Wednesday 27 February 2013

Rant Like You Mean It

I have become something of a hermit lately. Not quite a full on, beardy, keeping jars full of urine under my own bed kind of hermit, but definitely not as active or keen to venture outside as I usually am. The worst thing about not having a job is the lack of need to go anywhere, and it starts to filter horribly into every other aspect of life.

I haven't been out of work since I was 16. My mum had me applying for jobs before I even had a National Insurance card. All through college and uni, I had part time bar jobs and always had my own money. I gave up bar work in my final year at uni, and managed to score a sweet voluntary film festival gig. I got my first paid film job a week after I graduated and since then it's... it's been quiet. I've had the odd job here and there. I've done some unpaid 'hings. But the nagging feeling creeping up on me is that perhaps the last three years have been a total waste.

I haven't worked in a shop since my first job, so apparently am not qualified to fold clothes or stack books. I haven't worked in a bar for over a year, which for employers reads "I have forgotten everything about pouring a pint or being around other humans therefore am not a valid candidate for a job I could do in my sleep". Actual film jobs are.... well, they're pretty much non existent. I keep stumbling across internships which I'm 'too old' for, and in any case they pay less than minimum wage. Which isn't great.

So what are people supposed to do? I can't get super top jobs because I don't have experience, but I can't get experience because I can't get a job. I get angry, and frustrated, and throw 'hings (mostly tantrums, because of course I still 'temporarily' live with the parents and they wouldn't be too happy with 'hing shaped dents in the wall). I get annoyed thinking of all the decisions I should've made instead of the ones that I did, and wonder at what point I actually went wrong.

Part of me thinks I'm being stupid. I'm healthy enough, I have a home and friends and a boyface with apparently all the patience ever. I was lucky enough to get into uni not once, but twice (despite attending both for possibly all of the wrong reasons, and not getting a huge amount out of it). I know that somewhere down the line this whole experience will be a tiny blip on the overall horizon, or so everyone seems quick to tell me anyway.

It's not what you want to hear in the middle of a drought of good creative jobs, but it's... something, I suppose. In any case it beats motivational Tumblr memes. Reason number 28363 why I need to get some kind of life-shape in order: I'm actually starting to take them seriously rather than mock them endlessly like I used to. Also I'm actually starting to 'get' the trick behind Rubix cubes that doesn't involve picking the stickers off and re-applying them to make all the sides the same colour.

IF ONLY I'D SEEN THIS SOONER I WOULDN'T HAVE BROKEN MY RUBIX CUBE.

Tuesday 26 February 2013

I've Had Worse Sundays, But Needs More Gosling

It must be a sweet life being Ryan Gosling. Really. He makes super cool films, in which he even portrays head-stomping loners or shiftless alcoholics as being sympathetic and strangely likeable. He is also awesome in these films. Ryan Gosling literally does not make shit films. (I say this as I've never seen The Notebook. Apparently by admitting to this, I am waiving my right to a vagina).
From what I can tell this film is about Ryan Gosling's relationship with a giant face eater who has no regard for umbrellas.

After a distinctly indistinct reaction to Lords Of Salem, I was keen for something a bit more chewy. Maybe a bit of gritty realism, some character turmoils, Ryan Gosling in some kind of vehicle, emotional growth, Ryan Gosling seething, a densely plotted story, Ryan Gosling sans shirt...

At first glance The Place Beyond The Pines promised all of these. It was from Derek Cianfrance, helmer of ambivalence-fest Blue Valentine. I wanted to love Blue Valentine, and after a second viewing I did... not... hate it... but I couldn't quite feel the love that everyone else seemed to have for it. Still, I felt somewhat for our protagonists. They'd gotten a bit of a shitty deal. There was even an abortion scene for good measure. Because it's not a serious relationship drama without an abortion scene.

I didn't actually know anything about The Place apart from the blurb I'd read in the GFF programme. It really didn't give anything away and I decided not to read anything further about it. I'm glad I did; the film took several directions I wasn't prepared for, including an end-of-first-act finale that fully shocked me. R-Gos plays Handsome Luke, a stunt bike drivin' carnie covered in rubbish chicken-scratch tattoos. Obviously this makes him entirely more appealing for me (I worry sometimes). He catches up with last year's carnival flame Rowina (Eva Mendes, given a scraggy hair job and puffy eyes so you know she's doing serious acting). She now has *drum roll* yup, a baby.

Me and Ryan Gosling are meant to be because we have the same terrified expression when faced with a tiny human. Also nothing says "Mr Right" like a tiny knife face tattoo.

Handsome Luke decides the best way to provide for his child is to bluster in as though he's never been away, despite Rowina having a new man. One who has a home, car, money and is in every way a better choice of father figure. Still, it's to R-Gos's credit that you can't help but feel for Luke; his ham-fisted attempts at makeshift parenting are deeply flawed but there are some very sweet moments. All he wants to do is provide for the baby he feels he's neglected (despite not knowing he was a father in the first place).

It ticks all the boxes of indie relationship drama so far, huh? The film then takes a turn into Bradley Cooper's story. After Silver Linings Playbook I was fully prepared to get as involved in this as I did with Handsome Luke. After all, Luke was a 'bad egg' yet still adorably likeable. Cooper's Avery Cross is a husband, father, cop and comes from a good family. He's clearly the one we're supposed to be rooting for, right? Wrong. His story drags, his character comes across as utterly underhanded and unlikeable. Poor Rose Byrne is shoehorned into a tiny role which gives her no room to breathe. She's referred to as being a ball-buster by Avery's cop pals, because she shows concern over his premature return to work. That's it.

There's also the dreaded tacked on end section, thrusting the film 15 years into the future. It does this without any sort of character development; except that Avery's son AJ is a massive jock douchebag, and Luke's son Jason is a loner stoner at odds with his disjointed background. There were several points before this where I felt the film should've ended, but didn't. It was a nice touch, but slightly unnecessary. The leap forward would, I feel, have worked better if the film was in fact not a film, but a serial drama. There's alot of good ideas here, but it almost feels like too many.

As a character study, it has plenty of potential but there's so much going on that there's no wiggle room or space for anyone to develop fully. Characters such as Avery Cross seemed so single minded with their own agenda, it was hard to care for them. Even Handsome Luke's characterisation wasn't as rounded as it could've been, and the supporting cast are underdeveloped too. Female characters don't come across well; the contrast between Eva Mendes and Rose Byrne could've been far more interesting had they been given more than just sideshow roles.

This is by no means a bad film. It's a very well made film. It looks good, the buzzing neon of the carnival, the dusty streets of backwater upstate New York, the glorious stretch of green horizon of the title. There's no shortage of ideas on show, I just wish they'd been a little more selective. Blue Valentine's study of a relationship breakdown felt a bit claustrophobic at times but the closeness at least allowed us an insight into the characters' motivations (or lack thereof). At 140 mins it's already pretty lengthy and still there's alot that could've benefitted from some extra padding. Maybe I'll give it the benefit of the doubt and rewatch. Maybe I'll imagine how much more expansive and engaging it could've been as say, a three part drama. Maybe I'll remember that I'm not just a female in anatomical terms and actually get round to watching The Notebook. Stranger things have happened...

Monday 25 February 2013

My First Frightfest

After some serious panic-writing at uni, when I'd leave blogging or writing 'til the absolute last minute, I swore I'd never again find myself writing about all the things at once. It's not as if I even took notes. I'd literally be relying on my sketchy memory alone, which was evident more so in some things than others.

Thanks to Google Image and sweet improv skills, no one will ever know I totally fell asleep before the end of The Searchers. Perfect. Crime.

In between a couple of trips to Glasgow Film Festival and a midweek cinema trip with Mama Calgie (thank you Orange and Cineworld Unlimited cards for making it easier than ever for mother/daughter bonding times), I also made a wee trip to some museums, celebrated boyface's birthday and terrorised the roads. Sooo it's been relatively busy round these parts and yes, I fell behind in my attempts to blog. Boo me. Still, I'm nothing if not really, really unemployed so thankfully my Mondays are pretty empty, giving me time to catch up in between Four Weddings (shut up) and Come Dine With Me (I bet more people watch this than admit to it).

Friday saw my first ever trip to FrightFest, a weekend long embarrassment of gory riches. I've always wanted to go for the full weekend, but our trip was for one film and one film only... Rob Zombie's Lords Of Salem. I saw a trailer for it at the Twins Of Evil tour in November, and was super disappointed that I'd have to wait until April for official release. Thanks to my good pal beewaits I managed to sneak in early and get tickets for the film's UK premiere and have been counting down the days since January. Rob Zombie's last two offerings (Halloween and Halloween 2) have been nothing short of a bit rubbish. That said, House Of 1000 Corpses and The Devil's Rejects were hardly masterpieces, but they were shlocky and inventive enough to hold my attention.

The real gem, however, came before the main feature. Squeezed up in the nosebleed seats, we were introduced to the first episode of Norwegian comedy/thriller/whatever, Hellfjord. I was a bit squeamish when the words 'dead horse' were mentioned, but no way was I going to wuss out in a room full of horror fans. I have since tried to decsribe the sublime joy of Hellfjord using the words 'dead horse', but no one's buying. Trust me, it's so much better than that suggests. And I'm a vegetarian. You can find the trailer here. You won't regret it. Especially as it's Norwegian without subtitles therefore gives nothing away, apart from amusing Norwegian pronunciation HELLFJOOORD.

I was almost disappointed when it ended and up rolled Lords Of Salem. I'd kind of forgotten that's what we were there to see. Still, we'd been waiting for it long enough, and I had a wee gingerbread man, so I was pretty easily placated. In actual fact it wasn't as terrible as I thought. Even a terrible film can be saved if it's enjoyably terrible, but Lords captured my attention for the most part. (In no small part thanks to the fact that RZ thinks his wife is super hot and should wear as little clothes as possible at all times. I don't disagree).

Thank you, RZ, for slow tracking shots and liberally applied face paint.
 
The plot is simple enough: radio DJ and recovering addict Heidi receives a weird vinyl addressed from the cryptically titled 'Lords'. The music has a creepy effect on her, as well as several other women around Salem. Her super overfriendly landlady may or may not be involved (given that the landlady's sister is played by Dee Wallace it's easy enough to make an educated guess). Some super in depth research by local writer Francis Matthias (Bruce Davison) uncovers some 'surprising' truths about Heidi's bloodline and a link to Margaret Morgan, local coven leader and victim of the Salem Witch Trials.

The film trundled along until the last twenty minutes, after which any semblance of plot was discarded in favour of Sheri Moon Zombie riding a goat. Because of course. There was an onslaught of fake blood and gory imagery, a quick summation at the end and that... was really that. I kind of felt robbed of a payoff. We even stayed 'til the lights went up, in the hope of a wee somethin' somethin' at the end, but no. I'll no doubt make a return trip to see this when it opens on general release in April, but until then I'm actually kinda undecided how I felt about it. I did kind of love everything SMZ wore, but that's just my inner mini-mosher talking, she likes stripy 'hings and skull make up. I WILL NEVER GROW UP.

Saying that Lords Of Salem is better than the Halloween films is kind of a backhanded compliment, like saying having a cold is better than straight up dying. It's not game changing but if you like your gore in your face and a lax approach to storytelling, it's not the worst. I wish I'd been able to catch at least one more flick at FrightFest for comparison, mostly because I kinda really want to see another delicious episode of Hellfjord. I'd been hoping to catch The ABC's Of Death and Byzantium, but alas was too slow off the mark. Ah well. There's always next year. Until then, at the very least I've learned not to trust kindly faced women bearing cake. And that if I ever go under a pseudonym, it's a good idea to ensure my real name can't be found by typing said pseudonym into Google. Simple things, but valuable nonetheless.

Incidentally, just for once I'd love to see a film which deals with heroin without using a Lou Reed track. Seriously. Rather than actually shoot a heroin scene (no pun intended, for once), I'm surprised most films don't just cut to black and play a few bars of Venus In Furs.

Tuesday 19 February 2013

Old School Heroes

I don't have a Twitter account. I keep going to think about setting one up, then I just... don't. It's the myriad of hashtags and RT's and people referring to each other as @. I close the page and be put the idea to bed. I'm like the annoying dieter pal who can open a fridge, have a squint and walk away, waistline unscathed.
I have nothing really against it. I can see why it's a good idea. It normalises celebrities and makes them more accessible to us everyday shlubs. Only time will tell whether this is in fact a good idea.

The question was "where are you going, ma'am?". You're in an actual cab.
 
I think I'm just nostalgic for simpler times. It's frightening that Kim Kardashian's tweet was one of the better spelled examples I could find. I would've loved to have been witness to the Golden Age of Hollywood, when film stars existed in actual film, not gossip mags and reality shows (although Living Lohan has given me more snarky pleasure than I could've hoped for). They were proper idols; enigmatic and charismatic, and rarely seen slipping a nip in drunken public. I don't doubt that they did... I just like that we didn't see it.
 
My dad has always been into the 'classic' movies, the old black and white gangster epics, Casablanca, moving images containing John Wayne's presence. "God you don't know anything about films" I tuttted with a none more teenage eye-roll. Usually while on my way to see an underdressed, sweaty cast of aesthetically pleasing no-names get hack 'n' slashed. Once I turned 20 and got over the snark I began to realise he wasn't so wrong. The old yins really are the good yins. I love LA Confidential and like most pasty, nerdy twenty-somethings am partial to all of the Tarantino but I always feel that these films are better appreciated when you see what came before them.
 
Since I'm a top daughter I got my dad tickets for White Heat which was showing as part of Glasgow Film Festival. Since I tend to just get ideas and run wildly with them like a child with scissors I overlooked the small detail of an 11am start. DOOM. The cinema was surprisingly busy though, a testament to the lasting power that a truly good movie can have. Despite having all of the flu currently available in the Glasgow area I pulled it together and actually enjoyed it. Despite its two-hour running time it didn't drag (aside from a slight technical glitch). The ending is apparently infamous but I'm glad for once I know about it in advance. Even if I did, the experience of seeing it on the big screen would've been well worth the repeat viewing.
 
Jimmy Cagney also originated the expression "boo, you whore".
 
The action begins with a bold train robbery that involves Cagney jumping onto the top of a train. He kills people coldly for a big money heist. He starts fights and runs amok in prison, and even plots a daring escape. With hostages. It doesn't let up right until literally 'The End'. There are shorter films made for more money that don't have that kind of action.
 
Who knows, I might even be convinced to go and rewatch The Public Enemy, which I vaguely remember from a far off uni screening. And sometimes yes, it's OK to admit when a parent is right about something that you think you know everything about. It's totally a sign of being a grown up. However being the perma-rebellious teenager I am, my next visit to the film festival will be for the latest... umm.. surely cult venture from Rob Zombie, the gloriously titled Lords Of Salem. I'm fully prepared to love it in a completely opposite way to this. But I'm still not gonna tweet about it.

Monday 18 February 2013

Blogging Isn't Easy Like I Thought

I never know what to write about with these things.  Most of the ones i've attempted to start have sort of run aground. I blogged for uni but it got all heavy and technical. I attempted Tumblr but I couldn't get past all the Supernatural/Doctor Who/True Blood GIFs, or inspirational quotes pasted over a background of a suitably heavily demonstrative inspirational picture.


An overexposed feather trying to break free from a jam jar does not make it any less shameful that my biggest achievement was scraping yogurt from the front of my jumper before it set and went all crusty.

In order to actually write something worthwhile, that I would stick with, I had to then decide what I would ACTUALLY write about. Short of choosing a cool username this is the hardest part. I tried to think about what's popular, because as everyone knows, hitching onto what's popular makes you popular by association. Everyone likes style blogs right? Yes... but there are far better people who know more about that kind of thing than me. I repeat the point I made up there about yogurt jumper. I don't judge clothes by what looks good. I tend to judge them by them smelling good, i.e. when they are picked up from the clothes pile where my floor used to be. I know about films. Watching them and such, talking about them, telling people why they're wrong about them when they dislike ones I like. I know about what I get up to in my own life and while I don't know exactly what all of my thoughts mean, they make more sense (to me at least) if I have somewhere to brain dump. So I might not always be the most coherent and will probably use alot of half sentences starting with 'and'. Or 'so'.

My other biggest obstacle was my fear of no one ever wanting to read anything ever. The default setting in my head is that of awkward teenager giving a presentation in class. After thinking that one over for a while, half writing posts and deleting them or saving nonsensical drafts full of spelling mistakes, I decided I kind of didn't care (although I do. It looks cooler if I say that I don't). At the very least, it's something to keep me occupied in between applying for all the jobs ever. Apparently a good old CV and covering letter of "hello, I'm a graduate, you know you want me" just isn't enough anymore, but it's a bit of a brain drain and a total chore to boot.

So there we have it, a wee... I don't know, ice breaker? It's a start anyway. Blogging about blogging is a hard one to explain. Maybe I should've just jumped on the Instawagon instead... if only I was up in time to take pictures of my lunch at actual lunchtime.