pointless and heartless ...Under the Skin

It is not often that I miss the point of a movie and entertain myself with watching others to see who will walk out first. It seems that people were agitated and there were quite a few toilet visits and returns... perhaps they like me had skimmed the positive reviews and wanted to see the good bits. But it was such a relief for this movie to finally be over, and I guess I just accepted it was a wasted evening! So where did it all go wrong? Scarlett Johansson plays a not-very-alien predator at large in a battered white van in Glasgow. While this adaptation of Michael Faber's novel has intrinsic benefit, it was not easy to access and I was perplexed by her seductive and manipulative voyeurism, which seemed both pointless and heartless. OK it was interesting to see 'normal' street scenes but it adds little to the story. Perhaps there was some point scoring by the ever so educated and critically cool English writers at a kerb-crawling Hollywood star luring ordinary Scottish lads using hidden cameras! So we are supposed to recognise an emotional vulnerability emerging that results in her ultimate downfall, but I did not feel a thing - maybe I was looking away...

a rural golf weekend escape

As an alternative to a spa weekend, I was impressed by the Sedlescombe Golf Hotel as a weekend golf escape. The half day golf school began early with some structured teaching on the driving range, followed by a video analysis of my very personal bad habits, and supplemented by a video 'yes i can do it' improvement piece. It seems that I had remembered some useful advice from a previous lesson and overapplied it, to my detriment! So after a tasty smoked seafood lunch, we played the 18 hole long parkland course, to try out what was learned in the lesson. I needed time to deconstruct my game, lose a few balls and observe all sides of every fairway, before I could start to rebuild new and initially awkward habits. I loved the option for Saturday evening of choosing my own fresh seafood, which was purchased for me in the seafood market. I was advised that the halibut was not in season and opted for sardines that were char grilled and cooked with samphire, beans and mashed potato. It was good to revisit my new backswing movement on Sunday morning, and apply it to the short game and even on the putting green. Finally, it was fantastic to feel it all coming together again on the course on Sunday afternoon.

Rambert dancing like crazy in Oxford

Classically trained dancers moving in asymetrical angles, in and out of sequence, barefoot and accompanied by a live orchestra...that is the Rambert Dance Company, last week at the New Theatre, Oxford. Titled, The castaways, we enjoyed four distinct dances. Superb individual costumes together with exaggerated and awkward movements expose human camaraderie, cooperation and alienation. Debussy's music accompanied the short and powerful L'apres midi d'un faune, a strongly theatrical soliliquoy in dance. The ultra modern What Wild Ecstasy combined huge suspended flies overlooking bright rainbow costumes and totally out-there choreography. The final piece, Rooster is set to music from the Rolling Stones and themed in black and red with dimmed lighting. Such an amazing dedication to movement and the power of discipline and control....wow

grand satire in the Grand Budapest Hotel

Wes Anderson's latest film, the Grand Budapest Hotel, stars Ralph Fiennes as a hotel concierge in 1940's Budapest. As the self-obsessed Gustave H, he attracts wealthy women to an indulgent lifestyle, while training and delegating tasks to the new bellboy, aptly named Zero. So the film alternates between a contemporary recounting of the time where Gustave was told of his inheritance of a fairly naive painting of a boy with apple, and many lush flashbacks. The imminent war was a minor irritant to the glorious snatching of this painting, followed by Gustave being caught, sent to prison camp, and of course the breakout and lots of rather unusual chase scenes. It is a magnificent and satirical escape...

Hope vs challenge in The Book Thief

I had heard friends and critics rave about this film when it opened in Brisbane in January. The book, written by Markus Zusak, as a tribute to his German mother and Austrian father is an international bestseller, having been translated into 40 languages. Yet the cinema was almost empty in its first week in Oxford as the local UK critics canned this film. Why? ignorance, politics or bad timing??? anyway, its their loss... This is a moving and multi-layered film. It is uniquely introduced by death himself, who seems to live above the clouds. As Leisl is adopted for money into a childless Bavarian family, there is clear tension between the stern mother Rosa, played by Emily Watson and her new dad Hans, played by Geoffrey Rush, who gently eases her into the harsh family life. It quickly becomes apparent that Leisl has stolen a book from the gravediggers at her brother's funeral, in order to learn to read. Hans makes this task fun and her new love of words is reinforced by her delicate brotherly relationship with the family's hidden jewish boy, Max. It is more complex and dynamic than just a different version of Anne Frank or just another Nazi drama! Because Liesl has faced the early death of her brother, she is prepared to take massive risks for life and somehow she shares this with the young Aryan Rudy, who is an ardent admirer and a loyal friend. As she learns to read, she uses literature as an escape from the daily challenges of war. Of course this movie cannot have a happy ending, but there is a sense of enduring hope that is genuinely regenerative.

Richard Deacon at Tate Britain

In this great short video, sculptor Richard Deacon says ‘I don’t carve, I don’t model. I fabricate'. As a result, his work is mesmerising; firstly I was caught by his design - was it symmetrical or just well balanced; then there was colour, contrasts, texture...and finally as I approached and walked around each piece I became absorbed by how he could ever have created it!

At a distance his wooden creations capture movement in a real and grounded way, but up close, the wood is twisted and curved in ways that are almost impossible. The more I looked at each piece the more I saw contrasts between form and space, light and dark, curves and angles and in the juxtaposition of wood and metal. I loved the curves of layered and laminated wood, woven stainless steel, curvaceous terracotta, bolted aluminium and glazed angular shapes, and I felt a deep satisfaction of something complete and integral. The pieces were so large and well displayed in the Tate Britain space, that I felt uplifted and energised by this amazing exhibition.

Richard Hamilton at Tate Modern

I could not miss this retrospective of almost 70 years, by the father of pop art, Richard Hamilton. It was good to see that Tate already owned quite a few pieces, and their curation and audioguide were definitely educational. I found out later, that he was born in 1922 in Pimlico to a not particularly artistic family. His drawing skills were noted early but it seemed that he also had a strong eye for science, mathematics and design.

In defining Pop Art as: popular, transient, expendable, low-cost, mass-produced, young, witty, sexy, gimmicky, glamorous, and Big Business, he emphasised the importance of everyday post-war consumerism. Rather than focus on single products like Andy Warhol did, he used collage to mix and match in fairly random ways - both in 2 and 3 dimensions. Later he seemed to experiment with completing and saving several versions of his key themes. He also started working with photography and it seemed that the message became more important than the medium. His work adopted a political tone and he was critical of Thatcherism, IRA prisoners, Tony Blair's war decisions, the sweeping control of Israel and the search for the perfect nude. Overall, this was a very comprehensive exhibition of a very capable artist whose interest in architecture and design includes objects as diverse as the Guggenheim Museum in New York and a classic Braun toaster.