the summer book…

Moira and I escaped the heat and disappeared to the cool of the Watershed cinema to see Charlie McDowell’s adaptation of Tove Jansson’s 1972 book ‘The Summer Book’.
An elderly artist, her recently-widowed son and her 6-year-old granddaughter (Sophia) while away a summer together on a tiny island off the gulf of Finland.
The bulk of the film, like the book, is an account of the relationship between the old, cantankerous, cigarette-smoking woman (rather delightfully played by Glenn Close) and her grandchild… Frequently funny and full of candid, sometimes argumentative, conversations between them. The location is beautiful and their simple, isolated, summer lifestyle enviable. Nothing much actually happens but, in many ways, that’s the film’s charm.
Fundamentally, it’s a film which conveys thoughts about passing time, memory, wisdom, loss and nature and, like the book, I really enjoyed it.
PS: I first read this book more than 50 years ago and re-read again it last year (Jansson – who died in 2001, aged 86 – spent several summers living on the island). Jansson wrote the book a year after her mother’s death and she drew on the things that were most precious to her.  When I re-read the book last year, I was struck by the fact that, when I first read it, I wasn’t a grandparent… and now there are 6 grandchildren – three of them are adults!).

odyssey…

It was long (2hrs 53mins), it was loud… and, yes, it was impressive.
I went along to the Watershed this afternoon to see Christopher Nolan’s film ‘Odyssey’ (Moira was put off by the film’s length) – featuring, among others, Matt Damon and Anne Hathaway.
You probably know the bones of the story: Odysseus, king of Ithaca, embarks on a perilous journey to return home after the Trojan War… but, crossing the Mediterranean Sea with his fellow soldiers, they soon find themselves battling not only the elements, but an array of deadly obstacles and mythical creatures along the way. Odysseus’s perilous homecoming journey after the ten-year-long Trojan War (plus his journey from Troy to Ithaca - lasting an ADDITIONAL ten years, during which time he encounters many perils and all of his crewmates are killed) – with the survivors no doubt suffering from PTSD. In Odysseus's long absence, he is presumed dead, leaving his wife Penelope and son Telemachus to contend with a group of unruly suitors competing for Penelope's hand in marriage.
Apparently, in 2018, BBC Culture polled ‘experts’ around the world to find literature's most enduring narrative… and Homer’s ‘Odyssey’ topped the list.
The film has received a high number of rave reviews and, yes, it WAS very impressive… but I’m afraid this type of ‘Hollywood blockbuster’ is really not for me.
I’m not really a fan of ‘action-packed drama’ at the best of times and, on top of that, old codger that I am(!), I’m afraid I often struggled with much of the hoarse, breathy, whispered tones of many of the actors (usually American, sorry!)… yes, it all sounds very dramatic, but actually leaves me wanting them to use sub-titles!
But, hey, if you’ve got the time, please go and see it for yourself.
PS: The afternoon screenings tend to attract a somewhat older audience(!) and, as you might imagine, this afternoon’s showing featured a fairly regular line of people making their way to the loo (not me, I hasten to add!).  

blue heron...

It seems like an awful long time since I last went to the Watershed (very nearly 2 months!), but I’m really pleased that I made the effort to go this afternoon.
I went to see Canadian film-maker Sophy Romvari’s excellent, powerful, painful film about a
Hungarian immigrant family grappling with oppositional defiant disorder (ODD - a behavioural condition in children and teens characterised by a persistent pattern of angry or irritable moods, argumentative and defiant behaviour, or vindictiveness).
On a flippant level (I’d never previously heard about such a condition – I was totally ignorant), it seemed to me to sum up the behaviour of a lot of children at the end of the long school summer holidays(!)… but it’s absolutely NOT. It’s an utterly awful disorder.
The film is set on Vancouver Island in the 1990s. A young girl, aged 7-8 years, named Sasha (Eylul Guven), lives with her two brothers and older teen half-brother Jeremy (Edik Beddoes). They’ve just arrived at their new house; their parents (played by Iringó Réti and Ádám Tompa) are Hungarian and, emotionally, they’re all really, really struggling. Jeremy is deeply troubled and his behavioural condition means he refuses to cooperate with his parents’ increasingly desperate requests. He behaves destructively and dangerously, threatening to burn the house down, and is often brought home by the police in handcuffs.
As you will appreciate, the film is NOT a bundle of laughs… but it IS utterly compelling and somewhat underplayed (thankfully) and definitely not ‘in the Hollywood style’.
In fact, the film is partly autobiographical - based on Romvari’s own childhood experiences with her own troubled brother… with the film’s Sasha being upset by Jeremy’s behaviour in a way that her brothers aren’t. The mysterious condition wounds Sasha as a child and even more so as an adult – with the adult Sasha (played by Amy Zimmer) working as a film-maker and played in flash-forward scenes (including videoing a panel of social workers discussing Jeremy’s case).  
I found it a very moving, dignified film which (in the words of CBC Arts review) “beautifully blends documentary and fiction to explore the slippery, often unreliable nature of childhood memory”. The kind of film that will linger in my memory (in a good way).

the christophers…

Moira and I went along to the Watershed this morning (yes, morning… AND at the weekend too!) to see Steven Soderbergh’s film 'The Christophers', starring Ian McKellen and Michaela Coel.  

In the 1960s, Julian Sklar (McKellen) was a fixture of the London art scene, but he now lives in cluttered, self-imposed seclusion – something of a forgotten man (he’d been reduced from an illustrious household name to a man who sells spiteful video messages on ‘OnlyFans’!). Meanwhile, Julian’s estranged children (concerned that their inheritance was being depleted by Julian’s extravagant tastes and lack of output over the decades) have discovered an unfinished series of portraits in their father’s attic from Julian’s most prolific and successful period – inspired by his relationship with a man he called Christopher. They would like Lori (Coel), an ‘art restorer’ and an old art school acquaintance, to restore the canvases… and by ‘restore’ they mean forge them. I think I’d better leave it at that (* no spoilers)…

In fact, although the storyline had some merit, I thought the film’s main value related to the excellence of the acting and the chemistry between them. McKellen was predictably brilliant in a role that brought out the wealth of his acting talents – self-obsession/self-pity, charm, acidly witty observations and casual cruelty. I’d never previously come across Coel, but I thought she was perfect in her calm, ‘art restorer’/potential faker role. All played out by the two of them in a lovely, gentle, entertaining way.
The other aspect of the film that I found absolutely enchanting was Julian’s chaotic bohemian townhouse… someone must have really enjoyed themselves creating a film set of such convincing (and fascinating) clutter!
All in all, a very entertaining, enjoyable and rather lovely film.
PS: Perhaps my only gripe (and Moira agreed with me) was to do with the clarity of the dialogue at times (a regular issue with films for me these days)(American movies are the worse offenders!). I know my hearing isn’t 100%, but there were times when I did yearn for sub-titles (I know!).

rose of nevada…

I went along to the Watershed yesterday afternoon to see Mark Jenkins’ film about a ghost ship. It’s a mysterious drama steeped in loss, memory and the uncertainties of coastal life. The film begins with a local fisherman, in a depressed fishing town, who is astonished to find a vanished trawler, lost 30 years before in a storm, bobbing innocuously in the harbour. The boat has returned from the dead… but how on earth has this happened? The man seeks out the widow of one of the drowned fishermen (a woman with two grown-up daughters) and tells her the boat has returned…
Its reappearance is embraced as an auspicious sign, with the local citizens convinced the luck of their economically devastated community may turn, if only the ship sails again. And so it’s decided that the boat should be put to work… and an old captain (Francis Magee) is recruited, along with two young crew members, Nick and Liam (George MacKay and Callum Turner)(I particularly loved MacKay’s performance). Liam ('boozy, drifter') flirts with the lost fisher’s daughter in a pub; she gives him a present of her late dad’s old red cap, which he wears on board.
In due course, they return from their fishing trip with their boat bulging with fish… but everything has changed… the town seems busier, people are smoking in the pub and everything's more lively than before. The awful truth is that they have gone back in time to 1993, three years before Nick’s birth, and everyone in town thinks that Nick and Liam are the two men who vanished. How come? It’s all very disturbing… what about Nick’s partner and child? But Liam has simply accepted the situation - an agreeable new reality of living with the widow – that is, the mother of the woman he had been flirting with – as a husband and father.
Reality? A happier future than the one that actually happened or a premonition of disaster and gloom from 30 years ago?
It’s an impressive, eerie, elusive, complex and haunting film (cleverly put together, where appropriate, to give the impression of times past/time slip) – exploring the realities (and unrealities!) of life in a fishing village, with its constant presence of death and the pressures of making a living for families and communities.
Gives a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘Gone Fishing’!

orwell 2+2=5…

I went along to the Watershed again this morning (11am showing – for old retirees like me!)(surprisingly, there must have been an audience of some 80-100) to see Raoul Peck’s film about the Nineteen Eighty-Four novelist.
Obviously, one appreciates that going to watch a documentary film about George Orwell isn’t going to be a bundle of laughs(!) – particularly when we have a madman like Trump ‘in charge’ of a significant portion of the western world - and so it proved. Listening to Orwell’s prose (read by Damian Lewis) from his published works, letters and diaries is a sobering experience (albeit strangely invigorating). I don’t think I’d been fully aware that he’d written his ‘1984’ masterpiece when he was so close to his death (the book was published in 1949, he died the following year).  
It’s a very impressive film.
Obviously, with all footage available of past+present totalitarian/scary regimes, the documentary was spoilt for choice as far as illustrative examples were concerned. Orwell actually predicted the rise of AI and, of course, we now have the internet when it comes ‘information’ availability (and, with it, ‘fake news’ and propaganda). The documentary also includes present-day videos involving the likes of Trump, Orban, Modi, Netanyahu and Putin. No doubt, Orwell would have just nodded and said “I told you so”!
Overall, while I thought the documentary film was excellent, there are lots of gaps when it comes to some of the somewhat controversial aspects of Orwell’s life (eg. his anti-Semitic views in his younger days) and so there were times when I almost felt I was being ‘manipulated’ and that perhaps I wasn’t being given a more balanced view of things (but, hey, don’t get me wrong – I’m on Orwell’s side!).
It was a very powerful film and yet, somewhat predictably, also a pretty depressing one. It left me feeling very sad about how things might pan out in the coming years – not my future, of course, but my children’s children’s futures.
Oh for a simple, beautiful world of decency, integrity, honesty, respect and love.

sirât...

I went along to the Watershed again yesterday (it had been a few weeks since my last cinema outing!) to see Oliver Laxe’s film Sirât. I’d noticed that the film had been nominated for two Oscars (Best International Feature and Best Sound) and so thought ‘I’d give it a go’. I got to the cinema 15minutes before the show started and decided to check on Peter Bradshaw’s (from The Guardian) film review – as I often do – only to find that he’d given it a mere 2-star rating. Nevermind, I thought, I’m here now!
Set in the dusty mountains of southern Morocco, a father (Luis) and his son have arrived at a rave (miles from anywhere) searching for Mar - daughter and sister - who vanished months ago at one of these endless, sleepless parties. Hope is fading, but they push through and follow a group of ravers heading to one last party in the desert…
Well, although it wasn’t quite my kind of music, I can well understand why the film had been nominated for ‘Best Sound’ (Kangding Ray’s suitably rave-like soundtrack was intoxicating… and very loud!) but, after a while, as the story unfolded, I started to ask myself “is that it?”. I could imagine a group of drug-induced film executives sitting around a conference table and discussing what would make a suitable film… music, hippies, drugs, mountains, deserts, beaten-up buses and people dying? Really (I thought)??
I’m afraid I came out at the end of the film feeling somewhat underwhelmed (understatement!).
I don’t normally do this but, in the circumstances (and the fact I have little to say when it comes to any kind of assessment), I’ll leave you with Peter Bradshaw’s words: “…Well, the dual narrative possibilities and consequences of Mar’s discovery or non-discovery fade away into nothingness as the story disappears into the sand, as does the question of whether the hippies and Luis could conceivably learn from each other. In their shock and despair after the tumultuous events that follow, they take psychoactive substances and dance to electronic music thumping out of their speakers. The film’s doors of perception remain closed. Sirāt is a path to nowhere, an improvised spectacle in the Sahara; it is very impressive in the opening 10 minutes but valueless as it proceeds, and a pointless mirage of unearned emotion”.
You can’t win all the time (or am I just a boring old codger?!).

hamnet...

Moira and I went along to the Watershed yesterday to see Chloé Zhao’s film based on Maggie O’Farrell’s extraordinary, brilliant book (which I read 5 years ago) – which reimagines the agonising loss of a child as the source of Hamlet’s grand stage drama. It locates the play’s beginning in the imagined anguish of Shakespeare and his wife, Anne/Agnes Hathaway, at the death of their son Hamnet at the age of 11 in 1596 (apparently, there’s linguistic evidence that the two names could be used interchangeably) a few years before the play’s first performance - and long before Shakespeare had started to become recognised in London for his writing. It’s an incredibly painful and stark reminder of a time when disease was rife and childhood death common.
The performances of Paul Mescal (Will) and Jessie Buckley (Agnes) are quite, quite brilliant … and also the performances of their children (played by Jacobi Jupe, Olivia Lines and Bodhi Rae Breathnach) were beautifully impressive – as was the cinematography by Łukasz Żal and the score by Max Richter.
After having read O’Farrell’s magnificent book, there was part of me that didn’t want to see the film on the basis that it wouldn’t do the book justice… but I needn’t have worried, it’s been wonderfully adapted (O’Farrell and Zhao were screenplay co-writers).
I cried… I think you might cry too.
Just go and see it… you MUST. 

prime minister…

I went along to the Watershed again this afternoon – this time to see the documentary film ‘Prime Minister’ about New Zealand’s former PM, Jacinda Ardern (directed by Lindsay Utz+Michelle Walshe). It follows her for seven years as she is catapulted to the top of NZ politics, becomes a feminist political icon, a mother, resigns suddenly from office and continues to champion the fight against isolationism, fear, and the distortion of truth(!).
To me, she was an utter breath of fresh air during her term of NZ’s leader (and will no doubt continue to be an inspirational figure outside politics) – sincere, personable, smart, decent, respectful, and empathetic.
I think The Guardian’s Peter Bradshaw summed things up in his review of the film when he wrote: “Jacinda Ardern emerges from this documentary portrait the way she did when she was in power from 2017 to 2023 … as a human being. More than any politician anywhere in the world in my adult lifetime, she looked like an actual member of the human race who was catapulted to office too fast to have acquired the defensive carapace of the professional politician. She was vulnerable and scrutable and likable in ways utterly alien to everyone else”. Meanwhile, The Telegraph described it thus: “a shameless act of self-promotion” (no surprises there perhaps… but grossly unfair in my opinion).
As you might imagine, yes, this is clearly a ‘sympathetic’ film – no doubt edited to avoid some of day-to-day infighting of internal politics… but it also shows her having to deal with such horrors as the Christchurch mosque shootings with huge compassion AND managing to ban assault rifles within a matter of days of the ordeal (are you listening America?). When Covid came along, Ardern dealt with matters both effectively and skilfully. New Zealand seemed to have been miraculously spared the worst of the outbreak, but then a new wave struck and a threatening new far-right anti-vax mob made their encampment outside parliament. That didn’t mark the end of Ardern’s time as PM but, watching the documentary, I was certainly struck by the thought ‘Why do they bother?’ – when people in her position have to withstand such appalling hate, abuse and threats – and I suspect she felt the same.
Again and again, during the film, I found myself contrasting Ardern’s compassionate, considered actions and words with Trump’s present-day non-stop narcissist rantings and disregard for facts and truthfulness.
I was in two minds about going to see this film… but I’m very glad that I did. It was a reminder about how things still COULD be (if only the world was more compassionate – some hope!?). There are very, very few films I’ve seen where the cinema audience bursts into applause at the end… they certainly did here!! Probably not Telegraph readers(!)…

the thing with feathers…

I went along to the Watershed this afternoon to see Dylan Southern’s film, based on Max Porter’s book ’Grief Is The Thing With Feathers’ (which I’d read 9 years ago). The film is a lyrical exploration of love, loss and the strange ways we heal.
Following the death of his wife, a young father’s hold on reality crumbles, and a strange presence begins to stalk him from the shadowy recesses of the apartment he shares with his two young sons (Benedict Cumberbatch is rather wonderful as the father). The two young boys face the unbearable sadness of their mother’s sudden death. Their father, a ‘scruffy romantic’, imagines a depressing future of well-meaning visitors and emptiness. In this moment of despair they are visited by Crow – antagonist, trickster, healer, babysitter (and a little more sinister than I remember from the book?). This bird is somehow drawn to the grieving family and threatens to stay until they no longer need him.
A man-like crow, voiced by David Thewlis, is seemingly brought to life from the father’s work as an illustrator and is about to become a very real part of all of their lives, ultimately guiding them towards the new shape their family must take. The book was part-poetry, part-drama and part-essay on grief and I think the film very successfully captured the same emotions and gut-wrenching challenges.
It's a tough watch at times, but hauntingly powerful and very beautiful too. Excellent. 
Note: Being a lover of Sandy Denny/Fairport Convention, the closing sequence of the father scattering his wife’s ashes on a lonely beach to the strains of ‘Who Knows Where the Times Goes?’ seemed poignantly appropriate: “Across the evening sky, all the birds are leaving. But how can they know, it's time for them to go? Before the winter fire, I will still be dreaming, I have no thought of time…” .

souleymane's story…

I went to the Watershed again yesterday… this time to see Boris Lojkine’s film “Souleymane’s Story” about an asylum-seeker in Paris.
Having fled Guinea, Souleymane (in the words of the Watershed’s blurb) “powers through the streets of after dark Paris as a delivery rider, sleeps in hostels and prepares for his make-or-break appointment which will determine his residence permit status”.
It’s a pressurised, sobering existence for people like Souleymane (played brilliantly by Abou Sangaré), clinging on at the margins of the French capital. He’s facing his impending asylum interview which will decide his immediate future.
Some years ago, I befriended an asylum-seeker in Bristol and know first-hand of the pressures and bureaucratic nightmares facing the likes of Souleymane.
I watched the film in the Watershed’s small Cinema 2 (which has an audience capacity of just over 40); it was a Monday afternoon-showing and, frankly, I anticipated that I might be one of half a dozen people in attendance… but I was entirely wrong. The cinema was full.
This portrait of a modern migrant propels one into the precarious world of an otherwise invisible man and it reflects the hectic daily pressures of survival in a deceitful and unfair world in something of a frenzied blur… BUT then the scene changes to his asylum interview and the stark, painful questioning process and his back-story… and Souleymane leaving the building, knowing that the powers-that-be would be emailing him 3 days’ time informing him of his fate.
The absolute silence in the cinema at the end (and the fact that no one moved from their seat for a prolonged time) said it all.
It’s a tense, achingly human, empathetic and hugely impressive film. 

steve...

I went along to the Watershed this afternoon to see Tim Mielants’s film ‘Steve’, starring the wonderful Cillian Murphy as the frazzled head of a reform school for delinquent, damaged teenage boys. The film, adapted by Max Porter from his 2023 novel ‘Shy’, is set over 24 hours at the school in the 1990s residential reform school.
It’s a devastating dual portrait of embattled headmaster Steve (Murphy) and troubled student Shy (brilliantly played by Jay Lycurgo); both are grappling with their own demons: for Steve, substance abuse and addiction; for vulnerable Shy, all-consuming depression (plus his mother and stepfather decide to cut all contact with him).
This particular day is even more complicated by the fact that there’s a film crew on site (shooting a ‘local interest segment’ for local evening news programme) and, if that wasn’t enough, the local, pompous Tory MP has decided to visit for a photo opportunity. As you might imagine, the behaviour in the classroom is even harder to contain than normal. Oh, and on top of that, Steve receives news that the Local Authority has sold the building for a housing development, so the school will have to close within a matter of a few months!
It’s a gripping, unsettling, shocking and exhausting film (Wendy Ide in ‘The Observer’ describes it as “a nerve-shredding portrait of troubled souls”).
Both the language and action is frequently violent and confrontational… and the acting is absolutely first-rate. In addition to Murphy (who is just brilliant) and Lycurgo, there are impressive performances by Tracey Ullman (deputy head), rapper Little Simz (teacher) and Emily Watson (school therapist)… plus all the boys.
I felt utterly drained by the end - lots of tough stuff, but also strangely and powerfully uplifting. A truly exceptional film.
Note: I’d previously read Porter’s book ‘Shy’ (which I regarded as “very special”)… and our Storysmith bookgroup were honoured by his presence at one of our sessions (I KNOW!)(he was very impressive and a very nice man) when we discussed his book ‘Lanny’. I chatted to him for a time and, instead of signing my copy of his book, he drew me an amazing image of a tree. A real collector’s piece!

handsworth songs…

I went along to the Watershed this afternoon to see ‘Handsworth Songs’ - part of their ‘Cinema Rediscovered’ series. Described, according to the Watershed’s blurb, as a “groundbreaking experimental film essay on race and disorder in Britain”, by John Akomfrah from the Black Audio Film Collective in Birmingham and London during the riots of 1985. I grew up in Handsworth and effectively left home when I started at Oxford School of Architecture in 1967… and so I didn’t experience the inner-city riots of 1985 (which included Handsworth) first hand, but I was certainly aware of the deep-rooted colour prejudice views that many long-standing residents (including many members of my own family) held. Such views appalled me then and still appal me today.
Today, I was part of quite a large, ‘learned’ audience (film students and academics?) at the Watershed and am pretty confident that I was the only person there who’d grown up in Handsworth(!). Needless to say, no one asked for my ‘take’ on the subject!
I don’t intend to provide any ground-breaking insight into the documentary(!), but it was fascinating to view the inner-city riots 40 years on from the event. The film is a rich and layered ‘essay’ which explores the complex factors of race, class and identity in the context of Britain’s colonial history, alongside media bias.
Among the things that particularly struck me were: a) the comments of one of the members of the Sikh community – who essentially said “don’t think that this is something that has just bubbled up recently (ie. 1985) – it’s been building over a number of years” (I would agree), and b) there was an overriding sense that the ‘heavy-handed’ policing played a huge part in what led to the riots (over several years and, in particular, following what was the recent appointment of a new Chief Constable of West Midlands Police). Thank goodness no one’s suggesting an Inquiry today(!)… there’s so much water under the bridge (unlike, the recently-announced Orgreave Inquiry after the events in 1984 - when 6000 police officers, confronted a protest of striking miners who had responded to a call by the NUM for a mass picket of the pit. Absolutely ridiculous in my view, given the time that has elapsed).
A fascinating, illuminating and somewhat depressing documentary – which only underlines how little has changed.
Note: just in case you were thinking that the woman in the photograph was holding a knife - no, she wasn’t – it’s a factory lever handle!

the ballad of wallis island…

I went along to the Watershed again yesterday afternoon (note: I’m now one of their ‘Club Shed’ members!) to see director James Griffiths’ ‘The Ballad of Wallis Island’… about a lottery-winning eccentric widower, Charles (Tim Key), living on the island off the coast of Wales (his wife Marie had died 5 years ago). He also happens to be a ‘superfan’ of a renown folk pairing McGwyer Mortimer (Herb and Nell - played by Tom Basden and Carey Mulligan) from around 2009 (they’d played Glastonbury; graced some NME covers etc)… and has all their records, memorabilia, scrapbooks etc.
Being a lottery-winner (twice, in fact), he invited them to play a gig on the island (for £500,000 fee, in cash, for each of them)… McGwyer and Mortimer had been lovers back in the day, but had broken up somewhat bitterly (as far as McGwyer was concerned). Herb had pursued a somewhat unsuccessful solo career (he had no idea that Nell had also been invited along) and Nell had married and was selling chutney for a living.
McGwyer was clearly under the impression that he was one of a group of musicians/bands playing at the gig… and was shocked to discover that a) there was no auditorium, just a beach, b) that Nell had also been invited along to perform and c) the only two scheduled performers were him and Nell.
The film is a romantically-tinged comedy of regrets, memories, music and beautiful scenery… it’s all rather silly, and yet, it’s all rather lovely too.
I think we’d all love to invite our favourite musician(s) to play a concert for us in a beautiful island location (provided that the sun shone etc!).
When there’s so much disaster and rubbish happening in the world, it was good to be conveyed to better place… of laughter, music, beauty and silliness.
I really enjoyed it.
PS: So who would you invite to your island gig? Joni Mitchell in her prime? Leonard Cohen? Nick Drake? Simon+Garfunkel? Perhaps, of current musicians (for me): Karine Polwart? Ricky Ross? Pete Judge?
PPS: In the film, there’s a sequence when Charles, Herb and Nell light lanterns and launch them from the beach into the evening sky… which reminded me of our own family version of this from 2009 in St Ives (although we now acknowledge the problems that they can injure or kill wildlife and livestock through ingestion or entanglement, cause fires, contribute to litter etc!!). It was a joint 60^th birthday celebration for Moira and me (I was already 60, she would be 60 in a few months’ time) and we were staying at the wonderful Upper Saltings on Porthmeor Beach. We’d had evening drinks on the beach (on a stunningly beautiful evening) and Ru, Hannah and Alice etc gave us two paper sky lanterns… which we ‘launched’ and watched as they slowly disappeared out to sea. Very special memories. 

the salt path...

Moira and I went along to the Watershed yesterday (for me, the third visit in 8 days!) to see Marianne Elliott’s film of Raynor Winn’s bestselling memoir ‘The Salt Path’. I’d read the book in 2019.
You’re probably already aware of the story… in 2013, in the space of a week, Raynor Winn (played by Gillian Anderson in the film) and her husband Moth (Jason Isaacs) - aged 50 and 53 respectively and married for 32 years - lost their farmhouse home and their livelihood… and Moth was diagnosed with a rare and incurable degenerative brain disease. They were utterly broke and broken… and homeless. As they hid under the stairs from bailiffs, Winn spotted an old book she’d read 30 years before, about a man who walked the South West Coastal Path with his dog… and, then and there, she resolved that THAT was what they were going to do! The resulting book is their story of their experiences of walking the 630 miles (which they split over two summers) from Minehead to Poole… the film covers perhaps just a quarter of the journey.
Before seeing the film, I had significant reservations about actors ‘playing the roles’ of the couple – which had been so effectively portrayed in the book. Anderson and Isaacs were actually very good, but I think my misgivings were generally justified. Inevitably, there were events missing from the film (and also some that I felt were overplayed) and I think the film also failed to underline that, despite the consultant’s recommendation for Moth to rest, the exercise/activity had a beneficial effect.
All that said, I did actually enjoy the film… it tells a truly inspirational, humbling story about a husband+wife’s determination to drag themselves from the depths of despair to live ‘wild and free’ on a pittance and, in doing so, came to discover a new liberating part of themselves… and, of course, the film was able to capitalise on something that the book couldn’t fully encompass – the beauty and character of the South West Coastal Path!

E.1027 – eileen gray and the house by the sea…

My second trip to the Watershed in successive days! This time to see Beatrice Minger+Christoph Schaub’s film ‘E.1027 – Eileen Gray and the House by the Sea’, with Natalie Radmall-Quirke playing Gray.
As a retired architect, I’m somewhat embarrassed to admit my lack of knowledge of much of Eileen Gray’s career. I had a very patchy awareness of her work and life… and a very vague recall of the link of E.1027 with Le Corbusier. Gray (1878-1976) was an Irish interior designer, furniture designer and (self-taught) architect who became a pioneer of the Modern Movement in architecture.
In the late 1920s, Gray designed and built a modernist villa on the Côte d’Azur for herself and her lover, the Romanian architectural journalist Jean Badovici: she called it E.1027 (a cryptic combination of her initials and those of Badovici)… “In the 1920s, men built the world to meet their own needs. I wanted to create a space for the woman… and then I could conceive of a different world”. But she and Badovici quarrelled and she impulsively moved out, leaving him in sole possession of the property – which he, subsequently, allowed the architectural world to assume it was his own work (in fact, he had very little to do with either the design or its construction). Badovici’s friend Le Corbusier, upon discovering it, was intrigued and obsessed by the house. He later covers its walls with murals (much to Gray’s fury when she discovered what he’d done – she’d always expressed a wish that it should be free of any decoration); Gray regarded this as an act of vandalism.
I went to see the film with fairly limited expectations… but I was completely wrong. I really enjoyed it.
It’s a very beautiful building (impressively renovated back to its original state – but the Le Corbusier frescoes are still there!) and I found myself captivated by the story. However, it also left me feeling frustrated by some aspects of it: it’s a drama-documentary that fails to include the emotion and creativity involved in producing a work of art… or, indeed, the work relating to the creation of such a building in such a remote location, over three years. Also lacking, in my view, was there a sufficient sense of betrayal (ie. a lack of recognition of the work of female designers and artists of that time)(of course, these frustrations still exist today!).
The film included clips of the house in an extremely poor state of repair (in the 1950s/60s?) – and effectively abandoned (it was occupied by squatters for a time) but, somewhat incredibly, the architectural press ‘rediscovered’ the building in 1968 and Gray’s name subsequently became recognised… and the house ultimately restored to its former glory (it’s now become a tourist attraction!). At the end of the film, there’s a poignant interview with Gray (in 1973, when she was in her late 90s) reflecting back on how the house came about.
All in all, a really lovely, informative and inspiring film. You’d enjoy it! 

the phoenician scheme…

Another trip to the Watershed today – this time to see Wes Anderson’s ‘The Phoenician Scheme’. I’m a great lover of Anderson films… I love the chorography (if that’s the right word?), symmetry, limited colour palettes, eccentricity, and the somewhat theatrical (and at times ridiculous) approach to storytelling.
In this film, wealthy businessman, Zsa-zsa Korda (played by Benicio del Toro) appoints his only daughter, a nun (Mia Threapleton), as sole heir to his estate. As Korda embarks on a new enterprise, they soon become the target of scheming tycoons, foreign terrorists, and determined assassins. As usual, the film features a host of ‘other stars’ in various cameo roles - including Tom Hanks, Willem Dafoe, Scarlett Johansson and Benedict Cumberbatch.
Yes, I’d be first to admit that Anderson’s films are (or have become) somewhat predictable in both their style and, to a certain extent, their type of storylines… there’s an element of him just repeating the same, old, successful formula. But, hey, I still found his sets and backdrops (and all the wonderful details) quite brilliant… and they make me feel very happy! So, in this depressing uncertain world, it’s good to find that some things still have the power to please!
It might not be the best Anderson film I’ve ever seen, but I really enjoyed it nevertheless.

ocean…

I went along to the Watershed tonight to see David Attenborough’s new film 'Ocean' (unsurprisingly, it’s about the oceans!) – released on this 99^th birthday and providing a backdrop to his remarkable career and to how much we’ve learnt during his long lifetime.
After watching so many of his nature programmes on the BBC, I somehow felt it was important for ME to see this film as my personal acknowledgement/appreciation of his lifetime’s work (yes, I know that sounds a bit pompous!)… and a recognition that he’s unlikely to be with us for very much longer.
The film didn’t disappoint.
As you might imagine, the film is an array of stunning cinematography but it’s much, much more than that. It’s a breathtaking journey showing that there is nowhere more vital for our survival than the ocean. The film bluntly exposes the harsh realities and challenges facing our oceans - from destructive fishing techniques to mass coral reef bleaching. The footage of large ‘fishing factory’ boats scraping huge areas of the ocean floor was truly sickening… and yet, these boats were fishing legally and, in many cases, with the full support of key nations. The percentage of oceans that have protection orders is currently absolutely tiny (something like 3%); apparently, there’s a resolution at the forthcoming UN World Oceans Day pressing for this cover to be increased to approximately 30%.
Despite the horrors, the film’s story is also one of optimism - with Attenborough pointing to inspirational stories from around the world, providing a lens of hope. It’s been shown that the ocean has the amazing ability to recover and indeed flourish.
Attenborough’s leadership in these matters has been (and remains) utterly inspirational. It would be a fitting legacy to know that we heeded his wise counsel before it’s too late.
A brilliant, depressing and yet encouraging film that governments across the world should be compelled to watch… and act on urgently. 
You need to see it too!
Note: UN’s World Oceans Day on 8 June.

the extraordinary miss flower…

I went along to the Watershed again this afternoon to see ‘The Extraordinary Miss Flower’ film from artists Iain Forsyth and Jane Pollard.
Geraldine Flower certainly wasn’t famous in her lifetime (she was born in Australia, worked for the Daily Telegraph in London for a time and travelled extensively) but, when she died in 2019 (aged 72), her daughter discovered a suitcase in her London flat packed with hundreds of love letters written to her by the adoring men in her life during the 1960s and 70s. She was apparently known for her independent spirit and adventurous lifestyle(!).
The letters inspired a 2024 album by Icelandic singer-songwriter Emilíana Torrini (a singer I first came across in 2008) and, in turn, resulted in this intriguing documentary film/studio performance. I found the whole project absolutely enthralling – reminders of a woman’s colourful life and complex relationships (viewed from her lovers’ perspectives!) dramatised in part through film (Caroline Catz features as Miss Flower… and with the likes of Nick Cave and Richard Ayoade reading out some of the letters) and live studio performances (including some dance) of Torrini’s songs. Inevitably, there will be some who would have liked there to have been more songs featured in the film and, perhaps more likely, some who were desperate to hear more extracts from the letters. In the event, I think they got the balance about right.
It’s an evocative exploration of Geraldine Flower’s life and I found it really rather lovely. I think she would have found her suitcase of letters spawning a film and an album of songs absolutely hilarious!

blue road…

Moira and I went to the Watershed again yesterday afternoon.
I LOVE Edna O’Brien (she died last July, aged 93) - I’ve read six of her books - and I absolutely LOVED this documentary film of her life by director Sinéad O’Shea.
Her real-life story is/was absolutely fascinating. As a young woman in rural Ireland, O’Brien ran away with writer Ernest Gébler and their unmarried relationship so outraged people that they fled to England (where they got married and had two children). O’Brien’s first novel, ‘The Country Girls’, was incredibly successful – although it infuriated Irish religious opinion. Gébler (who appears to have been something of a monster!) was massively envious (and abusive) and also made O’Brien sign over her royalty cheques to him (he allowed her small amounts of ‘housekeeping’ money)!! Finally, she refused, walked away and, ultimately, they divorced – with both children adamant that they wanted to live with Edna (resulting in Gébler targeting his sons!).
O’Brien’s successful writing continued (enabling her to buy a smart Chelsea townhouse) and, during the 1960s/70s, Edna had fashionable parties and various affairs with rich and famous men from the world of politics, the arts and entertainment.
The film includes readings from her diaries and insightful and touching interviews with her sons Carlo and Sasha Gébler. It also includes generous and good-humoured interviews with O’Brien over a number of years, but I particularly loved the extended interview with her just before her death in 2024.
It’s a thoroughly enjoyable, beautiful and engaging study.
I absolutely loved it.