It's been a while since I've written about Miliband, and he was initially pretty quiet after he became Foreign Secretary, but he's been in the news quite a bit recently, especially since the Russia/Georgia stand-off started.
David Hearst in the Guardian today was damning, deriding him as 'blissfully unaware' of the history between the two countries, and accusing him of 'stepping blindly and foolishly into a minefield' and 'making vacuous commitments to a country he knows nothing about, and which he is in no position to honour'.
The blogger AppallingStrangeness is brutal, asking 'Does anyone else feel slightly embarrassed when they read about David Miliband prancing about on the international stage?' And goes on to describe him as having the 'general charisma of a snail crushed underfoot'. One of the most important jobs in government has been given to someone 'the political equivalent of Adrian Mole'.
Certainly he's seemed clearly out of his depth, and of course it's the first time he's been tested in a significant international situation of geopolitical importance. He's persistently labelled a 'Blairite' and therefore someone with leadership ambitions and he was suspected of mounting a leadership challenge recently after an article he wrote for the Guardian which didn't even mention Brown. With the undoubted forthcoming demise of the Government in the next couple of years it's difficult to see where he goes next - down with the sinking ship, I suspect. Whatever happens, he's dead meat, though young enough to rise from the ashes in the distant future, though in what form - who can say?
Thursday 28 August 2008
Tuesday 26 August 2008
Man on Wire
I went to see this at the cinema the other day - I'd read the fantastic reviews and decided it must be seen. And the reviews were right, it was worth it.
Philippe Petit walked across a tightrope strung between the World Trade Centre's twin towers in 1974, and the film sketches the background, with interviews with Petit and the people who helped him. That's it, basically, but the film is so much more than that brief precis. The ultimate fate of the twin towers is never mentioned - it didn't need to be, but it's there in the background, all the time, especially as there is quite a bit of footage in the film of their construction.
The film gives a fascinating glimpse into life in 1974 - 34 years ago, a lifetime. No-one filmed Petit's feat; people didn't do that kind of thing then, the cameras would have been too difficult to conceal anyway. Now someone would pluck a mobile out of their pocket and capture the whole thing - if they could get up there in the first place, sceurity, although pretty tight then, would surely be impenetrable nowadays.
Petit is an engaging character, and it was easy to see how he managed to bring others on board to help him, but it was startling to see the contrast between his recollections and those of his friends. He told the story as a knd of personal challenge, but they remembered their terror of being discovered, the tension surrounding the whole affair. petit became a huge celebrity at the end, but the others disappeared into obscurity. Such is the nature of fame, I guess.
There was film footage of petit practising in what looked like a back garden, and of his other escapades, including his tightrope walk between the towers of Notre Dame in Paris. Yes, he's clearly a publicity seeker, but a very brave man. Self-obsessed, yes, but we still need people like that. The same applies to all those great Olympians, such as Steve Redgrave. You can ask 'what is the point?', as some journalists have written in the wake of the fantastic British success at the Beijing Olympics this month, but such killjoys deserve oblivion.
People like Petit add to the sum of human greatness, so thanks, Philippe.
Philippe Petit walked across a tightrope strung between the World Trade Centre's twin towers in 1974, and the film sketches the background, with interviews with Petit and the people who helped him. That's it, basically, but the film is so much more than that brief precis. The ultimate fate of the twin towers is never mentioned - it didn't need to be, but it's there in the background, all the time, especially as there is quite a bit of footage in the film of their construction.
The film gives a fascinating glimpse into life in 1974 - 34 years ago, a lifetime. No-one filmed Petit's feat; people didn't do that kind of thing then, the cameras would have been too difficult to conceal anyway. Now someone would pluck a mobile out of their pocket and capture the whole thing - if they could get up there in the first place, sceurity, although pretty tight then, would surely be impenetrable nowadays.
Petit is an engaging character, and it was easy to see how he managed to bring others on board to help him, but it was startling to see the contrast between his recollections and those of his friends. He told the story as a knd of personal challenge, but they remembered their terror of being discovered, the tension surrounding the whole affair. petit became a huge celebrity at the end, but the others disappeared into obscurity. Such is the nature of fame, I guess.
There was film footage of petit practising in what looked like a back garden, and of his other escapades, including his tightrope walk between the towers of Notre Dame in Paris. Yes, he's clearly a publicity seeker, but a very brave man. Self-obsessed, yes, but we still need people like that. The same applies to all those great Olympians, such as Steve Redgrave. You can ask 'what is the point?', as some journalists have written in the wake of the fantastic British success at the Beijing Olympics this month, but such killjoys deserve oblivion.
People like Petit add to the sum of human greatness, so thanks, Philippe.
Wednesday 13 August 2008
Charlton Heston
I recorded El Cid recently on video - it's a popular film for filling the Saturday afternoon schedules, and I noticed that it's on yet again next week. So I whiled away a wet Sunday afternoon last week by watching it.
I really don't know why I love Charlton Heston, his right-wing views in recent years were a bit scary, but that doesn't make you a bad actor; he died this year from Alzhiemer's, but he was 88, so had a good innings, as they say. And in spite of becoming a leading light in the NRA he was a very early public advocate of civil rights, long before it became fashionable. So, a fascinatingly contradictory character.
Maybe it's because Ben Hur was the first wide-screen spectacular I'd ever seen. I was at an impressionable age, about 10 or 11, and it had an enormous impact on me. It was in the days when cinemas had only one screen, and it was huge. Ben Hur was in Todd AO as well, so it really was a massive experience for me.
CH was sold into slavery, endured the galleys, was rescued by the Romans, and became a hero in the arenas of Imperial Rome; he then escaped, bumped into Jesus who healed his sister and mother from leprosy, and found his long-lost love after his years away - what a story! I can't think of any, any actor, past or present, who could have carried it off. But especially now - Tom Cruise? Harrison Ford? I don't think so.
There's something about his expression - it's the stricken integrity in his eyes - you just know that he's always going to do the right thing, and in El Cid he has this quality in spades. Again, he endures all manner of hardships and humiliations, but prevails. The final scene has passed into cinema iconography, he's dead, but leads his men to victory while strapped to his horse on a Spanish beach. Tremendous even by Heston's standards!
He went on to be Michelangelo in The Agony and the Ecstasy, and John the Baptist in The Greatest Story Ever Told, then he took a different tack and made Will Penny, one of the very first 'revisionist' westerns.
He went on to make some fascinating films - science-fiction such as Soylent Green and The Omega Man, both excellent, and then his piece de resistance, Planet of the Apes. What a career!
I really don't know why I love Charlton Heston, his right-wing views in recent years were a bit scary, but that doesn't make you a bad actor; he died this year from Alzhiemer's, but he was 88, so had a good innings, as they say. And in spite of becoming a leading light in the NRA he was a very early public advocate of civil rights, long before it became fashionable. So, a fascinatingly contradictory character.
Maybe it's because Ben Hur was the first wide-screen spectacular I'd ever seen. I was at an impressionable age, about 10 or 11, and it had an enormous impact on me. It was in the days when cinemas had only one screen, and it was huge. Ben Hur was in Todd AO as well, so it really was a massive experience for me.
CH was sold into slavery, endured the galleys, was rescued by the Romans, and became a hero in the arenas of Imperial Rome; he then escaped, bumped into Jesus who healed his sister and mother from leprosy, and found his long-lost love after his years away - what a story! I can't think of any, any actor, past or present, who could have carried it off. But especially now - Tom Cruise? Harrison Ford? I don't think so.
There's something about his expression - it's the stricken integrity in his eyes - you just know that he's always going to do the right thing, and in El Cid he has this quality in spades. Again, he endures all manner of hardships and humiliations, but prevails. The final scene has passed into cinema iconography, he's dead, but leads his men to victory while strapped to his horse on a Spanish beach. Tremendous even by Heston's standards!
He went on to be Michelangelo in The Agony and the Ecstasy, and John the Baptist in The Greatest Story Ever Told, then he took a different tack and made Will Penny, one of the very first 'revisionist' westerns.
He went on to make some fascinating films - science-fiction such as Soylent Green and The Omega Man, both excellent, and then his piece de resistance, Planet of the Apes. What a career!
Thursday 7 August 2008
Summer Hours
This was a lovely little film. It was definitely something that probably only someone over a certain age would really appreciate, and the cinema was pretty full of middle-aged people, and myself and the friend who accompanied me fitted in well. But then you would only really 'get' it if you'd had to deal with ageing parents, the dissolution of families as everyone carves out their individual lives, and the fractured nature of modern adult life.
It's one of those closely-observed portraits of modern bourgeois life that the French do so well - British versions, for example, Mike Leigh films, always seem to be satirical, laughing at middle-class pretensions. The French don't seem to be as hung up on class as us, and use such films to examine human nature and behaviour.
Anyway, Summer Hours was a treat. It's Helene's 70th birthday, and her 3 grown-up children and their families gather together in her country house, the family home. Helene is devoted, even obsessed with the memory of her uncle, a celebrated painter, and his works. She's a gracious lady who holds court in her extremely comfortable and well-appointed residence, though we become aware pretty quickly that there is a deep-rooted tension between each family member.
Helene dies - and the remainder of the film chronicles the adult children's wranglings over what to do with the house. The eldest wants to keep the property and Helene's art collection as something with which to hold the family together, but it's clear that his younger siblings aren't interested. One is off to China with his family to work, and the other is going to live in New York. The family is falling apart, but at the end the next generation gather at the house with their friends. Olivier Asseyas, the director, isn't interested in portraying nostalgia, though, and everyone's choices are seen as valid. He sees that times change, so do people and families. Those of us with grown-up children know all too well that families fracture, however close they seem. Differences are real, and often irreconcilable. We do our best, but everyone has their own very individual path.
I watched the latest instalment in the genealogy series on BBC last night, Who Do You Think You Are? It's an object lesson in the fissuring of families - sometimes events intercede, such as war and revolution, and there's nothing we can do about it.
Anyway, a film that has stayed with me. The final scenes, in which the children of the siblings and their friends hold an impromptu party at Helene's house, is filled with optimism. They run wild and care nothing for her art collection, but they are the future, like it or not.
It's one of those closely-observed portraits of modern bourgeois life that the French do so well - British versions, for example, Mike Leigh films, always seem to be satirical, laughing at middle-class pretensions. The French don't seem to be as hung up on class as us, and use such films to examine human nature and behaviour.
Anyway, Summer Hours was a treat. It's Helene's 70th birthday, and her 3 grown-up children and their families gather together in her country house, the family home. Helene is devoted, even obsessed with the memory of her uncle, a celebrated painter, and his works. She's a gracious lady who holds court in her extremely comfortable and well-appointed residence, though we become aware pretty quickly that there is a deep-rooted tension between each family member.
Helene dies - and the remainder of the film chronicles the adult children's wranglings over what to do with the house. The eldest wants to keep the property and Helene's art collection as something with which to hold the family together, but it's clear that his younger siblings aren't interested. One is off to China with his family to work, and the other is going to live in New York. The family is falling apart, but at the end the next generation gather at the house with their friends. Olivier Asseyas, the director, isn't interested in portraying nostalgia, though, and everyone's choices are seen as valid. He sees that times change, so do people and families. Those of us with grown-up children know all too well that families fracture, however close they seem. Differences are real, and often irreconcilable. We do our best, but everyone has their own very individual path.
I watched the latest instalment in the genealogy series on BBC last night, Who Do You Think You Are? It's an object lesson in the fissuring of families - sometimes events intercede, such as war and revolution, and there's nothing we can do about it.
Anyway, a film that has stayed with me. The final scenes, in which the children of the siblings and their friends hold an impromptu party at Helene's house, is filled with optimism. They run wild and care nothing for her art collection, but they are the future, like it or not.
Tuesday 5 August 2008
Snow
I took ages to read this book, but persisted, and it was worth it. I found it on my shelf - I hadn't bought it myself so wondered where it had come from. Intrigued, I decided to give it a go. It turned out that it belonged to one of my sons, and he'd left it with me without telling me. A friend who'd read it also recommended it, so I felt I had to.
First of all, it gave me a window on Turkish politics, something I knew absolutely nothing about. I was vaguely aware of controversy over headscarves for women, but that was all. Headscarves are central to Snow but it's about much more. Orhan Pamuk, the author, who I'm ashamed to say I'd never heard of, is one of Turkey's most celebrated writers, and of course, I now see his name everywhere.
I won't attempt to describe the events in the book, it's too dense and complex for a brief precis, but to cut a very long story short, it follows the progress of an emigre writer and sometime poet, Ka, who is commissioned to write an article on the seemingly large numbers of girls in the snow-bound town, Kars, where he grew up, who are committing suicide because, apparently, they have been forbidden by Turkish law to wear headscarves. A lot happens, which I won't pretend to describe, but the events in the book take place while the town is blanketed by thick snow, and this metaphor provides the central organising principle behind the book.
There are several themes running through the book - that of the impact of exile; Ka is viewed with suspicion, as tainted and polluted by Western values, yet there is enormous interest in him and he acquires something of an exalted status almost immediately.
Ka battle throughout with his atheism and the resurgent Islamism he finds all around him. Turkey is a country riven by conflict, but this makes it a vibrant, questioning country, in ferment. It's torn asunder by those who want it to becoome a fundamentalist state, and those who want it to be accepted into the EU, and become fully westernised. There's a much better review here which will relate the events in the book more effectively than I can, as it really is extremely complex, and I don't want to do the book a disservice.
I must say, though, that the translation isn't great. it's by the journalist Maureen Freely, who is British, but grew up in Istanbul. I suppose it's descriptive rather than literary, but I felt all the way though that I was missing a great deal - it seemed incomplete somehow. The prose didn't sing. Translation's tricky, but when it works, it's wonderful and there are some great examples. This isn't one of them, but the book still made me want to find out more. I now read news articles about Turkey in the paper with great interest, and it was Snow that gave me this. Not many books do that. A great achievement.
First of all, it gave me a window on Turkish politics, something I knew absolutely nothing about. I was vaguely aware of controversy over headscarves for women, but that was all. Headscarves are central to Snow but it's about much more. Orhan Pamuk, the author, who I'm ashamed to say I'd never heard of, is one of Turkey's most celebrated writers, and of course, I now see his name everywhere.
I won't attempt to describe the events in the book, it's too dense and complex for a brief precis, but to cut a very long story short, it follows the progress of an emigre writer and sometime poet, Ka, who is commissioned to write an article on the seemingly large numbers of girls in the snow-bound town, Kars, where he grew up, who are committing suicide because, apparently, they have been forbidden by Turkish law to wear headscarves. A lot happens, which I won't pretend to describe, but the events in the book take place while the town is blanketed by thick snow, and this metaphor provides the central organising principle behind the book.
There are several themes running through the book - that of the impact of exile; Ka is viewed with suspicion, as tainted and polluted by Western values, yet there is enormous interest in him and he acquires something of an exalted status almost immediately.
Ka battle throughout with his atheism and the resurgent Islamism he finds all around him. Turkey is a country riven by conflict, but this makes it a vibrant, questioning country, in ferment. It's torn asunder by those who want it to becoome a fundamentalist state, and those who want it to be accepted into the EU, and become fully westernised. There's a much better review here which will relate the events in the book more effectively than I can, as it really is extremely complex, and I don't want to do the book a disservice.
I must say, though, that the translation isn't great. it's by the journalist Maureen Freely, who is British, but grew up in Istanbul. I suppose it's descriptive rather than literary, but I felt all the way though that I was missing a great deal - it seemed incomplete somehow. The prose didn't sing. Translation's tricky, but when it works, it's wonderful and there are some great examples. This isn't one of them, but the book still made me want to find out more. I now read news articles about Turkey in the paper with great interest, and it was Snow that gave me this. Not many books do that. A great achievement.
The Dark Knight
I saw The Dark Knight a couple of days ago - it's the sequel to Batman Begins which came out in 2005. Both reboot the franchise, which had started promisingly in 1989 with the Tim Burton films, then degenerated horribly, reaching its nadir with Batman and Robin. In didn't see that one, but it's dreadfulness was legendary, nearly scuppering George Clooney's caree before it had properly begun.
Anyway, I thought Batman Begins was tremendous, and I enjoyed it enormously. For a start, Christian Bale (one of my favourites) played the caped crusader, and it possessed a compelling atmosphere of dingy menace. I found the DVD on my shelf - I think it belongs to one of my sons - so I took the opportunity to see it again to get myself into the mood for The Dark Knight.
The Dark Knight will, first of all, go down in history as one of Heath Ledger's last films before he was found dead from an accidental overdose of prescription drugs. I always hesitate to use the word 'tragedy', and in the scheme of things, a well-heeled Hollywood/Aussie star crashing and burning is not the most pressing of issues. But Ledger had been showing signs for a while that he was moving away from routine leading man parts (see his performance in I'm Not There) and was becoming an extremely interesting actor, choosing parts which stretched and challenged him.
His performance as the Joker is superb; seriously scary. He really is someone with no moral compass on any level and knows it: 'Do I look like I have a plan? I’m just a dog chasing cars…I wouldn’t know what to do with one if I caught it. I just…do things.' My only criticism is there's not quite enough of him, but whenever he does appear the temperature visibly rises. His make-up is not designed to be amusing, but cadaverous, as if he's just been dug up.
Batman isn't much in evidence in this film - he's shown as seriously weakened by the Joker, and in many scenes, he's vulnerable and damaged. Bale has refined his portrayal somewhat, darkening and deepening his voice whenever he dons mask and cape.
This film has proved pretty controversial in this country due to its 12A cerificate, which allows children of any age to see it if accompanied by an adult. Many believe it should have been a 15 - I don't know, I can see their point, but I know that I would have allowed my children to see it. I once discovered that one of my sons at the age of 4, back in the very early 80s when videos were only just beginning to invade private homes, had happily watched a copy of Dirty Harry round at a friend's house. The friend's father had bought it and allowed the children to see it. So what can you do? It hasn't turned him into a raging psychopath, just a lifelong Clint Eastwood fan! In the end, I believe that it's always down to the parents to create the kind of atmosphere and environment at home that can withstand assaults on their values.
Anyway, I don't know how long this incarnation of Batman can run. Bale is certainly capable of much more, as is Christopher Nolan, who directed both films. Bale has been catapulted into 'A'-list territory, so we'll see - anyway, in my view an excellent summer blockbuster, though the cinema was pretty empty when I went. It's dark, dark, dark, both visually and thematically, perhaps too much so for popular taste, but apparently it's been a huge hit financially, and we all know, that's what matters.
.
Anyway, I thought Batman Begins was tremendous, and I enjoyed it enormously. For a start, Christian Bale (one of my favourites) played the caped crusader, and it possessed a compelling atmosphere of dingy menace. I found the DVD on my shelf - I think it belongs to one of my sons - so I took the opportunity to see it again to get myself into the mood for The Dark Knight.
The Dark Knight will, first of all, go down in history as one of Heath Ledger's last films before he was found dead from an accidental overdose of prescription drugs. I always hesitate to use the word 'tragedy', and in the scheme of things, a well-heeled Hollywood/Aussie star crashing and burning is not the most pressing of issues. But Ledger had been showing signs for a while that he was moving away from routine leading man parts (see his performance in I'm Not There) and was becoming an extremely interesting actor, choosing parts which stretched and challenged him.
His performance as the Joker is superb; seriously scary. He really is someone with no moral compass on any level and knows it: 'Do I look like I have a plan? I’m just a dog chasing cars…I wouldn’t know what to do with one if I caught it. I just…do things.' My only criticism is there's not quite enough of him, but whenever he does appear the temperature visibly rises. His make-up is not designed to be amusing, but cadaverous, as if he's just been dug up.
Batman isn't much in evidence in this film - he's shown as seriously weakened by the Joker, and in many scenes, he's vulnerable and damaged. Bale has refined his portrayal somewhat, darkening and deepening his voice whenever he dons mask and cape.
This film has proved pretty controversial in this country due to its 12A cerificate, which allows children of any age to see it if accompanied by an adult. Many believe it should have been a 15 - I don't know, I can see their point, but I know that I would have allowed my children to see it. I once discovered that one of my sons at the age of 4, back in the very early 80s when videos were only just beginning to invade private homes, had happily watched a copy of Dirty Harry round at a friend's house. The friend's father had bought it and allowed the children to see it. So what can you do? It hasn't turned him into a raging psychopath, just a lifelong Clint Eastwood fan! In the end, I believe that it's always down to the parents to create the kind of atmosphere and environment at home that can withstand assaults on their values.
Anyway, I don't know how long this incarnation of Batman can run. Bale is certainly capable of much more, as is Christopher Nolan, who directed both films. Bale has been catapulted into 'A'-list territory, so we'll see - anyway, in my view an excellent summer blockbuster, though the cinema was pretty empty when I went. It's dark, dark, dark, both visually and thematically, perhaps too much so for popular taste, but apparently it's been a huge hit financially, and we all know, that's what matters.
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