Hooked to the silver screen

Current mood: Distinctly film-buffian, dah-ling
Current music: What The Funk again (I have their new EP! Hurray!)

I have been immersing my mind in books and movies of late, and have only just finished reading another brilliant Jeeves book by the inimitable P.G. Wodehouse. Having skimmed a couple of the Jeeves & Wooster stories whilst staying with my best-friend-for-yonks one Christmas, I decided to venture into the world of the English aristocracy and wealthy bachelor loafers once more, and came away from the local library clutching four precious volumes, each containing the word 'Jeeves' in the title. I have so far worked my way through three of them in the space of a week (bear in mind that I tend to read on the buses and trains, to and from work, with maybe a little extra time between dinner and dreamy-time). There is something about the light-hearted adventures of Bertram Wooster, a loafer-about-town, and Jeeves, his extremely Resourceful and Tactful gentleman's gentleman, that raises the spirits immensely. My appetite for Jeeves books has not been sated. I intend to hunt down, for my very own, a tome containing all of Wodehouse's Jeeves works, and have it sit reassuringly on my bookshelf for emergency comic relief.

Before my Jeeves binge I was reading 'Charlie and the Chocolate Factory' and reliving the joys of childhood through Roald Dahl's children's classic. I personally believe that everyone should have read certain children's books in their youth, and anything by Roald Dahl ought to be on this list (I think that 'The Little Prince' by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry also deserves a high spot on the list, but I digress). In case you haven't read it (*gasp*), Charlie Bucket is the young protagonist of the tale - a poor boy with a good heart, who loves his family to bits. He also loves chocolate, but as his large family can only afford cabbage and potatoes for their meals, chocolate is a luxury he only enjoys once a year on his birthday. Aww, the poor laddie. Ironically, he lives nearby an enormous chocolate factory - the world's largest and most wonderful chocolate factory, owned by Mr Willy Wonka, confectionary genius extraordinaire. The gates to Wonka's factory are always mysteriously closed, opening only for the trucks that deliver his chocolate to the Earth's sweet-toothed denizens. One fine day Mr Wonka decides to open up his factory to an exclusive and lucky few - the five fortunate children who find the five Golden Tickets hidden in his bars of chocolate. Naturally, Charlie gets his hands on one (otherwise there would be no story). Most of the tale describes the goings-on when Charlie and four other kids - guided by Mr Wonka himself - tour the factory, wide-eyed and open-mouthed (particularly in the case of Augustus Gloop, whose mouth was open a little too often for his own good).

I'd recently seen the new film of 'Charlie and the Chocolate Factory', starring Johnny Depp as Willy Wonka, and enjoyed it thoroughly. I've been told that I really should see the original film, as it was better, and I've also been told that the original film isn't as good as the new one. In any case, I had better restrict my review to the film I have actually seen. Director Tim Burton has cast a dark and moody atmosphere on this film - from the dark, grimy and forbidding houses in Charlie's hometown, to the strange and alien shapes of Wonka's sugary vegetation. Johnny Depp gives an interesting spin on the character of Willy Wonka who, in the book, seemed a rather warmer and kinder person (if rather apt to giggle at others' well-deserved misfortune). Depp's version of Wonka puts one in mind of a Michael Jackson type in a plum-coloured suit, top-hat and purple latex gloves, who stutters at the mention of the word 'parents'. There is a sort of falseness to his entire bearing, a je ne sais quoi that points to something having gone wrong somewhere. It brings in an element of suspicion to the viewer, and jacks up the tension somewhat. Otherwise, the film stays pretty close to the spirit of the book. All in all, I must say, an excellent modern interpretation of the book, and I'm very glad to have seen it.

Last week there were free showings of films from the 12th European Film Festival, including the British 'Girl with a Pearl Earring'. I went along to see this particular movie and was suitably impressed. Every attention had been paid to the small detail, and every shot in the film looked like a painting. This piece of cinematography was a work of art. Set in the Netherlands in the mid-1600s, the film depicts the life of Griet (Scarlett Johansson), as she goes off to be a maid in the household of the Dutch artist Johannes Vermeer (Colin Firth). Griet and Vermeer strike up a unique relationship and she eventually agrees to model for him as the girl with a pearl earring; in the meantime, the plot is fraught with all sorts of tensions and conflicts between the various characters, such as Vermeer's wife, Catharina, his mother-in-law, Maria, and his wealthy patron, Van Ruijven. This makes for a pretty good art-house period drama, and while I usually tend to watch movies with a higher humour content, I found this film quite enlightening. I should add, though, that the film is based on fiction rather than fact; it is believed that the model for the painting, 'Girl with a Pearl Earring', was likely to be Vermeer's youngest daughter (also called Maria) instead of some fictional maid. Also, there isn't any evidence that Vermeer had an unhappy marriage. Considering that he and his wife had 11 children when most couples at the time only had 2 or 3, one is inclined to take quite the opposite view...

Speaking of European films, I bought the French film '8 Femmes' which happened to be on sale at HMV. I had never watched it before, so it was an experimental purchase based merely on the strength of a friend's recommendation. And a jolly good film it was. It's the festive season in 1950s rural France. The scene is a large country mansion - beautiful, luxurious, and (it being the bleak midwinter) snowed-in. One bright and chilly morning, the man of the house is found lying face down on his bed, a knife protruding from his back. Murder! Mayhem! The suspect could be any one of the eight women in the house: his wife, his wife's mother, his wife's unmarried sister, his two lovely daughters, his estranged sister, the insolent chambermaid, and the loyal nanny. Cut off from the outside world, they must work out amongst themselves... Whodunnit? Whilst the plot thickened and became increasingly complex, the little wheels in my head turned feverishly, though they stopped dead whenever the film threw out a musical number, because I was laughing too hard to concentrate. The first time one of the girls broke into song I was utterly unprepared and could only stare at the screen in bewilderment ("Has there been a mistake? It didn't say '8 Femmes - the Musical' on the box!"). Then, as each lady took her turn on the stage, I took the surreal (and somewhat cheesy) spectacle in my stride, and let it go with a sceptical but amused smile on my face. So, apart from the songs (which are fun, though a trifle bizarre), this is a great mystery film which proves Rudyard Kipling's famous line:

The female of the species is more deadly than the male.