Spy Kids (tv)

Christmas TV was, on balance, dreadful. From the earth shattering unfunny French and Saunders to the disappointingly tired Two Ronnies Christmas Sketchbook, a poor showcase for the genius of Ronnie Barker displayed in the occasional Porridge repeat.

In fact the only half decent Christmas shows were Dr Who and a Morecambe & Wise I hadn't seen before, curiously appearing on Channel 5. Movies didn't fare much better with the notable exception of Spy Kids 1 & 2.

I'd been looking forward to the first since downloading the trailer years ago but never got round to acting my age and true calling by going to see it. In fact I was even put off when the film version of Thunderbirds was described as 'another Spy Kids'. Overly generous praise for Thunderbirds as it turns out and vastly underrating these Robert Rodriguez efforts.

These are gadget-gorged futuristic-fairytale mini-masterpieces with oh so silly and enjoyable storylines and superb performances from the cast (including the crucial, not at all cringe-inducing, lilliputian leads) and cameos. It's Antonio Banderas, who's recently gone up in my estimations with Shrek 2, who steals the show particularly in the first outing.

The most colourful and whimsical children's film for adults since Toys.

Most Special 2005

I realise it's been ages since I wrote here. I guess my Barry Norman streak deserted me. And why not? I've no blogging resolutions but I thought I'd kick off 2006 with some favourites from 2005.

Albums
Two clear favourites here: Hard-fi's Stars of CCTV and Coldplay's X&Y. Both are terrific albums and it's definitely Coldplay's best one so far but the award has to go to Hard-fi. Interesting, raw & very London Stars of CCTV is my driving album in a similar way that Kylie, Jagged Little Pill and (What's the story?) Morning Glory marked specific times in my life.


Films
Have to admit that I haven't been as much as some others I could mention. The two biggest films I saw were probably Harry Potter & the Goblet of Fire and Sin City. As for the boy wizard it was a good, but not completely satisfying outing. Touches of teenage and public school angst were excellent but the crucial graveyard scene at the end was fluffed. Sin City was stylish and beautiful to the point of it hurting but just not enough substance to clinch the award... which goes to Lost in Translation. It doesn't matter that it wasn't released in 2005 - it's when I discovered it and will be a poignant yet sympathetic and beautiful reminder of Christmas 2004 in Japan.


Concert / Theatre / Opera / Dance
Had the good fortune to see a few things this year but more on the opera and dance side. There's only one true candidate though and that's still very clear in the mind despite all alcoholic efforts last night. The Royal Ballet's performance of The Nutcracker was the magical, wintery fairytale it should be and taking not one but two dates to it was a perfect tribute to the season of sharing, giving and receiving.


Event
This category could be a music gig or some other 'show'. Indeed two of the nominations are as 'showy' as you can get. The Lido in Paris, as you may have read on these pages, was an over-the-top camp camp camp champagne-fuelled experience. The visit to the Shezhen cultural & folk centre (okay, pushing slightly back into December 2004) culminated in a remarkable 45 minute performance of costume, pyrotechnics, music, lighting and a cast of over 50. However special each of those were, and with special people, the award has to go to a small one-woman gig in the upstairs bar of a pub in Clapham. Wendy Ip's last night of her Just Wendy tour summed up everything great about live music and why I need to see more in 2006.

eXistenZ (dvd)

I'm glad to have taken a quick peek at the trailer before I played the main feature itself: I quickly realised this was not a film to be watched during lunch and postponed my viewing.

With a safe 2 hour buffer after food I sat down to watch one of those twisted virtual reality movies that seems to have been all the rage in the dwindling 90s. If you appreciated The Thirteenth Floor, as I did, then you'll enjoy this is it reality encroaching on the game or the other way around? question.

If, on the other hand, the twists and turns of multiple realities has you reaching for Sky Sports and you're the slight bit queezy (don't order the special) then avoid.

It feels every bit the low budget cult-friendly flick of Cube with a Jude Law that looks and acts as though he's only just out of short trousers and Dr Who doing a double take-inducing American accent. Worth catching but only if you already like the genre.

The Terminal (dvd)

It's been a while since I wrote here. A lull in DVD tarting, a peak in workload and a temporary freeze of my creative juices.

The Terminal is one of those from my last batch of DVD rentals: didn't quite get me passionate either way so it's stayed a blog subject with no more than a few lines of thoughts. That's not to say it's not a good film; it is.

Impressively shot (with a purpose built airport set) and confidently acted (Tom Hanks doing a foreign Tom Hanks) it's a slow burn. Yet every flicker oozes quality and the feeling that Spielberg has crafted each shot very deliberately and purposefully.

A special mention must go to the dinner scene: not only the way dates should be but also a welcome bit of comic relief.

People-watching in airports the last couple of days reminded me to resurrect this entry. I especially like the 'everyone's waiting for something' tagline. Poignant, relevant, appropriate.

xXx (dvd)

Boy, does this suck.

Oops... sorry, I've forgotten the convention: start with a witticism or subtle metaphor that ultimately reflects the overall opinion of the piece. Let's try again...

Boy, does this suck.

Oh well, I'd better explain myself. When this first came out if was trumpeted as James Bond for the 21st Century which got my hackles up a little: 007 turned into homage and parody years ago rather than trying to reflect reality. That said, I was looking forward to seeing this on DVD. Unfortunately among a multitude of faults 'Triple X' takes itself rather more seriously than Bond while still having a pop at be-tuxedo-ed secret agents getting shot in an anarchistic club, M and Q US-style characters, secret underground bases and rather familiar title sequences.

This could all be forgiven if it was actually any good. The stunts are all explosion without spark, acting without performance and dialogue without script. Vin Diesel was okay in Pitch Black but then again he didn't say very much. Even the subtitled Czech character lines were cringeworthy: 'Catch him quick, kill him slow'.

This is possibly the worst so-called action movie I've ever seen. Not so much xxx, more zzz.

Saw (dvd)

I've yet to read a review that gets more than 3 sentences in without reference to SE7EN. Not surprising really as here's another sociopathic serial killer with a method to their madness and a plan for their philosophy.

Whereas SE7EN took the deadly sin theme, Saw attempts to play on the victim's vices or failings and compose traps and tests that will either teach them a lesson and cure them or torture them and kill them.

One of the taglines is 'Dare you see Saw?' and if you're at all squeamish about blood then this is not a film for you. But in putting all of its effort into devising gruesome endings and scenarios it misses its potential in psychological torture and dilemma - something I would find a whole level more squeamish.

Some great performances including an underused Danny Glover but the subplots, including his, don't quite hang together. This genre of film tends to all hinge and depend on the grand reveal: although you're kept guessing trying to work out the pieces of the jigsaw the impact of the reveal is somewhat lacking. Personally I believe it thinks its cleverer than it actually is, quickly drawing together disparate strands that don't really weave but certainly leaving the door open (or is that closed?) for the sequel later this year. More shock than awe.

Peter Kay: Live at the Bolton Albert Halls (dvd)

A fan of Phoenix Nights and his mock-umentary series I'd never been impressed with Peter Kay's stand-up. To be fair though I'd only really seen his Blackpool show from 2000 and while alot of his themes were similar here they were perhaps just much better executed in this, his 2003 show.

Most of his material consists of taking some (frequently-northern) oddity or aspect of human nature and mocking it, asking 'what's all that about?' That's never seemed the highest level of wit and too many of his laughs come from this observational book of comedy when his other writing obviously displays much greater talent. Still, this time the laughs do come and though they may not last for long (the amusement dissipates as soon as its told) some of them are extremely astute, incredibly funny and worryingly familiar. Favourites included:

1. your Dad numbering the video tapes and wondering how he's run out of the number '3' stickers
2. your Mum calling you every other family member's name before your own
3. Sunday evenings consisting of Bullseye, bath and taping the top 40 while trying to edit out inane DJ patter with the pause button
4. explaining to parents that you need to press a button to hang up the line on their new flashy cordless phones
5. the joys of the weekly Asda 'big shop'

It's charming and impressive that he's managed to build up a fair collection of material that's often alluded to; fans will pick up on the 'gaarlic bread?' and a fair few Phoenix Nights references. The best stand-up I've seen him do but not as good as his best writing.

Sin City (cinema)

I knew slightly more about Sin City than the friend who accompanied me but even I was a bit concerned when the 'trailers appropriate to this feature presentation' all turned out to be for horror or psychological flicks like Deep Water and Red Eye. I provided reassurance, with fingers crossed, that it was just because they were likely to be at the higher end of the '18' spectrum and nothing at all to do with the style of the main event.

I was right: an extremely bloody set of episodes set against a sumptuous black and white background with the occasional and glorious colour detailing for focus and effect. No supernatural horrors here.

The fact that the scenes are comic book in style (though we're not talking The Beano here) help the audience cope with extremely shocking and violent episodes as well as paying due homage to its comic book origins. That said, not all the audience was as understanding and several people walked out after 10 minutes or so as I've heard is regularly the case.

The characters are gritty, flawed and seemingly immortal at times and performances from the male leads, Bruce Willis, Mickey Rourke and Clive Owen were excellent. The female leads, valkyries and the more sugary ones didn't quite have the same impact despite being allowed to shoot guns and wield samauri swords with sadistic glee. Jessica Alba, who seems to be on more of the Sin City posters than is deserved, looks great but sounds weak in a cast of gravelled and aggressive voices.

I can't finish without mentioning an absolutely spectacular piece of comic relief which was in danger of keeping me laughing through the poignant and emotional finale. A beautiful yet terrible film to look at.

This is how it goes (theatre)

A decent American?

So this is how it goes... or at least that's how our narrator remembers it. This Donmar Warehouse-staged, Neil LaBute-written play seeks to question, challenge and, at times, embarrass the audience's perception of race and political correctness.

It was apparently inspired by a letter received by the writer following his film Nurse Betty where, shock of shock and horror of horrors, an interracial kiss takes place. At least one so-signed 'decent American' expressed his disgust that the liberal showbiz left wing insisted on pedalling the perverse acceptance of such relationships. This letter adorns the first page of the programme and inspires an uncomfortable scenario of unintentioned(?) racist comments, childhood rivalries and domestic violence.

The audience is denied the safety blanket of a clear hero and villain. Ben Chaplin, our narrator and lead, jokingly and charmingly sets up each scene lulling us into a false sense of moral security. The scene will then mercilessly exploit this: a line will provoke a laugh before the audience corrects itself with shock and often ashamed silence. From the after show discussion it was interesting to hear how this varies considerably by demographic. Matinee performances apparently laugh harder and longer at these points...

There's no easy way to love this play. It's well performed, well staged and provoked a couple of hours of debate on racism and infidelity over drinks in the bar downstairs afterwards: maybe that's more appropriate and relevant acclaim.

Layer Cake (dvd)

Parcel deliveries have improved in London in recent years

We Brits seem to be adept at churning out rom-coms with bumbling aristocratic wannabes and gangster romps with bunging East End thugs. As you probably know Layer Cake falls into the latter category with a drugs deal going wrong, various links in the chain yadda yadda yadda.

This would be a poor example of the genre if it weren't for Daniel Craig's punchy and pacy narrative and a superb and innovative (Christmas present buyers, note) sountrack that includes a favourite composer of mine: Craig Armstrong of Plunkett & Macleane and Moulin Rouge fame.

The idea of this 'layer cake' of different parties and levels of seniority and complexity would be a fantastic premise for the film if only it were executed well. As it is it's a rather a pedestrian exploration rather than the grand reveal the premise deserves.

It's not a bad film but doesn't do well on the 'so what?' test particularly after the slightly contrived and very deliberate two fingers to Hollywood climax.

Lido (show)

A visit to the Lido on the Champs-Elyses was an essential and incredibly memorable few hours of my recent visit to Paris. Recommended over the Moulin Rouge (must investigate to be sure) I still had little idea of what to expect: feathers, dancing and beautiful scantily-clad pert women, yes... but that could have been any Saturday night.

This was so much more though: a truly extravagant revue of music, acrobatics, ice-skating, horse-riding, dancing and general strutting around the stage with huge smiles and very little else on. I was even distracted from drinking my inclusive champagne and gazing at my companion. Yes, from drinking my champagne.

Sensory overload as a plane flies in (honestly!) from the wings (no pun intended) with a stage full to bursting of shocking colour, sequins and skin. Just when I thought it couldn't get any camper, it does: this is what the world would look like if Cher and Liza Minelli were allowed to breed. Speaking of whom, the evening brought the revelation of my knowing most of the words to songs from Cabaret. I blame two people: a friend and a family member, the latter of whom would be in camp musical heaven at this show.

Hard to know what to pick out for special mention: perhaps the Andrex puppy-man dangling from a drape á la BBC idents / Swamp Circus, the compact ice rink and compact skaters that rise from the floor, maybe the nice chaps in top hats and errr chaps maybe... the list goes on and on.

It is so camp it's like being slapped in the face with a wet tight white T-shirt on Canal Street if you can imagine such a thing. Before it started I wondered why there was nothing like it in London; by the end I knew exactly why. It could only happen in glorious, gay Paris without irony or apology.

Collateral (dvd)

Cruise prepares for his next encounter with Channel 4

Taxi driver meets girl, girl gives tax driver her number, taxi driver picks up guy who looks suspiciously like movie star Tom Cruise but who turns out to be hitman, taxi driver forced to drive around from hit to hit, taxi driver escapes, realises hitman's final hit will be his previous fare, taxi driver saves girl, Will Smith probably none too happy...

How many times have we heard that story? About as many times as the diminutive Scientologist has played a baddie (not including that mask bit in M:I2). But put a bit of grey into his temple and a Ruger revolver into his hand and he pulls it off surprisingly and eerily well.

To be honest that's just as well as there's not alot else here. Tom Cruise playing against type is just enough to detract from a hollow script and a disappointingly superficial performance from Jamie Foxx. Even the action set pieces lack tension and pace with the superb exception of one bullet and soundtrack frenzy in a nightclub.

I see from recent adverts that at least one high street retailer has reduced the DVD to an impressive £6.99. Probably not worth it.

A Thousand Yards (theatre)

Stare and scare

The intimate (and formerly local) setting of Southwark Playhouse presents a fascinating scenario of a newspaper picture editor whose sight is dulled, damaged and dying with the uncensored attrocities wired in from around the globe from brave but horror-numbed photo journalists. Her only hope seems to be the unorthodox therapy from a sight psychiatrist, one of his more deluded and eccentric patients and a former love and photographer... whom she part blames.

It's a fascinating exploration of censorship, personal and professional responsibility and our at times tasteless appetite for instant news of destruction and suffering. It's wordy: the dialogue is never humdrum, it's kinetic and pacy, almost percussive, whether a therapy session, blazing row or artistic appraisal. I even managed to resist hitting the gas lift on the psychiatrist's chair not two feet away from me.

The aftershow discussion kept three quarters of the packed-in audience in their seats. Impressive writing from a real life photo editor had brought the Great War phenomena of the 'thousand yard stare' right up to date with ethical introspection. Interesting that just last week the BBC introduced new guidelines on a similar debate.

Gerard Kearns (of Channel 4 Shameless fame) deserves special mention as that deluded but passionate patient 'Kid A' with a truly magnificent multi-minute monologue on what he sees in the art on the gallery walls. I managed to chat to him afterwards and it was obvious how inspired that sequence was by his own sense of awe having never been to "a National Gallery before. There aren't such things in Oldham".

Dr Who: New Series (tv)

Just a companion?

Once upon a time Saturday night TV was a barren desert with the occasional tumbleweed. Then 14 weeks ago the Beeb regenerated Dr Who bringing a northern oasis and the blossoming Rose to our screens. Last week the series ended and tonight my evening will be significantly emptier.

I don't remember ever really being a fan of the older series although having seen a few of the 'Confidential' programmes I may have to go back and watch a few of the episodes with 'Peri' in them. I do however remember an LP with the theme tune and incidental music which would send shivers up my spine; the TV series was always a bit kooky, slightly naff.

This 'new' series has been scifi drama at it's best: strong, deep & likeable characters all with their fair share of demons and failings coupled with, on the whole, imaginative writing and horror elements that have an impact and shock value on a 28 year old let alone the 8 year olds invevitably watching as part of a 7pm audience.

It's sufficiently harked back to some of the traditional kookiness and built upon Dr Who canon effortlessly with thoughtful and thought-provoking use of old adversaries providing extra levels of narrative depth. Thrilled to see Steven "Press Gang, Coupling, Joking Apart" Moffat on the writing staff and glad to see BBC Wales haven't minded coming to London once or twice. On the other hand I'm genuinely sad to see Christopher Ecclestone's superb Doctor leaving his new and improved sonic screwdriver behind albeit in a fitting, touching and, dare I say, human way.

It's times like these when you remember how good the BBC can be... it seems that Michael Grade and seven million other people agree. Back to Saturday nights with Celebrities on the Toilet and Strictly Come Joyriding.

Rose: if you are an alien how come you sound like you're from the North?
The Doctor: lots of planets have a North...