Prisoners

I think it got into my head that I should watch this because of an intriguing review that I read while it was cinemas, which used the old 'don't know too much about this film before you watch it' hook. Well, it's good, but gods is it grim - tense and claustrophobic, to the extent that it feels like a horror film at times, and brutal too. Well made, strong cast in excellent form, and it did keep me watching to the end - but if I'd known what it was going to be, I probably would've avoided this one.

Amaya Laucirica - Sway

When opening song "Three Heart Delay" washes in, it's like the aural equivalent of the expanding flavour of a good red wine, or some truffles maybe - accompanied by the same enveloping pleasure and sense of wellbeing. Like truffles - although, it must be admitted, even in this year of living cleanly, not always like red wine - the song's a scene-setter (stretching the metaphor, more a small entree than a mere amuse-bouche) rather than a main course; what follows is another ten songs of much loveliness, at times all drifty and dreamy, and at others more on the upbeat side. v.g.

(This being, of course, the follow-up to the much-loved-by-me Early Summer from a few years back.)

Ruth Ozeki - A Tale for the Time Being

I liked this one and its treatment of the mysteries of time, narrative, agency and day to day life, though for mine it was perhaps a bit too straight up in its thematising of what were admittedly some inherently complex subjects and ideas, and perhaps overly engineered in structure (although maybe that was unavoidable).

Also, book club rides again (inaugural attendees this time round were Ash, Cass, Meribah, Erandathie, Jade, Nicolette and Kelly) and voila from my post-meeting wrap: 

... impressively, everyone enjoyed the book, in some cases a bit against expectations. There were different views about how likeable some of the characters were (notably Oliver), but I'm pretty sure everyone liked Nao. For some of us, the fantastic elements not only made sense but were integral; for others, they were an obstacle to enjoyment. Either way, the events of the novel and 'what's it all about' were equally mind-bending - and also poignant, even if the impact of the harrowing experiences suffered by Nao seemed oddly filtered, at least to some of us.

We talked about how Ruth's (the character, as distinct from the author Ruth - or is she?) unreliability as a narrator conditions our understanding of what's transpiring between the pages (pages within the pages - Haruki #1's letters, Nao's diary, Ruth's annotations, A Tale For The Time Being). There were certainly plenty of interesting parallels across the two sets of narratives - Ruth's and Nao's. And we figured that Ruth Ozeki actually being a Buddhist nun may not have been completely irrelevant to the Buddhist feel of the novel itself.

Plus, appropriately for a novel interested in how narrative can affect the external world, we ranged well beyond the confines of the book to take in bullying, religion, suicide, Japanese culture generally and, of course, clams.

Godzilla

I think what I forgot in my pre-watching enthusiasm for this one is that, actually, the monster movie isn't particularly one of my favourite genres. Nonetheless, and even though I'd call it good rather than great, this Godzilla held my attention, with a combination of satisfying creature effects and destruction and some strikingly poetic and beautiful visuals, like the sequence where a group of military types parachutes down into a smokily ruined city (that last a hallmark of director Gareth Edwards' previous, Monsters).

(w/ Julian + his friend Darcy)

The Hidden Fortress

Screening as part of ACMI's 'samurai season', this early (1958) Kurosawa is much fun. It starts with, and follows, two peasants who are almost absurdly venal and selfish, and so hapless with it that they end up even calling to mind Vladimir and Estragon, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern (Stoppard's not Shakespeare's), though without any of the tragic humanity of either of those pairs; equally enjoyable is Toshiro Mifune as the samurai general who quickly cows them - I wouldn't have minded more samurai action, but what there was, was satisfying enough - as they become entangled, together with a spunky princess in hiding, with an enemy army, a large stockpile of gold, and sundries.

(w/ David)

"Night on Bald Mountain" (Malthouse)

A good one, if both bleak and oblique. Australian Gothic with a Beckettian edge that includes a touch of the grotesque, edged around with startling humour. Mounted on a great set, and strongly performed; incidentally, my first exposure to Patrick White.

(w/ Cass and Meribah - Anna F also there)

Lykke Li - I Never Learn

Somehow I always expect Lykke Li's songs - and albums (Youth Novels, Wounded Rhymes) - to be more immediate than they actually are. It's probably the way they sound, all pop and everything - when in fact, pretty often the choruses aren't actually as hooky as you expect they're going to be, so it takes a few listens (for me, at least) to realise that despite that seeming deficit, there are a lot of pleasures to be had here.

Her latest, I Never Learn, is no exception. It starts promisingly, with the deep strumming that leads into the opening, title cut and as a whole feels nicely balanced and just the right length at nine tracks altogether. Highlights are the climbing "Just Like A Dream" (in the marquee 'track 3' position), the right-in-her-sweet-spot "Gunshot", "Love Me Like I'm Not Made Of Stone"'s stripped-back plea (even the title's a little bit heartbreaking) and "Never Gonna Love Again", which, rapturous-sounding but, again, lovelorn, is basically her take on a hands-in-the-air anthem.

William Blake / Wang Gongxin @ NGV International

William Blake

There's something about religious imagery and, if you like, mythology that has captured my imagination for as long as I can remember, certainly going back to primary school days, and while that's waned over the years (as my tastes have moved more in an intellectual, artistic and humanistic direction), this exhibition of a large number of pieces from the NGV's collection of his - often fragile - works reminded me of that old sense of wonder. (The relief etching - 'illuminated printing' - technique that he apparently invented is impressive.)

That was particularly the case for the watercolours for the Divine Comedy, depicting Dante and Virgil's journey through the circles of Hell and then on through Purgatory and Paradise, many done in pen and watercolour over pencil, and with a strong air of the fantastic - and, of course, the very finely detailed engravings depicting the Book of Job, interwoven with Blake's own personal and seemingly rather spiritualistic mythology.

But actually my favourites were the tiny pages (leaves) from his Songs of Innocence - green ink, finished in watercolour, words and images finely matched (and, it must be said, at times reminding me of Edward Gorey).

Wang Gongxin

Three large-scale 2010 video installations. The first one that I walked into, "Relating - it's all about Ya", was my favourite - nine large panels ('channels') showing a series of projections, scored by related sounds, hung around a large room and in such a way that it's not possible to see all of them at once as the images cascade across the screens (leaves and branches in the wind, bellies wobbling, close-ups of clothing). The others were less striking - "Basic colour", give screens with close-ups of parts of the body on which coloured pigment gradually drizzles, and "The dinner table", an installed table tilted at an angle from the surface of which the crockery, food, etc gradually slides.

Angela Meyer - Captives

A small book of short short stories, most clocking in at around 200 words. The style is crisp, contemporary, apparently transparent yet also oblique - slices of life shot through with undercurrents and haunted (text as much as subtext) by captivity in various forms, and also by death. Some are on the insubstantial side - 'overdetermined' seems an odd descriptions for pieces so brief, but in a few cases, for mine, there isn't enough there to support the weightiness that seems to be intended. But overall a very pleasing collection, filled with hooks to snag the attention, by turns vivid, cryptic, poignant - sometimes all three at once - and achieving a cumulative effect rather like that which arises while reading a collection of poetry; two that I particularly liked were the Van Gogh one near the start and the vignette between a girl and her boyfriend's brother where they talk about past lives.

Emmylou Harris - White Shoes

One of her minor 80s-period records, though "On the Radio" (a Donna Summer cover, remarkably) is nice.

Idol again; music (reprises)

I. A few weeks ago, almost home, walking into the sun, everything hazy, Dido in my ears and all around ("Here With Me", or maybe "White Flag"?) - a moment.

II. Impossible to overstate how much Radiohead's music has meant to me ever since forever, and even when - as lately - I'm not particularly listening to them nor keeping up with new releases, it's too close and too large to see. So it was something to be reminded, twice in a week or so, of the piercing immediacy that their songs can have for me, the pure emotional response - the once through "High and Dry" over the closing montage of a Newsroom episode, the other via Jena Irene on Idol knocking "Creep" out of the park.

III. Also, of course, it's exactly the kind of thing to which I'm most susceptible, but Irene's "Can't Help Falling in Love" last night was my favourite performance by anyone on the show this year.

It's a prime example of the sort of 'American Idol' performance that I was fretting about damaging my musical sensibilities through the simplicity of how it evokes a response, but those concerns seem beside the point when the music itself just goes directly into my spine. (I think the Friday night timing helps too - my critical barriers having been thoroughly eroded by the week gone by.)

IV. For me, with all music, it's always in large part been about melody, and the classics of the pop songbook have probably never loomed larger than these days; in fact, that's another of the pleasures of American Idol - hearing contemporary versions of undeniably great songs.

V. Speaking of classics, and just as an aside, Willie Nelson's "Always On My Mind" has been on high rotation lately.

VI. The new year's resolution about running has stuck, despite some significant adversity with demanding new job etc (and the cold weather will be the next challenge). An incidental benefit: a new type of experience of music, including a few times on the pick-up as I round the bend along the path at the south-east corner of the Carlton Gardens (on a recent occasion, Asobi Seksu's "Thursday" - perfect). Also while lying on the ground stretching afterwards, again in the gardens and often at night, Bill Henson-esque scapes overhead. Change, continuity.

Buddy Miller - Your Love and Other Lies / Buddy Miller & Jim Lauderdale - Buddy and Jim

The top and most recent tail of Miller's solo/eponymous recording career - Your Love and Other Lies from 1995 and Buddy and Jim from 2012. And, as it happens, I think these two round out on my own retrospective listening tour of his records - these were the last two for me, and they attest to how consistent, and consistently good he's been throughout. Your Love and Other Lies has a quietly classic air to it, while the collaboration with Jim Lauderdale (a regular musical partner in any case) rollicks a bit more. Both growers.

Matt Zoller Seitz - The Wes Anderson Collection

One heck of a good coffee table book. Short essays and extended interviews with Anderson himself about each of his films up to and including Moonrise Kingdom, with generous amounts of miscellany - screen shots (including some illuminating side by side comparisons with scenes from films that have inspired Anderson), shooting-related material like early scripts, sketches, concept art and story board outtakes, a range of more tangential but interesting photos and graphics (eg a Cousteau gallery, to shed more light on The Life Aquatic), and some very fitting art by Max Dalton (the double-page spreads for each of the individual films are a highlight). Anderson himself emerges as a thoughtful and humble artist, engaged with his own process but not particularly wrapped up in any kind of auteur mystique; also, the French new wave influence is obvious once it's pointed out!

Clay Shirky - Cognitive Surplus: Creativity and Generosity in a Connected Age

While reading this, I was thinking that while I broadly agree with much of what this book identifies as characteristic of our times, and specifically the shift that's occurred in our engagement with media in today's broadened sense (the analysis early on about the change from what Shirky calls 'Gutenberg economics', driven by the high investment costs of needing to own the means of production in order to produce media, to the click and publish avenues available today, is particularly convincing), I'm more sceptical about the vaguely utopian tinge of the possibilities that it identifies for the use of the new resource of 'cognitive surplus' arising from the existence of copious free time along with the 'means' (technological), 'motive' (drawing on behavioural economics insights about social motivations), 'opportunity' (again internet-based - combinability of information, possibilities for collective action) and cultural context (norms of participants) to create public and civic value (as distinct from merely personal or communal value).

But, having finished the book, I'm open to its thesis, not least because so much of it is so intuitive - and also because I suspect I tend to personally underestimate the transformative/disruptive potential of new technology. And it's presented as analysis of possibilities and as prescription - the task still remains to unlock this potential, which Shirky acknowledges in what he also acknowledges to be the most speculative part of the book (its closing section) while giving a list of ways to improve the odds, including recalling that behaviour follows opportunity (ie we should avoid 'theory-induced blindness' in making assumptions based on past individual/social behaviour in possibly significantly different contexts), basing structures on the assumption that people will differ in how they participate/act (a version of the 80-20 rule maybe), starting small and focusing on effectiveness from the beginning, and the importance of cultural and adaptive elements.

Buddy Miller - Midnight and Lonesome

Right in the Buddy Miller sweet spot.

The Grand Budapest Hotel

Oh, very, very good. It has that vision thing, of course - it's unmistakeably a Wes Anderson film, and at this point you have to doubt whether Anderson's even capable of making a film that doesn't feel unavoidably like one of his. But it also shades darker than anything he's done before,[*] as well as, probably more than any of his other films - and he's been moving more and more in this direction over his last few - successfully creating a tone, mood and structuring that brings the viewer in and leaves us in no doubt that we're meant to feel the poignancy and humanity of the film's situations and central protagonists (here Gustave H, and the bellboy Zero).

If Tenenbaums and Life Aquatic laid down markers and set the tenor, The Darjeeling Limited showed off the fruits of a clearer sincerity, Fantastic Mr Fox's mediation via animation and animal characters counterintuitively deepened the immediacy of the affect yet further, and Moonrise Kingdom came close to perfection in its sharp-eyed preciosity and sentimentality, then Grand Budapest seems an apogee of sorts in the development of Anderson's craft, as well as possibly pointing to its future - there's a confidence and ease to the way that it nests its stories within stories, wheels each new character on to stage (invariably with a front-on introductory head shot, akin to a magician's reveal as we delight at the appearance of another old favourite, and only later marvel at how profligate the film can be with actors of this talent and idiosyncrasy, in many cases giving them only the briefest of cameos), whips us from setting to memorable setting, sprinkled all the way through with what we can now recognise as genuine feeling and emotion - moreover, genuineness to which all of the artifice and stylistic staging now seems at least partially in service, and certainly with which there's a true synthesis, rather than the two - feeling and art - appearing, as they've sometimes been wont to do in his older films, in tension.

It moves at a rapid pace, even screwball; the antagonists (primarily Brody's Dmitri and Dafoe's Jopling) are dastardly; all of the characters immediately inhabit their designated roles and more than hold their own amidst the colour and movement and fantasy of the world of the film. It's not 'realistic' - though the only really cartoonish sequence is the chase down a series of winter olympic courses - but it feels real, which is only right and how it should be.

(w/ Jade)

[*] Caveat - I haven't seen his first, Bottle Rocket.

The Newsroom season 1

I kind of knew that this one would get me in the end, especially having seen the excellent, zinging first episode on an HBO teaser disc a while back ... West Wing-associated positive associations + idealism + (a bonus, but a big one) Emily Mortimer, who has indeed, as her character Mackenzie McHale declares in that season opener, gotten hotter with age (at another point, asked about whether she's tired, she replies something to the effect of "I'm exhausted. I've been exhausted since I was 30. We've all been exhausted since we were 30"). Sure, it has its frustrating and indeed somewhat problematic aspects (the somewhat on the trite side interpersonal dramas and love triangles, the uncritical acceptance of the killing of Osama Bin Laden as a unifying American moment, the general preachiness) but it's nonetheless very enjoyable, watchable tv.

The Lego Movie

Slyly - and very overtly - fun. Good voice actor cast, largely populated by SNL alumni and associates (I would've enjoyed the Batman character even more had I known at the time that Will Arnett was voicing him, and same for many of the others). And, also, convincingly Lego-like.

(w/ Cass and Ash)

Janelle Monae - The Electric Lady

Hard to say what it is with Janelle Monae exactly, but however she does it, The Electric Lady is another barnstorming stew of modern/futurist R&B, soul, pop, rock and plenty else besides - veering between and mixing styles with panache, and at least equalling the many pleasures of The ArchAndroid. Across 29 tracks - a number of them 'overtures' or 'interludes' - covering funk anthems, tender ballads and jagged dancefloor numbers, it never flags, each song given a melody to ride and a panopoly of other details that further dress it up. Quite an achievement, quite a listen.

Dum Dum Girls - Too True

I reckon the most even of their outings yet, charging along with one glossily produced and sturdily constructed miniature pop anthem after another. I'm not sure that Dum Dum Girls will ever create a great album, but in the meantime, the straight ahead pleasures of outings like this one are not to be sneezed at.

I Will Be
Only in Dreams
"End of Daze" ep 
"He Gets Me High" ep