A day of disappointments. Firstly, went to see
Morvern Callar this evening. Expected if not great, at least good things, and came away bitterly disappointed. It just seemed to completely miss the whole feel of the book, and whilst I’m not one for expecting films to slavishly follow a book’s form I do at least expect them to make something precious and new from their own form. Instead the movie of
Morvern Callar is just interminably dull, rescued only in the final minute or two by the glorious Mamas and Papas’ ‘Dedicated to the One I Love’ soundtracking a fine strobe club scene. This, and this alone, gave me a shiver down the spine akin to that moment when ‘Do You Believe In Magic?’ comes in during
I Shot Andy Warhol. Whatever. It seemed to me that the novel
Morvern Callar was quite specifically about time and place (late ‘80s Ibiza and the E-generation before it all went pear shaped and corporate) and that was what made it work so well. The movie instead doesn’t seem to be about much at all… a wasted opportunity.
Second disappointment: reading Ed Brubaker’s
A Complete Lowlife and ditching it half way through. Irritating artwork and even more irritating characters and plots… grrrr. For me it highlights the very worst of that whole ‘slacker’ Gen-X thing of the ‘90s; the missing of the points of, say, Linklater’s movie or Coupland’s great novel and with a focus instead on distasteful, dysfunctional losers with whom you feel no sympathy or empathy. Brubaker’s characters are aimless and lifeless, adrift in a sea of self-pity, saying nothing at all of any consequence and doing even less. I’m hoping that Adrian Tomine, whose
Sleepwalk I am starting tonight, can offer me more…
Disappointment three: the democratisation of decisions about interior design. In other words, people with no training or experience in visual matters taking those matters into their own hands and effectively saying they neither trust nor value the judgments made by qualified professionals. But I guess that’s the culture we live within; lowest common denominator and all that crap. It’s just depressing when you’re reminded of it so forcefully is all.
posted by duke harringay at 8:26 PM
A day of disappointments. Firstly, went to see
Morvern Callar this evening. Expected if not great, at least good things, and came away bitterly disappointed. It just seemed to completely miss the whole feel of the book, and whilst I’m not one for expecting films to slavishly follow a book’s form I do at least expect them to make something precious and new from their own form. Instead the movie of
Morvern Callar is just interminably dull, rescued only in the final minute or two by the glorious Mamas and Papas’ ‘Dedicated to the One I Love’ soundtracking a fine strobe club scene. This, and this alone, gave me a shiver down the spine akin to that moment when ‘Do You Believe In Magic?’ comes in during
I Shot Andy Warhol. Whatever. It seemed to me that the novel
Morvern Callar was quite specifically about time and place (late ‘80s Ibiza and the E-generation before it all went pear shaped and corporate) and that was what made it work so well. The movie instead doesn’t seem to be about much at all… a wasted opportunity.
Second disappointment: reading Ed Brubaker’s
A Complete Lowlife and ditching it half way through. Irritating artwork and even more irritating characters and plots… grrrr. For me it highlights the very worst of that whole ‘slacker’ Gen-X thing of the ‘90s; the missing of the points of, say, Linklater’s movie or Coupland’s great novel and with a focus instead on distasteful, dysfunctional losers with whom you feel no sympathy or empathy. Brubaker’s characters are aimless and lifeless, adrift in a sea of self-pity, saying nothing at all of any consequence and doing even less. I’m hoping that Adrian Tomine, whose
Sleepwalk I am starting tonight, can offer me more…
Disappointment three: the democratisation of decisions about interior design. In other words, people with no training or experience in visual matters taking those matters into their own hands and effectively saying they neither trust nor value the judgments made by qualified professionals. But I guess that’s the culture we live within; lowest common denominator and all that crap. It’s just depressing when you’re reminded of it so forcefully is all.
posted by duke harringay at 8:26 PM
Started drawing again today. First time in a long time, and spurred on by fragments of inspiration colliding into a momentary flash of impetus. Notably: reaching the closing stages of The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay; getting my copy of Ghost World back at last from school colleague (last time I saw it was several weeks before the end of the summer term…); various comic books and graphic novels littering up the attic, teasing my pencil and pen… and finally the great Photobooth book recently published by the Princeton Architectural Press, a book which today then acted as source material for first forays into sketchy portraits in new notebook. The day’s lessons then proceeded as one eye on the class and one eye on the sketchbook… a lot of fun. Later sat in the school hall invigilating mock GCSE exam in German quickly drawing the scene and wondering why I ever stopped drawing in the first place. Later still, with the rain pattering on the rooflight window (blind drawn over) above me, discovering once again the difficulties of capturing the essence of a face last seen three years ago and whose imprint is distressingly faded. All that’s left to remind the heart, and indeed the pencil hand, a single photograph slipped into the last page of an album full of memories, under which is pasted a slip of paper with the peculiar orange and blue felt tip message ‘girl power’.
posted by duke harringay at 8:45 PM
Started drawing again today. First time in a long time, and spurred on by fragments of inspiration colliding into a momentary flash of impetus. Notably: reaching the closing stages of The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay; getting my copy of Ghost World back at last from school colleague (last time I saw it was several weeks before the end of the summer term…); various comic books and graphic novels littering up the attic, teasing my pencil and pen… and finally the great Photobooth book recently published by the Princeton Architectural Press, a book which today then acted as source material for first forays into sketchy portraits in new notebook. The day’s lessons then proceeded as one eye on the class and one eye on the sketchbook… a lot of fun. Later sat in the school hall invigilating mock GCSE exam in German quickly drawing the scene and wondering why I ever stopped drawing in the first place. Later still, with the rain pattering on the rooflight window (blind drawn over) above me, discovering once again the difficulties of capturing the essence of a face last seen three years ago and whose imprint is distressingly faded. All that’s left to remind the heart, and indeed the pencil hand, a single photograph slipped into the last page of an album full of memories, under which is pasted a slip of paper with the peculiar orange and blue felt tip message ‘girl power’.
posted by duke harringay at 8:45 PM 