News Archives - October 2005

30/10/2005

Thou shouldst go forth, with great alacrity, to access the great and manifold joys of Wallace and Gromit's most recent escapade, "the Curse of the Were-Rabbit". It's an excellent film, with jokes at every level and some wonderful hidden puns in the background, which tragically seem almost wasted as most people would miss a large majority of them: I'm sure I ignored several, and I was looking out for them.

I'm especially drawn to Aardman's work after this - essentially a few weeks back the Aardman warehouse, with all the old sets and characters from all the classics (Morph, Grand Day Out, Wrong Trousers, Close Shave, Chicken Run) burned down. However, I don't love W&G more simply because of this, but because of Nick Park's reaction:

Wallace and Gromit's creator, Nick Park, said the earthquake in South Asia helped put the loss into perspective.

"Even though it is a precious and nostalgic collection and valuable to the company, in light of other tragedies, today isn't a big deal," he said.

Thank heavens there's someone in the film industry who doesn't take themselves too seriously ;-)

27/10/2005

I'm back from Russia. I know, I never even told you I was going, I'm sorry :-( To be honest I'm kinda sorry to be back, as 'twas rather fantastic. I kept something which I suppose could be best described as a diary whilst there, which I'm putting up below as news items with the appropriate dates (please do start from the beginning of the trip, dated 20/10/2005). It basically came about as a result of my just deciding I wanted to write something about my impressions on the first day, then keeping going afterwards. Looking back, the mood of the writing seems rather bleak, which doesnt seem very fair since I was almost always hugely enjoying myself. However, here it is:

25/10/2005

I'm being hopelessly sentimental, I've only been in Russia a matter of days, but such definitive endings always feel a little sad. For petes sake it's a third world country, why miss it? It's also beautiful, in places. Like me, I gues (and hope). Largely ruined but with some beautiful facades. If not I'm just utterly ruined. BUT GOD LOVES ME ANYWAY (thank you Brian, Clive and Keith...). Do I sound as if I'm just copying Pip Wilson's basic blog concept? Probably. I'm not very good at original thoughts: if you hear enough intelligent comments from others then pass them on to a different audience you sound quite clever with no effort. Oh bugger, that's me right there. Back to my facades...

24/10/2005

I have reproduced this as close to the original (hand written) spelling, punctuation, grammar and formatting as I can.

23/10/2005

Moscow, unfortunately, seems no colder than St Petersburg, so my desire for snow doesn't look like being fulfilled. However, despite my expectations and the stories of others, Moscow so far seems less, not more intimidating, from the criminal perspective. This could just be as a result fo the particular events in St Petersburg: one picking of pockets and thorough intimidation as we "lambs" were circled by the wolves at the train station.

Bizarrely, the older buildings in Moscow als oseem more impressive than those before: although in the centre of St Petersburg every second building is a palace, here the enormous communist constructions break up the skyline and make the older buildings far more glorious by comparison.

However, there seems to be little change in the third-world nature of most people's lives: they may talk for hours about how wonderful it is to own ones own property, and I would not wish to appear patronisingby telling them that this gain is pitiful, but it does seem to be little to celebrate considering the nature of those properties. Even more now the guilt creeps in, for now the food is great, the hotel the most impressive of my life (though that is saying very little), and, though I hate to admit it, the beer beginning to flow. My co-ordination oges first. Odd: I thought it was merely my physical co-ordination, but that change of topic suggests my mind is on its last legs too.

Goodnight

22/10/2005

The Hermitage. Jesus H. Christ... 2 minutes per exhibit = 6 years. I could have taken an infinite number of photos, but we walked through rooms which would demand hours of attention in another place in a matter of seconds. But when you've just been within touching distance of a couple of Da Vincis, a Michelangelo and 18 Rembrandts other treasures do lose their edge.

Thanks to the beautiful strong pound I got two massive slices of pizza for a couple of quid: and no measly, disgusting pizza, as other meals might have suggested.

I've got no inspiration right now, I'm just recounting the day as though it were a shopping list. I'll finish doing that, then see if any bright ideas present themselves.

The Yusopov palace followed lunch, still mighty impressive, even afterthe Hermitage. A source of great woe is that my camera ran out of battery (unless it is worse broken) half way through, and I cannot charge it until tomorrow night. At least this was after we'd got a look at the place where they (started to) murder Rasputin (if such stories are to be believed). Thereafter, a Russian Folk show, which consisted of stunning gymnastics on the part of the male dancers, plus an hour and a half of padding. Nevertheless, well worth it. Then back to the hotel for a meal before leaving St Petersburg on the night train (though unfortunately we've none of us brought that song...)

21/10/2005

Yesterday was probably just designed to make today even more impressive. Despite occasional (quite heavy) rain, and a lazy wind (which can't be bothered to go round you so blows straight through you instead), Old St Petersburg was incredibly spectacular. Whether the sheer volume of gold was in fact the 18th century equivalent of bling I'm not sure, but it's difficult not to be astounded at first. Indeed the sheer number of grand homes we past caused palace fatigue: we only spent time inside churches (St Isaac and St Nicholas), so nothing really distingushed one stately home from another. To your left is Prince Nicholai's palace, to your right engineer's castle, Alexander Alexanderovitch's palace, Catherine the first, Nicholas', Quentin's...

Yet still the signs of the poverty of St Petersburg. A bear is glimpsed, on a chain, evidently intended to "dance" for tourists, faces which have forgotten to smile as a few of us find lunch in what seemed to be an everyday Russian's canteen, with barely recognisable but just about edible food for a matter of pence.

Then the surreal experience of a jazz club in the evening, (the first time I've visited such a place), with the singer having learnt the English words, but apparently only phonetically, and not from a great teacher. Yet a highly enjoyable evening, and an interesting introduction to live jazz, more or less jsut as I had imagined from popular media images.

I still don't know where to put myself, in which of this nation's round holes this square peg belongs...

20/10/2005

This, then, is Russia. The first thing everybody commented on as we descended in the plane was "it looks so brown" - in stark contrast to the England we'd just left, most of the landscape was used and abandoned land, and the people seem similar. Every one stern, alone - just how it seems. Driving through the city at what should have been afternoon rush hour, the whole place seemed empty. Sure there were cars, trucks and busses with people crammed against the glass, but this Russian "Culture Capital" was far from vibrant.

It is easy to make the comparison to our own country, as I guess it would have been perhaps 50 years ago, but to be honest the first thought that hit me was of my idea of Orwell's London in 1984. And yet everywhere the western advertisements, telling me to smoke West "American Filtertips", and buy Philips flatscreens. How could people living in such outwardly miserable (and by all reports imwardly cramped and squalid) "homes" aspire to such luxuries? Yet with a modern advertising onslaught, how could they not?

I feel guilty, in my warm, comfortable hotel room, with my food I can afford to decline. I tell myself it's a typical middle class guilt complex, to ignore it and immerse myself in old (and glorious) Russia. But in reality it hasn't changed - just Kings and Peasants, then and now.

7/10/2005

I've recently discovered one of R.E.M.'s early albums, "Life's Rich Pageant" of almost twenty years ago. It's got some superb bits of nonsense, such as "Superman" (an unusual track in that it's not written by any of the four members of the band) and "Underneath the Bunker", a largely instrumental track probably signalling the beginning of R.E.M.'s habit of including a purely instrumental track on most albums. But then you get tracks like "The Flowers of Guatemala", which begins with the potential to be something quite beautiful, and almost continues that way. Yet I get the slight feeling that Berry/Buck/Mills/Stipe were a little scared of keeping the tempo as slow and reflective as it starts - certainly they do accelerate, but whether that's truly through fear I can't say for sure ;-)

It's a happy coincidence that the album, as it's on tape, is kept at my dad's work, where we go after school some days to work. This means that I listen to it only two or three times a week, with just about the right length of time between for me to more or less never get bored :-)