The G20 circus is coming to London this week. Because I work in London Bridge, I should have a pretty good view of the beginning of one of the marches on Wednesday. Some of the banks and businesses around here seem to have gotten a bit hysterical about what may or may not happen.
Wednesday has been called Financial Fools Day and four marches will depart from different train stations to rendezvous at Bank. London Bridge gets the Money Crimes march which will be led by a silver Horseman of the Apocalypse. Brilliantly, you can also apparently join the horse in eating the bankers in some kind of metaphorical zombie gorefest.
In order to prevent the metaphorical from becoming real, bankers have hilariously been told to wear chinos on the day to fool the crowd into thinking they are just regular joes. I think they could have been a bit more imaginative – why not hold a prize for the best disguise in your office? You could have your staff dress as deliverymen, contractors or trades people or even tourists. Just wear unflattering shorts and carry a big camera and et voila, you can sneak past all those dirty fucking hippies.
Seriously though, those in power should probably welcome these protests. They help people feel like they have ‘done something’ about their anger and helps to dissipate it. Lots of people like to claim that showing up at the Iraq war march was a brave act of rebellion, but the hundreds of thousands of people who did march on the day in 2003 rarely followed it up with any concrete action. They got to have their Big Day Out and then pretty much went back to their lives.
I also feel that the concentration on the actions of the banks is rather misplacing the anger that people should be feeling. A banker’s job is to make money for themselves and their shareholders. The fact that they were coming up with increasingly bizarre and byzantine methods to achieve this should not be shocking to anybody. Anybody who could survive in that testosterone fuelled nightmare is pretty much inured to ethical issues regarding whether or not they should be doing what they were doing. That they made so much money for so long was all the justification that they needed.
Which is why we are supposed to have watchdogs and regulators. That’s why I think, as disgusted as I am with the actions of muchof the banking sector, the anger I feel is really towards the politicians and especially to the New Labour government. This appears to be the logical extension of a Labour government which sought to soften but essentially leave unchanged the rampant capitalism of Thatcher’s Britain. It is the government that was asleep at the wheel, allowing these banks and financial institutions a free hand to metasize into bloated, blubbery institutions. It was the government and specifically New Labour who, afraid of being tarnished with a lefty brush, took a hands off approach to regulation. And it was the government who were happy to allow wage stagnation and income inequality to grow to sickening levels because of a belief in the essential goodness of the free market.
I am no socialist – I believe that capitalism is an important drive for personal liberty. But the mistake seems to have been an assumption that the free market is a benign institution instead of one which is morally neutral. It requires that governments take an active role in curbing its worst excesses and channelling its benefits so as broad a number of people as possibly can derive some benefit.
Gordon Brown increasingly seems like a man who lucked out while Chancellor – that he was able to parlay a couple of years of decent growth into a widely held belief that he was some kind of economics genius. Instead, he appears to have sacrificed long term stability and social cohesion for the thrill of short term gains and lionisation from the business and financial sectors, groups who were once openly hostile to Labour.
That’s why I can’t get too excited about the whole Blame the Bankers brigade. I think they are going after the wrong target and it lets the very mistakes and sins of the politicians go relatively unremarked.
Monday, 30 March 2009
Friday, 27 March 2009
1 in 6 Therapists are stupid or bigoted
Normally I skip the Metro in the mornings. The paper is about as bland and boring as you can get – like the evening free sheets, it is just about the laziest way of digesting news imaginable.
But the headline on the paper yesterday morning was enough not only to shock me, but to put me in a bad mood for the rest of the day. According to research published in a medical journal this week, 16% of all counsellors have attempted to cure their patients of homosexuality.
That statistic is so incomprehensible that I need to quote it again just to let it sink in…
16% of counsellors actually admitted to trying to cure their patients of homosexuality.
That means that 1 out of every six counsellors believe that homosexuality is something that can be changed with enough therapy. I am sure they were only thinkinfg of their clients best interests and not the thousands of pounds they could gouge out of these helpless people by stretching out that cure over an insane time period.
And just how exactly do they intend to ‘cure’ homosexuality. The only known cures come from the fringe end of the Christian fundamentalist right who seem to advocate strict gender roles and lots and lots of praying. So women get to wear make-up and skirts (though not too much because you don’t want to be a slut) and men get to be more manly. Add some prayers and POOF! you’re no longer one a poof. It reminds me of the underwear gnomes from South Park and their plan for world domination.
According to the study, many of these therapists have used aversion therapy to try and rid people of their evil and perverse urges. Aversion therapy is a nice, clinical term for zapping your private parts with electric shocks while showing you pictures of sexy men. The hope is that you will eventually associate pain with sexy men. This was all the rage about fifty years ago but since the medical and psychiatric professions are supposed to have moved on a little from the time that they gave electric shock therapy to women who didn’t want to be slaves to the cooker, it is a little surprising to see it still being used.
What these therapists are actually doing is ensuring that years down the line, these men and women who are led to believe that their homosexuality can be cured will be forced into relationships which will make them deeply unhappy and unfulfilled. Their unhappiness and depression will radiate outwards, encompassing their partners, families and friends. It could lead to domestic violence, higher rates of STIs, self harm and suicide. This is something that I can speak with some confidence on since I hear it all the time from people ringing the switchboard. Their stories, as individually tragic as they are, all carry the same basic components of denial, repression and misery.
The reasons that therapists have offered to help ‘convert’ LGB people are religion, family and social pressures and the person’s unhappiness. There seems to be little understanding that what makes the person unhappy isn’t their orientation but precisely the religious, family and social prejudices which enforces a blinkered and prejudiced view. Instead of helping a person to build their confidence and self worth with a view to being able to successfully deal with this prejudice, they push spurious and thoroughly discredited treatments. The therapists who do this because of their own religious or moral beliefs about the ‘perversity’ of homosexuality should be especially ashamed.
What worries me most is that if 17% of therapists will actually admit this, then it probably happens on a much wider scale then that. There will be those who will not wish to admit to it because of a sense that it is not ‘politically correct’. I think those who have admitted to peddling what amounts to witch doctor mumbo jumbo should be named so that people can be protected against their predatory acts.
It’s sometimes good to be reminded why we need to have services like switchboard around, despite the vast strides that we have made as a community. There will always be those who continue to be marginalised and victimised because they love a person of the same sex.
But the headline on the paper yesterday morning was enough not only to shock me, but to put me in a bad mood for the rest of the day. According to research published in a medical journal this week, 16% of all counsellors have attempted to cure their patients of homosexuality.
That statistic is so incomprehensible that I need to quote it again just to let it sink in…
16% of counsellors actually admitted to trying to cure their patients of homosexuality.
That means that 1 out of every six counsellors believe that homosexuality is something that can be changed with enough therapy. I am sure they were only thinkinfg of their clients best interests and not the thousands of pounds they could gouge out of these helpless people by stretching out that cure over an insane time period.
And just how exactly do they intend to ‘cure’ homosexuality. The only known cures come from the fringe end of the Christian fundamentalist right who seem to advocate strict gender roles and lots and lots of praying. So women get to wear make-up and skirts (though not too much because you don’t want to be a slut) and men get to be more manly. Add some prayers and POOF! you’re no longer one a poof. It reminds me of the underwear gnomes from South Park and their plan for world domination.
According to the study, many of these therapists have used aversion therapy to try and rid people of their evil and perverse urges. Aversion therapy is a nice, clinical term for zapping your private parts with electric shocks while showing you pictures of sexy men. The hope is that you will eventually associate pain with sexy men. This was all the rage about fifty years ago but since the medical and psychiatric professions are supposed to have moved on a little from the time that they gave electric shock therapy to women who didn’t want to be slaves to the cooker, it is a little surprising to see it still being used.
What these therapists are actually doing is ensuring that years down the line, these men and women who are led to believe that their homosexuality can be cured will be forced into relationships which will make them deeply unhappy and unfulfilled. Their unhappiness and depression will radiate outwards, encompassing their partners, families and friends. It could lead to domestic violence, higher rates of STIs, self harm and suicide. This is something that I can speak with some confidence on since I hear it all the time from people ringing the switchboard. Their stories, as individually tragic as they are, all carry the same basic components of denial, repression and misery.
The reasons that therapists have offered to help ‘convert’ LGB people are religion, family and social pressures and the person’s unhappiness. There seems to be little understanding that what makes the person unhappy isn’t their orientation but precisely the religious, family and social prejudices which enforces a blinkered and prejudiced view. Instead of helping a person to build their confidence and self worth with a view to being able to successfully deal with this prejudice, they push spurious and thoroughly discredited treatments. The therapists who do this because of their own religious or moral beliefs about the ‘perversity’ of homosexuality should be especially ashamed.
What worries me most is that if 17% of therapists will actually admit this, then it probably happens on a much wider scale then that. There will be those who will not wish to admit to it because of a sense that it is not ‘politically correct’. I think those who have admitted to peddling what amounts to witch doctor mumbo jumbo should be named so that people can be protected against their predatory acts.
It’s sometimes good to be reminded why we need to have services like switchboard around, despite the vast strides that we have made as a community. There will always be those who continue to be marginalised and victimised because they love a person of the same sex.
Friday, 20 March 2009
And The Band Played On
I often spend my time railing against journalists and journalism. After spending 4 years studying for a degree and some time working in the media after, I feel like I know enough about the whole industry to generally be completely appalled by most of what actually goes on.
My dirty secret is that I am something of a romantic and an idealist. I try to mask that behind cynicism but it leaks out in all sorts of unexpected ways. That romance and idealism is part of what drove me towards journalism – a genuine desire to do something good. But like most things in life, it is never that simple and it didn’t work out.
I tend to stereotype all journos as grasping bastards. I don’t truly believe that, but I think the economics of the media consistently discourage the type of journalism that I truly admire. Subjectivity is not necessarily a bad thing in journalism. Indeed, sometimes it is the fetishisation of objectivity which I think causes the most danger. There are many issues where in the interests of maintaining a certain ‘balance’ journalists will allow outright falsehoods to be printed on a range of issues. Writers and editors seem paralysed by having to adjudicate between genuine disputes and afraid to say when arguments are being created for specific moral or social reasons (eg abstinence-only sex education or the teaching of biology and specifically evolution in schools).
All of this is to say that sometimes a righteous subjectivity, when backed up by solid research and facts, has a way of cutting through the bullshit and producing a piece of writing which is genuinely thrilling and enlightening. Randy Shilts is My New Favourite Person in the World right now because of his book And the Band Played On which I devoured in a couple of days and promptly re-read just because of how good it is.
The book is brilliant piece of investigative journalism which takes a sweeping look at the early years of the AIDS epidemic from a dizzying array of scientific, political and social angles. The book is like a mosaic picture; Shilts lays each small tile one by one, layering on anecdotes, statistics, profiles, details from Congressional hearings, private memos and diaries and most affectingly, the tragic fears of those truly affected.
The picture which emerges left me breathless. This is a book which is over 600 pages long and yet reads as compulsively as a thriller and is as heartbreaking as a great tragedy. Shilts’ anger flows through his prose, but it is a controlled anger, focussed and relentless at picking apart the massive institutional failures as well as the occasional successes of the AIDS epidemic. The book is not just an angry rant – there moments of mordant humour throughout as well as great displays of courage and love. Most importantly, he gives humanity and dimension to those affected at all levels by the virus; to the scientists and officials who struggled desperately against federal indifference, institutional homophobia and crippling political correctness, to those families and friends who watched their loved ones die and to the thousands of men and women who were cut down, most of them in the prime of their lives.
The amount of research in this book is mind boggling. Not only does Shilts carefully lay out all the myriad of conflicting attitudes and turfs amongst the gay community (which he would be expected to know since he played some role in them), but he is equally adept at describing international scientific disputes, public health bureaucracies and political backroom dealing. There are many heroes that emerge from this story at all levels, and only a few outright villains. What makes the book ultimately so frustrating is that Shilts shows that the epidemic did not have to be as bad as it turned out to be, but that the forces working against an effective early reaction were just too strong. You understand perfectly where it all went to shit, while still being under no impression that this was an inevitable situation.
Shilts also wrote The Mayor of Castro Street, a book I have previously sung the praises of and one which provided such an incredible foundation for the very moving Milk. His last book, Conduct Unbecoming, about gay in the military will be next on my list. For a really beautiful treatment of his life, then this article is hard to beat.
My dirty secret is that I am something of a romantic and an idealist. I try to mask that behind cynicism but it leaks out in all sorts of unexpected ways. That romance and idealism is part of what drove me towards journalism – a genuine desire to do something good. But like most things in life, it is never that simple and it didn’t work out.
I tend to stereotype all journos as grasping bastards. I don’t truly believe that, but I think the economics of the media consistently discourage the type of journalism that I truly admire. Subjectivity is not necessarily a bad thing in journalism. Indeed, sometimes it is the fetishisation of objectivity which I think causes the most danger. There are many issues where in the interests of maintaining a certain ‘balance’ journalists will allow outright falsehoods to be printed on a range of issues. Writers and editors seem paralysed by having to adjudicate between genuine disputes and afraid to say when arguments are being created for specific moral or social reasons (eg abstinence-only sex education or the teaching of biology and specifically evolution in schools).
All of this is to say that sometimes a righteous subjectivity, when backed up by solid research and facts, has a way of cutting through the bullshit and producing a piece of writing which is genuinely thrilling and enlightening. Randy Shilts is My New Favourite Person in the World right now because of his book And the Band Played On which I devoured in a couple of days and promptly re-read just because of how good it is.
The book is brilliant piece of investigative journalism which takes a sweeping look at the early years of the AIDS epidemic from a dizzying array of scientific, political and social angles. The book is like a mosaic picture; Shilts lays each small tile one by one, layering on anecdotes, statistics, profiles, details from Congressional hearings, private memos and diaries and most affectingly, the tragic fears of those truly affected.
The picture which emerges left me breathless. This is a book which is over 600 pages long and yet reads as compulsively as a thriller and is as heartbreaking as a great tragedy. Shilts’ anger flows through his prose, but it is a controlled anger, focussed and relentless at picking apart the massive institutional failures as well as the occasional successes of the AIDS epidemic. The book is not just an angry rant – there moments of mordant humour throughout as well as great displays of courage and love. Most importantly, he gives humanity and dimension to those affected at all levels by the virus; to the scientists and officials who struggled desperately against federal indifference, institutional homophobia and crippling political correctness, to those families and friends who watched their loved ones die and to the thousands of men and women who were cut down, most of them in the prime of their lives.
The amount of research in this book is mind boggling. Not only does Shilts carefully lay out all the myriad of conflicting attitudes and turfs amongst the gay community (which he would be expected to know since he played some role in them), but he is equally adept at describing international scientific disputes, public health bureaucracies and political backroom dealing. There are many heroes that emerge from this story at all levels, and only a few outright villains. What makes the book ultimately so frustrating is that Shilts shows that the epidemic did not have to be as bad as it turned out to be, but that the forces working against an effective early reaction were just too strong. You understand perfectly where it all went to shit, while still being under no impression that this was an inevitable situation.
Shilts also wrote The Mayor of Castro Street, a book I have previously sung the praises of and one which provided such an incredible foundation for the very moving Milk. His last book, Conduct Unbecoming, about gay in the military will be next on my list. For a really beautiful treatment of his life, then this article is hard to beat.
Tuesday, 17 March 2009
Rant Alert! Razi the Nazi does it again
I try not to get too hung up on what the Catholic Church does anymore. I grew up within the Church and was never exposed to any of the abuses. All the priests I had seemed to be nice men and one or two were genuinely kind and decent. I don’t think I was badly affected in any way by church attendance apart from the sheer boredom of having to do it every Sunday. It never caused any kind of mental anguish for me when I realised I was gay.
But the statements by Pope Razi and Nazi since he has been appointed pontiff have become increasingly shrill and hardline. Over Christmas, we had his memorable statement that the threat of homosexuality was greater then the destruction of the rain forests (who knew we had such power?!). A couple of weeks ago, he was de-excommunicating a bunch of extreme right wingers, one of whom was an insane Holocaust denier. The Church then defended the excommunication of a mother who allowed her 9 year old daughter to undergo an abortion after being raped by her stepfather in Brazil. And now, on a tour of Africa, he has said that condoms aren’t the answer to the epidemic of HIV in the region and could make the problem worse.
To be fair to Razi, he has a point. The only way to protect yourself from catching the virus through sexual contact is abstinence. This is what the Catholic Church teaches, and in strict medical terms, they are correct. In a perfect, hermetically sealed world where nobody had a libido and perfect access to full public health information, this would be acceptable. But unfortunately for the Catholic Church, their vision of the world is nothing like the one we all live in. Their vision is one which is so much at odds with the reality of dealing with an epidemic as horrifying as AIDS, that they should be ashamed of every utterance which drips from their mothballed and incomprehensible dogma.
The problems of dealing with AIDS in Africa are enormous. The cultural barriers to proper treatment, encompassing issues around gender, sexual orientation, poverty and religious fundamentalism make the work of public healh authorities and NGOs a Sisyphean task. The Church could play a role in this by helping to moderate the extreme wing of Catholicism which has taken root in many regions and recognising that some degree of flexibility around condom use at the very least is the only moral way to approach the issue. Instead, Razi has decided to pander to the worst instincts of the Church and ignore the endemic suffering the region. His call will be taken up by priests and bishops throughout the region who continue to make false and murderous claims to prevent people from using condoms to protect themselves from infection.
The Church, as ever, has no shame.
But the statements by Pope Razi and Nazi since he has been appointed pontiff have become increasingly shrill and hardline. Over Christmas, we had his memorable statement that the threat of homosexuality was greater then the destruction of the rain forests (who knew we had such power?!). A couple of weeks ago, he was de-excommunicating a bunch of extreme right wingers, one of whom was an insane Holocaust denier. The Church then defended the excommunication of a mother who allowed her 9 year old daughter to undergo an abortion after being raped by her stepfather in Brazil. And now, on a tour of Africa, he has said that condoms aren’t the answer to the epidemic of HIV in the region and could make the problem worse.
To be fair to Razi, he has a point. The only way to protect yourself from catching the virus through sexual contact is abstinence. This is what the Catholic Church teaches, and in strict medical terms, they are correct. In a perfect, hermetically sealed world where nobody had a libido and perfect access to full public health information, this would be acceptable. But unfortunately for the Catholic Church, their vision of the world is nothing like the one we all live in. Their vision is one which is so much at odds with the reality of dealing with an epidemic as horrifying as AIDS, that they should be ashamed of every utterance which drips from their mothballed and incomprehensible dogma.
The problems of dealing with AIDS in Africa are enormous. The cultural barriers to proper treatment, encompassing issues around gender, sexual orientation, poverty and religious fundamentalism make the work of public healh authorities and NGOs a Sisyphean task. The Church could play a role in this by helping to moderate the extreme wing of Catholicism which has taken root in many regions and recognising that some degree of flexibility around condom use at the very least is the only moral way to approach the issue. Instead, Razi has decided to pander to the worst instincts of the Church and ignore the endemic suffering the region. His call will be taken up by priests and bishops throughout the region who continue to make false and murderous claims to prevent people from using condoms to protect themselves from infection.
The Church, as ever, has no shame.
Tuesday, 10 March 2009
Watching Watchmen
I liked it better than I thought I would…
OK if that sounds like I am damning it with faint praise, then I guess I am. I was briefly excited by Watchmen, but my fears for the film grew after I read the comic. I could just feel the compromises which might have to be made in the transfer to the big screen and I thought that’s what ultimately would take away some of the idiosyncrasy that made the comic so good. Lastly, as I mentioned when I wrote about the comic, what was groundbreaking over twenty years ago does not necessarily carry the same cache now.
With all those caveats included, there is a lot to admire in this film. I would imagine that Snyder largely got the film he wanted – length issues aside (which I will discuss later), this is very much his vision of the comic and it plays precisely to his strengths and weaknesses as a director. His strengths are an ability to fully visualise a concept, to make it fast moving and exciting without seeming wearying. As much as I hated 300, I can’t deny that there is immense technical skill there. I loved his re-imagining of Dawn of the Dead. And though Watchmen is about 2 hours 45 minutes long, I was never bored. I thought the structure of having to condense 12 chapters into one piece would lead to major pacing issues, but I was wrong. It moves really well for the most part. It’s also startlingly beautiful at times, and the ‘speed ramping’ technique didn’t bother me half as much as I expected.
I also think that Snyder is good with actors – in films as big as his, he seems to be good at picking unusual performers who can give the goods in demanding technical situations. The cast of Watchmen is a hodge-podge of B-listers and almost complete unknowns, yet each of them (aside from one major role) deliver. Rorschach is getting the majority of the praise and deservedly so – Jackie Earle Healey is brilliantly bleak and uncompromising in the role and Patrick Wilson is understated and charming. I think though I should give a special mention to Matthew Goode. Goode plays Veidt and this seems to be the role which has been most radically re-thought in comparison to the comic book. I actually really like how Snyder and his writers have shaped the character and I think Goode does an excellent job.
OK, so that’s what I liked about Watchmen – it was pretty uncompromising, stylish, nicely paced and well acted. But there are also major problems with the film which ultimately derail it and prevent it from becoming the dark masterpiece that so many fans were hoping for.
First, as good as I think Snyder can be with actors (Dawn of the Dead is filled with great supporting turns anchored by a fine, flinty performance from Sarah Polley), he really sells the women of Watchmen short. Laurie is turned into a bit of a whiney cocktease. I had a problem with her in the comic where she never had the stature of the other characters. Moore didn’t seem very interested in exploring what it would be like for Laurie to be the only female in the group outside of whatever sexual tension she generated. It doesn’t help matters that Malin Ackerman is one of the weaker actors in the ensemble.
The biggest hurdle for me though, is despite the good to great work done by a lot of very talented people, the whole thing just didn’t come together emotionally at the end. I have read how some viewers were devastated by the ending of the film, and both times I didn’t get it. I wasn’t invested enough emotionally in these characters, in their respective redemptions or damnations to be moved. The Dark Knight, for all its sprawl, worked emotionally – you felt the devastation of the death of Rachel for both Harvey and Bruce and it drove the final act of the film. There is no corresponding emotional pitch in Watchmen and it suffers in the end from having a lot of build up without no real release.
In the comic, the destruction of New York has real weight. It is a horrifying moment and artist Dave Gibbon is allowed several pages of pure artwork to depict the savagery that results from Veidt’s plan. Snyder flubs this moment completely – for a film which is so intensely and gruesomely violent at times, the massacre of millions is treated with an almost off-hand casualness. This makes the aguish felt by the characters in the film less immediate and desperate than in the comic and so the moral compromise of Veidt, Laurie, Dan, Adrian and Dr Manhattan doesn’t seem that big a deal.
The film also seems to be a bit confusing for newcomers, both as a result of trying to condense so much back-story into the running time but also through choices made by the filmmakers. I went to see this with one of my best friends, a pretty clued in guy, and he was confused about several points in the film. This isn’t a case of just needing a second viewing, but in essential plot points that needed to be communicated. In addition, the film seems to muddy-up the precise nature of the costumed heroes. I thought it was fairly clear from the book that only Dr Manhatten and perhaps Ozmandiyus had abilities which would be considered ‘special’ – everybody else had a combination of technology, intelligence and training to do their job. But Snyder seems to imply in the fight scenes and especially with Rorschach that the Watchmen have genuine outlandish abilities.
Finally, the make-up is the one technical area where the film badly slips up. Richard Nixon looks like he is auditioning for a bad amateur production of Cyrano de Bergerac while Carla Guigino’s performance is ruined by some terrible old age make-up (take a look at the great work done on Kate Winslet in The Reader to get an idea of how it should be done).
There was a fair bit of chatter on the internet how Watchmen could be a gamechanger of a blockbuster. I don’t think so – The Dark Knight seems to have pipped it there and frankly Watchmen is by no means the best comic book film I have seen (Batman Returns, Spiderman 2, The Dark Knight and perhaps Hellboy 2 are my current favourites). But it does push the envelope in interesting ways and I think Snyder and his collaborators deserve praise for the care and skill they did show.
OK if that sounds like I am damning it with faint praise, then I guess I am. I was briefly excited by Watchmen, but my fears for the film grew after I read the comic. I could just feel the compromises which might have to be made in the transfer to the big screen and I thought that’s what ultimately would take away some of the idiosyncrasy that made the comic so good. Lastly, as I mentioned when I wrote about the comic, what was groundbreaking over twenty years ago does not necessarily carry the same cache now.
With all those caveats included, there is a lot to admire in this film. I would imagine that Snyder largely got the film he wanted – length issues aside (which I will discuss later), this is very much his vision of the comic and it plays precisely to his strengths and weaknesses as a director. His strengths are an ability to fully visualise a concept, to make it fast moving and exciting without seeming wearying. As much as I hated 300, I can’t deny that there is immense technical skill there. I loved his re-imagining of Dawn of the Dead. And though Watchmen is about 2 hours 45 minutes long, I was never bored. I thought the structure of having to condense 12 chapters into one piece would lead to major pacing issues, but I was wrong. It moves really well for the most part. It’s also startlingly beautiful at times, and the ‘speed ramping’ technique didn’t bother me half as much as I expected.
I also think that Snyder is good with actors – in films as big as his, he seems to be good at picking unusual performers who can give the goods in demanding technical situations. The cast of Watchmen is a hodge-podge of B-listers and almost complete unknowns, yet each of them (aside from one major role) deliver. Rorschach is getting the majority of the praise and deservedly so – Jackie Earle Healey is brilliantly bleak and uncompromising in the role and Patrick Wilson is understated and charming. I think though I should give a special mention to Matthew Goode. Goode plays Veidt and this seems to be the role which has been most radically re-thought in comparison to the comic book. I actually really like how Snyder and his writers have shaped the character and I think Goode does an excellent job.
OK, so that’s what I liked about Watchmen – it was pretty uncompromising, stylish, nicely paced and well acted. But there are also major problems with the film which ultimately derail it and prevent it from becoming the dark masterpiece that so many fans were hoping for.
First, as good as I think Snyder can be with actors (Dawn of the Dead is filled with great supporting turns anchored by a fine, flinty performance from Sarah Polley), he really sells the women of Watchmen short. Laurie is turned into a bit of a whiney cocktease. I had a problem with her in the comic where she never had the stature of the other characters. Moore didn’t seem very interested in exploring what it would be like for Laurie to be the only female in the group outside of whatever sexual tension she generated. It doesn’t help matters that Malin Ackerman is one of the weaker actors in the ensemble.
The biggest hurdle for me though, is despite the good to great work done by a lot of very talented people, the whole thing just didn’t come together emotionally at the end. I have read how some viewers were devastated by the ending of the film, and both times I didn’t get it. I wasn’t invested enough emotionally in these characters, in their respective redemptions or damnations to be moved. The Dark Knight, for all its sprawl, worked emotionally – you felt the devastation of the death of Rachel for both Harvey and Bruce and it drove the final act of the film. There is no corresponding emotional pitch in Watchmen and it suffers in the end from having a lot of build up without no real release.
In the comic, the destruction of New York has real weight. It is a horrifying moment and artist Dave Gibbon is allowed several pages of pure artwork to depict the savagery that results from Veidt’s plan. Snyder flubs this moment completely – for a film which is so intensely and gruesomely violent at times, the massacre of millions is treated with an almost off-hand casualness. This makes the aguish felt by the characters in the film less immediate and desperate than in the comic and so the moral compromise of Veidt, Laurie, Dan, Adrian and Dr Manhattan doesn’t seem that big a deal.
The film also seems to be a bit confusing for newcomers, both as a result of trying to condense so much back-story into the running time but also through choices made by the filmmakers. I went to see this with one of my best friends, a pretty clued in guy, and he was confused about several points in the film. This isn’t a case of just needing a second viewing, but in essential plot points that needed to be communicated. In addition, the film seems to muddy-up the precise nature of the costumed heroes. I thought it was fairly clear from the book that only Dr Manhatten and perhaps Ozmandiyus had abilities which would be considered ‘special’ – everybody else had a combination of technology, intelligence and training to do their job. But Snyder seems to imply in the fight scenes and especially with Rorschach that the Watchmen have genuine outlandish abilities.
Finally, the make-up is the one technical area where the film badly slips up. Richard Nixon looks like he is auditioning for a bad amateur production of Cyrano de Bergerac while Carla Guigino’s performance is ruined by some terrible old age make-up (take a look at the great work done on Kate Winslet in The Reader to get an idea of how it should be done).
There was a fair bit of chatter on the internet how Watchmen could be a gamechanger of a blockbuster. I don’t think so – The Dark Knight seems to have pipped it there and frankly Watchmen is by no means the best comic book film I have seen (Batman Returns, Spiderman 2, The Dark Knight and perhaps Hellboy 2 are my current favourites). But it does push the envelope in interesting ways and I think Snyder and his collaborators deserve praise for the care and skill they did show.
Sunday, 8 March 2009
Bullshit, Bullshit, Bullshit
Gordon Brown is a Grade A, giant honking dickhead. Seriously, he is an ass face of epic proportions.
According to BBC News, Brown was meeting with gay rights groups in Downing Street and spoke out against the homophobia of Proposition 8 in California. That was the ballot initiative that stripped gay couples of full marriage rights.
Except, here’s the thing. Gay Californians already have access to domestic partnership benefits which are largely on par with the civil partnerships which the Labour Government instituted in 2005. If what the fuckwads who voted for Prop 8 were homophobic, then Brown’s own civil partnerships law is homophobic because it entrenched in law the same separation. It refused to acknowledge that gay relationships were on par with straight ones.
Here is what our dear leader was quoted as saying;
Yes, it can respond by enshrining the idea that gay people are not eligible for full marriage rights. And that he had the gall to say this in front of gay campaigners who would no doubt know far more about the whole situation than him is profoundly stupid.
Seriously, this is one of those moments where I have just had enough of Brown. I will no doubt kick myself in the near future for saying this, but can he just fuck off somewhere far away?
According to BBC News, Brown was meeting with gay rights groups in Downing Street and spoke out against the homophobia of Proposition 8 in California. That was the ballot initiative that stripped gay couples of full marriage rights.
Except, here’s the thing. Gay Californians already have access to domestic partnership benefits which are largely on par with the civil partnerships which the Labour Government instituted in 2005. If what the fuckwads who voted for Prop 8 were homophobic, then Brown’s own civil partnerships law is homophobic because it entrenched in law the same separation. It refused to acknowledge that gay relationships were on par with straight ones.
Here is what our dear leader was quoted as saying;
Mr Brown said "this attempt to undo good that has been done is unacceptable".
He added: "This shows why we have always got to be vigilant, always got to fight homophobic behaviour and any form of discrimination."
He also praised equality campaigners in the UK for "changing opinion" about same-sex unions. "You have shown how the legislative process, by your pressure, can respond," he said.
Yes, it can respond by enshrining the idea that gay people are not eligible for full marriage rights. And that he had the gall to say this in front of gay campaigners who would no doubt know far more about the whole situation than him is profoundly stupid.
Seriously, this is one of those moments where I have just had enough of Brown. I will no doubt kick myself in the near future for saying this, but can he just fuck off somewhere far away?
Wednesday, 4 March 2009
Entertaining Mr Sloane
Joe Orton is one of those playwrights that I have always ‘known’ about but not actually read any of his work. A couple of months ago I read the brilliant biography Prick Up Your Ears after hearing the movie repeatedly eulogised by some of my best friends. I loved the book – again, it’s one of those biographies which ably highlights the life of the central figure and those surrounding him, but also gives you a tangible sense of the world they lived in and how Orton was shaped, reflected and contributed to its change.
And yet, I haven’t sought out any of his plays to read, mostly because I find reading plays a frustrating experience. In a similar way to reading screenplays, I just find it difficult to imagine the full impact of something. I can admire the language, the structure and characters but still rarely become fully engaged. This is especially true for comedies where so much relies on performance and timing.
That’s why I felt lucky enough to be able to see Entertaining Mr Sloane at the Trafalgar Studios 2 weeks ago. One of only three full length stage plays that Orton wrote before his brutal murder, I always got the impression that Sloane was the slight red-headed stepchild of Loot and What the Butler Saw, and if that is the case, then I can’t wait to see the other two. I loved Sloane – it was one of the funniest nights out in the theatre I have had in ages.
Much of this is due to two performances – Imelda Staunton as Kath and Simon Paisley Day as her brother Ed, who battle for the body of Sloane (Matthew Horne). Both of these performers are brilliantly at maintaining an almost frenzied pitch of sexual excitement and discomfort that never bubbles over into being shrill. I thought Staunton was playing a bit too broad in the opening scenes, but her seduction scene with Horne was superb. Meanwhile, Day is hysterical playing a man so tightly wound that he threatens to spring out at any moment.
The battle between these characters and Sloane turns surprisingly tough in the second act – I was genuinely surprised by the level of nihilism and misogyny in the play. I don’t mean to sound like a prude; there was nothing here that particularly shocked me. But I have a long experience of disappointment with supposedly extreme and shocking cultural works from the sixties which look oddly toothless now. Sloane still packs a punch and this production gives full vent to that.
The one element which didn’t really work was Matthew Horne as Sloane. He was good enough in the opening scenes but as the play continued, he got increasingly out of his depth. Firstly, the blonde wig he wears was a mistake, the only lapse in an otherwise exemplary designed and directed show. But Horne never exuded the dangerous, ambivalent sexuality that the role was screaming for. He is a nice looking bloke without a shred of sensuality and thus makes it difficult to believe him as the catalyst for Kath and Ed’s extreme reactions. This is a huge shame, because I think with a better actor in the role, this trio would have been hard to beat. As it is, the production is very good, but it has a hole at the centre that prevents it from being truly memorable.
And yet, I haven’t sought out any of his plays to read, mostly because I find reading plays a frustrating experience. In a similar way to reading screenplays, I just find it difficult to imagine the full impact of something. I can admire the language, the structure and characters but still rarely become fully engaged. This is especially true for comedies where so much relies on performance and timing.
That’s why I felt lucky enough to be able to see Entertaining Mr Sloane at the Trafalgar Studios 2 weeks ago. One of only three full length stage plays that Orton wrote before his brutal murder, I always got the impression that Sloane was the slight red-headed stepchild of Loot and What the Butler Saw, and if that is the case, then I can’t wait to see the other two. I loved Sloane – it was one of the funniest nights out in the theatre I have had in ages.
Much of this is due to two performances – Imelda Staunton as Kath and Simon Paisley Day as her brother Ed, who battle for the body of Sloane (Matthew Horne). Both of these performers are brilliantly at maintaining an almost frenzied pitch of sexual excitement and discomfort that never bubbles over into being shrill. I thought Staunton was playing a bit too broad in the opening scenes, but her seduction scene with Horne was superb. Meanwhile, Day is hysterical playing a man so tightly wound that he threatens to spring out at any moment.
The battle between these characters and Sloane turns surprisingly tough in the second act – I was genuinely surprised by the level of nihilism and misogyny in the play. I don’t mean to sound like a prude; there was nothing here that particularly shocked me. But I have a long experience of disappointment with supposedly extreme and shocking cultural works from the sixties which look oddly toothless now. Sloane still packs a punch and this production gives full vent to that.
The one element which didn’t really work was Matthew Horne as Sloane. He was good enough in the opening scenes but as the play continued, he got increasingly out of his depth. Firstly, the blonde wig he wears was a mistake, the only lapse in an otherwise exemplary designed and directed show. But Horne never exuded the dangerous, ambivalent sexuality that the role was screaming for. He is a nice looking bloke without a shred of sensuality and thus makes it difficult to believe him as the catalyst for Kath and Ed’s extreme reactions. This is a huge shame, because I think with a better actor in the role, this trio would have been hard to beat. As it is, the production is very good, but it has a hole at the centre that prevents it from being truly memorable.
Sunday, 1 March 2009
Revolutionary Road
I finally got to see The Great Kate in Revolutionary Road, the film that most critics believe she should have been nominated for. Good a she is in The Reader, the role doesn’t really allow her to dig into the character of Hanna. You can’t say the same about the role of April Wheeler - this film lives or dies on the basis of Kate and Leo’s performances, and the truth is the film more than lives. Their work is amazing - soulful, passionate and complex. They elevate the film above its rather pedestrian script and somewhat unimaginative direction. It helps that they are backed by strong supporting cast who manage to add a great deal of nuance that isn’t really suggested by the screenplay.
This is one of those situations where I wonder what it would be like for people to see who haven’t read the book. As I said a couple of months ago, this is bruising material - the Wheelers are the horror version of a golden couple turned rotten, casually destroying one another in a series of brutal fights and actions which ultimately destroys them both.
The film is very faithful to the narrative and spirit of the book. It in no way sugar coats the actions of either of the characters - they act like real shits, but you do understand where each is coming from and there is a tragedy to their situation. I was slightly concerned that the film may come off as melodramatic and forced, but I should have realised that Kate and Leo have honed their craft to such a diamond-sharp precision that they manage to sidestep all the pitfalls.
I really admire Leo for taking this role. Frank is ultimately a weak, arrogant man, who has no real insight into April and Leo doesn’t shy away from playing that ugliness. He is excellent in the role and I think unfairly overlooked in the awards season - I think this is one of his strongest adult roles yet. Michael Shannon is spectacular in two scenes as ‘the crazy guy who speaks the truth’ breathing life into what is essentially a clichéd cipher.
But it is Winslet who ultimately owns this film. April can appear an inscrutable character but I don’t understand who some reviewers seem mystified by her motivations at different point in the movie. She has extreme reactions, but it always seemed fairly clear where they cane from. Winslet is so amazingly adept at showing fleeting, unspoken emotions that she comes closest to portraying the awesome psychological depth of the original novel. April’s illusions about her own and Frank’s lives are shattered by the end of the story and Winslet is devastating in the film’s final scenes.
The film is beautifully mounted and shot and Mendes once again shows that, while he isn’t the most visually inventive of directors, he has an amazing ability to elicit stunning work from actors, The main problem is the script, which is workmanlike. It would be enormously difficult to translate Yates’ acute observations, but the screenplay never really digs as deep as it should, It is the supporting characters who suffer the most. I can’t really blame their desire to concentrate on the Wheelers but even elements of their past which seem essential (such as April’s relationship with her parents) have been excised.
Definitely not the best choice for a date movie, but it is a good, sometimes brilliant adaptation.
This is one of those situations where I wonder what it would be like for people to see who haven’t read the book. As I said a couple of months ago, this is bruising material - the Wheelers are the horror version of a golden couple turned rotten, casually destroying one another in a series of brutal fights and actions which ultimately destroys them both.
The film is very faithful to the narrative and spirit of the book. It in no way sugar coats the actions of either of the characters - they act like real shits, but you do understand where each is coming from and there is a tragedy to their situation. I was slightly concerned that the film may come off as melodramatic and forced, but I should have realised that Kate and Leo have honed their craft to such a diamond-sharp precision that they manage to sidestep all the pitfalls.
I really admire Leo for taking this role. Frank is ultimately a weak, arrogant man, who has no real insight into April and Leo doesn’t shy away from playing that ugliness. He is excellent in the role and I think unfairly overlooked in the awards season - I think this is one of his strongest adult roles yet. Michael Shannon is spectacular in two scenes as ‘the crazy guy who speaks the truth’ breathing life into what is essentially a clichéd cipher.
But it is Winslet who ultimately owns this film. April can appear an inscrutable character but I don’t understand who some reviewers seem mystified by her motivations at different point in the movie. She has extreme reactions, but it always seemed fairly clear where they cane from. Winslet is so amazingly adept at showing fleeting, unspoken emotions that she comes closest to portraying the awesome psychological depth of the original novel. April’s illusions about her own and Frank’s lives are shattered by the end of the story and Winslet is devastating in the film’s final scenes.
The film is beautifully mounted and shot and Mendes once again shows that, while he isn’t the most visually inventive of directors, he has an amazing ability to elicit stunning work from actors, The main problem is the script, which is workmanlike. It would be enormously difficult to translate Yates’ acute observations, but the screenplay never really digs as deep as it should, It is the supporting characters who suffer the most. I can’t really blame their desire to concentrate on the Wheelers but even elements of their past which seem essential (such as April’s relationship with her parents) have been excised.
Definitely not the best choice for a date movie, but it is a good, sometimes brilliant adaptation.
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