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The Secret Policeman’s Ball

The first Secret Policeman’s Ball in umpteen years took place last night at the Albert Hall. A host of celebrities, etc. Tickets were £100 a go. So we didn’t.

Instead, we watched live from the comfort of the Picturehouse Cinema. Just £12 a ticket, and shorter toilet and bar queues. And no missing the last train.

We ate early; De Luca was unsurprisingly almost empty at 5pm. The show started at nearly 7:45, fifteen minutes later than scheduled and 45 minutes later than shown on our tickets. Bah, to think we could have eaten at the far more respectable time of 5:30.

Here are one-word summaries of various acts.

  • The Zutons: subdued
  • Chevy Chase/Seth Green: OK
  • Jimmy Fallon/Barry from Eastenders: good
  • Dylan Moran: good
  • Andrew Maxwell: hmmmm
  • Jessica Stevenson/Julia Davies: OK
  • Russell Brand: excellent
  • Graham Norton/Ronnie Ancona/Jon Culshaw: impressive
  • Al Murray: splendid
  • The Magic Numbers: meh
  • The Mighty Boosh: acceptable
  • Sarah Silverman: odd
  • Omid Djalili: poor
  • Green Wing: poor
  • Richard E. Grant + others: OK
  • Natalie Imbruglia + David Armand: excellent
  • Eddie Izzard: excellent

Avaragado’s rating: one unopened pot of honey

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Zealotry and dark sunshine

On Saturday afternoon I lunched with a religious zealot and some hecklers. It was unplanned.

I’d wandered into town for a bite to eat pre-film, of which more later, when I was attracted by noise and a large crowd. As I got closer I saw a flip chart and a shouty American, and then a plucky young Brit shouting back. The American was spouting forth about how evolution is fake (using the old “everything has a designer” nonsense), showing diagrams of the dimensions of Noah’s Ark (“he took baby animals, not fully grown ones”), claiming the Earth is 4000 years old, and that sort of thing. The Brit was telling him he was an idiot.

Interested but hungry, I bought a sandwich and returned to watch the argument (resolving to keep my mouth shut, as I’d only get wound up if I joined in). More than one heckler was now involved.

It was scary and creepy stuff. The zealot, a relatively young man, was clearly experienced at this – more experienced than the hecklers. He knew all the tricks, such as deploying the “look, a shiny thing” change of subject whenever anyone started demolishing his argument; requiring proof of any assertion made by a heckler but refusing to offer any when the same question was asked of him; presenting discredited evidence; and so on. And all the while, his comrades circled the group, handing out leaflets.

Most of the watchers knew it was all nonsense and cheered on the hecklers. One heckler, most likely an academic, probably a philosopher or similar spod, knew his theology better than the zealot. It was no use: as in the wider world, the American shouted loudest.

Scariest of all, when the zealot finished a few people applauded and went up to congratulate him. I hurried into Waterstones and cuddled the new Richard Dawkins hardback, The God Delusion.

Thence to the Picturehouse, for Little Miss Sunshine with Chris, Louise, Andy and Chef. Satirical, dark, funny. Superb. I’ll say no more on that, as I hadn’t even seen a trailer before watching the film and it was all the better for that, I think. But if you have seen the trailer, see the film anyway.

Avaragado’s rating: frozen yoghurt

Next up: Cotto, a new restaurant next to the Tram Depot on East Road. This too met with my approval, though it might not suit those (a) on a budget and (b) with Chef. Expensive tastes, these city boys. “I didn’t think I ordered port,” indeed.

Avaragado’s rating: too much salt

Chris took a selection of photos during the day with his new camera. Yes, we went to pubs too.

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It’s what she would have wanted

Knocks, enters.

Bows—from the neck—walks forward, shakes hand, bows again.

We saw The Queen tonight. It’s odd to watch on the big screen what is, in essence, a historical drama-documentary for events as recent as nine years ago. (But I guess no less odd than the recent spate of September 11-related films.)

Thank god it wasn’t a Hollywood treatment. No, actually, that might be quite funny.

The major players in the drama are all well realised, her maj herself in particular – Helen Mirren looking like a morphed version of herself and the real Brenda. Philip is suitably grumpy, Charles permanently paranoid and fiddling with his cuffs, the dear old Queen Mum half-cut, and Tony Blair all bright eyes and cheshire grin in the heady early days of his premiership.

There are no villains in the film; everyone tries to do the right thing, even if it’s entirely the wrong thing given the circumstances. It’s a very sympathetic portrait of the Queen, in fact – stuck between the traditionalists and modernisers, with her own instincts letting her down.

Tony Blair is portrayed more or less as the hero of the piece: not exactly the saviour of the monarchy, but certainly the one giving it a slap when it needed it. Some people will harrumph about this, but it’s hard to say that he did anything wrong. (The film shows how the newspaper headlines were entirely pro-Blair at the time; I wonder what the Daily Mail’s film reviewer thinks of it.)

The week after Diana’s death was of course completely bonkers and increasingly surreal, and we see it all: from Blair/Campbell’s “people’s princess” speech to the crowds in Hyde Park applauding Earl Spencer’s eulogy in Westminster Abbey. It brought back a lot of memories, not least Tom at the Wrestlers telling us that yes, he would be open on Saturday, the day of the funeral, because “it’s what she would have wanted”.

Excellent film.

Avaragado’s rating: one green olive

Exits walking backwards.

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Pasta la vista, GCC

Oh, what an awful subject line. I do apologise.

Goodbye Siam Thai, Hello De Luca Cucina & Bar. Whenever we went to Siam Thai we were approximately the only customers, so I guess there’s no real surprise it’s disappeared and the Italians have muscled in. I don’t know how long it’s been open in its new guise, but we went there last night for the first time.

Packed to the gills it was, barely room for our table-for-five (Me, Andrew, Chris, Louise and Andy). Yet some bread’n’oil appeared within seconds, and we disappeared it almost as quickly. My inner cynic wondered whether this was a signal that they wanted us out as speedily as possible, but my doubts were misplaced – we weren’t hurried at all.

I’m afraid I was the only one drinking the white wine. It’s such a burden. (OK, Chris helped out at the end of the evening.)

The food was very good. As far as I recall. I don’t think we annoyed any of the twosomes sprinkled around us.

Avaragado’s rating: one unwanted piece of tofu

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Renaissance

On Friday I went to see Renaissance (caution: Flash, noise) at the Picturehouse with Andrew and two of his other friends. I’d never heard of it before, but the trailer looked interesting.

Black and white – almost literally 2-bit colour – and entirely CGI, it has a unique visual style. Lots of swooping around 2054 Paris, lots of rain, lots of smoking.

It’s a mocapfest, each character portrayed by a credited motion capture artiste as well as a voice artiste. Made in France, there are at least two, er, localisations available – French and English (this may extend to more than just dialogue – some text was in English only, I think, and I can’t imagine yer frenchies would stand for that in a home-grown film).

The trouble is, of course, that it’s easy to get a disconnect between the physical and vocal portrayals. I do feel that some of the physical acting is a touch hammy. And some of the (English) vocals don’t work too well either, despite the names involved (Daniel Craig plays Bond the policeman, Jonathan Pryce the corporate supremo). Some of the lines are dud, but I can’t remember any specific examples; I very much suspect a lossy translation. (A few times I was reminded of poor cut scenes in video games, but not often.)

Like A Scanner Darkly, I wonder whether the film’s visual style disguises a pedestrian plot. I’m also certain that Pixar would have produced something technically better (in less time – it took six years to make), but then they’d have been able to throw more money at it.

Having said all that, I liked it; and it’s worth seeing if only for the visuals. Characters drive a Citroen-supplied concept design, and Paris 2054 is very well realised in its own special black and white way.

Avaragado’s rating: a bowl of prunes

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Supermeh

Things I liked about Superman Returns:

  • The reuse of the original John Williams theme and style of opening titles. (Geek.)
  • Marlon Brando, still acting despite being dead for several years.
  • Brandon Routh. (Did you expect me to say anything else?)
  • Kevin Spacey.
  • The image of Superman with car aloft, taken directly from the cover of Action Comics #1 of June 1938 (though on the cover he was smashing it, not placing it gently down as in the film). (Geek.)

Things I disliked:

  • The pacing. Oh, it’s so slow.
  • The cute kid.
  • Kate Bosworth as Lois Lane. (I’m not worried about her bouncing around an airplane cabin without sustaining a single bruise, because, well, Superman can fly.)
  • Richard Branson as a shuttle crew member (you could also spot “Virgin Galactic” in the background of one scene). All credit to him, he’s a PR genius. But, gah.

On balance, it was OK, but no more than that. Bryan Singer did a better job on X-Men.

Avaragado’s rating: fourteen pretzels

Post film, post pint, we ate at Fitzbillies. For some, the first ever visit. It could be the last too: small menu, very small portions. My creme brulee was no more than two inches in diameter, probably less. But not cheap, oh no.

Disappointing. We undertipped, despite a 12.5% tip being added to the bill as we were a party of five (since when was that a large party?).

Avaragado’s rating: a stack of seven mini pizzas on a big plate drizzled with “jus”

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Avaragado’s film festival

I’ve seen two films at the Cambridge Film Festival this week, and one with the proles at the Vue. My thought-provoking and in-depth reviews follow.

It’s Nice Up North

In this ultra low-budget docucomedy, John Shuttleworth attempts to prove that northerners are nicer than southerners by talking to random people in Shetland (not the Shetlands!). He keeps heading further north until there’s nowhere to go, accompanied in part by a tourist guide who tells stories continuously whether or not anyone’s listening or even present.

Diverting. Reasonably funny if you like John Shuttleworth, and I do.

The screening was followed by a live Q&A with John Shuttleworth’s alter ego Graham Fellows and his cameraman, renowned odd photographer Martin Parr. John Shuttleworth is essentially Fellows with make-up, costume and facial expression; not much acting required.

Avaragado’s rating: tomato soup

Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest

Too long by half an hour. Not as original (obviously) or as funny as the first film, but several humorous set-pieces.

Bill Nighy and his not-quite-right accent naturally steal every scene they’re in. Johnny Depp, well, camps it up magnificently again. Mackenzie Crook reprises his role and does very well; there’s a great scene where he debates the correct pronunciation of “Kraken” with crewmates.

There’s a weak ending. Without giving anything away, there’s no true resolution but only a set-up for the third film, made back-to-back with this one. Back to the Future did a better job.

Avaragado’s rating: coconut milk

A Scanner Darkly

Rotoscoped Keanu and friends in drug-based thriller action. The UK premiere, surprisingly.

The rotoscoping is very well done, if (deliberately, I’m sure) eye-bending in places. The stand-out performance is by Robert Downey Jr., but I always enjoy Woody Harrelson in roles like this (a kind of druggy version of Woody from Cheers). Keanu plays Keanu as only Keanu can, which at least means less of that tricky acting business.

Post-film it was suggested that had this not been rotoscoped and therefore Interesting, it would have been generic-by-numbers and therefore Tedious. There’s something to that, but there’s also the Philip K. Dick background to consider. Wikipedia’s summary of the story suggests film-faithfully-following-original-story shocker, which is, I submit, a good and healthy thing.

Avaragado’s rating: blue smarties

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This blog entry was brought to you by the letter Q

Another Saturday, another West End musical in oppressive heat. This time I and my culturally sophistimacated chums went to see Avenue Q, the Tony award-winning Broadway show still technically in preview here but very polished nonetheless.

I won’t spoil it for you (Wikipedia will if you’re keen), but in brief, it’s muppets for grown-ups. Not true muppets, as those are in the loving embrace of the Muppets Holding Company, but extremely close relatives thereof.

In case you’re fretting over the mechanics of the production: the muppet operators are visible, and use the stage exactly as unmuppeted actors do. Each operator owns a couple of characters, performing all their actions and voices (there’s no attempt at ventriloquism). When two characters owned by the same operator are on stage simultaneously, another operator does the actions but the owner does the voices. It’s very well done, and you quickly focus on the characters and not the operators.

There are some human characters as supporting cast. The stand-out human is gloriously named Christmas Eve, a stereotypical OrientalAsian-American, played by the only cast member to transfer from the Broadway production.

Oh, it’s just great. Avaragado commands you to see it immediately.

Avaragado’s rating: eight fruit pastilles

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England v Chicago

I love coincidences. Like booking months in advance to see a 3pm performance of Chicago in the West End only for England’s first match at the World Cup finals to be scheduled to start at 2pm on the same day. Yes, coincidences, I love ’em.

Lynda, Louise, Andy and I trained from Cambridge, Chef trained from High Wycombe, and we met outside Covent Garden tube just after 1pm. It felt more like Rome than London due to the heat, but a Rome invaded by England supporters. After an air-conditioned toasted panini we found a pub yards from the Cambridge Theatre so we could watch the first half. I’d predicted 1-1, but the early England goal was a worrying development: early goal for leads to cockiness leads to two goals against. I think it was Yoda who said that.

With ten minutes before curtain up the half-time whistle went and we dashed out to take our seats. Louise’s dad was primed to text her any footie developments.

We had an excellent view from the back of the stalls. But the heat was stifling, and Lynda – suffering from an early morning late night – had trouble staying awake during the first act, despite the talent on display. Andy failed to heckle Bonnie Langford, playing Roxie Hart, for her crimes against humanity in Doctor Who. A fat man last seen as one of the cast of the sitnocom Bread played Roxie’s husband Amos. Some pseudo-Sacha Distel garlicked up the role of Billy Flynn. Someone ejected from X-Factor by the great British public played Mama. There were lots of jazz hands.

At half-time in the show, Louise confirmed the full-time score in the football. Shame there hadn’t been more England goals – we’d speculated that we’d be able to hear cheers from outside, or someone in the theatre audience would find out and gesticulate wildly, or maybe even the cast would insert the news somehow – newspaper headlines feature more than once in the show. Still, 1-0 will do.

I was familiar with the musical numbers, the film having played in my presence (I wasn’t paying much attention to it) and having watched the excellent Channel 4 show Musicality (the winners played the major roles in Chicago in the West End, for one night only, and very good they were too). I think there must have been an American sitting not too far away, as someone kept yelling “Yeah!” after each number as us Brits applauded politely.

It was a polished performance: no slip-ups and technically very good (I am, of course, an expert in these matters). Since I find it hard to remember lyrics at all, I’m full of admiration for those who can sing “Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes they both/Oh yes, they both/Oh yes, they both reached for/The gun, the gun, the gun, the gun/Oh yes, they both reached for the gun/for the gun” while dancing, in time with everyone else.

Avaragado’s rating: peppered ragout

We stayed in Covent Garden for a pint at the Nag’s Head, met up with Sarah and Ades who were up from Bath for the day, and went for another pint at The Cove, nicely tucked away above a pasty shop with a view of the alleged entertainment badgering tourists below. Then to Fire and Stone, a posh pizza restaurant. None of yer Margheritas here: you get pizzas named after cities, such as the (may as well follow the theme) Chicago or Byron Bay. Occasionally non-intuitive ingredients, but very tasty.

Avaragado’s rating: bombay mix

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Paul Merton’s impro chums

Months ago Louise organised tickets for Paul Merton’s improvised comedy show, at the Corn Exchange for one night only. If you remember Whose Line is it Anyway?, it was like that but with more swearing and without Clive Anderson. Attending were myself, Louise, Chris, Melanie, Andy Heckford and Chef.

Alongside Paul Merton on stage were Steve Steen, Jim Sweeney, Richard Vranch-at-the-piano, Lee Simpson and Suki Webster. Older viewers may remember Steve Steen and Jim Sweeney from CBTV, back before Children’s ITV was called Children’s ITV. Due to MS Jim’s now in a wheelchair; if you think wheelchair-related comedy was thus out-of-bounds you’ve been in America too long. If you’ve never heard of Lee Simpson or Suki Webster, welcome to our little club.

We had the usual games: shouting out of theatre styles, inclusion of random objects in the plot, and similar japes. They must hear the same old things every time.

At half-time the audience were invited to scribble scenarios on bits of paper and submit them to the bucket of fate, to be extracted at random for most of the second half. I think we came up with nine or ten ideas. Staggeringly, four of them were picked out (three of mine, one of Chris’s). Two ideas became one-gag sketches: Victorian swingers party (Merton: “I’ve just had a threesome: Isambard, Kingdom and Brunel”), and After the London Olympics (Vranch: “I now declare this stadium… ready” – yeah, too easy, I know). Two were beefier: When octopuses go bad, and the very last one, which you won’t be surprised to learn was Chris’s suggestion, Lobster with a big cock finds Nemo.

I was pleased with the audience reaction to my suggestions, but when Paul Merton read out Chris’s idea it brought the house down.

Our ideas were much better than most of the others – “Star Trek on Mars”, I mean, for god’s sake. And there’s only one possible gag for “Narcoleptic meeting”, and that’s been done a thousand times already. As an exercise for the reader, guess the sketch resulting from the idea “a toothpick” (it’s very short).

Extremely good fun overall.

Avaragado’s rating: mushroom biryani

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