End of a day

Ayrton Senna once said that he felt that "we are all seeking emotions".

This evening as I prepared dinner, I listened to All of this and Nothing by the Psychedelic Furs. Normally I would have Channel 4 News on. Actually it was on, but the Furs provided the soundtrack. Can I suggest that if you would like to view current affairs from a tangential angle that you try listening to some of your favourite music whilst watching the news. There was a report about the relationship between China and Japan with footage of war, as well as statesman doing what they do, (I don't know very much about him, but as premiers go, I would have to say that Mr Koizumi, the previous Japanese Prime Minister was a cool one). Anyway, songs that move you, played over footage of people killing or getting one over on each other, move you more, take it from me.

The fact that I spent most of the day unblocking a drain might be relevant and my tuna with ginger, spring onions and teryaki sauce was delicious in case you were wondering.

Brew hah hah

One morning last week I woke quite early and decided to have a cup of tea. As the kettle warmed up on the stove, I considered the day ahead whilst dangerously multitasking, getting the tea bag out of the cupdboard, milk from the fridge and so on. The kettle was almost ready when I was suddenly aware of a big flame on my right hand side and quite a bit of smoke. My dressing gown was on fire. One acts quickly in these situations and very quickly I was doing my naked version of the hakka on top of the combustible garment. Gemma arrived on the scene concerned that a "girl had broken in" on account of the scream that had woken her.

There seems to be an elemental pattern to my early morning traumas, I might be due to wake up spattered with mud.

Butterfly effect

A few moments ago I was to be found in the Murasaki Restaurant in the Seven Dials area of Brighton enjoying a Shogiyaki Don and a green tea. However, things might have been very different.

Last night I was rudely awoken by a the burglar alarm of a nearby house. I trust that nothing was in fact stolen except for a few hours of the collective sleep of a number of the inhabitants of the Clifton Hill conseravation area. On consulting my trusty alarm clock I discovered that this was occurring at about 12.30am. An hour or so later having tossed and turned I rose to have a cup of tea and as it transpired four rice cakes topped with Green and Black's chocolate spread. This was my first mistake; I believe the potent dose of refined sugar did not encourage my body to lapse back into unconsciousness, especially with a slug of classic boxing highlights mixed in for good measure. At about 4am I clambered back into bed but didn't manage to string together more than an hour or so of slumber at a time before getting up at about 7.

I was on the back foot slightly this morning, as a man was coming to my house at nine to make a hole in the ceiling in the hall, for the purpose of creating access to the roof space. This was a disruptive process, so much so that I had to leave the house. By midday (having visited Waterstones and Fopp) I was a bit cold and hungry and buckled quite easily under the influence of my own persuasive powers, retiring to the aforementioned Japanese cafe to seek solace and nourishment.

Whilst there I decided that I might as well investigate the possibility of visiting Japan later in the year for a holiday, something I have thought about for a number of years. The waitress was unable to share very much in the way of tips however as her English I find, isn't very well tuned to the western ear, there were some acutely embarrassing moments to go along with my pork and pickled vegetables.

But I was not put off and it would appear that burglar alarm plus loft hatch leads to Kyoto curiosity. To be continued.....

.....incredibly benevolent force

I am supine on the floor, I feel heavy, I can smell burning sage and there is the slightly acrid taste of osha root in my mouth. Soon however, I am floating way above the earth, in space. In due course I am confronted by a dark, perfectly shaped oblong obelisk which has emerged from nowhere. It is hard-looking, wet; water runs down its surface, it is difficult to guage its size but it is probably about ten or twelve feet tall. It is similar to the icon which features in 2001 A Space Odessey.

A beautiful woman emerges from the monolith, she has long dark hair and looks like she knows everything. There is calm everywhere. She says nothing but from her look, I know there is no point in worrying about anything, ever, because I am part of something I don't begin to understand. I feel grateful but whilst I like the idea that I have been singled out, I suspect that I have been given this gift because I need it.

Death.......it's the future

This weekend's dvds were V for Vendetta and The Death of Mr Lazarescu. The former is the dystopic Wachowski Brothers (of the Matrix fame) thriller featuring a highly cheesed-off man called "V" who, dressed in a Guy Fawkes mask throughout, makes it his business to do a bit of serious boat-rocking in the dictator-led Britain of the near future.

The second is the Romanian film which won the BBC4 World Cinema award earlier this year. It would be hard to find two films which contrast in style more, as this film has an almost documentary feel, hand held cameras and a budget that probably wouldn't buy you a nice coat. Mr Lazarescu is a man in his sixties, living in a cold, filthy and anonymous apartment in Bucharest, he is not feeling well and decides to try to do something about it, initially ringing the doctor before knocking on the door of his neighbours across the landing. Slowly he gets himself nearer and nearer to a diagnosis and potential treatment. What links his interactions with the various health professionals he encounters as he tours the city's hospitals throughout the night, in the back of an ambulance, is the lack of respect he is shown, because he smells of alcohol, but also because he is old and increasingly unable to converse with anyone (due to his condition). For a long time it is only the paramedic who first arrives at his cat infested flat who fights his corner, after that.........

Meanwhile back on a set bedecked with beautiful scenery and featuring the beautiful Natalie Portman we are in full on comic book, surrealist, multi-million dollar budget familiarity. Ms Portman plays Evey Hammond, a secretary at the BTN (British TV Network) who for one reason or another finds herself aiding and abetting the enigmatic Mr V. I am not sure if it is because it is set in London but there is a bit of an "episode of the Bill" feeling about some of it. That aside, just as the Matrix does, it succeeds most effectively in getting you thinking about the human condition, particularly with regard to an increasingly controlled post 9/11 world. Within the people-power theme, there is a sub plot revealing how Evey experiences the liberation that comes with losing the fear of death. This is my favourite part of the film, and not just because NP gets her head shaved.

So there we have it, the problem is that we spend our lives under the shadow of death, our decisions hampered by it, but at the same time, in denial of it. Then, when it looms on the horizon, despite its inevitability, there are often only scant preparations made which mean that you are relieved of your dignity well in time to make you last days miserable.

There is humour in both these films. I am surprized by how my attention was held for two and a half hours of Mr Lazarescu's death; mesmeric and revealing. V for Vendetta is high paced and full of philosophy, too much for one sitting perhaps, there are a lot of words; "verily this vichy soise of verbage is most verbose" the main protagonist admits at one point. Not one to watch with someone who is alergic to aliteration.

The Death of Mr Lazarescu****
V for Vendetta****

American Beauty *****

Before I get into things I wish to place a request with the cosmic ordering system that I can meet and have a chat with Alan Ball, the writer of this film......thanks.

Lester Burnham, (Kevin Spacey) is 42 and entering a bit of a mid life crisis. The wheels have come off, his job has no meaning for him, his wife Carolyn, (Annette Bening) is on the brink of an affair and his daughter Jane, (Thora Birch) has no respect for him. Now watch what happens and how it affects him and his family and his new neighbours, the Fitzs.

This is a spectacular piece of work in regards to just about any aspect of film making that you might wish to measure. But as is often the way, it comes down to a couple of amazing moments which the whole films hangs on; in this case speeches by Lester's drug toting young neighbour Ricky Fitz, and towards the end of the film by Lester himself, elements of which have been borrowed from each other. The first takes place whilst Ricky shows Jane "the most beautiful thing he has ever filmed."

"It was one of those days when it's a minute away from snowing and there's this electricity in the air, you can almost hear it. And this bag was just, dancing with me. Like a little kid begging me to play with it. For fifteen minutes. And that's the day I realized that there was this entire life behind things, and this incredibly benevolent force, that wanted me to know there was no reason to be afraid, ever. Video's a poor excuse, I know. But it helps me remember... I need to remember... Sometimes there's so much beauty in the world I feel like I can't take it, like my heart's going to cave in".

There is much iconography in this movie. Hands feature a lot, as well as reflections and mirrors and confined spaces. Lester is seeking to escape from his restricted life, but not to a place of irresponsibility, to a place where he can be himself.

This is a beautifully realized film with fantastic performances, Anette Bening is scarily effective, Mena Suvari who plays Jane's friend and the subject of Lester's infatuation is mesmerising, there is great imagery and brilliantly chosen music but above all, I love this film because I once had a similar experience to the one Ricky describes and as he said himself "it helps me remember".

Collateral *****

Film 4 showed this movie last night. I am a fan of Michael Mann but whilst this is every bit as stylish as Heat, it hangs together better as a complete entity.

Tom Cruise (who I am not usually bothered about) plays a hitman, Vincent, in town for the night to do a spot of contract killing. Jamie Foxx is Max, the unwitting soul recruited to drive Vincent around for the duration. Max is a disenfranchised, nice guy, taxi driver who starts to realise that, up against Vincent and perhaps in the rest of his life he needs to take a stand. Vincent, on the other hand, is surfing along on the edge of his confidence and power, doing "what he does for a living......indifferent", causing havoc.

Sometimes aspects of a character in a film remind me of people I know and this for me is a sign of a great performance. Rarely has it happened to the extent that it does in the case of Vincent (not sure what this says about people I know).

This a black comedy; the bullying of Max by Vincent generates much tension and even amusement, odd pairings in other films like Midnight Run and Planes Trains and Automobiles come to mind. The imdb page for the film features much of Vincent's wisdom and ascerbic one-liners.

One dead body already in the boot of the car, two cops approach, "Don't let me get backed into a corner, you don't have enough trunk space", he warns Max.

Australian GP

My predictions seem to be on target post this first race of the season........(click here for more).

Nice Truck

Captured in its natural habitat in rural Alberta last year, I was pleased with how close I was able to get to this one.

Le Conseguenze dell'amore ****

I spoke to someone about this film over the weekend. They said that they couldn't understand what motivated the main character to do what he did.

In the Scritti Politti song, the Sweetest Girl, there is the line "she left because she understood the value of defiance".

In this atmospheric and stylised but handsome film we learn about Titto, an immaculately dressed, middle-aged, lonely guy who lives in a smart hotel by a lake in Switzerland and is suffering from the consequences of decisions he has made and circumstances he has found himself in, which appear to have trapped him.

Much of the interpretation is left to the viewer but whilst decisions have consequences and whilst they may have a permanent impact, defiance does have an intrinsic value as does doing things for reasons of your own.

La Dolce Vita*****

From the opening shot of the helicopter with a statue of Jesus dangling from it crossing a sunlit and optimistic Rome, it is iconic and beautiful to look at. I could watch it again without the sound. Although in black and white and made in 1960, it has avoided attaching itself to an era or even a genre.

Stunning and beautiful imagery and players reside within a wandering and dreamlike but compelling narrative. We follow cosmopolitan Marcello, a writer, as he experiences an almost cartoon existence of partying interspersed with rediculous and sometimes horrendous events. We watch as he tries to make sense of it all.

Easy to gaze at for its two and three quarter hours, it is engaging, amazingly contemprorary and even very funny.

Rude awakenings

The head end of my bed is against a pretty Victorian (but blocked off) fireplace. I use the mantle as a shelf; typically I have my alarm clock there so I can simply reach up and turn it over to see what time it is. I have been a bit dry in the throat lately, this morning at what turned out to be 6.30 I poured a glass of water over my face, pillow and bed clothes.

p.s. For a split second I was quite shocked and actually wondered what the hell was up with the alarm clock.