Slumdog Millionaire (Film Review)

There were high expectations surrounding this film. Edgy and youthful director Danny Boyle, face like a spade, previous credits include Trainspotting, The Beach, 28 Days Later - looks like a Brit made his way into the Hollywood cool club.

Fair enough. Let's all give credit where credit is due. I know i'd like to be there. But alas i'm not, so i'll keep my critical sword sharpened and my bitterness at an arm's length, and proceed with this review.

As it turns out, Danny Boyle definitely does deserve his place amongst the cool club, and so does Slumdog Millionaire. A fantastic cast of young and old actors perform brilliantly in this love story set across the slums of India. The Slumdog himself (Dev Patel) is put through his paces on a show of Who Wants To Be A Millionaire, and he keeps getting the questions right despite not having received any education whatsoever. How does he do it? Well that's the story folks. Each question prompts a flashback to a moment in his turbulent life in which the answer reveals itself.

Great scripting and brilliant acting. The images are rich with the colours of India; died cloths being hung to dry, the earthy reds of building sites and the misty sunset behind the Taj Mahal. The editing carries us forth at blistering pace, and we get an espresso style shot of Indian culture across various class bandwidths.

However - here comes the knife - I can't help but wonder if this film is getting plaudits at the moment for a style of filmmaking it borrows from an even longer tradition of Bollywood filmmaking in India. Perhaps an industry and method of cinematography which hasn't until now been recognised by the major award bodies. But in Slumdog Millionaire, it receives the right amount of 'Westernisation', to bring it to the attention of the judges who hand out their golden statues.

This - and this only - is my complaint. But perhaps it is not substantial enough to merit me criticising this film too heavily, and maybe Slumdog will sheer in new international audiences for Bollywood filmmaking. Maybe.

Let me put the sword away however, and celebrate a good film when I see one.

Here we have a fast-paced, historical action love comedy story. There's a bit of everything in there, but it's not necessarily a film for everyone. You need to like all of these things to truly enjoy this film. You need to like the moments when you cringe, when you laugh, when you breathe a sigh of relief and when you feel you could cry because of the injustice you're seeing on the screen. If you're not into all of these things at once, Slumdog isn't for you. If you are, there's a real treat waiting for you at the cinema.

To Do: Watch more Bollywood.

TV Review: 'The Diary of Anne Frank'

Write the following down on your "To-Do" list - Watch The Diary of Anne Frank

I must take my hat off to the BBC for a thoroughly enjoyable drama series. Before I heap further praise on the programme itself, i'll take another hat off and bow it toward Geoff Breton, my friend from school who plays Peter Van Daan in the show. A cracking perfomance and it's good to finally see Geoff getting the praise and airtime he deserves because he's a bloody good actor.

If you haven't seen or heard of this dramatisation, the basic jist is a fleshing out of the actual text of the diary itself, using (I think) the diary itself to form a voice-over narration from Anne.

The setting of the annexe lends itself well to five shorter 30 minute mini-dramas rather than a huge slog of 2 hours in which we might have started to get a little claustrophobic in our seats. I think this is a great way for the major British networks to start releasing their dramas. All too often we get a huge chunk of a crime drama dumped at 9pm on ITV and can't be bothered to invest two hours of our lives without promise of a good show. And once we're an hour into it, we've missed all of our alternative programme choices, and have to stubbornly stick it out to the end when we already know the muderer is the vicar who dodged the police questions after ten minutes and who claimed the crimson blood on the chalice was the wine of christ and how dare they accuse christ of being a murderer. Case solved.

If we get drama in bite-size, we can have a little taster, see if we want to taste more, and then proceed as we wish. Plus it's so simple on BBC iPlayer to make these choices when you need to.

If you haven't already - go to the iPlayer, and watch 'The Diary of Anne Frank' - it's fantastic and moving and for the first time in a while, i'm proud of the BBC for producing some world-class television.

I'm also pretty proud of Geoff. I guess he's probably got lots of girls coming up to him in the street now, saying stuff like "Hey, aren't you that guy from Anne Frank, can I have your number? Can I put it in my diary?" Which would be a sick joke for a girl to make, but he probably goes along with it. He probably gets free drinks and free Armani suits. He probably has an entourage now with drivers and cooks and everything. He probably has people blogging about him and telling the whole world that they know a famous guy from the telly.

Some people are just plain lucky. Others blog.

Crikey!! 'Austraila': Film Review

Rating :

Returning from an afternoon cinema trip to see 'Gone With The Wind 2', better known at the box office as 'Australia', my head was rushing. Papered across town with mixed reviews, some good, some bad, some awful; clearly this was a film that had split opinion.

It had not split me however. A genuinely good film I thought. Normally I can't stand Nicole Kidman. Her extreme-Englishness makes me want to throw a cricket ball at her head. Her forehead makes for such a large target that I should strike something. Plus, I partly blame her for ruining my saint-like appreciation of Tom Cruise, the once pearly-smiled likeable shortman of Hollywood turned scientological fanatic and destroyer of anything that's holy. BUT - this aggression aside, she was bearable for most of the 2hrs 45 mins.

Expect the dubious nods to Australian culture such as the token kangaroo, and the portrayal of the aboriginals in the film is bound to stir up some controversy somewhere. Although, I can't help but feel a fairer treatment is given to them than can be spoken of the cameo Greek actors in 'Mamma Mia!' - something I may not have noticed if I hadn't been dating a Greek girl for some time now - efharisto very much.

At this length you better make sure you keep some popcorn for the final stretch, at least to keep the Kidman-itis at bay. But I can't say I was ever bored by this film, or ever wished it would end. It was, in nature, an epic. Epics require a longer pitch. There is nothing quite so epic about a 90 minute Woody Allen comedy - humorous, rude, illicit - but not epic.

You may well disagree with me about Woody and his heroic sagas of life and love in downtown upstate, leftside New York. But, regardless, this is where I ask Pandora to open up her box - what makes a film an epic?

It's clear that we love epics. They are some of the most celebrated and awarded films in history. Ben Hur (1959) won 11 Academy Awards, a feat matched only by two other films, one of which was Lord of the Rings (2004), a great epic of the 21st Century. Various films have tried to make claims to join the genre.

King Kong (both 1933 and 2005) made valid claims. They are films with high production values, sweeping musical scores and an ensemble cast of bankable stars. But we can't honestly think for a second that an overgrown monkey on an overgrown building has the mettle to be an epic? It's just not realistic enough - it lacks believability. Now we enter difficult terrain.

What claim can Lord of The Rings or Star Wars have to be an epic? Answer: their fantasy world remains consistent within itself. The world of a hobbit or a jedi is alien to us, but natural to those characters. In films like King Kong (Jurrassic Park, Spiderman - all super hero films), the audience is asked to confront a world which is parrallel to their own, a realism they know and experience on a day-to-day basis, but which in fact contains a totally uncomprehendable fantasy element. Blurring this boundary between what they know and what they cannot possibly know defies believability for a filmgoer. As long as the filmic world remains consistent to itself, and does not offer the viewer a bit of both worlds, fantasy and reality - then credibility can be found in almost any type of epic.

The epic relies on this factor and a good many other things.

People must die, and always people we like. Characters must seek vengence, and get it, and finally lose it. There's almost always a developing love, enveloping into a kiss, sometimes a marriage, always a lovers' tiff. There are animals, weapons, water, land, blood, tears and laughter - all of these things and all other things. You see - the thing about an epic is that it has to have a little bit of everything. That's what gives it scale and power. That's why we like it so much.


In every way, Australia, Baz Luhrmann's new epic, fulfilled all of these things. It's a fantastic film and I recommend you go see it soon. Doubtless everything appears more epic on the big screen than your TV, so don't wait for it to come out on DVD, splash the cash. And if you can't do that, wait for Orange Wednesdays.


To Do: Watch more epics.

Where does Santa stay abroad? A HO-HO-HOTEL.

Christmas. Well, what can I tell ya?

Shopping was left to the last minute, as usual. Done in a haze, hazily done. Oxford Street. Saturday 20th December. Dad - check. Grandad - check. Nana - check. Cristina - check. Mum - too difficult to buy for, leave it - hope something will turn up.

Worked 22nd and 23rd. Met Cristina at Euston station on the 23rd to take a train which would take us northward to Manchester. We both arrived as if we'd packed for a 2 year stay in an unpredictable climate country. Finally get the bags onto a train, Burger King brown bag in hand to start us off with a classic Christmas food group.

On the way, we discuss other food groups. Cristina quotes Elf: "We elves try to stick to the four main food groups: candy, candy canes, candy corns and syrup."

I groan.

Tuesday 23rd. A fantastic meal of Christmas lasagne with parents, Grandpa, Cristina and best mate Crooky. Wine flows, chaos ensues, Mum asks me why i'm not a lawyer. Christmas has officially started. Excitement.

Wednesday 24th - Christmas Eve. Family trip to restaurant in Manchester, more meatball type behaviour of stuffing faces and boozing. Last minute shopping for Mum, in heavy and detailed consultation with my Dad - goes something like this:

INT. DEPARTMENT STORE - AFTERNOON.

Adam

Dad, do you think Mum would like this
make-up bag?

Dad
I just don't know son.
Adam
What do you think she wants?
Dad
She has everything son.
Adam
But I need to get her something.
Dad
I just don't know son.

Leave parents around 4pm, Cristina reminds me that tomorrow is her name day, which in Greece is more important than a birthday. She reminds me of this fact whilst holding my hand with a tight grip. This threat prompts an 11th hour shopping spree - purchase Legally Blonde and Legally Blonde 2 - ideal presents. Name Day shname day - taken care of.

In the cinema by 6pm to see 'Four Christmases'. 2 for 1 tickets - Oranges Wednesdays!!! I couldn't believe my luck. Deduce the fortune to be an early present from Santa - feel content.
Film is rubbish, dampers Christmas spirit slightly.

Too much alcohol and too much Italian food makes Cristina a bit nautious - she heads to bed early after I make her up a snackplate of cold meats and cheese. She loves this. From what I gather, her mother's snack plate is both famous and delicious. Feel good about recreating some snack plate spirit. This soujourn gives me a break to wrap the presents. Cristina comments that my bow-curling skills are too good and inappropriate for a man.

25th December. Wake up. Duh. Feeling great. Christmas morning!!! Not the buzz of being 6 years old, but still a good one. Cristina and I go through our stockings, fantastic and thoughtful presents on both sides.

Around 10pm, we head down to the lounge, joined by parents. Mum has decided to lavish Cristina with an array of pink themed gifts: slippers, shampoo, socks and bath robe. Parents don't disappoint - a fantastic spread. Mum opens her bluetooth handsfree in-car mobile phone kit - her look is pricelss. Thanks Dad.

Christmas Day breakfast at midday - a Christmas walk, and then Christmas Dinner at 6.30. We settle down on the sofa, boozed and bulging. The boardgames come out, SceneIt Interactive Movie Quiz. Dad becomes hugely competitive, Cristina joins him in this spirit and tries to beat hard on a tired mother and ageing Grandpa. They lose, Dad gets frustrated, but not disheartened. Mum asks me why i'm not a lawyer. Collapse in bed after one last inspection of Christmas presents.

*****

There was probably a lot more along the way. And it was all a bit of a whirlwind. I'm sure your Christmas was the same. A madcap dash to shop, eat, drink, unwrap and sleep. People say it's a great time for taking stock of where you're at in life. I think it all happens too quickly for that. But, it does give you a chance to take stock of those around you. Friends, family, cats, dogs, hamsters - everyone. In which case, I had a great Christmas, and would do it all again in a flash.

To Do: Christmas

walkin' the walk

My housemate showed me this incredible picture of Obama on the campaign trail, as he talks to reporters in Providence, Rhode Island (a state which eventually went to Clinton in the primary). 

The detail of the worn-out soles of his shoes says everything really. And in the bottom right corner, you can just about make out the spine of his own book, 'The Audacity of..." 

Go now and see lots more incredible photos at Time magazine's web-site. 

Pepsi - well done, you made a funny...

                                                                                                                                                                      
 

I'm quite a fan of this Pepsi Max advert, which I found lying around the internet somewhere.

Twist, follows twist, follows twist = FUNNY. Well done Pepsi, you piqued my interest. 

BUT - let's not kid ourselves - massive stereotyping has it's place in this world. How do we differentiate between a geeky girl and a hot mama? Simple: a pair of wide-rimmed glasses and a book. Hot mama wearing the time-tested LBD - simple formulas work, as upsetting and impersonal as they may be. 

What is the gay guy wearing? A black 't', tightly fitted around the biceps and chest region (yes, I notice). Is this a formula? Yes and no. Yes because a lot of gay guys go for the black 't' look. No because if you're straight, the chances are you can't pull one off. 

Douchebag Holiday photos

Why is it the case that when people are abroad, and they see a shop with a mildly rude name - they feel the need to take a photo of it? And then show it to the world by posting it on facebook. I just don't get what their message is. 

"Here, LOOK at the name of this shop - 'KNOBS AND KNOCKERS' - honest, it's a real shop, I took a photo. Don't you get it? KNOBS as in, well you know. And KNOCKERS, as in, well you know, tits. Look, I took a photo." 

"What do they sell?" 

"Dunno. Bras and underpants I reckon."

 Just in case you thought I was kidding. 

We've probably all done it at some point in our lifetime. I remember when I was fifteen on a ski holiday to France, on the bus to Meribel, we passed the quaint little village of Pussy (there's probably a french accent somewhere on that name). Predictably, the whole coach thought the coincidence was too hilarious to miss with a camera. 

Most ridiculous are the photos of signs, restaurants or shops which have the same name as the person taking them. Or even, worse, if you see a shop called 'Doug - charcuterie' and decide that your actual friend Doug from back home would fall off his chair laughing when he finds out that there is a little ham shop on the outskirts of Marseilles named after him. Just. Not. Funny. 

"Oh look - there's a car. A car that has 'Coke' on the side. I've NEVER seen that in my life. Quick, quick, get a picture before it drives away. No, wait, get a picture with me trying to open it as if it's my coke car. Hey, shit, I just thought, "coke car" - do you think the guy is a drug dealer?"

Maybe I'm being a bit harsh here. It's only a bit of holiday harmless fun after all. Let's not take it too seriously.