John Cleese? Oh Please! Part Two.

Another day, another stupid comment from Mr. Cleese.

http://uk.imdb.com/news/ni0889421/

When Bad Things Come From Good People.

I went to a screening of Year One on Friday, and like the little fan-girl I am, I had been wanting to see it for ages, even if you got the whole gist of the film from the trailer. It was never going to be a narrative driven film if it invovled Jack Black prancing round in a barely there costume (see Nacho Libre for Black's lack of wardrobe). However I would have been satisfied had it been a series of small stories, each as funny as the last: I was not seeking a moral here.

What we were given was just bad wigs and bad storytelling, and I'm still working out whether it was a let down because the story could have been so much more, or due to the sheer amount of funny people in it, there was no reason for it to be so... well, crap.

I understand that most people see Michael Cera as a one trick pony, which I don't necessarily think is the case, but if he is, then his trick is the equivalent of a pony sprouting wings, doing flying loop-di-loops whilst skywriting is coming out of his backside. The manboy has got superb comic timing, and is fast becoming the perfect straight guy in a double act. And whilst the comic timing is here in this film, the comedy and continuity isn't. If we go by what the press is saying that Michael Cera is the one not signing on for the Arrested Development movie to work on other things, I really think he should have rethought this one at least...

Jack Black does his usual jumping around, wagging his tongue, massaging his nipples palaver. I just don't see him as the lead (how fantastic was he as Barry in High Fidelity). If he's the support he can do the scene stealing, which he does with a certain finesse. When he's doing the routine and no-one is there to upstage, he just looks odd.

But what is also dissappointing is the rest of the cast; the used for all the wrong reasons David Cross, the rather pointless cameo of Paul Rudd (he could have been saved for a better character), the self flagellating Harold Ramis, the grating Hank Azaria and Christopher Mintz Plasse because, y'know, he's McLovin. Oliver Platt is admittedly funny, but the joke wears thin after five minutes. The inclusion of Vinny Jones means the whole of Sodom have to speak in 'frightfully awful British accents', so good to see that those fond of old testament depravity mind their p's and q's.

I just think that these guys are cast just for the sake of cramming people in the film and then, in turn, cramming bums on seats.

And where as the Life of Brian did actually help me pass GCSE RE (Fwee Bawwabas, if you must know), I don't think Year One would help anyone understand Genesis further. In fact what seems like a quick romp through the early tales; the tree of knowledge, Cain and Abel, the Mark of Cain, people begatting other people, Abraham planning to kill his son Isaac, we arrive at Sodom, where frankly the fire and brimstone didn't come soon enough, in fact it didn't come at all. Since when did a comedy need a fairytale ending?

Where was Noah's Ark? Where was someone turning into a pillar of salt on seeing the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah? Where was Joseph and his coat of many colours? Where were the concubines? Where were the many descendants of far off lands? Where were the men who are 800 years old?!

It was a movie that congratulated itself for who was in it (see Dewey Cox for another example of this) and while the cast may have impressed the other individuals in the cast, it focused too much on the 'star-power' and not on the prime objective of making people laugh.

And something I haven't even touched on for fear of going on another long rant: where were the funny women? A lesbian and one flash of armpit hair does not a chuckle make.

Beware the Edit

This last week I've been sitting and choosing footage to be used for a promo. And whilst it only lasts 2 minutes, I am quite pleased with myself, mainly because it successfully does the job of promotion, but also for not going for the cheap gag and making people look utterly abhorrent.

I should mention that in the rushes I was choosing clips from there was no rudeness, no complaining, no divas. They were perfectly lovely. But it could have so easily been made to look the other way.

So, with that, here are my top tips for if you do find yourself in front of the camera to avoid being made a knob of in the edit.

1. Be nice to everyone. Not just the director and producer, but the tea runner, make up girl, the props assistant. You'll be impressed by who has a say in things sometimes.

2. Don't blink. Even if the shot lasts for fifteen minutes. People can pause on you, and let me say no one looks cute when mid wink.

3. Don't ever be angry. Of all the footage taken that day, one shot of you frowning can be used anywhere in the programme. No one gives a damn about continuity, if they can get you completely disagreeing with the most rational of subjects, say, aren't puppies lovely. And even if you frown once, they can use it again, and again, and again. Making you one of the most grumpy irrational people to never write for the Daily Mail.

4. Breathe, but quietly. Whilst varying speech patterns are good, as it alerts us to when people ar excited, nervous or angry, a coherent and paced monologue makes you confident and most likely to make the final edit, as you are snippable in perfect bitesize chunks. IfallwordsarestrungtogetherwithlotsofumsandersthenaMASSIVEdeepbreath, so loud it'll awaken the Kraken, you're either going to be edited to within an inch of your life changing all meaning or you'll be left on the floor.

John Cleese? Oh Please!

I know I'm a bit late on this one, but I suppose I've been stewing it over, and my frustration has grown so much that I'm ready to report.

John Cleese, the other day, said that comedy writing, and therefore the output, is not as good as it used to be.

"I don't think the writers work as hard as they used to and I think they may lack experience because I don't think the writing is as good as it used to be.

"But I do proudly say that, in the 60s, 70s and 80s, we did have the least bad television in the world and that's quite a claim."

Really? Surely your gripe should be John, and it pains me to say this, that you are not as good as you used to be. The fact that he whored himself out for several episodes of the long-running Will & Grace hints at this.

Comedy is subjective (see Will & Grace comment above). I relish half an hour spent watching Peep Show, where as some people dislike it. There must be people out there who enjoy Two Pints of Lager - considering it's longevity.

It's fine to have an opinion 'I prefer comedy of my era', but saying that comedy isn't as good, and 30, 40 years ago it was better, is like saying that past eras weren't as cultured and intelligent as us - and I'm sure that Shakespeare, Gallileo, Da Vinci, Mozart, Einstein, Alexander The Great and such others would have something to say from beyond the grave about this misjudgment.

Also, I often read about new comedy being funded, awards being won (heck there's even the comedy awards), comedy DVD sales going through the roof... Even facebook pages are proof that comedy exist. Bloody life is comedy! Sure there are some stinkers in the pack. There are sitcoms that split people into those who obsessively quote and those who would rather run a marathon than watch a single second (Gavin & Stacey), and there are some that we secretly watch as they're not considered hip. But frankly there was also some crap in the 60's, 70's, 80's (mainly of the racist and bigoted kind), but he seems to have forgotten about that, choosing to relish in some form of comedy Arcadia.

So not only are you incorrect, Mr Cleese, you are actually insulting. Insulting to writers, producers, directors, actors and most importantly the viewers, the people you need to thank for your success. I imagine that Terry Jones is hanging his head in shame (Michael Palin is probably climbing a mountain in disgust).

Rubbish.

Gripe of the day: People who throw their rubbish out the car.

What's that? Oh, you've got some rubbish in your car? You've just eaten a pasty whilst driving, and you don't want to be reminded of that fact? In which case chuck it out the window! No point messing up the car.

If you don't want it in your sodding excuse for a car, why the eff do you think the outside world would want it?

And you shouldn't be eating whilst driving anyway.

Why is it that the more filthy rich you are, the more richly filthy you become?

I spent the day in an attic office in Camden, sitting around waiting for bands to arrive so we could ask them some filmy questions (secretly mine and my colleagues sneaky plan to get free entry to gigs - even if it did fail). One thing I did notice, other than everyone likes a good chat about films, was that the more well-known a band was the grubbier and greasier they were.

Now is this because the lesser known bands have fewer groupies, and therefore more time to wash between moments of adornment from their fans? Who's hanging out with these guys, and deeming them achingly hip, when they pong?

There are many things which essentially stop me being a rock star, and now I can add my standards of personal hygiene as another milestone distancing me from this vocation. Only my arrogance means that I still believe it could happen.

State Of Play

So what started as a night spent in Homebase, thinking whether bamboo or plastic canes will best suit my vegetable patch, ended as worthy night at the cinema watching State Of Play. Doubting that I'd be able to put up with two hours of watching Mr. Crowe act his chops off, I was pleasantly suprised.

A few things to note though, try not to be distracted when you recognise the guy from the Orange ads in the film. You do kinda question whether this is an elaborate advertising plant, not helped by the fact that he is the Media PR for Congress. I'm expecting him to suggest that texting someone may help. Or filming the next scene on your 'mow-bill' phone. I remain suspicious throughout the film as the plot relies on videos, the internet and phones to build on the story. Though print wins out in this big scoop is better than rolling news flick, with the credit roll a lovely homage to the printing press.

Secondly, it's nice that both Russell Crowe and Rachel McAdams have the same hair style from behind, yet from the front Russell appears to be channeling Justin Lee Collins. I'm just thankful that it appears he's cut it off Gladiator-stylee for Robin Hood.




Thirdly, this film would have been horrid if Brad Pitt had played Cal. Horrid.

Oh, for anyone mildly interested, I went for bamboo canes.