The Departed

Firstly, dont miss the start of this. I missed the first hour, and if it weren't for Sky's info panel thing, I wouldn't have had a clue who was a gangster and who was a cop. Thats basically the story, Di Caprio and Mattt Daaamon (always to be said in a Team America voice) are infiltrators- Di Caprio is a cop in the gangsters, Damon is a gangster in the cops. Jack Nicholson plays The Joker. A whole load of farcical situations come up (both shagging the same woman for example), but who cares about that?, its still full of Scorcese's gangster action scenes (he could make 300 of these kind of films, and they would all be good), and theres lots of shooting and scowling and people annoyed with other people, and everyone gets shot. end.
Funny, the film takes over 2 1/2 hours, the review takes under 2 1/2 minutes.

Deline and Fall- Evelyn Waugh

After a few whoppers of books, I decided to read this, as its thin, and having not read Brideshead, or whatever else Waugh had done, I had no expectations.
Paul Pennyfeather is expelled from Oxford College, and turns to teaching at Llanabba Castle meets a friend Beste-Chetwynde. But Margot, Beste-Chetwynde's mother, introduces him to the questionable delights of high society. and is promptly whisked to jail on white slave trafficking charges.
It reminded me of a Tom Sharpe novel, but without the jokes. Full of satire for the higher classes, and filled with highly improbably events, I found this a nice read, full of humour and comic events, but I'll probably forget it shortly.

The Beat that my heart skipped

Finally got round to watching this, a DVD lent to me ages ago by Hamish. There must be a million films that are 'typically French'- and this is one. Whether its just that a film is shot in France and all the people speak French that makes it this way, or there is something subtler in the way its shot or whatever, being 'typically French' is one of those things that puts a little 'oh that might be good then, because they know how to do stuff like make films' thoughts in your head.

Its pretty good, its not great, but its pretty good. The story actually was a bit shit- a real-estate guy tries to play piano, fails....and thats about it. He shags some women and stabs some blokes along the way, but all in all its about him trying to play the piano, and although unwittingly I did start to care if he could play the piano, its still not an amazing story, and not one I will remember long.

Shantaram

This is another breeze-block of a book this year- at 929 pages, its my third longest to date. It should be as well, because Roberts manages to escape from an Australian prison, become a doctor in a Mumbai slum, go to war in Afghanistan, join the Indian mafia, be a smackhead and fall in love.
I got this as the 'tricky third book' in Waterstones's never-ending 3 for 2 deal (that third book decision always takes 4 times longer than the other two)- I'd recently read Papillion, and it seemed in the same vein- it is, but less focus on trying to escape, more on what Roberts does after his wall-jump.

"you think its ironic they dress us as Where's Wally?"

For a book this size, it races along and doesn't allow you to get bored in any of his activities, because a new activity starts up, and new characters develop, and a whole new adventure is underway. The sections when he lives in a Mumbai slum are the best for me- its pretty much the exact opposite of my life (well, since I moved from Edge Hill, prior to that it was almost identical), and Roberts, a former armed robber becomes a doctor for the poorest people ever. I had to check on his website to see how much was real - apparently most of it is. 

Imagine the Crocodile Dundee guy in Slumdog Millionaire - thats it.

Uranium, and opinions on nuclear power

Running a bookshop occasionally means I see a new book, order it, and completely forget about it for 3 months until it arrives. This happened with Uranium by Tom Zoellner. 
Pretty interesting stuff Uranium, and as Zoellner travels to loads of countries trying to exploit it (mostly its sought to sell to the mad countries for bombs), and you get the sense it screws up a country as much as it helps them financially.
Not only does it make the surrounding area radioactive, and therefore full of tumorous Elephantmen, it becomes The Place for the locals to work (as in Niger)- so other jobs and stuff aren't done. Economically worthless countries like Niger are/were foreign owned too (France in their case) so all the money from Uranium goes to France, whilst Niger, and other places like it, are absolutely shit.

Unlike The Gold Rush, there was no Charlie Chaplin film about The Uranium Rush (that would have probably been like Dawn of the Dead),

mmm, shoes for tea.

but The Uranium Rush was a huge thing in USA, with prospectors running around trying to find radioactive rocks- some of whom succeeded and became mega-rich. USA still holds secret bunkers that are stuffed with radioactive waste that no-one knows what to do with. The USA was the primary country buying up Uranium, and has spent $10 trillion - 5/6ths of the current national debt on making bombs out of it, or its by-product, Plutionium. Morons.

Although theres explosions like Chernobyl, it causes radioactive cancers, and it produces waste we'll never get rid of, its got to play a big part in our energy future. Coal has fucked up a lot more of the world than Nuclear-  but because of Chernobyl and the waste element, everyone hates nuclear power.
The supply of Uranium has barely been touched, and it produces no C02, we can store waste in glass in the ocean, and not have Homer Simpsons working at the power stations. So shut up- if you want toast in 2050- you need Nuclear power.

Although any information about uranium I just learnt will disappear within a few months, I was pretty happy knowing about a rock that far exceeds the price of gold, and has seen an unthinkable amount of resources devoted to its enrichment. Uranium was unquestionably the mineral of the twentieth century- and with both Nuclear power set to become more prominent, and rouge states continued desire to produce bombs, it will be the mineral of the foreseeable future too.

Death of a salesman

Arthur Millers play is currently showing at Leeds West Yorkshire Playhouse, and I went to see 5/6ths of it last Saturday (we arrived late due to neanderthal train and bus drivers). Fortunately it was over 3 hours long, so it was easy to catch up. Williy Loman (the salesman) was played by the guy from Poirot- Philip Jackson, and someone else looked like Patrick Stewart- exactly like Patrick Stewart, it took over an hour for me to realise it wasn't Patrick Stewart. 

 Not me

Loman is on stage for almost all the play- an massive achivement to remember that much, and he really steals the show- theres a whole host of other people (12 all together, a record I think for a play i've seen), but its difficult to take your eyes or ears from Loman. Basically he has two sons, both a bit losers, but he wants them to make loads of money selling stuff- something he never really did, and continues to fail at. He's getting older, times are changing, and his kids dont want to travel around selling socks. The best bits are when Loman goes a bit mad when things aren't going his way, and he natters to himself and has imaginary friends (Patrick Stewart). Imagine that, having an imaginary Patrick Stewart as a friend. haha. In truth I never worked out if Patrick Stewart was imaginary- he seemed to be some of the time, but not others- I assume this was explained whilst I was trapseing around trying to find the bloody theatre.

I always enjoy the theatre- I don't think i've been to a bad play, so as usual, my verdict is 'it was ace'- it reminded me too much of The Glass Menagerie- mostly because of the accents, but I enjoyed that too, so that was fine.

Good end bit- I would say I'm not telling you what happens- but as its called 'The Death of a Salesman'- I guess you can figure it out

Link of the day 06/05/10

The 7 most disastrous typos ever.

Jeez, if your writing the 10 commandments, you'd think they'd concentrate.
http://www.cracked.com/article_18517_the-7-most-disastrous-typos-all-time.html

Link of the day

Thats right, I am going to try and do this daily (and adjust the day settings if I forget). In a borderline genius piece of wordplay- I have a picture of Link.

Stephen Hawking, well known for being a bit stupid now reckons we can time travel.
Sounds neat, but it being in the Daily Mail makes me suspicious. The 'go back and shoot the inventor of time travel' does pose an interesting question though.
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/home/moslive/article-1269288/STEPHEN-HAWKING-How-build-time-machine.html

JG Ballard- Miracles of Life

I finished this last night, JG Ballard's autobiography. Ballard died about a year ago, and I've been meaning to read this since then, after reading the Steig Larsson books, something slower paced was in order.
I read Empire of the Sun a while ago, and that seemed like an autobiography, so I expect I'd be repeating stuff I already knew. However it turns out Empire wasn't totally fact, the main differing point being Ballards parents were in Shanghai concentration camp with him (they went missing in Empire). This is by far the most interesting part of the book, and he spends quite a few chapters going over his early life in Shanghai before and during the Japanese invasion, where everything went to pot, and mass starvation reigned and scores of people lied dead in the streets and water.

Ballard goes on to get married, have kids and get jobs and stuff, but the most interesting imagery is the early life in Shanghai, and his return visit in 1991.

Sicily

Can you 'review' a whole island by visiting it for a week? - When your as dismissive and rash as I am, you can probably do it via Google Images.
In a few words- the west is crap, the east is ace.
We flew into Trapani (nothing there, a typical ridiculous RyanAir destination), and made our way to Palermo. Palermo is the capital, and is therefore much bigger than anywhere else. We found a few redeeming features- notably the food markets, fresh squids lay in ice, buckets of little fish and weird fruit and veg were shouted about by enthusiastic Italians- food doesn't come much better than this. There was a few sculptures, and fairly decent art exhibition, but on the whole its fairly lame. Theres hundreds of cars, garbage fills every street corner, the bars were trashy and the restaurants filled with immigrants selling keyrings. Theres almost no reason to be in Palermo, you might as well go to a city in mainland Italy.

We spent a day in Agrigento on the south coast- its fine, got a few Roman/Greek temples and stuff, but they're everywhere, better than Palermo, but still only 6/10.
Passing Catania (which didn't look great, but we only saw a bit) we then went to Taormina, and more specifically Castelmola, which is up in the hills behind Taormina. This place was in my top few places I've been to- the views were insanely good, looking over the sea and villages. Theres a few shops and restaurants there but its the views that make it (picture above). Its a bastard of a trek down to Taormina, theres a steep winding path, but you feel fit after doing it, and if you need a reason to buy ice cream, this is a good one. Taormina is a really nice town, big enough to keep you happy for a week, small enough not to piss you off with the amount of people. Strangely I bumped into one of my mums friends- little village in Sicily, off season, shops are shutting- and I bump into someone I've know for 20 years. Weird.

We spent a day up Mount Etna (above, I know it looks like a whale or something, but its not, its a volcano). There's no colours, the sky was white, the snow was white, and the rocks and road were jet black. Its like being set in a bleak Bergman film, where everything has been obliterated, and your left in black volcanic rocks, clouds and snow. Etna was defo the highlight, I cant imagine a stranger landscape to be in- Castelmola was a cracking reminder our planet can be neat, but only 70 odd miles away lay this indescribable post-apocalypse landscape. How all these so vastly differant places are all on this small island i've no idea.

The Generals Daughter- Alexander Pushkin

Not much point writing about classic authors, they are 'classic authors' because they are good. Therefore any review of mine, a man who is completely unable to write reviews, is just going to be 'good, read it'- and this is the case with The General's Daughter.
If only to make this post worthwhile, I should probably elaborate, and at least make clear this is nothing to do with a stupid John Travolta movie of the same name. This is the second book I've read about some Russian falling in love, and his town getting invaded by Kosaks- in fact, I assume the other (The Turkish Gambit by Boris Akunin) at least referred to this book.
My favourite element of the story at first seems innocuous- the protagonist gives away his sheepskin coat to a beggar- the beggar turned out to be the invading Tsar in hiding, who later pardons the protagonists life (there you go, you dont need to read it now).

I run a bookshop, so am interested in publishers, and Heron Books deserve credit, just one guy decided to publish loads of classics in dead good covers. They look old, but their not. They look expensive, but their not. They are just well made books.

Rasputin

As a fan of horror films, this was strangely my first Hammer purchase, and I am pretty sure I could have made a better choice elsewhere. Christopher Lees performance as Rasputin is the sole saving grace of an otherwise ordinary film, dominated by half characters, who I couldnt give a toss about. Even the Tsarina, who was Rasputins sole reason for being remembered played a realatively small role, and the rest of the Romanovs were bearly mentioned. Lees manaical laugh, one of its saving graces at the start, even started to piss me off towards the end.On the up side, he did look a bit like Rasputin. Thats the entirity of 'the up side'

Stalins Nemesis- The exile and murder of Leon Trotsky

Finished this recently, I didnt know much about Trotsky, I knew Stalin was a bad man, but not that they were enemies or anything, or the lengths Stalin went to kill Trotsky. Basically they fall out, he gets sent to Mexico, hangs around with Diego Riviera, Andre Breton and bones Frida Kahlo (behind Rivieras back, whilst the muralist was paying for his exile, the bugger).
You kind of get the feeling Trotsky caused more mayhem than the books says (he was Minister for War after all), but Stalin comes accross as a right dick, he spends ages tracking down and killing Trotsky and his family, whom you cant help taking the side of. The big winner is Lenin, whom is constantly prasied and whom both Trotsky and Stalin looked up to as a messiah.
I like books about Russia, and the was one of the good ones.

The Glass Menagerie

Tennessee Williams play is currently showing at The Playhouse, and seemed pretty much sold out when I went yesterday.

In the tenement apartments of St. Louis, the Wingfield family struggle to make ends meet. As America is ravaged by the Depression, Amanda clings to memories of her idyllic youth in the South, where she was wooed by scores of rich and handsome suitors. With her husband long gone and her own days of courtship over she is determined to find her daughter a husband. But Laura is painfully shy. She plays with her collection of glass animals and lives in a world of her own. And Amanda's son, Tom, an aspiring poet in a dead-end job, secretly dreams of escape.

The performances are thoughlly compelling- especially Imogen Stubbs, who plays the mother. You quickly get over the southern American accents, which initially sounded a bit wierd. The past few plays I went to have been big story lines, with either loads happening or faster paced, this isn't, its more a concentration on a family life, all set in their front room. I didnt realise but it was a  kind of self portrait of Williams early life, and feels like the preamble to On The Road, just before Jack Kerouac sets off on his cross-country adventure, he has to deal with his family buisness- that being his sisters spazzy leg and mothers moidering. The Glass Menagerie (collection of glass animals) seems to be an alagory (oooohhh) for his sister, who never does anything, except play with her bits of glass, one of which breaks.

The Orchard Restaurant

Yesterday was Amys birthday, so as is traditional, we went for a meal. Last time wasn't great- Bistro Franc on Valentines, a nice enough place, but average at best food- the only reason to go perhaps the offers they have on. This time however we tried The Orchard, a place nearish home, and has changed hands 3 times in 3 years. It was full of a couple of Dot-Artists work which was nice, but was very quiet (we went early to catch the theatre tho, so this was expected). 

For starters I had King prawns and saffron rice, Amy had Mushroom tarte with poached egg and holandaise sauce. I'd never really had saffron before, but its bloody nice, and I see why its megabucks. Amy probably won this round, despite my prawns being awesome (funny looking ones, sourced from somewhere where strange prawns come from), Amys tarte was perfect- crisp and creamy. For main I went for Lamb, Amys chicken, both perfectly cooked, mine in mint/red jelly sauce, amys in a creamier one, compred to the Lamb I had at Bistro Franc, this was a mile away, little fat, a clean sauce a dauphinoise (? spelling) potatoes. 

I had pears and armagnac prunes to finish (yes, it was due to the inclusion of Armagnac), Amy Creme Brule.

2 beers, 2 wines, 2 coffees, all for £40. Bistro Franc was £60. The half price food offer is on at the moment, and I cant recommend enough.

Every book i've read

Before

Dahl, roald- fantastic mr fox
Dahl, roald- b.f.g
Dahl, roald- charlies chocolate factory
Dahl, roald- Charlie and the great glass elevator
Dahl, roald- Georges marvellous medicine
Dahl, roald- James and the giant peach
Dahl, roald- matilda
Dahl, roald- the twits
Dahl, roald- fantastic mr fox
Dahl, roald- witches
Dahl, roald- Esio trot
Dahl, roald- Danny the champion of the world
Larson, Gary- The Far side Gallery 3
Lee, laurie- Cider with rosie
Roth, Phillip- Portnoys complaint
Shakespeare, William- Romeo and Juliet
Shakespeare, William- Macbeth
Stienbeck, John -Of mice and men
Tarentino, Quentin- Pulp Fiction
Watterson, Bill- The essential Calvin & Hobbes
Watterson, Bill- Something under the bed is drooling:
Watterson, Bill- The indespensable Calvin & Hobbes
Watterson, Bill -Calvin & Hobbes tenth anniversary book
Watterson, Bill -Calvin & Hobbes: Homicidal psycho jungle cat
Watterson, Bill- The Authoritative Calvin and Hobbes
Watterson, Bill- The Calvin and Hobbes: Days Are Just Packed
Watterson, Bill- There's Treasure Everywhere: Calvin & Hobbes
Welsh, Irvine- Trainspotting

2002
Bryson, bill- notes from a small island
Harris, Joanne- Blackberry wine
Hornby, Nick -How to be good
Hornby, Nick- About a boy
Janis Mink- Marcel Duchamp
Janis Mink- H R Giger
Kesey, ken- One flew over the cuckoos nest
Karouac, Jack- On the road
McCarthy, pete- McCarthys bar
McCourt, Frank- Angelas ashes
Wood, chris- The pre-raphealites

2003
Collings, Matthew- Blimey!
Harris, Joanne- Coastliners
Harris, Joanne- Chocolat
Harris, Joanne- Three quarters of the orange
Hornby, Nick -High Fidelity
Millington, Mill- Things me and my girlfriend argue about
Parsons, Tony- Man and boy
Sharpe, Tom- Vintage stuff
Sharpe, Tom- The great pursuit
Sharpe, Tom- The Throwback
Sharpe, Tom- Wilt
Vonnegut, Kurt- Breakfast of champions

2004
Ali, Monica- Brick lane
Alighari, dante- Inferno
Ballard, J.G- Empire of the sun
Brown, Dan- The da vinci code
Brown, Dan- Deception point
Brown, Dan- Digital fortress
Brown, Dan- Angels and demons
Byatt, A.S- Possession
Chello, Paulo- The Alchemist
DBC Pierre- Vernon god little
Fox, Simon- Cracking the da vinci code
Goethe, JWV- Faust part1
Haddon, Mark- Curious incident of the dog in the night
Harris, Joanne- Holy Fools
Heller, Zoe- Notes on a scandal
Heller. Joesph- Catch 22
Huxley, Aldous- Brave new world
Ishiguro, Kazou- The remains of the day
Mattell, Yann- Life of pi
Nicholls, David- Starter for ten
Pearl, Matthew- The dante club
Richards, Ben- The mermaid and the drunks
Safran fowe, Jonathan- Everything is illuminated
Sallinger, J.D- Catcher in the rye
Sebold, Alice- Lucky
Sebold, Alice- Lovely bones
Tracy, P.J -Want to play?
Vonnegut, Kurt- Slapstck, or lonesome no more

2005
Baltic gallery- Contemporary curators in conversation
Baltic gallery- Contemporary curators in conversation
Caldwell, ian- & Thomasson, dustin The rule of four
Camus, Albert- The outsider
Cervantes- Don quixote part 1
Cervantes- Don quixote part 2
Coben, Harlen- Just one look
Dylan, bob- Cronicles part 1
Faulks, sebastian- The girl at the Lion D'Orr
Flaubert, Gustave- Madame Bovary
Harris, Joanne- Jigs n reels
Hawkins, Stephen- A brief history of time
Homer- The oddysey
Macchivelli, niccolo- The prince
Milne, A A- Winnie the pooh
Milne, A A- House on pooh corner
seneca- On the shortness of life
Stallabrass, Julian- Art incorporated
Stoker, bram- Dracula
Samoza, Jose Carlos- The art of murder
Thompson, Hunter S- Fear and loathing in Las Vegas
Tolstoy, leo- Anna Karenina
Tracy, P.J- Live bait
Tracy, P.J- Dead run
Van Sant, gus- pink
Virgil- The aeonid
Wells, H G- War of the worlds
Zafon, carlos ruiz- The shadow of the wind
Zephariah, Benjamin- Too black, Too strong

2006
Banks, iain- the wasp factory
Banks, iain- The crow road
Barnes, Julian- Flauberts parrott
Barnes, Julian- Arthur and George
Bukowski, Charles- Women
Cale, John- Whats welsh for zen?
Collins, Matthew- This is modern art
Golding, William- Lord of the flies
Hollinghurst, Alan- The line of beauty
Irwin Chusid- Songs in the key of Z
Ishiguro, Kazou- Never let me go
Joyce, James- Dubliners
Larkin, Phillip- High windows
Martel, Yann- The facts behinf the helsinki roccamotos
McCall Smith, Alexander- The cupboard full of life
Murakami, Haruki- Kafka on the shore
Murakami, Haruki- The wind up bird chronicle
Peel, john- margrave of the marshes
Pirsig, Robert M- Zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance
Slater, Nigel- Toast

2007
Banks, Iain- Canal dreams
Burroughs, William- Last words
Cash, Johnny- CASH
Chelho, Paulo- The Zahir
Cook, William- Goodbye again: The definative Peter Cook & Dudley Moore
Dostoyevsky, Fyodor- Crime & Punishment
Ennis, Garth & Dillon, Steve- Preacher: Gone to Texas
Ennis, Garth & Dillon, Steve- Preacher: Until the End of the World
Ennis, Garth & Dillon, Steve- -Preacher: Proud Americans
Ennis, Garth & Dillon, Steve- -Preacher: Ancient History
Ennis, Garth & Dillon, Steve- -Preacher: Dixie Fried
Ennis, Garth & Dillon, Steve- -Preacher: War in the Sun
Ennis, Garth & Dillon, Steve- -Preacher: Salvation
Jane Connety & Josephine Lanyon -Ghosting: The role of the archive in new media art
Kerouac, Jack- Vanity of Dulouz
Milton, John- Paradise Lost
Murakami, Haruki- The wild sheep chase
Patrick, Julian- Frog Trainers Handbook
Spencer, Amy- D.I.Y The rise of low-fi culture
Spiegelman, Art- Maus
Vonnegut, Kurt -Slaughterhouse 5
2008
Amsler, Kurt -Complete divers guide to the Mediterranean
Bauby, Jean Dominique- The diving bell and the butterfly
Bernstein, Carl & Woodward, Bob- All the presidents men
Capote, Truman- In cold blood
Charrierre, Henri- Papillion
Eggers, Dave- You shall know our velocity
Faulks, Sebasitan- Birdsong
Hader, Dori- Mingering Mike
Karouac, Jack- Satori in Paris
Mailor, Norman- Naked and the dead
Mitchell, David - Cloud Atlas
Repsch, Joe - The Legendary Joe Meek
Spencer, Amy - DIY: The rise of lo-fi culture

2009
Tolstoy, Leo - Family Happiness & The Devil
Gogol - Taras Bulba
Garcia Marquez, Gabriel- Love in the time of cholera
McCarthy, Cormac- No country for old men
Lewyska, Marina - Two Caravans
Hamid, Mohsin - The reluctant fundamentalist
Sobel, Dava - Longitude
Sixsmith, Martin- The Litvenenko file
Brown, James - The L.A Diaries
Akunin, Boris - The Turkish Gambit
Sacher, Louis - Holes
Bragg, Melvyn - The Adventure of English
Faber, Toby - Faberges Eggs
Larson, Gary - Far Side Gallery 4
Larson, Gary - Wildlife Preserves
Mellor, Dawn - Dawn Mellor
Critical Art Ensemble- The Molecular Invasion

2010
Clarke, Suzanne- Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell
Summerscale, Kate- The Suspicions of Mr Whitcher
Larsson, Stieg - The girl with the dragon tattoo
Winchester, Simon- The surgeon of Crowthorne
Larsson, Steig - The girl who played with fire
Kundera, Milan - The unbearable lightness of being
Patenaude, bertrand - Stalins nemesis- the exile and murder of Leon Trotsky
Pushkin- The Captains Daughter + other stories

No way home

Its a coincidence theres a few art exhibition 'reviews' in a row, I've no intention to keep it going, but I did go to No Way Home recently above The Railway pub, it had creeped into my facebook feed, but otherwise I didnt know it was on.
A year or so ago a few people (myself included) put on some mini exhibitions in our houses and flats, not many people came, and at least 50% of the objective was an excuse to get drunk (only a slightly higher percentage than a normal P.V). It did give you the chance to see art in a different setting though, which is whats going on here.
Its become inanely boring going to the same venues, who have whitewashed their walls, and almost zero character of the building remained (The Blade Factory in The A Foundation being a notable exception). A reason I enjoyed the recent Arena exhibition was because it seemed to focus on the interesting space as much as the artwork. Above The Railway is normal rooms, all carpeted, a bit scruffy and derelict, perfect for an exhibition.
The work included fitted excellently together- all was reasonably lo-fi, quite young feeling, it was one of the few exhibitions you feel like there might be a new crop of artists coming through (only Red Wires Alan Williams was a familiar face). Various series's of small drawings and paintings adorned most areas, and some guy started scrawling graffiti one one wall (I left as he was starting, it felt too much like a performance, which in turn made it seem to art-gallery like, something that was otherwise refreshingly not apparent).
I dont bother remembering names, and any recomendation to see the show is pointless, as it finishes tomorrow, but it was good anyways.

Look at the size of my theme

 Ellen Gallagher

Two major exhibitions in Liverpool at the moment seem to try and cover an enormous amount of ground, to varying degrees of success . What is basically 'Art by Black People' (Afromodern at TATE Liverpool) and 'Art by Women' (The Rise of Women Artists at The Walker) try and encapsulate a whole history of both black artists and female artists.
The approach is fairly similar in both exhibitions- a potted and selected history of the genres (if subjects this big can be described as genres), in a kind of hodge-podge of artists that are only connected by their colour/gender.
Afromodern certainly comes off best from the two - especially as the theme is slightly tied down by its sub-heading (Journeys across the Atlantic or something similar) so does at least restrict the theme to a manageable amount. Beginning with a neat voodoo documentary and ending with what was my favourite piece- Ellen Gallacher work (above, I have no idea what its called). Theres stuff in between all this, but I cant remember what- a Basquiat, but I've gone off Basquiat a bit.

The Rise of Women Artists also have some standout pieces - some ears by Louise Bourgouis, a couple of old paintings by people I'd never heard of, but I was so disillusioned by such a vague a theme, that I couldn't concentrate on the artwork, especially the older works, many of which have been shown before. It almost ignores feminism (a info panel is about it), and concentrates on any artwork available to hand by a female, some of which is certainly worth seeing (I wish I could remember the artist who painted Chinese designs on skulls - they were neat).
I am fully aware women had a tough time getting in shows and whatnot, but this is a massively out of date suggestion to say this a current problem - only a couple of weeks after The Armoury Show in NY- which included more women than men.
Maybe we're doomed to an endless supply of shows about or by women, and the gender issue is an eternal solution to gaps in a galleries programme.

Little Otik

The 'Weirdest film I've seen' list must have a few contenders- Lynch's Eraserhead of course, Jodorowski's The Holy Mountain blew me away the first time I saw that, but Jan Svankmajers Little Otik now must be a serious contender. I'm a fan of Svankmajers short films, and his version of Alice in Wonderland was surely as weird as Johnny Depp (although I'm yet to see this), but even waiting until 1.00am for this to even start was a stretch (it finished at 3.30am!).

Basically a family who cannot have a baby instead turn to making a wooden baby, which turns alive, grows massive, and eats people. Its over two hours long, so obviously theres a bit more to it, but the middle section is dull as hell, so thats the important bits.

Some of the characters you cant wait to be eaten, mainly the wife and paedo old man- not since I saw Grizzly Man have I wished someone from a film would be devoured, and at least the old man is. Typically of Svankmajer he often turns to animation to describe the wooden baby, whose huge by the end of the film, and has an eyeball in its mouth. 

Despite an ambigous ending, and a boring middle section, any fan of strangeness would enjoy this

Collusion at Arena

I've been on a P.V sabbatical really this year- I've only been to a handful, but not only is Arena is on the way home, the obvious dedication behind putting on shows in such a diddy gallery deserves commendation.
A gallery this size (about 400 sq ft) really lends itself to one thing best- a single site specific piece, which is what Rich White and Brychan Tudor have done here.
Not being familiar with Rich's work, and only having seen a few pieces of Brychans (at The Wolstenholme, where he was a member), I came in reasonably unaware as to what was going on, despite the mini-flood of emails and texts of press releases, which always are scarcely read.
After the customary bar visit I loitered in the gallery, half concentrating on the projection. I was surely a prime target for the work, someone who just came to the P.V, and wasn't concentrating on what was going on- I was more concious of getting in the way of one of the four projectors beaming light from behind the audiences feet (I would have preferred if they were hung higher, the illusions would have worked better without people stood in front of the projectors).
Only by switching your focus to the actual wall rather than the projection (thus being of the wall that it is being projected on, but including the view outside of Cains Brewery which was visible in the first few Arena exhibitions before the window was boarded up) do you realize the scale of the build that has gone on. The gallery wall is angled at zigzags outward into the space in a kind of white architectural cubist dream gallery, but the four projections give them impression the wall is flat, a subtle trick of the eye reminiscent of Laurence Payots interventions. The more you look, faint impressions of imagery become clearer, much of which seemingly drawn on the local setting, and businesses surrounding Elevator  Building (where Arena is now housed).
Evidently this was a perfect combination of artists (apparently they didnt know each other before this), as their styles combine to pick out the "unique architectural features of Arena Gallery and draws on the history of the Elevator Building" in a subtle and very pleasing way.  I thoroughly recommend visiting this show, which is on till 3rd April Thursday - Saturday, and hope after Jack Welsch leaves his post as gallery programmer in May, the gallery continues in this vein.

The girl with the bigger dragon tattoo

Ive written what, five posts so far? Its probably too early to repeat a subject, but today we went to watch the film version of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.
This year I've generally been reducing the stuff I do to working, painting, eating and reading- and the latter part has been recently occupied by Steig Larsson's Millenium trilogy (I finished the second part last night- 'The Girl who Played with Fire', but will refrain from writing a blog about it, as I dont want this to be some Steig Larsson blog- needless to say its imperitive you read it, its fantastic).
Its frequently frustrating when films deviate from a book you love, as this one does on some points, however it only serves to make the film more coherent. Elements that were perhaps superflous in the book have been minimised, and it makes for a well paced, very European, cracking thriller that fully does justice to Larsson. The setting is perfect in a remote village in Sweden, that is constantly filled with eerie snowscapes and the film doesnt hold back from the stronger elements of the book- mainly the bumming the main character takes (Lisbeth Salander player by Noomi Repace- above), nor does it make any of the characters seem anything but normal people (something that'll be missing I guess in the Hollywood version, due in 2012, with some douchbag from Twilight).
As the mystery of what happened to Harriet Vanger 40 years ago gather momentum, multiple murders are discovered, and journalist Michel Blomquivst and hacker Lisbeth Salander get themselves wrapped in a whole host of unruly shenanigans that I can't wait to continue in the next film.
I'll finish on something that'll make me sound like a dick film reviewer who knows what he's doing- it also has a cracking score.

Worst films list is updated

Last week I saw this vomit inducing cacophony of bullshit, which prompted a conversation about mine and Amys worst films. Amys was Eyes Wide Shut, which also makes my top (or bottom?) five- we saw it a while ago, but it burned a hatred in ours minds so deep, it will never be forgotten.
Some notable atrocities according to Josh that don't make the list are Tremors 3, Titanic (obviously), Coco before Chanel (not really as bad as the rest, but pretty damn shit considering the hype),
Also in there would be:

1) Bridget Jones: Edge of Reason
2) The Postman
3) Save the last dance
4) Eyes Wide Shut
5) House of Wax (remake, still in the bottom 5, despite having Paris Hilton stabbed in the face)

Possible updates or additions to come, when the defences to the darkened forgotten region of the back of my mind are breached, and I remember them.

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

If you even slightly follow fiction, or film, or even just have your eyes open, you will might well have realized this book and film are everywhere at the moment.
That's because its insanely good.
Lisbeth Salander is a shit hot freelance P.I- despite being young, having tattoos and piercings and stuff. She meets journalist Mikael Blomkvist and together they try and unravel the mystery of what happened to 16 year old Harriet Vanger, who disappeared from the secluded island 40 years ago.
This is the first part of The Millenium Trilogy, and I've just bought the second and third parts. The film comes out I think in March, and its cast with all Swedish people, so its not some crappy American interpretation or anything.
It kinda remind me of Insomnia with Pacino mixed with The Wasp Factory...but with loads of sex violence.

Your pulling my Legg

Today Sir Thomas Legg's report regarding the expenses scandal came out (it seems to have 'come out' every week for 4 months), and MPs are told to repay £1.12m. Good, no problems there, obviously in terms of politics its not a huge amount, but on principle, its great news.

But, about half way down this BBC article it casually mentions "Some MPs have criticised Sir Thomas's audit - which itself cost £1.16m".

I'm not one to moan about politics much, I leave that to my colleague Chris's blog. But after months on scandal, the one thing at the back of my mind was, at least we're (taxpayers) getting a bit of money back, whatever it is. But it turns out, the whole thing has cost us another £400,000 or so.
Yeah, we've probably saved future money that would have been stolen, the principles are great, but it leaves a sour taste in my mouth to know the whole thing has left taxpayers even further out of pocket.
Right, thats the first and last time i'll mention taxpayers. promise

Spanglish

Anything featuring Adam Sandler now comes with the obligatory banter between me and my girlfriend. "Um, okay. How about this? Adam Sandler is like, in love with some girl, but then it turns out that the girl is actually a golden retriever, or something" routine by South Parks Eric Cartman.
Basically the suggestion that anything with Sandler is shit, and this is no exception. The plot is basically some Mexican (?) house cleaner comes and live with Sandler and his atrociously acted wife (Tea Leoni should never have been hired again after this, its amazingly awful) and Sandler and the Mexican get it on.
It took me about an hour to realize it wasn't Penelope Cruz, and instead was Paz Vega who mysteriously learns English mid way through, presumably while the camera was watching Sandler piss around trying to act annoyed with his stupid wife.
I hated this film, and have no idea why I sat through it, let alone why i'm writing about it.

Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell

I have just finished this 1006 page monster by Susanna Clarke which has taken almost all of January. I generally have a problem with a lot of female authors, whether I have only read crap ones I'm not sure, but I have found many to be the over-descriptive and prone to getting sidetracked (an enormous generalization, but it has made me wary of some books); so I entered this with trepidation.

Its about 1840, and Mr Norrell, an aging magician sets his sights on restoring magic to England single-handedly, something that has been lost for around 300 years. After expelling almost all other magicians due to his opinion they were lame, he takes on what becomes to be his genius protoge- Jonathan Strange.

Strange soon becomes England's darling after his work with Wellington in helping defeat Napoleon, but tensions between the two magicians grow increasingly, with Strange's bolder use of magic and desires to house a school of magicians not fitting with Norrells more conservative use.

The book is written as if it were an actual history of magic pre-Daniels- the rewriting of history is becoming more common in art (something I practice in painting) and literature, and it is done to great extent throughout, Clarkes frequent footnotes (sometimes a few pages long) helps to annotate a subject that has been stripped clean of its actual history, and reinterpretated by Clarke.

I found this thoughly enjoyable, I kinda wished the history Clarke wrote about was real, because not only was it much more exciting than I would imagine magic's real history is, but it was so well described, I would have felt I knew the full ins-and-outs of magical history. It definitely could have been shortened, a few paragraphs, and even characters were reasonably pointless, but on the whole, damn fine.