Cantona speaks

Philosopher-Footballer, indecipherable actor and uber-frog Eric 'King' Cantona reckons we should all withdraw our money at once, thus 'bringing down the banks'.

Not sure why we're supposed to want to do that, but this is the man who said that thing about the seagulls (the second best thing ever said by a footballer. The best thing ever said by a footballer was Joey Barton's succinct views on the England players who released autobiographies after the 2006 World Cup: 'We got beat in the quarter-finals, I played like s**t, here's my book'.) so it seems pointless to question it too deeply.

Cantona of course appears in Looking for Eric, a film which, even by the standards of Ken Loach, patronises the working classes to an extraordinary degree. The plot - in which ManYoo fans gang up to play a trick on a bully, and the main character talks to an imaginary Cantona who helps him win back his ex-wife - reminded me of those Friday afternoon children's films that used to be on BBC. There'd always be a bully who needed a comeuppance, and imaginary sporting heroes would often pop up to mentor the put-upon hero. In fact, the only thing that prevents Looking for Eric from being marketable as a kid's film is that it has more swearing than Scarface.

Local Hero

Watched Local Hero the other night, which I hadn't seen since I was a kid. If I had a top ten of films, which thank God I don't, Local Hero would now be in it. I could happily have watched it again straight away, but it was really late - like, 10pm or something crazy like that.

Much of the rest of my top ten, if it existed - which it most certainly doesn't - would consist of the movies of Wes Anderson. He must surely owe a debt to Local Hero in terms of tone. "We have an injured rabbit also" could easily be a line from Rushmore or The Royal Tenenbaums.

Lincoln Green

Mrs B and I went to the cinema last week for the first time since the birth of Brit Jnr (ten months if you can believe such a thing). Ridley Scott’s Robin Hood seemed the least bad option given the timings, and it was watchable though fell between the two stools of gritty realism and comic caper. So it was probably worse than the Costner one and obviously much worse than Errol Flynn (I think someone should do a proper job on Robin Hood, as Boorman did on Arthur; call it Robyn Hode and make it a bit nasty).

Anyway, I was intrigued by Russell Crowe’s approach to Robin Hood’s accent. I wouldn’t compare it directly with Dick van Dyke in Mary Poppins, because although Dick’s accent was bizarre (Meeeeery Poppunsh), it was more or less consistent throughout the film. Crowe, on other hand, spoke in a perfectly plausible Geoff Boycott-style Yorkshire brogue, but only in some scenes. In others he spoke in perfectly plausible Dublin, Bootle Scouse and RP. In each scene the accent was internally consistent, but you never knew which one might pop up next.

I could detect no particular rationale behind the choice of accent (was it Irish for lighthearted moments, Scouse for speeches, Yorkshire for domestic scenes etc?) but given the care and attention that Ridley Scott put into the costumes and CGI effects I can only assume that there was one, which I missed through inattention.

Elizabeth, Doctor Who

I’d forgotten what an enjoyable film Elizabeth is (the 1998 one with Cate Blanchett, Geoffrey Rush etc). Structurally it’s similar to The Godfather, only more exciting. Christopher Ecclestone overcomes outrageous pantaloons to shine as Norfolk. Joseph Fiennes looks like Sir Robert Dudley but he acts too much.

Ecclestone is now two Whos ago. Saturday’s new Doctor Who with Matt Smith was really rather good; funny and quick and slightly less running down corridors shouting about THE END OF TIME ITSELF than usual. I’m glad it was good, because David Tennant, though presiding over the programme’s Golden Age, was looking ominously like taking Doctor Who up the A470 from Cardiff to Prestatyn. A timely reboot, that.

Approaching the Piglets 2: The Revenge of the Piglets

Where Art meets Horror. And piglets.

Coraline

Bloody hell, have you seen Coraline, the animated ‘family’ film? Last night Mrs B and I sat quivering in terror behind our 3-D glasses; it must be the scariest movie since The Shining.

I think it was at the moment when Coraline is frantically attempting to slam a door on the grasping claw of the demented Spider Witch who is trying to suck her soul into the mirror world where everyone has buttons for eyes that we agreed that we would not be showing this DVD to Brit Jnr for the foreseeable.

Did you hear about the Morgans?

I note that Hugh Grant’s latest romcom is called Did you hear about the Morgans? A vexing title, how does one enunciate it? I was reminded of James Lileks’s amusing struggles with the even more terribly-named 70s Jane Fonda flick, They Shoot Horses, Don’t They?

My first instinct would be a sort of jaunty "Did you hear about the Morgans?", as if preceded by an imaginary “I say!” when uttered by a cheery cove in tennis whites as he comes bounding into the drawing room with news about the second cousins. But then immediately overlapping that pronunciation in my brain is a much sneerier Alan Rickman-ish version, “Did you hear about the Morgans? Well, did you, Potter? Or are you as ignorant of the Morgans as you appear to be about everything else?”

One could stress the “you”, suggesting: everyone else is talking about these Morgans, why wasn’t I informed? Did YOU hear about the Morgans too, then? Are you all in this together? Why does nobody tell me anything? Am I just being paranoid? I think I might be having a nervous breakdown.

Heavy emphasis on “The Morgans” gives them a bit of a fanfare appearance, as in: “Ladies and gentlemen, drum roll please…did you hear about….THE MORGANS! The amazing family of juggling dwarfs, all the way from Texas!”

But since Sarah Jessica Parker is in the movie I can’t help but hear a breathless Sex in the City-style "Did you HEAR about the Morgans? Oh My God!" Or perhaps the sing-song tone that the impossibly-deep voiced movie trailer guy used to do for 80s comedies to indicate light-heartedness, as in “…starring Bill Murray…. Dan Ackroyd… and John Candy”, where “Bill Murray” is stated with confidence, the “Ack” of “Ackroyd” is said in a sort of surprised falsetto suggesting “Who is this crazy guy?”, and “and John Candy” is peppered with little chuckles: “a-ha-nd Jo-hu-hon Ca-ha-ndy”. Thus: "Did you [rising] hear … a-ha-bout the Morgans? [falling amid chuckles]"

I would like to see this movie packaged up in a double-bill with They Shoot Horses, Don’t They? There are potentially infinite nuances of meaning available to the ticket-buyer.

“Two adults please, for Did YOU hear about THE Morgans?/ THEY shoot HORSES… DON’T they?”