Reflections on TV & Film

Baise-Moi: The great thing about *beep* Me is that it serves to expose, say, Thelma and Louise for what it is: a 'feelgood' movie that conforms to Hollywood conventions by (admittedly, skillfully) pressing all the usual sentimental buttons, rather than being the thoughtful and insightful visual poem on women's oppression I probably thought it was in my early 20s. Baise-Moi goes on the offensive, subverting the genre and kicking against the pricks all the way. Refreshing.

Blackeyes: Seeing it again for the first time in 18 years what struck me most forcefully was how much better it is than my memory, and the programme's reputation, had led me to believe. We're familiar with the plot and the narrative and storytelling devices Potter used, but it's the use of sound that I find compelling: the way in which the various voices (whether in terms of ordinary speech, the music box as a signifier of childhood, or the sighs of sexual congress) are subtly interwoven with the (problematic) visual construction of the piece. It's the editing that lets it down - it's unnecessarily long. Together with the familiar question of how much the film itself objectifies women as sexual objects, these observations have convinced me that a shortened, audio version of Blackeyes would work brilliantly as a radio play or 'talking book'.

Day of the Woman/I Spit on Your Grave: Was the sex real? If I had a pound for every time that question was asked about movies... etc. The answer is invariably 'no', and to ask it of a film where there is rape after rape after rape is plain perverse. Think about it, if the 'sex' was real in this instance you may well be talking about a recording of actual violent assaults - something akin to the mythical 'snuff' movie. Whatever, I didn't even want to discuss the matter in the first place, until the sight of the dumb question compelled me to. No, I just wanted to say that, whatever the intentions, it's a peculiarly crass and prurient film (without absolutely no redeeming features whatsoever).

I did manage a giggle, though: in the bath scene, either the guy has a 12 to 15 inch cock or she's not reaching far enough. 'Realism', eh? Hmm.

Now, I shall do my best to forget about the whole experience.

Lipstick on Your Collar: I'm lucky enough to have both the series on VHS and the original soundtrack on cd. It was a wonderful drama, and the last near-great one from the pen of the mighty Dennis Potter. One thing it captures so well is that moment when the British ruling class had to face up to the fact that the loss of the Suez Canal meant, on the one hand, the decline of the British Empire and, on the other, the ascendancy of Pax-Americana. And yet, the stirrings of post-war optimism are also captured in the character of Mick Hopper. The casting is superb - Giles Thomas, Louise Germaine, Ewan McGregor, Douglas Henshall, Peter Jeffrey and Maggie Steed are all brilliant. Lipstick is far from being Potter's best work, but then he set a high benchmark with Pennies From Heaven and The Singing Detective (the best television drama ever made, bar none). It is, nonetheless, essential viewing, and alongside Blackeyes, should've been made available on DVD long ago.

Don't Drink the Water: To think of all those years that I spent wondering what this was like... and then, oh dear, along came the 1994 film version. It really is quite breathtakingly bad - an offensive, dumb, shrill, antiquated farce with absolutely no redeeming qualities. Why Allen chose to film this trash a quarter of a century after the original film and play is a mystery. It makes the woeful Everything You Always Wanted To Know About Sex look like a mature and sophisticated comedy classic.

I think I'll stick with my 10 Allen faves: Play It Again, Sam, Sleeper, Love And Death, Annie Hall, Manhattan, Stardust Memories, The Purple Rose of Cairo, Hannah And Her Sisters, Radio Days and Crimes and Misdemeanors.

Let Him Have It: 'Some ten years before the Bentley case, two men involved in the killing of a policeman were sentenced to death, helped by police testimony in which it was alleged that one of the men incited his accomplice using an almost identical phrase. In fact the phrase was so similar (with the exception of the name "Chris"), it has been alleged that this case was discussed by police officers who were on the rooftop the night P.C. Miles was killed as they prepared their reports, and that the similarity was more than a coincidence'.

Recent research is more emphatic. I think we can safely say that the phrase 'Let him have it' was indeed 'borrowed' from a previous case. Also, the policeman was shot by another policeman, not Craig. The only murder in this tale is that of Bentley, by the state. Nonetheless, while the film is not a properly factual account, it is truthful. That is to say, it makes it plain that the police, when they're determined to secure a conviction, can get away with anything. Anyone who thinks otherwise is either naive or a self-conscious apologist for British injustice.

Withnail & I: Two peripheral characters ponder and wander aimlessly, for want of a purposeful existence. This would be my one-line synopsis for Stoppard's wonderful Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, but it seems to me that it might just as well describe some other cast-iron favourites of mine, whether it's Withnail and I, Sideways (Miles and Jack), or (with rather less wandering about), Waiting for Godot (Vladimir and Estragon).

This probably isn't the place to wax lyrical about the sublime Sideways, but, as you all well know, amongst friends, strangers and 'friends-to-be' casual references to W & I are a kind of communicative currency, a reminder that we're all comedy fans 'in the know', but it's the pathos and poignancy of the story that resonates most of all. The 'not-quite-friendships' of many of my favourite narratives seem to reproduce the unresolved struggles of the world in the fraught realm between the love and resentment we feel towards those we find ourselves drawn to, and wherein the reality of our frustrated ambitions seems to be amplified.

And, for me, the comic catharthis and emotional punch of Withnail and I and Sideways act as a kind of imaginative bridge to and from Beckett and Stoppard's plays and the weightier philosophical questions they embody.

Why the Ladies Aren't As Fond of "W&I"

Any art worth its salt doesn't exclude anyone on the basis of their gender. Three of my favourite films, Desert Hearts, My Summer of Love and Fried Green Tomatoes have, in so many words, been written off by male friends of mine as 'chick' or 'dyke' flicks. That's their loss.

As I've said elsewhere, W & I deals with the 'fraught realm between the love and resentment we feel towards' the male counterparts 'we find ourselves drawn to, and wherein the reality of our frustrated ambitions seems to be amplified.' That only becomes a 'man thing' in so far it's about the qualities - or otherwise - peculiar to the kind of male friendships that Bruce Robinson proved to have a keen eye for; and he reflects on them with sensitivity and intelligence.

Because the semi-autobiographical dimension of the story implies a male-only world (Robinson says they were simply too poor to have girlfriends), perhaps we shouldn't be surprised to learn that W & I holds more appeal for a male audience. But methinks that what I've said would invite plenty of knowing nods from women.

Sadie Frost: 'Shopping', 'Final Cut', and 'Rancid Aluminium'. Ouch! Not exactly an enviable CV, is it? I mean, how many other people can claim to have starred in three of most appalling British films ever made? Maybe it's the curse of the Primrose set. Certainly, pretty much anything Sean Pertwee stars in should carry an 'approach with fear and trepidation' sticker on it, too. And, tellingly, the modestly talented pretty boy, Jude Law, only really showed signs of improvement after escaping their apparently stupefying influence.

Joanne Whalley: In reverse chronological order (and believe me, coming up with 10 was very difficult):

1. The Secret Rapture (1993)
2. The Big Man (1990)
3. Scandal (1989)
4. A TV Dante (1989)
5. Will You Love Me Tomorrow (1987)
6. The Singing Detective (1986)
7. The Good Father (1985)
8. Edge of Darkness (1985)
9. No Surrender (1985)
10. Dance with a Stranger (1985)

http://www.geocities.com/joannewhalley3/073.jpg

As central as she was to the U.K.'s little 80s golden age, it was - despite the odd moment - all downhill after 'Scandal'. I was lucky enough to be given a chance to soak up first class British films and tv drama in the mid 80s, when I was in my mid to late-teens. She'll always be a reminder for me of the excitement that gripped me when I first started to take film and drama seriously. And I'll be a happy man when the brilliant films 'No Surrender' and 'Will You Love Me Tomorrow' are finally released on dvd.

If someone can persuade me she's done anything of any interest in the last 10 years or so I'd be delighted to hear about it.

* Alternative title: the ONLY 10 films Whalley was in that are any good at all.

Capote: The film, whilst factual, sets out to condemn Capote, on the spurious grounds that he is culpable in the deaths of his new-found friend(s). It seems to me that that just lets everyone else off the hook; and the idea that Capote tumbled into a lifelong, guilt- and drink-ridden spiral thereafter, as a more or less direct consequence of his 'dastardly' actions, is a very dubious claim on Miller's part.