Diaryer

Shepherd’s Bush Empire, London, 31/03/11

It’s easy to feel a tad disengaged when you’re sat so far from the action, as we were at the Shepherd’s Bush Empire to see Deerhunter. Lower Dens struggled to make an impact with their poppy shoegaze, but Deerhunter had no problems with a fully fledged set of noisy indie-rock. The band are at their best when wigging out, which fortunately, is something they do with regularity. Creating huge washes of sound, stretching songs out into sustained drone pieces or wiggly kraut workouts, Deerhunter provide atmosphere in abundance; a beautiful noise to be lost in.

Lyric Theatre, London, 28/03/11

Music and comedy. Combined. Not a concept that would ever be likely to thrill me. However, the promise of Alex Horne, Harry Hill and Tim Key on one bill was more than enough temptation. A two-part show with a five-piece band and six acts including a plate spinner and a beatboxer, hosted by the impossible-not-to-love Horne, provided a kind of modern day variety show. Horne and Key both have a way about them that, whilst not always belly-laugh funny, is a joy to watch. Harry Hill was completely absurd, careering around the stage, being as odd as you’d imagine. Some of his jokes were truly awful, but when he makes you laugh, he REALLY makes you laugh. I never thought I’d enjoy a variety show, but tonight I did.

Haymarket Cineworld, London, 29/03/11

Following last week’s showing of Don’t Look Now, Time Out chose to show Terry Gilliam’s Brazil preceded by an interview with the film’s star, Jonathon Pryce, who provided amusing and fascinating insight into director Terry Gilliam and co-star Robert De Niro’s methods. Visually, Brazil provides so many delights, it’s a feast for the eyes. There’s always something happening somewhere to make you laugh, wonder or marvel. Its comedic moments are plenty and whilst some action sequences outstay their welcome slightly, Brazil remains a British film up with there with the very best.

Haymarket Cineworld, London, 22/03/11

Time Out began a season of great British films preceded by interviews with various people from the industry with a showing of Don’t Look Now. I’d seen the film before, although not for a while, and the chance to see it on the big screen was one not to be missed. David Morrissey introduced it, placing it well in context and giving a few decent pointers of things to look out for. As a film, its power is immense. The way it frightens is awesome and the opening scene is simply stunning. It shares that great depth of colour and its grainy feel with other great 70s horror flicks like The Omen and The Exorcist. Sutherland and Christie are excellent and whilst the story is a little bit on the hammy side, the acting, tension and creepiness of it all is awesome.

The Emirates, Premier League, 05/03/11

With 87 minutes gone, there’s something wrong if you’re still yelling “WAKE UUUPPP!!” at your team. But that’s what happened on Saturday.

Arsenal never really turned up. Chances were few, Sunderland contained, defended well and, courtesy of a couple of fine saves from Mignolet, kept any inroads at bay with relative comfort. Diaby and Denilson were two players symptomatic of this malaise. Strolling through the game, barely conscious, with no forward drive, these two midfield titans had all the presence of a pair of daisies in a gale. Replacing Fabregas and Song with these two is akin to replacing Royal Shakespeare actors with the cast of Grange Hill. And with Bendtner disinterested, Arshavin struggling for form, a referee blind to a clear shove in the penalty area and a match-changing, incorrect off-side decision against us, this was a performance not to dwell on.

Wembley Stadium, Carling Cup Final, 27/02/11

After 90 minutes of stout, faultless defending against the ultimate long ball merchants on Wednesday, this. Undone twice by a 6’ 8” striker and two monumental defensive errors. We weren’t at our best; possession was surrendered too easily, in both halves we visibly tired after bright starts, our finishing wasn’t clinical enough (we had enough chances to win the game and should’ve put the game to bed during a prolonged spell of second half pressure), too many individual performances were lacking and substitutions were mystifying. But none of this could’ve prepared us for 1^st half flap by Sczezny allowing Zigic to head home and an appalling lack of communication between the keeper and Koscielny to let Martins tap in with 2 minutes remaining. All of which meant that Van Persie’s superb volleyed goal from an Arshavin chip will be forgotten. Much like I want this whole day to be.

The Emirates, Premier League, 23/02/11

For the first meeting of Arsenal and Stoke City since Ryan Shawcross snapped Aaron Ramsey’s leg in two a year ago, talk was of the man and his hated team entering a ‘cauldron of hate’. What he got was more like a le creuset of indifference. An insipid atmosphere, truly a post-Barcelona comedown. The football on show could not have been more different either.

Now, there are many different ways of playing football. Arsenal’s game is based on pace, movement and skill. Stoke’s is based on organisation, discipline, physicality and either kicking or throwing the ball very far and very high. And to be fair to them, they are bloody good at it. So good, in fact, that they make the game barely resemble football as I know and love it. How their fans put up with such tedious, unambitious tactics is beyond me. Their lives must be severely lacking. Stoke’s constant pressing in numbers meant that we only found a way through once, Squillaci scoring from a close range header. And defensively, we dealt with everything they threw (literally) at us with ease. A vital, hard fought but ultimately BORING 3 points.

Cadogan Hall, London, 22/02/11

The plush surroundings and empty seats of Cadogan Hall really didn’t work for Y Niwl. Their stompin’ instrumental surf rock was unsuited to such a venue; the grandiosity of the place subdued the band.

Of course, it was packed by the time Gruff Rhys arrived, put on a record of some birdsong and began playing his keyboard. Joined by Y Niwl and 9Bach’s Lisa Jen, the show was punctured with moments of silliness and sweetness. However, these were scattered across an evening littered with less memorable tunes that erred towards the bland. I feel like I’m committing sacrilege to say this, but there wasn’t enough here to justify a show of this length. 

The true story of a man paralysed to the extent his only form of communication comes through blinking is bound to be one that tugs at the heartstrings. The Diving Bell And The Butterfly is an extraordinary tale that documents Jean-Dominique Bauby’s attempts to write his biography using his blinking technique. It’s an easy, involving watch, involving watch, featuring a show-stealing performance from Max von Sydow as Jean’s father. You can feel Bauby’s frustration and the expected inspiring, happy ending never really arrives, which is something of a relief. 

A Secret Location, 7th February 2011

My first visit to a supper club was not what I expected. I imagined being thrown amongst a throng of uptight foodies, eager to impress with their knowledge. Instead, we had dinner with one other couple in a family home. It was polite, comfortable, friendly and funny. Annie’s Supper Club is the only gluten free supper club in London and her 10 course taster menu was a delight. Palmiers, beetroot and stilton soup, a beautiful king scallop, lamb with a lovely, subtle port and chocolate sauce, a cheeseboard, celeriac-stuffed ravioli, lemon and champagne sorbets, a chocolate mousse and coffee with homemade chocolates provided varied, surprising and always scrumptious filling. If I had to plump for a favourite it would be the gorgeous mousse, closely followed by the scallop. A treasure of an evening.

The King’s Head, Crouch End, London, 8th February 2011

Big of voice and big on fun, Nick Helm is the kind of comedian who scares the hell out of people sat in the front row. But in a nice way. Kinda. His comedy is raucous, silly and rattles along at a pace. With songs belted out, audience engagement (unluckily for some) and a hefty dose of shouting, Helm is an energetic, sweaty performer. Even the hardest of hearts would find a tough not to have a good time in his presence.

In the back room of a pub, OperaUpClose perform Cinderella as we know it, but set in the modern age. A chariot is replaced by a Boris bike, the ugly stepsisters with ugly slappers. You get the idea. Whilst not entirely captivating, the show was good fun throughout. However, Cinderella will be remembered not only by the paying audience but by patrons of the pub also, who were treated to an unannounced fight scene which took place in the pub, as regulars drank on. Surreal and sublime.

The Emirates, Premier League, 1st Feburary 2011

Either referee Lee Mason is a bad referee or he craves attention, which makes him a bad referee. He’s a bad referee. Ignoring a clear off-side to award Everton a goal, not sending Distin off for what should have been an obvious second yellow card and continually awarding mystifying decisions throughout, he dominated the game. Hopefully, the next game he’ll be dominating will be in a lower division.

I’d like to say that Everton, who were organised and disciplined with Fellaini dominating the midfield and Saha looking dangerous up front, didn’t deserve to lose. But their play was so cynical, with so many niggly fouls (and of course that undeserved 1st goal), that they did. Our game was sloppy with no one accounting well for themselves in the first 45. The three substitutes - Diaby, Arshavin and Bendtner, changed things. Arshavin took advantage of a fortuitous deflection to score an equalizer and Koscielny won the 3 points with a header from a corner. This was a game we’d have lost last season and one that should give us great encouragement going into the business end of the season.

The Hen & Chickens, London, 22nd January 2011

Whilst not outstanding, Andrew Doyle was a likable presence and had a few choice gags worth a titter. Nothing above the ordinary though really.

Scott Capurro, however, was extraordinary. His set was about the death of his mother. Not much room for comedy there, you’d think. And you’d be right. There were great, long sections where no jokes were told. It was just a man talking about his dead mother. Unbelievably awkward. Weird. Was it comedy? In terms of laughs, Capurro’s main comedic weapon of choice was shock. Most often in the form of jokes about how many men he’d fucked, how many men he’d like to fuck and ways that he would like to fuck and be fucked by many, many men. Shocking to the average Daily Mail reader, perhaps. Race and religion weren’t spared either. In fact, one joke (when referencing the recent murder of Joanne Yeates, he quipped “black people go missing all the time too, mainly because you can’t see them at night”) was full-on, Bernard Manning-style, actual racism. This was comedy of the absolute lowest order. 

The Emirates, Premier League, 22nd January 2011

I’ve never laughed at an Arsenal player missing a penalty before. But at 2-0 up, against a lifeless, 10-man Wigan, when Van Persie blasted his penalty skywards, so little was the opposing threat that a laugh was quite appropriate. Van Persie went on to complete his hat trick minutes later, topping a stunning day’s work, a true return to full fitness and form for the man. Outstanding goalkeeping from Wigan’s Al Habsi and some less than clinical finishing from ourselves stopped this being a rout.

This is an animated feature that, boiled down, is about a boy and his father’s difficult attempts and eventual success in communicating with each other. Sounds mawkish, worth avoiding. But Cloudy With A Chance Of Meatballs avoids all possible pitfalls with huge helpings of surrealism, non-stop bonkers action and jokes that appeal to both young and old. Loads of laugh out loud moments and set-ups that have you rubbing your eyes in disbelief. Brilliant.

Let The Right One In is a downbeat Swedish about vampires with the major protagonists two children aged under 12. That would normally be enough to turn me off. But this film’s bleakness, quality, believable and subtly played main parts, the downplaying of any flying children type stuff and it’s resemblance to Carrie was enough to have me gripped and grossed out on more than one occasion.

The Emirates, Premier League, 5th January 2011

Without two of their most potent attacking players, Manchester City were only ever going to park the bus at The Emirates. But the extent to their lack of ambition could not have been predicted. In a 90 minute period which featured a lot of wasted time from the visitors, they managed zero shots on target. This from one of the most expensively assembled teams ever and one, don’t forget, chasing the league title. Arsenal initially battered them. But failing to capitalise on a number of early chances led to City relaxing into their ultra-defensive stride. I could barely fault Arsenal on this performance, but Manchester City did nothing to impress me whatsover.