Whipcrack Thunder

I wasn’t in the best of moods when I left the office, and when I stepped outside to feel that close heat, that dead, still air, and looked up at the granite looking clouds, I knew I’d be bloody lucky to make it to the tube station dry. I put the headphones in, and with Garbage’s “Sex Is Not The Enemy” playing, zipped the Stupid Thing With The Pockets up, and started walking. Sure enough, before I’d gone 10 yards, I felt the first one hit. A big heavy raindrop, the sort that you can feel as it splashes against your skin.

I broke into a jog, as the pavement around me started to stain. I passed someone from the same building as me, hunched over and muttering, clearly extremely pissed off about this. I stretched my legs a bit more, picked the pace up slightly, as it got heavier. By the time I’d gone 200 yards, it was falling out of the sky in great sheets. Two coke cans danced passed me as I crossed the road, the wind whipping them, the sheer force of the gusts causing them to bounce waist-high, and slamming rain into me. I could already feel it running off my hair in rivulets.

I was at a dead run by the time I made it across the road, and someone was laughing. It wasn’t until I passed the garden with the group of kids in football shirts, all of them spinning round with outstretched arms that I realised it was me. Hammering the pavement, every footstep raising a splash, the rain pouring off me, clothes and hair plastered to me, and the thunder bouncing off the buildings, pounding down the space between me and the tube station, laughing like a maniac. I’m sure everyone I passed thought I was some kind of escaped lunatic.

Except those kids. They got it.

There are worse ways to start a weekend.

Sin City Review

Firstly: Many thanks to alexdecampi and davebushe for the preview ticket.

I loved it.

I’ve got to be honest: I wasn’t expecting it to be much cop. There’s a lot of dialogue/monologue in the comic that I just felt would be a bit iffy, when spoken aloud. The few clips I’ve seen on telly made it sound like yes, this was very much the case. And indeed, in a few places it did creak, although I do wonder if (in some cases, although not all) that was partly because they were the bits I’d heard on telly. But for the greater part of it, it carried it off pretty well.

But let’s face it, you’re not going to see this for the dialogue. This is a film that’s all about the visuals, and it delivers, in spades. Gorgeous looking, like nothing we’ve ever seen from Hollywood. Miller’s co-director credit is well deserved – there’s almost no shot in the movie that’s not in the comics. (Although I think I’m correct in assuming that Tarantino’s scene is the one between Owen and del Toro in the car – it’s certainly the one that’s least like the comic.) If you’ve got any interest in cinema beyond a “good stories” level, this is an absolute must-see movie. If you just want good stories, and like noir, well, you’ll still like it. It’s a caricatured noir, but still it’s a bloody good ride.

It’s an all-star cast, so let’s take a couple of seconds to look at them, shall we? Acting wise, Mickey Rourke is the obvious show stealer. Bruce Willis and Clive Owen both put in adequate performances – Owen never seems quite as on the edge as I might have liked, but then, I think if he’d been more obviously loony, there’d have been little to distinguish Dwight and Marv, and Willis, is, well, he’s doing he usual tough guy job, and while we’ve seen it from him a lot in the past, it’s exactly what’s called for here.

It’s bit harder to judge the women, to be honest – there’s a bit less for the actresses to work with, as the women in Sin City seem to chiefly exist to spur very manly men to action. Although I felt Rosario Dawson was a bit of a let down – I didn’t feel that she and Owen had much chemistry between them (compared to Owen and Murphy), and as arguable the lead female role, that’s a bit of a flaw. Top marks in the villain category have to go to Nick Stahl and Rutger Hauer, for two pleasingly mental bastards. Elijah Wood’s role is suitably creepy, but other than maybe trading off casting against type for his eyes, he really doesn’t have a lot to do to make it creepy.

Still, all these people are pretty/grizzled, and do at least adequately, and to be honest judging their performance is quite tricky, given the extremely stylised nature of the whole movie, from plot and dialogue through to the stunning, stunning visuals. And as I say, it’s the visuals that are the star here, and deservedly so. A perfect job of translating the look of the comic to film.

All in all: A must-see movie.

(Although I still want to know who stole Rosario Dawson’s nipples. I mean, it looks like she’s meant to be wearing fishnet, and I don’t see any evidence of her wearing something under it, and yet she has no nipples. Someone must have stolen them…)

Last Train To Mashville

Shane MacGowan was “stuck in Dublin Airport” last night, so The Popes did not perform. This was, well, a bit rubbish, but still, they were only the support act for the Alabama 3.

The Alabama 3, in case you’ve been living under a rock, play “sweet, pretty, country acid house music”. A dance/country/rock fusion, I guess. (If you watch the Sopranos, then it’s them that did the theme tune.) They are, like any band worth the bother, even better live. I don’t know if they extended their planned set list to make up for The Pope’s absence, but it was an excellent set – all the big singles, and several storming numbers off the new album.

It wasn’t all perfect – the sound quality was a bit iffy, especially for a couple of the mics, not helped by the fact that joint-lead vocalist D. Wayne Love was clearly extremely the worse for something. I ran into an old mate on the way there, who’s been to see them many, many times before, and according to him, the guy was as wrecked as he’s ever seen him, but still, they did an excellent set. The amount of energy in their performance was impressive – I don’t think lead singer Larry Love ever stopped moving, and the various guest vocalists/musicians were clearly out to match him. And when you’ve got four vocalists, two guitar/bass players, a drummer, a percussionist, a digeridoo player, and a man with a harmonica all on stage, giving it their all, that’s some pretty impressive stuff right there.

I am, however, getting fucked off with venues that don’t allow “professional” cameras in. I don’t own a professional camera, just a very good consumer one, but I’m not allowed to bring it into gigs at Carling venues, it seems, because the door monkeys can’t tell the difference between it and a pro camera, and will not take my word for that fact that it isn’t one, which leaves me stuck with the Ixus, which isn’t up to the job.

Anyone out there ever tried to get permission to take a half-decent camera in to gigs in advance?

(Oh, and I got hit with a flyer for the Nouvelle Vague, playing the Queen Elizabeth Hall on the 11th of July. My ticket is duly booked. Anyone else interested in some bossa nova/jazz covers of old New Wave stuff?)

City Life.

elethe asked why people like living in London, and I left this in a comment. I’m reposting it here, because I like it, and would like to be able to find it another time. If you’ve heard me was lyrical about London a lot before, you can probably skip it – there’s only a limited amount of new material in here.

County Hell

Opinions Sought: Photo Printing

Firstly: has anyone used photobox.co.uk to get prints of digital images in the past? I think I’ve finally turned up somewhere that’ll do photo printing on demand like I want (ie. without requiring me to pay anything up front) but I’d like an idea of their quality before asking anyone to part with cash. If no-one’s tried them, I’ll order a few things myself, but I just thought I’d check first.

Secondly, and more importantly: of the photos I’ve put up to date on electricana, which are your favourites (if you’re not watching electricana, then by all means, take a quick look and tell me if anything leaps out at you)? Are there you would seriously consider buying, if they were a reasonable size/price?

[Webdev] PHP and Windows Login

I’m working on the company intranet at the moment which will have all sorts of different levels of access. We have been asked to come up with a system whereby the website does not have a seperate login system of any kind – a user simply logs on to their machine in the morning, and if they look at the intranet in any browser on their machine, they will only see those things that they have access to.

The intranet is using PHP on IIS.

Is their some cunning way I can get at their windows username and password via their browser, without throwing up any kind of log in?

(I would hope *not*, for y’know, security reasons, but I’m just checking.)

Pretty Like Drugs

And madder than a particualrly lunatic crop of badgers.

Queen Adreena were storming. I might attempt a proprer review tomorrow. electricana watchers will almost certainly get a few photos from the gig over the next few days. Short version: rockier than a very lumpy rock garden, and sexier than the second coming of an extraordinarily sexy messiah.

I think I may have sprained the bit of my brain that does the metaphors.

Home again.

Menlo Park: good. Sound quality: rubbish, so it was a bit of a let down. Support act were a cross between Frankie Goes To Hollywood and The Streets (I quite liked it). I may write it up properly tomorrow. (It’s not Sunday until I’ve gone to bed.)

Stopped in at Slimes for an hour or two on my way home, but wound up remaining entirely sober, in a shocking break with tradition, and opted for an early nightbus after a couple of hours dancing. It’s a sufficiently nice morning that I hopped off the bus in Balham, and walked home from there, just to enjoy the dawn. I’m such a fucking hippy.

Zzzzz….

Who?

Easily the strongest episode yet, I find myself seriously anticipating next week’s. Not coincidentally, also the one that has done what I think is the best job of adapting Doctor Who stories to something more like the modern American 40 minute SF show format.

III

Gosh, that’s a surprise: it’s exactly as bad as the previous two. Actually, that’s not fair. It’s better than II. So is dental surgery.

Still, it’s nerdstalgia, and it was a laugh. I don’t begrudge the time or money. Which is damning with faint praise, but it really doesn’t deserve more. Portman and Christensen were rubbish, which didn’t help, since they were supposed to be the emotional core of that film. Portman did her best with some of the worst lines I’ve ever heard, but Christensen still has no discernably personality, charisma, or indeed, acting talent. (McDiarmid was having a good laugh, though – I haven’t seen sets that thoroughly chewed since Jeremy Irons got at the Dungeons and Dragons ones.)

Oh, and the lads behind Yoda’s CGI did a bloody marvellous job – the little green muppet managed most of the few emotional moments that actually worked.

And now we can all get on with the rest of our lives, and George Lucas can retire in order to work on growing that chin he’s always wanted.