A brutally tense session of studel and creme

As the summer winds to a close and we find ourselves finally able to forget the sensory onslaught of the blockbuster season (I mercifully managed to avoid Michael Bay soiling my retinas) we find ourselves facing those films languishing in cinematic purgatory. Too mature for the summer, too coarse for make the grade for awards season these are the films that lack a defined place among the social classes of high-brow and low-brow.  Tarantino, it seems, has evolved over the years into a director who has consistently found himself stuck in this juxtaposition of identity. His name still carrying the intellectual kudos to impress the cinematic authorities at Cannes and western critics but with a noticeable decline in quality post-Jackie Brown which has left him appealing solely to fanboys and indeed fans of himself.  It is fitting then that lack of identity is one of the largest problems with Inglorious Basterds, Tarantino’s long mused over World War Two epic centred on a team of Jewish guerrilla soldiers sent to strike fear into the hearts of German soldiers. However the story is split two ways between that of the ‘basterds’ and of Shosanna Dreyfus a young Jewish girl seeking revenge for the slaughter of her family and inevitably the two threads are destined to collide.

   The largest problem with this is that not enough time is dedicated to either storyline to get the full emotional impact or entertainment value. The Basterds storyline is introduced as a typical men-on-a-mission in the vein of The Dirty Dozen or The Dambusters with Brad Pitt as the inimitable Aldo Raine. Sporting a thick southern drawl and a suspicious scar Raine is clearly another iconic Tarantino character in the making and Pitt plays him superbly. Seething with the internal anger of a man who’d scalp the gods if they crossed him and yet not once loosing his cool, not once does Pitt turn this man into a demented hillbilly parody. Instead Raine is cunning, calculated and determined to see this mission through. However Raine is the only Basterd who we get a fully rounded impression of as a character, aside from a few moments from Eli Roth’s sadistic baseball bat wielding Donny Donowitz (affectionately dubbed The Bear Jew by the Nazis) little is seen of the rest of the team. Many of the original members don’t have lines let alone any degree of character, apparently sidelined halfway through the film for the inclusion of the chillingly psychotic Hugo Stiglitz (Til Schweiger) whose sole job is apparently to sit and look scary. Which is where the film fails as a men-on-a-mission theme, there is nothing seen of the Basterds functioning as a team, no planning of tactics, no casual background exposition. Instead of a group of individuals contributing their skills and ideas to a successful mission they are reduced to a group of faceless, killers standing in the background.

   But the Basterds were never intended to be the primary focus of the film, in all the articles and features that circulated about Inglorious Basterds Tarantino always asserted that it was Shosanna and not Aldo who was the film’s central protagonist.  Yet Shosanna suffers the same lack of attention that the Basterds do, first encountered briefly as she flees for her life through the fields of rural France and not seen again until the films third chapter, now living in Paris under a false identity as the owner of a cinema. As a result the audience does not get nearly enough time to empathise with her as a character at the beginning. Its only following a brutally tense session of strudel and crème with the man who murdered her family (apparently now oblivious to her identity) that Shosanna once again becomes the terrified and venerable femme fatale truly worthy of our sympathy. Yet her vulnerabilities remain concealed throughout the film as she begins to plan her revenge from manipulating her projectionist and lover Marcel to threatening an unwilling collaborator at axe point leaving her role as the emotional heart of the film slightly diminished.

   Furthermore the film lacks many of the distinctive qualities we have come to associate with a Tarantino film. The lengthy tracking shots that follow the characters like a companion, the 70s exploitation style music and the scenes of lengthy character dialogue (or at least ones with characters who won’t be dead by the end of the scene).  Which will not only disappoint the fanboys but also deprives the film of engaging qualities that made his earlier work so engaging and as a result some scenes do drag on. However Tarantino still proves himself as a skilled director in several scenes, more specifically displaying a skill for suspense to rival Hitchcock himself. The opening chapter for example sees antagonist Standartenfurer Hans Landa, The Jew Hunter, skilfully interrogate a French dairy farmer who may or may not be hiding Jewish fugitives. As Landa subtly tiptoes around the subject with metaphors of hawks and rats I implore anyone not to be on the edge of their seats throughout. As well as the aforementioned scene between him and Shosanna where he casually discusses the upcoming Nazi premiere over strudel, telling her to “attendez la crème” just forcefully enough to keep their friendly dessert rife with tension. Indeed if the film has one quality that redeems its other flaws it is Landa himself, one of Tarantino’s most memorable creations to date. Disturbingly creepy yet undeniably charming Landa provides the perfect foil to Aldo as a man who looks out purely for himself. His opinion on his unofficial title of The Jew Hunter changing depending on how it serves the conversation be it intimidating victims or persuading potential allies. Christopher Walz plays the character to perfection and does so with relish, giddy as a schoolboy when repeating western phrases “That’s a bingo!” or taking the piss out of the Basterd’s attempt to pose as Italian filmmakers.  Comical and terrifying, complex and yet single-minded Landa is possibly the best thing the film has to offer. In the end the biggest problem with Inglorious Basterds is that you leave the cinema wanting more, as strange as it sounds for a problem. More of Tarantino, more of the Basterds and so, so much more of Shosanna the film is still entertaining but inevitably unsatisfying. By no means it is Tarantino’s masterpiece nor is it entirely a piece of shit but rather a good sign of things to come.

Nut up or shut up!

   It’s possible to say that there is no genre in cinema more versatile and malleable than the Zombie Film. As a writer you can do virtually anything with the undead and judging Hollywood’s output these days it seems people often do. Be it is using them as dark reflection of human nature in Romero’s Dawn of the Dead, a nostalgic and hilarious homage in the for, of Shaun of the Dead. Or, in extreme cases, just plain abused for the sake of low-budget seventies skin flicks like Nudist Colony of the Dead, a VHS abomination I encountered at a truck stop in Reno*. The reason zombies are put to such a variety of uses lies in the simplicity of their premise, i.e. ‘the dead are rising, lets run away’, you wouldn’t exactly need Jane Austen to fill out a movie on that notion. Zombie films also have the advantage of an antagonist already existing without the need to write a half-compelling villain. Although in fairness some of the better writers carve antagonistic forces out of their survivors that are more despicable than a zombie could ever hope to be. Charlie Brooker’s mini series Dead Set saw the creation of Patrick, the foul mouthed, egotistical producer of Big Brother, hell-bent on escaping the confines of his own show in the midst of a zombie rampage. More than willing to put his fellow survivors at risk for his own sake all while ridiculing and humiliating them, Patrick may be one of the foulest creatures in television and its satisfying to see him face the unstoppable force of an undead horde.  

  Because the simplicity of the genre zombie films are in abundance throughout cinema history however only a select few stand out as being significant. Zombieland might be the most significant addition since Danny Boyle’s 28 Days Later, which is not the same as saying it is as good or as compelling. But in terms of what they both do with the genre, both films are essentially not Zombie films*. 28 Days Later is not a Zombie film or even a Sci-Fi film but in fact a human drama set within the world of a Zombie film. Occasionally yes, the zombies do affect the narrative but the focus of the film remains on the relationship that develops between the characters. In a similar vein Zombieland is a character driven comedy that happens to take place in an equally zombified setting. And while sometimes the zombies do get mixed in with the comedy the biggest laughs in the film undoubtedly come from this eclectic cast of characters. The first being a much beloved stock character, the socially neurotic Columbus, played lovingly by Jesse Eisenberg (Michael Cera watch out, he can do the awkward- kid thing and we’re not sick of the sight of him!). Eisenberg is on form as Columbus, a hapless college kid now thrown in the deep end of shit creek, surviving only on a rigorous set of rules which he sticks with all the dedication of a nerd. In fact it’s the rules which become one of the films strongest points, a series of recurring gags that break the fourth wall not only for a quick laugh but also as a clever commentary on the genre. The rule of double tapping for example, a fairly blunt nod to those moments in horror films where the killer is shot down but undoubtedly still alive and we, the audience, are screaming for someone to blow their brains out.  

Into Columbus’s secure little, loner world comes a bizarre surrogate family to keep the momentum flowing. Starting with Tallahassee (Woody Harrellson) a veritable badass utterly relishing the chaos around him. Shortly following is Wichita (Emma Stone), the standard-issue love interest and her sister Little Rock (Abigail Breslin) dragging the protagonists on a road trip that involves a hilarious celeb cameo and a mind-boggling trip to an amusement park. Leading to a climactic showdown and perhaps one of the best directed zombie massacres in recent years. The writing is exceptional here with Harrelson taking all the best lines as a Twinkie loving zombie-killer. It is the chemistry between him and Eisenberg’s character which is the films lynchpin, the neurotic little waif pedantically trying to push his rulebook on a man whose only response is: “Do you wanna see how hard I can hit”. As a result however the relationship between the girls feels underwritten by comparison and by extension Wichita’s chemistry with Columbus feels forced. Furthermore the film’s final moral about the nature of family feels overly sentimental and hardly in keeping with the tone of the film. Regardless the film is a hilarious, action packed zombie romp, skilfully written without venturing into the darker territory of traditional zombie films. Some may pick fault at the logic of the films finale in which the characters seek refuge in a wide open area filled with lights and loud music. But this is not a film about logic it is a film about people; stupid, crazy, annoying people just trying to enjoy the little things in life and seeing them do it is well worth the trip.

*It’s currently enjoying wide circulation in New Zealand thanks to one Alex Clark

*And not just because they don’t use the traditional slow moving zombies

Skins and other reasons why I drink.

The people that know me best will be able to tell you that Skins, for me is a bittersweet issue to say the least. Now I am willing to admit that I quite contentedly watched the first two seasons of Skins, the 1st Generation if you will. But more than that I enjoyed the series, it was one of the few shows left that I actually looked forward to its broadcast. No one will deny it was a coarse, inaccurate and sensationalist view of teenage life. But beyond that the show was an intelligent and funny portrayal of the struggle of the teenage years. The learning curve between the arrogant, self-centred piss-weasel you once were into the relatively well adjusted adult you may become. Lead protagonist Tony Stonem suits this to a tee, spending much of the first season manipulating and abusing his closest friends only for them to reject him outright. It takes a bus to the face for Tony to learn humility and that’s exactly what happens. As you can imagine the characters are not totally likeable but it would take a saint to be their age and be totally likeable. Which is beside the point because the characters had depth to them, they were shallow and self-serving but also vulnerable, ambitious, lonely and in rare cases actually nice. But eventually season 2 came to a close and the characters we had come to love were leaving. For me this was where Skins ended, when all but one of the main cast moving on to uncharted horizons. Though I knew it wasn’t really the end, the show was to continue with an entirely new set of characters but I didn’t hold out much hope. To end it at the second season seemed the logical place, going out with a little dignity and anything more would have been beating a dead horse. But in the face of naysayers I kept a thread of hope that the 2nd Generation could hold its own. So when the day came I tentatively opened my laptop and clicked on the link to 4OD.

So how was my faith rewarded? Well basically the writers decided to shit on everything that made the show good and toss it out like a soggy tissue. And I’m not just talking about the characters here, but the wit, the visual montage. All that was replaced it with anything cheap and ostentatious to get the attention of anyone with the mental age of ten. These weren’t characters they were caricatures, there were no scenes just random events that culminated in all of nothing. And what’s worse many of the characters were despicable and manipulative, I know our protagonists are supposed to have flaws but these were people I wanted to see dead. Now some of you familiar with the series will recall that Tony was also a manipulative sociopath who behaved in a truly despicable manner. But he was the sole exception in the previous cast, the worst you could say about any of the 1st generation is that they were self-obsessed. None of them held any actual malice towards each other, Chris just wanted a good time, Michelle just wanted to be loved and Sid just wanted to get laid. There is nothing however which excuses the actions of these characters and if you don’t believe me look at the first few minutes of the third series, our introduction to the 2nd generation.

We start with Freddie, an unassuming young man, skateboarding down Park Street in Bristol. Now if you’ve ever been to Park Street you know it’s a near-vertical incline as well as an important part of Bristol’s traffic infrastructure. So by riding a fucking skateboard down in the middle of rush hour Freddie is likely to, at best land flat on his face or at worst cause a car accident. Instead Freddie flies past a police officer on a bike knocking his ice cream cone into his lap so that it looks like a cock. And then Sid James laughs lecherously before molesting Barbara Windsor, oh wait I’m sorry this isn’t a Carry On film, its just Skins now has all the humour of one. So the officer gives chase, because being annoying is apparently a crime, sure why not, and for his trouble he goes flying into a nearby garbage truck that Freddie was able to avoid. The camera now follows Freddie to spare us the image of the massive metal teeth of the truck compacting on the cop crushing him to a horrific, painful death. Seriously is there gonna be any continuity with this scene, like later in there series Freddie has to apologise to the officers family, that because he was being all cool and rebellious his children no longer has a father to support them? Probably not but it’s a nice thought. But anyway Freddie joins his mates Cook and J.J. (ugh we’ll get to him later) for a few pre-college drinks and drugs, which is perhaps the least reprehensible thing they actually do.

Cook swears and acts boisterously while J.J. analyses the benefits of drinking Carlsberg over eating a Snickers, it’s all so-so. However eventually the three spot the cops bike left in the middle of the road and sure enough a car crashes into it and swerves into a bollard. Who should get out of the car, why it’s Harry Enfield, patriarch of the Stonem household and all round buffoon, who shouts and swears at the situation. Jesus, didn’t we get past his character being this incompetent idiot in the second series, you know, where he proved himself to be an ultimately caring and loving father figure by nurturing Tony in his time of need. Well why have good character development when you can have cheap comedy? After some ranting Cook pretends to be an injured cyclist and cons Harry Enfield into buying him a new bike. And there you have it people, our central protagonists, the people we’re supposed to follow, relate to and eventually come to love. We’re barely five minutes in and they have already murdered a public servant, caused a near fatal traffic collision and then conned the victim.

Now I’ll admit J.J. has not done any of this, he’s just recited a set of statistics and facts in an eloquent manner. It’s all fairly interesting but for all it serves the story he might as well be repeating ‘I’m Autistic, I’m Autistic’ like a broken fucking record. Obviously J.J is meant to represent the kinds of social minorities the writers like to use to cover a broad range of teenage issues. Much like Maxxie and Anwar, being Gay and a Muslim respectively, the difference being while those were a key aspect of their characters they weren’t the only aspect. Maxxie and Anwar were never defined solely by their sexuality or their religion, they were people. With J.J however there’s no such depth, almost all of his character traits are linked to him having Asperger’s Syndrome. Oh and before you go throwing accusations around, let me make one thing clear. I can recognise that J.J. has Asperger’s not because I myself have it, not because friends of mine have it or even because I’ve studied the disorder academically. I recognise this for the simple reason that I’m not a fucking moron. In fact, as if to make it even more blatant later in the episode when asked to introduce himself he outright states that he has a higher intellectual capacity but a reduced social skills. Which if I recall is the…oh what is it again…oh yeah, the dictionary definition of Asperger’s. Good Lord J.J. I know they’re just trying to write you as the oddball, comic relief, but to me you come off like the worst kind of scum.

As much as I hate to contradict myself I’ve got to give the writers credit in constructing Freddie’s character, who on the whole manages to display his personal idiosyncrasies with a subtlety that the others lack. He comes across as collected, happy-go-lucky and unassuming and is obviously not written to be the psycho anarchist his actions imply. What’s more is that he shows the writers ability to craft an effective trio which each of them symbolising the fundamental aspects of a person. The body (Cook), the mind (J.J.) and the soul (Freddie). We can see these three struggling without each other but when together they become a functional unit. It is for this reason that we can accept such radically different people being friends. However there is no such excuse for Cook who is the perfect example of the writers thought process: Flawed Character = Amoral Cunt, and I apologise for the language but there’s no better word to describe him. Cook the cock it seems will literally kick, spit, swear and screw whatever he feels like with no sign of remorse. It’s not hard to see how he came about as a character, the writers clearly noticed that in earlier series that Tony remained popular among viewers despite being wholly unlikeable as a person. So following the same formula they created a protagonist who was utterly reprehensible. The problem is that while Tony was a sociopath who manipulated people for his amusement he never went out of his way to physically hurt people and showed genuine regret when his actions caused the suffering of others. With Cook there is no such contrition nor do people reject him for his violent tendencies. In fact as well as being the most violent of any of the characters he is also the most well-laid, having been balls deep in two of the main cast. Yeah great message to be sending to the impressionable youth of today, beating people up is what gets you the pussy.

Oh and as it happens the one who becomes Cooks most regular fuck-rag is Effy. You remember Effy, the cool, enigmatic, master pupetteer who spent the last series chewing up arrogant piss-weasels like Cook? Well she’s back and thoroughly neutered. Far from the confident, intelligent hedonist who successfully pushed all the previous characters into resolving their differences. She’s now playing silly games, being torn between men/idiots and stating bluntly what the old Effy could tell us with the flicker of her eyes. What’s worse is that most of the conflict in series three comes from Effy’s fragile status as ‘Queen Bee’ of the group, as if her character was torn right out of Mean Girls. Remember this is a girl who subtly manipulated her brother and many others for their own good and did she want an ounce of recognition for her efforts? Did she fuck, she was just happy that the people she loved were bending to her will. Whether for their own good or just her amusement, this displayed a level of intelligence unequalled by any other character and yet is completely absent in the new series. Which pretty much summed up the direction the show was going; the writers had sacrificed intelligence and subtlety for cheap laughs and shock value. The protagonists were only ever one-dimensional and for the most part irritating. Skins had been reduced from a smart, broad dramedy to what everyone first said it was, coarse, sensationalist teen programming. Channel 4’s love letter to the ASBO generation. Was it ever anything else? I do not know, but it was not the show I once fell in love with and I would return to it only one more time to see where it had gone from here.

Hollyoaks with Cumshots: Skins Part Two

Okay now before I get into the first episode a few matters to cover, firstly the length as this is my first ever two-part review and it might seem like I’m just in love with my own writing. I do apologise for the excessive length of the story but feel in order to give full perspective on the orgy of issues I have with Skins it’s a necessity. Secondly I want to talk about why I returned to a show that has previously left me feeling so disappointed. It happened a few weeks before Christmas when I heard from a friend of mine who works in counselling and was asking about Skins. Why? Well it seems that at work she met a girl who was there for therapy and was something of a Skins fan. Now she had very deep-seeded emotional issues that warranted a need for counselling but one of those problems was she was actually afraid of growing older. Seems she had viewed Skins as an accurate portrayal of adolescence and did not want to go through a time in her life where she would be subjected to violence, emotional abuse and drugs. Skins has actually reached a point where it is PSYCHOLOGICALLY DISTRESSING to young people, actually making them fear their inevitable adolescence. So I returned to the show, whiskey in hand, in the hope that something might have changed, something might have made this show not as damaging as it once was.

Well the title sequence isn’t damaging to anyone save epileptics, though frankly I feel like I’m having a head-on collision with the collage dimension. The show itself open on a veritable pit of despair, a party girl who look like she’s been though a saw mill. She proceeds to clean out her teeth with cocaine and return to the club which is in full swing with indie-kids bouncing around struggling the hear each other. One by one she passes the rest of the second generation before finding a high enough ledge and throwing herself off crashing onto the floor in a pool of blood. Are we having fun yet kids? If this was any other show I’d assume this was a precursor to the main characters slowly realising the dangers of their lifestyle but who’s gonna give them that much credit. This scene is only meant to shock you into paying attention and indicate a darker tone for the rest of the series. So the police are called in and it’s up to Pauline Quirke to play detective and she does give a pretty menacing impression. The club owner denies any knowledge of what happened and so does Thomas who apparently runs the night and DJ. Now because I stopped watching series three Thomas is an entirely new character to me despite being one of the main cast. This means I can take a fresh perspective to his role in the series especially as this episode is centred around him. Thomas chastises the owner about letting underage kids in and the owner offers him a little extra money to keep his mouth shut. Thomas takes Pandora to his home (apparently they’re dating), but before they can get to bed they’re caught, Thomas’s mum is up taking care of his sick little brother, Daniel. She yells at him for being out so late and for bringing Pandora home and Pandora gets a little too defensive. While the rambling about her and Thomas’s sex life is amusing its so sitcomesque that I struggle to believe anyone would be so stupid in real life.

As Thomas takes care of his brother he tells his mum about the girl before showing her the bribe but naturally she doesn’t want it, she then slaps Thomas, yes seriously, she slaps him. For what exactly? I know she doesn’t want the money but that’s hardly Thomas’s fault, he’s just trying to take the one good thing from this and use it to help his family. It’s a little misguided but hardly worth a slap over. But Thomas puts his brother to bed says his prayers (I guess he’s the new moral voice of the group, God help him) and tries to go to sleep but first Pandora want some sexing. I know when I’ve just seen someone dies horribly and painfully that’s just what I need. The next scene is set at a nearly all-black gospel choir which I always find fun to watch as I genuinely wonder if such places exist in Britain. After the service the Reverend greets them and Thomas’s mother immediately goes back to her stream of irrationality complaining that he’s falling because of his friends and girlfriend. Which is stupid because the only one she’s actually met is Pandora and while she’s retarded that’s hardly bad for Thomas. Instead of dismissing these as the rantings of an overprotective mother the Reverend actually agrees encouraging to leave his friends and come back to the fold. Huh, guess on top of homosexuality, pre-marital sex and abortions the church also forbids socialising.

Back at school there’s been a change of staff, an old teacher has been replaced by Chris Addison of In the Loop fame. Now often a criticism of Skins has been that it presents parents and authority figures as almost entirely impotent, Tony’s dad is a buffoon, their principal is too soft and Thomas’s mum is clearly insane*. Chris Addison seems to be a subversion of that promising the expel anyone he deems a threat to progress, the problem with this is that it’s so over the top that it just feels ridiculous. Their principal informs them that the police want to speak with the whole college about the girl who died and they want to do it one by one, which is perhaps the biggest waste of police time I’ve ever seen. The kids are quite naturally annoyed by this and discuss it for a while before the subject moves to Effy, seem she’s been missing for some time. Presumably she’s trapped in a deep dark room, naked, bound and gagged, quaking in fear at the thought of the writers returning to fuck her in the ass yet again.

Anyway Thomas goes to the bathroom to find Cook dumping his stash, he thinks Cook is the one who gave the dead girl some drugs and pretty soon they kick off. However before Cook can get the beating he so desperately deserves Freddie intervenes, shooting Thomas a disdainful look as he goes, and rightly so. After all Thomas who are you to kick off at a known antagonising prick, at someone utterly devoid of moral boundaries, at someone who shagged your girlfriend then threw it in your face relentlessly. How dare you try to be moral, upstanding…good, this is Skins Thomas and here evil has won. Next Thomas is working by himself and Pandora comes in to bother him and although she does so in her typical annoying girlfriend manner, honestly I’m not annoyed. Am I amused…perhaps, am I drunk…definitely, but not annoyed. Like with Freddie, Pandora is written with very basic character traits (clue: she’s stupid) but manages to convey them with enough subtlety to feel like a person. Which brings me to wonder if it’s the writers or the actors who are responsible for these occasional good turns, while I despise Cook as a character I honestly don’t put that onto Jack O’Connell, he’s just playing the character he was given. I don’t want to unjustly criticise the writers too much as I’m very supportive of people who’ve succeeded in a difficult industry at such a young age but it has to be said that their writing staff has an average age of 21 and its possible that some of the poorer aspects of the show come from a lack of experience. But I digress, Pandora and Thomas start making out and pretty soon she’s eager for more post-trauma sex. Thomas refuses, but on his way out he does spy on a young, attractive girl singing gospel, it’s the Reverend’s daughter and a trashy romance writer can see where this is going.

Next Thomas is stuck taking care of his brother and sister so he’s taken them to prayer group. Not much happens except the kids sing hymns and Thomas has a little sexual tension with the Rev’s daughter. But sooner or later Thomas’s brother forgets how to breathe again, Thomas helps him and quickly takes him to a doctor. Their mother comes in and immediately blames Thomas for the whole thing, but the doctor is more concerned with…y’know the dying kid. He asks if there are any environmental factors, damp or dust to which she get offended insisting she keeps a clean house. Thomas reveals the damp in their house at which point she goes batshit yelling at Thomas about how he dares to question her parenting. Again, I can see why she’s upset but it takes a real stretch of the imagination to see why she’d blame Thomas when he’s done everything right so far. He took Daniel to the safest possible environment, got him breathing and took him to a professional to help. The only reason she is angry with Thomas is because the plot needs her to be, it needs us to sympathise with Thomas right now. So Thomas storms out, the Rev’s daughter tries to talk to him but he just passes her by so she bangs his brains out in a laundry room. What the fuck is it with the girls in this show and traumatic events? Do their brains have some sort of default setting, something bad happens so they shut down and revert to base instincts? Seriously if I’m every really desperate I’m just going to drive into Bristol find a suitable girl and kill a puppy in front of her. Incidentally this is the point where I lose all respect for Thomas as a character, this may be setting the moral event horizon a little high but really he can’t expect to be a moral voice, critiquing the characters decadent lifestyles and then engaging in it himself, especially at the expense of someone he loves.

Later Pandora comes all set and ready to have her heart crushed, and they shoot the breeze for a little while before Thomas finally comes clean. He confesses he had sex with a smoking hot African princess and his only defence is ‘you did it first’. Yes that’s right Pandora is the second cast member who was just unable to resist Cook’s sexy potato head. This scene is one that tries really hard to be emotional and it would have succeeded if it didn’t contain fucking J.J. why in God’s name is he in this scene? This isn’t just my hate talking, this is a scene that develops the relationship between Thomas and Pandora so really it should only contain those two characters. Was the guy who plays J.J.* just hanging around for the day and they thought they’d use him? The only thing I can fathom is that J.J. is here to provide comic relief, but he’s can’t provide comic relief, he can only annoy. Thomas mopes for a bit at school before he’s taken to Chris Addison to be expelled, which…I guess is supposed to mean something, though what I couldn’t tell you. Why is he being expelled, because he’s was there when the girl died? But the entire main cast was there too so why aren’t they expelled. Is it because he works at the club, but all of eight people know he works there so I doubt there’s much of a link to the college. And if Chris Addison’s taking this much of a stand against troublemakers why isn’t he expelling the people who committed the atrocities of the last series? Like Cook who ran a full riot and trashed the school while all Thomas has done is get a job. Again this is something which only exists to manipulate us into feeling sorry for Thomas, the word of the day is contrived.

So sinking into depression Thomas drinks and drinks and who should be sat on a nearby table, why it’s Cook ready to unleash his stream of verbal abuse yet again. Thomas knocks him to the floor and starts beating the crap out of him, ranting about the dead girl who no one honestly cares about anymore. But for the sake of false drama Naomi drags Thomas off Cook and admits she’s the one who gave the girl the drugs, which…I guess is supposed to mean something. I mean it turns out Cook gave Naomi the coke in the first place which means they’re both indirectly responsible and it still someone in his social circle here only now it’s someone he can’t knock out over it and personally I wouldn’t care if he did. So Thomas talks with Rev’s daughter again, bitches for a while then goes home. His mother finally agrees to use Thomas’s money and they put down a deposit on a cleaner home. I would rant about the lack of logic here like: exactly how much of a bribe did he get or how did they manage to move house in the space of ten minutes? But frankly I don’t care anymore, I give up, Skins you’ve won, I promise I won’t watch anymore!

Now living in middle-class paradise all is well and Thomas goes to apologise to Pandora but she’s not taking him back and closes the door on him. Just to show I’m not entirely filled with venom let me say that scene was perfect! It lasts for all of 53.74 second and is possibly the only time that I wasn’t annoyed, appalled or bored. It contained a strong balance of genuine emotional development with dramatic plausibility. Pandora is doing something radically different here in rejecting someone she clearly cares about but is completely in character as Pandora. Likewise Thomas conveys an air of solemn contrition, while he obviously wants Pandora back I don’t believe that’s why he’s apologising it’s simply because she deserves it. They both return to their homes and Pandora says to someone ‘I told him no like you said.’ Wait, what? No, you told him no because it was the right thing to do! Sigh, so who’s she talking to, it’s DUN, DUN, DUN…Effy. Which…I guess is supposed to mean something. Although it’s kind of a disservice to her character that she’s been completely absent and even the viewers didn’t care. Besides all this does is completely undermine the strength of the last scene, Pandora didn’t reject Thomas because she’s growing as a person but because she was told to. Well done Skins, well done. The episode ends quite aptly with a shot of Thomas crying, probably to reflect how the audience is feeling.

So there we have it, Skins series 4, a contrived episode which largely made no sense and while there were some strong moments frankly all I see here is Channel 4’s eternal love letter to the Asbo generation, like Hollyoaks with Cumshots. It wasn’t until recently it clicked as to how the series could have fallen so far, yet insists on carrying on. It was in WHSmith when I spied a copy of Skins: The Novel that I realised that between the DVDs, the music, the clothes, the Skins-themed club nights and now talks of a movie Skins had officially become a franchise. A cold, lifeless machine designed to produce a product and make money and like Star Wars and the Pirates Trilogy, Skins was doomed to stagnation. But it would be a long time before Channel 4 would finally put its prized cash cow out to pasture and in that time a lot of damage can be done. I only hope the youth of today is smarter than I was, to recognise this as pure fiction and not the life that awaits them.

Robin Hood: A Wedding Dress Made From Different Bits of Curtain

First of all apologies are in order, The Salsa Shark has not been meeting its potential output and I know it must have been very distressing for all eight of you who actually read my blog. I can only plead extenuating circumstances for leaving you in the dark since my two-part essay on Skins as my schedule was rammed up to eleven shortly after. Needless to say I’ve been mostly dividing my time between trying like hell to graduate, looking for a job, performing stand-up on a regular basis and, perhaps most demanding of all, actually having a girlfriend for a brief period. But now all those frivolous distractions are behind me I can finally apply my efforts to where my heart truly lies, ripping into a grade-A piece of shit. Perfect for this purpose is 2010’s Robin Hood, yet another attempt by Ridley Scott to capitalise on the Historical Epic genre that he revived with Gladiator (his previous attempt, Kingdom of Heaven speaks for itself). The story opens with King Richard fighting a fictitious battle in 12th Century France where our titular Robin (Russell Crowe) is serving as a common archer. For the most part Crowe played Robin as not being so much world-weary as just plain knackered half the time. The only show of real passion is when he twats Little John for almost no reason and gets himself and his merry men in the stocks. Of course this may sound like dickish behaviour but Robin has a tragic back-story so we can feel sorry for him. After all, it’s not like we’d need strong characterisation or a nuanced performance to endear us to the hero. Fortunately the ambush isn’t for Robin but the King’s escort returning the crown back to England. Robin and his men fight Godfrey off, giving him an arrow across the cheek for his troubles. In any other film this would leave him with a pretty badass scar but in Ridley Scott’s world he just gets a herpes sore. After the battle Robin comes across Sir Robert Loxely who, with his dying breath, asks him to return his sword to the family estate in Nottingham. Robin agrees and they take the place of the soldiers escorting the crown. Meanwhile the monarchy back home is also in disarray as Prince John (Oscar Isaac), England’s first metro-sexual king, is getting jiggy with the King of France’s niece, though the girl playing her sounds more Jamaican in accent than anything. Between this and the Guatemalan Isaac playing an English king I’d swear the casting director was really hung-over during auditions. However John hopes that with his Kingston Queen he can improve relations with France, supply an heir to the throne and convince the audience he’s actually straight. The problem is this has nothing to do with the plot which s that after the costly war John attempts to collect extortionate taxes from the Northern Barons and Nottingham will soon be in his sights. Nottingham itself isn’t doing too well as it is though, Maid Marion Loxley (Cate Blanchette) is finding the community’s grain poached by the church and stolen by wild orphans. When Robin arrives with Loxley’s sword Sir Walter Loxely decides that he should take his son’s place to maintain their estate and protect the village. So now we’re throwing a marriage of convenience into the mix, this films plot, or plots, are so convoluted I’d need a flow chart to explain them all, which is fine when you’re making Magnolia but we’re here to see Robin Hood. The biggest problem though is that all the separate storylines; the war with France, Godfrey’s betrayal, Robin posing as Loxley, have so little to do with each other that any of them could be taken out with impacting the film. In a way, the film feels like a wedding dress made from several different curtain fabrics. You can maybe argue that the materials work but putting them together is going to be a clumsy and tedious effort and it’ll never look right. Ironically though the part that feels like it was added as an aside, this marriage of convenience business, is actually the strongest portion of the film. Here we engage in what is closest to the story of Robin Hood with his time in Nottingham, the back and forth sniping between Crowe and Blanchett, Little John’s fondness for fat chicks, meeting Friar Tuck, lots of good bits. It even gives the merry men, who short of Little John have had no characterisation, something to do. But Scott seems so determined to tell the true-to-life story of Robin Hood that he forces in a completely imagined war with historical figures who bear zero resemblance to their real life counterparts. This boils the story down to that of a generic historical epic which completely ignores the entire idea of Robin Hood. Robin Hood is a legendary folk hero and not someone rooted in reality and the notion that you can tell realistic, historical tale that remains true to the figure is at best misguided and at worst downright foolish Technically speaking the film is also weak, there is little that impresses in the battle scenes, especially when most of the fighters are indiscernible. Rarely cinematography is a noticeable element but here even that has its poor moments and one might feel a skilled editor could have overcome the confused plot. On a positive note Mark Strong intimidates as always and Isaac manages to overcome the issue of race to play a convincing English King, even if it convinces only in personality. The Julliard-trained William Hurt is tragically wasted as John’s advisor, a minor role by anyone standards and, like all characters opposite John, exists solely to reflect what a dick he is. But otherwise this great epic feels like Sunday night television, a relaxing distraction for when there’s nothing else to do.

The Comic was Better Than the Movie

At the climax of recent comic book adaptation, Scott Pilgrim Vs. the World, Scott’s one true love Ramona discovers that Scott was still dating 17-year-old Knives Chau when they first met. Her first assumption is that he cheated on her with Knives, but the truth is much worse, he cheated on Knives with her. Scott betrayed the trust of a vulnerable schoolgirl who loved him and his only excuse is that Ramona wasn’t the one wronged. In the comics almost the exact scene occurs but the tone is far different, whereas the film has this as a hasty interlude amongst the lighting-fast action the comic portrays a moment of quiet revelation. Scott has accepted what he did and looks back on it with deep regret and while this is thrust upon Ramona onscreen, on page she spends pages trying to come to terms with it.

What makes this scene all the better in the comics is the role it plays in the series as a whole. When Ramona comes to the conclusion that Scott is a bad person he offers the consolation that he’s trying to change, he’s trying to make the relationship work. But as we’ve seen Ramona is no paragon of virtue herself and if Scott’s going to change, she’ll have to change as well. The only problem; nothing changes Ramona, she’s the girl in charge, always the dumper, never the dumpee, the world can’t change her if she changes first. Ramona handles her problems by bringing them on her terms* and if it’s a choice between changing for Scott or changing for herself she’s going with the latter. It’s the reason she dumps Scott and the obstacle she must overcome in the final volume.

This is why the statement: “The comic was better than the movie”, is so fitting for Scott Pilgrim Vs. the World, which is excellent in its own right but comparatively shallow. While a film forces you through the events at 24 frames a second the comic allows for a broader context. You can read volume six and events from volume five will make sense, something which was once a funny joke will be given deeper meaning. It is ironic that a means of storytelling so concerned with its visuals should be the one with the greatest depth.

The difference in quality between the two mediums is by no means restricted to Scott Pilgrim, arguably one of the most controversial adaptation was of Alan Moore’s Watchmen. The project languished in limbo for year and eventually fell into development hell before some young punk gave it a go. And while Zack Snyder arguably accomplished the dramatic visuals of the graphic novel there was no way he, or any other filmmaker, could capture the complex web of characters and historical context that made Watchmen Moore’s masterpiece. Having read the comic a good 6 billion times I’m still finding new revelations, new visual details included in each page.

It’s an issue which is relevant to an era where the romantic comedy is perhaps the shallowest genre of movies around. While Ramona’s inner turmoil is side-stepped (Scott hits the film’s equivalent of a reset button) Scott Pilgrim Vs. the World is one of the few romantic comedies (c’mon what else is it?) that allows for a little character growth. While it may simply be that Scott gets a life, his journey is miles ahead of anything that JLo, Sandra Bullock or Katherine Heigl can offer. It is an outrage that cinema today can take so many lessons from contemporary comic book, yet choose to remain ignorant.
The League Hath Spoken!


*For those of you who read the comics its the reason the cat's called Gideon.