In which I talk about the best films of the noughties: Volume 5

2004

15. Finding Neverland (2004)

J. M. Barrie strives to write a play he feels is worthy of going to see, one that will strike people on a personal level and capture their imaginations, allow them to escape from the world for a night. Barrie himself prefers the childlike enthusiasm of his own imagination, a fact which is putting a strain on his marriage, but which leads to a friendship with a family of boys and their widowed mother. His friendship with these children is viewed critically by a rigid society, and the themes of everlasting youth in his play seem to parallel Barrie’s determination to hold onto innocence and enjoyment in his own life. The reason I like this film so much is that it explores the fun that is to be found if you allow yourself to be drawn into a story, even a fantasy – to leave behind cynicism and just enjoy. Kate Winslet is beautifully tragic as Sylvia Llewellyn-Davies, and I always enjoy watching Mr Depp. Little Freddie Highmore can break your heart, and I defy anyone to not well up at least a little when the children of Great Ormond Street Hospital enter the theatre to help the grown ups enjoy and understand Peter Pan.

Best scene: the play performed in the parlour for Sylvia.

“What a horrible, candle-snuffing word. That’s like saying, ‘He can’t climb that mountain. He’s just a man’, or ‘That’s not a diamond, it’s just a rock’. Just.”

2. Shaun of the Dead (2004)

Shaun is a regular guy trying to sort out his life. His girlfriend has dumped him, he doesn’t get along with his stepfather, and his best friend is a largely sedentary former schoolmate who hasn’t quite adapted into adulthood. On top of which, the dead are coming back to life as zombies and roaming the Earth. Just one of those days… My love for Simon Pegg and Edgar Wright knows few bounds, and their sense of humour is what gets this film into the top 50. That, and the fact that all the performers play it absolutely straight, with the ridiculousness of their surroundings only enhancing the comedy. This is the first in Pegg and Wright’s Blood and Ice Cream trilogy. An excellent beginning.

Best scene: battling zombies in time to Queen’s “Don’t Stop Me Now”. Genius.

“How’s that for a slice of fried gold?”

In which I talk about the best films of the noughties: Volume 4

2003

13. Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (2003)

All right, here’s the last one. Two little hobbits make their way through the perils of Mordor to destroy the One Ring. The rest of the fellowship spends the movie kicking ass, lighting fires and generally being awesome. And Gollum, well, Gollum is awesome in his own, evil way. It occurs to me that my review of these films has been mostly subjective, but still, I loved this last instalment. There is so much contained in this movie: battle at Pelennor Fields (horses, horses, horses), the oliphants, Shelob vs Sam, the lighting of the beacons and that gorgeous, final battle, where Viggo Mortensen just makes me cry. Jackson and his team structured the climactic film with such enthusiasm and attention to detail that it was clear it was being made by fans as well as filmmakers, and this is reflected in the script as much as in the visual components. Difficult to say which is my favourite part, and I can’t even single out a performance without feeling like I’m omitting another…

Best scene: (it changes every few minutes, so right now we’ll say) the destruction of the One Ring.

“I’m glad to be with you, Samwise Gamgee, here at the end of all things.”

14. Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl (2003)

The idea of a movie based on a theme park ride had me seriously questioning Johnny Depp’s decision making abilities. Obviously, he knew more than anyone else, and turned out to be the best thing about this film. Not only that, but he gave us one of the best character turns of the decade. Famously, this is attributed almost entirely to Mr Depp, who came up with the costume, makeup and general air of…oddness…that surrounds Jack Sparrow, all by himself. This is a fantastic rendering of a good old adventure film, some of the best fun you can have at the movies. Supporting characters cannot be dismissed, especially in the form of Geoffrey Rush, a giant of an actor who looks as though he’s having the time of his life. This movie would not have been half as good if not for the performances, and in an action film, that’s saying something.

Best scene: any scene, really, featuring Johnny Depp.

“Me, I’m dishonest. And a dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest. Honestly, it’s the honest ones you want to watch out for.”

In which I talk about the best films of the noughties: Volume 3

2002

8. Road To Perdition (2002)

In America’s depression-era 1930s, a hit man is thrown into a life on the run from his own “family” (oh yes, “family” in that sense of the word) when his son witnesses him and a colleague carrying out an assassination. I can understand when people remark that this is such a cold-looking film, and yet there is so much beauty in almost every aspect: the performances, the visual component, the score, the underrunning theme of death and menace as characters attempt to claw their way out of hell, even as they approach Perdition. Every single thing contributes to the story. I love the cinematography most of all: Daniel Craig’s introduction, the road to Chicago, the reading room, the freaking bead of sweat, the rain…oh my lord, the rain. Just incredible. In the commentary the director refers to a quote by Alfred Hitchcock, advising filmmakers to “treat your love scenes like murders and your murders like love scenes”. If you’ve seen the shootout in the rain, you’ll know what that means to Sam Mendes.

Best scene: the rain soaked street.

“Open your eyes! This is the life we chose, the life we lead! And there is only one guarantee: none of us will see heaven.”

9. Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (2002)

Yes, you’re going to have to read two more of these. So two of the hobbits continue on their way to destroy the One Ring. The man, the elf, the dwarf and the wizard go off to defend the world of men against a rising evil, and the remaining hobbits discover the world of Ents. They’d have to have been nervous with this one. Nothing like pressure. Here the writers managed to construct a solid film out of what would have been the most difficult of the three to adapt. The second instalment might not have had the wide-eyed magic of the first or the urgency and sheer size of the third, but what it did have was a new and improved Gandalf, an incredibly well-directed battle, and Gollum. In many ways this movie belonged to one character, one scene.

Best scene: the taming of Smeagol.

“We wants it. We needs it. Must have the precious. They stole it from us. Sneaky little hobbitses. Wicked. Tricksy. False!”
“No, not master!”
“Yes, precious. False. They will cheat you, hurt you, lie!”
“Master is our friend!”
“You don’t have any friends! Nobody likes you!”
“I’m not listening! Not listening!”
“You’re a liar. And a thief!”
“Nope!”
“Muuuuuurderer…”

10. The Pianist (2002)

A film that you really shouldn’t go to see by yourself. Live and learn. The most powerful holocaust film since Schindler’s List, this was a harrowing, inside look at the life of Wladyslaw Szpilman, a Jewish-Polish and celebrated pianist. As the world around him descends into the anti-Semitism of a world at war, he finds his very identity decaying as violence and sadism is inflicted on the Jewish people with increasing blatancy. We are taken right inside the ghetto, into the horror. The lengths he goes to in order to survive (this is not a spoiler – the movie is based on this guy’s autobiography) are detailed across the rest of the film. It digs into your very core, this film. Brody is fairly astonishing, and Polanski’s direction – whatever you think of him personally – is masterful. Around this time I heard a reviewer lament that this was “yet another” holocaust film. I think it’s something we need to remember.

Best scene: the encounter with the grand piano: Szpilman’s hands hover with agony above the keys, unable to play for fear of discovery.

“It’s an official decree. No Jews allowed in the parks.”
“Are you joking?”
“No, I’m not. I would suggest we sit down on a bench, but that’s also an official decree. No Jews allowed on the benches.”
“This is absurd!”
“So, we should just stand here and talk. I don’t think we’re not allowed to do that.”

11. Chicago (2002)

Roxie Hart wants to be a star, and when she murders her lover she gets the chance, in the form of the Jazz Age’s best lawyer, Billy Flynn, who knows that the whole justice system is just a three-ring circus: you only have to know how to play. I’ve never been quite easy with Renee Zellweger, but frankly Catherine Zeta Jones and Richard Gere make up for that. Zeta-Jones has never had so much energy, nor so much room to use it, and Gere’s tap dance is one of my favourite cinematic moments. John C. Reilly and Queen Latifah give similarly awesome performances, and it’s difficult to believe that this was director Rob Marshall’s first feature film. The transitions to song and creativity in set pieces are inspired, and other than that it’s just plain fun to watch and engage in.

Best scene: the tap dance.

“They’d love you a lot more if you were hanged. You know why? Because it would sell more papers. That’s Chicago.”

12. Far From Heaven (2002)

In 1950s America, a white woman begins a friendship with a black gardener, while her husband has his own issues to deal with. Both these events will trouble the waters of the picture-perfect, polite society world. This film goes a lot deeper than it at first seems to. On the surface it’s an homage to the golden age of Hollywood: the long, sweeping establishing shots, the orchestral surges and figures through the fog… And that part is lovely. But it’s also a closer look at the feelings and dissatisfactions that bubble under the surface of this All-American couple, and how these are rendered cinematically. The colour palette idea is a nice one – each scene’s lighting, costumes and sets are coloured to depict a particular message or undercurrent. What’s really interesting by the end is what transgressions are forgiven by society and what transgressions are not. It’s technically fascinating.

Best scene: I’m not too sure why, but the part where her scarf flies over the house…beautiful.

“That was the day I stopped believing in the wild ardour of things. Perhaps in love, as well. That kind of love. The love in books and films. The love that tells us to abandon our lives and plans, all for one brief touch of Venus.”

In which I talk about the best films of the noughties: Volume 2

2001

3. Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring (2001)

Hurrah! No, I don’t care that some people have decided not to like this anymore, or whatever, my love is true and loyal, and this movie rocks. Number one in the trilogy introduces those of us who had not yet managed to get through the monolith that is Tolkien’s novel to four of the cutest hobbits you ever did see, a very pretty elf, a robust dwarf and two of the toughest men you’ll ever see. I could (clearly) go on about this for ages, so what’s my favourite part? Hobbiton. The greenness and lushness and the fact that they got Bag End EXACTLY right. It’s a huge production, but every little detail is fantastic.

Best scene: Ian McKellen’s – sorry, Gandalf’s – entry into Hobbiton.

“Before you came along we Bagginses were very well thought of.”
“Indeed?”
“Never had any adventures or did anything unexpected.”
“If you’re referring to the incident with the dragon, I was barely involved.”

4. Gosford Park (2001)

A hunting party of well-to-dos arrives at a country estate for a weekend, attended by their many servants. In the night, someone is murdered. Everyone's a suspect! This is one of the most underrated films of the decade, has a remarkably elegant script and a cast to die for. It also has some very skilled direction going on – many different conversations going on simultaneously while the camera drifts in and out of each. One might be mistaken in thinking Gosford Park is a quiet film, but the truth is there are cacophonies of subtext in every line. Helen Mirren kicks ASS and Maggie Smith has some delicious lines, but there seriously isn’t a dud in the whole production.

Best scene: Helen Mirren’s final conversation with Kelly Macdonald.

“What gift do you think a good servant has that separates them from the others? It’s the gift of anticipation. And I’m a good servant. I’m better than good. I’m the best. I’m the perfect servant. I know when they’ll be hungry and the food is ready. I know when they’ll be tired and the bed is turned down. I know it before they know it themselves.”

5. Amelie (2001)

I totally almost forgot this one (had to get rid of Casino Royale)! The thing about Amelie, though, is that it is as fascinating from a filmmaking standpoint as it is from that of story: French waitress Amelie sets out to improve the lives of strangers, friends and relatives, seeking magic and mystery in a modern world. The colours are saturated and generally keep to rich reds, greens and yellows, giving the viewer an insight into Amelie’s character from note one – here is someone determined to see something extraordinary in the everyday. The humour is quick and the quirks sincere – the lightning-fast insights into the lives of passing characters manage to give the audience a city full of rounded, real people. Amelie’s slow-burn of self awareness is touching and only serves to highlight the effort it takes her to get to her final scene.

Best scene: skipping stones on the Canal St. Martin, in one of the film’s most beautiful shots.

“Amelie is a shy young woman with a taste for all life’s small pleasures: immersing one’s hand in a sack of grain, cracking the top of a crème brulee with the back of a teaspoon…or skipping stones on the Canal St. Martin…”

6. The Others (2001)

Speaking of underrated, I think this film has more to offer than it might at first seem. A Kelly-like Kidman is the mother of two in a large, empty house, waiting for her husband to return from the war. Slowly, things emerge in the ever-present shadows, and it becomes clear that someone – some others – are listening. There is a real eeriness to the film, with the great house on the hill surrounded by fog and not another sound in earshot. Nicole Kidman and her two creepy pale-faced children are fragile and very good as the tension builds between the light, the dark and the mist. Nice and atmospheric.

Best scene: the old woman and the little girl. if you have seen it you’ll know what I mean.

“I’m beginning to feel totally cut off from the world…”

7. Moulin Rouge! (2001)

Two star-crossed lovers steal moments together as they prepare for a performance spectacular, amid suspicious rivals and deadly consequences. It’s Romeo and Juliet, with music! And prostitutes! I love the enthusiasm of the exclamation point in the title. But this movie is mainly here for its sheer ballsiness – it’s so operatic, all colour and movement and mash-ups of songs you wouldn’t expect to find in gaye paree, but somehow after a few minutes it just WORKS. There are parts that I like more than others, but I think my favourite performance is El Tango de Roxanne. Moulin Rouge! just reinvented the musical for the new millennium.

Best scene: ‘your song’.

“Above all things I believe in love. Love is like oxygen. Love is a many-splendored thing. Love lifts us up where we belong – all you need is love!”

In which I talk about the best films of the noughties: Volume 1

A little introduction...

I've come across many a list lately about the best films of the decade from 2000 - 2009, and quite frankly, I'm sick of them being filled with movies I don't like. The logical step seems to be to make my own list of the 50 best films that I've seen over the last decade. There are, naturally, problems:

1) I haven't seen all the films, ok, and that's why you won't find "Up" on this list, among others.

2) This is an opinion piece. These are MY favourite films. I shall attempt to describe why I like them so much, but I'm not asking for a dissertation about why Kill Bill should be on here. Mostly because I haven't seen it. If it's not on the list, in fact, just assume I haven't seen it. I would, however, LOVE any recommendations.

3) Some decades seem to have a lot fewer candidates than others. I can't explain it, and quite frankly I don't know what I was doing in those years, movie-wise. Hmm.

2000

1. Best In Show (2000)

This is Christopher Guest’s best mockumentary, possibly helped by all the puppies. Five dogs compete for the title of Best In Show at the Mayflower Dog Show in Philadelphia, while the audience is invited to judge the behaviour of their owners. Each dog is matched with an appropriate owner (the uptight yuppies own a high-maintenance weimaraner, the poodle belongs with the upper-upper-class), but as Guest just lets his actors run with their dialogue, true neuroses and characters are revealed. The documentary style works perfectly along with the parody, and the performances are spot on (Parker Posey, Michael Hitchcock and John Michael Higgins in particular).

Best scene: the yuppies detail how they met.

"We met at Starbucks. Not at the same Starbucks but we saw each other at different Starbucks across the street from each other."

2. The Dish (2000)

Doing what the Australian film industry has the capacity to do best, this quiet little movie has a great big heart. Telling the story of the first moon landing from the antipodeans’ standpoint, four men strive to bring the photographs to the world while trying to sort out their own problems – high winds, power blackouts and not letting anyone realise that they’ve lost Apollo 11. These writers are experts at creating beautiful and endearing characters, especially of the small-town variety.

Best scene: Glenn demonstrates how satellites work, using a basketball.

"Imagine the earth is a basketball."

"This'll be good."

"And on top of the basketball there's...what's the name of the thing you put the pump into?"

"A hole."

"Yeah, but it's got a name."

"The valve?"

"The valve! Imagine on top there's a valve, and on the bottom there's another valve, and..."

"You know, basketballs only have one valve, Glenn."

"Well, what's something that's got two valves?"

"Tuba?"

"It's gotta be round."

"Tambourine?"

"That doesn't have valves!"

"Coconut!"

In which I am back after a long absence

It's been quite a hiatus. In between this post and the last, I have been knuckling down to participate in NaNoWriMo, and in the end reached exactly 50,000 words. Hurrah! Merry Nano to me!

I was quite proud, actually. I'd begun without much of a premise and with less conviction that I would be able to finish, but somewhere around the middle I really began to get into it, and had the pleasant experience of being completely surprised by my characters and their actions. Sure, I had to play with reality a little (it turns out legs from which feet have been amputated take AGES to get to the point where they can be used again), but I like where it ended up.

Today I read the delightful news that Leonardo DiCaprio is going to be giving his voice to an animated film - hurrah! I don't know too much about it yet, but it's going to be called The Guardians and he's playing Jack Frost. Oh HELL yes.

As you may have figured out, I'm filling up with the Christmas Spirit (sounds vaguely dirty, but we'll ignore that, shall we?) and all the childlike enthusiasm that comes with it. Sparkly things are like catnip right now, and I find myself richocheting from glittery object to glittery object like a ping pong ball. I'm about halfway through my shopping, and surprisingly optimistic about getting it all done in time!

What else...?

Oh yes, I've been coming across a lot of blogs lately summing up the "noughties" with regard to film. So instead of rolling my eyes at the inclusion of yet ANOTHER Pedro Amaldovar movie, I thought I'd give it a go...of course I'm going to have to actually come up with something...fifty? Have I seen that many movies this decade? Probably.

At any rate - coming soon!

In which I am hungry.

Well, it's dinner time and I find myself in a house with no food (none belonging to me and of the dinnertime persuasion, anyway). This is, of course, due ot a complete lack of foresight on my part, but this self-awareness ain't going to fill my tummy. And so it looks like I'm having a can of soup and possibly some pasta. Mmm. There are some bits of salt and pepper squid in the freezer, but I'm a little concerned about how good for me deep frying is. Anyone want to weigh in?

Soup. It's what's for dinner.

Tomorrow I have to go on the unappealing search for undergarments that I can wear with very particular outergarments without said undergarments being immediately noticable. Sigh. When did getting dressed require so much effort? I am not expecting much success, especially in light of recent bad moods.

But as the Mr Whippy van finally decides there are no more kids on this street and moves on, I hear the jug has boiled, so it's time to whip up some culinary brilliance. Then I'm going to tempt fate by watching "What Lies Beneath". Before bedtime, no less.

In which I am making headway into becoming a grumpy old woman

Nothing like a rant to get the blogging mind back on track.

Today I'm complaining about the growing trend that seems to permeate film, and in fact is not that recent a trend, when I think about it. What it is, is the idea that it doesn't matter if the guy is tubby, short, hairy, or generally not that attractive, but the GIRL has no option but to be hot. No questions.

I don't know if I'd feel better about things if the guy were also required to be hot. Or whether, if they were both ordinary looking, I'd feel as though a victory had been won. All I know is that the current state of things irks me. The girls are required to look deeper to find true beauty, but the guys are allowed to do what they like. Have I put too much thought into this?

Well, possibly. And yet, I felt it necessary to put in a blog. I suppose it's something that seems to have bled into my life, lately.

Meanwhile, the other night I saw The Box. If I had ever seen Donnie Darko, I probably would've been more prepared (same director), but I haven't, so I wasn't. (Side note: before the screening the MC said "I'm guessing there isn't a single one of you who hasn't seen Donnie Darko", followed by laughter from the audience, like la di frickin DA, nerdlingers.) The first part of the premise was REALLY well done -- the moment when the button is pressed (because you know there's no movie without that happening, but you still don't want it to happen) was gasp-inducing. Anyway, it was all very tense and quiet and suspenseful.....and then it went a little odd. Like, paranormal odd. Like zombie vessels with nosebleeds, odd. I suppose it raised some interesting questions, but I would have preferred a little less of the paranormal, I think. I mean, SOME, sure, but I think there was a more interesting story in the bare bones of the premise that didn't need the hoo-ha.

Last night, after a soul-crushing night in which I discovered that people I've known for half the year as part of my dance class don't actually know my name, I missed my connecting bus and ended stranded in the middle of a major road with no taxis in sight. This is what I don't like about Point B - its transport system leaves a LOT to be desired. Anyway, what followed was a 40minute walk home alone at 11pm, with many a run-in with cobwebs and bitey insects. Needless to say I wasn't feeling my best when I finally made it in the door, and lay on the floor for some time watching Glee. Unfortunately, even this excellent show (I'll have to express my love for it some other day) failed to lift me out of my mood, hence today's grumpy blog.

Grumpily yours,
O

Random story #1

There are three golf balls on the moon.

The first was a practice hit, or so Neil had attested. This may have had something to do with the fact that it lay embarrassingly close to its original position, half-buried in the fine granules of moon-dust not far from the footprints the first lunar module left behind. The moon had felt the shift in its surface makeup, lightly, like an itch, or a fly landing on a person's cheek. It had recognised the extra mass of the golf ball, too, and in the end had accepted it with the philosophy of one who has witnessed a larger scope than could be disrupted by a mere golf ball. It appreciated the similarities, though, of the pock-marked orb that now made up part of its mass.

The second had been a hole in one, or close to. Few knew that several minutes of the first lunar landing had been spent arguing over the legitimacy of that shot. It now lay against the flag pole, next to a slightly incriminating footprint that suggested it had been nudged at some point out of its actual landing.

The third ball had rebounded directly off the pole, the result of a misunderstanding of the nature of the atmosphere. It had driven into a rocky area, where the relaunch of the lunar module had knocked a fragment of rock into a slow lob. Eventually, it had made contact with the ball, ricocheting off the latter and knocking it into a rocky gutter. The ball tipped, tripped, rapped and rattled through the low-gravity atmosphere, gaining momentum with each sluggish arc. It was surprised by its own progress; looking back it saw the earth-rise, upwards the diminishing speck of light that came from the engines of the lunar module as it powered upward, leaving the golf ball to its own devices. Abandoning, even, to an environment too ancient to even fathom its existence.

Eventually, of course, the ball would come to a stop, and the moon's orbit would continue on and on into each new space, taking with it the three new additions to itself.

In which it is Friday.

At the moment I'm watching Frost/Nixon, and I'm very pleased with the investment. Frank Langella is a god. Also he makes me want to give him a really big hug.

Today I finished up work with a tremendous sense of relief. Yes, I still have work to do over the weekend, but there is nothing like the feeling of easing off your shoes at the end of a day's hard work, sitting down on the floor and leaning back against the couch and just...breathing. The air is growing warmer, sweeter, and while I could really do with a great big thunderstorm, I'll take this balmly weather for now. Ahhhh.


Saw Inglourious Basterds the other day. It's the first Tarantino film I've ever seen, and I have to say...I was marvellously impressed. It was just...mesmerising. There were parts that I didn't like at all, to be sure (not all that interested in the bludgeoning of heads with a baseball bat), but for the most part...it's constructed in the most intriguing way - five or six really long scenes that are beautifully crafted, or at least fascinatingly creative, fraught with an impressive amount of tension and some truly wonderful acting. Christoph Waltz is indescribably good - difficult to keep your eyes off him, and I'm totally picking him for an Oscar nom, if not a favourite to win for Supporting Actor in 2010.

Now THAT's a pipe.

I understand Tarantino has a penchant and a reputation for violence in film, and it's carried over here, but overlooking that there is some great enthusiasm for filmmaking in his work. I'm quite pleasantly surprised. Not sure I'm going to go out and watch Kill Bill, but...

In which I spend a little while reveling in the Potterverse

I would like to begin by saying this: I want a t-shirt that says "I'm what Willis was talkin' 'bout".


Meanwhile...I'm cooking a casserole. It's been in the oven for about 1.5 hours, and I'm STARVING, although possibly also curious to see whether it'll work. It has meat and mushrooms and carrot and onion and parsley and thyme. Lots of thyme. I may have gotten carried away.


I saw the latest Harry Potter movie the other day (for those keeping score, The Half-Blood Prince), and I am smitten, as I always seem to be by this series. I love it. O, how I love it. Almost for its own sake, and it seems to have been made just for me! Meeee! Anyway, As a result I've dived (diven?) back into the books, and spent much of today pleasurably ensconced in the Potterverse. It's the vividness of the world that I love. A perfectly wonderful excuse to abandon reality in favour of something a little more magical.

Awesome.

In which I cut New Hollywood some slack

I've been asked to elaborate on the Old v New Hollywood battle, and I suppose it's largely interpretive (in my mind, a 50-ft glamour-queen in an elegant, feather-trimmed gown is blithely slapping a scrawny midriff-baring, thigh-high boots-wearing teen with too much eye makeup and a vacant expression. Take that! And that!). I'm sure - in fact I know - that studios back in the day could be just as money-focused and story-indifferent as they are these days...but perhaps because there is so much more money floating around nowadays, it seems worse. Changing the ends of film adaptations in order to avoid a downer, casting the studio darling instead of the person who would have looked the part...oh, and remaking films that don't need remaking, just because you're sure they'll make you money, without caring about whether they are bringing anything significant to the world....

SIGH.

Maybe it all comes down to money - less chances back then to have a flop? Are there more classics to come out of Old Hollywood? Look at To Kill a Mockingbird, The Philadelphia Story, 12 Angry Men, It Happened One Night, Rear Window and Roman Holiday...they're not perfect films, certainly not from a technical standpoint, but there is more art in those films, and in the way that they do the best with what they've got to create magic.

But here are a few movies that I think have really gone for it with art.

Firstly, and obviously to anyone who has talked to me about films, is Road to Perdition. A gangster movie about family, regret, fear, consequences, but it's so much more. Some of the best Cinematography I've ever seen (by the late Conrad L. Hall) - I mean, there's the most awesome shot of someone smoking a cigarette that I've ever seen, some amazing, telling fades and transitions, and man, there's this scene in the rain, and JAYZUS, it's indescribably beautiful. So there's that. But there's also the Colours - muted, browns, greens, whites, greys, cautiously, tentatively lightening as our protagonists travel through the film, and the white, white sands of the beach at Perdition. And the Music. It just - oh, it just WORKS. It means something.

Also I prefer this poster to the one that happened later (one of those "big faces of the stars over what would have otherwise been quite a moving poster" posters).

Hmm. Quite liking this topic. Now what else...

In which Old Hollywood kicks the CRAP out of New Hollywood

So let me tell you about the movies I've watched recently.

On Saturday, as previously stated, I watched All About Eve, starring Bette Davis and her infamous eyes. This is the story of a great but aging stage actress who meets "her biggest fan", Eve, a meek, sweet-looking girl from Wisconsin (the cheese state) who has seen every performance she's ever done and can you see where this is going? Oh yes, it's the old young-meek-fan-turns-psycho story. Quite chilling, although not as much as it could have been with a different soundtrack. This is where John Williams kicked ass - the music. Ms Davis was quite wonderful in what would become her defining role, really, and I sincerely despised Eve, so I suppose well done to her as well. It's funny, this period in time was one with a lot less in the way of rights for women than now, but I find a lot more to admire in a woman who doesn't need to put a man down in order to stand equally with him. I'm not sure exactly what my point is here, I'm just more impressed with Bette Davis than I am with the cast of Sex and the City.

Incidentally, the number of Oscar Best Picture winners I've seen has reached 46. 34 to go!

Today I saw Inherit the Wind starring Spencer Tracy, Gene Kelly, and that guy who played Col. Potter in M*A*S*H. The fictionalised (which it turns out means something like "same story, different names") story of the Scopes "Monkey" Trial, where a teacher was arrested for teaching Darwin's Theory of Evolution, or, more specifically, for teaching a science that contradicted the idea of divine creation. The film itself was quite intriguing, and a heck of a decent performance from Mr Tracy, and a fine performance from Mr Kelly (excuse me while I amuse myself with the fact that these two people have feminine last-names). Also, apparently, the play on which this film was based was written as a way of criticising the witch-hunts during the McCarthy era, but without being - y'know - arrested for criticising said witch-hunts. Good lord.

Continuing the theme of persecution, I also saw Milk this weekend, and I must say, very well done. Sean Penn, it will not surprise you (or at least those of you who like Mr Penn) was much-deserving of his Oscar for this role, and the whole telling of the story was really, really nice. Shot almost like a documentary, which gave it a sense of realism, and helped, I think, sidestep any over-sentimentality that could have happened. Weirdly enough, the director, Gus Van Sant, is scheduled to make another film based on the same story, called The Mayor of Castro Street, in 2012.

Hollywood is weird.

And while we're on the subject, it turns out that the excellent British film Death At A Funeral, released in 2007, is already being REMADE in America, with American actors and an American script. I find it difficult to express how stupid I find this.

Hollywood is also stupid.

But not always (see previous films). And when I return to the "classics" section of the video store, I'm diving back into the Awesomeness of Old Hollywood.

In which I had an excellent Saturday

Back, having taken a leave of absence to regain some optimism. There are going to be a lot of photos in this one, too, since I've just discovered the little memory disk drive on my computer.

Yesterday I decided to test out a previously injured foot by taking to the park and enjoying the unseasonal sunshine. It was glorious. Ducklings on the water, fluffy grey teenage swans noodling unconcernedly at the grass by the path, dogs and their owners, horses and their riders trotting past - even the joggers didn't annoy me. The sun shone down brightly through the dappling leaves and the wind, while chill, was fresh. I was caught up in the jollification and good humour of it all, and it felt wonderful to be out there. After greeting a westie and his sweet-natured greyhound friend, my foot was giving signals that it was about time to head back, and so I did.

The outdoorsyness was clearly infectious, and after a quick shower I headed out again to a pretty bay where blue and green water lapped at the sandy beach, and a particularly creative four year old sereneded the visitors with a song of his own making: "putting that o-ver therrrrrre, putting this on top, that's how we go, that's how we go, where's the baby? Who's got the baby? Make a little castle, where's the baby gone?"

Incidentally, we never found out where the baby went.

Following that, made the trek up along the cliffside near the ocean, enjoying as I always do the way the water turns turquoise where it breaks on the rocks, and the general feeling of freedom you get when you look out at the open ocean. I've always liked the ocean better than the beach (mostly to do with the amount of sand that I seem to bring home after a day on the dunes) and I think this feeling is part of the reason. The wind picked up as I climbed higher and vied with the warmish sun for control of the climate. Wild rosemary, Christmas bells, delicious-looking berries (it's because they're so red. And juicy-looking. Don't worry, I didn't succumb to temptation) decked the paths all the way to the top of the cliffs, and pockmarked rocks cropped out over the water, where the rain and the ocean spray have sculpted the landscape. And so while I got to know the macro settings of my camera (not all that well, I suspect), the day complied by offering good light, and the wind screwed with my only recently-straightened hair.

Capped off with a hot meal and a screening of All About Eve, and I have to say, there's no one like Bette Davis around anymore.

A very good day.

In which I am grateful

Well it's high time that I stopped whinging to the web-ular world at large. The problem, naturally, is that I don't have enough interesting things going on right at this moment to divert to anything really positive.

Here are things I'm feeling VERY grateful for at the moment:

One: Lovely, blustery autumnal days (oh yes, we're talking about the weather). There are a lot of trees around the balcony, and it looks fantastic with the wind buffeting the branches this way and that and tearing at the leaves...goodness, it all just brings out the poet in me. Whether that poet is any good is difficult to say...

Two: Having someone in the universe to whom you can send a discreet, venting text message to convey your irritation at being surrounded by completely inane conversation. You know, when you're in a conversation that's not so much a conversation as it is a lecture, and the lecture is on things that you really don't agree with. But having somewhere someone who gets your frustration is a real saving-grace.

Three: Having a flatmate who doesn't get mad when you call her, slightly panicked, from a taxi at 10:30 saying "um...just saying hi" because the taxi driver is "lost" and keeps going down dark suburban streets instead of towards home. Not exactly graceful under pressure, but there you go.

Four: Coco Loco Mocha Chillers. My latest thing is going into a bookshop with a cafe, getting a coffee and reading a book that I have no intention of buying. I love this new routine, but feel a bit bad. Are they going to kick me out for this? I'd have to find a new coffee shop, which is a disturbing thought. I like this coffee place. It's a franchise, mass produced, and delicious. Viva capitalism! At least in the form of coffee-shops-in-book-shops.

In which I've been meditating, unintelligibly.

Back again, and feeling more optimistic than I was earlier in the week. But right now, with a belly full of apple juice and feet just gone around the park, I'm feeling the endorphins, baby. Oh yes.

I've been meditating lately on the idea of expectation. People can expect with aggression, judgement, or even unmaliciously, but it still grates. What do they expect? A lunch companion can ask "are you going to eat all of that?" and the word "all" is given italics. Someone can expect you to be more upset than you are and instead of adapting their reaction, keep carrying on as if you're being unreasonably emotional. A conversation can hint at expectations of how you should react to an incident, and secondly can hint that any other reaction is stupid and ignorant, and not, to put it bluntly, the thing that is done in modern society. It doesn't seem an old fashioned thing to expect, but it is. Leather for lace.

I don't think I made much sense up there. Bottom line, I think expectation is one of my least favourite things when imposed on others. Or to put it this way, I don't like being expected to behave in a certain way, and judged when I fail to meet said expectations. Hmm.

Moving on! I've finished another knitting project, and it's ok. It was supposed to be something of an oversized slouchy cap, but in my grand tradition of cap-knitting, it's smaller. Thankfully, where a normal cap would now be too small, this oversize cap is now pretty much the right size for my head. Has a pleasing spiral pattern (observe)



which worked better than I thought it would, especially considering I fudged the instructions from the beginning, since the wool I used was much thicker than the one in the pattern. Anyway, there it is.


Tonight I am eating spaghetti bolognaise (and no, we shall not be shortening it to the odious "spag bol"), which is one of my favourite meals. Hurrah!

In which I just did some exercise!

Today I traversed around Point B's major park, employing an exercise technique suggested to me by a friend: run 100 steps, walk 100 steps. Yikes. I made it half way using this method, before an old injury started to seize up. Still, quite impressed at half way, and I hope I'll be able to keep it up enough to do better in time.

While walking I had plenty to look at, including two black swans and their bebbes (odd time of year, surely, for baby swans), various dogs and at one point a huge gaggle of geese, advancing from the lake to lay waste to the rest of us. Why are geese so much scarier than ducks? Is it because I'm convinced they have teeth, and it's only because no one's managed to get near enough that no one has reported this? Who knows.

Look at them, being all cute and cuddly, until...

AAAACK! Now you tell me those aren't teeth!

The topic of recreational hunting was brought up in conversation recently, and I must confess I'm surprised that a) it exists at all in this country, which after all has a no-guns policy, and b) that anyone - especially in this country, which has none of the history or regrettable need of Africa - should want to do it. Seriously. Ricky Gervais once said that it's the mentality of people who hunt for pleasure that disturbs him, and I'd have to agree (although I also object to the killing of an animal for sport. I eat meat, unapologetically, and so I have been told those two statements don't reconcile with each other...it's not an argument I can address simply, so let's just stick to the "mentality" thing). How can it really offer a rush, and should it? Should we indulge in taking pleasure from another thing's death (this is how I feel about a lot of computer games, but that's another kettle of fish, really)? But this is probably a debate that could go on for infinite web space, and I find it hard to do without sounding judgemental and high-horse...ish. Suffice it to say I'm confused by it all. But then I'm confused by the popularity of the Twilight series, too. :)

Back in the park, today, while I was in the middle of 100 steps of walking, I was passed by a group of cyclists -- there always seems to be a pack (what's the collective noun? Google offers a few peoples' suggestions, including "pedali) of cyclists whizzing round -- and in the brief snatch of conversation I heard "...she ended up marrying his best man, from their wedding!" Hee. Not only deliciously tantalising but hilarious to hear from a bunch of cycle-mad men (I would've said "butch" but it didn't feel right when applied to cyclists). I love imagining the context of this conversation.

Whoever says boys don't gossip as much as girls has no idea.

In which I debate the merits of chocolate cake. And travel. And wayward green pigs.

So a friend has given me a recipe for chocolate-cake-in-a-mug-that-takes-five-minutes. It is, as may well be guessed, disastrous as regards the whole "not gaining weight" thing. But it's the ultimate in comfort food, chocolate. If only it didn't come with the evil, evil calories... And quite unexpectedly, even after my cake-induced moaning and stomach-rubbing the other night, I did the inevitable and made another one last night. Oh yes. I am THAT stupid.

Nice though. Chocolatey.

Moving on. Another friend of mine is in Africa at the moment, and my parents just left for the UK, while my flatmate is five weeks away from jetting to the USA. It's all making me pine for travel, and especially to the first two destinations (I could take or leave America, although DC was pretty great...and Disneyland...). I miss the heat of Africa (although sometimes I could've done without it) and the sunrises and sunsets. The quiet majesty of the mountains and the early morning walks through the jungle up in Hodespruitt. The yawning roars of the lions and the eerie whoops of hyenas. Playing with the honey badgers, and tracking leopards in the camp. I miss the deep bright green of England, and the grey-mossy brown and green of Scotland. I miss the smell of the air, and the sense of history...and the bustle of London, and even the tiny soot-blackened mice that you find running around on the tracks of the underground. It's the things you wouldn't expect to miss, but because they were part of the whole you end up feeling quite sentimental about it all.

Sigh.

Better be careful, or I'll need another chocolate cake!

(Don't do it! cries my poor stomach, while my tastebuds jump up and down in a collective mexican wave, shouting about how the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few)

Yesterday I caught the middle of Disney's Alice in Wonderland cartoon. My word, but Mr Carroll had a special kind of imagination. Excellent use of onomatopoeia. I love words like "brillig" and wabe". Mome raths. They sounded like such sleepy little creatures. Although there's certainly a big difference in what people expect from them. Observe:

versus:

Hmmmm. The original text has Humpty Dumpty describing "raths" as "a sort of green pig", while "mome" is suspected to indicate being lost. One only guesses at how this reached the above depiction at Disney.

Ah well. Time for food!

In which I rescind my criticism of Northanger Abbey

Oh god. Oh god. I just ate more chocolate cake than I should have. Why?? Why didn't I stop?

Mistaaaaaaaaake!

Yesterday I finished reading Northanger Abbey, by Jane Austen, for the first time since university. I wasn't overly fond of it back then, and may have said some rude things about it, but on a second look, I really enjoyed the wryness of her phrasing. It's completely different than her other books, and though it reminds me of a first novel, it's a REALLY GOOD first novel. Poor Catherine's complete naivete and absolute honesty keeps her going through events as the only one who doesn't know what's really going on. Bless her. But perhaps my enjoyment was enhanced by the adaptation I saw a couple of months ago (BBC, starring Felicity Jones: go see it), because they really took the gothic sensibilities to town and had fun with it. Also the character of Isabella Thorpe really reminds me of someone I once knew...

But enough about that.

I've gotten back into knitting, after being taught a while ago by a lovely and talented knitter, and thought I'd put my idle hours to use by make some booties for a cousin of mine who is expecting. If I say so myself, they turned out pretty well, and I'm fairly happy with the job. Using slightly bigger needles will hopefully prevent these booties from being too small as soon as the kid is two minutes old. We'll see.

Today I was on my way home, consoling myself after a recent job interview (this just in: I AM bad at interviews) with a thrifty amount of groceries (these days comfort food is found in apple juice and pasta) when I saw a little black puppy (why is all my news about dogs? Am I becoming a "dog person" in the same way that people become "cat people"?) being slowly chased after by a small child. Small Child's mother said they were trying to catch it so they could see the phone number on the dog tag. Having also just bought some ham at the grocery store I lured the unsuspecting dog close enough to take gentle hold of its collar and call its owner. Having thus restored the poor little bugger to its own yard I felt pretty good about myself.

Obviously, it doesn't take much.

I've been craving junk food recently, which is a very bad sign, since I think my willpower has been eroded slightly in the last few months. It's neck and neck as to whether I gain back the 26 kilos I lost since I last allowed myself to eat whatever I wanted. Oh god. The vicious cycle. If I didn't hate throwing up so much I'd be in danger of becoming bulemic. (Not really. Don't do it, kids!) It's enough to make you hyperventilate. Why isn't lettuce as good at calming an anxiety attack as chocolate? Seems like a massive design flaw, if you ask me.

Lettuce. It's just not the same.

In which communism and chocolate share a blog

In a much better frame of mind today, despite not having yet been contacted by the last people I interviewed with. Huzzah! Inexplicable optimism!

This weekend past I got out and about a bit. Saw a movie (Inkheart: verdict: no. Why is it that production studios can take a great concept and through very little effort at creating a film version of that concept, completely fail to create anything worth watching? A lazy script, poor editing/directing, and failure to allow the audience to connect with any characters, to the point where I didn't know the names of two of them until about halfway through. I'm just saying.), wandered the shops, and badgered pet store employees again with requests to cuddle the little tiny jack russell puppy with the pink stripe on his back (we decided it was done to tell him apart in the litter), and had a chocolate/coffee/icy drink thing. Then visited some markets, an art gallery (how cultured!) and wandered through the park where a lot of people in red shirts were listening to some guy spouting what I took to be a random pile of shit, until I realised he was calling everyone "comrade" and there were people carrying signs and...

Well. Who knew that was an idea people were still bandying around here?

Anyway. Today I tried to stomp out some frustration by circling the park a few times. It did not work, but it gave me enough entitlement points to feel I'd earned the right to have dinner (after lunch I felt really full and, like all reformists, swore never to eat again). Then I got angry at myself for buying into the idea that food is bad for you. It's difficult, when surrounded by people who are, shall we say, very keen about the whole exercise/health/body shape ideal, to keep yourself from sighing in despair at your own reflection. I get quite angry, really, when people take it upon themselves to not only take on the philosophy, but to ensure that they point out to all others they come across that what they're considering eating is "bad for you". As someone who has had to lose quite a bit of weight at one point due to health reasons, and therefore someone who recognises the need to keep a healthy diet, I resent it when people who haven't even been through that kind of thing feel the need to judge. Why are people so intent on stepping into other peoples' business - even their eating habits? If asked, most people would probably disagree with the whole "size zero" culture, and yet they still buy it. And then they expect me to buy it as well.

Well to hell with that. I'm getting some chocolate.

In which I'm in a crappy mood.

Melancholy alert!

Heh. It occurs to me that the above exclamation mark is out of place, given the sentence itself.

Anyway. Wah. I've spent today noodling around on my computer, doing bits and pieces of work and wondering when or if I'll ever get paid for anything again, and why it should all hinge around getting paid, anyway, and why we can't all just be born rich and then feeling bad for assuming no one has it worse than I do. It's a complicated mood. Certainly my prospects of ever doing something I really love are looking bleak, since the world in general doesn't seem all that susceptible to my charms, and today I don't have the energy to buck up my spirits. Today, I am skill-less, direction-less, pointless. Today I am sad.

Had to laugh a minute or so ago when I checked the usual length of time it takes to acquire citizenship from a particular country. The website said 6 months. Try 3.5 years, dipsh*t! Oh yeah, today I'm also depressed about nothing happening re my citizenship application. Pooh!

I'm aware, on some level, that if I wanted to have specific skills I could have trained in them, but at the time a decision had to be made I didn't know anything about what I wanted to -- or could -- do. Nothing I wanted seemed viable, and nothing viable seemed appealing. Sometimes I feel as if I've failed the great exam of Life. Sorry, O, time to sit in the corner with the rest of the D students. Here's a free pen.

Sigh. There's got to be some sort of cathartic therapy to be had in writing all this out, or maybe it'll just depress some other unsuspecting people (sorry about that). It's all just self-pity, I suppose. Again, some part of me knows that there must be plenty of people who have felt like this at some point, and I just have to keep on keeping on, etc. But today I don't want to hear it. I just want to curl up in the foetal position, moan softly and daydream.

Ho hum.

In which all is warm and cosy in the apartment.

Tonight I sit in my room while the sky outside purples and the cool air rushes in and blows my picture frames precariously about on the walls. I probably should go and check that one by the curtains, but there's a perverse pleasure to be had in waiting to see how long it'll last.

It all reminds me of the faraway Point C (where I ultimately wish to live), and I'm going to have to resist the urge to hole up in here all evening. I've been grocery shopping, and I'm enjoying the feeling you get in your feet after you've taken your shoes off following an hour or so of walking. Mmm.

The year is wearing on, and I'm determined to stay positive, re my prospects of finding a job/satisfaction in the city of Point B. Nevertheless, the travel bug has infiltrated my defences and keeps buzzing on about far off places and adventures to be had. If only someone would pay me to travel about and enjoy myself. Seems like a breakdown in priorities, if you ask me.

This last weekend I engaged in an ill-advised pasttime: gambling. Only ill-advised if you're like me, and have absolutely no luck of any kind with respect to these things. Pleasing enough to get all dressed up and sit under an umbrella, bobbing up every now and then to hang by the railings to watch the horses thunder past, though. The general toffery doesn't extend to the manners of the punters, though. No chivalry to be seen amongst the men, and the women, though faring slightly better, tended to be much more concerned with how they looked than with paying attention to what was around them (including people trying to navigate past with a drink). Still, it's always amusing to hear a bunch of people in suits and dresses start yelling "GO ZAPPERS!" at the top of their lungs.

Mostly, I liked looking at the horses - really fine creatures, and I kept looking longingly after the grey Racecourse horses as they cantered after the winners. I'm going to have to visit the nearby park and its horses soon.

Ack! It's raining! Batten down the hatches!

In which puddles and dogs are fun, but moving is not.

If there is one thing to be said about my current residence at Point B, it is the view of the city skyline, and in particular, the sky itself. Tonight, for instance, there is a spectacular lightning display flashing across the eastern sky, and it's only a recent article on multiple lightning strike victims that keeps us from opening the balcony door to the elements. One section of the sky is actually a luminous green, which isn't something I've seen before. The torrential quality of the rain is something to delight in, too, although 24 hours ago was a different story.

I'd just done a round of grocery shopping, possibly too much, although I still managed to forget the potatoes, and when I stepped on the bus it began. Rain. Lots of it. And when I stepped off the bus there was even more of it. Gushing all over the road and making the usually short walk home seem an eternity. There were two options, but waiting it out seemed like a futile one. And so instead I braved the wet and walked home. In thirty seconds I was soaked to the skin. And yet after a while there was something nice in not worrying about getting any wetter.

Puddles are fun.

All other news is somewhat limited to me taking a walk in the park, and today hijacking two scottish terriers (one white, one black) under the pretence of checking my foot for blisters (in something of an irony there was a massive one on my toe). Adorable things, although I was belatedly told that the black one had fleas. Sure, I probably shouldn't have gone and started cuddling strange dogs, but what is it with me and this kind of eventuality? (See previous blogs on the subject of ringworm in cats) Also am continuing to pass by a couple walking a teeny tiny black poodle which honestly looks as though it's the bounciest, fluffiest tiniest thing ever to walk on four legs. Its owners don't tend to let it out of their sight, though, so I'll have to stage another blister-check at some point. Nevertheless, dogs, like puddles, are fun.

You know what else is fun? Not moving, that's what! And after this weekend I finally have my stuff moved in, and after a brief setback involving hanging pictures, a heavy frame, and a crash in the middle of the night over my bed, things are well here in point B.

Now all I need is employment. Hmm.

In which I have too much time on my hands

Tonight my flatmates have much more glamorous things to do, so I'm holding up the watching-tv-alone fort on my own. It's ok, actually; I've got a nice view over the city of Point B, the air is flowing nicely through the flat, and salt and pepper squid in the oven....which I should probably check on.

And now that I've spent fifteen minutes trying to cleanse my eye of the oil/garlic/chilli that spattered with alarming specificity into my eye, I've decided that experimentation in the kitchen is not for me. I wonder if your eyeball can blister...

Anyway. Today I dipped back into some old writing work, and currently am toying with a particular character who seems to be lacking in, well, character. I tend to insert pieces of my own personality into my character, and it seems poor old Lucy displays my boring and safe side. She needs to shake it up a little.

Me: Hey, Lucy. I've been rethinking your character. I don't want you to revert to the stereotypical action girl, but do you think we could try something a little more rounded?

Lucy: You mean, sarcastic and sparkling?

Me: Too 'Elizabeth Bennett'.

Lucy: What about giggly and self-absorbed?

Me: I'm pretty sure that's taken.

Lucy: Can't you try developing a completely ordinary character?

Me: Well, yes, but even ordinary people are more than spectators in their own stories.

Lucy: Rude!

Me: I tell it like it is, babycakes.

Lucy: I hope you're just trying to shock me into new characteristics.

Me: I'll let you know if you start displaying any.

See, now I'm just beating up on a fictional character. This, my friends, is what comes of having too much time on your hands.

Meanwhile, I'm looking for work, in the sense that I spend a lot of time looking at jobs and thinking that I'm never going to get hired to do anything because I'm trained for nothing. Stupid lack of interest in law. So if anyone out there hears of a fabulous position that pays well and comes with compulsory puppy-cuddling, let me know. Maybe I should just go and play with the worms in the garden.

Time for dessert.

In which I'm never moving again ever.

It was somewhere about halfway between point A and point B where my car decided enough was enough.

I'd left the rest stop about ten minutes ago, and happened to glance at the temperature gauge only to discover that it was quite decisively on "high". In fact, it looked as though it would have gone straight past "high" to "I'm dying, I'm dying, oh god the heat" if there had been room on the gauge. Then the accelerator chimed in with a delightful rattle every time I pressed down. Wondering if I could coast the next 100 or so kilometres to point B and deciding this was probably not an option, I did what any young person of the world would do.

I called my Dad.

Long story short, I got onto the friendly roadside assist people, tried not to think about horror movies, and waited for the tow truck, who took me into the nearest town and dropped me and my car-shaped bundle of overheated pieces at the mechanics. Turns out I'd blown a gasket (ok, the CAR had blown a gasket) which was going to cost more than my car was worth to fix. End result, I am now without a car. Poor Dad had to drive the 200-odd kilometres from point A to come rescue me and my car-load of possessions bound for the new digs in point B.

SUCH a smooth transition.

While I'm still without car, and now aware of how gloriously un-fit I am (never, ever move into a building without a lift. EVER), I'm at least moved-in, and apart from the empty boxes in the corner, the fact that I haven't got any clothes hangers, and that most of my books and dvds and tv have not yet arrived, it's a nice clean room, and it is mine. Hurrah!

Decided not to venture out any more today, as it seems uncommonly unfair to expect it. Of course, I'm not sure what I'll do about dinner. The contents of my cupboard include pasta, tinned fruit, sprinkles (left over from when I was giving a lesson on how to make fairy-bread-men) and various other herbs and spices. Also a box of porridge oats. Hmm. This could be the best, or the worst meal ever eaten...

I've got big ideas.

In which I spend a lot of time talking about my dog

Last night I caved and let the dog stay outside. He was there at the back of his kennel looking forlornly out with his great brown eyes. Also it was cold and I was tired, so I let him stay out.

A couple of hours later this was proved to have been rather a colossal mistake, as I awoke to quite a lot of grumpy, incessant and pointless barking. At the back gate. Now my beloved puppy is getting on in years and has limited powers of hearing and sight, so it's quite possible that he was actually barking at the gate. Nevertheless, I was awake, and so to stem the flow of notes from neighbours in the morning, I stomped out to catch the little bugger. Unfortunately the aforementioned lessening of senses in the Little Master prevented him from actually recognising me or my patented stop-your-barking glare, and so instead of trotting guiltily up to admit his wrongdoing, poor little frightened puppy yapped like crazy and ran straight off to the safety of his kennel. Felt rather bad about this so instead of chastising I had to comfort him and carry him inside. Think he was quite glad to be inside after all that.

So you see the quality of these posts has dwindled somewhat following the Oscars. And while fly swatting and doggy anecdotes may amuse one or two (all this depending on there being more than one person reading this post -- unlikely), it ain't gonna pay the rent, so I'll try to have some more interesting adventures. Maybe I'd better go to Paris or something...

I'm moving to another city on Friday and have not exactly finished packing, in the traditional sense of the world. This is fairly indicative of my personality, and starting to concern me a little. The whole move is concerning me, if truth be told. It's not a different country or anything (more's the pity) but still, I think it's going to be more difficult than I first envisioned. Mostly because I'm not the world's biggest fan of this city ("yet", the more optimistic part of me adds), and so it's going to take a bit of work to feel at home. Nothing to do but jump in and try, I suppose. One-two-three go!

It's approaching my bedtime, and the Little Master has just fallen asleep, so it's the perfect time to carry him to his basket in the laundry. Nighty night.

In which I am the fly killer, feared by all!

Yes, it's true. Mid-air fly-swat, people. Mr Miyagi's got nothing on me. Except he did it with chopsticks. I guess.

So this morning I got up at 5am (or, you know, thereabouts) to drive out and watch the balloon festival. Still pretty dark, but the smell of dutch pancakes was in the air, and someone was doing a fairly bad job of radio commentary. Nevermind, balloons! Right?....Right?

WRONG! Stupid prevailing winds. And where's the challenge if you're going to give up over a little breeze? These balloonists need to toughen up, that's what.

Anyway, I have to do it again tomorrow morning. Ugh.

Ah yes, the Oscars. Remember them? I was on the whole quite pleased with it. Thought Hugh Jackman did a pretty good job of entertaining, and while I was thrown by the fact that Jack "How Long Til We Can Cut to Nicholson" Nicholson was nowhere to be seen, I was mollified by Jackman's "home made" opening number. So:

In which we were pleased:
Danny Boyle. Just awesome. He was so excited.
The Slumdog Millionaire kids on the red carpet - they. Are. Fantastic.
Sean Penn winning (let out the biggest gasp at that point) and his acceptance speech.
Tina Fey and Steve Martin's "religion about aliens that they made up".
Kate Winslet's dad whistling to indicate his position in the audience. Awww.
Heath Ledger's win. YES I CRIED. I'm only human.
Two acceptance speeches in particular: Man On Wire, where the guy DID MAGIC ON STAGE (I mean seriously, more of that, please), and the winner for "The House of Little Cubes" ending his speech with "Domo arigato, Mr Roboto". Hell YES.

In which we could have been more pleased:
Not sure I'm loving the "five actors/actresses present the acting nominees one by one". Takes longer than a clips show, for one thing, and for another, I was really looking forward to Robert Downey's clip.
Also the creative camera movement during the In Memoriam segment. Seriously. Now is not the time, guys.

But on the whole, pretty damn good. Ich bin pleased.

In which there are no more sleeps!

Well, if you're reading this, I guess you asked for it:


Best Picture
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Frost/Nixon
Milk
The Reader
Slumdog Millionaire

It seems like it's pretty much a given here that Slumdog Millionaire will take out the big prize. And I'm pretty damn happy with that. I never saw Milk or The Reader, but I'm still pulling for Slumdog. It's a really touching film, and manages, despite such despair and pain, to leave you feeling really good. I'd be just as happy if Frost/Nixon won, but I'd say the runner up is Milk, and possibly (though not necessarily justifiably) The Curious Case of Benjamin Button.

Who Should Win: Slumdog Millionaire
Who Will Win: Slumdog Millionaire

Best Director
Danny Boyle for Slumdog Millionaire
Stephen Daldry for The Reader
David Fincher for The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Ron Howard for Frost/Nixon
Gus Van Sant for Milk

It's funny that it's sort of unusual for all the directors whose films have been nominated for Picture to show up here in the Director category. Ususally there's a wildcard, but here I think they've got it right (Batman fans will disagree, and possibly Chris Nolan should have been considered). Frost/Nixon is Howard's most subtle film to date, and it's really elegantly handled. I was really impressed with it. Benjamin Button is capable, and looks gorgeous, but possibly a tad overlong. I think, though, that Mr Boyle is going to get his just desserts for Slumdog. And when you look at the film, it's really hard to argue with that.

Who Should Win: Danny Boyle for Slumdog Millionaire
Who Will Win: Danny Boyle for Slumdog Millionaire


Best Actor
Richard Jenkins for The Visitor
Frank Langella for Frost/Nixon
Sean Penn for Milk
Brad Pitt for The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Mickey Rourke for The Wrestler

Oh, Frank Langella. How I wish you would win in this category. He's amazing as Nixon, and he's certainly paid his dues. Sadly, I don't think he'll get it. I haven't seen The Wrestler, so I can't really comment, but by all accounts Mickey Rourke is the one to beat here. He certainly gives a great acceptance speech, so there's that to look forward to (hands on buzzers, censors!). If it's not Rourke, I think it's Penn's again, although the Academy has never been a fan of his. Pitt has done better (see Burn After Reading), and Richard Jenkins is too much of a wild card.

Who Should Win: Frank Langella for Frost/Nixon
Who Will Win: Mickey Rourke for The Wrestler


Best Actress
Anne Hathaway for Rachel Getting Married
Angelina Jolie for The Changeling
Melissa Leo for Frozen River
Meryl Streep for Doubt
Kate Winslet for The Reader


Speaking of people who have paid their dues. Kate Winslet has been nominated, what, five times now? Give the girl the damn Oscar! It's pretty much Winslet's to lose, although Ms Streep, who gives a powerhouse performance in Doubt, can never really be discounted. And while there's a big to do about whether filmmakers are using the Holocaust to gain awards (seems a pretty dumb thing to say, if you ask me) I still do hope that Kate mentions Ricky Gervais in her speech.

Who Should Win: Kate Winslet for The Reader
Who Will Win: Kate Winslet for The Reader

Best Supporting Actor
Josh Brolin for Milk
Robert Downey Jr for Tropic Thunder
Philip Seymour "Icky Man" Hoffman for Doubt
Heath Ledger for The Dark Knight
Michael Shannon for Revolutionary Road


This is the one people are calling a lock. It's Ledger's,
they say. And I tell you what, the Academy is facing a riot if it's not. And I do believe that it's not just sentimental. I think he really earned it with this role. Anyone who can look that demented and terrifying in a nurse's uniform knows what they're doing. You watch this tour de force (look at me, being all French) and you really do feel how much of a loss it is that such a talent is gone. Michael Shannon, it has to be said, is in Revolutionary Road for about five minutes, but jayzus, he packs a punch. I'm looking forward to Robert Downey Jr's clip the most, and I'm hoping it's the "you people" scene. As for Mr Ledger, I'm gunning for the pencil scene, not just because of the magic trick, but because I think that was some damn fine acting.

Who Should Win: Heath Ledger for The Dark Knight
Who Will Win: Heath Ledger for The Dark Knight


Best Supporting Actress
Amy Adams for Doubt
Penelope Cruz for Vicky Cristina Barcelona
Viola Davis for Doubt
Taraji P. Henson for The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Marisa Tomei for The Wrestler


This one really could be anyone's Oscar. I'm leaning towards Cruz, because I think she's better than her earlier movies (Vanilla Sky, All the Pretty Horses) indicated. Otherwise, it could be Tomei, about whom much has been said (see Rourke's BAFTA speech: "I think she was very brave to take her clothes off...I enjoyed looking at her") -- no no! Of her performance. But there's still a little ill will there in the Academy for her My Cousin Vinny Oscar (legend has it that the presenter, one Jack Palance, may have been a little drunk and read out the wrong name...). I really liked Taraji P. Henson, and Viola Davis (again, about 5 minutes on screen) was powerful, but I'm going with Cruz.

Who Should Win: Penelope Cruz for Vicky Cristina Barcelona
Who Will Win: Penelope Cruz for Vicky Cristina Barcelona



Best Original Screenplay
Frozen River
Happy-Go-Lucky
In Bruges
Milk
Wall*E

I do think it's rough that neither Sally Hawkins for Happy-Go-Lucky or Colin Farrell for In Bruges got a nomination, despite both of them winning at the Golden Globes. Nevertheless. I'd say it's between In Bruges and Wall*E, but that my just be because I'd love to see Pixar get recognition for bringing intelligent, witty stories back to animation. Possibly the BAFTAs have given In Bruges an edge, and I wouldn't mind if it won, really.

Who Should Win: Wall*E
Who Will Win: In Bruges


Best Adapted Screenplay
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Doubt
Frost/Nixon
The Reader
Slumdog Millionaire



Again, it's kind of open, although I do think that Slumdog deserves all its nominations to be awarded. It feels odd having that much confidence in a movie, but there you go. If it's not Slumdog, I'd really, REALLY like it to be Frost/Nixon, based on the play that both lead actors starred in prior to the film. I just want this film to win something, damnit!

Who Should Win: Slumdog Millionaire
Who Will Win: Slumdog Millionaire

Best Cinematography
Changeling
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
The Dark Knight
The Reader
Slumdog Millionaire

Again, I think Slumdog earned this one, but if not, I'd be happy to see it go to Wally Pfister for The Dark Knight. He's won a couple of cinematography awards so far, so it's not that unlikely. (Sorry these are getting short, but I'm running against the clock here!)

Who Should Win: Slumdog Millionaire
Who Will Win: Slumdog Millionaire


Best Editing
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
The Dark Knight
Frost/Nixon
Milk
Slumdog Millionaire

I'm thinking it's one of three: The Dark Knight, Frost/Nixon or Slumdog Millionaire, and I think that the one for which it was most significantly used was Slumdog.

Who Should Win: Slumdog Millionaire
Who Will Win: Slumdog Millionaire

Best Art Direction
Changeling
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
The Dark Knight
The Duchess
Revolutionary Road

Hmmm. Lost of period dramas here, but I think perhaps The Dark Knight's elaborate sets will push it over the line. Possibly not far enough to beat The Duchess, as we all know how much the Academy likes ye olde extravagancee.

Who Should Win: The Dark Knight
Who Will Win: The Duchess

Best Costume
Australia
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
The Dark Knight
The Duchess
Revolutionary Road

It's all about fantasy and periods. Mostly periods. And while I love the Joker's costume in The Dark Knight, I think it's more likely that either The Duchess or Australia (because you never discount Catherine Martin) will win.

Who Should Win: The Dark Knight
Who Will Win: The Duchess

Best Makeup
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
The Dark Knight
Hellboy 2: The Golden Army



Another person you can't ever discount in the artistic
categories is Guillarmo Del Toro's crew. So don't be surprised if there's an upset by Hellboy 2. As it is, I think it'll be Benjamin Button's major win. And when you look at Mr Pitt it's kind of understandable.

Who Should Win: The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Who Will Win: The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

Original Score
Alexandre Desplat for The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
James Newton Howard for Defiance
Danny Elfman for Milk
A. R. Rahman for Slumdog Millionaire
Thomas Newman for WALL*E



I love saying Alexandre Desplat. I'm really, really pulling for Mr Newman, although that probably comes as no surprise. It's probably going to be A. R. Rahman, and that's kind of ok, because I'd like Newman to win it for something really extraordinary.

Who Should Win: Thomas Newman for WALL*E
Who Will Win: A. R. Rahman for Slumdog Millionaire

Original Song

"Jai Ho" from Slumdog Millionaire

"O Saya" from Slumdog Millionaire

"Down to Earth" from WALL*E

Dear Oscar God. If Thomas Newman can't win for Original Score, please let him win for the Song instead. Having said that, the Slumdog songs are so catchy...

Who Should Win: "Down to Earth" from WALL*E
Who Will Win: "Down to Earth" from WALL*E

Best Sound
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (I now hate this movie for its long title)
The Dark Knight
Slumdog Millionaire
WALL*E
Wanted

I'd say The Dark Knight has a clear shot here.

Who Should Win: The Dark Knight
Who Will Win: The Dark Knight

Best Sound Editing
The Dark Knight
Iron Man
Slumdog Millionaire
WALL*E
Wanted

So much has been said about WALL*E's sound, and all of it manufactured in a junkyard, that I think it might FINALLY be Pixar's time for an Oscar here. Yaaay!


Who Should Win: WALL*E
Who Will Win: WALL*E


Best Visual Effects
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (CURSES)
The Dark Knight
Iron Man



This one I think is either Iron Man's or BB's (yeah, I'm not even going to try). Maybe Brad Pitt's transformation from old to cute.

Who Should Win: That Button film.
Who Will Win: That Button film.

Best Animated Film
Bolt
Kung Fu Panda
WALL*E

If it's not WALL*E, I really don't know what they think they're doing. Such an adorable film about a really gorgeous character.

Who Should Win: WALL*E
Who Will Win: WALL*E

Best Foreign Language Film
Der Baader Meinhoff Komplex
Entre les Murs
Revanche
Okuribito
Vals Im Bashir

The only one I've heard of, and it's gotten some really high praise.

Who Should Win:Vals Im Bashir
Who Will Win: Vals Im Bashir

Best Documentary, Feature
The Betrayal - Nerakhoon
Encounters at the End of the World
The Garden
Man On Wire
Trouble the Water

One. You don't often hear a lot about documentaries, and this one just won the BAFTA for best British Film. Two. It looks freaking TERRIFYING.

Who Should Win: Man on Wire
Who Will Win: Man on Wire

Best Documentary, Short

The Conscience of Nhem En
The Final Inch
Smile Pinki
The Witness from the Balcony of Room 306


No idea. Let's go for Smile Pinki. And that balcony one.

Who Should Win: Smile Pinki
Who Will Win: The Witness from the Balcony of Room 306

Best Short film, Animated
Les Maison en petits cubes
Ubornaya istoriya - lyubovnaya istoriya
Oktapodi
Presto
This Way Up


Presto is AWESOME. Although I do REALLY like the House of the Little Cubes.



Who Should Win: Presto!
Who Will Win: Presto!


Best Short film, Live Action
Auf de Strecke
Manon sur le bitume
New Boy
Grisen
Spielzeugland

Er.....um....


Who Should Win: Auf de Strecke
Who Will Win: New Boy

THAT's IT! Phew! In the nick of time! Good luck everyone!!