Give the BBC their due. I know I’ve ranted a bit about their Olympic bias but they sure can do drama and despite mixed notices in front of tonight’s Fiona’s Story I thought it was outstanding.
Mind you, it had Gina McKee as the lead and she cannot put a foot wrong in my book. An A-class actress indeed and she carried off a very difficult and sensitive role with great subtlety.
It was a complex emotional plot, based on McKee’s husband being nobbled (no pun intended) for downloading child porn and then gradually attempting to take the emotional high ground by assuming the position of victim as opposed to perpetrator. McKee’s character, the wife, got landed with all the emotional shit and painted into the bad corner at every turn, despite being as sympathetic as one could possibly tolerate.
A very fine performance (BAFTA anyone?) in a very fine production.
I was watching this on STV and ranting and raving at the screen about how lame the direction was. Close ups when wide shots were required and vice versa.
“It’s a joke!” I shrieked as Jeana reminded me “You did exactly the same thing last year and didn’t even watch the end of it because you were in such a rush to blog it.”
I don’t blame her, because like her I too think Darnell – on Big Brother – can hide behind his Albinism as much as he likes – but that does not give him any excuse/opportunity to call the (rather loud/shreiky) Oz girl a slut and an ugly bitch.
After a fairly decent series (manners wise) he spoiled it a bit.
In fact he can go fuck himself.
But it’s got her (Jeana) going. She’s been pummelling C4 with Mary Whitehousesque troublesomeness. She’s been shrieking at the screen.
She’s been going for it.
Result! Darnell gets a wee talking to.
But anyhoo. Who cares? Certainly not me.
So, to much more interesting territories…
During the rather sorry and aforementioned ‘Darnell must go’ interlude we were discussing reading lists for the school year that lies ahead with Ria. She seemed quite interested in Magnus Mills’ book ‘The restraint of breasts.’ Perhaps she thought it was a good old fashioned boddice ripper.
Until I pointed out that it’s called The Restraint of Beasts.
Hilarity ensued – as it did when she proposed changing the middle consonants of the next candidate. The Shipping News.
Mary Whitehouse would have turned in her grave. If she was dead. Is she?
Of course the real risk to Obama’s accession to world power is that some fanatic kills him.
The fact that a right wing white supremacy unit set out to pick him off on the anniversary of Luther King’s “I have a dream” speech might, in hindsight have seemed obvious but it remains a real and present danger to this man’s life.
And, in that respect it remains a real and present danger to this world being a better place to live in.
I think the FBI has to be congratulated (assuming it was them who did it) for uncovering the plot by a bunch of hick Nazis to kill one of the world’s most important people. And let’s not kid ourselves he IS one of the world’s most important people.
Scotland is an exciting place to live, from a political perspective, right now because Alex Salmond’s SNP-led government has thrown off the shackles of what couldn’t be done before. It has a real sense of the new and it’s genuinely rather exciting. So imagine if you took that same approachh to American politics.
This is the third of JC’s biggies that I’ve read. What a Carve Up is magnificent and The Rotters Club is a hoot. But, aficionados told me the best was yet to come. I don’t know if it was the stop, start nature of the way I read it (it took me well over a month) but it just didn’t hit the same mark for me.
The plotting is dense (and frankly too dense for me to keep up with. (Ah, maybe that’s because you’re dense. Ed.) And yet the structure of shifting the story from the early to mid 80′s in alternate chapters is hardly rocket science. It’s set in a hospital that specialises in treating people with sleep disorders, situated on a cliff top in Ashdown where previously the man in charge, the more than slightly bonkers Dr Dudden, lodged in his university days. That’s where the whole thing stands or falls because the cast of characters all had some sort of link to the house back in the day and it all just got a bit too silly for my liking.
Maybe it was the characters. He rarely writes particularly sympathetically but this book is populated with caricatures that I never really cared for.
Don’t get me wrong though it is crafty and, in parts, crafted. He can deliver gags with ease can JC but too many of them in this novel were teed up and delivered ‘boom boom’ style.
I did laugh out loud on several occasions though.
Nah, if you only ever read one JC book, make it What a Carve up.
Watching this week’s Secret Millionaire put the series back on track for me.
It was starting to look staged.
Not this week.
Nick Leslau is a super rich property developer with a yacht in St Tropez and a lifestyle to die for. (We shouldn’t like him, should we!)
In the programme he gave across an air of inexperience when it comes to sharing his good fortune (not true in fact). But his honesty about his feelings towards the poverty he encountered in Glasgow’s Possil Park was totally refreshing and his humility throughout the programme was highly engaging.
But it was his humility that most stuck me.
His closest experience was with a group of disabled people and he opened up so frankly as to, no doubt, give his PRs heart failure. But he was simply reacting to what he saw in the most basic human way. His admittance that he ‘couldn’t deal with disabled people’ made him so real, so frank that you couldn’t fail but love him.
His gifts, as it happens, were super-generous but delivered with a plan.
This is a man I would dearly like to meet and tell him how good he is.
I was privileged to be among the audience at the opening night of The National Theatre of Scotland’s Festival production of 365 -a new play by David Harrower (appropriate name) and directed by Vicky Featherstone, at The Playhouse in Edinburgh last night.
The show was sold out and for good reason.
It’s a polemic piece about the plight of young people entering society after life in care. The show explores, through a cast of about 16, mostly in their teens, what the reality of life is in such a friendless, hostile and downright scary environment.
It’s performed by an ensemble, so no one particular actor stood out. But the technical achievements were noteworthy. Set, sound design, lighting and choreography were all outstanding. Paul Buchanan’s specially commissioned song that forms a central part of the denouement is spine tingling.
The acting is universally good and at times excellent.
But the greatness of the play is all about the writing.
This is very modern theatre and, as such, doesn’t follow a plotline or typical narrative structure and although it’s fairly bleak it’s by no means humourless. Fundamentally though it touches on the very darkest side of society – misogyny, neglect, class, prejudice, sexual orientation, fear and lack of confidence. Essentially it is about loneliness because most of the relationships we witness are a veneer.
Life as a kid with no familial network is not a good place to be and David Harrower brings this into sharp relief quickly and consistently.
I think it could do with a touch of editing but overall this is an important, thought-provoking and engaging piece of work.
I notice it’s playing at the Lyric, Hammersmith from 9 – 29 September. Not knowing the theatre I suspect it will be rather less spectacular than in The Playhouse which, as a stage, offers wide open spaces (and which contributed to the theme of isolation by its very brooding presence).
It’s distinctly Scottish, but the points it makes are universal and you lot in Englandshire shouldn’t struggle too much with the dialect. (You might not like the language though. My god, the National Theatre of Scotland like a fucking swearword do they not?)
Kenya's Nancy Longat winning 1500m gold at Beijing.
Kenya’s Nancy Langat won the Gold in the 1500m this afternoon. But you’d be forgiven for not noticing it as Brendan Foster wittered on in True BBC biasedness about fourth placed Lisa Dobriskey.
Is it just me or Brendan Foster past his sell by date?
God we can be tedious bastards, us Brits. But we’re quick to criticise the Americans for it.
Anyway, because Brendan did not properly acknowledge your victory Nancy, I will.
You have to agree, if you’ve watched any of Big Brother 09, that this has been a funny task.
The big guy lurching about at the back, if you’ve not, is Mikey.
He’s blind and has had many issues about the teaching of the dance; that has not exactly been inclusive from his point of view but then, star struck ‘lovers’ Rex and Nicole have been offended by his inability to ‘see their vision’.
He can’t see your bloody feet ya pair of fannies! Doh!
They are twats and heading for eviction.
And I still hate Big Brother.
(NB. Please do not see this post in any way as my endorsement of the tedious farago that Big Brother is.)
FCT’s production of Jeckyl and Hyde has won the award for best Musical in the Evening News Drama Awards. My review of the show here was hugely complimentary but sparked a deluge of debate regarding whether or not the choice of show was appropriate.
Obviously winning an award does not seal the argument but it is yet another fantastic achievement.
My father would have been mightily proud.
Congratulations also to Edinburgh Theatre Arts for winning the best Drama Award for Blue Remembered Hills.
Amateur drama in Edinburgh desperately needs the sort of filip that this sort of recognition provides and so we must thank the Evening News for their recognition.
Usain Bolt once again bolted up, this time in the 200m final, becoming the only man ever to set world records in the 100 and 200m Olympic finals in the same year. He destroyed the field again. What an incredible pair of performances.
In doing so he robbed Michael Johnson of his 200m World Record and Johnson responded, when asked by Sue Barker on the BBC tonight how he thought Bolt compared to Phelps (if one can even make a genuine comparison ) by saying, and I kid you not that (and I paraphrase) “Bolt had a far greater impact because Phelps never ‘rewrote’ anything.”
Och man. Have a word with yourself
He won eight gold medals, more than any other human being EVER. To add to his six from the last Olympics. That’s 14 Gold medals. What’s more he broke six world records.
Now, I’m not comparing the two but to say Phelps never rewrote anything smacks of a collosal ego.
What the subscript says is this.
“Bolt is great because he beat MY long standing world record.”
The rest of the world must be rubbing its eyes in disbelief as Hoy and co have put the Great back into Great Britain. These Olympics have been startling.
Excuse me. Is this table upside down?
Hoy is now a national hero (frankly he was anyway) and Scotland can take its place at the top table with pride. (Scotland on its own would be well inside the top 20.)
Well Done Chris and everyone else. You have made Britishness desireable once again.
Ooh, the sound of the thwack of leather on willow.
Life just now is like some sort of sporting nirvana. Yet, instead of being able to sprawl about, beached whale-like on the sofa at home watching the Olympics I have the tantalising proposition of a lifetime sporting ambition ahead of me.
Tomorrow I go to the first ever Scotland v England cricket match.
I have to say I think some of the “He’s not that good, swimmers can swim 100 metres front, back and sideways and win a medal.” is total bollocks. If that was the case Mark Spitz would have won more than seven golds in his career, so too would Matt Biondi, Ian Thorpe – The Thorpedo, and how about Shane Gould?
The fact is they all fell so far short of Michael Phelps’ mark as to render the best swimming Olympian argument redundant. So, then one has to move on to other sports to dis the ‘best’ argument.
Steven Redgrave’s five rowing golds in succesive Olympics is nothing short of miraculous and I think that makes him a contender.
Carl Lewis’ multi disciplinary and multi-Olympics’ success does too.
But stand back a second and look at what this remarkable man has done and you have to say…
You’re the man.
By the way, he ain’t finished yet. 14 golds and counting.
Why oh why oh why does every event in Beiijing have to allude to 2012 in London. Please just let us enjoy these Olympics.
Please?
You know what it is. It’s Britain’s endless ability to see itself as superior to the rest of the world. And they’re scared. These Olympics have been astoundingly good. Forget the politics for a moment. It has been a feast of sport in magnificent facilities with an opening ceremony that you simply could not have concieved of. So what does the BBC do? It projects forward to 2012 in such a way that makes this Olympiad seem of secondary importance.
I’ve just had the privelege of watching the Olympics 100 Metres Men’s final in which Usain Bolt not only rewrote the history books he rewrote how to run 100 metres. First off a new world record. Second, he did it winding down. Thirdly, he had so much fresh air between him and second place that it was verging on embarrasing.
What does a 17 year old girl want to do most these days? Actually you’re wrong. She wants to learn to drive.
Amy’s Provisional licence came through yesterday and so we went for it.
Uninsured, no L plates, unlicensed.
Fuck it. We got in the car and I taught her to drive.
Actually, you know what? I did!
She started the car without burning the starter motor out, she found the bite, she drove up and down the road; through the gearbox from first to third gear – up to 30mph.