I don’t really read the papers any more, but usually have an inkling of what’s hot and not from a few forays onto heatworld.com and the Guardian website, in that order. Thus I can reassure myself that all is right in the world because everyone agrees with me.
I was therefore much offended and upset to find that barely a peep of applause had been directed towards a recent BBC1 offering, Roger and Val Have Just Got In. Surprisingly enough, the usually loathsome Comment Is Free-ers had it right this time, and have already flagged up this disparity between quality and coverage. Because I have too much self-respect to join them on their platform of Hate and Misguidance, I’ll put in my 50 p here.
The programme occupied a small slot on Friday nights, and at first glance appeared to be a meek glance at middle-class coupledom without the added mayhem of the Outnumbered enfants prodiges. Roger and Val have just got in. And, well, don’t do much after that. They have a cuppa and too many biscuits, dissect their respective days, harpoon their colleagues, all the while reassuring each other of their righteousness in this regard. They decide what to have for tea, faff around annoyingly, and have ludicrous arguments. So far, so pleasant. It might sound a bit of a two-person Royle Family pastiche, but even if the show had strummed along for 6 episodes in this gentle fashion, as most reviewers clearly thought it would, Roger and Val would still have been great. It celebrates a loving relationship in all its unique eccentricities, who are, granted, a bit boring on paper, but adorable and at times hilarious because of their whimsical natures and steadfast team spirit.
However, what makes its apparent disregard even more aggravating, is that it is very quickly clear that underneath the warming sight of Val’s giant Home-Ec. Lasagnes and Roger’s obsession with grasses lurks a terrible, unspeakable sadness. A photo wistfully stared at, an empty room, the recounting of a look full of pity. Roger and Val lost their baby boy many years ago, and their constant chatter only masks the silence that should have been filled with the noise a teenager raiding the fridge and moaning. The revelation of this back-story is not what carries the show to its glory, though. As should be the case, their failure to openly discuss this loss and the continuing impact it has on their lives eventually explodes in their faces. Suddenly, it’s just Roger getting in, and Val politely ringing the doorbell.The climatic episodes had my boyfriend and me clutching each other long after they ended, and rejoicing in our own precious romance. Roger and Val achieves what many television dramas earnestly promise but fail to see through: a sophisticated dark comedy that manages to be unbearably harrowing and life affirming all at once. Watch it and weep; watch it or weep.
Tuesday, 28 September 2010
Saturday, 5 June 2010
Brighton Festival Reviews and Other Things
The last couple of months have been busy busy, what with my amazing week at Radio 4, and 3 weeks reviewing the various Brighton Festival shows, and finishing the first year of my MA with a resounding 86.
In the next few weeks I have some more exciting stuff a-foot: firstly, meeting with the Radio 4 General Factual commissioner about a collaboration idea. I'm so excited about this, although who knows what exactly will come of it. In theory a collaborative Dphil with Radio 4, and my own programme, that's the dream anyway. But she's a busy lady so just the fact that she's giving me her time bodes well.
After that I'm stewarding for the International Auto/Biographical LHR conference, which is paid and means I get the fee waivered plus should get to meet some Oral History gods such as Ally Portelli and Ally Thomson.
Finally, I'm going to be running an oral history workshop organised by a lottery heritage funded project in Kent! I've always thought I'd do a good job at teaching, but that was before I imagined having to keep talking for the whole day and explain things. Uh oh...
OTHER than that, just enjoying Brighton in the sun, looking for an extra and proper job, looking forward to mine and Alex's 4 year anniversary!
Link to my most of my reviews on Unlimited Media's website here.
In the next few weeks I have some more exciting stuff a-foot: firstly, meeting with the Radio 4 General Factual commissioner about a collaboration idea. I'm so excited about this, although who knows what exactly will come of it. In theory a collaborative Dphil with Radio 4, and my own programme, that's the dream anyway. But she's a busy lady so just the fact that she's giving me her time bodes well.
After that I'm stewarding for the International Auto/Biographical LHR conference, which is paid and means I get the fee waivered plus should get to meet some Oral History gods such as Ally Portelli and Ally Thomson.
Finally, I'm going to be running an oral history workshop organised by a lottery heritage funded project in Kent! I've always thought I'd do a good job at teaching, but that was before I imagined having to keep talking for the whole day and explain things. Uh oh...
OTHER than that, just enjoying Brighton in the sun, looking for an extra and proper job, looking forward to mine and Alex's 4 year anniversary!
Link to my most of my reviews on Unlimited Media's website here.
Wednesday, 3 March 2010
Saturday, 27 February 2010
'This is the 6 o'clock news with Isabelle A-B'
Well, I have an interview with Radio 4! I'm pretty scared now and can't help imagining everyone else will just be better than me. They will probably ask me to talk about a recent favourite programme and my mind will go blank: 'err, the shipping forecast was quite good the other day...'. Going to have to do some serious mental buffing up.
Also finally got my application in for ThreeWeeks to be a reviewer, lets hope that goes well too.
Yesterday my long time friend Anna came to stay, which was lovely. We oddly got a bit tearful on saying goodbye. We used to see each other about 3 times a year as her parents bought our gatehouse off my parents to use as a holiday home. We could dwell happily in the knowledge that we would see each other without having to even think about it. And now we have to make the effort, and fit each other in amidst other friends, boyfriends, work, degrees. I still feel in a way like I used to, jealous that she has other friends and an exciting life when she leaves. When I was growing up I lived for her family's visits, and was so envious when they left. They could just forget me, and I was alone amidst the trees and the fields and the French. Even though I live in England now, I still feel like that lonely and jealous little girl, especially because I've found it so hard making friends.
Having said that, my sad efforts to meet people here have paid off, a bit. I put an ad up on the Sussex student website to find people with whom to talk French- a cunning ploy to play the language card when really I could have just said : 'be my friend? p.s: Please?'
No luck so far though, the two people I've met don't really speak French well enough and aren't really my cuppa. I won't be libellous just in case but I felt both times like I was on a bad blind date and was eyeing the exit. I did in fact fake a phone call emergency and spent the rest of the evening grimly laughing with Alex.
On the other hand I had a really nice coffee with a girl I work with, she is Swedish and looks what I would look like if I was Swedish. That is to say, blonde, tanned and slim with a cute accent, as opposed to blonde, stocky and milky-white, with an accent of indeterminate social origin. FRIEND!!!! Trying to remain cool and aloof...
Finally, I submitted a very short fiction for the QuickFictions competition, pasted after the jump.
Spiralling
I have been making spirals for a long time. At the moment, I am on holiday, and the yard here is covered with chalky stones. I have gathered some, and I crouch and take them out of my pockets. It’s hot and my neck prickles, I feel the sweat gathering in between the folds of fat on my back. I have to ignore this, because the spirals must be carefully thought out, each stone a little smaller than the next as they twist towards the center. I try my best, but I am still not quite there. I am going to make as many as possible, and hope that their numbers and the huge expanse of sky here will make up for my flaws.
At dinner I eat as much as possible, and make sure to tuck bread and cheese, and any leftovers from the kitchen, into a napkin. I keep it under my bed for the journey. They are all talking about their paintings, but I slip away to the garden and sit with my back to the studio wall. If I listen carefully, beyond the crickets, maybe I will hear something.
On my last day, we go to the river. Nigel tells us to be careful, it rained in the night and there is a power station downstream. I wade in up to my waist, and push out, try and push my limbs against the hard green water. I roll onto my back, and look at my feet, floating ahead of me encased in my sandals. I can see the others waving from the bank as I drift by, I try and wave back but i’m too comfortable to raise my arm. I settle into the water and look up, and up, and some weeds gently swirl around me.
Also finally got my application in for ThreeWeeks to be a reviewer, lets hope that goes well too.
Yesterday my long time friend Anna came to stay, which was lovely. We oddly got a bit tearful on saying goodbye. We used to see each other about 3 times a year as her parents bought our gatehouse off my parents to use as a holiday home. We could dwell happily in the knowledge that we would see each other without having to even think about it. And now we have to make the effort, and fit each other in amidst other friends, boyfriends, work, degrees. I still feel in a way like I used to, jealous that she has other friends and an exciting life when she leaves. When I was growing up I lived for her family's visits, and was so envious when they left. They could just forget me, and I was alone amidst the trees and the fields and the French. Even though I live in England now, I still feel like that lonely and jealous little girl, especially because I've found it so hard making friends.
Having said that, my sad efforts to meet people here have paid off, a bit. I put an ad up on the Sussex student website to find people with whom to talk French- a cunning ploy to play the language card when really I could have just said : 'be my friend? p.s: Please?'
No luck so far though, the two people I've met don't really speak French well enough and aren't really my cuppa. I won't be libellous just in case but I felt both times like I was on a bad blind date and was eyeing the exit. I did in fact fake a phone call emergency and spent the rest of the evening grimly laughing with Alex.
On the other hand I had a really nice coffee with a girl I work with, she is Swedish and looks what I would look like if I was Swedish. That is to say, blonde, tanned and slim with a cute accent, as opposed to blonde, stocky and milky-white, with an accent of indeterminate social origin. FRIEND!!!! Trying to remain cool and aloof...
Finally, I submitted a very short fiction for the QuickFictions competition, pasted after the jump.
Spiralling
I have been making spirals for a long time. At the moment, I am on holiday, and the yard here is covered with chalky stones. I have gathered some, and I crouch and take them out of my pockets. It’s hot and my neck prickles, I feel the sweat gathering in between the folds of fat on my back. I have to ignore this, because the spirals must be carefully thought out, each stone a little smaller than the next as they twist towards the center. I try my best, but I am still not quite there. I am going to make as many as possible, and hope that their numbers and the huge expanse of sky here will make up for my flaws.
At dinner I eat as much as possible, and make sure to tuck bread and cheese, and any leftovers from the kitchen, into a napkin. I keep it under my bed for the journey. They are all talking about their paintings, but I slip away to the garden and sit with my back to the studio wall. If I listen carefully, beyond the crickets, maybe I will hear something.
On my last day, we go to the river. Nigel tells us to be careful, it rained in the night and there is a power station downstream. I wade in up to my waist, and push out, try and push my limbs against the hard green water. I roll onto my back, and look at my feet, floating ahead of me encased in my sandals. I can see the others waving from the bank as I drift by, I try and wave back but i’m too comfortable to raise my arm. I settle into the water and look up, and up, and some weeds gently swirl around me.
Wednesday, 17 February 2010
Getting a lil' better
After my intermittent existential crises during which I bore all and sundry about how I'm DEFINITELY going to quit my job this time, no really, things took a good turn.
I no longer have to work for Mrs Hitler (slight exaggeration- slight, mind) which filled me with unabounded joy. No longer do I have to trudge 35 minutes into the dull slurry of the suburbs, no longer do I have to make sure to polish the kitchen plug hole, no longer do I have to get worried about stealing her biscuits.
Hurrah!
In retrospect I was making alot of fuss about nothing but I have felt immeasurably better since stopping.
Then I got sent my first mark in the post: 80% ! I was distinctly underwhelmed, mainly because I was by myself and didn't really have anyone to tell or compare with. I am such a bloody downer. Somehow I feel that it's normal at Masters level, and as usual feel like a fraud because I never over-tax myself when it comes to work.
I also finished my application for work experience with radio 4, so fingers crossed. I don't hold much hope but then again you never know, and I did work on my spiel alot.
I have come up with a research idea for my dissertation too, which I'm feeling quite excited about, and shouldn't be too hard to get together. I've been enjoying familiarising myself with recording equipment, and also getting Alex to show me a bit about cameras. We are clearly going to end up as 'husbandandwifeteam' as Kaki from The Family loved to say.
Went to see Youth in Revolt yesterday- loved it. Review to come...
Going to watch Mad Men, wee!
I no longer have to work for Mrs Hitler (slight exaggeration- slight, mind) which filled me with unabounded joy. No longer do I have to trudge 35 minutes into the dull slurry of the suburbs, no longer do I have to make sure to polish the kitchen plug hole, no longer do I have to get worried about stealing her biscuits.
Hurrah!
In retrospect I was making alot of fuss about nothing but I have felt immeasurably better since stopping.
Then I got sent my first mark in the post: 80% ! I was distinctly underwhelmed, mainly because I was by myself and didn't really have anyone to tell or compare with. I am such a bloody downer. Somehow I feel that it's normal at Masters level, and as usual feel like a fraud because I never over-tax myself when it comes to work.
I also finished my application for work experience with radio 4, so fingers crossed. I don't hold much hope but then again you never know, and I did work on my spiel alot.
I have come up with a research idea for my dissertation too, which I'm feeling quite excited about, and shouldn't be too hard to get together. I've been enjoying familiarising myself with recording equipment, and also getting Alex to show me a bit about cameras. We are clearly going to end up as 'husbandandwifeteam' as Kaki from The Family loved to say.
Went to see Youth in Revolt yesterday- loved it. Review to come...
Going to watch Mad Men, wee!
Wednesday, 10 February 2010
Random Review 1: Avatar, Dir. James Cameron
So clearly it pays, quite literally, to take a 10 year break between two creative projects. Over a decade since Titanic, Cameron has done it again, breaking his own record with another special-effect marathon, Avatar.
I have a blind spot where Titanic is concerned, and it is perhaps for this reason that I somehow expected more from Avatar, although on reflection I'm not sure why. Even on paper the film didn't seem that exciting- the concept of futuristic space travel for the purpose of mining a foreign planet is a bit familiar (hello, Moon, Ghosts of Mars, etc, etc.) and whilst the idea of exploring this new world and the deep intimacies of its inhabitants as an avatar was vaguely interesting, it felt more like a SecondLifer's wet-dream. I can almost imagine a 'creative panel' of grey-faced sweaty men sitting in a dark room saying 'Hey, hey, GUYS, wouldn't it be COOL if I was, like, BLUE, and really TALL, and, and, I got to have SEX in a glowing jelly-fish forest, with this THUPER HOT blue lady with a TAIL???'
Other from an obvious lack of originality, Avatar is sometimes embarrassingly bad, in plot and in dialogue. The basic premise sees brutish military men crashing around in giant robot suits, attacking the 'indigenous', who fill the role of noble savage with gusto whilst they try and defend their pure environment and simple lifestyle. This conceit would be more at home in a 1940s colonial film, or indeed in the 1840s when it wasn't taken for granted that it's not ok to stamp all over someone else's country.
Cameron's supposed environmental message is drowned out by the self-consciously macho exclamations of the soldiers ('take that, BITCH') and the obligingly savage grunts and shouts of the natives, which completely de-values any suggestion that they're not, like, savage.
On the other hand, the visuals were quite interesting, the forest scenes in particular were beautiful in the way that some anime films can be, undulating plants, bizarre creatures, all coloured in psychedelic pastels and fluorescent. In 3D, this was worth the watch, but did not ultimately make up for the metaphorical mulch the rest of the film was.
Perhaps what has made the film's success though, is not just the pre-release hype, but is probably the fact that is was comfortable. I didn't love it, I didn't hate it. Like many products on a super-market shelf, it just slipped right into my trolley out of vague interest. I'm not sure Cameron would like this prognosis, but then again, he's probably too busy to notice my indifference, taken up as he is with laughing all the way to the bank.
I have a blind spot where Titanic is concerned, and it is perhaps for this reason that I somehow expected more from Avatar, although on reflection I'm not sure why. Even on paper the film didn't seem that exciting- the concept of futuristic space travel for the purpose of mining a foreign planet is a bit familiar (hello, Moon, Ghosts of Mars, etc, etc.) and whilst the idea of exploring this new world and the deep intimacies of its inhabitants as an avatar was vaguely interesting, it felt more like a SecondLifer's wet-dream. I can almost imagine a 'creative panel' of grey-faced sweaty men sitting in a dark room saying 'Hey, hey, GUYS, wouldn't it be COOL if I was, like, BLUE, and really TALL, and, and, I got to have SEX in a glowing jelly-fish forest, with this THUPER HOT blue lady with a TAIL???'
Other from an obvious lack of originality, Avatar is sometimes embarrassingly bad, in plot and in dialogue. The basic premise sees brutish military men crashing around in giant robot suits, attacking the 'indigenous', who fill the role of noble savage with gusto whilst they try and defend their pure environment and simple lifestyle. This conceit would be more at home in a 1940s colonial film, or indeed in the 1840s when it wasn't taken for granted that it's not ok to stamp all over someone else's country.
Cameron's supposed environmental message is drowned out by the self-consciously macho exclamations of the soldiers ('take that, BITCH') and the obligingly savage grunts and shouts of the natives, which completely de-values any suggestion that they're not, like, savage.
On the other hand, the visuals were quite interesting, the forest scenes in particular were beautiful in the way that some anime films can be, undulating plants, bizarre creatures, all coloured in psychedelic pastels and fluorescent. In 3D, this was worth the watch, but did not ultimately make up for the metaphorical mulch the rest of the film was.
Perhaps what has made the film's success though, is not just the pre-release hype, but is probably the fact that is was comfortable. I didn't love it, I didn't hate it. Like many products on a super-market shelf, it just slipped right into my trolley out of vague interest. I'm not sure Cameron would like this prognosis, but then again, he's probably too busy to notice my indifference, taken up as he is with laughing all the way to the bank.
Wednesday, 3 February 2010
The Life of Luxury
Today I cleaned the flat of a rich bachelor, who owns a flat overlooking * Square and the sea. It was in a huge Victorian building also accommodating a Solitor's office. Apart from being full of rubbish 'modart' and leather sofas, it also boasted the most high tech additions I've ever seen. Of particular note was a remote control bath and shower, which can be operated from a button handily located on the bedside table, enabling the lucky bastard to run himself a warm bath before even opening his eyes. If he deigned get up, he didn't have to worry about getting his poor little feet cold, for his path to the bathroom was eased by the underfloor heating. Once there, he could watch a bit of tv, which was embedded in the towel rack.
I came home and stood under the dribble of my box shower feeling rather sorry for myself.
I felt a bit better though, because he also had tarot cards and boxes of homeopathic remedies, a definite lose then. All topped off by a signed painting by Stephen Baldwin of religious nut fame. I'll keep my magazine clippings and bare walls I think.
In other news, I was as usual perusing Jezebel and read this amazing piece on recent etymological Bible studies: apparently Eve wasn't born from Adam's rib, but from his 'Bone' or boner. Which makes alot more sense when you think about it. Also, I learnt a new trick which will definitely become a habit: Them Bible day people also swore their oaths by grasping each other's genitals! I can see that catching on in Law and Order can't you? Any news which deals a blow to religious puritanism is good news.
Jezebel
I came home and stood under the dribble of my box shower feeling rather sorry for myself.
I felt a bit better though, because he also had tarot cards and boxes of homeopathic remedies, a definite lose then. All topped off by a signed painting by Stephen Baldwin of religious nut fame. I'll keep my magazine clippings and bare walls I think.
In other news, I was as usual perusing Jezebel and read this amazing piece on recent etymological Bible studies: apparently Eve wasn't born from Adam's rib, but from his 'Bone' or boner. Which makes alot more sense when you think about it. Also, I learnt a new trick which will definitely become a habit: Them Bible day people also swore their oaths by grasping each other's genitals! I can see that catching on in Law and Order can't you? Any news which deals a blow to religious puritanism is good news.
Jezebel
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