Up in the Mountains

I wasn't quite sure what to expect from George Clooney's latest film, The American, and I probably wouldn't have gone to see it had I not got a free ticket for the preview but it came across as being very similar to the last film of his that I saw (Up in the Air) but with a much prettier backdrop. In both films, Clooney plays a character whose job makes it nigh-on impossible for him to have friends or get close to people--in Up in the Air, he plays someone who travels around to fire people and in The American, he plays someone who travels around to fire guns at people (and also make the guns). In both, though, there are women who break through his barriers and make life more complicated from him.

The American opens in a bleak, snowy Swedish landscape and after a short shoot-out resulting in several deaths, Clooney's character hot-tails it to Rome to await his next assignment, which turns out to be going to a small village perched in the mountains of Abruzzo and to rendezvous with a woman named Mathilde who, it transpires, needs him to make a very specific kind of gun. Clooney's boss warns him not to make any more friends but he ends up growing close first to the village priest and then to his favourite prostitute, Clara, and promptly falls for the latter and decides to get out of the hired assassin/gunsmith, which is, of course, easier said than done.

As with Up in the Air, the point where Clooney's character loses his edge and lets someone in is the point where the film starts to lose its momentum and its way, although in the former, the character seems to have the job that he does because he wants to isolate himself from people, while in the latter, he is forced to isolate himself from people because of the job that he does. There are twists and potential betrayals right until the end but nothing mind-blowing and the motivations of some of the characters are confusing and not properly explained.

Overall, it was a solid film, although at times it seemed to work better as an advert for the tourist board of Abruzzo than as a thriller. As the Aussie sitting next to me put it, "That was a bloody beautiful way of disguising soft porn." And I bet Nespresso are disappointed that of all the coffee Clooney's character drinks in the film, none of it is Nespresso.

The Girl Who Loved To Eat Pizza

Tonight, I saw the third part of the film adaptation of Stieg Larsson's Millennium Trilogy. In it, Lisbeth Salander, a 27-year-old with the body weight of a child and a lifelong struggle against a conspiracy to make her eat, makes a discovery that could end her eating disorder: she really likes pizza. [MINOR SPOILERS MAY FOLLOW] Of course, the film was actually The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets' Nest and involves the dénouement of an incredibly complicated series of plots, conspiracies, murders, rapes, lies and hacking, which centres around Lisbeth, the eponymous girl.

However, she does also like pizza and when she wakes up in hospital having been shot in the head and having dug herself out of a makeshift grave, her cute, sympathetic doctor asks why she isn't eating and she tells him that the food is bad and asks if she can have pizza instead. Because he likes her, he arranges a special delivery, which she soon wolfs down. Towards the end of the film, she is seen waiting in a take-out pizza restaurant. Yes, she really does like pizza.

This is somewhat beside the point but it still made me laugh that such a tough person could have such a weakness for pizza. Perhaps it was the dialogue wasn't translated very well but other scenes felt a little clunky too. "That seems like a very big tattoo on your back," sez the cute doctor. Lisbeth doesn't respond but proceeds to show him just how big. "Wow, did it hurt? Did it take a long time?" No response. Then, because he has been very nice to her and she doesn't really know how to say thank you, she adds, "Yes, it hurt and it took a long time." The clunkiness in part comes from Lisbeth's abrupt and often abrasive manner and her inability to relate to anyone very well but still feels a little awkward at times.

As for the film, it was, like its predecessors, exciting and well paced--I didn't object to it being 2.5 hours long--and unlike the books, it felt like a more satisfying end to the trilogy. This is partly because the books were in need of a good edit and this was particularly true of the third, which wasted a lot of pages with excessive detail about the Swedish legal and political systems and complicated and often confusing sub-plots: new romances, information about hyper-detailed security systems, and so on. All three films were good on the editing front, cutting out a lot of the unnecessary or less important plots and focusing on the Girl (and the Man Who Wanted To Help Her). The books meanwhile, seemed to be trying to highlight something grander but didn't do a very good job of it.

Now we just have to wait and see what David Fincher will make of them, although having spent seven hours watching the original films and many more hours reading the books, I'm not sure I want to invest any more time in this series. Erica Albright was fairly feisty but I'm not quite sure she can compare to Noomi Rapace.

NB: No hornets were harmed in the making of this film.

NYC: Au Revoir, Nouvelle York

State plates spotted: 38
Mad Men locations visited: 4

After an action-packed birthday, I awoke on Monday feeling completely out of sorts, so much so that I had to drop out of the planned trip to walk over Brooklyn Bridge followed by a big breakfast to celebrate Maman's birthday in favour of resting up in bed. I did make it out to lunch at the Trattoria dell'Arte although to the waiter's bemusement, I didn't even eat the bread, delicious as it usually is, let alone the pizza or "parmesan and prosciutto muffins—just out of the oven."

A last wander around Manhattan and a last bit of shopping was all I could manage before it was time to head to the airport. I was extremely grateful to be flying Club as seven hours in economy in my weakened state would not have been fun.

Today, of course, it was back to the office and back to another few months in London Town before it's time to escape again. Normally, I love living in London but somehow, after five days in New York, it always feels like it's lost its lustre. And not just because of the inferior shops. Still, I'm sure I'll be back again before too long.

NYC: Three Cubed

State plates spotted: 36
Mad Men locations visited: 4

As my brother put it in his birthday card to me today, I have now entered my ante-pre-upper-mid-diminished-LATE twenties. Although I'm not a big fan of birthdays (well, mine anyway), today turned out to be pretty good.

After the run, we hot-tailed it down to the Meatpacking District for birthday brunch at the Standard Grill. It was so warm and sunny that as we sat on the bench outside waiting for a table, I was feeling hot even in my short-sleeved top; unheard of in November. I felt fortified by the pancakes with bacon and maple syrup, but unlike the others, I couldn't manage a cocktail; even the Virgin Smash (lime, cucumber, mint, sugar syrup) I had was slightly tough going—probably because my stomach suspected another cocktail.

We walked off lunch on the High Line and then my brother and I wandered through the Village to SoHo for a little bit of shopping before it was time to meet up at the Rockefeller.

We had booked a slot on the Top of the Rock for 3.45, about an hour before sunset and we all took plenty of photos over the course of the next hour while we waited for the sun to set and the lights to come on (blue and white today for World Diabetes Day). Then my dear family sang happy birthday and presented me with cupcakes from Magnolia Bakery.

In the evening, my dad had booked us all tickets for Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson, a former off-Broadway musical that has recently been promoted to Broadway and gives the Jesus Christ Superstar treatment to America's seventh president. I was somewhat dubious of some of the accolades on the website—Time Out said it was "insanely funny," for example—but actually it was great. Really funny, some great songs (if you've ever wanted to see Martin van Buren, James Monroe and John Quincy Adams camped up to the max in ruffs and pink tuxedos, shaking their thang to Spice Up Your Life by the Spice Girls, this is the show to see) and some good acting.

I don't know very much about this period of American history and I suspect we missed some of the jokes but I hardly noticed. With Jackson portrayed as the man who will save democracy and bring power to the American people, putting the stuffy old Republicans in their place, it was easy to see the contemporary parallels here. And of course, we bought the soundtrack!

Now, thankfully, my birthday is over for another year and so now I just need to make it through Maman's tomorrow.

NYC: Manicures, Mad Men and Macau

State plates spotted: 32
Mad Men locations visited: 4

Post-run yesterday, we all headed for Bloomie Nails, our favourite manicure place, so Mum and I could get manicures and Dad a pedicure. Afterwards, I did a little shopping and then walked to 405 Madison Avenue—according to Time Out the address of the Sterling Cooper offices but now a Chase bank.

We went uptown for a great burger at Shake Shack—fortunately, Maman ordered a peanut butter shake so I could try some of hers; I wouldn't have managed my own—and then a browse of Green Flea, a flea and craft market.

I then received an early birthday present: a new camera, as recommended by David Pogue and hurried home to charge it in time for cocktails on the glorious rooftop bar of the Peninsula Hotel. I hadn't even learned to use most of the settings on the S95 but it already takes amazing pictures so I'm very happy.

Then, it was dinner with some family friends at Bar Americain where I just had time for pumpkin soup and a lovely filet mignon before we headed down to TriBeCa, where we happened upon B Flat, a cool, jazz-themed basement bar in Tribeca where I tried an appropriate Autumn Leaves. Afterwards we joined some friends in Macau, a cool bar just up the street; Josh Hartnett was in recently but not last night, sadly.

Thanks to subway incompetence, I didn't make it home until 2.30 and was up at 8.30 this morning to run. In the circumstances (four cocktails and a glass of wine), I don't feel too bad.

NYC: Tough To Find as New Boots

State plates spotted: 22
Mad Men locations visited: 3

The shopping curse has at last been lifted. Cue sighs of relief all round. Yesterday morning, my mum, my brother and I made our way down to Dad's new offices near the Empire State Building via assorted shops on Broadway and 6th Avenue. I've never been very good at shopping under pressure or with company and by the time we were due at the offices, I was stuck in the shoe hall in Macy's waiting for the boots I'd commanded to materialise. I'd already seen a nice pair uptown but decided to hold out for a better offer and indeed, I found some I liked more in Macy's but then didn't have time to buy them.

We went to Fanelli's for lunch where I resisted a burger in favour of their yummy pumpkin ravioli. Bizarrely, if you order a (traditional) lemonade at the bar, they tell you they don't have it but they'll serve it to you with your food. Afterwards, I went solo in SoHo and at last managed to buy some clothes, including a few tops, a skirt and some Lululemon running leggings. I almost bought a nice, long-sleeved green top in Lululemon but in order to "make it more feminine" they had added a ruffle. Bizarrely, the ruffle was down the spine so as I told the charming guy in the changing rooms, "I felt like a Stegosaurus." Of course, then the lady sales assistant turned round, also wearing the Steg top but in black and asked whether I thought she looked like a dinosaur too. "No, of course not."

After visiting a few shoe shops, it transpired that the boots I'd tried on in Macy's were hot property as they seemed to be sold out everywhere. I hurried back to Macy's and flagged down a sales person and asked them to get the boots back out in my size. I was lucky as a woman asked for the same pair in my size and was told there were no more. And they were on sale too.

I had time for a quick coffee at Joe on Waverly Place, taking time to admire the buildings on the junction of Waverly and 6th—AKA Don Draper's bachelor pad in the latest series of Mad Men; there is no blue plaque yet though. I then met a friend at the wonderful Sweet Revenge where I ordered their speciality cupcake, the Sweet Revenge, which consisted of peanut butter cake with chocolate filling and peanut butter frosting. It was paired with an Argentinian red--delicious. As not enough eating had been done yet, it was then dinner time and I joined the parents at Trecolori near Times Square, a trattoria with friendly waiters and very good Italian food.

Oddly, given that it was 16 degrees and sunny yesterday, there were large heaps of snow lying around, some in wheelbarrows, as well as what looked like a film crew. They were filming a new Jim Carrey movie, Mr Popper's Penguins; not exactly Clive or Matt Damon...

NYC: Manhattan Follies

State plates spotted: 12

Mad Men locations visited: 2

After a relatively eventless flight (other than delays thanks to the two-minute silence for Remembrance Day), we made it to JFK, along with Tamara Beckwith, just after 2 pm. It then took over an hour to get into the city thanks to the remnants of the Veterans’ Day parade. The only evidence of Veterans’ Day I saw was a Hooters billboard but anyway.          

As per usual, after check-in, we headed straight to the shops but—oh noes—neither J. Crew nor Anthropologie had anything that tempted me enough to try on. Don’t get me wrong, I will probably end up buying things from both shops eventually but having spent several months talking myself out of shopping, it was a bit of an anti-climax to have to talk myself into purchases. There was too much sale stuff for a start (which I usually dislike because it’s usually on sale for a reason—it didn’t sell as well as the nice stuff) and then too much glittery, party-ish apparel, while I wanted basics. Walking back to the hotel, we passed the NYAC but I didn’t see Don Draper, post-swim, sadly.

Fortunately, there was no such disappointment at P.J. Clarke's, stop number two on the Mad Men tour. The bar was absolutely rammed and there was barely enough room to sip a cocktail, let alone swing a cat, as we were pressed against the jukebox. We didn’t have to wait too long though and I was soon eating a perfectly medium rare bacon cheeseburger (with the tomato, lettuce, et al. on the side). Mum was similarly glad to have a glass of Merlot after the male members of the family accidentally bought some “red wine product” (alcohol content 6%) rather than red wine proper from the local deli. Error.

This morning, I woke at seven and grabbed a coffee from the café at our hotel (which was nice if expensive at $2.75 for a single espresso) before travelling one block to Central Park. It was a gorgeous morning: cool but bright and sunny and I made a glorious lap of the six-mile jogging track before nipping down to 52^nd Street and Ess-a-Bagel to fuel up.