Happy Halloween!

Halloween

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Movies I've watched recently:

  • Mördaren ljuger inte ensam (2013) - IMDb 1/10

    2014-10-26 21:43
    *

    This is a plethora of bad. There are so many bad things about this, apart from the fact that Rapace and Novotny's abilities should be far better utilised. A midsummer's party in the Swedish archipelago, seemingly set in the 1950s; intrigue is everywhere, despite there being a handful of characters there. Nothing bad about this, but where it has been handled subtly in the past - e.g. Woody Allen's "Match Point" - this is a study in treating the viewer as infinitely stupid. Sexual "innuendo" is continuous, and constantly overstated so blatantly that you'd think sexuality was just discovered and has never been used in film before. You really don't care about the characters. Who lives, who dies - who cares? Apart from that, the film *glows*. That's not symbolism; there's an abysmal filter over the film which makes every bit of light look like it's glowing. Incredibly irritating. All in all: avoid, by Jove, and never look back.

    0.3
  • Attica (TV Movie 1980) - IMDb 6/10

    2014-10-26 17:12
    * * * * * *

    I think Emma Goldman noted that every civil war is class war. In this instance, that really rings true. One of the characters in the film notes that 60f the inmates in Attica were black and 0f the guards were black. As for the higher-ups of Attica, well, I'll pick my guess at the quotas there. The Attica riot was spectacular: the inmates took over and stood their ground for 22 days until riot police massacred a bunch of inmates and, actually, 10 of the hostages. The film deals with the humane aspects of the take-over in a lot of ways. The legal people mainly think the inmates' demands are valid. The governor is slammed by demands from outsiders, seemingly mainly the people and the police unions. The dilemma is plain to see. I really liked the fact that there's very little soundtrack here. The film ended abruptly, but that's due to the real chain of events. Recommendable because of the humanity.

    0.3
  • Hypnotisören (2012) - IMDb 2/10

    2014-10-19 23:32
    * *

    This is basically like your everyday Beck film, but two things are different here: 1. One actor can actually act somewhat; it's Lena Olin 2. The cinematography is slighly better than during most Beck films; still, the shaky-handheld-cam thing still has Swedish film locked in a vice Apart from those two things, the dialogue is bog standard (i.e. dreadful and unbelievable) and I found no sympathy for the characters, the film or the plot. Do avoid.

    0.3
  • The Trial of Jeffrey Dahmer (Video 1992) -... 7/10

    2014-10-18 17:36
    * * * * * * *

    The voice-over from the man at the start is *not* rated here; the trial, however, is; naturally, this is a very abridged version as this film is only 90 minutes long, but the most interesting bits about it, I think, are the psychologist's words from having spoken with Dahmer and Dahmer's own words at the very end.

    0.3
  • The Jeffrey Dahmer Files (2012) - IMDb 7/10

    2014-10-18 16:36
    * * * * * * *

    This is a documentary-meets-dramatisation film where Jeffrey Dahmer's deeds and trial meets an intelligent way of display; the viewer is treated as an intelligent being, and some knowledge about Dahmer should be attained before watching this film. Having said that, it's interesting to see some of the interviews as they were more eye-opening than other bits of film that I have seen in regards to Dahmer's life, including written materials. This is good, but one or two testimonies could have been scratched.

    0.3

The Jesus and Mary Chain – 30 years after “Psychocandy”

Psychocandy

There’s a little rabble-rousing going on as The Jesus and Mary Chain‘s “Psychocandy” turns 30 years old.

From the wonderful video to “You Trip Me Up“:

JAMC

JAMC

I got reacquainted with that video after having read Martin Carr’s words on that single, in an article on his fave singles:

JAMC

Like Carr says:

The video is just fantastic. They’re walking around somewhere in the Mediterranean, sitting on the beach in full leather gear with their massive guitars. After hearing the Mary Chain, that was all I wanted to listen to – bands who did that.

Any band that wears leather, carries an anti-lecherous look and does so on the beach while basking in sunshine has my full attention and utter adoration. Oh, here’s the video.

Don’t forget to check out this interview in The Guardian, published a day ago. It’s a cool insight into how the JAMC thought and behaved with a little on how they think and seem today.

Bonus clip, JAMC being interviewed really early in their career. Highlights include a reporter asking William Reid the following question: “I read in a paper somewhere that you have been described as the best band in the hemisphere as well as the worst band, now how do you react to that?” (or similar). To that, William replies “My favourite colour is gold.” Also goto 05:10 in the video to see the drunken audience going as roadies off-load equipment from the stage.

To end, don’t miss Zoë Howe’s book on the JAMC; my review is found here.

Extra bonus track, “Just Like Honey” performed live in 2013 with Bilinda Butcher from My Bloody Valentine:

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A chapter from Howard Jacobson’s “J”

Howard Jacobson - J

This is a chapter from the book J” by Howard Jacobson. It’s not a spoiler in the least, merely a taste of the quite straight-forward dialogue. Humans talking. Almost reminds me of the walk-and-talk stuff that made the Richard Linklater beautiful film-trilogy. Here we go, it’s all Jacobson’s writing from here:

Kevern had wondered, when he’d first discovered his depraved inheritance, whether it would put him off sex. That it should put him off sex, he didn’t doubt. But would it?

The answer was no. Or at least not entirely. He knew he had to take precautions. He couldn’t bring into the world a being who might show recessive symptoms of a kind which he – so far, at least – had not. And this meant not only being particular when it came to contraception, but going about coitus gently and considerately. Restoring to the act, maybe, something of the sacred. As it happened, such conscientiousness was not difficult for him: it accorded well with his precise, reluctant nature. He had not been put on earth to fling his seed around.

Ailinn didn’t mind that he didn’t pile-drive himself into her. It made a change.

‘Sleepin’ with you is like sleepin’ with a woman,’ she told him.

Though a clean enunciator out of bed, she made a habit of dropping her gs when verbalising sex. Sleepin’, screwin’, fuckin’, even makin’ love. He didn’t know why. To rough herself up a bit, perhaps. Or perhaps to rough up him.

‘Is that northern speech?’ he had asked her.

‘Nah. It’s my speech.’ With which she made a triumphant, tarty little fist.

So yes, it was her way of communalising their sex, taking what was special out of it, making it less fragile, putting them both on a more ordinary footing with each other.

Did she find him overscrupulous? Would she have liked him to swear? (Pog mo hoin?)

He unwound himself and sat up. They were in his bed. She had invited him to hers, an altogether more sweetly smelling chamber now that she had got rid of all the spiders and repainted it, with giant paper sunflowers everywhere, but he was uneasy about staying away from his cottage all night. And besides, he lived alone and she didn’t.

‘So “sleepin’” with me is like “sleepin’” with a woman . . . I’m guessing you mean that as a compliment, though to me, of course, it isn’t. Unless you prefer sleeping with women.’

‘Never done it,’ she said.

‘So how do you know it’s like sleeping with me?’

‘Because sleepin’ with you isn’t like sleepin’ with other men.’

Men! Couldn’t she have spared him that?

‘How isn’t it like sleeping with other men?’

‘Well you don’t seem as though you want to hurt me, for a start.’

‘Why would I hurt you? Do you want me to hurt you?’

‘No I do not.’

‘Then what’s the nature of your discontent?’

She slipped out of bed, as though she needed to be upright when he questioned her as hard as this. He tried not to look at her feet.

‘I’m not discontented at all,’ she said. ‘It’s hard to describe what I feel. It’s as if you don’t care, or at least your first care isn’t, whether I feel you’ve entered me.’

‘Oh! Would you like me to signal when I have? I could wave a handkerchief.’

He made jokes, she noticed, when he was hurt.

‘No, I don’t mean that way. I’m really not complaining. It’s lovely. I’m not putting this very well but I don’t think you care whether you make a difference to me, sexually – inside – or not. Most men make a song and dance about it. “Can you feel that? Do you like that?” They want to be sure the conquest of your body is complete. They would like to hear you surrender. It’s as though you don’t mind whether I notice you’re visiting or not.’

‘Visiting?’

She took a moment . . . ‘Yes, visiting. It’s as though you’re on a tourist visa. Just popping in to take a look around.’

‘That’s not how it feels to me. I’m not planning being somewhere else. You need to know that.’

‘Good.’

‘But it doesn’t sound very nice for you.’

‘Well it is and it isn’t. It’s a change not to feel invaded. It’s nice to be left alone to think my own thoughts.’

‘Thoughts! Should you be having thoughts at such a time?’

‘Feelings, then. You know what I mean – not having to go along with what someone else wants. Not having to be issuing periodic bulletins of praise and satisfaction. But what are yours?’

‘What are my thoughts and feelings?’

‘Yes. What do you want?’

‘Ah, now you’re asking.’

‘You won’t tell me?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Don’t know whether you’ll tell me?’

‘Don’t know what I want.’

But he made her a lovespoon in which the two of them could be recognised, entwined, inseparable, carved from a single piece of wood.

In return for which she made him a pair of exquisitely comical purple pansies, a paper likeness of his face in one, hers in another. She arranged them in a vase on his dressing table, so that they stared at each other unremittingly.

‘When you dust them, do it lightly,’ she advised.

‘I will sigh the dust away.’ He pursed his lips and let out the softest emission of air, as though blowing a kiss to a butterfly.

‘I love you,’ she told him.

Why not, he thought. Why ever not? ‘I love you,’ he said.

As he’d told her, he wasn’t planning to be somewhere else. He should not have judged his parents their sin. When the love thing is upon you there’s no one who can break you up. And he wasn’t even absolutely sure the love thing was upon him – yet.

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My saved links (weekly)

Posted from Diigo. The rest of my favorite links are here.

Vincent van Gogh

Vincent van Gogh: self portrait

I recently found a book that’s available online, which is all about Vincent van Gogh:

I’ve loved van Gogh’s work for a very long time. When I was little I remember visiting the local library, looking through books with painters and while I was amazed by the images that washed over me and could spend hours in a closed room just gazing over it all, van Gogh was the one that truly stayed with me. I read a book about him and was entralled: his portraits of people, his mental illness, his time in Arles and how that affected him, his early copies of existing artworks and how they contained his touches, his relation with Gauguin, his realistic painting turning impressionistic

Wheatfields

I think I found van Gogh at the same time that I found Rimbaud, which was a double godsend, in a way. Impressionable, young and hungry for all kinds of shit, I lapped all of that up; I needed it. And van Gogh’s wild colours and choice of objects, scenery, people…it could so easily have become boring but somehow wasn’t! I didn’t care about why, but I loved it and just wanted more. I really recommend his work, and there’s so much of it; some think he was manic as he produced so much, but anyway, I’m just glad he did.

Vincent van Gogh: self-portrait

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