Lust Caution: a postscript

You may have noticed that my review of Luct Caution (below) contains absolutely nothing about the plot. That's because I went to see it knowing nothing about it aside from that it was set in WW2 China, and I think it's the kind of film where the less you know the better. Go, enjoy.

Lust Caution

There's an old cliche about actresses getting interviewed about nudity and saying that they will do it if it's essential to the plot. And everybody laughs because when is nudity ever essential to the plot rather than a pleasing piece of titillation to tide you through the movie? Answer: in Ang Lee's incredible new film, 'Lust Caution'. I have never seen such explicit sex in a film, equally I have never felt so strongly that every frame of it was essential to the story. And titillating? Only if you're the kind of person who enjoys googling beheadings. This is the only time that I have seen sex on screen depicted in all its true complexity and intensity, albeit from a very dark place. This is the kind of thing that the term "adult movie" should really describe: a true film for adults, exceptionally bravely acted by Tony Leung and Tang Wei, and directed with such skill by Lee that it knocks Brokeback Mountain into a cocked (so to speak) hat. Be warned however that it is very upsetting, very long and absolutely the worst possible thing you could go to on a first date. I'd post the trailer here but it is about the least accurate depiction of a film I have ever seen while still being cut from the same scenes.

On a personal note, could I just add that I might have enjoyed this film even more had the woman sitting next to me not taken *two* mobile phone calls during it?

Strictly Come Dancing: Week 3 Results

So adieu, then, Willie: we never got to see your Latin dancing and that's a real shame. You were robbed: your light footwork performed by the body of Gethin Jones would have kept you in the contest for weeks. His lumpen shuffling delivered by a shiny-headed pensioner would have had him out in week one. Blame it on the bossanova.

Here's another question: how on *earth* is Kenny Logan still in? Scots block vote?

UPDATE: Did anybody else see Willie crying on Strictly Come Dancing: It Takes Two? Bless him and his walrus moustache.

iPod Moment: Donna Summer 'Last Dance'

What I mean by an iPod moment is when something so mighty comes on your shuffle that the whole world around you, and everything inside you that is bringing you down, is swept away in the glory of the music. No taking the piss, now. It is a concept devoid of irony.

So anyway, if you were in Angel tube station last night wondering who that girl in the green coat dancing in the ticket queue was, that was me. Donna Summer's 'Last Dance': just too damn irresistible.

Strictly Come Dancing: Week 3

First, an apology: I watched this week's Strictly Come Dancing in the pub, after a lunch of cider and crisps, waiting for the rugby to come on, and my memories of it are... hazy. However, from the murk at the bottom of my mind come a few images, like monocellular beings emerging from primeval ooze, only monocellular beings with bad fringes... that must be Tess. No belt today though. Phew.

Official Woman Who Talks Too Much Alesha did the blog proud with her jive, despite wearing a costume made from the hair of Edd the Duck. On the boys' side my current favourite is Matt who also did a great jive and I am beginning to think could be a real contender, especially when you consider the lamentable form of end of the pier novelty act Dominic, forget about the weight loss where is his neck John Barnes, your eyes do not deceive you I am actually carved out of wood Gethin, and the rest of the boys. Gethin in fact got great marks for his tango which surprised me because all I could see was him standing still and gurning, though his facial expressions paled into insignificance next to the gallery of face-pulling that was Leticia Dean: everything from "this food's too hot" to "I'm constipated" via "where are my reading glasses" and "I've got chewing gum in my hair." They had dressed her in a lovely, flattering dress, though, which could have been a crushing disappointment, except that Gabby had been styled in a grotesque high ponytail which took care of all my fashion disaster needs.

If you missed it, you can catch all the action on video here.

Which do you think is more significant?

Defrauding viewers out of £8million, or naming a kitten Socks? Think carefully before you answer.

Neighbours: selective amnesia

How convenient that Paul Robinson should be suffering from amnesia in Neighbours right now. Not only does that mean he couldn't remember having shagged Rebecca, Oliver's mum, meaning that he fathered Oliver and that his daughter Elle is therefore sleeping with her own brother, it also means that he can't pipe up and say, "What a coincidence! This is just like when my sister Lucy was accidentally shagging her long-lost brother Glenn." Lucy and Glenn, as I recall but Paul does not, carried on their shenanigans even after their inconvenient level of relatedness was uncovered, but the BBC censored it so mostly we got incomprehensible moments of them arguing about seemingly nothing in corridors. I wonder if the screenwriters will be so bold this time around - or if the BBC will let them?

The Booker Prize

I sort of feel like, as a "cultural" blogger and an author-type person, I should voice an opinion about the winner of this year's Booker Prize. But I can't, because I haven't read a single book on the shortlist. I've had a look around the internet and discovered that this hasn't stopped any number of other people voicing their equally uninformed opinions on the subject, but I have decided to take the moral high ground with this one, and my, the view is fine from here.

However, I can say that I have finally caught up with reading the 1996 shortlist. They should have given it to Rohinton Mistry.

Neighbours: Rosie and Frazer's wedding

I don't know why anyone still bothers to get married in Neighbours. You're only going to end up dead (Dee) or jilted (Annalise) or have your husband realise that he loves you too much to subject you to the horror of beng wed to him and therefore annul the wedding, precipitating your departure from the series (Lynn).

Today, Frazer (professional gambler, lately in wheelchair due to least convincing psychological illness since Lucy's hysterical blindness, now walking again having found superhuman strength in limbs whilst rescuing Ned's long-lost son Mickey from death by electrocution in the pool) and Rosie (lawyer, virgin) got hitched, meaning that doom MUST ensue. And ensue it did: Mickey (Ned's long lost son, lately almost dead in electrified swimming pool) managed to accidentally reverse a giant lorry into the middle of Ramsey Street, incredibly slowly and yet fast enough to crush a minibus carrying all of our best-loved characters. In a cul de sac. Fancy that.

Who will live? Who will die? I can't say for sure. I would just mention, though, that it's probably not the best move to launch a who will live, who will die storyline just after investing a whole lot of money shooting a new title sequence showing which characters are going to be series regulars for the next several months. Just a thought.

Beautiful Young Minds

While being kept awake on Saturday night by drunk, singing rugby fans, I found myself asking: why is sport important? Not why is it fun to watch, but why do we take it so seriously? The answers I came up with were pretty standard and not all that interesting: because it's the best competing with the best, the sportsmen and women are pushing themselves to incredible feats of achievement, makes your country proud etc etc. I am not remotely interested in sport but I decided that sports fans had a point, but please could they stop singing now.

However, watching Beautiful Young Minds, a documentary about young maths geniuses competing at the International Maths Olympiad, I had to ask myself, why don't we care as much about this as we do about sport? These kids are incredibly talented - in fact I've done maths and I've played football and I'd say I am more likely to represent my country at the latter than at the former, and this is from a girl who can't do a header without closing her eyes. They are pushing themselves to incredible feats of achievement. They make our country proud. But we have never heard of any of them. Name some great living mathematicians.

One answer is of course that rugby is more fun to watch than maths. Fair enough. But another is that these children are the type to be bullied and ostracised at school: overwhelmingly intelligent, cripplingly awkward and shy, a high level of autism spectrum disorders etc. One of the boys in the documentary one a silver medal at the Maths Olympiad, a goal he had been working towards his whole life, and he was too shy to go on stage to get his medal. In short, we don't like them, so we don't aspire to be like them, and we are not interested in their achievements. But why does the fact that they are not social successes mean that we can't celebrate what they can do? We certainly have no problem adoring stupid sportsmen who can barely hold a conversation.

Poignantly, the aforementioned boy who wouldn't go onto the stage was talking about how much he prefered life in China, where his "different" behaviour was explained by everyone there as just because of him being a foreigner. In China, he told us, it's considered a good thing to be intelligent, and if you are exceptional at maths that is considered cool. So why in this country are we so quick to celebrate sporting achievement and sneer at intellectual achievement? Just because it's "geeky"? Bad answer.

This blog loves maths geeks. And suspects that it wouldn't exist without them. The Woman Who Talked Too Much, officially backing the UK at the 2008 International Maths Olympiad!