Americans really aren't that popular in England these days. Were they ever? It's their go-getting nature that gets the Brits I think. The Bush administration having done little to illuminate what was always a tainted image. I thought seeing The Holiday last night would cheer me up. And to the horror, I'm sure, of the Brit intelligentsia, it did! The critics lambasted it for its lack of reality and everything else. And as any self-respecting comedy writer knows, comedy don't work if it aint based on experience. That's not to say The Holiday is a great movie. Far from it. But unlike the critics, I actually paid for my ticket. There still resides among the critical fraternity in Britain a desire for flagellistic social realism. I won't bore you with the The Holiday's story that you can get elsewhere. Cute kids, cute dog, cute and conspicuously consumed houses abound in this movie. But they really do exist in the world, like it or not. I have met women pretty much the ilk of Cameron Diaz's character, though the bra on after an evening's sex with Jude Law is pure Republican Americana. Or maybe she was just a shy gal! The Guardian called it a "train-wreck of a film". Well, let me tell you. The number of people I have met who'll tell you that transport in England isn't that bad and is improving is astonishing. This morning the excuses for tube delays were people falling ill on the trains. Hard to verify that one isn't it? Talk about sugar coating a cyanide pill! Vote Walt Disney for Prime Minister! Would I, in a fit of Noel whimsy and despair, swap my deluxe LA pad for a Beatrix Potter rabbit hutch in Surrey? Probably, yes. And I'd certainly go the other way if I were Kate Winslet (as she did in fact in real life but to NYC and a great deal wealthier than her character). And neither Jude Law nor Jack Black seems like the axe-murderers critics make them out to be. And maybe a few of the young audiences will wonder who the hell is Eli Wallach and what did he go through? Sure beats reality TV or doing Christmas shopping in the battle ground of central London!
In the same time it takes the Hollywoodettes to get re-hung (5 minutes less in fact at 133 min) you could learn an artist’s secrets of painting a quince tree in Victor Erice’s The Quince Tree Sun [1992, and alas not yet available on DVD through distributorArtificial Eye]. In a free for all screening yesterday at the National Gallery, it was a strangely engrossing movie where you end up feeling like Peter Sellers in Being There. Perfect if you’ve smoked too much salmon over Christmas.
The 'to be championed' 3 year-old indie distributor Dogwoof Pictures have the Bosnian Berlin Fest. Silver Bear winner Esma's Secret on XMas release. As dedicated and finely done as it is it seems a strange time of year to release this film. Maybe those Guardian readers will be flocking to see it after their morally debauched New Year.
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