Hello!

Gosh - look, it's the first of a new month and I'm not used to writing  - or saying - 2012 yet. Two thousand and twelve? Not twenty-twelve, surely?

Anyway, it's cold so a nice warm set of tunes for you on NOTP tonight. Unfortunately a computer malfunction meant we weren't streaming on t'web so I postponed the album of the week till next Wednesday. It will be one that seemed to have passed me by - it's Laura Marling's latest album, 'A Creature I Don't Know'. A bit of a departure from the usual but that's no bad thing. Three tracks from that then - something to look forward to.

I've been hitting the charity shops again. Even though I couldn't resist an offer of three LPs for 99p in Ruthin, I'm afraid they were all classical. No problem as I now have The Rite of Spring and Shostokovich's Ninth as well as some Tippett and Vaughan Williams, but they aren't quite what makes NOTP tick. However, a rummage did reveal an old Seventies one-hit-wonder - Spanish Wine by Chris White. Very MOR, I suppose, but I hadn't heard it for a while. 

Three in a Row featured songs with dual time signatures. Glden Brown by the Stranglers, The Beatles' 'We Can Work it Out' and Nancy Sinatra and Lee Hazelwood's 'One Velvet Morning' all vary between 4/4 and 3/4 - odd but they do seem to work.

Long song featured the deeply unfashionable Robbie Williams with a (slightly doctored) version of 'Me and my Monkey'. Great fun. 

Making a welcome re-appearance on Kitsch'n'Sink was Keith West with Mark Wirtz' 'Excerpt From a Teenage Opera'.  Kiddie choruses, bells, full orchestra and the full Abbey Road treatment - what's not to like?Promise I'll play some more of the abandoned opera next week.

Shivering in the corner were Counting Crows, Paulo Nutini, Laura Marling, The Glitch Mob,  Air, OMD, The Orange Seaweed, Polly Scattergood, Crystal Castles, Crystal Castles, Peter Thorogood, The Four Tops, Klaatu, Boris, Alpha Data, Jarvis Cocker, Talk Talk, Keane, Echo and the Bunnymen, Elton John (really!) and Vegas.

Have a good week and hopefully all out internet friends will be back to listen next week. Mind you, I seem to have had more interest since people couldn't hear me!

Glyn 

FILM REVIEW

The Artist

Jean Dujardin, Bérénice Bejo; dir Michael Hazanavicius

Quite often, when watching yet another scripted-by-committee, directed-by-numbers film with phoned-in performances by overpaid actors my mind begins to wonder at what happened to the magic of cinema. Then, as if to order, films like Hugo and now The Artist turn up to restore my faith.

This is a brave film as it is, for the most part, silent with musical accompaniments and dialogue boards, black and white and in a narrow screen format. If this worries you, and well it might, then maybe you’ll have difficulty in adjusting to this film. If you can overcome this and take the film on its own terms then you’re in for a treat.

The story is simple. It’s 1927 and a great star of the silent screen, George Valentin (Dujardin) has a chance meeting with a fan, Peppy (Bejo) outside a premier of his latest silent movie and it’s caught on camera. She then becomes an actress and, in a clever touch, is shown rising by a series of cast lists from the front of fictional films. Then 1929 comes and with it comes sound, a gimmick that Valentin dismisses out of hand. But then talkies become the rage, the Depression looms and he has marital problems, while Peppy becomes the darling of the movies. But things do have a habit of turning out for the best…

This film owes much to all sorts of movies, from the silents of Douglas Fairbanks, Valentino  and Chaplin to Singin’ in the Rain via Citizen Kane and All About Eve and, of course, A Star is Born. There are so many wonderful moments it’s hard to single out just a few – perhaps the double act in front of a curtain like the ending of Singin’ in the Rain, the multiple takes of the dance scene between Peppy and Valentin where they fall for each other, his descent into despair like Charles Foster Kane and the clever use of Bernard Herrmann’s music from Vertigo (though I believe Kim Novak was furious about this) were stand-out moments for me. But even if the references mean nothing this film will still charm and delight you.

The acting is faultless, especially considering much of the dialogue relies on expression and reaction, the story clever and witty and the cinematography has that luminous feel of early celluloid. It is just the right length and the ending is neat, poignant and clever. Period detail is nicely done, especially in the credits for the (fictitious) films. The chemistry beween Valentin and Peppy is utterly believable, and actors such as John Goodman as his grumpy long-suffering producer and James Cromwell as the devoted chauffeur are well-chosen. Cinema has a new star with Uggy, the terrier that follows Valentin everywhere and features in his films who puts me in mind of Asta, William Powell’s canine companion in the Thin Man films of the Thirties.

Early in the film, just as we’ve got used to the orchestra and the silent acting, there is a nightmare sequence where Valentin puts down a glass with a crash; we hear laughter and street noises, though he cannot make himself heard. These sounds are so alien to the film, so brash and raucous, that we at once want to be back in the cosy world of the silent movie, and heave a sigh of relief when ‘normality’ is restored. That’s the magic of cinema; that’s the magic of this film.

Glyn James

FILM REVIEW

Haywire

Gina Carano, Michael Douglas, Ewan McGregor; dir Steven Soderbergh

It’s a while since we’ve had a star-studded action picture, and this one is all the stranger for featuring a martial-arts practitioner as the hero. This is Gina Carano, who reputedly got the part after Soderbergh saw her skills on TV and decided she would be ideal in this film. Luckily she can act too, and holds her own against the likes of Michael Fassbender, Ewan McGregor and Channing Tatum.

The plot is virtually impenetrable as these things have a tendency to be. Briefly Carano plays Mallory, a special operations operative who has been double crossed and set up by her bosses (nice to see Michael Douglas), so she escapes and “goes rogue”. All this top-secret espionage is told to a stranger whose car she has just hijacked to escape – rather a ludicrous plot device.

During the car journey we are taken in flashback to Barcelona, Dublin (the Irish Film Board are co-funders), New Mexico and other exotic locations as is the norm with films like this. Everywhere she goes mayhem ensues and she is given the chance to attack some hapless males. This is of course where she shines, and I’d be surprised if some A-list actors haven’t got some bruises from the frighteningly realistic fight scenes. This film scores too in having little in the way of stunt doubles and CGI is kept to a minimum, just as it would have been in the action flicks of the seventies and eighties that Soderbergh is clearly so fond of, allowing Carano full use of her acrobatic and martial arts skills.

After a fairly dull opening twenty minutes, the action ramps up with an exciting chase sequence through Barcelona, followed by a rendezvous in Dublin with an unknown agent (Fassbender) who is to act as her husband. This is a nice part of the film – two people acting as a married couple, both working together yet distrusting each other completely, not unlike Turner and Nicholson in Prizzi’s Honor. Of course her suspicions are well-founded so it’s off to another city to wreak more havoc.

For once it’s nice to see the cities labelled as simply ‘Barcelona’ and ‘Dublin’ – none of the silly ‘London, England’ that usually graces these films. The direction is assured as you would expect, the film is not overlong, and for once the ending is smart and crisp.

Just don’t ask me to explain the plot.

Glyn James

Hi there

Not much happening music-wise this week, so it's back to the Live Lounge CD for my Album of the Week - this time Vol 6, disc 2. From that we had 'Hold it Aginst Me' by Taio Cruz (origianlly by Britney Spears), 'Becoming a Jackal' by Villagers and Arcade Fire's 'We Used to Wait', this time by Mark Ronson. 

Well, for all those Scots out there it can't have escaped your notice that it's Burns Night! So Three in a Row relating to that event - three slightly less known Scottish artists - Mull Historical Society, King Creosote and Amy McDonald.

Kitsch'n'Sink featured Robert Plant on vocals and Alison Krauss on fiddle with Mr T Bone Burnett on production - from the album 'Raising Sand' we had their definitive version of Townes van Zandt's 'Nothin''. Superb stuff.

The Long Song again nodded to Scotland and Glasvegas - the full version of Flowers and Football Tops. 

 Charity Shop Corner gave us The Tarantino Collection and Dick Dale from Pulp Fiction.

Also queuing up for their neeps and tatties were Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, Joy Division, Mink deVille, Kaiser Chiefs, Florence and the Machine, Burns Unit, China Crisis, Bronski Beat, Lana Del Rey, Pulp, John Lennon, Etta James, Bryan Ferry, Procul Harum, Barclay James Harvest and The Proclaimers.

See you next week!

Glyn

FILM REVIEW

J Edgar

Leonardo DiCaprio, Judi Dench; dir Clint Eastwood

In case of any doubt, the title refers to J Edgar Hoover, the instigator and head of the FBI in America for almost half a century.

This film, not unlike The Iron Lady, employs the technique of an old man dictating his memoirs to a succession of FBI typists – interestingly all male. We are then taken on a journey back through his life. The stories are not chronological but the narrative works well in this form.

Obviously Americans will be more familiar with Mr Hoover’s story, but from this side of the pond Eastwood creates a fascinating picture of a man devoted to his dominant mother, with a fixation on order, method (his idea of a first date is go to the Library of Congress and show off his cataloguing system) and an almost pathological hatred of Communism. To this end almost any wrongdoing in America is blamed on the Bolsheviks, from the Depression and the gangs of Capone to the assassination of Kennedy. He has a fanatical approach to what he sees as right, and to that end organises a central library of fingerprints, encurages the science of forensics and introduces a police force with federal powers. All quite laudable, but the way in which he does this is the subject of the film. He will not tolerate intoxication on duty, facial hair, poor dressing or any disloyalty among his agents. The girl he took out (Naomi Watts) becomes his personal secretary and remains with him till the end, being privy to much information and files that Hoover has taken on himself to copy in case he needs them. Presidents come and go, each having an interview with Hoover in which, we are led to believe, he makes them aware of any secret information he holds about them or their family, the inference being that as long as J Edgar is in charge of the FBI, they can sleep easy in the knowledge that their secrets will never see the light of day.

Hoover never married and Eastwood leaves us in no doubt as to the reason – enter the implausibly handsome Clyde Tolson (Arnie Hammer) whom Hoover soon promotes to his deputy, provided – as Tolson stipulates – they will always have lunch and dinner together. They prove almost inseparable throughout their lives, though their relationship is never commented on. The only time they quarrel is when Hoover suggests he might take a wife whereupon Tolson explodes with rage and suppressed love. Hoover may have had affairs with Dorothy Lamour and Lela Rogers (Ginger’s mother) but his one enduring relationship was with Tolson.

The problem with a film like this is the casting, whether to cast two or more actors in the main role, as was done in Atonement to great effect, or else to use one younger actor and make-up. Eastwood has chosen the latter approach. DiCaprio suits this approach, assuming the mantle of the old man well, but I missed the commanding authority that, say, Frank Langella or Anthony Hopkins would have had. In fact the ‘old’ DiCaprio bears a strong resemblance to Jack Nicholson or perhaps Orson Welles as Charles Foster Kane. The others don't fare so well – Judi Dench can easily manage to become an old woman by simply acting and the depiction of Tolson as an old man put me in mind of Freddie Krueger. If there was more confidence in the ability of actors to act and less in the ingenuity of the make-up artists then films such as this would be more engaging and less distracting.

The period detail is excellent and Eastwood, though not the most subtle of directors, knows how to pace a film and it is not overlong, even at almost two-and-a-half hours. The music, by Eastwood himself, is not intrusive, and it’s a strange co-incidence that this film and The Iron Lady, about domineering, controlling characters, both end with a piece of Bach.

Glyn James

Hi there

Well, post-Christmas blues are here to stay, and we had our first taste of the cold weather to come. With this in mind I chose ice as the theme for Three in a Row - Ice Ice Baby by Vanilla Ice, the Lightning Seeds'  Sugar Coated Iceberg and Kate Bush's chilling Under Ice. Unfortunately I couldn't find Jonathan Richman's seminal 'Ice Crem Man' - though I believe he's coming to do a gig at Hendre Hall next month which it would only be polite to attend. Of course today it's warmed up and is raining, but I couldn't bring three songs to mind about drizzle. Luckily.

Having said I didn't think I could find an album of the week so soon after Christmas one turns up - Tribes and their debut album 'Baby'. Yes, it's all been done before, but it's nicely enthusiastic and just the thing to perk you up on a cold January evening.

The good old charity shop had a sale, so I've got a few CDs for the Corner. Today I chose one from one of those Now compilations - mostly dire but among them was Daft Punk's 'Digital Love'. Glad I only had to choose one.

Kitsch'n'Sink featured Mr Nice himself - Steve Harley and the huge production afforded to Sebastian by Alan Parsons.

The Long Song was probably the longest song Dylan ever did and is either great or tedious depending on your point of view. From Blonde on Blonde it was 'Stuck Inside of Mobile with the Memphis Blues Again'.

Also out in the cold putting newspapers of fate ready to be blown off the windscreens of destiny were Boo Radleys, Franz Ferdinand, Lloyd Price, Grinderman, Finley Quaye, Toots and the Maytals, I am Kloot, Pulp, Blur, Bowie, Underworld, Buggles, Beth Jeans Houghton and the Hooves of Destiny, Mercury Rev, Yann Tiersen, Juliet Turner, Ane Brun and Mr Tom Waits.

 Have a good week - see you next week!

Glyn

FILM REVIEW

 War Horse

Jeremy Irvine, Emily Watson, Peter Mullen; dir Steven Spielberg

 Spielberg seems to have made a career out of ignoring the advice to never work with children or animals. This time it’s the turn of the horse. The film is an adaptation by Richard Curtis and Lee Hall of the stage play based on Michael Morpurgo’s book which deals with the First World War as seen through the eyes of a horse.

In the book the horse, Joey, is the narrator and in the stage production the horses are portrayed by life-sized puppets. No such imagery is possible here – luckily a Mr Ed-style speaking horse wasn’t considered – so we have a realistic setting with real horses. The story concerns the 15-year old Albert Narracott ,who lives on a Devon farm with his poor parents (Mullen and Watson giving typically fine performances). His father is often drunk and they are in debt to their landlord, a nicely evil David Thewlis. To outsmart him, the father pays over the odds for a horse, which Albert vows to break in and train. War is then declared, and the horse is sold to the army for use in battle. The story then is led by Joey the horse as he changes hands and even sides in the war.

Many reviews I have read concern the implausibility of the film and the almost unreal glow of nostalgia that pervades it. I think this misses the point. The book is intended for children, and could almost be called a fairy story, albeit one with a very poignant message. For this reason it is entirely correct that Spielberg has made the Devon landscape idyllic and shown a fondly-remembered time that in all probability didn’t exist. As for the improbable storyline, we need to remember that the book is related by a talking horse, so realism is not paramount. The horse is a symbol – of wisdom, innocence, spirit – a mute narrator on the futility of war.

There are few directors as skilled as Spielberg in the recreation of war, and the horrors of the trenches are well realised here. Without resort to bloodied corpses and graphic violence we still see the horrific brutality of this war. The charge against an unprepared German camp is both thrilling and devastating, and the final shot of this scene when the camera pulls away to reveal the carnage is reminiscent of a Breughel painting,  more shocking than any close-up of mutilated bodies.

The acting is consistently excellent and the animal trainers deserve special mention. A scene towards the end of Joey running through the trenches, crashing through barbed wire fences is brilliantly executed and leads to one of the more moving moments of the film.

The music is by long-time Spielberg collaborator, John Williams who has clearly been doing his homework – the score is a pastiche of Elgar, Delius and Vaughan Williams. For me, this is where the film falls down slightly – the score is too uplifting and underlines much of the action unnecessarily. Gone is the slightly sombre, lyrical Englishness of the British composers to be replaced by grandiose Hollywood epic music. This may seem a small point, but I feel silence could have been a far more fitting accompaniment to much of the film.

Although I saw a digital presentation with all its attendant judder, ridiculous contrast and colour mis-registration, the cinematography still looked superb, and I have to believe Spielberg when he says there were no clever CGI tricks used in the final sequence, just good old-fashioned camerawork.

This isn’t a war film and is not meant to be taken realistically. It is a parable and an essay on the futility of war. Richard Curtis was responsible for one of the most unexpectedly moving pieces on the First World War in the final Blackadder episode, and here he has contributed to a moving adaptation of a children’s book. It’s a long film, but as we have come to expect from this director the pace is well-judged. He has said that this is his first truly British film, and with his use of locations and British acting talent we can certainly hope it will be the first of many.

Glyn James

Hi there

Well, now we're into the swing of 2012 it's back to business as usual for Not On The Playlist. That means the old favourites (!) together with albums of the week. They're a bit thin on the ground at the moment, but luckily Radio One's Live Lounge has come to the rescue with its double album compilation of live performances recorded throughout the year. I chose three tracks from the first disc - The Vaccines' version of Katy Perry's 'Last Friday Night', David Guetta's 'Sweat' by Hard-Fi and Ellie Goulding's version of Rihanna's 'Only Girl'. I carefully avoided Jessie J's awful 'Price Tag'...Next week I'll investigate the second disc. 

Out for a walk this afternoon I noticed a milk bottle which inspired Three in a Row. I lead an exciting life - all right? So three milky tunes - Milk by Garbage, mixed with alcohol by Dr Feelgood and The Milkman of Human Kindness by Billy Bragg. More barrel-scraping next week.

OTT production, otherwise known as Kitsch'n'Sink gave us 'Yes' - from the short-lived collaboration between David McAlmont and Bernard Butler. Butler is very fond of Spectorian productions and it shows.

A sale at my local charity shop means I came staggering home with five albums - two of them doubles! A bit of a case of 'never mind the quality, feel the width', but even so there were a few good songs there. Tonight I played - spot tonight's theme - 'No Milk Today' by Herman's Hermits. And I don't even drink milk!

The Long Song found Phil Collins on his own fronting a diminished Genesis and doing a very good job, it has to be said. From Trick of the Tail I chose 'Ripples'. 

Also trying to get their Christmas trees of fate into the rubbish bin of eternity were Depeche Mode, KT Tunstall, Dave and Ansel Collins, Fleet Foxes, Crosby Stills and Nash, OMD, Lana Del Rey, The Glitch Mob, S.C.U.M., Lou Reed, Radiohead and David Bowie.

See you next week!

Glyn

Running down the fifty-odd films I reviewed in 2011 (and I saw many more that didn't merit a review) there were some surprises among the inevitable sequels and cheap TV tie-ins.

The high-concept film was much to the fore this year, and of them I particularly enjoyed Duncan Jones' Source Code - clever and just about fathomable. Equally good was The Adjustment Bureau with Matt Damon and Emily Blunt as the lovers who are prevented from being together by sinister men in hats. Also worthy of mention is Limitless - one of those ‘what if' films, in this case a drug that would give you access to your mind's full potential. For one the ending was sharp and clever and not the seemingly inevitable cop-out and the opening sequence is stunning.

The drama front was well represented with Drive being the film of choice for many. It's certainly been Ryan Gosling's year, progressing from lightweight comedy to something as brutal and atmospheric as this. It's basically a Forties film noir, brought up to date only to find little has changed. Enigmatic performances, rainy mean streets and shocking violence all feature, although driving is not high on the agenda. Also worthy of mention were The Help, based on the novel about race in the Deep South,  Hanna, Black Swan and Unknown, and mention must go to Scorsese's amazing homage to early cinema ‘Hugo' with its stunning opening sequence and amazing 3-D effects.

Historical films usually mean classic novels brought to the screen such as the slightly dull Jane Eyre or the more controversial foul-mouthed Wuthering Heights. However this year we were treated to more recent history, the most notable being the Oscar-laden The King's Speech. Fully deserving of its accolades, this was one film that scarcely put a foot wrong. Firth again featured in the masterly adaptation of Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, set in the Sixties but looking like another world. This was an object lesson in acting and direction and another film where the journey is almost more important than the destination. On a lighter note My Year With Marilyn didn't try to be more important than it was and turned out to be a charming film with two stunning central performances.

There were a few blockbusters - the eagerly awaited Harry Potter conclusion didn't disappoint, and JJ Abrams came up with the hugely enjoyable Super 8 which for once gave the young cast room to breathe among the special effects. Pirates of the Caribbean - On Strange Tides was more of the same - good swashbuckling fun, and Sherlock Holmes gave us an exciting second instalment of  Lock, Stock and two Smoking Muskets.

Comedies were a little thin on the ground - or at least good ones were. Comedy-dramas such as Tower Heist and Bad Teacher missed the mark and promising rom-coms like Crazy Stupid Love, One Day and What's My Number were all flawed, usually by excessive interference by the studio or the dreaded ‘script by committee'. However, the Swansea-set low-budget ‘Submarine' was a delightful coming of age comedy, Johnny English Reborn was far more entertaining than I'd expected, and Chalet Girl was good undemanding fun.

Science fiction was there too. Pegg and Frost's disappointing ‘Paul' seemed to rely too much on inoffensive jokes and stock situations, and ‘Battle: Los Angeles' with its big explosions and cardboard characters suggested we haven't come as far as we thought we had, though ‘Contagion' was a good old disaster movie that had a welcome downbeat ending. My favourite sci-fi of the year, however, was the low-budget ‘Attack The Block', about aliens targeting a London tower block. Full of young street-speaking actors and sharp dialogue, plus a comic turn from Nick Frost, this managed to eclipse many of the more  expensive films of this genre.

Animations included the entertaining ‘Despicable Me', the charming ‘Gnomeo and Juliet' and ‘Happy Feet 2' and, my favourite, the Aardman-based ‘Arthur Christmas'.

Veteran directors were well represented - Clint Eastwood's poorly received ‘Hereafter' was in face a clever and though-provoking film, the Coen's reworking of True Grit looked gorgeous even if it offered nothing new, Woody Allen's ‘Midnight in Paris' was a triumphant return to form, and Danny Boyle's ‘127 Hours' was a stomach-churning interpretation of a true story.

Of course there were some that were not exactly classics - Tom Hanks and Julia Roberts in the chemistry-free ‘Larry Crowne', a remake too far in ‘Hangover 2', ditto Sex and the City 2, chauvinists aplenty in Hall Pass, the tedious ‘I Don't Know How She Does It' and a baffled miscast Harrison Ford in Cowboys and Aliens.

Awards for munching the scenery must go to Anthony Hopkins in The Rite and Jack Nicholson in the otherwise unremarkable ‘How Do You Know'.

Films that just missed the mark though were quite entertaining included ‘In Time', ‘The Way Back', ‘Burke and Hare' and ‘Fair Game'.

So a good year for British cinema, though a year in which we lost such great talent as Ken Russell, Pete Postlethwaite, Anna Massey, John Barry, Michael Gough, Peter Yates, Edward Hardwicke George Baker and Elizabeth Taylor.

3-D reared its ugly head agiain to variable effect - a survey showed that most cinemagoers didn't think it was worth the extra money and others (myself included) didn't like the poorer definition and darker blurred images. Still, everyone now wants a 3-D television so maybe we enjoy wearing silly glasses after all.

Another annoying  trend is the introduction of the coda - a short ‘winding down' piece that adds nothing to the film but gets you adjusted to the real world you're about to re-enter. Films such as Harry Potter and the new Mission Impossible are good examples of this trend, as are virtually all rom-coms. Hopefully it will soon be overtaken by films that end when they end.

So now it's off to the cinema for 2012!

Glyn James

Sherlock Holmes - A Game of Shadows

Robert Downey Jr, Jude Law; dir Guy Richie

A year after the first of Richie's Holmes films comes the nest instalment - bigger and darker but maintaining the inspired pairing of Downey anal Law. Not for purists, perhaps, but in some ways I feel that the chemistry between the two leads is more what Doyle had in mind and hopefully, along with the recent television adaptations, puts finally to rest the popular depiction of Watson as a buffoon.

The plot is pure Victorian Bond - a megalomaniac has to be stopped and Holmes and Watson must use their collective wits to stop him. Holmes' brother Mycroft makes an appearance  - a droll performance by Stephen Fry - and their verbal battling is great fun.

There are ladies present too: in fact Watson is getting married, though predictably Holmes joyfully throws a large spanner into the works and soon the real happy couple are off on their adventures.

As in the previous outing, Guy Richie gives us a fascinating vision of Victorian London - the dingy, foggy streets with low-life at every turn contrasting with the opulence of wealth. Less welcome is his infatuation with slow-mo fights - so Nineties - but his analysis of the workings of Holmes' brain are clever and innovative.

Professor Moriarty, played by Jared Harris, is of course Holmes' nemesis, and their scenes together are nicely played. The scene where the two of them quietly play a game of chess while Watson is left to fight the battle almost single-handedly would, I feel, have won Conan Doyle's approval.

As before, Downey and Law have made the parts their own and although this film might offend purists, Richie has succeeded in putting fun back into the franchise.

Glyn James