Friday, October 9, 2009

A Vistor's Tings and Things #1: Special Guest Writer Miles Buckingham c/o Radio Active 89FM.

It is with great pleasure I welcome the first of hopefully what will be many guest commentators to Itchy Quill HQ, Mr Miles Buckingham: cinemaphile, radio host, exceptional laksa companion, and beer conniseur. Miles has graciously agreed to post his thoughts on the 41 best documentary films according to 17 of my Facebook friends.

Many years ago, when I was but an over zealous volunteer, I met Miles at Radio Active 89FM. I later became Radio Acitve's breakfast host then moved on, as did Miles, although he returned to base camp eventually.

Being lucky enough to be paid to work somewhere like Active is still my fondest memory of employment to date: so big ups to Miles for returning, and still presenting Cinemania just after 5.30pm each and every weekday. That little featurette must have been going for nearly fifteen years now.

Miles has seen a lot of films, and I remember used to keep diaries recording his thoughts on each and every film he saw. I think Radio Active branch off into publishing and turn the highlights of these into a coffee table book, with big thick pages and glossy film stills and the like...



"First of all, I have always been a firm believer in the cultural superiority of the French. They should appologise, but, merede, zey are ze French & above such things, sacre bleu!
Made in 1969 by Marcel Ophüls, the son of the great Max Ophüls, The Sorrow & the Pity or Le Chagrin et la pitié is a monumental two part documentary that shatters the myth of an omnipresent French resistance during the Nazi occupation & the rule of the Vichy government. Interviewing an ex-german officer, collaborators, resistance fighters and a very cool gay English spy type, as well as a charming French aristocrat who not only embraced fascism, but fought in a german uniform on the Eastern Front, slowly, surely the image of a brave little rooster that pecked at the nazi oppressor, crumbles. From the dust comes an air of anti-semitism, anglophobia and a fear of communists & Soviets. Some try to justify their actions, others shrug their shoulders, and life continues. The unapologetic aristocrats mansion was still looking pretty lush, while the real hard-core resistance hero remained a potato digging peasant. Although since he is french, I am sure by the time the potatos reach his table, & the onions too, they would be delicious. If you can deal with four hours of subtitled talking heads, this film is the bomb. "Allo, Allo" is, unfortunately, a work of fiction.
The Sorrow & the Pity is also the film Woody Allen takes all of his dates to in Annie Hall. This is one of Woodys best jokes, like Steve Martin, he has become less & less funny, although unlike Steve Martin, Woody is not yet at the point where he should be shot. Peter Sellers turns in his grave to Steve Martin's Pink Panther."

Monday, October 5, 2009

A list of the 41 best documentary films of all time, according to 17 Facebook friends.

Now a while ago I posted a request for my Facebook friends to give me their opinions on the best music films of all time. Somehow this broad request got narrowed down into just non-fiction suggestions, which to be honest didn't bother me in the slightest, seeing as another of my favourite genres of film is in fact the documentary.


So with that thought in mind, I had all the faith in the world in my Facebook massive (or at least relatively large) to produce the goods once again. With the earlier list of music films I didn't comment on individual films, however this time around I'll give you the skinny on a film or two, and I'll first list the titles that really left an impression on me.

Here are the results of my latest status update request:

"OK people of good taste. Following on from my 'best films about music' post a wee while back... please post your favourite DOCUMENTARY film."

The following should be more than worthy of residing vertically under a fridge magnet...

4 to 5 on the Lewisometer:

Dark Days.
Please see this film before you die. Shot by an altruistic citizen cum accidental director, I love every single moment of this film. Full of tragedy and hope, and pretty much every other emotion in between, this is an against all odds kind of an affair set in a world within a world (cue Venn diagram?)

As I'd recommend for any film truly worth watching, in lieu of seeing it at the cinema get the DVD and pore over all the extras as well. DJ Shadow had never lent his music to anything when this came out, and had absolutely no connection to the director. After one viewing he offered up the entire soundtrack for free.



Grizzly Man
Looking like he'd be more at home on the ski slopes of France, and sounding like the bastard child of Richard Simmons and a disco ball, Timothy Treadwell believes he is at one with the Grizzly bears of Alaska, and as such decides to live with them.

A porridge free tale of man and Grizzly ensues.

Touching the Void.
The ultimate 'against all odds' story, retracing the steps of two climbers who run into trouble while descending Siula Grande, Peru. Believing he is leaving his compadre for dead, Simon Yates cuts the rope connecting himself to Joe Simpson and makes it back to base camp... as does Joe many days later.

I'd recommend watching this in company, so you can treat yourself to the inevitable 'what would you have done?' conversation afterward. Amazing.

When We Were Kings.
When I was younger I believed I was extremely open minded, though in reality I was quite a naive hater when it came to a number of things, especially sport, and especially especially violent sport. Yes I was a 20 year old wet bus ticket liberal, but you try being bought up by an academic sole female parent in the era of the Springbok tour and the Homosexual Law Reform bill. You're left automatically assuming the All Blacks would have bleeding knuckles and smell of liniment and rape should you ever have the pleasure of meeting them. Thankfully moments like seeing When We Were Kings began to open my eyes.

Muhammad Ali is the G.O.A.T. and When We Were Kings is a killer...

NB: If you dig the horny horns, then also make a point of seeing Soul Power.


When the Levees Broke.
An examination of the Bush administration's response to Hurricane Katrina.

Also a Spike Lee joint.

Originally made for HBO as a four part television series, Levees is a weighty 255 minutes, with every minute essential viewing. Thus I recommend watching this alone, or at least with someone else willing to commit. Otherwise it'll only take a "Hey man have you seen Sarah lately?" or a "I'm thinking about learning to Salsa dance!" before the film has lost everybody in the room and your blacklisted from choosing the DVD again.

NB: A worst case scenario here is that rather than the film being lost on people who would have loved it as much as you had concentration not lapsed, you actually have somehow ended up in long-term cohabitation with morons. This will mean any number of Brendan Fraser films in the lounge over the coming months.

In-film quote that sums up Levies:

Kayne West (Live on NBC): "George Bush doesn't care about black people."

Word.

Alone Across Australia.
You know when your up late at night for absolutely no reason other than an unplanned lack of fatigue? But your not quite awake enough to do anything vaguely productive? So you settle on viewing infomercials, or at best a strangely scheduled 12am rerun of some kind of emergency service reality show? Do you know those times? Do you? Hmmm?

It was one such time that I stumbled across AAA on Australia's ABC. It made my week, and now it's made my best of the best list.

On the 18th of May 2001 Jon Muir and his dog Seraphine began to walk across Australia entirely on foot. 128 days and 2,500 kilometres later, Jon arrives in Burketown, becoming the first person ever to walk solo and unassisted across the continent.

Apologies for the bleeding obvious, but there's fuck all in the middle of Aussie outside of heat, and Muir faces a hell of a lot along the way. Just like Touching the Void and Man On Wire, it's a true testament to the power of the human spirit.

Stoked: The Rise and Fall of Gator.
So I initially got this out simply because I am a male child of the eighties. If you are too then chances are you know what Mark "Gator" Ragowski meant to skateboarding and to popular culture worldwide. I just meant to reminisce and kinda hoped for a decent film as well.

Now, a truly exceptional documentary to me transcends the actual topic, whereby everybody enjoys it regardless of their interest in, say, Scrabble or ponies or free Jazz. Stoked fits this criteria. Treat yourself to a tale of extreme narcissm, Eighties excess, and repugnant violent crime. Mark Gator, my friends, is a cunt.




So there is my top seven. There's absolutely no doubt in my mind that I'll probably wish I'd included this one or that one or whatever, but at the end of the day there's some damn fine viewing in just a few taps of the 'Page Up". There's also some damn fine viewing in a few taps of the "Page Down", some of which I've seen, some of which I haven't.

Like I mentioned in my earlier posting as regards the best music films of all time, I've not edited these results according to my own opinion. Take Zeitgeist for example. This film puts the fear of god into me only because I'd imagine I'm going to have to have a conversation with somebody about it one day whilst they clutch their bong and get all learned on me: that's going to be way scarier than any secret society running the planet.
So there it is. I'd like nothing more than for you to leave comments, scream for blinding omissions, tell me you saw something that made your day as a result of this list, whatever!

As a special treat I'm now going to ask my dear friend Miles, who for many years has been the cinema reporter for Radio Active, to give us his opinion. I'll post whatever he sends me back ASAP.

Thanks to everybody who took the time to give me their opinion.





Friday, October 2, 2009

Sport? Of course I play sport.


Lawn bowling season is nearly upon us again folks. Never having been much of a sportsman, in recent years lawn bowls has finally provided me with an outlet in this department. For those of you who really get amongst it, now is the time to put the dart board away and find your local bowling green.

I developed a taste for said activity whilst living in Melbourne, where more than once we convinced a local club to let us bring along turntables and a PA. Cue a few cold ones, perhaps a cheeky disco fruit or two, and bingo: hours of intensive team play (often leaving me wondering if Mitsubishi would sponsor an amateur lawn bowling team who travel with a DJ).

So with fond memories of athletic achievement, myself and a friend went looking for suitable greens for a slightly more subdued roll-up after I moved to Auckland a couple of years back.

We played for a while in Ponsonby, though unfortunately due to the attitude of a few too many grumpy old crackers we were left a bit of a bad taste in our mouths. Fortunately we soon discovered the Grey Lynn club, and some of the friendliest people I've met in Auckland to date.

Bearing this in mind I say shame on you to the attitude of other bowling clubs in Auckland, which has seen Grey Lynn cut out of a lot of inter-club activity I suspect largely due to the fact they aren't old white men, but in fact a wee taste of Samoan hospitality right in the heart of Grey Lynn.

So anyway, if your in Auckland over the coming months and a long sunny afternoon calls for a few cold ones and a lazy bowl, I say go and see the folks at Grey Lynn. They'll make you feel more than welcome, you'll get to hear a whole lot of mad remixes of traditional island songs, and you'll leave feeling a little better about the world.

By the way, the folks there haven't had the funds to maintain both their greens, so have turned the top one into a taro patch. Lewis likes this.


Wednesday, September 9, 2009

My most memorable "Fecal Incident".

Last night my mother was telling me about when she and her partner endeavoured to go to the Parnell Baths, only to be refused entry to the pools due to what a staff member described as a "fecal incident".

Apparently this was a deadly serious comment, with not a whiff of the pure comedy of said description. Imagine if Billy Connolly had fancied a swim that day. There's at least an hour of material in those two words.

Some of the most comical moments I remember are so funny due to the fact they weren't envisaged or planned or set up in any way, and I remember one such event that indeed involves a "fecal incident" and a swimming pool...

When I was around 13 or 14 our school took a trip to the local aquatic center. By the time I was ready to take the plunge, there were probably about 200 people in the main Olympic sized pool. On the other side of the pool from me was a particularly small kid for his age, from the section of our school called "The Experience Unit", which was for those with special needs.

He carefully made his way down the ladder into the shallow end, before grimacing due to the cold of the water. I'm not sure what happened in the seconds after this, and before the next bit I remember, but I can only assume he created some kind of escape route in his shorts for what was included in the next image burnt into my mind.

The next look on his face was one I can only describe as complete Nirvana:

Nirvana
1. An ideal condition of rest, harmony, stability, or joy.

As I watched his wee head peacefully bobbing around, it was soon joined on the surface of the water by a "fecal incident" Rosy or Ziggy would have been proud of.

Then it all became fascinatingly primal, and I was reminded of those nature documentaries where you see a herd of deer suddenly become aware there's a tiger watching them at the watering hole: I have never seen 200 human beings move in unison so quickly, with what appeared to be little or no direct communication.

Then there was just one small boys head and his gift, left bobbing around on top of the water in that huge, huge empty swimming pool. Once he was safe on dry land a lifeguard arrived with a giant version of one of those things you remove poached eggs from their water with, attached to a long pole.

On the way back from swimming that day my friend Kelly told me he'd later found a peanut in the pool. To this day I don't know if this was true.

Monday, August 31, 2009

Goofy is a dog, Gonzo is a pervert, and Pacman is a hockey puck...

What is often good for me when I'm about to get all philisophical about some of the goings on in the world, is when someone cuts to the chase, and manages to make my day at the same time.

I'd been thinking about typing a few paragraphs about the three quite major pieces of music news that have broken over the past 48 hours (MJ beng officially a homicide case, DJ AM overdosing and dying, and Oasis breaking up) when my good friend Spikey inadvertantly edited down what would have been 1000 words or so with the following well chosen 21:

"They were keeping MJ high so they could continue to steal from him, DJ AM was a crackhead, and fuck Oasis..."

I didn't know Spikey in the early 90's, but I'm assuming we share the same nonchant for Oasis because we both had the following on the phonograph around the time Wonderwall was released:



DID YOU KNOW?
- One of the greatest cultural icons of the 1980's would have been known to all of us as Puck Man, had a wise Namco employee not pointed out the 'P' on arcade machines would probably be altered by vandals...

Anyway. Have a play. I've filled it up with coins so it'll run all day. Just use your arrow keys see...

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Blue tongues, long necks and brown spots (rhymes with riraffe).

I've just found out that if you are putting brackets around part of a sentence, you put your fullstop OUTSIDE the bracket. ( Unless the WHOLE sentence is surrounded by said brackets.) I've developed sudden punctuation amnesia, and have no idea what I've been doing hitherto. The future does look bright though.

In other news (and adding colour to what was a seriously below average day for me today), I've found a man who's friend doesn't believe he can collect 1,000,000 different drawings of Giraffes by 2011.

I'm off to sharpen my crayons...

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Blacknificent things my friends have sent me in the past week...

Fresh from my email inbox, and forwarded to you, esteemed Itchy Quill imbiber...

First up is Bad Meaning Good, which first appeared on the BBC back in 1987 and has gone on to become a seminal document of the fledgling London Hip Hop scene. For those who've pondered, "What came first, the Ali G or the Westwood?" It was most definitely your boy, Westwood...



This is from the same YouTube user, 'Skratchworx', and let me tell you, a lot of his muffins and biscuits are right up my alley... here follows an hour long documentary made by Channel 4 in 1988 charting the club scene, from Hip Hop, through House, Acid and the wider dance scene.



And the following two, tongue firmly in cheek, and probably NSFW...

This video below contains some explicit cartoon scenes, flashing lights and is FOR OVER 18's ONLY. It's quite a slow feed so be patient and wait for it to load. You probably wont find another feed, as it keeps getting banned everywhere it's posted. Obiviously one persons hilarious is another persons obscene...



Directed by Eric Wareheim (Tim & Eric) in association with Warp Records and Warp Films. Music by Flying Lotus. Co Directed/ Animation by Devin Flynn. Co Directed/ Edited by Eric Fensler.

I was already diggin' this tune. Then I saw the bum-DJing and I now declare Lazer certified genius'...



Hey thanks Eru... Hey thanks Dan...