Ruby Wednesday

In six days time, next Wednesday, my parents will celebrate their Ruby Wedding Anniversary. It absolutely blows my mind that such a thing is happening. Not because they have a horrible marriage and it's a miracle they stayed together. Quite the opposite. My mind is more blown by the fact I'm old enough for their to be such a landmark in my parents lives. Wait that sounds selfish.

Anyway, as they retired and moved to Spain in 1995, I am flying out on Sunday to spend 5 days with them to mark the occasion. Five days of hanging out with the parents in 95 degrees sunny sunshine, lounging around their pool drinking cocktails. I canNOT wait. For their gift, I got them a red iPod Nano. See, they're often making long car journeys and love to listen audiobooks when they're on said journeys (at least once a year, they drive over to the UK which takes several days). So I got the iPod and an in car adaptor for them so they no longer have to juggle a bazillion CDs in the car, they can just load up as much music and books as they want and away they go. I got it engraved and I set it up last night, naming it Ruby and loading a compilation album of songs from 1969 on there for them.

My flight is on Sunday at the ungodly hour of 6:25am. Gross. I have an insane plan on how to get to the airport on time for that. Once it's all done and I'm back in dear old Blighty, I'll update fully with pictures and a proper explanation of the plan (if it works. If it's a disaster, I'll pretend it never happened).

There is no Salvation

I'm not sure why I let myself get caught up in the hoopla for the release of Terminator Salvation. Somehow, during all the promotional activities for it, the trailers, the posters, the leaked Christian Bale rant, I managed to overlook one crucial factor: McG. He's an absolutely atrocious director, with a reverse Midas touch. So why, WHY did I ever fool myself into thinking that his take on Terminator would be any good?

It's not. It's not gouge my eyes out terrible like his Charlie's Angels movies, but it is not terribly good either. It isn't interesting to look at as it's all so flat and dull, nor was it interesting to watch. There were obvious clumsy edits where scenes had been removed wholesale too, and the whole thing did feel truncated, especially at the rushed and fumbled ending. McG doesn't bother to give us anything even approaching character development, presumably thinking that as the two main characters have featured in earlier installments, it wasn't necessary. Wrong-o. Anton Yelchin as a teenage Kyle Reese does a bang up job with the flimsy material he's given though. Christian Bale is very good too, of course. Sam Worthington struggles as Marcus Wright, wrestling with the accent as well as with a character that demands a subtlety and nuance that McG is incapable of extracting out of anybody.

Speaking of Marcus Wright, I have a question. In the film itself, it goes to great lengths to conceal his true identity and much ballyhoo is made around its eventual reveal. So why, then, is the same reveal in the trailer? Who the fuck authorised that? Having not really succeeded in telling the story very well, McG gives up not long after said reveal and the film collapses into a mess of incoherence and head scratching events that he doesn't bother to explain. The appearance of a naked Arnie-bot with Action Man genitalia was just one of those moments. A truly thundering disappointment in what has been, for the most part, a summer of disappointments. Sigh.

Naked Farmer for June 2009

I realise that I say this every month but I really can't believe how fast this year is going, nor that I have lost such interest in my life and thus in this blog. I'm attempting to bring back my joie de vivre though, so watch this space.

Acoustically Attracted To Sin

So the Tori gig was last night. Here's the set list (courtesy of Undented):

* Famous Blue Raincoat
* Lady In Blue
* Curtain Call
* Crucify
* bodyguard improv > Leather
* Maybe California
* Taxi Ride
* Mary Jane
* Jackie’s Strength
* Wednesday
* Welcome To England
* Cool On Your Island
* Silent All These Years
* Barons of Suburbia

Encore

* Over The Rainbow
* Putting The Damage On

Since the audience, for once, seemed to respect the no photography rule (there was a flurry of flashes at the final bow, but otherwise pretty much nothing), I was not that disrespectful asshat who took pics anyway and so I stole a pic from Getty Images instead


It was, without a doubt, the best I've ever seen her. And I never thought she'd top the 2005 concert when she was joined by the gospel choir. But she did. her cover of "Famous Blue Raincoat" is one of my absolute favourite tracks of hers and I could not believe it when she opened with it. When "It's 4 in the morning, the end of December" rang out, every hair on my body stood up. And they pretty much stayed that way for the next 90 minutes. The new material sounds so much better live and stripped down than the album tracks I've heard so far. The old songs were so much stronger, so much more vibrant than I've heard them before. The best example of that was "Wednesday", which was slightly slowed down and so much more playful than previous live renditions.

Vocally, she's never sounded better. Whatever ailed her two weeks ago and caused the postponement was obviously entirely cured. There wasn't much talking to the audience, I'm guessing it's because the second she opened her mouth, some idiots started yelling song requests at her. My dislike for her rabid fans continues unabated, it seems. I'm interested to see what the full tour with band turns out like, but at the same time, if I don't get a ticket for the tour, it'll be ok. The memory of this incredible concert is enough to keep me going until the next time.

Naked Farmer for May 2009

What better way to celebrate Star Wars Day than with a naked man in wellies?

The first silver lining of 2009

On May 18th, Tori Amos releases her 10th studio album, Abnormally Attracted To Sin. It's being accompanied by a world tour this summer, with Ms Amos once again accompanied by her band. On April 1st it was announced she would play a one of solo gig at the Savoy Theatre in London on April 27th. Tickets went on sale and it sold out in 15 minutes. I did not get a ticket.

On the 27th April, it was announced that for the first time in her 20 year career, she was postponing the gig due to illness. Rescheduled for 11th May, original tickets remain valid. I thought "what the hell" and called the ticket line to see if the the rescheduled date had caused anybody to return tickets. They had ONE TICKET LEFT! So PCB does get to go to the ball after all.

I've been seeing her live since 1994 and have seen every tour at least once and pretty much every one off gig since 1998 (I missed the "evening with Tori Amos" to promote Tales of a Librarian as I was out of the country at the time, but that was 90% interview anyway). Solo is my preferred way of seeing her and since she's stated that she'll never do a tour in a solo capacity again as it's "too boring", I'm gonna have to take what I can get in this regard. All I know is I've been ridiculously happy since getting my ticket earlier, so yay!

2009: The gift that keeps on giving

Wow it is truly amazing how much fun fun fun 2009 is turning out to be.

Remember how I lost my bid for Canadian residency? Leaving aside the fact my cunty law firm reneged on their 100% money back guarantee, leaving me no option but to file a leal claim with the credit card company I paid with, but I was left with a fairly hefty chunk of savings I no longer needed (one of the criteria of acceptance was having minimum $11 grand in savings). What did I do with this money? Something sensible like clear my remaining debt? Of course not. I blew every last penny on a holiday of a lifetime for myself and my dear crazy roommate. Upper Class flights with Virgin Atlantic, a week in San Fran then a week in Vegas in plush hotels. Awesome. Except of course, her health went absolutely bat shit crazy about a minute after booking everything and hasn't recovered to a point where she's able to travel, so the trip is off. If insurance won't pay out (we both have separate policies), then I've essentially thrown away £4000. Brilliant.

Also, I joined the gym again to get the weight off. I was tired of eating nothing in a bid to lose weight, so I struck a deal with myself to eat in moderation and to haul my fat ass to the gym every other day. After several false starts, I had finally settled into a 45 minute cardio routine that I enjoyed doing and felt great afterwards (not to mention, I have never seen myself sweat quite so much as I did), then I would swim and get in the steam room and by the time all that was done, I felt so fantastic. I started going in the morning before work (and I am not a morning person) as the gym is so much quieter at 6:45am. People were starting to notice my weight loss, I was feeling better in myself and best of all, I hadn't had to massively alter my eating habits. Go me. And then at the end of March, mid way through the cardio, my right knee got a little twingy. My left knee has always been unhappy since the ligaments snapped when I was 19, causing a floating fracture of the kneecap. But that sorted itself out and a knee support worn during all gym activity has meant it's never been an issue. By that evening though, my right knee feels like it's swallowed a secret burning thread. It's periodic in its burning now. It's been ok(ish) for a few days but right now it feels like someone is holding a poker to the side of my kneecap. I have not been back to the gym since. Yay.

It's not just me having a shit time though. I have two cousins, one of whom split up with her boyfriend and has had to move back home, she now can't afford to move back out as she's working reduced hours with a pay cut thanks to the recession. My other cousin and his girlfriend both lost their jobs when the American company they work for closed down their UK division entirely. A friend at work is currently enduring the slow, painful and increasingly acrimonious collapse of her marriage. The crazy roommate's health issues have already been mentioned, but in more detail, the reason we can't go on holiday is she's become hyper allergic to pretty much everything. Specifically, chemical smells like deodrant, perfume, paint, air freshener, etc cause her to swell up, go bright red, overheat and generally feel like she's dying. Also, she's become allergic to practically all food except chicken, brown rice and green vegetables. Fun. The crowning glory has to go to a colleague at work who spent a day in hospital last week with a suspected mini stroke. He's 26. When he recovered from all the symptoms and was discharged, he went out at the weekend to celebrate not being dead. Where he was promptly run over in a hit and run accident and is in hospital with, among other things, a shattered pelvis. It's currently touch and go whether he'll walk again. Which really puts things in perspective, doesn't it?

Naked Farmer for April 2009

It's a week late, but I keep losing interest in everything, including my blog. Which is a shame since this month's farmer is very pretty.

RIP Andy Hallett

Now this is very sad. At the age of 33, slightly younger than this blogger, Andy Hallett has died of heart failure. He had been fighting heart disease for five years and he lost that battle on Sunday night.

He will always be best known as Lorne on Angel and he was frequently the best thing about many episodes. He was also my most favourite character in the show. I had no idea he was even ill, so to read of his passing this morning was a very unpleasant surprise.

PCB's Quarterly Theatre round up

I have seen several shows this year already and not blogged about them so I thought I'd split it into quarters, since we're almost into April.

Twelfth Night

The first Shakespeare of the Donmar's West End season and it was greeted with reviews slightly more muted than those that greeted the season opener, Ivanov. Only slightly though, and given the flat out raves that greeted said production, I think Night can hold its head up high.

I have to say, I flat out loved it. I have seen it before of course, at the Donmar's off-West End home as part of Sam Mendes' farewell shows. It must be somewhat galling for him to see the same theatre produce a better cast, infinitely warmer and richer, not to mention much much funnier version. Derek Jacobi is of course incredible as Malvolio, but there's not a weak link in the cast. I was surprised by Indira Varma, who was just glorious, showing a comic timing I was not expecting of her. However, in my opinion, the show was stolen by Zubin Varla's singing, percussive, cartwheeling performance. He was outstanding and yet he was barely mentioned in any of the reviews. WhatEVER!

Be Near Me

The actual Donmar Warehouse is easily my favourite theatre in the world. Not only is it the most gorgeous space but they have produced some of the most compelling shows around in the last decade. To usher in 2009 with this is something of an oddity. An adaptation of Andrew O'Hagan's book (which I found too dull to bother finishing) about a gay priest and the friendship he strikes up with two wayward teens which inevitably goes awry, it doesn't immediately scream "stage me!"

However, in the hands of Ian McDiarmid, who adapts as well as stars in the lead role of Father David, and John Tiffany, who directs, they turn what could have been a dull, predictable and preachy couple of hours into a fluidly directed, beautifully acted and heart rendingly tender play. Special mention to Richard Madden as Mark, the teenaged catalyst for Anderton's downfall, who was, I thought, fabulous. And I'm not just saying it because he's pretty. He will, I'm sure, go on to have quite a career.

Private Lives

The Hampstead Theatre staged this revival to mark their 50th anniversary, as its premiere there was their first big success. Normally I wouldn't have bothered with this but heading the cast as Amanda was Claire Price, for whom I would walk over broken glass to see on stage. I had never laid eyes on her before November of last year when I saw her in a revival of The White Devil and I was absolutely transfixed.

The ticket was a birthday present from a good friend who came along for the show too and it was wonderful. Funny, stylish, very well directed and acted (tellingly, a dialogue free moment between the two sparring lovers managed to evoke laughs from the audience), it was a frothy delight and the new Hampstead Theatre is absolutely gorgeous to boot.

Duet For One

A two hander about a celebrated concert violinist struck down in her prime by multiple sclerosis starts regular visits to a psychiatrist to help her overcome the shock and to readjust to her life without being able to play. Doesn't sound fun does it? And indeed, it's not, though I found it riveting from start to finish.

The violinist is played by Juliet Stevenson, initially stoic and good humoured about the rotten hand life has suddenly dealt her. Henry Goodman takes on the psychiatrist role with a cod Jewish accent (necessary since it's referenced in the text) who slowly chips away at her bravado exterior. There is a great deal of humour in the early scenes that gives way to anger and then of course there's the breakthrough. Or in this case, breakdown. Has everyone here seen Truly Madly Deeply? Specifically the opening weepathon from Ms Stevenson to her psychiatrist? Well, she had a similar scene at the end of Act One here, as she bewails having to listen to godwawful students and her lesser talented husband all day and she can't play herself. It's an absolutely devastating moment that left the audience somewhat shellshocked for the interval. That Act Two's big breakthrough came without any emotion, but a calm and collected delivery of her revelatory monologue was something of a relief. This is about to transfer for a limited run and for Stevenson alone, it's worth seeing.

Little Shop Of Horrors

Having missed the Menier run and its West End transfer, I caught the tour of Little Shop when it came to my neck of the woods. Damian Humbley (who made a magnificent Jamie in the Menier's production of Last Five Years) was again top notch as Seymour. Clive Rowe was a full throated Audrey II and Alex Ferns was surprisingly brilliant as Orin Scrivello, returning to play all the agents vying for Seymour's attention in "The Meek Shall Inherit". The urchins were also fantastic singers, though their acting was a little, uh, amateurish.

But that is where the plaudits have to end. Claire Buckfield was not a good Audrey, lacking the vocal power to effectively transition in "Suddenly, Seymour" (her mic was just turned up really loud instead). Sylvester McCoy was hopelessly adrift as Mr Mushnik. Shame. I still enjoyed the camp ridiculousness of it all and I will never tire of a majority of the show's songs, but I was left with the nagging feeling that this could have been better.

A Little Night Music

I was initially resistant to the idea of seeing this show, due to the casting. I can't tolerate Maureen Lipman and Hannah Waddingham can be very hit and miss. But then the reviews were through the roof amazing, and I figured "what the hell?"

Well how happy am I that I threw caution to the wind and got a ticket as it was the most glorious three hours I've spent in a theatre. The cast were all exceptional (with the exception of Jessie Buckley who was woefully out of her depth as Anne) and this production mined more comedy out of the script than anybody would have thought possible. I loved it, I laughed, I was moved to tears and since seeing it, I have been unable to stop listening to the cast recording featuring Judi Dench as Desiree. It's a little telling that on that recording, Joanna Riding plays Anne and her excited squeal of "it's at a chateau!" at the start of "A Weekend In The Country" packs more character info than Jessie Buckley manages over an entire performance. It has now started its West End transfer and I will be seeing it again, at least once, hopefully more.

A View From The Bridge

I love me some Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio. I think she's massively underrated and never really had the high profile career she deserves. She shows up on the London stage every now and again (she was splendid in the Donmar's revival of Grand Hotel in 2004-2005) and she's back, with Ken Stott and Hayley Atwell in Arthur Miller's tragedy.

One asks, did Miller really ever write anything but? It's not as though you could play The Crucible or Death of a Salesman for laughs, is it? And Bridge is hardly brimming with feelgood charm and in a little over two hours, manages to bring the audience, dooby doo down down. It's supremely well acted, if a little clunkily staged and directed, and though set in the 50's, the themes of the play are still relevant to today, in some ways. While it's not something you could ever say was entertaining, it was definitely worthwhile viewing.

Three Days Of Rain

An actor's play if ever there was one. A three hander where Act One is set in the present day and Act Two has the actors playing their character's parents from Act One, it requires two completely different performances from each of them. In the hands of James McAvoy, Nigel Harman and Lyndsey Marshall, that element is a qualified success.

As is, in my opinion, the play itself. I never really got the sense that the pay off was worthy of the build up. It was all very beautiful and very subtle but I don't know, I just wanted more. Walker Janeway and his sister meet in an abandoned New York loft after the death of their renowned architect father. They're joined by childhood friend Theo and the settling of the estate and a discovery of a journal, which Walker finds maddening in its brevity causes things to unravel, particularly when he focuses on the entry that is merely the play's title and nothing more.

Act Two reveals what happened during the titular three days and the most striking volte face, performance wise, is McAvoy. Walker is hyperactive, slightly crazy, possibly gay and very angry. Walker's father Ned is shy, quiet and has a stutter. The fallout of the three days is something only the audience can appreciate as we know what their kids think happened, so witnessing the actuality is very bittersweet. Richard Greenberg is a very good playwright and this structure is a fascinating idea but it clips the bullseye rather than going dead centre.

Plague Over England

What a weird play. Written by a critic, for the love of God. Ostensibly about John Gielgud and his arrest for cottaging when he was at the height of his fame, it also tries to cram in about 5 other storylines with the majority of the cast playing multiple roles to add to the confusion.

It's very rushed, as people come bustling on, say about nine words and then it's the next scene. At one point, two scenes play out simultaneously for no good reason. The extremely odd and hallucinatory ending fails to tie everything up satisfactorily. How this was a good idea that deserved a West End run, I cannot fathom.

Waiting For Godot

And speaking of things I cannot fathom, Samuel Beckett. I've somehow gone 34 years without ever watching a Beckett play and in all honesty, if this one hadn't starred Ian McKellen and Patrick Stewart, I would easily have made it many more years without seeing a Beckett play.

I don't get it. I don't get him and I certainly don't get how precious he and now his estate are over the staging of his plays (you have to sign a contract stipulating you won't deviate one iota from the text and the stage directions). Godot was two and a half hours of blank nonsense that in less talented hands would have been a disaster. That McKellen and Stewart, along with Simon Callow in full on Brian Blessed mode and Ronald Pickup, made this even slightly entertaining is testament to their inordinate talent. Currently on a pre-West End tour, it's playing to capacity houses of rapturous audiences but I very much doubt ANYONE was cheering the choice of material.


Already booked in for the next three months:

New Boy with Nicholas Hoult
The Fever with Claire Higgins
Madame De Sade with Judi Dench, Rosamund Pike, Frances Barber and Deborah Findlay
Dimetos with Jonathan Pryce and Anne Reid
A Doll's House with Gillian Anderson, Christopher Ecclestone, Toby Stephens and Tara Fitzgerald.

Hot Guy Monday: Tahmoh Penikett

Since last Friday marked not only the end of Battlestar Galactica but also Dollhouse finally kicking into high gear, today's hot guy is Helo himself, Tahmoh Penikett.

Battlestar is one of the finest shows to have graced television in recent times. Buried on the Sci Fi Channel and dismissed by a lot of people, it transcended the genre with some impeccable writing, direction and performances (James Callis' performance as Baltar is quite possibly the most finely rendered and perfectly pitched piece of acting as to have ever been on television). The last ever episode was not perfect but it was absolutely astonishing all the same and I was moved to tears on more than one occasion (to come back to Callis again, his "I know about farming" line gutted me like a fish). Now that it's over, I want to watch it all again.

As for Dollhouse, five weeks of tonal uncertainty and poor plotting finally gave way to a multitude of twists and turns that was insanely exciting and ensured I'll watch the show to the end of the season. Plus, Tahmoh was shirtless a lot.

RIP Natasha Richardson

You know how sometimes you hear a news report about a celebrity injury and think "oh they'll get better"? The reports about Richardson's skiing accident were so inconsistent that throughout the two days I kept expecting her to appear on TV and say "oh for heaven's sake people, I'm fine!"

But no. She died last night and it's so shocking and sad. She was young, she was fiercely talented and she leaves behind a grieving husband and two teenage sons. I saw her on stage twice (once in Closer, once in Streetcar) but the role for which she will always be remembered is Sally Bowles in the Broadway revival of Cabaret. I didn't get to see her in the role (she'd left the production the weekend before my first ever trip to NYC), I have the cast recording and her performance of the songs on there is so new, so unexpected and to be quite honest, so pitch perfect that to have just her take on the title number as her sole legacy would be a huge achievement.

However, it's just one entry in a distinguished career and it really underlines how tragic her early unexpected death is. In addition to the talent, Richardson also possessed something sadly lacking in a lot of today's stars: class. She was supremely classy and I've never forgotten how sweet and funny she was at the stage door for Closer, even with fans more interested in talking to her about her husband. She will be missed.

Hot Guy Monday: Returning with............

Something a little left of centre. I've been watching and enjoying the new Fox show Lie To Me, and it's given me a new TV boyfriend. Brendan Hines. He's adorable on the show and he's just plain gorgeous to look at too. But the main selling point? His hair. Sweet Christ I just love his hair. It's the kind of unruly mop that he probably hates but it gives me full on Hair Envy. Feast your eyes:

PCB is now 34

So I hit 34 years of age on Monday. I'm really not sure how that happened. Isn't there a saying about how life is what happens when you're looking the other way? I do really feel like my life is being lived without me at the moment. Wow, 2009 is really shaping up to be a champion year isn't it?

In all seriousness, since the Canadian debacle, I have been doing a lot of soul searching about what I really want to do with my life and where I want to go and I am in the process of making some really tough decisions. The first decision is to move back to London. That's made, but the logistics, the finances and many other little obstacles need to be ironed out and overcome, so it's a good thing I won't be going for at least another 10 months. Thanks to the recession, there is not a great deal of point in going any sooner anyway as there are no jobs to go to up there. There possibly won't be in 10 months time, so we'll have to see.

Since the Canadian decision, I haven't really been sleeping properly either. I've been waking up around 5am every single morning and been unable to get back to sleep. Hence I'm writing this entry at 6:40am. Fun. I need to do something about this though as it's really starting to get to me and I lost my temper with a co-worker yesterday as I was just too tired to keep my annoyance in check. Ooops.

Since I don't want my blog to become a complete downer, I'll try and make the next entries more fun, promise.

Naked Farmer for March 2009

I've been massively neglectful of my blog since the start of 2009. I just don't feel like I'm doing stuff interesting enough to blog about. Or maybe it's that I am doing interesting stuff, I just can't muster the energy to blog about it. I've been very blue since the whole Canada farrago and with a birthday on the horizon to remind me I ain't getting any younger, I've apparently descended into a state of bleh. So here's some naked farmer to take my mind off it.

The 2009 disappointments continue

Though on a smaller scale than being denied my Canadian Visa. So far:

Friday 13th.

Yes, I know it seems unlikely that I would be disappointed over this remake. But I am. See, Marcus Nispel directed the Texas Chainsaw remake, which I loved and was terrified by. So I had high hopes that he would take the reins of this franchise reboot and deliver another nerve jangling treat. No such luck. I love love love the original so for me, alarm bells began to ring when a horribly edited opening credits sequence showed a Crystal Lake camp counsellor offing Mrs Vorhees right after she's given all the exposition required. Everybody knows the true joy of the original is Betsy Palmer's delicious turn as the batshit crazy mother of Jason when she's revealed as the killer. I can't believe they didn't get someone like Jessica Lange to ham it up as the deranged slasher this time around. For shame.

So anyway, it fast forwards to the present day and after a bunch of nobodys get offed by Jason, the action swings to another bunch of worthless cretins you will recognise from TV shows past and present as well as films with (for God's sake) Shia LaBoeuf. The great thing is, Nispel and the writers make the rookie mistake of having each of them be vastly irritating to the point where you're actively rooting for Jason to kill them, just so you don't have to listen to them anymore. Jared Padalecki is the hero of the piece, the loner outsider searching for his missing sister (she was one of the nobodys in the first bunch and because she looks a little bit like his mother, Jason has not killed her, he's keeping her in the basement. Whatthefuckever.) So when the people you don't care about have all been picked off in a variety of bloody ways (usually after they've had sex or been unnecessarily naked, of course), we're left with Padalecki and his sister to bring down Jason.

There is not one single good thing about this film. Not one. The writing is terrible, the acting embarrassing, the direction ham fisted. There's no sense of menace, there's no sense of horror or fear, it even fumbles the cheap shock, make you jump moments. It is, in a word, shit. And what is so frustrating is it could have been fantastic. In more capable hands, this could have been the horror franchise reboot the fans have been waiting for. But no, instead it's an unholy mess and I just hope the sequel baiting ending doesn't come to pass.

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

Yeah, make that The Tedious Case and you have a title closer to my opinion of the movie. Wow it was long and boring. I genuinely don't understand the hype and awards buzz around this one. It was pleasant enough to watch but it was kind of like a Chinese takeaway. I didn't really notice it at the time and I'd forgotten it about 20 minutes later. I wanted to love it as I love Cate Blanchett, I love Tilda Swinton and who doesn't love Brad? But it left me cold and it left me more than a little bored too. And I found the Katrina framing of the piece very heavy handed. Shame.

Heroes

It is becoming more and more apparent that the writers and creators of this show didn't expect to be a hit and therefore never thought beyond their first season. The second, strike interrupted, season was hated by pretty much everyone and the efforts to atone for that in the third season saw the show become increasingly fractured, misguided, overstuffed and underwhelming. The third season has two books, the first book, "Villains" failed on just about every level and if you want evidence, check out the two part episode "The Eclipse" which was trumpeted as a key and important episode but was instead everyone wandering around without powers for two episodes while absolutely nothing happened.

Book Four, "Fugitives", is only two episodes in and I already hate it. There are still too many characters splitting the focus and not enough of them are interesting enough for me to care about anymore (in fact, only the extended Petrelli family in the main storyline are worth bothering with). The ONLY thing worth watching the show for now is Sylar and his increasingly fascinating arc. It's like his scenes wandered in from a different show altogether, the level of writing and acting in them is so far removed from the dross of the rest of the show.

TV Remote (lack of) Control

I blogged before about how discovering the joy of downloading TV shows and being able to hook up my laptop to the huge TV in the lounge has freed me from the tyranny of the UK scheduling, where everything is on a Thursday at 9pm, or a Sunday at 10pm. Apparently no other time slots exist. Even so, I'm watching a whole hell of a lot of shows right now. From the earlier TV post, some shows have fallen by the wayside but I've picked up several others. The current schedule looks like this:

Sunday

United States Of Tara

Monday

24
Big Bang Theory
Chuck
The Closer
Heroes
Gossip Girl
Medium
Trust Me

Tuesday

The Mentalist
Nip/Tuck
Rescue Me (starting March 10th)
Reaper (starting March 17th)

Wednesday

Damages
Lie To Me
Lost

Thursday

Bones
Supernatural
Ugly Betty

Friday

Battlestar Galactica
Dollhouse (starting February 13th)

For those keeping count, by the time the three shows yet to start are running, I'll be juggling some 21 shows. Not sure I wholly agree with EW that TV's recent golden age is over just yet.

Naked Farmer for February 2009

Wow it's already February. And since 2009 got off to such a sucky suckass beginning and it is currently snowing fit to beat the band, here's a little something to bring the sunshine in.

Oh good, 2009 sucks too!

Less than one month into 2009 and it's sucking harder than 2008. How is this possible? Well, see, early last year I filed an application for permanent residency in Canada. It takes years to process so I didn't bother mentioning it on here as it wasn't terribly interesting at the time. In November of 2008, the Canadian government changed how many professions were eligible to file for the permanent residency visa, reducing it from hundreds to just 38. Mine was not one of the remaining 38, so when the government then retroactively applied the change to all applications filed in 2008, mine was rejected.

Cocksucker motherfucker. And of course, despite the fact I have it in writing that if my application is unsuccessful, my law firm would return all my legal fees unless I lied on the application, I am not being refunded. I'm currently pointing out to them it's not terribly fair to withhold my refund under these circumstances and they are of course ignoring me. Sigh. So now I need a whole new B plan, which I will begin to formulate after I'm done licking my wounds.

Winner!

2008 wasn't a brilliant year for me in many ways, not least of them cinematic. I didn't even bother with a top ten last year I found it so uninspiring. And when a film arrives on the crest of the critically adoring wave only to be from a director I don't think has delivered a watchable film since 1995, then my overwhelming response is "meh".

So I'm really glad that Slumdog Millionaire was so completely wonderful. It did not put a foot wrong for its whole 120 minute running time. It was wonderfully written, it was superbly acted and it was pretty flawlessly directed. The viewer is drawn in to a story that is by turns funny, sad, dramatic, stomach churning, heartbreaking, nailbiting and of course uplifting. It's colourful, it's loud, it's kinetic, it has a killer soundtrack and if you're not wrestling with a lump in your throat (or indeed blubbing like the homo you are, PCB) over the inspired Bollywood end credits, then you have no soul. Slumdog has kicked off 2009 in fine style as the best film I've seen in quite some time. Here's hoping it's just the tip of the iceberg.

Naked Farmer: The 2009 Return

So this year, my secret Santa bought to me another naked people calendar. This time, it's firemen. There was a website noted on the calendar, so I though "fantastic! I can do the same thing I did last year, only with firemen instead of farmers". Now, there's a sentence. But, I went to the website, only to find it doesn't exist. The farmers, though, are far more organised. So here it is. The naked farmer for January 2009. Enjoy.

People, is this any way to start a new year?

So last night, for reasons I still can't quite work out, I went to the roadshow presentation of Che. The cinema just down the road from me was showing it, in its 4 hour 17 minute glory. The start time was listed at 6:45pm, so I figured it would be done by 11pm and I'd be home not long after.

Wrong-o. There was 20 minutes of pointless faff at the beginning and a 25 minute interval between the two parts so the whole thing took five hours from start to finish. The irony is it was only ever good and watchable (admittedly with an insanely amazing performance from Benicio Del Toro), it never really tipped over into being great. Oh well.

I forget, every time I go to this cinema that, as it's the local "arthouse" cinema, the level of pretentious film snob conversations I overhear tend to make me want to kick people. When I saw La Vie En Rose there, for example, I overheard someone saying "yah yah, well of course Charles did see Edith perform in Paris." Oh fuck off. Last night's little gem was someone commenting to their friend that the last time they'd seen a film here it was Terrence Malick's A New World. He then spent a few minutes waxing rhapsodic about Malick and how wonderful Thin Red Line and New World are before saying "I mean, I find it really challenging to stay awake during them, but they're so amazing". I had to really fight the urge to tap him on the shoulder and say "when a film bores you into unconsciousness, I don't think you really think they're good, do you?"