Why I Hate Glee

Back in November, I stumbled across afore-to unheard of in the UK musical drama series Glee. Having never come across it beforehand, I watched the first episode with indifference, a feeling that was replaced with sheer and unbridled delight within moments. For weeks, I was humming songs from the show (Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing” and CCR’s “Proud Mary” being amongst my favourites), and urging my friends to check it out. But did they listen? Did they heck.

And now? Now one can’t even look at Facebook without suffering the slings and arrows of outrageous fandom. It’s like a musical Twilight. “Team Quinn or Team Rachel”. For Christ’s sake.

Glee is an ingenious idea, playing off the success of recent cinematic events such as the High School Musical films, and Mamma Mia (to quote Hugh Jackman “The Musical is back!”). The story in a nutshell revolves around a school glee choir and the misadventures of both the students and the staff thereof. Musical interludes are in abundance, with every show culminating in a performance by the choir that somehow fits in with the theme of the episode. On paper, it’s a fair enough plot, but on screen it works with aplomb.

But it’s not just the music that makes this show great; the performances of the young actors are both intelligent and touching. Chris Colfer as Kurt is, quite frankly, outstanding. The episode in which he comes out to his father is one of the most beautiful pieces of television I’ve seen in a long time. Jenna Ushkowitz as “stuttering” Tina is breathtaking, especially in her performance of “True Colors” (I think I’m developing somewhat of a fetish for Asians singing that song… Disturbing…) and Amber Riley as Aretha-Wannabe Mercedes is a great big ball of black energy.

Unfortunately, these supporting and often show-stealing characters are often overshadowed by the “main” cast; Lea Mitchell as self-obsessed Rachel, Diana Agron as pregnant cheerleader Quinn, and Cory Monteith as Jock Finn… They’re all very good, but, in my humble opinion, there’s little originality in their characterisation. Hopefully when the second half of the series begins shortly, we shall see a little more new material in their personalities.

The adult cast are impeccable though, with Matthew Morrison stealing the show as downcast music teacher Mr. Schue, and Jayma Mays as the wonderfully cutesy Emma Pilsbury. I must admit to a huge “aww” when the finale came round. Jane Lynch also pulls on some big boots as bitchy cheerleading coach Sue Sylvester, the main antagonist of the series. Her interplay with Morrison is simply delightful to watch, with a bitter humour that is rarely seen in saccharine American sitcoms.

Okay, so I lied. I don’t hate Glee. I’m just not a sheep. I’m a gosh-darned shepherd; just no bugger listens to me. That’ll do pig. That’ll do.

Glee
(2009-Present)

4 Stars

Championship Records

High Fidelity
(Stephen Frears, 2000)

5 Stars

Some might say it’s a little unfair to attempt an impartial review of one of my favourite films, based on one of the few books that I’ve read more than twice, but you know what? It’s my blog, and I’ll do what I ruddy like.

Stephen Frears’ tale of love, loss and lyrics, High Fidelity, based on Nick Hornby’s book of the same name, is a eulogy to the modern man. Not the macho, not the successful, but to the downtrodden, the romantic, and most importantly, the Everyman.

In his books, Hornby continuously creates heroes with which the reader can identify with within moments of entering the world of the story. And none so more than the hopeless Rob of High Fidelity. His first person narrative, captured beautifully in the movie’s script, perfectly embodies the neuroses and self-deprecation that, for this writer at least, fill every waking hour of every day. John Cusack’s (Con Air, Serendipity) tender and yet wired performance as Rob gives us a real hero of the modern age, and is perhaps the finest role of his career so far.

And what is a man without his friends? Jack Black (Tenacious D, The School of Rock, etc) as petulant pedant Barry (the part that both made and stole his career) is perfectly cast, and reading the book now, one can only imagine Black in the role, especially in his show-stopping performance of Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get it On”. The oft forgotten Todd Louiso as shy music geek Dick is wonderful, relishing in his introvert nerdiness, reminiscent of the great (and also oft forgotten) Tom Lenk.

Supporting actors not to be forgotten, however, with Iben Hjejle putting in a strong show as Rob’s on/off girlfriend Laura, and Lisa Bonet giving a soul-wrenching rendition of Peter (fucking) Frampton’s “Baby I Love Your Way” as the gorgeous musician and muse Marie de Salle. Tim Robbins as the greasy Ian is a hilarious addition to proceedings. The award however, simply must to go to Mr. Bruce Springsteen for possibly the greatest movie cameo of all time. The use of the 1980 track “The River” (although in the book, Hornby does specify “Thunder Road”…) is also beautiful. Thanks Boss.

Frears and his team, despite moving the tale to America (which strangely works; thus proving the universal nature of Hornby’s material), manage to capture the very essence of the novel; fast paced, neurotic, and ultimately heart-breaking. High Fidelity is a movie about music, about ambition, about love, and, more than anything, about soul.

Darkplace it Ain't

The Devil’s Chair
(Adam Mason, 2006)

1 Star

It’s a very rare occasion when ones comes out of a film wondering if it was meant to be a parody or not, and with this bizarre piece of British horror, despite my somewhat disturbing some might say knowledge of the genre, I was left utterly perplexed as to whether I should have been taking it seriously.

Of course when casting Matt Berry, best known for his sojourn as “horror” actor Todd Rivers in Garth Merenghi’s Darkplace, a team must surely be taking their material with at least half an ounce of irony. Indeed, had this actually been a feature length episode of Darkplace, it would have been genius; the bad acting, the freeze-framing to allow for moments of voice-over narration… Even the monster itself looks like something from a Merenghi novel.

Alas, one gets the feeling that the creative minds behind The Devil’s Chair were really going for something much smarter than a simple parody. It seems as though there were aspirations of a Kubrik-style cerebral affront, that unfortunately gets lost in the mess of poor script, poor acting (save for Mr. Berry, who clearly sees the film for the trite that it is, and relishes therein) and poor direction.

I shan’t bore you with the nonsensical story, and indeed the “ingenious” twist at the end, because much like the film itself, it really isn’t worth it.

If however, like me, you wish to see the reprisal of “Todd Rivers’” career, this is one to watch. Just do what I did; replace the narration with that of Matthew Holness, the blonde girl with Alice Lowe and the old chap with Richard Ayoade. Therein lays success.

The one star? For having possibly the best line in a horror movie ever, and one which had me weeping with laughter; Matt Berry, when asked to investigate the mysterious chair – “Okay, but after, we carry on from where we were; I’ve got a right horn on”

KitKat Monthly

Things have been quiet as ever down here in deep dark Yanai. With the Spring storms raging, and the Ume blossoms fighting valiantly against the rain, I’ve been stuck indoors almost perpetually, working hard on a new screenplay (a secret for the time being I’m afraid), as well as continuing the illustrated adventures of Alfonso the Ant (coming soon to a book store near you…?).

Kids have been crazy, and with the end of the school year rapidly approaching I have been busy saying emotional goodbyes to some of my kindergarten classes as they move on to elementary school.

The light at the end of the tunnel? Why, KitKats of course! And here are the rather Spartan offerings of the last few weeks. Fortunately, the Maple variety is still available everywhere, so rather living off that one at the moment. There is talk of the legendary Soy Sauce species making its way to Yanai soon though… Tantalising, eh?

KitKat Petit – 3 Fingers

This is, I guess, somewhat akin to the KitKat Kubes that Nestle released a few years ago; tiny, bite-sized ingots of KitKatty goodness. They’re a bit pointless really, but being Japan, everything has to be tiny. So goes without saying that they should shrink (the already smaller than the rest of the world anyway) KitKats too. 3 stars simply because it’s a standard KitKat. Just miniaturised.

Custard Pudding KitKat – 2.5 Fingers

A few weeks ago, I had a singularly Elysian experience with a custard pudding KitKat bar, one of the greatest chocolate creations I have come across since coming to the far corners of the globe. As such, I was thrilled to find a multi-pack of standard sized custard-lings. Unfortunately, they messed up big time. Whilst the bar variety is an aromatic milk chocolate adventure, some clever boots decided to make its everyday counterpart a white chocolate version. And it just doesn’t work anywhere near as well… Sickly and stodgy, it does grow on you, but alas nothing compared to its big brother. Poo.


Semi-Sweet KitKat – 3 Fingers

I must admit, I had to call in the experts up in Tokyo to decipher what this one actually was, but I must say, despite the bizarre name, it’s pretty good. It’s a dark chocolate bar with a little extra kick… Exactly what the kick is, I’m not sure, but I like it. An enigma of a bar, wrapped in delightful Emo clothing. Hazah.

Banana KitKat Bar - 3.5 Fingers

Once again, the crown prince of candy this month goes to the mini-feast that is the KitKat bar. This month’s offer is a banana variety, and, unlike the standard banana bar of December, this is a white chocolate treat. With a great aroma, the perfect level of banana flavour, this is a real man’s snack. Kudos to the chaps in Bar Division; you’ve come up trumps again!

Manga Extravaganza

Manga is a huge part of Japanese life. Out West, we are all familiar with the joys of anime and the Nippon obsession with bubble-eyed schoolgirls and the despicable monsters that would have their way with them. Those who attended my leaving party last year were the unfortunate spectators of my own interpretation of the delights of hentai.

I remember fondly my time in Tokyo, seeing grown men on the brimful subways, all deeply immersed in their comic book of choice. Indeed, so much is the love of manga, that unlike in the West, where you are an oddball if you like comics, those who shy away of the monthly instalments of Naruto and other such page-turners in Japan are considered just plain weird.

So, this month, having received a bundle of books from one of my young students, I decided to immerse myself in the comic culture of Japan. And what with having to pay a small fortune to satisfy my X-Men addiction, I figured why the heck not? And so, fair readers, here’s the run down on a few of the popular pulp over in the far reaches of the East.

Case Closed!

Bloodhounds, bloodshed and beheadings adorn every page of this addictive little detective story, a Japanese dedication to the works of Conan Doyle. Jimmy Kudo is a high school prodigy, adept at solving mysteries that beguile even the most adept of the local police force. That is until the mysterious Men in Black subject him to an experimental drug that turns him into a six year old boy.

Taking the pseudonym Conan Edogawa, Jimmy struggles to hide his true identity whilst at the same time tracking down his new nemesis and fighting his feelings for the lovely Rachel. With a plethora of brain-busting puzzles and a sharp-tongued wit, Jimmy’s adventures are fun for all the family.

The Wonderful World of Sanzae-San

I think this is some kind of daily comic strip. The Japanese Peanuts perhaps, telling the story of a dysfunctional Japanese family, and centring around the exploits of the scatterbrained Sanzae. Perhaps akin to America’s Family Circus, though I don’t know as my knowledge of that is merely through sitcom osmosis. It’s a peculiar one, and most definitely a Jap thing. Some of it is laugh out loud hilarious, but the vast majority of strips left me with a real feeling of “sorry, what?”

Doraemon

Doraemon is something of a national treasure round these parts. His face adorns just about every variety of merchandise imaginable, and with his 30th movie having just hit cinemas, he continues to reign supreme. At first, I must admit, I though he was some kind of seal, but turns out he’s actually a robot cat from the future, able to produce anything from his magical pouch. It’s all a little strange really, and like Sanzae-San, I often found myself utterly bewildered. Give me Garfield any day.

Battle Royale

Koushin Takami’s notorious novel became famous throughout the world with the release of the infamous movie of the same name. And the book is great, don’t get me wrong. I read it a few months ago, and it truly is a page turner. Unfortunately, it leaves many questions unanswered, and leaves you wanting so much more. So, with a team of artists, Takami decided to give his audience exactly what they wanted; an explicit, blood-soaked multi-volume comic book expanding on the world created within the pages of his book.

The Battle Royale manga is beautifully illustrated, with just the right gore to up-skirt ratio one desires in any good adult oriented manga, and gives each and every student of the ill-fated class their own backstory. It also makes the villains all the more terrifying, relishing in their psychoses, and finally explaining why they are just so darned disturbed. Five full stars for awesomeness here.

Dog Fight

Cujo

(Stephen King, 1981)

VS

Cujo

(Lewis Teague, 1983)

After many a late night video taping of such classics as Carrie and Christine, I finally bought my first Stephen King book, aged thirteen, from a Sunday afternoon antiques fair. It was an omnibus edition of perhaps King’s three most famous stories; The Shining, Carrie and Misery. I remember fondly how I pawed my way through it, finishing Carrie in a matter of hours. Even at that age I realised that King was not simply a purveyor of schlock horror like his inferior counterpart Dean Koontz, but rather a master of story telling and character building.

It is something of a shame, therefore, that the films made of his stories are rarely a patch upon the original works. Yes, Kubrik’s The Shining is a true piece of cinematic mastery, with a visceral terror that few have surpassed, and the TV movie of IT is a wonderful showcase for Tim Curry’s inimitable talent. However, where directors have failed is in trying to capture the compassion and familiarity that King creates in every one of his characters, even those fated to death within moments of their introduction.

And thus, upon finishing King’s story of madness and claustrophobia, Cujo, I decided to revisit a film that I have not watched in perhaps a decade.

In Cujo, King introduces us to his usual array of characters; the failing writer (in this case an advertising artist), the curiously perceptive child, the portly cop… It’s certainly familiar ground. In this venture, however, King strays from his usual tale of the supernatural and delivers a truly terrifying story of the decent into madness of a loving family pet who is tragically bitten by a rabid bat. The lack of other-worldly undertones makes Cujo all the more haunting, as throughout the story, one feels that this time round, these events really could happen.

The personification of Cujo himself is beautifully formed, and makes his plight all the more tragic. Indeed, when the story is over, King reminds us that it was through no fault of his own, and merely a sickening twist of fate that brought about Cujo’s end.

The nauseating feeling of claustrophobia throughout the final two hundred pages of the book is perfectly written, with the few reprises of characters outside the fated car seeming like a real breath of fresh air. Perfect pacing and narrative from a real master of not just the genre, but of literature itself.

And so to the film. Lewis Teague does a good job of creating the atmosphere of tension, and the plight of our car-bound heroes. Horror veteran Dee Wallace (The Howling, Critters) delivers a career defining performance as Donna Trenton, and the relationship she creates with her son, Tad, is utterly believable.

Unfortunately, where Teague falters is exactly where every other director of a King-based movie does so; we simply do not know enough or care enough about the characters to make the story as hard-hitting as the book. In Cujo, Teague makes the bad people bad, and the good people good; there is no reason behind motives, and no redemption of the ill-fated. The happy Hollywood ending also completely undermines the point of the book.

Cujo himself is portrayed, quite unfortunately, as a typical movie monster. We don’t see his compassion and loyalty as we do in King’s writing, and as such the empathy one feels for him is lost.

However, that said, Cujo is a decent enough horror movie, and as a stand alone flick, it does a good job – a hefty number of scares, and some great makeup effects on the job. Alas, it’s no successor to the King.

Book - 4 Stars

Movie - 3 Stars

Who Put The Glad in Gladiator?

Hercules
(Ron Clements and John Musker, 1997)

4 Stars

It’s very difficult to review a Disney movie objectively. An overwhelming sense of nostalgia emanates from every lyric, and association from each line. I think every child in the Western world has a connection with one of the classics; for me it was The Great Mouse Detective, for my brother Luke, Cinderella (not so surprising really…), and for my youngest brother Harry, it was the star-studded odyssey into Grecian myth that was 1997’s Hercules. Indeed so much was Harry’s love for the demi-god that he would tie a tea-towel around his neck, arm himself with rolling pin and sewing-box-lid shield and proclaim “I’m Harry-cles, and I happanabe A HERO!”

But let’s not embarrass him any further. Hercules, Disney’s 35th animated feature, takes us on a legendary journey into Ancient Greece, and though rather elaborate with the “true” stories, it’s a ruddy good bit of fun, adorned with romance, humour, betrayal, and good ol’ family fun.

Watching Hercules now, having got over a tearful little trip down Memory Lane during the heart-wrenching “Go the Distance”, I could truly appreciate just why Disney movies are real “family” entertainment. Though animated, and with all the fun of the fair, Hercules is a very mature story, with many references that will be lost on kids, that still manages to keep enough basic humour to keep the kiddies a’giggling. And, something I never noticed as a child, it’s really sexy… The tension between Hercules and the temptress Megara is so raunchy that I honestly don’t believe critics these days would allow it to pass in a Universal rating. But censorship is perhaps a story for another day.

The animation is wonderful, throwing us fully into every aspect of the Grecian world, and although the CGI is a little dated (the Hydra, terrifying at the time, looks a bit pants now I’m afraid), it is more than made up for by the seamless pen and pencil art. A skill the team have brought back to good use in the recent The Princess and the Frog, reviewed earlier this week.

The voice cast too is impressive, with James Woods (Casino, Once Upon A Time in America) at his evil best as the devilish Hades, and Rip Torn (Men in Black, Dodgeball) showing a softer side of his booming voice as Herc’s father, Zeus. Cameo roles are in abundance, with the likes of Charlton Heston, BobCat Goldthwaite, Paul Shaffer, Wayne Knight, and many more throwing in a few lines here and there, creating perhaps one of the most high-profile voice casts in animation history.

Of course, what is a Disney movie without music? A lesson learned well in fan-failures such as Atlantis and Treasure Planet (both of which I quite like actually…). And what makes Hercules so utterly divine is the soundtrack; a rousing gospel motif from the minds of Alan Menkin and David Zippel. This is one of the few films where one can honestly say that every song is a hit, from the opening “The Gospel Truth”, to the stirring finale “A Star is Born”, every song oozes memorability. Of course, it is young Hercules’ (voiced by Roger Bart, son of legendary composer Lionel) rendition of “Go the Distance” that steals the screen, creating one of the finest Disney songs of all time. Congrats chaps; another masterpiece.

In all, Hercules is a real classic, and though often overshadowed by The Lion King, Aladdin, Beauty and the Beast (let’s face it, Disney had a pretty good run in the nineties), for me it will always stand strong amongst the greats. Thirteen years ago, a star was born, and it still shines bright to this day.