No-Necked Monsters

In the Blogosphere...

2010-03-27T09:02:00.003+11:00

Can anyone hear me blog?

Just wondering... It has been a while.

The End...

2007-10-18T18:28:00.000+10:00

Just in case you were wondering, though I know you have pretty much figured it out. The no necked monsters are drunk on ice cream and won't be updating anymore.

Thanks for sticking around.

x

Sleeping Beauty

2007-07-20T18:00:00.000+10:00

STAGE :: Sleeping Beauty
By Michael Scott
VIC | 18.07.2007

Fairy tales have lost their punch. The versions we are fed today seem innocuous to us as we grow up - they are pretty and safe and they have happy endings. Disney has a good deal to answer for. Gone are the days when Cinderella’s sister hacked off her heel to try and fit her foot into that dainty glass slipper. The Malthouse’s latest production of Sleeping Beauty attempts to drag the fairy tale back to its less sanitised beginnings.

You know the story: girl pricks finger, girl falls asleep, girl dreams her life away, girl is woken up by a charming young prince; you’ve heard it many times before but this time you’ll hear it to the tune of Bowie, Elvis Costello, Nick Cave and the Divinyls. Michael Kantor and Maryanne Lynch’s production is the bastard love child of a concept album and a mix tape come to life, and it has the strengths and weaknesses inherent in both.
Read on if you can be bothered.

Incoming: MIFF

2007-07-20T17:57:00.000+10:00

MELBOURNE INTERNATIONAL FILM FESTIVAL :: Triple Dare + Hansel And Gretel + Little Red Flowers
By Michael Scott
VIC | 18.07.2007

This year’s MIFF is about to kick off and the new festival director has brought a few fresh ideas to the proceedings. This year MIFF is offering younger festival patrons (and the young at heart) something to get their teeth into through their Next Gen programme, a collection of films from a diverse range of cultures that don’t pander to the Hollywood “family films” mould.

You can check out my reviews of the three films at The Program

So, that's why that call it Falls.

2007-07-20T17:02:00.000+10:00

So we went snowboarding last weekend.

It was fun.

It hurt a lot.

It was cold.

But pretty.

See...

Andrew was a lot better than I was. At least he stayed upright for longer.

Plug

2007-07-06T10:53:00.001+10:00

Queue and A

2007-06-29T17:09:00.000+10:00

It started like this...

And if finished up like this...

And now Q+A is gone for good.

It was fun while it lasted. Actually, it was more than fun. To say the place has been important is a bit of an understatement. I think probably 80% of the people I know in Melbourne I met there or through people I met there. I could blather on but I won't because I am hung over.

Thanks Richard, Pete and Helen. Words cunt express... The 400 strong queue at the door before opening can though.

Oh, and if anyone finds my phone (and isn't it a coincidence that I lost it on the same day that the iPhone is released.)

Stamos-a-rama

2007-06-28T06:26:00.000+10:00

I picked this up on Dlisted (seeing as I am not in the habit of watching Kerri-Anne) and it is an absolute gem. Stamos is completely open and frank about what is left of his career and he manages to show Kerri-Anne up for the cloying monstrosity that she is.

In vino veritas...

PIXAR: 20 Years of Animation @ ACMI

2007-06-27T22:13:00.000+10:00

As it seemed I had been neglecting my +1 duties of late, I allowed my live-in Man About Town to drag me kicking and screaming to the opening of the Pixar exhibition at ACMI , the first of Melbourne's to "winter blockbuster" exhibitions. You can imagine the scores my fingernails have left in the cement paving.

It was quite an exhibition, which we finally got to see after a couple of speeches by the Minister for Tourism, the Head of ACMI and video greetings from Geoffrey Rush and John Lasseter.

Much was made of the never before seen artwork that goes into making Pixar's incredible films and some of it is really sublime. There is a real sense of the love that flows from the artists into their work. And the shear breadth of talent that the studio has amassed over the years.

The centrepiece of the exhibition (not that it even needs one) is a huge 3D zoetrope, which at first sight looks like a wedding cake that has been pompously overdecorated but the effect when it is hit by the strobe lighting is just phenomenal and would have been worth the price of admission, had we paid.

I imagine there will be a few small kiddies over the coming months drooling over the glass casing of the pretty whirring machine.

Quite a few of Pixar's earlier shorts are on display as well as artwork from the upcoming feature Ratatouille, which ended up being helmed by Brad "The Iron Giant" Bird (though he took the reigns over half way through so it'll be interesting to see how his hand is felt).

Go.

Wave Goodbye

2007-06-27T17:49:00.000+10:00

Had my last bout of hand therapy today.

Can't describe how good it feels. Almost a year of doctor's visits, pain, little black stitches, two operations, exercises, putty, and generally not being able to do stuff.

Today seemed a little routine but everyone was impressed. The doctor who saw me admitted he wouldn't have been able to do as good a job, which is encouraging.

Kate at hand therapy was just as impressed.

It is hard to believe it has almost been a year.

Know No Cure (for The Program)

2007-06-26T16:02:00.000+10:00

STAGE :: Know No Cure

By Michael Scott
VIC | 25.06.2007

On a nondescript operating table in some nondescript O.R., in some nondescript location, Cyber lies, ready to receive a nondescript operation. The procedure that follows sends him on a whacked-out, tripped up journey into an unravelling subconscious so fraught with nonsensical happenings that even a cursory attempt at explanation would appear futile.

Read the full play-whipping at The Program

Ocean's Thirteen (or, The Best Laid Plans...)

2007-06-18T16:14:00.000+10:00

Okay, so the first one was a lot of fun. Glitzy and fluffy.

The second one was a moderate amount of fun. Less glitzy, more fluffy.

The third one is a good deal of fun. It pulls back in the glitz and doesn't pad it with too much more fluff.

Let's face it. It is fun watching big, big stars in popcorners. Especially when they look as lusciously 70s as Soderberg's.

I can hardly remember the second film, but I remember enjoying it. That is pretty typical of these films though. Tomorrow, I'll forget I've seen this one.

This outing has no Roberts and no Zeta-Jones. What it does have is Barkin-galore, which is a perfect antidote. She brings some real class, and a few laughs, to the proceedings. So much so that at the end of the film, you'll be wondering where she has been these past few years.

The rest of the cast potter along as usual. They seem to be having fun and that has always been my biggest attraction to this franchise (I'll call it a franchise, but I don't see them making Ocean's lunchboxes for the kiddies).

Plot-wise, don't bother. I found myself sitting back saying to myself, "You don't know what is going on but it'll all come together in the end." And it did. Still, it wasn't as tightly composed as the first film.

Go, have fun, laugh and look at the pretty lights.

Monkey... Magic!

2007-06-18T15:55:00.000+10:00

Okay, I've got to be quick because I am at work. I just wanted to let you know that I just found out that ex (or maybe not so ex) blur frontman, Damon Albarn and his Gorillaz side-kick, artist Jamie Hewlitt, have teamed up to write an opera.

And it is based on the ancient Chinese legend of Monkey.

And it is premiering next week, in Manchester.

And it has Shaolin monks in it.

Here is a clip from a doco about the show, which is going to air in early July. I haven't seen it yet but I'll be watching it as soon as I get home.

To be honest, the original television show made me violently ill. I think it was something to do with my impressionable young mind and really bad dubbing of the English soundtrack.

I'll have to take a bucket along, I guess.

Feature: Troy Innocent :: Field Of Play (for The Program)

2007-06-13T12:19:00.000+10:00

Troy Innocent :: Field Of Play
By Michael Scott
VIC | 12.06.2007

Walking towards Digital Harbour in Melbourne’s Docklands is something of a journey into a barren wilderness. Yes, it is a weekday night but, even so, except for the few lone businessmen trekking towards their high-rise apartments, the buffeting winds seem to have blown everyone else away.

Tucked away down an alley, the bold green, blue and orange icons glowing from Troy Innocent’s latest urban art installation, Field of Play were commissioned to draw people into the growing technology precinct. The lights are bright, but the work’s attraction goes far beyond the reach of the cryptic symbols, seemingly stamped into the pavement by some ancient extraterrestrial lifeform, because Field of Play’s boundaries extend onto the Internet and into your mobile phone.

Continue reading at The Program...

Thanks Phil

2007-06-13T12:14:00.000+10:00

UPDATED... To prove that D is the most eloquent letter in the alphabet, check out this response.

Review: Shining City @ The Mechanics Institute (for The Program)

2007-06-06T14:14:00.000+10:00

STAGE :: Shining City
By Michael Scott
VIC | 04.06.2007

When John walks into his therapist’s office and admits to seeing a ghost of his recently deceased wife, he opens up an exploration not into the arcane but into the mundane.

Conor McPherson’s Tony Award nominated work Shining City is an examination of guilt and the disconnectedness of relationships in a world where disembodiment is far more tangible than fantastical.

Trot off and read the rest here...

500 Years of Coquettishness

2007-06-01T08:34:00.000+10:00

Someone seems to have set out to trump Michael Jackson's 'Black and White' video by morphing through 500 years of women in Western art.

The result is like a university professor's wet dream. A cavalcade of beauties, all with the same flirtatious smile. It is like walking through the gauntlet at Patong Beach in Phuket, just with fewer breasts. Painters in those times must have had huge egos.

Pretty spectacular, nonetheless.

via Boing Boing

Bogus Norwegian Creates Brilliant Politi-Art

2007-05-31T07:36:00.000+10:00

I bumped into these eloquent artworks while researching an article for MCV a couple of months back. They were attached to the end of the Y.E.A.H. HIV information page with the explanation:

Last month the Norwegian diplomat Charung Gollar was asked to present the UN with a graphic showing the main problems in the world in 2004, He presented a set of eight pictures entitled "The Power of Stars" and was applauded for the simplicity of his idea. In spite of having no pretension at all, his work was presented to participate on the Nobel Prize of Politic Marketing.

Unfortunately, this turns out to be a load of bollocks.

The actual title of the works is Meet The World and the artist, Icaro Doria had this to say via BrazilianArtists.net

The magazine Revista Grande Reportagem is a Hard Journalism magazine, on the same line as the Times. The idea was to bring across the concept that the magazine offers profound journalism about topics of real importance to the world of today.
This is how we thought of the concept Meet the World.

We started to research relevant, global, and current facts and, thus, came up with the idea to put new meanings to the colours of the flags. We used real data taken from the websites of Amnesty International and the UNO.

The campaign has been running in Portugal since January 2005. There are eight flags that portray very current topics like the division of opinions about the war in Iraq in the United States, the violence against women in Africa, the social inequality in Brazil, the drug trafficking in Columbia, Aids and malaria in Angola, etc.

With regards to the email presenting the campaign as being done by a Norwegian diplomat, this information is completely wrong. There is no Norwegian diplomat called Charung Gollar, there was no presentation in the UNO, and the campaign is not called ‘The Power of the Stars’. This was all invented and is going round the world via email.

That’s it, basically.

ICARO DORIA

Click through to see larger versions where you can read the captions.

Oh, I forgot to mention...

2007-05-25T09:18:00.000+10:00

A couple of months ago I had the second operation on my hand. Tendon is all free now, cast is off and now it is all down to building the strength up again.

Excrutiatingly painful operation and recovery but everything is in fine working order.

That is all.

The History Boys (or, The History Boys: The Movie)

2007-05-25T08:56:00.000+10:00

We finally managed to catch The History Boys last night. I'd been hanging out to see it since Richard and I saw the play about a month back. Rick and Donald had been in my ear about it like little angels and devils, one saying it was great and one saying it was decidedly mediocre. I thought it was solid, if not a little stagey.

Then, stagey is to be expected given that the film stars the NT/Broadway cast of Bennet's original play as well as its director, the inomporable Nicholas Hytner, who is making a name for himself filming his stage productions. Seeing as everyone had obviously said their lines a hundred thousand times before, it was a little "rehearsed" but not nearly as much as I had been warned of. Besides, I found the acting far superior to the stage production and thereby much more poinant. Except for the principal, who is obviously yet to realise that screen caricature is a little more subtle than its theatre counterpart.

I still have issues with the whole "you are a gay and a teacher so you must want to fiddle with your students" theme. I find it a little insulting and rather unbalanced in the film. The acceptance of the characters of Hector's proclivities seems highly unrealistic, even for the time. Not that it was meant to be realistic, it is all down to symbolic representation and on that score I think the movie fleshed out Bennet's attack on Thatherism quite effectively.

Brilliantly acted, well written though a little wooden in performance, The History Boys was an enjoyable night out. See it if you can't invent a time machine to see the original production. That is all.

I Send A Message...

2007-05-24T16:03:00.000+10:00

I went off instant messaging a while back because I had so many different friends lists in so many different programs and they would never marry up.

Until now.

This morning, after being compelled to download the new MSN Messenger (hoick, spit) I stumbled upon this little gem:

Yes that's right, all my instant messaging systems in one friendly duck. And with a bit of fiddling, it is a very handsome looking interface.

It is always nice to remove another piece of MSN from your life.

Ahhh...

Get it yourself, duckie.

Flights of Fantasy

2007-05-24T15:53:00.000+10:00

It looks like the aftershocks of Lord of the Rings are starting to quiver underfoot.

Here are some pretty looking epic fantasy films bulging with stars, ready to burst onto your cinema screens. They all come from reputable source material apparently and they look reasonably well crafted.

Stardust

The Golden Compass

Also, shots are leaking out of The Dark Is Rising set. Looking forward to this but terribly weary of Walden and their cookie cutter adaptations. They'd better not fuck with my childhood

And in other adaptation news. Filmstalker reports that Christopher Lee is off of Sweeney Todd because Tim Burton's extra characters had been removed. Burton tinkering with Sondheim, hmmm, as long as he isn't getting Elfman to rescore it, I'm happy.

Who Loves Gays?

2007-05-23T11:13:00.000+10:00

We love gays, and so does everyone in Britain apparently.

A new survey out in England says the love is spreading.

From Pink News:The Stonewall survey published today is one of the most wide-ranging examinations of attitudes in the Britain towards the gay community.

The results are heartening - even 49% of Daily Telegraph readers think that prejudice against gay and lesbian people should be tackled.

There is a bit of analysis over at the site along with some pretty graphs, which look like this:

As they say, it is quite a heartening read. Enjoy.

Gig: Clap Your Hands Say Yeah @ HiFi Bar 22/05/06

2007-05-23T00:19:00.000+10:00

Richard managaged to score a pair of last minute tickets to Clap Your Hands Say Yeah's second ever Australian gig at Melbourne's HiFi Bar this afternoon.

I said yes, yes, yes immediately but two things kept me from jumping for joy.

i) I was dead tired, having stayed up until 1am that morning to try and figure out how to use Adobe Flash.

ii) Ange and James had told me just a month ago that their outing to see CYHSY was quite possibly their worst gig ever.

I rushed home to get some sleep before the show (which of course didn't happen) and then met Richard at the door at quarter to 10.

Richard was a little late so I amused myself by psychopathically calling his mobile and playing spot the CYHSY fans. Given that the HiFi Bar is on Swanston Street, the latter was quite easy: tight fitting striped knit = CYHSY fan, polo shirt tucked into pants ≠ CYHSY fan.

Inside was pretty much as expected. Crammed to the brim with people, smokey and by and large not somewhere you'd want to be when you are tired. The band had already hit the stage and were blaring out one of their new tracks.

When I say blaring, I mean BLARING!!! The mix was awful and only exacerbated by the volume. At times the keyboards were so piercing that I thought someone was stabbing me in the ear with their cutting edge hairstyle. We are talking ringing in the ears that could turn anyone into a post impressionist master. That said, the sound did seem to be geared towards the new material. As soon as they piped up with their dance rock single "Satan Said Dance" the band shone.

Unfortunately, it sputtered out again after that track.

It was the band's first time in Oz so they had resolved to play some of their older stuff (which was a bit of a blessing because their newer material is a little plodding, which possibly explains Ange and James' reaction).

Ounsworth's vocals, which are charmingly esoteric on their recordings, came across a little try-hard in performance, mainly because they had nowhere to go. Bands understandably want to give a little more when they go live but Ounsworth's braying was already a little testing on their albums, live, in trying to up the ante, he pushed it over the edge. The result was a lot of meaningless whooping, cracked notes and megaphones.

Once again, I sound like I am being picky. A lot of the show was fantastic, especially their old stuff. But it was hit and miss.

One of the highlights was a new (newer than than the new album I believe... strike that, I believe it no longer) track which started with Icelandic tinks and ended in a post rock homage to Mogwai, or as Richard suggested, the soundtrack to 28 Weeks Later.

A strange night that would have passed immeasurably more pleasantly were I not falling asleep on my feet.

Prom Country

2007-05-21T17:59:00.000+10:00

Andrew and I hit the open road (or as open as it gets in Melbourne) this weekend and headed for Prom country.

It was scenic though a little brooding, which I think is pleasantly euphemistic for bitterly cold and violently windy. Thankfully the rain held out while we were in the park chasing the kangaroos, emus and wombats.

Saturday afternoon we bumped into this funny fellow by the trail on the way back from Squeaky Beach.

Saturday night we stayed in Foster, in a little country house that had been turned into a 10-sleeper backpackers. We took the double room and nobody else was there (or almost nobody) so we got the entire place to ourselves, lounge, heating, kitchen. It was a bit of a bargain at only $60.

The next morning we hit Mount Oberon to catch the view. It was worth it (click through to have a gander).

The plan is to return in summer to have a crack at the overnight hikes, backpacks and all. Can't wait. Who's in?

28 Weeks Later (or, BRAINSSSSS!!!)

2007-05-18T08:41:00.000+10:00

Sequels, sequels, sequels...

Let's wheel out that old chestnut. Was this one Empire or Re-loaded.

I didn't hold out much hope but the good reports started coming in. Seeing as we'd just rewatched the original (after watching Boyle's latest, Sunshine) we went along. And it was pretty strong.

More money, more guns, more gore, more, more, more... This is the Aliens school of sequel production, and they pull it off.

Juan Carlos Fresnadillo, whose excellent feature Intacto creeped the fuck out of me, shoulders the director's load this time and the transition is smooth (though the continuity is helped by the rumour that Boyle directed the first scene). Fresnadillo's eye for framing adds an eerie quality to the quieter scenes yet he tends to get a little bogged down when it gets to dealing with masses of the infected.

Carlyle was fantastic as always but he had an annoying ability to pop up in the most unlikely places. The kids, who are the core of the film are decent. The girl especially has the most amazing eyes. If she keeps in the game I reckon she's going to be a big name. Oh, and Boyle favourite, Rose Byrne, whom, after seeing her live, I am completely annoyed by. She's not actually acting, that is what she is like in real life. Urgh.

More money means more shots of empty London. More infected means more gore. I seriously had to close my eyes for about 20 seconds at one stage. Not a pretty sight.

There is also some wonderful geographic anomalies. Though not anywhere near as bad as last year's Children of Men.

All in all, a worthy sequel. Maybe not as creepy as the original but at the same time it doesn't have all that guff about repopulating the world at the end of it.

Check it.

Mummy...

2007-05-17T10:58:00.000+10:00

JP has just returned from Ireland and he may be feeling a little homesick cos he showed me this last night.

I love the way grown men still use the words Mummy and Daddy on the Emerald Isle.

It's more of the excellent Catherine Tate Show.

She has a way with accents, as you can clearly hear here. Éist!

The Science of Sleep (or, Take me at your word)

2007-05-15T15:31:00.000+10:00

So, it was a couple of weeks back now but Andrew and I did catch Michel Gondry's latest, Gael Garcia Bernal vehicle The Science of Sleep. I quite enjoyed it for the most part but Andrew decided to use the luxrious surroundings of the Westgarth to catch some extra Zzzs. To quote: "I purposefully made myself comfortable."

And rightly so. The film did meander, and if that's not your thing it isn't the most enjoyable cinematic experience. Gondry has an eye for innovation but he obviously works better with a focused screenwriter at his side. The visual flair of The Science of Sleep wears thin after about half an hour and no substance steps in to bolster it. It would have made a pleasant short film.

Go, but don't expect a masterpiece.

2 Out Of 3 Is Bad...

2007-05-15T15:21:00.000+10:00

So, first my computer died, and I mean REALLY died. I mean over $500 in data recovery centre if I want my stuff back died. Not that bothered now though because I have a spanking new Dual-core MacBook Pro to play with.

Then, last night, when I checked to see if Andrew's bike was okay, I found mine wasn't. Some fuck-knuckle took to my chain with some bolt cutters and made off with it.

I'll get a new one soon so I'll get over the loss reasonably quickly.

On the upside, it reminded me of this delightful Decemberists track:

I'm really sorry Steven
But your bicycle's been stolen
I was watchin' it for you
'Til you came back in the fall
Guess I didn't do such a good job after all

I was feeling really sorry Steven
And I spent all morning grieving
And everybody's saying
That you'll take the news gracefully
Somehow I don't think I'll be getting off that easily

I meant her no harm
When I left her unlocked
Outside the Orange Street Food Farm
I was just running in
Didn't think I'd be that long
I came out, she was gone
And all that was there was some bored old dog
Leashed up to the place where your bicycle had been
Guess we'll never see poor Madeleine again

Let this be consolation, Steven
That all the while you were in England
I treated her with care and respect
And gave her lots of love
And I was usually pretty good 'bout locking her up

Where has she gone?
Well, I bet she's on the bottom of a Frenchtown pond
Rudely abused on some hescher's joyride
So I wrote you this song
In the hopes that you'd forgive me
Even though it was wrong
Being so careless with a thing so great
And taking your poor Madeleine away, away

They say things come in threes. I wonder what is next.

Spiderman 3 (or, Spiderman just fuck off)

2007-05-03T09:30:00.000+10:00

Last night I was unlucky enough to catch a media screening of the year's first big budget disappointment. Who organises a media screening the night before the movie opens nationally? A distribution company who wants to minimise bad press, that's who.

I loved the other instalments of Spiderman but this one drops the ball so completely that it is laughable. Raimi's latest offering is so threadbare, it makes other comic book films look like Citizen Kane. You know the story, Peter is in love but self-obsessed, MJ is in love but-self pitying and Harry is in love but Peter-obsessed. Add two new villans and a new love interest but don't bother stirring.

There is so much crammed into Spiderman 3 that no time has been left to develop the characters motivations beyond the perfunctory stereotypical response to stimuli. The film pretty much runs itself. It is the tried and true superhero defeats villain, but not really, back he comes - three times over set against a turgid love story. Yawn.

Sorry if this sounds venomous (bad choice of words) but Spiderman 3 just does not deliver. Unfortunately the have greenlit another sequel. Please, please, please don't see this one, it only encourages them.

Round The Bay

2007-05-01T08:09:00.000+10:00

It is so nice when friends organise their own going away events. Sue organised a sprightly trip around Port Phillip Bay, which was made decidedly less sprightly after the first night drinking in Portarlington.

The ferry trip across to Sorento did little to quell the stomachs of some of the crew but that was soon remedied with some coffee and ~~Tatos~~ chips.

JT, lying on the beach, chatting to serial killers in Portsea and dancing under the bright lights of the Conti made for a memorable weekend.

Cheers Sue.

Lest We Get There Late

2007-05-01T07:35:00.000+10:00

Even after a heavy night of sleeping, Andrew and I managed to get to the dawn service just as everyone was leaving. Big crowd, all walking the other direction.

Still we stayed for the march, which I had never seen before.

Long but enjoyable.

300 (or, SparrrttaaaZZZzzzzzz)

2007-04-10T13:06:00.001+10:00

I know Shamil has been waiting for this review to pop up because he mentioned he was going to mention my delay on his blog. He didn't, of course, because his blog has fallen into an even greater state of disrepair than mine...

So, 300, a movie I'd been hanging out for for 8 months or so, one of the few hype machines I bought into. And once again, a massive let down.

It was fun for about 15 minutes, but let's face it, two hours of abdominal muscles in slow motion quickly becomes tedious. The plot is thinner than the character development, and that is saying something.

All body styling, no substance.

Dylan Moran @ Melbourne International Comedy Festival

2007-04-10T13:05:00.001+10:00

Dylan was grand. Funny in his acerbic way. I've spent the last few weeks repeating his jokes about Catholics and biscuits so i am going to shut up and show you this photo of a Gremlin I took before the show.

Scary!

Gig: Pet Shop Boys, Groove Armada, Gnarls Barkly and The Rapture @ Sydney Myer Music Bowl 3/4/07

2007-04-03T23:48:00.000+10:00

I imagine there are a few punters in Melbourne pissed at Virgin's entre into the festival circuit. Firstly they didn't bring the whole kit and kaboodle down from up north even though they charged for the kit and two kaboodles. Secondly, they chose to fence the drinkink area into a corner of the music bowl that afforded little music. And finally, they locked most of the ticket holders far from the madding bands.

That didn't bother us because we had VIP tix, thanks to Don, and the wherewithall to outwit the gatekeepers and sneak the fest of our crew in.

Now, the music:

The Rapture was apparently good but we missed them for the most part. 'House Of Jealous Lovers' greeted us as we crested the hill and then it was all over. Pity.

Gnarles Barkly were interesting enough. Rather manufactured, as to be expected, all schoolgirls and shorts. CeCe was admirably frank about the revenue the album has brought him, which is obviously keeping him in hamburgers. I don't remember all that much about the music. Typical.

Groove Armada were enjoyable but surprisingly subdued. When they finally pulled their fingers out at the climax it was like looking into the show that could have bee. I did live the way the crowd cheered every time the boys pulled out a different instrument. I'd hate to see this crew seeing a symphony orchestra. Sheesh.

As soon as the Pet Shop Boys' dancers stepped on stage it was clear who the crowd had come for. They may wear funny clothes, they may not be able to sing, they may be heavy on the blips and have a rare fondness for spelling, but boy did they steal the show. In the absence of a Kylie concert, this was definitely the gayest thing I'd ever seen. E.N.J.O.Y.A.B.L.E.

I'd say more but the one handed typing thing is getting to me.

Segunda piel

2007-04-03T23:47:00.002+10:00

The only things recommending this film are Javier Bardem's buttocks, Jordi Molla's eyes and Cecilia Roth.

The music is appalling, the emotions overwrought, the characters annoyingly one dimensional and the ending a massively deflating cop out that allows little closure on the films themes.

Still, it has Javier Bardem's buttocks, Jordi Molla's eyes and Cecilia Roth.

Steer clear.

Lucia y el sexo

2007-04-03T23:47:00.001+10:00

A personal fave of mine.

Paz Vega is gorgeously endearing. Sex and Lucía is like three movies in one and it twists around and in on itself like a Mobius strip. Some people complain that the film is a little literary but that is what you get when one of the main character is a writer and the film is falling into a novel.

Julio Medem has a painterly eye. His palate drifts from washed out, sun bleached beach scenes to robustly sensual leather soaked interiors.

And the sex, lots of it, in many different forms. It's frank and explicit but in a grounded and recognisable way.

See it.

Death Of A President

2007-04-03T23:46:00.001+10:00

Okay, you've probably guessed the posts are still banking up, so I am going to wizz through them. Death Of A President. It was bizarre (and scarily satisfying) watching Bush die but little was made of the fact that the world would be a nightmare with Cheney in charge (I DON'T want Cheney in charge of me!).

High on verisimilitude but low on political insight. Interesting use of news footage. The mockumentary fell down in the wind up.

A little meh!

Zodiac: A (soon to be) Film Exposed Review

2007-03-30T11:08:00.001+10:00

This one will pop up on Film Exposed when it is released in the UK... have a sneak peek. I'll update the link as soon as it is posted.

Zodiac (15)

Dir: David Fincher, 2007, USA, 158 mins
Cast: Jake Gyllenhaal, Mark Ruffalo, Robert Downey Jr, Cloë Sevigny

David Fincher has had something of a charmed career delving into the darker side of the human psyche. His first take on the serial killer movie, Se7en (1995) stands as a modern day benchmark and heralded in a battery of pale imitators. Now, over ten years on, Fincher returns to the genre, tackling the true-life figures of San Francisco’s Zodiac murders, real people who, in no small part, informed a generation of filmmakers and ushered in the cinematic stalwart, Dirty Harry (1971).

Zodiac hit the headlines in 1969 when he wrote letters to San Francisco’s major newspapers confessing to the recent murder a couple of teenagers, gifting his identity to the authorities in a coded message, and promising a killing spree should the letters not be published. The case took a macabre stranglehold on the city for over a decade and took the lives of Homicide Inspector David Toschi (Ruffalo), the Chronicle’s crime writer, Paul Avery (Downey Jr.), and resident cartoonist Robert Graysmith (Gyllenhaal) into the grip of a murky obsession.

Luckily, obsession is Fincher’s bread and butter and he is able to spread it thickly, and with a studded hunting knife. There is a careful, composed, almost fetishist power to the murder scenes in Zodiac. Fincher eschews purely dramatic re-enactments and instead brings his innovative cinematic eye to the violent killings. It is interesting that these de bravura moments are nestled in between rather conventional, though exquisitely realised, procedural drama. Downey Jr brings a tragi-comic majesty to Avery, in a performance that seems to underpin the very style of the film, and Gyllenhaal’s doe-eyed stares have managed (yet again) to find him perfectly cast, this time as the chronically-misfit Graysmith, on whose one-man-crusading work the film is based.

Zodiac is a dense, measured and meticulously detailed film. When Graysmith walks into the Vallejo County Police Station and is greeted with a wall of files and evidence, it is easy to believe the immensity of the case, given the film’s constant barrage of names, places, faces, scenes, reports and ciphers. The resulting tone is dry but intoxicating. Intoxicating to the point that it is no great leap to buy into the feverish obsession of Graysmith. Everyone in the audience gets a tantalising taste of that dangerous game.

And so does the director.

It is clear that Fincher and the film’s writer, James Vanderbilt, have been caught up in the Zodiac’s allure. While the film takes its lead from Graysmith’s works, the filmmakers have sought to underpin his investigations with their own footwork and they have pointed their own fingers. Obsessives unconnected with the film have debunct the final conclusions of Zodiac, claiming they have been clouded by Graysmith’s distorted take. At the same time though, these same critics praise the film’s acknowledgement that the case is now blanketed in second guesses and misremembered happenings.

It is a kind of knowing nod that confirms Zodiac’s place outside the genre. The film is less concerned with the actual crimes than the effects that crimes have on the lives of those on the periphery. An entangling film that will have audiences leaving cinemas ever so slightly scarred.

Michael Scott

New Music Bianually

2007-03-30T11:06:00.002+10:00

What was going to be a monthly feature has turned into something a little more sporadic. Don't act surprised!

As a result this music is not particularly new but I'll offer it up anyway.

Read it like a book:

Brett Anderson is proving there is good music after Suede with Love Is Dead, silverchair's Straight Lines exposes Daniel Jons' dancing is anything but, Innocence is high on Björk's release schedule, or so this promo clip would suggest, and Bloc Party sings The Prayer, just as I'm praying some tix for their concert will come up cheap on ebay.

Word.

Impressionism The Aussie Way

2007-03-30T11:06:00.001+10:00

Let me start with the obligatory apology for posting so infrequently over the past month. The reason is three-fold, and then you get a lovely paper swan!

Now, I'll get into it, typing onehandedly.

Once upon a time, long long ago, I went to the opening of the NGV's latest mega-exhibition, Australian Impressionism. It was an affair crammed to capacity with Victoria's well-preserved elite. In between scoffing down mini pie floaters and quaffing red, we listened to countless speakers paying their respects to the Kulin Nation, despite the fact that if they'd shown up they'd have been turned away at the glass doors.

The endless speeches had one theme: we're so good, nobody refused us a lend of their paintings. (Though that begs the question - why didn't anyone ask to borrow McCubbin's triptych, 'The Pioneers'?)

At least they were telling the truth. The exhibition is impressive and exhaustively covers the careers of McCubbin, Roberts, Condor, Streeton and some token female whose worth they've "discovered".

Walking through the exhibition, the nation building nature of the happy little band of plein-air painters, who were to become known as The Australian Impressionists, is seen in every brush stroke. These images, especially the huge canvases in the final hall are burnt into our consciousness as richly as any mythology.

But it is the quieter, less obviously considered works that shine in this exhibition, the works from around Mentone and the notorious 9x5 panels, the largest collection to be shown since the notorious exhibition.

Go, see for yourself. Can't type anymore... hand tired.

The Good Shepherd (or, How NOT To Succeed At Filmaking By Trying Really Hard)

2007-03-30T11:04:00.000+10:00

The Good Shepherd + comfy recliner + wine = zzzzzz

The only thing that kept me awake was Mr Sharma's witty banter.

De Niro's ham-fisted attempt at sitting behind the camera quickly descends into monotonous and unashamed patriotism. Yes, you'd expect a little of that given that the film deals with the birth of the C.I.A. but I didn't think I was going to have to sit through countless scenes of men spewing their love for Ol' Man Sam.

The Good Shepherd sports an all star cast doing their all star thing. Jolie vamps, Cruddup charms, Gambon austeres. Of special mention is Matt Damon who pulls out such a lifeless performance that at times I thought he was channeling Charlton Heston.

Stay away!

Wilde (or, How To Succeed At Homosexuality Without Really Trying!)

2007-03-30T11:03:00.000+10:00

I have never made secret of the fact that I'd shag Stephen Fry. I don't know what it is. Brains are sexy.

What I love about Wilde is that even that Stephen Fry is nothing like Stephen Fry when he is playing our green carnation sporting hero, there is still a sense that he is still himself. That sounds confusing, I know. What I am trying to say is that Fry so inhabits Wilde that you don't think of Fry but when you take a second look, you realise that there is not really all that much difference going on. In many respects they are two petals on the same rose.

Wilde lived in an age when homogaysexuality was not considered a "lifestyle" and Fry's performance portrays that beautifully. he is simply a aesthete, a walking social commentary who can't help himself. He is a figure to be pitied but only in the respect that he didn't know when to tell the wrong people to fuck off. Then, who could tell Jude Law to leave, especially when he is doing his petulant aristocrat act.

Wilde is a beautifully realised film, thanks in no small part to the flawless performances. Ehle, Redgrave, Law, Wilkinson, Wanamaker, they are all played to the nines.

And, almost ten years on, they still haven't released the album Jude Law Murders Gilbert and Sullivan. They don't know a marketing opportunity even when it is square in their face.

Meals and Bars in the 'Bourne

2007-03-30T11:02:00.000+10:00

Winter's heading in... No more beer gardens and rooftop patios. I thought it time to check out a few venues that I have not frequented since I've been back, or that have, well, just appeared.

First off, Section 8, the shipping container place. It is sorta like the anti-St Jerome's, open (except for the cyclone wire fence), tree filled, and situated in a mirrored location, on a laneway just the other side of Swanston. Reasonable wine, great atmosphere though the palattes that make up the seating "booths" can tend toward the damp side.

Next up, the newest of the new, St Jerome's younger sibling, Sista Bella. Tucked away, all Melbourne-like, behind a dumpster, down a lane that comes off another lane. I'm surprised they don't have a secret knock to get you in. Decor is what you'd expect from the crew, something like Kingswood Country come to life. There is food coming but at time moment the staff will order you a pizza. Good enough for me.

The latest find, and the one that will be most sorely missed over the winter, is the patio out back of The Green Grocer on St Georges Road in North Fitzroy. Best brekkie in the city. I know Byron has been raving about it for years but I'd never bothered to believe him, to my detriment. Fantasticly peaceful organic glory.

Oh well.

It is time to start sourcing new hangouts for those chilly nights. The other side of Melbourne beckons.

Troll Slammin'

2007-03-27T17:46:00.001+10:00

I haven't posted for a while, I have been bad.

What has prompted me to crawl out of my little cave of writer's block? Possibly the best retort to an Interweb troll that I have ever read.

For some ungodly reason I was looking at the message boards for the film Map Of The Human Heart and one of the readers had trolled on about how bad the film was, listing his vehemence in point form.

The response to his vitriol was so beautifully layered, elegant and self contained:

"Other than that how did you like the play, Mrs. Lincoln?"

Snaps to you, Oklafalya!

Do You Shuffle?

2007-03-20T20:00:00.000+11:00

When I first came to Melbourne, fresh from the desert, my sister took me off to Sumadayze, gave me a pill and laughed at my dancing. Apparently, I couldn't move my feet right.

I took solace in the fact that she couldn't either. I had an excuse though, I'd never been to a dance party in my life. I thought the flashy foot thing was a part of the "rave" culture the world over.

Now, many years later, browsing through Wikipedia, I am shocked (though not appalled) to find that it is not. It is a distinctly Melbourne thing. And it has a name.

The Melbourne Shuffle.

Of course, now with the help of S.E. Asian Uni students, the steady exodus of Melburnians to London and YouTube, the shuffle truly is global.

I've always wanted to learn and vids like this make it painfully tangible.

Now, where's my talcum powder?

Bizarre Casting Rumours

2007-03-19T10:52:00.000+11:00

Abbie Cornish as the next Bond girl... Hmmm, love her but not sure.

Jennifer Garner as Spock's love interest in the Star Trek prequel... She does look rather alien (oh, and love her!)

Cate Blanchett in the next Indiana Jones film... OMGWTF?!?! That film just went up on the credibility scale.

Thanks to Filmstalker for the heads up!

Interpret this!

2007-03-19T10:46:00.000+11:00

Interpretative dance can happen in the most unlikely places.

Where is Samara when you need her most?

St Patrick's Day @ The Dan O'Connell Hotel

2007-03-19T10:37:00.000+11:00

The theme of the day was green.

The other theme was beer.

Oh, another theme was pirate music for some reason. (Frankly, I've heard better tunes from someone's tie.)

The rest of the photos can be reached by clicking on the pic above.

3... 2... 1... Poof! It's the Melbourne Queer Film Festival

2007-03-15T16:15:00.000+11:00

I'm about to head off to the Astor, Melbourne's beautiful art deco cinema, to hit the opening night film of the 17th Melbourne Queer Film Festival.

I can't say that I ever really enjoy the opening night. The films are usually MOR, there are a few too many homosexuals crammed into the foyer and a few too few drinks to go around.

Tonight holds a little more promise though. The film is Infamous (the other ~~white meat~~ Capote film), so it is a little stronger than most of the crowd-pullers they usually serve up to open the festival (even if Donald augers otherwise). The numbers have been limited (I think), and hell, I'm not paying for is so I am not going to complain.

I thought I'd collect in one place all of the reviewlettes that I've written that have been published on The Program or in MCV.

Looking at the list, it appears I have seen half the festival.

20 Centimetros
Backstage
Fabulous: The History Of Queer Cinema
The King And The Clown
The Line Of Beauty
Rainbow's End
Eternal Summer
The Blossoming of Maximo Oliveros
No Regret (slightly expanded)
Tanlines
Far From Sunset Boulevard
Boy Culture

Never fear, I am still going to see y'all at the fest. I've got tix to see Meth, Jack Smith and the Destruction of Atlantis and Dead Boyz Don't Scream and I have two more tix to squander somewhere.

Andrew Is Leaving (on a jet plane...)

2007-03-14T09:04:00.000+11:00

He doesn't know when he'll be back again.

He will be sorely missed. Not quite as sorely as his mother's cat would have been if it had stayed but sorely nonetheless.

He's off back to London to make another go of it.

So, it has happened, the Irish have finally taken over Falconer Street.

The farewell was quite touching. The boys got him a collection of Michel Gondry, Chris Cunningham and Spike Jonze dvds. It was quite amusing, Andrew was visibly surprised that they'd given such a thoughtful gift. And the boys revelled in it. Those Irish are full of surprises.

Best of luck, Andrew. It has been good catching up again. Even though I am sure you saw more of me than you were expecting to.

Sunshine (or, Sunshine, enihsnuS, Sunshi)

2007-03-13T08:03:00.001+11:00

We are so lucky, the other night we were some of the first people in the entire world to see the first reel of Danny Boyle's latest film, Sunshine. Unfortunately we were not lucky enough to see the second reel but we did get to see some of the third reel backwards.

What a farce.

It was all a part of Popcorn Taxi (they don't deserve a link) and their meet the maker sessions. We sat through the debacle because Danny was going to be there with Rose Byrne to chat about the film after we had seen it. Actually no, were were there because Danny was going to be there with Rose Byrne to chat about the film after we had seen it but we actually sat around waiting because they told us it would only take about 10 minutes to fix.

Let me start over.

We rocked up, excited and found our not so exciting seats over to the side of the cinema because the screening was almost sold out (not bad seeing as the seats were at premium prices). The film rolled and it was pretty solid. Tense and talky but in a good way. Spaceship, space, scientists and a bomb with which they are going to reignite the sun. Nice concept, apparently well researched. Distress call... oh, dear... you know what happens next. Well, you know about as much as we do about what happens next.

We were just getting to the good bit when we hit this really crazy dream sequence. The screen flipped upside down, the voices warped into incoherence and all the actors began moving jaggedly backwards. Hell, it's Danny Boyle, he does shit like this sometimes. It went on a little too long. Far to long...

The audience started to jitter. Then chatter. Then shuffle. People started walking out. Groaning.

The lights went up.

-Sorry, there's been a problem. Really?

Oh, japes and games, what a lark!

-We'll have it up in about 10 minutes.

An hour later...

-We've fixed the problem.

Roll film. Hmm, something isn't right. We seemed to have jumped forward in time. The crowd starts to shout. Clapping. Catcalling.

The lights went up again.

-Sorry we have to cancel. Here's Mr Boyle.

So we sat through the Q+A with Danny even though we hadn't seen the film. He is obviously pleased with it and kept enthusing about things we hadn't seen.

He had a lot to say about the studio system and working outside of it. He talked about the missfire that was A Life Less Ordinary and the sequel to Trainspotting. He talked about science and god and creation but much of what he said fell flat because the corpse of the screening was still decomposing in the corner.

It was a pity what happened but the night was still somewhat enjoyable. I really want to see the film in its entirety now. I suppose I have to wait for the general release. At least they are giving us a free ticket.

Moroccan Soup Bar

2007-03-13T08:02:00.003+11:00

Have you heard of that mystical Melbourne institution The Moroccan Soup Bar? The spoken menu, the unlicencedness, the vegetarian goodness?

So had I.

But I'd never tried it... until now.

And it was worth the wait.

We booked it for Andrew Ballem's going away dinner. Actually, it didn't have all that much to do with me, it was actually Andrew and Cormack who'd decided to organise it. And organise it they did (in their haphazard way).

The place is always booked to the brim. The tressel tables were crammed with people who, judging by their rosy complexions, were obviously were only tourists in the world of vegetarianism, just like us (well, most of us anyway, the guest of honour was a vegetarian but we forgive him).

And what a tour it was. The owner comes out and forces you into buying a banquet, which consists of lots of food for not very much money. She brings mint tea for (almost) everyone and then you nosh down on some bread, dips and things that once were crudités but are now pickled into something not so crudité.

The main dishes were fantastic. The most recognisably Moroccan one was the vegetable tagine with cous cous. The rest were a sublime lucky dip. The potatoes with soured yogurt were spicylicious as was the eggplant. But the dish on everyone's lips was a mystery wrapped in an enigma. It tasted to me like toasted garlic buttered pita broken up into yogurt and mixed with chick peas and toasted nuts but Cormack was convinced there was a butterscotch flavour. Whatever it was, it was certainly moorish (sorry, couldn't resist).

Coffee and deserts followed but everyone was pretty full so we paid up, tipped the conveniently jingly change into the conveniently placed tipping urn and headed off to Deco for a bottle or three of wine.

4 and a half yums out of 5.

Bush Whacking

2007-03-13T08:02:00.002+11:00

Sunday, Andrew and I hit the Volvo and drove out to the Dandenongs.

We walked through the lush forests and wondered at the beauty of nature. Awww.

Actually, it was quite stunning. The gum trees just seem to launch into the sky and they drip strips of bark all over the foliage, which leaves the forest looking something like nature's take on Miss Haversham's dining room.

It is a pity that you can never really get out of earshot of a major road but then, being on the edge of Melbourne proper, one can't really complain.

Photos will come soon. They are all trapped in Andrew's camera.

Yarra Valley Jaunt

2007-03-13T08:02:00.001+11:00

After much searching for accommodation, even resorting to campsites, Andrew and I succumbed to the group mentality and put our trip down to the Prom on hold for a while. Instead we got on a mini-bus with Richard (not my housemate, the tour guide, who had a penchant for hens) and headed off to the Yarra Valley to hit the wineries.

It was a blast. 5 Irish, 1 Geordie and 2 Aussies. Luckily, the mini-bus had a shamrock plastered on it (and it was powered by leprechauns) so we couldn't get lost.

We spent the day tasting wine, looking at art and dodging hen parties. It was tiring but we got some good wine out of it.

That's all... Photos to come later.

Gwoemul (or, The Host... but I think Gwoemul sounds better!)

2007-03-13T08:00:00.000+11:00

"On par with Jaws!" was the only review that I needed to get me interested in The Host. It came from über-geek Harry Knowles, whose Ain't It Cool New was a much frequented site in my early days, when I was just learning to stand on my net-board.

It isn't on par with Jaws, not by a long shot. But then, I am not 5 years old anymore.

It is a fucking good film though. There is not much too it. Dropout family of misfits happen to be around when a great big monster thing goes about attacking innocent Koreans with reckless abandon. That is the best thing about the film too. It is reckless by Hollywood standards. No character is sacred. You really don't know who is going to buy it and when. In the beginning you are quite comfortable in you genre movie, sitting smuggly in your seat knowing who is safe because they are getting an extended introduction... but no, don't kid yourself. The Host doesn't give a flying fuck about genre.

In fact, it flagrantly flaunts its lack of adherence to the rules. One minute it is a moving family drama, the next a mindless comedy, then suddenly it will cough up a vomit inducing moment. The rules aren't broken, to break them would mean some acknowledgement of them, here they are completely disregarded. It works for the most part. You have to be ready to roll with the sudden turns but if you buy into the lack of logic you'll have a ball.

The CG is decent and doesn't detract from the scares. And there are a good many scares. Not all of them are loud, noisy, shocky scares either, there is a lot of eerie mood work too. (Who knew it rained so much in Seoul - maybe JP). I have discovered a new meter for the scare ratio of a film: Andrew. He starts vertical and the more scares there are the more horizontal he slides into his seat. Buy one today!

I recommend you take off your thinking hat. Lose your preconceptions and get thee to a cinema. You shouldn't have a problem finding it. They are giving it a pretty wide release. I think it is the first subtitled film I have ever seen at Hoyts.

Video Response - The Wicker Man

2007-03-12T13:24:00.000+11:00

Richard just posted a bit of a slate against Neil La Bute's rehash of The Wicker Man

I'd like to supply some supporting evidence:

Get the point? Hmmm...

You don't need a man...

2007-03-09T12:23:00.000+11:00

It appears I am not the only guy in Melbs at the moment with too much time on his hands.

Tristan, Jimbo and J2 spent the other night with some bath towels, a video camera and a Pussycat Dolls CD.

The result... not suitable to impressionable youngsters, be warned!

Ah, Trist, it's good to have you back.

Bread vs. Bag

2007-03-08T15:10:00.000+11:00

Being breadless at home today, I decided to pop out for my first extremely local take-away lunch.

I live within spitting distance of Smith St but even that seemed too far away, so I checked out Roundhouse Roti. It looked appealing and it is only about thirty paces from my doorstep.

After my experience at Quashie's last year, I was really looking forward to noshing down on some roti. The bread here is all made fresh behind a shield of shatterproof glass.

I ordered a roti chanai to take away and settled in to watch the dough throwing. Seeing food prepared in front of you is always a treat. It gets the tastebuds excited.

They handed me my takeaway in a big brown bag. One of those thick, sturdy brown paper bags that you used to get in grocery stores before they discovered that every household in the western world had an undedicated drawer/cupboard that could used to store to plastic ones.

Unfortunately the bag was more satisfying than the food. The bread was fresh but rather tasteless. It didn't help that the curry was runny and a little bland.

Look, I don't want to rubbish the place. I am going to go back there and check out the dhal and the other dishes. I'll get back to you on that.

MQFF

2007-03-07T10:49:00.000+11:00

The Melbourne Queer Film Festival always seeks to balance the crowd, pleasing “bums on seats” popcorners with some more challenging fare. But if you’re not feeling too adventurous, there are a few films to test the waters of the not-quite-so-shallow end.

I've started with Tan Lines / Far From Sunset Boulevard / Boy Culture over at The Program but there are more to come...

Tix are on sale now!

Technology, Entertainment, Design, Two Thousand and Seven

2007-03-07T10:34:00.000+11:00

TED 2007 kicks off tomorrow.

We've spoken of TED before... You should know what I am talking about.

Bright minds and visionaries gathered in one room talking about how to make the world a better place.

You can see who they've gathered together this year by clicking on the schedule above.

Hopefully, some of these amazing speakers will end up on the TEDtalks podcasts. Fingers crossed.

Get dreaming.

Full Moon Party

2007-03-07T10:16:00.000+11:00

Okay, so the news is I turned 32.

It happened a few days ago. I am still coming down from the whole affair. (Or perhaps coming up is a better term.)

It was a day of weirdity. Silly arguments. No shows. Extravagance.

That is not to say it wasn't fun. Just odd. Must have been the moon.

The Last King Of Scotland (or, Idi up, Forest)

2007-03-02T18:24:00.000+11:00

Anyone who has the audacity to grant himself the title "His Excellency President for Life, Field Marshal Al Hadji Doctor Idi Amin, VC, DSO, MC, Lord of All the Beasts of the Earth and Fishes of the Sea, and Conqueror of the British Empire in Africa in General and Uganda in Particular" has got to be a brilliant subject for a film. Anyone who manages to wipe out 300,000 people while in power has got to be a brilliant subject for quite a moving film.

The Last King Of Scotland takes on one of the most brutal dictatorships of post-colonial Africa. We are spared most of the gory details (and they were gory) because the story is told through the eyes of a fictional young Scottish doctor, Nicholas Gagarrin. Gagarrin comes to Uganda in an effort to escape his overbearing father (and of course to do some good, as any young medical graduate would). He is only in the country long enough to almost seduce another doctor's wife (played by Gillian Anderson, who is in danger of resurrecting her career if she keeps up these brilliant performances) before he is, in turn, seduced Amin and is asked to take on the role of his personal physician.

Gagarrin is drawn into the high life as Amin's most trusted advisor and it is not until he is in far too deep that he realises Uganda is not the shining light of new Africa that it seemed. Silly boy. To his credit, McAvoy manages to give Gagarrin enough wide eyed optimism to stop him seeming like a completely blinkered rich boy shit. He is still a shit, but he is a likeable shit. And standing there next to him is Forest's Amin. He is a mass murdering demagogue but he is a likeable mass murdering demagogue. Scarily likeable. It is easy to see why Gagarrin falls under his spell, all sweat and smiles.

After the initial set up the film seems to loose a bit of its surehandedness but the final some horrific scenes are gut-wrenchingly tense enough to make up for the lull.

Well worth a visit.

OMFG!!!

2007-03-02T13:13:00.000+11:00

Man takes Bowie film title literally.

Click here to see it!

Click here to read about it!

(via Boing Boing)

The Ubiquitous Samuel L. Jackson James McAvoy

2007-02-28T20:28:00.000+11:00

It is rare that I go ga-ga over an actor. And I am not going ga-ga now. Well maybe a little. It is just kind of nice that Shameless' James McAvoy is hitting it big.

He's everywhere at the moment. First Mr Tumnus, then the last king of Scotland. He has three movies coming out in the next few months, one in post production and another kicking off.

I am starting to think you can't get a film greenlit unless James is in it.

Wouldn't that be nice.

Anyway, here is a snippet of why he is so great. Some bravura acting from Channel 4's Shameless. This has to be one of the most heart-wrenching scenes on television in the last few years. (And how far downhill did Shameless go when he left?)

Okay, so you want to see more. Check out these new flicks with Jimmy. There's one about a pig girl, one about an Essex lad and one about some English broad who wrote shit.

Click on the pretty pics to be whisked away so you can stare at James.

Dark Days (or, Better Homes and Railways)

2007-02-28T08:52:00.000+11:00

Last night we returned to the rooftop cinema (this time dressed in thermals) to see Marc Singer's absorbing documentary about homeless New Yorkers living in the city's subway system, Dark Days.

Dark Days is one of those Sundance success stories: untrained filmaker, good idea, many favours and an solid end product. Like the Blair Witch Project before it, Dark Days succeeds because of the tenacity and care of its maker.

Shot in black and white on 16mm, the film traces the lives of a handful of homeless people who have decided to set up lives under New York City to escape from the dangers above ground. And when I say set up lives, I mean set up lives. These guys have televisions, stovetops, beds, couches and pets. They even have surprisingly durable abodes. And they take care of their homes, painting them, cleaning them. It is quite a bizarre spectacle. Early in the film one of the young guys says, "I don't consider myself homeless, this is my home." And it is entirely conceivable that he could feel that way.

Like any doco of this sort, the subjects need to be engaging, and this underground crew does engaging by the binload. There are as many laugh out load moments as there are cringe-worthy ones. These guys are born performers and street philosophers, add crack into the mix and things just get crazy.

It could be said that Singer has chosen to skim over some of the more unsanitary problems inherent in homelessness, or that he has not filmed the less palatable inhabitants of the subway system but in doing so he has been able to bring an important issue to the public in a purposeful and engaging manner.

Well worth a look.

Perfume (or, Too Tired to Write...)

2007-02-25T23:11:00.000+11:00

I am going to make this brief because I am very tired (for reasons that will become apparent). Perfume isn't bad. Tom "Run, Lola, Run" Tykwer's film has divided critics pretty effectively but I though it was reasonably inoffensive. A surprisingly comfortable film given the subject matter. It's the time honoured story of young boy born with a miraculously acute sense of smell works, who his way into the perfume business only to get a little too obsessed with capturing the scents of young girly girls. How many times have we heard that before. Actually, it was pretty much the same story as Peter Süskind' s novel, which was also called Perfume.

I actually liked the film a good deal more than the book. I never really went much on Süskind's flowery prose ("oh, it's oh, so evocative!) and Twykner captures the smells, especially early on in the film, with a deftness that made the phenomenon just that little bit more visceral. What I liked about the book was well captured, the high concept and the fable like retelling, the interesting characters and the meticulous insight into the world of perfumery. Ultimately though, I thought the film, like the book, took it all a little too far, go just a little to far into the mythology and overstepped even my ability to suspend belief.

On that topic, the orgy scene (oh, wait a moment - spoilers!!!) was a little to hetero-normative for my liking. Sure there was some hot lesbian action but guys like to watch a bit of that, so I am not surprised it was included. I was surprised that in this day and age there wasn't any man-on-man action. Not that it really mattered in the end. The whole scene was about as sexy as a Spenser Tunnick photo shoot and, in my opinion, undermined the films credibility. I thought - piffle!

Don't worry though, you don't have to sit all the way to the end for the less than perfect moments. Dustin Hoffman is pretty atrocious. He makes a good fist of the role but doesn't seem to know quite what he is doing with his accent. Alan Rickman comes off like a bit of a caricature but that is probably due to the fact that most of his role is subsumed in an all-encompassing (and quite unnecessary) montage.

On the upside, the visuals are spectacular, the main actor is fantastic, as are many of the ill-fated girls. There are some sumptuous visuals and some truly creepy moments.

Even if it doesn't all gel, there is a lot to recommend Perfume so check it out.

6 Nations Rugby - Ireland v. England @ Croke Park

2007-02-25T11:52:00.000+11:00

We got up at 4am this morning.

We got on our bikes.

We rode into the city.

We were refused entry to the Celtic Club, which was already brimming with drunk Irishmen.

We rode to Pugg Mahones.

We got a nice seat in front of a moderately sized flat screen television to watch Ireland demolish England in the 6 Nations rugby tournament. Then again, it was time for some payback.

Fun times. Brought back memories of all those World Cup matches in London - the enthusiastic crowds and lacklustre English sporting performances.

It was also interesting to watch the punters walk up the stairs, having not been out all night ourselves. SBL Jesus, people look atrocious when they are smashed. Their faces sink and they have this deadened look in their eyes.

Between watching increasingly drunk drunkards sway up the stairs, pestering Andrew for the rules of the game, and watching the two blondes who were sitting next to us in their very loud efforts to get laid, there was actually some match watching to be done.

I spent most of my time watching Ronan O'Gara (pictured above). To be fair, he was on-screen quite a bit seeing as he had the job of kicking the conversions, and there were quite a few. The game ended on a score of 43-13.

You can check out the full match report here, if you are at all interested.

Ireland is in with a chance to take out the title, should France lose a game. Up next are Scotland and that pre-eminent Rugby nation, Italy.

I HEART George Takei

2007-02-23T10:55:00.000+11:00

You may or may not have been following the furore that has blown up around U.S. basketballer Tim Hardaway's homophobic comments last week. The responses from all corners of the community have been immensely encouraging in their exposure of the new shift in what is acceptable behaviour, well, acceptable behaviour in front of the public eye, at the very least.

This response is certainly one of the most comical.

I love the way Dr Sulu manages to flavour his PSA with every homophobic straight boy's worst nightmare (or, more likely than not, biggest fantasy).

via iChatGay

Registered Online AND In Print...

2007-02-22T09:59:00.000+11:00

Hey y'all. Just a quick one to let you know that I am back in print. I went in to help take some of the pressure off Richard as he settles into his new digs as Editor of MCV.

I knocked up a few news stories, which appear in this week's issue.

One of them has also popped up online.

The City of Melbourne's Relationships Declaration Register, which will enable both mixed-sex and same-sex couples to formally declare their relationships, will be officially established by April 2, it was announced last week...

You can read the rest here

Gig: Snow Patrol @ Festival Hall 20/02/07

2007-02-21T12:07:00.000+11:00

After a string of sweltering days Melbourne had decided to cool down a bit, as is the way with things here. It is a pity nobody told Festival Hall. If the Palais was steaming hot, Festival Hall was a veritable oven. Not that it really mattered. It could have been worse. We could have had the flu, just like every member Snow Patrol.

I don't know if it was the flu or the sound desk but the guys the first three tracks they played were terribly loose and rather uninspiring. Thankfully (and to prove there is some kind of literary providence out there) they really hit their stride about halfway through 'Run'.

After four tracks off their previous album, I was beginning to wonder if Snow Patrol had even released Eyes Open. Gary had nattered with the crowd about Melbourne's heat for a while, he piped up with something like, "Here's a song you might know, I don't remember the name of it or what it is about." which was pretty much his introduction for every song for the rest of the night. Then he kicked off with tracks off their new album. The change in quality was instantaneous. It was almost as if they had forgotten how to play their older stuff.

Not that most members in the crowd really minded. It seemed that most people had come along for the new stuff and when the boys kicked off with ~~The Theme From Grey's Anatomy~~ 'Chasing Cars' it was obvious that there was a stand out number in the collective consciousness of the audience.

From then on it didn't even matter that Gary wasn't able to hit many of the high notes due to the pesky flu, they rocked anyway. Melbournian Laura Jean pressed herself into Martha Wainwright's shoes and joined the band on stage for 'Set Fire To The Third Bar'. She did a brilliant job, so brilliant a job that I am going to link you to her *cough* myspace *cough* page here.

By the time the band left the stage, they hadn't really left much to perform for an encore. They returned with 'The Finish Line' (I think, I can't recall at the moment and I can't find the fucking setlist again - fans just aren't as fanatical as they used to be), which finished with a few nods of the head and the acknowledgement that they were going to plough into 'Hands Open' despite the danger to Gary's voice. I'm glad they did because it was easily the best song of the gig.

As much as I loved the gig, it was an absolute blessing to step outside into the cool air. A fantastic night. I was a bit miffed that they didn't play anything from When It's All Over We Still Have To Clear Up but they seem to have left their pre-Final Straw days behind them.

Gig: Damien Rice @ The Palais 19/02/07

2007-02-21T11:59:00.000+11:00

A gig at the Palais is a rare treat. Okay, so it is not so rare, but it is rare that I end up going to one. It is a grand venue; cavernous, but in a luxurious kind of way. It takes a special artist to fill the space and I was quite concerned that a little Irishman from Dublin with a penchant for quiet folk-rock would be swallowed whole. He was anything but.

We arrived just about in time to miss the whole of the support act, a little Irishman from Dublin with a penchant for folk-rock, who was being unceremoniously swallowed. The theatre was like a giant sweat box and and the vinyl seats weren't helping the situation. Luckily we had a walkway at our feet so there was stretching room aplenty.

The stage was pretty barren. A piano and a keyboard, some scattered guitars and a chair or two. The whole scene was backed by a giant white screen. When the lights dropped and a scruffy little man walked out it could have been easy to mistake him for a roadie. He did nothing to dispel this when he stood with his back to the audience and started tuning one of the guitars. The tuning gave way to a song, an idling tune, which he seemed to be playing until he felt ready to turn around.

But he didn't.

With his back to the audience he crouched over as the idling tune grew into a fully fledged opening song. Huddled over, caressing his guitar, he began singing into the hollow, his voice echoed in the box and flooded the auditorium. It was truly haunting. Here was this man hunched over his instrument, seemingly retracting from the world and he was able to hold a sell-out crowd enthralled. When he finally turned and stood and took his place centre stage the crowd erupted. It was a brilliant opening and it segued beautifully into one of his most treasured numbers, 'Volcano', as his band joined him on stage.

There were clear cheers of relief when the crowd acknowledged Lisa Hannigan, Rice's recording partner to the stage. She cut an interesting figure as she sang, her neck stretched, her hands gnarled, but it only seemed to heighten the breathless beauty of her voice.

It was clearly evident that this crowd was in for a good night and that Damien and his crew were not only assured musicians but also willing to have fun and experiment with their music. 'Amie' crescendoed into a roaring feedback loop, which threatened to drop plaster from the Palais' walls only to calm down into a quiet coda of Damien's voice which formed the backing for his next track. Mesmerising.

It was one of those gig where the setlist covered pretty much all the recorded material. Damien's explanations of the stories behind the songs often ventured into the macabre, though there was always a wry smile on his face and despite the sombre mood of the music there was much jesting on stage. The impromptu rendition of 'Blue Moon', which cellist Vyvienne Long broke into when Lisa broke her sound feed, was a delightful treat, as was 'Random Man On The Motorway', which she treated the audience to during one of the breaks.

The middle of the show lulled a little. There was a good deal of interaction with the audience and some listless calls for songs to play but there was always an answer at the ready and Damien's response was never less than superb.

For the closing number Damien was left alone onstage. He wrenched the cords and cables from his guitar and kicked them from his feet. He moved to the front of the stage, out of reach of the microphone and stood in the light of a single follow spot. Everything else went black as he once again took on the crowd single-handedly, without any sonic protection, and sang his biggest hit, 'The Blower's Daughter' to the adulating crowd. It was quite transcendental (or it would have been if it weren't for the fucking cameraphones).

Oh, I shouldn't complain because if it weren't for cameraphones I couldn't show you this:

I haven't been able to find a setlist for this one either but I'll post it here if one pops up.

*UPDATE* Setlist:

‘Never Been In This Place Before’
Volcano
Amie
9 Crimes
Coconut Skins
Dogs
Rootless Tree
Random Man on the Motorway (Vyvienne)
Cannonball
Cold Water
Hallelujah
The Professor
I Remember

Rainy Night House (Lisa unaccompanied covering Joni Mitchell)
Delicate
[Blue Moon]
The Animals Were Gone
Blower’s Daughter

Thanks to realityescapeartist for the pic

Orlando (or, Prêt-à-Porter - The Early Years)

2007-02-16T16:09:00.000+11:00

Even though I have a bucketload of dvds of my own that I haven't, as of yet, watched, I decided to dive into one of my favourite films, which I found on Richard's shelf, Sally Potter's breakthrough, Orlando.

The British, they just don't seem to make films like this anymore. These manicured, composed, intricate films used to be the backbone of the British film industry (Peter Greenaway, anyone?) and now they are sorely missed, by me anyway. Oh well, Guy Ritchie happens.

I love the esoteric quality of Potter's adaptation; I love its symmetry; I love its archness.

Observe:

Shelmerdine: You are hurt, ma'am?
Orlando: I am dead, sir.
Shelmerdine: Dead? That is serious, can I help?
Orlando: Will you marry me?
Shelmerdine: Ma'am, I would gladly but I fear my ankle is twisted.

The cast is almost as beautiful as the mise-en-scéne: Tilda Swinton's black eyes are haunting and used to brilliant effect with the numerous, third wall breaking glances at the audience; Billy Zane has a smile that could melt celluloid; and that is to mention nothing of the casting coups of Quentin Crisp and Jimmy Somerville.

And costumes, costumes, costumes. A visual feast. You could just as easily watch Orlando with the sound turned off if the dialogue weren't so intriguing. Four hundred years of wigs and frocks, male and female.

Here I am waxing lyrical about all the pretty stuff in the film and I haven't said a word about its delightfully heavy-handed themes. Every word, every glance, every pose seems draped in meaning. It is my favourite affectation of cinema of this ilk - it is all SO meaningful that it almost hurts. Then, with a film that follows the story of a man who inexplicably becomes a woman and covers a period of 400 years, has to hold some thematic clout.

Actually, scratch that. Imagine the same pitch with the words "starring Rob Schneider" tacked to the end.

Rageboy (or, Rage against the latrine)

2007-02-16T15:34:00.000+11:00

Okay, this one's a little late. I think I caught Rageboy sometime last week as part of Melbourne's Midsumma festival; I have forgotten - much like the play.

Big cast; polished production; meandering, meaningless script.

Toby is apparently enraged at life. Struck with polio at an early age, agitated by his father, annoyed by his best friend (oh, hang on that was me being annoyed by her atrocious American accent), cracked onto by his institutionalised grandfather, Toby has a lot to be enraged about. But he doesn't seem to be that bothered. There is something thrown in about the apocalypse by the two (slightly incestuous) JW siblings but it all ends up being rather meaningless.

It is difficult to say that Rageboy was appalling because it is clear that it was extremely well received by the opening night audience. It is true that the show, which began life as a Melbourne Uni production, is very funny in parts. Yes it has a kind of absurdist charm but it was so incredibly episodic that by in the end it felt like a dose of The Comedy Company or Skithouse and was just as hit and miss.

Props to the few characters who managed to imbue their roles with some real, and much needed, charm. The father's blind albino girlfriend deserves special mention. Overall though, apart from the few funny scenes, an extremely disappointing evening.

Run a mile (or at least you should have, it is all over now. Thank SBLJ!)

When in Melbourne...

2007-02-16T11:21:00.000+11:00

We spent V-Day down at the Sidney Myer Music Bowl listening to some Russian composers doing their thing symphonic/piano concertoey thing. The place was packed, the weather was nice and the company was suitably impressed.

Melbourne Gains A Pretty Fruit Basket

2007-02-13T14:52:00.000+11:00

I have to say, the most interesting thing I've ever seen on the corner of Chapel and Toorak was a three storey high billboard of a gorgeous Country Road model. Apparently, according to Andrew (not that Andrew, the other one, the one that is going overseas again soon, yeah that one) I never saw The Fun Factory in its heyday.

And I never will. It is being demolished to make way for this rhapsody in medal and glass:

Excited? I am. Apple Stores, which are actually owned by Apple, are few and far between and tend to take in a whole range of functions above and beyond the two-bit resellers that we are accustomed to. They are real crowd pleasers too.

AppleInsider has the whole story and some more pretty pics for you to gawk at.

Now, if only they can find some way of including a three storey high model into the design.

I know, I know...

2007-02-13T08:53:00.000+11:00

It's been a long time between drinks.

With moving house and getting my stuff organised and trying to sort out a connection to the Interweb, I haven't been posting much, or at all. Now I am getting text messages from friends demanding I get back to it.

I'll see if I can remedy the situation situation situation this evening.

My Bed

2007-02-05T22:11:00.000+11:00

I'm wrecked.

I've just spent the day moving and rearranging my stuff into some semblance of a bedroom. I think I'm almost there.

I have my own space now, sharing with good friend and fellow blogger, Richard.

Can't blog any more. Tired and Richard is waiting to use my laptop to watch Heroes. I'll tell you all about it later.

Later.

Don't you feel like crying?

2007-02-03T16:33:00.000+11:00

Love Melbourne but we'll never get a line-up like this. Some of my all time big names on my "I wish I could see them live" list - Björk, Manu Chao, David Guetta, along with some of my all time favourite performers - The Decemberists, Placebo, Interpol.

One day, it will happen, one day...

Gig: The Killers Andrew's Birthday @ Festival Hall 01/02/07

2007-02-02T10:53:00.000+11:00

First Shamil turns 33, now Andrew turns 25; I am starting to see a pattern here.

If we thought the gods were smiling on us on Monday night, last night they were positively beaming at us. Somehow, despite it being fully booked until next Tuesday, we managed to score a table at Movida. Best restaurant in Melbourne. Well, my favourite anyway. The costillas con sobrasada are to die for and certainly a good primer for the night's entertainment.

The Killers rocked. The sound was shit, the seats were shit but it didn't matter. The Killers rocked!

And Brandon Flowers is SO gay. (And not in that school yard way.)

I was a little worried in the beginning when they opened with a song that only the people in the mosh pit seemed to know (and I think they were just pretending so they looked like they were cooler than the rest of us), then they chimed up with "We Hope You Enjoyed The Show". By the second line I was getting ready to push back into my seat and settle in for a night of disappointment but they didn't finish the song, it was simply a lead into "When You Were Young", which in turn pushed into "Somebody Told Me".

As soon as they kicked off, Festival Hall stood up and didn't sit for the rest of the gig. The crowd were instantly on side. Fuck, Brandon Flowers (SO gay) didn't have to sing for the whole gig - the crowd did it for him. By the time they got around to "Mr Brightside" someone could have recorded a live album from the other side of the Westgate.

I'd like to develop an algorithm to ascertain the success of a live performance. I am convinced it has something to do with the spread of the mosh, the angle and number of rock hands, the persistence of the clap and the volume of crowd singing. However the formula works out, last night's gig was a success despite the fact that we were sitting in the focal point of Festival Hall's plentiful echoes.

I'm trying to hunt down a setlist for y'all but it is proving difficult. It was a good set though. I would have liked to have heard "Midnight Show" but we all need something to grumble about.

*UPDATE* Setlist:

Sam's Town
Interlude
When You Were Young
Somebody Told Me
Smile Like You Mean It
Bones
Bling (Confession Of A King)
Read My Mind
Jenny Was A Friend Of Mine
This River Is Wild
Why Do I Keep Counting
Mr Brightside

My List
For Reasons Unknown
All These Things That I've Done
Exitude

Gig: Muse @ Festival Hall 31/01/07

2007-02-01T08:01:00.000+11:00

Last night took a very unexpected turn from the ridiculous to the sublime.

We rocked up to Templebar on Smith Street to enjoy an evening of "Spag and Drag" with Neale, Andrew, Zoë and the Bens and before we'd even ordered Bens mentioned they had to leave early to reach Festival Hall in time to catch Muse.

"You lucky bastards, I really wanted to see them tonight!"
"Oh, we've got two free tickets, if you want them..."

So in the time it took to blow off our other friends and sit through an amusing rendition of "The Girl With Emphysema", we were sitting centre-stage watching Supermassive Black Hole.

How's that for a nice turn-around.

Muse absolutely rocked. The rocked so hard they were almost a parody of themselves. But that is why I love them so. At one stage I looked down and thought - all this kick arse sound is coming from those three unassuming Brits and their insignificant little instruments. Thank SBLJ for electricity!

The boys were flanked by two huge LED screens and spotted by scores of scores of cameras that threw their images up, all psychedelically altered. The lighting and stage setup was phenomenal. Every glittery piano note was mirrored by a pretty light flash.

Lots of glittery piano notes = lots of pretty light flashes!

And the crowd ate it all up. Being in seats we were a little removed from the action but it was interesting to see the spread of the mosh pit and the waving sea of rock hands.

To add to the spectacle, at the first break, as Plug-in Baby screamed to a halt, massive, clear rubber, confetti-filled balls were released into the auditorium. Nice touch (until the lighters came out).

Revved up on their fit of destruction, the crowd set about clapping to Starlight. One of those brilliant "we're all in this together moments".

Clap - clap clap - clap - clap clap clap!

Priceless.

Setlist:

Take A Bow
Hysteria
Supermassive Black Hole
Butterflies And Hurricanes
Map Of The Problematique
City Of Delusion
Citizen Erased
Sunburn!!
Apocalypse Please
Invincible
Time Is Running Out
Plug In Baby
(Release crowd balls here)

Soldier's Poem
Starlight
Stockholm Syndrome

Knights Of Cydonia

The Killers tomorrow night.

Same bat-place. Same bat-time. Shittier bat-seats.

Wonderland (or, Where The Depressing Things Are)

2007-01-31T09:55:00.000+11:00

Blah, blah, blah... Y'all should know by now that I love Michael Winterbottom. Well, Wonderland is the film that started that love affair. I was killing time over at Andrew's place the other morning while I waited for Zöe to tear herself away from her gaydar profile, so I decided to put it on. (It was there because I'd lent it to one of Andrew's friends.)

When I first saw Wonderland, I was a lovesick, lonely, introverted people watcher. It is no wonder that I fell in love with the film. Wonderland is about a family of lovesick, lonely, Londoners, who spend their time wandering around on Guy Faulks weekend going about their typical Londonesque existence. That is pretty much it. It is pretty boring really. It is just that it is so perfectly observed.

Back then I identified with the characters, now I identify with the city. Wonderland is London. It exudes London through every frame. It is depressing as all fuck. It is monotonous. It is hard.

But then there are the little snippets of life. The affirming moments (helped in no small part by Michael Nyman's musical eloquence) that create the soul of the city.

By the end of the film, Andrew, who was planning on going back to London (not that Andrew, the other Andrew, the Andrew Andrew lives with) had all but decided to stick here in Melbourne. (Of course he didn't in the end.) That is how London it is.

While it didn't strike as deep a chord this time around, let's face it, the orchestra has had a reshuffle. I'd still thoroughly recommend it. A beautifully crafted piece of cinema but not one for those who are easily distracted.

Car Maintenance, eXplosives and Love @ Gasworks Theatre

2007-01-30T19:18:00.000+11:00

Okay, I'm being published again. I'm chucking some reviews the way of The Program, an Australian arts portal focused on repackageing the arts media for the youth market.

My first review went up today. You can check it out by clicking on the text below...

"From the opening, angle-grinding moments of Car Maintenance, eXplosives and Love it is clear that there are going to be more than just sparks flying in this very one-woman show."

Hey, it's a start.

Fidel's Cigar-tainted Karaoke

2007-01-30T12:08:00.000+11:00

Shamil is no longer 32.

We no longer have any shame.

Three observations:-

i) Never believe Andrew when he says he won't sing - you will have to pry the microphone from his bleeding fingers;

ii) Never let Shamil talk about the wait-staff with a microphone in his hand;

iii) Never sing a song that consists almost wholly of Fred Flintstone's catch cry.

The night was an absolute blast. I couldn't speak the next day, though I, along with everyone else, blame that on the very quiet microphones.

Hmmm.

Thanks again to karaoke-wallah for the impressive frivolities.

No Answer

2007-01-30T10:31:00.000+11:00

You know the drill by now. I end up staying the whole weekend away from my computer and leave you postless. Poor things!

I am still at it, doing the tourist guide thing with one of Andrew's travel buddies from FNQ.

Here is a happy snap to tired you over. It is one of the artworks commissioned by the city to grace one of Melbourne's treasured laneways. It comes installed with six speakers to beep and blip and make telephonously ringy sounds.

Happy Ozlandia Day

2007-01-27T12:34:00.000+11:00

I love Australia Day.

Not because we get to wave flags and feel proud of our achievememts.

I love Australia Day because we can go down to Edinburgh Gardens and sit in the park and throw frisbees and eat barbecued food and drink wine and throw gum boots and play croquet and talk with friends and listen to the Hottest 100 and dance barefoot.

And everyone else it out doing the same thing.

I don't love Australia Day because some of my friends who don't look "Australian" have been told all their lives to be especially careful on the 26th of January because their parents used to receive death threats every year.

And I don't like that our illustrious leader doesn't think Australia is like that.

Dreamgirls (or, I see some drag acts coming...)

2007-01-24T22:33:00.000+11:00

Bill Condon (I bet he got ribbed at school - okay, that was uncalled for) has done it again; he has taken a successful stage musical and turned it into a successful movie musical. Hoorah. Sorta.

If Dreamgirls isn't as successful as Chicago before it much of the fault lies with the musical itself. Yes, some of the performances could have been toned down just a touch - Jennifer Hudson belting out her torchsong at the end of what I suppose would have been the first act borders on laughable as she hoofs around the stage hysterically screaming to herself - but on the whole the film has the right look and feel. It is just lacking a decent score.

The whole scenario is pretty much lifted (inspired by?) the rise of Motown Records and Diana Ross and the Supremes (with bonus adulating Michael Jackson). It is a tale of business, fame and betrayal, in that order. The performances are uniformly excellent (excepting a few OTT blips) especially Hudson and Eddie Murphy, who should win the Best Supporting Actor nod just for that look - see the film, you'll know which look I am talking about, it is a harrowing moment. It is just a pity that the source material couldn't keep up.

With Chicago or even Hal Prince's Cabaret before it, there was a clever choice to remove or adapt many of the "non-performance" numbers. Chicago found us drifting into Zelleweger's fantasy world and allowed us to cleveryly sidestep the "excuse me, I'm excited/distressed/reflective, I think I may spontaneously break into song" moments. Don't get me wrong, I love those moments when they are done well but to do them well the switch from speech to song needs to be clean (think Dancer In The Dark) and the song needs to be worthy (think, dare I say it, Evita). Unfortunately, Dreamgirls was often lacking on both counts and much of this was down to the original show.

Here we have a musical, which has actual performances within it. The songs that are "performed" need to be structured differently to the the more recitative-based numbers and less obviously related to the narrative of the book. Instead we get Beyoncé singing to Foxx that she is going to assert herself and we are to believe he is listening to her recording it in front of him. That has to stress the suspension of even the most hardened musicals fan's disbelief.

Growing up with musical theatre means taking a lot of shitty music and even shittier lyrics and learning to forgive the mis-steps for the sake of the whole. On stage or in a recording, that is all well and good but celluloid straps boots on these mis-steps and they echo thunderously. Dreamgirls has some truly cringe-worthy numbers that should have been cut, instead they have been cheesily orchestrated and left to batter our eardrums and offend our intelligence.

Thankfully, the lighting, cinematography, editing and art direction more than make up for these inadequacies. Dreamgirls is a, well, dream to look at. It glitters and sparkles in all the right places. Some of the scenes are jaw-dropingly gorgeous. It is glossy but still textured and nuanced.

I think I'll leave it there. On a high note. It would be easy to bitch and moan forever but in the end Dreamgirls is enjoyable, even memorable. It won't be a classic of the genre but I'd certainly recommend it for a night out.

Daredevil (or, I wish I were blind)

2007-01-22T11:37:00.001+11:00

I borrowed the dvd of Daredevil from Glen about, well, long enough back for him to forget I even have it, I'm sure. Actually, I didn't even know that I had it until I returned to Australia to find it snuggled in my tubs of dvds. I borrowed it because when I saw it in the cinema I fell asleep. When I tried to watch it on dvd, I fell asleep. I tried to watch it again and fell asleep.

I've always wanted to see it. I always fall asleep. That has to be somewhat telling.

I watched it again yesterday and found out something even more telling: I have seen Daredevil all the way through. I have seen it all the way through and it still didn't make enough of an impression on me for me to recall that I had seen it.

Why did I persevere? Jennifer Garner. (That reads, Jennifer Garner FULL STOP, by the way!)

I like comic book films and Daredevil came with such good press, pre-release. A dark comic book film. A solid comic book film. No... it was just another lightweight, watered down, connect the dots, crap comic book film.

I'll drop the dvd back to you, Glen. Post haste!

Diary: Kill Kilkenny

2007-01-22T11:32:00.001+11:00

More diary. The first half of this entry I must have written when I was insanely drunk.

Such a fucked up event. This guy not only fucked me up for a good few months but turned me off Kilkenny and Irishmen for quite a while.

4 October
Ok on to some new and more interesting topic, my love life or lack of it. His nace is Ciaren (spelt something like that) and he is the firest guy that I have met that I actually wanted to see again. Because of this I chose not to sleep with him of teh firest night, how puritian of me, Instead we just comandeered a couch in the back of connections and just went for it for about an hour an da half i think though I am not entiresly sure of the time. You must ecvuse all of the spelling mistakes nut I am writing this as I am falling asleep so I am not actually looking at the keys or what is coming out on the screen. Yeah so here we are in the seedy part of the nightclun laying down on the rid vinal couch and and oh, he had the most beautiful eyes and he wsa soooo cutem so Irish and he said I reminded him of Richard Gere, I don’t know how I should take that one but anyway. I was so enhoying al of this when I decided to go to the toilet adn he followed me in there and tryid to DRINK ME as he put it. It really freaked me out, not because of the act itself, to each his own I wuppose, but because I was looking fo r a normal guy who I could spend some time with, Anyway I moce off and ha and took time out nect to the dannce floor nut I just couldn’t leave him so i asked him to come our for a coffee and we did at some dodgy little cafe in lake street where we had a long conversation about life and love, I found him very confromting but i really liked that because usually I am on the dealing end and it ws interesting to be on the recieving end for a change. He tried again to get a ddrink out of me on Lake street but I avoided that again and he went back to his hostel, I gave him my number and left much to his dismay. I ended up dropping him a note expecting him to have lost the number and we met up again at the Brass monkey and ended up snogging in the court then he came back to don’s place and we shagged each other rotten well sort of...

4 October
It was sort of a bit more like him taking what he wanted, which included just about every fetish in the whole book from feet to arse, and any sort of bodily fluid he could get his hands on. He wanted to play out this domination fantasy, so every few minutes he had to remind me to step on his hands or hold him down and it was just a little bit too much for me, it is just not inside of me to enjoy that sort of stuff even though I said I did and in some instances it was interesting but in the morning I found myself in such a state, I went from anger to depression to frustration. By the time I got home I was nearly bursting into tears every five minutes. I was a total mess and had pretty much decided never to get in touch with Ciaren again.

I told Byron all about him and he was understandably saying, forget him. He was nice, like- he said I am so eligible and blah blah blah, which I just don’t ever really see until someone says it to me. I have really enjoyed my time down here this holiday, probably because I needed it more than usual and I am living more in a style that will probably be a part of my life in years to come. Does that sound silly? I mean I don’t know if I will ever live in a city, well no I am sure that I will, maybe after next year. But it has been good to just be a normal gay guy in the city for the first time (if normal is the word- I suppose it is as normal as it is ever going to get for me).

That was the only entry about it all but it did stay with me for a long time. I think it gave me a few insecurities that I carried with me for a good many years.

I'm over them now, I think.

I even visited Kilkenny.

And I like their beer.

And I am seeing an Irishman.

I guess that means I'm over it now.

Previous diary entries:
I Wanna Play
Confessions of an Amateur Melodramatist
Before I Sleep a.k.a. Diary Drowsiness
Goodbye 1996!!!
Back To The Bush
How Time Flies
End Of An Era
Kissy Kissy
Diary Tonic
Diary: Losing My ~~Religion~~ Virginity
Diary: May Burst
Travel Fallout
Return Of The Killer Diary
Diary Musings From The Top End
Separation Anxiety

Marching Proud

2007-01-22T11:31:00.000+11:00

Look how proud he is! That is because he's spent his afternoon watching the gayest of Melbourne's community groups marching through one of Melbourne's gayest precincts.

I jest. But it is true that the Pride March was a heart swelling event. I prefer Melbourne's march to Sydney's parade. It is less flashy, more grounded. There is a real sense of the GBLTI community thanking and praising the movers and shakers that make out community what it is. Of course there is not as much eye candy (even less this year because of the miserable weather) or music but the general warm glow more than makes up for that.

We headed down after saying farewell to Steff. The tram down Nicholson Street was already crammed full of homosexualists of both persuasions and we got to nattering about Friday night. And the rain fell. Heavily.

Luckily, by the time the parade opened with the traditional Dykes on Bykes the clouds were holding their payloads. It didn't rain on the police, or the lesbians parading their bubs for political propaganda. It didn't rain on the gay Greeks or the gay Italians. Hell, it didn't even rain on those butt-fucking koalas that were censored from the Myer Christmas windows this year.

Even though we arrived minutes before the start, there was plenty of room. Attendance was a little disappointing but it didn't hamper the good spirits. It was great to see a few friends marching and, when the parade had finished parading the crowd that followed along revealed itself to be quite sizeable.

Drinks at the POW afterwards, a supper with Shamil and a brief jaunt to see what was happening in the park and then it was all over. Pity about the weather, it would have been a lot more festive without the wind and rain but you get that.

Bring on Carnivale!

Krampack (or, Nico and Dani)

2007-01-22T11:30:00.002+11:00

This was the film we watched instead of sitting through the end of Breakfast On Pluto.

I'd seen it plenty of times before but Andrew hadn't and he's trying to improve his Spanish at the moment, which is why I bought it for myself in the first place.

I first saw Nico and Dani in Cordoba. I'd been enticed in by the poster and when the Spanish title, Krampack wasn't in my phrasebook, I looked it up on imdb.com. The details were scant but it confirmed that it was gay so I went along. No subtitles on the print. No Spanish in my brain (I'd only been there a few weeks). No understanding of what was going on at all.

In retrospect it shouldn't have been all that difficult. The story is pretty basic. Two young guys spend a week together while their parents are away. Young guys, alone, you know the drill. The complication is that there are girls on the scene as well and one of the boys is, well, confused.

Like I said, pretty basic. But that is part of the film's charm.

To keep it real, the kids in the film really are kids (though their ages were upped from the original play). They make impulsive decisions, stupid comments and have all the anxieties that we had in those days of yore.

It is a fun summer movie without the campy shallowness of many gay flicks. Check it out.

Breakfast On Pluto (or, Next...)

2007-01-22T11:30:00.001+11:00

It doesn't happen often but I couldn't sit through this Neil Jordan's latest film. Actually, I probably could have but Andrew was feeling as underwhelmed as I was so we decided to ditch it.

It all started promisingly with a couple of quirky robins commentating the action. Nice camera work and an off-kilter sensibility all said all systems go. But it didn't ever take off.

Cillian Murphy whisps his way through a series of adventures as the cross-dressing protagonist. He is an interesting, if somewhat one-dimensional, creation and his Cillian's acting is impressive but he is given nothing but inconsequential diversions to deal with: a glam rocker, a magician, a womble (yes a womble). It all becomes a bit too much.

Yes, I admit it, I hate road movies and Breakfast On Pluto has everything but the road. It is episodic, characters pop up and disappear for no reason, you know the drill. Tedious. Not even the cream of Ireland's acting talent could save it.

I'll no doubt finish it one day. For the moment though consider it, or at least the first hour and a half of it, not recommended.

Midsumma Opens

2007-01-22T11:29:00.001+11:00

Midsumma is here, though they should have changed the name this year. Not much was summery on Friday night. It was warmish but also very muggy. Not that that detracted from the night. Easily one of the most impressive openings I've been to.

Somewhere along the line they decided to jettison all of the crap acts and replace them with artistically credible performers. It was quite unsettling. There was not a rapping Bette Midler impersonator in sight. I was quite disoriented.

Not that we spent all that much time watching the acts. We were too busy watching the bottom of our plastic Becks cups.

Sam came along and she was in fine form. Somehow she managed to plant herself firmly in the centre of every one of my photos. Not that I am complaining because she is dangerously photogenic.

Before the crowds came we managed to catch the skill tester tent set up by Penny Machinations, who brought us last year's Berina of Mystery. Andrew (not that Andrew, the other Andrew) was proclaimed a level 2 psychic even though he couldn't telepathically collect the image of Margaret Pomeranz or any of the numerous penises.

By the time we were ready to move on, we were well-sauced and ready for a tram ride to the Xchange hotel, home of drag shows, go-go boys and a dancefloor of unmixed Nineties classics.

See:

It was a blast of a night and a fitting opening to what promises to be a Midsumma of fabulousness. (Did I just say that?)

Anyone For Tennis?

2007-01-22T11:28:00.000+11:00

Okay, so we went to the Australian Open tennis last week. We managed to squeeze in an evening on the outer courts between the sweltering heat and the flooding rains. Our evening was perfect.

The outer courts were a hotbed of tennis rivalry. We caught the end of a few matches involving some seeded players. Narabandian, Grosjean and Gonzales (who went on to beat Hewitt).

The one we managed to see from start to finish featured Germany's Tommy Haas and Serbia's Ilia Bozoljac. Tommy had the crowd's hearts and voices. It must have been difficult for Ilia. He put up a decent fight in the first set but then he lost his head and the match was over relatively quickly.

I'll leave you with that now. The photos are coming. At the moment they are stuck on Andrew's camera.

Let's Talk About The Weather...

2007-01-22T11:27:00.000+11:00

It's been a weird week for weather here in Melbourne. The mercury has been, well, mercurial. Tuesday saw Steff and I sweltering by the pool with half of the Melbourne Storm rugby league team and then, while the temperatures stayed up, the rain came down.

Ondine and I sheltered on the lawn inside Madame Brussels, drinking Pimms and eating toasted ham and cheese sandwiches. It was all very British. It is a great idea and the location (up three flights of stairs inside a dowdy building at the top of Bourke Street) only adds to the atmosphere.

Unfortunately, seeing as we were the only ones there and the bar staff in their tennis kits weren't enough to keep out attention, we ended up picking faults with the decor. I'll definitely be heading back there to see how it works in the evenings.

The weather held out while I caught up with Em at World Wide Wash. Great venue, great company.

So you can see that I have been biding my time waiting for this work to come in. I am getting more and more frustrated as the days go by but it gives me a good excuse to catch up with friends.

Word.

Feed Me!

2007-01-22T11:22:00.000+11:00

I was alerted to strange behaviour in my feed recently.

We worked it out. It is that I have been republishing some old posts with blogger2's label system.

This means two things:

1. You can revisit all the fun of the first year of NNM
2. I can advertise the feed again

In case you don't know, RSS feeds help you to... look I can't be bothered explaining it. There is a tutorial of sorts here.

FYI, the you can feed NNM at:
feed://noneckedmonsters.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default

Pan's Labrynth (or, El laberinto del fauno)

2007-01-19T10:16:00.000+11:00

Of the triumvirate of Mexican directors taking the world by storm at the moment Guillermo del Toro is certainly the most fantastical. He already has two comic book flicks (Hellboy and Blade II) under his belt along with some other big budget Hollywood fright-fests off the strength of his debut, Cronos. Up until now though, I would have said my favourite of his works was the Spanish gothic-horror The Devil's Backbone. Up until now.

Now I'd have to think about it.

Del Toro's new film, Pan's Labyrinth shares much with its younger brother. Both are set against a backdrop of the Spanish Civil War; both are seen through the eyes of young children in overwhelming situations; and both dip deeply into the world of grotesque, highly-stylised fantasy.

It is that same tried and true story, girl travels with her pregnant mother to remote outpost to be with her new "father" while he hunts down republican guerillas, only to discover that she is really the princess of an underground world. How many times have we heard that one before?

Don't be put off, or dismayed, but the majority of the story takes place in the "real" world. Ofelia's struggle to come to terms with her new life (both real and fantastical) is paralleled by the the struggle of the housekeeper, Mercedes to support her brother and the rebels in the surrounding hills. Maribel Verdu is excellent (yes she has managed to rip herself free from that ~~sex sandwich~~ double dance in Y Tu Mama Tambien to grace the screen again). Actually, all of the cast is top notch but Verdu is a standout.

The beauty of Pan's Labyrinth is that it is not a fairy tale for kiddies. Guillermo is a geek, through and through, so this is more of a masturbatory outing for adults whose inner children have grown up into little freaks. It is gory, at times look-away-from-the-screen gory. The fantasy scenes are quite creepy, especially the monster at the feast.

It isn't a perfect film. The pacing is a little off, there are some unmotivated plot developments and many have criticised the lack of more direct parallels between the two storylines. I can understand the concerns but for me it didn't detract too much from the film as a whole.

Done! See it!

Now, let's get geeky: who would win in a fight between Pan's Labyrinth and The Devil's Backbone? Hmm. It's a tight match. There'd be two pulpy messes after the bout but I think that The Devil's Backbone would probably win out because it had just a little bit more texture and menace to it. Certainly don't let that stop you from seeing this film. I'd recommend it wholeheartedly.

Let the Sunshine In

2007-01-18T09:48:00.000+11:00

Some marketing company is trying to go grass roots with the new Danny Boyle flick.

I'll play along. Here is the new trailer for Sunshine. Boyle has teamed with Garland again. Sure he wrote that abomination of a novel The Beach but he also gave us 28 Days Later so I am waiting to see what he can pull together with this one. Apparently the dialogue is quite stilted but from the trailer the action looks pretty tight.

Embed This Video | Visit Fox Searchlight

Fingers crossed.

At the very least we know that Danny Boyle can make even the most appalling screenplay intriguing. Just look at A Life Less Ordinary.

Another B&S Quote

2007-01-17T11:28:00.000+11:00

Brothers and Sisters has become my guilty pleasure since Alias went by the wayside - well, Brothers and Sisters and Heroes. I think there is just enough schlock and schmaltz in the two shows to more than make up for the preposterous outings of Ms. Bristow. The good bits are made up for by Battlestar Galactica (now with added Alias alumnus).

Of course, this means I am now having to watch three shows a week instead of one but, thanks to the vagaries of American programming, they are never all on in one week.

Aaaanyway, I just wanted to share another insubstantial quip from the show. You may remember, this was edging towards being a regular feature for a while, and it probably would have been but for the aforementioned vagaries of American television programming.

Sarah: He's bi...
Kevin: No one's bi. Have you ever heard of a seventy year-old bisexual. At some point you make a choice, thus the expression: bi now, gay later.

Pride And Prejudice (or, Just Prejudice)

2007-01-17T11:15:00.000+11:00

I caught a few moments of the BBC's excellent Pride and Prejudice last week and I was inspired to finally watch the ex-rental film adaptation I bought in Brighton last April.

I shouldn't have.

That's all.