I found out today that my only fellow temp at work, an absolute sweetheart of a lass, has been told off for working too many hours, the same hours, if not less than, what I do. And she’s a temp-perm, and is just about to turn permanent. I know that the only reason that they’re not saying the same to me is because of my leverage (I work on my own 80% of the time, and despite being a temp, I am not the easiest person to replace because of the responsibility of the tasks, and I am the only person who knows the job because I created it). Also I get the nasty feeling that they’re only picking on her because they know that she’ll do what they say, which smacks of bullying. In my case, I and they have similar amounts to lose so they know that I’d argue it with them because there are a hundred arguments for paying us for the hours that we do, not least the fact that we actually work those hours for very little money unlike various other employees on nice yearly salaries. It’s the first time that I’ve felt that my age and experience has been an asset. It feels nice that I know I can walk out of there with my head held high after a job done damn well and know that they’ll be stuffed without me.


And now the film section...

Thanks to its cast, Suicide Kings had me staying up to watch. And darn it, it got me caught up in it. Remember, I am hideously terrible at predicting a plot, and this was no exception. Fortunately it didn't quite reach the stupidly ridiculous number of twists in Wild Things. It features a couple of Monky's favourites, and a couple of mine, and so I had very low expectations of it. SPF with attendant ironic tan and all. Expect the worst, and you’ll always be pleasantly surprised.

It’s taken me this long to see A Clockwork Orange. I was a sensitive flower as a child, and I cannot remember a clip affecting me as much as when I saw the first bit of the Singin’ In The Rain scene during a school class at the age of 15. Considering that my comprehensive was not exactly liberal, and that the film was still banned, I can’t quite believe that I saw it there. But I know that the clip was amongst banned or somehow disreputable scenes from a few films we were shown that day, but I can’t remember any of the others. That’s got to count for something. Yet again, expectations were low because of its notoriety, but I actually liked it. I thought that the production design would be far too ridiculous in that 60s way to admire, but it just managed that balance of feeling absolutely Britain-located while other-worldly. I can’t believe that Kubrick managed to pull it off. I’m sure I’m in the minority, because I fully expected it to be a complete disappointment, with the notorious scenes not being shocking at all, but I thought it worked, and that it still had the power to schock in the best way.

Next up, Dead Man’s Shoes. This was a given, with the Shane Meadows and Paddy Considine involvement, but it really didn’t turn out to be what I expected. The Meadows trademarks were there: the local untrained actors, the refreshing use of contemporary music, the Considine, the dark joke... but this time the dark jokes fell away to just dark far quicker than I expected. Really very recommended. It’s a cliché to say that a film feels ‘British’ but watch this to feel proud of British low-budget film-making, British comi-tragedy, and feel a satisfied at Meadows’s ability to formulate such a distinctive depiction of a particular section of Britain.

Just rented Thirteen. Be proud of me, I walked past Dodgeball, and it was a Saturday night. Ooh, there’s a bit of a Sisto theme this post. If I tried to describe the plot, it would sound like a half-series story arc of Grange Hill, but give it some oomph, some acting talent, some visual accuity, and you got yourself a Sundance prize-winning film. At the beginning I worried that the story was just not going to start, but with slight fires, it began to slightly push along. Let’s be honest, it is the acting and the directing that completely shove this film up into praise-worthy. Knowing that it was a first-time director, I didn’t expect to be so impressed by the look and pace of the film. Then I found out that Catherine Hardwicke was a production designer, responsible for Three Kings and Vanilla Sky among others, and started to see how she’s a very smart visual person indeed. That the more sexual scenes were pulled off (heh, I’m twelve) with such believable honesty without seeming salacious is a testament to her skill; this includes one showing the two teenage girls kissing which really should never have worked without seeming unnecessary or exploitative within the context of the story. Holly Hunter is good, but good in the way that you expect. Nothing really surprised me about her performance, which generally means that I’ve got used to her being excellent and reliable, but not particularly enlightening. It was Evan Rachel Wood in the lead and the blondie who played her brother who were the opinion-turners. Some people are really truly born to act (remember that, dear pretty things lining up in Los Angeles) and Wood is one of those people. And I don’t say that easily.

I miss Soho. I miss all of central London. Which are possibly the words of a madwoman.

Am gradually spreading my Temp Evil Empire at work. Currently have two desks and appear to have kidnapped a ‘phone by accident. Muahaha. Even if I am still having to share a log-in on the dastardly PCs. I have spent the last week staring at Excel sheets (which I am getting very good at putting pretty colours on, less so at the formulas thing) and dreaming of five-figure job numbers. It’s a joy. Even I doze off if I start to describe what I currently do as employment. Though join me in a drink when I leave cos they’ll be stuffed trying to cover a job, which through circumstance, I have pretty much created. Ha.

Have watched One Hour Photo and most of its commentary but have only watched two minutes of Magnolia and am already annoyed by it. It’s taken me 4 and a half years to make a concerted attempt to watch Magnolia since making a pity bid and purchase of an Aimee Mann signed soundtrack of at an auction out back of the Wayne Gretzky’s bar (pre-rooftop-patio-renovation) in Toronto (it was slightly random but we did get a freebie NHL cap & Argonauts stein just for being British and in attendance, and were seemingly the only bar guests to have been invited. Hmmm.).



More best comedy moments to add:

Buster & the Blood Vessels doing Christmas songs on Never Mind The Buzzcocks for the intro round. Boom tisch, boom tisch, “oy, oy, oy”, “WE’RE WALKIN’ IN THE AIRRRRRR”.

The airport stairs in Arrested Development. I never saw the beginning of the series (but hopefully getting DVD for birthday) to get the explanation for that, but it still makes me giggle. Even when humour-vacuum Heather Graham is stalking up ‘em.

And latest Crap Celebrity Spot: Stephen Gately eating some pre-ChildCatcher Wagamama’s in the Soho branch.

Is it very very wrong that I’m bearing, and maybe a little liking, a Level 42 track? *flings self out of bedroom window (hey, I’m on the 2nd floor so that would hurt quite a lot) onto neighbour’s terracotta planters*