Neuromancer

March 18, 2015 | Posted by Lesley Jakobsen | Fiction, THUMBNAIL REVIEWS |

(William Gibson).

I thought that, having read Neal Stephenson and Philip K. Dick, I knew all about cyberpunk and would find Mr Gibson’s most famous book old-fashioned and dull.  Wrong.  Mr Gibson invented it all.  This book is even referenced ( via a bendy, circular world) in the recent blockbuster, Interstellar.  Read it.

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Boyhood

March 18, 2015 | Posted by Lesley Jakobsen | Drama Film, THUMBNAIL REVIEWS |

(Dir. Richard Linklater) (2014)

Why all the fuss?  The only evidence of twelve years of production is the aging of the characters. A tired story line – a feckless, unthinking mother, no father.  Boy falls in love with girl next door.  As Dopey Mum says, “I just thought there would be more.”

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Interstellar

March 13, 2015 | Posted by Peter Jakobsen | Drama Film, THUMBNAIL REVIEWS |

(Dir. Christopher Nolan) (2014)

It is shocking how Hollywood, where marriage equality is all the rage, seems unable to avoid schmaltzy deployment of The Nuclear Family as its trope for love and sacrifice.  In the visually impressive Interstellar, a former NASA ace stumbles, through the dust of his corn fields, onto a super-secret (off balance sheet) NASA base, where the head guy only needs to finish that knotty maths equation (or make up something in its place) in order to save the world from a kind of agricultural Ebola, doubtless the product of pulping that mountain of IPCC reports and draining them into the watershed.

So it’s off to the event horizon for the fly-boy and mega-sulking for his kids, under the concerned tutelage of crusty-but-with-a-heart-of-gold-pop-in-law, left to fend with the dust and cinematic hurdles such as linear time and digesting corn, which is as hard as swallowing the words (when you can hear them) and deeds of the one-dimensional characters, lost in space.  There’s a moderately witty anthropomorphic computer on board, and Ellen Burstyn’s on hand to assure us that so-and-so doesn’t live here anymore, just to reassure us there’s nothing new to see here.

Turns out it was all a question of interchangeable slivers of time and a magic bookcase!  Oh well.  They loved it on Pantagruel.  But TVC aged 23 years, with an additional 5 when Matt Damon turned up plus another 8 when they used a pencil and paper to explain relativity, which I thought Sam Neill covered at a symposium in Hollywood, circa 1997…I’m looking nervously at my dusty bookshelves for confirmation.

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Jimi – All is by My Side

March 13, 2015 | Posted by Peter Jakobsen | Drama Film, FILM, THUMBNAIL REVIEWS |

(Dir. John Ridley) (2013)

TVC is assured by B, a colleague with impeccable sources, that this film is not overly prone to truth, particularly in its styling of Hendrix as a violently jealous thug.  Without having any personal knowledge, we must say that his persona, as we recall it, does strike one as being more akin to, say, Sam Cooke than, say, Big Lurch.

Image may contain: 2 people, people on stage and people playing musical instruments

Whatever, our main fault with this film effort is that it is silly, and rather dull.  Whilst watching, TVC extemporized a new set of lyrics to be sung to “Hey Joe”:

Hey Jim,

They made a movie of your life But just a part of it,

Hey Jim,

All the English roses who want to be your wife Even though you treat them s**t,

‘I’m going out to shoot through, you know there’s nothin’ to it’,

 

Hey Jim,

You a quiet genius on guitar But a difficult, moody, sod sometimes, (yeah)

Hey Jimi,

You’re in a fast car In a military jacket, doing crimes,

Sullen in a bar Violent and subdued at times,

‘Yes I did, I let them shoot this wandering pastiche set in England in the Summer of Love

And they had a camera! They shot it!’

 

Hey Jimi,

Where are you gonna run to, where you going to be?

Hey Jimi,

Where you gonna run to, where you mean to be?

‘I’m going way down south

Where I can see that doco of ’73 (alright)

And be free,

No Hollywood premieres for me,

They’re not going to put a rope and millstone around me.’




[Update: 23 Brook Street, Mayfair, where Jimi lived in his London phase, is to be opened as a museum next to G.F. Handel’s rented digs at # 25.]

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Faust

March 13, 2015 | Posted by Peter Jakobsen | Opera, THUMBNAIL REVIEWS |

(Opera Australia, Sydney Opera House, 7 March 2015)

The story of Faust and his bargain with the Devil is old as the hills and versions are manifold.  The first and still greatest example of the legend is Goethe’s monumental poem, in which Mephistopheles bemoans the angels who void his contract by ferrying the old doctor off to heaven and beyond his clutches*.  This production is of Gounod’s (19 March 1859) Opera, which was rather loosely adapted from Goethe**, and conceived by Sir David McVicar in 2004 at Covent Garden, revived here by Bruno Ravella.  The staging easily survives transportation from 16C to 19C, with some nice crepuscularity in Faust’s study (where we see Mephisto lounging during the somber overture, co-opting us in his mischief), the church and elsewhere, the overall effect recalling (as friend Lindsay points out) a Phantom of the Opera effect.  Set design (by Charles Edwards) was certainly lush.  At times (e.g. in ‘Cabaret L’Enfer’) it echoed the recent production of Orpheus in the Underworld.  The soldiers in the street recalled 19C Sicily in Visconti’s The Leopard.  Mephisto as a church statue mimics the Commendatore from  Don Giovanni.  Although there are too many scenes and more mood changes than in a menopausal soapie, these conceits do not diminish the work.  Nor did the masterly playing in the crowded Joan Sutherland Theatre pit under conductor Anthony Legge, and the various impressive acrobatics, balletic and otherwise, on stage.

Moreover, the performances were fine.  Teddy Tahu Rhodes as Old Scratch is an impressive figure, decked out in regal style (though what he was doing in drag on Walpurgisnacht with the so-called loose women of history is puzzling – in 2015 it is hard for Mephisto to scare us but surely pantomime comedy is no answer) and his bass melded well with the various aspects of his steadily revealed malign persona and with the impressive power, range and control of tenor Michael Fabiano as the scholar.  Nicole Car as Marguerite was terrific in voice and playing and the supports were also on song, wringing some charm from the arch moments of passion and humour.

File:Charles-Antoine Cambon - Set design for Act III, Scene 2 in the  première production of Gounod's Faust - Original.jpg - Wikimedia Commons

Charles-Antoine Cambon, “Set design for Act III, Scene 2 in the première production of Gounod’s Faust” (1869)

The main problems with Faust are Faust and the music.  The latter is never less than pleasing but overall, sentimental and almost kitsch, tending towards a full ladle of dark brown syrup poured over a stack of light buckwheat pancakes.  Perhaps one could add a little Berlioz-sour to the ballet’s icing-sugar?  And Faust is, at bottom, a cipher.  He pales as a character beside Mephisto and Marguerite.  His motivation for youth and love is plausible but his immoral bargain gainsays the suggested saintliness of his later impulses.  At the end, it is his lover who ascends to heaven, whilst he dodders back to his lonely study and expires, apparently unrepentant yet absolved.  He does not subside to the pit with Mephistopheles, as in Marlowe; he does not lose his humanity, as in Mann; he doesn’t get ferried to the celestial plane, as in Goethe.  In Gounod’s original conception, we actually forget Faust; he vanishes in the holy light picking the poor abandoned child murderer up and mounting the sacred stairway (here illumined by what appears to be Max Gillies with top hat and wings) so what we get is a scenic bookend where everything is tucked away neatly in the Devil’s trunk of bric-a-brac and makeup.  It doesn’t quite work.  Nevertheless, a good college try.

* [Faust lives on as metaphor – see, e.g., The Ritual Slaughter of Gorge Mastromas by Dennis Kelly, recently staged in Melbourne.]

** [“The familiar opera is an affliction to the student of Goethe, and even the best dramatic adaptation gravely perverts the original.”  – Joseph McCabe, Goethe – The Man and his Character, p. 367.]

153px-Mephistopheles_by_Antokolsky

‘To whom now can I turn to uphold the 4 corners of a deal?’ Marble sculpture of Mephistopheles by Mark Matveevich Antokolsky in the Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg (by Seriykotik, c/- Wikimedia Commons Images)

 

 

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Perfect Murder Perfect Town

March 2, 2015 | Posted by Peter Jakobsen | CRIME, Drama Film, THUMBNAIL REVIEWS |

(2000) (Dir. Lawrence Schiller)

Directed by Schiller as a tele-movie, originally a series, from his own book about the murder of 6 year old glamour-puss Jon Benét Ramsey on Christmas Day (or Boxing Day) 1996 in Boulder, Colorado, it violently divided critics and viewers alike as either partisan, too procedural or just plain icky.  Young Jon Benét was found strangled in the family’s cellar after what was called “the ‘War and Peace’ of ransom notes” turned up.  The parents became prime suspects; police and prosecutors clashed over the making of a prima facie case, and no one was ever charged.

The case fascinated the globe; the Ramseys were criticized for allowing their very young daughter to participate in beauty pageants for tots that had sexual overtones; they were accused of ‘hiding behind lawyers’ and drawing out police attempts to interview them; then they released a book (‘The Death of Innocence’) – plugging the book on TV they told Barbara Walters they would sit for a polygraph test (always an offer likely to increase suspicion).  Everyone seemed to be writing books – a detective on the case who noisily resigned, Steve Thomas, wrote his own book – so it is to the credit of this production that it manages a kind of believability and balance.

There is some good, some odd, casting (Kris Kristofferson as cold case specialist Lou Smit is a little off the wall), with performances ranging from good to Daffy Duck.  Actors from Club Sensible include Ronny Cox as John Ramsey, Ken Howard as D.A. Alex Hunter, Dennis Boutsikaris, Deirdre Lovejoy and John Heard as high-level cops, and Peter Friedman as a prosecutor who annoyingly keeps insisting on adhering to the Bill of Rights.

TVC does not quite know what Marg Helgenberger (Patsy Ramsey) and Ann-Margret, as her Mum, were up to, but overall, this film is worth a go, especially for anyone with an interest in the Ramsey case (its myriad clues leading up into cold thin air) or in the pressure on investigators arising from hysteria and what C. P. Snow called “the brilliance of suspicion.”

Ten years after the murder, a disturbed young man with a Jon Benét obsession, confessed to the crime, but it seems clear enough he made it up, possibly to escape a pornography rap in Thailand.  Only the shadow knows what darkness lurks…

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The Candidate

February 20, 2015 | Posted by Peter Jakobsen | American Politics, Drama Film, THUMBNAIL REVIEWS |

(Dir. Michael Ritchie) (1972)

Before he signed on as that perennial emblem, Bastard Dad, in the shrill and leaden “comedy series”, Everybody Loves Raymond, Peter Boyle did some interesting stuff: Joe, Taxi Driver, and in particular, his role here as a political Svengali to neophyte golden-boy Robert Redford in his against-the-odds shot at the California Senate race.

Fascinating depiction of a modern campaign’s trajectory, with strong performances by supporting players Boyle, Allan Garfield as a bumptious PR guy, Melvyn Douglas as the candidate’s former Governor Father, and Don Porter as the formidable Republican opponent seeking yet another term.  Highly watchable, perhaps the main flaw being Redford’s uneven performance, swinging from spot-on to right-off.  You feel for him when he can’t stop laughing at a speech-taping though!




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The Crimson Petal and the White

February 19, 2015 | Posted by Lesley Jakobsen | Fiction, THUMBNAIL REVIEWS, WRITING & LITERATURE |

(Michel Faber)

I have never understood the concept of “beach”, “holiday”, or “summer” reading.   The idea seems to be that, for some reason,  when my toes are being lapped by a foreign sea,  I want to read the sort of rubbish which I would not give shelf space to at home. Because my feet are damp, my brain must be too. Being the gullible type, I have fallen for this publishers’ spin in the past.  I have packed “light”, much vaunted contemporary fiction in my carry-on bag and have optimistically bent back the first of the 600 or so pages as the A380 taxis.  By the time we are at cruising altitude I have bounced the book off the window, have done the Qantas magazine crossword and will throttle the hostie if s/he does not come back soon with my Riesling.  (NB, as P J O’Rourke says, if you really want to annoy a flight attendant, call him/her “nurse”).

So I usually pass by the type of books that appear on “Christmas reading” lists with a superior toss of my too too refined head.  However, having admitted Michel Faber to the TVC circle of trust after reading Under the Skin and, having heard that each of his books is very different, I was tempted by one of those seashore monsters, and after a long fight with my book snob values, I gave in and read The Crimson Petal and the White during the silly season 2014. 

Surprise, dear reader, for a “bad” book, it is a “good” book –  pulp, but superior pulp. True, each of the characters is a standard Victorian-historical-melodrama type, but none of them follows the standard path for such a character.  (The most interesting being Agnes).  Those who claim legitimacy for the book go too far in comparing the  writing to Dickens – that  is laughable, but also unfair.

William’s precipitate and absolute infatuation with Sugar did bring to mind Philip’s obsessive need for the ghastly Mildred in Maugham’s Of Human Bondage – both writers take a risk and carry it off.  But Maugham would not make the mistake of Sugar’s later “employment” decision.  It is a move which she simply would not make and which is patently there to serve the plot.

So, although this is an  undemanding book, I wouldn’t hurl it at the too slow drinks trolley.  Although it is an absorbing read,  I wouldn’t write a thesis on it.  I would say that – if you must, you could read it by the pool – but not if your idea of a “good holiday” read is John Grisham or, on the other hand, Wittgenstein.

 

 

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What Ever Happened To Baby Jane?

February 18, 2015 | Posted by Peter Jakobsen | Classic Film, Drama Film, THUMBNAIL REVIEWS |

(Dir. Robert Aldrich) (1962)

 

I’ve written a letter to Bobby,

With grotesques he was deeply in love,

“Bob, which of Joan or dear Bette

Was easiest for you to shove?”

On piano, you drafted big Victor

The Warners said “Buono, he’ll do”,

I’ve written a letter to Bobby

Saying “What a stew”;

I’ve drafted a notice to Bobby

Telling him he’s through.

 

[TVC note: for all the Grand Guignol of her later performances, TVC considers Bette Davis an authentic star and pretty good actress to boot – e.g. All About Eve, Dark Victory, Of Human Bondage, Now Voyager, The Little Foxes, etc.  TVC also notes, but could not catch, Queen Bette at Old 505 Theatre in Sydney.  Check out the incisive review at Stage Noise.  Jeanette Cronin looks spookily like Davis at the mid stage of her career, a Hollywood career in which she had to call on all of her talent, nous and iron will to survive.] Continue Reading →

The Flying Dutchman

February 16, 2015 | Posted by Peter Jakobsen | Opera, THUMBNAIL REVIEWS, WAGNER |

(Wagner) (1843)

Not the Master’s best, by any means, but still streets ahead of most: strong, muscular, melodious, dramatic, Wagnerian, and able to be staged in most civilizations (Bass x 2, Soprano, Contralto, a couple of tenors).  A Mary Celeste story with some soft porn thrown in, it was apparently inspired by both a stormy sea-crossing and Richard’s contempt for Parisians. (TVC team are francophiles but still: Yay!). Add to the inspiration the ghost ship source material that abounded in Wagner’s youth, such as by Marryat and Heine and you can enjoy an immature piece that is still tempestuous, eerie and sombre.

TVC caught a race-trim version in Adelaide by SA State Opera (10/11/2009) directed by Chris Drummond, conducted by Nicholas Braithwaite.  Margaret Medlyn lived and breathed the key role of Senta; the Dutchman was the incomparable John Wegner, Australia’s greatest operatic artist since Sutherland.  “Hier steh’ ich treu Dir bis zum Tod.”*

Flying_Dutchman,_the

Painting by Albert Pinkham Ryder (1887)

The Richard Wagner Society of SA featured a lecture by Professor Heath Lees on the artistic links twixt Wagner and la belle Francaise, and Richard Mills conducted a production with 3D enhancement at Theatre Palais Melbourne but regretfully TVC, its red sails flapping in the sunset, was otherwise engaged – better luck next time.

*[‘Here stand I, faithful, yea, till death!’]

Note: the very good review of the 2009 production at:

http://iamaliminalbeing.blogspot.com.au/2009/11/adelaide-flying-dutchman-performance.html

 

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