Oops. I'd forgotten about this blog. I will think of what to write about based on what I've read/seen lately, but in the meantime, something more about Paddington.
Two of us were talking to two more friends, and we mentioned the evil woman in Paddington. Jane had a fit. There's no evil woman in Paddington! There is in the film. She then gave us a lecture about how women are portrayed in films and books. Always either a victim or an evil so-an-so! The rest of us threw literary heroines at her for the next half hour, but she managed to convince us that they were not in the mould of masculine heroes. As I had just read Bleak House I suggested 'the heroine' but couldn't remember her name. (Esther Somerville). Of course that played right into her hands - an unmemorable heroine!
So ever since then I have been racking my brains to think of someone. I was thinking Bathseba, from Far From the Madding Crowd, but she's a bit of a noddlehead really. I was wondering about eponymous French Lieutenant's Woman, but can't remember the story very well.
So who? All contributions gratefully received. (You needn't suggest Jane Eyre, Jo (Little Women) or even Hermione Granger, who was a Muggle). And I'm not really sure that the Harry Potter series is good literature.
That brings me on to another theory of mine. There are lots of good writers about. Some write in a beautiful style (example to follow) some write cracking good stories (example to follow) but it is only when style and plot are combined that a classic is born.
Friday, 10 July 2015
Friday, 26 December 2014
Paddington
What a sweet bear. I read some of Bond's stories in the '60s when I was a new teacher, and didn't like them too much. I think the father annoyed me!
But Paddington is so chewable. Always getting in to scrapes without meaning to.
I liked the covert message of the story too. It was quite Christmassy as it was about welcoming the stranger. Or to be more topical, it was about immigration!
Photo by Louise Ferguson Bilbao on Flickr, creative commons
Not sure if Bond meant this to be the message, but according to Peter Hunt all authors of children's books are inevitably didactic.
Anyway, we spent an enjoyable Sunday afternoon in the cinema, accompanied by three other patrons.
Tuesday, 11 November 2014
Mr Turner - the Sun is God
Well, we found a cinema that was showing Mr Turner. So we went! What a great couple of hours.
Too much to write about with too little knowledge, so here are a few impressions(!)
Turner was interested - obsessed? - with capturing light. So I thought I would look at Mike Leigh's use of light in the film.
Light before electricity? Ooh, scary. Up to bed by candle-light, shivering shadows, coal-dark corners. Puff, the candle's out and Dracula's dentures drill into your juicy jugular. Make a horror film? No problem.
But Mr Turner is not Gothic horror. Luckily for Leigh Turner had a pretty penny or two, so there are always enough candles in his home to avoid turning the biopic into a literal film noir.
What was really good was the extensive use of window light in what would otherwise have been dark scenes. Turner and his lady love were no beauties (although they saw beauty in one another) but Leigh employs beautiful and subtle chiaroscuro effects in several of their scenes, thanks to a handy window.
Oh, and towards the end of the film Turner's lady love (Mrs Booth) sort of sublimates her grief at Turner's death by going hammer and tongs with cleaning cloths at a window. The same window that lit up the lovers, and from which Turner would have seen the Thames and its shipping. And back tracking to the time when Turner first met Mrs Booth, he took a room at her Margate boarding house because of the view from the window. We, the audience, were treated to wonderfully framed pictures of sailing boats and sunlight, seeing what Turner saw and painted.
The theme of light is pervasive throughout the film.
Leigh effectively uses a looking glass to reflect a doctor sitting on Turner's bed, and if I remember rightly, he used one to reflect Turner on another occasion.
Early on a Scottish woman demonstrates a prism to Turner and his 'daddy' and later, Turner has his photo taken and is fascinated (but worried) by this new art/science.
But the best treatment of light was a sort of trompe l'oeil which Leigh used again and again. You'd see a close up of a beautiful sky filling the screen, all diaphanous colours, like a Turner painting, and the camera would slowly zoom out, revealing more of this painting, until at last you saw Turner walking on the moors or on the beach and you realised this was no painting but (a depiction of) reality. It was as if Turner was so immersed in what he saw that he became it. Turner is his landscapes. Not to mention seascapes.
Another neat little trick that Leigh used several times was when the camera panned across a scene. The focus would become very soft, so the people shimmered, rather like Turner's treatment of light.
I could talk about the light and shade of Turner's character, and branch out into discussing other aspects of the film, such as the wonderful acting, but I'm not going to as I'm tired. Instead, I'll finish with a bit of personal biography.
As a child I lived in London, about midway between Cheyne Walk where Turner lived, and the Tate Gallery, (now Tate Britain) where some of Turner's paintings are displayed. Eleanor and I would walk home from our school in Southwark, across Lambeth Bridge, and often popped in to the Tate and have a look around. We didn't realise how lucky we were. If we decided to take the bus we would change at the Houses of Parliament, and sometimes would wander up Whitehall to the National Galley. My favourite painting was Da Vinci's Virgin of the Rocks,
Years later, I took a party of school children to the National Gallery. We were studying the topic of water, and we going to look at Turner's Rail, Steam and Speed, and Piero della Francesca's The Baptism of Christ, among others.
What was especially good about it was that it was our OFSTED week, and we managed to escape the inspector's evil clutches for the day. Another good thing about that day was that it was my task to talk about the Baptism painting. As a Catholic I was well up on Christian symbolism, and of course, I had prepared extra specially well just in case an inspector decided to accompany us. (Three classes were going). So there was I in this little alcove where the painting is displayed, a group of children sitting goggle eyed on the floor before me, and me spouting off my knowledge. A group of tourists gathered around and listened in, and I quite enjoyed myself pretending I was on TV speaking to thousands. I don't know what the attendant thought. He was sitting on his chair nearby, maybe oblivious to the whole thing, maybe really impressed, or maybe thinking, what an eejit! It doesn't matter. It is a really good memory for me.
Too much to write about with too little knowledge, so here are a few impressions(!)
Turner was interested - obsessed? - with capturing light. So I thought I would look at Mike Leigh's use of light in the film.
Light before electricity? Ooh, scary. Up to bed by candle-light, shivering shadows, coal-dark corners. Puff, the candle's out and Dracula's dentures drill into your juicy jugular. Make a horror film? No problem.
But Mr Turner is not Gothic horror. Luckily for Leigh Turner had a pretty penny or two, so there are always enough candles in his home to avoid turning the biopic into a literal film noir.
What was really good was the extensive use of window light in what would otherwise have been dark scenes. Turner and his lady love were no beauties (although they saw beauty in one another) but Leigh employs beautiful and subtle chiaroscuro effects in several of their scenes, thanks to a handy window.
Oh, and towards the end of the film Turner's lady love (Mrs Booth) sort of sublimates her grief at Turner's death by going hammer and tongs with cleaning cloths at a window. The same window that lit up the lovers, and from which Turner would have seen the Thames and its shipping. And back tracking to the time when Turner first met Mrs Booth, he took a room at her Margate boarding house because of the view from the window. We, the audience, were treated to wonderfully framed pictures of sailing boats and sunlight, seeing what Turner saw and painted.
The theme of light is pervasive throughout the film.
Leigh effectively uses a looking glass to reflect a doctor sitting on Turner's bed, and if I remember rightly, he used one to reflect Turner on another occasion.
Early on a Scottish woman demonstrates a prism to Turner and his 'daddy' and later, Turner has his photo taken and is fascinated (but worried) by this new art/science.
But the best treatment of light was a sort of trompe l'oeil which Leigh used again and again. You'd see a close up of a beautiful sky filling the screen, all diaphanous colours, like a Turner painting, and the camera would slowly zoom out, revealing more of this painting, until at last you saw Turner walking on the moors or on the beach and you realised this was no painting but (a depiction of) reality. It was as if Turner was so immersed in what he saw that he became it. Turner is his landscapes. Not to mention seascapes.
Another neat little trick that Leigh used several times was when the camera panned across a scene. The focus would become very soft, so the people shimmered, rather like Turner's treatment of light.
I could talk about the light and shade of Turner's character, and branch out into discussing other aspects of the film, such as the wonderful acting, but I'm not going to as I'm tired. Instead, I'll finish with a bit of personal biography.
As a child I lived in London, about midway between Cheyne Walk where Turner lived, and the Tate Gallery, (now Tate Britain) where some of Turner's paintings are displayed. Eleanor and I would walk home from our school in Southwark, across Lambeth Bridge, and often popped in to the Tate and have a look around. We didn't realise how lucky we were. If we decided to take the bus we would change at the Houses of Parliament, and sometimes would wander up Whitehall to the National Galley. My favourite painting was Da Vinci's Virgin of the Rocks,
Years later, I took a party of school children to the National Gallery. We were studying the topic of water, and we going to look at Turner's Rail, Steam and Speed, and Piero della Francesca's The Baptism of Christ, among others.
Friday, 31 October 2014
No Effie or Mr Turner
Bloody Odeon. And Vue. And all other cinemas near us. We've been looking forward to seeing Mr Turner for ages, and it it is due out today, but we would have to travel to York to see it. Right, York isn't that far, but parking is a bugger, and anyway, it's the principle.
The same thing happened last month with Effie Gray. It sounded a really good film, and John loves the Impressionists, but no, Hull isn't showing it. Well, we can't really complain to Hull, it's all the cinemas in the area who decided they wouldn't earn enough money in Hull as all people in the area are morons.
I'm not sure if this is the reason, but a similar thing happened in 2011 with The Artist. There was some publicity in local papers at the time, and the allegation was that the powers that be thought the moronic people around here couldn't cope with a silent film, so it wasn't put on. Well, I think it got a two day showing somewhere, as a couple of my Creative Writing friends saw it, but by the time I knew it was all past and gone. We saw it recently courtesy of LoveFilm dot com, and I suppose we will have to wait for that now for the other two films.
Unless we trek up to the refined city of York.
The same thing happened last month with Effie Gray. It sounded a really good film, and John loves the Impressionists, but no, Hull isn't showing it. Well, we can't really complain to Hull, it's all the cinemas in the area who decided they wouldn't earn enough money in Hull as all people in the area are morons.
I'm not sure if this is the reason, but a similar thing happened in 2011 with The Artist. There was some publicity in local papers at the time, and the allegation was that the powers that be thought the moronic people around here couldn't cope with a silent film, so it wasn't put on. Well, I think it got a two day showing somewhere, as a couple of my Creative Writing friends saw it, but by the time I knew it was all past and gone. We saw it recently courtesy of LoveFilm dot com, and I suppose we will have to wait for that now for the other two films.
Unless we trek up to the refined city of York.
Friday, 24 October 2014
Bleak House - The Dear Old Doll
I'm not a psychologist. So why am I trying to analyse Esther's burial of her doll?
There's this matrix that goes.....
So..
Did Esther hate her mother and wish her dead?
Did she even see the doll as her mother?
Esther definitely portrays the doll as a steadfast and mature help.
Dolls are usually substitute babies. Esther doesn't overtly treat Dolly as a baby, in spite of the fact that she typically spends her life at the service of others, and is called so many names, none of them particularly motherly I must admit (Mrs Shipton, Old Woman, Dame Durden) that 'my own name became quite lost among them'. Maybe the burial of Dolly is a proleptic device on Dickens' part, foreshadowing her loss of identity in the service of others. It's not until after the small pox that she experiences a sort of resurrection, and finds that people love her for herself.
I know I should develop what those nicknames signify, old age? barrenness? foster children? but I'm trying to stop using the word 'should' and I'm embarrassed by my conscious incompetence. Also, I'm a wee bit bored with Dolly.
My conclusion is that she was saying goodbye to childhood.
THE END.
There's this matrix that goes.....
- Unconscious incompetence
- Conscious incompetence
- Conscious competence
- Unconscious competence
I.m at the conscious incompetence stage but am foolishly rushing in to this instead of maintaining an angelic stand-off.
Here goes.
Esther is reaching puberty when she buries her doll. The obvious conclusion is that she is putting childhood behind her as she leaves her first home to start at a new school.
Or
The doll could be a projection of herself, and she sees this as a symbolic suicide. She had no self-esteem, thought it was her fault that she received no love from anyone, and had been told by her aunt that it would have been better if she had never been born.
Or
Or
The doll could be a projection of herself, and she sees this as a symbolic suicide. She had no self-esteem, thought it was her fault that she received no love from anyone, and had been told by her aunt that it would have been better if she had never been born.
Or
How about we see the doll as a mother figure? Kids starting boarding school leave their mother behind and forge new relationships, putting their childhood behind them in this rite of passage.
There is also the possibility that they hate their mothers for this betrayal, and want them dead.So..
Did Esther hate her mother and wish her dead?
Did she even see the doll as her mother?
 |
| Photographed by Mary Harrsch at The Enchanted World of Dolls, South Dakota |
Esther definitely portrays the doll as a steadfast and mature help.
Dolly was beautiful.she used to sit propped up in a great arm-chair, with her beautiful complexion and rosy lips, staring at me—or not so much at me, I think, as at nothing—while I busily stitched away and told her every one of my secrets.For Dolly, think Lady Deadbeat. Beautiful, remote and no bloody use? Whilst saying how much she loved her doll, and how she told her everything, Esther can still see that Dolly is staring away at nothing. Kill her!!!!!!!!!!!
Dolls are usually substitute babies. Esther doesn't overtly treat Dolly as a baby, in spite of the fact that she typically spends her life at the service of others, and is called so many names, none of them particularly motherly I must admit (Mrs Shipton, Old Woman, Dame Durden) that 'my own name became quite lost among them'. Maybe the burial of Dolly is a proleptic device on Dickens' part, foreshadowing her loss of identity in the service of others. It's not until after the small pox that she experiences a sort of resurrection, and finds that people love her for herself.
I know I should develop what those nicknames signify, old age? barrenness? foster children? but I'm trying to stop using the word 'should' and I'm embarrassed by my conscious incompetence. Also, I'm a wee bit bored with Dolly.
My conclusion is that she was saying goodbye to childhood.
THE END.
Tuesday, 21 October 2014
Gone Girl - no spoilers
Well, John was keen to see this film, but when I heard it was over two hours long I joked on FB that I thought I would bring my knitting.
No need. I don't think I blinked once throughout the film.
The acting was superb, the pace was fast, and we got straight into the story.
I've read many American crime stories, and while watching the film I had the same sensation as reading a really good author - say Deaver - and not wanting to stop reading.The story unfolded with several twists, and I couldn't wait for the next one.
I was hoping to write deep thoughts about this film, examining the symbolism etc, but couldn't see much. The film did show how the media report on news, and how the public can over-react. It also showed a marriage under strain (not quite a seven-year-itch) with money problems, unfaithfulness and a general drifting apart. It also showed one really wicked person!
Negative points - no use of cctv cameras anywhere, no neighbours saw anything, how did Amy get that expensive haircut when she...... oh, no spoilers, don't hospitals clean off blood before discharging anyone, And I was disappointed in the ending, but could see the point of it.
On the whole, a cracking good film. Not sure if I'll read the book. The story depends on the twists and turns, and I know them now. However, the book has a different ending. Maybe I will.
No need. I don't think I blinked once throughout the film.
The acting was superb, the pace was fast, and we got straight into the story.
I've read many American crime stories, and while watching the film I had the same sensation as reading a really good author - say Deaver - and not wanting to stop reading.The story unfolded with several twists, and I couldn't wait for the next one.
I was hoping to write deep thoughts about this film, examining the symbolism etc, but couldn't see much. The film did show how the media report on news, and how the public can over-react. It also showed a marriage under strain (not quite a seven-year-itch) with money problems, unfaithfulness and a general drifting apart. It also showed one really wicked person!
Negative points - no use of cctv cameras anywhere, no neighbours saw anything, how did Amy get that expensive haircut when she...... oh, no spoilers, don't hospitals clean off blood before discharging anyone, And I was disappointed in the ending, but could see the point of it.
On the whole, a cracking good film. Not sure if I'll read the book. The story depends on the twists and turns, and I know them now. However, the book has a different ending. Maybe I will.
Sunday, 19 October 2014
Bleak House - The Mothers
Mothers who didn't read Doctor Spock, or see Star Trek
In no particular order, except as I think of them. (Which is, in fact, a particular order)
Mrs Jelliby
A woman with a mission! Campaigning for Africa while her own little jelly babies are falling down stairs, wandering after sheep or being enslaved by a prodigious amount of letter writing.
There were two classes of charitable people: one, the people who did a little and made a great deal of noise: the other, the people who did a great deal and made no noise at all."
However, I would quite like to live in a house like that. As long as I wasn't Caddy.
Mrs Deadbeat otherwise known as Lady Honoria Dedlock
I never really took to her. Proud, bored, faints over some handwriting, reveals herself to her daughter, says they must never meet again (what would the neighbours say) runs all over the place, only to die by her lover's grave. By the time we hear she thought her daughter was dead it was too late for me to love her. And her poor husband!
Mrs Pardiggle
A woman of 'rapacious benevolence', so generous with her children's money. Sticks like a limpet to the undeserving poor once she's stopped knocking everything over. Those kids are so going to turn on her one day.
Missing Mums
Mummy Dedlock (again)Mrs Rouncewell, although it's not her fault
Mrs Squod (don't know if it's her fault or not)
Mrs Smallweed, but her family probably drove her to suicide
Jo's mum
Mrs Necket who would have been so proud of her family
Yummy Mummies
Mrs Bagnett
Formidable with an umbrella. She makes up for saddling her children with preposterous names by being good and kind and organised and Victorian (when she's not running around sorting out the Captain)
No one else, but Mrs Bucket would have been a great mum. We need more little Buckets in the world.
Other Mothers
Mrs Woodcourt. Snob, scheming, but she must have done something right to produce a hero.
Some of the children become mothers. Caddy is a good one. Charley would be great.
The Big Daddy of all Mummies
ESSSSSSSSSSSTHERRRRRRRRRRRR
Esther had a faithful doll, who was always there for her. (That's what faithfulness means!).
It almost makes me cry to think what a relief it used to be to me when I came home from school of a day to run upstairs to my room and say, "Oh, you dear faithful Dolly, I knew you would be expecting me!" and then to sit down on the floor, leaning on the elbow of her great chair, and tell her all I had noticed since we parted.
She buries Dolly in the garden, and spends the rest of her life modelling herself on the dear old doll in expiation for the matricide, Quiet, unassuming, there for everyone. TBH she does speak out on several occasions, when she thinks it will help, but she always remains Dickens' perfect female. I think.
P.S. OH and I saw Miriam Margolyes presenting her excellent 'Dickens' Women at Hull Truck Theatre. Wish I had read this book first. Esther must have got a look in.
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