When Film Posters Lie: Crimes Against Billing Orders.

Today, I watched The Place Beyond the Pines, Derek Cianfrance's ambitious morality tale of how an encounter between bank robber (Ryan Gosling) and rookie cop (Bradley Cooper) affects their lives long after the meeting. I wasn't exactly sold on it; the three acts in the movie deteriorated monotonically, with the most gripping set pieces all being at the start of the film. The final act of the film focuses on the interaction between the two characters' sons, and the scenes between Emory Cohen and Dane DeHaan felt like a blasted mumbling contest.

Overall, I was mightily disappointed with The Place Beyond the Pines; there were some good elements: Bradley Cooper was as nuanced and as convincing as I've seen him (I usually can't take him seriously because he's appeared in some godawful Jennifer Lawrence collaborations and both of them bring out the worst in each other, especially when David O. Russell is involved), and the scenes between Ben Mendelsohn and Gosling were nicely done. Based on their chemistry together, I can see why Ryan Gosling chose to cast the Australian in his own movie, Lost River, 2 years later. You even get a tiny glimpse of Mendelsohn's terribad dancing, one of the few redeeming features of Lost River, in this movie.

But another gripe that I had with The Place Beyond the Pines that was no real fault of the filmmakers themselves was the sheer inaccuracy of the billing of Ray Liotta in the film poster. The way Liotta is credited here gives the (misleading) impression that he's the fourth main character in the film. He ain't. Gosling and Cooper are the co-leads, then Eva Mendes, then Dane DeHaan and then Emory Cohen. Ben Mendelsohn features in the first and third acts, so he would take sixth precedence. Being generous (and it would be being very generous), Ray Liotta is the seventh main character in the film. At best.

I mean, don't get me wrong, I can see why they did it. Although DeHaan and Emory Cohen are now gaining status and their acting technique has definitely improved (Cohen put his mumbling Brando impression to far better use as an adorable suitor of Saoirse Ronan in 2015's Brooklyn and you know he was good because I don't even begrudge him stealing Domhnall Gleeson's thunder), they weren't that well known in 2013, when the film was released. Whereas Ray Liotta is properly famous, not least for his iconic performance as Henry Hill in Goodfellas. So they were riding on the fame of his name. Fair enough, given the calibre the star they had on their castlist (Liotta's combination of charisma, screen presence and intense-eyed gaze renders him one of my favourite actors).

An even more brazen case of erroneous billing of an actor immortalised by a Martin Scorsese picture would be the combination of the name order and the appearance of a photo of Jonah Hill in the Hail, Caesar! poster. The fact that he's one of the five pictured could let you think he's one of the five main characters. He ain't. His role in Hail, Caesar! is genuinely that of a cameo, lasting less than a minute. As a huge Jonah Hill fan who's two main draws to this picture were the Coen brothers and him, I felt mightily short-changed.

As with Emory Cohen and Dane DeHaan getting trampled over in the Place Beyond the Pines poster, the biggest loser here is Alden Ehrenreich, who stole the show in Hail, Caesar! and if there were any justice in the world, would be in the running for a Best Supporting Actor nomination for what was a warm performance as a rodeo-come-actor who struggles with his lines of on point comic timing. Ehrenreich's role was the size that I had thought Jonah would be getting. Boy was I wrong about that, but it seems bizarre that the best thing about the film doesn't even get his picture on the poster.

Obviously, worse things have happened, and the world will keep spinning. And I can't begrudge Hollywood studios for trotting out their big names ahead of the lesser-known chaps, even if they had more prominence in the film. Money does talk, after all. And in both Ray Liotta and Jonah Hill's case, they succeeded at tricking me. By misrepresenting the magnitude of the actors' screen time in their respective movies on the film posters, the films' distributors lured me into watching the film under false pretences. I'm just too much of a Marty Scorsese fangirl for my own good, goddamnit!

But I'm not in the mood to be fooled for a third time this year by film posters. All I'm saying is, if Jonah Hill isn't actually the lead when I see War Dogs, I won't be best pleased.

Hottest Footballers in Euro 2016.

According to my more-than-a-little dubious definition of male beauty, of course.

 10. Aaron Ramsey (Wales) 

I simply can't use a recent picture because that peroxide blonde job doesn't do him any favours. I prefer his hair colour when it's natural.

09. Kyle Lafferty (Northern Ireland)

I don't usually like tats on a chap, but I'll make an exception for Kyle.

08. Matts Hummels (Germany) 

hello, sailor

07. Cesc Fàbregas (Spain) 

I never admitted to finding him Cescy when he played for Arsenal or Rob Brown's team, funny, that.

06. Jan Vertonghen (Belgium)

In the premier league, he's one of the slyest bellends around. But something about his face resembles that of Nick from Zootropolis. Which I mean as a compliment, of course.

05. Vedran Corluka (Croatia)  

I could just get lost in his eyes. And he's willing to play on with a face full of blood, too. Hero.

04. Hugo Lloris (France) 

The finest beard in football since Jamie Redknapp. And I adore his Gallic charm.

03. Eden Hazard (Belgium) 

Belgium's captain has the 100th juiciest bum in the world as ranked by The Guardian. A health hazard, if you will.

02. Antoine Griezmann (France) 

Dat face is a freaking work of art. Jean-Pierre Léaud's character in Les 400 coups is now no longer my favourite Antoine.

01. Gary Cahill (England) 

Sun's out, gun's out, mofos.

TV Review: ORANGE IS THE NEW BLACK season 4

Ever since its inception, Orange is the New Black has been one of Netflix's USPs. Very loosely based around Piper Kerman's memoirs of her experience in jail, with Taylor Schilling playing the televised version of her character, 'Piper Chapman', the show has never failed to entertain, shock, amuse and trouble viewers. Season 3 was considered by some critics to be a slight misstep, but even so, the stakes were high for season 4, which, thanks to the way in which Netflix drop a whole season in one go, I devoured over the weekend it hit.

With Litchfield Penitentiary becoming privatised, the MCC are keen to squeeze as many bodies into the jail-space as humanly feasible. By viewing prisoners as currency, however, they do not consider the factions that could occur by the simple mathematical probability from there being more people. This manifests itself in the form of strained race relations that arise when there is a surge in the Dominican inmates, and a group of white supremacists who resent the way they've asserted their authority. Piper Chapman, who, in a late, rare moment of self-reflection, admits she wanted to 'win prison', unwillingly stokes the tensions between the two groups, only to see herself branded (in more than one way) as a racist herself for her unthinking egotism.

In order to keep these brawling inmates in line is the introduction of Captain Piscatella (Brad William Henke), a giant of a man who takes no prisoners and regards the women of Litchfield as absolute scum. Piper's manufactured, wide-eyed charm that may have twisted the arm of a warden or two in the past simply doesn't work on Piscatella, who has seen it all before and bought the T-shirt. His unconventional methods for showing the inmates who's in charge are met with opposition by Warden Joe Caputo, which makes for a power struggle between the two of Shakespearean magnitude. Caputo tries to do what is best in the majority of situations, and the unenviable juggling act of of running a prison with  insubordinate prisoners, sly, thuggish officers and a big corporate sector who wishes to monetise the jail to an inch of its life are really highlighted in season 4 of OITNB. Nick Sandow is extremely effective at humanising Caputo and at times one couldn't call who has it worse -the mistreated inmates of Litchfield (not having enough sanitary towels to go around so that menstruaters had to stick tissue inside themselves was a new low), or the hapless Warden overseeing them all.

Other plot strands of season 4 include sadistic officers who like to toy with the prisoners for their own entertainment, Lolly and Alex struggling to deal with the albatross of their defence-killing of one of Kubra's cronies, and Maria Ruiz emerging as initially unwilling leader of the Dominican girls. This reluctance is illuminated in her flashback episode, 'Power Suit', where we learn that her father was a low-level kingpin for people from the Dominican Republic, and, such was her distaste for his antics that she turned her back on him to live with a Mexican guy. Another interesting flashback is Maritza Ramos, by far the most striking girl in Litchfield, who used her beauty to trick car dealerships into leasing her fancy cars for a test drive, under the misapprehension that she's some rich old man's trophy wife. Watching flashback!Maritza untangle herself from a quagmire this gets her into is one of the funniest parts of season 4. Had I been a betting woman (which I'm obviously not. Ahem), I would not have wagered Maritza was incarcerated for Grand Theft Auto, showing, once again, that the employment of flashbacks in this show can completely toss your preconceptions of characters out of the window.


Elsewhere, romance blossomons between annoying hippie Brooke Soso and Poussey Washington, the likeable class clown of Litchfield. The two are beyond adorable together, and Kimiko Glenn and Samira Wiley deserve kudos for crafting a romance that is organic, believable, and so full of love and hope. Judy King - a famous TV chef - gets sent to Litchfield for tax fraud, to which Poussey, a big fan, becomes turns into a starstruck fangirl whenever she's around. Brooke, in the way only Brooke can, tries to relieve her of her awe around Judy, only to cast some offensive aspersions of her own. This illustrates Brooke's narcissism and inclination for the farfetched, which is illustrated in her flashback. But in seeing how much her casual assumptions have hurt her girlfriend, Brooke gains the self-awareness that she never had when she was doing the same thing in the free world. It is a pleasure to learn each individual character's histories and see how much bad life choices and circumstance plays in them winding up where they are.

Orange is the New Black also very sensitively continues with the fallout of the Pennsatucky's rape in season 3 by officer Coates. Her friend, the confrontational man-hating Big Boo, is, understandably furious. Pennsatucky also feels some anger, but mainly sadness, and the show graciously gives her some closure (after season 3's 'A Tittin' and a Hairin'' episode, watching her character being raped twice in the same episode really was too much). It's amazing how much Pennsatucky has grown since her intolerant, evangelical Bible-bashing days of season 1, and there's something rewarding about watching her help Nicky through going cold turkey; the Doggett of old would never have done that. Taryn Manning excels at her portrayal of a multidimensional character who could have so easily descended into farce.

In fact, Orange is the New Black is one of the few shows where I am yet to see a dud performance. Uzo Aduba usually reaps the awards come Screen Actor Guild and Emmy time, and she is indeed brilliant as the unhinged Suzanne Warren. But I think Aduba's best acting, and baitiest scenes, were in season 2, when the manipulative Vee took her under her wing. The acting love needs to be spread more evenly in the next round of Emmy's, and there's a plethora of choice.

Samira Wiley deserves a lot of love for making Poussey so awesome and lovably goofy, and injecting real passion into her and Brooke's tender romance that makes the audience root for them in a way we don't to the blah Piper/Alex romance. Hearing the two discuss their plans for getting their life on track after leaving prison was almost tear-inducingly optimistic. As Taystee, Wiley's fellow Juilliard alumnus  (hot dang, does Juilliard produce some talented dames!) Danielle Brooks, gets appointed Caputo's P.A. this season. In doing so, Brooks shows incredible diversity in her acting range, first in her hilarious keenness for the secretarial role, complete jazzing up her prison attire and demanding a watch, but later, when tragedy hits, her character's raw reaction to the event in question is really upsetting to watch, and nails the pathos of Orange is the New Black. Taylor Schilling, Natasha Lyonne, Kate Mulgrew and Yael Stone are a few other standouts from the supremely talented ensemble cast.

In season 4, Orange is the New Black might have hit its peak. The frank, earthy dialogue is absolutely hilarious, but it would be nothing without the cast to deliver it so well. Case in point: Cindy's sass when her new roommate dares her, "'You really want to go there with me?" and, she retorts "Oh, went there, bought a house, moved in, bitch. And now I'm remodelling the kitchen." Furthermore as with Brooklyn Nine-Nine, another New York-set show of a somewhat different flavour, the pop culture references come thick and fast in the everyday conversations of the inmates, but in a natural, unforced way that both illuminates the gaps in characters' knowledge ('The Hungry Games' will never get old) and occasionally flirts with the meta (all those Walking Dead and Game of Thrones references hint at some foreboding).

OITNB has always modulated between comedic and dramatic scenes with a kind of irreverence that made my eyes water (who can forget the employment of 'Cellophane' as the credit song as a character was being pummelled to death by rocks wrapped in a cellophane bag?) But in season 4, the catalogue of the prison being overfilled and understaffed and inmates' hatred of each other was never going to end well. When the collateral damage occurs, it's undoubtedly one of TV's most heart-breaking moments; almost George R.R. Martin-esque in it's 'SCREW YOU, WRITERS!!!!!!!!' brutalness. The sheer injustice of it all had me weeping. But I could recognise the significance of it to the show. That's prison. And that's also life. Sometimes, the good die young.

It's the mark of such a fantastic show that OITNB offers wit, morality and the hint of redemption (or further deterioration?) at the climax. June 2017 can't get here fast enough.

Grade: A

The Heineken Brewery (Amsterdam).

Continuing with the picspammage of my Amsterdam trip, here be some photos I took from the Heineken brewery!

Assuming my Resting Bitchface death-stare.

This was too cute... you ride a bicycle whilst singing along to the lyrics on screen, all the while being projected up onto the screen there!

The drink Heineken always makes me think of the scene in Blue Velvet when Dennis Hopper's deranged murderer rants about how much he hates it; 'Heineken? Fuck that shit! Pabst Blue Ribbon!' But I, unlike Frank Booth, don't have quite such strong opinions against the drink.

Stirring the oats!

The tour guides gave us a seminar on how to drink Heineken properly!

Heineken adverts through the ages!

A  shirt signed by Jose Mourinho, haha

I find alcohol much more enthralling than I find old cars, so the Heineken experience was much to my approval. Towards the end they gave us a 4D tour, where you watch a film about the brewing process, and water actually sprays you, as if you're a hop particle, which was good fun. 

Also, for the ticket price of ‎€16 includes two small glasses of Heineken (in addition to the free one you get with the beer-tasting), so at the end of the tour, you can unwind in the friendly Heineken bar.

You've Got Time.

Between Orange is the New Black season 4 arriving on Netflix and the Euros going on, my only wish is that I had more time!

Restaurant review: AMPHITHEATRE RESTAURANT AND TERRACE AT THE ROYAL OPERA HOUSE (Covent Garden)

Last April, I went to see Madame Butterfly at the Royal Opera House. It was an exquisite performance that moved me to tears. Before the show and during the intervals, I drank and dined at the Amphitheatre Restaurant and Terrace, which I will now give a review of.

I'm generally wary of dining at restaurants that are part of the institution where the opera/ballet/concert is, because I worry that they'll be an afterthought to the building; a way for the owners to make a quick buck, rather than put any real thought into feeding their punters. Having visited this place, I think my reservations were correct.

Unsurprisingly, given the rather eye-watering price tags, the food was presented well enough, if not quite the same level in terms of taste. The steak pictured above wasn't the most delicious I've had the pleasure of tasting in London (that would have to be the transcendent Hawksmoor), but it wasn't the worst either. But, for the price paid, you'd hope for a little better than 'not the worst steak in London'. It was the chewiness that I really could not get on board with; as much as I like rare steaks, this tasted rubbery. Ew.

One aspect of Amphitheatre Restaurant and Terrace that was excellent was the service we received. The waiters were obliging and charming throughout, and I was very impressed with the organisation of the staff working at the restaurant, for, the second we returned to the restaurant at the interval, our dessert was waiting for us.

I had three flavours of ice cream; a tad overpriced at around £10 for what it was. It tasted fine, but the £1.99 ice cream tubs you get in Tesco taste exactly the same, minus the chocolate shavings ornamented on them. So I wasn't too impressed with the mains or the dessert.

As with The Savoy, extravagances like this where we unleash our inner Iggy Azalea and inwardly holler I'M SO FANCY are only one-in-a-year-type things. In terms of food quality, The Savoy far surpasses Amphitheatre and Terrace. In fact, it's fortunate for the Royal Opera House that their production of Madame Butterfly was so on point, or I'd be even more scathing in my critique of the restaurant; clearly a get-rich-scheme for the owners. They're laughing all the way to the bank. We're still struggling to cut up that rubbery steak with our incisors.

Grade: D