Belfast, Branagh and the power of a great movie soundtrack

Last week on our radio show I properly overdosed on Kenneth Branagh’s Oscar-nominated film Belfast.  There are legions of reasons why I loved it.

There were the heart-warming moments of innocence as a grim time in our recent history was told through the eyes of Buddy, a really sound 9-year old kid, played with such grace by Jude Hill. 

It reminded me of Hope and Glory, John Boorman’s 1987 film about the home front of the second world war, and Empire of the Sun, another child’s eye view of the fall of Shanghai. 

Belfast created a similar vibe, through the black and white styling in Branagh’s directing, and in the peerless acting performances from young and old alike. Dame Judi Dench and Ciaran Hinds deservedly have Oscar nominations.

Then there was the music. Most of the atmosphere was created through clever inclusions of a clutch of fantastic Van Morrison songs throughout the film.

But there are also songs which tell a story all of their own about Buddy’s favourite shows on the small television he watched space films and westerns, notably Tex Ritter’s High Noon and Real Love by Ruby Murray, who I had forgotten was a significant musical presence as well as being rhyming slang for a curry.   

One scene, in particular, captured the deep love within the family, when Pa (the ludicrously handsome Jamie Dornan) sings the sixties banger Everlasting Love to Ma (the outrageously striking Caitriona Balfe).

That song has been used in a film before, Jamie Cullum’s version popped up in Bridget Jones Diary. Let’s just say it didn’t have the same impact as the original version used in Belfast by yet another of those sixties British pop music underachievers, Love Affair.

On our show recently we were discussing the best film soundtracks of all time.

Quentin Tarantino routinely pulls together amazing collections which always went down in the 1990s in the golden age of CDs. Pulp Fiction, Kill Bill and Jackie Brown soundtracks are amongst the best. 

Similarly, David Lynch films are as much about aura as what your eyes see before you. Blue Velvet, Twin Peaks and Lost Highway are incredibly rich in a powerful musical. 

Neil is clear there is no film with a better Official Soundtrack than Martin Scorcese's 1998 epic Casino. Spanning generations it places the audience slap bang in the decadent seventies of Roxy Music, Fleetwood Mac and the Moody Blues, but also with a rhythmic nod to the greats of jazz, blues and soul. 

To ram home the point, this weekend’s show will open with a tune from the very best film music composer of all time was Enrico Morricone, who became best known for the musical score to spaghetti western The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, but who’s long life achieved hit after hit and legendary status. In 2007, a tribute album We All Love Ennio Morricone featured performances by artists as diverse as Andrea Bocelli, Celine Dion, Bruce Springsteen and Metallica.

After that I’ve also got Jimmy Cliff’s The Harder They Come to share with you, a song so closely associated with a film it’s not clear which came first.

(column from the Tameside Reporter and Glossop Chronicle).

 

Don't Look Up is flawed, but great fun and a savage satire for our times

The film that’s got everybody talking at the start of the year has been Don’t Look Up.

The central premise - the high concept - is that there’s a meteorite heading for the earth that’s going to wipe out civilisation. The scientists who spot this are rushed to the White House to brief the President so the powers that be can prepare for, or prevent, this apocalypse. 

The rest of the film is a parable for how science is trivialised, weaponised and manipulated. The obvious parallels are with climate change and the current pandemic.

It’s certainly been popular. It smashed streaming records with more than 152 million hours streamed around the world in a single week, according to Netflix.

It’s stuffed full of A-list megastars who all pull off superb if overblown performances, especially Jennifer Lawrence and Leonardo DiCaprio as the scientists and Cate Blancett as a randy TV presenter.

The music is also sensational. From the original score by Nicholas Britell (who also did the music on my favourite TV show, Succession), a new song specially recorded for the film by Ariane Grande (Just Look Up) to the beautiful Second Nature by Bon Iver used at the end, right through to the inclusion of the Four Tops classic Bernadette. It is a masterclass in how to use music in a film.   

Yet the movie seems to have really divided opinion - and there have been lots of views expressed already - so let me get my stance out there early: I loved it.

Sure, if you overthink it there is plenty to pick it apart. It’s massively irritating for the usual American exceptionalism that runs through so many Hollywood movies, even ones where the whole plight of the planet is in peril. Like, the whole story is still told as if the only country in the world is America. Yet even this obvious niggle is turned into another layer of satire.

Then there’s the charge that the central character of President Janie Orlean, played by Meryl Streep, is just a crude caricature of Donald Trump. It is. She is. President Orlean is a narcissistic bully, in thrall to big tech, manipulating a supporter base. What else can she be?

British actor Mark Rylance plays a powerful tech tycoon who is socially awkward, downright rude and ruthlessly convinced of his own immortality and superior abilities. Again, the parallels with Elon Musk and Jeff Bezos are plain to see.

But if you think it’s just an attack on easy targets no one really gets off the hook  I liked the way the liberal media - a clear parody of the New York Times - lose interest in the biggest story in the world because of the missed opportunity to use it to attack the President close the mid-term elections.

So much of the film is so frighteningly close to the bone. Just see the reaction of the current media during any serious discussion on climate change. Piers Morgan hectors people about car use, Richard Madeley tries to pick at the reputation of Sir David Attenborough, while Talk Radio’s Mike Graham trying to claim concrete can be organic to a carpenter is probably the most egregious example of dumbing down any serious discussion about the real science behind climate change.

Even here in Greater Manchester, 20,000 people have signed a petition against a clean air zone charge aimed at discouraging tax polluting vehicles. No government is prepared to make any serious attempt to price air travel properly. The popularity of Don’t Look Up suggests many of us recognise that we are sleepwalking towards a disaster, but then isn’t Greta Thunberg annoying? 

(Column from the Glossop Chronicle and Tameside Reporter, 14 January 2022)

The Saying Yes to Everything Tour - an update

I mentioned a while ago that me and my wife Rachel and Neil and his wife, Rachael, are on something of a say yes to anything tour.

This blog is a slightly updated version of my weekly column in the Tameside Reporter and Glossop Chronicle for the end of November. 

Having been locked down for the best part of two years has made us really appreciate the things we were denied for so long. There’s a real sense out there that many of you feel the same way. 

Concerts, comedy nights, talks, festivals, exhibitions, films, restaurants and bars, sporting events, walks in the hills. You name it, we’ve been on it. And yet we still have massive FOMO (Fear of Missing Out) when we see other people going to things we wish we’d gone to.

Out of this darkness, some real moments of magic have appeared and I wanted to share a few of them with you. Hopefully, they’ll encourage you to get out a bit and see what might happen.

Just to give you a flavour for this, we bumped into Andy Burnham, the Mayor of Greater Manchester, last weekend. Neil had interviewed the Mayor a few weeks before for a film he made for the clothing brand Pretty Green. There was a competition to “meet the designers behind the brand” and get a discount voucher for some lucky winners. It turned out that it was actually a chance to hang out with Liam Gallagher.

Andy told us that he’d been at three gigs in a row last week - The Jesus & Mary Chain, Paul Weller, and Billy Bragg, who we featured on last week’s Music Therapy. One thing the Mayor has consistently done is support venues and give a helping hand to emerging artists across the area. One of the bands he trumpeted, Wigan’s The Lathums, supported Weller in Liverpool last Friday.

Apparently, I’ve been mispronouncing their name when I’ve introduced their tunes on Tameside Radio. This Sunday night I’ll get it right. Thanks, Mr Mayor.

Incidentally, it was brilliant to learn that the Modfather gave a support slot at his Llandudno gig last Saturday to the Tameside troubadour, Cobain Jones. What a lovely thing to do and by all accounts, Cobain absolutely rocked the North Wales audience.

We saw a similar act of generosity last Wednesday at the Plaza Theatre in Stockport. Top comic Jason Manford sold out this show two years ago, but only now has he been able to fulfil the date, even if it did clash with Stockport County’s FA Cup replay conquering of Bolton Wanderers, it was still packed. He didn’t have to, but he gave a support slot to Denton comedian Stephen Bailey, who was really good.

Neil had also seen a raucous event over in Wigan featuring Shaun Ryder from the Happy Mondays, interviewed in front of an audience of fans. The MC for the evening was Neil’s mate Brian Cannon, the graphic designer who did such iconic artwork for the album covers for Oasis and The Verve. Brian had his work cut out as his plan to steer a conversation gently was taken over by a local crowd who shouted out their own questions and Shaun answered the ones he wanted to. Pretty fitting really.

By way of contrast, we saw the writer David Hepworth at the Louder Than Words Festival in Manchester, promoting his book about British artists breaking through in America, Overpaid, Oversexed and Over There. This is a man who knows all about artists going off-script. It was David who famously interviewed Bob Geldof during Live Aid when the Boomtown Rat banged the table and urged the people at home to, er, donate a bit more money!

No such chaos at the Innside Hotel in Manchester last week, but we learnt a stream of fascinating stories. Not least that the first words that an American audience heard from The Beatles in 1964 were - Close Your Eyes and I’ll Kiss You. And boy, America certainly did.

Post script to this is we braved the wilds and drove over to Liverpool to see two delightful performances from two artists I've really got to appreciate in the last year. Jane Weaver was the support for Saint Etienne, a band I've always quite liked but never fully bought into previously. I'll have to try and think about what that might be.

Here's another resolution, I'm going to start adding the column here on this blog every Friday. Just to cross-reference it, and maybe be a bit assiduous about adding reviews of things we've done and places we've been.

Saint Etienne - I've Been Trying To Tell You - Official Trailer

We went to the film premiere of Saint Etienne's new album last week, followed by a delightful Q&A with the band's Bob Stanley and the film maker Alasdair McLellan. 

Jason Wood from Home is very good at this, and not only asks the questions you want him to, but brings his own passions and knowledge to the conversation. It feels very natural and comfortable.

Bob Stanley has to be one of the most interesting men in pop music, constantly experimenting and delving into his love of pop culture. Maybe I'm biased, but I think it's because he's basically a journalist. 

I like the story told by Alasdair McLellan, a fashion photographer of some standing, that they started with one idea and settled on another, partly constricted by lockdowns and practicalities of the band having to record remotely. "When we met, we found we shared so much in common – after all, Saint Etienne’s music has always conjured beautiful images for me and influenced my own visual style – the project became something bigger."

There's something very Balaeric about the new album, lots of dreamy loops and smart samples. The intent is to create a melancholic sense of longing - nostalgia, as Bob correctly said on the night, is a disease - but this is some tonic.

The film features lots of implausibly beautiful young people hanging out together, intended to make you half-remember your own summers gone by. It's all stitched together like a strange road trip around Britain: from Southampton to Portmeirion to Blackpool to Grangemouth to Scunthorpe to London.

I'm not sure how you get to see the film at the cinema now, but the whole package of the album, vinyl, booklet, is available in all kinds of gorgeousness, here.

Muscle and the menace of Craig Fairbrass

A few years ago (here) I made a confession that my guilty pleasure was British gangster films. Not just the good ones, but the rank bad ones too. The good ones are really very good and stand on their own as great British dramatic films, irrespective of the criminal content - Long Good Friday, Get Carter, Layer Cake, in particular, because they help us to understand Britain in a time and place, as well as being compelling stories; far more than the Lock Stock geezer flicks of the 1990s. But it’s the straight-to-DVD, formulaic, sweaty, expletive-laden, violent, ludicrous and overblown films of the burgeoning genre that fascinate me. The Rise of the Footsoldier franchise is now at stage five, and I am genuinely looking forward to seeing how Craig Fairbrass rinses the story of the Essex Range Rover murders even more, in his muscular menacing portrayal of Pat Tate, by all accounts a horrible bully undeserving of his cult status.

There’s a great piece from the Guardian in 2015 here that gives some insight into the economics of these films, popular with a male demographic. I’d be fascinated to see the data behind the algorithm-driven commissioning of Netflix and Prime Video, because even with declining DVD sales there still seems to be an active market for more of this stuff. 

But the one constant that makes many otherwise dire films compelling and edgy is the presence of Craig Fairbrass, who is also fiercely aware of his own persona and how he’s become the go-to big guy. I’m thinking here of two films centred on errant brothers with Fairbrass as the bigger scarier sibling, Villain and Avengement. He not only looks the part, whenever he's cast in roles like these but knows how to act.

Yes, the point of this preamble is a proper and deserving tribute to the under-appreciated and possibly underrated talent of Craig Fairbrass. It's time to say this because of one of the most unsettling and atmospheric films I’ve seen in a long while. Gerard Johnson’s Muscle is a gruelling deep dive into the crisis in masculinity, with Cavan Clerkin’s central character of Simon drawn in by the intimidating charisma of Fairbrass’s Terry, who he meets down at the gym. Things escalate badly, and never reach a satisfactory or obvious conclusion. The high point is the claustrophobic menace that Fairbrass brings to every scene he’s in. You can’t just do that by direction and set design, but by proper acting. 

And that’s my way of saying, by the way, that Muscle is very stylishly directed and designed by Gerard Johnson, gifted the support of his brother Matt from the band The The, and their mesmerising contribution to the score of the song I WANT 2 B U. Gerard Johnson's previous film Hyena was grim, effectively and deliberately, but by shooting Muscle in black and white he took it up a notch. Shifting the action to Newcastle, it also included a cast of extras that looked so authentically seedy you could practically smell them. 

As for the rest of the genre, I genuinely don't want the conveyer belt of geezers and grafters to ever stop. I want more Footsoldiers, follow-ups to The Business, I want JJ Connolly's Viva La Madness, I want gangs, drugs, hitmen, geezers and old lags still doing it the old way. But after Muscle I think what I really want is Craig Fairbrass to get a few more breaks and directors to take risks to get the very best out of a fine acting talent and lift this genre to greater creative heights.

hat tip: Neil and Macca.

Long Live the Regent Cinema Marple

One of our particular local Marple treasures is the Regent Cinema. Since it reopened we've made an effort to go as much as we can. It first operated as a cinema in 1931, and I for one will do everything I can to see it celebrate its centenary.

I hadn't appreciated that the operator of the cinema, David Lillis, had been doing so uninterrupted for 52 years. It is a wonderful, comfortable, time-shifting experience. I learned from the website that since April 2020, David decided to retire from the managerial position and handed the baton over to Edwin Gnanaprkasam. Before taking over as the managing director, Edwin had been learning about the business and assisting David Lillis in the cinema for 5 years since 2014. During this time, he developed an enthusiasm to carry on the legacy. He's doing a great job.

It so deserves your support and totally has ours. 

This is at a time when some aspects of the modern leisure industry seem to be pricing themselves in a whole new category of chiselling and money-grubbing. Chief culprits are Center Parcs, festivals and cinema chains.  You know that it's true when observational comedians are all over the larceny that is pick and mix, popcorn or hot dog prices.

Forgive me then that I get giddy with joy when I buy a perfectly manageable carton of popcorn for a quid at the Regent, and some M&Ms and a can of pop for the same, after parting with no more than a fiver to see a film. Stopping the film in the middle to serve ice cream is also the most civilised thing you can do, just ahead of only charging a quid for a choc ice or a wee tub.

The Guardian did a review of the Regent in 2013 which captures the place very well, that it still feels so welcoming and has the same reliable lovable quirks is a great testimony to how Edwin is doing under David's guidance. But equally, I love too that they've embraced online booking now.

There's a certain type of film that seems very appropriate to the whole experience and target demographic of the place and I reckon "Peak Regent" would be The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel. Whenever we see a trailer for a film featuring any of the cast from that - Celia Imrie, Bill Nighy, Ronald Pickup, Maggie Smith, Tom Wilkinson, Dev Patel - we just say, "that'll be on at the Regent".

It's like an extension of the Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon game. The closer you get to members of that cast, the more likely it's a Regent type film.

The last two films we saw there were the Cold War epic The Courier, starring Benedict Cumberbatch, then The Last Bus with Timothy Spall. Both were very, very strong central performances. The Last Bus lost its way with some overdone hammy cliches which even The Guardian thought was overblown woke.

But do you know what? I don't care. I've long been of the view that not every book and film or record has to be amazing to be appreciated, sometimes it makes you just think about the process, the integrity, the compromises, the ways in which an artist can learn from one piece of art and make the next one even better, and improve your own critical faculties when you next see something brilliant. 

Long live the Regent.

Review - 'Life of a Mountain: Helvellyn' by Terry Abraham

In fairly short order we were treated to the BBC showing all three of Terry Abraham's films in his series Life of a Mountain, the latest being A Year On Helvellyn. Although this is the most recent addition to his series of stunning films about the mountains of the Lake District we didn't watch them in strict order. First we watched the Scafell Pike film from 2014, then the latest one, and then last night finally completed  the trilogy with the return to BBC4 of A Year on Blencathra from 2017. I loved how all of the interviewees were so passionate and eloquent, how they seemed to be just in conversation, rather than being interviewed. That takes a particular skill. They are in no way tourist films, but are deeply respectful of the everyday lives of people in the Lake District and their relationship with all three mountains and their different characteristics. Terry has clearly got better and better as a film maker and developed a sense of what worked from the first two, so much so that I would almost militantly urge anyone who hasn't seen any of them to view them in the correct order - Scafell Pike, Blencathra, Helvellyn - and see how they reach a peak of their own. A spiritual dimension definitely populated the first two, but deeper historical and social context seeped into the Blencathra film (as well as more music), but Helvellyn had the right blend of everything (and less music).

My own relationship with the Lake District is lifelong and I love it deeply. My Mum is from there, my Grandma spent time in the sanatorium on Blencathra when she conducted TB, and I've probably had more holidays there than anywhere else. For all of that my run rate on its mountains isn't great - I've hiked up a dozen, no more. I went up Catbells and Skiddaw in October last year (not on the same day) and still feel quite emotional about how much I enjoyed doing so, and with the friends I did it with, at a time we now look back on as a false dawn, when we all felt lockdown was easing. These films have drawn me ever closer to these mountains as I'm sure they will for you too. And I think we'll do so more respectfully, more sensitively and with an enormous sense of gratitude that it is possible. Thank you Terry Abraham.

Immersed in the Wild

 

We were only only six years late to this, but the best film we saw in 2020 was Wild, based on the true story by Cheryl Strayed, brilliantly adapted by Nick Hornby, and with an awesome performance by Reese Witherspoon as Cheryl.

At times it was a tough watch, seeing Cheryl's heartbreak and descent, but if you'd seen the trailer (above) and knew the back story, you'd already priced that in. What made it all the more remarkable was the atmosphere it generated, helped along by the scenery of the Pacific Crest Trail that she walked, but also the music. It's taken me down a Grateful Dead, Simon & Garfunkel and Leonard Cohen rabbit hole which we've played a bit of on our Music Therapy programme. 

The book is also on order, but I might wait before getting some Danner boots.

The Three Kings - another outstanding and ambitious sporting documentary from Jonny Owen

I'm really looking forward to seeing The Three Kings documentary about the lives of Jock Stein, Bill Shankly and Matt Busby, all former miners from the Scottish coalfields who shaped the destiny and identities of Glasgow, Liverpool and Manchester. There's been a bit of a buzz around at work about it because it features footage from the North West Film Archive, but I'm particularly pleased for the director Jonny Owen, who has form in this emerging genre of storytelling.

The first of his films I saw was the high energy celebration of Brian Clough's Nottingham Forest winning the European Cup, I Believe in Miracles. It's a wonderfully warm and inclusive tale, and you can tell that the players enjoyed their interviews and encounters with Jonny. The funky soundtrack added something really special too, evoking the rhythms of that team and the refreshing way they broke the mould.

Next up was Don't Take Me Home, which blended behind the scenes footage with the fan experience of Wales at the European Championships in 2016. It wasn't just about the football, it can never just be about the football, and sometimes it takes someone with drive to tell that story, someone who gets it. Me and my eldest lad Joe met Jonny in London just after he'd got back from France and was putting the film together. I know I go on about people I've met and bore the arse off you all with my namedropping but he really struck me then as a very special talent. We only recorded a podcast together, with our mutual friend Mark Webster, but I've not heard anything since that contradicted that view I formed in the space of that afternoon together.  He's not only compellingly passionate about the things that really matter to him, but also hyper aware of how sport forms cultural and emotional bonds between people, way beyond the field of play. His background in the South Wales valleys also forms his frame of reference, rather than the baggage of the place he's escaped from, as many other film makers and artists often define themselves. 

As well as the historical footage that he's pulled together with the help of Will McTaggart at the archive, the film also includes musical contributions from, amongst others, Richard Hawley, the musician and songwriter from Sheffield who feels like an incredibly good fit for this project. 

Sporting documentaries can be a bit hit and miss, like musical ones, as I found with the unexpected delights of the Style Council Long Hot Summers film on Sky Arts. It takes effort, access and a burning passion for the subject. I don't normally do enthusiastic previews, but this will be a banger, I guarantee it. 

POST SCRIPT: I’ve seen it now and it’s absolutely magnificent in every way, I particularly enjoyed a cameo by Granada TV cub reporter Tony Wilson in 1974. It's available on Apple TV, Prime and Showtime, and DVD. I would happily go and see it again in a cinema when they reopen.

The Passing - more Welsh noir, if you know your history

Severn Screen's The Passing

I tend to go down these cultural rabbit holes. After watching Severn Screen's second season of the excellent Hidden (Craith, in Welsh), I was drawn to this feature length 'horror' written a few years earlier by Ed Talfan, producer of Hinterland and Hidden, and a particularly gruesome historical horror film The Apostle from 2018.

The trailer suggested it was going to be a horror film, I think. The premise being that it starts with a lonely man tending to a run down farm, building a well. He's played by Mark Lewis Jones, a Welsh actor of some stature, who brought real presence recently to both his part as Steve Baldini in Keeping Faith and as Prince Charles' Welsh language tutor, Edward Millward in The Crown. There is a sense of foreboding and a tragic, hidden menace, but as the story goes on you're sure the gentle giant Lewis Jones' Stanley is just that, but that the young man and the woman he's pulled from a crashed car have something they're running from.

All of the spoken dialogue is in Welsh, but it's also sparse and packed full of non-verbal tension, with just the three actors, the couple played by Annes Elwy from Hidden, and Dyfan Swyfor who stars in S4C's Bang, which is now on my list. Yet for all of the uncertain undercurrents of tragedy and loss, The Passing is a remarkably tender and reflective story. There are a couple of dark twists that I can't even begin to hint at, but by the end of it (and I'd worked it out), you realise it's a work of quiet allegorical genius. Like many of the other projects that Talfan and his cohort are creating, it's a body of work that not only tells the stories of the people of Wales, that lets the landscape play an important central part, but does so in knowing and critical solidarity. It's far more ambitious in that regard than just Scandi Noir, Welsh style, unless of course I'm missing something cultural there too.

Should I pay any attention to reviews on IMDb? I was surprised it wasn't higher rated, but those who just didn't get it seemed to really hate it. Yes, there are things that happen that are improbable, impossible, inexplicable. That's the point. All I'll say is this: Cofiwch Drywern.  So if you know what that means, fine, if you don't, that's not fine and you probably ought to read more. Coming up next, a review of this important book I've gone back to and finished by this guy. Isolation rabbit holes, eh?

Mystify Michael Hutchence - terribly sad

Mystify Michael Hutchence is a terribly, terribly sad film.  We all know how it ends for the INXS front man, but the build up to the conclusion is still a compelling tale. For all its sorrow, it is sensitively put together by the film maker Richard Lowenstein, who made their beautiful video in Prague for their standout breakthrough hit Never Tear Us Apart, the right mix of celebration and lamentation.

But while it is a hugely impressive visual achievement, it is still somehow stylistically and gloriously messy, and eschews the talking head style of documentary in favour of a mixture of home movie clips, concert footage and splices in archive material which focuses relentlessly on Michael, pretty much like the image of INXS in their heyday. None of it makes Michael any less striking, or the film less of a spectacle.

As a generation of music fans we’re not short of tragic stories of those troubled tortured geniuses who burn out and leave us too soon. From my own musical sphere I have the works of David McComb, Kurt Cobain and Ian Curtis to look back on for that early glimpse of their startling careers and wonder what might else have been.

Hutch was different. He always had a vivid star quality that far exceeded the musical reach of his decent hard working rock band. When I lived in Perth in the late 80s he was considered cool and iconic even if the rest of the band wasn't. I was won over by his live presence at the Perth International Arena on the Kick tour in 1988, a crescendo to a marathon 18 month global slog, and considered myself a fan and stuck with them. Journalists and other mates who knew him also had stories of his generosity, kindness and capacity for hard work and hard partying.

But this film isn't really about his musical legacy - did he have one? - but the story of the relationships of a global rock star. His family, the band members, and the women. How a warm, beautiful man, went from one mad passionate relationship to another, usually with gorgeous global superstars, but starting with his first love Michele, who inspired the sentiment of Never Tear Us Apart, and was the last person to speak to him before he died. You occasionally hear it said that someone at their height of their fame ‘could have anyone he wanted’ but in Michael’s case he could. After seeing the video for the Chris Isaak song Wicked Game, Michael asked the director to introduce him to the star of it, the world’s most desirable supermodel, Helena Christiansen, and asked her out. And that was on the rebound from Kylie Minogue!

Though the inquest into his death in a Sydney hotel room in 1997 recorded a verdict of likely suicide, it was contested by his grieving widow Paula Yates, who herself died of a heroin overdose a few years later. What the film reveals in a testimony from Helena is that he suffered a brain injury after being punched in the head in Copenhagen in 1992 and was never the same again. He lost his sense of smell, had no taste, and suffered mood swings and blackouts. And as Kylie says elsewhere in the film: “Sex, love, food, drugs, music, travel, books, you name it, he wanted to experience it.”

It’s hard to say whether the film advances a theory or closes a book. I’d say it tells one aspect of his life. There’s a further mystery over his money, some of it revealed in the leaked Paradise Papers, that his assets were held in offshore trusts and companies, out of the reach of his immediate family and intended beneficiaries. You also come away with the feeling reinforced that the entertainment industry can be cruel, the pressures to sustain success, or deal with a fall from the summit, enormous.

I found the film sobering and hard to watch. But for all the trappings of fame and fortune it all comes back down to what really matters in the end. Love. Love for your family. Love for yourself.

The Long Good Friday - a timely revisit

(Rex Features)

Good Friday seemed like a good day to rewatch one of my favourite British films, The Long Good Friday.

I still regard it as Bob Hoskins' finest performance, displaying an immense range of emotions and behaviours over a turbulent two days for gangland kingpin Harold Shand; be that perception and confusion, humour and menace, or ultimately power and vulnerability. Helen Mirren brings far greater substance to her role as his wife than many leading female performers are afforded in the gangster genre that was inspired by it.

I love that it was written by a journalist from the Stratford Express, Barrie Keeffe, who filled his tapestry of London 1970s life with characters and observations informed by keeping a wily eye on the East End crime beat, daring to dream of dramatic possibilities and emotional shortcomings of his source supporting characters; greedy, sneaky and short-sighted.

Although The Long Good Friday feels like a film firmly fixed in a very particular time and place it is in so many ways a film about the future, complete with the lamentations of the elements of the past that are being sacrificed. In particular, Harold Shand's vision of a new London is remarkable for its accuracy and vision, tainted though it was by hooky money and corrupt politicians.

(Rex Features)

If anything the film underestimated the long term future potential of the regenerated East London of Harold's ambition. But as I'm sure Jack Brown's PhD thesis on the rise of Canary Wharf will no doubt reveal, those early ideas were real enough and firmly rooted in the reality of the rhythms of political life at the time. The film was released in 1980, while Michael Heseltine created the London Docklands Development Corporation a year later.

The Long Good Friday has inspired an explosive genre of British crime films, most of them laughably bad because they come up so short. In fairness, some have been very good but for different reasons: Lock Stock played largely for laughs, Snatch for style, Crying Game and Mona Lisa were impressive subplots to the big picture. But it’s also why I was so disappointed by BBC's dull and plodding McMafia which missed a chance to slot into an epoch defining high concept. I'd say Sexy Beast and possibly Layer Cake (also featuring a future James Bond) grasp the changing back story of London villains, the latter depicting the collisions between the legitimate corporations and the internationalisation of the drug trade and its game changing effects on crime and society, Michael Gambon playing Harold gone legitimate, but still with a stake in the game. As good as Sexy Beast is, as a commentary it feels like a retreat.

And then there's that ending. Having dispatched the New York Mafia with a flea in their ear, that last journey before the single frame of black (Sopranos fans take note) contains some of the most expressive facial acting I can think of in any film ever.

An unbearable but beautiful film - The Hard Way - Annapurna South Face (1970)

This incredible film documents the first ascent of the very difficult South Face of Annapurna, a huge Himalayan wall that the right team could achieve the seemingly impossible. It features my Mum's friend Ian Clough who perished in the expedition and for that reason it's unbearable to watch at times. 

These are the notes I found on YouTube. Everything about the lo-fi film and exhibition leaves you in awe.

"The ascent of the South Face of Annapurna in 1970 was one of those breakthrough ascents - both technically and psychologically. Chris Bonington assembled the cream of British mountaineering and American Tom Frost for the attempt. The documentary is punctuated by wry observation, understatement and cutting humour from a by-gone age when the game of taking huge risks was matched by a determination not to take it too seriously. The summit triumph leads to unexpected tragedy, a common theme in the Himalayas, but never told more poignantly as in the classic film."

Link: I reviewed a book about one of the characters on the expedition, Don Whillans, here.

Featuring: Chris Bonington, Martin Boysen, Mike Burke, Ian Clough, Nick Escourt, Tom Frost, Dougal Haston, Mike Thompson, Don Whillans

Director: John Edwards

Producers: John Edwards

Duration: 55 minutes

File Sizes: SD (format 4:3) 1.2GB

Released: 1971

Best Climbing Film -- Trento Mountain Film Festival 1971.

T2 - nostalgia ain't what it used to be

Last year we saw the Stone Roses, New Order and James at emotional and celebratory events held in cathedrals of praise to the god's of our past. Last night I indulged in more of the same with a swim through the messy memories of the last twenty years since Trainspotting hit the screen.

Danny Boyle has a sure touch for what's current and able to make an emotional connection with his audience. That Olympic opening ceremony captured it beautifully. So it's no exaggeration to say the whole exercise of T2, aimed at the right here and right now, is far more than moving the story of Edinburgh junkies along.

It's a film full of Easter "Road" Eggs - knowing references and in-jokes - Hibs shirts, posters and references are in virtually every scene, as are constant flashbacks, references and retellings of the original story, so much so that one of our lads who hadn't seen Trainspotting found it incomprehensible at times. Also, Edinburgh as a changed city plays a far more prominent role than the more claustrophobic environment portrayed in the original. It's a casual but important acknowledgement that you notice the world beyond your immediate gaze as your own mortality hits mid-life.

Like New Order ending their 2016 set with a montage of Ian Curtis images and their own version of Love Will Tear Us Apart, T2 is splattered with its own indulgences - Irvine Welsh pops up again - and though I had to look it up, there's a cameo by a gangster character that's the equivalent of a backing vocal from one of the Happy Mondays at a Stone Roses gig.

It's a good film, an enjoyable journey, with differing versions of the way the story could be told competing with one another. My favourite three scenes were the scamming of a Loyalist social club in Glasgow (original), the meeting of Renton and Begbie in adjacent toilet cubicles (well shot) and the ending (won't spoil it).

The best and most important character in the film is Veronika, the Bulgarian "friend" of Simon, or "Sick Boy". She tells the others they are tourists in their past, while she has no past worth recalling, so only has a future. It's the line that defines the film and almost every detail of it.

Stranger Things on Netflix - a word to the bad guy

One of the great delights of parenting is sharing your personal predilections with your offspring. I'm lucky, blessed and flattered that I have "something" to share with all my lads. And the real thrill is how much more knowledgeable and better at the things I like they are; to pick a few - football, geography and, as I discovered at the weekend, film criticism.

So, the youngest and I sat down and binged on Stranger Things on Netflix over the weekend. It's a masterclass in tributes and "Easter eggs" to so many threads and genres. Small town America teen films, either romances or horror films, dark conspiracies, the supernatural, even Winona Ryder herself. It shouldn't work, but it does. There's a piece here in the NME that lists the references.

But it's Matthew Modine's depiction of the creepy CIA scientist that stood out for me. In one of those performances where the presence is far more dominant than his screen time suggests, he casts not so much a brooding shadow, but leaves his bad smell of incompetent menace everywhere, not least in the flashbacks of Eleven, the tortured child.

As I've reached the ripe old age of 50 I've seen the different types of bad guy come and go - mafia, Soviets, Nazis, despots, Colombian drug lords and now the one almost guaranteed to get a loud boo from the stalls, a government conspirator. Even though I wholly sign up to the cock-up theory over conspiracy every time, it's a reassuring anchor in any modern thriller. That said, over the last year I've quietly plodded through most of the Jack Reacher books. Lee Child has an uncanny talent for creating even more unpredictable and curious villains, the predictability is Reacher's way of dealing with them.

But unpredictability was never part of the Stranger Things playbook, increasingly we are given a nod to all that we know, whether it's true or not.

David Bowie's Life on Mars in Lars von Trier's Breaking The Waves

It is almost 20 years since I sat, tears streaming down my cheeks towards the end of one of the most raw, devastating and emotionally draining films I've ever seen. Then, at a crucial crux in the film's harrowing conclusion came this. Life on Mars by David Bowie, written in 1971. Genius.

Getting stuff done - a week of substance, over and style

If you get the chance go and look around one of the Youth Zones in the North West. You can't just drop in, these are safe places for young people. But go and talk to the volunteers and fundraisers about the outcomes of the work they do, but also how humbling and personally beneficial it has been to everyone who has been involved.

I spent the morning at the Bolton Lads and Girls Club with Nick Hopkinson (pictured), who is a real force of nature. An entrepreneur, adventurer and fund raiser, he spends 80 per cent of his time "messing about and raising money" travelling the world while doing so and shining a great amount of light into this part of Bolton.

Substance

I'll be writing this up for Onside magazine, which I produce for my client Seneca, a business with real substance, incredible reach and deep humility amongst its team members. This was demonstrated in spades two weekends ago when a gang of them romped through Delamere Forest together in the Hellrunner half marathon, raising a chunk of money for the Bolton club. These exercises work on so many levels, yes, the funds for the kids of Bolton, but also the togetherness and greater sense of mission that doing something this engenders.

This connection to the values of a charity is particularly important at a time when Kids Co is being pored over and charities have undoubtedly suffered reputational damage through aggressive fund raising, high salaries and a lack of accountability.

Style

We went to see the new James Bond film on Monday. It was a rare full family outing to something we could all enjoy. Two things stood out. One was the fact that SPECTRE is like a James Bond Greatest Hits tour. The whole band back together for a huge rally for the true fans. The opening scene with skull masks was a top hat tipped towards Live and Let Die, and so it flowed. Secondly, I was struck by how dominant Daniel Craig was in every single shot. He was styled, choreographed, poised and dressed like each scene was a commercial or a pop video. His walk, his every look was an exercise in making the job of his successor an impossible one.

One of my own obsessions is with classic British clothing brands - John Smedley, Clarks, Loakes and the one that was featured in the film to luxurious effect, Sunspel. I love the well made crafted simplicity of their shirts and underwear. They produced the boxer shorts that Nick Kamen wore in the famous Levis laundrette commercial in the 1980s and changed how men dressed down below.

Over

This week has mostly been about getting over the crushing disappointment of the derby day defeat in the East Lancashire t'classico to Burnley. It's never good to lose a game like this, but all we can really do is remind ourselves for those thirty odd years when we were dominant we had a league title, a cup and two promotions to show for it. I can't imagine how unbearable that must have been for them. There is absolutely no danger that our claret cousins will achieve anything like that level of success. We just have to savour the memories.

Finally, we did a Discuss nuclear debate on Thursday this week at the Science Festival and an event in Liverpool to read from my book and sign a few copies. It was great to meet so many new faces, but also made me all the more determined to link everything that I do with something worthwhile. I'm going to start by donating all profits from sales of 40 by 40 to the OnSide charity.

An afternoon with rogue trader Nick Leeson

I did an event in London this week with Nick Leeson, the “rogue trader” who broke Barings Bank in 1995. It was an absolutely fascinating encounter. He spoke candidly and purposefully to an audience of financial specialists about what happened to him and how it could have been avoided, but also where risk is managed now.

It was a fine end to a very hard working and productive conference organised by the Manchester-based financial technology (Fintech) business AccessPay. If I took three things from the event it was these: Cash is still king, knowledge is power and disruption is everywhere.

Just as my research earlier this year for the ICAEW on the changing role of accountants found, there is a platform shift in human behaviour that requires a far more nimble way of accessing information and accessing services and products. New ways of doing business are challenging these relationships every bit as Netflix and Uber are disrupting entertainment and taxis.

But as Nick Leeson’s talk demonstrated there is a human being at the centre of this digital world, hopefully making rational decisions and managed sufficiently within a complex system to mitigate against undue risk. When he joined me for a Question and Answer session we broadened the conversation to look at scandals like Enron and Volkswagen and how they can be prevented.

As I arrived at the Barbican Centre at 7.45 that morning I had an inkling we were in for a good day when I saw a queue of people in sleeping bags at the front desk waiting to get in. I never knew Global Treasury services and communications protocols in the banking industry were so popular. Turns out they were actually there for the sale of tickets for Hamlet, starring Benedict Cumberbatch.

Coincidentally, the previous day in London had been a board meeting for mine and Benedict’s old seat of learning, the University of Manchester. Our Alumni Advisory board had met at the Wellcome Trust, where we followed up with an open meeting for Manchester Alumni. We heard from General Secretary of the Students’ Union, Naa Acquah. In addition, Hian Seng Teng, President of the Alumni Association in Singapore and is extremely active across Asia, working with his counterparts in Hong Kong and mainland China, and also with the Alliance Manchester Business School’s Global Centres in Singapore, Shanghai and Hong Kong. It was a great occasion and really cemented my view that the experience of Manchester is an exceptional one.

It was the second event this year where I’ve shared a stage with a real person who has had a major film made about them. The first was Frank Abagnale, who was played by Leonardo di Caprio in Catch me if you Can. Nick was of course played by Euan Macgregor in Rogue Trader.

I’m going for the treble now – anyone know if Jordan Belfort is available? Or can I count Graeme Hawley as Roger Cashmore?

British gangster films I have loved and loathed

In a profile in the current issue of the Marple Review newspaper I was asked a number of light personal questions, alongside the other election candidates. The one answer I gave that people have asked me the most about was my relaxation technique - trashy British gangster films and church. In that order.

I have discussed this at length with my good mate Edmund Montgomery, the former assistant priest at Our Lady and St Christopher's in Romiley. There is a biblical narrative within these often grisly tales of violence and retribution. But also a strong sense of redemption.

The trashy ones I've recently watched include every possible film about the Essex Range Rover murders, Essex Boys, Fall of the Essex Boys, Essex Boys the Retribution, Rise of the Footsoldier, Bonded by Blood, some even starring the same actors. These aren't in the same league as epoch defining crime classics like Long Good Friday, Layer Cake and Get Carter. They're not subtle either - though this binge has included some dark and clever low budget films - Harry Brown and Down Terrace stand out - but most are fairly crude. St George's Day, The Crew and A Belfast Story are typical fare and hinge around a flawed hero who wants out but can't escape his past. There isn't a BAFTA amongst them, but I find the whole sub plot as to how these films even got made utterly fascinating. What the triggers are and what they say about the creative economy.

Maybe someone one day will make a film about this Marple murder of 1994, still unsolved.

2011 in review

Here is my review of 2011 based on the most frequently used labels. It reads like it was quite a poor one to be honest, but it doesn't reflect what I feel. MediaCity has opened, I've become a school governor and joined a board of my old University. I've been to Northern Ireland for the first time, I took Rachel to Rome, and visited the Isle of Man and London a few times. There have been big changes in my working life, big developments with the kids, achievements and firsts as well as challenges, but on the whole our life is a happy one.

Blackburn Rovers - the downward spiral feels like it is running out of control. In every way 2011 has been one of the worst years in the history of the club.

Marple - the biggest issue locally has been the prospect of Asda putting in a planning application for the college site on Hibbert Lane and the council urging Waitrose to develop in the centre. More local shops have closed, more chains are creeping in. Marple is fighting the tide stronger than other places, but it is a hard road.


Book review in a lift - Finally got round to reading Any Human Heart by William Boyd, which was my favourite novel of the year, but my favourite factual book was probably Harold Evans' memoir.

Food - If you ask the kids they rave about Red Hot Buffet. We liked the Grill on New York Street. Still disappointed by Manchester's so-called fine dining establishments.

Politics - Cameron is at his best when he is bold - he has done well enough over Libya and on Europe, and he has seen his Chancellor win the argument over the need to cut the public sector. Many in the party are now urging an election in 2012. It would be a gamble, but he'd probably get a majority. I think he's still got more to do to change the party and needs the Clegg to do more for him.

Commuting - It's been generally OK, but when it's bad, it's very, very bad. But Rose Hill is a nicer station while Marple is to get more improvements.Telly - This was the year we discovered Inbetweeners. Old favourite Spooks finished, which was probably necessary. Enjoyed Shadow Line on DVD boxed set.

Blogging - Kept it up, discovered that linking to Twitter is the biggest driver of traffic. Blog posts about Rovers are still the most popular stories, with an astonishing hit rate for the post about the Steve Kean hatred and tears for Gary Speed.


Music - I did a fair few concerts this year with a wide range - the Halle, the BBC Phil, Take That, I Am Kloot, The Specials, Elbow and Sinead O'Connor. Edited playlists avidly to a top 100.


Friends - this has been a tough year. Losing Tim Edwards and Uncle Pete have clouded everything. If they are to mean anything, it has really made me appreciate those I love dearly. Life is precious.