Lawrence Of Arabia

(This is by way of settling an old score. Just because someone once told me I knew nothing (or at least the very close cousin of nothing) about film, I am going to keep on inflicting my analyses on the world.)

The film opens with its main character's death and we are clumsily left in no doubt that Lawrence was unknowable. That opening is practically the film's final missed step. Three and a half hours do not drag. There are lengthy scenes and enigmatic silences but no longeurs. The most cited shot is undoubtedly that in which Omar Sharif makes his entrance from the sun-blurred desert horizon but one can equally note the battle sequences - spectacular to a purpose.

My trusty Halliwell's (2007 edition so therfore before the publishers butchered this magnificent work of reference) properly gives it the maximum four stars but complains that the film does nothing to explain the enigma of Lawrence. That is harsh. The unknowability of extraordinary men is their very point. Besides there is a very strong suggestion in the film that self-knowledge became an uncomfortable burden to Lawrence. That is enough.

Epic film making at its sumptuous best. One of the Overgraduate's Top Fifty.

Writers Write And Black Dogs Hate It

mine has a surplus curve apparently

A lot going on that I could bore you with and I'll be getting into that forthwith but first a good word for chiropracty, if indeed that is a word - actually I don't think it is but it sounds more snappy (geddit?) than chiropractic treatment. On Sharon's recommendation I have discovered the joys of having my spine cracked and I must say the benefits have been immediate. I played golf predictably badly last Thursday (at my new club, Baron Hill on Anglesey) and felt none of the usual ill effects save for the sensation that I really ought to try something I'm good at. Like what, the wits among you will be asking. I'm still bloody looking I will respond.

So all that stuff. Just back from the annual Heineken Cup trip. Compliments to JS, AO, GB and AW for their predictably excellent company and a definite recommendation for that party city, Dublin. In our five years of cup finals only Cardiff has been as good. A particular mention for the drink and the food at Porterhouse, Temple Bar - see their website at Porterhouse . If you make it there, try the tasting menu for beers and the sharing platters for food. Piss-up Central.

The dear old Conservative Party is breaking itself into smithereens over two issues - Europe (deja-vu) and gay marriage. You won't need reminding where I stand on Europe but here is the Overgraduate's take on gay marriage - to the extent that marriage is a contractual and civic arrangement I have no difficulty with it being available to homosexual couples. Same goes for civil partnerships - oh but hold on a minute that special arrangement is only available to same sex couples. What's that all about then? Politicians getting in a bloody mess is what. By the way you may take it as an absolute certainty that the relentless liberals will very soon bring legal action designed to force gay marriage in churches and temples. Trust me, I'm a a lawyer. Oh and a final word for the tory worthies who wrote to the Boy Cameron about how gay marriage makes the party unelectable - you're having a laugh aren't you - it's the other shades of uselessness that do that.

Wagner - been reading a bit about this troublesome genius and listening to The Ring Cycle. It's like Lord of the Rings on operatic steroids.

Seven Samurai - it's available on Love Film and although the subtitles are a bit ropey it's more than worth watching.

Playing To The Gallery

Thou shalt not kill. And more particularly thou shalt not kill a policeman. Mandatory Life This is the bizarre tripe put about by our Home Secretary today. Playing to her gallery of assembled rozzers she elevates the taken life of an officer above that of other citizens. Absolute top grade illogical bollocks. Why am I not surprised.

The Damnedest Thing Just Happened To Me

It's raining good and proper - pissing down, thunder everything. The guttering on the conservatory (as I discovered in an inspection earlier today) has been degraded by the weight of snow it had to hold during the winter. Result One: water cascading straight off the roof. So I did that thing that men do when they are helpless to remedy a situation - I decided to get closer so that I could better observe the deluge. In my curiosity I had forgotten that I had closed the conservatory doors to deaden the sound of the rain. Result Two: I advanced full tilt (well full tiltish) into the glass doors. Bastard well hurt as well. Now my nose looks like I've made yet another rugby comeback. Good news - the conservatory doors are ok.

Which isn't what I had intended to write about but I thought you might like the immediacy of the above.

No what I had meant to say was that we watched Ray recently, the Ray Charles biopic. I recommend it. Jamie Foxx oustanding. Having imparted this information I'm now going to try to negotiate the stairs without doing myself another mischief and you can all laugh among yourselves.

Sequence And Consequence (No 1) Mountain Sea Sand

(       )

There

is

no rhyme

in mountains

but sharp poetry

today embraced by lying snow's

deceit flowing in fair face frozen invitation

(                                                                     )

Alienated by ocean we wait on the beach's poetry zone

of practical amplitude and measure

maximum oscillation by skimming stone

we can insert equal and opposite

forces of disruption and still they come

and still they come plain exquisite

exquisite plain away and home

(Appian Way St Peter's Dome

We stray) and lift behold again

and now redux exquisite plain