Music: Green Man Festival 2010 - The Greenies

With a sad look on my face I returned from wet and wonderful Wales, and from the Green Man festival. It was my virgin visit to said fest, which had arguably the most premier of all the line-ups of the year, depending on your taste. Joanna Newsom, The Flaming Lips and Doves were the headline acts, but for me it was further down the bill, and on the other stages, where my weekend was made.

In honor of this great coming together of music and idiots (myself included), and to recognise those acts that put the cheese on my cracker, I have forged an illegal awards ceremony (keep it shtoom) called, simply, The Greenies. Henceforth come the guests...RELEASE THE DOVES (this ceremony is brought to you by John Woo)...


1) THE JESUS QUINTANA AWARD FOR BEST ENTRANCE...
...has to go to THE FLAMING LIPS, who made the effort to emerge onstage from a fifteen foot high projected image of a light-emitting woman's love cave. As the dancing beauty, all neon green and pink and shapely, lay on her back and spread 'em, the musicians strolled out of a strategicaly placed door and down a ramp to take their positions. Then Wayne Coyne, frontman of choice for many a pant-wetting muso (put him next to Thom Yorke and that's 500 million copies of Q magazine shifted right there), rose from the floor into an inflating zorb/spaceball and rolled his way over the crowd before setting off the confetti cans and releasing the giant balloons. Not something he hasn't done before, but damn does it kick things off right!

2) THE NAPOLEAN DYNAMITE AWARD FOR BEST ONSTAGE DANCEMOVES...
...is given to DARWIN DEEZ and his band of wigglers and jigglers who, inbetween almost every number, wandered into formation at the front of the stage (the poor drummer was up and down like Paris Hilton's knickers) and whipped out some quite unexpectedly brilliant shapes to eighties classics and disco beats. Highlights included a bop to "Do The Bartman" and a slide to "Single Ladies". There was also a strange, slightly fascist, crowd participation session involving fist-raising. It could have gone horribly wrong, all of it, but in the end it was very tongue-in-cheek, and a giggle.

3) THE JOE PASQUALE FALSETTO PERFORMANCE AWARD...
...could easily have gone to the most wonderful, beautiful, slightly unhinged Joanna Newsom, and the judges had some very strong words with each other about this one (I was outside but I heard "twazzock", and I don't want to name names but Keith, if you're reading this, totally uncalled for), but after the dust settled it was decided that the mighty WILD BEASTS are deserving of this high-pitched accolade because of their ability to provide not one but two lead vocalists with the ability to sing like their nuts are in a particularly tight vice. Hayden Thorpe and Tom Fleming, here's to you. May your skill in hitting the high notes remain unharmed and intact. Love you both.

4) THE GERMAINE GREER "CHEER UP LOVE" AWARD FOR TAKING EVERYTHING TOO SERIOUSLY...
...is being fought for by a number of acts who took to the stage as if they'd just been given some horrible news. These New Puritans' frontman Jack Barnett was a veritable whirlwind of mono-syllabic self-importance, and Laura Marling, though a stunning talent, could really do with a good tickle. But the award this time goes to JOHNNY FLYNN, who played a set in which his very brilliant songs were undermined by a look on his face that would make kittens cry. Maybe he thought he was auditioning for the new Michael Haneke movie. Who knows. We found him later on watching a band with his family, and we congratulated him on his performance before very politely asking for a picture. His reply was "seriously?". Then we took it and he left sharpish. Can't wait to get that cracker back from Boots...CHEER UP JOHNNY. WATCH SOME PYTHON FOR FUCKS SAKE.

5) THE MOTHER BROWN AWARD FOR BEST KNEES UP (IN ASSOCIATION WITH BANJOS)...
...goes to the loveable MEGAFAUN, whose humble and goofy nature was accompanied by some serious hoe-down fun of the most enjoyable kind. Banjos ripped, voices whooped and hollered and arms went into the air as they stormed the stage for their forty five minutes. Mumford and Sons were similarly raucous, and drew probably the biggest crowd of the weekend for their main stage party, and various acts in the Chai Wallah tent brought their horn sections and trilbies along for the ska party, most notably the Sheelanigans, who were Irish and Yiddish in equal measure and a thrill to behold, but Megafaun were a band whom, by the end of their set, had every single person in the tent chanting and stamping like possessed Carolinian believers. They also brought Tallest Man On Earth onstage for a number by inviting "all of our friends back their, or anyone who fancies, to come sing it with us". Joyful.

6) THE CHIROPRACTORS ASSOCIATION AWARD FOR SERVICES TO SPINE-TINGLING...
...is going to leave Mumford and Sons empty-handed once again I'm afraid, though they ran a good race by defying the success-hating music nazis and providing a fair few moments of touching togetherness in the crowd. Fanfarlo as well did their best to emulate The Arcade Fire and soar over the soggy fields. A few goosebumps were delivered all across the line up in fact, with The Flaming Lips triumphant "Do You Realise?" and the first few notes of Joanna Newsom's encore of "Peach, Plum, Pear" causing the audience to collectively hold on to each to, like, feel the love. But for me, above all else, it was the majestically euphoric set by BEIRUT that brought the hairs on almost every part of my body to stand up, and in particular the wave of horns and harmonies of "Cherbourg", and the anthemic and apt chorus of "I will lead the way, oh, lead the way, when I know" that brings the song to a close. Everything went a bit hazey round about that bit. Could've been the continuing flow of Aspalls cider in my veins. Maybe a bit of both.

7) THE ROYAL VARIETY GENERALISED ENTERTAINMENT AWARD...
...is intended to recognise the achievement of something or someone at the festival that wasn't performing on a stage but that still provided the weekend with precious entertainment. This year there were many, many contenders for the honour. Alcohol is, as ever, a serious contender, as is the mud and of course the hills, and when the three combined we were witness to some tumbles worthy of an olympic diving medal. But this year a major upset has been caused by the sudden storming to the title of THE CHILDREN. Usually noisy, intrusive, and unwelcome wherever there's booze and swearing, this year the children provided endless entertainment, whether it was spontaneous games of cricket outside the second stage that drew crowds of hundreds in quick time to cheer and sing and call for referrals, being so desperate for empty cups to take to the bar in return for cash that they could bribed into impersonating Alan Shearer and his now legendary celebration, or even allowing one certain chap to borrow their diablo (a toy filed next to fire poy and cocktail juggling as a sure fire route to being a wanker) and then attempt a trick that resulted in the same child being hit in the face by the silly plastic peanut-looking. For all these reasons, children have taken the award, and good luck to you all. Now go Shearer to the end of room and back for this half drunk lager. There's a good plaything.


Well that's it! All over. And what fun we had, didn't we? Now let's all just sit back and wait for next year to roll around so we can do all this boo-ha again.

For those of you interested, there were some other awards handed out, and these are listed below, but unfortunately I can't be fucked to elaborate on them. ADIOS!!! x

Other winners:

THE DAVID BLAINE AWARD FOR MOST INSUFFERABLE MUMBLING ONSTAGE - Mountain Man
THE CSS/MGMT AWARD FOR MOST OVER-HYPED ACT - Egyptian Hip Hop
THE "WHO SORRY?" AWARD FOR LEAST APPRECIATED ACT - Tindersticks
THE ROBERT PLANT AWARD FOR SERVICES TO ROCK AND ROLL HAIR - Sleepy Sun
THE GLASTONBURY AWARD FOR HIPPIEST MONUMENT - The wish tree...
THE JARVIS COCKER AWARD FOR BEST PROTEST - The note on the wish tree that read simply "I wish this tree would fuck off!"
THE EBENEZER SCROOGE AWARD FOR BIGGEST BUZZ-KILLER - The frumpy little girl/toad thing that stopped us from dancing on the pub stage in the late late hours of Saturday night...we were all the way up there, having a nice time, not causing anybody any harm, not drawing hitler moustaches on the DJ, not sacrificing lesbians, nothing. And then she started prodding us like a twat and telling us that we weren't allowed. Well we went for it again fifteen minutes later with an army and she couldn't do nuffink! We just sat there and sang bohemian rhapsody like the pissed up knobs we were. HA.

Short Film: Your Lucky Day

This is a short film shot by a clearly heinously talented fella called Dan Brown (not the same, before you ask...). It's a little of a modern cliche in its twisty premise and gunplay and Tarantino-inspired dialogue, but technically it is almost flawless, from the cinematography to the sound, to the editing and music, it all fits together. Very very impressive, and makes you wonder where the money came from to make it! Watch it if you can, though it is a little long...

Film: Trailers 2

This months exciting sneak-peeks and trailers are:

1) The Social Network (Dir. David Fincher)



A weird one on paper. The Social Network is directed by the undoubtably brilliant David Fincher (Seven, Zodiac, Fight Club etc) and the script, penned by West Wing's Aaron Sorkin, is being hailed as a modern great. But then again, it's a movie about Facebook. FACEBOOK. I struggle to see how the creation of a website and the greedy bickering of its creator and his friends (and Trousersnake) is going to make for good cinema but we will see. Jesse Eisenberg looks to have put his work in, and as usual with Fincher the images look sublime. Could swing either way.

2) Catfish (Dir. Ariel Schulman, Henry Joost)



More trouble started by Facebook, but this time with a far darker tone. This trailer does exactly what trailers are intended to do, to tease you, to leave you asking questions and wanting more. There's been lots of talk about this film as the next Blair Witch/Cloverfield/Paranormal Activity, low budget horror success, and it looks very intriguing. Let's hope that the hype can deliver.

3) Lovely, Still (Dir. Nicholas Fackler)



Oh, now, don't look at me like that, don't pretend you didn't smile watching this. It's such a very sweet-looking film with an amazing cast (both Landau and Burstyn are oscar winners, and Burstyn in particular is a darling of the academy, having been nominated another five times in her career) and seemingly just the right balance of touching romance and off-kilter comedy. It's not often you see a film look closely at the lives of the elderly with anything other than a side-glance, but this trailer suggests that this will be the best to have done so since Venus in 2006. Can't wait.

Film: Gainsbourg (Vie heroique)

I don't really have the most time to chat about this one, but then that shouldn't be much of an issue given my lack of intelligence (or particular interest I might add) in Serge Gainsbourg or his music. HOWEVER, I'm not reviewing an album here am I...

This colourful and enigmatic new biopic of the controversial french musician most famous for his Brigitte Bardot-inspired, multi-million selling single 'Je t'aime...moi non plus' and for his hard-smoking, hard-drinking playboy lifestyle, is directed, as well as adapted from his own graphic novel, by artist Joann Sfar, and with a strange mix of character study, luxurious erotica and lucid poetic fantasy. Like Gainsbourg himself, Sfar is a French-born Jew and reads much into the influence on the singer's emotional, artistic and mental development of the Nazi occupation of his childhood. As a child, Serge is told he is ugly, and this idea of his embarrassing "mug" leads him to develop a complex that then manifests itself as two hallucinatory alter-egos, one a portly bollock-shaped thing, and the other a gangly, bone-fingered humanoid with a long snout and big ears that wouldn't look out of place in Pan's Labyrinth.

With his imaginary friends in tow, the young Gainsbourg struts, peeps and flirts with women into his mature life, when the child actor is replaced by the star of the film (and be star I really do mean star), Eric Elmosnino. From here on in, the story focuses on Gainsbourg the charmer and the lover rather than Gainsbourg the artist or Gainsbourg the cultural icon. For this it benefits as an intriguing artistic project, but deteriorates as a film.


As Gainsbourg's career slowly builds, and his song-writing becomes more and more known, the singer begins to attract female attention from all angles, and he confidently beds successfully singers and actresses at wim. From Juliette Greco, to Brigitte Bardot, to Jane Birkin and finally the almost unmentioned Bambou, his periodical conquests form the base of the film's structure and are relied upon to bring much of its emotional heft (of which there is little, so "cool" and cold is Gainsbourg). All this is then interspersed with the surreal interactions that Serge has with the lankier and more aggressive of his two alter-egos. In this we see a more interesting side to both Gainsbourg's personality and Sfar's creative ability. There is a very dark, very odd nature to the hallucinatory moments, but Elmosnino's brilliantly accurate performance contrasts them with Gainsbourg's droll and effortless deadpan. Here was where I began to feel a sort of magic and intrigue that I had expected after the film's opening twenty minutes or so.

Typically though, the rest of the film, despite an award-worthy turn from Elmosnino that possesses all of the physical and aural precision in replica that biopic acting has come to require in recent times, fails to balance this fantastical intrigue with any real human drama, but is a valiant effort in subverting the music biopic. Comparable more to the energetic Ian Dury biopic 'Sex and Drugs and Rock and Roll' or the insane 'Bronson' than a stricter, more serious 'Ray' or 'Walk The Line', it is an imagination and enjoyment of the life of an iconic artist, but unfortunately lacks the heart or the humour to really capture a wide audience. What's more, the success of this film relies heavily on the viewer either being a follower of Serge Gainsbourg's life and music, or merely being dazzled by a series of half-dressed and unbearably sexy women strewn around and across the singer's body.

And so Gainsbourg was, for me, much like the singer's life and music itself, trying hard to rebel and subvert the norm, but ultimately just a little dull.

Film: Toy Story 3

A classic debate between cinephiles the world over is centered on the sacred title of 'best trilogy'. Violence has raged between flag-wavers of different film sagas. Gangs of Star Wars and Godfather fans in leather jackets and studded leg-warmers have been known to tussle on rollerskates in abandoned car parks, and more recently there have been reports of Bourne-lovers and Lord Of The Rings aficionados engaged in heated dance battles in smoke-filled alleyways everywhere. Could it be, though, that an unlikely front-runner for the accolade is an animated, child-friendly adventure that makes no bold social or philosophical statement, that has no jaw-dropping twists and turns, and that has no crowning of new kings, no Sicilian exile chapter, and no dark and evil emperor (okay, maybe one)?

With Toy Story 3, Pixar and its creative team have cemented themselves in the cinematic roll of honour by defying the cynics and the laws of reason to complete a consistently brilliant, technically ground-breaking, emotionally bountiful triple bill of films that appeal to all ages and are, as a result, immensely successful, both commercially and critically.


After the game-changing Toy Story was released all those years ago in 1996 and its romping, heart-wrenching sequel stole our hearts even further, those of us who have grown up to some extent with Woody and Buzz have wondered whether or not a third film would complete the trilogy with the quality that it deserved. But with the third film we come to the logical conclusion of the tale, and the question of what will become of Andy's beloved and loveable toys when he approaches maturity, and more specifically leaves home for college.

In a typically chaotic and slapstick plot, the gang find themselves mistakenly headed for the trash instead of storage, but manage to escape into the car, and a box headed for donation to a day centre emotively named Sunnyside. As Woody escapes, leaving the others behind to return to Andy's side where he belongs, the others are greeted warmly by Sunnyside various inhabitants, led by a big pink bear called Lotso (voiced superbly by Ned Beatty). What appears to be the perfect home, a place where they will be played with every day and never abandoned, soon turns into a prison however, when the day centre's dark secrets become clear and Jesse, Hamm, the Potatoheads and Rex, are taken hostage. With Buzz ingeniously turned against them, reset to his original settings, their hope is gone, but when Woody discovers the dark truth about Sunnyside's inhabitants, and indeed the loveable Lotso, he returns to the belly of the beast to set them free and take them home.

From the opening scenes, reminiscent of the first film, in which Woody and the others play their parts in one of Andy's imaginative adventures, to the montage showing Andy growing from young boy to tall and handsome teenager, we are quickly aware that we are in safe hands, and that this will be no disappointing Part III. The sight gags and top-notch dialogue are present from the start, and the script is a demonstration of perfect balance between character and plot, each one driving the other forward with alarming speed. With new characters expertly introduced and cast, there is a wealth of opportunity to do new things, but the oldies are majoritively still the goodies, with Mr Potatohead ("Hey! Nobody removes my wife's mouth but me!") and Hamm ("C'mon, let's see how much we're going for on eBay.") providing the same droll wit as before. A great plot device also sees Buzz even provide a hilarious cameo as a latino lethareo when the language setting on his back is changed to Spanish.


Undisputably though, it is one of the new characters who steals the show in the form of Ken, Barbie's soulmate and, as is often pointed out, play time accessory. Voiced by the brilliant Michael Keaton, Ken whisks Barbie away to his playhouse to show her his disco, his dune buggy, and "a whole room just for trying on clothes!", where he complains that "No-one around here appreciates clothes!" yet insists fervently that he is not a girls' toy. In a quite brilliant scene, Barbie has Ken tied up, and tortures him for information by ripping in half his prised outfits. It is this innocently satirical and character-led comedy that separates Pixar so often from other films, and Ken here is its ultimate exponent.

Elsewhere the music, still in the hands of the superb Randy Newman, is as well-judged and touching as ever, even if there is not a memorable song there to compete with "You Got A Friend In Me" from Toy Story or "When She Loved Me" from the sequel. Likewise, the animation has developed even further as the technology, and the people using them, improve, at which point now the environments and textures of Pixar's worlds are softer, deeper, darker and more enveloping than ever before.

There has been much made of this film "making grown men cry" (a clever marketing dare to dads?) but despite my not shedding a tear, it was clear that there is a significant bullseye painted on the hearts of its audience. With the trilogy's end comes the time to say goodbye, both for Andy, for the toys, and indeed for us, and it is this letting go, this realisation that a great journey has come to an end, which hit me the hardest. For others there will be a remembering of when they had to give a beloved toy away, and for some it will bring to mind the difficulty of watching your children grow to an age where they do not need you like they once did, but whatever the case, Toy Story 3 is leaving its audiences well and truly touched. And this is what we wanted. What we expect from the unmatchable Pixar. In every perfectly constructed scene of this film, in every hilarious wisecrack, every nerve-shredding action sequence, every heartfelt emotional moment, there is a warmth, an intelligence, a craft and a love that defies the laws of modern hollywood film-making, and that is why Toy Story 3 is a fitting end to the best cinematic trilogy of our times. That's right, the best.

x

Design/Film: Rolling Roadshow 2010 Posters

To celebrate this year's Alamo/Levi's Rolling Roadshow tour, in which nine nights free cinema will take place with a view to screening seminal movies in distinct locations appropriate to them, a series of supremely attractive posters have been designed by the talented and iconic Olly Moss (find other examples of his graphic bravado HERE).

I think you'll agree that they are great pieces of design, and very refreshing. Some are retrospective nods to the great Hitchcock and Preminger posters of the 50s and 60s, designed by legendary artists like Saul Bass, and others embrace more modern techniques of over-laying and shading. My personal favourites are 'On The Waterfront' and 'Rocky'.











It's a shame that the Rolling Roadshow is an American event, and those of us over here will not get the opportunity to watch The Godfather: Part II on a rooftop near Little Italy in NY, or Rocky I, II and III on the steps of the Philadelphia Museum Of Art (imagine!!!), though there are similarly grand and inventive screenings in the UK by projects such as FutureShort's Secret Cinema and the Somerset House Summer Screen festival, and hopefully this trend of outdoor film events will continue.

Photography/Charity: Ben Golik

In a recent visit to Hyde Park I visited the Serpentine Bar and Kitchen and was struck by a series of framed prints on the wall, all of them featuring two polaroid images placed side by side on a white background. They were by the London-based photographer Ben Golik, in his first solo show, and led me to his website with the view to possible purchasing one of them for the very reasonable price of £40 (ten of which goes to housing charity Shelter, so that's nice).

He's an interesting guy, Golik (check out his website HERE), seemingly fascinated with the minutae of everyday life, with indoor/outdoor spaces and with a very graphic sense of aesthetic, in line and shape and colour etc. It brought to mind Martin Parr somewhat, but also Stephen Shore, whose book American Surfaces has a similar eye for doors, gardens, windows and other day to day simplicities.

Anyway, whether I go and grab a frame or not, I'll be keeping an eye out for more of Golik's work. And here are a few of my favourite images from the exhibition. Notice the great colours, the framing and the warmth in the shots, which is why I loved them...




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Film: Inception/Leaving

I've seen a few films recently, but don't really have the time or space to fit them all in. Here's a few I enjoyed (in no order of preference...):

INCEPTION (dir. Christopher Nolan)
In his previous works, from Memento to Insomnia, to the Prestige and to Batman Begins and The Dark Night, Christopher Nolan has never been a director who likes to dumb down. With his films come an authority of intelligence that other film-makers can lack, especially when dealing with studio finance or outside material such as remakes or comic books, and he has always been concerned with the mind and with the concept of reality and truth. So with Inception comes Nolan's turn, after the financial successes of the Batman prequels, to bring some serious studio money and intellectual weight together. And he does so with quite staggering effect.


Inception is less a film than a piece of cinematic engineering, constructed like a bridge so that if just one minute detail, one block of stone is removed then the whole thing may fall apart. The plot is multi-layered to the point of exhaustion, and sees Leo DiCaprio's Dom Cobb bring together a crack team of "extractors", thieves who infiltrate targets' minds through their dreams in order to steal information, to pull off one last job that will allow Cobb to finally return home to America and his children after years of exile. The job is to crack the mind of Robert Fischer (Cillian Murphy), the heir to the world's most powerful energy corporation, and perform "inception" by planting in his mind (as opposed to removing it) an idea, the idea to break up his father's company. Inception is, we are told, impossible, but Cobb has no other option, and so the mind-madness begins.

I have neither the time nor the energy to try and concisely explain what follows, but the story dives into the various layers of Fischer's sub-conscious as Cobb's team try to bury deeper and deeper into the depths of his mind. Each level is designed by a talented young "architect" called Ariadne (Ellen Page), and stretches time further and further, until finally we come close to Limbo, a level of subconscious where time is so slow that one second in the real world can last fifty years. Cobb is the only one to have been there before and boy does he not want to go there again.

With a great cast of reliable youngsters in support (Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Tom Hardy in particular work hard to steal the show), Leo does a good job of bringing some heart to his character in an attempt to emotionalise the otherwise quite superficial story, but it is not the character development that we have come for in this epic, it is the concept, the construction, the scope and size of it all and I left the cinema feeling positively drained, mentally exhausted, but ultimately and entirely enthralled. The effects, the score and the production design are all faultless, building an over-whelming world (or several worlds, rather) in which we are fully invested. It is tense, twisty and most importantly it is risky to the extreme, but it shows just what can be done with cinema should those with money seek out those with brains and ambition, instead of two-a-penny infantile gamers, to build their summer hits.

As Mark Kermode has said in a recent review, this film is exactly what the movie industry needs; a hugely expensive, effects laden, star-studded summer blockbuster, funded by the studios, that makes people work, that makes an audience think and that is ambitious to the extreme. There is no excuse, he rightly says, for studios to dumb down their movies and treat the viewing public like mindless popcorn-gobbling children when this film has showed audiences' capacity to work hard and still enjoy themselves. They have come in their droves in the knowing that Inception is not going to be easy, and they will keep coming, and come again, so I say well done to Inception, and well done to Christopher Nolan and his team, for showing us the light...

LEAVING (dir. Catherine Corsini)
In this uncomfortable and unsettling drama about a bored wife in southern France who abandons her husband and children to embrace her passionate and lustful relationship with a Spanish ex-con, Kristin Scott Thomas pushes again to be recognised as one of our country's best and most over-looked actresses. Two fine accompanying performances from Sergi Lopez and Yvan Attal as sympathetic lover and scorned husband respectively make this a film for actors to relish, but there is more here for audiences to enjoy, even if they may struggle to sympathise at times with the story's heroine.


That Kristin Scott Thomas was ignored even for nomination in 2009's Academy Awards for her heart-wrenchingly frank and unflinching performance in 2008's brilliant 'I've Loved You So Long' is unforgiveable, and I for one was astounded. Over the years she has shown great talent and versatility in her performances in such English language films as Four Weddings, Gosford Park, The English Patient and, recently, Nowhere Boy, before embracing her bilingual heritage in seamlessly moving into the French cinematic arena and delivering yet more performances of real nuance and bravado.

Few people do honest emotional distress and internal struggle like Thomas, and this film provides her with the opportunity to shine as she plays Suzanne, an ex-pat who has found herself married and with children and living in rich comfort in the south of France. When she accidentally runs over a rugged builder though, things take a turn for the more deceitful, and a passionate, highly sexual love affair between them threatens to consume her. When she can't hide it anymore she confesses to her husband and walks out. Furious, he makes it his mission to sabotage their relationship in any way he can, and her desire to stay with her lover is tested more and more.

It's a very solid story - told well, emotionally engaging, brilliantly performed - and yet strangely difficult. As an audience member, it is unclear at times to what extent the director wants us to sympathise with Suzanne, a woman who has abandoned her children and a perfectly decent husband (or at least he was when they were together) in favour of a relationship seemingly built more on lust and sexual desire than emotional connection. As the film moves on, and it becomes harder and harder for Suzanne and her lover's relationship to survive, the logic in her actions is stretched. We begin to want her just to give it up, and she resembles more and more a young girl obsessed with a boy, determined to ignore her parents' sensible advice. We begin to watch with a shaking head, urging her to return home and not risk ruining everything for a relationship that is ultimately doomed (as we know, being intelligent, when we find out about her lover's criminal history).

Nevertheless, this sort of questionable motive is still intriguing and engaging and worth the rental of a DVD when it is released, if not just to see a woman engage in an onscreen affair with a man who is in his forties and normal looking, rather than some olive-skinned toyboy who paints or rescues cormorants something (see Unfaithful and other such balls).