Over the last few weeks I watched short segments of the TV series The Slap. They were short bits that I watched, so don’t take my observations as too factual or writ in cement, more like cast in yoghurt. Take what you like and chuck the rest.
Yesterday, with all the turmoil on the Inebriates and their Bleached Bones etc, Helvi and I went to see Woody Allen’s ‘Midnight in Paris’ here in Bowral. The difference between the two films could not be starker. I don’t know about you but I find watching The Slap almost unbearable. The negativity is just seeping out from almost every sequence. One can’t fault the acting, the filming and the expert casting, or indeed the story which is based on the book by Christos Tsiolkas… I am usual the first one to admit that the ‘art of things’ is what matters almost more than the technique or even the story. If it works it works, is my motto. The Slap works in the sense of a well made series, well acted but the unrelenting emptiness of the couples lives just spoils it for me. Too depressing!
The main character, the slapper, the son of Greek parents, is just about the pits. He seems to go through life between short bursts of ejaculating around the place and walks to the fridge grabbing a beer. All is enjoyed with the minimum of care or pleasure. He cuts an apple with utter contempt. He chucks his mobile phone about. He struts around his pool and house which would have to be the ultimate in hideous empty totally impersonal architecture. He runs a business whereby his only involvement seems to be the money. His son, a sad boy, whereby at one segment is seen to watch with his brutal father some segment of music with gyrating hip swinging female hopping dancers. Before that he watched his mother being brutalised by his father.
The only people who seemed to have some humanity about are the Greek parents and to some extent, the breast feeding mother of the slapped kid and her partner. (I even saw some books in their poor little house.) I remember the ABC making good TV, especially comedy. What with that silly Julia series and now the Slap. What’s cooking next?
Compare this with Woody Allen’s Midnight in Paris. Well, there is no comparison. We walked out jubilant. What a lovely story. The wife of the French president, Carla Bruni, is stunning as a tourist guide doing the rounds through Le Louvre or was it The Jardin the Versailles? The main character is forced to face the shortcomings of his shopping addicted American wife and their divergent aims. No matter how Woody Allen faces the cynicisms of the world he lives, his rather disappointing and glum view of so much of the culture he was born into, he dresses them up in artistry and above all humour. He gave us (and still is giving) wonderful films. I liked his “ not only do I not believe in a God, but try and get a plumber on a Sunday!.
Window Dresser's Arms, Pig & Whistle 
Personally Gerard, you make things up every time your fart, which is a lot
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From a little book, that I just found. I bought it in The UK.
Xmas 2003 Shanklin, I’ve written inside…It says. .Essentials Poems for Britain (and the way we live now).
Thomas Hardy , Philip Larkin, Robert Browning, Shakespeare and Hillair Belloc, feature. Not to mention Kipling, Coward & Carrol.
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That was supposed to go under Pam Ayres, part-poem.
Anyways–here’s another:
I knew young fellow from Kings,
who cared not for whores and such things.
His height of desire,
Was a boy from the choir,
With a bum like a jelly on springs.
Anonymous…Thank gawd.
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Ato:
I am not sure about the dentist as the preferred choice to seeing Slap. If someone is going to poke around in my body, I would prefer a colonoscopy. Still, it’s really personal choice, I suppose.
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Buggering a tooth or buggering a colon?
You’re right. It’s a matter of personal preference, Gez.
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Interesting commentary Gez.
I have a policy which says “If they advertise the crap out of anything, it must be rubbish”. And I can see that this policy has served me well with “The Slap”. I thought it was a stupid premise for a drama in the first place. These days, people are churlish about belting their own kids in the privacy of home – let alone someone else’s kid in public. Get sued etc etc. Boring and stupid – also unrelentingly negative I see.
FM and I saw “Midnight in Paris” on the weekend. While it lacked the drive of “Vicky, Christina Barcelona”, it was charming and entertaining – but derivative if you’ve seen most of Woody’s previous works – say Fog and Mirrors, Purple Rose of Cairo. Owen Wilson played a convincing Woody Allen – and while the famous characters were amusing in their likenesses, Dali was hilarious, but Pablo Picasso was thin – appearances more than acting ability seemed to drive the casting.
The consumerist parents and wife were classic stereotypes – and Wilson as the troubled screenwriter spoke lines that were often pure Woody Allen.
But Paris – as gorgeous as always. I’d give it 3 1/2 stars.
I went alone to TT 3D – the Isle of Man TT Motorcycle Movie. FM wisely stayed home. It was a good movie for bike riders (when a guy came over a hill at speed and the bike went into a monster tank slapper, all the riders in the audience crossed their legs because they were feeling the pain in advance). The movie has an infuriating eccentric rogue lead character with mixed luck. And while the advertising review said that it was so real in 3D that you can almost smell the tarmac under your seat – I disagree – you can’t – and I had to work hard to imagine the smell of racing fuel (aside – if you go to the bike races the smell of racing fuel reminds me of the excitement of speed and the sweetness of glory in much the same way as Chanel touches the senses of romantics). All up, I give it 3 stars for bike people and 2 stars for mortals.
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Yes, I agree the Purple Rose of Cairo and many of his earlier movies were better, but after the Inebriates kerfuffle, anything moving on a screen would have been seen by me as works of genius. I was so happy for Wilson to meet that lovely girl who sold him the music earlier on. There is nothing like a happy ending, don’t you reckon?
a propos your 3d bike movie, I saw a very new and bright red Ducati yesterday. Was it yours?
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Thanks, Emmjay, hadn’t heard of TT, but, the IOM was legendary, when I was a kid. The cinema could have provided ‘smellovision’ by heating some racing oil somewhere off stage. MMMmm…red Ducatis. My eldest is trying to persuade me to buy a new Diavel. Yes, it’s a cruiser, yes it’s big and laid back, no it’s not bloated and over-weight like a Harley, plus it’s a thing of pure erotic beauty, like a naked woman, only sexier!
I’ll dream on.
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It’s a competition between a Duke Monster and a Guzzi V70 or maybe a Mid size BM roady. All these have fairly upright riding positions – so too does the Duke Multi-strada – looks a bit bizarre but appraently is really nice handling around city traffic – as well as off-roadable.
But the good news is that I gave Gowanloch’s the go-ahead on finishing the renos of my 1980 Pantah 500. And FM helped me buy a lovely retro-looking Dainese jacket and some Draggin Kevlar-reinforced jeans…. and an Arai full-face helmet.
I went to Stay Upright for my first session of practice rides for returning old farts. Looking forward to a bit of real road practice and the second intermediate session – a whole day at Eastern Creek.
Just waiting for the duke to be finished, get the blue slip and re-register the baby. Some photos and a story in the pipes.
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The Guzzis are lovely, but the local dealer has given up on them, and Aprillia, as the company that supply spares are inept (as in bike off the road for four months waiting for a $40 part that could have been sourced straight from Italy).
The 650 and 800cc Beemers have Rotax engines and run belt drive, which I quite like.
I’m sure it will be lovely to have the old Pantah ready to do battle.
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There is another TT at Assen. Here from Wiki. (factual)
The TT Circuit Assen is a motorsport race track built in 1955 and located in Assen, Netherlands. Host of the Dutch TT race, it is considered “The Cathedral” of motorcycling by the fans. It has a capacity of 100,000 spectators, including 60,000 seats. Since 1992 it is also part of the Superbike World Championship calendar.[
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Have to confess to being away from observing bike racing for a long time. I suppose the Dutch would be less superstitious than the Manx, with their deference to the fairy folk, and so on.
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Yes Dutchmen like anything in Lycra
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MMmm…lycra.
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Glad you did this, Gez and not I!
I gave the Slap the Thyestes treatment, ie, I walked out of it no longer than 15 minutes after curtains. Did the same with the book, as I’ve mentioned elsewhere. I watched until the “slapper” was masturbating naked. I already had an uneasy feeling about it, like one heading for the dentist’s chair; but I thought, perhaps, just perhaps, the ABC will iron out idiotic and unnecessary scenes like this and the film would be bearable. It wasn’t for me and I’m glad others also think so.
Then, on other nights, in the process of surfing the channels fell upon it again and again, similar sort of scenes, one even more unwatchable than the first. It felt very much as if one was watching porn and I have nothing but hateful disdain for that sort of contrivance.
I need not see -and directors, producers and writers need not create- scenes that show human at their most basic functions.I shrink when I see scenes set in dunnies. People sitting on them, people urinating, people talking in there. I see this as a flag waved by the director, which symbolises the lack of imagination. Like vacuous dialogue, such scenes are also vacuous, signaling a dearth of thought. They are not necessary and they add nothing but a feeling of discomfort. Could be my age but I feel I no longer have the stomach for these sorts of scenes and for this sort of obvious crassness.
So, I’m with you, Gez. I’d rather go to the dentist than go on watching this bit of crap.
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So I lay in the old dentist’s chair,
And I gaze up his nose in despair,
And his drill it do whine,
In these molars of mine,
“Two amalgum,” he’ll say, “for in there.”
How I laughed at my Mother’s false teeth,
As they foamed in the waters beneath,
But now comes the reckonin’
It’s me they are beckonin’
Oh, I wish I’d looked after me teeth.
Pam Ayers
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Grew up on Pam Ayres
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An ode to a deep, dark and brooding subject by Tom Brody.
To get some insight into one’s anatomy,
Nothing beats a colonoscopy.
If beauty, in fact, is only skin deep,
Then peering into a bowel is a profounder leap.
What in the world will that scope reveal
About a man who’s had so much to conceal?
A man who has gone at times astray
Has much on his mind that he’ll want to allay.
A priest is fine for a soul that’s wavered
But give me a proctologist if I want to be saved.
No doubt the pit beckons for want of redemption,
But I’ll settle for ridding my tract of infection.
——————————————————————————–
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Although Doc Martin did a scrote check in the dunnies, last episode.
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That’s just NOT FAIR!
The copper made him do it!
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Copper is a very powerful conductor
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Yes, and like you I believe everything I see on television
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Who wouldn’t want a free scrote check??
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