The universal truth about Fight Club

I have never reviewed a YouTube ckip before...

My fondness for Jane Austen has been reported here many a time. I am indeed a latecomer to her genius, and I do love the modern stuff that has been done with her few novels. She has been transformed into a real horror show. She has been mashed-up with time-travel.

And now there is this puppy:



One of my favourite films, meets one of my favourite genres of novels and dramas. This is the REASON YouTube works!!

Detective Story

I can't say that I've ever really been hugely into detective fiction. Sherlock Holmes and Arthur Conan Doyle have never really pushed my buttons. I did like The Great Mouse Detective, Disney's rodent version of Sherlock (maybe that is where my irrational phobia of rats comes from.... Damn Rattikin). And when I was in London town, I did do a little bit of sniffing around Baker Street tube station with its Sherlock silhouettes, complete with pipe and flappy hat.

Those silhouettes don't really look like Robert Downey Jr though.

An edition of Empire magazine when I was travelling last year hinted at 2 different feature versions of Sherlock Holmes feature films that were simultaneously in production. But the one that made me just a little excited was the Guy Ritchie one. He does clever action very well. Lock Stock was a phenemenal film - the multistreamed narrative, interwoven with coincidence and cockney rhyming slang. The unfortunately titled Snatch showed Brad Pitt to have a wicked sense of humour about himself, and the Pikeys and pigs held this film together.

Let us not mention his other films, 'cause Ritchie kinda dropped the ball on those ones... Including Rocknrolla, his supposed 'comeback' film. Oops, I wasn't going to mention it!

But he's done a fantastic job with this Sherlock Holmes. The action is fast and witty. Downey Jr is brilliant - and plays Sherlock as autistic, which makes vast amouts of sense really. The hyper-observant detective is multi-talented; science, boxing, weapons modification. Plus he is totally hot. His traditional sidekick, Dr Watson (Jude Law), is much less insipid that I usually imagine him to be. In fact, Sherlock tells the good doctor that the violence he brings is very useful.

The pair from Baker Street bust up a serial killer with dark, mystical, ritualistic overtones. The hints of modern politics and terrorism, the vague references to Masonic cults and the vaguaries of vigilante crime fighting make the Victorian tale a little more relevant than just a period/action flick might otherwise be.

Rachel McAdams is mostly kickarse as Irene Adler. She does some great technical stuff, and some wicked criminal stuff. But as the only female character in here, she does occasionally get demoted to the Damsel In Distress. To the film's detriment. But how else are they going to convey Sherlock's emotional connection to her than from saving her from some impeding destruction (again with the pigs, Mr Ritchie?) than swooping in to save her...? Surely there is NO other way to convey deep and irrational affection from an otherwise rational being like Sherlock than an act of daring heroism.

Do not see this film from the front row. Yes, Boxing Day is the biggest cinema going day in Australia. And yes, the first session we wanted to see was sold out, so we bought tickets early for another session - but we still ended up being late enough to have to sit in the eye-bleed section. And as per Guy-Ritchie-usual, there is a lot of speedy camera work. At the risk of sounding a little bit like David Stratton, I did feel a little sea sick.

Ritchie has done a great job. Downey Jr continues to impress. A great Boxing Day flick, for literally, all the family.

Zombies only want you for your brains

So, zombies, huh?

Seems like they are kind of everywhere. The omnipresent undead

Jane Austen has been busy again (almost as if she is a zombie herself, posthumously prolific, this chick), with the help of Seth Graeme-Smith, creating the deliciously disgusting and post-modern Pride & Prejudice & Zombies. Ever wondered why Darcy so suddenly turned from "she is tolerable I suppose" to "she is the most handsome worman I have ever met"? Its because at the ball where he DIDN'T dance with her, there was a zombie attack, and the kung-fu trained Bennett sisters went NUTS. And Eliza is apparently the best fighter of all.

Have you wondered why Darcy convinced Bingley that Jane wasn't interested? It's because he thought she had been bitten by one of the manky terribles!

And why did Charlotte settle for the really inpleasant and unhumourous Mr Collins? It was because she had been infected by the plague, and wanted to experience married life and have an honourable burial before she died.

The zombies are used to kind of explain all the bizarre conventions of Austenesque society, plus the incorporation of gratuitous violence into a bonnet-tale is a welcome refreshment.

And last night was Zombieland. In the vein of the fanfuckingtastic Shaun of the Dead, this is also a zom rom com. The nameless of characters of Columbus, Tallahassee (once accidentally referred to as Florida), Wichita and Little Rock join forces to cope in the post-apocalyptic ruined nation of the USA.

This film is gratuitously gory. More blood and guts and offal and sinew than any human needs to see. After about 15 minutes, you have to get used to it, or you may hurl (as my companion almost did. Still smiling), you pretty much have to make a decision to see it as tomato sauce and pieces of foam.

It is also high-camp ridiculous. Complete suspension of disbelief is required.

But it is great fun. Join the ride, and shoot the control box to let this film take you away. Killer one liners, really lovable protagonists and fantastic titles that are incorporated into the action the whole way through. Heaps of fun, but not for the weak of stomach.

PS The future of the zombies in pop culture is pretty safe, too. The P&P&Z film is in pre-production, and Zombieland II is set for release in 2011

High Trash

Not as in high brow trash. As in trash of the trashiest order.

I feel a little bit dirty when I think about how much I love Gossip Girl. It is hideously predictable. Heinously overacted. Hilariously unlikely. I mean the chances of such hot hot HOT humans actually being on 16 years old is laughable. And them being served cocktails in New York bars (legal age = 21 there, right?) until their spines turn to tequila is hysterical.

But, like all my other TVDVD addictions, I am well and truly hooked. It could be the traditional tale of fish out of water, the divinely-jawed Daniel Humphries from Brooklyn with a scholarship to the Upper East Side. It could be the inherent bitchiness of high school that is portrayed with accurate hyperbole. It could be the lavish party scenes or nonchanlant way these children talk about jumping a private jet to Europe, filling me with such envy that I need to vicariously live through them. It could be the incredibly and impossibly gorgeous Blake Lively with her stunning blonde tresses and her healthy and voluptuous butt that are both just hypnotising. It could possibly the the angles of Chuck, with his sculpted eyebrows and lineated eyes, and the muscle that he flexes in his jaw.

But it is probably just because I have a penchant for the melodramatic. Gossip Girl is almost a bonnet drama - unrealistically tight dresses, overly embellished curls of hair, inexplicable social mores. It is very Dangerous Liasons. Like a TV version of Cruel Intentions.

And now I have churned my way through season 2, what's a girl to do?
You know you love me. XOXO

BoDra... On A Friday???

Subtitle: It's met its match


Yes, yes, I know the Bonnet Drama's place is reserved for Sunday night, but they are bringing back Inspector Frenchface in my chosen ABC timeslot. This would be my unimpressed face.

And seeing as I am working down at the Boy Factory tomorrow, I felt the need to do something to fill some beautiful and rare hours of solitude. So I hired The Duchess.

I have never been the biggest fan of Keira Knightly. She is a bit too pouty and shouty for my liking. Her posh accent and complete absence of boobs does not endear her in the slightest. Give me a Portman or a Johannsen any day of the week.

And then there is her jaw. In a previous place of employment, I was arguing about the extreme size of KK's jaw, and as proof turned to Google (how did arguements get solved before???) to find that someone had written a BLOG by KK's jaw. The link of http://keiraknightleysjaw.com/ still exists, but it no longer contains the musings and diary entries of the lower part of KK's face.


Seriously, it is huge.

A discussion of her jaw, its size and angle QUITE SERIOUSLY also appears on a site that describes itself as "A site for square jaw women admirers, at last !!" (seriously, who lets these people on the internet?? ). So the accusations squared at me (pun entirely intended) about my unfeasible obsession with the Pirate's Girlfriend's jaw are supported by other internet based lunatics. Which, come to think of it, seems to be a less-than-solid defence for my own sanity, but let us move on.

The Duchess was as expected, a bodicy tale of a young woman born out of time. A woman of as great an influence as could be in those days. And quite the 17th century fashionista. With the tiny waist, the bustle and the 2 foot wig with another 4 foot of feather on top... Wayne Cooper's bean poles wouldn't have the strength! The spesh features tell me that this particular Duchess of Devonshire (I have felt like eating scones all night!) was quite the tabloid celeb in her time. The story was a mite predictable, what with the arranged marriage, and the manners, and the domineering mother, and the greasy philandering husband.

And of course there is the delicious affair that she has, going against Hubby Ralph and Too-Tighted-Corseted Mother. She not so secretly snogs him in the park, then romps around Bath leaving The Duke with his Mistress back in London.

Her little bit on the side, destined from the opening scene is the very scrummy Dominic Cooper, playing the soon-to-be PM. Not to go all Antonia Quirkey actor man obsessive, but he is more than a little bit yummy. Since History Boys. Mmmh. (He just might have to be my next Video Ezy Stalking Victim. Note To Self)
Hmmm.

But again, I digress!

Throughout the film, I was trying to get emersed and lose myself in the storyline, but all I kept thinking (aside from 'where are this woman's boobs??) was "has her jaw gotten smaller?". Maybe Keira was born out of time too. Maybe she was meant to be living in the 1650s, with the giant wigs and headpieces that balance out her face. Turns out, when KK has on 5 foot of fake hair, her jaw looks like its in proportion!

Mr Darcy meets Sam Tyler... I mean Amanda Price

It is a universally acknowledged truth that a woman in possession of two eyes and enough hands to hold a novel will be entirely consumed with obsession about Mr Darcy

I was a latecomer to the Austen phenomenon. I HATED studying Emma in year 12. But then, you are meant to hate your HSC texts. (Then again, I loved 1984 and Brave New World...). I managed to avoid Old Jane at uni, but a few years ago I pretty much devoured all her works, along with the appropriations (Clueless, Bridget Jones, Pride & Promiscuity... etc) as well as ALL the film and TV versions of everything.

And in reality,without a syllable of hyperbole, it is a universal truth that Colin Firth is the ultimate in Darcy characters, and he shall never be surpassed.

(and nor shall the Wet Shirt Scene. Phwaor!)

As we have already discussed Sunday Night, as the holiest of nights, should be devoted to The Bonnet Drama.

Last week, Lost in Austen started. It was not as good as the BBC-Firth P&P. Hell, NOTHING is as good as that. It didn't even reach the moorish heights of the Knightley/MacFadyen fluff (that forced both G & I to take sharp intake of breathe at the shot of Darcy striding across the moors. I say again... phwaor!@!!)

In fact, it was a little bit like Bonnet Drama Collides With Life On Mars/Back To The Future. A bit of banging on doors, trying to get back to... the future (in this case, Hammersmith). It wasn't quite bonnety enough to be a totally successful bonnet drama, but it was enough to whet the Austen tastebuds.
On the ABC, we saw it as 2 long episodes, which I understand is different to the ITV screening of 4 eps...


I spent the first half of Ep1, silently begging Amanda to get her bonnet on. The fish out of water leather jacket was just distracting and annoying, when everyone else is looking fab in the decolotage and baloony in the arse in the empire line goodness. Her dramatically ironic whinging about what is meant to be annoyed the shit out of me- Amanda, sweety, you're in a different text, obviously. You got drunk and snogged Bingley. Your Mr Collins sniffs his hand once he readjusts himself. And Caroline is a muff diver. We're not in Kansas any more!

As she got into it, as she got MORE Lost in Austen, the story/the audience/Amanda and me all managed to suspend our disbelief a little more. She donned the empire line, she turned the diction up to 11, and dropped the dropping off the ends of her words. She took up the fan, the manners and reignited her Darcy fondness.

And it turns out George Wickham, actually not a bad guy!





Oh, and there was even a bit where Amanda convinced Darcy to jump in the pond, to recreate a wet shirt.... I couldn't decide whether to swoon or laugh hysterically. A combination of reactions I have not really done before...

Of course, the naffest bit was when Darcy followed her through a door and ended up bounding out of a port-a-loo into the main junction at Hammersmith (another one of those "I've Been There!!" moments), and she ditched her dishy boy who was offering her a trip to Barbados (which he sold the Ducati for. Hi5 and Jolly would be MORTIFIED!)... wow, digression much?)

And the All Live Happily Ever After Kissing With Tongues ending was also fairly naff too.

Overall though, it was more obsessive tele. Because, obviously, I need more of that in my life...


BUT!



Ruth Ritchie, possibly my favourite columnist of all (and she writes a TV column... way to go the high brow journo!) in her SMH Spectrum this week... committed the highest form of blasphemy for those that worship at the altar of Austen...


She said And why doesn't one of us, one of the vast league of misunderstood, misguided Elizabeths, get to go back to Highfield, to Pemberton, to the ball, and cock it up our way (jeans, yum cha and swearing).


PEMBERTON!!!! Ms Ritchie has just forfeited her invitation to dine at my estate when Pemberley and Darcy are mine.

Hunt me out

My not so secret guilty pleasure is watching DVDs of TV. I try not to do illegal things like download shows, unless there is no other way I can get my hands on them. But watching season upon season of good (or utterly shite) quality drama or comedy will be a sure fire happy me.

Late last year I stumbled across Life On Mars. The sound, British version. Where it was blokey, sexist, racist, homphobic, sweaty and un PC (pardon the pun) patriarchy, where corrupt cops could pull off believable corruption because Manchester in the seventies was a sesspool of very convincing scum. Unlike that poor excuse for a remake from Across the Pond. Besides, Manchester at least still looks like it did in the seventies. Well, the parts they filmed in, anyway. Rather than using freaky stock/lighting effects... (I gave it a shot. Various Australian TV critics said that I would love it, even though/because I loved the first one. I didn't. They lied).

If you haven't seen the show, get your hands on it, and watch the whole first season without stopping for dinner.

The obsession for me was not in the main story arc. I didn't give a hoot about Sam Tyler and his time-travel/hallucination conundrum. I wasn't sold on the Tyler/Annie love story.

I only have eyes for Gene Hunt.

Despite the sexism, racism, homophobia, slightly dubious behaviour, terrible haircut and tendency toward violence.... Or maybe because of them.... (I never claimed I was a woman without issues).

And I am not the only one. Glenda Cooper has ranted on this one before me (but I only found this rant in my cyberstalking of the character). And as India Knight reports, the very clever British public voted him as some kind of sexiest character in another meaningless poll.

Maybe it's because of the delciousness of the fact that his name is also an act of someone looking for the person with the right chromosomes with which to share to make babies (because if I could end the hunt for genes with him, oh I would. I would!). And a pun that tasty (while a long stretch of the bow) is too much for me to walk by without a nibble.

Maybe its because of his razor sharp wit and matching tongue.

Or his passion and his spontaneous behaviour.

Or perhaps his authority.

Really, I think its because he resembles a seventies version of Mr Darcy. (Wow, that is the second time this month I have mentioned Darcy. Better make a tag for him too.) He is obnoxious, prejudiced, proud, talks WAY before thinking, generally tries to make himself unlikable.

And yet...

He means well. And he is unwavering in his loyalty. Just like Fitz is.

The funny thing is, I only saw it when watching Cranford. When the combination of Gene's powerful manly commanding voice (swoon!) was coupled with the sideburns, ruffled shirt and tight strides. Nothing like a Sunday night bonnet drama to give you an epiphany!