You Had Me At 'Davros' | Doctor Who: The Magician's Apprentice - Review

Well now, this is more like it, Steven Moffat. Why couldn't you have written an episode this good to open the last series, Capaldi's first as the Doctor, no less? Excuse me but Deep Breath was deeply rubbish (see my review here). The following episode, Into The Dalek, was a vast improvement, challenging the Doctor's ethics and prejudice with a 'good' Dalek. I suppose having that as Capaldi's first ever full episode as the Time Lord would have been a bit much - having him face his oldest enemies in his newest incarnation, straight out of the box, as it were, would be a lot to ask of a new Doctor. 

You do Dalek episodes so well, Moff, much better than your predecessor, Russell T Davies, who seemed to think that having the Daleks in the final two episodes of nearly *every season* was a good idea, with their masterplans notching up the apocalypse-ometer with each passing finale. They just wanted to destroy or overtake the Earth/Universe/Reality Itself. Moff, you were wiser to give them a back seat for Matt Smith's first couple of series, then bring them front and centre for the barnstorming Asylum Of The Daleks, with the Dalek Parliament and titular Asylum to boot. You even made a version of future companion into one of the tank-dwelling mutants! Boldness!

Now, with The Magician's Apprentice (I like that there is no mention of Daleks in the title but an indirect hint to their creator, Davros), you've given us another good 'un. I was a little uncertain at first, what with that whole war thing going on and those 'hand mines' (one letter away from land mines, very clever, Moff) a bit too reminiscent of the mitts of the Pale Man from Pan's Labyrinth (but not Pan's hands, though).

Once the Doctor appeared with his 'acoustic corridor' (nice) and the little boy he wanted to save from the hands (oddly able to make hissing noises, despite having no visible mouths) revealed his name, I was hooked. Steven, you had me at 'Davros'. Capaldi's look of anguish was the perfect lead-in to the titles and it all very nearly made up for the fact that you've still kept that bastard awful rendition of the theme tune (bar a slight change at the start - an improvement, at least). Anyway, I didn't mind it as much after *that* opening scene. Maybe the mines' glaring, searching eyes influenced Davros' design of his future one-eyed creations?

Following this was a pleasing homage to Star Wars' Mos Eisley cantina scene, with Colony Sarff (Jamie Reid-Quarrell), looking facially like the Channard Cenobite from Hellraiser 2 (horror films seem to be an influence, here) as he glides around in his monk-like cloak, inquiring about the location of The Doctor. Sarff veered dangerously close to saying 'Dok-TOR!' as has become a parodied cliche of our hero's past enemies. Apparently, Davros (presumably the same one we saw earlier, it's surely not a common name in the galaxy but there must be more than one across the whole of spacetime? Bit silly to feature two different ones in the same episode, I suppose) - 'creator of the Daleks and Dark Lord of Skaro' (crikey, Moff, someone knows there's a new Star Wars film coming out!) is dying and requests a final audience with the Doctor, whom no one seems to be able to find. Usually, the dastardly Daleks have no trouble here, so things must be bad.

The Doctor has also given his 'Confession Dial...the last will and testament of the Time Lord known as the Doctor' to Missy (Michelle Gomez), AKA The Master, on the eve of his final day. Oh no, we're not going down the death of the Doctor route again, are we, Moff? Since you've been in charge, he's had more 'final days' than hot companions. First, we had him being potentially erased from history in The Big Bang, then he was 'killed' at Lake Silencio in The Impossible Astronaut, followed by him visiting his own grave at Trenzalore in The Name/Time Of The Doctor. Mind you, I would like a Confession Dial myself.

She argues her case to Clara for being the Doctor's oldest and best friend, a defence so far so good, where she lists various misadventures through which she's cared about him, until she says 'since he was a little girl...' That's one angry fanboy fist shake and a cry of 'MOFFAT!' narrowly avoided (just) by Missy's qualifier that 'one of those is a lie. Can you guess which one?' I really want to see the Cloister Wars now, though. Assuming that last one wasn't the lie.

On the upside, the Doctor is not dead yet but 'hiding' in mediaeval England. Which is to say, he's been larking about with the local yokels, building wells to avoid meditating (see the prequel, The Doctor's Meditation), making friends with his 'idiot' friend Bors and engaging in duels using a spoon as we all wished he hadn't in last season's poor Robot Of Sherwood. I'm glad were weren't subjected to that sight again this time around but instead treated to seeing the Doctor enter the episode - following some stuff with companion Clara (Jenna Coleman), Missy and a largely pointless stunt with frozen planes - standing atop a tank (presumably remote controlled or driven by one of the Doc's local mates), playing electric guitar (Capaldi being a former member of punk band, The Bastards From Hell. His rendition of the theme tune here should replace the current one). I couldn't help but smile at this...for about a minute, then it got annoying as the Doctor regaled them with recounts of his exploits among them, including introducing the word 'dude' several centuries too early. Very cool, Doctor, now stop channelling your previous two incarnations, please and get back to being the more clean-talking Malcolm Tucker you were last year.

Thankfully, this pretty much happens once Colony Darth, sorry, Sarrf, slithers in and delivers his message to the Doctor, who already seems to know it, given what he says in the prologue and prequel mini-episodes. He willingly gives himself up to Sarrf, as do Missy and Clara, despite the Doctor's protests.

Back on Skaro, the Doctor finally meets with Davros in the original Dalek City (an improved version of the model one seen in The Daleks their very first story during Hartnell's tenure in 1963), who looks much like we saw him in The Stolen Earth/Journey's End - the two-part finale of Tennant's third season. I remember reading in Davies' book, The Writer's Tale, an early script draft of those episodes featuring Davros' origin story on Skaro and now we're getting Moffat's version, which is arguably better. How the Dark Lord escaped the burning Crucible ship during the finale of Journey's End, is as much of as mystery (a Miss-tery?) as how Missy avoided death by Cyberman at the end of last season's Death In Heaven, or, indeed how she overcomes death by Dalek here. Hard to believe one of the baddest bitches in the universe would allow herself to be exterminated so easily, even if these Daleks are, as their creator says, 'only children' and are, as such, less developed but more impulsive. Could be that what happened on the Crucible resulted in Davros' dying?

Clara's extermination came as more of a shock, despite the knowledge that, glory be, Jenna Coleman will be leaving before the Christmas special (can we have a more straightforward, less smug, more Rose-like companion next time, please, Moff?) I just didn't expect her to go this soon. Obviously, given this series' promotional material, she will appear in subsequent episodes and we know, don't we, Moff, that people have a hard time dying in your version of Doctor Who? It would be a true shock if a companion actually stayed dead. OK, there's Danny Pink but he was so boring, he barely counts and he still showed up in the Christmas special, after having died an episode earlier. Let's hope that's the end of the silly sod. Speaking of which, Rory wouldn't stay dead, Amy Pond resurrected at least once and I don't even want to get started on River Song, who had died in Forest Of The Dead but appeared as a hologram for her last appearance and will show up in this year's X-mas episode. Crap, I got started, didn't I?

Sufficit to say, companions tend not to stay dead for long in Moffat's Whoniverse. In Magician's Apprentice, he's pulled another Moffat mishanter (Google it), where, as with the end of The Pandorica Opens - the penultimate episode of Smith's first season, everything has gone to pot - Clara and Missy are dead, the TARDIS is destroyed and the Doctor is trapped in a room with his deadliest enemy. Only, no, he's back on ancient Skaro, aiming a Dalek gun at Davros' younger self, ready to exterminate the exterminator creator. Well, the Doc did something similar in the Eccelstone episode, Dalek, and was told a few episodes later that he would 'make a good Dalek', so, now, maybe he will. He would be the first Dalek, in a way. Question is, how did he get back to early Skaro without the TARDIS? Perhaps he uses the TARDIS of the First Doctor, possibly in the Dalek City if this is set at the time of their first appearance in the show? If so, where are the Thals - that other indigenous Skaroan race? Whatever, it's bound to be another deus ex Moffina, as with the Pandorica itself in The Big Bang. 

I was very impressed by The Magician's Apprentice and hope that it has set the tone for the rest of the series, which has a lot to live up to if so. 

Images courtesy of http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b006q2x0/galleries

He's NOT The Messiah, He's A Very Talky Boy! | Revolution by Russell Brand - Review

At one point in Revolution, Russell Brand’s latest book, the comedian considers the problem of homelessness; the fact that we have enough housing for everyone in the UK, yet we still have many rough sleepers. ‘”Don’t give them any money:”’ Brand quotes a well-oiled phrase, “they’ll just spend it on drugs.” …so what?’ He argues. ‘I find it hard enough to not take smack sleeping in my cosy flat, take that away and I’ll need at least a ten pound bag of brown warmth to take the edge off.’

Of course, as Brand has always been so keen to remind us – frequently, in Revolution – he knows whereof he speaks when it comes to easing the pain of reality through drug use, even if he has never been homeless. For Brand, if you didn’t already know, drugs were his way of dealing with the boredom and listlessness of growing up in the economically depressed area of Grays, Essex, continuing to use as his media career progressed.

When he saw that drugs were causing him more harm than good, Brand quit. That addictive personality soon sought satisfaction in other ways, though, through sex, fame and…yoga. What with Revolution, his YouTube show The Trews (i.e. ‘true news’) and his film, The Emperor’s New Clothes it’s easy to see politics as Brand’s newest drug of choice, which at least benefits people other than dealers.

Whether at the start of a sentence or not, Brand always pretentiously writes the word ‘Revolution’ with a capital ‘R,’ as if he invented it. Perhaps it’s to get us to roll the ‘R’ like he often has on TV, like, ‘Ooh, let’s ‘ave a lovely Rrrrevolution, me dears. Won’t it be lovely?’ All said with wide, come-hither eyes and a hand on one hip. For Brand, it's uncharacteristically bland as a title, almost as much so as Brand reusing the title of Andersen’s children's book for his follow-up film (which, going by the trailer, hardly seems dull). I mean, at least put a word before it, like Christian activist and speaker Shane Claiborne did with his 2007 book, The Irresistible Revolution, which pretty much covers the same ground as Brand’s tome but with clearer writing, greater humility and from a more explicitly Christian perspective (although Brand pays quite a lot of heed to Jesus and the Bible). Something unlikely to appeal to the popular market Brand is simultaneously courting and criticising with Revolution. The title on the cover is styled to have the word ‘LOVE’ backwards within it – tricky to do throughout the entire book and I suppose Love Revolution or Revolution of Love just sound cloying.

I’ve always found Russell Brand repulsive and compelling in equal measure. He could be obnoxious and inappropriate (Sachsgate, for example) but there was something more appealing about him– a sense of the spiritual and a willingness to engage with people from all walks of life. A quick look at the Revolution hardback in Waterstones a while ago revealed that Russell brings up the St. Francis Prayer -‘Lord, make me a channel of thy peace…’ etc – early on. This inspired me to read the whole book - a library copy of course, abiding by the author’s anti-capitalist message by not parting with my money, even if at least some of it goes toward his ‘Trew Era Café’. It appealed to me that Brand uses prayer himself, even if he considers it to be ‘linguistic codes…that initiate neurological procedures’. This seems a rather reductive, materialistic description of prayer for such an apparently spiritual man.

My goodness, though, if Brand doesn’t half bang on about us all getting into Kundalini yoga and transcendental meditation in order to bring about a spiritual ‘Revolution’ of collective consciousness, where we free ourselves of our need for stuff, therefore our need for capitalism and therefore, corporations that run on capitalism and therefore, governments what are internally corrupt ‘n’ that cos they only serve these rich businesses, rather than the people who vote for politicians, yeah? DON’T VOTE! (Except for Labour in 2015, as Brand told us in the Trews edition where he interviewed Ed Milliband, for all the difference it made.)

It’s not that I’m against what ‘Ol’ Russ’ is proposing. It’s just that I’ve heard or read it before and communicated better, which is odd to write regarding a professional talker like Brand, who writes pretty much like he speaks – very stream-of-consciousness and filthy, with some unnecessary rhyming, to boot. Yet, there is brilliance in here, including some killer one liners. Whilst writing about performance being like calling down information from other realms, Brand counters himself with an imagined response from the reader, '"Russell...are you bringing down information from other realms when you're talking about your willy at the Hammersmith Apollo?"'

It’s such a mixture of the sacred and profane (and all inbetween), it’s like he kept a journal addressing the reader and sent the latest volume to Random House. It’s nice of Ol’ Russ to be so jocular with us, as if we're mates he just hasn’t yet met but the book’s juxtaposition of larks and seriousness is jarring at times. Not so in others, though.

I really struggled with all of the economy stuff, partly because it read like Brand was merely parroting information and partly because he didn’t add any jokes in these bits (which is probably pretty hard to joke about, anyway) but other heavy, or dry, parts of the book are more enjoyable for the levity.

With a good editor, Revolution could have been a storming read. As it is, it’s like ploughing through a first draft and is hard work at times. I found myself wanting to throw the book on the ground after reading another quote that Brand expands upon, another non-sequitur chapter ‘ending’, or, most annoyingly, another story or quote from one of Russell’s mates whom I’ve never heard of and whose opinion I am supposed to respect. Nik, for example (for it is he) thinks that, ‘the first act after a successful Revolution should be the execution of its leaders’ in order to prevent power going to their heads. Cheers, Nik.

I believe that there is something in all of this spiritual business; it’s just that its practical application is a little lost in Revolution but other authors, such as those quoted in it, put it better. Whilst relying a little too much on his mates’ ideas, Brand also quotes from people most of us have actually heard of – Orwell, Chomsky, Tolle, Jesus etc but when I read ‘another world is possible’ (or words to that effect) I had to wonder if Brand actually has a copy of Irresistible Revolution on his shelf (in which that phrase appears, although Claiborne appropriated it elsewhere) he just doesn’t want to admit it, since his Revolution-ary plans are too similar. Shane writes of his experiences working with Mother Teresa and helping Iraqi children, whereas Brand has listened to and read books by a lot of clever people with a social conscience and once let a homeless person sleep in his flat for one night for TV. However, it is fascinating that Brand has reached the point he has after an unfulfilling life of drugs, sex and fame. Brand's point of view is very different from Claiborne’s and just as valid. Kindness is not a competition but, in fairness, I can’t say that I’ve done anything as altruistic as either of them. I’ve also never been addicted to drugs, sex or fame and, honestly, I feel a touch of regret about that. I could still do those things but I fear they would taint my halo of social conscience. Such as it is!

Brand is a Prodigal Son, of sorts, abandoning a hedonistic lifestyle and returning to the Father, or, at least, some sort of spiritual peace involving God. He’d probably rather be the Son of God, though, even if he comes off more like Rik, Rik Mayall's anarchist character in The Young Ones. Brand is a man who did a stand-up show called Messiah Complex in which he compared himself to Christ, amongst other revolutionaries, including Hitler, I believe. In Chapter 10, Brand urges us, as if he is ‘like some weird, bizarro Jesus’, to take pity on the rich, for they, too are slaves to the same corrupt system as the rest of us. Fair point. 

 Whilst very respectful, indeed inspired, by Christianity – Brand even dedicates a whole chapter to the Lord’s Prayer  - his spirituality is a hodgepodge of the Bible, Buddhism and a bit of Paganism thrown in for good measure. He sees it all as coming from the same Source that those of us enslaved to the capitalist matrix need to return to if we’re gonna get this bloody revolution, whoops, sorry, ‘Revolution’, off the bloody ground, right? Such is the force of Brand’s argument, however, he even nearly had me convinced that religion is merely a human construct but that there is, beyond it, a spiritual awareness. Dedicating a chapter to the Paternoster prayer, however, not to mention other chapters that take us through Manifest Destiny, the Co-Op manifesto and, most laughably of all, the Twelve Traditions of Alcoholics Anonymous as a foundation for Brand’s ‘trew’ world order, is lazy writing. Claiborne’s book had the ‘Marks Of A New Monasticism’ list at the end but Brand takes up whole chapters with the things. OK, he admits that he wants the Revolution to be fun but leading up to the Twelve Traditions as his bedrock for a better world made me wonder if he was just taking the piss altogether.

Saying that, it’s not entirely unconvincing.

Brand is easy to bash and is the first to call himself out on his own problems, mistakes and hypocrisy. He admits to not having achieved enlightenment quite yet and still struggles with his own ego. He knows he’s having a go at Apple whilst writing the book using one of their products (as I am to write this review; slave to the system that I am.) He realises that people will take shots at him for his views (haven’t they always) but bless me if Brand doesn’t have a winning sincerity at times.

Images from Facebook.

Not Great But Good | Spooks: The Greater Good - Review

Hey, Pinewood Films, I know your game. Advertise a 'special advance screening' of the new Spooks film, The Greater Good, in order to generate word of mouth for a relatively low budget British production, based on an old TV series. The opening weekend gross is what counts, of course, especially with under the Radar ones like Greater Good and, since it opens nationwide on May 8th, it seems Pinewood want to make sure this one does as well as possible by getting people talking with an early screening.

As a Spooks fan, it's a welcome opportunity to see Greater Good before it goes on general release (I probably would've waited for the DVD otherwise). As a film fan, it's a rare chance to see one before most people - not that Greater Good is likely to draw huge crowds.

It was also great to go straight into the film and not have to sit through the usual adverts and trailers I've already seen. With a standard cinema ticket costing nearly a tenner, why can't all screenings be like this? I think films would do a lot better if people, having paid that much, did not have to endure commercials being forced down their throats, along with trailers for films they weren't intending to watch anyway or were intending to and don't need to see a trailer for because, if they're nerds like me, they've already watched them online too many times.

Anyway, Greater Good appears to have been cannily released to carefully avoid any of this year's competition from more established spy franchises, like Mission: Impossible - Rogue Nation or SPECTRE, as well as summer blockbusters altogether. Greater Good's promotion rather unfairly draws comparisons with two other action film series with the poster tagline 'Mission: Impossible meets Bourne', which is obviously intended to draw fans of better known franchises. The show aired from 2002 to 2011, which is kind of ancient history in TV terms and it is not very fresh in people's minds. Yet, the tag sounds like a writer's pitch to a producer and feels odd to a fan of the TV show, as I am, who knows that, whilst the series often aimed for a cinematic feel, it's not really like either of those but does share some common ground - action, terrorism, double-crosses. That tagline takes some of Spooks' own identity away, making Greater Good sound to the uninitiated like it's a British knock-off of those films, whereas the TV programme predates Bourne and the second and third M:I films by some years.

Spooks' unique angle, though, is that it is about MI5 (that's Ministry of Intelligence, not Mission: Impossible, as I'm sure you knew) - UK homeland security. Bharat Nalluri, Director of the first and last episodes of Spooks on TV, returns to keep alive the series' signature approach of handling foreign terrorist threats on UK soil, where ordinary lives are at stake, whilst also showing the personal cost that defending the realm has on MI5 agents. The film takes the established conventions and satisfyingly broadens the scope for a cinema audience. There is some globe-trotting to Russia and Germany in Greater Good but these places look less glamorous than they would in Mission: Impossible or possibly Bourne and the film doesn't spend long in either. Spooks, similar to Bourne, is also pretty believable, set as it is in a world much like our own. Also, there are no gadgets or gimmicks; the Spooks must rely on existing tech, as well as their wits, training and each other, to get the job done.

There are lots of cool aerial shots of the Big Smoke, adding to the air of threat established by the escape of terrorist, Adem Qasim (Elyes Gabel). If only they hadn't redesigned The Grid (MI5's centre of operations) - now complete with ghastly new lime green chairs around a less shinier conference table than before. Although the room these are in is the setting for one of the film's best scenes. Happily, I think some of those chairs got damaged and so will need replacing for the potential next film. Sadly, those cool swishy doors have gone, too. The theme music is present, although not during the opening titles, which has sombre music as we hear news reports regarding Qasim. I thought it was clever how someone says 'BBC' as the very same letters appear in the titles. Nice.

At the centre of it all, as ever, is Harry Pearce, played, of course, by the excellent Peter Firth. The one character who so often seemed liable to fall to the Spooks curse of being shockingly killed off but, being such a great character, we all knew never would be, returns to Britain's aid once more. The sudden, tragic death of a main character is another series trademark (or cliche) the film stays true to and there are a few returning faces from the show, who do not all make it to the end.

Seeing Harry Pearce - the UK's head Spook - and another series stalwart indulging in a spot of espionage in a grotty London internet cafe is a hoot. In order to complete the highly illegal operation Harry is having him do, the stalwart says he must 'steal more bandwidth' from the London boroughs, resulting in the cafe's other PC's (the cafe's not upgraded to Macs, yet) going haywire, leaving their users perplexed. My IT expert friend, with whom I was watching the film, pointed out, 'the internet doesn't work like that', although the more realistic frozen screens and the little digital hourglass is less visually interesting than the monitors frantically blinking and flashing.

It's great to see Harry Pearce back in action once again. I only miss his old habit of holding a mobile phone with one hand to the opposite ear, as if covering his mouth from anyone attempting to lipread it. Here, he just turns away from someone spying on him whilst he's making a call.

Qasim is a dependable, if not exactly striking, villain in the same mould as those of the series - the villains look like everyday people but with radicalised beliefs and some inner pain which they feel the need to take out on Western society. Qasim's methods are brutal but he's not a particularly interesting character, although one can sympathise with why he acts the way he does.

Greater Good doesn't require you to have seen the TV show to understand and enjoy it, although I liked it more for having been a fan. The story is typical of the series, involving Qasim's attempts to bring civil disorder to the UK using big bangs, with our heroes out to prevent him. Will Holloway (Kit Harington) is the former MI5 agent re-recruited by Harry to help him deal with the terrorist whom he allowed to escape.

Holloway is in no way in danger of becoming a new Bond, Bourne or Ethan Hunt. He looks more like a permanently depressed, tattoo-less Russell Brand as he mopes for his dead father and drops f-bombs on Harry Pearce - the next best thing Will now has to a father. Harington is good as the latest strapping young lad taking down the villains at Harry's command. It's just a shame there is no romance between him and either Tuppence Middleton's MI5 agent June or Eleanor Matsuura's Hannah Santo (whom I think worked for GCHQ?)  It's somewhat refreshing that the story sticks to business, though. It might have been a bit cliche to have the hero getting fresh with the ladies…or gents. I detected a slight frisson between Will and June, however.

Harry is once again annoying his superiors, played by the great and the good of British TV, including Tim McInnerny as MI5 Director General, Mace (Darling from Blackadder) and Pride and Prejudice's Jennifer Ehle as snooty MI5 Deputy Director, Geraldine Maltby, whose accent confused me. It's two parts the cut-glass English vowels of Lizzy Bennet and one part American. IMDb informs me Ehle was born in North Carolina, so that explains that one…and has bearing on her role in Greater Good.

One could do a lot worse than Spooks: The Greater Good. It's exciting, shocking and cinematic, expanding on what made the TV show great but, unless you're a big Spooks fan, I would recommend waiting for the DVD.

Images: 'Spooks: The Greater Good' Facebook page.

Nobody Does It Worse | The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo - Film Review

This 2011 Bond film really did not impress me when I saw it on ITV2 the other week. Whilst being better than Quantum Of Solace, the last film featuring Daniel Craig as 007, The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo seemed like a strange departure for the long-running series. To begin with, having David Fincher as director seemed like a choice that, whilst in keeping with the current Bond trend of hiring left-field directors (e.g. Quantum's Marc Forster), seemed so left of centre that the film was in danger of falling off the map completely.

Thankfully, Fincher keeps things squarely in Sweden but the fact that the film remains in one country (albeit different locations within it) makes it feel a whole lot less epic that the usual continent-hopping Bond undertakes on his missions. I guess this is all part of keeping the series fresh and interesting.

A director known for dark and dirty work such as Alien3 and the music video for Paula Abdul's Forever Your Girl, Fincher, clearly a man who thinks of himself as some sort of auteur, brings his gloomy style to James Bond who, for some unexplained reason, goes under the alias Mikael Blomkvist for the entire film. Even M (now inexplicably recast with Robin Wright in the role, who is younger and blonder than dear Dame Judi - presumably in order to allow Bondkvist to sleep with her) now calls him "Mikael". 007 has gone so deep undercover, he's also lost his number, as well as his name.

Even the grand old institution of MI6 has undergone rebranding and is currently called 'Millennium'. David, mate, the turn of the century was over a decade ago. Get with the times, bro! Millenium's offices even look like a newspaper organisation and Bond now takes down villains by writing exposes about them, rather than infiltrating their secret lair and beating them in the face with his well-heeled foot. Formerly well-heeled, I should say, since 007 (not that he goes by this number anymore) has undergone something of a makeover since last we saw him.

Although never mentioned, Vesper's death in Casino Royale, which I thought had been dealt with in Quantum, continues to hit Bond hard (unless Girl takes place between those two films?) and he has really let himself go. He still wears sharp suits occasionally but only for court appearances etc but, for most of the film, he is a dishevelled wreck with bed hair, stubble, bad dress sense and, most disconcertingly of all, he has exchanged his traditional Vodka Martini for a coffee addiction. At least Bond has once again taken up smoking, as did previous Bondkvists Connery, Lazenby, Moore and Dalton.

Also troubling - and a presumed by-product of his grief for Vesper - Bond really feels the cold and gets scared when he's shot at. To add insult to injury, when a bullet nearly hits Bondkvist as he stalks the Swedish wilderness, rather than take cover and smoke out his enemy before deftly disarming him and giving him a good hiding, Bondkvist instead turns tail and runs away like a little girl, or, like a little girl might do when shot at, I mean, he doesn't actually run like a little girl, not that I know what they run like, nor what it is like to shoot at one. I only hunt game.

Regarding other aspects of 007 tradition, the well-known theme tune and gun barrel logo have gone for Girl but I suppose we should be grateful for small mercies that David Fincher at least opted to keep the established pre-titles teaser - even if it is just two old men talking about a flower - prior to the most disturbing title sequence the series has ever witnessed. Whilst The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo is a fine, Bondian title, reminiscent of The Man With The Golden Gun and there are echoes of the oil-drenched nudey ladies from The World Is Not Enough's opening titles, Girl's are a choppily edited affair that I think featured a brief glimpse of Daniel Craig (I saw his name, at least), along with various shots of keyboards, wires, flames, dragons and women being beaten up. Good Lord, this really is a departure! Who the blazes does this Fincher fellow think he is?!

The titular Girl herself is radically different from previous Bond Girls. She has what I presume is a fairly ordinary Swedish name, Lisbeth Salander - quite a cool name for a Bond Girl - and at least has a strong character with excellent computer skills, which is in keeping with Craig's Bond women not being dumb babes for James to save. Not only does he not save her, *she* has to deliver *him* from the jaws of death near the film's end! What the bloody hell is going on here? Have the Bond producers gone completely stark raving bonkers in their efforts to keep fresh their fifty-year-old franchise?! Blimey, whatever next? Handing over the next film to the bloke who directed American Beauty, having Bond shot by Moneypenny, then showing M's death as well by the end of the film? If that's where this series is headed, then I think I'll just stick to Tom Cruise's Bond-already-did-that Mission: Impossible films!! With Girl, the Bond franchise may have just once again surfed the CGI wave (e.g., gone completely over the top, even by its own standards) as with Die Another Day...

It's as if Fincher, obviously given carte blanche to do whatever the damn-it-all-to-Hell he pleases, thought that the best way to reinvent the franchise was to take a flame to everything that makes Bond Bond and create art from the ashes, messing with our minds by recasting M but also bringing back Octopussy's Steven Berkoff to play Dirch Frode.

Berkoff as Orlov in Octopussy

Berkoff as Frode in Girl

Fincher even goes so far as to make the Bond Girl the one with all the balls. Bondkvist is relegated to the rather feminine role of a writer - a disgraced one at that - who, whilst he still sleeps with other men's wives, needs a woman to save him. Bond is now the damsel in distress.

Near the end, Bondkvist is caught sneaking away from the villain's lair, which he has just had a snoop around. The villain, who at least has the cool name of Martin Vanger (Stellan Skarsgard), invites Bondkvist in for a drink, where our hero manages to nab a kitchen knife as he nervously makes small talk with his host, who clearly knows Bondkvist is up to no good. However, our hero lets fear get the better of him and completely wastes his opportunity to escape. Instead, he finds himself strapped up to a device that I presume is Fincher's twisted attempt at the sort of death trap concocted by Bond villains of old, like Goldfinger's emasculating laser table. Girl has the same effect on Bond altogether and the villain has Bondkvist chained up in a sort of a neck brace, making him sit awkwardly on a stool, having dropped the first, spiked, drink Vanger gave him. He is given another, which he physically cannot lift to his mouth with his chained wrist. Sitting uncomfortably and not being able to consume his drink. Bloody torture.

In fairness, it gets a whole lot worse. Vanger, while explaining his villainous schemes to Bondkvist (something about the former raping his own daughter, as well as torturing and killing other young women. Hardly suitable stuff for a Bond villain, really. Better if he'd fed them to a shoal of Piranha, I think), hoists him up so he's dangling from the ceiling by his hands, whilst Vanger suffocates him with a plastic bag. This is like Bond's torture scene was Fincher's favourite from Casino Royale and he's trying to top it. Its ending is even the same, with Bond requiring an ally to help him escape. Surely the great 007 could have got out of this himself and taken care of the mad sex-pest bondage man?

Sadly not, as it's up to Lisbeth to take care of business, which she does with only slightly less violence than she metes out earlier to Nils Bjurman (Yorick van Wageningen), her legal 'guardian'. The only thing that got me through the scenes where he sexually abuses her was the fact that he resembles the singer Michael Ball. It'll be difficult watching him perform now - singing, I mean, not perform sexually - without imagining him committing unspeakable acts of sexual violence on young women. I guess 'love' really does change everything. Nothing actually will ever, ever be the same after watching this film.

Come to think of it, I'm not entirely sure that The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo was even a Bond film?

Images courtesy of the film's Facebook page, Google and Michael Ball's official website.

Drummer Drama | Whiplash - Review

SPOILERS

All the music teachers who ever taught me were fearsome to some degree. It doesn't take a lot to scare me but Mrs. Jennings, Mr. Dickson and Mr. Clarke made most of their students nervous with their dictatorial methods. Even gentle choirmaster Mr. Storey could be tough at times. Mrs. Jennings wouldn't hesitate to single out one person in a roughly 60 strong middle school choir if they were mucking about. Mr. Dickson's anger probably just came from having a surname that was easily mockable by comprehensive school students and Mr. Clarke was, I think, just frustrated by my general slow progress with the violin. None of them, however, are a patch on Dr. Terence Fletcher in Whiplash, as played by J.K. Simmons, channelling some of the anger of his earlier, more comical, performance in Sam Raimi's Spider-Man films as Daily Bugle editor J. Jonah Jameson. Here, in a sense, he's gone from Peter Parker to Charlie Parker but now he's deadly serious.

Perhaps if these tutors had been half as tough on me as Fletcher is on his students then I might have reached greater musical heights (or given up faster). At least I still have my violin. Yet, as Whiplash demonstrates, the desire to be great must come from within, as it does with young Andrew Neyman (Miles Teller), who idolises Jazz legends Buddy Rich and Charlie Parker, AKA 'Bird'. 19 year old Andy's one goal in life is to be a drumming hero like his idols and he sees his chance to achieve this by impressing Fletcher - the Gunnery Sergeant Apone of upstate New York's Shaffer Conservatory of Music. Andy does this early on in the film and is willing to go to almost unbelievably extreme lengths to please a music teacher unhinged in his obsession with finding the next 'Bird' by bullying his students through shouting, name-calling, slapping, chair-throwing, insulting their parents and forcing them to relentlessly rehearse until they are on his tempo, or their fingers snap off. This dude is marching to a different drum, for sure - BOOM, BOOM!

Andy makes it into Fletcher's Studio Band as a 'squeaker' (someone who tunes and turns pages for the main drummer) and we learn about the band's existing musicians through the new boy's nervous eyes. They all seem ambivalent towards him, talking amongst themselves as they tune up. Then, apropos of nothing, a saxophonist shoots up from his seat and bellows 'MILK THE C**T!' This threw me and I didn't know if he was referring to Andy and what this would mean for the poor lad if he was, or whether the saxophonist meant Fletcher, whom they're expecting and who enters shortly after, instilling silence in the group. His behaviour from this point on easily justifies calling him a c**t but everyone pays him the utmost respect and fear.

My later Google search confirmed that the sweary saxophonist was commanding the pianist to play Middle C in order for other band members to tune their instruments to it. It seems extreme language for such a thing, yet it's indicative of the sort of aggressive, tough atmosphere that Fletcher has created, to hear one of his musicians talk like that. It's not a phrase I remember hearing amongst middle school or church choirs, so it must just be a jazz band thing. If any jazz musicians are reading this, please feel free to let me know in the comments.

Camaraderie is somewhat rare in Fletcher's band, unsurprisingly, given the overt competition he engenders. His underhand tactics also cause friction the like of which would surely be unhelpful in reality for keeping a band together enough to reach the heights Fletcher expects ('Fletcher Expects' would be a slogan on posters all over Shaffer, were it not engraved on its students' hearts and souls) in his musical cult. Andy abandons friends, girls and neglects his family in his pursuit of greatness under Fletcher's eye. Yet, Andy has chosen this ascetic life and Fletcher is only too happy to take advantage of the boy's decision. He has the perfect pupil in Andy - one for whom drumming is a religion and who is happy to let Fletcher be his god. Andy has the kind of self-belief I only dreamt of at 19; the kind of focus and bloody-mindedness required to achieve a goal but at the cost of everything else in his life. The question Whiplash prompts is, is it worth it? Why is Fletcher seemingly the only way to greatness for Andy? No. There must be other teachers capable of pushing him to the next level but we only see Mr. Kramer at the beginning, who is softer on students and defers to Fletcher as they do.

At one point, Andy profanely berates another band member down the phone, Fletcher-style, whilst speeding to an important gig at a concert hall in a hired car. Andy's rant is cut short, however by a crash so realistically forceful, I actually felt like his passenger. Less believable, though, is the fact that, after crawling out of the wreck bleeding and shaken, Andy races to the concert hall to drum. It's not that he manages to keep playing following the crash but that his drive (so to speak) and obsession with drumming is so intense, he won't even let a car accident stop him. I went along with this whilst watching the film but felt less convinced afterwards.

If I were Andy, I personally would have given up after Fletcher's abuse during the first studio session. I guess this is the point, though. Andy wants drumming glory so badly that he thinks he must convince Fletcher he's the right drummer for 'Whiplash' to get the chance to impress the industry bods at the performance. Doing this whilst suffering from actual whiplash isn't likely to achieve that goal, though.

Andy's dedication is admirable but also sad in that all he wants in life is to be a great drummer and we get no indication of why except a video of him impressing his dad with a drum solo as a little boy. I think, when we the audience are expected to watch a lead character so closely, we deserve a little more explanation. The father and son relationship is a touching one and a cornerstone of the film. Fletcher threatens to supersede the mild-mannered Jim Neyman (Paul Reiser - Burke from Aliens, I'd wondered what had happened to him over the years!) as a father figure in being someone who not only truly understands Andy's goal in life - unlike his real Dad, who only seems tolerant of it - but may help him fulfil it, just by the most brutal means necessary. Fletcher later explains that he's as tough as he is because he is trying to give the world the next Charlie Parker, which won't happen if he goes easy on students. There is possibly some unresolved trauma of Fletcher's own also coming into play but Andy seems to understand and respect the older man's reasoning. I would argue that greatness doesn't have to come from boot camp tactics, surely there must be great drummers out there who reached the heights they did through respectful encouragement and pushing from their teachers? That and lots of practice and sacrifice.

I love a good bully vs victim story and Whiplash is a fine example. Just watching the abuse Andy takes from Fletcher in the trailer made me want the kid to ram his drumsticks up his tutor's nostrils until they burst out of the Professor's shiny, bald, veiny head. Instead and no doubt for the better, the film forgoes such a retaliatory route for a more interesting one. We don't get to see Andy beat up Fletcher (not exactly, anyway), or Jim Neyman rumble with him, which would have taken the satisfaction away from watching Andy bring him down a note or two later. Happily, Andy does grab life by the drumsticks in the end.

Prior to the concert hall performance, Andy thankfully starts to fight back against Fletcher's bullying once his progress is threatened after the Professor gives Andy's 'Whiplash' part to another drummer. This comes to a head when Andy tackles his teacher to the floor. When Fletcher loses his job at Shaffer after his methods cause serious problems and blames Andy for the sacking, he embarrasses his former student in front of a band and a live audience, including Neyman Sr. All that's left for Andy to do is play Fletcher at his own game, using his drumming - what he's best at - to regain self-respect and, more importantly, the respect of the audience (off-screen and on).

This seems to be a theme with drummers, since, earlier, Fletcher recalls Charlie Parker's drive to excel stemming from his desire not to be laughed at again after a disastrous early performance, followed by a dressing-down from his own music tutor. Of Fletcher, Jim asks Andy, 'His opinion really matters to you, doesn't it?' It matters too much. Yet, why else would any performer get up and do their thing in front of others in the first place, if not to gain their approval? Even though the final, rousing (and overlong) number shows Andy taking control over Fletcher, is it also Andy wanting to earn back his former teacher's respect, even after Fletcher's horrible treatment of him and fellow musicians?

Not being a Jazz fan didn't impede my enjoyment of a film (although if you hate Jazz, it could be a struggle) where the drumming isn't the focus but the drama of someone who must overcome the monster to be the best.

Transcending Borders | Open Bethlehem - Review

Leila Sansour looking over Bethlehem

The Israel-Palestine conflict is something that Christian arts festival Greenbelt has worked hard to raise awareness of. It was a constant element of the 2009/10 festivals I attended, being the subject of various talks, films, etc. I did make an effort to engage but struggled to get my head around the politics of it all. Also, whilst it's commendable of Greenbelt to bring it to people's attention, I felt a bit like it was being forced down my throat, which put me off, perhaps selfishly, given that the problems occurred in the heartland of the faith held by many Greenbelters, myself included. My ambivalence was also, to my shame, partly because the conflict was not on my doorstep and so I cared less about it than other issues closer to home. Nor did I really have the resources to go and do anything to help, although I admired those who did.

Aside from talks, etc, 'Soldiers' also guarded the 'borders' between different sections of the festival site, demanding to see people's passports - a show to represent an aspect of daily life for those living in Israel and Palestine. Coincidentally, Open Bethlehem features many religious, political and media figures from around the world, including former Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams, as well as former US President, Jimmy Carter, amongst others, showing off mock-up Bethlehem passports. This was in aid of the Open Bethlehem campaign which is a large part of the film. It is written, directed, produced and presented by Leila Sansour, a Palestinian filmmaker who has dedicated a decade of her life to documenting the hardship caused by the wall dividing Palestine and Israel, including the little town of Bethlehem, where she grew up.

Visual gimmicks really help me get into documentaries, such as the funky animations in Morgan Spurlock's Super Size Me. Aside from the mock passport, Open Bethlehem had an animated version of Leila's little red car flying across Israel, transcending borders, which helped lighten the often necessarily downbeat tone. If the real version of her car had been able to do this, I might've enjoyed the film even more but it probably would've detracted from the story somewhat.

I thought that watching Open Bethlehem might ignite more of a passion in me about the Israel-Palestine conflict than Greenbelt had. Plus, it made a change from watching sci-fi epics like 2001 and Interstellar. I foudd the film passionate, serious, focused and, at times, surprisingly amusing (e.g. the car). Yet, it failed to get me fired up about the issue enough to leave me thinking much about it afterwards, or even considering a visit to Israel to see things for myself - the only thing that could help me fully understand it. However, the human interest stories in the film did enable me to empathise better with those living in such a dire situation. The effect of the wall on Laila and her family was particularly saddening.

Further enhancing the tragedy of it all was the highlighting of the fact that it has been happening in the Holy Land - a place intended as the home of God's chosen people and the birth of Judaism and Christianity. Leila herself mournfully ponders the lack of miracles in Jesus' - and her - homeland. It will certainly take a few to bring down the wall and an end to the conflict. Leila seems to have lost whatever religious faith she may have had but not faith in herself or the hope that things can change.

Open Bethlehem failed to light a revolutionary fire within me. This was not least because, after all Leila's impassioned searching and campaigning, she and her supporters had still not managed to bring about any lasting change as of 2013, where the film ends. Admirably, she is still fighting and hopefully, further Open Bethlehem screenings will make some difference.

Meeting other audience members afterwards, a lot of them were already passionate about the Israel-Palestine situation and the film only made them more so, with some preparing to visit Israel and see what they could do to help. There was an information stall for the Norwich Palestine Solidarity Campaign, as well as a discussion about issues raised by the film. If we had also been given Bethlehem passports on our way out, then that would have been the crushed walnuts on the Caraway Pudding!

A further screening of Open Bethlehem is scheduled at Cinema City again on March 2nd, 2015 but only if enough tickets are sold, so, if you are interested about learning more about this issue, are passionate about it, or just want to see a well-made documentary in the cinema, then you can book here.

Discover more about the Open Bethlehem film & campaign at the official website here.

Where's Flatley? | Lord Of The Dance: Dangerous Games - Review

'FLATLEY'. The name sits proudly in white caps above the title as it flashes on a gigantic screen on the London Palladium stage.The Lord of the Dance is back and this time, he is playing….a Dangerous Game. Or rather, it is a 'dangerous game' for the followers of FLATLEY's 'old Lord' - apparently 'gone…FOREVER!', according to Thomas Cunningham's Dark Lord - to bring a new one into being, yet this they do, in the Flatleyesque form of James Keegan, to do battle with Dark Lord and his own forces (quite what for is left open to interpretation). That's pretty much the whole story for nearly two hours of what looks like a tour de force of Michael FLATLEY's greatest hits. Without Michael FLATLEY.

Just to be clear, I'm not really a fan of the Flat-man, I bought this on DVD for my parents and couldn't resist watching it whilst they had it on. There's something kind of hypnotic about Irish dancing and who doesn't enjoy a bit of Good vs. Evil action…with shapely ladies?

Anyway, Flatley is credited onscreen as Creator, Director, Producer & Choreographer, yet on the DVD back cover, he's only Executive Producer. It's a dangerous game indeed to play with audience's expectations, which is what Flatley seems to be doing by stamping his name above the title of and including a prominent photo in the artwork for a production in which he doesn't feature in person until roughly ten minutes before the end. Half of those minutes include pre-recorded footage, featuring three versions of the old Lord (the Flatley Trinity?) all dancing in sequence on a triptych of onstage screens. I dunno, you wait for one Flatley and four arrive at once. To give him his due - and as the man himself proudly narrates in an unnecessary and self-congratulatory short primer video before Dangerous Games begins - Michael Flatley had to overcome various 'brick walls' in order to bring the original Lord Of The Dance to sell-out audiences worldwide twenty years ago, not to mention follow-ups like Feet Of Flames and Celtic Tiger. I'm surprised he didn't bring these up also but, if he'd listed all of his dancing achievements, that could've taken up the whole show. Before this intro, there's a weird pre-recorded bit with Flatley, a little boy (his son?) and an old clock, which explodes into pieces in a moment reminiscent of the latest Doctor Who title sequence, leading, aptly enough, into this show's title.

In fairness to Flatley, at 56, his feet of flames probably don't burn as brightly or for as long as once they did and so the new Lord does the bulk of the dancing here. I thought Keegan was a different person coming on at some points, an easy mistake to make given that most of the male dancers are all tall, sturdy, blonde doppel-Flatley's, given to proclaiming what sounds like 'HOO! HEE! HOO! HARGH!' at various points, which I think was meant to be counting in Gaelic. The dancing itself is what you'd expect if you've seen Riverdance, etc - lots of vigorous leg-flinging and leaping about, mostly with hands on hips or flat by the sides, except for the odd manly pose. Flatley's signature shape features every now and again, thrown by Keegan and the Flat-man himself near the end. Could it have given Usain Bolt ideas? ...

                                

I'm no dancer, so I doubt I could ever achieve the physical prowess of the performers here but, after the hour mark, the moves start to feel a bit repetitive, since legs can only be thrown in a certain number of natural directions before something goes wrong. I'm surprised that no-one got accidentally kicked square in the shacklackerties (Irish slang for goolies…possibly) by a steel-toecapped jig shoe during the dance-off between the duelling Lords at the end.

The admittedly impressive dancing, some of the music, copious close-ups of dancers' toned legs and bums, as well as wondering when Flatley would appear did keep me entertained throughout. More than anything, though, I enjoyed checking the show's sci-fi influences. The Dark Lord himself looked like a budget cross between the Terminator, RoboCop and a Borg from Star Trek: The Next Generation (not the cooler First Contact movie versions, the shonky TV ones, who could still have easily assimilated this 'Dark Lord' fool.) His minions share the same tailor and look even ropier than the TNG Borg. During one scene featuring the metal mickeys, the backdrop displays two large CGI vehicles that look like a cross between Terminator's Hunter Killer robots and RoboCop's ED-209. The lighting display during the title song performance (by Girl Aloud Nadine Coyle as Erin The Goddess) was ripped straight out of The Matrix. Couldn't a Goddess take care of a Dark Lord quicker than another Lord, even if he is Of The Dance? Guess not.

Given that Lord Of The Dance is supposed to be based on Irish folklore, having the baddies being robotic seems a bit disingenuous, even if there was an intended juxtaposition between their technical superiority (such as it is) and the goodies' reliance on natural methods like music and magic. It's all bloody dancing anyway, so the machinery is rather redundant.

I think the original LOTD featured more magical villains and this new show should have kept it that way, given the cheapness of the costumes and most of the CGI backdrop animations. When The Dark Lord comes to (spoiler) kill the Lord Of The Dance, the production couldn't even be bothered with a prop gun for their supposedly machine-minded bad guy, who instead puts his fingers into a gun shape and mimes the shot. I guess, if he's part robot, he can shoot bullets from his fingers? If Alice Upcott's bendy Little Spirit gets a magic tin whistle, why can't the main villain have a weapon? When Dark Lord (boo! hiss!) breaks the whistle, Little Spirit sadly takes it to the young Lord Of The Dance for repair. After trying in vain to piece it back together, he briefly makes a face that suggests the budget couldn't stretch to a replacement one but then reaches behind him to reveal a new whistle, presumably pulled out of his arse, and gives her that. She seems happy with it.

In a show that even features Nadine Coyle stepping out of her comfort zone and singing live for a change, how hard would it have been to get Little Spirit to actually play the original Lord Of The Dance hymn on her whistle, rather than have her mime it? I guess this is too much to expect when even the show's above-the-title star doesn't appear live until very near the end.

When Flatley does finally deign to show his face, it's accompanied by a lot of amusing pointing at the audience, kissing and sashaying with lady performers and repeating his old moves, which we've already watched Keegan do for the last hour and a half. Still, seeing old Flirtley prance about and lead his ensemble like an old pro is fun to watch and the audience are lapping it up, even if the old Lord isn't as ripped as he used to be. Fatley milks their pleasure by repeating the Lord Of The Dance refrain twice, which is irresistibly exciting but I think I'll refrain from watching the live version of Dangerous Games. It's on at London's Dominion Theatre from 13th March 2015, if you must go. You could just buy the DVD for about a fiver, like I did.

Image credit: Michael Flatley & Usain Bolt's Facebook pages