I am a sucker for films that lure me in with great musical choices in the trailer. Take Miss Bala, for example, which I thought was a good film but which I may never have ended up watching had it not been for the use of Saint Saviour's gorgeous song This Ain't No Hymn in its trailer. Similarly, I hadn't paid much attention to the posters and ads for Chan-wook "Oldboy" Park's new film Stoker until I caught the trailer recently and was struck by the use of the old Death in Vegas song, Dirge, to which I listened a lot back in the late '90s. Having read nothing about the film, based on its title and the über-gothic poster, I thought it would be some sort of biopic of Bram Stoker. Although the title, which is also the name of the family in the film, won't be a coincidence, my guess wasn't very close.
As the film opens, it is the 18th birthday of India Stoker (Mia Wasikowska) and her beloved father and best friend Richard (Dermot Mulroney) has just died in a mysterious car crash. Her relationship with her emotionally unstable mother Evie (Nicole Kidman), strained at best of times, becomes positively frosty at the funeral when Richard's long-lost younger brother Charlie (Matthew Goode) rocks up in his swanky convertible, not wearing black. Evie takes to the charismatic and intense Charlie immediately, and it isn't long before the three of them are dancing a tense little pas de trois around Stoker Towers (a beautiful, gothic mansion, complete with creepy basement, natch).
India has always been a loner, preferring to spend her days hunting in the woods with her father or playing the piano, rather than hanging out with her fellow pupils, who tease her for being weird. She resents her mother's budding relationship with Charlie, but is it because of the betrayal of her father so soon after his death or because she is jealous of her mother? There are other mysteries too. Even if Uncle Charlie has been "doing Europe" for over a decade, why has India never met him or even heard of him before? And why does her Aunt Gwen (Jacki Weaver) seem to hate him so much when she comes to visit? And who would have a grand, beautifully designed house with such a scary basement?
As the film develops, some of these questions are answered, and we begin to learn more about the Stokers, their secrets and their pasts. It isn't the kind of film where you are confronted with one huge plot twist after another. Instead, Park drags you in gradually, making you complicit in the characters' deeds and misdeeds. You think you see where things are going fairly early on—anyone who has seen the trailer will know that Charlie is not what he seems—but you can't be certain that there aren't other explanations until much later on. Not least because of the number of gothic hat-tips and call-outs that have been slipped into the movie, some of which are just that—clever references—and are, to some extent red herrings. There is more than a shade of Shadow of a Doubt in Stoker, and the trailer points more towards Lolita than Twilight.
Park's unique directorial style is fantastic in Stoker. The film is also visually impressive and in some ways reminds me of To the Wonder, what with the long, languorous shot of cornfields and flowing, pastel dresses blowing in the breeze. There is no twirling or dancing in Stoker, though. Just plenty of dark, intense stares, simmering resentment and oozing secrets. Oh, and a lovely Philip Glass score composed especially for the film. The story is told with a lot of flashbacks, dreams and possible hallucinations. Sometimes we will revisit a scene we have just seen but with slightly different details or outcomes. We mainly see through India's eyes, but it is unclear how much we can trust her story. She walks a fine line between being powerful and wise way beyond her years and being fragile, petulant and childish.
I read that Jodie Foster, Colin Firth and Carey Mulligan were originally cast as the three lead characters, and although I think they would have been even better, I thought all three leads were strong. I don't always like Nicole Kidman's performances, not least because she often plays very similar characters. Her Evie is perfectly brittle, martyred and just a tad unhinged; her diatribe to India, excepted in the trailer, isn't exactly that of a proud, loving mother, to say the least. Goode is also good, managing to make anything from putting away the ice cream to doing yard work seem seriously creepy. It is Wasikowska who steals the show, though, as a sort of Carrie White-meets-Oskar Schell in Wednesday Addams's clothing. India isn't always very nice and certainly isn't easy to understand, but Wasikowska allows us to empathise with her as her sexual awakening parallels her growing understanding of the secrets in her family's past. "We are not responsible for what we have come to be," she claims.
Stoker is a mysterious, slow-burning thriller, if that isn't too much of an oxymoron, and it isn't without its humorous touches. I was intrigued and engaged, and often surprised by the movie. I haven't seen Oldboy, but I'm now tempted to try it out.
28 February 2013
26 February 2013
The End of Innocence
Germany, spring 1945. As the German resistance begins to crumble against Allied forces, 14-year-old Lore (Saskia Rosendahl) is forced to lead her younger siblings on a 900-km journey from Bavaria to their grandmother's house in the north. Her Nazi father (Hans-Jochen Wagner) and mother (Ursina Lardi) have been imprisoned and the children are on their own, leaving Lore as the unwilling matriarch. She is, by turns, courageous and childish. She puts on a good front for her younger siblings, but she gets into petty fights with them.
After years of Hitler Youth, Lore is also a firm believer in Hitler's policies and she talks about him reverentially, almost as though he was her own father. She is taught not to question (Hier ist kein Warum, perhaps). It is for this reason that she makes an uncomfortable protagonist in Cate Shortland's new movie of the same name. We want to be sympathetic for the difficult task with which she has been charged, but when we are confronted with her uncompromisingly fascist beliefs, we hesitate. How much of what she believes and the way she acts her own fault, and how much of it is due to her upbringing? At what age are we old enough to take responsibility for the things we have always been taught are correct?
Keeping herself and a family alive on their epic journey is a struggle. They see sights they never thought they would have to face (the BBFC were right about the gory images), and have to do things they never thought they would have to do. Along the way, they meet a mysterious young man called Thomas (Kai Malina). Initially, he seems threatening, but after helping the family evade capture by some US soldiers, he travels with them, helping to feed them and protect them. Lore, who is having to face her budding sexuality as well as everything else that summer, is attracted to him, but she has also seen the Star of David on his papers and the thought of him touching her or even eating from the same rag goes against all she has ever been taught. Her younger siblings, meanwhile, are much more accepting of the enigmatic stranger.
Can Lore trust Thomas? Will the family make it to safety? There are deeper questions too, some of which remain partly unanswered—as her understanding of the world works collapses beneath her, will Lore forgive her parents for raising her as they did? Lore is a tricky film in many ways. I was utterly gripped throughout its 1h50 length and Rosendahl's début performance as a confused, conflicted teenager was impressive. Despite the very different settings, a number of the themes in Lore—love, betrayal, burgeoning sexuality—are similar to Shortland's previous film, Somersault. It also struck me as being an interesting counterpoint to Peter Weir's The Way Back. Lore doesn't always hang together perfectly, but it's an intriguing, thoughtful and ambitious work and one worth watching.
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Nele Trebs, Saskia Rosendahl, Mika Seidel and André Frid in Lore. Courtesy of Music Box Films. |
After years of Hitler Youth, Lore is also a firm believer in Hitler's policies and she talks about him reverentially, almost as though he was her own father. She is taught not to question (Hier ist kein Warum, perhaps). It is for this reason that she makes an uncomfortable protagonist in Cate Shortland's new movie of the same name. We want to be sympathetic for the difficult task with which she has been charged, but when we are confronted with her uncompromisingly fascist beliefs, we hesitate. How much of what she believes and the way she acts her own fault, and how much of it is due to her upbringing? At what age are we old enough to take responsibility for the things we have always been taught are correct?
Keeping herself and a family alive on their epic journey is a struggle. They see sights they never thought they would have to face (the BBFC were right about the gory images), and have to do things they never thought they would have to do. Along the way, they meet a mysterious young man called Thomas (Kai Malina). Initially, he seems threatening, but after helping the family evade capture by some US soldiers, he travels with them, helping to feed them and protect them. Lore, who is having to face her budding sexuality as well as everything else that summer, is attracted to him, but she has also seen the Star of David on his papers and the thought of him touching her or even eating from the same rag goes against all she has ever been taught. Her younger siblings, meanwhile, are much more accepting of the enigmatic stranger.
Can Lore trust Thomas? Will the family make it to safety? There are deeper questions too, some of which remain partly unanswered—as her understanding of the world works collapses beneath her, will Lore forgive her parents for raising her as they did? Lore is a tricky film in many ways. I was utterly gripped throughout its 1h50 length and Rosendahl's début performance as a confused, conflicted teenager was impressive. Despite the very different settings, a number of the themes in Lore—love, betrayal, burgeoning sexuality—are similar to Shortland's previous film, Somersault. It also struck me as being an interesting counterpoint to Peter Weir's The Way Back. Lore doesn't always hang together perfectly, but it's an intriguing, thoughtful and ambitious work and one worth watching.
24 February 2013
My Picks for the 2013 Academy Awards
The films in the running for this year's Oscars have covered topics as varied as mental illness, the abolition of slavery, degenerative illness and, er, the abolition of slavery. Oh, and a CGI tiger called Richard Parker. Facetiousness aside, in my 2012 movie round-up, I noted that last year hadn't felt like a very strong year for the cinema. There were lots of good movies, but not that many great ones. This may have been partly because most of the big Best Picture candidates hadn't been released in the UK yet, although I have now seen all but one (Beasts of the Southern Wilds).
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| Ben Affleck, John Goodman and Bryan Cranston at the Argo UK premiere |
Argo is easily my favourite film of the crop, with Django Unchained coming second on the enjoyment stakes. As I mentioned in my review, Zero Dark Thirty isn't the kind of film that you enjoy, but I did think it was a good film, and it gets joint third, along with another difficult-to-watch film, Amour (review to follow).
The Best Actor award is almost certainly going to go to Daniel Day-Lewis, but although I would give him A for effort, I wasn't that engaged by his portrayal of Abraham Lincoln. If for some reason the Academy does snub Day-Lewis, the award will probably go to Hugh Jackman's Valjean, not my pick of the nominees, Denzel Washington. Of the Best Supporting Actor nominees, I had a hard time choosing between Tommy Lee Jones and Christoph Waltz, who were both excellent. The former helped to keep me awake in the overly long and dry Lincoln, whereas the latter stole the show from a very strong cast in Django Unchained. Best Actress is going to be a tough award this year; the four I have seen in action were all excellent. I think Emmanuelle Riva in Amour should win, although I suspect it could go to Jennifer Lawrence.
The Best Director category caused me to stumble most; it would have been a lot easier to call if Ben Affleck had got the nomination he deserved. I've seen all of the nominated films apart from Beasts of the Southern Wild. I enjoyed The Life of Pi the most, but I'm not sure that makes it worthy of Best Director. I didn't really like what Spielberg did with Lincoln and Silver Linings Playbook. This leaves Amour, which I wasn't sure I would like. Michael Haneke's films often leave me feeling irritated. Actually, though, I thought Amour was great. Hard-going, of course, but a really well-made movie.
Best Picture: Argo [seen 8/9]
Best Director: Michael Haneke, Amour [seen 4/5]
Best Actor: Denzel Washington, Flight [seen 5/5]
Best Supporting Actor: Christoph Waltz, Django Unchained [seen 5/5]
Best Actress: Emmanuelle Riva, Amour [seen 4/5]
Best Supporting Actress: Anne Hathaway, Les Misérables [seen 4/5]
Best Adapted Screenplay: Argo [seen 4/5]
Best Original Screenplay: Django Unchained [seen 5/5]
23 February 2013
So Wonderfully Wonderfully Wonderfully Pretty
After my disappointment with The Tree of Life, you might think I would steer clear of Terrence Malick for a while, but when I saw the trailer for his latest movie, To the Wonder, last week, I thought it looked interesting. Besides, it stars Ben Affleck, Rachel McAdams, a Bond Girl and a Bond villain; how deep could it get? Pretty deep, it turned out, but I enjoyed it more than its predecessor. It's easy to see why, however, the Telegraph subeditor got confused and captioned a still from the movie as Tree of Wonder.
As the film opens, we see a happy couple skipping and dancing around Paris. As you do. They take a trip to Mont St Michel, a tiny, hilly island off the coast of Normandy, known in France as "the Wonder of the West." The couple climb the steps to the wonder ("Hey! That's the name of the movie") and fall more deeply in love with each other. They frolic on the silty beach near the island before returning to Paris. The woman (Olga Kurylenko) is a Ukrainian who has made her home in Paris. Her name is Marina, although we never hear her name in the movie. Nor do we hear the name of her lover Neil (Affleck), or most of the other characters. Judging by the production notes, the two UK press contacts for StudioCanal may have donated their names to the characters.
Marina also has a young daughter from a previous relationship, Tatiana (Tatiana Chiline), and when Marina decides to move to the US to be with Neil, Tatiana comes too, and for a while it looks like they might form a happy family of three. Neil is an environmental inspector. The production notes say he wanted to be a writer, but there is no evidence for this anywhere in the film. In fact, the production notes seem to be talking about an entirely different film, because we learn almost nothing about him: not his back story and not even what he thinks or wants. We find out a little more about Marina—mainly that she is erratic and unstable, by turns filled with love and a desire to dance and run through cornfields and laugh, and sad, bleak and difficult—but she isn't always all that likeable. She is more likeable when she's moving around—dancing, skipping or leaping—than when she's static and sad. Meanwhile, Neil bumps into an old friend (McAdams), nameless in the movie but called Jane in the credits, and Marina feels the need to confess to the lonely, expat local priest (Javier Bardem), although don't get me wrong: this is not Closer, by any means. That would require more of a plot. And some dialogue.
There is more of a storyline than in The Tree of Life, but we hear from the characters almost exclusively via wistful, dreamy voiceovers. Their inner monologues are certainly a lot more philosophical and vague than most people's. This would be less irritating if the film described in the production notes didn't sound more up my street: more action, less guesswork and more character development (read: some character development). To the Wonder is a very, very beautiful film, for sure. It's ethereal and Affleck and Kurylenko are really good together and it isn't their fault I'm such a philistine and want a little more context and dialogue in my films. It felt like a lot of McAdams' scenes had been cut—this film isn't about a love triangle—and I feel like cutting Bardem's character would have affected the theme but not the plot.
I don't need to be spoon fed, but our two leads were such ciphers that To the Wonder left me feeling frustrated. I wanted to know more about Marina and Neil. I wanted to be able to care about what happened to them and to be able to root for them, but as in I Give It a Year, I just couldn't. (In this film it was the long, sweeping shots of a beautiful woman dancing in various scenic—and less scenic, in the case of Target—locations, that distracted from the relationship rather than the crude humour of I Give It a Year.) On leaving the cinema, I was asked to fill in a questionnaire about my thoughts and expectations of the film. One question asked me to select which adjectives best described the movie; one was romantic. The production notes also summarize it as a "romantic drama." I would counter that it is neither romantic, nor very dramatic. Thought-provoking, gorgeously shot, sensitively acted, dreamy and melancholy would be a lot more accurate.
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| Neil (Ben Affleck) and Marina (Olga Kurylenko) frolicking near Mont St Michel in To the Wonder. Photo via here. |
As the film opens, we see a happy couple skipping and dancing around Paris. As you do. They take a trip to Mont St Michel, a tiny, hilly island off the coast of Normandy, known in France as "the Wonder of the West." The couple climb the steps to the wonder ("Hey! That's the name of the movie") and fall more deeply in love with each other. They frolic on the silty beach near the island before returning to Paris. The woman (Olga Kurylenko) is a Ukrainian who has made her home in Paris. Her name is Marina, although we never hear her name in the movie. Nor do we hear the name of her lover Neil (Affleck), or most of the other characters. Judging by the production notes, the two UK press contacts for StudioCanal may have donated their names to the characters.
Marina also has a young daughter from a previous relationship, Tatiana (Tatiana Chiline), and when Marina decides to move to the US to be with Neil, Tatiana comes too, and for a while it looks like they might form a happy family of three. Neil is an environmental inspector. The production notes say he wanted to be a writer, but there is no evidence for this anywhere in the film. In fact, the production notes seem to be talking about an entirely different film, because we learn almost nothing about him: not his back story and not even what he thinks or wants. We find out a little more about Marina—mainly that she is erratic and unstable, by turns filled with love and a desire to dance and run through cornfields and laugh, and sad, bleak and difficult—but she isn't always all that likeable. She is more likeable when she's moving around—dancing, skipping or leaping—than when she's static and sad. Meanwhile, Neil bumps into an old friend (McAdams), nameless in the movie but called Jane in the credits, and Marina feels the need to confess to the lonely, expat local priest (Javier Bardem), although don't get me wrong: this is not Closer, by any means. That would require more of a plot. And some dialogue.
There is more of a storyline than in The Tree of Life, but we hear from the characters almost exclusively via wistful, dreamy voiceovers. Their inner monologues are certainly a lot more philosophical and vague than most people's. This would be less irritating if the film described in the production notes didn't sound more up my street: more action, less guesswork and more character development (read: some character development). To the Wonder is a very, very beautiful film, for sure. It's ethereal and Affleck and Kurylenko are really good together and it isn't their fault I'm such a philistine and want a little more context and dialogue in my films. It felt like a lot of McAdams' scenes had been cut—this film isn't about a love triangle—and I feel like cutting Bardem's character would have affected the theme but not the plot.
I don't need to be spoon fed, but our two leads were such ciphers that To the Wonder left me feeling frustrated. I wanted to know more about Marina and Neil. I wanted to be able to care about what happened to them and to be able to root for them, but as in I Give It a Year, I just couldn't. (In this film it was the long, sweeping shots of a beautiful woman dancing in various scenic—and less scenic, in the case of Target—locations, that distracted from the relationship rather than the crude humour of I Give It a Year.) On leaving the cinema, I was asked to fill in a questionnaire about my thoughts and expectations of the film. One question asked me to select which adjectives best described the movie; one was romantic. The production notes also summarize it as a "romantic drama." I would counter that it is neither romantic, nor very dramatic. Thought-provoking, gorgeously shot, sensitively acted, dreamy and melancholy would be a lot more accurate.
18 February 2013
The Burger Bulletin: Patty & Bun
You wouldn't think that we were currently undergoing a crise de bœuf in the UK. When I walked past Meat Liquor at around 5.15 on Saturday the queue was already about 30-people strong. Just around the corner at Patty & Bun, the latest challenger to the hotly contested best-London-burger throne, there were maybe 15 people in line when I arrived. Luckily, the very friendly host assured me it wouldn't be too long a wait. As it was so early, I wasn't really hungry yet, anyway, and within about 20 minutes I was perched happily at a table inside.
Patty & Bun only has room for 30 covers and its size, combined with some very positive buzz, means there is probably always at least some form of queue. Unlike at Meat Liquor, there is no shelter while you are queuing—Patty & Bun is on James Street, between Selfridges and St Christopher's Place—but Meat Liquor's above-car-park location isn't really the height of glamour either. Pro-tip, though: as most of the tables are for twosomes, you're likely to spend a lot longer in line if you're waiting for a table for four.
The menu is: what burger would you like? They do a veggie option, which contains all of my least favourite vegetables; there are probably better places to take the vegetarian in your life, though. I ordered the Smokey Robinson burger, a bacon-cheeseburger with caramelised onions and smokey mayo (£8.50). I wasn't that hungry but felt I should try the rosemary-salted chips, so I ordered a portion of those as well. The burger was really great. I wasn't asked how I wanted it cooked and I was too busy trying to explain that I wanted my lettuce and tomato on the side to the less than helpful waitress, so I forgot to ask for it medium rare. Happily, it came medium rare-ish anyway. The meat was really flavoursome and the smokey mayo contrasted nicely with the sweetness of the brioche bun. The chips were OK, but nothing special. At £2.50 for a one-person portion, they were reasonably priced.
I was far too full for pudding but I can never resist desserts that involve both chocolate and peanut butter, so I couldn't turn down the peanut butter choc ice, which was £2.95 and just about the right size for someone who didn't think she could manage a pudding. The peanut butter ice cream, courtesy of The Ice Cream Union, who are based in my 'hood, was delicious, and having a choc ice made for a nice trip down memory lane.
Overall, Patty & Bun is a great little place. Over-hyped, perhaps, but no more so than many of the other new burger joints in the city. Yes, it's a pain to have to queue, but it's so rare to find a restaurant where you can book these days, and the turn-over is pretty quick. The only negative was the poor service I received from my waitress. It may have been a language thing—English wasn't her first language—but she was fairly brusque and completely uninterested in being friendly, until of course, it was time to pay. All of the other staff members, especially the host/maître d'/whatever you want to call that, were lovely, and it certainly didn't ruin a fun meal.
Patty & Bun. 54 James Street, London, W1U 1HE (Tube: Bond Street). Website. Twitter.
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| Patty & Bun, James Street |
Patty & Bun only has room for 30 covers and its size, combined with some very positive buzz, means there is probably always at least some form of queue. Unlike at Meat Liquor, there is no shelter while you are queuing—Patty & Bun is on James Street, between Selfridges and St Christopher's Place—but Meat Liquor's above-car-park location isn't really the height of glamour either. Pro-tip, though: as most of the tables are for twosomes, you're likely to spend a lot longer in line if you're waiting for a table for four.
The menu is: what burger would you like? They do a veggie option, which contains all of my least favourite vegetables; there are probably better places to take the vegetarian in your life, though. I ordered the Smokey Robinson burger, a bacon-cheeseburger with caramelised onions and smokey mayo (£8.50). I wasn't that hungry but felt I should try the rosemary-salted chips, so I ordered a portion of those as well. The burger was really great. I wasn't asked how I wanted it cooked and I was too busy trying to explain that I wanted my lettuce and tomato on the side to the less than helpful waitress, so I forgot to ask for it medium rare. Happily, it came medium rare-ish anyway. The meat was really flavoursome and the smokey mayo contrasted nicely with the sweetness of the brioche bun. The chips were OK, but nothing special. At £2.50 for a one-person portion, they were reasonably priced.
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| Great burgers, and a peanut butter choc ice too. What more could a girl want? |
I was far too full for pudding but I can never resist desserts that involve both chocolate and peanut butter, so I couldn't turn down the peanut butter choc ice, which was £2.95 and just about the right size for someone who didn't think she could manage a pudding. The peanut butter ice cream, courtesy of The Ice Cream Union, who are based in my 'hood, was delicious, and having a choc ice made for a nice trip down memory lane.
Overall, Patty & Bun is a great little place. Over-hyped, perhaps, but no more so than many of the other new burger joints in the city. Yes, it's a pain to have to queue, but it's so rare to find a restaurant where you can book these days, and the turn-over is pretty quick. The only negative was the poor service I received from my waitress. It may have been a language thing—English wasn't her first language—but she was fairly brusque and completely uninterested in being friendly, until of course, it was time to pay. All of the other staff members, especially the host/maître d'/whatever you want to call that, were lovely, and it certainly didn't ruin a fun meal.
Patty & Bun. 54 James Street, London, W1U 1HE (Tube: Bond Street). Website. Twitter.
11 February 2013
No Contest
After the hectic nature of the rest of my weekend, I wasn't sure whether I could face going to the cinema yesterday afternoon, but I really wanted to see Pablo Larraín's new film No, and I wasn't sure when I would next get the chance to make a trip to the Soho Curzon. The big screen was almost full for the 1 pm performance, thanks to the string of glowing reviews and Oscar nomination for Best Foreign Film, perhaps.
When I was describing the film to my friend on Friday, I asked if she had heard about Gael García Bernal's new film about the 'Mad Men of Chile,' which was all I had remembered from the poster I had seen, and she said that she hadn't, but that she did think he was in a film about a dictator. It turned out that we were both right. The movie tells the story of the advertising executives and PR spin doctors whose campaigns helped to oust General Pinochet by persuading the people of Chile to vote against him in the 1988 referendum, which was forced on him by international political pressures.
García Bernal plays René, a charismatic and talented young ad man, who is seduced away from the glamorous world of fizzy drinks commercials to work on the anti-Pinochet "no" campaign, much to the annoyance of the boss of his advertising agency, who is running the "yes" campaign. Each side is allowed 15 minutes of TV air time to run their campaigns each night for 27 days, and although René and the "no" team are convinced the results of the plebiscite will be fixed and that their work is pointless, they set about their efforts to inspire hope and dreams of a better future in the hearts of every Chilean. Their campaign literally involves sunshine and rainbows, at times, and is boosted by the incredibly catchy jingle, Chile, la alegría ya viene. I was half expecting them to use A-ha's The Sun Always Shines on TV. But to what extent will the "yes" campaign and Pinochet's cronies go to ensure that the Chileans say "no" to the "no" campaign? René is brave and idealistic, but he also has a young son and an estranged wife (Antonia Zegers), who is often seen getting into all sorts of political trouble.
The story of Pinochet's removal isn't one I was familiar with, and although I knew what the outcome would be, like Argo, Larraín's movie played out as a very tense and engaging political thriller, with a few more light-hearted, Hollywood/ad industry moments. (García Bernal's character's hair and facial hair also bear a striking resemblance to Ben Affleck's in Argo, but that is somewhat beside the point.) García Bernal is so beautiful I could quite happily sit and watch him for two hours in pretty much anything, but he was really good in this film. I have to admit that I got a bit confused by the other characters' names, but René's boss and a couple of his "no" co-workers also put in good performances. Shot on film that would have been used on Chilean TV in the 1980s, No is grainy and gritty, punctuated with archival footage, including clips of Jane Fonda, Christopher Reeve ("Superman!!!" the caption reads) and others telling the Chileans why it was so important to vote no. It's a really enjoyable film, striking the balance well between hard, political subject matter and the slightly frothier business of trying to sell the people the life they don't yet know they want.
When I was describing the film to my friend on Friday, I asked if she had heard about Gael García Bernal's new film about the 'Mad Men of Chile,' which was all I had remembered from the poster I had seen, and she said that she hadn't, but that she did think he was in a film about a dictator. It turned out that we were both right. The movie tells the story of the advertising executives and PR spin doctors whose campaigns helped to oust General Pinochet by persuading the people of Chile to vote against him in the 1988 referendum, which was forced on him by international political pressures.
García Bernal plays René, a charismatic and talented young ad man, who is seduced away from the glamorous world of fizzy drinks commercials to work on the anti-Pinochet "no" campaign, much to the annoyance of the boss of his advertising agency, who is running the "yes" campaign. Each side is allowed 15 minutes of TV air time to run their campaigns each night for 27 days, and although René and the "no" team are convinced the results of the plebiscite will be fixed and that their work is pointless, they set about their efforts to inspire hope and dreams of a better future in the hearts of every Chilean. Their campaign literally involves sunshine and rainbows, at times, and is boosted by the incredibly catchy jingle, Chile, la alegría ya viene. I was half expecting them to use A-ha's The Sun Always Shines on TV. But to what extent will the "yes" campaign and Pinochet's cronies go to ensure that the Chileans say "no" to the "no" campaign? René is brave and idealistic, but he also has a young son and an estranged wife (Antonia Zegers), who is often seen getting into all sorts of political trouble.
The story of Pinochet's removal isn't one I was familiar with, and although I knew what the outcome would be, like Argo, Larraín's movie played out as a very tense and engaging political thriller, with a few more light-hearted, Hollywood/ad industry moments. (García Bernal's character's hair and facial hair also bear a striking resemblance to Ben Affleck's in Argo, but that is somewhat beside the point.) García Bernal is so beautiful I could quite happily sit and watch him for two hours in pretty much anything, but he was really good in this film. I have to admit that I got a bit confused by the other characters' names, but René's boss and a couple of his "no" co-workers also put in good performances. Shot on film that would have been used on Chilean TV in the 1980s, No is grainy and gritty, punctuated with archival footage, including clips of Jane Fonda, Christopher Reeve ("Superman!!!" the caption reads) and others telling the Chileans why it was so important to vote no. It's a really enjoyable film, striking the balance well between hard, political subject matter and the slightly frothier business of trying to sell the people the life they don't yet know they want.
10 February 2013
Save It for a Rainy Day
The weather in London has been miserable this weekend, although relative to the Nemo-induced chaos in the US northeast, I probably shouldn't complain too much. The rain certainly didn't stop play here, and I've been pretty busy. On Friday night, I went to a ceilidh at Cecil Sharp House for a friend's birthday, which was good fun, although took me back to my Nowheresville days with the high ratio of nerds to civilians.
Yesterday, my parents came into town, which meant I had to get up to go running relatively early. It was grey, cold and rainy, but I had a good run, motivated by the knowledge that I would be stopping by St John's outpost on Druid Street on my way home for a custard doughnut and some sourdough bread for lunch. I spent the afternoon shopping with my parents in Covent Garden and Soho. I hadn't been into the West End for several weeks and was surprised how busy it was for a rainy, cold February. The parents were staying at the Royal Automobile Club on Pall Mall, so while they went to get changed for dinner, I sat and read the papers in one of the lounges, surrounded by the usual smartness and decorum.
I took my parents back to Mele e Pere in Brewer Street for dinner, as a thank you for helping me move into my (now not so) new flat. We had hoped to have a pre-dinner cocktail at Hawksmoor on Air Street, but their bar was full of people waiting to dine, so we had our aperitif at Mele e Pere instead. I didn't get the chance to check out their list of wittily named cocktails last time, and although I was tempted by the Don't Be So Cocchi and the Down the Apples, in the end I orded an Autentico Sour, with Galliano, gin, sours and ginger. It was really good. Papa was very impressed by the home-made vermouth, with Mele e Pere's special blend of botanicals.
Once we got to our table, the food was great too. We shared a selection of small plates to start—the arancini and the San Daniele ham being the standouts for me—and then I had the roast baby chicken with roast peppers and a side of fries. With hindsight, I should have ordered a salad instead of the chips, as with the starters and bread, I had had plenty of carbs. The chicken was delicious, though: juicy, tender and very more-ish. Papa's lamb and Maman's pollock were equally successful. I was too full for a pudding, really, but Papa and I managed to share a chocolate fondente, topped with vanilla ice cream and a dusting of pretty, pink praline crunch. Yum!
This morning, it was time to work off last night's excesses and I joined my parents at the Royal Automobile Club for a morning workout, pounding the treadmill and then sweating it out in the Turkish baths. I haven't been to the gym at the RAC for a while and compared to the Peckham Pulse, whose facilities I have been using recently, the contrast is even more striking. Somewhat counter-productively, we then had a big breakfast in the club: scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage and pastries. Unsurprisingly, I was full again soon.
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| Lomo-ed shot of St Paul's on Saturday morning |
Yesterday, my parents came into town, which meant I had to get up to go running relatively early. It was grey, cold and rainy, but I had a good run, motivated by the knowledge that I would be stopping by St John's outpost on Druid Street on my way home for a custard doughnut and some sourdough bread for lunch. I spent the afternoon shopping with my parents in Covent Garden and Soho. I hadn't been into the West End for several weeks and was surprised how busy it was for a rainy, cold February. The parents were staying at the Royal Automobile Club on Pall Mall, so while they went to get changed for dinner, I sat and read the papers in one of the lounges, surrounded by the usual smartness and decorum.
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| Did someone say "doughnuts"? |
I took my parents back to Mele e Pere in Brewer Street for dinner, as a thank you for helping me move into my (now not so) new flat. We had hoped to have a pre-dinner cocktail at Hawksmoor on Air Street, but their bar was full of people waiting to dine, so we had our aperitif at Mele e Pere instead. I didn't get the chance to check out their list of wittily named cocktails last time, and although I was tempted by the Don't Be So Cocchi and the Down the Apples, in the end I orded an Autentico Sour, with Galliano, gin, sours and ginger. It was really good. Papa was very impressed by the home-made vermouth, with Mele e Pere's special blend of botanicals.
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| Assorted treats at Mele e Pere |
Once we got to our table, the food was great too. We shared a selection of small plates to start—the arancini and the San Daniele ham being the standouts for me—and then I had the roast baby chicken with roast peppers and a side of fries. With hindsight, I should have ordered a salad instead of the chips, as with the starters and bread, I had had plenty of carbs. The chicken was delicious, though: juicy, tender and very more-ish. Papa's lamb and Maman's pollock were equally successful. I was too full for a pudding, really, but Papa and I managed to share a chocolate fondente, topped with vanilla ice cream and a dusting of pretty, pink praline crunch. Yum!
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| Yes, they do have cars at the Royal Automobile Club. Well, a car. |
This morning, it was time to work off last night's excesses and I joined my parents at the Royal Automobile Club for a morning workout, pounding the treadmill and then sweating it out in the Turkish baths. I haven't been to the gym at the RAC for a while and compared to the Peckham Pulse, whose facilities I have been using recently, the contrast is even more striking. Somewhat counter-productively, we then had a big breakfast in the club: scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage and pastries. Unsurprisingly, I was full again soon.
08 February 2013
Out of the Frying Pan: Spit & Roast Review
After a far-too-long absence, KERB, the street-food market formerly known as eat.st, returned to King's Cross this week. I had been looking forward to a cheeseburger from Bleecker Street Burger all week long, but in the end I was seduced by the wares of Spit & Roast, purveyors of fine buttermilk fried chicken, among other things.
I had hoped to be able to try out the spit-roast chicken with garlic and herb potatoes and gravy, but the only menu option today was the buttermilk fried chicken bap with hot Korean sauce and fennel slaw. I wasn't too sure about the Korean sauce, so they glazed my chicken with a combination of hot BBQ sauce and tamarind sauce instead. "We prefer to talk our customers through things rather than just listing everything on the menu," said one of the chefs. Perfect for fussy people like me then. The chicken was delicious—juicy and flavoursome— and the buttermilk coating was perfectly complementary. The slight kick in the BBQ course meant that I was sufficiently full after I'd finished my sandwich, although had I been left craving more, Spit & Roast were teaming up with Bleecker Street Burger today to offer sweet potato fries topped with jerk pork gravy. Yum!
At £6 for a bap, Spit & Roast isn't especially cheap for street food—compared to £4.50 for a Bleecker Street cheeseburger, for example—but their food is really good and I definitely want to test out some of the other dishes in their repertoire.
Spit & Roast @ KERB (Tube: King's Cross) and elsewhere; check out their Tumblr or Twitter feed more information.
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| Spit & Roast's KERB patch |
I had hoped to be able to try out the spit-roast chicken with garlic and herb potatoes and gravy, but the only menu option today was the buttermilk fried chicken bap with hot Korean sauce and fennel slaw. I wasn't too sure about the Korean sauce, so they glazed my chicken with a combination of hot BBQ sauce and tamarind sauce instead. "We prefer to talk our customers through things rather than just listing everything on the menu," said one of the chefs. Perfect for fussy people like me then. The chicken was delicious—juicy and flavoursome— and the buttermilk coating was perfectly complementary. The slight kick in the BBQ course meant that I was sufficiently full after I'd finished my sandwich, although had I been left craving more, Spit & Roast were teaming up with Bleecker Street Burger today to offer sweet potato fries topped with jerk pork gravy. Yum!
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| Buttermilk fried chicken with BBQ sauce and fennel slaw |
At £6 for a bap, Spit & Roast isn't especially cheap for street food—compared to £4.50 for a Bleecker Street cheeseburger, for example—but their food is really good and I definitely want to test out some of the other dishes in their repertoire.
Spit & Roast @ KERB (Tube: King's Cross) and elsewhere; check out their Tumblr or Twitter feed more information.
04 February 2013
"Compared to Orson He's a Sweetheart"
Many Alfred Hitchcock movies feature in my list of all-time favourite movies, and although Psycho comes below Vertigo and North by Northwest, among others, it was fairly inevitable that I would go to see Sacha Gervasi's new film, Hitchcock, which is about the making of Psycho. I enjoyed Gervasi's other movie, the documentary Anvil! The Story of Anvil, and having seen the trailer for Hitchcock, I had high hopes for his new film.
The movie opens in 1959 and Hitchcock (Anthony Hopkins) is trying to decide what to do to follow the huge success of North by Northwest. Many people are trying to persuade him to make Casino Royale, but Hitchcock says he's already made that film, but he called it North by Northwest. But what if someone really good made a horror, he muses, happening upon the true story of the serial killer Ed Gein. "Not your average run of the mill nutcase," he says, setting about the business of making Psycho, despite opposition from the studio, who refuse to fund the movie.
Luckily, his wife Alma (Helen Mirren) is the epitome of the phrase, "behind every great man is a great woman." She was once Hitchcock's boss and is now a huge part of his success. She makes suggestions to the script, she takes his place on set when he is too ill to come in, and she keeps the production moving. She also puts up with his constant flirtations with the revolving cycle of "Hitchcock blondes," who, in this film, include Janet Leigh (Scarlett Johannson) and Vera Miles (Jessica Biel). "Call me Hitch," he says, "hold the cock." Tee hee. To keep herself sane, Alma is also assisting her friend, the screenwriter Whitfield Cook (Danny Huston), with his latest project, of which Hitchcock is vastly critical, and a budding friendship is developing between Alma and Whit.
The audience knows, of course, that Psycho will go on to be one of Hitchcock's most successful movies, but based on the constant cock ups we see in Hitchcock, this was far from inevitable. The studio and the censors are worried about the nudity ("she isn't nude; she's wearing a shower cap"), the violence and the presence of a flushing toilet for the first time in an American film. Hitchcock assures them that his murders "are always models of taste." Besides, we don't actually see Marion Crane's murder and a large part of the reaction it evokes is due to the music.
Hopkins's Hitchcock is a gross, corpulent, arrogant man and Gervasi encourages us to consider Alma's role even in those aspects of him we do admire: his brilliance as a film-maker, in particular. He isn't likeable in this film and as the movie progresses and he alternates between single-minded obsession with the idea that he is doing the right thing by making Psycho and crippling insecurity and need to be reassured. Mirren, meanwhile, puts in a great performance as the talented but long-suffering, over-shadowed wife. The movie is as much about their relationship, its growing cracks and the shifting balance of power between them, as it is about Psycho. I enjoyed Hitchcock a lot: it is sharp, unapologetic and engaging, and it will appeal to movie buffs in general and Hitchcock fans in particular.
The movie opens in 1959 and Hitchcock (Anthony Hopkins) is trying to decide what to do to follow the huge success of North by Northwest. Many people are trying to persuade him to make Casino Royale, but Hitchcock says he's already made that film, but he called it North by Northwest. But what if someone really good made a horror, he muses, happening upon the true story of the serial killer Ed Gein. "Not your average run of the mill nutcase," he says, setting about the business of making Psycho, despite opposition from the studio, who refuse to fund the movie.
Luckily, his wife Alma (Helen Mirren) is the epitome of the phrase, "behind every great man is a great woman." She was once Hitchcock's boss and is now a huge part of his success. She makes suggestions to the script, she takes his place on set when he is too ill to come in, and she keeps the production moving. She also puts up with his constant flirtations with the revolving cycle of "Hitchcock blondes," who, in this film, include Janet Leigh (Scarlett Johannson) and Vera Miles (Jessica Biel). "Call me Hitch," he says, "hold the cock." Tee hee. To keep herself sane, Alma is also assisting her friend, the screenwriter Whitfield Cook (Danny Huston), with his latest project, of which Hitchcock is vastly critical, and a budding friendship is developing between Alma and Whit.
The audience knows, of course, that Psycho will go on to be one of Hitchcock's most successful movies, but based on the constant cock ups we see in Hitchcock, this was far from inevitable. The studio and the censors are worried about the nudity ("she isn't nude; she's wearing a shower cap"), the violence and the presence of a flushing toilet for the first time in an American film. Hitchcock assures them that his murders "are always models of taste." Besides, we don't actually see Marion Crane's murder and a large part of the reaction it evokes is due to the music.
Hopkins's Hitchcock is a gross, corpulent, arrogant man and Gervasi encourages us to consider Alma's role even in those aspects of him we do admire: his brilliance as a film-maker, in particular. He isn't likeable in this film and as the movie progresses and he alternates between single-minded obsession with the idea that he is doing the right thing by making Psycho and crippling insecurity and need to be reassured. Mirren, meanwhile, puts in a great performance as the talented but long-suffering, over-shadowed wife. The movie is as much about their relationship, its growing cracks and the shifting balance of power between them, as it is about Psycho. I enjoyed Hitchcock a lot: it is sharp, unapologetic and engaging, and it will appeal to movie buffs in general and Hitchcock fans in particular.
03 February 2013
Bowling, Burritos and Bird Cages
It was the SIL's birthday earlier in the week and we celebrated last night at various London locales, starting with hers and the Bro's place for drinks and ending somewhat later at The Roxy in Borough, where they were screening The Muppets with the sound off, which meant it almost looked as though Kermit was singing about how he wanted to get dirty on Christina Aguilera's behalf.
Before that, though, we went bowling, and the Surrey Quays lanes were insanely busy. Then again, other than the cinema and bingo, there isn't much else to do in the area on a Saturday night. We played girls against boys, although as there were more girls than guys, it was slightly unfair. All of us played better when we were bowling on behalf of another girl who was supposed to turn up but didn't. While we waited for our taxis, we exploited the endless fun to be found in the arcade.
We then headed up to Brick Lane for dinner at Loco Mojito for some Tex-Mex food and plenty of margs. I'm not the biggest fan of margaritas but these weren't particularly authentic, which meant they were pretty sweet and drinkable. The food was fine, but nothing special. I've had tastier Mexican food at Wahaca. In my chicken burrito, the chicken was shredded so finely it almost tasted like chicken paste and wasn't especially flavoursome, and the beans were kidney beans rather than refried beans. The ambiance was good, though, and we all had fun.
After dinner, we went to Ninetyeight bar, tucked away down a discreet, unsigned staircase off Curtain Road, for some more cocktails. Oddly, they were closing at 11, so we only had time for one drink. My mixed berry mojito was delicious: strong, but fruity. The quirky décor of the bar—one part southern US plantation house, one part crazy aunt's attic—and the intriguing "lickable candles" mentioned on the website made us make plans for a return visit. As it was, we just had time to play a little piano in the conservatory, surrounded by birdcages, Lego bricks and Spider-Man toys, before it was time to move on. As it was a cold Saturday night in Shoreditch and as we hadn't booked anywhere else, the other bars on my list, such as Callooh Callay, were all full, which was how a few of us ended up back at the Roxy.
Loco Mojito. 192 Brick Lane, London, E1 6SA (Tube: Shoreditch High Street Overground). Website.
Ninetyeight. 98 Curtain Road, London, EC2A 3AF (Tube: Shoreditch High Street Overground or Old Street). Website.
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| Kermit vs Kermit |
Before that, though, we went bowling, and the Surrey Quays lanes were insanely busy. Then again, other than the cinema and bingo, there isn't much else to do in the area on a Saturday night. We played girls against boys, although as there were more girls than guys, it was slightly unfair. All of us played better when we were bowling on behalf of another girl who was supposed to turn up but didn't. While we waited for our taxis, we exploited the endless fun to be found in the arcade.
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| Things to do in SE16 when you're 27 |
We then headed up to Brick Lane for dinner at Loco Mojito for some Tex-Mex food and plenty of margs. I'm not the biggest fan of margaritas but these weren't particularly authentic, which meant they were pretty sweet and drinkable. The food was fine, but nothing special. I've had tastier Mexican food at Wahaca. In my chicken burrito, the chicken was shredded so finely it almost tasted like chicken paste and wasn't especially flavoursome, and the beans were kidney beans rather than refried beans. The ambiance was good, though, and we all had fun.
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| Loco Mojitos: the other cocktail pitchers were crazier than the mojitos, to be honest |
After dinner, we went to Ninetyeight bar, tucked away down a discreet, unsigned staircase off Curtain Road, for some more cocktails. Oddly, they were closing at 11, so we only had time for one drink. My mixed berry mojito was delicious: strong, but fruity. The quirky décor of the bar—one part southern US plantation house, one part crazy aunt's attic—and the intriguing "lickable candles" mentioned on the website made us make plans for a return visit. As it was, we just had time to play a little piano in the conservatory, surrounded by birdcages, Lego bricks and Spider-Man toys, before it was time to move on. As it was a cold Saturday night in Shoreditch and as we hadn't booked anywhere else, the other bars on my list, such as Callooh Callay, were all full, which was how a few of us ended up back at the Roxy.
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| Quirky fun at Ninetyeight in Shoreditch |
Loco Mojito. 192 Brick Lane, London, E1 6SA (Tube: Shoreditch High Street Overground). Website.
Ninetyeight. 98 Curtain Road, London, EC2A 3AF (Tube: Shoreditch High Street Overground or Old Street). Website.
02 February 2013
The Right Side of the Tracks: Bea's Diner Review
Update (2015): Sadly, Bea's Diner is no more but you can find Bea's other ventures here and here.
Who needs Breakfast at Tiffany's when you can have breakfast at Bea's? A fortnight ago, snow didn't stop play exactly, but did mean a change of plan when we found out that Bea's Diner on Druid Street was closed. Since then, we've been plotting our return, and although it was pretty chilly this morning, it was also lovely and sunny. Besides, what better motivation to get out of bed on a Saturday morning than pancakes with bacon and bottomless coffee?
Bea's Diner is the south-of-the-river outpost of Bea's of Bloomsbury. It's part of the Maltby Street food market (also known as the Spa Terminus area), but technically, it's nestled under Arch 76 on Druid Street, which means you get the odd rumbling of trains passing overhead. The diner is open on Saturdays from 9 am until they run out of food. We got there at 10.30 and got one of the last tables and by the time we left, an hour or so later, a critical mass of hungry, under-caffeinated Londoners were eagerly waiting to pounce on our table. Going early is, then, a good plan.
The menu is fairly simple: pancakes, French toast or poached eggs, with various combinations of accoutrements. I ordered the buttermilk pancakes with a side of maple streaky bacon, and a "bottomless" coffee. The pancakes were delicious, although I may have gone a little overboard on the maple syrup given that the bacon was also heavily maple-soaked. The bacon was really tasty—it could have been slightly crispier, but when it's such good quality bacon, I don't mind so much; you also get a generous portion of bacon (take note 124 Coffee House!). £6 for the pancakes (£8.50 with bacon) is pretty reasonable given the quality and quantity. The Hasbean coffee was good too: strong and flavoursome. But we didn't get the chance to put the "bottomless" claim to the test, as by the time we were reaching the bottom of our second mug, we started to feel guilty for continue to linger at our table when there was a queue. To be fair, though, they should have got up earlier.
Bea's Diner also hosts regular events—last November, they did a Thanksgiving dinner and on Tuesdays, they do movie nights, screening a classic film, accompanied by classic American comfort food. It's still a little chilly to be venturing out to a warehouse under the railway on a Tuesday night, but once the nights start getting a little milder, the movie nights sound like a great idea. In the meantime, I'll have to "settle" for Saturday brunch.
Bea's Diner. Arch 76, Druid Street, London, SE1 2HQ (Tube: Bermondsey or London Bridge). Website. Twitter.
Who needs Breakfast at Tiffany's when you can have breakfast at Bea's? A fortnight ago, snow didn't stop play exactly, but did mean a change of plan when we found out that Bea's Diner on Druid Street was closed. Since then, we've been plotting our return, and although it was pretty chilly this morning, it was also lovely and sunny. Besides, what better motivation to get out of bed on a Saturday morning than pancakes with bacon and bottomless coffee?
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| Bea's Diner, Druid Street |
Bea's Diner is the south-of-the-river outpost of Bea's of Bloomsbury. It's part of the Maltby Street food market (also known as the Spa Terminus area), but technically, it's nestled under Arch 76 on Druid Street, which means you get the odd rumbling of trains passing overhead. The diner is open on Saturdays from 9 am until they run out of food. We got there at 10.30 and got one of the last tables and by the time we left, an hour or so later, a critical mass of hungry, under-caffeinated Londoners were eagerly waiting to pounce on our table. Going early is, then, a good plan.
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| L: Nearing the bottom of the bottomless coffee. R: Warehouse chic. |
The menu is fairly simple: pancakes, French toast or poached eggs, with various combinations of accoutrements. I ordered the buttermilk pancakes with a side of maple streaky bacon, and a "bottomless" coffee. The pancakes were delicious, although I may have gone a little overboard on the maple syrup given that the bacon was also heavily maple-soaked. The bacon was really tasty—it could have been slightly crispier, but when it's such good quality bacon, I don't mind so much; you also get a generous portion of bacon (take note 124 Coffee House!). £6 for the pancakes (£8.50 with bacon) is pretty reasonable given the quality and quantity. The Hasbean coffee was good too: strong and flavoursome. But we didn't get the chance to put the "bottomless" claim to the test, as by the time we were reaching the bottom of our second mug, we started to feel guilty for continue to linger at our table when there was a queue. To be fair, though, they should have got up earlier.
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| Pancakes: check. Bacon: check. Maple syrup: check. Coffee: check. |
Bea's Diner also hosts regular events—last November, they did a Thanksgiving dinner and on Tuesdays, they do movie nights, screening a classic film, accompanied by classic American comfort food. It's still a little chilly to be venturing out to a warehouse under the railway on a Tuesday night, but once the nights start getting a little milder, the movie nights sound like a great idea. In the meantime, I'll have to "settle" for Saturday brunch.
Bea's Diner. Arch 76, Druid Street, London, SE1 2HQ (Tube: Bermondsey or London Bridge). Website. Twitter.