Busy doing nothing

Book: The Man Without Qualities by Robert Musil
Translated from: German (Austria)
Genre: Classic Novel
Rating: 9/10 utterly delicious … the cynic’s bible

Once again this treasure chest delivers up moments underscoring my direct experience. Today, four of my senior colleagues convened a 45 minute meeting with me to consider how to calculate a weighted average in a report. I tell you no lie!

In his work he found anew day by day the contentment that solid achievement leaves in its wake, and what foreign observers beheld in his countenance was the beaming serenity that comes from operations proceeding in good order. Department One sent a memorandum; Department Two replied; when Department One had been notified of Department One’s reply, it was usually advisable to suggest talking it over in person, and when an agreement had been reached in this fashion, it was decided that nothing could be done about the matter; and so there was always something to do. In addition there were those thousand minor considerations that must not be overlooked. After all, one was always working hand in hand with all the various ministries; one did not want to give offence to the Church; one had to take account of certain persons and social considerations; in short, even on those days when one wasn’t doing anything in particular, there were so many things one had to guard against doing that one had the sense of being kept frantically busy at all times.

Mockumental achievement

Film: For Your Consideration by Christopher Guest
Rating: 7/10 humour used, as it should be, just for laughs

This is the third film I’ve seen from this stable and, if not the best, its still a worthy effort. Previously in Best in Breed and A Mighty Wind, Guest used the mocumentary style to pick fun at (always gently, never sneeringly) a bunch of people who perhaps take themselves too seriously. This time he takes a slightly but not entirely different point of view, following the action in the more classic film format, but using the media as another character in the story so that we are never far from mocumentary.

The story follows the making of an incredibly bad period film (set in 1940s) where a rumour about a possible Oscar for the atrocious leading actress is spun out of proportion until half the cast are tipped for awards and the media vultures who feed on celebrity are gorging themselves.

Most of the best lines in this film are carried by the film-industry hangers-on: the useless agent, the Navajo Indian publicist, the cruel TV gossip-show hosts and the film director. Best of all is Harry Shearer who plays the fifth rate leading actor who is prepared to face any imaginable humiliation to keep working. Worst is a hopelessly mis-cast Ricky Gervais who never manages to make me smile, much less laugh.

The film has not been a massive hit with Guest’s admirers, who have felt he didn’t get enough out of an easy target and showed an over dependence on zany haircuts to get laughs. What is noticeable from all the critics however is that they just can’t pan the film. Every one admires this director’s ability to make us laugh without ever hurting his subjects – he shows so much affection for them that you laugh with them, not at them. I found myself making comparisons with the genuine affection for retro radio shown in Garrison Keillor’s Prairie Home Companion, but this is the more satisfying movie.

An instinct for debasement

Film: Zwartboek (Black Book) by Paul Verhoeven
Rating: 6/10, clichéed story, marred by exploitation of its star

This is a story that has been told many times in one form or another; heroic resistance fighters, beautiful spies, evil Nazis and the inevitable traitor. Although it is a wholly predictable yarn, it is beautifully filmed and Carice van Houten who plays the principle heroine is a fine actress and a feast for the eyes.

Had he left it at that, director Paul Verhoeven would have delivered a respectable if clichéed entertainment, more in the tradition of Hollywood than Europe even if his wooden Nazi brute (played by Waldemar Kobus) made me cringe and the dancing crowds in the street following the liberation lacked all credibility.

It’s clear that Verhoeven himself must know he is not capable of the subtlety required to tell a story well as he reverted to the exploitative form he previously brought us in Basic Instinct. For some reason, he found it necessary to have his star dye her pubic hair on screen, a totally unerotic moment which served only to debase his leading lady. In another childishly pathetic moment his token good Nazi reveals that his erection is simply a concealed pistol.

While the awards this mess picked up at the Nederlands Film Festival might be attributed to nationalistic chauvinism (is this the best they could find?), who can explain what criteria were used to select it as the Best International Film at the Venice Festival?

Ireland of the welcomes (mostly)

The marketing people at Bailey’s Irish Cream seem to have their finger on the pulse. Arriving at Dublin Airport this afternoon, after passing through passport control, I read their big banner advertisement:

The first of many welcomes!

Any other day, the pedant in me would be inclined to contradict such slogans. ‘Close maybe’, I’d think, ‘but in this country, celebrated for its hospitality, a few others have had a chance to slip in the first welcome’.

Sadly, however, on this occasion the perceptive people at Bailey’s got it right. I had just followed a dark-skinned young lady into the passport queue. As I queued, and noted the body language of the customs officer, I anticipated the treatment she would receive. Sure enough, her non-EU blue-coloured passport earned her a gruff “sit over there and I’ll deal with you in a minute”. Not even the courtesy of “please”; no request for other documentation or information. I’ve seen it so often now at Irish ports and airports that it doesn’t surprise me, it just nauseates me. While I expect her to through the proper channels, she needs to be treated with respect and efficiency, not sent to the back of the queue with a contemptuous scowl.  As the possessor of an Irish passport, I’ve never been treated this way in any country though I have often been asked to explain my business there.

For a nation who exported half its population and whose politicians spend their time pleading for illegal Irish emigrants to the USA to be legalised, the treatment of some visitors to our shores is embarrassing. I think Irish people are generally very tolerant towards and curious about visitors and the behaviour I’ve noted at passport control strikes me as unrepresentative of the Irish public. Are customs officers selected for their manner or is it something they’ve learned on the job?