LOCAL COCAINE

It's the week that the full unexpurgated version of Bob Guccione's Caligula is finally released in the UK on DVD (the so-called Imperial Edition on 4 discs). Malcolm Taylor (aka McDowell) does a commentary as part of this set that I've been reliably informed is absolutely unmissable (brazen luvvie that of course he now is). It's a real shame that his career went downhill so dramatically after such memorable iconic roles throughout the 70s in movies like A Clockwork Orange, Royal Flash and If...., amongst others.

Meanwhile, the thinking man's porn star, the awful 'Dame' Helen Mirren gives us a concise object lesson in the cynical art of how to give the press just what they want as you simultaneously boost your career and personal kudos in the process. Klaus Barbie made me give up cocaine?! We've had the celebrity interviews with the eating disorders and the childhood misfortunes, now this could be the start of a new trend of blaming random tyrants, serial killers, and other assorted monsters for... almost anything.

THE WHIZZINATOR 3

A parting shot on this subject having this morning read about the CV of the cretin who came up with the naffness-redefining exploding bus routine at last weekend's Olympic Games closing ceremony.

I'm speculating here, but I have a little experience in this. The UK arts institutions are heavily populated with talentless wastrels who distribute vast amounts of funding to political bedfellows, lovers, and friends, both here and around the world, mostly as graces and favours. You wouldn't think it after repeatedly seeing these major demonstrations of tack but the country has lots of brilliantly original and talented, yet lonely and ignored, artists.

DESIDERI PENSIERI 4

DJ Benetti : updates for September!

italoBLACK
Sneaky Pete's
73 Cowgate
Edinburgh, UK
Thursday September 4th / 18th / 25th : 10pm-3am

Yokohama Triennale 2008
Yokohama, Japan
Sunday September 13th : 9pm-11pm

FILLMORE DISCOS 11

After a wretched run of consecutive losers, faith is partially restored with Isabel Coixet's Elegy, and fully with the emphatically memorable The Fall.

Elegy (****)
contemplative, thought-provoking, and ultimately moving drama - I'd now very much like to read the novel it's based upon, Philip Roth's The Dying Animal

Baby Mama (*)
oh my fucking god - now I have officially hit rock bottom and actually feel soiled having sat right through this excruciating comedy about babies and motherhood

The Fall (*****)
this remake of Yo Ho Ho, an old Bulgarian movie, is a masterpiece: stunning to look at, and full of wonderful symbolism and metaphor; yet really at its heart lies a devastatingly simple tale of a relationship between a young actor, paralysed in a stunt gone wrong and now wishing to end his own life in hospital, and fellow patient Alexandria, a truly extraodinary little girl who becomes besotted and captivated by his extravagant and mythological story-telling - Catinca Untaru's performance as the little girl is one of the most memorable and magical things I've seen since Judy Garland in the Wizard Of Oz (yes, it's that good)

The Go-Getter (**)

an annoyingly derivative movie that has indie film student written all over it - the score, the scripting, the acting, the photography, the lot

The Strangers (**)
typical modern horror thriller: promising set-up that rapidly becomes silly and far-fetched - The Strangers uses all the audiovisual clichés of the genre not just once but over and over and over again to the point of viewer exhaustion; conclusion: send the director back to film school to study Hitchcock

THE WHIZZINATOR 2

Never has the tone been lowered so dramatically from such sublime heights. After an unrivalled and moving demonstration of stunning mass choreography and orchestrated music at the closing ceremony of the Beijing Games, there followed the indescribably humiliating embarrassment of seeing that twat Boris Johnson hands in pockets shamble on in his dreadful £15 Tesco suit, followed by a double-decker bus sporting the crappest logo of all time opening up to reveal some tart from X-Factor accompanied by a decrepit Jimmy Page miming on his Les Paul. Christ Almighty, kill me now.

SEVEN WONDERS 2

One simple criterion for this list: very few, if any, visible traces of mankind.

• Angel Falls, Venezuela
• Grand Canyon, USA
• Ayers Rock, Australia
• Matterhorn, Switzerland
• Carlsbad Caverns, USA
• Antarctica
• Sahara Desert, Africa
  

ENDGAME THRESHOLD

THE WHIZZINATOR

And speaking of transparent concessions, it's the Olympics.

The jingoism and hypocrisy that the UK excels at is in overdrive after such a surprising harvest of gold medals.

At the opening ceremony, arms went up when a pretty Chinese girl was seen to be miming and not the bucktoothed original singer. Days later the papers were full of sceptical indignation regarding the true ages of the Chinese female gymnasts while at the same time Team GB proudly fielded a cute 14 year old boy diver. Then it was the turn of the arrest of an ITV hack who, while covering an impromptu Free Tibet demo, got himself arrested by the Chinese 'goons' (if only these journalists were as diligent about reporting on our very own police state and routine invasions of sovereign nations).

Needless to say, there are no end of scams that athletes get up to escape drugs detection and our lot, under the mentorship of past master Linford Christie through UK Athletics, are well-versed in all the deceits. The use of fake genitals, bladders, synthetic urine, 'missed' tests, drug cancellers, and various other sleights are as important as the training itself, as are the intensive workshops in knowing what to say, and how to say it, if ever caught out. In the latter case playing the 'plucky Brit' card will usually work - unfortunately, not an option for the Eastern bloc competitors, or any swarthy Mediterranean types.

UK Athletics, with the shadow of the financially crippling London Games in 2012 looming, have adopted a brazen win-at-all-costs strategy where results are all that matter regardless of how they're achieved. Hence our Olympic success. Even from a country mostly populated by sweating alcoholic clinically obese couch potatoes on the permanent cusp of a heart attack.

REALITY CONSTRAINT

Many of the best cold readers (fortunetellers and the like) have an armoury of all sorts of cool transparent concessions to achieve their magic - a lot of it is dependent on the understanding of unconscious communication through subtext. Several years ago, a friend of mine named Belinda, who'd been enjoying frequenting speed dating nights in the town, was berating the fact that every single guy every single night would ask the same fucking questions, top of the list being 'what do you do for a living?', or words to that effect.

A good cold reader will know that the wording of an answer reveals much information. If the answer is in the format 'I'm a (name of job)', then it's a sign that the person's identity is closely knitted to what they do, whereas 'I (do activity)' shows that the focus of identity is elsewhere.

Belinda asked me if I had any ideas about how she should best respond to this oh-so-inevitable question. Knowing that it would seem better to be seen as passionate about one's chosen work, I suggested the first formula - with an added subtlety. Kind of. 'I'm a kind of cleaner' - which sounds pretty damn mysterious and fascinating to me; and even more when the guy with increasing curiosity asks what she means. Belinda just smiles, shrugs her shoulders and says 'hey, I'll tell you later, let's not talk about that now, what do you do in the real world?'

I'm a kind of musician. But let's not talk about that now.

FILLMORE DISCOS 10

You could say a few lessons have been learned.

Iron Man (**)
that's it, no more of these stupid superhero movies for me - and this particular trash doesn't even have a bad guy like The Joker, The Dark Knight's saving grace; Downey really annoys the hell out of me here, Paltrow's character is pathetic, more product placement than even 007, and this all added to some of the most puerile corniest Hollywood dialogue I've ever heard in my fucking life

Happy-Go-Lucky (*)
another scandalous waste of celluloid funded by UK Lottery money - apart from the rotten acting, the excruciatingly phoney London accents alone will drive you to the brink of insanity

Where In The World Is Osama Bin Laden? (**)
it's an irony that a rather unconvincing Morgan Spurlock needs the Bin Laden legend almost as much as Bush and those who would support 'Al Qaeda' do - otherwise he doesn't have a film; Spurlock comes across as a decent guy and this lightweight movie contains a few genuinely interesting moments which needed to be developed at the expense of the dubious premise, the cop-out ending, and the corny jokes and songs, and, it goes without saying, all the meh crap about his baby's birth

Sex And The City: The Movie (**)
not a welcoming experience for us guys and if these four ghastly women are truly representative of the female gender then we are really in trouble - unattractive, atrocious dress sense, egotistical, materialist, narrow-minded, vacuous, unreceptive, superficial, immature, rude, condescending, judgmental... however, I'd like to think that they aren't; that said, there are lots of funny lines and moments to enjoy and there's a cheerful energy to it despite the second half dragging a bit towards its inevitable and utterly predictable outcome

Stanley Cuba (*)
worthless indie crap

Water Lilies (***)
only French cinema could get away with a pervfest like this, and one can be glad for that - that said, let's be honest and not fool ourselves, it's not at all a character study of blossoming female adolescence, it's wishful thinking with all the mandatory bisexual symbols, references, and motifs neatly packaged up and delivered by a drooling director having a field day indulging herself with the talent - so hallelujah if it's what you too are into

Suffering Man's Charity (*)
did this cast of third rate thespians all take a humungous speedball before the shooting began? the resultant overacting is utterly unbearable