Youth Crime
Amid Tony Blair’s comments on criminal justice this week was a suggestion that young people might be tested or monitored in schools to identify those who were at risk of becoming criminals. At the moment there are not too many details of how this might work and I write this from the fortunate position of being in Scotland where such proposals wouldn’t apply – the Scottish Executive is yet to display quite so much lunacy in its thinking. However, this suggestion is not only misguided, it is deeply concerning to me on a number of levels.
1. Could it actually be done? Is there any accurate way of predicting which young people would become criminals? Well, firstly lets face it, we’re not talking all kinds of crime here – they won’t be going round private schools trying to identify children at risk of becoming high level fraudsters. It is largely blue-collar crime they will be thinking of. Yes, there are risk factors for these things, which are similar to the risk for many other problems – we might think of poverty, family breakdown, social isolation, violence in the family, parental drug or alcohol misuse or low self-esteem. But the truth is that not everybody with these factors in their lives will embark on a life of crime. Many manage to negotiate a way through to adulthood.
2. Having identified these young people as potential criminals, is there any way of intervening that doesn’t bring with it a stigmatisation? A stigmatisation that would make it harder for the young people to follow a constructive path and further increase the likelihood of their getting involved in criminal activities. Thus the policy becomes self-defeating and the label put on the young people becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. You don’t need to be a genius to see that young people who are viewed in an almost entirely negative manner will develop the behaviours to match.
3. There is something about the whole idea that sits very uncomfortably with the idea of innocent until proven guilty (an idea which the current government seem to have done more to undermine than the governments on the previous 100 years put together). How can young people be brought into contact with the criminal justice system on the basis of what they may do in the future? They’re not criminals and that’s certainly not justice.
If the government is serious about doing something about this issue, then they need to accept that there is no short-term fix. They need to get serious about tackling, not the young people, but the factors that put them at risk in the first place. They need to put effort into promoting the factors that have been shown to provide resilience for young people – positive relationships with adults, positive involvement in their community, having their voices heard and being able to hold a positive idea of themselves. Unfortunately this wouldn’t necessary bring results in convenient time for the next election and may lack the attention-grabbing headlines.
It is my privilege to work with young people, most of whom would be affected by many, if not all of the risk factors that could be identified. Of those young people, some will flirt with crime as part of their teenage years, but only a very small minority of them will end up getting heavily involved. However, all of them have interesting things to say and a contribution to make if we only take the time to listen. Much though I cringe at David Cameron’s “hug a hoodie” sentiments, his attitude does seem closer to the mark than that of Mr Blair. We already live in a society that is marginalizing and stigmatising our next generation. We seem caught in a vicious circle where we fear young people who in turn (justifiably?) feel that they are not welcome in our society and act accordingly. We don’t need to go further down that road, Mr Blair.
Sound Bite Culture
Of course, all of this is further example of how our politics is governed by the soundbite. The thing that nobody will tell you is that it always has been, even before we had sound media. “Workers of the world unite – you have nothing to lose bit your chains.” – great soundbite there. “We shall fight them on the beaches…” and so on.
At the risk of putting on my rose tinted spectacles, the difference to me seems to be this. In the past there seem to have been more people who actually stood for something and then tried to distil that idea, philosophy or ideology into a soundbite that would grab people’s attention. Nowadays, we seem to start by trying to find a good soundbite and then drawing up a policy to fit it, hence some of the crazy ideas that float around Westminster.
The depressing thing is that it seems unclear what many modern politicians actually stand for – Labour lurches right, the Tories drift left, the Lib Dems feel squeezed in the middle and flap about trying to work out who they are. They all seem to want power, but aren’t conveying any clear sense of why or what they want to achieve. For example, David Cameron got himself elected leader of the conservative party and then started thinking about what the party would campaign for under him. Have we not got things a bit backwards. And the politicians wonder why nobody can be bothered to turn out and vote.
Elections.
Which brings me on to elections. On May 3rd in Scotland we have elections both to the Scottish Parliament and to local councils – this means we have 3 different votes to cast, all using a different system of voting. First we vote for our constituency MSP on a first past the post system, then the regional MSPs on a top-up list system of proportional representation, finally the council will be elected on a single transferable vote system. When the European elections roll around they will use yet another system. I’m all in favour of PR – I think electoral reform is long overdue and its about time Westminster elections were part of it as well, but does it need to be so many different systems. My head’s beginning to hurt just thinking about it.
Meanwhile, at the moment I’m still a floating voter – the last few elections I’ve despaired at how little I’ve been told about what those seeking my vote would actually do with it should they get in. They’ve seemed more interested in telling me what the others had done wrong. The last European elections, nobody seemed to tell me anything at all – it seemed that even the parties couldn’t be bothered with the elections and then have the audacity to complain about low turn out. Come on guys, my vote s here to be won.
So, a final encouragement – if you have a vote on 3rd May, use it, but use it for somebody who’s setting out a positive agenda you can agree with, not throwing stones from the sidelines.
Saturday, 31 March 2007
Friday, 30 March 2007
Amazing Grace, Catch a Fire, 300
Amazing Grace – 4/5
OK, first thing to say is that I’m going to limit myself to talking about the film and not the wider issues and controversy surrounding the anniversary of abolition. Personally, I think a recognition that this didn’t end the misery for many Africans and that there is still so much slavery in the world today is not mutually exclusive to remembering the life of a remarkable man and a significant step on the path to freedom and justice. Those who wish more information on what they can do about the situation today might like to follow the anti-slavery or amnesty links at the side here, or check out the Breaking the chains, not rattling them posts on Rupert’s blog.
Back to the film. Films like Amazing Grace present something of a challenge to write about because it is difficult weigh up the merits of the film separately from the power of the subject they deal with. Wilberforce and Newton were remarkable men, their stories are both challenging and inspiring. It would actually be quite difficult to make a bad film from this material. That said, I was gripped, moved, challenged and maybe even a bit inspired by this film.
The film starts with Wilberforce a broken man – beaten down by failing health and failed efforts to get his abolition bill passed. The story up to that point is then told in flashback, before we follow him back into the fight and to ultimate success. Personally I was moved by the initial internal battle he faced between wanting to serve God (presumably in the clergy) or stay in parliament and try to change things and the growing revelation that the best way to serve God was the political route (which today may not seem too radical an idea, but maybe was more so at the time). Equally moving was the sight of this beaten down man getting back into the fight.
Ioan Gruffudd (Hornblower, The Fantastic Four), whilst not perfect by some way and maybe slightly short of somebody who was renowned as one if parliament’s best orators, gives his best performance to date and conveys the passion, earnestness and conviction of the man. The underated Romola Garai (I Capture the Castle, Inside I’m Dancing) again gives a solid performance as the romantic interest and inspiration for Wilberforce to resume his struggle. (All this despite one of the most amusingly unsubtle and disastrous attempts at match-making by mutual friends you’ll ever see).
The rest of the casting is almost note perfect. Michael Gambon and Ciaran Hinds great in underdeveloped roles as opposing politicians with vastly differing degrees of honour. (As a minor quibble, it would have been nice to see more of Gambon in particular, and especially more on why exactly he crossed the floor to join Wilberforce’s crusade). Rufus Sewell (last seen in the The Illusionist) clearly relishes the opportunity to play a part that is neither (a) very posh or (b) an evil bastard. Benedict Cumberbatch (apart from having the greatest name in cinema at the moment) confirms the promise he showed in Starter for 10 with another eye-catching performance as William Pitt. However the acting plaudits here all belong to Albert Finney’s excellent turn as John Newton, preacher and author of the titular hymn. His moving, human, portrayal of an old man still trying to deal with the ghosts of his former life as a slave trader provides the emotional heartbeat to the film, and his eventual ‘confession’ is the biggest tear-jerker here.
All in all this is a good film about a great man with interesting things to say about faith and justice and freedom, but also guilt and redemption and, dare I say it, grace. As such it stands as a fitting tribute to Wilberforce and comes highly recommended (at least by me).
Catch a Fire – 4/5
The latest film from director Phillip Noyce (Rabbit Proof Fence) tackles apartheid era South Africa. It tells the real life story of Patrick Chamusso – a good man (but no saint), wrongly arrested and tortured for an act of terrorism at the plant where he worked. His experiences set him on the path where he became an ANC fighter/terrorist in reality. As such the film touches on the age old issues of where the boundary between terrorist and freedom fighter lie and what action is justified by extraordinary circumstances, but offers no easy answers. There is a cost to the choices Patrick makes and no easy morality. The current context in which this film is released only heightens the relevance of these questions.
Derek Luke (Antwone Fisher) is a revelation as Patrick – a stunning, complex performance confirming that he is a young actor to keep an eye on. He conveys the complexity of a man struggling to do the right thing, torn between his family and his desire not to let them get away with what they did to him again. Opposite him we have police colonel Nic Vos (an amalgamation of several real life figures) played by Tim Robbins in what is possibly his finest performance since The Shawshank Redemption. This is no cardboard cut-out baddie figure and Robbins lends him some dignity – here is another family man, convinced he is doing the right thing to protect his country and his family. He has some kind of dignity and honour – he refuses to use a confession to convict a man he knows to be innocent. However, his brutal methods, including the torture of Patrick’s wife and at a later point forcing a child to watch the beating of his uncle in order to get information from him, prove self-defeating as he sets the unpoliticised Patrick on the road towards the ANC.
These two towering performances drive forward this intelligent and thought-provoking drama, whilst other characters are mere sketches. The torture scenes are thankfully not too graphic, but powerful enough to convey a sense of what was going on. Patrick’s radicalisation is dealt with swiftly, but believably. The frustration with the film, if there is one, is that clips of the real Chamusso over the closing credits make it clear that what we have here is only half the story, only half of Patrick’s journey. In real life he now runs a home for over 80 orphans and has embraced Mandela’s philosophy that, in order to be genuinely free, black South Africans need to forgive. Patrick’s years in prison and inner journey from convicted terrorist to that point of forgiveness would surely have made a film at least as interesting as the one we have hear.
Vos also remains a frustrating enigma at the end – one final glimpse of him, seemingly a broken man, without his family – leaves us with questions. How did he deal with the collapse of apartheid? Did he realise his role in making an activist out of Patrick? What happened to him in the end? Part of you would like some redemptive moment for him, which is a tribute to Robbins’ performance. However, as there was no one Vos in real life, maybe an answer to these questions would have struck a false note.
Overall, there may have been an ever better film in the material, but what we have is a good, intelligent thriller which recognises the complexity of these difficult issues. It might lack the raw emotional punch of Last King of Scotland or Blood Diamond, but is probably the more realistic and better for it. (And finally, a Western film about Africa with a black hero!)
300 - 3/5
It is undoubtedly true that the story of how 300 Spartan warriors held back the vastly superior numbers of the Persian empire at Thermopylae would make a great historical epic. 300 is not that film. For starters what we’re dealing with here belongs more in the realm of fantasy than history. Secondly, this is a deeply flawed film – the script is almost as clunky as the (at times) intrusive soundtrack. Gerard Butler (The Phantom of the Opera) shouts and spits his way through every line he has as Leonidas, King of Sparta. And the eventual demise of these heroic Spartans is a curiously unmoving affair on an emotional level.
Furthermore this is a film that wears its borrowings on its sleeves, most notably The Lord of the Rings, Gladiator and a final scene straight out of Braveheart. This film’s main, if not only, plus point is its visual spectacle. But boy, is it a strong plus point. The film looks great. As with Sin City, the movie has tried to capture the look of Frank Miller’s graphic novel. The bronzes and reds of the Spartans dominate the otherwise muted colour-scheme. The battle scenes are gory, yes, but possibly the most spectacular and well choreographed since Aragon drove back the hordes of Mordor (although the director does tend to overuse the slow motion moment). As such the fantastical nature of many of the Persian hordes adds to the drama rather than detracting from it.
If you’re offended by violence, steer well clear. Otherwise this film is shallow and hollow, but visually stunning and entertaining enough to keep your attention for its running time.
OK, first thing to say is that I’m going to limit myself to talking about the film and not the wider issues and controversy surrounding the anniversary of abolition. Personally, I think a recognition that this didn’t end the misery for many Africans and that there is still so much slavery in the world today is not mutually exclusive to remembering the life of a remarkable man and a significant step on the path to freedom and justice. Those who wish more information on what they can do about the situation today might like to follow the anti-slavery or amnesty links at the side here, or check out the Breaking the chains, not rattling them posts on Rupert’s blog.
Back to the film. Films like Amazing Grace present something of a challenge to write about because it is difficult weigh up the merits of the film separately from the power of the subject they deal with. Wilberforce and Newton were remarkable men, their stories are both challenging and inspiring. It would actually be quite difficult to make a bad film from this material. That said, I was gripped, moved, challenged and maybe even a bit inspired by this film.
The film starts with Wilberforce a broken man – beaten down by failing health and failed efforts to get his abolition bill passed. The story up to that point is then told in flashback, before we follow him back into the fight and to ultimate success. Personally I was moved by the initial internal battle he faced between wanting to serve God (presumably in the clergy) or stay in parliament and try to change things and the growing revelation that the best way to serve God was the political route (which today may not seem too radical an idea, but maybe was more so at the time). Equally moving was the sight of this beaten down man getting back into the fight.
Ioan Gruffudd (Hornblower, The Fantastic Four), whilst not perfect by some way and maybe slightly short of somebody who was renowned as one if parliament’s best orators, gives his best performance to date and conveys the passion, earnestness and conviction of the man. The underated Romola Garai (I Capture the Castle, Inside I’m Dancing) again gives a solid performance as the romantic interest and inspiration for Wilberforce to resume his struggle. (All this despite one of the most amusingly unsubtle and disastrous attempts at match-making by mutual friends you’ll ever see).
The rest of the casting is almost note perfect. Michael Gambon and Ciaran Hinds great in underdeveloped roles as opposing politicians with vastly differing degrees of honour. (As a minor quibble, it would have been nice to see more of Gambon in particular, and especially more on why exactly he crossed the floor to join Wilberforce’s crusade). Rufus Sewell (last seen in the The Illusionist) clearly relishes the opportunity to play a part that is neither (a) very posh or (b) an evil bastard. Benedict Cumberbatch (apart from having the greatest name in cinema at the moment) confirms the promise he showed in Starter for 10 with another eye-catching performance as William Pitt. However the acting plaudits here all belong to Albert Finney’s excellent turn as John Newton, preacher and author of the titular hymn. His moving, human, portrayal of an old man still trying to deal with the ghosts of his former life as a slave trader provides the emotional heartbeat to the film, and his eventual ‘confession’ is the biggest tear-jerker here.
All in all this is a good film about a great man with interesting things to say about faith and justice and freedom, but also guilt and redemption and, dare I say it, grace. As such it stands as a fitting tribute to Wilberforce and comes highly recommended (at least by me).
Catch a Fire – 4/5
The latest film from director Phillip Noyce (Rabbit Proof Fence) tackles apartheid era South Africa. It tells the real life story of Patrick Chamusso – a good man (but no saint), wrongly arrested and tortured for an act of terrorism at the plant where he worked. His experiences set him on the path where he became an ANC fighter/terrorist in reality. As such the film touches on the age old issues of where the boundary between terrorist and freedom fighter lie and what action is justified by extraordinary circumstances, but offers no easy answers. There is a cost to the choices Patrick makes and no easy morality. The current context in which this film is released only heightens the relevance of these questions.
Derek Luke (Antwone Fisher) is a revelation as Patrick – a stunning, complex performance confirming that he is a young actor to keep an eye on. He conveys the complexity of a man struggling to do the right thing, torn between his family and his desire not to let them get away with what they did to him again. Opposite him we have police colonel Nic Vos (an amalgamation of several real life figures) played by Tim Robbins in what is possibly his finest performance since The Shawshank Redemption. This is no cardboard cut-out baddie figure and Robbins lends him some dignity – here is another family man, convinced he is doing the right thing to protect his country and his family. He has some kind of dignity and honour – he refuses to use a confession to convict a man he knows to be innocent. However, his brutal methods, including the torture of Patrick’s wife and at a later point forcing a child to watch the beating of his uncle in order to get information from him, prove self-defeating as he sets the unpoliticised Patrick on the road towards the ANC.
These two towering performances drive forward this intelligent and thought-provoking drama, whilst other characters are mere sketches. The torture scenes are thankfully not too graphic, but powerful enough to convey a sense of what was going on. Patrick’s radicalisation is dealt with swiftly, but believably. The frustration with the film, if there is one, is that clips of the real Chamusso over the closing credits make it clear that what we have here is only half the story, only half of Patrick’s journey. In real life he now runs a home for over 80 orphans and has embraced Mandela’s philosophy that, in order to be genuinely free, black South Africans need to forgive. Patrick’s years in prison and inner journey from convicted terrorist to that point of forgiveness would surely have made a film at least as interesting as the one we have hear.
Vos also remains a frustrating enigma at the end – one final glimpse of him, seemingly a broken man, without his family – leaves us with questions. How did he deal with the collapse of apartheid? Did he realise his role in making an activist out of Patrick? What happened to him in the end? Part of you would like some redemptive moment for him, which is a tribute to Robbins’ performance. However, as there was no one Vos in real life, maybe an answer to these questions would have struck a false note.
Overall, there may have been an ever better film in the material, but what we have is a good, intelligent thriller which recognises the complexity of these difficult issues. It might lack the raw emotional punch of Last King of Scotland or Blood Diamond, but is probably the more realistic and better for it. (And finally, a Western film about Africa with a black hero!)
300 - 3/5
It is undoubtedly true that the story of how 300 Spartan warriors held back the vastly superior numbers of the Persian empire at Thermopylae would make a great historical epic. 300 is not that film. For starters what we’re dealing with here belongs more in the realm of fantasy than history. Secondly, this is a deeply flawed film – the script is almost as clunky as the (at times) intrusive soundtrack. Gerard Butler (The Phantom of the Opera) shouts and spits his way through every line he has as Leonidas, King of Sparta. And the eventual demise of these heroic Spartans is a curiously unmoving affair on an emotional level.
Furthermore this is a film that wears its borrowings on its sleeves, most notably The Lord of the Rings, Gladiator and a final scene straight out of Braveheart. This film’s main, if not only, plus point is its visual spectacle. But boy, is it a strong plus point. The film looks great. As with Sin City, the movie has tried to capture the look of Frank Miller’s graphic novel. The bronzes and reds of the Spartans dominate the otherwise muted colour-scheme. The battle scenes are gory, yes, but possibly the most spectacular and well choreographed since Aragon drove back the hordes of Mordor (although the director does tend to overuse the slow motion moment). As such the fantastical nature of many of the Persian hordes adds to the drama rather than detracting from it.
If you’re offended by violence, steer well clear. Otherwise this film is shallow and hollow, but visually stunning and entertaining enough to keep your attention for its running time.
Saturday, 24 March 2007
Film Thoughts - Violence + a review of Becoming Jane
On Screen Violence
I should say at the outset that I am not somebody who favours a more rigorous censorship of what is shown on our screens either at home or in the cinema. I think that violence on screen can serve a purpose, whether that purpose be moral, dramatic, character-driven, narrative, artistic or even aesthetic. Furthermore I think that there is enough information out there that people should be able to avoid things that are likely to offend.
What prompts me to write this are thoughts and conversations with colleagues I have had about the film Outlaw (now, depressingly entering its third week on our cinema screens). I must admit that I have not seen the film, nor have any desire to do so, so I write in ignorance, but that’s never stopped me before. I have, however, seen director Nick Love’s previous 2 films – The Business (dire) and The Football Factory (execrable) – and what concerns me about these films (and Outlaw looks as bad, if not worse, from the trailers) is that the violence in them seems to serve no purpose whatsoever. Rather plot, character, everything seems there to serve the purpose of more violence on the screen. I was going to say the films are about violence, but even that would imply more purpose than there actually is to them. No, they are a gratuitous glorification of the worst kind of violent thuggery.
What really depresses me is how many of the young people I work with, many of whom have their own behavioural issues, have cited these movies among their favourites. Cause for concern, surely? Yes, strictly speaking they are not old enough to watch these films, but we all know young people will watch 18 certificate films if they can - I did when I was that age.
As I said, I’m not looking for a new censorship, but a greater sense of responsibility by filmmakers might be welcome.
FILM REVIEW – Becoming Jane – 3.5/5
This film is a fictionalised account of the supposedly real romance between a young Jane Austen and a poor trainee lawyer. So, period piece, costumes, Jane Austen, romance – how chick flick can you get? Which means I probably shouldn’t admit to enjoying it, but I did.
For the second time this year (following Miss Potter) a famous British writer is portrayed on screen by an American actress – are there no young British actresses out there of sufficient commercial clout? Having said that Anne Hathaway gives a credible, spirited and lively performance in the role (with the added advantage that her English accent is considerably less irritating than Renee Zellweger’s was as Beatrix Potter).
James McAvoy (who is contractually obliged to appear in 10% of all films screened this year) provides the romantic interest as young lawyer Tom Lefroy with his usual sparkle and charm. And they work very well as a couple – there is a real chemistry to their exchanges. A touch of class and of comedy is provided by the older generation – Julie Walters, Dame Maggie Smith, Ian Richardson.
As it is well known that Austen herself, unlike her heroines, never married it should come as no surprise how the film turns out and if the scene where Tom lets Jane go after his uncle (Richardson) refuses consent to the pair feels a bit flat, the emotional punch is being saved for another parting later on. Initially the film seems determined to draw parallels between its characters and those of Austen’s novels, especially her most famous, Pride and Prejudice. However, as her life deviates from the course her heroines would follow, so the other characters gain a bit more life of their own – her mother (Walters) is granted far more of a positive, redemptive role than Mrs Bennett ever had and even Jane’s rejected other suitor emerges in a far more positive light than might be seen at first.
If this film has a weakness its that the scriptwriters are just not quite as witty as Austen herself and therefore struggle to write her at times and some of her exchanges with Lefroy are a bit rushed and garbled. The film has no great surprises, you know what you’re going to get, but it does it all very well and with a certain charm. Most girls will doubtless like it and more than a few guys might be surprised how much they enjoy it (but you don’t have to admit it).
I should say at the outset that I am not somebody who favours a more rigorous censorship of what is shown on our screens either at home or in the cinema. I think that violence on screen can serve a purpose, whether that purpose be moral, dramatic, character-driven, narrative, artistic or even aesthetic. Furthermore I think that there is enough information out there that people should be able to avoid things that are likely to offend.
What prompts me to write this are thoughts and conversations with colleagues I have had about the film Outlaw (now, depressingly entering its third week on our cinema screens). I must admit that I have not seen the film, nor have any desire to do so, so I write in ignorance, but that’s never stopped me before. I have, however, seen director Nick Love’s previous 2 films – The Business (dire) and The Football Factory (execrable) – and what concerns me about these films (and Outlaw looks as bad, if not worse, from the trailers) is that the violence in them seems to serve no purpose whatsoever. Rather plot, character, everything seems there to serve the purpose of more violence on the screen. I was going to say the films are about violence, but even that would imply more purpose than there actually is to them. No, they are a gratuitous glorification of the worst kind of violent thuggery.
What really depresses me is how many of the young people I work with, many of whom have their own behavioural issues, have cited these movies among their favourites. Cause for concern, surely? Yes, strictly speaking they are not old enough to watch these films, but we all know young people will watch 18 certificate films if they can - I did when I was that age.
As I said, I’m not looking for a new censorship, but a greater sense of responsibility by filmmakers might be welcome.
FILM REVIEW – Becoming Jane – 3.5/5
This film is a fictionalised account of the supposedly real romance between a young Jane Austen and a poor trainee lawyer. So, period piece, costumes, Jane Austen, romance – how chick flick can you get? Which means I probably shouldn’t admit to enjoying it, but I did.
For the second time this year (following Miss Potter) a famous British writer is portrayed on screen by an American actress – are there no young British actresses out there of sufficient commercial clout? Having said that Anne Hathaway gives a credible, spirited and lively performance in the role (with the added advantage that her English accent is considerably less irritating than Renee Zellweger’s was as Beatrix Potter).
James McAvoy (who is contractually obliged to appear in 10% of all films screened this year) provides the romantic interest as young lawyer Tom Lefroy with his usual sparkle and charm. And they work very well as a couple – there is a real chemistry to their exchanges. A touch of class and of comedy is provided by the older generation – Julie Walters, Dame Maggie Smith, Ian Richardson.
As it is well known that Austen herself, unlike her heroines, never married it should come as no surprise how the film turns out and if the scene where Tom lets Jane go after his uncle (Richardson) refuses consent to the pair feels a bit flat, the emotional punch is being saved for another parting later on. Initially the film seems determined to draw parallels between its characters and those of Austen’s novels, especially her most famous, Pride and Prejudice. However, as her life deviates from the course her heroines would follow, so the other characters gain a bit more life of their own – her mother (Walters) is granted far more of a positive, redemptive role than Mrs Bennett ever had and even Jane’s rejected other suitor emerges in a far more positive light than might be seen at first.
If this film has a weakness its that the scriptwriters are just not quite as witty as Austen herself and therefore struggle to write her at times and some of her exchanges with Lefroy are a bit rushed and garbled. The film has no great surprises, you know what you’re going to get, but it does it all very well and with a certain charm. Most girls will doubtless like it and more than a few guys might be surprised how much they enjoy it (but you don’t have to admit it).
The Greatest Jihad
“The Greatest Jihad is the battle against evil in ourselves”.
I came across the above quote (or something very similar – can’t remember the exact words), which I’m guessing is a translation of something from the Koran whilst watching the American drams series Sleeper Cell on DVD. Whilst it might lack the big names, big budgets, frenetic pace and excitement of 24, it interested me for a number of reasons. The main was its portrayal of the battle against Islamic extremism and terrorism as, fundamentally, a battle within Islam. The undercover FBI agent who is the hero of the series is a devout Muslim who sees his actions every bit as much serving Allah and his faith as the extremist terrorists see theirs. Yes, the series is sometimes rather heavy-handed in delivering its message – a scene where the hero is invited to speak at a primary school springs to mind (“My daddy says Muslims don’t eat bacon and hate us”) – but this central idea sets it apart from other shows which tackle the same subject and might be crucial to our thinking on the subject.
Islamic fundamentalism won’t be defeated by Jack Bauer in 24 hours and it won’t be stopped by Western military involvement in the Middle East. Quite the contrary, our actions in Iraq and Afghanistan, whether you think them justified or not, have only played into the hands of those seeking to recruit for extremist causes. Personally I think the war in Iraq was wrong, although I don’t think it was part of a religious crusade or even that it was primarily about oil. Although, I do think that there are those in the American administration who have sought to turn the situation to their own advantage and that on both sides of the Atlantic, information was misrepresented in order to create a justification for a war that had already been decided upon. I do believe that both Bush and Blair genuinely saw Saddam as a threat that needed to be tackled, but history will be judge their wisdom in this, and I suspect judge them quite harshly. But I digress, the point is that, whether justified or not, the recent actions of the West seem to only be strengthening the very extremist forces they seek to oppose. I’m coming to believe that the only solution to Islamic extremism will be an Islamic one.
Attitudes in the UK towards Muslims at the moment seem to polarise towards the two extremes of those who attack mosques, blame all Muslims for terrorist attacks and wish to drive them from the country and those who carry political correctness to a ridiculous extreme and to avoid offending Muslims would rename Christmas as Winterval and change the Three Little Pigs to the Three Little Puppies. Of course these are the extremes and many people are somewhere in the middle, but both extremes have this in common – they are not listening to Muslims themselves about what they think and what they want.
I wish I could say that as Christians we displayed a better attitude and there are some Christians and churches who are a wonderful example of reaching out to Muslims in love. However, there are also those who seem to display an ignorance and a resentment towards Islam. Several times over the past six months or so I have heard stories of Christians responding to situations with comments along the lines of “You wouldn’t say that to me if I was a Muslim” and then being offended when this landed them in trouble. Somehow this was being held up as an example to follow. Leaving aside the part of this that appears to come from a perverse desire in certain aspects of the Christian church in this country to see themselves as a persecuted minority (get over it, brothers, and be thankful for the freedoms we have in this country), these comments seem to display an attitude which lacks respect and love for those they speak to, displays resentment and disrespect for the Muslim community. Most of all it is not the kind of thing that I could ever imagine Jesus saying. Yes, there are times when the Muslim community seems rather better at getting their voice heard about issues they find offensive, but I say that’s a good thing – a sign of a society which is prepared to listen to the voices of minorities. Maybe if we lost the chip from our shoulders, we’d be rather better at getting our own voice heard. Instead, maybe more of us should follow the example of those believers who are reaching out to Muslim community in love, engaging them in dialogue and trying to understand. This dialogue need not be based on a relativistic nonsensical idea that we’re all worshipping the same God (most Muslims certainly wouldn’t go for that) but on the basis that we disagree on some fundamentals, we can still respect each others beliefs, find several issues on which we share common ground and can stand together. And I speak to myself here as well, there are areas of Islam I feel very ignorant of, but I would like to understand more, not so I can argue against it (in my experience, such arguments are almost entirely fruitless) but so I can understand where people are coming from better.
Returning briefly to Sleeper Cell, one of the other things that struck me was the international make-up of the terrorist cell. Notably including a Bosnian Muslim who was radicalised by his experiences in the Bosnian war when, whilst the West stood by, extremist Islamic groups fought for them. It is now widely acknowledged that the West did too little too late in Bosnia, it is a scary thought that history might judge that as one of the biggest missed opportunities to form a positive bridge to the Muslim world.
I came across the above quote (or something very similar – can’t remember the exact words), which I’m guessing is a translation of something from the Koran whilst watching the American drams series Sleeper Cell on DVD. Whilst it might lack the big names, big budgets, frenetic pace and excitement of 24, it interested me for a number of reasons. The main was its portrayal of the battle against Islamic extremism and terrorism as, fundamentally, a battle within Islam. The undercover FBI agent who is the hero of the series is a devout Muslim who sees his actions every bit as much serving Allah and his faith as the extremist terrorists see theirs. Yes, the series is sometimes rather heavy-handed in delivering its message – a scene where the hero is invited to speak at a primary school springs to mind (“My daddy says Muslims don’t eat bacon and hate us”) – but this central idea sets it apart from other shows which tackle the same subject and might be crucial to our thinking on the subject.
Islamic fundamentalism won’t be defeated by Jack Bauer in 24 hours and it won’t be stopped by Western military involvement in the Middle East. Quite the contrary, our actions in Iraq and Afghanistan, whether you think them justified or not, have only played into the hands of those seeking to recruit for extremist causes. Personally I think the war in Iraq was wrong, although I don’t think it was part of a religious crusade or even that it was primarily about oil. Although, I do think that there are those in the American administration who have sought to turn the situation to their own advantage and that on both sides of the Atlantic, information was misrepresented in order to create a justification for a war that had already been decided upon. I do believe that both Bush and Blair genuinely saw Saddam as a threat that needed to be tackled, but history will be judge their wisdom in this, and I suspect judge them quite harshly. But I digress, the point is that, whether justified or not, the recent actions of the West seem to only be strengthening the very extremist forces they seek to oppose. I’m coming to believe that the only solution to Islamic extremism will be an Islamic one.
Attitudes in the UK towards Muslims at the moment seem to polarise towards the two extremes of those who attack mosques, blame all Muslims for terrorist attacks and wish to drive them from the country and those who carry political correctness to a ridiculous extreme and to avoid offending Muslims would rename Christmas as Winterval and change the Three Little Pigs to the Three Little Puppies. Of course these are the extremes and many people are somewhere in the middle, but both extremes have this in common – they are not listening to Muslims themselves about what they think and what they want.
I wish I could say that as Christians we displayed a better attitude and there are some Christians and churches who are a wonderful example of reaching out to Muslims in love. However, there are also those who seem to display an ignorance and a resentment towards Islam. Several times over the past six months or so I have heard stories of Christians responding to situations with comments along the lines of “You wouldn’t say that to me if I was a Muslim” and then being offended when this landed them in trouble. Somehow this was being held up as an example to follow. Leaving aside the part of this that appears to come from a perverse desire in certain aspects of the Christian church in this country to see themselves as a persecuted minority (get over it, brothers, and be thankful for the freedoms we have in this country), these comments seem to display an attitude which lacks respect and love for those they speak to, displays resentment and disrespect for the Muslim community. Most of all it is not the kind of thing that I could ever imagine Jesus saying. Yes, there are times when the Muslim community seems rather better at getting their voice heard about issues they find offensive, but I say that’s a good thing – a sign of a society which is prepared to listen to the voices of minorities. Maybe if we lost the chip from our shoulders, we’d be rather better at getting our own voice heard. Instead, maybe more of us should follow the example of those believers who are reaching out to Muslim community in love, engaging them in dialogue and trying to understand. This dialogue need not be based on a relativistic nonsensical idea that we’re all worshipping the same God (most Muslims certainly wouldn’t go for that) but on the basis that we disagree on some fundamentals, we can still respect each others beliefs, find several issues on which we share common ground and can stand together. And I speak to myself here as well, there are areas of Islam I feel very ignorant of, but I would like to understand more, not so I can argue against it (in my experience, such arguments are almost entirely fruitless) but so I can understand where people are coming from better.
Returning briefly to Sleeper Cell, one of the other things that struck me was the international make-up of the terrorist cell. Notably including a Bosnian Muslim who was radicalised by his experiences in the Bosnian war when, whilst the West stood by, extremist Islamic groups fought for them. It is now widely acknowledged that the West did too little too late in Bosnia, it is a scary thought that history might judge that as one of the biggest missed opportunities to form a positive bridge to the Muslim world.
Monday, 19 March 2007
Film Reviews - Premonition and Factory Girl
Premonition - 2/5
The first thing to say about this film is that I was pleasantly surprised by it - I thought it would be absolutely dreadful and it was only moderately dreadful. The recent trend of time anomaly films seem to be subject to a law of diminishing returns from the excellent (Donnie Darko) to the entertaining (Butterfly effect) to the merely passable (The Jacket) and now to this. The plot, such as it is, revolves around Sandra Bullock (doing her distraught woman on the edge of a breakdown act (and lets face it, nobody does it better)) waking up to find her husband either dead or alive again.
The plotting is especially sloppy, leaving huge unexplained holes (see below). Bullock does her best with the material, but there must be better material out there for her somewhere. The rest of the cast and characters are completely forgettable. Even Peter Stormare, who is better known for his scenery chewing over the top performances, seems completely uninterested in proceedings.
The overall impression is of a film that thinks its being really clever, while actually its being pretty dumb. Any tension there may have been in the is she going crazy/is this real stakes is quickly wiped out as the audience will easily work out whats going on, although even then it doesn't make much sense. By the time a priest turns up to give some sort of pseudo-spiritual nonsensical explanation of things, you'll have stopped caring.
Having said that, if you're willing to overlook the ridiculousness of it all and are stuck for something to see (and lets face it - there ain't that much in the cinemas at the moment - Outlaw or Norbit anybody?), it trundles along in a mildly entertaining, inoffensive manner.
Plot Holes - Warning Here be Spoilers
The plot revolves around Sandra Bullock's character living through the days of one week only in the wrong order. So first comes Thursday when she learns hwer husband died in a car crash the day before, then Monday, when he's still alive, then Saturday when the funeral is and her older daughter has unexplained cuts on her face. We later learn that she got this by running through a glass door on Tuesday only she didn't have them at the start of the film on Thursday. Oops! Come on guys, if you're going make this type of movie you need to be a lot more careful than that.
Factory Girl - 3.5/5
In which Sienna Miller stars in the real life story of Edie Sedgewick, the original 'It' girl, a superstar who seemed more famous for being famous and who she was with than anything she did (although some would argue her whole life was a performance). So far, so typecast. That said, Sienna Miller gives a very convincing and moving performance conveying the fragility behind the glamour of a life that was cut far too short by drugs.
Around her are some equally good performances. Guy Pearce is simply stunning in a deeply ambivalent portrayal of Andy Warhol - at time outrageously amusing, at others hurtfully detached and almost malicious in his attitude towards Edie, with Pearce subtly hinting at the pain behind the detachment. Jimmy Fallon gives a rare serious performance as another of Edie's friends who reveals a real nasty side whilst directing Edie in a film in one of the most shocking and moving scenes of the film.
The weak link is Hayden Christensen. Having shown that he could do something that resembled acting in Shattered Glass, here he reverts to a passable impression of a plank of wood as Dylan-esque rocker Bobby Quinn, a potentially redemptive force in Edie's life who ultimately does nothing for her. The palpable tension and discomfort in the scene in which Edie tries to bring together Quinn and Warhol (two entirely contradictory figures, to both of who she is drawn) provides another standout moment in the film.
Her eventual descent into addiction and breakdown is thankfully not dwelt on in too much gruesome detail, but still leaves a sense of the tragedy of this celebrity.
I've got to admit that Edie Sedgwick is not someone I knew a great deal or anything about going into the movie and I'm also not sure I really get Warhol, so am maybe not best placed to comment on the authenticity of the movie. However, I would say it's worth checking out - somewhat like its heroine, it's flawed, but compelling and moving.
The first thing to say about this film is that I was pleasantly surprised by it - I thought it would be absolutely dreadful and it was only moderately dreadful. The recent trend of time anomaly films seem to be subject to a law of diminishing returns from the excellent (Donnie Darko) to the entertaining (Butterfly effect) to the merely passable (The Jacket) and now to this. The plot, such as it is, revolves around Sandra Bullock (doing her distraught woman on the edge of a breakdown act (and lets face it, nobody does it better)) waking up to find her husband either dead or alive again.
The plotting is especially sloppy, leaving huge unexplained holes (see below). Bullock does her best with the material, but there must be better material out there for her somewhere. The rest of the cast and characters are completely forgettable. Even Peter Stormare, who is better known for his scenery chewing over the top performances, seems completely uninterested in proceedings.
The overall impression is of a film that thinks its being really clever, while actually its being pretty dumb. Any tension there may have been in the is she going crazy/is this real stakes is quickly wiped out as the audience will easily work out whats going on, although even then it doesn't make much sense. By the time a priest turns up to give some sort of pseudo-spiritual nonsensical explanation of things, you'll have stopped caring.
Having said that, if you're willing to overlook the ridiculousness of it all and are stuck for something to see (and lets face it - there ain't that much in the cinemas at the moment - Outlaw or Norbit anybody?), it trundles along in a mildly entertaining, inoffensive manner.
Plot Holes - Warning Here be Spoilers
The plot revolves around Sandra Bullock's character living through the days of one week only in the wrong order. So first comes Thursday when she learns hwer husband died in a car crash the day before, then Monday, when he's still alive, then Saturday when the funeral is and her older daughter has unexplained cuts on her face. We later learn that she got this by running through a glass door on Tuesday only she didn't have them at the start of the film on Thursday. Oops! Come on guys, if you're going make this type of movie you need to be a lot more careful than that.
Factory Girl - 3.5/5
In which Sienna Miller stars in the real life story of Edie Sedgewick, the original 'It' girl, a superstar who seemed more famous for being famous and who she was with than anything she did (although some would argue her whole life was a performance). So far, so typecast. That said, Sienna Miller gives a very convincing and moving performance conveying the fragility behind the glamour of a life that was cut far too short by drugs.
Around her are some equally good performances. Guy Pearce is simply stunning in a deeply ambivalent portrayal of Andy Warhol - at time outrageously amusing, at others hurtfully detached and almost malicious in his attitude towards Edie, with Pearce subtly hinting at the pain behind the detachment. Jimmy Fallon gives a rare serious performance as another of Edie's friends who reveals a real nasty side whilst directing Edie in a film in one of the most shocking and moving scenes of the film.
The weak link is Hayden Christensen. Having shown that he could do something that resembled acting in Shattered Glass, here he reverts to a passable impression of a plank of wood as Dylan-esque rocker Bobby Quinn, a potentially redemptive force in Edie's life who ultimately does nothing for her. The palpable tension and discomfort in the scene in which Edie tries to bring together Quinn and Warhol (two entirely contradictory figures, to both of who she is drawn) provides another standout moment in the film.
Her eventual descent into addiction and breakdown is thankfully not dwelt on in too much gruesome detail, but still leaves a sense of the tragedy of this celebrity.
I've got to admit that Edie Sedgwick is not someone I knew a great deal or anything about going into the movie and I'm also not sure I really get Warhol, so am maybe not best placed to comment on the authenticity of the movie. However, I would say it's worth checking out - somewhat like its heroine, it's flawed, but compelling and moving.
Saturday, 17 March 2007
A children's story - well sort of.
Ok - bit stranger this one, but its a something I've been writing recently which I thought I'd share.
The Monkey’s Shame
If you were to go deep into the heart of the deepest jungle, deeper than any other person had ever been before, you might possibly stumble upon a simply fantastic place. A place that was full of joy and happiness and fun and laughter and excitement and games, but most of all it was a place of high jinks. For this place would be the Kingdom of the Monkeys, and as everybody knows monkeys are lively, happy, outgoing creatures and they love fun and laughter and excitement and games. But most of all monkeys are cheeky creatures and they love high jinks. In this place, deep in the deepest heart of the deepest jungle, the monkeys and play all day long, as they swing from branch to branch, delighting in their life together and all the high jinks they got into. However, this story isn’t about monkeys like that.
This is Mortimer’s story and Mortimer was a very different sort of monkey. Mortimer wasn’t very lively and he wasn’t very cheeky and he wasn’t at all outgoing. Mortimer was quite quiet and very sensitive and more than a little bit shy and he liked to think more than he like to talk. He liked to play games sometimes, but he wasn’t very good at them and often felt embarrassed about this. But most of all he wasn’t really comfortable with high jinks. As Mortimer grew older he realised more and more just how different he felt from all the other monkeys.
“I’m just not very lively,” he thought to himself “and monkeys should be lively. And I’m not at all cheeky, and monkeys should be cheeky! And I’m just not outgoing, and all monkeys should be outgoing. And I don’t always enjoy playing games and monkeys should enjoy playing games! And I don’t like high jinks and monkeys should like nothing more than high jinks!” As he thought about these things, he realised something else: “And I’m not very happy and monkeys should always be happy!” The more he thought this, the less happy he became. And the less happy he became the more he thought like this.
Eventually, as he became less and less happy, another thought came to Mortimer: “I’m really not like the other monkeys in so many ways. I am different. In fact,” he thought, “I’m not really a proper monkey at all.” The next thought followed very quickly on from this: “There must be something wrong with me!” And as he thought this final, painful thought a black cloud settled over his thoughts and in his heart. And the name of this cloud was Shame. And Mortimer felt the presence of the cloud and he felt ashamed. He felt ashamed that he wasn’t like the other monkeys, that he wasn’t a proper monkey. In fact, he felt deeply ashamed of himself and everything that he was. And the more he felt ashamed, the more he knew that the other monkeys would never like him if they saw what he was like. And the more he knew this, the more he felt he had to hide. So Mortimer learnt how to hide.
At times he would hide by trying to be the liveliest and most fun monkey there had ever been – he would laugh louder than all the others, and try to make the more jokes than any other monkey. But always after a little while of this, he would start to feel very silly, that he wasn’t really being himself, that he was making a complete fool of himself and that the other monkeys would like him even less than they did already. In other words, he began to feel even more ashamed of himself and the cloud over his thoughts and his heart grew even blacker.
At other times Mortimer would hide by trying to be the most helpful monkey in the whole kingdom. He would forever being fetching things and taking things for others and most of all he would be doing all sorts of things and all sorts of other things to serve the King of All the Monkeys. Mortimer thought that if the other monkeys saw how helpful he was then they might start to like him. And if that sounds a little strange to you, then maybe you need to realise that Mortimer, despite feeling so different from all the other monkeys, wanted absolutely nothing more than for some monkey or other to notice him and like him for who he was. However, in all his helping and all his serving, Mortimer never forgot his one golden rule: “I must never, ever let anybody see who I really am, because if they see who I really am they will not like me”.
Unfortunately for Mortimer all his helping and serving didn’t make the other monkeys like him more. In fact, they didn’t seem to notice at all – they took everything he did for granted. (In actual fact, this was not quite the truth – for one Monkey did notice. One Monkey saw everything and was deeply moved by what he saw in Mortimer, but Mortimer didn’t know this.) So the more Mortimer helped, the more he felt taken for granted. And the more he felt taken for granted, the more he felt something else growing in his chest – a burning fire underneath the black cloud. And the name of this fire was anger. And the more angry he felt the more ashamed he felt because good monkeys just did not get angry. And the more ashamed he felt, the more he wanted to hide.
So most often, Mortimer would hide by going deep into the jungle, to places where the other monkeys never went. (All the other monkeys except one, that is). So Mortimer would go off and hide with only the cloud and the fire for company. And there, in the deepest part of the deepest jungle he found something else within himself. Or rather he found nothing else within himself, for the something he found was a huge, yawning emptiness. And the name of the emptiness was loneliness. And when he became aware of this yawning emptiness, he would lay down, curl himself up into a ball and cry to himself.
At times, as Mortimer was walking deep in the deepest part of the deepest jungle he would notice things of amazing beauty – a stunning butterfly or the particular way the sunlight shone through the branches. At other times as he wandered Mortimer would get lost – not lost in the jungle, but lost in his own thoughts. And as he got lost in his own thoughts, he would occasionally stumble across a really interesting and unusual idea. And when he came across something of amazing beauty or a really interesting idea, the first thing that Mortimer would do was turn around looking for somebody to share it with. But of course, there was nobody to share it with and even if there was, they probably wouldn’t care, or so he thought. And as he thought this, the yawning emptiness, which he had been successfully managing to avoid until that point, would open up inside him and he thought that it was going to swallow him whole. And he would fall to the ground, curl up into the littlest ball he could, and cry to himself.
And as he cried, he would think to himself: “What’s wrong with me? Why am I so different from all the other monkeys? Will anybody ever notice me and love me?”
But it wasn’t quite true that nobody noticed Mortimer and it wasn’t quite true that nobody loved Mortimer. One monkey noticed Mortimer. One monkey saw all that Mortimer. One monkey was filled with nothing but love for Mortimer. You see, in the kingdom of the monkeys there was one monkey who saw all that happened and that monkey was the King of all the Monkeys. And the looked and saw Mortimer and saw the good in him – the kindness and gentleness of his heart, the ideas buzzing round his mind like a storm of bees, his longings and his pain. The King saw all this and his heart was filled with love and compassion for Mortimer.
Sometimes, when Mortimer was in the deepest jungle crying to himself, the King would come and take Mortimer in his arms and just hold him. And there, crying against the chest of the King, the black cloud and the burning fire and the yawning emptiness would recede for a while and Mortimer felt loved for a while.
However when the King had left, a voice started whispering in Mortimer’s head. And the name of the voice was Untruth. The voice told him: “The King doesn’t really love you, he just does that because he has to – he’s the King after all. I mean how could the King love you, pathetic and weak like you are! You’re not a proper monkey!” And even though all these things were false, the voice was very convincing and Mortimer believed it utterly. And as he believed it the dark cloud, the burning fire and the yawning emptiness came back stronger than ever.
Now, I would love to tell you this story had a happy ending, but it doesn’t. In fact, it doesn’t have an ending at all yet because I cannot write what hasn’t happened yet. So, if you were to go deep into the heart of the deepest jungle, deeper than any other person had ever been before, and if you were to find the kingdom of the monkeys, take time to enjoy the fun and the games and the high jinks. But don’t stop there, go deeper – deeper into the deepest heart of the deepest and you may find a rather lonely and miserable monkey hiding there. And if you should find this monkey, and if you should take the time to get to know him and listen to him, you may just find that he has some pretty interesting things to say.
The Monkey’s Shame
If you were to go deep into the heart of the deepest jungle, deeper than any other person had ever been before, you might possibly stumble upon a simply fantastic place. A place that was full of joy and happiness and fun and laughter and excitement and games, but most of all it was a place of high jinks. For this place would be the Kingdom of the Monkeys, and as everybody knows monkeys are lively, happy, outgoing creatures and they love fun and laughter and excitement and games. But most of all monkeys are cheeky creatures and they love high jinks. In this place, deep in the deepest heart of the deepest jungle, the monkeys and play all day long, as they swing from branch to branch, delighting in their life together and all the high jinks they got into. However, this story isn’t about monkeys like that.
This is Mortimer’s story and Mortimer was a very different sort of monkey. Mortimer wasn’t very lively and he wasn’t very cheeky and he wasn’t at all outgoing. Mortimer was quite quiet and very sensitive and more than a little bit shy and he liked to think more than he like to talk. He liked to play games sometimes, but he wasn’t very good at them and often felt embarrassed about this. But most of all he wasn’t really comfortable with high jinks. As Mortimer grew older he realised more and more just how different he felt from all the other monkeys.
“I’m just not very lively,” he thought to himself “and monkeys should be lively. And I’m not at all cheeky, and monkeys should be cheeky! And I’m just not outgoing, and all monkeys should be outgoing. And I don’t always enjoy playing games and monkeys should enjoy playing games! And I don’t like high jinks and monkeys should like nothing more than high jinks!” As he thought about these things, he realised something else: “And I’m not very happy and monkeys should always be happy!” The more he thought this, the less happy he became. And the less happy he became the more he thought like this.
Eventually, as he became less and less happy, another thought came to Mortimer: “I’m really not like the other monkeys in so many ways. I am different. In fact,” he thought, “I’m not really a proper monkey at all.” The next thought followed very quickly on from this: “There must be something wrong with me!” And as he thought this final, painful thought a black cloud settled over his thoughts and in his heart. And the name of this cloud was Shame. And Mortimer felt the presence of the cloud and he felt ashamed. He felt ashamed that he wasn’t like the other monkeys, that he wasn’t a proper monkey. In fact, he felt deeply ashamed of himself and everything that he was. And the more he felt ashamed, the more he knew that the other monkeys would never like him if they saw what he was like. And the more he knew this, the more he felt he had to hide. So Mortimer learnt how to hide.
At times he would hide by trying to be the liveliest and most fun monkey there had ever been – he would laugh louder than all the others, and try to make the more jokes than any other monkey. But always after a little while of this, he would start to feel very silly, that he wasn’t really being himself, that he was making a complete fool of himself and that the other monkeys would like him even less than they did already. In other words, he began to feel even more ashamed of himself and the cloud over his thoughts and his heart grew even blacker.
At other times Mortimer would hide by trying to be the most helpful monkey in the whole kingdom. He would forever being fetching things and taking things for others and most of all he would be doing all sorts of things and all sorts of other things to serve the King of All the Monkeys. Mortimer thought that if the other monkeys saw how helpful he was then they might start to like him. And if that sounds a little strange to you, then maybe you need to realise that Mortimer, despite feeling so different from all the other monkeys, wanted absolutely nothing more than for some monkey or other to notice him and like him for who he was. However, in all his helping and all his serving, Mortimer never forgot his one golden rule: “I must never, ever let anybody see who I really am, because if they see who I really am they will not like me”.
Unfortunately for Mortimer all his helping and serving didn’t make the other monkeys like him more. In fact, they didn’t seem to notice at all – they took everything he did for granted. (In actual fact, this was not quite the truth – for one Monkey did notice. One Monkey saw everything and was deeply moved by what he saw in Mortimer, but Mortimer didn’t know this.) So the more Mortimer helped, the more he felt taken for granted. And the more he felt taken for granted, the more he felt something else growing in his chest – a burning fire underneath the black cloud. And the name of this fire was anger. And the more angry he felt the more ashamed he felt because good monkeys just did not get angry. And the more ashamed he felt, the more he wanted to hide.
So most often, Mortimer would hide by going deep into the jungle, to places where the other monkeys never went. (All the other monkeys except one, that is). So Mortimer would go off and hide with only the cloud and the fire for company. And there, in the deepest part of the deepest jungle he found something else within himself. Or rather he found nothing else within himself, for the something he found was a huge, yawning emptiness. And the name of the emptiness was loneliness. And when he became aware of this yawning emptiness, he would lay down, curl himself up into a ball and cry to himself.
At times, as Mortimer was walking deep in the deepest part of the deepest jungle he would notice things of amazing beauty – a stunning butterfly or the particular way the sunlight shone through the branches. At other times as he wandered Mortimer would get lost – not lost in the jungle, but lost in his own thoughts. And as he got lost in his own thoughts, he would occasionally stumble across a really interesting and unusual idea. And when he came across something of amazing beauty or a really interesting idea, the first thing that Mortimer would do was turn around looking for somebody to share it with. But of course, there was nobody to share it with and even if there was, they probably wouldn’t care, or so he thought. And as he thought this, the yawning emptiness, which he had been successfully managing to avoid until that point, would open up inside him and he thought that it was going to swallow him whole. And he would fall to the ground, curl up into the littlest ball he could, and cry to himself.
And as he cried, he would think to himself: “What’s wrong with me? Why am I so different from all the other monkeys? Will anybody ever notice me and love me?”
But it wasn’t quite true that nobody noticed Mortimer and it wasn’t quite true that nobody loved Mortimer. One monkey noticed Mortimer. One monkey saw all that Mortimer. One monkey was filled with nothing but love for Mortimer. You see, in the kingdom of the monkeys there was one monkey who saw all that happened and that monkey was the King of all the Monkeys. And the looked and saw Mortimer and saw the good in him – the kindness and gentleness of his heart, the ideas buzzing round his mind like a storm of bees, his longings and his pain. The King saw all this and his heart was filled with love and compassion for Mortimer.
Sometimes, when Mortimer was in the deepest jungle crying to himself, the King would come and take Mortimer in his arms and just hold him. And there, crying against the chest of the King, the black cloud and the burning fire and the yawning emptiness would recede for a while and Mortimer felt loved for a while.
However when the King had left, a voice started whispering in Mortimer’s head. And the name of the voice was Untruth. The voice told him: “The King doesn’t really love you, he just does that because he has to – he’s the King after all. I mean how could the King love you, pathetic and weak like you are! You’re not a proper monkey!” And even though all these things were false, the voice was very convincing and Mortimer believed it utterly. And as he believed it the dark cloud, the burning fire and the yawning emptiness came back stronger than ever.
Now, I would love to tell you this story had a happy ending, but it doesn’t. In fact, it doesn’t have an ending at all yet because I cannot write what hasn’t happened yet. So, if you were to go deep into the heart of the deepest jungle, deeper than any other person had ever been before, and if you were to find the kingdom of the monkeys, take time to enjoy the fun and the games and the high jinks. But don’t stop there, go deeper – deeper into the deepest heart of the deepest and you may find a rather lonely and miserable monkey hiding there. And if you should find this monkey, and if you should take the time to get to know him and listen to him, you may just find that he has some pretty interesting things to say.
Thoughts on the year so far in Movieland
OK, so I thought I’d start this off by looking at the year so far movie-wise now that we’re at the end of the award season. And I think the overall feeling has to be one of vague disappointment. The major contenders have come and gone, but very little actually sparkled. The Pursuit of Happyness, Bobby, Dreamgirls, The Good Shpherd, Letters From Iwo Jima, Apocalypto, Notes on a Scandal – there were all OK movies in their way, but nothing to rave about – a definite sense of could do better. I seem to have been one of the few who actually liked Babel, but would have to admit that it wasn’t up to the standards of Amores Perros or 21 Grams. A similar sense of underachievement pervades less award-friendly, more crowd-pleasing genre efforts like Ghost Rider or Music and Lyrics.
Africa
On the plus side, Africa has come out rather well (or badly, depending on your perspective) with The Last King of Scotland and Blood Diamond proving to be two of the most powerful and gripping films of the year to date. The former driven by such a wonderfully accurate performance from Forrest Whittaker (fully deserving of all the plaudits and awards that followed) that it quite distracts from a plot which is slightly hokey. It is probably marginally the better of the two, with Blood Diamond losing marks for turning a bit too Rambo-esque in the final act. However, I have one quibble – both films, as with every Hollywood film of Africa I can think of from The African Queen to Cry Freedom, felt the need to have a white hero to the story. When will Hollywood have the courage to make an African film with an African hero?
Oscars
This year’s Oscars for me had to rank amongst the most disappointing and just plain wrong for many years. Yes, on the merit of his career Martin Scorcese fully deserves an Oscar, but is The Departed really the best example of direction this year? Surely the work of Greengrass (United 93), del Toro (Pan’s Labyrinth) or Cuaron (the shamefully un-nominated Children of Men) were better examples of the art of direction. And best film? Yes The Departed was an entertaining movie, but it was somehow less than the sum of its parts and considerably inferior to its excellent Hong Kong original (Infernal Affairs). Is this the best Hollywood can offer an inferior copy of a far eastern film in a genre where it used to reign supreme? It managed to add length to the running time, whilst simultaneously losing character depth. Matt Damon’s character in particular suffered from a change in motivation which made his actions in the final act completely inexplicable and ridiculous (when I went to see it, the audience ended up laughing, and not in a good way, at the end).
And don’t even get me started on all those nominations for The Queen. Yes, Helen Mirren’s performance was a superb dramatic creation, but it was surrounded by and mismatched to a series of cheap and flabby caricatures at the expense of soft targets. Does the fact that this aspect of the film is so little remarked upon indicate that this is the way we actually see these public figures now? If they had been fictional characters, the criticism would have been of a shallow lack of realism – maybe we should be more critical of the images portrayed in the media. As such it felt like the film failed to really get to grips with the events of those weeks when the whole country seemed overcome with something – grief? Guilt? Insanity? – at the death of a woman they had been quite happy to see exploited and ridiculed in the press just weeks before.
But back at the Oscars, the acting awards at least were more deserved – Forrest Whittaker was richly deserving of his statuette, whilst it was great to see the ever-reliable Alan Arkin getting some recognition for the excellent Little Miss Sunshine. However, the all-conquering Whittaker-Mirren juggernaut did disguise the fact that this year, for once there was some real quality in the Best Actress field (more so than for the male counterparts) and the hype surrounding Dame Helen’s royal turn meant Judi Dench’s and Penelope Cruz’s equally impressive performances were largely overlooked. Ms. Cruz, of course, always being likely to miss out as academy voters seem incapable of judging the quality of an acting performance whilst reading subtitles. Which brings us to the criminality of Volver not even get a nom for Best Foreign Film and, having been nominated, Pan’s Labyrinth not winning. Meanwhile, back with the acting, Jennifer Hudson’s award was the end of a fairy-tale story, but was surely on the basis of her singing than her acting, which whilst good for a first outing, was not the equal of any of her fellow nominees.
Silver Linings
Well, good to get that off my chest. But amidst this sense of vague disappointment, let’s be thankful for the few rays of sunshine – the unrestrained fun and joy of Hot Fuzz and charmingly weird yet strangely moving The Science of Sleep – which have brightened the cinema screens so far this year. Here’s looking to the Summer of Three to raise my spirits – Bourne 3, Spidey 3, Pirates 3, Shrek 3 – surely at least one will not disappoint.
Africa
On the plus side, Africa has come out rather well (or badly, depending on your perspective) with The Last King of Scotland and Blood Diamond proving to be two of the most powerful and gripping films of the year to date. The former driven by such a wonderfully accurate performance from Forrest Whittaker (fully deserving of all the plaudits and awards that followed) that it quite distracts from a plot which is slightly hokey. It is probably marginally the better of the two, with Blood Diamond losing marks for turning a bit too Rambo-esque in the final act. However, I have one quibble – both films, as with every Hollywood film of Africa I can think of from The African Queen to Cry Freedom, felt the need to have a white hero to the story. When will Hollywood have the courage to make an African film with an African hero?
Oscars
This year’s Oscars for me had to rank amongst the most disappointing and just plain wrong for many years. Yes, on the merit of his career Martin Scorcese fully deserves an Oscar, but is The Departed really the best example of direction this year? Surely the work of Greengrass (United 93), del Toro (Pan’s Labyrinth) or Cuaron (the shamefully un-nominated Children of Men) were better examples of the art of direction. And best film? Yes The Departed was an entertaining movie, but it was somehow less than the sum of its parts and considerably inferior to its excellent Hong Kong original (Infernal Affairs). Is this the best Hollywood can offer an inferior copy of a far eastern film in a genre where it used to reign supreme? It managed to add length to the running time, whilst simultaneously losing character depth. Matt Damon’s character in particular suffered from a change in motivation which made his actions in the final act completely inexplicable and ridiculous (when I went to see it, the audience ended up laughing, and not in a good way, at the end).
And don’t even get me started on all those nominations for The Queen. Yes, Helen Mirren’s performance was a superb dramatic creation, but it was surrounded by and mismatched to a series of cheap and flabby caricatures at the expense of soft targets. Does the fact that this aspect of the film is so little remarked upon indicate that this is the way we actually see these public figures now? If they had been fictional characters, the criticism would have been of a shallow lack of realism – maybe we should be more critical of the images portrayed in the media. As such it felt like the film failed to really get to grips with the events of those weeks when the whole country seemed overcome with something – grief? Guilt? Insanity? – at the death of a woman they had been quite happy to see exploited and ridiculed in the press just weeks before.
But back at the Oscars, the acting awards at least were more deserved – Forrest Whittaker was richly deserving of his statuette, whilst it was great to see the ever-reliable Alan Arkin getting some recognition for the excellent Little Miss Sunshine. However, the all-conquering Whittaker-Mirren juggernaut did disguise the fact that this year, for once there was some real quality in the Best Actress field (more so than for the male counterparts) and the hype surrounding Dame Helen’s royal turn meant Judi Dench’s and Penelope Cruz’s equally impressive performances were largely overlooked. Ms. Cruz, of course, always being likely to miss out as academy voters seem incapable of judging the quality of an acting performance whilst reading subtitles. Which brings us to the criminality of Volver not even get a nom for Best Foreign Film and, having been nominated, Pan’s Labyrinth not winning. Meanwhile, back with the acting, Jennifer Hudson’s award was the end of a fairy-tale story, but was surely on the basis of her singing than her acting, which whilst good for a first outing, was not the equal of any of her fellow nominees.
Silver Linings
Well, good to get that off my chest. But amidst this sense of vague disappointment, let’s be thankful for the few rays of sunshine – the unrestrained fun and joy of Hot Fuzz and charmingly weird yet strangely moving The Science of Sleep – which have brightened the cinema screens so far this year. Here’s looking to the Summer of Three to raise my spirits – Bourne 3, Spidey 3, Pirates 3, Shrek 3 – surely at least one will not disappoint.
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