Twelve Films At Christmas - 1 & 2

Sometimes you watch a film and find it perfectly pleasing in a passing and impermanent sort of a way, and then you find yourself wondering why they bothered. I'm afraid that is how I feel about the 2016 reboot of Swallows and Amazons. The books on which it is (loosely) based are precious to me. Arthur Ransome may well have been a funny sort of a cove (certainly his toleration of communist Russia doesn't read too well in retrospect - mind you 20/20 hindsight is a cheap virtue) but he was a damned fine writer of children's fiction and operated in an innocent age. The books warrant adult re-reading. There already exists a perfectly serviceable 1974 film version which sticks to the source novel. So why shoe-horn into this more recent offering a hokey plot involving muderous Russian spies? Daft and a disservice to the source text. 56/100.

And now for something altogether grander. Realised on a thrilling scale and, yes I'm going to say it, up there in discusssions as to the greatest films ever made (quite certainly amongst the greatest ever made in Britain) we have A Matter of Life and Death. No doubt you have seen it already but, if not, watch out for it at Christmas (it's usually on) and treat yourself. Fast-paced, brilliantly played, romantic, clever and, in its colour sequences, sumptuous. A genuinely great movie. 93/100.

Advent 6

If anything can perfectly capture a mood of volcanic consumerism and bare emotions, it is the work of Roy Lichtenstein. His blow-ups of cartoon drama are initially arresting but also have the power to retain your interest. The image scalds onto your mind and stays there. It is clean-lined and universally comprehensible. Shown is Crying Girl from 1963.

Advent 5

This, arguably the most widely influential piece of pop art, was created by Jann Haworth and Peter Blake. It is the cover from arguably (there's that word again - utilised to camouflage my own adamantine opinions) the most important album of all time, Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. 

The pop art flavour will continue tomorrow. OG is so down with the kids. Or more accurately he is down with those who were kids when he was himself a juvenile. Uber-pseud.

Advent 4

I spoke yesterday of my pseudo-intellectual posturing as a young undergraduate. Well the fact is that I soon discovered that many of my fellow pseuds had Bosch posters on their walls as well. Making matters worse it was clear that even more of them had Dali posters to match mine. No matter, Salvador Dali may have been an old rascal but he was a man of huge technical skills and a provocative imagination. Today's picture is the very one that hung next to my Bosch poster - Impression of Africa. 

Advent 3

There were giants in the land. I was taught by a collection of learned and interesting men and women. It was their intellectual hinterland that made the very greatest teachers. One such was Andrew Pargeter who taught Physics, the only science that I took at O level. He was a good teacher but a greater impression was made on me by his collection of outside skills - magician, brilliant guitarist, man of letters. For General Studies lessons in the sixth form the teachers were given their head and allowed to range over their outside interests. It was in that spirit that Andy introduced us to Surrealism. And it was in that spirit that he offered us Hieronymus Bosch as the great fifteenth century progenitor of that twentieth century disruptive school. 

I mentioned yesterday my time as a very lazy student in London. On my wall in my room at King's College Hall was the poster of this Bosch painting. I thought it made me an intellectual. Pseud more like it. Great picture though.

Advent 2

Today's picture takes me back to my time reading Law at KCL, for the very good reason that rather than spend time at my studies I would instead wander down the Strand and pass my time in the National Gallery. Seurat's Bathers at Asnieres is painting on an heoroic scale. I do like a big canvas - is that another signifier of vulgarity? I would love to own a wall big enough to do justice to this picture.

Advent 1

I loved my father very much. He was a great man. And so it is that we start the walk through my imaginary gallery with the work of a man whose genius was pointed out to me by Dad. I couldn't actually let you pin me down as to my favourite Turner. Other more renowned paintings of his have been featured on this blog before but for today I will settle upon Snow Storm. Original hangs in Tate London. You need to get up close and be drawn into the elemental drama.