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Sam Taylor Wood’s first full-length feature film tells the story of John Lennon’s teenage years. The events took place only a kilometre from my home at the time, so they hold a special fascination for me. But whether or not you were alive in the 1950’s, and regardless of where in the world you may be living now, Lennon’s childhood experiences have – indirectly – affected you.
The film ends as he is preparing to go to Hamburg, and The Beatles are not mentioned by name, but they were about to shake the world in ways which nobody at the time could have foreseen. The credits soundtrack is Lennon’s Mother, an anguished elegy for his mum Julia. Her virtual abandonment of him caused so much pain, undoubtedly shaped his personality and – crucially – influenced his writing and his music. Perhaps this was the grit in the oyster, helping to produce the pearls which are the songs of Lennon and McCartney.
Of course it’s impossible to imagine how the world would look now if it hadn’t been for the impact of The Beatles. But whether you listen to their music or not, they were prime movers in a post-war revolution which changed Western society and the way we think about ourselves.
The film contained one or two anachronisms. Too much cigarette smoking, even for the 1950’s. Modern beer glasses, the word ‘band’ instead of ‘group’, and I don’t think ‘gig’ was in common usage. Also, before the sexual revolution, girls didn’t fuck boys, boys fucked girls. Some characters are completely omitted from the story.
However, Nowhere Boy does not try to be a completely faithful historical account. The actors are not made up to be look-alikes, and the locations are sympathetic rather than accurate replicas. This is an intelligent approach which works well, and avoids over-detailing which is inevitably distracting.
There are so many pitfalls when making a biopic, but Nowhere Boy avoids all of them. It’s incredibly moving, with an accomplished performance by Aaron Johnson as Lennon, and Kristin Scott Thomas as his somewhat repressed aunt Mimi. Anne-Marie Duff’s portrayal of the histrionic Julia Lennon, and David Morrissey’s Bobby Dykins are note-perfect too. A little gem of a film.
I had my doubts when we booked tickets for the matinee performance on New Year’s Day. Not doubts about the show per se – the Library is consistently good – but about the actors’ ability to turn up for work after partying the night away.
So when the Tannoy in the foyer announced that the show would start half an hour late due to ‘technical difficulties’ I was not completely surprised. That would be the technical difficulty of ringing one or more absent cast members and persuading them that with enough strong coffee and paracetamol they would be able to get through the performance, and that remaining in bed would be a career-limiting decision.
Once it started, some 45 minutes late, the show was a gem. The multi-talented cast were all bright-eyed and the clever set looked like an illustration from a children’s fairy tale book. The production was pacy, fun and imaginative.
The Library Theatre is moving this year after nearly half a century located in the basement of the library. I just hope that they manage to keep doing what they do with the same sparkle in their new venue.
I had thought that a running time of 162 minutes would prove to be too much, but James Cameron’s new film is awesome and spellbinding from the first to last moment.
The story line is an uncomplicated allegory, but its simplicity is more than made up for in the incredible visual detail and chest-thumping soundtrack which draw the audience into a quality and richness of experience which is delightful, exciting, at times moving, and stunning throughout.
Who could reasonably ask for more in a movie? A 10/10 rating from me.
It’s a play about contacting those who have ‘passed over’, but this production manages to suck all the life out of Coward’s farce and spit out a lifeless corpse. At the Royal Exchange I have sometimes felt detached when watching from seats high up in the auditorium, but even after we moved to the stalls at the interval I literally nodded off despite being a few metres from the action.
I say action, but actor Milo Twomey as Mr Condomine chooses to deliver his lines like a sergeant major – arms by his sides and rooted to the spot most of the time. On the other hand, the maid’s part was over-acted to the point of annoyance. Annette Badland as eccentric medium Madame Arcati shows how it should be done, although her diction was a little indistinct towards the end – a fault which fellow Coronation Street actor Suranne Jones displayed from time to time as Mrs Condomine.
One turkey to avoid this Christmas.
On 31 October 2003 I was one of 10,000 spectators who waited patiently in the cold at Manchester Airport to watch Concorde G-BOAC land for the very last time.
Today I went on a Technical Tour of that same aeroplane which, after five years standing out in the open, is now housed in the Concorde Centre. (Whilst this purpose built hangar protects the iconic plane from the wind and rain, it is unheated. The seven of us on our tour were bitterly cold for most of the 90 minute experience. If you are considering a tour, wait until spring!)
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You know how it is. You are trying to watch TV, but there’s a car alarm going off outside. Try as you might, you can’t ignore it. Your viewing is spoiled.
It’s the same with Lone Scherfig’s An Education except it comes with its own built-in annoying, insistent wee waah: ‘She’s too old for the part … She’s too old for the part … She’s too old for the part …’
Carey Mulligan is seven years older than her character. Now, seven years might be close enough not to matter when playing a mature adult, but Jenny is supposed to be 16. And Mulligan is just not a convincing teenage schoolgirl.
There are many other irritations besides this mis-casting. Peter Sarsgaard plays David. He’s supposed to be a suave, manipulative older man. Trouble is, there’s no grit, no edge, no menace. David and Jenny just moon at each other like they are the same age, and such is the softness of his demeanour, it is hard to accept that this man is a self-serving immoral (heterosexual) hedonist.
The period detailing is good (the film is set in the early 1960’s) but it is too flat, lacking depth and dramatic involvement, and is over-long.
I am not a big fan of Roald Dahl, but – thanks largely to the talents of Johnny Depp – I did enjoy Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
So I went to see Fantastic Mr. Fox tonight partly on the strength of that experience, and partly because it features so many A-list voiceovers.
The trouble is,
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Steve Earle played the Bridgewater Hall tonight as part of his Townes tour, just him and acoustic guitar. At first I was disappointed that there was no backing band but his energetic playing and big personality filled the auditorium.
The guy clearly idolises his late friend and mentor Townes Van Zandt – with whom he shares some pretty self-destructive traits – and most of the set was devoted to him. Between songs Earle shared his refreshingly liberal political views and gave the audience a glimpse of his wayward past – heroin addict, alcoholic, jaibird.
A great evening, but what Hallé conductor Sir John Barbirolli would have made of this troubled troubador playing here I cannot say.
It looks like Manchester’s Urbis gallery might become the home of a National Football Museum instead.
Good. Not that I have any appreciation of the game. I watch a football match on TV with the same level of comprehension as our cat. We can both see coloured shapes moving around on the screen but that’s about it. But Urbis has been a white elephant from the start.
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 Sometimes, you have all the ingredients needed to bake a cake, but the cake turns out disappointing. In the case of “The Boat That Rocked” there were plenty of first-rate ingredients – interesting story, talented writer, a whole cast of seasoned players. Alas, the movie they made is a tedious mess with the inclusion of a few unpalatable bits you would prefer not to swallow.
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