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Tuesday, December 7, 2004
Arts Review Editors:Clementine Macmillan-Scott & Sharon Thiruchelvam
Trinity News
ARTS REVIEW Person Trinity
News Recommends FILM Garden State Written and directed by Zach Braff- better know for his role in Scrubs- this quirky, tender coming of age story has been the indie sleeper hit stateside. More than a movie about Generation 80/81 growing up and confronting personal demons; its bizarrely random tender style has earned it comparisons to The Graduate and the films of Wes Scott Anderson. A killer soundtrack doesn’t hurt as well.
MUSIC Gwen Stefani: Love Angel Music Baby The Queen of Californian kooky hip launches her debut album, cynically seen by some as a plug for her clothing range- coincidently of the same name. However, producers such as Dr Dre, Outkast’s Andre 3000 and New Order (?) help to cook up an album of shiny electric sexy pop. As joyfully exuberant as it’s bubblegum chic exterior suggests.
Art House Stand-Off
As the gargantuan UGC expands its repetioire to include art houses films, encroaching on independent cinema territory, the IFI (Irish Film Institute) faces stiff competition. Paddy Bresnihan provokes film-goers to consider their responsibility, urging one to remember that preferably the screen should not be obscured from view by the super size popcorn bucket in one’s lap, and that the pick’ n mix selection does necessarily make a cinema. Since the end of the nineteenth century when that most wonderful of media, the projected image, first appeared to the public, people have been absorbed, shocked and swallowed up by cinema. Like an innocent child watching a magic trick in complete awe gasping astonishment no matter how old we get moving pictures never cease to astound. Books offer an alternative world to disappear into; one inside the mind. Cinema offers a world ready made for the spectator to simply step into, a world more real, more believable, indeed a world that suspends all other reality for its duration. It is an art form to be appreciated, criticised, adored like any other but it offers an audience something more tangible than that. It is the pure escapism that draws so many millions of people to its altar, creates idols of its actors and rituals of its consumption. Once the threshold has been crossed, the ticket ripped and the lights dimmed one is allowed to be absent from all things external. One is allowed to wallow and wander in new places, with new people and new times. But has it changed? Is the cinematic experience the same as it once was? I would hesitate to sadly say: no. Why? Because like all things in today’s society we are faced with more choice, alternatives, distractions. I don’t want to extrapolate on the advantages or disadvantages of this increased ‘choice’ (neither do I want to
extrapolate on why I put ‘choice’ in inverted commas) but it is certainly ever present. Today cinemas have become more than cinemas. It’s not enough to be transported into new universes, one needs food for the journey, and soft drinks, oh, and extra, extra leg room. The cathedrals of entertainment have been infiltrated. Cinemas today have reached new levels in the preliminary rituals surrounding what, presumably, is the main attraction: the film. The huge cinema complexes which have sprouted up all over this country, and others, are the veritable Disney-lands of cinema. Enormous fortresses of entertainment which emanate modern life, shiny angles and brassy logos. The initials U.G.C resonate with power, the brash bully of cinema complexes. Here the cinema-goer is offered all you could possibly want, and more. Like Jack mounting a scaling beanstalk, you are transported by seemingly endless escalators; climbing slowly, the stairs allow one the opportunity to absorb the glistening pristineness of this giant of ‘ultimate cinema experiences’. Once you arrive at your destination it is quite clear that you must have something to eat, and with so much choice how could one fail to find something? Popcorn ranging from huge to even bigger, nachos with semi-foreign toppings, and enough sugar to get you through
the Godfather trilogy in one sitting- it’s showing at screen seven, part of the special event of the trilogy week. Under pressure not to be missing out on what promises to truly fulfil your day at the pictures, you’re strongly encouraged to fully incorporate all of your senses at once: how clever! You manage to get one of the Thursday morning specials and part winningly with your cash and money well spent. Laddened with soon to be empty packaging you turn to face the myriad of doors and gates which promise to finally lead you to the screen. Trudging down one corridor after another, screen four materialises and, perfect, it’s just starting. By the time the ads and trailers are over you’re dying of thirst, your extra large coke was no match for the extra salted popcorn,…you decide to run and get another one, but lose your way after a ticket attendant sent you through the wrong door…never mind, you’re drenched with sweat but you only missed the opening credits. Settled in your seat, feeling isolated because the arm rests aren’t within reach, and your feet don’t touch the ground (but such spacious seating you think at the same time). The film ends, your ears ring as you stumble out of the door, ketchup stains from when you dropped those damn chips, and a sniffle coming on from the air conditioning which made your sweat go cold. How was the film? Ehm…good…I think. You missed the ending because you had to go
EXHIBITION The NutcrackerThe Civic Theatre Going to see the Nutcracker is like entering the pages of Alice in Wonderlandmagical, thrilling and breathlessly exhilarating, Tchaikovsky’s majestic music, eclectic characters and a fairytale setting make this one Christmas tradition not worth missing.
Band-Aid has competitionand its heavyweight. Twenty- one writers including Salman Rushdie, Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Arthur Miller have contributed short stories to an anthology to raise money for the cause of HIV & Aids in Africa. There were no rules for content, merely to not be about the subject of Aids. A socially responsible buy, and a lot less irritating than ‘that’ single.
Trinity News Warns Against CHRISTMAS MOVIES Apart from Bad Santa, which is in grossly spectacular bad taste. Otherwise: Ben Affleck= Christmas Turkey. Compiled by Anna Mostyn- Williams
The IFI, initials which read a bit softer, somewhere you’ve heard of but doesn’t quite shout as loud as the UGC. Tucked away, down some back streets in Temple Bar, understated and quiet, happy to avoid the neon limelight. In today’s terms it almost doesn’t qualify as a cinema: no popcorn, no soft drinks to suck on during the film, where’s the fun? The IFI is a last relic of that, admittedly rose tinted, ideal of cinema. From the minute you enter its arcane doors, and slide down its long corridor you know this is a place where new worlds await. The groundlit walkway stretches down into the heart of the cinema and a still old lounge haloed in smokey blue which promises a pint of expectation before and a pint of perusal after. It rings more like an underground den for pseudo subversives than a cinema; far distant from the blaring UGC which never fails to reiterate its existence as the cinema. There are no distractions here and no uniformed confectionary dealers or announcements of coming attractions. You are here to see a film, and if that’s not what you want then you know where the door is, no one’s counting. The unhurried step to the cinema door, an element of hushed respect seems to pervade, of a collective knowingness that you and the others are about to take part in the same ritual adoration of the screen. The film is projected, with you watching. Two hours to escape. With the reel finished, a slow appreciated dispersal; in patches, as some remain to absorb the last remnants of cinema’s golden glow. Approving nods and smiling eyes greet you as the lights awaken you to the real world. A film experience without the dizzying Disney extras. There is no doubt that both the IFI and the UGC, along with its ilk, provide worthwhile and thoroughly enjoyable cinematic experiences; it all depends on what you’re looking for. But, the next time you want to see a film perhaps you should think twice about which doors you want to enter. I like films and I know where I’m going.
BOOK Telling Tales: A Collection of Short Stories
to the toilet after that second jumbo drink. A true cinema experience, the ultimate in fact…without the film.
Is ‘The Swan’ entertainment? Arabella Kirk ‘The Swan’ is a programme that claims to change lives. Supposedly transforming apparently unhappy American women into confident, vibrant people through physical “enhancement”. Through transforming unhappy to happy, ugly to beautiful A woman who had lost her brother, husband and job in the space of two years, was the subject of this week’s gross synthetic metamorphoses. What is the longterm basis of the kind of help this programme offers? Rather than offering ostensibly neurotic women counselling it instead sadly stops nothing short of exploitation. The women who appear on this show are in need of love, not invasive plastic surgery. Why is a show that revels in humiliating women deemed good television? I don’t particularly consider myself to be a feminist but such extreme makeover shows wakes the dormant Germaine Greer within me. It is fundamentally wrong to tell a woman that the only way that she is going to succeed is to have Botox injected into her forehead.. I believe that anyone who wants to have plastic surgery ought to be allowed to. What I object to is needlessly exploiting another human being for viewing figures. The objective of the show is much the same as any other reality television show; ritual humiliation. This time however, it is not so laughable. If someone is publicly told they have a bad voice they can go on with their lives, if someone however, spends three
months being transformed and then is rejected one wonders at the irreparable harm it would do. The aim of the show is to select the most “successfully transformed” contestant. The contestant who wins goes through to ‘The Swan’ beauty pageant. This show is fundamentally cruel. It manipulates people who have little or no selfesteem into going through months of surgery, crash diets, fitness training and and appearances in their underwear. All for what? To become better people? This to me does not sound like good television. Instead, it is lazy film-making that has nothing to do with informing people or indeed, helping people. It is mindless entertainment and whilst that is fine, encouraging people to believe that they will be transformed by plastic-surgery is not fine. It is wrong and quite simply a lie. What happens when the cameras stop rolling? They still have the problems that were there before, because they were fundamental issues and more serious than what your nose looks like. Perhaps I am being too hard. It is fun entertainment that does nothing but amuse the public. However, I am not sure I agree with that, after all it’s the same argument that a Roman Emperor could well have argued about feeding Christians to the lions. Surely if we are to claim we have progressed at all then our entertainment has to have at least changed partially. Otherwise we cannot claim that anything has moved on at all. In the end there are far worse things to do to another human being, but encouraging peo-
ple to think that skin deep is all that matters and if you have that then the rest will follow is cruel and a lie. People have to change from the inside otherwise they haven’t
changed the only thing that is different is their nose. That ultimately is not change that is just covering up the problem.
Fruit wills itself from tree! The Beta Band have finished their last ever tour after a decision to split owing to lack of commerical success. They went out with a bang. “The Beta Band apple has over ripened and become riddled with maggots, it must fall from the tree and let its seeds return to ground.” Richard Greentree (harmonica, drums) ”Sadly, eight years of hard work and critical acclaim but little return in terms of commercial success inevitably takes its toll and a group decision was made to finally lay the band to rest." Band Statement “Look, we’re a million quid in debt and my phone has been disconnected.” Steve Mason (guitar & vocals) Steve Mason, Richard Greentree, John MacLean (keyboard & decks) and Robin Jones (bass) instantly gained a loyal and effusive following with their compilatory debut album, ‘The Three EPs’. Yet, since then and despite the accumulation of widespread sincere critical enthusiasm and the cultivation of a legendary reputation live, The Beta Band has dismantled itself. In view of having been credited by Radiohead as the core influence for albums Amnesia and Kid A during their self-proclaimed ‘Beta Band Phase’ and having been namedropped by admirer John Cusack in High Fidelity, they are all the more spited by commercial frustration. The group has paid severely for an initially irreverent approach to the music press: contrarily panning their debut album before its release and cultivating a reputation for intimidating testiness and as purveyors of soul-freezing stares. They admit that pandering to the press may have proven helpful especially given corporate radio’s reluctance to play experimental music, presuming ‘that people won’t get it or, if they do hear it, will start running out raping and pillaging!’ The Beta Band’s magic is evident in they magic they play upon music reviewers, stirring their repressed creativity, resolving them into poets out of music reviewers, moving them to quirky metaphor: ‘They're like kids in a musical toyshop… revelling in playful experimentation with sound texture and... capturing and crafting to melody wacky sounds that would otherwise fly about but … Their songs are akin to an aural flea market, with labyrinthine alleys replete with stalls of disparate genres…Remember that kid in college who claimed to be able to manufacture hallucinogens out of common household cleaners? The Beta Band is sort of his musical equivalent.’
Their intent to break up was formally declared with a statement in May 2004 and dates for a now completed final European tour, which included a show at the Ambassador in Dublin on 2nd December. The genre warping quality of their work is even more evident live, at the Ambassador show, with fleeting sounds borrowed from funk, gospel, hip-hop. Indie, blues and the Forbidden Planet theme tune merged to coherent melody. Their sound surrealism was performed with their usual eclectic palate of musical objects: samples, scattershot drum breaks, whistles 'n' bells, heavy bass, bongos, xylophone, melodica, tambourines, two drum sets, five guitars creamed off with Steve Mason’s vocal chords stylings, plaintive mantra and occasional rap. The Beta Band have as many ideas as sound sources which elucidates their decision to break up: the desire to pursue side-projects which had hitherto been cultivated alongside the development of the music: short films, visuals for performance, album sleeves, DJing and the production of Flower Press magazine. All four members desire to continue working in multi-media arts. Steve and Richard continue to work on their solo albums and John who directed most of the band’s videos and Robin who wrote and directed the videos for ‘Assessment’ and ‘Out-Side’ from their last album Heroes to Zeros, will continue their work in film as well as music. Perhaps the leisurely collective music making process they enjoy is too time-consuming, it dictates their music’s eclectic melted montage quality as each of the four members, with a demo of song bones in hand, retreat to their ‘respective caves and sit hunched over computers and whittle away… each do a version of the song… go absolutely crazy!’ Then they reconvene, compare and compose. They recorded most of their songs live, with their idiosyncratic John Cage like Foundmusic or Outsider-music approach – sampling feet banging on tables and barking dog, seagull and orchestral samples. None of them claim to be proficient in any one instrument and during live shows they sometimes jump and rotate themselves around instruments, at some points with four of them playing two drum sets, one member to each back and front. Richard Greentree puts their attitude to live shows well: ‘I just love the sheer heroic angle where it's do or die every night - if you stop playing there's no sound anymore.’