When I heard somebody commented a couple of years ago that it was 'very well-written', I thought 'well, naturally, you have read all of his books'. I had not followed Lord Jeffery Archer's case fully; but it was so high profile that it was unlikely for anyone to be able to miss it if you were living in the UK at that time. He seemed to have acted shamelessly and the idea that he would publish a series of books on his prison experience sounded like daylight robbing and downright disgraceful.
I am now down to its second series (of three), and I realised last night that I had been preferring to miss my films on DVDs rather than missing the chapters. Yes, I find it a problem that he has discussed many a time that the judge had not given him a fair summery and sentence, yet never a word has been uttered on his own act of perjury to lead to his public downfall. But if you can put that aside for a while, it is a very powerful document written with great simplicity, clarity, and fluency. So on one hand, I find myself trying to maintain a critical distance from the writer who had instigated his own fall, on the other, I am eager to find out what would happen to him next - surrounded by social outcasts of violent or severe crimes. I now believe that it was not just for his own sanity that he should keep and publish his diary, but also for the greater good of the inmates and the general public alike. It is his duty as a 'lord', public figure, writer, to raise the profile of those many issues that had frustrated so many on both sides of the high wall. For that, well done.
August 04, 2009
July 27, 2009
Mad world, my masters
If reading The Troublesome Offspring of Cardinal Guzman was like navigating in the a pitch dark tunnel, then Mad World, My Masters was like, well, driving a fast car without a fixed destination in mind. It was thrilling, absorbing and time went fast one pages were turned. It was breezy all day yesterday and I could not think of anything better to do except for trying to find out what happen next.
As someone who seldom has television on, or at least not for news, I have never watched Simpson's World or John Simpson's television reporting in great length. But the fame was such that when Have I Got News for You chose to tease him on his outfit in one of his assignments to the middle east, I found it incredible that even a highly respectable journalist (not politician) would get 'treatment' like that.
Then when I reached the recollection on the Hong Kong handover, especially the remarks on what MIGHT be inside the minds of the Chinese mandarins at the function hosted by the Chinese government, which he was not invited, a light shed on my brain and that episode of HIGNFY suddenly seemed to make perfect sense. There he was doing what a professional journalist should have restrained from doing: allowing himself to form a casual generation of a group of people/country/regime he did not know well enough. His opinion was neither new nor strange in Western media; in fact, that attitude and approach of his towards all things to do with Communist China underlies the majority of the British media coverage. In reflection, I was only disappointed because I had expected him to be an exception.
As someone who seldom has television on, or at least not for news, I have never watched Simpson's World or John Simpson's television reporting in great length. But the fame was such that when Have I Got News for You chose to tease him on his outfit in one of his assignments to the middle east, I found it incredible that even a highly respectable journalist (not politician) would get 'treatment' like that.
Then when I reached the recollection on the Hong Kong handover, especially the remarks on what MIGHT be inside the minds of the Chinese mandarins at the function hosted by the Chinese government, which he was not invited, a light shed on my brain and that episode of HIGNFY suddenly seemed to make perfect sense. There he was doing what a professional journalist should have restrained from doing: allowing himself to form a casual generation of a group of people/country/regime he did not know well enough. His opinion was neither new nor strange in Western media; in fact, that attitude and approach of his towards all things to do with Communist China underlies the majority of the British media coverage. In reflection, I was only disappointed because I had expected him to be an exception.
July 24, 2009
When a man loves a woman
I watched the film version last night and found its script underdeveloped and the performance especially that of the leading actor rather wooden and lacking in depth. It was a waste because the film could go many directions but in the end, it didn't get anywhere at all and ended up being a rather bland one. It almost felt as if the scriptwriter was afraid of its appeal if it were brave enough to treat the subject in depth by showing the gritty bit of real life experiences. Perhaps the fact that it was led by one of the most charismatic leading actor of the time and the then the 'heart of romantic comedy' (of the 1990s) didn't help either because they had their certain images to maintain?
The title song played in full in the opening sequence was also misleading in the way it made the audience to anticipate a rather different type of film. But ultimately, it is a punishment to people like myself who feel at times that since certain actors are in it, then I have the obligation to watch it. This is not the first time it happened, and it won't be the last either.
The title song played in full in the opening sequence was also misleading in the way it made the audience to anticipate a rather different type of film. But ultimately, it is a punishment to people like myself who feel at times that since certain actors are in it, then I have the obligation to watch it. This is not the first time it happened, and it won't be the last either.
July 21, 2009
Sense and Sensibility
There are at least two versions of BBC drama 'Sense and Sensibility' in the public library, one made in 2008 with many new faces, the other in 1981 which looked even less familiar. I had been rather disappointed by the new version, because in comparison to the film adaptation of 1996, a lot of the added or 'modernised' details seemed trivial and insignificant to me. I regarded the film the most loyal to the novel, despite the age gap of Elinor between the two.
When my boss was consulted on it, she urged her husband to pick up the 1981 version without delay. It must be soon after the DVD was returned that I saw it on the 'newly returned' shelf. Her remark prompted me to pick it up and watched it soon afterwards.
Strange how one's opinions could change. Despite being shot in 1981, the images still look rather fresh and appealing, and the actress who played Marianne is the most pretty of the three versions. But the weakness in both the production and the script were rather 'obvious' to me. In comparison, both the film adaptation and the 2008 version take great care when dealing with the implicit psychological impact on the family of the sudden decline in fortune and social status following the death of the patriarch. In both versions, Elinor was the only one who was able to face up its challenges with relative calm and ease. But in the 1981 version, there is no sign of such consideration being taken into account. In addition, it had wiped out Margaret altogether. What a pity considering what the other two versions had done with this minor character in book who was though too young to have any romantic involvements, but a useful one nevertheless to advance the drama or to add humour into the story.
But the 'biggest' failure is in characterisation, especially of Marianne. In the 1981 adaptation, she appeared self-centred until the last episode. Indeed, despite her good looks, she was the least likable of all three variations of Marianne. In the other two versions, she was made to wake up from her errors and selfishness from her sick bed, which seemed more logical, and her change of attitude towards the colonel more natural and human.
In both the film adaptation and the 2008 drama, scriptwriters have taken great pain to make Edward more attractive, or more 'worthy' of the devoted love and affection of Elinor and her family. But I am not sure if the old version had that in mind - which was not a fault in itself because the novel didn't give much space on it either, but shows nevertheless how the time has changed in less than 30 years. The recent producers have wanted audience to identify with Elinor in her love and affection of Edward, while in the 1981 version, it didn't seem to be a concern to the producer. In comparison, this is the only one in which Edward's sister was played by an actress who didn't have a face to match her selfishness.
When my boss was consulted on it, she urged her husband to pick up the 1981 version without delay. It must be soon after the DVD was returned that I saw it on the 'newly returned' shelf. Her remark prompted me to pick it up and watched it soon afterwards.
Strange how one's opinions could change. Despite being shot in 1981, the images still look rather fresh and appealing, and the actress who played Marianne is the most pretty of the three versions. But the weakness in both the production and the script were rather 'obvious' to me. In comparison, both the film adaptation and the 2008 version take great care when dealing with the implicit psychological impact on the family of the sudden decline in fortune and social status following the death of the patriarch. In both versions, Elinor was the only one who was able to face up its challenges with relative calm and ease. But in the 1981 version, there is no sign of such consideration being taken into account. In addition, it had wiped out Margaret altogether. What a pity considering what the other two versions had done with this minor character in book who was though too young to have any romantic involvements, but a useful one nevertheless to advance the drama or to add humour into the story.
But the 'biggest' failure is in characterisation, especially of Marianne. In the 1981 adaptation, she appeared self-centred until the last episode. Indeed, despite her good looks, she was the least likable of all three variations of Marianne. In the other two versions, she was made to wake up from her errors and selfishness from her sick bed, which seemed more logical, and her change of attitude towards the colonel more natural and human.
In both the film adaptation and the 2008 drama, scriptwriters have taken great pain to make Edward more attractive, or more 'worthy' of the devoted love and affection of Elinor and her family. But I am not sure if the old version had that in mind - which was not a fault in itself because the novel didn't give much space on it either, but shows nevertheless how the time has changed in less than 30 years. The recent producers have wanted audience to identify with Elinor in her love and affection of Edward, while in the 1981 version, it didn't seem to be a concern to the producer. In comparison, this is the only one in which Edward's sister was played by an actress who didn't have a face to match her selfishness.
July 08, 2009
Update
I watched two black and white films about Second World War recently, one from Hungary, My Way Home (1965?); the other from Japan, Fire on the Plain (1959). Both depicted an attempt to return home of a soldier on the losing side at the end of the war, and in both cases, with sparse dialogues. What strikes me the most though was the landscape in them. Though in stark contrast with each other in terms of the tone and mood, they loomed large in the story as if they were doing the actual talking which were deprived of the skinny young soldiers.
I liked My Way Home in particular which remained me a lot of the Russian novels and films that I came across in school days. The way it related the 'natural' bond and growing friendship between two soldiers on the opposite sides of the war was subtle, effective and convincing. The way the character was portrayed reminded me of a Chinese film made in 1983 by the young Zhang Jundao, a 'Fifth Generation' director, called One and Eight. When One and Eight, shot by the budding cinematographer-turned-director Zhang Yimou, was on television, I had no patience for its slow pace and apparent lack of action, and struggled to understand its critical appeal. And now when I was watching two subtle films of similar subject and style, I seemed to be able to appreciate that Chinese film a little bit better.
Another film that left strong impact on me was Funny Games (1996, the original one). It started like an average film on a middle-class family, but two minutes after the credit sequence, the suspense was already built up and I found myself wanting to switch off the DVD because all seemed rather incredibly crazy. The first half an hour was possibly one of the best suspense/horror film I had ever watched, but after the boy returned to the house following a failed attempt to kill off their torturer, the film seemed to be repeating itself and offered nothing new any more. I finished watching it nevertheless because, as usual, I was also hoping that there would be a twist somewhere. Unable to understand the point of such a film, I turned to the interview in the special feature and found the director was aiming to tell a story about young people from well-to-do background who committed crime just for the sake of it. But if that was the case, then the film was obviously not too keen to make this explicit and had also lost a great opportunity to explore the social and psychological aspects of such criminals.
As to Buffalo Boy, it remained me of a lot of similiar films made in the 1990s in China following the international success of Zhang Yimou's Judo and Raise the Red Lantern. The cinematography was amazingly beautiful, but somehow, the film seemed too eager to conform to a steretypical image of a Vietnam of coloniel times.
I liked My Way Home in particular which remained me a lot of the Russian novels and films that I came across in school days. The way it related the 'natural' bond and growing friendship between two soldiers on the opposite sides of the war was subtle, effective and convincing. The way the character was portrayed reminded me of a Chinese film made in 1983 by the young Zhang Jundao, a 'Fifth Generation' director, called One and Eight. When One and Eight, shot by the budding cinematographer-turned-director Zhang Yimou, was on television, I had no patience for its slow pace and apparent lack of action, and struggled to understand its critical appeal. And now when I was watching two subtle films of similar subject and style, I seemed to be able to appreciate that Chinese film a little bit better.
Another film that left strong impact on me was Funny Games (1996, the original one). It started like an average film on a middle-class family, but two minutes after the credit sequence, the suspense was already built up and I found myself wanting to switch off the DVD because all seemed rather incredibly crazy. The first half an hour was possibly one of the best suspense/horror film I had ever watched, but after the boy returned to the house following a failed attempt to kill off their torturer, the film seemed to be repeating itself and offered nothing new any more. I finished watching it nevertheless because, as usual, I was also hoping that there would be a twist somewhere. Unable to understand the point of such a film, I turned to the interview in the special feature and found the director was aiming to tell a story about young people from well-to-do background who committed crime just for the sake of it. But if that was the case, then the film was obviously not too keen to make this explicit and had also lost a great opportunity to explore the social and psychological aspects of such criminals.
As to Buffalo Boy, it remained me of a lot of similiar films made in the 1990s in China following the international success of Zhang Yimou's Judo and Raise the Red Lantern. The cinematography was amazingly beautiful, but somehow, the film seemed too eager to conform to a steretypical image of a Vietnam of coloniel times.
June 18, 2009
The clock
I have watched one film by Liza Minnelli (Cabaret), but none by her parents, Judy Garland and Vincente Minnilli, that is, until yesterday. The Clock was the first film Judy Garland did not sing in and I was happily surprised by its quality and her rather subtle and mature acting.
The Clock interests me mostly though for its 'noises', what was put in 'outside' the main story, namely that of New York city and the people in the street. Joe (played by the young Robert Walker) the soldier was a stranger in the big apple and he was lost there in his 48 hours' leave. In his chance encounters with various people in the street, decent allocation of time was given on the passing individuals who had no consequence on the main events. One of such passersby was a milkman who was on his way for his night shift and offered them a lift and through him, a glimpse of the sleeping city, including a virtuosos performance of a drunkard. Another was a chef in a restaurant after the 'ugly' wedding of the protagonists. He picked a table right next to theirs and during the whole course, he was framed right in the middle of the screen between the two protagonists, rendering his facial expression - that of curious, disdaining and puzzling - the central backdrop of the whole scenario. Such distracting 'noises' added casual but rich and interesting texture to the film, contributing to making the film organic.
Having seen Robert Walker only in Strangers on the Train, I had tried very hard to discern if there was any trace of that character in The Clock and I have to report that yes, but only if you tried very hard - at which point it was questionable if it was induced more by my imagination. I had no answer to that but very sad to read that by The Clock, he had already turned into an alcoholic triggered by the disintegration of his marriage to a Jones, who would become the leading lady of Hollywood for nearly a decade despite her moderate talents.
I am not completely sure now if the fleeting sadness and melancholy on his face was due to his real life event or the character.
The Clock interests me mostly though for its 'noises', what was put in 'outside' the main story, namely that of New York city and the people in the street. Joe (played by the young Robert Walker) the soldier was a stranger in the big apple and he was lost there in his 48 hours' leave. In his chance encounters with various people in the street, decent allocation of time was given on the passing individuals who had no consequence on the main events. One of such passersby was a milkman who was on his way for his night shift and offered them a lift and through him, a glimpse of the sleeping city, including a virtuosos performance of a drunkard. Another was a chef in a restaurant after the 'ugly' wedding of the protagonists. He picked a table right next to theirs and during the whole course, he was framed right in the middle of the screen between the two protagonists, rendering his facial expression - that of curious, disdaining and puzzling - the central backdrop of the whole scenario. Such distracting 'noises' added casual but rich and interesting texture to the film, contributing to making the film organic.
Having seen Robert Walker only in Strangers on the Train, I had tried very hard to discern if there was any trace of that character in The Clock and I have to report that yes, but only if you tried very hard - at which point it was questionable if it was induced more by my imagination. I had no answer to that but very sad to read that by The Clock, he had already turned into an alcoholic triggered by the disintegration of his marriage to a Jones, who would become the leading lady of Hollywood for nearly a decade despite her moderate talents.
I am not completely sure now if the fleeting sadness and melancholy on his face was due to his real life event or the character.
June 17, 2009
Les Cinema de Michel Legrand
I had wanted something light, easy but outstanding last Sunday when I went about my Sunday routine and I found myself reaching the shelf for the 4-CD album Les Cinema de Michel Legrand. It did the trick instantly and for the next four hours or so I was embraced by some of the greatest soundtracks which filled the room with sweet nostagia on a lazy sunny day.
Although I had listened to this album with the booklet in my hand for more than once, for many a moments I still had the urge to check out what was actually being played, or to be exact, which film it was on. The soundtracks were all scored in a short spin of just four years, 1959 to 1963, for a staggering 72 films, and at times, they did sound rather similar to each other, especially those in CD 1 to 3. But this is more a test to my memory and a downside of listening to them all in one go rather than their individual quality.
It was a weird experience when, on one hand, you seemed to know every twist of the score by heart, but on the other, you barely knew anything about the film for which the score was written. And sometimes this could even lead to disappointment. Summer of '42 is a case in point. For years this could easily be one of my favourite tunes, so imagine my excitement when I found the film and the sheer disappointment afterwards!
Luckily though it was not always just disappointment. Coincidentally for instance, I found The Umbrellas of Cherbourg in the library last Saturday and when I put it on the DVD player two days later - it felt as if I was reuniting with some childhood friends when the theme song was coming out from the mouths of the protagonists. Because that was also the first time I understood what the lyrics were about, it felt rather strange as if I had been kept from a heartbroken secret of the dear friend from childhood! It was not a feeling of being cheated but it was certainly a pure magic that we could embrace something without knowing its context or meaning.
I always thought that I have a 'natural' dislike of the genre musical, but I really liked the lighthearted The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, and think the whole film was done beautifully, from the performance, characterisation, use of bright colours, to its simple (deliberately kept?) uncomplicated story, and of course, to its music. Though it was part of a trilogy, I like it better than its predecessor Lola, which was referred to by a character, probably because of the leading actress was more convincing, 'natural' and lovable in the Umbrellas.
It is amazing that such a simple story could work so well and unpretentious on screen. And I believe this has a lot to do with the magic touch French directors are capable of.
Although I had listened to this album with the booklet in my hand for more than once, for many a moments I still had the urge to check out what was actually being played, or to be exact, which film it was on. The soundtracks were all scored in a short spin of just four years, 1959 to 1963, for a staggering 72 films, and at times, they did sound rather similar to each other, especially those in CD 1 to 3. But this is more a test to my memory and a downside of listening to them all in one go rather than their individual quality.
It was a weird experience when, on one hand, you seemed to know every twist of the score by heart, but on the other, you barely knew anything about the film for which the score was written. And sometimes this could even lead to disappointment. Summer of '42 is a case in point. For years this could easily be one of my favourite tunes, so imagine my excitement when I found the film and the sheer disappointment afterwards!
Luckily though it was not always just disappointment. Coincidentally for instance, I found The Umbrellas of Cherbourg in the library last Saturday and when I put it on the DVD player two days later - it felt as if I was reuniting with some childhood friends when the theme song was coming out from the mouths of the protagonists. Because that was also the first time I understood what the lyrics were about, it felt rather strange as if I had been kept from a heartbroken secret of the dear friend from childhood! It was not a feeling of being cheated but it was certainly a pure magic that we could embrace something without knowing its context or meaning.
I always thought that I have a 'natural' dislike of the genre musical, but I really liked the lighthearted The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, and think the whole film was done beautifully, from the performance, characterisation, use of bright colours, to its simple (deliberately kept?) uncomplicated story, and of course, to its music. Though it was part of a trilogy, I like it better than its predecessor Lola, which was referred to by a character, probably because of the leading actress was more convincing, 'natural' and lovable in the Umbrellas.
It is amazing that such a simple story could work so well and unpretentious on screen. And I believe this has a lot to do with the magic touch French directors are capable of.
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