I'm just a soul whose intentions are good…

As part of Culture Snob’s blogathon on Misunderstood Movies, I thought I’d give my thoughts on three-time Razzie nominee Mr. Deeds, the film that was actually my number 1 movie of all time before I saw The Shawshank Redemption on my 14th birthday. I don’t love it as much as I did then, but it is a film that I hold very fondly in my heart, and feel has been extremely misunderstood.

Firstly, yes, it’s a remake of the Frank Capra 1936 classic, with Adam Sandler stepping into Gary Cooper’s shoes, and yes, Sandler is not exactly an ideal imitation of Gary Cooper. But I genuinely feel that Mr. Deeds borrows the storyline and the storyline only from Capra’s ’36 version, like the British soap "Hollyoaks", Mr. Deeds *knows* how ruddy awful it is, and doesn’t have aspirations of anything better. So it should be enjoyed as that, and not judged by the predecessor. If anything, the producers ought to be hailed for being brave enough to remake such a cherished classic! Furthermore, I get the vibe that lots of critics just groaned at the prospect of “another Adam Sandler movie”, when there really is no such thing. Except maybe Anger Management.

Despite its aspirations of mediocrity, it delivers as promised on most levels, as well as managing to reach moments of comedic genius. Mr. Deeds exploits fully the sort of gags and humour Sandler's previous films have called on with success (Buscemi and Tutorro are both here again in wonderful supporting roles), while adding new, unforgettable moments, such as the hilarious sliding down stairs sequence.



Furthermore, the central character of Mr. Deeds is actually a pretty decent guy. With an endearing character the audience can actually root for, what this movie does is milk the comic elements of Sandler’s acting range, whilst subtly giving us all a lesson on morality, and the ever-lasting message that money isn’t everything. Like Mr. Deeds and Winona Ryder’s character, we come to learn this through the movie. Adam Sandler, who surprised critics with his other 2002 effort, Punch-Drunk Love, is not so superlative here as he is in Paul Thomas Anderson’s masterpiece, but his performance certainly is good, I feel.

So, I urge everyone who originally hated Mr. Deeds to check it out again. It is admittedly slushy, it is admittedly cringey, but it’s definitely misunderstood.

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Up to No Good.

I seem to be in a world of my own nowadays. So caught up I was in the world of school (my exams begin next week, I’ll come back to this later) and violin & guitar practice (and, let’s not be coy about this, watching TV), that I was an entire fortnight late in buying the June issue of Empire! Anyway, I finally got round to buying it, I opened the “Do not open, rated 18” section, and all I can say is… I’m shocked.

Empire (which, by the way, is the UK’s best film magazine, here’s their website), is a magazine which I have the same sort of relationship with that I have with the UK broadsheet The Guardian. On a good day, I marvel at their good writings and often find myself nodding in agreement with the canny things that they say. However, as with The Guardian (and most of all, their bitch in chief, Marina Hyde, a snooty little Madam with no knowledge whatsoever of the topics which she writes, yet prattles away with her Oxbridge-taught fancy words and very little substance), I also can find Empire often in my bad books. Their glory hunteresque, conformist behaviour in awarding 5-stars to the likes of Lost in Translation, Lord of the Rings and United 93 leaves a lot to be desired, and some of their DVD reviews are rather scrappy too. Still, they did write one of the best reviews of all time in their superlative appraisal of my beloved Shawshank, and anyone who does that will remain in my favour despite all other shortcomings.

Anyway, Empire were celebrating their 18th birthday, and doing so through showing some shocking moments in 18-rated films. Most of them, I had actually seen before, but the see the images as a screenshot, followed by the critics discussing them in a matter-of-fact tone, but extremely disturbing.

So, just like Empire, I thought I’d try and list 18 of my favourite 18-rated films. None of which, of course, I’m legally allowed to see.

For non-Brits, 18 is the highest rating passed for films released in cinemas (there are also films rated R18, but they are only sold in Sex shops… 'nuff said.) In an 18-rated films, you may swear pretty much in any way you like, have very, very violent moments and strong sex scenes. Examples of 18-rated films are Reservoir Dogs, The Shining, OldBoy, Clerks and Do the Right Thing.

So, without further, my top 18 favourite 18-rated films
01. American Beauty

The only 18-rated film to grace my personal top 20, this masterpiece came out in 1999, along with many other of my favourites – Not one Less, The Road Home, The Green Mile and All About my Mother, making the pre-millennial year one of the most memorable in cinema. Alan Ball’s searing script encompassed such life-defining themes such as male empowerment and personal fulfilment, set to a sexy backdrop of a mature Lolita story, and featuring some once-in-a-lifetime performances from the untouchable Annette Bening and Thora Birch. Sadly, I didn’t care for Spacey’s performance at all (I’m really not a fan), but American Beauty is so incredibly deep and satisfying in all other aspects. And it would kick Fight Club’s arse in a fight.

02. The Conformist

The favourite of two of my best buddies, Bernardo Bertolucci’s multi-layered story of sex and politics sees a Facist agitator on a mission to kill his mentor, whilst his own wife is being preyed upon by his mentor’s socialist spouse. Who happens to be a former flame. Actually not as confusing as it sounds, and absolutely capital filmmaking, featuring stunning cinematography from Apocalypse Now’s Vittorio Storaro, that evokes the lush atmosphere of 1930s Europe through fantastic usage of camera angles and lighting (see below images.) Acting is top-notch, especially the hypnotic Dominique Sanda, who is by turns sultry, sexy, but oh so dangerous.

03. Woman of the Dunes
Adapted from the ascinating novel by Kobo Abe (whose Kafkian influences led him to write several other good books), Woman of the Dunes is like nothing I have ever seen before. The director completely understands the writer, and together, they have made one of the most original and haunting films of the 60s – appropriately, the tagline readings: “Haunting. Erotic. Unforgettable.” The cinematography is eye-openingly beautiful, and the erotically charged chemistry between the two leads suits the film perfectly. I shan’t say any more at then risk of spoiling it, except that this movie has actually been re-rated 15 so perhaps I am cheating a little, but go see it!

04. The Green Mile
Now everyone knew that Frank Darabont’s second Stephen King-influenced prison movie was always going to suffer from living in the shadow of Shawshank, but this sweet darling of a movie is not without its merits. Michael Clarke Duncan stood out for me, which, similar to the Tim Robbins-in-Mystic Riveresque turn, perfectly captures how someone so Crouchingly tall can fee so small. Duncan’s scenes alongside Hanks are the emotional core to The Green Mile, and it is their bond which adds to the movie’s resonance (and caused me to cry my eyes out.) Thomas Newman’s score was underrated in favour of his snazzy marimba-led work in American Beauty, but it is definitely worthy of a mention. But the true star of the show is Frank Darabont, whose direction is as careful, studied and measured as the classic filmmakers.

05. Belle de Jour
Subtitled a little presumptuously by me as “the sexiest film ever, after Brokeback Mountain”, Catherine Deneuve is the original desperate housewife in Luis Buñuel’s surreal take on repressed desire and the bourgeoisie. The director stays detached from the proceedings, passing no judgement and coolly reserved, whilst we also get lovely colour cinematography and costumes by Yves Saint-Laurent. It’s very nice.

06. The Good, the Bad and the Ugly
07. Persona
08. Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?
09. Tampopo
10. The Wild Angels
11. Kill Bill
12. Magnolia
13. Face/Off
14. Badlands
15. The Departed
16. Das Experiment
17. Dead Man’s Shoes
18. Se7en

Least Favourite 18-rated movies
01. Blue Velvet
02. Requiem for a Dream
03. A Clockwork Orange
04. Fight Club


I’m also writing to tell you that over the next month and a half, there will be about 3 or 4 blog posts in total. This is due to the abomination that are AS-level exams, which I will have to work my socks off in, as they are a huge factor in deciding which Uni I’ll get into. My first exam is the dreaded Physics practical next Wednesday, which will be a laugh and a half, as I still don’t actually know how to set up a circuit. Zummer.

Yeah, so anyway, that’s that. If you ever become truly desperate and miss me, you know where my old posts are. See me as I was. And of course, I’ll be checking my e-mails.

Finally, I’ve come up with my list of top 5 Mika songs, with their corresponding images –
01. Lollipop
02. Happy Ending

03. Grace Kelly
04. Love Today
05. Billy Brown

So…. Wish me luck, my dears, and I’ll be back soon!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

She. (Beautiful Actresses Under 30 to the Setting of Elvis Costello.)

So, it struck me that on this blog, I'm forever dedicating too much time and referencing to my "loverboys", Leo, Jakey, Mr. McAvoy, Gael, etc. I never seem to consider the desires of the male readers of this blog. So, think about the prettiest actresses under 30, I came up with:

She might be the face you can't forget

The trace of pleasure or regret

May be the treasure or the price I have to pay

She may be the sun on summer sets

May be the chill in autumn breeze

May be a hundred different things

Within the measure of the day.

Don't read futher if you visit the blog soley for your fix of films.


Aside from that, there's not much to be happy about.

Manchester Utd win the Premiership over the much worthy Chelsea. I feel like likening this to Crash winning over Brokeback Mountain, but the case isn't that severe. I mean, Utd at least have good players like Paul Scholes and Van Der Sar and, er.... well, they have Scholes and Van der Sar. What does Crash have?

*scratches head.*

Anyway, I feel sorry for Chelsea. Just look at the boys here, trying to hide their disappointment.


I refuse to whine too much, however, and I will accentuate the positives. Chelsea's season, the highlights-














Well, Chelsea, it was certainly fun whilst it lasted for ya.
http://i148.photobucket.com/albums/s1/StudyZummer/316730706.jpg

Other "Ughs"
Ugh, Physics practical in just over a weeks time.

Ugh, my glasses are dirty.

Ugh, I feel fat.

Mad, Bad, and Dangerous to Know.

Favourite cinematic bad boys;
Stanley Kowalski. Streetcar.
Jim Stark. Rebel Without a Cause.
Jim Carroll. The Basketball Diaries.

The writer for you today is John Keats. Here's my favourite poem of his:

MY heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:
'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, 5
But being too happy in thine happiness,
That thou, light-wingèd Dryad of the trees,
In some melodious plot
Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,
Singest of summer in full-throated ease. 10

O for a draught of vintage! that hath been
Cool'd a long age in the deep-delvèd earth,
Tasting of Flora and the country-green,
Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth!
O for a beaker full of the warm South! 15
Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,
With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,
And purple-stainèd mouth;
That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,
And with thee fade away into the forest dim: 20

Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget
What thou among the leaves hast never known,
The weariness, the fever, and the fret
Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;
Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last grey hairs, 25
Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;
Where but to think is to be full of sorrow
And leaden-eyed despairs;
Where beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,
Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow. 30

Away! away! for I will fly to thee,
Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,
But on the viewless wings of Poesy,
Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:
Already with thee! tender is the night, 35
And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,
Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays
But here there is no light,
Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown
Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways. 40

I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,
Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,
But, in embalmèd darkness, guess each sweet
Wherewith the seasonable month endows
The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild; 45
White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;
Fast-fading violets cover'd up in leaves;
And mid-May's eldest child,
The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,
The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves. 50

Darkling I listen; and, for many a time
I have been half in love with easeful Death,
Call'd him soft names in many a musèd rhyme,
To take into the air my quiet breath;
Now more than ever seems it rich to die, 55
To cease upon the midnight with no pain,
While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad
In such an ecstasy!
Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain—
To thy high requiem become a sod. 60

Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!
No hungry generations tread thee down;
The voice I hear this passing night was heard
In ancient days by emperor and clown:
Perhaps the self-same song that found a path 65
Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,
She stood in tears amid the alien corn;
The same that ofttimes hath
Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam
Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn. 70

Forlorn! the very word is like a bell
To toll me back from thee to my sole self!
Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well
As she is famed to do, deceiving elf.
Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades 75
Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep
In the next valley-glades:
Was it a vision, or a waking dream?
Fled is that music:—do I wake or sleep? 80


Rather pretty, no?