I got a copy of "Bicycle Thieves" recently, free by buying a newspaper, can't remember which. Haven't watched it yet but I am looking forward to a viewing. It's considered to be one of the Italian greats and quite rightly so; others which are also considered greats are not nearly as good - well not nearly as entertaining. Rossellini's films are very famous because they told of the social situation of Italy after the war in a way that made Hollywood film seem false. Then there the films of Pasolini and Fellini, much admired by film society people but I wonder if they are as watchable now as when I was young and eager to be as arty as the next film society wallah.
Whatever, they made me think of some of those Italian films I used to see in The Globe cinema in Cardiff many moons ago: not the classics of Fellini and Rossellini but films which were shown in Italy to ordinary folks. I can't recall any of their titles but used to enjoy them tremendously and probably will never see them again. I don't think I would be able to order them on one of the many clubs which send you films for a months viewing for a few quid. They've gone for good; many people would say "good riddance" but not me: I'd love to see the one about the poor family taking a day out at the seaside: the mother, fat as a pig ready for slaughter, fussing about, packing stuff into a banger of a car for the day's outing; the father, elegant in a rough-hewn kind of way, all dressed up in a suit, the grandparents looking a little apprehensive, dressed in "sunday-best" attire - and keeping it all on when they get to the beach - the daughter, a dish of a girl whose curves were like Cyd Charisse's in "Band Wagon" - "she had more curves than a scenic railway".... I can't recall if there was a son or any other members of the family but they all somehow crammed themselves into the smallish car and went off to the beach. I don't think there was much of a story, it was just a day out, but what a film!
Then there were gangster films.... but the French made better ones I think. Won't see any of those again either. Never mind, some of the classics are watchable. Some. Not all. "Bicycle Thieves" is - I hope. Soon find out.
Thursday 23 September 2010
Sunday 19 September 2010
Coke
Chapter Arts Centre has been transformed from what it was some years ago, a dingy, untidy sort of place much loved by artists and their ilk - layabouts, a lot of them - into a glossy, light, palace-like restaurant with surrounding rooms: cinemas, theatres, art galleries. I was prepared to believe that the artists and layabouts would have left and gone elsewhere since artists (and layabouts) prefer the down-to-earth sorts of places they believe bring them closer to reality.
But no, it's frequented by the same old, same old. Most have either long hair or no hair at all; most wear jeans and open-necked shirts; some wear hats - indoors! They all eat veggie food (it seems to me) or vegan food - the vegan soup I had was pretty awful: I think it had a lot of spinache in it, a green I have never liked but which, it seems, even in quality restaurants has become popular, probably because there is the idea prevalent amoung the chattering classes that it's good for you. Everybody is lean and healthy looking. Many brings kids with them and the kids run about as if it's a playground. But the beer and wine is good and the food isn't bad if you like pasta and veggie stuff and spinache.
The other day I was there to see a film, got there early and sat at a table with a glass of wine waiting for start of the film. In came a man who was not an artist or layabout; he looked a bit like a business man come there for a spot of lunch, no jacket on but trousers obviously part of a pin-striped suit. And he was fat. He was almost as wide as he was tall. Yet he didn't look unhealthy; he looked the sort of fellow who might, a few years ago, have taken his place comfortably (or maybe uncomfortably) in the front row of a rugby team.
He ordered something at the bar and sat at a table near me. He took out his laptop and proceeded to work on it. Then up came a lithe waiter with the man's order: a plate of beefburger with large bap and chips piled high. Turning from his computer he concentrated all his attention on his meal. He cut his bap down the middle and stuffed half of this into his mouth, followed by a drink of coke; then into the body of chips his fork went managing to spike four or five of them before levering them into his mouth. Soon the meal was gone and he returned to working on his laptop before leaving.
I got up to go to see the film and had a glance at the bottle of coke he had consumed.
Diet coke!
But to be fair to him, that's probably the only sort of coke they sell there at Chapter.
But no, it's frequented by the same old, same old. Most have either long hair or no hair at all; most wear jeans and open-necked shirts; some wear hats - indoors! They all eat veggie food (it seems to me) or vegan food - the vegan soup I had was pretty awful: I think it had a lot of spinache in it, a green I have never liked but which, it seems, even in quality restaurants has become popular, probably because there is the idea prevalent amoung the chattering classes that it's good for you. Everybody is lean and healthy looking. Many brings kids with them and the kids run about as if it's a playground. But the beer and wine is good and the food isn't bad if you like pasta and veggie stuff and spinache.
The other day I was there to see a film, got there early and sat at a table with a glass of wine waiting for start of the film. In came a man who was not an artist or layabout; he looked a bit like a business man come there for a spot of lunch, no jacket on but trousers obviously part of a pin-striped suit. And he was fat. He was almost as wide as he was tall. Yet he didn't look unhealthy; he looked the sort of fellow who might, a few years ago, have taken his place comfortably (or maybe uncomfortably) in the front row of a rugby team.
He ordered something at the bar and sat at a table near me. He took out his laptop and proceeded to work on it. Then up came a lithe waiter with the man's order: a plate of beefburger with large bap and chips piled high. Turning from his computer he concentrated all his attention on his meal. He cut his bap down the middle and stuffed half of this into his mouth, followed by a drink of coke; then into the body of chips his fork went managing to spike four or five of them before levering them into his mouth. Soon the meal was gone and he returned to working on his laptop before leaving.
I got up to go to see the film and had a glance at the bottle of coke he had consumed.
Diet coke!
But to be fair to him, that's probably the only sort of coke they sell there at Chapter.
Saturday 18 September 2010
Jokes
I met a comedian a long time ago. We were both staying at a camping site in South Wales, me with my family of wife and young kids on holiday, him on the way to another gig in the valleys. He was not at all funny as I expected him to be when he told me what he did for a living; he was a good conversationalist, telling me about the various places where he did his stuff. He said "I have an advert in Stage Magazine - seen me? My catchword is 'Cease'." He never told me what that meant. He told me that there was a club in Cardiff which had a low cealing and thus, he said, can't think why, you couldn't get a laugh; then there was another place in The Rhondda where you could get heaps of laughs. "High ceiling?" I asked, but he didn't catch on to my little "joke", or didn't want to.
But there, perhaps I didn't tell it right. Because you see "it's the way you tell 'em" ain't it?
Certainly some of my favourite comedians of "the old school" i.e. of a long time ago, didn't tell many jokes but relied for laughs on the creation of an amusing character. Robb Wilton did his "The day war broke out, my wife said to me...." act. I don't think there a single joke in the act. Max Miller told jokes, of course - dirty jokes often (not as dirty as they are now though). Then there was a very well spoken man who told stories about himself and the various pickles he got himself into.
The best joke at Edinburgh this year was, so they say, this one: "I've just come back from a 'Once-In-A-Life-time' holiday; I tell you what - never again."
This brings to mind a joke by Bob Monkhouse: "When I told everyone I wanted to be a comedian, they all laughed. Well, they're not laughing now."
Here is a joke from last week's Spectator, from "The Wiki Man", Rory Sutherland: "A toursit is exploring the coast of a minor Greek island when he arrives at a charming fishing village, a model of contented prosperity. Freshly painted boats bob at their moorings... On the hillside there is a handsome church. Enchanted, our traveller asks several passers-by to recommend a good bar for a drink. Each time he is told that the best place is the "Taverna of Dimitri the Sheep-Shagger". He visits and in the course of a few drinks befriends the patron Dimitri who is a charming, educated and accomplished man. A few drinks later he feels emboldened to raise the topic of the host's name. Dimitri leads him outside and places an avuncular hand on the traveller's shoulder. 'You see those boats?' he sighs. "I built them all myself with my bare hands. But do they call me Dimitri the Boat-Builder? No. The church and the orphanage on the hillside. That's my work too. But do they call me Dimitri the church builder? Never! I even built the harbour wall. And do they call me Dimitri the harbour-maker? They do not. You shag one damn sheep....."
But there, perhaps I didn't tell it right. Because you see "it's the way you tell 'em" ain't it?
Certainly some of my favourite comedians of "the old school" i.e. of a long time ago, didn't tell many jokes but relied for laughs on the creation of an amusing character. Robb Wilton did his "The day war broke out, my wife said to me...." act. I don't think there a single joke in the act. Max Miller told jokes, of course - dirty jokes often (not as dirty as they are now though). Then there was a very well spoken man who told stories about himself and the various pickles he got himself into.
The best joke at Edinburgh this year was, so they say, this one: "I've just come back from a 'Once-In-A-Life-time' holiday; I tell you what - never again."
This brings to mind a joke by Bob Monkhouse: "When I told everyone I wanted to be a comedian, they all laughed. Well, they're not laughing now."
Here is a joke from last week's Spectator, from "The Wiki Man", Rory Sutherland: "A toursit is exploring the coast of a minor Greek island when he arrives at a charming fishing village, a model of contented prosperity. Freshly painted boats bob at their moorings... On the hillside there is a handsome church. Enchanted, our traveller asks several passers-by to recommend a good bar for a drink. Each time he is told that the best place is the "Taverna of Dimitri the Sheep-Shagger". He visits and in the course of a few drinks befriends the patron Dimitri who is a charming, educated and accomplished man. A few drinks later he feels emboldened to raise the topic of the host's name. Dimitri leads him outside and places an avuncular hand on the traveller's shoulder. 'You see those boats?' he sighs. "I built them all myself with my bare hands. But do they call me Dimitri the Boat-Builder? No. The church and the orphanage on the hillside. That's my work too. But do they call me Dimitri the church builder? Never! I even built the harbour wall. And do they call me Dimitri the harbour-maker? They do not. You shag one damn sheep....."
Thursday 16 September 2010
British Films
One day in the library in Cardiff some years back, I came across a friend of mine who held a rather large book in his hands. He had a great, cynical sort of grin on his face. "Look at this," he said in a way that could have meant ''Have you ever seen anything like this?'. He showed me the title: "Masterpieces of the British Cinema". I had to laugh. Neither of us believed there was such a thing never mind more than one. We had, I suppose, been brought up on American films: Bogart, Gary Cooper, Clark Gable, Edward G. Robinson films. Gangster films, westerns, musicals. We considered British films to be inferior and I think we were right. Though in retrospect I think we, or I anyway, weren't used to the kind of film the British studios were producing.
Simon Heffer is giving a series of talks this week on Radio 3 (at 11 pm every night, a time when most of us are in bed - well done BBC!) on, maybe not actual masterpieces of the British cinema but quality films that were made during the war and which were reflecting on our island's way of life before the war and wondering what it would be like afterwards. Films that were essentially revolutionary in content and intent (most studios were, he said, full of socialists).
The first film he highlighted was "Went the day Well". He didn't say so but I have the feeling the idea came from Graham Greene, maybe a short story? A troup of soldiers arrives at an archetypal English country town and wishes to have help from the villagers in a project that they have in mind. However, they are not English at all though they seem to be: they are Germans there to disrupt communications - or some such thing. They are brutal and start to take over the village, killing some, threatening to kill schoolchildren - in short carry out what we believed were typically German atrocities.
I saw this film some years ago and thought it a real thriller. I have to say that I was amazed to find that here was a British film that, while keeping that special quality of Englishness - the local yokels were there, the vicar was there (the first to be shot), the grand lady was there - all the stereotypes were there, it painted a picture of a Britain in which all pulled together, one society working together, class barriers pulled down and so on.
OK, it never happened but to a degree it did: the Atlee government brought in reforms the like of which the country had never seen, a National Health Service came into being, children from all kinds of homes were educated to a higher level than ever before, people went to universities from quite ordinary backgounds and so on.
The next film he talked about was "A Canterbury Tale" which I did not like when I saw it years ago. He called it a masterpiece - maybe there was one after all then! It flopped at the box office. After Heffer's talk I'd like to see it again; seems there was more in it that met the eye.
Simon Heffer is giving a series of talks this week on Radio 3 (at 11 pm every night, a time when most of us are in bed - well done BBC!) on, maybe not actual masterpieces of the British cinema but quality films that were made during the war and which were reflecting on our island's way of life before the war and wondering what it would be like afterwards. Films that were essentially revolutionary in content and intent (most studios were, he said, full of socialists).
The first film he highlighted was "Went the day Well". He didn't say so but I have the feeling the idea came from Graham Greene, maybe a short story? A troup of soldiers arrives at an archetypal English country town and wishes to have help from the villagers in a project that they have in mind. However, they are not English at all though they seem to be: they are Germans there to disrupt communications - or some such thing. They are brutal and start to take over the village, killing some, threatening to kill schoolchildren - in short carry out what we believed were typically German atrocities.
I saw this film some years ago and thought it a real thriller. I have to say that I was amazed to find that here was a British film that, while keeping that special quality of Englishness - the local yokels were there, the vicar was there (the first to be shot), the grand lady was there - all the stereotypes were there, it painted a picture of a Britain in which all pulled together, one society working together, class barriers pulled down and so on.
OK, it never happened but to a degree it did: the Atlee government brought in reforms the like of which the country had never seen, a National Health Service came into being, children from all kinds of homes were educated to a higher level than ever before, people went to universities from quite ordinary backgounds and so on.
The next film he talked about was "A Canterbury Tale" which I did not like when I saw it years ago. He called it a masterpiece - maybe there was one after all then! It flopped at the box office. After Heffer's talk I'd like to see it again; seems there was more in it that met the eye.
Sunday 12 September 2010
Writers
There's an article in yesterday's Telegraph about a wine-tasting school in this country; best in the world Jonathan Ray maintained. I don't know if the wine-taster I once knew went there but he was a genuine taster who worked at Harvey's where they make sherry (or just bottle it, probably). I once went with the staff of the college I worked at on a coach trip to Bristol and Harvey's. What a day! We tasted - and swallowed - more sherry that day than I have since in a year..... I tell a lie: I'm quite fond of a glass of sherry, especially Brsitol Cream, and so have put away quite a few bottles over the years.
He, the wine-taster, told me he was a chemist. But that's all he told me about his work during the week - we met a few times at weekend writing classes where, of course, no one talked much about what they did for a living; they wanted to talk "writing" - possibly wishing they might get out of full time employment and follow the romance of writing for a living. Some hope for most! Though one woman did have a book turned down by Mills and Boon but wouldn't do what they advised her to and get it published; too much pride. I told her to swallow her pride and get on the 10 000 pound bonanza band wagon called Mills-and-Boon Money-Making Machine.
I did happen to find out what some of the writers on the course did for a living. There was one who was a designer at Royal Doulton, another was a translater - she spoke 6 languages - another a librarian who loved Gilbert and Sullivan and had written and published (himself) a book on a famous D'Oily Carte impresario, another a nurse in a mental hospital who wrote only poetry. Then there was a successful novelist, Roger Ormerod, who shouldn't have been there since successful people don't usually go to writing classes - they take them. Then there was a youngish woman who wrote erotic novels which had been published and now wanted to turn to thriller writing. Good writer. A most unerotic looking woman. Don't know if she ever made it but I think she might have since she went at her work with great intensity and seriousness as if the content didn't affect her emotionally at all.
One woman who was a regular didn't work at all; she loved bats and told one of the blokes on the course that he had no aura. Didn't worry him because he knew he didn't and didn't want one anyway, thank you very much. What can you do with an aura except wear it?
He, the wine-taster, told me he was a chemist. But that's all he told me about his work during the week - we met a few times at weekend writing classes where, of course, no one talked much about what they did for a living; they wanted to talk "writing" - possibly wishing they might get out of full time employment and follow the romance of writing for a living. Some hope for most! Though one woman did have a book turned down by Mills and Boon but wouldn't do what they advised her to and get it published; too much pride. I told her to swallow her pride and get on the 10 000 pound bonanza band wagon called Mills-and-Boon Money-Making Machine.
I did happen to find out what some of the writers on the course did for a living. There was one who was a designer at Royal Doulton, another was a translater - she spoke 6 languages - another a librarian who loved Gilbert and Sullivan and had written and published (himself) a book on a famous D'Oily Carte impresario, another a nurse in a mental hospital who wrote only poetry. Then there was a successful novelist, Roger Ormerod, who shouldn't have been there since successful people don't usually go to writing classes - they take them. Then there was a youngish woman who wrote erotic novels which had been published and now wanted to turn to thriller writing. Good writer. A most unerotic looking woman. Don't know if she ever made it but I think she might have since she went at her work with great intensity and seriousness as if the content didn't affect her emotionally at all.
One woman who was a regular didn't work at all; she loved bats and told one of the blokes on the course that he had no aura. Didn't worry him because he knew he didn't and didn't want one anyway, thank you very much. What can you do with an aura except wear it?
Saturday 4 September 2010
Westerns
Ray Winstone in yesterday's Times is interviewed about his obsession with Westerns. He loved them as a kid and he still loves them; he didn't actually say so but I had the feeling he would like to be in one ( he did make an Australian film that was close to being a Western). When he was a kid he played "cowboys and indians" and said that modern children were missing out sending their time with heads bowed over small game machines by not playing games like that - health n' safety rears its ugly head again!
He mentions a few films he liked: "The Searchers" and "High Noon" being particular favourites; he also gave tremendous praise to John Wayne believing him to be a very fine actor indeed. He specially mentioned a scene in "Red River" when Wayne says to his son "I'm going to kill you" wiith real vehemence.
He didn't mention any of the Anthony Mann westerns, the ones that mostly starred James Stewart, like "Winchester 73" or one I particularly like by Mann, "Man of the West" which has an ageing Gary Cooper and an ageing but brilliant Lee J. Cobb (was he ever anything but brilliant?). Nor did he mention "Shane" which is one of the greats, surely.
There are a few I like that aren't considered great or, for that matter, very good. I'm thinking of the one in which John Wayne uses children to take his cattle across country - always given 2 stars in the Radio Times. Then there's "Stagecoach".
I was brought up on Westerns: The Lone Ranger, Buck Jones, Hopalong Cassidy etc. Not much good but good fun and always with the showdown at the ebd where, in all great Westerns, the man in white meets the man in black in the street and it's good against evil.
When John Ford was interviewed, which he didn't like, he said dismissively: "I just make Westerns".
What greater achievement can there be?
He mentions a few films he liked: "The Searchers" and "High Noon" being particular favourites; he also gave tremendous praise to John Wayne believing him to be a very fine actor indeed. He specially mentioned a scene in "Red River" when Wayne says to his son "I'm going to kill you" wiith real vehemence.
He didn't mention any of the Anthony Mann westerns, the ones that mostly starred James Stewart, like "Winchester 73" or one I particularly like by Mann, "Man of the West" which has an ageing Gary Cooper and an ageing but brilliant Lee J. Cobb (was he ever anything but brilliant?). Nor did he mention "Shane" which is one of the greats, surely.
There are a few I like that aren't considered great or, for that matter, very good. I'm thinking of the one in which John Wayne uses children to take his cattle across country - always given 2 stars in the Radio Times. Then there's "Stagecoach".
I was brought up on Westerns: The Lone Ranger, Buck Jones, Hopalong Cassidy etc. Not much good but good fun and always with the showdown at the ebd where, in all great Westerns, the man in white meets the man in black in the street and it's good against evil.
When John Ford was interviewed, which he didn't like, he said dismissively: "I just make Westerns".
What greater achievement can there be?
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