Thursday, April 30, 2009

The Apprentice, Episode 6



As my good friend, fellow cinephile and moral compass Luke pointed out, The Apprentice has become mandatory hangover watching on a Thursday morning. And this week, on recovering from a (not so) heavy night of boozing (I iz a lightweight) last night, today was no different!

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Episode 6
Philip has as sexy little tattoo on his left arm. We see it when he picks up the phone to be told that their next meeting point with Alan Sugar is in West London. They go to Chiswick Auction House, Hounslow, where Sir Alan tells them he's given both teams 10 objects. Their task is to find out the value of them and sell them by 6pm of the same day. But first, the teams are mixed a bit: Ignite take Kate, and Empire take Noorul. Philip is made Project Manager of Ignite, Ben Project Manager of Empire.

Some of the gems in the 10 objects are vintage black women's heels, and a lush Indian rug worth over £200+. There is also a first edition copy of Octopussy by Ian Fleming. Empire's PM, 22-year-old Ben Clarke, wastes no time bigging himself up, "I am a natural born leader." If you say so, mate. At Empire, meanwhile, Philip asks if he and Lorraine can put water under the bridge. "If I'm being a jerk, tell us so I can listen," he offers. Almost immediately, we see him getting fired up, as Lorraine is spending time pouring over rug catalogues, rightly believing their carpet to be one of the gems, but Philip gets irritated, thinking it's a dead end and a waste of time.

As one of the aspiring Apprentices point out, this is one of the more difficult challenges. It involves valuation of the objects, finding the market for the objects, locating the market, and finally, selling it to them. Philip thinks the skeleton is the most valuable object, and they go try a few places, unsuccessfully. At Ignite, Ben is getting agitated in a bookstore. The valuers need time in trying to estimate the books' value, and time is not something the team has. As they walk out, Ben curses darkly under his breath and Debra says matter-of-factly, "They're book people, they wanna waste your time."

Philip is more and more fixated on the skeleton, but Lorraine still hasn't lost hope on the rug, asking if she can make a phone call, only for her suggestion to be disregarded by Philip. Empire have found success at last, getting Octopussy sold for £100. The music from WALL·E plays.

Believing that they are targeting Med students, Philip, Mona and Lorraine wheel a skeleton into a bar near King's College Medical School, and luck should be a lady for them, because they find a bloke willing to part with £160 for it. Elsewhere, Kate flirts her way into selling a crappy self-help book for three quid, and they also get £35 for a signed poster of Frank Lampard (I want!). The jellied eels are less of a success, and they have to let them go for £30.

Meanwhile, we are repeatedly being told that the Indian rug is the most valuable object, so naturally, one just knows that both sides are going to sell it for tuppence. Philip, resolutely refusing to wise up to its worth, carries it through an East End market, and it looks like he and Mona are holding a dead body. Margaret, unable to contain her disdain, voices her disgust - "This is the most stupid activity they have engaged in."

Having rightly getting the skeleton valued at £150+, Ben and Noorul try to flog it to a cash-strapped (and conspicuously old looking) student for £60. Meanwhile, Yasmina and James are roaming the streets of North London trying to sell the rug, only to be told, "Don't waste your time in this area." We're given a hint of Philip's folly when Empire are told "It's a bit expensive for this store." Philip, by the way, is still not having any success with the carpet, and is now just trying to sell it passers by. Margaret mutters "I'm speechless." The display of incompetence in front of her obviously does not bode well for her soul.

There's also a little thing known as a toiletchair to sell. Ben's ponders if they'd make more money just selling it as a chair. "It's very unusual for three smartly dressed people to try and get me to buy a commode chair," admits the pawn shop owner. Ben opines whether they should just give someone cash to take the crapper (literally) off their hands.

Debra's starting to get pissed off by the fact that Yasmina and James only had three things to sell, whereas she, Noorul and Ben have seven. "She's just a bit destructive," mutters Yasmina darkly. Empire have five items still to sell. "Find some nutcase and sell them all to him for a quid," Ben says, of the shoes, which contains a pair worth £100+. Ben's huffing and puffing and not blowing an awful lot down, whilst Debra looks unimpressed and Noorul darts about in the background.

Ignite are still burdened with their rug, as are Empire. In the end, Empire are ripped off £55 for it, from a man who clearly knows that it's worth more than that. Ignite sell theirs to a man in the street for £50. After doing so, Lorraine feels even stronger than ever about the true worth of the rug, and Philip, suddenly realising his mistake, gets all defensive.

Back in the boardroom, Sir Alan Sugar makes the point that in this challenge, the devil is in the detail. Some things, he says, are not much to look at, but are worth quite a bit. Like himself. Ben complains that the task was too difficult and Philip is described as "totally professional" by his teammates, and Alan Sugar ribs him for his Tyne side pronunciation of the word "book" though Lorraine brings up the point that she wanted to dedicate more time on valuing the rug. Margaret notes that she's like the Cassandra of the Team - get it right and nobody notices. Sir Alan asks Philip why her suggestions were ignored, and the Geordie fumbles around giving an answer.

But it's the numbers that matter, and Ignite come out better, a loss of £34 compared to Empire's net loss of £169. Ignite didn't necessarily win, they just didn't lose as hard as Empire did. I'll concede that the teams only had a day to sell a lotta shit, but both teams weren't good at all. And hence, Ignite are sent on their way for an evening of truffle tasting, but not before Sir Alan tells ominously Philip "your mind is like concrete", suggesting, perhaps, for the sexy Englishman to be more open to other people's input in future. During the truffle tasting, btw, we catch glimpses of everyone kissing Lorraine's butt now that it turns out she was right alone. "No one deserves this more than Lorraine," Philip says cheerfully. He's changed his tune!

Back in the boardroom, Ben is resolute that he's going nowhere. Yasmina wonders where they went wrong. Sir Alan Sugar tells them: "Anyone with half a brain cell would have known to sit down and work out what everything was worth first," he barks. They've all miserably failed. Alan Sugar isn't impressed that they put more priority on getting everything sold rather than getting the gems sold for their true value. Debra complains (she's good at complaining) that Yasmina and James had only three objects in their van. "I sold more than they did put together," she asserts, but Nick isn't convinced, making the point that Ben deserves credit on quite a few of the sales. She challenges Nick arrogantly, which, needless to say, raises a lot of eyebrows. Debra wants credit for the sale of the James Bond book as she set up the meeting, but Nick is resolute that "it's closing the deal that matters," in which case, Ben did the talking. Debra's having none of it, snapping at Nick in a dangerously rude way, and Sir Alan is none too impressed.

Unable to put up with any more bickering, Sir Alan puts the question to Ben of who he's going to bring back into the boardroom with him. Ben talks and talks, finally picking Noorul, and James. No wait, he says, changing his mind, I'll have Debra instead. Debra is "well up for" a scrap with PM Ben in the boardroom, and I do think it is unfair for her to be bought back as, for bitchy as she is, she was very proactive on the task.

So, the three of them sit uncomfortably again in front of Sralan, Margaret and Nick. Ben claims "I have the potential to win this". Ben and Noorul argue. Ben gets extremely heated in debate, and Debra says simply, "You were a shoddy project manager." Ben accuses her of being corrosive. She bites back, "There's a difference between being corrosive and being honest, mate," though one just feels that they won't be "mates" for much longer. She makes the point that Ben burdened himself with way too many objects and I agree, I think Yasmina and James should have been give an extra object. Noorul can't make a very good case for himself and ends of just calling Ben volatile and arrogant, which, whilst true, does nothing to help his case. Ben snaps back, but Noorul keeps interrupting. 'Tis all very snarky and entertaining.

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Ben, pleading his case to Sir Alan, claims to be a "grafter" and a "good team leader", though the catty look on Debra's face tells otherwise. Noorul gets desperate and brings Ben's desire to be in a magazine shootout into it. Sralan says his bit. Firstly, he puts Debra in her place, before firing Noorul, deservedly. He was a terrible Apprentice, always hovering about in the background and sitting on the fence. There have been idiotic mistakes aplenty by many of the contestants on this show, but at least they did so in trying. Noorul didn't really ever try, just lingered about in the background, and was lucky to get this far.

Personally, I would have loved this task. There was just so much to it, and I would have gotten totally stuck in and out there. Though saying that, I'd probably have been even crapper than any of the contestants in practice.

By the way, next week is revision week and last night was my last night on the piss until exams end on 27th May. The reason I'm telling you this is not because I'm going on a hiatus, but that as I won't be being a drunken loon during evenings any more, my Apprentice reports should be up sooner to the actual broadcast of the show. But not next week's, I'm watching the football then.

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Soundtracks are a Godsend for learning languages.

I quit French over four years ago and what I do get of the language is from solely French cinema, but reading the tracklisting to the soundtracks can help too. In this case, I was looking at the tune names of Alexandre Desplat's score to Coco avant Chanel:

1. L’abandon / The Abandonment
2. Chez Chanel / At Chanel's Place
3. Coco & Boy
4. Royallieu
5. Couture / Sewing
6. Avenue du Bois / Wood(ed?) Avenue
7. Premier baiser / First (To) Kiss
8. Gabrielle Bonheur / Gabrielle Happiness
9. L’Hippodrome / The Hippodrome
10. Arthur Capel (
11. Confession de Balsan / Confession of Balsan
12. Coco reve de Paris / Coco Dream of Paris
13. L’Atelier (01:48)/ The Workshop
14. Un seul Amour / One Love
15. Le Chagrin de Coco / Coco's Sorrow
16. Casino de Deauville / Deauville's Casino
17. Little Black Baby (Scott Joplin) (01:37)
18. Qui qu’a vu Coco (Baumaine-Blondelet / Deransart) / Who's Seen Coco (

Bung!

Britain's Got Talent, Episode 3

I know, I know, it came on on Satuday, so I'm four days late. But this was the episode with the man with knives, so I couldn't not watch, now could I?

We begin in London, where 49-year-old Clare Morton comes on stage and says simply, "I'm here to sing a song." The backing track to Fame comes on and she begins "dancing" around the stage in a ridiculously bad fashion. Once she's due to start singing, things get even worse - she reads the first few lines off a piece of paper and not any of the lyrics are on tune. Needless to say, it's a no. Next is Lee the Trolley pusher, who thinks he can make an interesting act of trolleys. He doesn't. Then we have a girl on the German wheel. Piers buzzes, not overly impressed with her, but Simon challenges him, "I'll pay you £1000 to get into that wheel", which he does, but doesn't do anything. Piers Morgan bottles it, but then again so does Simon from giving him money, saying the idea was that Piers only got money if he spun.

We then go to Manchester, where last year's winner, George Samson, was found. "Actress, dancer and model" (bit kind an introduction, that) Kelly Brook joins the threesome of judges. After a poor start with four girls unsuccessfully trying to integrate baton twirling and jazz saxophone, we meet 10-year-old Holly. Kitted out in a pink tutu and looking very much like yer stereotypical wannabe-ballerina, she says "I'd love to dance in front of the queen because I've never met her before." When she started dancing, I wasn't bowled over, and, just as a bored Simon Cowell was about to press his buzzer, Holly opens her mouth and an amazing voice comes out, singing "I Could Have Danced All Night" from My Fair Lady. Amanda Holden mouths the words along, enraptured, and it's a resounding yes from all involved, including the audience. We then see a short montage of some of the other successful acts, ones I would have liked to have watched in more detail.

Next, we're introduced to DJ Talent, a bloke who works for an engineering company during the day, and shadows as a DJ during the night. His rapping/DJ-ing is... amateurish, to say the least, and I couldn't help but feel sorry for him, which is probably why he gets a yes; it couldn't be for his rhyming skills - rapping "Talent" with "Talent" is cheating.

After that is probably the most terrifying thing I've seen on pre-watershed TV (aside, perhaps, from Hilary Duff's attempts to act) - a man that balances himself on two knives and inserts a third one into his throat. OMG. It was terribly tense watching, especially as his arms were shaking and one just didn't feel entirely safe for him. When his body falls down into the knife, Piers chooses this exact moment to press his buzzer, which evokes screams from Amanda, and one wonders if he's injured himself. As a matter of fact, he's fine, but his act really isn't, and he's told to go on.

We move to a lighter note - The Synth Sisters, five 12-13 year old girls who've barely passed grade 1 piano and are trying to make an act out of their "skills." The keyboard playing was turd and their "synchronized" arm movements made it even more lol-tacular. Continuing with the unintended hilarity, is an ex-forklift driver, wannabe drag act. He claims he wants to show the world that he isn't like other drag acts that just mime the words, which is all very well, but his singing is atrocious. So, so bad, that he starts getting booed, and Simon Cowell comments, "Drag acts are supposed to look and sound like women, and you were neither." Piers and Kelly were entertained by the naffness and give him two yeses, but Amanda and Simon are having none of it.

Does anyone know why Kelly Brook was even introduced in the first place? I mean yeah, she did look very pretty, I'll give her that, but in having her on, the acts needed three yeses, so they needed a 75% success rate to get through as opposed to 66.666666666667%, which seems a bit o' a disadvantage to me.

Anyway, we go back to London for the last noteorthy act, which is Diversity from Essex. In them are three or four sets of brothers, as well as four lads that aren't related. As their name suggests, it's an ecclectic crew - University students, IT technicians, Secondary School kids, etc, but they are all uniformed by their love of dance. The music starts with a extract from Martin Luther King's I have a Dream speech, and the dance starts. And... WOW. It's awesome, a fusion of every type of dance out there - street, hip hop, rhythm, and everyone is so together and co-ordinates. It's better than the dances in Step Up 2, and that's saying something! Utterly, utterly transcendent, with even a slow bit parodying the Chariots of Fire scene. And thus, we are ended on a high for another episode of Britain's Got Talent.

Monday, April 27, 2009

Film review: THE DIARY OF A CHAMBERMAID (Luis Buñuel, 1964)

"She's more than just a servant, she's a rarity among women" is noted of Jeanne Moreau's Céléstine, a Parisian maid who comes to work for the eccentric Normandy family conprising of Monsieur Rabour, his daughter Madame Monteil and her husband Monsieur Rabour. 

She soon discovers the traits of each family member, from Monsieur Rabour's predilection for women in boots (and seeing them walk in said boots), to Monsier Monteil's womanizing with the maids, resulting from his wife finding sex too painful, and thus not enjoying it.

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I'm halfway through my Luis Buñuel marathon and so far, not one of his films haven't revolved around, or at least had as an integral factor of it, sex. Le journal d'une femme de chambre is no different. Adapted from Jean Renoir's 1946 version, Buñuel and long time writing partner Jean-Claude Carrière clearly have a great time writing the dialogue for this film. 

Monsieur Rabour, in trying to deny his feelings of attractions for Céléstine, reasons more himself, than his wife, "She's from Paris. Who knows what diseases she has?". Ironically, when he later throws himself at her, she gets out of sleeping him by dodging him and exclaiming "I've got symphilis!". It's this combination of crude sex jokes and laugh-out-loud visual comedy (including a clumsy priest trying to kick a door down) that really brings out the humour as well as sexual politics in 30s French society.

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However, Le journal d'une femme de chambre isn't principally a comedy. It's rather difficult to pinpoint exactly what genre it is, for, half way through the film, after 45 or so minutes of amusing vignettes, things turn sour when, just after she has quit her job due to the master of the house dying, it is revealed that someone else has died - Little Claire, the girl that Céléstine grew to care for. And not only that, she was raped and murdered. 

Céléstine, suspecting her fellow servant Joseph, an unrefined and fascist so-and-so of being the perpetrator, regains her post and seduces him in an attempt to get a confession out of him. And, once again, we re-enter a world where, as with Belle de jour and That Obscure Object of Affection, women must rely on their "other gifts" to get through in life.

As Céléstine Jeanne Moreau is a revelation. She was 36 when the film was made and, despite her skin looking a bit craggy, she is still very beautiful, her brunette hair tidy and stylish and her wide eyes watching carefully as she enters the microcosm of the French bourgeoisie, taking everything in unflinchingly. She's a strong, brave lady who believes that the ends justifies the means and isn't afraid to stick up for herself, no matter what the class/gender/wealth of the person who challenges her, and Moreau embodies the brave, ahead of her time character of Céléstine perfectly. 

As is now standard of Mr. Buñuel's films, the women come out a lot better than the men do - the man on the house, out of frustation of "only" being able to shag his supposedly frigid wife twice a week, fooled about with one of his ex-maids, and as such, had to pay her off 1500 Francs once she's knocked up. 

Céléstine refuses to give it up quite as easily.

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Four out of the eight Luis Buñuel DVDs watched, and I'm still yet to find a stinker. Le journal d'une femme de chambre is far, far away from being a stinker - it's a deliciously witty attack on Western society that is as post-modern as it gets, and centres around one of the sassiest and most intriguing women in cinema. An absolute must.

8.5/10

Sunday, April 26, 2009

8 Days of Buñuel, Day 3: That Obscure Object of Desire (Luis Buñuel, 1977)



That Obscure Object of Desire is a film about shagging. In it, aging wealthy man Mathieu (Fernando  Rey) has his eye turned by Conchita, his young, inexperienced maid. He tries to kiss her one night, and the next day, she's gone. Three months later, post-random hold-up, he sees her again and is again, besotted, plying her with cakes, coffee, frequent visits and sweet nothings. She in return gives him a coy kiss now and then, but resolutely refuses to give him what it is he wants the most: a good lay.

Hence, the film, wherein he tells the people in his train cabin about his long and treacherous blue-balled time with her, is a journey of the sexual politics between rich older man and poor young woman, who has to survive on her sexual prowess. In doing so, she's conniving, cold, mercenary, mean, and a massive cocktease, but, as demonstrated by the closing scenes, perhaps she was right to act like a complete cow.

Two different actresses play Conchita, one for the day and one for the night (drawing subconcious links with yesterday's title, Belle de jour, perhaps), and such is Mathieu's physical longing for Conchita that it is interesting that there are two women playing her, implying, perhaps, that he is so enamored that he doesn't even realise what's going on right in front of him. 

I thought the observations of the film were absolutely amazing, way ahead of their time; despite being made over 30 years ago, this film knows so much about men, women and our carnal desires. On Conchita refusing to lose her virginity, stating that he'd no longer love/respect her if she gave it up, Mathieu purrs suggestively "there are ways to pleasure a man without having sex", but Conchita, looking disgusted at the request, turns around and ignores him, without giving him so much as a handjob. 

My kinda girl, and my kinda movie. Boom.

9/10

Saturday, April 25, 2009

8 Days of Buñuel, Day 2: Belle de jour (Luis Buñuel, 1967)

Séverine Serizy is a beautiful and elegant French housewife, married to esteemed doctor, but suffers from both sexually frigidity and frustration, the two sleeping in different beds and, after a year of marriage, Séverine still a virgin. One day, she hears about the local brothels and after a hesitant start, she takes up a job working as a prostitute there, under the alias of Belle de jour.

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The Typical Overactor in a Buñuel Movie here is Pierre Clémenti as Marcel, a young spy who becomes besotted with Séverine leading to terrible consequences. Even though he's stunning to look at in a dirty sort of way, the scene in which he confronts Séverine contained some of the most camp acting I've seen, especially when he "span around in anger." Ho ho ho. However, this performer is probably my only serious foible with Belle de jour, which is otherwise an ethereal, sexy masterpiece. Catherine Deneuve is the epitome of icy fragility; kitted out in designer labels and haute couture, there is still a wild longing in her eyes, one that she cannot convey to her peers, and becomes unleashed only in the bedroom. From the very first scene, where husband and wife trot down a pathway led by two men on a horse and cart, only for the husband to command the two drivers to tie the wife up and rape her, we realise that Séverine dreams of sexual encounters wild and bizarre, yet cannot act them out. Here is a woman who has rape fantasies, yet can't even force herself to touch her husband. Dodgy, but her stint in the high-class brothel soon helps her act out her fantasies and release her inner inhibitions. And in every one of her (mis)adventures, Deneuve's perfect face is the mask of nuance and subtlety.

The blur between fantasy and reality is forever prevalent throughout the film, so much so that the various flashbacks to Séverine's childhood, random short episodic scenes make one question what is real and what is fiction. The ending remains a mystery but I have my own theories about it, and here is a film that says more about human desires and female repression than anything I see in the women's mags of today. Good work.

PS. I have a rather beautiful Belle je jour postcard that came free with the DVD, and I'm feeling kind so if anyone wants it, e-mail me your address and I'll post it to you. :)