Films To Make You Smile!

Okay, so we'll pretend that this post is not procrastination at its finest. I am supposed to be writing a piece for my Creative Writing module portfolio - due in January *gulps* - that will hopefully, eventually, become part of a novel. BUT I am slightly stuck - hence therefore, here I am.

Confession: I, along with one of my bestest friends Benjamin Oakes, have spent the majority of the past twenty four hours quoting what has to be one of the greatest films of all time - Mary Poppins. Yes, you read that right. Yes, I really am nineteen. Yes, I probably do have an obsession that is borderline (scratch that - completely over the line) unhealthy with Disney and just generally films that many people abandon along with their childhood. I am, however, unashamed. For me, these films serve an important purpose - a purpose that perhaps, ironically, grows more important the older you get. I am talking about escapism. The ability to, even when life is a bit rubbish - especially when life is a bit rubbish - lose yourself for a couple of hours in a world that is far from your own, a world where magic perhaps does exist and a happy ending is a guarantee rather than an elusive impossibility. So here we go - my list of the best films to stick on when you fancy reminiscing, are looking for a distraction, or just need a bit of a break from real life:

·        Mary Poppins

Let's begin with the one that started it all - the fabulous Mary Poppins. Not a musical but not not a musical, this one ticks the boxes for all ages. Until last night - when Ben and I watched the film for, like, the gazillionth time - I had not realised how funny Mary Poppins actually is. George Banks, the stern Edwardian father who eventually melts into a slightly mad singing sensation, is hilarious: "Give me The Times, please...no, I do not know the number!" (Possibly an inside joke, but still.) Ditto his wife, Winifred - we all love a good feminist. The song and dance sequences are fantastic, from the world renowned 'Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious' to the softer 'Feed the Birds' - which, I will confess, has me welling up every time. By the closing 'Let's Go Fly a Kite', I defy anyone not to feel suitably uplifted.

 

·        The Sound of Music

Sticking with the supremely talented Julie Andrews, we have the wonderful The Sound of Music - as my sources (Ben) tells me this was released in 1964 whilst Mary Poppins followed in 1965, perhaps this should have been first, but no matter. This film has it all: the history (set in Nazi dominated Austria at the outbreak of World War II); the family (Mr Von Trapp and his seven children); the nanny (Maria); the love story (Maria, Mr Von Trapp; Liesl and her sweetheart Rolf); the comedy; the tragedy; the surplus happy ending - and, of course, the song and dance routines. Feel good, heart warming - watch it. Again. Right now.

 

·        Dirty Dancing

Definitely not a Disney/childhood film, but a good 'un nonetheless. We all know the story: girl meets boy, girl falls in love with boy, girl and boy overcome a host of obstacles before ultimately ending up in each other's arms - only this one has a whole lot of dancing and a pretty brilliant soundtrack thrown in there too. It also helps that the leading male is more than a little attractive.

 

·        Tangled

Stay with me for a second. Anyone with young children will probably be aware that Tangled is a 2011 Disney interpretation of the classic Rapunzel. Only it's had a bit of a makeover - in my opinion, a makeover for the better. As an auntie to a fantastic three year old nephew and wonderful one year old niece, I have probably been exposed to this film more than is healthy over the past year or so. So I've had time to think about it. Tangled is what would probably be considered a modern fairytale. Yes, Rapunzel is still locked away in a tower, quite vulnerable and far from worldly wise - but she is also far from a 'damsel in distress'. As far as Princesses go, she could be described as quite the feminist: she knows what she wants; she intends to do everything necessary to get what she wants; and she is prepared to fight to get this - fight for herself, rather than completely relying on some strong, handsome Prince do it for her. Here, Disney has caught up with modern day reality. I would be more than happy for my niece to watch this film and think - because, let's face it, the majority of little girls do - "I want to be like her". Again, just as an aside, Tangled also features some pretty great song and dance routines (as you may have guessed by now, I am quite the fan of these.

 

So here ends my whistle-stop tour of excellent films for escapism.

Hope you enjoyed it!

Over and out.  

Birthday Blues

I am aware that I have not posted in a while (too long - I have been a terrible blog neglecter) so here we go with a super-cheery post for this super-cheery time of year!

Revelation: my birthday is January 16th. I am, needless to say, a winter baby. What's wrong with that? Well, up until a few years ago, the answer would have been - absolutely nothing. There were, in fact, many perks to my snowy season birthday: coming just after Christmas, it was the perfect occasion to ask for any presents that Santa might have missed off his list; when I was younger, birthday party ideas were easily catered - the cinema or ice skating.

Okay, I am aware that I said 'many perks' - however, that is pretty much where they end. Here we go, then - a cheerful list of reasons why it pretty much sucks having a mid-January birthday.

·         The weather. I live in England - the North East of England, to be exact. This means that the weather conditions on my birthday will be one of three possibilities: lashings of rain, piles of snow, or deluges of sleety rain and snow. Not so much of a problem when you're younger - as previously mentioned, weather conditions are matterless when you're nestled away in a cinema screen - but, once you hit eighteen and celebrations mean a night on the town, you're pretty stuck. Nobody wants to go out half dressed (because, winter or summer, that is what we do in Newcastle) to stumble down a slushy bank and/or risk your life slipping in high heels on the icy ground.

 

·         The presents. Not a personal reason of mine to grumble - in almost twenty years (sobs dramatically at the thought) I am yet to receive a present for which I am not grateful - however, I have heard many fellow January babies complain that their birthday present pile is a what's what of rejected/unwanted/unloved Christmas presents. Ho hum.

 

And finally, the big one...

 

·         EXAMS. Yes. Not a problem during SATs, not a problem during GCSEs or even the first year of sixth form, then...BOOM! A Levels hit and it's all downhill from there. On my eighteenth birthday, I had a 90 minute History exam. My nineteenth, for all sorts of reasons, was a bit of a breather. But now we get to the real bone of contention - and, in fact, the inspiration behind this blog post - my twentieth. I have just received confirmation that my January exam timetable consists of one take home, forty eight hour exam. When does this exam begin? 4pm on January 15th. When does Beth turn twenty? January 16th. When does Beth's exam end? Not until January 17th. Is Beth happy? No she certainly is not! To use one of the biggest teenage sayings going (ironic, given that - in case I hadn't already mentioned it - I will soon be twenty) this is so unfair!

Instead of downing the tequila, my twentieth will be spent frantically scribbling about James Joyce's Dubliners or Powell and Pressburger's Black Narcissus. As far as excuses for January blues goes, I think mine is a pretty good one. God only knows what's in store for my twenty first. On that optimistic note, over and out!   

Creative Writing Seminar - Free Writing

So, after the madness of Freshers Week, today was my first official day as an English Literature student at university! Thanks to a hugely inspiring seminar (one that, due to now resolved timetabling issues I was nearly an hour late for, but still) it was also the day I fell back in love with just writing, anything and everything, for no reason at all.

I am a planner. I am an obsessive planner. I plan my lists; I plan how I will plan to plan; you can imagine, then, how meticulously I plan my writing. So today, when we were told to just 'freewrite' on a certain theme for 5/10 minutes, my first reaction was - panic. I cannot do this. I have to plan. However, after thinking for a minute, I was surprised at how easy it came...in the ultimate cheesy expression, the words were flowing from my pen faster than I could keep up with them. Granted, what I produced was hardly gold dust, but the point is that I did it. I wrote something, without planning, and that is a major achievement for me.

This was only my first seminar - like the nerd that I am, I am excited to see what the others will bring! Hopefully, they will be just as successful; just as inspiring.

Watch this space ;)    

The Song That Saved My Life: Stairway To Heaven

Everyone has that one song that affects you in a way that no other can: it makes you laugh - it uplifts you, giving you a kind of adrenaline rush that makes you feel as if you can take on the world; or it makes you cry - maybe your heart has been broken, or maybe for no reason at all, but for three, four, five minutes, you can listen to that song and believe that someone, somewhere, understands exactly how you are feeling and has somehow channelled it into music. For me, Led Zeppelin's 'Stairway To Heaven' is a curious mix of all of this. It is, quite simply, a beautiful song. Whenever, wherever I hear it, it sends shivers down my spine. It is heart rendering: not in a heartbreaking, kill-me-now kind of way, but in a quiet, uplifting, curiously eerie and wonderfully odd kind of way.

Released in November 1971, 'Stairway To Heaven' threads into 8 minutes everything that a great rock song should be. The haunting acoustic folksy start plays out into an electric instrumental; the final section could be described as 'hard rock', with Jimmy Page's genuinely brilliant guitar solo and his and Robert Plant's powerful vocals. The closing a capella line 'And she's buying a stairway to heaven' ensures that, no matter who you are, the song stays with you long after it finishes.

My Dad being a 70s/80s rock fan, I grew up with the likes of Led Zeppelin as a background soundtrack. However, it wasn't until I was sixteen and exposed to that long post-GCSE summer that I really began to appreciate this music myself. I will admit that I became kind of obsessed with this song: I bought the Led Zeppelin t-shirt that I am (coincidentally) wearing as I write this (although it is buried beneath two hoodies and a blanket because, let's face it, September is here and it is practically winter); I planned to get certain, at the time, particularly relevant lyrics tattooed across my back the second I turned eighteen (I am now nineteen, and, although I have not ruled out the idea, my back remains tattoo-less - for now). The beauty of this song is that it is one of those rare creations that suits all moods. Back to that summer: it started on a high, and the song was relevant; it ended with a bit of nose-dive, and 'Stairway To Heaven' still had a place on my daily playlist. Three years later, I, like everyone, have had my ups and downs. But each time this song comes on 'shuffle' on my iPod, I listen, and it takes on a new meaning every time.

I will repeat what I said at the very start: 'Stairway To Heaven' is, quite simply, a beautiful song. I'll leave you with my favourite lyrics - interpret them how you will:

"And it's whispered that soon, if we all call the tune,

Then the Piper will lead us to reason."  

Thomas Scheibitz - Review

Title: 'ONE-Time Pad'

Artist: Thomas Scheibitz

Venue: The Baltic Centre for Contemporary Art, Gateshead

Dates: 26th July - 3rd November 2013

Web Link: https://www.balticmill.com/whats-on/exhibitions/detail/thomas-scheibitz

In his exhibition 'ONE-Time Pad', German conceptual painter and sculptor Thomas Scheibitz brings over two hundred of his works from the past five years to the Baltic. Using simple geometric shapes to trigger memories within his audience, Scheibtiz's art explores the conflict and tension between figuration and abstraction. Aside from the revelation that this collection has  a particular focus on the human figure, Scheibitz keeps to his usual practice of giving away very little about his work - it is not meant to be deciphered. With this in mind, the title of the exhibition is perfect: a very helpful Baltic worker - without whose informative tour around a selection of the works I, and, judging by their expressions, the rest of the group, would have been completely lost - tells us that 'ONE-Time Pad' refers to a method of encryption used to transmit secret messages during World War II and the Cold War. Each code can be used only once and is impossible to crack; Scheibitz rightfully sees his work as encrypted visual messages, which the viewer is invited to unlock through their own interpretations of each artwork.

Although the exhibition is displayed on levels 3 and 4 of the Baltic, it is recommended that we begin at level 5, looking down upon the sculptures and paintings on the level below. From this vantage point, the artworks seem like an eclectic jumble sale of colour - I am reminded vaguely of the Mad Hatter's tea party in 'Alice in Wonderland'.

Down to level 4 and our first port of call are the paintings that line the walls, mostly vinyl and oil on canvas. The bizarrely named 'GP 169' - it becomes apparent that, in fact, the majority of the works are bizarrely named so as to bear no influence on the viewer's interpretation of the content - catches my attention. It comprises strong, dark block colours: very flat but with a 3D effect in the bottom right corner, I interpret the assortment of geometric shapes as a person. The work has a quality of sadness: the large 'eyes' are bold red, with blue and black lines spiralling from their edges that could be interpreted as tears. According to the guide, this painting is actually meant to resemble a heart - you see what I mean about these works being very open to opinion. This is again the case for the next painting, 'Portal'. We are told that popular guesses as to the content of this piece - a series of different sized squares with a triangular incision at the centre - are windows, mirrors, doors, frames. The bold colours and varying sizes of squares give the impression of sucking you in: I felt very small and insignificant. The swell of black and yellow at the bottom of the piece provide a welcome break from the straight lines that are otherwise dominant.

The next painting is my favourite of all those on level 4. Until the title is revealed, I confess to being able to decipher very little: it is a mass of geometric shapes and planes of colour jostling for space, deliberately difficult to penetrate. Scheibitz believes that this constant bombardment and distortion is reflective of life. The piece is actually named 'Le Matin' - all at once, it takes on a new meaning. This could be a contemporary interpretation of a busy cityscape at sunrise. The painting's sheer size and busyness convey the feeling I always get in a cosmopolitan city - overwhelmed, insignificant, at risk of being lost forever amongst the tall buildings.

An alcove at the back of the room gives a rare insight into Scheibitz's creative mind: his preparatory drawings are on display, sketches on paper used to figure out the compositions and proportions of his pieces. We are told that, whilst the artist works on several paintings at once, he only ever focuses on one sculpture at a time. It is the sculptures we move onto next, in the centre of the room. Interestingly, they are presented in groups on large plinths rather than in the original arrangement of one sculpture per plinth. This is so that they overlap. I home in on two sculptures seeming - and I could be entirely wrong - to represent trees. The first is a black metal construct, reminiscent of a coat rack from IKEA, with a giant 'bauble' hanging from it - it makes me think of a starved, gothic Christmas tree. The second contrasts hugely: a smooth, glossy brown, thicker, seemingly quite graceful. It is smaller but seems infinitely stronger than the first.

Level 3 brings the painting 'Mosaik', possibly the most easily decipherable work yet. It is a man with a strange, large hat, a cross-hatched face and head; the man is grey against a predominantly yellow background. No mouth is visible, but there is an air of a serious expression. On closer inspection, the hat seems too large, too crushing - as if the man is being oppressed from above. For some reason, I warm to this painting. This level also hosts the piece from which the exhibition takes its' name, 'ONE-Time Pad'. It reminds me of 'Le Matin': the grey skies we see here could make it the same cityscape but at a different time of day. I have become used to this feeling now, but it is hard to decipher: a feeling of busy industrialisation dominates.

Also available here are Scheibitz's notebooks and collages of early sketches and plans. They are certainly an interesting insight, though I will be honest when I say that - as per his intentions - they do not make anything easier to decipher.

All in all, the exhibition is certainly interesting, though I will confess that by the end attempting to find a meaning in these often impossible works can become quite exhausting. Nonetheless, I would recommend a visit: arty types will love it; non-arty types, the exhibition is a lovely way to lose yourselves for an afternoon.  

An Angel For May - Review

Title: An Angel For May

Author: Melvin Burgess

Published By: Andersen Press

ISBN: 978-1-84939-543-2

 

'An Angel For May': a lovely title for what is, overall, a lovely story. First published in 1992, this novel joins the ranks of Melvin Burgess' many fine fictions for children. Burgess presents us with interesting, unique characters: particularly with 12 year old protagonist Tam, the author hits the nail of childhood emotions right on the head, really getting into his thoughts and the way a child of that age would interpret situations that are perhaps beyond his years. The moving 'An Angel For May' draws us completely into Tam's Yorkshire world - or, rather, worlds.

From the outset, Burgess introduces his readers to darker themes: a few pages in, we learn that Tam's parents are recently divorced and that Tam, a young boy at the centre of it all, is struggling to cope with his new familial situation. He takes refuge by escaping his unhappy home and hanging around the ruins of locally nicknamed 'Thowt It' farm - as in, 'who'd-a-thowt-it Farm...hidden way up there, where there seemed to be nothing'. Burgess throws us straight into the action as, whilst exploring the dilapidated sites and with the help of a mysterious old woman and her lively pet dog, Tam encounters a vision: the farm whole and homely as it once was, with a young girl making toast by a crackling fire. When Tam returns a few days later, the unthinkable happens: the ruined fireplace in which he crouches becomes a portal, and Tam is hurtled fifty years into the past. Against the backdrop of WWII, Tam is welcomed into the cosy home - so unlike his own broken one - of the generous Mr Nutter and his disturbed yet highly intriguing charge, May. Sooner or later and after discovering the ugly fate that meets his new friends, Tam is faced with a difficult decision: does he take his way out and stay in the past forever, or does he accept what happens and embrace the future?

Whilst I felt that the book was a little young for me, Burgess' writing style is perfect for the pre/early teen audience, featuring some lovely descriptions throughout. In both the past and the present, he creates a Yorkshire in which the reader can truly seep themselves: the sun is described as 'a low, red eye wreathed in dark colours and smoky haze'. A favourite of mine focuses on Tam's interpretation of an air raid: 'the town began to cry out. It moaned. The moan rose to a howl.' This, I imagine, is exactly what an air raid would seem like to an unknowing, bewildered boy thrust into the centre of it all. In with these more serious subjects, Burgess intersperses slices of great humour: in response to Mr Nutter's declaration that Tam is 'an angel for my May', his busybody housekeeper Mrs Pickles announces that 'If all you have to do to be an angel is lose your wits I'll stop going to Church and start banging my head against a brick wall.' Mr Nutter's use of the Yorkshire dialect 'appen' is prevalent throughout, a word whose meaning I had no idea of until consultation with the Google Gods (it translates as 'perhaps', in case you were wondering).

I am still not quite sure what to make of the ending. Towards the final pages, use of time and timeslips becomes a bit unclear: I was not sure whether Tam was in the 1940s or the 1990s - I had to keep double checking and relying on big giveaways such as an air raid for clarification. The conclusion itself is a little strange, and I confess that it was no great surprise - from page thirteen, I had earmarked the link between the young girl, May, in the past and the old woman, Rosey, in the present. Nonetheless, that does not take away from the fact that 'An Angel For May' is an interesting piece of children's fiction - I would have little hesitation in recommending the book to younger readers.  

Divine Bodies - Review

Title: 'Divine Bodies'

Venue: Laing Art Gallery, Newcastle Upon Tyne

Dates: 8th June - 29th September

Web Link: http://www.twmuseums.org.uk/laing-art-gallery/whats-on/exhibitions/divine-bodies.html

Divine Bodies is an interesting combination of European pre-1800 Old Master paintings and modern contemporary works. As I enter the exhibition, a description on the wall tells me that the narratives, spirituality and expressive qualities of these older works continue to hold power and relevance for the modern audience. By the end of the collection, I am able to appreciate this: Divine Bodies illustrates how art has the unique power to make fascinating links between today's world and that of centuries gone by.

The exhibition is divided into two sections: the first, 'Pain and Transcendence'. Here we learn that Old Master paintings were created during a time of strong religious worship. Biblical imagery has been a strong influence for artists over the centuries, with religious narratives allowing for the exploration of a variety of emotions - wonder, loss, hope and despair. Even though religion now holds less sway over daily life in the Western world, artists continue to be fascinated by it. This is evident in the first image, the iconic picture that has come to represent the entire exhibition: David LaChapelle's 2009 'Kanye West: The Passion'. Here we see the bloodied face of the American hip-hop artist in profile, with a glowing halo of black thorns around his head, set against a background of burning orange and red. The image, whilst undeniably slightly strange, strikes me as being very clever. West describes himself as the saviour of hip-hop music, his songs telling of a search for spirituality: LaChapelle interprets this literally, presenting us with West as Christ crowned with thorns.

Moving on and we are led to two contrasting images depicting the crucifixion of Christ. Marlene Dumas's 2011 oil canvas painting shows a small, pitiful Christ on the cross; rough, dark smears of paint reflect his abandonment and despair. The painting's title is somewhat ironic: 'The Tree of Life' has connotations of vivacity, glory, whereas the image we actually see gives a feeling of loneliness and despair. This is set next to Jacob de Wit's 1719 'Christ on the Cross': where Dumas's version of Christ has his head bowed in the ultimate expression of defeat, de Wit's version has his head raised heavenwards, expressive eyes searching for an answer. The one real similarity between the works seems to be the idea of the body's vulnerability: Dumas's Christ is very skinny, ribs protruding, and bleeding; de Wit shows Christ's heaving chest, whilst all muscles are tensed and fingers are clenched to convey the physical pain of crucifixion.

The most interesting painting in this section also happens to be the creepiest. In a line straight out of a story, it sends genuine shivers down my spine - I am drawn to it with a morbid fascination. Another oil on canvas, 'St. Francis in Ecstasy' was painted by an unknown artist in 1598: for me, the anonymity of the work adds to the creepiness. We see a grim-reaper style man, his passed out body supported by an angel, an other-worldly expression on his face and hands open to show stigmata. Dramatic use of bright light and dark shadows make this painting a very powerful image.

From here we pass into a separate room which holds the second section of the exhibition: 'Beauty, Youth and Age'. This section is my favourite of the two: addressing issues such as how Old Master paintings of the female form depict women's role in the downfall of men - linked with temptation, danger, sin - it really got my feminist brain going. It is clear to see that voyeurism and objectification of women transcends the centuries, whilst the modern world's obsession with bodily perfection has always been there - it is simply the definition of 'perfection' that changes. The exhibition caused me to reflect on the Western world's current definition of beauty - tiny, skeletal size zero, as small as it is possible to be without actually disappearing - and wonder whether, despite our disconnection from religion, this is where it has its roots: if women starve themselves to pre-pubescent proportions, they will not tempt men.

'Divine Bodies' nowadays equates to smooth, young and blemish free; older bodies convey ideas of shame and loss of dignity. Melanie Manchot does a great job challenging this with her 1996 silver gelatin and mixed media on canvas portrait of her mother: 'Mrs Manchot, Arms Overhead'. This contemporary piece is more reminiscent of the older paintings, where the women have much fuller, more natural figures. Manchot challenges our conventional ideas of beauty by portraying her naked, ageing mother gazing straight out of the frame, exuding complete confidence and pride in her body. In a society where almost everyone is crippled by body insecurities, this is a refreshing and much-needed piece of artwork.

All in all, I would recommend Divine Bodies: diverse, inspiring artwork, and much food for thought.