Month: January 2013

Some films I shouldn’t like

~ beetleypete ~ 41 Comments

There are certain films that a serious film fan just should not admit to liking. They should revile them, pour criticism upon them, and expose their flaws and weaknesses, all the time secretly enjoying them, in private. The following films all fall into this category, for some reason or another. Trouble is, I really like them all, and I will try to explain why.

Pretty in Pink. A 1986 American romantic drama, with High School kids fretting over relationships and Prom dances. Come on, me? It should just go into the bin, surely? But no, you would miss out on some great performances, good characterisations, and some young actors really stepping up, to lift his film out of its brat-pack roots. You even get Harry Dean Stanton, as the pouting Molly Ringwald’s dad. This hackneyed tale of poor girl from the wrong side of the tracks, falling for rich boy she can’t have is just that. But it’s better than that, so much better, and the reason is simplicity itself. Because they all take it so seriously, playing their parts as if they are in a Stephen Soderbergh Art House film, many years later. (And some were). We get early flashes of brilliance from James Spader, as the slimy friend of the object of Molly’s Ringwald’s desire, and a quiet, sleepy turn from Andrew McCarthy, as the boy himself. What seals the deal for me, is the fantastic performance by Jon Cryer, as the socially inept Duckie, who has always loved the girl, and is prepared to sacrifice everything for her happiness. His mimed performance of  ‘Try a little tenderness’, across the floor of a record shop, is one of my favourite moments in cinema. Then there is the title song, performed by the Psychedelic Furs, but only over the closing credits, at least on my version. Pop magic. Oh yes, there is a happy ending too, sorry about that. Here is Duckie, miming to the Otis Redding version of that song I mentioned. I could watch this every day.

Caligula. This 1979 epic was directed by Tinto Brass, an Italian film maker well-known for his cheap titillation films, on the borders of soft porn. It was funded by Bob Guccione, head of the Penthouse magazine and blue film empire, and had to be cut to ninety minutes for cinema showing, because of its nudity, and pornographic content. It is now available uncut, in a full version, running just under three hours. What’s to like then? Well, pretty much everything, and for one good reason, the cast. As they say in poker, read ’em and weep. Peter O’Toole, John Geilgud, Helen Mirren, a clutch of Italy’s finest, and Malcolm McDowell, playing the lead role of Caligula, in a manner so crazy, it was a wonder he wasn’t banged up in a nuthouse as soon as filming ceased. Even a hammy script, dubbed Italian hunks, and completely shameless sex and full-frontal nudity cannot detract from the quality of the performances. There are mad set pieces too.  A huge machine that cuts off the heads of prisoners buried up to their necks in the sand. A scene in an Imperial brothel, where the wives of senators are forced to take on all comers, to raise money is filmed on a vast set, with a huge cast of fornicating extras, indulging in all kinds of unspeakable perversity. There is rape, murder, buggery, torture, execution, incest, and even abortion by disemboweling. No degradation is too low to sink to. But this was Rome, at the time of its most depraved emperor; that was pretty much what it was like. I feel I should apologise in advance, but I just can’t resist it. Make sure you get the uncut version though, and don’t watch it with your Mum.

The Blair Witch Project. In 1999, this indie film, made on a shoestring budget, took the fringe festivals by storm in America. Audiences screamed, or walked out of the cinemas, either from fear, or disgust at how bad it was. It made the evening news in the UK, and the hype was full-on. The best promoted film with no budget for promotion, ever. I finally got round to seeing it, expecting the worst. Hand-held camera, unknown small cast, all set in a few acres of woodland. How can it possibly be any good? It wasn’t good, it was fantastic. Everything about it screamed talent, and innovation. The three lead actors gradual downward spiral into distrust, and downright hatred of each other, is superbly portrayed. The tension built up by the finding of a few twigs or stones, arranged in a pattern is hard to imagine, until you see it. Close up camera angles, and one of the cast always being out of shot filming the others, it all just works. The night photography, and eerie sounds heard from the black expanse outside the tent can make the hair stand up on your arms. And the last scene, with little action except one person standing motionless in a dark room, lit by the camera, is one of the most chilling moments I have ever witnessed in a film. Believe the hype. This is that last scene. Do you see what I mean?

Witchfinder General.  There have been remarkably few films about the English Civil War. This 17th Century conflict ravaged most of England, and set families against each other, resulting in the execution of the King, and a short-lived dictatorship by Cromwell. As someone very interested in this subject, I tend to collect, or at least watch, all and any films made about it, or set during those years; and this is one of them. Made in 1968, it was sold to the public as a ‘horror’ film, with scenes of torture, executions, and some sexual content. By today’s standards, it is remarkably tame, showing less than we might expect to see on a modern TV drama, after the viewing watershed. It stars Vincent Price as Matthew Hopkins, who was actually a real person, and self-styled ‘Witchfinder’ during those times. Using this time period, and the Civil War setting, is merely an excuse for a film about nasty people, preying on the fears and insecurities of an ignorant population already in shock, as a result of this devastating war. Hopkins, and his leering assistant, obtain money (and some sexual gratification) by examining women to see if they are witches They usually are found to be so, and executed accordingly. Hopkins is then paid by the local dignitaries, in gratitude for his ‘work’, before moving on to the next town. He uses the spurious authority of ‘Parliament’ as his cover, although he was never officially appointed to that role. The meek villagers he encounters are too afraid to question him, and he continues unchallenged, until he makes the mistake of interfering with the family of a young Roundhead cavalryman, a member of Oliver Cromwell’s regiment. This proves his undoing in the film, though of course, this was not the case in real life. This film enjoys cult status with many, and does have some effective moments, alongside many questionable acting performances. I like it simply for the Civil War connection, you may well enjoy it for a number of other reasons. Who knows? Here is the theatrical trailer.

Excalibur. The legend of King Arthur, and the Knights of the Round Table, has been the subject of numerous films, almost all of them forgettable. From the cringe-worthy musical ‘Camelot’, to the lampooning farce of ‘Monty Python and the Holy Grail’, there have been many others purporting to bring the truth behind this legend onto the screen. In 1981, the film maker John Boorman threw his hat into the ring, and brought us this epic version. Taking liberties with time and place, and moving the events from their supposed time in the 6th Century forward a few hundred years to a more recognisable medieval setting, he assembled a magnificent cast, and a suitable budget. At the time, I remember coming out of the cinema in London, thinking that I may have just seen a future masterpiece. The crashing soundtrack, swirling visuals, and (for that time) astounding special effects, left me reeling. Thirty years later, it does all seem a bit tame, and surprisingly clumsy in parts, but I have not lost my affection for it. Helen Mirren is at her sex-siren best as the wicked  Morgana, playing her part as if it was written by Shakespeare. Nicol Williamson as Merlin is capricious, irritable, and yet shows that it is really him that holds all power, regarding the other characters like children that he has to look after. Nicholas Clay plays a worthy Lancelot, even though costume (and direction? ) make him come across like a gay pin-up boy. The cast list rolls on, never failing to impress; Gabriel Byrne, Cherie Lunghi, Patrick Stewart , Liam Neeson, Corin Redgrave, at times it just feels as if everyone is in it. Nigel Terry takes the lead as Arthur, a strange choice. For reasons best known to the director, and possibly Nigel himself, he plays the part as a country bumpkin, with appropriate accent, and slack-jawed appearance. Supposedly educated and groomed to manhood for his role as the King by Merlin, he doesn’t really alter his performance at all. That aside, there are other treats in store. Robert Addie appears as Mordred, the incestuously conceived son of Arthur, all childish wickedness, and resplendent in gold armour, looking as camp as a row of tents. He brings the country to war, famine, and disease, by attempting to seize the throne; and the Knights leave, in search of the grail, which they believe will save the realm. It is great stuff really, pretty much irresistible, but it is tosh. Here is the trailer, accompanied by the powerful music of Carl Orff.

Sorry about the length of some of those reviews, I suppose they took longer, as I had to explain why I like things that are generally considered to be unwatchable, or forgettable. Each of these films remains fresh in my mind, and each supplied one or two fantastically memorable scenes that I will never forget. That sums it up, I think.

Birds don’t like cornflakes

~ beetleypete ~ 23 Comments

When I moved here, and had a garden again, for the first time in twelve years, I resolved to be kind to wildlife, and to feed the birds. This took the form of flinging unwanted bread onto the lawn at first. It was well-received by the local Avian population, and quite soon, there were regular diners, waiting on the fences, and nearby rooftops, for my usual time of distribution. Some blackbirds even made their home in the hedges at the back, so as not too be too far from this bounty. Plump wood pigeons, looking like they were wearing well-filled, fancy waistcoats, would arrive in reasonable numbers, bullying each other out of the choicest crusts. Sometimes, great gangs of starlings would suddenly appear, clearing the whole lawn in a feeding frenzy, then speeding off, disappearing as quickly as they had arrived.

I soon wanted more. I wanted country birds. You can get starlings and blackbirds anywhere, I was after the chaffinch, and the tit, both blue, and great. A jay made a frequent appearance, all beautifully coloured plumage, and loud squawks. He was able to swallow large chunks of Gregg’s granary uncut at a stroke, and I had to start cutting it up smaller. Then we bought a wooden bird table. This is a hand-made affair, in stained boxwood, with a flat feeding area, and a pitched roof, presumably to keep the fodder dry. We purchased meal worms, to attract robins, and sunflower seeds, for the smaller birds I desired to see. The big pigeons managed to ease their bulk into the gap under the small roof, and polished it all off in minutes, leaving not a scrap for their smaller relatives. We then bought nesting boxes; two, with different sized entrances, suitable for small, and even tiny birds. They ignored them with contempt, as if they were tenth floor flats on the Stonebridge Park Estate; we couldn’t give them away. The next step was to up the ante, with a fancy item, grandly called a ‘Bird feeding station’, bought from Amazon. This was the Dubai of bird dining, on three levels, with built-in water feature, mesh seed trays, and the added extras of a fat ball holder, and metalwork seed dispenser. The pigeons were able to sit in the water, fouling it with their huge poos, as they scarfed down all the seeds, and other morsels placed around each level. The fat balls, getting no takers all season, rotted in their cage, like medieval prisoners on gibbets.

Then one day, I noticed something blue and yellow, fluttering in the shrub that I do not know the name of. (I actually don’t know the name of any of the bushes in our garden.) No, it was not a Swedish Flag, it was a tit, perhaps a blue, perhaps a great, I honestly can’t tell the difference. Then I saw more, flying at speed between the oak tree, and the unnamed bush. But they were not eating my lovingly prepared foodstuffs. Oh no, they were eating some sort of small insects that were crawling on the leaves nearby. Tit failure. We did have an occasional robin, but the last time he appeared, Ollie chased him off. So, we are left with the fat pigeons, strutting around like Town Councillors from a Victorian novel, and the blackbirds. I have cut down on the exotica, and though I occasionally put some bacon fat out, just in case, I am now back to bread. If they are bored with the uncut granary, it doesn’t notice; a fair sized wad of the stuff will disappear every day, no problem.

Three days ago, I found a load of uneaten cornflakes at the bottom of a family-sized box. I thought this just the thing for dietary variety, not to mention the beneficial riboflavin, and other essential vitamins. I scattered them on the lawn, now green again after the snow had melted, and retired inside to watch the feasting. Nothing, not a flake consumed, and they were Kellog’s too.

So, I have to conclude, that birds don’t like cornflakes.

Foreign Wars

~ beetleypete ~ 6 Comments

Just a short post, about a subject so huge, I could write about it until Doomsday. It is prompted by our recent decision (as a Country) to assist the French intervention in the civil war in Mali. I am old enough to remember when the USA sent ‘advisors’, and ‘trainers’ to South Vietnam, to help their struggling army against the Communist North. We all know how that turned out, I think.

First, we went into Iraq, for reasons so spurious, they later prompted an Inquiry, and even some arrests for perjury. Next, it was Afghanistan, once we found out that they were the people we really needed to have a crack at. After that, despite a huge commitment remaining in that Country, we went to help Libyan rebels. It wasn’t about the oil though, honest. Since then, we have been ‘assisting’ the Syrian rebels, against the Assad government, and now we have our eyes on Mali. I looked it up. No oil, but the third largest gold producer in Africa. That might be a clue.

We have been told that we need to cut back our Armed Forces by tens of thousands over the next few years. The total strength of all of them is now at one of its lowest numbers in modern history. We are barely able to defend these islands from attack, in the event of a conventional war. The economy faces a triple-dip recession. All of this, we are told, is true. If so, what the hell are we doing getting involved in more Foreign Wars? What started out as 40 trainers, is multiplying rapidly, as fast as dividing cells in a tumour.

When will we, as a Country, realise that we are only a bit-player on the World stage these days. The Empire is long gone, and nobody is scared of the British anymore.

Search Engine Terms and Top Searches

~ beetleypete ~ 7 Comments

These statistics are supplied by WordPress on your dashboard. Do you ever look at them, or give them a second thought, I wonder? For some reason, I looked at them properly today, for the first time. They make interesting, and often amusing reading. When people are searching the Internet, typing in their exact search requirement, they will possibly stumble across one of your posts, or your blog, simply by chance, as a keyword or phrase appears in something you have posted, and is exactly what they are after, or an approximation of it. Some of these have obvious connections. I posted about a man inserting a light bulb into himself, in one of my Ambulance stories. I now seem to feature in every Internet search for ‘anal insertion’, and there are a lot, believe me!

Early in my blogging venture, I wrote about ‘Going to the Pictures’, my experiences of Cinemas, in the 1960’s. There was a brief mention of Usherettes, and that was the end of it. However, it seems someone has a fascination with them, at least if daily searching is anything to go by. Recently, I have had; ‘Should Usherettes wear name tags?’ ‘Tired but happy Usherettes’, and ‘Usherettes’ Torches’. I have had a good think about this, and conclude that someone is writing a book about Usherettes, constantly searching on the Internet, for background, verifications, and new material. Either that, or there are a lot of people out there with a fixation on female Cinema workers.

Many of the most frequent searches concern my home village of Beetley. This is understandable, given the name of this blog. ‘Weather in Beetley’, ‘Transport in Beetley’, ‘House prices in Beetley’, are all common searches, and are to be expected. I also wrote about Norfolk being ‘The driest County in England.’ This was intended to be mildly sarcastic, as all I have known is rain, ever since I moved here, last March. This is something that is searched a staggering number of times. People everywhere seem to be trying to locate the driest place in England. Perhaps they want to live here, or are just worried about hosepipe bans, who knows? There are a hell of a lot of them though, according to WordPress.

The temptation is obvious. To write nonsensical posts about ridiculous, frivolous things, or something very cheeky, in the hope that the searchers will fall into my trap. I think my first one will go something like this; ‘Koala Bears found living in Norfolk, because Beetley is so dry, the houses are not too expensive, there are occasional buses, and it is home to lots of retired Usherettes who like to put things up their bums.’ That should do it, I reckon.

The stray dog

~ beetleypete ~ 3 Comments

Don’t you just love it when something comes together, with no issues, and without undue aggravation?

This is hot from the press, as it concerns this afternoon’s dog walk. I went out with Ollie before 2pm, and met up with my friend Lesley, and her dog Oban, the black Labrador. We decided to make a decent walk of it, and headed towards Hoe Rough, the large area of grazing ground nearby. We had just got to the gate, when we were approached by an elderly lady, carrying a small terrier dog. She asked if we might know who it belonged to, as she had found it wandering along the main road that leads up to Fakenham. Neither of us could recall seeing the dog around, and as it had no collar and identity disc, we were at a loss what to do. It was obvious that this lady was not in a position to cope with this stray, so we offered to take it, and to try to find the owner, who we imagined would be scouring the area, in an attempt to find it. The dog would not walk on a lead, although it was friendly, and happy to be carried.

A cursory tour of the Rough did not reveal any wandering owners, in fact, there was nobody else there except us. We returned to Beetley Meadows, where we could put the dog down, and it ran around happily enough, although somewhat intimidated by Ollie and Oban, and their boisterous antics. Lesley called the Police for advice, on the new non-emergency number. They told us that it was no longer their responsibility to deal with stray dogs, and we would have to contact Breckland Council. As Lesley had to get back home to do some work, I offered to take the dog back to my house, and to get in touch with the necessary department. I half expected to end up with a ‘new’ dog myself, having little faith in bureaucratic councils. Once I got home, the stray happily ran around with Ollie, and devoured a bowl of Pedigree Complete that I put down for her. She was very friendly, and though submissive to Ollie, she did not cry, or attempt to get out.

I got the correct contact number for the Animal Warden from the Council website, and gave it a call, expecting some option keys to be announced, and probably having to leave a message. None of it; the call was immediately answered by the mobile warden. He said that he knew of a very recent report of a lost dog nearby, with a description fitting the terrier that was currently licking my hand. He gave the owner my number, and called me back minutes later, to tell me that the man was on his way to collect her. Within ten minutes, a man rang, to tell me that he was driving along my road, and would be arriving imminently. He described the dog, and told me he lived in Mill Lane, less than five minutes walk away. The dog had got out through his side gate, when he had left to take his child to hospital. As he pulled up in his car, the little terrier was obviously pleased to see him, and they were reunited. I received the thanks of the owner, who even proffered cash for my trouble, which I declined.

This is what passes for excitement in Beetley. At least it had a happy ending.

TV shows as good as films

~ beetleypete ~ 14 Comments

A controversial post possibly, discussing the fact that some TV shows are as good as films, and often far superior to many. I refer to TV series, not one-off presentations, or to be exact, long-running serials that demand a large slice of the viewer’s life, and a lot of attention. I have seen many that fit the bill, though these are without doubt some of my favourites. The description mini-series is often used as a term of derision, suggesting second rate, padded-out stodge, that could have been presented in half the time. I would hope that none of the following suggestions fall into this category. They are also well known (well, maybe not one of them) so no real surprises, or hard to find exotica then.

The Sopranos. Spanning eight years, and running to 86 episodes, this is a landmark of entertainment, from HBO. Each episode is crafted as well as, if not better than, any gangster film ever made. If you ever have the chance to watch every episode in order, over a four day period, then I suggest that you should take it. It may ostensibly be about the New Jersey Mafia, but it is a lot more than that. It has everything. Standout performances by all the cast, even the smallest bit players; a witty, often humourous, and sharp script, with great settings and set pieces. Tony Soprano, troubled by running his crew, wondering who will succeed the dying boss, Jackie Aprile, and pestered by his nagging wife, and spoilt-brat children, begins to have panic attacks. He cannot be seen to be weak, so reluctantly goes to see a psychiatrist (Lorraine Braco) who treats him, despite her fears about who this new patient really is. This relationship is the constant throughout the series, and the interplay between them is priceless. The cast list over the years, reads like a list of every actor you ever wanted to see, and the regulars, who you see in almost every episode, are a complete box of treats. Despite occasional forays into both extreme, and casual violence, scenes of drug abuse, and the domestic troubles of a dysfunctional family, this will have you hooked from episode one. Even the names of the characters are a complete masterstroke. Who could resist wanting to find out about Paulie Walnuts, Big Pussy Bonpensiero, or Joey Peeps? Not me, that’s for sure. Here is a typical scene, featuring many of the cast.

Shooting the Past. Running just over three hours, this BBC production from 1999, will not put such a strain on your time as The Sopranos. Shown on TV in three episodes, but made to cinema quality, this, in my opinion, is the real jewel in the crown of writer and director Stephen Poliakoff. The cast includes the cream of British acting talent, with Timothy Spall, Billie Whitelaw, and Lindsay Duncan taking lead roles, ably supported by Emilia Fox, Liam Cunningham, and many more. The story is also unusual, in fact unique. It concerns a Picture Library, holding one of the best collections ever assembled, over 10,000,000 photographs. The disparate band of workers run this library from memory and card indexes, having never modernised the operation. The building, and the collection it houses are then sold off to an American developer (Cunningham) who declares his intention to build a conference centre, and sell off the valuable pictures, destroying the rest. The staff really love their work, and treasure all the pictures in the collection. So, they set about trying to persuade the developer to change his mind. Using an apparently random series of pictures, they show him that Photography has the power to touch the hardest hearts. It is, quite simply, a masterpiece. One of my favourite things of all time. Here is one of many great scenes. Please try to watch the whole series, if you ever get the chance.

I, Claudius. Adapted from two novels by Robert Graves, this 1976 BBC serialisation, was considered to be one of the greatest things ever shown on television, at that time. Starring Derek Jacobi, Brian Blessed, John Hurt, Sian Phillips, and George Baker, it runs for almost 11 hours, and was shown in 13 episodes on TV. It deals with the imagined history of Roman aristocracy, from the time of Augustus, through the reigns of Tiberius, and the crazed Caligula, until the death of Emperor Claudius himself. Told in  flashback, narrated by the elderly Claudius, it leaves out none of the double-dealing, murder, and political machinations, as the various characters struggle for power in Rome.  It was 1976, so the budget was not huge, the whole thing is filmed on studio sets, and as a result, lacks gloss and polish. It feels theatrical, and is nothing like a film in the way that you would expect to see it done today. Yet, it is completely spellbinding, and still remains one of the most important productions in British television history. Here is a taster, just to show how good it was.

Band of Brothers. Three years after ‘Saving Private Ryan’, along came this 2001 10-parter, courtesy of HBO in America. Following one company of the famous 101st Airborne, from D-Day until the end of the war, it is filmed in the familiar style of ‘Private Ryan’, with low saturation of colour, and hand-held camera work. The long running time, of almost 13 hours, gives adequate scope to develop the characters, and we see them from their initial training camp experiences, through all the trials of combat, and the horrors of war. There is also a great cast, led by Damian Lewis (an English actor playing an American, something he does a lot) and Scott Grimes. Even my old favourite, Dale Dye has a role, and also advised on military matters for the film-makers. This film covers many campaigns; as well as D-Day, there is the airborne assault into Holland, and the fighting in Germany itself, including the liberation of a concentration camp. The sheer scale allows the viewer to bond with the members of the company, and also to learn a lot about the history of this war as they do so. The cast give realistic portrayals of determined young men, thrown into hectic battles, showing great courage, and comradeship. Based on the book of the real events, this is a must see for any fan of war films. Here is the scene where the company are attacking the French town of Carentan. Superb.

The Killing. This is the original Danish crime thriller, not the dire American remake. It has two sequels, and each of the three deal with a different crime, in a multi-episode format, taking roughly one hour of screen time, to show the events of one day. Each of the three different stories was shown in 20 one-hour chunks, two at a time, on the excellent BBC4 TV channel. Fronted by the intense Sofie Grabol, as Sara Lund, the tiny, tenacious terrier of an investigator, sacrificing her relationships, and family life, to solve the mysteries, and find the killers. This type of programme is well-known to us all, and we are perhaps tired of long-running series, where familiar policemen, and their forensic colleagues, sift through evidence, to search for the truth. The cliches are all present; disobeying orders, pressure from higher up, and a difficult lead character, who does not relate to her partners. Trouble at home, too busy to see her boyfriend, and unsure about her future. It sounds so familiar, you may as well switch off now. Well don’t. This time, it’s better, darker, more realistic, and grips you from the first scene. Maybe it is the bleak North European locations, or the fact that the cast are all unfamiliar, Scandinavian actors. Scripts and plots are familiar also, but strangely, you just somehow know that they are better. There is attention to detail, no attempt to glamourise anything, and production values that would compare with any recent ‘big film’; think the original ‘Dragon Tattoo’ trilogy, but better.  Not only do you get to see the investigation into the crime, there are also equally good sub-plots, involving the political dealings and bureaucracy surrounding the events. A complete work in every way, made for the intelligent viewer. This clip is comprised of some stills, and the theme tune in the background.

Those are just some of the recommended titles that could consume a huge part of your life, if you ever decide to let them. I know there are many others missed out. I have not seen ‘The Wire’ yet, so could not comment on it, and I would like to have included another Danish series ‘Borgen’, but the post would run too long. And then there is ‘The Bridge’, a marvellous Swedish/Danish co-production, and not forgetting ‘Parades End’, British drama of the highest order. Another article about all those later, methinks…

A happy blogger

~ beetleypete ~ 9 Comments

During the last few weeks, justifiably inactive outside for the most part, due to inclement weather, I have written and published a lot of posts. I have also added a new category, allowing me to explore my love of Film and Cinema, and there are still quite a few Ambulance stories up my sleeve, for later. Including this one, I have published 183 posts, and managed to keep hold of a following of more than 50 other bloggers, as well as e mail contacts from friends and family.

More than this, I now have new contacts and friends, people that I have never met, yet feel strangely close to. We might have otherwise spent our lives in understandable ignorance of each other, but we are able to cross divides, and to learn about different lives, and other hopes and aspirations. Some are watching my film recommendations, and they are actually pleased, when they already know one that I have suggested. Others are fascinated by the tales of my days in the Ambulance Service, even if the harsh realities of that job often seem too fantastic to be true. I have received help and advice with problems, constructive suggestions, and felt sincere affection, just from small comments after a post. These people span the full range of ages, backgrounds, and types. Outside of the blog however, it is unlikely that we would ever feel it natural to meet up, or become close. Putting all else aside, this is truly the power of being a blogger; human contact, communication, new experiences, and the sharing of ideas, and information.

I consider myself very lucky. I have not yet attracted the attention of many mad people, and only a few Religious zealots. Since I blogged about it, they have also stopped trying to sell me ladders, and foreign holidays, though a lot are still peddling their books, by liking posts, and pretending to follow blogs. They are a minority though, and to be expected in the age of electronic access. What I am left with, is a core of good blogging friends, and I truly believe that I will endeavour to remain in touch with them, whatever happens. And one of these days, if my financial situation ever improves, I may even go and visit some of them. So, you are warned!

I am one happy blogger today.

Beetley weather report

~ beetleypete ~ 2 Comments

I have frequently mentioned my growing obsession with the weather, since moving to the countryside. I recently posted about the snow, and the way it complicated my life here. Well, you will be pleased to know, (like anyone cares) that the snow has now gone. In its place, we have heavy rain, and strong winds.

The meadow has returned to its natural state, of mud resembling a Flanders field in 1917, and what leaves are left, are blowing around in tiny whirlwinds. The trees are falling over, roots rotted by months of rain, and flooded fields, and the forecast for the rest of the week, is more torrential rain.

On the plus side, temperatures have climbed dramatically. It is 10 degrees C as I type, and tomorrow should be 14 degrees. I might get my shorts out, and try to find my flip-flops.

Is it me? (Again…)

~ beetleypete ~ 3 Comments

Well, looks like I have done it again. Regular readers will be well aware of my habitual failure with any technology product. Despite raging against the machine, I have usually had to conclude that it was my own shortcomings that were to blame. This time, it is my home phone. I have had constant trouble with the base station, and additional handset, bought from BT, just over a year ago. Loud buzzing ruined any potential call, and replacing the batteries seemed to do the trick. After this happened for the third time, I should have shipped it back to BT, and told them to bin it. But no, mug that I am, I fiddled with the batteries, and manged to get it going. Last week, spookily just out of guarantee, it began buzzing again. No amount of unskilled tinkering would rectify the fault, so I resolved not to waste more money, on yet more rechargeable batteries; I would bite the bullet, and replace the whole thing.

A quick browse on the Internet, and I found a Panasonic combination, almost exactly the same as the BT equipment, for what seemed a reasonable £39. It arrived today, and I soon set it up, making sure that I fully charged it for eight hours, as per the instructions. Needless to say, it is still buzzing, so it is probably a fault with the line, and not the telephones after all. I now have to face trawling through the BT options menu later today, using my mobile, and constantly telling them that it is not the number I am calling about. I would sooner stick pins in my eyes. I might just as well have drawn out £39, and thrown it from the window of a moving car.

Anyone want to buy a nice BT base station and handset, one careful owner?

……..UPDATE…… Seems like it wasn’t all ‘me’ this time. See comments below, if you are remotely interested in what happened…

Some different Crime films

~ beetleypete ~ 20 Comments

Films involving criminals, drugs, robberies, gangsters, murderers, and cops. We have all seen them, and we all have our favourites. There are the big blockbusters, the old Hollywood films, and some that are legendary. The following selection offers some that are not that well-known, and perhaps give a different slant on the genre, or maybe they don’t. You decide.

The Outfit. This 1973 film hands Robert Duvall a starring role as Macklin, a small-time crook, just released from prison. He learns that the Syndicate are after him, and have killed his brother, as they were unaware that they had stolen money from this ‘Outfit’. Accompanied by his girlfriend (Karen Black), he enlists the help of his friend Cody ( Joe Don Baker), and sets out to get revenge. He does this by robbing all of the undercover operations run on behalf of The Outfit, stealing a fortune in the process. Over time, he gets ever nearer to the head of this anonymous organisation ( Robert Ryan, in one of his last films), becoming a thorn in their side. This feels like a B film, in every way imaginable, yet is none the worse for that. The 1970’s cars and clothes, the flat colours of the cinematography, and uninspired locations, all seem to add to the atmospheric feel. The lead actors are all suitably dowdy, and therefore more believable, and there are a few wonderfully overblown cameos from some bit-part actors on the way. This is certainly not a landmark film, but it is interesting, and different, so worth a watch. Here’s a trailer.

 

Atlantic City. This is a 1980 film, one of two made in America, by the French director, Louis Malle. It stars Burt Lancaster, as Lou, in one of his best performances, alongside Susan Sarandon, as the trainee casino worker, and the object of Lou’s desire. Lou is like the city he lives in, trading on former glory, fantasies, and a faded past. He is a small-time hustler, who likes to pretend he was once a big-time gangster. He spends his time spinning yarns about the old days, running a small numbers racket, and living off his ageing girlfriend Grace, played by Kate Reid. One day, he spots the young and attractive Sally, who is working selling shellfish to fund her casino training, and becomes obsessed with her, forming an unlikely relationship. Her ex-husband turns up, a low-life who has stolen drugs from the mob, and is on the run. He is tracked down by them, and killed, leaving the drugs behind with Sally. She and Lou decide to sell them, and the elderly Lou finally achieves some credibility, at least by his reckoning, as an Atlantic City drug dealer. This film is surprisingly warm, and often humourous. The acting standards are high, and performances impeccable. The slow pace is both understandable, and welcome, and the whole thing screams class, at every turn. Here is Burt Lancaster, the worm turning.

The Limey. This is an American film, directed in 1999, by Stephen Soderbergh. However, it stars Terence Stamp, the superb English actor, famous for his films in the 1960’s. There is even frequent use of clips from one of these films, ‘Poor Cow’, used for the flashback sequences in this film, to portray Stamp as a younger man. Stamp dominates this film as Wilson, the ruthless English criminal, just released from a long sentence. He learns that his daughter has died in a car crash in Los Angeles, where she had been living with a famous record producer (Peter Fonda). Wilson flies out to the city, determined to find out the truth for himself. He enlists the help of one of his daughter’s friends (the always reliable Luis Guzman), and sets about tracking down those responsible. This film is not about the action, though when it comes, it does so in realistic, short, sharp bursts. It is about recrimination, the longing for a wasted youth, and failure as a father. It also has something to say about modern pop culture, and its disposable attitude to everything, including people. Stamp is never less than riveting throughout the film, and a satisfying pace, as well as a prevailing sense of edginess, lift this work above much else in the genre. As you may gather, I like it a lot. This clip shows Stamp at his menacing best.

Donnie Brasco. A big budget, and a cast of Hollywood A-list stars, does not necessarily guarantee a great film. I am sure you can think of many examples where this is true, I know I can. In this film, directed in 1997, by Mike Newell, that combination comes together perfectly, and the casting is the main reason why. Johnny Depp takes the title role of Donnie, the assumed name of an FBI agent, who spends his life undercover, infiltrating the Mafia. This was a true story, and is based on the book by the actual agent. Al Pacino was born to play the part of Lefty, a tired hit-man, with little influence in the organisation, always broke, and struggling to make ends meet. He is passed over for promotion in his gang, watching this hoped for step-up go to Sonny Black, played with his usual wry grin, by Michael Madsen. Seeking to increase his income, and to find favour with the new boss, Lefty brings Donnie into the group, falling for his cover story, and believing him to be a ‘stand up guy’. Meanwhile, Donnie’s real life is coming apart. His wife wants to leave him, as he is never home, and she has no idea what he is doing. His children hardly know him, and his FBI superiors feel that he is getting in too deep. The interplay between Pacino and Depp is pure joy, and marks Johnny Depp as a truly great actor. Pacino gives the performance of his life, as the hot and cold hoodlum, capable of incredible violence, then going home to watch wildlife films in his tiny apartment, unable to control his own drug-addicted son. As Donnie infiltrates ever deeper, things begin to fall apart around Lefty, and the downward spiral of his life begins. A brilliant gangster film, every bit as good as the others that will spring into your minds; and possibly better than all of them. Here is the trailer.

The Man Who Wasn’t There. The Coen brothers. Like them, love them even, or loathe them, you cannot deny talent when you see it. I might argue that they have good and bad days, resulting in good and bad films. If so, this was one of their better days, and produced an exquisite work. Set in 1949, with a perfect feel for the period, enhanced by wonderful black and white photography, this 2001 film recalls the film noir of that era; the smoky rooms of small-town America, on the other side of the post-war boom. Billy Bob Thornton is Ed Crane, town barber, second chair in his brother-in-law’s shop. He cuts hair, smokes constantly, and shoots the breeze with his customers. Inside, he dreams of better things; his own dry-cleaning business, something to support his attractive wife Doris. (Played by Frances McDormand, who is almost always in Coen brothers films, as she is married to Joel Coen. Decent actress though, despite the obvious nepotism.) Doris meanwhile, is having an affair with her department store boss, (James Gandolfini) drinking too much, and aspiring to nicer things. Ed decides to exploit the situation by blackmailing the boss, and getting the money he needs for the new business. Even without plot spoilers, you can probably guess what happens. It doesn’t really matter though, as this captivating film would still be worth the effort, even if they showed the ending first. Here is the short trailer.

There you have five choices, about various crimes. They include a couple of my very favourites, and one lesser, though still interesting, example of the genre. If you don’t like them, I will be sorry, but that’s up to you, isn’t it?