God On Film

 

Cecil B. de Mille had two stabs at filming The Ten Commandments, both gargantauan affairs, the second (the first is a silent film) coming in at approaching four hours. Channel 5 did their bit for religiosity on the box at Easter by showing the 1956 talkie. It has its merits although the special effects seem, by modern standards, vaguely comical. Never mind, it still looks opulent and, for all its length, it fair rattles along. Nor can one criticise the scene-stealing efforts of Heston and Brynner in the two principal roles. I have a soft spot for this sort of Hollywood excess and Easter is the right time for what we might term, God - the Movie. 65/100.

I followed up my creditable efforts in the gale at Royal St. David's by assuming that I was all set to take the Royal Pype Hayes apart. Think again Pig. The usual middling golf was all I could manage and the pattern repeated itself on a visit with the QMT lads to Forest of Arden last week - we've got some vouchers we're using up. We played on the second course at F of A, the Aylesford, which I think is a tidy enough test. It was in commendable nick and I played really quite adequately on fourteen holes but allowed the others to debase my card. Back to The Royal Pype Hayes this evening - could this be time for that long-awaited breakthrough? No, would be the answer you are searching for. Old dogs and new tricks come to mind.

The war in Ukraine rages on and it is impossible to feel other than a disenfranchised observer. It is beyond my powers as commentator but its effect on domestic politics does strike me as noteworthy. In one of those horrible twists of political fate, this immoral war has come to the rescue of our own immoral Prime Minister. It is tempting to fall into the trap of saying that at such a time of international (not to mention economic) crisis we should not be indulging in squabbles about the leadership of the Conservative Party. Tempting yes, but wrong nonetheless. I watched the shameless scoundrel Johnson in parliament last week. He would have us believe that he was just too pig ignorant to understand that the parties he attended were in breach of the regulations he so consistently ordained for the rest of us. He is not that stupid. Bloody liar.  

 

God Is In His Heaven

That oft quoted line from Browning came to me the other day as I surveyed the windswept links at Harlech from the safety of the lounge bar - I am nothing if not unoriginal - probably my mean grammar school education.

I had just completed eighteen holes at Royal St. David's in the company of Big Willy Mac. The wind was severe (this is an understatement), certainly sufficient to scare more sensible souls off the course. Thus the two of us had these world-class links to ourselves. Fantastic, bloody fantastic. No day for keeping a scorecard but I can immodestly tell you that I parred the last (as I had done on my previous visit to RSD) and secured a narrow victory, BWM having come to grief in a greenside bunker. BWM took defeat in good part (our lifetime score sits well in his favour) as a man might well do when he is a member of as august a club as RSD. BWM moved to North Wales only recently and still maintains a country membership at his original club, Cavendish in Buxton, another wonderful course. To have been a member of two such great institutions might seem a tad on the lucky side but I can assure you that Willy is a sterling being and deserves whatever luck comes his way.

I am at Plas Piggy, the last of the floors having been laid yesterday - it looks brilliant and has removed pretty much the last vestige of my own DIY improvements to the place. Tempus fugit - it is closing in on quarter of a century since we bought the house. The best investment of my life, even with the extortionate penalty Council Tax. 

 When last I blogged I was lamenting the truly dreadful film, Blacklight. A happier report today of a worthy film - Animal Farm is a 1954 animation (I believe it may have been the first such British feature) which faithfully adapts George Orwell's important fable. It is understated and for the most part avoids the temptation to burnish the story with any winsome comedy - it would be difficult to imagine Disney not falling into that trap. As I say, worthy, and thereby mildly underwhelming, but nevertheless worth the effort. Better still read the book again. 63/100.  

Setting Low Bars

The Taken series of films get progressively worse but at least they have a certain panache on their side. The violence is gratuitous but stylish and the Liam Neeson character has a good strap-line what with his very particular set of skills. But don't worry I'm not going to trouble you with an evaluation of Taken - I've probably done that somewhere else. No, I must alert you to something altogether worse. Massively, egregiously, painfully worse. Ladies and gentlemen I give you Blacklight.

Somebody thought Neeson was worth another outing as gun-toting avenger notwithstanding that we are edging close to his seventieth birthday. They even give him another nice line ('You're going to need more men') but that line is deployed far more tellingly in the trailer than in the film itself. I don't blame Neeson - take the money and run mate. Bu, oh, that script. It's so full of holes it's indecent. And as for its obvious belief that it is somehow going to be the action genre's answer to All the President's Men, well grow up you idiots. This is a scandalous waste of time and effort. I would however admit that it is worth watching for a laugh. Not as bad as The Jackal but pretty bloody bad all the same. 31/100.