As the general election looms ever closer, like some giant blimp set to implode, like a crap carnival ride in which you feel sick and underwhelmed, like a cheap fondle in the back seat of the bus, I feel it necessary to examine the many facets of a general election campaign.
Aah! Let me interject at once! For what probably excites me most about an imminent election is the opportunity to have a party! We did in 2005 and we did the US version in 2008, and it gives me the chance to create a stupifyingly boring quiz in which i get to feel cleverer than everyone else. There'll also be a sweepstake on what the majority will be (if there will indeed be one! Ooooh...); there'll be different coloured punch to represent the various political parties - vote with your mouth! The punch to be finished first is the official winner. We'll then petition parliament to accept this as the true result. And as the results start to feed through and we start to weep more and more at the thought of that turd faced opportunist holding the reigns of Ol' Blighty, we can have a mighty fun time filling out our emigration forms! Ooh, where would you like to go?
So let this first post be an introduction to the delights of a political campaign in Britain. Of course, there are already boundary changes! Yes, it is that exciting. In our fair city of Sheffield, Hillsborough shall be no more! It will be morphing into Brightside, and the latest reports say that Burngreave will simply be extinguished enitirely. Evacuations will be occuring the week prior to election day. In Sheffield Central, where I shall be voting, Paul Scriven, the council leader, has a decent pop at toppling Labour. Although the Labour majority from 2005 is around 7,000, popular and professional politician Tricky Dicky Caborn is standing down, leaving in his place Paul Blomfield, whose fake smile is so weak his face looks like water. Alongside this, with boundary changes including the loss of Burngreave (Labour stronghold, to be firebombed at a later date) and the gaining of Broomhill (a Lib Dem lovefest), you'd be a fool to rule out the Scrivster, as they're calling him down at the skatepark. Sheffield Council's loss could well be Parliament's gain.
Of course, possibly the most exciting addition to this general election is the TV debates! Whoop whoop! Yes, Britain takes a cue from those hollering yanks in true showbiz style! Nick Clegg! David Cameron! Gordon Brown! BBC! ITV! Sky! Who's to say will win this battle of tedium but to be sure, I'll be tuning for the whole shebang. Look out for my blow-by-blow account of the affair.
Ok, I'm signing off for the time being, but for all your election news, remember to bookmark me!
Meanwhile, to the left are some sites for your perusal. Don't know who your MP is? Don't feel stupid, just follow the link!
Tuesday 16 March 2010
Monday 28 December 2009
Funny Games
I saw Funny Games (1997) when it was released at the cinema and always maintain its impact was heightened because I knew nothing about the film. Also, I was just passing a couple of hours while I waited for a friend who was at a gig. It's the only film I've seen at the cinema where I've really considered walking out. It was horrific and part of this was the surprise element. Of course, Haneke revels in surprise moments. Think of the moment in Hidden (2005) when Majid stabs himself or in The Piano Teacher (2001) when Erika does the same, or Time Of The Wolf (2003) when the father is shot. His ability to jolt you is compounded by the distance he creates between subject and viewer. This distanciation process is achieved by focussing on the actions of the characters, as removed from subjective intention or the arousal of sympathy. The camera acts as a documenting device, often framing certain actions around the hands, excluding the face. The hands are enacting, controlling. Consequently, we observe them, to some degree, with objectivity.
This film had a similar impact to that of my favourite film, Rear Window (1954), which shocked and impressed me when I first saw it. They are similar, perhaps, in more ways than I thought. Both attempt to disgust the viewer with a sadistic voyeurism. Both seem to have a contempt for the audience, in that they wish to implicate them in the horror (Hitchcock, in this case, surprisingly, is warmer is his delivery, though Haneke is undoubtedly the lesser vain director). We are the viewers, we indulge in the what we should not see. Both directors make you aware of this. Is this what Brecht did? Haneke talked about how he wanted the family characters to have the broadest appeal possible. Most people who go to the cinema are middle-class and people generally associate most closely with the family, and this is how his characters were created - very specifically for its audience. So then, the characters on screen reflect the audience to create a bond and then their vulgarity is consequently reflected. The audience become implicated.
It's a film I've thought about a lot since I saw it, although I've never watched it again. This is partly in fear, for a long time after I watched it, I wasn't sure whether I liked it, or even approved of such shock cinema. I could never decide, though it had a massive impact on me. The person I went with thought it was excellent and I remember judging her for this - for taking pleasure in such a horrific film. Of course, you are meant to take pleasure in it, but certainly it was Haneke's intention to make people question why they were taking pleasure in it.
So on boxing day, I watched Funny Games U.S. (2007) with a friend who had also seen the original. I knew it was a shot for shot remake and that Haneke had directed it. It was good, though there was something missing in the translation. I think, ultimately, it was the performances which were weaker. This can only be attributed to Haneke's direction, and knowing that his English isn't very good, it makes sense that it hasn't transferred well. You seem to become aware of the dialogue at key moments. It's a little like when you read a translated novel and you become aware of the translation process. Something is stilted. Another issue could be casting. I'm still unsure as to whether Michael Pitt was a good choice. I mentioned on the phone to a friend that his campness was a quality that was missing from the Austrian original. However, as she pointed out, this does add to his terrifying nature. Ultimately, I became too aware of Pitt's performance. Naomi Watts was excellent, as was Tim Roth, despite his annoying face.
The film itself had a saturated feel, almost whitened, with heightened contrast, to indicate the terror of the subjects. This was noticably effective. The two terrorists themselves were always polite, smiling for the most part, untouched by the misery they inflicted, and as such, never sweated.
This film had a similar impact to that of my favourite film, Rear Window (1954), which shocked and impressed me when I first saw it. They are similar, perhaps, in more ways than I thought. Both attempt to disgust the viewer with a sadistic voyeurism. Both seem to have a contempt for the audience, in that they wish to implicate them in the horror (Hitchcock, in this case, surprisingly, is warmer is his delivery, though Haneke is undoubtedly the lesser vain director). We are the viewers, we indulge in the what we should not see. Both directors make you aware of this. Is this what Brecht did? Haneke talked about how he wanted the family characters to have the broadest appeal possible. Most people who go to the cinema are middle-class and people generally associate most closely with the family, and this is how his characters were created - very specifically for its audience. So then, the characters on screen reflect the audience to create a bond and then their vulgarity is consequently reflected. The audience become implicated.
It's a film I've thought about a lot since I saw it, although I've never watched it again. This is partly in fear, for a long time after I watched it, I wasn't sure whether I liked it, or even approved of such shock cinema. I could never decide, though it had a massive impact on me. The person I went with thought it was excellent and I remember judging her for this - for taking pleasure in such a horrific film. Of course, you are meant to take pleasure in it, but certainly it was Haneke's intention to make people question why they were taking pleasure in it.
So on boxing day, I watched Funny Games U.S. (2007) with a friend who had also seen the original. I knew it was a shot for shot remake and that Haneke had directed it. It was good, though there was something missing in the translation. I think, ultimately, it was the performances which were weaker. This can only be attributed to Haneke's direction, and knowing that his English isn't very good, it makes sense that it hasn't transferred well. You seem to become aware of the dialogue at key moments. It's a little like when you read a translated novel and you become aware of the translation process. Something is stilted. Another issue could be casting. I'm still unsure as to whether Michael Pitt was a good choice. I mentioned on the phone to a friend that his campness was a quality that was missing from the Austrian original. However, as she pointed out, this does add to his terrifying nature. Ultimately, I became too aware of Pitt's performance. Naomi Watts was excellent, as was Tim Roth, despite his annoying face.
The film itself had a saturated feel, almost whitened, with heightened contrast, to indicate the terror of the subjects. This was noticably effective. The two terrorists themselves were always polite, smiling for the most part, untouched by the misery they inflicted, and as such, never sweated.
New Morning
This be the morning that i begin to move my legs again. Or the morning that I empty my guts. Or the morning that I decide not to go for a run. Rosie suggested last night we attempt a jaunt through the park today and it will hopefully be the start of my training for one of the following: The Grindleford Gallop on March 13th, a 21 mile cross-country race that i did 2 years ago and is probably still my favourite race; the Sheffield Half Marathon on 25th April, a rather shitty race, 13.1 miles in length, yet possibly a more realistic target that the Gallop; the Nottingham Marathon, which I've never done before, but is in September and again is a realistic target; the New York Marathon in November, which would be incredible but looking quite expensive and difficult to get into; then around the same time, the Snowdonia Marathon, the only Marathon I've completed, just over a year ago. I think of running as a strange anomaly in my life, in that it's a definitive thing that I control and take pleasure in controlling. The fact that I not only enjoy running but am not too bad at it makes this easier for me of course. I suppose when you find something you're good at, there's an easy tendency to let it become, even if only small, a defining quality. I don't see running like this. But when you can control something fully - and I find it easy to do so in this case - there's a pleasure there. You do feel more definitive. Unlike songwriting, which is something I do, it's an action which you either achieve or you don't. Songwriting is ambiguous in definition, despite the idiocy of music journalism, which generally operates with a canonistic perspective.
I've been smoking recently and this is another reason to run. Firstly, as a test to see what effect smoking has had on my running and secondly, as an impetus to stop, as I'm sure I'll have to do so if I'm going to train for a race. I've said to myself that smoking is one of those wonderful flow activities where you're engaged in something which takes up very little of your brain power yet enough for it to allow your imagination to work in other ways. Like washing up or having a shave. There's a meditative quality to it. This is true, but it's getting really fucking cold now and my thoughts are starting to freeze up when I have to go outside. Time to stop.
I've been smoking recently and this is another reason to run. Firstly, as a test to see what effect smoking has had on my running and secondly, as an impetus to stop, as I'm sure I'll have to do so if I'm going to train for a race. I've said to myself that smoking is one of those wonderful flow activities where you're engaged in something which takes up very little of your brain power yet enough for it to allow your imagination to work in other ways. Like washing up or having a shave. There's a meditative quality to it. This is true, but it's getting really fucking cold now and my thoughts are starting to freeze up when I have to go outside. Time to stop.
Sunday 27 December 2009
I finished me a book
A grand achievement, given my recent failure to read 300 pages within a month. My previous two attendances at book club have had me within 50 pages of their ending, and as such, I've cultivated a silent yet impressive look of smugness to mask my ignorance to the discussion. I wear that look all over my filthy face like a hot towel. So in finishing a book I got for Christmas (that's right, 2 days ago!), I feel mighty fine about myself. Admittedly, the book is written by a blogger and as such is somewhat light in tone and breezy in style. And it's worth knowing the book - or perhaps lengthy essay - is but 118 pages long. Fuck that, I finished it before new year, I am some kind of reading god. Perhaps though, one should always feel a little guilty for reading something that you breeze through. It's like you know that you're settling for something that comforts you, that reinforces what you believe or could easily (and lazily) believe.
Savage Mules, the book in question, was written by Dennis Perrin, whom I know nothing about. He's written for lots of online news sites (the Huffington Post being the only one I'd heard of) and is seemingly an agitator of mainstream American politics. Looking at historical examples, he challenges the idea that the Democratic Party are on the whole, of an anti-war stance. He takes on everyone, from the saintly Clinton to poor old Jimmy Carter. Woodrow Wilson comes off pretty bad, and he even savagely skewers the sacred cows, FDR and JFK. It's breezy and blog-like in nature and his attacks are dropped in nonchalantly, with the reader wondering how well researched these points are. For example, "His [JFK] Alliance For Progress was a cover for death squad activity throughout the Americas, in an effort to rid the region of burgeoning Castros." I've read a little about the Alliance For Progress and thought it sounded like a vain diplomatic charade that made Kennedy look like he was doing something positive in Latin America without doing much at all, but this comment intrigued me. Is this true? It wouldn't surprise me but I'd like to know more. Expecting a little too much from Journa-lite? Perhaps. It's fun to read nonetheless as he tears through the modern political world of ambitious pretty people with little backbone and no sense of humour. He writes with passion and precision about the sad point-scoring and "sleazy fear-mongering" the Democrats enact, displaying "the same contempt for the populace as do GOP reactionaries." A minor criticism would be that his historical attacks derail his central argument. One that irked me was how he took on Andrew Jackson as a Democrat President. This in itself is true, but his thesis seems to be that the contemporary image of Democrats amongst Americans of all political persuasions is at odds with their actions. The political parties pre-civil war were undoubtedly different beasts to their latter 20th Century guises. Given that the Republican Party was an abolitionist Party - indeed its inception came from its opposition to slavery - it's fair to say these were different times and calling Andrew Jackson a war-mongerer Dem in the same breath as Clinton the war-mongering Dem doesn't support his argument effectively. They were simply different parties.
Reading the book was like a good reminder to distrust politicians. Like remembering to smile or to be nice to people. Having someone tell you that Harry Truman dropped 2 nuclear bombs isn't particularly insightful journalism. Neither is reminding you he was a Democrat. More like an 'oh yeah' moment. His better writing comes in his analysis of the party in the last twenty years, no doubt where he is better versed due to personal experience. And then, in the last couple of chapters - now that we've got to know him a little better - he indulges in self-congratulatory anecdotes and the democratization (it's an American book, ok, leave me alone) process of blogging. Ooh, I feel bad ending negatively. It was nice.
Dennis Perrin - Savage Mules: The Democrats and Endless War
Savage Mules, the book in question, was written by Dennis Perrin, whom I know nothing about. He's written for lots of online news sites (the Huffington Post being the only one I'd heard of) and is seemingly an agitator of mainstream American politics. Looking at historical examples, he challenges the idea that the Democratic Party are on the whole, of an anti-war stance. He takes on everyone, from the saintly Clinton to poor old Jimmy Carter. Woodrow Wilson comes off pretty bad, and he even savagely skewers the sacred cows, FDR and JFK. It's breezy and blog-like in nature and his attacks are dropped in nonchalantly, with the reader wondering how well researched these points are. For example, "His [JFK] Alliance For Progress was a cover for death squad activity throughout the Americas, in an effort to rid the region of burgeoning Castros." I've read a little about the Alliance For Progress and thought it sounded like a vain diplomatic charade that made Kennedy look like he was doing something positive in Latin America without doing much at all, but this comment intrigued me. Is this true? It wouldn't surprise me but I'd like to know more. Expecting a little too much from Journa-lite? Perhaps. It's fun to read nonetheless as he tears through the modern political world of ambitious pretty people with little backbone and no sense of humour. He writes with passion and precision about the sad point-scoring and "sleazy fear-mongering" the Democrats enact, displaying "the same contempt for the populace as do GOP reactionaries." A minor criticism would be that his historical attacks derail his central argument. One that irked me was how he took on Andrew Jackson as a Democrat President. This in itself is true, but his thesis seems to be that the contemporary image of Democrats amongst Americans of all political persuasions is at odds with their actions. The political parties pre-civil war were undoubtedly different beasts to their latter 20th Century guises. Given that the Republican Party was an abolitionist Party - indeed its inception came from its opposition to slavery - it's fair to say these were different times and calling Andrew Jackson a war-mongerer Dem in the same breath as Clinton the war-mongering Dem doesn't support his argument effectively. They were simply different parties.
Reading the book was like a good reminder to distrust politicians. Like remembering to smile or to be nice to people. Having someone tell you that Harry Truman dropped 2 nuclear bombs isn't particularly insightful journalism. Neither is reminding you he was a Democrat. More like an 'oh yeah' moment. His better writing comes in his analysis of the party in the last twenty years, no doubt where he is better versed due to personal experience. And then, in the last couple of chapters - now that we've got to know him a little better - he indulges in self-congratulatory anecdotes and the democratization (it's an American book, ok, leave me alone) process of blogging. Ooh, I feel bad ending negatively. It was nice.
Dennis Perrin - Savage Mules: The Democrats and Endless War
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