Alien: Covenant

First things first: like Prometheus, Alien: Covenant looks spectacular - all the way through, and especially in the middle section when they visit David's weird necropolis. Scott's vision of space here has a velvety, Gothic heaviness, as well as - obviously - being dark in every sense.

It's also gripping once the bad things start happening, rapid-fire bursts of suspense and action alternating with one or two phases of respite, and while the body count mounts in a way that is utterly preordained and generally without a great sense of meaning as one after another of the crew meets their grisly deaths, it's involving enough in how it whittles them down (having said that, I'm not one for nit-picking about either of these kinds of things, but: (1) given how it turns out the alien material penetrates the crew, in retrospect it does seem odd that they were all walking around on an unknown planet without any breathing gear - for fear of disease and infection even if the air had already been analysed as breathable; and (2) the shower scene was pretty gratuitous).

Of the crew, the most striking are Katherine Waterston, who made an impression in Inherent Vice and does so again here with a turn that's both a touch enigmatic and engagingly human, Billy Crudup, who always has an air to him but here feels just a bit underdeveloped (particularly the implications of his faith) and has an arc that basically involves behaving exactly the way that his first appearances lead you to expect him to (i.e. on their surface, with no development at all), Danny McBride (a bit one-dimensional but not distractingly so) and, in a likeably real-feeling performance, Amy Seimetz.

But actually, it's Fassbender's dual turn - as David and Walter - that's the most interesting of the lot, and which lies most at the heart of the film's concerns. There's a tip of the hat to Blade Runner when David exclaims 'That's the spirit' to Daniels' (Waterston) resistance - that it comes when she thrusts a nail into him is probably not coincidental to Roy's own nailing, nor, come to that, that one's own biblical referent - and the questions about the nature of creation, what it is to be human (or alive) and related are all well in play. The answers may seem likely to be nihilistic - but then who knows, perhaps in however many more films are to come in this intriguing franchise, the aliens might come to be imbued with a deeper symbolic significance...it seems just possible.

The Realistic Joneses (Red Stitch)

Aha - I thought that this one reminded me of something else I've seen at Red Stitch, and it turned out that I was thinking of "Middletown", which was also by Will Eno. Like that other, "The Realistic Joneses" trucks in a quiet, finding the extraordinary in the ordinary, not quite naturalistic but not quite fantastic either, sharp-edged but kind strain of contemporary theatre, which I like a lot when done well, as it is here.

Two sets of Joneses become neighbours in small town America, Bob and Jennifer, and John and Pony. Their first interactions are banal to an extent that's almost farcical, all of them talking past each other and at cross-purposes; we know Bob is unwell and there's a hint of ASD to the way John interacts, while Pony comes across as both none-too-bright and, as she herself says later, possessed of no attention span whatsoever, while Jennifer's stoicism tells a story in itself.

But as their succession of encounters proceeds in a series of short scenes - a form to which I'm also drawn in both theatre and literature, perhaps in part because of the spaces it leaves between action - and more is revealed about each of the couples, and some of the things that they share - as well as the ways in which they can bring comfort to each other - are brought to light, the play progresses to a real poignancy, well served by the staging I think.

Sarah Sutherland as Jennifer and Ella Caldwell as Pony were both completely convincing (the former role having maybe more dramatic heft, but the latter perhaps the harder to strike the right tone with), Neil Pigot as Bob brought a ruined-hulking presence that is important to the role, while Justin Hosking's performance was, for me, the most difficult to pin down - it felt a touch too stylised, though it's hard to know how much of that is in the character as written as opposed to in the performing.

I was touched by this one, especially the gentle note on which it ends, with its intimations of how things might have been and the kind of accommodation that may be possible with how things are - apart from the wonderful John, it was the highlight of the theatre-going year so far.

(w/ Cass)

"Ocean Imaginaries" (RMIT Gallery)

In the first, darkened room off to the left, Lynette Wallworth's "Coral: Rekindling Venus", 45 minutes of stunning, frequently abstract undersea imagery focused on coral fluorescence - coral filmed at night capturing and emitting light in all kinds of colours - with other marine life drifting through, mostly set to a gorgeous Max Richter score. It was made for projection in an overhead planetarium, which the gallery has partly replicated through a conical screen viewed at an angle from beneath.

Elsewhere, a mix of those focusing on the sublime/beautiful aspects of the ocean and the marks of human activity, or both at once. I liked Simon Finn's pieces, including 'Submerged' (2016), his video of the ocean from beneath the surface, and the mysterious 'Passage' (2016; Emma Critchley and John Roach), whose 'soundtrack' comes from the amplified sound of the installed chalk dissolving in water.

Sister Rosetta Tharpe - Every Time I Feel The Spirit

Listened to this out of curiosity, since she gets mentioned a lot as 'the godmother of rock and roll', and especially around those country-blues intersections (e.g. vis-a-vis Neko Case, via Robert Plant, Rhiannon Giddens etc). But really of historical interest only.

Idan Ben-Barak and Julian Frost - Do not lick this book

Delightful. Needless to say, it's always great when a friend makes something good. (A&U)

"Angela Brennan: Love that moves the sun and the other stars" (Niagara Galleries)

Paintings and earthenware (pots, jars, jugs) all characterised by an enthusiastic, thoughtful approach to colour. The paintings were quite varied within the broad parameters of all being essentially abstract, composed of blocks and swathes of multiple colours, and those colours being translucently gleaming. Very attractive, and several were increasingly interesting as I spent more time with them.

My favourite was "Like a visitor to Earth (II)", the radiating arrangement of its coloured shapes intriguingly suggestive, oriented around the electric blue sphere at its centre (for me, the association is with creativity), coupled with the red shape to its side (in this context, for mine, the colour of passion), with a sun-like figure overhead and something indeterminate but object-like in the foreground, hinting at representation and meaning.

Twelfth Night (National Theatre live, Nova)

Great fun. This was my introduction to Twelfth Night and it helped to know that several of the characters had been cast (and portrayed) with genders different from those with which Shakespeare wrote them - notably Malvolio, here female and styled as Malvolia (Tamsin Greig, known to me thanks to Black Books) especially given the fluidity and gender confusion that characterises the play itself. Great set and performances all round, with the setting essentially indeterminately contemporary in a way that neatly 'sets' that more time-bound elements of the plot and setting while allowing the story and feeling to cut through in modern terms. Very well done!

(w/ Kevin)

The Lego Batman Movie

Pretty zippy; plenty of jokes and a few laughs. Will Arnett and Michael Cera as Batman and Robin. Also, Ralph Fiennes and Voldemort except Fiennes voices Alfred and Eddie Izzard is Voldemort. Affectionate continuity with past Batman films and tv series. Not quite as joyously fizzy as the first Lego movie but maybe some of that was the effect of the unexpected.

Alien3

The 'assembly' cut, which is about 30 minutes longer than the theatrical and includes some additional and quite striking visuals of the prison planet at the start, a sub-plot (or plot component) involving a first successful capture of the alien and its release by one of the prisoners, and a general dialing up of the religious - including hellish (for all that this is a weak installment and that the aliens in general have become a fixture on our pop culture landscape, there's still a certain force to the series' dark vision) - elements. Charles Dance in a sympathetic role and about 25 years younger a bonus.

"My heart is a poor judge": Aimee Mann - Mental Illness

I've had to live with this one for a while for it to begin sinking properly in, a process which I think has depended just as much on the passage of time as repeated listens. For a while, it seemed merely pleasant, but lacking in any piercing melodies or texture, as if, for all of Mann's craft, the tunes had been left off this one; but, in the way of these things, it took listening more closely, and just more, for the layers to reveal themselves (extemporanea reminds me that I had a similar journey with The Forgotten Arm way back in 2005).

And what emerges is a very fine exercise in - as ever - sharply observed, poignantly constructed songs that veers perhaps 10 per cent more understated (and consistently acoustically mid-tempo) than anything she's done before, still unfurling, filled with little details that add up, and lit, at the very end, by a trademarkably gorgeous piano ballad in "Poor Judge", hitting with all the more force for coming at the end of a record that's far more characterised by guitar.

It was as far back as 2009 that I was already thinking that Mann might be my very favourite (musical) artist, and she very well still may be (Patty Griffin is the only other who comes to mind). It's worlds upon worlds in her music, and it always comes back to people and how they relate to each other and to themselves.

The New Pornographers - Whiteout Conditions

Energetic, enjoyable and consistent, but doesn't have quite the sharpness or the (at least) one or two individual particularly high points that the best of their past output has featured.

"Strange Here: George Saunders" (Northcote Town Hall via Wheeler Centre)

In conversation with Don Watson. Plenty of highlights but they included:

• "If your dog bites you in the groin, then you didn't know your dog" (or words to that effect - re: Trump's election and artists needing to call out that they didn't and don't understand it; I think the dog is America in this metaphor)
• (Asked whether he believes in ghosts:) "Yeesss..." (in exaggeratedly uncertain tone of voice) (And a bit later, much more confidently:) "But I do believe in ghosts as a literary device."
• Plenty of wry, open-hearted humour (as could be expected) including anecdote about being on plane that looked for a while as if it might be in serious trouble
• Reminders of the importance of discipline in writing (including in leading the reader to a point where the difficult, odd turn is the only possible one), the way that a novel may need to teach its reader how to read it, the way empathy can arise through the process of re-drafting, novels defined as long pieces of prose with mistakes in them, and more.

(it was Sara who got excited about going on strength of this marvellous essay, but she was held up at the last minute and Cass was able to sub in; also there were Noah and a couple of associates)

Interstellar

There's a great sense of gravity to Interstellar - aptly, I suppose, given the importance that the force plays in the film via wormholes, communication across time and more, although that sense of sombreness and weight is pretty consistent across all of Nolan's films. And it also has a powerfully uncanny feeling, bringing together the familiar and the imagined in a way that's equally fascinating and unsettling - the massive water planet, in particular, is the stuff of nightmares.

I've read a couple of reviews of his films in the past that have said they're missing the human touch - in that they're more about spectacle and ideas than real feeling - but I've never been on board with that idea; in fact, to me they all seem absolutely laden with emotional impact and Interstellar might be the one that shoots most directly for that particular base (though not the one that hits it the hardest - that would be The Prestige, I think), helped along by the thoroughly professional - in a good way - turns from all concerned (McConaughey, Chastain, Hathaway, Caine, Mackenzie Foy as the young Murph, and others). (On a second viewing, the Matt Damon sequence isn't as strong as the rest of the film - but the surprise of it on first go-around makes it still a very legitimate move I reckon.)

(last time)

Haley Bonar - Last War

After some thought on the subject 
I've decided I've kind of lost it 

On this one, it's the low-key slink of "Bad Reputation" that most grabs me, Bonar's sometimes odd, and also oddly alluring, delivery the vessel coursing on the humming layers of rhythm guitar and thudding drums from which little details leap up from time to time; there's a straight line between it and the later "I Can Change" (from 2016's Impossible Dream, which turned out to be my favourite album of last year).

I have dreams about the end of the story
There's no explosion, there's never any holy glory
Just a bunch of people lost and sleeping
Trying to find someone

But "Bad Reputation" is far from the only memorable song on this 2014 set - there's plenty of starry, alt-ish indie of various kinds, now more driving in tempo, now more of a gentle astral drift, here ascending on little synth lines, there working more of a JAMC-style jagged pop wall of sound, and all strikingly melodic, without which none of this would matter. v.g.

We've lost a little bit but we're gonna go find it

Tom Grimes - Mentor: A Memoir

This was a gift from Carmel when I left my last-but-one job and I hung on to it out of appreciation for the gesture. I came across it during my most recent bookshelf clean-out and it turns out to be an apt thing for me to've read right now, as its account of Grimes's coming into his life as a writer and the relationship he develops with the already-established Frank Conroy, director of the Iowa Writers' Workshop is full of obviously hard-won insight into the effort and craft required to write well.

Certain Women

I'm probably a bit biased towards these kinds of films - quiet, interior, interested in people without seeking to explain them, and located in a landscape (both natural and urban) that combines beauty and barrenness - and predisposed to find the poetry and profundity in them. But, even still, I thought Certain Women was pretty outstanding, from the almost trompe l'oeil effect of the opening shot of the train coming closer across the Montana plains, its horn startlingly loud as it looms in the foreground of the shot, through its three very loosely connected - at least events-wise - vignettes of women making their way through the stuff of life.

It's based on short stories by Maile Meloy, which makes sense as the story and character plotting as well as elements of the general mood reminded me of Short Cuts, especially the way it finds significance, crisis, contingent resolution and so on in small moments, in that (American) short story way. But its strength is its own - in the stunning, painterly cinematography (it's regionally off-base but Andrew Wyeth was the one who came to mind), the attentiveness to its characters and the contexts and constraints within which they pursue their lives and goals, and also in the performances turned in by Laura Dern (so much soul), Michelle Williams (the weakest of the segments but still good, and all too real feeling), and newcomer Lily Gladstone (who was maybe the best of them, and so believable, both on her own with the horses, and interacting with the intriguing cipher of Kristen Stewart's blow-in, teaching 'school law' of all things). Also, the film has some of the best silences between people that I've seen in a long time.

(w/ Cass)

"How to be a Human Being and a Lawyer Too" (Judge Felicity Hampel - Tristan Jepson Memorial Foundation annual lecture)

I have a lot of thoughts about the legal profession but I went to this because Erandathie's one of the co-organisers (Meribah and Ruwani also there). Hampel went about half and half between talking about the experience of County Court judges and staff and vicarious trauma, and challenging the assumptions around the well-known higher than average incidence of mental health disorders and challenges in the legal profession - pretty good.

She cited a study which found that a sense of meaning, autonomy and social relations were the top factors correlating with happiness in the workplace; that of course made me think of Dan Pink and his fourth factor, mastery (and/or competence and the ability to improve), and the role that it plays in the lawyer's make-up and the profession more generally. I also liked the long stream of questions that she asked at the end - posed for us to think about, and intended to provoke reflection on purpose, the place of work within our lives, and what we might do about it, and most of which I've confronted myself over the past few years (ironically, or maybe not so much, after leaving the law behind myself).

(TJMF)

100 Contemporary Artists (Taschen)

I've read two good ways of explaining what conceptual art 'is' recently, possibly both in the same interview: it's not a style but rather a strategy (or set of strategies), and it's not simply art that has a concept but more particularly is art that is interested in the concept of art. And while conceptual art and contemporary art - the latter being the purview of these two large format books (A-K and L-Z) - aren't the same thing, they certainly overlap quite a lot.

Across these 100, there are:

• a few whose work I'd say I know at least moderately well, as these things go: Banksy, Olafur Eliasson, Andreas Gursky, Anish Kapoor, Yoshitomo Nara
• others who are part of the landscape but into whose art I haven't penetrated as deeply: Ai Weiwei, Matthew Barney, Maurizio Cattelan, Thomas Demand, Damien Hirst, Jeff Koons, Takashi Murakami, Cindy Sherman, Jeff Wall
• a few more who I know basically by name and from perhaps a handful of specific works: Jean-Michel Basquiat, Tracey Emin, Nan Goldin, Felix Gonzalez-Torres, Tony Oursler (entirely from that terrifying hissing lightbulb in an ACCA exhibition a while back), Raymond Pettibon, Pipilotti Rist
• plenty of others who were new to me.

Of the new ones, a few who I flagged as particularly interesting for one reason or another, and possible follow up. With the book's selected quotation from each artist:

Doug Aitken. The question for me is how can I make time somehow collapse or expand, so it no longer unfolds in this narrow form.

Peter Doig. Often I am trying to create a 'numbness.' I am trying to create something that is questionable, something that is difficult, if not impossible, to put into words.

Gunther Forg. For me, abstract art today is that what you see, and nothing more.

Won Ju Lim. I am interested in my work referring to multiple things simultaneously. I am also interested in my work slipping from one reference to another.

Wangechi Mutu. I can act out the victimizer or the victim; I can perform the role of the manipulator of the image but also the manipulated. I think art can carry those two positions at the same time, and it can complicate how people see things.

Chris Ofili. So my painting starts off very, very pale and then proceeds towards darkness. In the end, you get the feeling that the light is coming from within.

Thomas Struth. When you work with photographs, it's almost natural to long for slowness because the intention is to grasp something, to present a work that expresses a broader range of meanings, that is intense and capable of offering a shared experience with other people.

Sturgill Simpson - A Sailor's Guide to Earth

Most enjoyable contemporary kitchen sink country, with just the right degree of crooning.

Away (Malthouse)

Actually pretty good, even though a bit uneven in the mixing of the relatively naturalistic action of the plot and the more abstract elements of the staging (although it did boast one of the best scene transitions that I can recall ever seeing, from storm to abstract beach, generating a Ganzfeld-type effect which serves the action well, and the opening flare of the play within a play of A Midsummer Night's Dream was outstanding too).

I didn't know the play before - written in the 80s, set in the summer between '67 and '68 - and wondered whether some of the dialogue had been strategically cut (not an uncommon Malthouse-production move) to generate greater discontinuity and spaces within which meanings could be created, or even if not, how much of what was made legible through the acting and staging but not explicit in the dialogue was written into the text of the play. Either way, I also thought the version we did get was impressively economical in bringing to life the three sets of families (each made up of a husband, wife and child, with that third absent in one case) and setting them all in motion.

(w/ trang)