…time to start strategizing for that annual test of taste, that carnival of consumerism, Holiday gift shopping.

source: Amazon.co.uk

Happily,  Jolyon Fenwick and Marcus Husselby have ridden to the rescue with a guide to the perfect gift for those one one’s list for whom it’s not the thought that counts:  Einstein’s Watch: Being an Unofficial Record of a Year’s Most Ownable Things…

From the publisher’s description:

What is the value of Gandhi’s glasses or a collection of Braille editions of Playboy? And how much is an artwork consisting of ten million $100 banknotes worth? In this gloriously eclectic overview of 2009’s most ownable objects, Jolyon Fenwick and Marcus Husselby present a treasure trove of over 100 desirable things bought or offered for sale this year. Ranging from the sublime to the ridiculous, the cache of curios includes: a hard disk of MPs’ expenses over the last five years; Einstein’s watch; Uncle Monty’s cottage from Withnail and I; the last ever cheque issued by Woolworths (it bounced); a holy water sprinkler (made by Parker pens); official posters from the Obama campaign; Captain Cook’s boomerang; Super Lemon Haze marijuana; Black Canary Barbie (described as ‘filth’ by Christian Voice [pictured on the book's cover]); and, the key to the binoculars storeroom on board the Titanic.

source: Designs Through Process

As we scrawl “Dear Santa,” we might note that today’s a great day to March right down the Middle, in honor of Victorian novelist, poet, and translator George Eliot– Mary Ann Evans– who was born on this date in 1819 in Warwickshire.

George Eliot

So, I caught a free screening of Pirate Radio last night (today is its opening day in the states). I don’t want to dishearten Richard Curtis fans who treasure Four Weddings and a Funeral and Love Actually (neither of which I’ve seen), but he dropped a big bloody bollock with this movie (known as The Boat That Rocked in the UK).

How can that be, you ask? It’s about a British pirate radio station during the mid-1960s. Its soundtrack boasts choice cuts from the British Invasion. And it’s got a charming cast. How can a movie be bad when it has Philip Seymour Hoffman and Bill Nighy and Nick Frost and Rhys Ifans and Rhys Darby and cast members from The IT Crowd, along with cameos from Emma Thompson and January Jones? Kenneth Branagh even goes all campy villain on us as the station’s bureaucratic nemesis (see also Wild Wild West, a terrible movie where he chews some scenery as the bad guy). That sounds great on paper. Even if it’s saddled with boomer era clichés about free love and rock music changing the world, it’s gotta be fun, right? Who doesn’t want to run a pirate radio station on a boat with these folks?

There’s so much wrong with this hack job of a movie. There’s a lot left unexplained. How did this ragtag group get a boat? Why is rock music illegal to broadcast in 1960s Great Britain? How are these radio personalities so famous? There’s also lots of truncated plot points and weird tonal shifts and nonsensical character motivations which I don’t think would have been aided by the original cut’s three-hour running time. The protagonist is a bloke named Carl (played by Tom Sturridge) who may or may not have been put on the boat by his mother to meet his dad, but I’m too bored to care. And that’s saying something, as his dad is played by Ralph Brown, who was Danny the Dealer in Withnail and I.

I’d also mention that it’s kinda disheartening to see Hoffman — who plays a crusty American deejay named the Count — spout rockist catchphrases like “a whop bam boo” and “young men and young women will always dream dreams and put those dreams into song” with stealy-eyed import. But it’s also kinda amazing. A lesser actor couldn’t pull it off. But Hoffman makes Count’s turn of phrase sound like some kind of rock deejay John McClane. Oh, and he almost drowns when the boat sinks. Except he doesn’t and emerges victoriously (and ridiculously) from the North Sea. Such is the power of rock. 

But I think you know what my big problem is. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the roles for women and girls are marginal and insultingly one-dimensional. While I think there may have been an effort to keep their presence ornmanental so as to make a commentary on the era’s regressive attitude toward gender and sexual politics, I think the movie exacerbates the problem rather than rectify it.

There are groovy birds (re: prostitutes, groupies, and moms) who board the ship to “service” the talent, sometimes pretending to love one crew member to get closer to another and wounding their pride. Awesome. 

There’s one woman in the crew — a lesbian named Felicity (played by Katherine Parkinson) who basically serves as the ship’s put-upon housewife. She does get a girlfriend, but this is given for too obvious, peripheral treatment to seem as real progress.

There are no musicians, except for women like Dusty Springfield, Skeeter Davis, and Sandy Shaw who function as playlist selections.

There are also huddles of simpering female fans who listen attentively to the radio — students, flight attendants, secretaries, cleaning ladies, mothers, wives, single women, waitresses, and shopgirls. None of them speak, though many giggle. They also lack names. Oh, correction. Kenneth Branaugh’s secretary Miss C (played by Sinead Matthews) sort of gets one.

Anyway, this sucks, and a likeable cast can’t salvage its suckitude. So I suggest instead of seeing this movie that you watch Jane Campion’s A Girl’s Own Story instead. Here’s a scene. Wish I could post the whole thing.

Made in 1984 and available on the Criterion Collection edition of Campion’s debut feature, Sweetie, this short focuses on a group of Australian schoolgirls who came of age during Beatlemania. It showcases the complex relationships girls have with their fandom, along with their homosocial friendships and burgeoning sexuality. It’s pretty awesome, and actually suggests what it may have been like to be a teenaged girl during rock’s golden era. Pirate Radio couldn’t be bothered.

When I was working as a tour guide I learnt, on one of my many visits to China, that there is an ancient Chinese greeting which is still in use today in sophisticated and affluent cities such as Shanghai. The greeting is ‘Have you eaten?’ It is a figure of speech and not to be taken as a literal question, but the implication is that of concern for the other person’s state of health and well-being. Spain is a country steeped in tradition, one far more adept at keeping its old customs alive than our culture, where we mostly recoil in excruciating embarassment from such monstrosities as Morris Dancing and cheese rolling. In Spain they are proud of and not the least bit embarassed by tradition. Now it seems Spain is ready to embrace even traditions from other cultures, such as this ancient greeting from China. Of course, the wording has changed slightly but the sentiment is the same. And the greeting now comes from the guest, not from the host. The greeting, updated to our modern times of crisis, is ‘Er, got any food?….’

Turning up at friends’ houses for mid-morning coffee or late night sessions, we can be seen wandering noncholantly into the kitchen like Danny the Dealer from Withnail and I and asking casually ‘Er, got any food?’ Ok, we’re unlikely to be handed a moist saveloy which we then sniff and ask ‘yeah,, all right, how much do you want for it?’ but believe me, in these time of crisis the scenario is not that far off. ‘Got any food?’ is a polite way of saying, between friends ‘ Look, I haven’t eaten for a day or two, I have no money at all and I’m really, really hungry. Hungry enough to ask…’

Currently off sick with the gammy foot and unable to walk, I am relying for food on the Incredible Ponce, who brings me a menu del dia almost every day from the bar/restaurant where he works. This makes me feel like a granny waiting for her meels on wheels, and at the same time like a baby bird cared for and protected by its mother, but the important thing is, I am being fed, and sumptuously, at the moment. Often we eat together – he turns up after work most nights, and like an urban fox, starts scavenging in the fridge and cupboards. Some days have been, shall we say, frugal over the past few weeks, and we have been known to sit like secret bulimics at three in the morning ravenously scoffing bowls of muesli, becasue that’s all there is.

Last Sunday a couple of friends came round to keep an old cripple company, and as we sat and drank coffee I could see them eyeing my fruit bowl. Finally, one of them said wistfully ‘Oh, you’ve got fruit….’ Fruit was quickly distributed. Later, while making me a cup of tea, one of them said ‘Oooh, greek yoghurts, my favourite….’ Greek yoghurts were promptly distributed. It turns out they were waiting for payday and had no food at home. The planned menu du jour was a rice, potato and stock stew. At this point it was time to hand over the saveloy. No friend of mine goes hungry if I can help it. We reached a perfect solution- one of them who is Italian American, raided my cupboards and cooked a great pasta dish for us all. As they left, they asked for a loo roll, so were sent home with 2 loo rolls, a handfull of cigarettes and a full stomach at least. The deal cuts both ways, I am no Lady Bountiful, and only a couple of weeks ago was at their house one Saturday night desperately hungry and asking for food. I was fed American cereals, a great sugar-boost, and on another occasion, sausage brought back from a recent trip to Italy.

Consequently, I am heading a campaign to choose an apt slogan for the Crisis. I think ‘Er, got any food?’ sums it up perfectly. Like Shirley Bassey, I try always to ’see things from a different angle’ and to me, this is one of the many blessings of this economic shit-storm: a return to good, old fashioned community values like sharing resources, helping out friends in need, and cutting through the bullshit that everything’s fine and dandy. Far more healthy to admit we’re all screwed and we’re all in this together.

I love this movie. It’s hilarious & sad & smart, and if you haven’t seen it, you should. Here are some film stills and photos from the making of the movie. Happy rainy Sunday! xo, m

Photos from The Guardian.

Withnail, I ... and Uncle Monty too. Paul McGann, Richard Griffiths and Richard E Grant take some air in Chelsea, during a brief break in production

Ringo Starr joins McGann and writer-director Bruce Robinson on the set in Notting Hill. The film was produced by HandMade Films, the brainchild of former Beatle George Harrison

Grant, Robinson and McGann inside Crow Crag (aka Uncle Monty's cottage).

Two go mad in Cumbria: McGann and Grant outside Sleddale Hall.

“What a piece of work is a man! How noble in reason! How infinite in faculties! How like an angel in apprehension. How like a god! The beauty of the world! The paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me: no, nor women neither. Nor women neither.”

And so we return to the business of listing the ten funniest films of all time, as voted for by a distinguished panel of expert….me. They’re all chosen by me. So, stomach in, trousers down and lets get to the custard pies and loose flying bras we all find so damned hilarious. Did Morecambe and Wise die in The Intelligence Men for nothing? Only time will tell…(yes)

7. Withnail and I (Bruce Robinson, 1986)

“What FUCKER said that?”

As obvious as Sgt Pepper or Ian Huntley, Withnail and I nonetheless deserves its feted status as a cult classic by virtue of the fact that that as well as being hugely (and in some people’s cases, tragically) quotable its also an incredibly funny film with exceptionally strong performances by the famously tee-total Richard E Grant, Paul McGann as “I” (the unnamed Marwood) and Richard Griffiths as the filthy, ever bum-hungry Uncle Monty.

“You can stuff it up your arse for nothing and fuck off while you’re doing it!”

Stripped of its drinking games and student reciting, there’s a very sweet tale of friendship in between the Camberwell carrots and finest wines known to humanity. For me, I picked it up in one of HMV or Virgin’s offers when I was going through a phase of buying “essential” movies I felt I needed to watch. A few years later, it was the favourite film of my first proper girlfriend which became one of the founding points of our relationship.

“…I have a heart condition, if you hit me its murder.”

Drugs are inherently unfunny to me, but for some reason the film bypasses this by not really glamorising them, to the point that Withnail’s final scene fills you with a sense of true pity and raw humanity that few out and out comedies would ever have the bollocks to put onscreen.

6. This Is Spinal Tap (Rob Reiner, 1984)

Do I honestly need to say why Tap is funny when so many people have fallen over themselves to do so in the past 25 years? Probably not but I will say that the first time I saw it was almost by error thanks to those 2 films on one video releases they used to do in which it was partnered with another still very fond comedy favourite of mine “Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure”.

I had the tape for a good few months before I decided to give it a go and almost immediately watched it again. In fact, I was so inspired by it that I made my GCSE Media Studies project an almost direct rip-off (read: homage unless you’re Ricky Gervais then please die) the year after.

Don’t hate it for the dross it ended up eventually inspiring or the slightly depressing revival this year spearheaded by every tiresome British comedian in the country. Just think of Puppet Show, “Shit Sandwich”, Lick My Love Pump, “kick my ass”, All The Way Home, “18 inches” and the sublimely matched music pastiches. You know what I want, you know what I need. Or maybe you don’t. Do I have to come right flat out and tell you everything…?

5. Mallrats (Kevin Smith, 1995)

After a couple of obvious choices, one that doesn’t crop up so much in the AFI’s lists so much. And more fool them say I, for as crude and blatant as this film can be, it is just as much a tale of friendship and love as Casablanca or The Shawshank Redemption. Mallrats just happens to have more nude boobs, comic book geekery and filthy anecdotes about wanking on aeroplanes under its belt.

As a follow up to the much more beloved Clerks, Mallrats was described as a textbook example of what not do as a second picture. Fuck those people, say I. Indeed, I actually saw Mallrats before any of Kevin Smith’s other films on a late night BBC2 airing and loved it from the get go, particularly the strong core group of friends in the centre played by a long pre-Earl Jason Lee as the foul-mouthed Brodie Bruce with Shannon Doherty, Joey Lauren Adams, Michael Rooker, Renee Humphrey and Ben Affleck in core support, the latter of which playing an unspeakably oily salesman who likes to screw women in an extremely uncomfortable place. And I don’t mean in the back of a Volkswagen.

Critically poisonous but incredibly good fun all the same. Why not give it a go? You might just find yourself enjoying it. DO IT DOUG!

4. Kids In The Hall: Brain Candy (Kelly Makin, 1996)

Probably better known in this country than the five seasons of sketch comedy that preceded it, Brain Candy was the result of a torturous making process in which the troupe pissed the distributors off so much (in thanks mostly to the appearance of incredibly upbeat series character Cancer Boy) that they buried it upon release, making it a cult classic that deserves a much wider audience.

The plot concerns a new wonder drug for depression which is rushed onto the market without testing and makes its creator Dr Chris Cooper (the always superb Kevin McDonald) a household name but has the unfortunate side-effect of putting its users into living comas. The rest of the Kids crop up in a variety of character roles although a completely excised subplot involving Dave Foley as a radical activist was dropped at the last minute, leaving his contributions somewhat less than the others as a result and ultimately leading to the bad blood that saw the team break up.

Much more coherent as a proper film that any sketch troupe movie has the right to be and even comes with a bunch of great comedy songs to boot including the very Nine Inch Nails sounding “Some Days Its Dark”, “Happiness Pie” and all-out musical extravaganza “I’m Gay”.

And how can you not love a film with the following bit of back and forth: “Kids, where’s your Father?” / “He’s upstairs masturbating to gay porn” / “Again…!?!?”

Tomorrow, the top three which come from 1975, 1979 and 1986. That’s right. Its Jaws, Jaws II and Jaws The Revenge. Well they made me laugh anyway…

This Sunday 18th October, the Cornerhouse in Manchester will be screening one of the best British cult classics from the 1980’s. Withnail and I (Cert 15) stars Richard E. Grant, Paul McGann, Richard Griffiths & Ralph Brown.

The film tells the story of two actors: Withnail, played by Richard E. Grant in his breakout performance and “I” portrayed by Paul McGann. Both of them drown their frustrations & sorrows with alcohol and drugs but upon hearing that Withnail’s Uncle Monty (Richard Griffiths) has offered them his cottage, they escape there for some form of hopeful splendor. Not all is as easy as planned as constant rain and a lack of food may prove that Withnail and his trusty companion don’t have what it takes to survive in the English Countryside.

Empire Magazine calls Withnail and I “Incredibly Funny – *****”

The screening takes place at Midday this Sunday. Tickets can be purchased here online or from the Cornerhouse Box Office.

Tittel: «Withnail and I» (Imdb) (Wikipedia) (Wikiquote)
År: 1987
Spilletid: 107 minutter

Det fine med denne filmen er minst syv ting: 1) Det er verdens beste film. Ever! Fact! 2) Det er verdens tristeste film. 3) Det er verdens morsomste film. 4) Det er den filmen med den beste begynnelsen. 5) Den er den filmen med den beste slutten. 6) Det er den filmen med det beste som befinner seg inne i filmen mellom slutten og begynnelsen, også kjent som «handlingen». 7) Den har noen av filmhistoriens beste sitater.

Stedet er London i og året er 1969: To arbeidsledige teaterskuespillere er i ferd med å gå på snørra i en saus av alkohol, alt for store jointer og et nitrist klaustrofobisk byliv som er alt annet enn swinging – i alle fall ikke for dem.

Withnail og Jeg-personen (altså «I» i filmen) bestemmer seg derfor for å søke lykken på landet – en enkel løsning som skal vise seg å bli mer komplisert enn de hadde regnet med. Våre helter støter nemlig på egenrådige landsbybeboere, olme dyr, homofile onkler og ikke minst seg selv i døra opptil flere ganger.

Filmen har et eventyrlig karaktergalleri og er spekket med sitatvennlige replikkvekslinger som fordeler seg jevnt over hele filmen. Dette til sammen har gjort «Withnail and I» til en ekte kultklassiker – dette er filmen folk gjerne ser minst femten ganger og lærer seg utenat. For eksempel godbiter som denne:

Withnail: I’ve some extremely distressing news.
Marwood: I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear anything! Oh God, it’s a nightmare, I tell you, it’s a nightmare.
Withnail: We just ran out of wine. What are we gonna do about it?
Marwood: I don’t know, I don’t know. Oh God, I don’t feel good. Look, my thumbs have gone weird! I’m in the middle of a bloody overdose. Oh God. My heart’s beating like a fucked clock! I feel dreadful, I feel really dreadful!
Withnail: So do I, so does everybody. Look at my tongue; it’s wearing a yellow sock. Sit down for Christ’s sake, what’s the matter with you? Eat some sugar.

Sjekk utlånsstatus og reserver denne dvd’en på drammensbiblioteket.no

Ekstra 1: Nyhetssak fra The Guardian om salget av huset der mye av handlingen foregår.
Ekstra 2: Se, vi har til og med kjøpt filmmusikken!
Ekstra 3: Trailer:

“Turned out nice again” – The catch phrase of a certain George Formby (not to be confused with George Foreman of boxing and lean grilling machine fame). Ah, such optimism from Ealing Studios, and indeed the Met Office, for this is the “barbecue summer”.

The Summer of George?

With our nation’s propensity toward chest puffing, the grandiose predictions for our summers are becoming more and more bizarre. I am becoming a bit of a “weather bore”, every April I inform my friends and family of how it will all pan out, getting my predictions in before the Met Office makes its grand claim. A few years back, there was even speculation that the British grass lawn would become a thing of the past. Our summers were going to be so severe, even humble and hardy grass would not survive its searing temperatures. We were advised to plant more Mediterranean style and even consider growing orange and lemon groves. The British public lapped it up with a spoon; it did cause quite a stir in Scotland. However, I have never been able to square these predictions off, knowing a little about global warming and the Gulf Stream effect; I could never see the logic. It is little understood that as the planet warms, Britain in fact, could become cooler. I won’t go it to that now… Chief Meteorologist, Ewen McCallum, said the wet summers of 2007 and 2008 were highly unlikely to be repeated. He predicted: “This year will be much drier than normal. Get the BBQ out.”

Needless to say, whenever the Met Office forecasts a barbecue summer, you should be rushing to build yourselves large boats – especially if your name happens to be Noah.

Mr McCallum said at the time “After two disappointingly wet summers, the signs are much more promising this year. We can expect times when temperatures will be above 30C, something we hardly saw at all last year.”

And the animals came…two by two

“Have you packed the barbecue?”

I’m not going to get into a theological debate, but this “two by two” notion is a little far fetched, don’t you think? The pairing of animals, one from each gender, to enable each species to procreate and survive the catastrophe, is puzzling on some levels. For instance, what of a pair of ants? Or even a pair of termites? As you are aware, the standard blueprints of these little chaps have no reproductive organs. Banish two ants to the wilderness, away from the colony, and all you will produce is two dead ants.

Listen to this: “I took drugs to win medals” says top athlete Geoff Woad. Shot-putter Woad admits to taking massive doses of steroids – drugs banned in sport – to improve his performance. “He used to act up and pick on me” says his wife, “but now he’s stopped he’s much better, in our sex life and in our general life.” Look at him! Look at Geoff Woad! Jesus, this huge, thatched head, with its earlobes and cannon ball is now considered sane! Geoff Woad is prepared to step back into society and start tossing his orb about again! His head must weigh fifty pounds on its own! Imagine the size of his balls… imagine getting into a fight with the fucker! “I’m going to pull your head off.” “Oh no, please don’t pull my head off.” “I’m going to pull your head off, because I don’t like your head.”

Sadly, Geoff Woad does not appear to exist. However, aficionados of the classic “Withnail and I” will have just had a treat. Those lines were sublimely delivered by a young Richard E Grant with the precision and finesse of pure genius.

Geoff Capes, on the other hand, does exist. One can only assume that he was the template for this fictitious character in the film. Geoff Capes, former professional shot-putter and Britain’s Strongest Man – He went into business with a shop called Geoff’s Capes, which sold only capes. It soon closed. You couldn’t make this stuff up.

“I’m not sick, but I’m not well”

That ex Etonian dandy, Mr David Cameron, made me smile the other day. When Absolute Radio host Christian O’Connell asked him about his views on Twitter, the Tory leader said: “The trouble with Twitter, the instantness of it – too many twits might make a twat.” He had obviously spent some time thinking about some witticism in response to any questions he may ever be asked about Twitter.

I’m no expert, but I do know there is no such word as “instantness” and I do know the meaning of the word “twat”, but then again, I schooled at the other place – And the only reason I am allowing the word to go uncensored on my weblog is that I strongly suspect most moderators do not.

Incidentally, “twat” is from an ancient Viking word and is a vulgar synonym for vagina. It is an extremely offensive word in some quarters of society and totally misunderstood by others, perhaps for its similarity in sound to the innocuous “twit”.

Cameron compounded matters when he said “people were pissed off – sorry, I can’t say that in the morning – angry with politicians“, seemingly more critical of himself for saying the less offensive word.

Cameron’s aides pointed out that “twat” is not a swear word under radio guidelines and said he had apologised immediately for his latter comment.

Attempting to play down the incident, he added: “I was doing a radio interview and I’m sure that people will understand that.” Twat!

I understand that in a preamble to the interview by O’Connell in which he said Cameron’s press secretary, Gabby Bertin, “leapt out of her skin” after the questionable language.

In the exchange between Cameron and Bertin after the interview, Cameron said: “That seemed to go OK” to which Bertin replied “Yeah, apart from the language”. Cameron added “Oh, yeah, pissed, sorry about that, I’m really sorry”… “But” he said “people are pissed off with politicians, which they are. I think that is choice language well used personally, from my point of view”.

Bertin responded to Cameron “No, it was the twat”. David then insisted that it was not a swear word. She went on “It is”.

She privately added “I think he must be posh, where a lot of them don’t think twat is a swear word”.

Cameron on Twatter

That’s right you crazy kids, Kayla’s back and has been for the past three days but severe laziness mixed with Sims 3 kept me away from Outta the Burg. I have nothing facinating or profound to say as of now but I’m sure when it comes to me, I will blog it.
Maybe some of you would enjoy a movie time with Kayla. No, not those types of movies, but instead a legal hilarity which I resently enjoyed thanks to my lovely uncle. The movie is titled Withnail and I, a tale of two starving, miserable, out of work, actors who partake on an unforgetable car trip to a hidden cottage. It’s a funny film, I say. If you like uncles of questionable natures, chickens shoved in teapots, and pompous stoners, this is the film for you. Did I mention it’s British? Then its the film for EVERYONE. Richard Griffiths, Richard E. Grant, and Paul McGann make the cast. Now, children, that’s enough of me rounding out everything. Go watch it. BECAUSE I SAID SO!

I was going to do them in order with Michael Mann after Marion Cotillard, but then I thought I would do the actors first and the director last.

With all dictaphones at the ready Johnny Depp walked into the room. Yep he is as cool in real life as you expect him to be. Waistcoat, glasses and just looked cool. Walking to the podium he stopped and looked at the poster of himself. “It is entirely too large!” he proclaimed. You can see it in the footage I took below, the photos are also by me. Always near was the white haired Jerry Judge – Depp’s long time assistant, minder and friend.

John Dillinger is an absolutely bona fide folk hero, but what was the draw of playing this outlaw whose name is virtually synonymous with the gun-slinging American past?

Well, first and foremost, when I was like 9 or 10 years old, I had a fascination with John Dillinger, I don’t know why – and probably not a healthy one. I think it was something about the twinkle in his eye; there was something mischievous that intrigued me. But, in terms of taking on the role, the idea that the guy was called Public Enemy Number 1, but, if you really think about it, was never an enemy of the public. That I found intriguing and challenging.

What is it about this character of John Dillinger that you think fascinated the public? And, famously, he died after watching Manhattan Melodrama, what would be the film you’d like to watch before you died?

I think, especially with a guy like John Dillinger, if you think about where we were in 1933 – well, it’s not unlike where we are now. The banks were sort of the enemies, and it was taking the knees out from under everyone. Displacement was a kind way of putting it – their lives were being ripped from them. And there’s JD, who arrives as one of those people who’ve been ten years in prison for some youthful, ignorant, drunken crime. Ten years, and he arrives on the scene in the ultimate existential arena, and says ‘I’m gonna stand up against these people’. So I think, for me, what’s fascinating is the guy who says ‘I’m not gonna take it’.[In reference to a short scene where JD sings the country standard The Last Roundup, after a jail break] First Sweeney Todd, and now this, it was almost as if you were looking to crowbar in some singing…

I almost broke into dance… I just might now!

Why not? Just wondering if you’ve been bitten by the singing bug?

I’ve only been bitten once, and it was an indirect bite. No, no, no. I sang the one time on Sweeney because, well, basically I had no choice.

But you sang well in this. I know it was only a few lines….

Oh, yeah! I do sing in the film – is it in? I haven’t seen it!

Any recording contracts come your way yet?

You know, some people better stay in their own little arena. [laughs]

How did you research for the role? Did you watch previous films about him?

I certainly had a strong memory of Warren Oates’ John Dillinger in the John Milius film [Dillinger, 1973]. But, I hadn’t seen it in years. I do remember there was a certain palate that was limited. And I thought there were more colours to be offered – without being too esoteric about it. If you think about the information that has come out since – some of Dillinger’s own words have surfaced. So there’s a bit more to the story, a little more dimension. And that was what I was hoping for, to add some of that.

Stephen Graham [Baby Face Nelson in Public Enemies] over here is our rising star – how did you two get on?

We hated each other, and we fought constantly. [assembled journos laugh] I think he’s magnificent, one of my favourite actors of all time. What he did in This is… [journos, in unison, 'England!'] England… absolutely destroyed me. What he did, and what Tomo did in that film of Shane Meadows’, took me to my knees. He’s someone I’m going to fight to get… I’m going to force him to be in every film I do – even at gunpoint!

You’ve mentioned you’ve not seen the film, and did a double-take at the poster as you came in – do you not like looking at yourself? And what’s it like now that you’re a big star?

If I can avoid the mirror when I brush my teeth in the morning, I will. I find security and safety in the most profound degree of ignorance. If you can just stay ignorant, almost everything will be ok. Just keep walking forward, and it’s ok to notice things, and look at things, but, to judge things will bog you down. So I don’t like watching myself in the movie, because I don’t like to be aware of the product, I like the process. I enjoy that. That [pointing at the oversized poster] is… not my fault. I didn’t do it!

In terms of your success, can you get your head around it? Did you think your time had come?

I went through 20 years of basically what the industry defined as failures. So for basically 20 years I was defined as box office poison. And I didn’t change anything in terms of my process. That little film Pirates Of The Caribbean came around, and I thought yeah, that would be fun to play a pirate for my kiddies, and all that stuff. And I created the character in the same way I created all the other characters, and… nearly got fired. And thank god they didn’t, because it changed my life. I’m hyper, super-thankful that radical turn happened, but it’s not like I went out of my way to make it happen.

You’ve played a lot of real-life figures in Blow, and Donnie Brasco, and now in Public Enemies, what attracts you to that? And, who do you want to play next?

Yeah… who would I like to play next. I don’t know, Carol Channing, maybe. I do like Carol Channing, very much! I mean, in the digital age… you can almost do anything. I could play a 12-year-old girl at this point – in the digital age!

But approaching someone like John Dillinger, as opposed to Jack Sparrow, is it as in-depth?

It is, it’s even potentially more so, because of the amount of responsibility you have, to that person who actually did exist. There’s some sense of responsibility to their legacy. With John Dillinger, there’s an enormous amount of information on the guy – we know where he was at 12:02, when the banks were robbed. But there’s a great gap with regard to who he was. There’s footage of him, there’s endless photographs of him – but there’s no audio. There’s just an attitude. So, that was the dig – how do I find this man, how do I find the way he speaks. And what made the connection for me was that John Dillinger was born in Indiana, and raised in Mooresville, Indiana, which was 2 hours from where I was born and raised. It was at that point that I thought – ah, I hear his voice now, now I know him, I know what he sounds like, because it’s not all that different. He was my grandfather, who drove a bus in the day, and ran moonshine at night. He was my step-father, who did time at Statesville Penitentiary. I knew his voice then.

Looking at you in this film, you don’t seem to have changed much over the years. Do you have any particular skin-care regime?

[Laughs] Clean living. Oh yeah, most definitely. I say if you could avoid wine, I’d do it. And liquor, definitely. Avoid liquor. Most definitely don’t smoke – anything. And stay in your room. And watch a bit of reality television, that’s how I do it.

Looking at the extraordinary range of characters that you’ve played so far. Which has been the closest to you personally, and which has been the furthest away?

Well, the furthest away – oh boy, probably a couple of them. But, furthest away… might be Willy Wonka [laughs]. Let’s hope that’s the furthest! Closest to me, this would be horrifically revealing, wouldn’t it? There’s probably three, Edward Scissorhands, John Wilmot from The Libertine, and maybe Dillinger.

There’s a great attention to detail in the film, in terms of shooting in real locations. How does that affect your performance, to know you’re in a location where Dillinger himself was?

That was one of the amazing things that Michael Mann provided us with, that level of authenticity, to be able to break through the exact doors that John Dillinger broke though. As opposed to shooting on some soundstage because it was cheaper or handier to the studio. Michael was a real stickler for that thing, and I will thank him forever for that. To be able to go and fire my Thompson out of the very window John Dillinger fired his Thompson out of during the gun battle at Little Bohemia. You can’t put a price on that thing. To be able to walk in the same footsteps as he took, to walk outside the Biograph theatre, and land exactly to the tiny millimetre where John Dillinger’s head fell, in the alley near the Biograph was magical. I mean, you almost feel him arriving. Not to be moony or spooky, but there were moments when I felt his presence, moments when I felt a certain amount of approval from the guy. When you’re going to that umpteenth detail, something’s going on.

How did you find working with Christian [Bale]? Are your acting styles quite different?

I don’t know if our acting styles are that different…

Christian tends to stay in character, and kept up the Southern accent between takes…

Oh, yeah, that kind of thing. Yeah, well I don’t do that. But, if you have to do that, that’s ok. I enjoyed our – basically – one scene together, besides when he and his cronies croaked me outside the Biograph [laughs]. Yeah, it was the scene in the jail cell, and I enjoyed it very much, it was like, how’d you describe it, like a great sparring match. Two guys in there with a similar respect for one another, trying to present different angles to each other. Obviously he’s a very gifted actor, and very talented. When we saw each other, which wasn’t very much, we talked about our kids, just talked about being dads. And that’s where we really connected.

Could you tell us about Michael Mann – how was his style of directing?

I think, ultimately, Michael’s style and my approach did complement each other. There are moments where, when you’re building something, there will be things discarded – things will get broken along the way. So it wasn’t right off the bat the easiest, but in the long run, what we were able to figure out together, was that, he presents something, he’d present something – we’d find a happy middle, and we’d get there. And we always got there. I have a tremendous amount of respect for Michael, as a human being but also as a filmmaker – he’s not joking, you know. He truly means it.

Then it was my turn to ask a question. The last one of Johnny’s press conference. Nervously I asked:

How difficult was it to let go of Dillinger once filming finished? And which character over your career has it been hardest to say goodbye to?

There’s been a few. The funny thing is, you really don’t say goodbye. There’s a little chest of drawers in here [points at chest], where you can always access these guys. I’m not sure if that’s healthy, but they’re there. Saying goodbye to Dillinger was tough, because it was like saying goodbye to a relative. The most difficult to say goodbye to? Well, Scissorhands was rough. The safety of allowing yourself to be that honest, to be that pure, to be that exposed. That was hard to say goodbye to. Wilmot, Lord Rochester, on The Libertine, was incredibly tough, because I felt like it was a very intense 40-something days where I had the opportunity to be that guy. And I felt a deep sense of responsibility, so it was like a marathon. And then, in the end, it was like the light goes out and it’s black.

There you have it. One of the biggest stars in the World today answered one of my questions and was looking straight at me when he did. Never thought it would happen to me, but an amazing experience. Depp was funny, charming and coolness personified.

UPDATE: Here is some more video from the press conference. You can briefly see the back of my head round about the 1:39 mark, oh and Johnny Depp is there as well.

Part 1: Marion Cotillard

Part 2: Johnny Depp

Part 3: Michael Mann

Public Enemies review

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By Cara Sulieman

ACTOR Richard E Grant returned to the scene of his directorial debut screening yesterday when he was spotted out and about in Edinburgh.

He was strolling around the city under cloudy skies yesterday looking as dapper as usual in a corduroy jacket and chinos.

The Whithnail and I star wasn’t scheduled to appear at any of the film festival events, and wouldn’t say why he was in the city.

But the actor is no stranger to Edinburgh – the world premiere of his directorial debut, ‘Wah-Wah’, was at the Film Festival in 2005.

Originally from Swaziland, he moved to the UK in 1982 to concentrate on his acting career, spending most of his time in theatre until the breakthrough cult hit of Withnail and I.

Since then he has starred in numerous movies, both in the UK and America, and written two books.

He wears two watches at all times – one of which belonged to his father and is always kept on Swaziland time.

The star was out spotted yesterday for a walk near the Balmoral Hotel in Edinburgh before ambling down Leith Street towards the Omni centre – which houses one of the city’s biggest cinemas.

Do you know what Richard was doing in Edinburgh? Drop me a line at cara@deadlinescotland.co.uk

I just wanted to write about the next film project that am undertaking as part of my University course. Basically, due to my lack of writing ability and my hatred of sitting down writing on my own (can you sense the irony), that I have took the initiative and decided to approach my 3rd Year film from an Improvisational route. Having begun to gather actors together, I want to develop my film and research through improvisation with my actors.

Mike Leigh, the theatre and film legend, uses improvisation to write his films and plays, and has been doing so since the 196os. From reading about him and his methods, I feel this is a great way to develop my films and get a realistic outlook to them. This leads me onto my new attachment with theatre, which has become a little bit of an obsession in recent weeks. I would like this film to become a play eventually, but with the uncertain nature of the beast, this may not be a possibility.

Anyway, I just wanted to write about that.

A very great friend of mine today was talking about sequels and mentioned Wayne’s World 2. Realizing that this would be yet again another opportunity to recommend one of my favorite comedies to him (which I know he hasn’t seen), I mentioned that Wayne’s World 2 contains many references to the wonderful British comedy, Withnail and I. I must say that this is not a ‘hilarious’ film from top to bottom and laugh-out-loud moments come gradually, but it is very subtle and dry, which I prefer. There are many great scenes: meeting Uncle Monty, the bar, Hamlet, going into Town and into the Tea Room, the scene with the Bull, asking the farmer for food, “I MUST HAVE SOME BOOZE”, etc… Every line is delivered impeccably and the dialogue is tremendously intelligent. Some will inevitably find it pejoratively slow, but that is because there is no place for it to get to. It is about two broke drunken failed actors in their mid-twenties in 1969 escaping London for the weekend to a wealthy relative’s country home. They interact with neighbors, farmers, and eventually the wealthy homosexual uncle himself when he makes a surprise visit and develops a crush on “I” (“I” is unnamed in the film) at the encouragement of Withnail.

I could have picked a dozen scenes to post, but I thought I’d post this one which shows their first night in the country trying to cook their first meal. Again, keep note of the subtleties of the dialogue:

George Harrison actually is a co-producer on this film.

While not everyone will love this film, everyone should attempt it. It grows funnier and funnier with each viewing, as I catch more and more of the dialogue.

Here is the original trailer:

this morning’s conversation in bed (picture, if you will, the two of us sitting up in bed drinking tea and coffee, conversing animatedly on whatever subjects float across the akasha of our mind)

Ah! Did you spot the Sanskrit word there?  “Akasha” means “space” and “chid-akasha” means “mind-space”.  But I digress.

The subject of today’s bed-tea-and-coffee-conversation was the word “mauve” and how nobody ever uses it any more (my mate Tony in Chester reckoned that only middle-aged ladies in Harrogate tea-shops ever used it.  I think he’d been reading too much Alan Bennett) and then Mark dredged up from the recesses of his memory the fact that “mauve” used to be a euphemism for “gay” (which in turn used to be a synonym for “happy” but let’s not go there.)  Then I dredged up (though with somewhat less effort) from my memory the line from “Withnail and I”:

-  He’s so mauve, we don’t know what he’s planning.

Check it out.  Great film.

Incidentally, “Withnail” is pronounced “With-nerll” with a schwa on the second vowel.  Which pretty much brings us back to where we were yesterday.

Watched the tennis.  Andy Murray through.

Today I am going to meet my new friend Claire and discover what kind of personality I have.

TTFN

PS I am reading John Peel’s autobiog, “Margrave of the Marshes” and in between bouts of affection and sadness that he’s dead, trying to analyse his highly individual writing style.

I have of late–but
wherefore I know not–lost all my mirth, forgone all
custom of exercises; and indeed it goes so heavily
with my disposition that this goodly frame, the
earth, seems to me a sterile promontory, this most
excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave
o’erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted
with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to
me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.
What piece of work is a man! how noble in reason!
how infinite in faculty! in form and moving how
express and admirable! in action how like an angel!
in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the
world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me,
what is this quintessence of dust? man delights not
me: no, nor woman neither…

As Uncle Monty would say, “It’s true, I cracked the boards in my youth, but I never really had it in my blood and that’s what’s so essential isn’t it? The theatrical zeal in the veins. Alas, I have little more than vintage wine and memories. It is the most shattering experience of a young man’s life when one morning he awakes and, quite reasonably, says to himself: ‘I will never play the Dane’!”

Perhaps this is what I get for naming the Black Heart Stout after such a volatile organ.  Have you ever seen an arterial spray of beer?  I have.  After a rather Withnail and I style afternoon, I find myself covered in the stout I brewed three weeks ago.  I taste and smell awesome!  If it survives my bottling antics, I have high hopes for the 43 bottles.  (I blame a dodgy stick filler for the mess.)

Luckily this time I took an OG reading.  (Every time I say OG I want to throw down my I M hand signs I’ve been working on.)  This baby is 5.08% ABV, which is right on.  I’m also happy to report that it tastes pretty darn good and has a nice full body, unlike the first beer I brewed solo which is tasty but kind of thin.  It still has that mineral tang. I’m just guessing that’s from the hard London water as well as perhaps being from the DME (according to my friend Bob that’s a common issue).  There is a faint hop character showing up here which makes me excited about perhaps brewing a hoppier stout.  The lovely, generous dudes at Brew Dog have sent me some hops– (Warrior, Chinook and some out-of-sight Nelson Sauvin which I will probably save for a single hop lighter ale maybe?) so the choice will be which one to add to the next stout.

The end-all is a have a f*ckton of beer.  Come on over.

(in about three weeks.)

I have of late been drifting into the arena of the unwell.

It’s the damn pollution; you might say the air hangs heavy as a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.

I’m off to get some cake, soak up the booze.

Last night I turned up to Word having misunderstood Lydia’s email (Lydia, oh Lydia, say have you met Lydia? She’s not tattooed but does sport a lovely head of red hair) did not realise that by virtue of taking the open mic I would be auditioning for something (doctor, doctor, I think I’m auditioning for something!) Once it was explained to me that I would have to do six workshops, be paid £200 and take part in an installation as part of the Special Olympics, I was raring to go – although in order for this to happen I have to be selected as one of the seven participants. I did three poems, Classified, Camp and November, all of which can be found on this blog. I realised after I’d chosen them that they all had the theme of death!

Cross fingers for me!

PS wondering about the title?  It’s a reference to the classic film, “Withnail and I” – the original line goes “Help!  We’ve come on holiday by mistake!”

8 1/2 (1963 Dir. Federico Fellini):

Withnail and I (1986 Dir. Bruce Robinson):

Previously on Criterion Collection:
Week 1: The Third Man / Breathless
Week 2: Videodrome / The Ice Storm
Week 3: Short Cuts / Pierrot Le Fou
Week 4: The 400 Blows / La Haine
Week 5: The Vanishing / Tokyo Story