The Fixer

Oh, how filmmakers must lament the advancements in make-up and special effects.  No doubt, David Cronenburg watches The Fly and winces at what might have been had CGI been more affective at the time.  Still, unless you are George Lucas and decide to revisit them with the CGI crew, you have to be happy that you made do with what was available at the time.

Oh, how filmmakers must lament the advancements in digitalfilm making.  OK, you get the gist.  Film stocks vary, as do prints and they also have varying shelf lives according to storage and care.  So, a straight to DVD Michael Dudikoff movie will effectively look as good (or bad) in 40 years, as it does now.  Whereas, something like The Fixer, unless the prints are available for remastering, will not have stood the test of time.

The Fixer, an epic story of a Jewish worker (Alan Bates) held captive in a hostile Russian prison for a crime he is innocent of, needs to be viewed through a squint for reasons alluded to above.

Perhaps, TCM has acquired a poor print of the film in a similar way to how Movies 4 Men shows a particularly poor quality version of Fort Apache, when a perfectly good version can be bought on DVD or is shown on other networks.  But, the film quality noticeably changes throughout, from mediocre to poor and back.  At one point a thick line streaked down the right half of the screen. 

As for the effects, well, what I’m really talking about is the make up job on Alan Bates.  I’m sure the best available make-up effects were applied at the time, but they look very dated and the continuity doesn’t help.  Again, I’m really talking about the varying lengths of Alan Bates’s hair.  The film is a bit of a halfway house, as it seems to care about authenticity, yet the makers have made a conscious decision not to get bogged down in forcing actors to pursue authentic Russian accents.

This sort of stuff is superficial really and perhaps we are spoilt these days by having remastered films and high definition available to us so readily.  So rather than literally view through a squint, metaphorically view through a squint to block out or blur the obvious distractions.

At the heart of this film is the story, based upon the novel by Bernard Malamud, set in Russia against the backdrop of the Czars persecution of the Jews.

Yakov Bog is masterfully played by Alan Bates.  He was nominated for an Oscar and it’s easy to see why (incidentally, he lost out to Cliff Robertson).  He carries us on a journey through his initial innocence, his self doubt and self analysis, through to his employment as a non-Jew, where he is wracked with guilt and worries about losing his identity.  Subsequently, following his incarceration, he continues on a journey of self discovery; his failed marriage, his faith, his desire to live.  All the while enduring brutal treatment from the judicial hierarchy.  Throughout this experience, which incidentally transcends the prison walls and sweeps the nation and causes international uproar, his one underlying rule or ethic is one of idealism.  Why shouldn’t he work in the non-Jewish section?  A man’s got to work.  Why shouldn’t he perhaps indulge in a liaison with his employer’s daughter?  A man has desires.   And why should he confess to a crime he did not do to get out of punishment?  A man is innocent until proven guilty.  Even, when, after many years of incarceration and abuse, he is pardoned, he stands upright and says that he cannot be pardoned, as he has not been found guilty, so he will have his day in court.

I’m no philosopher, but this philosophy seems to be one of common sense and it often seems to be the first thing to go when people are in a crisis (in this case the Russian Czar even says that without focusing hatred on the Jews, the focus might shift to the Czar).  But, the shining light for Yakov and the whole Jewish population is that this philosophy is known to everyone to be the best, which is why the authorities became so desperate to break him.  Even one of his guards, sees enough of this to save his life when faced with a homicidal officer.

So when you look beyond the “not so” special effects and the poor quality viewing experience, which can be done with any film, the basic element remains of whether a story is worth telling and whether it is told well.

Il y a longtemps que je t’aime (I’ve loved your for so long)

I don’t know about you, but I think it’s pretty rare to see a film that treats its audience as though they are intelligent people.  Filmmakers who believe we are capable of working out plot nuances and subtle character traits without resorting to explicit explanation either by dialogue or action, therefore, must also be rare.  Therefore, this is a rare film.

I wouldn’t say it is exquisitely filmed, as I found the overall look of the film to be stark and grey.  However, this did serve to subtly highlight a look, a twitch a roll of the eyes that added much weight to the characters involved.  And that in itself was exquisite.

Kristin Scott Thomas plays a woman who, having been released from prison, moves in with her sister.  The film follows her reintegration into “normal” society and the impact she has on those around her.

Now then, Kristin Scott Thomas is British and this is a French film and she plays a French woman.  I had no idea whether Kristin’s accent was authentic or not, as everyone sounded French to me (please excuse my ignorance of varying French accents).  I guess it is noticeable to some, though, as quite early in the film, her character is described as having spent quite a lot of time in England.

Her character moves in with her sister’s family, where she is embraced as the “cool aunt” by the children and with love, affection and normality from her sister and brother-in-law (although furtive glances between them suggest an undercurrent of concern).  She also encounters along the way her parole officer, work colleagues and suitors and touches each of their lives in some way.  Rather than directly influencing them, it’s almost as if her presence affects a self-reflection of all the other characters.

Each character’s interaction with her is underpinned by whether they know or not why she was in prison.  For the most part, when they do know, there is an overreaction to appear, as though it has no bearing on their relationship, although clearly it does.  It so often appears as the white elephant in the room, as people around her exchange glances and gestures as to how to act.  And it is her, the one who is the centre of it all, who is the calming influence.  She is, as best she can be, at peace with what she has done and it is as if it is the others who are embarking on the journey of acceptance of the crime.

In the audience, I joined them on the journey.  The crime committed is revealed slowly enough to allow the audience to figure things out for themselves and in a reflection of the other characters around her; we reassess the relationships in her life based upon this overriding factor.

To call this film a cerebral experience rather than a visual one would perhaps elevate it to a level where it might put people of going.  But the way I see it is this, whodunits and M. Night Shyamalan films have the same creeping awareness of the audience, it’s just that they throw in murder, action and huge plot twists to engage the audience and surprise them.  This film does not carry those moments of impact, but it engages your brain in the same way.

Stevie Wonder – NIA Birmingham

The howling wind and rain surrounding the National Indoor Arena in Birmingham belied the warm glow felt within it’s walls for the “[Stevie] Wonder Summer Night’s Tour”.  To suggest that early October is a Summer night is pushing it a bit, even for the most eccentric promoter, but the feeling inside the arena was not one of being glad to be out of the rain or any thoughts of weather or the poor excuse for British summer.  This night it was all about the music and, I’m sure, for most of the audience, the chance to see a living legend.

“Legend” is banded about and tagged on to numerous people these days, from mediocre pop stars and footballers to TV presenters famed for being particularly useless and many more talentless no-marks beyond.  But do not allow the “Legend” moniker to be devalued by such people when you think of Stevie Wonder.

I’m not going to tell you how many great songs Stevie Wonder has written and performed from his “Little” Stevie Wonder days onwards.  If you want to see his discography to remind you of the hits and the albums, then try his own website or wikipedia.  But I will remind you that Stevie Wonder was 58 on his last birthday (he was signed to Motown at 11).  Which, when thinking of his musical output and influence, is nothing short of astonishing.

But back to the gig:  Unsurprisingly, he was led onto the stage to a raptuous reception and it can be fair to say that he had nothing to prove to the audience nor would it have taken much effort to make people’s nights.  He could have performed a cut down version of his greatest hits and left after an hour and we all would have gone home happy.  Instead, we were treated to almost two and a half hours of glorious music.  Yes, he did many of his hits (even if he had stayed on stage till the early hours, he could not have run through them all).  He opted to play segments of some of them in a bid to squeeze as many in as he could and it also had the desired affect of the audience cheering and applauding with delight when their favourite tracks were played.

What was surprising to me was the amount of music the veered away from the big hits.  The backing band were happy to go along with any musical direction that Stevie led them in, spanning a broad range of musical styles and also a quite magnificent jam where each band member was introduced and had their moment to shine.  For me, the energy and enthusiasm of the band really shone through in that period, as when each band member took up their solo, the others turned towards them to watch, admire and applaud.

Stevie was particularly vocal about getting some crowd participation going and he seemed to revel in hearing the audience singing their hearts out for him.  It was enough for him to do it without making the more cynical amongst us beginning to think that we were doing his job for him.  He also used his opportunity to put his full support behind Borack Obama’s bid to become president – even to the point of getting a crowd of people in Birmingham, England to sing Obama’s name.  If Stevie can exhort that sort of influence over here, I imagine Obama must be a shoe-in back in the States.  He also gave us some homespun advice about the world being one group of people and that all of the boundaries of race, religion, countries, etc shouldn’t detract from the fact that we are all people and that we really should think about that more often.  Wise words, I thought.

So, after he played constantly good music for the best part of two and a half hours, he left the stage to a standing ovation, as he now leaves the UK to head to Australia.  And we returned to a cold, wet and windy night a little bit warmer inside and happy that for years to come we will be able to tell people that we saw Stevie Wonder in concert and that he was great…a legend

Back to life, back to reality

Well, it’s been a while!  I’ve nearly had as much time off from the blog as I had in the USA.

There have been a few reasons for this.  Probably the biggest one is that it’s very difficult to write a travel blog when you’re not actually travelling anywhere.  So, I’ve had a rethink.

Now, I will be writing about anything that I want to, but to put it into some context, I am setting myself up as a freelance writer, writing scripts and reviewing anything that I watch.

The business “Profound Media Ltd” is very much in it’s infancy, but progress is being made and I expect to be contacting various editors with pitches for articles in the near future.  I do not expect to be making a living out of this venture for quite some time.

This week, I am starting a script writing course at the Broadway cinema in Nottingham.  This will give me new impetus with my various working drafts that I keep dipping in and out of.  The main aim is to make a short film next year.

As for reviews, I recently went to see Stevie Wonder, so that review is arriving on these pages shortly and I’m also going to write reviews of anything else that I watch and have the inclination to write about.  Expect plenty of TCM movie reviews for a start.

Back to reality:  I’m starting a new job in a week.  It’s an interesting oppportunity and will add some much needed structure to my day, as well as some much needed money and some much needed mental stimulus that will carry over into my outside work interests.

So, exciting times ahead…I hope!

The Jolly F-

The Jolly F********?

“The Jolly F”, the flowers read across the flowerbeds around the park in Skegness.  The rest of the phrase had been removed.  I wondered, or rather hoped, that the flowers had revolted and somehow managed to change the intentioned “Fisherman” to something much more colourful.

Yes, I was at Skegness on a lovely British Summer’s day!  From the US to Skegness in one week!  And it truly was a lovely British Summer’s day.  So often, the phrase is used to mean “chucking it down”, but it was gloriously sunny weather.

It was a spontaneous invitation from friends that took me to Skegness.  I didn’t need asking twice, as my craving for fish and chips was starting to get out of hand and the thought of fish and chips by the sea was too good to miss.

We took an interesting route to the coast which seemed to bother the others, however I was content to see some British scenery for a change, and we got there about lunch time.  So we headed straight for the fish and chips.  I’d built it up in my mind, so I was expecting to be disappointed…I wasn’t.

OK, they weren’t the greatest I’ve ever had, but as I ate them out in the sun, they dealt me what I was really craving for – an English experience.  And what can be more quintessentially English than fish and chips by the seaside?

And what about Skegness?  Well, what about it?  It has changed a bit, but you can still see everything it has to offer in a few hours.  The seal sanctuary, come butterfly house, come crocodile house, come petting zoo was pretty good.  Obviously, they had to keep adding to the seal sanctuary to entice visitors, but at least you knew your money was going to the right place – although, I have to mention that the solitary crocodile didn’t look very well suited to it’s small indoor enclosure.  The seal keeper (if that’s the right word) also needs to work on her delivery when mic’ed up to tell us about them as she feeds them.  I couldn’t work out if she was genuinely bored or that was just the way she always talked.

We couldn’t believe the weather, so a gentle promenade down the beach, ice-creams melting in hand, was lovely.  I thought it might just be me, what with me being freshly back in the country, but everyone else seemed to be enjoying the sand, sea and sunshine.

So, we’d done fish and chips, ice-cream, beach (complete with very healthy looking donkeys, in stark contrast to the state of them when we were young enough to ride them) and seal sanctuary – which meant all we had left to do was wandering round the shops (still selling the usual tat), go to the amusements (who still wants to win 2p coins?  I was hoping I’d lose because I didn’t want a pocket full of them) and also buy rock/candyfloss/dinky doughnuts (delete as appropriate).

I personally don’t see Skegness as a potential holiday destination, but I can see how some people may wish to stay there to use it as a base for exploring the east coast.  Also, it did get me thinking back to caravan holidays and how much time we spent together as a family, especially if the weather was bad – many good times with board games and the like.  Perhaps the adventurer in me, or the snob (I’m setting myself up for “snob in me” jokes) makes me want to seek out more exotic destinations and it’s true I enjoy seeing far flung places, but it costs.  Maybe the Skegness crowd have got it sussed in the sense of it’s not where you are, but who you’re with?

Whatever makes you a Jolly F******!

This is NOT the end, beautiful friends

So, my trip to the four corners of mainland USA is over, but that does not signal the end.

I’m still in the midst of readjusting to being back in the UK and working my way through getting in touch with my friends (apologies, if I haven’t got to you yet).  But, in the quiet moments, I reminisce about my time in America and I will post some thoughts and experiences in summary to draw the trip to an end on this blog.  I also have some video footage that I will edit produce a decent montage of my various experiences.

But, that is not all.  As one door closes, another one opens.  The USA road trip chapter is set to close, but the story continues.  I have many plans to put into practise and I will post progress on this blog: mainly, my attempts to become a professional writer and the completion of several scripts I have on the go.  I even thought further ahead than that and I will post scripts on the blog for people to read and offer feedback.  I also intend to film a short script, so the production diary will also be available.  And, if that’s not enough, I particularly enjoyed writing reviews while I was away.  If you think about it, most of my blog was reviews, whether it was a play, a show, a movie or a national park, a town, a journey, etc.

*Spotted* Season Finale

Whilst waiting at LAX for the check in desk of New Zealand Airways to open, a familiar face walked in and joined the queue.  It was none other than Darren Huckerby!

I’ve been a Norwich City fan for about 20 years, so I was quite gob smacked to see him.  There were rumours that he would move to the MLS after being released by Norwich at the end of the season with Toronto thought to be his destination.

I was only “quite gob smacked”, so I went over to speak to him.  I introduced myself and told him I was a Norwich fan.  H told me of his imminent move to the MLS and the San Jose Earthquakes (I can mention it now the story is out officially!) and general chit-chat about Norwich, the MLS and the fact that I would have to get a new shirt (I was wearing an LA Galaxy Beckham t-shirt).

As much as I enjoyed meeting him, I thought I’d give both of us some space.  There was a lot of time between then and landing at Heathrow.  I bid him farewell and all the best for the future.

I suppose it’s no great coincidence that I then bumped into him at the baggage reclaim area and he asked me if I’d had a good flight.  We, again, went our separate ways to wait for our bags and his came through before mine.  However, when most people would get the bags and go, he came over to me and shook my hand, wishing me all the best before he left.

Without wanting to sound like Tim Nice But Dim, “What a bloody nice chap!”

I thought it was a fitting end to the *Spotted* section, but spotted wasn’t over!  In a not so spectacular *Spotted*, I saw John Sargent (BBC political fella and reporter on the One Show) at Kings Cross.

I heart Huckerby?!

Homeward Bound

I returned the impostor to the car hire place – a measly 500 or so miles in that one.  Unfortunately, I left my TCB key ring with it too!

I stayed at the Marriott hotel at LAX.  They had some sort of big Jesus convention on or something, so it was full of priests and followers.

I found it amusing that, when the elevator came, a priest was in there and I asked him if he was going down.  He replied “No, up” and I thought to myself “of course”.  OK, you had to be there…or not.

The flight the following day passed without incident, except for a very special *Spotted* that I will post shortly.

Dean picked me up from Heathrow and the journey to his flat passed without incident, unless going the wrong way for an hour counts.

Of course, the whole point to my journey at this time was to get back to my parents’ in time to surprise my mum on her birthday.  I made it to Newark station at 2pm on the day and my mum arrived with my dad, under the impression they were there to pick up train timetables only to find me waiting.

Next up: the ultimate *Spotted*

4th July

With a thumping headache, I awoke to a day of celebration in America.  Independence day, we’ve all heard of it and from what I’d heard I expected a day full of fireworks and celebration.

Fireworks…just what I need with a hangover!

There was a huge celebration taking place at the Rose Bowl, but I had decided that, in my delicate condition, I was going to stay local.  I expected it to be a big deal.  America has a short but eventful history and I would imagine Independence Day to be their most treasured national holiday.  I also thought that I may be able to blag my way into becoming guest of honour…after all, without the English, America wouldn’t have had a revolution to celebrate!

I went into Westwood Village around 8pm.  It’s about a 10 minute walk.  It was an uneventful 10 minutes.  No fireworks, no dancing in the streets, no sign of celebration, but it was early.

I went to a bar and watched the celebrations at the Rose Bowl on the local news.  That was the nearest I got to 4th July celebrations.

A couple of nice girls at the bar started talking to me and I joined them for the evening.  Amongst a whole range of topics that were covered, they suggested that 4th July was not such a big deal other than a day off work and an excuse to start drinking in the afternoon.

That reminded me of every Bank Holiday back in England…the only thing missing was the rain!

Wild Child at The Whisky-A-Go-Go

The Doors made their name at the Whisky on Sunset Blvd, so it was fitting that a Doors tribute band, Wild Child, were performing while I was staying in LA.  If the blog title doesn’t give it away, I’m a huge Doors fan, so this was as near as I am ever going to get to seeing the Doors…apart from the gig me and Gaz went to last year, where we saw Ray Manzarek and Robbie Krieger with their band.

Is there such a thing as cool hobo bohemian chic?  It’s what I thought when I stepped out og the cab on Sunset, funnily enough, at sunset.  There are a few bars, shops and restaurants and it was either the light or the free wine I enjoyed at the hotel that made me really like the place. 

The Whisky looks a little run down and that suits it perfectly.  There were already a few people waiting outside, so I wandered up the street to get a beer and maybe something to eat.

After a couple of beers and a huge bowl of pasta, I went back to join the queue of people filing in.  There, I met Susan.  She was in front of me in the queue and started talking to me.  So, I had a friend for the gig, which was nice.  Even though I have been travelling on my own for 3 months, it’s still nice to have some company when I’m out and about.  I later lost her in the crowd (it got really busy), but she helped pass the time until the band came on, as did other people around me who were all keen to talk Doors which was great.

I proudly declared my Ray Manzerek/Robbie Krieger gig attendance, only to be out done by a girl who saw not only them, but also John Densmore when they toured with Ian Astbury, as the 21st Century Doors.

When the band finally came on, the place was packed and the performance was eagerly anticipated.  It did not disappoint!

You had to squint pretty hard to convince yourself they looked like the Doors.  It actually seemed like only he lead singer was really putting in the effort to look like Jim Morrison.  He had the leather pants, the boots, the shirt and the necklace, even the hairstyle.  He also seemed to mimic Morrison’s stage poses and actions.  But, despite his efforts, he didn’t really look like him.  Which isn’t the point anyway is it?

They sounded like the Doors and they steamed through a set that covered all of the hits and all of the fans favourites.  I think they did over 25 songs (the jack and coke has blurred my memory).  They were definitely on top of their game as musicians (the drummer was outstanding) and the singer, although not as rich in baritone as Morrison, hit the right notes and he seems to have perfected hi Morrison scream.  The crowd loved it.  I loved it.  It was great to see such a mixed crowd of Doors fans bouncing around and singing along in unbridled joy.

With the gig over and the crowd leaving, I decided to go into another bar where another band were just about to start.  Star Fucker – a band made up of people who played in other bands – I believe one of them was in Guns ‘n’ Roses.  They were crap.  I decided to call it a night and head home after considering a trip to the Viper Rooms, but deciding against it.  Technically, I did still see where River Phoenix died, as the cab went past the club and Phoenix did die on the pavement outside, I think.

And so it was with a bit of a headache I awoke on the 4th of July…