Living closer to the cinema (a 15 minute walk) has meant that this month has a massive eight films lined up.

Spielberg fills in the blanks after the infamous murder of the Israeli Olympic athletes two decades ago in his epic Munich. Focussing on the Mossad agents charged with vengeance on those responsible rather than the incident itself was the first error here. While we watch Eric Bana morph from struggling with his mission to becoming a paranoid but capable agent, we do not care; his inner turmoil is largely his own, motivated only by a flimsy patriotism which, self defeatingly, is gone in the end. The plot itself is entertaining, if a little plodding, but does nothing to communicate a message effectively to the viewer.

A Johnny Cash biopic was always going to feature music heavily, that’s a given. What is surprising is the impressive job that both Joaquin Phoenix and Reese Witherspoon do in the lead roles, allegedly providing the song vocals themselves. The film looks at Cash’s rise to stardom in the first act, but swiftly changes to his pursuit of his would-be wife, despite his drug abuse and family. Sure, there are more interesting parts of his life that could have been looked at, but putting them in a plot would have been haphazard. The writers took an obvious and easy route that, not without challenging moments, paints the lead character as the anti-hero many take him for. Walk The Line is fitting, if rose-tainted.

Hidden (Cache) is, in words that I can only assure you are weak, absolutely dire. Two hours of twaddle that had some of the pieces to make an interesting film (a stalker mailing video tapes of the lead character and the paranoia around that) but was, instead, resolutely dull. For the vast majority of the two hour length, nothing happens. When the few events of the film actually occur, you will be too bored rigid to care. How does the film wrap? Perhaps with the lead character learning a lesson? The stalker being shown justice, or even escaping in some cunning way? Maybe some dubious or deep moralising? The plot strands (any of them) being resolved? Nope. Just a five minute shot of people coming out of a building. Really. An instant place in my worst three movies of all time.

Expecting a chick flick, Derailed both shocked and surprised. Beginning as a story about a man having an affair with a beautiful and intelligent woman, it quickly spirals into a blackmail drama with a sting in the tail. Though the twist is predictable, it is nonetheless enjoyable. The cast, as a whole, put in a sterling performance, the film hampered only by an extra fifteen minutes that tidy things up a little too nicely.

Final Destination 3 is nothing but trashy, fun horror. The “plot”, gaping holes and all, features the same prophetic warning of imminent disaster as seen in the previous two parts followed by fate closing in on the survivors of the accident. Essentially the whole film is just the set-up for some incredibly gory and intricate death scenes. Awful but enjoyable, chewing gum cinema.

The journalists who helped bring down Senator McCarthy get their story told by George Clooney in black and white biopic Good Night, And Good Luck. Tightly focussed on the respected newsmen who fight a lengthy media war to get rid of the overbearing paranoia and witch hunts for communists that the Senator used to get into power, it rarely falters into the extraneous. Smart, short, perfectly paced: along with his previous directorial effort (Confessions Of A Dangerous Mind) Clooney shows he has style and flair, and a well-judged knowledge of the subject matter.

On the other hand, Lucky Number Slevin is all style and no substance. Sharp, witty and off the wall dialogue is lost in a movie that can’t back it up. The plot attempts to be intricately woven and clever but is, in fact, just badly cut. Repeat to self: putting scenes out of order and using revelatory flashbacks is a difficult plot device to get right. Memento understands this, Lucky Number Slevin does not. Obvious, occassionally amusing, and nothing special.

Finally, Aeon Flux is exactly how not to adapt from other media. While I cannot claim to have seen the MTV cartoon on which this film is based, a brief inspection of the film shows that there is clearly a well planned, long term plot and a detailed, intricate universe. For inexperienced hands to fit it all into this 90 minute travesty of an action film means that much of the material is handled in the most juvenile way; trampling over the ideas, rather than nurturing them. That is bad enough; to then further the awful telling by focussing in all the wrong places for bite-sized pieces of time is just unforgivable. Awful.

The winner for February? Good Night, And Good luck. While the Johnny Cash film is excellent and Derailed is solid if not for the final scenes, Clooney’s work barely misses a beat.

While I was gone recently, I spent a few days near Southampton and saw some things I thought I’d never see. Leaving aside what I was in the area for (which turned out to be a bit out of the ordinary) and the horse we saw standing outside a front door trying (someone was in for a real surprise), Brockenhurst train station has some interesting leaflets to browse through. Some were just us being juvenile, some are genuinely frightening. Have a look for yourself in my first Flickr photo set: Signs Of Brockenhurst.

Incidentally, I was surprised by just how easy to use Flickr is. The uploadr software is one of the nicest bits of UI I’ve seen in a long time.

Though it is ever so slightly delayed, let’s go over this years first month of films anyway. It’s not going to prove useful for anyone looking to find something in the cinema (DVD releases must be imminent at this rate), but then again that has never been what this is all about.

First film of the year was Running Scared. The plot revolves around trying to find a kid who stole a gun, previously used to murder a cop, who shot his father. Yes, it’s that ridiculous. If you can suspend disbelief through the convoluted plot and bizarre b-plot (how that paedophile story got into the script, I do not know), you have a reasonably tense if fairly predictable action-drama. It’s not going to win any awards, but there are worse ways to spend your time.

Next up is the surprisingly warm Steve Martin film, Shopgirl. Written by the comedy legend himself, it’s a story that takes Martin away from the laughs (those are provided by the always excellent Jason Schwartzman) and puts Claire Danes in the middle of a love triangle while she tries to understand the changes in her life. At times tender, uncomfortable and nostalgic, this film portrays relationships in more dimensions than mainstream cinema has in the last decade: no-one is perfect and there are no relationships free from deep problems. Save for the misguided narration framing the piece, Shopgirl is a film worthy of anyone’s time.

A lot of people seem to have left Jarhead with the impression that nothing much happened. While that was overtly the point (the first Gulf War being uninvolving for most soldiers), it misses the fairly blinding subtext that this is a film packed with life: from the brutality of the boot camp to the shipping to the gulf to filling endless days in a desert with paranoia and mindless tricks to fight the boredom. A whole war happens and the marines can only bear witness to it, trapped between their old lives and new lives of combat. Beautifully shot, if occassionally overbearing, Jarhead is an experience- rather than plot-driven film. That’s why it was so good.

The final film of the month is A Cock And Bull Story: the impossible to describe, and devilishly clever retelling of the substance, if not the plot, of Tristram Shandy; a book about how life is too vibrant, detailed and fluid to ever be captured by art. While the film begins as a faithful retelling of the book (the first third focussing on the details of the titular character’s birth), it soon zooms out to incorporate the tales of the lead actors: Coogan’s pety one upmanship and affairs, Brydon’s fight for the limelight and terror when he finds it, parodying both of their public figures perfectly. In forgetting to tell the story of the book and, instead, showing the extraneous details that are needed to fully appreciate the telling, the director has captured the very essence of the book: the map is not the territory. An incredibly clever film.

Winner? Though I pointed at Jarhead as being the winner in a previous post, I think Cock And Bull Story has edged it in retrospect. It is a film with as much depth as one would expect from the classic novel it adapts. Though, it has to be said, three of the four films this month were worth seeing.

It’s been… nearly eight weeks since my last post and, I must confess, I’ve barely noticed the time go past. It’s been pretty hectic, what with a new flat, several cities to visit, work being crazy busy and Glasgow city centre proving to be fairly entertaining. Broadband having been installed last week (finally, after some fairly shoddy service by the first people we tried to get coverage from) I will be posting more regularly now, time permitting.

A quick recap of the last two months, including lessons learned:

• New flat in the city centre leading to many nights out.
• Sleep can be bypassed for large periods of time.
• It’s more than possible to avoid the internet for several months without getting overly antsy.
• 22Mbps broadband is ridiculous. Tricky to max out.
• If you shave your head, it will likely snow heavily the very next day. Sort of like a rain dance, but colder. And with less dancing.
• Prague food: the right mix of cheap, tasty and large portions.
• Prague booze: the right mix of cheap, tasty and large portions.
• Prague culture: the wrong mix of tourism, Western influences and the painfully obvious.
• The less people you have at a party, the more people (as an absolute number) that will pass out.
• My new computer (a 64-bit dual core athlon with 2Gb RAM and other silly goodness) is moderately better than my old computer (comparable to a Casio digital).
• To do lists are the bane of my life, yet I keep them compulsively.
• Although sleep can be bypassed, when the lack thereof hits, it hits hard.

Need sleep. Real posts soon.

I know, I know. You’re wondering why I haven’t been filling your lives with long winded articles about obscure attacks, or strange foods or music that no-one else likes. When, you’re surely thinking, will I find out what film Gary preferred out of the four he saw in January? (It was probably Jarhead by a whisker, to ruin the surprise). The reasons are threefold:

1. Work. I’ve been incredibly busy for the last few weeks. There’s nothing quite like a deadline to kill all creative and expressive urges; it’s been a case of going to work, coming home, and vegetating.
2. Going out. To stave off going nuts from the above, I’ve been going out a hell of a lot, not least of all being Mr Murray’s 21st birthday last weekend. I do implore you to search out the photos from that particular night. Not because of the incriminating pictures of Derek (which are sadly mostly private) but for the fact I look like I’ve had a stroke incapacitating half of my face in nearly all of them.
3. Moving. Preparation and pre-moving “smaller” items into my nice new flat has been taking up a fair chunk of my free time. I’ve yet to figure out how to get a drum kit from here to there, but it’ll be a fun challenge. Semantic web geeks please note that it’ll mean that my GeoUrl (anyone actually doing anything with those?) will be accurate within 5 miles for the first time!

Sadly, until I get broadband (and a phone line) set up in the new place, the silence will largely continue. See all five of you fine readers at the flatwarming, no doubt.