Regret. I’ve found that once you pass a certain age, regret becomes a potent and ever-present companion. I’m under no illusions; I am very much aware that I am in an extremely privileged position. It’s the idea of missed opportunities and coming to terms with the path your life has actually gone down. I wouldn’t like to run the risk of exploring the alternatives lest I risk losing what I have, but the concept is much more powerful now that more than half of my useful years are behind me.
As a storytelling conceit it tends to affect me so much stronger than it used to. It’s why The Muppet Christmas Carol, and to be fair, pretty much any version of the story (although I’m particularly fond of Michael Caine’s take, as well as Patrick Stewart’s, usually repeated on Channel 4 each year), is more emotionally affecting than Scrooged (not that I don’t dig Bill Murray’s version). The biggest emotional gut punch for Scrooge is when the Ghost of Christmas Past forces him to come face-to-face with the moment he sacrificed a future with the love of his life for something as mediocre as wealth. The ache to turn back the years and make the other choice is overwhelmingly heart-breaking. In the traditional telling of the tale, Scrooge must forever live with that choice – Murray gets a chance to rectify it, which loses a great deal of the power the story has.
It’s A Wonderful Life is another Christmas film that deals with the theme – all throughout, George Bailey has to make the choice to put his own ambitions on hold for the sake of others, and before he knows it, the chance has gone. Luckily for George, he’s able to content himself with the alternative life he built for himself over the years, but it wouldn’t have taken much to leave him filled with bitter regret. It’s a repeated trope in storytelling, and it’s precisely because it is so powerful; Magnolia is a non-Christmassy film that examines the nature of regret and how it affects us through various characters and it’s another one that has a very strong impact on me.
I guess the point (such as it is) is I don’t really think it’s possible to avoid regrets, and those that claim to regret nothing are perhaps not being completely honest with themselves.
Thursday, December 28, 2017
Monday, November 27, 2017
In case for some reason it isn’t clear.
It is not normal to be a Nazi. There has been a recent New York Times article about one of the newly-bold Nazi pieces of shit over in America in the wake of Trump. It talks about how this pond scum is just like everyone else with the unfortunate exception of his extreme right-wing viewpoint. It cannot be said clearly enough: Fuck. That. Shit.
If you consider yourself an average everyday person but somehow you’re convinced that your skin colour (not your genetic heritage – that’s different – everybody’s got a bit of everybody else in their genes, Nazi or not (the video that links to, by the way, is just beautiful and should be watched by absolutely everybody)), or the religion you prefer, or the fact that you have a dick, makes you automatically better than others because they’re different, then take a long, hard look at yourself, and think about what it was that made you white, Christian, or male. Nothing special. Genes. The part of the world where you happened to be born. If you still can’t see it, then please feel free to lie down and die.
Same goes for you if you think the fact that you’re a multi-millionaire means you should pay less tax. Lewis Hamilton, Bono and the Queen can promote Children in Need or tell us what we should do to end poverty or make the world a better place all they want; the truth is, if they and every other fucknut like them didn’t invest the country’s money offshore so they could sit on a fortune of £250 million instead of a mere £198 million, there’d be much less need for Children in Need. Selfish, greedy fucks.
There are so many other examples (denying obvious truths like the facts that leaving the EU is turning into exactly the custerfuck those of us wanting to stay told you it would, that being in a position of power or celebrity doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want with the bodies of other people, that climate change is now likely to prevent us seeing the next century in as a civilised species because we couldn’t be arsed to do anything about it when we had the chance, running a newspaper that channels utter bullshit, becoming the biggest enabler of this crap out there, and, the newest – deciding that animals don’t feel pain to prevent you having to deal with pesky welfare regulations when you have your ‘sovereignty’ back (which you never actually lost in the first place)), that to go into depth would take for ever and make me sick in my soul. That’s if a soul was anything more than a human invention.
But most of all, the Nazis.
If you consider yourself an average everyday person but somehow you’re convinced that your skin colour (not your genetic heritage – that’s different – everybody’s got a bit of everybody else in their genes, Nazi or not (the video that links to, by the way, is just beautiful and should be watched by absolutely everybody)), or the religion you prefer, or the fact that you have a dick, makes you automatically better than others because they’re different, then take a long, hard look at yourself, and think about what it was that made you white, Christian, or male. Nothing special. Genes. The part of the world where you happened to be born. If you still can’t see it, then please feel free to lie down and die.
Same goes for you if you think the fact that you’re a multi-millionaire means you should pay less tax. Lewis Hamilton, Bono and the Queen can promote Children in Need or tell us what we should do to end poverty or make the world a better place all they want; the truth is, if they and every other fucknut like them didn’t invest the country’s money offshore so they could sit on a fortune of £250 million instead of a mere £198 million, there’d be much less need for Children in Need. Selfish, greedy fucks.
There are so many other examples (denying obvious truths like the facts that leaving the EU is turning into exactly the custerfuck those of us wanting to stay told you it would, that being in a position of power or celebrity doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want with the bodies of other people, that climate change is now likely to prevent us seeing the next century in as a civilised species because we couldn’t be arsed to do anything about it when we had the chance, running a newspaper that channels utter bullshit, becoming the biggest enabler of this crap out there, and, the newest – deciding that animals don’t feel pain to prevent you having to deal with pesky welfare regulations when you have your ‘sovereignty’ back (which you never actually lost in the first place)), that to go into depth would take for ever and make me sick in my soul. That’s if a soul was anything more than a human invention.
But most of all, the Nazis.
Tuesday, October 24, 2017
Classic or modern?
Why choose at all? Seeing Blade Runner 2049 and listening to what people thought about it got me thinking recently. Specifically, thinking about something Mark Kermode said while talking about it. Like me, he is a long-time fan of the original, and has probably forgotten more about it than I’ll ever know. He’s got a reputation (with me at least) for being a bit of a punk Barry Norman – basically, most films appear to suck beyond redemption in his opinion.
Like me, however, he has been gushing in his praise of Denis Villeneuve’s sequel – not only does it not ruin Ridley Scott’s original, but it expands, enhances and, occasionally, surpasses it. It’s jaw-on-the-floor good. One thing among many that I loved about it was the slow-burning pace at which the story unfolds, and something that Kermode mentioned resonated with me. He mentioned an experiment film students do early on in their studies, which involves them watching an older film and clapping every time there’s a cut. Then carrying out the same exercise with a modern picture and noting just how much quicker the claps come. Blade Runner 2049 is more like one of the older films; slow, detailed, and long takes, never rushing to get where it needs to go.
It isn’t necessarily that one style is always better – Steven Soderbergh, Paul Thomas Anderson and Paul Greengrass are examples of how making quick cuts can often make a strong impact – but the modern style too often becomes a dizzying Michael Bay frame fuckathon. There is no shortage of modern visual effects techniques used in making Blade Runner 2049, and they are always used to eye-meltingly brilliant effect, but it remembers that production and visuals aren’t the whole thing, and the deliberate pace and time taken to explore themes of belonging, love and what exactly it means to be human (themes raised by the original in addition to its incredible and massively influential production design) make this just about a perfect combination of modern technology in service to a more old-fashioned narrative pace.
One can only hope others learn from it…
Like me, however, he has been gushing in his praise of Denis Villeneuve’s sequel – not only does it not ruin Ridley Scott’s original, but it expands, enhances and, occasionally, surpasses it. It’s jaw-on-the-floor good. One thing among many that I loved about it was the slow-burning pace at which the story unfolds, and something that Kermode mentioned resonated with me. He mentioned an experiment film students do early on in their studies, which involves them watching an older film and clapping every time there’s a cut. Then carrying out the same exercise with a modern picture and noting just how much quicker the claps come. Blade Runner 2049 is more like one of the older films; slow, detailed, and long takes, never rushing to get where it needs to go.
It isn’t necessarily that one style is always better – Steven Soderbergh, Paul Thomas Anderson and Paul Greengrass are examples of how making quick cuts can often make a strong impact – but the modern style too often becomes a dizzying Michael Bay frame fuckathon. There is no shortage of modern visual effects techniques used in making Blade Runner 2049, and they are always used to eye-meltingly brilliant effect, but it remembers that production and visuals aren’t the whole thing, and the deliberate pace and time taken to explore themes of belonging, love and what exactly it means to be human (themes raised by the original in addition to its incredible and massively influential production design) make this just about a perfect combination of modern technology in service to a more old-fashioned narrative pace.
One can only hope others learn from it…
Sunday, September 24, 2017
Operation Don’t Die: Update.
The bike has been fixed. The cycling to work has restarted. It is harder than I remember it being. The route is partially blocked due to roadworks so I could do with find an alternative way. My arse bone is ridiculously painful. I still haven’t fully recovered all the feeling in my fingertips from when I cycled in the winter last year after forgetting my gloves. I almost forgot my gloves the first day and had to turn back for them.
But, the bottom line is, I need to do more exercise. So, ever graceful in my suffering, I’ll persevere. Until I get another flat.
But, the bottom line is, I need to do more exercise. So, ever graceful in my suffering, I’ll persevere. Until I get another flat.
Monday, August 28, 2017
Meeting Neville.
I often find these little slices of life when getting the bus to and from work, and they do sometimes have the effect of recalibrating me and reminding me of the reality of day to day life for most of us and how it’s entirely at odds with how the media, in all its forms, likes to portray things. While I was waiting for the bus one morning, a guy walks towards my stop and starts waiting with me. I have my headphones on until I realise he’s attempting to talk to me.
It’s clear English isn’t his first language, and there is a little difficulty making ourselves understood, but we manage – not because I can speak his language, but because he can speak mine. It turns out he’s working nights at a factory somewhere. He’s knackered, but he’s working nights because the pay is good - £10 an hour. I haven’t the heart to tell him that £10 an hour isn’t really that much, because he seems impressed with it.
He’s come to our country for work – he needs to work, to earn, and he’s been unable to at home. He likes it here, except it’s too cold – this is during the summer. He’s lined up some work in Canada next, and I tell him it’s probably going to be quite a lot colder there. He’s disappointed at this news, not entirely convinced, but is still going to go.
I want to tell him how sorry I am that my country is turning into a place that is openly hostile towards him and others like him, how ashamed I am of the vicious bile our national press spit at people like him every day with no cause or provocation. I can’t fathom how anybody could possibly mistake him for an enemy. He’s not fucking us over to make billions all for himself, he’s not driving back decades of progress in service to a broken ideology hankering to return to a past that never really existed.
He strongly reminds me of someone, and eventually it hits me – he’s just Neville from Auf Wiedersehen, Pet. Some poor guy who’s had to travel to an unfamiliar country just to find work. I hope he’s not alone, that, like Neville, he’s got some friends to make the loneliness of being far from home bearable. I recognise that Auf Wiedersehen, Pet is a work of fiction, but it’s something the British working class have had to do in the past when the economy’s in the toilet. Lucky for them it was a simple matter due to us being a member of the EU, eh?
It’s clear English isn’t his first language, and there is a little difficulty making ourselves understood, but we manage – not because I can speak his language, but because he can speak mine. It turns out he’s working nights at a factory somewhere. He’s knackered, but he’s working nights because the pay is good - £10 an hour. I haven’t the heart to tell him that £10 an hour isn’t really that much, because he seems impressed with it.
He’s come to our country for work – he needs to work, to earn, and he’s been unable to at home. He likes it here, except it’s too cold – this is during the summer. He’s lined up some work in Canada next, and I tell him it’s probably going to be quite a lot colder there. He’s disappointed at this news, not entirely convinced, but is still going to go.
I want to tell him how sorry I am that my country is turning into a place that is openly hostile towards him and others like him, how ashamed I am of the vicious bile our national press spit at people like him every day with no cause or provocation. I can’t fathom how anybody could possibly mistake him for an enemy. He’s not fucking us over to make billions all for himself, he’s not driving back decades of progress in service to a broken ideology hankering to return to a past that never really existed.
He strongly reminds me of someone, and eventually it hits me – he’s just Neville from Auf Wiedersehen, Pet. Some poor guy who’s had to travel to an unfamiliar country just to find work. I hope he’s not alone, that, like Neville, he’s got some friends to make the loneliness of being far from home bearable. I recognise that Auf Wiedersehen, Pet is a work of fiction, but it’s something the British working class have had to do in the past when the economy’s in the toilet. Lucky for them it was a simple matter due to us being a member of the EU, eh?
Monday, July 17, 2017
Dammit, Marvel.
I’m hearing reports from Comic Con about the first bits of footage from the next Avengers movie, Infinity War. Basically, everyone’s wetting themselves and it looks set to be the greatest thing ever. Pretty much everyone I know who’s seen Spider-man: Homecoming loves it. Superheroes generally don’t really do it for me. They’re ok – I dig the first couple of Superman movies, Chris Nolan’s Batman was alright, and I quite like some of the X-Men movies. Watchmen is a straight up genius graphic novel. But there are so many heroes, so many stories that I just get sick of them, and this massive surge of them in recent years is pretty much all Marvel’s fault. It all started with Iron Man. Didn’t really seem like my thing, so I didn’t bother watching it. Then along came a few others – Captain America, Iron Man 2, Thor. Still not really interested. Got roped into seeing Captain America and it was just as blandly uninteresting as I expected.
But, they just kept coming. And they started to (by all accounts – still not seen most of them) improve. But the problem was, Marvel was in the process of creating this connected mega-universe and threading all the narratives around each other. By the time Joss Whedon was announced as writer and director of Avengers Assemble I began to get interested. But it was all too late. There were too many to catch up with. And they kept on coming, and kept on improving. Avengers got raves pretty much everywhere. Was talked in to watching Guardians of the Galaxy, which was just brilliant fun (I figured that while still forming part of the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU), it sat far enough outside it that I could manage). The second Captain America opened to rave reviews indicating it was a thriller about corruption in the powerful along the lines of All the President’s Men. And the orgasmic reviews keep coming; Ant-Man, Dr Strange and Civil War all met with rave reviews. Guardians of the Galaxy 2 was aces.
So what do I do? I’m a little OCD in that if I do join in the MCU, I’ll need to start from the beginning – all the way back to Iron Man. And I still don’t know if I can be arsed. So that’s my quandary. The very definition of a first world problem I know, but still annoying.
But, they just kept coming. And they started to (by all accounts – still not seen most of them) improve. But the problem was, Marvel was in the process of creating this connected mega-universe and threading all the narratives around each other. By the time Joss Whedon was announced as writer and director of Avengers Assemble I began to get interested. But it was all too late. There were too many to catch up with. And they kept on coming, and kept on improving. Avengers got raves pretty much everywhere. Was talked in to watching Guardians of the Galaxy, which was just brilliant fun (I figured that while still forming part of the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU), it sat far enough outside it that I could manage). The second Captain America opened to rave reviews indicating it was a thriller about corruption in the powerful along the lines of All the President’s Men. And the orgasmic reviews keep coming; Ant-Man, Dr Strange and Civil War all met with rave reviews. Guardians of the Galaxy 2 was aces.
So what do I do? I’m a little OCD in that if I do join in the MCU, I’ll need to start from the beginning – all the way back to Iron Man. And I still don’t know if I can be arsed. So that’s my quandary. The very definition of a first world problem I know, but still annoying.
Tuesday, June 27, 2017
Losing their grip.
The press are losing their power to sway opinion. That’s the clearest and most overwhelming feeling I got from the recent election. It’s always been a cliché that you shouldn’t believe everything you read in the paper, but, if that paper is re-enforcing an entrenched opinion then readers will generally lap it up, regardless of whether or not said paper is spouting utter bullshit.
The right-wing press certainly tried their best to ensure the complete and total victory of the ruling party, by spraying an astonishing amount of vitriol, most if not all of which is completely untrue, at the opposition. I would like to think that this is cause for hope. Might people finally be calling bullshit on Murdoch’s empire of hate?
There’s some way to go yet – just recently the Sun suggested that socialism will lead to mass graves and the ignorant kids don’t know what a vote against rampant capitalism will mean for them. I think the Sun continues to be full of shit and that perhaps the kids can see with their own eyes where rampant capitalism has led us and want something a bit fairer. I could be wrong, but I still hope.
If you read a paper I want you to challenge yourself. Read two, ensuring the second one is of a different persuasion. They’re not newspapers, they’re opinion pieces, and some are backed more by facts than others. Get out of your own filtered bubble. If you read the Sun, firstly, my condolences. Secondly, pick up a Mirror as well. Mail or Telegraph? Try a Guardian or Independent as well. See the other side of the story. Get a more complete picture.
Then, and this is the difficult part, refine your opinion based on what is actually true. Then, when it comes time to vote, choose based on manifestos (not the papers’ versions of them, but the actual manifestos), and not on how you’ve always voted before. Maybe then we’ll find the Magic Money Tree (clue: it’s offshore and in a computer). Maybe then we can prevent fucknuggets like Farage from dropping the whole country in the shitter and somehow being proud of it.
New occasional feature: Ending with a song relating to the post:
The Jam: News of the World: “Little men tapping things out, points of view, remember their views are not the gospel truth."
The right-wing press certainly tried their best to ensure the complete and total victory of the ruling party, by spraying an astonishing amount of vitriol, most if not all of which is completely untrue, at the opposition. I would like to think that this is cause for hope. Might people finally be calling bullshit on Murdoch’s empire of hate?
There’s some way to go yet – just recently the Sun suggested that socialism will lead to mass graves and the ignorant kids don’t know what a vote against rampant capitalism will mean for them. I think the Sun continues to be full of shit and that perhaps the kids can see with their own eyes where rampant capitalism has led us and want something a bit fairer. I could be wrong, but I still hope.
If you read a paper I want you to challenge yourself. Read two, ensuring the second one is of a different persuasion. They’re not newspapers, they’re opinion pieces, and some are backed more by facts than others. Get out of your own filtered bubble. If you read the Sun, firstly, my condolences. Secondly, pick up a Mirror as well. Mail or Telegraph? Try a Guardian or Independent as well. See the other side of the story. Get a more complete picture.
Then, and this is the difficult part, refine your opinion based on what is actually true. Then, when it comes time to vote, choose based on manifestos (not the papers’ versions of them, but the actual manifestos), and not on how you’ve always voted before. Maybe then we’ll find the Magic Money Tree (clue: it’s offshore and in a computer). Maybe then we can prevent fucknuggets like Farage from dropping the whole country in the shitter and somehow being proud of it.
New occasional feature: Ending with a song relating to the post:
The Jam: News of the World: “Little men tapping things out, points of view, remember their views are not the gospel truth."
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