In late December, or possibly early January, I forget which, I found one of my childhood teddy bears and had some sort of epiphany about a part of myself I had lost.
Specifically, that childlike - note, childlike, not childish - part of myself which can still be innocent.
I've expressed this in the last week or so through a couple of media - Pokémon, and tonight (well, late last night I suppose now technically) the film Ghostbusters.
Ghostbusters is the kind of film they don't really make any more outside of Pixar.
Although there's an undertone of Bill Murray's character basically hitting on anything that moves, that aside, Ghostbusters is that rare film that's just outright daftness.
The concept is insane, the characters are almost all idiots, the whole film is crazy and Bill Murray is clearly riffing on every single line in the script, having the time of his life.
But it all comes together to make a film that's not too dumb for adults and not too smart for kids.
As I said, aside from Murray's hitting on people it's totally innocent on every other level.
There's a kind of purity in that; comedy that's just funny and timeless without needing to be breaking the fourth wall or overly shocking or dating itself with political references.
Speaking of purity, I recently started playing through a borrowed Pokémon Yellow on my Game Boy Colour.
For all the offensive nicknames I gave to both my character and Gary's, Pokémon is totally innocent and even pure in so many ways.
I'm not a huge fan of the depressing Lavender Town (ALL MY POKEMON ARE DEAD), but the game is mainly just about running about doing the quests, raising your Pokémon, having fun with it.
The creator of the game always made sure that there was no blood in the game and no Pokémon die in battle, they only ever faint. He said there was too much violence in the world already and I think there's something quietly beautiful in that.
This appreciation of something childlike is something that can go hand in hand with adulthood and maturity and a personality trait we could all use.
I know I've been missing it for far too long.
7 April 2010
24 March 2010
The Cleveland Show
So, Family Guy's very own Cleveland Brown now has his very own show with a much more awesome theme song.
My thoughts on Family Guy are substantially negative at this point. But the last thing I would possibly suggest would be giving Cleveland his own show. That'd be like giving Maggie Simpson her own show.
Or Flanders.
I'm saying it's a bad idea, you see.
Point is, having watched the first ten episodes of The Cleveland Show, I can safely say that it's better than Family Guy.
And worse than Family Guy.
...Bear with me.
Family Guy's problem now is that it's not a TV show, it's 22 jokes shoved together, badly. Storyline is irrelevant.
In that sense, The Cleveland Show is infinitely superior. Cleveland's family actually has issues and storylines actually progress, even if Cleveland has become substantially more of a dislikable idiot since leaving Family Guy.
However, Family Guy's cutaways, as infuriating as they are, are often pretty funny, as much as I hate to admit it.
This is where Cleveland Show fails - it's rarely funny, although there are some occasional home run jokes.
This makes Cleveland Show the superior programme in this writer's humble opinion, but it still has a few problems.
For one thing, Cleveland Show's premise is essentially Family Guy, but black. And with a bear instead of a dog as his best friend.
Either way, why I keep watching it is beyond me. I must suffer from quite extreme boredom.
My thoughts on Family Guy are substantially negative at this point. But the last thing I would possibly suggest would be giving Cleveland his own show. That'd be like giving Maggie Simpson her own show.
Or Flanders.
I'm saying it's a bad idea, you see.
Point is, having watched the first ten episodes of The Cleveland Show, I can safely say that it's better than Family Guy.
And worse than Family Guy.
...Bear with me.
Family Guy's problem now is that it's not a TV show, it's 22 jokes shoved together, badly. Storyline is irrelevant.
In that sense, The Cleveland Show is infinitely superior. Cleveland's family actually has issues and storylines actually progress, even if Cleveland has become substantially more of a dislikable idiot since leaving Family Guy.
However, Family Guy's cutaways, as infuriating as they are, are often pretty funny, as much as I hate to admit it.
This is where Cleveland Show fails - it's rarely funny, although there are some occasional home run jokes.
This makes Cleveland Show the superior programme in this writer's humble opinion, but it still has a few problems.
For one thing, Cleveland Show's premise is essentially Family Guy, but black. And with a bear instead of a dog as his best friend.
Either way, why I keep watching it is beyond me. I must suffer from quite extreme boredom.
27 February 2010
Torture porn
So in the last couple of weeks I've had the 'pleasure' of watching a whole bunch of the horror genre known as 'torture porn' - basically, the first three instalments in the Saw series and Hostel.
It's an 'art' form with virtually no legitimacy, and the critical panning of these films comes as no surprise to me (although I was bemused to find that Hostel got better ratings than the Saw films).
First, let's discuss the Saw films. I expected these to be just mindless bloody violence, and I didn't think I'd even make it through the first one.
I was wrong. Don't misunderstand me, these films have plenty of mindless violence thrown in, searching for that adrenaline rush of horror in the audience.
I was surprised at how psychological they were. Admittedly there are major elements of Seven thrown into them, so to a greater or lesser extent they're ripped off.
However, especially the first Saw has quite an interesting concept, with some fascinating twists; it even has some thriller elements thrown in along with the horror.
The second and third volumes are a bit more torture porn-y, but still not nearly as bad as was implied. By the end of the third film, Jigsaw has taken on a sort of anti-hero status, although thankfully the twist ending puts a stop to that before it goes too far.
All in all, these films are not nearly as bad as people implied they would be. I actually quite liked them. They also have a blackhearted sense of humour that I very much appreciated.
I also approved of how actors from the previous films in the series would return for flashbacks. It adds a sense of legitimacy to building up the series' universe around its characters. Compare that to say, the Nightmare On Elm Street series, in which virtually every new film meant a cast of new actors and characters (bar Robert Englund as Freddie Kreuger).
The first Saw is a genuinely interesting, original film just with some elements of Seven spun into it. The second two are not nearly as good, because the concept's being re-used, and they really aren't that good. But I still liked them quite a bit.
Hostel, on the other hand, I despised. I am staggered that Hostel got reasonable reviews compared to Saw. I suspect this is partly due to the words 'Tarantino,' 'presented,' 'Quentin' and 'by' being involved in its promotion.
It's just mindless sex followed soon after by mindless violence. It's a reprehensible movie without a single a likeable character in it.
I suspect that this is exactly what the film was aiming to achieve, and there were a couple of moments where you actually revel in the violence, much as it pains me to admit it.
But overall, Hostel is simply dumb. There's nothing psychological about it.
It's just making a point that guys who see women as objects should be disemboweled and that humanity in general is disgusting enough to pay good money just for the opportunity to kill someone as a pastime.
It's disgusting, whereas Saw was simply brutal as a result of its storyline.
Once I've watched the second Saw trilogy I'll be sure to report back.
It's an 'art' form with virtually no legitimacy, and the critical panning of these films comes as no surprise to me (although I was bemused to find that Hostel got better ratings than the Saw films).
First, let's discuss the Saw films. I expected these to be just mindless bloody violence, and I didn't think I'd even make it through the first one.
I was wrong. Don't misunderstand me, these films have plenty of mindless violence thrown in, searching for that adrenaline rush of horror in the audience.
I was surprised at how psychological they were. Admittedly there are major elements of Seven thrown into them, so to a greater or lesser extent they're ripped off.
However, especially the first Saw has quite an interesting concept, with some fascinating twists; it even has some thriller elements thrown in along with the horror.
The second and third volumes are a bit more torture porn-y, but still not nearly as bad as was implied. By the end of the third film, Jigsaw has taken on a sort of anti-hero status, although thankfully the twist ending puts a stop to that before it goes too far.
All in all, these films are not nearly as bad as people implied they would be. I actually quite liked them. They also have a blackhearted sense of humour that I very much appreciated.
I also approved of how actors from the previous films in the series would return for flashbacks. It adds a sense of legitimacy to building up the series' universe around its characters. Compare that to say, the Nightmare On Elm Street series, in which virtually every new film meant a cast of new actors and characters (bar Robert Englund as Freddie Kreuger).
The first Saw is a genuinely interesting, original film just with some elements of Seven spun into it. The second two are not nearly as good, because the concept's being re-used, and they really aren't that good. But I still liked them quite a bit.
Hostel, on the other hand, I despised. I am staggered that Hostel got reasonable reviews compared to Saw. I suspect this is partly due to the words 'Tarantino,' 'presented,' 'Quentin' and 'by' being involved in its promotion.
It's just mindless sex followed soon after by mindless violence. It's a reprehensible movie without a single a likeable character in it.
I suspect that this is exactly what the film was aiming to achieve, and there were a couple of moments where you actually revel in the violence, much as it pains me to admit it.
But overall, Hostel is simply dumb. There's nothing psychological about it.
It's just making a point that guys who see women as objects should be disemboweled and that humanity in general is disgusting enough to pay good money just for the opportunity to kill someone as a pastime.
It's disgusting, whereas Saw was simply brutal as a result of its storyline.
Once I've watched the second Saw trilogy I'll be sure to report back.
15 February 2010
The Times
As part of a university assignment, I've been buying The Times every morning for the past week or so, and today I got a welcome surprise on the front page.
Dominic Kennedy, Investigations Editor for The Times was violently ejected from a BNP meeting, left bloodied, bruised and assaulted.
This is no conjecture or libel on my part, as not only have The Times already published these details but the mass media was on hand at the time to take plenty of photos of this taking place.
Obviously, what I'm pleased about isn't the fact that a journalist was unnecessarily roughed up by a group that's too right wing for me to even make jokes about without being personally disgusted.
What I'm pleased about is journalism finally taking a stand for something, and what's more, meaning something for once.
Obviously there will be plenty of examples people will be able to give me of journalism being meaningful and relevant in the last few years.
But all we've been told since hitting university to start a journalism degree is how the industry is going down the toilet and newspapers don't mean anything any more when the internet is so instantaneous.
But here, not only have The Times reported on something brilliantly, they themselves have BECOME the story.
It's a thrilling example of what Hunter S. Thompson called gonzo journalism - the journalist truly becoming the story.
What's more, it's great to see journalists representing enough of a threat to a political party that they saw fit to one out of their meeting with violent force.
The BNP have been gaining momentum recently and hopefully this story will expose them for what they truly are.
Watch this space.
Dominic Kennedy, Investigations Editor for The Times was violently ejected from a BNP meeting, left bloodied, bruised and assaulted.
This is no conjecture or libel on my part, as not only have The Times already published these details but the mass media was on hand at the time to take plenty of photos of this taking place.
Obviously, what I'm pleased about isn't the fact that a journalist was unnecessarily roughed up by a group that's too right wing for me to even make jokes about without being personally disgusted.
What I'm pleased about is journalism finally taking a stand for something, and what's more, meaning something for once.
Obviously there will be plenty of examples people will be able to give me of journalism being meaningful and relevant in the last few years.
But all we've been told since hitting university to start a journalism degree is how the industry is going down the toilet and newspapers don't mean anything any more when the internet is so instantaneous.
But here, not only have The Times reported on something brilliantly, they themselves have BECOME the story.
It's a thrilling example of what Hunter S. Thompson called gonzo journalism - the journalist truly becoming the story.
What's more, it's great to see journalists representing enough of a threat to a political party that they saw fit to one out of their meeting with violent force.
The BNP have been gaining momentum recently and hopefully this story will expose them for what they truly are.
Watch this space.
4 February 2010
Tupac Shakur
Gangsta rap is one of the most divisive genres of music out there. There's not a great deal of grey area in it; people tend to either love it or hate it.
I for one, love it. As previously stated this is mandatory seeing as I'm a suburban white boy but I genuinely think there is a great deal of artistic merit in rap.
Going back to NWA in the late 1980s, rap music had the ability to genuinely scare people and even, if it tried hard enough, effect some kind of social change.
Not that NWA effected social change really, they mostly just rapped about shooting the police. But the visceral thrill of the music remains to this day; most 1970s and 80s party rap has dated badly, but gangsta is truly timeless.
However, no rapper summed up everything good and bad about gangsta rap like Tupac Shakur.
Tupac was a writhing, tattooed contradiction of a man.
He was socially conscious and pro-woman, while indulging in thug life and misogyny.
He was repulsive, yet intelligent and quite brilliant.
He made some of rap's greatest ever music... and after he died people have been pumping out some of its worst with his name stapled to it.
Newcomers to rap often only remember Tupac for the East Coast/West Coast rivalry, but there was far more to him than that.
His first album 2Pacalypse now was a brutal, underground hip-hop record shot through with a political consciousness. Its biggest hit was the teenage-pregnancy lament 'Brenda's Got A Baby,' and that didn't even have a chorus.
He also, of course, made one of rap's singular greatest albums (and its first double) with 1996's All Eyez On Me. Considering he'd been in prison most of the previous year, releasing one of rap's greatest records (as well as another studio album the same year) is pretty impressive.
And Tupac was prolific. As well as creating possibly party-rap's greatest song, 'California Love', that same year, he apparently left some 200 unreleased songs at his death.
Some of those that have been released since have been truly revelatory - 'Changes' is a beautiful piece of work, and 'Ghetto Gospel' was actually pretty good too.
While I think that strictly speaking, The Notorious B.I.G. was the better and moer original rapper, Tupac was clearly the better person, more socially conscious and by far more varied.
I mean, All Eyez On Me, one of rap's high-water marks, was just an album he tossed off to make Death Row Records happy.
Tupac was truly a unique talent, and one of rap's best ever.
But was he THE best ever...?
Photos from flickr.com by jlmaral
I for one, love it. As previously stated this is mandatory seeing as I'm a suburban white boy but I genuinely think there is a great deal of artistic merit in rap.
Going back to NWA in the late 1980s, rap music had the ability to genuinely scare people and even, if it tried hard enough, effect some kind of social change.Not that NWA effected social change really, they mostly just rapped about shooting the police. But the visceral thrill of the music remains to this day; most 1970s and 80s party rap has dated badly, but gangsta is truly timeless.
However, no rapper summed up everything good and bad about gangsta rap like Tupac Shakur.
Tupac was a writhing, tattooed contradiction of a man.
He was socially conscious and pro-woman, while indulging in thug life and misogyny.
He was repulsive, yet intelligent and quite brilliant.
He made some of rap's greatest ever music... and after he died people have been pumping out some of its worst with his name stapled to it.
Newcomers to rap often only remember Tupac for the East Coast/West Coast rivalry, but there was far more to him than that.
His first album 2Pacalypse now was a brutal, underground hip-hop record shot through with a political consciousness. Its biggest hit was the teenage-pregnancy lament 'Brenda's Got A Baby,' and that didn't even have a chorus.
He also, of course, made one of rap's singular greatest albums (and its first double) with 1996's All Eyez On Me. Considering he'd been in prison most of the previous year, releasing one of rap's greatest records (as well as another studio album the same year) is pretty impressive.
And Tupac was prolific. As well as creating possibly party-rap's greatest song, 'California Love', that same year, he apparently left some 200 unreleased songs at his death.
Some of those that have been released since have been truly revelatory - 'Changes' is a beautiful piece of work, and 'Ghetto Gospel' was actually pretty good too.
While I think that strictly speaking, The Notorious B.I.G. was the better and moer original rapper, Tupac was clearly the better person, more socially conscious and by far more varied.
I mean, All Eyez On Me, one of rap's high-water marks, was just an album he tossed off to make Death Row Records happy.
Tupac was truly a unique talent, and one of rap's best ever.
But was he THE best ever...?
Photos from flickr.com by jlmaral
3 February 2010
How To Look Good Naked
Television is a morbid wasteland of shows that are either implying that you look awful (90210), telling you how to look better (adverts in general) or directly telling you that you look awful (The Swan).The latter show I refer to is a hideous programme whereby contestants undergo a horrifying amount of plastic surgery, wardrobe adjustment and hair extensions over a period of weeks in order to change the way they look completely.
The best part of all? If they look at a mirror at any point in the course of the show, they get disqualified.
How disgustingly shallow. It's a genuinely reprehensible idea and I'd like to think that it would never get made in Britain.
How you can show something like that on American TV but a penis is too much to ask anywhere outside of HBO is beyond me.
Which brings me to a television show I'm genuinely positive about and want to encourage people to watch.
Despite my pal Charlie Brooker's apparent hatred of him I genuinely like Gok Wan, and his show How To Look Good Naked is the antithesis of The Swan. For this it should be applauded.
Gok Wan doesn't tell you to lose one hundred pounds, cut your face off and and dye your hair. He tells you that you are lovely just the way you are and gives you the confidence to show it off.
Admittedly, he is a touch misguided at times. In at least one episode he has shown an individual a long lineup of variously sized individuals and asked her what size she thinks she is.
It's meant to indicate how misguided her opinion of herself is. Instead it just kind of insults the overweight individual she compares herself to.
He also managed to completely startle a poor blind woman last night by making a joke at her before introducing himself. He meant well but she clearly didn't reocgnise his voice and the fact that they left it in the show was fairly amusing.
But however stupid some of his decisions may be, Gok's heart is in the right place. Too many women are down on how they look, undeservedly so.
And if this show goes a little way to helping people feel better about themselves without needing to suck stuff out of their body before injecting it back into other areas, I'm all for it.
Photo from flickr.com courtesy of Ugg Boy (have fun doing it)
29 January 2010
Sex and/or the City
HBO is an American television network which deserves some credit.They are basically the last bastion of greatness in American TV.
They showed George Carlin and Bill Hicks specials before both of them went and died.
Virtually every good TV show in the US (including The Wire and The Sopranos) is shown on there.
And one such show is Sex and the City.
Long dismissed by many people as a chick show (focusing too much on the 'City' portion of the show, i.e. shoes and clothes), it's never quite got the credit it truly deserves.
The show is sharp, smart, funny and has some brilliantly written dialogue to boot.
The ups and downs of these four women, three interesting and the main one often incessantly annoying, are surprisingly fascinating.
But the show is worth watching, especially by men, because despite being mostly written and directed by Michael Patrick King, it provides vital insight to womenfolk.
It's also very edgy. It discusses things which most other shows - particularly in America - wouldn't dare discuss.
I'm not sure that on a uni-sanctioned blog I should go into more detail than that.
But their frank discussion of relationships from multiple angles - Miranda's relentless logic, Charlotte's fairy tale dreams, Samantha's libidinous attitude - is truly fascinating.
It also covers the post-relationship blues and on-again/off-again partnerships in a far more convincing way than virtually every other show.
Most of the characters are truly compelling; you can really see where they're coming from and even the less likeable ones - like Carrie. Yeah, I said it - have real motivations that you can understand and sympathise with.
It also features Harry Goldenblatt, for my mind the most likeable, ordinary bloke on television; a genuine role model in some ways.
The movie is a different story, mind. With all the hard edges sanded off and the girl factor upped by a mile, it ties up a lot of necessary plot points and is perfectly watchable. It's also at times genuinely romantic.
But it has nothing on the show, which is brassy, original and realistic. It's also more than wel worth a watch.
Pictures courtesy of Alan Light via www.flickr.com
28 January 2010
Wrestling's not gay.
Wrestling is not gay.
Okay, wrestling is extremely gay.
But not all the time.
I can't exactly deny that a pair of greased-up, musclebound roid-heads rolling around on the mad touching each other inappropriately isn't gay.
However, not every wrestler looks like Ted Dibiase Jnr.
Take, for example, my favourite wrestler - and one of my favourite authors - Mick Foley.
It's not particularly gay to fall off and then through a cage that's a legitimate sixteen feet tall.
TWICE.
Foley is not one of the gay-looking, wrestle-on-the-floor kind of wrestlers. He's an "I spend most of my time falling onto barbed wire" type wrestler.
And by the way, that's all real blood streaming down his face. Feel free to root around on youtube if you don't believe me, but unless Foley spends his whole time covered in blood packs, I think he's shed some real blood.
Oh, and he's MISSING AN EAR due to a match in Hamburg in 1994, against a guy called Vader. Vader is a wrestler who's known for being tough in the ring, and he demands no less from his opponents - to the extent that he once almost got his eye punched out in the ring.
Then he finished the match.
But enough about the tough stuff of wrestling. Wrestling's not all about barbed wire, blood and setting each other on fire.
It's also about being utterly, utterly daft.
It's like Eastenders in tights, it's the height of ridiculousness. And it's just stupid fun.
If you can't enjoy watching a 25-stone man throwing a bin at a midget funny, then there's something wrong with your very soul.
Wrestling's not gay (all the time), it's just stupid. It also features pretty staggering displays of athleticism at times and every once in a while, genuinely emotional moments.
As far as the 'it's all fake' arguments, I have two things to add.
Firstly, find a metal folding chair and get hit with it. And before you go on about a 'fake chair,' watch some original ECW. Is every damn chair in that arena fake? Because they all get used.
Secondly, everything is fake. TV is fake. Movies are fake. Actors don't do their own stunts (much). It's all fake emotion, fake entertainment.
There's nothing wrong with wrestling. It's not gay, it's just dumb.
And it's also incredibly entertaining.
Okay, wrestling is extremely gay.
But not all the time.
I can't exactly deny that a pair of greased-up, musclebound roid-heads rolling around on the mad touching each other inappropriately isn't gay.
However, not every wrestler looks like Ted Dibiase Jnr.
Take, for example, my favourite wrestler - and one of my favourite authors - Mick Foley.
It's not particularly gay to fall off and then through a cage that's a legitimate sixteen feet tall.
TWICE.
Foley is not one of the gay-looking, wrestle-on-the-floor kind of wrestlers. He's an "I spend most of my time falling onto barbed wire" type wrestler.
And by the way, that's all real blood streaming down his face. Feel free to root around on youtube if you don't believe me, but unless Foley spends his whole time covered in blood packs, I think he's shed some real blood.
Oh, and he's MISSING AN EAR due to a match in Hamburg in 1994, against a guy called Vader. Vader is a wrestler who's known for being tough in the ring, and he demands no less from his opponents - to the extent that he once almost got his eye punched out in the ring.
Then he finished the match.
But enough about the tough stuff of wrestling. Wrestling's not all about barbed wire, blood and setting each other on fire.
It's also about being utterly, utterly daft.
It's like Eastenders in tights, it's the height of ridiculousness. And it's just stupid fun.
If you can't enjoy watching a 25-stone man throwing a bin at a midget funny, then there's something wrong with your very soul.
Wrestling's not gay (all the time), it's just stupid. It also features pretty staggering displays of athleticism at times and every once in a while, genuinely emotional moments.
As far as the 'it's all fake' arguments, I have two things to add.
Firstly, find a metal folding chair and get hit with it. And before you go on about a 'fake chair,' watch some original ECW. Is every damn chair in that arena fake? Because they all get used.
Secondly, everything is fake. TV is fake. Movies are fake. Actors don't do their own stunts (much). It's all fake emotion, fake entertainment.
There's nothing wrong with wrestling. It's not gay, it's just dumb.
And it's also incredibly entertaining.
26 January 2010
Outstanding American visual media
I'm going to be positive about something today.
I feel like I've been negative for a while, so I'm going to talk about nice happy, shiny things.
Today's nice, happy, shiny thing is Little Miss Sunshine.
A 2007 film with an all-star cast including Steve Carell and Greg Kinnear, it follows a disfunctional family road-tripping across America to take their youngest girl to compete in a child's beauty pageant.
That plot summary reads like it would be horrifying, and between Carell and Kinnear there have been some truly awful films.
But Little Miss Sunshine is quite unlike the majority of the films I've seen in my life.
Every member of the family, from Carell's suicidal professor to Kinnear's relentless self-help guru has a fully-rounded character.
You can tell where they're coming from even if you don't agree with it (or rather, even if you don't agree with Kinnear, because it's him you'll hate).
The best character by far is the grandfather, played by Alan Arkin, who as well as delivering some truly grand-slam bits of dialogue ("I still have Nazi bullets in my ass!") is genuinely likable despite snorting heroin in his spare time.
It also never goes quite where you expect it to, despite how easy it would be for it to. I won't say any more lest I spoil the rest of the film.
But what truly makes this movie great is that it's understated.
Understated television and film is rare in America. This isn't necessarily a fault of the audience, as the executives have always been pandering to the lowest common denominators.
Little Miss Sunshine is funny without being slapstick or out and out farce, the comedy just bubbles under the surface. The characters don't leave gaps in the dialogue for you to laugh. And it doesn't talk down to you.
Another American production which should be praised for how understated is The Wire.
Charlie Brooker reckons it's the best TV show ever made and similar praise was lavished on it by The Chris Mayer Experience.
If that's not enough, here I am again telling you how great it is.
Although not a comedy, the characters in The Wire again all have motivations and reasoning that makes even the ones you hate a little bit likable.
Little Miss Sunshine, The Wire; America could do with more TV shows and films like this.
I feel like I've been negative for a while, so I'm going to talk about nice happy, shiny things.
Today's nice, happy, shiny thing is Little Miss Sunshine.
A 2007 film with an all-star cast including Steve Carell and Greg Kinnear, it follows a disfunctional family road-tripping across America to take their youngest girl to compete in a child's beauty pageant.
That plot summary reads like it would be horrifying, and between Carell and Kinnear there have been some truly awful films.
But Little Miss Sunshine is quite unlike the majority of the films I've seen in my life.
Every member of the family, from Carell's suicidal professor to Kinnear's relentless self-help guru has a fully-rounded character.
You can tell where they're coming from even if you don't agree with it (or rather, even if you don't agree with Kinnear, because it's him you'll hate).
The best character by far is the grandfather, played by Alan Arkin, who as well as delivering some truly grand-slam bits of dialogue ("I still have Nazi bullets in my ass!") is genuinely likable despite snorting heroin in his spare time.
It also never goes quite where you expect it to, despite how easy it would be for it to. I won't say any more lest I spoil the rest of the film.
But what truly makes this movie great is that it's understated.
Understated television and film is rare in America. This isn't necessarily a fault of the audience, as the executives have always been pandering to the lowest common denominators.
Little Miss Sunshine is funny without being slapstick or out and out farce, the comedy just bubbles under the surface. The characters don't leave gaps in the dialogue for you to laugh. And it doesn't talk down to you.
Another American production which should be praised for how understated is The Wire.
Charlie Brooker reckons it's the best TV show ever made and similar praise was lavished on it by The Chris Mayer Experience.
If that's not enough, here I am again telling you how great it is.
Although not a comedy, the characters in The Wire again all have motivations and reasoning that makes even the ones you hate a little bit likable.
Little Miss Sunshine, The Wire; America could do with more TV shows and films like this.
24 January 2010
Hooters
I'm Nottingham born and bred despite what little my accent may betray. Yet despite this I've never really been on a 'night out' in Nottingham.
On a weekend back to the homeland with the missus and bridesmaids to try our wedding meal, a friend of Cambridge Girl In Preston said he'd show us round a bit.
But we cared not for that. The first thing we wanted to do was go to Hooters.
And yes, by 'we,' I refer to myself, my wife-to-be, two other women and a guy three of us had only just met.
It's always a rowdy night at Hooters, right?
Wrong.
I'm not sure I've ever found a building or its contents as depressing as I did Hooters.
Apart from the fact that one drink cost me £3.55, the place was just awful on every level.
The girls looked like they had somehow been airbrushed in person. And some of them clearly considered this 'their living,' as at least one of them had giant fake breasts stapled onto their beampole frames.
Despite this, they were all utterly miserable. I don't think I've ever been less enthusiastic about seeing a scantily clad woman.
The whole place reeked of sleaze (although that shouldn't have been unexpected). But the problem with it was, it felt quite unlike a strip club.
Strip clubs are a niche market. They know what they're about and what you go there to do, so they carry themselves with a certain level of class.
Hooters is a poor man's strip club. People go there because they haven't got the guts to go to a real strip club, and they ogel women who have no class, but still have enough class not to actually get naked.
It's purgatory, basically.
And I for one don't care to repeat the experience.
On a weekend back to the homeland with the missus and bridesmaids to try our wedding meal, a friend of Cambridge Girl In Preston said he'd show us round a bit.
But we cared not for that. The first thing we wanted to do was go to Hooters.
And yes, by 'we,' I refer to myself, my wife-to-be, two other women and a guy three of us had only just met.
It's always a rowdy night at Hooters, right?
Wrong.
I'm not sure I've ever found a building or its contents as depressing as I did Hooters.
Apart from the fact that one drink cost me £3.55, the place was just awful on every level.
The girls looked like they had somehow been airbrushed in person. And some of them clearly considered this 'their living,' as at least one of them had giant fake breasts stapled onto their beampole frames.
Despite this, they were all utterly miserable. I don't think I've ever been less enthusiastic about seeing a scantily clad woman.
The whole place reeked of sleaze (although that shouldn't have been unexpected). But the problem with it was, it felt quite unlike a strip club.
Strip clubs are a niche market. They know what they're about and what you go there to do, so they carry themselves with a certain level of class.
Hooters is a poor man's strip club. People go there because they haven't got the guts to go to a real strip club, and they ogel women who have no class, but still have enough class not to actually get naked.
It's purgatory, basically.
And I for one don't care to repeat the experience.
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