Welcome to New York - 2014

 Dir - Abel Ferrara, 
 Cast - G Depardieu, J Bisset

Following the revelations in Gerard Depardieu's new autobiography that he was a nasty little shit during his teenage years, casting  the obese French star as a thinly disguised, but physically huge and morally grotesque French politician is a masterstroke.

Apparently based on Dominique Strauss Khan (aka DSK),the ageing bon viveur whose time in control of the IMF has set him fair for a run at the next Presedential election. Depardieu is well beyond caring how he may appear while engaging in prolonged panty, pervy sex with a succession of party girls, and surpasses all non-porno male performances in sexual staying power and never ending depravity in the opening 20 mins of this excellent movie. With the exception, perhaps, of Michael Fassbinder in the last 20 mins of Steve Mcqueen's Shame, he lets it all hang out like no other.

Having started his visit to a New York hotel suite with a lengthy and violent looking bj from a blonde, he carries on with a visit from two more hookers for another sex session, the other party people having long gone,  doubtless exhausted.
Depardieu is utterly believable in the role of a sex addict who happens to be a grande fromage in gay Paris.When he drops his trousers ready to be pleasured in the opening scene, his huge gut takes up so much of the shot, only widescreen will suffice  for us to see the rest of what goes on in the room.

The fateful lunge on the unsuspecting chamber maid in scene 3 is another masterclass in unselfconsciousness, while attempting yet another depraved, violent, unpleasant sexual act. Having been arrested and remanded and then ultimately bailed to live in NYC while awaiting trial, he is quite remorseless as he discusses another vulgar embarrassment with his wife - Jacqueline Bisset still looking elegant and sophisticated - who has bailed him out yet again.

He seems quite baffled. What is all the fuss about? He only made her touch his penis with her mouth. He didn't have sex with her or anything like that. "What is wrong with these....people" he spits with as much venom and contempt as is fitting.  And so it goes on, the conversation between them is accompanied by Gerard's increasingly desperate attempts to conjure forgiveness from his bitter wife, who is ever more repulsed by what her husband has become. Theses exchanges are a real treat, Bisset giving another clever acting class as a beautiful, intelligent , wealthy woman who apparently has it all but is trapped by her fame and humbling circumstances. She has to stick by her man by whom she can not bear to be touched, because the alternative - the public shame and indefensible position a "guilty" plea would leave them in, is even worse.

This is a monster protagonist drawn from the real world, not the pages of Robert Harris or JRR Tolkein, Mary Shelley or the Brothers Grimm. Abel Ferrara is perhaps best known for low budget shock horrors like Driller Killer. But the more recent The Addiction and The Funeral from the 90s, as well as the infamous Bad Lieutenant featuring another out-there performance from Harvey Keitel, demonstrated he had class. This tour de force proves it beyond doubt. Lets hope the court case he will no doubt have to fight when DSK sues for libel does not put an end to the career of a talent that is ready for the big time proper. I just doubt that his next release - Pasolini - will be the one to put him there.
P Budgie - for Treedown Gotobed - 06-09-14

Knole Sevenoaks 28/09/14

Sevenoaks is an easy trip from SE London, all you need is a car or motorcycle, or by bicycle it is well within the range of today's fitness fanatics with the light, silent machines, and enough money to get you in.
For us four wheel folk, that will set you back a mere £4 to park in the grounds. Some people were walking from the town, but you need at least 30 mins extra and power in the legs to spare.
Knole means a spot on the top of a hill, so hills there are plenty to climb. But you do get to dwell on "The Gallops", so named as it was where the landowners of past generations chased the deer along a glorious grassy meadow, overlooked by wooded hills on each side.
The deer are still here, although no rutting was seen by your correspondent and his party. Just some dappled fawns and mothers, and the odd adolescent male with antlers just poking skyward by a foot above the eyes and ears.The map of where the deer had been spotted that day showed they were at the far boundaries, well beyond our capabilities.

Going round the 12 or so rooms open to the public only set us back £10.50 each. There are 365 rooms to roam, but only 12 accessible to us plebs. The ubiquitous wood panelling was wondrous, with secret door panels visible behind the omnipresent ropes.

Actually, Knole is almost apologetic about its roping; you are invited to walk on the rugs and touch certain off cuts of tapestry and textiles, just to show you how badly these materials wear. The main long gallery filled with portraits of noblemen, wives, cardinals and dignitaries is one of several at Knole - designed to provide Elizabethans with a place to exercise in bad weather while parading before the gaze of their illustrious relatives - leads you to three huge vases and then into the Billiards Room. Two "After Titians" look over the ancient billiard table, with a collection of cues which are bent at the end. Are they rests? The notably personable and friendly staff soon answered my question.

"Did you know Billiards began as an outdoor game , played on grass, with mallets and hoops?"
"Well no"...
"Hence the green baize and bent, mallet like cues...Why are they called cues? "
"Well, I dont know"...
""Because they turned the mallets around when the game came indoors, to use the small end of the stick to pot the balls. And the French for back-side or rear-end is cul..."
"Like your bum" I so eloquently clarified.
"Exactly. Do you see this rope here," the man added, pointing up at the ceiling at what looked like a bell pull. "This is where the term dumb-bell comes from, as it was weighted so gentlemen, ( aka knights ) could strengthen their sword arm by pulling on it repeatedly but it was silent of course".

The next rooms featured four-poster beds, ornate silver guilded mirrors and other ancient silver wear and furniture.
Knole really does ooze old-world atmosphere, that makes it easy to understand how the writing of Orlando by Virginia Woolf came about. The presence of so many ghosts is so far from oppressive. The house is presented as a celebration of past lives having enjoyed this wonderful house, set in 1000 acres of medieval deer park.
Vita Sackville West lived here and breathed life into the place, but because she was a girl, could not inherit. So off she went to Sissinghurst to have more gay affairs, possibly with Woolf,  no doubt slightly displeased with that particular [salic] law.

Map to the Stars / Gods Pocket

Dont believe any negative reviews of these super movies, they are both not to be missed. The hellish Hollywood of 'Maps' is brilliantly dark, cynical and sick. The spoilt teenagers are endlessly amoral and horrid about any peers and elders who cross their paths. The older generations, personified in particular by Julianne Moore as a star facing middle age and desperate to win a part, are no better and are transparently, equally amoral.
The story touches on incest heavily, ghosts haunt the protagonists in a chilling way, and family members who have a wicked side re-emerge to further corrupt the druggy, pestilient existence of the
monstrous members of the main family. The 13 year old boy and main wage earner of the family is quite something; nasty as any Mexican cartel member in the head. When he starts playing around with a loaded gun, you truly fear for everything in that room.

Gods Pocket - another winning performance by much missed Philip Seymour Hoffman as a loser trying to keep his head above water in a world where everyone is about to drown (their sorrows)...most have already done so and long given up. Mad Men star Christina Hendrix plays a down trodden (isnt everyone ) MILF who is easliy seduced by the sorry (isnt everyone) local star reporter, bald, wrinkled, sozzled (isnt everyone - ie henceforth) who writes a storey about the death of Hendrix horrible (ie !) son.He thinks he is doing the neighbourhood a favour, but the locals who inhabit the local bar (e) dont see it that way.

Matisse The Cut-Outs - Tate Modern Sept 2014

Art - No doubt the Matisse exhibition at the Tate was the highlight of this art summer. Of any summer. The first large room was my favourite - to see the entirity of the Jazz book he knocked up in the 40s was a delight.It was published in 1947 by his Greek friend Teriade, with whom he had collaborated with the Verve magazine.Only 100 original books were released, composed of 20 colour prints and accompanying text. The finished article was exhibited together with the original "Maquettes". Pins were still in situ, slightly rusty and bent, but still doing the job. Each page featured a picture and was mirrored with text opposite. Sometimes the subject was obvious, but a fun challenge came from those with a weird French title which gave us Anglais no clues. So you had to work to find out what you were looking at. The circus themes were joyous fun, sublime collages and brush work with bold colours adding to a lucious extravaganza of pleasure for the eyes and brain. The Trapeze was super, as is The Fall of Icarus. Despite the subject matter of the latter, the sheer positivity is all encompassing and winning.

This is one of the great works of the 20th century; bold, unapologetic, a melange of material & colour and a happy mess of glue and rough edges. To see the original work added to the experience twofold. I must have spent an hour among the crowd, lapping it up. There's no anguish here, unless the scrawl of words that accompany the pictures express another story. I gave up trying to make it out, the words are written with a brush and the joined up writing is in keeping with what appears to be a stream of consciousness type commentary on art. Worry not, the pictures express a childs eye joy of which this old man, stuck in his wheelchair, determined to wring every scrap of genius out of his broken body, was a magnificent standard bearer.

The confident large compositons such as The Snail followed, as did the Blue Nudes - perhaps his most famous image? Then designs for the Chapel in Vence,including the vestments and stained glass windows, to which he devoted huge amounts of energy and time, as it was fatefully running out on him. Another awesome treat; first you see the rough cut design by Matisse, then the finished window, a lovely melange of blues, green, white and yellow, backlit to maximum effect.
What a fantastic show !
P Budgie 25-09-14

Sonic Imperfections at The Montague Tuesday 12-08-14 - by P Budgie for Treedown Gotobed

They keep telling us New Cross is the next Shoreditch , sandwiched by Peckham and Deptford, it is edgy; aka rough on the Old Kent Road.But this monthly event is worth travelling into SE London's nastier recesses to see some wonderful arty music acts that hover on the line between daftly pretentious and innovatively beautiful. Think 1977 and Bowie's release of Low. Side 1 was all crashing drums and clever lyrics like "Always Crashing in the Same Car" and that masterpiece about writers block , "Sound and Vision". Then there was side 2. A burgeoning punk rocker at the time, I hated it. Now its my favourite record of all time. Philip Glass has written an orchestral composition  based on it, now released on CD. And a supergroup of musos has also released their version of the Low / Heroes ambient pieces by Eno & Bowie. What is it , 35 years later and those records are still reverberating around the music world. You have to admit, if Bowie was still based in Beckenham, he would be a Sonic Imperfections regular, always greedily consuming the new; Neu, Can, Kraftwerk etc.

None of the bands are to this standard, but the best, Iyatra Quartet were magnificently well drilled and developed some delightful melodies, with no electronica in sight. Just cello, violin, guitar and drums.They are a must see.

Last night featured three different acts, the old world instrumentation of Laura Cannell. The voice music of Georgina Brett, using effects to make her voice a weird instrument. Pyne Mwamba Duo both played vibes with wah wah pedal, effects and unusual bowing and and blowing into the amplification. It was sometimes laughable, but mostly the music was slow and atmospheric, and when they stopped pounding, it was frequently melodic and interesting with an arresting, sudden beauty springing out of the strange loops and noises. It was like looking at clouds on the horizon, and fleetingly seeing a stunning red sunset burst through the greyness. 

These are the nights when musicians let themselves go. Laugh all you like, in the end you may miss something extraordinary.

Next Sept 9th - Julia Mascetti, Alison J Blunt (tbc) and Collectress

Breaking Bad - were the protagonists paid that badly ? P Budgie for Treedown Gotobed - 10 -08-14

People are still debating the merits and problems that arise from the actions and consequences of our heroes - Walt and Jesse. What a fabulous work - how to use the episodic format of TV to its limits. Take time, let the characters develop, let them develop histories while we watch. If a new viewer has missed a series, you best go and catch up. These guy may inspire love and devotion, or loathing and repulsion. It depends on you. They do bad things. They cook a horrible addictive drug that lays waste to people in  quick time. Walts wife Skylar is a great totem of changing values and tolerance of terrible things in the name of her family. Jesse becomes a self-loathing mess, apparently on the brink of tears thoughout the final series. Which is a shame because he is the most human and in many ways, lovable of everyone wencounter. It is Hank, the apparent doofus, forever lowering the tone of family gatherings, who ultimately outwits them all.
Credibilty is stretched somewhat beyond the limits but we accept and carry on watching. What about the storming of horrible drug dealing psychopath Tocus HQ by Walt in series 2 ? That would have been suicide. Come on. And as for the remote controlled machine gun, auto massacring the badies after a remarkable piece of parking by Walt near the conclusion...really...that is just daft. But nevertheless, the whole thing is a triumph that so many of us love to bits.
Anthony Hopkins wrote it was the best acted thing he had ever seen. Only The Wire can come near it in terms of compulsion to watch the box set in one sitting.
And it flourished in popularity through word of mouth. The way it was shown on British TV was scandalous. Minority channel FX picked it up and proceeded to show it at graveyard spots.So most of us have gone out of our way to find it, download it, beg or borrow it. Talk about having the world at your feet, Bryan Cranston won so many acting awards he must have become the object of envy in the profession. Fashion photoshoots, interviews, Malcolm in the Middle reruns, Cranston was set to dominate like a Clooney or Pitt. So what does he do ? Godzilla followed by Cold Comes the Night. The less said about the former the better. But the thiller with a cool title in which he plays a nasty East European gangster is horribly cliched. You must have been offered better ? And Aaron Paul,doing Need for Speed ? These films are just so execrable they defy comment. Teenage? It probably only appeals to the younger teens who may not be allowed into the cinema to see it, if it is a 14 cert. If not , it must be truly, trlu really lame.
Fellas - time to fire the agent and get yourselves into some more quality stuff before you blow all the goodwill you have accrued. Cranston, you should have grabbed The Counsellor lead , you would have made a lot of difference to what should have been a great movie. Aaron PAul - beware the TV shows you go on - Top Gear is a laugh but the Star in the Car is always a nitemare. Too many mistakes fellas, you would have been mincemeat in Alburquerque by now.

The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt - rvw by P Budgie for Treedown Gotobed blogspot

Donna Tartt does not churn them out - this is her third novel published in the last 30 years - The Secret History announced the literary sensation to the world in 1992 - selling 5m odd copies. In the 760 pages of the hardback edition of her latest work, she is attempting to deal with many weighty subjects of the day, which is not easy. Our world is changing ever faster with the development of communication technology. When you consider the works referred to in The Goldfinch it is apparent she is aiming high from the company she seeks to keep. The picture itself is a masterwork by an obscure Flemish artist - Fabritius - who is the direct link between Rembrandt and Vermeer. The book itself uses the caged bird as an emblem in the same way as Keats, Shelley and Blake;
To see a world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wild flower
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
And eternity in an hour
But a robin redbreast in a cage
Puts all heaven in a rage...
As for prose, there is clearly one book this must be compared to; Dostoyevsky's The Idiot. She alludes to it as the tale nears its conclusion in the same place it begins - Xmas time Amsterdam. "Well, Idiot was very disturbing book to me," says central character, Russian moral loose canon Boris. The ensuing discussion summarises the Idiot's theme; to do good does not always mean good things will result. How much more difficult are these moral dilemmas in 2014 than they were in 1860, 1950 or any other time in history. The Goldfinch is based around a morally questionable act, the taking of a masterpiece from the MOMA in the chaos and debris following an explosion in the bookshop. This is the only time the book reflects that most 21st century threat, the third world terrorist destroying buildings and inevitably killing strangers in the name of religion.
The characters are all such 21st century beings, our teenage narrator, Theo, struggles terribly. His attachment to Boris results in endless drinking, thieving, and girl obsessions. Only Hobie, the furniture and art restorer to whose orbit our narrator is drawn, represents past centuries' certainties; working the wood and grain of a table leg, re-varnishing a picture in the same way it's always been done, even with a hint of a cheat to make it look older than it is, perhaps concealed within his work. Theo, travels from NYC and trust fund wealth to a weird and wild few years with Boris his only friend, living on the fringes of the desert with his father, who is making a shaky living as a gambler in the casinos of Las Vegas. And then back to New York, to be reunited with the security and social stultification of The Barbours, who take him in as an orphan, and an engagement to one of the offspring. And all the while the stolen painting lurks in the background, stashed away, hopefully safe from damage, debt collectors and dodgy teenagers.
The explosion not only has the effect of giving Theo the eponymous masterpiece, he also loses his life's one real constant, his rock; his mother. Its third consequence is to introduce him to his life's love - the young girl at it's time - Pippa.
Theo becomes a drug addict almost by accident, pecking at a snatched bag of pills like they were smarties - how about a red one ? or a green one? And his beloved painting becomes mixed up in the shady world of drug deals, sex deals and people deals that go on in the realms of today's dark side. The one ever constant in this world of shifting sands, rough seas, of betrayal, double dealing and dishonesty, is the things, the art we leave behind. For some, life becomes entwined with the preservation of these objects of desire and beauty. But to the work of art, to The Goldfinch,and the artists that create them, we are mere ciphers of the future.

Here's a couple of extracts from this tremendous page turner..The first is almost thrown away , nothing much is happening, but Theo is in the midst of drug withdrawal and some of the certainties on which his self confidence depends have been whisked from under him, like a table cloth pulled so fast it leaves all the cups and saucers still standing on the table, but the tall glasses are wobbling precariously . This paragraph is magic, its sweep a microcosm of the vast array of human experience, works and thought that is touched on in the book, pointing to the infinities Blake may be referring to in the poem quoted above.

This second page is another lovely example of Donna Tartt's talent of bringing a clever idea about art into the centre of the action, without any feeling you are in a digression. This idea that all great art touches you on a personal level is so skilfully delivered. And how true it is of books like this one, as well as bands, plays, poems, songs. They speak to you . Tolstoy would regularly hold the action in War and Peace while he inserted long essay about military tactics. Dostoyevsky similarly would divert from the narrative to insert passages about ideology. That other great tome known to all graduates of American Literature, Moby Dick, has chapters devoted purely to the various processes that were part of the whaling profession in the 18th century. Tartt repeats herself slightly in the enjoyable last 10 pages that act as a summary of ideas. The action has concluded to all intents. The delightful piece on the way The Goldfinch has been created, the use of the brush and the blunt, scalpel like application of some of the paint, has already been discussed in Horst's drug den, in a joyously intellectual and knowledgeable level at odds with the environment. But I enjoyed the analysis of the work so much, I was happy to read it again.

Having finished the 760 pages in about three weeks, I immediately returned to the beginning to start again. My main objective was to find out when you first learn the sex of the narrator. I still cannot identify anything within the first ten pages. You try.

Budgie likes De Sade, but wants a Rokoro most

The Other Art Fair - Ambika 3 - Marylebone Road NW1 . 24-04-14

Every artist i spoke to seemed well pleased with the reception they had received from the packed preview night at this hangar like basement opposite Madame Tussauds. There was a general buzz of appreciation as we gently navigated our way through the vast array of art on show. Standard price was £200 - £400 for an original piece, with not a lot on offer for £30 as advertised. Not one thing, except a drink at the bar perhaps.
Some lovely taxidermy was in one corner, including a gorgeous peacock. Intricate wire works featuring the Moulin Rouge and other buildings had me fooled into thinking we had found the 3D printing stall. David Wombwell has created some nice graphic art including a homage to Picasso that caught my attention. Penny Stanway was well worth a linger but there were a few stand out artists who deserve a special mention.

Dolores De Sade had a nice line in inventive scenes including two pieces named "Apparatus for inducing Vertigo" which were really special in their simplicity. Her smoking monkey holding a dog by the tail was striking and carried a cruel theme that runs through a lot of her work. She is one to watch and I feel sure she must be a branch of the Marquis' family tree. She told me it's possible. No, probable, i replied. And I mean that as a compliment!

Dolores De Sade listens politely to your correspondent

For artistic accomplishment, the laurels were shared by the austere work of David Stockley, a regular at the fair. His painting of travelers in front of a London station has so much atmosphere I was reminded of Edward Hopper and Last Tango in Paris at the same time. Colour ran riot in Thomas Dowdeswells sweet shapes of Velodrome, working Leger and Riley at the same time...

Processed People by Thomas Dowdeswell.

But star of the show was not Tracey Emin, although the camera crews and crowd must have made her feel that way.The cut out Boys Own annuals of Alexander Korzer Robinson - see Rokoro.co.uk - were stunningly beautiful and brilliant. £425 seems reasonable for a one off creation, the pages of the book have been cut out to reveal a multi layered journey of dazzling originality and forethought. True one-offs, the books have glass panel covers through which you can pick out multiple scenes of life and thought, that have been left visible when the rest of the book has been discarded. You can literally look through the book without touching it.The prints were another masterpiece of care and precise scissor and scalpel work by another Robinson, Robert.Pete  in Baker St