... and I am pleased to report that She & Him have recorded an album of Christmas songs. As you'd expect, it's retro and pared down - reminscent of Ye Olde Christmas, pre-iPhones and the like. Therefore, I love it. Just as much as I love Zooey's wardrobe. Check out their recent preformance on the Ellen Show - I hope it will inspire you to buy what has to be the hippest Christmas album in some years!
May 2012
Television
December 03, 2011
October 18, 2010
This is England '86
I’m just about recovered from watching one of the finest period dramas of recent times, and no, I’m not talking about the Austen adaptations one comes to associate with the tag. I refer, of course, to This is England ‘86. A few years on from This is England, we are reunited with Shaun, Woody, Lol, Milky et al during a time of financial, social, musical and, let’s not forget, sartorial extremes. There’s a notable shift from the male-focussed gang culture in the film to a female-centric storyline involving Vicky McClure in a tour de force performance as Lol; likewise the first two episodes are much more frivolous and silly than we’re led to expect. However the party is soon over, festivities abruptly smashing into darker territory in a dramatic arc which turns bathos inside out and provokes a response as visceral as its subject matter. If you haven’t seen it, I hope I’ve intrigued you. But be prepared.
I was, it’s fair to say, unimpressed with the first two episodes, disappointed by the slant towards Shameless/Skins shenanigans and wondering where the social and moral questioning of the original project was. I soon realised though, that this was, whether intentionally or not (Meadows only writes and directs the latter two shows), a hugely effective dramatic ploy. The party scenes which kick the series off may seem hollow, but they embody the lives of Jarvis Cocker’s own ‘Common People’, with nothing left to do but ‘dance and drink and screw’: their bored nihilism condemns the misery of Thatcher’s England for millions of young working classes more eloquently than any politician. There’s also a sense of safety within this drunken, stumbling bubble which is savagely punctured with astounding brutality, winding us to the end. Upon her father returning (Jonny Harris, bravely taking on the role of the bullying and sexually abusive Mick), Lol’s history of being sexually abused by her father is revealed and sets in motion a chain of violent events – events which can only lead to one devastating conclusion.
McClure and Harris are the stars of the piece, delivering courageous performances before the unflinching gaze of Meadows’ camera; however the arrival of Stephen Graham’s Combo also renders us breathless. Combo is far from the film’s bullying hellraiser; instead we see a bloodied and broken man desperate to ‘do something good’, praying to a dead mother and provoking disgust through his very presence. The legacy of his past is literally inscribed upon his tattooed features, proclaiming an unashamedly vile racism. He is the man you cross the road to avoid; however upon discovering a traumatised Lol after she murders her rapist father, he is offered redemption by taking the blame for her actions. This satisfies the audience – we’ve been willing Lol on to exact revenge after all. But for a man we should and do revile to become the hero of the piece, we must adjust our own moral equations. Combo is Lol’s saviour, the nexus between good and evil and a catalyst for our own moral reflection. Moral complexity stacks up like a series of Russian dolls and it’s not long before he is the object of pity, revulsion and, yes, admiration. Making such a loathsome man the hero of the hour is a masterly twist on Meadow’s part: Graham occupies the final scene as Combo sits, waiting, in his cell, in a limbo which mirrors our own sense of moral uncertainty as we come to respect a man we want to hate. It’s drama at its best, which despite what it sounds like never tips into soap opera-style denouement. Woody and Milky, with their clear affection for the strong-willed Lol, are not our heroes, though they are pitched to be – their own male bonds outweigh all else and they are, for all intents and purposes, as naïve as they were in This is England, the only real change being the modish gear replacing their previous two-tone look.
Like all great drama, we are gripped by the tension, holding our breath in suspense by the end of episode four and desperate for Lol to emerge unscathed from her final encounter with her father. These gruelling scenes are set against interesting parallels and contrasts to distract us from the central story’s grimness. Meadows has always been good at balancing the tragic with the comic, and his treatment of fatherhood is a case in point: Meggy’s complete unawareness of the son he fathered who looks just like him might be unsubtle comedy, but it provides a marvellous counterpoint to the reversal of the relationship between Shaun (Thomas Turgoose) and Combo. The man who Shaun hero-worshipped and who let him down so badly is now cared for by Shaun as he literally crashes back into his life. Battered and bruised, Combo is given the clothes of the man Shaun wanted him to be: his dead father. Though relegated to a peripheral role, Shaun nonetheless also offers comic relief, both through his battle with the scooter riding Flip and his fledgling relationship with Smell (Rosamund Hanson). Their fumbling liaisons provide a necessary counterpoint to the harrowing rape scenes which transform a home into a site of danger.
The powerful subject matter is reflected in a distinctive aesthetic which echoes that of the film, indications of the period feeling commonplace rather than remarkable. However, the switch of directors between the first and second half of the series only serves to reinforce why Meadows should have taken on all four episodes: the small stylistic flourishes of the first two, however minor, pale in comparison to the rawness of Meadows’ direction. Mick’s attack on Trev (Danielle Watson) and the chilling climax featuring McClure and Harris are so naturalistic it’s genuinely hard to watch.
Plaudits like gritty and compelling are overused, though highly relevant to this startling TV series. Rarer than such praise though, is being able to call something genuinely fearless. And that is what sets Meadows apart. This is England ‘86 may not be comfortable viewing, but it is essential.
May 16, 2009
January 08, 2009
That's Another Story - Julie Walters
Julie Walters, or National Treasure Julie Walters as the media often call her, holds a special place in my heart for many reasons. Firstly she makes me laugh, she's a great actress, she personally replied to letters I wrote her when I was in my teens - twice - and also looks a bit like my mum :-) The connection is reinforced by the fact she's a fellow Midlander who originates from Smethwick, just a stone's throw from where I lived in the Black Country, and is thus something of a local hero. She's also one of those celebrities who seems to appeal to everyone without being too sickly. Which is why her autobiography was the ideal gift for my mum's Christmas present.
Unfortunately travel plans prevented me from sneakily reading said gift before wrapping hurriedly commenced, but my mum's praises ('you can really hear her voice ... some of the family stories remind me of our lot') and a click on iTunes later, I have listened to the audiobook, read by Walters herself, and can report that I thoroughly enjoyed it. It was delightful hearing Walters herself discuss her childhood and experiences at the Everyman in Liverpool, amongst other anecdotes, and it was immediately clear that she has a knack for storytelling. There's a good tale about a certain Mike Leigh being asked to fish a spider out of a terrified Julie's flat for instance! I especially enjoyed listening to a family friends' malapropisms, which bought light to some of the darker moments she reflects upon. After her father's death a family friend reassures Julie that her mother has never been 'erotic' (meaning neurotic) - this is something which could easily happen amidst my own elderly relatives(!) and Walters presents this with affection and a novelists ease.
The autobiography is at its most vivid in the first half, when Walters discusses her childhood and teens in '50s and '60s Birmingham. I loved the fact that she 'did the voices'! This, along with her talent for telling a tale, really brought everything to life; That's Another Story is as moving as it is hilarious. I sobbed when she relayed a conversation she'd had with her father a short while before his death and roared with laughter at some of the experiences she'd had as a trainee nurse in Birmingham's Queen Elizabeth Hospital. The second half of the book is marked by a focus upon her career, from Acorn Antiques and Educating Rita to Billy Elliott and Mamma Mia, with her relationships and family carefully protected. Some might feel she is rather guarded about this, but I can understand that she wants to preserve something for herself alone and in the light of some of the more intrusive celebrity biographies, the lack of 'tell all' was a breath of fresh air - she's clearly a very nice person who respects her past relationships and will protect their privacy as well as that of her husband and daughter. Although the latter half felt a weensy bit rushed, as she galloped from one project and illustrious name to another, this is hardly justifiable criticism as there was an awful lot to fit in and I found myself wishing her publishers had allowed her more space!
I am generally weary of the celebrity biography but this sets a totally different standard compared to the 'woe is me' generic slebstories you see trotted out so often. I heard from Kitty at Other Stories that no less than AN Wilson has bigged it up: 'I was enthralled by her memoirs ... a celebrity memoir which is actually worth reading as a work of literature'. I can only concur with the esteemed Mr Wilson :-) Julie Walters tells stories that are vibrant and warm - just as you imagine her to be - and just like all the best storytellers, she leaves you wanting more.
November 24, 2008
November 22, 2008
A few things for your Christmas list ...
I've literally just come back from the homeland (i.e. Brum) and am astonished by the level of fervour in the shops so soon before Christmas. As I'm soon off to the land of kangas, koalas and barbecues (not to lean on stereotypes you understand), I figured a spot of early Christmas shopping was in order. It seems most of the West Midlands had the same idea. Not fun. And I usually love a bit of retail therapy! After looking around eateries for some time we finally found a place with a free table only to wait 45 minutes for a meal. Which given it was a Wetherspoons pub, was a bit rich. When my 'nachos' arrived (doritos, congealed cheese and chicken - when I'd asked for chilli beef - and no salsa, sour cream or guacamole!!) I was, to say the least, rather disappointed. On the way back I started thinking about movies and music I've enjoyed recently and thought I'd share these thoughts with y'all. You never know, they may just give you some gift ideas for the festive season!
In Bruges
I recently saw In Bruges on DVD on the recommendation of Filmknitter. I won't say too much here as her review is great and completely bang on, but will say that it's a fantastic film, much darker than I'd expected yet also much, much funnier. Methinks Colin Farrall might finally have found his niche as an actor. In Bruges is totally not PC, but audacious and amusing and - this is the biggest shock - oddly moving. It gives you way more than your average thriller, and all with the beautiful backdrop of Bruges to feast your eyes upon. This was actually so stunning it made up for Ralph Fiennes' Mockney accent ...
Acid Tongue - Jenny Lewis
I've been obsessed with Jenny Lewis' (of Rilo Kiley fame) album Acid Tongue for a while now ... I know some people who've not got on with it; the production values are very slick and I can see why that wouldn't appeal to everyone, but I really liked it. It's certainly not as overproduced as Under the Blacklight, which I liked in a Fleetwood Mac kind of way (and before you start, there's absolutely nothing wrong with Fleetwood Mac - just ask Midlake!). M Ward's involvement ensures she gets the hipster vote and a certain Mr Costello also makes an appearance which is pretty damn cool if you ask me. Whilst the LP isn't as engaging as her outing with The Watson Twins (Rabbit Fur Coat), it has some lovely harmonies nonetheless - some with Zooey Deschanel, another pin up for the indie boys out there and whose own musical forays have received a very positive reception here at Matching Curtains. I do wish the LP was in a better case though, a cardboard envelope just doesn't cut the mustard I'm afraid, in spite of the lovely souvenir cards inside. This aside, Acid Tongue has a lovely country vibe which plays to all the strengths of Lewis' wonderfully melodic voice (it is stunning - I'd love to hear her live) and I'll definitely be following her career outside of Rilo Kiley closely.
Snowflake Midnight - Mercury Rev
Weird and wonderful, Snowflake Midnight is a landscape of strange sounds and musical experimentation which is a bit different from Deserter's Songs, the band's most famous album, in that it has a more electronic feel. But if you know someone who likes to be challenged and beguiled by their music, then I reckon as gifts go, you can't go far wrong with this.
Meet Glenn Campbell - Glenn Campbell
Yes, the Rhinestone Cowboy has recorded a number of tracks originally written and performed by contemporary artists. This could have been incredibly naff, but I love it. Travis's 'Sing' is given new life and in my mind is actually an improvement (this without departing massively from the original!); Green Day's 'Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)' transformed to sound as though it could be straight from Campbell's own back catalogue; and John Lennon's elegiac 'Grow Old With Me' is really very moving indeed. Oh yeah - there's also a Foo Fighters cover too! Intrigued yet?
And to end on an Australian note (well why not, I am going to be there soon!) - the DVD of Summer Heights High, an Australian school mockumentary, should be on everyone's christmas list. It's hilarious. The character of Jonah reminds you both how AWFUL lads like him were like at school, yet also how funny they were in hindsight - and perhaps only in hindsight! The poor teachers. Cracking stuff. Check out the clip below - I defy you not to laugh.
November 19, 2008
September 24, 2008
Six Feet Under - farewell (sob!)
Last night I watched the very last episode of Alan Ball's Six Feet Under, having made my way slowly through the bargainous box set I bought ages ago. Over the five seasons the Fisher Family have stared death in the face at their Funeral Home, the characters have taken on the feel of real people to dedicated fans, such is the depth and subtlety of the performances. Of course there is melodrama (Lisa's sudden disappearance and the cloudy reasons behind it; David's abduction and Brenda's sex addiction are but a few of these dramatic excesses), but the central characters are rarely pushed aside for the sake of the plot. There are of course exceptions - David's boyfriend Keith is subject to some pretty unlikely changes over seasons 2 and 3 - but on the whole, the show offered compelling and entertaining value for money.
Although it remained essential viewing and was head and tails above more soapy TV dramas even throughout its patchy periods, you can't escape the fact that the show has been somewhat inconsistent - there have been some genuine 'What the fuck?' moments as you wondered what on earth the writers were thinking. Despite this, season 5 is pretty special and I'd encourage people who start to tire of the show during the aforementioned runs to keep with it. Not many shows kill off a central character before the finale but it happens here. I guess this is par for the course for a series which emphasises the blurring of life and death, whilst still ensuring death remains 'other' as it observes the relationship between time and our life choices in honest and unwavering style. And, I should add, with an intense and hyper sensitive panache. Characters project feelings and insecurities onto the dead in fantasy sequences, hallucinations and conversations which reveal and conceal the meaning of their life choices and the afterlife in perplexing and wonderfully shot scenes.
It's hard to discuss the show's finale - 'Everyones' Waiting' - without wanting to dissect its events and thus reveal spoilers to people who've not seen it, but suffice to say it has a powerful emotional impact. Given the show's patchy history, I was surprised by how much I was affected by the last ten minutes of the episode. I won't reveal much more, but will say that that the episode is entirely character focussed and reveals just how much the cast's performances have created fully realised people whom we invest in warts and all. At times the show has proven unremittingly gloomy and the loneliness of the Fishers been almost too much to bear, but the finale transcends all of this in what is paradoxically both the show's happiest and most unnerving episode. It's characters are not perfect but nor is life - or death for that matter - and it is this, our society's final taboo of death, which the show is so successful in toying with. Six Feet Under is a show which is simultaneously sombre and morbid, almost defiantly introspective; and yet camp and humorous. It tackles themes ranging from older women's sexuality and homosexuality, to incest and drugs, and never employs the cheap stunts used by more pedestrian shows when dealing with this kind of subject matter.
Nate (Peter Krause) is arguably the show's pivotal character and his sister Clare (Lauren Ambrose) the person you are supposed to identify with, but for me the most compelling performances come from Frances Conroy as the passive aggressive Ruth, the Fisher matriarch who is so self denying you fear for her sanity; Michael C Hall as the conflicted and dutiful David; and lastly the brilliant Rachel Griffiths as the super intelligent and totally damaged Brenda Chenowith. Griffiths is the star of the show in my eyes and the character who, despite her incredible (in the truest sense of the word) past, most quickly leaps from the screen. Brenda's character development is traumatising and yet tinged with hope - to people who argue she is a narcissist, I would say that most of the characters in the show are and that Brenda is at least the most self aware(!). Griffiths is never less than 100% watchable and conveys an intelligence and gravitas that is omnipresent even as Brenda stoops to even greater emotional lows. Brenda's self disgust and road to recovery is not the stuff of heartwarming TV films and the past she shares with her brother almost begs some kind of preequel (to whet your appetite, there aint gonna be a follow up series, for sure ...). Joanna Cassidy as her monstrous mother is hilarious and horrendously selfish in equal measure - the antithesis of the boundary ridden Ruth, she has no limits and the tension between her and her daughter is tangible. There aren't many TV series which can offer you as good a back story for their supporting cast as they can their key players, but in Margaret Chenowith and her son Billy, the script writers have done just that.
So. Some HUGE themes are addressed in this frustrating but addictive show. It's easy to see the links between this and Alan Ball's American Beauty, so if you've never watched it but loved AB, I really implore you to give it a go. The show is as lavishly shot as the movie, but with 50 odd hours of footage you can really sink your teeth into Six Feet Under and not wonder if it is a mite pretentious, which is a fear I always have to shake off about American Beauty. If you like American Gothic fiction, Heathers, David Lynch and well written American literature, then you will adore this show despite its flaws, just as I do.
July 17, 2008
June 19, 2008
Old favourites and new finds
Another week, another enforced hiatus from blogging. I've not forgotten you! I have been crazy busy at work and music and TV shows (and some lurverly pinot grigio) have been soothing my tired brain when I get home. This week, I have been mostly listening to: Toots & the Maytals, Har Mar Superstar (whilst pondering the levels of orgasmic screams that would occur if Har Mar wrote for Justin Timberlake - hell they'd be dangerous!), and The White Stripes. Months on, I am STILL loving the cover of Patti Page's 'Conquest' from Icky Thump - and the matador-themed Chaplin-esque video doesn't disappoint either: Jack looks like Johnny Depp's wee brother and its surely only a matter of time before they join forces with Tim Burton for a future promo. Or is that just what I would have them do if I ruled the world?
And TV shows, well what can I say?
I've recently discovered Dexter, which stars the fabulous Michael C Hall, who plays David - easily my favourite character - on Six Feet Under. It's based on a novel by Jeff Lindsay and is about a guy called - you guessed it - Dexter. Dexter's unusual in that he's a serial killer who works for the Miami Police Department ... Dexter is not like most serial killers; he only kills the bad guys(!). It's a cracking premise for a show and the episodes I've seen so far have come over as American Psycho meets Taxi Driver. Macabre, twisted drama. Hall's gone from being the guy who consoled the griefsticken by caring for their dead, to the guy who brings on the deaths. The characters are so different but the performances are equally deserving of praise. I think Hall could become one of my favourite actors.
I've also just watched the pilot of 30 Rock, created by and starring comedienne Tina Fey (you might recognise her name, she wrote the script for Mean Girls, the fluffier and pinker, yet still ace, Heathers). 30 Rock is a sitcom about the cast, crew and writers of a fictional TV show. A friend recommended it ages ago; I did like it but I'm not sure it could become addictive in the way that some other shows have ... I will reserve judgement until I've seen a few more episodes. So far there've been some genuinely funny moments but some of the lines seemed a bit stilted, too aware they were designed to pull in the laughs.
Oh and reading ... I've almost finished a corking book by John King, called Human Punk. It's already surpassed all my expectations and you can expect a full blog to follow soon ...
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