British

Baffled and Beat

caitlin — Sat, 04 Dec 2010 00:00:00 +0000

There must be something in the Oxford water that breeds talent. How else could you explain the abundance of good, great, and truly classic music that has emerged from the southeastern English city over the last twenty-plus years? Need examples? Ride, Supergrass, and Radiohead all hail from there. I say it is not an overstatement to also count raucous duo Little Fish among these ranks.

This wouldn't be the first time I've sung their praises; earlier in February I wrote a glowing review of their “Darling Dear” three-song maxi-single for Elevate Difference. Little Fish's particular brand of intense swaggering rock, which has drawn comparisons to fellow garage punk group The Kills, has landed them on the video game “Rock Band” and helped to earn the duo opening spots on tours with Placebo and Courtney Love's latest incarnation of Hole. Now there's Baffled and Beat, Little Fish's highly anticipated full-length debut engineered and produced by Linda Perry, and released on Perry's Custard Records.

Perry's handiwork is as visible on these tracks as fingerprints on a cell phone touch screen. In keeping with her well-established professional reputation as a singer, songwriter, and producer, these twelve songs are the perfect blend of radio-friendly and rock-tastic. That's not to say that Little Fish sound like hapless puppets under the sway of some Svengali. Quite the contrary, singer/guitarist Juju and drummer Nez came to the party prepared, with their own fine-tuned ferocity at full throttle. Juju bellows, growls, and pleads her way through a barrage of breathless sweaty angst, while Nez pounds the ever-loving daylights out of his drum kit. Perry just happened to come along and give it all a little spit shine.

Sometimes, a band can crank out a smattering of quality tunes to attract the attention of radio and record folks, but are then incapable of sustaining said quality for a whole record. It would seem as though they had only those singles in them, and that was it. Unfortunately, many tantalized listeners don't figure this out until they dive in for more, only to come up thoroughly disappointed. Happily, that's not the case with Little Fish.

The three songs from the “Darling Dear” MP3 single—“Darling Dear,” “Sweat & Shiver,” and “Whiplash”—each find their passion and intensity put to good use within the overall context of a full-length release, and most of the album's other nine tracks are just as stellar. Stand-out songs include wailing banshee love song "Am I Crazy?," night-on-the-town rocker "Bang Bang," and proletariat anthem "Hallelujah," as well as the astoundingly sexy, self-destructive swagger of "Die Young."

Sadly, not every song can be a winner. "Luck's Run Out" practically implodes under the weight of its own tragicomic pathos. The lyrics "My records are old/My cat’s dead/I’m bored of the radio/I’m waiting for promises/Of something that never came/Don’t push me now/I am the life of the party" sound as though they were lifted straight out of some mournful "tear in my beer" country ballad. There's also the final song, "Sorry State," which features the following chorus: "Why does misery like company?/You’re such a sorry state/Throw your anchor out at me." Downright maudlin, it's an anti-climactic note on which to end an otherwise outstanding debut.

Written by: M. Brianna Stallings, December 3rd 2010

A Man’s A Man

mandy — Sat, 27 Nov 2010 00:00:00 +0000

Phoenix Theatre Ensemble

If playwright Bertolt Brecht were alive today, he’d likely blanch at the contemporary tendency to seek common ground with those whose ideologies are diametrically opposed to one’s own. His dozens of plays speak truth to power in daring, direct language and, while farce and sarcasm are employed, his repeated denunciations of colonialism, war, and militarism are boldly presented. A Man’s a Man (sometimes called Man Equals Man) was first staged in Dusseldorf and Darmstadt, Germany in 1926. Eighty-four years later, The Phoenix Theatre Ensemble’s beautifully-presented staged reading of the play is so relevant that the audience quickly forgets the age of the work.

Themes include the folly of armed conflict; the ways gender stereotypes are used to manipulate men and women into serving the Empire; and the ways youth are unscrupulously lured into patriotic service. Identity—whether we develop into thinking adults or order-following automatons—also comes into focus. The end result is riveting—full of wit, sass, and pointed jabs at the never-ending quest for land and resources that ensnares so many political regimes.

The action of A Man’s a Man follows a motley band of soldiers who belong to The Royal Imperial Army. In Kilkoa, India to guard—or perhaps loot—the Pagoda of the Yellow Monks, the play zeroes in on the Eighth Regiment, AKA The Scum—and what happens when one of their members, Jeraiah Jip, suddenly becomes unable to continue in Her Majesty’s armed forces. Since a Unit requires four men, the remaining three expect big trouble when Sergeant Fairchild, AKA Bloody Five [played by Grant Neale], arrives on the scene. Known for his fiery temper—Bloody earned his nickname after killing five Hindu prisoners—his underlings know that their superior will be apoplectic when, or if, he learns that Jip is gone.

In short order, Unit members devise a plan in which happy-go-lucky Galy Gay (Josh Tyson), “a man who can’t say no,” is hoodwinked into pretending to be the no-longer-present Mr. Jip. “One man is as good as another,” the soldiers quip, thrilled to have concocted so simple a solution to their conundrum. Gay is first promised cigars and beer for agreeing to go along with the deception; later, as they step up their brainwashing, the audience watches Gay morph into the perfect soldier—compliant, docile, and obedient.

The ten short scenes of A Man’s a Man, framed by a Prologue and Epilogue, move quickly, and include a bevy of rousing—and pitch-perfect, often hilarious—song-and-dance numbers. The nine characters, plus a keyboardist, are on stage at all times. They read with tremendous force, unapologetically delivering Brecht’s none-too-subtle critique of imperialist expansion. Elise Stone is particularly good as Widow Begbick, whose wily charms are used to raise questions about what it means for men to be men. Her sexy persona is used to profound effect and showcases the inane impact of both personal and political rapacity—whether in 1920s India or today’s Iraq and Afghanistan.

The seven-year-old Phoenix Theatre Ensemble is to be commended for reviving a play that other actors had relegated to history’s attic. The Company asks that patrons pay $25 per ticket, but their policy is to allow audience members to pay whatever they wish for each show.

Written by: Eleanor J. Bader, November 26th 2010

Partir (Leaving)

annette — Tue, 26 Oct 2010 08:00:00 +0000

Directed by Catherine Corsini

IFC Films

David McKenzie’s Asylum is a flawed but breathtakingly compelling portrait of violent sexual obsession, deception, and mental illness. Unremittingly dark, this film also presents us with a woman who rails against the constraints placed on women in 1950s middle class Britain.

Stella (Natasha Richardson) is a bored housewife who makes her home on the grounds of a mental hospital outside London. She’s married to Max (Hugh Bonneville), a pompous overbearing psychiatrist who makes it clear that she is expected to devote all of her energies to helping him rise to the top of the hospital hierarchy. The servants who cook meals, clean the house, and care for Stella’s son guarantee that Stella never has anything productive to do.

Stella has a chance encounter with Edgar (Marton Csokas), an inmate who is repairing the gazebo in her garden. They are both instantly attracted and begin having steamy trysts. Edgar, who has been institutionalized after having murdered his wife, is denied release from the asylum. Frustrated, he escapes and re-establishes contact with Stella once he is safely ensconced in a squalid cold-water flat in London.

Meanwhile, Max’s rival, Dr. Peter Cleave (Sir Ian McKellen) puts two and two together and confronts Stella, demanding to know where Edgar is. When Stella refuses, he reminds her that Max, as her husband, can have her committed to the asylum. Stella, trapped and caught in the full grip of hybristophilia, runs to Edgar.

Why did I choose to start off this review of Partir (Leaving) with a synopsis of a completely different film? Quite frankly, the plot of Partir is startlingly similar to Asylum. Although Partir is set in twenty-first century France, both films are keenly rendered character portraits of strong-willed British women who’ve grown tired of sacrificing their happiness for their families’ sake and decide to follow their hearts to tragic results.

Suzanne (Kristin Scott Thomas) is an Englishwoman who’s called France home for more than two decades. She is a stay-at-home mother who decides to go back to work after fifteen years out of the paid labor force. She is completing her training as a physiotherapist, something she’d planned to do before having children. Suzanne is married to Samuel (Yvan Attal), a pompous overbearing doctor, who reluctantly sinks a small fortune into fixing up a shed for her home office.

The man in charge of fixing up the space is Ivan (Sergi Lopez), a Spaniard who went to prison for “kid’s stuff.” When Suzanne causes an accident that causes Ivan to break his ankle, the guilt-ridden Suzanne to offer him a ride to Spain so that Ivan can visit his young daughter. The two, who already feel attracted, embark on a passionate affair.

Suzanne leaves her husband after confessing the affair and unsuccessfully trying to end it. Samuel, who seems to view Suzanne as more of a possession than an equal partner, resorts to blacklisting the couple to the point of starvation and freezing the bank accounts, not at all willing to give Suzanne a quick divorce.

Despite its derivativeness, Partir still managed to absorb me. This is in no small part due to Kristen Scott Thomas’ subtly commanding performance. Scott Thomas effortlessly conveys Suzanne’s conflicting emotions through her eyes and nearly imperceptible gestures.

I also like the fact that Corsini doesn’t feel the need to tell us everything. Many of the films climactic scenes end rather abruptly, requiring the audience to draw its own conclusions and Partir’s lean eighty-five minute run time guarantees that the film’s pacing doesn’t lag.

Partir doesn’t shy away from its feminist subtext, exploring the invisibility and frustrations of homemakers at length. Partir, in brutally honest scenes, depicts how easy it is for a vindictive husband to use his financial clout to punish an errant wife.

Given the date of its release and its serious subject matter, I anticipate Partir becoming a contender for Best Foreign Language Film. (It’s in French with English subtitles). Nominations for its cast and director are probably in short order, too.

Written by: Ebony Edwards-Ellis, October 26th 2010

Rage

admin — Sat, 20 Feb 2010 01:00:00 +0000

Directed by Sally Potter

Adventure Pictures

My partner, Jake Barningham, is an avant garde film and video maker. He’s constantly on the prowl for new ways to express himself visually. Most recently it has been creating videos with his cell phone camera. I really like the idea of using something so accessible and widely used like a cell phone to create art. Aside from its artistic possibilities, the cost effective nature of using a camera phone makes it possible for everyone to make movies without relying on the bloated corporate Hollywood production structure.

However, the flip side of that coin is one that I have very mixed feelings about: actually watching movies on your cell phone, iPod, or generic electronic apparatus. In the age of the digital copy and rising movie theater ticket prices, more and more people are opting to watch movies on inferior viewing devices to save time and money. In my opinion, movies are divine entities that deserve as much respect as humanly possible. Cinema is prayer. So, watching a movie on a cell phone or iPod that’s compressed, pixelated, and choppy just doesn’t work for me.

Enter Sally Potter. The British feminist filmmaker of such films as Orlando and Yes recently made the first movie that’s actually designed to be watched on your cell phone. The film in question, Rage, is an incredibly intimate exploration of some of the minds behind the fashion industry. Using fourteen different actors, including Lily Cole, Eddie Izzard, Steve Buscemi, Judi Dench, Adriana Barraza, Jude Law, and several others, Potter, in the guise of a silent, unseen student blogger named Michelangelo, films their diverse characters one on one with a cell phone and nothing but a moody, ever-changing colored screen behind them. By using what Potter calls “barefoot filmmaking,” she strips all of these larger than life personalities down to their naked emotions and exposes their vulnerabilities. Rage, like many great movies have done in the past, has turned my preconceived notions of cinema on their head.

At the beginning of fashion week, a famous model accidentally pulls an Isadora Duncan and dies on the runway. This sends the cast of characters into a tailspin of emotions and the atmosphere grows even more intense and hazy when another model is shot and killed on the catwalk. Unable to speak about their feelings with the people around them, the central fourteen characters, which includes Law as a beautiful transsexual model, Buscemi as the neorealism-hungry fashion photographer, and a bunch of corporate bigwigs and marketing executives, begin using Michelangelo’s filmic environment as if it were a confessional. Tears flow, anger swells, and light bulbs flash as ideas spring to life in front of Michelangelo’s camera.

At a solid one hundred minutes, Rage’s several one-sided conversations are genuinely captivating and engrossing. Ranging from deeply personal melodrama to exploring an immigrant worker’s role in the fashion world, the constantly shifting political agendas are bewildering and even exciting. Though I haven’t had the pleasure of watching the movie on my cell phone yet, viewing it on DVD with my home theater system granted me one of my best movie watching experiences in quite sometime. Potter, who took out a second mortgage on her home to pay for the movie, has quite possibly revolutionized the cinema industry with a single film. If Rage does well in the long run, who knows how long it will be before cell phone movies become the norm? The Hollywood industry is all but terrified of incorporating more digital cinema into their structure, so it’s anyone’s guess as to how they’ll react to something so simple and cheap becoming so accessible.

In any case, I highly suggest you check out Rage and support Sally Potter’s maverick feminist filmmaking in any way you can. It was one of the best films of 2009, and I guarantee you’ve never seen anything quite like it before.

Written by: Sara Freeman, February 19th 2010

44 Inch Chest

admin — Wed, 27 Jan 2010 17:01:00 +0000

Directed by Malcolm Venville

Image Entertainment

Colin Diamond (Ray Winstone) is a pot-bellied British gangster happily married to Liz, his wife of twenty-one years (Joanne Whalley). The problem is she’s not happily married to him. When Liz tells Colin she’s leaving him for a lover, he slides from incredulity to rage. Marital delusions wrecked, he resorts to gangster methodology. He assaults his wife (mostly off-screen) to get the lothario’s name—a studly French waiter (Melvil Poupaud).

Colin has a four-man crew with whom he toils at their underworld trade. Meredith (Ian McShane), Archie (Tom Wilkinson), Mal (Stephen Dillane), and Old Man Peanut (John Hurt) comprise the crew. The five men kidnap Liz’s lover and spirit him blindfolded to an abandoned building in some skanky corner of London. After severely beating the Frenchman (also off-screen), the men stuff him in an armoire (hence the film’s title).

As night passes in this lonely place, the crew decries Liz’s infidelity and assuages Colin’s wounded ego. Much of their embittered talk insists on the holiness of marriage and the treason of adultery. As they prattle on, the film feels somewhat like a bizarre, kvetching men’s group. This lends a comic edge to the proceedings—despite the kidnapping, hallucinatory episodes interspersed with realist scenes, and threat of imminent murder.

44 Inch Chest has received positive notices. Reviewers have praised its sharp, plentiful dialogue (in strong British accents), and fine acting. The script is by the duo who penned Sexy Beast, a superior gangster film from ten years back in which Winstone also starred and Ben Kingsley played the scary villain. The dialogue and acting in this new film are, indeed, superb; however, the ending has been described as weak, limp, and anti-climactic.

I beg to differ with this judgment on the last ten minutes of the film. On the surface, 44 Inch Chest seems to be a revenge narrative and gangster piece—both of which demand a boffo finale—and this doesn’t happen. It doesn’t happen because whatever its genre tendencies, this movie is not about underworld types locked in mortal combat. Rather, 44 Inch Chest is an exposé of misogyny, homophobia, and machismo. This makes the film a rara avis in the history of cinema.

Colin and his crew make much of marriage and the sacred bonds between men and women. They ground their intent to murder Liz’s lover in his betrayal of marriage and the sentiments upon which marriage is founded. As the film progresses, though, we discover that only Colin and Old Man Peanut, who has a history of spousal abuse, are married. Archie lives with his mother, Meredith is a gay man who prefers emotionless sex, and Mal would like to bed Liz—the very reason the waiter may be killed. All the crew betray themselves as violent hypocrites and sanctimonious egocentrics.

In Lady Chatterly’s Lover, D.H. Lawrence set about to liberate the c-word by using it in a context of love and sensuality (the c-word derives from cunnus, Latin for “nest,” a lovely etymology). These gangsters employ the c-word to describe each other and other men. The epithet occurs so many times, and always in a degrading and violent way, that its effect and meaning grows and compounds. While spouting their clichés about love and marriage, these men actually seem to hate vaginas and the women attached to them.

The triumph of 44 Inch Chest lies in its revealing of the misogyny and machismo that can lie beneath the surface of men’s attitudes. Apart from its considerable artistic triumphs, the film deserves to be seen for this reason alone. As to that ending, it’s perfect: surprisingly compassionate considering all that has gone before and optimistic about the ability of humans to change.

Written by: Neil Flowers, January 27th 2010

The Lady in the Tower: The Fall of Anne Boleyn

admin — Sat, 16 Jan 2010 09:00:00 +0000

By Alison Weir

Ballantine Books

Having been drawn to the history of midwifery and peasants/working classes, I’ve always shied away from studying aristocrats. When I first picked up The Lady in the Tower, I was a bit apprehensive. Over 350 pages in length (not including the bibliography, source notes, or illustrations), it appeared to be a daunting reading task. Despite my worries, the work turned out to be thoroughly engaging and interesting.

From Anne Boleyn to Henry VIII and Thomas Cromwell, Alison Weir examines the medieval context that they existed in, handing over no prejudices, just facts (as well as omitted evidence). Whether Anne slept with five men behind Henry’s back, well, that is for the reader to interpret. Contrary to popular knowledge, Weir states that Henry was not behind Anne’s fall, since he clearly could have done away with her as he did his previous queen, Katherine.

On top of all the primary source investigation, Weir utilizes a historical methodology which covers interpretations in different eras down through the ages. She explains that yes, the masses saw Anne in a better light during her daughter Elizabeth I’s reign. Later in the Victorian era Anne’s image was romanticized, so Weir effectively notes the easy sway of public opinion.

Today, however, Weir observes past records and argues that it was near impossible for a queen in Anne’s time to find the privacy to take up with five different lovers (including her own brother). The role of modern science explains issues like miscarriages and Katherine’s death (cancer), which the superstitious and god-fearing people of sixteenth century England were not privy to. Weir’s work incorporates archaeological examination of the burial area where Anne’s beheaded body was approximately laid to rest.

Weir does a great job of keeping the context in focus, while keeping the narrative compelling. The only disappointment of the book, as an advance copy, was that the illustrations were not included. The only historical figure that I could not muster sympathy for was Thomas Cromwell (the man who spearheaded the king's disposal of Anne, and who also later faced his own execution), but don’t let me be the judge or hand-picked jury on the final verdict of Cromwell’s character.

This account of the Tudors has really piqued my curiosity to go beyond the surface of the occasional pedigree chart or Hollywood movie for Anne Boleyn and Henry VIII came alive in the pages.

Written by: Nicolette Westfall, January 16th 2010

Troubled, Shaken Etc.

admin — Sun, 27 Sep 2009 17:12:00 +0000

By Sian Alice Group

The Social Registry

British rock band Sian Alice Group’s latest effort can be categorized somewhere between prog rock, ambient folk, and experimental. Clocking in anywhere between two and eight minutes, their songs wind around and bump up against one another, creating a cohesive sophomore album. Troubled, Shaken Etc., in all its bewildering glory, is the followup to their critically acclaimed 59:59.

On "First Song - Angelina" and "Close to the Ground"—one of the album's most memorable tracks—Sian Ahern's haunting vocals carry the tune over lilting piano melodies and fading percussion. While never an imposing front woman, it’s clear—not just from the band’s chosen name—that Ahern is a force with which to be reckoned. What can I say? I like tough gals with delicate voices.

Even at only 1:55, “Longstrakt” is a memorable track, reminiscent of label mates Gang Gang Dance with its hypnotic, repetitive percussion. Want to be instantly transported into a psychedelic horror film? This is the song for you.

While the entire album shifts moods and structure repeatedly, it retains a cohesive quality. It fades as forgettable background music if you stop paying attention, but take it to a listening party with your super hip composer friends and impress them all with your ability to listen to the album tracks out of order.

Bands on The Social Registry label are often uninhibited by confusing rhythms, comfortable with unconventional songwriting and vocal abilities. Sian Alice Group is no exception, though it should be noted that their ethereal sounds may be more listenable than other musicians who keep the same professional ties. This is more fact than strength or weakness.

On tour in the U.S. starting in September, their casual post-rock shows ought to be worth entrance fees, if not the token t-shirt.

Written by: Brittany Shoot, September 27th 2009