Minghella and Clarke

The deaths of film director Anthony Minghella and science-fiction writer Sir Arthur C. Clarke were reported yesterday. Both make me sad, in different ways.

Minghella will inevitably always be best known for directing the Oscar-winning The English Patient but for me his best work was the film adaptation of The Talented Mr Ripley, which he wrote the screenplay for as well as directed. Beyond loving Ripley, I am sad for Minghella's death because he was only 54, and dying from a haemorrhage following surgery for cancer of the neck and tonsils sounds a horrible way to go, all in all.

Clarke's death saddens me in a different way. He was 90, and so had had a good innings, and the last few years of his life he was wheelchair-bound - I suspect he himself wasn't scared of dying any more. And what an accomplished life - on top of the books, films and television work for which he was so well known, he worked on the development of radar during the Second World War (then a top secret) and soon after correctly foresaw the advent of satellite communications, even specifying the height such satellites would have to reach to maintain geostationary orbit. In fact, his 1945 article in Wireless World was so accurate that when the first commercial satellites were launched twenty years later they could not be patented! And then, of course, a short story of his became the kernel of 2001: A Space Odyssey, not just one of the great sci-fi films of all time but one of the great films of any genre. So a life full of achievement and a ripe old age - what's to be sad about then? Just this: as a teenage boy in the Eighties, I devoured Clarke's books. That time, and those books, are over now. Sadness all round then.

Hypocrisy

I am obsessive about recycling. I have energy-efficient lightbulbs. I refuse unwanted carrier bags, and re-use the ones I cannot avoid until they are only fit for the bin, and then I use them as bin-liners. I have a thing in my cistern that reduces water consumption with every flush, and I wash my clothes at 30°C. Speaking of which, all my cleaning products are from the Ecover range. I even compost. At work, I am sometimes jokingly referred to as the company's token eco-warrior, and not just because I introduced green computing initiatives throughout the organisation, but also because I have been known to fish plastic cups out of the ordinary bin in the canteen and transfer them to the recycle bin.

But then I spoil it all by getting in my 225bhp, 0 to 60 in oh-my-god sports car to drive the one and a half miles from house to office. A hypocrite? Maybe. A lippy hippy? Perhaps. Or just flawed, like everyone else? Almost certainly.

Ida Maria is... stella(r)!

I've mentioned them before, but Ida Maria are a brilliant band, and the recent Times interview with the wonderful Ida herself is all the excuse I need to mention them again. Even if it wasn't, their next single "Stella" is released on March 10th too. Utterly recommended.

Whole lotta shakin' goin' on

In the small hours of this morning, I was woken from my sofa-sleep by a rattling and banging that lasted about ten seconds. In my sleep-addled state I thought, "What are next door banging on about now?". Turns out that I had been woken by an earthquake, measuring 5.2 on the Richter Scale. At least I didn't sleep through it.

Work your proper hours

Today is "Work Your Proper Hours Day", apparently - this is the day when the average person who does unpaid overtime here in the UK finishes the unpaid days they do every year, and starts earning for themselves. If you agree that's something worth celebrating, whilst acknowledging that it's also a pretty sorry state of affairs, you may want to read more at worksmart.org.uk/workyourproperhoursday.

There - a whole blog post without emotional frailty, or solipsist teen-like angst. It can be done.

A thousand fireworks

I didn't receive a Valentine's card, but then why would I? I did receive a chocolate croissant for breakfast, waiting for me before work on the wing mirror of my car in a non-Valentine's/Valentine's surprise gesture that really touched me. But that's all.

I did send a card though, and this is what it had written on it:

You are the spark that lit a thousand fireworks;
Bursting and fizzing,
Writing your name across my heart.

This is a quote from Anna Maughan who, I discovered from Francesca, is a director at Urban Graphic, the company behind the Scrawl range of cards that I am more than happy to recommend to you.

I wrote a poem of my own for inside the card, a haiku, but that's personal and I'm not going to reproduce it here. And though I left the card anonymous, and disguised my handwriting, the haiku and other clues were enough for the recipient to work out (with enough certainty to text a thank you) that it was from me. I love the idea of an anonymous card, but what's the point in making it impossible to work out who the sender is? For then the unrequited will surely always remain unrequited?

As it is, despite my clues, the unrequited remains unrequited anyway, but that's another story. On a lighter (?) note, tomorrow I plan to test my theory that saying "I ate a microwaved ready-meal for one" is a sure-fire way to stop people asking how you spent your Valentine's evening.

Not Film 2008... but a film review anyway: "Lust, Caution"

Lust, Caution is the latest release from acclaimed director Ang Lee. Set in occupied Shanghai during the Second World War, this is the story of a young woman who is recruited to act as a honey trap in a plot to assassinate a Japanese collaborator. Complications ensue when the honey trap, Wong (played by Wei Tang, by some way the best thing in this movie), falls for the untouchable Mr Yee.

For every crouching tiger on Ang Lee's CV there is an incredible hulk, and this is a mixed bag too. Yes, it is a wonderfully evocative period piece, but what of the plot? Based on a short story, the credits tell us, one cannot help but wish the film had been a lot shorter too - it is either too long (a good 45 minutes over the top) or just too slow to sustain interest over a running time that tops two and a half hours. Much has been made of the graphic sex scenes, as the cinematic embodiment of a desire that is out of control. Well, maybe, but to me they felt cold, evoking not passion but soft porn, albeit beautifully shot and artfully framed. Rather than leaving me pondering the nature of desire, it just left me wondering how Wong had got into that position...

There is a lot to admire in the way this film has been made and how it looks on screen, but there are plenty of problems too - the mah-jongg scenes feel annoyingly plentiful and wilfully studied, and not enough is made of scenes that could serve to illustrate exactly why the resistance felt the need to undertake such a convoluted assassination plot in the first place. Throw in the fact that the pivotal theme in the storyline, that of Wong falling for Yee, just doesn't feel credible and you are left with a movie that left this reviewer feeling little in the way of lust, but sadly plenty of caution.

Lust, Caution is still on general release, so scurry along to your local independent cinema and make your own mind up. It'll be out on DVD soon too.

John Kettley Is A Weatherman

I'd love to write something serious, portentous or optimistic to usher in the New Year but quite frankly, Mr Shankly, I am far, far from in the right mood to write anything that doesn't come out as bitter, twisted and cynical.

Instead then, let me direct you to my favourite music blog, the splendidly named (for Wedding Present fans) Too Much Apple Pie - "putting the pop in unpopular". Every post contains an MP3 which, with questionable legality, is made available for free download for seven days. Right now, your iPod can get its mitts on the 80s classic "John Kettley Is A Weatherman" by A Tribe Of Toffs. This is a work of unparalleled pop genius, and I urge you to download it now! Quickly!

Gigging hell

In a desperate attempt not to talk about more emotional subjects, I'll instead ask this: what do the following music acts have in common: Scott Matthews, The Jam, Travis, The Happy Mondays, Ed Harcourt, Ray Davies, The Wedding Present, The Good Shoes, Squeeze and The Electric Soft Parade? Nothing, other than that they were the headline acts of all the gigs I've been to during 2007. Lucky (skint) me, eh? Noteworthy support acts included Josh Pyke (supporting Scott Matthews), Rosalita (supporting The Jam), Milburn (at the Mondays-headlined Electric Gardens festival), the wondrous Astrid Williamson (supporting The Wedding Present) and the mind-blowing Ida Maria (supporting The Good Shoes), all of whom I recommend to you.

Wonder who I'll see next year? Am already eyeing up tickets for The Cribs...

Ave (Ida) Maria

I went to see a gig last night, The Good Shoes. They were alright - loud, fast, lively... always a good combination. There were two support acts on: The Mules, who I'm sad to say left me cold, and Ida Maria... who completely staggered me! Ida is Norwegian, and has a voice that reminds me of early (Sugarcubes-era) Björk or Bellatrix. And she really gives it some on stage! In addition to the amazing singing, she plays guitar (though lead duties are left to the equally hard-rocking Gustav) and, thankfully in a time of so much bland music, she has genuine stage presence. Or maybe I am just easily impressed... but at the end of one song, as she up-ended a litre bottle of water over her own head and tossed her hair about, sending droplets of water flying everywhere and make-up running down from her heavily köhled eyes, well, it was quite a sight. The intensity of another song was such that she threw herself to the ground afterwards, finishing the number flat on her back with her legs in the air. I think it's safe to say she was feeling the music.... Oh, and the drummer (Ulle?) can really play too.

So, Ida Maria... my favourite new band, and an unreserved recommendation. Their debut single "Oh My God" was out last month, and their next release is in December. Search Amazon for these releases, or check out Ida's MySpace.