In
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Concrete Editor-in-Chief JimWhalley
Nathan Dlxon picks over his Nuts while pompously gazing in his navel.
Event Editor Nathan 'n ot G areth Davies' Dixon
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Assistant Editor Richard 'sly' Simm Arts Editors Katharine Clemow & Edward Mooney FihnEditor Philip Sainty
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Music Editors Matt Sargeson & Sarah Edwardes TV Editors Tim Barker & Kate Bryant
Event Chief Photographer Colin Griffiths
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an you ima gine a brain-rotting girlie mag b e ing called Muff? Or, a little less respectfully, Minge? So, a boy/ man 's m a g azin e called Nuts'? "Well, m ate, it's a no nonsense, in-your-fac e, s hout it loud an' proud type name innit?" howls the e ditor while scratching his crotch and p icking his nose -- the e mbodime nt , in one phrase, of all things male. But I feel more than merely my member. Or my mutt 's. Is this correct? Being a rather confused mod ern male , reeling among fluxing codes of conduct and a little unsure of where to earn my gender stripes, I opened this (free I might add) copy in the hope of finding out what I should be. In fact, even before opening, the cove r did not bode well -- "WOMEN!" it bawls; "SPORT!" it screams. Well , I have b e en known to enjoy indulging both interests, but the tone grates a little from the start. It promises I 00 action-p acked pages to come. Beckham , Ne ll McAndre w and a car are on the fro nt. Pe rhaps it might p ick up inside. The ve ry ne xt p ag e brings expectatioins crashing to the floor with an overloud 'b ang '. "FOOTBALL" it b e llows, with the se cond picture of David Be ckham in two pag e s. I d esp ise the m an. "HARDWARE" is the word slapped next to a b oring, but big, yellow truck. "WOMEN" and " MORE WOMEN" it barks. "CARS!", "TRUE STORIES!" (next to a picture of an alligator) "REAL-LIFE!" (next to a couple
Contributors (in order of appearance): Dean Bowman • Lucy Mowatt • Tom Pateman • Suzeanne Rickenback • Joe Dunthorne • Rob Lavine • lsabel Dyson • Abe Daives • Dan Chandler • Harriet Brookes • Hannah Walker • Emma Sweeny • Richie Jones • Catherine Lumb • Ruth Charnock • The Mighty Atom • James Banks • Christo McCraken
of army type s in full camo, body-armour, visors and rifles that shoot round corne rs; whe n was the last time you experie nce d that?). Already it is starting to feel like an irrita tingly one-sided pub conversation with a drunk , lary, monosyllabic lag er-lout. Not my ideal drinking partner. Howeve r, the noble cause of the furtherm e nt of social scie nce re quire s that I p erseve re. Next we have a c onte n ts page. Again. Having been made emphatically aware of what is going to be inside, I move swiftly on in a quest to find anything of substance. On page six appears the first feature . Four fifths of the double page spread is pictures. They are taking the three-year-old re ading age approach. The 'feature' constitutes about one hundred words (if that) of ridgebrewed grunt-journalism. A man had an accid e nt when skiing once, appare ntly. After this , again, is a fe ature of about one hundre d or one hundre d and fifty words . Vinnie Jones has an attack of 'chair rage ' a s he throws out some old furniture . Edifying stuff. The n we are informe d that John Travolta owns planes. Marve llous . The n ext page features two C-list fe male c e le b s sunb athing on h oliday in bikinis. "Tara is curre ntly going out with West Ham s trike r Youssef Sofiane" it te lls m e and I wonde r how I ever got by not knowing. Why should I give a limp boots trap what either of them are doing ? A couple of p ages on , we are shown a tall man and a short man. It is revealed that
one is shorter than the other, while the other is taller, but that neither really minds. Size doesn't matter is the conclusion. Ripping stuff. The rest of the magazine is filled with guns, cars, guns , cars, cars, guns, scantily clad women, women without much clothing, cars and then TV In short, it is a durnbed-down version of Loaded (if that were possible) for all those men who find the articles in the aforementioned magazine a little too taxing in terms of cerebral gymnastics. It is yet another reductive iden tity-politics fuelled gender-specific magazine for people who have trouble defining themselves in terms of anything beyond the playground s lugs-'n'-snails vs sugarand-spice dialectic . The male Heat! MarieC/aire/ Glamour/ Hello?/ OK etc e tc. Nuts is a magazine for men that are either not interested in, or are incapable of, reading it. A more re dundant item is difficult to imagine - perhaps Ghandi 's hairdryer might just pip it, though. If not then it is an exercise in titilation and torture, displaying a varie ty of the things that the couch-potato readers will never do : drive fast cars , shag glamourous women and the like, all aimed at getting the m more inte re ste d inste ad in the curre nt epidemic of vacuous idol worship. My progress through the magazine has led me to the conclusion that either I am not m ale (a recent b a throom e xamination prove d this summation incorre c t) or that a more appropriate name for this litter-tray line r might b e " Bollocks".
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Peter Kramer is such a cutiel Don't you think?
Dammit, I feel lilce groovin' with you tonight! MissJones, Hugs for my favourite lady LoveKP.
There once was a called Specs, Who couldn't stop sending dirty texts But the texts weren't enough To satisfy my muff All! need is some good oral sex.
ToNathan, You work really hard, well done, Nobody. I'm so sorry Sarah, that doesn't normally happen... Hey Big Al, You're the best XXX.
Canadian Bob: I'm pregnant and I think it's yours ...
JUST SHAG ME I hope you have a great day. If it was with me, it really would be. Beech flat SF to Flat SA.
JENNY, PLEASE.
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Richie H @ the bar Roses are red Violets are blue I'm a schizophrenic And so ami.
!love you more every day (if that is possible) I adore sleeping and Jim, Come play waking up next to you (even at 7 in the darn on my morning) !love lookBarge! ing at you (even when Rosiex you have panda eyes) and the most scary bit? I think I will conAdam, I've seen you in tinue doing that for a long time .. . Loz, Laura Ashley V. !love you feleting [filletX. ing, surely - ed) Tomypoo, your fish. Boy, !love you, Dave, you sexy lilce a i don't know why !love you, Llama. you lie Dave. in my loo.
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Dave, I can't do that, Dave.
DearJames, It's only been lS short months, but it feels lilce a lifetime. I can't believe you're off to America next year. I'll miss you with all my heart, Yours lovingly, John xxx.
P.G.E. You're well fit!
i I You be my. •• How'bout it BethMoon? You know youwanna ... Happy Valentine's Gaston, I love you!
HeiBubba, Fancy some naughties? Love Trixi xxx
Can't wait to spend Valentines Day in the octopus's garden
I hate women, but then again I can't go without sex. Kingsley Amis.
Yep, Nat, U R dumped!
To my Honey bunch Thank you for making the last 5 months happy-! look forward to the next months! Baby Cakes
To Essex Girl, Love you to the moon From Chicken Head. Get a job, love, the Careers Team
Holly Martin, Not a day goes by that I don't think about your heavenly smile and precious heart. I know I'm only a small country buy from across the way, but surely a man as foolish as me deserves a chance. Kelly Osborne, U is da Buffest Check eva! U iz soo fine and well fit! I'll neva 'preach' 2 U darl! B mine baby! BigMxxx
Matt K is a sexy I'm hungry. To my man Darling Liam, Chrissie, Ryan, I'd just lilce to say What we you are the best that I think you are XXX have is great, a complete and thing that's ever All my love, utter loser! So happened to me. I To Chris, you Alexis. there! But I'd probcan't wait to go to are the special ably still kiss you China and have the ray of light if I was drunk best time ever! shining in the MrJT enough Love you always, I'm looking forward to some Watcha got for me?! Village. Keep Rachxx serious spanking off my domiHappy Valentines, Baby! up the good natrix. Thanks for all the canGareth Norman, Love Maggie work. You can ings, You may do doit.Yay. Colin Yael xxx. computing, but Griffiths is Dearest Osama, I you're well sexy My dear Team Westwood sexy, James Drakeford To know you must feel and I wanna turn I will never forget Amsterdam, luv !like you so much all you lonely this Valentine's A's your floppy into drugs, prostitutes, strippers, 99% of - if you don't want single ladies out but hear my hot Day, sweeeeetl a hard-drive! booze, porn and non stop women. anything more I there (particularly word arrows of Kisses, laughs, Chrissie, understand but those with onsmouldering lust and St. Valentine Sharonxxx You are all legends You gave you know where I campus accomabe happy - I love you, was a no good Love you all xxx me crabs, am ... Rob, dation!) !love your beard, let drunk. At least, love Jenni. Please remember I'm really sorry for the way us roast Christians that's what the I've been acting ... Avril, the Union barmen Roses are red together and be tooth fairy told To an undis- this Valentine's I never meant for you to get !love you more Violets are blue merry. Actually, you me. closable the wrong impression, Day LCR night. get into my bed than Bovril and, probably don't person, please talk to me again so I Flirt a little and like Bovril, I and I'll give you a acknowldege You were happy can explain. 'show a little would lilce to screw. Valentine's Day at all right, waking Dr.Kate, To a man. Valentine's shoulder!!' drink you when XX. -you're a fanatical up the next I hate students, when are we You had a blue car. It Ed, Day, from a They need your I'm ill. fundamentalist day was love from Mr. going to play was loud with big secret Yours always, love. Sorry, bye! Muslim. pretty awful, Green. doctors and wheels. You were tall Gary admirer. I shouldn't Barry, nurses, love with blonde hair. We To all specail Hoods, Dear 24, have slept. we miss you because Dr.Ali glanced. I wore red. I tried to think of the first time I you know I love you we grew to love you. Find me! fell in love with you, and all! endlessly, Please come back. could think of was the constant love Big Daddy Things just aren't the To someone who can stream of moments I continued to same. COME BACK, Hood! convince me that fall in love with you more. I love romantic monogamy is you my sweet, your angel. Matt ... .. .. .. Happy NOT an invidious Valentines .. ........ . Kbourgois construct Kate S years. 8 houses. based on love, a widely Innumerable floormates. Johnny, held but simply 2 house mates. 3 roomHappy Valentines mates. 2 countries. In non-existent concept. Love Emily Also, someone who can September it's going to Ellerton, aka show me that such a be just us and it's going The cunning construct does not to be great, Linguist! preclude making real Love J. changes and bettering Jess, our sorry lives. A Little Ollie Nearly 3 years! comrade, therefore, not We love you Endless Love, a lover. The Hockey Team Cambridge Ben
ne of ideas-merc hant , is ne xt to impossible without eithe r a life tim e of work a nd savings behind you , a le nient job, or a taste for extreme pove rty. The Poetry Cubicle on Elm Hill , cosily squashed within the Tardis-like walls of The Tea House, has been in existence since February 8th 2002. Shortly after the conception of the idea, it was set up with a collection of donated books in the Frontier Gallery on
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ve r since the nove l came on the market as bourgeois Britain's favourite dream repository, poetry has struggled to find a role. Painting survived photography and theatre survived cinema, just. Poe try, howeve r, barely manages to scrape by, mainly thanks to the aid of academia which refuses to kill-off the form, and provides a haven for otherwise destitute poets, as long as they teach all the hours God sends. While novels are churned o ut in their millions, with glossy conceptual cover designs;
while nove lists gracefully don the mantle of the glitterati , and dabblers in other arts are welcomed by the London arts press, poets are lucky to scrape through a locally produced slim volume with a tiny circulation. Those poets who manage to achieve some kind of national (let alone international) recognition, have to wait until cardigans and slippers become attractive fashion choices and are forced into a bearded (even for the women) role as a national sage to whom people turn in times of trouble; and then have the delight of looking forward to poet laureateship and subsequent obsolescence. In general, though , being young and a writer, or any other brand
"The audience, of mixed ages and backgrounds, sat with steaming pots of remarkable and enigmatic teas."
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11.02.04
Unthank Road , but, since the closure of the gallery, has taken up its present home. The drive for the initiative was Sara Wingate- Grey, previously employed at the university by Pen and !ne Press. Fed up by the lack of events and venues in Norwich for poetry, and the prevailing idea of the angst-ridden, garret-dwelling narcissist-as-poet, the Cubicle aims to provide a social venue where the poets can come out of the woodwork and start interacting - both with each other and with an audience. It works to provide a space and catalyst for poets in Norfolk , hoping to show that poetry is not something isolated and unusual but constant and omnipresent , and that forging a path as a writer of brilliant words is not a dream, but a wonderfully present possibility. W ingate-Grey 's own ability simply to make things happen through the immediate application of a good idea is indicative of the achievements of the Cubicle, and just what poets can do if they set their mind to it. ince that fateful day the cubicle has managed to impress funding bodies enough to become proud recipients of largish amounts of money. Armed with a Millennium Award and a grant from Arts Council East the basic concept of the cubicle took shape. A free library of poetry; poetry sales with seventy-five per cent of monies returning to the writer him/ herself; website based activities including virtual 'poets in residence ' a nd regular events which last year meant trips to Glastonbury and Amsterdam spreading the Cubicle creed. At the Tea House on the evening of the 2nd, the creed showed some of its followers , as the series of monthly music and poetry nights were inaugurated. Wingate-Grey had come down from Manchester, where she is working to set up another branch of the Cubicle, to coordinate the event and local Lawrence Bradby provided the headlining act. Music came from acoustic group Sunday Music. The audience, of mixed ages and backgrounds, sat with steaming pots of remarkable, and enigmatic, teas -
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including hibiscus , raspberry and cinnamon and a pung ent Earl Grey -listening to what is normally, and too often tragically, anchored to the page. Bradby brought his encounters with Norfolk based asylum-seekers to life, m emorably relating the silent night-time journey of a lorry across France to the d amp , dark lorry loading b ay a t C alais where the greasy Channel swell heaved under headlights. The lorry, " May or may not," have been carrying h umans . By this refusal to conclude the poem he delved into the ambiguity and distress of the situation, enveloping all so-called human feeling in d esperation and the desire for quick money. This could have been an innocent cargo of to matoes, but it could also be trafficking. The harbour water itself slid the light across its surface - the water is given a volitio n disallowed the refugees, who, let alone be allowed to live in peace, are not even allowed the privilege of d efinite presence, or absence. Sunday Music, a ragtag group of guitars, clarinet, violin , various shaky instruments and what appeared to be a breath powered reed piano, played shaky improvisation out in the warm evening air of the courtyard, backing on to Saint Clement's Church. The over imaginative among us would have thrilled at the line of continuity from the mediaeval peasant art of the flint church to the contemporary art of the disenfranchised forger of words. This disempowerment, both of those unfortunates who choose to be poets , and of all those who need to speak out, was voiced in trenchant fashion in the open mic section which included a three page rampage through Coca-Cola's dirty laundry. The tenuous rhyming of'dollar' and ' cola' was heralded by a sly glance from the poet. Another activated mind referred to the high-jacking of one of the Beatles ' psychedelic love anthems by Scottish sectarians tunefully singing, "We all live in an orange submarine." The pen is mightier than the sword but the sword is constantly wielded; pain, d espair and war are daily facts of life . Perhaps the spoken word is mightier still. Just a cursory glance at the papers can show evidence of the persuasive half-lies told consistently by politicians and the dismal roads they lead us down. Ancient Greeks treasured the art of the spoken word and used, and abused it, as virtuosos. With the increasing take -over of the written word, of the image, of parliament, of hearts and minds by the dubious authority of international business and media, perhaps a rediscovery of the power that every human carries embedded within their every utterance is under way. Events at the Poetry Cubicle show the willingness of these people to join their voices to the multitude rather than timidly cower and accept someone else's. Billions of clamouring, even conflicting voices , is better than one undisputed speaker. All that is needed are people to listen, and join in.
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Features 05
I' m a Celebrity... he I p me. he real problem with I'm A Celebrity, and the only reason I've even momentarily suggested that Johnny and Jenny should pair-up is because there is nothing for them to do for most of the time. The 'Bush Tucker Trials' provide some disturbance, but its all been done. It was pretty damn awful to see someone eat a live grub for the first time, but I've seen it so many times since, I'm starting to think that I could eat them. Fit Club on the other hand, has a constant source of tension for the contestants, with the battle of the bulge always looming over their every sweaty press-up. Eight overweight, obscure, personalities running around fields and having ridiculous hypnotherapy sessions doesn't immediately scream good television, but its got drama to say the least. Alison Hammond is incredibly entertaining, especially because of her soft spot for Harvey Walden the show's drill sergeant and all-round not very nice guy. Apart from the team of skinny, snooty judges, none of the show takes itself very seriously and rightly so. Fit Club is like watching the kids in school who got picked last for teams all doing P.E. together. Then again, if Fit
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In the jungle or in the gym, it seems we can't get enough of celebity-based reality shows. Kate Bryant asks, why? dds are that if you've turned on a telly in the past fortnight, then you've witnessed at least a little bit of I'm A Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here. If not, then just imagine Big Brother in the jungle with mud,
spiders and less cult appeal. Tagging along behind /'m A Celebrity and not making quite as much of a fuss is Celebrity Fit Club also making a return to our screens. Few shows manage to symbolise all that ITV represents quite as accurately as these two programmes. Both I'm A Celebrity and Fit Club are largely in the same vein, loosely based around some kind of competition that everyone has to pretend they aren't interested in winning with the word "charity" liberally scattered about the place to give the whole process some sense of value. Of course no one could miss the common feature to both these shows, that elusive creature known as the celebrity. When the first celebritybased reality shows hit our screens we all had very high expectations of what exactly we could expect. We anticipated such home-grown luminaries as
voyeurism. The big hole in this plan being that we took little time in discovering celebrities to be equally as banal and unattractive as the random members of the public that have previously fuelled reality tv. Perhaps some of the egos (and busts) were slightly bigger, but if something is expecting the major commitment that nightly, hour-long updates evoke then we need more than that. This time round both Fit Club and I 'm A Celebrity have turned out the usual D-list bunch, but with a few entertaining personalities. Ranging from Jenny Bond to Jono to Johnny Rotten, it seems ITV have reasoned that if you can't go for quality, go for quirkiness. You're guaranteed to find at least one or two familiar, and maybe even liked, faces amongst the crowd but you won't be star struck. ITV know that all we're really interested in is whose going to have the biggest argument, whose going to cheat on their boy/girlfriend and whose going to have a complete breakdown and walk out. Which is all we were ever interested in, celebrities or no. There is the added bonus of knowing that if you put a has-been with an inferiority complex who is eager to get some much needed publicity in an enclosed space with several of the
Club is a high-school P.E. lesson, then I'm A Celebrity is the changing rooms
afterwards. Celebrities and charity, charity and celebrities - two opposing forces both vying for our money and attention. Neither of the two ever used to want to have anything to do with one another, unless it was Comic Relief and most of us didn't watch that. Somehow, things have shifted so that its actually morally wrong not to watch these programmes. If we don't watch, those poor little charities won't get any money at all and it'll be all our fault. I'm definitely not the first and I'm sure I'm not the last to say that if the celebrities really want these charities to have IJl.Oney badly enough to delve into tanks of eels, spiders and crocodiles then they could just stay at home and donate the money themselves. I have never tuned in to I'm A Celebrity for the good of mankind, and I never will. I tune in to see what I saw last time, people who wish they were at the BAITAs, being covered in ants all to win a can of beans. So, if you want to change the world, don't bother, but if you liked it the first time round then you'll be pleased, because nothing has changed.
NORWICH THEATRE ROYAL BOX OFFICE (01603) 63 00 00
"All we're really interested in is whose going to have the biggest argument" Catherine Zeta-Jones, Ewan McGreggor or failing that, the Beckhams. We expected at the very least to know who all the contestants were. Now we've been hardened by all too many disappointing clusters of children's presenters, pop music rejects and obscure athletes, and expect nothing of the sort. Instead the revelation of who will fill our screens with mirth is more like a who's who of daytime tv, radio, and low profile sport.. .of the 90's. No Zeta-Jones, McGreggor or Beckham, but Melinda Messenger, Mark Owen and Nigel Ben. A little disappointed but still interested we tuned in nonetheless, eager to experience a whole different league of
same, you are left with a volatile mix. While watching I'm A Celebrity I personally enjoy the seething tension, little noted by many but most definitely present, between Jordan and Kerry McFadden. There's also a lot of buzz around what's going on between Jordan and Peter Andre, but who cares about that when you can watch the Ozzy and Sharon of the outback - Johnny Rotten and Jenny Bond. Johnny, of Sex Pistols fame路, has yo-yoed between a need to maintain his old rebellious, monarchy hating, adolescent image and his new over-the-hill, basket-weaving, royal-correspondent loving urges. That is until he threw a wobbly and went home.
www. theatreroyalnorwich .eo. uk THEATRE STREET, NORWICH NR2 1 RL
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Cinefile no. 39
Mona Lisa
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Mona Lisa? So that 'll be all beards, enigmatic smiles and paint? Not quite. The only time you get see the famous picture is a cheap copy selotaped to the side of a fridge . And that can only be a good thing, because interesting as a cockney Davinci would no doubt be, the world should be grateful Bob Hoskins chose instead to play George, a London gangster with a heart of gold. Sounds original No, is doesn't, does it? But what Mona Lisa (named after the Nat King Cole song) lacks in concept, it more than makes up for in its execution. Go-written and directed by Neil Jordan, the film manages to present a tale of violent crime, prostitution and drug abuse while remaining an affecting and frequently extremely funny love story. And the plot? George is a nice guy with a nasty temper and a nastier dress se nse. Released from prison after a seven-year stretch, he just wants to see his daughter and resume his career as an honest , hard working criminal. Neither proves to be easy. His ex-wife won 't let him in the house and the only job his former boss (Michael Caine) has to offer is chauffeur to Simone (Cathy Tyson) a prostitute who, initially, George can't stand. But soon ... Exactly. Despite appearing cold and aloof, Simone eventually warms to her driver's charmingly foul-mouthed innocence. And besides, she needs his help to find a friend of hers , a heroin addict who held prisoner by a particularly sadistic pimp. As he goes deeper into the world of London prostitution, George becomes increasingly disturbed by the similarities between the young girls on the street and his daughter. A regular bundle of laughs then? You'd be surprised. Such unpleasantness as bloody knife fights and ritual beatings is expertly balanced by lighte r moments , often involving Robbie Coltrane as George 's friend , an entrepreneurial m e chanic with a love for cheap detective fiction. It's also worth noting Hoskins ' scenes with a white rabbit, a mere two years prior to his turn as Eddie Valiant. Could it be that his stunning performance here opposite a furry eo-star got him the later, more high profile gig? Any bad points? Sadly, Mona Lisa was unlucky enough to be made slap-bang in the middle of that wholly unnecessary decade , the 1980s. The otherwise radiant Tyson is forced to parade around in a series of wide-shouldered monstrosities while Hoskins is subjected to a montage sequence where he walks down cold streets in a big coat to the sound of Genesis' In Too Deep. Apparently that's what they did for fun back then .
But it's still worth watching? Absolutely. From the acting to the script to the music to Roger Pratt's incandescent cinematography, Mona Lisa deserves to be seen by pretty much everyone. Some may try to dismiss it as a British Taxi Driver, but Travis Bickle never got to say "Contacts George -you can't find plastic spaghetti just anywhere."
11.02.04
day, like , can be seen as merely another excuse for an influx of commercial tackiness, which simply amounts to an exploitation of sentimentality in the guise of the lofty ideal of love. A leader in this field is , surely, Hollywood; quick to trnie a plethora of smulchy, tasteless and blandly formulaic Romantic genre films for the holiday. One doesn 't need to be a completely heartless cynic to see the conceit and general poor quality of such films . Similarly, one doesn 't need such films, or indeed a specially designated festival, to appreciate and celebrate love. Despite this reasoning, films made in the Romantic genre are still invariably guaranteed to be a box office success.
Bran do) is given ten days to treat a patient, who believes himself to be the legendary lover Don Juan Qohnny De pp) before he is sent into a mental institution by the courts after attempting to commit suicide. From the opening shots we are shown the film's central dialectic of fantasy and reality, as we see Don Juan striding incongruously down modern day New York stree ts. Depp, who plays his character with appropriate degrees of stereotyped romanticism and exaggerated sensuality, heightens this contrast, suggesting how the fantas tic can persist in everyday life. Don Juan 's story is narrated in flash back sequences from the psychiatrist's couch. These sequences, with their exotic locations, contrived plots and richly overwrought aesthetic, draw heavily on typical, yet exaggerated, traits from the stock Hollywood Romance and Fantasy genres. They contrast strongly with the
Realism is deemed 'limited and uncreative' by Don Juan, and even as we realise that the world he has constructed is impossible, it is desirable enough to buy into. As John Barth once said "Reality is a nice place to visit, but you wouldn't want to live there" and this statement seems to be the guiding principle of Don juan Demarco, written and directed by Jeremy Leven and made in the nineties when the Romantic fantasy genre was arguably at its height (Romancing the Stone , The Princess Bride e tc . .. ). On the surface, the film runs like a pretty tacky romantic genre film and is easily dismissed as such, yet the slightest closer inquiry reveals that there is a tone of self-conscious parody, which is suggestive of a more int e resting subtext. Arguably made on the very edge of the Hollywood system, by Francis Ford Coppola's Zoetrope Studios, it raises some interesting issues regarding our almost obsessive need for fantasy and escapism, and provides a tacit examination of Hollywood as a machine for the manufacture of films that are successful because they satisfy those very basic desires. On the verge of retire m ent, Psychiatrist Dr John Mickler (Marlon
sequences that are supposedly happening in the real world, which is presented according to some of the c onventions of cinematic realism. As a Psychiatrist, and a man driven by reason and routine, one would expect Mickler's position to be antithetical to Don Juan's; a parallel to the realist/fantasy diale ctic already established and, indeed, at first it seems obvious to him that his patient is delusional. However as Don Juan's story unfolds , true to fairytale
narrative form , Mickler becomes more and more drawn into its fantastical world and gradually comes to believe it himself. Further more , in order to treat Don Juan, Mickler adopts the persona of Don Octavia de Flores , thus feeding his patient 's delusion instead of dissuading it. Inspired by Don Juan's story, Mickler is able to reinvigorate his stagnant relationship with his wife (Faye Dunaway) and to rejuve nate his life which he now sees as being lost to the 'momentum of mediocrity'. In the process he arguably transforms himself into his created alter ego Don Octavia. At the end of the day we, like Mickler, are presented with two possible stories: one is the richly e laborate story of Don Juan Demarco, who has seduced 1502 women before the age of 21, while the other is the more plausible, yet banal, story of a sexually frustrated and insecure youth who has constructed a mental world for himself in order to escape from the strains of reality. Realism is deemed 'limited and uncreative' by Don Juan , and even as we realise that the world he has constructed is impossible , it is desirable enough to buy into. o how do we view the crucial scene in which De pp 's character tells the judge that he realises that he is not Don Juan and is therefore e xonerated? Do we take it as an abrupt reconstitution of reality over romantic artifice or as simply a plot related lie told by Don Juan to escape being committed for insanity? The issue would have been left ambiguous if it were not for the very contrived and cliched denouement that immediately follows, in which Don Juan, Mickler and his wife travel to the island of Eros , where Don Juan finds his true love Dona Ana awaiting him, just as he foretold in his story. The real wcrlc and the fantasy world have combined, their boundaries impossibly blurred. But if the film finally gives in to the romantic idealism that it has been playfully parodying throughout, it a t least does so self-consciously and perhaps with a trace of irony. Mickler's final voice over s uggests this more complex, selfaware tone: •... was she waiting on the beach for all eternity for him? Why not .' If the film remains at times unclear as to whether it is a critique of Romantic fantasy or a celebration of it, it is all the richer for not b eing so easy to pin down. tntimately the film is more intelligent than it seems at first glance; a definite Valentine's Day film, but one that avoids being purely vacuous and conceited.
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08
he bi-annual Literary Festival hosted by the UEA has become an institution and one many of the lecturers and students have been involved in. The first talk of the latest festival was held on the 3rd of this month , with To bias Wolff. As a forerunner to the interviews Concrete and The Event hope to be able to have with the speakers, I spoke to Chris Bigsby about his experiences of the Arthur Miller series he organises which always takes place in the first semester of the year, and his hopes for the forthcoming Centre for the Creative and Performing Arts series which is organised by John Cook. His establishment of and involvement with the festival is obviously something in which he takes much pride, and deservedly so. He is keen to point out that the attraction of the festi-
val is many fold, but that the pull of an association with the many world renowned authors, playwrights and journalists is a strong one. He and John Cook both know a Jot of writers and a list of previous guests including Norman Mailer, Arthur Miller, Alan Aykebourne and Doris Lessing usually secures the acceptance of an invitation. He also cites the 'Jure ' of UEA, plus the fact that publishers now realise that if writers come here they get very large audiences and huge sales at book signings ("This is the prestige event for Waterstones in the country") as part of the recipe for success. "When we first started, when there were visiting writers from e lsewhere in the world, they tended to go on a circuit: London, Manchester, Edinburgh, and they flew over to Dublin and went back to wherever they came from. Now some of them fly over and they do London and UEA, that 's it, and they fly back." On the dynamic of the people
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that attend the talks and readings: "Th e audiences are at least two-thirds not from the University; they come from all over this region and increasingly fur ther a field ... I understand why people don't go, when you're a student you've got Jots of other things to do and you figure 'well we 'll hit these some other time , this is just what happens at university '. It isn't just what happens at university. It 's what happens at UEA and it's unique." We talk about the best and worst moments of past festivals and the most memorable interviews he has conducted. "The one I took most against was Susan Sondheim. I introduced her as an essayist whose essays are studied on quite a lo t of different c ourses here but who also wrote novels. She came on and explained that she was not an essayist who wrote novels but a novelist who also wrote essays. Well, she 'd written a couple of very undistinguished novels in the '60s and I thought I was doing her a kindness by burying them.
"Great moments? I greatly enjoyed Peter Ustinov. It was one of the more difficult ones to get. Some of these are extremely difficult to get and it takes years to work on them." He goes into detail about all manner of trials and tribulations involved with getting the great and good to share an hour of their time with the eager appreciators of this city, including flying the six-feet-seven Arthur Miller and his wife over Club C lass from New York and securing them free reign of the city. However the palaver of negotiating between television pro ductio n companies , secretaries, editors and artists seems always to be worth it. 'The excitement of having Harold Pinter shortly after his cancer operation and hearing him play all the roles that was a fairly magical evening. This was the first university he ever came to, I got him up years ago, he had never gone to a university before and with much trepidation and persuasion came and subsequently we gave him an hon-
"We brought Salman Rush die here. The fa twa had just been declared , this was serious s tuff; and we smuggled him in " She then started reading from and introducing her book and explained that she'd got to page ten of writing it before she realised how truly great it was!" He shrugs at me imitating his reaction to the audience and theirs to him at this point. ile prima donnas re an unfortunate ccasional hi-prodet of an event such s this , the disappointment with the not-so-great guests is far outweighed by the enjoyment afforded by the ones who excel all expectations. 'There have been some real high points , certainly when we brought Salman Rushdie here. The fatwa had just been declared, this was serious stuff; and we smuggled him in. We had Fay Weldon here and I arranged with her that he would app ear part of the way through this. In those days I couldn't tell anyone , I only told the Vice-Chancellor about four hours before that he was coming on campus . We had him back about three more times, each time with security. By the last one we were actually telling people ahead of time that he was coming, it was beginning to ease off but initially the Vice-Chancellor was not best pleased I was smuggling him in." He goes on to say that his behaviour at the time caused 'ructions' and this incident exemplifies Bigsby's dedicated, somewhat gung ho attitude to enticing people to both take part in and attend his series.
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orary degree and he's been back twice." He talks about his changing attitude to the people he invites to take part in the festival admitting a snobbery that excluded anyone not in possession of a Booker or a Nobel Prize. Now he's realised it needs a mix of different kinds of writers including science writers, politicians, journalists, children's writers. "That 's what this series is now about, different kinds of writers , writing by people from different countries, different backgrounds.' He acknowledges that not eve ryone who goes will like everyone who speaks but that that 's the point. "They can make up their own mind about whether they want to buy and read a book, or not. That 's the fun of it. We can introduce them to writers they don 't already know of." Organising an event of such importance is undoubtedly a labour of love . He compares the situation here with that of institutions elsewhere in the world. "No American unive rsity could do it because writers would charge, huge sums of money. The people we bring here who would regularly in America command $25-30,000 come here and I give them a case of wine. They don't come here for the money and any money we do make is ploughed back in [to the university, for both student scholarships and publishing] ." He says of John C ook's currently running series "I'm just going to sit the re and e njoy it."
11.02.04 _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _1!1!!!1_ _ _ _ _ _11!!1!!1!1_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __
............................................................... Features 09
n January 18th it became a century since the birth of a Hollywood legend. Starring opposite the likes of Jtunes Stewart; Marilyn Monroe; Audrey and Katherine Hepburn, Cary Grant was one of the biggest names in cinema, and he began his career in Norwich. In January 1904 Archibald Alexander Leach was born to Elias and Elsie Leach in Bristol, he went on to become Cary Grant, emulated and envied by men the world over, and adored by even more women. Archie was raised by his father when his mother disappeared at the age of ten while he was at school. Elias told his son that Elsie 'would not be long' but Archie was not to see his mother for over twenty years, by which time he was known as Cary Grant, a major celebrity. However, his mother did not leave of her own accord; Elias Leach had his wife committed to a mental institution for rather dubious reasons. One explanation for Grant's inability to maintain a stable marriage is this mistrust of women, forged after the disappearance of his mother. Leach claimed that he first fell in love at the age of nine with "the local butcher's daughter: plump, pretty and, frankly, flirtatious" . However, at this age he had not the self-assurance he appeared to have mastered later in life and found himself to be so distracted while walking past her home that he walked into a lamp post and fell to the ground. He claimed that he never ventured near her home after that as he was so ashamed. During his last years at school, Leach's chemistry teacher invited his student along behind the scenes at the local hippodrome. He soon earned a part-time job and it was here that he first saw Bob Pender's Knockabout Comedians. Archie was so inspired that he wrote to enquire about working with them. The letter he sent was purporting to be from his father; but Elias did not know anything about this until a few days after his son had left. Despite this, Pender was convinced. He had an interview in Norwich at the age of thirteen, and he began performing at the Norwich Hippodrome, which stood on the spot that St. Giles car park now occupies. His father caught up with him in Ipswich. He made Archie return to Bristol on the condition that when he completed school (which, incidentally, was when he was subsequently expelled) he could return to the acrobatic troupe. They took Archie Leach to America and began a tour starting in New York City. However, it wasn't until 1932 that he was to appear in his first fi.lm, This is the Night under the name of Cary Grant. Contrary to popular belief it was not Mae West who "discovered" him. Grant was to be involved in seven films prior to starring with West in She Done Him Wrong, where she famously invited him to "come up and see me some time". The popularity of Cary Grant was no
doubt assisted by his presence in four Hitchcock movies, the first of which was Suspicion, which eo-starred Joan Fontaine, a future Oscar winner. Indeed, these films demonstrate Grant's versatility in his ability. He could play the lover, the well-meaning rogue as well as a screwball comedian, as in Monkey Business or act with sentiment to such a degree that can move audiences to tears, as in Penny Serenade. Many cast Grant off as the essentially suave and sophisticated man, with little diversity of emotion and many of his characters being similar, but this was not the necessarily the case. ome of his most famous films involved a romantic storyline with a beautiful eo-star. Alfred Hitchcock's 7b Catch A Thief saw him attracting the attention of millionaire Grace Kelly, while also having a reputation as a jewel thief. An Affair to Remember was one of the most moving and romantic of Grant's fi.lms. Co-starring Deborah Kerr, it features a playboy millionaire who is engaged to be married when he returns to America and an independent woman equally determined to marry when she gets home. The two meet on a cruise liner back to the States, where they agree that if they are still in love and have resolved their previous connections in six months then it was fated that they should be together. Without ruining a sentimental ending the tale doesn 't exactly go to plan and leaves you willing them to be together and live happily ever after. Even Shirley Temple falls in love with him in The Bachelor and The Bobby Soxer, where she is a student, whose sister he eventually falls in love with. In 1934 Grant also married for the first time. Virginia Cherrill was Charlie Chaplin's eo-star in City Limits. The marriage lasted for seven months. His other marriages_ were almost equally unsuccessful. He married the Woolworth heiress Barbara Hutton (earning their partnership the nickname "Cash and Cary"), actresses Betsy Drake, Dyan Cannon, who was the mother of his only child and Barbara Harris, his last wife , who was nearly fifty years his junior. The marriages were often tempestuous. While with Betsy Drake he became involved in an ISD habit, Dyan Cannon accused him of abuse and Virginia Cherrill acted as Cannon's character witness in his fourth divorce. Grant claimed in his autobiography: "I am not
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proud of my marriage record. It was not the fault of Hollywood, but my own inadequacies, of my own inconsistency; my mistrust of constancy". It is also claimed that, while married to his third wife Betsy Drake, Grant started an affair with Italian actress, Sophia Loren. The two met on the set for the fi.lm The Pride and the Passion in 1957, where Grant plays an English naval officer in Spain. It seems Grant fell in love with Loren and proposed marriage, despite his being already married and her engagement to Carlo Ponti, the man who is still her husband. Indeed, between shooting the Pride and the Passion with her and then returning to America to fi.lm Houseboat, where they had to tie the knot on screen three years later, she had married Ponti. Despite Loren's marriage to Ponti it seems that Grant's third attempt at married life was put under too much strain; he and Drake separated. Many have argued through the years that his marriage record was not only the result of his mother's disappearance, and his affairs, but also due to latent homosexuality. Indeed, the fact that he started his career sharing a home with fellow actor Randolph Scott
has aggravated this theory. In 1980, Chevy Chase made such an assertion on American television. Grant sued for slander and claimed $10m damages. Yet, the ambiguity over his sexuality added to his mystique in a way that has kept many people in awe of him over the years and has not seriously detracted from his popularity. In 1966 and after making seventytwo films, Grant bowed out of cinema. He produced no more films despite being approached for the role of one of the most famous screen lovers, James Bond. He devoted the rest of his life to living in 'reality', enjoying the company of his daughter,Jennifer and working for Faberge. One of the few times he was seen publicly after this point was when he accepted an Academy Award for Life Time Achievement. Despite his popularity, this was the only Oscar that Grant won, even though he had been nominated numerous times. His following today, however, shows how popular and enduring his persona and his fi.lms still are. In 2001 , the Cary Grant memorial statue was unveiled in his birthplace, where Cary Grant fans from around the world flock to have their picture taken with him.
Resident Tutorships Applications for Resident Tutorships for the academic year 2004-2005 are now invited from suitably experienced full-time students and members of staff. Students who will be abroad during 2004-05 should also apply now for appointment in September 2005. In addition, there is a vacancy in Waveney Terrace which is immediately available until 12th June 2004. Resident Tutors play a key role in making new students feel welcome, helping them to settle in and in providing advice and support throughout the year. They help maintain a balance between the rights and interests of individuals and the community of which they are a part. Successful applicants will have good all-round people skills, be good listeners, be able to remain non-judgmental and have a strong sense of responsibility. Experience outside formal education would be an advantage but is not essential.
r particulars are available from the Dean of s,udents' Office Reception or from \un.U\AI, ~ea.a<#.ukldos/intranet (click on to Information for 路 ..;,:~tudents Living in Residences)
10 Features
Features 11
u neral for an Interviewee - It's the night of the NME tour, and each of the four bands has their equipment lined up to do battle. I'm in the band's coach, peering out of windows and watching the queue build and build. The
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remark "that's what I love about thls to:rr, the fact that everybody in their own right can headline". When you don't know about a band, a good place to start is by asking them where they got their name: "I kn ow he's h a d a great influen ce on your musical s tyle, is Elton John's song on 'Gooclhye Yellow Brick Road' where the name for the h a nd origin ated ? " Darren replies "Yeah people in the distance as I assume connections to Elton John but begin to ask the the name comes from the song title on band why they were the album 'Fuck with Fire' by Planes sceptical at first to Mistaken for Stars". Funeral For A on this tour. Friend, like many other bands who Smith (guitarist) have previously done the NME tour, are replies "At first we enjoying rapid success. Kerrang!'s were concerned with recent remark that FFAF are "the hottest the diversity of the new band on the planet" although probands but we viding publicity for the band, also left thought it would be the band feeling it provided unnecesa .great chance to sary pressure. "Iron Maiden recently suppor ted win over audiences who wouldn't usual- you on your t our, how was that ly come to see us d elightful e xpe.r ien ce?" play-" (at this "Yeah we let them close the show, moment Chris, the their band that is definitely going bassist, stops play- places," jokes Darren, "The Iron ing on the Maiden tour was an amazing e.x periPlaystation to ence. We heard horror stories about ..__ _ _ _ _ _ being a support band for Maiden but I think we came off lightly "'trcrouq.no111t the whole tour we pint of larger, three Chups and a IIVI<(!J.J·on•cuals toy thrown at us on
and the infectious beats of the Rapture pounding the LCR, I wasn't sure how the band would go down with the audience. Lead sirtger Matt Davies had stated before the tour started that "There's gonna be a lot of energy and a lot of honest passion," and when the band stepped onstage they made their mark; it was simple, hard hitting and energetic. Darren rounde d off the interview: "The scary realisation for us is that by the time the next NME tour comes round I could be b ack in a 9 to 5 if it all goes tits-up. Being in a band is pretty much the easiest job you'll ever have." Darren, I'm sure it's not as easy as being an EAS student. TomPateman
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n d re, cc or ding to the bill, the support's support. The band that you wouldn't even listen to if they played background music for your queue to the toilet. A month ago, for instance, when they suppor ted Belle and Sebastian in the LCR, I talked through their whole set and then took someone else's word for it that they were rubbish. It is right then, as Franz Ferdinand take to the stage, that they appear to be enjoying the sweet taste of revenge or, more likely still, they're just happy because it's ten past seven and the LCR is rammed; most of the audience probably missed Neighbours to watch them. Judging by their swagger, all impeccably ironed slacks and high cheekbones, it seems that Franz Ferdinand are not intent on behaving like support either. Their opener, Auf asche, sets the tone: Eighties keyboards soon melt away to leave bassist Bob Hardy to start on his oneman mission to stomp like a mastodon. Although you wouldn't know it by their glamorous rock posturing, Nick
admits that they "used to get nervous. After .1 while though, the nerves go and e11phoria takes over." Then, like a glam-rock prophet in making, he adds "once the nerves are gone you just do what ·rou think is right." And what Franz Ferdinand think is right seems to be :nore than good enough for the kids. Predictably, their single, Take me out, causes the biggest ruckus with everyone getting their art-rock groove on. The song's memorable time-change fulfils its purpose by starting an epidemic of pogoing and that's before the crowd have had a chance to get drunk. Tracks from their forthcoming album sound just as strong. Nick e.x plains that they didn't want an album that just hung off a few good singles: "We had nearly twenty songs recorcied but we chose just eleven for the album." jacqueline, the album's opening track is poised yet punky and as tight as their pinstripe shirts. You can tell by the way that they play, gazing off into imaginary sunsets, that Franz Ferdinand are doing what they love to do. When I asked Nick what the best thing about his new :ound pop-stardom was he answered quickly and bluntly: "touring the world." I should have guessed. "It's the most incredible feeling," he adds. As if I'm not jealous enough. Their penultimate tune, Michael , sounds good on the album but in per-
formance it is given an anarchic makeover. Implausibly angular guitars, the unforgiving rhythm section and sluttish vocals gave an impression that Franz Ferdinand were exhilaratingly close to collapse. "Michael you're dancirtg like a beautiful dance whore," Alex shouts. I don't know who Michael is but thls song makes me want to meet him. Ending their se t by chanting in German, "ich heibe super fantastiche," you get the sense that Franz Ferdinand know they are in for a good year. Could all the hype be too much for them? "I'm not worried," Nick laughs, "I'm just excited. Really excited." Rightly so, with 2004's first rock hit-sirtgle under their studded belts thls is the year, according to those who think they know, when the Glasgow four-piece will take over. If they keep playing like they are headlining even when they're bottom of the bill then I don't see why not. You'll be able to hear them perform as genuine headliners in a few months when they return to play the Waterfront as part of their sell-out UK tour.
Out Soon: Franz Fe rdina n d
he roadies stink of weed, but thankfully there aren't any muiets to be seen, and nearby one man was conC:ucting a business call whilst being pushed on a wheelie equipment crate in an empty LCR, and at 2.15 the interview starts. The Rapture arrive slightly late after spending the last night partying. It's the basic thi.n gs they miss, "My wife ... my bed" offers Vito (the drummer of the band) and surprisingly boxing is offered by Mattie (bassist), a sport that he's pursued since he was 14. Vito is the most talkative out of the two that I meet, whilst Mattie tiredly drags on a cigarette with last rughts excesses showing under his eye3. All in all the atmosphere on the tour seems to be a good one, with Vito comparirtg Funeral for a Friend to the bands he grew up with b San Francisco like Unbroken, and, when asked, Mattie uses the term "Hilarity... a lot of laughter" on the :raditional tour debauchery we an secretly hope for, hinted at witn Vito's admission that "It geu a little out of control". Somewhat surreally, the producer that they'd most lil<e to work with is erm ... Tirnberland (he's collaborated with past r'n'b royalty Aaliyah and also Elliot),
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which even though slightly out of place shows that the Rapture were never going to stick to one sound without evolving. On their first EP Mirrors "it was the same name but a pretty different band... it was completely keyboard driven - a lot darker" with the band reacting musically to the situations around them at the time. "Everything that was surrounding us at the time, the circumstances were completely differe nt" with 2 of the band married giving them some added stability. "Big venues are interesting right now as it's still a little newer and prese nts a challenge" concedes Mattie, but the band seem like they're adapting well to the changes and welcoming them as they come. Later that night their influences come through, making you feel that at points you're in a blues house, and that at others you're at a techno do, but still managing to blend them all into a hard-to-define style (like the excessive "punk, funk, house, disco, pop, psychedelic balladry" to be found on their website). Not that they aren't flattered by all the attention that they've received from the British press, but the band are also wary agairtst the rapid hype-typhoon that tends to build up. "It's excessive at times, especially when we didn't even have an album out and we got a lot of press coverage" says Vito on the machine that has contributed to the rise and fall of so many artists (*c o ughcoughAndrew W.Kcoughcough*).
Even so it's better than being labelled "the next worst thing" (Vito) or worse, not receiving any attention at all, of which many great bands are undeservingly set to receive. Like most bands with a long touring past behind them, The Rapture were able to surviv~ without the attention due to the devoted fan base they've accumulated; on their web site, Mattie regularly updates them and Luke (singer/ guitarist) shows genuine affection onstage. The fans have become younger as a result, and the energy a! the shows has increased, for which the band are endearingly grateful and down to earth. In the LCR that night (a welcome change of inhabitants to those the previous night) watching their set, the tiredness and fatigue of the afternoon has worn off and the change is, well, astonishing, playing with ten times more energy than they had that afternoon- their time is coming and they're not stupid enough to fuckit up. Suzeanne Rickenback
dio 1 DJ Zane Lowe recently described the Von Bondies thus: "Two foxy chicks, a human punchbag for a inger, and a wrecking machine on drums, originating from the coolest part of Detroit." He might not be too tactful but Zane's near enough the mark. Coming out of the Detroit garage rock scene about the same time as the White Stripes (who got all the attention, partly because of their snappy threads) their first album, Lack of Communication , was acclaimed, but didn't sell much. Since then they've signed to a major label, Sire records, and recorded a new album, Pawnshoppe Heart, which looks set to lift them out of the stylistic straightjacket the press had put them into. Only thing is, a couple of months ago, after the tour had been announced, singer Jason Stollsteimer was attacked by Jack White, leader of Out Soon: the aforementioned Stripes, irt a Detroit club and was beaten up pretty The Von Bon d ies badly. The incident made the nationPawn Sh opp e Heart al press here and the furore has over(Rep rise, 09102104) shadowed much of the tour, even as the band themselves are getting more e.x posure in their own right. Over the past few years the NME Awards tour has helped launch such disparate bands such as Coldplay, Black Reb el Motorcycle
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Club, the Stereophonics and the Coral into the big time, but surely there's never been a tour as timely for a band as thls one is for the Bondies. So are you ready for the big time? "Well" explains bassist Carrie Smith, "we've never been that kind of band, in that we've never been, like, we need to have a top 40 hit or conque.r Japan. Everything's just kind of happened, grown organically. The album's got a good response and we're just taking it one step at a time." It can happen quite quickly over here though, can't it? You can announce yourselves one week, and be huge the next. Just look at Franz Ferdinand . "But", says Jason, "they know that to go to America, you have to tour for two years before they make a dent. Actually, compared to a lot of our friends, compared to Electric Six (yes, another Detroit band) they came over here once and the next time they were in the charts, whereas we've gone really slow, almost on purpose. The first record was too lo-fi to really sell but we were kind of lucky because we got legitimate fans, not overnight groupies who love the band because we have one song, so we have a fanbase that's been growing and growing. You know, nine out of ten bands that come here, the NME says they're the best band since Nirvana." He stops for a moment. "Except when it's Courtney Love on the cover", he laughs. So what about Sire? They've had the Ramones, Talking Heads and even Madonna on their books in the past, but they've only just started up again.
''They launched it just off of seeing our band!" declares Jason. Really?! "We were the first band that SA'IT1Tim!•r • • Stein (legendary head of Sire) signed in the last fifteen years. He came to see us in Amsterdam, and I asked him why he liked us. He was, like, 'I didn't like your first record at all, but then I saw you guys live and I thought it was amazing. You guys play b etter than you sound on record! ' So that made us want to do the second record with them." "It's tighter" Carrie continues. "It's still the Von Bondies, but our songwriting has blossomed, it's kind of been taken to another level. We hadn't really toured with the first record, so it had a very Detroit feel, this one we toured all over so it has, not so much a different sound, but a different feel." "You know" she adds at one point, "we're not going to start playing Wembley P.l:l..:IArena because that's not what we're about." Maybe not, but I bet they're headlining the LCR before long.
12 Film
his film could well be taken for yet another romantic comedy however, the more serious issue of moral ethics cannot be missed in the jocularity of trading partners with your Mother. Something's Gotta Give is an entertaining saga of the ethics and conventions of dating in the current day as well as giving much hope to the population of single, over SSs that they do not have to "shut up ~hop" just yet. A fitting cast of career-reviving performers play out the sometimes embarrassing, but on the whole, respectable courting couples. Jack Nicholson fits the - perhaps - typecast role of lecherous sugar daddy, Harry, to a tee. He is brilliantly egocentric and repulsively hefty, consuming Viagra like Smarties to keep up with his prin-
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ciples of dating no one over the age of 30 - at the age of 63. He is the owner of a hip-hop record label, has dated the majority of New York's beautiful young women, but does not seem to realise that gravity has set well in and he should really be taking his grandchildren to the park by now. Diane Keaton plays the uptight, and successful playwright, Erica Barry. She is divorced and living in ithe Hamptons, sporting a never-ending wardrobe of crisp white cotton. She is the mother of beautiful Christie's auctioneer, Marin (Amanda Peet) who is one of Harry's under-30 young ladies. The relationship however is not too plausible and, naturally, when they stay with Erica in the Hamptons, circumstances change their course. The in-love and carefree Erica is very uplifting in comparison to the usual restless and woeful young heroine in most films of this genre (though her irritating and unnecessary howling at one point is a bit alarming). It is also heartening that it is not just the old, rich
man who gets the young girl - Keaton's 56 year old character is seduced by the young, flawless and charming Doctor Mercer (Keanu Reeves) who surpasses the talents of her daughter and falls for Erica. Reeves plays a credible doctor who is, surprisingly, not out to save the world in this particular film, but in fact is charismatic, cultured and convincing in his attraction to someone who could easily be his mother. The film takes its time to get where it's going with a bit too much wavering along the way. Some disturbing scenes involving the unprovoked nakedness of Erica and of Harry's backside as well as some close-up kissing from Jack Nicholson, which might make you want to go out for pop-corn. But there are also a good few scenes of humour many involving the heart attacks and supposed heart attacks, ofViagra-poppingHarry. The film explores various questionable partnerships and points out that, with a little nudge through circumstances, (much) older men who date
younger women and (much) younger men who date older women should recover their appropriate composure and such disorders will be resolved into a harmony of traditional coupling almost. You cannot help but feel Nancy Meyers might be slightly dated in her partiality of significant others and their dubious ages. The idea that no amount of mixing should affect the outcome that the old should be together and the young likewise; but the question remains throughout as to whether she will succeed in these efforts. On the whole, it is a heart-warming tale that you might want to come back to in about thirty years when you can relate to it- unless you are a girl attracted to very old men or a boy with a fascination of older women. It is comical, and if you like the actors you won't be disappointed, but it is probably a film more appealing to your parents.
Isabel Dyson
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romising but largely marginalised to date (short-lived as Mel Gibson's side-kick in The Patriot, upstaged by Paul Bettany in the lacklustre A Knight's Tale, and ignored everywhere but his homeland in the delightful Two Hands), Ledger was never going to be handed a better opportunity than Ned Kelly to graduate from eye-candy to mature-actor status. Nevermind a belowaverage budget and the need for the type of transitionary accent that Gangs of New York proved only Daniel Day-Lewis can pull off convincingly - boosted by the indie kudos of director Gregor Jordan, fresh from the acclaimed Buffalo Soldiers, and the interest generated by Peter Carey's recent Booker-prize winning novel, Ned Kelly should have been a no-brainerThe real question, of course, is whether Ledger, and the film itself, manages to live up to this initial promise. And the answer is - sort of. It's never
An unbalanced and confused film, but' still manages some appeal.
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erhaps there should be a new subgenre created for "Love it or Hate it" films. For some reason, Down with Love seems to fall into this category. Set in 1962, Down With Love is the story of author Barbara Novak (Renee Zelwegger), who has written a book that is meant to liberate women. Her absolute opposite is Catcher Block (Ewan McGregor), a playboy man-about-town who writes for a men's magazine. The movie is the long and winding road that tries to get our leads together by the end of the Oick. There is much comedy along the way, and David Hyde Pierce, as Block's friend, helps this very well. Tony Randall (also in the film) often played parts like Hyde Pierce's in the 60's sex comedies. The style is both homage and a satire of the Fifties and Sixties "sex comedies". Everything is, and appears to be, shot on a set or on the back lot of the studio. The New York presented on screen is the squeaky clean city seen in Hollywood
Great concept, pulled-off well, if you like that sort of thing.
bad, and often really quite good. Ledger captures perfectly the essence of Ned at the outset, a tempestuous adolescent without the forbearance to endure the injustices visited upon him and his family. The scenes of his early rebellion are extremely affecting, and largely so due to the sense of panic with which Ledger tempers Ned's determination. Orlando Bloom, emerging from under the twin shadows of a certain moderately successful trilogy and an extraordinarily camp Johnny Depp, turns in his most confident performance yet. The comically virile side of Joe Byrne is never allowed to overshadow the touching loyalty and deference with which he follows Kelly, and although it occasionally wanders close, his appeal is never allowed such free rein as to eclipse that of his eponymous leader. In fact, the relationships within the gang are the film's principal pleasures. Ledger is best when he shows us Kelly at the cusp of maturity: the scene in which he chastises his brothers for their laziness is touchingly drawn, intimating both
the brothers' admiration and Ned's own uneasiness at finding himself perceived as a father figure. This uneasiness is developed nicely as the gang moves towards its inevitable demise, the game spiralling beyond Kelly's control as the forces of law and order close in on what is essentially a group of boys. Herein, however, lies the film's principle problem. While he excels at showing us the transitional figure of Kelly, Ledger never quite convinces as the mature man; the role requires a burgeoning authority which he can't quite muster, this failure rendering the film's second-half a slight anti-climax. This effect of bathos is not entirely attributable to Ledger, of course - the expansive time-scheme and required mixture of genres also prove problematic. Jordan, who gave the smaller-scale Buffalo Soldiers such an acerbic joie de mort, seems intimidated by the scale of his canvas here, rushing us through Ned's various stages of development. All are technically well executed, but the viewer can't quite make the transition - in the
movies, and not anything close to reality. When actors are in cars, it looks as though the filmmakers have used rearprojections for the action around the car. Added to the look of the film, is the comedy itself, including witty dialogue, and farcical situations. It is very similar to the sex comedies while not alienating the modern audience. The cast is really entertaining. Zelwegger is lovable as usual and Ewan McGregor fits into the Rock Hudson-type role very well. Again, Hyde Pierce is very entertaining. While the comedy style is over the top, the actors and director Peyton Reed manage to keep the tone appropriate and funny. Apart from the great cast is the excellent filmmaking in general. Some really fine looking digital work has been created for this pristine New York of the early sixties. Also, the sets are absolutely beautiful. Add the perfect costumes, and you have a feast for the eyes. Down with Love arrives on a 2.35:1, anamorphic transfer. On his commentary track, Reed explains that he was try-
ing to capture the widescreen feel of the Hudson/Day films, so he used 2.35:1 instead of the 1.85:1 aspect ratio usually seen on comedies. The transfer is absolutely lovely. The mentioned CGI cityscapes, the sets and the costumes all add up to a very colourful and bright movie. As for extras, I suppose the pink keep case should be mentioned. That's quite amusing. Also included is a feature-length commentary by Reed. This track is very interesting, because Reed discusses both the visual style of the film, sex comedies in general, and the actors and performances. A blooper reel is included, as well as documentaries about sets and costumes. Footage appearing on televisions in the movie is also included. So if you get the tongue-in-cheek delivery, and the homage/satire, then this Oick is for you. Otherwise, you and the ticket lady can save your money for Indiana ]ones next week.
space of a single scene - from Ned as jovial bank-robber to hardened bushman, numb and picturing himself as at one with the desert which surrounds him.
Most criminally, however, by fumbling to include more than he has time for, Jordan allows himself to lose the perennially excellent Geoffrey Rush in the mix. This reduces a performance that could have provided the film with the strong polarity it requires, between reluctant rebel and increasingly reluctant law-enforcer, to what is essentially an extended cameo. This, combined with a sporadic voice-over and some silly accents, is what finally reveals Ned Kelly's true colours as a work fatally unsure of what it's about. Is it an attempt at a realistic history? If so, the finished product seems simplistic. Or is this an adventure-with-depth? If so, the finished product is rather lacking in fun. Not a disaster by any means, then, but hardly definitive either. AbeDalfies
Daniel Cbandler
11.02.04
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Latin America's Living Langauge ery interestmg fea. ture of the Sainsbury Centre for the Visual Arts s the way in which 1t displays its unique collection of ancient arteacts and works of modern art in tandem. There are very few other galleries where you can look up from scrutinising a two thousand year old African fertility chann and be confronted by a Francis Bacon or Henry Moore. The resulting dialogue between the new and the old confronts the observer with important questions regarding the value we assign to culture and how these values change over time and in different contexts. The new exhibition of modern Latin American art from the prestigious University of Essex collection, now on display in the lower gallery, explores the links between past and present with the same enquiring spirit of reassessment. The exhibition is called 'Latin American Art: Contexts and Accomplices' and sees some of the SCVA's own archaeological Latin American artefacts displayed alongside contemporary pieces of abstract and conceptual art from that continent. There seems to be an emphasis on the line of continuity between modern abstract art and the decorative or religious arts of ancient civilisations, such as the Inca or Nascar (the latter famous for their giant, highly abstracted desert line paintings which are only visible by plane), which is perhaps seen in its purest form in the 26
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countnes, reveals a further, more heavily political context m which to view the exhibitlon. Globalisation sees the exploitatlon of developing world resources, including culture, by the felt tip drawings by Emma Reyes as you first enter the exhibition space. This reverence for the West for purposes of wealth generation, and it is this that many of the pieces in the exhibition past and its respectful incorporation into modem forms fundamentally sets Latin American art seem to be reacting against. For example the apart from European art, which process of cultural exploitation is almost always stresses a break ironically reversed and satirised with the past. by Nadin Ospina in the piece Idol with Doll, which depicts that iconThis break is revealed to be conscious and deliberately ic American figure of Mickey Mouse in the form of a preprovocative when we consider the famous statement by artist Cesar olumbian stone idol. This obviously Paternosto, that abstraction is native impossible re-contextualisation nevertheless succeeds in drawing attention to to the Americas. By saying this he was able to break Modern Latin the issue of cultural appropriation. The context of globalisation American art away from the context of European modern also links this exhibition neatly to the accompanying exhibition in art by finding instead an alterthe upper gallery entitled 'Machu native, vernacular source from which to draw. Any claims to Picchu and the Camera', which seeks to explore the various ways cultural authenticity are howthe iconic ancient Incan city of ever severely questioned by Machu Picchu, located high in the the fact that many of these Peruvian Andes, has been repreartists could no doubt trace their ancestral line back to the Spanish sented throughout the century by that conquistadors and not the native premost modem of devices, the camera. The Columbian populations of the contiexhibition is arranged into roughly three groups of photographs, each housed in a nent. The politics of identity is always a -~'--..._-.._.;..;... partially enclosed structure playfully complex issue. But genetics aside, the modem trend towards reminiscent of the design of Mayan step pyramids or, for that matter, UEA's own ziggurats. an emphatic cultural separation from Western forms in favour of native traditions and heritage, The first group contains the first photowhich is apparent in the arts of many third world graphs of the ruins by the American discoverer
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Hiram Bingham, some of which appeared m a spec1al1ssue of Natlonal Geographic Magazine in 1912. These were the pictures through which Machu Picchu was first showcased to the world, and Bingham was very careful not to choose images that laid too much emphasis on the fact that an indigenous people already occupied the site. Machu Picchu was to be presented as an American discovery. In reaction to this tone of exclusivity, the Peruvian intellectual Martin Chambi turned to the camera as a means of reclaiming the Incan patnmony as his own. However the final series of photographs, which jarringly jump from black and white to colour, are modem day shots by Charles Chadwyk-Healey and Hugh Thomson, which depict the ruins as a tourist trap in which the indigenous figure is present but reduced to the role of a guide. Politics aside however, the pictures are simply gorgeous. Implicit within this exhibition, as with the one it accompanies, is a dialogue between the West and South America, the past and the present, which takes the form of a struggle over cultural heritage. This in turn becomes a metaphor for the wider and more far reaching process of Globalisation, which provides the context not only for the works themselves but also for the very manner in which they are presented to us and for our very act of perceiving them. A number of events are running in conjunctions with the exhibition all of which will be, as usual, free to UEA students. For further information and tickets contact the SCVA on 0 1603 693199 or scva@uea.ac.uk.
Art and Love A look at art's fliration with love over the centuries As we near Valentine's Day, this week's art colunm has taken on a distinctly amorous theme! We take a look at three work's expressing various forms of love and celebrate the legacy and profound influence these masterpieces have had all around the globe. Salvador Dali's Christ of St. John of The Cross 1907-8 stands as a world renowned, striking and emotive representation of Christ as redemption for all humanity, unique in its two part play with perspective and its dual message for the viewer. While it reminds us of the Christian message of Christ's dying to redeem human sin, the fishing boat and net at the base make direct reference to the gospel, that Christians are "to be fishers of men" as a result of God's unconditional love for those that know Him. Dali's striking use of chiaroscuro; light and dark make for a dramatic accentuation of the height and depth of this love and contrast with the landscape earthly normality of the lower
Theatre Review
half of the work. This piece in turn stands out as a dramatic contrast to Dali's more characteristic estranged Surrealist worlds. By contrast to such heavenly ideals, Rodin's The Kiss 1898 was inspired by the writings of Dante's Paolo and Francesca, two adulterous lovers succumbing to their illicit desire for each other. The over lifesize sculpture has been copied many times in bronzes, marbles and clay all over the world and stands admired in the Tale Modern in London and the Musee Rodin in Paris by onlookers today. The painted The Kiss representation by Austrian artist Gustav Klimt, is perhaps more subtle and romantic in its visually decorative style. One of Klimt's most popular works (and visible on the second floor of the UEA library!) this painting exudes a flowery romance brought alive by the bright colours, gold tones , flowers and exuberant clothing of the two lovers. The two are literally wrapped up in their love for one another in a floral, textured and dazzling array of colour and shapes. Klimt definitely succeeds in his representation of inescapable, almost tangible emotion. Have a love-filled February people!
Harriet Brooks
Poetry Review
that divides couples in the audience. The play is frank and unapologetic. It's brutal handling of love, jealousy and passion reveals that when we see something that repels and disgusts us, it is often because we recognise it in ourselves. Joe Trewellard out acted the rest of the cast, playing a character, Larry, that can transform a meeting in a sex chat-room to marriage, while still remaining utterly and disarmingly charming. Seth Sinclair as Dan provided a tragic antihero, the scenes of male sparring and jealousy were played between the two brilliantly, and the shifting dynamics of power were clean and visible. However, whether it was a directorial decision to have Dan as the contrasting tragedy to Larry's comedy or a tone picked up from the script, one got the feeling that his character was under-developed. Having said that, the final scene between Dan and Anna was electrifying. The speech in which Dan discloses that the reason Alice 'chose' to fall in love with him was because he cut off his crusts, when in fact the
crusts had simply fallen off the bread that morning, served precisely the right amount of catharsis for the building tragedy of the play. it seemed one wrong too many for characters that had so cruelly mauled one another, and the triviality of the action compared to its immense consequences was almost too much to bear. Elle ]ones delivered an emotive performance. As Anna she was clean and honest, delivering some lines like little knives. Taniel Yusef's performance as Alice was sassy and subtle making the fragility of Alice 's character all the more stark. The use of space, however, detracted from the claustrophobic and enclosed nature of the play. Instead of everything tangling,like the relationships in the play, the studio left them looking like miniatures on the stage unable to fill the space. Was the use of space supposed to imply that the emotional complexity being explored was in fact far bigger than the four characters in the play? This was left unclear as it was unsubstantiated by any other element of the production. Despite this, the play was well received with spontaneous applause at the close of the first act. Closer is like emotional pornography, something we are uncomfortable watching but can't quite help staring into. This is a decent production of a great play. Hannah Walker
The idea of Lazy Words is simple: anyone can perform anything, as long as it involves words or, at the very least, sounds. The readings were given from the comfort of the plush leather sofas at the Sainsbury Centre. The crowd was smallish but, considering there was half a foot of snow on the ground and most poets, with their romantically bad circulation, were probably hiding under their duvets, it was a good showing. There were songs, poems, anecdotes and monologues. From folksy acoustic guitar twin poetry to a call to arms against the plutocracy: "pour teeth into the petrol tank of a doctor's Landrover - let the noise rattle him mad!" The night had a friendly, intimate atmosphere with no stage and no pecking order; the audience felt free to butt in and the readers were welcome to lose their thread or break down completely. At one point, a reader attempted to use the microphone that was linked up to the art gallery's enormous public address system. This would not be the only poetry event of the week in which I would feel a little bit like I was at a Nuremberg rally.
Make the half-hour trudge to the city worth it by taking some time to look around, look up, and listen. Architecture is an obvious starting point. So public yet completely overlooked. Look out for Norfolk flint work churches, the halftimbered serenity of Upper Saint Giles, and the way the
buildings encircling the market place - The Forum, Saint Peter Mancroft, City Hall and the Guild Hall - combine to create a multilevellandscape of chiming shapes and colours overlooking the chatter and dirty commerce below. Just standing at the junction of London Street and Exchange Street can bring you face to face with Norwich's millennium. Free events occur in tiny venues every night of the week. Try the monthly chamber recitals in
the Assembly House, poetry at The Tea House and Cafe Bar Marzano, gigs in various pubs or organ and choir services at Norwich Cathedral. Whilst there, take in the cloisters. Look up! Hundreds of intricately carved roof bosses including the enigmatic Green Man (pictured) provide graceful and hellish images of the Christian universe. Then, on the way home, stop at the junction of Princes Street and Elm Hill and look for the con-
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Closer, UEA Drama Studio Closer is a play that seeps into your skin and
Lazy Words and Aisle 16 .
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Favourite Book I
Mrs. Da/loway by Virginia Woolf Mrs. Dalloway was a bit of a rite-of-passage for
me. I doubt I'm alone in that, although I never thought it would be the passport to an easy shag - I don't think many of my Blur-wannabe boy friends would have been much impressed. But Mrs. Dalloway certainly persuaded me to apply to study English Literature at university. There's some truth in Zadie Smith's claim that undergraduate English students spend their sixthform years reading the classics because they were never invited to the cinema on Saturday nights. I knew Woolfs work was supposed to be difficult and at first I found it so. Here was a book completely unlike any other I had come across before. Between the covers I encountered for the first time: stream-of-consciousness, multiple perspectives, poetry in prose. The novel seemed to break all kinds of taboos: lesbianism,
Just four days later, I felt a comparable sense of excitement mixed with fear as the despotic Paul MacJoyce, one seventh of 'lo brow beat poets' Aisle 16, screamed Schiller's Ode to Joy to a packed out York Tavern. Happily, this is as far as the Nuremberg analogy goes. All seven members of Aisle 16, fresh from the Edinburgh festival, were in attendance for their homecoming gig: an evening of "raping the dead corpse of pop culture." From mobile phones, art galleries to fish and chips, little escapes their attention. The boys are, by turns, hysterical, sober, bilious and subtle. As if that wasn't enough, MacJoyce later went on to rhyme the Welsh town name, ''Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllilantysiliogogogoch," with "vampires of English robbery still gobble ambitiously for wads of dosh." So, from the airy comfort of the Sainsbury Centre to the sticky, sweaty upstairs at the York, two things have been proven. Firstly, poetry doesn't have to be shite. Secondly, people will go to see poetry if it's good. It is no coincidence that Lazy Words used to be the pomping ground of a number of the Aisle 16 boys. And so the circle of life goes on. Just like Elton John says. ]oe Duntbome
menopause, mental illness. I had found none of this in Dickens or Hardy or Austen, although I love some of their work too. I've never been compelled to read and re-read a novel as many times as I have sat down with my familiar copy of Mrs. Dalloway. Read it once and you will be seduced by the mystery. Twice and you'll be astounded by the pared down prose; the fact that every word counts. Three times and you'll be half-way to being as big a fan as me. Now poor old Virginia seems to be going out of fashion at the moment. I spent an MA seminar last week listening to her character being wrenched apart. The main objection seemed to be that she had failed to stand for all people in all places at all times. Plus an odd (and completely unsubstantiated) claim that she had not been sexually abused but was merely a tease. People can't help but have an opinion on her, whether they've read any of her work or not. If you've been putting it off for years, if you'd like to make up your own mind, if you've not been asked out on a Valentine's date .. .there's a party invite from Mrs Dalloway. Enuna Sweeney
11.02.04
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There is only one band in the world that makes me want to wear leather trousers; prance around like a knob-end; flick the horns like Satan's own air hostess on crystal-meth; and bang an entire coven of lesbian witches whilst shovelling drugs up my bum and tattooing the phrase "Tha' Fuckest Uppest" on my own cock. This band is Monster "mofoing" Magnet. This is a band led by a man so randy, scientists named a gland after him (the Dave Wyndorf gland for those of you who are interested. It's on the pointy end of the tongue.). And bugger me does it show. Wyndorfs voice is the sound of Beelzebub with a stiffy the size of the Watford Gap. Axe-dude Ed Mundel ejaculates a succession of guitar solos that go widdly widdly widdly waaah widdly screech, and were first used by the Great Popes of Population Growth, Led Zeppelin, Aerosmith, Motley Crue and Black Sabbath as a way of undressing people without having to touch them. In terms of rocktacular action, Monster Magnet could give most anyone a run for their money. With riffs your mother could hang her towels on, they show the Darkness up to be the big frilly nonces they are. Stand out track here is the psychedelic widdle-fest There's No Way Out of Here, although, to be fair, there isn't a track on here that is anything less than an unholy, psychedelic, motherfucker of a tune, so it's pretty hard to
Secret Wars Fucking hell! This record is the tits: seriously . . . fucking . . . awesome. Recorded in a hole in the ground, using guitars half inched from a band of marauding tinkers, it sounds as raw and rough as a seriously jaded cycle courie r's ball bag. The shagged out, steam powered organ sounds like it's being hit by an orphaned (i.e. pissed off) speed freak found dribbling into a bag of evo-stik whilst straddling a see-saw and bothering some children trying to play on the swings. The drums, meanwhile are being given a good seeing to by a man who has mastered the art of manipulating the laws of physics in order to facilitate the rocking out of time signatures so revolutionary, that they are still being worked on in underground bunkers in New Mexico (Changes in the City).
This record is arty (kinda like fellow
New Yorkers, Sonic Youth) without turning into a fusty silver puddle of musowank-pearls. Some songs are pretty weird (The Last Act, Every Tim e, $50 Tha) but not in a funny, amusing way ... more in a scary, disturbing, chaotic way. In keeping with most of Oneida's recorded output, there's the token slow, creepy song that sounds like Nick Cave shitting himself (past examples: Ginger, Tennessee . ..) because he's trapped in a lift with Kyuss' evil, slack jawed twins (Wild Horses).
This record is as b eefy as a herd of buffalo, liberally smeared with Marmite. And it's the soundtrack to your worst fucking nightmares. On Acid. You NEED to buy this. Or don't, I don't care.
Richie "Casino" ]ones
Well slap Dot Cotton's arse and call her Janine - this was unexpected!
Whoever's side of the tale you believe about that bar fight, and whether he is indeed a sneaky bastard or not, this is a good 'un.
Homme, James !ha, Eric Erlandson, Twiggy Ramirez - their presence seems to overshadow the album, since you're always subconsciously thinking of someone else, though Would if I could is a brilliantly cool pop song and Head Unbound heralds its own dark excitement. This would be more of a problem if the material itself wasn't up to scratch, but it's mostly all right, if a little shallower than it appears to be on first listen. Hopefully, once she establishes her own individual personality properly, this won't be a factor.
RobLavine
Mass Distraction No regrets hauls you in, and what
might seem like a blur at first play, leaves you stomping and screaming like someone possessed to pawne shoppe heart at the third. I dare you to not to howl along to Mairead's 'took everything and left me for dead' or to the retro-fabulousness of Not that social. The black sheep of Detroit have shown the finger to the city that spawned them and you get the feeling they really don't care. The only down point of the album would be Poison Ivy, which is quickly overcome with tracks like The fever which'll have you screeching 'she don't !mow what she 's talking bout all she does is scream and shouf in no time, or C'mon C'mon. Inevitably this'll be picked up by fashionista's to prove their 'rawk' crede ntials ... and the n we'll get beeped at after mercy when we're coming back from the waterfront - the von bondies don't care, neither should you.
'SPAN; the name conjures up visions of gelatinous meat but the music is all but unpalatable. This debut album from this new Norwegian band of the 'rock/numetal' genre is actually very impressive. The singer (whose name it is impossible to ascertain from the medley of'Bernhoft, Nilsen, Stavnes and Wallumrod' on the back of the case) emulates Steven Tyler, Anthony Kleidis and the lead singer of Vertical Horizon (whatever his name may be) depending on the 'essence' of the song. This combination, however, make s a very definitive sound.
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,
choose. Also good for relieving hangovers, misery and fatigue. Monster Magnet rejoice in their " have a good time all the time" image. As far as calls to arms go, it's pretty infectious. But it's not all intellectually challenged cock rock. .. you can tell by listening to the record that this band have got some real talent and imagination. Whereas bands like the aforementioned Darkness, The Datsuns and the countless other fuckers who have a penchant for all this retro bollocks, love nothing more than wazzing out big riffs and singing about chugging tinnies, rocking generally and humping stuff, Monster Magnet do it intelligently with awesomely creepy ly.rics sparring against almost surgical, yet spacey and psychedelic guitar patterns. The Magnet have also started dipping their toes into the murky underbelly of drum machines, samples and odd noises. Which they use to awesome effect, adding depth and the all important druggy freak outs to the songs. Definately one to dip your wick to. Awwww Yeeeeaaahhhh!
Richie "Phlagm " Jones
If You Lose lt
Franz Ferdinand
Newly departed from the mighty Deep Elm record label and finding home in the increasingly groovy Bad Taste Records, Last Days Of April (a young but prolific Swedish duo) jack up the college-rock togs and leave the emo backpacks to collect dust in the closet with If
They sometimes sing in German, they are art school, and the NME thinks they are more important than the invention of the wheel. It's easy to see why you might have an instant dislike for Franz Ferdinand. There is, however, one small problem: their album - it's good.
You Lose It. Their fifth album in seven years dis-
plays its' influences rather proudly; there's the popular eclecticism of Brendan Benson mixing it with the druggy romance of the Promise Ring's Woodwater, and even the math rock leanings of Joan of Arc and American Football spur here and there. But this is all waxing alt.rock. If You Lose It is a weave of victirnless serenades, lyrical regret and retribution replaced with nostalgic paranoia/voyeurism - more love songs, sure, but deftly handled and composed with an ear for subtlety that eludes many of their contemporaries. It's a creeper with some excellent tunes. Your Anyone is the knock on the door, a broken pre=sor to the end of a relationship, swept away by the lush pop hooks and lyrical resolve of Want 7b Go falling as the dust settles. IfYou is an ace in the pack, nervous but subdued: "If you came with a smile/ If you made it worthwhile! Yo u !mow I'd be the first to say! How much I wan t you, want you to stay." Which is not to
say they've lost the rock of older tracks like Aspirins and Alcohol: Me the Plague and Do For Two still manage to shake the whole affair up with erratic abandon and help stop If You Lose It stalling in it's themes of love won and lost.
Suzeanne Rickenback
Auf der Maur Fashion model, photographer, sometime member of both Hole and the Smashing Pumpkins; it was only a matter of time before Melissa Auf der Maur struck out on her own. Traditionally, with the exception of Sting or Paul McCartney, the bassists' solo careers have been pretty much doomed, mostly due to a lack of charisma (though even those two couldn't claim an abundance). AufDer Maur has an a dvantage because she always sounds like she's enjoying her newfound freedom, playfully declaring "Ooh, love is fun .... care to dance? ' at one point. Unfortunately though, she can't quite shake the 'friend or syndrome. While there is a stellar line up of guests - Josh
The tracks range from one or two moody love songs, like Way they do, to other songs that simply rock out, such as Found and Papa. After only listening to the album a couple of times, as with many albums, the first four or five are amazing tracks that inject a fiery start to the record's beginning, but, as I always try to determine, this is the sort of album to stick on when you are off out to the waterfront for the night or simply when you need to jump around your room for 20 minutes to let off some steam. I think this would appeal to those who enjoy Hoobastank as well as those who would rather 'boogie' to a bit of Perfect Circle or Fuel.
CatherineLUinb
It's not going to change your life but it might make one or two nights that much more comfortable. And you never know, with Valentine's Day coming up it might even get you laid.
At only thirty-eight minutes for eleven songs this record is refreshingly lean, as well-trimmed as their crew cuts. Recorded when they were still trendy and unpopular, it works so well because it does not rely on a couple of hit singles. Not every track is a masterpiece, but there is ple nty of variety and humour to keep your finger away from the skip button. Tracks like This fire and Come on home will get the foot of disaffected youth a' tapping while there is enough post-punk inve ntion on tracks like Michael and 40ft to give the album depth. The opening track, jacqueline , is a good representative of Franz Ferdinand's schizophrenia. Beginning an album with a low-key lament in the story-telling tradition of Arab Strap is certainly brave. The song soon transforms into a stomping air-guitar work-out, a bit like The Strokes if they thought they had to try. This is a very strong debut and, although it doesn't tear up the art-punk rulebook, (if only such a rulebook existed ... ) it manages to be adventurous without becoming pretentious, and catchy without being predictable. Franz Ferdinand will undoubtedly sell too many copies of this record to be cool. But when you're slagging them off for being on Top of the Pops ask yourself this: when was the last time a song with a brilliantly silly time change got into the top three?
foe Dunthorne Matt Sargeson
11.02.04-----------------------------------
Si gles 17
Single Choice
Live Reviews
Kylie
Red Blooded Woman Oh, Kylie. When you put out a single that sounds uncannily like Victoria Beckham's latest attempts at 'bedroom' music, you know it's time for a rethink. "I'm a red-blooded woman, baby" warbles the Antipodean poplet, sounding about as rampantly sexual as a turnip. All this dirty talk is part of Kylie's recent Bardot posturings. Tight polo-neck? Check. Louche, slightly obscene looking French boyfriend? Check. Copy of La Recherche Du Temps Perdu poking from a stripy blazer pocket? Mais, naturallement. But this latest attempt to convince us of her femme fatale credentials falls flatter than a deflated souffle. Does anybody join me in finding Kylie, though infinitely toothsome, strangely sexless? It's not that she isn't foxy, it's just that however much she gyrates, (and she even grinds with what looks like a particularly lascivious Dobermann in the video), she manages still to look effervescently wholesome. She sighs and husks her way through the majority of the tune but then just can't help herseli towards the end. "Lalala", she chirrups, like an over-excited lycra clad budgie. In an aircraft hanger. The video reaches new heights of weirdness. Kyles should stick to electro-pop and leave the sex talk to grown ups, like Serge and Jane.
Rutll Charnock
Crackout -This Is What We Do
Belle and Sebastian - I'm a Cuckoo
The Mars Televators
Within the UK underground, Crackout have managed to become a mainstay along with Capdown and Spunge. Two or three years ago I was tempted to buy some of their stuff, but that was then and this is now. This Is What We Do has a soaring chorus and Crackout are a lot tighter than they were before. The problem is that this is only decent - nothing more and nothing less. A respectable song, with good guitars, but it's predictable and the feeling is that they have established their sound and it hasn't changed or they aren't willing to experiment.
After years of loitering in the bus shelters of indie mediocrity, Belle and Sebastian have finally grasped the nettle, mixed their musical metaphors and sold their souls to the money-wielding devils of Pop. The result is I'm a Cuckoo, a jangly slice of heartbreak-lite with a bawdy brass accompaniment and lyrics so cute they could be used to stuff teddies.
The Mars Volta are the new prog rock, apparently. This means that they don't dress up as wizards, but they do go on a bit sometimes. The biggest reference point in this case seems to be the recent Radiohead stuff, though since their origins lie more in the emo scene (real erne, not that whiny Dashboard stuff) the Voila's stuff is spikier, rockier. That's not to say that it's very commercial. The lyrics are convoluted, made up of what seem at first to be nonsense phrases - something that didn't really change, even on repeated listens. So weird, but really quite good.
Suzanne Rickenback
Gomez: Odd
Gomez - Catch Me Up Suits are tricky things. You can either wear one and be the coolest cat in town, or you can look silly. When Gomez decided to wear pinstripe suits for the publicity for their new single, the word odd springs to mind. A band that have worn the sixties on their sleeve have suddenly grown up. Catch Me Up is a funky tune, but a departure from their torn jeans of the past. Gomez's last single happened to be the best song on the album, but judging by this it is going be hard for them to emulate Bring It On's excellence.
]amesBanks
"I loved you I You know I loved you I It's all over now," they
tremble, and a million Westlife fans go weak at the knees. Have the titans of twee become proper pop stars? Stranger things have happened.
Sarah Edwardes
Rob Lavine
Travis - Love Will Come Through Love Will Come Through is a
Belle and Sebastian: Cute
The Strokes: Taut The Strokes - Reptilia A new Strokes single is less a call to scurvy behaviour, more a discreet alleyway tip-off to lock your bedroom door and break out the Baby Cham. This is Pop Perfection you timid ingrates! Hear the crinklene creak of Hammond Jr.'s 70's Windbreaker as he pulls his guitar near, prizing out those taut metallic hooks; a brew of heady poppers transcending up Jules' angelic nostrils, lubricating his sanguine larynx to urge us: "Please don't slow me down if we 're going too fast I Yeah, you're in strange part of our town" . He preaches
Strokestopia and I'm frankly appalled at CD:UKs unwillingness to listen.
George Michael- Amazing When you consider how embarrassing his recent career has been (the dreadful covers album, the dreadful anti-war song, Shoot the Dog, his friendship with Geri, etc.), it's probably no surprise that George Michael has decided to take a step back for this single. Almost an exact copy of Outside (now five years old), this is a disco tune about the discovery of his sexuality. "I think it's amazing," he croons, but despite the passionate subject matter, the whole thing's disappointingly lifeless, the sell-indulgent lyrics and limp beats making it look as if he's run out of steam, both artistically and commercially.
Volt a
The Eighties Matchbox Bline Disaster - Mister Mental Shite band names aside, I'm slightly biased towards B-line as they hail from the almighty Brighton. Guy McKnight demands your attendance like a demented preacher, and the feeling is that non-believers aren't welcome. Sounding like the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion's crazy younger sibling, the song title more than aptly describes the tune itseli. If you want bland radio-rock this isn't it. Kicking the spineless bands of the world into oblivion, there is no point in resisting. Now if only they'll get huge so the masses can be converted too.
non-cheesy love song, with a gentle melody and the soulful voice of Fran Healy. The acoustic intro builds into a catchy drum beat and easy to pick up lyrics, so you will be singing along. Reminiscent of Mercury Rev's Goddess on a Highway, this single is no disappointment. Not quite as rocky as The Beautiful Occupation or Re-Offender, Love Will Come Through is a welcome return to Travis's indie origins and way better than anything Coldplay or Stereophonics have done.
AmyHewitt
doesn't feel a million miles away from being at a school assembly; the class in session? Intermediate Acousto-rock. A uniform easy listening theme was established with support acts Duke Special and Bic Runga that managed to hold interest without descending into the featureless, languid soft-pop arena courted far too seriously these days. Runga especially (after amassing a cult following amongst UEA students) went down well, performing songs with all the seductive frankness and warmth one has come to expect from you're a-typical New Zealander, not to mention that she's a first class hotty. Aqualung took to the stage to the delirious sound of Pie jesu; a bad sign considering the little-held opinion that Aqualung take their own shit so seriously as to have become pompous, arrogant and, oui monsieur, pretentious. One should not have worried. The human face of Aqualung (Matt Hales) took place behind a mini-grand piano and continued to blur and slow time with a stunning collection of piano led ballads, most of which reside in a dreamy state that urged into the LCR with a nonchalant osmosis. Playing a choice of tracks from debut album Aqualung and recent release Still Life, Hales filled out the intervals between songs with some laid-back raporte with brother Ben, his on-stage musical accompaniment, that added much to the atmosphere; a gentle wit and charm disarming enough to make such tracks as Strange and Beautiful and Brighter Than Sunshine appear less overblown emotional-melodrama, more the heartfelt yearnings of a delicately gifted singer-songwriter. "I met a girl from Egypt in Germany," says Hales before Seven Keys, "Who said the ancient Egyptians believed in two souls throughout the cosmos forever meant for each other. This is a song about that concept." Read that back. Even that schmaltz carried charm that night, and in a seated gig doesn't that mean the battle's won? The winner, in the quiet corner -Aqualung.
Matt Sargeson
Spiritualized, UEA LCR, 27/01/04 Washed in blue light and barely visible through the smoke, Spiritualized took to the stage. Jason Pierce arrived last applauding the audience and took a seat to the side with his guitar and a cup of tea. They started with Electricity, a punchy sonic rock track that ended in squealing white noise and intense strobe lighting. Always ones to bring you back down slow, Electricity morphed into the majestic swirling crescendo of Shine a Light that slowly twisted further into the sound of insanity. Up next was the strung out dirge of Walking with Jesus, an early Spaceman 3 song which sounds like the Velvets taking off into the stratosphere. It was like watching a different band compared to their last UK tour in September, when promoting the stripped down sound of Amazing Grace in smaller more intimate venues. In the LCR Spiritualized showed the audience what they were capable of, showcasing some of the best songs from their back catalogue after the release of The Complete Works Volume 2. One minute we'd be having our souls cleansed by the euphoric wah grooves of I think I'm in Love, then the strobe lights would be back and more intense than before and the wall of sound would rise to dizzying heights. In contrast to previous tours, they incorporated a song from Let It Come Down; the waltzing lament Anything More. The crowd pleaser Come Tbgether united the audience as always and was followed by the soothing melancholy of Broken Heart.
While most songs followed a similar structure to the album versions, Cheapster was a set highlight. Cutting out abruptly in the middle, it descended into a drawn out desolate soundscape of improvised pick scrapes and synth noise for what could have been eternity before returning for the final chorus rock out. Hopefully the young musicians in the audience were taking note of these improvised mind bending noises. Travis: Non-cheesy
----------llllll!l-----------------------11.02.04 The Mighty Atom
RobLavine
Suzeanne Rickenback
Christo McCracken
18
Best
Essential TV
Of the Rest
01 Footballer's Wives Wednesday, 9pm ITV 1 This is, according to The Radio Times one of the top guilty pleasures on 'Tele ' at the moment. The sort of TV you don't want to admit to, but that you enjoy none the less. For those of you who liked it the last time it promises to d e liver m ore of the s ame.
I know what you all think as soon as you read the title of this weeks Essential TV; "Oh God what sort of crap is he trying to p lug this week?" Or perhaps you're thinking: "Well some of the things he 's written about have been okay but they were grown up things this sci-fi crap isn't worth any of my damn important time! " Or maybe you're just thinking: "He's talking to himself, you hold him down I'll go and get the men in white coats!" Any
Stargate SG-1, Sunday 3.40pm Channel4
of these are valid c omments, just give me a few minutes of your time to try and change your mind, although the men in white coats thing migh t not be something I can convince you of. Sci-fi is probably the most degraded of all TV genres. Soaps might be crap but they have their following, Docwnentaries are boring but they have something important to say, sitcoms are pretty much unassailable, and drama can be anything from respectable or bawdy to obviously crap. But through all of this Sci-fi whether crap, or sublime is always labelled by those who don't watch it as bog standard crap. I think that these people lack any imagination and if the population needs to be reduced they should have their names put first on the culling list. That was a joke by the way just in case you were reaching for the phone. No, people who don't like Sci-fi are definitely in the majority but their dislike is almost always based on a lack of interest before the show. It's sci-fi that is the reason for not liking it. I'll be the first to admit that some Sci-fi can b e absolutely crap, bad shows are made in all genres but the fact is some sci-fi is great, you just
have to have a healthy sense of hwnour. One of the se very good shows is Stargate SG-1, it takes off where the film Stargate, left off. You haven't even seen that? It 's g ot Kurt Russell in it! Okay it wasn't the greatest film of all time and it got mixed reviews but it spawned this sci-fi show which is now in its seventh season! That should at least say something for it. "It's in dire need of being put out of its misery?" No. No. No. You're not listening (little voice in my head). It is greatly entertaining and Richard Dean Anderson is in it. Who is he, you may ask, well I shall tell you. He was MacGyver1 I know I know you cannot believe that you have been labeling a TV show crap when the Mac himself was in it. What? You don't really care that Richard Dean is in it, well there is obviously no h ope for you then . For those of you that are begging to see sense I will leave you with this simple yet not necessarily relevant comment. Stargate SG-1 is good fun, and doesn't take itself too seriously, what more could you want from a TV show? Tim Barker
Britain's Best Sitcoms: Open All Hours, Saturday 21st February
02 24 Thursday, 9pm SkyOne 24 has to b e in Be st of the Rest eve n if it isn't on terre strial, fo r those of us without Sky it will eve n tually be s ent into our h omes , but it is just good knowing that there is another series on it's way. Jacks back, as all the posters tell us, and this time it's 'narco - terrorists ' with a weapons gra d e virus that can wipe out c ontinents! As up -beat and fun-filled as eve r then !
This is one of two Ronnie Barker sitcom s in the top ten and it is a testament to his abilities as there is only one other comedian in that occurs in the top ten twice, David Jason who is in this and obviously Only Fools and Horses, but David Jason wasn't as responsible for the creation of his two appearances, he was merely cast in the roles. Ronnie Barker was essential in the production of both Arkwright in Open All Hours and Fletcher in the equally wonderful Porridge . They were both shows that began life with the Two Ronnies, and the pilot series they created Seven of One. It was the writer Ray Clarke (from Last of the Summer Wine) who took the pilot on to become the sitcom that is Open All Hours but the character of Arkwright was fully formed by Ronnie Barker b e fo re th e oth er ch aracters were a dded b y Clarke. The show is a great mix of Ronnies trademark linguistic trickery and some great physical gags, if there is anything more memorable than Arkwrights s tutter it is definitely the monstrous
till.
Now it might seem that Open All Hours' b rilliance lies solely on the shoulders of Ronnie Barker, I have heap ed a smidgen of praise upon him, but David Jason and the rest of the small cast are equally hilarious in their smaller roles, right down to the weird patrons of the shop who wander in buying individual sweets, trying to avoid Arkwright's greedy attentions. The touchingly lost Granville, played by David Jason, is a very funny but also endearing character. His sighs alone carry both laughs and poignance as his life is going nowhere very slowly. This is not the most well known of the top ten, against the likes of One Foot in the Grave, Only Fools and Horses, Blackadder and so on Open All Hours does not spring to mind. That is because it is a very quiet comedy, it d oes what it means to do, for the laughs it gets and then after you've enjoyed half an hour of fun you just switch it off. It's not trying to change the world, just let
everyone laug h for a while and the n slip away in to the b ackground. It probably won't win, but it 's good that such a quiet little sitcom can still be recognised.
Tim Barker
03 Friends Friday, 9prn Channel 4 Yet another new series of big US sitcoms has started it's 'last ' series , joining Sex and the City and Frasier in their final run. For those who have kept up with the last nine seasons, this colossus of US programming continue s , and for fans this will surely be a welcome event. Tim Barker
One Foot In The Grave, Saturday 14th February On e Foot in th e Grave, come dy for your innercrinkly, is one of the less threate ning titles in the fight for the top spot. Following Victor Meldrew's (Richard Wilson) painful existence while e xploring the ins and outs of the late r ye ars of life, the show h as little h ope of bagging the stude nt vote . With largely patient wife Margaret (Anne tte
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Crosbie) in toe, Victor's ever more infuriating brushes with the outside world h ave b een a firm fave amongst ma ny BBC views for years. In fact , b eing a favourite amongst BBC viewers seems to be an essential fe ature for all the top ten. Father Te d , in at number 11 is the highe st reaching non-b eeb sitcom. It s eems strange that the BBC should be the p roud broadcaste rs of whicheve r sitc om eventually wins out, especially whe n Britain's Top Sitcom is also on the b eeb . Arguably the exclusion of any US sitcoms in the list draws the focus away from Channel 4's most p op ular comedy offerings . Jwnping on the 'us vs them' bandwagon, alon g with most of the other top ten e n tries, Victor spends practically all his time at odds with the world. It seems we love to love completely undesirable characters who have no desire to participate properly in the environments which they find themselves. I could reason that this tendency stems from the inner-outcast demons we all find ourselves falling victim to, that can only be exorcised by tv comedy. I won't however, because its probably not the case and even if it was, I don't relish the idea that I bear any similarity to my best-loved sitcom characters. There are, as ever, the obligatory moments of hilarity that everyone has seen hundreds of times. Even those of us who may never have seen an episode can recite Victor's famous exclamation of"! don't believe it" . We 're also all familiar with the sight of a disgruntled Victor trying to
frighten away a spider in his toile t.. .with a Or b an an a. when Victor un witti ng ly hears the phone ringing and accid e n tall y atte mp ts to answer a small puppy he has mistaken for the receiver. You had to be there . It has what is affectionately known as a 'gentle hwnor' , which is often short hand for no hwnor at all. Of course, that doesn't mean it doesn't have one or two good giggles in it and is definitely worth a watch when its on. In fact , the show is like a dramatisation of the Grumpy Old Men series rants. Well written and acted, not to mention being the home of one of the most famous catch-phrases ever, One Foot in the Grave is a classic, just perhaps not the greatest classic. If you do happen to catch it on the box at any time, listen out for the brilliant theme tune by Eric Idle, which is worth the license fee on its own! If the competition was for 'Best Theme Tune' I think I could understand One Foot in the Grave's positing a lot easier.
Kate Bryant
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