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The jaywalking of sex crimes
Jun. 27th, 2005 11:16 amThe shade of a willow and delicious CCPs provided a welcome escape from Thursday's heat; I resisted attempts to get me climbing said willow because I had no desire to be barred from what is quite possibly my favourite London pub. These drinks to mark ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rentaghost31's London stopover were about as social as my weekend got; there was a small gathering at ksta's suburban manse on Saturday (complete with a jam session which, astoundingly, was actually fun for spectators too) but otherwise I was pretty much left to my own devices.
On Friday I attended the Antony & the Johnsons concert; when it comes to gay church music, he is the Jesus to the Hidden Cameras' John the Baptist. There's an almost bathetic sadness to *watching* him sing those songs, though, poor sod. He doesn't play his best song, 'Fistful of Love', but I'm still surprised at the couple who brought their small children to this. The songs are sublime, albeit perhaps more so when eyes are closed; still, there's a size to the sound which I don't think you can catch on CD. And the experience of being surrounded by an omnipresent audience humming with which Antony then duets is most novel.
Emmy-Kate Montrose
at Antony; but sod that
so is Marc Almond
On Sunday I went to see the giant desk. As you crest Hampstead Heath, it's amazing; in a gallery this would mean nothing, but out here it is Art. Closer in, it's too obvious that it's made of metal, that it's anchored, that it hasn't just been left here by a titan. Ah well.
Old School isn't quite on a par with the other films by the Ferrell/Stiller/Wilson/Vaughn/That Lot mob. It's too tied to convention, too busy having a plot. There are too many scenes advancing a straight romcom arc for Luke Wilson's character, and in many of these, shamefully, nothing funny happens. Still, hung around this is plenty that's much more like it - in particular, any scene featuring Will Ferrell. Even when the script's not funny, his face is.
Tristram Shandy was one of the first novels, and yet it pulled all manner of narrative tricks whose pale modern emulations still win prizes and plaudits for their novelty and radicalism. Filming it oughtn't to work. Unless you film it like this, with these people involved, in which case I don't think it can fail.
Finally registering with a London GP, I see a poster in the waiting room declaring "Employment improves mental health". Really? Because I've just started the Idler's new issue, 'War on Work', and they quote a Samaritans survey which declares work the single biggest cause of stress. And a British Social Attitudes report which concludes that 60% of British workers are unhappy with their jobs. Unhappiness and stress improve mental health, do they?
rentaghost31's London stopover were about as social as my weekend got; there was a small gathering at ksta's suburban manse on Saturday (complete with a jam session which, astoundingly, was actually fun for spectators too) but otherwise I was pretty much left to my own devices. On Friday I attended the Antony & the Johnsons concert; when it comes to gay church music, he is the Jesus to the Hidden Cameras' John the Baptist. There's an almost bathetic sadness to *watching* him sing those songs, though, poor sod. He doesn't play his best song, 'Fistful of Love', but I'm still surprised at the couple who brought their small children to this. The songs are sublime, albeit perhaps more so when eyes are closed; still, there's a size to the sound which I don't think you can catch on CD. And the experience of being surrounded by an omnipresent audience humming with which Antony then duets is most novel.
Emmy-Kate Montrose
at Antony; but sod that
so is Marc Almond
On Sunday I went to see the giant desk. As you crest Hampstead Heath, it's amazing; in a gallery this would mean nothing, but out here it is Art. Closer in, it's too obvious that it's made of metal, that it's anchored, that it hasn't just been left here by a titan. Ah well.
Old School isn't quite on a par with the other films by the Ferrell/Stiller/Wilson/Vaughn/That Lot mob. It's too tied to convention, too busy having a plot. There are too many scenes advancing a straight romcom arc for Luke Wilson's character, and in many of these, shamefully, nothing funny happens. Still, hung around this is plenty that's much more like it - in particular, any scene featuring Will Ferrell. Even when the script's not funny, his face is.
Tristram Shandy was one of the first novels, and yet it pulled all manner of narrative tricks whose pale modern emulations still win prizes and plaudits for their novelty and radicalism. Filming it oughtn't to work. Unless you film it like this, with these people involved, in which case I don't think it can fail.
Finally registering with a London GP, I see a poster in the waiting room declaring "Employment improves mental health". Really? Because I've just started the Idler's new issue, 'War on Work', and they quote a Samaritans survey which declares work the single biggest cause of stress. And a British Social Attitudes report which concludes that 60% of British workers are unhappy with their jobs. Unhappiness and stress improve mental health, do they?
