Last October I played a little game with myself: each morning I would take the Ossington bus on my way to work and get off at Shaw Street and walk along Queen Street West, about 20 minutes to the office. The game was to find one image each day that would work in black and white. I put the little Leica in my pocket and set out. As the files are large, I’m going to post a single image each day, in line with my original project. Advertisements
So David Bowie is dead at 69, of cancer (I guess you could say, cigarettes don’t kill people, smoking does). I don’t know about you, but I look at the story and – even as I register, oh gosh, it’s David Bowie this time! – go 69, eh, a little close for comfort. It’s the age at which someone has kicked the bucket – sloughed off this mortal coil, expired, what have you – that seems to grab my attention. First, of course, it’s who? followed closely by how? (more precisely, what type of grim disease or disaster) and then […]
For his sixtieth birthday my wife Roberta gave our good friend Boyd a book (I put Rob’s name there in full for the rhythm of the sentence). Appropriately enough the volume, a memoir on his sixtieth year (‘is this the end of the beginning or the beginning of the end,’ Toronto author Ian Brown evidently asks, in the vein of Churchill) was called ‘Sixty’ – you can read a review of it here. I haven’t read it, but I plan to. I mean, a book by a guy who names his haemorrhoid “George” has to be worth reading, right? There […]
Whatever circle of hell the jazz singer Amy Winehouse may have descended to, the documentary ‘Amy’ puts you right there with her, voyeur, watching. It’s an uncomfortable feeling. Observing the opportunists and piranhas circling – her drug-riddled boyfriend/husband, her creepy dad, the mobs of unfeeling, slavering paparazzi – as fame and addiction slowly swallow her is deeply disturbing. I hadn’t realised before this quite how unmediated and raw Amy’s songs were – life dumped on the page, bleeding. But what a voice, what a huge talent. And what a loss, and tragedy. A morality tale for the celebrity era. Verdict: Tough […]
The Danish Girl, set in Copenhagen and Paris in the 1920s and based on a true story, relates the travails of a married painter who decides he is a woman, and undergoes a sex change operation. Beautifully shot, wrenching. The universal in the particular. Director: Tom Hooper. Eddie Redmayne, Alicia Vikander Verdict: Strong stuff. Excellent. Double whisky
Set in a Swiss spa, ‘Youth’ focuses, if that is the word, on the philosophizing and reminiscences of two elderly creatives, one a composer, played by Michael Caine, the other a film director, played by Harvey Keitel. Director: Paolo Sorrentino Verdict: Artifice not art. Pretentious; lacks sparkle. Tap water.
The past is another country, and Mike Leigh shows us this is about more than differences in costume and manners. The world that JMW Turner, in this terrific portrayal, inhabits and paints is different from ours – none of our cold scientific rationalism, or post- post-modernism here. But then – this is not history, or biography, or art documentary, but drama, and a fine drama it is too. Beautifully, even lavishly filmed, there is nary a false brush-stroke to be found. Director: Mike Leigh. Timothy Spall Verdict: It’s a Mike Leigh film, right? A fine red wine – Rhone? Bordeaux?