A new arrival

Well, I have at last built up the courage to enter this blogging universe. I’ve not quite worked out the how, when and most importantly what of blogging but I’m sure that’s just a matter of time.

So for now just a word about the title. The Legal Zoo. I have a degree in zoology and a career in the law. Easy as that. An alternative reason might be the fact that working as a lawyer you have to deal with a whole range of species some of which can bite. Knowing which arachnid is which can help you survive in a world of braces and sharp suits (actually I don’t work on Wall Street). What do the two have in common – well their very own language and a fair amount of old school latin. What do they have apart. Well hopefully all sorts – the combinations are endless and with a bit of luck that will lead to some creative blogging. One way or the other the themes of one or other or both will no doubt run through the thoughts and comments.

Like a good old American anchor, I’ll need to create a cheesy sign off line but I don’t have that yet so for now I’ll say au revoir and be back soon.

NSE

The Proposal

He knew this amount of sweating couldn’t be just because of the climb. He knew he was unfit, but this unfit? No, this was pressure. He turned his back on her and took in the view, trying to play it cool. Just taking in the landscape drawn out before them in every direction.

Sarah was in the process of tying her laces. She was breathing in mouthfuls of that crisp summer air in an exaggerated fashion. Or was she just unfit and desperately trying to recover from the climb? Suddenly he was thinking about how Sarah might turn out. He was thinking bad and decidedly unfair things.

He considered slapping himself to get some semblance of control, but realised that it would have been a tad strange to do so, alone apart from Sarah on the top of a secluded hill. Then, as his mind tried to get off the point, he considered that slapping himself in any situation, particularly a social one, would be pretty strange. Would she want to marry such a strange man?

“Well, only one way to find out”

He glanced across to the gorse bush that crowned the hill. Glad to see it was still there. Knowing Rob had hidden the rucksack below its blanket of branches.

He looked back to Sarah who was trudging toward the plinth beneath the stone that marked the top of the hill.

The moment had arrived. He did an exaggerated shoulder lift and inhaled deeply. Then he strode towards her as she sat down.

Before she could unwind her fleece from her waist, he was in front of her, on one knee. He had a slight fight with his pocket, and the ring was before her, swiftly followed by the question. Blurted out. Not quite how he had pictured it, but not bad.

She flushed and then appeared to falter. The look on her face said she was witnessing something she thought would never ever happen – which was a reasonable assessment of the years running up to this moment. He couldn’t breath, starting to fear the worst. But then the moment broke. She offered a three letter response and it was hugs and a little kiss all round.

What followed was the normal conversation about nerves and rings and how unbelievably long it had taken him. But Dave was buzzing and keen to double down on the surprises.

“I’ve got a little surprise for you.”

Sarah looked sceptical given they were at the top of a grassy hill with just the clothes they had on.

Dave grinned, strode over to the bush and pulled out the rucksack triumphantly.

“What’s this?”

“A little celebratory picnic, you know. Due vin, … due Boursin?”

She looked genuinely surprised. He looked like the cat that had the cream. West country clotted. He reached into the bag and as his hand settled on the neck of a bottle, he pulled it free with a theatrical flourish.

Sarah raised her eyebrows. For a moment his brain couldn’t compute, then he looked down at the bottle of Blue Nun hanging from his hand. He almost dropped it.

Silence.

He smiled, trying to recover the situation, and reached into the bag for another item. An extra large packet of pork scratchings.

“You’re kidding me”. He reached in fearful of what might come next. The crinkle of plastic packaging heralded the arrival of a four pack of Tesco value Scotch Eggs.

“Fucking Scotch Eggs”.

He couldn’t stop now. He delved in again and again, like a man who had to keep buying tickets to an unlucky dip, each item thrown in a pile at his feet. Some limp celery. A microwave burger for one. Poptarts. And to finish him off, a packet of condoms – liquorice flavour.

He looked up to see Sarah in the process of falling off the plinth, in an earthquake of silent laughter.

He turned the bag over and shook it in an angry burst, hoping that something worth eating might fall out. Instead all it offered up was a small piece of paper, fluttering down and away. He stamped on it and then reached down to pick it up from his shoe.

It contained a short message.

“Hope we have provided all the necessary essentials for such a romantic moment. Please take a picture of your face – right now. Oh, and there’s a coolbox you may want to check out around the back of the bush. Give her a kiss from me… she’s a lucky girl. XX”

Bastards.

The weather held out nicely that day. And although they ended up sipping champagne and feasting on some fine produce, not everything in the rucksack went to waste in the end. You can’t beat a good poptart.

Prometheus (2012) ****

Back in 1979, Ridley Scott introduced us to the Nostromo, a deep space vessel whose commercial crew are awakened from hyper-sleep in response to an apparent SOS from a nearby planet. They visit the planet and pick up an unwanted passenger who subsequently wreaks havoc on the ship. This film was “Alien“. To this day it remains one of the best science fiction movies ever made as well as one of the best of the horror/thriller genre.

Over 30 years later, the same director, brings us another ship, Prometheus. Except with this ship, and with this film, Scott takes us back to before Alien and seeks to explain how the crew of the Nostromo ended up in that mess decades earlier. Also, as is his way, he assembles a fantastic cast to deliver this new masterpiece (with the standout performances from relative newcomer Noomi Rapace as Elizabeth Shaw and a fantastic portrayal of David by Michael Fassbender).

So, high expectations on my part (definitely a “pull the seat round in front of the TV for maximum impact” film). It’s connection with such a fabulous predecessor and the same director at the helm made this compelling viewing before I even pressed the play button. And the first half hour, maybe 40 minutes, I was smiling and excited. For the remainder, I was entertained but not over awed.

I think, ultimately, I was disappointed. But not because this is a bad film. It’s a good film. I just believed it could, and expected it would, be more. Particularly given the promise of those first 40 minutes (give or take the very first scene).

So why? Let’s delve for a moment into the hype, which all modern films are required to carry. I was led to believe that this film offered something different to the Alien series – dare I say something better. A breadth of fresh air and something altogether deeper and smarter. More cerebral.

Well, if that were true, then without even watching the opening credits, this was a potentially mixed blessing because, good though that sounds, the original Alien movie was very smart film making – it was conceptually new, ahead of its time and truly scary in parts. It created one of the most iconic film heroines and it ushered in a new generation in special effects. Most of all, it was original.

In Prometheus, Scott provides us with another crew sent out into the distant yonder, this time in search of what we believe could be our  ”makers”, based on some ancient cave maps scattered across Earth. So a crew is sent across the galaxy, finds the planet and sets down to try to unravel the secrets therein. This is where the film I believe quickly falls back into a well trodden path. We have the dysfunctional crew, we have the female heroine, we have the creepy cyborg and we have the going into dark rooms and touching things that common sense would clearly tell you not to. And it’s not a problem, because its done well and builds the tension effectively combined with some stunning visual effects.

However, when everything starts to go wrong, the film drops a few notches. Yes the scenes that follow are clever, thrilling in part and drive the film to its relentless conclusion – but it left me entertained not thrilled. Ultimately, it kept to the formula set over 30 years earlier, even if it was hidden below some layers of complexity, and therefore lacked that additional injection of originality.

And what of the cerebral angle? The film does kick up a few interesting, although not entirely unexpected, tensions. For example the question about how the concept of another race creating us sits with our existing religious beliefs – a different take on the concept of of intelligent design. But interesting though these are, and despite being cleverly weaved into the story, they are not enough to raise this film to a new level.

So expectations are a powerful thing. It’s a 4 start film but I expected it to be a 5. Against most other science fiction films, this is a very good movie. But Alien still looks down upon it from above.

Not out of sight but certainly a small climb.

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (2011) ***

One of my rules of thumb in movies is that a film never outclasses the book on which it is based. I am yet to come across an exception to this rule, and despite a strong cast and an excellent director, the same applies here.

That’s not to say that the book is class, despite its best-selling status. It’s good trash fiction. This is a good adaptation of a well structured trash fiction story but it would have to truly excel to beat the book – which it does not. What further plays against this book and solidifies my rule of thumb is that this is the first book in a trilogy. I have read all three. Recently. I have a clear idea in my mind of what these characters look like and how they behave. So, to be fair, the film had an uphill struggle from the outset. In fact given the furore around the books and the general bent towards all things scandinavian in film and TV, it was a brave move by Fincher (who is a truly great director) to take this on.

To the casting team’s credit, Mara Rooney is very close to my Lisbeth Salander. Daniel Craig, as Mikael Blomkvist is not. And what’s with the glasses hanging from one ear? I tried it, its ridiculous.

So, for those who know nothing of either book or film (all 3 of you), this is the basic premise. Blomkvist is an investigative journalist who has just been sold down the river by a source. As part of a forced exile from the magazine on which he works, he takes a job from Henrik Vanger (a well cast Christopher Plummer) who asks him to move up to the Vanger island (the Vanger’s own a multinational corporation) to investigate the murder of a member of the Vanger Family decades earlier. Parallel to this is the focus of the trilogy, Lisbeth Salander. A social outrider, originally brought onboard to investigate Blomkvist for the Vangers and then recruited by him to support the investigation and the character that forms the spine of the trilogy.

It’s a beautifully shot film (although nothing knew on what is becoming a tried and tested bleak canvas that represents Scandinavian countries). The story has, in Salander, a very unique character and Fincher exploits this effectively. Craig creates a take on Blomkvist, but his cinematic persona follows him into this film and its the wrong one for this role. I think Blomkvist would be better with a little more paunch and a little less chisel given he mainlines coffee and cigarettes in the book. I also like the casting of Stellan Skargard – a man of so many films and one who depicts Martin Vanger perfectly in his quiet and understated way.

So yes – everything is more or less there, making this watchable (apart from a couple of gruesome parts – it’s not a lovely story). But it lies in the eclipse of the book and that will always be a problem. Sorry Mr Fincher.

The adventures of Tintin – the secret of the Unicorn (2011) ****

Tintin, the much loved flemish explorer, with his little white dog Snowy, could only be described as excellent source material for an epic and groundbreaking film from two of cinemas heavyweights,  Peter Jackson and Steven Spielberg. The fact that its an animation is slightly more surprising. But by far the most surprising thing is you barely notice it is, given the rich canvas on which this Indiana Jones esque tale of the search for sunken treasure is cast and the detail and vibrancy of the characters that populate it. It is astounding just how far the likes of Pixar and Dreamworks have taken us and one only wonders whether all these highly paid holloywood starts will start to look over their collective shoulders when the people that really start to pull the strings are these digital pupateers who can create such auspicious characters without a single shot of a real human being required. Where will this take us I wonder. Has Harrison Ford hit retirement at just the right moment? Should Tinitin grab his hat?

The swashbuckling adventure centres around the purchase by Tintin of a model ship. This model of the “Unicorn” hides a secret message which a number of interested parties are after and will lead him on a voyage to discover the riches that the real ship carried centuries before. On his journey he is supported by the rarely sober Captain Haddock who treats water with disdain and lives solely on a diet of Whisky. Tintin is also helped by the slightly inept interpol detective twins, with their hats and walking canes in tow wherever they might be. The adventure moves from land to sea, from boat to motorbike and from city to desert at break neck speed. Interestingly, the set pieces are little more excessive then the average blockbuster which helps to further the illusion. At the same time, the animation enables Jackson to link these scenes together in a way that is visually warming to the eye.

In terms of downsides, well there aren’t many except perhaps our hero himself. This is not the fault of Jackson or Spielberg as their creation of Tintin within the film is excellent. The issue lies more with the fact that Tintin is a character from the past and even then, his status was far from mainstream having arrived from across the channel. Many will have spent more time with Asterix and Obelix than with Tintin. Tintin was at best a peripheral character in their childhoods making this more of a curiosity than the bringing to life of a childhood friend. And because of that, although this is is undoubtedly a great family film, I suspect for most it will remain just that.

Divided

I lower my paper to just below my nose. She remains head down in that glossy magazine?

I reach across the table and dump my tatty rucksack upon the floor. She lifts her viscous black sparkling bag in a single swoop, and sets it on the vacant chair beside her.

I hide my ammonium fingers beneath the table lip. She draws those perfectly manicured nails together in a bridge before her chin.

I look disgusted at the filthy Barbour slung across the seat beside me. Occasionally she seems to pet the shocking red tailored coat that lounges across her lap.

I consider tying up my laces. She taps her Jimmy Choo in a nervous hilt against the varnished wooden floor.

I try to hide what passes for teeth behind a grimaced smile. She shows no sign of  un-pinching those stunning crimson lips.

I sit up straight, for a change. She does not relax those pointed shoulders.

I brush the white bread crumbs from me green woollen tie. The plastic salad box lies open by her elbow.

I pass a slab of hand through my wavy, unkept curls. Her vital black hair, pulled tight into a tail, is brushed gently by a passing waiter.

I set my mug of tea upon the mat with a small crunch. She raises the fine cup to her lips, and sips silently.

I look again from beneath my brambled speckled brows. She glances from beneath those voluminous lashes and her eyes flicker.

If you could look past me, then I could listen to you and we might find something to discuss, just for a few minutes. And perhaps we would find that we aren’t so far apart after all. 

But I am rooted andwe are divided like continents in my mind and so I will never know.

Dredd 3D (2012)***

There is a comic book subculture of which I know nothing. If you talk to someone who knows a little about comics they will expound the virtues of the likes of Marvel and the fantastic characters that they created over decades of scribbling. What’s more, there is an undercurrent within every story, a representation of diversity, a socioeconomic riff and an observation on human frailty. Apparently not just colourful and vivid stories designed to entertain pubescent teens then?

In fact, despite the mainstream appeal of these comic book adaptations, these same gurus can be decidedly critical of many of these films and to be honest, as an observation, hollywood has become increasingly lazy in this area meaning that we should probably not tut too much when they criticize the failure to follow the source material.

Dredd therefore has a head start as it is I am told very true to the source material. Does that make it a good film though.

Well, it creates a pretty grim world with Peaches Towers, with its 75,000 residents, a backdrop against which the majority of the story plays out,  a far cry from summery fair it might suggest.

Judge Dredd, with his rookie judge Anderson in toe, goes to the towers to investigate a triple murder and finds himself locked in to prevent him leaving with one of the drug lord’s henchmen. A bounty of sorts is placed on his head and the Judges have to do or die until the blast doors are raised. What follows is a considerable amount of blood, gore, careful pacing along some dark corridors and an eventual, slightly under played, showdown.

Of course, even for us comic amateurs, we all knew roughly who Dredd was, we all wanted the helmet (almost as much as a stormtrooper’s helmet) and we all have pointed a gun at the mirror uttering the immortal words “I’am the law”. On those fronts you will not be disappointed (although he only uses the words once). But this has no colourful edges and is not an easy watch. The drug taking scenes are overstylised but otherwise the rest is not. I sense the level of gore is to stay close to the source. The casting of Karl Urban as Dredd is masterful as is his use of his jaw and voice. Everyone else is little more than a satellite to his central mass and the film only works when he is present, which he is for most scenes.

So. Not your average comic book flick but a reasonable addition to the genre that takes a different and more accurate route but one which is both good and bad for the cinematic experience.

Of course, I’m told The Raid is better with a very similar story – I wouldn’t want to comment…

[Note - as the title suggests this is full on use of 3D - it took my eyes at least 10 minutes to deal with the 3D barrage but it does work and you do adapt.]

The Fairground

Note – Exercise in setting the scene

Two cramped seats. In a bright yellow hovercraft with a grimy beaten grey rim and dust covered eyes. Scratched and scuffed from a million impacts. Protruding from behind, a large crooked finger reaching to the spark spat mesh above. The occupants in different states. One boy, expectant and excited by every hit. Couldn’t be more than 9 or 10 with blond hair and wild eyes. Tongue lolling as he hurtled from one car to the next. Next to him, an older girl. Prim, with handbag wedged between her and the entrance rim of the car. Swaying left and right with each impact and yet unmoved. Face strained and set in a mild grimace.

Beyond this melee of hurtling colours, the queues extended on every blur of light. Expectant faces lit up by the glare of a million bulbs. Chatting and laughing. Banging their hands together and stamping their feet. While the operators lurked in the darkness, cigarette butts smouldering as they were hurled from the darkness into the light. Trodden into the wet, muddy turf. Trampled to a bog in parts, where the children charged and skidded and the parents tiptoed through.

The smell of candy drew his eyes from the scene before him as the yellow bug was once again rammed against the wall. Towards the gate, groups of girls were forming as their friends and enemies paid their dues to the gatekeeper. And between them, groups of boys, collars up, full of furtive and defiant glances – these lilypads of confluence, dotted the central square.  Brimming with the pent up desire of youth. Walled within the continuous movement and light. A scuffle . A kiss. A break-up. A union. All this was inevitable and he was jealous of the opportunity that was for him another life. His eyes did not wait.

Instead they shifted beyond this carnival. To the distance rim of trees beyond where peacefulness was hiding away. Silence was impossible to find. Solitude was desire.

An arm slid through his, barely discernible through the thickness of his jacket. A tug to gain his attention just before the steam from a warm drink wafted by his face. Warm and wet is all that’s needed as his mother used to say.

She didn’t say anything – just looked up from her drink with expectant eyes. A slight nod of the head towards the coconut shy was all that was needed. He knew she wanted one of those ridiculous stuffed elephants that surrounded the stall, silently observing every participant as they no doubt had done for many nights before.

She didn’t want it. She just wanted to ensure he could and would still get it. Like many years before, when he’d spent all his money trying and then escaped through the fence with his ill-gotten gains.

He remembered those times and those petty crimes. Those flights of foot. How things had changed.  He pulled his hat lower and hunched his shoulders against the cold. He had time to win the elephant. Not much time but enough for this.