Reviews - Radio - The Sunday Edition

As a kid, I was subjected to 24/7 CBC exposure by my father. To this day, I'm not one who can handle all-talk-all-the-time media, but I'm now making a 3 hour exception every Sunday morning. Michael Enright's been on the CBC for as long as I've been an unwitting listener, and his Sunday Edition is an excellent showcase for his humane, witty, intelligent personality. He covers a vast array of topics (recent discussions include airline prices, misogyny in US politics, and world-class sopranos) and makes them all instantly interesting. His interviewing style is graceful, accessible and generous. He elicits explanations and elaborations from guests too wrapped up in their topics to realise the audience might need a primer, and does so in the guise of being himself the newcomer, though his comments always belie a deep understanding of each subject. And through it all runs a vein of wit and irreverence. Absolutely delightful, and an excellent way to temper my dread of Sundays...

The Sunday Edition Podcast

Review - Book - Superstud

The full title is actually Superstud: Or How I Became a 24-Year-Old Virgin, and the contents are just as revealing as you'd expect. My interest was less in the subject matter than in its author, Paul Feig, creator of the greatest American TV show ever, Freaks and Geeks. Like most of my favourite shows, F&G went unnoticed by everyone in North America but myself (or so it felt), so I was surprised that Feig could land a book deal. I understand now that he started with a well-received memoir on his teenaged years; maybe Superstud was arranged as a two-fer. Certainly, I don't know that it would have been picked up on its own. Squirm-worthy confessions by the author, while brave, don't really make a great read, and there's little self-analysis between the anecdotes. At one point, he even reproduces his teenage diary verbatim, adding humour-free footnotes to the rather dull memories. F&G fans may get a kick out of the origins of the hickey breakup, as well as brief mentions of Parisien nightsuits and disco magicians, and the F&G-ready heartbreak of compounded rejection on a roller rink, but the overall effect is to make one appreciate Feig's TV writing more than his autobiographing. It's all rather more pointless than poignant.

Buy Superstud in paperback

Review - Movie - Control

Anton Corbijn never learned that brevity is the soul of wit. Control is overlong and fairly soulless, without an ounce of levity. Ian Curtis, by all accounts, seems to have been a dour and humourless sort, which makes for a bleak biopic that trudges straight to his suicide, without making much of a case for him - or anyone else - as an interesting person, worthy of examination. There are no standout performances to speak of here, with the possible exception of the guy playing Tony Wilson (but then, if you can't base a good performance on Tony Wilson, you're not trying very hard), though it's astounding how well the Joy Division songs work as a soundtrack. Of course, if you're just in this for set-humming, pick up 24HourPartyPeople instead. You get the Joy Division history compressed into an hour, and filtered through the charisma of Tony himself. It's proof that you can do heavy topics without being heavy-handed.

Buy the Control soundtrack on CD

Review - Book - The Art & Science of Dumpster Diving

Positively Shakespearean take on the urban sport of dumpster diving. That is to say, the author is an idiot, full of sound and fury that, more often than not, signifies nothing. This is apparently *the* how-to guide for getting started in diving, and as a recycler par excellence with a sideline in garbage picking, I was quick to book it with my local library. My first experience with John Hoffman's methods were courtesy Amy Dacyzyn's Tightwad Gazette, who made mention of his apparently objectionable writing style. I assumed he had just offended Dacyzyn's dull and borderline priggish sensibilites, but even my rather less couth tolerances were put to the test in order to finish the book. Better to stick with the Tightwad Gazette's summary for your intro; Hoffman is a gun-loving, Ayn-Rand-reading misanthrope whose occasional useful suggestions come couched in layer upon messy layer of smug, self-satisfied, worthless asides. So, ironically, reading his book is a lot like diving dumpsters.

Buy the Art & Science of Dumpster Diving in paperback

Review - Radio - The Falco Mysteries

Two things in life for which I've never had much patience: Mysteries and radio plays. As a cynic with a short attention span, the mysteries were always either too easily solved or too dull to sit through. And radio plays - especially from the CBC, with their (clogged) Kitchen Sink Drama and Flopsweaty Comedy quotas to fill - also tended to the "too dull to sit through" end of the spectrum.

Imagine my surprise, then, to find these BBC recordings of Lindsey Davis' fabulous Falco series.

I'd heard of the novels first when my high school Latin teacher gave them away as year-end prizes to the top student in each class. As this didn't include me, I put them out of my mind, and tuned out the constant raves from those gloat-prone top-student friends of mine. I finally decided to bite when my sister added her voice to the rave choir (I'd lent her my untouched thrift-store copy) and added it to my Audible playlist.

It was an enjoyable listen. Davis' accomplishment with the series - it's up to 18 books now - is not the mystery writing (which can be hard to follow when the suspects are all triple-named Whoopdedus Giddyus Maximus or somesuch) nor the attention to historical detail (the books sometimes bog down in descriptions of ancient mining practices, etc.) but the decision to drop a classic 40's gumshoe into the noirish environment of early Imperial Rome; It's testament to the chracterization that, in my mind's eye, Falco wears both a toga and a fedora. He's also outfitted with terrific supporting characters: His drinking buddy, Petronius; his rolling-pin wielding mother and her gaggle of daughters and grandkids; and the Princess Leia-like lady love, Helena Justina, a senator's daughter who can outdo Falco in the kicking ass and taking names department.

The BBC radio plays distill the books to their essence and leave some excellent voice actors to give even more life to already-lively characters. In particular, Anton Lesser absolutely nails Falco. The only complaint I have is that they're only up to Book 4. Given that I knocked the first three off in one day, the wait for the next dramatization seems as eternal as their setting.

The Silver Pigs - Buy on CD
Shadows in Bronze - Buy on CD
Venus in Copper - Buy on CD
The Iron Hand of Mars - Buy on CD

Review - Movie - Vera Drake

I've had this one on my to-watch shelf (yes, there's a shelf) for a while now, deliberately putting it off until I felt ready to tackle a heavy film with weighty subject matter. Despite the main abortion plot and a second half that's heavy on anguish and trial scenes (Amazon's got this straight-facedly subcategorized as a "Miscarriage of Justice" movie), it was less wrenching than I'd anticipated, though the Mike Leigh entourage's ability to create realistic, well-rounded and lovable characters without a referring script remains eerily effective. (cf. Topsy-Turvy, one of my all-time favourites.) And the acting, as always, is top-notch: The sweet subplot involving tongue-tied Ethel and the equally shy Reg was beautifully rendered in restrained physicality rather than speech, and Imelda Staunton's Oscar was merited, rather than the usual pity grant bestowed by the Academy. According to the IMDB trivia, the actors weren't made aware of Vera's abortionist moonlighting until their characters were. I wish I'd had the same level of blissful ignorance in the lead-up to watching the film - knowing the basic plot from the trailers and previews and buzz and Oscar coverage, I spent the first half of the film waiting for the other hole-soled Brogan to drop.

Buy Vera Drake on DVD

Note - An Explanation

I'm prone to voicing my opinion on everything. In fact, I'm known for voicing my opinion on everything. So much so that my unerring good taste and totally valid points are often met with shrugs and eyerolls by my friends. They clearly fail to realise my genius. Time, then, that I submitted my reviews on anything and everything to the web at large, to earn accolades and hearty right-ons from faceless individuals to whom I have no personal connection at all. After all, what's the worst I can expect? Except, perhaps, shrugs and eyerolls from total strangers. To which I say, "meh" and shrug whilst rolling my eyes. Welcome to the world of SHIRTY.