Monday 26 February 2007

Fucking Oscars

Just a friendly warning ~ it seems it’s been a looooong time since I swore much in me posts. But never fear: simply put the words ‘The Departed’ and ‘Infernal Affairs’ int same sentence, and off I go! Instant vitriol!


So there I am, on me way to work, and I happen to look up at the MTR bulletin thingy. You know, the wee electronic announcement things in the panelling above the opposite passengers’ heads. Looks like a baby scoreboard nicked from some little-league baseball ground somewhere. Anyway, the point is, I happen to pan right and yawn, and see the results (in Chinese):

’The Departed’ wins Best Picture Oscar

And that were about the moment I went: “Woah woah woah! Is it me, or has the world gone fucking nuts?”

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t actually care so much who wins, cos after all, they’re just foreign awards. I care more about BAFTAs, but they still come a looooong way behind the Hong Kong Film Awards. What I do object to is other films, namely ‘Little Miss Sunshine’ getting screwed over cos we’re all fawning over ourselves to lick Mr I’ve been working like a fucking dog and never got a fucking Oscar for it, neither Scorsese. I like Mr S. I do. But, really? REALLY?


Winning Best Director is one thing. He might have bought the story, lock stock and both fucking barrels, from Media Asia or whoever slipped up and let it out of the DVD masters cupboard that afternoon, but he still would have had to work hard to direct the fucker. Fair do’s, after all. He still had to think of amazing ways to motivate Leo De Craprio into pretending he could act fer more than 90 seconds. Come on, the man worked hard an’ all that.

But what does this say about Hollywood? That they buy a story, already made, filmed, and a winner at the Berlin Film Festival (among others) and then re-write (AND I USE THE TERM LOOSELY) it a tad to fit it into the USA way of doing things, and then win a fucking Oscar fer it. Oh, fuck me, could this possibly mean that the story was good enough to win Oscars BEFORE it was ‘re-written’ to make it easier fer American (and to some extent, all English-speaking) audiences to digest? Why people didn’t just watch the original and read the fucking subtitles is beyond me. I didn’t demand ‘Le fabuleux destin d’ Amélie Poulain’ in English, did I? I didn’t demand ‘Battle Royale’ or ‘Deathnote’ in English, did I? Oh, and while we’re on the subject, modern American and English are so far removed from one another, don’t even call em the same fucking language. Oh yes, and while we’re on that subject, let me pass judgement on the fucking appalling fucking use of fucking bad fucking language in the fucking film ‘The Fucking Departed’. Did the little script-monkey get paid per F-word to write that? Does he lack an imagination where vocabulary is concerned?

Right. I’ve railed against this not once, not twice, but three times already, so I’ll leave it there. Suffice to say I am less than impressed wi the whole sorry fucking mess.

Hope you enjoyed the pics. They're from some small-time Hong Kong film called ‘Infernal Affairs’. You might have heard of it. It were clever, well-acted and executed, a nice taut thriller with fantastic performances and a heart-stopping ending. But seems the rest of't world wouldn't be interested in that, dunt it?

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Sunday 25 February 2007

Attack Of The Talking Tylers

Crikey blimey Charlie, it’s been a week since I’ve made an entry. I’ve been sick, you know. Haven’t been this sick in a long while, actually. But, luckily, I’ve had DVDs from Granny W to keep me entertained and to stop me from jumping off a bridge to stop me coughing.

It’s been the attack o the Tylers, I can tell you. First we had Sam Tyler from ‘Life On Mars’. Then we had Vince Tyler from ‘Queer as Folk’. Then we had Rose Tyler from ‘Doctor Who’.

Life On Mars’ then. Series 2, episode 1. Not a complete cop-out (if you’ll pardon the pun), a nice pot-boiler minus any bunnies, and although at times I thought they trying just a wee bit too hard to make the Gene Genie extra-Geney, it went over well. Enjoyed the whole role-reversal thing, and the “I told you so” ending. Well, that were me, saying that. Not Gene.

Queer As Folk’ then. In turns hilarious, outrageous, and a little touching. Well, a lot of touching, but actually I were talking about me, not what the lads get up to ont screen. The Vince character were a little disturbing. Only cos I think he reminded me of me just a wee bit in places. Russell T. Davies certainly writes a good mini-soap. And there are quotes galore to be had and used from that, I’ll tell you…

Doctor Who’ then. Just got over ‘Tooth and Claw’, and am now into ‘School Reunion’. Oh my dog, Sarah Jane and K9! The ending almost made me blub. Well, I had summat in me eye, anyway.

Speaking o The Tennster, ‘Casanova’ then. Oh, how I laffed my arse off at that one – parts one and two, anyway. The BBC really can do it right, sometimes, I’ll give em that. The sets, the costumes, the writing (Russell T. Davies strikes again), the wit, the editing, the style. Fab. Now then, part three – that’s a different matter. Still funny in places, still wicked and amusing, but the end did make me blub like a girl. Completely. Yeah, I’m still sick, but there were no excuse fer that kinda behaviour. Oh, Peter O’Toole, bless his wee cottons, he’s such a wonderful package of all that’s right with English (alright, half-Irish half-Scots, raised in Leeds) actors. I’ll always love him for having made ‘My Favourite Year’.

Er, anything else as caught me eye this week? Oh, ta to Mister * over at Such As They Are, I’ve run over this word: MacGuffin. I were thinking, hmm, never went to film school me, what’s that when it’s at home? If you check the ever-popular Wikipedia fer their entry on MacGuffin, you get a complicated answer. I were kinda scratching me head a little, then noticed a few ‘uses of’ things at bottom. ‘Self-sealing stem-bolts’ caught me eye – as they would anyone when you remember that, hey, they’re not just any stem-bolts, they’re self-sealing stem-bolts. Then I realised what a MacGuffin is…

Talking o sci-fi shows, Firefly has caught me eye this week an all. One of them shows I always wanted to watch but it never coincided wi me life, I finally got the chance to sit down and watch a few episodes. Have to say, it’s pretty good if you like cowboys in space – an I mean the gun-slinging, bar-room-brawling, boot-him-in-the-nadgers kinda cowboys, not the ones as re-fit yer kitchen wi the wrong plumbing. I were originally intrigued by the quotes bandied about, and then recently were called upon to have a quick squiz at some Chinese dialogue as apparently crops up from time to time.

Talk about completely intrigued. Where else would you get a sci-fi show about cowboys, big (space) boots n talking funny included, suddenly swearing at people in Potunghua / Mandarin Chinese? Granted, the pronunciation is not the best, and the way it’s only used to let people know how you really feel is a little back-burner-ish, but it’s got me watching more episodes. I’d say, as a gimmick, it’s worked. Although the pronunciation is quite bad and it’s all done very quickly, kinda like young actors trying Shakespeare fert first time, gabbling it quickly so it’s done and dusted faster. But it’s there. And if yer very, very quick, you can get the jist of it.

Mr favourite so far has to have been “跟猴子比丟屎” ~ ‘go fling shit with monkeys’. Or how about “大象爆炸式的拉肚子” ~ ‘an elephant’s exploding shit’. Amusing. Although, sometimes, the awful pronunciation does more than enhance the experience.

Anyway, that’s everything. I’m all caught up, ta, and how have to go get all me shite to the laundry, and start cleaning the flat. Looks like a bomb’s hit it. An that.



Caption of't week: “Just lie back and think of Gallifrey, mate...


Soopytwist.

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Sunday 18 February 2007

You read la

Hi, you no meet me already ar, I come to give you hear message from Miss Soup. She no well, she tell me I say you she no well so you no angry she no mail.

Me My name is Tong Siu-Lung, you call me Lung-Lung is ok la. I before is student Miss Soup, now I friend la. I know yesterday of new year eve, Missy she no call me, I worry and give to her SMS. She reply me feel sick all the work day already. I go her home, she bad koff and achoo many time. She say she have bad head, but I don’t know la, she head look like no problem woh.

New year eve she only can sleep la, morning she no leave bed la, only pee-break and night-time watch TV with bed-duvet, is very warm ga. She say she very love her Granny who are W, she give her new DVD she give me see. I see the fun movie of the Val Kill-me and many cow, and sing and dance. I think he very good of boy actor, perhaps after long time can do superhero or rock singer.

Photobucket - Video and Image HostingNew year day she sleep and tell me get beer. I say no la, she very angry woh! I make her happy, I give her see the Granny W that one DVD. Is a thin man, I think he no special thing, but show is very fun, and he love all the lady long time. He very funny man, Miss Soup say he have big talent. I think also, he do very good funny thing but no funny face. Sometime he is hou chyun so naughty. We watch very happy, but she laugh too many so koff many time. I worry, I say her no watch one more. She very lau angry ga, I again tell her no. I say she very sick person, go to hostel hospital. She say Hong Kong people is too much hospital. She eat the bacon butty with much HP sauce la, she say is very good for sick, and Mister 4D that man is clever like Yoda, everything he also know.

She very bored now, she say always sleep is boring ar. She say she help me write, but I know my Engerlish ok la. Is not 100 score but meaning is ok, hai mai? I tell her just can play more with iPod and sleeping la, but she too much boring bored woh. She say give her see the DVD of Granny W, the thin man of ten inch (you me, also don’t know why this is name la). I say no, she see and then too excited, she no breath. She say we pack it in and give to see one more DVD, is many men love all the Manchester men of Canal Street.

I try to see. If no good, I tell you after. You no worry la, I no give her to drink the beer or the wisseekay. I only can give her drink the soup and tell her remember she say no again smoke the yin-jai cigarettes. I say, she smoke, she no see the thin man of ten inch. Is fair no fair? I say all fair.

Bye-bye loh, next time is maybe Miss Soup write. You go to see the pretty pictures loh, is very nice.

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Saturday 17 February 2007

Happy New Year! 農歷新年快樂!

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HAPPY NEW YEAR OF THE PIG!
農歷新年快樂!


Cue four days' holiday an lots o TV and DVD-watching. Fireworks, fire-crackers, fish, new year cake, sweets, sleeping an alcohol. Well, I should be out buying flowers fromt new year market, or getting me sweetie box in, or plastering up me fai chuns (them red things above), but I'm proper sick wi the worst man-flu since I were off school fer a week back in 1989. Bugger, double bugger, and an extra pint of bugger fert weekend, eh?

I'm posting this and then going back to bed. At least I have Sharpe's Tiger on me iPod, read by the lovely Sean Bean, to keep me entertained. I can't even get out the house to get some coke, ginger and lemon in. Meh.

'Night.


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Tuesday 13 February 2007

Birthdays and films and wants, oh my


As of this day, 13th February 2007, and this, my 120th post, this blog is one year old. Awww! Has it really been a year since I sat in Mam’s old chair, huddled under a duvet against the arctic conditions in me dad’s front room, typing away? Well, yeah, obviously. A year since the first series of ‘Life On Mars’, a year since my stint as an unemployable bum, a year since I realised I could waffle better than I could write fiction.

And so it goes.

Films first then: If yer into weeny Jet Li (Lei Lin-Git) like me, then yer’ll be pleased to note that he’s finished filming ‘Rogue’ (also starring Jason “you stole the jam outta my doughnut Tommy” Statham) and it’s in post-production. Hopefully it will hit the world’s theatres sometime around September this year. Here’s wishing-and-hoping-wishing-and-hoping that it won’t be so much wire-fu arse gravy, like ‘Romeo Must Die’ or ‘Cradle 2 The Grave’ was. Although I liked bits of ‘Cradle 2 The Grave’ for Anthony Anderson and Tom Arnold’s very funny totally deadpan (McHale’s Navy type) scenes. And Mark Dacascos. But I have to disagree ~ Mark would have had little Jet. I’m not saying that fer any other reasons than they’re both ex-wushu champions in real life, Mark’s a little younger (and dare I say it, faster) and he int carrying an old knee injury. So there.

Anyway, the point is, he’s filming his new one, ‘刺馬’, or ‘Ci Ma’ (Mandarin/Potunghua) or ‘Chi Ma’ (Cantonese) or ‘Blood Brothers’ as the name has been rendered in English (it’s a Potunghua film, which is a good thing, cos his accent is lovely). And guess who’s along fert wewungwung ride? Why, it’s the amazingly avian Andy Lau Tak-Wah and the completely creamy-dreamy Kaneshiro Takeshi (Gam Sing-Mo). Bargain! And you can even read all about it on his very own, Jet-written blog. Don’t worry, it’s in English and Simplified Chinese, so you can even brush up on yer Potunghua while yer there.

Talkin o brushing up, those two gore-hounds Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino have a new back-to-back weird jobbie coming soon: Grindhouse. Apparently it’s two completely separate, unconnected films showing back to back, wi lots o little gimmicks like fake trailers and shite int middle etc. Apparently it’s great film-making and a wonderful homage to all those snuff-like ‘art-house’ movies shown in back-street secret pictures palaces. Sounds like it could either be shite (cos Tarantino’s in there, and he lost my appreciation after ‘Kill Bill’ came out) or pretty cool (due to Rodriguez recently having given us ‘Sin City’).

I did mention a ‘want’ int title, didn’t I? So here it is then ~ well, three, actually. A TARDIS USB hub, a sonic screwdriver and a Peter Kay ‘London is shite’ baseball cap. No doubt I’ll have grown out of all of these before next week. Except the TARDIS hub. It flashes its light, you know. And makes that ‘indignant elephant’ vworp vworp noise. How fab is that?

Ahem.

That’s it then. I’m off to make sure I can avoid the annual saccharine-fest that will descend tomorrow. Oh, and run squeeeeing with delight to me local Post Office to pick up me parcel from Granny W, and rip off’t packaging to get to Casanova. Well, the DVD, anyway… Did I mention how much I love Granny W?

Peach and lube then. And I mean that most sincerely, folks.

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Friday 9 February 2007

“Take a look at the law-man beating up the wrong guy…

… oh man, wonder if he’ll ever know… he’s in the best selling show…”


So we’ve got till next Tuesday before we find out what happens to Sam and the Gene Genie. Four days till the first episode of series two of Life On Mars is broadcast in Blighty, and we find out if they really did just fuck off downt pub after the padded, predictable ratings-grabfest that was the final episode of series one.

I should be nicer. I know the first seven episodes were fab. I especially enjoyed the Gene Genie’s having a go at Sam Tyler ~ who didn’t? Who could fail to be amused by his rough an’ ready attitude when it comes to dealing wi some jumped-up nonce from ‘Hyde’?

Poor Sam, though. Not only is he still stuck in 1973 (or is he? Or is he? OR IS HE?), he has to suffer the indignity of being rendered as a Trumpton / Camberwick Green puppet fert adverts. Although I have to say, he looks much better. That Puppet Gene Hunt had me in absolute stitches. It’s the funniest fucking thing I’ve seen since a student wrote “I don’t like chickens, they all have H5N1” for an example fert ‘I don’t like’. About ten minutes after seeing the BBC advert, I had the fucking roll-call "Hugh! Hugh! Barley! McGrew! Cuthbert! Dibble! Grub!" in me head all bloody evening. And then when I checked Wikipedia for a reference (just in case some bugger here has never seen either o those classics), I found out all these years I've been gettin't names wrong! Oh the shame!

So will we get more Nelson the barman? Who I prefer to believe knows a tad more ‘n he’s letting on? And more wee Chris? Who I prefer to believe is harmless, bless his wee cottons. And more Annie? Who I prefer to believe is more of a man than that twat Ray Carling? And please, please, please, fert love o Sean Bean’s arse, give us more Phyllis!

That’s about it, really. Just wanted to share the pics and the lovely trailer. Ta to Bluestocking fert details and regular blogs to giggle over.

Soopytwist.

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Tuesday 6 February 2007

Signs (Parte the Second)

Bank queue rage. That’s what I’m suffering from. Well, not now, obviously, seeing as how I’m not actually stood int bank right now. But this morning, oooh, love a duck, I were as ready as both o them two tribes to go to war.

Apologies. That’s the first and last time I shall ever use the phrase “love a duck”.

Anyway, what is it wi little old ladies trying to shove you forwards while yer waiting in a queue? As if that’s going to help, everyone just shuffling forward a few inches. I tell you what, let’s all try it, and then look at what we’ve accomplished, shall we? Right then, here we go: shuffling forwards… shuffling forwards… and you, keep up, mate… right, there we are. All shuffled and forwarded and still standing twenty-eighth int queue. Except now I’m uncomfortably close to the person in front an behind.

Well, that didn’t work too well, did it? So, Woman-Behind-Me-Int-Bank-Queue today: fer the love of Sean Bean’s arse, will you stop shoving me forwards like yer doing Tai Qi. It int big and it int clever ~ and it dunt get anyone anywhere.

Ok? Are we done? We’re done.

Onto signs, then. I did promise a while back I’d be putting up some signs as kids have explained the meanings of, if that makes sense. Fer example, this one about parking / peeing (same-same, apparently). Onto number two, then. I give you:


And what were the meaning I were given? Now, take a minute to think about it. What, conceivably, could a bunch of eleven-year-old Hong Kong kids come up with? I’ll let you think about it fer a wee spell. It is fab, by the way.

In other news, have been listening to Russell Brand’s podcast from Radio 2 and laffing probably a lot more than any one of me sisters would think is appropriate. Sorry, I just think he’s funny. I don’t have to put up wi him on a regular-enough basis to get fucked off wi his humour, so it’s fine fer me to listen to ont bus and MTR and get stared at fer laffing like a small child possessed.

Anyway, thought about it yet? Right then, the meaning of the sign, as divined by the class o kids, were:

DANGER, PIRATE COWS OPERATE IN THIS AREA

Nice.

And that’s really it. Peach and lube everyone, and I’ll see you all again very soon.

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Thursday 1 February 2007

All things fucked and wonder fuel

Hot showers. I tell you, mate, there’s not a lot o things finer ont freezing, brass-monkey weather morning than a hot shower. Me water heater’s fine, ta very much. Hasn’t given me a lick of trouble in oh… at least a month. Me tap, however, now that’s a different story…

Time was I could get into me wee shower cubicle, turn ont tap, lift the lever thing and get lovely hot water outta the shower head. Now it’s started turning a bit parky over here (like 15 degrees C ~ about ten degrees too cold fert likes o me, I might add) the fucker’s started playing Silly Buggers left, right, and all over my centre. Now it’s turn ont tap, feel water is hot, lift lever and start screaming and leaping up and down, crazed-Beatles-fan-stylee, as the fucking thing blasts water that, I shit you not, could pretty much scald the paint off the underside of an oil tanker. From thirty paces.

I know we’ve never really got along, me and that tap. I know we’ve never really been what you might call ‘friends’, in any loose kinda interpretation of’t word. But come on, mate, do you really have to try and give me an interesting new skin-peel just cos I don’t want all me bits frozen off? I ask you, is a reasonably hot shower too much to ask?

In other news, this new Blogger thing is also inventing new variations of Silly Buggers, the obviously now international game of fun and arsing about. I happened upon a reason to check my Casino Royale review – and what do I find upon clicking the link as posted ~ by Blogger ~ int right-hand pane of me own fucking page?

Sorry, come back later, we’ve bollocksed it up. Report this and praps we’ll do summat about it. One day.


Riiiiiiiiiight. Turns out, other links aren’t working either. Hmm. Someone took it outta Beta too soon, methinks. Or it’s just fucked. Which, judging by the way the rest of me week has gone, is far more likely.

So I’ve been very glad that I’ve (1) got series one of A Bit of Fry and Laurie on DVD to watch, and (2) a fridge full of beer. And Jack Daniels. Fantastic. No wait ~ that just dunt fit the teeth. Talking of which, I have a number 3: waiting wi bated breath (ooh, am I ever batey) fer me Casanova DVD and season 2 Doctor Who / the Tennster does Jarvis. Can’t wait. Cos it’s gonna be… too cool fer school!

Also, a big ta to everyone as let me know that Starbuck / Face / Dirk Benedict came third in Celebrity Big Brother ~ I can now sleep at night. Actually, I think it were Drunk Punk, from his new home over there at WordPress. Looks a lot more exciting than Blogger. Hmm….

I think that’ll do it. Apart from a plea directed at Granny W: come up and see me, make me smile. I’ll do what you want, running wild. If you like. It’s been one o them weeks.

That’s it, that’s yer lot.

Soopytwist.

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