clivemurray.com

I would like to make an official statement to the effect that I did NOT see the conclusion of the superb “Life On Mars” last night. What with one thing and another, I happened to be out of the house when it was on, and forgot to set the video.

I would further like to add that if anyone – ANYONE – spoils the ending for me before next week’s repeat on BBC4, I will set fire to you, so fucking help me.

Thank you for your attention in this matter.

–c.

Well, OK, there have probably been worse. But Jesus Crispy Jumped-Up Burning Christ and the Fucking Mary Chain, Revolver is shit.

No, really. Shit.

In fact, that’s probably being unkind to the very concept of excrement. The world needs shit. If we didn’t shit, we’d die, and if animals didn’t shit then farmers would have nothing to spray all over passers-by in the Summer months.

I think there’s the germ of a good film in there, but by $deity it isn’t the film that got made. Aside from the obviously Kabbalah- and ego-addled incoherent plot that opened up more streams than it ever thought about closing, it’s a good fucking hour too long. Just when you think “Ok, that’s quite enough now, I’ve given you the benefit of the doubt this far,” there’s still far too long to go.

Jesus. I just noticed that IMDB lists the running time as 115 minutes. I would have sworn it was at least 160.

Fuck my old boots, what a turkey. I just wish I’d read this Guardian review beforehand. I don’t like turkey, and I could have avoided it.

–c.

I happen to know that most – though not all – of the people who read this thing are people of roughly my age, meaning that they did a lot of growing up in the 80s, and are now in their 30s. I also happen to know that many of these people are people with an innate sense of fun and adventure, and are the type of people who refuse to grow up.*

This means that:
i) they grew up loving the film “The Goonies“, and therefore
ii) they should love “Without A Paddle” as much as I did.

Really. I just finished watching it and had to blog about it. You can feel the love of The Goonies coming out in the ridiculous plot. It’s… it’s just excellent. I’m no film critic, but I will say that Seth Green always does a good job and Matthew Lillard managed not to gawk all over the place, and the third guy (Dax Shepard, apparently) stole the show.

Yes, it’s an American buddy movie starring a collection of handsome young white men. Yes it features ridiculously stereotyped rednecks. But since the former simply makes for visually pleasant viewing and the latter is eclipsed by the fuckknuckle who currently runs the world, why not turn off your cynical debt-ridden jaded mind for 95 well-scripted minutes and remember how you felt when you first saw Chunk and Corey Feldman et al go looking for stuff under the thing, with the map, and wasn’t there a lighthouse, and then there was that bit with the waterfall… oh dude, and the ship! and the big bald guy in the ship! Whoa! That was awesome!

–c. (not aged 11, honest)

* Dempster, Clarke, Spaldin… I’m looking at you.

“I have of late–but wherefore I know not–lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory, this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o’erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.

What a piece of work is a man! how noble in reason! how infinite in faculty! in form and moving how express and admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals!

And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? man delights not me: no, nor woman neither [...]“

Jesus. Still hacking through series 3 of 24.

After about three episodes in a row yesterday, I just had to take a break. I felt like I’d been emotionally beaten up. Underwater.

Say what you like about how contrived it is, if you want exciting escapist action telly, in my opinion it doesn’t get a lot better than 24.

This blog takes place in real time.
–c.

Work: Trying to get my head around JSON, and Object Oriented Javascript. Having never written a single line of OO code in any language, I’m finding the subject just a bit impenetrable at the moment. Though, on re-reading that article by Dustin just now for the third or fourth time, I started to feel a balance tip in my head towards understanding. Did you ever do those “Magic Eye” pictures, that look like a messed up pattern and then suddenly you see the page become a 3D dinosaur or whatever? It was like the first time one of those starts to “work” for you. I was reading the words over and over, and suddenly I felt part of my world view begin to change fundamentally. But then, just like when you realise that the page is becoming 3D and you involuntarily focus, losing the picture completely, my mind rebelled and thought of something else. I’m going to come back to it after lunch. Then I’m going to read it a few more times. Then I’m going to damn well try it.

Home: Oscillating wildly between writing solos in Cubase for the Little Monkeys studio album, and filling every other spare second with series 3 of 24. No, really. Every spare second. Even Guildwars doesn’t stand a chance when Bauer Fever descends.

This blog entry took place between 12.41pm and 12.44pm.
–c.

Thoughts and hopes go out to Richard Hammond of Top Gear. A great TV presenter and seemingly genuine nice bloke with a love of dangerous machines. Get your short arse well and back behind the wheel, Richard. That’ll show them.

On that subject, could there be a little less hand-wringing and blamestorming, please? Richard and his fellow presenters enter into the events they undertake willingly and in full cognisance of the risks they are exposing themselves to, I am sure. Yes, if there had been faulty equipment or lax safety procedures, then that needs identifying, I agree. But everyone standing around pointing fingers at the BBC and saying “Oooh, it was bound to happen, I told you so” really isn’t fucking helping anyone, now is it?

Whether Top Gear glorifies dangerous driving and speeding in everyday life is a different subject, and should not be piggybacked on the issue of what happened to the Hamster.

Anyway, get well soon Richard. Your Dodge Charger is missing you.
–c.

So.

A bunch of James Bond “fans” have decided to boycott the forthcoming Bond film “Casino Royale“.

Why? Has it been funded by terrorists, oil magnates, or Dubya[1]? Nope. Has there been gratuitous harm of animals in the making of the film? Nope. Have the filmmakers desecrated some kind of holy icon or religious place either in the making of the film or in the events depicted within? Not as far as I’m aware.

Why then?

Ah, yes, of course. They don’t like the choice of actor playing the lead role. Silly me. Wasn’t it obvious?

Note to these “Bond fans”: Who the fuck do you think you are? Get over yourselves! Would you rather have Roger Moore back? Stop your fucking whining and attempt to continue enjoying a film franchise that long ago descended into the Hollywood-ised sequence of explosions and car chases that even Pierce Brosnan couldn’t make good. Excuse me, did you see “Die Another Day”? It was bollocks, and I didn’t hear you getting all het up over the invisible fucking car!

Fuck off.

–c.
[1] Who is or course both a terrorist AND an oil magnate.