Japanese Wildlife Part One

One of the most endearing and enduring aspects of Japan, and indeed one of the biggest draws to me as an animal lover is the sheer volume and variety of native flora and fauna that, although often not unique to Japan alone, is so very exotic to European eyes.

An amazing variety of different bugs and beasties seem to show themselves on a daily basis found these parts, and it seems like every week some new creature graces me with its presence. Unfortunately, as is often the case with the local folk, they are utterly oblivious to the rich tapestry of life that is surrounding them, so I have taken it upon myself to chronicle and research as much as I can, garnering what knowledge I can from trusty ol’ Wikipedia.

So, in what shall hopefully become an ongoing series, I shall be sharing some of my more exotic finds. To date, I have seen some of the most beautiful wild animals I have ever come across, and though a few I have failed to capture on film, such as the illusive Itachi (the Japanese pole cat), and many more have as of yet remained in the darkness; the Inushishi (Eurasian wild boar) and the mythical Tanuki (the racoon dog, revered as a spirit of mischief amongst the Shito peoples), I am determined to continue discovering more and more monsters from beyond myth.

Koi Carp

Let’s start with one of Japan’s most famous indigenous species; the prized Koi. Oft seen in the gardens of the rich and frivolous back home, these friendly fishes cost a fortune in the UK, and yet are seen in every river, lake and stream in Japan, swimming around happily, occasionally popping up to the surface to say hello. Inquisitive and smiley, and ranging in colour from a muddy brown to the Technicolor gold and white variety, they never fail to raise a smile with their Fu Man Chu moustaches and gormless expressions.

Imori (House Gecko)

Within my first few days in Yanai, I was amazed to discover just how many of these adorable little lizards there are scurrying about the place, gobbling up all the nastier bugs and generally keeping the place tidy. Though I haven’t seen any over the winter, the summer is now upon us, and ‘tis the time of the season for gecko lovin’. Seen by the Japanese as a friendly house guest, these little lovelies are great pest control and a joy to watch on their nightly patriol.

Ashidakagumo (Huntsman Spider)

Another rather encouraged house guest is the terrifying-looking Huntsman. The size of a dinner plate, there are many horror stories of these chaps hiding under toilet seats and scaring the bejesus out of unsuspecting folk. They are however, harmless to humans, and, along with the house gecko, form an invaluable security team. Just think of the scariest looking club bouncer who still has time to have a chat about the footie.

Zenigame (Red-Eared Slider)

Made famous in the eighties and nineties by that classic cartoon series, this red-masked terrapin is another surprisingly common delight in Yanai. I saw my first one on my first day in the south, and grin with childlike glee ever time one pops his cute little head out of the water since. There’s actually a family that lives in the stream outside my house; my drinking buddies during my morning coffee.

Kama-Kiri (Preying Mantis)

Since reading Durrell’s My Family and Other Animals at a young age, it has seen my dream to see the epic battle ‘tween mantis and gecko. Alas, I haven’t seen such a showdown yet, but the mantis is still one of my favourite beasties of Japan. Mostly nocturnal, these wise looking creatures are hauntingly beautiful; their bulbous eyes and constant meditative mantra emanates a bizarre serenity in which it is surprisingly easy to get lost.

Aburamushi (Japanese House Bat)

I love bats. They are, to me, one of nature’s most amazing creations; their effortless twists and turns and graceful silence is simply breath-taking. Also, they eat moths, so that’s a plus. This little chap comes with a story though. After finishing a very long week at work, I was leaving school, only to discover this fellow sitting on the doorstep of the office. Looking at me with pleading eyes, he had clearly come to me for help after crash landing, knowing that I was perhaps the only person nearby who could aid him in his plight. After ineffectively telling my clueless boss that he was NOT dead, I grabbed a newspaper and scooped him up, depositing him by a wall above which his friends and family were squeaking with concern. With a battish wink, he chirruped his thanks before beginning the long climb back to his vespers. Durrell would be proud.

Mukade (Giant Scary Bastard Centipede)

I have some strange fears. Cows and moths to name but two. My greatest fear, however, can be traced back to Ian Felmming. Remember that scene in Dr. No when Bond is in bed, and the tarantula crawls up his leg and he kills it with his shoe? Well, in the book, it is one of these monsters. Told with nauseating detail; every leg movement, every pincer touch, Flemming scarred my twelve year old self for life with his description of the poisonous Japanese mukade. I’ve heard more horror stories since, and it didn’t help that upon researching local fauna online, I was presented with a picture of one in someone’s bed. Fortunately I haven’t seen one alive yet(this one was thankfully dead). I still check my bed every night though, and sleep with a polished brogue under my pillow.

Ao-Daisho (Japanese Ratsnake)

This was something of a surprise find, but is apparently a common sight in the summer months. Upon going to say my daily Hello to my turtle friends, I looked down to discover this two metre long beauty sunbathing on the river bank. One of the many, many species of snake in Japan, this is the longest and feeds on just about anything it can get its teeth into. I just hope he hasn’t come across my resident gecko yet…

Fright Night Double Feature

Fright Night
(Tom Holland, 1985)

3.5 Stars

The eighties spawned some classic horror comedy flicks. Indeed, it’s debatable as to whether this was the decade that spawned the genre; with the likes of Gremlins, Critters and The Evil Dead, cinema goers saw a new era of B-Movies; ones that not only gave you the willies, they also made you laugh whilst doing so.

In a time ruled by the likes of Freddy, Jason and Michael Myers, a surprise smash hit crept up like some ghoulish beast on critics and audiences alike in the summer of 1985 in the vampiric form of Tom Holland’s fiendishly funny Fright Night.

Starring Hollywood legend Roddy McDowall as a wonderful caricature of just about every vampire hunter he ever played, and lost in oblivion William Ragsdale as high school loser Charley, Fright Night tells the story of an unlikely pair of would be heroes who take on a centuries-old vampire, played with gleeful relish by Chris Sarandon (Childs Play, The Nightmare Before Christmas).

Taking inspiration from just about every vampire tale that came before it, from ‘Salem’s Lot to Dracula, Fright Night is a delightfully campy, laugh out loud romp featuring some special effects to put shame to the vast majority of modern day horror ventures.

It’s a rare thing to truly pull off the horror comedy, but Fright Night pulls out all the stops, and although perhaps not as well known as such classics as Gremlins, it’s a movie that really does deserve its cult status.

Fright Night Part 2
(Tommy Lee Wallace, 1989)

3 Stars

I’ve ranted in the past many a time over the curse that is the horror sequel, and I’m sure I need not go too far into my list of issues with the money-making scam that is the poorly-crafted follow-up at this point in time.

Fortunately, it seems, when it comes to the horror comedy, a lot more thought goes into the sequel, and rather than just turf out any old tosh, producers are much more keen to keep some sense of the odd-ball integrity of the original. Just see Jack Frost II: Revenge of the Mutant Killer Snowman for proof of that. Failing that, just take into consider its name alone.

And so, in the grand tradition of Gremlins 2: The New Batch and Army Of Darkness (although it did in fact precede both…), we bring you Fright Night Part 2. Doing what every good sequel should, bringing back the original cast in a tale that not only logically follows what came before, but actually adds to it, Part 2 picks up three years after the first movie left off, with Charley undergoing intensive psychiatric treatment to disprove the existence of vampires.

When the sister of Charley’s former nemesis rolls into town, however, out for his blood, it’s time for him to once again team up with Roddy McDowell’s fearless Van Helsing parody Peter Vincent (Peter Cushing and Vincent Price? Why surely yes.) for some serious slaying.

As camp and crazy as the first movie, Fright Night Part 2 is great fun; sexy, scary and spine-tingling, featuring a genuinely great soundtrack by Brad Fiedel and some top notch special effects. A worthy follow-up to a cult monster-piece.

ROCK AND ROLL!!!

Wild Zero
(Tetsuro Takeuchi, 2000)

4 Stars

Oh Japan, how I love thee. Few countries produce such delectably bizarre films as are made in the studios of Japan. Inconceivably insane films such as The Happiness of the Katakuris or indeed any number of tentacle-based hentai have given rise to the Nipponese infamy for the down right weird.

And this little treat does nothing less than endorse this stereotype. A zom-rom-com featuring aliens, transsexuals and garage punk, Wild Zero is a truly rare find, and I must whole-heartedly thank one of my colleagues up in TokyoLand for the recommendation.

The movie starts with a Corman-esque alien invasion that brings back to gory life the recently departed. Meanwhile rock star wannabe Ace is busy bumbling about, accidentally saving his hero, punk guitarist Guitar Wolf, from his arch nemesis; evil record producer The Captain, a man who spends the vast majority of the movie in a rather disturbing pair of hot pants..

What follows the gloriously hectic opening sequence is a full ninety minutes of fun, chaos, and, most importantly Rock and Roll, as Ace finds himself fighting off zombies, combing his hair, and falling passionately in love with a girl who is actually a guy.

Along the way, we have one of the best Psycho parodies to date, in which a buxom young lovely is interrupted mid-shower by a hoard of zombies, resulting in a delightful naked gun fight (exactly where she was hiding the gun, I’m not entirely sure, though utterly intrigued…), as well as one of the coolest pieces of weaponry to grace our screens; a samurai sword concealed in the neck of Guitar Wolf’s electric guitar.

With heads exploding at a bi-minutely rate, copious screamings of “ROCK AND ROOOOOOOOOOOOOLL!!!”, and more explosions than the entire Michael Bay back-catalogue, Wild Zero is an utterly enthralling piece of nonsensical genius; funny, gory and indeterminably cool. A masterpiece of the bizarre.

Love Thy Robot

Deadly Friend
(Wes Craven, 1986)

2.5 Stars

Wes Craven is something of a cult figure in the horror genre; the man who brought us such classics as The Last House on the Left, The Hills Have Eyes and A Nightmare on Elm Street, before ultimately redefining the genre itself in 1996’s Scream.

Of course, not every film from a great director can be a masterpiece (as Tim Burton rudely pointed out earlier this week), and today I ventured into one of his lesser known movies, Deadly Friend; a tale of love, loss and robotic zombies.

Deadly Friend tells the tale of a young mechanical genius (Matthew Laborteaux) who endeavours to bring back to life his lovely young lady friend (the ever delightful Kristy “Buffy before Sarah Michelle Gellar” Swanson), only to find he has created a devilish android creature, hell-bent on reaping revenge on those who wronged her in life. Amongst her unfortunate victims is crotchety neighbour Elvira (the late Anne Ramsey – The Goonies, Throw Momma From The Train) whose death by basketball is the highlight of the movie.

Critics have often slated this as Craven’s worst movie, and yet, although it is no Scream by any means, there is fun to be had. Especially if you enjoy wonderfully naff eighties horror movies. Oh, and prepare for the inevitable “shock” ending. You won’t see it coming a mile off. No, really, you won’t. Okay, you totally will.

Finally, A Superhero Who Lives Up To His Name

Kick-Ass
(Matthew Vaughn, 2010)

4.5 Stars

The superhero has become something of a cliché these days, with origin stories of the likes of Spiderman, Iron Man, Batman Begins et al, cluttering our screens on a pretty much monthly basis. And what with The Avengers lined up for a few years time, Marvel Studios are set to churn out plenty more mediocre hero flicks over the next couple of summers. Even an avid comic fan such as my self is beginning to tire of it all.

As such, it’s a refreshing change of pace to see Mark Millar’s anti-hero Kick-Ass canon-balling his ultraviolent ways into our hearts.

We’ve all dreamed of being a superhero. One of the basic questions of late night pub fayre is the age-old “if you could have any super power, what would it be?”. In Kick-Ass, legendary comic book writer Millar poses the question “what if a super hero was just a kid with high hopes and pep?”. And the answer? A truly kick-ass creation is what.

Kick-Ass tells the story of Dave Lizewski, an average teenage nerd (played with aplomb by delightful young English actor Aaron Johnson) who dons a spandex suit and decides to fight crime, only to find himself way over his head as he becomes embroiled in a war between an evil drug baron and likewise anti-heroes Big Daddy (a wonderfully gung-ho Nic Cage – Con Air, The Wicker Man) and his larger than life daughter Mindy (Chloe Moretz – My Friends Tigger and Pooh). Moretz’s performance has caused some uproar in the “standards of decency” crowd, what with having an eleven year old girl swearing her boots off and slicing up gangsters like nobody’s business, but quite frankly, it’s one of the finest child actress performances I’ve seen in a very long time. Moretz steals the entire movie with her embodiment of “Hit Girl”, and is set for a fine career in the future.

What makes Kick-Ass truly outstanding though is its tongue-in-cheek humour coupled with its ultraviolent choreography. Akin to some B-Movie masterpieces of Japanese theatre, Kick-Ass relishes in its own absurdity; a super-hero movie that accepts itself for what it is, rather than trying so very hard to a serious piece of film-making as so many of these stories tend to do.

With some wonderful little cameos from some great British actors; Jason Fleyming and Dexter Fletcher to name but two, and a perfectly suited soundtrack, Kick-Ass is an action movie to redefine the entire genre. Marvel Studios, accept defeat; your ass has well and truly been kicked.

Chaos Reigns

Antichrist
(Lars Von Trier, 2009)

3.5 Stars

Words do not come easily when it comes to infamous director Lars Von Trier’s latest offering, the award winning and highly controversial Antichrist. Indeed, having endured its full two hours of psychological and graphically violent meandering, I realise that I’ve watched something quite special, but am entirely unsure whether or not I actually enjoyed it.

Illustrating in four chapters a couple, known only as He and She as they cope with the death of their only child, Antichrist shows with nauseating detail how very wrong things can go when an already unstable woman, obsessed with the concept of evil in the female psyche, is taken off her meds and “looked after” by her well meaning psychiatrist husband.

Willem Dafoe (Platoon, Mississippi Burning) plays with touching naivety the well meaning husband who is inordinately sucked into his wife’s insanity. Charlotte Gainsbourg, star of many a French indie movie, is both disturbing and entrancing as She, pulling in both Dafoe and the audience to her utter desperation and ultimate madness.

The opening scene of Antichrist is perhaps one of the most powerful prologue sequences I have seen in some time, with the couple’s child falling to his death whilst his oblivious parents make love in the next room. The rather gratuitous addition of Dafoe’s todger somehow adds an even more disturbing element to proceedings. The ensuing film, though punctuated by a lot of psycho-babble that at times was incomprehensible, is both beautifully shot and compassionately acted.

As She succumbs further and further to her insanity, and the forces of nature appear to stack against them, the torture inflicted on her husband seems not only illogical, but also somehow utterly believable. In his two characters, Von Trier seems to have created a pair of sickeningly original portrayals of the human psyche; sexual, violent and inevitably self-destructive.

Antichrist is certainly not to everyone’s taste, and at times it is extremely difficult to watch (the wife’s self mutilation scene being one of the most horrific displays of cinematic violence I think I’ve ever seen). And yet upon contemplation, I feel that this really was a film worth watching, and one that has left me with something. Exactly what the “something” is, I’m not quite sure… I’ll let you know if I work it out…

"Wonder"ing What Went Wrong

Alice in Wonderland

(Tim Burton, 2010)

2 Stars

Once upon a time, a young man with great vision and a twisted imagination brought to the screen some of the most wonderful fairytales of the twentieth century; the dark realms of BeetleJuice, Edward Scissorhands and Ed Wood. A man who would make his mark in cinema history as one of the greatest cult directors of all time. That man was Mr Tim Burton.

I’ve always considered myself a great fan of Burton’s work, and upon hearing that he was to take on one of my favourite pieces of literature, the deliciously wicked and subtly macabre Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, my heart bubbled with anticipation. I decided to forget Burton’s recent errors; the lack lustre Charlie and the Chocolate Factory… The poor showing that was Sweeney Todd… And let's not even mention that monkey-based remake... I figured, everyone makes mistakes, and surely with his gothic airs, Burton would create a Wonderland that would truly capture Lewis Carroll’s perverse, opium addled world.

And so, having waited so very long, counting down the days no less, to see what one of my directorial heroes would do with one of my favourite books, I trekked to Kudamatsu cinema for what I was sure would be just my cup of tea.

But oh. Oh no. Tim, what the hell have you done? From the moment Alice (played with a woodeness akin to an antique ottoman by Australian actress Mia Wasikowska) falls down the infamous rabbit hole, I found myself utterly under-whelmed by Burton’s depiction of the newly named “Under”-land. It seems that not only has Burton dispensed with his trademark quirkiness, he’s also lost the ability to find a decent scriptwriter.

Let’s start with the story shall we? Well, what can I say? Remember Alice’s innocent wanderings through Wonderland and the Looking Glass Garden? Well, it seems that Burton doesn’t. Gone are the charming yet disturbing adventures of Alice and what she found there, only to be replaced by some atrocious blend of Tolkein, Pullman and CS Lewis; a completely overused and stale yarn of good versus evil, or indeed red versus white, culminating in a lack lustre dragon slaying. The lead-up to the battle is nonsensical and unexplained, leaving not only myself, but the young daughters of a friend of mine not only confused, but totally disinterested in the hypocritical outcome of the battle. Every element of wit and pun is discarded in Linda Woolverton's sub-standard script, stripping Carroll's stories to little more than an occasional nod.

And so to the cast. At first glance, Alice is an inspired collaboration of actors, each seemingly playing parts that they were born to play. Alas, with no depth, development, or indeed characterisation beyong their namesake, each one falls flat at the first hurdle. Burton staple Johnny Depp (Pirates of the Caribbean, Edward Scissorhands, etc) goes through the motions as the Mad Hatter, and at times is actually more annoying than anything, whilst fellow Burton-ite Helena Bonham Carter (Howard’s End, Sweeney Todd) does little more than an impression of Miranda Richardson’s Elizabeth II as the Red Queen. The fourth and final of the “star” roles is that of Anne Hathaway’s (The Princess Diaries, Ella Enchanted) White Queen, who in all four of her scenes manages to do nothing else but wave her hands around florally. The one saviour of the live action cast is the ever under-rated Crispin Glover (Willard, Back to the Future), who is as unnerving and neurotic as ever as the dastardly Knave of Hearts, who seems to have come a long way since stealing those tarts.

Visuals are where Burton traditionally excels, and, to give him his dues, Alice is quite stunning to watch. The CGI set is beautifully rendered, and the computer generated animals of “Under”land are pretty darn good. Alan Rickman (Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, Harry Potter) could have been amazing as the Caterpillar (or “Absolem” as Burton has ridiculously decided he should be known), but is given a trite few Yoda-esque crypicisms to spit out, whilst Barbara Windsor (Eastenders, Carry On…) is simply irritating as the Dormouse, who has likewise been bestowed with some stupid name.

There are two saviours in the CGI cast however; Matt Lucas (Little Britain, Shooting Stars) is a joy to watch as Tweedledum and Tweedledee, though like so many of the other inhabitants of Wonderland, is just too nice. National treasure Stephen Fry is simply delicious as the Cheshire Cat, though is let down by the cat’s cloying cuteness; a trait that both circulates through and undermines the entire venture.

Alice in Wonderland is, disappointingly, the perfect example of all show and no know; a collection of stunning visuals with no plot, characterisation, or depth to actually give it worth. Had this been an art exhibition, or perhaps just a series of portraits, it could have been one of Burton’s finest creations. Unfortunately Tim, you’re meant to be a film director. And one of my favourites at that. After this shocking display of utter nonsense however, I’m starting to question whether you were actually that good to start with. I had high hopes for this one, and you’ve shattered them Burton. I’ve lost my faith entirely. Stale remakes and rehashes for over a decade now. And what’s next? The Addams Family set for 2014, undoubtedly with Depp as Gomez. Bloody hell man, you’ve really lost it.

Sisterhood of Meh...

Sorority Row
(Stewart Hendler, 2009)

1.5 Stars

Teen slasher movies have always been something of a guilty pleasure of mine. I don’t know what it is, but seeing utterly clueless, poorly characterised American teenagers running hopelessly from some generic, unoriginal killer with some poorly contrived motive has an element of surreal charm. Of course occasionally, the hours of trawling through trite pays off, resulting in that rare classic such as Wes Craven’s superb shock-fest Scream.

Unfortunately, despite being billed as “the best horror film since” the aforementioned classic, Stewart Hendler’s overhyped Sorority Row really doesn’t push many buttons.

With a highly formulaic plot; prank goes wrong, girl ends up dead, murders ensue, and a cast of unknowns who couldn’t act their way out of a Stephen Schwartz showcase, Sorority Row is a true outing in mediocrity in the teen slasher genre.

Normally at this point in proceedings, I’d single out some of the better performances. Alas, not one character stands out amidst the group of breast on legs clearly chosen not for their acting ability, but for their talent for tantalising horny teenage moviegoers.

One thing that Sorority Row does have going for it, however, is some delightfully fun deaths. You can see each one coming from a mile off, but there’s some schadenfreude to be had nonetheless.

Sorority Row is by no means a classic of the genre… Indeed it’s by no means a classic in bad movie making. It’s just another generic and unoriginal remake of a cult horror that will disappear rapidly into the ether of late-night Channel Five viewing. Ho hum.

The Death of The Dream

Captain America
(Ed Brubaker, 2007)

4 Stars

I must admit, I’ve never before read any Captain America comics. An avid reader of Marvel, I’ve been concentrating my efforts over the last few years in X-Men and the wonderfully under-rated Runaways. The exploits of Steve Rogers, however, always seemed a little too… well… American.

But then, a few years back, two things happened within the pages of Captain America that would shake up the Marvel universe forever; the return of the prodigal Bucky and the death of the patriotic icon that has, for over sixty years, stood as the epitome of the Land of the Free.

Ed Brubaker’s run on Captain America, collected here in a beautifully illustrated omnibus edition, kicks off with the rather shocking death of Cap’s long time arch-nemesis, the Nazi terrorist the Red Skull. The ensuing murder mystery finds Steve Rogers hunting down the Skull’s killer, only to come face to face with his long lost partner Bucky Barnes, now working as the KGB’s “Winter Soldier”.

There is a long-standing edict amongst comic book readers; “No-one stays dead except Bucky and Uncle Ben”. Over the years, this has been proved time and time again, with the returns of apparently deceased heroes cropping up on a regular basis… Colossus, Professor X, Kitty Pryde… And who can count how many times Jean Grey has risen from the grave? But Bucky had managed to rest peacefully for over five decades before anyone realised that we never actually saw him die.

And so cue Ed Brubaker, the man who re-invented Catwoman and put in some decent graft on Batman. His three year run on Captain America not only brought back Bucky in an entirely conceivable and logical story arc, but also saw the deaths and returns of some of the Cap’s closest friends and worst enemies… Somewhat of a “greatest hits” series to lead up to its shocking conclusion.

Brubaker’s exquisitely crafted tale is both tense and intoxicating, thrusting the reader through a genuinely “cap”-tivating tale of intrigue and betrayal that with magnificent justice brings to an end the life of a real American hero.

With some breathtaking artwork by Steve Epting and Mike Perkins, The Captain America Omnibus is a must read for any comic book fanatic, though be warned; come the final few frames, you will find yourself itching for more. Fortunately for my bank account, book postage is so very extortionate to Japan that I find myself having to wait until my return to the West to indulge my cravings. Of course by then, judging by Marvel history, I shan’t be the only one to have returned…

The Rise and Fall of the Babylonian Empire

Hotel Babylon
Season 4
2 Stars

There’s something to be said of five star accommodation. Whether it be that of a hotel or that of a television series, one finds comfort and solitude in one’s visits, expecting that very same quality with each and every visit.

When it first hit our screens back in 2006, Hotel Babylon sparkled with high class exuberance; a televisual treat that week in, week out, delivered some of the best drama that had hit our screens in a long time. Spearheaded by a top-notch cast; the ever great Max Beesley, Eastenders’ gorgeous Tamsin Outhwaite and erm… Games Master’s Dexter Fletcher, Hotel Babylon exposed the dark and gritty backdrop that forms the foundation of the glitzy world of five star fortune.

Having been working in a hotel, and indeed having read the original novel by Imogen Edwards-Jones not long before the pilot episode, I was delighted by the screen portrayal of the larger than life characters of the eponymous hotel, and for the first three seasons remained utterly delighted by their antics. Indeed, were I to review the first or second season of the show, I would give it the much coveted five stars it deserves. Unfortunately, the Hotel Babylon I have been watching this week is not the very same that I fell in love with.

By the end of season three, cracks began to form in the perfect interior of Babylon; having run out of stories taken from Edwards-Jones’ original book, the writers also seemed to have dried up on the ideas front. And so, like rats from a sinking ship, our much-loved characters began to flee; Outhwaite had already bowed out graciously at the end of season two, but following suit Beesley jumped ship halfway through season three, along with the breath-taking Head of Housekeeping Natalie Mendoza (The Descent). Soon followed, rather inexplicably, Lee Williams (Beesley’s replacement) and the long-standing Head Receptionist Anna Thornton-Wilton (Emma Pierson - The Worst Week of my Life, Charles II: The Power and The Passion).

So where does that leave us? Season four begins with newcomers Nigel Harman (another former Eastender) and on-screen wife Anna Wilson-Jones (Monarch of the Glen, Afterlife) taking over Babylon. Unfortunately, these new managers are not only utterly dull, but they just don’t fit in with the rest of the Babylon staff. As such, it is down to the only remaining original characters, sommelier James (Raymond Coulthard – Castles, Casualty), head barman Gino (Martin Marquez – The Bill) and newly appointed head receptionist Ben (Michael Obiora – Doctor Who) to take the reigns. Unfortunately, whilst these fine gents have supplied comic relief for the past few years, they are unable to carry the show, and at times the once gritty and dark world of Babylon becomes nothing more than high farce.

Dexter Fletcher meanwhile does his best to maintain some degree of class as Tony the concierge, but unfortunately the writers seem to have forgotten just how good an actor Fletcher is, and burden him with some simply daft story lines, a “Prince and the Pauper” esque episode standing out as one of the worst in the series.

It’s a real shame to see the downfall of Babylon, and sitting here now re-watching the first season, I can truly see why both viewers and actors fled during the show’s final days. From its glory days, the hotel got hit hard by the recession. It’s just a shame this one shan’t be coming back from the BBC’s graveyard of cancellation to rekindle the flame that once burned bright.

Life is a Mystery...

Glee:

The Power of Madonna
4.5 Stars

It’s not often that I feel obliged to write a review of a specific episode of a series (the pilot of the new Doctor Who withstanding), but after doubts I had last week over the new demi-season of the cult hit Glee, I felt that I had to sing out my praises at this weeks expedition into sheer joy.

I will, however, be careful to issue my first ever

*SPOILER ALERT*

simply because I have no idea where in the series you chaps way out West are at the moment. But anyways.

So, last week we kicked off with yet another Finn and Rachel heavy drone-fest, with some obvious choices in the “Hello” themed episode and little to no real progression in the story, save for making Shue out to be an utter douche by copping off with Idina Menzel only moments after getting together with the lovely Miss Pilsbury, and our impressionable principal sharing a night of despicable passion with the terrifying Coach Sylvester.

But that was last week. And tepidly, I tuned into this week’s outing, only to be confronted with the rather yawn-worthy revelation that this would be a Madonna special. Sigh. And indeed sigh I did for the first twenty minutes or so of generic whiny Rachel, dull-as-muck Finn banter.

And then a surprise. A true moment of Glee brilliance, reminding me why this show isn’t more aptly titled Twee. Coach Sylvester performing a beautifully shot and wonderfully choreographed “Vogue”. I literally grinned like a Cheshire Cat for the full black and white number. Following this, a moment I’ve been waiting for for a very, very long time; some of our wonderful supporting characters to finally take the spot light. And fortunately for me, twas two of my favourite Gleeks; the openly out Kurt (played with a tender beauty by real life homosexual Chris Colfer) and big black momma Mercedes (the delightful Amber Riley) performing the recent hit “Four Minutes”.

Meanwhile, elsewhere, we have three of our Glee couples all about to lose their virginity in a brilliantly arranged “Like a Virgin”, culminating in some really touching moments as our stars each realise just what there are getting themselves into and how very unprepared they are. The ensemble of boys following this up with a lovely a capella rendition of “What it Feels Like For a Girl” was a wonderful little touch.

This week’s Glee has done exactly what last week’s should have done, and yet tragically failed to; propelled this new demi-season forward with much aplomb, bringing to the front lines the always spot-on supporting characters (though I still feel sorry for the two football players… I don’t even recall their names “black guy” and “other Asian” as Sylvester refers to them. I don’t believe I’ve actually heard either one speak yet), and turfing out some truly memorable musical performances, none so more than this episode’s finale of “Like a Prayer”, which quite frankly gave me a couple of much needed shivers.

Glee, you’re back on form, in fine tune, and set for a great season. Keep hitting those high notes!

Springtime for KitKats and Nestle

This month’s KitKat collective comes from the far corners of Japan, ranging from little ol’ Yanai to the bright lights of Tokyo. Alas, no Soy Sauce flavour could be found, but there are a few delights nonetheless. Usual four-finger rating applies.

Strawberry Milk KitKat – 3 Fingers

The first of our Tokyo specials is this tasty little chap, featuring a delightfully cute teddy bear on the wrapper. Strawberry KitKats seem to be something of a commonplace round these parts; indeed, I think this is the fourth different strawberry variety I’ve come across, and is certainly the best. Sweet but not saccharine, this one really does taste like strawberry milkshake. Yum.

Sweet Potato KitKat – 1.5 Fingers

Another Tokyo venture is one that I came across first not long after I arrived in Japan. I must admit however, that despite the lovely gift box I received for my birthday, it’s not one I’m a fan of. I mean, let’s face it; it’s a potato flavour KitKat. Definitely one to pass off on others…

Mix Fruit Smoothie KitKat – 3.5 Fingers

This is one I’m really quite keen on actually, mostly because it delivers exactly what it says on the packet; fruity and tasty, with a scrumptious mix of peach, banana and strawberry, this one really brings back the taste of juice bars back home.

KitKat Cookie Plus – 3 Fingers

Exactly what the “plus” is, I’m not quite sure, but this is a really good little number. Rather than the usual wafer filling, we have a shortcake interior that is simply fabulous. Unfortunately, these ones are even smaller than the already downsized regular KitKats, and such really leave you wanting more. A shame really, especially since they only come in packs of six.

Cynicism and Sakura (or, Why Sakura Kind of Sucks)

I’ve been in Japan for just under nine months now. It’s a land of bizarre traditions and breathtaking landscape. Well, breathtaking save for the ridiculous amount of overhead power cables that emit their perpetual buzz all over the countryside. A small but ever-present little detail that the tourist board has managed to airbrush out of every picture that leaves the country. But landscape and tradition, though great inspiration for my forthcoming time-travelling murder-mystery novel, Under the Willow Umbrella (title tentative; previews available by request), are not why we’re here today. No, today is a subject much more fragrant; the world-famous Sakura, or Japanese Cherry Blossom.

Japan is beautiful in the spring. Everyone knows it. But, being submerged in rural Asia amidst the spring that has now passed, I must admit to being somewhat under whelmed. Having seen the pictures, and listened to my various students harking on about the wonders of the Sakura bloom for the last few months, I knew that nothing less than sheer amazement would leave me disappointed.

And so, watching the candy-floss like trees appear from nowhere amongst the local woodlands, and along the river banks, I was a little impressed. They are simply everywhere. Every skeleton of timber that had beforehand gone unnoticed across the countryside suddenly blossomed into bright pink glory. Like daffodils in the UK, Sakura trees are simply everywhere. Unlike daffodils, however, the Sakuras have lasted the course of just one week. A complete anticlimax to the plethora of cherry blossom-themed crap (kitkats, coffees, hats…) and multitude of “hanami” (sakura watching parties… I mean really???) that have led up to this stupidly brief stint of flora. With the slightest gust of wind, the petals have shed, and now, like confetti strewn at an over-indulgent wedding, lay uselessly upon the ground.

There are things I love about Japan… Its wildlife, its temples, karaoke bars. And then there are things I hate… The lack of cheese, the racism I endured last weekend… Unfortunately, the Nippon obsession with cherry blossoms falls into the latter category. Like Indiana Jones 4, Sakura season had such hope, such promise, that it was let down entirely by the final cut.

But then again, how much could I actually expect from a ruddy flower…?

A Royal Gem

The Uncommon Reader
(Alan Bennett, 1997)

4 Stars

I’ve always had something of a soft spot for Alan Bennett. And let’s face it, who doesn’t? His softly spoken platitudes of British life, told in enrapturing little titbits that quite frankly feel like sitting down by the fire in the most comfortable of arm chairs, with a blanket over one's knees and a mug of milky tea and a hobnob. It’s just good old fashioned loveliness eloquated by a delightful old chap who sounds like he could well be best mates with your granddad.

Some of my fondest memories of my university days are of setting popular television series to the inimitable style of Mr. Bennett… Indeed, there’s nothing quite so appealing as the foul-mouthed Deadwood performed in delightfully lucid northern tones.

And so to the all too short novella The Uncommon Reader. Within its one hundred and twenty pages, The Uncommon Reader tells the story of our beloved monarch falling afoul of an addiction to reading, thus forgetting many of her royal duties and finding herself questioning the true essence of her existence. The story is told in such a believable fashion that one not only finds oneself questioning the state of the country should the Queen actually succumb to the all-powerful force of literature, but also our own futility when it comes to “getting lost in a good book”.

Witty and thought-provoking as ever, Bennett takes us on a whirlwind crash-course in the written word and into a world of closed doors behind which we, the general public, rarely tread. Its final few pages are both touching and hilarious, and leave the reader with so very much to ponder upon.

The Uncommon Reader is a wonderful little gem of a read, and I would urge you to read it with all my heart. But take care, fair reader, lest you, like our royal heroine, should find yourself falling under literature’s intoxicating spell.

A Taste Of Home

Molly Malone’s
Hiroshima City

I love Japan. I’ll start off with that little titbit. Its delightful tweeness, obsessive compulsion and bizarre yet somehow endearing traditions all make it a really quite enchanting place to live. And despite probably boring the hell out of my lovely young comrade and guide Manami this weekend with my platitudes of Merry England, I really am warming to the ways of the East.

And yet, any seasoned traveller knows that after any length of time away from the motherland, one does find oneself longing for the comforts of home. So, after stocking up on the basics (cheese, chocolate and taco shells) at Hiroshima’s treasure trove of foreign delicacies, Jupiter (see my previous Hiroshima entry for more details), Manami and I sought out the Gaijin Mecca that is Molly Malone’s Irish Pub.

Despite some good recommendations from other Westerners, I had my reservations about Malone’s; having had some bad runs with “British pubs” such as the Hub in Tokyo, and some others in Fukuoka, all of which were pale imitations serving Japanese fusion food, I was uncertain as to what to expect from Hiroshima’s offering.

Any initial reservations were cast aside however as we entered the pub to the creaky tones of The Boomtown Rats’ “I Don’t Like Mondays” blasting out of the stereo system. Walking into Malone’s I was instantly transported 10,000 miles home; an authentic interior (made up of furnishings shipped over from the Emerald Isle itself) is complimented by that wonderfully homely “pub smell” that only the real McCoy can achieve. The fact that of the thirty or so patrons, Manami was the only Asian, was also curiously reassuring.

Settling down with a much longed for Magners on ice, we were presented with a menu of some real pub classics; steak and ale pie, taverner’s chicken, and, being Sunday, the mandatory roast dinner. After a salivating ten minutes or so, I finally decided upon my old favourite bangers and mash (though somewhat tentatively, as sausages in Japan by definition alone suck), along with a side of homemade soda bread and some garlic ciabatta. Manami, alas not all too adventurous in her ventures into British cuisine (although, to be fair she did wolf down my homemade “British” classic Spag Bol with much aplomb) chose the stonebaked pizza and a vegetable salad.

The following thirty minutes were sheer gut-busting glory. Having missed hearty home-style cooking so very much recently, I was blown away by the authenticity that the chefs at Malone’s managed to create in what is essentially the complete opposite end of the Earth. The bangers and mash were exquisite; real pork and leek sausages with creamy mash and homemade gravy; the soda bread was beautifully stodgy, and even the pizza had that deliciously greasy publiness that the Asian excuses for pizzas really lack. Topped of with more Magners, I was fit to burst.

But of course, with a pudding menu consisting of such lovingly crafted delights as apple crumble and bread and butter pudding, there was no way I was giving up just yet. We decided after much deliberation on the Bailey’s cheesecake, one of my old favourites, and with painful delectation devoured every delicious morsel.

Molly Malone’s truly is a home away from home for the Gaijin community in Hiroshima, painstakingly researched and crafted to give the best British dining experience you are likely to find in Japan. Nothing Japanese on the menu, and with fluent English staff, you really do feel like you’ve stepped off the streets of Hiroshima right back to the motherland. Kudos to the creators; Malone’s is the perfect remedy for even the worse bout of homesickness.

To Hell with the raggedy; time to put on a show

Doctor Who: The Eleventh Hour

4 Stars

I’m going to begin with a nugget of information to ruffle some feathers; I never really warmed to David Tennant. Admittedly, he’s the man that re-branded the Doctor, bringing him to a new generation with much aplomb, and for many he will remain the Doctor with whom they will always associate. But for me, despite his snappy attire and stalwart longevity, he just wasn’t the Doctor. And after that all too brief excursion with Ecclestone’s manic yet childlike persona, he was something of a let down.

And so, with rapt anticipation after New Year’s excellently executed (if perhaps just a tad drawn-out) goodbye from Mr. Tenant, we finally greet Matt Smith, the Eleventh Doctor. And what do we think kiddies? Well, I’ll tell you what I think (as I am so inclined to do so round these parts); wow.

Season “five” of Doctor Who pulls out all the stops; new producer, new theme tune, new title sequence, new assistant, new TARDIS, and of course, new face. Shedding everything that has made the show Tenant for the last five years, Stephen Moffat and his shiny new team have truly thrust us into a brave new world for the Doctor.

Episode one immediately throws us into the brink of things, with the regenerating TARDIS crash-landing in Nebworth, only to discover a breach in the time-space continuum located in the bedroom of a young girl by the name of Amelia Pond. Promising to return in five minutes, the Doctor’s somewhat fried time circuits catapult him twelve years into the future to find an escaped intergalactic criminal and an embittered Emily, now going by Amy. With only twenty minutes to save the world, the Doctor and his new companion race to find the escapee and stop the galactic police force from destroying the planet in order to put an end to Prisoner Zero.

The story’s a good’un, but let’s face it, at this stage in the game, we really don’t care… It’s all a question of “is he filling Tenant’s Converses?” The answer? Yes, and quite simply tearing them apart at their seams. Matt Smith (Party Animals) gives us an entirely fresh take on the Doctor, cheeky, bubbly, and just all round likeable. His warning off of the invading army has none of Tenant’s perpetual anger, and quite honestly, gives it all the more credibility. Rather than yet another “I’m the Doctor, Rarr, Rarr, grumble, grr…”, Smith delivers in a calm and collected menace that Tenant never really managed to pull off.

Delightfully unknown Karen Gillan throws convention aside as she steps into her assistant’s shoes. Without the baggage of predecessors Billie Piper and Catherine Tate, Gillan has the opportunity to really make her own mark in the Who-niverse, much as Freema Agyeman did in her portrayal of Martha Jones, so far the finest assistant of this run of the show (not counting The Cribbins of course). Sure, it will take time for some fans to warm to her, but I feel she will be a companion to remember.

So, Mr. Smith, I salute you. With Moffat behind you, I have a feeling you will go far; not only in time and space, but also in our hearts…

Was that a little cheesy? I think maybe it was… Oh well.

Tarquin's Comedy Heroes

Well hello fair viewers. After a brief absence, I’m back with a vengeance; your mustalid tour guide of television past and present. So, this week, to get myself out of my misery, I have been contemplating those folk who never fail to make us laugh. Buckle up kiddies, it’s time for Tarquin’s comedy legends!


10. Mork From Ork (Mork and Mindy/Happy Days)

In at number ten is an old classic. The role that made Robin Williams’ career remains to this day some of his finest work. Before he got complacent and old, Williams brought to hyper-active life the child-minded Mork, exploding onto the screen with his crazy misadventures.


9. Reginald the Koala (American Dad!)

Family Guy creator Seth MacFarlen has given us som of the greatest comedy moments of the last few years, and through some truly fine characters. But for me, the pinnacle has to be the “cute as a button” hobo-turned-koala-turned-FBI operative Reginald. Smooth-talking and smart-mouthed, Reginald is a cameo role that leaves you longing for more.

8. Sir Digby Chicken Caesar (That Mitchell and Webb Look)

An alcoholic tramp convinced he is a Victorian detective, sworn to save the world from the clutches of his Nemesis, Sir Digby is the highlight of the delightful That Mitchell and Webb Look. Partnered with the equally inebriated Ginger, Sir Digby is a true gentleman thief.

7. Judge Fudge (Drawn Together/The Judge Fudge Power Hour)

What could be more appealing than a 70s crime fighting judge, made entirely of fudge? Whether tempted by a bevy of busty black booty, or staking out some drug ring, the Judge is always happy to help, unless of course he’s too busy… Being delicious.

6. Stouffer (The Harry Hill Show)

It’s often puzzled me exactly where Harry Hill found the blue plastic cat puppet that would soon after become Hill’s hilarious partner in crime (“that’s right Stouffer, you help”). With his allegedly psychic abilities, and nine lives spanning history, Stouffer has unfortunately somewhat retired since Hill’s move to ITV, but hopefully he shall continue to star in Hill’s annual stage shows.

5. Bob Bobertson (The Everyday Happenings of Wobbl and Bob)

Having starred alongside his inimitable best friend Weebl in many an internet cartoon, the hard done by young genius Bob Bobertson soon found himself on MTV’s Wobbl and Bob (“Weebl” obviously being a trademark of the Fisher Price corporation). With his handy tips on life, and an addiction to pie, Bob continues his legacy at Weebls-stuff.com, so check it out.

4. Salem Saberhagen (Sabrina the Teenage Witch)

“Thank god it’s Fridya!” – a phrase that punctuated my teenage years. Salem is a true work of brilliance; from his early days as a glorified sock puppet, to his later incarnation as a fully animatronic cat, world-wanting warlock turned four-legged feline Salem Saberhagen was brought to life by the hilarious Nick Bakay and truly made the otherwise often rather lame Sabrina worth watching. Especially past season 4.


3. Douglas Reynholme (The IT Crowd)

Once again Matt Berry’s name graces the pages of Silver Screen Lining, this time as the boss… Indeed your boss at The IT Crowd’s Reynholme Industries. Sex crazed and completely oblivious to the world around him, Douglas replaced his father Denholme (Chris Morris) at the beginning of season two, bringing a fresh and classical Berry flavour to what is possibly the finest sitcom of British TV right now.

2. Bernard Black (Black Books)

Graham Lineham has, over the past decade or so, created some of the finest comedy to hit the UK screens; Father Ted, The IT Crowd, and of course, the intoxicating Black Books, starring the inimitable Dylan Moran as alcoholic, chain-smoking book vendor Bernard Black. With his short temper and morose outlook on life, Bernard remains to this day a real inspiration for this embittered critic. Unfortunately my hard done by associate is now 10,000 miles away, so this Bernard is very much in need of a new Manny.

1. Dean Learner (Garth Merenghi’s Dark Place/Man to Man with Dean Learner)

Club owner, restauranteur and publisher of high class gentlemen’s magazines, Dean Learner, though not an actor, is an inspiration to modern man. Sharp-suited and cigar smoking, Dean brings class to any establishment, for what says class better than dimmer switches, ankle bracelets and wet wipes. What? You don’t do wet wipes? The fuck you don’t do wet wipes. Benders.

Thy Kingdom Come

Kingdom Hospital
2004

4 Stars

Back in 2004 (a time that seems so very long ago, and yet frightening to contemplate upon), renowned horror writer Stephen King embarked upon a grand venture to create the first “novel for television”. A very brave endeavour indeed, attempting to bring the feel of a book to the television screen, without it being based on a novel beforehand. A collection of core characters, along with those that begin in perhaps only one scene in the first few episodes, only to prove of vital significance later on in the story, with storylines interweaving and intertwining, culminating in one final outcome. In his writing, King has pioneered some of the greatest tales of horror and suspense of the last thirty years, and in every one weaves together interlocking story arcs like a literary seamstress. Kingdom Hospital is no different, and watching it now, one can truly appreciate King’s talent.

Based on Lars Von Trier’s (Dear Wendy, Antichrist) groundbreaking series Riget (which I shall be watching and reviewing soon), Kingdom Hospital revolves around the bizarre goings on at a state of the art New England medical facility, a place where phantom ambulances haunt the parking lot and the restless dead cause the earth to move.

The main story arc revolves around a young ghost girl named Mary (played with just the right balance of annoyingness and cuteness by Jodelle Ferland), whose spirit channels the comatose body of artist Peter Rickman (Jack Coleman) and psychic Sally Druse (Diane Ladd). Caught up in the plight of young Mary is maverick doctor Hook (an excellent performance by Andrew McCarthy), whose relationship between the patients and staff of the hospital drives the narrative.

Meanwhile, Bruce Davison gives a sterling show as Dr. Stegman, a surgeon who desperately tries to hide his gross incompetence in causing the vegetative state of a ten year old girl. His gradual decline into insanity at the hands of both the ghosts of Kingdom Hospital and the delightful downs-syndrome dishwashers Abel and Christa is simply a delight to watch, and a really quite impressive performance.

To list every character and every storyline in all their merits would be impossible, as King does what he does better than any other writer working today in creating a veritable chorus of everyday folk in all their foibles; a young doctor obsessed with a colleague twice his age; a hilarious German orderly; a neurotic British seismologist; a possessed serial killer; a giant CGI anteater, along with many others all coming together to make a real hospital community.

The story is excellent, and the acting spot on, coupled with a wonderfully atmospheric soundtrack and a sepia tinge that make for a top-notch eight hours of television.

So why only four stars? Well, anyone who is well-versed in King’s work will most likely be aware of his inability to pull off a good ending to anything with a particularly supernatural overture. In IT, we have the most bizarre and unbelievable finale, and the end of Desperation is just silly, just to name two. Unfortunately Kingdom Hospital is no different, and after watching the entire series, one does feel that the ending is something of a cop-out. I won’t give anything away, lest anyone feels so inclined as to go and watch it, but King’s resolution to the overall story jut feels too simple, and yet too silly to justify the events before it.

That said, Kingdom Hospital is certainly to be rated amongst King’s greatest works, and is well worth a look. I can by no means do it justice in a five hundred word review; there’s simply too much going on. So, please, rent it, YouTube it, or Heaven forbid, go and buy it. And check your soul in at the door.

The International Pancake House

Mickey's Okonomiyaki

Yanai City

It’s funny how sometimes in life the things you are looking for are right in front of your face. After first sampling the delightful Japanese dish okonomiyaki at a party during my first week in Yanai, I have spent many months trying to find a place that serves it, only to discover that the run-down looking shack that I pass by every morning on my way to work is a little family-run okonomiyaki joint. As a wise prophet once said, sometimes people just don’t see past the end of their nose…

Okonomiyaki is a difficult dish to describe; to some, it’s Japan’s answer to pizza, to others, it’s an Asian omelette. Really, it’s akin to neither. Literally meaning “As you like it”, okonomiyaki is a kind of hotchpotch pancake, made up of egg, cabbage, beansprouts, bacon, soba noodles and a healthy dose of barbecue-style sauce and mayonnaise. Two styles are in prevalence, and to show your own preference between Kansai style, in which everything is simply tossed together, and Hiroshima style, where each ingredient is perfectly layered, is to show a real knowledge of Japanese cuisine. With my overriding OCD, naturally I favour the Hiroshima variety.

Mickey’s is a delightful little place; seating around twelve people, and with a friendly staff of mother and daughter, serves a darned good dish. Cooking up the gargantuan meal (I may have accidentally ordered the “family size”, but nonetheless scoffed down every saucy morsel) right in from of you with the kind of care and attention one rarely sees in restaurants in the West. And at the pittance of a price, it’s a place I shall be frequenting on many walks home from now on.