Friday, September 24, 2010

Friday 24 September 2010

Dream: I am somewhere it is raining and the roof is leaking.  I sit watching, doing nothing about it.

Today I awaken one minute before my alarm thinking I still have sleep to spare.  So sadly I am wrong.

Things are looking up today.  I am relieved that this week is almost over.

From here I trawl through proceedings as I eventually leave the flat to a fresh bin bag sat outside my neighbours’ door.  Fortunately it does not stink as the communal windows all remain open and the landing is fresh.  It is a very noticeable gesture so hopefully my neighbours will pick up on this.  That said as I get in my car I look up at their bedroom window to notice it is wide open.  In this climate?  Are they kidding?  Her nipples must be rock hard by now.

I wind up driving to the station slightly early which serves to make all things feel leisurely as I listen to Chris Moyles backtrack on his salary rant from Wednesday morning.  People aren’t going to forget this bleeding heart gesture in a hurry.

Eventually I park up and take up my perch on the platform, all done on autopilot.  Naturally I spot the Mindy lookalike, which is always disheartening and will probably be playing on my mind for the next few weeks now.

Luckily my attention is soon distracted towards the vision that is Epiphany Girl looking as amazing as ever.  As she passes by a strange thing happens as she stops and briefly stands behind me to wait for the train before moving on.  Is she messing with me?

Today it is a quiet train; I guess everyone has started their weekend already.

At Ingatestone (always at Ingatestone) an upscale chav sits opposite me.  One of his first gestures is to pull both (BOTH) hoods up on his hoodie then coat over his head.  What is it with people and hooded garments?  And why does he wait until he is inside to do such a thing?  He is inside now, he is amongst friends.  From here he proceeds to play some crappy platform game on his iPhone which appears to require him to lean forwards into me.  With his cheap clothes, cheap look and cheap demeanour I feel almost induced to vomit with his invasion of my personal space.  This generation is fucked; all these doomed bastards just look like characters and extras from Eastenders.  Eastenders is not art imitating life, it is life imitating art.

Thankfully the train eventually pulls into Liverpool Street where I find myself inadvertently trailing Epiphany Girl to the barriers.  She wears a cream/beige raincoat and strangely one of the most appealing/attractive things I find about her is the way that the arms conceal her hand and it just looks to large for her.  Strange.

I arrive onto the tube platform to be met by the sight of Bellalike and a Circle Line train filled to the brim of hapless extras sat in the station going nowhere in a hurry.  They should live like me.

From here things begin to get tense as an incoherent Information Jimmy hardly inspires confidence as he delivers a line of events that nobody understands.  I guess things are clearer on the train as eventually an exodus off the train occurs.  By this stage I almost find myself moved to the point of saying to Bellalike “what the fuck?”

Suddenly a few beeps emerge from the door of the now deserted tube and I jump on only to find myself humiliated by my stunt action/gesture that was for nothing, hardly being warranted or required as the train remains sat stationary.  By this time Information Jimmy is now slightly more coherent and the good word is that the beaching is due to signalling trouble at Baker Street.

Finally the train moves but only onto Moorgate where we once more pause for thought.  As people board they all appear intent on invading my personal space.  With this I get tetchy and begin kicking out at heels.  Of course we can’t remain stranded forever and finally the train gets to Baker Street where the walk from the Hammersmith & City/Circle Line to the Jubilee Line is a pathetically arduous one which ultimately sees me barging out of the way people who are coming up the stairs the wrong way on the down side of the staircase.  I really am not making friends today.

In the end I get to work around 9AM, to the sight of the roving chef sat outside the restaurant taking in the morning.  I wonder if he realises that we are on the same salary when our hours and physical exertion are incomparable.  The imbalance is not that I am overpaid; more it is that he is underpaid.

The Filipino is not in today, she has gone to Oslo with her daughter to meet up with the little girl’s father.  It’s a global set of circumstances.

Eventually The Girl comes in spluttering and grumpy, which is then not helped/assisted by our boss being curt with her.  From here various elements cut into the day as I struggle to accomplish what I want/need to do.

Early on the roving chef asks us what we would like for lunch and as usual I jump at a dish featuring his legendary garnish.  Later just a few minutes after midday he phones up to say that our food is ready.  Again today it is a glazed grilled chicken dish with vegetables on top of cous cous.  Super succulent and very tasty.

From here this helps fuel my customary Friday afternoon charge, my surge and flurry of activity.  Why am I so productive on Friday afternoons when the rest/remainder of the working world is beginning to wind down in anticipation/preparation for the weekend?  I do everything backwards.

Our afternoon improves further when the roving chef brings us up some dishes of pink cheesecake for afternoon dessert.  This is incredible stuff, such astonishingly good food.

When 5PM comes around the boss is our office with us and generally being sociable.  I take this as a hint that he fancies getting business drunk.  We all linger for a few minutes but I have to get to the Curzon Soho on Shaftesbury Avenue for the screening of ENTER THE VOID with GASPAR NOE Q&A to boot.

Once out of the restaurant I head straight down to Bond Street and across to Tottenham Court Road then storm down towards the Curzon.  In the end I get there comfortably and soon after collecting my ticket I am stepping into the cinema and snagging a decent seat.

Tonight I have a genuine sense of apprehension attached to the movie.  Already twenty minutes ahead of showtime many of the best seats have been taken but I still have managed to snag a place on my beloved fourth row as I strap myself in for a changing experience.

Eventually the room fills up, not least with a pair of gobby Americans sat behind me.  This is always an unnerving experience/feeling/sensation for me.  Americans disturb me.  Then a large group of people (Vice magazine tourists) occupy the two rows on my left to much chatter.  Those guys are too eager and enthusiastic about life to convince me.  Elsewhere I can here people digging into popcorn.  Do these people even realise what movie they are here to see?

Finally ENTER THE VOID begins and with it the most painful, intense and harsh opening credits in film history.  They are blunt and exciting as immediately it is apparent that this movie is going to be something different.

From here the movie crashes through a series of underworld Tokyo activities beginning on the balcony of an apartment facing a Japanese skyline while an aeroplane flies above.  There is a sense of introverted freedom attached to the moment as below a noisy world serves to disarm.

It doesn’t take long for drugs to get introduced as the main character sucks in some DMT and with it amazing psychedelic imagery immerses the screen, the like of which I have never seen before.  As the movie begins to resemble something of an amusement park ride I feel smart enough to allow the movie to carry me away and turn a blind eye to elements such as the low level acting.

It comes as no spoiler to state that the main character gets killed early on and from here the real rollercoaster begins as he floats above proceedings, taking stock of the situation and just how he (we) got to this point.

Initially I would compare the movie to Inland Empire crossed with Peep Show set in Tokyo with plenty of sexy time, an Eraserhead element and a 2001: A Space Odyssey-esqe pay off.  It’s a very reaching and expansive piece of work seemingly up against limitations (both physical and mental) but successfully overriding them in the process.

Shortly after the killing and aftermath two people stand up and exit the cinema.  Is this a real walk out?  It would seem so.  From here as the lead character floats above proceedings it takes me (the viewer) to place I have never been before in the movies.

For me there are three real shocking moments that I can’t help but be spoilers were I discuss them (which I am itching to do).  When the third touch comes along I find myself internally (almost externally) muttering “no he just didn’t”.  This piece is so audacious.  And shockingly it is none of these moments that cause me to look away.

Twenty minutes before the end you sense that the movie has reached a natural conclusion but NOE appears to insist on rinsing out a final section (selection) of shocking images.  He just appears to feel the need to offend.

Then it ends.

There is stunted applause as the lights come up as swiftly seats and microphones are set up in from of the screen on the stage.  From here GASPAR NOE and his interviewer (wearing hot boots) take their positions.

Immediately the question gets asked “what did you think?” to which someone responds “You’re off your tits mate”.  NOE smiles seemingly pleased to have prompted such a reaction.

GASPAR NOE unsurprisingly comes over as an awkward cunt with a sharp sense of humour taking much fun and glee in shocking people.  Mission accomplished.

From here throughout the interview NOE is hilariously blas√© and ambivalent about the piece and things in general, happy to play down all the just came before in the movie.  When challenged on the rougher aspects he just shrugs and responds “I haven’t done anything illegal” playing down all the insinuation of incest and child abuse within the piece while not dwelling too much on his apparent breast feeding obsession.

Obviously the subject of drugs gets brought being that they weigh so heavily on the movie and yet again NOE is frustratingly coy (fucking cute) about the subject when plainly he has dabbled and experienced the wares displayed in the piece.  As to whether they have had a lasting affect is open to debate, something that a lot of people would say a definitive “yes” to.

It is around this point that I notice a gorgeous Asian (Far East) lady stood to the left of the room helping run the event.  When I see her she grabs my attention as much as NOE.  Did this movie really arouse me?

Eventually the questioning gets thrown out to the audience who bring little to the table other than to offer a bit too much fawning.  The best and most odious example of this is the kid sat towards the front row who asks his question then as GASPAR cracks a funny, no shit, the kid laughs into the microphone.

Soon it becomes apparent that the event is overrunning and with this the pretty Asian to the left begins subtly flapping anxiously.

Finally it all comes to a close as while another audience waits patiently outside for the extended version of the movie (somewhere there is another reel to be placed into the movie to make it even longer) we get herded out via a fire escape.  With this I step out onto a mildly neon Soho as I almost begin to pretend that I am in a NOE version of London.  If only life were so incredible.

With this I head up to Tottenham Court Road and across to Liverpool Street feeling excited and pumped by what I have just witnessed onscreen.

Once at Liverpool Street I grab a much needed bite to eat before boarding a train and expounding the film’s greatness on Facebook and Twitter to anyone that will listen.  Not many people bite.

Roughly an hour later I get back to Colchester where there is just about a bit of Friday remaining.  It works.

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