The second time I've seen this film, and the first since I got into Aimee Mann (meaning that the first time I saw it must've been some time ago), that latter being the main reason for the rewatch (though if I'd twigged that this was a P.T. Anderson film - more recently of Punch-Drunk Love fame - I would've had another incentive). The previous time I watched it, I quite liked Magnolia, but I think that it wasn't too long after I'd seen Short Cuts and so was already a bit over the three hour long 'intersecting stories' thing...plus, that was in the time when I still sometimes watched films because I felt that I ought to rather than necessarily because I really wanted to, and I suspect that Magnolia may've fallen into the former category at the time.
Anyhow, it stands up well to a second watching. For a film of its length, it holds the attention impressively, no doubt aided by Anderson's technique of moving fairly rapidly from one story to another, keeping us interested in all of them. And there's a lot to it - framed by an overt focus on coincidence, fate and death, it covers a great deal else in between, dwelling particularly on the question of how the past always continues to reverberate in the present, and how its characters deal or fail to deal with this continuing facticity. It's the sort of film that would really lend itself to detailed excavation and exegesis, but while I liked Magnolia, I didn't respond strongly enough to want to go into it in that detail. Instead, a few scattered comments:
- Unquestionably, it packs a real emotional punch. Made me think about my own life, relationships, regrets (then made me think that I'm still far too young to be enjoying this kind of film, though possibly that's another story) and gave me chills at a couple of key moments (most notably Tom Cruise at his father's bedside and Julianne Moore fraying seemingly beyond repair at the drugstore).
- The music is important. One of the most moving scenes is that in which all of the major characters sing along to "Wise Up"; it's a beautiful, perfectly balanced song on its own, but in context in the film it carries even greater emotional freight.
- The ensemble cast is fantastic; nary a false note. Tom Cruise in particular v. good, in some measure because the character he plays is some kind of reflection of the all-American type with which he made his name (can't decide whether it's a distorted reflection or in fact the true figure that lies beneath the type).
- The jury's still out on the success of Anderson's 'cleverness' in pre-empting criticism of the somewhat coincidental/fabulistic nature of his narrative and film (eg, Philip Seymour Hoffmann telling the man on the telephone that they are in the moment in a film where the reconciliation between long-estranged father and son is effected, the motto in the piece of art and the young quiz kid avowing that 'these things do happen' in reference to the strange rain that falls at the end) but on balance I think I'm willing to give it to him.
- All in all, Magnolia really is rather good. I suspect that I'll return to it in years to come.
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Monday, January 30, 2006
Neko Case - Fox Confessor Brings The Flood
More excitement - the new Neko Case is out there! Got it today, and have had it on replay since while lying around and scrawling out a letter (my first handwritten letter in months) - a luxurious way to spend the afternoon, but in some ways a necessary one, too, for I definitely needed some alone time just about now. Anyway, that's by the by - regarding the album, the unsurprising news is that Fox Confessor Brings The Flood is smashingly good. I haven't got around to The Tigers Have Spoken yet, mostly because it's a live album (even though there's quite a lot of new material on it), but of course Blacklisted is, like, one of my favourite albums of all time (#20 according to that list I made a little while ago, and I'd probably bump it up a few spots were I to reorder the list today), so my expectations were high; colour me delighted that those expectations have basically been fully met by this new record.
Essentially, it's that same kind of haunted, evocative, nocturnal country-noir by way of classic torch chanteuses as well as traditional folk, with echoes of rootsy revivalists like Giant Sand and Calexico (members of whom again appear on the record) and modern alt-country, and all tied up by the glory that is Case's voice. But there is a bit of a progression from her last studio album apparent on Fox Confessor. For one, where Case's retro-styled cues were formerly taken mainly from the torch and soul side of things (most directly on Blacklisted, in covers of "Look For Me I'll Be Around" and "Runnin' Out Of Fools"), here there's a slight move towards the 60s 'pop' end of things (main evidence for this: "That Teenage Feeling" and "Lion's Jaws") - subtle, but it's there, not least in some of the upper register warbling. Also, I think that there's a bit more of an 'indie' streak running through the new album than on previous ones (obviously, y'know, in a Whiskeytown/The Execution of All Things/Laura Veirs/etc sort of way - not that her music sounds anything like either of those - rather than in a Sonic Youth or Pixies kinda fashion). Another change is that the music on this new album is a bit more multi-hued than on those of Case's previous records which I've listened to - there's more variety and a bit more playing around which is almost always effective and also helps to keep things interesting (again, it's only a relatively subtle change, but it's definitely there).
So far, my favourite song on Fox Confessor is "Hold On, Hold On", and I also particularly like "Margaret Vs Pauline", "Star Witness", "That Teenage Feeling" and "The Needle Has Landed", but I've hardly absorbed the album yet, so those picks are even more subject to change than usual. Plus, even outside of those songs, there are so many delicious moments when everything just comes together exactly right and picks you up before you've even realised what was happening ("John Saw That Number" is full of these unexpected pickups).
If you'll forgive a brief lapse into unbecoming juvenilia, dear reader: yay for Neko Case!
Essentially, it's that same kind of haunted, evocative, nocturnal country-noir by way of classic torch chanteuses as well as traditional folk, with echoes of rootsy revivalists like Giant Sand and Calexico (members of whom again appear on the record) and modern alt-country, and all tied up by the glory that is Case's voice. But there is a bit of a progression from her last studio album apparent on Fox Confessor. For one, where Case's retro-styled cues were formerly taken mainly from the torch and soul side of things (most directly on Blacklisted, in covers of "Look For Me I'll Be Around" and "Runnin' Out Of Fools"), here there's a slight move towards the 60s 'pop' end of things (main evidence for this: "That Teenage Feeling" and "Lion's Jaws") - subtle, but it's there, not least in some of the upper register warbling. Also, I think that there's a bit more of an 'indie' streak running through the new album than on previous ones (obviously, y'know, in a Whiskeytown/The Execution of All Things/Laura Veirs/etc sort of way - not that her music sounds anything like either of those - rather than in a Sonic Youth or Pixies kinda fashion). Another change is that the music on this new album is a bit more multi-hued than on those of Case's previous records which I've listened to - there's more variety and a bit more playing around which is almost always effective and also helps to keep things interesting (again, it's only a relatively subtle change, but it's definitely there).
So far, my favourite song on Fox Confessor is "Hold On, Hold On", and I also particularly like "Margaret Vs Pauline", "Star Witness", "That Teenage Feeling" and "The Needle Has Landed", but I've hardly absorbed the album yet, so those picks are even more subject to change than usual. Plus, even outside of those songs, there are so many delicious moments when everything just comes together exactly right and picks you up before you've even realised what was happening ("John Saw That Number" is full of these unexpected pickups).
If you'll forgive a brief lapse into unbecoming juvenilia, dear reader: yay for Neko Case!
Grosse Pointe Blank
Maybe the most impressive thing about Grosse Pointe Blank is that it's almost as hip as it thinks it is: quirky, subversive, sporadically funny, vaguely intellectual (for me, the biggest laugh of the film came with Dan Aykroyd's character's declaration "workers of the world unite!"), wired into pop culture (dig the 80s soundtrack), suitably 'meta' (note the Pulp Fiction cardboard cutouts...and then wonder about the inane dialogue of the two dorky government assassin-wannabe types, one black, one white), with a good ear for dialogue and a dab hand with satire (the scenes in which Martin Blank does small talk are so excruciating because they're only a small step - and sometimes not even a small step - away from how these things actually do go), and basically warm-hearted and feel-good.
As to the acting, John Cusack provides a good centre and Minnie Driver, as the other part of the 'romantic comedy' element of the pic, fits well with him, and both have nice characters to play with; also, the supporting roles are well filled (Joan Cusack is a particular delight, especially in her final scene). Alack, however, all told the film is just slightly off-key - the pacing's a bit weird, and the up-and-downness, while most likely intended, prevents the whole from cohering into anything in particular. The touch with which it was conceived and made isn't as deft as it might have been, with the result that while we can sometimes tell what the film is trying to do, at the same time we become aware that it has fallen short in that attempt (eg, with the violence, and more generally with the sense that it's striving for 'black comedy with a heart' and only getting halfway there). Still, not a bad little number, and if it's a bit of a mess, well, it's still a worthy attempt with some neat elements.
As to the acting, John Cusack provides a good centre and Minnie Driver, as the other part of the 'romantic comedy' element of the pic, fits well with him, and both have nice characters to play with; also, the supporting roles are well filled (Joan Cusack is a particular delight, especially in her final scene). Alack, however, all told the film is just slightly off-key - the pacing's a bit weird, and the up-and-downness, while most likely intended, prevents the whole from cohering into anything in particular. The touch with which it was conceived and made isn't as deft as it might have been, with the result that while we can sometimes tell what the film is trying to do, at the same time we become aware that it has fallen short in that attempt (eg, with the violence, and more generally with the sense that it's striving for 'black comedy with a heart' and only getting halfway there). Still, not a bad little number, and if it's a bit of a mess, well, it's still a worthy attempt with some neat elements.
Sunday, January 29, 2006
Team America: World Police
Watched this at Sid's place last night, but I think that Rob was the driving force behind its choice (having only decided to join them and the others somewhat after the last minute, I didn't have any say). In a nutshell, it's a satire targeting the state of the world today, with a particular focus on American foreign policy and terrorism and, in the process, a take on the jingoistic tendencies of mainstream Hollywood action blockbusters; also, it's all animated by puppets (strings visible), and done by the people behind South Park, Trey Parker and Matt Stone.
Team America starts quite promisingly, lampooning both aforementioned action film conventions/clichés and the nationalistic 'world police' attitude (in Australia, 'deputy sheriff', anyone?) often identified with the US (government) which mirror and are mirrored in such films; and if the humour is tasteless and the satire rather blunt, these faults are partially compensated for by the actual laughs that are sometimes induced.
About midway through, though, the pious left also starts coming in for a serious bashing, with 'social campaigning' actors and Michael Moore getting it in the neck. Now, there's nothing wrong with that in itself - satire, while often outright polemical, can also be unsparing of both 'sides' of a supposed opposition, especially where there's cant and posturing on each end. But the problem here is that ultimately Team America is sunk by a failure of both imagination and vision - its perspective is wholly negative and so finally unsatisfying. If it were funnier, this wouldn't have mattered so much; conversely, if its satire were sharper or more well-targeted, the puerile humour would have been much more overlookable, or could even have come to function as an integral element of the critique. But as it stands, while a part of me admires the attitude behind it, I thought that Team America was too much of a mess to be worth the watching.
Team America starts quite promisingly, lampooning both aforementioned action film conventions/clichés and the nationalistic 'world police' attitude (in Australia, 'deputy sheriff', anyone?) often identified with the US (government) which mirror and are mirrored in such films; and if the humour is tasteless and the satire rather blunt, these faults are partially compensated for by the actual laughs that are sometimes induced.
About midway through, though, the pious left also starts coming in for a serious bashing, with 'social campaigning' actors and Michael Moore getting it in the neck. Now, there's nothing wrong with that in itself - satire, while often outright polemical, can also be unsparing of both 'sides' of a supposed opposition, especially where there's cant and posturing on each end. But the problem here is that ultimately Team America is sunk by a failure of both imagination and vision - its perspective is wholly negative and so finally unsatisfying. If it were funnier, this wouldn't have mattered so much; conversely, if its satire were sharper or more well-targeted, the puerile humour would have been much more overlookable, or could even have come to function as an integral element of the critique. But as it stands, while a part of me admires the attitude behind it, I thought that Team America was too much of a mess to be worth the watching.
Saturday, January 28, 2006
The Shins - Chutes Too Narrow
You can't throw a rock these days without hitting a Shins fan (for 'these days', possibly read 'post-Garden State', though they mayn't have been entirely thin on the ground even before that film...which I still haven't seen), and to be honest, that universal likedness has always discouraged me from digging into the band's discography (and, sometimes, to slur the band by calling them 'the new Coldplay', not because they're necessarily bad, but just because their appeal is so terribly...mass). Of course, that hasn't prevented me from hearing a solid 50% of Chutes Too Narrow, including the album's first four tracks - "Kissing The Lipless", "Mine's Not A High Horse", "So Says I" and "Young Pilgrims" - which are, if I'm truthful, all pretty darn good.
In the past, I've called the Shins a modern combination of Big Star and Simon and Garfunkel; having listened to the album, I'd stand by that, but would probably add Love and also ramp up the '90s indie-rock' quotient of the mix. In fact, the album is rather diverse, but for whatever reason, the impression it leaves on me is quite muted - it's all rather nice, and pretty good for what it is, and sufficiently interesting and its own thing not to offend me by being too vanilla or derivative, but somehow this just isn't the kind of stuff to change my life, at least not nowadays.
In the past, I've called the Shins a modern combination of Big Star and Simon and Garfunkel; having listened to the album, I'd stand by that, but would probably add Love and also ramp up the '90s indie-rock' quotient of the mix. In fact, the album is rather diverse, but for whatever reason, the impression it leaves on me is quite muted - it's all rather nice, and pretty good for what it is, and sufficiently interesting and its own thing not to offend me by being too vanilla or derivative, but somehow this just isn't the kind of stuff to change my life, at least not nowadays.
"And when you believe they call it rock and roll": Spoon - Gimme Fiction
If I were to condense my response to this album to one word, it would probably be 'yessss'; pressed to expand, I might say something which possibly sounded sarcastic but was actually sincere, like 'Spoon are such a good band!'...such is the nature of Spoon, and of Gimme Fiction. I mean, really, how much more is there to say? Spoon are a cool rock band, and Gimme Fiction is a cool rock album; it's interesting and engaging, and also makes me feel good. "I Turn My Camera On", in which the band really gets its strut on, is my favourite; also especially liking "Sister Jack" (Gimme Fiction's "Jonathon Fisk"), "The Beast And Dragon, Adored", and "The Two Sides Of Monsieur Valentin". Probably marginally prefer Kill The Moonlight, which is a bit more skeletal and edgy and probably more tuneful (in that Spoon kinda way) into the bargain, but then again, that old theory about us nearly always most liking the first album we hear by a band still largely seems to hold true...
Banana Yoshimoto - Lizard
So I've been thinking a bit lately about this idea of 'feminine writing' and the possibility of a 'feminine sensibility', particularly (in re that latter) when it comes to reading literature; Lizard, a collection of thematically linked short stories (in Yoshimoto's terms in her afterword, they're about "time, healing, karma, and fate"), strikes me as very much 'feminine' writing (even in the stories - three of six - which are written from the perspective of a male character). I can't put my finger on the reasons for this feeling, but somehow it's just there - it may be that I simply associate Yoshimoto with women, not only because she's female herself, but because both the person who first mentioned her name to me, and the person who lent me the book (unprovoked!), are women, but I think that those considerations are more likely effects of the writing being 'intrinsically' feminine than causes of my perceiving the writing as such (though who can ever tell?).
Anyhow, if true, that might go some way to explaining my somewhat conflicting (is 'conflictual' a word?) responses to these stories. In general, I like them - I like the airiness-coupled-with-weight, the whimsy, the sensitivity, the way its protagonists are moving towards coming to terms with themselves, their pasts, and the worlds around them...and there's a nice balance and progression within the six stories without anything so simple as a teleology; compare this:
to this, from later:
But I don't like them wholeheartedly, and nor do they particularly speak to me, and passages like the above are in some measure responsible for that. I can't entirely figure out where this negative reaction comes from - but I think that a large part of it is that the stories often strike me as a little bit simplistic, almost to the point of being trite (they're told in the first person, which always makes things tricky, but the problem is exacerbated by the narrators' habit of addressing themselves/the reader directly and really spelling things out (although the things being spelt out tend to be 'new', rather than simply summations of what has gone before)). So while I reckon she's pretty good at what she does, and really quite like Lizard, I'm not yet convinced that Yoshimoto is anything special - or, at least, not for me...which brings us back, dear reader, to this idea of 'feminine' writing and sensibility (at risk of seeming to be conflating the 'simplistic' accusation with the 'feminine' thing, which isn't quite what I'm trying to get at).
Anyhow, if true, that might go some way to explaining my somewhat conflicting (is 'conflictual' a word?) responses to these stories. In general, I like them - I like the airiness-coupled-with-weight, the whimsy, the sensitivity, the way its protagonists are moving towards coming to terms with themselves, their pasts, and the worlds around them...and there's a nice balance and progression within the six stories without anything so simple as a teleology; compare this:
Your love is different from mine. What I mean is, when you close your eyes, for that moment, the center of the universe comes to reside within you. And you become a small figure within that vastness, which spreads without limit behind you, and continues to expand at tremendous speed, to engulf all of my past, even before I was born, and every word I've ever written, and each view I've seen, and all the constellations, and the darkness of outer space that surrounds the small blue ball that is earth. Then, when you open your eyes, all that disappears.
to this, from later:
At that moment, I was truly without words. I realized that the world didn't exist by virtue of my mind. On the contrary, he and I and everyone else were swept up in a great whirlpool, swirling around constantly and not knowing where we're bound. Our sensations of pleasure and suffering, our thoughts, none of these things can stop the motion. For the first time, I was able to step away from my imagined position in the center of the universe and see myself as part of something larger. This was my revelation and I now felt--what? Not particularly happy or sad, but just a bit precarious, as if I'd relaxed some muscle that I hadn't needed to use all along.
But I don't like them wholeheartedly, and nor do they particularly speak to me, and passages like the above are in some measure responsible for that. I can't entirely figure out where this negative reaction comes from - but I think that a large part of it is that the stories often strike me as a little bit simplistic, almost to the point of being trite (they're told in the first person, which always makes things tricky, but the problem is exacerbated by the narrators' habit of addressing themselves/the reader directly and really spelling things out (although the things being spelt out tend to be 'new', rather than simply summations of what has gone before)). So while I reckon she's pretty good at what she does, and really quite like Lizard, I'm not yet convinced that Yoshimoto is anything special - or, at least, not for me...which brings us back, dear reader, to this idea of 'feminine' writing and sensibility (at risk of seeming to be conflating the 'simplistic' accusation with the 'feminine' thing, which isn't quite what I'm trying to get at).
Terry Pratchett - Thud!
For a while there, it looked as if I was going to finish reading this entirely in bookstores (mostly the Carlton Borders, though also a bit in Reader's Feast) - I'd made it up to page 150, reading at intervals over the last 6 months or so, before happening on a copy during a flying visit to the local library a few days ago. Anyway, having now been able to read the whole thing in more congenial - ie, less distracting and disconnected - circumstances, I can report that Thud! is another solid entry in the Discworld series...but then again, they all are, aren't they (especially these days)? It's an Ankh-Morpork one, and in particular a Vimes one; the major theme is racial intolerance (as played out amongst the different species of the Disc). Maybe not quite as full as some of the more recent books in the series, but still plenty satisfying, particularly, I think, for existing fans, not only because of the ongoing character development (incremental but discernible) and revisitings, but also for its picking up on general recurring figures from the series (most notably, Koom Valley).
Friday, January 27, 2006
Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow
Ha! I was so sure that this film would be good; no one believed me, but I was right.
Why was I so confident? Well, the synopsis, to start with: New York City attacked by giant robots, can only be saved by fighter ace Jude Law and tenacious girl reporter Gwyneth Paltrow (plus Angelina Jolie, in eyepatch). Throw in retro-futuristic costumes and sets, and what must surely be a tongue-in-cheek approach (witness the title and the poses on the promo poster), and how could it go wrong?
So, as I was saying, Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow was pretty much exactly as one would imagine based on that description: a boy's own pulp adventure with explosions and derring-do a-plenty plus an endearing sense of innocence and fun; doesn't take itself too seriously but looks spectacular...the comic booky/old fashioned 1930s cinematic set design is brill, and the soft focus and haloing effects that often happen around Paltrow are a nice touch, as is the regimental militarism of the many squadrons (plus, let's not forget all those different types of giant robots). Also, all of the characters - including Giovanni Ribisi, as the Captain's sidekick, who I notice and like every time I see him in something - are perfectly cast, able to walk the delicate line which the film demands of them (balancing hommage, gentle self-mockery, and something approaching a straight face in playing their exaggeratedly archetypal roles).
So yes, I think that a lot of people didn't really get it, but this is a good one.
Why was I so confident? Well, the synopsis, to start with: New York City attacked by giant robots, can only be saved by fighter ace Jude Law and tenacious girl reporter Gwyneth Paltrow (plus Angelina Jolie, in eyepatch). Throw in retro-futuristic costumes and sets, and what must surely be a tongue-in-cheek approach (witness the title and the poses on the promo poster), and how could it go wrong?
So, as I was saying, Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow was pretty much exactly as one would imagine based on that description: a boy's own pulp adventure with explosions and derring-do a-plenty plus an endearing sense of innocence and fun; doesn't take itself too seriously but looks spectacular...the comic booky/old fashioned 1930s cinematic set design is brill, and the soft focus and haloing effects that often happen around Paltrow are a nice touch, as is the regimental militarism of the many squadrons (plus, let's not forget all those different types of giant robots). Also, all of the characters - including Giovanni Ribisi, as the Captain's sidekick, who I notice and like every time I see him in something - are perfectly cast, able to walk the delicate line which the film demands of them (balancing hommage, gentle self-mockery, and something approaching a straight face in playing their exaggeratedly archetypal roles).
So yes, I think that a lot of people didn't really get it, but this is a good one.
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
Cat Power - The Greatest
It's been a while since I so keenly anticipated the release of an album as this one - the last album that I can remember going out and buying on the day of its release was Hail To The Thief, which must've been at least a couple of years ago now (those were the days - when I really believed that Radiohead were the best band in the world, and at least half believed that they might save me). It's not just that it was new Cat Power - though of course that was the main factor - but also that the title track and lead single, released quite a while ago, was absolutely stunning...three and a half minutes of magic which not only bore comparison to any of her finest past (sad-eyed) moments but also seemed to flag an interesting new direction for our favourite indie folk-styled eccentric (an appellation which means something, considering how many of them there are).
But the album as a whole...well, I've been thinking about how to explain my equivocal response to it, so how's this: by coincidence, on the day that the album was released, I received a postcard from Michelle (in Canada) telling me about a Cat Power moment that she'd had in a cafe somewhere in Quebec; and I think that the main reason I feel slightly let down by The Greatest is that, title track and maybe two or three others aside, it's hard to imagine the record producing any similar such moments, for me or for others (though the music of the enigmatic Chan always seems to speak so directly and personally to its listeners that it's probably particularly dangerous to be making these kinds of generalisations here).
In one respect, at least, "The Greatest" isn't at all misleading - this album certainly has a different sound from her previous albums. Much has been made of the fact that it was recorded in Memphis (in fact, What Would The Community Think was also laid down there, though not at Ardent nor with this kind of supporting cast of session musicians), and it does have a 'Memphis' kind of style - a full, lush, distinctly produced instrumental sound which is a far cry from the sparse, stark beauty of earlier classics like "King Rides By" or "Bathysphere", say. The guitar - both acoustic and electric, plus pedal steel on a couple of songs - is very much in a supporting role, and in its place we get a bed of piano, gentle percussion and bass, strings, organ, horns, sax, and other assorted, really quite AM radio-friendly sounds...not at all what we're used to from Marshall. What this means, all told, is that we don't get any of those soaring, heartbroken "Moonshiner"-type hymns which usually provide such emotional high points on Cat Power records; nor are there any of the marvellously propulsive, weirdly oscillating "Nude As The News"/"Cross Bones Style"/"He War" numbers, at least in the form that we're accustomed to. So that's the 'slightly let down' part of my response to The Greatest.
But, all of that said, I do like the album, and if I've been listening to it over and over (and I have been), it's not only for the pleasure of hearing Marshall sing songs that I haven't already heard umpteen times before. There are a few songs that could produce those 'moments' - "Where Is My Love" (though that one's maybe a bit too AM radio for my tastes), "The Moon" (one of my favourites), "After It All", and of course "The Greatest" itself. And there are some others which are, well, interesting to say the least - like "Lived In Bars", which comes on all 'latter day Nick Cave in quasi-ballad mood', even down to the lyrics ("We know your house so very well/And we will wake you once we've walked up/All your stairs"), and then shifts into a cousin to that "Stay" song from Dirty Dancing (incongruous enough already? Now imagine it sung in Marshall's usual throaty yowl...), or the positively sprightly "Could We" (maybe the most conventionally swingin' song in her entire back catalogue, not that it has a lot of competition - has a kind of Loaded-era Velvets swagger to it), and there's also "Hate", standing out on The Greatest precisely because it's such an old-school haunted 'voice + guitar' Cat Power song ("Do you believe she said that/Do you believe she said that/I said I hate myself and I want to die"). Plus, the song which closes the album proper - ie, before the 'hidden' track - "Love & Communication", is a bit of a stunner.
The folk strands are largely left behind, but there's a bit of country, a bit of understated funk, and more than a hint of soft-edged radio soul, all of which basically works (as perhaps might've been guessed from the way Marshall's voice surprisingly complemented the bouncy r&b of Handsome Boy Modeling School's "I've Been Thinking") but still leaves me wishing for an "American Flag" or a "Colors And The Kids", or, y'know, a "You May Know Him" or "Sea Of Love" or "Good Woman" or anything in those veins...
Which is this album in a nutshell, really. I can't help but feel a little disappointed with The Greatest, but on its own terms it's really quite a good (though by no means great...pun unintended) record. On the other hand, while I'm tempted to murmur something about this being how it goes when our icons change - and I do think that there's a little bit of that going on in my response to the album - I reckon that mostly The Greatest just doesn't quite come together in the way that we all hoped it would...this time, in changing, Marshall's fallen just a small bit short.
But the album as a whole...well, I've been thinking about how to explain my equivocal response to it, so how's this: by coincidence, on the day that the album was released, I received a postcard from Michelle (in Canada) telling me about a Cat Power moment that she'd had in a cafe somewhere in Quebec; and I think that the main reason I feel slightly let down by The Greatest is that, title track and maybe two or three others aside, it's hard to imagine the record producing any similar such moments, for me or for others (though the music of the enigmatic Chan always seems to speak so directly and personally to its listeners that it's probably particularly dangerous to be making these kinds of generalisations here).
In one respect, at least, "The Greatest" isn't at all misleading - this album certainly has a different sound from her previous albums. Much has been made of the fact that it was recorded in Memphis (in fact, What Would The Community Think was also laid down there, though not at Ardent nor with this kind of supporting cast of session musicians), and it does have a 'Memphis' kind of style - a full, lush, distinctly produced instrumental sound which is a far cry from the sparse, stark beauty of earlier classics like "King Rides By" or "Bathysphere", say. The guitar - both acoustic and electric, plus pedal steel on a couple of songs - is very much in a supporting role, and in its place we get a bed of piano, gentle percussion and bass, strings, organ, horns, sax, and other assorted, really quite AM radio-friendly sounds...not at all what we're used to from Marshall. What this means, all told, is that we don't get any of those soaring, heartbroken "Moonshiner"-type hymns which usually provide such emotional high points on Cat Power records; nor are there any of the marvellously propulsive, weirdly oscillating "Nude As The News"/"Cross Bones Style"/"He War" numbers, at least in the form that we're accustomed to. So that's the 'slightly let down' part of my response to The Greatest.
But, all of that said, I do like the album, and if I've been listening to it over and over (and I have been), it's not only for the pleasure of hearing Marshall sing songs that I haven't already heard umpteen times before. There are a few songs that could produce those 'moments' - "Where Is My Love" (though that one's maybe a bit too AM radio for my tastes), "The Moon" (one of my favourites), "After It All", and of course "The Greatest" itself. And there are some others which are, well, interesting to say the least - like "Lived In Bars", which comes on all 'latter day Nick Cave in quasi-ballad mood', even down to the lyrics ("We know your house so very well/And we will wake you once we've walked up/All your stairs"), and then shifts into a cousin to that "Stay" song from Dirty Dancing (incongruous enough already? Now imagine it sung in Marshall's usual throaty yowl...), or the positively sprightly "Could We" (maybe the most conventionally swingin' song in her entire back catalogue, not that it has a lot of competition - has a kind of Loaded-era Velvets swagger to it), and there's also "Hate", standing out on The Greatest precisely because it's such an old-school haunted 'voice + guitar' Cat Power song ("Do you believe she said that/Do you believe she said that/I said I hate myself and I want to die"). Plus, the song which closes the album proper - ie, before the 'hidden' track - "Love & Communication", is a bit of a stunner.
The folk strands are largely left behind, but there's a bit of country, a bit of understated funk, and more than a hint of soft-edged radio soul, all of which basically works (as perhaps might've been guessed from the way Marshall's voice surprisingly complemented the bouncy r&b of Handsome Boy Modeling School's "I've Been Thinking") but still leaves me wishing for an "American Flag" or a "Colors And The Kids", or, y'know, a "You May Know Him" or "Sea Of Love" or "Good Woman" or anything in those veins...
Which is this album in a nutshell, really. I can't help but feel a little disappointed with The Greatest, but on its own terms it's really quite a good (though by no means great...pun unintended) record. On the other hand, while I'm tempted to murmur something about this being how it goes when our icons change - and I do think that there's a little bit of that going on in my response to the album - I reckon that mostly The Greatest just doesn't quite come together in the way that we all hoped it would...this time, in changing, Marshall's fallen just a small bit short.
Monday, January 23, 2006
Some webcomics that I've been enjoying
It having quite literally been too hot for words over the past few days, that part of my existence which hasn't involved periodically braving the heat to go out and interact with human beings has mainly revolved around watching sport on tv and reading webcomics (no, I'm not particularly proud of this, nor noticeably ashamed...well, maybe just a little bit of the latter). Anyway, some other webcomics that I've been enjoying:
"Dinosaur Comics", written and drawn by one Ryan North. In which dinosaurs talking about philosophy and social trends, making lame jokes, wisecracking and attempting to one-up each other, mucking around with time travel, indulging in whimsical flights of fantasy, carrying out stupid plans, being endlessly self-absorbed, and so on (nearly always with precisely the same pictorial series), are funny.
"Sinfest", written and drawn by one Tatsuya Ishida. In which there's too much going on to really summarise - but suffice to say that it's hella cynical and hella cool.
"Cat and Girl", written and drawn by one Dorothy Gambrell. In which girl, a hipster who, like all true hipsters, always complains about hipsters, hangs out with cat, who is delightfully gormless and not cute at all, and other hipster-type sorts; many references to, eg, Thomas Pynchon, Dorothy Parker, Talulah Gosh, the Shangri-Las, and other touchstones; long self-reflexive frequently self-undermining anti-capitalist diatribes; much joy ensues on my part.
The other ones that I particularly like are Questionable Content and Scary Go Round.
"Dinosaur Comics", written and drawn by one Ryan North. In which dinosaurs talking about philosophy and social trends, making lame jokes, wisecracking and attempting to one-up each other, mucking around with time travel, indulging in whimsical flights of fantasy, carrying out stupid plans, being endlessly self-absorbed, and so on (nearly always with precisely the same pictorial series), are funny.
"Sinfest", written and drawn by one Tatsuya Ishida. In which there's too much going on to really summarise - but suffice to say that it's hella cynical and hella cool.
"Cat and Girl", written and drawn by one Dorothy Gambrell. In which girl, a hipster who, like all true hipsters, always complains about hipsters, hangs out with cat, who is delightfully gormless and not cute at all, and other hipster-type sorts; many references to, eg, Thomas Pynchon, Dorothy Parker, Talulah Gosh, the Shangri-Las, and other touchstones; long self-reflexive frequently self-undermining anti-capitalist diatribes; much joy ensues on my part.
The other ones that I particularly like are Questionable Content and Scary Go Round.
Friday, January 20, 2006
Pretty Girls Make Graves - "The Nocturnal House"
New Pretty Girls Make Graves! For my money, they're the best rock band going around at the moment, so new stuff is cause for excitement, especially given how brilliant their last, The New Romance, was. It's called "The Nocturnal House" and I just found out about it tonight and I've basically been listening to it over and over since, and it's different from their older stuff but probably equally kick-ass, because that's what always happens with this band.
It's hard to describe the song - it doesn't sound like anything much except Pretty Girls Make Graves. I guess that it's a fairly natural progression from The New Romance - it's that same urgent, resonant, thudding, spiralling, dense, intricately constructed, shouty (Zollo's in good voice and there's some of that fun background shouting, too), post-hardcore indie-rock stuff, except, like, more so (oh yeah, and it has whistles). Plus it works that same trick of having all kinds of weird tempo changes yet never for a second seeming to falter in its headlong stabbing forward rush; typical genius moment comes about 2:40 in, when all of the instrumentation suddenly slows and crashes in unison, refiguring the opening guitar kick, and you realise that you've been waiting the whole song for precisely that to happen. If the whole album (Elan Vital, due out in April) is as good as this, we're in for a treat.
Here (and see also here).
In other PGMG news, have got my ticket to Laneway Festival but am seriously thinking about also hitting the solo show the night before. Other gigs hopefully coming up in the next few weeks: M.I.A., Lisa Miller, Kathleen Edwards...
Anyway, I don't think that I can face the prospect of going out tonight (at least not yet), what with this heat and all; sitting at home and continuing to listen to "The Nocturnal House" at least for a while longer seems like a much better bet.
It's hard to describe the song - it doesn't sound like anything much except Pretty Girls Make Graves. I guess that it's a fairly natural progression from The New Romance - it's that same urgent, resonant, thudding, spiralling, dense, intricately constructed, shouty (Zollo's in good voice and there's some of that fun background shouting, too), post-hardcore indie-rock stuff, except, like, more so (oh yeah, and it has whistles). Plus it works that same trick of having all kinds of weird tempo changes yet never for a second seeming to falter in its headlong stabbing forward rush; typical genius moment comes about 2:40 in, when all of the instrumentation suddenly slows and crashes in unison, refiguring the opening guitar kick, and you realise that you've been waiting the whole song for precisely that to happen. If the whole album (Elan Vital, due out in April) is as good as this, we're in for a treat.
Here (and see also here).
In other PGMG news, have got my ticket to Laneway Festival but am seriously thinking about also hitting the solo show the night before. Other gigs hopefully coming up in the next few weeks: M.I.A., Lisa Miller, Kathleen Edwards...
Anyway, I don't think that I can face the prospect of going out tonight (at least not yet), what with this heat and all; sitting at home and continuing to listen to "The Nocturnal House" at least for a while longer seems like a much better bet.
Dusty Springfield - Dusty
Well, it's Dusty Springfield - what's to say? I've been intending to pick up some kind of best-of for a little while now, and they're not difficult to track down cheaply, especially with the new stage show (which I still have some hopes of motivating myself to get to, money again being the sticking point) and all. So of course I've been enjoying listening to this, though I could wish that it had been chronologically tracklisted, instead of jumping around as it does; in particular, such an ordering would've made it easier for me to avoid the synth/disco-era stuff that's scattered throughout. The Dusty I like is the soulful, insightful interpreter of classic pop tunes who has that knack of perfectly conveying emotion and meaning, make you feel as if she feels every nuance of what she's singing about - the Bacharach and David numbers are the ones with which I'm most familiar ("I Just Don't Know What To Do With Myself", "Twenty Four Hours From Tulsa", "The Look Of Love", etc...and I didn't know that "Wishin' And Hopin'" was one of theirs), but there are so many others collected here (the Carole King-penned "Goin' Back" is one highlight among many) and no doubt elsewhere in her back catalogue. Only one song from Dusty in Memphis - "Son Of A Preacher Man", of course - which seems to be the one to get, both by reputation and in terms of the side of her music that I favour ("Breakfast In Bed", which isn't included on this set, is probably my favourite of the Dusty songs I've heard).
Belowparecords summer sampler 2003/2004
Two songs each by bands called Brand New and Kisschasy, and one by In The Grey, none of whom I've heard before (though the name 'Kisschasy', at least, rung some faint bells)...all a bit emo-pop-punk (in that three-chord indie rock-inflected aiming-for-anthemic nice-enough-if-you're-into-this-kinda-stuff-which-I'm-not way) for me...unwieldy description but you know the kind of music I'm talking about.
Monday, January 16, 2006
A Pure Formality
Frenetic, fractured opening in black and white; a gunshot, a man running; heavy rain, forest all around. The man (Gerard Depardieu) is picked up by the police and taken to an isolated, ramshackle building where he is questioned by a mysterious inspector (Roman Polanski); the film unfolds as a shadowy metaphysical thriller more concerned with exploring various big questions (to do with guilt, remorse, memory, and death, to name just a few) than simply 'whodunnit'. The last, and only previous, time I saw this was in high school, probably about seven or eight years ago, when I thought that it was brilliant (I was right into French films at that point and was all into this kind of thing; plus, the twist blew my mind); it was nowhere near as good this time round but still had a certain appealing murky style to it.
Magnificent Desolation: Walking on the Moon 3D
It's about walking on the moon! And it's in 3D! On a big big screen! And voiced by Tom Hanks!
Okay, so I'm being a bit facetious...I only went to see this because David suggested it after his dvd copy of season 2 of Arrested Development wouldn't work and I like to drift along in friends' wakes when they have ideas and whims. Still, I'm glad I went, if only to see what this IMAX business is all about (y'know, whee, goggles!); the feature itself was okay, I guess, mildly spectacular though light on substance and completely US-centric, as one would expect...ah, it was alright, but I got distracted halfway through by being pissed off at the amount of money that's been spent on space voyages but which could've been put towards some more immediately helpful cause here on the ground (though once you start on those kinds of thoughts, where do they end?).
Okay, so I'm being a bit facetious...I only went to see this because David suggested it after his dvd copy of season 2 of Arrested Development wouldn't work and I like to drift along in friends' wakes when they have ideas and whims. Still, I'm glad I went, if only to see what this IMAX business is all about (y'know, whee, goggles!); the feature itself was okay, I guess, mildly spectacular though light on substance and completely US-centric, as one would expect...ah, it was alright, but I got distracted halfway through by being pissed off at the amount of money that's been spent on space voyages but which could've been put towards some more immediately helpful cause here on the ground (though once you start on those kinds of thoughts, where do they end?).
Music of 2005
Below, the tracklist for a cd made up of the stuff I listened to the most during 2005 or, at least, most strongly associate with the year:
1. Right In Time - Lucinda Williams
Definitely one of my artists of the year (along with Gillian Welch and, in a different way, Aimee Mann). "Right In Time" is the opening cut on her best album, Car Wheels On A Gravel Road, and I clearly remember the first time I heard it (and especially the chorus): on my discman as I walked down Swanston Street, late afternoon, with the sun on my face, wind in my hair, and that familiar sense of freedom mingled with regret upon me. It's still glorious.
2. In State - Kathleen Edwards
A sustained, swooning rush, epitomising the countryish female singer-songwriter theme of the year.
3. Little Stars - Lisa Miller
This was the first of Miller's post-As Far As A Life Goes songs that I heard - on that Country Songbirds compilation, which turned out to be just as significant to my 2005 (and beyond) as the rage one was along the road to the indie canon all those years ago - and very wonderful it is, too. Dreamy, heartfelt, and rather beautiful.
4. Little Bombs - Aimee Mann
...life just kind of empties out...
I probably listened to The Forgotten Arm twice as much as the next most highly-rotated album in these parts over '05, and that's a conservative guess; "Little Bombs" is the album's highlight, and completely the song to which I most sulked and burned over the year. Although in general 2005 was a pretty good year for me, I did spend parts of it feeling quite sad, and this was the perfect song for those times. [*]
5. Kaifuku Suru Kizu - Lily Chou-Chou
Gorgeously plaintive, pretty, and too sad for words. I spent a lot of time listening to this one, usually at night, in the first half of the year in particular. [*]
6. I Know I Know I Know - Tegan and Sara
...the weather is changing and breaking my stride...
Because I didn't hear a cuter or more catchy song all year, nor one that was more liable to make me feel happy in a slightly light-headed, silly kinda way. (And for another reason that we don't need to go into here...)
7. 14th Street - Laura Cantrell
Cantrell's such a lovely, unaffected singer and yet always so interesting to listen to; this song is a perfect fit in its sweet, yearning simplicity.
8. Cowgirl In The Sand - Neil Young with Crazy Horse
2005 was also the year in which Neil Young finally really made sense to me, and when it happened, it did so in a big way. I mostly associate his music with driving (especially on the freeway) or drifting (especially around the city), and "Cowgirl In The Sand" - fiery and plangent, urgent and tender, rockin' and introspective - especially goes with the first of those. [*]
9. Wrecking Ball - Gillian Welch
...showed me colours I'd never seen...
I actually discovered Soul Journey in '04, but it was in 2005 that the album - and Welch's music generally - really took hold of me. "Wrecking Ball" is my favourite of her songs, and the one that I'm most likely to have playing while I lie around by myself and dream of past and future. I wrote somewhere that listening to the song feels like coming home, and somehow it does, though I don't quite know what that means.
10. Ride The Wind To Me - Julie Miller
Another lovely, melodic song from the Country Songbirds set which, instead of fading away after the initial infatuation, continues to work its way deeper and deeper into my heart.
11. Neighbourhood #1 (Tunnels) - The Arcade Fire
The last out-and-out rock band that I got really into, and possibly the last one for some time to come, too, if current tastes are anything to go by (evidently, 2005 was the year in which I found country music, at least as done by women in the last 20 years or so); while Funeral is brilliant but flawed, "Neighbourhood #1" is basically impeccable. It's sort of a coda on this cd for the simple pragmatic reason that it screws up the transitions when put anywhere else, but I feel as if this band, and this song, were everywhere in '05. [*]
1. Right In Time - Lucinda Williams
Definitely one of my artists of the year (along with Gillian Welch and, in a different way, Aimee Mann). "Right In Time" is the opening cut on her best album, Car Wheels On A Gravel Road, and I clearly remember the first time I heard it (and especially the chorus): on my discman as I walked down Swanston Street, late afternoon, with the sun on my face, wind in my hair, and that familiar sense of freedom mingled with regret upon me. It's still glorious.
2. In State - Kathleen Edwards
A sustained, swooning rush, epitomising the countryish female singer-songwriter theme of the year.
3. Little Stars - Lisa Miller
This was the first of Miller's post-As Far As A Life Goes songs that I heard - on that Country Songbirds compilation, which turned out to be just as significant to my 2005 (and beyond) as the rage one was along the road to the indie canon all those years ago - and very wonderful it is, too. Dreamy, heartfelt, and rather beautiful.
4. Little Bombs - Aimee Mann
...life just kind of empties out...
I probably listened to The Forgotten Arm twice as much as the next most highly-rotated album in these parts over '05, and that's a conservative guess; "Little Bombs" is the album's highlight, and completely the song to which I most sulked and burned over the year. Although in general 2005 was a pretty good year for me, I did spend parts of it feeling quite sad, and this was the perfect song for those times. [*]
5. Kaifuku Suru Kizu - Lily Chou-Chou
Gorgeously plaintive, pretty, and too sad for words. I spent a lot of time listening to this one, usually at night, in the first half of the year in particular. [*]
6. I Know I Know I Know - Tegan and Sara
...the weather is changing and breaking my stride...
Because I didn't hear a cuter or more catchy song all year, nor one that was more liable to make me feel happy in a slightly light-headed, silly kinda way. (And for another reason that we don't need to go into here...)
7. 14th Street - Laura Cantrell
Cantrell's such a lovely, unaffected singer and yet always so interesting to listen to; this song is a perfect fit in its sweet, yearning simplicity.
8. Cowgirl In The Sand - Neil Young with Crazy Horse
2005 was also the year in which Neil Young finally really made sense to me, and when it happened, it did so in a big way. I mostly associate his music with driving (especially on the freeway) or drifting (especially around the city), and "Cowgirl In The Sand" - fiery and plangent, urgent and tender, rockin' and introspective - especially goes with the first of those. [*]
9. Wrecking Ball - Gillian Welch
...showed me colours I'd never seen...
I actually discovered Soul Journey in '04, but it was in 2005 that the album - and Welch's music generally - really took hold of me. "Wrecking Ball" is my favourite of her songs, and the one that I'm most likely to have playing while I lie around by myself and dream of past and future. I wrote somewhere that listening to the song feels like coming home, and somehow it does, though I don't quite know what that means.
10. Ride The Wind To Me - Julie Miller
Another lovely, melodic song from the Country Songbirds set which, instead of fading away after the initial infatuation, continues to work its way deeper and deeper into my heart.
11. Neighbourhood #1 (Tunnels) - The Arcade Fire
The last out-and-out rock band that I got really into, and possibly the last one for some time to come, too, if current tastes are anything to go by (evidently, 2005 was the year in which I found country music, at least as done by women in the last 20 years or so); while Funeral is brilliant but flawed, "Neighbourhood #1" is basically impeccable. It's sort of a coda on this cd for the simple pragmatic reason that it screws up the transitions when put anywhere else, but I feel as if this band, and this song, were everywhere in '05. [*]
Madeleine Peyroux - Careless Love
Bluesy, night-time, soul-infused jazz, evocatively and languorously sung; highlight is "Between The Bars", piano notes falling like teardrops, melody drifting like rain. Also enjoy Peyroux's take on "You're Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go", and basically likin' the whole record. After a bit of thought, some words which describe her voice: husky, low, warm, caramel, enchanting.
Lisa Miller - Version Originale
This is originally what I was going to write about Version Originale:
Another Lisa Miller album in which the singing is, for the most part, better than the songs. "Little Stars" - one of the key songs of my 2005 - is on it, and there are a few other nice cuts, including several which do stick in the mind, but really most of the charm of this record lies in the richness, warmth and fullness of the music and of Miller's singing in particular.
But each time I listen to the album, the songs grow on me more and more - songs like "New Record", "Pushover", "Hold On", "I Want To Live"...there's a strange sort of magic between the lines of Version Originale, inhering in the songs themselves as much as in the music and singing...it all has a sort of glow, and damnit one day I really will see her play live.
Another Lisa Miller album in which the singing is, for the most part, better than the songs. "Little Stars" - one of the key songs of my 2005 - is on it, and there are a few other nice cuts, including several which do stick in the mind, but really most of the charm of this record lies in the richness, warmth and fullness of the music and of Miller's singing in particular.
But each time I listen to the album, the songs grow on me more and more - songs like "New Record", "Pushover", "Hold On", "I Want To Live"...there's a strange sort of magic between the lines of Version Originale, inhering in the songs themselves as much as in the music and singing...it all has a sort of glow, and damnit one day I really will see her play live.
Saturday, January 14, 2006
Good Night, And Good Luck
This one had had separate rave reviews from two of my favourite people (goes without saying that basically all of my favourite people are in tune with me when it comes to pop culture), so I was pretty certain that I'd like it. Turns out that they were right and Good Night, And Good Luck is great - one of the few films I can think of that I'd unhesitatingly recommend to all of my scattered friends and other fellow travellers. It's hard to find words to explain why the film's so good - could it be that we all like it as much as we do just because it's so obviously on the side of right? Actually, there's probably something to that, especially in the present international and domestic political climate...the subject matter is obviously interesting as well as significant (both historically and contemporarily), and there's no doubt in our mind at any point as to who we should be rooting for, which makes for a comforting black and whiteness (ha, ha) to the central issue (well, we all already knew that Joe McCarthy was evil anyway), but there's also a pleasing nuancedness to the characterisations and actions of characters like network boss Bill Paley, talking head Don Hollenback and newsroom types Joe and Shirley Wershba.
Also, it's impeccably stylish - black and white cinematography, jazz punctuation, clean breaks between scenes - which always helps, and it also captures the romance of the newsroom that we've all absorbed and which is really only available to us in historical terms, and primarily cinematically, nowadays. And the ensemble acting is right on. (And the guy who plays Murrow is great, and likewise Clooney.) The whole has a documentary kind of feel, augmented by the inclusion of actual footage of McCarthy, and reminded me of Downfall in that it convinced me, at least while I was watching it, that this was exactly how things actually happened, and also in its technique of seeming to pick up the story midway (couldn't swear to this, but there may not've been any opening credits at all). Seemed to go by very quickly, and I was surprised when it ended.[*]
As it happened, I saw it with three people who are sorta representative of different points along the political spectrum, at least within the limits of the circles in which I usually move - (from left to right) Wei, Rob and Sid - and all of them seemed to enjoy it heaps. (Although maybe one's political orientation doesn't make that much of a difference, as surely all sensible people would realise now, with the benefit of hindsight, that McCarthy was the very furthest thing from a hero, whatever their views on our present straits - or is that just my own perspective showing?). In any case, my esteem for George Clooney continues to rise.
* * *
[*] Admittedly, this may've had something to do with my having been out drinking basically all afternoon and evening beforehand, but I suspect not.
Also, it's impeccably stylish - black and white cinematography, jazz punctuation, clean breaks between scenes - which always helps, and it also captures the romance of the newsroom that we've all absorbed and which is really only available to us in historical terms, and primarily cinematically, nowadays. And the ensemble acting is right on. (And the guy who plays Murrow is great, and likewise Clooney.) The whole has a documentary kind of feel, augmented by the inclusion of actual footage of McCarthy, and reminded me of Downfall in that it convinced me, at least while I was watching it, that this was exactly how things actually happened, and also in its technique of seeming to pick up the story midway (couldn't swear to this, but there may not've been any opening credits at all). Seemed to go by very quickly, and I was surprised when it ended.[*]
As it happened, I saw it with three people who are sorta representative of different points along the political spectrum, at least within the limits of the circles in which I usually move - (from left to right) Wei, Rob and Sid - and all of them seemed to enjoy it heaps. (Although maybe one's political orientation doesn't make that much of a difference, as surely all sensible people would realise now, with the benefit of hindsight, that McCarthy was the very furthest thing from a hero, whatever their views on our present straits - or is that just my own perspective showing?). In any case, my esteem for George Clooney continues to rise.
* * *
[*] Admittedly, this may've had something to do with my having been out drinking basically all afternoon and evening beforehand, but I suspect not.
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