A trio of films about women in trouble and other musings

I saw a few films this weekend. I know, what's new there eh? This time however, they formed a nice little marathon together. The films; Persona, Vertigo, Mulholland Drive. The theme; women in trouble.

I hadn't planned to watch these all together. I had tickets to the BFI screening of Mulholland Drive booked for the Sunday, which had been planned yonks ago. Friday daytime, I had been listening to a Max Von Sydow interview on Radio 4, in promotion for the very oddly Best Picture nominated Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close. Of course, the conversation turned quickly to more interesting matters (read Bergman), which reminded me that I still had a DVD of Persona on my bookshelf which I had received for my birthday two years ago (I had meant to watch it sooner, honest guv). Seeing as it is my birthday in less than a week, I thought that, after getting home from work, I'd get a couple of brieres in and knuckle through it. Then, after that, I wasn't quite sleepy enough to go to bed, so I cracked open the Hitchcock boxset I had received for my birthday three years ago (I had meant to watch more of it sooner, honest guv) and stuck Vertigo in. What wonderful luck it turned out to be! So much influence, theme and content is shared by these three, that I would definitely recommend watching them in close proximity.

All three of these films are heralded as masterpieces and regularly chart highly in those wonderful lists ranking subjective greatness in cinema, so let's get somethings out of the way quickly. There is only one masterpiece in this group. Out of the two remaining, there is only one great film that fails admirably by its own ambitions. The final film unfortunately is not up to the standards set by the other two, even though it contains some of the greatest visuals and music ever set to celluloid. (Oh the suspense!)

The Masterpiece - Mulholland Drive
Bette has come to Hollywood. Bette wants to be an actress. Bette meets Rita. Rita can't remember who she is, but she knows that she has been involved in an accident. Bette and Rita team up to work out this puzzle and find themselves on the periphery of the seedier side of showbiz. Diane and Camilla are actresses. Camilla is far more successful than Diane. Camilla and Diane are having a love affair until Camilla breaks it off and becomes engaged to her director. Camilla seemingly enjoys torturing Diane emotionally. Diane seeks revenge.

This is simultaneously one of the most complex, original and emotional theatre experiences I have ever had. Seeing this again really hits home how upsetting Lynch's lack of productivity lately is. There is no one who makes films like this and, although he has his fair number of supporters and detractors, I don't think we'll truly appreciate these films until Lynch flat out stops making films. No one has such a keen sense of emotion on film without relying on plotting, and consider the scope! Throughout this film, I was scared, touched, heartbroken, entertained and humoured. In fact, it wouldn't be out of place to have a 50s salesman on hand before each screening declaring "Thrills, spills - this has got it all!".

The Admirable One - Persona
I've got the feeling this one may reward repeat viewings. I think I would have flat out loved this film if I had seen it in my teenage years. This film is incredibly minimalist and quite affecting despite this. The plot involves a nurse and her patient, an actress. The patient has stopped communicating or reacting with the outside world, although it seems that this is more self-imposed than neurological. From here on out, where the film goes is open to interpretation, but to me I saw a story about a woman, despite being silent, completely dominates the nurse. So little happens in this film (which is always a good indicator that I'll enjoy it), yet there exists an incredible feeling of intense dread in this film. I really love that this completely exists without the introduction of any major physical intimidation (unlike Kill List).

I really admire how this film attempts to get across an awful lot of complex emotions without using a great deal. There's three settings, barely any props, costumes that suit the minimal approach to the rest of the film and yet, there definitely is something lacking, and no where is this more apparent in the finale of the film. Finally, after suffering so much, the nurse leaves, or is it the nurse? Have the actress and the nurse combined in some way? Or has the actress treated the nurse as a role, absorbed her and in doing so, become her? It's a very intelligent and well constructed film, but I feel that its meaning is too obscured for me to love it, especially in comparison to Wild Strawberries or the Seventh Seal.

The Less Admirable One - Vertigo
One of the nice things about watching films that were released at least 30 years ago is that there is a plethora of critical analysis available for my prying eyes to get a hold on. This especially true when there's a famous actor, director or writer involved. This is especially true when it involves one of the most revered directors of all the ages; Alfred Hitchcock. Let me put some confessions out there. I've currently got a boxset of several Hitchcock films, birthday gift from a couple of years ago, and I had only got through four of about fifteen prior to last Friday (Psycho, The Birds, Rear Window, Shadow of a Doubt). Even greater confession; ehhh, not getting all the love. I certainly had a lot of fun with those films and I wouldn't call any of them terrible (though I would call the Birds bad), but there are many other directors I not only prefer, but admire their abilities greater.

This film upsets me greatly. This is the first of Hitchcock's films in which I really could admire the direction - y'know, that thing that he is really praised for. There is plenty on the internet discussing Vertigo but unfortunately, I couldn't find a huge amount on the internet focusing on why I couldn't sing its praises (I'm sure it exists, but out of the two articles I found one was very good, the other was so poorly researched and written (hello pot, I'm kettle)). For a film that currently sits at 2nd on the 'They Shoot Pictures, Don't They?' Top 1000 (a hugemongous list that culminates rankings from a majority of film publications and ballots, so it's fairly representative of the broad consensus regarding film (aside - I wonder how they weight it? Really gets the voting theory geek in me out)), boy does this film have problems. Let's try and explain away most of these issues. There's a great deal of near hilarious moments that break the rules of the world presented here (e.g. Scotty, an ex-cop, tailing a woman in the least tactful manner ever, the letter writing sequence and all that happens afterwards), but it has often been said that Hitchcock was a director who wouldn't let details get in the way of a great thriller, so let's say that takes account of this. The script is also of some concern. Some of the lines were so clunky, they reminded me of some of the gems contained in James Cameron's Titanic (compare 'Say, weren't we engaged once?' to 'Look at his use of colour here...' - both cause me to crack up in hysterics). But hey, let's call it a stylistic choice. Most of Vertigo feels so dreamy anyway, so why should these characters talk like people? This gets me to a biggest issue: rampant misogyny.

Where to start? Well, the most obvious offenses are in the second half. The female characters are not only badly treated, but presented terribly. In the second half, one female character limps offscreen never to be seen again, while the other is forcibly moulded by James Stewart's ex-cop into the perennial Hitchcockian blonde. Now, this second part has been seen as a personal commentary by the director on himself, some form of possibly derogatory self reflection. I don't feel this stands as a valid interpretation however as, although to our modern eyes Scotty is a deplorable character, the film seems to stand behind him, pandering to his offensive actions. There's also an added layer that the woman of his affections has aided in murder and thus is on the wrong side of the moral compus presented by the film. This isn't even touching on the fact that every female character who comes in contact with Scotty falls in love with him. Consider when the film ends, is it at a natural conclusion?  I suppose so without extending it for another half hour, but is it a definitive ending?  No.  Are all the villains caught and the loose ends tied up?  Not a chance.  No, the woman in the plot is punished and holds the responsibility for the whole thing, while the actual male mastermind is off getting loaded in Europe, no doubt with a yacht, champagne, models and golf shorts.  All of this is a great shame, because visually and audibly, this is one of the greatest films I've ever experienced. I've been a huge Bernard Hermann fan for years, but I don't think any of his other scores come close to this one (well, Taxi Driver isn't far off). Such a shame.

So let's quickly tie this together. Watching Vertigo and Persona first was interesting just to see how important these two films were in inspiring Lynch's career in whole. The break down sequence in Persona really reminds me of Lynch's technique of intense distorted noise matched with extreme close up images (think the match in Wild at Heart, the vinyl in the intro of Inland Empire) and if there's one thing I couldn't praise Lynch enough for, it would be creating such oppressive atmospheres which seems a natural progression from the one present in Persona. It is also not a huge jump to see how the surreal and dreamlike Vertigo leads to part narrative, part sensory essay nature of Lynch's latter films. In fact, I see a perfectly natural progression from the nun at the climax of Vertigo to the creature living outside the diner in Mulholland Drive. Each involves a comment on Hollywood or acting of some kind, even if it is not explicitly in the plot. Is Scotty's reaction to betrayal any different to Bette/Diane's extreme behaviour at the end of Mulholland Drive? Maybe, but I'm torn between which I find more terrifying. Duality of meaning and of identity is rife within each of these, but whereas it only serves as a plot point in Vertigo and somewhat obscured or confused in Persona, Mulholland Drive deals with this, not only successfully, but in one of the most intelligent and original ways I've ever seen.  I have often looked across the news wondering how some people can do what they do and still live with themselves.  Hell, I've even asked that of myself sometimes.  May we all be haunted by our own little elderly couples.

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Other musings


So birthday sequence is in full earnest!  My brother had his birthday last Monday, mine is the upcoming Monday.  Thankfully, my bro totally enjoyed all of his gifts (GITS:SAC, The Changeling, Session 9, a Warhammer artbook and a bizarre mounted photo of Patrick Troughton).  I'm totally going to see a mini-marathon of my favourite films from childhood (Ghostbusters, Robocop, the Terminator) this weekend, thanks to my very good friend Jonathan Hatfull (http://jonathanwriting.blogspot.com/)

So Rick Nash didn't jump ship over trade deadline day.  Though, with that $7.8m price tag, it's hard not to think that he's chained to the Bismarck that is Columbus.  Hmm, actually, scratch that.  Bismarck makes Columbus sound like they were once threatening.  What's more accurate?  I guess the Costa Concordia. Yeah, looking at the Blue Jackets backcheck does make me wonder if they think they're on a cruise.

Study has amped up.  I think the sprinting starts now.  And on note of sprinting, my training for the Great North Run has stepped up a notch, boom.

I'm thinking of buying some shoes and not just running shoes.

Other musings

Heaven forbid.  I'm struggling for a subject to discuss.  Seems like I'm tired of hearing my own voice (or whatever the written equivalent of that is).  In addition, I've very little on my mind worth pondering at the minute, so let this be an odds and sods post, a b-sides & rarities boxset, a series of doodles.  In fact, I think I'm only writing this in a dire attempt to prevent February from being my worst ever month for web hits.

Perhaps I'm just exhausted.  I had a particularly over scheduled weekend.  I had family down; my younger brother, Sam, and my mum, Anne.  So for 3 days, we walked around London, we visited the cinema and the theatre, we ate well, and generally enjoyed the company.  Cinema trips were Moneyball and the Descendants.  Theatre trip was Noël Coward's Hay Fever.  All get good reviews from me, especially the set in Hay Fever.

So what's going on in the world of the sports that I like?  Well, the New Jersey Devils are bizarrely on a winning streak.  I'm still not getting my hopes up though.  They generally perform well when I maintain a form of healthy scepticism to their prospects.  Formula One testing has begun.  The BBC are infuriating me with their coverage.  The cars are incredibly ugly.    They have noses like mine with bumps and steep drops where there should be curves.

On the note of curves, I watched Gentlemen Prefer Blondes for the first time recently.  Why two such complex and interesting characters would end up with two so vacuous and passive men is beyond my comprehension.  Such incredible costumes though.  Why is women's fashion so depressingly better than men's?  In addition, I read an incredible article on Marilyn Monroe in Joan's Digest.  Find it here: http://www.joansdigest.com/issue-1/monroe

It's quite a depressing article.  I found that the article, in conjunction with a Thinking Allowed episdode (found yonder: http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b01by7cl/Thinking_Allowed_Citizens_without_Frontiers_Monogamy_in_men/ ) and a blog post by the enchantingly talented Caitlin Laura Allen (entitled 'Ryanair - there’s a time and a place', located there: http://whyaravenislikeawritingdesk.tumblr.com/ ), made me feel completely out of place in society.  I can't relate to the 70-odd% of people who partake in sexual infidelity.  I can relate to Ms Monroe's feelings of inadequacies and intense pressure, although they obviously stem from different experiences and manifest themselves in less harmful, more passive ways.  I also agree with Ms Allen's opinions and her general intellectual manner when discussing those base activities that I find myself preoccupied with.  So why do I feel so isolated and out of place?  I don't think I'm more intelligent or self aware than anyone else.

I need to read more.  At least when I was reading Woody Allen, I was inspired to write knock off "funny" stories.  Same with Hemingway.  Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.  What a ponder.

It's my birthday soon.  I shall be going to the following events:
http://www.princecharlescinema.com/events/events.php?seasonanchor=doublebills
http://princecharlescinema.com/events/events.php?seasonanchor=ghostbusters
The first is on Sat 3rd March - quote-a-long Ghostbusters.  Methinks a few drinks will be needed prior.  The second is a double bill of the Terminator and Robocop on Monday 5th March, my actual birthday.  My exams are coming close so I should be studying more and not seeing three films at a weekend, but these three are so interwove into my childhood that I felt the fates themselves move to tell me I should be celebrating my birthday this year.  As readers of this blog (yes, all three of you), I'm cordially inviting you to come and and bring cordials.

Let's pretend to be a music journalist and other musings

So seeing as I feel so guilty about the gap between posts, I figured I'd return to a subject I can write about quickly.  I've not done much music writing on this blog, but let me reveal here and now, exclusively, I used to dream of being a music journalist/musician.  Basically being music's answer to François Truffaut would have been an aim for 15-20 year old Ben.  Unfortunately, I'm naturally hesitant to being creative in groups so I was only in a couple of bands, plus I was incredibly snobby which didn't help either (that's snobby about music, not people).

One thing I was impressed by was the writings I did for the Warwick Boar (the Warwick Uni student paper).  I was very fortunate to work with some talented people there, especially Will Metcalfe, who is now an actual real life journalist.  I was lucky enough to listen to music for free, write about it and sometimes mean musicians and talk to them about being musicians.

I can't remember exactly when it happened, but my love affair with music waned.  The passion was gone.  Unlike the aftermath of my real relationships, there was never any animosity and we can still hang out now.  I just couldn't keep up, I guess.  There were always new bands, new songs to digest, to form opinions and to share.  I was exhausted, burnt out, we need to take a break.  Music carried on seeing other people, but I can't blame it.  How can you turn down so many expectant ears?

Truthfully though, I think I was running out of ideas for music reviews.  Reviewing albums is a very odd concept.  I think that music is far more subjective an experience than any other art.  Unlike films, it's hard to get a solid opinion from one or two listens of an album.  It's because of this aspect that music reviews are an odd bunch.  They can either follow a standard track by track account or they take a more high-concept approach.  This can either take the form of a early Pitchfork-esque pretence-fest or a breakdown of the themes and ideas contain within the album, viewing it as a body of work instead of 12 random sketches.  It's very rare that I listen to music and feel compelled to write about it, and yet, I have three albums that I wish to share and discuss right now!

Jenny Owen Youngs - An Unwavering Band of Light
I was so excited by this album that I pre-ordered it.  From that sentence, you could conclude that I am a fan of her music, and that would be the right conclusion.  This is her third album and it's been really interesting to she how she has developed her craft.  The ukulele has disappeared and been replaced by tom-tom pounding rock drums, well, at least on half of the tracks.  The other half is slower tempo, more piano than the synth/organic electronic vibe that her previous album Transmitter Failure had.  AUBOL has less of a cohesive feel (though I think that Transmitter Failure's success in this regard is part artificial due to the First Person/Last Person combo), but the songwriting is to such a high standard that this is moot.
Standout tracks: Pirates ("we could be pirates" is now my favourite chat up line), Your Apartment, Born to Lose

Listener - Return to Struggleville
I was very lucky to catch the Listener when his Tour of Homes hit UK shores many years ago (2004, maybe the year after?).  He had just finished an album called Ozark Empire, which occupied an odd position of being a concept rap album.  I enjoyed it, but goodness, it was a bit pretentious and the concert gave me the impression that he had an inflated opinion of his own creativity and intelligence.  The remarkably frank stage banter at times turned self-self-congratulatory, even going as far as to comment on how clever some of his song titles were.  I hate to sound so negative because the album is very good and the concert was a wonderful experience.  So intimate and friendly!  And with great charisma!  So, after the show finished, I bought a copy of that album, listened to it, and enjoyed it.  It was my go-to, little know rap album throughout Uni.  Strangely though, I didn't keep up with what the Listener was up to.  One day, inspiration struck me and I took to Google for information.  I discovered not one, but two new albums on his Bandcamp page.  Bandcamp - what a wonderful website.  What struck me quickly though was that the material had shifted.  The Listener persona had changed from intelligent rapper to loud and angry street poet, the sample led backing tracks were replaced by a live, noisy and almost roots band atmosphere.  All the changes were completely for the best.  What struck me after these realisations was that one of the albums was a re-imagining of Ozark Empire.  This new record, Return to Struggleville, took the majority of the songs and developed their Death of a Salesman-esque themes into a passionate symphony detailing the destructive aspects of working in dog-eat-dog consumer focused society. I flat out love it.  Nearly all the Ozark-tracks songs are improved (Officer, You Have the Wrong Man... being the sole exception), finding an extra gear that the solid yet sterile production the first time round missed, but it's the new compositions that turn the loose themes into a nightmare landscape of redundant office workers, knife salesmen and snake oil dreams.
Standout tracks: "What would you do if I'm not what I'm supposed to be, because I'm not", "It's time for drastic measures they're not taking you seriously", "The music that the angels do"

Asleep in the Sea - Avenue
This is definitely a high scorer on the "fewer fans, better band" scale.  I discovered Asleep in the Sea a few years ago when they only had two EPs.  There were prepping their debut album for release.  It was an exciting time.  Then they broke up and the album was only released in a limited capacity.  They had offered it as a free download, but by the time I realised, Megaupload/Rapidshare/takeyourpick had taken it down.  I had missed out.  Sad face.  So I emailed the drummer and he really kindly sent me it just for the price of shipping.  Sweet.  I think the whole album is up on YouTube now, so it's well worth checking it out.  They're a very sweet, melodic indie band.  Quirky vocals are very much the dish of the day, but with great emotional range.  The record plays out like a smaller scale Sufjan Stevens, which is definitely no bad thing.  It's definitely quite rough, but there's enough in the way of potential and promise that really makes me sad to think that this unit don't make music together any more.
Standout tracks: Maiden Fair, Caner & Bones, Doom
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Other musings

Lucky for you guys, it's fairly easy to listen to these records.  For Jenny Owen Youngs and the Listener, I strongly advise buying their records - support your global local artists!
http://listener.bandcamp.com/album/return-to-struggleville-2
http://jennyowenyoungs.bandcamp.com/
This youtube chap has the majority of Avenue uploaded http://www.youtube.com/user/Chuggsy666 , but I'll also embed one for ease.


So what's new?  Work's getting a bit quieter which is nice.  I would fill up the extra time with study and cinema trips, but I have my family visiting this weekend, so instead, the time will be spent walking around and eating in restaurants, plus a nice bit of shopping.  It's nearly the official start of birthday season, in which me, my mum and my brother all have our birthdays in a 2 week period (well, usually, but leap year has added an extra day onto it).  27th Feb, 5th March, 13th March.  Half term weekend is traditionally when we meet up and hand over all presents so they can sit pretty in a cupboard until the party starts.

I should *fingers crossed* be going to the New Empress film quiz on Sunday night!  How exciting.  Next time I get my pay check, I may even subscribe to said publication.  More info here http://newempressmagazine.com/

Freak out!

Apricity and other musings

Standing on a street corner in Charlotte wasn't something Andrew had done in a long time.  The weather had turned since the evening he agreed to this and it was apparent that the temperature would not be returning to the highs intended to an April in Rochester.  He hadn't packed accordingly and was forced to make do with several layers of insufficiently thin t-shirts and casual sweaters.  The cold lunged viciously at his face, desperately trying to invade his interior warmth.  Occasionally, he'd remember to attempt a futile movement,   sometimes even clasping at the neck of his pathetically defenceless raincoat jacket, but his mind was elsewhere and so the battle was lost.

For all the harshness of the weather, he couldn't help but feel how well the years had treated Charlotte.  The sun beamed down vainly on the corner where Mann Road met Beach Avenue and although it didn't ease the frost seeping into Andrew's bones, it did make for a pretty scene.  He stood with his back to station, looking onto the houses blocking his view to sea.  There was definitely no mistaking it was there though, you could hear the waves when the traffic subsided and its scent was always present.  Andrew noticed a freshly painted bungalow was for sale and remembered the time when he had desired such a property.  Or was the desire with whom he was to share the property?  Was the property superfluous?  He couldn't remember.

Nora excitedly exited her car.  She had managed to park it without being seen, which surprised her greatly due to horrendous noises it was prone to making.  As she crept up on Andrew she supposed that he didn't know what she drove any more and so could be forgiven for making himself such an easy target.  She never paused to wonder whether it would be appropriate.  Andrew gasped and instantly, there was laughter.  After the initial rush had passed, they both took the chance to see how the other had changed.

The moment lingered but not uncomfortably.

Nora drove while Andrew contemplated how uncomfortable her car was.  Andrew was cursed with the gift of height and with such a gift often comes legs of a greater length than the reasonable person.  Nora's car wasn't as accommodating as her conversation.  In the few moments in which they'd be reunited, they'd discussed many items; health, family, looks, kids, work.  Andrew thought discussion was too strong a word to describe their interaction.  Nora dominated the conversation, skittishly darting from subject to subject.  Andrew knew her well enough to know that this meant she was excited and happy to see him and he was content with this.

As they drove along Beach Avenue, the conversation continued.  As Nora drove, Andrew began to wonder how she could concentrate on navigating the icy roads and still find space to imagine up new and far reaching items to dissect at such a pace.  He struggled to keep up and had barely finished formulating an answer when the chatter had move unexpectedly and left him behind.   Eventually, the trees to his left parted and he halted any attempt to respond.  Nora remarked how it must have been a long time since he had seen the coast.  All that time melted away and Andrew remembered vividly spending weekends away with Nora back when her surname was Tormé.  It was Norris now, which did not suit her.  He remembered playing with her beautifully dark Italian hair as they walked along the beach.  He was upset to see it now greyed, but then again he was sure she was disappointed seeing the sizeable haunch he was carrying around his midriff.

They left the car in a side road and headed towards the Ontario Park Boardwalk.  The conversation now turned to idle gossip.  Had Andrew heard what had happened to Phil and Francesca?  Was Arnie still playing in jazz clubs?  By the time they took a seat in a cafe, Andrew's head was swarmed by images of sunny days on campus, idle times spent away from essays and lectures.  That's how they first discovered Charlotte, on a weekend jaunt.  It was a perfect hideaway from NYU.  They originally went as part of a group, but made many returns as a couple.  He remembered laying his head on her lap as they sat on the beach and the fragrance that Nora used to wear.  He noticed that that was another way in which she had changed and it stung.  This memory was lost when the aroma of coffee beans arrived at their table, closely followed by the actual beverage.  When Andrew knew Nora, she loved the smell of coffee, but couldn't stomach the drink.

After the coffee, the conversation continued, as did the clock.  Soon, hours had passed and Nora had to return to her life.  She was picking up her granddaughter from flute practice.  Nora asked if Andrew would like to meet her, if he would be interested in seeing her family home.  Andrew offered a hasty excuse about travel and business.  Both knew it was an excuse, but it was accepted and understood.

Nora returned to her family.  Andrew travelled back to New York and after completing his obligations there, returned to his life in Texas.  Afterwards, he thought about her with a regularity that he usually reserved for slow roast cooking.  This, of course, faded, though he appreciated having the colours brightened for an afternoon.

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So this is a short story I wrote.  It took a while. It should be read when listening to the following songs.



Things have been as hectic as usual.  So following my trip to a farm three weekends ago, I attended a Sci-Fi convention two weekends ago and for the weekend just past, I managed to fit some study in between cinema viewings of the Room and Lost Highway.

I was officially accepted into the Great North Run, so I best get that jogging gear out again.  I had a glorious run on Saturday.  My second favourite run actually, only because it reminded me so vividly of my favourite.  It was my birthday two years ago.  I was living in Leamington.  I woke up unexpectedly early and couldn't get back to sleep.  I believe I chatted to a friend in Italy for a bit and then went out for a run.  It was a Sunday and early, the roads were clear except for other joggers and workmen laying grit onto the frosty roads.  The sky was stunning, the weather sharp.  I love winter.

Muppets tonight, either Carnage or Young Adult tomorrow.  I think the next post will be about films or music.  I've been re-enjoying music lately.