Croakcaine

Provided as part of a column piece for my trainee journalism course (this bonus addition contains features unseen in the original):

           Public discourse over the use of cocaine hit a peak this week, as reports suggested that the UK’s crave for the class A may soon die down. Consumption has peaked as purity drops close to 30% and prices bump up just shy of £70 per gram. Alongside these figures, a plummet in the use of tobacco and cannabis amongst schoolchildren has made reliable evidence to support Britain’s fight against narcotics. 

            This type of bean counting may assuage concerns that we have become a society lost to intoxicants but there has been little worthwhile discussion recently regarding current UK drug policy. MPs continue to bicker over whether legalisation provides a valid alternative as has been seen in Portugal and certain parts of the U.S. Conservative party members in particular remain determined to oppose any type of move toward a free market approach– when quizzed recently by the Daily Mail over whether backbenchers would support more leniency, Charles Walker MP made the erudite evaluation that: “drugs kill people, so they should not be legal.” 

Charles Walker - Buzzin'

         In turn, dealers attempting to circumvent classification laws are now reportedly resorting to selling unmarked powders on the street known as “bubble” which invite users to take even more risks than ever before.

            As the Home Secretary faces fresh criticism for allegedly manipulating drug-seizure figures, perhaps now is the time to reconsider our outlook on the culture as a whole. If politicians remain stubborn towards de-criminalization, it might only unleash a far more subversive menace.

The Road: Film in the Gaps

           Not wishing to appear irrelevant but a review of a novel from 2006 and a film from 2008 is just that. An earnest compare 'n' contrast piece on one of the finest books I've ever read and it's cinematic counterpart.

                Cormac McCarthy’s "The Road" sits amongst a canon of Armageddon science fiction that uses it’s setting as an empty stage for its heroes. Crucially, the world the author sets The Road in is not one of growth. For as far as we can see, fire has destroyed the living and continues to isolate the remnants of society. McCarthy describes neither the circumstances of this destruction or any lessons learnt from it. Instead the novel’s two protagonists, known loosely as Man and Boy, are the lone guiding light through this wizened and charred landscape.  Their relationship blossoms in spite of their desperate circumstances, as they head towards the sea and perhaps a simpler life.


                The audience roots for this delicate bond to survive the perils of poverty and cannibalism and that the resilience of their struggle might bring back their old world. The road they walk is a Conradesque allegory exploring the winding depths of morality the characters are plunged into; a unique set of physical and theological challenges they must succumb to or overcome.  Perhaps the pace of this journey is set by a man who is taking the time to question the decision he’s made throughout his life. In this scenario The Road may have been McCarthy’s cruel and charred path through life but the Boy keeps him journeying towards a salvation that he has not met. Whilst McCarthy paints a world that’s rotten and burnt, the steady pace of the father son story balances the gloominess, inspiring (or manipulating) you to believe that these two characters can find a safe home.

                By comparison, John Hillcott’s The Proposition makes a likely pairing with subject material of The Road. Both are framed against barren environments littered with vicious gangs and inhospitable terrain. Both join a protagonist battling between what they must do to live and the bonds of blood they are shackled to. Hillcott took the task of transforming The Proposition intensely harrowing story into something a film with bewitching beauty and a dim glimmer of optimism throughout.


                Hilcott still had to make the central relationship as convincing and intricate on screen as it McCarthy had done through the thoughts and mediations of Man and Boy. Viggo Mortensen has perfected the act of playing “the man with no name” in Eastern Promises and A History of Violence. His sunken, defeated expression and a shaky, wandering gaze throughout the film allows the few moments where he can sit and talk in comfort with Boy to be so tender.


                The narrative direction does change dramatically in the film, drawing focus to the marriage of Man and his wife before the end of their world. These scenes offer us context to understand Man’s reluctance to give in to the elements but it does suggest his struggle is a fight against his past and not one to protect Boy. In addition, the design, direction and choreography of the larger set pieces (the basement, the bunker) are thrilling but the quieter moments of theology and interaction between Man, Boy and the other travellers are dealt with rapidly and without reappraisal. In the novel, these rare glimpses of a wider society allow McCarthy to widen and shrink the gap between the two protagonists yet this remains overlooked in the film.
 

      
           The cinematography does manage to capture McCarthy’s vision of a scolding red sky and dim grey daylight; the ominous mountainous valleys the characters edge through makes their progress seem meagre. Long time Hillcott collaborator, Nick Cave, joins Warren Ellis to score the soundtrack which lulls from simple piano inerludes to the groaning of a string quartet. This is where the film succeeds; encapsulating a sense of a cruel desertion and dread that’s mirrored by the strength of Man and Boy’s affection (exemplified by Mortensen  and McPhee’s performances).

      
           At its heart, the novel is a symbolic treatise of a man’s worth in the tough guy tradition of Ernest Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea. As such, the film could not have matched the melancholic rhythm of the novel without boring it's audience. Nonetheless the speed at which The Road has to move as a film, leaves it at odds with that graceful flow of its counterpart, stumbling a few steps behind.

Love Letters Straight From Your Heart

Having just purchased The Straight Story and spending this evening listening to Angelo Badalamenti on repeat, I found no better excuse to post a personal profile of David Lynch that I wrote a while ago . I think about this sensational human being for 20% of my day, each day.

                “A swathe of curled black hair, a veil of cigarette smoke, pulling a pensive frown or an impish grin; perhaps the reason that David Lynch is seen as such a fine director is that he paints himself with the same nervous energy as his most famous characters. There’s more than a touch of madness to his craft and his films can be as disturbing as they are entrancing. His tight control of the camera and his pastiche style are the guardrails you hold on to as Lynch walks you through his murky yet dazzling world.
                His debut, Eraserhead, despite being over two decades old, remains as achingly complex and uniquely terrifying today as it was on its release. Eraserhead’s foundations would lead him to direct modern classics like Mullholland Drive, Inland Empire & Blue Velvet. Lynch often describes the development of his art like fishing; a patient, quiet process where magic springs at you in the blink of an eye. His films arguably mirror his thinking too. In a solemn, grey sea, Lynch is the Blue Marlin thrashing against the waves; a rare, inspiring flash of brilliance that will set your sails in its pursuit, like Ahab for his whale.”

 

Neo "Noire"

There's been a great deal of press coverage about attempting to define what L.A. Noire is. Released by Rockstar and following the tremendous Red Dead Redemption, L.A. Noire reaches deep into the language of film noir and noir literature.

It highlights what up until now has been "the shame of gaming". No matter how far an enthusiast would argue that gaming is digital art, offering an immersive experience far beyond (or at least different to) the realm of novels or cinema, publishers and artists have taken little time to make games beautiful or inspiring. Earnest discussion about why this hasn't been worked towards as goal for industry has in part created some of the most widely praised independent games of the past decade (Braid, Minecraft, Limbo, Amnesia, And Yet It Moves).



L.A. Noire is no doubt the most expensive attempt at cornering this market of "quality gaming" which seems a bit of a fallacy. By making exception to the fact that L.A. Noire is a remarkable acheivement simply for being intelligent you in turn dismiss video games as a medium of doltish, low brow culture. Unfortunately, there is a broad dirth of content that is vapid, sour, offensive, bland and, most importantly, willfully moronic without a touch of irony.



















This perception shouldn't limit your medium's potential and this is exactly what L.A. Noire overcomes. It has a far greater appeal by presenting a video game as a framework to hang a set of artistic ideals and unique storytelling principles from. Whilst the breakthroughs in hardware and technical performance have catapulted forward what the industry can do in terms of raw power, it's taken longer for us to discuss what you can do with a narrative when you control the pacing.

L.A. Noire never in fact felt like a video game. Performances from Aaron Staton, Adam Harrington & Andrew Connolly were brought alive by motion capture and harnessed with a bleak and layered storyline. Cinematic as it may be the ability to direct those people you empathised with and believed in helped further explore the depths of guilt, anxiety and judgement that those characters felt. If you failed to bring a case in or stepped out of line, it's the audience that's made to feel ashamed of their decisions. I wouldn't suggest that the opportunity to feel worse coming away from L.A. Noire is something to look forward to but the lingering attachment to what you have just been a part of  is a hallmark of any truly immersive and brilliant art. It's a testament to not only what the designers and developers should be aiming towards but it also addresses to what purpose games exist.

Leaning on Jesus

A short post to describe one of the finest films I've ever seen. Night of the Hunter, starring Robert Mitchum and based on the David Grubb novel, it is in equal measure terrifying, wild, murky and enchanting. The story follows two children pursued by a villanious preacher man, who looks set to steal the money that their father robbed before he got thrown in the can. The film is at times a chase thriller and proto horror whilst also a debate of how one seperates religious devotion from cult worship. Robert Mitchum's Rev Harry Powell quotes scripture and gospel with a bellowing solemnity but his eyes, wide and motionless, reveal his empty pleas as false. He is a complex and haunting presence, more a hypnotist than a healer.



The cinematography and direction traces a blood line from Lynch style noir. Wide pan shots of angular rooms & dark vistas, the eery tension of a wholesome town dismantled by a lurking demon and an entire cast of characters that teeter on the brink of madness - it will strike a chord with fans of Inland Empire and Eraserhead.



 Mesmeric in so much as you're never quite sure what you're seeing is real, especially given how modern the film was and still is;  it's a crying shame as well that child performances have rarely matched the quality of Sally Jane Bruce and Billy Chapin either. A dominating, shocking and gorgeous film.



Thanks Katie

"I don't want no sugar in my coffee"

Watching No Direction Home for the first time yesterday, I was struck by a reworking of an old blues song "Bald Headed Woman" by Harry Belafonte. Belafonte was a huge star during the late fifties and early sixties, with songs like Day-O and Island in the Sun.

 Belafonte has been seen more recently promoting a new film that charts his career and perhaps more importantly, his voice in the civil rights movement. Currently premiering at festivals across the U.S the film follows the journey he took to become an artist in his own right instead of a "black performer".



Filled with rare stock footage, interviews and performances, Sing Your Song looks set to highlight the showmanship and struggle of this fantastic musician. In the meantime, please follow the link for Bald Headed Woman. A penetrating, abstract take on chain gang melodies; Belafonte's baritone here is a striking example of his artistic versatility and a microcosm of his quiet brilliance. Much like his politics, when this guy pounced, he'd take the crowd down with him

Harry Belafonte – Bald Headed Woman

Insert Disc

                          Having recently burnt another several days away playing computer games, I decided it was time to expand my free time towards something more constructive. I'm an avid writer and the fear of missing usually throws me into action. Articles are written, published and begin to relax. However, when given time to myself and with no routine or pressing engagement, I mess around. I walk in circles, I lose my focus and I game. If it hadn't had been for writing, I'd be drowning  under a pile of cartridges and controllers; my vision twisted from hours of pixellated bliss.

                  This isn't something to be ashamed of  but it's time to get real. I'll have turned 23 by Wednesday and a demon's telling me that if I don't do something about my default obsession with home consoles, my only personal development would be my high scores.

              In an effort to combat this, Time To Groan was created. I haven't made any decisions about what to write about, or who to write for so this will mostly be made up of collected opinions, rants and streams of consciousness for the time being. I hope you'll take my hand as we try to find a voice in this Time to Groan.