As the twinkly, frosty, multi-coloured joy of Christmas shimmers into view all around us, I'm sure the question that burns most brightly in your mind is this:
"What were Rob's favourite films, television programmes and books of the year? I need to know, so I can pass on the wisdom to future generations, so they might build on this knowledge, and grow in their appreciation of intelligence and beauty, and never again wage meaningless war, or make another film like Marley and Me."
Well, worry not. Over the next few days I will be entertaining you with my (correct) opinions on the cultural output of the year, and you will come to understand why I am right and why your ideas are half formed, ill considered and ultimately pointless.
We'll start with films.
For various reasons, I've not seen as many films this year as I did last (88 as opposed to 128, though I may pick up a few points over the holidays). Part of this is down to an increased love of television, with much more of my screen time being devoted to wolfing down seasons of brilliant TV shows like The Sopranos, 30 Rock and The Fades (more on them in future). Part of it is probably due to an increased love of sleep.
Anyways. For the next few days, here's a selection of what stood out for me. I think a few of them are actually from last year, but I only got to see them this year, and it's my list, so they count, so just get off my case! Today: the bad.
The Bad
Just one film in this section.
Hereafter
Yes, Clint Eastwood, that's right. I'm calling you out on this dreadfully muddled, irrelevant waste of my time. I don't care if you're a skilled actor, versatile director and, even past your 70s, still a better fighter than me. Hereafter is officially rubbish.
It starts well enough. There's a very impressive recreation of a tsunami devastating a costal town, which gave a kind of terrifying baptism to my new surround sound system and made me feel like maybe I was actually going to die along with all the people on screen. A woman is dragged under the waves, and has a beautifully shot near-death experience, all shimmery weirdness and seismic shifts in the sound picture. It is powerful and impressive and makes you think "Hey - this is going to be an exciting, involving movie!"
In this thought, you are incorrect.
What follows is a narrative mess that takes two hours to go absolutely nowhere. Three unconnected stories wander about for a bit, mumbling about death and stuff, and then randomly meet at the end, for no apparent reason, and then everyone goes, "Oh." Then there are some credits, and the realisation that you could have watched five episodes of 30 Rock instead, and then anger.
I don't mind a film being a bit obscure and oblique... there's plenty of joy to be had in a suspended chord, left hanging and unresolved in the air. But that has to feel deliberate, and has to be part of an actual structure of some kind: lack of resolution only has impact if you were expecting resolution in the first place. In Hereafter, I never really understood why anything was happening, or why we were meant to care. So Matt Damon is doing a cooking class... and he's maybe a psychic, but doesn't want to be... and then there's a boy in London whose brother died and he's all sad... and then the woman who nearly died in the tsunami... is a bit morose and wandery... No, sorry. I don't care.
So, you see, you're wiser already. You now know not to watch Hereafter, so I've saved you two hours.
Unless you've watched it already, in which case I've helped you realise that you were correct to have been bored to tears by its wandery nonsense-ness.
Unless you liked it, in which case... hello Mr Eastwood. Please don't fight me.
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