Saturday, 17 January 2009

The Art of Wit


Even hidden behind a clown mask Ledger commands the scene with only the use of a few grunts, a twist of the head and a instantly iconic stuttering swagger.

As he removes the mask he utters the first of the multitude of subversively memorable quotes that sparkle darkly throughout the film as it totters between the gratuitously frenetic and the portentously profound: ‘Whatever doesn’t kill you, simply makes you… stranger.’

Despite the constant punctuation of frenzied gesticulation and demonic chuckling, the Joker’s speech often flickers into what resembles philosophical insights, albeit perverse ones. His twisted truths resemble common adages, distorted by the wildly all-consuming character that utters them.

The moments when this 'film on fear' truly horrifies are when his dictums appear to make sense and we find ourselves believing in him.

UCL Festival of the Moving Image


From November 4th to the 7th the Bloomsbury Theatre was home to the UCL Festival of the Moving Image. Over the event over one thousand four hundred and forty three minutes of moving images were projected onto a large screen for the viewing pleasure of the general public. There were no tickets to be bought, or seats to be booked, just four days of audio-visual stimulation courtesy of The UCL Spanish / Latin American Dept. and the UCL Film Studies Programme.

The moving images on show ranged from classic foreign films such as Alfonso Arau’s ‘Como agua para chocolate’ (‘Like Water for Chocolate‘) to the latest productions of the UCL Film and TV society such as a superbly tender documentary by Daniel Jones called ‘Silent Dancers’.

Due to the low attendances the festival had an intimate feel and considering that the Bloomsbury was hardly stretched in accommodating the small audience sprinkled across its considerable rows the atmosphere was surprisingly lively, as it was clear that those who had made it there were eagerly devouring every minute of this free-of-charge all you-can-eat buffet of film.

The festival commenced on Tuesday with a veritable hors d’oeuvre of short film from Havana. Throughout striking portraits of struggles beneath the weight of poverty and the political pressures of life in Havana there ran a unquenchable passion for revolution and hope for the future. The touching ‘Lo haria de Nuevo (I’d Do It All Again) ended poignantly with an elderly man‘s cry of ‘Revolucion!’ as he sat underneath a picture of Che Guevara and waited for the nurse to bring him his tea.

The real advantage of being at a festival rather than simply attending the cinema is the interactive aspect. It is quite something to have a film introduced by its director and after the showing to be able to wander up to them for a chat. This kind of event brings to life the often faceless names that roll across the credits as we shuffle down the aisle at the end of a film. With the creators themselves in the room watching their work alongside us, for a moment the business of film becomes something palpable, and perhaps even, within reach.

Unfortunately some of the discussions were made slightly awkward by the fact that the panel of directors and critics on stage sometimes outnumbered the audience watching. But thankfully the atmosphere was always enhanced by the complimentary rum and beer provided courtesy of the Cuban Embassy.

Of course, the festival did also boast some very familiar faces, such as the Oscar-winning actress Vanessa Redgrave who discussed her latest film ‘The Fever.’ Another highlight was the appearance of British film-making royalty in the form of Ken Loach who passionately fielded questions from the audience after a screening of his film ‘It’s a Free World’ to bring the festival to a close.

Stepping outside onto a grey and drizzly Gordon Street felt like coming back from holiday. Four days of exotic locations, vibrant culture, unfamiliar language, heady drinks and hypnotic music had come to an end. Moving images sure can take you places.

Marks Tey


Two women broke down in tears. She managed to break free. That’s when I knew I had to get away. At an industry tribute. Send out a bad message from the cultural centre. A major crackdown. Drivers circling the capital for prey. NW10. The Air Force One 747. More fashionable and popular with younger customers. A landmark moment for one of our most treasured drinks. A West End show featuring a drug-dealing pimp. According to a study by the Dutch Centre for Insurance Statistics. Save up to half price. Swelling, infection and bleeding were the most common side effects. The frosty-looking pair. You can call me Al. We’ve slashed prices across hundreds of lines. Alex is a legend and doesn’t deserve any of this. Factory shop. The No campaign. The satisfaction rating is 2.2 per cent. Bankers may flash their cash in a boom. Shocking and essential. America’s fudging of human rights. And then deigns to fall in love. A look at life on Death Row. Louis Leterrier. Gamma-zapped Dr Jekyll mooches around a Brazilian shanty. Ramps up the camp. Early techno with wink’n’giggle glee. International Kite-Fliers. Imitation’s the sincerest form of telly. Go-Cat for indoor cats. Bringing the outdoors in. Go-Cat Indoor is not just a complete meal but delicious too! Antonisia Do Carno. A limitless swamp of inanities. The recipe challenge. Original referee. The Grim adventures of Billy & Mandy. Roots reggae stalwarts. Trip hop favourites. This train is arriving at. Marks Tey. It’s already too late.

The Coffee Man


I want to ask him what his name is. I want to know his story. I want some coffee. I begin to talk about the machine. It is incapable of producing frothed milk. Apparently this ailment is common to the model. I leave my new friend in order to serve someone some syrupy over-priced ice-cream. The total receipt exceeds the pay I receive for three hours work. I wonder how long the coffee man would have to work to buy a core sundae. Perhaps he doesn’t even like core sundaes. I return to find him leaning back against the counter staring at a family while they peruse the garish rows of pick and mix sweets. Sugar and preservatives call out from multifarious guises. He cranes round to tell me that he only comes to look at the women. I can’t think of anything to say. I eventually hazard a cautious laugh. His breath reeks. A fat child is forced to retreat from the till as he is unable to afford the vast amount of mix he has picked. Apparently this ailment is common to the model.

An Exercise in Disinformation

And so it begins...