Pride and Prejudice

Greetings from sunny Mauritius! I’m currently typing this from my hotel room at 6:30pm, having enjoyed a week of sun, sea and sand in the Southern Hemisphere. But this post is not entirely to make you jealous. Since I have had a great deal of time on my hands, I have been reading an awful lot (well, for me, anyway). After devouring Ursula Le Guin‘s fantastic The Left Hand of Darkness, which I really enjoyed, I changed tack completely and decided to finally get down and read Pride and Prejudice. I know, I know, how can I not have read it already? I simply never got round to it. In my defence, I make a point of not reading romance novels, simply because although I enjoy a romantic subplot as much as the next bibliophile, I prefer my books to have some bigger plot to carry them forward. Owing to this opinion, I had always avoided P&P, because I was afraid that I would find it boring, and then have to explain my view to all the people I know who revere it and esteem it so highly. But I decided that the time really had come, and that I could put it off no longer.

I had already seen the recent film, although I have never seen the older TV series with Colin Firth. I found the film alright, but as I’m not a great fan of Keira Knightley, it bored me a little. What really got me interested in P&P was the BBC series Lost in Austen. I’ve now watched it all the way through twice, and I have to say that I absolutely loved it. This, probably above all else, made me determined to give the book a try. I can’t tell you exactly why the TV series was so enjoyable to me, but I think the actor playing Darcy, Elliot Cowan, was a great factor, and also it was extremely funny and entertaining throughout. The plot was not as formulaic as I was expecting, and kept me guessing right to the end. I won’t spoil it for anyone who hasn’t seen it, but I will heartily recommend it as a something quite out of the ordinary. But on to the book.

I have to say that I did find quite a bit of it fairly boring. It was a pretty straightforward romance, with only a few moments of unexpected action to break the endless passages about men and courting and marriage and love and infatuation. Of course, it didn’t help that I knew the plot so well in advance, and I’m sure it was more surprising to readers who don’t. I also have to say that I didn’t find the writing style that easy to take. Not because it was archaic, far from it. I read Eliot and Dickens for pleasure, and I really quite enjoy their meandering, convoluted styles. I was surprised that Austen, despite being even older than them, was in many ways more straightforward to read. But for me the writing itself came off as rather naive and even quite grating at times, especially towards the beginning. She had a habit of presenting a character, and then describing their personality immediately, instead of letting the reader try to figure it out themselves. For example, she would present Miss Jane Bennett, and then straight afterwards declare her to be shy and retiring and very pretty. This got very trying after a while, as it felt like a cop-out that the author couldn’t display these character traits through their writing in any other way than explicitly mentioning them.

I also could not find much of the ‘sparkling wit’ that P&P is supposed to exemplify. Some of the characters were mildly amusing in their eccentricities, but they had nothing on Dickens’ caricatures, and what ‘satire’ the notes in the back of my copy could find seemed simply to be obscure references to obscure books that the author might have read and be commenting on, rather than anything more wide-ranging. I’m sure they were hilarious to her immediate family, but I’m not so convinced that even readers contemporary with its publication would have got many of the ‘jokes’.

The book certainly grew on me as I progressed, and I did enjoy many of the scenes between Darcy and Elizabeth. I found Darcy to be the most interesting character by leagues, and I liked that he was a more realistic one than I had expected from the film, because you can read some of the introspections that go on at the beginning, which of course are hard to convey via film. But I found Elizabeth a bit annoying as a narrator. She changed her mind so abruptly on reading Darcy’s letter and on seeing Pemberley that it seemed almost mercenary. She was so eager to judge him at the start, and then so quickly fell in love with him that it seemed highly implausible to me. I could understand him loving her, and I wouldn’t have found it so hard to imagine her falling in love with him, but again the writing style got in the way for me. Austen rarely writes long passages of conversation for her heroine, preferring to paraphrase the action ‘Elizabeth expressed her feelings to Darcy…’ This made it hard for me to really feel for her, since I couldn’t really tell what her feelings were. We are merely told that she fell in love with him, and although the descriptions of her growing regard for him are very charming, I couldn’t really find them plausible without hearing them from her own mouth, as it were.

The book had some lovely scenes. I really liked Darcy’s first proposal, and Elizabeth giving Lady Catherine a piece of her mind, and there were some great moments and descriptions of infatuation and growing love. And I did like the written dialogue very much – the way the characters speak is charming and quaint and very fun to read and imagine. But all in all, I just couldn’t see what all the fuss was about. I was as in love with Darcy as most female readers, I imagine, are, but I found Elizabeth so hard to sympathise with that I didn’t really care about the outcome. As a romance it was mildly entertaining, but I found the scenes that weren’t about Elizabeth and Darcy, or about Lydia and Wickham, to be rather dull without the drive of a separate plot. But it got me interested enough to want to see the Colin Firth version, I suppose.

More Craft, and a little literature

Sorry, I haven’t that much to update here, as I’ve been on holiday again, this time to Belfast. I had a lovely time exploring the city on my own for four days, and I did a lot of reading. Which included Tracy Chevalier’s Remarkable Creatures. Tracy Chevalier is probably most famous for her novel Girl with a Pearl Earring, which was made into a film with Colin Firth and Scarlett Johansson (in one of her earliest big roles, after Lost in Translation). I actually prefer her novel The Lady and the Unicorn, which is about the famous Flemish tapestries, but I prefer both to Remarkable Creatures, which is certainly not one of her best.

Ms Chevalier specialises in European historical fiction. She likes to find a subject or a few characters, often with a basis in culture, about which little is known, or which have some mystery surrounding them, and then she writes a story around this. So her novels which I have read, apart from The Virgin Blue, are all about real people. The Virgin Blue is still historical, but I think the characters and the plot are completely fictional, and there is some present-day action as well. To me, it is her weakest novel that I have read. I have read all of her books bar one: Falling Angels, and I don’t know anything about that. She writes very well, but for me Remarkable Creatures was fairly slow-moving, and not very interesting. It was made slightly more interesting, strangely, after I finished it, and found out from the notes in the back that both the main characters had really lived and performed most of the action in the book itself. It is set in 19th Century Lyme Regis, and follows the pursuits of two female fossil collectors from very different backgrounds who struggle to get their extraordinary finds credited to them and get the acclaim they deserve. It’s fairly good, but I feel an author shouldn’t really rely on historical accuracy to lend her books more interest than her writing does. I would suggest people read Girl with a Pearl Earring, or The Lady and the Unicorn, or possibly Burning Bright, (which is about the poet William Blake), instead.

The second part of this entry is a brief craft update on something new. I have been doing cross-stitch, but the project is a present, and so I won’t post it here just yet. This is about a different project that I laid aside for a while and which is moving into its second phase. The plan was to make a satchel-type bag covered in train tickets, those uniform orange and black tickets that rail services across Britain give out and print. I made the bag several months ago, hand-sewn, and then set about collecting train tickets. I soon realised that I would need an awful lot of them to cover it, so I enlisted the help of my friends. Many of them obliged very generously, and I now have several hundred tickets to use, so I decided to make a start.

Since the bag would need to be at least partially waterproof, I laminated the tickets. Of course, then I couldn’t sew them directly onto the fabric, being too thick. So I holepunched the corners and attached them there with buttons, so that the tickets overlapped. I’ve also been collecting interesting buttons to use, and I have quite a collection now. I’ve only done a few tickets on the satchel’s flap, which I’m doing so that the white back of the tickets shows, to contrast with the orange for the rest, but it seems to be holding up well. It’s not at all flexible, though, so I’m leaving a space above what I’ve done so that the flap can fold over. I might use this to my advantage later, when I do the body of the bag, to give it some shape at the sides, which it doesn’t have at the moment, because I didn’t line it. We shall see. It’s a fairly slow process, but I hope to finish it satisfactorily and then show it off everywhere!

Train-Ticket Bag 26/08/10

Train-Ticket Satchel

Books & Bookshops

This is basically Victoriana, so I thought I’d share. Don’t you just love old books? The smell, the feel of the leather, the really thin pages that you have to be careful with. That’s pretty much the only reason I like the Bible: the feel of Bible pages is uniquely cool. I haven’t read that many classics in my life, although I’ve read all of George Eliot’s novels, and a few Dickens stories, but I have quite a lot of old books around the house, and I love seeing them on the shelves.

After books, it’s got to be bookshops. I love all kinds – the new shiny Waterstones and Blackwell’s, where there are so many new releases and hardbacks that I would never buy at their extortionate prices, but love to look at on the shelves; the really tiny second-hand bookshops where you can’t find anything that you came in looking for but you always leave with books you never knew you wanted; the online marketplaces like Amazon and AbeBooks where you can actually just search and it finds them for you, preferably with pictures. Good times.

I went to the most fantastic second-hand bookshop in Buxton yesterday. It is called Scrivener’s, and it is in quite a small building that somehow has five floors crammed full of millions of books. It also offers expert bookbinding and restoration, which was very cool to look at. And it specialises in Victorian Books. What could be better? This being Buxton they also had a huge collection of Gilbert  & Sullivan works, which was nice. I found a lovely leather bound copy of Daniel Deronda, which was my first and favourite Eliot (ok, I’m weird), but it was £30 so I had to restrain myself. However, I bought a tiny copy of Descartes’ Discours de la Methode, in French, since I’ll have to read it in English fairly soon anyway, and my French could do with some brushing up. I also bought a gorgeous book of Schubert songs:

Schubert Songs

Schubert Songs

I love it. I know quite a few of them anyway, but it’s such an amazing copy, and for just £15. I bought another book as well, and it should have come to £21 in total, but the shop-owner sold them to me for just£15! So I thoroughly recommend browsing this shop. The only thing that bothered me a little was the sheer disorganisation. I work part-time in a library, so having to search the entire letter section, plus the end of the previous section and the start of the next section to find a book grates a little. If they’d pay me I’d happily spend time sorting it out, because it’s really very well organised into genres and spaces, it’s just the books within them that are hopelessly out of place.

Speaking of second-hand bookshops, the best one I have ever been to is Barter Books in Alnwick, Northumberland. It’s much, much bigger than Scrivener’s, as it’s in a building that used to be a train station. It’s all on the ground floor, but it has huge numbers of books, and dvds and videos now. A lot of collector’s items and first editions that are way out of most people’s price ranges, but they have a tier system for ordinary books, rather than pricing each individually, which can work to your advantage. I have far too many books from there.

Other than that, I’m off to Belfast for a few days tomorrow, so don’t expect more news. The cross stitch continues to grow!

20/08/2010

Oxford Cross Stitch

Buxton & Craft

Since I have been away, my blog readership has dwindled away to nothing. Never mind, this will soon be remedied.

I have been away on a suitably Victoriana-themed trip – singing at the 17th International Gilbert & Sullivan festival in a production of Princess Ida with the Oxford University Gilbert and Sullivan Society. This was my third performance at the festival, but my first with the Oxford Society, and my first in their beautiful opera house and Buxton’s delights did not disappoint. The only difficulty for me was the lack of electricity (I was camping), internet, and readily available food. Ah well.

The rest of this short entry is to show a little bit of craft that I have been working on for a while. I have been making cross-stitches for as long as I can remember, predominantly from kits, but also a few of my own designing. My favourite one to date currently hangs framed on my wall:

Japanese Cross Stitch

Japanese Cross Stitch

Another favourite craft project is the following cushion cover:

Terry Pratchett Cushion Cover

Terry Pratchett Cushion Cover

The cross stitch was from a kit, and features members of the Unseen University from Terry Pratchett’s Discworld series. From left to right they are the Dean, the Librarian, the Archchancellor and the Bursar. The cushion cover part of it I made myself from first principles, which was very challenging!

Which brings us to the present day. At the moment I am working on a beautiful skyline of Oxford, where I go to university, again from a kit. I’m about half way through. I hope to keep running photos of it as I go along, so you and I can see how it progresses. Here it is at the moment:

Oxford Cross Stitch

Oxford Cross Stitch

It will eventually reach about double that width, though no taller. You can see other things I’ve made over the years at my deviantArt page.

Happy Blogging!

Inception

So, Inception. New film by Christopher Nolan, fantastic British film-maker who has previously made The Prestige, The Dark Knight, Batman Begins, Memento and Insomnia. Often works with his brother, Jonathan Nolan, who writes screenplays and other things. Generally all-round good egg. I’ve now seen this film twice (as well as all of the above-mentioned films) and, although I don’t consider it his best, it’s still my favourite new film of the year by a parsec or two.

But firstly,

*Spoilers*

Got that? Good.

Great film. Anyone complaining that it’s too complicated is someone who didn’t try hard enough. No, I’m kidding. But this film does require a high level of concentration. Not as much as Memento, though. At least Inception gives you a few breathers here and there where you can try and work out what’s going on without missing important plot points. Fantastic cast performances, most notably by Marion Cotillard and Leonardo DiCaprio, but also from Cillian Murphy, Ken Watanabe, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Tom Hardy and Ellen Page. For those who spent a long time wondering how they knew various actors, Gordon-Levitt is the boy from Third Rock from the Sun. Ellen Page is the girl from Juno, Marion Cotillard was in Public Enemies, Cillian Murphy was in The Dark Knight and Red Eye, and Ken Watanabe was in The Last Samurai. Problems solved.

Seriously though, this is an amazing film. The effects are gorgeous, as are the sets and locations. The characters are good, wholesome fun, if not massively fleshed out (there just isn’t time amongst all the plot), and there is a lot of emotional trauma and excitement that tempts you along to end in a great catharsis. I love Nolan’s ability to tie everything up at the end of films, leaving it exactly where he wants it with no mistaking the ending. Plenty of mistaking the middle, but you kind of forget that because the ending is so beautifully fitting for the film. He has a habit of making the first scene be something that makes no sense at the time but which later becomes crucial (in The Prestige, for example), and this is exactly what he does here. The first sequence is very much a tutorial in the whole ‘Extraction’ process, but is fun enough that it doesn’t seem like a load of jargon to get you to understand the rest. In general I didn’t find that there were too many jargon-filled scenes – it was quite successfully drip-fed to the audience so they didn’t get bored of being told the details.

I believe that somewhere, probably in hundreds of pages of notes, Christopher Nolan has worked out the entire plot and system, and that it all works. However, even after the second viewing, there are some plot holes that I cannot answer.  They will be discussed below. However, I do not think that, even after spotting them, they detracted from my enjoyment of the film in any way. It’s so fast-paced and exciting that I couldn’t care less. The characters are funny, and the plot is very enjoyable (let’s not bring plausibility into this review, it has no place here), although there was rather too much snowy shooting towards the last third of the film. This was the only place where I got completely lost as to what was going on, and that was because I couldn’t tell who was shooting whom!

A lot of people have speculated at great length about the ending, about whether or not Cobb’s totem was going to stop spinning, and if it was, what that means for the film: was he in a dream the whole thing? Was the whole thing a mass ‘Inception’ of an idea into the minds of the audience? Did he just never get out of Limbo? This is very similar to me to the people who claim that The Prestige is just a massive ‘Pledge, Turn, Prestige’ magic trick on the audience, and although that all sounds very nice, is not of very much interest, to me at least; it’s just a sentence of fancy words. I can honestly say that I don’t mind whether the totem would have fallen or not, or even if there was no answer at all. I just think it’s fantastic how cleverly Nolan sets up that last scene, with completely conflicting points on both sides of the argument. On the one hand, Cobb’s children have not aged at all, they are wearing the same clothes, they are living in the same house. On the other, the totem seems to be about to fall, all the preceding scenes look like they should follow on from the previous real scenes (the airport, immigration, seeing Michael Caine), and it seems highly unlikely that the entire film was a dream. Well, that’s not true. It’s not so much unlikely that the whole film was a dream of Cobb’s as simply incoherent. Then his totem would never have acted in reality and so it no longer functions to tell us whether or not he’s there, so it’s just meaningless to say that what appears to be reality to us is not, because we’ve no idea what reality is then; we’ve never seen it. On the other hand, it is more plausible to say that Cobb simply never woke up from Limbo, and remained there, but the airport scenes are newly constructed fantasies, and this is presumably the other option. Again, I don’t really mind. I don’t think there is supposed to be an answer that you can work out, but that the last scene is just supposed to keep you guessing.

A related interesting thing is the way that the apparently real scenes have lots of dreamlike qualities. The scene for example when Cobb is being chased through Mombasa and has to squeeze through the tight gap between buildings is something familiar in dreams, as is the scene where Mal kills herself by jumping off a building rather than a more traditional form of suicide. I’m not suggesting that this means anything more than that Nolan was clever, and liked to introduce a few seeds of doubt all the way through. Can’t make it too easy for people.

All in all, I thought this was a brilliant film, and that everyone should see it, but that they should be prepared to concentrate. And I can honestly say that it was better on the second watching.

Plot-Holes

So, on the first watching I thought I found some plot-holes, and I’ve heard a few others since then. I thought I’d outline them, and my possible resolutions of them, and encourage comments. I really do think that somehow Chris Nolan has the answers to these, but that doesn’t mean that he necessarily gave enough information away in the final cut of the film for audience to work them out. This may have been intentional, or it may simply have happened on revisions and edits to get the film down to its runtime. Who knows?

1) Firstly, there’s one that my friend pointed out to me, and it’s not a massive one. Why does Cobb, when he’s on the plane with Fischer, go to all the trouble of stealing his passport and talking to him, and ordering water to spike his drink, when he’s bought out the airhostess?  He could quite easily just have got her to drug Fischer and we wouldn’t have needed all the fuss

Personally, I think this was just a liberty to make that scene of the film more exciting and interesting, nothing more. He could clearly have done that with the airhostess, but it wouldn’t have been as fun to watch or as cleverly worked out. What can you do?

2) Kicks. Kicks confuse the hell out of me. In a normal dream situation, like the first sequence, the dreamer is given the sensation of falling in reality, and this wakes them up. It can take a few seconds, especially if they are under sedation, and can also be made sure by dropping the dreamer in water. This is what happens to Cobb in the first sequence, and it takes him a few seconds to snap out of it.

In the last sequence, because the dreamers will be several dream layers down, they need to synchronise kicks to bring them up through all the layers at once. Why? What is wrong with just kicking up a layer at a time? So Arthur kicks Eames, Ariadne, Cobb, Saito, Fischer and possibly Browning, and they wake up in the Hotel level. Then Yusuf drives the van off and wakes all the rest up. I don’t remember this being explained.

Nevertheless, let’s accept that they all need to happen close to simultaneously. When they miss the first kick, the Hotel level loses gravity because the guys in the car are falling. I can understand that this wouldn’t wake up all the people in the Snow level, because they are not being kicked themselves. But why doesn’t it wake up Arthur? He’s only one level deeper than the van, on the Hotel level. Surely the kick should work as per usual for him and he should wake up. But he doesn’t. Funny.

Ok, tricky one. There’s a certain amount of guesswork going into this, but my explanation is that for some unexplained reason, you have to either die, or at the very least fall, in the deepest level, as well as on all the levels above, to get a kick. This is backed up by the fact that Eames is prepared to blow up the Snow level for the kick. Normally, nothing has to happen within the dream, it’s only in reality or the next level up that the dreamer has to fall. So why prepare him to blow them up? That would also explain why Arthur needed to fall with the dreamers in the Hotel level so that he can wake up with them in the Van level. And why Ariadne had to jump off the building in Limbo so that she could wake up in the Snow level. I’m not sure whether you have to die or just fall, though. We know that if you die in Limbo you wake up, but I’m not sure where. Probably just the next level up, so in Ariadne and Fischer’s cases the Snow level. That’s why Fischer woke up when Ariadne threw him off the building, and Eames shocked his body. But it isn’t clear if it was the falling as the building collapsed at the Snow level, and the falling in the lift at the Hotel level, that woke the dreamers, or if it was dying on impact. I think it was just falling, and that Limbo is a special case where you have to die to wake up, since we were told that if you die on any of the three levels you go to Limbo. So much for that, then.

3) We’re told that if you die on any of the three levels, you go straight to Limbo, because of the sedation. So when Fischer is shot on the Snow Level, his mind is sent down to Limbo, as expected. So how do Ariadne and Cobb reach him by going into Cobb’s subconscious? Surely that’s just another level of dream, not Limbo. You have to die to go to Limbo. But when they get there it’s clearly Limbo because Fischer is there, and it looks just like the Limbo that Cobb and Mal built when they were there before.

I don’t have much on this one. I have a vague theory that, since Ariadne only designed three levels, when they go to Cobb’s subconscious, he somehow chooses to take them to Limbo. Limbo is unconstructed dream space, so perhaps if you purposefully don’t construct anything when you dream, you go there automatically. But I don’t know to be honest. It seems that Ariadne and Cobb both believe themselves to be in Limbo, and it seems the only way that they could find Fischer.

4) When Yusuf drives the van off the road and it rolls, what happens in the Hotel level? We know that the gravity gets messed up, because that’s what happens to Arthur, but what about the dreamers? Surely they should get all jangled about as well, and this should mess up the Snow level because they’ll be falling just like in the car. Maybe the Snow level should become weightless. At any rate, something should happen.

I got nothing on this. Artistic license, in my opinion, because having Arthur fight baddies in crazy-gravity situations is cool.

5) Ok, somehow the kicks work for Fischer, Ariadne, Eames and Arthur, and they all end up back in Yusuf’s van in the water. They get out, leaving Saito, who’s already dead, and Cobb. Cobb then presumably drowns, asleep, in the van. He then wakes up in Limbo. But wasn’t he already in Limbo with Mal?

Aha, this is the clever bit, in my opinion. Saito dies a few seconds before the van hits the water, on the Van level. His mind is sent to Limbo. Cobb is already in Limbo, talking to Mal, but then the kick happens, and the van hits the water, and he drowns. I don’t know how long he is in Limbo (presumable quite a while, with all the time distortion etc), but eventually he drowns in the van. Now, presumably, when you die on a higher dream level, you just vanish wherever you are in the lower ones. You’re dead, right? And your mind gets sent to Limbo. So Cobb vanished out of the Limbo he was just in with Mal, and gets resent to Limbo because he’s just died on the Van level. But a few seconds have passed since Saito died, and a few seconds on the Van level is a long, long time in Limbo, and that’s why Saito has aged and Cobb hasn’t. He’s just arrived. It also explains why he gets washed up and doesn’t just find Saito by walking around the buildings. So then Cobb finds him and they kill themselves and they wake up. They wake up for real, on the plane. Maybe. Ariadne and Fischer, of course, wake up on the Snow level after dying in Limbo, but Saito and Cobb are dead everywhere else so I can only think they must wake up in reality. Fischer wasn’t really dead on the Snow level because Eames resuscitated him. But just my thoughts.

6) Ok, so everyone except Cobb and Saito wake up successfully on the Van level (with Eames disguised as Browning again). What do they do then? They can’t wake up until the timer finishes, that that’s a week on the Van level. They can’t kill themselves because they’ll go to Limbo. The subconscious military were trying to kill them before, why would they stop?

I don’t know. This confuses the hell out of me. Cobb says when they are first going down to the Hotel level that they should try to do it as fast as possible, but I don’t see how that can help. They can’t wake themselves up from the Van level whatever they do – there is no way to tell the airhostess to bring them out early, and there is no way to wake themselves up from within the dream with a Kick as that’s not how Kicks work. Linking in with 5), it also seems likely that Cobb and Saito would wake up before the others, since they should be completely woken by dying in Limbo, being dead everywhere else. Weird.

7) And finally totems. What the hell? Let’s start from the beginning. Arthur explains the totem principle using his own loaded die. No one else is allowed to touch it because only he should know how it should behave. This allows him to tell when he’s in someone else’s dream. This means that they are able to design his die in the dream. But they don’t know that it should, say, always land on a six. So when he throws it in the dream, it’ll land on a five, for example, and he’ll know ‘hey, this can’t be real, because my die always lands on a six in reality. I’m in a dream’. It won’t, however, tell him if he’s in his own dream, because he would create the die as it really is, so it would always land on a six. But hopefully he’d know if he was in his own dream, because he’d have power over it. All good. Ariadne’s hollowed-out chess piece works in the same way, presumably. In someone else’s dream it’ll fall harder than it would in reality, because they would expect it to be heavier than it is.

So what about Cobb’s/Mal’s totem? This isn’t the same at all. In reality the top will fall, because that’s what tops do. In a dream, Cobb says that the top will keep spinning forever. But why? If someone else is creating the dream, then they won’t know that that’s what the totem should do in a dream, so presumably it’ll fall over like in reality. Only people who know what the top is supposed to do in a dream would be able to make it keep spinning, and even then they could choose to make it fall over and fool Cobb into thinking it’s reality. Similarly, in his own dreams, Cobb could subconsciously fool himself by making the top fall over. So it doesn’t seem like Cobb’s totem is any use.

Totally stumped on this one. The important difference is that Arthur’s and Ariadne’s totems are manufactured so that they look normal but in reality do something weird (always land on a six, fall much more easily). So architects/dreamers make them act the way normal objects do, and this alerts them that they are dreaming, since this is not, in fact, what the totem does in reality. In Cobb’s case, the top acts totally normally in reality, only acting weirdly in dreams. But the architect/dreamer would not know this, and so would make the top act normally in a dream as well, not weirdly as is suggested. Cobb’s totem could only tell him if he was in a dream where the dreamer knew how the top should work in a dream, and then only if the dreamer chose to do this to the top. So, not very helpful, really. Of course, if the top kept spinning forever, he would know for sure that he was in a dream, which is what he did to Mal in Limbo, but unlike with the others, the reverse is not true. If the top fell, he wouldn’t know he was in reality.

I hope that might clear up a little of the issues I found with Inception. I repeat, however, that I don’t think these spoiled my enjoyment of the film at all. I’d appreciate any alternate theories/comments of course. I’m sure the answer is out there to be found, somewhere. You just have to watch closely.


Published in: on August 4, 2010 at 16:59  Comments (4)  
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The Stephen Sondheim Prom

Saturday night marked a television programme for which I have been waiting expectantly for several weeks: the BBC’s Prom 19, a celebration of the music of Stephen Sondheim, in their words, “the world’s greatest living composer-lyricist”. It did not disappoint. I adore the music of Stephen Sondheim, who has written lyrics for West Side Story and Gypsy, and the complete score and lyrics for Follies, Sweeney Todd, Sunday in the Park with George, A Little Night Music, Company, Into the Woods, Assassins, A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, and probably a few more that I’ve forgotten.

What makes Sondheim’s shows great, in my opinion, is that they’re all different. What ties them together is not the way they sound, or the way their characters act, or the formula of their plotlines, but simply their emotional core, and their ability to make you feel with the characters, and the ability to make you really think. They’re as far from the musicals of Andrew Lloyd Webber (The Phantom of the Opera, Joseph and his Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, Jesus Christ Superstar) as it’s possible to get in musical theatre. All of Sondheim’s shows are written in completely different styles, from the waltz time of A Little Night Music to the staccato, pointillist effects of Sunday in the Park with George, to the melodramatic organ of Sweeney Todd. You never wonder whether the next one is worth seeing because you saw the last one; you have no idea what will turn up next. Except that you know it’ll be good.

Possibly this variation is one of the reasons why revues and concert performances of Sondheim’s works work so well: there’s no possibility of being bored. I saw Simply Sondheim, a revue at Cadogan Hall, a few years ago, and it was fantastic. I heard songs I hadn’t heard before, and now they’re some of my favourites. Also what makes them so good is that performers love Sondheim. He has a corps of incredibly dedicated actors and actresses and singers and musicians who will turn out again and again to perform his work because they love doing it. Many of them turned out to do the Prom.

Firstly, the orchestra, under David Charles Abell (who, for his sins, is the musical director for Lloyd Webber’s Phantom sequel, Love Never Dies) were exceptional, and obviously enjoyed playing the music at least as much as I enjoyed watching and listening to it, if not more. The performers, including Maria Friedman (who has been in Passion, Merrily We Roll Along and Sunday in the Park with George, as well as several previous revues of Sondheim’s work), Julian Ovenden (who was in the 2001 production of Merrily We Roll Along, whose first stint on Broadway ran for only 16 performances), Jenna Russell and Daniel Evans (both of whom were in the West End and Broadway productions of Sunday in the Park with George very recently), were made up mostly of highly seasoned Sondheim singers. The big surprise was Bryn Terfel, the bass-baritone opera singer, who sang several songs from Sweeney Todd, which I found completely terrifying and wonderful at the same time.

The songs were a good selection of the well known (probably Send in the Clowns from A Little Night Music, sung by Dame Judi Dench) to the really quite obscure (Invocation to the Audience from The Frogs and Everybody Ought to have a Maid from A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum), and every one of them was as close to perfection as an audience could wish for. Really oustanding music. Plus, it’s probably the last time you’ll see Daniel Evans singing and dancing for a while, since he’s now the full-time Artistic Director of the Sheffield Crucible and associated theatres.

The show was unbelievably good, and I would highly recommend to people who have no experience of Sondheim, right up to serious fans, like myself. The performances were absolutely outstanding, and done with a sympathy to the canon that is unrivalled. Sondheim himself gave an interview in the interval, and there were lots of clips from rehearsals and interviews with the singers about the music that I found fascinating. If anyone thinks they like a bit of musical theatre on a Saturday night, I think they need look no further. But better catch it fast, while it’s still on iPlayer!

The Phantom of the Opera

Slight backtracking here, but since I was thinking about it today, I thought I’d review my experience of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s The Phantom of the Opera, which I saw last Saturday afternoon at Her Majesty’s Theatre in London. It’s sort of Victoriana…

Firstly, I am a massive musical theatre snob. I’ve been in some, I’ve watched loads, and I have a pretty high set of expectations to meet that ALW generally doesn’t manage. Also, I hated the film of Phantom, because it had no idea what it was doing – was it a musical? Was it a film? Who knows? It didn’t hang together like Moulin Rouge or Topsy-Turvy, it just gave the impression of a load of people slightly self-consciously and totally bizarrely bursting into song at random intervals. So, not a great mindset to take into the show.

But as it turned out, I was thoroughly impressed. We were sitting on the very back row of the circle, so I’m sure the subtle nuances of the actors’ facial expressions (and at times, even who was singing) were lost on me, but that didn’t detract from the show noticeably. The sound system meant that it still sounded like the actors were really singing, rather than having the speakers at the back so that it sounded recorded, and the sets and costumes were fantastic. The set really built on the glamour and decor of Her Majesty’s Theatre, and the chandelier was absolutely gorgeous and huge! The costumes were an absolute triumph, almost as good to look at as the actors themselves, and I was often distracted by the lovely period dresses. The set was also good in that it used every inch of the theatre’s exceptional depth, and most of its height as well, which was great to see. The supporting cast were also excellent, with a real ballet corp raising the whole show to a new level. Good performances all round.

The singers were, of course, superlative. David Shannon as the Phantom, Gina Beck as Christine, and Simon Bailey as Raoul were all amazing, and never sang a wrong or uncertain note. I was particularly impressed by Mr Shannon, who brought such a lot of variety into his songs, and really made them come alive for me. I am not a big fan of the score of Phantom, mostly because it only has four or five songs, many of which are quite similar, and so I find myself a little bored by it. Also, Lloyd Webber has a habit of finding an ’emotion chord’ which he plays loudly over and over to get the audience going, which is really a cop-out way of instigating emotion, and I feel a little short-changed by it. Phantom is full of these, and although it was annoying, the full orchestra effect was very impressive and made a great sound. But Mr Shannon’s performance really managed to bring some subtlety to the score, with constant changes of voice technique and very emotional sections actually making me feel interested in the characters. Ms Beck sadly could not compare – her voice is very pretty, but it lacked depth for me, and so made her performance a little flat. It doesn’t help that a great many of the lyrics of Phantom are badly-set or just plain trite, so I was wincing occasionally from that. I was converted to Stephen Sondheim a few years ago, and I’ve never looked back. Lloyd Webber’s shows just cannot compare with his word-setting and sheer wit.

Nevertheless, I found Phantom a lot more enjoyable than I was expecting, even from the back row, and thoroughly encourage people to see it, especially if they are less picky than I admittedly am. The performances, the set and the costumes more than make up for the poor to middling writing and average composition.

Coming soon will be a review of Inception, Christopher Nolan’s new film. I have seen it, but I’m going to see it again next week, and will save my thoughts until then.

The Good Man Jesus and the Scoundrel Christ

So I finished Philip Pullman’s latest novel today, The Good Man Jesus and the Scoundrel Christ. Unsurprisingly, to anyone who has read His Dark Materials, it provides a none-too-flattering jaunt through the action of the New Testament, with the twist being that Jesus and Christ are different people, twins. Jesus is the inspiring speaker, the one who collects disciples and followers and goes all over the country, and the one who is eventually crucified. Christ is a reporter of Jesus’ works, and is much more interested in building the Kingdom of Heaven from within; persuading people with miracles to believe and building a church that will last. Jesus, on the other hand, believes the Kingdom to arrive any day, and so is not interested in planning ahead. He also spurns the idea of miracles as being a tool for those with not enough faith to support themselves by his words alone.

Interestingly, and contrary to the title, neither of these characters is all good or all bad. Jesus is troubled by his faith, especially towards the end, and frequently gets angry at people. He doesn’t see why he should preach to Gentiles, and Pullman deliberately inserts some of the more confusing parables to make it unclear what exactly he believes about God. Christ, on the other hand, is intent upon writing ‘truth’ rather than ‘history’, a distinction that explains why his reports are not accurate representations of events, but instead idealised versions that will inspire and sustain faith in centuries to come. It is this aspect of the book, the discussion of the making of stories, that most interested me.

At times, the subject matter became a little too preachy, and Pullman belaboured his points a little, which is unusual. Also, towards the end, the clever interweaving of Christ and Jesus, although nicely done, became a little clunky to me. The ending, however, was very good. Also, there has been much argument about Pullman’s prose style. For me, I felt it really added to the atmosphere of the book, and didn’t bother me at all. It is structured like the Bible: short chapters and sentences, hardly any description, nearly all dialogue, and completely centred around Jesus. I thought this was a great reminder of constantly being part of this story. The prose, on the other hand, was very simple: easy vocabulary and short sentences; nothing difficult so it could be read very easily. I think the point of this was to emphasise that Jesus would just have been speaking to people normally – he would have proclaimed, yes, but not in the language of the King James Bible, all thou and thee and so on. Also, the style served to bring into stark relief the sheer strangeness of some of the stories he told – the Prodigal Son, for instance – where it is difficult to see where God’s all-loving, all-just nature gets off. And of course, for Pullman that’s the point: Jesus is just a man, talking to people, and he’s not that secure in his believes either. He’s going to get confused, and contradict himself, and get angry with people, and answer cleverly when he can. That’s the way people are.

A final point. A great aspect of the book for me was the love of man and nature, which came out in so many places. Jesus loved people, but wanted them to be perfect for the Kingdom, because he believed they could be. He left no room for error. He also loved nature, and really revelled in the physical enjoyment of the world around him, something that the Christian Church has really underplayed and suppressed throughout its history. Christ didn’t really understand people in my view. He knew they wanted miracles, and he knew what would impress them, but he didn’t really understand what was going on around him when they followed Jesus. The stranger understood people, but only their negative sides. He had a very practical way of looking at the world, and he knew that if the Kingdom did not arrive, the Church could be built only if people remained faithful, and they would do this only if Jesus did something no one had ever done before: be resurrected. Jesus’ plan was very simple, but it required impossible amounts of self-sacrifice, love and effort. Christ’s and the stranger’s plans were much more earthly, but they either didn’t consider the greed, the lust for power, that is another part of human nature, or they ignored it. I found these discussions interesting, and difficult to decide. Both parties have their good and bad points. I don’t know if Pullman intended this, since he is so anti-organised religion, but the book certainly served to raise questions on all sides, and that must have been an aim for it.

LivingSocial

So, I am far too obsessed with the LivingSocial application on Facebook. I’ve used it for a while for books, since I already keep a book list of what I’ve read, making it easy to look them up every so often. But I realised today that it has a place for films as well! Or “movies”, since it’s an American application. So I’ve spent a ridiculous portion of my morning (read: all of it), adding as many films as I can remember seeing to that. I’m at 283 books, 6 of which I want to read, 2 of which I’m reading and the rest of which I’ve read; and 214 films, all of which I’ve seen. The books are fairly complete, at least for the last 5 or so years, but I feel like the films are just scratching the surface. I’m a massive film-watcher, something which I’ve found less and less common recently, so I don’t have many friends who I can discuss it with. But there’re a few of us out there.  Anyway, if you’re curious, feel free to have a browse and post outraged comments about my omissions. I’ve probably seen them, and just forgotten.

Books

Films