Mmm...I guess that there's a bit of country in here, but I think that Being There is basically a rock and roll (double) album, and a darn good one, too, heaps of fun all the way through from slow-burn opening anthem "Misunderstood" to riotous bar-room romp closer "Dreamer In My Dreams". They're both highlights; other favourites are "Outtasite (Outta Mind)", "What's The World Got In Store" and "Sunken Treasure". Thinking about it, though, it's hard to pick individual songs out, as the record works best as a whole; I like the way the two discs kind of mirror and comment on each other, too, the second serving as a more mellow, laidback counterpoint to the first (until its closing number). One of the key things about Wilco, I think, is that they're fantastic songwriters - the melodies often aren't particularly immediate, and even once they've emerged are frequently far from memorable, but the songs stick with you.
On another note, while browsing in Readings last night, I heard "I Am Trying To Break Your Heart" and the song caught me a little bit, making me think that the time might be ripe for me to reassess YHF (a pity that I no longer have a copy of it...although something suddenly makes me think that I might still have it after all - will need to dig around and have a look for the cd. I know that I have a tape of the documentary, which I'll presumably get round to watching one day, somewhere in my room)...
Friday, May 13, 2005
Daniel Clowes - Ghost World
At first, I was liking this very much less than the film (which may have had something to do with the fact that I read the first bit while balancing it in one hand and photocopying stuff with the other, buried in the bowels of the Baillieu), but I got into it more and more as it went on, and, after finishing it on the bus heading home, ended up going through the whole thing again later the same night (last night). I think that the initial response was mostly born of the fact that the characters in the graphic novel are much less attractive than their filmic representatives; much of the appeal of the film is that Enid and Rebecca are such beautiful drifters and, even allowing for the differences between graphic art and real people, Thora Birch and Scarlett Johansson these illustrations ain't. Perhaps even more importantly, the world as a whole is a much more washed-out place in the comic - apart from the black and white of the line drawings, the only colour is a sort of pale unvarying turquoise, giving proceedings an air of perpetual twilight.
But - let's face it - the comic is far more true to life. The Enid of the comics isn't unbearably cool, and its Rebecca isn't impossibly gamine and doe-like, but really, neither are people who act and talk like this in 'real life', just as lives such as these aren't lived in vivid daubs of technicolour and intangible sparkle. And there's something about the comics that makes me want to read them over and over despite the unprettiness - a lot seems to take place between the panels, and the disjointedness of some of the transitions is apt to the floating 'ghost world' Clowes renders. They may be grittier than the film, and consequently have evoked less of a response from me, but these comics share an undefinable edge which, if anything, cuts deeper (though less personally profoundly) than their cinematic adaptation.
But - let's face it - the comic is far more true to life. The Enid of the comics isn't unbearably cool, and its Rebecca isn't impossibly gamine and doe-like, but really, neither are people who act and talk like this in 'real life', just as lives such as these aren't lived in vivid daubs of technicolour and intangible sparkle. And there's something about the comics that makes me want to read them over and over despite the unprettiness - a lot seems to take place between the panels, and the disjointedness of some of the transitions is apt to the floating 'ghost world' Clowes renders. They may be grittier than the film, and consequently have evoked less of a response from me, but these comics share an undefinable edge which, if anything, cuts deeper (though less personally profoundly) than their cinematic adaptation.
Downfall
Agreed to see this with Kevin before realising that it would interrupt my Three Colours sequence, but oh well - I haven't really been in the mood to watch Red (or, for that matter, anything else) these last few nights anyway. Anyway, I thought that it was very good. What do I know about the historical events it portrays? Practically nothing. But nonetheless I felt very strongly that there was a sort of verisimilitude to its representation of those last days in the bunker in Berlin - the film had an almost documentary feel, an impression perhaps augmented by (a) the absence of any overtly cinematic or artistic narrative thread (it's depiction rather than story); and (b) (compensating for (a)) my basic familiarity - no doubt shared by everyone who has watched Downfall - with its subject matter (figures like Himmler, Goebbels, Eva Braun and, needless to say, Hitler himself are instantly recognisable - and of course we all know how this story ends).
I don't really buy into the idea that, by depicting Hitler as human, and capable of human affection and so on, this film somehow runs the risk of inspiring sympathy (or even pity) for him, and of glossing over the unquestionable evil of his deeds. It's a tricky one to work through all the way, though. It's true that he's portrayed believably, and as possessing at least flashes of what we might call humanity (most notably his affection for those of his staff who he believes have not betrayed him), and the spectre of the Jews falls relatively lightly on the film (although the question is certainly not entirely glossed over). However, this does not a sympathetic portrayal make, and I find it hard to imagine that a film such as this could inspire sympathy for Hitler in any way which we might account harmful.
All of which goes to show how much of an exercise in sifting through associations is watching this film - watching it, one is always and inescapably watching a film about Hitler and the collapse of his regime. It would be futile to view Downfall separately from its historical basis - to try to judge it 'on its merits' as a work of art, separate from its subject matter, would be to miss the point. There's something I want to say but the words aren't quite coming out. It's something like: if a film with this storyline had been made, but not explicitly based on the last days of Hitler and his inner circle, nevertheless we would have recognised the story in it and viewed it accordingly. What can I really say about this film apart from describing its effect? I hardly noticed the acting, or the cinematography - which makes me think that both were probably excellent, or at least excellently apt, in that they were believable enough to make the experience seamless. As to its effect: it engrossed me from start to finish. Like I said, I think that it was very good - whatever that may mean in this context.
I don't really buy into the idea that, by depicting Hitler as human, and capable of human affection and so on, this film somehow runs the risk of inspiring sympathy (or even pity) for him, and of glossing over the unquestionable evil of his deeds. It's a tricky one to work through all the way, though. It's true that he's portrayed believably, and as possessing at least flashes of what we might call humanity (most notably his affection for those of his staff who he believes have not betrayed him), and the spectre of the Jews falls relatively lightly on the film (although the question is certainly not entirely glossed over). However, this does not a sympathetic portrayal make, and I find it hard to imagine that a film such as this could inspire sympathy for Hitler in any way which we might account harmful.
All of which goes to show how much of an exercise in sifting through associations is watching this film - watching it, one is always and inescapably watching a film about Hitler and the collapse of his regime. It would be futile to view Downfall separately from its historical basis - to try to judge it 'on its merits' as a work of art, separate from its subject matter, would be to miss the point. There's something I want to say but the words aren't quite coming out. It's something like: if a film with this storyline had been made, but not explicitly based on the last days of Hitler and his inner circle, nevertheless we would have recognised the story in it and viewed it accordingly. What can I really say about this film apart from describing its effect? I hardly noticed the acting, or the cinematography - which makes me think that both were probably excellent, or at least excellently apt, in that they were believable enough to make the experience seamless. As to its effect: it engrossed me from start to finish. Like I said, I think that it was very good - whatever that may mean in this context.
Thomas Harris - Red Dragon
Somehow this ended up in my collection a while back, and I've just finished it for the second time (I really need to buy more books, if only to give myself more choice of reading material in the small hours of the morning). I don't read much of this kind of stuff, but it's competent enough - fast-paced, grey-shaded and unnerving in places.
Thursday, May 12, 2005
First Fictions: Introduction 13
A collection of short fiction - I picked it up from a secondhand discount bin at some point last year, or the year before. Can't remember why any more; possibly something had leapt out at me from whichever page I'd happened to open it up to. Anyway, it seems to be a volume from a periodical of some sort put out by Faber & Faber (1997); I'd never got around to reading it before now.
I don't really know anything about any of the writers represented, although I have a feeling that I've heard Elliot Perlman's name recently (possibly there's been a film adapatation of one of his books?). Four of his stories are included, and they're quite good - terse and adept in drawing out the sadness of the everyday (it didn't surprise me to learn from the biographical notes that he's a lawyer - he writes like one), and about people trying to get by. Art Corriveau's, haunted by death, are in a similar vein, and are probably my favourites in the book. As to the others, Keith Ridgway is represented by a single, rather Winton-esque novella-length piece, "Horses" (okay but not brilliant), and there are four Hannah Crow stories which I have a feeling might be quite good but don't have the stomach to tackle just now (jumpy, fragmented, semi-stream of consciousness, long paragraphs, etc).
I don't really know anything about any of the writers represented, although I have a feeling that I've heard Elliot Perlman's name recently (possibly there's been a film adapatation of one of his books?). Four of his stories are included, and they're quite good - terse and adept in drawing out the sadness of the everyday (it didn't surprise me to learn from the biographical notes that he's a lawyer - he writes like one), and about people trying to get by. Art Corriveau's, haunted by death, are in a similar vein, and are probably my favourites in the book. As to the others, Keith Ridgway is represented by a single, rather Winton-esque novella-length piece, "Horses" (okay but not brilliant), and there are four Hannah Crow stories which I have a feeling might be quite good but don't have the stomach to tackle just now (jumpy, fragmented, semi-stream of consciousness, long paragraphs, etc).
Sunday, May 08, 2005
The Wilco Book
A handsome volume, laid out in true postmodern style with bits and pieces everywhere (often bits and pieces which seem to have little or no connection to anything else), but it's fun, rather than frustrating, to browse (probably because there's a pretty clear, conventional structure underlying all the odd juxtapositions and unlikely collage effects).
The band come across very much as musicians' musicians - much musing about the song-writing/recording process, and the joys and perils of playing live, as well the many loving photos of, and burblings about, guitars, percussion, amps and other equipment, are ample evidence of that - and also seem very thoughtful about what they do (although, wisely, they shy away from over-intellectualising the process too much).
Elsewhere, Rick Moody writes a high-falutin', excessively pretentious and really rather insightful piece about 'five songs', one from each album (scoring major Howard-points by picking "She's A Jar" from Summerteeth); random/purposeful bits of art (done by the band/related to the music and otherwise) and scientific schematics are interspersed throughout; the margins are filled by all kinds of ephemera, including a haiku written by the bass player ("They sit listening/Then a bit of conferring/Zen Palate again?"); and so forth.
The band come across very much as musicians' musicians - much musing about the song-writing/recording process, and the joys and perils of playing live, as well the many loving photos of, and burblings about, guitars, percussion, amps and other equipment, are ample evidence of that - and also seem very thoughtful about what they do (although, wisely, they shy away from over-intellectualising the process too much).
Elsewhere, Rick Moody writes a high-falutin', excessively pretentious and really rather insightful piece about 'five songs', one from each album (scoring major Howard-points by picking "She's A Jar" from Summerteeth); random/purposeful bits of art (done by the band/related to the music and otherwise) and scientific schematics are interspersed throughout; the margins are filled by all kinds of ephemera, including a haiku written by the bass player ("They sit listening/Then a bit of conferring/Zen Palate again?"); and so forth.
Acoustic
It was always way optimistic to imagine that a double cd set including acts as well-known as Radiohead, Nick Drake, Jeff Buckley, Aimee Mann, Mercury Rev, Doves, Coldplay, Dido and so on would be made up of acoustic versions of their often iconic songs, even if it was called 'Acoustic'. Anyway, that optimism having indeed proved to be misplaced, and the set instead being made up of the original recordings of these songs, I now find myself in possession of 36 songs' worth of polite, mostly contemporary cafe music, a solid one-third of which I already had in my collection, one way or another. Of the ones I wasn't already familiar with, only Grandaddy's "So You'll Aim Towards The Sky" and Morcheeba's "Part Of The Process" have really stood out, though the set as a whole tends towards homogeneity, so that I wouldn't be surprised if there were a few more good ones buried amidst all the restrained strumming and gentle trip-hop beats.
Interjection 5: Connections
It struck me a couple of days ago that the song "Ghost World" on Bachelor No 2 must be a Clowes reference; having made that connection, I realised how perfectly Mann's typically bitter-sweet tune captures that same sense of alienation, of hanging around and watching summers waste away. The realisation made me happy - the splendidness of Ghost World the film is still fresh in my mind and "Ghost World" the song is one of the high points on one of my favourite albums, and it satisfies my sense of rightness that there should be such a close connection between the two.
Though it's rare for the connection/relationship to be as precisely apt as this one, I've come across similar links between favourites of mine from time to time. The only one I can think of just now is the smashing edition of Alice's Adventures In Wonderland/Through The Looking Glass I found a while ago, illustrated by Mervyn Peake (a perfect match, for mine) and, moreover, printed with introductions by Zadie Smith (perfect in a different way) and Will Self (less perfect, but still someone whose stuff I came across independently and quite enjoyed, if not to the extent of anything else I've mentioned in this entry).
[7/9/17: an edit to move the last para to a new home]
Though it's rare for the connection/relationship to be as precisely apt as this one, I've come across similar links between favourites of mine from time to time. The only one I can think of just now is the smashing edition of Alice's Adventures In Wonderland/Through The Looking Glass I found a while ago, illustrated by Mervyn Peake (a perfect match, for mine) and, moreover, printed with introductions by Zadie Smith (perfect in a different way) and Will Self (less perfect, but still someone whose stuff I came across independently and quite enjoyed, if not to the extent of anything else I've mentioned in this entry).
[7/9/17: an edit to move the last para to a new home]
Saturday, May 07, 2005
Three Colours: White
White is very different from its companion pieces - lighter in tone (appropriately enough given its colour theme) and distinctively sardonic in flavour, and, unlike Blue and Red, not really about anything larger than its immediate concerns. These factors probably had a lot to do with White being, for me, the least immediately appealing of the three, and its remaining my least favourite upon repeated viewings. Still, that's hardly a damning criticism given how much I like Blue and Red, and White has plenty going for it in its own right.
For me, White really works - and works well - on the level of amusement. The film as a whole amuses me in the way that things which are light and weighty at the same time often do; the characters are interesting enough, and things move on rapidly enough, to hold my interest (although it's a bit choppy at times - odd, when Kieslowski's films are normally practically paeans to fine editing). Moreover, watching it with the theme of 'equality' in mind adds another layer to proceedings (though again, not as much as in Blue and Red), and the colour white is used wittily throughout in the cinematography and settings. All of that said, though, I don't think that I could really watch this one over and over and continue to enjoy it.
For me, White really works - and works well - on the level of amusement. The film as a whole amuses me in the way that things which are light and weighty at the same time often do; the characters are interesting enough, and things move on rapidly enough, to hold my interest (although it's a bit choppy at times - odd, when Kieslowski's films are normally practically paeans to fine editing). Moreover, watching it with the theme of 'equality' in mind adds another layer to proceedings (though again, not as much as in Blue and Red), and the colour white is used wittily throughout in the cinematography and settings. All of that said, though, I don't think that I could really watch this one over and over and continue to enjoy it.
Thursday, May 05, 2005
Amélie Nothomb - The Book of Proper Names
Another wonderfully tart Nothomb fable - they slide down so easily, and I suspect them to be addictive (I don't know how I'm going to cope with losing the near-instant gratification of all literary desires provided by the university library systems). This seems to be her latest (it's certainly her latest in English translation), and she's shucked off much of the annoying preciousness which marred her earlier writing. As a result, the book (at 122 widely-spaced pages, it's hardly a novel) is pleasingly taut - slender and well-formed, or words to that effect - and the moments of whimsy work better (including the amusing, unbalancing metafictional entry of Amélie Nothomb late in the piece). The flipside is that it's slightly lacking in zest, but tis still très bien.
Three Colours: Blue
Having splashed out and bought the collectors edition of Kieslowski's amazing Three Colours trilogy, this seems a good opportunity to sit down and watch the three in close succession and to set down a few thoughts about each along the way...
It starts, appropriately enough, with Blue, blue for liberty - the first in the trilogy, the first that I saw, whose soundtrack I can listen to over and over, and to which I respond in a way that no other film comes even close to evoking. Suffused in blue, it's a film of immense subtlety and visual and emotional depth; so much is unsaid but so much is conveyed and suggested. I always find watching it to be an incredibly rich experience, heart-piercing and uplifting all at once - it's oblique and stylish to the point of stylisation, and somehow this adds to its insight and truthfulness. Every image is exquisite and many linger in the mind (especially the scene in which Julie physically abrades herself, dragging her fist along a stone wall as she almost runs alongside it, all sorts of things written in her face), the music is gorgeous (and central), Juliette Binoche is remarkable...
I think that Blue might be the most perfect film I've ever seen.
It starts, appropriately enough, with Blue, blue for liberty - the first in the trilogy, the first that I saw, whose soundtrack I can listen to over and over, and to which I respond in a way that no other film comes even close to evoking. Suffused in blue, it's a film of immense subtlety and visual and emotional depth; so much is unsaid but so much is conveyed and suggested. I always find watching it to be an incredibly rich experience, heart-piercing and uplifting all at once - it's oblique and stylish to the point of stylisation, and somehow this adds to its insight and truthfulness. Every image is exquisite and many linger in the mind (especially the scene in which Julie physically abrades herself, dragging her fist along a stone wall as she almost runs alongside it, all sorts of things written in her face), the music is gorgeous (and central), Juliette Binoche is remarkable...
I think that Blue might be the most perfect film I've ever seen.
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
I was all prepared to be a hard marker with this one - I didn't see how the books could translate effectively to film, I'd seen the filmic Marvin and thought he was way too cute, and hey, they're messing with literature for which I've had some serious love in the past (and which, for better or for worse, has definitely left its mark on me). But the initial sequence with the dolphins went a long way to winning me over, and I thoroughly enjoyed the rest of the film - it wasn't uniformly funny, but there were no 'down' or dull parts for me, either.
Oddly given my expectations (but perhaps not so oddly in another sense), I think that this was a film best appreciated by those who are familiar with the books (and, presumably the radio/tv series, neither of which I know much about) which comprised its source material - that kind of familiarity gives the film a richness and a sense of unifiedness that I suspect would otherwise have been lacking. This works in a global sense (grasping what it's all about), from scene to scene (anticipating the payoffs with jokes and planted clues, such as the two mice, say, and enjoying the added scenes like the strangely hilarious idea-discouraging spades buried in the sand of Vogsphere...the subliminal joke there being that the Vogons, as bureaucrats, of course never have any original ideas...of which there are a surprising, and effective, number), and on the level of minutiae (David pointed out to me afterwards that the original tv-series Marvin actually got a cameo in the film).
I thought (again somewhat against expectations) that everyone looked right - Arthur and Trillian certainly, Mos Def as Ford Prefect made sense immediately (though I'd always visualised him as a Harrison Ford/Han Solo type, for regrettably obvious reasons), Zaphod was good once I got over the disappointment of where his second head was (ingenious enough but I would've liked them side by side on his neck), Slartibartfast was perfect, and as to Marvin, well, it wasn't as I'd always imagined him but I didn't find the change too offensive and it worked in its own way. Overall, I felt that the Adams feel was preserved quite well - the special effects were both impressive and somehow dinky, and the Python-esque feel of the whole was appropriate enough (and let's not forget the improbability drive-induced craziness which was actually shown). So, no complaints in these parts - this is jolly good.
Oddly given my expectations (but perhaps not so oddly in another sense), I think that this was a film best appreciated by those who are familiar with the books (and, presumably the radio/tv series, neither of which I know much about) which comprised its source material - that kind of familiarity gives the film a richness and a sense of unifiedness that I suspect would otherwise have been lacking. This works in a global sense (grasping what it's all about), from scene to scene (anticipating the payoffs with jokes and planted clues, such as the two mice, say, and enjoying the added scenes like the strangely hilarious idea-discouraging spades buried in the sand of Vogsphere...the subliminal joke there being that the Vogons, as bureaucrats, of course never have any original ideas...of which there are a surprising, and effective, number), and on the level of minutiae (David pointed out to me afterwards that the original tv-series Marvin actually got a cameo in the film).
I thought (again somewhat against expectations) that everyone looked right - Arthur and Trillian certainly, Mos Def as Ford Prefect made sense immediately (though I'd always visualised him as a Harrison Ford/Han Solo type, for regrettably obvious reasons), Zaphod was good once I got over the disappointment of where his second head was (ingenious enough but I would've liked them side by side on his neck), Slartibartfast was perfect, and as to Marvin, well, it wasn't as I'd always imagined him but I didn't find the change too offensive and it worked in its own way. Overall, I felt that the Adams feel was preserved quite well - the special effects were both impressive and somehow dinky, and the Python-esque feel of the whole was appropriate enough (and let's not forget the improbability drive-induced craziness which was actually shown). So, no complaints in these parts - this is jolly good.
"Excuse me...who are you?": Perfect Blue
I've never quite been able to work out why, but people often expect me to be into anime - they seem to feel that it'd be consonant with my other tastes, my personality, or possibly both. Truth be told, anime isn't a particularly big thing for me at all - sometimes I come across one that I like (not that I've seen more than half a dozen or so), but I don't generally have strong feelings either way.
Perfect Blue was pretty good, though. It's well-plotted and structured, and definitely kept me disoriented and guessing throughout (and had me thinking about it well after the closing reel, which isn't always the case with these kinds of perspective-shifting thriller type films...I'm still not sure of the significance/'reality'/nature of certain key scenes). It was psychologically sophisticated enough to keep things interesting (although the sophistication arose more from the ingenuity of the screenplay than from any particular psychological insight), and the stylish (stylised) animated format seemed particularly suited to the film's shifts and inversions between reality and fantasy, adding an extra layer of disconnectedness. Neat.
Perfect Blue was pretty good, though. It's well-plotted and structured, and definitely kept me disoriented and guessing throughout (and had me thinking about it well after the closing reel, which isn't always the case with these kinds of perspective-shifting thriller type films...I'm still not sure of the significance/'reality'/nature of certain key scenes). It was psychologically sophisticated enough to keep things interesting (although the sophistication arose more from the ingenuity of the screenplay than from any particular psychological insight), and the stylish (stylised) animated format seemed particularly suited to the film's shifts and inversions between reality and fantasy, adding an extra layer of disconnectedness. Neat.
Sunday, May 01, 2005
Azure Ray - Hold on Love
One of the things about being excited by music that isn't terribly well known (but still well known enough to make its way into the shops) is that while paying $35 for an import or difficult-to-find disc is not unusual, it's just as frequently possible to pick up a potential gem for something more in the vicinity of $5, which happens to be exactly what I paid for both Long Shot Novena and, a couple of days later, this disc, Azure Ray's Hold on Love (to be honest, I probably wouldn't have paid any more for either of them).
As it happens, while I wouldn't quite go so far as to call Hold on Love a gem, it's a more than pleasant listen: hushed, sombre, downbeat, and oh so pretty (for the most part, it's just two girls sing-murmuring to the accompaniment of piano, acoustic guitar and muted programmed tones), Azure Ray takes some of its cues from contemporary gothic-inflected folksters like Will Oldham, and some from indie-pop of the precious/wistful stripe, and comes up with something sweet and occasionally haunting. Favourite songs at the moment are "We Are Mice" and "Look To Me"; the Saint Etienne-esque "If You Fall", while unrepresentative of the album's overall mood, is also very nice.
As it happens, while I wouldn't quite go so far as to call Hold on Love a gem, it's a more than pleasant listen: hushed, sombre, downbeat, and oh so pretty (for the most part, it's just two girls sing-murmuring to the accompaniment of piano, acoustic guitar and muted programmed tones), Azure Ray takes some of its cues from contemporary gothic-inflected folksters like Will Oldham, and some from indie-pop of the precious/wistful stripe, and comes up with something sweet and occasionally haunting. Favourite songs at the moment are "We Are Mice" and "Look To Me"; the Saint Etienne-esque "If You Fall", while unrepresentative of the album's overall mood, is also very nice.
The Last of the Mohicans
Had the impression that this was a cut above the standard period adventure film (I must have seen it back in high school) and so persevered despite the poor picture quality and muffled sound of the tape of it that I'd borrowed. It is good, too. I suspect that it stuck in my mind mainly because it contains a couple of motifs that preoccupied me during those years (most prominently the way in which Alice, really quite a minor character, goes to her death), but it's very strong across the board: all the elements - exciting set-pieces, sweep, pace, good acting, magnificent cinematography, heart-tugging music - are there.
"Bill Henson: 3 Decades of Photography" @ NGV Australia
Checked this out (with Wei) because the shadows and broodiness which dominate the examples of Henson's photography used in the ads seemed likely to be my bag. Having now been through the eight rooms of the exhibition, covering the whole of his career, my strongest impression is that that interplay of light and dark is fundamental to Henson's work, whether brought to bear on his characteristic long-limbed, sombre-transported adolescents, urban crowd scenes, or cloud-dominated landscapes. It's all very expressionistic, and there are hints of decadence and the gothic scattered throughout, as well as a distinct swell of romanticism (if my Lit degree has been good for nothing else, it's at least taught me to distinguish between some of these terms - and, obviously, to write sentences completely weighed down by them).
I particularly liked the series of paired, chemically manipulated images (apparently gelatin silver photographs, laid down in lead...whatever that means) which were mostly girl/decayed architecture, and the vistas in which the outlines and forms of clouds trace, highlight and shade into semi-silhouetted trees and muted, branded buildings; wasn't so keen on the crowd scenes or the cityscapes. The often eroticised adolescents were a bit of a mixed bag - the ones focusing on the body were compelling, particularly when taken as a whole, but less so once the novelty wore off, and the fragmented cut-ups, in which pairs or groups of Henson's semi-naked subjects are posed or juxtaposed in darkness against both nature-landscapes and man-made structures (I was amused that Wei didn't linger in the room containing those ones), were striking but a bit strident for my tastes.
I particularly liked the series of paired, chemically manipulated images (apparently gelatin silver photographs, laid down in lead...whatever that means) which were mostly girl/decayed architecture, and the vistas in which the outlines and forms of clouds trace, highlight and shade into semi-silhouetted trees and muted, branded buildings; wasn't so keen on the crowd scenes or the cityscapes. The often eroticised adolescents were a bit of a mixed bag - the ones focusing on the body were compelling, particularly when taken as a whole, but less so once the novelty wore off, and the fragmented cut-ups, in which pairs or groups of Henson's semi-naked subjects are posed or juxtaposed in darkness against both nature-landscapes and man-made structures (I was amused that Wei didn't linger in the room containing those ones), were striking but a bit strident for my tastes.
Philip Pullman - Northern Lights
I started looking for this, the first book in Pullman's "His Dark Materials" series, after seeing it on a few lists of books/films/music which also contained a number of my personal icons, so I had every expectation of enjoying it, and it is very good; though it's ostensibly 'childrens' literature' (Paradise Lost-referencing series title notwithstanding), I imagine that a large part of these books' fanbase would be people in similar headspaces to myself.
The basic genre is fantasy, and it's pretty heady stuff given its supposed target audience (which is all to the good) - not as dark as the Borrible trilogy, say (though, on the evidence of Northern Lights, equally good), but a significant step further into the shadows than the Harry Potter books (not that I've read beyond halfway through the first of those). The reader spends a large part of the first fifty pages or so in the dark as to what's going on (a deliberate move on the author's part), but once things begin to coalesce, they do so richly and satisfyingly, gradually revealing the breadth of Pullman's imagination. The plot moves forward at a fair clip, aided by crisp, largely cliché-free writing and good dialogue, and the characters are unobtrusively but fully drawn. I have a feeling that the series has been quite acclaimed; if so, then the pundits have definitely got it right with this one.
The basic genre is fantasy, and it's pretty heady stuff given its supposed target audience (which is all to the good) - not as dark as the Borrible trilogy, say (though, on the evidence of Northern Lights, equally good), but a significant step further into the shadows than the Harry Potter books (not that I've read beyond halfway through the first of those). The reader spends a large part of the first fifty pages or so in the dark as to what's going on (a deliberate move on the author's part), but once things begin to coalesce, they do so richly and satisfyingly, gradually revealing the breadth of Pullman's imagination. The plot moves forward at a fair clip, aided by crisp, largely cliché-free writing and good dialogue, and the characters are unobtrusively but fully drawn. I have a feeling that the series has been quite acclaimed; if so, then the pundits have definitely got it right with this one.
"Cyclops"
A mix cd from David. On first, tracklist-less listen, it struck me as a bit conceptual, though I was at a loss as to what the concept actually was; later, David mentioned that it was somewhat 'ill-formed', which may go some way to explaining that initial response. So, basically a collection of indie rock, with the highlight and track most frequently on repeat being Iggy Pop's "The Passenger" (seguing neatly from Bowie's "The Man Who Sold The World" - in fact, the whole mix flows well), although aforementioned Bowie and Talking Heads' live "Electricity (Drugs)"/"Drugs (Electricity) double are naturally also fab and John Mayer's cover of "Kid A" unexpectedly has considerable merit even apart from the intrinsic quality of the song (which is just as well, since I have my doubts about the 'intrinsic quality' of "Kid A" as a song, as opposed to as a piece of music); the Spoon cut, "Revenge", is also good.
Eileen Rose - Long Shot Novena
More diverse and murkier (not to mention somewhat more fraught) than I'd expected based on the small handful of Rose's songs that I'd heard before (one of which, the bluesy six-minute ballad "Good Man", is on here), Long Shot Novena is rather good. Kicking off auspiciously with the sonorous acoustics of its title track, the album really starts to move with its next song, "See How I Need You", quirky, sinuous and swampy, and thereafter traverses a range of other folk/roots/rock stylings in fine style...without ever threatening to change my world, a solid, engaging listen from start to finish (the knees-up, tempo-shifting, jew's harp-underlaid, country stomp/shuffle closer, "Big Dog", is another highlight).
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