vested interests…

Every now and then, I read about/listen to/watch articles/podcasts/documentaries that, on the face of it, seem to have only tenuous connections but which, coming across them within a few days of each other, resonate and leave me ‘pondering’.
Here are three recent examples:
UK GOVERNMENT:
The Tory government continues to depress me (understatement). Mr Johnson’s recent ‘resignation’ shenanigans (with ministers and MPs being offered various ‘incentives’ in order to back him) followed by the farce of the leadership ‘contest’ – with similar inducements and tax-cutting promises (when, of course, I would advocate higher taxes in order to properly fund the NHS, mental health, education, environmental measures etc) – while, at the same time noting such incidental matters as ‘the Tories can do whatever they want because they’ve got a huge majority’ (and a rubbish electoral system); an ineffective Opposition Party; and rumours that Mr Johnson will use his departure to announce the ‘elevation’ of several dozen Tory-backing individuals to the House of Lords (in many cases, rewards for being ‘generous donors’ to the Tory Party). I could write at length on this matter but, of course, my voice doesn’t count.
It’s all about vested interests, power politics, lobbying and greed.
BIG OIL v THE WORLD (Documentary, BBC iPlayer, 2022):
Arguably, this is the most important, depressing story of our time – about what the fossil fuel industry knew about climate change more than FOUR DECADES ago. Scientists who worked for the biggest oil company in the world, Exxon, revealing the warnings they sounded in the 1970s and early 1980s about how fossil fuels would cause climate change – with potentially catastrophic effects. Drawing on thousands of newly discovered documents, the film goes on to chart in revelatory and forensic detail how the oil industry went on to mount a campaign to sow doubt about the science of climate change, the consequences of which we are living through today. And then, how the 2010s became another lost decade in the fight against climate change – as the move to natural gas delayed a transition to more renewable sources of energy – with ‘fracking’ (technique for extracting gas and oil from shale rock) being promoted by powerful corporations as a cleaner energy source, but subsequently realising natural gas (releasing large quantities of methane into the atmosphere) could be even worse for climate change than coal and oil. Meanwhile, in the UK, last week’s newspapers reported that Shell and Centrica had posted profits totalling £11bn as households struggle with bills… and that British Gas had reinstated dividends for its shareholders after operating profits of £1.3bn; and that Shell had reported a £10bn profit between April and June; and that BP reported its biggest quarterly profit for 14 years.
It’s all about vested interests… power politics, lobbying and greed.
ISABELLA TREE’S BOOK WILDING:
The modern farmer was supposed to rationalise, intensify, diversify… get rid of small fields and hedgerows in the interests of getting the best use out of massive prairie-style machines and industrial farming techniques in order to maximise profits. Well, this inspiring book describes an attempt to renew the ecosystem, after decades of intensive agriculture of some 1,400 hectares owned by Tree’s husband Charlie Burrell at Knepp in West Sussex. The project, which began in 2001, is perhaps unique in England, and the results have been spectacular. In what has become a glorious ‘mess’, the animals live out in the open all year round and give birth unassisted by humans. Formerly common plants – but also rare ones – have returned in profusion, together with insects, bats and other organisms. Scrubland, wetland and other habitats are gradually rewiring themselves as herbicides and pesticides disappear. The increase in the variety and abundance of birds has been particularly astonishing. At a time when we’re ‘hammering the environment’, it’s a compelling and hugely encouraging, hopeful account about restoring what we have lost.
It DOESN’T all have to be about vested interests… power politics, lobbying and greed.
 
Somehow, we need to introduce an urgent sense of hope and fairness into the way we run this country. Sadly, at the present time, it seems all about self-interest, powerful corporations and banks, lobbyists… and a government on the side of the privileged and the well-off and where disrespectful/dishonest actions and attitudes go unpunished. Climate Change and Global Warming should be at the very HEART of our government’s agenda… but, at present, it pays only lip-service to an issue that threatens the very future of the planet.
Hamilton Nolan, writing in today’s ‘Guardian’, sums it up thus: “Capitalism is not designed to look several generations down the road. It is not designed to sacrifice for the greater good. It is designed to maximize profits. To pump every last barrel of oil on Earth, sell it, take the money and build a luxurious space ship to leave the planet that has been destroyed by burning all of that gas is a perfectly rational course of action according to the logic of capitalism. As long as there is a trillion dollars a year to be made, the fossil fuel industry will take the money. It is enough money to build a nice villa far, far away from the wars and droughts and floods and wildfires that fossil fuels are causing”. 

july 2022 books…

Tuck Everlasting (Natalie Babbit): This is our next Storysmith bookgroup book. We’ve come up with an occasional theme of 'my favourite book I don't mind others laying into' series… and this children’s book (first published in 1975) is the first selection. It reminded me of Max Porter’s wonderful book ‘Lanny’ and also ‘The Buried Giant’ (Kazuo Ishiguro). On the face of it, perhaps not an obvious bookgroup choice (especially for an old codger like me!)… The book starts in 1880. The Tuck family lives in the small rural town in New Hampshire. There is a spring there, with water that will give you immortality and you’ll never grow old. The Tuck family knows this because 80 years earlier they drank the water and haven't aged a day since. But then 10 year-old Winnie Foster stumbles on their secret and the Tucks take her home and explain why living forever at one age is less a blessing that it might seem. Complications arise when Winnie is followed by a stranger who wants to market the spring water for a fortune. *no spoilers*! A rather lovely story (sometimes perhaps a little haunting/frightening if you read it/were read it as a youngster?)… which made a welcome change to UK politics!
The Anonymous Venetian (Donna Leon): My third Commissario Brunetti Venice-based ‘mystery’. Instead of joining his family on a refreshing holiday in the mountains, Brunetti is forced to investigate a gruesome murder (“a body so badly the face is unrecognisable”) as Venice struggled against the full intensity of the summer sun (somewhat ironically, I read it on the day the UK recorded its highest ever temperature!). As ever with these books, it’s set against a background of power, politics, corruption and scandal in the dark Venetian underworld… and, in this case, transvestite prostitution. I love the Brunetti character (and his rather engaging family) and, of course, the fact that it’s set in Venice. Another clever plot and very enjoyable read. I thoroughly recommend the series.
Let Me Tell You What I Mean (Joan Didion): Didion is probably my favourite writer. I love the way she writes, the way she describes people and places… and the wide-ranging stuff she wrote about (she died last December, aged 87). This is a collection of a dozen wide-ranging essays from 1968-2000 (but mainly from the early part of her career), taking in such subjects/individuals as a Gamblers Anonymous meeting, a visit to William Randolph Hearst’s San Simeon castle, Nancy Regan, Robert Mapplethorpe, Martha Stewart and Ernest Hemingway (I particularly enjoyed the Hemingway piece). As always: astute, illuminating and penetrating prose.
The Pursuit Of Love (Nancy Mitford): Apparently, this book (first published in 1945) is one of Alan Bennett’s favourite novels… so, if it’s good enough for him. It’s a novel about an upper-class English family in the interwar period focusing on the romantic life of Linda Radlett, as narrated by her cousin, Fanny Logan (but, bizarrely, in my head I gave the narrator the voice of Alan Bennett – which, for me, actually worked perfectly!!). It’s a book about the tedium of growing up… “longing for love, obsessed with weddings and sex” (as the book’s cover explains). Apparently, Mitford always claimed that the early chapters were largely autobiographical. It’s all very complicated (there were times I felt I needed a sketch of the family tree as a reminder of who was who) – with engagements and marriages that go wrong; wealth (and the lack of it); war and babies. Beautifully written (I’m glad not to have seen any of the televised versions of the book). Very amusing and sometimes quite tragic. Perhaps surprisingly, I rather enjoyed it.
A Venetian Reckoning (Donna Leon): My fourth Commissario Brunetti Venice-based ‘mystery’ (I know!). Another excellent novel (published in 1995) – well-written and cleverly conceived – albeit that the subject (involving the horrors of human trafficking, prostitution and worse) makes for difficult reading at times. Although fiction, it clearly reflects yet another appalling, depressing aspect of our world (as if one needs any reminders… with all our narcissistic, powerful, greedy, lying politicians and corporations!). Nevertheless, the combination of murder mysteries, descriptions of Venice and Brunetti’s rather lovely family provide some sort of justified compensation. The books give a whole new meaning to ‘Death in Venice’ and I’ve consumed each of them in a couple of days.   

eric ravilious: drawn to war…

Moira and I went along to the Watershed this afternoon to see Margy Kinmonth’s excellent documentary film on landscape artist Eric Ravilious (who died in a plane crash in 1942, aged 39, during his time working as a war artist for the MOD).
Although I’ve been aware of Ravilious’s work for a number of years, it’s only really in the past 6-7 years (largely thanks to the enthusiasm for his work by my great friend David McLaughlin) – during which time I’ve accumulated a number of books relating to his life and his art.
As the film emphasises, Ravilious is a grossly undervalued artist (literally – during his time working for the MOD in WW2, they were keen to buy ten of his original submarine pieces for £2 10s each… that’s £25 for all TEN!!)(I wonder what they’d be worth today?). But, as well as being undervalued, he’s also been largely forgotten - indeed, a trove of Ravilious’s work was discovered hidden under a bed for 40 years (the bed was that of graphic artist Edward Bawden, who was best man at Ravilious’s wedding)!
Working in watercolour, pen and ink and woodcut engraving, Eric Ravilious’s work combined rolling English landscapes (particularly the South Downs) with a “sensibility that was bold in its modernity and economy” (Wendy Ide, The Guardian, 3 July 2022). He engraved more than 400 illustrations and drew over 40 lithographic designs for books and publications during his lifetime.
I thought it was a very beautiful, poignant documentary and it’s made me want to read more about his work (and see more of it too).
PS: After 2 years of trying, in 2019 I eventually managed to persuade Bristol Museum and Art Gallery to let me see Ravilious’s “Tennis Triptych” (1930) – which the gallery keeps shut away in its extensive archives. I think it’s time they put it on permanent exhibition. 

june-july 2022 books…

Right Ho, Jeeves (PG Wodehouse): In yet another effort to avoid all the horrible stuff going in the world, I’m afraid I reverted to the ‘tried-and-tested’ Wodehouse to brighten things a little. This book (first published in 1934) is yet another of his somewhat predictable upper-class sagas about country houses, expensive living and not-so-bright-young-things featuring Jeeves and his trusty butler Wooster. The story is rather like many of Wodehouse’s other Jeeves’ books, but I enjoy his writing style (obviously now very dated) and clipped remarks… and, of course, the ridiculous character names (Gussie Fink-Nottle, Tuppy Glossop, Pongo Twistleton and the like). Easy reading.
Encounters With Peggy Guggenheim (Stefan Moses): I bought this book (published 2018 and still available at Waterstones for a mere £22.50!) at the £3 Bookshop. Renowned photographer Stefan Moses (who was also given access to her private family album) reveals his collection of behind-the-scenes photographs of the eccentric, wealthy, art collecting PeggyG, taken between 1969 and 1974, in her favourite places around Venice, surrounded by her Lhasa Apso dogs and wearing her iconic butterfly glasses. The quality of the photographs (to my amateur eye) varies enormously… perhaps best described as “candid snaps” of a somewhat fearless woman, her Venetian surroundings, her art and those she entertained.
The Code Of The Woosters (PG Wodehouse): Virtually a continuation of the issues raised in ‘Right Ho, Jeeves’ (see above!) which, perhaps strangely, I found far more enjoyable (I love the way in which Wooster attempts to justify his actions in hindsight and to recall various outrageous adventures from his school/university days. Ridiculous character names continued to amuse: Bingo Little, Catsmeat Potter-Pirbright, Barmy Fotheringay-Phipps, Sinker Pinker and the like. Kept me entertained and smiling!
Elisabeth’s Lists (Lulah Ellender): This book was a random purchase from the £3 Bookshop and, as a self-confessed list-maker, I felt I needed to read it! The Elisabeth in question is the author’s grandmother (who died well before the author was born) – who lived a rather glamorous life as an ambassador’s daughter in 1930s China and subsequently as the wife of a British diplomat (with postings to Madrid under Franco’s regime, post-war Beirut, Rio de Janeiro and Paris). The author inherited her grandmother’s rather battered book of handwritten lists (something of a coping mechanism and a “source of structure and comfort” throughout her brief life – she died aged 42) which triggered a desire to learn more (through her diaries and letters). Something of a family memoir – albeit of a rather privileged, upper/middle-class existence. Interesting nevertheless.
House Arrest (Alan Bennett): This is a short book of extracts from Bennett’s diary compiled between February 2020 and March 2022 – “a year in and out of lockdown”. It’s a rather lovely, typical collection of amusing observations and reminiscences from Bennett during a time that had such a profound effect of everyone’s lives. He seemed to cope quite well – his partner working from home meant he received regular cups of tea and a hot lunch! I particular enjoyed his description of one of their regular 3-minute evening walks round the block – which on one occasion coincided with the “fusillade of clapping and pan-banging from neighbours out on their balconies in celebration of the NHS”… “Rupert can clap, but I can’t as I need to hold on to my walking stick. It also appears that, with me walking in the road, I am acknowledging the applause and even generating it. I try to disavow this by feebly smiling and shaking my head, but this just looks like modesty”!   

brian+charles…

Yesterday, while everyone else bathed in the sunshine, I went along to the Watershed to see Jim Archer’s film “Brian and Charles” – about an eccentric inventor, Brian, and his home-made, ramshackle robot, Charles. Actors and co-writers David Earl (Brian) and Chris Hayward (Charles) originally came up with the idea via an internet radio show and a live standup act that apparently spawned “an eye-catching short film” in 2017.

Brian lives alone in a remote cottage in the valleys of north Wales, where he spends his time in his ‘infamous inventions pantry’ (ie. his cowshed). Here, he knocks together outlandishly madcap creations such as the pinecone bag, the flying cuckoo clock, the egg belt and trawler nets for shoes – until one day the discovery of a fly-tipped mannequin head gives him bigger ideas. Having built his robot, Brian thinks it’s best to keep Charles a secret from the locals, and so they spend their days playing darts, cooking cabbages, riding bikes, having pillow fights and watching TV travel shows (as you do!). Hazel (played by Louise Brealey), a kindred spirit, lives in the village with her domineering mother and a talkative parrot… and Charles duly encourages Brian to ‘court her’… *no spoilers*!The film’s director reckons it’s “primarily about loneliness and the power of friendship and companionship”… and it’s certainly that.

It’s ridiculous, but absolutely charming… and even joyful.
Barmy, but beautiful.
You need to see it.
PS: Somewhat bizarrely, in contrast… in the evening, I sat down with Moira and watched ‘Thelma and Louise’ on iPlayer!!

june 2022 books…

Death In A Strange Country (Donna Leon): My second Commissario Guido Brunetti Venice-based crime book (first published in 1993)… which I read in less than 3 days. I like the Brunetti character (and his family) and the Venetian setting (essentially because I adore Venice). An intriguing plot, starting with the body of an American man being fished out of a canal. It seems to have been a violent mugging… a young Venetian (a regular offender, just out prison) is duly accused. The dead man turns out to have been a sergeant from an American military base in nearby Vicenza… but then his doctor/captain lover mysteriously dies of an ‘overdose’… then the young Venetian dies in a ‘fall’. It’s a story of power, lies, influence, wealth, corruption and politics (of course!) and I thoroughly enjoyed it.   
Back In The Day (Melvyn Bragg): I absolutely loved this book! I’m a big fan of Bragg (I’ve read several of his books and have also regularly tuned in to his ‘In Our Time’ programme on the radio) – he would definitely be in my “World XI”! In the memoir, Bragg revisits his youth in the Cumbrian town of Wigton (from his early years during the war – he was born in 1939 - to the time he left his hometown behind). He had a working-class background (his parents ran a pub) and was, like all his friends, expected to leave school at 15. Somewhat remarkably (and despite a breakdown, but with the encouragement of two of his teachers), he developed a passion for books and learning (he talks of setting up 42 hours of homework for himself each week!) and ended up gaining a scholarship to Oxford. The book represents a poignant story of a vanished era – about a community-spirited northern town still steeped in ‘old ways’. He ‘walks’ through its streets and recalls the names and trades of all the shopkeepers; he describes the alcohol-free(!) local dances (he and his friends travelling to them in nearby villages on their bikes); the glorious landscapes of the Lake District; his friends; and the first proper love of his life. Quite enchanting.
The Nine Tailors (Dorothy L Sayers): I haven’t read many of Sayers’ Lord Peter Wimsey mysteries – to be honest, his character has never really appealed to me. This novel (first published in 1934 and set in the remote fens of east Anglia) (‘Nine Tailors' from the title relates to the nine bell strokes at the beginning of the toll announcing to villagers that a man is dead) is apparently meant to be one of her best. For me, although the plot was incredibly clever, I thought it was far TOO clever – too complicated and intricate (and I was bored by the first 50 pages of endless bell-ringing technical and church architecture details) - indeed, I was left with the distinct feeling that Sayers was desperately ‘showing off’ her wealth of knowledge (especially of bell-ringing changes!) and her intellect. As one might also imagine, the dialogue is extremely dated and rather pompous – very class orientated and very disparaging of the working-class locals (and the French!). I’m afraid it wasn’t a book I particularly enjoyed. I might be in a minority, but I’m not her greatest fan! 
Lolly Willowes (Sylvia Townsend Warner): This is our next Storysmith bookgroup book (based on an ‘uplifting’ theme). First published in 1926, Lolly Willowes is a dreamy young woman with no interest in marriage. On the death of her father, she becomes absorbed into the household of the somewhat stuffy, self-satisfied family of her brother Henry and his wife - becoming indispensable “Aunt Lolly”, forever obliged and obliging to others. In due course, out of the blue, she suddenly announces that she is leaving London and moving, alone, to the depths of the Chilterns countryside (to a place called Great Mop, which she has never visited). Her overbearing relatives are horrified. It turns out that she has a greater, far darker calling than family: witchcraft. It’s an act of defiance – away from perceived gender roles, family love, social convention, religious propriety and the like. I have to admit that I struggled a little with Lolly’s encounters with the devil (perhaps my intellect wasn’t up to it?)(came to the conclusion that her witchcraft allegorical… giving herself over to the spirit of adventure?), but I did enjoy the delicacy and humour of the book’s prose and its encouragement to be prepared to fight expectations and to pursue dreams and possibilities.
Shuggie Bain (Douglas Stuart): This is our next BB’s bookgroup book (I first read it in January last year and so won’t repeat what I’ve previously blog posted). It’s a heartbreaking novel of lost, chaotic childhoods of poverty and addiction. Shuggie Bain is the youngest of three children growing up in the Glasgow of the early 1980s, trapped in mining town decimated by Thatcherism (the story spans the period 1981-92; Shuggie is just five at the start of the story). Their philandering father has upped and left and their mother increasingly turns to alcohol for comfort. The children try their best to save her but, gradually, one by one they abandon her to save themselves. It’s a world for which ‘sexual consent’ has no meaning. It’s shockingly brutal and stark… it makes for a difficult read (even on re-reading) and yet it’s utterly compelling. Moving, funny, tender and incredibly real. 

may 2022 books…

Deep Waters (ed. Martin Edwards): I bought three books from the ‘The Three Pound Bookshop’ to help Moira struggle through her Covid; this was of them. A series of short stories involving murder and crime at sea, written in the first half of the 20^th century. Unremarkable, but readily-readable.
Resorting To Murder (ed. Martin Edwards): Another of the books I bought for Moira from ‘The Three Pound Bookshop’. Another book of short stories involving murder and crime under the sub-heading of ‘Holiday Mysteries’. Again, unremarkable, convoluted and ‘of their time’ (1910-1950s)… with a just a few entertaining exceptions.
Agent Running In The Field (John Le Carré): Le Carré was such a brilliant writer. His style seems effortless and yet he was able to convey quite complex spy stories with masterful ease. This one (published in 2019) manages to include his contempt at the “senseless vandalism of Brexit and Trump” (according to one reviewer)(my thoughts exactly!). I haven’t read many Le Carré books (this might have been my fourth?), but they’re quite brilliant in their way of describing the shadowy world of espionage – in which every word spoken or written is being ‘listened to’ by someone. A very satisfying, clever book.
Slaughterhouse Five (Kurt Vonnegut): The novel (first published in 1969) is widely regarded as a classic anti-war novel; it centres on Billy Pilgrim’s capture by the German Army in World War II and his survival of the 1945 Allied firebombing of Dresden as a prisoner of war, an experience which Vonnegut himself lived through as an American serviceman. It’s a semi-autobiographic science fiction-infused anti-war novel and follows the life and experiences of Pilgrim, from his early years, to his time as an American soldier and chaplain's assistant during World War II, to the post-war years, with him occasionally travelling through time(!).
I found it difficult to come to terms with the book’s bizarre and chaotic nature – much of the text felt like a stream of conscience thoughts written while consuming alcohol or taking drugs… anything goes. There’s part of me that thinks this approach is absolutely appropriate, given that Pilgrim (like the author) has just witnessed the horrendous fire-bombing of Dresden (“the greatest massacre in European history”)… and perhaps also suffering from some kind of delayed post-traumatic stress disorder? I had very high hopes of this novel and, although I found it both entertaining and extraordinary (albeit confusing at times), ultimately, I thought it was disappointing. 
Death At La Fenice (Donna Leon): My good friend Ian lent me this book (first published in 1992). It’s the first in the Commissario Brunetti series of crime stories set in Venice. I seem to have been focussed on crime stories recently as some sort of escape from all the UK’s and the world’s troubles – this might not actually be ‘working’ very convincingly, but discovering Leon’s Venetian books has been a definite positive (and there are LOTS of them in the series!). Venice is one of my favourite cities in the world and so I found it easy to get sucked into the descriptions of its twisted maze of canals and winding walkways. I liked the Brunetti character (which helps) and, in this novel, he investigates the death (by poisoning) of a world-famous conductor during a performance of La Traviata at the celebrated opera house, La Fenice. I very much enjoyed it – bring on book 2! *no spoilers*. 

chineka! with evelyn glennie…

For the second time this week, I attended a concert at St George’s (I know!).
Last night’s concert featured the Chineke! Orchestra alongside (for the first work in the programme) the amazing percussionist Evelyn Glennie… and was also attended by lovely friends Linda, Ian, Sarah, Dave, Mary and Tom (among others!).
The Chineka! Foundation is a pretty remarkable organisation that was created in 2015 by double-bass player Chi-chi Nwanoka (who also featured in last night’s concert) to provide outstanding career opportunities to established and up-and-coming Black and ethnically diverse classical musicians in the UK and Europe. The Chineke! Orchestra is its ‘flagship ensemble’… and the musicians are hugely talented (and young!)… and very impressive.The evening featured four pieces of work from composers Jill Jarman (“Across the Divide” – concerto for double bass and percussion), Dvořák (“Serenade for Strings”), James B Wilson (“Free-man”) and Fela Sowande (“African Suite”).

Although I’ve always felt a little uneasy by Glennie’s somewhat over-dramatic style of performance (just my personal view, obviously), she’s undoubtedly an amazing, mesmerising musician. She featured in just the Jill Jarman piece at the beginning of the programme last night – in which she played SIX instruments!
For me, the highlight of the evening was Sowande’s “African Suite”, written in 1955. Joyful and uplifting.
There’s something about listening to an orchestra in ‘full voice’ (some 30 hugely-gifted musicians). I loved the orchestra’s energy and enthusiasm (and youthfulness!).
A brilliant evening.
Photo: Chineke! Orchestra with Evelyn Glennie, from last night’s performance. 

steeleye span…

I went along to St George’s last night to see the Folk Revival band Steeleye Span. They were established in late 1969, when London-born bass player Ashley Hutchings departed Fairport Convention (another of my favourites) - the band he had co-founded in 1967. The marvellous Maddy Prior is the only surviving member of the original band.
They’re currently on their 50^th Anniversary Tour (somewhat disrupted/delayed by Covid – some people had bought tickets for this concert 3 years ago!) so, as you might imagine, the vast majority of the enthusiastic audience were ‘seniors’ like me (understatement)! The band still makes a great sound.
Maddy Prior can STILL sing wonderfully well (albeit her voice is somewhat deeper these days) and the very impressive singer/violinist, Jessie May Smart, was able to fill in on those old high notes (eg ‘Gaudette’)!
It proved to be a brilliant evening – hugely enjoyable.
Photo: on stage at St George’s last night. 

vortex…

I went along to the Watershed yesterday afternoon to see Gaspar Noé’s film “Vortex” about the struggles of an elderly couple (born in 1940 and 1944 respectively) in declining health.
Given that Moira and I are ourselves in the ‘elderly couple’ category and facing the uncertainties of old age, I thought long and hard before deciding to book my ticket – but I’m so pleased that I did.
The film's old couple are former intellectuals: he’s an author/film-maker and she's a retired psychiatrist. They live a somewhat bohemian, chaotic life in their small Parisian house crammed full of books and clutter. He is lucid but restricted by a heart condition (he’d had a stroke) and spends a lot of time coughing in the film(!); she also had a stroke some years ago and is now suffering from rapidly worsening dementia. They attempt to deal with matters, alongside their adult son, who is himself is dealing with significant personal problems. The entire film is shot in split-screen – which seems to emphasise their dual stories. The actors (Dario Argento and Françoise Lebrun) are stunningly good – it feels as if you’re watching a documentary in real time.
It makes for tough viewing…
It’s a reminder of how easy it is to retreat into our own individual worlds and to put off painful, necessary decisions… of the importance of acknowledging the ageing process and the changes it makes to even the best relationships… of the realisation that even basic day-to-day tasks can become difficult or even forgotten (medication, turning off the hob/oven/shower, dressing/undressing)… of how vulnerable people become (being no longer able to shop for themselves or even able to leave a partner alone at home)…
It’s a film about the chaotic life and all the messy disarray that old age can become for so many of us… things being left undone, decisions being put off.
It’s an incredibly powerful film – stark, but with moments of tenderness.
Before you know it, it’ll happen to you…
At the start of the film, the couple enjoy a modest meal on their rickety terrace – a simple, happy moment which turns out to be one of her last moments of lucidity.
Towards the end of the film, there’s a slideshow of photographs from the wife’s life – her childhood, her beauty as she becomes a woman, her love of life, her love of her husband and son – reminders of a life lived to the full and celebrated. I found it a very telling and poignant reflection (which made me smile).
And at the very end of the film, there’s a slideshow of photographs showing the couple’s house being cleared – emptied of books and clutter – and finally left bare. A stark, poignant and fitting end.
I think I watched the film with perhaps eight other people. I was, by far, the oldest in the audience – the rest were either twenty-somethings or maybe forty-somethings. For me, it was the reality of my old age but, for them, it was about the old age of their grandparents or parents.
A truly brilliant film.
Footnote: Throughout the film, there’s an element of denial and I suspect that’s the case for many of us approaching (or, like us, in!) old age. The couple in the film vowed that they never wanted to leave their home (largely thanks to Moira, we downsized some nine months ago – and, in retrospect, what a brilliant decision that was!)(and our three daughters wholeheartedly agree!). For couples fortunate enough to survive into old age together, there are the inevitable questions of: Who will die first? Who will take on the burden of care? But also, I suspect, there’s a need to re-assess things on a very regular basis and to make the necessary adjustments accordingly (some easier than others). Patience, sense of humour and love seem to be the key. x 

royal west of england academy (RWA)…

The Grade II* Listed RWA building has opened its doors again after a £4.1 million extensive repair and refurbishment project – thanks to funding from the National Lottery Heritage Fund.
Since we first moved to Bristol in 2003, we’ve regularly visited the art gallery and, as you might imagine (with it being only a 15-minute walk up Park Street from our ‘new’ abode), it’s been somewhat frustrating that its temporary closure more or less coincided with our move from Southville.
The art gallery re-opened at the weekend and I dropped in yesterday to take in its first main exhibition (“Me, Myself, I: Artists’ Self-Portraits” - an exploration of self-portraiture over the last three hundred years), featuring such artists as Antony Gormley, Gillian Wearing, Grayson Perry, Tracey Emin, Joshua Reynolds, Stanley Spencer, Lucian Freud, Patrick Heron, Dod Procter, John Minton, Roger Fry and many more.
I very much enjoyed it and, thanks to my RWA Art Pass (purchased for an annual fee of £15 – brilliant value), I can visit as many times as I like for ‘free’.
Photo: Just a few of the images that caught my eye (clockwise, starting top left: John Minton; Antony Gormley, Stanley Spencer, Michael Craig-Martin, Dod Procter, Roger Fry, Arthur Hayward and Jacqueline Donachie.
PS: Work on the café isn’t quite yet completed, but the very good news is that it’ll be run by Bristol’s excellent “Spicer+Cole” (probably the best coffee in Bristol, in my view).

cricket, lovely cricket…

I went to watch a day’s cricket in Bristol yesterday (Gloucestershire v league-leaders Surrey). It was the first county championship game I’d seen for two-and-a-half years (since September 2019, at Taunton) and I’ve really missed it. It’s a great shame, in my view, that season tickets aren’t available for people like me who enjoy watching just the county games (although the Twenty-20 and one-day games provide entertainment, I’m one of those old fogies who don’t think it’s ‘proper cricket’!).
Ridiculously, not bothering to purchase an online ticket in advance, I arrived 45 minutes before the start of play, proffered my bank card at the ‘gate’ for ‘swiping’, only to have to watch the attendant type lots of stuff into his laptop – including typing out my bank card details – before providing me with my ticket! He was very cheery about it all, but the whole process took some 3-4 minutes and so it was just as well there were only two people behind me!
As it happened, it was a somewhat bizarre day of few-and-far-between rewards for bowlers (just 6 wickets all day) and batsmen reaping the benefits of a good batting wicket (a double centurion, a centurion and a double-century stand). Surrey ended 603 all out and Gloucestershire 86-0*.
I love the rather pedestrian routine of cricket-watching… the almost exclusively ‘aged’ spectators – many no doubt sitting in the seat they always sit in and many of them apparently far more interested in reading their newspapers than watching the cricket! A couple of old blokes in front of me (the very talkative one announcing to all those within earshot that he was 76 years old and the other one occasionally correcting his friend’s memory!)(I changed position three times during the course of the day!) seemed to spend most of the time trying to recall various somewhat obscure sporting facts – mainly to do with football(!), such as: “Did you know that Spurs last got relegated to the second division in 1977?” or “What was the name of that Italian geezer who played for Middlesbrough in the mid-1990s?” (Ravanelli)… “and did you know he scored a hat-trick against Liverpool on his debut?”.
Oh what fun!
After lunch, one of the elderly committee members (I presumed he was ‘on the committee’ from his loud remarks about him having to “go to Lord’s next week for an important meeting”!) came to chat to a couple of nearby spectator friends of his. He was a very posh, know-it-all ‘gentleman’ who seemed to spend most of his time preparing agendas for various club-related matters (“never enough hours in the day” etc). During the course of their conversation, he described his experiences of undertaking zoom interviews with some prospective committee members (or whatever the vacancies were for): “A couple of the chaps we interviewed (note: they were ALL chaps!) were appropriately dressed in jackets and ties – they’d made an effort – but this other chap was there in his T-shirt for goodness sake!”.
How DARE he!
Obviously, I was concentrating on the cricket ALL the time.
Despite the occasional sunny intervals, it was pretty cold. I wore a thermal vest, shirt, jumper and a fleece – by mid-afternoon, a bloke sitting in the same row of seats wrapped himself in a blanket to keep warm. Hot toddies should probably have been the order of the day. In the morning, I scribbled a quick sketch of a group of nearby spectators – each of them wearing woolly hats and thick jackets… it definitely didn’t feel like cricket weather. There seems to be a huge irony for those of us who love watching county championship games that the powers-that-be have effectively relegated these fixtures to the coldest times of the season (ie. April+May and late August+September).
Who said cricket was “a summer game”!?  
PS: *I’m writing this post on the day following my cricket ‘trip’ and it seems that the bowlers continue to struggle for wickets… at lunch, Gloucestershire were 215-0!

march-april 2022 books…

The Village Of Eight Graves (Seishi Yokomizo): This was my third Yokomizo murder mystery (first published in 1971)… and probably my favourite of the three. As always, the plot is quite complicated (but clever and intriguing) – with more murders than ‘Midsomer Murders’ – and involves a young man arriving in hamlet nestling in the mountains of Japan (named ‘Eight Graves’ after a centuries-old massacre) to claim a mysterious inheritance. There are a series of gruesome poisonings but, with the help of the famous Kosuke Kindaichi (the book’s equivalent of Christie’s Poirot), the mystery is eventually solved (despite all the various red herrings and dubious alibis. It’s typical, classic, crime fiction with all the dots duly joined up by way of explanation at the end of the book.
Clothes, Clothes, Clothes… (Viv Albertine): This was Albertine’s first book (published in 2014). I’d previously read her follow-up ‘To Throw Away Unopened’ (published in 2018) and had been vaguely familiar with the punk band “The Slits” and, by association, knew that Viv Albertine had been a guitarist in the band. She’s a really excellent writer (and I heard her at a book launch 3 years ago and was very impressed). As the title suggests, this memoir is about her ‘obsession’ (my description) about clothes, music and boys. From a poor, working-class background and largely brought up by her mother, the book is a breathtakingly honest, often quite shocking story about her life in the band, her subsequent health and family struggles and her re-connection with music in her mid-fifties. She describes herself as being somewhat shy (I’m not sure I’d agree – ‘bossy and selfish’ might be closer to the mark?). She’s certainly a determined, rebellious, uncompromising woman (we wouldn’t have ‘got on’!). Nevertheless, the book is incredibly readable and entertaining (400+ pages which I read in 3 days).
A Black Boy At Eton (Dillibe Onyeama): The book was first published in 1972 and re-published, fifty years later, after being selected by Bernardine Evaristo as one of a series of ‘rediscovered’ books about Black Britain. Nigerian Onyeama (son of a Supreme Court Judge) is a couple of years younger than me, but interesting nevertheless to compare our respective school experiences – not that Handsworth Grammar quite compares with Eton!). In 1969, he became the first black person to finish their studies at Eton College. He wrote the book about his experiences of racism at Eton, “Nigger at Eton” (but subsequently re-titled). It’s a shocking story of the cruel racial prejudice and racism he endured during his time at the school. It’s a very frank book - frequently exposing his own inappropriate behaviour on occasions – written, in my view, in a style of awkward formality (and reflecting a somewhat naïve attitude to life and, in Evaristo’s words, “still maturing into adulthood”). By his own admission, he wasn’t a particularly impressive pupil (arrogant and a self-confessed snob)(probably a common Etonian trait!); he was unpopular with many of his fellow students and taunted/verbally abused by many of them; he comes across as someone who was self-centred, insensitive and unaware of how his own actions and comments might be interpreted; he was also not averse to using violence against his aggressors. Despite its occasional humour, it’s a dehumanising and shameful book - reflecting much of the sickening colour prejudice of the time in society (much of which sadly continues today).
Being Mortal (Atul Gawande): This is a book about what it’s like to get old and die and how we manage our mortality… and I thought it was rather wonderful. It might seem a little morbid reading about such a subject, but this eloquent, moving book is something of a manifesto that could radically improve the lives of the aged and the terminally ill. Gawande is a surgeon and a professor at Harvard Medical School and the book includes accounts of a number of people’s ‘last days’. It opens a door to discussions with close relatives about how people wish to spend their final days – not necessarily about extending life, but more about living with dignity and joy until the end of it (ie. not so much a medical problem but a human one). It’s beautifully and engagingly written and I highly recommend it.
Grey Bees (Andrey Kurkov): This is our Storysmith bookgroup’s next book and to say that it’s pertinent to what’s going in Ukraine at the present time would be something of an understatement! First published in 2018, the book relates to “Putin’s failed attempt to tear Ukraine away from Europe” (Kurkov describes in the book’s Foreword) in 2013 – although Russia did manage to capture the Ukrainian peninsula of Crimea in 2014 and also sent officers and activists to the south and east Ukraine. The strip of land between the resulting front line between Ukrainian troops and pro-Russian separatists is referred to as the “grey zone”. Most of the inhabitants have left this zone but, here and there, some stubborn residents refused to budge. This novel is the story of the only two villagers who remain: a 49 year-old, retired safety inspector turned beekeeper and an old ‘enemy’ from his schooldays. As spring approaches, under the ever-present threat of bombardment the beekeeper knows he needs to take his bees far from the Grey Zone so they can collect their pollen in peace. This ‘simple mission’ on their behalf introduces him to combatants and civilians on both sides of the battle lines - uncooperative border guards and officialdom, generous and/or suspicious civilians. The sense of war’s futility is one of the novel’s constant themes. He is brought into contact with two families, who represent other lives and other cultures, but whose kindness and consideration are touching. Despite the ever-present threat of bombardment, there’s a gentle, almost childlike simplicity to the book and to its main character that makes it an endearing read. 

response to partygate excuses…

Keir Starmer is not my idea of a hugely effective Leader of the Opposition…
However, I think his response to Mr Johnson’s ‘apology’ this afternoon is probably his most powerful speech in the Commons to date. 

This is what he said: 
“What a joke. Even now as the latest mealy-mouthed apology stumbles out of one side of his mouth, a new set of deflections and distortions pour from the other.
But the damage is already done.
The public have made up their mind.
They don’t believe a word the Prime Minister says.
They know what he is.
As ever with this Prime Minister those close to him find themselves ruined and the institutions he vows to protect damaged.
Good ministers forced to walk away from public service.
The Chancellor’s career up in flames.
And the Leader of the Scottish Conservatives rendered pathetic.
For all those unfamiliar with this Prime Minister’s career.
This isn’t some fixable glitch in the system.
It’s the whole point.
It’s what he does.
It’s who he is.
He knows he’s dishonest and incapable of changing.
So he drags everybody else down with him.
The more people debase themselves, parroting his absurd defences, the more the public will believe all politicians are the same.
All as bad as each other.
And that suits this Prime Minister just fine.
Some members opposite seem oblivious to the Prime Minister’s game.
Some know what he’s up to but are too weak to act.
But others are gleefully playing the part the Prime Minister cast for them.
A minister on the radio this morning saying it’s the same as a speeding ticket.
No it’s not.
No one has ever broken down in tears because they couldn’t drive faster than 20mph outside a school.
Don’t insult the public with this nonsense.
But Mr Speaker, as it happens the last Minister who got a speeding ticket and then lied about it ended up in prison and I know because I prosecuted him.
And last week we were treated to a grotesque spectacle.
One of the Prime Minister’s loyal supporters accusing teachers and nurses of drinking in the staff room through lockdown.
Members opposite can associate themselves with that if they want.
But those of us who take pride in our NHS workers, our teachers and every other key worker who got us through those dark days will never forget their contempt.
Plenty didn’t agree with every rule the Prime Minister wrote.
But they followed them nonetheless because in this country we respect others, we put the greater good above narrow self-interest and we understand that the rules apply to all of us.
This morning, I spoke to John Robinson, a constituent for the Member for Lichfield, I want to tell his story.
When his wife died of Covid, John and his family obeyed the Prime Minister’s rules.
He didn’t see her in hospital, he didn’t hold her hand as she died.
Their daughters and grandchildren drove 100 miles up the motorway, clutching a letter from the funeral director in case they were questioned by the police.
They didn’t have a service in the church, John’s son-in-law stayed away because he would have been the forbidden seventh mourner.
Doesn’t the Prime Minister realise that John would have given the world to hold his dying wife’s hand, even if it was just for nine minutes?
But he didn’t.
Because he followed the Prime Minister’s rules.
Rules that we now know the Prime Minister blithely, repeatedly and deliberately ignored.
After months of insulting excuses, today’s half-hearted apology will never be enough for John Robinson.
If the Prime Minister had any respect for John and the millions like him who sacrificed everything to follow the rules he’d resign.
But he won’t.
Because he doesn’t respect John.
He doesn’t respect the sacrifice of the British public.
He is a man without shame.
Looking past the Member for Lichfield and the nodding dogs in the cabinet.
There are many decent, honourable members on the benches opposite.
Who do respect John Robinson.
Who do respect the British public.
They know the damage the Prime Minister is doing.
They know things can’t go on as they are.
And they know it is their responsibility to bring an end to this shameful chapter.
Today I urge them once again.
Don’t follow in the slipstream of an out of touch, out of control Prime Minister.
Put their conscience first, put their country first, put John Robinson first and remove the Prime Minister from office.
Bring decency, honesty and integrity back into our politics.
And stop the denigration of everything that this country stands for”. 

march 2022 books…

The Inugami Curse (Seishi Yokomizo): This is the second Yokomizo detective mystery I’ve read. First published in 1972, the story is set in 1940s Japan and the wealthy head of the Inugami Clan has died and his family eagerly await the reading of his will. Strange details emerge about forbidden liaisons, monstrous cruelty and hidden identities which, in turn, lead to a series of bizarre and gruesome murders. Yokomizo’s notorious detective Kindaichi tries to unravel matters… The book is clearly one of those ‘Golden Age of Classic Crime Fiction’ mysteries (with Kindaichi acting the equivalent role of a sort of Hercule Poirot character) – ridiculously intricate, frequently funny but far-fetched plot (albeit a clever one) – culminating in the customary detailed explanation of what had taken place (again, think Agatha Christie novels!). Entertaining and enjoyable. 
The Fell (Sarah Moss): Published in 2021, this novel is set in the Peak District in November 2020 – 7 months or so into the pandemic. A 40-something single mother (furloughed from her waitressing job and feeling the strain financially) is having to isolate for 14 days with her 16-year old son. 10 days in, she finally snaps and decides to abandon her house and garden (and her son) – and despite the illegality of it all - to get back into the landscape just beyond their garden gate… with its varied terrain, ever-changing weather and potential dangers. It proves to be an ill-fated mission. It’s a compelling story told through the minds and lives of four characters (the mother; son; their older, shielding, neighbour; and the divorced mountain-rescuer)… which brings back thoughts of our own attitudes and fears about ‘dealing’ (and still dealing) with the pandemic (lots of “when this is all over” promises to ourselves etc). An unsettling, impressive novel.
My Fathers’ Daughter (Hannah-Azieb Pool): This is our Storysmith bookgroup’s latest book (theme: Black British writing). Pool was born in Eritrea and had been adopted, aged 6 months, by a white couple and grew up in England thinking both her parents were dead until. While she studying at Liverpool University, she received a letter from her brother revealing that her father was alive. Her mother had died in childbirth (hers), but it turned out she had three brothers, a sister and one parent (and countless aunts) that she never knew she had. It took her nearly 10 years before she felt she could face up to the challenge of tracing her biological family and travel to Africa in search of roots. It proved to be a fascinating (at times guilt-ridden and angry about her feelings relating to her adoption) journey of discovery as she comes to acknowledge how different her life would have been if she had stayed in her homeland. The contrasts are enormous: a middle-class, high-profile journalist living in liberal, secular Britain with her own small London apartment and enjoying 3 foreign holidays a year compared with a patriarchal society in Eritrea where women are expected to get married in their teens, produce children and, often, forgo career opportunities. A compelling, candid and enjoyable book.
Silverview (John Le Carré): This was Le Carré’s was final full-length book (he died last December). As everyone knows, he was a brilliant writer of spy stories and this one is predictably clever, complicated and intriguing – with cold war references; hints of communist Poland; the breakup of Yugoslavia; and the struggle in Palestine. My problem is that Le Carré frequently leaves me feeling intellectually inadequate with his own in-depth knowledge and experience of motives and consequences of British foreign policy. I also often found myself constantly needing to trawl back to be reminded of the who’s who of the novel’s principal characters and their frequently complex relationships. It took me some time to ‘get into the story’ but, once in, I found it quite compelling – even if I find the idea of going through life never being able to trust anyone repellent!
The Word Detective (John Simpson): This is our next “Bloke’s Books” book selection. Simpson is the former editor of the Oxford English Dictionary (OED). He joined the editorial staff of the OED in 1976 to work on the Supplement to the OED and was appointed Chief Editor in 1993, a position he held until his retirement in October 2013. As Chief Editor, he led the first comprehensive revision of the OED and oversaw the introduction of its online version. Simpson’s book provides an evocative history of the painstakingly-slow work in producing and subsequently editing and updating the OED and it wasn’t until 1989 that the OED was published “from a computer database”, which enabled dissemination of text as a searchable CD. The very thought of compiling and constantly updating a dictionary without a database - or subsequently the internet - is somewhat overwhelming. I loved Simpson’s humorous, somewhat self-deprecating style of writing and his tenacious eye for detail. He also writes beautifully about his family – his wise wife, and his two daughters (one of whom has a mystifying disability which, poignantly and with a cruel irony, has resulted in her existence in a “wordless world”). It’s a low-key, wise, fascinating and charming book. 

the worst person in the world…

Renate Reinsve is my new favourite actor!
I went along to the Watershed this afternoon to see Norwegian director Joachim Trier’s latest film “The Worst Person in the World”.
 
Despite the fact that Reinsve plays a young woman (Julie) in her late 20s who dumps two men, cheats on and lies to the second, and is fearful of the irreversibility of life decisions, it’s a powerfully life-affirming film.
To say that Julie doesn’t know what she wants to do with her life is something of an understatement – she starts off as a medical student, changes course to psychology and then decides she wants to go into photography. Her first featured relationship is with a comic-book artist - who’s gaining quite reputation for himself (while she’s still working in a bookshop to help pay her way), but ‘discovers’ Man no.2 (who works in a cafe) when she leaves Man no.1’s launch party early. Hey, it’s complicated… but sometimes life’s like that!
 
The Guardian’s film critic Peter Bradshaw gave the film a 5-star review and I think the final paragraph of his review absolutely sums things up perfectly: “This film is sweet and gentle and funny, in ways that are undoubtedly conventional but also very real. It’s the kind of film we’ve all seen done so badly that it’s an unexpected treat to see it done well and to realise that its themes are very important: who do you fall in love with? Who is ‘the one’? When do you realise that you are just settling? Reinsve’s performance is just so good. A star is born”.
I thought it was a brilliant film (I’m now a little in love with Renate Reinsve)(ok, a lot!)… but then I think everyone in today’s cinema audience came away thinking the same.
I REALLY think you should see it for yourself. Despite having seen some wonderful movies this year, I think this could be my film of the year!!

isn’t history (and technology) wonderful?

When we were living in Southville, I discovered the wonderful ‘Know Your Place Bristol’ website, which gave access to a number of digital heritage maps indicating how places had changed over the years. 
Well yesterday, given that we now live in a very different part of the city, I decided to re-visit the website.
It proved to be absolutely fascinating.  
The website enables you to look at various maps of the city spanning a number of years (1746-2019) but, crucially, allows you to compare areas directly through the use of main maps and comparison maps at the same time via linked ‘overlays’ (I’m not explaining this very well – it’s best just to explore the website itself).
 
With the cathedral as one of our neighbours (just 100m down the road), it wasn’t all that surprising that a trawl through the maps would throw up lots of interesting details:
The cathedral came into being 1542; it was formerly St Augustine’s Abbey (church and monastery, founded in 1140) until its dissolution.
It turns out that our apartment block stands on the site of the Bishop’s Park – located alongside the Bishop’s Palace. The palace was damaged by fire in the Bristol Riots of 1831 (together with Queen Square and three prisons!); it was subsequently again attacked by rioters in 1851 – and this time was burnt to the ground (see 1746-1803 map)(top). Other adjacent buildings include the Abbey House (c1150-60, remodelled C17 and rebuilt in the 1950s); the former Deanery (early C17, altered C18); and Bristol Cathedral School (possibly C12 origin and re-founded in 1542 by Henry VIII).
The 1844-1888 map (bottom) shows Deanery Road (other maps suggest it was created at some time between 1855-1874), together with a tramway link from the floating harbour to Hotwells – running immediately adjacent the north wall of the cathedral. Interesting also to note the extensive loss of houses and changed street patterns (much of College Street disappeared, together with Brandon Street, Bellington Lane and Cross Street, for example).
Lots of other interesting stuff, including (from the 1746-1803 map) the marshland (Cannon’s Marsh) and Rope Walk immediately to the south of the Bishop’s Park; the Frome River with its navigable limits extending to Quay Street (just a little beyond Saint Stephen’s Church); the appearance of Park Street on the 1828 map (in place of Bullock’s Park)… oh, and so much more.
I suspect I’ll be returning to city history records again at various times over the coming months. A wonderful resource.
Photo: As you’re probably well aware, I’m not very good when it comes to technology(!), so the accompanying images are merely my ‘marked up’ photographs taken from my laptop (I didn’t understand the ‘screenshot’ instructions!).
Note: ‘Know Your Place’ heritage websites also extend as far as London, Birmingham, Wales, Cornwall, South Gloucestershire and North Somerset. 
PS: Click on the images to enlarge.

putin...

For the vast majority of people, recent events have secured Putin’s place as one of the world’s unpopular and most feared individuals.
People (world leaders, politicians, journalists and alike) have expressed shock and surprise at what’s happening in Ukraine and yet, as a documentary first shown on the BBC in March 2018 seems to show, it was only a matter of time.
https://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b09vb7m3/putin-the-new-tsar

Although I was vaguely aware of most of the events highlighted in documentary, I freely admit that I had largely swept such issues aside (yes, I know most of us have had ‘our fill’ of sickening images of the Russian army bombarding Ukraine). BUT I really would recommend that you watch the documentary in an effort to put things into context… and to underline that we shouldn’t have been surprised by Putin’s actions.
Despite his lowly KGB colonel credentials, Putin became President in May 2000. Between 2000-2004, Putin set about the reconstruction of the impoverished condition of the country -  apparently (according to Wikipedia) winning a power-struggle with the Russian oligarchs, reaching a 'grand bargain' with them, which allowed the oligarchs to maintain most of their powers, in exchange for their explicit support for Putin's government (and, it seems, direct financial compensation/contributions/back-handers). Indeed, according to the documentary, Putin was regarded as “the world’s richest man” – in 2015, outspoken critic Boris Nemtsov circulated pamphlets pointing out that Putin’s wealth included 58 jets, 2 yachts and a summer palace (Nemtsov was assassinated soon after). Corruption and institutionalised corruption in the country is now considered rife.
 
In 2008, there was a crisis in Georgia (with Russian tanks sent to the country and a 5-day war resulting); in 2014, there were several Russian military incursions into Ukraine and, as a result of a Russian-organised, widely-criticised referendum, Crimea (then part of Ukrainian territory) was annexed to join Russia.
In the documentary, Sergei Pugachev (who helped Putin come to power) described Putin as a “weak man… an envious and greedy man… and he’s a man who always lies”. Nemtsov described Putin’s attitudes demonstrated the “extreme narcissism of the emperor”. Former Foreign Secretary, William Hague, maintained that Putin “has invented new kinds of warfare which Western countries are still struggling to come to terms with… “with its full spectrum capability”.
But, for me, the most telling words of the documentary came from Gary Kasparov (former World Chess Champion and who, in 2008, had announced his intention to run as a candidate in that year's Russian presidential race - but, after encountering logistical problems in his campaign, for which he blamed "official obstruction", he withdrew).
Kasparov said: “It’s not IF Putin would attack, it’s only when and where”.
Sobering and telling words from four years ago.

ali and ava…

I went to the Watershed (again!) this afternoon to see director Clio Barnard’s film “Ali and Ava” – starring the rather brilliant actors Claire Rushbrooke and Adeel Akhtar in the title roles. It’s a modern love story set in Bradford over the course of a month.
 
Ava is a single grandmother (five times over) whose life is her family. She lives in a rough part of the city, but oozes endless patience and tenderness at home and in her teaching assistant job in a primary school – despite the lingering damage caused by a violent, alcoholic ex-husband (who died the previous year). In a much nicer part of Bradford, Ali shares a home with his wife, but is a lonely figure as their marriage has effectively ended; they carry on for the sake of Ali’s tight-knit British-Pakistani family (who live next door), but occupy separate bedrooms.
 
It’s a tough, and yet hugely joyful, drama of love conquering the divisions of race and prejudice; middle age disillusionment; the challenges of parenthood and grandparenthood; and the tensions of class. The film creates a wonderful, effortless chemistry through the use of music, brilliant acting (and story-telling) and sheer charm.
Utterly captivating. 

the duke…

Roger Mitchell’s film ‘The Duke’ opened this afternoon at the Watershed and Moira+I attended the first showing of its ‘run’. Given the awful events in Ukraine, I felt a little guilty booking the tickets - because I did so knowing full well that the film would bring a smile to our faces at a time when so many others were suffering.
But, in the end, I’m very glad we did.
Somehow, watching a feel-good film about someone operating with the best of motives and for the benefit of others was a reminder that, even at the worst of times, there are bright pin-pricks of light.
 
The film is based on the true story of Kempton Bunton (quite brilliantly played by Jim Broadbent), a Newcastle cab driver who in 1965 appeared at the Old Bailey for stealing Goya’s portrait of the Duke of Wellington from London’s National Gallery.
Bunton writes dozens of unpublished novels and unproduced plays (emotionally driven by the tragic death of his daughter) and is briefly imprisoned for refusing to pay for his TV licence on the grounds that he has removed the cathode that allows his set to receive the BBC. He’s something of a working-class eccentric – frequently protesting at the government’s misuse of taxpayers’ money, standing up for workers’ rights and the like. The excellent Helen Mirren plays his exasperated, but loving, wife Dorothy.
Bunton ends up making a trip to London to petition for pensioners to be given free TV licences – a trip which ends up taking him to the National Gallery, where they’ve just spent £140,000 of public money to secure Goya’s portrait of the Duke of Wellington (which Kempton describes as being “some half-baked portrait by a Spanish drunk” and argues that the cash would have been better spent providing free TV licences for all the UK’s old age pensioners. Bunton is one of those stubborn, eccentric individualists – at times hugely irritating, but also someone with admirable determination and energy (and with the best of motives).
I loved this film. I loved the story. I loved the characters and I loved the acting. Yes, it might have been over-sentimentalised at times… but it gave me a very warm feeling inside and made me smile – something we all need in these difficult and testing times.
You have to see it.