Please make your way in an orderly fashion to The Praising Armadillo where my mother's quotes will take permenant residence from now on.

Thursday, 24 January 2013

Oscar Fever


Let's have it then, dear Oscar...


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Oscar season is upon us, and what an odd time it is indeed. I don't get this. Good films come out all year long but most of the films with even a fighting chance of getting an Oscar have only come out in the last couple of months...
Mini-moan aside, I've been fascinated by the Oscar's since the first time I saw Bugs Bunny pick up his little gold statue and make his acceptance speech. Its the only time of the year I will make the effort to sit and watch films I wouldn't have otherwise bothered to see. I mean, I'd never even have attempted to watch Lincoln had it not been nominated for Best Picture and Best Director [Steven Spielberg's seventh nomination. He's won twice before for Saving Private Ryan (1998) and Schindler's List (1993)].

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As it happens, I didn't manage to get through it. I normally love talky, heavily politics laden films so I'm going put it down to the fact that I was tired that I fell asleep around half way through. While critics have praised the film and its performances, Tommy Lee Jones' very presence was distracting for me – all I could think about was his character from Men in Black and the more personal aspects of Lincoln's life, for example his relationship with his elder son, just left me a little cold. Like I say, I was tired and that's why I couldn't sit through it, don't let me put you off if you're thinking about watching it.

Of the films in the Best Picture category I have attempted to watch 5 out of the 10, and managed to sit all the way through three.

My biggest Oscar disappointment by far – and I mean ever – has been Les Misérables. It's not often that I can't get to the end of a film simply because it becomes unbearable to watch. Other noted examples, often ending in a snooze, include Electra and the truly painful Nikos the Impaler – during the latter of which, I willed myself to pass out rather than sit through ano
ther minute of it.

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Running time is 158 minutes. I managed just under half that before I couldn't handle any more singing. I've never been a huge fan of musicals – the few exceptions include Chicago and Oliver! The over-acting and terribly saccharine lyrics are particularly hard to stomach in a lot of them. And Les Misérables delivers plenty of all of that. The appeal of it was in the very clever decision to make all the actors sing live on set. The execution is quite impressive regardless of the films other flaws – most notably pacing, set design and Russell Crowe. Redeeming moments that made the first half tolerable were Anne Hathaway's brief but memorable performance, climaxing with a beautifully, yet simply shot, emotional delivery of I Dreamed a Dream; and Sasha Baron Cohen and Helena Botham-Carter's version of Master of the House, a fun performance with laugh-out-loud comic timing. But I'd wait until clips of it are up on Youtube before paying out actual money to see it. Movie critics have said that it's not worth watching after about half way through so I'm in no rush to attempt to see it in its entirety.

I wouldn't be surprised if this film won Best Picture. I won't be happy about it, but not surprised.

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Another big contender for Best Picture is Amour. Its script is entirely in French, and only one of nine nominations for a non-English language film in the Best Picture category in the history of Oscar. If Amour wins it would be an Oscar first. It's also up for Best Director, and its easy to see why. The direction is captivating. Though the dialogue isn't the most enthralling its 127 minute running time passes quickly because of the Hitchcock-ian-esk sense of claustrophobia the protagonist, played heartbreakingly by Jean-Louis Trintignant (overlooked for a Best Actor nomination), is slowly overwhelmed by. It's a beautiful film I wouldn't have seen had my mother not insisted. A worthy winner, though not my favourite in the category.

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Django Unchained is the Best Picture nominee I would have seen with or without Oscar's encouragement, because when director Quentin Tarantino name is attached to any project, it's worth a look in. Django Unchained has been marred by controversy, with many such as director Spike Lee accusing it of 'glorifying slavery' before even having seen the film. Most people who have seen the film would agree that it does precisely the opposite, highlighting the great cruelty and dehumanisation of slavery, and in one memorable scene, show the utter stupidity and simple mindedness of the KKK. Though the middle of the film slows down to a frustrating pace for some time, probably done on purpose, its an immensely fun film about revenge and friendship with great performances from Academy Award winning actor Christoph Waltz and Jamie Foxx, who was disgracefully left out of the Best Actor in a Leading Role category. It's upsetting at times, but it didn't dampen my enjoyment of it. I'll be watching this one again very soon.
Though I'd love it to win Best Picture it's unlikely to happen. Quentin Tarantino's missed out on a third Best Director nomination and looking at Oscar's history, it's clear it's very rare for a film to win Best Picture without at least a nomination in the Best Director category – more often than not a film will win with both statuettes in the bag.

Finally, my favourite for Best Picture and Best Director is Ang Lee's beautiful and hypnotising Life Of Pi. The story, the colours, the imagery .. I'd have to be nit-picking to find fault. I'll be singing this film's praises when I'm an old woman, curled up on the sofa watching the 2063 Oscar's with my grand-babies. It's just too good. I've already watched it twice. I'm not going to say any more – just go watch it. Go, seriously. I'll even let you watch it in 3D if you really want to. Go.
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Also nominated in the Best Picture category are critically acclaimed Argo, Beasts of the Southern Wild, Silver Linings Playbook, and the controversial allegedly-and-most-likely-considering-its-director-made-the-pro-war-propaganda-fest-though-awesome-and-suspence-filled-The-Hurt-Locker-pro-torture film Zero Dark Thirty.

Sunday, 11 November 2012

10 Things to do before I turn 30


Well, whoop-de-doo, I'm 25.

Actually, yeah, whoop-de-doo indeed. I'm 25 years old – I have a job I enjoy, confidence, a good education, family and friends I love and great guy beside me. I'm doing ok. I might not be where I wanted to be by the measures of my naïve 15 year old self, but she thought I'd be running my own restaurant and sipping Champagne out of the navels of male models about now. Two things I have no interest in doing any more.

But I am turning 25 and I've never been too happy about getting older. Everyone tells me I'm being silly, that I'm exaggerating. And you know, I think they might be right. This is the first birthday where anything is possible. I'm not mourning what I've left behind but looking forward to what's ahead... and it's exciting. So with that said here's a list of things I want to do before I turn 30. One that, no doubt, I will regret making when I don't get around to any of them.

  1. Fantasy: Star as the lead in a Broadway musical
  2. Achievable: Move into a bigger place with an actual decent wardrobe
    Fantasy: Said place will not be anywhere out of zone 3
  3. Achievable: Write a 6 episode sitcom
    Fantasy: Actually get it on television
  4. Achievable: Go on a Fugitives and Refugees tour of Portland
    I heart Chuck
    Fantasy: Actually meet Chuck Palahniuk and get him to sign my arm so I can have it tattooed on.
  5. Achievable: Ride in a Gondola
    Fantasy: Not complain about how expensive it is in Europe the whole time I'm there.

  6. Achievable: Exercise more
    Fantasy: Run the London Marathon
  7. Achievable: Camp at a festival
    www.vietnamfood.org
    Fantasy: Make it through without having a little weep when the tent won't stay up
  8. Achievable: Eat Banh Mi on the streets of Ha Noi
    Fantasy: Only eat one per sitting

  9. Achievable: Find out who Your Mother is
    Fantasy: Feel genuine satisfaction during the grand finale
  10. Achievable: Enjoy hot tubing out doors in the Rockies
    www.tripadvisor.com
    Fantasy: Time travel to the eighties.

Wednesday, 6 June 2012

The Laughing Armadillo's Concert Awards


The Laughing Armadillo's Concert Awards

The other night I witnessed one of the most beautiful man made spectacles I have ever seen. Coldplay are really something to see live. They're a band that polarise opinion like no other. Those that love them see beautiful melodies and heartfelt lyrics. Those that hate them have labelled them whiny and depressing. But you know, each to their own. I think dubstep sounds like roadworks, chart toppers are repetitive cheesy nonsense and if I hear another rapper brag about his bitches and hoes I'll voluntarily strangle him with my fallopian tubes! For me, they're one of those bands that write lyrics that stay with me, much the same way that Nirvana's do. And to have their concerts be something magical and hypnotic is just the most special thing for a fan. Because, really if a band can't deliver when they're live, musically or visually, then what use are they to the world? So here I present to you my winners, and losers, of The Laughing Armadillo's Concert Awards as of June 6th 2012.

Best Venue
Nominees:
The Koko Club (Trivium 2010)
Wembly Stadium (Muse 2007, Coldplay 2009)
Emirates Stadium (Coldplay 2012)
Brixton Academy (Disturbed 2008)

Winner: The Koko Club. Intimate venue, with lots of nooks and crannies to huddle in when you need a break from the mosh. The only drawback would be the 100ml bottle of water on offer for £2.10!





Best Song Performed Live
Nominees:
The Wicker Man (Iron Maiden, 2011)
Lovers in Japan (Coldplay 2009)
New Moon Rising (Wolfmother, 2011)
Monarchy of Roses (Red Hot Chili Peppers, 2011)

Winner: The Wicker Man. Not a song of Iron Maiden's I was very familiar with at the time. Now, as of that fateful day last August I will never forget head banging my heart out and waving my fist in the air to the eardrum rupturing chant, “YOUR TIME WILL COOOOOOME!” Breathtaking.





Most Embarrassed to Acknowledge Seeing
Nominees:
Peter Andre (head liner), 1997
911 (head liners), 1999
Bewitched (supporting act), 1999
Girls Aloud (supporting act), 2009

Winner: Bewitched. Dear mother of everything sacred, its bad enough I went to see 911 let alone sit though this lot! In my defence, 1999 was a long time ago.





Best Stage Performance
Nominees:
Red Hot Chili Peppers, 2011
Iron Maiden, 2011
Ben Folds, 2001
Wolfmother, 2011

Winner: Wolfmother. This was a tough one, but I gotta give it to Wolfmother just for the sheer energy, their singer Andrew's afro and the crazy, crazy keyboardist who went bananas and never hit a bum key. Ben Folds just misses out because it was so long ago I don't remember much beyond him playing the piano with his feet. But the closest contender had to be Iron Maiden because Bruce Dickinson has still got it – flying about the stage like a man possessed, you know he loves what he does quite unlike anyone else.



Most Emotional Moment
Nominees:
Fix You (Coldplay, 2012)
Photograph (Nickelback, 2007)
Shiver (Coldplay, 2009)
The Resistance (Muse, 2010)

Winner: The Resistance. Right in the heart of the mosh, singing with Philip as if our lives depended on it; young and at the start of our own love story - “Love is our ressssssssssssssssistance.” Unforgettable. Just missing the top spot, Nickelback's performance of Photograph from 2007 was special for me because here I was with two people I'd spent my secondary school years with from start to finish, in a place I might never visit again (hope that's not the case!) and I knew that things would never be the same. As the stock polaroid shots of teenagers larking about faded in and out on the big screens I thought of how our school days were simply going to exist in photographs from now on. Now don't tell me that's not something to get choked up about.



Hottest Musician
Nominees:
Tom Smith (Vocal for Editors, 2010)
John Frusciante (Guitar for Red Hot Chili Peppers, 2001)
Matt Heafy (Lead Vocals and Guitar for Trivium, 2010)
Dave Grohl ( Lead Vocals and Guitar for The Foo Fighters, 2001)

Winner: Matt Heafy. Just because wow. And because when he plays guitar, his arms flex and glisten the way you imagine the arms of Adonis-like athletes in the ancient Olympics would do... I'm such a groupie...








Best Stage Design/Concept
Nominees:
The Final Frontier (Iron Maiden, 2011)
Black Holes and Revelations (Muse, 2007)
Mylo Xyloto (Coldplay, 2012)

Winner: Black Holes and Revelations. Muse just pips it because they managed to make the crowd look like an alien in aerial shots of the gig. Their space geek fetish does wonders for set brainstorming sessions.








Weirdest Outfit
Nominees:
Matt Bellamy – The Red Suit (Muse, 2007)
Dom Howard – The Silver One-sy (Muse, 2007)
Robyn – The Velvet Gold Leggings (Supporting Act for Coldplay, 2012)

Winner: Robyn. First place goes to the super skin tight gold leggings that left very little to the imagination, so much so we found ourselves averting our eyes.



Best Supporting Act
Nominees:
Puddle of Mud, 2007
Jay-Z, 2009
Chimera, 2010
Pulled Apart By Horses, 2010

Winner: Puddle of Mud. Because the phrase “She fucking hates me!” was invented to be shouted in stadiums across the world.










Worst Supporting Act
Nominees:
Shy Child, 2007
Dragonforce, 2010
Gold Rush, 2011

Winner: Dragonforce. Well, honestly there are no winners here. All three are in this category because they were painful to listen to, incredibly boring and did nothing to 'arouse' the audience, as a support band is meant to – talk about no foreplay. Shy Child were a two piece band that sounded like half a dozen cats screwing. Unable to believe their luck at getting to play Wembley, they grinned uncomfortably through the whole thing and every time they introduced a new song we were both horrified our ordeal wasn't over and perplexed that the next song sounded exactly like the previous one. However, Dragonforce very nearly ruined Iron Maiden's set for me because the childish, embellished guitar playing was enough to give me the mother of all migraines. You are not the heroes of the universe, unless the universe occupies the space between the rim of the toilet bowl and the start of the waste pipe. If I wanted to feel like I was stuck in a shit video game I'd just watch Tron again.



Best Concert Overall

Well, I couldn't possibly answer that because each one holds such wonderful memories... Live music is by far the greatest escape. Better even than cinema or the theatre. A chance to let who you are take over every part of you. Whether its the spectacle, the music, the dancing, the singing, the emotion, the kissing, the swaying, the strangers protecting each other, the mosh, the headbanging, the screaming, the violent clapping, the spontaneous hugging (lot of that going on at Wolfmother), the zombie like stretching of arms, the devil horns, the falling over, the thrashing, the jumping, the chanting, the squeezing, the foot stomping, the sweating, all pressed up against people you've never met and will probably never see again... well, where else in public would you be allowed to do all that without being sectioned? Bliss.



Wednesday, 25 April 2012

Dear Rain...

Dear Rain,
This really isn't working out for me... I'm sorry. Its me not you. I mean, I just don't think I can handle having you touch me any more. The noise you make that was once so cute is now just deafening to me and the grey sky you blanket us in is not longer cosy, just suffocating. I think we should see other people. Sunshine really understands my needs right now.. we're both in more of the same place.
I hope you find someone who truly appreciates you. There are lots of places where you'd be loved and feel needed.
I hope you understand and I hope we can stay friends.
With (now just platonic) Love, LA xxx

Monday, 19 March 2012

Hair, old age and other exaggerations...

I have reached an inevitable point in my beauty regime. Forgive me for discussing such trivial things but I promise I'll get to the point I'm trying to make soon. You see, every month or so I dye my hair from jet black to various shades of red or purple... Why I hear you ask would someone with rich dark black hair ever want to dye it? Most people attempt to dye their hair my natural colour and more often than not look like Goths. All well and good if you are actually are a Goth, but most people just look washed out. That said, my natural hair colour suits me. Olive complexion and thick eyebrows. Black just works. But its bloody boring and after 20 years or so I wanted a change. I like being a redhead. It suits me too if you can overlook the fact that my eyebrows are black, but hey. Its slowly turning into a trademark of mine. Trouble is my roots have grown out a fair deal now and I'm thinking, maybe I should just leave it. In honour of Ms Winehouse, I do miss her dearly, perhaps I too should go Back to Black. It seems like nothing but its a big decision. My hair is very long and I'm frightened of damaging it. And it took a great deal of time to lighten my hair enough for the red dye to actually show up. If I do go back to black and then change my mind, it'll take forever to get it back to red – and no one ever wrote a song called 'Back to Red'. However, and this brings me to my real dilemma, a few seconds too long in front of the mirror last week and I discovered that my major hair decision may have been made for me.

When I was growing up my parents ran a green grocers and all too often after primary school I would spend the afternoon behind the counter with my mother. Starting to reach an age when the true fear of growing old kicks in, my mum would regularly ask me to check her hair for signs of grey. The coast was always clear until one fateful Friday afternoon. I didn't know whether to tell her or not, but I think the laughing gave it away. She screamed. In a hysterical panic she ran to the mirror. Frantically she ran her hands through her hair looking for it, desperate to see the horrible truth for herself. “Pull it out, pull it out!!” She screamed. “But Mum, you're not supposed to. Won't ten grow back in its place?” I replied, feeling helpless in the kind of way only a naïve child can. My heart sunk that day. My mother's reaction had frightened me somewhat. It was only when I got older that I realised how much the whole event had been over dramatised. But I remember how it made me feel at the time. And I swore from that day that I wouldn't be like my parents. I would grow old gracefully. I wouldn't panic about these things. I would accept old age as a fact of life and relish in greater experience.

But what the hell did I know? I was nine. I hadn't even had a chance to be young yet. As a teenager you feel invincible... I could walk for miles upon miles, stay up all night and drink heavily without dire consequences. But times change and even now in my twenties, I can't drink as much as I once did, I can't seem to keep off the weight like I used to and every time I lift up something too heavy I ache for days. Barely in my prime and my body is getting ready to start decomposing. I am past my peak and worst of all, my hair follicles seem to have caught on. Last week, I found myself, just like my mother standing in front of the mirror desperately trying to find the grey hair I had caught a glimpse of while brushing my teeth. At first I couldn't believe it. I thought it might have just been a strand of hair shining in the light from the window. Just my eyes playing tricks on me. It couldn't possibly... But no, there it was, almost white against my jet black roots. I even contemplated the idea of pulling it out – but I was afraid of confronting it with my own eyes. My mum was 37 when I discovered her first grey hair. I'm 24 years old... Educated, unemployed and still a redhead, no longer by choice.