Judge & Jury

The Case for Happy Endings

2012-01-28T17:27:00.000+13:00

I'm having a bit of a mope-ish afternoon, so needed a bit of cynicism to carry me through. And what better way than with How it Should Have Ended.com:

Verdict: It does my heart good to see such fun. Many starz out of starz.

The Case for Songs About Rainbows

2012-01-26T19:23:00.001+13:00

Of course, the biggest thing about the Muppets in some New Zealand circles is Bret McKenzie's involvement in the musical direction, including writing the very Conchordian Man or Muppet:

The songs are stupidly, catchily awesome, so McKenzie definitely captures the spirit of the Muppets musically. But does the rest of the film succeed?

All in all, pretty much. Jason Segel obviously loves the Muppets (though seems to have dismissed Sesame Street and its 40+ years of continuous production and ignored the whole Muppets Tonight experiment when he co-wrote this film) and, as Gary, lead human and brother to the diminutive Walter, he has a ball. Amy Adams shows that she too is a big fan (and a better dancer than Segel), doing her best doe-eyed girl next door as Mary.

But the film is not about the humans, despite a magnificent number of cameos: Jack Black is great, though Neil Patrick Harris gets the best line; Kristen Schaal brings some Conchord flavour on screen, though Emily Blunt gets the best female role (reprising her own from Devil Wears Prada) and brings along her real-life hubbie John Krasinski for a non speaking role; and there are Sarah Silverman, Donald Glover, David Grohl. And there were more classic stars as well, with Whoopi Goldberg, Mickey Rooney and Alan Arkin all showing up briefly.

No, even with all these, the real stars are of course the Muppets themselves. Most of them sound a bit funny, with their original voice actors having moved or passed on, and so they don't feel quite the same as they once did (the purist in me says), but they are classic characters nonetheless. While Kermit, Miss Piggy and Fozzie get most of the dialogue, and Animal gets most of the Muppet laughs, I was thrilled to see that some of my favourite minor characters (Rowlf in particular, but also Lew Zealand (of course) and Crazy Harry), getting their own few seconds, and the Wayne and Wanda snog session (and that was not misspelled) was hilarious. But new character, 80s Robot, really tickled my funny bone, ear piercing connection to the internet sounds included.

And most of the humour is on key too, even if the voices aren't quite, and wannabe Muppet Walter is often on the annoying side. It's all done with so much love and good humour it is hard not to be swept along with the joy that the makers of the movie obviously felt. At two hours long (including a surprise Toy Story short) there is the room for some draggy bits, and there are some, but the draggy bits don't last too long, and it is on to something more familiar, or else an amusing song. And there is nothing wrong with that.

If they had chucked in a scene of Veterinarian's Hospital, then I really would have been in Muppet heaven.

Verdict: The Muppets gets most things right, and the kids in the audience laughed loud though not necessarily at the same time as I did. A reminder of everything we have lost, in many senses (Jim Henson, you are missed), the film is a return to an age of wholesome non computer generated insanity - well, when Wayne and Wanda aren't steaming up the screen anyway. 9 lighting of lights out of 10.

The Case for Rare Metal

2012-01-18T18:41:00.000+13:00

No idea what the comment from espresso-cup was on about last post, but that's okay - the internet is like that.

Another journey to the mystical yet poorly laid out mini theatres at the Embassy took me to another Oscar worthy film (and indeed, it has already won a Golden Globe), The Iron Lady. Meryl Streep is always awesome to watch, and she eerily portrays Margaret Thatcher, the highly divisive former British Prime Minister.

The film itself has come in for some criticism for showing Lady Thatcher as she is "now", occasionally suffering from dementia. Having heard that there would be that element, I was not surprised when The Iron Lady started out in the "now", and indeed, I was quite liked that the films starts with Thatcher going out to buy milk in a very modern London, where she was the only white person in the store.

What I had not expected was how long the movie dwelt in the now. While there is no denying Streep's "old" performance is amazing, and Jim Broadbent has a bit of fun in his role as Dennis, I got a bit... perhaps not annoyed, but confused by why the film seemed to linger here when, as a biopic, I would have thought the bulk of the movie would have been concerned with Thatcher's controversial decade-long reign.

The Iron Lady is set around Thatcher coming to terms with her age, occasionally ruminating on "highlights" from her impressive career. From her humble beginnings as a grocer's daughter, we see how she meets her partner for life and has her children, we get an idea about her rise to office, and then Meryl takes over as Thatcher and we go through the "big events" in the life of Thatcher the politician: becoming Prime Minister, breaking the unions, IRA bombings, the Falklands War and of course, her ultimate demise.

Everything is shown with an amazing flair for the outfits, but it all feels a bit budget in a way; the sets are small and cramped, almost as if it was all shot inside a big manor, though perhaps the titanic performances just make everything else look small. As the story is told in flashback, we see things as Thatcher (supposedly) recalls them, but it does seem a bit disingenuous then to focus on what are the more obvious "big events" than making an emotional connection to events that might not have been so public (and relatively short), but which might have had more impact on her life. For example, there are several allusions to Thatcher sacrificing her family for her career, but there is scant time to reflect on these personal difficulties when Thatcher is contemplating going to war.

Similarly, the IRA bombings seem to be treated as uncontrollable events that destroy people or buildings prominent in Thatcher's life, and are basically ignored as an issue that can be addressed when Thatcher assumes power. For all the film portrays, the IRA could still be a potent terrorist force in the UK, though I suppose the Iron Lady is not really a film about the IRA.

After the Falklands War, things turn rosy for Thatcher (a short, successful war always seems to please the patriotic imperial public and make the war leaders more popular) and a montage takes care of her story from there until the afterglow of battle wears off and she is deposed. It seems a shame to gloss over the fall of Soviet-led communism (and the affairs of Europe in general) and the role of Thatcher, but again, perhaps those affairs weren't fast or public enough. And the extreme speed at which her fall from the leadership is charted doesn't really explain why the politics that worked so well in the past became toxic (was she really rolled because her personality became too abrasive more than her views became too unpalatable?), but then, as with most things in this film, the depth of the events is lost in the desire to show Thatcher in full, school-marmish flight.

Of course, Meryl Streep is and should be the centre of attention. Her Thatcher at the peak of her powers is incredible to behold, her older Thatcher still hypnotising but almost from a different film. As I said before, at times I was wondering if I was actually watching a film about dementia and old age rather than a biopic of the life and times of Margaret Thatcher. Films about ageing can be incredible (On Golden Pond is a Katharine Hepburn (suffering from Parkinson's, but still feisty and unstoppable) and Henry Fonda classic; and if you have not seen Away From Her with the luminous Julie Christie, it is worth the watch though I will admit that it is not the cheeriest of subject material), but I wasn't quite expecting a meditation on being elderly going into a film about Margaret Thatcher.

But overall, it is hard not to be impressed by the performances, especially Streep's of course, though the line up of British thesping talent lending their faces to members of parliament is equally noteworthy (Richard E Grant not hamming it up; John Sessions being boring; Anthony Head being an uncool nerd - these are not things one sees every day... unless one watches Buffy the Vampire Slayer I suppose, though Giles did have a past...). While the story might not quite be what I was expecting or perhaps hoping for, the people involved give amazing performances and definitely make The Iron Lady worth seeing.

Verdict: The Iron Lady will probably earn Streep another Oscar in her incredible portrayal of the United Kingdom's first (and so far only) female Prime Minister. Controversial in life, this film concentrates more on dealing with the death of her husband than dealing with unions, Argentines, the IRA and the Cold War, but even with that surprising slant, it is still a great movie. 8 strings of pearls out of 10.

The Case for Free E-mail Love and Free View

2012-01-13T18:25:00.001+13:00

I am a doctor in the United Kingdom apparently.

Once, a long time ago, my hotmail account was included in a group e-mail sent by a bunch of medical staff in some hospital in the north of England. It was an invitation for the group to head off on holiday together on the continent somewhere. As I thought the real recipient would want to receive that e-mail as I knew I could appreciate the idea of going abroad with a group of mates, I wrote back and had to, sadly, decline that invitation and suggested they check their e-mail addresses and resend it to the appropriate person.

I am sure I got an acknowledgement to that e-mail saying that, sorry, it wasn't intended for me (they admitted it was harder to plan a weekend trip to Europe from New Zealand) and that, yes, they would remove my e-mail from the list. Except that they didn't.

Over the subsequent months, I got a few more e-mails from the adventurous group, and sent fewer e-mails in response denying that I was the droid that they were looking for. But my Jedi mind tricks did not work, and so on that list I stayed.

Since then, I have been invited to many trips around Western Europe. I have been asked several times if I would like to lend my medical skills to working different shifts, filling in for some of my colleagues who are off doing other things. I have been informed that, because I worked over the weekend, I am entitled to quite a bit of overtime, and have been sent documents outlining what I should be able to claim. And, in the latest of topic threads, I am now a keen poker player and have been invited several times to come over and clean house.

It is an interesting thing to be permanently included in such an e-mail list. For a start, they really do seem a pretty awesome group, even I don't ever recall ever having met any of its members.

And, it is also interesting as it makes me think of how I send my own e-mails. I have a few default contact groups of my own, which I use every so often, and as I don't expect to hear back from everyone, I just have to presume that the people receiving them are all intended recipients. I also have to admit that my own group e-mails are nowhere near as interesting as these from the UK. [As an aside, I have also taken to blind copying people in on group e-mails after an incident also a long time ago where one person who did not appreciate being included on a group e-mail responded with a "Reply All" e-mail that was not particularly... civil].

But I also feel a bit bad still being on that list. Should I go back and try to tell them (perhaps all of them) that mine is not the address they should be including? I have been on that list for years now, so how would they react to learn that I had been listening in?

It's kind of like Facebook, where (should there be an accidental friend request and acceptance) I could see the threads of other people whom I don't really know and so keep a track of what they are up to - though using Facebook, of course, they would also be able to keep tabs on me.

Perhaps one day, in another life, I will meet someone on that list, and I will learn that it was actually me they were inviting all that time and that they were bitterly disappointed that I never came along to anything that they had organised - which is pretty unlikely. Perhaps the group will turn to lives of international intrigue and crime and realise that they have one of those unwelcome listeners in that will need to be tracked down and brutalised in a spectacularly unpleasant way - I do hope that this is not the case.

In the end though, I think I will just continue to delete the e-mails and not raise any flags. It is easy to tell when e-mails are from the group from the subject lines, meaning that I don't really need to open the e-mail itself to make that determination. And so my e-mail life will go on as it has always done, and I will just smile a small smile when I see another e-mail from that group in my inbox.

Verdict: Technology means we are more connected and in contact with people than ever before, even if we don't always know them at all. Or perhaps that is the point? This blog could probably attest to that... Many electrons out of the ether.

Oh, and I have to mention this (better late than never): RIP Stratos television. Freeview has lost one of its brightest stars. Hopefully Al Jazeera English and/or some of the other channels that now no longer have a New Zealand audience will decide to join Freeview so we will get a decent 24 hour news channel on free to air. Considering TVNZ7 is doomed to end this year as well, from memory, we desperately need one. And Freeview itself? Well they seem happy to let everyone join SKY as they seem unable or unwilling to be proactive in attracting channels to the Freeview platform, which really sucks.

Verdict: Sorry to see you go Stratos; and I poke out my tongue in your general, uninterested direction Freeview. 2 radio waves out of 10.

The Case for Mission in Action 4

2012-01-11T20:30:00.000+13:00

You know, partway through seeing Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol, I thought to myself that my review would end up being really positive. I mean, there had been everything I had expected: car chases, explosions, gunfire, improbable dangling from the tallest building in the world (well, for now), international intrigue in exotic locations and with incredibly attractive people. So basically, it was proving to be a huge dumb movie that didn't take itself too seriously.

But then... the final reel played (if they do, these days), showing what happened in the aftermath of all the mayhem. And what happened was... boring. No, it was worse than boring: it was stupid. Because, despite some nice cameos for characters seen in earlier films, the final drink shared by the surviving members of the team was water boardingly painful in its dripping sentiment and brain numbing exposition. And it seemed to take ages as well, and so my mind, running idly for most of the two hours running time of the film, suddenly flared to life to try and keep me from being thrown into a coma.

And, in that rush of adrenaline, so many aspects of the film that I had just glossed over as it had passed by were suddenly thrown into sharp focus. The Apple and BMW product placement must surely have paid for the film (of the many, many gadgets that went wrong for this mission, none of them bore any identifying logo). The BMW concept car was definitely cool, even if its windshield sat-nav looked incredibly dangerous to use in real life. The Dubai and Mumbai tourism agencies were obviously less strict around guidelines for use of their locations than either Apple and BMW were for their products, and so seemed quite happy for their cities to be seen as havens for international terrorism and megawealthy megalomaniacs, probably due to the cities' ineffectual and disinterested security forces. Jeremy Renner obviously didn't mind not have a lot to do, his tortured analyst character pretty... well, superfluous amongst the characters embodying comic relief, inspiring action leader and hot lady agent. Speaking of which, my, but Paula Patton is a seriously stunning woman - why was there not more of her again?

And yes, the harsh light of analysis showed that there were lots of glaring plot holes (which may also be spoilers - so skip this paragraph if you prefer not to know): Why did super fit killing machine agent Ethan Hunt (Tom Cruise) have so much trouble running after and combating a Scandanavian professor at least 10 years his senior? Did the "forces for good" really not know Cobalt's identity, or do the American intelligence agencies really have up to date movement profiles on every person in the world who has ever had anything to do with politics or a field at least tangentially related to nuclear physics? Why did the Russian authorities decide it was in the public interest to open fire using high powered automatic weapons on an unmarked car travelling at sedate speed in the middle of Moscow? If someone had blatantly lied to me for a long period of time and so was obviously using me to get to someone I knew, would I really be thrilled to have them back in my life? And would the USA really wait until a ballistic missile detonates in the middle of a major continental city before retaliating in kind (as I must assume they would be aware of this kind of thing approaching)?

But, thinking back, when I was in the middle of it all, the demands of logic or sense didn't really bother me. It starts off with action, goes to undercover work, then action, then explosions, then a new exotic location, then undercover work, action... it's all pretty exciting and occasionally mildly amusing - until the final 20 excruciating minutes of course.

Verdict: Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol succeeds in all the areas it should - action, adventure, style - and fails only when it tries to add depth and sense to proceedings. It really should have stuck to its strengths. 6.5 fuses out of 10 (I feel I should give it more, but really, that ending... ugh).

The Case for the Second Element

2012-01-09T21:09:00.000+13:00

There is a fairly simple equation in moviedom at the moment.

Robert Downey Junior + starring role + outrageous character + lots of screen time = awesome movie.

Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows follows this equation fairly closely, and unsurprisingly, it is box office gold.

(As an aside, one of the previews was for the Avengers movie, with Robert Downey Junior (RDJ) as Iron Man, and if the advertisement is anything to go by, the Marvel guys know the RDJ equation too, giving him huge amounts of speaking time and hopefully making him the centre of, well, everything).

I only saw the first Sherlock Holmes movie recently, but was bitten by the rough and tumble antics that turned Holmes from a detective that Miss Marple could have beaten in a brawl to a street fighter with an uncanny brain and an ego the size of a slightly odd planet.

Keeping Holmes in check is Watson, and Jude Law makes the same transformation for this staple character that RDJ does, though he makes sure to keep Watson well behind Holmes and let that character shine. And in this movie, to add even more posturing and posing, Stephen Fry appears as Sherlock's (Shirley) brother Mycroft, using the power of his stiff upper lip and quite a bit of nudity to show that brains and a sense of entitlement run in the family.

This is very much a boys movie, and while there are some stunning females in Rachel McAdams and an untattooed Noomi Rapace, they don't really get a whole lot to do. There is lots of running and shouting, explosions and bare knuckle brawls, and some very impressive camouflage outfits as well.

About the only thing that got to me was the length of the film. At over 2 hours, I had a hard time keeping up my enthusiasm about two-thirds of the way through, but this might also have been because I was watching the late night session and so experienced the two-third mark at around 12.30am. Such lateness could have also dulled my critical thinking, as could the fact I was watching it from the luxurious leather seats at the Embassy cinema, but I don't think so, as I could see some of its flaws.

A lot of the story and twists were fairly obvious. Some of the action and adventures were pretty improbable. Some of the humour was a bit unfunny. But you know what? I didn't really care.

Everything is so much fun, so much energy, that it doesn't matter that the film is completely bonkers. Because RDJ and director Guy Ritchie make all of that insanity incredibly watchable, and therefore make Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows a great film to watch. If a little long.

Verdict: Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows is a huge amount of madcap energy made by and with people who seem to be having a fantastic time. All that energy and talent is captured in the film, making it a wonderful if rather brainless film to be enjoyed by everyone. 9 bakers out of 10.

The Case for Melacholic Meteoroids

2012-01-04T21:10:00.001+13:00

In a week where I saw the Hollywood treatment of the end of the world in Armageddon, it was very sobering to see how Lars von Trier handles the same kind of subject. Not for him an asteroid that can be cleft in twain by a well placed nuclear explosion. Melancholia is instead a planet bigger than the Earth, hurtling towards us, threatening our very existence.

Odd to think that this peril is actually the backdrop to the bipolar character of Justine, played with incredible intensity by Kirsten Dunst. After a very operatic opening, not dissimilar to parts of the Tree of Life (and all the slow, ponderous imagery that invokes), Melancholia focuses on Justine's marriage to her blond suitor (a very un-vampiric Alexander Skarsgård). Her sister Claire (a mildly pathetic Charlotte Gainsbourg) has put together an elaborate affair, inviting family members who can barely tolerate each other and workmates who seem determined to work Justine to the bone, but all that matters little: Justine is pretty much the instrument of her own destruction and the initial euphoria of the wedding slowly fades as life weighs heavily upon her.

The second part of the film, focusing on Claire, brings the depressed Justine and the impending global catastrophe together. Keifer Sutherland, as Claire’s husband, is fairly calm considering his usual 24 hecticity, and his performance is all the more gripping because of it.

The merit of Lars von Trier films may elude many, and his comments of late have been… unwise, to say the least, but there can be little doubt that he does manage to elicit some amazing performances from his cast. This film also doesn’t stick to his usual dogme style, but it is pretty hard to do so considering the natural disaster bent of the movie. Indeed, the special effects are incredible, if a bit slow (tedious?), with a scene with two moons casting their own shadows over a deserted golf course sticks in my mind as an image of incredible beauty.

But, while beautiful, Melancholia is slow (of course) and the characters are not terribly sympathetic. Dunst’s performance may be astonishing, but there are certain times I just wanted to slap her and scream at her to just get in the goddamned bath.

Understanding was not my friend that night, but it did not stop me from enjoying the film. Of course, the fact I was viewing this film in the new mini-Embassy cinemas constructed underneath the main hall was a delight in itself – even if the architect put the aisle in the middle of the room, thus robbing anyone of the chance of seeing any film in that prized “pole” position. Despite that small fault, I can't wait to see another movie there soon.

Verdict: That Melancholia will not be to everyone's taste should not really be a surprise to anyone who knows anything about von Trier's work. But if you don't mind a film with slow, brooding intensity, with some amazing performances, and with a threat to the Earth that a handful of Americans in a spaceship have very little chance of avoiding, then this might be a film for you. 7.5 Prozac pills out of 10.

The Case for Belgian Reporters

2011-12-30T09:15:00.000+13:00

The Adventures of Tintin in 3D is sold as a visual experience from those masters of movies, Spielberg and Jackson. And to cut to the quick, it pretty much is.

The animation is absolutely incredible. The people (besides their faces) all look and move with a realism that indicates that there is new technology besides motion capture at work. Oddly enough, the brief appearance of the singing Comtessa was the animated highlight, her clothing and gestures so incredibly realised that it almost appeared that a real woman had been filmed and only her head digitally replaced.

And for a change the 3D is really worth it. I noticed it many times through the swirling camera angles and frenetic action, and was amazed an impressed each time.

The only down side were bits of the story. Tintin is a tale from another time, and the bumbling antics of Thomson and Thompson and some of the plot developments creak under the age of the source material. Captain Haddock's battle with alcoholism is meant to be a source of mirth but, viewed with a packet of ghost chips, doesn't seem as amusing as I am sure it is meant to be.

But overall, the film is a fantastic ride. The incredible freedom that comes with a completely generated world is put to amazing use, and in the end, I was looking forward to Tintin's next adventure.

Verdict: The Adventures of Tintin was definitely a movie to see in 3D, and most definitely was a film worth seeing. 8 Unicorns out of 10.

The Case for Walking Boots

2011-12-14T21:35:00.000+13:00

I think I set my expectations too high going into Puss In Boots, starring one of the coolest characters from the Shrek scene. Shrek itself had become a bit stale, but I suppose I expected a return to mental form and an animation delight.

I also think that the bar set by Arthur Christmas the week before had really raised the standard I was expecting. That was such a good film, I suppose I was anticipating even more from Dreamworks. But that was not to be.

That's not to say that Puss in Boots is not a good film. It really is. Quite funny, lots of skewed fairytale references, Antonio Banderas. It's just that it's a little slow. A little too serious. A little dancy.

It also stars the voice talent of Zach Galifianakis, from the Hangover, as Puss in Boots wayward "brother" Humpty Dumpty. I didn't realize he provided that voice until after the film, but it possibly explained why I didn't really like the character that much, which may have been my whole problem with the film itself.

The basic plot is that Puss In Boots, Kitty (Selma Hayek) and Humpty try and track down the magic beans so that they can get the goose that lays the golden eggs and become rich and redeem themselves in the eyes of their hometown. Their banter is occasionally amusing, but these characters are all meant to be fairly competent and so don't generate a lot of laughs - part of the fun of the Shrek series came from the fact donkey was completely bonkers, and a lot of the laughs came at his expense or naivety. At any rate, the adventurers encounter perils and magic and lots of cat jokes on their quest, and experience quite a bit of pace-sapping soul searching as well. There was so much that I almost fell asleep at certain points, even though it was a pretty early screening.

But there were laughs as well. Plastic bottles full of water defied the technological era in which the film was set; Jack and Jill never looked so sinister; and the golden gosling was very cute.

However, as the end credits rolled, I realised I was pretty glad it was over. Perhaps the 3D version would have been more invigorating, but I doubt it. It was a good film, above average on a whole lot of levels, but for me at least just missing that spark which made it good.

Verdict: Puss In Boots strikes out on his own and makes a decent film, but not one that will live on in legend. Well, not the legend I would write anyway. 6.5 golden eggs out of 10.

The Case for Aardman Christmas

2011-12-08T05:57:00.001+13:00

Christmas movies normally are by their nature a turn off for me. They tend to be saccharine, sentimental things, dripping with songs and a happy ever after message that leaves me a bit nauseous. Luckily, there are some antidotes to this: Bad Santa; the classic one with Bill Murray (Scrooged, I believe); a few others. I can't claim that Arthur Christmas is one of those "antiXmas" movies, as it is not, but I had heard that the humour was pretty amusing and as it is also an Aardman production, it definitely seemed worth a look.

Even if that look had to be in 3D - Reading Cinemas, in their infinite wisdom, did not have a 2D session screening after 4.00pm. And so, I was forced into a pair of the unflattering 3D goggles, but then I have to admit that the 3D was actually pretty good.

As was the whole movie, actually. It helps having an amazing cast, with Jim Broadbent playing dim-witted Santa (which he does pretty well, as he has had lots of practice playing bumbling), Bill Nighy stealing the show as the crotchety GrandSanta, and Hugh Laurie beating his chest as the modernising Santa-in-waiting, Steve (loved his goatee too). The female voice actors, including Imelda Staunton and that lass from Extras, are also magnificent, even though they are not given a whole lot to do. The main character, Arthur, is voiced by James McAvoy and he is as good as you would expect, though I could quite easily hear Ewan McGregor putting on a similar starstruck English accent to pretty much the same effect.

The story is pretty barmy, and ends up as a flying race around the world (hence the benefit of watching it in good 3D), but where it really shines is in some of the throw away lines and props: a tube of Grandsanta's Chimney Lube sits unremarked (but greatly appreciated) in one scene; one child writes to Santa asking, "If you live in the North Pole, how come I can't find you on Google Earth?"; and as the crisis in the story reaches its peak, the Elves begin to doubt everything, one amongst the near hysterical throng crying, "Children are antimatter!", much to my mirth.

Sure, there are songs and familiar (yet ultimately meaningless) Christmas carols though this is mercifully not a musical. The movie teems with Northern Hemisphere Christmas imperialism (where if it's not snowing, it's not Christmas; everyone seems to write to Santa in English) but then, while the animation and references are pretty sophisticated, the basic premise of the story is not.

Overall though, it is hard to find too many faults with the film. Arthur Christmas is just so nice, so brimming with bonkers ideas, and Grandsanta is just so hilarious that it is very easy to like and, dare I say it, almost love this film.

Verdict: 'Tis the season to be jolly, and films like Arthur Christmas make it very easy to be so. It's a shame that Wallace and Gromit don't make a guest appearance, but Aardman productions make another brilliant movie, and the premium British voice cast is just the icing on the cake. 8.5 chestnuts roasting over an open fire out of 10.

The Case for Mortal Gods

2011-11-30T19:56:00.001+13:00

"In the style of 300" is not always a phrase that brings a huge amount of anticipation. Sure, there will be lots of beautiful women, shirtless men, slow motion action scenes, and a fair amount of brutality and blood, but these are not always good things.

In the case of Immortals though, they are. Well, its more that Immortals has a pretty impressive cast that can pull all of the above off. I refused to see Clash of the Titans (on the big screen, so far) because I have no faith in Sam Worthington's abilities, but I knew very little of Henry Cavill, soon to be Superman, and so I was willing to give it a shot.

And my leap of faith was rewarded. I have no idea how Cavill will pull off a Clark Kent (still a fan of how the strapping Brandon Routh stepped into Christopher Reeve's awkward shoes) as, playing Theseus, he was a buff, square jawed hero with a good heart but no other weakness. But as solid a performer as he was, the real acting honours had to go elsewhere.

The 3D effects (and 7.1 surround sound) might have been impressive, but that all paled into insignificance whenever the heavenly Freida Pinto, playing the oracle Phaedra, came on the screen. Perhaps there were a couple of metres of gauze between her face and the camera, and any imperfections were digitally edited out, but this woman is absolutely stunning. And only once was her divine botty on display - for all the skin and gore, this was definitely not like the TV series Spartacus.

Stephen Dorff was also along as the wisecracking Stavros, but he wasn't given a huge amount to do, so perhaps it was more my soft spot for him that elevated his efforts above Cavill in the acting stakes. Oddly enough, the gods themselves were all pretty dull and lifeless, though John Hurt as the Old Man makes a very good storyteller, though he has been playing that role now for years, so he is well practiced.

No, the real star of the film was the resurgent Mickey Rourke as the mad King Hyperion. His low growl and imposing physique made the King incredibly threatening but, impressively, remarkably engaging. He was brutal, had a strict moral code (of his own), was unswerving in his belief, inspirational to his men, and felt like a mortal that could threaten the existence of the gods themselves. His motivation for releasing the entrapped Titans and so that they might destroy the Olympians make complete sense (well, within the confines of the movie), and I was more than half hoping that he would end victorious - not because I disliked Theseus, more because Rourke (and I mean Rourke) was so cool.

The film is definitely not perfect. It drags an awful lot in places, mainly in some of the slow motion action scenes, and there is a fairly awful rousing speech by Theseus to the Hellenics that made me want to either hit the mute button or fast forward to the next scene. Greek mythology is not treated with a huge amount of respect, which could offend the purists (I can't claim to be an expert, but I was able to overlook most of the liberties that I noticed). The peacemakers are definitely not blessed in this film; and the war makers seem to have a pretty lazy way about them, allowing the enemy to run around pretty easily unless they are engaged in battle.

But this was never going to be the cinematic equivalent of A Brief History of Time. The film exists to provide action and look good, and it does all that and remains engaging thanks to the amazing cast. Oddly enough, this may be a film I get later on DVD - or perhaps BluRay, to really be able appreciate those visuals.

Verdict: Immortals will never live eternally in the annals of movie greats, but it was a great 3D big sound epic. Sure, the ending was on the cheesy side of naffness and really quite disappointing, and it was a tad on the slow side, but it hit several of my buttons, enough for me to really enjoy it. 7.5 bows and arrows from the Dungeons and Dragons 1980s cartoon series out of 10.

The Case for Twihard 4: Twying Very Hard

2011-11-27T13:34:00.000+13:00

I have an unhealthy fascination with the Twilight series, one that I have to categorise under "guilty pleasure" in my internal monologue of self justification. Why else do I subject myself to these films when, every time, they end up being pretty bad?

But the series is coming to an end, and Breaking Dawn Part 1 starts to wrap things up, albeit very slowly and with lots of overwhelming yet underwhelming music. Seriously, the soundtrack is incessant and all permeating and just when I thought I had got used to it, it got irritating again. It takes talent to make a score quite that irksome.

Anyway, the actors: Pattinson, Stewart and Lautner have come a long way from the first film, but only really Lautner seems to be looking to the future in this film, keeping his pecs and abs inside his tight tees rather than walking shirtless for most of the film, and trying to show Jacob as conflicted yet tender, kind yet aggressive. I say "try" as most of Lautner's acting seems to be done with his forehead, but to be honest, he is not given a huge amount of material to work with and what he is given is pretty dire. Jacob is, as ever, the farthest point in the isoceles love triangle that is his relationship with Bella and Edward, and as such there is a bit of a struggle to try and keep his character relevant amongst all the Vampire love.

Because of course, the story focuses on Bella and Edward, and Pattinson and Stewart seem quite comfortable as being as sullen and staunchly mysterious (guess which is which) as ever. I am not sure what the careers of these two actors will hold post Twilight, but they will be hard pressed to break those undead chains, I imagine.

This film is definitely for the girls, so there is an interminable wedding scene that is as completely lacking in romance and chemistry as the rent a crowd who magically appear (Bella has friends? Or did they just invite the whole town over?) for this most intimate of occasions. The film then turns into an unnecessarily extended travel video for Brazil as a wonderful honeymoon destination, before returning to the USA so that some actual action can take place.

For what happens in this film - and in the entire series - this webcomic explains everything, so yes spoiler alert if you click the link.

As for the movie... well, its long and designed to sell a blatantly manipulative soundtrack and very little else. A few things do happen, though not many (to ensure it is a two part movie), there are some attempts at humour (I think), and everyone still loves Bella for reasons that continue to elude me.

Of course, I knew all this going in. While the third movie had some fairly decent moments, this is a return to the "form" of the previous overwrought installments. So I really shouldn't complain, although I am; and I really shouldn't be surprised, which I was not.

No, I am really not the target audience for this type of movie, though the person sitting next to me, laughing uproariously at every mild attempt at humour and crying inconsolably with every false emotion, obviously had all her buttons pressed - except her self destruct button, which I was on occasion tempted to activate.

Verdict: Breaking Dawn Part 1 is everything I expected and feared, but it was better than the Hangover 2 which I also saw at the incredibly awesome Roxy Cinema. And I will of course have to go and see the final movie... 6 fang marks out of 10.

The Case for an Ad or Two

2011-11-19T07:20:00.000+13:00

This was inspired by a comment on 7 Days, as ever since then, I have been unable to look away whenever this ad is on the television.

I don't quite know how they did it, but Daikin have managed to make Dan Carter look like he is just saying "Matt Damon" over and over again, and even though he is a pretty good looking guy, that does not stop him looking very creepy hanging up on the wall and staring at people anywhere in the room. Epic fail? Of course, Carter is probably laughing all the way to the bank from his very warm home, but the ad puts me off ever having one of those in my house.

On the other hand, there are commercials out there that are so brilliant that I will actually rewind my PVR to watch them.

I am listening and painting indeed...

Verdict: There are some pretty dire ads out there, but there are some that are truly brilliant too. 5 gherkins out of 5 when they get it right; part of an old unattractive gherkin when they get it well and truly wrong.

The Case for Beginning Again

2011-11-16T20:39:00.001+13:00

For a bit of a change from Readings fare, it was time to head back to the Paramount cinema to see one of the films back from wherever films go between the International Film Festival and general release. Even though there wasn't a large crowd, this screening was held in the main theatre, allowing me to appreciate how many interesting films I had seen in that room (including Clerks, The Room, some Incredibly Strange Festival films for years ago) and noticing the fading carpet, the battered walls, and that the only truly comfortable seats in the room are towards the front of the cinema.

The film, Beginners, has a pretty extraordinary cast. Ewan McGregor puts on his best American accent as Oliver (I am not sure if it is just that I know that he is not American that I find his accent irritating, or if it actually is pretty dire), from whose perspective this story of loves is told, and Christopher Plummer camps it up as his Dad, Hal, though he does not start singing any Sound of Music numbers unfortunately. Meanwhile, the luminous Melanie Laurent takes time out from killing Hitler on Inglorious Basterds to turning in a sweet and quirky turn as Oliver's love interest, Anna, and there is a intensely barmy performance by the wonderful Mary Page Keller as Hal's unfulfilled wife, Georgia. And, though I am more a cat person, I was almost willing to rush out and buy a dog like Arthur when the film came to an end.

This is not a loud film. Oliver is coming to terms with the death of his father, and the way his father's relationship with his mother has affected his own relationships with others. As such, there are a lot of internal monologues, flashbacks, drawings and walks in the park. His introspection attracts Anna (perhaps an advertisement for being a bit morose at parties), and their budding relationship causes Oliver to address his relationship fears.

While that romance is the main part of the story, there are the odd segues into the past. The history of the gay movement gets a bit of a (pardon the pun) outing, as Hal's lifestyle changes on the death of his wife, and in snippets we follow the final five years of his life before he too passes. Further back in time, a very young, floppy haired Oliver shows the life of his mother, in a marriage not necessarily loveless but distant, the absence of the father both emotionally and physically in complete contrast to Hal's life once his wife has passed away, and perhaps leading to Oliver's current relationship phobias.

There are chuckles, there are tears, there are moments. It's all based on the experiences of the writer/director Mike Mills and the story has the low key, unsensational feel of something fairly true to life. It also feels quite small, almost every scene in a small(ish) room or house, giving also lending to that personal quality. And I still had no idea how Oliver actually made money from his chosen profession and thus what he did to survive, but that is not important right now. The more important thing is the Ewan McGregor has great hair.

Verdict: Not really as deep or heavy hitting as it may sound on paper, Beginners covers a lot of ground in a light, home-y way. Its about new beginnings at any stage of one's life, and about opening up to those opportunities. And its about 7 Bansky-style graffiti drawings out of 10.

PS: Vote MMP!

The Case for Pink Cadillacs

2011-11-12T07:36:00.000+13:00

When I walked into the R18-rated Drive, I was prepared for a bit of violence, some pretty hardcore scenes, lots of swearing. However, I was not prepared to be instantly confronted with credits written in pink 16 Candles-style writing, nor a pretty overpowering soundtrack that itself would not be out of place in a 1980s film.

Once the titles were over though, the film settled into something less disturbing - or at least, more in keeping with what I was expecting. There is not a lot of dialogue in this film (though there do seem to be a fairly high proportion of Brits amongst the main cast), so the cast have to visually portray a lot of what their characters are meant to be. Towering above everyone in monolithic monosyllabic menace is Ryan Gosling, stripping his face of most emotion and replacing it with beige wallpaper: inoffensive, yet with potential (the film's name and the rating give away where that potential will take him).

The rest of the main cast are amazing as well. Acting all elfin and sweet, Carey Mulligan is the love interest (I think the sultry curves of Christina Hendricks have to take the "hottest chick" stakes in this film, despite her fleeting yet highly memorable appearance) and is able to convey both a sense of fragility and another of strength despite not having a lot to say or do. Bryan Cranston still seems to be Malcolm's Dad, though in this type of film, you know that kind of bumbling will not end well. And Albert Brooks is a lot less nurturing than his Nemo's Dad days as a calculating and un-squeamish ex-movie director, though he gets quite a bit of dialogue to make his position on what happens quite clear.

The film is almost Tarantino in its violence and style, though it is obviously not his by the dearth of dialogue and the fairly monotonous soundtrack. Nicolas Winding Refn seems to want to direct a moving painting of a movie, where the visual is everything, and he pretty much succeeds. There is no complicated storyline or 23 car speed chases to get in the way of a straightforward story told well, if pretty much silently.

About 30 minutes into the film, I was wondering why it had earned its R18 rating - and then that became abundantly clear. There is some massive violence in there, in complete contrast to the raging calm with which the film kicks off. Quite what this means, I will leave for those who go see the film to discover.

Reactions to the film even in the little group that I was with were diverse: some hated the blasting, depressing soundtrack and were searching for a special appearance by Molly Ringwald; others were a bit stunned, needing a period of time to properly assess what they had just witnessed; and the third group (of which I was one) loved almost every aspect of it. Not sure if I would really need (or want?) to see it again, but it was damned good nonetheless.

Verdict: Drive won't be for everyone - the age restriction will guarantee that. It is a stylish film both denouncing and revelling in violence and revenge, the main characters not wanting to get mixed up with it, but when they do, they are in for a penny and in for a pound (of flesh). Drive is also a fairly slow film, and wordlessness seems to equal attraction, though considering the physical state of the two leads, perhaps that is not so hard to believe. And it is... pretty awesome. 4th gear out of 5.

The Case for Thematic Appropriateness on TV - Part 1

2011-11-09T19:32:00.001+13:00

The other day, I had a TV theme song running around my head. Inspiration for a posting, I thought - the top 10 of the theme songs that actually had me anticipating the show that follows, even if the show doesn't always deserve it. And so, for a countdown - though in reality, the position of any of these will change depending on how I feel on the day.

10. The most guilty pleasure first: Growing Pains. The show might have been awful but I can barely remember it at all, so perhaps it wasn't even that. It wasn't even prime time viewing, if I recall. But the theme song sticks with me (and yes, it was the one that inspired this) and indeed one of the few things I do recall is that they messed around with the theme a couple of times to hideous effect. The "original" though remains the most... hypnotising?

9. I have to say that, like the theme song, Fringe the show has slowly grown on me, getting bigger and more impressive as it goes along. I always look forward to it:

8. Okay, the show may have jumped the shark a few series back, but there is no denying that the opening theme song of Top Gear just reeks of boyish energy, even if "boyishness" is more a case of attitude than age.

7. I have never actually completed watching every series, but I think I will have to just to see the opening theme song of the Sopranos again and again. So brooding, so dark, so ominous. So great:

6. The theme song of True Blood matches the crazy, sexy insanity that is the show, and I love them both:

5. The 1980s is responsible for many things, some good, some bad. One of the good ones was the opening credit sequence to Knight Rider, the link here given in the "original" German - as it always should have been:

4. Okay, the show is space hippie nonsense, but at least the theme from Space: 1999 keeps with that preposterous premise:

3. It was, like, so 90s, but the My So Called Life opening theme still speaks to the angsty teenager buried under all my age. And it occasionally makes me want to go out and wear a baggy plaid shirt or listen to some 60 Seconds to Mars...:

2. The Doctor Who theme song is itself timeless, but I think the best version is the one that graced the Peter Davison years, ditching some of the more ethereal aspects of earlier years and before it became overly orchestrated since the revamp:

1. But my favourite, even though I wasn't (and am not) the biggest fan of the show, has to be (as I have said before) the big, bombastic and adventurous theme to Stargate SG1. Sure, it is probably cheating a bit, as it did come from the movie, but still, I love it (the only one that I could embed is below, but a better version for seasons 1-3 can be found at this link):

Verdict: I do love my telly, and awesome opening credits can add a huge amount of enjoyment to that experience. But have I forgotten something? Make sure to let me know! Lots of notes in a song.

The Case for Timing Issues

2011-11-05T06:48:00.001+13:00

Okay, now there were several reasons why In Time was not high on my list of movies that I wanted to see, most of them beginning and ending with Justin Timberlake. I have seen him play bit parts okay, but from experience his presence in a film has indicated that the film is not really worth my presence (like the disappointing Southland Tales). However, with some hits under his belt (like The Social Network), I had thought that perhaps he had cast off those box office poison shackles and was ready to claim a career as a talented thespian.

But not with In Time.

No, his big emotional scene where he sits in the middle of a deserted street crying into the air with frustration and despair is akin to watching the revised Darth Vader screaming "Noooo" in any scene, so is a cringe worthy experience that had me looking away from the scene to hide my embarrassment (not that I needed to in a darkened cinema).

Okay, I am going to be brutal about this film. Perhaps not as brutal as Kate Rodger, who gave this one star (after I had chosen to go see it; damn), but, unlike the highly expressive woman to my right who gasped at every G-rated shirtless scene and screamed with delight at every telegraphed shock, I did not think that this was one of the greatest films that I have ever seen. Because I have seen a few.

The style is very retro futuristic, a future much like Gattaca, which is not surprising considering they share the same director in Andrew Niccol, but it is much less successful in its realisation, probably because it's just not as good. The people of this unspecified future time are genetically engineered to stop aging at 25, though the amount of time they have to enjoy that life is dependent on the economics of "time sharing". All women have been further genetically enhanced to be able to run long distances at speed in unfeasibly tall high heeled shoes (definite Darwinism there). However, this is a future with electric cars styled from the 1960s, and mobile phones and computers have likewise ceased to exist (it was the death of Steve Jobs, I tell you), and computers are barely seen and never heard. The story follows people trying to get themselves, and others, more time to live, and the Big Evil Corporations who are trying to stop them.

I can't really blame the actors for how flat it all is. Oh, okay, I can. Timberlake and Amanda Seyfried are all big eyes and run around a lot (in high heels), but they aren't terribly engaging characters. The villains are pretty bland too. There is a bit of mumbo jumbo of the "for a few to live forever, many must die" variety, but it doesn't really make a lot of sense. If they are they saying that there aren't resources enough for the population on the planet (a problem we currently have, no?), then that means our "hero" is fighting for the right for an environmental catastrophe; if it just about corporate greed, then there is actually no reason for the many to die and living forever is just seen as a status thing, which therefore makes the phrase pretty meaningless.

But then, the whole film is pretty vapid. And, at around two hours, it is needlessly long to boot. But, as mentioned, some of the audience thought this was the best thing since the digital watch (not the one imprinted in ones arm). And Johnny Galecki got to cast off his Big Bang Theory inner geek and got a simply gorgeous wife in the form of Yaya DaCosta - no wonder he signed up for the film!

Verdict: In Time has the unfortunate side effect of draining two hours from your life, though you notice it as you tend to keep watching your wrist watch for its entire length. No, that is too harsh: it was completely passable and instantly forgettable trash with delusions of depth. Not a one star, but not much more. Four years out of a decade.

The Case for Lessons After RWC 2011 - Part 2

2011-11-02T21:23:00.001+13:00

I do listen to my commenters.

I have got to say, finding any photos of Jerome Kaino changing shirts during a Rugby World Cup match is even harder to find than ones for Richie McCaw, but I think I have managed it:

After the end of the cup though, it seems many other All Blacks are getting in on the shirtless act. There is Victor Vito (who I also spotted at the gym tonight, though he was in his normal shirted form):

And there are Brad Thorn and Cory Jane:

But SBW is still the most bankable man in Rugby, even if some think that reputation is getting tarnished.

Verdict: Tracking down non-SBW shirt changing images from the Rugby World Cup 2011 is a job for someone with more time and patience than me. Many horse shoes out of good luck.

The Case for Lessons After RWC 2011 - Part 1

2011-10-30T08:59:00.001+13:00

Far be it from me to argue with rugby legend Sean Fitzpatrick, but I have to say that I reckon he is a little behind the times with what makes Kiwis tick. Though perhaps it is because he is working for the NZ Herald and that paper may hold more traditionalist views. Because, over on Stuff:

Yup, Sonny Bill Williams, and how to look good shirtless, is THE most important lesson learned from the 2011 Rugby World Cup. Perserverance? Determination? Faith? No, sorry Mr Fitzpatrick. Rugby made us smarter because, as much as the much vaunted new super funky rugby jersey may have scored an epic fail on the durability, ease of application and even fit stakes, it resulted in this:

And of course, Richie also had a shirt replacement incident, but that doesn't even seem to register with Stuff's SBW-centric staffers:

Of course, there is yet another article on Stuff about SBW, one actually related to news about who he will sign with, though the main link on this page is to the gallery of his opening game change.

So I really am sorry Sean, but your analysis of the game seems to come from way back in the mists of time from when the All Blacks last won the Rugby World Cup. We are living in the modern, professional game now, where personality (and physique) can trump those more quaint notions of what the game means to the country with a crunch from a well honed six pack.

Verdict: One week on, it seems what Stuff has taken from the Rugby World Cup 2011 does not have a whole lot to do with rugby, but does have a whole lot to do with Sonny. It makes me smile. 6 slabs out of 6.

The Case for Timeless Strolls

2011-10-26T19:21:00.001+13:00

I was a bit nervous going into Midnight in Paris. It had received good reviews, but it was a Woody Allen movie (I have had uneven experiences with his movies) and it starred Owen Wilson (who is so much less cool than brother Luke, it is a crying shame). Luckily though, Wilson was channeling the neurotic part of Allen, so while he may have irritated occasionally, most of the rest of the film was left to delight.

I have to say "most of the rest", Rachel McAdams' character, Inez, and the rest of her family quickly when from charming odd balls to highly unlikeable characters that just need to be run over by a wayward Peugeot around the Arc de Triomphe or poisoned by a poisson in some fancy French restaurant.

From the outset, the film is doused in fantasy, so what develops is not so much of a leap. Wilson's character Gil is in love with Paris, and is travelling there with his wealthy soon-to-be family in law. They all see the high end of Paris, with no trips on the Metro or litter on the streets to add a bit of ordinary colour to the painting of their fairytale trip. But Gil is unsatisfied: he pines for what he sees as the golden age of Paris, the 1920s, when writers and artists from all over the world descended on Paris in a creative fervour. And one night, while out walking, he gets to go back and rub shoulders with the people of that era.

Therein lies the fun of the film. While I didn't get all the references, there are some great turns by actors portending to be Cole Porter, (my favourite) Earnest Hemingway, F Scott Fitzgerald and hyperactive wife Zelda (the awesome Alison Pill, also from Scott Pilgrim), Gertrude Stein (a suitably brassy performance by Kathy Bates), Picasso, and an amusing turn by Adrien Brody doing a very odd Dali (Da-LI!) obsessed with rhinoceri.

With such a large group of legendary characters to draw from, all performed by such able actors, it is pretty hard not to lose oneself in the story. It is mainly just people running around saying things you would expect them to say in the way you would expect them to say them (well, those I knew did and I assume those who I didn't know would have, had I known what to look for), with Wilson's character mainly left saying "wow" every few minutes, to remind the viewer that this is not "supposed" to be happening.

It's almost a shame when the film shifts back to the present, especially after Marion Cotillard comes aboard and lights up the screen like she normally does as Adriana. Everyone else kind of fades into the background from that point on.

The film does not outstay its welcome, ending quickly enough once the life lesson has been learned. And what is that lesson? I would not want to spoil it by revealing it here - the film is worth a look, so I will leave that revelation for those who choose to see it.

Verdict: Midnight in Paris is a stroll through the past, a love story to the Paris that was and is - well, the romantic notion of Paris that ignores poverty and other social problems and the lives of the "insignificant" ordinary people who usually inhabit the real world. But go into the film not expecting to see anything approaching reality, and you (hopefully) will enjoy it just fine. 7.5 kilometres out of 10.

The Case for Celebrating RWC 2011

2011-10-24T07:18:00.000+13:00

Thanks to the NZ Herald, happiness is:

And my favourite:

Verdict: Not really a lot more to add - 8 to 7.

The Case for RWC 2011 Conclusions

2011-10-22T08:10:00.000+13:00

Well, the end is nearly nigh. Thank goodness.

I don’t know of anyone who has not enjoyed a game of Rugby over the past few weeks. The energy and enthusiasm, especially when supporting the “smaller” teams, has been infectious. And the games themselves have seemed a bit less burdened by the weight of the expectations of normal tours, their frequency and variety perhaps releasing the intense pressure of normal matches. The waves of tourists through the cities has also added a festival atmosphere to things, as city councils do their best to entertain them outside of the rugby venues, with flow on effects that locals can appreciate.

There is no doubting that the Rugby World Cup is news. There is a bit less justification for it being serious news. And oftentimes, because this is New Zealand, this is the only news.

Some New Zealanders like to delude themselves that this is a sporty nation. It is – within a very limited definition. Because this is a rugby nation. Valerie Adams’ phenomenal performance in shot put? The Silver Ferns battles on the netball court? Any female sport basically, and any male sport that is not rugby? Worth perhaps a mention.

Not that there is anything necessarily wrong with a national sport, and intense interest therein. For me though, as someone with more just a passing interest in the game, minimal interest in wall to wall coverage of what is fairly non news (as the only real rugby-related news happens on the field), and no interest in Rugby players selling me things, I am just about past the point where I can find good humour in the rugby frenzy.

Must the Kiwi media (and lay Kiwis too) be complete d!cks when describing (i.e., insulting) competitors from across the ditch? Does the desire of any team to win a game change so much that we require daily media conferences to confirm their enthusiasm? How many times can the media use Sonny Bill Williams’ image in stories barely even tangentially related to rugby, and is there some magic 6-digit number of times that they must refer to his physique?

It is great to see the players mingling with their fans despite the pressure they must be under, and it is sweet to hear of young ladies bringing their heroes presents (though I would have thought anyone at this stage would be wary of plates of food).

A lot of New Zealanders have invested a lot, emotionally, in this event. It’s a feel good story, a way to lose oneself, after so much awfulness – earthquakes, financial meltdowns, increasing costs – that, for the most part, people have been more or less helpless to prevent or to cure. From that perspective, this is a fantastic time that has lifted the spirit of a nation, even if just for a little while.

But, yeah, I am ready to move on myself. I suppose I should be thankful this feeling did not come earlier, when there were many more matches to be played. Last week, I was barely able to watch the Air New Zealand safety video without reaching for a barf bag (and that was before the plane even moved), but outside of that, I have had no signs of rugby overload until the last day or so.

So yes, it is nearly done. And I am much the happier for it. Win or lose.

Verdict: It's been fun, but its time to move on. But will we? 15 players out of 15.

The Case for the Chief's Speech

2011-10-19T20:30:00.000+13:00

If I have understood the hype correctly, the Orator is the first Samoan-only spoken film. It has got quite a bit of praise (including Kate Rodger, who gave the film a bit of an up-thumbing too) and was a gleaming jewel amongst the detritus littering most of the cinemas at the moment.

I am not sure of the appropriate term to use, but most of the story concerns the dwarf Saili, played by Fiaula Sanote, whose parents have died, and who is struggling with his loss and with the responsibility of looking after the two outcasts from another tribe. Tausili Pushparaj asVaaiga, his ailing wife, is incredibly intense and provides most of the dialogue in the first half of what, oddly, is a fairly dialogue-free film. Life on the island is shown as simple, slow-moving and religious, though the politics that bind and divide families and tribes are as complex as they come.

There are some moments of mirth in the film, but most of Saili's story is one painful encounter after another. After about the third, I wondered if this was the one that would push him over the edge and force him to take control of his destiny. But no: there were plenty more to come, and the film takes is slow, sweet time letting them take place. Finally though, the straw breaks the camels back, and the confrontation in the form of the oration, where a formal diplomatic dialogue is used to resolve disputes, gets underway. And, wow. Even if it is a bit cliché, it is pretty potent stuff.

At two hours, the film is not short, and its ambling pace, mirroring the island way of life, definitely does not make the film feel particularly short either. For all the island's beauty, there main characters are a pretty morose bunch, with some minor characters providing most of the film's relatively sparse levity.

Of course, I had to go the Lighthouse to see it, and ended up with a large Samoan family who brought along a pretty active one year old who ran to the screen a couple of times as part of a game. The little ones hijinks were noticeable, but nowhere near as profoundly irritating as that of some idiots at the end of my row who found almost every scene featuring Saili (intentionally funny, unsettling, or perilous) hilariously funny - possibly just because they were seeing a dwarf on screen doing "stuff". I was almost at the point of forsaking the rules or Oration and taking to them with a wooden mallet, but instead the film kept me from moving from my seat.

Verdict: The Orator was a slow, Island Time film, showing both the strengths and failings of a more traditional sort of family life. It's about finding inner strength and standing up for oneself, no matter who one is, in a way that earns the respect of others, rather than their scorn. 8 taro out of 10.

The Case for October Toplessness

2011-10-16T09:07:00.002+13:00

A timely blog on being topless today. Why "timely"? More on that later.

First off, to answer a request from the last entry on the Def Leppard concert. Unfortunately, I did not take any photos from within the concert venue myself, so I have no photos of any of those who spent the evening sans shirt (Phil Collen, young lads around me, and not the attractive young lady who bared her all for all), and I don't think my companions took photos of anyone who was not up on stage (well, besides themselves).

And so I have scoured the internet and found an approximation - and, besides the fact she wore a lot less make up (not that I really paid too much attention to her face), I reckon she looked a lot like this:

However, there is other shirtless news that needs to be addressed (and this is the "timeliness" bit, before the NZ v Australia match, which has yet to be played as I write this).

A few entries ago, I wrote up a "humourous" article on Sonny Bill Williams' wardrobe malfunction and the resulting hullaballoo. I mentioned that the shirts were designed to fail, and that Richie McCaw's shirt would require mid-match removal shortly, while Dan Carter's would wait until the final.

Well, Carter is now out of the World Cup, so that means the latter part of my "prediction" can't come true (though I see Carter will still get a bit of a bonus for his contributions up until his injury; and this same article also kind of explains how Corey Jane can afford to go out for a bender, and even more why he really shouldn't have). However, the Richie McCaw prediction actually did in the match against Argentina.

Miss it? I know I did, as it was nowhere near as well publicised as SBW's disrobing. SBW's goods' baring led to all sorts of "excuses" to show off his physique, including a "guess the bodypart" quiz on Stuff which has him prominently displayed more than once. But All Blacks Captain (soon to be Sir) Richie McCaw? Nada.

While I didn't see the game myself, there is some photographic proof out on the Interweb confirming this story, though not on any of the major local news sites as slideshows:

And from the looks of it, he also required assistance to put on his figure-hugging replacement "jersey":

McCaw has a huge number of fans out there, and indeed is considered one of the game's sexiest men, but it seems that, for some reason, his physique is not deemed as worthy of attention as other members of his team. Was this a sign of respect? Was this a decision made my the All Blacks? Or is Adidas getting a bit worried that all their shirts do seem to disintegrate when worn for anything sporty?

[As an aside, I noted a Nike top also fell apart in the France/England game, though again there was no slideshow montage showing each stage of the change process].

Whatever the reason, it will be interesting to see what hype surrounds the members of the team in the next 10 days, as the Rugby World Cup comes to an end. A new hero has arisen in the commanding presence of Piri Weepu, so perhaps he will be given the faulty (well, easily torn) shirt in the days to come.

Verdict: I always find it fascinating when people doing roughly the same thing are treated differently, and in particular how things are playing out and being hyped up during the Rugby World Cup. And full credit to the young lady at the Def Leppard concert. An appreciative smile out of a seedy leer.

The Case for Sugar and Armageddon

2011-10-13T15:11:00.001+13:00

The last time I was at the Vector Arena, I was disappointed to find my relatively expensive tickets had put me a fair way away from the stage and with a speaker stack between myself and the screen relaying events on stage. This time around, for the Shotgun Alley, Heart and Def Leppard combo, there were no such location gaffes. An early arrival and General Admission tickets meant that we were right up the front, 2 or 3 people away from the patrolled moat that separated the punters from the stage.

Being so early meant that we got to see every act in their entirety. And that was definitely not a hardship.

Shotgun Alley was up first, dressed in their most trendy black jeans, in shirts that made their most of their physiques (sculpted abs, broad shoulders, strong arms), in their most militant looking boots, and wearing a few kilos worth of silver in the shape of skulls and other heavy metal icons, and of course with hair that looked so scruffily unique that it must have taken hours to get it looking quite that perfect. I was not very well versed in their oeuvre before the show, but I have to say, with their head bangy set very tightly and professionally crafted, and a power ballad that is a bit more my thing, I was pretty well won over by the time they left the stage. They weren’t up for long, it has to be said, but they set the night off to a great start, and the young girls who seemed to make up the biggest section of the audience who were evidently fans of theirs seemed suitably and screamably impressed too.

After a bit of a break, the lights dimmed and out popped rock divas Heart. Off the top of my head, I could have identified one or two of their songs; by the end of their part of the show, I was surprised by how many of their songs I had recognised and, more importantly, enjoyed. There were a few misfires: their tribute to their first trip to the Antipodes was to serenade the audience with pop Ocker John Farnham’s You’re the Voice, though I seemed more offended by the mistaken cultural identity than the vast majority of the audience; super sappy These Dreams from the 80s is definitely a classic but really did not seem to go very well with the rest of their set (especially considering that they did not attempt All I Want To Do Is Make Love To You) and while Nancy Wilson’s guitar playing skills were incredible, she seemed to struggle a little with the vocals; and then there was a very interesting “glitch” that led to a looped scream that had the whole band dash off the stage in embarrassment – it sounded like a the lip-synch track had got stuck, though the band recovered well enough, getting back on stage once that technical error had been resolved and never looking back (I had hoped the other reviews would elaborate on this from a more knowledgeable perspective; but they did not).

Overall though, the music was amazing. Ann Wilson, all big boots and black hair, stomped backwards and forwards as if she were crushing cockroaches in her wake, belting out her notes with no care for the shattering of eardrums around the hall. While Shotgun Alley walked around a little, the girls from Heart went on a walking tour of Auckland, Nancy Wilson’s trip cut a little short when her guitar lead refused to go the distance to the end of the runway with her. As I looked around the audience, I noted one of the guitar players from Shotgun Alley (now incognito in an ab-covering t-shirt and with hair well combed) amongst the audience with us, perhaps taking some notes from a few seasoned professionals, both in what to do and what not to do.

A little sheepish after their gaffe, Heart headed off stage. Therein followed a tense few minutes while the stage set up was changed and I braced myself for a rush from behind of later-arriving fans who would crush the people near the stage. Most of the people in the “pit” were dutifully wearing their Def Leppard t-shirts or dressed up in 80s-esque attire; I eschewed the former but kept the faith with the latter, with my black jeans doing my bogan talking, though my green “Say No to Kryptonite” t-shirt was decidedly not in keeping with the heavy metal theme of the evening. In the end, despite a few attempts to make their way to the stage, the hordes were held at bay (though one young lass with quite lovely breasts decided to show her assets to the band and to the audience until she was asked to climb down off her boyfriend’s shoulders).

However, I encountered an audience issue from a different object when the tall, imposing physique of Dennis from Fatso (well, not really, but he reminded me of him) decided to take a step back so that he could film all of his favourite songs with his digital camera. As I had nowhere to go, I ended up with a lot less room than I had expected and the occasional long hair catching on my clothes. Dennis was a well prepared individual though: he had staked his claim and arranged with friends to come to his position from wherever they were located at the back to bring him refreshments at various stages of the evening. He also had a few packets of foam ear plus which he used and disposed of several times during the evening. I am not sure if he managed to get one of the guitar picks that were thrown out at several stages of the evening, but I am sure, had he wanted one, his imposing size and determined attitude would have meant that he would have got one.

Settled, the lights dimmed, the drums started, the guitars exploded, and out strutted Def Leppard. They have changed a bit from their 80s heyday, with Phil Collen looking a lot buffer and more waxed (he obviously wanted everyone to be impressed by his toned physique as he was shirtless the entire night), the other guitarists Vivan Campbell and Rick Savage and the drummer Rick Allen looking a little older though their hair looks almost the same, and Joe Elliot the lead singer was dressed in his sparkly silver shoes and with the buttons of his jacket all done up over his beer belly, and his hair looks much better cared for than it did back in the day. Did age, which claims us all, mean anything? Not at all.

These guys know how to rock, how to play, and how to perform. A few of the songs may be easily mistaken for others, but there was no mistaking that they played all their hits and so they know exactly what their audience wanted. Looking around, it was a pretty mixed crowd of people who encountered their music when it was first released and those who probably learned of their greatest era through their parents or much older siblings (bare chested girl included). I suppose rock as cheesily hard as this never really goes out of style, as it can always be played loud and the lyrics are angrily earnest in an easily sung along to kind of way. Rocket was I think the biggest song of the evening, and it got the whole stadium jumping up and down and screaming, and the boys went out to the end of the runway (so they had their backs to me, unfortunately) for a crowd-contributing acoustic version of Two Steps Behind. Of course, Pour Some Sugar On Me and Love Bites also hit all audience’s buttons, but then almost every song did: there was almost no song that everyone hadn’t heard and which didn’t get everyone singing along and head banging along to the beat.

The show ended (well, apart from the encore) in an eerily familiar way, with me looking at their backs (again) as they stood at the end of the runway, waving into the audience – familiar, because I am sure that is one of the photos that accompany their album material. Of course, in that photos, the T-shirts were a bit looser and grubbier, the jeans a bit more frayed and worn, the hair a bit more frazzled or actually there. Seeing them there, striking that familiar pose, it was interesting to see how far that Def Leppard have come, both in time and distance; but it was wonderful to appreciate how much that they had managed to bring with them.

Verdict: Quite a few different elements to review here: Shotgun Alley were impressive, engaging and seemed completely at ease, even if they didn’t have the polish of the later acts – 8 emos out of 10; Heart put a lot of soul into their performance, though at times not much brain and perhaps a bit of electronic assistance, though still they are class professionals and that voice – 7 barracudas out of 10; and Def Leppards cannot change their spots and continue to deliver the goods even if they mainly came to New Zealand to see the rugby – 10 photographs out of 10. So an overall rating of the show of 9 heavy metal tonnes out of 10.

The Case for Counting the Cost

2011-10-12T07:20:00.000+13:00

Okay, so I knew going in that a romantic comedy like What’s Your Number? was going to be a bit tragic. I mean, while I like Anna Faris (as studette Ally) and Chris Evans (as man-whore Colin), I could never really state with a straight face that I consider them serious dramatic actors, so while I had no doubt that they could pull off the screwball aspect that such a comedy entails, I was not going to hold it against them if the more serious (if expected) side was a bit harder to swallow.

And of course, the supporting cast is pretty impressive too. Joel Hale, of Talk Soup and the much under-rated (in NZ anyway) comedy Community, plays a bit of an ass (pardon the pun) and livens things up enormously given his brief screen time, and it is strange to see Zachary Quinto in a contemporary setting, waking up next to a young woman that he has not dismembered with his telekinetic abilities – and indeed, leaving her alive on his departure.

The story runs a lot like the John Cussak classic High Fidelity, with Faris’ leading lady trying to hunt down all her old boyfriends to find the one amongst them, though of course What’s Your Number? has nowhere near that movie’s charm, intelligence or style. Indeed, it took me about 10 minutes to adjust to what I took for college-student style cinematography and then I either became immune or things settled down as the cameraman got used to shooting the fine physiques of Faris, Evans and the other male leads.

For a supposedly risqué movie, there are quite a few safe bets shown. The circle of friends of Ally and her sister contains representatives from all of Earth’s different “races” making it very much a United Colours of Bennetton wedding party, and the way the story evolves is so predictable that one does not even really need to see the movie to know exactly what is going to happen and when. The main characters are unemployed in the poor yet with lots of money, connections and invisible-until-needed friends kind of way so friendly to telling these kinds of quest-ish love stories, and they are trendily cool and hip in a never could get an STD manner too.

Some of the things that work best are the running gag with the apparent stalking of Disgusting Donald and the “themed” flashbacks to boyfriends past; some of the worst are any emotional or drunken scene, and an odd game of strip basketball that takes a long time to go almost nowhere. And I have to say that the film could have done with a bit of temporal trimming.

But overall, I liked it. Sure, it will never win any awards for anything (and it really shouldn’t, honestly), but its likeable enough in its predictable, trying a bit too hard kind of way. It really does feel like a vehicle for Farris as she doesn’t always pull off the character that she is trying to be and I was occasionally wondering who would be better suited to the role, but then she can swear like a trooper and (no offence) pulls off being a bit of a "ho" pretty well.

Verdict: What’s Your Number? was not War and Peace, but it hit most of the (fairly low) standards I had set for it and got the audience (a lot of whom had great difficulty with the concept of allocated seating) laughing on several occasions. There was not a lot of chemistry between the leads, but there was enough to make it enjoyable, even with a final “wrap up” scene that was almost insulting in its intent and execution. An okay 6 $exual partners out of 20.

The Case for Porter-bility

2011-10-08T14:12:00.002+13:00

I am having a pretty musical seven days at the moment.

It kicked off last night when I attended a local concert of Cole Porter songs. Fish was performing in it*, meaning there was that extra reason to attend, and it was great, though I was decidedly on the younger spectrum of the attending demographic. There was a golden mirrorball of a hypnotising dress, shoeless conducting, and a tribute to France, but the thing that struck me the most was how I could relate almost every song to the Muppets in one way or another - in particular, Wayne and Wanda.

Of course, other songs from the Porter back catalogue I associate with other, more cinematic outings. [Unfortunately, I can't embed the classic Tank Girl version of Let's Do It, so click the link to see it]

Sure, a lot of his songs are pretty sappy, and sometimes their "smartness" begins to grate my cheese after a little while, but they are almost all pretty catchy and mostly quite a bit of fun to boot. Some of course are a bit more saucy, and I was a little disappointed when the glittery-dress woman failed to capitalise on her rather... slinky outfit to attempt Love for Sale.

Verdict: I definitely get a kick out of a lot of Cole Porter songs, and it was a great night all around. 7 bees doing it out of 10.

* she was the gorgeous babe with the flower in her hair

And the next agenda on the musical calendar? A big change of pace with the Def Leppard:

<br>*

The Case for Blood Curdling Cries

2011-10-01T08:29:00.000+13:00

A few weeks ago, Off Black posted about the hakae that are all the rage at the Rugby World Cup these days.

The All Blacks may have started the whole "dance and intimidate" thing on the rugby pitch, but these days, other Pacific Island nations have their own versions, some of them a bit more motional than the traditional All Black one. This may be why the New Zealand team now has the new throat-slitting version, as the spectacle stakes continue to escalate and where only the most active pre-game warm up can survive (well, probably not). Perhaps the American team will adopt a whole Bring It On cheerleader style routine before their matches to join in the not-game fun, though I doubt those kind of antics will really throw the opposition off much - not that a haka probably does that either; and at least a haka doesn't completely exhaust the players beforehand.

But the Americans don't really need their own pre-match signature dance. Because, in the international war song sweepstakes, the American Eagles have one of the most inspirational threats around.

Sure, if you sing it slowly, degenerate it into a warble-strewn ego-driven travesty, or leave it to someone like Roseanne Barr to interpret in their own style, the Star Spangled Banner can end up sounding like a funeral dirge or something that one invites the throwing of tomatoes. But done well, with hand on heart flag waving (a difficult manoeuvre to be sure, but years of Twister practice can help) and a small pin attached to one's lapel, there is nothing quite like it. It's a call to arms, a call to war, to defend and to attack. And it does get the blood flowing.

But (and I must admit to a lot of personal prejudice in this case), more rousing than the American national anthem, drowning out the haka of nations with the brute force of voices raised in song, a motionless emotional invitation to quake, you can't really go past the French national anthem, La Mareillaise.

The lyrics themselves are... something else.

Of course, in a multi-lingual sense, haka make a lot more impact in that they get the message across without the need to understand what anyone is actually saying. Yelling (or singing) at people really loudly is pretty standard in any culture, especially for anyone who has ever gone out on a Friday or Saturday night, so a loud song that is belted out by anything less than a choir is something that, by itself, most people can just ignore. However, slapping thighs, poking out tongues, fist pumps and punches - these grab the attention no matter how few people are involved, and, en masse, it is definitely a sight to behold.

So, in the absence of a national anthem designed to intimidate all opposition (calling upon a deity to intervene in defence of a country is not a great rallying cry for resistance and/or conquest), its great to think that New Zealand (and other nations) have haka that can bring a fire to the belly that respectful singing of God Defend New Zealand cannot.

Of course, not all calls to arms need to last minutes or involve coordinated movement. The Australians may like to advance fairly, but there is nothing quite like a few short and sharp rounds of "Aussie! Aussie! Aussie! Oi! Oi! Oi!" to get them motivated.

Verdict: It may all be a game, but national pride is a serious business. Whether it is overused or underaggressive or not always treated with the respect it deserves, the haka is (or are?) a way to show opponents that Kiwis mean business. But lets not forget that other countries let their anthems do the talking, or intimidating, and have been doing so for centuries. In the end, a song and/or a dance won't win the war, but it will make a pretty interesting spectacle. 4 cups* for all the anthems and haka at the Rugby World Cup out of 5.

* minus one, as I have yet to hear the Aussie chant.

The Case for some Home Help

2011-09-29T19:32:00.000+13:00

When I read the Help a few months ago, I was pleasantly surprised. The book was written from the perspectives of several women from Jackson, Mississippi set against the backdrop of the American Civil Rights movement, when talking about racial inequalities in a "separate yet equal" society could lead to violent repercussions.

So when I saw that (perhaps unsurprisingly) a movie version had been made, starring the always incredible Emma Stone and featuring such luminous legends as Sissy Spacek, Allison Janney and the hypnotically intense powerhouse that is Viola Davis, I felt the need to go see it.

Two hallmarks of a film as "worthy" as this are that the characters have to be (pardon the pun) pretty black and white morally and that length is seen as a virtue. At around two and a half hours, I knew going in that as much of the book would be crammed in as possible. Yet I was still a bit surprised to see some of the alterations to the story, especially in relation to Skeeter (Stone) and the story of her housemaid. Luckily, the story of Aibileen is kept pretty much as in the book, and Davis portrays the house maid as a woman of solid dignity despite the humiliations she is forced to endure.

Unfortunately, the movie aims to recreate scenes from the book rather than imbuing any characters with actual life - well, besides the ones the talented cast brings with them. Dallas Bryce Howard obviously relishes her role as Queen B!tch Hilly, and the aforementioned actresses all do amazing work to bring some depth to what are fairly stereotyped characters. In the book, the characters were a little greyer (not a huge amount, to be sure), but those blemishes are completely bleached out for the big screen, probably to make it even easier to know who the goodies and the baddies are meant to be. Skeeter's budding romance is almost pointless (as are all the male characters, really) and the other friends in the Hilly/Skeeter circle are merely beehive hairdos in the 1960s background.

Removing any development of actual relationships between the characters makes it easier to tell the events, but they are (as mentioned) robbed of a lot of emotion - well, unless you are the hyper talkative, overly emotional (to my way of thinking) women sitting besides me who found every stubbed toe and grazed knee a scene of profound sorrow worthy of loud lamentation and self flagellation.

In a way, it is kind of a teenage high school film, almost a Bring It On without the pompoms, or Heathers with fewer homicides (less humour, less style, less resonance... and a lacking a lot of other things too - I love Heathers). There is the in crowd and the out crowd, with Hilly the super cow who leads the popular girls, and Skeeter the fringe-dwelling (yet cool) rebellious one who reaches out to the less popular/less well off ones (Aibileen) and bring them into their own.

There are a few other story threads in there as well, but they work a bit better in the book where they are given a bit more room to grow. So really, there is nothing new on celluloid in The Help. But even with that lack of inspiration, the casting of this film is absolutely incredible, and that alone makes the admission price worthwhile.

Verdict: The Help takes a good book and makes an uninspired film. The saving grace is the cast, milking every stereotype for what its worth, and lighting up the screen with amazing individual performances with only the dark voids in between them to show how flat the story really is. 6 housemaids tales out of 10.

The Case for the Other World Cup

2011-09-25T08:57:00.000+13:00

[An article I'd like to see]

Auckland: Enthusiastic crowds were disappointed last night by the All Black performance last night, as the New Zealand team beat the French convincingly but with a distinct lack of wardrobe malfunctions.

Adidas, supplier of the All Black jersey to the team, have launched into an official enquiry at their Advanced Apparel Research Unit (AAARU) in China, trying to track down the reason why none of their skin-tight tops disintegrated under the harsh lights of the rugby stadium or under the physical stress of the game itself.

"At least one shirt per match is designed to encounter major structural integrity issues, necessitating a mid-match change into a shirt even tighter than the one previously worn", said Lolo Ferari, head of Sports and Strippers Clothing Development (ASSCD). "With his impressive physique and loyal female following, Sonny Bill Williams was chosen the first All Black to be provided with a rippable shirt, and it failed precisely as and when anticipated."

"The New Zealand game against France was the 100th All Blacks game for the team captain, Richie McCaw, and he also has a large female following. So we had planned to supply him with a shirt riddled with structural problems that would disintegrate around half time. However, on the night, it failed to function - or misfunction, as the case may be."

Die hard Richie McCaw fan, Shirley DaLoon, was devastated by the game.

"After Sonny Bill Williams' shirtless moment, I knew that Adidas would supply those shirts to other members of the team too. I'm sure Dan Carter's will fail at the final, but I was really hoping Richie's would rip on his 100th cap."

Ms DaLoon has not given up hope. "I have bought tickets to every All Blacks game, and I will be prowling town after every match to see if I can track down Richie. Perhaps he'll have to change his shirt in the semi-finals."

Adidas' AARU have reassured the company and the broadcasters of the Rugby World Cup games that more All Blacks will be forced to undress on the field during their matches.

"New Zealand Woman's Monthly sales quadrupled on the back of Sonny Bill Williams' front," said Mr Ferari, "and CLOUD coverage was picked up by every major news network and shown throughout the world. And the whole stripping incident has become a YouTube sensation. Needless to say, despite the fact that the failure indicated that our clothes are crap, Adidas stocks have also soared."

The head of Nike Top Research and Development has been forced to resign when her company's own jersey flaws only resulted in the numbers on the back of the shirts falling off.

Verdict: I am actually quite enjoying watching the Rugby World Cup games at the moment, as long as I can avoid all the marketing and nauseating media coverage outside of the games themselves. While the hype and hooplah surrounding the Rugby Union has developed from what it was 20 years ago in a way that only seems to cheapen the brand even as it popularises it, even I can't deny that the games themselves are exciting to watch. And sometimes, there is a half time stripper as well. Now that is catering to every audience. 14 a side out of 15.

__________________________

Oh, and something a bit retro: I always loved this Ren and Stimpy clip, though whoever was holding the camera when they copied this should really have just put the thing down:

The Case for a Couple of Wins

2011-09-21T20:16:00.002+12:00

You know, after a string of documentaries, superhero flicks, and intense dramae, I had almost forgot what pleasure a straight forward, low key film can provide.

I am not quite sure what I was expecting from Win Win, starring the hang dog face of lovable quasi loser Paul Giamatti, but what I got was a film that made me smile and kept me entertained despite the chronic plastic bag rustling of the near moronic duo seated behind me. It was evident from the fairly small crowd at the cinema that this film was fairly low down on most people’s list of films to see, and I can’t say that it would really appeal to a lot of audiences, but I was in just the right mood to lap it all up.

The story is fairly straight forward: struggling guy takes in a wayward youth who turns out to have a talent in one area of the man’s life (in this case, High School wrestling; strange sport that) through which the youth transforms the life of both the man and his family. Yeah, nothing much new under that sun, though New Providence comes across as perhaps one of the coldest places on earth (Wellington rarely looks it, though it definitely feels it) and it is refreshing to see actual teenagers playing teenagers as opposed to 20 somethings with perfect physiques and blemish-free facial features.

And at this point I have to address a comment I made earlier: I called Giamatti’s character, Mike, a quasi loser, and that is probably the intent but not really the reality. Mike, whose law practice is failing, true, has an amazing wife in the freckled face of the awesome Amy Ryan, two gorgeous children, an amazing home, and friends who are slightly unhinged and provide the oddball comic relief, but are still loyal and lovely people if somewhat disturbingly obsessed with teenage boys in sweaty unitards. Seeing a family so ordinary, with people so human, not dealing with extreme evil or struggling with deep psychological trauma but still turning out as interesting characters, was, for me at least, quite a breath of fresh air. And again, I can’t recall the last time I saw teenagers shown as monosyllabic gawky people, intelligent but only occasionally making eye contact and even then only to stare daggers. And of course, Melanie Lynskey is in there too, albeit briefly, and she is always a welcome sight in anything.

The film runs to two hours, which is really pretty long considering the subject matter, but it didn’t seem to drag. The pace is definitely not fast, but all the cast make the film a very easy watch. There’s the odd laugh, the well-signposted twists, and lots of people looking very, very cold. And for all that, I liked it.

Verdict: Win Win won me over from my initial scepticism. It feels odd to say there was nothing stand out about the film except the fact that it was an ordinary family in an ordinary family very well rendered. In the end, despite any economic hardships and some dubious friends (I was half expecting someone to say giggidy giggidy somewhere along the way), I couldn’t help but feel that Paul Giamatti’s character was a very rich man indeed. 7 reverse choke holds out of 10.

The Case for the Wood for the Trees

2011-09-17T16:32:00.000+12:00

I went in to Tree of Life knowing that I was in for something a bit challenging. When you see reviewers who say that they needed to see the film twice (at least) to get their head around it, it’s a pretty good sign that the film is not going to unwind in a straightforward manner. And, it has to be said, those warnings (numerous as they were) served me well when I finally came to watch it.

For me, there are three different parts to the film: the deep part, the family part and the woozy drunken part. I don’t want to ruin the film for anyone going in to see it, but I will try and explain things in a way that I hope won’t give too much away – though a lot of the joy of the film lies in things that need to be seen to really experience.

So, first, the deep part. For no real reason I could see, a huge swathe of the film has to do with the creation of the universe and, as such, is a pro-evolutionary piece of Darwinian propaganda. Running over this slowly unfolding tale of fantasy (creationists, be warned) are the odd utterances from the main characters in the film, trying to make sense of it (and “it” being life) all. The visuals are simply stunning, though they do take what feels like a few Ice Ages (do creationists believe in those?) to pass across the screen.

Eventually, we settle into the life of a fairly ordinary American family in the 1950s (or 1960s; possibly both; possibly neither). This is not a happy family, for reasons I won’t really go into, but the different philosophies that are introduced at the beginning of the film are played out here, exploring their strengths and their weaknesses. And this part was definitely my favourite of the film. It’s filmed in a challenging (again that word) way, but I think that years of “deep and meaningful” and deliberately obscure anime television series had prepared me for the confusing jumble of beautiful yet almost unexplained images and quasi-cryptic utterances. There are scenes that appear to make no sense that probably are completely integral to the plot in the writer/director’s mind (though the attic scenes seemed taken from the mind of David Lynch), and one could never accuse the story of cutting corners – once the enchanting early childhood life is shown, things slow to a glacial, if still fascinating pace.

Finally (though it actually occurs throughout the film) is the woozy drunken part. Sean Penn has no difficulty making this section feel like some sort of drug-addled jumble of images and places mixed in with an odd sort of presumed profundity. While this part is meant to anchor the film to the now, it is also (for me) the most confusing part and, in the final few scenes, also the most boring.

Throughout though the film is beautifully shot, classical music permeating every scene as it tries to out-space odyssey Kubrik, and the languid pace gave me the chance to appreciate it all, though that same slowness also allowed me to get bored now and then.

So, yes, the Tree of Life really is challenging, one member of our audience so challenged that, uninspired by the ballet of cosmic creation (or possibly mif aed by its Biblical inaccuracy), he left after half an hour never to return. As the lights came up, everyone seemed to be in a bit of a daze, everyone apparently affected (whether emotionally or in a soporific sense, I couldn’t be sure), but no one really discussing what they had seen.

It probably does require a bit of reflection and, as aforementioned, a second viewing would probably help see the wood (of the storyline) of the trees (of how it is all put together), but I don’t think I will be rushing back to see it again. It was good, and some scenes had incredible power to them in their ordinariness and their trying to make sense of the world and the universe. Visually and musically, the film is amazing, and the acting (Brad Pitt as ordinary Father) is mesmerising. But it is a lot confusing and really very slow.

Verdict: Tree of Life is a long and (here’s the word again) challenging piece of cinema. With the chance to fast forward scenes, I think I would have missed a lot of the beauty and the nuance of this film, but I probably would also have skipped a lot of the tedium too. Tree of Life was definite worthwhile, but just as definitely not for everyone. 7 branches out of 10.

The Case for Hanna Barbaric

2011-09-15T20:31:00.000+12:00

I was not altogether convinced by the previews of Hanna that it would be a film for me. A movie along the times of "innocent looking young girl is actually genetically enhanced killing machine" has been done many times, and I have to say that the actress playing the aforementioned Hanna, Saoirse Ronan, is not one of my favourites. But then Kate Rodger gave it a thumbs up (more the pounding Chemical Brothers score than for anything else, perhaps) and with Eric Bana as Mr Miyagi, Cate Blanchett as another in her Accent of Evil rogues gallery, and the always wonderful Olivia Williams popping up as well ("Hi Adele!"), there were some definite reasons to go.

And I have to say that, overall, I was impressed. There was really nothing new whatsoever in the film itself, with a fairly typical cross country chase by people who adamantly refuse to use ranged weapons, and the ending was pretty weak, but the way it was done was really impressive. The amazing soundtrack definitely added a huge amount to proceedings, and the fact that most of the action happened in smaller, more "realistic" dwellings than usual leant a more British feel to the film, as opposed to more opulent lifestyle of the Americans.

It was interesting to compare how Hanna turned out to the dire trailer for Abducted that preceded the feature film. Abducted seems all upper middle class houses, vehicles and motorbikes, everything clean and shiny compared with the worn grime of Hanna, but then it was obvious that Abducted is a star vehicle for Taylor Lautner, showing casing his many talents (martial arts and action) and limits (I doubt he will win an award for acting any time soon). Should the movie really be as dire as it looked, I am sure the film makers will exploit some of Lautner's more well-known attributes, turning the film more into Abs-ducted, but I digress.

I have already mentioned, while the supporting cast is something of a dream thesp collection of mine, I am not a big fan of Saoirse Ronan as she always seem to be permanently squinting, but her odd (and almost alienating, as opposed to quirky) etherealness kind of works in this film as Hanna is meant to be a bit strange. Less strange but more irritating is the girl who befriends her, who is I am sure meant to be a comic relief character but ends up, in her very "there are probably tonnes of young girls this irritating" kind of way, to transform almost every scene in which she is allowed to speak from the tense action drama of Hanna to something closer to Sisterhood of the Whinging Travelling British Pants.

But, despite these minor niggles, I was pretty engrossed for most of the film, with only a few moments of dullness making me realised that the film was stretching towards a two hour running time. Hanna really was a whole load of absolute malarkey, but it ended up quite a bit of fun, and with a soundtrack that I am sure for which many action flicks would die at the hands of a genetically modified super soldier.

Verdict: Hanna exceeded my low expectations and proved to be a stylish take on a very well worn genre. While tense and occasionally violent, the most disturbing shots were of Cate Blanchett's character's dental hygiene regime, but then all the (adult) support cast was superb. 7 CIA underground complexes in Morocco out of 10.

The Case for Being Senna Cool

2011-09-14T18:37:00.000+12:00

I remember way back in the 1980s that Formula One racing was an o for awesome. The names were familiar to me, the breakneck speeds exciting, and cigarette advertising dominated. Then, in my ageing world, the 1990s came about, and tennis became the more popular sport. Motor sport faded as the stars of tennis came out of from behind the exhaust fume clouds.

One of the names I remember from the motorsport era was Ayerton Senna, though I never really knew that much about him. The documentary about his Formula One career, Senna, relieved me of that ignorance.

As much as I admired the speed and skills, I never really appreciated the egos and the politics that went on at the time. Senna opened up a whole world every bit as cut-throat and competitive and professional as modern day Rugby Union, with calls of cheating and bending of rules, personalities clashing, and new technologies arriving and departing.

And the man himself was undeniably charismatic. A good looking yet fairly humble man, born to privilege but with a social conscience, the Senna documentary focused on his racing life, how his incredible faith pushed him to becoming one of the greatest drivers ever (though some criticised his overwhelming faith, thinking it made him reckless as he left his fate in God's hands) and how proud he was of his home country of Brazil, a pride that Brazilians themselves reflected back in one of their most famous sons. Less explored were his playboy lifestyle (though we got to see some his blonde conquests) and his "growing up" origins, but I liked that these were covered only briefly, as the main story was elsewhere.

Senna has no narrator, no talking heads and no modern footage. The words of the man himself are used to drive a large proportion of the narrative. Comments from friends and family describe images taken from the time, and the cockpit camera scenes, when shown on the big screen, are completely engrossing and, on occasion, terrifying.

The film is obviously shot from Senna's point of view. His colleague and nemesis, Alain Prost, makes a wonderful French villain even if he does not have a twirly moustache. Calculating and arrogant, Prost apparently does everything to ensure his superiority over the younger up and coming Senna, and while they never really clash directly, the body language and politics off the circuit are more vicious than anything seen on that other 80s institution, Dallas.

The movie ends as we know it must. I had a growing knot in the stomach as I watched Senna's final race from his cockpit camera's perspective. What I didn't quite understand is why the various crashes and even a fatality that occurred on the same circuit earlier did not get the whole race cancelled: there was evidently something wrong with the cars (stripped of traction control and other recent automotive innovations) and/or the circuit that year, but it seemed everyone thought it would be all right on the day.

But this is not a movie that tries to assign blame. It just presents what was, albeit from Senna's perspective. And what an interesting and occasionally inspirational life it was too.

Verdict: Senna is an amazing film that deserves all the praise and recognition I had heard about it. Touching, thrilling, straight forward and letting the story tell the story, it was a brilliantly conceived and executed film that I can recommended to anyone - not always something that can be said about documentaries. 9500 rpms out of 10000.

The Case for Popular 90s Travesties

2011-09-10T09:04:00.003+12:00

Rolling Stone has released its (or its readers) list of the worst song of the 90s .

When I forwarded the link, I got a few surprised responses back:

* Where is the Mr Blobby song? (That one I think can be explained as this is an American list)

* Where is the Lemon Tree song? (No idea about that one - I never really liked it, though it is relatively harmless)
* Why no Celine Dion? (Possibly the song was fine, it was the Singer Sans Soul who is the real reason for revulsion)
* Where are the S-Club 7 entries? (I think that's another Brit thing)
* And what about B*witched's C'est la Vie (... I have drawn a blank, as I have no idea why that didn't make the list)

But really, there are so many songs from that era (or any era really) that, on reflection (or even at the time) are fairly horrendous. Perhaps, like songs from the 80s, future generations will look back with a sense of nostalgia for the egocentric lyrics of Vanilla Ice or the Nordic moronic-ness of Aqua. And, to be honest, while I can appreciate their crapness, the more vapid the song (with no pretence of actual emotional depth), the easier I find it to enjoy the songs deemed to be awful.

For me, a song truly becomes awful when there it is meant to be deep and meaningful - and when it so obviously and painfully fails. One person mentioned Mr Big's To Be With You (very early 90s). One song that drives me bonkers in this way of recent years is One Republic's Apologize. The song is pretty overwrought, and why oh why in the video does it look like the lead vocalist is being tortured when the actual singing sounds almost restrained while in the background everyone else in the band looks bored to be there?

And what about that other 90s wail fest, Toni Braxton's Unbreak My Heart? Do you know how hard it is to explain what "unbreak" means to people who don't speak English?

I am stumped why some of the Big Movie "wail" songs did not make the list. Bryan Adam's (Everything I Do) I Do It For You must surely have been played at enough weddings so that even those who may have liked it would have joined those who only appreciate the movie for Alan Rickman's Christmas-cancelling performance. And back to Ms Dion, are there really redeeming qualities whatsoever in My Heart Will Go On (I could not actually bring myself to watch more than a few seconds of the video below due to its incredible pomposity - and that was with the song itself on mute)?

Of course, thinking songs are rubbish is easy, because there for every person that hates a song, another will step up to defend it (though perhaps not that hard). And isn't diversity of opinion wonderful, even if the music sometimes is not?

Verdict: Well, this is my courtroom, and so things play by my rules. I like what I like, though I will admit when what I like is (by some standards) complete nonsense. But then, like some things, like Rugby (I had to mention it), should never be taken too seriously. As to the Rolling Stone list, 6 Macarenas out of 10.

The Case for Fire Play

2011-09-07T20:06:00.001+12:00

I had heard really good things about the Canadian film Incendies, and (to cut to the chase) the film definitely lived up to that hype.

Sure, my knowledge of French was sorely taxed by some of the quicker Quebecois utterances, and my knowledge of Arabic is non existent, but the subtitles were clear and the dialogue slow enough to allow plenty of time for the slower readers amongst us to be able to grasp what was said as well as enjoying the beautiful cinematography on display.

Being a foreign language film, the session I saw at the Lighthouse in Petone was on the deserted side, with those of the blue-rinse set who did attend having some very loud conversations along the way. I could understand their need to do so: the film jumps all over the place in time and space, and while the film is incredibly good at taking the audience with it on this time-hopping journey without the need for "time and place stamps" at every shift, there are still moments that take a while to adjust to. That, plus the fact that there is no real explanation about the motivations and developments in the conflict in the Middle Eastern country (I assumed it was Lebanon due to the Christian/Muslim clashes) in which most of the film is set, means there were a few things that the more ignorant amongst us (myself included) were wanting to find out.

So, what makes the film so awesome? As mentioned, it is amazingly put together. There are no big, fancy special effects; there are just large, blood red letters that overpower the screen the tell us where we are and then, in the different time frames, the stories that take place in those locales unfold.

The story is that of Nawal, who left her Middle Eastern home to raise her twins in Canada. The twins, on her death, realise that they know nothing about their mother's origins. Incendies then is their voyage of discovery - and a harrowing one it is, to be sure.

Religious intolerance, family pride, war, torture, politics. there are a lot of things that shape Nawal's life and shock the viewer. The Middle East itself, even when awash with blood or the smoke of burned out buildings, is beautifully stark, from the rock-strewn countryside to the crumbling beige towns. Oddly, it is the shots of Canada that look less welcoming, the usual images of Mounties and beautiful pristine nature ignored in favour of pot-holed streets and drab inner city apartments. It is hard to believe a film so cinematic ever started life as a play.

The performances of the actors as well are absolutely incredible, if occasionally incomprehensible (the Canadians speak clearer French when they head to the Middle East, thankfully). While the aging process for some of the main actors involves makeup that would not go amiss in a Bride of Frankenstein flick, nothing can hide the passion with which they deliver their performance, even if most of that passion is of the depressing variety.

About the only thing I found hard to process with this film was one of the revelations, as I was struggling to do the math as to how this all could have come about, the lack of "signposting" of dates and locations, while awesome in one way, adding to my confusion at this point. I will say no more about it, should anyone wish to see this film.

Verdict: Incendies was an amazing movie. Definitely not a film for everyone, considering its pretty traumatic subject matter coupled with its subtitled nature, but it is a well crafted, multi-cultural and powerful film that Canada/Quebec seems so incredibly capable of doing. The ending left me a little unsatisfied (having to do math tends to do that to me), but overall, I was really glad I made the effort to see it. 9 cups of tea out of 10.

The Case for the Cuppy Countdown 2011

2011-09-03T08:15:00.003+12:00

Nearly there.

So, Rugby World Cup 2011.

It has been an unbelievably long time coming, and my cupboards are now overflowing with Powerade, Rexona Antipersperant, Up and Go and Daikin heatpumps - well, they would be if I didn't more or less record everything and just skip through the ads. I have tickets for a grand total of none of the games, though I may watch one or two somewhere along the line. I do drink a heck of a lot of Coca Cola though.

All the jingoistic playing on patriotism around the Rugby World Cup 2011 has made me feel rather anti, so on my crusade, I decided to look through the supporters jerseys that the various supermarkets had stocked to find a cocky French top. After the first supermarket failed to have one, I thought perhaps it had sold out. By about the third unsuccessful attempt, I was suspecting conspiracy. Now, I reckon it is one. Unless the French team is just ridiculously popular, which may be the case.

I have never really considered buying an All Black one, though it pays to look like a player to wear them these days:

So far, everything seems to be running as expected:

This event will run at a loss, and the New Zealand taxpayer will pick up the bill. The size of the loss will be unknown until the loss is all lost, but it may be exponentially more than the first dart that hit the cost board indicated, if not logarithmically.
The major sponsors have proved to be complete draculian (saw that on a blog once, and thought it was such an apt term) d!cks, adidas foremost amongst them for the whole rugby jersey debacle (though apparently it hasn't stop people buying the jersey, just other labelled items) The completely-unfunny-even-in-the-abstract Telecom celibacy campaign met a premature death, and now, as reported by other bloggers, unsanctioned sponsorship is being surgically removed from strategic points.
Sonny Bill Williams has shown that his loyalty is to his family and their well being, meaning it is to his wallet and his fighting and what he wants to do, meaning it is not to New Zealand rugby. Who would have guessed that donning the All Black jersey and playing in a World Cup was just a stepping stone to other things? Well, EVERYBODY! Well, obviously not everybody, judging by the fan reaction. But honestly...

The only real unknown is who will win the actual competition. A few game-losing jitters over the last few weeks on the part of the All Blacks has caused a bit of concern, but they are still the odds-on favourites.

For my part... well, truth be told, part of me wants to say I don't want them to win (go France!), part of me want them to be victorious, while over those parts is a layer of not really caring. I may have to go into all those conflicted opinions in a later blog, once the competition is underway.

But I do have to ask: is Rugby going to be the winner on the day? With all the shinanegans and goings on, the overwhelming advertising and the distancing of the team from the people, is Rugby actually going to be better viewed than it was beforehand? I suppose that will depend on who wins or not.

Verdict: It's almost here, which means the anticipation is almost over, and soon, so will all the hype. Blessings all around, no matter what you think of the rugby. 8 days out of a week and a bit to go.

The Case for Movie Greatness

2011-08-31T19:49:00.000+12:00

POM Wonderful Presents: The Greatest Movie Ever Sold is a really long title. But the film is all about being big, bold and making a name for oneself - in particular, a name that attracts sponsorship.

You may know Morgan Spurlock from other documentaries like Supersize Me. He's a very aimiable man, brimming with confidence and a sense of the absurd, and not averse to making a bit of a dick of himself. Which helps in this movie, as he is both selling himself out and staying true to himself by investigating how people can sell themselves out. POM Wonderful, Mini Cooper, a restaurant and pizza chain, a brand of shoe and an airline all come on board - eventually - to assist in making the movie about getting sponsors on board.

Of course, part of the movie is looking at how sponsors can influence product that they have been brought in to support. This is all pretty obvious stuff - product placement can be incredibly obvious, though Spurlock showed me how it can actually be even more prevalent than I thought.

I won't dwell on this film. POM Wonderful Presents: The Greatest Movie Ever Sold is everything it says on the cover, and not really that surprising. Trusty doomsayers like Noam Chomsky and Ralph Nader are wheeled out to provide their two cents, but there is no real confrontation of "sell outs" to see what they think of having sold their souls to the advertising devils. I laughed, I loved the horse/human shampoo, and I have had a craving for POM's pomegranate juice ever since.

Verdict: There's not much I can say about POM Wonderful Presents: The Greatest Movie Ever Sold. It's an entertaining movie, and enjoyable enough, but already dimming in my memory, even if the desire to imbibe a certain antioxidant-rich fruit juice. 7 Hyatt hotels out of 10.

The Case for Cinematic Beginnings

2011-08-27T07:32:00.001+12:00

You may have noticed, this blog is devoted ostensibly to films.

I see a lot of them. Really. And, as I wrote the last entry, something struck me recently upon which I have not really dwelled.

As you know, before each film comes the little “promo” sequence for the company or companies who have made this triumph/travesty possible.

As the Family Guy pointed out, some of these intros are pretty impressive and some of them are spectacularly long, sometimes taking on the appearance of a mini film themselves:

I have previously mentioned that I like the Relativity Media one for fairly obvious reasons:

And the Universal intro is pretty cool, especially when it is “mixed up” for the movie that follows:

The Fox (nee 20th Century Fox) introduction is a classic, though for me it will always be associated with Star Wars, except for the campy version which precedes The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

Paramount’s is a bit dull, as is the one for United Artists, but they’re inoffensive rather than irritating. I do like the Warner’s “resting on Casablanca’s laurels” version, though it is not overly inspirational either:

Now for some brickbats.

I am not sure if it is part of a “big evil corporation” feeling I have about the company, but the CGI Disney introduction is one of my least appreciated. I always notice that the door seems to be part of a moat these days (perhaps reflective of the impregnable, unassailable Disney empire?) and for some reason this really annoys me. Oddly enough, I don’t find the simplified Pixar version of same quite as disagreeable. Odd.

But, to round off the “ughs”, I can’t really go past the Dimension Films one; I mean, well, its just pretty dull really. How many Dimensions is that again? Ah well.

Verdict: The production company credits definitely do not make or break a film, but they are fun to judge nonetheless. If you have your own favourites or pet hates, let me know. 8 credits out of 10.

The Case for Western Aliens

2011-08-24T20:33:00.001+12:00

I wonder if they alternate the opening "studio" credits for Cowboys and Aliens? I personally quite like the Relativity Media titles, which were not shown, though we still got the silent Paramount stars, the fishing Dreamworker and, my favourite, the fantastic opening fanfare of the Universal Pictures introduction which always makes me feel totally ready to invade the puny planet around which the logo orbits like a protective equatorial shield.

The number of contributing companies to this movie is perhaps a little bit of a warning: were the movie houses so unsure of this film that not one of them was keen to fund the whole thing by themselves? Or is it an indication that the Special Effects budget was too big for just one of them to handle?

Whatever the reason, the combined power of all these studios means that Cowboys and Aliens enjoys a huge budget and suffers from a story designed by a cliché committee.

I could not fault the pick of leads that such a budget allowed, with Daniel Craig his regular stonily stoic self, battered and beaten at every opportunity, and with Harrison Ford all gruff charm. The rest of the cast kind of fade into their clichéd characters (even Sam Rockwell), looking pretty in a dirty way and contributing little besides being the living cardboard upon which their cartoonish characters are drawn.

While the plot may have been drawn in crayon (colourful but childlike), when things happen, it all gets very exciting. Aliens are always good villains (unstoppable until they are. stopped), and as Craig is a bit of a masochist, the hero gets bloodied in several fairly physical encounters.

But the faults in the movie are more apparent when things slow down, because it all gets frightfully boring. Besides Craig and Ford, I was pretty okay with all the humans dying and was in fact a bit disappointed when a few of them were still alive. There are attempts at manly bonding and inspirational speeches and I think something approaching humour, but it all falls pretty flat and unfortunately stays lying there for far too long.

The film runs to two hours but it feels so much longer. I got bored with the number of times the main posse would set off riding, encounter a group (human or alien), have some sort of altercation, and then head off riding again just to run into another group (human or alien) for the next altercation. And so on. And, at the end, while the final climactic showdown is pretty explosive stuff, quite why tides and turned and what tactics work make little (to no) sense.

But I knew that Cowboys and Aliens would be dumb going in, thanks to TV3's Kate Rodger. I listened, but I ignored. And, despite the stupidity, I have to say I came out having enjoyed it more than having been annoyed by it. A minor victory, but a victory nonetheless.

Verdict: Cowboys and Aliens looks and feels expensive, and is all style over substance. It's always great to see Harrison Ford all swash buckley, but there is far too much risible "serious" stuff in what really should be good old fashion hokum. 5 scalps out of 10.

The Case for Some More Odd Photos - Mid 2011 Edition

2011-08-21T09:04:00.000+12:00

Some of the odder images of what I saw in my recent trip to Cambodia:

1) Never had I seen so much boob enhancing cream. Never had I even suspected it existed.

2) There was just something so WRONG about the look of this cereal

3) You could jet around town in a batmobile...

4) Who wouldn't want to belong to this bank? Well, possibly those who do not like tomatoes...

5) The Sibling Band. The name is definitely descriptive.

6) I may have misunderstood this. I mean, it is mis-spelled. But did I really?

7) What everybody wants - a Bieber cut.

8) Anti Hair Fall Shampoo? Jackie, I should have listened to you a whole lot sooner!

9) Not an odd photo at all - just lots of chocolate!

10) Another in my ongoing "odd mannequin" collections.

11) There used to be a Hungry Kiwi Pizza brand in NZ - could this be related?

12) And finally - what is the asterisk for? Does fun come with conditions?

Verdict: Oh, how I love travel! I find the oddest things highly entertaining - and with the age of the digital camera, snapping said images to share with others has never been easier! 9 snaps out of 10.

The Case for Avenging First

2011-08-17T20:27:00.000+12:00

Become the best you can be, and the best in the world, by the injection of chemicals directly into your body! While that seems to be the motto of Olympians, Tour de France cyclists and bodybuilders these days, the original patriot to take the chemical advantage for God and country was good old boy, Captain America.

The morality of how Captain America: The First Avenger gains his superpowers is never really mentioned (well, they wouldn’t have back in WWII either, I am sure), but his qualities as a true blue, fair dinkum, all American boy just wanting to do the right thing are well established in his first film, even while the whole film is structured as a lead in for the super cadre film, Avengers, due next year.

Chris Evans takes the whole thing very seriously, looking very blond and buff in the part and playing everything incredibly straight. It’s therefore left to Tommy Lee Jones to liven up proceedings, cracking the (successful) jokes and at least looking like he is having a bit of fun. Hugo Weaving is very good at playing bad, and as the Red Skull gets to add a German accent to his nationalities of evil, though he is evil with a capital E and so does very dastardly stuff and has a master plan to destroy the world (starting with the USA of course), all in a pretty formulaic way. And Hayley Atwell as the love interest does a great Kate Beckinsdale impression, all prim and proper Britishness with a twist of potential naughtiness.

From the above, you probably can guess I was a little underwhelmed by the film. The film is over two hours long, and feels it, dragging in parts of the beginning and the middle, and even a little bit at the end. The magnificent war machines are wonderfully mad, but the morphing and action CGI that go on around Chris Evans are, if not always bad, then unfortunately obvious, and the most vim and vigour seems to have been invested in an interminable patriotic investors’ rally.

For all that, the film is not bad. It hovers around a Green Lantern level on the recent superhero movie releases, and it is miles better than the attempt at a Captain America movie from last century. There are lots of explosions and ticks all the cliché boxes, including a brief appearance by Stan Lee.

But again it feels a bit perfunctory, made just to provide the origin story of the good Captain before the Avengers are assembled. The preview for the Avengers movie which followed Captain America: the First Avenger film definitely looked appetising, though I think the appearance of Robert Downey Junior had a lot to do with that.

As for Captain America: the First Avenger, a few people behind me found it the greatest movie ever (by their reaction) though their delayed excitement may just have been a sign that they had thawed after being amongst the few people to go to Readings in the snowy weather (I don’t think I have ever seen the food court so empty on a Tuesday). For me and my companions though, we all agreed that it was good, not great. But I was glad I saw it.

Verdict: Captain America: the First Avenger was a passable movie, with heaps of action though none of it terribly convincing, and a bit of humour very sparingly sprinkled. It will be interesting to see what the combination of this, Thor and Iron Man turns into. For now though, Captain America: the First Avenger is... okay. 6.5 American Flags out of 10.

The Case for Movies in Miniature

2011-08-15T20:39:00.001+12:00

I wasn’t able to see many of the International Film Festival films this year due to a scheduling conflict. But I was able to make it to one. And a quirky little film it was too.

Tiny Furniture, held in the confines of the cell phone cancelling cinema in Te Papa (actually, that’s a pretty good idea, but perhaps there are health and safety and potential terrorist attack reasons that cell phone dampeners are not employed in all cinema salons?), started off as a very cute little film that seemed almost like a college effort, judging by the occasionally groan worthy acting on display. Then I realised that the major groans were reserved for the stilted delivery of Aura’s mother (ouch, very painful; perhaps she is the director or something?) and the less polished performance of the teenage daughter. The performances of the main, post college cast (held together by the dry confidence of the aforementioned and pretty awesome Aura) were actually all pretty solid, even if their characters may have left a bit to be desired.

“Quirk” can go several ways. It can either be an oddball character kind of thing, where almost everyone has some strange traits that make them goofy/lovable/annoying in a laugh-at-them kind of way, or it can be all about really strange happenings occurring to some otherwise relatively normal people. While I would tend to put Scott Pilgrim Versus the World in the latter, Tiny Furniture definitely falls into the former. Aura and her family are the (baseline) normal characters in their New York of aspiring young people currently adrift, waiting for something to kick them along. Nothing does, but it is that type of film.

All the characters are annoying, to one degree or another. The guys are either moochers or users, and the females are… well, almost everything else. Aura is definitely the most sympathetic character, which her apparent lack of modesty (refreshing, considering her not quite Hollywood physique), but her friend Charlotte, though appalling in many ways, plays the Patsy to Aura’s Eddie and so ends up stealing almost every scene that she is in.

It would be nice to say that this film is more “real” than Hollywood fare, and from a certain point of view, being an Independent film and all, it kind of is. But the lives, while perhaps mundane, are far from ordinary (well, they are pretty fantastical to my own experience, but that might not be that hard) and the film definitely seemed to strike a chord more with the University students in the audience than almost anyone else. One young lady next to me was snorting so much at certain points in the movie that I was a bit worried she was going to end up on convulsions on the floor, while a man behind me found certain scenes so amusing his belly laugh meant that his head ended up merely a few centimetres from my head. My movie companions, meanwhile, were on the other end of the spectrum of reaction, running from less impressed than me to not impressed at all – and I was the eldest.

Verdict: Tiny Furniture was a fun, slight film to go and see. Never taking itself too seriously but never really going anywhere, it seemed happy to wander around, with characters popping in and out, and a strange bookend about the early life of Aura’s mother that probably was meant as something quite profound but which passed me by in my puzzled, aged state. 6 small chairs out of 10.

The Case for Cambodian Coincidence

2011-08-08T00:37:00.000+12:00

The smile. The mullet. The dark complexion.

Is this man the Cambodian John Rowles?

Verdict: The world is a very strange place, but it's nice to know that there is a John in every country. 5 cheesy smiles out of 5.

The Case for Harry Potter and the End of the Magic

2011-07-26T18:31:00.000+12:00

I always come out of the end of series like Harry Potter, one that I have followed since the beginning, with a sense of sadness. It’s the end of things as they were. The stories may be retold, additions may be added, but any of these will be still different. Such remakes and re-imaginings may even be superior, but the memory of the original will remain.

So, it comes to the review of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2. The kids from the first film have now all grown up into… older kids. While the acting ability of most of them remains dubious, the fact they have been these characters for so long means that, for me, their occasionally unconvincing utterances and failures to emote actually are what the characters themselves would be and would do.

But this is the final Harry Potter film, and with Part 1 setting the groundwork so that only the big confrontation between Harry and Lord Voldemort really remains to be told, there isn’t really a great need for acting or characterisation. This one is about fighting. The final battle. Who lives, who loves, and who dies. And, in these regards, the final film does not disappoint.

No whizz bangy effect was spared in this. I saw it in 3D, which meant there were some really neat scenes that leapt out at me, but most of the time things seemed as two dimensional as the characters and acting – though they were still spectacular nonetheless. I loved the shield that was thrown up over Hogwarts, the unchained dragon and the revisits to some sets from earlier films. The only real cringes came from (sorry) the kidult actors, with Neville’s rousing speech affecting my stomach more than my heart and Harry’s final revelations all being dealt with in an almost emotionless manner, with no sense of surprise, range, joy, relief or… anything.

The mature actors do add an air of respectability in the thesping stakes, but they aren’t really given a lot of chance to up the acting factor this time around. I was thrilled when Maggie Smith’s McGonnogal took charge, though she then faded after a very small (almost sub-molecular) joke. Meanwhile, Gambon and Rickman go through the motions and let everyone in on the plot before it is back to magic blasts and exploding polystyrene.

And as an episode of “Splode!”, this Harry Potter film is brilliant. People get their just desserts; others die tragically. The hallowed halls of Hogwarts are blown apart and scattered around, though I really wished someone would coordinate the running of the students so they all went in ONE direction, ideally to somewhere fairly safe – evidently, the school’s staff did not really find it necessary to teach children that running up into tall towers in the middle of a bombardment is not really the best survival tactic. And the ending is as clunky as the one in the books, so book purists will not be disappointed in that respect.

All up though, it is a visual rather than emotional experience. While I personally am sad to see the end of the series, I can’t say that it was the film that brought about this nostalgia. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2’s strengths and failings are keeping in line with the rest of the series, I suppose. So this film cannot be described as a disappointment, just as I fear I can’t describe it as a triumph. I can however describe it as an ending. Good bye, Harry – thanks for the ride.

Verdict: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 is a visually spectacular film, and happy to be so, having dealt with the need for real story and character development in the previous instalment. I was not convinced it was that much better in 3D, but I must say that this is a film that deserves a big screen viewing. 5.1 out of 7.2.

The Case for Morning Grumpiness

2011-07-24T08:16:00.000+12:00

1) I realise how much of a Teletubbie I look like in my onesie (a tragic tale that may end with Facebook photos...)

2) That some "expert" opinion, especially by seemingly smug people, can be completely wrong (the full tragic story is here):

3) That there are some links between Rugby World Cup issues that, to me, seem pretty obvious:

4) Amy Winehouse has passed.

Verdict: Not the best start to the day, but it should get a little better when I get dressed. Plus What Now seems to be doing a retrospective today, which may be amusing. 5 glimmers out of 10.

The Case for DCM 2011

2011-07-23T16:43:00.000+12:00

The final book fair of the Wellington season came early this year.

It also came with the usual trimmings: a bit of rain, a milling herd of rabid Wellington book fiends, a man with a microphone calling out directions and telling people to switch their cell phones on (honestly), and then, once through the long lines, it was time for a hot drink and a catch up with other hardy souls that had braved and survived the experience.

As per usual though, a few photos of the event.

Verdict: I actually ended up getting quite a few books at the Downtown Community Ministry book fair this year. Sure, it was at times a bit too overwhelming, and Microphone Man was expected but never really that welcome. Still, I have enough books to last me until the book fair season starts up in 2012, and that's the most important thing. 6.5 bags of books out of 10.

The Case for Salvation on the Small Screen

2011-07-16T08:48:00.001+12:00

After 10 years, guilty pleasure Smallville has come to an end.

Why was it a guilty pleasure? Because it was actually pretty terrible. Season 10 in particular decided to go all “inspired by” and produced episodes that were pretty much rip offs of the Matrix, 300 and the Hangover. No superhero or tweenage drama cliché was left unturned. But still, I was addicted.

Why? Well, that’s a good question. I was always a huge fan of Chloe, played by Allison Mack, with her perky charm and unrequited love for Clark Kent (Tom Welling), and Michael Rosenbaum (as Lex Luthor) managed to match Michael (General Lane) Ironside’s ability to chew scenery – pity the two never met and had a chew-off, though in comic book logic, if two such powerful characters showed up together, the cosmos could have come to an end. The series also had a general good charm and sense of fun, plus it played with the DC superhero Universe with which I have a bit of familiarity, and that got me through the first few seasons. Then Lois Lane (Erica Durance) and Oliver Queen (Justin Hartley) showed up, with their contracts stating that Durance had to appear in at least one bondage or skimpy outfit per season, while Hartley had to appear shirtless in at least one scene per episode, and the show took on a whole new level of campy insanity.

One thing Smallville got very right was casting and guest stars. From the start, Terrance Stamp (who played General Zod in Superman II) was brought in as Kal El’s dad and Annette O’Toole, who played Lana Lang in the movies, came in as Martha Kent. Of course, good old boy John Schneider was also on as Jonathan Kent, and the incredible John Glover brought in a mad sense of menace as Lionel Luthor, but there were other castings that harkened back to Super-series of earlier years. As the series progressed, Christopher Reeve showed up as alien-admiring Dr Swan, upon the actor’s death Margot Kidder made an appearance as Dr Swan’s assistant, and even Teri Hatcher took a break from the Housewives to make a cameo as Lois Lane’s mother (and if you don’t know who they played in the movies and in Lois and Clark: the New Adventures of Superman, well, shame on you).

And yes, through it all, it was fairly bad. Still, it didn’t mind mocking itself and, if you could hang around long enough, it had a pretty good sense of humour. Plus the nods to the rest of the DC Universe were pretty cool (Booster Gold…), especially for a bit of a fan like me, even if the final wrap up episode kind of just… ended.

Nonetheless, I will miss this indulgence. I could dwell on the fact that a show like this survived 10 seasons when far superior fare like Firefly was brutally cut down with barely a season under its belt, but then that would just depress me. More.

Fare thee well Smallville. Superman, I will see you in the funny papers.

Verdict: I can’t rate it terribly highly as it was pretty terrible. But I loved (in a "I know its bad for me addiction" kind of way) Smallville nonetheless, and my Saturday night catch ups from the late night screening the night before will be missed. 6 seasons out of 10, for sentimental reasons.

The Case for More Kung Fu

2011-07-13T19:59:00.000+12:00

I remember a few years ago going to the first Kung Fu Panda movie and being presently surprised by its awesomeness. So it was without hesitation though a little bit of trepidation that I sorted myself out to see the sequel.

My fears were misplaced. But then, how could any movie of this ilk go wrong when it enlists the vocal aid of martial arts legends like Jackie Chan, Michelle Yeoh and Jean Claude van Damme?

Holding it all together and bringing it all to life is Jack Black as the main panda. He has some wonderful support from the other characters, but really, without him, the film would be pretty hard to imagine. He’s zany and lovable, enthusiastic and unstoppable – a much more amusing and less irritating Shrek in a way.

The story for the sequel is not the usual “loses way; finds way” kind – this one starts a completely new adventure, with China and Kung Fu itself under threat by an evil peacock and his cannon of doom. More typical of a sequel, Po (the Panda) learns a bit about his origins and about himself, and there are some definite moments in which I found myself getting a bit teary-eyed, but then, I can be a sucker for that kind of thing. From time to time.

The animation is great too. Sure it is not a Pixar production, so I wasn’t left in awe about the movement of each follicle of fur, but it is so smooth and clean and juxtaposed by the “imaginary” cartoon animation that it engrossed me nonetheless. Of course, some of that animation looked like it would be lifted directly from the film and tied in to the inevitable video games based on the movie, but then, it was an inevitability that some of the chase scenes would feel like they were created specifically for that gaming purpose considering (the cynic in me says) that they probably were.

No matter. There is very little to complain about in the movie. I would not necessarily recommend bringing a baby into the theatre (as a few people did in our session, the wailing cries of the kids giving away their positions), but the adults chuckled along with the movie – myself included. And the final scene indicated another sequel might be in the works. If so, I can only hope that it is as good as this effort. Touch wood.

Verdict: Kung Fu Panda 2 brought all the Dragon Warrior powers to bear and delivered a pretty convincing fight to win the “good movie” title on points. Its not Toy Story, but then few live action films can live up to that high standard of film making, much less kiddie-aimed animation fare. But what Kung Fu Panda is is an awesome movie, with lots of fun and action and in jokes, and definitely rocked my animated boat (unlike some of the kiddie movie previews we got before the main feature, which made me more inclined to throw myself from that boat and drown myself. But I digress). 8 noodles out of 10.

The Case for Third Generation Transformers

2011-07-06T18:06:00.001+12:00

Transformers: Dark of the Moon is the story of a guy defending his world and his girlfriend (or should that be the other way around) from a horde of evil mechanical aliens that want to enslave humanity. And already, there is a problem.

Because of course, Transformers movies, for me at least, should be about, well, the Transformers. And Transformers: Dark of the Moon starts off that way with an impressive spaceship chase around Cybertron that I am sure would have looked even more spectacular in 3D. And then the story turns into a re-inventing of the moon race as a trip to really get human hands on some alien technology. And then it turns to Sam and his girlfriend. And his job woes. And his parents. And the movie's pace turns glacial.

Apparently, Michael Bay wanted this to be a human story rather than a machine story, but the problem with that is that 3D glasses can't make the human characters three dimensional, whereas they can turn special effects into something magical. For example, while no cliché character is left unturned, Bay has found new ways to visually amaze. Not only were the action sequences so impressively nonsensical that they would be offensive were this a film that was actually designed to follow some kind of logic (here they can just be enjoyed for the escapist rubbish that they are), but I could also imagine the tenderly filmed arse (and other bodily attributes) of perma-tanned Rosie Huntington-Whiteley in her incredibly short, tight and white outfits might have earned an "R" rating for the 3D version.

The human hero of the film, Sam (Shia LaBeouf), is a tanned man permanently misunderstood, underestimated, a complete klutz, and attracts only the most magnificent specimens of womanhood, even if his only way of expressing himself is through near-hysterical shouting. All the time. Speaking of tans though, every (human) character in this film seems to have had the need for several sunbed sessions written into their contract. John Malkovich tops his own outrageous performance and skin colour with disturbingly white gnashers.

Of course, for me, the real heroes are supposed to be the Autobots. They are shown making the world safer by attacking "illegal" Middle East nuclear development sites (the definition of what constitutes "illegal" in this context is left purposefully murky) while keeping an eye out for the evil Decepticons, though they don't really do a terribly good job of the latter. But then, only Optimus Prime is given anything resembling a character, so when he is not around, the other Autobots just tend to talk sassily to each other and come across as really annoying.

The great Leonard Nimoy takes on the role of Sentinel Prime, and there are a couple of Star Trek references along the way that show that the filmmakers were thrilled to have him on board. Sentinal Prime is the creator of a transportation device called a Space Bridge which, on reflection and when used, makes no sense whatsoever, though it does create very pretty light effects. In fact, all the special effects are pretty special, though there is a good whack of (apparently) real stunt work to counter all the digital magic.

But, as much as it looks amazing, after the first fifteen minutes or so, I found myself regularly checking my watch. The film runs at 2.5 hours, but it feels at least twice that long, with many meaningless slow motion shots and a fairly random visit to a Russian gambling house. And I never really understood how secret the existence of the Autobots was. But then, I didn't understand the criminal underuse of Alan Tudyk either.

Verdict: Transformers: Dark of the Moon is definitely not more than meets the eye, but what meets the eye is big, explosive and impressive. What meets the brain will really depend on the type of person you are, and for me, the overwhelming impression was one being in the back seat of a slow moving autobot and every few minutes and asking "are we there yet?". 6 energon cubes out of 10.

The Case for Lips 2011

2011-07-02T08:49:00.001+12:00

Once again, I attended one of the Rocky Horror Picture Show screenings at the Embassy Cinema in Wellington.

This year, I took along a newbie to the cinema experience scene, so we went to the Saturday screening in civilian attire. It is perhaps one of the few times in Wellington that I felt conspicuous in jeans and a shirt, though at least this year I did not earn the disdain of the lead usherette.

Even with the event running 30 minutes behind schedule, it was another case of staying (relatively) sane inside of sanity, with the packed movie hall shuddering as everyone took a jump to the left. The audience was respectful of the screen by throwing all the rice, paper and toast everywhere else, and it was an amazingly friendly and fun atmosphere. Some of the judging decisions around the costume prize was questionable, but, as they say at the rugby, the movie was the winner on the night - and hopefully the cleaners got a bit of a bonus too:

Verdict: Another awesome screening of the Rocky Horror Picture Show. I am already looking forward to going in 2012. I was thrilled, chilled and fulfilled. 4.5 creatures of the night out of 5 (subtracting 0.5 for my own lack of costume).

The Case for Lantern Light

2011-06-22T19:57:00.000+12:00

It was going to be a tall order for Green Lantern to be as good a movie as X-Men First Class, so I went in hoping for something more akin to Thor, and I was right to lower my expectations.

Green Lantern and Thor have quite a few things in common: lots of extra terrestrial action and CGI baddies, and a lot of comic history sorted and resorted and then boiled down into a movie-length film. Green Lantern also has some pretty good (and pretty pretty) people in the leads, with Ryan Reynolds cockily charming as Hal Jordan, Peter Sarsgaard creepily malevolent as Hector, Mark Strong all strongly purple as the lead Lantern Sinestro, and Taika Waititi does his afro proud as Tom. Tim Robbins is there, playing a Senator so in bed with the military industrial complex that there is no doubt that this man has completely sold his soul to big business. I thought Blake Lively was stunning but as a character was almost an absent void as Carol Ferris, which was a shame considering she was almost the only woman in the entire movie (Angela Bassett also appears as Amanda Waller but is disappointingly under used) - but then, the story isn't about her.

No, the story is cobbled together from lots of cinematic clichés (and there are some spoilers in here, so avoid this paragraph if you like). There's the scene where Hal goes all Topper Harley in his plane ("Pull up, Millivanillichilliwilli!"); there's the visit to his nephew's party and the estranged extended family whom we never see or hear mention of again; there's a fight scene with work colleagues he managed to annoy that is apparently completely forgotten the next day at a mega gala for the company winning a government contract that is a pale version of an Iron Man-style product launch; there's the dramatic "humanity is awesome if you give it a chance" speech that plays to a bored crowd (the cinema audience, as the Guardians of Galaxy look interested); and then there's the Hal saves the day scene and gets congratulated for it by his comrades who seem to have been hovering nearby and never actually assisted him at any stage of his deathly confrontation even though it would probably have been a really good thing if they had done so.

And so, as the scenes are pretty much separate entities, the transition between them can be a bit confusing, and the storyline wanders. It's a bit long, and could have done with a bit (lot?) of trimming in some of the scenes mentioned above. But it all looks magnificent, even if we didn't see it in 3D. And the charm machine that is Ryan Reynolds keeps everything bolted together, though he is no Robert Downey Junior and so does not completely run away with the show, allowing Peter and Taika to make their own presences felt, however briefly they may appear on screen.

The film all comes together in a pretty package with amazing special effects and a few moments of humour. Sure, the villain and its (his?) dispatch are rather stupid; the "Lost Sector" is a really idiotic name for a region so many people seem to visit (unless it was name after Edgar Lost, the first person to go there); and the Green Lantern oath and the Corps gatherings are set in large warehouses full of cheese. And whenever the soundtrack got going, I kept waiting for it to burst into John Williams' Superman theme, so similar (or "inspired") it seemed. But, that said, the film is very much an easy, visually and auditory entertaining, movie that sticks pretty much to the comic origins of its inspiration, so the need to engage one's brain and really get in to the film are not really necessary.

Verdict: Green Lantern is passable and likeable in much the same way as Thor. Easy on the eyes and the brain, it's a special effects extravaganza worth seeing on the big screen, though I am not sure if repeat viewings would really be necessary. 35 watts out of 60.

The Case for Movie Films

2011-06-18T16:29:00.000+12:00

It has been a movie feast recently, thanks to a visitation to a new cinema and then some tickets to see a free movie at Event Cinemas in Queensgate. And the movie of choice on which to splurge said tickets was Super 8, the Goonies of this generation.

Well, not really. The advent of computer generated imagery and the increase in production values means that this movie looks amazing. Sets are large, effects are larger, and it is a slick production with not a hair nor a line out of place. Compare that with Goonies, watched last night, where the effects were sometimes less than special, the worst (the octopus) was omitted, and on the commentary, Sean Astin noted that he had used Josh Brolin's real name in the movie - and it was still in there.

However, watching the Goonies last night reinforced what was lacking in the movie from the day before. Fun. A sense of amusement. A sense of wonder. As, despite the spectacle, Super 8 was all pretty lifeless.

There are some great actors in Super 8, all with very wide eyes, and I am a huge fan of Kyle Chandler in almost anything, so the acting itself was not a problem. And perhaps I was influenced by the fact I am now definitely not the target demographic for the film. And the fact someone left a window open in the cinema so that I was almost frozen for most of the film on one of the coldest nights we have had this winter did not help either.

But really, while the kids in Goonies were annoying, at least they were goofily annoying. The kids in Super 8 are boringly annoying, sticking to the stereotypes of the 80s without any of the retro fun (even though this is set in the very early 80s methinks) and making the kids world weary and burdened rather than, well, like kids. Sure, the Goonies had their problems, but the Super 8 brats are weighed down by them, and adds to a massive drag factor in the film.

The plot doesn't help that much. The train crash is incredibly impressive, though at the 5 minute mark I had to wonder at what speed the train was travelling and, at that speed and with that mass, how would an almost motionless pick-up truck (even an American made metal beastie) be able to do any damage - and, subsequently, how could any occupant of said pick-up truck survive. After that, the adventure plays second fiddle to a budding romance, which (for me, in this context) entirely the wrong way around. And the ending... well, it's very much a, "so, what next?" kind of anticlimax.

Luckily, what follows the end, played over the credits, is the zombie film that the kids have been working on with their Super 8 camera for the duration of the movie, and that film is huge amounts of fun. Low budget, bad dialogue, tragic acting, terrible storyline... It's like that zombie film has all the good bits of the Goonies really, and the leftovers - and the budget - went into Super 8. Shame.

Verdict: Super 8 was a disappointing coming of age movie, that probably shows my age more than anything else. 4.5 frames out of 8.

The Case for X Class

2011-06-15T20:16:00.000+12:00

Well, I should just start off by saying that X-Men: First Class is all class. It is an absolutely brilliant action movie, with a great cast that bring a huge amount of fun to the proceedings, and with nods to the films that have come before, even if continuity-wise they come after.

Much like the Star Trek reboot, the X-Men: First Class story is not about exploring anything deep. Far from it – the characters are unburdened with the woes and trials and tribulations of mutant-hood that bogged down the characters in the other X films. These characters are driven by very straight forward and obvious, but no less powerful, motivations.

Eric, played by the furrowed brow of Michael Fassbender, is the man seeking revenge on Sebastian, ex Nazi and megalomaniac, played with an amazing relish by the man everyone knows one way or another, Kevin Bacon. Eric’s quest is helped by the fact he apparently knows every language ever spoken and his not inconsiderable gift with things ferrous. He encounters James McAvoy’s telepathic Charles and his blue-skinned sister (a really good Jennifer Lawrence as Raven) and they then recruit some other people to help them take Kev down. And that’s really all there is to it.

To say the main three men dominate the story and what passes for development is not entirely true: Rose Byrne as CIA agent Moira gets to run around in skimpy underwear for a bit, and the always awesome Michael Ironside bares his mighty gnashers and masticates on the plywood ship around him during his brief appearance as a US Navy Captain. There are other brief cameos that also make an impression: Hugh Jackman gets to play the only character that swears and the gorgeous Rebecca Romjin pops up for a second or two.

But, as good (or passable, in some of the minor characters’ cases) as the thesping talent may be, the real star is the non stop action story, shifting from Germany to Russia to the USA to Cuba all very swiftly and with a minimum of problem.

To be honest, the only problem I had was how it ended. I will try and avoid any spoilers here, but stop reading if you want to know nothing whatsoever. I mean, why didn’t Charles just let go? And I have to say, come the final showdown, I was actually on Eric’s side – those pesky homo sapiens deserve to die, as they all seem to be complete bastards (except those who wear great underwear under their regular clothes) and really aren’t that nice. I am not really sure if that was the moral of the story, but it is what I came away with.

But mostly what I came away with was a wonderful feeling of having watched a really great and entertaining film. Sure, it may not even try to be mildly deep, but it’s a huge amount of fun and that’s really all I wanted.

Verdict: X-Men: First Class is a first class effort, outstripping Thor and even the Iron Mans in its enjoyability. The film proves that people are both evil and stupid, and that girls always go for the bad boys. But Kevin Bacon gets to prove his evil chops, and the whole X-Men franchise gets a great new film to add to its belt. IX.5 out of X

The Case for Another Hangover

2011-06-13T20:15:00.000+12:00

There is a lot to be said about a funny film. There is a lot to be said about The Hangover Part 2. Unfortunately, the things to be said are pretty much mutually exclusive.

No, I was not a fan of this film. I was surprised when I found myself enjoying the odd moment watching the first Hangover film, but then, I was watching it at home and able to fast forward or otherwise ignore the film in the comfort of my own lounge.

There is no such option of escaping in a cinema, and hearing the cackling of those around me made it even worse. The Hangover Part Two is lewd, crude, and I am not sure if "rascist" quite encapsulates how it treats the Thais (as noone really comes out terribly well, it has to be said). It's evidently designed to capitalise on the success on the first film: the scene of the boys boarding the plane indicates they are flying alone, and it seems they only meet up with their wives once they collect them from the checked luggage carousel. The characters are all annoying... and no, I really can't be bothered talking about it anymore.

I have to admit, the NotKate and I really only went because we wanted to see a movie at the Roxy Cinema in Miramar, and Super 8 was sold out two hours before the film screened. I can say a whole heap of good things about the Roxy - and I kind of have to, as it has the kind of atmospheric lighting that made it really hard for me to take any photos with my little cameraphone. Ah well, I may try and post some of them later, but lets just say that it is an amazing place, with an incredibly roomy interior, lovely comfy chairs, a matire d' who managed to make me ashamed for being alive... and then the cinema we ended up seeing the movie in is wonderful, with large plush seats and an impressive screen. And yes, I want to go again...

Verdict 1: The Hangover Part 2. Terrible. 2 out of 10, with points only given for being screened at the Roxy Cinema.

Verdict 2: The Roxy Cinema. 10 out of 10. I am definitely going again, though I may be a bit wary about the scary woman in charge of the cafe...

The Case for Whiter than White

2011-06-11T09:42:00.000+12:00

Following on from yesterday's post, I remembered an awesome show from a few years ago called John Safran versus God, where John tried to join the KKK, and wondered if his Jewish upbringing would count against him.

Verdict: John is like the Australian version of Jeremy Wells, but more so. Good on the Aussies. Three Ks out of the KKK.

The Case for Danish Fraternity

2011-06-10T23:03:00.000+12:00

There are so many film festivals that come through Wellington that one has to be a bit picky as to what one chooses to actually go and see. While the International Film Festival (still to come) tends to have a really decent selection of some varied, crafted films, some of the others serve as "art packages", hiding dross that would otherwise be relegated to the straight-to-video bin were it not presented as part of a greater culture, be it Italian, French, documentary or Amnesty International themed.

One of the festivals to be particularly wary of is Out Takes, where the label of "festival" is sometimes applied to give what is practically just p0rn a veneer of respectability. The Out Takes programme at least warns (or alerts) potential patrons to which films will be hard core and which will actually have a story line, making it easier for people to choose by which type of movie they would rather be challenged and/or stimulated.

From my perspective, there have been some gems in the past: I remember many moons ago enjoying the hilariously pink But I'm a Cheerleader ("Is that really RuPaul? No! But yes! And there's Melanie Lynskey! Hi!") and the offbeat Incredibly True Adventures of Two Girls in Love, but not every year contains a film that piques my interest. This year, intrigued by the independent indication of quality granted by a prize awarded in the Rome Film Festival, I took the plunge with Brotherhood (Broderskab in the original Danish).

Brotherhood is not an easy film to watch, dealing as it does with neo-Nazis. But I was particularly impressed that it dealt with its subject matter in a very grown up way: the neo-Nazi leaders were shown as charismatic men who could attract extreme loyalty, at the same time as distancing themselves from the actions of their acolytes; Lars, the lead, is shown as a young man searching for a place to belong, an easy shared sense of family, even though he falls in with a group with whom he does not really see eye to eye. And then when Lars falls in love with one of the other guys in the chapter... well, things are bound to get messy.

It has to be said that this movie does not work as an advertisement for Tourism Denmark - unless, perhaps, if you are a skinhead. The place is shown as a dark, cloudy, cold and bleak country, with barren, claustrophobic houses and apartments, and where even its Nazi groups have to draw inspiration from the Confederate States of America, loyalty oaths are pledged in English and the rules of joining the club are mundanely bureaucratic, with many a form to fill and pieces of propoganda to memorise.

And that is, of course, the film's greatest strength - it all feels so real. Sure, there are a few contrivances along the way, but it all makes sense and all seems entirely plausible, in its understated and bleak way. It's really very good, but definitely not for everyone.

Verdict: I don't recall seeing many Danish films, but that may have to change. Brotherhood felt brutally real in its portrayl of the neo Nazi lifestyle, and how, for certain disenfranchised people, joining such a cult could seem a really empowering, emotionally uplifting idea. Of course, that club comes with a lot of baggage, baggagae that can come around and beat you up in the end. Not a nice film, but it definitely gives the audience a bit to think about. 8 pastries out of 10.

The Case for D2

2011-06-05T15:01:00.000+12:00

I had to try the Double Down burger at KFC:

And when you square a Double Down, you get something decidedly...

Verdict: I think a picture paints a thousand words. Or perhaps, in this case, a thousand calories. But it was yummy... 48 grams of fat out of 50.

The Case for Cats Amongst the Fishes

2011-06-04T08:06:00.001+12:00

A few people had reservations when I suggested the documentary Catfish as the movie of the week. The synopsis paints a picture of discomfort caused by the revelation of human frailty, much like the Office, though this one promises to be real. And let me say that those reservations were completely justified.

The basic premise is this: Nev, a New York photographer, goes to meet the one of the people that he has befriended on Facebook. But is she all she appears to be via the wonder of the internet?

As you can probably guess, there are a few speedbumps on the way – otherwise, it wouldn’t be a terribly interesting documentary. The fact that Nev is not always terribly likeable is, I think, a nice balance to the fact this is his story about the people he meets and so, for the most part, he is considered the “hero”. On the flip side, the people he encounters may not have been entirely truthful, but it is hard to find them completely unsympathetic. And I will say no more on it, as I think that I have already given too much away.

Let’s face it: there are some weird and wacky people on Facebook (and the blogosphere I am sure) who will say just about anything, and some of it might just be that they are crazy people in real life and some of it might be that they have an active imagination and have no qualms about making their fantasy life appear to be their reality when no proof is required. Look at World of Warcraft.

Catfish tries to peer behind the electronic veil about the people who we might only fleetingly know, only tangentially have encountered, and who may for all we know be a bearded tattooed man lurking behind the image of a school girl with blonde pigtails, Nev employs his own deceptions to try and lift (or should that be degauss?) that veil. It’s all very duplicitous, but then, again, that makes for a riveting documentary.

It’s an indication of how important the whole social network thing is when the final “facts” roll, and Nev is credited with having over 700 Facebook friends. As that flashed before me, I questioned the bearing that the number had on anything that had come before. The number of Facebook friends in and of itself does (in some circles) lend an aura of status. But, as this film kind of proves, how much do people know about the Facebook friends they have? Do they actually know them at all?

Verdict: It is hard to write too much about this movie without giving all of it away. Just summarising what its about gives away the major twist, but it’s the nature of those turns that have to be seen (and so should not be explained away here). Suffice to say, Catfish is definitely a hard film to watch, exposing as it does what the freedom of the anonymity of Facebook can provide to some people, and that while it can make the world a smaller place, that does not mean everyone on Facebook is living on the same planet. 7 Friend Requests out of 10.

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As an aside (another one!), John Clark and co continue to be completely hilarious and depressing in their view on reality. Thanks to d3vo for pointing this little gem out.

The Case for Four More Years, NZ Style

2011-05-28T09:14:00.002+12:00

Sometimes, I wonder if writers are aware of the reality of NZ Rugby.

Take this article on the re-signing of super-All Black, Richie McCaw, following hard on the heels of the reporting of Daniel Carter’s decision to stay in New Zealand, also with the Canterbury Crusaders (though by his own admission, Carter spends a lot of his time in Auckland).

First off, let me just say I have nothing against the deal made with either McCaw or Carter, or Sonny Bill Williams for that matter. That’s what employees and employers do – the employees demand what they want and it’s up to the employer to determine if that is what they are willing to pay.

What gets my goat is the praise heaped upon these people for accepting vast sums of money and conditions that they decided had to be worked into their agreements. Sure, the players have decided to stay in New Zealand, and their decision to do so may not have been done on the lawns of Parliament, but lets get real here: these people got what they wanted and are getting handsomely paid. Could they have earned more overseas? Probably – and, for Carter at least, the promise of “sabbatical” time in his four-year contract means he still can go abroad and demand quite a bit for the experience.

Of course, the money these men get from the NZRFU is just one source of income: Carter has quite a few highly visible endorsement earners with other companies (I would love to see the advertisement, “Dan Carter would choose Nikon cameras, even if he had to pay for them”, though I have my doubts that this would ever happen); Williams has a sideline in pugilism which I am sure is well remunerated; and McCaw shows up in fliers I find in my letterbox every so often advertising very solid and reliable and trustworthy things that I am sure he is meant to embody. All of these endorsements would (I imagine) be reconsidered if these people were not playing in New Zealand, as their “patriotic” currency would be somewhat diluted by them working and playing abroad long term.

So, and again, here’s hoping that these gushing media reports and rabid fans get real: Rugby Union in New Zealand is a money-making venture, and these players, while no doubt getting a lot of satisfaction in playing for New Zealand and for local clubs, are in no way staying here purely out of the goodness of their hearts. They are making sure they are getting the best deal that they possibly can, and all power to them – but let’s not paint them in martyrs’ colours, please.

Verdict: Good on the major All Blacks players for resigning to play in New Zealand for the next few years at least. But it would be disingenuous to pretend that these men get nothing for staying and playing in New Zealand: they are getting some pretty sweet deals, and have negotiated opportunities within their rugby agreements as well with other organisations to earn quite a bit more. Considering their calibre and class, they deserve their rewards – but New Zealanders should stop trying to fool themselves that rugby is still “grass roots” at heart. These men are professionals, being paid as such, and should be treated and seen as such too. 7 shots of reality out of 15.

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As an aside, why I like Joan:

"Oprah Winfrey is so powerful that she had the Rapture postponed until after her final show airs." - Joan Rivers.

The Case for Four More Pirates

2011-05-25T19:28:00.000+12:00

Can there ever be too many pirates?

Well the answer is of course yes, but Pirates of the Carribean: On Stranger Tides, the fourth outing in the series, does not outstay its welcome. Bereft of the need to give Kiera Knightly and Orlando Bloom something to do, the film hangs on every staggering syllable and swaying step of Johnny Depp's awesome Captain Jack Sparrow.

Back this time around are Keith Richards and Geoffrey Rush, and I am sure there was a miniscule cameo appearance by Judy Dench, who obviously jumped at the chance to share a kiss with Depp. Ian McShane is also along for this ride, bringing a wonderful sense of menace to his otherwise quite pleasant Blackbeard, and Penelope Cruz adds an extra level of hotness - and a few good jokes at Sparrow's expense.

As enjoyable as this romp is, it makes no consideration for pacing or intelligence. There are lots of action sequences, and the ones at the start just seem to play for time, their over-elaborateness acting against them in the awe-inspiring stakes. And as to the plot... well, who really knows what is really going on or cares about the complete obviousness of plot twists and motivations - this is Pirates of the Carribean, after all.

But, especially on the big screen at the Embassy and well cushioned in the Platinum seats, Pirates of the Carribean: On Stranger Tides was definitely an enjoyable event worthy of the big screen, with its rousing soundtrack swirling around in a much more manly and proper style than Sparrow ever quite manages at any stage in the film.

I have to say though, the film did a very good job of distracting me from the awesomely titillating preview for the final Harry Potter film - and to do that, it had to be pretty entertaining.

Verdict: Pirates of the Carribean: On Stranger Tides lives up to the what it says on the box. It is big, stupid, lots of Johnny and swashbuckling and then some more Johnny thrown in for awesome measure. Sure, it does seem a little long, because it is, but worth the ride, especially in an awesome cinema. 6 Arrs out of 10.

The Case for Bookfairs in Wainui, 2011 Edition

2011-05-21T16:06:00.000+12:00

Wainuiomata may get a bad rap for a number of reasons, but one thing that undeniably it does better than almost anyone else is book fairs. They usually have a great selection of books in relatively good condition, and the venue is never too crowded possibly as the location wards off some of those more aggressive at book fairs than in almost any other aspect of their lives.

This year, the book fair was a bit disappointing in some ways - smaller selections of books, some categories almost non existent, and some very dubious signage - but it still managed to surprise and be highly pleasant.

A big thank you to Stretch for getting me there when my car let me down, and a major thank you to LittleHall for finding me a cookbook that I have been needing for a while.

Verdict: Good, but not great. But at least there were no insane people with bullhorns and intercom systems - we have the Wellington Downtown Community Ministry book fair to look forward to for that. 7 pre-loved literature out of 10.

The Case for Finding the Source

2011-05-18T20:32:00.001+12:00

I can break down what I thought about Source Code into two words: enjoyable bollocks.

To elaborate, Source Code is a lot of fun, well put together, well acted by Jake Gyllenhaal as Captain Colter Stevens, Michelle Monaghan and the hypnotically awesome Vera Farmiga and well worth the effort to see. But, don't try and make sense of any of the supposed "science" going on, as that is all a complete load of rubbish.

I can't really explain how much drivel the concept behind Source Code is without revealing a lot about how the movie unfolds. True, the idea of hopping back in time for a short while to save the planet or people from certain disaster is nothing new (remember the awesome 12 Monkeys? Avoid the seemingly stupid Déjà vu?). But these kind of films always try and have some form of internal logic to explain how these things happen - the "rules" as it were that govern something that currently seems completely implausible. But, in Source Code, the rules themselves are very open to interpretation, and a bit morally ambiguous.

The main rule (and I think I can reveal this without giving away too much, but stop now if you don't want to know) is that Stevens is reliving the last moments of a "host" man who died in a train explosion, the last memories of whom were captured by a computer programme in some unspecified yet quite sophisticated way (considering he was pretty close to the blast, I imagine there might not be much brain left to get these glimmers from). So, if that is the case, how does Stevens move "outside" of this person's experiences to track down the guilty parties? Is the computer programme filling in the gaps of places and things the "host" experienced, and so these details and any information that might be gathered may not be right at all?

Putting aside this and every other head-scratching "but" moment, the rest of the film flows really well. As previously mentioned, any scene with Vera Farmiga is infinitely watchable, and the scenes on the train are quick enough that Stevens' acclimatization and wilder antics as he tries to find the guilty party don't really drag. Meanwhile, Monaghan is all sweetness and light and unbelievably appealing, and I dare anyone not to want take her home with them.

The film also makes Chicago look like an amazing place I would love to visit, though I would have to go with ear muffs on to ensure I avoided the incredibly irritating soundtrack that seems to dominate the movie and the city. Indeed the first 5 minutes of the film make the windy city seem incredibly interesting while at the same time have me reaching for the neck of the score's composer so that I can wring it.

All up though, the film is really well put together, even if the parts are not equal to the sum of the whole. It's also one of those films that won't really lose anything on the small screen, but I appreciated seeing it at the cinema nonetheless.

Verdict: Source Code passes much better when it stops trying to make sense and just increases the action, tension and makes liberal use of Vera Farmiga. 6 clips of a Chicago city rail ticket out of 10.

The Case for Teenage Dreaming

2011-05-11T19:08:00.005+12:00

I was not terribly surprised when my decision to go to the Katy Perry concert generated a certain amount of sniggering when I mentioned it to a few people (mainly at the gym). The actual decision to go came about because I had been discussing acts I would like to see, and Ms Perry's sugary pop music and her own fairly off kilter attitude (from what I gleaned from the media of course) struck chords with me that made me think seeing a concert of hers would be fun. And so, an off the cuff remark that I would go and see her if she came to Wellington came home to roost (if cuffs can do that) when a Wellington date for her California Dreams tour was announced. Luckily, I knew others also attending, and so the stage was set for a fairly... youth-oriented evening.

Unfortunately, the venue chosen for the show was the TSB Arena. I have been to a few performances there, and while the Split Enz concert went quite well, I took that to be more because I was seated facing the stage rather than the venue itself, as I have paid for "more expensive" seats and ended up in the elevated seats looking sideways at the stage - or at least, what I can see through some annoying people who refuse to sit down (ah, that Billy Connolly stage show...).

Luckily, this time around, the TSB arena worked out perfectly. Sure, there was a queue for the entrance that stretched back almost as far as the Bluebridge Ferry terminal, and the egress was about as easy as having a calm debate with Titewhai Harawira, with people heading "against the stream" of the crowd, others determined to overtake those already trying to get out, and then the terrible decision to sell merchandise just near the main - and only - exit which led to a huge bottleneck just before heading out of the building. But the forced intimacy of the venue and the fact that there was standing room only on the floor gave the whole occasion a wonderful party atmosphere.

When I arrived, local act Zowie was wowing the early arrivals with her angry girl power attitude anthems. I had only heard of her in passing and knew nothing of her songs before I saw her perform, but I thought her stuff was pretty good, though not really aimed at my demographic. She was swiftly followed by a speed talking DJ who I could barely understand, but who made the crowd go wild by counting down the number of songs left in his set before the main act arrived. His songs got progressively slower and less catchy as the countdown continued, and it was a little bit of a surprise when his final song led to a 15 minute hiatus before the main show began (not sure if a countdown is really meant to work that way), but his set got everyone in a jumpy, arm wavy mood, and set the fun tone for the rest of the evening.

And when Katy Perry came out, that tone was ramped up to "awesome" fun. The show was amazing: the costumes, the set design, the lighting, the effects, the dancers, the singers, the songs - and of course, central to it all, the incredible performer that is Katy Perry. It got off to a great start when my favourite, Teenage Dream, got the party underway. Mixed in amongst an almost incomprehensible story about a trip to candy land that unfolded on the large screens above us, the songs may or may not have contributed something to the plot, but it didn't matter. There were quite a few songs I didn't know, but then Perry has had quite a few hits despite only releasing a few albums, and they were all mixed up amongst the "unknown" tracks, and so struck just the right balance between the two.

The highlight of the evening had to be the amazing performance of ET, which has quite a slow, aggressive beat. All the words were flashed up on the screen (helping everyone sing along), and the lighting effects went all 1980s disco fantasy, with green lasers bathing the venue in a funky retro-futuristic light. Of course, the crowd went wild for Perry's classic I Kissed a Girl, and everyone was hanging out for the great belting-it-out anthem of Firework (with real fireworks blasting across the venue) that signalled the almost end of the show.

And in between all that, Perry proved to be a completely amazing person. Her call for people to take their shirts off was answered by a young man whose speed and/or athletic build earned him a call on stage and the chance to peck Perry on the cheek. Girls were not left out, as a later "name that tune" challenge resulted in one woman earning a kiss. And at one stage Perry seemed to be pimping out her male back up dancers to any girls or guys willing to meet up with them after the show.

There were a few slower parts. A call to the audience for songs for Katy to perform was a nice idea, but the outcome was pre-ordained to appeal to the very poppy songs (like that Friday song and the whipping hair back and forth one) and so seemed to slow things down for no reason. Perry talked to the audience a few times as well, thrilling the crowd with lots of local references and reassuring everyone she knew she was in Wellington, New Zealand, thought he odd references to pouches and Summer Heights High, while very antipodean, were probably meant to appeal to a more Ocker audience. Bless.

But the crowd - with me amongst them - were willing to forgive any such lapses. The music was amazing, even if I wasn't overly impressed with her version of Whitney Houston's I Want To Dance With Somebody, though it was a great excuse to get some members of the audience on stage, with one lucky lady even brought back to get an up close and personal photo on her i-phone. Speaking of which, one thing that did surprise me was the number of cameras in attendance, with my view occasionally obscured by a dozen people raising their digital recording devices above their head to capture the performance for posterity.

Perry is stunning, her Wonder Womanly outfits emphasising her incredible Lynda Carter-esque curves, and the screens made the most of her dazzling blue eyes. A couple of mildly drunk guys behind me repeatedly yelled - in their deepest possible voices - a generous offer of lodgings at their place for the night should Perry require it, and though she herself made that request to the audience later in the evening, I think the men behind me would not have had their offers accepted. There were plenty of people who made the effort to get dressed up too, with blue and pink wigs galore (though not on sale at the merchandise counter), and the brigade of Girl Scouts at the back of the venue got special mention.

The show finished at just the right time for me to catch my train home, and as everyone left, the crowd was abuzz with praise. I have been to a few amazing concerts, but in terms of sheer spectacle, energy and fun, I don't think anything could come close or outdo this one. And, in a case of cosmic synergy framing the evening, as I walked back to my house under a starry sky smeared with a light dusting of autumnal mist, the final song on the radio was Perry's Firework. Brilliant.

Verdict: Not quite perfect, but the California Dream tour concert by Katy Perry was pretty close. Were the universe to tilt on its axis and a few million possibilities and probabilities change, I would marry Perry in an instant and bear her fine females. She is awesome, as was the show, and I will definitely go to one of her concerts again - despite any sniggering my enthusiasm might arouse. 9.5 fireworks out of 10.

The Case for Relating to Music

2011-05-09T20:19:00.003+12:00

For a bit of a change, I went along to a movie of which I had heard absolutely nothing. Mozart’s Sister is a French film that I initially thought might be about some woman’s personal development through listening to the collected works of the maestro, much like Julia and Julia. But a quick glance at the synopsis before entering the theatre relieved me of that notion and confirmed that the movie was very much going to be about what it said on the box.

Nannerl was the nickname for Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s sister who was apparently almost equally as talented but hindered from becoming as famous as her brother because of the limitations imposed on women at the time. Due to this fact, I am not sure how factual the rest of the movie actually was, but it paints a fairly realistic picture of those life and times.

Well, kind of: for the most part, the Mozart family spend their time speaking French to each other, and while I am sure they spoke it, I am not altogether sure it would have been their language at home. Besides that though, life in those times is painted as sumptuous but creaking and drafty, cold but warmed by the use of fire and multiple layers. Versailles in particular is shown as incredibly opulent but at the same time I got the impression it would have been a not terribly comfortable (by modern standards) place to stay, with paper thin walls and retainers hanging around the whole time. The encounter with a toilet is seen as something close to magic, and the family live on top of each other making romantic encounters and the trials of growing up a more… family affair.

And a family affair the whole production seems to be. I am not sure of the name Feret is the French equivalent of Smith, but the fact that every other name in the cast and production list seems to end with that nom de famille made me incredibly suspicious that nepotism is alive and well in modern France. And, should that suspicion be correct, it probably explains a lot of the weaknesses in the film.

While there can be no doubt that the people playing Nannerl and Wolfgang make a convincing show of being able to play the violin, there is more doubt about the acting ability of the younger members of the cast. Wolfgang is not expected to do much, so his abilities as an actor are hard to judge, though he appears to display quite a proficiency when it comes to music. Nannerl appears likewise very adept with a violin, though it is obvious throughout that her singing voice is dubbed and we never see her hands at the clavichord keyboard.

But Nannerl, like all the younger women, seem to be part of the director’s family and so, no matter their musical qualifications, their attempts at acting are pretty monotone. The youngest daughter of the French King who befriends Nannerl is particularly painful to watch. All her dialogue is delivered in the careful, slow and flat pace of someone being very careful to read the script properly and to treat it with respect, rather than actually talking like people normally do. Even her walking is rehearsed and stilted. The actress playing Nannerl, in contrast, is miles better, but I couldn’t really say she made a particularly engaging protagonist. And the almost insane intensity of the actor playing the Dauphin was disturbing to say the least.

Most unnerving though was the use of a handheld camera for every shot, While it does give the illusion of fly-on-the-wall, “cinema verite” kind of thing, it can be completely nauseating and pretty much is throughout the film. The constant motion also robs a lot of the scenes of any intensity they might have, as I found myself combatting motion sickness rather than concentrating on what was going on before me.

Of course, what was going on behind me was equally as distracting, with a couple related to the person who sat behind me in Thor holding a conversation-level volume discussion about the goings on in the movie before me. Being a subtitled film, it did seem a bit harder to demand silence from those others in attendance, but I was still not terribly impressed by their constant blathering, though luckily they seemed to run out of things to say after the first hour or so. I wonder if I will have another of their family behind me at my next movie?

Verdict: I cannot say that I like Mozart’s Sister. It certainly felt like it was nailing the reality of life in that era, so from a scene-setting sense it was very convincing, but the actual story and abysmal acting were completely unengaging and, adding in the unceasing motion of the camera, it all felt a lot like a school play filmed with the production values of a major motion picture. It’s perhaps a bit ungenerous to say it might have been a case of nepotism gone mad (and bad), but the credit list at the end of the movie definitely gave the impression that it was a family affair in the worst sense of the word. The supporting actors were actually pretty decent, but the main cast were flat, despite their apparent musical aptitude. 2 out of an octave.

The Case for Oil and Money

2011-05-07T15:25:00.004+12:00

I had a very informative day the other day. Not in a life lessons kind of way, not really, but more in the way that happens when you watch two different documentaries about two different topics, and your mind starts making relationships between them.

The two documentaries in question were: 1) A Crude Awakening: The Oil Crash, about the human civilisation's relationship to fossil fuels especially oil, a DVD loaned to my by a friend; and 2) Mind Over Money, a one hour documentary shown on the soon to be defunct TVNZ7 (only now at the end do I understand what this channel had to offer!) about one of the principles of economics, that people will react rationally.

On one level, both documentaries irritated me: the former because of the incessant and distracting soundtrack and the very sound-bite style of talking heads; the latter by its occasional gee-whiz kind of attitude. But, on many other levels, they really got me thinking about how much humankind has been influenced by both of these factors, and how hard it will be to change, no matter how much that might be necessary.

A Crude Awakening: The Oil Crash explored the past and the present of the need for oil - not the oil industry itself, which was perhaps both a blessing and a failure of the documentary. It stuck squarely to the supply and need for oil, and how the supply is running out while the need just keeps growing. I was surprised (perhaps showing my ignorance) by how the USA started off as a major supplier of oil (I suppose that is what the Beverley Hillbillies was all about), the Saudi Arabia of the time, and used that to grow their industry to such an extent that the local supplies were depleted and the need to secure off-shore supplies began. It was no surprise when the experts questioned cited oil as the main reason for intervention in the Gulf states (Lybia isn't a Gulf State, but it sure has heaps of oil, so were the documentary a little more recent, I am sure this would have been used as an example too), though I was a bit more skeptical about the claim that democracy is seen as a more secure political system under which to guarantee oil supply, when I would have thought a dictatorship far more malleable to foreign influence. It was also no surprise when the predicament the world now faces was explained: increasing demand for oil, especially in India and China; decreasing supplies of easy to find sources; the global economy built on the assumption of cheap oil and limitless supply; the lifestyle of the USA, predicated on the individual freedom granted by the products and services provided by oil, that is unsustainable in the face of the rest of the world, China and India in particular, racing to catch up; and the increasing militarism of oil, where the national interest of most Western nations is tied perhaps inextricably with the supply of oil, and so new ways of legitimising military intervention in sovereign nations ("for the sake of the human rights/democracy/stability of the region" etc) to ensure that supply is secured.

It's a pretty grim picture, but that picture was made grimmer by the Mind Over Money. Why? Well, this documentary pointed out that, given the choice between the quick and easy fix or the more sensible but longer term investment, individuals will go for quick and easy. Economic theory was apparently based on the fact people are inherently sensible, when in fact we all know we are all as mad an mongeese. Well, perhaps not that bad, but people do relish immediate gratification and are a bit selfish.

Hell, I know I am, but I do try and at least admit it to myself: for example, you might have noticed that I love to travel. Airline travel may be completely detrimental to the environment, but as much as I may appreciate the environment, there is no way I am giving up my flights abroad - and I don't tend to buy carbon credits as a way of off-setting that travel as, if I really cared that much about the environment, I reckon I just wouldn't travel at all. Long term, this is a terrible idea for a variety of reasons, and completely selfish on my part; short term, I love it and it is totally worth it.

And that underlying selfishness that, feeding back into A Crude Awakening: The Oil Crash, really highlighted the problem we have when discussing the oil issue. A Crude Awakening: The Oil Crash made a point of not really investigating the oil industry and what it is doing to combat either the growing oil shortage or the barriers to them getting access to oil. Chairpeople of the major companies, paid a pretty penny for their "Strategic Leadership" I am sure, were not questioned as to what their long term plans were or their corporate responsibilities were. The "green" BP advertisements from a while ago annoyed me more in the fact that the company was trying to portray itself as an environmental leader when, in fact, there is no evidence to show that it is trying to find an alternative to oil and, as shown in the Gulf of Mexico, when oil spills go wrong, there are massive consequences (as an aside: perhaps the spin doctors will see the depletion of oil reserves as a very positive thing for the environment, even as a the price of petrol sky rockets and civilisation as we know it ends).

As I previously mentioned, it's a very bleak picture painted by these documentaries, with A Crude Awakening: The Oil Crash pointing out the predicament in which human civilisation finds itself and Mind Over Money pointing out how humanity is probably completely unable psychologically to take the steps necessary to stop the oil crisis from happening.

Verdict: Well, what I gleaned from seeing these two documentaries so close together is that civilisation as we know it is basically screwed. The fact one of the interviewees in A Crude Awakening: The Oil Crash was filmed in front of his survivalist supply caches did a great job of emphasising his main message of doom. Hopefully the Chinese and Indians can get us out of this as, from the looks of it, the Western world has been grappling with this for decades and still does not have a clue. 2 hopes for the future out of 10.

The Case for Thor Day on Tuesday

2011-05-04T20:17:00.008+12:00

One lesson I should have learned from Thor: always carry a hammer. That way, one has a very handy projectile weapon to throw at people in the audience who may be the size of ice warriors but have the intelligence and emotional maturity of 12 year olds and who thus insist on stating what is happening on screen and commenting on all the action sequences, all in their normal speaking voice. Would that I had Thor's handy rage, and imposing physique, to sort someone like that out without a weapon in hand. Instead, all I did was sit and seethe.

Well no, I also did watch the film. And, even with Mr Irritating behind me, I quite enjoyed the film before me. It was sufficiently distracting.

It was a 3D screening, and while the earth-bound scenes were fairly normal looking, the 3D effects used in the other mystic realms of existence were spectacular. Asgard in particular looked stunning, inspiring and very heroic, if not exactly keeping to the laws of physics of this world.

Adding to the scenic beauty was a pretty attractive cast: the always gorgeous Natalie Portman plays an intelligent, headstrong, stunningly beautiful physicist who falls for Thor the instant she sees him without a shirt. Thor, played by Aussie Chris Hemsworth, is a fine specimen of manhood with an accent set on Received Pronunciation though there are many lapses where I am sure his American accent training comes through (he is miles better than Sam Worthington though). The other cast members are all attractive in their own ways too, and pretty good looking to boot: there are the familiar faces like Anthony Hopkins, Scandanavian Stellan Skarsgard and the little-used Rene Russo; and the less familiar faces like Tom Hiddleston as the wickedly helmeted Loki, and the awesome "Stringer Bell" Idris Elba as... some other character who is just very cool.

Less successful are Thor's group of godling buddies. That is perhaps an understatement: I am sure they are meant to be comic relief, but their scenes end up almost painful to watch. Cut these scenes out, and the movie would be tighter and shorter, and very little would be lost.

Those scenes notwithstanding, I can't claim the film moves at a terribly quick pace. While the extra-terrestrial scenes are all lovingly shot and move about ceaselessly, the scenes on Earth just seem to stumble around. A lot of money went into realising Asgard, but there didn't seem much left for anything else, with the local SHIELD regiment having to make do a giant hamster cage as their base of operations.

There are moments of humour, and while the characters have history, there is no real attempt at bringing anyone off the two-dimensional comic book page - only the images get that special treatment. But, reflecting on it after, how could I complain about that? I know nothing about the Marvel version of Thor, but the film portrays him as a god come to earth, sure of himself, on a quest to get back home. He isn't burdened with inner conflict nor turmoil, no murdered parents nor desire to be normal, no attempting to change the world nor overcoming a physical problem, and no alienation from normal society. Thor just... is.

So, taking that into consideration, I can see why it is getting fairly high ratings on IMDB. Thor is spectacularly stunning, intellectually undemanding film, with a strong current of anticipation as it all builds to the grand Avengers movie. There are plenty of weak spots, a few cameos (Lee and Strazynski, take a bow), a few chuckles, but plenty to treat the eyes. And a brief "post script" at the end of the movie if one waits around to see it.

Verdict: Thor aims squarely at the popcorn market, and hits its target with its mighty hammer. It is a mix of some great and gorgeous actors giving enough gravitas to a simplistic script to make it entertaining, with a pretty substantial special effects budget giving all the worlds involved an amazing look and feel. I am not sure what they could do for a Thor-alone sequel, but this movie passes the time. Just pray to Odin that you don't have an imbecile spouting distracting nonsense behind you - or that some hearty Nordic warrior will descend from Asgard to smite him. 7 Almighty Johnsons out of 10.