We arrange our programme 6 months at a time, and since it's the start of July, we're just finalising the list of shows for the rest of the year. After a couple of discussions and some email back-and-forth, we have agreed our selection. We think it's a pretty well balanced programme, so read of if you want some ideas for what to see.

We're starting with a list of 8 shows, although we retain the right to add shows later in the year! So here's the shows, and why we think they're great... obviously this relies on there being sufficient ticket availability but I'm hopeful.

1. Joseph & The Technicolor Dreamcoat (Adelphi Theatre)
This is the 2nd show to have come from the BBC's musical reality TV show with Andrew Lloyd Webber - 'Any Dream Will Do', and therefore stars the series winner, Lee Mead. 

The show opened back in July last year, but the clamour for tickets has been so great that we only ended up booking our trip for this year (the only performances that had enough availability for our group were those when Lee is on holiday, and that wasn't a very popular choice!).

If you want to know more about the show, or the production itself, I'd encourage you to take a look at the production's official website.

If you want to know what all the fuss is about, it might be worth checking out one of the show's reviews - not everyone was positive (Michael Billington of the Guardian didn't like it), but The Telegraph, The Times and Sunday Times were all impressed.

To be honest, it didn't really matter what the critics said though - this was always going to be a hit with the public after the popularity of the BBC series that 'discovered' Lee. As someone that supported Lee all the way through the series, I'm looking forward to seeing him on stage.

2. Twelfth Night (Regent's Park Open Air Theatre)
For those of you that haven't been to the Open Air Theatre before, it's a beautiful venue in the middle of Regent's Park. Given that there's no roof, the experience can be somewhat dependent on the British summer - on a nice summer evening, it's a really magical place to watch theatre.

The theatre has a new Artistic Director this year - Timothy Sheader was previously as Assistant Director at the RSC for 2 years, so he was a natural choice for a theatre with a strong Shakespeare heritage. Twelfth Night is just one of three Shakespeare plays in this year's programme - the others are Romeo and Juliet and A Midsummer Night's Dream in case you're interested.

Since the show is already open, you can already check out the reviews. Jeremy Kingston in the Times was the biggest fan, giving the show 4 stars, and closing with "it comes as an amazing pleasure to see such a well-thought-out and convincing production as this." The critics at the Guardian and the Independent weren't as fulsome in their praise, but the strength of the cast is enough for me to want to see the show.

Tickets for all this summer's shows are available direct from the theatre's website

3. They're Playing Our Song (Menier Chocolate Factory)
I've already written a post about this upcoming production, so to save me repeating myself, you can find it here.

In short - I think this is going to be a fantastic production - it's a great show, written by Marvin Hamlisch and Carole Bayer Sager, with a very witty book by Neil Simon. The casting is also spot on, with Connie Fisher (in her first performance since The Sound of Music) joined by Alistair McGowan who has recently been seen in Little Shop of Horrors and Cabaret. For more coverage on the show after it was announcement, check out What's On Stage or Daily Telegraph.

In case you're wondering why I'm so confident about this show, it's simple - the Menier hasn't yet got it wrong with its choice of musicals. Since 2005, they've introduced London to the brilliant Jason Robert Brown, revived Little Shop of Horrors and create a phenomenal revival of Sondheim's Sunday in the Park with George that transferred to Broadway and ended up with a stack of Tony nominations. I certainly wouldn't bet against They're Playing Our Song being another hit...

4. Now or Later (Royal Court Theatre)
To be honest, I hadn't actually heard anything about this show until someone else at work mentioned it to me, but given that the play is on at the Royal Court, it's less likely to receive mass media coverage than a new musical.

On closer inspection, it turns out that the cast includes a young British actor, Eddie Redmayne, who I went to college with. Since graduating 5 years' ago, he seems to have been spending most of time making films (his Wikipedia profile lists 10 films, including 'The Other Boleyn Girl').

He is also clearly a very accomplished stage actor - he won a number of awards for his performance in Edward Albee's The Goat. I didn't catch that production unfortunately, but I did see him in Hecuba at the Donmar Warehouse a few years' back, and it's good to see that he is still doing theatre alongside his film work.

The subject-matter of the play will almost certainly grab some attention - it's set on US election night, which seems like rather astute timing from Dominic Cooke, the theatre's Artistic Director, who is also directing this production.

For more about the play, or to book tickets, check out the Royal Court's website  

5. War Horse (National Theatre)
War Horse has already had a hugely successful, sell-out run at the National Theatre last year, but for some reason, I never got round to seeing the show last time around. Thankfully, Nicholas Hytner recently announced that Marianne Elliott and Tom Morris' production will be returning to the Olivier Theatre in September.

The show got 5-star reviews from The Times and Sunday Times amongst others, so it's very excited that anyone that missed it last time has another chance to see the show.

The life-size puppets received much praise last-time round - if you're keen to see what they looked like, there's a full picture gallery in guardian.co.uk.

One last bonus for War Horse - it's going to be the first production that runs on Sundays at the National as part of their new plans to make the theatre a 7-day operation. As if you needed another excuse to make a trip to the South Bank!

6. Jersey Boys (Prince Edward Theatre)
Jersey Boys opened in London back in March, having already been hugely successful on the other side of the pond.

The show tells the story of Franki Valli and the Four Seasons, using their own songs. Whilst it may yet another jukebox musical (London has far too many of them for my liking), there are no complaints about the soundtrack - songs include 'Sherry', 'Can't Take My Eyes off You' and 'Walk Like a Man'. You can find out more about the show (and see some video clips) on the official website.

To find out what the critics thought of the show, check out my review round-up here. In case you're wondering though, there's plenty of positive in there, hence why it's on my list!

7. Oedipus (National Theatre)
There hasn't been that much coverage about Oedipus yet, mainly because it's not yet on sale and doesn't open until October.

However, it's part of what Nicholas Hytner considers "the most ambitious year since I became the National's director" and will almost certainly be a hot ticket. You can find the press release of the season's announcement here, or responses in the Independent or The Stage.

Ralph Fiennes will be playing the title role, returning to the stage after his critically-acclaimed performance in Yasmina Reza's God of Carnage. He will be joined in the cast by Clare Higgins, whose performance in Hecuba in 2005 won numerous plaudits. The show will be directed by Jonathan Kent, who has spent the last year as Director at the Theatre Royal Haymarket, most recently directing Marguerite.

Keep your eyes peeled to make sure you get a ticket as soon as it goes on sale.

8. Ivanov (Donmwar West End, Wyndham's Theatre) 
Not content with running one of London's best theatres, Michael Grandage has taken on a year's lease at the Wyndham's Theatre in the West End. The Donmar is producing 4 shows, each starring at least one big name, under the Donmar West End banner. You can read more about the season here

There's a fantastic set of shows, starting with a new verion of Checkhov's Ivanov, which will star Kenneth Branagh in the leading role. Full casting was announced in the last 2 weeks, with Branagh joined by two rising stars - Tom Hiddleston (Cassio in the Donmar's recent production of Othello and Andrea Riseborough (after her recent screen portrayal of Margaret Thatcher).

Grandage will direct the show himself, and if you're still wavering, it's worth noting that the Donmar West End season will keep prices down, just as it does as it's home venue. The most expensive seats in the house will be just £32.50, a bargain for a West End show at the moment, especially for one which such a big name in the leading role.

 So, there you have the choice of 8 shows for the rest of this year. Feel free to let me know what you think.

********************************************************************************
Reminder - planned trips
Joseph & The Technicolor Dreamcoat (Adelphi Theatre)
Twelth Night (Regent's Park Open Air Theatre)
They're Playing Our Song (Menier Chocolate Factory)
Now or Later (Royal Court Theatre)
War Horse (National Theatre)
Jersey Boys (Prince Edward Theatre)
Oedipus (National Theatre)
Ivanov (Donmwar West End, Wyndham's Theatre) 

Here's two excerpts from Love's Labour's Lost (2000) film adaptation, directed by and starring Kenneth Branagh:

#1

#2

Longest Words in English Top 14:

• Longest Word in English No. 1
• Longest Word in English No. 2
• Longest Word in English No. 3
• Longest Word in English No. 4
• Longest Word in English No. 5
• Longest Word in English No. 6
• Longest Word in English No. 7
• Longest Word in English No. 8
• Longest Word in English No. 9
• Longest Word in English No. 10
• Longest Word in English No. 11
• Longest Word in English No. 12
• Longest Word in English No. 13
• Longest Word in English No. 14

#1: Doorwerken tot 4u 's nachts heeft achteraf bekeken bitter weinig voordelen.

#2: Doorwerken tot 4u 's nachts, terwijl je de volgende dag evenveel moet presteren al zeker niet.

#3: Examens leesvaardigheid in mekaar boksen vergt veel tijd.

#4: Zodanig doorwerken dat je vergeet om printpapier te gaan en cartridges: very bad idea.

#5: Examenperiodes sucken niet alleen voor de leerlingen. (In de krant stond trouwens dat wij, leerkrachten, meer begrip moeten opbrengen voor onze blokkende pupillen... doe ik, DOE ik!)

En dan nu...

eindelijk...

... to sleep... per chance to dream... ai, there's the rub...

1) This afternoon I filmed a music video with Corey, but the editing of it will not be finished tonight, due to an excruciating migraine that I developed some twelve hours ago and it continues to eat away at my brain. I am very excited to finally find myself picking up the camera again. The footage was fun and will be even more of a good time to edit, which I entirely miss doing. I can say that you will want to check it out upon its completion, which will most likely be tomorrow. It features a song by Dan Deacon.

2) I have officially put an end to the disease of being unable to watch films at home, which I was diagnosed with several months ago. It is unknown as to what the cure to this was, but I am happy to say that I came out of it all without entering chemotherapy. It is a great feeling to be watching some of the films I missed out on lately.

3) In the very, very near future I will have consistent time with an awesome new laptop, which I am confident will help me finally make good on my promise to deliver more frequent reviews on this establishment. I think there's no betting against the combination of Panera Bread, dark and vibrantly brewed coffee, an XPS laptop, and me. I will make it happen.

4) A list of the films that I have viewed in the past five days, all of which I plan to have words to write about and to make available for you to read...

5.21: Hannah Takes the Stairs
5.21: George A. Romero's Diary of the Dead
5.22: Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull
5.22: Wristcutters: A Love Story
5.23: The Diving Bell and the Butterfly
5.23: Delirious
5.23: Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull
5.24: Teeth
5.25: The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford
5.26: You Kill Me
5.26: Sleuth
5.26: The Hunting Party

5A) Tomorrow, two good things will be happening. Immediately when I wake up I will be going to rent the three films that are seeing new release and that I have been anticipating for months. The one that is most desired is the James C. Strouse-directed, John Cusack-acted, and Clint Eastwood-scored, Grace Is Gone. It was sadly never released at the Keystone Art Cinema as it was promised. The same has also happened with this year's David Gordon Green-directed Snow Angels, which I will never fully get over. If you know me, then chances are you know that Cusack has always been one of the highest actors on my list, and with this newest role being considered among his best, I cannot wait for tomorrow morning. Another film on the list of three promising releases this week is Woody Allen's latest effort, another attempt at all-out drama, Cassandra's Dream. It had a couple weeks of runtime earlier this year at the Art Cinema, but I just couldn't manage to make it out. Tomorrow I will watch it and give my apologies to the great Allen for missing my first film of his in theaters since 1999's Sweet and Lowdown. The third film of the trio, and the one I chose to watch as the finale of them all, is Paul Schrader's The Walker, in which it seems Woody Harrelson gets another chance at a significantly dominant starring role in the vein of Natural Born Killers, and The People vs. Larry Flynt. Perhaps I am saving the best for last? I will soon find out.

5B) Later on in the day I will be going to an interview, which I fully expect to nail in the easiest of ways. Needless to say at this point, I am extremely unhappy with my IMAX projectionist job...or was I extremely unhappy with the IMAX projectionist job that I spontaneously quit? If that question lingers inside your head as you're reading this, then there is even more reason to watch the music video Corey and I filmed today. The answer is there. Anyway, some new directions will most likely be starting tomorrow, regardless.

6) I have become exhausted with the A-F rating system that I have used on films for the past I don't know how long. I have reached back to the 1-4 stars that I began with in the very beginning...I'm talking about classic Frankton High School "Fergy Reviews" column days. How has it already been 8 years since journalism class? That's sort of scary.

7) Last weekend, filming began on the latest full-length Neckbrace Substitute film. I will not reveal much on this under-wraps project, but I will tell you that it is a documentary collaboration with Tony Marshall and an extension of various members of his family. I hope you all will watch when we finish it in July and have it available later that month.

That is all that seems to be happening right now. I am happy that things are apparently keeping my mind occupied on being productive. FERGUSON REVIEWS will not fall into nothingness with constant delays between posts. I am making this a place to cuddle up in and stay. Grab a beverage or something and make yourself feel at home. What's mine is yours.

According to David Merchant's website on Memorial Day History, the day appears to have originated in any number of cities and towns following the Civil War; what all the places had in common, however, was the coming together of people to honor those who had died serving our nation during wartime. The day was officially proclaimed and observed in 1868, with all the Northern states recognizing the day by 1890. The South honored their dead on a separate day until after World War I. We can thank Congress for our three-day weekend, who in its National Holiday Act of 1971, deemed that the holiday would be celebrated on the last Monday in May.

For your Memorial Day inspiration, consider the words of William Shakespeare from his play Henry V; or if it serves you better to hear the cadence of the words, watch Kenneth Branagh breathe life into the speech in his most excellent film adaptation of the play:

From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered--
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers,
For he today that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition.
And gentlemen in England now abed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's Day.

For all who have given their lives in service of this country, thank you.

Kenneth Branagh usually comes up with some interesting directorial strategies. The trouble is, they usually don't work, and neither do the films. He's inventive, ambitious, and courageous, but I somehow never feel he's a natural film-maker.

Nevertheless, some critics were perhaps too nasty about SLEUTH. The film unites an interesting bunch of people, looks very handsome, and is easy enough to watch. There are good bits. Harold Pinter's reworking of Anthony Shaffer's play is often amusing.

JL: "Maggie never told me you were... such a manipulator. She told me you were no good in bed, but she never told me you were such a manipulator."
MC: "She told you I was no good in bed?"
JL: "Oh, yes."
MC: "She was joking. I'm wonderful in bed."
JL: "I must tell her."

As in the original, a successful thriller writer confronts the much younger man who has made off with his wife, and a variety of vicious mind-games are played. Pinter dispenses with Shaffer's critique of the English mystery novel tradition, leaving the piece as simply another Pinter power-play of pauses. Even the title becomes irrelevant.

One can't escape the fact that the gimmick casting -- Michael Caine returns from the original Joe Mankiewicz version, but playing the other part, Jude Law, who's already played a Caine role in the ALFIE remake, plays Caine's part from the original --  is a titillating concept, but not necessarily the best way to fill the parts. Olivier, in the original film, stood boldly for the English establishment, and Caine was the working-class upstart -- it was almost too perfect. With cockney Caine as the rich author and the vaguely classless Law as his romantic rival, the distinction is lost. But more important is what Branagh can get out of these actors in the way of acting.

Caine starts off like he's trying for poshness, perhaps imitating Alan Bates (a fine interpreter of Pinter), which is a bit queasy. The it starts to feel like he doesn't know his lines well enough -- little hesitations and bodging of the difficult bits are either methody additions or genuine screw-ups, and either way they're harmful to Pinter's rhythms. But gradually Caine's undiminished charm and inexplicable authority work their spell, and he becomes enjoyable.

Law is fine when he underplays, and rather embarassing when he tries too hard. He's a star when he just holds the camera's gaze. Some insecurity forces him to spoil it by doing stuff, and the effort shows. He's probably most useful when he's being tormented by Caine, since some evil part of this viewer derives some pleasure from seeing Law having a hard time. Later, he will do foolish things with a loaded pistol, much like the detective in PLAN 9 FROM OUTER SPACE.

Nobody would call this prime Pinter. Although the Great Man has written screen thrillers successfully in the past (THE QUILLER MEMORANDUM, under-valued) here there are odd, damaging implausibilities. Why does Caine have an automated rope ladder in his stately home? Why does Law take his gun from his holster for no reason, lay it on the bed for no reason, thus allowing Caine to grab it at the climax? That's quite bad playwriting, or direction.

What makes the film watchable? The set, designed by Branagh's regular collaborator Tim Harvey, is very nice, all shiny surfaces and disco lighting, and the photography of Haris Zambarloukos serves up innumerable great widescreen close-ups. But the James Bond lair doesn't make much sense, and is part of the overall watering-down of Shaffer's original concept, the conflict between tradition and progress. The Bond vibe is both apt and ironic, since original Bond designer Ken Adam created the look of the original SLEUTH,

The stylised environment is doubtless meant to provide a comfortable setting for the stylised talk, but Pinter's verbal gymnastics are defiantly archaic, and sound more so amid these glossy surfaces and pointless hi-tech appurtenances. I'm reminded of the grand staircase in FRANCIS FORD COPPOLA'S KENNETH BRANAGH'S MARY SHELLEY'S FRANKENSTEIN (I think that's the full title), which has no bannister and makes you nervous to look at it. It's quite an interesting effect, but you can't help wonder WHY would anybody have a stair like that in their house?

This next is a bit spoilerific -- if you've read the above and still plan on seeing SLEUTH, skip this last stuff.

Full disclosure -- Stephen Murphy, prosthetic makeup artist for Jude Law, did the make-up on my clown film and is a good friend. He's been working on HARRY POTTERS and stuff, turning ex-porn dwarfs into goblins, working his way up, and this is is his biggest job yet. Oddly, the transformation reminds me of another make-up creation, even though Stephen didn't design the Law job.

It's the Ringo Starr/Mexican bandit look Stephen created for Alice Bicknell in my film CLARIMONDE using mainly liquid latex and wet tissue paper. I'm also reminded of another makeup creation, Reece Shearsmith as Geoff Tipps in THE LEAGUE OF GENTLEMEN:

Even the voice is the same! The transformation works OK until Law starts overdoing it again, which makes him more recognisable. Stephen reports that Law was a very nice chap to work with, which is about what I'd expect, actually. Hitting the odd paparazzo doesn't make him a bad guy, in fact I give him points for it, even though I'm anti-violence.

In the original SLEUTH, make-up artist Tom Smith, required to transform Michael Caine completely, executed a self-portrait, changing Caine into a Smith clone. I asked Stephen if he'd been tempted to do the same, but alas, he hadn't known. What might have been REALLY interesting would have been if the remake's make-up DESIGNER, Eileen Kastner-Delago, had given Law a sex change and made him over in her own image.

Sexual ambiguity does enter the picture in the last act, with both Caine and Law suggesting bisexual sides, a motif borrowed from Sidney Lumet and Ira levin's DEATHTRAP, the low-rent version of SLEUTH -- Caine, having kissed Christopher "Superman" Reeve, now kisses "Sky Captain". But this additional twist leads to no new dramatic suspense, and certainly doesn't carry the mild shock value it did in 1982 ("But it's so juicy," Lumet pleaded, when Reeve objected to the kiss). As with the despised DIABOLIQUE, the re-makers try to preserve the twist surprise by adding a further wrinkle to the already-creased story, but it does nothing but drag the film long past its emotional climax... which is about half an hour in.

For all that, the film is diverting, short, and at least it has a different set of flaws from the ones we're used to seeing all the time. Any bets on what the next Michael Caine remake will be?

Kenneth Branaghs karriär som regissör är en ganska ojämn historia som blandar väl ansedda Shakespearefilmatiseringar (som Henry V eller Mycket väsen för ingenting) med fiaskon som Mary Shelley's Frankenstein.

Allmänt bortglömd i all anspråkslöshet är dock en av pärlorna på hans meritlista, en svartvit komedi betitlad In the Bleak Midwinter (eller A Midwinter's Tale om man väljer den amerikanska titeln) från 1995.

Det här är en underhållande historia om ett hastigt sammansatt teatersällskap som ger sig på att sätta upp Hamlet (vad annars?) kring jul i en dragig gammal kyrka ute på den brittiska landsbygden. Primus motor är den arbetslöse skådespelaren Joe och de aktörer och medarbetare han får tag på är inte direkt a-listan. Naturligtvis blommar konflikter och egenheter i den excentriska ensemblen samtidigt som premiärkvällen obönhörligen närmar sig.

Det vore fel att påstå att det här är en direkt originell film - vi känner igen åtskilliga av inslagen från andra showbusiness-berättelser. Däremot är det en väldigt rolig liten sak som driver med hela den märkliga teatervärlden och de människor som befolkar den på ett mycket kärleksfullt sätt. Det är lite kulturfars över det hela. "Spinal Tap for the Shakespeare set", som någon recensent tydligen uttryckte sig enligt trailern.

Ensemblen består huvudsakligen av brittiska skådisar som man kanske känner igen men inte vet namnet på. Undantagen är framför allt Joan Collins och Jennifer Saunders som dyker upp mot slutet. Samtliga gör dock ett utmärkt jobb.

Och nej, den finns förstås inte på dvd. Har du tur dyker den kanske upp i tv endera året, sannolikt halv tre på natten.

Andra bloggar om film, filmtips, komedi, kenneth branagh, in the bleak midwinter

4 Months, 3 Weeks, 2 Days is a critically acclaimed, Palme d'Or winning Romanian drama about illegal abortions during the Ceausescu regime - which sounds about as much fun as actually being there and yet the reviews seem to be universally great as the film apparently works as a piece of pure cinema and not just the 'issues' movie that it could have been in less confident hands.

To lighten the mood a bit we have Waitress and I'm a Cyborg; two very different but equally quirky love stories.  Now I realise that the word 'quirky' can be a turn off but these two films prove that it can work wonders when done right.  The former is the story of pie obsessed waitress (the cooking not eating variety) who gets pregnant whilst having an affair with her doctor.  It is an odd film but well worth checking out for the excellent cast (incl. Firefly's Nathan Fillion) and upbeat philosophy.  I'm A Cyborg is the latest barrel of weirdness from Park Chan-wook (Oldboy) and centres on a girl who believes herself to be a cyborg (hence the title) and the schizophrenic who befriends her.  Like the director's previous titles this is stuff that you are either into or not and if you are into it, as I am, then you are in for a treat.

Linking this week's new releases to re-releases is Sleuth, a film about which it is polite to say as little as possible so as not to ruin it for those that have not yet had the pleasure.  I haven't yet seen the new Michael Caine / Jude Law version (released this week) but I can tell you that the Laurence Olivier / Michael Caine version (re-released this week) is a cracking piece of work and so I am half intrigued to see what screenwriter Harold Pinter and director Kenneth Branagh have done with it and half dreading the presence of Jude Law (a great British actor cursed with never having made a truly classic film - also see Richard Burton).

This week's other re-releases include the beautiful Lancelot du Lac and a special edition of the very special Assault On Precinct 13, but the best one surely has to be the Sergei Eisenstein: Vol 2 - Historical Epics boxset.  This collection of the soviet director's best works (i.e Alexander Nevsky, Ivan The Terrible and Ivan The Terrible Part 2: The Boyars Plot) shows a master film-maker at the top of his game - if you like film then you are duty bound to watch these and cower in their towering intellect and audacity.

Finally, there is the documentary Zizek.  If you do not know who Slavoj Zizek is, find a copy of The Pervert's Guide To Cinema (clips can be seen here) and you will be smitten enough to check out this documentary.

Cruise as Colonel Claus von Stauffenberg

It's a story that should be done, and one that is really interesting. Will the execution be there? who knows. Tom Cruise is the one producing it under his newly resurrected United Artists production company. The last movie he came out with "Lions for Lambs" flopped big time, but many argue that it could have been a case of right movie, wrong time.

As with "Lions for Lambs," "Valkyrie" has an impressive cast both in front of and behind the camera. Check out these names: (With movie credits that I've personally seen)
Bryan Singer - Director (X-men, X2, The Usual Suspects, Apt Pupil)
Christopher McQuarrie - Co-Writer (The Usual Suspects, The Way of the Gun)

Actors:
Tom Cruise- Colonel Claus von Stauffenberg (MI: 1-3, Minority Report, Vanilla Sky)
Kenneth Branagh- Henning von Tresckow (Henry V, Much Ado About Nothing, Shackleton)
Tom Wilkinson - Friedrick Fromm (Batman Begins, The Exorcism of Emily Rose)
Bill Nighy- Friedrich Olbricht (Underworld, Pirates of the Caribbean 2-3, Shaun of the Dead)

His foolery and Scientology freakiness aside, in my humble opinion, Tom Cruise can act. Watch "Eyes Wide Shut," "Vanilla Sky," or "Minority Report" without prejudice and tell me he can't? All 3 really great movies that I can't imagine someone else playing his role.

Will the movie flop? Who knows. I know alot of movie goers are sick of hearing about him and so get turned off when the prospect of one of his movies comes around.  I just watched the trailer for Valkyrie. I'm not going to be the first in line to watch it opening weekend, but I do want to see it in the theatre when it comes out. (I'll be saving my "Opening night" money on "The Dark Knight" by the way, but that's another story!)

...Ja My Life in Film hyvästelty toistamiseen. En tiedä ovatko sarjan suomalaisfanit jo löytäneet BBC:n ikivanhat entiset nettisivut MLiF:lle, mutta kun itsekin löysin ne vasta äskettäin niin jospa oletan että aivan kaikki eivät ole niistä kuulleet. Käy aikasi kuluksi, löytyy kivoja stillkuvia, käsikirjoittajan suppeaa making of -blogia, storyboardeja ynnä muuta.
Kiitän vielä kerran oivasta uusinnasta. En ole kuullut mitään huhuja DVD-julkaisusta, niisk.
(Kyllä vain, Bethin kädessä on kuvaan päässyt Hugo-kala.)

* * *

Jäikö memmaa yli, mutta maito/kerma ja sokeri sapettavat jo lisukkeina? Kohtasin eeppisellä Ylläksenmatkallani helpon jälkkärin, jonka mämmi-appelsiini -makuyhdistelmä oli jotain mitä en aikaisemmin ollut tullut ajatelleeksikaan. Pitkitäpä päänsisäisjuhlimista tällä reseptillä:

1/3 mämmiä
2/3 tiikerijäätelöä
^Mämmistä enemmän tai vähemmän pitävät voivat tietenkin muutella määriä mielensä mukaan.

• Anna jäätelön pehmetä hiukan, joko yhdessä isossa kulhossa tai valmiiksi jälkiruokakuppeihin annosteltuna.
• Lusikoi sen joukkoon mämmiä "tiikerikakkutyyliin" ja sekoita varovasti (ei mielellään yhdeksi tasaväriseksi mössöksi -- mutta eihän mikään tässä reseptissä ole kiveen kirjoitettu).
• Anna jähmettyä vähän aikaa pakkasessa.

Tooooosi hyvääää! Annosten mahdolliseen koristeluun sopii vaikka sokeroitu appelsiininkuori tai appelsiinimarmeladi. Tai valkosuklaalastut tai maissimuromurska tai taitaitai.

* * *

Kaikki puhuu pelkästä jääkiekosta tai Ilkka Kanervasta. Phöh. MINÄ KIELTÄYDYN!
Koska jännitän portfolioni matkaa (onneksi postin nettisivujen tarjoaman seurannan mukaan se näkyy ehtivän määränpäähänsä vaadittuun aikaan) eikä muutakaan kirjoittamisen arvoista ole meneillään, tulee tässä sepostettua taas aikamoisia turhuuksia omaksi huviksi.

Star Stories, Ylellä "Starat", on ollut todellinen lahjakkuuksien laari. (Ykköskausi löytyykin DVD:llä ja kakkoskauden ostomahdollisuutta odotan kuola noruen.) Lisäksi lähes kaikki sen koomikoista ovat varsin vetoavia persoonallisuuksia, valmiita aivan mihin tahansa viihteen nimissä, sekä nuoria ja nättejä. Tämän listan tekeminen oikein sattuu, kun ei voi valita jokaista:

Top 5 Star Stories -näyttelijät

1. Jaettu ykkössija...
Kevin Bishop:
"People say, "you're really good at doing camp", but actually, I love it and it's just the real me."
&
Tom Basden
Babyface-Bishopin ruokottomat imitaatiot ja lauluääni veivät sydämeni, mutta toisaalta vähemmän esillä olleen Basdenin kukkoilu John Leslienä iski nauruhermooni melkeinpä kovimmin koko sarjan aikana.
(Ei, eipä nimi John Leslie sanonut minullekaan mitään -- mutta Basden teki hahmosta niin roisin että pudotti täysin tällaisen brittilastenohjelmiin vihkiytymättömänkin.)

2. Alice Lowe
Vaikka on ollut vain yhdessä jaksossa, sympaattisin SS:n komedienneista (ja uskokaa minua, kilpailu on sillä saralla kovaa). Pakko myöntää että My Life in Film vaikuttaa Lowen sijoitukseen. Se tullee aina olemaan minulle lisäpisteen arvoinen.

3. Oliver Maltman
Sen verran tehokas naurattaja, ajoituksen- ja äänenkäyttäjä että hänen hahmonsa ovat suorastaan unohtumattomia vaikkeivät imitaatiot olisikaan kaikkein uskottavimpia -- tosin sama päteekin valtaosaan SS-esiintyjistä. Parasta Maltmanin hahmoista on vaikeaa valita, mutta kyllä George Harrisonilla on ihan spesiaali paikka muistoissani. "You think you have it rough? Try being in a band with Paul McCartney! ...No George, you can't have a ham sandwich! ...Look George, I'm sticking two thumbs in the air! ...Bastard."

4. Rhys Thomas
Rouheaääninen, ilo silmälle (jos pinnallisemmat perustelut sallitaan), ehkä sarjan paras tosikkotyyppien esittäjä sekä roolisuorituksissaan vailla häpeän häivääkään.

5. Daisy Beaumont
Pelottava ja pelottavan hyvä, pistää peliin aina 110%.

(6. Kaikki loput. Oi mää tykkään teistä nii hirveesti!)

Koska sarja on Suomessakin jo viimeistä jaksoa vaille nähty, on viimeistään aika ryhtyä ajattelemaan tulevaisuutta:

Top 5 staraa joista Star Storiesin pitäisi tehdä jakso

1.
Kenneth Branagh
Mukana myös Emma Thompson; William Shakespeare ja Laurence Olivier (varmaan haamuina); Keanu Reeves, Helena Bonham-Carter, Alicia Silverstone, Fry & Laurie, Jude Law ym...

Brittien suhtautuminen Branaghiin on ihan valmiiksi aika armotonta. Itse olen Branagh-fani, mutta haluaisin silti kovasti nähdä mitä SS hänestä nyhtäisi.

2.
J.K. Rowling
Mukana myös Harry Potter -elokuvien näyttelijät ja ohjaajat; haudan takaa Roald Dahl, J.R.R. Tolkien ja C.S. Lewis; sekä (ihan ilman mitään muuta syytä kuin se että tykkään hänen kirjoistaan) Alan Hollinghurst.

Täytyyhän tämä tuhkimotarina sentään ikuistaa. Komediaa luulisi irtoavan runsaasti aina ahdasmielisten hihhulien nostattamasta saatananpalvontakohusta alkaen. Suosituin brittikirjailija sitten... Öö, Shakespearen, vai oliko se "sitten Agatha Christien"?

3.
Keane
Mukana Coldplay, Oasis, U2, Bob Geldof, Elton John, Gwen Stefani...

Oliver Maltman näyttää niin sopivasti Keanen Tom Chaplinilta, että jo sen vuoksi pakko tehdä. Ja sarja on aiemminkin näpäkästi esitellyt muusikkoja, itse asiassa melkein kaikki yllä mainituista.

4.
Russell Crowe
Maalitaulu otsassa. Käsikirjoitus lähestulkoon kirjoittaa itsensä. Ja ruudulle pääsisivät myös Paul Bettany, Jennifer Connelly, Meg Ryan, Al Pacino...

5. jne.
Hugh Grant... Baldwin-veljekset... Gyllenhaalit... Niin, ja kenestäköhän pitäisi tehdä jakso jotta John Cusack saataisiin ruutuun -- varmaan sitten Cusackista itsestään (vaikkei miekkonen ole varsinaisesti skandaalien keskipisteessä ollutkaan). Meg Ryan & Dennis Quaid... Matt Damon & Ben Affleck... Nyt alkaa listasijat loppua kesken.

Sleuth miał wszelkie możliwości, żeby spełnić wymagania dobrego filmu. Po kolei: świetny pierwowzór (pod tym samym tytułem, z 1972 roku, autorstwa Josepha L. Mankiewicza), znakomity scenariusz autorstwa, uwaga, samego Harolda Pintera (a więc laureata Literackiej Nagrody Nobla z 2005 r.), niezłego reżysera (znany miłośnik Szekspira w każdej postaci, Kenneth Branagh) oraz dwójkę wybitnych aktorów - Jude'a Lawa oraz Michaela Caine'a (jako ciekawostkę dodam, że grał również w wersji oryginalnej, tylko oczywiście odtwarzał tam inną postać). Jak się jednak okazało, wszystko to było za mało.

Akcja jest bardzo prosta - doświadczony wiekowo i życiowo bogaty pisarz (Caine) zaprasza do swojej posiadłości młodego i przystojnego aktora (Law), który romansuje z żoną popularnego literata. Każdy rzecz jasna próbuje ugrać coś dla siebie - starszy głównie szuka zemsty, która ma wnieść emocje do jego wyjałowionego już życia, a młodszy walczy o rozwód dla swojej kochanki, a więc o możliwość ich dalszego bycia razem. Brzmi nieźle? Niestety, na tym się kończy.

Film nie jest szczególnie długi, ale niemiłosiernie się dłuży. Oczywiście, można by przyjąć, że to wymogi konwencji, ale wcale to nie działa na jego korzyść. Reżyser założył sobie bowiem, że będzie to de facto teatr telewizji, tylko, że oglądany na większym ekranie. Ci, którzy pomyśleli sobie teraz, że to dobry pomysł, na pewno nie widzieli jeszcze Sleuth. Aktorski pojedynek, na który widzowie ostrzyli sobie zęby okazuje się bowiem pokazem sztuczności i przerysowanej do granic rozsądku gry. Oczywiście, aby utrzymać napięcie, mając do dyspozycji zaledwie dwójkę bohaterów, dodatkowo pojawiających się wyłącznie w ograniczonej i zamkniętej przestrzeni, trzeba być niemal mistrzem reżyserskiego warsztatu. Ale czy to, że Branagh okazał się nim nie być, rozgrzesza go choćby w najmniejszym stopniu?

Zresztą im dalej, tym gorzej. Reżyser raczy coraz to bardziej wymyślnymi ujęciami, z niezwykłą wręcz dbałością skupiając się na zupełnie nieistotnych detalach scenografii i bardzo wyraźnie podkreślając w ten sposób, że to, co widzimy to dekoracja. Taka umowność sprawdza się w prawdziwym teatrze, ale na ekranie kinowym co najmniej dziwi. Kilka sprawnie wyuczonych sztuczek, ale nic poza tym. Twórcza pustka. Kwintesencja stwierdzenia o przeroście formy nad treścią.

Tak naprawdę, do końca nawet nie wiadomo, co jest główną osią pojedynku między bohaterami. Wydawać by się mogło, że chodzi o kobietę, ale w pewnym momencie Branagh przenosi środek ciężkości na, nieumotywowaną niczym, relację homoerotyczną postaci. Zupełnie niezrozumiały zabieg, dla którego nie widzę innego wyjaśnienia, jak tylko dodatkowe i zupełnie niepotrzebne pogmatwanie sytuacji. I oczywiście skonfundowanie najbardziej wytrwałego widza.

Omijać z daleka, chyba, że chcecie przetestować własną cierpliwość.

Tym razem wyjątkowo nie wrzucam trailera filmu, bo mógłby kogoś wprowadzić w błąd. W zamian, promo oryginalnej wersji:

I've seen some manage the near-impossible, which is to be dull, and some become highly eccentric. I've seen Paul Rhys's willowy, weepy Hamlet scrub his nails and Yorick's skull in a bath while orating about destiny, Jonathan Pryce internalise his father's ghost into a deep voice that burped its demands up from his stomach, Samuel West's scruffy student prince share a joint with the Rosensterns, and Frances de la Tour, my first female Hamlet, mooch lankily about in clothes best suited to a transport cafe specialising in soggy chips. I've even seen George Anton's druggie prince (isn't he said to be “blasted with ecstasy”?) rape an Ophelia whose corpse was also used by a necrophiliac Horatio; but that time the director was Calixto Bieito, the Catalan maverick of whom the rest should be silence.

Who is the best Hamlet I've seen or, to put it another way, the worthiest heir to gentle Garrick and ferocious Kean, sensitive Gielgud and ballsy Olivier? That's a question well worth asking now, with David Tennant soon to emerge from his Tardis to play Hamlet, Kenneth Branagh directing Jude Law's prince next year, and Jonathan Miller staging the play in Bristol next month. But it's hard to answer because the search is for a complete Hamlet and, really, there's no such being.

His own testimony is that he is very proud, revengeful and ambitious, Ophelia's that he is the glass of fashion, the expectancy of the state and a noble courtier, soldier and scholar, and Fortinbras's that he would have “proved most royal”. But every claim needs qualification.

He is loving, callous, fastidious, coarse, contemptuous, considerate, vindictive, prudish, indecisive, tough, incapable, philosophic, violent, melancholy, resilient, vulnerable, intense, detached, humorous, aristocratic, demotic, articulate, self-hating and much else, including a stage director and Denmark's premier theatre critic. He is Dr Jekyll and perhaps he is also Mr Hyde, in D.H. Lawrence's words “a repulsive, creeping, unclean thing”. He is a success, for he gets his man, and a failure, for he leaves behind eight bodies, including his own, when there was meant to be one.

Coleridge decided in an opium haze that he was Hamlet, and so might you and I, for perhaps he is all of us at our most maddeningly unpindownable. And here's the central problem. How can an actor make the prince's inconsistencies consistent? Well, the answer is simple. He can't. Derek Jacobi acknowledged this when he called the role “infinitely adaptable” but added that every actor could only bring his own “emotional bank” to the play and try to be spendthrift. Sadly, though, every actor is ultimately doomed to live within his means. Every actor's resources are finite, however daringly he maximises them. ... more>>

I'm right in the middle of a book I could probably finish as well, which is a bit of a temptation, although I've already read the end, so it's not quite so pressing now (The Rose of Sebastopol by Katherine McMahon).  I have  that 'When Harry Met Sally' thing going on.  No.  Not the having to sleep with all the men who are your friends (Yuk! Say I.) The having to read the end of a book first thing. 

I always, always read the end of the book after I've read the first few chapters.  That way I can almost guarantee that I will never die disappointed because I didn't know what the end of the book was before I pegged it.  My friends all think I'm mad to do this, and ask me if it doesn't ruin the book for me, but to be honest it doesn't a bit.  Can you tell that I'm a bit of a control freak?  You wouldn't honestly think so today if you were to look at my hair.  I look like I've rubbed up against a thousand balloons in the night, and I can't do a thing with it, except contemplate a career as a Kate Bush impersonator.  Either that or I could be an understudy in The Lion King.

I never feel cheated by knowing what's going to happen in a book.  I read really, really quickly, and if I know the end it means I slow down a little, which gives me time to savour the book more.  It also means that I am in the privileged position of picking up threads and hints in the book which would otherwise be lost on me.  I'm not a great one for re-reading things anymore, so if I don't pick it up the first time I never will, unless it's a book I'm going on to study.  I simply don't have the time, as I have about a billion unread books clamouring for my attention.  I read books like I eat cake, quickly and with a poverty mentality.  More is most definitely more in these situations.

I have friends who reread and reread their favourite books over and over again.  I have one acquaintance who only reads books by authors she likes.  I find this odd, as how can she know she likes someone until she's read the book?  She has never adequately explained this to me.  It's probably very quantum and my failure to understand it is just me being incredibly dense.  It's usually the case.

She can quote huge sections of books to me, and knows the characters like they are people she is related to.  One of her favourite books is Lord of The Rings, which I think is unmanageable and vastly over-rated.  I loved The Hobbit, and felt that if LOTR was about the same length it would have been a corker of a book.  As it is, it is flabby with too much poetry.  I know, I know, it's a bit of pots and kettles here, coming from the world's most long winded blogger, but what can you do?  We've already clearly established that I have terrible double standards.

She is so knowledgeable about LOTR that once when we were playing LOTR Top Trumps with the kids she went mental because they'd got some of the character's ages wrong, and the horse that Gandalf rides wasn't accurately represented!  Now that's dedication to the cause.  My memory is just not that good.  Even with books I've read over and over my memory is appalling.  For one reason and another I must have read Wuthering Heights at least six or seven times in my life, and I'd still be hard pushed to tell you in any great detail what happens, and I've seen the films (all of which were shit by the way).  I've even written essay questions on it for the good lord's sake. 

My memory is absolutely shocking, and I don't even have the excuse of a life of drugs and rock 'n' roll to blame for it.  I do wonder if too much chocolate fudge cake can have the same deleterious effect however.  It might be worth testing the hypothesis.  I am willing to put myself forward for the clinical trials, as long as I don't get the placebo and end up with carob cake.  I'd only be doing it for the greater good, naturally.  A life of sacrifice, that's me all over!

I can kind of see the attraction in this reading your favourite books over and over, rather like having a very good comfort blanket, but for me there is just a world of new things out there waiting to be explored that I can't wait to get my teeth into.  My one regret is that I will die not having read every book on the planet!  Jason is hysterical with my attempts to even try.  He doesn't mind me reading them, it's the buying he's not so keen on.  After the buying it's the storing books he gets hysterical about.  As he so rightly says, books create a lot of dust, and when we move house they up or removal bills considerably.  When I get my own personal library though all will be well.  Jason says we will have spent all the money on books and won't be able to afford to build our own library.  I'm thinking we could build it from books and thus be very energy efficient and recycly.

By then I will probably be blind and have to listen to everything on book tape.  This, by the way is my idea of hell.  I don't mind audio books, but what I do mind is abridged audio books.  If an author has written the words, the reader should read them, and that's that.  Listening to abridged books is like buying The Reader's Digest Condensed Books, heresy, that's what it is.  That's what would be in my Room 101, along with Anthea Turner.

My gran was registered blind towards the end of her life, and her big gripe about audio books was Kenneth Branagh.  There was a phase when our Ken made a fortune from narrating audio books, seemingly the type of books that my gran listened to, i.e. Douglas Reeman and Dick Francis presumably.  She hated Ken's voice and was driven to despair by the fact that if she wanted to hear the latest book, she would have to be read to by Ken's dulcet tones.  I'm sure that's why she was an insomniac.  He just wasn't soothing to her.  I don't have that much of a problem with him, so I shall be fine, although I'm not keen on Douglas Reeman.  I've decided that by the time I'm on audio only I shall be so rich that I shall be able to pay my favourite voices to come and read to me, the unabridged versions naturally.  It will be my great indulgence (along with all the others...)

When I was a kid I used to read and reread, but I had a lot more time then.  I also read a lot of new things.  I was forever trying something odd.  My parents are big readers, so there was always stuff to get my teeth into.  We went to the library at least once a week, and when I was nine I borrowed The Castle by Kafka, because I thought it looked 'interesting'!  I never made it past the first fifty pages.  I just found the whole experience completely overwhelming.  I've never managed to finish it since either, although it's on my list of things to do.  I did manage to finish The Trial, which was horrible, which is probably why I've never made it past listing The Castle on my to do list and not actually read it.

I'm not a book snob.  I don't really care what I read, as long as I can read.  I read across every genre and am equally happy with non-fiction, although I do think it's a lot harder to write decent non-fiction.  With fiction you've always got the narrative thread to help you out if you get stuck.  It's a bit like a bannister on the stairs.  Generally it's quite useful to stop you falling down.  Non-fiction doesn't always have that bannister, and so if it's crap it is quite often unreadable.  I find it a lot easier to put down non-fiction to come back to 'later', i.e. never.

I'm in a bit of a listy mood today, so I will be a Nick Hornby mini-me and list some of my top books that every fule no, should be read immediately if not before.  In no particular order, because I keep changing my mind:

1. Skellig by David Almond
2. Northern Lights Trilogy by Philip Pullman
3. Love That Dog by Sharon Creech
4. Captain Corelli's Mandolin by Louis de Bernieres
5. Friday's Child by Georgette Heyer
6. Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte
7. Molesworth by Geoffrey Willans and Ronald Searle
8. Three Men in A Boat by Jerome K. Jerome
9. Villette by Charlotte Bronte
10. Justine by Lawrence Durrell
11. Tales of the City by Armistead Maupin
12. Two for the Dough by Janet Evanovich
13. The English Patient by Michael Ondaatje
14. Smiling in Slow Motion by Derek Jarman
15. The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay by Michael Chabon
16. The Hours by Michael Cunningham
17. The Reader by Bernhard Schlink
18. A Summer Book and A Winter Book by Tove Jansson
19. Thank You Jeeves by P. G. Wodehouse
20. 1066 and All That by W. C. Sellar & R. J. Yeatman
21. A Hat Full of Sky by Terry Pratchett
22. The Collector by John Fowles
23. On Beulah Height by Reginald Hill
24. The Complete Saki by Saki
25. The Falls by Ian Rankin
26. Cold Comfort Farm by Stella Gibbons
27. The Pursuit of Love by Nancy Mitford
28. I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith
29. Our Mutual Friend by Charles Dickens
30. Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf
31. The Plague by Albert Camus
32. Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad
33. The Princess Bride by William Goldman
34. Across The Nightingale Floor by Lian Hearn
35. Under Milk Wood by Dylan Thomas

There.  That should keep you busy for a while.  Read, inwardly digest and then come round for tea and buns and we'll chat.  Of course, that's a very abbreviated list which doesn't include poetry (try Sylvia Plath, Anne Sexton, Ted Hughes, Brian Patten, Roger McGough, John Hegley and Neil Rollinson for starters), or much non-fiction (the OUP Very Short Introduction To, series are usually excellent), or the ancient classics (Suetonius, Herodotus and for more up to date stuff Robert Graves), or the more up to date classics (Trollope, Austen etc).

In fact I could easily compile a top one hundred.  I won't however, as I'm sure you're already bored to tears.  I will, just for the hell of it, compile a list of books and/or authors I wish I had never read, but feel vindicated that I have tried, much like trying local cheeses, which you know you should like, but feel that on balance you'd like to spit into your hanky with a kind of 'Gaaaahhh'! sound.  Again in no particular order:

1. Anything by Jeffrey Archer
2. Anything by Catherine Cookson
3. Anything by Jackie Collins
4. Anything by Stephen King
5. The Magician by Raymond E. Feist
6. A La Recherche Du Temps Perdu - Marcel Proust
7. Ulysses by James Joyce
8. Pilgrims Progress by John Bunyan
9. The Faerie Queene by Edmund Spencer
10. Midnight's Children by Salman Rushdie

So.  That's it today.  No laughs, just lists.  No mention of Celine, although her autobiography was on sale for fifty pence in the library last night, and I was sorely tempted.  I decided against it because I thought it would spoil the surprise.  As it is now, we have years of mutual discovery ahead of us.

I've always firmly believed that if a script, or more specifically, the dialogue, is good, the movie can never be *that* bad. A good script can keep the audience's interest alive, even if all other aspects of the movie fail. Well-placed witticisms and statements that subtly tease the viewer to delve beneath the surface and truly connect with the characters and their frame of mind can inevitably make the difference between a good movie and a bad one.

Sleuth not only delivers on all these fronts, instantly making it a very watch-able movie, but also goes the proverbial distance - with powerhouse acting by Caine and Law, incredible sets, and Branagh's classy direction, you'd be hard-pressed to find *anything* wrong with the movie.

Loosely based on the Anthony Shaffer play, Sleuth pits the very famous crime-writer Anthony Wyke (Caine) against the young, brash actor, Milo Tindle (Law). Tindle has come to Wyke's paranoia-induced (I'm pretty sure that's a fair extrapolation, what with the staggering number of surveillance cameras he seems to have peppered all over his estate) technological fortress to ask for a divorce; Tindle has run off with Wyke's wife, and they want to get married as soon as possible. Wyke seemingly takes it in his stride, and does Tindle one better - he proposes that Tindle steal his precious jewels and sell them, while Wyke reaps the insurance money. The reason: He wants to make sure that his wife doesn't come back to him, and so wants to ensure that this out-of-work actor can accommodate her extravagant lifestyle.

The opening scene sets the standard for the rest of the movie - an almost aerial view of the characters' cars, with Wyke remarking "Mine's bigger than yours". What follows is an intense battle of wits in a claustrophobic arena; an intellectual cage-match, if you will, that the actors (and the characters they portray) seem to play with each other with effortless ease. With plot-twists and intense acting, Sleuth borders on the realm of a psychological thriller, forever keeping you on the edge of your seat, straining your ears to listen to every word so as not to miss a single syllable, a single nuance. The haunting score adds to the eerie atmosphere, getting darker as the game gets more serious. Branagh, as with his other movies, shows a mastery rarely seen, but never forgotten. The effortless way he tells the tale through a mixture of close-ups and surveillance photography creates a distance and a sense of scale that matches the actors and the ambiguous characters they've created. This is a visual masterpiece, perfectly complemented by a wonderful script.

Note: From other reviews I've heard/read, don't expect to see a remake of the 1972 film. This is not The Omen; Branagh's direction and Harold Pinter's screenplay have created a movie that *very* loosely follows the same story. The only common points would probably be Michael Caine (Caine had earlier portrayed Tindle in the 1972 film), the basic outline, and the end.
(Or so I've heard. I haven't seen the '72 film myself, so I can't really compare.)

For further info: Sleuth at IMDb.com

It looks to me as if low season in Stratford means that the streets are merely busy, rather than utterly clogged with tourists. It certainly is a town geared towards tourism, but for the most part, rather successfully.

I must admit I was a little unsure what to expect from the play. I think I've seen the Kenneth Branagh version of Henry V, but for the most part have stayed away from the histories. I was pleasantly surprised.

The production is a long one—clocking out at over 3 hours with an interval mid-way—but it never became boring. The set was simple, but the stage itself was built out into the stalls area, and the production made marvellous use of space. There were ladders rising up from walkways to the circle (first balcony), which the actors regularly used for entrances and exits. We were seated in the circle, about five feet from one of these ladders.

It brought home to me the real advantages of theatre over television or cinema. I realise now that all the most memorable productions I've seen have used the space of the theatre in an interesting way, with as great a range of effects as a movie director might use a camera angle or long take. I recall a production of The Tempest in London, starring Ian McDiarmid as Prospero. It was the last production before they completely renovated the building, and they seemed almost to spend what was left of the theatre in a fantastic last hurrah; the centerpiece was an enormous pool of water from which Ariel would rise to stand, sprite-like, upon the surface of the water.

The highlight of the first half of Henry VI, Part II) was the banishment of Eleanor, Duchess of Gloucester (Maureen Beattie), for witchcraft. Her last speech was delivered with such fury that I felt as guilty as Gloucester (Richard Cordery) did at disavowing his wife. Katy Stephens' performance as Queen Margaret also stood out, though her almost slavering scheming and ambition seemed a little over-the-top at times.

After the first half of the play we were unsure whether another round of the same would be as enjoyable. But we needn't have worried. The scenes with Jack Cade (John Mackay as a vicious, prancing dandy) and his mad band of followers were a fun diversion from the otherwise-relentless drama. It was just enough to let us catch our breath before the blunt violence of the final scenes of open warfare between the weak-willed King Henry (Chuk Iwuji) and the cautiously ambitious Richard of York (Clive Wood).

All in all, a production to be recommended, even for those whom would not count themselves as fans of the Histories.

I dreamed that I was taking the kids for a picnic with my grandad to some tranquil, typically English riverside location.  We had set up our blanket in some kind of gorge by some overhanging elders.  It was lovely.  The sun was shining and the water was plashing away.  My grandad suddenly announced that it would be entirely possible to swim to Afghanistan from here, and that if we put the kids on our shoulders we would be there in a couple of hours.  Apparently the only thing we had to worry about was the water being a bit icy further up stream due to the run off of snow melt from the Himalayas!

I took him seriously and decided that the only thing I was worrying about was that I didn't have enough sun cream in the picnic bag to last three small children if we were going to be in and out of the water that much.  I don't remember being at all disturbed that me and a now deceased sixty odd year old with emphysema were going to take three small children to Afghanistan by swim power alone.  I also don't remember being at all bothered by the idea of what we were going to do once we got there.  Perhaps we were going to join a small gang of freedom fighters in the foot hills.  I'm sure they wouldn't have been at all perturbed by the sight of five white people clad only in swimming costumes dripping towards them.  All perfectly normal.  Nothing to see.

We decided that we would do this, but that it was probably sensible to let our sandwiches settle first.  After all, you don't really want cramp when undertaking such an epic journey, although apparently it is all rubbish about getting cramp from eating before swimming.  I read it on the BBC News Website, so it must be true.  We agreed that the kids could splash around in the river to get used to the water. 

Matilda then found a load of broken shards of pottery which turned out to be from a mosaic on the floor of the river which was slowly being washed away by the force of the current.  When I inspected the pieces they had pictures of the Tombliboos' from 'In The Night Garden'  on them.  They were very old bits of mosaic, and it turned out that the Tombliboos were in fact ancient Roman Gods which everyone had forgotten about, but who we still had some ancient predisposition to worship, hence explaining the surprising success of 'In the Night Garden.'  We had discovered the site of one of their first temples.  Awesome...

At that moment my aunt and cousins sailed by on a galleon, announcing they were going to search for missing treasure and did we want to come.  We were just about to decline on the grounds that we were going to swim to Afghanistan when I woke up.  All very strange.

I can trace some of the elements, but not all.  Oscar was very keen on 'In The Night Garden' earlier in the day and watched it completely entranced.  He was most amused when the Pontipines went for a walk on the Tombliboos' washing line and I remember being grateful because I could read a chapter of my book uninterrupted.  He likes me to sit next to him while we watch television, but usually gets very miffed if I dare to read and not give his televisual viewing choice my full attention. He reminds me of this by slapping my hand away from the pages and squeaking 'oook!' The only time I get to sneak in a few pages is when he is truly 'in' his programme.  It doesn't happen very often, so I expect that's why the Tombliboos got so elevated in my mind.

The ship was probably something to do with the fact that I've been reading a fair bit about Shakespeare and for some reason everyone likes to talk about The Merchant of Venice ad nauseam.  There are a lot of ships in this play, most of which end up coming to grief spectacularly carrying everyone's money and causing a lot of upset.  I don't know why they just don't choose to travel by Tallulah's secret ambliance.  Apparently it's a miracle of modern science and technology, much like The Millennium Falcon.

The Afghanistan/grandad bits are frankly mysterious, and I expect if it weren't four in the morning and I wasn't nursing a sore head I could probably come up with some suitably spectacular and psychologically sound explanation which would no doubt involve nudity, ladders and a pig playing a banjo.  As it is I shall just draw a line over it and be grateful that it didn't involve my usual chainsaws and buckets of blood.

As you can see by the fact that I am writing this now, I was very lax during the day, and had actually decided to give myself a day off from blogging.  I know that a writer should practice every day to hone their craft, but I spent most of the day wishing I were the Dormouse in the teapot, and that Alice would just wander along and put the lid back on so I could go to sleep.  It was one of those days where Oscar decided that naps were for girls which just added insult to injury and I wandered through the day pouring tea into my shoe and generally behaving like a total moron.  I was in bed by quarter to nine and asleep by half past.  I don't remember the last time I've done that.  It was brilliant!

That's not to say that it wasn't a nice day.  It was just a long and winding day.  Good things did happen.  It's my mum's birthday tomorrow.  She's celebrating by going to work in the morning and is then spending three hours of her afternoon in the dentist chair having her tooth, which fell to bits at the weekend, grafted back together.  She is naturally quite depressed about this.  As she freely admits, she is no longer of the age and temperament to expect wild parties and balloons, but even for her this would not be the way she would choose to celebrate.

We decided to do a queen like manoeuvre and give her two birthdays, so she had one with Oscar and I in Borders.  We ate smoked salmon sandwiches (very queen like also - a homage), and cake and mucked around for a bit.  She was very pleased with her presents, which was good, because I spent a lot of time in Monsoon on Sunday agonising over a dress for her.  I made the decision, got it home and then spent several hours wringing my hands over it, having decided that she would hate it and think I was trying to insult her. As it was, when she unwrapped it she was so pleased with it she had her clothes off so fast I hadn't had time to close the kitchen blinds!  I hope the neighbours across the way weren't trying to stare in at our squalid existence...

Another nice thing that happened was that Andrea has booked us on a load more jollies.  We're out twice this week to see Henry VI parts I and II, next week we're seeing Henry VI part III and Richard III, then we had a bit of a lull until March.  She got a brochure from her work yesterday announcing that they're having a week long arts festival at the end of Feb (she works for a university), and did she want some tickets to see arty stuff.  We are now booked to see a frankly ludicrous number of things, all of which are on at bizarre times of the day.  She wanted to get there before the rush so she has booked them before I have bribed random acquaintances to babysit, which could prove problematic.  She has great faith that we will work it out.  I believe her!

We are going to see Jean 'Binta' Breeze, a poet who wrote one of my favourite poems ever, called 'Spring Cleaning'.  I am quite excited about this.  We are also going to see Mark Thomas talking about the arms race, which should be that difficult combination of funny and upsetting.  I might tell him about my Afghanistan dream and see what he thinks.  I'm sure he would be so impressed!

We've got tickets to see Sue Townsend, who I'm probably going to ask for tips, suggestions and an introduction to her publishers (In truth I will probably rush up to her and inarticulately say: 'You're brilliant you are!' whilst dribbling on her shoe).  We're going to see the poet Laureate, Andrew Motion, who I've only read a bit of, and mostly only his prose.  I shall need to polish up on some of his poetic oeuvre.  We're also going to see Grayson Perry, which I am very intrigued by.

Grayson Perry is an artist who works in ceramics.  He won the Turner Prize a few years ago, and we studied some of his ceramics on my last OU course.  He is also a transvestite.  Apparently when interviewed he said that it was about time a transvestite potter won a prize and that there just wasn't enough of it about.  He does have a point!  He's going to be chatting to Lars Tharp from the Antiques Roadshow.  I haven't told my dad about this one because he would explode in a welter of contradictions.  He loves the Antiques Roadshow and all it contains.  He deals in antiques and does collect some ceramics.  I'm almost certain he won't have heard of Grayson Perry (he's just not dusty enough), and I'm just not sure how he's going to get his head round the whole transvestite thing. 

It's not that he would be particularly bothered, but that he would be bound to ask a question, because he's just like that, and it would be bound to come out all sideways.  He wouldn't be consciously bothered about dress wearing man, in fact his conscious mind would probably fail to register it, in much the same way he doesn't notice that my mum has had her haircut until three weeks after she's been to the hairdressers.  Nevertheless, the unconscious mind has a funny way of playing tricks with us and he would just blurt out something like: 'Oy! man in a skirt (a bit tourettish)! How do you dress your clay?' or something else.  It would be a total 'too many words', 'I'll get my coat' experience, on which he would dine out for months afterwards. 

He does love mingling with the stars bless him. He managed to milk the fact that he was on Car Boot Challenge with Angela Rippon for about six months.  It would drive us all insane.  Apparently my mum was unimpressed by Angela.  Her hair was too stiff and a woman of her age should not wear tight, white trousers on the television, or indeed anywhere.  Her disapproval went hand in hand with my dad's increasing infatuation with the becoiffed Rippon.  If he mentions it she just sniffs and raises her eyebrow.  These are danger signals that he fails to pick up on, much the same way that he would fail to pick up on a man in a skirt!

Having said that, his only brush with men in drag went rather well as I recall.  When I was still married to Jamie we went to the Birmingham Hippodrome one night to see a play called 'The Play What I Wrote', which was about Morecambe and Wise.  It had won rave reviews and had something complicated to do with Kenneth Branagh so we thought we should give it a go.  My dad came with us because he loves Morecambe and Wise.  As it turns out it was terrible, and we left after the interval, while my dad soldiered on bravely to the end.

While we were waiting for him we went out to the Chinese quarter for dinner and had an exceptionally spicy, and delicious meal.  This was my mistake.  I had had stomach flu for about three days prior to our trip and still wasn't quite on the mend.  I was however starving hungry and fed up that I'd wasted good money on terrible theatre, so I threw caution to the winds and ate everything.

We were in the car on the way home, driving through a particularly seedy part of Brum when my nemesis struck.  I had to find a loo, and quick.  Jamie found a dodgy looking pub and sat outside with the engine running and my dad, very chivalrously, escorted me into the pub, to make sure they didn't string me up by my thumbs and lynch me.  I didn't pay too much attention to the clientele, speed being of the essence.  Although I did notice that for a spit and sawdust saloon, the toilets were rather clean and full of bunches of flowers.  When I got out, twenty minutes later, my poor father was hunched up at the far end of the bar drinking mineral water with men in skirts and a lot of leather!  It was, bless him, a gay bar.  As we left he was quite proud of himself, announcing that he thought he had blended in rather well because he had had sparkling water, and bought some raffle tickets!

But hear me out.

Are films getting better? Much better than older films? I mean, in pretty much every sense? Before you answer, consider the following :

1. Film is becoming a universally available and easily producible medium. Digital technology means that anyone with a camcorder and a pc can put their mini-opus together. Of course, that means a whole load of crap is produced, but for people with the ideas and the ingenuity, the opportunities to make your film is there. (The Blair Witch Project, Supersize Me etc)

2. We have seen some amazing films in the last decade. Just think of The Sixth Sense, Fight Club, American Beauty, Lord Of The Rings, The Matrix, Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind, LA Confidential, Saving Private Ryan, The Big Lebowski, The Prestige, Donnie Darko, The Departed.... I could go on. People talk about the Forties and the Seventies as "Golden Ages" of film; the fact is that we've been enjoying a Golden Age of film since about 1990, one that shows no signs of letting up.

3. Acting is getting better. Yes, it is. Granted, Marlon Brando and the Method school ushered in a vast sea-change in the art, but can you really tell me that there is any comparison between the stilted hamming of the 30's and 40's and the naturality of say, Edward Norton or De Niro?

4. Special effects. CGI is allowing directors to create images, nay, worlds from their imaginations. Compare the opening scene of Peter Jackson's "Lord Of The Rings" to Ralph Bakshi's 1978 disastrous version, purely in visual terms.

Jackson:

j

Bakshi:

j

There's no comparison, right?

j

5. I think that a lot of older movies get more respect than they deserve solely because they've got a few decades on them; they can sport that miasma of age that seems to render them untouchable. For instance, I watched James Whale's 1931 "Frankenstein" recently. This is considered a horror classic, and created the modern image of Frankenstein's monster as a lumbering flat-top, bolt-neck behemoth (the image is still under the copyright of Universal Pictures). It also features the famous line, "It's alive! It's alive!" (voted the #49 movie quote of all time by the American Film Institute).

Frankenstein:

But, despite all of this, I thought the movie was pretty crap. I'm a big fan of Mary Shelley's book, and I was appalled to see that the film discarded that story almost completely. The placement of American actors with thick American accents in the roles of German characters was atrocious. The tacked-on happy ending was painful. If that movie was made today, it would be a straight-to-video bottom-shelfer. All in all, I think that Kenneth Branagh's 1994 version is leagues ahead of that version; it is far more subtle, believable and retains much more of the book's poignant Oedipal themes.

But try saying that to any "serious" film fan or critic. I think I can safely say that if they don't implode on the spot, they will subject you to a tirade of vitriol based mainly on the dogmatic clout of the film's age.

(By the way, I have listened to film lecturers tell me that American Beauty is "implausible", Lord Of The Rings is "juvenile", and Titanic is "unwatchable". I can tell you right now that if any of those films had been released 50 years ago - special effects notwithstanding - academics would today consider them cinematic landmarks. And in 50 years' time, they will. But in academic circles at least, they haven't earned their chronological kudos quite yet.)

The obvious counterargument is that movies are always made within the context of their times. And that our modern movies wouldn't be here without them. Well, that's true. But why, then, are there many older movies that totally transcend their times and context; that instead of being just a rung towards greatness, skip the queue and just are great? For example, "The Cabinet Of Dr. Caligari" (1920) or "Nosferatu" (1922) were hugely popular films when they released, and still stand as amazing horror films. They are subtle, creepy and beautiful - and in a different league totally to the American "Frankenstein".

What I mean to propose is this..... What if more films are doing this today? What if more movies are simply obviating the constraints of context, passing "go" and hitting greatness? This may be a result of the sheer number of films being made. It may be because of studios becoming more liberal and independent. It may be because of the general freedom of information today as opposed to even a few decades ago. But the situation remains that we are, at least relatively speaking, being inundated with truly great films, and the trend doesn't seem to be about to stop.

I will leave you with the immortal words of Peter Griffin: "I did not care for the Godfather...."

Of course to many, the whole idea of the highest official accolades in the UK continuing to honour the idea of the 'British Empire' is problematic to say the least.   Hence you have outspoken figures such as Benjamin Zephaniah and Yasmin Alibhai-Brown who rejected their awards, (well in Yasmin's case she gave her's back after being inspired by Benjamin).  But of course I must stress and we all know this isn't just an "ethnic issue".  David Bowie, Dawn French, Jennifer Saunders, JGBallard, LS Lowry, Nigella Lawson, Roald Dahl, Kenneth Branagh and John Lennon, amongst many others are reported to have refused or returned their honours, all for different reasons, some for republican reasons, and others for more topical political events at the time.

But the fact remains for many so called "ethinic minorities" who were born in this country and love this country, the fact that the highest national honour continues to revere the Empire which enslaved, colonised, exploited and under-developed the majority of the countries which made up the British Empire aka the British Commonwealth, (or actually the Commonwealth of Nations as it is now called.)

I know what some of you may be thinking when you read this.  If you don't like it here, or don't like the system here, then why not leave?  Well that is where it gets tricky.  For starters most of them love living here and don't want to live elsewhere because this is where they were born and they have the right to live here and not like 100% of the system, just the same as an indignous white British person has the right to not like everything about the place they live.  Also, gob back where?  Again, this is their home and for many the only home they have ever known. I would ask people who would ask the "why don't they just leave...." question, - aside from race/immigration issues, can you hand on heart say you like 100% everything about the systems in this country?  (Any country where you might live for that matter as this tension isn't only relevant for Britain.)

But now coming back to Britain, when you consider that England is the 'Mother Country' for 53 independent sovereign states, many of which were enslaved, colonised, exploited and under-developed by the 'Mother Country', to a poverty level legacy that can still be witnessed today, then the issue of Britain highest honour continuing to revere the 'Empire project' is, to say the very least, distasteful and insensitive to a large amount of loyal British citizens.  Actually, correction, that should be 'subjects' not citizens!  (*cough*)

In my more lofty ego moments I daydream and think, if I every got awarded in the new years honours list, would I accept it?  (N.B. Not that I am expecting this call in any of my lifetimes soon you understand!!!!) In my more political and frankly principled moments I think, of course I wouldn't accept it, how dare they think I need to validate my existence and experience by bowing down to the Queen of the British Empire, etc, etc, etc, for all the reasons mentioned above, etc etc.  But when I am really honest with myself, I know I would be chuffed to be on the list and, well, my mum would be so proud!  (Sorry Benjamin, sorry Yasmin).

I guess I'll keep waiting by the phone each December, and hope it never rings.