Pop - Art - House

My cinema project of watching a film every week for the whole of 2015 continued yesterday evening with a one off screening of The Light Shines Only There, part of @showroomcinema's Japanese Film Season. Celebrating its 20th birthday this year, The Showroom is a proper good cinema, and a social enterprise at that. Admittedly it can do with a bit of a facelift, like so many of the actors that graces its screens have been and got done, but it's still a great place to watch great movies. You can support the efforts to raise funds for their planned refurb by donating money. Alternatively you can contribute by actually going to see their films. And why wouldn't you want to? Their programming is laudable, particularly in the face of mounting commercial pressures, screening even the more obscure art house films alongside select blockbusters. I salute.

There's now an art house rival in the shape of the brand new Curzon so it'll be interesting to see if the people of Sheffield are discerning enough to support two independent cinemas. Curzon has got the upper hand when it comes to sound and picture quality but they're part of a profit driven company and grossly over-priced. Charging London prices up t'north isn't really a winning formula. The Showroom on the other hand is cheap in comparison. Particularly when films such as The Light Shines Only There are shown as part of their Eye Opener moniker. At £5 a ticket, there is certainly only one winner in the art house cinema price war of Sheffield. For more than double that price we could've 'enjoyed' Fifty Shades of Grey at Curzon yesterday. Tough choice. Whilst on the subject of the Fifty Shades craze, good on ITV for jumping on the bandwagon with their 'bondage for beginners' slot on This Morning the other week. Christine Bleakley and Phillip Schofield getting educated on the virtues of silk blindfolds, feathered spankers and scented candles cum (so to speak) massage oil must surely be enough for some viewers to spew up their elevenses. Try it yourself here.

Anyway, there was certainly no Hollywood gloss whatsoever about The Light Shines Only There. A relentlessly bleak depiction of life at the bottom of Japan's social ladder, there was virtually no let up in the misery. In pop culture reference the tagline 'We found love in a hopeless place' would've summed it up perfectly. The female protagonist was living a hell that even Von Trier would've baulked at and moments of (supposed) tenderness between the central couple somehow managed to disturb. Curiously it was Japan's entry for this year's foreign language Oscar, pretty sure the Academy voters who had a mental or physical wank over American Sniper would've choked on their elevenses at a film that depicts a major taboo subject.

All things considered though, it was a good film. Albeit one that required you to laugh hysterically as you left the screen just to remind you that life isn't quite as shit as the film would have you believe. Just 'Shake it off' like Swifty, pop culture reference #2, and back to normality. Films like these will either leave you feel rather solemn or serve as a reminder that whatever's currently bugging you, someone else has got it far worse. Essentially life is good, and not just because LG says so. Sometimes people need a kick up the arse to be able to see beyond their own life bubble of perceived agony/frustration/stress/other source of moaning, excluding those experiencing proper hardship obviously. It's all about a positive mental attitude. Change your life or change your thinking I say. Remember 'If I surround myself with positive things, I'll gain prosperity'. Pop culture reference #3.

I'm 100% in favour of literally lathering oneself with positive things. It's the quickest shortcut to a prosperous life, not necessarily in monetary terms but in general wellbeing and life experiences. Besides there's little point in doing things that make you feel miserable. Whilst I really rather enjoy bleak and harrowing motion pictures, when it comes to most other popular culture I much prefer the playful, colourful, unpretentious, unserious, hence I LOVE pop art. If there's pop art on display when I'm in town I'm there. It's graphic and tongue in cheek, and most importantly it doesn't require an accompanying essay to make sense of it.

Needless to say I jumped at the opportunity to purchase these fridge magnets at a recent visit to the British Library.

Rather randomly I'd been on the hunt for some good fridge magnets for a while, so imagine the exaltation at finding these ones in the sale, for 2 quid. Grab and go. I had actually been to the Comics Unmasked exhibition they accompanied but somehow failed to spot them in the shop afterwards. All's well that ends well, and they certainly brighten up the greyest of fridges.

By happenstance I was also very kindly and aptly given a set of fridge magnets for my birthday. My hankering for magnets must've become public knowledge. These aren't just any fridge magnets, they're Clueless fridge magnets. Gotta love a bit of Clueless, the most supreme symbiosis of cheesy teen comedy and sharp wit. 'Do you prefer fashion victim or ensembly challenged?'. As much as I love art house cinema, sometimes you just need to watch something jolly and upbeat. The quote factor on display is sky high and it contains the best description of Monet ever: 'From far away it's ok, but up close it's a big old mess'. Precisely my sentiment. I'm not afraid to admit that I've watched Clueless more times than most sane people would, so the magnets are practically perfect in every way.

There you have it, my fridge has become a veritable feast of pop art and a visual representation of all things fun in life. Because at the end of the day, 'Don't worry, be happy'. Pop culture reference #4. The world's our oyster, make the most of it, others do, you can too. That's my 2 pennies of cod psychology life coaching for the day. Plenty more clichés where that came from though, watch this space.

Love is strange

This weekend gone was Valentine's Day. The sheer force of capitalism and commercialism washes over us all like a tsunami and in its wake a sea of devastated bank balances and credit card limits. February 14 is that one special day of the year when everything is given a glossy sheen of romance. Chocolates, bottles of bubbly and bouquets of flowers cease to just be confectionary, alcoholic beverages and botanical specimens, they become red wrapped, heart shaped embodiments of love. A meal out is no longer a pleasant and convivial means of ensuring daily nourishment, rather a shining beacon of commitment and joy. No papering over the cracks here. No siree.

As you may have noticed, I don't care much for Valentine's day. I'd go so far as to say that it's probably my least favourite 'day'. I've always made a point of not acknowledging it, even through years of being coupled up. My dislike is multifaceted in origin. It's a cynical commercial ploy, it's exclusive, it's reductionist, it's gender biased. If I wanted to display affection to loved ones through the medium of presents, I wouldn't necessarily wait until mid February to do so. And I wouldn't buy something that had been 'carefully selected' for me to unsubtly spell out the sentiment. Unromantic chocolate tastes just as good.

Having said that I'm not against the concept per se, I just don't value it for myself. The mere thought of grand, sweeping declarations of endearment of any sort gives me the shivers, akin to a dentist drilling too close to the nerve. Others clearly get a lot out of the day though and that's totally great for them. No soap box of ginormous proportions here. No siree. As though to prove the point, this year even I dipped my toe into the sickly sweet goo of love by bookending Valentine's weekend with two very different depictions of human affection.

Early afternoon screening at the brand spanking new Curzon Sheffield of Love is Strange, starring John Lithgow and Alfred Molina. The title is slightly misleading seeing as there's been a number of unusual love stories hitting our multiplexes and independent cinemas over the years that would've been a better fit. Man loves mannequin (Mannequin). Boy loves granny (Harold and Maude). Woman loves gorilla (King Kong). Man loves sex doll (Lars and the Real Girl). Doll loves doll (Bride of Chucky). Man loves operating system (Her). There is nothing remotely headline grabbing about the central love story in Love is Strange however. The only unusual thing, strange even, is that it got made in the first place, focusing as it does on a gay male couple of advancing years who decides to tie the knot after being together for 39 years. Understated and beautifully acted by two ageing stalwarts with palpable chemistry between them. It's like Amour minus the tension and dementia.

The film is not without its flaws but enjoyable nevertheless, and particularly appropriate for a Valentine's matinee. Love is indeed strange and it's not a one size fits all. I once had a chat with a poly-amorous couple three whilst peddling Chlamydia tests in exchange for Sex Factor boxer shorts as part of Sheffield Sexual Health Day in Barker's Pool, outside John Lewis. I had never come across the concept before, let alone an actual couple/threesome. They spoke very frankly and candidly about their approach to love and relationships, how they can fall in love with more than one person at the same time and how they maintain the relationship between the three of them. Afterwards I was thinking huge kudos to them for being so open and unapologetic for a 'lifestyle choice' that would generally be demonised or dismissed. So what if consenting adults are living as a threesome? So what if someone falls in love with a computer with husky vocals or declare his inanimate and perennially surprised sex doll his life partner? That's love too. And herein lies perhaps the main reason for my Valentine's dislike. Loving relationships are all around and take on all sorts of guises yet at Valentine's the complexity of human emotions is kicked into submission and shoe horned into neat heart shaped boxes of conventions and expectations. If only life itself was that simple.

Love's strange ways is also at work in the film that wrapped up my Valentine's weekend, having thoroughly enjoyed Arsenal outgunning Middlesbrough in the FA Cup earlier in the afternoon.

The brilliant Juno on Blu-Ray, pre-owned from eBay for £5. I've been waiting patiently for it to appear on Netflix but thought fuck it, it's worth owning anyway. Exceptionally well written, peppered with quotable lines, funny and well acted. And it's about teenage pregnancy. Despite Juno deciding to go through with the pregnancy it still feels like it's sticking two very firm fingers up at convention and the joyless pro-lifers. Get pregnant and give birth first, then fall in love. Whatever works, love is strange.