Monthly Archive for January, 2008

Cat Power’s new on-stage persona

The new Cat Power reviewed in The Guardian by Maddy Costa:

She seems no less nervous than in her depressed, chaotic past, but in stamping out the weak parts of herself, Marshall has also destroyed everything that was aching and haunting and beautiful in her voice. The transformation is horribly disillusioning to witness.

I was running the Paramount when Cat Power played her solo show back in 2005. We had heard terrible stories about self-destructive behaviour and paralysing stage-fright, and were warned not to supply her with alcohol, but it was one of the best shows I have ever seen: ethereal and highly musical if that’s not too weird a choice of words. And she could have easily freaked out when she found out that our dressing rooms had been demolished and we were building two cinemas in the empty space. But she didn’t.

Review: Charlie Wilson’s War, Juno and more …

Charlie Wilson's War poster

The Soviet Union invaded Afghanistan on Christmas Day in 1979. They remained in the country, brutally suppressing the local resistance, until they were forced to leave in 1989: almost ten years of occupation that destroyed one country and ruined another. One side of the story was told in the recent film The Kite Runner: in it we saw a vibrant and cosmopolitan culture bombed back to the stone age by the Soviets and their equally one-eyed Taliban replacements.

For peaceniks like myself, the Soviet aggression was an inconvenient fact, difficult to acknowledge during our efforts to prevent nuclear annihilation at the hands of war-mongerers like Ronald Reagan. While we were marching for peace and disarmament, playboy Congressman Charlie Wilson (Tom Hanks) was secretly funding the Mujahideen insurgents to the tune of hundreds of millions of dollars, providing them with the weapons that would bring down the Russians.

With the help of a renegade CIA-man (wonderful Philip Seymour Hoffman), a Texan socialite (Julia Roberts), an Israeli spy (Ken Stott) and President Zia, dictator of Pakistan (Om Puri), Wilson persuaded, cajoled, threatened and coerced Congress to pay for all this - without them even knowing what it was for. Aaron Sorkin’s script is razor-sharp, often very funny, and does a great job of not spelling out all the lessons we should be learning. Charlie Wilson’s War may have brought about the end of the Cold War but it also opened up Afghanistan to the brutal fundamentalism of the Taliban, increased the influence of the Saudis in the region and indirectly led to the Iraqi poo-fight we are in now. As Wilson says, it’s all about the endgame.

Juno poster

How strange it is that two of my favourite films of the past twelve months should be about coming-to-terms with an unwanted pregnancy. Knocked Up, last year, was a broad comedy with a good heart and this year Jason Reitman’s Juno is even better: full of unexpected subtlety and nuance from a great cast working with a tremendous script from gifted newcomer Diablo Cody.

Like last year’s Hard Candy, Ellen Page plays a precocious teenager only this time she is not a homicidal revenge maniac. At only 16, she finds herself pregnant to the unlikely Paulie Bleeker (Superbads Michael Cera) and takes it upon herself to find appropriate parents for the little sea monkey growing inside her. The rich couple who sign on (Jennifer Garner and Jason Bateman) look perfect, but looks can be deceiving. Juno is an easy film to love and I can see people going back to it again and again.

Cloverfield poster

If a film has a good heart you can forgive its flaws, but what to do when it has no heart at all? Cloverfield is a modern-day retelling of a classic Hollywood monster movie and once again New York gets a terrible pounding. A group of self-absorbed yuppies are caught in the carnage and try to escape but manage to film the entire thing on their camcorder. Yeah right. Technically admirable, Cloverfield cleverly maintains the home video conceit but shaky-cam motion sickness got to me in the end.

Meet the Spartans poster

Meet the Spartans is all flaw and no redeeming feature: another miss and miss spoof of last year’s hits. Soft targets include “Ugly Betty”, “American Idol”, Paris Hilton (yawn) and 300. The Spartans were gay, apparently. And not in a good way.

The Jane Austen Book Club poster

The Jane Austen Book Club is a well-intentioned adaptation of the popular novel about a group of women (and one dude) who meet once a month to talk about their favourite author. Writer and director Robin Swicord has assembled a fine ensemble cast including Maria Bello, Kathy Baker, Amy Brenneman and Jimmy Smits but too often they are representatives of people rather than people themselves and the film is un-persusasive. Actually, that’s not entirely true: the tentative relationship between Bello’s independent hound breeder and Hugh Dancy’s shy IT guru works nicely (for the most part).

Printed in Wellington’s Capital Times on Wednesday 30 January, 2008.

Notes on screening conditions: Charlie Wilson’s War screened at a Reading Cinemas print check, 9am last Tuesday morning (thanks, Hadyn), sitting in the comfy Gold Lounge chairs; Juno screened on Sunday afternoon in Penthouse 1 (the original). It’s nice to see the Penthouse finally replacing the seats in Cinema 1 but perhaps they could think about replacing the sound system with something that wasn’t salvaged from a transistor radio. Meet the Spartans was seen at a busy Saturday matinée at Readings where the brain-dead teenagers around me hooted at every stupid, lame, joke. Cloverfield was in Readings digital cinema (Cinema 5) and looked sensational. Digital really is the future and it can’t come soon enough. I shudder to think how ill I might have felt if I’d seen Cloverfield from a wobbly, scratchy print. The Jane Austen Book Club was the second part of a Penthouse double-feature on Sunday, this time in Cinema 3 (the new one) which is splendid.

A Wireless Love Affair

Howard Hesseman is Johnny Fever in WKRP in CincinattiWhen I was sixteen or so, I was called in to the Careers’ Teacher’s office (next door to the woodwork room) for my one and only “careers” meeting. Mr Farquhar reminisced briefly about a couple of former pupils who were good enough to represent Essex at cricket and Arsenal at football, as if he had anything to do with either achievement.

He asked me what I wanted to do. “I want to be a disc jockey on the radio, sir,” I said. “You want what?” he replied. “I want to be a disc jockey on the radio. I already volunteer at the Newham General hospital radio station. And that was how Mike Read started. Lots of people who are on the radio started that way, sir.”

Slightly bemused, he said “Wouldn’t you be better off trying something a little more … realistic?” I told him I’d pretty well thought it all out and I knew how I could go about it. At the time I was devouring books on radio and even reading Billboard to try and find out more about the business I wanted to be in. “WKRP in Cincinatti” didn’t screen in England but if it did I would have been video-ing it every week and playing it back frame by frame.

“Look, you seem like quite a bright young lad,” said Mr Farquhar. “Take these pamphlets away with you and have a look at them. They’re for a Management Trainee Scheme at London Transport and it obviously won’t suit everyone here but you could do a lot worse.” I said “thank you” and walked out and that was the extent of my vocational guidance at school.

Two years later I was in New Zealand, broadcasting several times a week from the Kelburn studios of Radio Active. Three years after that I was working for ZMFM on Victoria Street, pulling the midnight till dawn shift five nights a week. I was a professional DJ on the radio, just as I said I would be. But after that, radio and I parted company (commercial radio, repetitive promotions and mindless playlists will do that to you) and I was spending more of my time hanging out with actors, writers and directors rather than alone in a room with a pile of records.

I’ve always wanted to go back to it, and I’ve always believed that it was the one thing I could safely say I was really good at. But I wanted to do it on my terms, for fun. I got the chance tonight thanks to VBC who have offered a weekly Monday night slot to the Wellingtonista and my name popped up on the roster. If you were listening, I apologise for my only passing acquaintance with the English language (there was a lot going on) but I hope you enjoyed the music.

My attempt at recording the stream failed, which is a blessing in disguise, but I have added the playlist here so you know what you missed.

I’m hooked on radio again. I want to build a studio here in the home office and make radio for people and thanks to the Internet and podcasts (and inspired by the likes of Jesse Thorn at The Sound of Young America) it may actually be possible. In the meantime, I’ll crop up on the Wellingtonista show every now and then, slowly getting used to the slightly eccentric VBC technology, getting my fix.

Playlist after the jump.

Continue reading ‘A Wireless Love Affair’