tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10188401404594508912024-03-13T00:35:25.851+00:00Apparently rantyAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04785089904094309692noreply@blogger.comBlogger56125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1018840140459450891.post-42086165856613456272014-08-07T22:11:00.000+01:002015-07-16T19:16:12.165+01:00Batman: The Corruption<div style="text-align: center;">
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When is a superhero movie not a superhero movie? <br />
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Well, it's when Christopher Nolan uses a comic book hero to explore the darker side of human nature and redefine what a superhero movie <i>can</i> be. Overshadowed by Heath Ledger's untimely passing, Nolan's second Batman movie is an exploration into the corruption of power.<br />
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<i>The Dark Knight</i> is a movie of epic proportions. It is a movie of ambition and flawed morals. Characters are no longer bound by their home territory, Batman has no jurisdiction and Nolan uses this to expand his characters and story. <i>The Dark Knight</i> is the best superhero movie ever made, despite it's flaws.<br />
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At the centre of <i>The Dark Knight</i> is a triumvirate of individuals: Batman; flirting with fascism as he relentlessly chases The Joker; a 'dog chasing cars' and Harvey Dent; holder of a virtuous jawline and seemingly shining like the Phial of Galadriel.<br />
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After <i>Batman Begins</i> a sequel was always on the cards and before long the 'I believe in Harvey Dent' whispers began and pictures of Heath Ledger's Joker appeared. Ledger's casting caused some consternation as people only remembered <i>A Knight's Tale</i> and not <i>Candy</i>. It wasn't long before his excellent performance raised the debate pitting him above Nicholson. It's fairly pointless comparing Ledger and Nicholson's portrayals of Batman's nemesis.<br />
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One is not better than the other in the same way that Mark Hamill wasn't better than Cesar Romero. Posthumous Oscar's aside Ledger is the Joker in this incarnation just as whoever comes next will make the role his own. This time The Joker doesn't have a grand plan to poison Gotham or kidnap a prominent citizen, he simply wants to run amok and have some fun. He plays games with organised crime and police alike as he seeks to remove the boundaries he sees as constraining society. This is why Batman can't beat him. Batman has rules: no guns, no murder whilst The Joker is happy blowing up hospitals and police stations. Whilst Bruce Wayne seeks his exit strategy The Joker makes Gotham burn to reel him back in. The symbiosis is diagnosed excellently in the interrogation room and the theme strengthens until the very end when The Joker invokes a paradox and WrestleMania II. Yet Ledger's Joker is better when he's not saying anything at all, hanging out of the police car window in silence and giving the new commissioner a slow hand clap are masterful actions to flesh out the character.<br />
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The abandonment of the Tumbler/Batmobile is a turning point for Batman alongside the deaths and fires that change Gotham's landscape. Nolan's insecurity causes him to cloud the storyline with a secondary villain (scarily obvious from the start) and force Batman to employ ever more unconventional and brutal means of locating The Joker. The insidious side of a smartphone unfolds alongside a morality play which is largely unnecessary and dampens the showdown we're expecting.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Let's face it, we all know Apple have a room like this.</b></td></tr>
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<i>The Dark Knight</i> benefits from continuity in the form of returning characters and actors. Lucius Fox, Jim Gordon and Jonathan Crane are all welcome returns and despite Maggie Gyllenhaal's best efforts we could do without Rachel Dawes. Eric Roberts takes time out of his obscenely busy schedule to put in a very good shift as Moroni and Michael Caine is always welcome as Alfred. Nolan firmly roots The Dark Knight in its comic book source material and reality, moreso than Batman Begins. The DNA of The Long Halloween is there, as are traces of Azzerello and Bermejo's work. The initiated audience will probably oppose Two-Face's origins but Nolan wisely chooses not to give The Joker a false back story.<br />
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Batman struggles with balancing his power and desires when met by chaos and resorts to desperation to avoid the darkness and support his 'White Knight' only for the hope to be lost. Dent's jawline is split like his personality and his Uncle Sam jingoism buried beneath the burns. It still doesn't stop him lecturing on morality and chance. Dent/Two-Face's story is rapidly condensed and Batman has to take ultimate action. It's a waste of a character and Batman has to take the blame to save himself and Gotham.<br />
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Batman will return, but in what form? Whatever the result hopefully he'll be without the achingly ethical dilemma. If you want your superheroes with a healthy dose of casual bravado then you'll need to look at Marvel right now, which is handy as Iron Man 2 is in the offing.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04785089904094309692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1018840140459450891.post-83531819239789344582014-07-28T21:43:00.000+01:002014-07-28T21:43:06.149+01:00The Problem Child<br />
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To follow the bombastic box office beater <i>Iron Man</i>, Marvel chose to tackle their most unpredictable property. Ang Lee's 2003 effort at bringing Marvel's Jekyll and Hyde to the screen is politely ignored as the shadow of Bill Bixby stands tall over Edward Norton's incarnation. Although this time he's Bruce and not David thankfully.<br />
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As a TV series, <i>The Incredible Hulk</i> was a mainstay of childhoods anchored around a mere four television channels. It's for that reason that a heavy dose of nostalgia would help Kevin Feige truly incorporate Hulk into the newly established Marvel Cinematic Universe. Lou Ferrigno is, not entirely, replaced by CGI as Edward Norton takes the role of the tormented scientist who eats odd meals in bowls as Bill Bixby appears in South American imports. Norton was no stranger to duality after <i>Fight Club</i> but with the clever incorporation of breathing exercises and anger management techniques keeps the gamma fuelled beast at bay. For a while at least.<br />
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The leading players are vaguely established and the origin story glossed over; this is a movie for fans. Hulk fans will know all about the gamma rays, Thunderbolt Ross and Betsy but the lab accident and Banner going fugitive could have done with a bit more backbone. The US military is cast as the enemy as it seeks to get its hands on an uncontrollable weapon. It's a seemingly age old plotline that has been brought to life by Weyland Yutani and many others. It's often been said that Hulk was a reaction to The Cold War and the military-industrial complex even if he was a reinvention of <i>Jekyll and Hyde</i>. A harsh juxtaposition in more recent times to DC's Dr Manhattan. However, let's face it, allegory is displaced by explosions and green screens in the Noughties and so we have The Abomination. Thanks very much Wolfgang Peterson, Michael Bay <i>et al</i>.<br />
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No, The Leader is alluded to but we are presented with The Abomination. Woefully miscast is Tim Roth who gamefully gets his Hulkamania on only to be splatted all over the screen. The Abomination looks like a steroid addicted version of <i>Dogma's</i> Golgothan. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Just add gamma rays</b></td></tr>
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It feels like a concession, what started off as a reasonably cerebral
exercise in story telling soon gives way to smoke filled conservatories
and footprints we haven't seen since Jurassic Park, the formula is
exemplified by the tacked on end credits scene. You can almost feel the
frantic phone calls getting William Hurt and Downey Jr into a room to
introduce a 'team.'<br />
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<i>The Incredible Hulk</i> is missing the sense of ambition and grandiose that Marvel gave <i>Iron Man</i> and, later, <i>Thor</i>. However many nice touches and nods to the past are made Marvel can't quite shake the notion that <i>The Incredible</i> <i>Hulk</i> is a place filler, burdened with lost love, a warm up act for something yet to come. The lack of continuity as Norton is exiled in favour of Mark Ruffalo in time for <i>Avengers Assemble</i> proves this.<br />
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The Marvel Cinematic Universe may be expanding after its Big Bang but quantity isn't a substitute for quality.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04785089904094309692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1018840140459450891.post-41082653662623789512014-06-07T18:18:00.000+01:002014-06-07T18:18:45.469+01:00The Marvel RehabilitationDC Comics had stolen a march, we weren't in the Golden Age any more and superheroes and comic books had grown and evolved into motion pictures. Marvel fitfully competed with DC's own fitful efforts. Licensing deals came and went and whilst <i>X-Men</i> scored big <i>The Incredible Hulk</i> was soon to have a reboot of a reboot. It was all a bit haphazard until a shuffling of management and the ascension of Kevin Feige. Feige was to put a coherence to the making of Marvel films and forge the Marvel Cinematic Universe. The billion dollar juggernaut would awaken Disney whilst making DC look slightly impotent as they held Christopher Nolan forward as their one shining light. It's not just the Easter eggs that make Marvel films work. And to think <i>Iron Man</i> had been stuck in the very definition of development Hell for nearly 20 years. Marvel just needed something, a little spark.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>But how does he pee?</b></td></tr>
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The spark was Robert Downey Jr. The very definition of perfect casting as Tony Stark. Stark and Downey Jr are immensely similar. Essentially, both are brash Bruce Waynes, playboy arseholes with a twinkle in the eye that makes them forgivable and likable. It's not even Downey Jr's impeccable facial hair that makes <i>Iron Man</i> a good movie. It's paced perfectly, not too CGI dependant given the circumstances and the casting is spot on. A relatively lame ending is handled well and pitched just about right by director Jon Favreau.<br />
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<i>Iron Man</i> always struck me as a <i>Batman</i> rip off without the emotional issues but the filmmakers have managed to distinguish the two. Jarvis abandons human form to become a docile Terminator and Stark's relationship with Rhodes is brought in as a central theme. The corporate giant isn't a Waynesque loner twisted by rage but a sociable, champagne swigging capitalist; Eisenhower's military-industrial complex in human form. Stark's inherited genius and resourcefulness see him design a life saving exoskeleton which makes him Iron Man. Seemingly at a loss for anything better to do Stark uses his alter ego to promote peace much to the chagrin of his business partner , Obadiah Stane. It's amazing that a near death experience can cause an egotistic prick to abandon chasing profits to go off and do some manufacturing in his home workshop. It's elements like this that make Stark a little unrelateable; he has everything at his disposal and the inexplicably named Pepper Potts will tidy up any mess he makes. <i>Iron Man</i> rattles along enjoyably enough as Stark attempts to reconcile his friends with his new metallic persona whilst the background rumbles with Stane's Machiavellian jealousy. Naturally enough it all comes to a head with two iron men battling each other. It's the gentle introduction of Agent Coulson and S.H.I.E.L.D. that make <i>Iron Man</i> less than formulaic. <br />
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Now Stark isn't just at odds with himself and his former business partner but the quintessential Man In Black from the Government looms over him. The explosion of popularity for S.H.I.E.L.D. has spun off across the Marvel universe and a lot of this is down to typecasting. Clark Gregg is <i>always </i>a face of Government, neatly suited and booted in <i>The West Wing</i> or as a policeman in <i>CSI</i> amongst other things. We have to wait for a hideously tacked on post credits scene to see just who Coulson works for, a scene which paves the way for all following movies in the Marvel Cinematic Universe.<br />
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<i>Iron Man</i> is used as an introductory tool, a foundation and a marker for what Feige wants from his comic book properties. For years DC had the market cornered with the exception of Marvel's interloping <i>X Men</i> but now there can only be one outcome: an <i>Avengers</i> film. The only problem is how to introduce so many characters of a team without confusing an audience. Marvel's solution was simple: give them all a standalone feature before bringing together a super team. <i>Iron Man</i> is merely the first square. Marvel passes go and collects considerably more than $200.<br />
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<i>Iron Man</i> was clearly produced with the intention to spawn a legacy of sequels and whilst Jeff Bridges is great you feel Downey Jr needs a villain for his quips to bounce off, someone like, say Sam Rockwell. But he'll have to wait as Marvel are getting the green paint out again on Photoshop.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04785089904094309692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1018840140459450891.post-65885313520133464522014-03-31T20:57:00.001+01:002014-03-31T21:02:16.198+01:00Superman: The Homage<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Whilst <i>Batman Begins</i> was being filmed Warner Bros sought to resurrect their other superhero franchise and bring Superman back to the big screen. The project was called <i>Superman:Flyby</i> and the premise was a complex trilogy to make Superman dominate the cinema for the next ten years. Playing with timelines and resurrection it's little surprise the story had JJ Abrams' fingerprints all over it. Production meandered as the traditional problems with a Superman film reared their head; difficult casting, directors in and out whilst even choosing locations was difficult. Abrams loitered as Warner Bros approached Bryan Singer whose idea of a returning Superman was approved when presented to Richard Donner. Singer was a safe pair of hands having superhero experience with <i>X-Men</i> and the shining light of <i>The</i> <i>Usual Suspects</i> in his back catalogue.<br />
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The silly decision to cast Josh Hartnett as Superman was annulled amid typecasting and commitment fears. The door opened for a pre-vegan Brandon Routh. He certainly looked the part. It's rumoured Kevin Spacey and Kate Bosworth signed on without reading a script whilst James Marsden began a quest to appear in as many superhero franchises as possible. If they reboot <i>The Green Lantern</i> you know he'll be fishing around.<br />
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Routh is pretty darn good as Superman and as Clark Kent. He manages to capture some of Reeve's charm as Kent without overdoing the goofiness and then step into the blue suit retaining a level of vulnerability that we haven't seen in previous Superman incarnations. The main problem is the story he finds himself in.<br />
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Superman has been absent for five years, looking at the space debris of Krypton. Quite why is never really explained. Neither is Kent's parallel absence. He's been away 'finding himself' or something yet returns without so much as a suntan. Verisimilitude goes so far but now it's got to the point that Lois Lane will only know if Clark Kent is Superman if it's announced via neon sign. That rohypnol kiss back in the day was mighty powerful. Maybe it's because Lois Lane now has a son, a son full of afflictions and weaknesses that <i>he</i> may as well have a neon sign that says 'Son of Superman.' This brings worrying thoughts though. When Supes and Lois got their freak on what stopped him getting carried away and blowing her head off? Why was she so blase about shagging an alien? How defective are Lois' genes that they make the son of Superman so sickly?<br />
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Right, that's enough of that. Lex Luthor is trying his old real estate ploy again albeit with a twist. Spacey looks like he's having immense fun as Luthor and hams it up darkly, changing wigs willy nilly whilst actually getting down to the nitty gritty of trying to fight Superman by levelling the playing field. The Luthor trip to the Fortress of Solitude is inspired in it's villainy, matched only by the look on Spacey's face as he demands to learn everything from Jor-El and the Kryptonian crystals. The inclusion of Brando as Jor-El takes us all the way back to 1978 and the supersaturated whiteness of Krypton. It's comforting after Nuclear Man and the wilderness years. Odd use of a model train set sees Luthor's real estate scam updated. The only nagging doubt is just how he managed make a Kryptonite sheath for his island crystal.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Luthor's <i>Return to Oz</i> moment</b></td></tr>
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Back to Superman, he's returned and had a beer with The Liability Formerly Known as Jimmy Olsen, but now what? As Kent and as Superman he's alone, discarded. The world has, seemingly, moved on. The world doesn't need Superman anymore. Or does it? Handily, Luthor's model train set experiment has some aeronautical ramifications and affords Superman the opportunity to extol the virtues of air safety but ruin a ball game. It's good, and quite the spectacle, but you can't help feeling that Superman Returns could have done with one more big set piece like this one. The tumbling Daily Planet doesn't count.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Hey, that's an interesting theme. Shall we explore...oh, no. OK then.</b></td></tr>
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It's clear that Superman Returns is a sequel and an homage to Donner's original Superman two parter but it's in this homage that sit jarring anachronisms. Superman isn't really updated, it seems the only real updates have been rolling news channels and a ban on smoking in the workplace. In this Internet age what would Kent really be doing in print media? And just who gets to walk back into a job after five years? Especially as he wasn't really any good. It's lovely that Eva Marie Saint lives on the old Kent farm and plays Scrabble but in the city you'd expect a little more advancement even if the city is the misty eyed Metropolis.<br />
<br />
Superman Returns is an OK film, not a great one and it did well enough at the box office to warrant a sequel. Sadly, the studio and director would get distracted whilst the option on Routh's contract would expire. It's telling that he's more remembered as Scott Pilgrim's confused vegan foe.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04785089904094309692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1018840140459450891.post-87610978806644712452014-03-10T20:01:00.001+00:002014-03-10T20:01:36.203+00:00Why Do We Fall?The corpse of Schumacher's Batman had gone cold, nipples presumably still erect, the Millennium had come and gone and Warner Bros were, understandably, nervous of superheroes. <i>The Matrix</i> had come and spawned inferior sequels whilst Fox had dalliances with <i>The X Men</i> and <i>Daredevil</i>. Quality and success was inconsistent. It was all a bit haphazard. For every <i>Spider-Man</i> there was a <i>Hulk</i> and every <i>Blade</i> a <i>Catwoman</i>. Disney was yet to establish and mine Marvel Studios and Time Warner seemed to view DC as an unwanted inheritance. Undoubtedly, there was money to be made but there was no vision, no continuity. There was something missing and it took an Englishman to find it.<br />
<br />
Christopher Nolan and David S Goyer set out to humanise the Bruce Wayne/Batman axis and make us care about the whole package and not just the Batarang round the back of the Joker's head. The rumoured development of Miller's <i>Batman:Year One</i> looms heavy over the story as does <i>The Long Hallowe'en</i> and it's ideas of corruption and organised crime running Gotham whilst a surprising serial killer stalks the streets. Loeb and Sale effectively balanced villains' origins and a surprising twist, something Nolan surely took as inspiration. Not only were the actual comics really being used as source material but the realism and darkness of 80's and 90's Batman was being taken from the page to the screen effectively. Burton's cartoonish realism was being usurped by a <i>Taxi Driver</i> cityscape easily identifiable as the industrial Northeast of the US.<br />
<br />
Nolan seemed like a safe pair of hands for a new crack at Batman. Despite not having an extensive filmography his ace in hand was undoubtedly <i>Memento</i>. <i>Memento</i> was one of those films that Hollywood studios like: cheap and successful both critically and commercially. It cost $4.5 million and pulled in five times that on a release fuelled by word of mouth and viral marketing. Viral marketing would become a core feature of <i>The Dark Knight</i> trilogy and the following <i>Man of Steel</i>. <i>Cloverfield</i> would have MySpace profiles and Japanese drinks but Batman would have 'I Believe In Harvey Dent' and mysterious chanting.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQcPvFQeum9Z8NBT0uLlqUhfqBIgaRqYzHDVnZmdC6NeWIOBUz-QWWq0OMY9LoC_m3xDwxYWRSuKw7Tpcx0etBZUq1Q4o8sTWGG-_2Sc9oJ54CAQu_frWg1-N2TM9Xaody1l3FVRsgfUwp/s1600/batman_begins.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQcPvFQeum9Z8NBT0uLlqUhfqBIgaRqYzHDVnZmdC6NeWIOBUz-QWWq0OMY9LoC_m3xDwxYWRSuKw7Tpcx0etBZUq1Q4o8sTWGG-_2Sc9oJ54CAQu_frWg1-N2TM9Xaody1l3FVRsgfUwp/s1600/batman_begins.jpg" height="400" width="270" /></a></div>
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<br />
Nolan's character driven approach was to be a refreshing tonic for the franchise now twitching back to life. Nolan and Goyer chose to do something not yet seen on film; they chose to fully explain how Bruce Wayne adopted the Batman persona. <i>Batman Begins</i> was to truly be an origin story. Yeah, we all know kiddie Wayne went to the theatre and watched his parents get dispatched by a mugger, but was this mugger really a pre-sheep dip Joker? No, that was just convenient artistic license. Lifting Joe Chill from the comics was much more satisfying. Indirectly, Chill creates the Batman and Chill's time in jail is used to accelerate the story. An amazing ensemble cast is presented as Bruce Wayne grows up and disappears. The double act of Michael Caine's Alfred and Morgan Freeman's Lucius Fox is a perfect antidote to Rutger Hauer's Earle and his boardroom schemes. The corporate shenanigans are far removed from the brown slime, corruption and rain which threatens to swallow up the idealistic Lt. Gordon. Gary Oldman has a knack of looking younger than he is but at the same time conveying huge amounts of weariness and wisdom as he stands alone against the old school Irish gangsters led by Tom Wilkinson. He might have an Italian name but Falcone is more <i>The</i> <i>Departed</i> than <i>The Godfather</i>.<br />
<br />
The time spent laying Gotham's roots parallels Bruce Wayne's training in <i>Batman: Year One</i> but this time Wayne is trained by the ominous League of Shadows. But who is Bruce Wayne/Batman? Nolan chose Christian Bale and looking back there couldn't have been anyone else for the role. Jake Gylenhaal would've been great for me but back then he was too young and inexperienced, his <i>Donnie</i> <i>Darko</i> days whored for a teen turn opposite Dennis Quaid. Much has been made of Bale being ever so method, bulking up from Trevor Reznik a little too much and hating the suit they made him wear. Bale is yet unleash his full tetchiness as McG will testify. It was less <i>The Machinist</i> and more <i>Equilibrium</i> and <i>American Psycho</i> that made Bale the best choice, these films showed he had the physical and mental edge to compliment his undoubted ability.<br />
<br />
Bale would need an enemy of suitable gravitas. Despite his amazingly beautiful blue eyes Cillian Murphy wasn't quite enough. It's clear Dr Crane was a secondary villain but who he was really working for comes as quite a surprise. Murphy is excellent as Crane and his alter ego but Nolan and Goyer didn't make his character big enough, presumably the payback for this was to have Crane as an ever present in the trilogy. Crane's weapon of choice inspires some excellent hallucinations and it's fitting that the action explodes in Arkham Asylum. The hospital had become a comedy dumping ground under Schumacher but is restored to Victorian horror by Nolan. The completion is augmented by the cameo of Mr Zsasz, a particularly nasty foe of Batman.<br />
<br />
<i>Batman Begins</i> sees Bruce Wayne adopt technology and grow into the role of vigilante. Aided by Fox we move from billionaire spelunker and adrenaline junkie to full blown vigilante. Whilst the Tumbler is the most eye catching of the technological advancements it's not the most important. Wayne's improvisation and eye for the theatrical leads him to delve into his am-dram days and come up with the costume. The attention to detail is remarkable, whether deliberate or note the Batsuit is heavy and hot, yet flexible. When Bale put the suit on he hated it, his bad mood channelled through the character to make Batman a figure of rage and vengeance. Everything is explained from the electrically manipulated fabric to the trial and error cowls. Fox is Bruce Wayne's Q and does provide some light relief.<br />
<br />
The same cannot be said of Rachel Dawes. I've flicked through comics, Selina Kyle, Vicki Vale, Leslie Thompkins, Silver St Cloud and Jezebel Jet. All woman of various ages and connections to Wayne and Batman but no Rachel Dawes which probably explains why I find her character so irritating.<br />
<br />
Nolan may not have been convinced he'd get another crack at Batman but Warner Bros went into marketing overdrive ensuring the critical success was matched at the box office. <i>Batman Begins</i> wasn't the biggest film of 2005 (come on, there was a Star Wars and a Harry Potter that year) but it did beat <i>Hitch</i> and <i>The Fantastic Four</i>. All of a sudden those calling cards in Gordon's evidence bag weren't just wishful thinking.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04785089904094309692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1018840140459450891.post-56241946892085233282014-01-28T22:12:00.001+00:002014-01-28T22:16:42.560+00:00Arnie the Panto Dame<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixqvOa3MNJDCGjjT6s6Qr824cOqTlS0-nkQk8hSXo1YxL6Y23zx3KmeCkTWDphLPzAy54V50MIAj8kMgnEPPOcbOLPxs9YkGDL79vGSnezVdG1wrZH-rlTAbBj66hTPM0KzJlCO_jorAZy/s1600/GothCard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixqvOa3MNJDCGjjT6s6Qr824cOqTlS0-nkQk8hSXo1YxL6Y23zx3KmeCkTWDphLPzAy54V50MIAj8kMgnEPPOcbOLPxs9YkGDL79vGSnezVdG1wrZH-rlTAbBj66hTPM0KzJlCO_jorAZy/s1600/GothCard.jpg" height="223" title="" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>The world's annoying bank.</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<i> Batman Forever</i> had been a commercial success and with it a superhero franchise was consolidated. Joel Schumacher's hands were viewed as more than capable and Warner Bros eagerly filled them with $125 million. <i>Batman and Robin</i> was to be pressed into production as soon as possible. It was going a little too well. Bring back the age old problem of superhero casting! Luckily, tensions between Val Kilmer and Joel Schumacher that bubbled under the surface of <i>Batman Forever</i> came to the surface. Did he jump? Was he pushed? Do we really care? Kilmer had already signed up for a new project: <i>The Saint</i>, not the live action <i>Pinocchio</i> which would suit his talents down to the ground. Casting directors looked no further than television's newest heartthrob, George Clooney. Presumably David Duchovny was seen as a little dour. Clooney's 'charm' would be tasked with balancing the escalating acid trip of Schumacher's Gotham. If only they could have found him a jacket that fit properly over those turtlenecks. O'Donnell would reprise Robin and Uma Thurman, inexplicably, chose to be Pamela Isley/Poison Ivy. Despite some casting continuity and a Pulp Fiction hangover the cast looked a little light. A big gun was needed. A big gun with a shitload of bad puns.<br />
<br />
In 1984 Arnold Schwarzenegger was deployed as the practically mute Terminator. It was a stroke of genius to take Conan and put him leather and flick the switch to 'relentless.' The years came and went and Arnie's star grew with them; <i>The Running Man</i>, <i>Predator</i> and <i>Total Recall</i> gave Arnie a special place in most of our hearts. Then Arnie decided that he needed a touch of reinvention and, disregarding Stallone's abject attempts, decided to try a bit of comedy. In truth, it was patchy. Sure, there was <i>Twins</i> and <i>Kindergarten Cop</i> sprinkled amongst the action films, then there was <i>True Lies</i> and as much as I can't abide the film at least Arnie was funny in it. You'd really expect the nadir to be <i>Jingle All The Way</i>. It's the hope that kills you, it really is. <b>Twenty five</b> million reasons saw Arnie accept Joel Schumacher's phone call and top billing for <i>Batman and Robin</i>. To be honest, if I'd been asked to get covered in silver body paint and wear fluffy slippers I'd want a big bag of Warner's swag too.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzgmu1SPLHCWonMEtLuQfM0Jf4fDxMf6HEJX9xlpTdP_p10kgg33nFKmIlbV047wSXjwcO-soaL1sTL34yZmtWcftY2j5Z1FN3LICpdenhkKWv8kaJcsEdbu2IBeVS8l9A72z5RB7u6jd3/s1600/mr+freeze.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzgmu1SPLHCWonMEtLuQfM0Jf4fDxMf6HEJX9xlpTdP_p10kgg33nFKmIlbV047wSXjwcO-soaL1sTL34yZmtWcftY2j5Z1FN3LICpdenhkKWv8kaJcsEdbu2IBeVS8l9A72z5RB7u6jd3/s1600/mr+freeze.png" height="225" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Now there's a man who's just seen Admiral Adama</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
It's not as if Arnie's costume was the main problem. As if switching between a shivery and slightly noncey uncle to a cheap imitation of a Cylon wasn't enough the metallic body paint makes it look like a bad attempt at blacking up. The whole visual concept of Mr Freeze is simply dreadful. A somewhat tragic character resurrected in comics was belittled by poorly CGI'd weaponry and an unhealthy homage to the 60s series. Anyone would think that Batman and Robin was being produced solely to sell toys......<br />
<br />
It's been well documented that Schumacher wanted a 'toyetic' cartoon of a film and what better way of solidifying a marketing opportunity than introducing a new hero? A substandard sub plot allows for the introduction of Barbara Wilson/Batgirl. Hang on, shouldn't that be Barbara <i>Gordon</i>? Well, yes, but then why let years of comic book history and a potential future storyline involving Batgirl and Oracle get in the way of a new action figure with poseable limbs and detachable cape? Is Batgirl supposed to be an opposite for Poison Ivy? Is she a love interest for Robin? Is she there to gently give dear old Alfred more of a role? Is she there to necessitate a cameo for Coolio? Quite frankly the only thing that makes Batgirl interesting is Alicia Silverstone, her burgeoning film career about to be dashed by thi shideous mess of a film. <i>Clueless 2</i> would have been a better career move.<br />
<br />
<i>Batman and Robin</i> is a struggle to watch. Pre <i>Matrix</i> wire fighting and bizarre use of vehicles take place in the ever more confusing Gotham City. The city's pink is pierced by Mr Freeze's blue and Ivy's green and yet it's hard to even maintain interest. The comical inclusion of Bane further pollutes a story of ice and something to do with diamonds and satellites. I'm
sure a Saturday morning cartoon audience would keep up but they'd be
secretly longing for <i>Thundercats</i> to start.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4wEdMrxg5oJRXW7C5t_nrwU9iBZa-JKx_Iwhyphenhyphen7sEesLa8EElDByTxUWRG0LAKtmLB_XN-vnHAXJ7o0D_4nePugzjU07YTkP9egGIGOjw_-QrrRieksQEXx2PJllx8hdSQhHkmdg4LrROT/s1600/legobane.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4wEdMrxg5oJRXW7C5t_nrwU9iBZa-JKx_Iwhyphenhyphen7sEesLa8EElDByTxUWRG0LAKtmLB_XN-vnHAXJ7o0D_4nePugzjU07YTkP9egGIGOjw_-QrrRieksQEXx2PJllx8hdSQhHkmdg4LrROT/s1600/legobane.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>The real legacy of <i>Batman and Robin</i></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
Schumacher wanted one more crack at completely dispelling the memory of Burton's Batman in the form of <i>Batman Triumphant</i>. Thankfully <i>Triumphant</i> went the way of <i>Superman V</i> as nails were rapidly hammered into the camp coffin that Batman now inhabited. Clooney himself called the film a 'waste of money' and Schumacher later apologised for the tone. The damage was so great that Batman wouldn't be seen on the big screen for nearly ten years and when he eventually made it back in <i>Batman Begins</i> it was seen as a bit of a gamble.<br />
<br />
The only real positive gleaned form <i>Batman Forever</i> and <i>Batman and Robin</i> is that they reinforced the idea of Batman should be: dark, brooding and flawed.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04785089904094309692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1018840140459450891.post-51125068698558271692014-01-20T18:36:00.000+00:002014-01-22T21:36:30.461+00:00Forever is a Very Long Time<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2g8HkXS5AkU0rnFAVBFdFsnf51_ISK6q0g2-U3yixwGu9XhsyRBKXrSvpqdyhhYET_ZEj8bYs-qPjUe4YNAXOFzLVJA6Cwl2JCBc7FvCf7nKUhGEN8yy2srAT-MXzPO5c8a-eA3Wsi9wA/s1600/teaser_poster1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2g8HkXS5AkU0rnFAVBFdFsnf51_ISK6q0g2-U3yixwGu9XhsyRBKXrSvpqdyhhYET_ZEj8bYs-qPjUe4YNAXOFzLVJA6Cwl2JCBc7FvCf7nKUhGEN8yy2srAT-MXzPO5c8a-eA3Wsi9wA/s1600/teaser_poster1.jpg" height="224" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>A teaser poster that's arguably better than the film</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Dissatisfaction swept through the corridors at Warner Bros. Yeah, so <i>Batman Returns</i> made a pile of cash but it didn't make a big enough pile of cash. The consensus seems to be that Burton was making Batman too dark, driving him into that cul-de-sac whose residents are only ever Johnny Depp, Winona Ryder and Helena Bonham-Carter. A bit odd considering it was this very darkness which made <i>Batman</i> such a success in 1989 in the first place and help make films like <i>The Addams Family</i> and <i>Edward Scissorhands</i> successful. Still, the powers that be wanted to expand the franchise's audience and so Burton was moved upstairs.<br />
<br />
In the producer's chair Burton had to find a director and settled on Joel Schumacher, he'd made <i>The</i> <i>Lost Boys</i> and <i>Falling Down</i> so looked like a good choice. The news gets better as rumour has it Schumacher wanted to make an adaption of <i>Batman: Year One</i>.
Frank Miller's story of Batman's beginnings and his relationship with
Commissioner Gordon was obviously a bit highbrow for studio execs who
pushed for a more traditional sequel. We have yet to fully embrace the
notion of a prequel. Christopher Nolan is thanking his lucky stars for
that.<br />
<br />
Batman now undertook a dramatic change, harking back to the 60s TV series and noir was replaced by nipples and neon. It was a cynical decision to exploit toy markets and cash in on the burgeoning 60s nostalgia that swept Hollywood; a craze that would involve <i>Austin Powers</i>, <i>The Brady Bunch</i> and, horrifically, <i>Bewitched</i>. Michael Keaton decided he didn't like the direction the film was going in and ignored the millions offered to him, so now we needed a new Batman for the new Gotham. Keaton's decision is completely understandable as Bruce Wayne's vinyl clad arse introduces Schumacher's version of Batman.<br />
<br />
Keaton had been an unpopular casting decision which came good for Burton yet none of the actors he won the part ahead of seemed to be considered for the role this time around. Within days of Keaton's snub came Val Kilmer's casting. Kilmer was passable in <i>Tombstone</i> and did a good Jim Morrison impression but if you don't count <i>Willow</i> his best role is the obscured Elvis in <i>True Romance</i>. Hardly a good CV for someone carrying a superhero film. Kilmer's star power would need a bit of a boost to draw the crowds so the new kid's favourite Jim Carrey was cast. presumably on the back of <i>The Mask</i> with Tommy Lee Jones adding a little gravitas.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY9p7q3EKeVUn01wXVREvKs25Qzbq4psVSdNTZbjhb3Q8B1cGrs6q13pWhfy7KZHD2ZL0SwggoE7PNel7GZWAd_p_8ZzplUhGF-rR4t9ilcp6Q0l0KJ1ZCKsX-cayeOgqXN-AVj1UuXRox/s1600/TRUE+ROMANCE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY9p7q3EKeVUn01wXVREvKs25Qzbq4psVSdNTZbjhb3Q8B1cGrs6q13pWhfy7KZHD2ZL0SwggoE7PNel7GZWAd_p_8ZzplUhGF-rR4t9ilcp6Q0l0KJ1ZCKsX-cayeOgqXN-AVj1UuXRox/s1600/TRUE+ROMANCE.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Kilmer's Elvis: the second best thing about True Romance</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Carrey is in his element as Edward Nygma/The Riddler bouncing around in spandex and chucking out sound effects as he attempts to suck up Gotham's brainwaves. Apparently Carrey has ADHD and it's employed to full effect here. The same cannot be said of Jones. Jones looks and feels uncomfortable as Two-Face, with just seconds spent as Harvey Dent. His costume and make up are impressive but the character lacks a true reveal in the film's opening and his motives are never really explored. Why does he blame Batman? What are Sugar and Spice doing all day? Billy Dee Williams was probably quite pleased Schumacher paid him off.<br />
<br />
So Batman Forever has two larger than life supervillains. The dynamic is different from Batman Returns where Catwoman was more antihero than villain and it was decided that the numbers needed evening out. Wisely, Robin was removed from Batman Returns. This sage decision was reversed for Batman Forever. There was a reason why Christian Bale said he'd quit as Batman if they cast Robin and it's probably Chris O'Donnell.<br />
<br />
O'Donnell represents those perpetual teenagers of <i>90210</i> becoming a <i>Stand By Me</i> wannabe and again is miscast. Robin is eager to learn and aid Batman in the comics and grows to want his independence as Nightwing. <i>Batman Forever's</i> Robin is antagonistic, impatient, dislikeable and more of a hindrance than a help bent on avenging a bomb induced trapeze disaster. If you think that's bad wait until 1997.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpOPDGru8SNamh3LYApiPLamR537lmSmNtrfq2Ndn7APnwWNV2UBegPy_bb1WRyIzeiolT-Z1KYnfr5klwiWSz_31CxJz5lyBI5vpKJ8iDCZWzDtHKKz62YlxhpVbaeS-1ely9T32B1wHm/s1600/batman-forever.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpOPDGru8SNamh3LYApiPLamR537lmSmNtrfq2Ndn7APnwWNV2UBegPy_bb1WRyIzeiolT-Z1KYnfr5klwiWSz_31CxJz5lyBI5vpKJ8iDCZWzDtHKKz62YlxhpVbaeS-1ely9T32B1wHm/s1600/batman-forever.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>MTV Superheroes</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The supporting cast is stripped down in number or it could be that they're simply lost amongst the bizarre scenery of Schumacher's Gotham City. The 1940s hotchpotch has been replaced by a mix of skyscrapers and masculine statues of varying and disorienting heights and inexplicable placing. All of it drenched in pink neon. Office blocks literally face a face of statue for no apparent reason. Is there a hub in the midst of all this chaos? A little oasis of calm? No, there's The Statue of Liberty, presumably dumped in Gotham City after Superman saved it during his tussle with Nuclear Man In <i>Superman IV: The Quest for Peace</i>. Quite how the studio, producers or writers thought this would work is beyond me. Amongst the pink wobbles Commissioner Gordon usurped as a figure of authority by the needless Dr Chase Meridian. Meridian is almost an afterthought of a love interest and provides the classic damsel in distress for Batman to save in the film's climax. Somehow, the noted psychologist is less interesting than photojournalist Vicki Vale.<br />
<br />
Batman Forever is a confused mess, designed to help Kenner toys boost it's balance sheet and give Warner Bros a light, family friendly franchise. There's too much going on, a nonsensical plot straddling commercial desires and reaching for MTV and the <i>Friends</i> generation. Bizarrely, it got an Oscar nomination and an immediate sequel despite the shoddy CGI and disinterested leading man. It's a sad indictment that U2 being on the soundtrack <i>isn't</i> the worst thing about a film.<br />
<br />
In <i>The Dark Knight</i> Harvey Dent says 'the night is darkest just before the dawn.' In 1997 we'll see just how right he was.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04785089904094309692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1018840140459450891.post-49798320892486870532013-12-19T22:16:00.001+00:002014-01-05T18:37:37.245+00:00It's That Time of Year AgainWe're hurtling towards 'Change your calendar or look cheap' day. Or January 1st depending on your mood. It's that time of year where enforced jollity and gluttony will give way to guilt and an empty wallet. That's when it's time to make silly promises to yourself: a month of no drinking, cutting down chocolate, going vegetarian, other half hearted 'resolutions.' Maybe even the doozy, the Big Kahuna: detox. The trouble is it won't really <i>be</i> a detox. You'll replace a couple of lattes with green tea and an extra glass of water, you'll carry on eating bread but you might have a salad with a few added goji berries or whatever else is fashionable. True detox is painful and disgusting, the body likes its little addictions to sugar and caffeine and will punish you for depriving it of a fix. Headaches and bad breath are the least of your worries and you'll still pop the ibuprofen to keep aches at bay, defeating the object.<br />
<br />
So there we go, a couple of weeks without a Dairy Milk before you cave in and gorge on unseasonably early Creme Eggs (don't worry, they'll be on special offer) maybe 'just one' glass of wine, perhaps you'll give yourself a night off from spin class and the treadmill 'just this once'. Whatever it is there will always be something chipping away at the good intention. Maybe you'll dig your heels in and go for the ultimate in New Year's Resolutions and give up smoking.<br />
<br />
I'm a smoker, not an ex-smoker. I'm a smoker. On hiatus, I don't think you can ever be an 'ex-smoker.' My relationship with nicotine has lasted half my life yet this break came abruptly. I didn't resolve to give up. I just stopped smoking. OK, so there was a hangover that lasted three days and fully earned its 'epic' tag but that's just circumstance. As my body revolted against imbibing I couldn't face having a cigarette, my stomach couldn't face that kickstart and it occurred to my fogged mind that I had no craving for the deathstick. In fact I hadn't knowingly thought about a cigarette let alone having a smoke. So that was that, no need to go to the corner shop, no need to wonder who nicked my lighter, no need to have emergency matches. No need to say 'keep an eye on me pint, I'm going for a faaaaag.'<br />
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Giving up helps you live longer, or does it just seem like longer? Was that George Bernard Shaw? If Jed Bartlet doesn't know, how the bloody Hell should I? What I do know is that I don't really miss it. I do miss not being able to get into a pair of 28" jeans. I don't miss the stone and a half I've put on as I graze the sweetie jar a little <i>too</i> much. Almost constant gum chewing accompanies the now perpetual cold I endure but I can smell and taste more. Sometimes a blessing as fruit is rediscovered; sometimes a curse as August journeys on the Northern Line take their toll. I do miss the feeling of a billion black stars exploding in my bloodstream, the chemical warmth flooding my body, the kohl supernova as nicotine infused blood reaches the heart. I do miss the pleasant lightheadedness of the morning's pre-breakfast B&H unravelling the muscles and feeding the receptors created in my brain. I miss watching the blueish white smoke curl and crawl into frosty air, wisping towards leafless trees. I associate smoking almost exclusively with winter. Despite this, I wonder if I ever actually enjoyed smoking or if it was just a habit. There would be that first cigarette in 24 hours that would floor you, raising the blood pressure and greening the gills. I don't miss the lonely walk to the smoking area. I don't miss the disapproving looks outside the hospital or the shopping centre. I don't miss the cigarettes annoying ability to fill your eyes with stinging smoke. The smell of cigarettes is horrible, the yellow fingers are repulsive, the price of a twenty deck is forbidding and yet they still appeal.<br />
<br />
I stopped smoking without patches, without e-cigarettes or even gum. I bought nicotine gum 'just in case.' The stuff is vile. It's flavour is what I imagine an ashtray would taste like and it attacks the gums like a feverish jalapeno begging to be spat out. There have been lapses, drunken of course, as I've let myself have two and half fagerettes in just shy of a year. Pretty good seeing that I went through upward of 30 a day way back when. You can add another 20 deck to that if it was a long night out and about.<br />
<br />
So don't bother with resolutions. It'll just be another wasted gym membership. Just do what you want. If that means you stop drinking or deepthroating Mars bars then stop. Get help if you need to but don't do it because you ought; do it because you want to. It'll never work otherwise.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04785089904094309692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1018840140459450891.post-10759442979949479332013-12-17T21:45:00.000+00:002013-12-19T19:44:20.384+00:00Batmania and the Burton Vindication<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqM5-F6fJV2pApV_kpwi6EVb3ZKUwsjQiSHo3q4Vsgd_Kgz53P-xQEUJzEtQZ4HGtgXcrwpFfRzbMYeIBs8LoKice0Z-rvtQc68Gc2K163dhL23pOWwvu4EUsBvvWnkktCJZsEj6UDule0/s1600/batman-1989-8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqM5-F6fJV2pApV_kpwi6EVb3ZKUwsjQiSHo3q4Vsgd_Kgz53P-xQEUJzEtQZ4HGtgXcrwpFfRzbMYeIBs8LoKice0Z-rvtQc68Gc2K163dhL23pOWwvu4EUsBvvWnkktCJZsEj6UDule0/s400/batman-1989-8.jpg" width="288" /> </a></div>
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The mid '80s were a time of trickle-down travesties and trade union bashing. It was all rather miserable and bleak and I was merely a child. Despite the doom and gloom two things were happening in sunny Los Angeles: Jack Nicholson turned chewing scenery on screen into an art form and Tim Burton became attached to possible <i>Batman</i> movie. Burton, an animator, had been faffed about by Disney and stumbled into success when <i>Pee-Wee's Big Adventure</i> inexplicably became a box office hit off a tiny budget. Further success came with the sublime <i>Beetlejuice</i> and Warner Bros decided to greenlight <i>Batman</i> with Burton at the helm. Then the problems began.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn0I6R18LKlBoipfEtI9PVExgoqywzucHJEQjEdp5jX0wocGpYhxzqjUiYaFYtq0o6wtU4y296QzDwKAKFkgLQxUdf-ZvVp8o-jikpKfO4jFcAgN_wogADxB37tdkHeA2ugFO34K5p1CX6/s1600/batman_thekillingjoke33_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn0I6R18LKlBoipfEtI9PVExgoqywzucHJEQjEdp5jX0wocGpYhxzqjUiYaFYtq0o6wtU4y296QzDwKAKFkgLQxUdf-ZvVp8o-jikpKfO4jFcAgN_wogADxB37tdkHeA2ugFO34K5p1CX6/s320/batman_thekillingjoke33_2.jpg" width="205" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>One of the best graphic novels ever</b></td></tr>
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Now, as we learnt from <i>Superman</i> a comic book movie can't have a smooth production. The '80s had seen the rise of the graphic novel with Frank Miller and Alan Moore
giving Batman a grittier, bleaker flavour, truly The Dark Knight.<br />
<br />
When
Michael Keaton was cast as Bruce Wayne/Batman it seemed that the new
movie would be completely at odds with this. Burton was known for
cartoon colour whilst Michael Douglas changed his name to Keaton (after
Buster) and shed the taxi cab for comedy. Now think back to Batman's
previous big screen outing in 1966. Were Warner Bros making their
version of <i>Who Framed Roger Rabbit</i>? Unfounded omens didn't look good and Warner Bros responded by hiring Bob Kane as a consultant who approved of the project.<br />
<br />
Burton bristled against the producers as he tried to cast Brad Dourif as The Joker whilst they had already approached Nicholson for the role amidst rumours of David Bowie and Willem Dafoe. Who else but Jack <i>could</i> be The Joker? Well on the way to legendary status and one of the few remaining hellraisers of Hollywood, Nicholson would bring Oscar laden credibility to the production. He'd done big, hammy characters with <i>The Witches</i> <i>of Eastwick</i> and <i>The Shining</i> and long shouldered the burden of stardom from <i>Five Easy Pieces</i> onwards. Not that bagging Jack would be easy. An incalculable fee that made the <i>Guinness Book of Records</i> and a contract that would make it easy to be louche were minimum requirements. Let's face it Jack can do what he bloody well wants and we'll all approve at the smallest glint of that grin. Factor in a horse riding accident and an oddly predictable writers' strike and cameras were almost ready to roll. Filming at Pinewood was secret and such was the clamour building that police had to be called when footage went missing.<br />
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<i>Batman</i> was a changing beast. It was changing from a superhero movie or a comic book film into a revolution. The marketing alone changed the nature of the summer blockbuster. Teaser posters were everywhere. Spring sunshine was soaked up by black posters bearing only the symbol of the bat. Merchandising became omnipresent, from the usual novel to the slightly unusual cereal. I've still got my Mattel Batmobile knocking around. It needs a lick of paint and those eBay prices make you faint. <i>Batman</i> had two soundtrack albums with a Prince soundtrack cementing Batman's place in the zeitgeist.<br />
<br />
<i>Batman</i> saw a change in the approach to traditional origin story telling. The Wayne tragedy occurs in flashback and whilst there are a few liberties taken with the comics it's true enough, establishing just enough of Bruce Wayne's pathos without becoming cloying. Unfortunately, we also have an origin for The Joker when the ambiguity and mystery of the comics make him all the more fearful by not giving him a definitive past.<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/PMgGNxyCHsY?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Our opening scenes produce a neat and clever twist as comic book fans are invited into the Wayne's mugging only to be displaced. This displacement is largely down to the film's tone and setting. Our perceptions of time are being played with. Burton's retro-futuristic Gotham is an homage to Fritz Lang yet it's populated by ageless automobiles and muggers taunt us with the very '80s American Express. The '50s curves of the Batmobile caressed the ugliness of the city in a way Nolan's and Schumacher's never did. Amongst the seediness is an elegance and colour is supplied by Burton and exploited by The Joker. Green and purple collide with newsprint and darkness throught the film.<br />
<br />
Our main players are introduced and sub-plots established. A jealous love triangle, police corruption and Mob betrayal give way to the chaos of The Joker as he attempts to eliminate Batman at the bicentennial parade. There's a pace to the story that is hampered by the writers' strike as the middle section of the film becomes a number of set pieces loosely connected. The Joker's mime act lacks build up and the unexplained disappearance of the Gotham City Police Department is jarring as is Batman's attack on Axis Chemicals. It's a shame there hasn't been a director's cut to add some flesh to these bones. There's plenty on show that is glorious, from the pure glee on Nicholson's face after joy buzzer deployment to the excellence of Keaton's performance of the fractured Bruce Wayne, looks like Burton got that one spot on, from the model cathedral to the parade balloons leaking Smilex gas. The juxtaposition of the manic Joker against Bruce Wayne/Batman's (probably more dangerous) pathology is as potent as it ever will be.<br />
<br />
It'll be twenty years before an unnecessary argument over whose Joker is better: an argument that can't be settled by the way.<br />
<br />
It'll be twenty years before the breaking of Bruce Wayne is explored again and Batman's position as a necessary but flawed hero is restored.<br />
<br />
Before then there's some PVC, nipples and neon and too much pantomime but Batman will return.<br />
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<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04785089904094309692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1018840140459450891.post-78252316750184951412013-12-03T20:31:00.002+00:002013-12-05T00:04:22.151+00:00Superman: The End?<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5iWim24LZKpRdlaYTQNUzRf6s1EjHFTAd8IGZ3jJXC-twvGqEKSHAtoiLIfi4Vt92bSgXwBbkKC_iPAF4WvPoDm6zfAGOnjEFY7oCYqWxU449qS4_4kRKWbNf6_JTH0lmRHhXThfNn6Gi/s1600/IV.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5iWim24LZKpRdlaYTQNUzRf6s1EjHFTAd8IGZ3jJXC-twvGqEKSHAtoiLIfi4Vt92bSgXwBbkKC_iPAF4WvPoDm6zfAGOnjEFY7oCYqWxU449qS4_4kRKWbNf6_JTH0lmRHhXThfNn6Gi/s400/IV.jpg" width="266"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>The ejaculation of Superman</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Hang about. Superman doesn't need oxygen again? He can speak Russian? He's got another glowy crystal space dildo? Superman can make things invisible just by squatting near them? Has Superman's outfit faded in the wash? These are just a few of the many, many questions raised by <i>Superman IV: The Quest For Peace</i>. The biggest question of all is just who thought this would be a good idea. Donner wouldn't go near it and Lester wouldn't touch it with a bargepole either. The previous films had been huge affairs, lavish almost but here is the Poundland version. The unmistakable concrete of Milton Keynes dominates as New York's Metropolis becomes a memory. The Salkinds had sold the rights to the franchise, presumably in a moment of prescience, and despite a halving of budget Cannon Films still put the film into production. Perhaps it was assumed that the sheer earnestness of the storyline would drag them through. Cannon obviously weren't content with releasing <i>Masters of the Universe</i> in 1987 so along came another outing for Superman.<br>
<br>
Despite the return of Gene Hackman as Lex Luthor as well as Christopher Reeve and Margot Kidder everything is just a bit flat. Reeve didn't really want to come back and was effectively lured in with promises of stroy input, a <i>Street Smart</i> shaped carrot and maybe, just maybe a directorial pop at <i>Superman V</i>.<br>
<br>
Reeve wanted the story to be more serious; more faithful to Superman lore and a step away from the good time slapstick of <i>Superman III</i>. Unfortunately, it seems Cannon Films' scattergun approach to production and corner cutting took greater precedence. Solid gold nobility in the form of ending the Cold War and nuclear proliferation is the soup du jour. Croutons take the form of tedious underdeveloped sub plots. The corporate takeover of The Daily Planet is uninteresting and Luthor's newly acquired nephew (who is most definitely not Matthew Broderick) is annoying. Gone are the days of Puzo's grand vengeance story arc and Mankiewicz rewrites. And then......then there's Nuclear Man. Dolph Lundgren was away having a dust up with Frank Langella so the 'role' went to the unknown Mark Pillow. Poor old Mark couldn't build a career on these fragile foundations. A flimsy script, dodgy locations and cheap special effects are a plague on all their houses. Oddly enough, no one seems remotely bothered that Lex Luthor's hair has grown back. If I'd been Hackman and was playing a role for the THIRD time I think I'd have had a word. Or a shave.<br>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdyb5XG09uZiInvoPGHwfyikGnTFTDrOaGbxEGgqiWMhwhYsh6eoeU-w3SLf3eQeMU_mQxlVYzrKW48OWFeZekLu2DO0YRt1TsEpG6TScUkRuOTuRVUGCWKGotjYXsXNyhzjknDS5i9QNl/s1600/north.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="145" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdyb5XG09uZiInvoPGHwfyikGnTFTDrOaGbxEGgqiWMhwhYsh6eoeU-w3SLf3eQeMU_mQxlVYzrKW48OWFeZekLu2DO0YRt1TsEpG6TScUkRuOTuRVUGCWKGotjYXsXNyhzjknDS5i9QNl/s320/north.jpg" width="320"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>United Nations based peril</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The last time I saw the United Nations on my tellybox Cary Grant found himself in a spot of bother, now Superman goes for his Polaris Missile Removal Scout badge. ICBMs in their hundreds are rounded up and cast into space. Yes, it all sounds vaguely familiar and Superman really should have worked out how The Phantom Zone broke two movies ago but on he goes. These aren't the only feelings of deja vu suffered during <i>Superman IV:The Quest For Peace</i>. Meanwhile we are asked to accept that Luthor has become a master genetic and nuclear scientist whilst behind bars. Some pre-<i>Jurassic Park</i> genetic tomfoolery sees Luthor make his evil Superman clone and Nuclear Man is 'born.' It's all a bit pointless, Superman first appeared in 1938 and so was nearly 50 at the time of production. As proven by Batman there is a plethora of material to plunder for effective villains. Couldn't we have had an attempt at Bizarro, Brainiac or even Mister Mxyzptlk? No, instead we're left with the strangely animated Nuclear Man. In two year's time Tim Burton will use animated techniques to help The Joker and Batman to much more successful ends.<br>
<br>
Everything's just so flimsy, it's hard to invest or arouse any real interest and you begin to get itchy feet around the 40 minute mark. From 1978 to 1983 Superman was, literally, on top of the world. <i>Superman IV: The Quest For Peace</i> was such a hammer blow to the hero's heart it's surprising that even 1999 was early enough for Warner Bros to bash the reboot button. Especially if those Tim Burton and <i>Superman Returns</i> rumours were true. <br>
<br>
This film's only redeeming feature is the double date sequence. Superman and Lois versus Clark and the entirely forgettable Lacy Warfield. Superman rekindles his slapstick tendencies but it's Reeve's charm that pulls it all together. You can almost forgive him for another Rohypnol Kiss earlier in the film. An epic lunar conclusion is sadly a wasted opportunity as is the Great Wall of China spat and I'm struggling to even wonder that much about all those deleted scenes. Even The Liability Formerly Known As Jimmy Olsen is an afterthought.<br>
<br>
For now, Superman's star has fallen. There's a bigger shadow coming to take over the late 80s and 1990s. The Dark Knight is coming back and he looks a lot like Beetlejuice.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04785089904094309692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1018840140459450891.post-34561400172692195752013-11-17T15:20:00.003+00:002013-11-17T15:20:37.625+00:00What about Synthetic Unity?<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuxcRGokZRd7_OAuFE9DBfSdUL_R0sAka2-FTUT9sUDeNbLvhbcUC9vuxJuCQjg753mNRLvhKG8-oBBF9CEHMXoilmKvMneSzAT4v6xjRCx-SAI2VnJwFUxKtIpxxwWsHG7jIpSX3jDZcJ/s1600/bbc+repton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuxcRGokZRd7_OAuFE9DBfSdUL_R0sAka2-FTUT9sUDeNbLvhbcUC9vuxJuCQjg753mNRLvhKG8-oBBF9CEHMXoilmKvMneSzAT4v6xjRCx-SAI2VnJwFUxKtIpxxwWsHG7jIpSX3jDZcJ/s320/bbc+repton.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>And now Pinky, we will take over the WORLD</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
1983 was a bit of an odd year cinema wise. The battle of the Bonds rang out as <i>Octopussy</i> clashed with <i>Never Say Never Again</i> whilst George Lucas released his extended toy advert <i>Return of the</i> <i>Jedi</i>. Another of the 3s came in the form of <i>Jaws 3-D</i>; three doesn't seem like a lucky number. Much maligned by the public and critics on release Superman makes his return in the less than originally titled <i>Superman III</i>. Now, that title is slightly misleading. Whilst it is <i>Superman III</i>, it's less a superhero movie and more a vehicle for Richard Pryor. Pryor is cast as Gus Gorman a secondary character and then promptly takes over overshadowing Reeve's overdue top billing. Pryor was aided in this by director Richard Lester, the usurpation of Richard Donner now complete. After this, the now mainstreamed Pryor got himself a $40 million contract with Columbia and went on to <i>Brewster's Millions</i> and the like.<br />
<br />
Whilst <i>Superman</i> and <i>Superman II</i> were effectively parts of the same film the Salkinds now have their man in charge to deliver the version of Superman that they always wanted. They've seemingly won the war with Donner but not without consequences. Gene Hackman refused to have any part of <i>Superman III</i> whilst Margot Kidder is marginalised and so we have a Superman devoid of his nemesis and love interest. Their replacements aren't entirely effective. Lex Luthor is replaced by the lightweight Ross Webster played by the efficient Robert Vaughn and Annette O'Toole steps in to be Lana Lang, an entirely unneeded Lois Lane mark II.<br />
<br />
Casting isn't the only departure as Superman III has an overly slapstick feel and veers into camp territory from the outset. The space based opening credits of the first two films is replaced by a slapstick sketch. If it wasn't for the titles and the merest hint of the Man of Steel you wouldn't know it was a Superman film amongst all the sight gags and penguin based near
misses. Pamela Stephenson meanders through the chaos and will be
recycled as the Woman In The Red Dress for <i>The Matrix</i>. <br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho__TIYjcvahl4NRG3aXMw_IE7_pLrVOcoYuUHTOa9RE6yOx6aLWwj-6AK0pyQgUPJkgGtBFGW7pruc2qe-A8QR9OPOVCQhsuhooP_vl0QKZ3jSLpRIfxUKaYnD6_YmKVBexhGpWNCqq-D/s1600/matrixwomaninred6007js.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho__TIYjcvahl4NRG3aXMw_IE7_pLrVOcoYuUHTOa9RE6yOx6aLWwj-6AK0pyQgUPJkgGtBFGW7pruc2qe-A8QR9OPOVCQhsuhooP_vl0QKZ3jSLpRIfxUKaYnD6_YmKVBexhGpWNCqq-D/s320/matrixwomaninred6007js.gif" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>You look very familiar</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
A nice touch with a photo booth reaffirms Superman's presence before we make way for The Richard Pryor show. Pryor is Gus Gorman, a bum who develops a penchant for manipulating BBC style computers. When I was at school there was <i>Repton</i>, we didn't even have the vaguest notion you could use one of those beige beasts to control the weather or an oil tanker. It makes you wonder what a Sega Dreamcast could have really done. It's also slightly scary to think that the iPhone in your pocket is a vastly more powerful piece of kit than anything Gorman tapped away at to analyse Kryptonite.<br />
<br />
Superman III is a very confused film. So much seems to have been done on the hoof and this scattergun approach doesn't lend itself to a coherent story. Why should Kent's return to Smallville coincide with Gorman's need to use an untraceable computer? It shouldn't but it does. The return to Smallville also affords the opportunity for The Liability Formerly Known As Jimmy Olsen to find a rival. Little Ricky might be prepubescent but he makes Olsen look redundant. Yeah Ricky is a bit of a drip but he has more of an affect on Superman than Olsen and Lane have combined in the previous two films. This is all down to the best part of <i>Superman III</i>: Supes chemically induced internal conflict.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_kK1JvXdR8oyHEMlEZkpnj6eM90IY-f5YMJDKRfWj9_p6fS2kKU1Y7YDmyhyphenhyphenPfyxDce6v2kdc-t3rR1NAeljAKTyAvpyF8IHL9pvZS8pbeuBPQp_uYRZTZGgM8b2YbQzLiTLb1p6L_rjG/s1600/kryptoformula.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_kK1JvXdR8oyHEMlEZkpnj6eM90IY-f5YMJDKRfWj9_p6fS2kKU1Y7YDmyhyphenhyphenPfyxDce6v2kdc-t3rR1NAeljAKTyAvpyF8IHL9pvZS8pbeuBPQp_uYRZTZGgM8b2YbQzLiTLb1p6L_rjG/s320/kryptoformula.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Smoking kills. Subtle</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Now, we know Superman is an alien and we know that he's going to have some Daddy issues. Juxtapose that with his protection of the human race from itself and what's left for poor old Kal-El? Who's giving him a foot massage at the end of the day? A little bit of tar based blagging from Gorman and we find out that Superman isn't very happy at all. Some misconstructed Kryptonite leads to Superman, slowly going bad. The change is subtle in comparison to the visual comedy style Lester has employed so far. Superman has a cheeky glint in his eye as he fancies a bit of sexy time with Lana before going on a massive bender. Superpowered peanuts lead to a trip to the junkyard and Superman's internal torment gains physical form. Whilst this makes little or no sense the battle is magnificent and leads to perhaps the most iconic Superman image ever: Clark Kent tearing his shirt to show he is Superman Regained. It wasn't just a case of getting the cape and tights down to the dry cleaners.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIHPWHdoJim41ZSrdwMk-40JF7Khst-oh5GF8DY7NI8rLx9xbHuj523bnzrjmRKJpNdP-2Tc-Qk0MLYq2itukkomXjZ2TLZNkCdSOn5bO4LWXcxctHTnPu8avaYd_Y89vEymT5ARMKiZd6/s1600/superman301-1336330113.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="171" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIHPWHdoJim41ZSrdwMk-40JF7Khst-oh5GF8DY7NI8rLx9xbHuj523bnzrjmRKJpNdP-2Tc-Qk0MLYq2itukkomXjZ2TLZNkCdSOn5bO4LWXcxctHTnPu8avaYd_Y89vEymT5ARMKiZd6/s400/superman301-1336330113.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Hey kids! Johnnie Walker is bad!</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Our reinvigorated hero now has one small job, to defeat Webster who we had largely forgotten about. Webster's evil scheme has evolved to involve oil tankers, ransoms and now a cave housing the world's most powerful computer. You see, Gorman had gotten bored of hacking financial systems and traffic lights on his BBC and felt he needed a bit more oomph to really take control. Apparently weather control isn't enough. So, some pocket based blueprints become a computer that will give James Cameron ideas and Superman is lured into a trap. Now for some more inexplicable goings on. I can deal with a massive computer becoming self aware. I can deal with said massive self aware computer turning Webster's sister into the genuinely scary Robocop forerunner. But I can't deal with the massive self aware computer putting Superman into a giant zorbing ball to suffocate him. I've seen Superman fly through space to turn Earth back in time, I've seen Zod talking on the Moon so why am I now being asked to accept some zorbing based shortness of breath? It's a good job Superman has access to the pink goo from <i>Ghostbusters II</i> to sort this misfiring computer. <br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
There's still time left for a needless cameo from a future Eastender and a few extra pounds per square inch to put a smile on Lana Lang's face. Yeah, <i>Superman III</i> is muddled and overly comic but there are some lovely moments and it probably stands as my favourite of the Superman films even with the niggling unanswered question of why Lorelei plays dumb. Despite all this there's a feeling that the Man of Steel is running out of steam. He's got one outing left in the 80s and it's not one to look forward to.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04785089904094309692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1018840140459450891.post-9428456153459794692013-11-03T20:23:00.001+00:002013-11-03T20:23:52.433+00:00Holy Skunk Sweat it's Planet Houston<i>Superman II</i> is fraught with controversy, or, at least, it was. If I'm completely honest I have no idea if I saw Richard Donner's restored version first or the Donner/Lester mash up. There's a kebab joke in there somewhere that I'm too lazy to make. Due to the majority of scenes being filmed alongside <i>Superman</i> we still have a high level of continuity despite some minor flaws. Brando is surgically removed from the original <i>Superman II</i> edit to cut costs and Hackman stood by Richard Donner and has minimal screen time. The hiatus in production sees Christopher Reeve practically Hulk up and Margot Kidder fade away, yet despite all this <i>Superman II</i> falls into that very small group of sequels which are better than their originals. The main reasons for this look like extras from Cabaret and are called Zod, Ursa and Non.<br />
<br />
Our sequel is primarily concerned with Zod's hateful urge for revenge on Jor-El. The beauty of it all is that we already know this thanks to the original. Vendetta isn't just the purview of the Mafia but it helps when the ideas are Mario Puzo's.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidmJtVYffpEs8m3e1gL7bHBS42Cupmo7Mkh8fuGJmh3K2nShX0iwjuYwkUT0H_nfHiqcstBVS6xdnMVK4UJdFCaku9J9Rdh8PGR4dZ-vaxQM5zlDXb9zblSDuswsn6aOUSN_4lxcWSlYc1/s1600/zodsnightoff.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidmJtVYffpEs8m3e1gL7bHBS42Cupmo7Mkh8fuGJmh3K2nShX0iwjuYwkUT0H_nfHiqcstBVS6xdnMVK4UJdFCaku9J9Rdh8PGR4dZ-vaxQM5zlDXb9zblSDuswsn6aOUSN_4lxcWSlYc1/s320/zodsnightoff.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Zod's Night Off</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Hang on a minute. Zod has been floating through space in the time it's taken Kal-El to grow up. Is Zod aware that Krypton is no more and Jor-El gone with it? I suppose there'll be a handily placed crystal to help answer such questions.<br />
<br />
We are forced to remember Zod et al from <i>Superman</i> due to the jarring introduction to <i>Superman II</i>. The opening credits are essentially a highlights package from 1978 with a brass introduction. It's absolutely ages before that swoosh of Alexander Salkind Presents and still no top billing for Christopher Reeve. <br />
<br />
Reeve builds on his Woody Allen impression whilst Kidder has gone all gung ho in Paris. The Inspector Clouseau theatrics are all a set up for an inadvertent jailbreak just off the dark side of the Moon. It seems that the Kryptonian prison of choice, The Phantom Zone, is a bit fragile near nuclear events. Given that stars are basically supermassive nuclear reactors and The Phantom Zone floats through space this is a shocking design flaw. Brando may not be on screen but Jor-El's presence is definitely felt. That aside, Zod, Ursa and Non's lunar trip is a masterpiece (CLIFF CLAVIN!). It seems that Kryptonians don't need to breath oxygen which is at odds to Superman's almost drowning in <i>Superman</i> and the big suffocating bubble in <i>Superman III</i>. Oh, alright, I won't nitpick but I will point out that The Phantom Zone made more noise than the Death Star blowing up.<br />
<br />
Lois' suspecting Clark of being Superman is paced wonderfully and the false reveal at Niagara Falls is excellent before Clark's clumsiness around the fireplace ultimately reveals him as the Man of Steel. It's just slightly surprising that Superman had to save a child and not The Liability Formerly Known As Jimmy Olsen. Once again the sheer amount of soft focus seems to affect Lois Lane's thought process. Either that or all those hot dogs have gone to her head.<br />
<br />
Once Clark is demasked his and Lois' relationship fully forms and it's now that you see that Tarantino was right when he used Bill for his painful exposition of Superman's myth:<br />
<br />
<i>'Now, a staple of the superhero mythology is, there’s the superhero and
there’s the alter ego. Batman is actually Bruce Wayne, Spider-Man is
actually Peter Parker. When that character wakes up in the morning, he’s
Peter Parker. He has to put on a costume to become Spider-Man. And it
is in that characteristic Superman stands alone. Superman didn’t become
Superman. Superman was born Superman. When Superman wakes up in the
morning, he’s Superman. His alter ego is Clark Kent. His outfit with the
big red “S”, that’s the blanket he was wrapped in as a baby when the
Kents found him. Those are his clothes. What Kent wears - the glasses,
the business suit - that’s the costume. That’s the costume Superman
wears to blend in with us. Clark Kent is how Superman views us. And what
are the characteristics of Clark Kent. He’s weak… he’s unsure of
himself… he’s a coward. Clark Kent is Superman’s critique on the whole
human race. Sorta like Beatrix Kiddo and Mrs. Tommy Plimpton.'</i><br />
<br />
What we're not ready for is Superman to make such a big sacrifice and, quite bizarrely, become a human by way of a crystal box. Superman taking Lois to the Fortress of Solitude will be echoed in later superhero films, it's almost inevitable that Vicki Vale will find The Batcave in 1989.<i> </i> <br />
<br />
All the while another strand of revenge is forming. Lex Luthor has escaped from his jail and is pursuing the secrets behind Superman, hoping to uncover something a little stronger than kryptonite. Luthor begins scheming as he uncovers the relationship between Superman and the soon to be famous General Zod.<br />
<br />
I'll ignore the Christian references as Zod rolls into East Houston, Idaho and Sheriff J W Pepper en route to The White House. Superman is now in a quandary, having given away his powers and getting bitchslapped by trailer trash he realises that Zod will destroy the human race unless he does something. Luckily, conveniently and inexplicable easily he becomes Kryptonian again and we're all set for the Battle of Metropolis sponsored by Marlboro.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxwG2v8nRvTQNz26-CxJNJNShU3ejV3sr8jBoPVvwc0rAiZ8KbbU22PstQNP9be3ZFAG7ObHTQ0EhraIXbliuhVaVDX23T8QGqxKKfcZ7KwPp66jvOIBofMNRuqfDvN7QPKBoO18fOJmCe/s1600/superman_malboro.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxwG2v8nRvTQNz26-CxJNJNShU3ejV3sr8jBoPVvwc0rAiZ8KbbU22PstQNP9be3ZFAG7ObHTQ0EhraIXbliuhVaVDX23T8QGqxKKfcZ7KwPp66jvOIBofMNRuqfDvN7QPKBoO18fOJmCe/s320/superman_malboro.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Superman is bad for smoking</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />In the '70s and '80s smoking was still sexy, <br />
how else would such product placement happen? The Marlboro van
crumpling under Kryptonian is more glaring than the exploding Coca Cola
sign. If any of this looks familiar it's probably because Joss Whedon
ripped it off for The Battle of New York in <br />
<i>Avengers Assemble </i>and the uncanny simliarities within <i>The Matrix</i> trilogy. It seems Hollywood is doing its best to eat itself. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
In a seemingly French moment Superman retreats to his North Pole
hideaway pursued by the Phantom Zone inmates with Luthor and Lane in
tow. A classic double double bluff sees Zod dealt with but not before
one of the strangest things you'll ever see. <br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
The cellophane S attack is bonkers. After holograms and heat rays comes this. It doesn't even do anything except leave you scratching your head. Despite this Zod meets with an unsatisfactory misty end and Luthor is returned to custody. All that's left is to sort out the now, apparently messy, love story. It seems that Lois Lane is a bit selfish and doesn't want to share Superman with his planet saving duties. It begs the question: 'what did she expect?' Rather than a messy breakup and a potential expose in the <i>Daily Planet</i> Superman comes up with yet another bonkers turn. the Rohypnol Kiss wipes Lois' memory and all is good again. Our ultimate boy scout has gone a bit rapey to keep things 'normal.' There's only one solution to this ethical problem and that's a scheming businessman and a self aware computer but that's next time when Superman a meets crap Eastenders villain in 1983.<br />
<br />
One last thing.....whilst everyone kneels before Zod it's worth noting that Bill Cosby doesn't.<br />
<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04785089904094309692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1018840140459450891.post-52060554373380060672013-10-25T22:14:00.000+01:002013-11-06T21:37:37.125+00:00Superman: The Vendetta Begins<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm6UpK5BSxKmHyni8GLY_dZ12xvhyphenhyphenllcYX0YVuQkVDo_MEDgfHm9wpMvy3fvxa1SXSi4Q9Sb6bHj2rR35nSGjtqbtf52cAcA-Hcz3Oa25JYfRj0Wil9UaFxZRZ8sZT4wQ8HjVcYJ7cNfqp/s1600/christopher-reeve-superman-1978-warner-bros.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm6UpK5BSxKmHyni8GLY_dZ12xvhyphenhyphenllcYX0YVuQkVDo_MEDgfHm9wpMvy3fvxa1SXSi4Q9Sb6bHj2rR35nSGjtqbtf52cAcA-Hcz3Oa25JYfRj0Wil9UaFxZRZ8sZT4wQ8HjVcYJ7cNfqp/s400/christopher-reeve-superman-1978-warner-bros.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Look Ma, no wires</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Superheroes all have origins and so have to have origin stories. The trauma of betrayal that awoke crime fighting desire or the bestowal of cosmic gifts need to be explained in order for the audience to buy into the hero and his code of ethics. Now Superman is arguably the purest of all superheroes, the embodiment of hope, morality and humanitarianism: the very best of mankind. But he's an alien. How can you reconcile his stellar immigration and emergence as the World's Boy Scout?<br />
<br />
Easy. Give him two ridiculously iconic fathers and get Mario Puzo to write the screenplay. OK, so maybe most of Puzo's story was ditched by Donner and Mankiewisz but he's still got the writing credit. It helps that it's 1977 and Kubrick has long opened up special effects use and George Lucas is making space age fairytales popular. Warner Bros and Richard Donner set out to film <i>Superman</i> and <i>Superman II</i> at the same time. Quite a show of confidence seeing that this is the first of the blockbuster superhero films; a bold gamble on an unknown quantity as the superhero genre didn't even exist. It seems production was far from plain sailing from the script rewrite to Brando's diva turn and demands, not to mention having to actually cast Superman at three different ages. Was Christopher Walken really offered the role? Burt Reynolds too? Nowadays it's hard to see anyone other than Christopher Reeve as the Man of Steel.<br />
<br />
It all comes together and becomes the perfect introduction. We begin on Krypton, the deep space leg of Bowie's <i>Isolar</i> tour. Krypton is a barren place and essentially a background space for Brando to fill. Brando's Jor-El is a scientist, a leader and a genius. Jor-El's hubris is displayed in his dispute <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilxMio2vbSXAkrEf3oYiD15J6HFm6zEbXl7uNignoFB1ybKbwjX5OwwiVOvHbCMuCcSOH5xfZ9yxr5RgVJfyfiF-atLo7yx6Dn7-62z7sCRuZst7KeeLi1dnXA1qQ3XE1T7xqGQ06xZCaw/s1600/Superman_Jeff+East_1978.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="137" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilxMio2vbSXAkrEf3oYiD15J6HFm6zEbXl7uNignoFB1ybKbwjX5OwwiVOvHbCMuCcSOH5xfZ9yxr5RgVJfyfiF-atLo7yx6Dn7-62z7sCRuZst7KeeLi1dnXA1qQ3XE1T7xqGQ06xZCaw/s320/Superman_Jeff+East_1978.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Do not put that up your bum</b>.<b> A & E will bever believe you.</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
with Krypton's ruling council and not the fact he pops his infant son into a crystal soap dish without as much as a jumper to keep him warm. Krypton's doom confirms Jor-El's theories yet doesn't explain how he had time to record the history of Earth on crystal sex aids and use them to build his son, Kal-El's, escape pod.<br />
<br />
Kal-El hurtles through space and absorbs history, a subtle nod to <i>2001: A Space Odyssey</i> and a slight confirmation of L Ron Hubbard's belief in engrams. Not much happens in Smallville till Kal-El crashes at the feet of father number two: Glenn Ford.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhN5NL1NE5pdqAcH6uVLuO24JrA3sJwEXFDZqeJI_CEGuAkG__s0hhxJPbLmVohxvziXDphtn5CYYkMPGExnUrzPf1BBtehar8QRR0P84vIi6kGONpNELXMFKCH92_5_vuD6vHfEMknmm8/s1600/glenn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhN5NL1NE5pdqAcH6uVLuO24JrA3sJwEXFDZqeJI_CEGuAkG__s0hhxJPbLmVohxvziXDphtn5CYYkMPGExnUrzPf1BBtehar8QRR0P84vIi6kGONpNELXMFKCH92_5_vuD6vHfEMknmm8/s320/glenn.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Best. Dad. Ever.</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Fate may have worked differently and Clark Gable may have been cast as Jonathan Kent and whilst that would have had a cute symmetry for Superman it would have robbed us of Ford's magical turn. In just one scene Ford shows us effortlessly how a young Clark Kent has been instilled with decency and a very 1950s style of American goodness. There are few sadder scenes in cinema than Jonathan Kent realising his heart is failing him. The movie feels like it has barely started and we've so far been introduced to almost everyone important to Superman's development and future including the fleeting appearance of Lois Lane and the reverence for the old Superman TV series. It's not just Hitchcock who did cameos.<br />
<br />
It's about time we saw some scenes of mild peril. Supes has gotten into his red pants and Clark Kent has become a klutz and inexplicably landed a job in <strike>New York</strike> Metropolis at <i>The Daily Planet</i>. He's also developed the rather odd habit of having conversations with a crystal DVD of his father. Don't worry, Air Force One has engine trouble. The aching politeness of Superman in his interview with hardnosed reporter Lois Lane is juxtaposed with the introduction of second hand car salesman Lex Luthor. It seems all that soft focus goes to Lois Lane's head as she swoons and falls in love with the red cape and exposed pants. It's going to be a while before we find out exactly what Luthor is up to so we'll have to sit back and endure the flirting. What could have been a <i>His Girl Friday</i> kind of courtship in reverse is disemboweled by a softcentre voiceover and a flying trip. It's now that we need our villain to come to the fore.<br />
<br />
To the fore Luthor duly emerges. With a plan that wouldn't have been out of place in a 70s Bond film Luthor wants to make a killing on Californian real estate with the handy use of a nuclear missile. It's a scheme Max Zorin would be proud of but there's just one problem: Superman. And so comes the cinematic establishment of a classic superhero subplot: Kill The Bat. For any super-villains scheme to succeed he must first kill the superhero of the piece. Sure, we've seen Bond strapped to laser targeted tables and penned in with alligators but a superhero has to have one specific weakness that can be exposed. The Martian Manhunter isn't too keen on fire and The Green Lantern is famously adverse to yellow (yes, the colour) but Superman is OK as his weakness blew up in space. Kryptonite is gone. Or is it? Of course it isn't and Luthor has got some.<br />
<br />
Events are coming to a head, Lois is bombing along a California road, Superman is having a bath and Luthor's plan is getting close. All the while The Liability Formerly Known As Jimmy Olsen is having a walk by a dam. If Gene Hackman hadn't have been cast as Lex Luthor none of this would've worked as it is we can suspend our disbelief right up until the cheat.<br />
<br />
Yep, Superman, the walking, talking pillar of truth, justice and the American Way cheats. Faced with an impossible choice we are asked to accept the greatest example of deus ex machina ever. The system restore approach to this story's end sticks in your throat and actually goes some way to lessening our hero. Shouldn't a real hero be prepared to make sacrifice for the greater good?<br />
<br />
Despite the fractured production and the unsatisfactory ending Superman is wonderful. The introduction of our hero and his backstory, love interest and main antagonist are concise and brilliantly efficient. The decision to simultaneously film the sequel means a franchise's worth of characters are established along with their motives. This is an absolute masterstroke and so much better than Marvel's Easter Egg approach in recent years. Warner Bros took a gamble and their decision to go big and bold paid off.<br />
<br />
Dust yourself down as it only gets better. Better on Planet Houston.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04785089904094309692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1018840140459450891.post-63213900975611208692013-10-21T23:12:00.000+01:002013-10-21T23:12:31.780+01:00Superman: The Trailer<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyn0YLh_SmufD5T2gEPITv5PhCZpnBnKgLpG1n5y6fhY4EQaUwpFcO2I9727WC2JwnJKeWYVxAWvaokls1Zh369T3uROzOk8RiacLfAbGxZGmmd1aj32ujbG32y7XlkNvrlW7gz6Sdb07l/s1600/mole1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyn0YLh_SmufD5T2gEPITv5PhCZpnBnKgLpG1n5y6fhY4EQaUwpFcO2I9727WC2JwnJKeWYVxAWvaokls1Zh369T3uROzOk8RiacLfAbGxZGmmd1aj32ujbG32y7XlkNvrlW7gz6Sdb07l/s320/mole1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Have no fear. My mighty pants will save the galaxy for the US of A</b></td></tr>
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I love B movie sci fi. All of it, from <i>War of the Worlds</i> to <i>The Thing From Another World</i> and <i>The Blob</i>. Give me <i>Day of the Triffids</i> and a bag of Maltesers and I'll pretty much do what you want. So <i>Superman and the Mole Men</i> should be great, yeah?<br />
<br />
The 1950s were boomtime for B movies and scifi B movies in particular. We're hurtling towards the arrival of James Dean and Hitchcock giving his blondes full colour. In the meantime, the ample barrel chest of George Reeves squeezes into the blue lycra and oversized red pants. Oh boy, those pants are huge.<br />
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Superman was 13 in 1951, a year older than Batman, Siegel and Shuster's creation was already immensely popular for a teenager. So popular that he warranted a shift in a glorified car park to squeeze out a whopping 58 minutes of film. Except, it doesn't really feel like a film. <i>Superman and</i> <i>the Mole Men</i> feels like a Rinso sponsored Disney vs HG Wells mash up. <i>Superman and the Mole Men</i> is what it is and that is a bottom of the bill extended trailer for a TV series. Nowadays it'd be one of those special features on disc four of the special edition you just bought that never quite makes it into the DVD player. The characters are well known to us, there's Lois and Clark, the generic old country boy and the tunnel visioned sheriff. It's the 50s so there's a healthy dollop of suspicion and the threat of mob mentality but no Fonzie. <br />
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In fact, the cut glass diction of Lois and Clark drives this into a rather serious cul-de-sac, mild mannered Clark Kent is far too assertive in the face of the commies under the bed (well, down the oil well). There's no hint of Kal-El but from the start you're left in no doubt that Superman is an alien. He's from outer space. Now, we've been au fait with this for 75 years but it's never really been foregrounded like this. He's an outsider, a refugee and never has Superman felt more sci fi than he does here even when flying or seeing through walls.<br />
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Lois and Clark are brought into a backwater called Silsby to do a story on the world's deepest oil well. Quite how this is supposed to boost Daily Planet circulation is beyond me. But the well is shut! Nope, there's no Timmy stuck at the bottom but there's definitely <i>something</i> going on. Lois and Clark do their best wooden impression of Mulder and Scully and oranges glow in the dark and women in floral dresses scream at the camera. The poor little mole men, all filed down conehead and bug eyes appear and skulk about like this is German cinema. The allegorical mole men have the unfortunate dispensation of walking like they've shit themselves. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9s5wfZ0jwJY679xL7Zo0DK97FMYEb3E0QtUTxjFBdl2qlASKEKi6VNUChNRk-kTtAJ5ZqbKzapsrzFosrGiR1d0UlsVSJNCAWeGT4eFZ60VZ1QHjYErBmpGQh7tFknetnK5dI_wKJnP5q/s1600/mm-windo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9s5wfZ0jwJY679xL7Zo0DK97FMYEb3E0QtUTxjFBdl2qlASKEKi6VNUChNRk-kTtAJ5ZqbKzapsrzFosrGiR1d0UlsVSJNCAWeGT4eFZ60VZ1QHjYErBmpGQh7tFknetnK5dI_wKJnP5q/s1600/mm-windo.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>No, it's not Dan Aykroyd</b></td></tr>
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All tiptoeing and black jumpers with a penchant for making things glow in the dark the mole men may as well have a hammer and sickle on their jumpers and scream 'WE'RE SOVIETS' until they're brought down a peg or two by a little girl who thinks she's just met Orko.<br />
<br />
A mob forms and there's some resourceful vandalism of the town's barbers before a whooshing and the familiar display of strength from our hero who then sets about teaching us all a lesson. Superman's morals are almost as big as his pants acceptance and tolerance abounds. The Hollywood Code was fully entrenched and television was yet to challenge cinema and so both sides are permanently separated and relatively unharmed, the Cold War intact.<br />
<br />
<i>Superman and the Mole Men</i> is from another time and it is difficult to relate to. It's a little too serious and lacks a few elements we take for granted. Lois and Clark need a little bit of sexual tension and Clark definitely needs to be a bit more goofy, a bit more affable. Someone give Terence Stamp a nudge and get him to dig out his cabaret gear.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04785089904094309692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1018840140459450891.post-62553353988141370302013-10-20T00:58:00.003+01:002013-10-20T00:58:13.704+01:00Batman (1966) or POW! How to Kill an Acting Career<br />
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So, here we go with my first foray into the Marvel vs DC Movie Mashup and it's all the way back to 1966. World Cups and Harold Wilson, <i>Blonde on Blonde</i> and an Everton FA Cup win. But none of that really matters. Not when you're thinking about superheroes.<br />
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I'm a child of the '80s and I know two Batmans. One is the Dark Knight: stoic, emotionally stunted and very, very serious. The other is a camp cowboy in grey, unflattering cotton lycra mix with speech bubbles that come out of his hands.<br />
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Batman was born in 1939 and became a leading light of the Golden Age of comic books, he was a dark vengeful detective <i>not</i> a superhero; a man who had put his intelligence and money to use, the perfect foil to the alien Superman. By the late 1950s superhero comics were waning, the Comics Code of America, war and the nuclear age had taken their toll whilst the world was becoming freer as Baby Boomers grew up. At the same time Batman comics were very sci-fi orientated, full of aliens and gadgets. Just as the comics took a turn back into darkness ABC commissioned a Batman TV series. Ironically, ABC's vision of Batman was Pop Art and drenched in camp comedy, practically a parody of Bob Kane's character.<br />
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The series ran for three seasons and sandwiched between seasons one and two was a hastily put together movie starring most of the TV cast. Sadly, Julie Newmar missed out and Lee Meriwether was drafted in as Catwoman. The villains are the real stars and there's a level of innocence and pure fun that makes <i>Batman</i> brilliant. Four TV show regulars form United Underworld, I mean who <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq4K-62k5m1bQiF1ro17Dv4U4FiIP2hI5bu4B3y8eXlXpeVRiIRQ71cQJRMk_LnyL-pRdQHmb4vfvWa-D2cldEkjZIKlmCqWO8_aQmT0A83hZMIMzlXWwlbMg_rCSHLCjo6YgCrRIroDpq/s1600/Batman_villains_The_Penguin_The_Riddler_The_Joker_1967.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq4K-62k5m1bQiF1ro17Dv4U4FiIP2hI5bu4B3y8eXlXpeVRiIRQ71cQJRMk_LnyL-pRdQHmb4vfvWa-D2cldEkjZIKlmCqWO8_aQmT0A83hZMIMzlXWwlbMg_rCSHLCjo6YgCrRIroDpq/s1600/Batman_villains_The_Penguin_The_Riddler_The_Joker_1967.JPG" height="320" width="268" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Just one villain? Nah, I'll take the lot.</b></td></tr>
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makes a superhero movie with just one villain? <br />
<br />
Cesar Romero plays The Joker as a pure clown and it's this gay abandon that makes the character more dangerous than other incarnations. He's so unpredictable which compliments the scheming of Burgess Meredith's Penguin. Bouncing between the two is Frank Gorshin's manic Riddler, a performance aped by Jim Carrey in 1995, whilst Catwoman is essentially the groups pawn, used for bait and reconnaissance.<br />
<br />
A simple plot is stretched over 105 minutes with a clever appreciation of the Cold War and several breaches of the fourth wall. Ignore the huge lumps of ham in the form of Chief O'Hara and the irritant Aunt Harriett and enjoy the saturated colour of the dehydrated United World Organization's Security Council.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbW-hXoH0t-_uQNuAFaUpJyw7rpplsJyTdUh2wTgN4smYv-UWy8K4akzC78-1xiPSDsfnZh3gDLzDtbK9nGTpZGCztDD4u-mA4uWMapt52n0YKnUHaTElbAQjaZQ_q9LF0-MrmNOVcOqBw/s1600/batspray.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbW-hXoH0t-_uQNuAFaUpJyw7rpplsJyTdUh2wTgN4smYv-UWy8K4akzC78-1xiPSDsfnZh3gDLzDtbK9nGTpZGCztDD4u-mA4uWMapt52n0YKnUHaTElbAQjaZQ_q9LF0-MrmNOVcOqBw/s1600/batspray.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Ready for anything</b></td></tr>
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We begin with a bit of high budget tomfoolery and an exploding shark. Yep, Peter Benchley is rapidly scribbling that one down. The vanishing yacht and the imprisonment of Commodore Schmidlapp <span id="goog_822171826"></span><span id="goog_822171827"></span>feel like they could be investigated by Steed and Mrs Peel, instead we are whisked away to downtown Gotham and Commissioner Gordon gets handy with some Polaroids and a slide projector. The United Underworld are loosely headed up by The Penguin and romp around in a, frankly, ludicrous submarine. A porpoise may foil a torpedoeing of the Dynamic Duo but no submerged mammal gets in the way of the kidnap of the Security Council. The cheeky Schmidlapp had invented a funky Dyson which helps store people in their own, individual test tubes. Chuck in a kidnap and an infiltration of the Batcave and The United Underworld are very busy indeed but there feels like there's something missing. The TV series had been built on cliffhangers and set piece fights yet apart 'some days you just can't get rid of a bomb' the ridiculous peril of seeing Robin about to be drowned in a giant Slush Puppy or Batman being fed into the Human Key Duplicator is absent. We're crying out for 'Same Bat-Time, same Bat-Channel' moment. You'd have thought they could have found just one more abandoned candy warehouse in Gotham. No matter, the brisk pace sees <i>Batman</i> come to an enjoyable end. You won't see an ocean based ending again until <i>Star Trek IV</i>. I'm not entirely sure if that's s good or bad thing.<br />
<br />
After a spot of rehydration without Lucozade Sport Batman saves the day and quietly returns to the small screen. He won't make it back to the cinema for over 20 years.<br />
<br />
At least Batman endured, unlike Adam West and Burt Ward. Once the series was cancelled both found work hard to come by having been so heavily identified with the thwocks and the pows. Even a rumoured flirtation with Bond wasn't enough to keep West off the convention circuit before nostalgia saw <i>Batman</i> reappraised and a stint in Quahog. The dodgy rumours of deviancy made it hard for Ward to shed his life in tights, maybe he should have taken that role in The Graduate. Batman himself wouldn't be rid of the camp and colour until the mid 80s when Frank Miller and Alan Moore took the character back to black and a darker, dirtier Gotham. Their work would be the template for Burton and Nolan.<br />
<br />
<i>Batman</i> appeals to the kid in me, the colour, the nostalgia and the camp make it perfect easy viewing and it's unfair to compare it to the modern cinematic interpretation. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhdND0iNTKKi-wg4cVxWhnJpCOi0HmWusybyixGMEewFCNZOd9D6hLjfraSdAsCwELRD-6nePYCCEFzGwXPyKIOy2FSvk0qZfBR7Xf1xzMCALopEdp_SD4O2WcT7PX_6MV4VEDD1MwzZIQ/s1600/10927220-adam-west-as-batman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhdND0iNTKKi-wg4cVxWhnJpCOi0HmWusybyixGMEewFCNZOd9D6hLjfraSdAsCwELRD-6nePYCCEFzGwXPyKIOy2FSvk0qZfBR7Xf1xzMCALopEdp_SD4O2WcT7PX_6MV4VEDD1MwzZIQ/s1600/10927220-adam-west-as-batman.jpg" height="320" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>One thing's for sure: Adam West was a better Batman than George Clooney and he didn't need nipples on his Batsuit</b></td></tr>
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.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04785089904094309692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1018840140459450891.post-47438517723143118052013-09-18T18:17:00.001+01:002013-09-18T18:17:21.897+01:00Booze, Burning and The Black Sea<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Sunny Beach, Bulgaria</b></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjesFKC4OWddwICOD9TsaLB9IBM9OL8B42vrg7BumFMBB-idcuQB-KisTX4eHNY4U0kcn22CVO0Q8fisjZ9E1NmPZxJD7p4dQ4oxsM8Zf_YZa2jjNMHynNLJKJ5X1q79tYdLek3Pfhu_1yN/s1600/DSCN0346.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjesFKC4OWddwICOD9TsaLB9IBM9OL8B42vrg7BumFMBB-idcuQB-KisTX4eHNY4U0kcn22CVO0Q8fisjZ9E1NmPZxJD7p4dQ4oxsM8Zf_YZa2jjNMHynNLJKJ5X1q79tYdLek3Pfhu_1yN/s320/DSCN0346.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>There's a beach over there. Honest.</b></td></tr>
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A day ago I returned from a week's holiday in Bulgaria. I'll admit it, I'm a little the worse for wear but not as bad as I feared I would be given past experiences in Xanthi and Cyprus.</div>
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Bulgaria had been on the holiday radar for a couple of years: cheap, relatively hot and still relatively unknown. Hurrah! Chilled out evenings in a beach side bar without huge groups of pissed up Geordies fresh out of school!</div>
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Evening flights from the uninspiring North terminal at Gatwick meant a leisurely trip to the airport only dented by an inconsiderate Chrysler driver. He was obviously on a mission to prove that it's not <i>just </i>BMW drivers that act like utter, utter cunts. </div>
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I like departure lounges. </div>
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The swindling and overpricing on a preflight pint is outshone by the
perpetual daylight and the feeling that time doesn't really matter as
much. Weak will and a cheeky smile meant a preflight pint was followed
by a double vodka necked as the realisation that our flight was boarding
kicked in. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>In the beginning</b></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></td></tr>
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Holiday mode kicked in completely as we bought further overpriced booze on the flight over. This was all compensation for having an air steward's crotch in my face for the safety demonstrations (a newly discovered peril of sitting in the front row.) Unlike the, more than slightly, inebriated travellers on the return flight we were well behaved.<br />
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Warm muggy air hits you as you leave Bourgas arrivals. It's one o'clock in the morning and still very warm, a tedious coach transfer was made bearable by a couple who didn't seem to know which hotel they were staying at getting on and off the coach repeatedly. Maybe you had to be there.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Bognor or Bulgaria?</b></td></tr>
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Exploration of the area basically gives you an 8km beach lined with two
almost parallel rows of hotels. All of them huge. This is an area that
has been built with the express purpose of tourism. <br />
<br />
Sunny Beach is the
first place I've been to where the tourism feels manufactured, other
places like Italy, Cyprus or Turkey the tourism has sort of evolved
around history or natural features. This is probably why there's a
feeling of 1970s British seaside resort around the place; as if Skegness
suddenly got sunny. The beachside fairground complete with haunted house and mini rollercoaster just needs a <i>Jurassic 3001</i> to complete the Clarence Pier look.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwOXLRFixxeyfLa0E1wbl79qPabiSWiDJniAYlL9YrhQZHI1CAqIvsLIV2lAjoswEI9yzCiS43z3lK81mDyE7DUHV6HQeAU6M4mdXl6mewzfuAOLJABfJr1E5auxCltdLo6Zq_b5W-63dN/s1600/jurassic-3001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwOXLRFixxeyfLa0E1wbl79qPabiSWiDJniAYlL9YrhQZHI1CAqIvsLIV2lAjoswEI9yzCiS43z3lK81mDyE7DUHV6HQeAU6M4mdXl6mewzfuAOLJABfJr1E5auxCltdLo6Zq_b5W-63dN/s320/jurassic-3001.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Why Portsmouth chose <i>Jurassic Park</i> to give a rollercoaster legacy is anyone's guess</b></td></tr>
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The air is heavy with the smell of waffles and doughnuts frying. This place will be hellish at the height of the school holidays.<br />
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Obviously, the fairground wasn't of any real interest to us. It was all about the beach and the nightlife.<br />
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The beach is lovely and sandy, fight for a decent patch of sand instead of trying to work out who you have to pay to rent a sun lounger. Quite how big the Black Sea is is a bit of a mystery as you dip your toes. Thankfully, the beach isn't overrun by jet skis and boats just a huge number of Russian and German tourists. The evenings are for the pubs and bars. Don't kid yourself thinking there's culture hidden next door to The Funny Pub, Guaba or the ubiquitous Irish pub. Why is it that wherever you are in the world there's an Irish pub? the organised bar crawl is one way to ensure you'll lose one day in bed with a vicious hangover. Blame the 'vodka' it's called Flirt and is, quite simply, evil. Don't believe the ads, you'll be too busy trying to remember your own name let alone do anything else.<br />
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It took me four days to remember I'd been in Candybar.<br />
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Behind all the hotels and the casinos seems to be a little resentment towards the tourists from Western Europe in spite of the boost we're giving to the economy. It's almost as if the resort has expanded too quickly in too small a space. The hints of Eastern Bloc still shine in the sunlight but soon they'll be swallowed up by the abundance of tattoo parlours and sex shops.<br />
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There did seem to be a fascination with tattoo shops and <i>Angry Birds</i>. They are practically everywhere. No sign of any <i>From Russia With Love </i>antics though.<br />
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I may have drunk my bodyweight in Kemenitza, got a little sunburnt and banged my head but Bulgaria is alright in my book, nice and relaxed but hectic when you want it to be. I'm looking forward to visiting again. There might be one supermarket I'm not allowed in though.<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04785089904094309692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1018840140459450891.post-83783192302899159862013-09-07T15:52:00.000+01:002013-09-07T16:22:01.922+01:00Hope Lies In The ProlesI was in my mid-teens in 1996 and just getting 'in' to music whilst hurtling towards GCSE exams and apparently growing up. Britpop was in it's pomp and Oasis vs Blur was arguably one of the biggest things on the planet. The bandwagon was big enough to share with the likes of menswe@r (who were great) and Kula Shaker whilst giving some much deserved exposure to Pulp, Elastica and Manic Street Preachers.<br />
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There were personalities everywhere; the warring oafish Gallaghers, the ever changing Albarn, the embodiment of geek chic in Jarvis but no one really came close to the fierce intelligence held by Wire and Edwards. Nicky and Richey weren't happy to just be a bit clever and well read; it was a display. It was a weapon against the mainstream and that's how a song alluding to Auschwitz got to number 2 in the UK charts.<br />
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The first single from <i>Everything Must Go</i> and since <i>The Holy Bible</i> and the events in February 1995 saw a change in tack. Introspection and rebuilding linked with nostalgia and a redefinition of the band's identity to give <i>A Design For Life</i>. <br />
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My first exposure was the video. Mistreated celluloid showing the band in the ruins of the Roundhouse and Nicky strutting around dressed as a Madchester relic. The strings start gently and then the guitars but there is nothing that prepares you for the chorus. Simple, repetitive and now anthemic if you listen to the NME, it was a call to arms; a 20th century 'workers of the world, unite!' The Manics had reestablished their own socialist credentials whilst reminding us that we were still in the midst of class conflict. It would be another year before the Labour landslide and hopes pinned on Tony Blair.<br />
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The song is so self aware, identifying the working class and yet screaming that we shouldn't be underestimated, hints of Orwell, Bacon and Marx all tied together with Blackwood and Welsh mining. These are just a few of the reasons why I love this song, it's just unbelievable it was kept off the number 1 spot by <i>Return of the Mack </i>by Mark Morrison.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04785089904094309692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1018840140459450891.post-74069243713629038522013-07-28T14:16:00.000+01:002013-07-28T14:31:43.579+01:00Manics Top 50 Songs Part II<div style="text-align: center;">
Songs 25 - 1</div>
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This is all laid out on paper, I've shuffled the order and crossed things out. I'm trying to invent new numbers that mean I can squeeze songs up the running order. The only thing I'm certain of is my number one.</div>
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25</div>
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<b>Facing Page: Top Left</b></div>
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This shows how hard this is. This <i>was</i> number four for a while.</div>
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24</div>
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<b>If You Tolerate This Your Children Will Be Next</b></div>
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All those horrid little Britpop kids bought this and then we told them it was about the Spanish Civil War. Cue blank stares and sighs. The video's a bit weird though.</div>
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23</div>
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<b>Suicide is Painless (Theme From M.A.S.H)</b></div>
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22</div>
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<b>Yes</b></div>
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At last, more from <i>The Holy Bible</i>.</div>
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21</div>
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<b>Born A Girl</b></div>
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<b>This Joke Sport Severed</b></div>
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This is getting serious now.</div>
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19</div>
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<b>The Love Of Richard Nixon</b></div>
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<b> </b>Yay! More <i>Lifeblood</i>....no YOU shut up.<b> </b> </div>
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<b>Everything Must Go</b></div>
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A song of cleansing and renewal, acknowledging the past yet trying to lighten the load. We've all got baggage, if only we could all deal with it like this.<b> </b></div>
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<b>You Stole The Sun from My Heart</b></div>
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This is like the <i>Twin Peaks</i> of songs, happy go lucky on the surface before a chorus of darkness and turmoil within touching distance.</div>
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<b>This Is The Day</b></div>
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A cover version of a song I'd never heard. Standard Manics behaviour. There is so much optimism in this song.</div>
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15</div>
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<b>Postcards From A Young Man</b></div>
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Is that...is that Tim Roth? Yes, yes it is. The second of three booming tracks to open an album.</div>
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14</div>
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<b>Solitude Sometime Is</b></div>
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A song that's carried me through some hard times.<b> </b></div>
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<b>Masses Against The Classes</b></div>
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Noam Chomsky welcomes in the new millennium and the song is deleted on release day. Still got to number one.<b> </b>It was number one between Westlife and Britney Spears. Says it all really.</div>
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<b>Motown Junk</b></div>
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Deliberately provocative and still sounds as good today as it did then.</div>
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<b>La Tristesse Durera (Scream To A Sigh)</b></div>
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From the overproduced beast that was <i>Gold Against The Soul</i> this huge song is holding up the top ten.<b> </b> </div>
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<b>P.C.P.</b></div>
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A perfect example of Richey's love of words and playing with them and our own connotations.</div>
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<b>Golden Platitudes</b></div>
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<b> </b>A recent masterpiece and probably the most gentle sounding song in my top ten.</div>
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<b>Roses In The Hospital </b></div>
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OK, the 'Minic Street Preachers' overlay made me laugh. Highly personal and with glorious (if a bit too obvious) nods to The Clash, I love this song.</div>
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<b>This Is Yesterday</b></div>
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If only I'd put this alongside <i>Everything Must Go</i> for juxtaposition.</div>
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<b>Motorcycle Emptiness</b></div>
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This is really low down, sorry. So many see this as the quintessential Manics song but it's not. It's a song that evolved and was clipped and polished to the glorious version included on <i>Generation</i> <i>Terrorists</i></div>
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<b>Stay Beautiful</b></div>
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The odd Beetlejuice video and the sheer bravado of the band that scared the producers into cutting out the swearing make this near perfect. Radiohead swore on Creep but I think a radio edit and an album version of this would be diminishing.</div>
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<b>No Surface All Feeling </b></div>
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This needs to be listened to as the sun sets.</div>
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<b>Judge Yr'self</b></div>
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This was for <i>Judge Dredd</i>? I'm not sure Stallone would've got it. Quite how this has been so neglected I don't know.</div>
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<b>Faster</b></div>
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The distillation of Richey in crystalline perfection. It still makes me smile at just how many complaints the BBC received after this.</div>
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<b>Design For Life</b></div>
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A song that works for everyone. Ignore the idiots who drunkenly shout along to the chorus, another casualty of Britpop, instead cherish this truly anthemic song.<br />
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So, there it is. Not too much tinkering but still plenty had to be cut out.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>My handwriting isn't all <i>that</i> bad</b></td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04785089904094309692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1018840140459450891.post-54068024025992553432013-07-28T13:09:00.001+01:002013-07-28T14:22:34.255+01:00Manics Top 50 Songs Part I<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>The countdown part I (50 - 26)</b></div>
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So, encouraged by Twitter and <a href="http://newchartriot.blogspot.co.uk/" target="_blank">New Chart Riot</a> I sit with a blank piece of paper, some CDs and my fruit based MP3 player. I'm determined not to look at other lists that might sway my judgement. I have a red pen for corrections and we're off. <br />
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50<br />
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<b>Automatik Tecknicolour</b><br />
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I've been listening to a lot of Kraftwerk and Neu! lately so the title of this hidden away song grabbed me. Possibly the most obscure track I've chosen.<br />
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49<br />
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<b>RP McMurphy</b><br />
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Hang on, it's not <i>all</i> B sides is it?<br />
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48<br />
<br />
<b>Small Black Flowers That Grow In The Sky</b><br />
<br />
Wedged between two huge tracks on <i>Everything Must Go</i> is this delicate piece. It includes a harp. What's not to love?<br />
<br />
47<br />
<br />
<b>Umbrella (cover)</b><br />
<br />
Yeah, a cover version! Kicks Rihanna in the face.<br />
<br />
46<br />
<br />
<b>All We Make Is Entertainment</b><br />
<br />
45<br />
<br />
<b>Let Robeson Sing</b><br />
<br />
<i>Know Your Enemy</i> isn't my favourite, it's OK, <i>My Guernica</i> comes later.<br />
<br />
44<br />
<br />
<b>All Is Vanity</b><br />
<br />
43<br />
<br />
<b>Damn Dog</b><br />
<br />
A late change of mind saw this come in and boot out a <i>Lifeblood</i> track.<br />
<br />
42<br />
<br />
<b>Underdogs</b><br />
<br />
41<br />
<br />
<b>From Despair To Where</b><br />
<br />
Probably should be higher but this is hard work, this list.<br />
<br />
40<br />
<br />
<b>Further Away</b><br />
<br />
More from <i>Everything Must Go</i>? Yes, and there's plenty more where this came from.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
39<br />
<br />
<b>Mausoleum</b><br />
<br />
More than ten songs in before we get to <i>The Holy Bible</i> and the horror and violence being thrust into your face. Excellent.<br />
<br />
38<br />
<br />
<b>Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head</b> <b>(cover)</b><br />
<br />
I nearly went with <i>Last Christmas</i> but this is the perfect example of how the Manics can be playful as opposed to political, inaccessible and difficult.<br />
<br />
37<br />
<br />
<b>Drug Drug Druggy</b><br />
<br />
36<br />
<br />
<b>Little Baby Nothing</b><br />
<br />
35<br />
<br />
<b>Australia</b><br />
<br />
Kidnapped and made to sell holidays and beer this song still remains brilliant.<br />
<br />
34<br />
<br />
<b>Your Love Alone</b> <b>Is Not Enough</b><br />
<br />
Hmmm, have I dispensed with the duets already?<br />
<br />
33<br />
<br />
<b>Revol</b><br />
<br />
Bonkers. Nonsensical. Ridiculous. Marvellous.<br />
<br />
32<br />
<br />
<b>My Guernica</b><br />
<br />
Another that should really be higher up the list.<br />
<br />
31<br />
<br />
<b>Jackie Collins Existential Question Time</b><br />
<br />
You see this on a track listing and it raises eyebrows, then you go and question the morality of suburbia.<br />
<b> </b><br />
30<br />
<br />
<b>Methadone Pretty</b><br />
<br />
The first line says it all.<br />
<br />
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<br />
29<br />
<br />
<b>Love's Sweet Exile</b><br />
<br />
Is this a little Generation Terrorists cul de sac? <br />
<br />
28<br />
<br />
<b>You Love Us</b><br />
<br />
27<br />
<br />
<b>Kevin Carter </b><br />
<br />
I remember at the O2 gig there were a couple of blokes in the queue for the gents who didn't know who Kevin Carter was. The Manics always encouraged us to read, to learn, to expand horizons. I felt sorry for those two blokes.<br />
<br />
26<br />
<br />
<b>Sorrow 16</b><br />
<br />
Maybe the earliest song included in my countdown.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b><br /></b>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04785089904094309692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1018840140459450891.post-87314862347912598742013-06-29T17:59:00.000+01:002013-06-29T17:59:03.994+01:00Yeah, so, this happened.My curiosity was pricked and a sense of wanting to know was awoken inside. Thoughts began to circle closer to the 'Church.'<br />
<br />
Yeah, like everyone, I'd heard about the tithing and the extortion, giggled at the aliens that apparently floated around and puzzled at how people could buy into it. Then a thought hit me: wouldn't Christianity be treated almost exactly the same as Scientology if the Bible had surfaced in the 1950s?<br />
<br />
So, I had a little rummage and came across the gateway to L. Ron Hubbard's 21st Century world and took the Oxford Capacity Analysis questionnaire. Two hundred questions apparently designed to discover your personality. Two hundred questions of varying degrees from the fairly superficial 'are you a slow eater?' to the downright odd 'do you browse through railway timetables for pleasure?' I've paraphrased and these are the only questions I really remember. I wondered how my multiple-choiced answers to this type of question be able to fit together a picture of me. Miles away my answers were being plotted onto a graph of my personality.<br />
<br />
I'm naturally sceptical and expected the results to be less than positive yet still resolved to go and see what the fuss was about. However, even as I exited Blackfriars tube and looked at the London Eye in the distance, I was in two minds. Before I knew it Beck had shuffled onto my iPod and I was stood outside the flat facade of the Church of Scientology. Plasma screens shine forward from between the marble-esque slabs and a revolving door is spinning as two girls in their mid-twenties enter.<br />
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<br />
The interior is a cross between embassy and hotel foyer, with a hint of airport waiting area. The staff are young and fairly serious looking. I know I'm being paranoid but their looks were bordering on stares. Announce your purpose and you're whisked away to another floor. It's a tour now and my guide, named after a perfume, deposits me in the bookstore. Straight into the sales pitch. Admirable, yet all I care about is that Hubbard has had his books translated into Latvian. Banner posters laud how many books Hubbard has had published and, <i>yawn</i>, become bestsellers. There can't be many books out there that haven't been on the <i>New York Times</i> Bestseller list. I decline my first opportunity to purchase some of Hubbard's literal wares and am shipped off to 'The Exhibition'. Not so much an exhibition but an extended bookstore, albeit with added DVDs and interactive plasma screens. I am left to my own devices as my guide toddles off to fetch my test results. I flick through video testimonials of Dianetics users and success stories of the Scientology purification diet, all strangely devoid of any specifics. Time ticks away, quite a lot of time actually. I begin to step away from the videos in case there is some subliminal message I'm being exposed to. My guide still hasn't come back and I'm beginning to get bored. Saving me from a propaganda film about Volunteer Ministers my guide returns and all the rumours of Scientology's evil schemes and omnipresence are reduced to a joke as I am informed that my test results can't be found. Despite previous confirmation of results submission I have to sit the test again in good old fashioned pencil and paper style. I console myself that the world won't be taken over by an organisation that's struggling with the Data Protection Act and a decent filing system.<br />
<br />
I leave the other testees to complete as I am whisked away to glass walled box and then it begins. My perfume guide begins to explain my results, naturally they're not good. Her description of my personality (neatly categorised into ten points) is far from favourable. The test shows me to be 'Unstable Dispersed,' 'Depressed' (although this bounces up and down, so I presume I'm now manic), 'Nervous,' 'Withdrawn' and despite scoring well within the ideal zone my positive scores in the fields of 'Inhibited' and 'Uncertainty' are also bad. Well, bugger me, I'll get a free therapy session out of this. I try to suppress a little grin at the forlorn state of my life before the script kicks in.<br />
<br />
My guide, now shifting to recruiter, has me in her tractor beam. The interpretation of my scores leads her, via a fairly rigid sales script, to diagnose hidden traumas within my childhood. Now it gets a little uncomfortable, despite my protestations that my childhood was fairly normal (I'm not saying anything about the lack of time I have for my family) she won't relent. The back of my brain is flickering with memories of 'Quid Pro Quo,' a familiar voice is pushing itself to the front of my mind. Almost verbatim Dr Hannibal Lecter is quoted. I even went back to the film to double check.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
That stare pushed me down and into the back of the seat. It was difficult to resist but resist I did. Her tone changed and became a little softer asking me what would be the one part of me I would wish to change. Silence was not the required answer and so I was steamrolled straight into another sales pitch. No, I didn't want a Dianetics DVD but I was cornered by a short course in self confidence. My relentlessly being pushed into signing up and parting with a few quid seemed to be the goal and escape was made via a vague promise that I'd pick the phone up once I'd gotten home and checked my diary. I can only assume that they've realised the phone number I submitted wasn't mine and I can only apologise to the person who they got through to. Since I'd set foot in the building not one person had mentioned spiritual advancement, guidance or how to deal with Thetans.<br />
<br />
In the space of just over thirty minutes I'd been targeted and converted from someone with a vague sense of curiosity into a cash cow in need of guidance. Who knows, if they hadn't have gone in so hard they might have been a bit more successful but in the end this was a double glazing sales pitch gone feral. Understandably, the Scientologists have got to pursue their audience a little harder than the older religions although I suspect they might be better off having a clear belief structure as a sales pitch instead of coming over as a tax efficient pyramid scheme. It's interesting that spellchecker wants to change Scientologists to Syndicalists. I'm happy to remain a Preclear, although I may well be a 'Suppressive Person' now, and might give the Mormons a poke next.<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04785089904094309692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1018840140459450891.post-17733733729045540982013-04-15T22:52:00.002+01:002016-01-18T21:40:12.078+00:00David Bowie Is...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It'd been a while since I'd visited the V&A Museum with The Science and The British Museums holding arguably more appeal.<br />
<br />
That was until they booked Bowie. The tapping of fingers building as the calendar slowly worked it's way to the on sale date. Not quite Glastonbury Sunday but there was certainly an air of gig ticket as slots at the exhibition filled up. A couple of days in and weekends were booked solidly for months. Omar Sharif and Tutankhamen at the O2 could only dream of this popularity.<br />
<br />
With beautifully acquired tickets came the inexorable wait til 'the day'. Time was joyously booked off work and coffee and muffins were arranged whilst neglecting the fact 'the day' clashed with school holidays. Grit your teeth, get through it. It's worth it.<br />
<br />
The V&A is warmer than The British Museum despite being home to just as much marble. Funnelled through the gift shop you're spat out onto the far side, sunshine pouring through from the courtyard, but you're early. The queue is forming slowly as a guide adopts a Noah stance letting you pick up your audio guide two by two.<br />
<br />
The steady stream of people pads upstairs, there are actually a few too many people. The nudges and shuffling irritate for a while, just as the almost (but not quite) achievement by Sennheiser on their audio guide does. Stand in just the wrong spot and three soundtracks fight to be heard. Before any of these inconveniences though is the Tokyo Pop vinyl suit. Yamamoto's frankly ridiculous design straddles the entrance and you begin to get the feeling that this isn't so much an exhibition but a show.<br />
<br />
On entering the exhibition you are met by a Gilbert and George video. Looping as you stare at it trying to work out why it's been placed there ahead of a more obvious piece. A little further round it clicks. This is an exhibition of how Bowie mixed art and performance, theatre and music to pretty much dominate two decades or so of the last century.<br />
<br />
Hurtle through Bowie's formative years, see bands come and go and a steely resolve build; The Manish Boys and the Konrads as prototype Spiders. A Haddon Hall developed blueprint waiting for that little piece of luck to be made real. J.G. Ballard, Lindsay Kemp and Pierrot jostle as influences alongside the idolised Chuck Berry and Elvis Presley before that little piece of luck sparks the touchpaper. NASA's Space Program reaches it's ultimate goal and the BBC go for a gimmick. Bowie gets his first big hit on the back of the wave to the future represented by Bill Anders' <i>Earthrise </i>photo.<br />
<br />
Pick up the pace a little as in the distance you can hear snatches of <i>Ziggy Stardust</i> and <i>Rebel Rebel</i>. Come within touching distance of Warhol just as the exhibition gets a little samey. Bowie's penchant for graph paper and sometimes poor spelling filling the walls. Then it hits you.<br />
<br />
You're timing's a little off: you've caught that <i>Top of the Pops</i> performance of <i>Starman</i>
at just the wrong time, or have you? You've missed the chorus but now
in a mirrored triangle Bowie is pointing at the camera. He's breaking
the fourth wall. He's singing to you. You. Look past <i>Somewhere Over The Rainbow</i>, the (alarmingly
small) jumpsuit and there's Ziggy draping his arm round Mick Ronson and
upsetting the 1970s. Such an innocuous move by today's standards makes
you smile. You wait for the video to loop round so you can catch it
from the beginning and have that moment to yourself all over again. <br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
Bound through the explosion of Ziggy and the excess of <i>Aladdin Sane</i> as stage wear and small things begin to occur to you. There was a <i>lot</i> of smoking going on and I used to be able to get through forty a day. Also, Bowie is tiny. On TV and video he looks like he's some kind of elfin giant, a little emaciated by the cocaine but still huge. Yet from his clothes and a well placed notebook you find that he's got a 26.5" waist and can't be more than 5' 9" or 10". Was it all hairspray and platform shoes? Freddie Buretti's ice blue suit imposes in the darkness and the <i>Ashes to Ashes</i> Pierrot juxtaposes the Thin White Duke ensemble starkly. Cocaine, sequins, lipstick and cigarettes are everywhere but so is reinvention. The evolution of the album artwork shows a constant desire to challenge perception of Bowie and to sometimes whitewash the past in order to start again. The development of <i>The Next Day</i> and <i>Scary Monsters...</i> artwork exemplify this although I'd quite happily obscure the cover of <i>Pin Ups</i>. You flick through the LP covers and skim through Paul Morley's hidden essays. A snatch of the verbalizer and diaries before the presence of Eno is felt. Seeing the Oblique Strategy cards seems a little odd. There is just so much information to process. No wonder Bowie retreated to Berlin.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRRHjZgHM9vtoR2X4grPfu_CUW0XdrFF1kptGe01i2FWGmvV65tzg9TZEz2aaMJr6weZGSSM8ekDeHNHeXNjOccRNuGzg6OpuIxJKzRSblz7HnsxE34XJacqUjDhWMiD5h73R8CocRi6cf/s1600/arc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRRHjZgHM9vtoR2X4grPfu_CUW0XdrFF1kptGe01i2FWGmvV65tzg9TZEz2aaMJr6weZGSSM8ekDeHNHeXNjOccRNuGzg6OpuIxJKzRSblz7HnsxE34XJacqUjDhWMiD5h73R8CocRi6cf/s1600/arc.jpg" /></a>The Berlin section is where the exhibition comes into its own. You can touch the walls of Thomas Newton's spaceship before everything becomes monochrome. The binary feel of Berlin is accompanied by the starkness of Bowie's recuperation and creative explosion that gave us <i>Low</i> and <i>Station to Station</i>, <i>Lodger</i> and <i>"Heroes"</i>. The monochrome area invokes Kraftwerk and memories of when Iggy Pop nailed it and a probable peak before the bloated 80s of <i>Serious Moonlight</i> and <i>Glass Spider</i>. Look at the stage model for the <i>Serious Moonlight</i> tour, it's pure distilled 80s, you can smell the peroxide and pastel coloured shoulder pads.<br />
<br />
<br />
There's time for one last hurrah as the lure of the gift shop builds. This comes in the form of <i>Rock & Roll Suicide</i> from the night Bowie killed the Spiders in Hammersmith. The video is played on a screen that seems as big as a bus and you'll fight back a tear or two as Ziggy sashays across the stage for the last time. It was about this time that a nearby mother was harangued by her teenage daughter. The daughter complaining that Bowie dressed like a girl and all too skimpily. All the time bordered by more outfits ranging from <i>Diamond Dogs</i> to Glastonbury in 2000. It's clear now that Bowie has kept absolutely everything and this is all just the tip of the iceberg. The light is brighter now and you're near the end, content.<br />
<br />
Try not to spend too much in the gift shop.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04785089904094309692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1018840140459450891.post-30282245090939555572013-02-16T18:44:00.001+00:002013-02-27T07:35:39.860+00:00Return of the Bat<br />
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<br />
It's 1992 and the fledgling decade is shaking off it's inherited neon legwarmers and trying to work out if acid house will last in the mainstream. Amongst the day-glo and smiley faces Warner Bros held a dark card. Thanks to grossing over $400 million 1989's <i>Batman</i> was always going to have a sequel.<br />
<br />
Tim Burton returns to his Art Deco Gotham City and the strange mix of the stylised 1920s and 1980s is given a dusting of snow. Many of the ensemble cast return as Burton begins to display the trait of working with his favourites. Hence the fleeting glimpse of Peewee Herman before the opening credits. Obviously the biggest problem is following Nicholson's Joker. Nicholson smiled wickedly as he chewed through the original's scenes and the only real way to follow him is with two Supervillains. The comics are trawled and Catwoman and The Penguin are chosen.<br />
<br />
The Penguin is, physically, one of the most recognisable of Batman's foes, even if he is basically a bit crap. Burton and his team design a grotesque monster of a man, leaning heavily towards Victorian freak show and a hint of <i>The Elephant Man</i>. This is reinforced by The Penguin's back up consisting of The Red Triangle Circus Gang who are just lacking a bearded lady. There were few actors around who could possible fit The Penguin mould and Danny DeVito is an automatic choice. To balance the Penguin's far fetched freak show is another villain; the manipulative businessman Max Shreck. Played by Christopher Walken, Shreck is the connection between the underworld and more 'respectable' society. Quite how a department store manager has become so powerful is left unanswered. Perhaps Shreck is a little nudge towards <i>Twin Peaks</i> and Jerry Horne.<br />
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Catwoman presented a different challenge. Readers of the comics will know that Catwoman isn't so much a villain but more an anti-hero, the lines further blurred by the affair with Batman as well as the 'real life' shenanigans between Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle. The camp flirtiness of the 60s TV series has been replaced and fetishised as a tormented Kyle discovers PVC and home tailoring. A twist of fate saw Michelle Pfeiffer replace Annette Bening in the role. Very fortunate for Pfeiffer who negotiated a deal similar to Nicholson's for the original where he took a slice of the box office receipts. Miss Orange County learnt a few things since <i>Grease 2</i>. Not bad seeing that the rumour mill had her competing with Cher (?), Bridget Fonda and a rather determined Sean Young amongst others.<br />
<br />
There's a sense of ambition about Batman Returns that was absent with <i>Batman</i>. Where <i>Batman</i> is wholly built around The Joker and his set pieces <i>Batman Returns</i> has a more coherent story. Despite problems with a writer's strike the story of The Penguin's revenge cut with Catwoman's attempts at discovery flow reasonably well. As well as the Christmas setting there are other pseudo-religious undertones; Shreck's God Complex and The Penguin's grand plan all beginning with a Moses basket opening and a resurrection. Okay, not resurrection as such, more feline CPR. Burton's Batman universe is expanding and the first real tremblings of a cash cow for Warner Bros can be felt. <br />
<br />
Yet whilst the storyline is more grandiose and the cast is bigger and heavier there have been trade offs. <i>Batman Returns</i> feels very claustrophobic due to it almost entirely being filmed on a soundstage. Location use is sparse. The palette has been considerably darkened. Although in keeping with the characters Gotham is now almost exclusively black and white, the only colour coming from the occasional splash of sewer green and a little pink from Selina Kyle. Even the circus is practically monochrome. I'm not sure if this was deliberate or a side effect of Warner Bros' secrecy. Perhaps it was a cut in costs, that would also explain Souixsie and the Banshees rather than Prince. With regards to music it is, at times, almost unbearable. Elfman's score is overly loud, almost to the point of distraction and constant.<br />
<br />
And so we seem to have mixed driving forces behind the film: an
expansive idea and story constrained by odd budget choices as if the
producers lost faith along the way. We could have been presented with a
wonderful film that would have made the Batman franchise a juggernaut.
Instead we have a good film that, unfortunately, contains all the tools
that Schumacher will use to destroy the franchise from 1995 onwards. <br />
<br />
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Burton does what Burton does, he juggles a band of misfits around inside
a black snowglobe. You just knew that sooner or later he'd get his
hands on <i>Alice In</i> <i>Wonderland</i>. Burton retains his cartoon
feel whilst losing the animation that was present in Batman. This is
best seen as the Bat-boat homes in on The Penguin's mechanical duck. <br />
All set amongst the impressive model work of Gotham Zoo. The destruction of the zoo is more impressive than the Batwing's crash into the cathedral in <i>Batman</i>.<br />
<br />
Naturally, I have compared <i>Batman Returns</i> to it's predecessor. Technically, <i>Batman Returns</i> is a better, more complete film. Although it does have flaws but these are only really looked at because the film didn't make as much money as Warner Bros wanted after <i>Batman. </i>However, <i>Batman</i> may have punched above it's weight in a summer season devoid of superhero movies since the mid-80s. <i>Batman Returns</i> should really be seen as the first modern superhero movie. A little more faith in Burton's vision of Batman could've seen further sequels in this vein. Instead, <i>Batman Forever</i> begins a long, camp death rattle that pretty much killed superhero movies until the 2000s. You could argue that the DC films have never really recovered from Joel Schumacher if you compare their route with Marvel's <i>Avengers</i> franchise and it's build up especially when it was seen as a gamble for Warner Bros to let Nolan make <i>Batman Begins</i>.<br />
<br />
Above all, <i>Batman Returns</i> is darkly gorgeous and a little under appreciated in my eyes, it contains the fledgling ideas that Batman is more than a man, an idea Christopher Nolan will hang his hat on. For every bonkers giant emperor penguin pallbearer you have one of Catwoman's deaths and after all that fake snow has been swept up you have the knowledge that if this had been made in 1997 it would have starred Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham Carter. Count yourself lucky. Whilst Burton probably can't handle movies with big budgets and the associated expectations (see <i>Mars Attacks!</i>), <i>Batman Returns</i> is probably best summed up by Ty Burr in<i> Entertainment Weekly</i>; he wrote that "Yet for all the wintry
weirdness, there's more going on under the surface of this movie than in
the original. No wonder some people felt burned by <i>Batman Returns</i>: Tim Burton just may have created the first blockbuster art film."<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV_cunQjCKN0wIQMGtJ5y21mqZba2sQ0hbUzZP6GkmLDqxvpJCjUJBNG2MRR6p4ypxAe9rZaTEkxUsEUnubQpJrILUqSt6UGSUxofqNRz-lwNmKBsWWH_E4XJmnq1WD5BnNi9L7V8ghy6C/s1600/Batman-01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV_cunQjCKN0wIQMGtJ5y21mqZba2sQ0hbUzZP6GkmLDqxvpJCjUJBNG2MRR6p4ypxAe9rZaTEkxUsEUnubQpJrILUqSt6UGSUxofqNRz-lwNmKBsWWH_E4XJmnq1WD5BnNi9L7V8ghy6C/s200/Batman-01.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Yes, I have chosen to ignore the one button in the Batmobile that does <i>everything</i>.</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04785089904094309692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1018840140459450891.post-66314840466572264832012-12-22T18:16:00.002+00:002012-12-22T18:16:50.031+00:00It may be gone off milk but have some respect.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The letter aitch stands strong and powerful above the Periodic Table.
It's two thirds of life locked in with an atom of oxygen. It leads the
line all over the http led Internet yet we abandon it daily looking at it with the contempt held for the other consonants that want to be vowels.</div>
<br />
I can be a little picky, I'll grant you that but this is no excuse to ignore the gradual dumbing down and Americanisation in the supermarket.<br />
<br />
We all go to the supermarket, whether it's for a full tonne's worth of Christmas holiday food or a quick pint of milk and a scratchcard. They're convenient, they're cheap, they're everywhere. They can't spell and think grammar is a needless ingredient. Yes, there was the '10 items or less' debacle at Waitrose but seemingly unnoticed and more insidious is the obliteration of the letter 'H'.<br />
<br />
The sometimes silent and often mispronounced consonant that could be a vowel. Aitch should stand centrally in the word 'yoghurt' handily dividing the word into it's syllables. As long as you're not Sainsbury's, Tesco or even the actual makers of dairy goodness like Muller. At least Muller have the good grace to avoid using the word altogether and call things Fruit Corners, just don't look at their website, they're having all sorts of problems with things. They get 'light' right yet can't be bothered to correctly name the fermented milk they peddle.<br />
<br />
'Yoghurt' trickled into the English language via the Turkish verb for coagulating according to the all knowing Wiki. You'd think we'd have picked a sexier word for it but then we are talking about milk with too much bacteria. Surely, with our preoccupation for their naturally sour variety we'd dig out a sexy Greek word. Alas, no, so with a trick of translation and awkward pronounciation those chaps in Oxford had 'yoghurt' to play with.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/ygO6IeJResw?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
Is it the French or the American's fault, or is it just laziness like the lack of thought that goes into your and you're and the systematic abuse of there, their and they're? I'm plumping for the quest for global markets and one size fits all consumerism. What's one little aitch in the quest for market share in the Far East? So, indirectly it is the Americans fault and their invention of relentless consumerism. This is the United Kingdom where we cobbled together a language and a dictionary courtesy of French, Latin et al. How about a little pride in the Queen's English that we cling to in increasingly bizarre circumstances. <br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgISXd4nyT5qKYttg9pUo4kwiGY5yW0FHix5DTXlE6CbgB7qg-dSRkOEkmqG8JHR-V3kdd845Sko_0Q5y8tOewLPq624SvNc0ZiAoTOAPHSEcR7pkz9ea5p-s8P9P3Ut0Pvnce0PLhsK7wm/s1600/mandsyog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgISXd4nyT5qKYttg9pUo4kwiGY5yW0FHix5DTXlE6CbgB7qg-dSRkOEkmqG8JHR-V3kdd845Sko_0Q5y8tOewLPq624SvNc0ZiAoTOAPHSEcR7pkz9ea5p-s8P9P3Ut0Pvnce0PLhsK7wm/s1600/mandsyog.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Oh, it appears it has</b></td></tr>
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Herbs become 'erbs' yet time is always measured in hours and rhurbarb retains the largely useless extra letter. Is Newspeak creeping in unnoticed? I wonder if Marks and Spencer, so long the bastion of vertically integrated Englishness, have succumbed?<br />
<br />
As excellently, summised by Eddie Izzard in <i>Dress To Kill</i>, it's herbs, not 'erbs....why? because there's a fucking aitch in it. How do people cope with Hyundai and get along with 'through' without synaptic implosions over the second aitch, leave alone the strangely placed silent letter G.<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/Y6lJGD3Q9Qs?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe>My silent protest at the supermarkets' lack of aitch based consideration consists of not buying any yoghurts. I like yoghurts but I'm not one of those people who'll write a complaint letter to Tesco head office. Or am I? It's the casual acceptance that grants things all the time that is most offensive. We do like to moan and complain about things without actually <i>doing</i> anything. Just look at Twitter's reaction to the daily horrors on Facebook. Careful though, they'll call you a Grammar Nazi when you point out their flaws and 'fucking illiterate idiot' isn't always an acceptable response.<br />
<br />
Oh, and by the way way it's 'aitch' not fucking 'haitch'.<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04785089904094309692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1018840140459450891.post-46582742517929088662012-11-18T20:13:00.000+00:002012-11-18T21:33:56.454+00:00Under Neon Loneliness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<br />
Four years we've been waiting for <i>Skyfall</i> as MGM crumbled and continued before finally Bond's 50th gets a 23rd film as celebration. Unfortunately, it's not exactly Christmas. I wanted to love <i>Skyfall</i> and have been waiting an age for it's release. Between the restoration of old traditions and the long, lingering camera shots of watches and sunglasses there's something missing. Bond's tale of self discovery and resurrection is, at times, painfully slow, always threatening to explode but not quite letting off the fireworks. Having said that the reinvention of Craig's Bond is now complete and the series is aimed at the future whilst aiming maximum respect at it's past.<br />
<br />
<i>Skyfall</i> is a celebration of all that has gone before and nods it's head and homages in ways more subtle and nuanced than the fateful 40th anniversary abomination <i>Die Another Day</i>. From Craig's novel use of a Komodo Dragon to ape Moore through to the signature gun that would make Dalton jealous, <i>Skyfall</i> treads a familiar path within the Bond canon.<br />
<br />
<i>Skyfall</i> is a tale of revenge and salvation yet this time it isn't Bond out for revenge set largely against a backdrop of London which makes the capital look glorious in this Olympic year. Despite the obligatory globe hopping this is a very, very British Bond film.<br />
<br />
We begin in Turkey and Bond stumbles across the loss of a laptop hard drive. A hard drive full to popping with the list of secret agents undercover in terrorist cells. All very <i>Mission Impossible</i>. Accompanied by Eve, Bond is off on a slow burning car chase before ending up on a train. Yes, another incarnation is about to take a turn for the worse on a train. It seems that Bond will never learn.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgimzbkkKvtx0WVhE8pUAkx3F0WYEazKEmXJJBXCIu3ZCfShgzqQ97lIfwOwuBUsg4wPxBrbwZwRKI0BzdX_zO4kADH7cKGgr4QUYzchTN2cAMHwsoUr0sSn_xYkk6V-qNAKLF6IU3GxYMC/s1600/obit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgimzbkkKvtx0WVhE8pUAkx3F0WYEazKEmXJJBXCIu3ZCfShgzqQ97lIfwOwuBUsg4wPxBrbwZwRKI0BzdX_zO4kADH7cKGgr4QUYzchTN2cAMHwsoUr0sSn_xYkk6V-qNAKLF6IU3GxYMC/s1600/obit.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Dead again</b></td></tr>
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M's loyalty to the mission sees Eve put in an impossible position but she takes the shot and, not for the first time, an obituary is typed up for Commander James Bond. Bond's descent into the watery depths begins a credit sequence that is probably the best in the franchise's history. Adele's inevitable theme hovers above a hall of mirrors that would have made Scaramanga blush. <br />
<br />
Bond's death and the loss of the list of agents is soon lost under a pile of bureaucracy as we are introduced to Mallory: Ralph Fiennes' implausibly trousered Whitehall enforcer. <i>Skyfall</i> begins to open out, it's not going to be a run of the mill Bond film. This time it's an M film. In the face of enforced retirement M watches as her world is blown up around her. Again Millbank is exploded and you wonder if the Tate avoided the shrapnel. Thankfully, <i>The Clampers</i> are absent this time. M and MI6 are being personally targeted by a cyber terrorist who obviously watched <i>Jurassic Park</i>.<br />
<br />
The dust settling by the Thames is reported by CNN to a fully alive James Bond who has been contemplating life and apparent betrayal whilst playing stinging drinking games by the beach. In desperate need of a shave Bond bombs back to Blighty and makes himself comfortable in George Smiley's front room (now resident to M.) Bond's resurrection is hampered by standard procedure which has set about erasing him from history. All seemingly very easy to do to an orphan with no next of kin. Will the tearful restauranteurs and underemployed tailors of Bean's <i>Goldeneye</i> tirade really be all that's left?<br />
<br />
M puts Bond back to work, but first he has to prove himself and we see the gruelling rebuilding of the secret agent in the gym. Something that was painfully missing from Bruce Wayne's resurrection in <i>The Dark Knight Rises</i>. Bond is put back on field duty and dispatched to Shanghai to find his old train companion. Before he goes he has an appointment with The Doctor, sorry, the new Q. I miss Desmond now more than ever.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRFgQgnEaHWqBiVKEzrSPaKu7S0IkXDPPshjR_2gkyRHbuZPqDM8-GxA2FeVT9uJ2FiPI5Pdwv5b4wdrgoGqIsaX2E6dQVtMYv6_hIgCdkYYajfd6oyCJDBFQOs0VCsqNr4Fx7P1jMX_lA/s1600/shang.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRFgQgnEaHWqBiVKEzrSPaKu7S0IkXDPPshjR_2gkyRHbuZPqDM8-GxA2FeVT9uJ2FiPI5Pdwv5b4wdrgoGqIsaX2E6dQVtMYv6_hIgCdkYYajfd6oyCJDBFQOs0VCsqNr4Fx7P1jMX_lA/s1600/shang.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Hunting Replicants and a massive jellyfish</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
This is where we see Bond for what he really is. He's not a spy, he's a government hard man getting his hands dirty so politicians don't have to. This is best seen in the airport as Bond's crap disguise leads him to follow his target up a skyscraper. Shanghai has been ripped from the celluloid of <i>Bladerunner</i> as Bond stalks the shadows and reflections of an assassination. The constant neon jellyfish haunting a fight in a glassy prison. It's surprising Coca Cola didn't insist on their own little chunk of product placement. <br />
<br />
The assassin's cryptic payment is a casino chip and we're off to Macao. <i>Skyfall</i> has been drawn off a palette saturated with colour and
the neon noir of Shangai juxtaposes with the seedy vibrancy of Macao
almost perfectly. No Lazar this time but a very seductive Severine. She looks like a villain but you know deep down that she can't be as she's not ginger even if she does have very, <i>very</i>, pointy nails.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Ts4bI0uohJRIiAIP66xtcOWAxRkMX4pxgoHbJvZANLY94-eJl1Z8FHglU-afFdYExzvaVwxcOkxrIpi5y6_lVbLLcIg221x5ZkCzYp2e3m4SGmV2x3A_dU4InbjNqGgzcyWY5azKBEAX/s1600/jb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Ts4bI0uohJRIiAIP66xtcOWAxRkMX4pxgoHbJvZANLY94-eJl1Z8FHglU-afFdYExzvaVwxcOkxrIpi5y6_lVbLLcIg221x5ZkCzYp2e3m4SGmV2x3A_dU4InbjNqGgzcyWY5azKBEAX/s1600/jb.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Camp blonde hair and an awesome island shirt</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Through Severine we finally meet our villain. It's been a slow slow-burner so far but now things are looking up. The villain has his own island! Hurrah! The spirit of Blofeld rejoice! Not as impressive as a hollowed out volcano but still, it's a fucking island.<br />
<br />
Out-camping the combined efforts of Mr Wind and Mr Kidd Javier Bardem's Silva or Rodriguez arrives via a lift to get all touchy feely with 007. Silva has the hump with M for seemingly selling him out for being too good at his job. It's a little hard to swallow such an Hispanic former MI6 agent after the diet of Dalton's Gibraltar, Brosnan and Bean et al. Silva is captured and taken back to London and it's all a bit too easy. Enshrined like Heath Ledger playing Hannibal Lecter, Silva finally reveals what M did to him and the perils of a cyanide capsule. I don't know if cyanide has a best before date but judging by Silva's dental work and Blofeld-esque droop I think it might have.<br />
<br />
The film has been building now for a while and we're beginning to feel like we're ready for an explosive finale. In fact, we're beginning to need one. Will Silva escape and Bond pursue him to a tropical demise? No, Q's uber geekiness pops the plastic chamber and Bond lays a trap in Scotland after a suspiciously tame rush hour on the District Line and Silva's grasping assassination attempt in Westminster.<br />
<br />
Scotland.<br />
<br />
Scotland. Forgive me for being underwhelmed but I've been brought up on mushroom shaped islands in the Far East and buried satellite dishes in Cuba. Instead we're about to get a back story for Bond and a very sad ending. At least the DB5 is back, the ejector seat still intact. Up on the moors is a lonely old house. A house called Skyfall. Bond's ancestral home and lurking in the shadows (inexplicably) is Albert Finney with a shotgun. Silva is being lured to Skyfall and Bond sets about drawing on his memories of seeing <i>Home Alone</i> to even up the playing field.<br />
<br />
Our creaking finale is punctuated by dancing on ice and nail bombs before an attempt at salvation. Mortally wounded and abandoned M is cradled by Silva who has gone full blown Joker and wants them both to die at an attempt at 'freedom.' A death last reserved for Rosamund Pike paves the way for a tragic goodbye to Judi Dench.<br />
<br />
Cradling M in his arms, Bond cries as he says goodbye to his replacement mother. The affection he shows for his boss is on a par with Bond's (deliberately tearless) goodbye to Tracy and you feel that maybe he is now irretrievably broken. All goes dark before we see Bond gazing out over the London skyline, isolated against the landmarks of the country he defends. Bond is joined by Eve before the most obvious twist in a long time. The running joke that Eve may be more suited to a desk job is cemented as she is formally introduced. Perched behind her Sony Vaio it's difficult to see Moneypenny hot desking. Instead she is the guardian of the man behind those leather cushioned doors. Having proven himself to Bond earlier as more than just another bureaucrat Mallory assumes the initial and tosses a dossier towards Bond. Top secret and for 007, now that he's shaken off his case of Brosnan's Shoulder, a new mission.<br />
<br />
The reboot is complete and all the true Bondian elements have been restored. So now, perhaps, we shake off the shackles of Jason Bourne and have a little fun? <br />
<br />
James Bond will return and I think I want Quantum to return too.<br />
<br />
Hopefully this time the gun barrel will be AT THE BEGINNING. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04785089904094309692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1018840140459450891.post-66111464531165447992012-11-06T20:38:00.001+00:002012-11-06T20:38:46.399+00:00I remember when Kinder Eggs were great<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It was an impulse buy, they were by the till and I was overcome with pleasant childhood memories. The Kinder Egg made it's way into my hand and with a bleep and an exchange of hard currency became mine. An ovoid of plastic textured chocolate wrapped in bright tin foil but with the promise of a surprise. A cheeky little toy hidden inside. Would it be a little alien? Or a miniature car with cogs and gears for me to assemble?<br />
<br />
No. It was a jigsaw puzzle. A fucking jigsaw puzzle. Twenty pieces of printed cardboard crammed into a plastic shell before being inserted into the familiar orange and white wrapping.<br />
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I've been cheated. A jigsaw puzzle for Waybaloo watchers. I yearned for a minature gladiator that would get dwarfed by a Lego minifig. Yeah it'd be shit and would get lost or destroyed within a week but that's not the point. The jigsaw robbed me of opportunity to build a little car that would go round in circles for a few seconds. The jigsaw went straight in the recycling bin. Germanic Italian bastards.<br />
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So what did I do the next day?<br />
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Yeah, I bought another one. Well, another two. Expectations were high again and this time repaid tenfold!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>No need for IKEA instructions with this one</b></td></tr>
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I got a little cat with it's own parachute AND a remedial spirograph. Yeah, a cat which is attached to a vinylette parachute. It doesn't float that well and serves no real purpose but it's there, it's fun and the cheeky little critter can nestle softly on a spirographed helipad. It'll keep me amused for a few minutes.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04785089904094309692noreply@blogger.com0