And then a further x3 cultural events this weekend, of varying degrees of culturedness.
Thirst - although I prefer its Korean title, bakjwi - is a vampire film. Though a vampire movie with all sorts of eccentric little twists. Some charming. Others simply gruesome. It isn’t a movie for those that struggle with copious blood-letting. And it isn’t quite so adorable as earlier this year’s Let The Right One In. But its storyline is as twisty and surprising as you’d expect from the man who made I’m A Cyborg But That’s OK. There’s some beautiful artful flying. Many beautiful artful moments in fact. Just lots of blood alongside it.
Then a dreadful thing called Macpherson’s Rant. Well, let’s be reasonable. It wasn’t entirely dreadful. It was just so in no way ever my cup of tea that I came (fairly quickly) to consider it dreadful. The production was perfectly competent. The set – a fine substantial revolve – made me want to weep for the money that had been flung at it. The lighting was pretty impressive. Lots of gobos. A follow spot. Money money money. There was some nice singing. Some raggedy dancing. First-time director Gaby did do incredibly well as she had a lot of people milling about the stage.
But the basic problem was that I had no interest in whether or not ranting Macpherson managed to track down poor but honourable Bess before she married the wicked, lustful and cruel Laird (Ian A – who wasn’t on stage nearly often enough for my liking). He didn’t manage it, more’s the pity, as then the show might have been shorter. But instead all sorts of marching and travelling and fighting ensued. And then I decided I was bored to the extent that I slept as the great denouement began to unravel in front of my shutting eyes meaning that though the Ranter unluckily got hung at the end, I’m not entirely sure why.
Far more entertaining was The September Issue. A documentary about the compiling of the plump-as-a-phone-box September issue of Vogue, masterminded by the inscrutable Anna Wintour. The film opens with a marvellous clip of Ms Wintour explaining that anyone who ridicules fashion is simply bitter as they feel excluded from it. That must be me then. This was wonderfully frivolous stuff. One block colour shoot looks much like another to me. But then I’m neither inscrutable or Anna Wintour. So what do I know?!
Thirst - although I prefer its Korean title, bakjwi - is a vampire film. Though a vampire movie with all sorts of eccentric little twists. Some charming. Others simply gruesome. It isn’t a movie for those that struggle with copious blood-letting. And it isn’t quite so adorable as earlier this year’s Let The Right One In. But its storyline is as twisty and surprising as you’d expect from the man who made I’m A Cyborg But That’s OK. There’s some beautiful artful flying. Many beautiful artful moments in fact. Just lots of blood alongside it.
Then a dreadful thing called Macpherson’s Rant. Well, let’s be reasonable. It wasn’t entirely dreadful. It was just so in no way ever my cup of tea that I came (fairly quickly) to consider it dreadful. The production was perfectly competent. The set – a fine substantial revolve – made me want to weep for the money that had been flung at it. The lighting was pretty impressive. Lots of gobos. A follow spot. Money money money. There was some nice singing. Some raggedy dancing. First-time director Gaby did do incredibly well as she had a lot of people milling about the stage.
But the basic problem was that I had no interest in whether or not ranting Macpherson managed to track down poor but honourable Bess before she married the wicked, lustful and cruel Laird (Ian A – who wasn’t on stage nearly often enough for my liking). He didn’t manage it, more’s the pity, as then the show might have been shorter. But instead all sorts of marching and travelling and fighting ensued. And then I decided I was bored to the extent that I slept as the great denouement began to unravel in front of my shutting eyes meaning that though the Ranter unluckily got hung at the end, I’m not entirely sure why.
Far more entertaining was The September Issue. A documentary about the compiling of the plump-as-a-phone-box September issue of Vogue, masterminded by the inscrutable Anna Wintour. The film opens with a marvellous clip of Ms Wintour explaining that anyone who ridicules fashion is simply bitter as they feel excluded from it. That must be me then. This was wonderfully frivolous stuff. One block colour shoot looks much like another to me. But then I’m neither inscrutable or Anna Wintour. So what do I know?!
posted by Claire at 10:17 pm
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