Film: The French Dispatch

Yesterday, I flew back to Ireland for the weekend - it's easier to get Friday flights at the moment! But ay, what a journey. As usual, the bulk of the day's work hit in the evening, so I was rushing to get everything I wanted done before I left - then scurried back home, threw my things together, and made it to the station in time for the Stansted Express at 5.10 - they're every half-hour, and I figured the 5.40 wouldn't get me there in time. I'd checked earlier in the afternoon, and those were the minutes past the hour that they were going at - indeed, that they had gone at before. Imagine, then, my frustration when I got there, and discovered that the next train wasn't until 5.24..

Well, at least it had just arrived, so I could make my way straight on - squeezing past the horde of people that had just got off. And I got a seat and settled in for quite a pleasant journey - despite the iffy WiFi. The next problem was when we got to the airport, and were faced with a sea of people queueing for the escalators to the terminal. Moving very, very slowly - because their tickets were being checked, and there were only two staff members checking. We could see how slowly they were going from the slow trickle of people actually making it onto the escalators! I know it's a bottleneck there, but surely they can come up with a better system. As someone standing near me remarked, "outrageous!".

10 minutes then to get out of the train station, and I made it to the security check by 6.30. Which has to be the location of the most scathing indictment of the complete mismanagement of Stansted Airport. 22 security gates - 7 of which were open. Yes, you read that right - 15 were closed. On a Friday evening, five weeks before Christmas, with the airport choc-a-bloc with passengers. The queues were as bad as I've seen them, staff screaming at passengers who were going the wrong way, thinking to save time. And when we finally did get through and went through screening - yes, of course I was picked for the modern style of check, which I always set off. So, despite having nothing about my person that should set off the machinery, set it off I did, and had to take off my shoes and have them scanned separately, then get my (empty) pockets scanned and patted down. I never have this trouble in other airports, you know - so Stansted has both a staffing and an equipment failure.

20 minutes, then, to get through security - it was now 6.50, and my flight was at 7.25. I already had my gate number, thanks to the very efficient Ryanair Travel Assistant. Pity they couldn't move the flight to a closer gate though - this one was right near the back! Well, off I plodded, already weary from security - along the snaking path that leads through what must be one of the longest duty-free areas in the world, through the overcrowded departure lounge, and straight onto the long trudge to the gate. At least I was nearly at the end of this journey when the final call was announced. And I was glad that a couple arrived at the gate just in front of me - made me feel less isolated.

As it was, I was literally the last person onto the plane - I was worried about having to push past others to take my seat (I had a window seat), but would you believe it, the two people booked outside of me never arrived at all. In fact, an announcement was made on the plane, looking for them! Once I stopped panting, from my frantic dash through the airport, I noticed that - as usual - I was getting practically no air from the vent. At least I could also use the one from the seat beside me, which improved things a bit! And maybe it was that one of the attendants noticed me fanning myself with my phone, but once the doors were closed, the air supply increased enormously.

Made it back safely. Phew. Well, I spent a very great amount of time last night checking the London film list for Monday, which only renews on Fridays now. Then I had to get up in time for Tulla post office, which closes at 1pm on Saturdays, and where I pick up my mother's pension. So of course, I missed out on sleep. It's easier to choose for Ireland though, there's far less of a choice. I've gotten into the habit of going to films when I'm in Ireland, so looked for one for today - and if it's Limerick Omniplex, they do like you to book, and they don't have a booking fee. Now, I was thinking of Ghostbusters: Afterlife. But you know something, I was dubious that it just wouldn't live up to the original, which I loved - and having watched a review, I think I'm right. (I recommend starting watching the review at about 54 seconds, to avoid the annoying product ad.) Anyway, the gist of this review is that the director of the new movie is the son of the director of the original, and the new film keeps referencing the old film, rather than standing alone. From my perspective, although it has Bill Murray, Dan Aykroyd, Ernie Hudson, and Sigourney Weaver in it from the original, this new film is a coming-of-age, teen adventure, and I'd miss the wisecracks that so defined the original. So I'm skipping it.

Instead - and before it leaves the local cinemas for good - I booked for The French Dispatch. Also starring Bill Murray, this is an ensemble piece, with Benicio del Toro, Adrien Brody, Tilda Swinton, Léa Seydoux, Frances McDormand, Timothée Chalamet, Owen Wilson, Henry Winkler, Lois Smith, Christoph Waltz, Liev Schreiber, Mathieu Amalric, Willem Dafoe, and Edward Norton.. it's set around a newspaper, with Bill Murray as editor, and looked fabulous. Written and directed by Wes Anderson, and I was looking forward to it..

Left a little early, remembering the traffic from the last time! Well gee, but it was worse this time.. too many roadworks on the main street, and it took me ages to get through the centre. I was 15 minutes late by the time I arrived at the cinema - where, at least, there was parking. And wouldn't you know it, what with the Covid scare, security has been increased here, and - to my intense annoyance, especially after yesterday's delays - I was asked, at the door, for ID, and for my vaccination cert. Found them, and got my ticket scanned at the desk - just as well I photographed the QR code from the website after I'd booked, because the image never did display on the email they sent!

So, there I was, rushing again - and yes, it had started by the time I went in; they seem to show far fewer ads these days. I'd have booked an earlier showing, and avoided the traffic, but they didn't have one. Well, this film kind of takes the form of the retelling of different stories, featuring different selections of characters. Unfortunately, I just about missed Bill Murray's - but as I say, at least I knew he was the editor. I gathered that this "French Dispatch" is a kind of supplement to a newspaper based in Kansas, and that the staff inhabit a town by the name of Ennui (boredom), lying on the banks of the river Blasé. (In real life, this was apparently shot in Angouleme, and it looks lovely.)

Ah, I'm sorry I missed the start - I was dead right about this, I absolutely loved it, and found it hilarious! It was nice, too, to hear the giggles of an audience member in the row behind me - I wasn't the only one who appreciated it. I got to see four individual stories, based around journalists on the newspaper. The first is a story written by the "cycling journalist", Owen Wilson - a fun observation of the town, with little vignettes that are gems, but flash by so quickly you might miss them. Like his observation that the town has many cats - we see him having climbed a ladder to roof level, where he is met by dozens of cats, all scattered around the surrounding rooftops..

The other stories are longer and more involved. Story #2 is written by Tilda Swinton, the Arts correspondent, who has written a piece about the violent, convicted killer - and notable artist - Benicio del Toro. He found as his muse a prison guard - Léa Seydoux - and started painting again, as he had in his youth. His talent was noted by a fellow inmate - and art critic - Adrien Brody, who negotiated to promote his work. Henry Winkler is unrecognisable as one of his uncles, who run the family art business with him. Lois Smith plays an elderly and wealthy art investor. And woah, this story is an absolute triumph - possibly my favourite of them all, with Benicio del Toro as the intense and silent, tortured genius. Watch for the scene where he and Adrien Brody have an argument.. Benicio del Toro is in a wheelchair as a result of frustratedly stabbing himself with a palette knife, and ends up chasing Adrien Brody around in it. Pure gold.

Story #3 belongs to Frances McDormand (the only main female character in the film - apart from Lois Smith - who doesn't appear topless - at least - at some point), and is the story of student riots, which take place in the form of chess matches. Christoph Waltz is set up on a blind date with Frances McDormand by mutual friends - but she's much more interested in their son, Timothée Chalamet. Who also turns out to be a leader of the student protests.

And finally, we have a story, related to talk show host Liev Schreiber by the Cookery correspondent, who deviates from the food to mention the plot to capture the Police Commissioner's (Mathieu Amalric) son, as masterminded by master criminal Willem Dafoe, and executed by Edward Norton - the guitar-playing chauffeur.

Eclectic enough for you yet? It's a mad collection of tales, told with completely deadpan, quirky humour. Much of it was apparently inspired by real-life characters, and it's a real love letter to the writers. It's telling when so many big name actors are happy to take cameo roles in a film, as they do here. I adored it, highly recommend it - if you like the trailer, you will love it, no question.

Right, well, I'm back to London tomorrow, and as I mentioned, I'm thinking of film again. What's coming up tops is Khel Khel Mein, a film about students learning the truth about Bangadesh's turbulent past. The ratings are going crazy for this - starting at 8.1, within a day it had jumped to 8.3, and is now stable at 9.1.. Closest showing is in the Vue Westfield Stratford City. Now, at Vue, it's cheaper to book online - but their website seems to be broken.