I just thought that I would post my thoughts on this documentary film from 1974, directed, produced and written by Werner Herzog. I had seen clips from the film before, but yesterday I watched it in its entirety for the first time.
The film takes a "fly on the wall" look at the world of ski-jumping and its participants, following the Swiss jumper Walter Steiner and capturing his hopes and fears. Steiner was also a carpenter, hence the title of the movie!
Herzog made excellent, and it would seem quite innovative, use of slow-motion cameras, and there are some stunning shots of jumpers in flight. The pictures are accompanied by an evocative prog-rock soundtrack. Well, it was 1974!
One of the things which struck me was how dangerous the sport was back then. Even in the mid-1970s, most ski-jumpers wore just woolly hats on their heads. No crash helmets....
Werner Herzog himself appears on camera, mostly on location at the ski-jumping venues.
For sports fans, and devotees of 1970s' popular culture, this film is essential viewing.
Friday, 6 May 2011
Sunday, 1 May 2011
All-Time Football World XI
In the past few days, there has been much speculation about Lionel Messi's place in the pantheon of great footballers, and indeed whether he merits a place in a fantasy all-time world team.
For what it is worth, and just as a bit of fun, I thought that I would detail my chosen line-up. This is based on what I have seen, read and heard over the years.
Goalkeeper - Dino Zoff
The great Italian just gets in over Gordon Banks and Lev Yashin, mainly by virtue of his longevity at the top level, and his consistent performances on the world stage. By modern standards Zoff was quite an unobstrusive goalkeeper, but he always seemed to inspire confidence in the defenders in front of him.
Right-Back - Cafu
When looking at options for this position, the cupboard was surprisingly bare, but this elegant Brazilian is a worthy choice. An adequate rather than outstanding defensive player, perhaps, but he more than compensates with his other qualities. Great going forward and linking up with colleagues.
Left-Back - Paolo Maldini
The obvious choice for this slot, beating off the likes of Nilton Santos, Ruud Krol and Paul Breitner. Outstandingly consistent and reliable, and dangerous in the air at set-pieces. Could also be a very accomplished central defender if required.
Central Defence - Franco Baresi
The defensive unit would be anchored by the redoubtable Baresi. Not the most demonstrative of players, but a fierce competitor with an uncanny ability to read the game. He just edges out Bobby Moore for this role.
Central Defence/Sweeper - Franz Beckenbauer
My team would be captained by the majestic Beckenbauer. An ability to direct operations, and also to augment the attack, were his main strengths. He could also act as a flexible central midfielder.
Central Midfield - Lothar Matthaus
Many players have possessed more flair than the German, but few could match his will to win and his work-rate. A regular goalscorer, he could also act as a libero if called upon. Matthaus would act as the fulcrum for the attacking talent around him.
Central Midfield - Michel Platini
An ideal foil for the doggedness and energy of Matthaus would be this graceful and talented Frenchman. Midfield creator, brilliant at set-pieces, and an eye for goal.
Attacking Midfield - Johan Cruyff
The Dutchman's versatility and creativity would be a valuable asset. He was able to come deep and dictate play, as well as getting on the end of other people's passes and crosses. In my team, Cruyff would have a free role, and a roving brief.
Attacking Midfield - Diego Maradona
The mercurial Argentinian would have a role similar to that of Cruyff, able to roam the field without worrying about other responsibilities. Almost a one-man team in himself, he could create space for others to exploit.
Striker - Pele
The all-round talents of Pele would be integral to this team. In my line-up he would play as the second striker, linking up with the other creative players, as well as seeking out goalscoring opportunities for himself. His aerial power would also be a great asset.
Striker - Gerd Muller
Perhaps the most contentious choice in my selection, but Muller gets in because of his extraordinary scoring record at both club and international levels. In a team with such creative panache, there would be always be plenty of "scraps" to feast upon, and nobody was better at capitalising on these opportunities than the diminutive German.
I would have an old-fashioned five-man substitutes bench, occupied by the following:
Lev Yashin
Bobby Moore
Zinedine Zidane
Alfredo Di Stefano
Marco Van Basten
A team to be reckoned with, I think!
For what it is worth, and just as a bit of fun, I thought that I would detail my chosen line-up. This is based on what I have seen, read and heard over the years.
Goalkeeper - Dino Zoff
The great Italian just gets in over Gordon Banks and Lev Yashin, mainly by virtue of his longevity at the top level, and his consistent performances on the world stage. By modern standards Zoff was quite an unobstrusive goalkeeper, but he always seemed to inspire confidence in the defenders in front of him.
Right-Back - Cafu
When looking at options for this position, the cupboard was surprisingly bare, but this elegant Brazilian is a worthy choice. An adequate rather than outstanding defensive player, perhaps, but he more than compensates with his other qualities. Great going forward and linking up with colleagues.
Left-Back - Paolo Maldini
The obvious choice for this slot, beating off the likes of Nilton Santos, Ruud Krol and Paul Breitner. Outstandingly consistent and reliable, and dangerous in the air at set-pieces. Could also be a very accomplished central defender if required.
Central Defence - Franco Baresi
The defensive unit would be anchored by the redoubtable Baresi. Not the most demonstrative of players, but a fierce competitor with an uncanny ability to read the game. He just edges out Bobby Moore for this role.
Central Defence/Sweeper - Franz Beckenbauer
My team would be captained by the majestic Beckenbauer. An ability to direct operations, and also to augment the attack, were his main strengths. He could also act as a flexible central midfielder.
Central Midfield - Lothar Matthaus
Many players have possessed more flair than the German, but few could match his will to win and his work-rate. A regular goalscorer, he could also act as a libero if called upon. Matthaus would act as the fulcrum for the attacking talent around him.
Central Midfield - Michel Platini
An ideal foil for the doggedness and energy of Matthaus would be this graceful and talented Frenchman. Midfield creator, brilliant at set-pieces, and an eye for goal.
Attacking Midfield - Johan Cruyff
The Dutchman's versatility and creativity would be a valuable asset. He was able to come deep and dictate play, as well as getting on the end of other people's passes and crosses. In my team, Cruyff would have a free role, and a roving brief.
Attacking Midfield - Diego Maradona
The mercurial Argentinian would have a role similar to that of Cruyff, able to roam the field without worrying about other responsibilities. Almost a one-man team in himself, he could create space for others to exploit.
Striker - Pele
The all-round talents of Pele would be integral to this team. In my line-up he would play as the second striker, linking up with the other creative players, as well as seeking out goalscoring opportunities for himself. His aerial power would also be a great asset.
Striker - Gerd Muller
Perhaps the most contentious choice in my selection, but Muller gets in because of his extraordinary scoring record at both club and international levels. In a team with such creative panache, there would be always be plenty of "scraps" to feast upon, and nobody was better at capitalising on these opportunities than the diminutive German.
I would have an old-fashioned five-man substitutes bench, occupied by the following:
Lev Yashin
Bobby Moore
Zinedine Zidane
Alfredo Di Stefano
Marco Van Basten
A team to be reckoned with, I think!
Rose-Tinted Spectacles?
Just recently a friend and I were reminiscing about our formative years, and waxing lyrical about how idyllic things were "back then", meaning specifically the period from the early 1970s to the early 1980s. Although my friend is about four years older than me, she recalled many similar experiences, and harbours the same cynicism about the problems encountered by "the youth of today". Our shared conclusion was that we were glad that we were born when we were.
In the past, I have probably been guilty of slipping casually and lazily into "it was better in my day" mode, without giving the matter balanced consideration, or indeed defining what constitutes "better".
During our philosophising, my friend and I placed particular emphasis on a perceived loss of innocence generally, and a decline in the variety, aesthetic quality and social impact of children's television! Later, when analysing the conversation, I came to accept that these were scarcely adequate criteria on which to form a fair and balanced comparison of eras. Indeed, were such comparisons even valid or feasible?
When recalling the glories of our childhood, and bemoaning the supposed plight of today's kids, there is an understandable tendency to highlight the areas in which it can be plausibly argued that things were better in the past. Hence our focus on Mr Benn and The Magic Roundabout. By the same token, the less agreeable aspects of growing up in the 1970s were obscured and overlooked. Neither of us made mention of power cuts and wildcat strikes, for example!
Every generation defends and cherishes its own achievements and virtues, and such talk also betrays an insecurity and jealousy concerning the advances made in later decades.
So, although we children of the 1970s revelled in Fingerbobs and Trumpton, and played outside with our friends until all hours, we probably had a lower quality of life in other ways, not benefitting from the advances in technology and healthcare which were to come later.
In addition, as the youngsters of the early 21st century have no conception of what it was like to live three or four decades ago, how can they feel a sense of being deprived? They simply adapt to the circumstances with which they are confronted. Similarly, people of my generation have not known what it is like to grow up in the current epoch, so direct comparisons are pointless. This process will go on ad infinitum, and can be filed under "progress".
I think the moral of the story is that looking back on the glories of one's childhood is very healthy and heart-warming, but it is also worthwhile to think in parallel that today's children are also enjoying and reaping the benefits of what the modern world has to offer. Human nature remains unchanged.
In the past, I have probably been guilty of slipping casually and lazily into "it was better in my day" mode, without giving the matter balanced consideration, or indeed defining what constitutes "better".
During our philosophising, my friend and I placed particular emphasis on a perceived loss of innocence generally, and a decline in the variety, aesthetic quality and social impact of children's television! Later, when analysing the conversation, I came to accept that these were scarcely adequate criteria on which to form a fair and balanced comparison of eras. Indeed, were such comparisons even valid or feasible?
When recalling the glories of our childhood, and bemoaning the supposed plight of today's kids, there is an understandable tendency to highlight the areas in which it can be plausibly argued that things were better in the past. Hence our focus on Mr Benn and The Magic Roundabout. By the same token, the less agreeable aspects of growing up in the 1970s were obscured and overlooked. Neither of us made mention of power cuts and wildcat strikes, for example!
Every generation defends and cherishes its own achievements and virtues, and such talk also betrays an insecurity and jealousy concerning the advances made in later decades.
So, although we children of the 1970s revelled in Fingerbobs and Trumpton, and played outside with our friends until all hours, we probably had a lower quality of life in other ways, not benefitting from the advances in technology and healthcare which were to come later.
In addition, as the youngsters of the early 21st century have no conception of what it was like to live three or four decades ago, how can they feel a sense of being deprived? They simply adapt to the circumstances with which they are confronted. Similarly, people of my generation have not known what it is like to grow up in the current epoch, so direct comparisons are pointless. This process will go on ad infinitum, and can be filed under "progress".
I think the moral of the story is that looking back on the glories of one's childhood is very healthy and heart-warming, but it is also worthwhile to think in parallel that today's children are also enjoying and reaping the benefits of what the modern world has to offer. Human nature remains unchanged.
Saturday, 23 April 2011
My Good Friday
Despite the fact that I spent most of yesterday under the impression that it was Saturday, I can now safely record my thoughts on how I spent my Good Friday.
As the weather continued to be glorious, I went for a morning stroll, soaking up the lazy Spring sunshine. However, my feelings of equilibrium and contentment soon evaporated when I popped into the supermarket, and in my infinite wisdom opted to use one of the self-service checkouts.
I know that these contraptions are intended to speed up the shopping experience, but for many people they merely contrive to create other forms of frustration and anguish. After undergoing the ritual humiliation of calling for the checkout supervisor, and finally paying, I made a hasty exit from the premises. My visit to the supermarket ended on a more hopeful note when I put some money into the collection bucket for Guide Dogs for The Blind.
One minute I was sampling the impersonal and arbitrary nature of a mechanised society, the next I was happily and voluntarily lending my help to my fellow citizens. The curious juxtaposition did not occur to me until later.
I spent most of my Friday afternoon watching and listening to re-runs of "Dad's Army", in film, television and radio-show format. This served to remind me of the quality of the writing and acting which makes it so enduring.
Watching the film version, I was struck by how the greater time available permitted the writers and producers to insert more considered and reflective passages, particularly about the justness of the British cause and the principles and values over which the war was being fought. These were quite moving, although the tension was always broken with a health dose of bathos!
The movie, just like the television programme, gently celebrates, and occasionally pokes fun at, both English eccentricty and the innocent idealism of the times. One has to wonder whether such things would be considered desirable, or even feasible, these days, as we live in more cynical times.
Sub-plots were all part of the fun of "Dad's Army". There was the apparent class-related tension between the insecure, self-made Captain Mainwaring, and the dilettante and languid Sergeant Wilson. In addition, the constant bickering between the Home Guard and the ARP warden Mr Hodges also made for great comedy. These elements ensured that there was more depth and nuance to the show, in addition to the slapstick.
To complete my day, I followed the Championship match between Leeds United and Reading. A 0-0 draw was the result, and Leeds are now outside of the play-off places. Once can only hope that Simon Grayson is able to inspire his men to summon up one last push. Momentum appears to be ebbing away, just as other teams are acquiring some of their own.
And so that was my Good Friday.
As the weather continued to be glorious, I went for a morning stroll, soaking up the lazy Spring sunshine. However, my feelings of equilibrium and contentment soon evaporated when I popped into the supermarket, and in my infinite wisdom opted to use one of the self-service checkouts.
I know that these contraptions are intended to speed up the shopping experience, but for many people they merely contrive to create other forms of frustration and anguish. After undergoing the ritual humiliation of calling for the checkout supervisor, and finally paying, I made a hasty exit from the premises. My visit to the supermarket ended on a more hopeful note when I put some money into the collection bucket for Guide Dogs for The Blind.
One minute I was sampling the impersonal and arbitrary nature of a mechanised society, the next I was happily and voluntarily lending my help to my fellow citizens. The curious juxtaposition did not occur to me until later.
I spent most of my Friday afternoon watching and listening to re-runs of "Dad's Army", in film, television and radio-show format. This served to remind me of the quality of the writing and acting which makes it so enduring.
Watching the film version, I was struck by how the greater time available permitted the writers and producers to insert more considered and reflective passages, particularly about the justness of the British cause and the principles and values over which the war was being fought. These were quite moving, although the tension was always broken with a health dose of bathos!
The movie, just like the television programme, gently celebrates, and occasionally pokes fun at, both English eccentricty and the innocent idealism of the times. One has to wonder whether such things would be considered desirable, or even feasible, these days, as we live in more cynical times.
Sub-plots were all part of the fun of "Dad's Army". There was the apparent class-related tension between the insecure, self-made Captain Mainwaring, and the dilettante and languid Sergeant Wilson. In addition, the constant bickering between the Home Guard and the ARP warden Mr Hodges also made for great comedy. These elements ensured that there was more depth and nuance to the show, in addition to the slapstick.
To complete my day, I followed the Championship match between Leeds United and Reading. A 0-0 draw was the result, and Leeds are now outside of the play-off places. Once can only hope that Simon Grayson is able to inspire his men to summon up one last push. Momentum appears to be ebbing away, just as other teams are acquiring some of their own.
And so that was my Good Friday.
Thursday, 21 April 2011
Ingmar Bergman
It has taken me a while, but I have finally got around to watching and studying some of the work of Ingmar Bergman. In recent weeks, I have watched three of his most renowned films.
First to receive my attention was "Wild Strawberries" from 1957. This follows an ageing professor on a road journey to a ceremony, where he is to be presented with an award. Despite his professional and academic accomplishments, the professor appears to have alienated many people, and to have become estranged from relatives and the world at large.
As the road trip progresses, the professor encounters people and places which cause him to re-evaluate things, coming to terms with his past, and finding some peace with the present. His faith in human nature is partially restored.
With understated but well-judged acting performances, this is ultimately an uplifting movie.
Next on my list was "Hour Of The Wolf", released in 1968, and starring Max von Sydow and Liv Ullman as a couple living on a remote and windswept island.
The couple are overtaken by a series of bizarre events and personal encounters.
This is more the type of movie which the public at large would associate with Bergman, and it is indeed quite bleak, this quality being accentuated by the location. This is probably not a film to be watched with the lights off!
Most recently I watched "The Seventh Seal", one of Bergman's landmark releases, again from 1957.
A rumination on death and faith, the work stars Max von Sydow as a knight returning from the Crusades, to be confronted by a country ravaged by the plague.
The film opens with the legendary scene on a beach, featuring the game of chess between Death and the von Sydow character.
As the knight and his companions travel inland, they are confronted by various manifestations of the plague, and against this backdrop Bergman examines the contradictions surrounding death and faith, and the varying ways in which humans address them.
"The Seventh Seal" is one of those films which one probably needs to view several times over, in order to fully absorb the multi-layered messages. On my first viewing, I found myself turning over in my mind various interpretations of each scene or piece of dialogue. I kept asking myself - does my interpretation actually correspond with what the director was really seeking to convey?
The film alternates between the sinister and the optimistic, with the latter providing some relief following the grim but compelling former.
"The Seventh Seal" is by no means an easy film to watch, but it is thought-provoking and in many respects inspiring.
First to receive my attention was "Wild Strawberries" from 1957. This follows an ageing professor on a road journey to a ceremony, where he is to be presented with an award. Despite his professional and academic accomplishments, the professor appears to have alienated many people, and to have become estranged from relatives and the world at large.
As the road trip progresses, the professor encounters people and places which cause him to re-evaluate things, coming to terms with his past, and finding some peace with the present. His faith in human nature is partially restored.
With understated but well-judged acting performances, this is ultimately an uplifting movie.
Next on my list was "Hour Of The Wolf", released in 1968, and starring Max von Sydow and Liv Ullman as a couple living on a remote and windswept island.
The couple are overtaken by a series of bizarre events and personal encounters.
This is more the type of movie which the public at large would associate with Bergman, and it is indeed quite bleak, this quality being accentuated by the location. This is probably not a film to be watched with the lights off!
Most recently I watched "The Seventh Seal", one of Bergman's landmark releases, again from 1957.
A rumination on death and faith, the work stars Max von Sydow as a knight returning from the Crusades, to be confronted by a country ravaged by the plague.
The film opens with the legendary scene on a beach, featuring the game of chess between Death and the von Sydow character.
As the knight and his companions travel inland, they are confronted by various manifestations of the plague, and against this backdrop Bergman examines the contradictions surrounding death and faith, and the varying ways in which humans address them.
"The Seventh Seal" is one of those films which one probably needs to view several times over, in order to fully absorb the multi-layered messages. On my first viewing, I found myself turning over in my mind various interpretations of each scene or piece of dialogue. I kept asking myself - does my interpretation actually correspond with what the director was really seeking to convey?
The film alternates between the sinister and the optimistic, with the latter providing some relief following the grim but compelling former.
"The Seventh Seal" is by no means an easy film to watch, but it is thought-provoking and in many respects inspiring.
Tuesday, 19 April 2011
Sitcoms of the 1970s - My Selections
When I was a child in the 1970s, situation comedies were going through their golden age, although I appreciated this little at the time. Revisiting these shows in adult life has equipped me with an enhanced grasp of their qualities and subject matter.
One of the earliest sitcoms which I can recall watching is "Whatever Happened To The Likely Lads", the sequel to the fondly remembered "The Likely Lads" from the 1960s.
The main thrust of the story was Terry Collier's return from five years in the Army, and the chasm which had developed between his situation and that of his best friend Bob Ferris. This allowed the writers, Dick Clement and Ian La Frenais, to examine issues of social climbing, work/life balance and the limits of friendship. As these themes tend to be timeless, and relevant to the majority of people, "Whatever Happened To The Likely Lads" holds up better in the 21st century than most other sitcoms of its time.
There was always a hard to pin-down homely feel about the show, possibly arising from it being set in the North East of England. The interaction between Bob, Terry and Bob's wife Thelma offered a range of possibilities, and these were ably exploited by the peerless writing team of Clement and La Frenais.
After "Whatever Happened to......", Clement and La Frenais came up with another, albeit very different, masterpiece. "Porridge" was set in Slade Prison, and followed the trials and tribulations of Norman Stanley Fletcher and his fellow inmates.
To the layman it might have seemed an onerous task to extract credible humour from prison life, but the writers accomplished this admirably, whilst also touching on sensitive issues in a mature manner.
As with any great comedy, characters and casting were vital. That "Porridge" succeeded in these respects can be seen from the pivotal theme of the show;the ongoing battle of wits between the street-wise Londoner Fletch and the stern and disciplinarian chief warder Mr Mackay.
Perhaps the most lingering memory of "Porridge" is the astounding peformance of Ronnie Barker as Fletch. A believable character, and not based on any stereotypes, Fletch engages in a campaign to win "little victories", to buck the system, and to maintain his own sanity whilst others are losing theirs.
The two main supporting characters offer intriguing contrasts of viewpoint and personality to Fletch and Mackay. Lennie Godber is Fletcher's young and naive cellmate, and Barraclough is the liberal, malleable warder who is constantly manipulated by Fletch and his cohorts as a means of achieving those "little victories".
The more minor characters such as Lukewarm, McLaren, Warren and Genial Harry Grout all add to the rich tapestry which makes "Porridge" an undisputed classic.
Another more esoteric, but equally praiseworthy sitcom came along later in the 1970s - The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin, starring Leonard Rossiter.
This particular show is regularly overlooked in the pantheon, probably because it is less immediately accessible than the others. However, if one persists, it is perhaps the most rewarding of all.
The themes covered, such as the drudgery of 9 to 5 existence, and the allure of alternative living, were part of the 1970s Zeitgeist, and are still very relevant today.
The increasing neurosis and despair of Reginald Perrin, and the emptiness of his existence, are wonderfully conveyed by the performance of Rossiter, who displays his comic talent and versatility to its fullest extent here.
There is no sugar-coated ending, and matters are left somewhat inconclusive and confused, perhaps intentionally, in keeping with the central message of the futility of aspects of modern life.
The programme has some fascinating supporting characters, such as Perrin's boss and nemesis CJ, and his brother-in-law Jimmy, ably portrayed by Geoffrey Palmer.
It is probably necessary to watch "The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin" in its entirety, as individual episodes might not make total sense on their own. However, as a whole this is a fascinating and intriguing series. A gem.
Notwithstanding the endearing and esoteric virtues of the shows detailed above, probably the most popular British sitcom when I was a child was "Some Mothers Do 'Ave Em" written by Raymond Allen.
Michael Crawford plays the accident-prone and insecure Frank Spencer, and Michele Dotrice his long-suffering wife Betty.
"Some Mothers Do 'Ave Em" follows Frank's efforts to make something of his life, and Betty's battles to endure the traumas, whilst keeping her husbands's spirits up. Crawford's natural comic talent, and his willingness to engage in bizarre stunts, are a constant driving force.
Many lists of "classic sitcoms" conveniently ignore this show, perhaps because it is not perceived as "cool". It did not possess the gritty scenarios or incisive writing of others of the genre, but it succeeds because it is basically funny and entertaining, and because of the pathos of the Frank Spencer character.
Here's hoping for a rehabilitation of "Some Mothers Do 'Ave Em"!
One of the earliest sitcoms which I can recall watching is "Whatever Happened To The Likely Lads", the sequel to the fondly remembered "The Likely Lads" from the 1960s.
The main thrust of the story was Terry Collier's return from five years in the Army, and the chasm which had developed between his situation and that of his best friend Bob Ferris. This allowed the writers, Dick Clement and Ian La Frenais, to examine issues of social climbing, work/life balance and the limits of friendship. As these themes tend to be timeless, and relevant to the majority of people, "Whatever Happened To The Likely Lads" holds up better in the 21st century than most other sitcoms of its time.
There was always a hard to pin-down homely feel about the show, possibly arising from it being set in the North East of England. The interaction between Bob, Terry and Bob's wife Thelma offered a range of possibilities, and these were ably exploited by the peerless writing team of Clement and La Frenais.
After "Whatever Happened to......", Clement and La Frenais came up with another, albeit very different, masterpiece. "Porridge" was set in Slade Prison, and followed the trials and tribulations of Norman Stanley Fletcher and his fellow inmates.
To the layman it might have seemed an onerous task to extract credible humour from prison life, but the writers accomplished this admirably, whilst also touching on sensitive issues in a mature manner.
As with any great comedy, characters and casting were vital. That "Porridge" succeeded in these respects can be seen from the pivotal theme of the show;the ongoing battle of wits between the street-wise Londoner Fletch and the stern and disciplinarian chief warder Mr Mackay.
Perhaps the most lingering memory of "Porridge" is the astounding peformance of Ronnie Barker as Fletch. A believable character, and not based on any stereotypes, Fletch engages in a campaign to win "little victories", to buck the system, and to maintain his own sanity whilst others are losing theirs.
The two main supporting characters offer intriguing contrasts of viewpoint and personality to Fletch and Mackay. Lennie Godber is Fletcher's young and naive cellmate, and Barraclough is the liberal, malleable warder who is constantly manipulated by Fletch and his cohorts as a means of achieving those "little victories".
The more minor characters such as Lukewarm, McLaren, Warren and Genial Harry Grout all add to the rich tapestry which makes "Porridge" an undisputed classic.
Another more esoteric, but equally praiseworthy sitcom came along later in the 1970s - The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin, starring Leonard Rossiter.
This particular show is regularly overlooked in the pantheon, probably because it is less immediately accessible than the others. However, if one persists, it is perhaps the most rewarding of all.
The themes covered, such as the drudgery of 9 to 5 existence, and the allure of alternative living, were part of the 1970s Zeitgeist, and are still very relevant today.
The increasing neurosis and despair of Reginald Perrin, and the emptiness of his existence, are wonderfully conveyed by the performance of Rossiter, who displays his comic talent and versatility to its fullest extent here.
There is no sugar-coated ending, and matters are left somewhat inconclusive and confused, perhaps intentionally, in keeping with the central message of the futility of aspects of modern life.
The programme has some fascinating supporting characters, such as Perrin's boss and nemesis CJ, and his brother-in-law Jimmy, ably portrayed by Geoffrey Palmer.
It is probably necessary to watch "The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin" in its entirety, as individual episodes might not make total sense on their own. However, as a whole this is a fascinating and intriguing series. A gem.
Notwithstanding the endearing and esoteric virtues of the shows detailed above, probably the most popular British sitcom when I was a child was "Some Mothers Do 'Ave Em" written by Raymond Allen.
Michael Crawford plays the accident-prone and insecure Frank Spencer, and Michele Dotrice his long-suffering wife Betty.
"Some Mothers Do 'Ave Em" follows Frank's efforts to make something of his life, and Betty's battles to endure the traumas, whilst keeping her husbands's spirits up. Crawford's natural comic talent, and his willingness to engage in bizarre stunts, are a constant driving force.
Many lists of "classic sitcoms" conveniently ignore this show, perhaps because it is not perceived as "cool". It did not possess the gritty scenarios or incisive writing of others of the genre, but it succeeds because it is basically funny and entertaining, and because of the pathos of the Frank Spencer character.
Here's hoping for a rehabilitation of "Some Mothers Do 'Ave Em"!
Tuesday, 12 April 2011
Death In Venice
Just recently, I have turned my cinematic attention more towards what may be termed European art cinema. I will be blogging my thoughts on some of the films which I have watched.
I had seen clips from Luchino Visconti's 1971 masterpiece "Death In Venice" before, and also have hazy recollections of seeing the film as a child. I was latterly turned on to the film by my interest in the music of Gustav Mahler, which plays a prominent role in it.
The movie is based on Thomas Mann's novel, and centres on an ageing composer, played by Dirk Bogarde, who decides to spend some time in Venice because of his failing health. Once there he becomes obsessed with a handsome adolescent Polish boy.
One of the most striking aspects of "Death In Venice" is the relative lack of dialogue throughout. Visconti opts to let the lavish visuals (sets and constumes, as well as the scenery) and the majesty of Mahler's music drive the story along.
Bogarde delivers a remarkable performance, possibly the zenith of his career.
The final scene is probably one of the most moving and poignant in all of world cinema, played out to the strains of "Adagietto", from Mahler's Symphony no.5.
"Death In Venice" is a feast for the senses, and less a film than a work of art. Stunning.
I had seen clips from Luchino Visconti's 1971 masterpiece "Death In Venice" before, and also have hazy recollections of seeing the film as a child. I was latterly turned on to the film by my interest in the music of Gustav Mahler, which plays a prominent role in it.
The movie is based on Thomas Mann's novel, and centres on an ageing composer, played by Dirk Bogarde, who decides to spend some time in Venice because of his failing health. Once there he becomes obsessed with a handsome adolescent Polish boy.
One of the most striking aspects of "Death In Venice" is the relative lack of dialogue throughout. Visconti opts to let the lavish visuals (sets and constumes, as well as the scenery) and the majesty of Mahler's music drive the story along.
Bogarde delivers a remarkable performance, possibly the zenith of his career.
The final scene is probably one of the most moving and poignant in all of world cinema, played out to the strains of "Adagietto", from Mahler's Symphony no.5.
"Death In Venice" is a feast for the senses, and less a film than a work of art. Stunning.
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