The Artist

 Saw The Artist last night: the much-worshipped, apparently Oscar-worthy, film that follows the rise and fall of fictional silent film star George Valentin in 20s Hollywoodland. It’s a beautiful film, a lovely, stylish, gently humorous look at a glamorous past world. The stars are wonderful. Bérénice Bejo as new-fangled talkies’ cheeky darling Peppy Miller is endearing and Jean Dujardin as the suave Valentin is equally engaging. Really, it’s a lovely film. I just can’t quite understand the excitement and excessive use of superlatives it has engendered in everyone. 10 Oscar noms for a film without a script? There is too much missing for this to be an outstanding film. No nuance except that held in an actor’s expression, which, granted, can sometimes be amazing in itself, but to run the whole hour and a half with nothing more than a fixed two or three characters' smiles, gurns and grins really is a little much. The references to “mugging”, vilified by the new wave of talkies cinema, have an unavoidable truth to them for me.

Plus that cute little doggy is utterly annoying. 

Prometheus + Hobbit = Happy

I had a wee tussle with myself as these two trailers were finally released. In my world of black and white I felt I had to choose which one I liked and am looking forward to more. The Hobbit, as you know, gives the cheerful but dangerous tale of Bilbo Baggins' eventful journey with a band of dwarfs. Prometheus, meanwhile, is a precursor - not prequel - to the Alien franchise (importantly) directed by Ridley Scott, the ultimate progenitor of the series.

Tolkien's The Hobbit (and the Rings Trilogy) are some of the first books I ever read as a mere infant. They resonate deeply with me for so many reasons, not the least of which being that my parents spent some of their courtship writing love notes in Elvish to one another. Pete Jackson's LOTR trilogy was a magical, beautiful adaptation of the richly detailed world of Middle Earth, of which I loved every minute, extended editions included. The news that Jackson would be helming the brave halfling's adventures with dwarfs (not dwarves), trolls, spiders of Mirkwood and dragons - even at the expense of seeing the great and wonderful Guillermo del Toro's take on the world - was stupidly exciting. Therefore I should choose The Hobbit, shouldn't I?


Alien, on the other hand, Ridley Scott's 1979 masterpiece, is not only my favourite film, I often give it credit for being the film that pulled me into the world of cinema at all. I am sure it was the first adult film I saw that utterly and totally hypnotised me, I was completely submersed in the dark, dank Nostromo and those terrifying, pregnant silences. I doubt I would be quite so obsessed with film had it not been for this film, the lack of which would therefore have left me bereft of one of the greatest joys on earth. Therefore I choose Prometheus, right?

The choice was killing. Then I had a small epiphany. I don't have to choose! I can love them both equally. So there it is.