Seize The Day (Tomorrow)

There'll be a subheader here in a bit but I'm going to watch TV first. That show that I like is on.

This weekend's 'suggestion' from Marina Hyde: ban all meetings. Number Ten have apparently resized their negotiating table so even more spads (abb: special advisers) can chivvy around it. Living standards and therefore people's general happiness will not improve with more people having their tuppence, suggests Hyde, as it's a clear example of professional procrastination/ urinating contest. Plus a reason for the UKIPs of the world to weedle out of the woodwork. You've got my vote Marina.

The other thing that caught my eye from that paper was Will.I.Am, a man who to my mind should be a giant, benevolent god of partying; a 21st century Dionysus if you like. His Q&A consisted of questions so generic no wonder the responses are near-monosyllabic and sound catatonic to your ear.

Example 1: What did he "deplore" about himself? 'I can procrastinate a little bit', he drawled (my adverb). I admit the response shocked me a bit. 'When does he do that?!', I thought as I waited for YouTube videos to load.

Procrastination comes in many forms. Multimillionaires do it apparently. Ironically, sometimes it comes in blog form (but the author might not know it so best keep it to yourself eh dear reader?) but often it'll appear in tasks so middling, chores so yawnsome, it's apparent what's going on well before the pencils are all sharp, let alone the same size.

Monk, my go-to TV show of
choice when procrastinating.

The rules aren't hard and fast when considering who'll miss a deadline. How much a person drinks for example, or whether their formative environment was a relaxed or disciplined one. The answers feel off-kilter - procrastinators statistically drink more but also come from more controlling parents. They are honest but tend to self-deceive whilst also being an extremely optimistic group. You'd have to be when leaving that essay until the night before.

Surely the most fascinating part is why people procrastinate. There are the indecisive (no brainer there), the avoiders (yup) but interestingly, some people actually get a rush from pressure. The downside to all that down time? Your health suffers. One college found that students who procrastinated the most got more cold and flu viruses and suffered from insomnia more than other groups (no prizes for guessing why).

So procrastination looks like a term describing a set of behaviours basically not conducive to what's unconsciously agreed upon as successful living. But did it exist a century ago? To me it feels contemporary, a symptom of something else much bigger. A phenomenon that's metastasized in a body of culture many now want out of.

I don't think this is about cash or a lack of it; that's another branch of the same tree. It's a natural side effect of choices we made six decades ago in a near-bankrupt nation exhausted from conflict. That people could twiddle their thumbs in the face of unprecedented ruin is unthinkable, but maybe the very industry that brought about a country we know today equally provided seedling of a different type.

The tyranny of choice.

Basically it's hard to continuously create without people falling into other modes of thinking. Creating is hard core stuff. I mean the act, not the end product. And yet I think that comment earlier nicely represents a terrible, painful paradox; we can continue trying to inspire ourselves and inspire others because the alternative has physical and emotionally unpleasant symptoms of decay, stasis.

Whilst stretching the argument rather thin, the fear of standing still - of doing nothing- could actually promote less healthy behaviour. Businesses, democracies have diagnosed a lack of choice as the heart of the matter. But giving people more choices does not necessarily empower them, and plenty of smarter people than I can elucidate on why that is. Check out Barry Schwartz's brilliantly straightforward take on a profoundly complex problem. His TED talk's here.

Here's my possibly controversial conclusion: creation is harder than ever to stimulate and not because of the usual excuses like time constraints (last fascinating fact: procrastinators can also be excellent at managing their time. Weird right?). Creation is hard because everyone is trying harder than ever to be good at it, and as more people are sucked into a semi-professional state at all stages of existence, creation no longer represents what we want most: happiness.

Photos from MonkMania and guardian.co.uk

Picture Perfect

The success of Rear Window hinges on the everyman qualities of Jimmy Stewart

When questioned once about his approach to acting, Jimmy Stewart suggested one of the most important things was 'to try not to make the acting show.' At first glance the prosaic nature of the remark's only unusual when considering the undoubted depth of the man who said it.

But it's misleading to take at face value. A man who nearly avoided movies altogether to complete a masters in architecture at Princeton would have understood the importance of form and structure, and why an edifice owes as much to the ground it was founded upon as the more subtler aspects.

For a long time I thought this guy represented the quintessential icon of American popular culture; a post war icon, encapsulating family, small town patriotism and conservatism with a small c that was conscientious enough to listen to the liberal voice in its ear. I've been pleasantly surprised to find the evidence to this superficial perspective has sat on my rapidly crumbling shelf (never buy MDF folks. Life lesson right there).

Stewart, kind of appalled, kind of fascinated at once

Although I've owned his films for over a decade, it's fair to say I've only recently become a Jimmy Stewart fan. When I say recently, I really mean in the last week. The film that did the trick was Hitchcock's Rear Window, one of numerous films I own by the rotund Essex gentleman who by everyone's estimate was decades ahead of his contemporaries in understanding the psychology of film (more there shortly). I'm not the first nor best qualified to claim it as a masterpiece, but there you go - there's no sense in disputing it, certainly from these quarters.

Stewart seems an interesting guy full stop. He did Frank Capra's films - many of which I also own (including that one) but before dismissing his work as dreamy sentimentalism, watch them again. Anyone who's a bit of a Capra enthusiast understands the inferences - he knows, as well as his audience, that something fundamental is being lost as the film is being watched; that it's impossible to exist in the nigh-blissful scenes that his characters do and consequently that these films will remain films forever more. I don't believe Frank Capra wasn't really interested in capturing reality - his sniffier supporters might suggest he was better than that. I prefer to think he saw enough reality in real life.

Back to the subject. Stewart is the archetypal Capra protagonist - not naïve but big-hearted, straightforward yet not cruel towards men, and seeming to exist within a moral code miraculously unspoken throughout. These elements are almost believable in his acting, amongst the best I've seen. But Hitchcock made him into something a little different.

Rear Window's a clever piece of work and a more cynical perspective of community life within a major city - witness the emotional outpouring in the dead dog scene for confirmation of Hitchcock's rejection of the Capra code. But Stewart really nails the picture as an everyman with an eye for the narrative thanks to a time and life-consuming job as a magazine photographer. Slowly Stewart sloughs off the shell of disinterested citizen, becoming the recorder and narrator of blithe and unassuming community existing together in a steamy apartment block. Fascination's the seed of the carapace that grows apparently organically over the mundaneness of his lonely wheelchair-bound existence.

Between takes in Stewart's Greenwich apartment

But what prompted the fascination to grow? David Thomson writes really engagingly about a subconscious awakening in American pop culture upon the release of Psycho, the undertones of sexuality, gender and violence providing nourishment to a blooming voyeurism planted by an increasingly pervasive media, mainly thanks to TV. That film was released six years after Rear Window, but you can see the tendrils slowly yet inexorably enfeebling Stewart's perspective to be replaced by one which is created, prescribed and received as gospel.

In spite of that I guess what I most enjoy about this is the general vibe of relentlessness with which Stewart sets Jefferies up in every aspect of his confined life. There's a real element of self-preservation inherent in Stewart which naturally comes from his day job (nb as you'd expect the attention to detail in every aspect of Vertigo is fantastic) but he too is a product of his environment; his class-dominated perspective is a metaphorical straitjacket for him to both defend himself with and attack from. That broken leg is more than broken bones - a literal symbol of L.B's postwar attitude to life, both comfortable with and railing against a society fracturing with every passing world event (detail!)

Grace Kelly, the syrupy-voiced faux-celebrity girlfriend is absolutely brilliant at adapting to his stoic attitude and puncturing holes in his bullish demeanour - more than once it seems there's a boxing match going on between a heavyweight fighter and a quicker, nimbler counterpart who weaves in between the crushing blows. Her opening scene recounting her 'working day' - and Stewart's bored reaction - is hilarious. Both parties seek to concoct stories for L.B's neighbours, L.B in particular appearing almost pathologically addicted to narrative and coherence.

Of course the interest lies in whether his stories bear out the truth or crumble, and it's interesting to observe the camera watch its protagonists. And therein lies the second point, neatly wrapped up by Kelly just when it appears (spoiler!) the villain of the piece will escape unpunished. "Whatever happened to that old saying, 'Love thy neighbour'?" she quips as the corpse of L.B's neighbour's dog is ceremoniously withdrawn into the apartment amid wailing and recriminations. Hitchcock couldn't have guessed how television would make fleeting stars out of the everyday people in his flats and apartments but the draping of fictitious narrative over a real life is amazing to watch - this film is nearly 60 years old but feels as contemporary as ever.

A brief word on the camerawork- it's been covered in more expansive and frankly better detail elsewhere but this is one of the only films I've ever seen that makes it explicitly clear that everything you are watching is being manipulated. The protagonist is a photographer. Many of the film's scenes include views from his binoculars/ camera lens.

But even outside that, Hitchcock achieves a sort of free indirect style with his camerawork, strongly inferring that the visuals reflect Stewart's own interests rather than his. For me that's the distinguishing mark of a masterpiece over merely very good. But even more, it's a demonstration of the talents of a man who understood - whether it was in film or architecture - never let the joins show. Maybe I'll take that on board when I buy my next shelving unit.

Pictures courtesy of The Lightning Bug's Lair and HHHHound.com

The Rise and Rise of the Living Dead

Why an empty vessel makes a brilliant metaphor. Too blasé?

Hordes of people are mindlessly grazing all over the planet. In New York, in the Midwest, in fictional towns in the north of England. And those hordes of people are being watched by other hordes of people, mindlessly grazing, all over the planet.

Zombies (of course!) have always had a particularly strong bond with their human brethren. In the age of phablets, multi-purpose televisions and '3D' films (now you don't have to use your eyes' ability to perceive depth!) we're arguably closer than ever to becoming the walking dead.

But that's enough Romero chat. Why the popularity? The Walking Dead, one of the most successful non-cable shows ever in the US, attracts so many viewers Barack Obama's electoral boffs placed ads before, during and after it (could be a very tongue-in-cheek statement by Democrats but I doubt that). World War Z, Hollywood's filming of the exceptionally popular Max Brooks novel has almost twenty million views on YouTube. And in the space recently vacated by Being Human BBC3 recently aired In The Flesh, a rather creepy bit of work examining a small northern town's reaction to the homecoming of a 'cured' zombie teenager to his doting parents and sort-of militant, mostly confused sister.

Steve Ovett: great in everything. Watch him everyone!

The last of these shows presented an interesting picture of a town suffering under the indifference of a London government predominantly concerned with the nation's towns and cities, with its citizens clubbing together to form poorly-armed bands of guerrilla fighters in an effort to protect them from the undead.

For anybody that saw it, there was plenty of interesting 'metaphorical action' here but my favourite part was the more social element. Roarton was obviously based on towns in the north of Britain and readers of the likes of John Harris will be particularly interested in the clear allusion to towns and cities like Bradford, Burnley and Sunderland, who have been on the receiving end of, essentially, experiments in cuts in public sector employment alongside private regeneration, as well as new migrants coming to work (or occasionally not) from mainland Europe in recent years.
But the bigger efforts gnawed a different nerve - fears that many are understandably afraid to confront. Romero's Living Dead series was mainly concerned with (hold your breath, long archaic terms ahead) globalised capitalist society, able to get whatever it wanted whenever and subsequently falling into a dazed stupor (breathe).
World War Z is much more interested in more everyday concerns that tap into deep, unrealised fears about government complacency and general competency to do the right things well for their populations. Relationships between nations on lots of levels - diplomatic, economic and military are examples of things that author Max Brooks chews over. It feels contemporary and the zombie saturation provides a great conduit for terrible dangers through relentless demonstrations of mindless and chaotic behaviour.

It's obvious why World War Z is attracting so much interest when you look at the underlying themes and compare to real life. Looking at political engagement for example tells a story. In the UK voting habits have changed dramatically as many voters from all walks of life become disengaged from a crust of society that is perceived as both self-interested and satisfied. There's also less votes recorded year on year relative to population growth. That's the sort of comment Brooks etched deeply into Z.



One of the scariest endings you'll ever see on film.

But that's enough of the boring stuff. It's unsurprising that it's sold almost a million copies but the satisfaction's derived from an inquisitive tone that's dare I say... sensible. Which is weird really, when every other zombie effort falls into straight horror/gore or non-too-subtle grabs for an intellectualism for saps. Sadly, the film looks like being a Brad Pitt disaster movie. Take some sunglasses - messages concerning themes of the above are likely to be delivered 'with bombast'. 

I'm sure many other genre buffs lament over similar points, but the sheer puerility of much of what's delivered in contemporary horror is dispiriting. Which is why I'm (tentatively) excited about the recent streak of entertainment based around zombies. OK so prosthetics have got better, but that's not really why it's so exciting. The original Rec (above right), although now nearly five years old, presents a brilliant dissection of a bitter, isolated group of people in contemporary Spanish society who rely on hearsay and gossip all delivered through the medium of reality TV. A lovely piece of work and subtly smart.
Of course there's a great chance I'll be making the same point in another five years, except this time with... what? Meyer has successfully eviscerated vampirism, presenting their fractured selves in public as ancient versions of contemporary society. And we had ghosts for a bit (oh hi Takashi Shimizu, got any re-remakes coming up?) which were very scary when done in a particular way (Japanese, poorly conditioned hair, female) Forget their tiresome supernatural forebears - I want zombies to take over the world. You might enjoy it.

 

McCONAUGHEY?

How Dazed and Confused taught me to appreciate the talents of Matthew McConaughey, actor and bongo extraordinaire

To think it started with a house arrest, bongo drums and nudity. And, inevitably, Wikipedia. My gradual reappraisal of Matthew McConaughey finally completed a full 180 last night upon witnessing his glorious turn in Richard Linklater's Dazed and Confused, but I remember a more cynical time.

A time, admittedly, when I wore gym vests beneath polo shirts because I saw a guy do it in a hip-hop video and a time when I spent 45 minutes in video shops looking at their new releases and smirking knowingly at the film playing (Blockbuster Sidcup I mourn your passing. If I'd had money I'd have helped you out).

The film was the sports-betting sort-of-thriller Two For The Money, involving a very buff McConaughey outgruffing ultimate gruff-voiced shouty guy Al Pacino over American football stats. This was following on from SJP fronted rom-com Failure To Launch (which exec took a punt on that title, I hear you ask). The year was 2007, I was a peaky graduate and owned an armchair, a bed, a laptop, a cardboard box of homeware and a carload of books and music. Life was terrible.

McConaughey staring down Weird Al in less cool times

Naturally McConaughey was gonna get it. Classic Southern gentleman I thought - smouldering looks, a linebacker's physique and hair from a Vidal Sassoon ad. And that voice. Was he weaned on Bullett Bourbon? And just look at those films he was in. The two above were enough for me to convict in the court of cool. I was judge, jury and executioner. Young men are terrible people. But was McConaughey actually a douche? In 2007, in my Bench track jacket, gym vest and polo shirt combo (you could see the gym vest underneath hanging over my jeans - I was that bad) my unwavering response would be a smirking 'Are you serious?'

As you might have noticed I have a thing for re-evaluating my preconceptions. It's the price you pay for what I  like to think of as compassion and what my friends, family and workmates appreciate as an almost childlike naivety about life. There's a famous quote about adults preferring themselves as children that I can't be bothered Googling, but it's there and it's no doubt true.

Case in point: I recently saw Ben Affleck win a Best Picture for his 1970s set hostage art/reality thriller Argo (and suggested he was a shoo-in 24 hours earlier here) which capped my reappraisal of a guy I used to assume was also classic Hollywood douche, whatever that is. A lot of my preconceptions are based on what I read on blogs and in magazines. Do you get that?

Anyway, that opening line. Good isn't it? And it's true - my preconceptions did change once I read of McConaughey getting busted for being blazed to his eyeballs on pot hammering the hell out of bongos in the middle of the night. In the buff. I loved every aspect of his story, and what had led me to reconsider his talents? The trailer for Killer Joe of course.

I never saw Friedkin's deep-fried slice of queasy Americana, starring a distinctly creepy-eyed M.M as a hitman with unholy desires for his client's sister, but it interested me. What was a guy like this doing in a film like that?

So watching Dazed and Confused last night was akin to discovering a priest's hole in a stately home that led back to a chapel in the middle of nowhere. I suddenly understood how the man responsible for toecurlers like Ghost of Girlfriends Past and We Are Marshall had got to Killer Joe - a connection not immediately visible but definitely a permanent part of the architecture.

Beat that bowl cut/ moustache combo. Fact: you can't.

Of course there's a broader point here of recognising change in yourself and a natural broadening of perspective as you're exposed to more of the world blah blah etc etc but you all knew that anyway. The important element is the blonde mop the man sports (right) whilst wearing rolled up t-shirt, red trousers and a frankly excellent pair of boots that need to make a comeback in 2013, never mind 1976.

This guy's a revelation. I've no idea who Marjorie Baumgarten is but her take on his performance is spot on: "He is a character we're all too familiar with in the movies but McConaughey nails this guy without a hint of condescension or whimsy, claiming this character for all time as his own." As succinct an appraisal as you'll find, but a perfect description of the sincerity of his performance.

Condescension, I guess, is an emotion an actor can't feel if they want to know success (there's a clear parallel with the intro I constructed up there if you're interested) and his portrait of a jock delighted with his lot and a tangible sense of hedonism is brilliant. Incidentally Affleck also shows up, but as the bullying senior who flunked, he's still a bit of a loser at that stage. Different career arc for him, clearly.

Pictures courtesy of www.scoutlondon.com and screenrush.co.uk