Month: October 2009

Leave a comment Posted on films

My Neighbour Totoro

If you’re not all warm inside after watching this – call an ambulance! In fact, I’d better do it for you, because you’re probably dead.

The films of Hayao Miyazaki are pure imagination painted on screen. Full of warmth and madness, they stay with you long after watching.

I honestly don’t know whether it’s because Japanese storytelling conventions are very different from ours, or whether it’s just cos they’re bonkers, but when wacky insanity happens in Japanese films, the characters tend to just accept it and get on with the story. Soot gremlins in the loft? Well of course there are. A big furry monster at the bottom of the garden? Mmm, lets snuggle on his tummy. It makes for a dreamlike experience, imagination unfettered by the need for logic or rationality. My kind of world.

Whenever I watch a Studio Ghibli film I feel like I’ve been hugged by a mad but beloved auntie with a nutty story to tell. (Apart from Grave of the Fireflies which will harsh your vibe for a week. Seriously.)

And of course, the animation is spectacular. I found this compilation of clips from Princess Mononoke, Spirited Away, Laputa, Kiki’s Delivery Service, Howl’s Moving Castle and Nausicaa. Ignore the music and feast your eyes on the visuals. Don’t you want to visit some of these places? Be aware it’s not just empty spectacle. You’ll be dazzled, but you’ll care.

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Local Hero

I love this film so much. I have seen it many, many times and it never fails to charm and delight me. It has an air of quiet melancholy, and the ending is on the bitter side of bittersweet, but it’s very funny, and very moving. The beauty of the landscape and the earthy eccentricity of the locals contrasting wiith brashness of the American interlopers makes for a comedy of culture clash, and yes, lessons are learned and people change, but it never veers into sentimentality or cliche.

There is a yearning for a better, simpler life running through the story, a yearning I respond to. And the music is beautiful and the ending makes me cry and “Are there two G’s in bugger off?”.

Featuring a cast which includes a young Peter Capaldi and an old Burt Lancaster, the performances are pitch-perfect, and the script is witty and humane. I love it. Oh, just watch it, willya? I just watched the above clip and I’m already a li’l bit emotional…

Here’s what happens when director Bill Forsythe, who also wrote and directed the equally funny and almost as affecting Gregory’s Girl, is reunited with the town of Pennan 25 years after shooting wrapped. It turns out Mark Kermode has seen the film more times than me. I would never have pegged him as a fan.

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Metarie

This is one of a select few songs that have an inexplicable and unavoidable effect on me: it makes me cry for no reason whatsoever. It doesn’t matter where I am, what I’m doing or what mood I’m in, by the second verse I have to turn and look stoically into the middle distance and have a manly lip wobble. The Whole of the Moon by The Waterboys does the same thing, and that’s a big, bombastic happy epic romp of a tune. So why does it make me blub like a toddler who’s accidentally swallowed hs favourite bt of lego? Couldn’t tell you. But if you decide to play this video, turn the sound down so I can’t hear it, there’s a love.

Leave a comment Posted on tiny tales

Friday’s Short Story

storytellerWill and George stood at the doorway, peering in to Brian’s bedroom.

“Brian! We’re off out. Sure you don’t want to come?” asked Will.

Brian just lay on his bed. The curtains were drawn. Something sad by Sigur Ros burbled away on the stereo.

“Pathetic,” said Will.

“Oh come on. It hit him hard,” said George. “She stole his heart.”

“And that’s why he’s not coming out? The big puff.” said Will.

“Look at him. He can’t come out like that, can he?” said George.

Will shrugged, unimpressed.

“She really took his heart.” said George.

“So now’s the time he should be out and about. Meeting new people. Having a flirt.” said Will. “He’s a lovely feller when he’s not moping around with a big cavity above his left nipple.”

“Yeah, but a gaping chest wound like that, it’s going to distract from his personality, no matter how winning.” said George.

Brian just lay there, immobile, with a big hole where he used to have ventricles and an aorta and all that useful stuff. Sigur Ros got incomprehensibly yet stirringly anthemic in the background.

“It is a massive wound, yeah, but… you know, this music won’t be helping. What is this shit?” said Will. “He should put some Newton Faulkner on. I wonder what she did with it. His heart, I mean.”

“Ate it, probably.” said George. “What? How do I know what she did with it? Wrapped it in foil and put it in her box of memories? Threw it out? Filled it with helium and carried it bobbing behind her like some grisly wet party balloon? Who knows?”

“So. He’s not coming out then.” said Will. “The big puff.” he reiterated.

“Not tonight,” said George. “Still, time heals all wounds. Give him a couple of days, he’ll be fine.” he added, philosophically.

They looked at the exit wound once more. It was crusted with dried blood and black cakey bits.

“Maybe a week.”

They left him to it.

******
Brian Isn’t Coming Out by Harris
more tiny tales

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Architect Sketch – Monty Python

Why I like this sketch: it’s ramshackle. From Graham Chapman’s (presumably booze-related) line flubbing, to Eric Idle’s building prop not working properly (watch his right hand at around the 3.30 mark), it’s the rough edges which give Python a lot of its charm for me. Plus you get a great John Cleese tantrum and I learned the word “sedentary” from this sketch. It’s edutainment.

I also like it cos it’s funny, and cos I think a lot of buildings could be improved by the addition of rotating knives.

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Weekend

Goodness! It’s been the kind of weekend that weekends were invented for. Full of music and unexpected invitations and art and nature and suggits ice cream and nice people and sunshine and Futureheads and good food and old friends and Field Music and free booze. Lots of free booze. So hoorah for all that. I’m pooped.

All that was missing was… ah well, I can’t do anything about that. Oh, and maybe a band with big, strange eyes having a lovely singalong. I can do something about that at least…