16 Things I Learned in 7 Months in London

1. There are 7.4 million people living in London, and some of these people are even from London. In seven months I've only met six people who were born and raised in London, and still live here. One of them, a co-worker in fact, established his London credentials by telling me that his great-great-grandfather was George Hutchinson, the witness who provided the most detailed description of Jack the Ripper. Hutchinson's description is a little too detailed for some Ripper investigators, which is why he's number twelve on the list of favoured Jack the Ripper suspects.
   
   
2. There are 60 million people living in the United Kingdom, and at least 20 million are stuck in a queue, somewhere, at any given moment in time. Queuing is a national past-time, like hunting, polo, and whingeing. There might be five cash machines at the major intersection of Cambridge Circus (where Shaftesbury Avenue meets Charing Cross Road), but you will still always see at least three people queueing for each machine. I suspect that I spent one of my first seven months in a queue.
   
   
3. Customer service does not exist in England, at least not at the levels we are accustomed to in Australia. It took me 6.5 weeks to get the internet connected. When I call the HSBC telephone number - there is only one nation-wide - I speak with a customer service agent in India, with a strong Indian accent, who is adamant his name is Steve... And yet he doesn't know how to spell Fenchurch or St Paul's.
   
   
4. London teaches you to be selfish. If you see something you want in London - and I mean anything, let the mind run wild here - you must get it then and there. Come back a day later, you'll find it's gone, and you'll never see it ever again. Come back a few days later and it'll still be gone, but at least there'll be something else you want anyway.
   
   
5. London is seriously expensive, easily beating New York and Tokyo for the "most-expensive" crown. One litre of home-brand orange juice costs £1.19. That's actually (but only just) more expensive than petrol. Want to ride the tube one-way in zone 1 without an Oyster card? That'll be £3, sir.
   
   
6. There are two types of Britons: the chavs and the chav-nots. The chavs are gaudy, bling-loving, ASBO-collecting individuals who aspire to be the next reality TV sensation. They're fond of wearing labelled clothing, especially Burberry tartan. In Australian terms, they're aspirational Westies. And for whatever reason, anyone from Essex is assumed to be a chav. Apart from the dreadful Essex accent, I don't buy into it. Frankly, it all smells a little too much like ye-olde-worlde English class war, in a new century.
   
   
7. There is serious wealth in London. I don't mean the DINK couples with a flat in Hampstead, two cars, and weekends on the continent. I mean Kashoggi levels of 80s wealth that would trump Trump. Every time I balk at an outrageous price tag, it sticks at the back of the mind that they can charge that price, because there are plenty of willing people, with the cash, to pay for it.
   
   
8. London is a city of contrasts. It's not unusual to see a homeless person camped out on Fleet Street, sleeping off the night before, in view of the Royal Courts of Justice. At least I fall into the category of people who acknowledge the homeless, and politely decline their requests for money. Most Londoners just ignore them and walk on by as if they don't exist. The homeless numbers exceed Australia, but aren't anything like I found in New York. Some homeless people are on the streets for stupid reasons, like when the government closed the mental institutions and forced the patients to look after themselves. The irony of course, is that England is the original welfare state.
   
   
9. London is mostly, even these days, a city of manners. I travelled through Japan, Toronto, Ottawa, Montreal, and New York City, and not once did a single stranger offer to help me carry two oversized bags up or down stairs. (I didn't expect it either, but that's not my point). That's why I was so pleasantly surprised in London, on my first tube trip, when two separate strangers offered to help me cart the bags up and down stairs. And a few other people helped me to avoid being trapped, or my bags trapped, in the automatic doors. Even in the horrendous queues, people (mostly) say excuse me, and please, and thank you. We may live like rats, but life is civil in England, and arguably how it should be, just like the tube seating. Name one other major city that shuns hard plastic benches on its mass transit system, in favour of comfortable sprung and upholstered seating.
   
   
10. The thing I equally love and hate about London is that there are so many options for things to do. It's not unusal for me to spend three hours on a Saturday or Sunday just deciding what I want to do that day. And by the time I decide what to do, it takes a half-day battle on tube and on foot to get there. In winter, I'm left with two hours to actually do something before the sun sets at 3:50pm.
    
    
11. London gets a (really) bad rap about the weather. It's never quite as cold as the forecast suggests, especially where I live in central London. The density of the population, buildings, machinery, and exhausts all conspire to raise the temperature a few degrees, and keep at bay the extremities that produce sleet and snow. Mostly it's cool, dark, and drizzly, like living in a defrosting refrigerator.
    
    
12. You can do whatever you want in London. Wear what you want, be who you want, and do what you want. There are few rules, and few exceptions. People still smoke in restaurants, for God's sake, although this, like many things, is changing. And yet despite the freedom, and the occasional suicide bomber, it's a remarkably safe city. According to Liberty, there is one CCTV camera for every 14 people in the UK. On average, each Londoner appears on 300 CCTV cameras every single day.
    
    
13. London is a city of of tolerance. When Australia was recently embroiled in a stupid debate over RU486, England was questioning whether to introduce home abortion kits. Things may not be quite as tolerant elsewhere in the UK, but London determines the direction. And that direction suggests there are more important issues than stressing over gay marriage, kerbing free speech, or determining the moral standards for people's lives.
    
    
14. London is divided into the dawdlers and the determined. Under no circumstances should two or more people walk single file, especially when walking in a narrow Victorian lane,especially in the West End, and especially when I'm fully laden with groceries travelling in the opposite direction. Once I used to make way for the dawdling crowd. Now I stand firm like Gibraltar and let the sea wash around me. Still, this is one of my pet hates about London life, and I won't let up on it until Mayor Ken introduces a Pedestrian C-Charge.
    
    
15. It took me a long time to learn many of the above-mentioned things, and even longer to decipher the theme that runs through many of these points. That is, London is a densely-built, over-populated, and under-serviced city. It offers everything you want, and anything you can imagine, at the expense of living like a rat clamouring for resources. This predicament is manageable, but barely tarnishes the wondrous experience of living in London. Madonna may sing about loving New York, but she lives in London, and for good reason, I'd argue. As Dr Samuel Johnson wrote, "when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can afford."
    
    
16. Lastly, but not without significance, I learned in London that absence does indeed make the heart grow fonder. At least it did in my case.
    

EDIT: I've since posted a follow-up to this post.

Greetings from SQ321

Singapore Airlines now offer in-flight wireless internet services on their long haul flights between London and Singapore. Right now I'm ON the plane, flying over India, sending e-mails, surfing the web on my PDA, and chatting to Kerby and Katherine on MSN Messenger. It's very impressive, and very cool.

The Omen

This church features in The Omen, in the pivotal scene where Father Brennan (Patrick Troughton) faces the wrath of Satan.

This is All Saints Church in Fulham, bordering Bishops Park. The park, and its riverfront promenade, also appear in the film. I have a few more photos here.

Oxfordshire and the Cotswolds

A few months back I realised how rarely I travel in a motor car in London. Living in the West End, I rarely even need to use the tube. The tube is very convenient for travelling long distances, but a waste of time for short trips. London may be a huge city, but, unless you're the Queen or Madonna, you come to accept that walking is the most efficient mode of transport.

All of my London car trips have been in taxis, and usually in the wee (and not so wee) hours of the morning. Still, I've discovered how exciting London can be, when viewed from a black cab at flat-pedalled speed. It's easy to feel like the sovereign at times like this. Perhaps it's the sensation of exclusivity in a city that thrives on public transport.

The lure of viewing England from the driver's seat, coupled with my desire to travel once a month, and coming off the back of a festive season that hit my wallet and sanity, I decided to travel to Oxfordshire and the Cotswolds on the weekend of 11/12 February. But first, I needed a car. The nearest Hertz is in Russell Square, about 10 minutes walk from my flat. My journey began on Saturday morning in a tiny Ford Festive, hired for the princely sum of £31 per day, inclusive of corporate discount.

I am a little scared of London drivers, and with good reason, but it was pretty painless once on the road. The first thing I noticed is how easy it is to get out of London. My Google Maps instructions said to drive north from Russell Square, and turn left at Euston Road. This is the only turn I needed to make to travel 50 miles to Oxford ring road! The major arterials in and out of London follow ancient paths meaning that they're straight, and easy to follow. Either that, or (more likely) the town planners had a lot of fun laying out a city that's easier to get out of, than across.

Of course, while that might have been the only turn I had to make, I did get lost, once. I blame the road engineers. Where four roads meet anywhere else in the world, the engineers install a set of traffic lights. In England, they put in a three lane roundabout... with traffic lights at every on-ramp... and umpteen exits. It's confusing, and scary.

Road madness aside, my trip was also broken by a short detour. Wallingford is a small town about 15 miles shy of Oxford. While the town has considerable historical significance, the purpose of my visit was a pilgrimage of sorts, as Wallingford is where Agatha Christie lived in the latter years of her life. She lived at Winterbrook House with her second husband, Max Mallowan, who was famous in his own right as an archaeologist. Winterbrook is said to be the inspiration for Miss Marple's fictional home of Danemead. Wallingford also turns up in the Marple books as the town of Market Basing. A few miles to the south is the village of Cholsey, where Christie was buried in the beautiful churchyard of St Mary's.

I headed north from Cholsey to Blenheim Palace (just past Oxford). Blenheim is the seat of the Dukes of Marlborough, and home to the Spencer-Churchill family. John Churchill, the first duke, commanded the English army in the War of Spanish Succession, against the French. Queen Anne ordered the construction of Blenheim Palace as a gift from a grateful nation. Despite this royal decree, the construction of Blenheim Palace was not without controversy. This is English tradition continues to this day; Wembley Stadium being a contemporary example. The exact cost is unknown, the estimates shrouded by construction delays and fights over who would pay. What is known is that the public purse contributed £240,000 to a total cost not less than £325,000, which in today's money is £45 million. Walking around the grounds, one can't help but think that this is a good investment. I'd like to see what Aaron Spelling's house looks like in 300 years.

Blenheim is jaw-droppingly impressive. The tour includes the formal areas inside the palace, and (paying) visitors are free to walk the grounds. The sheer scale of the palace is hard to grasp, let alone the idea that it was, and still is (in part), a family home. If Blenheim looks familiar, you'll have seen it in countless films and television productions. It turns up as the home of evil August de Wynter (Sean Connery) in The Avengers, doubles as Berlin for a Nazi rally in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, and features prominently in Greystoke: The Legend of Tarzan, Lord of the Apes.

According to the palace's tour guide, Hitler intended to "come and live here". I'm not sure if that meant the palace itself, or just Oxford, as I later discovered that the city was spared German bombing because Hitler intended it to become his English capital. Once I checked into the Oxford guest house where I stayed the night, I sincerely wished Hitler had chosen York or anywhere else for that matter, and razed Oxford. The scary room wasn't dirty, thankfully, but it was very, very old. Right down to the 70s line drawing, of a pouting hippy, on the wall.

In fairness, it's hard to describe any part of Oxford without using "old" in the description. Magdalen School was built in 1400-something. I stopped for a coffee at the Queen's Lane Coffee House, which is Oxford's oldest operating cafe. It opened in 1650-something. Roaming the little streets around the coffee shop, I saw Magdalen College, New College, Corpus Christi College, and the beautiful Radcliffe Camera. Unfortunately, Oxford's pleasant atmosphere doesn't extend far beyond the boundaries of its famous colleges. The central shopping mall, running off the high street, is crass and commercial, and "Anywhere, England". One of Wallingford's charms was the strict town planning rules governing signage, forcing chain stores like Pizza Express to blend into the rural streetscape. This was sorely missing in Oxford.

But the most annoying thing about Oxford is that the entire city is a car-free zone. Residents are allowed to get parking permits, but everyone else has to park on the outskirts of town and get a bus in. This is sensible given that narrow mediaeval lanes are now expected to carry two-way traffic, but it makes driving a nightmare experience for anyone from out-of-town. And the problem is not unique to Oxford. I wasted 25 teeth-grinding minutes at Wallingford, playing musical parking bays in Waitrose' huge car park. With maybe 80 parking bays, and 100 cars, the near-never-ending game nearly had me in tears, as I drove round and round the brand spanking new car park, while cursing the crap architectural decision to not build multi-storey or below ground. For all this nation's wonders and treats, this is s another example of that unique English level of incompetence (or dildometry, as one of my co-workers is fond of saying), that creeps up on you just when you think you're sure (finally) that you're in a first-world nation.

After Sunday morning in Oxford, I headed north-west to Bourton-on-the-Water, in the Cotswolds. The travel blurb describes Bourton as England's answer to Venice. It is true that there is a canal in Bourton, and cloudy skies just like when I visited Venice, but that's the limit the comparison. Still, Bourton is quaint and very charming, and worth a visit for an hour or so, or longer, if the Victorian attractions of the Giant Hedge Maze and Birdland catch your fancy. How bored were they back then? There is also a car museum at the end of the high street. I didn't visit, but according to the signage, it's the home of Brum.

The Cotswolds are beautiful, but I suspect they are far prettier with the lush flora and blue skies that come with the summer months. I drove south through the water park, towards the M4. Around this time of my trip, it struck me just how small Great Britain actually is. Time permitting, I had hoped to visit Bristol, but expected to be waylaid long before by poor roads, and insurmountable distance. I left Bourton around 3:30, and made it to Bristol well before 6pm. That left me plenty of time to visit Brunel's impressive Clifton Suspension Bridge, have dinner, and make my way back to London, arriving by 10pm.

I only wish I remembered to fill up the tank before returning the car to Hertz. Thoughout the trip I was paying £1 ($2.30) per litre at the pump. I didn't even get a smile with that from the sales clerks. The first time I remembered to fill the car before returning it, was when the Hertz invoice arrived a few days later. By my rough calculations, Hertz charged at least £2 per litre. Nice.

Dame Helen

(The fabulous) Helen Mirren goes to my gym, as I discovered this morning. And I think, but I'm not sure, that her partner Taylor Hackord was dutifully waiting for her in the gym's coffee shop. Knowing how much Kerby loves her, and personally considering The Long Good Friday in my top-ten all-time favourite films, I really had to struggle to keep a straight face. I might have to switch my usual gym attendance from evening to morning. There is more to look at in the evening, but evidently the morning clientele is far more interesting.

Smoking Banned in Pubs (but not Subs)

Parliament has voted to ban smoking in all public places, effective from the middle of next year. I can't accurately describe the significance of this issue, or its impact, because nearly everyone smokes at pubs and clubs. The level of smoking here is mind-boggling, and is just as it was in Australia about twenty years ago. Restaurants still have smoking tables, with no real barrier between the sections. Often they're right next to each other! Once the ban comes into effect, you will only be able to smoke in your own home, provided you don't work from home and provided customers don't attend your home to do business.

Smokers who are unable to flick the habit, should consider enlisting in the British Navy. While you won't be able to smoke in a pub, from the middle of next year, you will still be able to smoke in a sub. Yes, that's right, the British Navy allows its officers to smoke in submarines!!

On the Buses

I'm reading Do Not Pass Go by Tim Moore. It's a London travel guide, approaching the city's geography and history through the streets, stations, and districts found on a Monopoly board. Moore is hilarious; his style being very similar to Bill Bryson. The most recent chapter concerned Monopoly's "Free Parking" space, approached from the perspective of how expensive car parking is in London. Most of the chapter concerns Moore's hilarious adventure test-driving an electric vehicle. Not for the environmental benefit, but to test Westminster council's policy of free street parking for electric vehicles. The free parking policy holds true, but comes at the cost of driving a vehicle whose horn sounds like "someone down the road receiving a text message".

But surely the funniest revelation in the chapter is a quote from Margaret Thatcher. London's bus services were deregulated in 1986. More concerned with freeing up road space for gas-guzzling Bentleys than reducing road traffic, and demonstrating a remarkable lack of insight into the lives of everyday people, the Prime Minister declared in a House of Commons debate, "A man who, beyond the age of 26, finds himself on a bus can count himself as a failure." Now that is funny.

Boldly Going

The National Film Theatre has let me down the last few months. I only bothered to see two films in that time, and the only retrospective of interest was that one that skimmed over Michael Caine's work. Skim being the operative word. As Caine freely admits, he chooses work on the basis of (i) how much he's paid, and (ii) where the film is shooting. Steve Martin claims that Caine accepted Dirty Rotten Scoundrels immediately after reading the first line of the script:
1. FRANCE - EXT. DAY

Back to me, my protest against the NFT has taken the form of purchasing theatre tickets. Nine shows booked in the last ten days, and counting, although among these are chats and an orchestral performance, and most are for when I return from Australia. Last week I saw a preview performance of The Creeper, starring Ian Richardson, best known for playing the Machiavellian Prime Minister Francis Urqhuart in the BBC's early 90s House of Cards trilogy. Richardson plays a wealthy mad old queen who likes to manipulate the lives of his live-in paid male companions. Sadly, the play was rather average, and shows weary signs of its 40 year age.

This evening I attended a chat at the National Theatre titled Remembering Arthur Miller. The event was hosted by the author of a book of the same name, who knew Miller and provided some interesting anecdotes. But the stars of the night were his guests: Vanessa Redgrave and Patrick Stewart, both of whom had wonderful stories to share about their friendship and experience of working with Miller. His last play, Resurrection Blues, opens at the Old Vic tomorrow evening, starring Neve Campbell and Matthew Modine, directed by Robert Altman. I guess that makes ten tickets.

Basic Instinct 2: Risk Addiction

The trailer is up. Check it out here. I hope it's as good as the trailer suggests. Basic Instinct 2 was filmed in London. The Gherkin figures heavily on the opening of the trailer. The crime scene looks like the dodgier parts of Soho. And the car accident appears to be Canary Wharf.

London in the Winter

In mid-December, I started writing a post about London in the winter. Overflowing with flowery phrases like "the mercury has dropped","winter wonderland", and "Christmas shopping frenzy", it's probably a good thing I never got around to finishing it. I was distracted from my blogging duties by the most unlikely of reasons: the festive season. Years of Australian heat and humidity, and cynically-charged last-minute mad-dashes through the Myer Centre, have waned my interest in Christmas. But here in London, in wintertime, I've rediscovered its joy.

In a recent e-mail, Kevin mentioned how beautiful London is in the wintertime. He's right, and I'm almost ashamed to admit that I caught myself "walking in a winter wonderland" on more than one occasion. I have tagged all the photos under Christmas Decorations. Curious why has it taken eight weeks to post these photos? I blame a schedule of festive season festivities, that started early-December, lasted two months, and would scare Kate Moss, or even Johnny Depp in his day.

The only thing missing from my London photos is snow. It's only snowed once during this entire winter, partly because January was so dry (we're in the middle of a drought), and partly because it doesn't really snow that often in London. Especially in Central London where I live. The day it snowed was December 27. I missed the early-morning snowfall as I was sleeping off the night before. But later that day, when I was shopping with Mum and Dad in Carnaby Street, I looked up, to be delighted with the site of snowflakes flying towards me. It snowed heavily that evening as we battled the Christmas sale shoppers in Regent Street. As brief as it was, the snow combined with the twinkling Christmas lights, and our arms laden with heavy bags, it truly felt like Christmas. And it was wonderful.

Mum and Dad arrived in London on 22nd December, and we took the Eurostar over to Paris for a few days there before Christmas. Paris was wonderful. I took a heap of photos which can be viewed in my Paris photo set. We visited the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame Cathedral, the Père Lachaise cemetery, the Louvre, and even managed a few brief hours walking around La Marais (“the marsh”) shopping district and gay heart of Paris.

On Christmas Day, Mum, Dad, and I had lunch at the Butler's Wharf Chop House, a Conran restaurant next to (and with spectacular views of) the Tower Bridge. After lunch, we walked over the bridge, through the City, and all the way back to Covent Garden.

Christmas night was spent with friends at Mark B's house. I also went out the next night to Salvation, which sadly was the last time it will be held at the beautiful Café de Paris. Too may G casualties have forced the promoters to lose their license at that venue. It's a shame, and I'm not happy about it!

A few days after Christmas, we caught a performance of As You Desire Me at the Playhouse Theatre. This new production of an old Pirandello play starred Bob Hoskins and Kristin Scott Thomas. We had front-row seats, and I've never been more grateful for the opportunity. All the performances were outstanding, but the two leads were exceptional. Scott Thomas played an amnesiac nightclub singer (opening the show with a song) who flaunts her lovers in the face of her crime boss boyfriend (Hoskins, of course). The tension was palpable from the very first scene, and barely let up even after Hoskins' character shoots himself in the head in the shocking blood-soaked conclusion to the first act. The whole audience jumped, we included, at this sensational theatrical showmanship.

The rest of my week with Mum and Dad was spent shopping at the post-Christmas sales (which are wonderful here, with real reductions), riding the London Eye, and visiting the Royal Naval College and Royal Observatory (home of the Prime Meridian) at Greenwich. The Chapel at the Royal Naval College is absolutely stunning. If it looks familiar, it was used for the location of the second wedding in Four Weddings and a Funeral.

On their last day in London, I surprised Mum and Dad with afternoon tea at Fortnum & Mason, which was delicious. Even the £91 bill was exquisitely presented. I really enjoyed our time together, and was sad to see Mum and Dad go. I later worked out that the last time I spent that length of time with them was in December 1996... nine years ago!

My New Year's Eve was fairly quiet. Not wanting to brave the zero-degree temperature, Mark B wisely offered to host a house party at his place. It was nice to see in the new year in with friends, though it did feel strange not being with Paul.

As for the last five weeks, I have little more to report without going into unnecessary detail concerning the cycle of violence that is work, gym, and weekend festivities. Last week's visit to the Tate Modern is worthy of mention. I went to see a Rousseau exhibition (I like his style, but I thought the exhibition rather average), and the EMBANKMENT installation, comprising 14,000 box casts that make the Turbine Hall look like a sugar bowl. I also snapped some great photos of the city (including the new blog banner above).

On a separate occasion, also of note, I returned to Greenwich to visit the Cutty Sark (a tea clipper permanently on display in a dry dock). From Greenwich I walked back to Canary Whaf, via the Greenwich foot tunnel. Only in London will you find a community farm, complete with sheep herd, within a kilometre of the skyscraper district.

This Is London

According to the The Evening Standard (available on-line at http://www.thisislondon.co.uk), Judi Dench is too old for American TV. Too smart, I'd say.

Madonna's marriage is allegedly on the rocks, following rumours that the remix artist (and occasional singer) is getting cozy with her 28 year old producer, Stuart Price. Mind you, last month the Standard claimed that Madonna is losing her hair.

Plastic couple Peter Andre and Jordan top the year's worst-dressed list, while Cocaine Kate clings on to the number one spot on the best-dressed list.

And finally, Clive Owen confirms what we've known all along. That he was repeatedly offered the role as the new James Bond, the perfect choice IMHO, and turned it down every time... the fool!

Trawling the Internet

The News of the World's three leading headlines concern celebrity antics, supporting my belief that England is a nation of starfuckers. I'm sure they only keep the royal family for celebrity factor.

First up, BECK OFF, where David Beckham is caught on-camera having a go at a paparazzo. You can even watch the outburst in Real or Windows Media formats on the NotW website.

Then there's DANNII'S LESBIAN CCTV SEX.

And finally the News has caught out Ralph Fiennes cheating on long-term older partner Francesca Annis, in ANOTHER FIENNES MESS.

Given the celebrity obsession it goes without saying that News of the World is a Murdoch paper, and in a way it's the Sunday issue of the The Sun. It's sensationalised content fetches the nicknames "Screws of the World" and "Sex 'n' Scandal Weekly".

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A few months back, I forwarded a link to The Australian ("Storm sounded like a terrorist bomb") to my work colleagues. I thought it was very funny, but it went over like a lead balloon. Not one person laughed. They didn't even acknowledge receiving it. It took me ages to realise that Al-Qaeda jokes don't always go down well with Londoners. Whoops about that!

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Crazy fact of the day: Did you know that Lois Maxwell, who played Miss Moneypenny in 14 Bond films, now resides in Perth!? Crazy!

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And finally here are some videos that have brought a smile to my face:
- The MossTrill 5000, which every household needs;
- Soulwax's excellent E Talking music video; and
- a funny parody of Madonna's Hung Up music video.

Crisis in the Japanese Royal Family

I've been following with great interest the looming crisis for Japan's Royal Family. The present situation is very interesting, and in my opinion, a rare occasion when Japan's "traditions" (regarded as bigotry by the progressive Japanese and gaijin alike) are unmasked for all to see.

The Crown Prince, Naruhito, and his wife, Masako (a commoner, as the newspapers are eager to mention), have been unable to have a son. They have a daughter, of course, but that doesn't count in Japan because the monarchy uses the "agnatic primogeniture" system, where only males may succeed to the throne. The stress on Masako has been so severe, she has had a nervous breakdown and is now rarely seen in public. Great-going, Japan. I wonder if they believe it's her fault because she's a commoner, or because she's a woman?

A bill has been presented that will change the line of succession to absolute-equal primogeniture (succession to the eldest child, regardless of gender) but the conservatives and traditionalists will have none of it. This will end 2500 years of male lineage. And it might mean that the Empress will have children with a "blue-eyed foreigner". OH MY GOD!! The ultimate royal horror: racial inter-breeding!

And why is there a need for equality in the royal family line of succession, when there are other alternatives, as the traditionalists suggest. Japan could reinstate the royal credentials of the Royal Family's relatives, stripped after World War II, thereby extending the line of succession. Or the Crown Prince could be "encouraged" to take concubines to produce royal issue. The irony of all this talk of wives failing their royal duty and the necessity to take concubines, is that it's the sperm of the male that determines the gender of the child. So really, Crown Prince Naruhito is to "blame", if this is to be an issue at all.

And there you have it. Hidden deep in this issue is the shameful belief that the Crown Prince, and future Emperor, must be infallible... even though this very issue was supposed to be resolved 60 years ago, being crucial to the peace deal that allowed the monarchy to survive World War II.

Note: since writing this post, it was announced that Prince Akishino's wife, Princess Kiko, is pregnant. Akishino is brother to Crown Prince Naruhito, and the possibility that Kiko may produce male issue has temporarily ended the succession law debate.

The State of Cinema

The Oscar nominations are out, and the consensus is that the Academy chose to honour the smaller, independent films with political and social messages. It's one of Hollywood's running retorts to the cycle of fear perpetuated by the Bush Administration.

A few weeks ago I attended an NFT screening of Breakfast on Pluto, followed by a Q&A session with the film's director, Neil Jordan (The Crying Game, Interview with the Vampire), and lead actor, Cillian Murphy (Red Eye, 28 Days Later). An audience-member asked why so many new films, including Breakfast on Pluto, might be viewed as a reflection of the war in Iraq, or shenanigans in the White House. In Jordan's view, there is definitely a movement that is trying to present an alternate view. He compares the phenomena to what happened in 1980s Britain, under Thatcher's rule. So many films released during that period, and Jordan counts his own among them, are a retort to Thatcherism, be that a conscious directorial decision, or the critics' subsequent reading of the film's themes. Cinema became a voice for the marginalised and repressed. This issue of alternate voices is also addressed in an MSNBC interview, published a few days ago, with this year's five Oscar nominated directors. It's an entertaining read, peppered with George Clooney's banter, but also very perceptive about the state of cinema.

I love popcorn cinema, and by that I mean the high-conceptaction/adventure/thrillers, as much as the next person... But provided they are well-made, which is so rarely the case these days. I'm tired of wasting two hours watching mediocre efforts. How many times have you left the cinema thinking "yeah, it was okay", but you struggle to remember the big set-pieces or any salient plot point. The whole process has been distilled to a business process that attempts to combine pre-packaged inputs into a sale-able product. (Catwoman, anyone?) What's really depressing is how much money is wasted on some of these films, an average of US$64 million per picture (half of which is advertising). So instead of smaller/riskier/personal projects, the studios gamble more money on the bigger flicks, in the hope of scoring a Titanic or Spiderman, and praying they don't get stuck with Speed 2: Cruise Control or Daredevil. More risk requires more control, and the cycle goes on and on.

On Wikipedia you can find a notional list of films coming out this year.

We're going to see these sequels:
- Bambi II
- Basic Instinct 2: Risk Addiction - yay, Sharon! Check out the poster. Here's hoping it's good.
- Bean 2
- Big Momma's House 2
- Bring It On Yet Again
- Casino Royale, which has started shooting without a villain or Bond girl!
- Clerks II, at least we know this will take the piss out of the whole sequel thing
- Die Hard 4.0
- Dr Doolittle 3
- Final Destination 3
- Garfield 2, but did anyone see the first film?
- The Grudge 2, a sequel, and a remake of the Japanese film
- Ice Age 2
- Ju-On: The Grudge 3, another instalment in the Japanese series
- Mission: Impossible III
- Mortal Kombat: Devastation, ooh, a sequel based on a computer game
- Mrs Doubtfire 2
- Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest
- The Punisher 2
- Rush Hour 3
- Santa Clause 3
- Saw III
- Scary Movie 4
- Sin City 2
- Superman Returns, canonically following Superman II
- The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning, a sequel to a remake
- Underworld: Evolution
- X-Men 3

And these remakes:
- Black Christmas
- Charlotte's Web
- The Hills Have Eyes
- Miami Vice
- Night of the Living Dead 3D
- The Omen 666, which opens on 6/6/06. At least the trailer looks great!
- Piranha
- The Pink Panther
- Poseidon, yes Kevin, get excited 'cause it's the all-new Poseidon Adventure!
- Rambo IV, why?
- The Sentinel
- Sisters
- The Thirty-Nine Steps
- The Topkapi Affair, a remake of 1964's Topkapi, being made as a sequel to Pierce Brosnan's 1999 The Thomas Crown Affair, which itself was a remake!
- When A Stranger Calls

This is the state of cinema. All these products competing for our £11.50 (yes, it costs that much to see a first-run flick in central London). Notice how many horror films are coming out, be they sequels, remakes, or original stories? In my opinion, this isn't a continuation of the post-modern horror films of the late 90s, that started with Scream. When you think about it, that mostly died out years ago. In my opinion, this has more to do with the war in Iraq, and the fear associated with terrorism... just as the 1970s American slasher films evolved from, and in response to, the horror of Vietnam.

On a slightly cheerier note, there are also some original films to keep an eye out for this year:
- Scoop, WoodyAllen's second London-set film
- Slither, a deliciously gross horror film
- V for Vendetta, London-set terror-themed adaptation of a graphic novel
- Children of Men , thriller set in a dystopic future London, based on the PD James novel
- two films based on the Zodiac Killer story, and I know that Marg will see both
- Firewall, a generic Harrison Ford thriller which admittedly might be terrible
- The DaVinci Code
- Colour Me Kubrick, with John Malkovich playing the con artist who impersonated Stanely Kubrick in early 90s London, based on a true story
- The Black Dahlia, from my fave director, Brian De Palma, which is hopefully more Carlito's Way than Mission to Mars.

The flip-side to the high-concept machine of Hollywood cinema is the government subsidised industry we have in Australia, and that other state of cinema, Queensland. The Courier-Mail published a great interview last week with the sunshine state's new film production czar, Henry Tefay. The PFTC, where Tefay works, is responsible for distributing funds to Queensland film-makers to get their projects of the ground. After years of subsidising foreign productions, while shelling out money to a handful of Queensland film-makers whose same names pop up on the list every year, it sounds like the PFTC might finally start encouraging production of local films that audiences want to see. Ultimately, if audiences want to pay to watch high-concept films, even if it is shite like Catwoman, then that's where the market is, and where the jobs are. Thankfully, I think we have a long way to go before Catwoman becomes the milestone of good high-concept cinema!