On your marks...

It’s 08.08.08 and at 8.08pm Chinese time, one of the most controversial Olympics of modern times will open.
Following protests, torch hijacks and the approach to which families and homes have been ‘removed’ to make way for flower beds and athlete villages, the flame will finally be lit in Beijing – paving the way for competitors from all around the world to live out their career ambitions in front of a global audience.

I have no doubts that the protests will continue and probably intensify as the weeks go by, but for me as much as the political issues are important, growing up I have fond memories of Olympics gone by.

I was very much into my athletics as a child, still holding the secondary school record for 100m sprints (12.72 seconds – damn right!) and like many children had the dream of one day running for my country and for some reason, having the desire to be handed not just the gold but the smart Great Britain tracksuit too!

I guess my first memory then was of Linford Christie and Sally Gunnell at the Barcelona Olympics, as Linford dominated the track the sheer determination and focus in his eyes (yes at that young age I was looking at his eyes you dirty buggers!) was inspiring to anyone watching.
My more recent memories include the extreme lows and desperation of Paula Radcliffe breaking down in Athens and the sheer ecstasy of Kelly Holmes not only winning two golds but the look on her face as she crossed the line. I remember my whole family on our feet, screaming at the television – I swear as she finished, we were all as knackered as Dame Holmes herself!

The down side this year will be the time difference, but I don’t think that will stop the local contingent gathering to watch our local lad. Tom Daley, the 14 year old diver from Plymouth is preparing for his first Olympics and a mass gathering is expected at the giant screen they’ve set up in Plymouth’s city centre to show the Games.

Although technically brilliant for his age, his aim was always London 2012, the fact he has qualified to Beijing will give him a massive boost in confidence and experience – I just hope the media don’t expect too much as he aims to do his best.
Of course it would be amazing and he is more than capable, but to balancing at the top of one of those boards the last thing he needs is the pressure of performing, which the British press seem to put on any potential star.

A historic event, the Olympics is one of the last true experiences to test human endurance both physically and mentally. The variety of sports on show can truly unite a nation and fortunately you don’t need to rely on tactical country voting or text numbers to define a winner – it’s all down to who can live up to the expectation and perform on the occasion.

Sadly, there are dream, medals and careers to be lost – but thankfully, idols, memories and the inspiration for future athletes to be gained. And the best part? This time in four years, it’ll practically be on our doorsteps here in the UK and I for one cannot wait.

What a feeling? Sorry, WHAT feeling?

I went to the world premiere of 'Flashdance the Musical' this week.

My two word review? Meh, nearly.

My one sentence review? If you're going to do a stage version of such a memorable and iconic dance movie, make the end audition piece everyone's seen as energetic and inspired as the film version and don't try to fill the much loved legwarmers still being well worn by 'Fame' and 'Rent'.

On a lighter note, if anyone could recommend an alternative song to 'What A Feeling' to have stuck in my head since Monday - I'd appreciate any answers on a postcard!

*Takes deep breath...*

Here's a thought. Why put up petrol prices when you are closing post offices, therefore forcing us to drive further, therefore having to buy more expensive petrol, therefore inflicting more damage on the environment?

I appreciate it's a reaction to the current financial climate but can't someone just give us some slack or at least create a balance somewhere along the line?

I watched an old episode of 'I'm Alan Partridge' the other night and there was a scene in a petrol station, where unleaded petrol was 76p. Aah the good old days, when comedians were funny, British sitcoms were clever and even the cost of running a car was laughable.



Shortly after this blog was published, Helen had the soapbox removed from her feet following successful surgery. Normal apolitical service shall resume shortly.

A spoonful of sugar

While walking through the corridor of my local cinema to get to screen 9 at the weekend, I was faced with the exiting audience of screen 4. Bounding out like Labrador puppies after a roll of toilet paper, the predominately female crowd of varying ages were smiling, laughing and happily scoffing the last stray Revels whilst humming the hits of Benny, Bjorn and co.

For the last 2 hours they had forgotten about the problems in their life, the impending threat of a recession, the continued rising cost of fuel and car tax and even who the hell got kicked out of Big Brother on Friday. Thus is not just the power of the movies, but in particular, the warm, fuzzy glow of the musical and in this case, 'Mama Mia'.

The trend of the last 6 years of re-introducing musicals and stage shows to the screen comes at a time when our 'real world' isn't such a happy place - you only have to pick up a newspaper or listen to a general conversation to hear of the previously mentioned social downers as well as the increase in gun and knife crime.
In a similar vein, the musical first came to the big screen back in the hard days of war and in America, the great depression. Directors were specifically asked to produce uplifting, positive films and short movies to act as a form of utopia for the masses - to help them forget about the darkness that was looming outside the cinema.
Synchronised girls diving into lush blue pools as their make up remained immaculate, Fred and Ginger tap-dancing, and songs everyone could join in with certainly helped this.

You can't help but wonder if this has been the same thinking behind the reprise of the musical in modern day cinema, perhaps not in the same way that the directors have been told but instead the films are responding to society's reaction to bad times.

The first notable and successful musical of this kind was 'Chicago', which won the Oscar for Best Picture in 2003 - a memorably subdued affair for the biggest night in Hollywood as it coincided with the invasion of Baghdad. At an event where often you get as much if not more media coverage for what you wear instead of what you win, the evening was muted with many of the world's most beautiful actresses dressing down in black and acceptance speeches including support for the troops but disrespect for their President.

Although clearly a brilliant film, and one of my own personal favourites from the musical genre - you can't help but think that it winning the top prize as well as other accolades for its cast, gave the film the type of publicity to encourage everyone who hadn't seen the film to go along. This in turn would provide its audience with enriching, happier thoughts at the time of impending war, death and destruction.

Before and since this time we've had 'Moulin Rouge', 'Phantom of the Opera', 'Happy Feet', 'Hairspray', the 'High School Musical' films and now, 'Mama Mia'. Not only does it give us the chance to see if some of the most well-known actors and actresses can actually hold a note (some should definately stick to the day job...even if Daniel Craig now has it), it gives us the wonder of being able to break into song, knowing that the whole street will join in, complete with dance routine (me and my friend tried it in French class, aged 14, sadly it doesn't happen!) and the inevitable ending that everyone lives happily ever after (I can't promise that either).

It's escapism at its most colourful, camp and toe-tapping best and if its job is solely to help us forget about our day to day problems, then I'd happily sit there in screen 9 and watch it over and over again...if the pots of Revels could keep coming too then who am I to stress that £20 only gets me a quarter of a tank of unleaded these days.

Musical films certainly aren't the cure to the problems in our society, but if they try and help us look on the bright side and put a spring in our step for at least the rest of the day let alone the long term future, then as Julie Andrews once said in 'The Sound of Music'...

"...that's a very good place to start."

I got 99 problems but Glasto ain't one

I waited in anticipation last night for Jay-Z’s, some have said controversial, appearance as the Saturday night headliner at the Glastonbury Festival.

As some fans had voiced their concern at a hip hop act topping the bill at this traditional and long running fest, I was intrigued as to what his reception may be – would they dare to bottle one of the greatest rappers of certainly our generation, or would the laid back country folk merely accept him as another genre to the eclectic bow belonging to Michael Eavis?

It was Noel Gallagher who started the ball rolling once the acts had been revealed in April, saying that the choice of Jay-Z was deviating from the festival’s tradition of guitar-based headliners.

“If it ain’t broke don’t fix it,” he said. “If you start to break it then people aren’t going to go. I’m sorry, but Jay-Z? No chance. “Glastonbury has a tradition of guitar music and even when they throw the odd curve ball in on a Sunday night you go ‘Kylie Minogue?’ I don’t know about it. But I’m not having hip-hop at Glastonbury. It’s wrong.”

He may not have had it at Glastonbury, but it certainly appeared that 120,000 revelers did last night. I knew it was going in the right direction when the Brooklyn rapper straddled onto the stage to sing his version of the Oasis hit ‘Wonderwall’ – complete, may I add, with his live band…yes, a live band which for Noel’s sake did include guitars.

I was pleasantly surprised as many rap acts rely mostly on a backing track and microphone, but the fact Jay-Z had put on his full show which fully engrossed and included the crowd was impressive – regardless of the musical genre.

It was typical Noel Gallagher’s remarks would make the headlines, he’s an old pro at the festivals and his wants to protect that but Glastonbury has always been fully open to different types of music. After all they have something like 27 individual stages, with music varying from folk and country, dance to jazz and new world to the new addition of hip hop. Part of its mass pulling power is that it sells itself as a ‘family’ festival, where there truly is something for everyone.

So while the open-minded good, good people of Glastonbury were devouring their slice of American pie, I hope somewhere in the world Mr. Gallagher was being force-fed a dish of the humble variety.

Showers suspend play

You know that summer is officially here and you’re guaranteed two weeks of rainy showers, when you turn on the TV and hear that infamous music for the start of Wimbledon. Out they roll the past tennis masters to commentate, Boris Becker out of his cupboard and John McEnroe out of his soundproof box. Yes, I AM being serious.

I just adore how British the whole tournament is, I know that’s more blazingly obvious than a Big Brother contestant appearing in a lad’s mag, but the rules and traditions are so quintessentially British.
From the determination of a Brit camping out to get on Centre Court and once there sitting under an umbrella, safe in the knowledge that ‘giving it 5 minutes’ will clear the grey skies – and that’s just our British players!

The great hope and longing that our national number one WILL make it to the final and lift the trophy this year and the sudden hilarity of a pigeon landing on court and disrupting match point – when in any other situation, walking through the city seeing one of those buggers merely gives you the desire to kick it towards the direction of the road.

The Britishness seems to rub off on the international stars too, Roger Federer in his blazer last year and this year in an even more fitting cardigan – complete with gold buttons and RG initialed crest. It’s more forced to please the masses than Madonna’s Americano-Cockney accent.
Ralph Lauren is shipped in with his preppy style to make the court staff and umpires look like 1950’s boyband dreamboats, while the public descend on the stomping ground now known as Murrayfield or Murray Mound – previously a Hill belonging to Henman and a Ridge owned by Rusedski.

We also love an underdog and once the tradition of our man or woman going out in round 2 becomes a distant memory lost in the bottom of a strawberry punnet, we adopt another less obvious hero as our own to defy the odds.

But if us Brits survived the Blitz, then what’s a little sprinkling of rain going to do to harm us during a tennis tournament? The possibility that Cliff Richard’s agent will be rubbing his hands together at the thought of one spit of rain landing on the umpire’s nose – that’s enough to shake an entire nation to its very core.

The People Versus

One of the biggest music releases of the year has lived up to its hype as Coldplay’s latest offering headed straight to number 1 and even spawned (excuse the pun) their first UK number 1 single, a position ‘Speed of Sound’ was embarrassingly denied by that damn Crazy Frog a couple of years ago.
Even so, as ‘Viva La Vida’ or ‘Death And All His Friends’ or ‘Come On Martin Pick One Title’ or ‘Is This Just A PR Stunt?’, hit the top with a sprinkling of iTunes advertising magic, it only just survived some scathing reviews from the critics.

But does the fact it will clearly go on to sell millions and save EMI’s arse once again go to show that the general buying public doesn’t listen to critics?
After all, surely if the most praising review of the Crazy Frog song was ever uncovered (and the critic who wrote it sent to a darkened room for the rest of their days), didn’t help propel it to number 1 that time over Coldplay. Does public demand beat critical opinion?

Maybe it’s different across the board of media, people and fans of different music know what they like and are loyal to it. On the other hand something like film often depends wholly on the opinions of a review to even get it off the ground.
I can only whisper the word ‘Glitter’ starring Mariah Carey without getting a shudder – god knows how many of us actually donned a fake moustache and glasses to go and watch it, but the rotten tomatoes and bad reviews it got certainly put me off I’ll freely admit…not that I was too bothered about a film based loosely on Mariah’s life – as loose as her bra evidently.

But the gem in the people versus critics comes when a slow burner of an album or film suffers the mauling of a hungry clan of critics only to then be outdone by Joe Public as they buy and attend in force, based on the best form of publicity there is – word of mouth.
If some old dodder from The Guardian tells you Will Farrell is an unfunny buffoon attempting to mock the 1970s news genre but then your best mate tells you ‘Anchorman’ is funny as fuck – based on whose opinion will you honestly bother going to see the movie?

The public know what they like, whether it makes a lot of sense of not – after all, ask yourself, do you actually know anyone who bought the Crazy Frog song? Or even a Westlife single? WHO is doing that? If you do know, I’d suggest you hand them into the nearest police station as I certainly consider them a threat to the public.
Then again, making such a statement - does that make me a critic now?

The buying public, whether it’s music, cinema, fashion or theatre to name a few, appreciate that what they like is a lot of the time based on what it gives them. The critic’s opinion may sway your impulses if perhaps you’re undecided, but fundamentally you know what type of coffee you like and although someone may suggest you try something new you stick to that one as it gives you what you want.
Now I’m not comparing Coldplay to a mocha latte with wings or probably the more appropriately named chilly frappachino (hell, let’s make it Fair Trade if we’re being precise) but that’s my example.

As the Crazy Frog no doubt wallows in a pond full of spawn from the past groupie conquests of his hey days, Chris Martin continues to write what some see as dreary soft rock and others as anthemic, arms in the air classics, waking up beside Gwyneth Paltrow and making trade fair, you tend to think if Coldplay satisfy so many people with their music then who, besides a frog in goggles, is going to stop them – certainly, for now, not the critics.

Welcome, Benvenuto, Bienvenue and How Do!

So, I've decided to start writing a blog.

I appreciate this is neither the newest thing to do, nor the most fashionable. But as social networking sites take over people's lives it seems that these days people are more interested in who you know - rather than what you know.

Adding to that belief, I'm sure if you know me or have just stumbled on this blog by mistake you may not even care for what I think - but I enjoy the writing and it keeps the old brain of a 25 year old ticking over. Of course in an ideal world I'd be sitting in front of my laptop, sipping a Cosmopolitan in my New York apartment overlooking Central Park...

...the reality is that I'm typing on my old PC (a battered victim of my 2004 dissertation), trying to wipe spilt coffee from between the T and Y keys, with the view of the opposite house's trees and a mobile phone mast on the horizon to inspire me.

Bet I get a damn better Orange signal than Carrie bloody Bradshaw anyway. ;-)
Stick that in your Jimmy Choo's and walk in it.