Working Class Heroine

[Contains sassy historical SPOILERS]

In an online review of Made in Dagenham (2010), one churlish critic suggested the film was only fit for “knee-jerk feminists and the soft in the head”… thankfully I qualify on both counts, so I ended up rather enjoying it.

This fictionalised story of the 1968 machinists strike at Ford’s Dagenham plant – where female workers walked out in protest over sexual discrimination and pay disparity – is weighted heavily in favour of the female characters, who are depicted across-the-board as noble, upstanding and good-humoured, while their male opponents are weak, unscrupulous and dim-witted (or downright evil in one particular case). It isn’t exactly subtle, and I’d prefer to keep things a little more balanced in my own work , but considering the way that women have generally been depicted over the centuries, it’s barely a drop in the ocean as far as cinematic sexism goes. I doubt this approach is likely to change the minds of any real-life chauvinists out there (assuming they have minds worth changing), but that isn’t really the point. The point, as I see it, is to inspire, motivate and hearten those already engaged in progressive political action.

I know a lot of the critics like to sling the word “didactic” around as an insult, but I always appreciate it when a writer has a strong, sincere point of view to express through their work, however clumsily. Speechifying can often upset the dramatic and/or comedic flow of a script, but as the film’s heroine (played by Sally Hawkins) asserts, when you’re faced with inequality and injustice, “Well, you’ve got to do something, haven’t you?” Why waste your time and your talent writing wishy-washy dishwater, where everyone’s point-of-view is respected, no matter how patently stupid and wrong? I’ve always found that famous-but-apocryphal Voltaire quote intensely annoying: “I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it.” If you only have one life to give, wouldn’t you be better off giving it to defend an opinion you *do* agree with? Gah! It’s not like there’s ever going to be a shortage of righteous causes to motivate you…

The film’s big happy ending sees actual, factual Employment Secretary Barbara Castle (Miranda Richardson) agreeing to meet the strikers’ demands, and bring into force the Equal Pay Act of 1970. Hurrah! Case closed, job done, roll credits, right? Well, not exactly, no… because according to an article published in The Guardian the same year this film was released, “despite four decades of equal pay legislation, Britain has one of the worst gender gaps in Europe. Women in the UK are paid 79% of male rates, while across the 27 countries of the European Union the figure is 82%, according to a report earlier this year from Eurobarometer… Women in the Midlands fare the worst, taking home £10,434 less than men, while those in the north-east fare the best, where the gap is smallest at £8,955… Different sectors also varied greatly and women hoping for equal pay were advised to think twice about jobs in IT or the pharmaceutical industry, where the gaps were the largest, at £17,736 and £14,018 respectively.” Meanwhile, “Women have also been harder hit by the recession, with more female workers than men being made redundant in the past 12 months… Over the year, 4.5% of the female workforce lost their jobs compared with 3% of men.” So, um, everybody out… again?

Enough ranting… back to Dagenham: Hawkins is undoubtedly the star of the film, flashing that cheeky grin of hers, and orating her heart out, but Richardson also has some strong scenes as the “fiery redhead” standing between the factory girls and victory. Meanwhile, there are fine supporting turns from Jaime Winstone (as ‘Sandra’, a saucy co-worker with dreams of modelling) and Rosamund Pike (as ‘Lisa’, a frustrated graduate who left academia behind to become a housewife and baby-mama to one of the factory’s ungrateful bosses). On the manly side of things, it was fun to see Andrew Lincoln playing a teacher (and a Brit!) again, after all these years as a zombie-killin’ sheriff… I almost didn’t recognise him without his stubble and sweaty clothes on!

Fun fact: When this production was first announced the working title was “We Want Sex”… in reference to a scene in which a protest banner reading “We Want Sex Equality” fails to unfurl properly, much to the amusement of passing motorists. Thankfully the title was changed for the UK market… but not for its release in several European countries, where that provocative (and totally misleading) title remained intact. I can imagine a lot of unhappy pervs angrily demanding their money back at the ticket booth afterwards…

“They’re Dangerous But I Love Their Swagger.”

[Contains erotic undead SPOILERS]

There hasn’t been much else to watch over lunch lately, so I’ve been powering through the second season of Bob’s Burgers… which I think was even funnier than the previous season, thanks (in part) to the additional musical numbers.

In theory the opening episode, “The Belchies” (#2.1), should be my favourite, because of its ‘Louise’-centric storyline, the return of ‘Andy’ and ‘Ollie’ (bless ‘em), and the closing theme by Cyndi Lauper… but I have to admit I found the ending quite frustrating. Obviously there’s no way the writers were going to let the family uncover and keep a massive haul of treasure, because that would totally destroy the premise of the show… and I know they’re just animated-line-drawings-with-voices and not real people… but the fact that the gold was under Louise’s nose the whole time, and she just tossed it aside… GAH!!! I guess the moral is “never leave a man behind, even if he is made of taffy”.

So, on balance, my actual fave is “Bad Tina” (# 2.8)… partly because it spawned the video that got me hooked on this cartoon in the first place, but mostly because it shines a spotlight on the less extroverted, but equally hilarious Belcher sister. I love the fact that the writers have taken what could have been a throwaway gag about Tina’s “sexy” zombie dreams, and made them an integral part of her fantasy life. It adds a whole new, totally gross dimension to her “horny nerd girl” schtick. I also appreciate the way they’ve given the (living, breathing) object of her unrequited affection, ‘Jimmy Jr.’, a passion for expressing his feelings through dance… because it makes him seem far more attainable and relatable than if he’d simply been an arrogant jock or whatever. Plot-wise, it was great to see Louise and Gene band together to protect their sister from her laugh-farting frenemy ‘Tammy’ (voiced by Jenny Slate), even if their efforts were all for naught. Pesky.

Oh, and it was nice to hear Megan Mullally return to the show, both as the kid’s ‘Aunt Gayle’ (#2.6) and as ‘Tabitha Johansson’, a breathy chanteuse famous for her sexually suggestive song about an “oil spill” (#2.5).

Dream Of The Nineties

I’ve been listening to Sleater-Kinney’s albums for well over a decade, but I can’t say I ever imagined that the band’s singer/guitarist, Carrie Brownstein, would transition into sketch comedy… not that S-K were all super-serious and downbeat or anything… but they weren’t exactly The Monkees either! As a child of the 90s, I’m a sucker for the slacker/hippie shenanigans that her Peabody Award–winning series Portlandia (co-created with Fred Armisen) frequently sends up… and I often think I could live quite happily in their exaggerated version of Portland, Oregon, with all those artistic, creative people taking naps and worrying about the environment. Sigh…

Anyhoo, the third season of came to a close last week, and while there were several very funny sketches, and some interesting developments in terms of a serialised story structure, I felt it was a little weaker than its predecessors. That’s probably because I’m coming at the show as a music fan as well as a comedy fan, and their just weren’t as many songs this time around.

Consequently, my fave ep of all time has to be “Cat Nap” (#2.6), which includes the awesome ‘Two Girls, Two Shirts’, co-starring Miranda July as the brains behind an extremely niche boutique store, with its own catchy jingle… then there’s the title sketch in which an unsigned band cajole their pet cat into jamming with them, before finding fame and attracting a crazy stalker played by  Kristen Wiig… and then there’s ‘Jewelry by Meghan’, featuring the funnest song about home-made jewellery you’re ever likely to hear! Just watching Carrie sing to the camera is a joy in itself… she has so much natural charisma and stage/screen presence, I’m not surprised she needed another outlet for it! Oh, and there’s also a cameo by Amber Tamblyn as a student intern at the “Women and Women First” feminist bookstore. What more could you want, dammit?

On second thoughts, I don’t see how they could ever top that episode, so it’s probably unfair to even use it as a yardstick. I should just be grateful Carrie’s on TV so regularly, while still rocking out with her new(ish) band Wild Flag.

Joshin’ With Jash

What’s almost-but-not-really as good as seeing Sarah Silverman cuddling Ellen Page, or handing an award to Juno Temple? Why, seeing her launch a new YouTube “comedy channel” with Michael Cera, of course!

This weekend at Austin’s South by Southwest festival, Big S and Cera were joined by comedians Tim Heidecker, Eric Wareheim, and Reggie Watts, to announce their formation of a Google-funded, guffaw-grabbing super-group, enigmatically named “Jash”. When asked by The Hollywood Reporter what the acronym stood for, our heroine replied: “Literally, we were at a restaurant and Tim said, ‘Just attitude!’ Which is so Tim… And then Michael Cera said, ‘So… hey?’ Which is so Michael Cera.” Meanwhile, Wikipedia reveals that it’s also a Kurdish word meaning “donkey’s foal”, which is used as a derogatory term for a type of traitorous collaborator that co-operates with enemy combatants! Oopsie.

Obviously the channel’s just a green shoot in the ground at the moment, but the intro video is pretty funny, and there are also a few short clips to enjoy on the various contributor’s individual pages. Apparently they’ll have creative carte blanche, so it should be interesting to see what those crazy kids come up with…

A Swing And A Miss

[Contains cup-spilling SPOILERS]

I’m a pretty superstitious chap, and I like to believe that there is some sort of deeper significance behind certain synchronicities… but even so, I couldn’t help scoffing at the denouement of M. Night Shyamalan’s Signs (2002), which posits that the quirks and ailments exhibited by the main character’s children were in fact all part of a stealth strategy to thwart an alien home-invasion, designed and directed by The Hand of God Himself!!! Riiight…

I could just about swallow the way that his daughter’s habit of sniffily setting aside glasses of water (that she felt had been tainted by dust or old air), left a trail of potential booby-traps around their farm house, after it was revealed that the aliens were intensely aqua-averse, because the wet-stuff happens to burn their sensitive skin. Although it does seem rather odd that they’d choose to set down on a planet covered with so much water, and not think to wear any waterproof clothing (not even a pair of wellies!). Apparently the entire invasion could have simply been rained off, like a Wimbledon tennis match. Terrifying! But as I say, I could stretch my disbelief to cover all of that… and the uncle’s wacky baseball backstory (he had a habit of hitting the ball out of park, no matter what his coach told him to do, because he has a pathological need to hit balls really hard… or something)… but the idea that some higher power gave the son asthma, just so he could survive a very specific poison gas attack? That was the straw that broke my brain’s back, I’m afraid.

Ever since I saw The Happening, I’ve had trouble taking Shyamalan seriously… and in the “making of” featurette, he states outright that this was supposed to be a more humorous movie than some of his previous efforts… but again, I can’t quite tell which bits were supposed to be funny, and which were supposed to be sad…. because I always seemed to be laughing loudest when the characters on-screen were crying. I mean, that scene where Mel Gibson is angrily/tearfully ordering his children to eat their last meals… that was a joke, right? That *had* to be a joke…

Since most of the action was confined to their farm, and the majority of the family members were male, there weren’t many actresses in the cast for me to rave about here… just a disconcertingly tiny Abigail Breslin as ‘Bo’, youngest of the weirdly blessed Hess brood.

Baby Wants To Kill

[Contains gratuitous go-go dancing SPOILERS!]

Although they both deal with hateful babies intent on destroying their mothers’ lives, there is a world of difference between We Need to Talk About Kevin and The Monster (aka I Don’t Want to Be Born, or The Devil Within Her) (1975). While the former maintained its unsettling power by eschewing any supernatural excuses for the title character’s abysmal behaviour, the latter is pretty much wall-to-wall hocus pocus hokum, with one of the most ludicrous and laughable backstories I’ve ever encountered. How they ever expected anyone to take this rot seriously, let alone find it frightening, is totally beyond me!

The film begins with ‘Lucy’ (Joan Collins), a young woman in the throes of labour, attempting to give birth to a baby that “Doesn’t want to be born!” according to her rather melodramatic doctor (Donald Pleasence). Eventually she manages to push the little blighter out, much to everyone’s relief… but it soon becomes apparent that the new-born is unnaturally large and strong for his age, as evidenced by the way he manages to draw blood after scratching his mother’s face!

Somehow this freaky “bundle of joy” had been born with the strength, cunning, mobility, and malice of a full-grown psychopath… b-b-but how could such a horrific abomination occur, you might wonder? Well, the answer is obvious really: Before marrying her wealthy Italian husband (Ralph Bates, with a wonky accent), Lucy used to work as a dancer in a sleazy strip joint. On the night of her final performance, she was joined in her dressing room by ‘Hercules’ (George Claydon), the oh-so-ironically-named dwarf, who acted as the club’s alleged “comic relief” (he doesn’t actually tell jokes or do anything remotely funny… he’s just a short, dumpy man, mutely mingling with leggy strippers on stage, and the easily-amused audience find this hilarious, for reasons that escape me). As Lucy unwound at her dressing table, he started to massage her neck, then slowly moved his hands down to grope her breasts… she shrugged him off and shrieked, attracting the attention of the passing stage manager ‘Tommy’ (John Steiner), who burst into the room and ordered Hercules to leave, before taking the opportunity to seduce Lucy himself. As she made her post-coital exit from the club, Hercules appeared and cursed her with these spine-chilling words: “You will have a baby… a monster! An evil monster conceived inside your womb! As big as I am small, and possessed by the Devil himself!” Dun-dun-dun!

After I’d stop laughing, I was left to wonder how and where Hercules gained the power to dish out such powerful curses. Are we simply expected to believe that dwarves are inherently magick, in the same way we’re expected to believe that dwarves are inherently hilarious? And if he really is that powerful a practitioner of The Dark Arts, then why does he have such a crappy, demeaning day-job? And why does he wear such boring jumpers? And why doesn’t he have a girlfriend of his own to feel up already? Sadly, that hex is the only line of dialogue he has, and no one else ever bothers to question him about his shenanigans, so he must forever remain an enigma. A petty, pervy, pissy enigma. It’s not as if she even did anything particularly cruel or hurtful to him… all she did was object when he tried to molest her, and cause him a brief bit of embarrassment. He didn’t lose his job, or get beaten up, or even get his face slapped… yet four innocent people end up being viciously murdered, all because he decided to act like a butt-hurt little jerk-off. Tch!

Luckily for Lucy, her sister-in-law (Eileen Atkins, also with an “Italian” accent) just so happens to be a genuflecting, crucifix-carrying, wimple-wearing nun, straight outta the convent. The baby cries up a storm in her presence, and throws a fit at its Christening, so it doesn’t take long for the Sister to become convinced that her nephew might be in need of a holy intervention… although I have to say, she’s rather tardy when it comes to taking any real, decisive action on that front. Considering how quickly and easily she “exorcises” the demon in the end, you have to wonder why she didn’t try it sooner… preferably before the rambunctious little rugrat had murdered her own brother! Did it take that long for her to recharge her Bible? Or did she just have a really bad case of jetlag? Oy…

Fun fact: The cute, kindly midwife in the opening scenes was played by Floella Benjamin… who I still think of as “the woman who used to present Play School”, but apparently she’s a Baroness with an OBE now! Lummy.

Mama Sita

While nosing around the IMDb page for The Guru, I discovered that one of the dancers featured in the faux-Bollywood film clips also provided the speaking voice for the title character in Sita Sings the Blues (2008). This then led me to the discovery that the film is available to download for free (for reasons relating to music rights), in various formats via the official website. So that’s what I done.

Nina Paley’s animated extravaganza is an irreverent reimagining of the Sanskrit epic Ramayana (aka “Exploits of Rama”), which tells the story of how the Hindus’ ideal man, Rama, rescued his wife Sita from the clutches of Ravana, the ten-headed King of Lanka, with the aid of Hanuman the Monkey King. Instead of a straight adaptation of the events described in this ancient, venerated text, Paley chose to intercut several different narrative strands, in contrasting animation styles: First up are the “classical” sections, featuring dialogue from the Ramayana, enacted using painted figures of the characters, in the 18th Century Rajput stylee… then there are the “discourse” sections, where three silhouetted shadow puppets chat about the story, in an unscripted, humorous fashion, and attempt to explain it for the audience as best they can… then there are the “musical” sections that give the film its name, where Sita’s feelings are expressed via the songs of 1920s American jazz singer, Annette Hanshaw… then there are the “modern” sections, in which Paley recounts the breakdown of her own marriage, to provide a more contemporary parallel for the main plot.

Personally, I found those latter sequences to be a little weak, and didn’t even realise they were supposed to be autobiographical until I read the Wikipedia page after the fact. I like the idea behind them very much, but felt they were a little too thin and sketchy to have much emotional impact. In a hypothetical money-no-object remake, I think they might work better as live-action shorts, with more time spent getting to know (and care about) the characters. While I’m on a negative tip, I’d also say that I sometimes found the animation to be a little flat and repetitive… but these are very minor complaints, considering how much sweat, spirit, charm and love went into the project, and how enjoyable it is as an overall experience. The musical sections in particular are absolutely mesmerising, and often very funny to boot. It may not be the method many scholars would choose to teach the classics, but as a feminist I appreciate how these soulful, toe-tapping tunes make Sita such a sympathetic, downright adorable character, and render her otherworldly plight so much more relatable to a Western audience. I’m not surprised that the proper critics have greeted it with universal acclaim… it’s just a shame that Paley isn’t in a position to enjoy any sort of financial remuneration for her inspiring efforts and achievements.

Meanwhile, the dancer I mentioned earlier is Reena Shah… who also served as the “dance model” and choreographer for the film, as well as lending her vocals to an original track titled “Agni Pariksha (Sita’s Fire)”. According to her official bio, Shah is a multidisciplinary artist and “modern renaissance woman”, born and raised in New Jersey… and, besides helping to choreograph The Guru, and playing keyboards in a rock band with her husband, she’s also contributed to Late Night with Conan O’Brien, The Daily Show and The Colbert Report. Coo!

Kama = Drama

[Contains spoiled, bindi-sporting SPOILERS]

As a casual student of Indian culture and an aspiring comedy writer, I was curious to check out the Bollywood-biting American rom-com The Guru (2002), and see what I could rip-off learn from it.

According to classical Hindu thought, there are three acceptable objectives for all human endeavour: First and foremost is virtuous living (Dharma), second is material prosperity (Artha), and last comes aesthetic and erotic pleasure (Kama). When these objectives conflict, you’re advised to err on the side of virtue over all else, and a stable livelihood/home over the dictates of your dumb stick (or “dumb button”, in the ladies’ case). Which seems like a pretty good rule of thumb to me… but the main protagonist of The Guru seems determined to work through them in completely the wrong direction!

‘Ramu Gupta’ (Jimi Mistry) quits his day job as a dance instructor and leaves his comfortable middle-class home in Delhi, in order to travel to America, where he believes fame and fortune awaits him. He ends up working as a waiter to make ends meet… until a wacky mix-up at a fancy party allows him to step into the shoes (and turban) of an intoxicated guru, and dazzle the uptown crowd with his funky dance moves, and the sex-positive philosophy he plagiarises from a delusional porn star he met at a failed audition. His side-business as a “Sex Guru” blossoms, as more repressed white people seek his counsel, but his whole schtick is founded on the second-hand self-help techniques he’s secretly stolen from his “actress” friend, ‘Sharonna’ (Heather Graham), under the guise of seeking her help with his own performance anxiety. They fall in love along the way, of course… but can’t admit it to themselves or each other, because… well, then the film would be a helluva lot shorter, right?

When she finally tumbles his game, and sees him stood on stage sharing her personal theories with a paying audience, she’s heartbroken and humiliated. And when he realises that he’s lost her, he renounces his lucrative new career live on international (!) television, in order to rush after her, and ruin her dream wedding to another man (who, by a convenient stroke of luck, also loves someone else, and is looking for an out). The film ends with Ramu driving his car up into the clouds, with Sharonna by his side (a la Grease), so we don’t get to see how they resolve the whole “Sex Guru” resignation thing… and I’m still not entirely clear on which of the three objectives you’d ascribe “romantic love” to… but I’d argue that he jacks in his Artha for the sake of his Kama, and never gives so much as a passing thought to his Dharma!

Meanwhile, Ramu’s most ardent acolyte is ‘Lexi’ (Marisa Tomei), a wealthy socialite (and New Age dabbler) who surrenders her material wealth to his greedy entourage, in order to follow what she believes is her spiritual destiny. She’s treated as more of a plot device than a serious contender for Ramu’s affections, so we don’t get to see very much of her… which is a shame, because I thought Tomei was very funny and winning in the role. There is a scene at the end where Ramu places the turban of Guru-hood on her head, and anoints her as his successor… which was very sweet, but it made me wish that they’d made the movie about her and Ramu, instead of Sharonna. Sigh. Oh, and Lexi’s disapproving mother was played by the always-excellent Christine Baranski, so there’s another reason to expand her subplot right there!

[Fun fact: The closing credits music is a cover of “Every Kinda People” (a song about how the world needs people of all kinds and colours to get along) performed by Jo O’Meara… who’s best known these days for the part she played in the racist bullying of Indian actress Shilpa Shetty in the Celebrity Big Brother house. Ironic, no?]

The Young Offender’s Mum

[Contains nappy-crapping SPOILERS]

Despite being an avowed Tilda Swinton fan, I was wary about watching We Need to Talk About Kevin (2011), because I’d assumed from the serious subject matter that it would be a rather dreary and depressing experience. As it turns out, I couldn’t have been more wrong. Director Lynne Ramsay’s artful eye brings so much life and energy to the screen, and the script is packed with moments of dark, twisted comedy, greatly enhanced by Swinton’s critically-acclaimed and totally committed performance. In fact, I was laughing so much, I didn’t even realise how unsettled I’d been by the eponymous character’s behaviour until I tried to get to sleep that night, and found images from the film coming back to haunt me. Now that’s value for money! Despite it’s occasional flaws, this was a fascinating, mesmerising film, and one that I’m sure will stick with me for years to come. Shudder.

Having watched several straight-up horror flicks about demonic children in the past, it was interesting to note how much scarier it is when there’s no pat supernatural explanation for the child’s behaviour. It’s easier to shrug off something like The Exorcist or The Omen, because the chances of you bumping into an antichrist on the street are pretty remote… but Kevin isn’t possessed, and he isn’t the spawn of Satan, and he doesn’t have any magical powers or hellhounds to aid him… he’s just a murderous misanthrope with a longbow and some bike locks. He could, theoretically, be living next door to any of us… and he could strike at any time. It’s the mundanity of his evil that makes it so terrifying to me. I also found it interesting that the writer chose a bow and arrow as Kevin’s weapon of choice… I think that helps to make it a more universal story, because here in Britland it’s extremely unlikely that a kid his age would have access to a handgun, but I can remember taking archery classes at the local youth centre when I was young. I imagine it’s considered a fairly innocent pastime by most people, in most countries… which makes his father’s encouragement, and his mother’s blind-eye, far more plausible.

Speaking of “blind-eyes”, I liked the way the non-linear story structure helped to heighten the tension… for example, when we first meet Kevin’s adorable little sister ‘Celia’ (played by Ashley Gerasimovich), she’s cheerfully sporting an unexplained eye-patch, so we’re left to wonder if she was born with a disability, or if she acquired it later in life. Then when Kevin moves from rubber-sucker-tipped arrows to the real thing, you start to clench in anticipation of the moment when he “accidentally” pulls a King Harold II on the poor girl. As it turns out, the injury happens off-screen, and has nothing to do with arrows at all… but still, it was an very effective red herring. Despite the implication that Kevin may have been responsible for Celia’s disfigurement, it’s left fairly ambiguous, so I was still totally shocked when I saw that he’d actually killed her along with his father. Up until that late reveal, I’d been clinging to the hope that she’d been taken away by Child Services or something… that she was happily gambolling around on a farm somewhere, along with her missing pet hamster. But, no… she was gambolling with the angels instead. Sniffle.

Kevin’s father, ‘Franklin’, on the other hand, I couldn’t have cared less about… to steal a line from another John C. Reilly movie, the guy had it coming. I remember back in uni, I was eating lunch in the cafeteria one day when a sociology student came around with a questionnaire about juvenile delinquents. I can’t recall the exact questions I was asked about antisocial behaviour and its potential causes, but (given multiple choices) I blamed the parents every time. Although we’re really only seeing the story through the eyes of the mother, ‘Eva’ – who’s probably not the most reliable of observers – it’s likely that Franklin was overcompensating for his wife’s antipathy by indulging his son to a deadly degree. Aside from the scene where Eva lashes out and throws Kevin against a wall (which I’m certainly not advocating), I can’t recall any instances of either of them actually punishing or disciplining the brazen little brat… certainly not in the sort of structured and consistent manner he required. Didn’t they have a “naughty-step” in their house? Nah, just let him eat more sugar… I’m sure he’ll grow out of it. Tch! Presumably that’s why Eva chooses to martyr herself by staying in the same town where random parents can just walk up and slap her in the street with total impunity. She certainly didn’t stay for the sake of her work or her social life, anyway…

Although it’s a little unclear where Kevin is being held prisoner, it’s presumably close enough for her to visit regularly, and get to know the guards on a first-name basis. Clearly the relationship between Eva and Kevin is the core of the story, and full credit has to go to the look-a-like actors (Ezra Miller, Jasper Newell and Rocky Duer) who play the role at various stages in his development, and help to breathe life into this beautiful/abhorrent monster… as well as to Miss Swinton, of course. The final scene between the mother and her soon-to-be-adult son is particularly moving, although the implications of his admission are open to debate. Has Kevin finally realised the futility of his hatred? Is he capable of remorse? Redemption? Or is he simply feeling sorry for himself again? Is it another passing phase, or a genuine sign of growth? Find out in the forthcoming sequel, We Still Need to Talk About Kevin!

Oh, and I should really give a shout-out to Siobhan Fallon Hogan, who plays Eva’s amusingly apathetic new boss. It’s a small part, but a memorable one!

[Note: The post’s title is a reference to an old song by Carter USM, which someone has kindly put up on YouTube]

“Shut Your Mouth, It’s Art Crawl!”

I am an idiot… of that there can be no doubt. To date there have been three seasons of Bob’s Burgers produced, at least one of which was broadcast over here in Britland on E4… and yet, despite having a mad crush on one of the regular cast members (and several of the recurring players), it’s taken me this long to get around to actual watching an episode (or thirteen)! Boo to me.

The inciting incident in this case was the release of an animated video of St. Vincent covering a song from a second season episode, called “Bad Girls”. I was only watching it out of idle curiosity, but I quickly became addicted… partly because it’s such a fun song in its own right, but mostly because of the adorable animation. Just look at the way St. Vincent shakes her head when she sings the chorus… or the way ‘Tina’ gently nods her head when asked if boys’ butts are really worth all the trouble. Sooo cute!

After playing that video to death, I promptly set about tracking down the first season of the parent show, only to find that it was just as moreish as its musical offspring. The premise of a dysfunctional family running a small town hamburger restaurant doesn’t necessarily sound like the stuff of great comedy, but the writers have already managed to wring a remarkable number of solid storylines and strong laughs from the setting. The real gold comes from the banter between the characters, which combines a loose, naturalistic performance style, with often absurd subject matter.

Unsurprisingly, my favourite Belcher is devious, demented daughter ‘Louise’, voiced by Kristen Schaal. Her aggressive enthusiasm for mayhem is so infectious – and her signature headwear so snazzy – it’s no wonder the other kids follow her like lemmings! She actually reminds me of a more upbeat, energetic ‘Wednesday Addams’, as she attempts to cut her brother’s ear off to make him a better artist, advocates using Voodoo to bring down a rival restaurateur, or locks her siblings in the basement of a mortuary with a booby-trapped coffin. Bwaaa haaa haa ha ha ha!!!

My favourite ep so far would have to be either “Art Crawl” (1.8), which sees Louise setting up her own Warhol-style production line for tacky tourist “art” (and features the classic exchange quoted in this post’s title)… or “Spaghetti Western and Meatballs” (1.9), in which the eponymous ‘Bob’ bonds with son ‘Gene’ over a series of old-timey movies, robbing Louise of her precious father-daughter quality time. Aw! If pressed, I’d have to give the win to “Art Crawl”, because it introduced the inseparable Pesto twins, two easily manipulated school friends of Louise’s, voiced by Laura and Sarah Silverman. There was also a vocal cameo by Megan Mullally, as Louise’s fragile, artistically-inclined aunt ‘Gayle’. Yay!

On the downside, I was going to complain about the fact that two of the three main female characters were voiced by men… until I remembered that a lot of young boys in cartoons are voiced by women (the most obvious example being Nancy Cartwright’s work as ‘Bart Simpson’). Nevertheless, I do feel that John Roberts sometimes tries to make the mother’s voice as grating as possible, as if that were a joke in itself… and maybe it is, but it’s not one I find very amusing. As Bob himself asserts in the opening ep, there’s a line between being entertaining and being annoying.