Every year around this time, I have this problem. It’s a debillitating condition. Like that gassy belly wind one gets from fine German wheatbeer or the red-face, chokey cough with tears a girl gets in polite company. Sometimes embarrassing, always compulsive.
It’s the compulsion to be honest. To be meta about where are about where blogging is in Ireland. To navel gaze the navel gazers.
You see, Irish Blog Awards, the national shitfit existed *before* The Frontline. Online, we had the shitstirring post. This year, Twenty held one when he hosted Una’s post. Agree with Una’s thesis or not, the comments were punches left and right sometimes more about past transgressions rather than the topic at hand. There are myriad other posts that have offered us the same opportunity. The opportunity to pile-drive before meeting (or more particularly, missing in transit about the function room) other bloggers that we spike anonymously off. I’m as guilty as the next girl at times.
In some ways, though, the reason I write these posts is that I hope in some naïve way, they’ll help burn off the bullshit and create some kind of forum for people to realise their similarities instead of giving people the chance to pinpoint places to sharpshoot their victims. Online sharpshooting followed by that strict Irish traditional of social niceties and the bitchy convo later. Le sigh.
So, this year because I know we’re still teens in heat, I’ll give the shit-stirring post a miss.
Not a movie nut, but it was great to see Jeff Bridges pick up the Best Actor Oscar for Crazy Heart. His performance was ever so subtle. It would have been both tempting and easy to paint Bad Blake in broad strokes as the washed-up has-been and stay there. Instead, he plays with Bad’s flaws as footnotes in his path of redemption.
When Medicine tells him to stop to drinking and shitting his life down the toilet, it takes loss – that very Country preserve – to help him regrow his self-respect and move on.
For me the best part of the performance was the subtlely of Blake’s physical ticks. I could see a hundred people I know in the grace off his gait or wistful glance. Flashes of my father in the hospital in that head toss ignoring medical advice was fast and hot as I watched it. A truly impressive performance and well-deserved.
In other Bridges news, the high-def trailer for Tron Legacy popped up online this morning. Enjoy.
A single strand of hair from the late Elvis Presley is expected to fetch £600 at an auction in Gloucestershire.
The hair is mounted in the centre of a gold disc, which is inscribed with “The King’s Authentic Hair”. The item includes a certificate of authenticity.
If ever there was a warning signal:
It is being sold by a Gloucestershire music fan who bought the strand “on a whim” through a television auction.
As ref’d on Phil Udell’s Phantom show – Iain Archer – with Running With Dreams off Flood The Tank. I prefer Magnetic North esp Soleil so far, but it’s offlinetastic.
This lunchtime, Microsoft showed off their new Windows Mobile 7 operating system at the Mobile World Congress in Barcelona. Font and UI-wise, its DNA is firmly in Camp Zune. I’d love to play with one to see if I will jump from iPhone. Oh yes.. More details at Windows Phone 7 Series site.
Saw ‘A Serious Man’ over the weekend. I wish had Charles’ review juice and deft touch, but I really, really enjoyed it.
If you’re one that despises black comedy – avoid!
Lead actor Martin Stuhlbarg shines as put-upon country college professor, Larry Gopnik, whose life is slowly imploding in the Twin Cities,1967.
Faced with spiraling personal problems, Gopnik struggles towards righteousness fighting to find inspiration in 1960’s mid-America, where, typically – drugs, vanity, sex and gambling sustains his society. Gopnik also fails to find divine wisdom from Judaism. Each encounter like a great feat of Job interleaved with esoterism that the Coens can weave so well.
The cast were largely unknown to me, except for Richard Kind playing the cyst-draining, odd-ball brother Arthur. Stuhlbarg shines as Gopnik, a man on the edge, desperately flailing from one disaster to the next, unlearning every lesson he has learned.
The only black mark is the ending. In working the audience into the delicate balance of Gopnik’s nerves, the Coens pull the Donnie Darko trigger and get arsey. Viewers watch the coming storm and can only imagine what comes next.
‘A Serious Man’ certainly demands a second viewing. Nominated for Oscars for Best Film and Best Original Screenplay, if there’s a God, a wee golden man for writing should be Coen-bound.