To dispel the tedium of working ALL weekend I text into George Lamb's BBC 6Music show today and he liked my pun enough to not only read it out, but credit it with a pan pipe of approval.
Some free publicity for VCG-Kestrel...wish Id put my name on it now
Sunday, 25 April 2010
Friday, 23 April 2010
Cemetry Junction : A review by James Cox
Cemetery Junction is the first cinematic offering for the Gervais/Merchant team that has spawned television gold (that requires no name check), a record breaking podcast and introduced us to Karl Pilkington’s own brand of idiotic genius.
The title is taken from a real town near Gervais’s Reading origins and encapsulates perfectly the apathetic stagnation of a working class community, and in particular, three friends who, having graced the threshold of adulthood, must decide where their future lies.
It is to Gervais and Merchant’s credit (and the film’s) that the protagonists Freddie, Bruce and Snork aren’t played by the A-listers they could have so easily called upon with their star studded connections and comedic prestige.
Instead the young debutants take centre stage, and our lack of familiarity with them as actors allows us to bond with their genuine dynamic a lot sooner, and a lot closer.
If they are guilty of anything, it’s perhaps being too handsome for working class losers, but their allegiance to the chubby, down-trodden Snork, (a young Nick Frost look-a-like, sound-a-like and walk-a-like), is authentic and never gimmicky.
In their first major roles Christian Cooke, Tom Hughes and Jack Doolan relegate the established screen names to brilliant, but peripheral characters, off which the friends bounce like pinballs, their individual insecurities bundled and bound by the collective dilemma of their impending adulthood.
Freddie (Cooke) has made his mind up. He refuses to end up like his factory working father (Gervais) who despite a life of labour and honest hard work, is anchored in the 70’s working class; complete with nagging mother-in-law, casual retro-racism and a humdrum disregard for any ambitions beyond their hometown.
In his small screen time, Gervais manages, among his trademark quips, to summon a pang of recognition in the acceptance of his station.
Freddie blags a job with a wealthy Insurance Company, owned by a brilliantly ruthless Ralph Fiennes, and decides to make a go of success, much to the amusement of his friends.
Bruce (Hughes) and Snork (Doolan) are less emphatic in their desire to progress and relish in the japes, bar brawls and scrapes with the law that have defined their teen years.
These characters could so easily have been hackneyed devices, comedic foils and rebellious devils on the shoulder of Cooke’s sensible and focused Freddie. But the script veers cleverly away from the obvious flanking manoeuvre, adding naïve charm to Snork’s court jester, and a dark homelife subplot that fuels Bruce’s anger and failure to commit to his promise of leaving Cemetery Junction for better things.
Freddie’s attempts to succeed in the insurance sales business are hindered by his empathy with the customers (his salesman mentor bats away a naïve couples saving for a quick sale, much to his dismay) and his re-acquaintance with childhood friend, the beautiful and creative Julie (Felicity Jones), who just happens to be his bosses daughter and his mentor’s fiancé.
Julie harbours dreams of her own to become a travel photographer, and her desire to explore and experience life outside of Reading infects Freddie and ignites feelings for her that threaten his own plans, and position within his new job.
Amazingly, considering the creative team behind Cemetery Junction, this is far from the sharp comedy I was expecting, but instead, we get an intelligent, funny, thoughtful and genuinely moving portrayal of a town full of losers, and a man’s desire to escape the same fate.
The three main performances are pitch perfect, and precocious in their confidence. The carefully assembled supporting cast, Fiennes, Julia Davis, Steve Speirs and Emily Watson (fantastic as Julie’s mother, the “ghost” of a woman who once had a life, now a prophetic template for her daughters inevitable descent into house-ridden monotony), are used sparingly to excellent affect, both dramatically and comedically.
Speirs, recognisable as the over friendly Welshman from Extras, provides a revelatory performance anchoring the comedy to the drama and setting up one of the many tug-on-the-heartstring moments.
I’ve also got to mention Francis Magee as Bruce’s father, who in just minutes of screen time and barely any dialogue portraits a lifetime of hurt and a man at the mercy of bad luck.
We’ve always known Merchant and Gervias were writers at their core.
They proved with The Office that they can create quotable dialogue parallel with acute observations, and it’s their ability to recognise people, and write that recognition into their scripts, that is so successful in this film.
Every time a scene is played for laughs, a flash of dour observation is moments behind, and every time a musical set piece or chase montage ups the tempo, we are brought back to our kipper-tied reality by sparkles of pathos that brought audible sobs from the audience.
The main criticisms have been towards the lack of laughs (which are a lot more sparse than a conventional sitcom, which, of course, this never claimed to be) and its light hearted temperament, which I personally cannot understand.
The direction shows an unintrusive, mature quality that I didn’t expect, helped along by the authentic set design and establishment of the small town working class community.
The soundtrack plays it safe most of the way (although opting for the David Bowie original of “All the Young Dudes” rather than the popular Mott The Hoople version was a master stroke) but the allusion to pop culture is authentic in a way that seems autobiographical. In fact much of this film suggests Gervais may be developing a Polaroid of his own 70’s childhood; from the Ziggy posters to his mothers shocked retort to his ambition to travel “there are parts of Reading you haven’t seen yet”. This dialogue will be familiar to podcast fans as a genuine soundbite from his real life mother.
As a Gervais/Merchant fan, I was concerned about this movie, well aware that anything deemed less successful than their two monster sitcoms would receive barbed criticism. I am also aware that the subject matter and British made 1970’s context may alienate some of his more subversive fans who like Gervais for his shock humour and child like energy we are accustomed to from his stand up and radio shows.
Cemetery Junction is, however, a thoughtful and often funny melodrama in the mould of “Saturday Night And Sunday Morning”, that pulls on your emotions and crystallises the fading light on a town full of broken dreams, and the youthful exuberance of creative minds that need to escape.
A truly enjoyable film that could be as important for the British film industry as it could for the directorial duo’s big screen aspirations.
Footnote: Karl’s very minor cameo made me choke on my coke with laughter.
The title is taken from a real town near Gervais’s Reading origins and encapsulates perfectly the apathetic stagnation of a working class community, and in particular, three friends who, having graced the threshold of adulthood, must decide where their future lies.
It is to Gervais and Merchant’s credit (and the film’s) that the protagonists Freddie, Bruce and Snork aren’t played by the A-listers they could have so easily called upon with their star studded connections and comedic prestige.
Instead the young debutants take centre stage, and our lack of familiarity with them as actors allows us to bond with their genuine dynamic a lot sooner, and a lot closer.
If they are guilty of anything, it’s perhaps being too handsome for working class losers, but their allegiance to the chubby, down-trodden Snork, (a young Nick Frost look-a-like, sound-a-like and walk-a-like), is authentic and never gimmicky.
In their first major roles Christian Cooke, Tom Hughes and Jack Doolan relegate the established screen names to brilliant, but peripheral characters, off which the friends bounce like pinballs, their individual insecurities bundled and bound by the collective dilemma of their impending adulthood.
Freddie (Cooke) has made his mind up. He refuses to end up like his factory working father (Gervais) who despite a life of labour and honest hard work, is anchored in the 70’s working class; complete with nagging mother-in-law, casual retro-racism and a humdrum disregard for any ambitions beyond their hometown.
In his small screen time, Gervais manages, among his trademark quips, to summon a pang of recognition in the acceptance of his station.
Freddie blags a job with a wealthy Insurance Company, owned by a brilliantly ruthless Ralph Fiennes, and decides to make a go of success, much to the amusement of his friends.
Bruce (Hughes) and Snork (Doolan) are less emphatic in their desire to progress and relish in the japes, bar brawls and scrapes with the law that have defined their teen years.
These characters could so easily have been hackneyed devices, comedic foils and rebellious devils on the shoulder of Cooke’s sensible and focused Freddie. But the script veers cleverly away from the obvious flanking manoeuvre, adding naïve charm to Snork’s court jester, and a dark homelife subplot that fuels Bruce’s anger and failure to commit to his promise of leaving Cemetery Junction for better things.
Freddie’s attempts to succeed in the insurance sales business are hindered by his empathy with the customers (his salesman mentor bats away a naïve couples saving for a quick sale, much to his dismay) and his re-acquaintance with childhood friend, the beautiful and creative Julie (Felicity Jones), who just happens to be his bosses daughter and his mentor’s fiancé.
Julie harbours dreams of her own to become a travel photographer, and her desire to explore and experience life outside of Reading infects Freddie and ignites feelings for her that threaten his own plans, and position within his new job.
Amazingly, considering the creative team behind Cemetery Junction, this is far from the sharp comedy I was expecting, but instead, we get an intelligent, funny, thoughtful and genuinely moving portrayal of a town full of losers, and a man’s desire to escape the same fate.
The three main performances are pitch perfect, and precocious in their confidence. The carefully assembled supporting cast, Fiennes, Julia Davis, Steve Speirs and Emily Watson (fantastic as Julie’s mother, the “ghost” of a woman who once had a life, now a prophetic template for her daughters inevitable descent into house-ridden monotony), are used sparingly to excellent affect, both dramatically and comedically.
Speirs, recognisable as the over friendly Welshman from Extras, provides a revelatory performance anchoring the comedy to the drama and setting up one of the many tug-on-the-heartstring moments.
I’ve also got to mention Francis Magee as Bruce’s father, who in just minutes of screen time and barely any dialogue portraits a lifetime of hurt and a man at the mercy of bad luck.
We’ve always known Merchant and Gervias were writers at their core.
They proved with The Office that they can create quotable dialogue parallel with acute observations, and it’s their ability to recognise people, and write that recognition into their scripts, that is so successful in this film.
Every time a scene is played for laughs, a flash of dour observation is moments behind, and every time a musical set piece or chase montage ups the tempo, we are brought back to our kipper-tied reality by sparkles of pathos that brought audible sobs from the audience.
The main criticisms have been towards the lack of laughs (which are a lot more sparse than a conventional sitcom, which, of course, this never claimed to be) and its light hearted temperament, which I personally cannot understand.
The direction shows an unintrusive, mature quality that I didn’t expect, helped along by the authentic set design and establishment of the small town working class community.
The soundtrack plays it safe most of the way (although opting for the David Bowie original of “All the Young Dudes” rather than the popular Mott The Hoople version was a master stroke) but the allusion to pop culture is authentic in a way that seems autobiographical. In fact much of this film suggests Gervais may be developing a Polaroid of his own 70’s childhood; from the Ziggy posters to his mothers shocked retort to his ambition to travel “there are parts of Reading you haven’t seen yet”. This dialogue will be familiar to podcast fans as a genuine soundbite from his real life mother.
As a Gervais/Merchant fan, I was concerned about this movie, well aware that anything deemed less successful than their two monster sitcoms would receive barbed criticism. I am also aware that the subject matter and British made 1970’s context may alienate some of his more subversive fans who like Gervais for his shock humour and child like energy we are accustomed to from his stand up and radio shows.
Cemetery Junction is, however, a thoughtful and often funny melodrama in the mould of “Saturday Night And Sunday Morning”, that pulls on your emotions and crystallises the fading light on a town full of broken dreams, and the youthful exuberance of creative minds that need to escape.
A truly enjoyable film that could be as important for the British film industry as it could for the directorial duo’s big screen aspirations.
Footnote: Karl’s very minor cameo made me choke on my coke with laughter.
Sunday, 11 April 2010
A letter from God to Man (from the track by Dan Le Sac vs Scroobius Pip)
Hey There, how, how’s it going?
Long time no see.
I know I haven’t been around much lately
But…it didn’t seem like you wanted me to be
The last time I sent down a message you nailed it to the cross
So I figured I’d just leave you to it, let you be your own boss
But I’ve been keeping an eye on you, I have, and it’s amazing how you’ve grown.
With your technological advances and the problems you’ve overthrown,
And all the beautiful art you’ve created with such grace and such finesse,
But I admit there are a few things I’m afraid have impressed me less.
So I’m writing to apologise for all the horrors committed in my name,
Although that was never what I intended, I feel I should take my share of the blame.
All the good I tried to do was corrupted when all the religion got into full swing,
What I thought were quite clear messages were taken to unusual extremes.
My teachings taken out of context to meet the agendas of others,
Interpretations taken to many different ways and hidden meanings discovered
Religion became a tool, for the weak to control the strong
With all these new morals and ethics, survival of the fittest was gone
No longer could the biggest man simply take whatever he needed
‘cause damnation was the price if certain rules were not heeded
Some of the deeds committed in my name just made me wonder were I went wrong.
Back at the start when I created this, the foundation seemed so strong.
See all the elements were already here, long before I began, I just kind of put it all together
I didn’t really think out a long-term plan.
I made the sun an appropriate distance and laid the stars across the sky
So you could navigate the globe or simply watch the sun rise
I covered the earth with plants and fruits,
Some for sustenance and some for beauty
I made the sun shine and the clouds rain so their maintenance wasn’t your duty
I tried to give each creature its own attributes without making them enveloped
I gave you all your own space to grow and in your own way, space to develop
I didn’t know such development would cause rifts and jealousy
Cause you to war against each other and leave marks on this planet indelibly
You see, I wasn’t really the creator, I was just the curator of nature
I want to get something straight with homosexuals right now: I don’t hate ya
I was a simple being that happened to be the first to wield such powers
I just laid the ground, it was You that built the towers
It was You that invented bombs, and the fear that comes with them
And it was You that invented money, and the corrupt economic systems
You invented terms like just-war and terms like friendly fire
And it was You that didn’t know when to stop digging deeper, when to stop building higher
It was You that exhausted the resources I carefully laid out on this earth,
And it was You that even saw these problems coming but accredited them little worth
It was You that used my teachings for your own personal gain
And it was You that committed such tragedies, even though they were in my name
So I apologise for any mistakes I made, and when my words misconstrued
But this apology’s to mother nature, cause I created you.
Long time no see.
I know I haven’t been around much lately
But…it didn’t seem like you wanted me to be
The last time I sent down a message you nailed it to the cross
So I figured I’d just leave you to it, let you be your own boss
But I’ve been keeping an eye on you, I have, and it’s amazing how you’ve grown.
With your technological advances and the problems you’ve overthrown,
And all the beautiful art you’ve created with such grace and such finesse,
But I admit there are a few things I’m afraid have impressed me less.
So I’m writing to apologise for all the horrors committed in my name,
Although that was never what I intended, I feel I should take my share of the blame.
All the good I tried to do was corrupted when all the religion got into full swing,
What I thought were quite clear messages were taken to unusual extremes.
My teachings taken out of context to meet the agendas of others,
Interpretations taken to many different ways and hidden meanings discovered
Religion became a tool, for the weak to control the strong
With all these new morals and ethics, survival of the fittest was gone
No longer could the biggest man simply take whatever he needed
‘cause damnation was the price if certain rules were not heeded
Some of the deeds committed in my name just made me wonder were I went wrong.
Back at the start when I created this, the foundation seemed so strong.
See all the elements were already here, long before I began, I just kind of put it all together
I didn’t really think out a long-term plan.
I made the sun an appropriate distance and laid the stars across the sky
So you could navigate the globe or simply watch the sun rise
I covered the earth with plants and fruits,
Some for sustenance and some for beauty
I made the sun shine and the clouds rain so their maintenance wasn’t your duty
I tried to give each creature its own attributes without making them enveloped
I gave you all your own space to grow and in your own way, space to develop
I didn’t know such development would cause rifts and jealousy
Cause you to war against each other and leave marks on this planet indelibly
You see, I wasn’t really the creator, I was just the curator of nature
I want to get something straight with homosexuals right now: I don’t hate ya
I was a simple being that happened to be the first to wield such powers
I just laid the ground, it was You that built the towers
It was You that invented bombs, and the fear that comes with them
And it was You that invented money, and the corrupt economic systems
You invented terms like just-war and terms like friendly fire
And it was You that didn’t know when to stop digging deeper, when to stop building higher
It was You that exhausted the resources I carefully laid out on this earth,
And it was You that even saw these problems coming but accredited them little worth
It was You that used my teachings for your own personal gain
And it was You that committed such tragedies, even though they were in my name
So I apologise for any mistakes I made, and when my words misconstrued
But this apology’s to mother nature, cause I created you.
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