Sunday, 23 December 2012
Josh Widdicombe
Josh Widdicombe and Charlie Baker, Spring Tour
Blackheath Halls, June 8 2012
There’s a very fine line between good taste and bad. Good comedians spend their lives on this edge. Cross over and they shock, stray too far and they bore, the key is in finding a balance. Josh Widdicombe is still looking for his own path to tread but in the meantime he is funny and sharp.
The same can’t be said for his warm-up, Charlie Baker, who was crude and vulgar and coarse. Unstructured, unfunny, he raised barely a smile, his interaction with the audience quite dismal. And yet, between jokes, he sang jazz, what a marvellous voice, a pity he didn’t sing more. He tried too hard to please and fell flat on his face, a contrast with what was to follow.
Widdicombe engaged with the audience from the start, engaging and personable and relaxed. “Why is it we call it a gravy boat”, he laments,” when the liquid stays inside the vessel?” He gathers his material from everyday life, the small things that most of us miss. Our computers keep asking, send error report? No thanks, he responds, I’m no grass. The trips down to Argos “guessing what might be stock” - “why don’t they put what they have in the shop?” Or the miniature items you can find in the gift shops like “rucksacks for guinea pigs who travel”.
A Devon lad by birth (1983), his rise has been swift, his first performance back in 2008
(The Edinburgh Fringe Festival). His material has been good enough for both radio (Frank Skinner Show) and TV (Mock the Week and 8 out of 10 Cats) and he has gone on live tour with the best (Michael Macintyre and Shappi Khorsandi). While his structure is bare, the jokes keep on coming, they are clever and thoughtful and quick.” His place is quite firmly in the middle of the road and for families and children he is safe. ”What kind of house has 9 rooms but no toilet (Cluedo) and why don’t the characters call the police?
The show fails to build to an out and out climax but the humour stays sharp till the end.
“It’s not tetris”, he tells the waitress at Wagamama’s when added to a party of 3.
Widdicombe is good and over time could be great. A comfortable and funny night out. 8/10
Dick Morgan
June 2012
I’m sure that bull is much more frightened of you than you are of it’)
Greenwich Park
Sunday September 2, 2012
A sky full of rain was not what we wanted, a day at the Dressage ahead of us. But no amount of bad weather was about to deter us- this new generation of Britains.
The Volunteer Army – what dedication they have shown – was once again present, a smile on each face, helpful comments en route. We were sped through security with military precision and once in the Park, the drizzle had stopped. Greenwich Park in its glory rose out of the mist, its view over London, unparalleled. Down the hill to refreshments – too early for queues – the coffee and croissants most welcome. Slipping into our seats our breath was taken away, the arena stunning against a backdrop of Wren. Rarely can sport have been set in such splendor, the Queen’s House, Naval College and Observatory. “So much better than tele”, my mother observed, “I’d no idea that they had done such a good job”.
As one we rose to welcome the athletes (waving only, clapping frightens the horses), the cold forgotten in the face of their courage. This delicate sport is both complex and neat, the rider and horse merged as one. Control is its essence as the power of the beast is entirely transformed into grace. Its speed is reduced, its movements restricted and it executes exactly as bidden; half and full passes, piaffes (alternate diagonals), reining back (moving backwards), flying changes (changing lead legs), trotting and cantors.
The various events are classified by impediment to ensure the optimal consistency and fairness. Each rider’s background was announced over the tanoy, each personal disability explained. However, the class we were watching (Grade 4 – least disability) seemed quite difficult to fathom with a wider range of impediment than expected; Nathalie Bizet (part sighted) who was 10th,James Dwyer (loss of limb) who was 6th to the winner (restricted joints), Michele George.
It’s already been said but it’s still worth repeating; the Games have altered the way that we think; more positive and constructive, more happy and hopeful, more tolerant and understanding of others. If all this can take place in such a short space of time, roll on Rio in 2016.
Dick Morgan
September 2012.
David Lodge
David Lodge; HG Well; A Man of Parts
Blackheath Halls, Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Fictional biography is currently in vogue, a life story woven in fact. The attraction is clear with invention superfluous, the writer connecting the dots. Sir David Lodge, a major exponent, spoke eloquently of his love for his art; “ it’s underrated, controversial and I am implicitly defensive”… of this medium which “brings characters back to life”.
Lodge most recent book - A Man of Parts – is a voluminous work (556 pages) the life of the author HG Wells. “For years I’ve admired him, this writer and scientist… but I am not really sure that I liked him”.
The book opens with Wells near the end of his life (1866-1946) looking back on his past with mixed feelings. An impoverished childhood in a shop down in Bromley, an apprenticeship he is said to have hated. Small and rotund, sickly and weak, his future looked decidedly bleak. But then an epiphany – “I decided to stop dying” -
and he started to write and 100 books later he stopped. The Time Machine (1895) brought him immediate fame, The Invisible Man (1897) quickly after. The War of The Worlds (1898) had people fleeing their homes when read on the radio in New York.
Lodge warmed to his subject, to this most unusual of men, a literary and articulate scientist. He foretold the future from TV to (atom) bombs and has “blazed in the firmament…for decades”.
But Lodge’s delivery lacked warmth and engagement too instructive to connect with the audience. Wells too was didactic on evolution and politics, a socialist till the end of his days. In his dealings with women he was surprisingly liberal describing sex like “tennis or badminton”. Free love, open marriage were the rules of his game – 2 marriages and over 100 partners. “However did he find the time”, Lodge mused.
The book is well written, well researched and flows strongly, author / subject affinities - lower middle class, south London childhoods – quite intriguing. But while he brings Wells back to life with both affection and power there are question marks over the medium. Wells imagined, he invented, he foresaw and foretold, Lodge recounts what the other man wrote.
Lodge started, continued and concluded with Wells, not even his epitaph was off limits.“ I told you so, you damn fools”, Wells is said to have written; how appropriate and utterly correct.
Good if not gripping. 6/10.
Dick Morgan, November 2012
Jane Ridley
Jane Ridley; Bertie; a Life of Edward VII
Blackheath Halls, Wednesday, September 17, 2012
Just like his mother he gave his name to an era. But Victorian prudence, good taste and restraint were not for King Edward VII. His legacy speaks to hunting and shooting, to gambling and pleasure to philandering with prominent women. Shameless wastrel and hedonist or misunderstood and ignored by a mother who loathed him? Jane Ridley's new book - Bertie; A Life of King Edward VII - sheds new light on the man who for 6 decades stood as heir to the throne.
With unparalleled access to the (Royal) Archives at Windsor, the book was 9 years in the writing. "I got lost in the detail", she told her small band of listeners and "found myself liking the man". The seeds of his struggles were apparent from childhood. A rebellious nature – “he howled in the corner” and overshadowed by a brilliant sister (Vicky) who at three was fluent in French. But much more compelling, he was starved of emotion by a mother who "shuddered" to touch him.
He sought solace elsewhere with little discretion and the family was shocked and embarrassed. To bring him in line he was soon married off, to Alexandra of Denmark who adored him and bore him six children. But something was missing and again he went wild with a series of well known affairs; from ambitious Lily Langtree and babbling Daisy Brooke to the legendary actress, Sarah Bernhardt. His mother was outraged and refused to admit him; "Bertie is unfit to be King", she lamented.
But worse was to follow (1861) with the death of poor Albert from which Victoria never recovered. Bertie was blamed, she perennially wore black and she abandoned her duties as sovereign. It was Bertie who picked up the reigns she had dropped, reinventing the idea of monarchy (and even coining the phrase, “Royal Family”).In 1901 he acceded the throne – “it’s come too late”, he’s believed to have said. But this fashionable socialite confounded his critics and worked tirelessly till his death 9 years later. The Navy was modernised, the Army restructured and the Entente Cordiale (1904) signed with France.
This revisionist biography skips over his faults, his bad habits and his rather large waist (48 inches). But with insight and humour and unending research, Ridley brings us a brand new perspective. She was refreshingly candid when asked just why she wrote it; “my editor tells me biographies sell best”.
Thoughtful, insightful and touching. 8/10.
Dick Morgan, October 2012
Sunday, 12 February 2012
“Twelfth Night” or, “What You Will”
Greenwich Theatre,
January 17 - 21, 2012
The bard back in Greenwich!
Men dressed as women, women dressed as men, mistaken identity, coincidence and chance. Elizabethan humour does not always translate, modern day audiences too sophisticated for farce. But the new Movement Theatre presses on undeterred, making the most of a poor plot and bringing the humour to life.
Written in 1601, Twelfth Night is the third (after Much Ado and As You Like It) and last of Shakespeare’s so-called, “mature” comedies, outwardly comic pieces but with darker undertones attached. While it begins fairly brightly - the good Duke of Orsino (Ellis Wells) courting the fair Countess Olivia (Georgia Clarke-Day) – she rejects his advances, overwhelmed as she is by her brother’s recent death. Darkness strikes once more as the young maiden Viola, thrown up on the shore, sees her own brother drowned, lost in a storm.
Only when Viola dresses up as a man, - to gain advancement at court – does the Shakespearean comedy finally flow, Malvolio’s (Ben Blyth) haughty monologues confirming the lighter tone. For a while thereafter, the comedy continues, Orsino’s disrobing before a startled Viola, Malvolio’s wooing, - complete with culottes and garters - of a bewildered Olivia, two knights of the realm, Toby Belch (Tom Hartill) and Andrew Aguecheek (Laurie Caldwell), barely concealed in the woods, but soon the dark themes return to put an end to the fun; that love can cause suffering, Olivia describing her love as a “plague”, the folly of ambition or the collapse of the mind.
The Movement’s second production (their inaugural tour with The Tempest just completed) is vibrant and fun but carefully balances the contrasting themes. The direction (Rory Attwood) is good, the (minimalist) staging - Christmas trees and leaves - effective and, perhaps best of all, the acting first rate. Ellis Wells in particular is especially strong, relaxed in his role and compelling to watch, his exchanges with Viola – sassily played by a promising Sarah Winter – refreshingly new. Ben Blyth’s steward Malvolio is not far behind, his delivery clear, his articulation tight as he delicately solicits both our pity and disdain.
Were these dark seated elements simply reflecting the age – a cold winter, Queen Bess dying (heirless), religious civil war looming near – or more simply a function of the author’s state of mind, the tragic loss of his son (leaving a twin sister bereft) still fresh in his mind? No matter the answer, it’s an enjoyable night out.
Highly competent. 7/10. DM
January 2012
Greenwich Theatre,
January 17 - 21, 2012
The bard back in Greenwich!
Men dressed as women, women dressed as men, mistaken identity, coincidence and chance. Elizabethan humour does not always translate, modern day audiences too sophisticated for farce. But the new Movement Theatre presses on undeterred, making the most of a poor plot and bringing the humour to life.
Written in 1601, Twelfth Night is the third (after Much Ado and As You Like It) and last of Shakespeare’s so-called, “mature” comedies, outwardly comic pieces but with darker undertones attached. While it begins fairly brightly - the good Duke of Orsino (Ellis Wells) courting the fair Countess Olivia (Georgia Clarke-Day) – she rejects his advances, overwhelmed as she is by her brother’s recent death. Darkness strikes once more as the young maiden Viola, thrown up on the shore, sees her own brother drowned, lost in a storm.
Only when Viola dresses up as a man, - to gain advancement at court – does the Shakespearean comedy finally flow, Malvolio’s (Ben Blyth) haughty monologues confirming the lighter tone. For a while thereafter, the comedy continues, Orsino’s disrobing before a startled Viola, Malvolio’s wooing, - complete with culottes and garters - of a bewildered Olivia, two knights of the realm, Toby Belch (Tom Hartill) and Andrew Aguecheek (Laurie Caldwell), barely concealed in the woods, but soon the dark themes return to put an end to the fun; that love can cause suffering, Olivia describing her love as a “plague”, the folly of ambition or the collapse of the mind.
The Movement’s second production (their inaugural tour with The Tempest just completed) is vibrant and fun but carefully balances the contrasting themes. The direction (Rory Attwood) is good, the (minimalist) staging - Christmas trees and leaves - effective and, perhaps best of all, the acting first rate. Ellis Wells in particular is especially strong, relaxed in his role and compelling to watch, his exchanges with Viola – sassily played by a promising Sarah Winter – refreshingly new. Ben Blyth’s steward Malvolio is not far behind, his delivery clear, his articulation tight as he delicately solicits both our pity and disdain.
Were these dark seated elements simply reflecting the age – a cold winter, Queen Bess dying (heirless), religious civil war looming near – or more simply a function of the author’s state of mind, the tragic loss of his son (leaving a twin sister bereft) still fresh in his mind? No matter the answer, it’s an enjoyable night out.
Highly competent. 7/10. DM
January 2012
The Sword and the Dope,
Greenwich Playhouse - January 17 – February 5, 2012
Take a dollop of Monty Python, add a sprinkling of Benny Hill and pour the odd-looking mixture onto a pantomime base. Leave it to stew for an hour and a half until the wits of the audience become dulled. Thus the ingredients of the musical comedy, The Sword and The Dove, currently playing at the Greenwich Playhouse for a mind- numbing 14 more days. What on earth did the two chefs, writer Michael Horspool and director Matthew Gould, have in mind?
The opening number, Long, Long Ago, which went on, on, and on, set the tone for the rest of the night. It lacked humour and wit and was laboured and long and became painful to watch by the end. Had it not been for the actors who soldiered manfully on we would have walked out with the rest at half time. But against all logic and sense we simply stayed where we were, firmly hoping (against hope) it would improve. We were wrong.
Based on the legend of King Arthur and his Knights, but with references to mobile phones, the story lacked structure, was disjointed and weak and consisted of a series of short scenes. We might not have noticed had the writing been funny, but the writer - described in the programme as “stumbling into script writing” – was continuously wide of the mark. Ostensibly for adults, the humour was puerile – “I've something in the oven - I hope it's not a bun” – perhaps the funniest joke of the night. Even the narrators, Bosstock (Patrick Rowe) and Rumpkin (Sam George), a sort of mediaeval Ant and Dec, were laboured and painful and ended up by simply making matters worse. But if the humour was bad, the music was worse - from the tuneless, The Black Knight, He’s all Right, to the rock anthem, No Matter What, with lyrics that would have embarrassed a child.
That the cast carried on was a credit to them all, the second half even worse than the first. Energetic and diligent, they were usually on cue despite a continual and embarrassing lack of laughter. Alas, no-one stood out although Will Seaward (Perceval) caught the eye, his curious accents and over-acting, amusing and Jay Perry, a former S Club Junior - "currently working on a series of personal projects" - could at least sing in tune. Why Gould didn’t tell Horspool to simply rewrite the script is a question that is frankly beyond me.
As bad as it gets. 1/10, for the actors.
DM
January 2012
Greenwich Playhouse - January 17 – February 5, 2012
Take a dollop of Monty Python, add a sprinkling of Benny Hill and pour the odd-looking mixture onto a pantomime base. Leave it to stew for an hour and a half until the wits of the audience become dulled. Thus the ingredients of the musical comedy, The Sword and The Dove, currently playing at the Greenwich Playhouse for a mind- numbing 14 more days. What on earth did the two chefs, writer Michael Horspool and director Matthew Gould, have in mind?
The opening number, Long, Long Ago, which went on, on, and on, set the tone for the rest of the night. It lacked humour and wit and was laboured and long and became painful to watch by the end. Had it not been for the actors who soldiered manfully on we would have walked out with the rest at half time. But against all logic and sense we simply stayed where we were, firmly hoping (against hope) it would improve. We were wrong.
Based on the legend of King Arthur and his Knights, but with references to mobile phones, the story lacked structure, was disjointed and weak and consisted of a series of short scenes. We might not have noticed had the writing been funny, but the writer - described in the programme as “stumbling into script writing” – was continuously wide of the mark. Ostensibly for adults, the humour was puerile – “I've something in the oven - I hope it's not a bun” – perhaps the funniest joke of the night. Even the narrators, Bosstock (Patrick Rowe) and Rumpkin (Sam George), a sort of mediaeval Ant and Dec, were laboured and painful and ended up by simply making matters worse. But if the humour was bad, the music was worse - from the tuneless, The Black Knight, He’s all Right, to the rock anthem, No Matter What, with lyrics that would have embarrassed a child.
That the cast carried on was a credit to them all, the second half even worse than the first. Energetic and diligent, they were usually on cue despite a continual and embarrassing lack of laughter. Alas, no-one stood out although Will Seaward (Perceval) caught the eye, his curious accents and over-acting, amusing and Jay Perry, a former S Club Junior - "currently working on a series of personal projects" - could at least sing in tune. Why Gould didn’t tell Horspool to simply rewrite the script is a question that is frankly beyond me.
As bad as it gets. 1/10, for the actors.
DM
January 2012
The Muppets (PG) 2011, 98 minutes
Elton John was almost eaten by crocodiles, Sylvester Stallone torn apart by a lion and Christopher Reeve karate-chopped by a pig. Yet still the stars kept on coming; Gene Kelly, Steve Martin, Racquel Welch and Bob Hope. But The Muppets Christmas Carol movie was a lifetime ago (1992). So, why are they back, what can they offer and, who will turn up?
The renaissance started taking shape back in began back in 2007 when lifelong Muppet fan, actor and writer, Jason (Forgetting Sarah Marshall) Segel had an idea Disney liked. What if the Muppets got back together? A farewell performance from the original cast? Disney agreed Segel got writing - addressing the issue of relevance head on - and casted himself as the leading man, Gary.
His story was simple. Segel and a new muppet, Walter - inexplicably cast as a brother - start reconstructing the team; Kermit (touchingly voiced by Steve Whitmire) from a crumbling mansion, Animal (Eric Jacobson) from an anger management clinic and, most appropriately of all, Miss Piggy (Jacobsen again) from Paris, now the editor of Vogue. Soon everyone is back from Rowlf the dog still on the piano, Fozzie cracking (bad) jokes, the unforgettable Swedish chef doing and saying who knows what and Camilla and her Chickens with a wonderful rendition of Cee-Lo Green’s, “Forget You”.
The gags are still funny - “We had to sit through it,” complains Statler to Waldorf (the old men), “the least folks could do is to share our pain” - the music is great with a wonderful new ballad, Pictures in my Head by Brett McKenzie, from Kermit – and the message - that whoever you are or how different you may seem, there's always a place on the team – as clear as ever. Plus the guest stars are all there - Jack Black (albeit unwillingly), Whoopi Goldberg and Mickey Rooney – and the actors not bad - Academy Award winner Chris Cooper as the baddie, Tex Richman, and (three times) Academy nominee, Amy Adams as Mary, Segel's girlfriend.
Director James Bobin does a wonderful job with a tried and tested formula but when Selena Gomez asks Kermit "are you a ninja turtle”, she hits the nail on the head; how many will remember them and how many will show up?
Give it a try. 8.10 DM
Elton John was almost eaten by crocodiles, Sylvester Stallone torn apart by a lion and Christopher Reeve karate-chopped by a pig. Yet still the stars kept on coming; Gene Kelly, Steve Martin, Racquel Welch and Bob Hope. But The Muppets Christmas Carol movie was a lifetime ago (1992). So, why are they back, what can they offer and, who will turn up?
The renaissance started taking shape back in began back in 2007 when lifelong Muppet fan, actor and writer, Jason (Forgetting Sarah Marshall) Segel had an idea Disney liked. What if the Muppets got back together? A farewell performance from the original cast? Disney agreed Segel got writing - addressing the issue of relevance head on - and casted himself as the leading man, Gary.
His story was simple. Segel and a new muppet, Walter - inexplicably cast as a brother - start reconstructing the team; Kermit (touchingly voiced by Steve Whitmire) from a crumbling mansion, Animal (Eric Jacobson) from an anger management clinic and, most appropriately of all, Miss Piggy (Jacobsen again) from Paris, now the editor of Vogue. Soon everyone is back from Rowlf the dog still on the piano, Fozzie cracking (bad) jokes, the unforgettable Swedish chef doing and saying who knows what and Camilla and her Chickens with a wonderful rendition of Cee-Lo Green’s, “Forget You”.
The gags are still funny - “We had to sit through it,” complains Statler to Waldorf (the old men), “the least folks could do is to share our pain” - the music is great with a wonderful new ballad, Pictures in my Head by Brett McKenzie, from Kermit – and the message - that whoever you are or how different you may seem, there's always a place on the team – as clear as ever. Plus the guest stars are all there - Jack Black (albeit unwillingly), Whoopi Goldberg and Mickey Rooney – and the actors not bad - Academy Award winner Chris Cooper as the baddie, Tex Richman, and (three times) Academy nominee, Amy Adams as Mary, Segel's girlfriend.
Director James Bobin does a wonderful job with a tried and tested formula but when Selena Gomez asks Kermit "are you a ninja turtle”, she hits the nail on the head; how many will remember them and how many will show up?
Give it a try. 8.10 DM
A Concert for Andy
Blackheath Halls, February 4 2012-02-08
Battling their way the first snows of winter, they came in their hundreds to honour a friend. But they came not in sadness; there was laughter and warmth, a wealth of good feeling for this man, truly loved. By the time it got started, the Halls were quite packed leaving standing room only for a few at the back.
In 2004 Andy Ropek and Phil Dearing co-founded a forum called The Icarus Club. They would meet every month in the Halls in Blackheath, an informal gathering to nurture new bands. In a friendly, relaxing and informal environment, original singer-songwriters could simply play as they pleased. A good number of acts have gone on to great things and many of the same have been keen to return.
Following Andy's sad passing at the end of last year, his wife Kim and friend Phil chose to honour Andy’s memory in the best way they could; a concert for charity* for all his good friends. Phil opened the evening, a reluctant compere; "Andy should be here, I’m just the technical guy".
The first of the acts - Jespa (James Pepper and Anthony Shepherd) - set the tone for the night, two guitars, two great voices and some stunning results. Formed in 2009, they play all over the world, flying in from China barely three hours before. Despite jet lag and "a serious lack of alcohol" they played with real emotion and fire, "Isabelle" and "Loves Lost Tourists", the pick of the bunch. Groups came - The Carl Picton Cartel, a six piece blues band - and they went - The Misshaped Pearls (with whom Andy had played), sometimes in sequence, Ben Butler, Beaj Johnson, Teddy Bazz and Jack O'Brien, and sometimes alone, Jason James Melville and Dapper Dan.
But throughout it all, Andy remained his life there in pictures on a giant rolling screen.
The acts were as one in why they had come; “to pay my respects – he gave me my first break”, whispered one of the musicians near the end. Like the teacher at school whom you never forget, Andy will stay with them for the rest of their days. Andy of the trilby thanks for the ride.
An appropriate send-off for a clearly popular man.
Dick Morgan
February 2012
Blackheath Halls, February 4 2012-02-08
Battling their way the first snows of winter, they came in their hundreds to honour a friend. But they came not in sadness; there was laughter and warmth, a wealth of good feeling for this man, truly loved. By the time it got started, the Halls were quite packed leaving standing room only for a few at the back.
In 2004 Andy Ropek and Phil Dearing co-founded a forum called The Icarus Club. They would meet every month in the Halls in Blackheath, an informal gathering to nurture new bands. In a friendly, relaxing and informal environment, original singer-songwriters could simply play as they pleased. A good number of acts have gone on to great things and many of the same have been keen to return.
Following Andy's sad passing at the end of last year, his wife Kim and friend Phil chose to honour Andy’s memory in the best way they could; a concert for charity* for all his good friends. Phil opened the evening, a reluctant compere; "Andy should be here, I’m just the technical guy".
The first of the acts - Jespa (James Pepper and Anthony Shepherd) - set the tone for the night, two guitars, two great voices and some stunning results. Formed in 2009, they play all over the world, flying in from China barely three hours before. Despite jet lag and "a serious lack of alcohol" they played with real emotion and fire, "Isabelle" and "Loves Lost Tourists", the pick of the bunch. Groups came - The Carl Picton Cartel, a six piece blues band - and they went - The Misshaped Pearls (with whom Andy had played), sometimes in sequence, Ben Butler, Beaj Johnson, Teddy Bazz and Jack O'Brien, and sometimes alone, Jason James Melville and Dapper Dan.
But throughout it all, Andy remained his life there in pictures on a giant rolling screen.
The acts were as one in why they had come; “to pay my respects – he gave me my first break”, whispered one of the musicians near the end. Like the teacher at school whom you never forget, Andy will stay with them for the rest of their days. Andy of the trilby thanks for the ride.
An appropriate send-off for a clearly popular man.
Dick Morgan
February 2012
The Descendants (15) 115 minutes 2012
He was good as Doug Ross in ER (1994-99), dreadful in Batman and Robin (1997) but much better in Oceans 11 (2004). Notwithstanding his Oscar for Syriana (best supporting actor), The Descendants is where George Clooney comes of age. But this is by no means the Clooney we are used to. Gone are the loafers and suits and absent the model on his arm; this is a Clooney stripped down to the bone, middle-aged, overweight and very grey.
The story itself is really quite stark; a wife in a coma, two rebellious kids and a family that is falling apart. Clooney attempts to pick up the pieces, an absentee father coming back to the fold. His performance is quite stunning; relaxed and at ease, his acting effortlessly natural. Clooney is ill- kempt, badly dressed and unshaven; how ironic if this is the movie that defines him.
But no movie can work with the lead unsupported and there is excellent support from the girls. Amara Miller plays Scottie, a rebel at ten, Shailene Woodley is Alex, reforming her life. Woodley impresses, mature beyond her years, now feisty now touching the scene underwater (beautifully filmed by Don King) pure heartache on film. Her boyfriend Sid (Nick Krause) has a promising cameo, and the walrus, Beau Bridges, flashes brightly once more.
Much has been written about potential ulterior meanings, the breakdown of families, America’s decline. Clooney himself hits the nail on the head; “my friends think that because I live in Hawaii, I live in paradise but” ….. “we screw up our families just like everyone else”. Director Alexander “About Schmidt” Payne oversees some bitter-sweet reflections (his own script), the Hawaiian soundtrack strangely appropriate.
Clooney is good but will never be great, I once wrote about one of his films. In this low-key, low-budget but excellent film, Clooney puts the critic in his place. 9/10.
Dick Morgan
February 2012
He was good as Doug Ross in ER (1994-99), dreadful in Batman and Robin (1997) but much better in Oceans 11 (2004). Notwithstanding his Oscar for Syriana (best supporting actor), The Descendants is where George Clooney comes of age. But this is by no means the Clooney we are used to. Gone are the loafers and suits and absent the model on his arm; this is a Clooney stripped down to the bone, middle-aged, overweight and very grey.
The story itself is really quite stark; a wife in a coma, two rebellious kids and a family that is falling apart. Clooney attempts to pick up the pieces, an absentee father coming back to the fold. His performance is quite stunning; relaxed and at ease, his acting effortlessly natural. Clooney is ill- kempt, badly dressed and unshaven; how ironic if this is the movie that defines him.
But no movie can work with the lead unsupported and there is excellent support from the girls. Amara Miller plays Scottie, a rebel at ten, Shailene Woodley is Alex, reforming her life. Woodley impresses, mature beyond her years, now feisty now touching the scene underwater (beautifully filmed by Don King) pure heartache on film. Her boyfriend Sid (Nick Krause) has a promising cameo, and the walrus, Beau Bridges, flashes brightly once more.
Much has been written about potential ulterior meanings, the breakdown of families, America’s decline. Clooney himself hits the nail on the head; “my friends think that because I live in Hawaii, I live in paradise but” ….. “we screw up our families just like everyone else”. Director Alexander “About Schmidt” Payne oversees some bitter-sweet reflections (his own script), the Hawaiian soundtrack strangely appropriate.
Clooney is good but will never be great, I once wrote about one of his films. In this low-key, low-budget but excellent film, Clooney puts the critic in his place. 9/10.
Dick Morgan
February 2012
Monday, 16 January 2012
The Iron Lady 12A 2012 (105 minutes)
It’s an impressive CV. Chemist, barrister and then MP for Finchley (1959). First female Prime Minister (1979 to 1990) and re-elected three times. Life Peer for Kesteven in the Lincolnshire downs. Conviction politician of unwavering nerve.
Streep or Thatcher?
While a movie about The Iron Lady was never in doubt, its subject material – a portrayal of dementia and the decomposition of the mind - seems a curious choice. How do we know how Baroness Thatcher (Meryl Streep) spends her days? Her public appearances are increasingly rare but going slowly mad in the four walls of her flat, lost in the reverence of a husband long dead, lamenting a wayward son, himself too troubled to care? Unlikely and tasteless given that the Lady still lives.
On the (frustratingly) brief occasions that we revisit her past, events are too simple, analysis ignored. When Thatcher is asked to take a decision on the (warship) Belgrano, she replies "sink it" without pausing as if it was nothing of note. This, of a Prime Minister, who personally hand-wrote letters of condolences to the families of those who died.
Her political decisions are barely explored - the miners’ strike simplified to clashes with police, discussions with Europe simply touched on in brief and her (crucial) relationship with Reagan reduced to a dance. Even former colleagues have no meat on the bone, Foot, Heseltine and Howe simple caricatures, Lamont, Whitelaw and Tebbit barely worthy of note. With increasing frustration we are taken back to her flat where this most brilliant of minds is slowly coming apart. And yet suddenly she is back with the clarity of old; “It’s not how you feel... it’s what you do”, she tells a doting fan.
Redemption arrives in the form of the acting, some colossal performances in spite of the (Abi Morgan) script. Jim Broadbent’s Dennis is the rock of her life, supportive and patient and devoted to her success; Olivia Colman’s Carol, the prodigal daughter come home. But shine as they might, they simply cannot compare for Streep is magnificent in everything that she does; from the hair, to the smile, the clothes to the gait. She simply “is” Maggie in the role of her life.
With an astonishing 16 Oscar nominations [but strangely only two wins - Kramer v Kramer (1975) and Sophie’s Choice (1982)] - to her name in over three decades of film - Meryl Streep, like fine wine, seems to get better with time. Here’s to her maturation whenever that might be!
Streep's finest hour. Unmissable, despite the plot. 9/10.
DM
January 2012
Thatcher or Streep?
It’s an impressive CV. Chemist, barrister and then MP for Finchley (1959). First female Prime Minister (1979 to 1990) and re-elected three times. Life Peer for Kesteven in the Lincolnshire downs. Conviction politician of unwavering nerve.
Streep or Thatcher?
While a movie about The Iron Lady was never in doubt, its subject material – a portrayal of dementia and the decomposition of the mind - seems a curious choice. How do we know how Baroness Thatcher (Meryl Streep) spends her days? Her public appearances are increasingly rare but going slowly mad in the four walls of her flat, lost in the reverence of a husband long dead, lamenting a wayward son, himself too troubled to care? Unlikely and tasteless given that the Lady still lives.
On the (frustratingly) brief occasions that we revisit her past, events are too simple, analysis ignored. When Thatcher is asked to take a decision on the (warship) Belgrano, she replies "sink it" without pausing as if it was nothing of note. This, of a Prime Minister, who personally hand-wrote letters of condolences to the families of those who died.
Her political decisions are barely explored - the miners’ strike simplified to clashes with police, discussions with Europe simply touched on in brief and her (crucial) relationship with Reagan reduced to a dance. Even former colleagues have no meat on the bone, Foot, Heseltine and Howe simple caricatures, Lamont, Whitelaw and Tebbit barely worthy of note. With increasing frustration we are taken back to her flat where this most brilliant of minds is slowly coming apart. And yet suddenly she is back with the clarity of old; “It’s not how you feel... it’s what you do”, she tells a doting fan.
Redemption arrives in the form of the acting, some colossal performances in spite of the (Abi Morgan) script. Jim Broadbent’s Dennis is the rock of her life, supportive and patient and devoted to her success; Olivia Colman’s Carol, the prodigal daughter come home. But shine as they might, they simply cannot compare for Streep is magnificent in everything that she does; from the hair, to the smile, the clothes to the gait. She simply “is” Maggie in the role of her life.
With an astonishing 16 Oscar nominations [but strangely only two wins - Kramer v Kramer (1975) and Sophie’s Choice (1982)] - to her name in over three decades of film - Meryl Streep, like fine wine, seems to get better with time. Here’s to her maturation whenever that might be!
Streep's finest hour. Unmissable, despite the plot. 9/10.
DM
January 2012
Thatcher or Streep?
Friday, 13 January 2012
The Blues Band
Blackheath Halls December 18 2011
Their first album cratered selling but a handful of copies, the band even reduced into producing themselves. 32 years on and some 20 albums later, the Blues Band - Paul Jones (vocals / harmonica), Tom McGuinness (lead guitarist), Gary Fletcher (bass), Dave Kelly (slide guitarist) and drummer, Rob Townsend - are surely now regarded as one of Britain’s best-loved bands.
Their music – an eclectically odd combination of country, jazz and blues – has to be seen in a world of its own; “The music industry doesn’t bother us and we don’t bother them”, their oft-quoted theme. But if the genre is in question then their ability is not, all capable musicians with distinguished careers.
Jones is best known, actor, broadcaster and lead vocalist with 60s group Manfred Mann. He still seeks the limelight and stands centre stage but his timing is excellent and his vocals still strong. His rendition of his own song, “Suddenly I Like It”, was excellent, lyrical and tender, notwithstanding failed efforts to get the audience to join in. His manipulation of the harmonica – no tinny toy in his hands – was quite spectacular from the purity of his tone to the breadth of his range. But Blues Band the group is much more than just Jones, each of the band members (unusually) taking turns at the mic; McGuinness’s (also Manfred Mann) gentle tones, Kelly’s forceful energy and Fletcher’s rhythmic pitch. But if their vocals are strong their playing is better, the key reason they have lasted so long. Townsend’s rhythm at the back of the stage, Kelly’s facility on the bottleneck guitar, Fletcher’s flexibility with finger and thumb.
After a banal introduction and some inane repartee (somebody should really tell them), things finally got going with a crowd-pleasing mixture of classic old favourites – What you Wanted and Going Home – and more recent material - Living with the Blues and You are True - from their new album, A Few Short Lines. But at the end of each song, repartee – largely consisting of interminable requests to purchase the new album – reappeared, destroying what momentum the group had managed to build, an inexcusable mistake for an experienced group.
However, most of their loyal audience simply enjoyed what they heard, cheering and shouting before the end of each song, Blind Alfred Reed’s “How Can a Poor Man Stand Such Times and Live”, the highlight of the night.
An evening for fans. 6/10. Oh, and a Happy New Year!
Dick Morgan
December 2011
Blackheath Halls December 18 2011
Their first album cratered selling but a handful of copies, the band even reduced into producing themselves. 32 years on and some 20 albums later, the Blues Band - Paul Jones (vocals / harmonica), Tom McGuinness (lead guitarist), Gary Fletcher (bass), Dave Kelly (slide guitarist) and drummer, Rob Townsend - are surely now regarded as one of Britain’s best-loved bands.
Their music – an eclectically odd combination of country, jazz and blues – has to be seen in a world of its own; “The music industry doesn’t bother us and we don’t bother them”, their oft-quoted theme. But if the genre is in question then their ability is not, all capable musicians with distinguished careers.
Jones is best known, actor, broadcaster and lead vocalist with 60s group Manfred Mann. He still seeks the limelight and stands centre stage but his timing is excellent and his vocals still strong. His rendition of his own song, “Suddenly I Like It”, was excellent, lyrical and tender, notwithstanding failed efforts to get the audience to join in. His manipulation of the harmonica – no tinny toy in his hands – was quite spectacular from the purity of his tone to the breadth of his range. But Blues Band the group is much more than just Jones, each of the band members (unusually) taking turns at the mic; McGuinness’s (also Manfred Mann) gentle tones, Kelly’s forceful energy and Fletcher’s rhythmic pitch. But if their vocals are strong their playing is better, the key reason they have lasted so long. Townsend’s rhythm at the back of the stage, Kelly’s facility on the bottleneck guitar, Fletcher’s flexibility with finger and thumb.
After a banal introduction and some inane repartee (somebody should really tell them), things finally got going with a crowd-pleasing mixture of classic old favourites – What you Wanted and Going Home – and more recent material - Living with the Blues and You are True - from their new album, A Few Short Lines. But at the end of each song, repartee – largely consisting of interminable requests to purchase the new album – reappeared, destroying what momentum the group had managed to build, an inexcusable mistake for an experienced group.
However, most of their loyal audience simply enjoyed what they heard, cheering and shouting before the end of each song, Blind Alfred Reed’s “How Can a Poor Man Stand Such Times and Live”, the highlight of the night.
An evening for fans. 6/10. Oh, and a Happy New Year!
Dick Morgan
December 2011
2011 Film Review of the Year
Year of the Sequel
Johnny English 2, Alvin and the Chipmunks 3, Mission Impossible 4, X-Men 5, Rise of the Apes 7 and Harry Potter 8. 2011 was, without doubt, the year of the sequel with a record-breaking 27 of the little devils; 1 in every 5 movies made in a year, non original material. With Shakespeare in Love (2), Batman (3) and Die Hard (5) in production, 2012 looks set for the same. What awaits us next? Apollo 13 (2)?
Despite instincts to the contrary, there is method in this madness. Why do they make them? Because we keep on going. In fact, we flock in our millions, Toy Story 3, Iron Man 2 and Shrek 4, the highest grossing films of 2010. “There are no signs….to Hollywood that audiences have had too much”, notes Dr Jonathan Gray, a professor of cultural studies at the University of Wisconsin, “so why should they stop”? They shouldn’t and they won’t as the recently released Hollywood version of the Swedish, Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, would attest.
And yet remakes and sequels are not always bad, Kenneth Branagh’s 1989 adaptation of Henry V arguably stronger than Olivier’s 1944 so-called definitive, original. Few would question the first, Star Wars trilogy, the Toy Story series, the three Lord of the Rings or the unforgettable 20 hours of the wizard, Harry Potter, the last of the (eight) films, a true tour de force. If certain originals are too good to touch – Citizen Kane, Casablanca and Singing in the Rain come to mind – then others - True Grit and Planet of the Apes in 2011 - surely ache, for a face- lift, at least.
Michael Holding testing John Edrich in Stevan Riley’s, Fire in Babylon
Nicole Kidman an Aron Eckhart in John Cameron Mitchell’s, Rabbit Hole
And so to my choices for 2011.
Pride of place to Colin Firth as an impeccable king. Second to Michelle Williams and Marilyn Monroe. Third, JK Rowling for her unforgettable epic, the culmination of which is as good as it gets. Fourth goes to Rabbit Hole (Nicole Kidman and Aaron Eckhart), a wonderfully portrayed tragedy about the loss of a child. Fifth the game of cricket and racism in the 70s. Sixth is a literally breathtaking self-amputation slightly ahead of a Hollywood remake, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. Eighth comes the French with some reflection on life, 9th Japanese warriors and last, the rendition of David Nicholls’ One Day.
2011 has been fun and here’s to 2012. See you at the movies!
1. The King’s Speech
2. My Week with Marilyn
3. Harry Potter (8)
4. Rabbit Hole
5. Fire in Babylon
6. 127 Hours
7. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo
8. Little White Lies
9. 13 Assassins
10. One Day
Year of the Sequel
Johnny English 2, Alvin and the Chipmunks 3, Mission Impossible 4, X-Men 5, Rise of the Apes 7 and Harry Potter 8. 2011 was, without doubt, the year of the sequel with a record-breaking 27 of the little devils; 1 in every 5 movies made in a year, non original material. With Shakespeare in Love (2), Batman (3) and Die Hard (5) in production, 2012 looks set for the same. What awaits us next? Apollo 13 (2)?
Despite instincts to the contrary, there is method in this madness. Why do they make them? Because we keep on going. In fact, we flock in our millions, Toy Story 3, Iron Man 2 and Shrek 4, the highest grossing films of 2010. “There are no signs….to Hollywood that audiences have had too much”, notes Dr Jonathan Gray, a professor of cultural studies at the University of Wisconsin, “so why should they stop”? They shouldn’t and they won’t as the recently released Hollywood version of the Swedish, Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, would attest.
And yet remakes and sequels are not always bad, Kenneth Branagh’s 1989 adaptation of Henry V arguably stronger than Olivier’s 1944 so-called definitive, original. Few would question the first, Star Wars trilogy, the Toy Story series, the three Lord of the Rings or the unforgettable 20 hours of the wizard, Harry Potter, the last of the (eight) films, a true tour de force. If certain originals are too good to touch – Citizen Kane, Casablanca and Singing in the Rain come to mind – then others - True Grit and Planet of the Apes in 2011 - surely ache, for a face- lift, at least.
Michael Holding testing John Edrich in Stevan Riley’s, Fire in Babylon
Nicole Kidman an Aron Eckhart in John Cameron Mitchell’s, Rabbit Hole
And so to my choices for 2011.
Pride of place to Colin Firth as an impeccable king. Second to Michelle Williams and Marilyn Monroe. Third, JK Rowling for her unforgettable epic, the culmination of which is as good as it gets. Fourth goes to Rabbit Hole (Nicole Kidman and Aaron Eckhart), a wonderfully portrayed tragedy about the loss of a child. Fifth the game of cricket and racism in the 70s. Sixth is a literally breathtaking self-amputation slightly ahead of a Hollywood remake, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. Eighth comes the French with some reflection on life, 9th Japanese warriors and last, the rendition of David Nicholls’ One Day.
2011 has been fun and here’s to 2012. See you at the movies!
1. The King’s Speech
2. My Week with Marilyn
3. Harry Potter (8)
4. Rabbit Hole
5. Fire in Babylon
6. 127 Hours
7. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo
8. Little White Lies
9. 13 Assassins
10. One Day
Sunday, 1 January 2012
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (18) 152 minutes 2011
The Stieg Larsson legacy was too good to be true; 65 million copies of the novels, a scandal from his intestate partner and three subtitled films. Hollywood simply could not resist. Secretly I hoped that they would fail. How could they improve an original which, sub titles apart, was close to perfect? I immediately started looking for flaws.
They were not in the storyline, a magnificent, multi-layered canvas, imperiously unfurled. A dysfunctional family and a young missing child, a bisexual, multi-pierced and tattooed anti-heroine (Rooney Mara) and a serial killer who had never been found. The foundations were excellent, the structure outstanding and the denouement quite stunning with nothing left to chance. Two and a half hours flew by in an instant.
They were neither in the direction, David (Fight Club and The Social Network) Fincher’s reproduction, slick and fast-paced notwithstanding an out-of-place introduction and a deafening score by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross. They certainly weren’t in the heroine herself, Rooney’s performance surprisingly strong.
Courageously cast – until now only known for a short cameo in The Social Network - she does not disappoint. Less savage and raw than Noomi Rapace’s definitive original - her piercings and haircut just a little too neat, her feelings for Mikael (Daniel Craig) just a little too sweet - she has violence in her eyes and retribution in her heart. The problem surprisingly, lies in 007, Craig’s journalist, Mikael Blomqvist, too flippant and light, his relationship with Lisbeth too superficial and lacking depth.
The rest of the characters are thoughtfully cast - from Christopher Plummer’s – he gets better with age - head of the household to Stellan Skarsgård’s family CEO. Robin Wright however, is sadly underused, her dialogue thin and her relationship with Mikael, barely explored. If, as Fincher has hinted - two more films are to follow – Wright must surely be developed as her role running Millennium is central to the plot.
Despite minor misgivings, the movie is good, screenwriter Steven Zaillian capturing the essence of the book. Craig’s invitation to Mara to “catch men who kill women” – her reaction is stunning – without doubt an allusion to the book’s original, no-nonsense title; “The man who hated women”. Larsson’s premature death is a loss to us all.
A surprisingly good reproduction of an irreplaceable original. 8/10
DM
December 2011
The Stieg Larsson legacy was too good to be true; 65 million copies of the novels, a scandal from his intestate partner and three subtitled films. Hollywood simply could not resist. Secretly I hoped that they would fail. How could they improve an original which, sub titles apart, was close to perfect? I immediately started looking for flaws.
They were not in the storyline, a magnificent, multi-layered canvas, imperiously unfurled. A dysfunctional family and a young missing child, a bisexual, multi-pierced and tattooed anti-heroine (Rooney Mara) and a serial killer who had never been found. The foundations were excellent, the structure outstanding and the denouement quite stunning with nothing left to chance. Two and a half hours flew by in an instant.
They were neither in the direction, David (Fight Club and The Social Network) Fincher’s reproduction, slick and fast-paced notwithstanding an out-of-place introduction and a deafening score by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross. They certainly weren’t in the heroine herself, Rooney’s performance surprisingly strong.
Courageously cast – until now only known for a short cameo in The Social Network - she does not disappoint. Less savage and raw than Noomi Rapace’s definitive original - her piercings and haircut just a little too neat, her feelings for Mikael (Daniel Craig) just a little too sweet - she has violence in her eyes and retribution in her heart. The problem surprisingly, lies in 007, Craig’s journalist, Mikael Blomqvist, too flippant and light, his relationship with Lisbeth too superficial and lacking depth.
The rest of the characters are thoughtfully cast - from Christopher Plummer’s – he gets better with age - head of the household to Stellan Skarsgård’s family CEO. Robin Wright however, is sadly underused, her dialogue thin and her relationship with Mikael, barely explored. If, as Fincher has hinted - two more films are to follow – Wright must surely be developed as her role running Millennium is central to the plot.
Despite minor misgivings, the movie is good, screenwriter Steven Zaillian capturing the essence of the book. Craig’s invitation to Mara to “catch men who kill women” – her reaction is stunning – without doubt an allusion to the book’s original, no-nonsense title; “The man who hated women”. Larsson’s premature death is a loss to us all.
A surprisingly good reproduction of an irreplaceable original. 8/10
DM
December 2011
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