It was with an equal measure of delight and surprise that I read
of 'Amour's' nomination for the prestigious
'best picture' Oscar. Delighted because
'Amour' is the best film I've seen in an age, since.... well, the same
director's 'Cache' in 2002. And it might even be better than that. Surprised because it is a rare thing for a
foreign language movie to be nominated for Hollywood's main prize - a cynic could argue
that the Academy created the token 'best foreign film' award in 1947 so it didn't
need to worry about Johnny Foreigner gate-crashing the big party. It's rarer still for such a serious film, one
that deals with old age and death, to be acknowledged.
'Amour' is only the 9th foreign film ever to be nominated in
the award's 90 year history and is a film like none of the recent, unsuccessful, nominees:
Life Is Beautiful (1997) - serious topic, but schmaltzy. Very Hollywood. Jim Carrey would probably star in the remake.
Il Postino (1994) - see above. Added pathos of star's posthumous
death. Very very Hollywood.
Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000) - the highest grossing foreign film ever in America. Less an arthouse movie than
a computer game with fortune cookie philosophy. Balletic, slow-mo violence was
hugely in vogue at the time - see The Matrix.
So, realistically, what are 'Amour's' chances?
It ticks a number of boxes:
Critically acclaimed director who's previously paid his dues
and now 'come in from the cold'? Tick.
'Worthy' but universal topic? Tick
Accessible to English speaking masses? Tick
Brilliant lead performances? Tick
Add to that the paucity of other great films amongst the
nominees.
Of course Speilberg's 'Lincoln'
is the overwhelming favourite.
Academy award winning director? Tick
Academy award winning actor? Tick
Biopic of American Icon? Tick
It's almost like an
identikit 'best picture' on paper - but is it too obvious?
There is something beautifully ironic about 'Amour's' director, Michael Haneke, receiving this award and a best director nomination.
I'm struggling to think of a more esoteric, intellectual, more European, figure in cinema history - the very antithesis of a Hollywood
hack. It's like Solzenitzyn being the
frontrunner for the Richard and Judy book club award. Or
Scott Walker beating Olly Murs to
best male solo artist at this year's Brits.
It's even more ironic when you consider that Haneke's 'Funny
Games' was an explicit attack on Hollywood's
fascination with ultra violence and exploitation. A joke well made, but one that missed its
target, precisely because most Americans wouldn't ever watch a 'foreign' film.
Aware of this Haneke re-told the joke,
almost shot for shot, in English with an American cast and setting. And judging by the youtube 'comments' a lot of people still don't get the joke.
'Amour' is a different beast altogether, compared to Haneke's other
self-consciously arty movies. It has a
serene simplicity, an Ozu like quality. It's
tremendously moving but never tugs at the heartstrings in an obvious way. In truth it's surely far too subtle to win
the big prize against such a flag-waving patriotic heavyweight as Speilberg's 'Lincoln'.
But then who'd have thought a silent movie would be last
year's winner?
Maybe, just maybe, Hollywood
is finally growing up.
Christmas is the most wonderful time of the year, as the late Andy Williams frequently sang. This is particularly the case if you happen to be a Gregarious Monk as it's that singular occasion where you can indulge both your social/secular and religious selves. For me, this Christmas has been a splendid one, partly as a result of Mrs Monk buying me a vintage record player (Fidelity HF 45 for those who are interested in such things). And as James Marshall Hendrix once said, music is my true religion.
Now I must confess, my motivation in asking for such a thing was largely aesthetic - part of my continuing aspiration to live a vintage lifestyle - but owning a record player for the first time in 20 years has been an absolute revelation.
I've waxed lyrical elsewhere (Nov 2011) about my early record shopping days, but at the risk of repetition, they were magical times. Clutching one of the Left Legged Pineapple's gaudy bags at lunchtime was as much a symbol of my 15 year old identity as the mullet and David Coverdale t-shirt (worn during P.E, often prompting the question 'Why have you got Princess Diana on your t-shirt?)
The Left Legged, as it was affectionately known, was also inadvertently the scene of my first drug experience - passively inhaling shop assistant reefers while browsing the metal section - you don't get that at HMV. It certainly made double History pass a little more easily, I can tell you. We'll also leave aside the fact that I later spent 10 years working for an arch-rival that undoubtedly contributed to the LLP's downfall.
Fast forward to the present day, I'm ready to begin record buying again. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm under no illusion that re-purchasing White Lion and Vinnie Vincent Invasion LPs is somehow going to magically transport me back to my youth. Nor do I have any interest in purchasing new LPs, as is the current cool kid fad. My interest in new music ended largely when I stopped working in record shops (sometime even before then, if I'm being honest). Besides, have you seen the price of new release vinyl?! No, this is to be an exercise in nostalgia. But not nostalgia for my youth rather nostalgia for a golden age of music - music I so far only experienced through cd.
Equally I was under no illusions about the audio quality of my 40+ year old machine (although it is surpisingly good). This is not going to be a blog for vinyl purist/techy audiophile types - this machine was built for playing old music and so it shall be. So far I've purchased over 50 lps (it was an early Christmas present); mostly easy listening, jazz, and country, mostly from the 1950s and 60s. My only concession to pop-modernity is a few Hall & Oates records and Todd Rundgren's Back to the Bars from 1978. My be-mulleted 80s self would be aghast.
H2O v2
My starting point, and end point in all probability, was Sinatra. This should come as no surprise to anyone that knows me. I've written elsewhere about my love of FAS, or rather his music.
'Getting' Sinatra was like having my world-view altered; like suddenly realising the world was round (alright, spherical), that Santa Claus was just my dad dressed up and that Bon Jovi were actually never very good. I found it hard to listen to anything else after this Damascene conversion - everything else sounded insubstantial and insignificant in comparison. So, for about a year, around 2000, I literally listened to nothing else. When I say 'I' listened to nothing else I also mean the shop I managed at the time, Andy's Records, Lougborough. Colleagues and customers of a certain vintage will vouch for this. The staff largely tolerated this obsession although they took great pleasure in deliberately putting the discs in the Capitol Years box set, that sat proudly behind our counter, out of chronological sequence.
The greatest body of work in popular music?
This might sound a small matter but the spines of said discs, when put together in the correct sequence, formed a mosaic of Sinatra in his fedora-ed prime. As a result of their meddling most mornings Frank bore more of a resemblance to Niki Lauda, post-accident. I should probably also apologise to the poor sod who eventually bought this box set thinking they were getting a 'new' one, as I must have played each disc a dozen times.
It is my tremendous good fortune that Mrs Monk lives 5 minutes away from two amazing record shops: 'Music and Video Exchange' and 'The Diskery'.
Aah.. The Diskery, just the thought of this place fills me joy. If you've seen the recent Last Shop Standing documentary, or read the book, you will have come across The Diskery. I won't say too much about this King among record shops right now but it's the kind of shop that offers you cups of tea while you browse and makes you your own bespoke cds. Oh, and they have a Sinatra room. That's right, not a Sinatra section, a Sinatra ROOM.
'The Sinatra Room' at the Diskery. Needs a woman's touch according to Mrs Monk.
I exaggerate slightly as there are a few other artists featured in this private area, but the bottom two shelves are frankly Frank. So, I've filled my boots as you can imagine.
Spoils from my first visit to The Diskery
Perhaps the most enjoyable purchase from these visits has been this baby, a 6LP boxed set covering Sinatra's early years with Tommy Dorsey's big band (1940-42).
These recordings weren't new to me, but I must confess to having previously dismissed them as you might a great writer's juvenilia. How wrong I was. There's something gloriously romantic about this music. Sinatra famously claimed to have learnt his legato, or long breath, technique from studying Dorsey's trombone - but the technique is only useful in as much as it allows him to get inside a lyric and impart it with real feeling, and even at this tender age his phrasing is immaculate. Arguably Sinatra never sounded better than when backed by this most melodic of the big bands. It brings to mind Philip Larkin's words (writing about Sidney Bechet), "on me your voice falls as they say love should, like an enormous YES." Yes indeed.
I couldn't let myself get too carried away with the LP buying as the record player was supposed to be a Christmas present, so to maintain the pretence I thought it best to hold back a few LPs for Christmas day. Now, I don't do Christmas albums per se, even Phil Spector's, but there is one Frank curio that came to mind.
'A Man Alone' is not one of Frank's best, but it has a certain charm. It was, I think, the only time FAS recorded an entire album by one songwriter, pop poet Rod McKuen. An odd choice but this was 1969 and the 60s were a difficult time for Frank, musically speaking. His voice had deteriorated markedly and he struggled to incorporate newer, baser forms of 'pop' songwriting to his singing style. This was one such example, and for some reason, known only to Frank himself, he decided to narrate a number of the songs in a spoken word style, rather than sing them.
This, and perhaps also Richard Harris' A Tramp Shining from the previous year, unwittingly inspired a vocal stylist and pop career even more unlikely than that of Mr Harris himself....
Perhaps it's Don Costa's 'wintry' orchestral arrangements, perhaps its the memory of playing it one Christmas at Andy's Records that make me associate this record with the festive period. This memory has stayed with me because it was one of those rare record shop moments where the background music seemed to be in complete accordance with mood of the shoppers. For a few seconds they palpably froze in their browsing and peered towards the 'now playing' sign before stampeding simultaneously towards our counter. Unfortunately the only copy we had was the one playing and I therefore hold myself responsible for the ensuing fight that broke out. Between two pensioners. But the LP I was really looking forward to spinning, and the one I would recommend above all others to the Frank neophyte as a first purchase, was Sinatra At The Sands with Count Basie. As consummate a studio musician as Frank was, he was never more comfortable than in a concert environment - loose, and often juiced. And never more so than here, at the court of his Rat Pack Kingdom, backed by the hardest swinging of the big bands.
This was to be the soundtrack to my Christmas dinner. And as most of the nation was tucking into its turkey accompanied by the Queen's speech it seemed somehow fitting that the King's speech should accompany mine.
