LOOK

LOOK
Euston Road
Oct 2014

'71-MOVIE REVIEW

In 1974, as a student in the UK, I took a train from Edinburgh to London, sharing a compartment with a young squaddie back from duty in Northern Ireland. A ginger-haired Geordie with bad teeth and long bright red sideboards out of kilter with his close-cropped hair, I personally witnessed him drink 19 bottles of Newkie Brown (and somehow miraculously not pass out) whilst he railed on about life in the Army. I was a young product of US Southern life of roughly the same age, and I was amazed, appalled, and frightened, to be frank, as he would tilt over towards me and confide in beery breath: "British army, Best in the world, mate". I would nod and resume nursing the beers he proffered me as his drinking taillights disappeared into the distance.

I saw the movie '71 last night about a young squaddie in Belfast in 1971, and I was taken back to that train compartment, and I realised that then, and perhaps now, I just did not have a feckin' clue.

'71 is an astounding first film from Yann Demange about the kaleidoscopic moral inferno which was Northern Ireland at that time. It is a film where the bad guys are indistinguishable from the good guys, where fear, hatred, intimidation, treachery, manipulation, strength, frailty, stupidity and even mercy all exist side by side in a hellish maelstrom. The hero is a young squaddie from Derbyshire played brilliantly by Jack O'Connell (watch him and learn) who is caught behind enemy lines (ie. on the wrong side of the street in Catholic Belfast) when a house search goes horrible wrong, a riot ensues, and he is separated from his squad with a fellow squaddie who gets his face blown off. O'Connell is the type of actor who says little but says everything with a glance, a dip of the head. His performance is mesmerising, and halfway through the movie you find you have been drawn into his terror, your stomach knotted with fear, as somehow he has to survive the night and escape in an utterly alien landscape with, as they say "the enemy within."

There are almost too many fine performances to pick out. Kudos to Demange for extracted every last ounce from everybody, and making everyone very very believable. There is an astounding cameo from a young Loyalist kid old way beyond his years, the nephew of a para-military commander who intimidates everyone twice his size as he roams the night plotting against the Finian basterds. There are so many discordant notes in this symphony: the rat faced ruthless intelligence officer, the posh lieutenant in way over his head, the West Indian staff sergeant trying to mold young scared soldiers who can't see who they are fighting or why, the dead eyed young IRA footsoldier press-ganged by the Provos into becoming a gunman, the ex-Army doctor and his daughter who save O'Connell's life. It is a world where black and white have long disappeared into the grey of moral confusion from which no-one emerges unscathed. 

And this is all woven by the gifted conductor Demange into a masterwork which captures the sharp ambiguity, if that is possible, of those times. As I replayed the movie in my mind in the middle of the night (always a sign of a very good film) it brought back those memories of a naive schoolboy next to a drunk boy who had already become a man whether he wanted to or not. I really didn't have a feckin' clue. 

**** 

250. A film of film

     250

A film of film

         by 

 D. Eric Pettigrew

    

      Music by 

Roman Tobias Pettigrew

250 images. 250 memories. 250 moments in a life.

THE Ts OF MARRIAGE

I saw a programme about India's Hill Railways. At one point, a man who had been married for 28 years and whose obvious happiness was borne in the love he shared with his wife, said the following about marriage.

Marriage is about four Ts.

TRUST.

TOUCH.

TALK.

and

TIME.

True words. Simple. But simple things last.

PERSPECTIVE

These are three views of the same painting in our friend's house in Asthall, a painting which changes as you walk down the hall in much the same manner as the eyes which follow you around the room. It is all a matter of perspective, as explained Leonardo Da Vinci in his notebook. Mathematics. The brain. The vanishing point. Perspective.

PERSPECTIVE

Asthall
June 2014

THE ROAD AND THE CONCRETE: LOCKE. starring Tom Hardy

Where does a road lead? Away, especially if you have resolved not to turn back. Locke is a road movie, but a road movie unlike any you have seen before. One road, one man, one night. A journey inside the mind and heart of a man whose life is about to change forever. A road trip which hurtles unavoidably towards a denouement and proves that an action movie needn't have much action in order to be taut, compelling, and totally engaging.

Locke is a construction project manager responsible for pouring the foundation of gargantuan buildings. His character is like the concrete he pours; dense, slow, measured, and ultimately solid. Each pour is a complicated mix of materials, men, red tape, and timing, and there is no room for mistakes. Everything must be perfect. First time. Only time.  Except it isn't, of course. Humans are involved, with all their foibles. There is a crack in the edifice, and the crack has to do with a woman. Locke is leaving his job to attend the birth of a child he has fathered as the result of a one-night stand with an unstable older woman who has made her own choice. They don't know it yet, but he is leaving behind his wife and the two boys he adores. He is also quitting his job the night before the biggest non-nuclear project pour ever in Europe.

But you don't know this immediately (unless you have read this). All you know are the hands-free phone conversations that Locke (played immaculately by Tom Hardy in a mellifluous Welsh accent) has with his boss, his Irish tippler assistant Donal, his wife and kids, and the other woman. All you see is Locke's face and the reflections of the lights in the rain as the road draws him inexorably through the night towards London and an uncertain future.

Locke is faced with a perfect storm of unpalatable choices of his own creation. His dialogue with his wife (played admirably by Ruth Wilson), his other woman and his work colleagues are excruciating. And exhausting. The night rolls on. Locke has to decide. The road or concrete. Crack, or crack on.

A must see.

Five stars. 

THE DUCK AND THE SQUARE

THE THINKING MAN'S DUCK

Islington

May 2014

RED SQUARE

Burlington Vt

April 2014

THE CORRIDORS OF YOUR LIFE

I wrote this many years ago, for my friends John and Lynn Herbert. Our lives are intertwined.

I have dedicated this to my wife Christina, who has shown me after 34 years just what love means, and has taken me down the corridors of my heart.

And the music is by my son Toby, who has written so many songs that are etched on my heart, knowing that he too will open a door in the corridor of his life.

THE DIET

YOU MAY WANT TO SCALE BACK ON THAT DIET, SWEETHEART!

Burlington VT

April 2014

ISTANBUL (NOT CONSTANTINOPLE)

MEMORIES OF ISTANBUL (NOT CONSTANTINOPLE)