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Issue: 131
Art Fashion Film Music Television
Children’s Illustrator Satoshi Kitamura Inside... Nine Black Alps Clive James 3-Iron
Contents Features
Centre  Spread
Satoshi  Kitamura  10  &  11
TV Â 4
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Film  5 ,JN ,J %VL 8F UBLF B MPPL BU UIF DBSFFS PG UIF ,PSFBO BVUFVS
Music  7 /JOF #MBDL "MQT 5IF CBOE DBVTJOH BMM UIF GVTT QMBZ UIF 8BUFSGSPOU
Reviews
Art  9
TV Â 14
Fashion  12  &  13
Art  15
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Film  16  &  17
Regulars
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Creative  Writing  8 Listings  6 Horoscopes  8
Music  18  &  19
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Event The
Hello Once  again,  paper  that  could  have  been  used  for  such  eloquent  and  insightful  comments  on  the  issues  so  artfully  addressed  by  the  en- suing  pages,  is  instead  simply Â ďŹ lled  with  my  well  meaning  but  badly  put  ramblings.  There  is  a  valuable  lesson  in  this  -  you  should  be  reading  those  pages  right  now.  However,  this  section  will  get  better.  As  anyone  who  has  ever  had  to  balance  their  uni  work  with  any  oth- er  commitment  will  know,  it’s  bloody  hard  to  do  sometimes,  and  a  fortnight  gets  shorter  and  shorter.  At  least,  from  everyone  working  on  The  Event’s  point  of  view  it  gets  shorter  -  I  know  it  may  feel  like Â
Editor-in-chief               4BSBI &EXBSEFT a  long  time  before  you  get  to  see  those  lovely  piles  of  papers  fresh  from  the  printers,  crisp  and  ready  to  be  cracked  open.  All  that  is  left  to  be  done  is  to  thank  everyone  who  has  worked  on  this  issue,  and  there  are  certainly  a  lot  of  you!  Feel  smug  -  you  de- serve  it!
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Competitions WIN  BROTHERS  IN  ARMS  EARNED  IN  BLOOD™  ON  XBOX With  its  unprecedented  combination  of  authenticity,  compel- ling  story  and  squad-Âbased  action,  the  Brothers  in  Arms  Road  to  Hill  30™  has  established  itself  as  a  benchmark  for  military  action  games.  Brothers  in  Arms  Earned  in  Blood™  adds  new  features  and  game  modes  and  builds  upon  the  elements  that  made  Brothers  in  Arms  Road  to  Hill  30™  a  runaway  success. *G ZPV XBOU UP HFU ZPVS NJUT PO POF PG UIF mWF DPQJFT PG #SPUIFST JO "SNT &BSOFE JO #MPPE— XF WF HPU UP HJWF BXBZ TFOE VT ZPVS BOTXFS UP UIJT RVFTUJPO 8IBU DPVOUSZ JT #SPUIFST JO "SNT &BSOFE JO #MPPE— TFU JO " 'SBODF # #SJUBJO $ 4VOOZ #FSNVEB
Editor ,BUF #SZBOU Deputy  Editor "OOB 4UFXBSE Art  Editor                                     3PBOOB #POE Contributors:  Ben  Baruch,  Sam  Webber,  Lily  Hall,  Melanie  Spencer,  Charlene  Price
Fashion  Editors  -BVSB $PCC ,BUISZO 8FTU Contributors:  Elley  Taylor,  Mel  Jones
Film  Editor  4FCBTUJBO .BOMFZ Contributors:  Dean  Bowman,  Mike  Cumes,  Andy  Judson,  Natasha  Kundaiker,  Richard  Boakes,  Â
Music  Editor  $IBSMFT 3VNTFZ Contributors:  Kelvin  Knight,  Tom  Souter,  Rob  Simpson,  Alex  Kaldwell,  Chris  Hyde,  George  Wyndham
TV  Editor  $ISJT )ZEF Contributors:  Becky  Rutt,  Rebecca  Hunt,  Kim  Dyer
Creative  Writing  Editor      .FSJOOF 8IJUUPO Contributors:  Jonathon  Tosch,  Ben  Woods,  Anna  Steward
Listings  Editor                 'JPOB #JMMJOHT
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icture  the  scene:  you Â ďŹ nd  yourself  awake  at  eight  in  the  morning  thanks  only  to  that  nine  o’clock  seminar  scheduled  by  administration  solely  to  aggravate  hangovers.   After  decid- ing  to  ease  your  way  into  the  dull,  winter  day  by  watching  some  harmless  television,  you  hear  the  resounding  laughter  of  the  studio  audience  on  one  of  the  numerous,  indistin- guishable  American  sitcoms  paraded  on  Channel  4  at  this  unpleasant  time  of  day.   Yet  another  stressed  punchline,  as  hideously  inane  as  the  last,  rolls  out  of  the  script,  greeted  with  further  auditory  mirth.   All  across  Norwich,  while  nursing  mugs  of  tea,  we  humble,  yet  ever  so  cynical  students  lament  the  concept  of  the  laughter  track,  put  to  such  dismal  use  in  disguising  the  mediocre  comedic  stylings  of  consist- ently  uninventive  writers.   So,  being  inquisitive,  a  little  reluctant  to  do  the  work  that  is  actually  pressing  upon  our  slumber,  we Â ďŹ nd  ourselves  questioning  whether,  in  all  truth,  there  is  a  positive  purpose  to  load- ing  shows  with  the  merriment  of  strangers. Posing  this  question  of  whether  laughter  tracks  should  ever  be  on  television,  in  the  form  of  a  studio  audience  or  as  the  infamous  “canned  laughterâ€?,  can  often  result  in  a  determined  positive  answer.   The  reasons  for  such  decisiveness?   As  they  say,  laughter  is  conta- gious.   Hearing  the  studio  react  to  a  gag  can,  for  whatever  reason,  trigger  the  same  response  in  us.   There  are,  it  seems,  shows  that  simply  suit  the  laughter  track.   After  all,  it  is  difďŹ cult  to  think  of  an  episode  of  Friends  sans  imposed  chuckle.   Yet  this  is  not  quite  the  issue  at  hand.   True,  there  appears  to  be  a  place  in  comedy  for  this  attribute,  but  is  its  presence  due  to  the  poor  quality  of  writing,  or  of  the  industry  as  a  whole?   For  instance,  picture  the  group  of  writers Â ďŹ ne-Âtuning  their  script  and  coming  to  page  6’s  below-Âpar  joke  that  nobody  can  seem  to Â ďŹ x.  After  kicking  about  a  few  ideas  the  decision  is  made,  a  little  too  easily,  to  get  the  can-Âopener  and  plug  the  void  with  the  whooping  guffaws  of  an  audience.   Even  if,  against  all  expecta- tions,  it  just  so  happens  that  said  joke  does  bring  about  the  laughter  of  the  studio  viewers  without  the  need  for  its  canned  counterpart,  one  cannot  help  believing  that,  thanks  to  this  televisual  quirk,  another  half-Âassed  piece  of  writing  has  slipped  through  the  quality-Âcontrol  net.   Here  we  are,  yet  again,  being  told  when  to  laugh,  and  why?   Sim- ply  because,  in  a  large  portion  of  cases,  you  will  not  be  compelled  to  by  the  script  alone. This  overpowering  presence  does  not,  however,  have  to  be  a  negative  and  could  be  quite  the  opposite.   The  writers  of  the  type  of  comedy  performed  in  front  of  an  audience,  instead  of  pasting Â
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liven  a  stagnant  scene.   Surely,  then,  it  is  quite  normal  to  question  why  exactly  The  Flintstones,  a  beloved  show  the  world  over,  found  itself  throwing  added  laughter  into  its  cartoon  melting  pot.   Animat- ed  programmes,  many  would  heatedly  contest,  can  surely  have  no  place  for  canned  laughter.   There  can,  of  course,  be  no  impression  that  we  are  watching  something  acted  out  live  in  front  of  an  audi- ence  and  there  is  something  quite  disconcerting  about  the  pretence  that  we  are.   In  fact,  it  becomes  more  difďŹ cult  to  become  immersed  in  a  cartoon  riddled  with  this  unusual  dose  of  reality.   How  exactly  this  was  considered  a  wise  step  in  furthering  the  show’s  quality  is  hard  to  tell,  and  so  we  can  only  speculate.   Perhaps  it  was  believed  that,  without  the  laughter  track,  older  viewers  would  dismiss  the  show  as  something  purely  for  children.   This  way,  and  maybe  only  in  this  way,  could  the  “adultâ€?  cartoon  be  born,  paving  the  way  for  the  likes  of  The  Simpsons,  free  from  the  restraints  of  needing  the  same  means  to  prove  its  status  as  something  beyond  a  kid’s  show. That  the  decision  to  include  laughter  on  The  Flintstones  might  have  been  because  of  the  need  for  this  distinction  suggests  that  it  is  not  solely  a  quality  concern  and  that  genre  has  as  much  effect.   It  would  largely  be  agreed  that,  despite  the  inclusion  of  a  laugh- ter  track,  I’m  Alan  Partridge  remains  one  of  the  nation’s  favourite  comedies.   This  could  most  certainly  keep  an  audience  splitting  their  sides  without  the  infectious  laughter  of  others,  yet  it  persists  in  pursuing  Alan’s  outrageous  habits  with  that  very  device.   Quite  needless,  it  seems,  but  not  so  out  of  place. In  a  similar  vein  we  might  look  at  another  type  of  comedy  -  for  instance,  The  OfďŹ ce.   Being  a  mockumentary  series,  the  effect  would  be  tainted  no  end  by  the  insertion  of  canned  laughter.   The  show,  as  anyone  in  Britain  who  has  ever  seen  a  television  would  be Â
aware,  was  a  huge  hit  because  it  was  a  perfectly  pitched  comedy  and,  as  much  as  a  chortling  audience  would  have  ruined  the  illu- sion,  it  would  have  shattered  the  subtlety  of  its Â ďŹ nest  moments.   Move  onto,  its  counterpart  overseas,  the  indefensibly  poor  The  Of-Â ďŹ ce:  An  American  Workplace  (which  managed  only  to  take  a  formula  of  undeniable  success  and  bastardise  it  in  the  most  offensive  fash- ion  to  the  eyeballs  of  viewers  everywhere)  and  we  have  a  debate  on  our  hands  as  to  whether  the  laughter  track  could  actually  save  any  comedy.   Like  its  British  predecessor,  its  style  would  be  destroyed  by  disturbing  the  scenes  with  laughter,  but,  as  subtlety  appears  to  have  been  swiftly  discarded  when  writing  began,  the  hootings  of  an  audience  may  have  actually  helped  produce  the  required  response  in  the  viewer.   After  all,  a  laughter  track’s  duty,  it  seems,  is  both  to  tell  people  that  a  joke  has  been  and  gone  and  to  provoke  in  them  the  same  reaction. So  we  bring  ourselves  to  accept  that  the  most  overt  and  least  witty  of  jokes  can  bring  us  to  smile  as  we  watch  another  repeated  episode  of  Friends.   The  laughter  has  set  a  tone;Íž  it  sounds  as  if  we  are  in  for  a  fun  half-Âhour,  so  why  not  sit  back  and  accept  the  fact  that,  while  the  writing  lacks  a  deft  skill  present  in  the  sharper  shows  we  like  to  admit  to  enjoying,  there  is  something  (shall  we  say,  at  a  push)  acceptable  about  such  lacklustre  comedy  writing.   Perhaps  it  is  at  the  detriment  of  an  industry,  of  the  intellect  of  humanity,  but  sometimes  it  can  be  too  readily  forgotten  that  our  close  friend,  the  TV,  is  indeed  there  for  entertainment.   There  is  room  in  the  comic  world  for  the  smarts  of  The  OfďŹ ce,  but  when  we  are  bleary-Âeyed  and  tender,  we  should  let  ourselves  in  for  something  just  that  little  too  obvious,  propelled  into  our  lives  with  the  added  audible  delight  of  other  unassuming  viewers.
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he  Cinema  of  South  Korea  has  deservedly  fallen  under  the  spotlight  of  international  acclaim  in  recent  years;Íž  one  of  its  oft-Âcited  characteristics  being  a  stylish  and  often  daring  use  of  violence.  From  the  murderous  ex- cess  of  Park  Chan-ÂWook’s  studies  of  vengeance,  Sym- pathy  for  Mr  Vengeance  and  Old  Boy,  to  Bong  Joon-ÂHo’s  subver- sive  and  sadistic  use  of  slapstick  in  Memories  of  Murder,  violence  seems  to  be  an  integral  part  of  all  the  Korean Â ďŹ lms  that  have  made  their  impression  in  the  West.  The  impact  of  these Â ďŹ lms  is  perhaps  unsurprising  given  the  current  trend  in  Hollywood  cinema  towards  a  stylised  pulpy  violence  itself  clearly  inuenced  by  Asian Â ďŹ lms  (The  Matrix,  Kill  Bill).  On  the  surface  at  least,  Korean  cinema  seems  to  perfectly  fulďŹ ll  Tarantino’s  commitment  to  the  use  of  violence  as  a  purely  aesthetic  element,  stripped  of  any  moral  dimension,  which  explains  the  sheer  amount  of  Korean Â ďŹ lms  currently  being  remade  in  Hollywood.  Of  the  half  dozen  or  so  directors  whose Â ďŹ lms  are  circulating  freely  amongst  western  cineastes  Kim  Ki-Âduk  is  undoubtedly  the  most  lauded  and  divisive  of  them  all.  Coming  late  to Â ďŹ lmmaking  from  a  working  class  background  of  hard  factory  work  and  military  service,  Kim  Ki-Âduk  is  an  enigma  from  the  start.  With  no Â ďŹ lm  school  qualiďŹ cation  or  formal  training  to  his  name  he  is  that  most  elusive  and  unpredictable  of Â ďŹ gures,  the  self  taught  auteur,  embraced  and  reviled  in  equal  measure  by  international  cineastes  and  the  critical  establishment.  Kim’s Â ďŹ lms  are  renowned  for  their  striking  visual Â ďŹ nesse  and  painterly  qualities  and  he  is  famed  as  a  fast Â ďŹ lmmaker,  a  compul- sive  storyteller  who  is  bursting  with  creative  energy.  Since  his  debut  with  Crocodile  in  1996  he  has  directed  no  less  than  ten Â ďŹ lms  in  eight  years,  and  from  the  beginning  his  work  has  been  driven  by  an  uncompromising,  taboo-Âconfronting  impulse.  In  his Â ďŹ lm  notes  to  the  DVD  release  of  Bad  Guy  on  the  Tartan  Asia  Extreme  label,  Jamie  Russell  nicely  sums  up  Kim  Ki-Âduk  as  “South  Korean  Cinema’s Â ďŹ rst  agent  provocateur.â€? Kim  has  divided  the  critical  community  with  many  high  pro-Â ďŹ le  cultural  commentators,  such  as  the  don  of  Asian  cinema  Tony  Rayns,  attempting  to  undermine  his  growing  reputation  even  as  many  festival  programmers  are  attempting  to  nurture  it.  Whilst  his  supporters  celebrate  the  visceral  and  surreal  qualities  of  his  aston- ishingly  rich  visual  style,  Kim’s  many  detractors,  who  mainly  come  from  the  feminist  camp,  dismiss  this  dreamlike  imagery  as  mere  juvenile  fantasy  and  perceive  a  thread  of  chauvinism  and  misogyny  running  through  his Â ďŹ lms. Although  it  is  true  that  sexuality,  violence  and  gender  politics  are  mixed  in  complicated  and  troubling  ways  in  these Â ďŹ lms,  leading  Rayns  to  label  Kim  Ki-Âduk  a  “sexual  terroristâ€?,  it  does  not  automati- cally  follow  that  Kim  is  beyond  the  pale  nor  that  his  work  should  be  so  easily  dismissed.  Many  of  Kim’s Â ďŹ lms  deal  with  the  theme  of  prostitution  in  unconventional,  and  to  some  unacceptable,  ways.  The  most  notorious  of  these Â ďŹ lms  is  Bad  Guy  (2000)  which  fol- lows  college  student  Seon-Âhwa  as  she  is  sold  into  prostitution  after  committing  a  minor  transgression  (she  takes  a  wallet  she Â ďŹ nds  in  a  shop).  It  transpires  that  her  fall  from  grace  is  orchestrated  by  a  pimp,  the  eponymous  bad  guy  Han-Âge,  in  an  attempt  to  bring  her  down  to  his  level.  Before  she  knows  it  she  is  forced  to  take  a  loan  out  on  her  body  and  shipped  off  to  the  Seoul  red-Âlight  district  in  order  to  pay  back  her  ‘victim’,  a  rich  man  who  becomes  a  eeting  symbol  of  the  patriarchal  order  that  is  her  undoing.  At Â ďŹ rst  naturally  resistant  to  the  course  that  her  life  has  taken,  Seon-Âhwa  gradually  begins  to  conform  to  her  new  role,  even  falling  for  her  kidnapper,  who  desires  her  obsessively  and  watches  her  being  raped,  and  eventually  pleasured,  by  her  clients  through  a  two-Âway  mirror.  Though  in  many  ways  Kim’s  most  misguided Â ďŹ lm,  Bad  Guy  has  nonetheless,  by  dint  of  its  being  his  most  commercially  successful,  cast  a  shadow  over  his  entire  oeuvre.  The  critical  perception  of  Kim Â
4QSJOH 4VNNFS "VUVNO 8JOUFS BOE 4QSJOH Ki-Âduk  perhaps  depends  too  heavily  on  the  tendency  to  praise  or  condemn  his Â ďŹ lms  according  to  a  convenient  but  rigidly  simplistic  concept  of  the  artistic  persona  culled  from  Bad  Guy.  Despite  this  image  of  the  director  as  a  bigoted  monster,  Kim  is  admired  by  his  cast  and  crew  as  a  kind  and  transparent  person.  Kim  Yoo-ÂSeok,  who  plays  the  main  role  in  The  Isle,  perhaps  captures  this  paradox  be- tween  the  director  and  his  material  best  when  he  says,  “he  is  like  a  child  playing  with  a  gun.â€?  For  better  or  worse,  Kim  Ki-Âduk  is  a Â ďŹ gure  whose  reputation  precedes  him  and  few  directors  in  recent  years  have  suffered  such  unwavering  critical  hostility  as  a  result.  However  Kim  Ki-ÂDuk’s  two  most  recent,  and  most  widely  cel- ebrated Â ďŹ lms,  Spring,  Summer,  Autumn,  Winter  and  Spring  and  3-ÂIron,  considerably  undermine  his  reputation  as  a  cynical  provo- cateur,  although  they  have  predictably  failed  to  reverse  established Â
,JN IBT EJWJEFE UIF DSJUJ DBM DPNNVOJUZ +BNJF 3VT TFM TVNT IJN VQ BT A4PVUI ,PSFB T mSTU BHFOU QSPWP DBUFVS 5POZ 3BZOT DBMMT IJN B ATFYVBM UFSSPJTU critical  opinion.  Both Â ďŹ lms  are  uncharacteristically  introspective  and  meditative,  using  violence  in  a  highly  effective  and  restrained  manner  as  part  of  the  overall  narrative  logic,  and  there  is  very  little  here  that  could  be  considered  chauvinistic. The  ideological  and  aesthetic  transformation  in  Kim’s  recent  work  is  interestingly  dramatised  in  the  self-Âconscious  Spring,  Sum- mer,  Autumn,  Winter  and  Spring.  Set  in  a  monastery  that  oats  upon  an  isolated  lake,  the Â ďŹ lm  poetically  explores  the  four  stages  of  a  monk’s  life,  symbolically  broken  down  into  seasons.  Like  3-ÂIron,  it  is  a Â ďŹ lm  about  morality,  a  theme  that  is  explored  through  the  prism  of  crime  and  punishment  and,  more  speciďŹ cally,  the  Buddhist  prin-Â
ciple  of  karma.  The  young  monk  is  attracted  away  from  the  spiritual  sanctum  of  the  monastery  by  a  young  woman  bought  there  to  be  cured  of  her  illness,  and  returns  years  later  after  he  has  murdered  her  in  a  jealous  rage.  His  master  punishes  the  wayward  monk  and  makes  him  carve  an  elaborate  sutra  out  on  the  monastery’s  raft  as  an  act  of  contrition.  Meanwhile  two  detectives  turn  up  to  capture  the  fugitive  but  are  forced  to  wait  until  he Â ďŹ nishes  his  task.  The  detectives,  those  key  tropes  of  the  Asian  gangster  movie,  are  rendered  utterly  redundant  by  the  narrative,  which  Kim  seems  to  be  deliberately  purging  of  all  un- necessary  generic  and  violent  elements.  This  striving  towards  stylistic  purity,  which  accompanies  the  monk’s  own  quest  for  redemption,  is  further  suggested  by  the  simple,  poetic  structure  of  the Â ďŹ lm,  which  gives  it  the  feel  of  a  haiku  sequence. Kim  Ki-Âduk  has  already  explored  the  theme  of  the  moral  redemp- tion  of  a  violent  man,  most  obviously  in  Bad  Guy,  but  here  he  places  himself,  literally,  in  that  role.  By  playing  the  older  monk  himself,  Kim  makes  the  monk’s  striving  towards  redemption  after  committing  a  violent  act  (against  a  woman  no  less)  a  parable  for  his  own  attempt  to  reinvent  himself,  by  shedding  the  stigma  of  misogyny  and  arbitrary  violence  that  has  sullied  much  of  his  work.  Few  directors,  at  least  in  recent  times,  have  used  the  cinematic  medium  in  such  a  personal  and  introspective  manner,  or  attempted  to  challenge  and  redress  critical  assumptions  about  their  work  so  directly,  and  this  certainly  makes  for  a Â ďŹ lm  far  richer  in  meanings  than  its  simple  structure  suggests.  Kim’s  new Â ďŹ lm  3-ÂIron  (out  on  DVD  on  7  November,  and  reviewed  in  this  Event)   focuses  on  the  taciturn  Tae-Âsuk,  an  enigmatic  drifter  who  borrows  people’s  houses  whilst  they  are  out,  existing  on  the  fringe  of  society  and  apart  from  its  rules  until  he  stumbles  upon  and  falls  in  love  with  an  abused  wife  named  Sun-Âhwa,  who  sees  in  him  a  kindred  spirit  and  joins  him  on  his  wanderings.  At  once  a  poignantly  beautiful  and  transgressive  love  story  and  a  sophisticated  existential  meditation  on  personal  responsibility,  choice  and  the  relativity  of  moral  values,  3-ÂIron  suggests  that  Kim’s  transformation  is  not  merely  temporary  but  part  of  a  new  maturity  in  his  work.  With  his  reputation  and  critical  animosity  growing  in  more  or  less  equal  measure,  the  time  is  ripe  for  a  wider  ranging  and  deeper  understanding  of  Kim  Ki-Âduk’s Â ďŹ lms.
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Event The
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Not  The  Nine  Black  Alps 0OF PG UIF NPTU UBMLFE BCPVU CBOET PG SFDFOU XFFLT TQFBLT UP 5IF &WFOU T ,FMWJO ,OJHIU BOE (FPSHF 8ZOEIBN BCPVU XIBU JUT MJLF UP CF JO UIF CJH MFBHVFT CJH FHPT BOE UIF GBDU UIBU UIFZ SF OPU 5IF /JOF #MBDL "MQT
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alloween  night  and  a  creeping  low  mist  has  eerily  descended  around  Norwich.  October  31st  is  the  re- lease   date  of  their  new  single  ‘Just  Friends’  and  Nine  Black  Alps  are  playing  in  the  Waterfront  tonight  to  mark  the  occasion.  I  arrive  just  in  time  to  catch  drummer  James  Gal- ley  and  have  a  few  words  with  him  before  he  puts  on  his  blood  spattered  Halloween  costume  and  starts  the  show.  He  doesn’t  seem  to  mind  that  I  tried  to  interview  the  wrong  bloke Â ďŹ rst  and  sit- ting  on  a  raised  wooded  platform  with  a  beer  in  his  hand  he  seems  calm,  conďŹ dent  and  willing  to  talk.  He  already  had  a  grilling  from  my  friends  but  as  I  was  late  he  is  quite  prepared  to  go  through  it  all  again,  what  a  nice  guy!   Chris  Martin  came  out  the  other  day  and  said  that  Nine  Black  Alps  were  the  most  exciting  thing  to  come  out  of  Britain  in  the  last  year.  When  reminded  of  this  fact  drummer  James  Galley  said;Íž  ‘It’s  a  great  compliment  but  I  hate  Coldplay‌  I’ve  never  liked  Coldplay,  its  too  wet  and  its  got  no  balls  or  energy  at  all  and  it’s  the  most  morose  music  I’ve  ever  heard.’  In  fairness  the  hard  driven,  teeny  angst  fuelled  music  of  Nine  Black  Alps  couldn’t  really  be  further  away  from  the  likes  of  Coldplay.  James  said  that  musical  inuences  of  the  group  were  varied,  his  however  stemmed  from  Greenday,  The  Offspring,  The  Pixies,  Led  Zeppelin  and  of  course  Nirvana.  Indeed  you  can  hear  a  great  deal  of  Cobain,  Novoselic  and  Grohl  in  Nine  Black  Alps.  Tracks  like  “Shot  Downâ€?  and  “Not  Everyoneâ€?  should  be  instant  manna  for  a  generation  that  still  hold  Kurt  in  saintly  regard  and  it  is  no  wonder  that  critics  have  hailed  them  as  the  new  grunge  band  in  town. Obviously  there  is  a  rich  tradition  of  alternative  music  to  come  out  of  Manchester  and  when  asked  about  their  northern  musical  roots  in  common  with  The  Smiths,  Joy  Division  and  the  Happy  Mondays,  James  said;Íž  “Personally  I  am  not  at  all  inuenced  by  that  Manchester  scene  thing,  groups  like  that  were  deďŹ nitely  around  when  we  were  growing  up  but  we  were  all  about  the  American  rock  and  metal  bands.  It  seems  like  loads  of  bands  try  to  rip  of  Oasis,  Joy  Division  and  stuff  like  that  but  we’re  so  bored  of  all  that  you  know.  Don’t  get  me  wrong  we  are  very  proud  to  come  from  Manchester,  it’s  a  great  city  but  the  scene  has  been  dead  for  roughly  ten  years.  To  keep  that  tradition  alive  you  have  to  come  up  with  new  stuff  and  we  feel  like  we’re  doing  that.â€?         Â
Talking  to  James  gave  us  an  idea  of  how  suddenly  these  four  young  men  from  Manchester  have  hit  the  big  time.  The  band  whom  only  formed  two  years  ago  have  moved  very  quickly  from  playing  house  parties  and  pubs  for  their  mates  to  venues  such  as  Liver- pool’s  Carling  Academy  and  London’s  Astoria.  The  stunning  suc- cess  of  their  debut  album  ‘Everything  Is’  means  big  things  for  the  Alps  and  they  seem  blown  away  by  the  thrill  of  it  all.  “The  tour  has  been  terriďŹ c  so  far,  um  we’ve  played  like  the  biggest  venues  that  we’ve  ever  played  in‌this  has  been  our  biggest  headline  tour  to  date.  In  Birmingham  we  played  to  like  2,000  people.  It’s  been  a  real  step  up  for  us.â€?  When  asked  about  the  reaction  of  the  audience  at  their  shows  James  said  almost  shyly  “People  seem  to  enjoy  them- selves  at  our  gigs.â€?  Modestly  he  played  down  the  bands  success  by  pointing  out  that  there  was  no  media  frenzy  surrounding  the  group.  “You  won’t Â ďŹ nd  us  talking  on  Jonathan  Rossâ€?  he  said  almost  proudly.  Nine  Black  Alps  seem  to  have  done  it  the  old  fashioned  way,  getting  their  name  out  there  into  CD  collections  by  constant  savage  touring  in  the  UK  last  year.  Through  all  the  obvious  prob- lems  and  trials  of  a  young  group  making  it  famous,  there  seems  to  still  be  a  classic  group  mentality  about  the  band.  “Overriding Â
/JOF #MBDL "MQT TFFN UP IBWF EPOF JU UIF PME GBTI JPOFE XBZ HFUUJOH UIFJS OBNF PVU UIFSF JOUP $% DPM MFDUJPOT CZ DPOTUBOU TBWBHF UPVSJOH JO UIF 6, MBTU ZFBS egos  really  aren’t  an  issue  for  usâ€?  he  laughed.  No  Pete  Doherty’s  in  the  band  then?  “No  one’s  trying  to  take  control  and  it  seems  that  if  one  of  us  has  an  idea  the  rest  will  be  happy  to  follow.  Then  we  all  thrash  it  out  in  the  rehearsal  room.â€?  When  listing  to  their  album  their  songs  can  sometimes  seem  insanely  repetitive  and  the  word  ‘thrashing’  seems  about  right.  However  beneath  the  distortion  ped- als  and  Nirvana  like  feedback  there  is  an  undeniable  richness  in  their  music.  On  tracks  like  ‘Cosmopolitan’  and  ‘UnsatisďŹ ed’  The  Alps  create  layers  of  melodic  harmonies  over  the  fast  and  manically  strummed  bar  chords  by  Sam  Forrest  backed  up  by  David  Jones  or Â
Martin  Cohen.  When  asked  about  their  song  writing  James  said,  “We  all  have  a  big  sharing  with  the  song  writing  but  I  wouldn’t  want  to  go  anywhere  near  the  lyrics,  that  job  belongs  to  Sam  (Forrest).  Its  like  on  that  Metallica  DVD  ‘Some  Kind  of  Monster’  when  they  are  all  writing  lyrics  together,  that  just  seems  the  worst  thing  in  the  world  to  me  and  I  can’t  ever  imagine  writing  lyrics  collectively.  When  one  person  is  singing  then  it  has  to  be  personal  to  them  you  know.â€?    The  question  I’ve  been  waiting  to  ask  comes  next:  really  James  what  is  with  your  bands  name  Nine  Black  Alps,  I  mean  did  you  all  go  on  a  dark  skiing  holiday  in  France  or  something?  It’s  a  mysterious  name  for  sure.  He  revealed  all  by  saying  “It’s  a  line  from  a  poem  called  ‘the  Couriers’  by  Sylvia  Plath  and  it  has  absolutely  so  signiďŹ - cance  whatsoever‌  we  needed  a  name  because  we  were  going  to  play  our Â ďŹ rst  gig  in  Manchester.  So  Martin  owned  a  book  of  poetry  and  we  just  looked  through  it  randomly  and  like  picked  out  words  and  phrases  that  looked  cool.  We  had  a  list  of  ten  and  that  was  the  least  worst  of  them  all.  It  was  something  different  and  a  bit  dark  and  it  didn’t  start  with  ‘the,’  bands  that  start  with  ‘the’  annoy  me.  We  have  to  correct  people  who  call  us  The  Nine  Black  Alps.â€?   Tonight  the  band  could  not  have  a  better  name.  The  Waterfront  is  appropriately  decked  out  with  fake  cobwebs,  pumpkins  and  bats,  hung  from  the  ceiling.  Nine  Black  Alps  appear  on  stage  in  full  festive  costume,  and  before  the  band  are  ready,  the  audience  are  roaring  approval  at  the  distinctive  opening  bars  of  Cosmopolitan.  The  open- ing  track  becomes  a  runaway  ghost  train,  steaming  through  haunting  melodic  verses  towards  a  climactic  eruption,  which,  when  it  comes,  is  all  the  more  satisfying  for  the  context  of  the  performance.  The  re- frain:  “We’ll  be  dead  by  sunrise,â€?  can  only  be  truly  appreciated  when  theatrically  delivered  by  frontman  Sam  Forrest  wearing  a  black  cloak,  hood  down  to  reveal  pigtails,  and  eye  make-Âup,  leading  a  band  of  zombies  and  reapers. Support  band  Giant  Drag  were  just  as  eager  to  enter  into  the  spirit  of  the  evening,  bringing  the  American  fervour  for  Halloween  to  the  festivities.  “Unfortunately  Nine  Black  Alps  will  not  be  playing  to- night,  as  they’ve  been  killed,â€?  announced  singer  Annie,  “You’ll  see.â€?  A  smear  of  blood  on  the  side  of  her  face  proves  unnecessary.  Her  effortless  eccentricity  is  enough  to  hold  any  audience,  any  night  of  the  year. Nine  Black  Alps  play  for  little  less  than  forty-ÂďŹ ve  minutes,  racing  through  the  majority  of  the  tracks  on  debut  album  Everything  Is.  They  are  tight,  intense  and  unrelenting.  For  the Â ďŹ rst  three  tracks  Forrest  says  nothing.  After  this  he  occasionally  exclaims  his  distinctively  Mancu- nian  appreciation  of  the  crowds  response  to  the  songs.  “Ta,  cheers.â€?  He  omits  any  comment  about  new  single  Just  Friends,  allows  the  track  its  own  voice,  with  which  it  demonstrates  faultless  conďŹ dence  and  urgency,  being  rewarded  with  one  of  the  best  receptions  of  the  night.  The  nauseatingly  good  single  Not  Everyone,  which  has  been  compared  extensively  to  the  early  90s  grunge  scene,  is  clearly  another  crowd  favourite,  and  the  invigorating,  lively  performance  dispels  any  myths  that  the  band  want  to  refresh  the  genre  which  shot  Nirvana  to  stardom.  But  for  Intermission,  which,  as  you  might  expect,  arrives  in  the  middle  of  the  set,  and  which  demonstrates  the  eclectic  tastes  and  talents  of  the  band,  every  song  is  bursting  at  the  seams  with  energy,  longing  to  become  the  next  on  the  playlist.  Having  declared  the  previous  track  the Â ďŹ nal  one,  the  band,  with  little  more  than  a  look  and  a  nod,  launch  into  Shot  Down,  an  agreeable  pounding  climax  to  a  concise,  vigorous  performance. Enter  Micah,  drummer  and  keyboardist  in  Giant  Drag,  dressed  as  a  zombie,  walking  like  a  zombie,  to  wrestle  Forrest  to  the  ground,  revealing  to  the  majority  of  the  audience  that  he  has  been  playing  barefoot  throughout  the  show.  They  may  not  cause  a  fuss,  they  cer- tainly  don’t  waste  time,  they  may  not  even  wear  shoes,  yet  Nine  Black  Alps  proved  their  worth  this  evening  as  an  awe-Âinspiring  live  act.                Â
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Creative  Writing TAXI  Cabby’s  Corner
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Cabby’s  corner  is  dedicated  to  the  taxi  drivers  of  Norwich  with  their  endless  facts,  stories  and  revelations.   Next  time  you  get  a  taxi  bring  your  notepad  and  email  your  own  cabby’s  corner  to  m.whitton@uea.ac.uk So  how  many  freshers  you  slept  with  then?  I’d  have  gone  to  Uni,  but  they  didn’t  have  all  the  girls  like  they  have  now.  In  my  day  the  only  girls  that  went  to  Uni  wore  glasses  and  sweaters  and  played  the  guitar.   But  some  of  the  girls  I’ve  picked  up  from  your  uni  here‌well,  they  all  look  pretty  easy  to  me.  My  son  is  a  bloody  prat  right.  He’s  seventeen  yeah,  and  he’s  been  with  the  same  girl  for  three  years.  I  keep  trying  to  tell  him,  at  his  age  he  should  be  shagging  around.  He  tells  me  he’s  in  love  and  that  just  gets  me  mad.  In  love?  I  ask  you,  do  you  think  a  seven- teen  year  old  should  be  with  the  same  girl  for  three  years.  I  think  It’s  sick... Â
I  needed  a  leak,  it  was  desperate. The  sun  licked  air  lazed  solemnly  – Whilst  I  slipped  on  shoes  that  rubbed  my  toes, Stepping  out  to  more  muddy  mileage. Somewhere  between  I  wandered  off, Waving  to  a  stranger  that  didn’t  know  my  name Nor  generate  any  sense  – Of  feeling  that  could  lace  me  up. I  took  a  deep  breath,  but  anxiety  had  gone, Groaning  in  defence  of  its  presence, I  plodded  on  the  beyond, ‘Come  what  may’  was  an  absurdity I  used  to  speak,  instead  I  listened. The  violet  night  breathed  so  easy, Playing  Jazz  with  crickets  and  trafďŹ c I  forgot  myself- To  be  alone  and  vulnerable Little  pieces  of  forgotten  comforts, Slowly  jaded, And  lost.           Ben  Woods
The  Growing  Popularity  of  Firs  &  Pines That  night  the  leaves  fell  hard  like  coins and  sunk  their  shapes  into  the  ground and  made  deep  impressions  in  it.   Someone  slipped  into  the  dent  of  an  oak  leaf... someone  else  into  a  maple...another  an  elm... whole  woods  closing  upon  themselves...
Locust Place  your  hand  on  inches  of  land Hover  black  over  an  atlas  map.
Place  your  hand  on  inches  of  land Hover  black  over  an  atlas  map. While  winds  bend  grasses  back Durian  fruits  fall  across  Vietnam. Hatching  has  occurred  near  the  delta Where  rains  fall  through  the  night. A  bank  of  cloud  hails  swarms Of  locusts,  black  arrow  down.  This,this  is  some  other  sky Where  white  ants  burrow In  conical  mounds  as  salty  As  the  cu  chi  tunnels  are  orderly.
I  Wandered  Off  at  3am
I  am  so  heavily  invested in  the  world
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While  winds  bend  grasses  back Durian  fruits  fall  across  Vietnam.
Hatching  has  occurred  near  the  delta Where  rains  fall  through  the  night. A  bank  of  cloud  hails  swarms Of  locusts,  black  arrow  down.  This,this  is  some  other  sky Where  white  ants  burrow
In  conical  mounds  as  salty  As  the  cu  chi  tunnels  are  orderly.     Anna  Steward
Place  your hand  on  inch Hover  black Â
The  priest  was  very  busy  that  season, consoling  the  bereaved  with  rakes  and  bags. Next  spring  one  would  frequently  hear the  remaining  shudder  when  the  green  broke  out. Jonathon  Tosch
The  Birds
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the  dust  is  paying  me  dividends I  am  rich  with  clutter and  I  am  bored with  everything  I  do. At  twilight  I  watch  the  birds fall  down  from  the  wire and  then  rise  up  again
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Did  they Â ďŹ nd  something valuable  there I  am  at  the  end  of  my  wit and  I  am  tired  My  boxes  are  still  by  the  door I  am  so  insecure  I  keep  rising  off  my  chair Jonathon  Tosch
UIF EVTU JT QBZJOH NF EJWJ EFOET
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HOROSCOPES Aquarius:  Jan  20  -  Feb  18 You  shouldn’t  have  done  that.  Mars  is  a  vengeful  planet  and  has  aligned  with  your  stars.  You  can  try  apologis- ing  but  the  next  fortnight  will  inevita- bly  bare  witness  to  your  comeuppance  Â
Aries:  Mar  21  -  Apr  19
You  should  really  give  your  mother  a  ring.  You  said  you’d  phone  her  at  the  end  of  last  week  and  now  she’s  wor- ried  sick.  The  stars  this  week  suggest  that  it’s  all  about  family.   So  call  her. Â
Leo:  Jul  23  -  Aug  22
You  should  deďŹ nitely  buy  a  lottery  ticket  this  week.  You  won’t  win  of  course,  but  the  anticipation  will  bring  a  much  needed  thrill  to  your  other- wise  dull  Saturday.  Â
Your  lucky  words  are  “eat�  and  “lots�.  Your  stars  reveal  that  if  you  go  down  to  the  diner  and  spend  a  tenner  then  the  rest  of  your  week  will  be  smooth  and  blissful.   Always  ask  for  seconds.
Cancer:  Jun  22  -  Jul  22
Libra:  Sept  23  -  Oct  23
Didn’t  the  cartoon  hedgehog  teach  you  anything?  Look  left  and  right  and  THEN  cross  the  road.  The  stars  have  seen  that  BMW  coming  around  the  corner  –  make  sure  you  do! Â
Wow.  I’ve  seen  Venus  align  in  all  sorts  of  seductive  ways,  but  I’ve  nev- er  seen  it  orbit  quite  so  passionately  through  Libra  before.  You  are  deďŹ nitely  getting  laid  this  week. Â
Capricorn:  Dec  22  -  Jan  19 Have  you  seen  the  night  sky  recently?  You  don’t  have  to  be  an  expert  astrol- oger  like  me  to  see  that  Jupiter  moving  through  Capricorn  is  gonna  reek  havoc  on  your  social  life.  Look  up,  and  see  for  yourself.
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Gemini:  May  21  -  Jun  21
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Pisces:  Feb  19  -  Mar  20 This  fortnight  friends  will  let  you  down,  family  will  bring  hardship,  work  will  make  you  stressed  and  your  love  life  will  collapse.  Sorry,  but  the  stars  can’t  be  controlled  and  I  just  tell  it  like  it  is. Â
Sagittarius:  Nov  22  -  Dec  21 I  can’t  work  out  if  it’s  a  star  or  a  me- teor  aligning  with  Sagittarius.  If  it’s  a  star,  you  will  lose  weight,  achieve  that Â ďŹ rst  and Â ďŹ nd  a  quid  on  the  road.  A  me- teor  represents  certain  death. Â
Scorpio:  Oct  24  -  Nov  21 This  fortnight  will  be  pretty  so  so.  Nothing  great  will  happen,  but  no  se- rious  harm  will  come  to  you  if  you  see  what  I  mean.  Stars  are  like  that  some- times.  But  a  prophesy  is  a  prophesy. Â
Taurus:  Apr  20  -  May  20  Good  things  come  in  small  packages,  but  big  packages  are  so‌well,  nice  and  big.  Size  counts  this  fortnight.  Go  for  big,  go  for  huge,  go  for  massive.  Super  size  your  lifestyle  and  it  be  better  for  it.  Â
Virgo:  Aug  23  -  Sept  22 Never  underestimate  the  power  of  a  good  break.  Bunk  that  seminar,  you  didn’t  do  the  reading  anyway,  and  go  to  Cromer  for  the  day.  Fish  and  chips  on  the  beach  will  put  everything  in  perspective.
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Clive  Talkin’
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live  James  visited  UEA  last  week  to  speak  at  the  Literary  Festival,  and  The  Event  was  able  to  catch  up  with  him  at  Waterstone’s  after  his  entertaining  lecture  and  almost  an  hour’s  worth  of  book  signing.  He  sat  down  for  the  interview  with  a  large  glass  of  red  wine  in  one  hand  and  the  rest  of  the  bottle  in  the  other.  He  was  more  than  willing  to  talk  about  his  extensive  and  varied  career,  as  well  as  his  experiences  as  an  expat  Aussie  who  has  been  resident  in  the  UK  for  over  forty  years. Born  in  Sydney  in  1939,  James  has  reected  deeply  on  his  early  years  in  all  his  writing,  and  particularly  in  his  best  selling  three- part  autobiography  ‘Always  Unreliable’.  He  was  keen  to  point  out  how  his  writing  is  still  deeply  inuenced  by  his  childhood  memories  in  Australia,  “As  I’ve  got  even  older  the  memories  have  got  even  younger  and  now  I’m  remembering  things  that  happened  to  me Â
i*O GBDU * BDUVBMMZ TUBZFE PO UP EP B 1I% TP UIBU * DPVME CF 1SFTJEFOU PG 'PPUMJHIUT 5IBU JT B IJUIFSUP VO SF WFBMFE TDBOEBM PG NZ MJGF w when  I  was  twoâ€?.  He  went  on  to  say,  “I  won’t  go  into  these  memo- ries  in  detail  because  I  am  saving  them  up  for  my  fourth  volume  of  memoirs  which  will  be  called  ‘My  name  in  lights’.  Nominally  it  will  be  about  my  career  in  show  business  but  it  will  also  contain  some  very  early  memories.â€? After  attending  Sydney  Technical  High  School  and  Sydney  Uni- versity  where  he  was  literary  editor  of  the  University  newspaper  Honi  Soit,  he  spent  a  year  working  on  the  magazine  page  of  the  Sydney  Morning  Herald  before  heading  to  England.  He  says  of  his  homeland  in  the  early  60s,  “In  those  days  Australia  was  perceived  by  everybody  who  was  going  to  do  the  sort  of  things  that  I  wanted  to  do,  as  being  a  bit  of  a  backwater.  The  perception  wasn’t  really  accurate,  but  Australia  was  already  changing.  The  migrants  were  changing  it,  but  we  didn’t  stop  thatâ€?. He  clearly  is  happy  to  re-Âtell  the  story  of  how  he  originally  came  to  Britain  in  1961.  “We  all  piled  on  a  ship  and  came  to  Britain.  Many  of  us  almost  starved  to  death,  but  that’s  what  you  did!â€?  James  was  happy  to  explain  that  whilst  many  of  the  people  of  his  genera- tion  thought  they  were  being  radical  by  moving  halfway  across  the  world,  in  fact  they  were  anything  but,  “Everybody  thinks  they  are  original,  but  mainly  they  do  what  everybody  else  is  doing  and  that’s  what  my  gang  didâ€?. In  his  memoirs,  Clive  James  has  explained  how  much  of  a  fail- ure  he  was  in  the  early  1960s  in  London  and  how  he  was  able  to  escape  this  dismal  situation  by  getting  a  place  at  Cambridge  Uni- versity  to  read  for  a  second  undergraduate  degree.  “It  would  not  have  been  enough  to  say  that  I  was  a  failure  in  London.  One  had  to  convey  the  way  failure  felt:  how  the  clothes  slept  in  to  keep  one  warm  looked  wrong  the  next  day,  how  a  letter  of  rejection  could  be  distinguished  from  a  letter  of  acceptance  before  it  was  opened,  how  one  drank  to  quell  one’s  nagging  conscience  about  having  bor- rowed  the  money  with  which  to  drink.  In  the  next  generation,  young  people  needed  a  heroin  to  live  like  that.  I  managed  it  through  sheer  talent.  Cambridge  was  my  way  out,  if  not  upâ€?. Clive  James  told  Concrete  more  speciďŹ cally,  “The  story  is  told  of  how  I  was  a  notable  failure  in  London  in  the  early  years  of  the  60s  and  how  I  had  to  get  safe  and  above  all  I  needed  to  get  warm. Â
At  Cambridge  of  course  the  rooms  were  warm,  so  I  managed  to  get  into  Cambridge.â€?  When  it  was  pointed  out  that  he  was  obviously  clever  enough  to  be  offered  a  place  at  Pembroke  College  to  read  English,  he  responded, “Only  just.  I  was  clever  enough  to  have  a  Professor  back  in  Australia  who  was  ready  to  recommend  me.  I  probably  stole  the  place  from  somebody  who  deserved  it  better  and  that’s  something  that  has  been  on  my  conscience  ever  since!â€? He  writes  movingly  of  this  period  of  his  life  in  the  third  volume  of  memoirs  ‘May  week  was  in  June’,  “Cambridge  was  my  personal  playground.  It  would  be  useless  for  me  to  pretend  otherwise.  I  would  be  surprised  if  nostalgia  for  those  easy  years  did  not  drip  from  the  following  pages  like  sweat.  In  Cambridge  in  the  sixties,  my  course  was  altered  and Â ďŹ xed,  for  good  or  ill.  For  this  reason  though  I  still  spend  a  good  deal  of  time  there,  the  place  is  always  in  the  past  to  me,  as  epoch-Âmaking  as  my Â ďŹ rst  pair  of  long  pants,  and  almost,  and  almost  as  glamorous.  The  spires,  the  lawns,  the  spring  alliance  of  jonquils  and  daffodils:  I  hardened  my  heart  against  these  things,  and  they  all  went  to  my  headâ€?. When  not  studying,  and  one  gets  the  impression  that  James  was  not  the  most  committed  student-Âthough  he  got  a  2:1  in  his Â ďŹ nals-Â,  he  was  busy  writing  and  then  rehearsing  and  performing  with  Footlights,  the  world  famous  Cambridge  University  Drama  Society.  This  was  the  part  of  his  Cambridge  career  that  he  enjoyed  the  most.  Bill  Oddie  and  Eric  Idle  were  among  his  contemporaries  together  with  one  of  the Â ďŹ rst  women  allowed  to  join  Footlights.  Like  Clive  James,  she  was  a  straight  talking  Australian  and  her  name  was  Germaine  Greer.  “Well  Germaine  was  bright.  I  mean  Germaine  was  incontestably  academically  bright.  I  was  not!â€? After  he Â ďŹ nished  his  degree  course  he  became  the  President  of  Footlights,  and  this  celebrated  position  certainly  set  him  on  the  road  to  greater  success.  He  had  to Â ďŹ nd  a  suitable  reason  to  spend  another  year  in  Cambridge,  and  admitted  that  he  had  to  mislead  the  university  authorities,  “In  fact  I  actually  stayed  on  to  do  a  PhD  so  that  I  could  be  President  of  Footlights.  That’s  is  a  hitherto  un- revealed  scandal  of  my  life.  That  really  was  a  stroke;Íž  I  should  never Â
have  pulled  that  one!  I  never Â ďŹ nished  the  PhD  and  had  no  intention  of Â ďŹ nishing  it!â€? In  his  latest  publication  ‘The  meaning  of  Recognition’  which  is  a  collection  of  essays  and  articles  he  has  written,  James  writes  exten- sively  about  the  concept  of  celebrity.  When  asked  if  he  liked  the  way  in  which  celebrity  culture  has  changed  since  the  1960s  he  replied,  “Yes  I  do,  because  if  everybody  gets  as  famous  as  Jade  Goody  then  it  ceases  to  matter  which  is  really  what  we  want.  We  have  got  to  the  stage  now  where  Madonna  can  fall  on  her  head  and  nobody  cares  very  much.  That’s  the  way  it  ought  to  be.â€? He  went  on  to  stress  that  merit  is  being  recognised  more  than  it  ever  has  been,  “Now  people  are  being  admired  for  achievement.  It’s  not  enough  just  to  be  a  well-Âknown  Hollywood  actor  anymore.  You’ve  got  to  be  Denzel  Washington.  You’ve  got  to  be  really  able  to  do  something.  I Â ďŹ nd  in  my  own  life  I  haven’t  lost  anything  by  leaving  TV.  There  was  a  time  when  journalists  would  presume  you  were  dead  if  you  weren’t  on  television.  Now  it’s  not  quite  the  same.â€? When  asked  about  the  ‘Postcard’  series  of  documentaries  featur- ing  different  countries  and  cultures  of  the  world,  for  which  he  is  most  famous,  Clive  James  spoke  movingly  of  this  period  of  his  working  life,  “I  wrote  these  programmes  very  carefully.  Some  of  my  best  writing  is  in  Postcard  from  Los  Angeles  for  example  or  at  the  end  of  ‘Postcard  from  New  York’.  I  know  where  the  great  paragraphs  are  and  I  know  which  bits  were  really  hard  to  doâ€?. Our Â ďŹ fteen  minutes  with  the  great  man  concluded  with  a  brief  question  about  whether  he  thought  there  had  been  a  decline  in  British  made  television  drama  given  the  success  of  American  made  shows.  He  responded,  â€?  There  is  no  decline,  but  you  can’t  match  the  yanks  in  stuff  like  that,  because  of  the  depth  that  they  will  put  into  the  writ- ing.  You  can  never  do  a  gangster  series  that  competes  with  the  Yanks,  because  let’s  face  it,  nobody  gives  a  shit  about  British  crime!â€? It  is  an  interesting  note  to  conclude  with,  but  a  humorous  and  deeply  intelligent  comment  from  a  particularly  interesting  man.  As  he  said  towards  the  end  of  our  allotted  time,  “You’re  getting  some  good  stuff  out  of  me  tonight.  Now  what  happened  to  that  bottle?â€?.
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The  Art  of  Kitamura
it,  ‘Kitamura’s  originality  lies  in  the  imaginative  use  he  makes  of  the  cartoonist’s  art.  Deceptively  simple,  it  is  at  the  service  of  a  remark- able  sense  of  design  and  real  gift  for  narrative.’  For  his Â ďŹ rst  book,  ‘Angry  Arthur’  he  won  the  Mother  Goose  Award  for  best  new  illustrator,  followed  shortly  by  the  Signal  prize  for  chil- dren’s  poetry  for  a  book  of  poems  called  ‘Sky  in  the  Pie’  written  by  Roger  McGough.   Satoshi’s  artistic  originality  is  perhaps  partly  due  to  the  fact  he  never  trained  academically  as  an  artist  or  attended  an  art  college.  He  was  born  in  Tokyo,  where  he  spent  his  childhood,  but  moved  to  Long- don  at  the  age  of  twenty-Âthree,  and  has  since  spent  the  most  part  of  his  life  travelling  between  the  two  cities.  He  left  school  at  the  age  of  seventeen,  and  although  he  says  he  always  enjoyed  drawing  as  a  child  –  he  started  as  young  as  four,  following  in  the  footsteps  of  an  artisti- cally  inclined  elder  brother  –  becoming  an  artist,  and  indeed  one  of  the  most  highly  thought  of  children’s  authors  and  illustrators  around  today,  was  not  something  he  planned.  He  told  us,  “I  enjoyed  drawing  aeroplanes  and  cars,  or  writing  comics.  I  didn’t  ever  think  of  becom- ing  an  artist.â€?  Nonetheless  drawing  seems  to  have  been  somewhat  of  an  obsession  for  him,  or  a  compulsion  at  least:  “I  drew  one  picture  a  day  –  I  didn’t  want  to  go  to  bed  unless  I  had  drawn  something.â€?  And  most  often  it  was  from  his  own  imagination,  rather  than  from  the  real  world,  that  he  drew. He  found  his Â ďŹ rst  job  working  as  a  commercial  illustrator  for  ad- verts  and  magazines.  It  was  when  he  came  to  London  that  he  decided  drawing  comics  could  be  more  of  a  career  than  a  pastime.  “One  day  I  was  really  bored  and  I  got  an  idea  for  a  story,  so  I  did  one,  a  small  one  with  pictures.  It  looked  like  a  children’s  story.  So  I  went  to  a  book- shop  and  picked  up  children’s  books  which  looked  nice,  and  I  copied  the  address  of  the  publishers  and  sent  these  photocopied  stories  to  about  ten.â€? The  Event  asked  Satoshi  where  he Â ďŹ nds  inspiration  for  his  paint- ings  and  drawings,  he  said,  with  characteristic  modesty,  “I  don’t  know  whether  I  have  inspiration  –  it’s  just  desire  to  paint  and  to  draw,  that’s  always  there.â€?  He  continued,  “Illustration  is  something  I  really Â
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he  Event  have  a  confession  to  make  –  we  used  to  hate  our  parents  reading  us  bedtime  stories.  We’re  not  saying  they  didn’t  put  a  lot  of  effort  into  it,  using  all  the  techniques  at  their  disposal,  funny  voices,  spectacular  sound  effects,  the  lot.  It  was  just  they  were,  dare  we  say  it,  a  bit  boring.  How  many  times  did  Biff,  Chip  and  Kipper  (did  anyone  else Â ďŹ nd  that  name  strange  and  a  tad  disturbing?)  have  to  steal  some- thing  they  shouldn’t  before  they  realised  stealing  was  bad?  Those  thinly  disguised  morals  in  ropey  unimaginative  plots  if  anything  made  me  want  to  go  out  and  mug  an  old  lady  simply  because  Biff,  Chip  and  Kipper  didn’t  want  me  to.  It  certainly  put  us  off  reading  for  a  long  time.  We  know  it  sounds  bitter  and  we’re  sure  many  of  you  out  there  have  fond  memories  of  those  books,  put  it  down  to  our  being  snobbish  little  sods  as  children.   Anyway,  with  that  said  you  can  imagine  our  collective  heart  sinking  when  we  arrived  at  an  Art  Society  event  –  a  talk  with  the  illustrator  and  writer  Satoshi  Kitamura,  and  the  softly  spoken  Japanese  man  said  those  terrifying  words  ‘I’m  going  to  read  you  a  story.’  He  turns  down  the  lights  and  pulls  out  of  a  suitcase  an  actual  miniature  stage,  like  a  puppet  thea- tre  complete  with  red  silky  curtains,  only  with  pictures  and  draw- ings  instead  of Â ďŹ gurines  inside.  He  then  begins  the  story,  pulling  the  curtains  back  to  reveal  his Â ďŹ rst  picture.  The  picture  is  beautiful,  exquisitely  painted,  though  simple  –  a  house  with  a  blue  door  and  some  kind  of  green  monster  inside  looking  out  of  the  window. Â
We  think  to  ourselves  ‘what  is  this  man  doing  wasting  his  time  making  kid’s  books?  We  certainly  wouldn’t  if  we  could  paint  like  that.’  But  then  as  he  begins  to  tell  a  story,  about  a  monster  who  has  eaten  too  much  and  can’t  get  out  of  his  house,  though  it  sounds  like  a  ridiculous  clichĂŠ,  we  begin  to  see  things  differently.  All  the  pictures  in  the  story  are  stunning,  comic  and  imaginative.  They  are  full  of  the  most  vivid  colours,  for  the  green  monster  has  to  eat  his  house  to  escape  and  then  proceeds  to  eat  everything  he  sees:  trees,  lampposts,  houses,  countries  and  eventually  the  whole  world,  and  the  solar  system. We  look  around  at  the  rest  of  the  Art  Society  and  they  all,  like  us,  are  utterly  transďŹ xed  by  the  story,  but  most  of  all  by  the  wonder- ful  pictures  –  so  wonderful  that  you  think  the  story  doesn’t  even  need  Satoshi’s  words  –  it’s  all  about  the  pictures.  As  the  story Â ďŹ n- ishes  and  we  burst  into  rapturous  applause,  (the  monster,  having  eaten  absolutely  everything  in  the  universe  becoming  a  universe  in  himself),  our  heads  are  buzzing  with  questions  ‘who  is  this  man’  and  ‘why  on  earth  wasn’t  he  around  when  I  was  a  kid?’,  more  impor- tantly  ‘if  we’re  enjoying  this  and  everyone  else  around  us  is  enjoying  this  too  –  then  why  are  pictures  solely  for  the  domain  of  children?’   The  originality  of  Kitamura’s  style  –  his  bold,  linear  illustrations  executed  in  pen,  ink  and  watercolour  mark  him  out  as  one  of  the  most  interesting  and  innovative  children’s   illustrators  of  the  past  thirty  years,  on  a  par  with  the  likes  of  David  McKee  (‘King  Rollo’  and  ‘Elmer  the  Elephant’)  and  Eric  Carle  (‘The  Very  Hungry  Caterpil- lar’)  As  the  Times  Educational  Supplement  has  so  eloquently  put Â
5IF PSJHJOBMJUZ PG ,JUBNV SB T TUZMF o IJT CPME MJOFBS JMMVTUSBUJPOT FYFDVUFE JO QFO JOL BOE XBUFSDPMPVS NBSL IJN PVU BT POF PG UIF NPTU JOUFSFTUJOH BOE JOOPWBUJWF DIJMESFO T JM MVTUSBUPST PG UIF QBTU UIJSUZ ZFBST enjoy  and  like,  but  also  it’s  a  job.  Basically,  even  if  you’re  professional,  drawing  and  painting  is  not  totally  a  job  –  it’s  something  you  enjoy,  you  like  –  so,  sometimes  even  if  I  spend  all  day  doing  a  job,  and  at  the  end  of  the  day  I  feel  like  doing  something  else,  I  start  drawing  some- thing  else,  for  fun‌.like,  say  if  you’re  a  musician  of  classical  music  and  spend  the  whole  day  practicing  and  playing  in  a  concert,  you’ll  just  go  to  a  pub  or  somewhere  and  play  jazz‌â€?he  laughs  to  himself. So  what,  we  wonder,  is  Satoshi’s  ‘Jazz’?  That  he  naturally  fell  upon  this  musical  analogy  seems  entirely Â ďŹ tting,  for  there  is  most  deďŹ nitely  a  musical  quality  to  his  work  –  both  in  his  picture  book  illustrations  and  in  those  pieces  he  does,  as  he  puts  it,  for  fun.  It  is  these  that  end  up  on  the  walls  of  a  Tokyo  gallery,  annually,  through  November  and  December.  He  showed  us  a  selection  of  slides  as  well  as  sketches  and  smaller Â ďŹ nal  pieces  for  the  exhibition  this  year.  In  a  series  of  abstract  arrangements  of  colour  and  line  he  manages  somehow  to  conjure  the  quality  of  musical  harmonies  and  rhythms,  which  to  me  strike  a  chord  with  the  work  of  Wassily  Kandinsky  or  Matisse. So,  perhaps,  it  is  art.  It  seems  now  to  have  become  a  proper  art  form,  with  real  meaning  and  as  much  beauty  in  its  pages  as  you  could Â ďŹ nd  on  the  walls  of  any  gallery.  We  can  tell  you  one  thing  for  sure  anyway-  next  time  we’re  in  Waterstone’s,  you  can  keep  your  ‘Sister  Wendy’  and  your  tomes  on  art  theory  –  we’ll  be  heading  for  the  pic- ture  books.  After  all,  everyone  loves  a  good  story.
Event 11 The
Fashion
The Allure of More is More
T
he stand out stunner of Channel 4’s latest primetime export Lost has to be the aptly named Evangeline Lilly. The Canadian actress boasts a fresh and bare-faced beauty, and the fact that she has a rather fizzy mane, well its giving hope to big haired girls everywhere. So no doubt she’ll be increasing her fan base by letting Lost fans see her buried treasures,
right? Wrong. Evangeline is in fact as pure and fragrant as her moniker implies. She has taken a highly controversial step and told producers that she will not perform partially clothed or partake in any sex scenes. She has simply stated that she will not compromise her beliefs, and shed her clothes for a shred more fame. Bravely opposing the opinions of almost every other actress in her field, Evangeline may actually be judged on the size of her talent and nothing else. It seems that designers have also succumbed to a wave of subtlety. This season’s shapes will slide over curves, and displays of skin will be kept to a minimum. Victoriana blouses will mean necklines are much more about the collarbone than the cleavage. 1940s styles have also hit the high street. Double breasted jackets, slick, slimming pen- cil skirts and thick tights in swirly styles of lace and net bring wartime glamour to the fashion forefront. But there’s nothing asexual about Autumn 05, when every shape will make the figure of eight. Skirts will skim, blouses will billow, and well cut coats and slender boots will add a final touch of glamour. And even a waif can fake a waist in a thick leather belt or reams of silky ribbon tied in a beautiful bow. Keep your look neat and chic, with sleek locks twisted into buns or swinging from a smartly sculpted ponytail. Finally, accessorise with continued subtlety and snap up a sequined clutch and slick on some scarlet lips.
12
Event The
Fashion
Round  Round  Get  Around  I  Get  Around
5IJT UFSN BT XFMM BT HFUUJOH TPQIJTUJDBUFE XF MM CF HFUUJOH BSPVOE 'PS UIPTF XJUI B TUZMF UPP FDMFDUJD GPS UBJMPSFE HMBNPVS USZ GVO BOE GVOLZ MPPLT JO UIF TMJOLZ TQIFSFT -BVSB $PCC SVOT UISPVHI B GFX IBOEZ IJOUT GPS NBLJOH UIJT MPPL XPSL GPS ZPV
C
yclical  shapes  will  be  cited  everywhere,  from  oversized,  bulky  beads,  to  rounded  toe  heels  and  ats.  Pom  poms  are  strewn  on  everything.  Jumpers,  belts,  necklaces  and  bags  all  get  the  cheerleading  treat- ment.  Wear  with  care,  and  add  those  uffy  morsels  to  an  understated  outďŹ t.  And  who  thought  puffs  were  just  a  tasty  snack?  This  classic  cut  will  be  seen  on  the  shoulders  of  attering  cropped  jackets,  and  even  in  ouncy Â ďŹ tting  skirts  -  dare  to  dress  in  a  sexy  puff  ball  skirt  with  tights  and  sparkly  shoes.   Glitzing  and  glinting  is  the  only  way  to  catch  eyes  right  now.  Se-Â
L
quins  are  adding  light  to  dark  autumn  nights,  be  sure  to  sparkle  in  silver  circles  scattered  generously  on  scarves,  belts  and  shoes.  The  sequined  scarf  will  be  the  perfect  accessory  whether  dressing  up  or  down,  and  on  your  collar  or  your  curves.   Bid  bed-Âhead-Âhair  and  late-  for-Âlecture-Âlocks  goodbye,  as  the  perfect  hat  has  made  a  comeback.  Rounded  baker  boy  hats  are  hot  in  deep  hues  like  indigo  and  chocolate. Piles  of  pearls  are  also  a  great  way  to  decorate  your  neck.  Avoid  the  ladies  who  lunch  look,  by  adding  other  jewels  such  as  chunky  chains,  charms,  and  crosses. Make  the  most  of  the  brief  heat  and  look  hot  to  trot  in  polka  dots.  They  are  a  highly  attering  way  to  wear  this  seasons  shape. Â
R C
SATURDAY 12TH NOVEMBER tHE HOTTEST rNb & HIP-HOP
Event 13 The
TV
Primetime
Channel  4  Afternoons $IBOOFM QN FWFSZ XFFLEBZ Last  week  saw  the  return  of  two  perennial  student  favourites  to  Channel  4  –  Countdown  and  Noel  Edmonds.  The  channel  is  show- ing  Countdown  and  Edmonds’  new  program  every  weekday  after- noon  from  3.30pm-Â5pm  –  but  the  burning  question  is,  are  they  any  good? Countdown  has  started  again  after  a  three  month  absence,  due  to  the  unfortunate  death  of  the  popular  Richard  Whiteley.  It  was  revealed  only  a  few  weeks  ago  that  Des  Lynam  would  be  tak- ing  over,  a  decision  which  was  met  with  much  cynicism.  However,  Lynam  has  proved  to  be  just  as  good  at  friendly  banter  as  Whiteley  was  and,  in  just  a  few  episodes,  has  settled  into  the  role  well.  So,  what  about  the  show  itself?  Beyond  the  change  of  presenter,  noth- ing  else  has  changed  –  perhaps  unsurprisingly.  We  still  have  letters  and  numbers  rounds,  Carol  Vorderman,  Dictionary  Corner  and  the  infamous  timer  noises.  You  can  still  settle  down  after  a  lecture  and  test  your  intellectual  mettle  against  the  contestants.  Seeing  it  again  is  like  seeing  an  old  friend  after  a  few  months  apart  –  they  may  seem  a  bit  different  at Â ďŹ rst,  but  they’re  still  the  same  at  heart.  Or Â
Suds
:PVS EPTF PG TPBQ OFXT )PMMZPBLT Things  took  a  different  turn  this  week  on  Hollyoaks  and  seriousness  suddenly  reigned,  like  the  long  running  Justin  story  line  that  is Â ďŹ nally  seeing  some  action  due  to  his  trial.  Darlene  is  still  determined  to  tell  the  world  that  Ali  is  innocent  despite  Liz’s  best  efforts  at  convincing  the  police  that  she  is  an  unreliable  witness.  Becca  has  secretly  visited  Justin,  fuelling  him  with  hopes  that  maybe  his  love  for  her  is  not  un- requited,  which  has  created  a  bigger  divide  between  Becca  and  Jake.   Mandy  is  still Â ďŹ nding  it  hard  to  cope  with  her  new  baby  and  cannot  bring  herself  to  bond  with  it.  After  giving  birth  only  a  few  weeks  ago,  she  is  already  back  at  work  and  is  trying  as  hard  as  possible  to  forget  all  about  the  birth.  After  all  this  heavy  acting,  Zara  has  provided  us  with  a  bit  of  entertainment  this  week  as  she  landed  herself  a  date  with  Freddy  but  had  quite  a  lot  of  trouble  preparing  his  vegan  meal.  Once  again  the  trial  in  Hollyoaks  has  taken  centre  stage  this  week  but  it  will  be  well  worth  watching  to Â ďŹ nd  out  the Â ďŹ nal  fate  of  Justin  Burton. #FDLZ 3VUU /FJHICPVST What  could  be  better  than  a  good  old  Neighbours  wedding?  However,  one  person  was  unable  to  join  in  the  festivities  of  Sindi  and  Stu’s  spe- cial  day  -  Toadie  who  had  managed  to  knock  himself  unconscious  by  putting  on  a  pair  of  trousers  (which,  as  we  all  know,  is  a  very  hazard- ous  procedure).  He  did  wake  up  in  time  to  try  and  stop  the  ceremony;Íž  but  he  was  unable  to  convince  Stu  of  Sindi’s  dodgyness  and  they  got  married  anyway.  One  person  who  was  absent  from  the  wedding  was  Izzy,  whose  car  was  found  in  ‘the  bush’  with  questionable  blood  splats  on  the  seats  Paul  and  Karl  are  both  being  questioned.    Serena  continued  to  pine  over  Conner  and  things  really  began  to  heat  up  among  the  plastic  palm  trees  and  mannequins  in  the  bikini  shop  when  she  found  out  that  he  had  had  a  one-Ânight  ing  with  a  wedding  guest.  Additionally,  Dylan  made  up  for  the  fact  that  he  had  given  Sky  a  list  of  all  the  girls  he  had  slept  with  by  constructing  a  list  of  all  the  girls  he  had  ever  loved  with  only  her  name  on  it.  It  truly  was  a  heart-Âwarming  moment,  regardless  of  the  fact  that  he  was  dressed  up  as  a  Red  Indian. 3FCFDDB )VOU
14
Event The
some  other  equally  rubbish  metaphor.  Noel  Edmonds’  new  vehicle,  the  catchily  titled  Deal  Or  No  Deal,  is  pretty  weird.  22  contestants  are  stood  in  the  studio,  each  with  a  box.  Inside  each  box  is  one  denomination,  ranging  from  1p  through  to  £10,  £500  and  £75,000.  The  computer  randomly  selects  one  to  be  that  day’s  competitor,  who  then  moves  to  the  front.  This  competitor  picks  boxes  to  be  opened  to  see  what  they  have  in  theirs,  so  that  they  can  whittle  down  the  options  and  work  out  what’s  left  in  their  box,  which  they  will  then  win.  There  is  also  a  “bankerâ€?  who  phones  into  the  studio  to  offer  the  competitor  money  for  their  box  depending  on  the  amounts  that  are  still  in  unopened  boxes.  Still  with  me  at  the  back?  The  concept  is  strange,  to  say  the  least.  The  show’s  major  aw  is  that  it  simply  works  on  luck  –  the  person  chosen  on  that  day  may  have  the  1p  box,  or  they  may  have  the  £75,000  box.  This  means  that  you’re  simply  watching  the  process  of  elimination,  rather  than  a  person’s  general  knowl- edge  being  tested,  which  makes  it  pretty  boring.  Edmonds  does  his  best  Chris  Tarrant  impressions  to  pad  it  out  (such  as  taking  advert Â
breaks  before  important  things  are  revealed),  but  it’s  ultimately  a  bit  tedious.  The  now  legendary  House  Party  presenter  makes  it  bearable,  even  if  simply  for  the  novelty  value.  It’s  great  to  have  this  pair  back  on  TV  –  they’re  as  much  a  part  of  our  student  lives  as  rushed  essays,  the  LCR  and  lie-Âins.  It’s  a  perfect  line-Âup  for  a  lazy  afternoon  in  and  one  that  Channel  4  will  hopefully  keep  for  the  remainder  of  the  university  year. $ISJT )ZEF
TV Â DVD
.S #FBO 7PMVNF b 3FMFBTFE Ah,  Mr  Bean.  Who  can  hold  their  hand  up  and  truthfully  say  that  they  didn’t  like  him  when  he  was  on  TV  back  in  the  nineties?  Rowan  Atkinson’s  simple-Âminded  creation  is  a  joy  to  watch  and  the  gentle  humour  of  the  three  episodes  on  this  DVD  will  take  any  student  back  to  their  youth,  when  silent  comedy  was  actually  funny. Included  on  this  DVD  are  three  early  episodes  –  The  Trouble  With  Mr  Bean  (in  which  he  goes  to  the  dentist  and  visits  the  park),  The  Curse  Of  Mr  Bean  (where  he  goes  swimming  and  to  the  cin- ema)  and  Mr  Bean  Goes  To  Town  (where  he  buys  a  new  TV  and  takes  his  girlfriend  to  a  disco,  dating  it  somewhat)  –  as  well  as  a Â ďŹ ve-Âminute  long  episode  of  the  Mr  Bean  animated  series.  Unfor- tunately,  this  is  all,  which  does  seem  a  little  meagre  for  a  full  price  DVD;Íž  especially  considering  other  TV  DVDs,  such  as  the  Red  Dwarf  releases. However,  the  episodes  that  are  here  are  hilarious.  The  scene  in  which  Bean  eats  his  lunch  next  to  Angus  Deayton’s  businessman  is  brilliant,  as  he  unpacks  the  ingredients  for  his  meal  from  his  person  –  sardines,  lettuce  and  bread,  for  example,  are  all  hidden  in  various  pockets.  The  trip  to  the  dentist  (played  by  Richard  Wilson)  is  a  clas- sic  scene,  as  Bean  anaesthetises  the  dentist,  cleans  his  teeth  and Â
coats  them  in  glue.  The  drive  to  the  dentist  is  fantastic  too,  as  he  gets  dressed  in  his  green  Mini  while  driving.  One  thing  that  does  strike  the  viewer,  watching  it  with  more  world  knowledge  than  ten  years  ago,  is  that  Mr  Bean  is  clearly  men- tally  impaired.  Some  of  the  things  he  does,  such  as  pouring  water  on  a  school  kid’s  lap  so  that  he  can  read  the  boy’s  comic  book,  are  not  things  a  fully  capable  adult  would  do,  and,  while  it’s  as  funny  now  as  when  we  were  innocent  children,  it  does  feel  a  bit  like  laugh- ing  at  the  disabled.  Despite  this,  Bean  is  presented  in  a  slightly  sympathetic  light  and  is  a  complete  contrast  to  today’s  comedy,  in  which  the  mentally  disabled  are  mocked  –  such  as  Little  Britain’s  Anne. If  you  fancy  a  DVD  that  reminds  you  of  growing  up  and  want  a  change  from  Trap  Door,  Danger  Mouse  and  Count  Duckula  (to  name  three  classic  shows  from  our  childhood),  then  this  is  worth  checking  out.  Bear  in  mind  the  limited  content  on  offer,  however  -  with  13  episodes  of  Mr  Bean  in  total,  and  three  per  DVD  release,  there’ll  be  a  few  more  full  price  releases  if  you  want  to  complete  the  set.  $ISJT )ZEF
Telly  Classics .POUZ 1ZUIPO T 'MZJOH $JSDVT Almost  every  student  will  be  familiar  with  the  utter  insanity  that  is  ‘Monty  Python’  -  the  mere  mention  of  its  name  still  automatically  causes  some  people  to  sing  about  cross-Âdressing  lumberjacks,  de- velop  an  incurable  silly  walk  or  hold  long  talks  about  dead  parrots. ‘Monty  Python’  consisted  of  John  Cleese,  Eric  Idle,  Michael  Pa- lin,  Terry  Jones,  Graham  Chapman  and  Terry  Gilliam.  The  sketches  that  made  up  each  episode  were  a  mixture  of  live-Âaction  and  surreal  animation  and  were  completely  unlike  anything  that  had  been  on  TV  before.  ‘Monty  Python’  also  did  not  ensure  that  every  episode  had  a  beginning,  middle  and  end  as  earlier  comedies  had  done.  In- stead  the  sketches  often  ran  on  into  each  other,  or  Chapman  would  enter  dressed  in  military  garb  and  stop  the  actors  if  they  were  being  ‘too  silly’.
Although  some  ‘Monty  Python’  sketches  are  just  not  funny,  many  of  them  remain  incredibly  popular  today  due  to  their  sheer  randomness.  One  sketch  featured  a  cafĂŠ  full  of  Vikings  singing  about  spam;Íž  another  had  Cleese  teaching  a  class  entitled  ‘Self-ÂDe- fence  Against  Fresh  Fruit’.  Part  of  the  reason  why  the  sketches  are  so  funny  is  because  you  never  know  what  will  happen  at  the  end.  It  is  possible  that  a  highwayman  will  arrive  to  steal  lupins  from  the  rich  to  give  to  the  poor  or  that  a  16-Âton  weight  will  kill  the  cast. ‘Monty  Python’s  Flying  Circus’  is  something  that  every  student  should  see.  Its  cult  following  is  well  deserved  due  to  its  uniqueness  and  how  quotablity.  These  reasons  are  possibly  why  ‘NOBODY  ex- pects  the  Spanish  Inquisition’. ,JN %ZFS
Art
Theatre
The  History  Boys 5IFBUSF 3PZBM 5VFTEBZ UI 4BUVSEBZ UI 0DUPCFS It  is  the  undercurrent  of  school  politics  that  is  the  strength  of  this  production.  The  students  and  teachers  wade  through  the  complex- ity  of  written  rules,  spoken  rules  and  unspoken  rules  that  often  muddle  rather  than  moderate  school  life.  Desmond  Barrit’s  presentation  of  the  eccentric  but  inspirational  Hector  mediates  the  line  between  humour  and  moving  sentiment  well.  The  emotionally  weighted  scene  involving  the  dissection  of  the  Hardy  poem  Drummer  Hodge  was  beautifully  done,  stirring  up  empathy  for  Hector’s  stance  on  education  as  well  as  re-Âenforcing  the  ambivalence  surrounding  his  less  than  kosher  behaviour.  To- bias  Menzies,  though  not  playing  a  role  that  best  showcases  his  undeniable  talent,  was  a  credibly  awkward  and  amusing  Irwin.  Men- zies  resisted  the  urge  to  overplay  the  comedy  of  Irwin’s  spiel  for  a  historical  documentary  series,  instead  letting  it  emerge  organically  from  the  ridiculously  contrarian  attitude  of  the  character  to  great  success.    Bruce  Alexander’s  characterisation  of  the  uptight,  results  obsessed  Headmaster  is  consistent  but  does  not  have  the  edge  of  Barrit  or  Menzies.  Diane  Fletcher  should  be  commended  for  her  perform- ance  as  teacher  Mrs  Linnot,  whose  inclusion  as  the  only  female  character  of  any  signiďŹ cance  appears  token  on  Bennett’s  part.   It  is  the  teachers’  attempts  to  negotiate  staff  room  relations  which  make  the  pupil-Âteacher  dynamics  so  engaging.  The  boys  themselves  are  an  entity  rather  than  individuals  who  evoke  any  particular  response  with  one  or  two  exceptions.  This,  however,  is  a  comment  on  the Â
nature  of  the  script  rather  than  on  the  acting  which  is  difďŹ cult  to  fault.  Pupil  Lockwood,  played  by  former  UEA  Drama  student  Matt  Smith,  kept  the  side  up  despite  this  limited  room  for  character  de- velopment.  The  staging  is  effective  but  the  use  of Â ďŹ lm  to  cover  the  scene  changes  proved  distracting  at  times.  Overall,  an  animated  presentation  of  a  1980s  Grammar  School. .FMBOJF 4QFODFS
Bestsellers 1 Â 5IF 1FOVMUJNBUF 1FSJM
Lemony  Snicket  £7.99    Bloomsbury
2  +BNJF T *UBMZ Jamie  Oliver   £6.99    Corgi  Adult
3  6OUPME 4UPSJFT Alan  Bennett  £6.99    Abacus
4  5IF 4IBEPX PG UIF 8JOE Carlos  Ruiz  Zafon     £6.99    Penguin
5  (VJOFTT 8PSME 3FDPSET  £6.99    Corgi  Adult
6  5IF 8PSME "DDPSEJOH UP $MBSLTPO Jeremy  Clarkson   £7.99    Vintage
7  .BSHSBWF PG UIF .BSTIFT John  Peel,  Sheila  Ravenscraft   £6.99    Time  Warner  Paper- backs
8  5IVE Terry  Pratchett  Ebury  Press
9  The  Da  Vinci  Code Dan  Brown£7.99    Vintage
10  4DPUMBOE 4USFFU Alexander  Mcall-ÂSmith  £8.99    BBC  Books =
Books 5IF 0EF -FTT 5SBWFMMFE 4UFQIFO 'SZ Stephen  Fry  has Â ďŹ nally  come  out  of  the  closet.  The  poetry-Âwriting  closet,  that  is.  His  new  book  on  how  to  master  the  basics  of  writing  poetry  will  come  as  a  surprise  to  many  who  may  know  him  chiey  as  a  comic  writer  and  performer.  This  is  a  serious  work  which  makes  many  thought-Âprovoking  points,  al- though  Fry’s  unmistakeable  wit  does  peek  through  fairly  frequently,  making  the  book  a  delightful  and  entertaining,  yet  educational,  read.  Fry’s  own  mastery  of  language  is  evident  throughout:  he  makes  an  extremely  convincing  argument  for  the  pleasure  that  can  be  derived  from  writing  poetry  and  the  validity  of  using  form  and  metre.  One  of  the  things Â
he  emphasises  most  is  that  form  and  metre  need  not  be  out-Âdated  modes  of  verse  and  can  be  used  in  inno- vative  ways.  His  explanations  of  prosody  are  simple  enough  to  grasp  without  being  patronising,  and  the  exercises  are  fun  and  will  not  only  help  you  with  your  writing  of  poetry,  but  your  reading  of  it  too. Fry’s  aim  is  not  to  teach  us  how  to  read  poetry,  but  inevitably  one  becomes  more  attuned  to  the  nuances  of  language  and  understands  more  about  the  art  of  versiďŹ cation,  so  reading  poetry  then  becomes  all  the  more  rewarding.  $IBSMFOF 1SJDF
4IBMJNBS 5IF $MPXO 4BMNBO 3VTIEJF Salman  Rushdie  has  achieved  more  than  most  in  his  life.  So  could  almost  be  excused  for  forgetting  that  the  Anglo-ÂIndian  is  one  of  the  greatest  contemporary  novelists  of  our  time.  Huge  excitement  surrounded  Rushdie’s  visit  to  UEA  to  celebrate  the  publication  of  his  new  novel,  Shali- mar  the  Clown.  The  writer  famed  for  his  magical  real- ist  works,  such  as  ‘Midnight’s  Children’  and  ‘Satanic  Verses’,  spoke  wryly  to  a  packed  audience  about  the  recent  demands  of  his  latest  world  publicity  tour.  Shalimar  the  Clown  is  set  largely  in  Kashmir,  de- scribed  in  the  preface  as  “a  ruined  paradise,  not  so  much  lost  as  smashed.â€?  This  is  where  Rushdie  expe- rienced  much  of  his  upbringing.  The  novel  explores  the  region’s  vast  culture  and  beauty,  whilst  underlin-Â
ing  the  tragedy  of  volatile  sectarianism  and  a  strong  tradition  for  terrorism,  which  pervades  the  area.  Such  sensitive  topics  are  touched  upon  with  notable  paro- dy  of  Indian-ÂPakistani  relations  in  the  novel.  With  ripe  satire  also  heaped  upon  Western  and  Eastern  govern- ments,  Rushdie  was  quick  to  point  out  that  serious- ness  and  comedy  were  intertwined  in  his  characteris- tically  unpredictable  style  of  writing.  Yet  at  the  same  time  he  emphasised  the  novel’s  heartbreaking  impli- cations,  describing  Kashmir  as  “a  tragedy  in  world  terms.â€?  Critics  disagree  whether  Shalimir  the  Clown  is  a  return  to  form  for  Rushdie  –  but  the  former  Book- er  Prize  winner  remains  as  controversial  as  ever.  #FO #BSVDI
Event 15 The
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Kicking  off  with  a  ‘once  upon  a  time’  and  then  immediately  adding  a  date  to  the  title,  The  Brothers  Grimm  makes  a  spirited  attempt  to  mix  and  oppose  the  time-Âhonoured  codes  of  magical  fairytales  with  the  more  down-Âto-Âearth  concerns  of  realist  period  storytell- ing.  Its  two  heroes,  Will  and  Jake  (the  Grimm  brothers),  recreate  clichĂŠd  horror  scenes  for  a  living,  setting  up  fake  supernatural  oc-Â
currences  which  they  then  ‘exorcise’  for  the  village  folk  at  a  set  rate.  Human-Âmade  monsters  soon  give  way  to  the  real  thing  of  course,  but  the Â ďŹ lm  retains  a  measure  of  irony  in  Will  and  Jake,  who  keep  up  a  conspicuously  modern  commentary  on  proceedings  (Will  re- fers  to  himself  and  his  brother  as  ‘Team  Grimm’;Íž  Jake  later  notes  how  the  ‘years  have  not  been  kind’  to  a  500-Âyear-Âold  child-Âstealing  mirror  queen).  Aside  from  the  fact  that  post-Âmodern  fairytales  are  pretty  much  old  hat  these  days  (Shrek  and  its  sequel  conducted  a  com- prehensive  send-Âup  of  all  things  Grimm  a  few  years  ago,  and  with  far  more  wit  and  vigour  than  that  on  display  here),  The  Brothers  Grimm  falls  down  on  a  hackneyed,  rambling  narrative  that  only  sporadically  engages,  and  excites  even  less  frequently.  After  estab- lishing  the  brothers  as  experienced  pseudo-Âghostbusters,  the Â ďŹ lm  has  them  delve  into  a  mysterious  forest  where  they  aim  to  trace  the  cause  of  a  spate  of  child  disappearances  in  a  local  village.  As  they  battle  their  way  through  a  series  of  familiarly  creepy  creatures  –  a  giant  wolf,  a  crazed  gingerbread  man,  a  wicked  queen  –  the  duo  gradually  get  to  the  root  of  the  problem,  all  the  time  bickering  with  each  other  and  vying  for  the  affections  of  a  beautiful  forest  hunter,  Angelika.  This  sort  of  thing  should  be  fertile  ground  for  Terry  Gilliam,  who  has  a  splendid  track  record  for  darkly  comic  fantasy,  and  there  are  moments  when  The  Brothers  Grimm  at  least  threatens  to  bloom  into  something  recognisably  Gilliamesque.  Some  sequences  of Â
muddy  village  life  have  an  absurd,  class-Âaware  Monty  Python  and  the  Holy  Grail  ring  to  them.  Jonathan  Pryce,  so  wonderfully  edgy  in  Gilliam’s  Brazil,  does  a  good  job  as  the  gleefully  snooty  Napo- leonic  lord.  But  the  most  intriguing  elements  are  generally  edged  out  to  the  margins,  leaving  centre-Âstage  to  two  good  humoured  but  uninspired  performances  by  Matt  Damon  and  Heath  Ledger,  a  bunch  of  unfortunately  CGI-Âed  monsters,  and  a  succession  of  predictable  –  though  admittedly  gorgeous  –  large-Âscale  sets.  Gilliam  has  been  outspoken  about  the  limitations  imposed  on  him  from  above,  which  included  some  pushy  intervention  from  producers  Bob  and  Harvey  Weinstein  (who,  amongst  other  things,  vetoed  Samantha  Morton  for  the  female  lead  in  favour  of  Lena  Headey  –  just  about  the  pick  for  worst  performance),  and  a  script  from  genre  hand  Ehren  Kruger,  which  was  later  extensively  rewrit- ten  by  Gilliam  and  Tony  Grisoni.  The  Bothers  Grimm  was  always  going  to  be  a  mainstream  movie  (the  budget  was  $75  million),  but  few  could  have  expected  a Â ďŹ lm  so  muddied  with  compromise  from  the  director  who  produced  such  an  audacious  Hollywood  hit  as  Twelve  Monkeys.  Perhaps  Gilliam  will  have  learnt  a  thing  or  two  in  preparation  for  his  next  mainstream  outing,  but  for  now  heads  are  turning  to  the  personal  project  Tidelands,  completed  in  a  break  in  The  Brothers  Grimm’s  arduous  production.  It  may  turn  out  to  be  the  best  thing  to  emerge  from  the  whole  affair. 4FC .BOMFZ
Other  screens *O )FS 4IPFT %JS $VSUJT )BOTPO 3FMFBTFE
4BX %JS %BSSFO #PVTNBO 3FMFBTFE
A  resolutely  unglamorous  melodrama,  despite  the  presence  of  Cam- eron  Diaz  as  a  hardly-Âdressed  playgirl,  In  Her  Shoes  sees  Curtis  Hanson  step  out  of  the  indie  groove  he  dug  for  himself  with  L.A.  ConďŹ dential  and  Wonder  Boys  in  favour  of  another  mainstream  ex- cursion.  Next  to  the  sublime  theatrics  of  2002’s  8  Mile,  proceedings  here  are  slow  and  quite  modest,  although  there  is  much  to  admire.  Toni  Collette’s  generous  performance  as  the  dowdy  half  of  a  devoted  –  though  warring  –  sibling  duo  is  the Â ďŹ lm’s  central  support,  allowing  Diaz’s  Maggie  to  perform  an  entertaining  transition  from  slobbish  dependency,  through  self-Âdiscovery,  and  on  to  triumphant  self-Âsuf-Â ďŹ ciency.  The  central  love/hate  relationship  is  a  well-Âworn  motif  for  sure,  but  Hanson  keeps  a  light  touch  to  the  end:  ‘We’re  like  Sonny  and  Cher’  says  Maggie  in  a  tender  reconciliation  with  her  sister,  when  she  is  reminded  that  that  particular  partnership  split  up.  ‘Yes’,  replies  Maggie,  ‘but  they  remained  quite  close’.   4FC .BOMFZ
Saw  II  is  the  ‘Crystal  Maze’  set  in  Hell:  in  the Â ďŹ rst  scene  a  man  locked  in  a  room  has  to  gouge  out  his  own  eye  before  the  time  runs  out,  or  else  he  dies.  After  the  gore-Âfest  of  Saw  this  wasn’t  surprising.  Un- fortunately  this Â ďŹ lm  falls  very  short  of  its  predecessor.  As  before  the  women  are  feisty,  the  men  brooding  and  macho  and  there  is  plenty  of  ashy  camera  work  –  but  there  is  entirely  no  suspense,  just  people  being  tortured.  Rather  than  supporting  the  plot,  the  violence  is  the  plot.  There  is  some  attempt  to  make  a  comment  on  life  and  death  and  all  things  deep  but  this Â ďŹ lm  turns  out  to  have  about  as  depth  as  a  puddle  -  the  audience  is  not  so  much  moved  or  scared  by  the  grue- some  violence  as  disturbed.  If  there  is  any  horror  in  this Â ďŹ lm  it  comes  from  the  questions  the  audience  ask  themselves:  ‘what  is  wrong  with  me?  Why  the  hell  am  I  watching  this!’ .JLF $VNFT
4PQIJF 4DIPMM %JS .BSL 3PUIFNVOE 3FMFBTFE Once  again  this  year,  after  the  excellent  Downfall,  we  have  been  given  the  chance  to  view  the  true  history  of  Nazi  Germany.  In  this  case,  we  witness  the  show  trial  of  student  resistance  leader  Sophie  Scholl  (Julia  Jentsch),  based  on  the  transcripts  of  her  interrogation  by  Nazi  ofďŹ cer  Robert  Mohr  (Gerald  Held).  In  much  of  the Â ďŹ lm,  we  witness  the  back-Âand-Âforth  between  these  two  characters,  as  they  argue  about  the  Nazi  government,  its  policies  and  its  achievements.  Scholl  is  played  as  an  admirable  and  fearless  leader,  and  we  are  drawn  in  to  this  heated  debate.  Mohr  gives  a  good  account,  but  obviously  we  are  more  attracted  to  Scholl  and  her  beliefs.  The  rest  of  the  cast  is  excel- lent,  with  the  exception  of  magistrate  Dr  Roland  Freisler,  who  goes  too  far  as  a  Nazi  stereotype.  But  the  powerful Â ďŹ nal  act  leaves  a  lasting  impression,  and  one  cannot  help  but  be  inspired  by  this  true  heroine  of  history. "OEZ +VETPO
16
Event The
&MJ[BCFUIUPXO %JS $BNFSPO $SPXF 3FMFBTFE Elizabethtown  follows  the  life  of  Drew  Baylor  (Orlando  Bloom)  as  he  tries  to  come  to  terms  with  the Â â€˜ďŹ asco’  of  losing  $972  million  for  his  employers.  His  father’s  death  brings  him  back  from  the  brink  of  suicide  and  takes  him  on  a  journey  of  self-Âdiscovery,  purpose  and  romance.  While  Bloom  is  funny,  he  is  not  outstanding.  Kirsten  Dunst  steals  the  show  in  her  role  as  the  southern  air-Âhostess  Claire,  bring- ing  warmth  and  human  emotion  to  the  movie,  traits  that  Bloom  lacks,  even  though  it  is  his  best  role  to  date.  Susan  Sarandon  is  as  good  as  ever,  playing  Drew’s  recently  widowed  mother  who  takes  advantage  of  her  new  independence,  and  Loudon  Wainwright  III  turns  in  an  en- tertaining  performance  as  Uncle  Dale.  Director  Crowe  strongly  grips  the  theme  of  death  and  mourning,  but  touches  it  with  almost  absurd  comedy,  with  moments  that  will  make  you  both  cry  and  laugh,  creat- ing  a  charming  human  drama.  The Â ďŹ lm  is  not  for  everyone,  and  if  you  hate  excessively  sentimental  movies,  Elizabethtown  is  not  for  you. /BUBTIB ,VOEBJLFS
&MJ[BCFUIUPXO
Film
DVD  Releases *SPO %JS ,JN ,J EVL 3FMFBTFE CZ 0QUJNVN )PNF &OUFSUBJONFOU Kim  Ki-Âduk’s  philosophical  ghost-Âromance  takes  its  title  from  a  type  of  golf  club,  although  it  contains  nothing  so  routine  as  a  golďŹ ng  con- test.  3-ÂIron  is  sumptuously  dreamlike  and  oblique,  with  a  strongly  allegorical  undertow.  The  mysterious  protagonist  Tae-Âsuk  is  a  lone- some  drifter,  who  breaks  into  houses  while  the  owners  are  away,  carries  out  minor  repairs,  and  leaves  before  he  is  discovered.  When  Tae-Âsuk  comes  across  a  beautiful  girl  during  a  break-Âin,  and  ‘rescues’  her  from  an  abusive  husband,  the Â ďŹ lm  draws  out  a  beautiful  wordless  romance  between  the  two,  as  they  house-Âhop  on  the  run.  Later  se- quences  drift  into  a  more  stylised  magic-Ârealist  mode  (Tae-Âsuk  learn- ing  to  become  ‘invisible’  in  his  prison  cell  is  one  absurd  and  brilliant  spectacle),  and  the  visuals  and  performances  here  are  hardly  less  than  exquisite  –  but  its  hard  to  shake  the  feeling  that  following  the  austere  meditation  of  Spring,  Summer,  Autumn,  Winter‌and  Spring,  Kim  Ki-Âduk  is  indulging  for  the Â ďŹ rst  time  in  whimsy.  4FC .BOMFZ
8BS PG UIF 8PSMET 4QFDJBM &EJUJPO %JS 4UFQIFO 4QJFMCFSH 3FMFBTFE CZ 1BSBNPVOU )PNF &OUFSUBJONFOU It  may  lose  some  impact  on  the  small  screen,  but  Spielberg’s  inter- pretation  of  the  H.G.  Wells  sci-ÂďŹ Â classic  is  still  compulsive  viewing.  From  the  man  who  invented  the  blockbuster  summer  movie  we’re  on  familiar  territory:  broken  family  experiences  the  incredible,  and  the  drama  subsequently  plays  out  against  a  backdrop  of  jaw-Âdropping  spectacle.  But  be  warned:  this  is  a  dark,  nasty  and  shockingly  realistic  vision.  Forget  the  wise-Âcracks  of  Independence  Day,  or  the  beautiful  styling  of  Signs.  This  alien  invasion  carries  chilling  references  to  9/11  which  means  there  is  little  fun  to  be  had,  and  certainly  no  heroes.  The Â ďŹ rst  hour  is  terrifying;Íž  a  relentless  attack  on  the  senses  that  is  one  of  the  most  tightly  controlled  segments  the  director  has  produced.  But  it  does  go  astray  in  the  second  act,  and  the  terriďŹ c  tension  built  up  is  lost  as  the  family  drama  takes  over.  But  Tom  Cruise  is  wonderful,  and  if  nothing  else  the  sound  of  the  Tripods  will  haunt  you  for  weeks‌ 3JDIBSE #PBLFT
Cinefile N o 61 .
Naked  Lunch
5IF "MNPEPWBS $PMMFDUJPO 7PM 4VNNFS 4UPSN %JS .BSDP ,SFV[QBJOUOFS %JS 1FESP "MNPEPWBS 3FMFBTFE 3FMFBTFE CZ 1BSBTPM 1FDDBEJMMP A Â ďŹ lm  with  a  narrative  that  displays  the  complexities  of  growing  up  CZ 0QUJNVN )PNF &OUFSUBJONFOU For  anyone  introduced  to  Almodovar’s  work  through  recent  outings  Talk  to  Her  and  Bad  Education,  the  punky,  Pop  Art-Âinected  contents  of  this  box-Âset  may  come  as  something  of  a  shock.  Three  out  of  the  Spanish  director’s Â ďŹ rst  four  features  are  here,  including  Pepi,  Luci,  Bom,  an  unblinking  study  of  late  70s  Madrid’s  post-ÂFranco  youth  cul- ture,  and  What  Have  I  Done  to  Deserve  This?,  a  crazed  dysfunctional  family  comedy.  All  of  the Â ďŹ lms  share  a  predication  for  intrusive  musi- cal  scores,  strangely  warped  noir  conventions,  and  outrageous  John  Waters-Âstyle  sexual  humour,  but  only  Women  on  the  Verge  of  a  Nerv- ous  Breakdown  (the  latest  work  here,  from  1988)  boasts  the  brilliantly  stylised  colour  palette  to  be  found  in  the  more  recent  works. 4FC .BOMFZ
from  a  gay  perspective  might  not  usually  appeal  to  a  wide  audience.  However,  this  is  a Â ďŹ lm  that’s  easy  to  like.  Summerstorm  is  a  German Â ďŹ lm  that  follows  two  friends  Tobi  and  Achim  in  competition.  They  both  have  girlfriends  but  Tobi  seems  more  attracted  to  Achim.  His  feelings  are  further  compounded  when  the  opposite  team  (who  are  all  gay)  arrives,  one  of  whom  becomes  friendly  with  Tobi.  As  the Â ďŹ lm  progresses,  one  begins  to  feel  his  pain  and  anguish  about  his  pre- dicament.  This  is  partly  due  to  Robert  Stadlober  (Tobi)  who  gives  a  performance  of  real  conviction  and  realism.  This  is  a  simple  story  but  a  fascinating  one;Íž  it  displays  some  of  the  dilemmas  teens  have  to  put  up  with  because  of  their  sexuality  and  also  the  ignorance  of  people  towards  it.  As  such  it’s  worth  watching  despite  being  about  rowing!  4FBO 0 4IFB
Special  Feature Part  Time  Work %JS .BUUIFX 0BLMFZ 5PN /FMTPO
Documentary  making  is  currently  bigger  business  than  it  has  ever  been,  but  it  still  remains  one  of  the  best  ways  into Â ďŹ lm  for  low- budget Â ďŹ rst-Âtime  directors.  Part  Time  Work  is  an  hour  long  mock- documentary  put  together  by  local Â ďŹ lmmakers  Matthew  Oakley  and  Tom  Nelson  –  credited  only  as  Robert  E.  Park  on  the  DVD  –  for  a  very  small  amount  of  money,  over  the  period  of  a  few  months.  It  tracks  the  progress  (or  lack  thereof)  of  a  trio  of  self-Âstyled  progres- sive  artists  as  they  go  about  building  their  careers:  Gavin  Britt  is  an  unpublished  writer  who  cannot  break  free  of  the  inuence  of  ‘the  grand  master  of  excitement’  Clive  Cussler;Íž  Chris  Huxford  makes  socially-Âconscious  music  with  a  guitar,  a  reverser,  and  a  selection  of  paint  pots  (sample  lyrics:  ‘drugs  and  heroine;Íž  forced  on  our  chil- dren;Íž  police  can’t  save  them;Íž  too  busy  harassing;Íž  society’s  artists;Íž  the  ones  that  can  save  us’);Íž  and  Dean  Packet  is  a  amateur Â ďŹ lmmak- er  who  secures  funding  for  his  paranoid  thrillers  from  a  TV  betting  channel  called  Virtua  Horse.  The  three  main  characters  are  naturally  and  pitiably  funny  be- cause,  like  Alan  Partridge  and  various  residents  of  That  Peter  Kay  Thing,  their  perceptions  of  themselves  are  so  ludicrously  at  odds  with  their  actual  positions  in  life.  Gavin,  whose  writing  we  never  see,  puts  his  not  being  published  down  to  a  lack  of  ‘daring’  at  the  publishing  house;Íž  we  later Â ďŹ nd  out  the  novel  he  submitted  was  a  Clive  Cussler  copy  with  the  title  changed.  Dean,  an  aspiring  rock  prophet,  has  trouble  hitting  his  own  songs’  notes.  The  naturalistic Â
performances  here  –  drawing  on  almost  entirely  improvised  dia- logue  –  make  for  agonising  and  frequently  hilarious  viewing,  but  it’s  hard  not  to  feel  a  little  sympathy  for  such  devoted  artist-Âoutsiders,  however  deluded  they  are.  When  the Â ďŹ lm  does  allow  its  characters  a  bit  of  genuine  pathos,  as  in  the  wordless  montage  of  Chris  playing  football  with  his  son,  it  comes  off  wonderfully. As  a  spoof  documentary,  Part  Time  Work’s  form  is  appropri- ately  straightforward,  with  the  mixture  of  talking  heads  and  static  ‘performance’  shots  occasionally  broken  up  by  inserts  of  Dean’s Â ďŹ lms  (his  magnum  opus,  Moving  Target,  is  an  All  The  President’s  Men-Âish  conspiracy  thriller  played  out  in  the  empty  car  parks  of  Norwich).  The  editing  sometimes  seems  awkward,  but  it  hardly  distracts  from  the  inspired  dialogue,  delivered  as  top-Ânotch  David  Brent-Âstyle  ramblings:  ‘though  he  hasn’t  actually  read  anything  I’ve  written’,  says  Gavin,  ‘my  friend  says  that  the  stuff  I  talk  about  doing  sounds  very  similar  to  the  stuff  he  reads  on  the  back  of  the  Clive  Cussler  books  he  buys  in  charity  shops  -  that’s  praise.’  It’s  not  hard  to  imagine  material  this  good  stretching  to Â ďŹ ll  a  series  –  in  any  case  it  bodes  well  for  the  sequel,  already  in  the  can  and  planned  for  a  DVD  release  in  December. 1BSU 5JNF 8PSL JT BWBJMBCMF PO %7% GSPN UIF NVTJD TIPQ 1SFTT UP 1MBZ 4U #FOFEJDUT 4USFFU /PSXJDI
A/BLFE -VODI IBT B CJU PG B T &VSPQFBO QPSO SJOH UP JUy Nothing  so  straightforward.  David  Cronenberg’s  1991  adaptation  of  William  S.  Burroughs’  ‘unďŹ lmable’  cult  novel  of  the  same  name  is  a  hallucinatory,  grisly  affair,  made  with  little  regard  for  the  comforting  cues  of  conventional  storytelling.  The  surface  plot  has  New  York  bug  exterminator  Bill  Lee  (Peter  Weller)  tumble  into  a  noir-Âish  world  of  government  agents  and  drug  hauls  –  but  the  line  between  hazardous  reality  and  paranoid  fantasy  is  a  faint  and  permeable  one.
4P XIBU QBTTFT GPS FYDJUFNFOU JO #JMM T XPSME Bill  kicks  back  after  a  hard  day’s  exterminating  with  a  quick  shot  of  bug-Âpowder,  to  which  he  quickly  becomes  addicted,  and  experiences  nightmarish  hallucinations  involving  giant  talking  beetles.  On  the  in- structions  of  his  ‘spyforce  controller’  bug,  Bill  takes  to  the  streets  of  Interzone  (a  foreign  city  based  on  Tangier),  where  he  confronts  an  underground  network  of  drug-Âdeals,  prostitution,  assassination,  and  mutant  reptile  farming.
)PX TUSBOHF 8IBU T TUPQQJOH UIF XIPMF UIJOH GSPN DPMMBQTJOH JOUP B NFTT PG JODPNQSFIFOTJCMF XFJSEOFTT At  a  casual  glance,  not  a  lot.  But  Cronenberg’s  dream-Âlike  vision  is  actually  quite  precise,  and  even  distant,  despite  its  unnerving  gallery  of  grotesques.  The  ‘body  horror’  of  previous Â ďŹ lms  The  Fly,  Scanners,  and  Shivers  is  largely  absent,  replaced  with  a  searching  investigation  into  creativity  and  the  writing  process,  as  embodied  by  Bill  –  part  Burroughs  alter-Âego,  part  Cronenbergian  artist-Âhero  in  the  tradition  of  Dead  Ringers’  Mantle  brothers,  eXistenZ’s  Allegra  Geller,  and  Spi- der’s  Dennis  Cleg.  Set  in  the  speciďŹ c  milieu  of  1950’s  US  literary  beat  culture,  the Â ďŹ lm  looks  at  the  artist  as  a  self-Âdestructive,  solipsistic Â ďŹ gure;Íž  Bill’s  solution  to  the  writers  block  he  is  experiencing  in  the  ‘real’  world  is  to  ‘exterminate  all  rational  thought’  and  retreat  into  his  unconscious. Â
)PX EP UIF BDUPST EFBM XJUI UIFJS ESFBN GBOUBTZ IJTUPSJDBM mHVSF SPMFT Through  a  combination  of  blankness  and  superbly  wry  dialogue-Âde- livery.  Ian  Holm  (as  a  rival  ‘agent’)  is  especially  good  at  this  sort  of  thing,  but  Peter  Weller  and  Judy  Davies  deliver  chillingly  droll  per- formances,  and  Roy  Scheider  even  pops  up  as  a  smarmy  doctor  with  a  line  in  latex  face  disguises.     Â
4FC .BOMFZ
Event 17 The
Music
Alanis  Morissette Golden   Sounds The  Collection #MVS 1BSLMJGF
Parklife  is  arguably  the  album  that  kickstarted  and  deďŹ ned  the  entire  Britpop  movement,  as  well  as  being  the  best  album  of  Blur’s  career.  Spawning  several  classic  singles  (Girls  and  Boys,  Parklife  and  End  of  a  Century  are  all  on  here),  Parklife  can  be  described  as  a  loose  concept  album  about  life  in  mid-Ânineties  London,  portraying  a  city  of  cross- dressing  civil  servants,  little  boy  racers,  Club  18-Â30  holidays  and  binge  drinking.  Despite  the  laddish  image  given  by  the  singles,  there  is  a  lot  of  interesting  music  on  here,  such  as  the  brass  band-Âled  stomp  of  The  Debt  Collector  and  the  blisteringly  fast  punk  Bank  Holiday.  The  best  songs,  however,  are  the  tear-Âjerking  ballads  about  the  end  of  a  relationship,  such  as  Badhead  (possibly  the  best  thing  Damon  Albarn  has  ever  written)  and  To  the  End.  The  most  emotional  song  on  here  is  easily  This  Is  A  Low  (also  on  the  band’s  best  of  collection),  which  is  somehow  incredibly  depressing  yet  uplifting  at  the  same  time.  Every  track  on  here  has  something  of  merit,  from  bril- liant  lyrics  to  fantastic  guitar  solos  courtesy  of  Graham  Coxon,  and  shows  Blur  doing  what  they  do  best  –  perfectly  crafted  pop  songs.  It’s  better  than  anything  the  Gallaghers  ever  did,  too‌
$ISJT )ZEF
Singles +VJDFCPY
5IF 4USPLFT
The Â ďŹ rst  single  from  the  Strokes’  forthcoming  new  album  comes  with  the  dubious  promise  of  an  ‘exciting  new  change  of  direction.’  Bands  tend  to  claim  this  either  when,   the  only  difference  to  their  last  15  albums  is  a  rather  ‘interesting’  drum  solo  on  track  9,  or  when  justifying  an  experimental  Sting  album  that  only  uses  bassoons.   Sadly,  Juicebox  is  closer  to  the  former.  According  to  Strokes  singer  Julian  Casablancas,  the  new  album  is  “about  how  someone  from  outer  space  would  objectively  view  things  happening  on  earth,â€?  but  while  Juicebox  has  some  genuinely  unexpected  moments  (for  ex- ample  the  slightly  cringe-Âworthy  lines  ‘standing  in  the  light Â ďŹ eld,  waiting  for  some  action.’  In  a  Dalek  Voice),  the  objective  alien  would  have  to  concede  the  song  soon  reverts  to  old  Strokes  territory.  This  isn’t  particularly  a  bad  thing;Íž  the  song  starts  with  a  thumping,  danceable  bass  riff  and  a  blistering  gui- tar  solo,  and  Casablancas  shows  how  raw  and  ex- citing  his  voice  can  be  during  the  Offspring-Âesque  chorus.  Although  it  gets  an  A  for  effort,  Juicebox  doesn’t  quite  fulďŹ l  its  early  promises.
4JNPO 8FTU
18
Event The
It’s  hard  to Â ďŹ nd  a  piece  written  about  Alanis  Morissette  that  doesn’t  mention  one  of  the  following.  Firstly,  that  her  third  album,  Jagged  Little  Pill,  is  one  of  the  most  successful  albums  of  all  time,  selling  an  incredible  30  million  copies.  Secondly,  the  fact  that  her  biggest  hit,  Ironic,  is  possibly  the  most  inaccurately  named  song  of  all  time,  completely  failing  to  include  a  single  ironic  event.  Neither  of  these  facts  managed  to  dent  her  enthusiasm  for  making  music  though,  and  this  retrospective  charts  her  career  from  her  breakthrough  suc- cess  to  the  present  day.  Alanis  has  had  great  success  writing  superior,  nicely  varied,  motiva- tional  pop  songs,  and  this  is  indeed  what  The  Collection  contains.  She  “rocks  outâ€?  on  Sister  Blister,  asks  penetrating  questions  on  the  swelling  strings  of  That  I  Would  Be  Good,  and  gives  conďŹ dent,  sis- terly  guidance  backed  by  jangling  guitars  on  You  Learn.  Massive  hits  like  Thank  U,  Crazy,  Ironic  and  Hand  In  My  Pocket  can  either  be  seen  as  irritating  or  pop  genius,  but  either  way  completely  embody  her  unique  outlook  on  life. Four  songs  from Â ďŹ lm  soundtracks  add  variety  and  hint  at  the  sing- er’s  serious  side.  A  cover  of  Ella  Fitzgerald’s  jazz  classic  Let’s  Do  It  (Let’s  Fall  In  Love)  demonstrates  the  strength  and  versatility  of  her  voice,  while  original  songs  from  the  City  Of  Angels  and  Dogma  soundtracks  are  darker  and  more  dramatic.  The  real  shock  though  is  Mercy,  a  bizarre  semi-Âclassical  duet  between  Alanis  (singing  in  Hungarian)  and  Salif  Keita  (singing  in  Mali),  complete  with  massed  strings  and  a  Swahili-Âchanting  choir. If  you  don’t  think  too  hard  about  them  and  suppress  your  cynical  urges,  her  songs  can  be  genuinely  uplifting.  However,  while  listen- ing  to  the  album  in  full,  the  remorselessly  unsubtle,  shallow  lyrics, Â
and  the  endless  lists  of  things  that  Alanis  Morissette  likes/  dislikes/  wants  to  tell  her  ex-Âboyfriend  begin  to  grate,  making  it  an  album  best  listened  to  in  small  doses.  A  visit  to  Alanis’  website  reveals  the  motivation  behind  the  soul  searching  theme  –  a  page  full  of  links  to  Morissette-Âendorsed  self-Âhelp  websites.  If  you  regard  such  sites  as  idealistic  nonsense,  then  this  is  not  the  album  for  you.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  you  think  “gettingtheloveyouwant.comâ€?  or  “innerbonding.comâ€?  could  really  change  your  life,  or  you  just  enjoy  a  bit  of  feisty,  honest  pop  rock,  then  Alanis  Morissette  may  well  be  your  new  hero. Â
5IF 6TFE * $BVHIU 'JSF
4ZTUFN 0G " %PXO )ZQOPUJ[F
‘I  Caught  Fire’,  taken  from  the  band’s  third  album,  is  sadly  another  predictably  shallow  and  soulless  single  from  this  tiresome  pop  rock  outďŹ t.  Despite  being  quite  a  talented  four  piece,  the  Used  have  never  been  anything  other  than  ordinary.  Their  self-Âproclaimed  incredible  progression  as  a  band  is  nowhere  to  be  found  as  Bert  McCracken’s  vocals  continue  to  whine  over  the  scratchy,  mindless,  and  often  downright  painful  guitar  melodies.  This  sin- gle  isn’t  necessarily  awful,  it’s  just  unimaginative,  and  has  been  done  many  times  before  by  much  better  bands.  Go  listen  to  LIT  or  Funeral  for  a  Friend,  there’s  nothing  of  interest  for  you  here.
The  38  minutes  of  joy  that  was  imposed  upon  us  earlier  in  the  year  with  Mesmerize  left  us  itching  for  more;Íž  now,  SOAD  return  to  prolong  a  trend  that  exploded  like  a  nuclear  bomb  earlier  in  the  year.  Hypnotize  is  again  fuelled  by  raging  lyrics  that  attack  American  propaganda  head  on,  sup- ported  by  huge  riffs  and  some  downright  dance  oor  mad  bongos.  The  fact  that  SOAD  continue  to  subvert  with  so  much  success  leaves  us  question- ing  why  other  bands  aren‘t  this  daring?  The  type  of  record  that  actually  makes  you  sit  up  and  listen  doesn‘t  come  by  too  often;Íž  SOAD  are  a  genuine  rarity,  DO  NOT  take  them  for  granted. Â
                                       5PN 4PVUFS
"NBSBOUJOF
&OZB
(SFH 4VMMJWBO
3FTPMWF
“Enya  has  sold  more  than  65  million  albums  world- wideâ€?  proudly  proclaims  the  inside  sleeve  of  this  single.  Questions  begin  to  spring  to  the  inquisitive  mind  of  this  journalist.  Why  is  Enya  telling  us  this?  Why  should  we  care?  And  perhaps  most  impor- tantly,  who  bought  all  those  albums? Undeniably,  65  million  copies  spells  success  for  any  artist,  so  what  now  from  Enya?  Will  this  new  single  see  her  career  take  a  different  direction?  The  answer  sadly  is  no.  Enya’s  music  is  by  no  means  bad,  just  terribly,  terribly  dull.  What  is  bad,  on  the  other  hand  is  her  mainstream  commodiďŹ cation  of  classical  music,  which  is,  to  be  frank,  quite  sicken- ing.
4JNPO (SJGmUIT
'PP 'JHIUFST
The  third  single  from  their  ambitious,  yet  sadly  patchy  album  “In  Your  Honorâ€?,  “Resolveâ€?  encap- sulates  the  pop-Ârock  formula  that  the  Foos  are  fa- mous  for.  This  is  a  ballad  that,  although  slightly  lyrically  repetitive,  still  has  hooks  in  all  the  right  places  and  will  have  you  humming  with  glee.  That  is,  until  the  inevitable  radio  saturation  ruins  the  song  and  every  time  you  subsequently  hear  it  you  consider  throwing  your  wireless  out  of  the  window.  Unfortunately  this  seems  to  be  the  fate  destined  for  every  Foo  Fighters  single,  so  until  then  sit  back  and  enjoy  this Â ďŹ ne  example  of  masters  at  work.  Goodness  that  chorus  is  good‌ Â
#SFOEBO "QQMFUPO
5PN 1SFTUPO
"UIMFUF 5XFOUZ 'PVS )PVST Can  Athlete  contend  with  those  around  them?  A  triumphant  Coldplay  have  monopolised  the  epic  rock  sound,  while  anticipation  mounts  for  new  material  from  Keane  after  their  majestic  debut  and  Snow  Patrols  overdue  mainstream  breakthrough.   2005  has,  however,  been  a  very  successful  year  for  the  Depford  quartet;Íž  festival  slots  at  V  and  Glastonbury  as  well  as  their  chart  topping  album  shows  that  they  are  major  players  in  the  Britrock  leagues.  The  fourth  single  from  their  album  ‘Tourist’  be- gins  poorly.  Initially  confronted  by  a  saccharine  keyboard  loop  and  docile  lyrics,  fears  of  ineptitude  are  lifted  along  with  the  hearts  of  those  listening  as  the  strings  rise  and  the  bass  pounds  to  pro- duce  a  melancholic  yet  endearing  celebration  of  hope.  The  Coldplay  anthemic  formula  is  evident  (reminiscent  of  ‘Everything’s  Not  Lost’  but  with  less  warmth),  but  as  the  track  builds  to  a  pulsat- ing  emotional  crescendo  Athlete  effervesce  with  quality.     Â
.JDIBFM )BSWFZ
Music
Live: Â KT Â Tunstall
-$3
After  Ed  Harcourt’s  amazing  opening  set,  enthralling  as  ever,  KT  Tunstall  had  a  hard  act  to  follow.  But  she  came  out  with  style  and  impressed  us  all.  Not  known  for  being  particularly  exciting  or  ener- getic,  she  put  on  an  amazing  show,  and  the  band  truly  seemed  to  be  relishing  the  atmosphere.  The  crowd  were  hooked  on  every  line,  riff,  and  melody.  The  set  consisted  of  her  entire  album,  a  b-Âside,  and  a  couple  of  amazing  new  tracks,  showing  genuine  progression  from  ‘Eye  to  the  telescope’.  The  antics  of  the  Sprowston  percussionist  and  keyboardist  were  great  to  watch,  and  the  appearance  of  Ed  Harcourt Â
on  keys  for  one  song  was  a  very  welcome  suprise.  I  can’t  remember  the  last  time  I  saw  a  band  enjoy  themselves  this  much,  and  it  really  helped  the  atmosphere.  It  was  an  amazing  gig,  with  an  extended  ‘Suddenly  I  see’ Â ďŹ nishing  off  the  main  set,  and  a  beautiful  rendition  of  ‘Through  the  Dark’  closing  the  night.  This  was  a  stunning  gig,  the  new  songs  proving  to  us  all  that  KT  Tunstall  will  be  around  for  a  long  time  to  come
5PN 4PVUFS
Hard-Fi 5IF 8BUFSGSPOU
Current  holders  of  the  NME  single  of  the  week,  The  Automatic  ar- rive  onstage  to  a  warm  reception  to  an  already  packed  Waterfront.  This  is  the  second  time  they  have  played  Norwich  in  two  weeks,  and  their  brilliant  blend  of  angular,  Bloc  Party  –  style  rock  and  lush  Killers  –  like  electro-Âpop  (plus  their  hugely  entertaining  and  frankly  mental  screaming,  crowd  surďŹ ng  keyboard  player)  ensure  that  they  leave  with  even  more  new  fans. After  a  long  wait  Hard-ÂFi  bound  onstage  and  treat  us  to  a  barrage  of  fantastic  songs  including  their  singles  “Hard  to  Beatâ€?,  “Cash  Ma- chineâ€?,  “Tied  Up  Too  Tightâ€?  and,  best  of  all,  “Living  for  the  Week-Â
endâ€?.  They  also  treat  us  to  a  ten-Âminute  prog-Ârock  cover  of  The  White  Stripes’  “Seven  Nation  Armyâ€?  complete  with  psychedelic  guitar  wig- outs.  Singer  and  Captain  Scarlet  look-Âalike  Richard  Archer  is  a Â ďŹ ery  presence  throughout,  constantly  inciting  the  crowd  to  greater  levels  of  adoration.  The  audience  respond  in  kind  and  by  the  end  of  the  night  the  ceiling  is  literally  dripping  with  sweat! On  this  sort  of  form  Hard-ÂFi  will  surely  not  be  playing  venues  as  small  as  the  Waterfront  for  much  longer,  so  this  could  turn  out  to  be  one  of  those  “I  was  thereâ€?  moments.
3PC 4JNQTPO
Albums 7BSJPVT "SUJTUT 'BCSJD $BSM $SBJH
Carl  Craig,  one  of  the  last  stalwarts  of  techno  mans  the  decks  for  the  25th  Fabric  mix  compilation.  Rath- er  less  stentorian  than  fellow  Detroit  pioneer  Jeff  Mills,  his  selections  provide  warmth  and  a  modera- tion  that  one  rarely  associates  with  techno. A  lot  of  the  music  here  seems  to  be  rather  subtle  and  polite  with  Megablast’s  “Jupitaâ€?  slowly  seeping  into  the  cranium  through  its Â ďŹ nely  cadenced  repeti- tion,  while  Carl  Craig’s  own  “Angelâ€?  treads  a Â ďŹ ne  line  between  peaceful  transcendence  and  pilled-Âup  mania.  Soul  and  tribal  inuences  abound,  such  as  on  the  disco-Âhouse  of  Blaze’s  “Most  Precious  Love.â€?  However  some  of  it  does  tend  to  stray  into  thumping,  if  tasteful,  anonymity.  Carl  Craig’s  oc- casional  tired  vocal  interjections  of  the  “clap  your  handsâ€?  variety  hardly  inspire,  either.  But  luckily, Â
these  are  few  and  far  between,  and  Craig’s  mixing  eschews  technical  showboating,  opting  instead  for  seamless  transitions,  rather  than  jarring  attempts  at  ostentatious  juxtaposition.  Played  low,  this  album  can  provide  an  inoffensive  yet  energetic  backdrop,  and  pushing  the  volume  will  sufďŹ ce  as  a  prelude  for  a  big  night  out.  But  though  none  of  it  really  grates,  this  collection  seems  rather  more  functional  than  inspired.  "MFY $BMEXFMM
5IF 'JFSZ 'VSOBDFT 3FIFBSTJOH .Z $IPJS This  the  third  full-Âlength  from  New  York  alt-Ârock  outďŹ t  The  Fiery  Furnaces  and  is  a  very  strange  con- cept  album  indeed.  The  band  is  comprised  of  sib- lings  Matthew  and  Eleanor  Friedberger,  who  have  been  lurking  in  the  shadows  of  alternative  music  since  their Â ďŹ rst  CD  two  years  ago.  This  album  aims  to  change  that  -  possibly  through  its  sheer  strange- ness.  It  stars  the  pair’s  grandmother,  Olga  Saran- tos,  on  vocals  as  she  narrates  the  story  of  her  life  through  song.  The  subject  matter  and  time  period  varies  considerably  –  for  example,  Seven  Part-ÂSil- ver  Curses  is  set  in  the  late  50s  and  features  Olga Â ďŹ nding  ingredients  for  a  potion  to  get  rid  of  her  husband’s  lover;Íž  then  Though  Let’s  Be  Fair  is  about  Olga’s  lovers  in  her  1940s  upbringing.  The  songs Â
are  full  of  musical  variety  to  sustain  the  listener’s  interest  –  such  as  plodding  organs,  synthesizer  so- los  and  gentle  acoustic  strums.  Despite  this,  it  is  still  very  difďŹ cult  to  listen  to.  The  anecdotal  nature  of  the  lyrics,  as  the  family  all  discuss  events,  may  alienate  some  people  and  is  has  to  be  listened  to  as  a  whole  –  taken  out  of  the  context,  the  songs  don’t  seem  to  work  as  well,  possibly  due  to  the  audio  book  feel  of  the  album.  Very  different  to  any  other  current  bands  (with  the  possible  exception  of  Arcade  Fire),  it  does  take  a  while  to  appreciate  The  Fiery  Furnaces  but  those  with  enough  patience  will  be  rewarded  on  a  multitude  of  levels.
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