Pete's Pad: July

Fail we may, sail we must, as a wise man once said.

Earlier this week I treated myself to a solo cinema trip to see The Odyssey, heeding the blockbuster auteur’s wishes and opting for Edinburgh’s only 70mm reel projection, at The Filmhouse. Embarrassingly it’s the first time I’ve been back in to see something since its resurrection/revamp, but I’m pleased to say the £20 I chucked the campaign has been well spent on a lick of paint and some comfier seats in screen one. Even in the middle of a weekday though, it was busy - such is Chrissy Nolan’s pull these days - so I had people on either side of me for the first time in a long time. I suppose most of my cinema trips have been to sparsely-populated multiplexes for kids films in the last few years, so I’d forgotten how annoying other people can be. To my left was a young man and his date, both of whom compulsively checked their phones every 20 minutes. To my right was an old lady with a hacking cough and some very crinkly boiled sweets. To her credit though, after a particularly long and bright stint on his mobile, she went above and beyond my ineffectual tutting and actually told him to turn it off.

As for the film, it’s long but it doesn’t lag too much, the action is engrossing, the scale is genuinely epic and the starry cast do a decent job of bringing a fairly perfunctory script to life; once you accept that everyone has an American accent. I did read the source material while working my way through ‘the classics’ during my gap yah, but can’t really remember if anything major was missed. My cousin, who teaches the actual Classics at Eton, reviewed the film favourably though, so there you go. Do see it on a big screen if you can, even if that comes with the minor irritations of other humans.

The day I chose soft journalism over hard was the day my dad took me to see a war correspondent - Jeremy Bowen if memory serves - speak at the Book Festival. A year into my degree, I stuck my hand up at the end and asked something to the effect of ‘I love writing about things like music and film, but also want to pursue investigative/conflict reporting; could you give me any advice?’, to be met with a paraphrased ‘if you’re even asking that question, what I do isn’t for you’. And he was right. As much as I admire those in my profession that toil for months on one crucial crime story, or go into war zones to send back key updates, I prioritise my safety and sanity over the journalistic cause. As the guy said during the talk, his career highlights have been at detriment of relationships and a social life at times. While I doubt I’ll ever be a celebrated writer, I’m happy with my work/life balance, which is more than can be said for the protagonists in Civil War. Finally on Sky Cinema, Alex Garland’s 2024 film follows a battle-weary group of journos as they attempt to make it to Washington DC to interview a president fighting secessionists in a distinctly dis-united states. I can’t be bothered rolling out the ‘prescient dystopia’ line again, but you get the picture. Thankfully this doesn’t go too hard on that aspect, and is to political thrillers what Annihilation is to alien sci-fi - a woozy road trip that provokes thought and looks great, but is ultimately a bit light on storyline satisfaction. 

Jesse Plemons is very good as an unpredictably unhinged hick. He popped up and shot a few people in the film above, and in Yorgos Lanthimos’ latest, he’s making the most of his natural attributes to menace Emma Stone’s kidnapped CEO character. Someone recommended Bugonia via a comment on here last month, then lo and behold, it materialised on Sky Cinema, so I gave it a whirl. Not sure the film deserved quite that much Oscar buzz, but the aforementioned actors are on fine form and it does get suitably bonkers in the final third. The Greek director’s work is a bit Marmite, but for someone adored by the artsy avant garde, at least it’s not dull.

On a similar tip, Honey Don’t is a peculiar little film from a year or so back. Directed by Ethan Coen, and apparently the second in a ‘lesbian b-movie trilogy’ written with his wife Tricia Cooke, it’s got many of the constituent parts of a good Coen Brothers movie - but seemingly with only one fraternal half, it doesn’t quite fit together. Casting is spot on and development of characters - like Margaret Qualley’s gay PI, Chris Evan’s sleazy evangelist, Aubrey Plaza’s low-ranking cop and Charlie Day’s clueless detective - is slow and solid. The problem is the plot. There are murders to solve, intrigue around the dodgy church and a missing niece to find, but these threads are left in a messy pile; mostly unresolved by the end. It’s got plenty of Coen directorial flourishes, some entertaining violence and a streak of dry humour, but is ultimately rather frustrating. It was far from a box office smash either, so on this form, Ethan won’t be able to finish his trilogy.

This month’s children’s corner pick is Minions and Monsters, which I can confirm entertained a three, nine and 42 year-old in the cinema. The storyline is fairly non-existent, characters come and go at an alarming pace and its far from original, but none of this matters when the slapstick hit-rate is this high; crucial for keeping the youngest in her seat and engaged. There are some lovely little homages to Hollywood scenes and genuine lol gags in there, so if the weather’s pish and you need a break for 90 minutes, this is the one.

Onto TV, and I didn’t think there really needed to be another season of The Bear, but the conceit of each episode being a segment of the restaurant’s final service actually works quite well. These are mostly great characters and it’s a pleasure spending a bit more time with them; particularly without too much world building or extraneous storylines. This format also apparently negates the need for the gritty Chicago shots and bad midwestern rock music in-between scenes. The penultimate episode is a peach and the finale is borderline schmaltz, but the conclusion mostly makes the right decisions, with a good sense of humour and a genuine sense of family between the cast, who - to be fair - must be close after pumping out a season a year for the last few. A really good show that will be missed.

Pride isn’t just for June, so my performative piece of ally-ship for July is to finally avail myself of Russell T Davies’ latest LGBT treatise, Tip Toe. He and director Peter Hoar (who also made It’s A Sin) have set this one in contemporary Manchester, setting out to tackle the state of our nation’s social ills. The pair of them could never be accused of subtlety or slow pacing, this is all kitchen sink plotting and dramatic monologuing - mostly between Alan Cummings and David Morrisey’s leads - but also via some of the fabulous support, like the feisty old drag hag played by Paul Rhys and the troubled transitioning bar staffer portrayed by Iz Hesketh. The suicide spoiler that the start means that the comedic moments get more infrequent though, increasingly outshone by the grim realities of being gay in a time when we’re only an internet hate-fuelled witch hunt away from losing widespread acceptance and hard-fought legal rights; much like we’ve seen recently for transgender people.

I’ve also finally gotten round to watching Legends; Neil Forsyth’s latest. If you enjoyed The Gold - which I very much did - this is much the same kind of craic. Rather than the Met trying to solve Brink’s-Mat, this is the HMRC trying to win the fledgling war on drugs, but they share the same eighties period features: lovely motors, great tunes and nice garbs. I’m only half-way through, but it’s characteristically well written, starring some of Britain’s finest screen talent and with a nerve-wracking storyline.

I like Cunk, I like Mandy, so it follows that I should like Dianne Morgan as a robot, in Ann Droid. She puts in an uncannily dead-eyed, mechanical-movement-ed and peculiarly-voiced performance, which successfully lampoons the low-hanging fruit of our android future. But it’s the humans that make this worth sticking with: the magnificent Sue Johnston as the elderly widower given the machine by her finally-moving-out son played by Paul Ready; among others. The writing is sharp and silly, but there’s also a real depth to the characters and a surprising warmth to the tales being told.

Meanwhile, Chris Packham’s out here cementing his claim to the Attenborough natural history show throne. Evolution is the school science lesson you wish you’d had, living up to all three Rethian values, as he informs, educates and entertains, with a quiff and a Fred Perry polo. There’s lots of licence fee-burning location shoots, but also some great little bits of animation and other ingenious ways to tell this most fundamental of stories - for the most part successfully traversing that fine line between infantilising and perplexing the audience.

How to Get Filthy Rich is the provocative title of self-proclaimed inequality economist Gary Stevenson’s new feature-length documentary about his wealth tax proposals. I broadly agree with some form of levy on multi-millionaires, and on paper his relative rags to riches tale makes him an ideal spokesperson for the movement, but outside of tightly-clipped Question Time segments online and polemic podcast interviews, his shtick starts to fall apart a bit. I’m not quite as scathing as the Guardian’s review, but he doesn’t come out on top in many of the interviews with those that disagree with him. Fair play I suppose for including some dissenting voices, and maybe he has been edited unflatteringly, but I’m not sure this is going to win over that many fence-dwellers, despite many valid points and chats with those on the sharp end of the UK’s wealth divide. Also, if I hear the patronising phrase ‘ordinary working people’ one more time, I’m going to start moving my money into and offshore trust.

The Tech Billionaire Takeover treads somewhat similar ground, but with an actual journalist and documentary-maker at the helm. You might have seen Matt Shea investigating things like drugs, festivals and Putin for Vice TV, but he’s made it to the Beeb with a feature-length piece on the murky world of crypto and associated grift. If you haven’t had the displeasure of having to cover this stuff professionally, as I did for a couple of years last decade, then this is a pretty good primer on how the lofty ideals of a decentralised financial system have inevitably been capitalised upon by dreadful men. And they are all male, from the guys buying their freedom by propping up Trump’s meme and stable coins, to those trying to circumvent national laws with their own sad little states. It’s a pretty sorry inditement of tech bro libertarianism, but annoyingly yet another societal threat to add to the existential cloud over the rest of us.

Taking a slightly lighter tone to the problem of billionaires is everyone’s favourite povvo-king, Blackburn’s snood-ed reaction video star, Shabaz Ali. He suffers from the same inability to skewer interviewees as Gary does, but thankfully Shabz has got a sense of humour to make up for it. And the whole thing feels a bit lightweight, given the gravity of the problem, but at the same time, if it shines the spotlight on wealth inequality for a new audience, then I’m not complaining. Here’s hoping the tide is finally turning, policy and public opinion-wise, against this obscene hoarding of power and assets.

And last, but not least, a quick word on the annual trip to Kelburn Garden Party. Our favourite little festival near Largs didn’t disappoint, no matter how much the dreary drizzle tried to piss on our collective chips. The site was as gorgeous as ever, so kudos once again to all the organisers and artists, and the daytime entertainment and nighttime music was consistently excellent. With several sprogs in tow I can’t really report back many set reviews, but the b2b2b among Dominic Capello, Telford and Stevie Cox got things going on Friday evening and Cooly G was superb for what I heard of her on the Saturday. If you ever see Wizard Wrestling advertised, then do give it a look, because it’s been the highlight of my son’s weekend two years’ running.