Genevieve

There's one thing that contributes to the beautiful recuperative feel of Christmas for me:  watching movies. Lots and lots of movies.

It comes from the days as children when we had seemingly endless (sometimes tear-inducing boring) weeks of freedom during summer holidays. The harsh reality of working life put a stop to that, as did a job that never closed (except on Christmas Day). Now THAT was a buzz-kill.

Steve and I settled in to our own tradition of Christmas-time movie watching because, well, there wasn't much else we had to do. With no children to attend to - not for lack of trying to surround ourselves with a brood - we filled our work-free days with Harry Potter and Star Wars and The Lord Of The Rings. Long series of movies.

But I have my own favourites. My own must-watch movies. The ones I rarely watch during the year but never fail to watch at Christmas time. There are three in particular and all of them make me cry. Not necessarily through sadness, but because I love them so much. A little bit of wistful mixed in remembering the years past where I would watch these movies with such free abandon, not realising the fate that would befall us when we lost our Ellanor in 2004. It took me quite some time to watch them again, knowing they made me feel so happy. Possibly difficult for anyone who hasn't gone through deep, deep grief to understand. But there you have it.

I still watch these movies. And I am most delighted to say that the LGBB adores them now too and watches them with me, giggling and tearing up at the appropriate bits. She's her mother's daughter, for she even recites lines from them.... Ahhh, 'ats my girl.

So, today. The first one:

Genevieve

Image source

Oh how I A.D.O.R.E. this movie. I think if I was asked what my favourite movie was, this would have to get the guernsey. I don't know why. Perhaps it's the sentimental factor. My grandparents and Dad were living in London when this was filmed in 1953. I have photos of my grandparents taken by the street photographers dressed like Wendy and Alan McKim on streets that are identical - obviously, because this movie was shot on location.

With Larry Adler's divine harmonica score, written for the movie I believe, what's not to love about this right from the get-go??  If you're not swaying from side to side, even just a little bit, during this happy song then please check yourself for a pulse....

Basically, what happens is this:

Wendy (the awesome and beautiful Dinah Sheridan) and Alan McKim (the lovely John Gregson, whom I formed a bit of a crush on in my teen years watching this movie!) are married. He is an old car enthusiast - the car's name is Genevieve - and she is long-suffering about his involvement with the Car Club, which hold an annual London to Brighton rally. The movie opens with Alan getting ready for the 1953 rally. 

There are all sorts of mishaps and car break-downs and matrimonial squabbles along the way and it gets worse when they eventually arrive at Brighton. Hi-lar-i-ty! (I just LOVE the proprietress at the hotel they end up in who has the unfortunate task of telling them hot water is only available "in the afternoons between half past tiew and seeks"). Now watch this clip and tell me you haven't ever laughed hysterically, because there's no point crying, at something as awful as what they encounter in their hotel room:

Alan and their friend, the wicked Ambrose Claverhouse (Doctor in the House's, Kenneth More), decide to race their vintage cars back to London - their competition runs deep, with Alan convinced that his wife and Ambrose had at one time been more than good friends before they were married, a suspicion not alleviated by cheeky Wendy who likes to tease him a little about his insecurity (because she knows it's completely unfounded).

Ambrose's new "lady friend", Rosalind (played by the classic Kay Kendall, who died only 6 years later aged 33.... can you believe she was 27 when she made Genevieve?!? Whaaat?), comes along for the rally and finds the whole thing a tad boring but she's pleasant enough about it. At the dinner dance, she gets completely sozzled for the fun of it and decides to play with the band. The scene below happens right after Ambrose finishes confessing to Wendy during their dance that he hopes to *ahem* have his end away? Is that how the British put it? with Rosalind that night. The end of the scene is cut off here, right when Wendy launches into her uncontrollable laughter at Ambrose's "misfortune" when his date passes out cold for the night. Ha!

The race home between the two men gets very heated and there appears to be no love lost. Alan ends up betting Ambrose his car, Genevieve, that his old girl can beat Ambrose's spyker back to London. The music in this movie gets me every time. It just fits so perfectly. Here are some beautiful stills from the production of Genevieve:

As an interesting aside, I discovered on a Google search one time that dear Dinah Sheridan lost a child at birth in the years prior to making this movie and it warms me to her so much more. Can you believe it, but she is still alive! She must be 91 by now. What a woman.

Would you all please go out and find yourselves a copy and watch it? It's gorgeous. Not technically anything to do with Christmas, but a simply delightful old comedy very deserving of its place in my extensive movie library.

As for my other two favourites, well.... they will have to wait for a post in the near future, dear reader. Now, tell me: What are your favourite Christmas time movies? (not necessarily Christmas-themed, but just ones you might traditionally watch at this time of year)

Excuse me while I just go and watch it again...... already.

Tangled over Tangled

The LGBB went and saw this movie yesterday with her dad and me. We all thoroughly enjoyed it.

However.... I have a niggle. Just one. Okay, maybe two. Come on, this is me you're reading here. You know it's going to involve something deep. Sorry 'bout that *sheepish grin*


The story is about Rapunzel, of course, and it's quite entertaining. Certainly watchable. Funny. And a bit scary for the kids in places. All good. But what I am not comfortable with in these movies - Toy Story 3 did it, disappointingly, as well - is this focus on death. Moreso, the use of fear of imminent death being upon the hero/es of the story as a means of high drama or thrill factor.

Why am I uncomfortable with it? I haven't looked at it too deeply, so I don't know for sure. But I can bet it is something to do with our children being taught from such a young age to fear death. To even be vengeful over the death of another. In movies as far back (and further) as Snow White, death or the threat of it has been used as a pivotal plot point. And I could go the way of the majority and say I was raised on it. It hasn't affected me. Sniff. Except, has it?

I don't want my child desensitised to violence, aggression towards others, personal safety, death and destruction. There are few movies of this modern age for children that allow this. Tinkerbell and the Great Fairy Rescue was one that had bare little drama by way of villain at all (unless you count the cat, but it was minor compared to the likes of all three in the Toy Story trilogy) and I take my hat off to the makers for producing something I am happy for my child to have in her movie library.

Look, I'm not saying I want to cocoon children from these things. The LGBB watches many of these hero-villain-subtle violence movies - Lion King and Cloudy With A Chance Of Meatballs to name just two of her all-time faves - and I know it is all part of her integrating into society as it stands today.

But when it comes to death scenes like the one that is in Tangled - SPOILER ALERT! ha ha - then I think we're going a bit too far. Basically, the hero/friend of Rapunzel dies and is brought back to life by her tears falling on his cheek. On the surface, a lovely, magical happy ending that exudes all the hope and imagination of young kids.

On the other hand, they've mixed a fundamental truth with fantasy and I'm not comfortable with these movies pushing these boundaries more and more. Death is real. It is a concept that so many children have to encounter, too early in their lives. If I want my child exposed to death, then I'll do the teaching, thanks. The reality is, my daughter is already too familiar with what it means to die. Through her sister, she has realised her own mortality. In a real sense. It's really bloody scary as a concept and doesn't need to be added to by this fear of death factor in otherwise fun, entertaining childhood romps through fantasy land (all of which I'm very happy for her to have, as an escape for a while). Start mixing it with fantasy, or playing it down, and that's when the danger begins, in my opinion. Besides, this scene didn't teach anything constructive about death, it incorrectly conditioned: If someone you love dies, your tears will bring them back if you're magical enough, basically.

I sat in that cinema feeling really unnerved by what the little minds around me were absorbing. I know it's simplistic and children have a way of working these things through in their minds. But I had to wonder... How do they know - and how responsible do they care to be, as movie makers - how a child will react or what scenarios those children are going through? Do they consult with child psychologists around the world to ensure they are constructing something within that responsibility? What if a child just lost an aunty to breast cancer, for instance? Is he/she learning that their tears could have brought her back? Or that their tears were obviously not enough because she didn't come back to life? What line of questioning have their parents now been subjected to?

Some would say it is up to the parent/s to decide. But is it? I had no idea that scene/premise was in this movie. The LGBB has seen it now and fallen in love with the "girl with the long, long, long hair". She'll see it again. On the scale of movies of this type, it's a very good one, all said and done.

But why this focus on death? In Toy Story 3, the toys joined hands and faced their impending doom as they were being engulfed by the fire. NOT something I want my child to have to confront at the age of four, thank you! And so I have not allowed Lolly to see that one again. It's too much. I don't want her desensitised to that - accepting her fate when it is evident. I don't care what last-minute life-saver appears. Ludicrous storyline, if you ask me!

What are your views? Are the animated movies coming out of Hollywood starting to go too far? What other concepts are you uncomfortable with? Or are your views the complete flip-side? Do share in the comments, I'd love to learn from you.

What the Fendi?

So much potential. So much anticipation! So much promise in a poster.....

SATC2. And I didn't get it. Wait......... nope, I don't have a penis, I just checked. So it's definitely not a gender thing. I am going to touch briefly on plot points in this post and I'd give you a spoiler alert but, really, there ain't no more spoilin' to be had. This one has definitely gone off the boil all on its own :(

I fear I may be kicked out of the sisterhood for saying this - way more danger than when I admitted this - but....... I went and saw the new SAT2 movie at the cinema last night (all two hours, 45 minutes of it) and it was awful! Awful, awful, awful.

The first movie took me a couple of watches (I made myself watch it again, just to be sure I wasn't disappointed and, as it turns out, I can watch that quite happily now). But I daresay I will not be watching SATC2 again.

I'm not so difficult to please, movie-wise. I sat through Intolerable Cruelty (and it was) and Twilight. Heck, I didn't even walk out during Iris. But this was just too bad to enjoy, no matter how very, very much I wanted to.

I went with a similarly unimpressed friend - we were BOTH very keen to sit back and immerse ourselves in our onscreen "friends'" latest. Two minutes in, already I could tell it would have to really work hard to convince me. And I'm afraid, it just didn't.

The acting seemed wrong, the characters were therefore different. They truly felt like they'd only just come back together, having read their scripts in different corners of the country, and turned up on set to film. I'm talking about the guys who play the husbands and partners as well. The only partner who was convincing this time was Smith (mostly because, probably, he was "on location" and only appeared in one scene on the phone to Samantha after their estrangement so stuntedness would have been expected). Oh, wait, I do apologise - Chris Noth was great. But he had plenty of scenes to prove his greatness in. Poor old Harry and Steve only got a split second look-in and it was a real car wreck to watch.

And do not even START me on Liza Minelli's cameo. Dear heavens above.

The plot was implausible - I can see how they may have thought it was, but they just threw in too much. Tooo, too much! I mean..... bringing back Aidan was a very good plan. Great move! Certainly had me a-twitter with anticipation to see what was going to happen. But the circumstances in which she came across him? Come ON! Noooooo! By this stage, I was already peeking out from behind my splayed fingers. By the time they blatantly tried to score some cinema-going "WOOT!"s from the mothers in the audience, using the Charlotte-Miranda "we're hard-working mothers" vehicle, I was almost in the foetal position. I wanted to align with them SO much, I truly did! But it was so bloody contrived! And Miranda is usually my favourite. By far.

Carrie was a brat. And she twirled in wonder at her surroundings FAR too much (even more than usual) for my liking. Samantha was tired and far too "done". Charlotte.... she did have a great scene or two, particularly when she was in the pantry crying (could have really put her on my shoulder and her given a comforting, sympathising back-pat there) and also in the closing panning scene in Carrie's apartment - this was my only real fave heart-soar moment in the entire looooong endurance. Miranda was .... nnngh. Again, I wanted to like her like I've always done. But the writing was not good enough. In saying that, she was the only one worth staying for if you ask me. I wanted to smack Carrie in the kisser and tell her to grow up, frankly. Sorry, SJP, but really. Really?

I'm sorry! I feel the need to pause here and apologise. To all the people who so enthused about the movie that I felt excited to go. To all the women who enjoyed it so much and are confused by my passionate dislike of it. Ok....

That out of the way, let me just say, they did get a couple of things right. Namely, the quick flashback moments:

But, overall, there were so many bads that the few goods were too outweighed to save it. Such as, the karaoke scene (below). I'm sooooo disappointed!!


This was NOT the thinking woman's fluff movie. I am a loyal fan of the series, I eventually enjoyed the first movie. But I think they ought to have stopped at one. This second one felt over-indulgent and more "let's make more" than "let's give the fans what they want". There was nothing clever in this.

Sorry sisters!

I can only afford this one over-easy, overdone egg....



Have YOU seen Sex And The City 2? What did you think of it? If you loved it, tell me why! If you didn't, quick... let's slink sheepishly away together and discuss our defection.

Date Night

On Monday night, I went out to the movies with a girlfriend. Our Date Night, a little less regular these days than we would like, but something we relish. The time out of the house, the night off from the unpaid portion of our working lives, the good catch-up conversation beforehand. And we saw - aww, sorry for using the same word for a fourth time in one paragraph - the movie "Date Night."

Despite quite liking Tina Fey and Steve Carell, I did not have high hopes for this movie. The few reviews I have read have been, quite simply, that the movie was, in a word, ".....meh." Well, I just might be very easy to please in the movies stakes, because while it was no Avatar on the scale of blockbusters to end all blockbusters, this little movie was very alright by little old me.

My friend and I cackled our way through the movie, probably to the disdain of the only other members of the cinema audience - several sets of early 20-somethings who most likely could not understand just why the opening scene was so hilarious, it was just an ordinary, everyday, mundane, unfunny "whack to the head by a 3 year-old" depiction of married life, wasn't it? Then the heart to heart the couple have in the car, where Claire (Tina Fey) gives her husband the low-down - and he gives it right back - was another scene that caused us to wheeze laughter over the familiar (very not funny when it's inside your four walls) made funny. And the outtakes at the end were so cute. Hilarious. Make sure you stay for those during the credits, if you go see it.

Quite simply, I enjoyed this bit o' over-the-top-action Rom-Com. And I rate it 3 over-easy eggs, sunny-side up, but of course.





But the funniest joke of the night was on moi. I decided to bring home the popcorn I didn't eat so that I could give some to the LGBB the next day. My friend and I wandered back to our cars after the movie finished, sauntering, discussing this and that, taking our time. And that's when I saw it, while we were standing in the highrise car park entrance and saying goodnight... The trail of popcorn I had left. I cringed and then dissolved into uncontrollable giggles, my friend joining me. What had been a quarter of a box-full was now reduced to at least half that again, dropping out of the poorly put-together bottom. A little trail of white popped corn went from my shoes, through the carpark, across the darkened road and as far as my eye could see towards the cinemas. We had walked past packed restaurants and a pub full of raucous young people.... and I had been doing my best Gretel impersonation.

Back at my car (well, Steve's actually, for I had taken his), I laughed even harder when I tried valiantly to retain as much of the left-over popcorn as I could - a mother's efforts know no bounds, it would seem - and could not stop the inertia of my body from flopping into the driver's seat straight after I had emptied most of the remainder of the contents onto it. By accident, of course. In Steve's new car. A virgin to crumbs, spills and popcorn. Whoops.

Back home, giggling once again as I tried to fix the box but only succeeding in tipping out more popped corn onto the passenger seat (d'oh), I carried the box gingerly inside the house. In the morning, I'll tell him about the state of his car, I thought. And next morning, Steve laughed uncontrollably along with me, despite the corn crumbs I'd smooshed with my derriere into his new upholstery, when he stepped onto the front porch and saw the little trail of popcorn.

At least I would be able to find my way home if I got lost. Right?