Category Archives: Michael Powell

jesus vera

Anyone seen Vera Drake? Really you must, honestly, the funniest fucking film I think I’ve ever seen? Yes, it wins; I laughed and laughed and laughed until I was almost sick…

What is the matter with British Filmakers? Ken Loach, David Lean, Terence Davies (Mike Leigh of course, who also made the gigglefest masterpiece that is Naked) all have this aptitude to craft pure unadulterated misery.

Of course I enjoy British Films immensely, when we want we make (certainly have made) the greatest films in the world, putting aside the Hitch and Chaplin-directors that went oversees, and had much more fun with their genre -Michael Powell probably ranks as the most accomplished filmmaker ever. Yet we still have this kinky penchant to make these deeply introspect dialogues that examine the minutiae of (usually) parochial British existence.

But Vera Drake must take the biscuit for being the most ceaselessly bleak and unremittingly depressing film ever made, it makes All is Quiet on The Western Front seem like Airplane. There isn’t any one aspect of this film that is cheery, by the time it’d finished I felt like drinking a bottle of gin and taking a hot bath clutching a knitting needle. Christ help us.

Regular readers may have noticed that I’ve not mentioned Cunt in while. It would seem, now the flat is on the market, that his 5-year noise campaign has achieved its objective. He can now relax. Mission accomplished. I sincerely hope my successors are a large physically disabled family, partially deaf, hugely obese and with a psychotic devotion to Country and Western. Having said that I spoke to James over the weekend and my situation with Cunt was put somewhat into perspective.

James has a 3 month old son, he and his wife have put their house on the market, it’s not a big house and it’s in a dubious area of sarf London so… time to go. James’s neighbour is a single ‘mother’ with a son in his early teens, from the outset James and his missus have been privy to this poor sod being verbally abused by his sponsor and a succession of Bill Sykes type ‘boy’friends. Apparently it’s very upsetting, especially as the kid never says a word back.

Last week James came home to find a hole in his fence, it could’ve only been the neighbour that did it (only person that had access to the fence) and James suspected it was ‘revenge’ because his son is a baby and has this habit of crying… James went to ask her about the fence and before he’d a chance to say a word was subject to a tirade of verbal abuse and threats of violence. If this wasn’t bad enough from then-on every time his son cries this fucking bitch (take note dear reader, ‘bitch’ is a word I never use to describe a woman unless I really mean it) whacks her stereo up at ear splitting volume…

Speaking of volume, I’m seeing the Jesus and Mary Chain this evening. Let’s hope they play longer than 7 minutes when I last saw them back in the 80’s when I was, er, 7.