The Case for Voce Populus

Last night, I took part in a phone survey. When I am not dashing out the door, I actually have a soft spot for those questing for the opinions of others and so tend to take the time to complete their structured questionnaire, though I do make a note of the “expected” time it takes to complete the survey and the “actual”.

As terrible as the phone line was (the person conducting the interview sounded like a Kiwi, though Colmar Brunton may be outsourcing their information gathering arm to the rising terminal part of the Philippines), I stuck with it, and was actually surprised when it turned out when it appeared that this survey was one of those political polls. Normally, I just get marketing and petrol companies asking me if Techron sounds more impressive than Yaksurine.

With that realisation, I decided not to hold back and pushed the leftopinkocommo agenda. Well, at first I tried to give more measured response to the economic questions that came my way, but these polls only measure yes and no, not the actual complexity of some of the realities of the issues involved. So, after unsuccessfully giving the questions due consideration, I belted out gut-reaction yes and no responses – and as a fairly cynical person, most of my reactions were quite negative.

One of the most satisfying sensations after completing a survey like this is the almost palpable sense of relief that emanates from the other end of the phone, as the conductor audibly sighs with the satisfaction of another tally mark in a sample size being struck off. And it only ran two minutes over the expected time too, which was a pleasant surprise.

The next step is how these responses will translate into one of the “voices of the people”. The ONE News or TV3 poll may suddenly show: an upswing in support for treason charges to be levelled at Fay Richwhite; the North Island will surrender to the South, and the new national flag will reflect the pre-eminence of the larger land mass; and Daniel Carter will come out of nowhere to be the preferred Prime Minister – imagine how far New Zealand’s plans for global domination would get if the man showed up to international conferences attired only in his well-fitting underwear, with Zoe Bell bringing along added intimidating muscle as a no-nonsense and easily riled Ministress of Defence?

Verdict: While it may be nice to feel like I am contributing a mildly deranged few words to the voice of the people, the real satisfaction from participating in these telephonic surveys is the sense that I have made someone else’s day just that little bit easier. Of course, they will report that New Zealand is on the verge of a communist revolution, but at least it will brighten Alison Mau’s day. 4 warm glows out of 5.

Aside 1: now that I have come to write it, the prospect of a ruling elite composed of sporting and ex pat movie stars has all sorts of fantastical possibilities, and would definitely push minorities into the forefront of New Zealand politics. Feel free to let me know your unqualified cabinet if you are similarly tickled.

Aside 2: after my post about national days, it seems the French are trying to encourage more patriotic fervour now – see the link.

The Case for Norse Love

It is rare that I go to a movie that I have heard or read almost nothing about, but with the main cineplexes offering fare that I had either seen, was not on at the right time, or was (in my opinion anyway) drivel, I turned to the Paramount, saw a write up that looked interesting, and plunged into a world of Norwegian relationships – or, at least, one of them.

Gone with the Woman (take a wild guess at what the poster for the film looks like) is described as a Nordic Amelie, though I think this is mainly a fairly lazy comparison to attract an English audience to a subtitled film, as the story telling is a lot more straightforward, if still oddball, and so could really be described as a romantic comedy – and even as I write that, I can see why the Paramount publicity machine did not. It’s about a mildly eccentric man who finds himself in a relationship with a fairly eccentric woman, and follows the development of that relationship across time, the country and the continent.

And it is amusing. An older gentleman, who (I think) spoke Norwegian as he seemed to get the jokes before the subtitles appeared on screen, found the film hilariously funny; whereas I found myself smiling on many occasions but not at the point of bursting into laughter. It is hard not to like the bug-eyed lead, described as "Him" on IMDB, who seems perpetually perplexed by the ways of women and of relationships and of life in general, and his nemesis/lover Marianne is charming and tangential in an occasionally infuriating, redheaded way. Of course, that is the male perspective of their personalities, and perhaps the NotKate has a completely opposite view.

While the opening scenes gave me a false idea of how well I could follow Norwegian (the t-shirts and labels and brief utterances were fairly easy to follow), I quickly lost my way when real dialogue began. I was surprised to recognise one of Him’s buddies, until I realised I had seen him in a Scandanavian film fairly recently: the awesome World War 2 epic Black Book by Paul Verhoven. Norway itself seemed a very cold place to be, no matter the season, though to be honest, the film was not really going for an Oscar for cinematography, so there were not that many scenes that glamourised the countryside anyway.

As this is a rom-com, there are all sorts of coincidences and chance encounters that lead to awkward situations and romantic liaisons, the characters all have idiosyncratic foibles, and most scenes are played for laughs rather than for emotional depth. But this is definitely a story from a guy’s perspective, with women shown as baffling and flighty creatures, and, for Him anyway (perhaps due to his swimming-toned physique), very direct.

It seemed a much longer film than the 90 minute running time – not in a bad way, just in a scenes-are-short-and-a –lot-happens way – so I definitely felt I got my money’s worth, though I chose not to try and re-traumatise the person from whom I purchased the ticket to the movie by having a fairly random conversation with her again about the merits of the film. I didn’t come out with any grand revelations about life or relationships, but definitely had an epiphany about the wonders of Norwegian cinema.

Verdict: If you like romantic comedies and don’t mind reading a lot, Gone with the Woman is definitely worth your while. It is definitely shown more from a man’s perspective (though whether that is from what a woman thinks a man’s perspective is or whether it is actually a man’s perspective makes my small brain hurt), but it is daft enough that nobody will mind and the film can just be enjoyed instead. 7.5 tara-ta-tas out of 10.

The Case for a National Weekend, Locally

Wellington in the days preceding Waitangi Day is an incredible place to be, alive with excitement, anticipation and enthusiasm. But not for Waitangi Day of course. The bulk of the energy has been stored and saved all year for the International Rugby Sevens, and Waitangi weekend is when all that thrift gets rewarded in spades – and probably a huge amount of alcohol.

Waitangi Day on the other hand is a more sombre affair. It is a call to reflect on what New Zealand is. For some, New Zealand is a sign of European oppression (here's a Stuff opinion piece on this subject - kind of); for others, New Zealand is a flag which is too similar to the ensigns of others (the NZ Herald has a lot of articles on this here); and for others (and dare I say the majority), it is a day off – though this year, the day falls on a weekend, so it doesn’t even have the public holiday aspect going for it.

While I could choose to see the arguments about the flag and about the rights of Maori or the complete antipathy about these as negative, I choose instead to see them as a sign of maturity, as we try and address issues which few other nations are willing or capable of doing. The USA may be all bombast on the Fourth of July, but there are huge social issues there, notwithstanding the treatment of the Native Americans; and the UK may be the home of the Anglo Saxon, but there are Welsh and Scot independence movements and of course issues between cultures caused by the large immigrant legacy from the glorious days of empire. In contrast, the French decree all citizens to be French, and expect them to behave accordingly, no matter their ethnic origins.

New Zealand at least tries to address it, and the apparent ambivalence to the national day could be viewed as a reflection of a fairly considered view of the mixed message of nationhood: we are all together one, no matter how much of our own blood we spilled to get here. There are no huge parades and fireworks displays because New Zealand is aware of the historic price paid to forge a country, perhaps more than any other that tries to bury the fractures that created – and are still in – their society. New Zealanders get lost instead in events that have no historical intellectual baggage, celebrating the trivial because it’s hard to celebrate the meaningful when so much of that meaning can be interpreted in different ways.

It’s unfortunate when so much discourse on the nature of New Zealand nationhood ends up in calls of racism on the sides involved – unfortunate in that, as the discussion tends to be based along ethnic lines, then it really goes without saying that the discussions will be based on race. It’s a silly, childish kind of cat call that shuts down real discussion as people get hung up on the word rather than addressing (and in the case of real prejudice, dismissing) the issues raised.

Again though, I choose to see the fact New Zealand does find a “New Zealand Day” a hard thing to celebrate as a positive thing. It is taking a while to get there, but then it is a very complicated thing to achieve. We can get behind our dead soldiers, but it’s much harder to get behind – and alongside – those we share this country with. We want our New Zealand day to mean not just something for all people, but a something that everyone can be proud of and participate in.

Verdict: Waitangi Day may be the national day, but the Sevens are what it is all about. For now anyway. 3 stars out of 4 for positivity’s sake.

The Case for Cinema Italiano

I was a bit wary of going to Nine, but then there were a few reasons to give it a whirl:

1) (and most important) someone else invited me
2) The screening was at the Embassy
3) It was cheapskate Tuesday night, and we got leather seats as well
4) Sophia Loren
5) Judi Dench
6) Marion Cotillard
7) Italian locations
8) Italian cars from the 1960s
9) Italian fashion from the 1960s

And now, to give the reasons why the film was a real disappointment.

Oddly enough, the main complaint I had about it all was how dull it was. The songs are really quite bland, with only Fergie’s vocal power lifting “Be Italian” above all the fairly forgettable rest (though more on “Cinema Italiano” soon), and the story itself is fairly minimalist, about a cinematic writer/director (Daniel Day Lewis) searching for inspiration for his latest production from the nine “muses” in his life.

I can’t blame the actors for it all: Day Lewis may be annoying as Guido, but I think he is supposed to be; and Judi Dench and Penelope Cruz make even breathing interesting, so it’s not their fault. Acting wise, the real star is Marion Cotillard, who shines above even these incredible actors in her role as Guido’s wife, and she sings very well too.

The real blame I lay at the feet (oddly enough) of the director. For a film about the making of a movie, Nine sticks squarely to its stage roots, which is a huge shame considering what could have been done with some of the musical numbers. Only “Cinema Italiano”, sung with a huge amount of energy by Kate Hudson, uses the medium to any real effect. Nicole Kidman acts “cold elegance”, as I am sure she was supposed to, and so once again lacks real spark (she had it once in To Die For, I am sure, and a bit in Dogville too).

And then there is poor Sophia Loren, who is not given a lot to do, and whenever she does appear on screen, she is shot from such unflattering angles as to look like a female Frankenstein monster, all wrinkled lines and snarling lips. It’s a wonder the kids around her don’t run away in terror rather than to her for maternal comfort. Her final scene, staring down over a balcony, makes her look more like a vindictive harpy from the upcoming Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief than an image of parental approval.

I think this kind of inattention and lack of flair in a film tends to draw the cliché that it is “by the numbers”, ironic possibly given the film’s title. But then, I was probably not in the target audience, considering we also got an almost offensive trailer for Sex and the City 2 that made the first film seem like the work of Proust. The film not aiming for my demographic bulls-eye was further confirmed when a woman next to me found almost every utterance extraordinarily amusing and chortled her way through almost every non-sad scene with a mixture of snorts and guffaws that had me about to reach for an Italian stiletto shoe upon which to impale her. However, she was still alive by the end of the film though, as my mind, in an act of self preservation, slipped into a mild catatonic state at one point until Marion Cotillard showed up to revive me once more.

Verdict: The flaws in the original stage musical of Nine may have been obscured by an incredible cast, but they are still there just beneath the surface, and indeed exacerbated with a lack of cinematic style. Disappointing. 3 muses out of 9.

The Case for Whiplash

Drew Barrymore, director. From pre-pubescent acting sensation to wild child to wholesome actor to savvy producer, the next step was inevitably going to be, I suppose, the director’s chair. And she kicked off this new stage in her career with Whip It, a film where a young Ellen Page, plays Bliss, an unpregnant Juno character, who finds herself in the wild womanly sport of roller derby.

Barrymore has lined up a lot of fearsome and fantastic female talent to assist her: beside Page, Juliette Lewis is back and badder than ever (whence did she go? And for what purpose? Whatever the reason, it’s just good to have her slurry speech and wonky smile back on screen after so long off my movie radar), and there is the wonderful Kristin Wiig playing Bliss’s mentor (though she is much more fun playing unbalanced, as she did in Knocked Up). Other dropped names are Marcia Gay Harden as the demanding Mum with a heart of stone-flecked gold, Zoe Bell as a super-buff Kiwi team mate (her solid and femininely muscular frame makes the local Americans look like flaccid stick insects) and Eve as the “token black” team member. On the male side, Andrew Wilson (any relation? He definitely acts like one!) shows up as an unhip hippy coach dedicated to the game and not to chasing skirt, while Jimmy Farrell plays the roller ringmaster and gets a few funny lines in while suffering constant rejection from the roller skating ladies.

It’s a very girly movie, which I kind of guessed from the previews (and from the NotKate saying she was keen to see a chick flick), but it’s fun nonetheless. More interesting is the way the roller derby is portrayed. In the USA, or at least in Texas, it seems that the crowd mainly consists of young alpha males yearning to see tough women with imposing names trip each other up and hurling abuse at each other in gloomy underground contests being run on the shy side of the law – though anyone under 22 needs parental permission to participate. Contrast this with the Wellington event I attended earlier this year, held in a clean, well lit events centre with a predominately female (and not altogether straight) crowd egging on the battling beauties and basically ignoring the inane banter on offer from the local commentators.

So it’s a fairly straight-laced version of the game and of life, even as it tries to be alternative. The plot does not demand a huge amount of brain power to understand, and, much like the roller derby course, you can see any bends in the path at fairly predictable and regular intervals. That said, the star wattage on display here – even with a token Drew Barrymore role that probably looked like lots of fun on paper but is actually quite annoying on film – makes up for what the plot and pacing themselves lack.

Verdict: Whip It is fairly easy fare for everyone to watch. Undemanding, not saccharinely sweet and sentimental, and also without a disgustingly syrupy love story (or one hundred, unlike the nauseating trailer for Valentine’s Day), this is a decent chick flick that more sports mad men can enjoy – if not necessarily love – as well. 13 whips out of 22.

The Case for Sad News

Considering how much I detest the “serious” television news services – who can’t even say “Port-au-Prince” properly – you can imagine how completely eviscerated I felt when C4 told me the following:

Subject: RE: C4 Feedback
Date: Thu, 28 Jan 2010 19:50:00 +1300
From: replies@mediaworks.co.nz
To: judge&jury

Thank you for your enquiry regarding C4 and The Daily Show.

After much consideration C4 has decided not to pick up The Daily show for 2010.

Due to the financial constraints placed on C4, we have decided to prioritise and focus on the Peak Programming. 2010 will see C4 return with All New Episodes of American Dad, South Park, 30 Rock, The Office, How I Met Your Mother and many more returning favourites plus new shows Heroes, Dollhouse, Rock Of Love, Melrose Place and The Cleveland Show just to name a few.

Whilst we understand your disappointment regarding The Daily Show, we hope you continue to enjoy C4's Programming in 2010.

Kind regards,
C4


Verdict. And I cried (though I did appreciate the use of the word "whilst"). 0 days our of 4.

The Case for Air Points

Combine the roguish charm of the effortlessly charming George Clooney with the talent and skill of the director responsible for Juno and what do you get? You get Up in the Air, which is a good film, but which pales in comparison with Juno and Clooney’s last effort, last week’s Fantastic Mr Fox.

The film follows Clooney’s character Ryan hitting the road (or the sky, hence the title) for a few months, and recalling his encounters with gorgeous fellow jet setters (Vera Farmiga’s Alex is completely captivating) and more homely relatives (such as a Kiwi nod to Melanie Lynskey as Ruan’s sister Julie there), as well as workmates (an all-business Jason Bateman) and those he is expected to fire. Ryan as a role that, if not written for Clooney, is hard to imagine in the thespian hands of anyone else. He has the affable demeanour yet underlying hard edge that the role requires – it is interesting to compare his own cool charm kiss with that of his associate.

To me, Ryan has a strange “only in America” kind of job: he gets to fire people for bosses who are too cowardly to do it themselves. And in the recent recession, the business was booming. Luckily, Ryan loves it – or rather, the lifestyle that comes with it. But as befits this kind of movie, this lifestyle comes into question when he gets pregnant. Actually, that was the other movie.

Juno was a lot funnier than this one, and there were some very deep moments – I have never had more respect for Jennifer Garner than I had after I saw that film. Up in the Air manages to be funny at times and quite poignant too (especially for we older, single folk), but never quite reaches the heights and depths of Jason Reitman’s first film. Its not for lack of star power – the film’s cast members are all fantastic (J K Simmons gets a small role) – but the subject matter just doesn’t lend itself as easily to fish-out-of-water situations and extreme reactions. The moments are smaller, the emotions several notches below hysterical.

Which is all to say that Up in the Air is good, just not a great or ground breaking film. It certainly kept me entertained for the two hour duration, and spoke to me at times of my own experiences and the differing priorities people have at different times of their lives.

I would like to say more about that, but I don’t want to wander into spoiler territory. The ending will, by anti-spoiler necessity, have to remain an undiscussed country. Suffice to say that Ryan and Julie do not end up on their back porch singing.

Verdict: Up in the Air is a fun, entertaining, and at times quite challenging (in a belief way, not a “why am I sitting through this” kind of way), and definitely worth a view. It does not need big screen treatment, but should make a great evening’s movie choice for those who don’t mind a healthy does of cynicism mixed in among their sugar. 8,000 airpoints out of 10,000.