IMPORTANT NOTICE:
Brainwiring LTD is conducting a recall of one of its products in Ireland.
The product affected is
Swearing Lady - limited Bilious Edition.
This is being done purely as a precautionary measure, as this product may contain minute traces of the Bends. Well, perhaps. The product can be identified easily; she's currently shaking like a terrier on Watership Down and imagining that the Bends might be about as painful and confusing as the kind of migraine she's after getting this morning. She may also be whooping sadly and whispering, "It's coming up at me out of the floor. In waves. In waves, yes." Please DO NOT arrest the product; she swears it's nothing illegal. It's a migraine. An exquisitely disorienting one. We apologise for any inconvenience caused. You can go about your business.
ALSO WANTED: One Ken Loach for crimes against cinema. This cunt of a migraine might never have happened without the product's watching The Wind That Shakes The Barley(Came Out Of Ken Loach's Arse) last night. The product feels that this attempt at film-making was the worst she has seen since MiniMe accidentally pressed the record button on the camera phone. The product is completely unsure what the worst thing about the film was; the dire script, the meandering, distracted camerawork, the constant inaccuracies, the plot hole (yes, singular), the nonexistent characterisation, or Cillian Murphy's cheekbones. If he'd just hurry up with his obvious metamorphosis into Liz Taylor he'd save us all a chunk of time.
Brainwiring LTD is conducting a recall of one of its products in Ireland.
The product affected is
Swearing Lady - limited Bilious Edition.
This is being done purely as a precautionary measure, as this product may contain minute traces of the Bends. Well, perhaps. The product can be identified easily; she's currently shaking like a terrier on Watership Down and imagining that the Bends might be about as painful and confusing as the kind of migraine she's after getting this morning. She may also be whooping sadly and whispering, "It's coming up at me out of the floor. In waves. In waves, yes." Please DO NOT arrest the product; she swears it's nothing illegal. It's a migraine. An exquisitely disorienting one. We apologise for any inconvenience caused. You can go about your business.
ALSO WANTED: One Ken Loach for crimes against cinema. This cunt of a migraine might never have happened without the product's watching The Wind That Shakes The Barley(Came Out Of Ken Loach's Arse) last night. The product feels that this attempt at film-making was the worst she has seen since MiniMe accidentally pressed the record button on the camera phone. The product is completely unsure what the worst thing about the film was; the dire script, the meandering, distracted camerawork, the constant inaccuracies, the plot hole (yes, singular), the nonexistent characterisation, or Cillian Murphy's cheekbones. If he'd just hurry up with his obvious metamorphosis into Liz Taylor he'd save us all a chunk of time.
21 comments:
I know...it was the biggest load of balls wasn't it? It was just so fucking riveting that I fell asleep in the shagging cinema, having paid €12.00 for the 'luxury seat'. Quite comfily too! But yeah, there were ould wans in the film going around in floral printed blouses and cute handbags, which just wasn't fucking done 'back in the day'. Tut.
It's an odd film for me. Haven't seen it yet, want to cos it was shot around these parts but at the same time don't want to as it was made by Ken Loach.
He comes from the Ladybird school of condescending socialism. The poor man can't even spell subtlety let alone insert any into his movies.
He has made one good movie in 40 years and that was Kes - 37 years ago. In fact, that might not have been any good either, it just made me cry when I was a kid cos the bad man killed the nice boy's kestrel.
I've heard nothing but bile about this film. I can't wait to see it.
Oh, and get well soon. Have a cup of tea.
You're not getting it easy at the moment are you SL, apart from being being given the nod as probably the best written Irish blog (on your day and when focused, what the fuck did he mean by that, fucking hacks!).
So...let the dogs roam the estate while you take the hair of Monday's dog (may as well be tipsy if you're going to have a sore head, right?) and curl up on the couch in a drooling drunken slumber.
Super Furry animals are shit.
You're shit.
>:(
"...the worst thing about the film was; the dire script,..."
Ken Loach sticking to the script? That'll be a first!
He HAS to be forgiven though for 'Cathy Come Home' and 'Poor Cow' - The charity 'Shelter', was set up as a direct result of Cathy Come Home alone. Doesn't excuse crap work, but he's earned the right to crap now and then.
Was not our own Eamon Casey featured in 'Cathy come home' ?
Commiserations Missus SL, I blogged about it recently too, in my part of the world we call it The Whinge that Shook the Hurley...
Kav, it was written by a Scot who read Tom Barry's and others' tales of derring-do in the 1920s. Tales of your 'flying column' would be more interesting! :)
Pinklewicker - Well spotted. Yes, t'was the man himself.
A story, (not mine):
"... Eamonn Casey's housing organisation grew bigger and more successful. It fused into a national body called Shelter, with a dynamic young Englishman, Des Wilson, at its head. A documentary was produced, Cathy Come Home, which caused shockwaves in Britain.
I lost contact with Father Eamonn. But one day he visited the offices of my new newspaper, the Surrey Comet.
I accompanied him to a house, to which a couple in their 20s - who had produced three children in three years of marriage - had moved that day. The mother was on cloud nine, overjoyed that through Father Casey, she and her husband had obtained a loan.
The priest took me to one side and asked if I had noticed anything odd about their latest baby, a mere three months old. "Look carefully," he said. The baby had been born blind. So happy was the mother about their new home that the affliction hardly seemed to matter.
In 1969, Father Casey was removed from his housing role (his political profile was becoming embarrassing) and made Bishop of Kerry. Time passed and I left Britain for foreign shores, so did Casey.
About 10 years ago I revisited Britain, and decided to look up old haunts. By chance I found myself in the street where the couple with the blind child had lived. On an impulse I rang the doorbell. It was answered by the "child", now 25 years old and a telephonist. She told me that she and her parents prayed every day for Bishop Eamonn Casey."
i hope you feel better now. mind you, your headache might be god's punishment for making me fall in love with josh homme. i mean, he's ginger!!
(As a ginger-head, I resemble the previous remark.)
SL: "this attempt at film-making was the worst...since MiniMe accidentally pressed the record button on the camera phone":
Spit-tea-all-over-my-monitor-worthy. Thank you. Must go get paper towels now.
Well if nobody else is going to defend it...
Compared to the likes of Braveheart, this was a very balanced film. Loach doesn't hold back from letting you know his personal opinion, but anybody with an ounce of empathy can relate to those on either side of the post-treaty argument as it's presented in this. He even gives the Brits a chance to seem human on one or two occasions.
As for the script, well the meandering dialogue is the price you pay for allowing your actors a lot of improvisation room (as Loach did), which is at least an admirable and brave gesture in the direction of trying to capture some sense of believability in cinema-land. The reactions of characters are a lot more true-to-life than in most movies.
And calling it a "whinge"? That's tantamount to saying you just can't possibly make historical films set in Ireland, because you couldn't in good faith not present the ill-treatment, poor living conditions, resentment etc.
Braveheart? What's that got to do with anything? It was made in Ireland... so?
All in all maybe it was jolly white of the proto-socialist Loach to come over to Ireland with his British team (writer, composer, editor, cameraman, designer etc etc) to do us Irish wogs the favour of revealing our past to his fellow countrymen.
And he did in such a 'creative' way that he joined up the dots for them in history lessons lazily strung together and regurgitated as dialogue. Yawn... yawn... yawn... it's not a denial of the history to say it's a shitty bit of film making.
We have cravenly tugged our forelocks to this piece of shite at cinemas and Extravisions (sic) throughout the land, thereby enriching Mr Loach and his financiers.
Come back soon Mr Loach, more power to your honour, and make another 'Irish' fillum. Faith and shure we've no one here at all of our own able to be doing that kind of thing.
Moan moan moan moan and a gobful of filth talk is all the Irish do.
Face facts. We want to reunite with the mainland and become part of the Graet Britain again don't yer? Get reunified. You're only having a migraine coz you are sublimating you're desire to meet me and fall in love, O Sweetest of culchies desiring re- the Union.
Who invited the "brits" here in the first place? An Irish fella 800 years ago. And what happened? Nothing for 400 years. Life went on the same, but the whingers have gotta say it was 800 years of opression. No. 400 in reality, as the brits became more diddlee dee than the real thing after a couple of generations. The son of one of the first "brits" - the second earl of Desmond - was writing poetry in Irish a generation later.
And they weren't even brits but Normans, who were vikings who'd been living in Northern France for only a few generations and became more Irish than the irish coz they was a rootless herd.
Things only got tough with Cromwell after the Desmond rebellion, and why did that start? The infighting Fitzgerald aristocrats doing a dermot mcmurrough and moaning to the titular head of state, the equivalent of Dermot Desmond
and Richard Desmond going head to head over 40,000 re-zoned acres of prime apartment block land in Moy Ross.
Did you listen to Pat Kenny having a wander round there the other week my darling. Can you talk doorty for me and send a snap with an appropriately crude caption?
Gosh. I hope you dont try and read your comments with your migraine still on, Lady.
Hang in there with the migraines, SL. I had my turn this past week. Are you on prescription stuff for them? The scrips they gave me for mine are a godsend. E-mail me if you're interested in all the dirty details and cheap tricks I use to avoid them.
And the thing about Cillian Murphy morphing in to Liz Taylor was fucking brilliant.
Ze migraine is gone, caloo, calay.
Jaysus, the poor Brits. Sure the only one of them I was having a go at was Ken Loach. And not for sticking his nose into our history, just coz The Wind That Shakes The Barley was utter fucking codswallop. Human reactions? Sure when poor Sinèad was getting her hair skelped off her head, the lads in the bushes/the cameraman spent their time gawking at the burning house. It's like they couldn't decide which thatch-loss was more tragic.
Did I tell you you were all mad. Fucking madpeople.
God, and I thought I was the only one who hated "Barley." What a load of slop. Came out of the cinema thinking 1. there's a difference between staging a whole bunch of improv and making a movie, but Mr. Loach obviously doesn't know it; and b. if he hadn't hit on a timely tie-in topic (hello, Iraq!), this thing never would've gotten off the ground. Mr. Delaney and Mr. Murphy were wasting their time-- though seeing Mr. Murphy take that full-face header whilst running to help someone was worth a chuckle (and no re-takes, thank you!). Been cheering myself up by thinking of it alternately as "The Wind That Shook Me, Barely" and "The Wind That Shook the Borat."
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