. Not be so surprised if the communication is often via the medium of song. Just watch, interpret some allegorical story from it and move on.

Maybe I'm being a bit harsh; the long, complex choreographed takes were impressive with such a large cast, and it made a bit of a change to have a story told in a different way. And it gets an extra point for having women with their boobies showing in it, which.. you know.. is nice. 4/10

Let the Bullets Fly (Chn/HK) (wiki)

A late night blood fest was on the cards, although it turned out to be more of a PG. Set in early 20th century China we find good hearted gangster 'Pocky' Zhang and his team of numbered mercenaries, hijacking a train headed for the nearby Goose town with their new governor, his wife and their advisor. Thanks to some improbable axe placement the train is derailed somewhat and the two remaining survivors - the wife and the advisor - make a pact with Zhang to have him take the governors place with the promise of Robin Hood-style shenanigans if they can stay the course. This won't be straightforward as Goose Town has been under mob rule for some time, by the smart-dressed but imposing Master Huang, who doesn't like the idea of yet another governor getting in his way.

Note: This trailer rather dishonestly paints the film as a serious action flick. It really isn't.

Chinese movies of this kind tend to be a more complex, less accessible animal than the Korean or Japanese equivalents and this is no exception. Intended somewhere between action-adventure, gangster flick and family comedy it's eastern humour sometimes flew over the audiences' heads, especially when some of the (often white on white) subtitles were on the screen for less than a second. I'm sure that to a Chinese audience, or at least one with a familiarity with some of the more ingrained cultural references this would be a blast, but I found it a little confusing and soupy. 6/10

Leeds Film Festival 2011: Day 8

2011-11-10T23:18:00.002Z

Forest (Hun) (review)

A crowded shopping centre has people come and go. A man with a backpack looking suspicious, a woman with a dog. A few dozen others come in and out of view.

A woman comes back to her flat to learn she is the owner of a dog. The present owner is pretty sure she should have it, and besides, he's about to head off and kill himself. A couple of men analyse a purchase without the viewer ever seeing what it is. Two parents quarrel over the man's inability to accept their daughters' encroaching womanhood, letting a few diquietening opinions slip along the way. A woman confronts her childish man-boy husband whose latest cover-up for screwing around with other girls involves taking some porn to a friend. Who is dead. A disturbing account by a woman to her partner about a bad dream she had which morphs into a tale of abuse from her gran when she was young. A woman is told a tale on a ferry of a giant catfish.

All completely separate stories, more like a succession of short films, connected only by the players being briefly in the same place at the same time. As an original piece of cinema it worked quite well (better than the clip suggests but it's the only one), but it's execution doggedly stuck to close-up wobble-cam shots, which as is usual in these films can get a bit annoying. Mercifully we were spared the worst excesses of the format and after an adjustment period I learned to live with it. Each segment was done in a single take, and the parts were played with the raw emotion expected of their subject matter, and generally the stories were engaging, but the format grated a little for me, and it irked that almost all the men were portrayed as irresponsible idiot man-children. But experimental film has been a lot worse. 6.5/10

Love (Hun) (wiki)

A classic Hungarian film, and a rare screening as it's 40th anniversary looms. In the time of Stalinist paranoia and distrust, Luca tries to keep the hopes of her elderly mother-in-law from taking the last of her fragile thirst for life away. Now elderly and bed-ridden, she hopes for her son (and Luca's husband), Janos to come back from America where he is premièring his first film. Except he isn't - Janos is locked up under dubious charges by the Hungarian secret police and has been for some time, and Luca maintains the story with a bit of help from the maid and a web of concocted tales, helped along by granny's failing and confused memory. The film is set in 1950's Hungary during the dark, paranoid days of Stalins' rule of Russia, where the tight political regime meant that you could expect a couple of forceful men at the door requiring a bit of private time to 'fix' your telephone.

Friends disappear from the radar and Luca has to be careful, but one day a letter arrives that spells hope that Janos might yet see his grandmother before she dies.

It's an obviously dated piece, showing the gulf of technical achievement between east Europe and the western countries at the time (it was the same year of Dirty Harry and A Clockwork Orange). The sound is distant, the cutting is choppy and very little indeed in the way of computer generated robots. But it also shows that the elements that mattered were there. The cinematography was close and uncomfortable, hounding the actors and as oppressive as the regime they were in, and the high quality acting meant that I believed it was happening, rather than some actors rehearsing lines. It's far from the best film I've seen, but it is a strong example of European cinema and quite enjoyable. 6/10

Aitá (Spa) (site)

The slow restoration of an old rectory by an elderly man and his two sons is told slowly and carefully in this late evening film As school trips are invited in and hoards of energetic kids run everywhere the teacher will let them, and late night break-ins by petty thieves result in flickery lights darting between the windows, the house begins to return to life, and the isolated old man begins to experience an awakening of his own.

My heart sank a bit when I read the blurb for this a little closer and saw the word 'experimental', a term which colours my perceptions somewhat as it suggests the director using all sorts of annoying techniques to look 'different'. Fortunately, Aitá (Father) partially adopts the standard narrative method, and then intersperses them with meditative shots to plump it out a bit and allow the viewer to 'experience' the house slowly becoming a home. The dark, old fashioned decor and flaking walls coming back to life with old and broken filmography to the sounds of a beautiful reverent choir, as if the presence of people in the house was causing it to remember it's past. We get to hear a little of the life of the old man, but it is the house that is the star and thus the subject, and we explore it personally. This is not to say I was massively impressed with the film, it would probably bore the arse off many who watched it, but having put lots of time, effort and love into my own small equivalent of this, I sort of 'got it', and understood a little of what the director was trying to say, and thus found it not entirely unenjoyable. 7/10

Leeds Film Festival 2011: Day 7

2011-11-10T00:02:00.004Z

International Short Film Competition 2

Beach Boy (Den) - Young Dimi has to suffer a beach holiday with his older brother and his girlfriend Isabelle. Clearly horny as hell for this older woman, he tries clumsily to ingratiate with her without raising the ire of his oafish sibling, with mixed results. A sullen little film bubbling under with sibling rivalry. 7/10

The Builder (Col) - A strange film about a father and his young son, who have to cope with the sudden death of their gran. Dad goes on a spiritual journey in recoil, presumably leaving his son behind - I couldn't tell. I felt there was something beautiful to see here, but it went over my head. 6/10

The Choice (Pls) - The grieving father of a young girl hooked up to a machine doesn't realise she is watching him from across the room. A sweet, sombre tale of family love and loss. 7/10

Cold (Nor) - After collapsing mysteriously at a nightclub, Jon has to come to terms with the fact that he cannot live the life his friends can, and his maybe girlfriend has some bad news for him too. The future is looking cold. 7/10

Until Summer Comes (Ita) - A chilling film about the potency of mixed chemicals racing around the body of three teenagers, who when they spotted their 'older woman' teacher sunbathing at the seaside, first flirt with, then appeal to emotion, then doggedly hound her to change their marks so they pass. The ending is left deliberately ambiguous to leave the audience to guess what the outcome was. 7.5/10

The Visit (Sir) - What seems to be a final visit from a long-absent son on his fathers' death bed isn't quite what it seems. A subversively humorous film to round things off nicely. 8/10

Las Acacias (Arg/Spa) (review)

A life alone on the roads transporting logs from one country to the other has allowed Ruben to live an acceptable life of modest comfort. Eating well in the truck stop cafes and providing for his family. He has little contact with people for any length of time, and so e has developed a bit of an independent air.

His little side-earner, giving a lift to those who wish to swap one country for another on the quiet, is the source for a challenge to this ingrained way of life. A mutual friend has arranged for Jacinta, who meets at the pre-arranged point in the hopes of getting into Buenos Aeres, although not alone. She has with her little Anahi, her daughter of no more than a few months. Ruben isn't happy, but slowly the pair managed to remind him of the pleasures of contact and family.

When compared to the action thrillers, this film is distinct in it's long quiet shots and sparse dialogue. For the first ten minutes or so, not a word is spoken, as Rubens' contactless life is described implicitly. Even when they meet, little is said at the start, Ruben's story and transformation is slow and unhurried. This might bore some people to death but it's one of those times where subtlety and the film taking it's time work really well. It's the little things; the gestures, the eye contact, and none more so than adorable Anahi, who stares fixatedly at the grumpy hairy old man slowly melting his heart with her laser eyes. It's a super-gentle film with no bad guys and no major upsets, just a simple meeting of lonely souls with a hopeful future ahead. 7.5/10

She-Monkeys (Swe) (review)

Emma is a young teen on the verge of womanhood, and her big chance is looming to realise her dream. Voltige classes are looming and she really wants to represent her group in an upcoming competition. Now is not the time to think of falling in love, and not to Cassandra, the top performer of the group. So starts a tenuous relationship of love and confusion mixed with a fierce competitiveness, getting in the way of her chances of making the grade in the tough training sessions, and affecting her attitude at home. making her withdrawn and sullen.

A tamer, more sensitive film than I had garnered from the blurb, it never reaches dizzy heights of intrigue or romance, preferring to remain gently simmering off the hob The main story is supplemented by (arguably the star of the show) Sara - Emma's little sister who is growing up all too quickly, getting a massive crush on her (much) older cousin and determined to win him for herself. It deals with sensitive subjects all around the area of developing sexual and emotional feelings with a steady but slightly daring hand. 7.5/10

Leeds Film Festival 2011: Day 6

2011-11-09T00:12:00.004Z

I Am Jesus (Ita) (site)

Do you remember David Shayler from a while ago? He was the ex-secret service agent who got kicked out in 1996 for leaking middle-east secrets, a proto-wikileaks if you will. Well, he kept on his path of change. Today, he is the leader of a small group of eco-warriors who smoke dope and dumpster dive, he has found out two things about himself as well. First, he is Jesus reincarnate. Second, he is a transsexual. Well, god is mysterious.

He is not alone. It appears the world is infested with reincarnated Jesii, of which just three are profiled in this film. Over in Brazil, controversial self-appointed prophet INRI Christo emerged out of the Brazilian revolution clinging to the top of a police car, and now as he celebrates his 61st birthday he lives a comfortable existence being waited upon by his many 'daughters', communicating with the outside world via amusing TV appearances (not all of them respectful) and some seriously watchable youtube videos.

What you are seeing are two of his more creative maid servants, performing a choice cover of Britney Spears' Toxic. There are others to savour on their channel. Try to bear in mind that these people are completely serious about all this. But someone needs to tell him he's getting a bit too used to that crown of thorns - it was meant to be punishment if I recall.

A third Jesus lives in snow-locked Siberia, where a commune of families have built a community from scratch around the life of their saviour, the rather more quiet Vissarion, who has the look pretty much nailed but doesn't seem to like talking that much. Their community is quite large now, and devotion to their 'god' has progressed to their own services, dress codes and rare glimpses where he comes out and sits in the snow. Clearly keeping cards to his chest makes them clammer for more.

The directors have stayed completely behind the camera, and with the exception of a couple of questions, kept completely silent letting the prophets reveal themselves who they are to the viewer rather than pointing and laughing. But even though there is plenty to laugh and gawp at here, there is also a lot of love and community also in evidence. Shaylers' ragtag hippy commune is laughable when they start talking about reading his name in scriptures and deciding he was Jesus while high on magic mushrooms, but it's hard to dislike a guy who doesn't care about what people say when he goes out in a dress, has novel approaches to council tax bills and recycles thrown out produce (see Dive!) managing to provide for his commune and living semi-self sufficiently. Even though INRI himself is a massive lazy-arsed douche, his songstresses have the right attitude when people laugh at their videos - they just say they are happy to put a smile on people's faces.

So it's an entertaining, funny, shocking and wonderful film about how even though these people are clearly charlatans and frauds, they have also managed to be happy, and make others happy too. I wish them well. 8/10

Film to Change 2011 (UK)

Running parallel to the film festival is a range of talks and presentations on the subject of mental health by the local Arts and Minds film project. They have gathered together eight short films from small and medium film-makers the UK into a segment to highlight a side of mental health different to that usually depicted in the cinemas.

The Bus Stop - A woman with agoraphobia plucks up the courage to move from the confines of her house to the bus stop outside (the one I dropped off at an hour later!) The travel is a bit past her abilities just yet though, so she finds other excuses to hang around the stop. Sweet. 7/10

Home - A handful of people with mental health problems talk about what their houses mean to them, from sanctuary to an expression of their self. Too short to get to know any of them. 6/10

The Ordinary Looking House - A really sweet but ultimately sad tale, told with old photographs and sentences written on scraps of paper. A woman recounts growing up with a father who had mental health issues, and the strain it had on her siblings and mother. 7.5/10

The Bridge - A paranoid young man goes about his daily routine while heading to work, and fights once again his urges when he reaches The Bridge. It would have been effective but for the music which was annoying. 6.5/10

Tackling Judgement - Sally-Ann Robinson suffers from PTSD and depression, and posts up YouTube videos explaining the problems she goes through on days when she wakes up and can barely get out of bed. A personal and quite moving account of someone learning to cope with something they will have for life. 8/10

Diagnosis Psychosis - With a tongue-in-cheek nod to cheesy cop films, two 'American' plain clothes cops chase down a psychotic serial killer round the streets of Leeds. Silly, but with an ending cleverer than what I was expecting. 7/10

The First Step - A very clever film about a mother trying to find the will to get out of bed and begin the long road back to being a normal person instead of being so withdrawn, for her daughter if not herself. But before that, she has to get over her over analysis of it all which is causing that comfy bed to feel like a much better prospect. Very entertaining and it highlighted the simple but disabling problem really effectively. 8/10

Institute Denta-Mental - A man's anxiety on visiting a mental hospital in a converted house gets the better of him as he travels there, and he imagines all sorts of grotesque characters and treatments he might receive. 7/10

Inbred (UK) (site)

I love Hyde Park, but I wish they would get their act together. When a sell-out film is due to start at 9pm, you'd hope it would do something like that. Especially if you are looking to catch the last train home straight afterwards. I was thus not happy that we were still waiting for the damn thing to start half an hour later. Grr.

The place was packed, and for a good reason. Inbred is a local film, made by local people, and so the masses had been whipped into a frenzy. The League of Gentlemen comparisons continue as the film reveals the village of Wortlake, a rancid pit of a Yorkshire village being visited by Jeff and Kaye, a couple of care workers in charge of a quad of problem teens, off into the countryside for a weekend of walking the dales and.. stripping derelict trains?

Anyway, them there locals don't take kindly to strangers snooping around, and its not long before they are rounded up and made into one-time only attractions at a macabre circus of sorts run by the pub landlord. Can the misfit group stop themselves being picked off and get away while they still have limbs?

After a slightly ropey start (the intro was overly long and dull, and the music tried too hard) it settled down into a surprisingly well-made horror fest, with equally surprising special effects. The director seems to have a penchant for things being crushed, and we get lots of it, and plenty of blood to wash it down too. But it's also got a sharp edged humour to it, poking fun at the Yorkshire folk and even making you feel sorry for some of the bad guys. In other words, enough of both sides to ensure that mostly everyone will get some enjoyment out of it. 7.5/10

Leeds Film Festival 2011: Day 5

2011-11-07T23:32:00.002Z

Convento (US) (site) + Battenburg (UK)

Battenburg was shown in yesterdays' world animation segment, but it was a good primer for Convento. This short documentary describes the present-day use of the Convento sao Francisco, an ancient building whose original purpose was to house the relics of Christs cross. Today however, after a period of dilapidation, it has become the home of Geraldine and her adult sons, Cristiaan and Lois. They're a bit.. eccentric.

Geraldine restricts herself to a few modest plaster works, and grows a few vegetables and tramps knee-deep through the pond fishing out bindweed in her spare time. Her sons while away their hours making grander artworks. Christiaan in a rather macabre way takes the skeletal remains of animals he finds and reanimates them with crude animatronics. Dotted around the grounds are some of his works, ranging from the forgettable to the brilliant. His installation sculpture made from the ancient water wheel of the old house powers a full-size animatronic mule on an endless circle around the pumping well, as real ones would have done in years gone by. Most of the materials for his works originate from the nearby dump, where all sorts of electrical goods containing electronics and motors allow these things to be made on the cheap.

Lois, as if to go one stage further is more into film, doing slightly batshit things such as persuading his long-suffering girlfriend (I presume) to put on an inflatable space suit with him and bound about like idiots. Also: singing leaves and a stuffed gibbering rabbit trussed up in armour. Yes.

Though I found the little window onto these reclusive lives distracting, and the surroundings they lived in to be very beautiful, they bothered me too much to really enjoy this film. Maybe the most telling part for me was Geraldine's admission near the end that they just don't do proper hard work like normal people, instead just arsing around making strange sculpture and crazy film. Maybe I'm a little bit jealous. 6/10

World Animation Competition 3 - Long Shorts

After last night's marathon I thought there would be loads here too, but this segment was specifically for those short films that were a bit chunkier than the others.

The Lost Town of Switez (Pol) - An interpretation of a poem by Adam Mickiewicz. A young man has an encounter with a figure in the road as he rides through the night. Stepping out of the carriage, the coachman and horses are bolt asleep. He stumbles through the forest, but he is under attack - in fact the hordes of Norman-like horsemen are shooting flaming arrows past him and towards a city, whose genteel population can only flee to their church for sanctuary. It is beautifully made, using computer graphics with a pastel watercolour effect, and the art style of the religious works of the middle ages his hallucinations evoke religious fervour to compliment the rousing orchestral choir that completes the reverie. A beautiful, wordless allegorical tale. 7.5/10

Wild Life (Can) - A young and naive gentleman ignores his stuffy fathers' wishes and heads out from the comfort of Blighty to the frontier settlements of early 20th Century Alberta. Massaging the facts as he writes back home, his biggest problems are yet to materialise as winter comes along - and they're not wussy British ones over there, either. It develops a more sombre edge to it's initial pip-pip personality, and the quirky art style fits the mood perfectly, it too changing as the story darkens. 8/10

Journey to Cape Verde (Por) - Feeling stifled and trapped, a young twentysomething packs up a backpack, leaves a note for his loved ones and quits Lisbon for a place where he can find himself. He's clearly been looking a while and now he knows - Africa, in particular the Cape Verde islands. Using primary colours and a thick black pen for the main art style, he narrates his journey retrospectively, the stylised stick-figure animation complemented by pages from his diary with pencil sketches and simple watercolours of some of the more memorable sights on his travels. A beautiful and intimate tale of becoming intentionally lost and keeping going to find a new existence, and one that gives me itchy feet. 8/10

The Monster of Nix (Bel) - Hovering around the half-hour mark, this could easily be put on the telly for a Christmas holiday treat. It's a Grimm-style tale with a bit of magic and wonder, and a little bit scary like you would expect. A boy gets a nasty surprise when his grandmother, and most of the house disappears. His village is being destroyed somehow, and buoyed on with the hope of locating her, goes to the forests, where all sorts of weird creatures come out of the shadows, some good - some not so good, and some you just aren't sure of. Some of these beings are gathering strange silver eggs, said to hold stories inside of them. But it's clear the world is being destroyed and the main story is about to end.

It's a dark fairytale, but the creepiest bit is the animation style. In the same way Madame Tutli-Putli mesmerised me a few years ago by combining stop-motion and computer effects so you couldnt see the join, this takes it a little further. I honestly couldn't tell some of the time whether it was real people in masks or computers making the characters. The faces were clearly the work of ones and zeroes, but the movement and detail looked super-real. It was compelling to watch, the only problem being that this was in the town hall, and so again the acoustics made it so some of the dialogue was difficult to follow. It's a shame, because otherwise I really enjoyed it. 8/10

Heat Wave (Fra) (review)

Using a non-linear storyline, which overlaps and goes back on itself to tell the same segment from a different point of view, Heat Wave relates the tales of several people living in a Marseilles suburb. Single mum Anne is trying to keep a secret hospital visit secret from her daughter Amélie, who in turn is struggling with how to deal with her new-found pregnancy to both her and her boyfriend, Luigi. He suddenly has a passion to leave and wants her to go wit him. Apart from this group is the quiet natured Georges, who just wants to have a quiet life and listen to his music, but things just don't seem to be going his way today. The most influential character has only a fleeting role at the start and at the end of this piece, and this whole film leads up to the defining moment where the intersection of several lives results in tragedy.

The events in each life laid bare are pretty pedestrian, but the skilful weaving of lives and time-lines creates an engaging story, and one that takes you by surprise with it's ending. For a French film it's pleasingly lacking in philosophy, too. 7.5/10

Leeds Film Festival 2011: Day 4

2011-11-06T23:45:00.004Z

The Day The Earth Stood Still (US) (wiki)

It's always nice to come back to a classic film, especially when you have the chance to see it on the big screen. This original version (no sad Keanu here) dates back to 1951 and can be considered the original sci-fi movie. It loses nothing of it's original suspense sixty years later.

Seeing it with fresh eyes (I must have been a teen when it was last on) my concentration has shifted. Back then, I watched the film from the standpoint of young Bobby, a gee-willerkins American kid (surely a model for Russel in Up) whose boundless energy and cops-and-robbers imagination sees aliens and gangsters around every corner, though this time he's on the money when Mr. Carpenter appears mysteriously a few days after the alien ship lands and some trigger-happy soldier shoots the occupant. The alien has a dire message for the world, and the world (or at least the army) seem intent on signing their own death certificate.

Now, I can see a few messages and themes not far under the surface, an anti-war ethic, a look to the scientists and thinkers of the age to take a lead, and a message of getting our world in order while we still can. Reworded and reworked a thousand times since, it remains topical stuff, and given the increasingly intelligence-shunning nature of US politicians these days, perhaps a reminder that they have taken a step backwards in that regard (except for the totalitarian robot solution that is suggested however).

Of course, you're not going to be able to watch the film without noticing the dated special effects but it still manages to both challenge and entertain the audience, and probably scare a few small children, Dr. Who-style in the process. 7.5/10

World Animation Competition 2

A bumper crop of animated shorts this year, and this 14-film bundle is only one of three animation events in the strand. The last one is tomorrow.

The Boy In The Bubble (Irl) - Alan Rickman narrates a childrens poem about a young boy whose girlfriend leaves him in a snap when a better one comes along. Casting a spell, he traps himself inside a bubble. Allegorical with a simplicity aimed at children, it was nice although the animation was a little wooden. 7/10

Don't Tell Santa you're Jewish (Can) - A charmingly wobbly cartoon art style is used with minimal colours to describe a jewish girl's trip to see Santa, so she can get a present. However, santa has his own secrets to keep. 7.5/10

Luminaris (Arg) - Stop-motion animation can be applied to real people as well as plasticine models. Using thousands of stills to tell its story of a man half-inching a few office supplies to fund his private dream. Really charming and witty, and good fun. 8/10

Bottle (USA) - Using similar stop-motion techniques, this is a bittersweet tale of two amorphous creatures on either side of an ocean; one made of snow, the other sand. They communicate by sending each other little presents in a bottle, until one takes the plunge and suggests they meet. 8/10

366 Days (Ger) - A paramedic's first day on the job is tough and his new partner seems distant and uncaring towards the patients they see. He tries his best to make up the shortfall, but maybe it's he that needs to reassess his approach. 7.5/10

Alimation (Fra) - A simple film about cakes. On a turntable. Sweet, sugary decorations and a carefully set frame count create a zoetrope effect, making them both clever and yum. Was short enough not to become repetitive. 6.5/10

Don Justino de Neve (UK) - A portrait of the man forms the basis of this messy scrawled short, where the Don himself shows us how much of a bounder and cad he is with the ladies, who despite being treated like crap, can't keep their hands off him. Like he says of himself - he's not a nice man. 7/10

Sudd Slut (Out of Erasers) (Den/Swe) - An ambitious short that attempts to squeeze the end of the world into a few minutes. A woman rides a bus, and notices a strange residue on the back of the seat. Slowly turning her to a mess of papery scribble, the only cure is to erase it with a pencil rubber. An absurd premise turns creepy as the substance spreads and multiplies, taking people over like Invasion of the Bodysnatchers, until she is forced to take drastic action. 7.5/10

Un Petit Bol D'Air (Fra) - Idling thoughts and random patterns come together as with previous short favourite Love and Theft. It's pretty and goes in harmony with the bombastic music, but it's nothing more than a distraction. Fortunately it's too short to become annoying. 6.5/10

Battenberg (UK) - A very unusual and macabre offering, using taxidermied animals as puppets in a stop motion story. A squirrel and his miniature humanoid servants come upon a magpie after it blats against the window of their house. He is invited for tea but Squirrels intentions are malevolent. Technically sound, it is let down by a confusing, messy story. 7/10

Modern No 2 (Jpn) - A refreshingly Japanese pop-y music video using blocky, angular shapes that morph in and out of each other to the thumping melody. It's bright and airy, and the music isn't bad either. 7.5/10

La Détente (Fra) - Any animation depicting the first world war trenches has to be careful not to tread on any toes, and though I think this will receive some criticism, it's not warranted. A young man in the middle of the horrors of war has a breakdown, and imagines the horrific scene in front of him made out of objects from his childhood; tin toys, cushions and bedsheets, popguns and strings of lights, as a coping mechanism. But his imagination cannot hold completely and the reality of the world seeps back in. 8/10

Hello Bambi (USA) - WTF-ery should come from Japan alone, and this seemed to be a facsimile from across the pond. Some oddly-drawn children (looking like a Pixar experimental film from 1985) cry to the funeral march tune. Somebody's Snow White doll is being led away, helped by a female Darth Vader and a DeLorean, and Thomas the Tank Engine, maybe. I really have no idea what just happened. 6/10

The Gloaming (Fra) - Ending on a high - this semi-computer generated film follows an unnamed man as he walks through a desert, finds a blob of matter, and watches it grow into a planet, and that includes a humanoid race of people who predictably find all sorts of ways to form factions and kill each other to death. Religion, capitalism, greed and jealousy are all displayed in scenes familiar to humanities past. A very well made, philosophically sensitive look at our lives. 8/10

Take Shelter (US) (site)

Take Shelter was one of only three films picked out of the hundreds to be previewed just before Wuthering Heights, the opening gala film. For this reason, I was curious to find out what had made them favour it. Set in one of the Midwestern states of the US, where Curtis, an ordinary father and husband begins having troubling dreams all with a similar theme. Thick, oily rain followed by some sort of threat on his family, often by shadowy figures trying to get him. The constant feature is an approaching, apocalyptic storm; massive angry rain-clouds and destructive twisters. It begins to take a toll on his waking life, and his perception of what is real begins to slip.

Michael Shannon plays the lead role alongside a largely unknown but talented cast, taking us on a trip through the troubled psyche of a mentally ill man, heading towards the brink and having his own mind threaten his livelihood more than the weather ever could. A tense and uncomfortable thriller, well acted and unpredictable, and a strong ending. 8/10

The Fatherless (Austria) (site)

Another film about reuniting a troubled family (see also: A Night for Dying Tigers, Wonderful Summer and Reuniting the Rubins this year alone). Although this one has a novel edge to it. Father Hans has just died, leaving a wife and four distant children, each of whom return with partners in tow to the dilapidated family house more or less immediately after hearing of the event. Thing is though, Anna was mother in name alone, as Hans was alpha male in a 1980's idealistic hippy commune, a gathering of like-minded types who didn't seem to mind him fertilizing all the women in the group. Consequently, the four siblings share a father but not a mother. Anna was the only one who stayed after the commune broke up.

Kyra is the most mysterious of the lot - she left over twenty years previous as a girl, a day or so after the troubled birth of the youngest one, Zizzi. Something made her return, especially when she said she had been 'forgiven' by her fathers dying breath.

What happened in the ground zero event that caused so many rifts is revealed slowly with flashbacks mingled in between family revalations and rediscovered trinkets, not forgetting to let a few truths get spilt for the partners to stress over for good measure. It is all well thought out and set nicely in a beautiful Austrian countryside house. The characters are well rounded if not completely appealing they at least have a believability to them and a fragility that suggests their upbringing did not reflect the ideals. It was engaging and enjoyable, and like all the best examples of the genre, makes you want to know how things continue after the end. 7.5/10

Leeds Film Festival 2011: Day 3

2011-11-05T23:36:00.006Z

Grave of the Fireflies (Jpn) (site)

Unfortunately, I missed the start of the film, but since I've seen it a few times before that's not a problem for reviewing purposes. My main reason for seeing it again is my desire to see the looks on people's faces when they leave the cinema afterwards, and the conversations you can overhear. Many people walk in unprepared, thinking that it's just a cartoon and they shouldn't expect much more than if they were watching a Disney flick.

Grave of the Fireflies is based on a semi-autobiographical book by Akiyuki Nosaka, who survived the firebombings of his home town and the subsequent obliteration of Hiroshima. Seita, a fifteen year-old boy and his younger sister, Setsuko are caught in the middle of the firebombings and in the chaos are parted from their mother, who later dies of her injuries. Forced to take shelter with their aunt, and then by themselves when she mistreats them, they are forced to live in a firebomb shelter, as their resolve and meagre food sources dry up.

The fragile beauty of innocent youth, surviving how they can while their world crumples around them. Buoyed temporarily by moments of delicately-drawn beauty and a genuine love between the two main characters, the viewer is nonetheless put through the wringer, and by the end, as you watch little Setsuko play innocently to the scratchy strains of 'there's no place like home' your eyes will be wet. 8/10

Toomelah (Aus) (site)

The aboriginal community of Toomelah has seen better days. It carries on as a mishmash of houses and caravans connected together by dirt roads and potholed pavements. Daniel is a young boy growing up in the absence of his father, who spends his time wandering round and sitting in the gutter. Mother seems half out of it, as you would expect when she's doing drugs. Father figures are few on the ground, and unfortunately the closest at hand are a group of wasters and their small-time gangster leader, Linden, the local one-stop shop for drugs Their caravan provides a refuge from the pressures of school, and it's not long before they graduate him from petty crime in GTA, to helping them out in real life.

Things turn worse when the previous pharmacist comes out of jail and looks to re-establish his patch, while at the same time muscling in on Daniel's home life by carrying on with his mum. He's confused, angry and too young to understand where he's headed.

As well as the main story, the director makes use of Aboriginal imagery and the far out staring of the elders in Daniels life to suggest a severed link to their heritage, and makes the case without saying it that it is this that is the cause of many of the problems on the screen. One scene shows the wasters talking about their totems in a way divorced from the reverence offered by their ancestors.

Though the film may put off sensitive ears - it's about as C-word crammed as you could fit in a film - it is also a sombre study of a decaying link with the past, a link sacrificed for something far less valuable for short-term gain. While that seems dark, there is also room for happiness, and a bit of humour, and the ending gives hope for the future. 7/10

Mitsuko Delivers (Jpn) (review and trailer)

Mitsuko is an oddity. A young, heavily pregnant woman who makes her decisions based on which way the wind is blowing, literally. Kind and thoughtful, but completely insane and unpredictable, it's not the best mentality to be imminently in receipt of child. Feeling some undefinable urge, she ups sticks one day and heads back to a run-down back street area of Tokyo where she spent a little of her childhood, dragged there with her parents who were fleeing from some bad debts. It's clear to see where she gets her itchy feet.

Back then it was rough and ready, but lets say it had 'character', and the personification of this was 'Granny', the landlady for several of the small rooms in the street and not someone you would want to take on. Granny clearly made an impression on Mitsuko, just as she did to Joichi, the young boy in the nearby restaurant who became infatuated. Fifteen years later. both are looking as run down as the street itself, now all but abandoned. But now Mitsuko is back, she can begin taking the world on her shoulders and sorting it all out. if only that baby would stop trying to be born.

A Japanese comedy with the usual familiar traits: overacting just seems to go with the territory in Eastern films, and Mitsuko can get a little.. passionate. But it's difficult not to enjoy it's appealing characters, bounding energy and positive storyline. It's not quite up to the form of last years' Departures, but it's a solid, fun, funny effort. 7.5/10

The River Used to be a Man (Ger) (review)

I can't tell if this film was meant to incite a degree of schadenfreude, but for me at least there was a guilty pleasure in seeing this young, arrogant and thoroughly unprepared fop get a serious wake-up call. An unnamed actor is travelling through Africa on a sabbatical, and after a couple of hairy near misses on the dark and slippery roads at night, the idea of taking a side-trip on a canoe, with a native tracker for a guide sounds like a perfect way to relax. He silently guides them through the marshlands, where landmarks are few and far between. Even if he was paying attention, which he's not he wouldn't be able to find his way back. On the trip there he spends most of it napping, and it's only round the campfire the following night deep into nowhere land, do the two actually get a conversation going.

It's a shame the guide is stone cold dead by the morning. He is lost, alone and completely unprepared. His kit? A torch and a book on birdwatching because he brought bugger all with him. Panic ensues, but at least he has enough good in him to attempt bringing the body back as well.

The rest of the film is his progress - of sorts; more by luck than skill of finding his way back. Stormy nights, angry wildlife and standoffish locals all cause him serious problems on his way, and his weak-willed attempts to get through it make you want to shout at him to get a backbone.

The idea of drifting constantly through marshes and scrub-land indistinguishable from the last bit would naturally get a bit samey after a while, and fortunately there is a bit of progress and variety to move things forward, but the film teases you, dangling little whiffs of salvation in front of you. Instead it concentrates on creating an increasingly dreamlike view where mirage and confusion trick both him and the viewer, leaving the ending deliberately ambiguous. 7/10

22nd of May (Bel) (site)

A single day, a very important day for one ordinary man. Sam gets up and leaves for work as a security guard in a Belgian shopping centre. As he stands outside, a bomb explodes within, knocking him to the ground and creating a dusty, fiery hell inside. Doing his job, he fights the ringing in his ears and heads into the smoke and flames, but after a few minutes of trying to help people, he panics and flees the scene until his legs cannot take him any further.

And then a woman who should be dead appears in front of him.

Some of the worst films I have seen start with confusion and never become clear. Some of the best films I have seen start with confusion and slowly reveal the director's vision as the film goes on. 22nd of May is certainly in the latter group. Reality and time go to pot for a while as the film keeps you guessing at what you are seeing for a while, and never spells it out for you, and it is better for not doing. I must confess I had a sinking feeling that it was turning into another Temptation of St. Tony but it was fortunately much better than that.

If I describe much more the enjoyment of the film will be spoilt, other than to say it is an ingenious attempt at manifesting the psychology of a man's torment in the real world. I would recommend this film to anyone who likes to be lightly bamboozled by what they see and have to do a little bit of the work to make the pieces fit. 8/10

Leeds Film Festival 2011: Day 2

2011-11-04T23:44:00.002Z

Summer of Goliath (Mex/Can) (review)

According to this film, middle-aged Mexican women are strange creatures. Leave your wife, and you're likely to find her crawling through a lake wearing your clothes and making a sound like a pregnant hippo. I've just spoilt the ending there, sorry.

How we got there was anyone's guess. We started with a young man (Goliath, even though thats not his real name) accused of the murder of his girlfriend. Mad woman is left alone with an older lady who bears no relation who sells tacky merchandise by handing catalogs to strangers. Two army dropouts act generally useless and idiotic, and make no impact on the goings on, other than to arse about and intimidate old men on walks. Oh, and kick trees. Two lads play and half-bully a younger one who hangs around with them. All the males call each other 'faggots'. No sense is made and no structure reveals itself.

Yesterday's blurry shots and close-up back-following returned in abundance as we followed several of them wandering pointlessly through the undergrowth, leading nowhere and doing nothing when they got there. This is accompanied by many drawn out sequences while nothing happens. Example: Mad woman asks army drop-out son to memorise a letter we have just spent several minutes watching her write out on a pad. She then goes through it several times. It's painful.

There was very little about this film to enjoy. No structure, no meaning. I guess it was meant to show us life in a typical Mexican backwater village. It succeeded in that, but unfortunately they chose to dramatize a particularly disconnected and uneventful day. 4/10

Best Intentions (Rom/Hun) (review)

Romanian cinema often has a cold edginess to it, but this is an unusually benign example of the country's output. Alex and his girlfriend Delia pause their argument-peppered existence when news of Alex's mother having a stroke comes via the phone. Jobs and appointments are abandoned and Alex heads across the country to her side. Turns out he's a bit of a mummy's boy, and his desire to perhaps make up for his absence and ensure she is alright brings him to the centre of the decision making process. Leave her in the local hospital, or go to Cluj, which apparently has a better hospital but involves a risky trip. Mother seems on-off, sometimes lucid and others plastering her whole face with lipstick before it can be wrestled from her grasp. To complicate matters, fellow patients, doctors friends and random strangers all reinforce or knock down his intentions leaving him a confused child getting nothing done.

And that's the extent of the story really, an indulgent study on what happens when a family member has a scare in hospital, and how it affects the family around them, with a slightly useless man who seems to advertise his iPhone by strapping it to his head for half the flick trying to keep control of all the threads. It's not especially exciting, but its deconstruction of a man who thought he could take control and finally realise that he could not was well made. I guess the ideal audience for this would be those in a similar situation, as I guess Alex would generate a lot of empathy from them. Others will probably get bored, or lost in the quickfire subtitles and unnecessary medical terms. 6.5/10

The Other Side of Sleep (Irl/Ned/Hun) (review)

Director Rebecca Daly was briefly present at the start, although she postponed any Q and A until it's showing tomorrow since it was getting late. Her film tells the story of Arlene, a lonely, slight girl working a menial factory job by day and confining herself to her flat by night. Inconceivably, she wakes one morning in the middle of a forest, right next to a dead girl she does not recognise. In a panic she scrambles home and cleans her dirty clothes, and tries act normal at the factory later that day. A conspicuously missing bracelet, presumably left at the scene forever threatens to expose her connection, and as her behaviour becomes ever more erratic, piling on top of a handful of stressful events, she watches helplessly as the investigation close in, and local village tongues wag at the retribution the murderer will receive.

After a strong start, the film gets bogged down a little in the middle - an area which could have been trimmed a bit and had a little pep put in, but the film as a whole is an edgy, entertaining mystery thriller. Antonia Campbell Hughes plays the ambiguous and mysterious lead just perfectly keeps the viewer in the dark about her involvement until the very end. 7.5/10

Leeds Film Festival 2011: Day 1

2011-11-03T23:02:00.005Z

What a time to get the snuffles, eh? A hefty wad of tickets sat teasing me on my desk this morning and by the evening, I'm stuck with a couple of pieces of hanky up my nose, trying to avoid the cameras as I make my way to the opening gala of the Leeds Film Festival.

Like a carbon copy of last year, but with different free booze, the entrance to Leeds Town Hall was crammed with eager film-goers waiting for it all to start. I notice a few familiar faces in the crowd from previous fests, and the odd glance of recognition is exchanged. We file our way into the main hall and I manage to plonk myself in my favourite seat.

It's the same venue, so again we had to contend with some iffy acoustics, but I've complained about this before, so I won't go on. We just had to make the best of it.

Wuthering Heights (UK) (wiki/site)

Director Andrea Arnold gets the honour of opening the festival with her next film after last years' Fish Tank (which unfortunately I happened to miss). After Arnold and a locally picked lineup of the film's stars suffered a rowdier than necessary reception from some idiots up in the rafters, (who got told to shut up, earning the director another round of applause from the rest of us,) perennial festival organiser Chris Fell got out of the way and the film began.

Once I heard that Wuthering Heights was getting a showing, I made sure my next book would be from my library of cheap classics that over several years I am slowly making my way through. It's a proper classic, and though the period style of vocab-rich chatter can take an initial adjustment period, it's one of those passionate page-turners that earns it's reputation.

Arnolds film attempts to bring the 300-ish pages of thick velvety prose and multi-generational love-hate tale down to a two hour film, and as you would expect, some elements are sacrificed. Not the location, of course. It's filmed entirely on the Yorkshire moors in all their foggy, muddy, gritty glory. Or the perceived living conditions which are lifted straight from the pages, faithfully painting a picture of the Heights as a semi-barbaric place that barely accommodates the living as so many seem to cough and die there. (Indeed, perhaps with tongue in cheek, Arnold signifies the imminent demise of several of the characters by them suddenly having a terrible cough, and croaking almost in the next scene, something parodied several times in popular culture.) What does go is the gentility and complexity of the script; whereas the book is filled with intricate conversations between the characters, these are reduced to their absolute minimum, and without the cut-glass accents and reservation of swearing you might expect either. Consequently the film loses some of the beauty that could have potentially been realised on the screen.

For those who haven't read the book, it tells the story of Heathcliff, a dark-skinned boy brought into Wuthering Heights - a remote farmhouse way up on the hills, cut off from the rest of the world in rain and snow. Treated badly at the start by the occupants - except for Mr. Earnshaw who brought him in, and his daughter Catherine, a wayward minx of a child who takes a shine to him. Slowly however his meagre comforts are removed, and when Catherine gives her hand to another, Heathcliff flees, vowing revenge on all who have done him bad. When he returns, he wreaks havok on the lives of all, regardless of whether they had done bad by him or not.

Though the story includes the lives of several generations of the Earnshaw family, and the partners in their entwined fate, the Lintons in nearby Thrushcross Grange, the film strips this down also, concentrating only on the feverish relationship between Catherine and Heathcliff and largely forgetting the rest. Mr Lockwood, in the position of the reader as the unfortunate man who stumbles on the households some years later is removed entirely, and the narrator of the bulk of the piece - the servant and diplomatic linchpin Ellen is only a background character. Consequently, what could possibly be seen as the most iconic scene from the book - the spooky and feverish hallucination of Lockwood as he spends the night in Cathy's room and feels an icy hand on his - is missing.

Is what remains any good? That will depend I think on whether you have read the book. I felt disappointed at the minimal script that was only loosely tied to the original, and some of the language (not only the clumsiness of the wording, but also all the jeffing going on!) felt very out of place and quite jarring. The camera work was a bit annoying too. A lot of fuzzy close-up shots where the cameraman was drunk or getting too familiar with the backs of the actors, interspersed with shots of the various fauna. It wore down the patience after a while.

So.. yeah. I wouldn't say it was bad, but there were several troubling elements that might have seemed less so without the words being fresh in my mind, mixed with a general feeling that too much had been cut out. There is a raw, bleeding passion present in the film, but it is of a less intensive, shallower kind than that achieved in the book, and despite the adult Cathy being played by the distractingly beautiful Kaya Scodelario (whose eyes could melt even Heathcliff's stony heart), it's not a film I would want to spend a second pair of hours re-watching. 7/10

Update: In the cold light of day, looking through some previous reviews of mine that got the same score (and were better films), Anonymous's post caused a rethink. 6/10

Before the flood

2011-11-02T21:22:00.000Z

It will soon be festival time and then there will be so many films, so why I squeeze others in is beyond me. Oh well.

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (UK) (site)

John Le Carré's substantial novel makes ambitious subject matter for a film, and trying to fit it into a couple of hours was going to be difficult, even with Le Carré himself on board. Not only that, but it's dense, term-laden script would, if handled wrong either alienate fans of the work, or make the storyline impenetrable for those unfamiliar with George Smiley.

The film walks the line between both, and seems to err towards the latter. The viewer is given no concessions, and is piled straight into the thick, soupy spy scenario. A secret agent working for the British Intelligence Agency is shot and supposedly killed as he attempts to retrieve intelligence on a mission in Budapest. This is shown as flashback, and 'Control' - the head of the SIS and overseer to the handful of divisions including Smiley's, has to find a scapegoat. Smiley gets the chop.

At some time afterwards, a reshuffling has occurred since Control topped himself, but it seems that the balance of power has shifted and iffy goings on are afoot in the upper floors of the agency, and Smiley is asked back to investigate rumblings of supposed Russian dealings, that might go right to the top of the organisation. Things get hotter when Tarr, a supposed loose canon who went missing in Istanbul after reporting the mole winds up in his apartment, with tales of odd reactions and assassination attempts.

Whether you view a meaty plotline that won't be obvious until you've either read the book (I haven't) or watched the film a few times, will dictate your enjoyment of this film. I confess I was a little lost at times, although the film does take it's time to flesh out some key scenes in powerful silence. These are, after all, a bunch of middle-aged men in 1960's Britain - there was never going to be a hard rock soundtrack. What it lacked in action movie mayhem, it more than made up for in style and atmosphere. Gary Oldman was unrecognisable but perfect for Smiley, John Hurt played a brief but pleasingly grumpy Control, and the casting choices for the rest of the rather large array of characters were spot on. The tempered colour schemes and drab weather put us right in the middle of Le Carré's universe, feeling both cosy and dangerous at the same time.

I would very much like to catch this film at least once more to get a hold of the bits I missed the first time around, and it has also encouraged me to spend some time looking up the rest of the Smiley stories.

The Adventures of Tintin (US) (wiki/site)

There were good signs with this film. Steven Spielberg and Peter Jackson at the helm, Simon Pegg and Nick Frost as the Thompson twins, and a pretty decent looking trailer that showed the film wasn't aimed so much at kids, as adults who grew up with the books and cartoons.

So was it any good? Yes, I think it was. Once you get over the slight creepiness of the lifelike-yet-still-cartoon style of animation similar to that in the Polar Express (which is very impressive by the way) you begin to get an appreciation of how much work has gone into the picture; from the more traditionally animated opening segment to the little references here and there to the originals. Adults over a certain age will find themselves with a big grin on their faces.

As said, the action stays faithful to the 'feel' (seriousness/time period/locations) of the original. No Thunderbirds-style modern Americanisation here. It is set quite early on in the Tintin universe, as it is mostly concerned with him meeting with Captain Haddock, who happens to hold the secret to a massive treasure hidden by his pirate ancestor. Like a European Indiana Jones, it has a fine mix of secret agents and bad guys and international travel pitched at a level just complicated enough to entertain the adults but not confuse the children; and though the director has been tempted make use of computing power to insert a few action scenes that look out of place when compared to the original source material, this doesn't distract enough to spoil the film. It ends with the promise of a sequel, and by this point I was fully happy to go see one.

There was really only one problem with the film, and that was the slimmed-down list of characters from the books, which aside from Tintin and Snowy, consisted only Haddock and the satisfyingly bumbling Thompson twins. Hopefully though, if a sequel happens we'll get some of the others too. 8/10

I've Done This

2011-11-01T17:00:00.000Z

And so have quite a few others, to my surprise. I think I shall do it again, after hearing this guy list the reasons.

How many times has a wad of junk mail dropped through your letter box, asking you AGAIN whether you'd like a loan, or offering a free shiny pen set for signing your life away? Plenty, I would guess. I confess that after a particularly stressful time at work, one such establishment received retribution in the form of their business reply envelope being stuffed with other junk mail (with identifying data carefully removed of course), and just in case they were a bit hungry, last nights potato peelings, topped off with a few application forms filled in entirely with swear words.

It turns out I revert to a teenager's mentality when sufficiently annoyed.

But it seems, give or take a cuss-word, that I am not alone, and the tactic can be modified to allow us armchair Occupy activists to do our bit. Give a bit of much needed cash to the Post Office, make (some) use of all that paper, have a bit of a dig at the banks, and keep them busy at their own expense.

Still Nothing

2011-10-26T21:05:00.003+01:00

Every day after work I dread to hear the shuffle of front door swinging against letters on the hall floor. But every day so far, after that 'final demand' has thus yielded no nasty letters requiring me to head to a place of justice. The six month rule, (which I hope applies) is 3/4 gone. Have they given up on the chase, or will they make me wait right up until Christmas time? Damn them for keeping me guessing.

Pre-Festival Film Warmup

2011-10-25T20:01:00.009+01:00

I love the Hyde Park Picture House. It's a jewel poking out of the tatty remains of Headingley's student quarter, a relic of a bygone age that takes you back a half-century to the velvet panelling, flickery gas-lighting and theatre-style layout of old. Beloved by the film-goers and seemingly by the community alike, it shows a steady mix of contemporary, indie and retrospective films in it's cosy one-screen hall.

It's especially worth visiting at film festival time; a little bit from the Bradford one, but mostly from the Leeds Film Festival, which is about to start. I have my festival pass and stack of tickets at the ready in front of me, but before that all starts and sleep becomes a luxury, there was just time to fit in an extra visit for a trio of films showing as part of a special film night. Tyrannosaur was first up, and since I wanted to see it as well I got there early to catch that as well, but for the two main acts that night - Moon and Galaxy Quest, whose common space theme became the basis for the cinema to do 'Creatures of the Moon' - a variant on their usual Creatures of the Night Saturday evening slot; both a mini celebration of space on film, and a paean to the winding down of western space exploration. At least for the time being anyway.

A young lady dressed in.. well I'm not sure - ushered us in. There were yellow blobs of something attached to her head and various parts of her body, fortunately accompanied by a shiny dress to avoid embarrassment - I didn't ingratiate myself by asking if she had come as one of the planets and instead smiled sweetly as I headed to the bar, where said lady had enthusiastically provided a bowl of flying saucer sweets, and a pile of spacy-painted cakes. Since cake is good, I chose one (sprinklings always good) and was pleasantly surprised to find they were gratis. I went in and supped a cup of tea and waited for the films to start. As people began to file in, home-made streamers with a stars and planets theme were taped to the doors, and a selection of space-related tunes soothed me half to sleep in the background. It was, after all about 10:30 and there were two films to see yet.

But I'm getting ahead of myself...

Tyrannosaur (UK) (wiki)

Though I was well aware of the dark subject matter, I knew that this film was getting some high praise. I was interested to see what the lovely Olivia Colman would do in her first major straight film role. But also, it had a local significance, being filmed and set on the outskirts of Leeds.

Peter Mullan is Joseph, who we are given a judgemental introduction to at the start of the film, where, having lost his weekly income in the pub and the betting shop, takes out his anger on his faithful dog who is sat waiting and whimpering for him outside. Kicking the poor thing half to death when it doesn't do as he wants, this immediate and shocking summary of his current mental state is matched in the next scenes by his remorse, carrying the dog home and caring for it through the night, during which we see the dogs eyes glance into his, before the paw goes limp. A broken man digs a hole in his lawn in the early morning light.

Not an easy thing to watch, and not a good advert for a film.

Alcohol and abusive estate kids, and fat posers with bulldogs from across the street all stir his anger up, and in his more lucid moments he - barely - keeps a lid on things, knowing it is destroying him; since a good hammering with falling-over water is the default daytime state, Joseph finds a local charity shop to hide in when the local lads come looking for revenge. Like a cornered animal, he lashes out at Olivia Colmans' Hannah - the religiously-inclined shop owner - as she tries to coax him from within the clothes pile.

After he calms down and regains some composure from the shock of someone treating him with compassion, the two slowly start a fragile friendship. As well as uncovering Josephs' past and how he has ended up the way he has, we see that Hannah has her own demons to deal with in the form of her husband James, whose brooding presence in her life is only slowly revealed to be the shockingly abusive soul she clings onto.

Several themes play through the film, including a peppering of religious symbolism and the crutch it can give to a stressful life, and the limits of human tolerance to suffering. Tyrannosaur is both powerfully dark and darkly comic; to talk of this as purely a film of broken people and miserable lives would be to sell it short. There are moments of beauty and mirth and most of the characters, though often horrible have likeable sides to them. The music is melancholic and sublime and fits the film perfectly. The direction of the story, though linear is pretty unpredictable, and the shocking ending has both a feeling of redemption and completion to it that will stay in the mind long after the film ends. In fact it was only after the end that I was able to digest just how well the films parts fit together. My only gripe was the title, which although it's origin was briefly explained in the film, never felt as if it represented what the film was about. Other than that: cracking. 8/10

-----

Planet woman came to the stage and, announcing to the audience that the fancy dress had been cancelled (word had clearly not got around as no-one had dressed up), and we would be seeing Galaxy Quest first, followed by a little surprise, and then Moon. I'd hoped it would be the other way around, since at least then I could leave early if I was too knackered as I had seen GQ, but what the hell.

Galaxy Quest (US) (wiki)

I honestly struggle to name many films that show Sigourney Weaver in a sexy light, but somehow Galaxy Quest manages it like no other. Not the biggest film of the new millennium, it has matured over the years and even though I must have seen it a half-dozen times since, it still gave me a big laugh.

Tim Allen, in maybe his only funny role beyond Toy Story - is Jason, or 'Commander Taggart' - the Kirk to Sigourney Weavers' Uhura, Alan Rickmans' Spock and Daryl Mitchells' Checkov. A pre-Monk Tony Shalhoub plays a Scotty-style Sgt Chen, and Sam Rockwell gets a part as the poor guy who would get the red jumper in that other show. They all starred in a fictional 80's space exploration series, and make their pitiful livings visiting conventions where they patiently answer the minutiae interpretive questions of a hall-full of geeks as they wait for their respective agents to find them something to get them out of there. In other words, the anticipated hell of a bunch of second-rate actors whose best days are behind them.

On the verge of splitting up due to their infighting, they leave Jason alone and inebriated, where he is approached by real aliens, who have watched the series and mistake it for actual space-based justice-dealing, have built him a ship to the spec from the film, and want him to kill off some aliens who happen to be threatening their planet.

You can guess the rest - getting the others on board, failing miserably, working together and beating the bad guys second time round, etc. It doesn't try to be original - it is half-parodying, half-celebrating Star Trek after all. And its this glorious wallowing in nostalgia and naffness, while at the same time having a story of its own that is it's genius. I'm so glad I got to see it on the big screen once more. 8/10

Whistle (UK) - Our 'surprise' was an overly-long short film about a man who acts as a hi-tech assassin from the comfort of his own home. A laser-guided rocket thingy and a google maps-style targeting system allows him to get a shot at anyone, although once he has pressed the fire button it kinda assumes the target will stand still for the few minutes it takes for the rocket to hit. One day, it doesn't and rather than killing the nasty old terrorist it takes out his daughter in his arms as well. And.. oh it was bad. A ham-acted, mishmash of other films with a clumsy morality message tacked on as an afterthought. Sorry, but no. 4/10

Moon (UK) (wiki/site)

Well past midnight is not the time to be sat waiting for a film, but my second cuppa (and cake) were keeping me awake enough to see this through. Moon slipped through the net at last years' festivals, and so I was not going to miss it again. As well as sharing a space theme with Galaxy Quest, Moon also starred Sam Rockwell, who aside from the voice of Kevin Spacey and a couple of brief parts on the monitor screens were the only characters in the film. Yes, the plural was intentional.

Rockwell plays Sam Bell, a lone technician on a three-year contract, working on the surface of the moon as a maintenance guy in a mostly automated mining getup, that has in the near future, solved most of the energy problems for the inhabitants of earth. Every day he checks dials and sends off the rockets back to earth when the mineral containers are full. Occasionally he has to head out onto the surface to check on the massive unmanned harvesters that are extracting the minerals from the lunar soil. His only companion is a Hal-like computer, whose creepy emoticon faces are matched by Kevin Spaceys creepy-friendly-next-door-neighbour voice, just to set the viewer a bit on edge that he might go mental and suck all the air out of the room at a moment's notice.

Nearing the end of his tenure, Sam begins to notice odd things, and they are cleverly played so that the viewer doesn't quite know what to make of them too. A fleeting figure in the lunar dust, or a section chopped out of a transmission from his girlfriend. Something doesn't quite make sense but neither Sam nor the audience have any clue until an accident with one of the harvesters leaves him put up in sick bay, not knowing what happened, or how he managed to return from the surface.

To say more would give too much away, but this film's obvious resemblance to 2001 is played well, encouraging the viewer to consider the roles from that film when trying to work out what will happen here. Wisely, that is folly, and Moon gives up it's secrets slowly and methodically, allowing us time to work through in our heads how what we have seen slowly starts to make sense. Though, once the main twist has been worked through there are few other surprises to take the viewer in new directions, there seems to be enough here for one story and with a definite beginning, middle and ending has a satisfying feel. 7.5/10

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By now, it was 3:15am. Not even the festival has kept me watching flicks so late! I sped home, during which I managed to count in the region of 30 taxis on the roads ferrying people to their homes before I saw a private car. But I'm really glad I caught them and will be looking out for some of their other creatures of the night specials.

Leeds Film Festival 2011 and Leeds Abbey Dash

2011-10-14T20:58:00.004+01:00

I have an effective way of ensuring that I prematurely age at several times throughout the year. At it's most potent, it coincides with the Leeds Film Festival, which after dealing with some brochure film time vs. website film time issues (seriously - if you have booked your films based on the web version, make sure you double check as some are way off) I have a solid schedule of about 50 films, which if I do the usual thing and cheat and treat all the short films separately, should make the ton. Wouldn't want to go too over the top, after all.

As with Cambridge, there is a feeling of cutting back this year at Leeds, thanks to our lovely recession situation. It's not severe, but the films list cuts out some earlier and later showings from the usual schedule, and contains a few films, reshown from previous fests. Not that I'm complaining too much - both Detroit Metal City (review) and Big Man Japan had me in tears of laughter in 2007/8, Waltz with Bashir is an intelligent muse on the experiences of war and Persepolis is a beautiful and honest labour of love. They also have classic films like Close Encounters of the Third Kind, The Day the Earth Stood Still, Psycho and Invasion of the Bodysnatchers. They even have a showing of the Ghibli film Grave of the Fireflies, just in case you'd forgotten about the face-slapping potential of the medium. My schedule contains some of these films, but I'll be concentrating on their newer output, of which there is still plenty.

But also - as usual - it clashes with the Leeds Abbey Dash, which takes place on the last day, so I will squeeze back into my shorts, put on my tatty trainers and do one final 10k before the year gets too bad for it, as a final send off to the festival. Best get back into the groove then..

Alices Run 2011 Result

2011-09-28T23:27:00.005+01:00

So, I also managed to do Alices' Run this year. Set around Mytholmroyd, it is an on- and off-road 10K race that involves a lot of hills, slippy northern cobblestones, and quite a few potholes. I don't want to make excuses, but I have some anyway: I was knackered from all my gardening (still!), there was little time to go jogging, and I had just come back from an enjoyable time in Edinburgh, where the diet was rich in lovely, yummy fatty things.

Frankly a time of 1:09 was pretty good, given the circumstances - until my boss pointed out to me that a guy in his seventies managed to finish two minutes faster.

Truth or Reassurance

2011-09-28T21:57:00.011+01:00

Over the course of the past several years since moving in, I have been the recipient of 'the good news' several times. In conversations distinguishable only by slightly varying opening gambits, the purveyors du jour of the Watchtower share with me their thoughts, or at least those thoughts that don't involve telling me how I will be going to hell if I don't repent my ways.

I was visited once more a little while back. A middle-aged man with a local accent stood next to a squat, white-haired older gent who I would later discover when he finally spoke, to be American, possibly on a trip over to see how his English brethren are getting along at brainwashing the unwary.

The conversation started predictably with all the wrongs in the world, and whether I was religious, and quickly moved along to matters of creation and the 'crisis that evolution was in'. There was the usual back and forth of finding watches on the floor, hurricanes blowing through a scrapyard, and theories versus proofs. A transcript would read like a thousand impassioned internet discussions.

But one thing stood out that day. Throughout the experience, I was assured that the men stood before me represented a movement that stood for the truth, a fundamental value in a faith system whose people were able to see with eyes unclouded, unlike those from 'the other religions' - the stark reality of what is out there. Those people who have looked on the world, seen the evidence for and against this and that, and come to the wholly rational conclusion that young-earth creationism explains fully our existence. On a particular point of evolutionary development we moved onto the subject of whales. In particular, their hind limbs, a vestigial part of their anatomy that is a tell-tale sign that they are descended from four-legged, land-dwelling animals. Long-since encased in the whales' immense blubber, they have no other reason to be there other than an artefact of their past.

Upon questioning, I was assured that the younger man had indeed visited the Natural History Museum, and he was fully clued up on evolutionary theory - in fact he assured me he was an expert.

I asked him about the hind legs of a whale. He shook his head. 'Whales don't have hind legs', he said with a snort.

I assured him that they did, but they were encased in blubber, and were a perfect example of an evolutionary adaptation to life in the sea, mentioning on the way that, current whales are a living example of an intermediate species - between a long-extinct land mammal with legs, and a future whale-like creature whose legs have completely disappeared.

Again, he shook his head. The elderly American gent folded his arms. It was clear that this information was encroaching on their cosy worldview, so I gave it another little shake.

'You can look on the internet, or in any museum where a whale skeleton is on display. They even looked at one on the 'Inside Natures Giant's' series. You say you have no proof of evolutionary change - well here is an example of something that you can see for yourself with your own eyes.'

Both men stood there, in silence. The older man was silent. The younger man, who I had spent most of the time talking to and thus getting the brunt of my passions had his arms tightly crossed. He was smiling a painted smile and shaking his head.

And then it hit me.

It was kind of obvious in retrospect that 'the truth' isn't really what these guys are interested in finding - a statement given more weight with their quip shortly afterwards that they 'didn't like the idea of having a monkey for an ancestor' - but in that moment it became clear to me just what it was that they wanted. 'The truth' was only something that had value to them if it did not go against their doctrine. In other cases, it was something else they desired - a form of reassurance.

The Jehovas' Witnesses are a minor cult whose beliefs are a bit left field of a major religion. Consequently their groups are isolated and naturally under pressure by the lives of people around them who seem to live happy lives seemingly without godly retribution. A bit of basic group psychology on your average cult identifies two main actions applied by the group on itself - maintain the integrity and stability of the group in the face of outside influence, and find inner peace that by joining the group, the individual has made the right decision.

The first one takes the form of the leaders often forcing their flock to renounce ties with the outside world, often at the cost of friends and family units being abandoned as they are deemed to be a corrosive influence, or even labelled 'mentally diseased'. This causes the members to have less opportunity to get outside influence that might make them have doubts and ask questions.

The second action comes from the individual, vindicating their choice to believe in the required doctrines, by getting other people to believe in them too. And it was this that was happening here. The 'truth' - that thing that can in certain circumstances be demonstrated with empirical evidence - only had value for as long as it could be made to look like it agreed with their beliefs - a growing consensus on the acceptance of their beliefs was their one true goal.

It almost doesn't matter what it is they are believing in, so long as they can feel cosy within the warming embrace of a group of like-minded thinkers, and this can be more or less applied to all religious groups, though it seems stronger in the smaller, tighter communities. These feelings of belonging are addictive, and it is this that ensures the survival of the cult through the generations, almost like a living entity. And of course as soon as they detected that they were about to have their eyes forcibly opened like in the example of the whale bones, they stopped dead in their tracks and went no further. Certain excommunication from their group was too much of a risk to chance taking it any further.

The conversation ended on a stalemate not long afterwards, but I was strangely satisfied with what I had learned. I held onto the hope that the two men had a spark of doubt that their faith was the all-providing security blanket they thought it was, but it looked pretty unlikely in the light of my minor revelation. Still, the mystery of why some people join these religions and spend a good portion of their lives trying to convert others was a little clearer now.

I Will Not be a Revenue Stream

2011-09-03T13:01:00.010+01:00

This has been vexing and stressing me out for a while now. A couple of months back, my local railway station was packed out, and being late for work I stuck the old jalopy in the only place I could - down one of the barriers at the side of the car park, leaving a gnats crotchet of space between the car and the barrier so I was not blocking anyone from getting in or out. I've parked here a dozen times when there was no space elsewhere. In fact, a whole line of cars can do it without causing a problem.

You know what I was going to find on my return. Yes, a ticket. Despite the fact that people had parked in these spots for years on end with no recriminations, and there was nothing on the barrier or road to say 'don't park here'. The closest sign was across the area; a small notice, with verbose, poorly written text which I didn't spot when running for the train like a madman that morning, and that I actually had to stand and squint to read the following morning since it was halfway up a lamppost.

I was in a pretty sour mood, not least because this reminded me of a ticket I was issued in Cambridge a few years back. Staying at a B+B, they had a system set up with the council for visitors: I paid the owner a quid per day and I could get a parking permit to park outside. But on my second day, she had run out of permit cards, and so scribbled out the old date on the card from day one and put the new date on. I hesitantly paid my quid for the day but was assured it would be fine, and headed to the film festival.

Guess what. A £50 fine was waiting for me when I returned. Not knowing any better, I spent some premium rate phone time explaining the situation to a council representative who listened patiently and then chanted the mantra 'you still have to pay the fine'. Through gritted teeth I wrote the cheque.

But this time, I had recalled some stuff Martin Lewis was saying on the subject on his web site (always a good place to go if you want to save some cash). My car was parked on private land, so the ticket is not issued by the council or the police, but by a private company. Thus it's part of the largely unregulated private parking industry. That means they are free to pretty much do what they want, but it also means that we as the public can do the same too. Thus there is an awful lot of room to refute any charge you happen to find in a sticky envelope later that day.

Martin Lewis has got a page dedicated to this wholly inexact science of parking fines. I read up about my rights and what I should do, and downloaded his template letter to use as a basis for my case. I had several points in my favour:

My car was not blocking access. Since the ticket said I was, it is immediately null and void as it's incorrectly issued.
It was not parked in a spot where it said I couldn't park. No signs, no markings.
The notices were inadequate, poorly written, hard to spot and could be interpreted a number of ways.
The catch-all: Parking is free, and one of the few rules set out to these firms is that the fine must reimburse the landowner for the trouble caused. £50 was way over the top, as the landowner lost nothing, and I didn't cause any trouble.

I took some pictures of the sign and where I'd parked, and sent it off. I heard nothing for a month or so.

Just as I was hoping that it had disappeared I got a letter. A very patient woman had took the time to write back addressing some of the points I'd raised and seemed to concede at least that I had a point about the severity of the fine. She cut the fine in half, to £25. I should pay promptly.

One half of my brain said: 'Victory! Pay and have done with it'. The other half said stick to your guns. To pay would be an admission of wrongdoing, which I am adamant that I have not. I had not parked illegally, I was not blocking others or causing a hazard. Thanks to the dime bar who wrote the notices, I could easily argue that I had not broke any rules as laid out in their verbose signage. Finally, since this department rep had only answered some of the points in my letter, and inadequately countered some of the others in my opinion, I decided to call their bluff and ignored the request, suppressing the urge to send another letter telling them what was deficient with their response.

Which brings us to the present day. About a month went by, and now I have in front of me a 'Final Demand' notice. It's one of those template things with my details filled in. However, it is a carbon copy of the one that this guy received after going through a similar kerfuffle. He is about a month ahead of me in the chain and sticking to his principles, so I have chosen once more to ignore the 14-day notice, on the reasoning of the other responders to that thread.

To be honest, I'm bricking it a bit. They mention court proceedings and byway notices and fines with a few zeroes on the end, but it stands to reason that these people are calling my bluff and I need to keep calling theirs. A court proceeding will result in more then £50 on their end, especially as I intend not to lose, and they're doing an awful lot of 'considering legal action' given that I had to cough up the cash ages ago. To lose such a court case wouldn't look good for them either, I'm betting they would much rather calmly drop it.

Most people who receive these penalties will choose to cough up either straight away or after the first round of explanations when scary key words like 'court' and 'bylaw' start to crop up. That is where the revenue comes from, and the private company tasked with netting all this cash will act as threatening as they can get away with on their correspondence to ensure they get their pay. However, they are not the law and do not represent it and this is easy to forget. The worst they can claim is in the small claims court, and they need to have a good case to win it. And that's expensive.

Ergo, I have reasoned that I should not pay.

They have about 3 months left to take action or they lose by default. I will keep you posted.

Losing my Fringe Virginity

2011-09-01T21:49:00.009+01:00

One of many excuses I have for my lax blogging of recent (sorry) is that I have been spending time with a rather gorgeous, funny and sexy woman whose constant smiley face has caused me to forget large portions of my life in the pursuit of fun times together. Consequently my bloggage went down the pan a bit.

However, for various reasons, we have a quiet patch coming up until Christmas, where we will be jetting off round the other side of the world. No, not Japan this time (although I hope to persuade her at some point of it's merits), but somewhere hotter and more exotic. I'll say more nearer the time.

So, we have just got back from a week in Scotland - our first major time off together, seeing whether we gel, or whether we drove each other nuts. We chose this week to take in the sights and sounds of the fantastic Edinburgh Fringe Festival. We were both fringe virgins, (which was appropriate since Virgin were covering the place with blanket sponsorship) and so was a completely new experience for the both of us. We watched a few plays, went to some music gigs, but mostly it was the comedy that took up our days. Just about everyone you could think of was there, and that only made up a fraction of the acts.

In the evenings we retired to our little pod in the cheekily-titled Adventure in the Meadow campsite, a place full of teetering wooden tents and outside washing facilities. It looked half complete and some people's pods were down a track in a mud pit, but we got lucky with ours as it was right next to the main house and largely on the level, so it was for the most part pretty reasonable, and their breakfasts were big enough to be able to hold down a medium sized carnivore. A quick jaunt to the nearby park and ride, and we could saunter in on Edinburgh's excellent bus system for midday.

Some Highlights

Our choices of acts were almost universally brilliant. After missing the delights of sound machine Michael Winslow (Police Academy), we started with the unusual but excellent poet and comedian Tim Key, who in amongst recitals of his usual brand of existential humour, dunked his head and more in the foamy bath he had placed on the stage in front of us.

The pin in the catalogue choice Laundry Boy turned out to be another highlight. It was a really well performed play about a lonely man who grew up leaving his childhood dreams behind and blaming his father, while forming intimate relations with a vacuum cleaner. All the actors were excellent and didn't put a foot wrong in their performance.

David Sedaris, for anyone who has heard him on Radio 4 was hilarious; building up the humour - a mix of gentle and quietly anarchic - in stages until the audience was completely helpless. At the end, I got a booked signed by him and had a quick chat! It was worth the queue.

Mr. Darwins Tree was a fine play that we caught on it's last day. Performed entirely by Andrew Harrison, he charted with passion the life of the man and his work, bringing over just a little of the personal struggles he faced along the way.

Sarah Millican and Andy Parsons were both headline acts at the assembly halls and managed to pack the place out both times. They were as funny as ever (at one point I had actually become unable to laugh any more), although SM had toned things down since I managed to see her earlier in the year which may have been for the best. Dave Gorman narrowly beat them both though, packing out the university with his powerpoint presentation, a much welcome return to his roots. I can't walk past an advert for a phone without scrutinising it now.

There was also Lights, Camera, Walkies - a pretty good play about a movie where the main part is a dog - without any dogs present. Many characters played by just three actors who all earned their pay. Elsa Jean McTaggart was our only music act, and though she had a strong but velvety singing voice and could set the strings of her violin and guitar alight with her playing, the small audience she attracted in the mid afternoon didn't do her justice.

Tim Vine chatted with members of the audience who were unlucky enough to be picked and had a guest spot by Brian May, and Henning Wehn managed to make a mockery out of our view that the Germans have no sense of humour. Robin Ince had a gig in the Free Fringe section which was brilliant value. Not only did we get the Ince, but several other fringe acts, including Dave Gorman, came on and did a bit of stand-up too. (at the end, I also asked about Nerdstock since it was missing last year - and it's back on!). Finally, the Free Fringe also turned up Fraser Millwards, who played a copper, a relationship counsellor and a coach driver - the latter bundling the audience outside to the coach that had been 'stolen' - and nearly getting himself hilariously knocked down (in an unscripted way) while running off in all directions looking for it.

Finally - also in the Free Fringe - The Gherkin Fantasies were a pair of comedians who we went in to see on a whim and they turned out to be refreshingly Yorkshire, which obviously scored points with us - although they were also very funny in their own right too, playing a pair of middle-aged male butchers, among other creations. I'd put a safe bet on that they will be on the telly in a couple of years.

There was really only one rubbish one, and that we had managed to go into thinking it was something else. The Culture Bucket quartet reviewed other shows on a daily basis, and I'm guessing that it changed daily, so they had little time to practice or even make their show - but it was a pretty dire thing to watch even so. We stayed to the end but scrambled for the door as soon as we could.

------------

After staying an extra day to catch some additional acts, we headed out into the Scottish Highlands. Our time was a little constrained, but we managed to head up to Loch Lomond

(a beautiful place where we were attacked for our sandwiches as we sat on the beach by an overly-confident swan family) before ending up at a pleasant little B+B in Arrochar, located snugly in a valley at the tip of Loch Long in the shadow of it's own set of alps.

On the next day we drove a little down the length of the Loch, before ending up at Benmore; one of the four Edinburgh Botanical Gardens.

Out here we would have expected it to be dead, but a coachload of passengers got in front of us in the queue to get in. Inside is a mixture of nicely kept mansion gardens, with hillside pathways and a wilder flora. The view from the platform at the top is beautiful and as quiet as you could ever experience.

We took the ferry at Hunters Quay back to the mainland and headed home just as the heavens had opened and the rain was falling harder than I'd ever seen it.

We both loved our first Fringe, and it definitely wont be the last. We are already planning on how to fit it in next year!

Biscuit Bass

2011-07-01T15:32:00.001+01:00

A wobbly, biscuity thing of fantastic. ness.

Anything that brings those two idiots down a peg or two gets my vote.

(via swedemason@b3ta)

Leeds 10k Race Result

2011-06-20T20:13:00.002+01:00

This year's Jane Tomlinson Leeds 10k was nearly a miss this year, partly because up to only a couple of minutes before the start it was teeming with rain, but mostly because - thanks to my over-zealous efforts at the Leeds Half Marathon and the Hull 10k the week afterwards, I managed to partially rupture my Achilles Tendon. Even on the morning it was very stiff and I still have a noticeable limp. But this was the fifth year of the Leeds 10k and I was determined to do it, at a steady pace if nothing else.

So I was quite pleased when the rain stopped just long enough to get round in a reasonably on-pace 1:04:25, and so far, with no repercussions to speak of aside from a little swelling. My total raised for charity was a big fat zero, because I really wasn't sure if I would be ready in time (the doc advised against it), but there is the York 10k at the end of July, where people will be duly pestered once again.

EIFF 2011 - Day 4

2011-06-19T18:33:00.004+01:00

The Borrower Arrietty (Jpn) (site/wiki)

I saw this while in Japan, and although it was in unsubbed Japanese it was pretty easy to get the main body of the storyline. So I was interested in seeing what an English voice cast would be able to manage. The Disney translations of the Ghibli films started out a little choppy (Kiki and Laputa especially received some pretty fundamental changes to their script and even their soundtracks) but eventually the translators listened to common sense and the later ones have remained pretty faithful.

What did they do with this one? No idea. When the curtain went up and the shimmering TOHO logo appeared rather than the Disney one, it was clear we were getting the Japanese one again with subtitles. I'm actually quite happy personally, as the change in language might have been a bit distracting, but there was the odd intake of breath from audience members realising they would have to do a bit of reading, especially from the [largely well-behaved it has to be said] young ones in the audience. After a moment or two everyone settled into the subs and it proceeded swimmingly.

Kuragurashi no Arrietty is based on the Borrowers stories by Mary Norton. Arrietty is a young borrower from a family living in the floorboards of a country house in Tokyo. She is just reaching the age where she can take care of herself, and is looking forward to her first 'borrowing' trip accompanied by her father Pod, padding silent and unnoticed through the walls and behind vases of the house to get a few supplies. After a promising start, she is spotted by Sho, a boy visiting his aunt Sadako who lives in the house and maintains it for Sho's absent family. Sho is sick and awaiting a heart operation, but is still viewed with fear and suspicion as a threat to the safety of the borrower family. With perseverance, Sho begins to earn Arriettys' trust, but aunt Sadako's suspicions are raised and maybe she will at last encounter one of these house pests before they steal anything else.

Arrietty is a return to a more contemporary setting for the Ghibli films, which puts it into a group with my particular favourites, such as Only Yesterday and Whisper of the Heart. It's as usual beautifully drawn, with Kazuo Oga providing his trademark backgrounds and Miyazaki himself doing the screenplay, although he stepped aside from directing to give the up and coming Hiromasa Yonabayashi a turn. You can even spot a trace of the much missed Yoshifumi Kondo in the art style, which after films such as Sen and Ponyo, took a bit of a back seat. As you can probably tell, I loved it. A beautiful story, gentle soundtrack and appealing hand-drawn visuals with little if any computers used. It even has a strong ending, which is where some Ghibli films have occasionally fallen short.

I can't see any problems with the translation when it is eventually screened. Although the story is more mature and delicate than the John Goodman Borrowers film (which by comparison went little beyond a procession of slapstick encounters) there was nothing in this one that might need altering for an English-speaking audience due to sensitive issues or local custom, so fingers crossed they will do a sterling job. And I have no issue with watching Arrietty for a third time when it gets a proper release later this year. 8.5/10

Mama Africa (Ger/S.Africa/Fin) (review)

When Miriam Makeba, a young and upcoming African singer agreed to sing a couple of inspiring songs as part of an anti-apartheid film in 1959, she had no idea the troubles it would cause her. Attending the Venice Film Festival to be there to receive the Palm D'or that year, she crossed a line that the South African government found unacceptable, and she was exiled from her home country. She went to America.

There she further developed her singing career and also spoke actively against the apartheid regime, as well as acting as an inspiration for her African-American cousins in her adoptive country, who were under much the same sort of oppression, in the land of the free.

Mama Africa (a name she came to be known affectionately by over time), not only brought African music to a western audience, but also managed to be a force to be reckoned with in the civil rights movements at the time, twice a passionate spokeswoman for the UN for the boycott of dealings with South Africa, and there at the eventual release of Nelson Mandela, who once he became president, gave Makeba back her citizenship. Right up until her death, she was a passionate and beloved speaker and activist for the rights of her people.

Miriam Makeba died in 2008, and this film helps bring together all the aspects of her life, the hardships and struggles, and her heartbreaking family tragedies, and also a taste of her work and influence beyond her life, warmed throughout by her clear and beautiful singing voice, some of her songs you might surprise yourself by recognising. A great way to end my festival experience. 7.5/10

==================

Yes, that's all folks, for Edinburgh this year at least. If you wanted more please pen a stiffly-worded letter to my boss who didn't let me take next week off so I could see more. As it goes, I'll just have to try and make things up in September with Cambridge. Hey ho.

EIFF 2011 - Day 3

2011-06-18T09:29:00.006+01:00

Whisky Galore! (UK) (wiki)

Slowly but surely, I'm knocking off the Ealing comedies one by one, so when Whisky Galore - one of the earler ones - showed up in the list in a quiet slot, I made sure I got a ticket.

On a remote, Outer Hebridean island sits the small town of Currie, the inhabitants lead a quiet existence in wont of nothing, at least until the supply of Whisky on the island completely dries up thanks to the war rationing. Help is on hand in the shape of the SS Cabinet Minister, a ship on its way with prescious restocking of the stuff, which unfortunately runs aground on the rocks before it can get to the shore. Not so good when two of the young bucks of the town are proposing to their fiances and there is a celebration to be had (on top of all the other excuses anyway), so when the town learns of the precariously-angled ship on the verge of sinking, they make for the waves in whatever boat they can get hold of, while trying to keep the towns' only upstanding law abider Captain Waggett of the local home guard out of the loop and unawares of the smuggling.

It was nice to see, but one of the weaker Ealing comedies, not having the focus and refined scripting of, say The Ladykillers. But it had it's moments, some cheeky digs at the scots and their love of the dram, and the action builds to a pretty good chase at the end. 7/10

Bobby Fischer Against the World (UK/US/Icl) (site/review)

A good documentary can make entertainment from any subject matter. Chess is certainly one of the less socially popular forms of entertainment around at the moment - try to engage your close circle of friends on the subject and you're likely to get a series of blank expressions, and an expectation to move back to more familiar ground unless you wish to be ostracised. But even chess had it's day in the social spotlight, nearly 40 years ago, in 1972.

Bobby Fischer came out of nowhere, a Brooklyn kid with a focused genius in the game that went to obsessional levels. He was also arrogant, short tempered, and a bit of a prima donna. Still he gained recognition and massive respect with the chess community, and beyond. At the time, the Soviets took every chess crown, and used the game to play politics with the Americans, as the country of intellectual and strategic prowess. Henry Kissenger himself worked to get Fischer into the 1972 showdown match against Boris Spassky, to put one in the eye of the Soviet political chess machine. Fischer was rude and arrogant, demanded more money for competing, and turned up an hour late for his first of a grudging 24-match marathon. But he won, and took the crown of the World Chess Champion for 1972.

But the story has much more to go from there. This was Fischers' high point of his tragic life. The praise and adulation, and the attention that came with it when he returned to America started a long and painful process of self-destruction. One that turned him from arrogant but likeable hero in the eyes of the ruskie-hating American public, to a reclusive, psychotic anti-semite, betraying his Jewish roots and cutting him off still further from his small circle of remaining friends.

I watched Bobby Fischer open-mouthed, knowing nothing of the man and finding it incredulous that such a shattered life had occurred under the catalyst of such a seemingly benign sport, but as the film goes on to explain, true chess grand-masters need that unusual mix of genius and psychosis that allows them to own the board and the myriad of moves that are available to them and their opponents at any one time, and a life spent wholly staring at 64 squares and nothing else, will be a life that struggles to comprehend the complexities of the rules of life outside. A compelling documentary. 8/10

Tender Son: The Frankenstein Project (Hun/Ger/Aus) (a rather scathing wiki entry)

Kornel has made a comfortable existence for himself persuing his dreams of being a film director after a bit of a blip in his earlier, more sleepy-aroundy days. But an aspect of his past - a feral, hormone-filled son of a past, looking for answers and vindication, comes fist-dragging back into his life when, after clumsily leaving a bunch of flowers at the home of the mother who abandoned him to an orphanage, takes part in Kornel's latest audition. Neither father nor son is aware who they've stumbled upon, but when the improvised audition goes really wrong, the boy is forced to flee, only to return to his mothers' for sanctuary, where fellow orphaned teen Magda stirs feelings in the monster boys' loins.

As you can expect from such a title, the film is a contemporary re-imagining of the Mary Shelley novel though you could easily miss the relationship unless it had been pointed out. The film does manage through darkened rooms and pregnant silences to recreate the brooding sense of a monster fighting helplessly with his anger and primal urges and trying to be 'good', and Kornel's role as the man tasked with putting the creature beyond harm is imaginative if underused. But the film does fall short of being a good one because of it's bloated runtime, and a needless shifting around of the characters in the laboured middle section, which tries to explain out some of the mysteries the first quarter brings up. By the time the final third comes along, you're already tracing through the original story to see how long it is before the film ends, and you don't want that as a director. 6.5/10

Shut Up Little Man! An Audio Misadventure (Australia) (site)

The term 'Audio Verite' has been coined to mean the surreptitious recording of an event for the amusement of others. One particular example are the end-of-the-world 'conversations' between two elderly men in a San Francisco apartment by a pair of young students who moved in next door to them in the late 1980's. Peter J. Haskett and Raymond Huffman are massively morose and irritable alcoholics living together in a dingy flat, and when the drinks begin flowing, so does the cussing. They cuss each other bad, in fact. So bad, that Eddie and Mitch decided - initially in case something bad happened and they needed evidence for the police - to record their conversations by strapping a microphone to a ski pole and hovering it in front of their window.

What they caught on several hours of tape came to be known as 'Shut Up, Little Man!', a phrase Peter would often use to talk Ray out of an argument. Word got around, people started asking for copies, and it began to snowball.

What started out as a prank and a laugh, started to have consequences. Record companies started ringing. People wanted copies from all around the world. Because the boys had just made the tapes and stuck them in the public domain, people started doing things with the material - comic books, audio mashups, and even an LA stage play. When it got to the point that several movie producers were trying to get in on the act and things were starting to turn ugly and legal, it was clearly time to try and sort the mess out, and perhaps even give some of the royalties to the unsuspecting people at the centre of it all.

Shut Up Little Man!, is a guilty laugh at the start, you're in there giggling at the things they got on tape, but the middle section kind of runs out of puff, explaining the legal complications and getting a bit samey in content as if the guys were only wanting a certain amount of material released into the film so they had to repeat some of it. The ending however feels a lot warmer, as the guys involved, now middle-aged and more mature, look on their subjects with a more affectionate eye, especially as Tony - a friend of the squabbling pair who occasionally came round to the flat and is the only surviving link to the conversations - is finally interviewed as a frail shadow of himself - and still none the wiser of his global fame.

The dip in the middle doesn't harm the film so much (and could have something to do with my heavy eyelids), and the piece as a whole takes the viewer through the whole emotion spectrum, including a lot of laughs. 8/10

EIFF 2011 - Day 2

2011-06-17T08:53:00.006+01:00

Stranger Than Paradise (US/Ger) (wiki)

Supposedly a cult indie classic from the director of Broken Flowers, Stranger Than Paradise tells a tale of disaffected, directionless youth in 1980's New York. Shot on hand-held camera with a grainy black and white quality, it is less film noir, and more film grunge. Workshy layabout Willie has little more than a poncy hat to his name, spending all his time lolling about a scruffy flat, occasionally entertaining the company of fellow layabout Eddie. When his Hungarian mother rings to ask him to babysit his teenage cousin Eva, it's obviously something that can't fit into his busy schedule, but somehow he is persuaded.

Something clicks over the next ten days in Willie's underutilised little mind, and after she moves onto greener pastures back in Cleveland, his little brain, aided by the gambling habits of Eddie - who also develops a crush - comes up with a long term plan to go visit her. You know, just popping by while in the neighbourhood.

Director Jim Jarmusch (who is a 2011 EIFF guest curator) paints a largly pointless existance of pretention and laziness in the absence of a direction in life, where motivation and decision are more than ever based on the acquistion of power and sex. But it is a labour to go through the extended blackouts and choppy acting to encounter it's more enjoyable aspects, the most appealing of which is the straight-talking aunt Lotte who has some of the best lines. 5/10

Tomboy (Fra) (wiki)

As 10-year old Laure suffers the stresses of a house move on account of mum being pregnant with a new little brother to go with her and her cheeky younger sis Jaqueline, a moment of childish fun threatens to make any life in her new area a complicated misery. Laure is very boyish, and for the first part of the film any audience member who hadn't read the synopsis would swear that's what she was. She hangs around with the lads, wears neutral clothing and gets into fights, many of which she has come out on top. On the way to meet with a group of kids from her new area she happens upon Lisa, and for reasons even Laure cannot fathom she goes along with Lisa's mistaken assumption that she is male. New boy Mikael is invented in an instant.

As you may suspect, situations where shirts come off for football, trunks go on for swimming, and people head into the bushes to answer the call of nature all present problems for the rapidly snowballing problem that Laure has made for herself. When her canny little sis (easily the star of the show) catches onto the situation and insists on tagging along in order to keep the secret from her parents, it all begins to unravel, just as Laure was being accepted into the future schoolyard clique.

A story of small problems seen big through the eyes of children, and the lessons that have to be learned about boundaries and the beginnings of sexuality, Tomboy playfully experiments with the logical conclusion to such a ruse, with an even mix of uncomfortable and amusing events along the way, but is handled with intimacy and care. 7/10

Jane's Journey (Ger) (site)

Prior to seeing this film, Jane Goodalls' work was to me restricted to her research and conservation work with the chimpanzees in Tanzania, Africa, a calling which made up a lot of her earlier life's work in the 1960's. But as this film rightly celebrates, this is only a small part of her current global influence.

Now in her late 70's she refuses to slow down. Still travelling around the world as ambassador and activist, author and inspiration, her work has evolved over the last 25 years. Two of her main branches of influence, the Jane Goodall Institute, and the Roots and Shoots campaign have overlapping aims but are generally concerned with the protection of the animals, the environment and the humanity that exists with both of them. The film is roughly split down the middle concentrating on these two major contributions, and the recognition that she has received for both. This is broken up and interspersed with intimate interviews with Jane at her Bornemouth home about her early life and influences, her partners and her not always ideal relationship with her son, Hugo. Through all her work, rewards and recognition, Jane Goodall remains as friendly and genuine as anyone you could hope to meet.

This is an excellent, gently crafted film, and a celebration of the work of a woman whose inflience has truly made a global difference, and capable of melting the stony resolve of any anti-environmentalist. If I had one criticism, it would be that the film feels a little self-indulgent at the time, but this is easy to forgive for such an influential person. Mary Lewis, the VP of the Jane Goodall Institute and Adina Farmaner the Executive Director, took some time out from her work to be at the UK premiere and answer a few questions at the end, as unfortunately Jane was at that moment talking with the Dalai Llama in Dubai. They were very personable and approachable, and was a special bonus to a really great film. 8.5/10

Fast Romance (UK) (site)

When director Carter Ferguson came out on stage and announced that this was a low budget film, set in Scotland, and featuring a home-grown cast, many of which were in the audience, my heart sank at the resurfacing memory of an almost identical circumstance this time last year. It was even the same screen room. Fortunately, whereas Spanking went down the route of forgettable rough-and-ready sweary gangster fare, Fast Romance opts for a cheery romantic comedy angle, and was much better.

The film concentrates on seven thirtysomethings (or thereabouts) in Glasgow, whose lives cross in the Fast Romance speed dating event. Loner gamer Gordon is on the verge of losing his job at the post office, and his inwardly quiet boss Kenny seems too distant to make any friends at all, what with his family problems. Bookish Fiona and overly talkative Nadine are best friends and bridesmaids to Lorna, on the verge of getting married. DI Spencer, an undercover copper who likes to take an interest in the private lives of his community comes along, but he and all the other guys are seriously intimidated by Elliot, the smooth talking and handsome guy who shows up and makes everyone else look and feel like a troglodyte.

So we get some initial pairings, some relations work, some don't and everyone's lives cross and intermingle. The usual fare, but done well. One thing that the film doesn't do is try to rest on the reputation of Glaswegians as drunken louts. Most of the characters have a genuine likeableness to them, which is always helpful to get you into the swing of the film. It's an appealing romantic film to see if you and your partner want something that gives you a warm feeling and a laugh, and doesn't go too gooey and sentimental (although they do lay on Kenny's backstory a little thick), with characters and situations that will cause both sexes to laugh and smile. 7.5/10

EIFF 2011 - Day 1

2011-06-16T09:35:00.004+01:00

The stormclouds of Edinburgh loomed overhead as I made myself to the Festival Theatre, where the opening night film was starting. Fortunately I made it before getting too drenched. The theatre was full to capacity and after a brief introduction by John Michael McDonagh, the director of The Guard (who apologised for not insulting the Scots as much as everyone else in the film) the plush red velvet curtain was raised and we were off.

The Guard (Irl/UK) (imdb)

Gerry Boyle (Brendan Gleeson, in a role he was born for) has a comfortable job, his many years of experience has turned his policing of the local village into a continuous lazy afternoon asleep at the wheel of his car. Petty crooks either end up cancelling themselves out, or doing stuff not worth waking up for.

But things get unacceptable when a gang of high-stakes drug-dealers come onto the scene and start using the village and its port for their logistics, while at the same time two new law enforcers start to push Boyle's nose out of joint - the wet behind the ears Sgt Aidan McBride, and straight-laced FBI agent Wendell Everett, (played by Don Cheadle - not best known for his comedy parts) - who both question Boyle's style and attitude as the psychotic and philosophical drug dealers get uncomfortably close.

In Bruges was directed by McDonagh's brother, Martin, and there is much to connect the two films, although The Guard is definitely more laugh-out-loud funny than it's more serious cousin. Gleeson who stars in both is wonderfully matter-of-fact in his casual racism and ignorance, law breaking and nicking the odd firearm, but is also given a softer edge of a man past his prime who deep down wants to do the right thing. It's massively sweary, a little bit shocking and is devillishly funny stuff that got the audience laughing pretty much constantly. (Also look out for Pat Shortt - Father Ted's Tom, doing his recognisable gurn.) 8/10

Pre-Festival Film Splodge

2011-06-15T16:31:00.007+01:00

I'm just starting my Edinburgh Film Festival run today. The run up on the train was beautiful, and Edinburgh is bathed in summer sunshine. Before the first day starts, I thought I'd include a trio of festival-style films that I've recently managed to catch before the festival starts proper tonight.

Submarine (UK) (wiki/site)

Richard Ayodade is the knowingly unusual sort from such classics as The IT Crowd and Garth Marenghi's Darkplace, (we'll pass over the Dean Learner interviews for now). So I was surprised to see that he is moving from crazy-haired oddity to movie director, and even more surprised to see his first choice of subject matter - the imperfect blossoming romance of a teenage boy in 1980's Wales.

Oliver Tate, who may or may not share some similairities with Ayodade's formative years, is a thoughtful but downtrodden and routinely bullied boy in secondary school. Caught between the bookish nature inherited from his straight-laced parents and the increasing need to be one of the popular gits who make everyone elses' life a misery, the one constant in his life is Jordana, a mysterious, red-coated girl with a rebellious, don't care personality and a knowing smile that turns his legs to mush. When Oliver sees the opportunity to make points at a fat girls' expense, he grabs it with both hands, and his world is forever changed.

Some synopses I have seen about this film tend to paint it as a 'raving hormone teen desperately trying to lose his virginity' story, and while that plays a small part, it is over and done with before the halfway point, concentrating instead on the shifting balance of relationships and how two people cope with events that undermine their foundations. Ayodade has made a comedy, although few times will you be laughing out loud, it's more a work that encourages knowing smiles and embarassing realisations that the lead character is living the lives of everyone in the audience, give or take a stolen kiss or two. It occasionally bares fleeting shadows of some of his earlier work in front of the camera, and even has a touch of French cinematics about it here and there with his camera work and score. It's perhaps best appreciated without knowing much more about it, as a quiet observer through a short period of a young man's life. 8/10

The Extraordinary Adventures of Adele Blanc-Sec (Fr) (wiki/site)

So many French films begin the same way, an overly consise narrator spends much of the first ten minutes explaining some incidental details about one of the characters in the film, not sparing us the extra information regarding their exact distance from a given landmark. It's an introductory trick done many times previous, for instance with Amelie and Micmacs, and though I groaned a little at seeing it done yet again, it marked the start of an otherwise enjoyable film.

Adele Blanc-Sec doesn't stop with it's half-inching of ideas there, you'll see plenty of familiar themes throughout, especially from the likes of Indiana Jones, and Night at the Museum, with computer-generated pterodactyls swooping through the streets of early 20th Century France. Even the chief bad guy is a dead ringer for the Gestapo bloke from Raiders of the Lost Arc.

But no matter, even though it's pillaging left right and centre it's still a good flick. Blanc-Sec is a well-heeled and ultra-confident young woman - a character based on a series of comic book novels from a few decades ago - with the forceful nature of a Kathrine Hepburn persona causing any man who values his standing to carry out her polite but forceful requests with little more than a dumbfounded look. At the moment, Adele Blanc-Sec is on her way to the pyramids in search of an Egyptian mummy who will help her with the sticky task of bringing her sister back to life after an unfortunate tennis incident. Typically other things get in the way, most notable is the aforementioned airborne dinousaur, and the elderly professor who has worked out a way of taming it's craving for flesh with the power of his mind.

Things get plenty more absurd than that, but it's all tempered by the rip-roaringness of it all, without which you'd be tempted to take things in it more seriously, which would then turn the mind to incredulity and ridicule at what was unfolding. Suspend that pesky disbelief for a second and enjoy the ride. It might not be Indy, but this imitation has a good deal of laughs and entertainment, and a brief and unexpected (but moustache-twirlingly welcome) flash of ladyflesh. 7.5/10

Senna (UK/Fra/US) (site)

Formula One has it's fair share of criticisms, and two of them I can relate to. Firstly, F1 can get pretty dull, especially when your maiden race is a processional fare where little happens outside of the pitstops. In the late 90's and 2000's, this was often the case, especially with the car specs at the time, and the likes of Schumacher insisting on driving faster than everyone else for every damn race. The second criticism is that that F1 is a hugely political sport, and this muddies the out-and-out racing aspect with politically-motivated rules changes, team-mate rivalries and uncomfortable tensions within the paddock when the house of cards teeters and falls.

Senna touches on both these points, a biography of the man who joined the F1 scene in 1984 and stayed there for a decade before tragically hitting the Tamburello corner wall at Imola in 1994, and becoming the third casualty of that dreadful race weekend, what would be seen as a massive low point in the history of the sport. I had only recently started watching F1 a season or two previous back then, and was just getting to grips with the teams and relationships, and I remember the moment well. My formulated opinions of the man prior to his death didn't progress beyond seeing him as the git that had a bit of a falling out with Prost and won most of the races before Schumacher came along, instead of letting the Brits through for their turn. This film is a good way to get an appreciation of the history of the man from a different perspective.

Senna spent the late 70's and early 80's go-karting; a simple, true racing discipline where politics rarely if ever got a look-in. Moving away from his native Brazil to an unfamiliar Europe to compete in F1, he found the political additions to his distaste, but even so he still showed great ability and by 1986 had got a drive with McLaren, a race-winning team. It was there that the skirmishes with his team-mate, the Frenchman Alain Prost - and F1 boss Jean-Marie Balestre, who was best buds with him - started both on and off the tracks. The rare footage dug up from TV interviews and private moments shows a deeply bothered and frustrated man, sticking through it all in the hope that one day he will just be able to leave the difficulties behind and just race.

F1 is a sport that is best enjoyed when you see the whole package; not just the racing, but the drivers, the teams, and the governors at the top who pull the strings and make things happen. Watching the cars go round is not much fun unless you know what's going on inside the minds of the people driving them: The clashing personality types, the friendships, the rivalries, and the sportsmanship. This film is a really satisfying tribute to the work and career of the man, that will be automatically on the list of any F1 fan worth his salt, but even if you aren't into the sport, it is also a fascinating biography of a man who became an icon for his native Brazil at the point where the country was in desperate need of financial help, where poverty was rife and their futures seemed hopeless, this man stood up to give them something to be proud of. 8/10

Plan A Was More Than Enough

2011-05-23T14:30:00.017+01:00

Harold Camping then,

'There is no Plan B', he said.

Most people would have interpreted that to mean, that he was so sure of his convictions that he didn't even bother to think about what he would do if the Rapture didn't happen.

But I reckon Camping knew exactly what he was doing, and that his little quip was deliberately filled with a second meaning more close to his heart.

From a quote on The Register:

New Yorker Robert Fitzpatrick's faith in Camping saw him standing in Times Square at the appointed hour, but he was rewarded for investing his life savings of $140k in a poster campaign proclaiming the apocalypse with nothing more than drizzle and jeering tourists.

He said: "I can't tell you what I feel right now. Obviously, I haven't understood it correctly because we're still here."

No Robert, you understood the message perfectly well as Camping intended it to be interpreted. Even if he didn't profit directly from your posters, it will have brought some of the gullible round to his way of thinking, and thus a bit more cash. You were basically a free advert. It wasn't personal: anyone with your particular mental state of mind would have done just as well.

His Plan A was to drop off the radar on May 21, with a whole sackful of other peoples' money, just as they were perhaps realising they'd been duped. I doubt Camping had the same religious convictions he may have had when he was younger - any nobility from pious religious faith had been slowly removed as it dawned on him down the years that he could make an awful lot of money out of other people who thought the same thing. And when his initial 'unchristian' actions failed to elicit any punishments from above, that gave him the green light to do whatever he wanted.

Yes, maybe it is the case that Harold Camping is a closet Atheist, or at least an agnostic. Only he got his enlightenment not from realising that faith is a bunch of hooey that destroys peoples' lives and that for the sake of future humanity it should be jettisoned, but from seeing it's perverse and selfish value; seeing the potential for using it as a tool, screwing other people over by lying to them and misleading them. As has been the case with many people in positions of power, their faith in the system they got into has been eroded and replaced with a simple knowledge of the power it gives them and how to misuse it to their own ends.

Post-non-rapture, it would be too much to expect the majority of people to take an honest look at their gullibility, vulnerability and wasted hours, days and months on this nasty disease. Such a possibility has been proved false by Camping returning some days later, his website somewhat altered so as to remove his claims, and incredulously stating that it did actually happen, just in a nice caring way, sparing us five months of torture until the world REALLY REALLY WILL END on October 21. How anyone would swallow this can only be explained by dogmatic, brainwashing religious faith, and closed, underdeveloped minds.

Amongst its people, Campings' claims and subsequent backpeddling has triggered variety of defensive walls:

Some slightly less fundamental Christians have quoted Matthew 24:36 and said, 'how can anyone know - these people should have known Camping was a false prophet'. Recognising the poisonous effect the man has on anyone religiously close to him there has been no shortage of self-appointed spokesmen speaking out and distancing themselves - after he was proved wrong, you'll note. The Rapture is obviously a perfectly normal thing to believe in, they suggest, but you must be some sort of kerayzee to think you can predict when it is!!

Camping used the biblical teachings of the rapture that he knew was part of the central Christian canon, as a way to get what he wanted. You can blame the biblical scholars for coming up with the rapture concept just as much as this man, and blame the less-fundamental fundamentalists for reminding the blindly faithful to continue believing in - and thus fearing - the Rapture being just around the corner in the future.

Other (more sceptical) people have reacted with anger: calling for the man to be arrested for fraud - but if they did, then he would be no less guilty than any other bible thumper at the front of the flock. Feel free to send out the police for the TV evangelicals who get people to throw money at them, the local faith healers asking for pots of cash to have a chance at miraculously healing their sick child, and - well why not - even the vicar in your local village church - his collection box takings are all in the name of the lord after all.

And there will always be stupid people. That's why they will accept this rubbish unquestioningly without stopping for a moment and thinking '..hang on.. this will happen at 6pm local time.. all around the world? WTF!?'. These are the same sorts of people caricatured on the front of a Darwin Awards book, sawing off the branch of a tree while sitting on it. These are the vulnerable, uneducated, wilfully ignorant people Camping and his type target.

A fourth group (mostly apologists) has tried to just simply laugh it off: 'No harm done.' No harm done, you say? What about people bankrupted because they paid for billboards advertising this rubbish, or spent their life savings travelling across the country to be near the idiot on the day. What about the thousands of faithful experiencing degrees of psychological anxiety and fear about whether they would be raptured, and what they did wrong to anger their god when it turned out they were still on earth and nothing had changed - especially in the hours before they realised that no-one else had been raptured either.

In the post-rapture interview, Camping showed us a little of his attitude towards the people whose lives he has shattered, some hint of the way he views his followers as nothing more than a means to an end. When asked if he would apologise to the people he has misled, and more importantly, coerced them to ruin their futures, he said:

"If people want me to apologize, I can apologize, yes. I am not a genius. I was wrong. It [the Rapture] should be understood spiritually and not physically,"

In other words, he will only apologise if people ask him to; he has no conscience or shame to drive him to do it unprompted. As far as his twisted logic goes, he has done nothing wrong, and any apology will not be heartfelt - it will only serve to shut those disagreeable unbelievers up.

Worst of all, Camping has blood on his hands. A woman attempted to murder her children, followed by her own attempted suicide because she couldn't face the rapture and the possibility of not being a 'chosen one'. No doubt the massive let down felt by thousands of people in the coming days will cause still others to consider suicide, especially if they have given everything away. And it will happen again in October.

But let's not put all the blame on Camping; he has just used his brains to make capital out of the biblical concepts laid down hundreds of years ago to line his pockets - the ones the saner members of society have kicked off into the long grass and urged others to do the same. Thousands have done it in the past to keep people scared. People are doing it now around the world in all walks of life, and will do it in the future with religions yet to be invented. And when the followers are told stories of death and destruction, mercy for only the faithful and hellfire for anyone straying even a little bit from the righteous path, their fear they will keep them close to the bosom of religion as a source of comfort from the phantoms that aren't actually there.

-=-=-=-

Oh, and Osama Bin Laden was a mucky little perv.

Anitidaephobia

2011-05-22T21:08:00.006+01:00

The fear that somewhere, somehow, a duck is watching you. (with apologies to Gary Larson)
True story:

While in my back garden, a duck watched me build a wall, and when I had finished and I was putting things away for the night it waddled up to me, and stared. It seemed unfazed by our relative sizes. I went inside and came back out with some wet bread. It took the torn off pieces from my hand.

She returned the following morning with two friends, and periodically afterwards. My resident pheasants don't know what to do about it when they barge them out of the way and eat the bird seed I put down.

And they watch me through my window. Silently watching, and waiting. Waiting for their moment.

Race Results

2011-05-22T20:51:00.002+01:00

Slightly belatedly, here are my race results.

Leeds Half Marathon: 2:26:28

Though I was trounced by my boss who is really really old and shouldn't be able to run as quick as he can, this was my first competition race at this length. I'd managed a couple on a measured local route and the best I'd managed was a 2:33. I never imagined that I'd get below 2 and a half hours but I was aided by good weather, a more forgiving route on my feet, and a kindly lady who I got talking to on the start line who was also looking for a 2:30 time, and so offered to run pace with me. It's amazing just what a push you can get from being in a crowd of runners too. That and being off my tits on bananas, pasta and barocca. Definitely doing it again next year!

Hull 10K: 58:52

Buoyed up with the knowledge I could manage more than twice distance, I set a target of under an hour - something I've only managed by fluke once on a local route, so armed with a similar amount of pre-race energy and carbs, I went for it. Hull is perhaps the best place to go to get a good 10k time, since the route is almost completely flat. I went to visit The Deep afterwards, which was alright, but not a patch on Churaumi.

Thanks to everyone who has contributed to the associated JustGiving pages (Leeds, Hull) for these races. Together so far £200 has been raised for Japanese Tsunami Relief Fund and Macmillan Cancer Support.

I'm currently invalided with a sprained ankle at the moment, which I hope will heal quick as there is still the Leeds 10K and York 10Ks to go, starting in a months time.

Japan 2010: 22 - Where I Make the Long Journey Home

2011-05-17T21:02:00.004+01:00

The little resurrected alarm clock beeped into life at 6.15am. I dispassionately rolled over and looked into the gloom. It was still pretty dark, and the discoloured grey-cream walls around my head merged into the darkness. I stared at my toe in the reflection of the little TV in the corner. It was time to begin a long journey back home.

I had taken the wise decision a couple of days previous to buy the Narita Express ticket, although my optimism that buying it with the soon-to-expire pass didn't work out. I had to pay the going rate of 3310yen, which got me from Shinjuku to the airport. Now all I had to do was get there.

I washed and clothed, and packed my remaining things into my bulging bags, and after checking and re-checking the room for items that I'd forgotten to pack like some sort of loony, I finally took the psychologically important step of walking out of the door and locking it behind me. I had a standard sized small satchel, a large 35-litre backpack, and a wheeled luggage case, care of Don Quijote. They were all full to the brim with things for friends and family to open when they got home, and for me to remember my time here. Volcano dust from Kagoshima. Coral and seashells from Okinawa. Obscure games and treats from Akihabara. Volcanic rocks from Aso, and precious stones from the Akiyoshi plains. These and so many other things from my last three weeks held within them a thousand memories. I had no idea where it all was in the mass of taut fabric, or what I was going to do with it, but for now, I just had to worry about getting it the 6000 or so miles back home.

The first job was to get to the station. I checked out about 7am in the hope of missing the morning rush. No chance. When I reached the station it was already home to an efficiently moving weave of people going about their business; most of them going on the train. I stopped off for a last munch of that excellent bacon bread and then put myself on the train.

I was already sweating from heaving round my own weight in tat, but the discomfort got worse when I boarded. I had no way of removing my backpack and the train was standing room only. I could feel a dozen or so eyes burrowing into the back of my neck as I stood there gently crushing a young woman's face against the doors behind me, something that went doubly so as the train lurched between lines and came to a halt at the stations.

Mercifully the journey eventually ended at Shinjuku and I could head off to platform 5 where the Narita Express would soon be appearing, at my own pace - there was for once plenty of strolling time.

I wrote a bit of diary during the journey and had a check through my flight details once more, but made sure I spent a good half of it gazing out of the window at the final view of the country. I'd seen a lot of Japan through train windows but this time it had been tempered and replaced by spending a little more time actually out there. I was contented with that. I still had many places I wanted to go, but they could wait a year or so.

The greenery slowly replaced the built-up urban views, and aside from a second glimpse of the Tokyo Sky Tree in the distance dwarfing everything around it, my final views of the country were non distinct houses and scrubland, which though plain, felt like a gentle way of winding down after the visual assault I had just experienced.

Working my way through the passages in the bowels of Narita airport, I was stopped politely but firmly by a security guard, just outside the office where I had got my rail pass when I arrived. The sudden jolt out of the rhythm of my journey put me a little on edge, and I was reminded of how nervous I was - although for different reasons - the last time I was stood there. It was a 'security check' and he asked me where I had been. Well, I had to indulge myself, didn't I? I rattled off the list of places I had been on my journey round, and my visible enthusiasm must have had a positive effect, as he loosened up considerably after that. I got a couple of questions about who packed my bags, and then he let me go.

Up a few floors was the huge room containing all the flight service desks, and the large F board held the Virgin check-in desks. Predictably there was quite a queue for cattle class, and I had arrived about 1.5 hours before takeoff, which by plane standards is cutting things a little fine. After a little while the queue began to move and I snaked my way slowly to the desk.

Virgin did a lot of things better than what KLM/Air France did (my choice for the first trip). They had better food and service, and seemed to be generally a bit more competent; however, my opinion of them took a battering when I handed over my checked luggage and was told that the extra suitcase I'd bought would be charged extra - right there and then I had to leave the queue and pay 5000yen (about £40) with my debit card to get it on board. Air France had no such problems before. Grr.

I didn't let it bother me. I rejoined the queue (thankfully allowed to push in) and then finally boarded the plane. I got an aisle seat next to a middle-aged American woman who didn't seem to talk much (although we shared an amusing moment over the squid dinner). Frankly this was okay by me, as my eyes were getting heavy.

But I couldn't sleep, so the enticing allure of complementary films won me over. I watched the last half of The A Team movie (meh), then Toy Story 3 (again, because it's excellent), and finished off with Kick-Ass, which I really wasn't expecting to enjoy half as much as I did. I must remain on the lookout for more films where a small girl with purple hair swears her head off and kills people with impunity. It's a much under-represented genre.

The plane was about fifteen minutes late taking off, which was of little concern. However by the time we reached the shores of Blighty and came into land at Heathrow, the healthy buffer between setting down and getting on the connecting flight to Manchester was almost completely gone. It was pretty clear by this point that even if I would make the transfer, my luggage would not, yet again.

This is where things went a bit wrong. I don't find it coincidental that it happened as I stepped back on British soil. Out of the influence of the far east, things just stop working, and people begin not giving much of a crap. It happened on my last two flights back to Blighty, and it was about to happen again, although this time it would be more convoluted.

'This is your captain. We are sat on the runway awaiting permission to taxi in. Those passengers who are taking a connecting flight will be pleased to hear that I have radioed in to have them hold on for you until we get you disembarked and on your way'.

Bollocks.

I disembarked with about a half hour before the plane to Manchester left. I was at Terminal 3. I had to get to Terminal 1. This involved a lot of pacing round passageways and up and down escalators, plus some outside running between buildings and a bus ride that was far too 'sunday drive' for my current state of mind. It also meant an unwelcome baggage search and sweaty rub down at a bank of scanners. I say a bank, there was four, but only one had anyone manning it. The huge queue was achingly slow to move. Next to me was an equally exasperated man who I recognised from the flight. Howard was a high-flying although weary-looking German businessman on his way to a meeting in Manchester. We'd sort of acknowledged each others' presence on the bus between terminals but now we had got some quality time next to each other in the queue, so we got talking. He was reasonably suited up whereas I was less than smart, with a few days of beard and probably a little more body odour than was polite in company. Nevertheless we helped pass the time as we neared the front of the queue, until an angry storm of arched-eyebrow Russian womanhood came pushing through the queue and in front of us.

'Let me through, I'm late for my flight', she said as we sensibly got out of the way. She worked the metal detector in double-quick time and was through the next bit before we could blink.

Once through the gate, it was a mad dash - with all my remaining energy - round the passageways and predictably right out to the final bloody gate in the building at the far end. Had we made it? Had the dulcet words of the pilot worked to keep that gate open just long enough for me to make it through the assault course?

I trudged back from the gate, which had closed only a couple of minutes before. 'You'll have to catch the next one', the oh-so helpful steward said from behind the desk. When I asked when that was, she gave me the words that made my face fall. 'About 9.50pm', she said.

If the plane set off at 9.50pm, that meant it would land in Manchester about 11pm. The trains stopped running about that time, and as I recalled from last time, there was a lot of 'delayed baggage' form filling, metal detector-ing and, running over blue escalators before I would be allowed out into the open air of the train platform. It just couldn't be done.

Howard and the nameless Russian woman met me coming the other way. She was stomping, and had made her presence further felt by complaining loudly to an unfortunate lackey behind a nearby service desk, which by coincidence was the one I had been directed to go to to get an alternate flight. Russian woman immediately went on the offensive again, kicking off about the delays and the treatment, and where she had to be. The stewards had heard it all before and knew which words to use in response. Unsurprisingly, the angry Russian woman left us in a stream of incomprehensible words trailing off, never to return. I wouldn't have wanted to spend much more time with her, although if I'd have pushed through that huge queue like she did, maybe I'd have just made my flight.

Howard and me talked at a more reasonable volume with the steward at the desk, reviewing our options. We could transfer to a British Airways flight if we wanted which left an hour earlier, but it would mean we would have to go to Terminal 3 where someone behind a Virgin desk would be able to do the necessary key tappings. I asked about my bags, wary of my outward trip, but was assured that due to the delay they would both make it up with me to Manchester.

So we went. Howard lent me his mobile so I could ring my parents as I would be spending the night at theirs, if I was ever going to make it home that night, but there was no signal in the airport buildings, so we pressed on. After a lot of explaining at the Virgin desk (Howard had clearly done this before, and he shared a few stories of such cockups as we went) we eventually managed to transfer our flights for free, and then got the lift down to the shiny new Heathrow Express underground train to Terminal 5.

About 10 minutes wait and 10 minutes ride, and we were there. As well as the seats, Howard managed to wrangle for us a free pass into the 'North Lounge' - a business lounge filled with free coffee, soft sofas, nondescript pictures on the walls.. and free grub.

It was like a mini version of one of those buffet restaurants, with a selection of complimentary nosh and a few drinks to choose from. Having just come from the country that cannot do Indian cuisine for toffee, I eyed up the Tikka Masala with slavering lips, although I did eventually plump for their very European beef goulash which was close enough to being a traditional British meat and two veg as made no difference. I wolfed down a couple of platefuls as Howard more sensibly chewed his Korma.

Full up, we went our separate ways and passed the time until the gate numbers came up. I stuffed a few complementary biscuits into my backpack and tried to sit somewhere that was not so comfortable that I would fall asleep. Eventually, Gate 9 flashed up under the Manchester flight, so I wasted no time in heading off.

I spent a further twenty minutes sat in the gate lounge next to a man who reeked of pipe smoke, which helped me to stay awake at least, and then we all filed on. The journey started pretty much on time, but my now full stomach was sending messages to my brain that it was time to shut down for the night, which in an off and on way, did until the skyline of Manchester caught my attentions.

It was after 10pm now. I ran to the luggage area and - well, the backpack had made it at least, but the souvenir-packed case could have been anywhere. Fortunately I had pre-empted the situation and wrote down a description of each of my cases so I wouldn't be taxing my brain too much when I had to describe my missing property. I filled out the appropriate form, hulked my pack onto my back, and ran along the blue escalators until they ran out and the railway started.

I made it in time for one of the final trains to Leeds, and fortunately there was little in the way of ruffians to bother me along the route. By half past eleven, I was in Leeds, which was close enough for a Taxi home. I stepped out into the cold air of a brand new day and climbed the steps to my parents house, said hello, slurped a cup of proper Yorkshire tea, and then collapsed into a newly made bed.

Final Thoughts

In some ways, my second jaunt around Japan was an improvement on the first one. I had managed to keep my innards from turning to liquid this time by being a bit more careful with my food choices (and not running myself into the ground so much - spending more time smelling the flowers instead of trying to cover stupid amounts of miles per day), and the pre-booking of all the hotels certainly freed up my time to go do other things. It felt like a holiday.

But there was still much room for improvement. I kind of liked the flexibility I had when there the first time because if the journey got too crazy or I fell ill, I could change the route. This was not open to me here, but fortunately I had planned things sensibly enough not to need it.

I guess the main problem I had this time was that the second half of the trip could not hope to compete with the first half. Weather played it's part, as things slowly became cooler the further north I went (Tokyo was a wash-out both times), but the killer was the time spent in each spot. In the first half - Okinawa, Aso, Nagasaki - these were my favourites, and coincidentally the ones where I spent more than one day at. After Nagasaki, it was just a single night's stopover at each location until I got back to Tokyo - and that meant little time to relax, explore or make friends with other people.

The Good Bits

Onsen -Relaxing and liberating!
Okinawa (even though it was blisteringly hot) - a beautiful place
Night-time Nagasaki
The people I met along the way, who were friendly and kind (and generous with the freebies!)
Many more beautiful sights

The Bad Bits

Feeling a bit vulnerable after the last night in Okinawa
The increased presence of western religion
Rushing through the last half and not really having time to enjoy the ride
Rain-soaked Tokyo!
Not sharing the journey with someone (aside from with this blog!)

What I would hope to include next time

A winter in Hokkaido - the wildlife, the ice festivals and the beautiful landscapes
A major festival - maybe the Nagasaki Kunchi festival which looked cool, (there are many others)
The Tokyo Marathon - can my legs take it?
Going with someone - maybe I can find someone mad enough to share the experience next time.
Hakone, just outside Tokyo
Taking a couple of days to climb Mt. Fuji
The third view of Japan (which apparently survived the earthquake with little damage despite being pretty close to it
.....

At some point after the nuclear problems die down, I'll be off once more to see what I can see. But for now, that will do me for a bit.

Edinburgh Film Festival 2011

2011-05-17T13:48:00.003+01:00

Just a quick post to highlight the upcoming Edinburgh film festival, which I'll be attending in the first few days. The brochure has just gone live, and one film in particular stood out: they are showing the English language dub of the new Ghibli film The Borrower Arrietty (18 and 20 June), which I'm not going to miss if I can at all help it. By coincidence, they will also be showing Countdown to Zero (21 June), another film I saw while in Japan and well worth a look.