Matching Curtains

I'm still here!

Since my last post, I've had something of a shitter of a week, hence my absence from the blogosphere. However I am back and somewhat cautiously hoping that normal service will resume shortly. I don't have a review for you and will spare you the deep and meaningfuls of why I've had such a bitch of ut lately, but can share the following with y'all today.

• A new picture of the late Heath Ledger on the set of Terry Gilliam's Work-in-Progress The Imaginarium of Dr Parnassus has been released and looks stunning. See below:

Ledger worked with Gilliam on The Brothers Grimm which I really liked, so I'm interested to see him in this. It's very sad he isn't around to complete the picture, as he and Gilliam must have felt a kinship to have wanted to continue their creative endeavours together, and I think that this story in particular sounded really intriguing. Ledger had been picking some pretty interesting projects before he passed away and this was no exception. And whilst Gilliam's erratic filmmaking history and visionary ideas are not always well received critically, they're always original and startling.

The story of this movie is about Dr Parnassus and his ‘Imaginarium’, a travelling show in which the doctor's magical mirror gives him the ability to guide other people's imaginations. However, despite this extraordinary gift, Parnassus is in thrall to the devil, with whom he's made a series of unfortunate deals. The first gave Parnassus immortality; the second traded this for youth - on the proviso that when his first born reaches 16 they will become the devil's property. When his daughter (Lily Cole, now studying at Cambridge incidentally, so clearly she has brains and beauty) approaches 16, Parnassus has to travel through parallel worlds to save her. Further to Ledger's tragic death, Gilliam has rescripted the movie so that Johnny Depp, Jude Law and Colin Farrell will continue the story playing different manifestations of Parnassus as he travels through the different worlds. It sounds really fantastical and surreal and I'm curious to see how the various actors parts slot togther.

• I saw Priceless on DVD over the weekend and it was great - a flimsy story admittedly, but saved by charming leads: Amelie's Audrey Tautou in a rather different role from that which made her name, with Gad Elmaleh as her love interest. The movie's a neat twist on the Breakfast at Tiffany's tale with breathtakingly glamourous locations and some pretty incredible dresses. Although how Ms Tautou remained in the dresses remains to be seen ... One thing's for sure, all three of us now want to be Audrey Tautou!

• A friend and I made it to the Carling Academy to see The Pipettes on Sunday and they were ace - spangly pop loveliness was enjoyed by all and the girls were just what I needed to cheer myself up in advance of returning to work on Monday - I still have 'Pull Shapes' resonating through my head this morning.
• Obama is still ahead in the polls! After the long run up it's exciting to think there are only SIX days left until the US election. Barack Obama has become a huge hero of mine and I hope he gets in - we can't take anything for granted and the Democrats shouldn't be complacent at this juncture, but SURELY even the vaguest notion of Sarah Palin having her finger over the button is enough to inspire even the most ardent Republican to switch teams. Plus, Obama RULES.

Jack Maggs by Peter Carey

I loved Peter Carey's Oscar and Lucinda, so when I saw Jack Maggs for sale at the marvellous £2 bookshop opposite where I work, I seized it with glee. And glad I am at that I did. This post-colonial novel and riposte to Dickens' Great Expectations is a really gripping and at times emotive yarn, for all it's post-modern savvy. It tells the story of Jack Maggs, a transported convict who returns to England in 1837 from New South Wales. Maggs has made a lot of money down under and has used it to finance the education of Henry Phipps, a young orphan he met before he was deported; we find this out by degrees in the multi-layered narrative Maggs shares with Carey - and through the 'magnetism' practised by hypnotist and wannabe author Tobias Oates. However, Henry Phipps is no Pip and Maggs is given more of a voice than Magwitch, the Dickens characters the pair are based on. Here, Phipps is a dislikeable figure and Maggs is at the centre of all the action (unlike the marginalised Magwitch), driving the plot down twisting and exciting paths. By taking this approach, Jack Maggs (the book and the character) sheds new light on the colonialism of the Victorian era, bringing a fresh perspective to bear on stories we all know very well indeed. Dickens as the great English writer is set upon by Carey, the talented antipodean author (and in colonial terms, underdog), in order that Carey can give the 'other', that well known literary chestnut, a voice.

Tobias Oates wants to use the story of Maggs to his own ends, hypnotising him so he can adapt the mysterious man's secrets in a novel he is writing. Oates, the English auteur, is quite clearly the coloniser of the Australian 'other', the convict Maggs. His actions also illustrate the dubious moral position of the author in sourcing material - in particular, that of Dickens himself. Critics have pointed out lots of crossovers between Oates and the life of the young Dickens, so I won't repeat them here - I recommend you read the book and then do your own sleuth work should you be interested! Anyway, back to the idea of controlling the unknown. Will the mysterious Maggs be tamed? You bet he won't! The unshackling of the shadowy figures in books from Dickens' time allows familiar stories to be re-told with modern insight. However, the book is as much an homage as it is a clever post-colonial response to the almighty writers of the Victorian period. The fog and dirt which cover London recalled Bleak House for me (oh may I never have to read that turgid doorstop again), and the fantastic names Carey affords his characters are also reminiscent of Dickens' literary creations: Mercy Larkin redeems Maggs, Percy Buckle is a disturbing caricature of a social climber, Mrs Halfstairs is the housekeeper to Mr Buckle's dilapidated house, and so on. Oates and Maggs are also as similar as they are representative of the coloniser and the colonised - both see their dreams in tatters by the penultimate part of the book and are 'thieves' of different kinds: Oates of other people's thoughts and Maggs ... the more conventional sort. By parralleling the two men's story arcs, Carey is paying respect to Dickens whilst at the same subverting all his types and Maggs is the centrepiece for this. His animalistic, brutish presence is given a lot of time and developed cleverly - we discover tragic tales from his childhood and his forcible introduction to a life of crime, his doomed love affair and cruel 'Ma'. The driven Maggs slowly becomes an anti-hero we root for; a stock Dickens character given psychological motives. My main problem with Dickens was always the cartoonish presentation of his protagonists, so I thoroughly appreciated Carey's efforts here - I felt able to engage with Carey's protagonists in a way I find simply impossible with Dickens.

Carey is a talented writer who can conjour up vivid scenes and textures effortlessly. I was routinely moved by his characters' experiences, whether it be Mercy's dabbling in prostitution or the deep love Tobias Oates' sister-in-law feels for him (however undeserved it is). I also felt the stings of the floggings Maggs received, right down to the flies crawling in his wounds in the Sydney heat (needless to say, Carey does detail well), and smelt the oily sweat on his overcoat in the gloomy London parlours. In Jack Maggs, Carey brings the psychological understanding he demonstrated in Oscar and Lucinda to an altogether different terrain, and had me hooked from start to finish. This is a book where it's great fun to join up the dots in the 'thriller' aspect of the story as well as spot the comparisons to Dickens' work. The lasting memory I will have of this though, is the cracking story.

Baby Mama - DVD review

I like Tina Fey. I can't give a precise reason for it other than she just seems like she'd be a really cool friend. Oh - that Sarah Palin sketch might also have swung it. Plus the fact that she made it in the male-dominated world of comedy. Or even just her lovely hair. Whatever, I approached Baby Mama with what some would deem a biased attitude and came away from it feeling warm and glowy inside, despite it's flaws.

Fey plays Kate, a single, sensible and successful businesswoman in her late thirties whose attempts at IVF fail on account of what doctors diagnose as her T-shaped uterus. Cue Angie (Fey's Saturday Night Live co-anchor Amy Poehler), a white trash girl from the wrong side of town with a dumb boyfriend who thinks there is money to be made from surrogacy and whom Kate decides will be her surrogate - perhaps unwisely you might think. Contracts are drawn up, Kate's fertilised eggs injected into Angie, and Angie soon moves in with Kate after she breaks up with dufus boyfriend Carl (Dax Shepherd). The pair are poles apart and disagree on everything - Kate's goody-two shoes health food obsession and general controlling nature riles the fast food junkie Angie; Angie's unfortunate love of kareoke, plus pretty much everything else, riles Kate. But guess what? In true Hollywood style the pair soon bond and make up their own cute family unit, with Angie giving Kate the confidence to date cute smoothie maker (Greg Kinnear) and Kate encouraging Angie to go to college. You weren't expecting that now, were you? But don't worry, that's not where things end. There's a twist to this tale which is fairly predictable, but which makes a point about the tough choices women have to make between family and work and how fertility is viewed in our culture - even if the point is ever so slightly blunted by occasional lapses into more saccharine territory (the requisite make over/sing along - you get my point).

Fey and Poehler's history co-anchoring Saturday Night Live ensures that there is terrific chemistry between the two leads. The birthing classes led by a woman with a speech impediment are especially funny. I have to say that Poehler's character harvests the most laughs but grant that it probably takes a lot for Fey to assume to role of the straight woman. However, it's the old timers who steal the scenes from under the nose of Fey and Poehler. Sigourney Weaver, in what is a clever subversion of her Working Girl Role, plays the CEO of the surrogacy company managing Kate's case, who demonstrates an alarming natural fertility for an older woman and whose unspeakably calm demeanour and insincere laugh are hilarious. Her character, Chaffee Bicknell, is one of those women whom those unable to conceive must hate - when Kate protests that it's surely impossible for a woman of Chaffee's age to conceive naturally, she responds smugly 'not if you saw my uterus'. Weaver essentially exaggerates all that is annoying about women like Chaffee whilst creating a character who is the source of some of the more biting lines in the movie. She refers to surrogacy as 'outsourcing' in a swipe at the baby industry, which surely could only come from someone who hasn't experienced infertility and is so insensitive you laugh in shock. Steve Martin, another SNL alumnus, also shines as Kate's smarmy new age boss. Complete with pseudo-hippy mantras and oily long white ponytail, his character recalls Tim Robbins' Ray from High Fidelity but actually manages to be creepier! His involvement is also pretty ironic when one considers the Cheaper by the Dozen movies he's been in. He 'rewards' Kate with five minutes of 'uninterrupted eye contact' when she secures a new location for his health food company's new shop, and later tells Angie that the secret of success is to have a big dick ... In short, he's great value for money.

The talented cast ensure this movie is much more successful than it might have been if lesser actors had been involved. You can't deny Baby Mama's formulaic structure and predictability - it's  gentle charm comes at the expense of belly laughs. Still, it's a feel good film with appealing leads and way better than the average chick flick. Hot on the heels of Juno and Knocked Up, this is a sweet addition to the conception comedies doing the rounds over the last year or so and I recommend a DVD viewing. One for the girls methinks.

Savage Grace

Savage Grace is based on the biography by Natalie Robins and Steven M.L. Aronson and tells the story of the dysfunctional heirs to the Baekeland fortune (no, I didn't know either - apparently the great-grandfather of the son who is at the centre of the story invented Bakelite plastic). Julianne Moore, so adept at playing screwed up women in period pieces, continues this trend but with a twist. Unlike in Far From Heaven or The Hours, in this movie she is less of a victim and more a psychological horror story as the social climber Barbara Daly. Simultaneously needy and manipulative, we see from the start that her marriage to the equally loathsome Brooks Baekeland is crumbling. Both are deeply insecure in their own ways - she desperate to impress and in need of constant attention; he crippled with inferiority at not living up to his more successful progenitors. It's inevitable that their relationship  fed into their son's personality, but the extent to which he is affected is shocking and confronts one of society's biggest taboos - incest. Barbara goads Brooks whilst simultaneously seeking affirmation from him; both live off the family fortune and enjoy glamorous but empty lives, travelling to exotic parts of the world and having random affairs. Their coldness towards each other grows as the film progresses, heightening the dependency Barbara comes to have on son Tony (played as an adult by the delicate and icy Eddie Redmayne). Their already disturbingly close relationship intensifies when Dad runs off with the girl who pops Tony's cherry, betraying wife and son in one foul swoop (as you do). However Tony is less bothered than his mother suspects - it soon transpires that he is gay. His sexuality is disregarded by his mother who takes it upon herself to be the only woman in his life - in one shocking scene it is implied Tony has sex with both his mother and her boyfriend (Hugh Dancy). The effects of this unhealthy relationship are shocking and irrevocable - we witness the final fates of Barbara and Tony in the last ten minutes of the film.

Moore is as usual the movie's highlight and stuns as the dislikeable Barbara, who lacks any kind of insight whatsoever. Two scenes in particular stand out for me - the first is after Barbara attempts suicide, and we see her in the bath whilst her son tends to the wounds on her wrists; the second where she mounts her son in her immaculate twinset and has sex with him, finishing him off afterwards. Both moments are deeply uncomfortable to watch, yet Moore somehow manages to convey both a need to dominate and a pathological insecurity all at once - as an acting masterclass it's faultless. In light of her involvement, it's conceivable to argue that whether the movie should have been more focussed on Redmayne's Tony is almost irrelevant. But if we forget her mesmirising performance for a second (and it is hard to do that!), one has to ask if whether by seeming to make the mother the focus of the film, the audience loses out. Had Redmayne been given more material to flesh out Tony's deepening mental illness, his character's sudden change towards the end of the film would be more explicable. Surely it would have been better to lay the ground a little more for his behaviour - to establish that he was seriously mentally ill, rather than sock such a sudden punch to the audience right at the end? Of course we know he's going to be fucked up by having such a monstrous mother, but his murderous act occurs so abruptly that it knocks the whole movie offkilter. Or maybe, as damaged as Redmayne manages to project Tony, his performance is a little bit too aloof - perhaps he isn't quite ready to go head to head with a formidable presence like Moore. Another actor might have pulled off the complexities of Tony's psychology without needing more script at his disposal, fired up by rather than passively observing his co-star, as often seems to be the case with Redmayne. Whatever, this fascinating and appalling oedipal story still needs equal focus on the son as well as the mother, if we're to really grapple with such a difficult topic.

Incest isn't an easy subject for a film and though the movie looks amazing, doing period well and without self-consciousness, it's sheen and Redmayne's brittleness make it hard for the audience to even try and engage with the material. It's all too emotionally distancing: the fact that not one of the characters is that pleasant hardly helps. Yes, I know ... like in literature, you shouldn't value a project's worth on whether someone is nice or not! I don't even think it's that which held me back from being more interested in the movie if I am honest. I just felt there was something missing. Like the hollow lifestyles its characters lead, the glamorous European locations and extravagantly attired cast were too glossy to surmount the problems of script and story arc. I wasn't sure whether I was supposed to be shocked and revulsed or to pity the key players. The only message I could glean from Savage Grace was about class: the indolent, lesuired lifestyles of the filthy rich characters are steeped in corruption from which there seems to be no way out. The story of the Baekeland family's decline is one of the American Dream turned sour; Savage Grace tells it in an unsettling and uber-stylised manner which leaves us only with an impression of how a group of nasty and unstable people fashioned their own downfall. No attempt at understanding Barbara or Tony is really made and as a result the movie - despite Moore's riveting performance - is ulimately disappointing.

The Strangers - DVD review

Bryan Bertino's debut thriller is a simple, suspense-filled variant on the slasher genre which plays out slowly and with a high degree of tension. It's very old fashioned in style and clearly takes inspiration from movies ranging from Halloween to The Blair Witch Project (a narrator claims the story is inspired by true events at the start of the movie). Taking the premise of unwanted, sinister strangers knocking at the door of a house situated in the middle of nowhere, with a young couple (Liv Tyler and Scott Speedman in convincing performances) forced to fight for their lives, there is much about this movie that relies on cliche. However where it differs is in the execution: most of the dread built up in both the victims and the audience relies on the anticipation of horrific events rather than, well, the execution (not to labour a point). Tyler and Speedman play Kristen and James, a young couple who stay in James' parents holiday home after attending a friend's wedding. We see them return to the house in awkward silence and soon gage that Kristen has turned down James' marriage proposal. The pair are tense and uncomfortable, but their problems are about to get much, much worse. After a young girl knocks the door asking for someone who the pair have never heard of, they are tormented by a trio of masked intruders who seem to get off on the intimidation and humiliation of their victims. Obviously masks are always very spooky, and the havoc the trio wreak builds on their frightening anonymity successfully. Stairs creak, records loop creepily, phones are thrown in fires, axes plunged through doors, and cars set alight in a movie which sees the privacy of the home invaded and a gradual and effective escalation of paranoia. Bertino shows he has a great skill as a director - he really knows what is scary and exploits horror conventions to the full, ensuring that viewers are never ironical about what they are seeing but rather left genuinely holding their breath. Tyler and Speedman are both excellent choices as leads, wringing every last drop of fear they can out of events; Tyler is particularly impressive as she becomes more and more hysterical by the film's close. When her character asks one of the intruders 'Why are you doing this to us?', they offer a muffled reply: 'Because you were home'. The senselessness of their violence is terrifying, but also points to a faltering lack of conviction on the part of Bertino as he draws things to a close.

The movie's denouement (a word I'm not sure really fits the frustrating finale) lets it down. After all the suspense, with most of the violence cleverly occurring off-screen to highten tension, the ending fails to satisfy or explicate what has happened. Once the pair are caught by the three lunatics who've plagued them all night, it feels as though the movie doesn't really know where to go next: unlike what has gone before, the cliches are now just cliches and the fate of Kristen and Scott seems rushed and sadistic for just the sake of being so. Which might be the intention, but it makes for a pretty pointless and depressing resolution. We get the impression that the three psychos are new at their craft, much like the director, yet the way they have gone about things is meticulous (again, much like the director). This inconsistency isn't the only thing which raises alarm bells. The structure is slightly sloppy - the movie's introduction plays a phone call from Kristen to the police which we never hear her make, and there are other gaps that are never explained. The ending destabilizes the whole story and I wasn't really sure what it was supposed to imply; I can't say too much for fear of giving away a spoiler but if you've seen this movie, answers on a postcard please!

To sum up, I really liked the 1970s feel to the movie - from the distinctive cinematography right down to the record player and Tyler's 70s style clothing and look. I was completely hooked by the first hour so felt sorely disappointed at how things played out. It's certainly a stylish and compelling movie which guarantees you will be looking over your shoulder next time you're home alone, so on that basis I would recommend it to any horror movie fan. However, don't expect quality from start to finish - prepare yourself not just for jumps and bumps in the night, but for the movie's unfortunate and badly timed self destruction.

The Visitor

Written and directed by Thomas McCarthy, The Visitor is a sensitive and thought-provoking movie which tackles the topic of immigration in the US. Six Feet Under's Richard Jenkins plays Walter, a shy professor who has shrunken into himself following the death of his wife. An economics lecturer who teaches the same course every year and procrastinates madly regarding the book he is supposedly writing, Walter is clearly lonely and depressed and makes excuses to shut himself off from a life which fails to inspire him. When his university force him to present a colleague's paper at a conference in New York, he returns to his apartment in the city only to discover he has a visitor: well, two to be precise. They are Tarek (an appealing Haaz Sleiman) and Zainab (Danai Gurira, who is simply stunning), a young couple from Syria and Senegal respectively, who have been set up in his apartment by a real estate scammer. Walter lets them stay after realising they have nowhere else to go, but despite giving the pair an obvious benefit it is actually him who is given the greater gift. Through the friendship of the charismatic and likeable Tarek he slowly comes out of himself - to see this awkward, stiff man learning to play drums and loosening up in the company of his guests is quite touching. His repressed personality takes well to the instrument and in one wonderful scene, he plays with abandon alongside Tarek and a drum circle in Central Park. However following this we are subjected to a change in tone, which finds Walter having to exploit his new found confidence when Tarek is imprisoned after a misunderstanding over tickets on the subway. Zainab reveals that the pair are illegal immigrants and the threat of Tarek's deportation looms. Tarek's mother Mouna (Hiam Abbass) then enters the picture, an elegant and dignified woman whom Abbass plays with a quiet strength - remarkable given the character's turbulent past (slowly revealed to Walter as he and Mouna grow closer). Walter, fully engaged with life once more, takes a leave of absence from his job and hires a lawyer to fight Tarek's case, supporting Zainab and Mouna by visiting Tarek in the detention centre on their behalf (as illegal immigrants they cannot expose themselves to the risk of being caught).

I highly recommend this movie - like McCarthy's The Station Agent, it deals with things in miniature and never oversteps a naturalistic style either in form or content. Although it may sound very preachy, The Visitor thankfully avoids this pitfall and emotionally, I was completely floored by the finale. Tackling and subverting stereotypes, as well as dealing with the notion of freedom and what America stands for, you'd think there would be a tendency to lean on cliche; again, I'm pleased to allay any such fears. Jenkins is absolutely superb as Walter - a world away from the drolleries of the sardonic Nathaniel Fisher, you really feel his shyness painfully. His loneliness finds its counterpoint in Mouna's grief and the pair share some incredibly tender moments in a very human and real story that never lets the movie's big issues run away with themselves. Walter is a hero who shows us how capable we can all be of doing good, and whose humanity is portrayed honestly and unfussily. The strength and tenacity of the illegal immigrants is also coloured with the same sense of heroism - no histrionics here but people getting on with their lives, or at any rate, trying to.

A class act with understated performances, The Visitor feels less like a lecture and more like an emotional experience, humanising statistics and challenging the status quo in a quiet and memorable style. I came away from this movie sharing Walter's frustration with the system - America is a land of immigrants whose very constitution welcomes those seeking asylum, but where it seems such values are increasingly compromised. The presence of the Statue of Liberty and American flag in this film remind you of the principles the country stands for which seem to have been forgotten in the post 9/11 paranoia which Tarek falls victim to. The apparatchik-like staff at the detention centre embody an unfeeling bureaucracy where adherence to 'Homeland Security' takes precedence over individual rights, serving to silently condemn a nation which ironically celebrates personal freedoms. The issue of race in the multi-ethnic USA has historically always been a contentious one, and this deeply satisfying movie implies with subtlety that it still is. I found it interesting that the story was relayed from Walter's mindset and that we never see the deportees leaving his country's shores - their offscreen removal, as if they never existed and never had a voice, is surely very telling. The arbitrary actions of the state fail to distinguish the real threat from the imagined and only serve to create a fear seperate to but born from that of terrorism. To my mind, such actions don't allay the original anxiety but only serve to make more and more people unhappy.

One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest - a brief appreciation

I first saw this movie a few years ago and was astounded by its capacity to move and shock. Upon introducing it to someone for the first time last night, I was again reminded of it's power. Based on Ken Kesey's novel of the same name, the movie is set in the 70s (when it was made), and tells the story of the charismatic R.P. McMurphy (an electrifying Jack Nicholson), a convict who fakes insanity to get out of a punishment of forced labour and finds himself in a mental asylum. A gregarious, huge personality, he soon realises that he has entered what is possibly an equally repressive and even more disturbing regime as that which he would have found in jail. The detached and frighteningly calm bully Nurse Ratched (Louise Fletcher) dominates the ward McMurphy finds himself in, subduing the patients spirits with her draconian rules. She instantly becomes McMurphy's nemesis as he breathes new life into the stultifying hospital, bringing to the patients a sense of possibilty and personal freedom. As the movie pans out we discover that the apparently innocuous nurse holds more cards than McMurphy anticipates, and her authoritarian zeal results in some truly devastating scenes as the movie draws to a close.

The movie makes some interesting points about what constitutes madness, suggesting that the nurses are as institutionalised as their patients and behave in ways which are arguably as insane as some of the inmates (for want of a better word - Ratched's hospital is no better than a prison after all). The tagline used best sums up this issue: 'If he's crazy, what does that make you?' Not only does the movie serve as a criticism of the treatment of the mentally ill at the time, it is also an argument in favour of the counterculture of the day, as so many '70s movies are. Given that this was released in the wake of the Watergate Scandal, it's hardly surprising that it is flavoured with disaffection for the established order. Nurse Ratched (=Wretched?) is certainly symbolic of how power corrupts and can make people behave in inhumane ways: a reflection of Nixon's money laundering and actions in Cambodia perhaps. However, it's anti authoritarian hero McMurphy is in no way just a flat foil used to celebrate the subversive elements of the time - he is very three dimensional. Although he is at times dislikeable he is always incredibly magnetic, and Nicholson really is superb as the intriguing and freespirited con. One particular scene lingers on his face, his eyes moving almost imperceptibly as the implications of the world he has entered dawn on him; on this basis alone, I defy anyone to watch the movie and not emerge from it feeling deeply the tragedy of the character he plays. Will Sampson as Chief, the Native American who is thought to be 'deaf and dumb', is also memorable for some terrific moments towards the movie's close. But to be fair, the entire cast are exceptional - Fletcher creates one of cinema's lasting villains in Nurse Ratched and there are notable performances from Brad Dourif and a very young Christopher Lloyd and Danny De Vito.

Some have argued that via the negative impression of women we receive from Nurse Ratched, the only central female character, the movie is misogynistic and has damaged perceptions of mental health care into the bargain. I don't accept the latter point; support for the mentally ill has improved dramatically since the time the movie was made and whilst there may still be outposts of inadequacy and further room for improvement, these are surely in the minority. I would be appalled if practitioners of Ratched's ilk still existed and on the first point, I think the fact she is a woman is more coincidence than design. 

I read somewhere that Ken Kesey was unhappy with how his source material was adapted; I read the book 12 years ago as a precocious teenager so I will have to revisit it to try and work out why this might have been - revisiting the film has certainly prompted me to re-read the novel. Although times have changed the message of this movie is still a valid one when you think about it: it's an indictment of the social norms that stunt the vulnerable or the 'different'. R.P. McMurphy is a character who embodies this difference and his fate is one which resonates down the years. The movie is tragic and troubling, but with moments of comedy that serve to lift the human spirit and remind us why we have to try to fight injustice, in whatever form it assumes, if we are to have any quality of life at all. If you haven't yet seen it, I would urge you to do as I personally found this movie life changing.

Another Way to Die - Alicia Keys and Jack White

May I just say, the new Bond song is fecking amazing.

A strange pairing, Alicia Keys and Jack White have made a Bond track which conjours up the theatricality of previous efforts (not including 'Die Another Day', I might add) whilst mixing things up enough to create something entirely new. The track's clash of bluesy-cum-feral vocal styles, jarring piano chimes and belligerent guitar, evoke Daniel Craig's new more aggressive Bond to a T.

The music video's palette also echoes a scene from Quantum of Solace which gives a disturbing twist to an iconic Bond moment ... I won't say any more than that, but movie fans might already have seen the stills for themselves online over the weekend. Both song and video prove just how right the choice of Keys and White was for the second 21st century Bond outing. It's also made me pretty impatient to see the movie itself! In the meantime, check out the song for yourselves:

Joan As Police Woman - To Survive

To Survive, the follow up to Joan As Police Woman's 2006 Real Life, is a much more muted, sombre affair than it's predecessor. To purloin the flame metaphor Joan Wasser utilises on her debut, whilst Real Life was a firey blaze, To Survive is more akin to the tremulous flickering of a candle before it peters out, with all the implications of beauty and fragility this implies. Real Life has been a constant fixture on my stereo since I was introduced to JAPW a couple of years ago, so I was in knots as to whether the band could surmount that 'difficult second album syndrome' and deliver the goods a second time. I'm relieved that they did - and also intrigued by the noticeable change of tack on this latest output. Opening track 'Honor My Wishes' is a misty and meditative, piano-led piece which creeps upon you stealthily, quite unlike the directness of 'Real Life'. However it does pave the way for the more familiar JAPW terrain of 'Holiday'. The stunning 'Magpies', with its mythic Joan of Arc references (there's the flame analogy again) also nods to the band’s previous mood.

Joan Wasser has a hugely emotional and epic past, both musically and personally. The girlfriend of singer Jeff Buckley, who accidentally drowned in 1997, she has worked with the likes of Antony and the Johnsons (Antony later worked with her on Real Life), Guillemots (she provides backing vocals on 'Red Wings') and Rufus Wainwright, who provides vocal support on the album's closing track 'America'. All of these artists are recognised for their integrity and artistic flair, and she and her band are no different. Wasser is adept at writing classic, stirring torch songs which win over musos and casual listeners alike. Having seen her live, I can vouch for her voice's incredible impact and also for her being a very likeable individual indeed - she has a natural verve which translates readily into her songs.

Wasser's voice, unmistakably powerful, is employed to very different effect on this more reflective LP than on Real Life, showing a maturity and range that impresses itself upon the listener more gradually than it's predecessor's magnificent bombast. Wasser's assured and sophisticated songs have none of the blandness or emotional schlock which characterises many of the jazz-styled female artistes doing the rounds on Jools Holland. The escalating keyboards on 'Furious' fuel a sense of writhing emotions in a confident, clever and twisting track which delivers on all fronts, without making you feel manipulated as is the case with many of the anodyne new 'talents' out there.

A good proportion of the tracks are sparse, piano-led arrangements which cascade and broaden out the more you listen to them. 'To Be Lonely', a track twinned with 'To Be Loved', is heartbreaking in it's simplicity, with Wasser's deep, velvety voice weaving it's way around piano and barely there strings. Lyrics like 'This is the one I would die for, to be lonely, to be lonely with' illustrate that not only is her musical gift irrefutable, so is her way with words. 

On the whole, subtlety is the essence of this album - it's the kind of thing which sits well as a bluesy, elegant background accompaniment over dinner (and indeed it's been the album of choice at recent soirees, get me) but it has sinuous qualities that grow upon you until you are drawn in to its intimacy and deeply affected by the emotions - you'll soon put down your fork and listen, to be sure. This is much, much more than background music for the chattering classes to impress their mates with - it's a sophisticated and original album which rewards listeners' patience and sensitivity in abundance. Alongside the likes of Martha Wainwright, Joan Wasser is remoulding what it is to be a female singer songwriter and is undoubtedly here for the duration. The fireworks and brass on 'America' confirm that Joan Wasser is a talent here to stay - celebrating the sound and the fury of her past and her future, it is a suitably triumphant and complex track to finish an impressive and quietly confident album.