Well, my luck seems to be in at last! First, I get a phone call from Viagogo promising me a full refund for the show I missed last night (yay!), then I leave it late to go to the cinema tonight, dash for the bus, and make the bus stop not ten seconds before the bus does. Phew!
Yes, Google Maps seems to think that the fastest way to get to the Institut Francais from here is by bus. Ok, fine. Cheaper than the Tube, anyway, and it would be too far to walk. So, I gratefully hopped on the bus - the film was on quite late anyway, and the bus was almost empty. And with not much traffic, we were there in no time. Google Maps seemed to think I should stay on the bus to go around the corner - maybe there was a slightly shorter walk from there - but I didn't see the point, and got off when I saw I was close. Made my way to the Institut - that's where the Ciné Lumiere is, where the film was showing tonight, and I've been there lots of times - and saw by their clock that it was one minute to showing time. Result!
They were showing that Volkswagen ad with the dogs when I went in - I love that ad. And once the couple in front of me - who hadn't been there before, they had to ask at the desk where it was - figured out where they wanted to sit, I could sit too, and enjoy it. And so to the film. Jeune & Jolie (Young & Beautiful) is the story of a 17-year-old French girl who decides to take up prostitution as a part-time job. The young star, I must say, is the image of a young (and extremely skinny) Julia Roberts. And Charlotte Rampling shows up at the end! My word, how long is it since I saw her in anything?
Well, the star may have constantly reminded me of Julia Roberts, but Pretty Woman this ain't. The prostitution scenes take place near the beginning, and it wasn't long before two women in the audience left in disgust. I can just see the protests from the anti-prostitution brigade as well - because she just seems to drift into it, her motives are never properly explained - I got the impression that sex, once she tried it, bored her and she figured she might as well get paid to do it. The message is also driven home to us that teenage romance means nothing, and teenagers are always ready to move on to the next thing. The ennui of youth, eh?
I disagree with the reviewer that said it was exploitative. Yes, we get to see nude shots of her, and quite a lot in the beginning of the film - but then her family finds out and puts a stop to it, and that's the end of it. Well, for a while - but the film takes a different tack after that. At her friends' party, the implication is that everyone is having sex, and anything goes - so implying that it's hypocritical to stigmatise prostitution (what's the difference, except you get paid?) She might have stopped being a prostitute, but still has trouble sticking to a boyfriend - she just doesn't feel strongly enough about anyone. Nothing bad happens to her as a result of what she's been doing, despite the adults' warnings. And Charlotte Rampling's function, right at the end, is to assure her that, had she been brave enough in her youth, she'd have loved to have done the same thing herself.
Yes, the anti-prostitution brigade will hate this. But doubtless, being not in English, it'll slip under the radar, mostly. I'll say this, though - that reviewer was right in saying she's borderline anorexic. I mean yes, she's lovely - but see her in a state of undress, and well, I find neither pointy shoulderblades nor a visible ribcage sexy in the least. She's the skinniest among her peers, and I do wonder whether that's a symbol of the fact that, in a way, she's more mature than they are, more canny (in charging for what they give away for nothing), supposed to be superior in some sense. She stands apart, for that reason as much as others. Or is that level of skinniness just what passes for sexy in France? Yuck. The promotion of that as a measure of beauty disturbs me far more than any prostitution in this film.
Having said that, it was a minor niggle for me as I watched the film, which is very stylish, very watchable. And you know, with something rated this highly, that there is something out of the ordinary about it.
I'm thinking of taking tomorrow night off - I have to be up early the next morning to go to the Guildford office, where we have our departmental Christmas dinner, at Loch Fyne seafood restaurant in the town. And anything I might be interested in going to is just on too late. Well, I had to stay in last night, so it won't be a complete shock to the system!
Tuesday, 10 December 2013
Monday, 9 December 2013
Play: Richard II
Predictably, didn't happen. Here's what did happen, in a nutshell:
Viagogo, from whom I bought the ticket for Richard II, made two claims on their website:
1. Buyers who do not get their tickets in time will have them replaced or refunded.
2. Viagogo uses world-class couriers.
Both false. I have reported them to the Advertising Standards Authority.
1. They are refusing point-blank to accept any liability, saying that their responsibility ended when the tickets were posted. Well, that ain't what it says in the "guarantee" on their website.
2. "World-class couriers"? They used the Royal Mail! And so it turned out that, while I foolishly thought I would get the ticket over the weekend, as with a proper courier, the Royal Mail took delivery on Saturday morning and had no intention of getting the ticket to me before today, Monday. Which meant that the address was wrong - I had specified my home address, in anticipation of getting the ticket over the weekend. But today, I was at work! But - Royal Mail doesn't allow redirection once the item has been posted. So I was forced to let the postman come to my home, which was empty, so there was no-one to sign for the letter, and, being from the Royal Mail, he then took it to the sorting office. And that was that, because the Royal Mail, again unlike a proper courier company, refuses to allow post to leave the sorting office within 24 hours of receipt.
Oh, I tried. I walked there, queued for half an hour, and was dismissed in 10 seconds when he saw the date on the delivery slip. "No, you can't collect this until tomorrow." "But I NEED it today! It was guaranteed to be delivered today!" "Sorry, can't help you. Who's next?" So the ticket is still languishing there, ten minutes' walk from here, an hour's drive from where it was posted on Saturday morning. Well, they can keep it now. I've made a formal complaint to them as well. Seriously - I know about the 24-hour rule, but it makes no sense for an item that was guaranteed to be delivered today. I should have been allowed to collect it.
Anyway, while those complaints are ongoing, I missed my play. Undaunted, I decided to go see Big Bad Wolves instead, in Leicester Square. Events, however, conspired against me. A signal failure led to severe delays on the Piccadilly Line. Ultimately, I realised I was never going to make it in time, turned around and came back. Hey-ho, at least I picked up an Evening Standard.
Big Bad Wolves isn't on tomorrow evening, so it's looking like Jeune & Jolie - this is the one I was thinking of that's showing in the Ciné Lumiere. One critic said it was exploitative, but what the hey. And I know what bus to get, if the Tube is playing up again!
Viagogo, from whom I bought the ticket for Richard II, made two claims on their website:
1. Buyers who do not get their tickets in time will have them replaced or refunded.
2. Viagogo uses world-class couriers.
Both false. I have reported them to the Advertising Standards Authority.
1. They are refusing point-blank to accept any liability, saying that their responsibility ended when the tickets were posted. Well, that ain't what it says in the "guarantee" on their website.
2. "World-class couriers"? They used the Royal Mail! And so it turned out that, while I foolishly thought I would get the ticket over the weekend, as with a proper courier, the Royal Mail took delivery on Saturday morning and had no intention of getting the ticket to me before today, Monday. Which meant that the address was wrong - I had specified my home address, in anticipation of getting the ticket over the weekend. But today, I was at work! But - Royal Mail doesn't allow redirection once the item has been posted. So I was forced to let the postman come to my home, which was empty, so there was no-one to sign for the letter, and, being from the Royal Mail, he then took it to the sorting office. And that was that, because the Royal Mail, again unlike a proper courier company, refuses to allow post to leave the sorting office within 24 hours of receipt.
Oh, I tried. I walked there, queued for half an hour, and was dismissed in 10 seconds when he saw the date on the delivery slip. "No, you can't collect this until tomorrow." "But I NEED it today! It was guaranteed to be delivered today!" "Sorry, can't help you. Who's next?" So the ticket is still languishing there, ten minutes' walk from here, an hour's drive from where it was posted on Saturday morning. Well, they can keep it now. I've made a formal complaint to them as well. Seriously - I know about the 24-hour rule, but it makes no sense for an item that was guaranteed to be delivered today. I should have been allowed to collect it.
Anyway, while those complaints are ongoing, I missed my play. Undaunted, I decided to go see Big Bad Wolves instead, in Leicester Square. Events, however, conspired against me. A signal failure led to severe delays on the Piccadilly Line. Ultimately, I realised I was never going to make it in time, turned around and came back. Hey-ho, at least I picked up an Evening Standard.
Big Bad Wolves isn't on tomorrow evening, so it's looking like Jeune & Jolie - this is the one I was thinking of that's showing in the Ciné Lumiere. One critic said it was exploitative, but what the hey. And I know what bus to get, if the Tube is playing up again!
Sunday, 8 December 2013
Musical: The Night before Christmas
Ho, ho, ho, how seasonal! Eh, kind of. Anyway, first I had to get to the Soho Theatre, which reminds you of how hard it is to get there in time, which might be why I missed the last two things I'd booked. Tube to Piccadilly, fine - except that one of the trains was out of service, but no big deal.
Then I arrived in Piccadilly Circus station and had no idea of the exit. I knew I needed Shaftesbury Avenue, but the signs were completely misleading and I surfaced on completely the wrong side of Piccadilly Circus, which meant I had to endure a number of road crossings. More time wasted. Approach this station with caution.. I'd have been lost without Google Maps Streeview, which reminded me I needed to take a left past Ripley's Believe it or Not!
So, aware that I was later than I should have been, I dashed down Shaftesbury Avenue, then down Dean Street. Well, I say dashed - and it was a bit easier when I got onto Dean Street, but even there I found myself walking on the road, it was easier. The crowds were terrible. I mean, it'd be fine if you weren't in a hurry, but all the swerving I had to do around groups of people that would stop suddenly in the middle of the path..!
I made the theatre just on the dot of start time. (Drum roll, please!) Third time lucky. Unfortunately, this is one of the places where there are a lot of stairs to climb, and of course I'd just had a 10-minute dash from the Tube. And then I got confused about which floor I was on. Luckily, the usher at the theatre door spotted me and called after me. I think they radio upstairs from the box office when someone is en route, which is an excellent idea. And so I panted gratefully into a seat near the door, at the back, because I was quite simply too exhausted to go any further than necessary. And after all that, it must have been at least another 10 minutes before the play actually started.
Right then. The Night before Christmas, in this incarnation, is a farcical musical set in a warehouse on Christmas Eve. The warehouse owner is lamenting being stuck there on his own when he hears a noise, and discovers.. an elf trying to break in. Well, he claims to be an elf. The owner ties him to a chair and calls his mate to come over, who's unimpressed and is all for calling the cops. But the owner seems to have a spark of Christmas spirit in him, and is interested in questioning this guy more, mindful of his own uncle who was delusional, and needed more sympathetic handling.
And so we launch into a hilarious play, incorporating some very dodgy singing, where we discover the answer to such questions as how Santa does get all those presents into the sleigh. It's laugh-out-loud funny, it's got a Christmas message, and that guy playing the elf is brilliant. Lasts an hour and 25 mins, no interval - so over nice and early. Recommended, for that alternative Christmas. And the crowds were less dense when I came out.
Still hoping to go to Richard II at the Barbican tomorrow. But the ticket was posted yesterday and not delivered, and since it's now to be delivered tomorrow, it will have to come to me at work, which means I need to phone them first thing and try to get the delivery address changed. Fingers crossed that all goes ok!
Then I arrived in Piccadilly Circus station and had no idea of the exit. I knew I needed Shaftesbury Avenue, but the signs were completely misleading and I surfaced on completely the wrong side of Piccadilly Circus, which meant I had to endure a number of road crossings. More time wasted. Approach this station with caution.. I'd have been lost without Google Maps Streeview, which reminded me I needed to take a left past Ripley's Believe it or Not!
So, aware that I was later than I should have been, I dashed down Shaftesbury Avenue, then down Dean Street. Well, I say dashed - and it was a bit easier when I got onto Dean Street, but even there I found myself walking on the road, it was easier. The crowds were terrible. I mean, it'd be fine if you weren't in a hurry, but all the swerving I had to do around groups of people that would stop suddenly in the middle of the path..!
I made the theatre just on the dot of start time. (Drum roll, please!) Third time lucky. Unfortunately, this is one of the places where there are a lot of stairs to climb, and of course I'd just had a 10-minute dash from the Tube. And then I got confused about which floor I was on. Luckily, the usher at the theatre door spotted me and called after me. I think they radio upstairs from the box office when someone is en route, which is an excellent idea. And so I panted gratefully into a seat near the door, at the back, because I was quite simply too exhausted to go any further than necessary. And after all that, it must have been at least another 10 minutes before the play actually started.
Right then. The Night before Christmas, in this incarnation, is a farcical musical set in a warehouse on Christmas Eve. The warehouse owner is lamenting being stuck there on his own when he hears a noise, and discovers.. an elf trying to break in. Well, he claims to be an elf. The owner ties him to a chair and calls his mate to come over, who's unimpressed and is all for calling the cops. But the owner seems to have a spark of Christmas spirit in him, and is interested in questioning this guy more, mindful of his own uncle who was delusional, and needed more sympathetic handling.
And so we launch into a hilarious play, incorporating some very dodgy singing, where we discover the answer to such questions as how Santa does get all those presents into the sleigh. It's laugh-out-loud funny, it's got a Christmas message, and that guy playing the elf is brilliant. Lasts an hour and 25 mins, no interval - so over nice and early. Recommended, for that alternative Christmas. And the crowds were less dense when I came out.
Still hoping to go to Richard II at the Barbican tomorrow. But the ticket was posted yesterday and not delivered, and since it's now to be delivered tomorrow, it will have to come to me at work, which means I need to phone them first thing and try to get the delivery address changed. Fingers crossed that all goes ok!
Saturday, 7 December 2013
Film: Inside Llewyn Davis
So, this is what happened today. I was wondering whether, and when, my ticket for Monday would arrive - I booked to see Richard II, which stars David Tennant, and it's selling like hot cakes. So I had to get it from Viagogo, which is a reseller, i.e. they sell secondhand things. Such as hard-to-get show tickets that other people are selling on, for whatever reason. And I had to pay for a courier, and had been told I would be notified when the ticket was dispatched.
The email came through at 11.13 this morning. I remember it well, I was so flustered - I was up, but not dressed yet, and fearful that a courier would ring my bell at any moment. So I rushed around and got myself presentable, and waited on tenterhooks, jumping at the sound of every car that passed. See, it's only coming from Salfords, I discovered, which is just over an hour's drive from here. Although they probably wouldn't drive straight here. But I expected that it could come this afternoon. Huh. Fat chance. And in waiting for it, I missed the film I had been going to see, which was on at 4.05. Well, I wasn't that pushed about it anyway. And at least I took the chance to hunt down some of the clothes I am planning to wear over the festive season.
So, the next film on my list was Inside Llewyn Davis. The blurb said it was about a week in the life of a folk singer in Greenwich Village in 1961. I thought it was a biopic. But then I took a good look today and discovered.. it's a Coen brothers' film! Had a look at the trailer, saw evidence of an orange cat that the guy carries around, figured he can't be all bad if he carries a cat. The cat looked happy enough, anyway. It was showing at the British Film Institute only (I discovered it's another preview), and when I checked, there were all of two seats left. So I booked the aisle seat, and off I went, intending to have one of those lovely crepes at the Southbank Christmas market beforehand.
The streets and my local station were packed with people exiting the British Military Tournament, showing this weekend at Earl's Court. Not my thing. But that was nothing to the crowds on the bridge, and in the market! If I had thought it was packed last Monday, I had another think coming. It took me ten solid minutes just to push my way through the crowd to the BFI. They were sold out of crepes, and the queues were too long to consider anything else. When I had collected my ticket, and was standing there, waiting and starving, I decided to try the café at the entrance to the BFI. After a ten-minute queue, I managed to buy a ham and cheese baguette, and got about half of it eaten before it was time to go into the cinema. So I stuffed the rest in my bag, and managed to finish it surreptitiously inside. Well, the BFI and its patrons can be stuffy about these things!
I love Coen brothers' films. This is a lovely, gentle comedy about a folk singer (played by Oscar Isaac - I've only seen him before as Prince John in the Russell Crowe version of Robin Hood) who, as one of his friends (played by Carey Mulligan, unrecognisable here, with long black hair, from her role in The Great Gatsby) remarks at one point, is "like King Midas' stupid younger brother". Everything he touches "turns to shit". And she's right. He can't do right for doing wrong. He makes all the wrong choices, and has the worst luck. Well, the boy can sing. And play guitar. And along the way, as mentioned, he acquires a cat. Packed with famous faces - we also have John Goodman, Justin Timberlake (with a beard), and even Marcus Mumford, of Mumford & Sons, who provides the vocals for our hero's erstwhile partner.
Afterwards, there was a Q+A with Oscar Isaac and T-Bone Burnett, who was the musical consultant on the film. I've never attended such an entertaining Q+A, with the guest speakers emphasising how wonderful it was to work with the Coens. The last question of the night was about the cat. "Oh, thank goodness!" exclaimed Oscar Isaac, "I thought nobody was going to ask about the cats. What a relief!" The audience member asked when he realised.. "What the cat's personality was?" he offered. "No, that there was an actual cat." "Ah yes," he replied, "that would be when I read the script. It became clear that the cat would not be animatronic." He went on to explain that there was more than one cat, "..because they can't be trained. They never did what we wanted them to. No, I would not recommend working with cats."
So, tomorrow should be more predictable, I'm going to see The Night before Christmas in the Soho Theatre. Mind you, this is the theatre that I keep meaning to go to but something always prevents me.. and as mentioned, I'm supposed to be going to Richard II at the Barbican on Monday. Well, they'll probably deliver that damned ticket on Monday, in which case they'll have to deliver it to me at work. I've given Viagogo the address - we'll see what happens.
The email came through at 11.13 this morning. I remember it well, I was so flustered - I was up, but not dressed yet, and fearful that a courier would ring my bell at any moment. So I rushed around and got myself presentable, and waited on tenterhooks, jumping at the sound of every car that passed. See, it's only coming from Salfords, I discovered, which is just over an hour's drive from here. Although they probably wouldn't drive straight here. But I expected that it could come this afternoon. Huh. Fat chance. And in waiting for it, I missed the film I had been going to see, which was on at 4.05. Well, I wasn't that pushed about it anyway. And at least I took the chance to hunt down some of the clothes I am planning to wear over the festive season.
So, the next film on my list was Inside Llewyn Davis. The blurb said it was about a week in the life of a folk singer in Greenwich Village in 1961. I thought it was a biopic. But then I took a good look today and discovered.. it's a Coen brothers' film! Had a look at the trailer, saw evidence of an orange cat that the guy carries around, figured he can't be all bad if he carries a cat. The cat looked happy enough, anyway. It was showing at the British Film Institute only (I discovered it's another preview), and when I checked, there were all of two seats left. So I booked the aisle seat, and off I went, intending to have one of those lovely crepes at the Southbank Christmas market beforehand.
The streets and my local station were packed with people exiting the British Military Tournament, showing this weekend at Earl's Court. Not my thing. But that was nothing to the crowds on the bridge, and in the market! If I had thought it was packed last Monday, I had another think coming. It took me ten solid minutes just to push my way through the crowd to the BFI. They were sold out of crepes, and the queues were too long to consider anything else. When I had collected my ticket, and was standing there, waiting and starving, I decided to try the café at the entrance to the BFI. After a ten-minute queue, I managed to buy a ham and cheese baguette, and got about half of it eaten before it was time to go into the cinema. So I stuffed the rest in my bag, and managed to finish it surreptitiously inside. Well, the BFI and its patrons can be stuffy about these things!
I love Coen brothers' films. This is a lovely, gentle comedy about a folk singer (played by Oscar Isaac - I've only seen him before as Prince John in the Russell Crowe version of Robin Hood) who, as one of his friends (played by Carey Mulligan, unrecognisable here, with long black hair, from her role in The Great Gatsby) remarks at one point, is "like King Midas' stupid younger brother". Everything he touches "turns to shit". And she's right. He can't do right for doing wrong. He makes all the wrong choices, and has the worst luck. Well, the boy can sing. And play guitar. And along the way, as mentioned, he acquires a cat. Packed with famous faces - we also have John Goodman, Justin Timberlake (with a beard), and even Marcus Mumford, of Mumford & Sons, who provides the vocals for our hero's erstwhile partner.
Afterwards, there was a Q+A with Oscar Isaac and T-Bone Burnett, who was the musical consultant on the film. I've never attended such an entertaining Q+A, with the guest speakers emphasising how wonderful it was to work with the Coens. The last question of the night was about the cat. "Oh, thank goodness!" exclaimed Oscar Isaac, "I thought nobody was going to ask about the cats. What a relief!" The audience member asked when he realised.. "What the cat's personality was?" he offered. "No, that there was an actual cat." "Ah yes," he replied, "that would be when I read the script. It became clear that the cat would not be animatronic." He went on to explain that there was more than one cat, "..because they can't be trained. They never did what we wanted them to. No, I would not recommend working with cats."
So, tomorrow should be more predictable, I'm going to see The Night before Christmas in the Soho Theatre. Mind you, this is the theatre that I keep meaning to go to but something always prevents me.. and as mentioned, I'm supposed to be going to Richard II at the Barbican on Monday. Well, they'll probably deliver that damned ticket on Monday, in which case they'll have to deliver it to me at work. I've given Viagogo the address - we'll see what happens.
Friday, 6 December 2013
Film: Fanny
So, I went to see Fanny tonight. Silly me, I got confused, with everything that's on. It wasn't in the Ciné Lumiere, it's in the Odeon Panton Street. As I discovered today when I checked. Thought I could use my Odeon points at last - I won't be going there so much now that my local is a Cineworld - but it turned out I didn't have quite enough, since prices are more expensive there. Nuts! Ah well.
I walked into an empty cinema. It stayed empty until right before the film started, when a couple of Spanish ladies came in. Not a popular film then, and I predict it won't be there next week. Well, I'm not surprised - I only heard of Daniel Auteuil when I saw him in a couple of films previously, neither of which were big releases. He might be a big deal in France, but certainly not here. And the fact that he writes, directs, and stars in this will mean nothing to most people.
It's a shame, because this is actually a lovely film. Apparently, it's the second in the Marseille trilogy, based on the writings of Marcel Pagnol, who also wrote Jean de Florette and Manon des Sources, both of which starred Daniel Auteuil in the film versions. Based in Marseille in the 20s, it tells the story of César, a bar-owner, his son, Marius, and Marius' girlfriend, Fanny. The first in the trilogy, Marius, is currently showing at four cinemas in the city centre. The third, César, is still in production.
Now, it's no masterpiece. But it is simple, charming, and engaging. The story tells how Fanny is distraught that Marius has chosen a life at sea over her, and feels unwell, so she goes to the doctor, only to discover that she's pregnant. With Marius due to be gone for five years, she can see no way out but to marry César's old friend, who has always wanted to marry her and can now provide her and the baby with the security they need. But she will always love Marius, and the final scene is unexpectedly devastating. Creeps up on you, this film. And she's brilliant in it. Shame more people won't see it, because I think a lot of people would enjoy it.
And tomorrow is looking like another film. Currently top of the list is Breathless, another Jean-Luc Godard film - a 1960 thriller. Screens tomorrow afternoon in the Prince Charles Cinema, off Leicester Square. I like this cinema - it's very cheap for the area (about half what I paid this evening..!), it's quirky, with things like pyjama parties, all-nighters, and beer and pizza nights, it shows unusual and old films, and it has very comfortable seats. I just don't trust its ATMs. And I hear there's often a Winter market in Leicester Square - must have a look.
For Sunday and Monday, I've booked plays, for a change! Sunday will be The Night before Christmas, at Soho Theatre. Seasonal it may be, but traditional it ain't. In this version, an elf is caught breaking into a warehouse, and interrogated about Santa Claus. A very different tale from what we're used to, indeed! Interestingly, the price they quote on the website is £5 more than what they actually charge at the checkouts..
On Monday, I'm supposed to be going to see The Royal Shakespeare Company's new production of Richard II, starring David Tennant, who apparently plays a blinder. It's at the Barbican (I dunno, I don't go for ages, and then I go twice in a few days..!) Thing is, the Barbican website didn't have any tickets left, and the cheapest I could find was a seat in the nosebleeds (should be ok at the Barbican though, it's a good modern venue) with Viagogo. I've never booked with them before, and it seems I have to have the ticket delivered to me and sign for it, I can't just pick it up at the venue. At least they guarantee I don't have to pay if they don't get the ticket to me in time!
I walked into an empty cinema. It stayed empty until right before the film started, when a couple of Spanish ladies came in. Not a popular film then, and I predict it won't be there next week. Well, I'm not surprised - I only heard of Daniel Auteuil when I saw him in a couple of films previously, neither of which were big releases. He might be a big deal in France, but certainly not here. And the fact that he writes, directs, and stars in this will mean nothing to most people.
It's a shame, because this is actually a lovely film. Apparently, it's the second in the Marseille trilogy, based on the writings of Marcel Pagnol, who also wrote Jean de Florette and Manon des Sources, both of which starred Daniel Auteuil in the film versions. Based in Marseille in the 20s, it tells the story of César, a bar-owner, his son, Marius, and Marius' girlfriend, Fanny. The first in the trilogy, Marius, is currently showing at four cinemas in the city centre. The third, César, is still in production.
Now, it's no masterpiece. But it is simple, charming, and engaging. The story tells how Fanny is distraught that Marius has chosen a life at sea over her, and feels unwell, so she goes to the doctor, only to discover that she's pregnant. With Marius due to be gone for five years, she can see no way out but to marry César's old friend, who has always wanted to marry her and can now provide her and the baby with the security they need. But she will always love Marius, and the final scene is unexpectedly devastating. Creeps up on you, this film. And she's brilliant in it. Shame more people won't see it, because I think a lot of people would enjoy it.
And tomorrow is looking like another film. Currently top of the list is Breathless, another Jean-Luc Godard film - a 1960 thriller. Screens tomorrow afternoon in the Prince Charles Cinema, off Leicester Square. I like this cinema - it's very cheap for the area (about half what I paid this evening..!), it's quirky, with things like pyjama parties, all-nighters, and beer and pizza nights, it shows unusual and old films, and it has very comfortable seats. I just don't trust its ATMs. And I hear there's often a Winter market in Leicester Square - must have a look.
For Sunday and Monday, I've booked plays, for a change! Sunday will be The Night before Christmas, at Soho Theatre. Seasonal it may be, but traditional it ain't. In this version, an elf is caught breaking into a warehouse, and interrogated about Santa Claus. A very different tale from what we're used to, indeed! Interestingly, the price they quote on the website is £5 more than what they actually charge at the checkouts..
On Monday, I'm supposed to be going to see The Royal Shakespeare Company's new production of Richard II, starring David Tennant, who apparently plays a blinder. It's at the Barbican (I dunno, I don't go for ages, and then I go twice in a few days..!) Thing is, the Barbican website didn't have any tickets left, and the cheapest I could find was a seat in the nosebleeds (should be ok at the Barbican though, it's a good modern venue) with Viagogo. I've never booked with them before, and it seems I have to have the ticket delivered to me and sign for it, I can't just pick it up at the venue. At least they guarantee I don't have to pay if they don't get the ticket to me in time!
Thursday, 5 December 2013
Film: Saving Mr Banks
Chim-chiminee, chim-chim-cheroo..
Well, since I booked a ticket for Saving Mr Banks (since I was going to Cineworld and they give a discount for booking), I have to confess that I've been humming songs from Mary Poppins instead of Christmas songs! It's about the signing of the rights to the book by Walt Disney, you see, which led to the making of the film.
Anyway, I decided to go to my local Cineworld, which is close enough to home that I can walk, but not close enough to work for that, so I got the bus. (Funnily enough, I phoned my mother from the bus stop, where I could see a bus on that route at the stand, where it was letting off people but wouldn't take any on. I mentioned that to her, but she thought I had said "boss" and that I was fired! ;-)
The bus let me off about five minutes' walk from the cinema, and on the way I came across the most gorgeous Christmas shop! I would have loved to go in, but hadn't time before the film. But I resolved to come back.
I had printed out my confirmation email, with the scannable code, but there was such trouble in getting it to scan that I think I'll get my ticket from the ATM in future. Seating was unallocated. Terrific legroom - I was in a row that allowed me to stretch my legs completely!
And so to the film. Now, this is extremely cleverly made. You could consider it a masterclass in filmmaking, unlike some I could mention. Basically, Walt Disney (played by Tom Hanks) had been trying for the past 20 years to get the rights to Mary Poppins from the writer, Mrs. P. L. Travers (played by Emma Thompson). This is the story of how he managed it. What impressed me most was the way the tone of the film changed, from stiff and starchy at the beginning (just like the lady herself) to all-singing, all-dancing warmth by the end. Perfect. (Oh, and if you think she's overdoing the frostiness, just hang around for the closing credits - she insisted, in real life too, that the sessions where she was collaborating with the scriptwriter and songwriters were recorded, and part of those recordings is played over the credits. You would not believe how true to life Emma Thompson is!)
Much of the film concerns itself with her flashbacks to her childhood, and her alcoholic father (Colin Farrell) to whom she was devoted. And these flashbacks, so different from the world of Hollywood she now finds herself in, are fascinating. The film is an absolute delight, and I defy anyone familiar with Mary Poppins to keep from tapping their hands or feet, or nodding, to the music, which features largely. Or humming it coming out. Particularly the closing song, which turns out to be so important in the story. Really, if you ever liked Mary Poppins, you have to see this! And what good timing, to release just before Christmas a film about the making of another film that is such a perfect Christmas watch!
Paid a visit to the loo on the way out. Very small cubicles.. Then I paid a visit to the Christmas shop, which was closed, of course. But the stock visible from the window looked terrific - I'll be back. Thought about maybe eating in one of the plentiful restaurants along the way, but ultimately ate at home.
For tomorrow, I was looking at an exhibition of 3D printing at the Science Museum, but there was some confusion over the closing time, and that on the website would mean I couldn't get there in time from work, so instead I'm planning another film. Didn't fancy the Turkish romance that would see me heading to a cinema an hour away and not getting back until after midnight - a lot of effort for something I don't really care about. So that leaves Fanny, a French film, directed and written by, and starring, Daniel Auteuil. In the Ciné Lumiere, appropriately - the cinema in the Institut Francais. Much closer than that Turkish film, anyhow.
Well, since I booked a ticket for Saving Mr Banks (since I was going to Cineworld and they give a discount for booking), I have to confess that I've been humming songs from Mary Poppins instead of Christmas songs! It's about the signing of the rights to the book by Walt Disney, you see, which led to the making of the film.
Anyway, I decided to go to my local Cineworld, which is close enough to home that I can walk, but not close enough to work for that, so I got the bus. (Funnily enough, I phoned my mother from the bus stop, where I could see a bus on that route at the stand, where it was letting off people but wouldn't take any on. I mentioned that to her, but she thought I had said "boss" and that I was fired! ;-)
The bus let me off about five minutes' walk from the cinema, and on the way I came across the most gorgeous Christmas shop! I would have loved to go in, but hadn't time before the film. But I resolved to come back.
I had printed out my confirmation email, with the scannable code, but there was such trouble in getting it to scan that I think I'll get my ticket from the ATM in future. Seating was unallocated. Terrific legroom - I was in a row that allowed me to stretch my legs completely!
And so to the film. Now, this is extremely cleverly made. You could consider it a masterclass in filmmaking, unlike some I could mention. Basically, Walt Disney (played by Tom Hanks) had been trying for the past 20 years to get the rights to Mary Poppins from the writer, Mrs. P. L. Travers (played by Emma Thompson). This is the story of how he managed it. What impressed me most was the way the tone of the film changed, from stiff and starchy at the beginning (just like the lady herself) to all-singing, all-dancing warmth by the end. Perfect. (Oh, and if you think she's overdoing the frostiness, just hang around for the closing credits - she insisted, in real life too, that the sessions where she was collaborating with the scriptwriter and songwriters were recorded, and part of those recordings is played over the credits. You would not believe how true to life Emma Thompson is!)
Much of the film concerns itself with her flashbacks to her childhood, and her alcoholic father (Colin Farrell) to whom she was devoted. And these flashbacks, so different from the world of Hollywood she now finds herself in, are fascinating. The film is an absolute delight, and I defy anyone familiar with Mary Poppins to keep from tapping their hands or feet, or nodding, to the music, which features largely. Or humming it coming out. Particularly the closing song, which turns out to be so important in the story. Really, if you ever liked Mary Poppins, you have to see this! And what good timing, to release just before Christmas a film about the making of another film that is such a perfect Christmas watch!
Paid a visit to the loo on the way out. Very small cubicles.. Then I paid a visit to the Christmas shop, which was closed, of course. But the stock visible from the window looked terrific - I'll be back. Thought about maybe eating in one of the plentiful restaurants along the way, but ultimately ate at home.
For tomorrow, I was looking at an exhibition of 3D printing at the Science Museum, but there was some confusion over the closing time, and that on the website would mean I couldn't get there in time from work, so instead I'm planning another film. Didn't fancy the Turkish romance that would see me heading to a cinema an hour away and not getting back until after midnight - a lot of effort for something I don't really care about. So that leaves Fanny, a French film, directed and written by, and starring, Daniel Auteuil. In the Ciné Lumiere, appropriately - the cinema in the Institut Francais. Much closer than that Turkish film, anyhow.
Wednesday, 4 December 2013
Film: Le Mépris
It's a long while since I've been in the Barbican, where Le Mépris, directed by Jean-Luc Godard, was showing tonight. One night only, for a film that's 50 years old this year and constantly popping up in the listings. Since it's highly rated on IMDB, I was bound to see it eventually, and finally did tonight.
As usual, I had to look up how to get there. It's on the other side of town, so I have several options. Google Maps always gives four choices, and the fastest involved getting the Overground to Shepherd's Bush, then the Tube to St Paul's and a fifteen minute walk. However, for the return journey they suggested taking the Tube the whole way from Barbican Station to my local one, which involves one change. This is a cheaper route, as it's all by Tube rather than adding an Overground journey, for which I'd be charged extra - also, it involves less walking. Which is not something I avoid, but it is very cold out. So that's the way I chose.
When I got there, I had no trouble remembering the way - just cross the road and down the tunnel. The cinemas are on the left. Funnily enough, I got exactly the seat I'd been looking at online. Went to the toilet beforehand - there are only two cubicles, and they're both unisex, for future reference. Anyhow, I just made it nicely in time and took my seat, past two elderly ladies at the end of the row.
I was a bit worried prior to seeing this. You see, it stars Brigitte Bardot. Nothing against the lady, but I had a certain expectation of how she would be represented onscreen. And that is exactly how she was represented in this. Tons of black eyeliner, lots of gratuitous nudity, and very little else to do but pout. The storyline has her married to a writer who's being wooed to write a screenplay for a cartoonishly obnoxious film producer, played by Jack Palance. Her husband seems to be pushing her in the direction of this guy, who leers merrily at her at every opportunity. That, to be fair, gives her reason enough to pout.
Oh, and she fiddles with her hair. Well, actually it starts with her husband fiddling with her hair, as the camera lovingly glides over her naked buttocks. And legs. And buttocks again. And she keeps asking him whether he likes the various bits of her. To which, wisely, he replies in the affirmative. After that, she fiddles with her own hair, as the marriage deteriorates. Well, and she gets a wig at some point, just for a change, and fiddles with that. Mind you, I would hate to pick on her - the only other woman in the film that has a main role spends a substantial portion of her time fiddling with her own hair.
I do wonder whether Godard didn't have a crush on BB, considering that practically every time she's on screen, or we're asked to be sympathetic to her, they bring out the strings. Now, it's a lovely piece of music, but I started to groan every time it came on, because we were going to be focusing on HER again. And there was no variation to the music! no different parts. Just the same melody, over and over.
I came out with the impression that I'd just seen something very stylish, with a lovely bit of music. And that I was very glad it was over! (And yes, I did sigh with relief when SPOILER ALERT she and Jack Palance were killed in a car crash.) The elderly ladies outside me, on the other hand, were waxing lyrical about how beautiful she was. Sorry, I didn't see anything special about her. Nice figure, yes. Very heavily made-up. Dye Cheryl Cole's hair blonde and cake her in eye makeup and she'd be a dead ringer. Or any number of other ladies in the public eye. And that hairstyle! Bird's nest doesn't describe it.
Watching the video montage from the film that accompanies the above clip on YouTube, the film looks a lot better than it is. And it's a pity, because watching it, I can appreciate how much more sympathy I'd have felt for her character if she had done anything throughout the film but sulk and behave like a spoilt child, if she had made some of her own decisions. And the scenery is gorgeous. Hey-ho. Tomorrow is Saving Mr. Banks, which, ironically, is set around the same period, but of course was made much more recently. I'm sure we won't see Emma Thompson twiddling her hair while she negotiates a film deal for her book..
As usual, I had to look up how to get there. It's on the other side of town, so I have several options. Google Maps always gives four choices, and the fastest involved getting the Overground to Shepherd's Bush, then the Tube to St Paul's and a fifteen minute walk. However, for the return journey they suggested taking the Tube the whole way from Barbican Station to my local one, which involves one change. This is a cheaper route, as it's all by Tube rather than adding an Overground journey, for which I'd be charged extra - also, it involves less walking. Which is not something I avoid, but it is very cold out. So that's the way I chose.
When I got there, I had no trouble remembering the way - just cross the road and down the tunnel. The cinemas are on the left. Funnily enough, I got exactly the seat I'd been looking at online. Went to the toilet beforehand - there are only two cubicles, and they're both unisex, for future reference. Anyhow, I just made it nicely in time and took my seat, past two elderly ladies at the end of the row.
I was a bit worried prior to seeing this. You see, it stars Brigitte Bardot. Nothing against the lady, but I had a certain expectation of how she would be represented onscreen. And that is exactly how she was represented in this. Tons of black eyeliner, lots of gratuitous nudity, and very little else to do but pout. The storyline has her married to a writer who's being wooed to write a screenplay for a cartoonishly obnoxious film producer, played by Jack Palance. Her husband seems to be pushing her in the direction of this guy, who leers merrily at her at every opportunity. That, to be fair, gives her reason enough to pout.
Oh, and she fiddles with her hair. Well, actually it starts with her husband fiddling with her hair, as the camera lovingly glides over her naked buttocks. And legs. And buttocks again. And she keeps asking him whether he likes the various bits of her. To which, wisely, he replies in the affirmative. After that, she fiddles with her own hair, as the marriage deteriorates. Well, and she gets a wig at some point, just for a change, and fiddles with that. Mind you, I would hate to pick on her - the only other woman in the film that has a main role spends a substantial portion of her time fiddling with her own hair.
I do wonder whether Godard didn't have a crush on BB, considering that practically every time she's on screen, or we're asked to be sympathetic to her, they bring out the strings. Now, it's a lovely piece of music, but I started to groan every time it came on, because we were going to be focusing on HER again. And there was no variation to the music! no different parts. Just the same melody, over and over.
I came out with the impression that I'd just seen something very stylish, with a lovely bit of music. And that I was very glad it was over! (And yes, I did sigh with relief when SPOILER ALERT she and Jack Palance were killed in a car crash.) The elderly ladies outside me, on the other hand, were waxing lyrical about how beautiful she was. Sorry, I didn't see anything special about her. Nice figure, yes. Very heavily made-up. Dye Cheryl Cole's hair blonde and cake her in eye makeup and she'd be a dead ringer. Or any number of other ladies in the public eye. And that hairstyle! Bird's nest doesn't describe it.
Watching the video montage from the film that accompanies the above clip on YouTube, the film looks a lot better than it is. And it's a pity, because watching it, I can appreciate how much more sympathy I'd have felt for her character if she had done anything throughout the film but sulk and behave like a spoilt child, if she had made some of her own decisions. And the scenery is gorgeous. Hey-ho. Tomorrow is Saving Mr. Banks, which, ironically, is set around the same period, but of course was made much more recently. I'm sure we won't see Emma Thompson twiddling her hair while she negotiates a film deal for her book..
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)