Trailer for LCD Soundsystem documentary - looks epic! Did you get to see them live?
Banetastic fan-made poster for The Dark Knight Rises.
We need to talk about We Need to Talk About Kevin
Why? Because, as list season approaches, I can’t see anything dislodging it from the joint top-spot (alongside Black Swan) in my list of the best films of 2011.
I’m half-way through the novel - which is quite, quite brilliant - and the more of it I read, the more impressed I am with Lynne Ramsay’s adaptation. Though she elected not to reprise the format of Eva Khatchadourian’s letters to her husband, Ramsay has opted for a non-linear narrative; a disruptive technique which disorientates and delights in equal measure. As a viewer, it’s essential to take a moment, every now and then, to remember exactly where you are. Or more precisely, exactly when you are, and this structure, so well laid out, fits both the subject matter and the psychological toil experienced by our subject. Like Francis Ford Coppola’s The Conversation, this is a modernist film as much about the inner world of Eva, of memory.. of guilt and regret, as it is about Kevin’s burgeoning skill with a bow.
Ezra Miller as the titular problem child, and Tilda Swinton, contractually obliged to be described as ‘icy’, both give first-rate performances. There is a scene at the end of the film, where the camera - finally resting after a maelstrom of movement, and quick cuts that serve to emphasise the chaos unwinding in and around Kevin’s actions - lingers on Miller, then Swinton. Here, the two capture a powerful blend of mutual hatred, resentment and love.
It’s an incredibly well-directed film. Often so hard to qualify, but in this case, everything, from the previously mentioned structure and performances, to the sound design, editing, and use of colour, is orchestrated with meticulous precision and a deft directorial hand. We need to talk about Oscar nominations.
… but the stars look good on you.
I like sleep. A LOT. It may seem like a leap to go from that slumbersome statement to my thoughts on the politics of tattoos, but it’s one I’m about to make: a tattoo needs to be personal to you. Don’t pick a design that’s up on the wall of your nearest tat-shack, and don’t, for Christ’s sake, get a tattoo of a Celtic band unless you spent several years as a roadie for The Corrs. Veering further off course, the worst one I’ve ever seen was a poor-quality etching of a Bristolian man’s daughter. It was a large tattoo on his left shoulder, and he had his shirt off. Of course he did. Presumably the guy had put on a bit of weight since getting it done, because it made the girl look like she had Down’s syndrome.
Now, here’s where I bring it all back together: I’ve been struggling for a few months now, trying to decide on a small tattoo on my wrist(s) and the front-runners are lyrics from a couple of my favourite songs. “Sing me to sleep” from Asleep by The Smiths, or “I am just a dreamer, but you are just a dream” from Neil Young’s Like a Hurricane. Sentiments that resonate with me, in a place that’s more for my benefit than to show off to others. Plus, when a pretty girl asks me where they’re from, she would no doubt want to sleep with me when I reveal how incredibly cool I am.
So, then. Ólafur Arnalds. The young Icelandic neo-classical composer is the real subject of this post. In a roundabout way. Following the Spotify link in the title of this post will take you to his latest album, …and they have escaped the weight of darkness. It’s quite wonderful, and I’ve been choosing it to be my catalyst for entry to the sweet blisstopian dreamworld in which I spend most nights. Subtle, delicate and to borrow a phrase that pitches it perfectly, “like a glacial melting of mournfulness.”
Considering Arnalds was once a drummer in a hardcore band, that boy sure is adept at submerging the listener into aural tranquility. If you like this sort of thing, his Erased Tapes label-mates Peter Broderick and Nils Frahm are more than worth your time.
Very soon, inspired by watching Inception last night, I will be off to plant an idea in my own subconscious. Even if it doesn’t take, I hope this post will have encouraged you, dear reader, to follow the link.
Nice. I particularly like the blood encrusted on the toes of the Walking Dead ones. Really gives that ‘just punted a zombie head’ feeling.
I need to start doing this.
Ace. Oh, the benefits I’d love to enjoy by being friends with Mila Kunis.
This month’s illustration for Empire Magazine, Friends With Benefits.
Funny because it’s oh so very true.
via Pleated Jeans.
Arrivederci, porco numero due!
Christopher Walken Reads The Three Little Pigs on TV Comedy Show
We’ve just uploaded our Spotify playlist of our songs of the year so far. But we’re not done yet.
…if Nicola Roberts (pictured) was at number 3, and Gang Gang Dance were just announced at 2, who do you think will be our number 1 song of the year so far, when it’s revealed tomorrow? And who do you feel it should be?
