I'm such an Apple bitch lol.
I have a 16gb iPhone 5s, a 128gb iPod touch, a 120gb iPod classic and an 8gb iPad Nano.
I gave my son my new windows laptop when I upgraded to the 15" MacBook Pro 256gb.
I find their products so user friendly...they have it all sewn up man.
I currently use a 64gb iPad Air everyday, and with over 700,000 apps for it, it's amazing. It's no surprise Apple have sold over 225,000,000.
My son Connor is a whiz on the iPad, so i have bought him an iPad mini for his Christmas, and I chose a 64gb one for him as he is forever downloading games on mine and now he can download loads of games on his own. I also got him his own iPod touch...it's so great to see his collection of music....he has great taste!!!!
So this takes me to Apple's 16th October announcement of the new iPad Air 2.....yep you guessed it I had to order one. I went for the largest 128gb this time, in white for a change with the gold back. Ordered direct from Apple and should have by Wednesday.
No I'm not getting paid from Apple for this. Yeah the products are expensive, but are trouble free and there is always a premium to be paid for this and the convenience of use. This is a company that does everything right....never cease to amaze me.
Sunday, 26 October 2014
Wednesday, 23 July 2014
Tuesday 22nd July - diet consumption
It's official....I cannot stand Avacado....yuck!!!!
So I'm sticking to this diet, so far it's easier than what I thought, but much more costly than I envisioned. So today I ate....
Breakfast:
2 x slices dry toasted gluten free bread (still tastes like tusks)
1 x cup of tea with almond milk
1 x 500ml bottle of water
Lunch:
4 x rice crackers
1 x bowl of strawberries, red raspberries
1 x 500ml bottle of water
Dinner:
1 x tin of tuna fish
1 x salad consisting of parsley, kale, Beetroot, lettuce, carrots, green peas, cabbage, cucumber, walnuts, honey peanue
1 x fruit salad consisting of black raspberries, red grapes, mango, melon, oranges, strawberries, kiwi, Avacado
2 x 500ml bottles of water
Snack:
1 x bowl of dried nuts & raisins, pumpkin seeds
Much more energy for exercise.
So I'm sticking to this diet, so far it's easier than what I thought, but much more costly than I envisioned. So today I ate....
Breakfast:
2 x slices dry toasted gluten free bread (still tastes like tusks)
1 x cup of tea with almond milk
1 x 500ml bottle of water
Lunch:
4 x rice crackers
1 x bowl of strawberries, red raspberries
1 x 500ml bottle of water
Dinner:
1 x tin of tuna fish
1 x salad consisting of parsley, kale, Beetroot, lettuce, carrots, green peas, cabbage, cucumber, walnuts, honey peanue
1 x fruit salad consisting of black raspberries, red grapes, mango, melon, oranges, strawberries, kiwi, Avacado
2 x 500ml bottles of water
Snack:
1 x bowl of dried nuts & raisins, pumpkin seeds
Much more energy for exercise.
Monday 21st July - diet consumption
Well I'm going for it to the letter, even though I badly crave McDonalds, I am never left hungry. So this what I ate today...all these foods feed your brain cells.
Breakfast:
2 x slices of dry toasted gluten free bread (tastes like a rusk)
1 x cup of tea with almond milk
1 x 500ml bottle of water
Lunch:
1 x tin tuna fish in oil
1 x salad consisting of carrots, red peppers, purple cabbage, kale
1 x fruit salad consisting of strawberries, red raspberries, mango
1 x 500ml bottle of water
Dinner:
1 x grass fed steak
1 x salad consisting of kale, celery, asparagus, tomatoe, garlic, peppers, spring onion
1 x fruit salad consisting of kiwis, strawberries, oranges, red raspberries, mango
2 x 500ml bottles of water
Daily routine of exercises, mainly concentrating on upper strength.
Breakfast:
2 x slices of dry toasted gluten free bread (tastes like a rusk)
1 x cup of tea with almond milk
1 x 500ml bottle of water
Lunch:
1 x tin tuna fish in oil
1 x salad consisting of carrots, red peppers, purple cabbage, kale
1 x fruit salad consisting of strawberries, red raspberries, mango
1 x 500ml bottle of water
Dinner:
1 x grass fed steak
1 x salad consisting of kale, celery, asparagus, tomatoe, garlic, peppers, spring onion
1 x fruit salad consisting of kiwis, strawberries, oranges, red raspberries, mango
2 x 500ml bottles of water
Daily routine of exercises, mainly concentrating on upper strength.
Monday, 21 July 2014
So they say diets are good for you.
So I was munching on a stick of celery on Saturday when it caused me to crack a tooth...it could only happen to me!!!
My diet.
So I'm wishing I started and stuck with Dr Wahls diet a long time ago. I'm noticing big improvements, it's amazing. I won't lie and say I'm loving it, but needs must right.
So my latest shopping list included:
Kale, Lettuce, Peppers, Beetroot, Cauliflower, Spring Onion, Asparagus, Brussels, Collard, Chard, Green Beans, Tomatoes, Radishes, Onions, Garlic, Parsley, Spinach, Cabbage, Cucumber, Sweet Potatoes.
Green & Red Grapes, Oranges, Peaches, Lemons, Raspberries Red & Black, Kiwi, Strawberries, Blueberries, Blackberries, Rhubarb.
Tuna, Salmon, Liver, Steak.
Gluten Free Bread, Almond Milk, Soy Milk, Pumpkin Seeds, Sunflower Seeds, Raisins, Honey
Peanuts.
So I eat 9 large stuffed cups of vegetables a day and 3 cups of fruit everyday, also wild fish and grass fed or organ meat. I have also dropped all gluten as well as dairy. If your going to do it, you gotta do it right.
But I would love a kebab lol
So my latest shopping list included:
Kale, Lettuce, Peppers, Beetroot, Cauliflower, Spring Onion, Asparagus, Brussels, Collard, Chard, Green Beans, Tomatoes, Radishes, Onions, Garlic, Parsley, Spinach, Cabbage, Cucumber, Sweet Potatoes.
Green & Red Grapes, Oranges, Peaches, Lemons, Raspberries Red & Black, Kiwi, Strawberries, Blueberries, Blackberries, Rhubarb.
Tuna, Salmon, Liver, Steak.
Gluten Free Bread, Almond Milk, Soy Milk, Pumpkin Seeds, Sunflower Seeds, Raisins, Honey
Peanuts.
So I eat 9 large stuffed cups of vegetables a day and 3 cups of fruit everyday, also wild fish and grass fed or organ meat. I have also dropped all gluten as well as dairy. If your going to do it, you gotta do it right.
But I would love a kebab lol
Tuesday, 15 July 2014
Amazed at my 7yo sons music knowledge
So I was updating Connors iPod whilst he asked for songs by name or by singing a bit lol, even asked for the entire greatest hits by The Eagles. He has in excess of 1400 songs on their but is very capable not to duplicate by memory. He also introduced me to a few songs that I hadn't heard before, one such example is a song by Ella Henderson - Ghost.
Monday, 14 July 2014
Bronson - Movie review
Michael Peterson tells us he was born into a normal middle-class family. He does not blame his childhood or anything else for the way he turned out, and neither does this film. It regards him as a natural history exhibit. No more would we blame him on his childhood than we would blame a venomous snake for its behavior. It is their nature to behave as they do.
At an early age, after seeing 'Death Wish' young Michael took the name of Charles Bronson. And as Bronson, he has become the U.K.'s most famous prisoner and without any doubt, its most violent. With a shaved head and a comic moustache , he likes to strip naked and grease himself before going into action.
His favourite pastime is taking a hostage and then engaging in a bloody battle with the guards who charge to the rescue, swinging clubs and beating him into submission. He has triggered this scenario many times, perhaps because he enjoys it so much. Originally sentenced to seven years ("You'll be out in three," his mother calls to him in the courtroom), he has now served 34 uninterrupted years, 30 of them in solitary confinement.
Why? We don't know. The movie doesn't know. If Bronson knows, he's not telling. The movie takes on a fearsome purity, refusing to find reasons, indifferent to motives, not even finding causes and effects. It is 92 minutes of rage, acted by Tom Hardy. This is a versatile actor. Hardy brings a raw physicality to the role, leaping naked about his cell, jumping from tables, hurtling himself into half a dozen guards, heedless of pain or harm. It must hurt him, because it makes us wince to watch. The word is animalistic.
They say one definition of insanity is when you repeat the same action expecting a different result. Bronson must therefore not be insane. He repeats the same actions expecting the same results. He goes out of his way to avoid different outcomes. During one stretch of comparative passivity, he's allowed to go to the prison art room and work with an instructor. He enjoys this, I think. He isn't a bad artist. When it appears he may be showing progress, what does he do? He takes the instructor hostage and is beaten senseless by guards.
"I showed magic in there!" he shouts after one brawl, bleeding in triumph. How's that? Magic, like in opening night? Does he expect a standing ovation? I believe most of us, no matter how self-destructive, expect some sort of reward for our behavior. It may not be some people's idea of a reward, but it's ours. Is Bronson then an extreme masochist, who only wants to be hurt? They say there are masochists like that, but surely there's a limit. What kind of passionate dementia does it require to want to be beaten bloody for 34 straight years?
I suppose, after all, Nicolas Winding Refn, the director and co-writer of "Bronson," was wise to leave out any sort of an explanation. Can you imagine how you'd cringe if the film ended in a flashback of little Mickey undergoing childhood trauma? There is some human behavior beyond our ability to comprehend. I was reading a theory the other day that a few people just happen to be pure evil. I'm afraid I believe it. They lack any conscience, any sense of pity or empathy for their victims. But Bronson is his own victim.
At an early age, after seeing 'Death Wish' young Michael took the name of Charles Bronson. And as Bronson, he has become the U.K.'s most famous prisoner and without any doubt, its most violent. With a shaved head and a comic moustache , he likes to strip naked and grease himself before going into action.
His favourite pastime is taking a hostage and then engaging in a bloody battle with the guards who charge to the rescue, swinging clubs and beating him into submission. He has triggered this scenario many times, perhaps because he enjoys it so much. Originally sentenced to seven years ("You'll be out in three," his mother calls to him in the courtroom), he has now served 34 uninterrupted years, 30 of them in solitary confinement.
Why? We don't know. The movie doesn't know. If Bronson knows, he's not telling. The movie takes on a fearsome purity, refusing to find reasons, indifferent to motives, not even finding causes and effects. It is 92 minutes of rage, acted by Tom Hardy. This is a versatile actor. Hardy brings a raw physicality to the role, leaping naked about his cell, jumping from tables, hurtling himself into half a dozen guards, heedless of pain or harm. It must hurt him, because it makes us wince to watch. The word is animalistic.
They say one definition of insanity is when you repeat the same action expecting a different result. Bronson must therefore not be insane. He repeats the same actions expecting the same results. He goes out of his way to avoid different outcomes. During one stretch of comparative passivity, he's allowed to go to the prison art room and work with an instructor. He enjoys this, I think. He isn't a bad artist. When it appears he may be showing progress, what does he do? He takes the instructor hostage and is beaten senseless by guards.
"I showed magic in there!" he shouts after one brawl, bleeding in triumph. How's that? Magic, like in opening night? Does he expect a standing ovation? I believe most of us, no matter how self-destructive, expect some sort of reward for our behavior. It may not be some people's idea of a reward, but it's ours. Is Bronson then an extreme masochist, who only wants to be hurt? They say there are masochists like that, but surely there's a limit. What kind of passionate dementia does it require to want to be beaten bloody for 34 straight years?
I suppose, after all, Nicolas Winding Refn, the director and co-writer of "Bronson," was wise to leave out any sort of an explanation. Can you imagine how you'd cringe if the film ended in a flashback of little Mickey undergoing childhood trauma? There is some human behavior beyond our ability to comprehend. I was reading a theory the other day that a few people just happen to be pure evil. I'm afraid I believe it. They lack any conscience, any sense of pity or empathy for their victims. But Bronson is his own victim.
Friday, 11 July 2014
Twitter questions with Dr Terry Wahls
I am following and being followed on Twitter by Dr Terry Wahls.
She was very helpful in answering my questions and gave me a number of hints & tips. Very nice and pleasant woman.
She was very helpful in answering my questions and gave me a number of hints & tips. Very nice and pleasant woman.
Oldboy - Movie Review
This American version of Park Chan-Wook's Korean thriller is Lee's most exciting movie since "Inside Man"—not a masterpiece by any stretch, but a lively commercial genre picture with a hypnotic, obsessive quality, and an utter indifference to being liked, much less approved of. The studio that released 'Oldboy' doesn't seem to like the movie any more than critics: it stifled pre-release and forced Lee to shorten an apparently much longer director's cut. So barring a miracle, this film is doomed.
Like Park's version, 'Oldboy' tells of a drunken, abusive lout named Joe Doucette (Josh Brolin) who's imprisoned for a long time (20 years!!) by a mysterious jailer. He gets clean in prison, then escapes to learn the identity of his tormentor and punish him. Like Park's version, its all violence and sex and fear and revenge and crying and screaming. The lighting is dark but the colors are supersaturated, especially in scenes with a lot of blood, neon, or wet pavement. The camera goes much lower or much higher than you expect it to, and peers at the characters from disorienting angles.
As Joe, the alcoholic ad executive, Brolin is a raw nerve at first, a bloated and haggard man whose smile and laugh are false. From certain angles he looks and sounds like the young Nick Nolte: a brutish alpha male gone to seed, but not without a certain tenderness. Drink is ruining his life and estranging him from his wife and newborn daughter. We sense that his alcoholism is a symptom of long-held guilt that will be explained as the tale unfolds, and we're more right than we could imagine. Joe finds himself trapped in a jail cell made up to look like a hotel suite, getting mysterious updates on the room's TV about the life of the daughter that he never got to know. He stays there for twenty years (five more than in Park's version). After seeming eons of self-pity capped by a suicide attempt, he starts a Travis Bickle-like regimen of Spartan self-improvement, down into a lean, mean killer, and finally to seek vengeance against his tormentor.
Where the film's first half is a fable of guilt and punishment, the second is a riff on the criminal revenge flick, with Joe working his way through the underbelly of a New York City that's been reimagined as a landscape of the mind. He joins up with a drug clinic worker played by Elizabeth Olsen and slowly begins piecing together the identity of his jailer: a rich and rather effective sadist who knew Joe a long time ago, and who now lives like a drug dealer from an '80s cop thriller.
Lee restages some famous (or infamous) moments from the original, including the hammer fight, as a more elaborately choreographed scene that unfolds over two levels of a warehouse populated by criminals and ruled by a glowering boss played by Samuel L. Jackson (seemingly channeling his character from 'Unbreakable'). In other cases, the film changes small details (including specific violent acts and lines of dialogue) or else jokingly acknowledges places where even it won't go (the scene in the original in which the hero devours a live octopus is thrown away by having Joe glance at one in a restaurant fishtank). It all leads to a climactic revelation identical to the one in Park's movie, though key details of the back story have been changed, and the denouement is more harsh and sad. If you haven't seen the original 'Oldboy' which provided the template for most of this one, I won't spoil it here. Suffice to say that Lee and his screenwriter Mark Protosevich do a good job of keeping their cards close to their chest, and when they finally play them, the result has a sick, powerful charge.
It's worth pointing out here that Park's film is not an original story, but an adaptation of a Japanese comic book of the same name. Both versions find ways to visually suggest that you're reading a big-screen graphic novel with pages that come to life. The compositions in Lee's movie have such a painterly or illustrated quality that they might as well have thick black lines marking off the edges of the frame. At no point does the film try to be realistic, except when it comes to the strong, simple emotions that its characters feel. Lee's 'Oldboy' like Park's, obeys its own illogical logic (a hotel room hallucination starring Lee's brother Cinque has the goofy randomness of a joke in a David Lynch movie). The whole thing flows as dreams flow, linking situations to other situations and images to other images.
Lee's direction reminded me of Brian DePalma or John Carpenter in nightmare mode, or Alfred Hitchcock when he seemed possessed by whatever horrible muses drove him. It's purely intuitive, at times musical, direction. The lack of a political dimension seems to have freed Lee to be looser and more (cruelly) playful than usual. There's news footage on Joe's hotel room TV, but when we see, for instance, scenes from 9/11 or the Iraq war, it's not meant to drive home anything but the passage of time and its effect on Joe's psyche. The performances are all over the map. Some actors give fairly naturalistic performances (Brolin and Olsen) while others (Jackson and Copley) chew the scenery into fine shreds and then pluck them from their shiny teeth. Lee presides over the madness with a droll serenity that says, "This is the movie; deal with it."
The big problem with Lee's 'Oldboy' is that for all its dark confidence, it doesn't reimagine the original boldly enough. This isn't like Martin Scorsese's 'Cape Fear'.
That's not a bad thing, though, when you consider the current climate for mainstream American films. For people who haven't seen the original 'Oldboy' or anything like it, this will be a rare studio release that feels shocking and abrasive and perverse and in some way new. I'd love to sit through Lee's movie again in a theater with newbies who came to see a straightforward revenge picture starring a guy who's been locked up for a long time and have no idea what they're actually in for. Few American auteurs are making mainstream studio movies in the vein of Spike Lee's 'Oldboy', hardcore genre pictures that aren't afraid to treat sex and violence as colours on a palette, and get nasty and raw, in that seventies-movie way. Park's 'Oldboy' was no skip through the daisy field, but this one is even harder to watch, sometimes indulging in savagery that blurs the line between Old Testament morality play and straight-up exploitation.The filmmakers seem obsessed with making everything as extreme as possible, replacing, for example, a bruising bit of hammer torture with a prolonged sequence in which the hero uses a knife to slice a dotted-line-shaped pattern into a former jailer's throat.
Park's film came out ten years ago, and things have only gotten more restrictive since then. Plenty of international filmmakers are working in this mode, but not too many English-language directors, aside from Quentin Tarantino and sometimes Oliver Stone, Martin Scorsese and David Cronenberg used to make this sort of picture all the time, but haven't in a while, perhaps because it's just too much for some people, and "just too much" movies tend not to get made at a major studio level because the financial stakes are too grave. I don't like or approve of everything in 'Oldboy' but I'm glad it exists. The cinemasare filled with 15 cert movies that should have been 18 cert movies, released by studios that don't make adults-only genre films anymore. This is one such film, starring a real actor, directed by a real director. It deserves to be seen and argued about.
Oldboy - Trailer
Like Park's version, 'Oldboy' tells of a drunken, abusive lout named Joe Doucette (Josh Brolin) who's imprisoned for a long time (20 years!!) by a mysterious jailer. He gets clean in prison, then escapes to learn the identity of his tormentor and punish him. Like Park's version, its all violence and sex and fear and revenge and crying and screaming. The lighting is dark but the colors are supersaturated, especially in scenes with a lot of blood, neon, or wet pavement. The camera goes much lower or much higher than you expect it to, and peers at the characters from disorienting angles.
As Joe, the alcoholic ad executive, Brolin is a raw nerve at first, a bloated and haggard man whose smile and laugh are false. From certain angles he looks and sounds like the young Nick Nolte: a brutish alpha male gone to seed, but not without a certain tenderness. Drink is ruining his life and estranging him from his wife and newborn daughter. We sense that his alcoholism is a symptom of long-held guilt that will be explained as the tale unfolds, and we're more right than we could imagine. Joe finds himself trapped in a jail cell made up to look like a hotel suite, getting mysterious updates on the room's TV about the life of the daughter that he never got to know. He stays there for twenty years (five more than in Park's version). After seeming eons of self-pity capped by a suicide attempt, he starts a Travis Bickle-like regimen of Spartan self-improvement, down into a lean, mean killer, and finally to seek vengeance against his tormentor.
Where the film's first half is a fable of guilt and punishment, the second is a riff on the criminal revenge flick, with Joe working his way through the underbelly of a New York City that's been reimagined as a landscape of the mind. He joins up with a drug clinic worker played by Elizabeth Olsen and slowly begins piecing together the identity of his jailer: a rich and rather effective sadist who knew Joe a long time ago, and who now lives like a drug dealer from an '80s cop thriller.
Lee restages some famous (or infamous) moments from the original, including the hammer fight, as a more elaborately choreographed scene that unfolds over two levels of a warehouse populated by criminals and ruled by a glowering boss played by Samuel L. Jackson (seemingly channeling his character from 'Unbreakable'). In other cases, the film changes small details (including specific violent acts and lines of dialogue) or else jokingly acknowledges places where even it won't go (the scene in the original in which the hero devours a live octopus is thrown away by having Joe glance at one in a restaurant fishtank). It all leads to a climactic revelation identical to the one in Park's movie, though key details of the back story have been changed, and the denouement is more harsh and sad. If you haven't seen the original 'Oldboy' which provided the template for most of this one, I won't spoil it here. Suffice to say that Lee and his screenwriter Mark Protosevich do a good job of keeping their cards close to their chest, and when they finally play them, the result has a sick, powerful charge.
It's worth pointing out here that Park's film is not an original story, but an adaptation of a Japanese comic book of the same name. Both versions find ways to visually suggest that you're reading a big-screen graphic novel with pages that come to life. The compositions in Lee's movie have such a painterly or illustrated quality that they might as well have thick black lines marking off the edges of the frame. At no point does the film try to be realistic, except when it comes to the strong, simple emotions that its characters feel. Lee's 'Oldboy' like Park's, obeys its own illogical logic (a hotel room hallucination starring Lee's brother Cinque has the goofy randomness of a joke in a David Lynch movie). The whole thing flows as dreams flow, linking situations to other situations and images to other images.
Lee's direction reminded me of Brian DePalma or John Carpenter in nightmare mode, or Alfred Hitchcock when he seemed possessed by whatever horrible muses drove him. It's purely intuitive, at times musical, direction. The lack of a political dimension seems to have freed Lee to be looser and more (cruelly) playful than usual. There's news footage on Joe's hotel room TV, but when we see, for instance, scenes from 9/11 or the Iraq war, it's not meant to drive home anything but the passage of time and its effect on Joe's psyche. The performances are all over the map. Some actors give fairly naturalistic performances (Brolin and Olsen) while others (Jackson and Copley) chew the scenery into fine shreds and then pluck them from their shiny teeth. Lee presides over the madness with a droll serenity that says, "This is the movie; deal with it."
The big problem with Lee's 'Oldboy' is that for all its dark confidence, it doesn't reimagine the original boldly enough. This isn't like Martin Scorsese's 'Cape Fear'.
That's not a bad thing, though, when you consider the current climate for mainstream American films. For people who haven't seen the original 'Oldboy' or anything like it, this will be a rare studio release that feels shocking and abrasive and perverse and in some way new. I'd love to sit through Lee's movie again in a theater with newbies who came to see a straightforward revenge picture starring a guy who's been locked up for a long time and have no idea what they're actually in for. Few American auteurs are making mainstream studio movies in the vein of Spike Lee's 'Oldboy', hardcore genre pictures that aren't afraid to treat sex and violence as colours on a palette, and get nasty and raw, in that seventies-movie way. Park's 'Oldboy' was no skip through the daisy field, but this one is even harder to watch, sometimes indulging in savagery that blurs the line between Old Testament morality play and straight-up exploitation.The filmmakers seem obsessed with making everything as extreme as possible, replacing, for example, a bruising bit of hammer torture with a prolonged sequence in which the hero uses a knife to slice a dotted-line-shaped pattern into a former jailer's throat.
Park's film came out ten years ago, and things have only gotten more restrictive since then. Plenty of international filmmakers are working in this mode, but not too many English-language directors, aside from Quentin Tarantino and sometimes Oliver Stone, Martin Scorsese and David Cronenberg used to make this sort of picture all the time, but haven't in a while, perhaps because it's just too much for some people, and "just too much" movies tend not to get made at a major studio level because the financial stakes are too grave. I don't like or approve of everything in 'Oldboy' but I'm glad it exists. The cinemasare filled with 15 cert movies that should have been 18 cert movies, released by studios that don't make adults-only genre films anymore. This is one such film, starring a real actor, directed by a real director. It deserves to be seen and argued about.
Oldboy - Trailer
Thursday, 10 July 2014
Let Me Blow Ya Mind: Eve ft Gwen Stefani - Song Meaning
One of the best things about this track is Gwen. It was Gwen's big 'comeback' after the low sales of no Doubt's 'Return to Saturn', people seen it as a failure due to the fact that it didn't sell as much as the previous record. I think the part Gwen sings is about her not caring what the haters say and doing what she wants. When she says "Now I got my foot through the door and I ain't going no where." She's saying that even though her record with No Doubt might have not done as well, she's not going anywhere. So for all the haters of Gwen out there, let me just say, no matter what you say you won't bring her down. She's been in music since her teens and she's staying in music! Suck on that!
Let Me Blow Ya Mind - Eve ft Gwen Stefani
Let Me Blow Ya Mind - Eve ft Gwen Stefani
Lana Del Ray: Summertime Sadness - Song Meaning
Total obsessional love, the Lana Del Rey all-in masochistic approach to relationships.
Her guy leaves her as the Summer begins. Since she's addicted to him like a drug, her Summer (which should be a good time of year) isn't. She sings "I think I'll miss you forever." She will never get over him. With him, she could die happy. Without him, she just wants to die. That's her summertime sadness.
Lana Del Ray - Summertime Sadness
Her guy leaves her as the Summer begins. Since she's addicted to him like a drug, her Summer (which should be a good time of year) isn't. She sings "I think I'll miss you forever." She will never get over him. With him, she could die happy. Without him, she just wants to die. That's her summertime sadness.
Lana Del Ray - Summertime Sadness
Messages re song meanings & movie reviews.
So I was really happy to find messages from people regarding my blog. It seems my movie reviews and song meanings are missed lol...this is crazy but thank you.
I am going to post a batch of song meanings now, I'm going to chill out with my iPod on shuffle playing loudly. I'm going to do a song meaning for each song that comes on...apologies now for the dodgy ones.
I am going to post a batch of song meanings now, I'm going to chill out with my iPod on shuffle playing loudly. I'm going to do a song meaning for each song that comes on...apologies now for the dodgy ones.
Wednesday, 9 July 2014
Feeling benefits of diet.
So it's been a few weeks now where I have followed Dr Wahls diet to the letter and I must admit to feeling the benefits almost straight away. Exercising has become easier, my mood has improved, everything has improved.
Everyone (not just MS sufferers) should search youtube for Dr Wahls videos, start eating better for your health!!!
Everyone (not just MS sufferers) should search youtube for Dr Wahls videos, start eating better for your health!!!
Sunday, 15 June 2014
Changing my blog again...
Right I have had it with typing about music and movies and because my illness is bring me down so much, it's time to get back to what is important. If you don have your health then you have truly nothing.
At 4am I typed a long email to my MS nurse begging for some help. As I am now known in the MS world as progressive, I get no medication for it, as everything medicine wise is considered hopeless at this stage.
This is my last through of the dice. I have armed myself with every book and piece of literature. I will stick to the diets 100%, will do everything in my power. I'm going down with a fight. Keep checking back to see how I'm doing.
I'm not only doing this for me but I owe it to my boy.
At 4am I typed a long email to my MS nurse begging for some help. As I am now known in the MS world as progressive, I get no medication for it, as everything medicine wise is considered hopeless at this stage.
This is my last through of the dice. I have armed myself with every book and piece of literature. I will stick to the diets 100%, will do everything in my power. I'm going down with a fight. Keep checking back to see how I'm doing.
I'm not only doing this for me but I owe it to my boy.
The All American Rejects: It Ends Tonight - Song Meaning
I really like this song, probably my favourite by The All American Rejects. Here's my take on it:
It's about being in a relationship where he realises they are both unhappy, and he is tired of playing games with her. He's tired of trying to fix the problem because it's unfixable, he just wasn't meant to be with her. He can't be happy with her, even if she does have some great qualities, and he realises he has to be miserable alone for a while in order to EVER be happy again.
"Your subtleties, they strangle me"
The little things about you, the games you play, they kill me.
"I can't explain myself at all
And all that wants and all that needs
I don't want to need at all"
I can't explain where we went wrong or exactly what is wrong with this relationship. I can however tell you that I'm tired of needing you or the things you give me, because in the end, you only make me miserable.
"The walls are breathing
My mind's unweaving
Maybe it's best you leave alone"
Things are getting intense, but you have to leave tonight. I am breaking up with you now, I need to be alone.
"A weight is lifted on this evening
I give the final blow"
I'm taking the weight of our relationship off our shoulders as I give the final blow aka break up with you, tell you it's over.
"When darkness turns to light
It ends tonight, it ends tonight"
Darnkess turning to light represents not only the night turning to day, but his life going from being dark (with her) to being light (happy again) when he's alone.
"A falling star, at least I fall alone"
It hurts to be alone, but it feels better to be alone than to be with her.
"I can't explain what you can't explain
You're finding things that you didn't know
I look at you with such disdain"
He doesn't know where they went wrong (as mentioned above). She's also finding things in him she doesn't like anymore, and when the two look at each other, they don't feel love, they feel disdain.
"Just a little insight won't make this right
It's too late to fight
It ends tonight, it ends tonight"
In relationships, usually someone will say "or we're fighting because I've been jealous lately/started my new job today/whatever", or they think one little solution will fix their problems. Here he says that nothing can fix their relationship. It's broken beyond repair. The only solution is to leave.
"Now I'm on my own side
It's better than bein' on your side"
Now he's single but it's better than being with her.
"It's my fault when you're blind
It's better that I see it through your eyes
All these thoughts locked inside
Now you're the first to know"
It's his fault for ignoring all the problems the relationship had. She maybe yelled at him and was a bitch, but it made him realize how much he didn't want to be with her. He's been keeping these feelings forever and now he's letting them out, and she's the first to hear about it.
Fathers Day
Well I got a whole half hour with my son today, on Father's Day. So it's safe to say I had a shit day filled with a whole host of emotions mainly stupidity, anger and hurt.
I am so proud of my beautiful baby boy, he is soon to be 8, very clever and talented. He excels at school, takes piano lessons and can read music. As well as being able to swim, he is also good at football.
I love you Connor McKay x
I am so proud of my beautiful baby boy, he is soon to be 8, very clever and talented. He excels at school, takes piano lessons and can read music. As well as being able to swim, he is also good at football.
I love you Connor McKay x
Coldplay: Magic - Song Meaning
It is about a couple who keep coming together and falling apart. The guy keeps swaying from breaking into two to being next to you (his Significant other). And he doesn't understand why this happens, why every time they fight, then why does he still want her only and then why they always get together again and then again fall apart. Hence, he calls this whole sequence of events as magic. With her magic she can make him or break him. It is like he doesn't exist at times. And the guy questions sometimes his love, sometimes he thinks maybe because they fight so much, maybe aren't meant for each other, and then when they do get together, he feels she is the one he wants. Hence, even though after all that he has been through, he loves her and believes such love can only be magical and hence he believes in magic.The way it means to me anyway.
Coldplay: Magic - Music Video
Coldplay: Magic - Music Video
My online horror group - All Things Horror
I created an online Facebook Group at the start of 2013 called 'All Things Horror' which quickly to over 25,000 members....if you like Horror Movies etc.. then please join at https://www.facebook.com/groups/allthingshorror1/389552691185420/?notif_t=like
I also created a website www.allthingshorror.org
I created an app too.
I also created a website www.allthingshorror.org
I created an app too.
Friday, 13 June 2014
Movie Review - Taxi Driver
"Are you talkin' to me? Well, I'm the only one here".Travis Bickle in 'Taxi Driver'
It is the last line, "Well, I'm the only one here," that never gets quoted. It is the truest line in the film. Travis Bickle exists in 'Taxi Driver' as a character with a desperate need to make some kind of contact somehow, to share or mimic the effortless social interaction he sees all around him, but does not participate in.
The film can be seen as a series of his failed attempts to connect, every one of them hopelessly wrong. He asks a girl out on a date, and takes her to a porno movie. He sucks up to a political candidate, and ends by alarming him. He tries to make small talk with a Secret Service agent. He wants to befriend a child prostitute, but scares her away. He is so lonely that when he asks, "Who you talkin' to?" he is addressing himself in a mirror.
This utter aloneness is at the centre of 'Taxi Driver', one of the best and most powerful of all films, and perhaps it is why so many people connect with it even though Travis Bickle would seem to be the most alienating of movie heroes. We have all felt as alone as Travis. Most of us are just better at dealing with it.
Martin Scorsese's 1976 film is a film that does not grow dated, or over-familiar. I have seen it dozens of times. Every time I see it, it works; I am drawn into Travis's underworld of alienation, loneliness, haplessness and anger.
In 'Taxi Driver', Travis Bickle is also a war veteran, horribly scarred in Vietnam. He encounters a 12-year-old prostitute named Iris (Jodie Foster), controlled by a pimp named Sport (Harvey Keitel). Sport wears an Indian headband. Travis determines to "rescue" Iris, and does so, in a bloodbath that is unsurpassed even in the films of Scorsese. A letter and clippings from the Steensmas, Iris' parents, thank him for saving their girl. But a crucial earlier scene between Iris and Sport suggests that she was content to be with him, and the reasons why she ran away from home are not explored.
The buried message is that an alienated man, unable to establish normal relationships, becomes a loner and wanderer, and assigns himself to rescue an innocent young girl from a life that offends his prejudices. In 'Taxi Driver', this central story is surrounded by many smaller ones, all building to the same theme. The story takes place during a political campaign, and Travis twice finds himself with the candidate, Palatine, in his cab. He goes through the motions of ingratiating flattery, but we, and Palatine, sense something wrong.
Shortly after that Travis tries to "free" one of Palatine's campaign workers, a blonde he has idealized (Cybill Shepherd), from the Palatine campaign. That goes wrong with the crazy idea of a date at a porno movie. And then, after the fearsome rehearsal in the mirror, he becomes a walking arsenal and goes to assassinate Palatine. The Palatine scenes are like dress rehearsals for the ending of the film. With both Betsy and Iris, he has a friendly conversation in a coffee shop, followed by an aborted "date", followed by attacks on the men he perceived as controlling them, he tries unsuccessfully to assassinate Palatine, and then goes gunning for Sport.
There are undercurrents in the film that you can sense without quite putting your finger on them. Travis's implied feelings about blacks, for example, which emerge in two long shots in a taxi driver's hangout, when he exchanges looks with a man who may be a drug dealer. His ambivalent feelings about sex (he lives in a world of pornography, but the sexual activity he observes in the city fills him with loathing). His hatred for the city, inhabited by "scum". His preference for working at night, and the way Scorsese's cinematographer, Michael Chapman, makes the yellow cab into a vessel by which Travis journeys the underworld, as steam escapes from vents in the streets, and the cab splashes through water from hydrants...great visuals.
The film has a certain stylistic resonance with 'Mean Streets' (1973), the first Scorsese film in which Keitel and De Niro worked together. In the earlier film Scorsese uses varying speeds of slow-motion to suggest a level of heightened observation on the part of his characters, and here that technique is developed even more dramatically, as the taxi drives through Manhattan's streets, we see it in ordinary time, but Travis's point-of-view shots are slowed down. He sees hookers and pimps on the sidewalks, and his heightened awareness is made acute through slow motion.
The technique of slow motion is familiar to audiences, who usually see it in romantic scenes, or scenes in which regret and melancholy are expressed or sometimes in scenes where a catastrophe looms, and cannot be avoided. But Scorsese was finding a personal use for it, a way to suggest a subjective state in a shot. And in scenes in a cab driver's diner, he uses closeups of observed details to show how Travis's attention is apart from the conversation, is zeroing in on a black who might be a pimp. One of the hardest things for a director to do is to suggest a character's interior state without using dialog, one of Scorsese's greatest achievements in 'Taxi Driver' is to take us inside Travis Bickle's point of view.
There are other links between 'Mean Streets' and 'Taxi Driver' that may go unnoticed. One is the overhead shots, which Scorsese has said are intended to reflect a priest looking down at the implements of the Mass on the altar. We see, through Travis's eyes, the top of a taxi dispatcher's desk, candy on a movie counter, guns on a bed, and finally, with the camera apparently seeing through the ceiling, an overhead shot of the massacre in the red-light building. This is, if you will, the final sacrifice of the Mass. And it was in 'Mean Streets' that Keitel repeatedly put his finger in the flame of a candle or a match, testing the fires of hell but here De Niro's taxi driver holds his fist above a gas flame.
There has been much discussion about the ending, in which we see newspaper clippings about Travis's "heroism", and then Betsy gets into his cab and seems to give him admiration instead of her earlier disgust. Is this a fantasy scene? Did Travis survive the shoot-out? Are we experiencing his dying thoughts? Can the sequence be accepted as literally true?
I am not sure there can be an answer to these questions. The end sequence completes the story on an emotional, not a literal, level character. We end not on carnage but on redemption, which is the goal of so many of Scorsese's characters. They despise themselves, they live in sin, they occupy mean streets, but they want to be forgiven and admired. Whether Travis gains that status in reality or only in his mind is not the point; throughout the film, his mental state has shaped his reality, and at last, in some way, it has brought him a kind of peace.
Taxi Driver - Trailer
It is the last line, "Well, I'm the only one here," that never gets quoted. It is the truest line in the film. Travis Bickle exists in 'Taxi Driver' as a character with a desperate need to make some kind of contact somehow, to share or mimic the effortless social interaction he sees all around him, but does not participate in.
The film can be seen as a series of his failed attempts to connect, every one of them hopelessly wrong. He asks a girl out on a date, and takes her to a porno movie. He sucks up to a political candidate, and ends by alarming him. He tries to make small talk with a Secret Service agent. He wants to befriend a child prostitute, but scares her away. He is so lonely that when he asks, "Who you talkin' to?" he is addressing himself in a mirror.
This utter aloneness is at the centre of 'Taxi Driver', one of the best and most powerful of all films, and perhaps it is why so many people connect with it even though Travis Bickle would seem to be the most alienating of movie heroes. We have all felt as alone as Travis. Most of us are just better at dealing with it.
Martin Scorsese's 1976 film is a film that does not grow dated, or over-familiar. I have seen it dozens of times. Every time I see it, it works; I am drawn into Travis's underworld of alienation, loneliness, haplessness and anger.
In 'Taxi Driver', Travis Bickle is also a war veteran, horribly scarred in Vietnam. He encounters a 12-year-old prostitute named Iris (Jodie Foster), controlled by a pimp named Sport (Harvey Keitel). Sport wears an Indian headband. Travis determines to "rescue" Iris, and does so, in a bloodbath that is unsurpassed even in the films of Scorsese. A letter and clippings from the Steensmas, Iris' parents, thank him for saving their girl. But a crucial earlier scene between Iris and Sport suggests that she was content to be with him, and the reasons why she ran away from home are not explored.
The buried message is that an alienated man, unable to establish normal relationships, becomes a loner and wanderer, and assigns himself to rescue an innocent young girl from a life that offends his prejudices. In 'Taxi Driver', this central story is surrounded by many smaller ones, all building to the same theme. The story takes place during a political campaign, and Travis twice finds himself with the candidate, Palatine, in his cab. He goes through the motions of ingratiating flattery, but we, and Palatine, sense something wrong.
Shortly after that Travis tries to "free" one of Palatine's campaign workers, a blonde he has idealized (Cybill Shepherd), from the Palatine campaign. That goes wrong with the crazy idea of a date at a porno movie. And then, after the fearsome rehearsal in the mirror, he becomes a walking arsenal and goes to assassinate Palatine. The Palatine scenes are like dress rehearsals for the ending of the film. With both Betsy and Iris, he has a friendly conversation in a coffee shop, followed by an aborted "date", followed by attacks on the men he perceived as controlling them, he tries unsuccessfully to assassinate Palatine, and then goes gunning for Sport.
There are undercurrents in the film that you can sense without quite putting your finger on them. Travis's implied feelings about blacks, for example, which emerge in two long shots in a taxi driver's hangout, when he exchanges looks with a man who may be a drug dealer. His ambivalent feelings about sex (he lives in a world of pornography, but the sexual activity he observes in the city fills him with loathing). His hatred for the city, inhabited by "scum". His preference for working at night, and the way Scorsese's cinematographer, Michael Chapman, makes the yellow cab into a vessel by which Travis journeys the underworld, as steam escapes from vents in the streets, and the cab splashes through water from hydrants...great visuals.
The film has a certain stylistic resonance with 'Mean Streets' (1973), the first Scorsese film in which Keitel and De Niro worked together. In the earlier film Scorsese uses varying speeds of slow-motion to suggest a level of heightened observation on the part of his characters, and here that technique is developed even more dramatically, as the taxi drives through Manhattan's streets, we see it in ordinary time, but Travis's point-of-view shots are slowed down. He sees hookers and pimps on the sidewalks, and his heightened awareness is made acute through slow motion.
The technique of slow motion is familiar to audiences, who usually see it in romantic scenes, or scenes in which regret and melancholy are expressed or sometimes in scenes where a catastrophe looms, and cannot be avoided. But Scorsese was finding a personal use for it, a way to suggest a subjective state in a shot. And in scenes in a cab driver's diner, he uses closeups of observed details to show how Travis's attention is apart from the conversation, is zeroing in on a black who might be a pimp. One of the hardest things for a director to do is to suggest a character's interior state without using dialog, one of Scorsese's greatest achievements in 'Taxi Driver' is to take us inside Travis Bickle's point of view.
There are other links between 'Mean Streets' and 'Taxi Driver' that may go unnoticed. One is the overhead shots, which Scorsese has said are intended to reflect a priest looking down at the implements of the Mass on the altar. We see, through Travis's eyes, the top of a taxi dispatcher's desk, candy on a movie counter, guns on a bed, and finally, with the camera apparently seeing through the ceiling, an overhead shot of the massacre in the red-light building. This is, if you will, the final sacrifice of the Mass. And it was in 'Mean Streets' that Keitel repeatedly put his finger in the flame of a candle or a match, testing the fires of hell but here De Niro's taxi driver holds his fist above a gas flame.
There has been much discussion about the ending, in which we see newspaper clippings about Travis's "heroism", and then Betsy gets into his cab and seems to give him admiration instead of her earlier disgust. Is this a fantasy scene? Did Travis survive the shoot-out? Are we experiencing his dying thoughts? Can the sequence be accepted as literally true?
I am not sure there can be an answer to these questions. The end sequence completes the story on an emotional, not a literal, level character. We end not on carnage but on redemption, which is the goal of so many of Scorsese's characters. They despise themselves, they live in sin, they occupy mean streets, but they want to be forgiven and admired. Whether Travis gains that status in reality or only in his mind is not the point; throughout the film, his mental state has shaped his reality, and at last, in some way, it has brought him a kind of peace.
Taxi Driver - Trailer
Movie Review - Drive
The Driver drives for hire. He has no other name, and no other life. When we first see him, he's the wheelman for a getaway car, who runs from police pursuit not only by using sheer speed and muscle, but by coolly exploiting the street terrain and outsmarting his pursuers. By day, he is a stunt driver for action movies. The two jobs represent no conflict for him: He drives, pure and simple.
Played by Ryan Gosling, he has no family, no history and seemingly few emotions. Whatever happened to him drove any personality deep beneath the surface. He is an existential hero, I suppose, defined entirely by his behavior.
That would qualify him as the hero of a mindless action picture, all CGI and crashes and mayhem. 'Drive' is more of an elegant exercise in style, and its emotions may be hidden but they run deep. Sometimes a movie will make a greater impact by not trying too hard. The enigma of the driver is surrounded by a rich gallery of supporting actors who are clear about their hopes and fears, and who have either reached an accommodation with the Driver, or not. Here is still another illustration of the old Hollywood noir principle that a movie lives its life not through its hero, but within its shadows.
The Driver lives somewhere next to his neighbour Irene, played by Carey Mulligan, a template of vulnerability. She has a young son, Benecio (Kaden Leos), who seems to stir the Driver's affection, although he isn't the effusive type. They grow warm, but in a week, her husband, Standard (Oscar Isaac), is released from prison. Against our expectations, Standard isn't jealous or hostile about the new neighbour, but sizes him up, sees a professional and quickly pitches a $1 million heist idea. That will provide the engine for the rest of the story, and as Irene and Benecio are endangered, the Driver reveals deep feelings and loyalties indeed, and undergoes enormous risk at little necessary benefit to himself.
The film by the Danish director Nicolas Winding Refn, based on a novel by James Sallis, peoples its story with characters who bring lifetimes onto the screen, in contrast to the Driver, who brings as little as possible. Ron Perlman seems to be a big-time operator working out of a small-time front, a pizzeria. Albert Brooks, plays a producer of the kinds of B movies the Driver does stunt driving for, and also has a sideline in crime. These people are ruthless.
More benign is Bryan Cranston, as the kind of man you know the Driver must have behind him, a genius at auto repairs, restoration and supercharging.
I mentioned CGI earlier. 'Drive' seems to have little of it. Most of the stunt driving looks real to me, with cars of weight and heft, rather than animated impossible fantasies. The entire film, in fact, seems much more real than the usual action-crime-chase concoctions we've grown tired of. Here is a movie with respect for writing, acting and craft. It has respect for knowledgable moviegoers. There were moments when I was reminded of 'Bullitt' which was so much better than the films it inspired. The key thing you want to feel, during a chase scene, is involvement in the purpose of the chase. You have to care. Too often we're simply witnessing technology. And of course he drives a Mustang!!!
Maybe there was another reason I thought of 'Bullitt'. Ryan Gosling is a charismatic actor, as Steve McQueen was. 'Drive' looks like one of those kind of movie in the ads, and it is that kind of movie.
Drive - Trailer
Played by Ryan Gosling, he has no family, no history and seemingly few emotions. Whatever happened to him drove any personality deep beneath the surface. He is an existential hero, I suppose, defined entirely by his behavior.
That would qualify him as the hero of a mindless action picture, all CGI and crashes and mayhem. 'Drive' is more of an elegant exercise in style, and its emotions may be hidden but they run deep. Sometimes a movie will make a greater impact by not trying too hard. The enigma of the driver is surrounded by a rich gallery of supporting actors who are clear about their hopes and fears, and who have either reached an accommodation with the Driver, or not. Here is still another illustration of the old Hollywood noir principle that a movie lives its life not through its hero, but within its shadows.
The Driver lives somewhere next to his neighbour Irene, played by Carey Mulligan, a template of vulnerability. She has a young son, Benecio (Kaden Leos), who seems to stir the Driver's affection, although he isn't the effusive type. They grow warm, but in a week, her husband, Standard (Oscar Isaac), is released from prison. Against our expectations, Standard isn't jealous or hostile about the new neighbour, but sizes him up, sees a professional and quickly pitches a $1 million heist idea. That will provide the engine for the rest of the story, and as Irene and Benecio are endangered, the Driver reveals deep feelings and loyalties indeed, and undergoes enormous risk at little necessary benefit to himself.
The film by the Danish director Nicolas Winding Refn, based on a novel by James Sallis, peoples its story with characters who bring lifetimes onto the screen, in contrast to the Driver, who brings as little as possible. Ron Perlman seems to be a big-time operator working out of a small-time front, a pizzeria. Albert Brooks, plays a producer of the kinds of B movies the Driver does stunt driving for, and also has a sideline in crime. These people are ruthless.
More benign is Bryan Cranston, as the kind of man you know the Driver must have behind him, a genius at auto repairs, restoration and supercharging.
I mentioned CGI earlier. 'Drive' seems to have little of it. Most of the stunt driving looks real to me, with cars of weight and heft, rather than animated impossible fantasies. The entire film, in fact, seems much more real than the usual action-crime-chase concoctions we've grown tired of. Here is a movie with respect for writing, acting and craft. It has respect for knowledgable moviegoers. There were moments when I was reminded of 'Bullitt' which was so much better than the films it inspired. The key thing you want to feel, during a chase scene, is involvement in the purpose of the chase. You have to care. Too often we're simply witnessing technology. And of course he drives a Mustang!!!
Maybe there was another reason I thought of 'Bullitt'. Ryan Gosling is a charismatic actor, as Steve McQueen was. 'Drive' looks like one of those kind of movie in the ads, and it is that kind of movie.
Drive - Trailer
Tuesday, 10 June 2014
Movie Review - Goodfellas
"As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to be a gangster. To me, being a gangster was better than being President of the United States".
So says Henry Hill in the opening moments of Martin Scorsese’s 'GoodFellas', a movie about the tradecraft and culture of organized crime in New York. That he narrates his own story, and is later joined by his wife, narrating hers, this crucial to the movie’s success. This is not an outsider’s view, but a point of view movie based on nostalgia for the lifestyle. “They were blue-collar guys” Hill’s wife explains. “The only way they could make extra money, real extra money, was to go out and cut a few corners.” Their power was intoxicating. “If we wanted something, we just took it", Henry says. “If anyone complained twice they got hit so bad, believe me, they never complained again".
At the end of the film, Henry (Ray Liotta) still misses the old days. His money is gone, most of his friends are dead, and his best friend was preparing to kill him, but after he finds safety in the federal witness protection program, he still complains. “We were treated like movie stars with muscle", he remembers. “Today, everything is different. There’s no action. I have to wait around like everyone else".
The rewards of unearned privilege are at the heart of 'GoodFellas'. There’s an early scene introducing Henry’s partner Jimmy Conway (Robert De Niro), and he enters the shot in a sort of glowing modesty; his body language says, “no applause, please”. Henry’s other partner is Tommy DeVito (Joe Pesci), who makes the mistake of over-exercising his clout instead of letting it go without saying. In one of the great buildups and payoffs in movie history, he believes he’s going to become a “made” man, realises his mistake too late, and says “Oh, no” before being shot in the head. He never learned to relax and enjoy his privileges. He always had to push things.
The early scenes of 'GoodFellas' show young Henry Hill as a gofer for the local Brooklyn mob, which has its headquarters in a taxi garage right across the street from his house. In a movie famous for violence that arrives instantly, without warning, the most shocking surprise comes when Henry is slapped by his father for missing school. He had to “take a few beatings” at home because of his teenage career choice, Henry remembers, but it was worth it. Violence is like a drumbeat under every scene.
Henry’s sells stolen cigarettes out of car trunks, torches a car lot, has enough money at 21 to tip lavishly. In the most famous shot in the movie, he takes his future wife Karen (Lorraine Bracco) to the Copacabana nightclub. There’s a line in front, but he escorts her across the street, down stairs and service corridors, through the kitchen area, and out into the showroom just as their table is being placed right in front of the stage. This unbroken shot, which lasts 184 seconds, is not simply a cameraman’s stunt, but an inspired way to show how the whole world seems to unfold effortlessly before young Henry Hill. Total class!!
There is another fantastic shot, as Henry introduces us to his fellow gangsters. Henry leads the camera through a crowded club, calling out names as the characters nod to the camera or speak to Henry. Sometimes the camera seems to follow Henry, but at other times it seems to represent his point of view, sometimes he’s talking to them, sometimes to us. This strategy implicates us in the action. The cinematographer, Michael Ballhaus, did not get one of the film’s six Oscar nominations, but was a key collaborator. Following Scorsese’s signature style, he almost never allows his camera to be still; it is always moving, if only a little, and a moving camera makes us not passive observers but active voyeurs.
The screenplay by Nicholas Pileggi and Scorsese is based on Pileggi’s book about Hill, Wiseguy: Life in a Mafia Family. It is equally based, probably, on Scorsese’s own memories of Little Italy. It shows a mob family headed by Paul Cicero (Paul Sorvino), who never talks on the phone, dislikes group conversations, disapproves of drugs (because the sentences are too high), and sounds like a parish priest when he orders Henry to return home to his wife. That doesn't mean he has to dump his mistress; all the guys seem to have both a wife and a mistress, who are plied with stolen goods of astonishing tastelessness.
'GoodFellas' is unusual in giving good screen time to the women, who are usually unseen in gangster movies. Karen Hill narrates her own side of the story, confessing that she was attracted to Henry’s clout and fame; after she tells Henry the guy across the street tried to hit on her, Henry pistol-whips him and then gives her the gun to hide. She tells us: “I know there are women, like my best friends, who would have gotten out of there the minute their boyfriend gave them a gun to hide. But I didn't. I got to admit the truth. It turned me on.” It is reasonable to suggest that 'The Sopranos' finds its origin in the narrations in 'GoodFellas', especially Karen’s.
Underlying the violence is a story of economic ambition. Henry and Karen come from backgrounds that could not easily lead to Cadillacs, vacations in Vegas and fur coats, and she justifies what he has to do to pay for the lifestyle: “None of it seemed like crimes. It was more like Henry was enterprising and that he and the guys were making a few bucks hustling, while the other guys were sitting on their asses waiting for handouts.”
The story follows Henry’s movement up into the mob and then down into prison sentences and ultimate betrayal. At first the mob seems like an opening-up of his life, but later, after he starts selling drugs, there is a claustrophobic closing-in. The camera style in the earlier scenes celebrates his power and influence with expansive ease. At the end, in a frantic sequence concentrated in a single day, the style becomes hurried and choppy as he races frantically around the neighborhood on family and criminal missions while a helicopter always seems to hover overhead. This is filmmaking!!
What Scorsese does above all else is share his enthusiasm for the material. The film has the headlong momentum of a storyteller who knows he has a good one to share. Scorsese’s camera caresses these guys, pays attention to the shines on their shoes and the cut of their clothes. And when they're planning the famous Lufthansa robbery, he has them whispering together in a tight three-shot that has their heads leaning low and close with the thrill of their own audacity. You can see how much fun it is for them to steal.
The film’s method is to interrupt dialogue with violence. Sometimes there are false alarms, as in Pesci’s famous restaurant scene where Tommy wants to know what Henry meant when he said he was “funny”. Other moments well up suddenly out of the very mob culture: The way Tommy shoots the kid in the foot, and later murders him. The way kidding-around in a bar leads to a man being savagely beaten. The way the violence penetrates the daily lives of the characters is always insisted on. Tommy, Henry and Jimmy, with a body in their trunk, stop at Tommy’s mother’s house to get a knife, and she insists they sit down at 3 a.m. for a meal.
Scorsese seems so much in command of his gift in this film. It was defeated for the best picture Oscar by 'Dances with Wolves'. It explains crime’s appeal for a hungry young man who has learned from childhood beatings not to hate power, but to envy it. When Henry Hill talks to us at the opening of the film, he sounds like a kid in love: “To me, it meant being somebody in a neighbourhood that was full of nobodies. They weren't like anybody else. I mean, they did whatever they wanted. They double-parked in front of a hydrant and nobody ever gave them a ticket. In the summer when they played cards all night, nobody ever called the cops.”
A fantastic movie that stands up to multiple viewings
So says Henry Hill in the opening moments of Martin Scorsese’s 'GoodFellas', a movie about the tradecraft and culture of organized crime in New York. That he narrates his own story, and is later joined by his wife, narrating hers, this crucial to the movie’s success. This is not an outsider’s view, but a point of view movie based on nostalgia for the lifestyle. “They were blue-collar guys” Hill’s wife explains. “The only way they could make extra money, real extra money, was to go out and cut a few corners.” Their power was intoxicating. “If we wanted something, we just took it", Henry says. “If anyone complained twice they got hit so bad, believe me, they never complained again".
At the end of the film, Henry (Ray Liotta) still misses the old days. His money is gone, most of his friends are dead, and his best friend was preparing to kill him, but after he finds safety in the federal witness protection program, he still complains. “We were treated like movie stars with muscle", he remembers. “Today, everything is different. There’s no action. I have to wait around like everyone else".
The rewards of unearned privilege are at the heart of 'GoodFellas'. There’s an early scene introducing Henry’s partner Jimmy Conway (Robert De Niro), and he enters the shot in a sort of glowing modesty; his body language says, “no applause, please”. Henry’s other partner is Tommy DeVito (Joe Pesci), who makes the mistake of over-exercising his clout instead of letting it go without saying. In one of the great buildups and payoffs in movie history, he believes he’s going to become a “made” man, realises his mistake too late, and says “Oh, no” before being shot in the head. He never learned to relax and enjoy his privileges. He always had to push things.
The early scenes of 'GoodFellas' show young Henry Hill as a gofer for the local Brooklyn mob, which has its headquarters in a taxi garage right across the street from his house. In a movie famous for violence that arrives instantly, without warning, the most shocking surprise comes when Henry is slapped by his father for missing school. He had to “take a few beatings” at home because of his teenage career choice, Henry remembers, but it was worth it. Violence is like a drumbeat under every scene.
Henry’s sells stolen cigarettes out of car trunks, torches a car lot, has enough money at 21 to tip lavishly. In the most famous shot in the movie, he takes his future wife Karen (Lorraine Bracco) to the Copacabana nightclub. There’s a line in front, but he escorts her across the street, down stairs and service corridors, through the kitchen area, and out into the showroom just as their table is being placed right in front of the stage. This unbroken shot, which lasts 184 seconds, is not simply a cameraman’s stunt, but an inspired way to show how the whole world seems to unfold effortlessly before young Henry Hill. Total class!!
There is another fantastic shot, as Henry introduces us to his fellow gangsters. Henry leads the camera through a crowded club, calling out names as the characters nod to the camera or speak to Henry. Sometimes the camera seems to follow Henry, but at other times it seems to represent his point of view, sometimes he’s talking to them, sometimes to us. This strategy implicates us in the action. The cinematographer, Michael Ballhaus, did not get one of the film’s six Oscar nominations, but was a key collaborator. Following Scorsese’s signature style, he almost never allows his camera to be still; it is always moving, if only a little, and a moving camera makes us not passive observers but active voyeurs.
The screenplay by Nicholas Pileggi and Scorsese is based on Pileggi’s book about Hill, Wiseguy: Life in a Mafia Family. It is equally based, probably, on Scorsese’s own memories of Little Italy. It shows a mob family headed by Paul Cicero (Paul Sorvino), who never talks on the phone, dislikes group conversations, disapproves of drugs (because the sentences are too high), and sounds like a parish priest when he orders Henry to return home to his wife. That doesn't mean he has to dump his mistress; all the guys seem to have both a wife and a mistress, who are plied with stolen goods of astonishing tastelessness.
'GoodFellas' is unusual in giving good screen time to the women, who are usually unseen in gangster movies. Karen Hill narrates her own side of the story, confessing that she was attracted to Henry’s clout and fame; after she tells Henry the guy across the street tried to hit on her, Henry pistol-whips him and then gives her the gun to hide. She tells us: “I know there are women, like my best friends, who would have gotten out of there the minute their boyfriend gave them a gun to hide. But I didn't. I got to admit the truth. It turned me on.” It is reasonable to suggest that 'The Sopranos' finds its origin in the narrations in 'GoodFellas', especially Karen’s.
Underlying the violence is a story of economic ambition. Henry and Karen come from backgrounds that could not easily lead to Cadillacs, vacations in Vegas and fur coats, and she justifies what he has to do to pay for the lifestyle: “None of it seemed like crimes. It was more like Henry was enterprising and that he and the guys were making a few bucks hustling, while the other guys were sitting on their asses waiting for handouts.”
The story follows Henry’s movement up into the mob and then down into prison sentences and ultimate betrayal. At first the mob seems like an opening-up of his life, but later, after he starts selling drugs, there is a claustrophobic closing-in. The camera style in the earlier scenes celebrates his power and influence with expansive ease. At the end, in a frantic sequence concentrated in a single day, the style becomes hurried and choppy as he races frantically around the neighborhood on family and criminal missions while a helicopter always seems to hover overhead. This is filmmaking!!
What Scorsese does above all else is share his enthusiasm for the material. The film has the headlong momentum of a storyteller who knows he has a good one to share. Scorsese’s camera caresses these guys, pays attention to the shines on their shoes and the cut of their clothes. And when they're planning the famous Lufthansa robbery, he has them whispering together in a tight three-shot that has their heads leaning low and close with the thrill of their own audacity. You can see how much fun it is for them to steal.
The film’s method is to interrupt dialogue with violence. Sometimes there are false alarms, as in Pesci’s famous restaurant scene where Tommy wants to know what Henry meant when he said he was “funny”. Other moments well up suddenly out of the very mob culture: The way Tommy shoots the kid in the foot, and later murders him. The way kidding-around in a bar leads to a man being savagely beaten. The way the violence penetrates the daily lives of the characters is always insisted on. Tommy, Henry and Jimmy, with a body in their trunk, stop at Tommy’s mother’s house to get a knife, and she insists they sit down at 3 a.m. for a meal.
Scorsese seems so much in command of his gift in this film. It was defeated for the best picture Oscar by 'Dances with Wolves'. It explains crime’s appeal for a hungry young man who has learned from childhood beatings not to hate power, but to envy it. When Henry Hill talks to us at the opening of the film, he sounds like a kid in love: “To me, it meant being somebody in a neighbourhood that was full of nobodies. They weren't like anybody else. I mean, they did whatever they wanted. They double-parked in front of a hydrant and nobody ever gave them a ticket. In the summer when they played cards all night, nobody ever called the cops.”
A fantastic movie that stands up to multiple viewings
Monday, 9 June 2014
Movie Review - Robocop (2013)
The movie begins with what it believes constitutes some kind of wit: A television program of the near-future called "The Novak Element" in which a loud-mouth opinion-mongering host—is he right-wing? is he left-wing? the movie won't really make that clear, the character is played by Samuel L. Jackson—expresses grievances over the fact that law-enforcement robots developed by "Omnicorp" are now being used in every country in the world but America. To demonstrate how egregious this is, Novak shows his remote camera crew in what appears to be U.S. occupied Tehran, guarded by robot drones that keep it safe as suicide bombers run rampant in the streets. This depiction of a "future" Iran is either remarkably crass, or remarkably ignorant, or some combination of both (I'm thinking it's the third option), but it's entirely emblematic of where the movie's head is at.
For the rest of the picture, the script (by Joshua Zetumer, although the screenwriters of the 1987 original are also credited) feeds the audience little bits of what it presumes to be social commentary and/or political satire, and cast members such as Michael Keaton and Gary Oldman are sufficiently skilled to almost sell these sops as insights, but ultimately it doesn't wash. This "Robocop" is the sentimental story of a Good Cop transformed into an Emotionless Robotic Killing Machine but whose Ultimately Human Spirit Triumphs to Enact Justice and Heal A Family. So yeah, it's kind of like every other 15 rated action movie of our time, except, you know, the Emotional Robotic Killing Machine part is something this potential franchise owns.
Director José Padilha stages and shoots the smash-bang action with what some call chaos-cinema chops. The set pieces are bountiful, and the better ones involve weasely Jackie Earle Haley as a robot tech who's not too thrilled that his perfect machines are going to be replaced, if evil Omnicorp has its way, by humanity-tainted cyborgs, the first of which is our title character (played by Swedish-born "The Killing" star Joel Kinnaman, who evinces both professionalism and height). But Padilha, here directing his first English-language feature, doesn't really have a flair for dialogue. I noticed this most pointedly near the end of the movie, when one character said in a panicked voice "We have a problem—Alex is violating protocol," and then maybe three minutes later, in the same panicked voice, the same character says "We have a problem—Alex is violating protocol." Maybe there was a slight variation in the "we have a problem" part, but we definitely got the point that Alex (the first name of the movie's title character, in case you haven't guessed) was violating protocol.
All that being said, I enjoyed the movie. Anything Gary Oldman is in I love. Plenty of action. The "disengage your brain type of movie".
Robocop - Movie Trailer
For the rest of the picture, the script (by Joshua Zetumer, although the screenwriters of the 1987 original are also credited) feeds the audience little bits of what it presumes to be social commentary and/or political satire, and cast members such as Michael Keaton and Gary Oldman are sufficiently skilled to almost sell these sops as insights, but ultimately it doesn't wash. This "Robocop" is the sentimental story of a Good Cop transformed into an Emotionless Robotic Killing Machine but whose Ultimately Human Spirit Triumphs to Enact Justice and Heal A Family. So yeah, it's kind of like every other 15 rated action movie of our time, except, you know, the Emotional Robotic Killing Machine part is something this potential franchise owns.
Director José Padilha stages and shoots the smash-bang action with what some call chaos-cinema chops. The set pieces are bountiful, and the better ones involve weasely Jackie Earle Haley as a robot tech who's not too thrilled that his perfect machines are going to be replaced, if evil Omnicorp has its way, by humanity-tainted cyborgs, the first of which is our title character (played by Swedish-born "The Killing" star Joel Kinnaman, who evinces both professionalism and height). But Padilha, here directing his first English-language feature, doesn't really have a flair for dialogue. I noticed this most pointedly near the end of the movie, when one character said in a panicked voice "We have a problem—Alex is violating protocol," and then maybe three minutes later, in the same panicked voice, the same character says "We have a problem—Alex is violating protocol." Maybe there was a slight variation in the "we have a problem" part, but we definitely got the point that Alex (the first name of the movie's title character, in case you haven't guessed) was violating protocol.
All that being said, I enjoyed the movie. Anything Gary Oldman is in I love. Plenty of action. The "disengage your brain type of movie".
Robocop - Movie Trailer
Monday, 26 May 2014
Movie Review - Trainspotting
Substance abuse sets the user apart from the daily lives of ordinary people. No matter how well the addict may seem to be functioning, there is always the secret agenda, the knowledge that the drug of choice is more important than the mundane business at hand, such as friends, family, jobs, play and sex.
Because no one can really understand that urgency as well as another addict, there is a shared humor, desperation and understanding among users. There is even a relief, lies and evasions are unnecessary among friends who share the same needs. 'Trainspotting' knows that truth in its very bones. The movie has been attacked as pro-drug and defended as anti-drug, but actually it is simply pragmatic. It knows that addiction leads to an unmanageable, exhausting, intensely uncomfortable daily routine, and it knows that only two things make it bearable: a supply of the drug of choice, and the understanding of fellow addicts.
Former alcoholics and drug abusers often report that they don't miss the substances nearly as much as the conditions under which they were used, the camaraderie of the true drinkers bar, for example, where the standing joke is that the straight world just doesn't get it, doesn't understand that the disease is life and the treatment is another drink. The reason there is a fierce joy in 'Trainspotting', despite the appalling things that happen in it, is that it's basically about friends in need.
The movie, based on a popular novel by Irvine Welsh, is about a crowd of heroin addicts who run together in Edinburgh. The story is narrated by Renton (Ewan McGregor), who will, and does, dive into “the filthiest toilet in Scotland” in search of mislaid drugs. He introduces us to his friends, including Spud (Ewen Bremner), who confronts a job interview panel, on drugs, with a selection of their worst nightmares, Sick Boy (Jonny Lee Miller), whose theories about Sean Connery do not seem to flow from ever having seen his movies sober, Tommy (Kevin McKidd), who returns to drugs one time too many, and Begbie (Robert Carlyle), who brags about not using drugs but is a psychotic who throws beer mugs at bar patrons. What a lad, that Begbie.
These friends sleep where they can be it in a drug den, squats and in the beds of girls they meet at night clubs. They have assorted girlfriends, and there is even a baby in the movie, but they are not settled in any way, and no place is home. Near the beginning of the film, Renton decides to clean up, and nails himself into a room with soup, ice cream, milk of magnesia, Valium, water, a TV set and buckets for urine, feces, and vomit. Soon the nails have been ripped from the door jambs, but eventually Renton does detox (“I don't feel the sickness yet but it's in the post, that's for sure”), and he even goes straight for a while, taking a job in London as a housing rental agent.
But his friends find him, a promising drug deal comes along, and in one of the most disturbing images in the movie, Renton throws away his hard-earned sobriety by testing the drug, and declaring it... wonderful. No doubt about it, drugs do make him feel good. It's just that they make him feel bad all the rest of the time. The characters in 'Trainspotting' are violent (they attack a tourist) and carelessly amoral (no one, no matter how desperate, should regard a baby the way they seem to). The legends they rehearse about each other are all based on screwing up, causing pain, and taking outrageous steps to find or avoid drugs. One day they try to take a walk in the countryside, but such an ordinary action is far beyond their ability to perform.
The massive cult following 'Trainspotting' has generated here in the UK, as a book, a play and a movie. It uses a colourful vocabulary, it contains a lot of energy, it elevates its miserable heroes to the status of icons (in their own eyes, that is), and it does evoke the Edinburgh drug landscape with a conviction. But what else does it do? Does it lead anywhere? Say anything? Not really. That's the whole point. Drug use is not linear but circular. You never get anywhere unless you keep returning to the starting point. But you make fierce friends along the way. Too bad if they die.
Trainspotting - Movie Trailer
Because no one can really understand that urgency as well as another addict, there is a shared humor, desperation and understanding among users. There is even a relief, lies and evasions are unnecessary among friends who share the same needs. 'Trainspotting' knows that truth in its very bones. The movie has been attacked as pro-drug and defended as anti-drug, but actually it is simply pragmatic. It knows that addiction leads to an unmanageable, exhausting, intensely uncomfortable daily routine, and it knows that only two things make it bearable: a supply of the drug of choice, and the understanding of fellow addicts.
Former alcoholics and drug abusers often report that they don't miss the substances nearly as much as the conditions under which they were used, the camaraderie of the true drinkers bar, for example, where the standing joke is that the straight world just doesn't get it, doesn't understand that the disease is life and the treatment is another drink. The reason there is a fierce joy in 'Trainspotting', despite the appalling things that happen in it, is that it's basically about friends in need.
The movie, based on a popular novel by Irvine Welsh, is about a crowd of heroin addicts who run together in Edinburgh. The story is narrated by Renton (Ewan McGregor), who will, and does, dive into “the filthiest toilet in Scotland” in search of mislaid drugs. He introduces us to his friends, including Spud (Ewen Bremner), who confronts a job interview panel, on drugs, with a selection of their worst nightmares, Sick Boy (Jonny Lee Miller), whose theories about Sean Connery do not seem to flow from ever having seen his movies sober, Tommy (Kevin McKidd), who returns to drugs one time too many, and Begbie (Robert Carlyle), who brags about not using drugs but is a psychotic who throws beer mugs at bar patrons. What a lad, that Begbie.
These friends sleep where they can be it in a drug den, squats and in the beds of girls they meet at night clubs. They have assorted girlfriends, and there is even a baby in the movie, but they are not settled in any way, and no place is home. Near the beginning of the film, Renton decides to clean up, and nails himself into a room with soup, ice cream, milk of magnesia, Valium, water, a TV set and buckets for urine, feces, and vomit. Soon the nails have been ripped from the door jambs, but eventually Renton does detox (“I don't feel the sickness yet but it's in the post, that's for sure”), and he even goes straight for a while, taking a job in London as a housing rental agent.
But his friends find him, a promising drug deal comes along, and in one of the most disturbing images in the movie, Renton throws away his hard-earned sobriety by testing the drug, and declaring it... wonderful. No doubt about it, drugs do make him feel good. It's just that they make him feel bad all the rest of the time. The characters in 'Trainspotting' are violent (they attack a tourist) and carelessly amoral (no one, no matter how desperate, should regard a baby the way they seem to). The legends they rehearse about each other are all based on screwing up, causing pain, and taking outrageous steps to find or avoid drugs. One day they try to take a walk in the countryside, but such an ordinary action is far beyond their ability to perform.
The massive cult following 'Trainspotting' has generated here in the UK, as a book, a play and a movie. It uses a colourful vocabulary, it contains a lot of energy, it elevates its miserable heroes to the status of icons (in their own eyes, that is), and it does evoke the Edinburgh drug landscape with a conviction. But what else does it do? Does it lead anywhere? Say anything? Not really. That's the whole point. Drug use is not linear but circular. You never get anywhere unless you keep returning to the starting point. But you make fierce friends along the way. Too bad if they die.
Trainspotting - Movie Trailer
Sunday, 25 May 2014
Movie Review - Filth
Bruce Robertson is a cunt. A lying, thieving, cheating, racist, misogynist, homophobic dickhead who would sooner drug you and steal your watch than give you the time of day, and if he did give you the time of day it would be after looking at your own watch, which he has just stolen. He pinches kids' balloon's, blackmails an underage girl into oral sex and screws his friends' and colleagues' wives. He's also a Detective Sergeant in Edinburgh's Lothian Constabulary. Filth is brought to you by Irvine Welsh, author of Trainspotting, so I suppose this is the bit where we make all the comparisons. Yep, there's a killer soundtrack which includes some ironic use of classical music, some unsettling fantasy sequences, some kinetic camerawork, a dash of hyperactive editing and, of course, a deeply flawed, quite awful character from whom it's impossible to tear your eyes away. It'd make an excellent companion piece to Danny Boyle's film, but Filth also stands on its own as a movie bold and ballsy enough to jolt you into realising how stuffy most of what you've seen lately really is.
Most of Filth's success is down to an astonishing performance from James McAvoy. McAvoy plays bastard Bruce Robertson with a fierce, boggle-eyed lunacy. Required to run the gamut from sympathetic, troubled victim of circumstance to sweaty, coke-fuelled rage monster, McAvoy is a horrifically enjoyable revelation here.
As Robertson wildly navigates a murder enquiry by spending more time stepping over his colleagues in order to win promotion than actually investigating the crime, he fucks over almost everyone he meets: Eddie Marsan's likeable doormat Clifford Blades, and weirdly Robertson's best and only friend; Jamie Bell's cocky but inadequate rookie Ray Lennox; even Kate Dickie's Chrissy, the wife of another colleague with whom Bruce enjoys regular S&M sessions. Only Joanne Froggatt's Mary brings out the nice guy - and there is a nice guy, but he's buried beneath layers of arseholery so deep that we're encouraged to wonder how things ever got so bad.
Which is where Filth loses its edge somewhat; scenes in which a nightmarish psychiatrist played by Jim Broadbent gradually reveals what's at the centre of Robertson's rotting soul, feels as if they've been added at the last minute in order to clear up any ambiguity. But it's a minor niggle in a film that's otherwise perfectly judged: writer/director Jon S. Baird never lets the insanity get too exhausting, and when sentimentality threatens to creep in you know you're not too far away from someone yelling something like "GET YER FACE OFF MA COCK!"
As the murder investigation, the promotion race and Bruce's severe mental issues culminate in typically berserk fashion, seasoned audiences may be unsurprised by the final act revelations. But that's a small price to pay for a journey so utterly bonkers, degraded and, well, filthy. Wrong on almost every level but so, so right, Filth is simultaneously hilarious, appalling and tragic, and James McAvoy both its greatest asset and its biggest cunt.
Filth - Movie Trailer
Most of Filth's success is down to an astonishing performance from James McAvoy. McAvoy plays bastard Bruce Robertson with a fierce, boggle-eyed lunacy. Required to run the gamut from sympathetic, troubled victim of circumstance to sweaty, coke-fuelled rage monster, McAvoy is a horrifically enjoyable revelation here.
As Robertson wildly navigates a murder enquiry by spending more time stepping over his colleagues in order to win promotion than actually investigating the crime, he fucks over almost everyone he meets: Eddie Marsan's likeable doormat Clifford Blades, and weirdly Robertson's best and only friend; Jamie Bell's cocky but inadequate rookie Ray Lennox; even Kate Dickie's Chrissy, the wife of another colleague with whom Bruce enjoys regular S&M sessions. Only Joanne Froggatt's Mary brings out the nice guy - and there is a nice guy, but he's buried beneath layers of arseholery so deep that we're encouraged to wonder how things ever got so bad.
Which is where Filth loses its edge somewhat; scenes in which a nightmarish psychiatrist played by Jim Broadbent gradually reveals what's at the centre of Robertson's rotting soul, feels as if they've been added at the last minute in order to clear up any ambiguity. But it's a minor niggle in a film that's otherwise perfectly judged: writer/director Jon S. Baird never lets the insanity get too exhausting, and when sentimentality threatens to creep in you know you're not too far away from someone yelling something like "GET YER FACE OFF MA COCK!"
As the murder investigation, the promotion race and Bruce's severe mental issues culminate in typically berserk fashion, seasoned audiences may be unsurprised by the final act revelations. But that's a small price to pay for a journey so utterly bonkers, degraded and, well, filthy. Wrong on almost every level but so, so right, Filth is simultaneously hilarious, appalling and tragic, and James McAvoy both its greatest asset and its biggest cunt.
Filth - Movie Trailer
Saturday, 24 May 2014
Movie Review - Highlander
Every now and again a movie comes along that fails at the box office, bombs, crashes and burns, call it what you will it just isn’t a hit. But then for some reason, a few years later, either as it’s released on video then DVD everyone seems to be talking about it. The movie gathers pace, it’s everywhere, your friends can’t stop talking about it and nothing is going to stop you from owning a copy. That’s what happened to Highlander.
Set between 1518 and 1986 (no, really) the film follows Connor Macleod (Christopher Lambert) a Scottish tribesman ‘Highlander’ who receives a fatal wound in battle but doesn’t die.
Banished from his village, Connor lives out a lonely existence until in walks, or rather rides, the cheeky, wise and rather decadent looking Ramirez (Sean Connery) who explains that Connor is immortal and can only die if he is beheaded. He must therefore train to defend himself and take his place as the last of the immortals. Cue some excellent montages of his training in martial arts and swordplay and we see Connor becoming the Highlander he was destined to be. But, alongside him, his wife grows old while he remains young and so begins a deep undertone of the film that immortality is not the gift we might hope it is. As good and true as Ramirez is, he is not the only immortal that Connor meets and The Kurgan (Clancy Brown) turns up to show that Connor has more than a simple fight on his hands. Brown plays The Kurgan brilliantly, pure evil and suitably terrifying enough to hammer home that if the world is to be saved it must be by someone honourable that becomes ‘the one’.
As time goes on we follow Connor from 16th century Scotland to the 17th century England, through the world wars and into 80’s New York. By now Connor is a rich antiques dealer but no older looking than when we first met him, wise beyond his years and trying to avoid the NYPD after metallurgist, Brenda J. Wyatt (Roxanne Hart) links him to rare metal from an ancient sword at the scene of a beheading in the city.
Connor leads Wyatt on a historical treasure hunt as she comes close to finding out the truth about this man, who seems closer to the antiques he trades than most people realise, all the while preparing himself for the ‘Quickening’ where he must literally fight for his life to ensure the power of the immortals remains in good hands. As quality of performance and direction go there’s something about Connor’s loneliness and depth that makes this more than your typical action film.
The excellently (for the time) choreographed medieval/Samurai sword fights are a pleasure to watch and as the film has grown in cult status you’ll see how it has helped influence other similar scenes in film (think Kill Bill, Blade, Batman Begins) whilst itself being referenced and quoted in far too many post 80’s films and TV shows to mention. The soundtrack is also not to be ignored, provided entirely by rock band Queen, you’ll instantly recognise 'It’s a Kind of Magic' and possibly know the ballad 'Who Wants to Live Forever?' which leaves a lump in your throat as you realise this film is as much about the loss we all face as we go through our lives as it is about immortals fighting with swords and cutting each other’s heads off.
Sadly with a lot of films that end up doing well the sequels appear and, while Highlander’s cult status seemed to be enough for five sub-standard movies and two TV spin-offs, it proves that sometimes, in the end, ‘there can only be one’.
Set between 1518 and 1986 (no, really) the film follows Connor Macleod (Christopher Lambert) a Scottish tribesman ‘Highlander’ who receives a fatal wound in battle but doesn’t die.
Banished from his village, Connor lives out a lonely existence until in walks, or rather rides, the cheeky, wise and rather decadent looking Ramirez (Sean Connery) who explains that Connor is immortal and can only die if he is beheaded. He must therefore train to defend himself and take his place as the last of the immortals. Cue some excellent montages of his training in martial arts and swordplay and we see Connor becoming the Highlander he was destined to be. But, alongside him, his wife grows old while he remains young and so begins a deep undertone of the film that immortality is not the gift we might hope it is. As good and true as Ramirez is, he is not the only immortal that Connor meets and The Kurgan (Clancy Brown) turns up to show that Connor has more than a simple fight on his hands. Brown plays The Kurgan brilliantly, pure evil and suitably terrifying enough to hammer home that if the world is to be saved it must be by someone honourable that becomes ‘the one’.
As time goes on we follow Connor from 16th century Scotland to the 17th century England, through the world wars and into 80’s New York. By now Connor is a rich antiques dealer but no older looking than when we first met him, wise beyond his years and trying to avoid the NYPD after metallurgist, Brenda J. Wyatt (Roxanne Hart) links him to rare metal from an ancient sword at the scene of a beheading in the city.
Connor leads Wyatt on a historical treasure hunt as she comes close to finding out the truth about this man, who seems closer to the antiques he trades than most people realise, all the while preparing himself for the ‘Quickening’ where he must literally fight for his life to ensure the power of the immortals remains in good hands. As quality of performance and direction go there’s something about Connor’s loneliness and depth that makes this more than your typical action film.
The excellently (for the time) choreographed medieval/Samurai sword fights are a pleasure to watch and as the film has grown in cult status you’ll see how it has helped influence other similar scenes in film (think Kill Bill, Blade, Batman Begins) whilst itself being referenced and quoted in far too many post 80’s films and TV shows to mention. The soundtrack is also not to be ignored, provided entirely by rock band Queen, you’ll instantly recognise 'It’s a Kind of Magic' and possibly know the ballad 'Who Wants to Live Forever?' which leaves a lump in your throat as you realise this film is as much about the loss we all face as we go through our lives as it is about immortals fighting with swords and cutting each other’s heads off.
Sadly with a lot of films that end up doing well the sequels appear and, while Highlander’s cult status seemed to be enough for five sub-standard movies and two TV spin-offs, it proves that sometimes, in the end, ‘there can only be one’.
Friday, 23 May 2014
Movie Review - Mr Deeds
At one point during the long ordeal of "Mr. Deeds," it is said of the Adam Sandler character, "He doesn't share our sense of ironic detachment." Is this a private joke by the writer? If there's is one thing Sandler's Mr. Deeds has, it's ironic detachment.
Like so many Sandler characters, he seems fundamentally insincere, to be aiming for the laugh even at serious moments. He plays Longfellow Deeds, pizzeria owner in the hamlet of Mandrake Falls, New Hampshire. The pizzeria is one of those establishments required in all comedies about small towns, where every single character in town gathers every single day to provide an audience for the hero, crossed with a Greek chorus. Nobody does anything in Mandrake Falls, except sit in the pizzeria and talk about Deeds. When he leaves town, they watch him on the TV.
Turns out Deeds is the distant relative of an elderly zillionaire who freezes to death in the very act of conquering Everest. Control of his media empire and a $40 billion fortune goes to Deeds, who is obviously too good-hearted and simple-minded to deserve it, so a corporate executive named Cedar (Peter Gallagher) conspires to push him aside. Meanwhile, when Deeds hits New York, a trash TV show makes him its favorite target, and producer Babe Bennett (Winona Ryder) goes undercover, convinces Deeds she loves him, and sets him up for humiliation. Then she discovers she loves him, too late.
Consider a scene where Deeds meets his new butler Emilio (John Turturro). Emilio has a foot fetish. Deeds doubts Emilio will like his right foot, which is pitch black after a childhood bout of frostbite. The foot has no feeling, Deeds says, inviting Emilio to pound it with a fireplace poker. When Deeds doesn't flinch, Turturro actually punctures the foot with the point of the poker...wtf???
There's no chemistry between Deeds and Babe, but then how could there be, considering that their characters have no existence, except as the puppets in scenes of plot manipulation. After Deeds grows disillusioned with her, there is a reconciliation inspired after she falls through the ice on a pond and he breaks through to save her using the Black Foot. In story conferences, do they discuss scenes like this and nod approvingly? Tell me, for I want to know.
The moral center of the story is curious. The media empire, we learn, controls enormous resources and employs 50,000 people. The evil Cedar wants to break it up. The good-hearted Deeds fights to keep it together so those 50,000 people won't be out of work. This is essentially a movie that wants to win our hearts with a populist hero who risks his entire fortune in order to ensure the survival of Time-AOL-Warner-Disney-Murdoch. Of the many notes I took during the film, one deserves to be shared with you. There is a scene in the movie where Deeds, the fire chief in Mandrake Falls, becomes a hero during a Manhattan fire. He scales the side of a building and rescues a woman's cats, since she refuses to be rescued before them. One after another, the cats are thrown onto a fireman's net. Finally there is a cat that is on fire. The blazing feline is tossed from the window and bounces into a bucket of water, emerging wet but intact, ho, ho, and then Deeds and the heavyset cat lady jump together and crash through the net, but Deeds' fall is cushioned by the fat lady, who is also not harmed, ho ho, giving us a heart-rending happy ending. That is not what I wrote in my notes. It is only the set-up. What I noted was that in the woman's kitchen, nothing is seen to be on fire except for a box of Special-K cereal. This is a species of product placement previously unthinkable. In product placement conferences, do they discuss scenes like this and nod approvingly? Tell me, for oh, how I want to know.
Green Day: Brain Stew - Song Meaning
Great song that I'm sure will be about drug use or something but to me its about the effects of insomnia on the mind, such as hallucinations (the clock is laughing in my face) and all that good stuff. It also seems to scream alcohol at me. "My eyes feel like they're gonna bleed // Dried up and bulging out my skull" seems like a bit of a description of a hangover, doesn't it?
Green Day: Brain Stew - Music Video
Green Day: Brain Stew - Music Video
Movie Review - Parker
Over the last decade or so, Jason Statham has been making a bid to become the next big international action movie star and has demonstrated that he has most of what it takes to achieve that lofty goal: he has loads of charisma, a sly sense of humor and is one of the few people working in the genre today who can convincingly pull off fight scenes. The only thing that has kept him from becoming a full-fledged superstar is that while he has appeared in some hits (such as the "Transporter" and "Expendables" movies) and a few cult favorites (like the demented "Crank" films), he has yet to find that iconic role that would put him over the top like Clint Eastwood with "Dirty Harry" or Arnold Schwarzenegger with "The Terminator".
Unfortunately, his latest effort, 'Parker', is unlikely to do much to boost his career. It's another middling effort in which his undeniable presence is unable to elevate the usual mixture of convoluted plotting and grisly carnage. As bland and indistinct as its generic title, this is a film that seems to have been manufactured solely to play in mostly empty cinemas for a bleak midwinter week or two before evaporating from the marketplace and the mind.
In theory, signing on for 'Parker' must have seemed to Statham like a good idea at the time. The film is based on one of the books that the late, great crime novelist Donald E. Westlake wrote under the pseudonym of Richard Stark about the tough-as-nails criminal Parker, whose adventures previously appeared on the screen most famously in John Boorman's
classic 'Point Blank'.
Statham plays Parker, a master thief whose chief attributes are the code of ethics he lives by and a penchant for disguises. Our story begins as he and a group of fellow thieves (Michael Chiklis, Wendell Pierce, Clifton Collins Jr. and Micah A. Hauptman) are executing an elaborate heist at the Ohio State Fair. Perhaps not surprisingly, the intricately-plotted caper goes sideways due to the incompetence of one of his cohorts. When Parker refuses the gang's demand that he re-invest his share of the loot as seed money for another caper with a bigger payoff, they attack him and leave him for dead by the side of the road.
Parker manages to survive and after a little legwork learns that his former associates are in Palm Beach planning a new heist that, with its reliance on such items as booby-trapped speakers, scuba outfits and a fire truck, appears to be the most complex set of manoeuvres.
Parker follows them to Florida and begins doing surveillance in the guise of a rich Texan looking to buy a house in the same area. This puts him in contact with Leslie Rodgers (Lopez), an ambitious realtor who is swimming in debt, living with her overbearing mother (Patti LuPone). She twigs that Parker is not who he appears to be and wheedles her way into a small percentage of the prospectively ill-gotten gains. She begins to have second thoughts when she has to somehow conceal Parker bleeding in her bathroom after a brutal fight while a would-be policeman suitor is in the next room; that's Bobby Canavale in a role that looks to have been cut to ribbons in the editing room.
All of the ingredients are here for a sexy, dark-humored crime film along the lines of Steven Soderbergh's great "Out of Sight," but they never jell into anything coherent or satisfying. Outside of a few flashes of wit here and there, blessed reminders of Westlake's gifts as a writer, John J. McLaughlin's screenplay fails to lift the crime-drama cliches above the routine.
This is Hackford's his first foray into the action genre and it becomes clear why he has avoided it. The action scenes come across as flat, uninspired and often too grisly for their own good. Worst of all, the film is flat-out dull — everything seems to take three times longer than it should and lacks the tautness a film like this needs to succeed.
The best things about 'Parker' are the two lead actors. Although working with material that is lackluster even by his standards, Statham manages to demonstrate a commanding screen presence that cannot be dismissed. Opposite him, Lopez delivers one of her more convincing performances as a woman who knows she still has it, but who is also painfully aware that those days are coming to a close. This film may not contain the finest work from either star but at least they're making an effort, which is more than one can say about the rest of the picture. Statham can hope for better luck next time, or, well, there's always "Expendables 3."
Parker - Movie Trailer
Unfortunately, his latest effort, 'Parker', is unlikely to do much to boost his career. It's another middling effort in which his undeniable presence is unable to elevate the usual mixture of convoluted plotting and grisly carnage. As bland and indistinct as its generic title, this is a film that seems to have been manufactured solely to play in mostly empty cinemas for a bleak midwinter week or two before evaporating from the marketplace and the mind.
In theory, signing on for 'Parker' must have seemed to Statham like a good idea at the time. The film is based on one of the books that the late, great crime novelist Donald E. Westlake wrote under the pseudonym of Richard Stark about the tough-as-nails criminal Parker, whose adventures previously appeared on the screen most famously in John Boorman's
classic 'Point Blank'.
Statham plays Parker, a master thief whose chief attributes are the code of ethics he lives by and a penchant for disguises. Our story begins as he and a group of fellow thieves (Michael Chiklis, Wendell Pierce, Clifton Collins Jr. and Micah A. Hauptman) are executing an elaborate heist at the Ohio State Fair. Perhaps not surprisingly, the intricately-plotted caper goes sideways due to the incompetence of one of his cohorts. When Parker refuses the gang's demand that he re-invest his share of the loot as seed money for another caper with a bigger payoff, they attack him and leave him for dead by the side of the road.
Parker manages to survive and after a little legwork learns that his former associates are in Palm Beach planning a new heist that, with its reliance on such items as booby-trapped speakers, scuba outfits and a fire truck, appears to be the most complex set of manoeuvres.
Parker follows them to Florida and begins doing surveillance in the guise of a rich Texan looking to buy a house in the same area. This puts him in contact with Leslie Rodgers (Lopez), an ambitious realtor who is swimming in debt, living with her overbearing mother (Patti LuPone). She twigs that Parker is not who he appears to be and wheedles her way into a small percentage of the prospectively ill-gotten gains. She begins to have second thoughts when she has to somehow conceal Parker bleeding in her bathroom after a brutal fight while a would-be policeman suitor is in the next room; that's Bobby Canavale in a role that looks to have been cut to ribbons in the editing room.
All of the ingredients are here for a sexy, dark-humored crime film along the lines of Steven Soderbergh's great "Out of Sight," but they never jell into anything coherent or satisfying. Outside of a few flashes of wit here and there, blessed reminders of Westlake's gifts as a writer, John J. McLaughlin's screenplay fails to lift the crime-drama cliches above the routine.
This is Hackford's his first foray into the action genre and it becomes clear why he has avoided it. The action scenes come across as flat, uninspired and often too grisly for their own good. Worst of all, the film is flat-out dull — everything seems to take three times longer than it should and lacks the tautness a film like this needs to succeed.
The best things about 'Parker' are the two lead actors. Although working with material that is lackluster even by his standards, Statham manages to demonstrate a commanding screen presence that cannot be dismissed. Opposite him, Lopez delivers one of her more convincing performances as a woman who knows she still has it, but who is also painfully aware that those days are coming to a close. This film may not contain the finest work from either star but at least they're making an effort, which is more than one can say about the rest of the picture. Statham can hope for better luck next time, or, well, there's always "Expendables 3."
Parker - Movie Trailer
Thursday, 22 May 2014
Movie Review - The Wolf On Wall Street
Martin Scorsese's 'The Wolf of Wall Street' is shameless, exciting and exhausting, disgusting and illuminating, it's one of the most entertaining films ever made about loathsome men. Its star Leonardo DiCaprio has compared it to the story of the Roman emperor Caligula, and he's not far off the mark.
Adapted by Terence Winter from the memoir by stockbroker Jordan Belfort, who oozed his way into a fortune in the 1980s and '90s, this is an excessive film about excess, and a movie about appetites whose own appetite for compulsive pleasures seems bottomless. It runs three hours, and was reportedly cut down from four by Scorsese's regular editor Thelma Schoonmaker. It's a testament to Scorsese and Winter and their collaborators that one could imagine watching these cackling swines for five hours, or ten, while still finding them fascinating, and our own fascination with them disturbing. This is a reptilian brain movie. Every frame has scales.
The middle-class, Queens-raised Belfort tried and failed to establish himself on Wall Street in a more traditional way—we see his tutelage in the late '80s at a blue chip firm, under the wing of a grinning sleazeball played by Matthew McConaughey—but got laid off in the market crash of 1987. He reinvented himself on Long Island by taking over a penny stock boiler room and giving it an old money name, Stratton Oakmont, to gain the confidence of middle- and working-class investors. Per Wikipedia, at its peak, "the firm employed over 1000 stock brokers and was involved in stock issues totaling more than $1 billion, including an equity raising for footwear company Steve Madden Ltd." Belfort and his company specialised in 'pump and dump' operations: artificially blowing up the value of a nearly worthless stock, then selling it at a big profit, after which point the value drops and the investors lose their money. Belfort was indicted in 1998 for money laundering and securities fraud, spent nearly two years in federal prison and was ordered to pay back $110 million to investors he'd deceived.
Taking its cues from gangster pictures, 'Wolf On Wall Street' shows how Belfort rose from humble origins, becoming rich and notorious (the title comes from an unflattering magazine profile that caught the attention of federal prosecutors). This Robin Hood-in-reverse builds himself a team of merry men drawn from various corners of his life. All have been given nicknames: Robbie Feinberg, aka "Pinhead" (Brian Sacca), Alden Kupferberg, aka "Sea Otter" (Henry Zebrowski), the dreadfully-toupeed "Rugrat" Nicky Koskoff (P.J. Byrne), "The Depraved Chinaman" Chester Ming (Kenneth Choi), and Brad Bodnick (Shane Bernthal of "The Walking Dead"), a DeNiro-esque neighborhood hothead who's known as the Quaalude King of Bayside. His office enforcer is his volcanic dad (Rob Reiner), who screams about expenditures and workplace sleaze, but often seems to live vicariously through the trading floor's young wolves.
Belfort's right hand man Donnie Azoff (Jonah Hill) is perhaps even more conscienceless than Belfort: a hefty wiseass with gleaming choppers who quits his job at a diner after one conversation with the hero, joins his scheme, helps him launder money, and introduces him to crack, as if Belfort didn't have enough intoxicants in his system, on top of the adrenaline he generates by making deals and bedding every halfway attractive woman who crosses his path. As McConaughey's character tells Belfort early on, this subset of investing is so scummy that drugs are mandatory: "How the fuck else would you do this job?" At one point a broker declares that they're doing all that coke and all those Quaaludes and guzzling all that booze "in order to stimulate our freethinking ideas."
Belfort is married when the tale begins, to a good and respectable woman who doesn't approve of his financial shenanigans or chronic infidelity, but he soon throws her over for a blond and curvy trophy named Naomi LaPaglia (Australian actress Margot Robbie), then marries her and starts supporting her in the style to which they've both become accustomed. After a few years, Belfort is living in a mansion that another DiCaprio character, Jay Gatsby, might find gaudy, and buying a yacht, and helicoptering to and from meetings and parties while drugged out of his mind. Then a federal prosecutor named Patrick Denham (Kyle Chandler) enters the picture, sweating Belfort by confronting him on his own turf (including Belfort's yacht) and letting him brag on his own awesomeness until he hangs himself.
Imagine the last thirty minutes of "GoodFellas" stretched out to three hours. That's the pace of this movie, and the feel of it. It's one damned thing after another: stock fraud and money laundering; trips to and from Switzerland to deposit cash in banks (and give the increasingly wasted Belfort a chance to flirt with his wife's British aunt, played by "Absolutely Fabulous" costar Joanna Lumley); rock-and-pop driven montages with ostentatious film speed shifts (including a slow-motion Quaalude binge); and some daringly protracted and seemingly half-improvised dialogue scenes that feel like tiny one-act plays. The best of these is McConaughey's only long scene as Belfort's mentor Mark Hanna, who at one point thumps a drum pattern on his chest while rumble-singing a la Bobby McFerrin; this eventually becomes the anthem of Belfort's firm, and it's weirdly right, as it suggests a tribal war song for barbarians on permanent rampage.
As is often the case in Scorsese's films, 'Wolf On Wall Street' gives alpha male posturing the attraction-repulsion treatment, serving up the drugging and whoring and getting-over as both spectacle and cautionary tale. In his most exuberant performance DiCaprio plays Belfort as a pipsqueak Mussolini of the trading floor, a swaggering jock who pumps his guys up by calling them "killers" and "warriors" and attracts hungry, self-destructive women, partly via brashness and baby-faced good looks, but mostly by flashing the cash. The film lacks the mild distancing that Scorsese brought to "GoodFellas" and "Casino." The former contrasted Henry Hill's matter-of-fact narration with occasionally shocked reactions to bloodshed; "Casino" adopted a Stanley Kubrick-like chilly detachment, as if everyone involved were narrating from a cloud in Heaven or a pit in Hell. 'Wolf On Wall Street' is in the thick of things at all times, to suffocating effect, depriving the viewer of moral anchors.
This is not the same thing as saying that the film is amoral, though. It's not. It's disgusted by this story and these people and finds them grotesque, often filming them from distorted angles or in static wide shots that make them seem like well-dressed animals in lushly decorated terrariums.
You can tell how much Belfort cares about his people by the way his narration segues from an anecdote about a broker who fell into a spiral of misery and shame: "He got depressed and killed himself three years later," Belfort says over a photo of a corpse in a bathtub trailing blood from slit wrists. Then, without missing a beat, he says, "Anyway..." The brokers classify prostitutes by cost and attractiveness, referring to them as "blue chips, "NASDAQs" and "pink sheets" (or "skanks"); they're warm-blooded receptacles to be screwed and sent on their way, much like the firm's clients, including shoe mogul Steve Madden, whose deal Belfort describes as an oral rape. The directorial high point is a Belfort-Azoff Quaalude binge that spirals into comic madness, with Azoff blubbering and freaking out and stuffing his face and collapsing, and Belfort suffering paralysis during a panicked phone call about his money and then crawling towards his car like a nearly-roadkilled animal, one agonizing inch at a time.
These images of censure and humiliation, and there are a lot of them, including a gif-worthy moment of Belfort paying a prostitute to stick a lit candle in his bum—coexist with moments that get off on the men's howling and profit-making and chest-thumping. We're supposed to figure out how we feel about the mix of modes, and accept that if there were no appeal whatsoever to this kind of behavior, no one would indulge in it. This isn't wishy-washy. It's honest.
Scorsese and Winter never lose track of the bigger picture. In theory, the movie's subject is the Wall Street mentality, which is just a clean-scrubbed version of the gangster mentality showcased in Scorsese's "Mean Streets," "GoodFellas" and "Casino" (one could make a case that guys like Belfort are the ones who pushed the Vegas mob out of Vegas). 'Wolf On Wall Street', starts with a Fellini-like party on the floor of Belfort's firm, then freeze-frames on Belfort tossing a dwarf at a huge velcro target, literally and figuratively abusing the Little Guy. The traders get away with their abuse because most people don't see themselves as little guys, but as little guys who might some day become the big guy doing the tossing. "Socialism never took root in America," John Steinbeck wrote, "because the poor see themselves not as an exploited proletariat but as temporarily embarrassed millionaires.” Belfort chides the prosecutor Denham for living what Henry Hill would have called the goody-two-shoes life, and in a scene near the end, as Denham rides the subway home, we can see that what taunts the most. Everyone at Belfort's firm seems to have the same title: "senior vice-president." Everybody wants to rule the world.
But the film's vision goes beyond cultural anthropology and antihero worship. Its like a good many films by Scorsese—who overcame a cocaine problem in the early '80s—at its root, it's about addiction: a disease or condition that seizes hold of one's emotions and imagination, and makes it hard to picture any life but the one you're already in. Many people get a contact high from following the exploits of entrepreneurs, financiers, bankers, CEO and the like, and when such men (they're nearly always men) get busted for skirting or breaking laws, they root for them as if they were disreputable folk heroes, gangsters with fountain pens instead of guns—guys who, for all their selfishness and cruelty, are above the petty rules that constrict the rest of us. Such men are addicts, egged on by a cheering section of little guys who fantasize of being big. We enable them by reveling in their exploits or not paying close enough attention to their misdeeds, much less demanding reform of the laws they bend or ignore—laws that might have teeth if we hadn't allowed guys like Belfort (and his far more powerful role models) to legally bribe the United States legislative branch via the nonsensical "system" of campaign financing. After a certain number of decades, we should ask if the nonstop enabling of addicts like Belfort doesn't mean that, in some sense, their enablers are addicted, too—that they (we) are part of a perpetual-motion wheel that just keeps turning and turning. In the end 'Wolf On Wall Street' is not so much about one addict as it is about America's addiction to capitalist excess and the "He who dies with the most toys wins" mindset, which has proved as durable as the image of the snarling gangster taking what he likes when he feels like taking it.
Scorsese and Winter aren't shy about drawing connections between Belfort's crew and the thugs in Scorsese's mob pictures. Those mob films are addiction stories, too. Wolf of Wall Street' showcases Belfort Henry Hill-style, as if he were an addict touring the wreckage of his life in order to confess and seek forgiveness; but like a lot of addicts, as Belfort recounts the disasters he narrowly escaped, the lies he told and the lives he ruined, you can feel the buzz in his voice and the adrenaline burning in his veins. You can tell he misses his old life of big deals and money laundering and decadent parties, just as Hill missed busting heads, jacking trucks, and doing enough cocaine to make Scarface's head explode.
There will be a few points during 'Wolf On Wall Street' when you think, "These people are revolting, why am I tolerating this, much less getting a vicarious thrill from it?" At those moments, think about what the "it" refers to. It's not just these characters, and this setting, and this particular story. It's the world we live in. Men like Belfort represent,even as they're robbing us blind, they represent America, and on some level we must be OK with them representing America, otherwise we would have seen reforms in the late '80s or '90s or '00s that made it harder for men like Belfort to amass a fortune, or that at least quickly detected and harshly punished for their sins. Belfort was never punished on a level befitting the magnitude of pain he inflicted. According to federal prosecutors, he failed to abide by the terms of his 2003 restitution agreement. He's a motivational speaker now, and if you read interviews with him, or his memoir, it's obvious that he's not really sorry about anything but getting caught. We laugh at the movie, but guys like Belfort will never stop laughing at us.
The Wolf Of Wall Street - Movie Trailer
Adapted by Terence Winter from the memoir by stockbroker Jordan Belfort, who oozed his way into a fortune in the 1980s and '90s, this is an excessive film about excess, and a movie about appetites whose own appetite for compulsive pleasures seems bottomless. It runs three hours, and was reportedly cut down from four by Scorsese's regular editor Thelma Schoonmaker. It's a testament to Scorsese and Winter and their collaborators that one could imagine watching these cackling swines for five hours, or ten, while still finding them fascinating, and our own fascination with them disturbing. This is a reptilian brain movie. Every frame has scales.
The middle-class, Queens-raised Belfort tried and failed to establish himself on Wall Street in a more traditional way—we see his tutelage in the late '80s at a blue chip firm, under the wing of a grinning sleazeball played by Matthew McConaughey—but got laid off in the market crash of 1987. He reinvented himself on Long Island by taking over a penny stock boiler room and giving it an old money name, Stratton Oakmont, to gain the confidence of middle- and working-class investors. Per Wikipedia, at its peak, "the firm employed over 1000 stock brokers and was involved in stock issues totaling more than $1 billion, including an equity raising for footwear company Steve Madden Ltd." Belfort and his company specialised in 'pump and dump' operations: artificially blowing up the value of a nearly worthless stock, then selling it at a big profit, after which point the value drops and the investors lose their money. Belfort was indicted in 1998 for money laundering and securities fraud, spent nearly two years in federal prison and was ordered to pay back $110 million to investors he'd deceived.
Taking its cues from gangster pictures, 'Wolf On Wall Street' shows how Belfort rose from humble origins, becoming rich and notorious (the title comes from an unflattering magazine profile that caught the attention of federal prosecutors). This Robin Hood-in-reverse builds himself a team of merry men drawn from various corners of his life. All have been given nicknames: Robbie Feinberg, aka "Pinhead" (Brian Sacca), Alden Kupferberg, aka "Sea Otter" (Henry Zebrowski), the dreadfully-toupeed "Rugrat" Nicky Koskoff (P.J. Byrne), "The Depraved Chinaman" Chester Ming (Kenneth Choi), and Brad Bodnick (Shane Bernthal of "The Walking Dead"), a DeNiro-esque neighborhood hothead who's known as the Quaalude King of Bayside. His office enforcer is his volcanic dad (Rob Reiner), who screams about expenditures and workplace sleaze, but often seems to live vicariously through the trading floor's young wolves.
Belfort's right hand man Donnie Azoff (Jonah Hill) is perhaps even more conscienceless than Belfort: a hefty wiseass with gleaming choppers who quits his job at a diner after one conversation with the hero, joins his scheme, helps him launder money, and introduces him to crack, as if Belfort didn't have enough intoxicants in his system, on top of the adrenaline he generates by making deals and bedding every halfway attractive woman who crosses his path. As McConaughey's character tells Belfort early on, this subset of investing is so scummy that drugs are mandatory: "How the fuck else would you do this job?" At one point a broker declares that they're doing all that coke and all those Quaaludes and guzzling all that booze "in order to stimulate our freethinking ideas."
Belfort is married when the tale begins, to a good and respectable woman who doesn't approve of his financial shenanigans or chronic infidelity, but he soon throws her over for a blond and curvy trophy named Naomi LaPaglia (Australian actress Margot Robbie), then marries her and starts supporting her in the style to which they've both become accustomed. After a few years, Belfort is living in a mansion that another DiCaprio character, Jay Gatsby, might find gaudy, and buying a yacht, and helicoptering to and from meetings and parties while drugged out of his mind. Then a federal prosecutor named Patrick Denham (Kyle Chandler) enters the picture, sweating Belfort by confronting him on his own turf (including Belfort's yacht) and letting him brag on his own awesomeness until he hangs himself.
Imagine the last thirty minutes of "GoodFellas" stretched out to three hours. That's the pace of this movie, and the feel of it. It's one damned thing after another: stock fraud and money laundering; trips to and from Switzerland to deposit cash in banks (and give the increasingly wasted Belfort a chance to flirt with his wife's British aunt, played by "Absolutely Fabulous" costar Joanna Lumley); rock-and-pop driven montages with ostentatious film speed shifts (including a slow-motion Quaalude binge); and some daringly protracted and seemingly half-improvised dialogue scenes that feel like tiny one-act plays. The best of these is McConaughey's only long scene as Belfort's mentor Mark Hanna, who at one point thumps a drum pattern on his chest while rumble-singing a la Bobby McFerrin; this eventually becomes the anthem of Belfort's firm, and it's weirdly right, as it suggests a tribal war song for barbarians on permanent rampage.
As is often the case in Scorsese's films, 'Wolf On Wall Street' gives alpha male posturing the attraction-repulsion treatment, serving up the drugging and whoring and getting-over as both spectacle and cautionary tale. In his most exuberant performance DiCaprio plays Belfort as a pipsqueak Mussolini of the trading floor, a swaggering jock who pumps his guys up by calling them "killers" and "warriors" and attracts hungry, self-destructive women, partly via brashness and baby-faced good looks, but mostly by flashing the cash. The film lacks the mild distancing that Scorsese brought to "GoodFellas" and "Casino." The former contrasted Henry Hill's matter-of-fact narration with occasionally shocked reactions to bloodshed; "Casino" adopted a Stanley Kubrick-like chilly detachment, as if everyone involved were narrating from a cloud in Heaven or a pit in Hell. 'Wolf On Wall Street' is in the thick of things at all times, to suffocating effect, depriving the viewer of moral anchors.
This is not the same thing as saying that the film is amoral, though. It's not. It's disgusted by this story and these people and finds them grotesque, often filming them from distorted angles or in static wide shots that make them seem like well-dressed animals in lushly decorated terrariums.
You can tell how much Belfort cares about his people by the way his narration segues from an anecdote about a broker who fell into a spiral of misery and shame: "He got depressed and killed himself three years later," Belfort says over a photo of a corpse in a bathtub trailing blood from slit wrists. Then, without missing a beat, he says, "Anyway..." The brokers classify prostitutes by cost and attractiveness, referring to them as "blue chips, "NASDAQs" and "pink sheets" (or "skanks"); they're warm-blooded receptacles to be screwed and sent on their way, much like the firm's clients, including shoe mogul Steve Madden, whose deal Belfort describes as an oral rape. The directorial high point is a Belfort-Azoff Quaalude binge that spirals into comic madness, with Azoff blubbering and freaking out and stuffing his face and collapsing, and Belfort suffering paralysis during a panicked phone call about his money and then crawling towards his car like a nearly-roadkilled animal, one agonizing inch at a time.
These images of censure and humiliation, and there are a lot of them, including a gif-worthy moment of Belfort paying a prostitute to stick a lit candle in his bum—coexist with moments that get off on the men's howling and profit-making and chest-thumping. We're supposed to figure out how we feel about the mix of modes, and accept that if there were no appeal whatsoever to this kind of behavior, no one would indulge in it. This isn't wishy-washy. It's honest.
Scorsese and Winter never lose track of the bigger picture. In theory, the movie's subject is the Wall Street mentality, which is just a clean-scrubbed version of the gangster mentality showcased in Scorsese's "Mean Streets," "GoodFellas" and "Casino" (one could make a case that guys like Belfort are the ones who pushed the Vegas mob out of Vegas). 'Wolf On Wall Street', starts with a Fellini-like party on the floor of Belfort's firm, then freeze-frames on Belfort tossing a dwarf at a huge velcro target, literally and figuratively abusing the Little Guy. The traders get away with their abuse because most people don't see themselves as little guys, but as little guys who might some day become the big guy doing the tossing. "Socialism never took root in America," John Steinbeck wrote, "because the poor see themselves not as an exploited proletariat but as temporarily embarrassed millionaires.” Belfort chides the prosecutor Denham for living what Henry Hill would have called the goody-two-shoes life, and in a scene near the end, as Denham rides the subway home, we can see that what taunts the most. Everyone at Belfort's firm seems to have the same title: "senior vice-president." Everybody wants to rule the world.
But the film's vision goes beyond cultural anthropology and antihero worship. Its like a good many films by Scorsese—who overcame a cocaine problem in the early '80s—at its root, it's about addiction: a disease or condition that seizes hold of one's emotions and imagination, and makes it hard to picture any life but the one you're already in. Many people get a contact high from following the exploits of entrepreneurs, financiers, bankers, CEO and the like, and when such men (they're nearly always men) get busted for skirting or breaking laws, they root for them as if they were disreputable folk heroes, gangsters with fountain pens instead of guns—guys who, for all their selfishness and cruelty, are above the petty rules that constrict the rest of us. Such men are addicts, egged on by a cheering section of little guys who fantasize of being big. We enable them by reveling in their exploits or not paying close enough attention to their misdeeds, much less demanding reform of the laws they bend or ignore—laws that might have teeth if we hadn't allowed guys like Belfort (and his far more powerful role models) to legally bribe the United States legislative branch via the nonsensical "system" of campaign financing. After a certain number of decades, we should ask if the nonstop enabling of addicts like Belfort doesn't mean that, in some sense, their enablers are addicted, too—that they (we) are part of a perpetual-motion wheel that just keeps turning and turning. In the end 'Wolf On Wall Street' is not so much about one addict as it is about America's addiction to capitalist excess and the "He who dies with the most toys wins" mindset, which has proved as durable as the image of the snarling gangster taking what he likes when he feels like taking it.
Scorsese and Winter aren't shy about drawing connections between Belfort's crew and the thugs in Scorsese's mob pictures. Those mob films are addiction stories, too. Wolf of Wall Street' showcases Belfort Henry Hill-style, as if he were an addict touring the wreckage of his life in order to confess and seek forgiveness; but like a lot of addicts, as Belfort recounts the disasters he narrowly escaped, the lies he told and the lives he ruined, you can feel the buzz in his voice and the adrenaline burning in his veins. You can tell he misses his old life of big deals and money laundering and decadent parties, just as Hill missed busting heads, jacking trucks, and doing enough cocaine to make Scarface's head explode.
There will be a few points during 'Wolf On Wall Street' when you think, "These people are revolting, why am I tolerating this, much less getting a vicarious thrill from it?" At those moments, think about what the "it" refers to. It's not just these characters, and this setting, and this particular story. It's the world we live in. Men like Belfort represent,even as they're robbing us blind, they represent America, and on some level we must be OK with them representing America, otherwise we would have seen reforms in the late '80s or '90s or '00s that made it harder for men like Belfort to amass a fortune, or that at least quickly detected and harshly punished for their sins. Belfort was never punished on a level befitting the magnitude of pain he inflicted. According to federal prosecutors, he failed to abide by the terms of his 2003 restitution agreement. He's a motivational speaker now, and if you read interviews with him, or his memoir, it's obvious that he's not really sorry about anything but getting caught. We laugh at the movie, but guys like Belfort will never stop laughing at us.
The Wolf Of Wall Street - Movie Trailer
Tuesday, 20 May 2014
One Republic: Counting Stars - Song Meaning
I think this track was written about the life the songwriter was living at the time.
He's in a busy relationship where the both of them are so worried about the money, paying the bills and stuff, that they forget to simply live life and appreciate the things it offers, therefore,
"Lately I been, I been losing sleep
Dreaming 'bout the things that we could be
Baby I been, I been prayin' hard
Said no more counting dollars
We'll be counting stars
Yeah, we'll be counting stars"
He talks about the conduct people, including him, are living these days, not what they wish they could do, but what they are made to do, what they're forced to do. And it's probably about unnecessary work, rules and manners imposed by society.
"And I don't think the world is sold
I'm just doing what we're told"
Complementing the commentary above, he wants to free himself from those fake rules which are made only to keep people under control, under the 'normal' way of living.
"I, feel something so right
But doing the wrong thing
I, feel something so wrong
But doing the right thing"
In the verse "Everything that kills me makes me feel alive" he talks about drugs, and when I say drugs it's not only drinking and smoking, but it can be anything. For example, adrenaline, gambling, love, etc.
"Everything that drowns me makes me wanna fly". Here he talks about those things we are not allowed to do and because of that we are stirred up to do them. It's better because it's forbidden. Or when you want to prove something to someone who doesn't have faith in your capacity.
"Take that money and watch it burn
Sink in the river the lessons are learned"
In this part he says that the money he was referring to earlier will disappear quickly, it won't last forever, it's ephemeral. And you will truly learn the lesson when you go through a tough situation.
One Republic: Counting Stars - Music Video
He's in a busy relationship where the both of them are so worried about the money, paying the bills and stuff, that they forget to simply live life and appreciate the things it offers, therefore,
"Lately I been, I been losing sleep
Dreaming 'bout the things that we could be
Baby I been, I been prayin' hard
Said no more counting dollars
We'll be counting stars
Yeah, we'll be counting stars"
He talks about the conduct people, including him, are living these days, not what they wish they could do, but what they are made to do, what they're forced to do. And it's probably about unnecessary work, rules and manners imposed by society.
"And I don't think the world is sold
I'm just doing what we're told"
Complementing the commentary above, he wants to free himself from those fake rules which are made only to keep people under control, under the 'normal' way of living.
"I, feel something so right
But doing the wrong thing
I, feel something so wrong
But doing the right thing"
In the verse "Everything that kills me makes me feel alive" he talks about drugs, and when I say drugs it's not only drinking and smoking, but it can be anything. For example, adrenaline, gambling, love, etc.
"Everything that drowns me makes me wanna fly". Here he talks about those things we are not allowed to do and because of that we are stirred up to do them. It's better because it's forbidden. Or when you want to prove something to someone who doesn't have faith in your capacity.
"Take that money and watch it burn
Sink in the river the lessons are learned"
In this part he says that the money he was referring to earlier will disappear quickly, it won't last forever, it's ephemeral. And you will truly learn the lesson when you go through a tough situation.
One Republic: Counting Stars - Music Video
Movie Review - American Hustle
David O. Russell out-Scorseses Martin Scorsese with 'American Hustle', a '70s crime romp that is ridiculously entertaining in all the best ways. 'American Hustle' is apparently more thrilling and satisfying experience than Scorsese's latest, the upcoming 'The Wolf of Wall Street', (I got this yesterday so will review soon) which similarly was inspired by the true story of an irrepressible financial huckster. The unreliable narration and urgent zooms, the 1970s milieu of flashily dressed scammers and mobsters, the carefully chosen pop songs underscoring key emotional moments: all those recognizably Scorcesean signatures are there, yet Russell infuses them with his unique brand of insanity.
This director has always has shown a fondness for characters who are on the brink of imploding or exploding, and with 'American Hustle' he's assembled his own posse of stars from his last two films to serve as his personal acting troupe: Christian Bale and Amy Adams from 2011's 'The Fighter' and Bradley Cooper and Jennifer Lawrence from 'Silver Linings Playbook'. But he's so skilled with these actors (despite reports of his exhausting methods of motivation on set), he not only finds a side to them we haven't seen in his previous films, he finds a side we haven't seen, period.
Co-written with Eric Singer, Russell's latest is based on the Abscam sting operation of the late '70s and early '80s, in which a con artist helped the FBI catch members of Congress taking bribes. "Some of this actually happened," a title card playfully informs us at the film's start, before Russell introduces us to the glorious sight of Bale's paunchy Irving Rosenfeld plastering a horrendous hairpiece onto his shiny dome. To play the swaggering Rosenfeld, the owner of a small chain of Long Island dry cleaners who makes his real money through fake art and fraudulent personal loans, Bale seemingly downed all that food he denied himself while shooting 'The Machinist' and 'Rescue Dawn'.
He meets his match at a pool party in Adams' Sydney Prosser, a scrappy young woman from Albuquerque with dreams of reinventing herself in high style. It's Sydney's idea to don a fake accent and take on the alter ego of the posh Lady Edith, a Londoner with elite banking connections—and in doing so, she kicks Rosenfeld's cons into high gear. (While all the choices from costume designer Michael Wilkinson are spot-on in their tacky period allure, Adams' ensembles are to-die-for: a plunging and sparkling array of sexy little numbers that help the actress assert her untapped va-va-voominess).
Irving and Sydney quickly become partners in crime and love—but wait. Irving has a young son, and a wife: Lawrence's needy, vulnerable and spectacularly passive-aggressive Rosalyn (Lawrence). With her fake tan, high hair and vicious nails, Rosalyn is a force of nature. She knows just enough to be dangerous, which may make her an even bigger threat to Irving and Sydney than the federal authorities who are closing in on their operation. Her complexity and unpredictability make her fascinating to watch—she's just unhinged enough to think she's the voice of reason—and Lawrence is a radiant scene-stealer. Regardless of genre, it seems there's nothing this actress can't do.
Cooper's Richie DiMaso is a hotheaded (and tightly permed) FBI agent who's eager to make a name for himself with a big bust. (Seriously, the hair is awful, almost as bad as Bale's; Russell even goes so far as to show Cooper wearing the itty-bitty curlers at the kitchen table). Richie exposes the lovers' scheme and forces them to help him net even bigger fish to get themselves out of trouble. But he also finds himself falling for the sexy Sydney—er, Lady Edith—and she may feel the same way. Or does she? Part of the fun of 'American Hustle' is that it keeps us constantly on our toes wondering who's scamming whom.
Russell doesn't judge any of these people for their idiocy or their aspirations. He revels in their quirks. The fact that Rosalyn is constantly on the verge of burning the house down, for example, ends up being endearing in Russell's hands. (Microwave ovens aren't for everyone.) We even end up feeling sympathy for Jeremy Renner as crooked Camden, N.J., Mayor Carmine Polito. He's a criminal, too: He's on the take and coaxes more powerful politicians to join him, all in the name of rejuvenating Atlantic City. Yet Renner makes us feel this gregarious family man's generosity, and the bromance that forms between him and Bale's character is actually sweet lol.
Russell's film is big and big-hearted and more than a little messy, but that's due to the over-the-top characters, their insatiable greed and their brazen schemes. Sure, it looks like the cast went nuts at a Goodwill store and splurged on the grooviest threads they could find for an elaborate game of dress-up, but the clothes more than just a source of laughs: they're a reflection of their characters' ambition, a projection of their glittering notions of the American dream.
The film is probably also a tad overlong, but it's a blast to hang out with these people, and Russell creates such an infectiously zany vibe around them that if even you notice the running time, you probably won't mind. For all its brashness and big personality, 'American Hustle' is a character study at its core—an exploration of dissatisfaction and drive, and the lengths to which we're willing to go for that elusive thing known as a better life.
American Hustle - Movie Trailer
This director has always has shown a fondness for characters who are on the brink of imploding or exploding, and with 'American Hustle' he's assembled his own posse of stars from his last two films to serve as his personal acting troupe: Christian Bale and Amy Adams from 2011's 'The Fighter' and Bradley Cooper and Jennifer Lawrence from 'Silver Linings Playbook'. But he's so skilled with these actors (despite reports of his exhausting methods of motivation on set), he not only finds a side to them we haven't seen in his previous films, he finds a side we haven't seen, period.
Co-written with Eric Singer, Russell's latest is based on the Abscam sting operation of the late '70s and early '80s, in which a con artist helped the FBI catch members of Congress taking bribes. "Some of this actually happened," a title card playfully informs us at the film's start, before Russell introduces us to the glorious sight of Bale's paunchy Irving Rosenfeld plastering a horrendous hairpiece onto his shiny dome. To play the swaggering Rosenfeld, the owner of a small chain of Long Island dry cleaners who makes his real money through fake art and fraudulent personal loans, Bale seemingly downed all that food he denied himself while shooting 'The Machinist' and 'Rescue Dawn'.
He meets his match at a pool party in Adams' Sydney Prosser, a scrappy young woman from Albuquerque with dreams of reinventing herself in high style. It's Sydney's idea to don a fake accent and take on the alter ego of the posh Lady Edith, a Londoner with elite banking connections—and in doing so, she kicks Rosenfeld's cons into high gear. (While all the choices from costume designer Michael Wilkinson are spot-on in their tacky period allure, Adams' ensembles are to-die-for: a plunging and sparkling array of sexy little numbers that help the actress assert her untapped va-va-voominess).
Irving and Sydney quickly become partners in crime and love—but wait. Irving has a young son, and a wife: Lawrence's needy, vulnerable and spectacularly passive-aggressive Rosalyn (Lawrence). With her fake tan, high hair and vicious nails, Rosalyn is a force of nature. She knows just enough to be dangerous, which may make her an even bigger threat to Irving and Sydney than the federal authorities who are closing in on their operation. Her complexity and unpredictability make her fascinating to watch—she's just unhinged enough to think she's the voice of reason—and Lawrence is a radiant scene-stealer. Regardless of genre, it seems there's nothing this actress can't do.
Cooper's Richie DiMaso is a hotheaded (and tightly permed) FBI agent who's eager to make a name for himself with a big bust. (Seriously, the hair is awful, almost as bad as Bale's; Russell even goes so far as to show Cooper wearing the itty-bitty curlers at the kitchen table). Richie exposes the lovers' scheme and forces them to help him net even bigger fish to get themselves out of trouble. But he also finds himself falling for the sexy Sydney—er, Lady Edith—and she may feel the same way. Or does she? Part of the fun of 'American Hustle' is that it keeps us constantly on our toes wondering who's scamming whom.
Russell doesn't judge any of these people for their idiocy or their aspirations. He revels in their quirks. The fact that Rosalyn is constantly on the verge of burning the house down, for example, ends up being endearing in Russell's hands. (Microwave ovens aren't for everyone.) We even end up feeling sympathy for Jeremy Renner as crooked Camden, N.J., Mayor Carmine Polito. He's a criminal, too: He's on the take and coaxes more powerful politicians to join him, all in the name of rejuvenating Atlantic City. Yet Renner makes us feel this gregarious family man's generosity, and the bromance that forms between him and Bale's character is actually sweet lol.
Russell's film is big and big-hearted and more than a little messy, but that's due to the over-the-top characters, their insatiable greed and their brazen schemes. Sure, it looks like the cast went nuts at a Goodwill store and splurged on the grooviest threads they could find for an elaborate game of dress-up, but the clothes more than just a source of laughs: they're a reflection of their characters' ambition, a projection of their glittering notions of the American dream.
The film is probably also a tad overlong, but it's a blast to hang out with these people, and Russell creates such an infectiously zany vibe around them that if even you notice the running time, you probably won't mind. For all its brashness and big personality, 'American Hustle' is a character study at its core—an exploration of dissatisfaction and drive, and the lengths to which we're willing to go for that elusive thing known as a better life.
American Hustle - Movie Trailer
Movie Review - Friday The 13th Part IV
This is the one that comes to everyone’s mind when you ask them which is your favourite Friday the 13th. While I’m partial to part 3 for its 3d effects this really is the best entry in the whole series. Why you ask? I don’t know if I have enough room to get to it all.
First and foremost, for me the one factor that has put this way over the top for has been the inclusion of Tom Savini back into the series. It would only make sense that the man who essentially created Jason was brought back to kill him off. Tom is at the peak of his powers in 'The Final Chapter'. While yes as always he’s limited by the films budget, it’s a joy to watch the master work his magic. You get some great gags like several knifed torsos, ripped off heads, a meat cleaver to Crispin Glover’s face.
Savini also breaths some fresh air into Jason as he once again tweaks his look. Jason now looks like some sort of troll or monster, much more bestial as compared to his earlier looks but the hockey mask is still there.
Filling Steve Miner’s large shoes is Joseph Zito who at the time was fresh off the highly under rated “Prowler”. Zito brings a fast paced exploitation style the series was beginning to lack. The tongue is firmly is cheek and they never forget why the audience is really there; they want to watch Jason kill people. The only downside to Zito is there are clearly a few moments where they could have just cut a scene out. In particular the death of Gordon the dog, the scene it filmed and cut so poorly you’re never sure if the dog is thrown from the window by Jason or he just kills himself.
The acting is also kicked up a few notches by the inclusion of the eccentric Crispin Glover. While his performance is nothing to write home to the academy about you can defiantly tell he’s on a level the others in this aren’t. The only person that maybe holds a candle to Crispin’s manic performance as Jimbo in 'The Final Chapter' has to be a 12 year old Corey Feldman and that’s more on the fact he’s “fucking Corey Feldman” and not a great actor. You can clearly tell there are moments all over the movie where Crispin goes off the script and just begins to ad lib his character, none more evident than his infamous dance number as seen below. Seriously either the director is blind or they gave up trying to reign in Crispin and gave into his interpretive dance demands.
Apparently the original song was an AC DC tune but the producers went with Lion’s Love is a Lie instead; if Crispin is any indicator they used the soundtrack from cats. Also why does every fucking Friday have a character that clearly no one would be friends with hanging around? Seriously what the hell is wrong with Jimbo?
'The Final Chapter' is also the first time in the Friday universe where someone proactively does something about Jason. Not only do you have Rob actively hunting Jason down for killing his sister, you also have Trish and Tommy Jarvis beating the hell out of Jason every second they get. By this point in the series you really begin to wonder why no one tried to stand up to Jason instead of just running, well it’s nice to see some one finally doing something even if it does little to actually stop Jason. It’s kind of ironic that the one to finally bring down Jason is a 12 year old boy.
Friday the 13th part 4 the final chapter is by and far the best entry in the series and if you have to watch just one, watch this one.
Friday The 13th Part IV - Movie Trailer
Tuesday, 13 May 2014
Movie Review - The Expendables 2
Saying I love the first Expendables movie is like saying that its body count is a little high. Yet despite my enthusiasm for both its execution and concept, even I couldn’t admit that it was perfect. Sure, it contained all the right elements, including the long-awaited moment when Stallone, Willis and Schwarzenegger finally appeared on screen together, but it struggled a little under the weight of expectation.
If you’ve seen The Expendables documentary, Inferno, on its Blu-ray, you’ll appreciate that Stallone almost killed himself trying to get it made, while both starring and directing. My hopes were high, then, that by handing over directorial responsibilities to Simon West (Con Air), The Expendables 2 would surpass the original. What I could never have predicted was how superior Expendables 2 would be in every single way.
It’s bigger, better and bloodier, even nailing the humour this time. From start to finish it’s a joy to behold, especially as the much-needed sense of the ridiculous that permeated West’s Con Air is present throughout.
I’m used to action movies starting with bombastic openings - after all, anyone who’s grown up with James Bond simply expects such things - but the opening scene for The Expendables 2 is excellent. If ever there were doubts that the level of violence would drop with the addition of Chuck Norris, then those are soon assuaged in seconds, as Stallone and the gang decimate an entire army with guns, knives and Jet Li.
If you were one of those people who delighted in the explosive pay offs in Rambo 4, then be prepared for the entirety of that film to be surpassed in the first ten minutes of Expendables 2. It’s as if the film’s mission is to build a higher amount of exploded bodies than any of the cast's previous movies.
Expendables 2 is relentless in pace, with no time lost to anything other than setting up a new threat and a couple of new additions to the team. And when there’s finally a momentary ceasefire in the action, the comedy prevails. Every one of the returning cast members seem so much more relaxed, as they set about ridiculing each other, lending a much greater sense of camaraderie to the team, from Toll Road’s ears, to Christmas’ ego and Gunnar’s pulling technique.
It’s an inspired choice to make Gunnar a more comedic foil, with Dolph Lundgren eating up his chances to play for laughs – his seduction face has to be seen to be believed, though it’s an image that no amount of mental scrubbing can remove.
Thankfully, in the midst of the chaos both Stallone’s Barney Ross and Statham’s Lee Christmas still get a few scenes together, which were a definite highlight of the first film, and their relationship combining brothers in blood with a father/son dynamic provides a solid core for the film and a lot of the humour. Their reversion to an old ‘classic’ style of interrogation is a highpoint. Christmas’ love life is also still a mere set up for ribbing and jokes.
Nan Yu, by contrast, as Maggie, fares a lot better. Despite having a character one sheet released, Yu sadly seems to be absent from the final poster line up in order to make way for the bigger names, which I guess makes sense from an advertising point of view, but is in no way representative of her role. She makes a great addition to the team, quietly dispelling any fears of becoming a token female with enough verbal and physical sparring to stand on level pegging. I’m assuming her link with Dolph Lundgren in Diamond Dogs put her on the radar, and rightly so, but I’m still hopeful that the likes of Cynthia Rothrock (who’s just recently returned to acting) and Gina Carano will even the sexes at some point in another sequel.
I did have concerns that, with Expendables 2’s increased line up, the film would become cluttered and unfocused, but the use of every major new name was shrewdly done for maximum effect, and it worked. I won’t spoil anything here but everyone was used very, very well. I felt sorry for Chuck Norris, though, as it did appear that he wasn’t in on the joke, but that’s no bad thing.
Reprising his role as Church, Bruce Willis is still effortlessly cool, and still steals every scene he’s in. His part in the story's well reasoned, and his character is quite the shit, which is by far the best way to exploit Willis’ sly charm and sarcastic nature.
Now, I have a confession to make but if there was a weak point in the film, it was Arnold Schwarzenegger. There, I said it.
I was absolutely thrilled to see him back where he belongs, but his absence from the big screen does seem to have made him a little rusty (see my review of The Last Stand), and his part doesn’t help matters. His character, Trench, has dialogue that's little more than self-referential quips, something he once excelled at, and some, not all, come off as a bit forced. Maybe it’s abandonment issues on my part, but there’s still only so many ‘I’ll be back’ jokes that can be made in the space of 102 minutes.
Then we come to Jean Claude Van Damme. He’s an actor that I’ve stood by since the beginning, so it was a crushing disappointment when he turned down Stallone’s offer of a part in the first film. It turns out it was the wisest decision Van Damme could’ve made, since the subtly-named Jean Vilain provides him with a plum role here - JCVD burns up the screen in what is arguably a career best performance.
The rivalry shared by Stallone and Van Damme in real life doesn’t just stop at name calling. The tension between them is tangible, and when the inevitable time comes for a face off, things snap in the most brutal and exhilarating way.
I grew up at a time where action movie franchises spawned sequels on the straight-to-video market, mostly without their original stars (just look at JCVD’s own early vehicles such as Bloodsport, Kickboxer and Cyborg) with even the bigger franchises such as Lethal Weapon, Rambo and Beverly Hills Cop deteriorating over the course of several films. This makes The Expendables 2 an anomaly in the best possible way.
It’s hysterical, explosively violent, full of references to its cast’s work (and even real life experiences) and it's all handled exceptionally well by Simon West, a director who’s already given us one excellent action movie in Con Air. With The Expendables 2, he's delivered again: it's a rollicking action movie, one of the most downright enjoyable of recent times. And, for me, The Expendables 3 can't come quickly enough...
The Expendables 2 - Movie Trailer
If you’ve seen The Expendables documentary, Inferno, on its Blu-ray, you’ll appreciate that Stallone almost killed himself trying to get it made, while both starring and directing. My hopes were high, then, that by handing over directorial responsibilities to Simon West (Con Air), The Expendables 2 would surpass the original. What I could never have predicted was how superior Expendables 2 would be in every single way.
It’s bigger, better and bloodier, even nailing the humour this time. From start to finish it’s a joy to behold, especially as the much-needed sense of the ridiculous that permeated West’s Con Air is present throughout.
I’m used to action movies starting with bombastic openings - after all, anyone who’s grown up with James Bond simply expects such things - but the opening scene for The Expendables 2 is excellent. If ever there were doubts that the level of violence would drop with the addition of Chuck Norris, then those are soon assuaged in seconds, as Stallone and the gang decimate an entire army with guns, knives and Jet Li.
If you were one of those people who delighted in the explosive pay offs in Rambo 4, then be prepared for the entirety of that film to be surpassed in the first ten minutes of Expendables 2. It’s as if the film’s mission is to build a higher amount of exploded bodies than any of the cast's previous movies.
Expendables 2 is relentless in pace, with no time lost to anything other than setting up a new threat and a couple of new additions to the team. And when there’s finally a momentary ceasefire in the action, the comedy prevails. Every one of the returning cast members seem so much more relaxed, as they set about ridiculing each other, lending a much greater sense of camaraderie to the team, from Toll Road’s ears, to Christmas’ ego and Gunnar’s pulling technique.
It’s an inspired choice to make Gunnar a more comedic foil, with Dolph Lundgren eating up his chances to play for laughs – his seduction face has to be seen to be believed, though it’s an image that no amount of mental scrubbing can remove.
Thankfully, in the midst of the chaos both Stallone’s Barney Ross and Statham’s Lee Christmas still get a few scenes together, which were a definite highlight of the first film, and their relationship combining brothers in blood with a father/son dynamic provides a solid core for the film and a lot of the humour. Their reversion to an old ‘classic’ style of interrogation is a highpoint. Christmas’ love life is also still a mere set up for ribbing and jokes.
Nan Yu, by contrast, as Maggie, fares a lot better. Despite having a character one sheet released, Yu sadly seems to be absent from the final poster line up in order to make way for the bigger names, which I guess makes sense from an advertising point of view, but is in no way representative of her role. She makes a great addition to the team, quietly dispelling any fears of becoming a token female with enough verbal and physical sparring to stand on level pegging. I’m assuming her link with Dolph Lundgren in Diamond Dogs put her on the radar, and rightly so, but I’m still hopeful that the likes of Cynthia Rothrock (who’s just recently returned to acting) and Gina Carano will even the sexes at some point in another sequel.
I did have concerns that, with Expendables 2’s increased line up, the film would become cluttered and unfocused, but the use of every major new name was shrewdly done for maximum effect, and it worked. I won’t spoil anything here but everyone was used very, very well. I felt sorry for Chuck Norris, though, as it did appear that he wasn’t in on the joke, but that’s no bad thing.
Reprising his role as Church, Bruce Willis is still effortlessly cool, and still steals every scene he’s in. His part in the story's well reasoned, and his character is quite the shit, which is by far the best way to exploit Willis’ sly charm and sarcastic nature.
Now, I have a confession to make but if there was a weak point in the film, it was Arnold Schwarzenegger. There, I said it.
I was absolutely thrilled to see him back where he belongs, but his absence from the big screen does seem to have made him a little rusty (see my review of The Last Stand), and his part doesn’t help matters. His character, Trench, has dialogue that's little more than self-referential quips, something he once excelled at, and some, not all, come off as a bit forced. Maybe it’s abandonment issues on my part, but there’s still only so many ‘I’ll be back’ jokes that can be made in the space of 102 minutes.
Then we come to Jean Claude Van Damme. He’s an actor that I’ve stood by since the beginning, so it was a crushing disappointment when he turned down Stallone’s offer of a part in the first film. It turns out it was the wisest decision Van Damme could’ve made, since the subtly-named Jean Vilain provides him with a plum role here - JCVD burns up the screen in what is arguably a career best performance.
The rivalry shared by Stallone and Van Damme in real life doesn’t just stop at name calling. The tension between them is tangible, and when the inevitable time comes for a face off, things snap in the most brutal and exhilarating way.
I grew up at a time where action movie franchises spawned sequels on the straight-to-video market, mostly without their original stars (just look at JCVD’s own early vehicles such as Bloodsport, Kickboxer and Cyborg) with even the bigger franchises such as Lethal Weapon, Rambo and Beverly Hills Cop deteriorating over the course of several films. This makes The Expendables 2 an anomaly in the best possible way.
It’s hysterical, explosively violent, full of references to its cast’s work (and even real life experiences) and it's all handled exceptionally well by Simon West, a director who’s already given us one excellent action movie in Con Air. With The Expendables 2, he's delivered again: it's a rollicking action movie, one of the most downright enjoyable of recent times. And, for me, The Expendables 3 can't come quickly enough...
The Expendables 2 - Movie Trailer
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