Flaming Zinc

Because my numerous thwarted attempts to see Brokeback Mountain, I was worried that it would not live up to expectations. Thankfully, I was wrong. It is such a tragic yet beautiful story, that it should not be boiled down to being the “one about the gay cowboys”. What struck me most was the hopelessness of all the characters, and how bleak their futures were (regardless of sexual preference). For the most part they seemed resigned to their lot in life and the stark rural setting left me claustrophobic. As Ennis’ girls grew up I hoped that he would give them some cash, a full tank of gas and tell them to keep driving until they saw the sea. I felt that the powers that be were a little heavy handed regarding the future significance of the shirt and the scene between Ennis and Jack’s mother had echos of a similar scene dealing with parental acceptance in The Wedding Banquet.

I wrote a self pitying post in the office yesterday, and in all honesty when I get stuck in that mind set I need a good slap to help me snap out of it. Instead of asking one of my coworkers to assault me I opted for a 90 minute class with a yoga nazi. She contorted me this way and that, and it was nice to unwind.

At the moment I do not feel like I am giving one hundred percent to any aspect of my life. I think this is something I am just going to have to accept and move on. Otherwise I will waste precious time worrying about what I am not getting done, rather than concentrating my efforts on what I can accomplish (I think I have “wood for tree” syndrome. Quite enough navel gazing for the moment, time to concentrate on my forth coming trip to the hairdressers. Should I get bangs, and switch from chunky blonde highlights to red?

What is it about tennis instructors? They seem to be a dangerous combination of play-boy and fallen warrior (I am probably influenced by too much Agatha Christie). Not quite “staff”, but still kept to the periphery and looking for an “in”. Woody Allen’s Match Point examines class and wealth in contemporary London, and it does it so well. It centers on an affluent family and the tennis instructor who courts their daughter. Everything is very dark and tangled, and the best of British talent appear have vied for any role (no matter how small). But, the cherry on top is Jonathan Rhys-Meyers who simply oozes across the screen.

In brief, as the sofa and NCIS are calling, a few words on some of the other films I have managed to drag myself to in the last few weeks. Casanova was a light and frothy piece of entertainment, but Venice proved to be more divine than Heath. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe was escapist and did not disappoint (obviously 29 yr old females with Turkish Delight fixation were the target demographic). To me, Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire felt as if it had been through a chop shop, but truly represented the joy that is teenage boys in awkward social situations. And finally, Munich, which I have been mulling over for a while. If the point of this film is to high light the futility of retribution then Spielberg nailed it. The cast gave a strong performance, and I was particularly taken with the naivety of Avner. He slowly comes to realise that his actions will have direct consequences not only on his country and the world, but also on his loved ones.

An alternative title for Underworld 2: Evolution would be Regression, slightly more fitting in my opinion. They took a smart, sexy, edgy gothic action flick and turned it into a messy, dumb action flick. The story picks up straight after the end of the first film, but for some reason they chose not to explore the implication of the new hybrid vamp-lycan Michael on the underworld. Politics and genetics on the moody streets of Eastern Europe. Instead we are given a clunky back story involving Selene’s family, the “shocking” truth regarding Marcus (whom I did not care for) Viktor double act, and wait for it Cadfael.

Dereck Jacobi headed up a mysterious clean-up team trailing the carnage, but for me all suspense was lost because he ran his operation from a ship and that induced hideous flashbacks to The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen.

All in all I left the cinema more than a little disappointed and was forced to bake a chocolate ginger cake to console myself.

My latest philosophy seminar included a creative writing assignment regarding the culpability of Helen, mine was ever so slightly influenced by Margret Atwood’s new book about Penelope and Odysseus…..

A defence of Helen by Penelope

If anyone is going to defend Helen, it should be me. If any one is going to accuse Helen, it should be me. I am her cousin, her sister, her equal (well maybe not her equal in all respects; virtue and responsibility are two things she cares little about), and her escapades with Paris affected the safety of my family and threw my own conduct into question.

We both married young and well. Though our husbands are older and not what we might have chosen for ourselves. The downfall of a May to December relationship will be temptation. It is our responsibility, as the heart of the household, to stay strong and not be swayed by flattery or the sight of a viral young man. But, it is our husband’s duty to protect us, and for that reason I will defend Helen and blame Menelaus.

Menelaus is both older and wiser than Helen; he should have known the trouble he was getting himself into by marrying a stunner. You would be a fool to believe that the most desired girl would not catch the eye of the gods, and given their predilection for meddling in mortal affairs he would have been wise to engage the services of a soothsayer. That being said, if the gods had it in for you there is little resistance we mortals can put up – my husband’s spat with Poseidon is testament to that.

Of course if Helen’s seduction was not part of a “grand plan” by Aphrodite and a straight forward abduction then Menelaus is wholly responsible. An oath between himself and the fraternity of suitors is not an adequate home security policy. Only a careless man or a fool would leave their property so poorly guarded, that at the first opportunity your guest, your barbarian guest, would raid your vault and your marriage bed. Where were Menelaus’ servants? Did no one notice the procession of his possessions making their way to the harbour?

I find this hard to believe, so I must assume that Helen’s abduction was not entirely unwilling. Even if this was the case, Menelaus is still at fault. Rule number one in the handbook for marrying a hottie is not to leave them unattended in the company of a randy young stallion. You never know what nonsense your guest will spout, and what pretty poetry they will fill the head of your young filly. If the stud is not eloquent in speech then he may rely on his youth and sheer physical perfection.

It is up to the husband to protect his wife from untoward influences. The more beautiful and desirable the wife, the harder the husband must work. Unfortunately for all of us Menelaus did not keep a closer watch on our Helen.

Never have I been so happy to wake up with a scratchy throat and a runny nose than I was this morning. I have felt out of phase all week, short of temper and concentration. I am so relieved that the symptoms can be explained away by this cold. I was seriously beginning to wonder if I was loosing my marbles.

Not quite the bank holiday I thought it was going to be. It felt like the 420th weekend in a row that I did not make it to see Brokeback Mountain. In fact I didn’t leave the flat, bar a mini excursion to buy milk from the deli round the corner but I kept my pj’s on so that trip doesn’t count. I did get a reasonable amount of work done, read a book, watch a bit of telly and stripped mined Radio 4’s In Our Time for shows about the Greeks and the Romans.

But, the most exciting part was ransacking my wardrobe. For the first time in living history I have more coat hangers than clothes! One of my New Year’s resolutions is to try and look more like an arts student and less like a Gap shopper who has lost the will to live. I tend to fall back on wearing the same outfits over and over again. Very repetitive and very boring. Let’s see if this re-jigged wardrobe will do the trick; can I make it through the week with out wearing jeans or falling back on old staples?

I practically passed out through Jack Bauer induced excitement during the second two hour installment of 24. It really should come with a health warning or something, seriously I am too wired to sleep or perhaps there needs to be a “cool down” program afterwards (like when you are on the treadmill). I kinda can see what the BIG scary plot will be, but I haven’t figured out whose all in on the conspiracy and why. BTW I got Jack’s “I am under duress hint” straight away. *Sigh* I wish I could work for CTU, if they had a role for a would-be classicist.

Slight confusion over the plot of The Great Gatsby.

I inadvertently swapped Robert Redford as Gatsby with Warren Beatty as Clyde, and spent the past few days wondering when the larceny was going get going. The fact that Long Island is the novel’s principle location should have triggered alarm bells. Oh well, live and let read.