tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24201063019305280632024-03-13T15:59:21.687+00:00Mildly Interestingextremely mildly interesting thingsChris David Richardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02042114431864864898noreply@blogger.comBlogger322125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2420106301930528063.post-15708184441283920092015-12-06T22:06:00.000+00:002015-12-06T22:14:25.935+00:00I'm finally convinced that Peter Capaldi is the Doctor<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i><span style="font-size: x-large;">For a long time,</span></i> I wasn't convinced by the twelfth Doctor. It wasn't that there was anything wrong with Peter Capaldi's performance, it was just that he didn't seem very Doctorly. There was Ecclestone for a bit, then I got used to David Tennant, and then I got used to Matt Smith, and Capaldi seemed like too much of a change. He was too grumpy, too cold, too Scottish, and I didn't see the same character in him. It's not like I could compare him to any of the pre-my-birth Doctors, because I'm just not going to watch any of that (sorry). I can only judge these modern-era Doctors, in the new version of the show that's not that new anymore. And the good news is that at the end of a season that's been sometimes quite good but too often <i>meh</i>, there are two episodes that have completely and utterly convinced me that Capaldi is the Doctor. And he might be <i>more</i> the Doctor than any others I've seen.<br />
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The problem with this season has been its strange addiction to two-parters. These days the idea of a two-parter can seem strange, when there's so much good stuff with running storylines. <i>Doctor Who</i> is the rare show that can pull off doing a different thing every week. It can do anything it wants, and if you don't like one story, there's another one next week. Except this year there wasn't, and if you didn't like something you were kind of stuck with it for a bit longer. There were Zygons doing a world invasion thing, which is difficult to do on a small budget. There was an immortal girl who never really seemed immortal (Maisie Williams is very good in <i>Game of Thrones</i>, though). And there was some other stuff that isn't really relevant to the point I'm trying to make: the penultimate episode 'Heaven Sent' is amazing. I don't know what pure <i>Doctor Who</i> is, but this is where it is for me.<br />
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There's just him, the Doctor, trapped in a puzzle box, chased by death, choosing to punch through a diamond wall and die over and over again for billions of years instead of giving in. In this episode time is weighty and terrible, and the Doctor is the master of it. I don't think it would have been as good with Smith or Tennant. Here Peter Capaldi really looks, and sounds, like an intergalactic wizard. He is dark and powerful and seems to belong in a never-ending castle of doom. The whole episode was very clever, but not in the overly complicated way that sometimes causes problems. Its simplicity allowed it to focus on the things that really work: hunting for clues in a Gothic space prison, a creepy death monster chasing him, and punching through a <i>diamond wall</i> for <i>billions of years</i>.<br />
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Maybe it's all down to the coat. In this episode he is wearing a red velvet coat that is self-consciously more Doctory than what he normally wears. If he is the minimalist Doctor, that coat is what completes the picture. They even make a point of him not wearing it in the next episode. In the finale, he takes it off and becomes even more of a badass by taking over his home planet from a hut. It seems that he would rip the universe apart to get his companion back. It's something he's probably done before, but he's never taken such a long, long road to do it. These two closing episodes are season-saving stuff for me, and it helps that they're unusually well directed. I'm not saying that <i>Doctor Who </i>isn't well directed, just that I don't usually notice. Here I didn't have to <i>try</i> to believe it and forgive the cheap bits or the parts that are obviously in Cardiff. I was there, I was on Gallifrey, and I didn't question it. And I was also, for the first time in a while, back with the Doctor.Chris David Richardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02042114431864864898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2420106301930528063.post-27785576595363803022015-08-30T20:32:00.000+01:002015-09-10T21:34:06.303+01:00I don't know how to listen to music anymore<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i><span style="font-size: x-large;">I listen to music a lot, </span></i>but I don't really listen to a lot of music. I buy three or four albums a year and listen to them, which has seemed like the best way to do it. These become <i>my</i> albums. The ones that I listen to over and over again. I used to buy them on CDs, and now, because CDs are kind of horrible, I download them. It's nice to have a collection. I know where I am with these songs, because they're mostly pretty good. Now big companies tell me I shouldn't be doing this. Don't pay for some of the music, they say, pay for <i>all of the music.</i> Give us ten pounds a month and you can listen to anything you want.<br />
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I didn't bother with Spotify, partially because it's easy to ignore, but mostly because it's called Spotify. Apple's new streaming thing was harder to ignore, since it landed in my iTunes and said 'Do this free for three months, you might like it!' And I do sort of like it. I can listen to pretty much anything I want in good quality and with no adverts (unlike YouTube). I can click around to find things that are similar to things I already like, and catch up on bands I forgot about five years ago. There's a freedom to it. I don't have to invest in anything. I can walk into a band's discography, play a few songs, have a nice time, then leave. Except, that's the problem. Music becomes easier, but also throwaway. Streaming music is oddly impersonal. There isn't the care that comes with ownership, or the attention. When you can listen to anything you want, you can give up on something after thirty seconds and find the next song that might be better.<br />
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I can complain about this, but then owning music doesn't actually matter. It's not like I'm polishing old vinyl records, or whatever you do with vinyl records. I have CD copies of my favourite albums in cardboard sleeves, and I'm fairly sure 'owning' anything on iTunes is an illusion. Still, having something is a different feeling to consuming it. Taking books out of the library is nice, but <i>my</i> books are excellent, lovely objects that I read more carefully. They take on a different quality.<br />
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<i><span style="font-size: x-large;">This might all be nonsense, though. </span></i>I've discovered that there's a different problem: I don't really like new music. By that I mean I don't like music I haven't heard before. When I want to listen to music I go for something I know I like. The hypocrisy in this is that all my favourite songs were new once. In my mind, though, that happened accidentally, like I tripped over them in the street or something. There's no point trying to look for them in a playlist called 'Best New Songs', and they won't be in 'Similar artists to this one' either. They are the unexpected things you don't know you like until you hear it. For me, that doesn't happen often.<br />
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I wonder if I found my new favourite band on Apple Music, whether I would instantly click away to find something better. And there's plenty there, plenty this-is-alright-but-I-would-never-actually-buy-this albums. Cutting off all this noise into a collection is having your own little haven. The internet is a big cloud of floating stuff, and we reach into it and say I'll have <i>this</i> and <i>this</i> and <i>this</i> and keep them over here. I think we need to do that, or it's just endless noise pouring out of speakers. It won't mean anything. But if this is true, why do I keep going back to Apple Music? I'm always looking for the next thing, the next great thing. It's in there somewhere. When I hear it, I don't know what I'll do with it.Chris David Richardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02042114431864864898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2420106301930528063.post-85600504569733001752015-06-15T21:36:00.000+01:002015-06-15T21:46:13.186+01:00The internet of making lists<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>After making a list</b> of all the films I've watched on a <a href="http://letterboxd.com/ChrisDRichards/films/diary/" target="_blank">film-diary-type-website</a>, one thing has become clear: I don't watch many films. Since last November I've only seen 27 films. I always imagined I watched lots of films, but that doesn't seem to be the case anymore. Maybe it never was. The thing about a list like this is that it turns your assumptions into bare facts. When I think I've seen lots of interesting films recently, the list will say 'No, you've only seen five films since February'. The films I imagined I watched were probably two years ago. The truth is that I don't feel the need to watch many films. With so much good television on these days, going to the cinema seems almost unnecessary. When I can watch <i>Game of Thrones</i>, or a new season of <i>True Detective</i>, or <i>Mad Men</i>, or <i>Breaking Bad</i>, I already have a lot of stories. Sorry films, I do love you really, but the list doesn't lie.<br />
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The internet is great at keeping track of these things. I use Goodreads to do the same thing with books. And as books take such a long time to finish, they enter the list with a satisfying thud. The slowly growing <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/23866451?shelf=read" target="_blank">list</a>, like this blog, will remind me that, look, this is a part of what you did on this day, or that month. My mind reduces the past into a squishy blob where the <i>when</i> of things is uncertain. But the lists remember. For instance, this blog will tell me that about two years ago I was watching <a href="http://mildlyinterestingthings.blogspot.co.uk/2013/03/ten-james-bond-films.html" target="_blank">a lot of James Bond films</a>. I thought that was last year. The technology disagrees.<br />
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Blogging becomes an accidental diary. When I wrote 71 posts in 2011, that was just the present. Now it's four years ago, and my random thoughts on whatever take on more significance. This is what I thought then, or at least what I wrote down. Somehow, reminding myself of the time I watched <i>The Host</i>, a film about a rampaging fish monster, illustrates the passage of time more than anything else. Or it at least reminds me of the time I watched <i>The Host</i>. Unfortunately, I don't blog as much as I used to, because I'm a bad person. And I don't leave reviews on 'Letterboxd'. I need to write down what I thought of some of these films, so me in four years will remember. I'll do that now.<br />
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<b>Best film </b>Whiplash <b>Film I really didn't enjoy as much as I wanted to </b>Elysium <b>Most grim </b>The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo <b>Film I saw just before I started this list </b>Interstellar <b>Film that made me wish the director had spent the time doing something better </b>Pacific Rim <b>Someone is taken, but not for as long as before </b>Taken 2 <b>Second most grim </b>The Girl Who Played with Fire <b>Any Christmas film will do, it just has to be about Christmas </b>Deck the Halls <b>Film I'd never heard of but has Heath Ledger </b>Ned Kelly <b>I remember hardly any of this from when I saw it a long time ago </b>Time Bandits <b>Film I actually wrote a blog post about </b>2001: A Space Odyssey <b>I just finished reading these books </b>The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring <b>There is nothing really to say about this film </b>The Expendables 2 <b>Action film where main character seems strangely laid back </b>Rollerball <b>I wonder if these films will get less popular soon; I mean they're fine, but there really are a lot of them </b>Captain America: The Winter Soldier <b>Now I understand what all the quotes about running meant </b>Forrest Gump <b>Films I saw half of, but couldn't put on the list because rules are rules </b>Home Alone, Skyfall, other things I've forgotten about because I <i>didn't put them on the list</i>Chris David Richardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02042114431864864898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2420106301930528063.post-66949336948228327622015-02-26T20:44:00.000+00:002015-02-28T19:57:54.764+00:00Thoughts from watching 2001: A Space Odyssey<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Writing about a film from fifty years ago is almost entirely pointless. There is nothing new I can say about <i><b>2001: A Space Odyssey</b></i>. It might help that I'm not interested in saying anything new about it. I only want to write down some of thoughts I had while watching it, and that's probably what blogs are for. They didn't have blogs in 1968. As far as I know there was only advertising agencies and whisky. So this will have to do. I'm also not particularly interested in most of what there is to say about the film. I don't want to use the word 'masterpiece' and then pretend to be a film historian. I don't really care who Stanley Kubrick is. All I've got is what I saw when I watched the film for the first time. Here it is.<br />
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<b>The Dawn of Man. </b>Monkeys. I wonder how many film studies essays have been written about these monkeys. The arrival of a mysterious monolith shakes things up a bit.<br />
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<b>Spaceships, classical music. </b>After skipping past pretty much everything, the film has slowed right down. Waltzing space stations, waltzing music. It's all very nice, but some of the interiors still look like a film studies class. I'm still imagining this essay: 'The juxtaposition of the red chairs in the foreground and the stark white walls of the background symbolise...' There's a time in school when you learn the word 'juxtaposition' and then attempt to use it in every essay. It's not something you would ever say out loud. It's an essay word. It's especially good to use in exams. Its real purpose is to say 'Look, I know the word "juxtaposition"'. That's at least five extra marks. You can go up a whole grade with 'juxtaposition'. Anyway, the people have found another monolith, and this one is a lot more interesting. Where did it come from? Who put it there? I think these are questions I'd be asking if this actually happened. After all, a mysterious monolith being buried on the moon isn't a lot more strange than the moon existing at all. It's all a big mystery, this universe. We don't know what it is, but we're here, and this lot are about to discover something new. It's the excellent droning soundtrack that's making me have these thoughts. Vast mysteries need vast music.<br />
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<b>Bad robot. </b>There's a while where this film is about a sinister machine, which is pretty much all I knew about it beforehand. It's definitely the most engaging 'film' part of the film. There's a plot, and dialogue, and it's clear what's happening. After the evolution of man, we've got the evolution of machines. No astronauts would actually have begun a voyage with a robot that has such a creepy voice. For such a complex machine, there must be customisation options. My Sat Nav has about a hundred accents and languages to choose from. They might have <i>chosen</i> this voice. Of course, by this point the machine is doing whatever it wants, with all the cold logical certainty of an impassive red light that's decided it's better off without you. 'Don't shut me down, Dave. I'm afraid'. It knows how to code the humans.<br />
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<b>Dave travels through the universe. </b>It's time to question the universe again. Dave is going on a long trip through some lights, but these are some impressive lights. It's a rare space film that makes you feel like you're experiencing the vastness of space. That's not exactly possible, but the hypnotic, overwhelming, sensory overload of this part gives it a good go. When you read a book about space, or watch a documentary on physics, you have to stretch your mind out further than it's able to. I heard somewhere that the definition of fantasy is something that could never happen, and science fiction is something that probably will. But the truth is that there is nothing in any fantasy novel that is stranger than the actual universe we're in.<br />
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There are billions and billions of stars in the Milky Way - hundreds of billions - and our galaxy is just one of around a hundred and forty billion other galaxies, all with their own billions of stars.* This is all meaningless of course, because my brain can't comprehend how much a billion of anything is. There are vast millions of miles of nothingness in between all these balls of fire and planets and bits of rock and I don't know what else (black holes, I mean, <i>what?</i>). The problem with thinking about all this is that you then have to readjust your mind back down to manageable distances, to the tiny bit of the universe you're in, where there's rugby and houses and films, and you're just generally meant to go about your business. Never mind though, because Dave is going to see what's at the other side of the universe, it's...<br />
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<b>The end. </b>What? I'm usually all for defusing grand themes with a joke, but don't take us through all that to show us... a strangely decorated bedroom, with towels. Up until now I thought the film was trying to show us something universal, but this is part of a specific sci-fi plot that I don't understand. All the tension is gone, and poor Dave grows old all of a sudden. Is this what would have happened to HAL if it had gone there by itself? I'd like to see the alternate ending where the robot works it all out, then looms over Earth with its big red light. Or at least just something else. I still feel disappointed by this ending. They showed us the universe then gave us a cardboard bedroom with underfloor lighting. Maybe this is what it'd be like if we did discover exactly what the universe was. All those scientists trying to figure it out are working towards a big anticlimax. Questions are more interesting than answers. What will we do when the big puzzle is solved? The collective response to the solving of the mystery of existence might be 'Okay then, what's next?'<br />
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Thanks Dave. Good film, though. Shame about the giant baby.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*<i>A Short History of Nearly Everything</i>, Bill Bryson</span>Chris David Richardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02042114431864864898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2420106301930528063.post-9571747322486581632014-12-23T16:13:00.000+00:002014-12-23T16:13:29.001+00:00A long book about hobbits<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Back in March I said I was going to read <i><b>The Lord of the Rings</b></i>, and because it takes me months to do anything I say I’m going to do, I’ve only just finished it (I did read other books first, because I'm also easily distracted). It seemed like something I should have already read, so I could say it was ‘one of the favourite books of my childhood’, or something similar. There was a time that I did try to read it, about ten or fifteen years ago, but didn’t get past <i>The Fellowship of the Ring</i>, because there were other, shorter books to read. This time would be different. This time I would get right to the bottom of every single detail and come out the other side. And now I know more about Middle Earth than the actual, real country I live in. I can point to a place called the ‘Gulf of Lhûn’ on a map. I can name at least five different fictional rivers. I know that Elvish bread fills you up but doesn't taste that good. I know that the Dúnedain descended from Númenor. I know what words like ‘Dúnedain’ and ‘Númenor’ mean.<br />
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The most impressive thing about the <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> is this world. Apart from the layers of history, there is an immersive sense of place. Travelling across Middle Earth is being in a place that has never existed, except in the mind of everyone who has read it. It seems that every inch of it is described (it helps that Tolkien has a hundred different words for ‘field’). You can share in Frodo and Sam’s journey because you’ve seen every step of it. The mental distance between the Shire and Mordor is massive, and not just in imagined distance. When they leave their green and cosy land, every step they take is towards a looming darkness. As they get closer to the end, it genuinely feels like they’re going somewhere really, really bad. The ‘Land of Shadow’ is obviously not a nice place, and you can tell ‘Mount Doom’ isn’t going to be a party, but it’s only when you read it that it all starts to seep into your mind. I knew what was going to happen, and I still thought there was no way these hobbits were getting home.<br />
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Tolkien was very eager to point out that this story isn’t a metaphor. It is what it is. There is philosophy there if you want, but I think Tolkien just created this stuff because it’s <i>cool</i>. He imagined a world of people and monsters and made them fight. There are long-winded parts, but he is not a boring writer. Boring writers rarely write about undead warriors on flying hell-horses, or armies of walking trees, or the lairs of giant spiders. This is all there because it’s fun, and underneath all the mythology, it is a story about hobbits. They are the little people in a big world that they don’t understand. As they learn, we learn. When everyone else is giving regal speeches about swords, the hobbits are the warm, likable heart of the book. Imagine Middle-Earth without them. Who would we care about? By focusing on the underdogs, Tolkien shows that he cares more about the story than ancient history. From the chase through the Shire to the huge battles, they are always completely out of their depth, and always getting stronger. <br />
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And how can they ever take on the Big Bad? Possibly the Biggest Bad of all, Sauron is so evil we don’t even need to see him. He’s so terrifying, being within ten miles of him makes people faint. There is no need to meet Sauron. There is no description of him. He just <i>is</i>. The ultimate evil that is waiting at the top of his black fortress. The books don’t even bother with that literal Big Eye that the films created. Here his ‘Eye’ is just all around you. The closest glimpse we get of him is when the dark mists surrounding his fortress part for a moment, and ‘as from some great window immeasurably high,’ Frodo sees a ‘flame of red.’ We only experience the trouble and darkness that he has caused, and that is enough. It’s a lot for a few hobbits to do. <br />
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It is a book that has the power to be both completely enthralling and mind-smackingly dull. The worst parts are when everyone is sitting around in complete safety, and we have to hear about how lovely the elves are. They’re all ‘glimmering’ and ‘glittering’ and full of long stories and songs about a thousand years ago, which aren’t actually of any use to anyone. It all makes the contrast sharper, because the best parts are where the heroes are starving, tired, despairing and hopeless, crawling through a dead land in final desperation. There is no ambiguity here: the goodies are the ones who look good, the baddies look bloody awful, but they do make things dramatic. And then there’s the parts where Gandalf is standing at the gates of a burning city, facing down a black-cloaked fire-headed doom spirit, or where he’s wrestling a towering flame-demon while falling down an abyss to the bottom of the world. Because Gandalf knows what makes a good book: leaving things till the last moment. The boring parts are there to trudge through; the good parts you’ll remember forever.Chris David Richardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02042114431864864898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2420106301930528063.post-78236458233736238102014-11-12T21:55:00.000+00:002014-11-12T22:00:32.627+00:00The last few bullets of Boardwalk Empire<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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(<i>Spoilers.</i>) I've always thought that <b><i>Boardwalk Empire</i></b> was too much of a big, sprawling history lesson. It always seemed half great, and half a meeting of violent men in hats that I hardly recognised. But in the closing minute one bullet snapped the whole thing into focus. Five seasons of conspiracies and killings given symmetry with a final closing punch. Nucky is shot by Tommy Darmody, the son of the man he killed all those years ago. Now it seems obvious that the show was always operating from the aftermath of that event. Characters were left behind, straggling and aimless without Jimmy to anchor them. Sad Richard didn't know what to do with himself for a long while, except <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YYHxOdqepl8" target="_blank">going on an occasional rampage</a>. And I wondered, why is Gillian even still in this show? Now it all has consequence. Even the Young Nucky flashbacks that we've been dragged through this season proved their worth. By putting Nucky's final moments against his decision, many years ago, to give Gillian to the Commodore, we can see that his whole life hinged on one terrible act. On the one hand his job as the Sheriff set him on the path to take over Atlantic City, but it also set the wheels in motion for his death. In an earlier episode, Young Nucky walked into the Commodore's foreboding new palace after the old Sheriff refused to enter. He raised his eyebrows at the rows of hellish artwork and kept going. The writers wanted us to see that, in his ambition, Nucky made a deal with the devil and it eventually cost him. Knowing that <i>Boardwalk Empire</i> rests on this one point gives it a focus that I never thought it had. It was this lack of clarity that I believed was holding it back from greatness. If I rewatched it (which I'm not going to do), the earlier seasons in particular would be far more enjoyable.<br />
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Maybe it's an illusion. Maybe it really is a long, confusing history lesson full of loose ends. After all, my favourite character didn't have much to do with Nucky at all. Nelson Van Alden, also known as "George Mueller", also known (by me) as "Old Mad Eyes", was a show all by himself. After one season as an FBI agent the writers sent him off on his own dark comedy, seemingly designed to put Michael Shannon in situations where'd he'd be the most fun to watch. He was a disgruntled salesman, going to door with the maddest face in America, until his colleagues poked and prodded him and he <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zhaOsF7F050" target="_blank">fried a man's head with an iron</a>. Then they sent him to work for Al Capone, just to watch him squirm. He turned simple statements into twisted, bleak jokes. In his final moments, before trying to steal from Capone, he goes through the hopeless plan, realises he is probably going to be killed, and simply says 'This has not been thought through.' <i>Boardwalk Empire</i> would have been emptier without him.<br />
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I wonder how it's going to be remembered. In a time when so much great television is being produced, <i>Boardwalk Empire</i> almost seemed like an underdog, something that was always just <i>there</i> being quietly brilliant. It was the odd sort of show that was never compulsive but always captivating; I never hurried to watch the next episode but I was always impressed when I did. It was slow and meandering and whether or not it lives up to the sum of its parts can only really be discovered with a rewatch. We shouldn't take it for granted though, because it's an example of how far modern television has come. This is a real crime epic, surpassing the old film classics in size and scope. It's a different language to film, and has to be judged differently, except to say that it matches them in terms of production quality and performances. This didn't used to be done, and these days we're getting used to it.Chris David Richardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02042114431864864898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2420106301930528063.post-56118456828357399572014-10-29T20:54:00.000+00:002014-10-29T21:01:52.458+00:00Is all my stuff obsolete?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>In my lifetime, which seems to be getting longer all the time, I have amassed a lot of stuff. </b>In the bottom of my wardrobe there are stacks of old magazines. There's a lot of them. About fifteen years worth of a games magazine that I was subscribed to. There is no good reason for me to still have them. The magazine was eventually closed down, like all magazines will be, because who wants to own a pile of paper when you can get everything on the internet? And that pretty much goes for a lot of my other stuff. There didn't used to be a problem with it. Now somebody could easily call it clutter. Why have all this physical media when it could be transferred to a computer?<br />
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Are racks of CDs now plastic irrelevancies when they can be contained invisibly in a silver box? In fact, CDs are easy to get rid of. The discs are only a storage medium for data files. It's the music that counts, and that can be stored on a computer. Transfer them over. Get rid of them. Yes. But what if I don't want an album on iTunes, but would still like to keep it? Okay, I'll keep a few. Not many, though, right? After all, some new computers don't even come with optical drives, because why would you even need one, like some loser stuck in 2005? Technology is marching forward, determined to leave physical media in the past, and if I'm not on board then I'm just not doing it right. The last few years have been a tipping point. Some people have ruthlessly cleared their shelves, and some, like me, haven't really bothered.<br />
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I might be changing my mind. For instance, I've been slowly going off the idea of owning films. It might seem like a good idea, but in reality I'll watch a DVD once then put it on a shelf forever and never touch it again. And what's the point in that? I used to watch all the commentaries and little extras. They just seem like a novelty now. So I should get rid of the DVDs. Well, maybe. Mostly. Everyone needs a few favourites to watch sometimes, and I'm not convinced there's a proper digital alternative. A streaming service like Netflix will only ever have <i>some </i>things, and I like the idea of owning a collection. It's possible to download films to iTunes and connect them to a television, but who really does that? And when it comes to books, I still choose to be stubborn, even though I could make the same arguments: paper is just a material for displaying words, words that could be on a screen, and I only ever read these things once. The difference, though, is that unlike data on a disc, books are real objects. They are nice to own. They are nice to have. The only time I see the point in e-books is when I'm trying to clear out old books, which isn't that often anyway. Maybe I would read more without wondering where I was going to fit each new book onto a shelf. Maybe I wouldn't.<br />
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There's a brutal and kind of appealing way to approach all this. I've read articles that say we should throw everything we're not using away and live in rooms of pared down minimalistic beauty. Just clear everything out, the articles say, get rid of anything that is clogging up your air space and keep the essential things. I imagine, though, that this is more fun to think about than it is to actually do. Tidy is good. I like tidy. Actually, that's not true. I like <i>tidying</i>. That's the satisfying part. A tidy room is boring. There's nothing to tidy. Even writing about tidying is fun. Not going to watch that film again? Throw it out the window. Why do I have these old books? Get rid of them. Make space. Start fresh. Sounds good. Sweeping away all these physical objects might be fun, like I was lessening some imagined burden, but I suspect there isn't much difference between an almost empty room and the lair of a psychopath. Because what would I have if I threw everything out, dumped all my films, pushed all my books onto some little device? A lot of empty shelves is what I would have.<br />
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Using books as decoration seems like a hollow argument, but the media we surround ourselves with is part of our identity. Lining a shelf with certain books is saying 'this is what I like, these are my favourites'. There are some objects that relate to my history. Like my vast collection of Nintendo games that I could never part with, even though they take up all that space. And the stacks of magazines that I believe have some connection to the time I read them. I will never really look at them again, I know that, but I do need to keep some stuff from the past. This is where I disagree with the constantly evolving idea of newness, with all the yearly updates of slim computers to more efficiently hide and organise our things. Yes, CDs and DVDs are on their way out, but we need to keep some real objects from the past, not virtual versions of them. Tidy is good, in moderation. Prune the DVD collection. Donate old books. Clear CD racks. The rest can stay. Some of my stuff is obsolete, but I'll keep it anyway.Chris David Richardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02042114431864864898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2420106301930528063.post-69648872674920345632014-05-29T21:39:00.000+01:002014-05-29T21:39:59.777+01:00The mystery of whether I enjoy Mad Men or not<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I want to like <b><i>Mad Men</i></b>. It seems like the right thing to do. It seems logical to like <i>Mad Men</i>. But I don't. Not much, anyway. Maybe not at all. I've only seen one season, which doesn't seem like much, but is still thirteen hours long. If I had done anything else for thirteen hours, I would probably know if I liked it or not. I will watch more of <i>Mad Men</i>. One more season. Maybe two. Because I really, really want to like <i>Mad Men</i>. It's an important television show. It's part of discussions about important television shows. I am not having these discussions about <i>Mad Men</i>, but one day, when somebody asks me what I think of<i> </i>it, I will have an intelligent answer. And maybe I'll be able to say I enjoy it. Or maybe not. The problem is that I admire it rather than enjoy it. It is an extremely well-made, well-written, well-acted series, and it has literary things to say about American society. Long articles can be written about the themes that run through each episode, and how they show up through metaphor and plot. Identity, racism, sexism, outdated social attitudes. All very interesting. But I don't want to write an essay. I want to be entertained.<br />
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I want to enjoy it. And that will only happen if there's a story I care about. From what I've seen of it so far, there isn't. I understand that it's a toned down, not-much-happens sort of show. I'm not against that. There just needs to be something going on that I can engage with. I don't really like the characters, but characters don't have to be likable. When the characters aren't likable, I look for something in the story. And when there's not much going on in the story, I watch something else. Don is a mope, who is full of little mysteries I think I'm meant to care about, but don't. His wife is bored. Peggy's alright. Joan reminds me of those really good <i>Firefly </i>episodes. There's lots of advertising meetings that all seem to involve the staff coming up with silly ideas, then Don saying 'No, that's not right. You have to consider the truth of the human condition, which I will now explain to you.'<br />
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His relationship with his family seems to be the main focus, but I have no sympathy for him. He looks constantly depressed at all the nicest family gatherings, then goes and sleeps with someone who's not his wife, and I'm meant to feel sorry that he feels so disconnected. Why is he doing this? He doesn't really say, but I think it has something to do with the themes. Those themes that need analysing. All the answers will be in there, not in the scenes where he sits in his office and stares at the wall, looking perplexed about this materialistic society and his existence in it, and the themes that are ruining his life. The episodes go by like this and I end up feeling different - not uplifted, not tense or excited, but <i>interested</i>, and a bit glum.<br />
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The reason I'm writing this, after only seeing one season, is that I want to make a record of how wrong I was. I want to have a revelation and realise that I love <i>Mad Men</i>, and I want to watch all of it, then watch it again and again. I'll appreciate it in all its deep and nuanced and brilliant complexity. I was wrong back then, when I hadn't really gotten into it. I'll own boxsets because I love it so much. It'll be wonderful. I will be a fan of one of the best TV shows ever made and I will write about it here. I really want to like <i>Mad Men</i>.Chris David Richardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02042114431864864898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2420106301930528063.post-9203604167375140752014-03-26T20:05:00.000+00:002014-03-26T20:47:57.294+00:00A short book about hobbits<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've been reading <i><b>The Hobbit</b></i>, which is probably the literary equivalent of a nice cup of tea. There's something comforting about it. It can't be nostalgia, because I don't really have any memory of reading it before, even though I found a scruffy old copy of it in my wardrobe. It reads like a gentle wander across Middle-earth, and that's a nice place to be if you're not actually there. Yes, there's violence and terror, but it's a cosy story. Unspeakable danger isn't so bad when it's narrated like a bedtime story. And there's not much to think about, because there are only hints of the deep mythology that Tolkein would create later, like it's just dipping your toe into a very deep pool. Apart from everything else, <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> and the other work that surround it are a masterpiece of world-building. There's more there than anyone could ever know. If you wanted to, you could learn about the history of every blade of grass. And I'm starting to think that's the best way to read it. I've read <i>The Fellowship of the Ring</i> before but then stopped, because, after all, it <i>is </i>very long and sometimes very boring. Maybe I wasn't reading it right. The problem is that I already know the story, so reading it passively isn't going to work. Instead, the fun is in the details. It's like a game to piece it all together, with the maps and the timelines and Appendix B with the things about the stuff. There's a whole world in there. Whether it's worth it or not, I'm not sure. <i>The Hobbit</i> is a children's book, and quite short, so I don't know if my interest will last much further. If I make it all the way through, I could read <i>The Silmarillion</i>, which is mostly in another language.<br />
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This is all a contradiction, because I've never had much patience with long books, and I expect I'll leave Frodo somewhere in a field again, halfway through his adventure. I do like the idea of it, though. This is why I don't mind <i>The Hobbit</i> films being too long. They're indulgent escapism. And I can just about see how they did it. The book does fall into three pieces, each with a neat climax, and it can be stretched out to three films if you really take your time and invent some other things. I'm glad they did it. It's fun to be in that world again. At the very least, I'm now the sort of person who browses the <a href="http://lotr.wikia.com/wiki/Main_Page" target="_blank">Lord of the Rings Wiki</a> for fun. There's a lot on there. I could read that instead.Chris David Richardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02042114431864864898noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2420106301930528063.post-17483298861990447512014-03-06T22:01:00.000+00:002014-03-06T22:01:19.203+00:00Bad people ruin good books<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I read a book that I really wanted to like. It wouldn't let me, and I'm starting to think it didn't want me to. It's <b><i>The Magicians</i></b> by Lev Grossman. The problem is not the story or the ideas. These are good. A teenager is admitted to a school for magic and goes looking for the fantasy worlds he's read about in books, expecting them to be real. It's a story about the idea of escaping into a fantasy place, and what that does to people. This character thinks he'll find fulfilment on a magical quest, and even when he's found it he's always looking for another secret door to take him somewhere else. It's a clever and sometimes brilliant view of the fantasy genre, managing to build its world and still be a parody of itself. It's a fantasy book for people who have grown up reading fantasy books.<br />
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Or at least, it would be. The problem is that it's a good story ruined by the decision to make most of the characters awful gits. I didn't want to spend any time with them. They're not villainous, just the sort of people you could meet in real life and wouldn't be friends with. Selfish, privileged, and miserable in their best moments, and really, really horrible in their worst. I'm not sure if this was intentional or not. It's a brave decision to turn the reader against the characters, except I was worried that I was meant to be relating to them. They have recognisable problems. They act and speak like real people. Only, real people that I don't like. I don't remember another time that I've put off reading a book because I could only handle so much of a character in a week. I'm sure somebody, somewhere, must like them. Possibly the author, although it read like he wanted to see how far he could push them down before trying to redeem them. They are realistic, well-written portrayals of rubbish people. <br />
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Characters don't have to be likable, but they do have to be interesting. This lot were neither. It feels like a contradiction, because I admired almost everything else. There were elements of the plot that were genuinely surprising and unsettling, with a proper sense of otherwordly nightmare. I like that kind of thing. I wanted this to be one of my favourite books. Obviously, there's plenty of fiction with horrible protagonists. Murderous thugs and villains that you want to watch or read about.This isn't that. This is pretending the heroes are relatable when they're actually deeply irritating.<i> The Magicians</i> is the first part in a trilogy. I want to read more but I can't, because I'd have to deal with these mopes again. It's not worth it. Five hundred pages can seem like a very long time. I'll forgive a book for being a bit boring if I like being with the characters. I can't forgive one that invents a world and a story that's completely brilliant, then sabotages it with people you only want to slap.Chris David Richardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02042114431864864898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2420106301930528063.post-32791293961103786592014-02-20T14:32:00.000+00:002014-02-20T14:56:16.854+00:00Firefly gets cancelled every time I watch it<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Rewatching <b><i>Firefly </i></b>has reminded me why it was so good in the first place. Where other television sci-fi fills its episodes with cosmic sorrow or grumpy aliens, this is about family. A bunch of characters on an old ship, floating around in space. It's just them. There's no vast fleet to think about. Only nine characters, and you care about them all. That's why it's so hard to see it end every time. The mythology of the expanded world is nice, and the space cowboy thing is so good it's seamless, but it's the characters that make it. It's hard to think of any other cast that fit together so well. When Mal says 'You're on my crew' to Simon, you really believe he means it. I'd choose this over <i>Galactica</i>'s army any day. On one of Adama's moody days, there isn't much fun to be had with the thousands of people in the fleet. On the other hand, I'd watch a whole episode of the Serenity crew just having dinner. They wouldn't even have to nearly die or anything, they could just sit at the dinner table eating noodles and having a chat. I'll never get to see that episode because inevitably, every time, <i>every single time I watch it</i>, it gets cancelled. I pretend it won't. On episode six I think it'll go on forever. On episode twelve I start to get worried. Then I'll watch <i>Serenity </i>and pretend that nothing bad is going to happen.<br />
<br />
At the same time, I wonder how its shortness changes our perception of it. These characters are preserved in one short season. It's easy to think they'll never change. That they'll go on like this forever, and we just won't see it. But they would have changed, obviously. By season three the crew might have looked completely different. The family would have been lost, people would have been replaced. There are unfortunate events in <i>Serenity </i>that prove that. Except, in my imagination, it would have always been the same nine. And there also isn't room for it to be bad. In every long series, there are times when the quality dips. The 'boring middle part of <i>Firefly</i> Season Four' can never happen, even though that sounds quite good. It<i> </i>might have been saved from all the criticism that happens to normal, not-cancelled shows. It sits above all that as something perfect and shiny, with an imagined legacy that isn't ruined by being real. It's easy to forget that this all happened ten years ago. It's still being talked about because it was ripped away from us, it's only half there, maybe inspiring more love than a proper run would have. When somebody awful decided to cancel it, to dismantle this whole world, they probably didn't know what they were starting.Chris David Richardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02042114431864864898noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2420106301930528063.post-25968236719889315832013-12-31T20:05:00.000+00:002013-12-31T20:05:53.258+00:00All the Bond films, from best to worstA while ago I watched the first ten Bond films and <a href="http://mildlyinterestingthings.blogspot.co.uk/2013/03/ten-james-bond-films.html">put them into a list</a>. Now I've watched all the others, and put them into the same list. It's a long list. The best ones are at the top, the worst ones are at the bottom, and some things happen in the middle. It looks about right to me. I gave this a lot of thought. For some of them, almost five minutes. Here it is.<br />
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<br /><b>1.</b> Casino Royale<br /><b>2.</b> Skyfall<br /><b>3.</b> Goldeneye<br /><b>4.</b> Goldfinger<br /><b>5.</b> You Only Live Twice<br /><b>6.</b> Moonraker<b><br />7</b>. Live and Let Die<br /><b>8.</b> Dr No<br />
<b>9.</b> Tomorrow Never Dies<br />
<b>10.</b> On Her Majesty's Secret Service<br /><b>11.</b> From Russia With Love<br /><b>12.</b> The Man with the Golden Gun<br /><b>13.</b> The Spy Who Loved Me<br /><b>14.</b> Quantum of Solace<br /><b>15.</b> Die Another Day<br /><b>16.</b> The World is Not Enough<br /><b>17.</b> The Living Daylights<br /><b>18.</b> A View to a Kill<br /><b>19.</b> Octopussy<br /><b>20.</b> Licence to Kill<br /><b>21.</b> Diamonds are Forever<br /><b>22.</b> Thunderball<br /><b>23.</b> For Your Eyes Only<br />
<br /><i><b>Skyfall </b></i>is very good. I think it's the best looking, best directed Bond film, and a solid, significant story. It seems like a change of pace. It's almost atmospheric, particularly in its build-up to one of the creepiest Bond villains. It deserves to be right at the top, but really, I just prefer <i><b>Casino Royale</b></i>. These films come down to a blend of serious and silly, and <i>Casino Royale</i> gets that exactly right. Its story might be less clean and a bit sprawling, but where <i>Skyfall</i> is grim, <i>Casino Royale</i> is escapism. It's got high-stakes poker in a fancy casino and sinking buildings in Venice. For pretty much all of <i>Skyfall</i> Bond is in a mood, but here he's funnier and more confident and sure of his own invincibility. It does all that while still seeming weighty and important, with real characters and plot. That seems like a strange thing to say, but when it comes to things like character and plot, most of these films don't bother. There isn't always a story. Sometimes it's just bits of talking about missiles and satellites to string the action together. <i>Casino Royale</i> and <i>Skyfall</i> are about the people, and that's why they work so well.<br /><br />They're not the best because they're new. <b><i>Quantum of Solace</i></b> is proof of that. It's a flimsy series of action sequences held together by nothing at all. It seems like a better film than it is because of Daniel Craig, but even he can't save it. There's nothing there. Nothing memorable. There are others, that even when they're not bothering to be serious, work because you can remember than, and they're just good fun. I was worried that <i><b>Goldeneye </b></i>might be all nostalgia, but it really is one of the best. After that the Brosnan films go downhill, with the quite-good-really <i><b>Tomorrow Never Dies</b></i>, and the really-very-boring <i><b>World is Not Enough</b></i>. <b><i>Die Another Day</i></b> is only worth talking about as context for how off the rails things went. The invisible car and ice palace are fine, but the bit where he surfs down a crumbling cliff then rides the wave to safety is so out of place it could have ruined the entire franchise.<br /><br />I'd like to write about the Dalton films, but I can't really remember them, which probably says more than enough. At least they were better than the last few Roger Moores. <i><b>For Your Eyes Only</b></i> is at the bottom of the list for being more boring than all the other boring ones, even <b><i>A View to a Kill</i></b>, which is the one with the airship. Trying to reboot it with a serious tone didn't work as well with Dalton as it did with Daniel Craig. It seems like the series goes through cycles. It doesn't always know what it wants to be. When everyone gets tired of the jokes they put on serious faces, and when that gets old they try to have more fun again. It's when the two meet that things go best. And anyway, this list is just how I saw it, and it's not always easy to judge. I know that I enjoyed <i><b>Moonraker </b></i>more than I thought I would, but <i><b>On Her Majesty's Secret Service</b></i> is still just hanging around, maybe a few places too high. I might have been too mean on <i><b>Thunderball </b></i>- it was only at the bottom of four films before all the others piled on top of it. And who really knows or cares whether <i><b>Octopussy </b></i>is better than <i><b>Licence to Kill</b></i>?<br /><br />When it comes down to it, their age is irrelevant. It would be easy to say that the old Connery ones are the best, but they're not. If you ignore what you're meant to think about the style of the classics and the unfair advantage of modern special effects, <i>Casino Royale</i> is a better film than <i><b>Goldfinger</b></i>. It's harder to judge the present, but a good film can be made at any time, and the best work on this series has been done this century. That being said, they are hardly ever consistently good, so the next one might be rubbish.Chris David Richardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02042114431864864898noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2420106301930528063.post-57389870631998966412013-12-16T21:14:00.000+00:002013-12-16T21:14:07.615+00:00Earthbound is the game I missed twenty years ago<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRaN0BzCw7OLfltESJAwvSoZIjFFq36dlVAuJok9d5wrx3HO5QkWtTjFXv1HvheuZKSp-JJLmvxBh7cfHPGL9Ljb4pXgZpDAIKTvy8VjAYElEUD-cSYwI-ixFkoxcYeeTw1WEZb6MgkKo/s1600/ness.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRaN0BzCw7OLfltESJAwvSoZIjFFq36dlVAuJok9d5wrx3HO5QkWtTjFXv1HvheuZKSp-JJLmvxBh7cfHPGL9Ljb4pXgZpDAIKTvy8VjAYElEUD-cSYwI-ixFkoxcYeeTw1WEZb6MgkKo/s1600/ness.jpg" /></a>In 1994 Nintendo released a game called <i>Earthbound </i>on the SNES. At least, they released it in most parts of the world. It didn't come out in Europe until this year, possibly because they forgot about it. So I hadn't played it until now. I could have downloaded it from some dodgy website, but I like to be nice and legal, and I didn't really care that much. But it's a classic, both in the sense of it being really good and quite old. It's an adventure, about a boy leaving home to fight aliens with his friends. It's funny, and inventive, and charming, and reminded me how special games can be.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh55k-a088UUQez2gbXD1twraO6t7K63VTkaos_HWIZZl9_O3wCSNkTkGyW7gbcTSIaZQI4wjydERvNUyzOnM5i-bVgkaLqCLZIFvyfSpXgwcoTDpVryor3P06GlJROloDjADML2kesql0/s1600/paula.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh55k-a088UUQez2gbXD1twraO6t7K63VTkaos_HWIZZl9_O3wCSNkTkGyW7gbcTSIaZQI4wjydERvNUyzOnM5i-bVgkaLqCLZIFvyfSpXgwcoTDpVryor3P06GlJROloDjADML2kesql0/s1600/paula.jpg" /></a>Even by the standards of 1994, this is not a very good looking game. But at the same time it <i>is </i>a very good looking game, because sometimes all you need is a few pixels in the right place. And it's also just a basic RPG, even though that makes it constantly compelling. The thing that makes this game special is that, more than anything else I've played recently, there's a sense of adventure. At the start, a boy wakes up in his bedroom, says goodbye to his family, and goes out to save the world. He wanders around the town, eating burgers and fighting snakes. He goes to the next town, saves a friend from a brainwashed cult, then goes to the next town to fight zombies. Soon you're on a different continent altogether. There's a long way to walk, and it's always strangely brilliant. It's funny, and I don't just mean there's a few jokes. The entire game is a surreal comedy, both in the <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4I3dEOVPjCjqkcYcuExJb2LJSPBE2S4DkvwVZ7cpWdP2YzHvvkBrJAFnm9itCPbUgOlQlAJ3eCi83c7qyxCKPWUfm1VNJD7UrlFeAik66TbXISF-SGVfPm3rMwoOH_zfoiNXS4rnyix0/s1600/jeff.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4I3dEOVPjCjqkcYcuExJb2LJSPBE2S4DkvwVZ7cpWdP2YzHvvkBrJAFnm9itCPbUgOlQlAJ3eCi83c7qyxCKPWUfm1VNJD7UrlFeAik66TbXISF-SGVfPm3rMwoOH_zfoiNXS4rnyix0/s1600/jeff.jpg" /></a>script and the way it plays around with gaming conventions. This was back in the days when games were made by a few people, and this is all the vision of one Japanese designer, Shigesato Itoi (and translated to English by one guy). It's a very personal game - to the people who made it, and to the people who played it.<br />
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I didn't realise how wrapped up I was in all this until I was standing in a desert and a monkey taught me how to teleport. Suddenly, after plodding around the whole world, I
could warp to wherever I wanted. I didn't go straight for some item shop or old dungeon. The first thing I did was teleport home. There was no reason, even in the story, for me to go back to the house where I started, but that's what I felt I needed to do.When I got there my mother was watching television, and said she was proud of me for saving the world. My point is that with simple graphics
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTkyqV7H0qFlAktCNAjWMG-erJJuQJiwQnFBLsYKrCA9b39V5IIjL3Rzh43TaI2bNxp0b2TBNQtcoE_uColy8HU_mqQF0cFE0nAKfJDj02_XI1SDZvKtLFF5r6eug71hYmc6LWi4CyOP0/s1600/poo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTkyqV7H0qFlAktCNAjWMG-erJJuQJiwQnFBLsYKrCA9b39V5IIjL3Rzh43TaI2bNxp0b2TBNQtcoE_uColy8HU_mqQF0cFE0nAKfJDj02_XI1SDZvKtLFF5r6eug71hYmc6LWi4CyOP0/s1600/poo.jpg" /></a>and brilliant writing, this game from twenty years ago made me care.
It's a shame I didn't play it back then, because good game + time = nostalgia. I know it would be something I'd look back on as being part of my childhood, as many other people do. More than any other media, games are what I remember from that long ago. The best ones can take you back to another time, even by just hearing the soundtrack. They are different worlds that never change. Parts of your childhood that you can always go back to. To a lot of people, <i>Earthbound </i>is that special. To me, twenty years late, it's just a very good game.Chris David Richardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02042114431864864898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2420106301930528063.post-50554781010782816232013-11-28T21:25:00.000+00:002013-11-28T21:42:32.658+00:00Modern cinema doesn't work with my eyes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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A few years ago I went to see <i>Toy Story 3</i> in 3D, and wrote that I was <a href="http://mildlyinterestingthings.blogspot.co.uk/2010/09/all-i-have-seen-through-dark-glasses.html">pretty sure</a> I couldn't see the 3D effect. Now I've seen <i>Gravity </i>in 3D, and I'm definitely sure I can't see the 3D effect. Maybe the fact that it was three years between these films shows that I might not be that interested in 3D. But I saw many other films in that time. Nice, enjoyable 2D films that displayed easily visible images. The problem is, as I have already said twice, I can't see the 3D effect. I don't really know what it is, but it sounds impressive when other people describe it. Things fly out of the screen and hover right in front of you, like you can touch them. But around 10% of people can't see this, and it disagrees with some people so much that it makes their head hurt. It's not so dramatic for me. When I put the 3D glasses on they only have the underwhelming effect of turning a blurry mess into a normal looking film, which is useful, but I didn't need an extra pair of glasses for that before. It looks like the film is on the screen, but a bit darker. There definitely isn't anything getting closer to me. There is nothing hovering, and I don't feel like I can touch it.<br />
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I have pretty normal eyes. They are short-sighted, or long-sighted (I can't remember), so I wear glasses. I can see real things that are in front of me, and can see when things are getting closer, because they are really there. But there is some technology in these 3D films that doesn't work with my eyes. This isn't really a problem, except that it has ruined a good film for me. I'm sure <i>Gravity </i>is good, because I was able to see most of it. The effects were very impressive, even when I'm wearing what are now just effectively rubbish sunglasses. But I didn't enjoy it. The main point of <i>Gravity </i>is the visual spectacle, and I couldn't see the visual spectacle, at least not the good bits everyone else was seeing. At no point was I immersed in the film, because I was always wondering what I was missing. I wanted to know what everyone else could see. This has never happened before. I've seen lots of films. I think I'm quite good at watching films. This was the first time I felt inadequate.<br />
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It's like being on a rollercoaster, but my car takes a slightly different track that doesn't have any loops or drops, and just ambles along. I can see everyone else speeding around me, but I have to just fold my arms and feel annoyed. That's what <i>Gravity </i>made me feel - annoyed. It's not intense, or gripping, or a brilliant showcase for the wonder and awe of cinema - just annoying. I don't think they were going for that. And so the obvious solution is to not watch 3D films. I can do that, because they're not very important and very easy to avoid for years, but I just wonder what I'm missing. I want to know what these floating things look like. I want to know if it would really seem like something was hurtling out of the screen towards me. And I want to know what it's like to watch <i>Gravity.</i>Chris David Richardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02042114431864864898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2420106301930528063.post-50815624781324799052013-11-12T22:02:00.000+00:002013-11-12T22:12:42.279+00:00Some thoughts on some television<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The advantage of having a blog is that I can write down random, half-formed thoughts and keep them forever, as if they were important. So here's some words on two things that have no connection other than being here on the same page.<br />
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<b>Boardwalk Empire</b><br />
This show is still a mystery to me.
It's on its fourth season now, and it's pretty good, but I completely
forget about it when it's not on. Completely, like I hadn't been watching
it for thirty hours. And then there's new episodes, and I'll watch them
and enjoy them and be reminded of all these men in hats. I still don't
know some of their names, but a lot of them want to murder each other.
Often in very stylish, violent ways. The problem is, I wouldn't mind if I
never saw another episode, even though it's impressive. I don't know what it's
doing wrong. It has some of the best performances on television (Michael
Shannon, in particular, always looks like he's about to burst) and some
of the most intelligent, thoughtful writing. Maybe I'd enjoy it more if
it was focused on one tight group of characters. Having a vast and
separate cast can work brilliantly, like in <i>The Wire</i> or <i>Game of Thrones</i>,
but here it might be too big for its own good. I want more of
Richard's story, and Nucky's relationship with his brother and Margaret,
not more conversations with gangsters I'm not sure I recognise, who
mention other gangsters I don't think I know. I will watch every episode
and enjoy them, I just wonder if, outside of a few brilliant characters, <i>Boardwalk Empire</i> will be remembered as one of the greats.<br />
<b> </b><br />
<b>The Newsroom</b><br />
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I liked the first season of <i>The Newsroom</i>. I wrote a <a href="http://mildlyinterestingthings.blogspot.co.uk/2012/09/why-everyone-hates-newsroom-but-i-like.html">long defence</a> of it, which usually happens when I'm annoyed that other people have different opinions to me. It was a show that had problems, but I thought it would be better in the second season, when it could really settle in. Now, after nine new episodes, there's good news and bad news. The good news is that the second season is a huge improvement over the first, and one of the most enjoyable pieces of television this year. The bad news is that I have to praise it rather than rant about it, which is less fun for me, and makes shorter blog posts. So this time there was a proper running storyline, less focus on real news, and no silly love stories. We've spent time with these people now, and they're still a family. Don and Sloan, who weren't much of anything before, become two of the most likable characters. And that's it, the whole thing is <i>likable</i>. It would be easy, and boring, to over-analyse the politics of it, and miss how much fun it is to spend time in Sorkin's fantasy newsroom. There needs to be more.Chris David Richardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02042114431864864898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2420106301930528063.post-35485801687802237232013-10-16T17:03:00.000+01:002013-10-17T13:37:32.710+01:00The end of Dexter still bothers me<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>(Spoilers. For Dexter)</b> After watching <i>Dexter </i>for eight seasons, I was expecting big things for the last few episodes. I wanted to see what they had been building towards the whole time. Would Dexter finally be revealed and be hunted by his friends? Would he lose his grip and descend into nasty madness, and still nobody would notice? Whatever it was, they'd been promising big things for years, and it would be worth the wait. Except, as it turned out, they didn't really have anything.<br />
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<b>The problem is, I thought it was a different show.</b> It's not adventurous. At least, it hasn't been for a long time. The writers were taking it season by season, making important things up as they went along. The decision they made, in the end, was to make Dexter nicer. So nice that it turned out he didn't have to kill anybody, even though he always told us he did. And an irrelevant villain appeared in the last few episodes. And everyone hung around cooking lovely dinners until Dexter could get on a plane. There were new characters, new developments, and other things that didn't matter at all, because all I wanted was the insane explosion of a season I'd been promised. It didn't happen, and then poor Debra, who had put up with a lot, died, and it was even sadder that by that point I didn't seem to mind. The last episode was strangely boring, being mainly focused on whether Dexter's girlfriend could catch a bus. If I was ever really promised something, I didn't get it.<br />
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<b>And what would Dexter do?</b> Would he get away with it? Would he be killed? No, he... did something irrelevant. It wouldn't have seemed so bad if he had ever mentioned lumberjacks, or said something about logs, or beards, but he didn't. It came out of nowhere. I understand that he wanted to live alone, but this isn't how television is meant to work. You can't introduce something random in the last minute. Eight seasons, I was watching this. Ninety-six episodes. Ninety-five hours, fifty-eight minutes, then lumberjack. He could have given us at a hint. He explained everything else to the ghost of his father inside his head, but not this. After all the murder and lies, the close escapes and near misses, the drama and the tragedy and the psychopaths, it finally comes to an end and then, lumberjack. I still don't understand.*<br />
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This was a good show, for at least the first four seasons. And the seventh. And even when it was bad it did a good job of pretending it wasn't. It's a shame, then, that I'll always remember that the end was nonsense.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">* After reading <a href="http://www.avclub.com/articles/showtime-told-dexter-writers-they-couldnt-kill-dex,103892/">this</a>, it might not be the writer's fault. </span>Chris David Richardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02042114431864864898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2420106301930528063.post-24511505424041681002013-10-09T20:40:00.000+01:002013-10-09T20:40:44.424+01:00Finding something good to read<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>Good books come from different places.</b> A friend might recommend something to you. You might overhear something being mentioned. Sometimes a good book just makes itself known, by being in the right place at the right time, or by strange coincidence, or by just being really famous. Sometimes I don't know what to read next, but a good book always turns up, by the mystical forces of whatever. What doesn't work, is going to look for one. Especially on a computer. I don't think computers have any idea what a book is, even though they help to make them. To a computer, a book is just a collection of words that someone has typed, bits of data that become an object you can buy. Sites like Amazon don't give recommendations based on the real content of a book, they just know that somebody who bought this also bought that, and so you should buy it too. It's logical, but not very useful. Only a person knows what a good book is.<br />
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<b>I made an account on Goodreads</b>*. It's a website that recommends books. That's the whole point of it. You tell it all the books you've ever read and it shows you other things. I think, though, it might be a bit useless. My first mistake was saying I really like a Haruki Murakami book. It's response seemed to be, 'here are some more writers from Japan'. Never mind. And it's divided everything into genre, like fantasy, sci-fi, and 'mystery', because if there's one thing your book collection is missing, it's <i>discipline. </i>I've never thought, 'yes, I would like to read some science fiction now, I will go and look for some science fiction'. I just want something I'll enjoy. I don't know what genre things are half the time. Goodreads says that one of my favourites, <i>The Road</i>, is science fiction, despite that not being true at all.<br />
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The biggest problem with all this, though, is that it will never recommend something completely different to me. Something I never would have thought of. Only a friend can say 'this is brilliant, you should read it'. And that's the only recommendation I'm going to trust. Stupid internet.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Like all social media, it does a good job of making you feel inadequate in a really blunt way. The first thing it tells me is 'You have no friends yet'. Oh.</span>Chris David Richardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02042114431864864898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2420106301930528063.post-51779952444421905992013-03-26T18:51:00.000+00:002013-03-26T18:51:25.717+00:00No, but really, Google are actually making these glasses?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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A while ago I wrote a post about Google's glasses, and their <a href="http://mildlyinterestingthings.blogspot.co.uk/2012/04/idiot-goggles.html">awful, awful video</a>. And, to be honest, I thought they were joking. But it turns out they're making these things. They're glasses that do everything you'd expect a smartphone to do, except that it's on your face. The thing is, this is obviously a bad idea. Anyone can see that. Why would you actually want to wear one everyday, in your life? Who would want that? Apparently, some people do, according to their YouTube comments. "I've wanted something like this for years," says an actual person. At least you'll know who to avoid.<br />
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<b>It looks silly</b>, but real glasses probably looked the same at first. The problem is that you'll be talking to somebody with a contraption on their face, and they can take pictures, and record you, and analyse your voice patterns to send back to headquarters for processing. Every now and then they'll stop talking, go cross-eyed to check IMDB, and then look back at you, if you're still there. Then, distracted by the glowing icons in front of their eyes, they walk into a lake <br />
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<b>It's obviously going too far.</b> The main difference between this and a phone is that they don't want you to glance at it and then put it in your pocket, they want you to see through it all day. We're already constantly connected to the internet, so why do we need it on our face? It's adding technology to ourselves in a way that is far too invasive. Anyone wearing this would literally be seeing the world <i>through </i>the internet. It would become part of them. It's not so essential that we need to attach it to one of our senses. We don't need to look through a wall of icons and messages. That doesn't need to come first. What's even more sinister, is that this will be connected to Google's social network. Everything you see will go through them, turning people into Googlebots. They must realise this sounds fairly evil, but they're still doing it. It's like the start of an episode of <i>Doctor Who</i>.<br />
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I'm sure they mean well really, but outside of their imagination and a few silly people, who is going to want this?Chris David Richardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02042114431864864898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2420106301930528063.post-59475618932609078212013-03-20T21:53:00.000+00:002013-03-20T22:15:11.251+00:00Ten James Bond filmsI've been watching the James Bond films in order from the start. There's a lot of them, and they're all mostly the same, but all mostly good. I realised I haven't seen a lot of them before, so it's a bit like connecting the dots between the famous parts. There's the bit where he runs over crocodiles. And the bit where the car flips over a bridge. And a woman gets covered in paint. And all this other stuff happens in between. So much stuff that I need to organise it. I need to make a list of some sort. A list that ranks the quality of the ten films I have seen so far, and is almost completely infallible.<br />
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<b>1.</b> Goldfinger<br />
<b>2.</b> You Only Live Twice<br />
<b>3.</b> Live and Let Die<br />
<b>4.</b> Dr No<br />
<b>5.</b> On Her Majesty's Secret Service<br />
<b>6.</b> From Russia With Love<br />
<b>7.</b> The Man with the Golden Gun<br />
<b>8.</b> The Spy Who Loved Me<br />
<b>9.</b> Diamonds are Forever<br />
<b>10.</b> Thunderball<br />
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<b>I have no idea about <i>On Her Majesty's Secret Service</i>.</b> It was, really, a bit boring. He spent a lot of time in a rubbish disguise in Blofeld's allergy centre and, well, I can't remember the rest of it. But it's the one that sticks out, because he gets married, and then he isn't married anymore, and George Lazenby is there. He's a different Bond. One that can't act very well, but seems vulnerable and more serious. This is a film that's better when you're not watching it. It's interesting, rather than brilliant. So it sits in the middle of the list, out of place and a bit awkward.<br />
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<b>They are always rubbish when they end at sea.</b> Things blowing up on the ocean are always boring in Bond films. <i>The Spy Who Loved Me</i> was going fine until the water-fortress bit at the end. <i>Thunderball</i> is too long, and most of it is incomprehensible swimming. <i>Diamonds are Forever</i> just isn't very good. These three films are at the bottom of the list. It seems that everyone likes <i>The Spy Who Loved Me</i> apart from me, but I did like half of it - the first half, when he was in Egypt. Then hundreds of people were running around a submarine, and I didn't care anymore.<br />
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<b>There's a lot more to come.</b> After watching the first ten, it seems like James Bond films don't really know what they want to be. Sometimes they're really silly, sometimes they're serious. They take weird detours into whatever is popular at the time (he goes into space in the next one; he's an astronaut). But they are always recognisably the same thing. He goes to other countries and kills people, and the women like him even when he's old. Some people say that the modern films aren't comparable to these, that the new ones are better in a different way. I think it's unfair to the quality of (some of) the new films. <i>Casino Royale</i> could have been made in 1970, if they'd wanted to, and it would have been just as good. There's nothing wrong with being silly, if it's done well. Compare <i>You Only Live Twice</i> to <i>Die Another Day</i>. They're both nonsense, but one is good and the other has computer effects. I'm trying to judge these films outside of the time they were made. That being said, there's still a lot of Roger Moore to get through.*<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">* I actually think he's quite good, but I'm feeling pessimistic about the rest of his films. There's a lot of them, and one is called <i>Octopussy</i>.</span>Chris David Richardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02042114431864864898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2420106301930528063.post-1547169942400147032013-01-05T21:55:00.000+00:002013-01-05T21:55:42.175+00:00I watched The Cabin in the Woods<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Considering the years of pain some people went through waiting for <i>The Cabin in the Woods</i> to be released, it felt a bit strange to just sit down and watch it. There was a time when it looked like this film was going to drown in a financial hole, making it a lost Whedon classic that nobody was actually going to be able to see. And after all that, I still didn't know what it was about, because every review was desperate not to tell me. As it turns out, it's a horror film. Or a version of a horror film. Part parody, part incredibly inventive horror-comedy-fantasy-sci-fi-action-adventure-thing. It enjoys playing with your expectations. Five killable friends go to a house in the forest that's a long way from the emergency services, but close to evil monsters. And when all the nasty things are happening in the woods, it cuts to a control room where Bradley Whitford and Richard Jenkins are controlling the horror. It diffuses the tension and adds a comic layer to what is already a lot of self-referential cleverness.<br />
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I could write about how postmodern this all is, and use more words like 'diffuses', but that would be ignoring the fact that this film is just a lot of fun. Despite all the gore, it's friendly in that familiar Whedonish (or Whedonesque) way. It doesn't really want to scare you. It wants to invite you into its club of nerdiness, where everything is an in-joke. And it works as a film. It's an hour and a half, cut down to the essential bits without a moment that drags. And it's got Bradley Whitford in it. If, like me, you've spent half of your life watching <i>The West Wing</i>, you'll just expect him to start shouting about voter turnout. But he doesn't. He looks like he's going to, but then he talks about zombies instead.Chris David Richardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02042114431864864898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2420106301930528063.post-46492380922995835912012-09-24T19:19:00.001+01:002012-09-24T19:33:40.473+01:00Why everyone hates The Newsroom but I like it anyway<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Almost everyone on the internet hates <i>The Newsroom</i>. Reviews of each episode range from 'this is the worst thing ever', to 'at least it's not as bad as last week'. All the commenters join in and soon everyone's agreed that it's Not a Very Good Show. I watch an episode and enjoy it, then go on the internet to learn why I didn't really enjoy it after all. The argument is that it only looks and feels like good television if you let it wash over you, but if you think about it it all falls apart. The obvious thing to say here is that feeling like you enjoyed something is the same as enjoying it. But no, it's actually bad for you, apparently.<br />
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So is it just a lot of idealistic lecturing that goes nowhere? Sort of. It's Sorkin's view of the world, and that gets on most people's nerves. It's like <i>The West Wing</i> was how he wants things to be, and <i>The Newsroom</i> is him complaining that it's not. These aren't politicians who we watch doing something to fix the problem, they are journalists with Powerpoint presentations giving actual lectures. And because HBO gives him big long episodes, he's not forced to reign it in. This seems like a good enough reason to take against the show from the start, and if you do you're definitely not going to like the rest of it. It's true that not much has changed from the first episode of the season to the last, but if you like the characters it'll be a lot more fun. And I do like them. I feel like I have to apologise for that, but I do like them. Even the ones who don't seem to do much. Sorkin has never been very good at planning a whole season, so most of the narrative thrust and character moments are in individual episodes. I think 'Bullies' and 'Amen' are some of the best things he's written, even if they don't have much impact on the overall story. Maybe I just enjoy watching people fall over.<br />
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<i>The Newsroom</i> is, basically, about the successes and failures of making this news show, and the changes in Will's confidence and attitude towards it. That's a familiar idea. Replace 'news show' with 'comedy show' or 'government', and you've got the first seasons of other things. If you're looking for something else you're going to be disappointed, but it still works for me. It's about the staff coming together as a family, and the parents looking after the children. It's not the <i>The West Wing</i>, there's no characters that compare to Josh or CJ or Toby, but it's different. It's younger and a bit unsure of itself. Some of the characters need more time and some of them need less - it's more about the group as a whole. When Will defends one of his guys, or Charlie comes down to tell them off, you can see how this family works. It's got potential.<br />
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I'm not pretending that these romantic storylines aren't hopeless, or that they don't drag on. The whole Jim and Maggie thing has become toxic. In every episode it pretends to make some progress, then goes right back to where it was before. Jim must have broken up and got back together with Lisa about three times. <i>Three times</i>. The end of the ninth episode looked like a natural breaking point, but then it turns out to be two months later and nothing has changed. And then it goes through the whole thing again, picking up extra characters along the way. Sorkin must have decided to prolong this, so he must think we care. I used to, but it's been played so badly that I've lost interest. Though somehow, and I'm not sure how it happened, the Will and Mac thing eventually ground me down into caring. Eventually.<br />
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Ignore all that and look for the good stuff. Like everyone lining up outside Will's office to give him a cheque. Or the dialogue that is still as good as it ever was. Or most scenes with Charlie in them. There's something in this show that's good. Not great, but promising. It's somewhere underneath the lectures, doing its best to hide. It'll be easier to see in the second season, when most of the problems will have been ironed out, and it can really settle in.Chris David Richardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02042114431864864898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2420106301930528063.post-77104100116243193612012-06-03T20:47:00.000+01:002012-06-04T01:14:35.574+01:00Sigur Rós - ValtariAfter the album <i>Með suð í eyrum við spilum endalaust</i>, people thought that Sigur Rós were becoming too commercial. There were jaunty pop songs on there. And then Jónsi's side-project <i>Go </i>had jaunty pop songs sung in English. But now, on <i>Valtari</i>, they've gone a hundred miles in the opposite direction. It's ambient, introverted, and relaxing. It's calm. This is what they've come back to after a long hiatus, and it sounds a little bit like they've come home. <i>Með suð </i>was a departure (a very good departure), and then they went back to Iceland to record something much more patient and experimental. At times it sounds like <i>Takk</i>, in others <i>Ágætis byrjun</i>, but it is much quieter. Ambient choirs, electronic soundscapes - it has most in common with the Jónsi & Alex album<i> Riceboy Sleeps</i>. It is not an immediate thing, and is best listened to all at once. They occasionally turn the volume up, like on the third track, with a familiar build to somewhere loud. But they finish with three ambient instrumentals that show they're confident enough to do what they want. It goes without saying that this is all beautiful, and when all is said and done, I think <i>Valtari </i>will be remembered as one of their best.<br />
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YouTube videos sound flat compared to the proper deep sound quality of the actual album, but, er, yeah, here's a YouTube video. <br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/EQNiK2dQvT0" width="640"></iframe></center>Chris David Richardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02042114431864864898noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2420106301930528063.post-62917685260494070412012-05-25T23:55:00.000+01:002012-05-25T23:58:58.476+01:00Three things about The Grey<div style="text-align: right;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixujFdL0O8R1Qnj9E3gkT2nwEEVpUEWPJg13_S3W7s6NFKrm0FdcAjsHN2vPZeqQNp-o9NFnMlW6L8igcnJEfiDoGzTC3-h-Lo36h2ztIHSfD-dVilhnGiTNIRszqtwdk3QVjxyScqiMI/s1600/neeson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixujFdL0O8R1Qnj9E3gkT2nwEEVpUEWPJg13_S3W7s6NFKrm0FdcAjsHN2vPZeqQNp-o9NFnMlW6L8igcnJEfiDoGzTC3-h-Lo36h2ztIHSfD-dVilhnGiTNIRszqtwdk3QVjxyScqiMI/s400/neeson.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
I haven't done this in a while. I don't know how to 'review' films in a coherent way any more, if I ever did. But here's something you should watch. <i>The Grey</i>. The wolf-punching film. Here's three things about it.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Big wolves are scary.</b></span> These things chase Neeson and his friends through the snow. They're massive. And loud. And have scary eyes. They are always just around the corner, ready to jump into the camera and rip somebody's throat out. This is the best disaster film I've ever seen. The sort where you start with a group of people, and you have to decide which one's going to last the longest. There's a variety of ways to die out in the Alaskan woods. Including...<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Staring into the void. </span></b>Not a void. <i>The </i>void. The big one. This film is full of the void. They're walking around in it. One gets so full of the void he gives up entirely and sits on a log for the wolves to eat him. At one point Neeson shouts at the sky, but God doesn't come, so he decides to go on by himself. There is no God. There is only the void. It's not a comedy.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Liam Neeson says cool things.</b></span> These days it doesn't get any harder than Liam Neeson. He can say anything about anything, and it's cool. Of the wolves, he says 'they don't give a shit about berries and shrubs'. They certainly don't. And imagine this, but in a deep menacing Irish accent: '<span class="line">We're going to get a large branch and sharpen the end
of it, and we're going to shove it up this thing's ass, then we're going
to eat it.'</span>Chris David Richardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02042114431864864898noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2420106301930528063.post-25764351398952414492012-05-11T00:59:00.000+01:002012-05-11T01:08:02.161+01:00The clumsy art of trying to name a bookI'm halfway through writing a book. It doesn't have a title. One day I'll finish writing the book. It still won't have a title. The problem is I think of something brilliant, and then the next day realise that it's rubbish. The title is meant to be obvious as soon as I hear it. It's probably right under my nose. And where do I get these titles from? Random words I pull out of thin air that I think might describe the book, or just sound vaguely cool. Do I go for a neat one-word title or one that's slightly too long? There's so many options, and none of them are any good. Here's some of the ones I threw away.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>The Last Children of the Mountains</b></span></div>
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Too pretentious.</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>The Boy in the Broken Mountains</b></span></div>
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It was pointed out to me that this sounds like 'Brokeback Mountain', and my book is not about becoming old or gay.</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Nowhere</b></span></div>
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I like this, but it might be too vague, even for me.</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">It's Very Quiet in the Mountains</span></b></div>
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I thought this sounded really ominous at the time, but I've since realised it's not. 'Yes, it is quiet in the mountains, what's your point?'</div>
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If I think of one, and I <i>might</i>, then it had better be good. Once something's in print it's... there, in print. I'm trying not to think about it. The next chapter is more fun.</div>Chris David Richardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02042114431864864898noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2420106301930528063.post-3409944593324207362012-04-06T14:40:00.000+01:002012-04-06T14:40:35.154+01:00Idiot gogglesGoogle have presented an idea for Terminator-style glasses that make phone calls and things. It's an awful idea, but that's not what I want to talk about. I'm more concerned about this terrible video they've made.<br />
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Let's see the nauseating day in the life of a hip downtown New Yorker. He drinks coffee. He eats bread. He's just like you. Except then he opens his mouth, and it turns out he's deeply annoying. 'Yeah, meet me in front of Strand Books. At two.' I wouldn't. So he goes outside while the sickening breezy music plays as the soundtrack to his life. It's not coming from the glasses. It's inside his head. It plays in his mind as he ambles from one coffee shop to the next. But the subway's closed. How's he going to react to this? 'Aww man, really?' Yes man, really. Fortunately, he makes it to the book shop without going out of fashion. But where's the music section? Shall he not just use his eyes? No, he <i>asks the glasses</i>. He finds what he's looking for. An instruction book for the ukulele. Of course, <i>of course</i> he plays the ukulele.<br />
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Is Paul here yet? Or has he got lost in the non-fiction section? Thankfully, Paul is sharing his location, and we can confirm that he is 402 feet away. And getting closer. When he arrives our suspicions are confirmed. He's another smug git. The awful humans go to a truck to buy some products, but not before the first one can 'check in' his location on the internet. <i>Who does this?</i> And if there is anyone, they must be stopped. You'll find that they only 'share' the cool places they've been. It's not 'yes, I'm on the toilet now, and later I might stand in a field'. Never mind, surely the worst of it is over. No, there's just enough time for him to serenade 'Jess' on the ukulele, while seeing the wonders of a setting sun though his gadget eyes.<br />
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My real problem with this is that Google assume this is desirable. This is who we all want to be isn't it? A rich trendy man in sunny America. It's okay though, because these people will inevitably wander into traffic while checking their email.<br />
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