marramgrass

This summer, actually the rest of this year, is rather intensely populated by weddings to be attended. This includes one in Berkely on 14th August, which I had been rather geared up and excited about. At least, excited until I checked the date.

You see, I have this unshakable work commitment to a summer club-thing that runs until lunchtime on the 13th August, which means there is no way I can find to physically get to California in time for the wedding, and if it was managable then I would be slightly the worse for wear after the flight.

Driving out this morning listening to all the chat about this ‘radical’ Abu Hamza guy, and Radio Scotland had a soundbite from an American reporter based in the area where he (allegedly – I’m only repeating what was on the radio) tried to set up his terrorism training camp.

I can’t give you word for word since I was negotiating the Edinburgh-Glasgow rush hour traffic at the time, but it ran something like this: “It’s a pretty rural area with lots of trees and dust and dirt and stuff, the kind of place you’d only really be interested in if you were trying to evade the law.”

Or if you, say, enjoyed a bit of piece of quiet in the countryside. Or just didn’t fancy hanging around in cities all the time.

Van Helsing is a very bad film. Not so-bad-it’s-good. Not so-bad-it’s-funny. Just bad.

Before the final credits rolled I was actually laughing out loud, it was so horrendous.

Dodgy accents, scripting, direction. Clunky exposition, ‘interesting’ effects sequences, and the same narrative run twice-over through the film.

But Richard Roxburgh’s New Romantic Dracula (introduced to a proper Prince Charming drum beat running underneath the action: I doubt it was intentional, but it was perfect) makes it all worthwhile. Go and see it, just for him.

Last weekend we had a new addition to the household – a nine-week-old Lab/Irish Water Spaniel cross called Luka. Talk about energy. Talk about ability to produce excrement. And the requirement for constant supervision… Perfect for when I’m still out of commission with some as-yet-unidentified gastric problem.

And this weeknd we are babysitting the sister of our new dog for the friends of ours who gave her a home. With two of the lovely little girls I had foolishly believed the potential for trouble would be doubled. No such luck: squared.

Unless you’re Fox.

A few days visiting my parents, which I spent being ill, became an introduction to Firefly – space opera from Joss Whedon, the dude behind Buffy and Angel. I’m sure I’m coming a bit late to this, but it’s brilliant.

And it got cancelled. There’s only fourteen episodes. And that’s just wrong.

Hit Amazon. Hit Play. Go to Tesco and buy a copy. I can recommend taking a day and watching it in one go. Trust me. You’ll thank me for it.

Among my posting backlog at the minute are a couple of films.

21 Grams

Hum. 21 Grams isn’t very nice, or uplifting, or cheerful. It is, however, very good. Extremely high quality writing, direction, especially acting. It got me thinking about a bunch of stuff, particularly hope in the face of tragedy, which I guess is about as close as I could get to summing up what it’s about. If I tried to outline the plot I’d probably get stuck trying not to stick spoilers in – the funny chronology of it means that much of the plot doesn’t come out until quite late in the film. Actually, the screwy chronology (a la Memento) does much to magnify how powerful this show is.

Don’t watch it expecting an easy, entertaining ride. But do watch it expecting the best film of 2004 so far, which includes my next one:

Kill Bill vol. 2

I enjoyed the first film, but after watching the concluding installment vol. 1 feels more like an intro. Whereas it majored on cartoon violence with limbs and blood everywhere, this one shows some semblance of a plot, and drama. Nice. And just a little hint of that Tarantino dialogue (although maybe he has lost his snap ever so slightly). Nicer.

It also has Pai Mei (although his beard will seriously annoy), Budd (Michael Madsen looking not so cool but just as groovy – if you get me, which you probably don’t), and most of all, Bill. David Carradine smooths along as the bad guy you know is a total git no matter what he says, but you love him anyway purely for his cool factor and the fact that he gets all the best lines.

And the bit with the coffin, the ‘Texas funeral’, made me squirm more than most stuff in movies can.

/shudder

Tarantino’s cool is all present and correct, treading the fine line between homage and urine-extraction – crash zooms and cheesy facial expressions abound in the kung fu training scenes, accompanied by the perfect soundtrack – along with that of all his stars and cameos (look out for Sam L.). All in all, it’s no Pulp Fiction, but Kill Bill 1 & 2 add up to a whole lot of fun.

(Can you tell which film I saw more recently? Yup, you’re right…)