Sunday, November 28, 2004
And thousands of women rejoiced: "for she is back and I am she".
The Bridget Jones phenomenon always annoyed me. Women everywhere "identified" because she is so "sweet" and "haven't we all been there after all"?
Ehm, no.
I'm sure that many people have the experience of being invited as the only single person to a party otherwise entirely populated by smug couples and agreed; not on my top 1000 of things to do.
But other than that?
"But it's great the way Bridget obsesses over her weight, just like we do".
No. We obsess over our weight, because films like this tell us that it is the norm. If Bridget was chubby and never obsessed over her weight - that's where we want to be!
And ultimately, the film perpetuates the notion that we all want a man. 'Singletons' (oh ye hideous, hideous word) all over the world may have rejoiced, but is it perhaps more in the sense that if she can, we can and ohmigod if only I would be pursued by Hugh Grant and Colin Firth that is so well done and almost impossible and then they could fight over me and I could be fiercely independent and yet approachable and why do women have to cook anyway and what's all this political correctness I'll smoke if I want to and cook blue soup 'cause who says a woman is a good cook just because she's a woman?
Who says a woman shouldn't be able to cook? Reclaim the cooking! I say. Not only 50's housewives know how to cook.
And how come a woman who is slightly on the 'thick' side of things and furthermore a pain in the arse, manages to pull not one but two appealing suitors? How many of you out there are doing that ongoingly?
Some people like being in relationships.
Some people like being single.
I have no problem with either. I have a problem with the world's most dissatisfied singleton being proclaimed as role-model and mouthpiece for single women everywhere.
(And for those who ask: read the first book, saw the first film - don't want to
revisit ever again).
On another note: saw a wildly romantic film last night and talk about girl power: far sexier and lovelier and more heartwarming than the sorry Bridget-affair.
The Bridget Jones phenomenon always annoyed me. Women everywhere "identified" because she is so "sweet" and "haven't we all been there after all"?
Ehm, no.
I'm sure that many people have the experience of being invited as the only single person to a party otherwise entirely populated by smug couples and agreed; not on my top 1000 of things to do.
But other than that?
"But it's great the way Bridget obsesses over her weight, just like we do".
No. We obsess over our weight, because films like this tell us that it is the norm. If Bridget was chubby and never obsessed over her weight - that's where we want to be!
And ultimately, the film perpetuates the notion that we all want a man. 'Singletons' (oh ye hideous, hideous word) all over the world may have rejoiced, but is it perhaps more in the sense that if she can, we can and ohmigod if only I would be pursued by Hugh Grant and Colin Firth that is so well done and almost impossible and then they could fight over me and I could be fiercely independent and yet approachable and why do women have to cook anyway and what's all this political correctness I'll smoke if I want to and cook blue soup 'cause who says a woman is a good cook just because she's a woman?
Who says a woman shouldn't be able to cook? Reclaim the cooking! I say. Not only 50's housewives know how to cook.
And how come a woman who is slightly on the 'thick' side of things and furthermore a pain in the arse, manages to pull not one but two appealing suitors? How many of you out there are doing that ongoingly?
Some people like being in relationships.
Some people like being single.
I have no problem with either. I have a problem with the world's most dissatisfied singleton being proclaimed as role-model and mouthpiece for single women everywhere.
(And for those who ask: read the first book, saw the first film - don't want to
revisit ever again).
On another note: saw a wildly romantic film last night and talk about girl power: far sexier and lovelier and more heartwarming than the sorry Bridget-affair.
Monday, November 22, 2004
Sacrilege!
Girls Aloud - you should be ashamed of yourselves!
Westlife - oh, just wither and die, will you?!
Make new music! Make new music!
(*Tears out hair*)
Girls Aloud - you should be ashamed of yourselves!
Westlife - oh, just wither and die, will you?!
Make new music! Make new music!
(*Tears out hair*)
Saturday, November 20, 2004
Mainly due to a free ticket, I went today to see this year's Turner Prize exhibition, as usual wildly and widely criticised.
And rightly so.
It is boring.
And mostly pointless.
There is a sense in which artists have moved from an interest and starting point in the self to a social indignity and a kind of journalism , which art cannot (and should not) embrace. As much as art is often political, political correctness disguised as awareness when the artist in actual fact doesn't seem to have much to say, is just dull.
I don't really want to criticise the Turner Prize, especially since Kim Howell's very public and inappropriate outburst in 2002, but the show really wasn't very interesting. I refuse to blame the Tate though, because I have a feeling that it did pick the cream of the crop - it's just that the crop isn't up to anything exciting at the moment.
That said, if Yinka Shonibare doesn't win there is no justice in this world.
And rightly so.
It is boring.
And mostly pointless.
There is a sense in which artists have moved from an interest and starting point in the self to a social indignity and a kind of journalism , which art cannot (and should not) embrace. As much as art is often political, political correctness disguised as awareness when the artist in actual fact doesn't seem to have much to say, is just dull.
I don't really want to criticise the Turner Prize, especially since Kim Howell's very public and inappropriate outburst in 2002, but the show really wasn't very interesting. I refuse to blame the Tate though, because I have a feeling that it did pick the cream of the crop - it's just that the crop isn't up to anything exciting at the moment.
That said, if Yinka Shonibare doesn't win there is no justice in this world.
Friday, November 19, 2004
First gig ever, where I have not been able to see anything - until the encore, that is.
But I'm jumping ahead already.
It's a known fact that Mean Fiddler is the shitstain on London venues. Formerly known as LA2, it is like a smaller version of Astoria, without the G.A.Y. nights and the girls in cages. It is also a maze (fire hazard! Fire hazard!)that will have you running around in circles in order to find the loos. Loos which, by the way, employ a woman to spritz you with perfume and wipe your brow when you chuck. I have no problem whatsoever with women who are employed to display an array of scents and squirt handcream on your hardly wiped hands, but it just seems so...inappropriate. If you voluntarily enter into this building you will not have the slightest interest in personal grooming. At least not at that time.
Anyway.
Boyfriend is ever so excited, since his 15 minutes took place during a dEUS videoshoot - I have seen said video, and frankly, a bald head bopping up and down could be anyone. But he claims it is he. Doesn't have any proof though. Isn't even bald anymore.
So we want to be close to the action without actually being killed and take a stand next to the mixing desk. A camp Fleming is make some kind of electronic noise, alledgedly wearing red dancing shoes and incorporating 4 shirt changes into a half hour set. In the end he is topless. He is also surprisingly amusing, although already at this point do I realise that I am too short for this kind of thing. But the strobe lighting is nice.
Main act comes on - I still cannot see a dickiebird. Music is great, but it is interesting how much the visual means, even though I'm alledgedly there for the music. The guys behind me keep screaming "wheeeeeeeh" every 30 seconds. After having been squashed and moved and banged on the head by other people's elbows/jackets/breaths, the people behind stand so close to me that I can suddenly feel something which can only be described as someone's, erm, manhood - on me. No one I know. It's not even sexual. At which point I throw in the towel and let boyfriend be boyfriend and leave him in the crowd.
From the 1st floor I can actually manage to see the tops of the band's heads and enjoy a brief encore, before it is all over.
And then I go home. And that was that.
But I'm jumping ahead already.
It's a known fact that Mean Fiddler is the shitstain on London venues. Formerly known as LA2, it is like a smaller version of Astoria, without the G.A.Y. nights and the girls in cages. It is also a maze (fire hazard! Fire hazard!)that will have you running around in circles in order to find the loos. Loos which, by the way, employ a woman to spritz you with perfume and wipe your brow when you chuck. I have no problem whatsoever with women who are employed to display an array of scents and squirt handcream on your hardly wiped hands, but it just seems so...inappropriate. If you voluntarily enter into this building you will not have the slightest interest in personal grooming. At least not at that time.
Anyway.
Boyfriend is ever so excited, since his 15 minutes took place during a dEUS videoshoot - I have seen said video, and frankly, a bald head bopping up and down could be anyone. But he claims it is he. Doesn't have any proof though. Isn't even bald anymore.
So we want to be close to the action without actually being killed and take a stand next to the mixing desk. A camp Fleming is make some kind of electronic noise, alledgedly wearing red dancing shoes and incorporating 4 shirt changes into a half hour set. In the end he is topless. He is also surprisingly amusing, although already at this point do I realise that I am too short for this kind of thing. But the strobe lighting is nice.
Main act comes on - I still cannot see a dickiebird. Music is great, but it is interesting how much the visual means, even though I'm alledgedly there for the music. The guys behind me keep screaming "wheeeeeeeh" every 30 seconds. After having been squashed and moved and banged on the head by other people's elbows/jackets/breaths, the people behind stand so close to me that I can suddenly feel something which can only be described as someone's, erm, manhood - on me. No one I know. It's not even sexual. At which point I throw in the towel and let boyfriend be boyfriend and leave him in the crowd.
From the 1st floor I can actually manage to see the tops of the band's heads and enjoy a brief encore, before it is all over.
And then I go home. And that was that.
Wednesday, November 10, 2004
Violence on television only affects children whose parents act like television personalities
And this is very sweet (from Roy's)
And this is very sweet (from Roy's)
Tuesday, November 09, 2004
Ewan's coming to London. At the Donmar, no less. Should one get tickets?
London Libraries have published a list of great reads that have inspired films. As I am working, I have decided to bold the ones I have read, italicise the ones I've seen and CAPITALISE the ones I actually like.
FORSTER, E M: A ROOM WITH A VIEW
Mann, Thomas: Death in Venice
STEINBECK, JOHN: EAST OF EDEN
CONROAD JOSEPH: HEART OF DARKNESS
Smith, Dodie: I Capture the Castle
PAGNOL, MARCEL: JEAN DE FLORETTE
O'Brian, Patrick: Master and Commander
Shute, Neville: On the Beach
KESEY, KEN: ONE FLEW OVER THE CUCKOO'S NEST
Greene, Graham: The End of the Affair
Thackeray, W. M.: Vanity Fair
Waugh, Evelyn: Vile Bodies
Lehane, Dennis: Mystic River
Lewis, Ted: Get Carter
ELLROY, JAMES: L A CONFIDENTIAL
Harris, Thomas: Red Dragon (if we're talking Michael Mann version, then a definite thumbs up, otherwise...)
Grisham, John: The Firm (hideous, no matter how you approach it)
Highsmith, Patricia: The Talented Mr Ripley
Topor, Roland: The Tenant
Rice, Anne: Interview with the Vampire
KING, STEPHEN: THE SHINING
Hines, Barry: A Kestrel for a Knave
Hornby, Nick: About a Boy
Syal, Meera: Anita and Me
Morrison, Toni: Beloved
Harris, Joanne: Chocolat
Frazier, Charles: Cold Mountain (I truly contemplated murder whilst sitting through this)
Wells, Rebecca: Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood
PALAHNIUK, CHUCK: FIGHT CLUB
Flagg, Fannie: Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe
Chevalier, Tracy: Girl with a Pearl Earring
Swift, Graham: Last Orders
Tyler, Anne: The Accidental Tourist
Garland, Alex: The Beach
Walker, Alice: The Color Purple
ONDAATJE, MICHAEL: THE ENGLISH PATIENT
King, John: The Football Factory
Evans, Nicholas: The Horse Whisperer
Allende, Isabel: The House of the Spirits
Proulx, Annie: The Shipping News (oh god, I attempted to read this. Really.)
Welsh, Irvine: Trainspotting
Clarke, Arthur C.: 2001: A Space Odyssey (not so much a question of not liking, more a question of not understanding. Especially because I was introduced to the film through a brief lecture on the comparisons and likenesses between this film and Joyce's Ulysses.)
BURGESS, ANTHONY: A CLOCKWORK ORANGE
DICK, PHILIP K: DO ANDROIDS DREAM OF ELECTRIC SHEEP?
Asimov, Isaac: I, Robot
Wyndham, John: The Day of the Triffids
BALLARD, J G: EMPIRE OF THE SUN
Harris, Robert: Enigma
Barker, Pat: Regeneration
Dugain, Marc: The Officers' Ward
I need to get a life.
London Libraries have published a list of great reads that have inspired films. As I am working, I have decided to bold the ones I have read, italicise the ones I've seen and CAPITALISE the ones I actually like.
FORSTER, E M: A ROOM WITH A VIEW
Mann, Thomas: Death in Venice
STEINBECK, JOHN: EAST OF EDEN
CONROAD JOSEPH: HEART OF DARKNESS
Smith, Dodie: I Capture the Castle
PAGNOL, MARCEL: JEAN DE FLORETTE
O'Brian, Patrick: Master and Commander
Shute, Neville: On the Beach
KESEY, KEN: ONE FLEW OVER THE CUCKOO'S NEST
Greene, Graham: The End of the Affair
Thackeray, W. M.: Vanity Fair
Waugh, Evelyn: Vile Bodies
Lehane, Dennis: Mystic River
Lewis, Ted: Get Carter
ELLROY, JAMES: L A CONFIDENTIAL
Harris, Thomas: Red Dragon (if we're talking Michael Mann version, then a definite thumbs up, otherwise...)
Grisham, John: The Firm (hideous, no matter how you approach it)
Highsmith, Patricia: The Talented Mr Ripley
Topor, Roland: The Tenant
Rice, Anne: Interview with the Vampire
KING, STEPHEN: THE SHINING
Hines, Barry: A Kestrel for a Knave
Hornby, Nick: About a Boy
Syal, Meera: Anita and Me
Morrison, Toni: Beloved
Harris, Joanne: Chocolat
Frazier, Charles: Cold Mountain (I truly contemplated murder whilst sitting through this)
Wells, Rebecca: Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood
PALAHNIUK, CHUCK: FIGHT CLUB
Flagg, Fannie: Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe
Chevalier, Tracy: Girl with a Pearl Earring
Swift, Graham: Last Orders
Tyler, Anne: The Accidental Tourist
Garland, Alex: The Beach
Walker, Alice: The Color Purple
ONDAATJE, MICHAEL: THE ENGLISH PATIENT
King, John: The Football Factory
Evans, Nicholas: The Horse Whisperer
Allende, Isabel: The House of the Spirits
Proulx, Annie: The Shipping News (oh god, I attempted to read this. Really.)
Welsh, Irvine: Trainspotting
Clarke, Arthur C.: 2001: A Space Odyssey (not so much a question of not liking, more a question of not understanding. Especially because I was introduced to the film through a brief lecture on the comparisons and likenesses between this film and Joyce's Ulysses.)
BURGESS, ANTHONY: A CLOCKWORK ORANGE
DICK, PHILIP K: DO ANDROIDS DREAM OF ELECTRIC SHEEP?
Asimov, Isaac: I, Robot
Wyndham, John: The Day of the Triffids
BALLARD, J G: EMPIRE OF THE SUN
Harris, Robert: Enigma
Barker, Pat: Regeneration
Dugain, Marc: The Officers' Ward
I need to get a life.
Monday, November 08, 2004
In a whiff of folly, I decided to enrich the world with the music that makes me go 'hmm'
This list will probably change quite often, become largely ignored, and ultimately forgotten about and left to wither and die. I am fickle.
I've spent most of my morning at work making this list which I believe says more about my work than about my passion for music.
This list will probably change quite often, become largely ignored, and ultimately forgotten about and left to wither and die. I am fickle.
I've spent most of my morning at work making this list which I believe says more about my work than about my passion for music.
Sunday, November 07, 2004
This weekend:
An all-too-brief cuppa cha with Tinka (well, actually, it was coffee),
a shopping expedition that turned into a spree - so much so that my bank, after a couple of hours, declined further card transactions, because the kind folk thought my card had been stolen due to a vast amount of money being withdrawn -
too much food which means I'm now left with a tummy ache
and
still no news on my LRB subscription which, frankly, pisses me off.
Sifting through my bookmarks:
UCL website for any interesting free lunch hour lectures,
Becoming a member at The Other Cinema (which I'm not, but it seems like a perfect birthday present for Other Cinema fanatic colleague)
and
It is to my incredible annoyance that I had to decline to participate in this event (as audience, mind you, not on stage!). I have another engagement, as they say, but would just love to go. One of my goals in life is to touch Seamus Heaney, dontchaknow?
An all-too-brief cuppa cha with Tinka (well, actually, it was coffee),
a shopping expedition that turned into a spree - so much so that my bank, after a couple of hours, declined further card transactions, because the kind folk thought my card had been stolen due to a vast amount of money being withdrawn -
too much food which means I'm now left with a tummy ache
and
still no news on my LRB subscription which, frankly, pisses me off.
Sifting through my bookmarks:
UCL website for any interesting free lunch hour lectures,
Becoming a member at The Other Cinema (which I'm not, but it seems like a perfect birthday present for Other Cinema fanatic colleague)
and
It is to my incredible annoyance that I had to decline to participate in this event (as audience, mind you, not on stage!). I have another engagement, as they say, but would just love to go. One of my goals in life is to touch Seamus Heaney, dontchaknow?
Friday, November 05, 2004
I guess you can choose to sulk for four years, and worry, and make life miserable for yourself.
You can, however, also choose to do something: the resistance lives!
(Canadians only, terms and conditions apply)
You can, however, also choose to do something: the resistance lives!
(Canadians only, terms and conditions apply)
Wednesday, November 03, 2004
I'm feeling sick.
And utterly, utterly depressed.
Not only is the outcome hideous, but the manner in which this so-called voting system works, the corruption of the campaigns (and yes, I'm talking about all implicated) - what is this all about?
And utterly, utterly depressed.
Not only is the outcome hideous, but the manner in which this so-called voting system works, the corruption of the campaigns (and yes, I'm talking about all implicated) - what is this all about?
Tuesday, November 02, 2004
As the film festival is drawing to a close (Thursday night, to be exact), a tiny bit of linkage:
Sideways the Surprise Film - great reviews, I liked Election (a lot) - but really? Sour grapes, perhaps, because I didn't book tickets...
Rockumentary debate live online
Interviews with Kevin Bacon, Wong Kar-Wai and John Heder.
Mike got excited about 2046
Only another year until next time...
Sideways the Surprise Film - great reviews, I liked Election (a lot) - but really? Sour grapes, perhaps, because I didn't book tickets...
Rockumentary debate live online
Interviews with Kevin Bacon, Wong Kar-Wai and John Heder.
Mike got excited about 2046
Only another year until next time...
Monday, November 01, 2004
So here's me, running gauntlet between autograph-hunters, bodyguards and people-carriers. Flashlights go off, I turn and wave, dignified and yet bemused over the commotion.
The crowd ignores me wholeheartedly.
I'm at the UK premiere of The Woodsman and it is a moving and though-provoking film. I want to take this film and show it to the bloodhounds, self-righteous and wicked, who'd rather take the law upon themselves in eye-for-an-eye fashion. I want to demonstrate, through this film, that life and the human mind is not that simple, that we all agree that paedofiles are dangerous, but that the manner in which we engage with them and with the subject must be considered. I do not believe that paedofile registers should ever be released to the general public.
Juxtaposed with this sober subject matter, is the joviality and general sunny disposition exuded by Kevin Bacon & Kyra Sedgwick. There is a certain sense of Hollywood having come to town, but our Kev is from Philly, and NYC, and has a sense of humour.
The following day there is no paparazzi, no actors, and no introductory speeches. Tony Takitani is a film about aloneness and loneliness, beautifully filmed and scored. Extraordinarily literary and very, very stylish (and stylised), if nothing else, this film has made me want to go and read the books of Haruki Murakami.
The crowd ignores me wholeheartedly.
I'm at the UK premiere of The Woodsman and it is a moving and though-provoking film. I want to take this film and show it to the bloodhounds, self-righteous and wicked, who'd rather take the law upon themselves in eye-for-an-eye fashion. I want to demonstrate, through this film, that life and the human mind is not that simple, that we all agree that paedofiles are dangerous, but that the manner in which we engage with them and with the subject must be considered. I do not believe that paedofile registers should ever be released to the general public.
Juxtaposed with this sober subject matter, is the joviality and general sunny disposition exuded by Kevin Bacon & Kyra Sedgwick. There is a certain sense of Hollywood having come to town, but our Kev is from Philly, and NYC, and has a sense of humour.
The following day there is no paparazzi, no actors, and no introductory speeches. Tony Takitani is a film about aloneness and loneliness, beautifully filmed and scored. Extraordinarily literary and very, very stylish (and stylised), if nothing else, this film has made me want to go and read the books of Haruki Murakami.
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