No. 1: To stop going on Wikipedia and signing off at 4:00 a.m. having read the history of the screwdriver and the life of Margaret Thatcher.
That is all.
Author Archives: Ben Gould
James Bond is ruined.
The Jason Bourne films coupled with a mighty dose of political correctness defeated the James Bond films. The rot began at the beginning of the noughties with the near-simultaneous release of The Bourne Identity (2002) and Die Another Day (2002). The former was an ascetic, bare-boned spy thriller sans gadgets and one-liners; the last Pierce Brosnan outing was a Roger Moore movie on steroids. And with an invisible car.
Die Another Day, a 40-year anniversary Bond replete with references to previous episodes in the franchise, riled the critics to no end; even today it’s deemed the ‘Worst Bond ever’ etc. The thing is, it’s not that bad. Bond has always been ludicrous, and that’s the appeal. Roger Moore knew this so played to the gallery. He’s impossible to kill and every shady fucker knows who he is the minute he checks into a hotel.
The custodians of Bond looked at this new gritty Bourne phenomenon and had a lightbulb moment. They did away with the special effects and made Bond a well-dressed Matt Damon – humourless, dour, and more boring than Matt Damon, who incidentally isn’t boring. The whole point of Bond is that he’s meant to be impervious to change, an anachronism spanning developments in the cultural landscape. These days he drinks Heineken, is the subject of psychoanalysis sessions at MI6, and proclaims he doesn’t give a damn if his voddy martini is shaken or stirred. And apparently Generation Snowflake think it would be more inviting if Bond were a woman.
I’d also like to add that Skyfall (2012) is an absolute howler of a movie. It’s as exciting as unblocking a toilet. To top this off the third act descends into a minimalist Home Alone (1990) set in the Scottish Highlands. Bond is fucked. Bring back the gadgets.
Further reading/viewing:
https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/43qp4d/daniel-craig-james-bond-boring
Trompe-l’œil in Reykjavík.
This was the pinnacle of Iceland for me. No, not the Blue Lagoon or expedition around the Golden Circle, but a striking visage transplanted on the side of a derelict warehouse by the port of Reykjavík. I don’t know where it’s from but it has something of the Persona (1966) about it. The capital had a lot of this going on – graffiti artists spraying walls seemingly willy-nilly, and in broad daylight. Avant-garde ghetto.
VHS was/is better.
I was given a VHS player last month and a big batch of videos. I was always a DVD aficionado but realised something about 70 minutes into Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (1989), this the movie in which Sean Connery plays Harrison Ford’s dad yet is a mere 12 years older than him in real life.
My thought was: I never skip scenes on a movie if it’s VHS because I can’t be fucked pressing the fast-forward button. It creates a whole new appreciative viewing experience, even if the film is pish.
N.B. The Rock (1996) is a masterpiece. I’m convinced a Michael Bay clone made the picture.
O2 outage – premonitions of Skynet.
25 million customers losing the plot over an ‘outage’ due to “faulty software”. Shit came to a standstill because we can’t function without data.
It reminded me of an episode at Edinburgh’s Corn Exchange when their electronic ‘stuff’ stopped working so they had to add up drinks order prices with a calculator; it was too diabolically stressful for them and the masses were fuming.
The technology ends up, to paraphrase the movie Fight Club (1999), owning us. James Cameron was right and Skynet will be very real. Just wait until O2 becomes self-aware and hacks the nuclear codes.
Further reading:
https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/business-46464730
https://www.theguardian.com/business/2018/dec/06/o2-customers-unable-to-get-online
Turquoise anomaly.
Abbeyhill/Meadowbank is a veritable toilet, by all accounts a shithole. George Best once drank here at the Artisan Bar when he played for Hibs. That’s the legacy of this ghetto. These days it’s a junkie paradise. However, this building is nuts, totally #peacocking. Scenes.
Edinburgh Christmas Market.
The Xmas Market is back, Edinburgh’s ‘winter wonderland’. Stalls selling tacky clobber, ‘German’ food and drink at Weimar Republic-level prices, and jingle bells noises.
Personally, I think it’s shite, but it lures in the tourists and scares away the junkies because they get too confused by bright lights and the smell of warm food.
Four years ago today consisted of crawling from Warsaw to Gdansk on some shitty crapper of a bus, absolutely melted into oblivion. Both cities were hellholes, but the booze was cheap as fuck. And that’s all that matters.Saughton Park – refurbished.
Slap-bang in the middle of the Saughton ghetto is this anomaly. All around crime is rampant and social housing derelict, but I believe millions have been spunked on the park’s upgrades; the epicentre must be a beacon of light. It’s always chock-full of chavs, though, creatures who resemble those chortling Toon Patrol weasels in Who Framed Roger Rabbit (1988). But the park looks lovely, doesn’t it?
Further reading:
http://www.edinburgh.gov.uk/info/20162/saughton_park_project/924/saughton_park_restoration_project
Deadmau5 was in Edinburgh.
The Corn Exchange at Chesser isn’t used to grandiose events. The progressive house master did, however, give us locals a two-hour treat, reeling off classics from ‘Longest Road’ to ‘Strobe’. Lots of folk looked like they were on eccies. Sadly, I wasn’t. But I wish I was. Nevertheless, this is the most exciting thing to ever occur at Chesser since a flasher was lifted in the Asda car park a few years back.
Wanderings and ... wonderings. 