Unfortunately, the answer to the question; 'do those bites and leg scratches belong to you?', is disappointingly a yes- yes they do.
Whilst this gloriously sunny weather has been bringing out the best in people, it seems to have brought the worst out in the bugs of the world.
Bugs... Bugs... what a peculiar animal. Here, I address this portion of my blog to the King of the Bugs and his subjects. If you are a bug, please tell me: what is your purpose in life? Other than to inflict misery upon the human and animal populations, what is it that you do? I mean, do you have a daily bite quota to maintain? More to the point, am I one of your chief targets? You see me- Mildred, on the horizon and automatically home in. Is that right? Because it seems to me that yes, that is correct.
Last week, I went for a walk with Dave (which, in case you were wondering- was rather good fun). When we got home, I did some work and then proceeded to have a delicious dinner: so far so good. I felt fine. It wasn't until the next morning that I noticed something amiss. I spent the morning throwing-up (which, in case you were wondering- was not nice) and encountering a rather varied array of different symptoms. I'll spare you the details, but trust me when I say it wasn't pleasant.
It was the morning after this walk that I first noticed precisely nine big, red angry bites up my right leg. Bear in mind- my leg's are like the same shade as what Snow White's must have been... seriously pale! So it looked even worse. I was given some medicine and now- nearly ten days later they are just starting to fade.
So King Bug, thank you for momentarily ruining my right leg, as well as my morning. How kind of you to use me as a restaurant. I can only hope that we don't meet again.
Earlier this week I went on another walk. Foolishly, I was wearing shorts when somehow- I managed to get tangled up in a huge bramble that left me with (no exaggeration), about twenty-five scratches up the back of my left leg. I then had to extract a load of thorns which had decided to make the transfer from the dry, miserable thorny bush to my moisturised white pins. Why thank you hedge.
Don't they say that all things come in threes? I sincerely hope that that is wrong as I think that I've had my fill of leg trauma for the next few months. Beware, of the bugs and the hedges... that is the advice that I am extending to you today... beware!
Before I go, I'm going to end this blog with a farewell.
So long King Bugsalot and your thorny friend... may we never have the privilege to meet again.
Mildred
Friday, 30 March 2012
Wednesday, 28 March 2012
FILM REVIEW: Hereafter
FILM: Hereafter
GENRE: Drama/ Fantasy
CAST: Matt Damon, Cécile De France and Thierry Neuvic
DIRECTOR: Clint Eastwood
YEAR: 2010
WHY ARE THE CAST FAMILIAR?: Well, to be honest, the cast aren't as familiar as you would expect, given that this film is directed by the one and only Mr Eastwood. However, the lead actor- Matt Damon, is a man that can stand on his own. Perhaps some of his most famous films include Good Will Hunting, playing 'Will Hunting', The Talented Mr Ripley, playing 'Tom Ripley'; the Ocean's.. series, as 'Linus Caldwell' and The Bourne... series, playing Jason Bourne. Cécile De France is a French actress who- until Hereafter, I had never seen before. But after doing some digging, I can tell you that she has had quite an extensive career- just on the other side of the English Channel in France. Like De France, Thierry Neuvic has been in a lot of things, but perhaps the film that we would recognise is Sherlock Holmes- A Game of Shadows, where he played Claude Ravache.
My review:
This is a film that I had wanted to watch since it came out. Unfortunately- due to circumstance, that wasn't to be... until yesterday night. I think that there's something a little curious about the subject matter because- despite what any of us may or may not believe, we will never know what happens when we die. This film, however takes out the element of religion and uses scientific evidence to justify an afterlife. Yet to avoid confusion, it uses the clever title Hereafter.
The film begins in an idyllic location: beautiful white sandy beaches and crystal clear waters that look wonderfully enticing, before they turn menacing. At first, I have to confess that I thought I'd accidentally tweaked the settings of the DVD as the film began in French with English subtitles, but then I realised that this was part of the story! This beautiful opening soon becomes devastated by a tsunami. De France plays Marie- a woman whose life is changed by the tsunami. She attempts to out-run the impossible but is soon swept up by the water. After having been declared dead, she miraculously awakens having witnessed the tranquillity of the 'hereafter'.
Marie's story weaves its way through the film with that of George (Matt Damon) and a young boy in England called Marcus who tragically loses his twin brother. At times I did find the editing a little complicated as it seemed to jump sporadically from one story to the next, sometimes without feeling as though each segment is ready to be changed. And yet, this seems to be intentional as there later came to be an 'oh, that makes sense' moment.
When Marie starts suffering from flashbacks, she is instructed to take time off work. Whilst on sabbatical, she writes a book entitled 'Hereafter'. This is debuted at The London Book Fair. Coincidentally, George is also in London as he attempts to escape this curse that he has- the ability to talk with the dead. It prevents him from leading a normal life and seems to leave him isolated and alone. Yet, his moment of serendipity with Marie proves that he is no longer alone.
Similarly, the third story also intersects at this same point. Marcus (played by George and Frankie McLaren) is continually searching for a way to be close to his identical twin brother- Jason. The performance's given by the McLaren brothers are heart-wrenching as Marcus' grief is quite challenging to digest at points as it just seems too much for a child to handle. But it seems to be the truth of his grief that helps to legitimise his search for the 'hereafter'. At the same time, it is Marcus that helps give weight to the lives of Marie and George: it feels like they are all on a journey that you can't help but become a part of.
As the film draws to a close, there is a feeling of contentment that George is able to give Marcus the closure he so desperately needs to move on. Likewise, when George meets Marie, I was left with a feeling of lightness in my tummy. At long last, this man could share some happiness with someone who has experienced what he has to live with on a daily basis. Both George and Marie are so likeable that you are willing them to meet; a meeting that to me symbolised the final pieces of the jigsaw.
I watched this film and was surprised by how powerful it was. I felt moved by all the main characters and found myself considering my own thoughts on the 'hereafter'. I don't usually enjoy this sort of film, but I have to say that I felt the subject matter was handled delicately and benefited from thoughtful directing by Clint Eastwood. Overall, a very, very good film that will leave a lingering sentiment.
My rating: * * * *
GENRE: Drama/ Fantasy
CAST: Matt Damon, Cécile De France and Thierry Neuvic
DIRECTOR: Clint Eastwood
YEAR: 2010
WHY ARE THE CAST FAMILIAR?: Well, to be honest, the cast aren't as familiar as you would expect, given that this film is directed by the one and only Mr Eastwood. However, the lead actor- Matt Damon, is a man that can stand on his own. Perhaps some of his most famous films include Good Will Hunting, playing 'Will Hunting', The Talented Mr Ripley, playing 'Tom Ripley'; the Ocean's.. series, as 'Linus Caldwell' and The Bourne... series, playing Jason Bourne. Cécile De France is a French actress who- until Hereafter, I had never seen before. But after doing some digging, I can tell you that she has had quite an extensive career- just on the other side of the English Channel in France. Like De France, Thierry Neuvic has been in a lot of things, but perhaps the film that we would recognise is Sherlock Holmes- A Game of Shadows, where he played Claude Ravache.
My review:
This is a film that I had wanted to watch since it came out. Unfortunately- due to circumstance, that wasn't to be... until yesterday night. I think that there's something a little curious about the subject matter because- despite what any of us may or may not believe, we will never know what happens when we die. This film, however takes out the element of religion and uses scientific evidence to justify an afterlife. Yet to avoid confusion, it uses the clever title Hereafter.
The film begins in an idyllic location: beautiful white sandy beaches and crystal clear waters that look wonderfully enticing, before they turn menacing. At first, I have to confess that I thought I'd accidentally tweaked the settings of the DVD as the film began in French with English subtitles, but then I realised that this was part of the story! This beautiful opening soon becomes devastated by a tsunami. De France plays Marie- a woman whose life is changed by the tsunami. She attempts to out-run the impossible but is soon swept up by the water. After having been declared dead, she miraculously awakens having witnessed the tranquillity of the 'hereafter'.
Marie's story weaves its way through the film with that of George (Matt Damon) and a young boy in England called Marcus who tragically loses his twin brother. At times I did find the editing a little complicated as it seemed to jump sporadically from one story to the next, sometimes without feeling as though each segment is ready to be changed. And yet, this seems to be intentional as there later came to be an 'oh, that makes sense' moment.
When Marie starts suffering from flashbacks, she is instructed to take time off work. Whilst on sabbatical, she writes a book entitled 'Hereafter'. This is debuted at The London Book Fair. Coincidentally, George is also in London as he attempts to escape this curse that he has- the ability to talk with the dead. It prevents him from leading a normal life and seems to leave him isolated and alone. Yet, his moment of serendipity with Marie proves that he is no longer alone.
Similarly, the third story also intersects at this same point. Marcus (played by George and Frankie McLaren) is continually searching for a way to be close to his identical twin brother- Jason. The performance's given by the McLaren brothers are heart-wrenching as Marcus' grief is quite challenging to digest at points as it just seems too much for a child to handle. But it seems to be the truth of his grief that helps to legitimise his search for the 'hereafter'. At the same time, it is Marcus that helps give weight to the lives of Marie and George: it feels like they are all on a journey that you can't help but become a part of.
As the film draws to a close, there is a feeling of contentment that George is able to give Marcus the closure he so desperately needs to move on. Likewise, when George meets Marie, I was left with a feeling of lightness in my tummy. At long last, this man could share some happiness with someone who has experienced what he has to live with on a daily basis. Both George and Marie are so likeable that you are willing them to meet; a meeting that to me symbolised the final pieces of the jigsaw.
I watched this film and was surprised by how powerful it was. I felt moved by all the main characters and found myself considering my own thoughts on the 'hereafter'. I don't usually enjoy this sort of film, but I have to say that I felt the subject matter was handled delicately and benefited from thoughtful directing by Clint Eastwood. Overall, a very, very good film that will leave a lingering sentiment.
My rating: * * * *
Sunday, 25 March 2012
Why hello there, did you just clean that car?
That's right, hello. Did I just clean that lovely blue car? Why yes, I did indeed.
This weekend I decided to do something that I only do once a year. I have to wait until the weather is really good... and providing that I have nothing better to do, I make the decision to do this chore.
Spring is here, so that means that it's time to spring into action and do a spot of the ol' 'spring cleaning'. Usually, I do this begrudgingly, cleaning into the Summer over a period of months as it's too much to do everything on one day. Plus, I'm not like my Mum- I'm not that good at the cleaning as I just don't think that I'm disciplined enough (and yes Mum, if you are reading this, that is a compliment).
I woke up early yesterday morning and went for a glorious walk with Dave. As a consequence, my nose freckles have made an appearance many months earlier than usual... but I think that's a story for a different blog.
Anyway, following on from our walk, Dave popped out and I decided that because I couldn't think of anything better to do, I was going to clean the car. Starting with the inside. I couldn't handle both inside and out on the same day- the exterior had to wait until this morning.
I have to admit, it was a little bit tricky, attempting to clean the car when I couldn't find the right attachment for the hoover. It just made the experience that much more interesting... and time-consuming.
When I was satisfied with the vacuum cleaner, I graduated to the polish- something that can only be described as a very odd scientific experiment. You see- now half a can lighter, each time I sprayed the dashboard the polish just seemed to evaporate and vanish into thin air. It was as if Harry Potter were in the car, hidden under his invisibility cloak, playing a little prank. Oh Harry, what are you like?!
Having removed about a thousand receipts (perhaps an exaggeration... I suppose it was more like nine hundred and ninety nine), the car looked like a contestant on one of those before and after make-over shows- it was a shadow of it's former self. This meant, that the outside then had to match.
This morning, I went to one of those car washing places where you use the giant hose-thingy. Crumba! I pushed go and poof!, I was lucky to remain on two feet and not on the floor. There was so much pressure, which required much concentration. After many lapses, my trousers were cleaned up to the knees and my t-shirt also received a complimentary valet.
Driving off, I felt quite proud of my achievements (including remembering to close all the windows. This follows on from a previous experience. Two words: not good). I felt proud of my achievements until I got home and realised oh b*gg*r, I'd forgotten to clean under the doors. Oh well, I'd say that fact balances out the fact that I forgot to clean out the boot (or- and this sounds so much cooler: the trunk).
Happy car cleaning people, happy sunny days!
Mx
This weekend I decided to do something that I only do once a year. I have to wait until the weather is really good... and providing that I have nothing better to do, I make the decision to do this chore.
Spring is here, so that means that it's time to spring into action and do a spot of the ol' 'spring cleaning'. Usually, I do this begrudgingly, cleaning into the Summer over a period of months as it's too much to do everything on one day. Plus, I'm not like my Mum- I'm not that good at the cleaning as I just don't think that I'm disciplined enough (and yes Mum, if you are reading this, that is a compliment).
I woke up early yesterday morning and went for a glorious walk with Dave. As a consequence, my nose freckles have made an appearance many months earlier than usual... but I think that's a story for a different blog.
Anyway, following on from our walk, Dave popped out and I decided that because I couldn't think of anything better to do, I was going to clean the car. Starting with the inside. I couldn't handle both inside and out on the same day- the exterior had to wait until this morning.
I have to admit, it was a little bit tricky, attempting to clean the car when I couldn't find the right attachment for the hoover. It just made the experience that much more interesting... and time-consuming.
When I was satisfied with the vacuum cleaner, I graduated to the polish- something that can only be described as a very odd scientific experiment. You see- now half a can lighter, each time I sprayed the dashboard the polish just seemed to evaporate and vanish into thin air. It was as if Harry Potter were in the car, hidden under his invisibility cloak, playing a little prank. Oh Harry, what are you like?!
Having removed about a thousand receipts (perhaps an exaggeration... I suppose it was more like nine hundred and ninety nine), the car looked like a contestant on one of those before and after make-over shows- it was a shadow of it's former self. This meant, that the outside then had to match.
This morning, I went to one of those car washing places where you use the giant hose-thingy. Crumba! I pushed go and poof!, I was lucky to remain on two feet and not on the floor. There was so much pressure, which required much concentration. After many lapses, my trousers were cleaned up to the knees and my t-shirt also received a complimentary valet.
Driving off, I felt quite proud of my achievements (including remembering to close all the windows. This follows on from a previous experience. Two words: not good). I felt proud of my achievements until I got home and realised oh b*gg*r, I'd forgotten to clean under the doors. Oh well, I'd say that fact balances out the fact that I forgot to clean out the boot (or- and this sounds so much cooler: the trunk).
Happy car cleaning people, happy sunny days!
Mx
Friday, 23 March 2012
An honest opinion of my usual audience!
Hello friends! I write to you from a gloriously sunny spot in England... ahh, bliss. This blog really follows on from one I wrote just the other day- Yesterday, someone sat and snored throughout my concert.... To be honest, I'm still a bit miffed that the fella fell asleep. But it got me thinking. And then I got analysing.
I- Mildred McManus, have come up with a comprehensive review of the type of people that I usually get in my audience at a piano recital. I'm sure that many of you will know at least one of the following people in the categories I have given them. But if you don't know anyone who displays these traits, rest assured that one day you will!
I- Mildred McManus, have come up with a comprehensive review of the type of people that I usually get in my audience at a piano recital. I'm sure that many of you will know at least one of the following people in the categories I have given them. But if you don't know anyone who displays these traits, rest assured that one day you will!
- This sort of person I know very, very well. In fact, I know this kind of person so well, I am even related to one of them (yes Gma, that means you). Gma (Grandma) is often the main perpetrator I know and can always be sure to make her voice heard. I call Gma and her cronies: the-loud-whisperer's-that-think-they're-talking-quietly-but-not-er's.
- This one is usually guaranteed to be a good audience member, because they have made the effort to be there nice and promptly. This type of person is called: the-early-bird.
- So, if everything has an opposite, the ying to the yang of the early bird is called: the-late-comer. But sometimes, it just can't be helped.
- This is my favourite category: the-drink-obtainer-and-loo-dasher, because aren't the two interconnected? Doesn't one cause the other?
- This category drives. Me. Mad. I just wish that: the-I'm-really-bored-looking-people-but-I'm-secretly-enjoying-myself-but-don't-want-to-let-you-know-that people would do just two things. One; smile, and two; clap. This- in my experience, is the sort of person who will applaud half-heartedly throughout your recital, usually without even exercising their facial muscles into a smile. And yet, your evening will end and apparently- miraculously, somehow, you have been the highlight of their week?!
- This has happened to me only once. One day, a woman popped along to my recital. Ten minutes in, she proceeded to open a packet of crisps (aka chips) and then spent the next twenty-three minutes eating them loudly. After she'd finished, she placed the empty wrapper in her chair and then walked out in the middle of my recital. I call her: the-food-nosher.
- Lastly, we have: the-cougher-and-part-time-sneezer. Not nice, especially if you're in a small room...
So, here ends this blog. Next time you go to a concert, keep an eye out and maybe- just maybe, you'll be presently surprised!
Mildred x
Tuesday, 20 March 2012
When is the right time to hold hands?
Hello dear friends, sincerest apologies for my longer than usual absence! I have not forgotten to write- honestly. I've just found my time this last week has been zapped- boom!, and it was gone.
But, I have- of course, been thinking since I last wrote to you. I mean, I probably don't need to tell you that as I'm sure you're probably aware that I'm always thinking... there's never a quiet moment in my mind (regardless of whether these thoughts are more of a pondering; a musing, or just a good old fashioned day dream).
Anyway, anyway, I got thinking about a subject matter very dear to me. In case you're wondering, it's the age old question of holding hands. Yes, I'm sure that Jane Austen and her cronies had something to say on the matter, but their opinions were written in the day when a woman flashing a teeny bit of ankle was deemed risque. But what about now? The question I pose to you is: when it is the right moment to hold your boyfriend's hand for the first time?
I can only go by my own experience. I remember my first hand holding experience with Dave. It wasn't as romantic as perhaps it could have been, but it was memorable.
Dave and I were in a field.
Filled with cows.
Cows that looked angry.
We'd been for a nice walk and watched a beautiful sunset and so far- no hand holding. Having watched the sunset, we realised that we were millions (or what felt like millions) of steps away from the car. Then, we realised that we'd be walking back in the dark. Without a torch (or if you're in America, we had no flashlight). Ooh la la!
After a while, we reached the top of a hill only to find that it was full of menacing looking cows. Bear in mind, I was wearing a red jacket, so obviously feeling rather nervous. I don't know if cows have a problem with the colour red the way that bulls do... but they are related so I suppose it's possible. I just thought, 'cripes- this is it!' But that thought was promptly followed with a 'fiddle-sticks... why did I have to wear red?!'
Anyway, I think that my nervousness must have been evident in my facial expressions, no matter how hard I tried to pretend otherwise. Dave turned to me, looked me in the eye and then went on to announce that he thought it would be for the best if I stayed close. I nodded. Then he took my hand in his and all of a sudden, voila! We were holding hands and it felt right. Simply perfect.
I don't really know if there is an answer to my initial question, but what I will say is that I think that the moment you first hold hands will happen when neither of you is thinking about it. I was lucky, as I got to be a kind-of damsel in distress and Dave could then step up to the mark! He got to be the Prince that rescued the damsel and we both went on to live happily ever after.
The end. No, it's the beginning.
Mildred x
But, I have- of course, been thinking since I last wrote to you. I mean, I probably don't need to tell you that as I'm sure you're probably aware that I'm always thinking... there's never a quiet moment in my mind (regardless of whether these thoughts are more of a pondering; a musing, or just a good old fashioned day dream).
Anyway, anyway, I got thinking about a subject matter very dear to me. In case you're wondering, it's the age old question of holding hands. Yes, I'm sure that Jane Austen and her cronies had something to say on the matter, but their opinions were written in the day when a woman flashing a teeny bit of ankle was deemed risque. But what about now? The question I pose to you is: when it is the right moment to hold your boyfriend's hand for the first time?
I can only go by my own experience. I remember my first hand holding experience with Dave. It wasn't as romantic as perhaps it could have been, but it was memorable.
Dave and I were in a field.
Filled with cows.
Cows that looked angry.
We'd been for a nice walk and watched a beautiful sunset and so far- no hand holding. Having watched the sunset, we realised that we were millions (or what felt like millions) of steps away from the car. Then, we realised that we'd be walking back in the dark. Without a torch (or if you're in America, we had no flashlight). Ooh la la!
After a while, we reached the top of a hill only to find that it was full of menacing looking cows. Bear in mind, I was wearing a red jacket, so obviously feeling rather nervous. I don't know if cows have a problem with the colour red the way that bulls do... but they are related so I suppose it's possible. I just thought, 'cripes- this is it!' But that thought was promptly followed with a 'fiddle-sticks... why did I have to wear red?!'
Anyway, I think that my nervousness must have been evident in my facial expressions, no matter how hard I tried to pretend otherwise. Dave turned to me, looked me in the eye and then went on to announce that he thought it would be for the best if I stayed close. I nodded. Then he took my hand in his and all of a sudden, voila! We were holding hands and it felt right. Simply perfect.
I don't really know if there is an answer to my initial question, but what I will say is that I think that the moment you first hold hands will happen when neither of you is thinking about it. I was lucky, as I got to be a kind-of damsel in distress and Dave could then step up to the mark! He got to be the Prince that rescued the damsel and we both went on to live happily ever after.
Mildred x
Wednesday, 14 March 2012
FILM REVIEW: Wanderlust
FILM: Wanderlust
GENRE: Comedy
CAST: Jennifer Aniston, Paul Rudd, Justin Theroux and Malin Akerman
DIRECTOR: David Wain
YEAR: 2012
WHY ARE THE CAST FAMILIAR?: Being a Jennifer Aniston fan, I have seen quite a few of her films so I'll pick my favourites. Where it all began: as 'Rachel' in Friends, 'Jenny' in Marley and Me, 'Dr Julia Harris' in the totally and utterly hilarious Horrible Bosses and 'Grace' in Bruce Almighty. Firstly I know Paul Rudd from Friends- as the one who marries Phoebe, but also from... actually, I haven't seen him in anything else, but in case you have he played 'Tim' in Dinner for Schmucks and 'Pete' in Knocked Up. I wasn't familiar with Justin Theroux until I saw him with Jennifer Aniston in a magazine as her boyfriend, but apparently he played 'Megamind's Dad' in Megamind. Malin Akerman (a woman... Malin is quite an unusual name) was in Couples Retreat as 'Ronnie' and played 'Tess' in 27 Dresses.
My review:
After perusing the cinema listings- not really sure what I wanted to see, I eventually settled on this film: Wanderlust. I suppose- if I'm honest, perhaps I was a little swayed by the fact that Jennifer Aniston was in the film. I've always liked her, ever since I became a watcher of Friends. Usually, the films that she's in are generally rather good- albeit sometimes a little 'safe'. But whatever she's in, her comic timing is usually fabulous. However, what I will say is that I don't think that this is an example of her finest work. All the actors give great performances, but the story is- in parts, a little bit weird. I felt that this weirdness almost compromises some convincing performances, sometimes causing an uncomfortable viewing experience.
The plot basically follows the lives of Linda (Aniston) and her husband George (Rudd). In the midst of an oh-so-familiar recession, they decide to buy a property. Unfortunately just a few days later, said property is rendered worthless. As if that wasn't bad enough, on the same day George loses his job and Linda's pitch for a documentary goes disastrously wrong. In short, they are more-or-less left penniless and jobless. So not good.
With nowhere to go, George and Linda go to stay with George's brother who's only purpose in life (it seems), is to make George as miserable as possible. But before they get to George's brother, the couple stumble across a hippy commune called 'Elysium'. Realising that they can't stay with George's brother, George and Linda return to 'Elysium' to begin a new life as hippies. At this moment in time, this is when you- as an audience- have to put your open-minded thinking cap on!
Initially reluctant, Linda adapts to this new lifestyle whilst George feels more and more out of place. No matter how hard he tries to fit in, George never quite succeeds and is frequently shown up by Seth (Theroux).
When this free-spirited community is threatened by the corporate commercial world, the residents conquer and divide as they attempt to save their homes from being decimated. It is at this point, that I found I could empathise most with the characters. I found myself supporting their cause as the lifestyle that they lead seems idyllic and innocent- I didn't want the cold-hearted businessman to destroy this place of happiness that they had created. Perhaps this is born of a desire to be able to bottle their happiness and simplicity of life, and then inject it into reality? 'Elysium' was a place of calm where there was no bad news, corporate greed, commercialism or anything nasty. I found this to be a refreshing change and wished that that blissful ignorance to everything negative in the world could be made real.
Yes, there was a double walkout during this film. But I didn't feel the desire to leave. I wanted to know what happened to George and Linda. Yet when the final credits were rolling, I wasn't left thinking about George and Linda. I walked out of the cinema feeling almost bamboozled by what I'd seen- as if I'd been part of this dream that George and Linda live; that I was coming back to reality. Yes, that's it. This film- for 98 minutes, enables you to suspend reality and be a part of this totally alien lifestyle. All in all, a clever, funny and thought-provoking film. If your disillusioned with life, watch this and then you'll feel content by the end of this movie.
My rating: * * *
GENRE: Comedy
CAST: Jennifer Aniston, Paul Rudd, Justin Theroux and Malin Akerman
DIRECTOR: David Wain
YEAR: 2012
WHY ARE THE CAST FAMILIAR?: Being a Jennifer Aniston fan, I have seen quite a few of her films so I'll pick my favourites. Where it all began: as 'Rachel' in Friends, 'Jenny' in Marley and Me, 'Dr Julia Harris' in the totally and utterly hilarious Horrible Bosses and 'Grace' in Bruce Almighty. Firstly I know Paul Rudd from Friends- as the one who marries Phoebe, but also from... actually, I haven't seen him in anything else, but in case you have he played 'Tim' in Dinner for Schmucks and 'Pete' in Knocked Up. I wasn't familiar with Justin Theroux until I saw him with Jennifer Aniston in a magazine as her boyfriend, but apparently he played 'Megamind's Dad' in Megamind. Malin Akerman (a woman... Malin is quite an unusual name) was in Couples Retreat as 'Ronnie' and played 'Tess' in 27 Dresses.
My review:
After perusing the cinema listings- not really sure what I wanted to see, I eventually settled on this film: Wanderlust. I suppose- if I'm honest, perhaps I was a little swayed by the fact that Jennifer Aniston was in the film. I've always liked her, ever since I became a watcher of Friends. Usually, the films that she's in are generally rather good- albeit sometimes a little 'safe'. But whatever she's in, her comic timing is usually fabulous. However, what I will say is that I don't think that this is an example of her finest work. All the actors give great performances, but the story is- in parts, a little bit weird. I felt that this weirdness almost compromises some convincing performances, sometimes causing an uncomfortable viewing experience.
The plot basically follows the lives of Linda (Aniston) and her husband George (Rudd). In the midst of an oh-so-familiar recession, they decide to buy a property. Unfortunately just a few days later, said property is rendered worthless. As if that wasn't bad enough, on the same day George loses his job and Linda's pitch for a documentary goes disastrously wrong. In short, they are more-or-less left penniless and jobless. So not good.
With nowhere to go, George and Linda go to stay with George's brother who's only purpose in life (it seems), is to make George as miserable as possible. But before they get to George's brother, the couple stumble across a hippy commune called 'Elysium'. Realising that they can't stay with George's brother, George and Linda return to 'Elysium' to begin a new life as hippies. At this moment in time, this is when you- as an audience- have to put your open-minded thinking cap on!
Initially reluctant, Linda adapts to this new lifestyle whilst George feels more and more out of place. No matter how hard he tries to fit in, George never quite succeeds and is frequently shown up by Seth (Theroux).
When this free-spirited community is threatened by the corporate commercial world, the residents conquer and divide as they attempt to save their homes from being decimated. It is at this point, that I found I could empathise most with the characters. I found myself supporting their cause as the lifestyle that they lead seems idyllic and innocent- I didn't want the cold-hearted businessman to destroy this place of happiness that they had created. Perhaps this is born of a desire to be able to bottle their happiness and simplicity of life, and then inject it into reality? 'Elysium' was a place of calm where there was no bad news, corporate greed, commercialism or anything nasty. I found this to be a refreshing change and wished that that blissful ignorance to everything negative in the world could be made real.
Yes, there was a double walkout during this film. But I didn't feel the desire to leave. I wanted to know what happened to George and Linda. Yet when the final credits were rolling, I wasn't left thinking about George and Linda. I walked out of the cinema feeling almost bamboozled by what I'd seen- as if I'd been part of this dream that George and Linda live; that I was coming back to reality. Yes, that's it. This film- for 98 minutes, enables you to suspend reality and be a part of this totally alien lifestyle. All in all, a clever, funny and thought-provoking film. If your disillusioned with life, watch this and then you'll feel content by the end of this movie.
My rating: * * *
Tuesday, 13 March 2012
Yesterday, someone sat and snored throughout my concert... am I that bad?!
Quite amusing really, but I must repeat this title as yesterday, someone sat and snored throughout my concert... Please tell me: am I really that bad?!
I repeat this title as I dedicate this blog to any musicians who have ever experienced the misfortune of having someone fall asleep and then proceed to snore throughout their recital. Yesterday, this is what happened to me.
Okay, I'll admit that I'm not playing rock music or anything like that... but still, there are some concert rules of etiquette one should abide by. I'd say that the first is quite possibly also the last: simply stay awake. This is a rule that appeared to have bypassed this man who- to make life easier (as there are many men this could be), we shall call Norman.
Yesterday, my concert was fairly traditional in content. It featured some of the greats- Mozart, Beethoven, Elgar, McManus (me) and of course, Henry the Eighth. Now don't get me wrong- it wasn't boring at all. I had that audience in the palm of my hand- one moment they were laughing (which is a good thing); the next they were crying (which- in case you were unsure, is a good thing). I was in my element, entertaining them and regaling them with tales of my misfortune in between pieces (which- in case you didn't realise, is also a good thing as it makes the audience like you... I think... I hope!).
I was having a wonderful time- as were the audience. I didn't feel like I was working (that means it's going well) and I hadn't yet laddered my tights (a good sign). Life was tickety-boo.
At least it was tickety-boo until the evening was interrupted by Norman and his gigantic snort. It was a like a beacon of sound that signalled an unyielding steady rumblicious and continuous sound. I simply raised my eyebrows in surprise; but playing to an intimate audience in a hotel, I wasn't really in a position to put an end to Norman's roadwork impressions. I was simply going to leave that to one of the other guests. You know, they'd complain and he'd stop.
But to my immense surprise, nobody said anything! Either they were too polite or too embarrassed on Norman's behalf. Even his wife didn't give him a friendly prod. No no, she simply cast a sureptitious glance around the room, picked up her handbag and gave her husband one last pitying look as she crossed to the other side of the room. Then she sat down, took a sip of her drink and turned to me; "As you were dear", as if she couldn't hear a thing. Maybe she couldn't. Maybe Norman wasn't even her husband. I don't know, but what I do know is that I still had 24 and a half minutes left to fill with this lawnmower in the background.
So, following the lead of the audience, I simply ignored Norman and pretended I couldn't hear a thing. I have to admit, that was quite a feat- especially when Norman was louder than the piano. Yep, that took some professional pretending that did.
I even tried some old-school techniques... You know, playing a couple of quieter numbers to relax the audience, followed by a super-duper loud blast of loudness in the hope that this would startle Norman back into life. But no, not a peep. I'm telling you now, this man was sleeping like it was going out of fashion. He was snoozing like his life depended on it, but more than anything, he was making me look bad... Thanks Norm.
Anyway, anyway, anyway, as any musician will know, the golden rule of performance is to just keep going (though I'm sure that's also the general rule of life). So I kept going until the end, when my finale was met with rapturous applause. As the audience were leaving, I went through the obligatory chit-chat that usually follows a performance, often complete with several bonus handshakes. This is the moment of total irony- wait for it... Norman came up to me and proceeded to tell me what a wonderful time he'd had- how much he'd enjoyed the music and blah blah blah. Then he shook my hand and gave it a rather cheeky squeeze, before thanking me for giving him the best nights sleep he'd had in a fortnight. Then he walked off. Thank you Norman.
I don't think I have anything else left to say. Once again, Norman has left me speechless.
Mildred x
PS If you are a musician and this happens to you, don't worry. Apparently it's a compliment...
I repeat this title as I dedicate this blog to any musicians who have ever experienced the misfortune of having someone fall asleep and then proceed to snore throughout their recital. Yesterday, this is what happened to me.
Okay, I'll admit that I'm not playing rock music or anything like that... but still, there are some concert rules of etiquette one should abide by. I'd say that the first is quite possibly also the last: simply stay awake. This is a rule that appeared to have bypassed this man who- to make life easier (as there are many men this could be), we shall call Norman.
Yesterday, my concert was fairly traditional in content. It featured some of the greats- Mozart, Beethoven, Elgar, McManus (me) and of course, Henry the Eighth. Now don't get me wrong- it wasn't boring at all. I had that audience in the palm of my hand- one moment they were laughing (which is a good thing); the next they were crying (which- in case you were unsure, is a good thing). I was in my element, entertaining them and regaling them with tales of my misfortune in between pieces (which- in case you didn't realise, is also a good thing as it makes the audience like you... I think... I hope!).
I was having a wonderful time- as were the audience. I didn't feel like I was working (that means it's going well) and I hadn't yet laddered my tights (a good sign). Life was tickety-boo.
At least it was tickety-boo until the evening was interrupted by Norman and his gigantic snort. It was a like a beacon of sound that signalled an unyielding steady rumblicious and continuous sound. I simply raised my eyebrows in surprise; but playing to an intimate audience in a hotel, I wasn't really in a position to put an end to Norman's roadwork impressions. I was simply going to leave that to one of the other guests. You know, they'd complain and he'd stop.
But to my immense surprise, nobody said anything! Either they were too polite or too embarrassed on Norman's behalf. Even his wife didn't give him a friendly prod. No no, she simply cast a sureptitious glance around the room, picked up her handbag and gave her husband one last pitying look as she crossed to the other side of the room. Then she sat down, took a sip of her drink and turned to me; "As you were dear", as if she couldn't hear a thing. Maybe she couldn't. Maybe Norman wasn't even her husband. I don't know, but what I do know is that I still had 24 and a half minutes left to fill with this lawnmower in the background.
So, following the lead of the audience, I simply ignored Norman and pretended I couldn't hear a thing. I have to admit, that was quite a feat- especially when Norman was louder than the piano. Yep, that took some professional pretending that did.
I even tried some old-school techniques... You know, playing a couple of quieter numbers to relax the audience, followed by a super-duper loud blast of loudness in the hope that this would startle Norman back into life. But no, not a peep. I'm telling you now, this man was sleeping like it was going out of fashion. He was snoozing like his life depended on it, but more than anything, he was making me look bad... Thanks Norm.
Anyway, anyway, anyway, as any musician will know, the golden rule of performance is to just keep going (though I'm sure that's also the general rule of life). So I kept going until the end, when my finale was met with rapturous applause. As the audience were leaving, I went through the obligatory chit-chat that usually follows a performance, often complete with several bonus handshakes. This is the moment of total irony- wait for it... Norman came up to me and proceeded to tell me what a wonderful time he'd had- how much he'd enjoyed the music and blah blah blah. Then he shook my hand and gave it a rather cheeky squeeze, before thanking me for giving him the best nights sleep he'd had in a fortnight. Then he walked off. Thank you Norman.
I don't think I have anything else left to say. Once again, Norman has left me speechless.
Mildred x
PS If you are a musician and this happens to you, don't worry. Apparently it's a compliment...
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