Blocking Out A Scene

A Character design for Magnus the Owl, a character from The Moon Fox, illustrated by Marie Denham. check out her tumblr here: http://mariedenham.tumblr.com/

Well, for Starters...

Amy and Mark had several reservations as they entered the establishment. A tray of champagne glasses bubbling over with resentment glided by them as they were approached by a well dressed man. "We have smoking or non-smoking seething. Which would you prefer?" Mark looked at Amy. "Well her constant smoking is a factor so put us there in smoking. We wanna make a real meal of this." The well dressed man smugly added. "That's our job, Sir. Welcome to Bickerings, known throughout the country for it's fine quizz-ine." "We could have just had this out at home, Mark," Amy sternly said. The couple were being led to their table.  "If we're going to have a proper argument we might as well do it in a five star row-staurant which is what Bickerings is, "Mark retorted. "Let's just try and have some fun here." Amy sighed as she pulled up her seat. Looking around she noticed a number of sobbing couples and a few others completely in silence. "Spend all this money to just sit in silence. That's a good thing?!" Mark didn't reply as he was already perusing the menu.  Amy picked up hers and began to scan it. "Hmm...infidelity is never rare...that's sort of funny..." Mark saw a chance for first blood. "But it can be well done!" Amy glared at him.  "I'm not sure I have the right appetite tonight. Destruction doesn't look all that appealing," Mark was wondering aloud, not really addressing his dinner date. "I'm going to have the salad," Amy flatly said. "I hear they use some of the finest olive vitriol around for it." A waitress walked over to them. "Hi,  my name is Tiffany, Tiff for short. I'll be waiting on you this evening. If you'd care to look at our specials. We have fresh recriminations, chicken bones of contention and of course our famed Fracas bar which is located to my left or if you wish to argue with me, to your right." Mark addressed her. "I know revenge and all that serving cold stuff, but I'd rather it hot. Any suggestions?" "Well, we could bring it out when your conversation is getting more heated or we could have the meat roasted on a spat!" "Hmmm...I don't know," Mark mulled. "I do have a real beef with this woman but I don't want it overdone. Ro-Misery cooking doesn't do it for me. I'll stick with plain revenge. Straight up." Tiff smiled and handed another menu. "The resign list?" Mark took it while Tiff looked at Amy. "Salad was it?" "Yes, with some rude barbs." Tiff corrected her, "Do you mean Rhubarb?" Amy nodded. "Just a pint of Bitter for me then." "And a drink for you Miss?." "Faultless to a tea, thank you." Their first (dis)course were some insults they skewered each other with. Amy was unhappy with the belittle portions but didn't make any more of a scene than the two were already making.  Their main coarse was intense. Mark had to send back his first piece of revenge as it was raw. He settled with the second piece even if it was a little undercooked. Tapping a nearby table he asked. "We got some wounds here, but no salt. Could we trouble you for some of yours?" Over the meal a lot was aired but this was no mere food fight. This was Dinner breaks all. The sort of argument that chews up a couple and then spits them out. They scoffed at one another before they scoffed down some more food.  During a break in the hostilities and as a palate cleanser they decided to engage in perfectly civil chat. Mark laughed."I've heard such good things about this place. It's way nicer that that old dump we'd go for a little bite, I mean fight. What was that placed called?" "Oh yeah Quarrels. I don't know, it had a nice in your face quality. The Anger-biance there was second to none." It wasn't long, though it felt like an eternity like most arguments do, before they had im-gibed enough drink and devoured enough food for thought and were onto their just desserts.  Having had their fill of each other they got up to leave Bickerings and as they were making their way out, Mark noted, "It's a bit steep. But we've had too many disagreements tonight. We won't dispute the bill." Amy replied, "I hear they like when people do that though!" As they neared the door they came across the well dressed man once again. It was clear he was the Haître d' of the place.  "Finest fight we have ever had! Thank you! My compliments and complaints to your staff." The Haître d' just sneered.  "Well, what else would you expect from a 5 Star location such as Bickerings? We're hardly Fast Feud!"

Mountain Dew- An Invite Only Modern Fable

There once was a Mountain Dwelling Recluse whose close friend was a little wolf named Cole. At some point every day he turned on his old fashioned, stained gramophone and would listen to beautiful music. Reverberating around his hovel, he would think about the joy of music in its endless variations and styles. Despite being a Recluse he had not always lived his life this way and in his past he made many good friends and after so long tasting the sweetness of solitude he decided on a change. It was long past time he brought the beautiful music he had loved so much to a selected crowd of friends and well wishers. And people from the far off land of some area named “Google". His noble wolf however would not be able to stay, as his dalliance with a Bear named Claire had produced an offspring. The little wolf went to mind his little cub. A talking and walking series of Fishbones offered his services on sound, this bony aquatic anomaly seemed to float between joints providing music and aural expertise. Crafty Canty, a local from a nearby territory where people went to feel good lost also pitched in to get this eclectic event off the ground.  A fair Maire-den who is a SuperBlonde, was on hand for whatever else needed doing, while her father the legendary Jerry (whose Moustache was rarely stained with Latte) and her two other brothers, Ciaran and Shane, turned the location from family setting to festival ready. A Great Balloon Race was undertaken by various parties but the first to arrive got there far more quickly,Toby honest, by Karr. A Jollins Green (Cack-ie green) Giant also appeared, while a Chameleon came back to Life for the soiree. This was the power of the mighty mountain dew on the location. Ominous rain threatened on the day but spirits refused to be dampened as people travelled far and wide to the Mountain, led by an array of Grave Lanterns the Recluse had dug up to ensure no-one got lost in the silent musical darkness.  Despite the presence of actual relations, the Recluse also extended his family to include more distant Relatives who sang sweet folky harmonies to all and sundry. Some other Man dola-ed out more harmony driven delight to the audience and it was clear looking at everyone, both Hymn and Her were Shaking and dancing in this case. Signal(s) were lost on phones (no-one could Ring Ian) but could be found on stage and is it any Young Wonder no-one cared about being without coverage, sealed off in this strange place? Next up was a sleepy rubber-band and like Elastic, oh Snap, they were good. Their inspired cover of You Only Live Twice resonated with the Recluse. He had now lived two ways, a solitary life and now one blessed with many new friends. "(Stevie) Gee, "  he thought to himself, " Plenty of Mac-room in my life for many more of these events." The night was a huge success, a sort of watershed moment (when Water was still on that is) that united a disparate group in some rural excess.  One band many looked forward to, in the end, could not play, one of its driving forces still loomed large over proceedings, lending his diverse talents to a few of the other performers.  The band of his that didn’t play? Well I won’t make a Stink about it either way. It certainly didn't Alter any of the Hours the crowd had in a negative way. The final thought of the Recluse was that if he kept this sort of event going, year in and year out, well, he'd be on a pretty Sweet Jelly Roll. Authors Note: Congratulations again to Colm and his family on a great night. To many more!

An Overview of the Cork French Film Festival 2013

  For fans of classic French Cinema this years 24th Cork French Film Festival provided a wide array of delights ranging from hugely influential New Wave films to more recent examples of monochromatic mischief.

Making a virtue of its “Noir et Blanc” theme the programme emanated that elusive and trademark kind of cool that we associate with Franco film-making, the expressive shadows concealing what seemed like a million askew narratives. Whether  it was dealing with a straight ahead Film Noir, surely the province of such dark pools and austere skies, a matinee type serial fare or tackling social and economic pressures in far flung countries it never failed to, at its heart, entertain with wit and flair.

  Godard, one of the most iconic of the French New Wave lot was well represented in the screening of “Alphaville”, an odd fusion of  dystopic science fiction filtered through a gumshoe detective story, the influences of this seminal film providing templates for future hits such as Blade Runner. Featuring a brooding central performance by Eddie Constatine, admittedly never the most versatile of actors but his granite like face and natural stoicism put to good use and when set against the luminous presence of Goddess  (and Godard muse) Anna Karina the films hypnotic gaze remains hard to resist. A science fiction film bereft of any real special effects, the sleek architecture of Paris stands in for the distant future and it’s metropolitan beauty is given an ominous and menacing sheen here. One of my favourite Godard pieces even with some of its odd storytelling lurches.

  Keeping with the New Wave for a moment, “Shoot the Piano Player” was screened, Truffauts follow on to his stunning debut The 400 Blows, it’s easy to see why on it intitial release, the reception was so muted. Following 400 Blows would be a daunting task for anyone and a genre fusion of gangster farce and existential musing must have puzzled the audience first time around. Seen from a distance there is no doubting that it’s a minor work for the director, its attempts to marry disparate threads never quite cohering as much as you like. For every well observed, tense moment you get a throwaway gag that is quite jarring and the film prides itself on being almost wilfully obscure from an exposition point of view. Tyring to figure out the relationships becomes gradually less important as the more farcical elements get amped up. Best to just forget it and enjoy some of its well staged scenes, an awkward fight sequence gets special attention for its attempts to convey a really messy scuffle and how something like that might go in real life. For all its comedy moments that don’t quite work, the film has a chilly  unsettling air that is interesting when contrasted against its on the surface fluff. Not essential to be seen but diverting enough while it lasts.

  A highlight of the festival was a multi-media event in which La Jetee was screened alongside an exhibit of photographs from the film in the Wandesford Quay art gallery. This evening was completed with a performance by electronic musicians I AM THE COMOS. La Jetee itself, is an undisputed masterpiece, directed by Chris Marker (his only foray into Sci-Fi alas) and its tight story of fate and time travel mechanics is a disquieting creation. Filmed using only still photographs and voice over it shows that when a concept is strong enough,like Alaphaville no special effects are required and the clipped nature of its production adds intriguing layers to the piece. It makes the audience feel that we are, less seeing a narrative, than unearthing a horrific document of sorts that outlines a terrifying temporal cautionary tale. With language that finds an elegiac balance between technical and poetic La Jetee has earned its place as towering science fiction and it’s no surprise it gave a template to the still most satisfying film of Terry Gilliams career, “Twelve Monkeys” (sorry Brazil fans).

  Persepolis, one of the most contemporary films at the festival this year, is an utterly charming coming of age tale about a girl named Marjane living under a strict Iranian regime and her curiosity about the world at large. Based on a graphic novel which had a distinctive look, thankfully retained for its cinematic translation, the story is an fascinating insight into the conservative traditions and violent past of Iran. Following Marjane’s attempts to explore the wider world, it encompasses a great many tones, the comedy is sweet natured and truthful but the film isn’t afraid to show just how bleak things can get for the central character, not just within Iran's borders but beyond in Europe as she makes a number of mistakes and ends up homeless. What emerges is a truthful, touching story that if played straight might not have been anywhere near as poignant. The cartoonish presentation allows many inspired flights of visual imagination, the narrative strains at the leash of standard storytelling devices and it’s this fluid integration between reality and the more abstract dreams and thoughts of its central character that makes it so affecting. For anyone who feels a stigma with regards to animation, this should be seen as sophisticated and mature film making.

  Maturity was in short supply in the best film of the festival, Aki Kaurismäki’s 1992 take on the famous novel La Vie de Bohème, it follows three Bohemian artists, a writer, a painter and musician and their strange meandering adventures chasing fortune and romance. Rodolfo played by Kaurismäki regular

Matti Pellonpää gets the meat of the story, his relationship with a woman named Mimi giving the film its main emotional hook. Pellonpää had this ability to essay a perfect man child, an emotionally stunted adult who with just one laconic expression could convey a depth of feeling, be it love or longing. His awkward courtship and the genuinely sweet relationship that springs up contains some of the films best gags but it is in the unusual formation of bonds between the characters that the film really takes hold. There’s just no reason we should be so charmed by these individuals but each actor brings a sort of lived-in nuance to the role and it makes their interactions very effective. While episodic in nature and a bit too over long, it is surprising how much this gets under your skin and it’s all down to the subtlety Kaurismäki brings to the affair. Nothing is overstated, and while some longeurs are heavy with melancholy it never gets too grim and even at its bleakest the film has a winning edge and many laughs. It certainly wouldn’t suit everyones tastes but as an exercise in bohemian whimsy it packs a pretty big emotional punch.

  A festival then which covered a myriad of tones all coated in eternal monochrome cool, it showed most definitely who indeed was hue when it comes to the possibilities of classic French cinema.

Jeffrey Lewis and The Rain || The Crane Lane Wednesday 17th July 2013 - Noise

A review I did for Jeffrey Lewis and The Rain. To say I enjoyed it would be an understatement.

without title There's something brutal and special, beautiful and brittle about such a restorative rebuttal. it's not subtle, and it's not supple but it is super suitable to that of the more malleable millennial. and i guess it's just the perennial and the parental the supplemental instead of the fundamental and the more cruelly critical if deemed considerable well that's just atypical, anatomically analytical of the abominable and the abysmal why be miserable in the denial of any sort of miracle when the possible and the palatable are positively powerful and it's not tyrannical to demand change, be vocal champion local, detest bigotry and the unhelpful be hopeful, I dread to think of the dreadfully incapable You can't argue with a fanatical the odds of changing their minds is astronomical and I've never been all that mathematical but we shouldn't need a funeral to become spiritual, communal It's sad that such a grim ritual has become so habitual maybe these things will change in steps that are gradual and be wary of awful views that can border on the cusp of the casual Be mindful of plights around you that could be invisible. Signs in protests don't need to be grammatical or practical they can hang with questions rhetorical they can talk about topics regrettable With truth don't take a morsel Consume the mouthful believe me the respect will be mutual they can also blaze with power irrevocable and words wilfully wise could be deemed unpractical or whimsical Be the well read and readily available rascal Goodness should be commonplace not something special.and it should be placed alongside the cerebral and the celestial. I suspect anyone who boasts about being a radical gentle condescension lacking in truer comprehension a gent in a monocle lecturing the man in a shackle. Ideas of course are critical but hey let's just spitball and make sure we are never cynical, I want to look back from death inevitable and know from the break of the umbilical I was moral and I was ethical and that vicious things when all is final do die out and virtue is the thing that is cyclical 

Batman and the Case of the Circular Haiku!

Thinking about the 1960s Batman series a lot lately, prompted me to consider how often some very surreal threats loomed over the Dynamic Duo. They were to be turned into musical notes or ice cream cones or put through various other outlandish ordeals. So I wondered what would happen if "classic villain" Circular Haiku turned Batman into that most sinister of syllabic sadism?  Will the Maniac of Meter crush the Caped Crusader? Does this (P)rose have the sharpest thorns of all? And will it be Haiku or HIGH NOON for our heroes? Find out in "From the Sonnet to the Slaughter House!" Arkham's gates clattered Batman had to fight his foe Circular Haiku Robin was reading Some dusty Wayne Manor book Message from Dark Knight So Robin read on "Something has occurred old chum Changed into text." "Holy Pulp Poetry! Must find some way to reverse  This nefarious verse!" Batman remembered How in the past he had shown Flair for beat poetry.  Ka-Pow! Zonk! Gins! Berg! Poetry Slam! Zap! Wham! Kero-Whack! Batman freed himself. Back in his body "Haiku you are out of line! Poor deluded poet." Used his punchy prose And Haiku was defeated. "Keep on Reading Kids". Batmobile sped up Haiku was brought to Justice. Arkham's gates clattered...

Self Pithy

Self felt Less, at a loose end a collection of "what to do" and hazy "what he did" He admired the zest of his friend who had just gotten a tattoo oh that crazy guy, Id! He had gotten an apostrophe When Self saw that tiny mark it sank in and he cried Self was so lost y'see He didn't have that shiny spark that would brand him as an "I'd..."

This is wrong on so many levels

Meanwhile in the North Pole...

The mistle has gone and stubbed its toe while 3 "wise" men criticise the late late toy show Wine is mulling over his choices there in the corner Frankin isn't making lots of Sense but still getting away with myrrh-der. The music has changed this year in the Workshop The wrapping has lost its "W" and now it's gone all hip hop But the Elves are so sick of carols that they are embracing this unseasonal but totally reasonable musical "about facing". Saint Nick is busy in his office with his most important silent partner, if we were to use business vernacular to describe this unholy alliance between Father Christmas  and a shady business man named "Secular". The meeting is concerned with the fall in demand for Christmas Crackers "If the market doesn't pick up, we could easily lose our most lucrative backers!" Nick sits back in his chair remembering the good old days of sleigh bells and sleet Now he has to employ an elf to write whatever it is St. Nick is meant to Tweet "Things have changed in the North Pole", he says before an ominous pause "I think Father Time is biding himself til he makes a move on Mrs. Claus!!" "Frosty the Snowman is nowhere to be found Some Sunny boy has said he saw him go to ground after he was busted last year for some "snow" at one of his usual gigs When he was questioned by the police he gave up his dealer, the mysterious 'R. Briggs'!" Blitzen through his Christmas card writing, so Donner can begin his splurging Vixen makes the joke that as reindeer go she's hardly like the holy Virgin Comet's streaking through the place, with Dasher swift in pursuit Rudolph is a bit of brown/red noser so he's re-examining the Christmas route Dancer has four left feet so he's nervous about Cupids advances While the final reindeer is mincing around, yep, cause he's the one that prances Noel, the newest elf intern isn't feeling very festive Holly and Jolly the twins in Accounting, didn't like him being so suggestive he got in to this job on his J(olly)1 Visa But now he'd rather have post "St. Stephens day Amenisa"! Mrs. Claus just shrugs at the state of the place saying "Tis the season" While she makes a shoddy jumper for her husband in act of passive aggression "Jack Frost is a cool customer but I must remember I'm not single! And thinking about it, it's not bad at all being Mrs. Kris Kringle" Next year they'll all be more organised and I think  they'll rediscover the joys of it But til then all my well wishes can be summarised in  Nollaig Shona Duit!