persiflage

We’ve just had Star Wars day (4^th May), and sci-fi is certainly in the atmosphere at the moment, with several out-of-this world releases rocketing onscreen (Star Trek, Iron Man 3, etc.). Time to time-warp and take a glance at five of the genres’ best:

Star Wars (1977)

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…Not exactly a controversial choice, but this is where it all began. It’s nice to wallow in the origins with all the hype about Star Wars Episode VII. Spirited farm boi Luke Skywalker (Mark Hamill) joins the big dogs to save his sister Carrie Fisher (little did he know…) from Darth ‘Dark Daddy’ Vader. It’s got some great characters (Chewbacca, here’s looking at you) and some top dialogue from banter hunter Han Solo (Harrison Ford). It’s a bit of a comfort blanket and a must see for any self proclaimed sci-film fanatic.

Blade Runner (1982)

Harrison Ford is back once again in Ridley Scott’s futuristic dystopian, with a grown up exploration of the human condition. Clearly an inspiration for numerous other sci-fi narratives, synthetic humans known as Replicants are posing a threat to their human creators. Deckard (Ford) is a former Blade Runner, a special policeman tasked with bringing illegal Replicants under control.  Of course, when androids are involved, emotions get complex; I’m not one for spoilers, but this is one big heart/mind fuck. The aesthetics are beautifully realised, and the 2007 Final Cut of the film is definitely one to get hold of.

Star Trek (2009)

No, it hasn’t yet stood the test of time, and yes, it is a modern reboot, but by God, J.J. Abrams made a stonker. The sequel is just around the corner, and this viewer is rather hyped. Star Trek posed a prequel for the original Star Trek series, with Kirk and Spock (Chris Pine and Zachary Quinto respectively) growing up in an alternate reality is order to give writers free reign. It’s immensely self-aware, in a good way, with many nods to Trekkies, with a typically complex plotline. There’s some great moments in which Spock meets his older self (holla, Leonard Nimoy), and where Simon Pegg appears as Scotty. Some may view Star Trek as sacrilege. I say Live Long and Prosper.

Alien (1979)

Lack of diversity aside (Ridley Scott’s here again), Alien is one of the scariest sci fi movies ever made. It’s cos in space, no one can hear you scream. The cast is great, and the tension is agonising, realism colliding with horror to put you off space travel for eternity.  John Hurt. That Alien. That scene. All I need to say. Numerous sequels have had varying rates of success, and have spawned a franchise that has cemented Alien in cinematic history.

E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial (1982)

Spielberg’s iconic piece has more than earned its place as a cult classic, and its top place in my best of the rest.  You know the deal: a friendly alien befriends an alienated boy and a beautiful story ensues.  It encapsulates the fantasy, wishful ethos of most sci fi, providing escapism for lonely kids. Apparently E.T was based on Spielberg’s imaginary friend, created as a comfort after his parents’ divorce, and the film has consequently provided a similar role to many. It beat Star Wars to the highest-grossing film, before Jurassic Park knocked it off the top spot. It also features Drew Barrymore also stars in her premier role as Elliott’s (Henry Thomas) annoying little sister. Fortunately, E.T’s rep was saved from a disturbing sounding sequel: E.T Nocturnal Fears.

After an achingly long wait, the unmistakeable churning of strings signify the return of Mad Men. Matthew Weiner left us with many unanswered questions: did Don manage to keep that new leaf upturned? How will Joan fare as a partner in Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce (Harris Campbell)? Will Pete Campbell ever grow up? In this double episode, ‘The Doorway’, these questions are left hanging. Like last season, we are pondering dark themes of existence. Atypical of Madison Ave, these potent undercurrents are coated in a veneer of plastic positivism. Don is brooding life and death in tropical Hawaiian surroundings, accompanied by his wife Megan, who seems to be breaking into the acting industry with varying success rates. The seventies are just around the corner (it’s 1967), as we see from constant references to bohemian hippies, a penchant for facial hair, and the uneasy presence of the Vietnam War. Change is very definitely here, and the episode dwells on the way the characters cope. SCDP is changing too, illustrated by a humorous palaver with publicity shots, but not enough. Joan is, as ever, victim to some casual sexism (“Do you mind holding onto the rail, gorgeous, and thinking of important things?”). After her stellar plotline last season, Joan’s part is disappointing in this episode – she’s barely there.

Back to the characters we do see. It makes sense to start with Don, because how Mad Men rolls.  Don is in a morbid mood. The episode opens with a flashback of surgery – we can later infer that the victim is Don and Megan’s porter. However, it’s from Don’s viewpoint. Make of that what you will. Turns out he’s friendly with Arnold Rosen, a renowned heart surgeon who lives in his building. Hearts are indeed on the line in ‘The Doorway’. I don’t want to give too much away, but saying that Don is dabbling in extramarital affairs once again isn’t exactly a shocker. His philosophising also impacts his job; his ad for the Royal Hawaii hotel reminds everyone of suicide, an uninhabited tie eerily resembling a noose. Connections between the series are obvious (R.I.P. Lane), even nodding back to season 1 with Don and Megan’s holiday snap slideshow.

Betty is also feeling nostalgic. Enter Sandy, one of the irascible Sally’s new friends, who dreams of living a bohemian, creative lifestyle in NYC. Betty, of course, sees herself in Sandy – the former model and actress is now ensconced in an ultra comfy, conventional set up, where her key concerns are diets (‘reducing’) and hair care. Yearning for the days of yore, she winds up in a ramshackle squat in Greenwich and is confronted with past versions of herself who lampoon her current bourgeoisie state. Betty’s looking for something more, and marks a new chapter in her life with an Elizabeth Taylor style hairdo. Her black locks mourn the death of her old self, and hopefully signify a direction for Betty that extends beyond self piteous wallowing.

Roger’s also hit hard by the death of his mother, and it’s nice to see some genuine, albeit belated emotion from SCDP’s silver fox. And of course, there’s Peggy. Her story is rather at odds with Don’s eschatology, and provides the most humour. It’s fair to say she’s emerging as the don of Ted Chaough’s agency, inflicting tough impositions on her awe inspired copywriters; there’s even a whiff of an affair. Much of this episode concentrates on laying down foundations and initiating themes. It’s a promising (though slightly slow) beginning to the series, and with next series confirmed as the last, it’s clear that the end is nigh.

Ring the alarum bells, James McAvoy is back. He’s versatile, he’s gorgeous and he’s Scottish. After an inexcusably long absence (something about a baby), McAvoy’s everywhere. Eran Creevey’s Welcome to the Punch and Danny Boyle’s Trance both grace our screens within close proximity, and due to reasons beyond my control, I will not have seen Jay Mac’s latest starring roles on their days of release. To drown my sorrows, here’s a recap of Mr McAvoy’s finest five performances.

Shakespeare Retold (2005)

McAvoy’s broad Glaswegian brogue is allowed to run wild in one of the BBC’s Shakespeare revamps. McAvoy is, of course, Macbeth, with Keeley Hawes as his Lady. Macbeth is depicted as an ambitious chef (complete with graphic pig butchery), and McAvoy is really very impressive. Tortured emotion and multifariousrelationships are played with conviction, and Macbeth’s fall from grace is realised through McAvoy’s clear physical investment in the role. Dark, dangerous yet bewilderingly sympathetic, it’s no wonder that he’s reprising the role in the West End this spring.

The Chronicles of Narnia (2005)

When James hit Hollywood. In Big Mac’s breakout role, he played the cutesy faun with paedophilic tendencies, curiously suiting his false ears and nose. It may not have been particularly stretching, but this role proved his irrefutable versatility, and scored numerous adorability points which even his part in Wanted couldn’t shake off. He and Georgie Henley perfectly portrayed the relationship between Tumnus and Lucy, and he cemented his place in the hearts of a new generation of Narnian fans.

Starter For Ten (2006)

One of the coming-of-age films that litters McAvoy’s early career, he plays the idealistic, poetry spouting Brian. Adapted from David Nicholl’s titular novel, Brian has his eyes set on becoming a University Challenge star, and his journey to fame throws up many obstacles. A familiar yarn depicting the struggles of beginning university, with conflicts between new friends (Benedict Cumberbatch, Rebecca Hall) and old (Dominic Cooper, James Corden), romance and, of secondary concern, that English degree.  Catherine Tate plays his mum.

Atonement (2007)

Playing Robbie in Joe Wright’s adaptation of Ian McEwen’s novel earned McAvoy a bunch of BAFTA nominations, and rightly so. This impassioned tear jerker charts the loves and losses of three tangled lives in the First World War. It saw McAvoy in a more serious role, and his performance alongside Keira Knightley stands out as one of the romantic greats of the 21^st century (that letter, that library). There’s also the impressively gritty depiction of war, most notably in the five minute Dunkirk tracking scene, in more than a nod to Saving Private Ryan. Visually resplendent, emotionally agonising, the Atonement script was apparently the best McAvoy had ever read.

X-Men: First Class (2011)

Once again donning his roguish English accent, James plays Charles Xavier (Professor X) in Matthew Vaughn’s prequel to X-Men.  They needed someone special to aptly portray a younger reincarnation of the bald, wheelchair-bound demigod Patrick Stewart, and McAvoy sure does deliver. He perfectly conveys the cockiness and vulnerability of a young Oxford professor, his charm providing the perfect fold to Michael Fassbender’s equally impressive Magneto. McAvoy puts his own stamp on Professor X, no mean feat, laying the groundwork for some serious character development; paralysis and hair loss are yet to hit. Top marks.

And the rest…

I could spend hours defending McAvoy’s every move, so it’s a hard task to pick just five examples of his prowess – there are plenty of others that deserve a mention.McAvoy hit the animated world in another Shakespeare revamp, Gnomeo and Juliet (2011), and last year’s Arthur Christmas, which were both good fun. Sadly less well known roles include Valentin in the Tolstoy biopic, The Last Station (2009), and as a lawyer investigating Lincoln’s assassination in The Conspirator (2010) – both worth a watch. He also played the saucy Tom Lefroy, Jane Austen’s first love, in Becoming Jane (2007). Essentially, you name it, McAvoy’s done it. From the brutal The Last King of Scotland  to his stint in Channel 4 series Shameless(2004-5), he’s proved his worth as a chameleonic actor, and any weak performances (Penelope - excruciating) can be attributed to poor screenplay. He’s emerged from a bout of romantic typecasting as impressive lead actor. This viewer will certainly be keeping a close eye on his upcoming ventures.

What’s next?

Trance and Welcome to the Punch are in cinemas now, whilst this year should also see him star in The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby and Filth. He’s also reprising his role in next year’s X-Men: Days of Future Past.

‘Imagine if while you watched TV, it was watching you’. So says the sinister narrative voice of Gogglebox.

The premise behind Gogglebox is that people are being filmed watching TV. As such, this is going to be a little meta – a reaction to a TV show about reactions to TV shows.

 Take a few minutes.

 So, according to narrator Caroline Aherne, we manage to find the time to watch four hours of television a day (pah, amateurs). After the brief induction, and the cursory hash tag (GUYS, it’s interactive), we meet the audience. Filmed from the comfort of their own armchairs, the appropriately diverse selection of armchair critics gives us their opinions on the week’s viewing. Viva democracy! I’ve watched barely any of this stuff, so it’s an excellent recap.

Episode 1 features reactions to Meteor Strike: Fireball. We have hairdressers Chris and Stephen, who have been together for six months. They have a cat, lovingly referred to by Stephen as ‘gingey minge’.  Everyone is terribly critical and somewhat bored of the Russian meteor. After all, as we are told by the disappointed narrator, it didn’t kill anyone. Best mates Stevie and Michael, who like to chillax with a mug of herbal tea, compare the meteor to a cocopop, while a fantastically cynical old couple think it’s boring. To the programmes’ claim that ‘it’s an incredibly exciting time’, Fred (I’ve forgotten his real name, so let’s go with Fred) states sagely: ‘It isn’t’. Then we have the typical nuclear family who just loves to bicker. The matriarch is convinced the meteor’s a hoax: ‘it’s the Americans doing something’ – it always is. The family mourn the lack of Brian Cox to the show, with Conspiracy Mum treating us to a rendition of D:ream’s ‘Things Can Only Get Better’.

They do. We are now introduced to a posh, foul mouthed couple called Dom and Stef (self proclaimed ‘Devil’s Avocado’), and best pals Sandy and Sandy, who’s telly is emblazoned with a  sticker reading ‘No regrets with Jesus’. These guys are great. Dom and Stef live in a 17-bedroom detached, and seem to spend most of their time off their faces. Anyway, Stef’s on the Vodka Redbulls and it’s time for Top Gear. This week, the lads are riding around Africa with sofas strapped to their Volvos. The astute old couple label Jeremy Clarkson as stupid, while Dom and Stef are, unsurprisingly, in raptures; according to Dom, Clarkson would make a ‘great prime minister’.

Sure, Dom. Have another Woo Woo.

 It’s the polarities that are fun here – whilst Dom would just love to go ‘fuck-arsing around Africa in a broken down car’, Fred (in a sly dig from Channel 4) notes that it’s ‘a nice way to see Africa…at the country’s expense…’ They’re saying what we’re thinking (‘we’ being every potential C4 demographic) – it’sa bit like Twitter, but more fun.  One Born Every Minute next, and this I have seen. I bloody hate it. It is grim. Every push, every snipped umbilical cord reduces me to a quivering wreck. And the majority of our “viewers” share my reaction (apart from Sandy and Sandy – HOW ARE THEY EATING PIZZA?). It is, as the narrator informs us, “a chance to share in the joys of labour”. Ahem. We’re sharing a bit too much, I think. I don’t want to see a woman giving birth and I don’t want to hear about the Queen’s shits (Her Majesty’s gastroenteritis) and I don’t want to see someone’s mouldy ball sack (Embarrassing Bodies). BUT it turns out that I do want to see people watching those things. Gogglebox is good fun, and has the potential to be an interesting social barometer. But in essence, it’s still just people watching TV. Turns out we’ll watch anything, these days.

Ok. The fact that Anne Hathaway’s nipples and Jennifer Lawrence’s side-boob have attracted more press attention than their performances and deserved awards RE: Oscars is really not on.

And don’t even mention Seth Macfarlane and his boob song.

So let me know when humanity less resembles the tits it’s so enamoured with…

On 15^th January 2013, it was announced that HMV had gone into administration. A day later, Blockbuster faced the axe. There’s a worrying trend at work here. There are troublingly few places to obtain a physical DVD on the high street. So what busted Blockbusters? The obvious answer: the internet. A trip to hmv.com proves a depressing affair. Once the home of 2 for £10 deals and £3 steals, the customer is greeted with the unfortunate news that ‘No purchases can be made online until further notice’. Online streaming and rental sites dominate the market; quite understandably. Watching or buying films online is convenient, and you can access almost any visual art at the touch of a button. High street chains get this – in 2002, Blockbusters established their rental service online, with a postal service now monopolised by the likes of LoveFilm. But it’s also cheaper – at Blockbuster you’d pay up to £3.50 for a rental that lasted a couple of nights. There was no guarantee that the disk would be unscathed, either – the number of times I have been left furiously rubbing at a carelessly smudged disk in frustration is laughable. So it’s obvious why online streaming is a winner.

As an indolent, impoverished student, I’m all for it. The easier the access to TV and film, the better. However, if one is to rightly avoid the illegalities of streaming, the consumer is confined to rental sites like LoveFilm, Netflix and Amazon. All well and good, but the films available are the ones subject to popular demand – second-rate slashers and popcorn flicks dominate the front pages of rental sites. Films and TV programmes are ‘suggested’ to you, according to the Golden Globe shortlist – sorry - “your own individual tastes”. Autonomy, theoretically enlivened by the internet, is diminishing. Through the internet, viewing habits are becoming lazy.

Something I fear we are losing, thanks to the internet, is the sheer physicality of film. You can buy DVDs online, of course, but why waste your money when you can try before you buy? I realise I am laying myself open to charges of traditionalism and snobbishness, but cinema stems from materiality. From the days when projectionists were common place, and showing a film was a potential fire hazard (seriously – nitrate film can BURN, baby), to holding a DVD in your hands, of flicking through the racks before stumbling upon something that catches your eye. Watching a film comes with a sense of occasion that can be recreated in your home. Even Dominos is cashing in on this appeal. Fancy a movie with your margherita? Dominos is on it. If you are too lazy to get off your arse to get your own DVD, Dominos will bring your film, along with some Chicken Strippers.

Films are becoming a side dish. If you have an hour to fill, a perusal through Netflix or Lovefilm will sort you out – why not squeeze in half of ‘The Shining’ or a couple of episodes of ‘Breaking Bad’? The decay of DVD shops means that films feel less tangible – there’s little cause to go hunting for a film in a shop or a cinema, not when they appear online within days of release. At the root of my concern, I think, is that soon there may be no record of cinematic achievements. If everything is online, what happens when it crashes? We need archives that prove that the human race was responsible for both The Shawshank Redemption and Piranha 3DD.  The demise of DVD retailers may mean the demise of DVDs themselves. What’s next?

In current cinema, we are witnessing a resurgence of literary cinema. Swathes of classic and contemporary literary works are finding themselves revamped on screen; Christmas alone has seen the release of Life of Pi, Great Expectations and The Hobbit. 2013 promises such literary delights as Les Miserables, The Hunger Games: Catching Fire and Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters (…). This is, of course, nothing new. Alfred Hitchcock adapted extensively from books: Psycho, The Birds and Vertigo were all inspired by books of the same name.

An impressive book, however, hardly necessitates an impressive film. RE: Captain Corelli’s Mandolin, The Golden Compass, The Grinch. Even Hitchcock’s adaptation of du Maurier’s corker Jamaica Inn was a lead balloon. That is why screen writers and directors must be careful when adapting. They must be tender, teasing out those elements of a fantastic book that can be transported on screen. Sympathetic characters, inventive plots, vivid description; these are handed on a plate to fortunate filmmakers to work their magic. No wonder, then, that literary adaptations are so popular.

 Changes are unavoidable, due to the obvious differences in medium. The arguments for books over film are hackneyed. The immersive act of reading requires imagination, and this is what makes reading a book unique; the reader creates. Characters on page are realised in the mind of the reader, and a good author and a sensitive reader can invent tangible characters that evoke an emotional reaction. To a certain degree, the reader is responsible for the creation of a character, and their undocumented lives. Readers invest in characters (hence the outcry when Anne Hathaway gifted Em in One Day with a garbled “English” accent).

 In films, this creative process is handed over to the film makers. There are those who are violently against the adaption of books to film, arguing films maul the imaginative process.  Certain formats do not lend themselves to adaptation, largely due to narrative technique. Books that rely largely on interior monologue can be hard to translate on screen, such as Gregg’s 1983 adaptation of Virginia Woolf’s stream of consciousness novel, To the Lighthouse. However, this is not always the case. Ang Lee’s recent adaptation of Yann Martel’s supposedly ‘unfilmable’ Life of Pi provided one of many examples of faithful, intelligent adaptations. Life of Pi is a philosophical novel requiring extensive interpretation on the part of the reader; the film is no different. Upon leaving the screening, my mother confessed to feeling just as clueless as I had done when I first finished the book. Furthermore, technology available in cinema can create the unimaginable. Again, Life of Pi featured stunning visuals, unusually enhanced by 3D, created by additions to the original storyline purely for visual gratification. And it worked.  

But directors must be careful what they touch or expect to suffer outrage from fans. Peeves was lamentably missing from Harry Potter, and there was a sharp intake of breath when Shelob failed to feature in The Two Towers. But Jackson brought her in (and how) in his stunning finale to the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Executive decisions must be made, but with care. Lord of the Rings is a good example; Jackson reanimated Tolkien’s dense trilogy into cinematic masterpieces, far more palatable to a popular audience whilst pleasing fans of the books. Less can be said of The Hobbit. Whilst the first installment was enjoyable (but long), it left audiences wondering how on Middle Earth Jackson would make two more films out of the 300 page book. It looks like Jackson may have stretched The Hobbit beyond its girth, more baggy than Bilbo.

The books versus movies debate will continue impassionedly from both sides for as long as both exist. I find little value in comparing the two; a very good film can be different from a good book. There is no ‘inherently better’ format; both can provide an intellectually and visually rewarding experience. Equally, both can be trash.  Measure books and film by the standards of their modes, independent from each other. Anything else is a categorical error.

Winter is coming, bringing with it the Christmas special of Doctor Who. After a disappointing, unmemorable run of festive episodes, it seems we may finally be back in business. In the kick starter of the new series, the new is blended with the old. New companion, new TARDIS, new theme tune. All, however, with a decidedly vintage feel; both the new TARDIS interior (adorned with modish roundels) and the theme tune draw heavily upon the original 60s series. Feisty but familiar Clara (Jenna-Louise Coleman) hails from the Victorian era, channeling a distinctively Nancy-from-Oliver!-esque vibe. In fact, the whole episode centralises around the idea of a Victorian Christmas, calling into play the Gelth episode of the first rebooted series, in which Christopher Eccleston encounters Dickens himself. Much is reminiscent of the Eccleston era, which is rather nice. Steven Moffat is, thankfully, unafraid of the dark in his 5.15 Christmas day time slot. The Doctor (Matt Smith, complete with obligatory bow tie) is darker too, like Eccleston; he is used to running around on his own again. Not for long – Clara reignites the standard Doctor/companion frisson.  We’ve seen Clara before, of course, as Oswin in Dalek guise. Steven Moffat said the two characters were unrelated – he lied. Coleman’s good, and shows potential. You can guarantee she’ll already have a lusty following.

This episode begins in familiar territory: with a lonely child. The child is, as always, prey to a sinister force. This time, it’s snowmen. The familiar is, once again, warped – just like the flamethrower wielding Santas in Tennant’s debut; the first (and best) Christmas special. Snowmen (A.K.A. The Intelligence) make clever Christmas antagonists, an antithesis to Raymond Brigg’s cuddly Snowman, currently dominating C4. But they’ve long been threatening – see The Flying Picket’s Christmas rendition of ‘Only You’ on TOTP 1983. Snowmen can look scary; these ones look a bit like Jack Skellington. The Intelligence are manifested in a sort of giant snow globe, voiced by the wonderful Ian McKellen, and prey on the fears of the vulnerable.

Doctor Who has always preyed on the present, evoking both pop culture and current affairs. This episode was no different; in classic Whovian style, Moffat struck at the heart of a current debate. On the day the Archbishop of Westminster condemns gay marriage, Moffat brings back his married crime fighting duo: Vastra and Jenny. In a poignant scene, Vastra introduces herself to a flabbergasted Victorian housemaid: ‘Good evening, I am a lizard woman from the dawn of time, and this is my wife’. It’s hard to tell what the maid finds more alarming: lizard women or lesbian weddings. That’s obviously the point. Moffat is explicitly targeting the ‘Victorian values’ present in contemporary Britain, and warns of the danger: we could easily live in an ‘entire world of ice people’. People like Simeon (Richard E. Grant), a homophobe whose attitudes are, clearly, Victorian.

This episode also wonderfully intermingles fictional realms. Game of Thrones tagline duly noted (in this case hissed by a Dickensian Richard E. Grant), Moffat further worked his magic by casting the Doctor as his other solitary, hyper-intelligent protagonist – Sherlock Holmes. Lizard lady Vastra is cited as the ‘Veiled Detective’, her and Jenny providing Conan Doyle’s source for Sherlock and Watson. Moffat’s clearly having fun, and so are we. Tumblr will be going crazy.

Doctor Who is back with a bang, rejuvenated by a return to its retrograde roots. Moffat knows what he’s doing. However, it begs the question as to how long it can go on for. This Christmas special has given me hope, and the COMING SOON trailer looks promising. But in its seventh series, the format is a little over familiar. Whilst, at this time of year, familiarity is just what we crave, it seems that the major appeal comes from all-star casts and cameos, a reliance on pop culture, rather than originality. Doctor Who is feeling tired. Or perhaps I’m just committing the cardinal Whovian sin – and growing up.