The Arctic Monkeys have, not wanting to turn their backs on perceived failings, put at least three songs on Suck It And See (Brick By Brick, Library Pictures, All My Own Stunts) that play out like salty leftovers from their previous album - Humbug. Library Pictures, for instance, could be taken as a companion piece to Pretty Visitors with it’s cascading rhetoric and lucid midway waltz. Generally though on Suck It And See there’s an overall feeling that the Sheffield foursome are striving for more than just the breathe-too-hard-and-they’ll-fall-over melodies featured on Humbug. The denser production and brighter tone on songs like Reckless Serenade, Suck It And See and the epic That’s Where You’re Wrong hint at a new direction altogether.
As the rest of the British indie/alternative music scene scrambles desperately to sound like early to mid 1980s synth pop groups (a revivalist genre ensnaring the likes of Kaiser Chiefs, Glasvegas and Editors) the Arctic Monkeys have boldly moved on a step and now warmly tip their flat caps to late 80s Madchester bands and Union Jack waving 90s Britpop stalwarts such as The Stone Roses, The Charlatans, The Bluetones, The Lightning Seeds and, erm, Babybird (you’ll know it when you hear it). It’s a brave step, considering that said decade of untucked long-sleeved shirts and shaggy bowl haircuts still feels relatively close and, as with all just-departed periods of fashion and music culture, regrettable. But the Monkeys’ fourth album effortlessly strives to celebrate a jangly, drunken singalong vibe that has all but vanished in contemporary indie rock.
Suck It And See’s opening track contains a couple of mistakes… intentional mistakes, of course… clever mistakes. She’s Thunderstorms acts as a continuation of Humbug’s precedent of getting the ball rolling with a tale of sexual frustration and symbolic titillation. Alex Turner sings about having girls “lying on [their] front” or “up against the wall”. Wherever. But girls send his mind and mouth into a frenzy and his rising blood pressure shoots his vocals into a topsy turvy summersault. So much so are these four Northern boys distracted by black leggings and teasing feminine fringes that even the guitar solo gets “sabotaged” by too much distortion that creates an ugly and cloudy fuzz tone (tightened slightly with effects and equalisation) that most guitarists would demand a re-take of.
What seems to have changed most of all since 2006’s Whatever They Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not is the prioritisation of Turner’s crooning vocals over frenetic twin guitar attacks. Each song is constructed to allow the vocals to wander in and out at any time, like a band playing live that’s waiting patiently for their singer to swagger back on stage after a lengthy cigarette break. The compositions are looser and take into account a more patient audience/fanbase that are less in need of instant pop gratification. You get the feeling that Richard Hawley and The Divine Comedy have been playing on Turner’s turntable of late and have taught him the importance of languid purposeful pace and charming music hall pomp.
If their milestone 2006 debut represented a snapshot of being at the age when you’re either too old or too young to get away with reckless behaviour and could never (and probably should never) be repeated then ideally what has come along since should be considered their true starting point. Suck It And See is the sound of the Arctic Monkeys finally settling into themselves; juggling playful images of love, loss and life in perpetual motion with shimmering guitar jetstreams and show-stopping rhythm section interludes.
But there are still pleasant consistencies: we’re treated to perhaps the most tender and soulful tune they’ve yet committed to tape in the form of Love Is A Laserquest which continues their endearing predilection for introspective ballads (see Riot Van, The Only Ones Who Know and Secret Door for more information). We also get a (now standard?) mid-tempo love song with Piledriver Waltz that’s definitely equal to the likes of Mardy Bum, Florescent Adolescent and Cornerstone.
Overall Suck It And See has a lasting quality that makes up for the service station comfort break that was 2009’s Humbug, however the whiskey soaked ventures into haunted forest atmospherics are still present and have yet to be shaken off by a band still too youthful for such bitter grown up antics. Stick to the guitar pop, boys, there’s still plenty of time to emulate Nick Cave and Tom Waits... and don’t worry about trying to impress Queens Of The Stone Age’s Josh Homme (who co-produced Humbug) with limp interpretations of stoner rock and cactus blues, he’s only a ginger and can’t hurt you.
4/5
Friday, 17 June 2011
Tuesday, 14 June 2011
Arctic Monkeys at the Don Valley Bowl
The doors opened for the Arctic Monkeys gig at five o’clock in the afternoon/evening, which seemed very early so I decided it would be best if we left the house at five thereby missing a support act or two. I was somehow expecting a large tent in the middle of the Don Valley Bowl, which would look weird, but in actual fact it was a massive arena sized tent just on site and not within the stadium perimeter itself. We rode in on the tram and as we came to the right stop there were a few exclamations from other passengers and, assumedly, visitors to the gig along the lines of “oh, that’s where they’ve put it!!”… so at least it wasn’t just me wondering how it was going to be set out.
We got through the gates fine and they didn’t ask to check for proof of my disability which was good as it would have felt a bit demeaning (although I did have proof on me). I was using my cane anyway so it was pretty clear that I had a problem.
There were lots of food and drinks stalls outside the music tent and we indulged in a few. It felt more like a beer festival than a standard rock concert. We had a pork roll, some southern fried chicken and, later on, a bacon and cheeseburger. There were plenty of toilets including a male urinal section, which was strange to do outside.
After a couple of Gaymers ciders (which was lush and tasted nicer than horrible Strongbow) we went and found the disabled platform and made ourselves comfortable. We were miles away from the actual stage but no more so than some of the regular audience members who were struggling to get anywhere near the main event.
We’d stayed away for the first two support acts but sat down for Miles Kane, who was only ok but seemed to get the crowd very excited. I wondered for a second whether his road crew were pumping pre-recorded crowd cheers through the speakers as I’m just not convinced Miles Kane is that popular. He seemed quite cocky onstage and seems to be riding on his association with Alex Turner and the Arctic Monkeys quite comfortably. His set reminded me a lot of Cast, but not quite as good.
When the Arctic Monkeys did finally come on they kept to the same setlist as the previous night (Friday), which was a shame as it felt like we weren’t getting anything particular to our night. Still, it was very enjoyable and I got very excited when they started. I’m still convinced they went out of time a couple of times on the first song. The transition from A View From The Afternoon to Brianstorm was very successful and it felt like the two songs were written for each other. I was amazed how giddy I was when they played Crying Lightning from their previous album as the whole record was hardly a career highlight… it just seemed to work very well in a live setting.
I had to go to the disabled chemical toilet a few times the more I drank, which is typical, but I’m glad it was nice and spacious and not too smelly. We were sat amongst a nice group of people although once the Monkeys started going a guy turned up on crutches and proceeded to drunkenly swing them around his head (almost hitting my girlfriend).
I hadn’t planned to stay to the end as I knew it’d be a bugger trying to get on public transport with 2,000 other punters so we left after I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor which seemed aptly timed about two thirds of the way through their set. It didn’t seem to matter that we’d left early however as we could still hear the concert from the tram stop half an hour later and caught the next three or four songs.
We rode back into Sheffield centre and got the bus home. I needed the toilet again all the way home and almost had a sneaky wee in the doorway of an abandoned building next to the bus stop, but resisted thank goodness.
All in all it was a successful evening and we really enjoyed ourselves. I’m glad they had food stalls on because it stopped me getting too drunk (a total of eight pints were downed by the end of the night… eek!!). It’s a shame the gig wasn’t quite as intimate as I thought it’d be but I guess I’ll never see the Arctic Monkeys in a small venue until maybe they’re in the twilight of their careers (and I in mine… whatever that turns out to be, lol). Two thumbs up, lads!!!
We got through the gates fine and they didn’t ask to check for proof of my disability which was good as it would have felt a bit demeaning (although I did have proof on me). I was using my cane anyway so it was pretty clear that I had a problem.
There were lots of food and drinks stalls outside the music tent and we indulged in a few. It felt more like a beer festival than a standard rock concert. We had a pork roll, some southern fried chicken and, later on, a bacon and cheeseburger. There were plenty of toilets including a male urinal section, which was strange to do outside.
After a couple of Gaymers ciders (which was lush and tasted nicer than horrible Strongbow) we went and found the disabled platform and made ourselves comfortable. We were miles away from the actual stage but no more so than some of the regular audience members who were struggling to get anywhere near the main event.
We’d stayed away for the first two support acts but sat down for Miles Kane, who was only ok but seemed to get the crowd very excited. I wondered for a second whether his road crew were pumping pre-recorded crowd cheers through the speakers as I’m just not convinced Miles Kane is that popular. He seemed quite cocky onstage and seems to be riding on his association with Alex Turner and the Arctic Monkeys quite comfortably. His set reminded me a lot of Cast, but not quite as good.
When the Arctic Monkeys did finally come on they kept to the same setlist as the previous night (Friday), which was a shame as it felt like we weren’t getting anything particular to our night. Still, it was very enjoyable and I got very excited when they started. I’m still convinced they went out of time a couple of times on the first song. The transition from A View From The Afternoon to Brianstorm was very successful and it felt like the two songs were written for each other. I was amazed how giddy I was when they played Crying Lightning from their previous album as the whole record was hardly a career highlight… it just seemed to work very well in a live setting.
I had to go to the disabled chemical toilet a few times the more I drank, which is typical, but I’m glad it was nice and spacious and not too smelly. We were sat amongst a nice group of people although once the Monkeys started going a guy turned up on crutches and proceeded to drunkenly swing them around his head (almost hitting my girlfriend).
I hadn’t planned to stay to the end as I knew it’d be a bugger trying to get on public transport with 2,000 other punters so we left after I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor which seemed aptly timed about two thirds of the way through their set. It didn’t seem to matter that we’d left early however as we could still hear the concert from the tram stop half an hour later and caught the next three or four songs.
We rode back into Sheffield centre and got the bus home. I needed the toilet again all the way home and almost had a sneaky wee in the doorway of an abandoned building next to the bus stop, but resisted thank goodness.
All in all it was a successful evening and we really enjoyed ourselves. I’m glad they had food stalls on because it stopped me getting too drunk (a total of eight pints were downed by the end of the night… eek!!). It’s a shame the gig wasn’t quite as intimate as I thought it’d be but I guess I’ll never see the Arctic Monkeys in a small venue until maybe they’re in the twilight of their careers (and I in mine… whatever that turns out to be, lol). Two thumbs up, lads!!!
Sunday, 17 April 2011
Angles
It’s always nice when a song comes along that hits so many giddy nerves in your body that it makes you whistle and skip from the breakfast table right through to your midnight cereal raid… and it just so happens that “Under Cover Of Darkness” on The Strokes’ fourth album Angles is one of those tunes. In fact it’s so riff-tastic and catchy that you almost curse yourself for not coming up with the idea first.
Thankfully though this isn’t the only gem on the band’s long awaited (and much feared by this reviewer) follow-up to the deeply flawed First Impressions Of Earth which frontman Julian Casablancas managed to spoil almost single-handedly with a collection of vocal melodies which plunged to the very nadir of songwriting craft. Angles, predictably much like it’s title, has a few new angles to it, but the resulting record is neither confused nor rambling… it’s also mercifully shorter than it’s overlong predecessor.
From the colourful opener Machu Picchu onwards it’s clear that The Strokes have finally remembered how to infuse a bit of sunlight and fun into their garage rock groove and have brushed away the cobwebs of the past to march ahead to a more promising, productive and artistically valid future.
There are some lovely 80s flavours to the album, so much so in fact that on tracks like “Two Kinds Of Happiness” and “Games” you half expect Cyndi Lauper to make a guest appearance and wink cheekily through your speakers with a mouth full of bubblegum.
Elsewhere there are more earnest experiments into Radiohead-style alt-rock that thankfully aren’t left field enough to spoil the flow of the record and end up being entertaining in their own right. For those yearning for a reminder of their first two albums then “Taken For A Fool” comes with a lush chorus that must’ve been picked straight up off the cutting room (on fire) floor.
Angles is certainly one of the better albums to appear during this guitar-rock lull and the shoulder pad inducing synths are mixed well with the band’s familiar retro sound.
Give it a go… it’s a very rewarding “grower”.
4/5
Thankfully though this isn’t the only gem on the band’s long awaited (and much feared by this reviewer) follow-up to the deeply flawed First Impressions Of Earth which frontman Julian Casablancas managed to spoil almost single-handedly with a collection of vocal melodies which plunged to the very nadir of songwriting craft. Angles, predictably much like it’s title, has a few new angles to it, but the resulting record is neither confused nor rambling… it’s also mercifully shorter than it’s overlong predecessor.
From the colourful opener Machu Picchu onwards it’s clear that The Strokes have finally remembered how to infuse a bit of sunlight and fun into their garage rock groove and have brushed away the cobwebs of the past to march ahead to a more promising, productive and artistically valid future.
There are some lovely 80s flavours to the album, so much so in fact that on tracks like “Two Kinds Of Happiness” and “Games” you half expect Cyndi Lauper to make a guest appearance and wink cheekily through your speakers with a mouth full of bubblegum.
Elsewhere there are more earnest experiments into Radiohead-style alt-rock that thankfully aren’t left field enough to spoil the flow of the record and end up being entertaining in their own right. For those yearning for a reminder of their first two albums then “Taken For A Fool” comes with a lush chorus that must’ve been picked straight up off the cutting room (on fire) floor.
Angles is certainly one of the better albums to appear during this guitar-rock lull and the shoulder pad inducing synths are mixed well with the band’s familiar retro sound.
Give it a go… it’s a very rewarding “grower”.
4/5
Saturday, 12 February 2011
Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps – film review
I’m not sure what the moral implications are of watching a sequel before the original, but I’ve not really been that keen on catching Wall Street 1 but sort of guessed what the general gist of it was and heard roughly how it ended.
So, how does watching a sequel “blind” work out?
I guess I’ll find out when I finally watch the original, but for some reason I was attracted to seeing Money Never Sleeps to satisfy certain curiosities… namely, why does a director who tends to tackle quite serious political issues in one-off releases feel the need to dig out a film he made twenty years ago and make his first ever sequel?
I’ve not seen many Oliver Stone films, not because he’s a bad director or a boring visualist, but because, like Martin Scorsese, his usual subject matters don’t tend interest me very much. On the odd occasion that he does stray away from war films or political musings then you’ll find me forking out the cash for a reduced-to-clear dvd copy.
There’s an important and valid point made in Money Never Sleeps which the news media really needs to make clear to the general public when the country falls into another recession: a capitalist economy is cyclical, you’ll get dips and crashes in the market but this needs to happen in order for it to regenerate itself… so don’t panic!! Numbers can’t hurt you, things will work out in the end and people, lives and relationships are far more important than year end bonuses. Freedom and wealth can’t be counted and felt in bank balances and possessions.
I did brace myself for an angry film about sharp suited yuppies clambering for money and power, but I’m guessing that’s what the original film was about. Even though this one sort of starts off like that, it actually turns out to be a very sweet and warm hearted little film that wants to inspire people to push themselves to improve the world for the greater moral good rather than for personal gain.
There’re ace performances from the lovely (oh so lovely) Shia LaBeouf (who’s managing to prove that he’s not just another young stud from the Hollywood cookie cutter to end up in the forgotten footnotes of movie casting history), Michael Douglas (one of my favourite movie stars… he’s just so cool and nobody gets angry quite like him) and Carey Mulligan (who’s stunning emotional breakdowns and twinkly, tear filled eyes are given extra screen time and pauses by Stone’s adoring camera).
Money Never Sleeps is a film about hope and believing in doing the right thing even though it doesn’t earn you millions and billions of sweet, sweet dosh.
Give it a go, then watch the first one.
4/5
So, how does watching a sequel “blind” work out?
I guess I’ll find out when I finally watch the original, but for some reason I was attracted to seeing Money Never Sleeps to satisfy certain curiosities… namely, why does a director who tends to tackle quite serious political issues in one-off releases feel the need to dig out a film he made twenty years ago and make his first ever sequel?
I’ve not seen many Oliver Stone films, not because he’s a bad director or a boring visualist, but because, like Martin Scorsese, his usual subject matters don’t tend interest me very much. On the odd occasion that he does stray away from war films or political musings then you’ll find me forking out the cash for a reduced-to-clear dvd copy.
There’s an important and valid point made in Money Never Sleeps which the news media really needs to make clear to the general public when the country falls into another recession: a capitalist economy is cyclical, you’ll get dips and crashes in the market but this needs to happen in order for it to regenerate itself… so don’t panic!! Numbers can’t hurt you, things will work out in the end and people, lives and relationships are far more important than year end bonuses. Freedom and wealth can’t be counted and felt in bank balances and possessions.
I did brace myself for an angry film about sharp suited yuppies clambering for money and power, but I’m guessing that’s what the original film was about. Even though this one sort of starts off like that, it actually turns out to be a very sweet and warm hearted little film that wants to inspire people to push themselves to improve the world for the greater moral good rather than for personal gain.
There’re ace performances from the lovely (oh so lovely) Shia LaBeouf (who’s managing to prove that he’s not just another young stud from the Hollywood cookie cutter to end up in the forgotten footnotes of movie casting history), Michael Douglas (one of my favourite movie stars… he’s just so cool and nobody gets angry quite like him) and Carey Mulligan (who’s stunning emotional breakdowns and twinkly, tear filled eyes are given extra screen time and pauses by Stone’s adoring camera).
Money Never Sleeps is a film about hope and believing in doing the right thing even though it doesn’t earn you millions and billions of sweet, sweet dosh.
Give it a go, then watch the first one.
4/5
Sunday, 23 January 2011
Scott Pilgrim vs The World - film review
“Alfie tells the story of a young man who leads a promiscuous lifestyle until several life reversals make him rethink his purposes and goals in life.”
- Alfie (1966 film), Wikipedia
“Slacker:
someone who, while being intelligent, doesn't really feel like doing anything.”
- The Urban Dictionary
“Me and some guys from school
Had a band and we tried real hard
Jimmy quit and Joey got married
Shoulda known we'd never get far”
- from “Summer of 69” by Bryan Adams
The self-indulgent fantasies we have throughout our lives include themes of revenge, heroism, regret and sex. Scott Pilgrim vs The World joins a steadily mounting list of films such as Kick-Ass, Brazil, American Psycho, Inglorious Bastards and Once Upon A Time In America where the reality of what we’re watching is blurred by the suggestion that we are not watching events from a third person perspective, but from a first person perspective.
Scott Pilgrim, Kick-Ass and Brazil all feature fairly ordinary young men who go about their lives in a daze, fantasizing about being somebody they’re not and achieving things they can only dream about. In Brazil this is clear, most of the time Jonathan Pryce’s character Sam Lowry drifts off into soft-focus fantasies about being a winged hero rescuing a damsel in distress but eventually finds the reality of enacting such a scenario in real life far more complicated and painful. In Kick-Ass the fantasy is vague and based on how the viewer perceives things. Our main character pretends to be gay in an attempt to maintain a deception-based relationship with a girl he is in love with. The justification for this lying alter-ego manifests itself in a world of superheroes, where retaining ones secret identity is just as important and acceptable. Scott Pilgrim seems to be a little of both. A lot of what goes on in the film is clearly a fantasy, but there is no definition between the real world and the comic book/video game/superhero world. They are all integrated and intertwining in Scott Pilgrim’s mind.
The revenge fantasy of Inglorious Bastards presents an alternate reality where high ranking Nazi’s receive different and much more personally motivated ends and shares themes with Sergio Leone’s gangster epic Once Upon A Time In America about characters who cope with unresolved issues and feelings of guilt or desires for revenge through fantasy. It is believed that in Once Upon A Time In America the scenes where Robert DeNiro’s character Noodles returns to New York as an old man and attempts to solve a thirty year old mystery are the mere opium fuelled dreams of a guilt-ridden young man. With this in mind, you could argue that Inglorious Bastards ends at the beginning with the young girl escaping certain death from murderous Nazi’s through an open field… the rest of the film is her revenge fantasy unfolding as she flees. Scott Pilgrim gets his chance to revise the ending to his own movie, but not so subtly… he can just rewind events and play them out differently, something we’ve all wanted to do from time to time. I suppose you can forgive this time-bending attempt to wash away feelings of defeat and regret, after all, Pilgrim is being forced to play out the extremely petty revenge fantasies of seven other characters.
Towards the end of Scott Pilgrim vs The Word the titular lead character apparently earns the “power of self respect”. However he seems to have nothing but misguided ego and self-respect throughout the film as he lies and cheats his way through a series of meaningless relationships. Somewhere down the line Scott Pilgrim has convinced himself that this is acceptable behavior. He is another Patrick Bateman, and as with the American Psycho “serial killer” how can we possibly trust what our antihero tells us. If he is a liar and a cheat, then why should we accept anything that we see? Has the whole violent series of events we’ve just witnessed been just part of his fantasy?
Taken at face value Scott Pilgrim vs The World is a film let down by a central romance involving two attractive but rather dull and heartless people and never really recovers from it’s weakest but most pivotal plot point: if Scott Pilgrim has to fight seven ex-partners of a girl he’s only just met and knows very little about, how long will it take for him (and the audience) to get fed up and question whether she’s actually worth it?
Not long.
But as a first person fantasy about lust and wish fulfillment it’s an exciting visual spectacle with an abundance of strong supporting characters that add dimension to an otherwise cold little movie. In fact the film really seems to crank up a notch when Jason Schwartzman arrives on screen towards the end. He does so well to brighten things up that you sort of wish they’d written him into earlier parts of the film.
Anyway, none of this matters of course, as it was all just a dream…
3/5
- Alfie (1966 film), Wikipedia
“Slacker:
someone who, while being intelligent, doesn't really feel like doing anything.”
- The Urban Dictionary
“Me and some guys from school
Had a band and we tried real hard
Jimmy quit and Joey got married
Shoulda known we'd never get far”
- from “Summer of 69” by Bryan Adams
The self-indulgent fantasies we have throughout our lives include themes of revenge, heroism, regret and sex. Scott Pilgrim vs The World joins a steadily mounting list of films such as Kick-Ass, Brazil, American Psycho, Inglorious Bastards and Once Upon A Time In America where the reality of what we’re watching is blurred by the suggestion that we are not watching events from a third person perspective, but from a first person perspective.
Scott Pilgrim, Kick-Ass and Brazil all feature fairly ordinary young men who go about their lives in a daze, fantasizing about being somebody they’re not and achieving things they can only dream about. In Brazil this is clear, most of the time Jonathan Pryce’s character Sam Lowry drifts off into soft-focus fantasies about being a winged hero rescuing a damsel in distress but eventually finds the reality of enacting such a scenario in real life far more complicated and painful. In Kick-Ass the fantasy is vague and based on how the viewer perceives things. Our main character pretends to be gay in an attempt to maintain a deception-based relationship with a girl he is in love with. The justification for this lying alter-ego manifests itself in a world of superheroes, where retaining ones secret identity is just as important and acceptable. Scott Pilgrim seems to be a little of both. A lot of what goes on in the film is clearly a fantasy, but there is no definition between the real world and the comic book/video game/superhero world. They are all integrated and intertwining in Scott Pilgrim’s mind.
The revenge fantasy of Inglorious Bastards presents an alternate reality where high ranking Nazi’s receive different and much more personally motivated ends and shares themes with Sergio Leone’s gangster epic Once Upon A Time In America about characters who cope with unresolved issues and feelings of guilt or desires for revenge through fantasy. It is believed that in Once Upon A Time In America the scenes where Robert DeNiro’s character Noodles returns to New York as an old man and attempts to solve a thirty year old mystery are the mere opium fuelled dreams of a guilt-ridden young man. With this in mind, you could argue that Inglorious Bastards ends at the beginning with the young girl escaping certain death from murderous Nazi’s through an open field… the rest of the film is her revenge fantasy unfolding as she flees. Scott Pilgrim gets his chance to revise the ending to his own movie, but not so subtly… he can just rewind events and play them out differently, something we’ve all wanted to do from time to time. I suppose you can forgive this time-bending attempt to wash away feelings of defeat and regret, after all, Pilgrim is being forced to play out the extremely petty revenge fantasies of seven other characters.
Towards the end of Scott Pilgrim vs The Word the titular lead character apparently earns the “power of self respect”. However he seems to have nothing but misguided ego and self-respect throughout the film as he lies and cheats his way through a series of meaningless relationships. Somewhere down the line Scott Pilgrim has convinced himself that this is acceptable behavior. He is another Patrick Bateman, and as with the American Psycho “serial killer” how can we possibly trust what our antihero tells us. If he is a liar and a cheat, then why should we accept anything that we see? Has the whole violent series of events we’ve just witnessed been just part of his fantasy?
Taken at face value Scott Pilgrim vs The World is a film let down by a central romance involving two attractive but rather dull and heartless people and never really recovers from it’s weakest but most pivotal plot point: if Scott Pilgrim has to fight seven ex-partners of a girl he’s only just met and knows very little about, how long will it take for him (and the audience) to get fed up and question whether she’s actually worth it?
Not long.
But as a first person fantasy about lust and wish fulfillment it’s an exciting visual spectacle with an abundance of strong supporting characters that add dimension to an otherwise cold little movie. In fact the film really seems to crank up a notch when Jason Schwartzman arrives on screen towards the end. He does so well to brighten things up that you sort of wish they’d written him into earlier parts of the film.
Anyway, none of this matters of course, as it was all just a dream…
3/5
Speed Racer - film review
Caught somewhere between Who Framed Roger Rabbit and Star Wars Episode II Attack Of The Clones, the purpose of Speed Racer seems not to evoke the cardboard feel of it’s origins but to exist in a bouncy Warner Brothers universe that dabbles in the uncertain editing and awkward silences of the Star Wars prequels.
If you’re not sure whether the film’s creative team wants us to take the disjointed and gravity-defying reality of Speed Racer seriously, fear not, the moment some penguins provide a screen wipe whilst waddling through a car factory then you’ll cease to care and accept that you’re just here to enjoy the ride.
Yes the racing scenes are confusing, but the Wachowski’s don’t seem particularly interested in terrestrial car racing, they want you to feel like you’re watching the podrace from The Phantom Menace or the speeder chase in Attack Of The Clones. You sort of work all that out pretty early on and get on board, so don’t worry.
As with JJ Abram’s recent Star Trek resuscitation this is a film about people taking pride in their work and finding passion and creativity in the most greasy and sterile of environments. We all have a purpose, something that drives us, but not everybody can relate to our individual needs in life. Some people are race car drivers, some are businessmen, some are sports commentators, some are gangsters. Whatever. Speed Racer has an abundance of passionate souls who, without their chosen vocation, would be lost in life.
Beyond the look and moral centre of Speed Racer we’re treated to some strong and earnest performances. I’m guessing these days most acting schools come with a “Working With Blue Screen” module that puts budding thesps at ease when speaking and performing to perhaps nothing more than a marker for their eye-line. Things are improving. Emile Hirsch, John Goodman, Susan Sarandon, Christina Ricci, Matthew Fox and Roger Allam all punch through the millions of dollars worth of special effects and give their characters real weight and value, as opposed to some CGI filled efforts where actors stand around looking bemused and slightly frightened.
Some odd pauses could have been trimmed or edited out and the time jumping narrative tightened to avoid some moments of confusion, but these elements seem to add to the heightened quality of the experience.
Speed Racer is fun, dazzling, camp, exciting, silly, surprising, full of heart and definitely worth a viewing. Even though references can be made and comparisons drawn, this really is a unique experience and will leave you desperate to find out how things end.
Go for it.
3/5
If you’re not sure whether the film’s creative team wants us to take the disjointed and gravity-defying reality of Speed Racer seriously, fear not, the moment some penguins provide a screen wipe whilst waddling through a car factory then you’ll cease to care and accept that you’re just here to enjoy the ride.
Yes the racing scenes are confusing, but the Wachowski’s don’t seem particularly interested in terrestrial car racing, they want you to feel like you’re watching the podrace from The Phantom Menace or the speeder chase in Attack Of The Clones. You sort of work all that out pretty early on and get on board, so don’t worry.
As with JJ Abram’s recent Star Trek resuscitation this is a film about people taking pride in their work and finding passion and creativity in the most greasy and sterile of environments. We all have a purpose, something that drives us, but not everybody can relate to our individual needs in life. Some people are race car drivers, some are businessmen, some are sports commentators, some are gangsters. Whatever. Speed Racer has an abundance of passionate souls who, without their chosen vocation, would be lost in life.
Beyond the look and moral centre of Speed Racer we’re treated to some strong and earnest performances. I’m guessing these days most acting schools come with a “Working With Blue Screen” module that puts budding thesps at ease when speaking and performing to perhaps nothing more than a marker for their eye-line. Things are improving. Emile Hirsch, John Goodman, Susan Sarandon, Christina Ricci, Matthew Fox and Roger Allam all punch through the millions of dollars worth of special effects and give their characters real weight and value, as opposed to some CGI filled efforts where actors stand around looking bemused and slightly frightened.
Some odd pauses could have been trimmed or edited out and the time jumping narrative tightened to avoid some moments of confusion, but these elements seem to add to the heightened quality of the experience.
Speed Racer is fun, dazzling, camp, exciting, silly, surprising, full of heart and definitely worth a viewing. Even though references can be made and comparisons drawn, this really is a unique experience and will leave you desperate to find out how things end.
Go for it.
3/5
Sunday, 2 January 2011
FAN TRACKLIST: Led Zeppelin Double Bill
In my relatively fresh history of enjoying Led Zeppelin I’ve found it difficult to acquire a fondness for their fifth and sixth albums, Houses of the Holy and Physical Graffiti.
I guess it doesn’t help that Houses of the Holy is rife with questionable genre experimentations and a self-indulgent overall theme of how big and successful Led Zeppelin were at the time (the title referring to the enormous stadiums they were regularly playing in and the song The Ocean named after the sea of fans that the band would observe from the stage every night), while double album Physical Graffiti is sprinkled liberally with studio outtakes from previous records that only serve to undermine the album’s flow and consistency.
So, a niggling doubt and theory in my mind grew and blossomed into something rather revelatory: if the title track from Houses of the Holy was left off that record for artistic reasons and added, rather clumsily, to Physical Graffiti… what would happen if it was moved back? In fact, what would happen if you removed all the tracks that weren’t recorded specifically for Physical Graffiti and ditch all but the three intended for Houses of the Holy (The Rover, Houses Of The Holy, Black Country Woman) and put them back where they belonged in place of the three songs (The Crunge, Dancing Days, D’yer Mak’er) that really don’t seem to work on that album?
Well, you have two slightly better albums, that’s what…
Houses of The Holy:
As well as just replacing three songs on Houses of the Holy I had a play around with the tracklist to make it more engaging… pushing the dreamy and beautiful The Rain Song closer to the end where it feels better served and bringing the haunting and strangely ahead-of-it’s-time No Quarter forward to give the middle of the album more power and gravitas. I also keep The Rover as the second track on the album (as it appeared on Physical Graffiti) and try to keep alive the Led Zeppelin tradition of finishing things off with a rootsy stomp with Black Country Woman.
Here’s my “Special Edition” of the album:
1. The Song Remains The Same
2. The Rover
3. Over The Hills And Far Away
4. No Quarter
5. The Ocean
6. Houses Of The Holy
7. The Rain Song
8. Black Country Woman
Physical Graffiti:
The sleeker version of Physical Graffiti has a faster pace, a heightened intensity and a significant musical consistency that the standard Physical Graffiti lacks. The things that bothered me about the album before just don’t stand out so much anymore…. basically the songs sound like they belong together and the “filler” has been trimmed. I understand that just because an album is shorter it does not always mean it will feel shorter, however the original extra seven tracks just seemed to weigh the whole thing down to the point that sometimes, when I played it, the album felt like it was wheezing on the floor.
Here’s how my shortened and preferred version runs:
1. Custard Pie
2. In My Time Of Dying
3. Trampled Under Foot
4. Kashmir
5. In The Light
6. Ten Years Gone
7. The Wanton Song
8. Sick Again
I often feel guilty when I tamper with the intended flow of an album (no matter how much I disagree with it), but in this instance it just feels right.
Give it a go, it’s interesting and fun.
I guess it doesn’t help that Houses of the Holy is rife with questionable genre experimentations and a self-indulgent overall theme of how big and successful Led Zeppelin were at the time (the title referring to the enormous stadiums they were regularly playing in and the song The Ocean named after the sea of fans that the band would observe from the stage every night), while double album Physical Graffiti is sprinkled liberally with studio outtakes from previous records that only serve to undermine the album’s flow and consistency.
So, a niggling doubt and theory in my mind grew and blossomed into something rather revelatory: if the title track from Houses of the Holy was left off that record for artistic reasons and added, rather clumsily, to Physical Graffiti… what would happen if it was moved back? In fact, what would happen if you removed all the tracks that weren’t recorded specifically for Physical Graffiti and ditch all but the three intended for Houses of the Holy (The Rover, Houses Of The Holy, Black Country Woman) and put them back where they belonged in place of the three songs (The Crunge, Dancing Days, D’yer Mak’er) that really don’t seem to work on that album?
Well, you have two slightly better albums, that’s what…
Houses of The Holy:
As well as just replacing three songs on Houses of the Holy I had a play around with the tracklist to make it more engaging… pushing the dreamy and beautiful The Rain Song closer to the end where it feels better served and bringing the haunting and strangely ahead-of-it’s-time No Quarter forward to give the middle of the album more power and gravitas. I also keep The Rover as the second track on the album (as it appeared on Physical Graffiti) and try to keep alive the Led Zeppelin tradition of finishing things off with a rootsy stomp with Black Country Woman.
Here’s my “Special Edition” of the album:
1. The Song Remains The Same
2. The Rover
3. Over The Hills And Far Away
4. No Quarter
5. The Ocean
6. Houses Of The Holy
7. The Rain Song
8. Black Country Woman
Physical Graffiti:
The sleeker version of Physical Graffiti has a faster pace, a heightened intensity and a significant musical consistency that the standard Physical Graffiti lacks. The things that bothered me about the album before just don’t stand out so much anymore…. basically the songs sound like they belong together and the “filler” has been trimmed. I understand that just because an album is shorter it does not always mean it will feel shorter, however the original extra seven tracks just seemed to weigh the whole thing down to the point that sometimes, when I played it, the album felt like it was wheezing on the floor.
Here’s how my shortened and preferred version runs:
1. Custard Pie
2. In My Time Of Dying
3. Trampled Under Foot
4. Kashmir
5. In The Light
6. Ten Years Gone
7. The Wanton Song
8. Sick Again
I often feel guilty when I tamper with the intended flow of an album (no matter how much I disagree with it), but in this instance it just feels right.
Give it a go, it’s interesting and fun.
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