Richard Laxton's 'Grow Your Own'

Never ever heard of this film before a rental copy appeared in my living room, I suppose it wasn't that popular on release, although why I can't understand. I. Fucking. Loved. It.

First off the main role was Benedict Wong, a great actor and comedian, most known for his role as suicidist in Sunshine and of course, Errol in 15 Fifteen Stories High (if you haven't watched it, fuck off and watch it now, I command thou).

The title itself threw me off, it sounds too similar to one of the many bad Engcoms that get released every year. I know before I've tooted on about how some of the best comedies come from Britain, and that's not patriotism speaking there, I fucking hate this country, it's more from an analytical viewpoint. But I mean the ones just full of whacky characters, all set in middle-class quaint Britian, Love Actually for example.

In fact I want to quickly take a side-rant here. Is it only me who was absolutely cunting disgusted with what Richard Curtis put into the start of that film? Paraphrase: 'When the planes crashed into the two towers the people on the planes didn't send messages of hate on their phones, but of love.' An unforgivably despicable use of an event which has changed our world, and will no doubt reverberate for years to come. It's like saying Hitler wasn't wrong, just misunderstood. Cunt isn't strong enough to explain the revulsion I have for him. And yes, I understand it may seem a bit harsh to compare Curtis to Hitler but in fact yes, Richard Curtis is the filmic equivalent of Adolf, the poncey fuck faced dick shitting etc. etc.

Ahrum, back to the film. First off the setting. Like most Engcoms it's focused around a small community of people, all part of something quaint and fairly British, something most of us here can relate to, or know a degree about. In this case a set of allotments. Most of us might not have one or use one, but we know what they are, and we have an idea of the type of people who may have such hobbies. Plus since it's British we can't help but chuck in a bit of the old class warfare, social inequalities and immigrants.

In 'Grow Your Own's' case it's do to with immigrants and how they are perceived by the English, specifically ones of a fogey persuasion. The age group that are of the majority on an allotment. The premise of the film is that a governmental immigration group are helping out people with problems. How do they do this? By giving them a patch of land and letting them grow their own food as a hobby. The idea being, fresh air and working with your hands will help them mentally and give them a place of respite. They manage to get three different immigrant groups into the allotments in this film as well. A South African mother and son who's father is dead and are trying to get through it. An Iranian family who are in constant fear of being deported or sent to a detention centre. And then there's the core family, Benedict Wong and his two young children. All three have escaped from China for reasons I won't explain because it would ruin the most emotional scene in the film. Wong's character has broken down mentally after losing his wife and is incapable of doing anything by himself. His daughter has taken the role of parent and looks after her dad and younger brother.

There's the English trademark of complex romances, pathetic characters overshadowed by their fathers, unstable marriages and general unhappiness. An unhappiness which is somewhat relieved by their escape from the stress and depressing nature of day to day life in their 'plots of heaven'.

When the group of immigrants first come to the allotments the locals all team up, disgusted with the 'invasion' as they call it, and want rid of them. Not to mention generally being ignorant or rude to them. That is until all three groups start ingratiating themselves with the locals, showing them they have something to give back. Things take a more complex curve when a real horror of a woman comes from a phone company to install a telephone tower, and the locals have to decide which one of the three immigrant families has to lose their plot.

The comedy itself is sublime. It's never over the top, and the writers haven't tried to force jokes into every scene or sentence. I wouldn't say they're few and far between, but paced well enough to let the drama play without unbalancing it. Everyone has a story to tell and although several of the characters aren't too well drawn it doesn't matter as such, after all we're not interested in everyone on the allotments, only the core 8 or so characters.

Benedict Wong plays the most interesting of the three families. The play of emotion across his face gives you brief glimpses into the horror and fear he's suffered throughout his life, which is certainly handy since he speaks very little throughout the film. Also there's no flashbacks to help you understand his suffering, but that's because you really don't need it, his eyes say it all. It's remarkable how much emotion he can cram into each scene.

Like most small Engcoms there's a whole host of old and new famous Brit faces, something you'd rarely find in a American comedy, since they all demand high wages.

There's the old social commentary going on, not thrust in your face like a bad tea-bagging incident, but there to see if you want too. The chairman of the allotments was a policeman of 35 years. Yet despite being a supposed 'pillar of the community', he's a selfish, racist biggot, who wants his way or nothing at all. Each of the characters also seem to be hopelessly lonely, their day-to-day lives and marriages not giving them what they want from life. Even in the allotments there are divides between the characters, but when your plot is your bastion of self, it's not surprising why.

And the way it's shot, beautiful. It's somewhere between the lines of the grimey, odd angled shots from 15 Stories High (see, you need to go watch it) and a gritty BBC dramatisation of something or other. None of the houses that you briefly look into are Holly Oaks perfection, but much more how you're house would really look. The allotments also have that day to day feel, the sheds are cramped, dark, smeared with soil and generally, well, real.

Basically if I ever made a film, I hope it looked and worked like this one.

Dubbing

Dubbing, I fucking hate it. It ruins a film completely. I count it as being even worse than having a grandparent in your living room watching a film with you, asking you every two minutes if ‘that one there’ is the baddy, if it’s on video or television and, worst of all, what’s going on/what’s going to happen later on. That’s a walk in the park compared to a dubbed film, although if both are mixed together in my presence somebody will die….

The primary reason why foreign films get dubbed is because the distribution companies believe that the general populace are either; A) Too stupid to read or B) Don’t want to look at the funny writing at the bottom of the screen for most of the film. So, they get some voice talent in to jabber on top of the original dialogue, trimming and shortening sentences due to grammatical or spatial differences between the original language and the replacement. What you tend to up with after the cutting, chopping and squeezing of the dubbing is at least one of several problems.

Emotional Impact

First up is the lack of emotion transferred across languages. Part of an actor’s ability to act is the way their voice is projected. Big tough warrior=deep gruff voice. Somebody close to the protagonist dies, cue sad, soul wrenching, emotional stylies. Somebody gets a nasty shock, that typically means: yelping/screaming, high pitched tonal accentuation to their voice etc. This is what you lose in the cross over. The voice actor wasn’t there in the scene, they don’t have to physically get involved in the action on screen, they just watch it on the screen in the audio booth. So, try as they might, they just can’t get the emotional depth into their voices. Another is what I stated above, cutting and chopping. Say if in Russian an entire sentence of information or emotion can be expressed with a few words, somehow the voice actors have to cram the English equivalent in, which means speeding up their speech to fill the small gap, yet again losing the emotional impact. Check out any of the dubbed Jet Li films (Twin Warriors being a great example) and you’ll see what I mean.

Choice of Voice

This never, ever works. You ever watched the Simpsons in German? I plead you, go have a scout around on-line, it’s hilarious because the voices are so wrong for the parts. The same can be said for dubbed movies. The casting crew can never seem to get it right, the voices are too deep, too masculine/feminine/Americanised (yet again the soft spoken voice actor they normally use for Jet Li) etc. it’s rarely correct. Sometimes they grab famous actors to do the dubs (most of the major Studio Ghibli stuff, Steamboy et. al.) which really doesn’t improve things, because it still doesn’t work.
Miramax

Miramax, my long time enemy. Not only do they cut and paste films around to suit the American palate more (which in effect renders the point of the film useless) but they can’t abide the idea of subtitles. Do any of you remember Shaolin Soccer? The Stephen Chow film about kung fu football masters. The original film is somewhere near the 2 ½ hour mark. The Weinstein’s cut this down to about 1 ½ hours and got some talent to speak over the original. Fair enough they did get Stephen Chow to do his own English speaking voice-over, but they completely recked that film. Despite Miramax being one of the biggest importers of foreign films to the American market, they can’t let them be. When hero was released several years ago (a film that the Weinstein’s paid well over the amount they should since they thought it would be ‘the next crouching tiger’) it was ‘Presented by Quentin Tarantino’. What that essentially meant was that taratino asked them not to cut the film down, add voice overs, or do a single thing to change it from the original. As such it was subtitled, and was the full version. Which I thought was brilliant. The film would have been terrible if changed in any way. Although admittedly it made very little money in the box office, but rarely films do when released on the 26th of Dec, it’s a dead day for film releases.

Lip Synch

Is it just me that finds it disconcerting to see the actors on screen speaking out of synch with the voice artist? It’s damned off-putting.

Conclusion

The argument for dubbing is, of course, that it makes foreign films much more accessible to the general public, generating more revenue and making it easier to disperse it across the cinemas. But really that’s somewhat anathema to the film. Most foreign films don’t interest the populace because they can’t get over the cultural differences, un-Holly Wood plots or ideologies. If you really enjoy a foreign film then it’s because you want to see it exactly the same way the director wanted you to see it, voices and all.

3 Series Rule

3 Series Rule

This rule applies more to comedies than other form of television program, as such that's what I'm going to focus on for this little rant. The 3 Series Rule is quite simple, many sitcoms, sketch shows and mockumentaries don’t survive three series. By this I mean that either by the third round the show will either jump the shark (a phrase coined after an infamous episode of ‘Happy Days’ that means the show has become overtly ridiculous), or will lose sight of what originally made the show so damn good in the first place.

Gimme Gimme Gimme is a good example of the rule. Albeit a show lost in time and memory it was still extremely funny, or at least from my remembrance, 'There's no such thing as gay, it's just laziness'. I remember tuning in to see these two hapless protagonists scheme, drool and dick about after any man that was unfortunate to be written into that weeks episode. Gimme Gimme Gimme aspired to the classic underdog formula which has survived the decades and created many of the best comedies in the English lineage. However, by the third series the show lost it’s edge, the characters original charm had been lost. One critic I remember reading described the decline in quality being down to the show’s writers attempting to capitalise on what made the show so popular in the first place, stretching and milking it for all it was worth. Of course this saturation turned the fickle audience away and after series three it disappeared into the depths of static, only to be found now on DVD rather then repeated on any digital channel.

The same happened to Coupling, series three lost the chummy, sexually explicit yet socially acceptable banter it had generated over the first two series, and it turned into a farce of itself, being overly rude and deigning more and more ridiculous plots. And series four, lest said the better.

Aside from the writers trying to package and re-sell the original charm or humour of a show, another sure-fire to get your series dumped is too replace key characters (coupling again in S4) if they’ve left the show. After watching 12 or more episodes we’ve come to learn who these characters are and their overall impact on the show itself. Replacing them, especially with a character reminiscent of the one ‘that got away’, just feels odd. It’s like coming home to find the hamsters died and your mum’s replaced him with a parrot, it just doesn’t feel the same.

The plot or story itself is another problematic area for a third or subsequent series. With a now-set cast it’s difficult to introduce new characters into the fray, which means you have to re-cycle old gags, romantic ties between the main personalities of the show or, worse of all, change locations or situations. Look at friends, albeit hugely successful and astonishingly making it’s all the way to a 10th season, it became a somewhat inbreeders paradise. The six characters got together in a myriad of ways throughout the series. The show became introverted, obsessing over each of the six rather then bringing in many other new single use characters. I admit they still rocked up here and there, but with the constant flickering of romances, most especially whimpering prick Ross and vain, dull Rachel. Once you had Ross and Rachel together again along with Chandler and Monica that only left two other characters to look for romance outside of the circle. And that wouldn't do because they were the male and female 'comedy relief', which is I admit a strange phrase to use in a comedy.

The jokes themselves are another problem. The writers probably only expected a single series, so they chuck all their best gags into it, which of course turns it into a big hit, since laughs is the name of the game in comedy. So when they’re contracted to make a second series or more, they need to think up new jokes to keep the comedy going, only usually by the second or third series they’re more interested in the big fat paycheck they’ll get, rather than for reasons of love or care of the show. Although I should say here I’m not tarring every comedy writer with the same brush there, some do genuinely love the show they’ve created and nurtured. The Red Dwarf creators have been through hell and high water trying to secure money to continue making the show (series 8 had the same budget that Victoria Wood’s Dinnerladies had), and Graham Lineham did an impressive and surprising amount with Father Ted, which would of continued if it wasn't for 'Ted's' death.

Although many have fell on the wayside, some shows have stood up and broke through the barrier, in some cases making their best episodes in later series’: Red Dwarf made it to 8 series before getting the chuck; Only Fools and Horses, Black Books, Dinner Ladies, Bottom and others made a third series just as brilliant and fresh as their earlier ones. Last Of The Summer Wine has now been going for 24 fucking series! (Which also makes it the longest running comedy in the world).

On a special note I should mention Blackadder, a comedy which defied the norm in practically every way. Whereas normally we get a main character who is a nice character, or at least cheeky but loveable, Ben Elton gave us ‘Slack Bladder’. A character so cruel, spiteful and selfish you couldn’t help but cheer him on for success. Elton even survived the locational problem of comedies, filming each series in different timelines and surroundings. Although it kept the same core characters the situations had changed; from a soldier in the trenches, to a Elizabethan court hanger, to a prince’s butler, yet it was easy for us to follow the new plot of our anti-hero, (underdog formula of course). It’s also widely accepted and agreed that the final series ‘Black Adder Goes Fourth’ was the greatest and funniest of all four. Ben Elton, and grudingly I suppose I should also tip my hat to Richard Curtis did an impressive and unique thing.

As shown, there are exceptions to the rule, but that’s mainly down to the law of averages. Yet for every one survivor, many, many more succumb to themselves. Some shows are so constricted in their ideas, characters and plot that further episodes rend the original charm and quality null, the show devours itself, and a final series that is seen as bad, tarnishes the preceding ones. The sign of a good comedy writer is one that gets out while the going is good, Spaced, Black Books and The New Statesman among many others knew when their time was coming up, when the situation wasn't going to allow for much more. Besides which, changing up of a show allows for something new and different to appear. If we lived in a world of nothing but sequals it would be a shite world indeed.

Ben Elton

Got a suprise when i went into my local library this morning. After sifting through the Andy Mcnab's, Catherine Cookson's and Katie Price books in search of something worthwhile, I found a couple of Ben Elton's hiding away. I've always loved Elton's books, and I agree whole heartedly with 'High Society', his thinly veiled ideology on legalising every drug. It makes a lot of sense when you actually sit and mull it over, although you'll have to stop screaming 'think of the children' if you want it to sink in.

Anyway that's not what this entries for. I found one of his books, 'chart throb', a satirical story that delves into modern reality TV and, brilliantly, talent shows. The very thing i was ranting about last night, and Ben Elton has the same disgust of it as I do. Brilliant!

Although of course Elton doesn't have so much opinionated rabble rousing going on in his story as opposed to my blog entry, which makes his case against this schlock much more enjoyable to read then mine.

I'm only a fifth of the way through it so far, but by gum it's well written. If you're one that's into your media (either in hobby or profession) it discusses, quite candidly, a lot of the background of so called reality TV, and the amount of storyboarding and planning that goes into it.

A light-hearted critque on the arsehole that is simon cowell

Simon Cowell, a man who has single handedly destroyed out television and music industry more than peer too peer file sharing networks, albeit in a different way. This bastard has done it primarily by monopolising prime time TV and creating numerous ‘talent shows’. Yes, the terrible little shows that used to appear in a large town or a school fund raising event. The sort of thing you’d sit and watch with trepidation, grimacing at the parents of the talentless sods on stage as they glance around the audience to see the reception their child’s rendition of the minipops is getting. This, THIS is now prime-time family enjoyment, only the ‘entertainers’ are older and the money won’t go to charity or a kids skate park, but Simon fucking Cowell.

First off was pop idol, thousands of simpering sods who’d perform like chained bears for the perverse schadenfraude attitude of the general public. Grumpy Simon and the other judges, with no real explanation as to why they have the right to expel or recruit said members of the public. But they do, successfully culling anyone not above an 8 on the attractiveness scale, and anybody with an original vocal style (i.e. anybody who doesn’t sing in trans-Atlantic Aguilera warble style). After Pop Idol came the infinitely more popular X Factor. A damn near identical program that showed Cowell, the show’s producers and the viewing public are happy to make/watch template TV time and time again.

Last year I entered the X Factor for a laugh with some friends of mine, partially to get out mugs on TV (obviously in the really bad auditionies section) and also I wanted to see how the show and screening process was conducted. As unsurprising as it sounds it’s nothing like it looks on the small screen. The way it’s brought across on screen is that Simon cunt et. al. sit through and rigorously snigger, berate, ridicule and smash the dreams of contestant after contestant in a nice studio-esque surrounding.

Is it fuck! The first initial day of ‘casting’ consists of about 200-300 group singers (which, if you are stupid enough to apply to the X seriously I’d advise this route, it’s much cushier than being a solo singer) and 17,000 solo ‘artists’. All initial casting is done on the first day and first day alone where massive swaths of hopefuls are kicked out of the competition. As such it’s physically impossible for the 4 judges to see the entire population of a small town in one day, not to mention a logistical nightmare for a camera crew to record every single person and then scan through for the best applicants to go on the show. The judges do appear, indeed they do. For five minutes. For the camera. The real judging on the first day is delegated to less famous people who have the difficult challenge of getting a balance of actual quality singers and humdingers we can laugh at from the comfort of our heavily arse-indented sofas.

On the second day of auditioning even more people are swept away since the ‘off-air’ judges have more time to size them up. It’s not until the following weekend that our shiny faced, TV arsehole judges get a go at ripping those selected to shreds, in a modern day version of verbal scourging.

Admittedly the very ‘structure’ of the show itself has been well thought out. The show starts out with the auditions. We see the hopefuls have a go, with an occasional sob story chucked in if the film crew have been tipped off about a ‘contender’ by the off-air judges. In this technique the X Factor works like any famous British comedy since television started. The tale of the underdog attempting to leave their pitiful prole life, in dispersed with heart wrenching emotional scenes and outright comedy, maybe even a catchphrase or two (i.e. steptoe and son). We gleefully laugh at the tone-deaf, hyper-active, ugly or simply crap caricatures of humanity, before sitting back dewy-eyed at their wish to impress their dead relative/lover/friend (delete where appropriate) who recently died and who quite liked the song they decide to enter the audition with.

As time itself has shown, the mixture of heart-wrenching sadness and laugh-out-loud humour is one very successful technique to pull in the audience, and keep the buggers there. Yet there is another technique the X uses, or to be more precise, cranks up to 11. In fact it’s the very core of the show itself. Like the office, the mockumentary with Ricky ‘sphincter necklace’ Gervais, it’s the use of cringe. Although the difference is that the X is real, unlike the office. Shudder, at the women with the lopsided face, screeching out Robbie Williams ‘angels’, sounding like a hawk that’s found its prey. Gasp, at Cunty Cowell's derogatory comments to the woman whose husband died shortly after writing her song. Grimace, as the young lad tries to jig along with a track by N-sync, forgetting the lyrics as he twirls.

Yes the audition section of the show is by far and large one of the most face-scrunching events to shit all over our screens in many a year, even more so than that pussy sequence with Calloway. But we love it, it appeals to our schadenfraude aspect, in much the same way Cowell does. He’s a tosser, but because he’s so candid we can’t help but slow down as we walk past the telly, rubber necking it, wondering what’s he’s going to say next.

And through the car crash of humanity and its many delusions come striding our victors, the few of the many applicants that can sing and look ‘proper buff’ (to use a phrase I hear continually from people when commenting on these hopefuls). It does seem strange that beauty seems to bless those that can also sing like angels, odd that. Although saying this there have been a few 7 or lower on the lookers scale (some of them have been fat!) These oddities are there for two reasons 1) they are actually that good the rules are broken for them. And 2) because the judges didn’t fill up their quota of black or disabled people.

Due to the popularity of the introductory ‘car crash’ episodes people instinctively choose their favourite singer to win. Be it for aesthetics, vocal style, or because they seem more ‘real’ then the others, it’s something we can’t help. You watch something like the X and you instinctively ‘pick a side’, I’ve even caught myself doing it, and I fucking hate the X. As suck you start watching the competition section of the X factor, rooting for your singer (some people are even stupid enough to actually ring up). And if they get kicked out the contest? Doesn’t matter, no doubt you’ve already chosen a substitute, plus one of the singers you will no doubt of grown to dislike and as such will continue to watch to see if they get the boot too by the bastard firing line (judges).

Thanks to shows like pop idol and X fucker the other channels have now started rolling out their own variations on the theme, you can’t get away from them anymore. Fading now are the old gaudy quiz shows with the jolly old presenters who you’re sure must be popping off to the toilets as often as possible, the sort of quizzes that strode across Saturday night family enjoyment. Instead we’re handed pants like ‘strictly come wanking’, ‘Britain’s got twats’, goit is the word, ‘tosser with the camply bright coat’ and whatever other dregs are being scraped out of the barrel as of late.

In reality these talents shows are another extension and evolutionary branch of the Big Brother, I’m a Celeb etc. reality TV family. Which is a bit like having a flightless bird, but now we’ve got ones with 4 wings. Interesting, but pointless. And there’s definitely been some inbreeding along the way.

Another thing to take note is the effect these shows (and I’m mainly looking at you X Factor) have on the music industry. Back in ye olden days we would gripe, bitch and whine about manufactured bands. They didn’t have the real soul of music, they were made for monetary reasons, they’re just chosen for looks etc. etc. etc. but now. But FUCKING NOW we celebrate them, revere them, get them to the number one slot and keep the fuckers there, even if we’ve got to hold them against the wall by the throat. Betting company aren’t taking bets on the Christmas number one until 2010, when the X Factors current contract runs out. It’s hyperbole, what exactly have these people done to deserve our collective praise?

Sure, they’ve been on the telly, beaten other contestants to reach the final, but I bet you any rock group or non-royalty singer/band have struggled for years and years. Living on the bread line, facing refusal after refusal, and still able to collect enough energy to struggle upright and continue onwards. They deserve a lot more praise then any X factor winner. They’ve battled for 12 weeks? Fuck ‘em. Most bands have been going for years before they hit it big. Nickleback got it’s name from the lead singers job in Starbucks (here’s your nickel back). And how exactly do these winners contribute to the music industry? Their songs aren’t even theirs, either it’s royalty written, or covers of tracks from the year dot, that most people have forgotten of or never even heard of before. I give her dues Leona Lewis has song her own material, but I doubt she wrote most of it.

This annual celebration of mass-produced, user-friendly, accessible-branding, wholly mainstream sludge is trashing our music industry, a field widely regarded as unmatched for raw talent worldwide, which I’m sure is to change if this continues.

So as a plea from someone who loves what our TV and Music was. Fuck off Cowell and give us back our individuality, your greed is destroying what most hold dear.

You cunt.

how tv works

DEVELOPMENT HEAD: Right, we need a new prime time TV show since X Factor's finished. Anybody got any ideas?

DEVELOPMENT URCHIN: I've got one for you boss.

HEAD: Alright then, lets lay the sandwich and see if the snake bites (or whatever fucking bollocks business types use instead of real English nowadays).

URCHIN: Right its basis is around parents' whose children have recently died. We get them to perform poems and memorandums that they've written for their dead kids in front of an audience. Obviously we'd have the sob story before each contestant, how the kids died, lots of piano music, teary close ups, that sort of thing.

HEAD: This is sounding a bit.....

URCHIN: Ah ha, that's not all though. During the parents 'act' on stage the audience can buzz them off if they think it's crap, based on a majority vote. The parent with the best performance gets through to the next round. This way there's an element of competition, the public always loves that, it gives them a chance to pick their favourite griever. Eventually the winner gets a publishing contract, maybe even a film based on their child's death, if we can swing it with the Film 4 that is. They'll do any old shit.

HEAD: That sounds horrible, we can't do that!

URCHIN: But....

HEAD: No.

URCHIN: Wha-

HEAD: No, and that's final.

URCHIN:..................................

HEAD:..................................

URCHIN:......................

HEAD:......................

URCHIN:...........

HEAD:...........

URCHIN: What if we get Simon Cowell to be a judge that calls the contestants cunts?

HEAD: ..........Simon Cowell you say?

URCHIN: *grinning* Yep.

HEAD:................
..................
.............
........
....
..
.
I love it!




I give it three years....

things to smoke too

An interesting title I admit, for something that probably only me finds interesting. There are some programs/films out there you can't help but light up whilst watching, normally because the characters themselves are puffing away scene after scene. I suppose if you want to get arsey about modern day television you could go on and on about this being a hypodermic model, that us bloated saggy proles sit and stare into the TV and do whatever it commands. Therefore, they smoke, we smoke. Monkey see, monkey do. But really it's because when you're a smoker you can't help but light up when someone else does, it's the sense of camaraderie. I doubt anybody picked up the habit of smoking after watching Robert Webb cough up phlegm then sickly swallow it back down in The Smoking Room. Anyways, my list so far is:

1. The Smoking Room: Self explanatory really, every character has a ciggy on the go, sucking away and discussing....chit chat. If you got the dvd thats 4 hours of people smoking practically non-stop. You find you probably smoke more whilst watching this show then you would normally.

2. Ideal: Pretty much same again. Although it's mainly weed smoked in this comedy, cigarettes are always a good alternative. Besides which smoking weed whilst watching Ideal would probably be a very bad idea, it's spaced out and odd enough without dope screwing your head up.

3. Betty Blue: Fuck me! How many fags did they get through in this film? The actors must of had emphysema's by the end. Every scene has someone, usually both the central characters, enjoying a smoke. It seems that everyone in France is quite willing to die young to look artistic.

4. Angel-a: Smoking, it does seem to be a French thing, perhaps a throwback from their stunning film noir era. Angela is always striking up in this film by famous French director Luc Besson. Mind you why not, she can't die after all.

5. Human Traffic - Along with casual references to hardcore drugs, sex and many many hip cool phrases, it's full of smoking. All of the main characters are smokers, with Danny Dyer being the most extreme one, puffing away in taxis, the bogs or whilst having a wank. In fact it's not just the main characters, everyone in the background is smoking like buggery too, count the number of ciggy boxes if you can. The only problem I have with this film is pure envy, they're all sitting in a pub smoking. It's been so long it feels like we never were allowed to do so.

Red Caps

Not as such a movie review, more an opinion post. In fact this'll be the first opinion post on here since I started it. And since my title does say reviews and opinions i should really put one up. This post is a review on shit films and they're titles, specifically red cap films.

By red cap films I mean any movie who's title is emblazoned across the posters in simple arial font, all in caps and coloured red, occasionally in a 3d effect, but more than usually not. There's a whole host of these films coming out, multiples of the bastards every year. Most of the time they include at least one member of the American 'frat pack' (Adam Sandler, Owen Wilson, Vince Vaughn, Ben Stiller et. al), or as I like to call them, the one trick ponies. This constant shlock of crass, childish humour erupts into our cinemas, sucked up by idiots in their hundreds of thousands who seem to believe these are good, funny films. Not to say crude humour can't be good, but it depends how you wield it. Having somebodies severed foreskin fall into somebodies soup for example, isn't particularly funny. Whereas in Peter Greenaway's 'The Cook, the Thief, His Wife and Her Lover', Michael Gambon's character is so rude and disgusting, but it's executed perfectly, making it much funnier than Adam Sandler getting kicked in the nuts by a dwarf, or whatever.

American Pie. when that film came out I loved it, thought it was brilliant. But in the years that followed I found the jokes less and less funny, although it could still be said to be a measure post of how to make a funny red cap film, it's much better than most of the stuff that has come out following in recent years. It's a shame they spoilt it with sequel after sequel, spin off after spin off. The jokes were rude, the situations were ridiculous, but there was an underlying reason as to why it was funny. These were kids soon to graduate wanting to get their rocks off, and although arguably a bit too old to just be discovering sex as the film portrays, there was a basis. In the films of new; Big Daddy, Anger Management, Chuck and Larry blah blah blah it's just rude for the hell of it. As soon as it nears summer these filmed are crapped all over the television, internet etc. Usually with Adam Sandler on the front, playing the repetitive likable but flawed goon, Will Ferrel playing one of his million identical different characters, Ben Stiller attempting an almost Graham Chapman feeling of seriousness despite the surrounding situation (albeit badly), Vince Vaughn generally being an arse and Owen Wilson playing the simpering, nice and somewhat camp, Texan.

Blurgh, I don't want to see these characters doing the same old same old, over and over again in different films, in fact I don't want to see them at all. I don't agree with pirating films, it destroys diversity in films. But if there were any films that should only be sold as pirated copies it would be these red caps, just so the actors would get sweet f.a. and hopefully fuck off into the night. Attached to this post there is a list of some red cap films. Most of you out there would argue with me and say they were genuinely funny films and that I'm a bloated twat with illusions that I know what's best. The latter may be true, but. These. Aren't. Funny.

Also note I'm not singling out these films alone, there's too many out there for me to stick on this list. Also some of the frat pack et. al have gone without a full red cap title for their films, 50 First Dates as an example. Don't fall for it, they're the same as all the others, shit.

silver screen

a long long loooong time ago i came back from the cinema fuming at all the idiots sharing the room with me. i'm not sure why i even go to cinemas, i tend to spend more time thinking about how to seriously hurt somebody using the snacks i've bought (straw rammed down the ear, popcorn forced into their eyeballs etc.) then concentrating on the film. in one case telling a 6 1/2 foot monkey to shut up during children of men which nearly got me going home folded up in the cars glove box. anyway after seeing whatever film it was i went home and wrote these silver screen rules out.

1. if you feel the need to eat sweets during a film, don't bring single wrapped sweets or anything in a plastic packet. you might not find the noise irritating, but the 6 or so surrounding seats will

2. don't bring your children, they won't be interested and will just irritate everyone else

3. seats = sitting, not kicking

4. if you really aren't enjoying the film and are waiting for the credits to start rolling so you can loudly declare 'this is the biggest waste of my money', don't. simply get up and walk out. people will love you more.

5. everyone hates a fidigter, just don't. sit on your hands if you have too. hell eat them for all i care. just. don't. move.

6. there's nearly half an hour of trailers for shampoo and cars before the start of the film, can't you turn your mobile off then?

7. don't talk, just shut up. if you really need to talk, why come to the cinema? (trailers excluded, jabber away all you want)

8. you might think the comments you snigger away to your friends during the film make you clever, insightful and witty, really you're just a loud mouth berk.

9. when getting into the cinema late be concious of other around you. or, to be less of an irritation, get there on time.

10. if you've solved the plot of think you've alraedy got the films twist, keep it to yourself. your friends won't like you more for telling them, quite the opposite. instead allow yourself a self-satisfied smile if you're right. smiles don't make noise

and as a bit of self-whoring, here's an image i shopped up from scratch to do with the rules. better quality image can be found on my sister site here.

ha, i lied. actually it's here

HSA loony

another advert, another insane women. this time it's HSA's turn to mock the mental stability of the female gender. advert plot: women sitting in her car with husband and children, wondering about their health problems, now and in the future. each time she makes a comment about a family member and their well being her little sock puppet pops up and talks to her saying, 'hey, just say'. clearly a sign of insanity. she's oblivious to the fact it's her SODDING HAND that's talking to her, it's all perfectly normal. maybe you should add 'psychiatric wellbeing' to your list of health problems me dear.

the rise of mentaly unbalanced women in adverts can mean only one of a few things. 1) there's a lot of mysoginistic men out there in advertising land. 2) this is revenge for the 'men are all cocks' campaign that's been going on in the last year or two (see charlie brooker for more details). or 3), women are really all insane and adverts are starting to admit this.

joel schumacher's '8mm'

i first saw (most of this film) when i was about 13. i had recently been given my first tv for my birthday and so i spent most nights in my bedroom trawling the channels until the early hours of the morning. typically ending up on bravo hoping to find some soft core porn. i discovered 8mm on channel 4 (mainly because bravo was broadcasting some car program instead of large silicon breasted women performing simulated sex). and the memory of this film has stayed with me since. discovering the urban myth of snuff followed by raw visceral imagery certainly leaves an impression on you, espcially when you've only recently learnt that a lesbian isn't a type of cat like i had suspected (thanks for the info bravo).

i should perhaps mention that snuff is seen as the most extreme of fetishes, shrouded in mystery and commonly believed to be an urban myth. it's main premise being to rape a woman then slaughter her on camera. cheery no?

now, i don't like nicholas cage. it's not that he's a bad character actor, it's just that he can only play one character, nicholas cage. also whenever he has a go at being funny it's more embarrasing and cringe worthy then humourous. case in point, his gags in 'gone in 60 seconds'. this places him in my personal table of 'unfuny and unbendingly singular character actors' up there with adam sandler and keanu 'if i had two more legs i'd be a table' reeves. although in defense cage and sandler have both performed in good indie films where they've managed to break away from their pidgeon-holed hollywood existance. 'punch drunk love' in sandler's case and 'adaptation' (an ironic name) in cage's. anyway back to the title of this, so far ranting, blog, 8mm.

as, painstakingly, detailed above i don't like cage, but this is one of his rare gems, probably in part because the script writer didn't give him any 'funnies' to say. not that this is a comedy, in fact it's one of the darkest films to come out of hollywood. the story focuses around a rich women who finds a snuff film in her recently deceased husband's stash and sends private detective cage off to see if the film is real and whether or not the victim truly died. as such cage embarks to discover the truth, during which he learns of the darker side of human sexuality. as such there is a fair amount of graphic imagery and background props throughout the film. from; asphyxiation, mutilation, enemas, bondage, rape, peadophilia and of course the core of the film, snuff.

cage's character evolves through the film. the first time he watches the 8mm film he can barely stomach it, constantly averting his eyes in revulsion. however the more he watches it for his investigation the more relaxed he becomes, despite the increasing concern that the film may be real. in one scene cage is sitting on his hotel bed, smoking and on the phone to his wife while the 8mm loops itself in front of him. it's not as such that he comes to enjoy or even except this extremism of sex, that would be an entirely different film and would never of been released, but he becomes acclimatized to it. it doesn't effect him as much as it would of before.

we also see that it starts to affect certain aspects of his character, something joaqeen's....whackeee....pheonix's character picks up on. after both returning from a search through the darkest bowels of the sex markets pheonix asks cage if the stuff he saw turned him on. to which he denies most strongly. but it's countered when pheonix points out that it didn't exactly turn him off either, a strong suggestion as to how cage is changing.

later on we can see how cage has changed. when he returns to new york for his revenge , he asks the mum of the deceased girl if she wants him to kill the men who slaughtered her daughter. he starts off asking her for her consent, a yes or no, then swiftly changing to ask if she loved her daughter. when the mum obviously answers yes he also takes it as consent to murder the, i suppose we could call them, perverts. but it's not just for the mum, and it's not because of his strong moral ethic either, that's been broken down from what he's been exposed too. he's also doing it for pure near sexual pleasure.

in the final shot of the film when cage is clearing leaves off his lawn he looks up to meet the eyes of his wife. we can see how haunted he looks, he's tasted forbidden fruit and it'll stay with him for the rest of his life.

one of the touches in the film i really liked was when machine removes the gimp mask and we finally see his face. and what do we encounter? the monster is a balding middle age man who you wouldn't think twice of if you passed him in the street. he admits he wasn't disturbed as a child and he's not mentally degenerate, he just loves to hurt people. and if you ask me, that's a fucking terrifying idea!

so in the sum-up, a well crafted film, very dark and atmospheric, the mise-en-scene gritty throughout, to reflect the depravity people can sink down too. not on par, or even really close, in disturbing cinematography of the likes of irreversible, but certainly one to watch if you want to see the sort of things hollywood can occasionaly bring to fruitiion. also need a special mention for using come to daddy by aphex twin, a classy song that fits the scenes in the film perfectly. one of only gripes with the film, except that it has cage in it, was that they should of gone with their first choice of director, david fincher. sorry schumacher but i can't help imagine how much astonishing this would of been with the man behind se7en, zodiac and fight club directing it.

coming soon, not a clue! it could be fear and loathing in las vegas, it could be a hitchcock, it depends which one i pull off my shelf first.