In the Guardian and on the news the run of stories about hardship at Christmas is just beginning. Housing benefit cuts and mortgage defaults are putting people on the streets, and the Government's austerity policies are to blame.
This may be true, but the Government's opponents talk of austerity as if it were a choice. The suggestion is that there might be a painless alternative which Ed Balls is just waiting to implement, and as if there will come a point at which it is over. George Osborne's latest prognosis talks in terms of cuts lasting until 2018 or thereabouts, and after that date, we're told, everything will return to normal. If only incompetent Chancellor Osborne didn't keep putting it off!
I think that view is delusional. Austerity is not optional but inevitable. The idea that when your economy is at rock bottom and you are borrowing millions of pounds a day just to stay afloat it might be rational to carry on public spending as before is beyond ridicule. Austerity is with us for the forseeable future, and if, as I expect, Labour returns to power in 2015 we will merely have Labour's version instead.
What will it look like? You would hope they would have learned that there is only a certain mileage to be gained from taxing the wealthy. A week or so ago the Torygraph reported that the numbers of people declaring an annual income of more than £1 million fell from 16,000 to 6,000 after the introduction of the 50p tax rate; the Treasury reckon they lost £7 billion. But I wouldn't bet my mortgage on it. By 2015 the clamour from Labour's natural constituencies for a bout of rich-bashing will be more intense than it is now. It won't plug the hole in the UK's budget, and, like the 50p tax rate, it might cost the Treasury more than it gains; but it'll happen all the same. Parties pander to their supporters.
All of which brings me back to a point I've been making for three or four years, one which is worth dragging out into the light every now and again. It is that the credit crunch is not a crisis of Capitalism. Rather it is a crisis for Social Democrats. Why? Boom and bust is just what capitalism does - capital is misallocated; there is mispricing of risk; it all goes pear-shaped. This was a particularly big one, exacerbated by globalisation. In the decades ahead it will eventually work through the system, as the Far East gets richer and the West gets poorer. In the end the cycle will start again, with any luck featuring better safeguards in future (it probably won't, but one can hope).
Social Democracy, on the other hand, is dead in the water. It is predicated on an extensive system of support for people who have been unfortunate or who have made bad choices. For western countries expecting high standards of living it was unaffordable in the good times; we know Britain couldn't afford it, because overall we ran a deficit during the longest period of economic growth in British history, from Black Wednesday in 1993 to summer 2008. It will be doubly so in the bad times which now stretch away into the future. Way beyond 2018.
Personally I don't think Labour is anywhere near working out what might be a plausible substitute; not that that will spoil their chances in 2015. Most of their natural support haven't even grasped the nature of the problem - it still astonishes me how many people still think it was all the fault of the banks (or Gordon Brown for that matter), without asking themselves what it was the banks were doing. Answer - working out more and more ingenious ways of making it look OK to lend to people and governments that couldn't afford to pay it back. Trying to prop up Western living standards that couldn't be supported without that lending.
No, if I were a Social Democrat I'd be chewing my fingernails. If I were on the Hard Left, on the other hand, I'd be feeling rather chipper.
Thursday 6 December 2012
Wednesday 5 December 2012
George Osborne - bash carefully
The Chancellor has been getting some stick recently, and no doubt after today's Autumn statement (delivered on December 5th? - not very Autumnal, George) he'll be in for some more.
I was watching the Ten O'clock News and Newsnight last night. Criticism seems to be two-fold. One, Osborne hasn't got the economy to grow. Two, he's borrowed too much. But considered together these criticisms collapse into a heap.
By universal consent, the economy has failed to grow because of weak demand. How could Osborne boost demand? Only by borrowing more.
You think he's borrowed too much already? Fine. Cut spending. But that would only lead to demand being still weaker.
His critics can't have it both ways. Either he's borrowed too much, or he's at fault for low growth. But not both.
Labour has been at the forefront of having its critical cake and eating it, which is a bit rich because we have ended up with borrowing levels pretty close to what they planned before the 2010 election.
Of course, it's possible that Osborne is to blame for neither. Trying to revitalise the economy when you are up to your eyes in debt, with the eurozone in crisis, America emerging from recession and growth faltering in the Far East is about as near a futile exercise as I can imagine. The truly depressing thing about recent economic news is that it is very difficult to think of anything else the Chancellor could do.
Which strikes me as the biggest and most telling charge to make against Osborne. He is two and a half years into the job, and is probably more fairly described as dogged rather than imaginative. Yes, it's hard, but he is paid to think creatively about the economy, which the rest of us aren't.
I was watching the Ten O'clock News and Newsnight last night. Criticism seems to be two-fold. One, Osborne hasn't got the economy to grow. Two, he's borrowed too much. But considered together these criticisms collapse into a heap.
By universal consent, the economy has failed to grow because of weak demand. How could Osborne boost demand? Only by borrowing more.
You think he's borrowed too much already? Fine. Cut spending. But that would only lead to demand being still weaker.
His critics can't have it both ways. Either he's borrowed too much, or he's at fault for low growth. But not both.
Labour has been at the forefront of having its critical cake and eating it, which is a bit rich because we have ended up with borrowing levels pretty close to what they planned before the 2010 election.
Of course, it's possible that Osborne is to blame for neither. Trying to revitalise the economy when you are up to your eyes in debt, with the eurozone in crisis, America emerging from recession and growth faltering in the Far East is about as near a futile exercise as I can imagine. The truly depressing thing about recent economic news is that it is very difficult to think of anything else the Chancellor could do.
Which strikes me as the biggest and most telling charge to make against Osborne. He is two and a half years into the job, and is probably more fairly described as dogged rather than imaginative. Yes, it's hard, but he is paid to think creatively about the economy, which the rest of us aren't.
My annual Rachmaninov 2
Early next year the Halifax Symphony Orchestra will be playing Rachmaninov's 2nd Symphony. We had the first rehearsal last night. When I was young I had Andre Previn's magisterial version of the piece, recorded with the LSO in the 70s, and in the years before I went to music college and became cynical, its passion and lyricism were often a mental soundtrack to my life.
To describe Rach 2 as sumptuous would be to short-change it. The symphony is nearly an hour's worth of musical velvet. I have conducted it before, an experience I remember chiefly for the long stretches of rehearsal spent cajoling the second violins to play fig. 33 correctly in the second movement; I remember too having to signal to one of the double basses who had turned up late for the concert how many beats I was going to give before the start of the last movement; that and the relief, as the music crested the last hill and began to wind itself up for the exuberant final bars, that we had got through it without disaster; Rach 2 is technically hard for the players, thickly scored and ambitious.
I also remember thinking - and this struck me last night too - "I no longer believe what Rachmaninov is telling me". It might be worth considering what exactly that is. Rachmaninov speaks of present unhappiness and of longing for something that is just out of reach, a longing expressed with almost fetishistic care and obsessive length. Only at the very end do we feel that we might have actually attained it, and it is that feeling of consummation and achievement which makes the final couple of pages so exhilarating.
How useful is that for living? In my experience not much. It may be difficult to get something you really want, and miserable when you haven't got it; but few things are as good (or bad) as they first appear, and an even bigger task is how to be happy once you have got something long desired. Rachmaninov isn't alone in focusing short-sightedly on this near term goal at the expense of what lies beyond it: many other Romantic composers strove to express loss, want and attainment. Why not? They are powerful feelings.
But for me this just makes the more emotionally mature achievements of other composers all the greater - I'm thinking particularly of Brahms, Nielsen and Sibelius. There is a quality of stoicism and resignation in Brahms' music which seems to recognise that the Romantic outlook is only a small part of human experience; as for Nielsen his two masterworks, the Fourth and Fifth Symphonies, are explicit attempts to wrestle with how to live as an adult. They are not the most radical pieces of twentieth century music, but they see the world with a clarity and acuity far removed from Rachmaninov's sentimental vision. After writing the Violin Concerto, Sibelius went beyond the subjective play of human emotions into a rarefied musical sphere which reflects the relationship between man and the physical world.
Everyone should listen to Rach 2 once every year or so. It is a great piece of music, challenging and emotional, vividly orchestrated and full of memorable tunes. But it is not the whole story.
To describe Rach 2 as sumptuous would be to short-change it. The symphony is nearly an hour's worth of musical velvet. I have conducted it before, an experience I remember chiefly for the long stretches of rehearsal spent cajoling the second violins to play fig. 33 correctly in the second movement; I remember too having to signal to one of the double basses who had turned up late for the concert how many beats I was going to give before the start of the last movement; that and the relief, as the music crested the last hill and began to wind itself up for the exuberant final bars, that we had got through it without disaster; Rach 2 is technically hard for the players, thickly scored and ambitious.
I also remember thinking - and this struck me last night too - "I no longer believe what Rachmaninov is telling me". It might be worth considering what exactly that is. Rachmaninov speaks of present unhappiness and of longing for something that is just out of reach, a longing expressed with almost fetishistic care and obsessive length. Only at the very end do we feel that we might have actually attained it, and it is that feeling of consummation and achievement which makes the final couple of pages so exhilarating.
How useful is that for living? In my experience not much. It may be difficult to get something you really want, and miserable when you haven't got it; but few things are as good (or bad) as they first appear, and an even bigger task is how to be happy once you have got something long desired. Rachmaninov isn't alone in focusing short-sightedly on this near term goal at the expense of what lies beyond it: many other Romantic composers strove to express loss, want and attainment. Why not? They are powerful feelings.
But for me this just makes the more emotionally mature achievements of other composers all the greater - I'm thinking particularly of Brahms, Nielsen and Sibelius. There is a quality of stoicism and resignation in Brahms' music which seems to recognise that the Romantic outlook is only a small part of human experience; as for Nielsen his two masterworks, the Fourth and Fifth Symphonies, are explicit attempts to wrestle with how to live as an adult. They are not the most radical pieces of twentieth century music, but they see the world with a clarity and acuity far removed from Rachmaninov's sentimental vision. After writing the Violin Concerto, Sibelius went beyond the subjective play of human emotions into a rarefied musical sphere which reflects the relationship between man and the physical world.
Everyone should listen to Rach 2 once every year or so. It is a great piece of music, challenging and emotional, vividly orchestrated and full of memorable tunes. But it is not the whole story.
Tuesday 4 December 2012
Boycotting Amazon
Last June I posted about the thorny issue of tax dodging (Jimmy Carr and Amazon), pointing out that "Amazon do millions, if not billions, of business in the UK. But they don't pay any tax here. Amazon have the right to arrange their tax affairs in any legal way they like. But we don't have to buy books from them. I find www.abebooks.co.uk a perfectly good substitute."
I might have added Starbucks and Google to Amazon; and now it appears that Starbucks are going to re-arrange their affairs to increase their tax exposure. Hooray. These people need our goodwill and custom.
Incidentally, if Starbucks were really making no profits from their UK business, why do they have one? Why don't they just close it down? That Starbucks think it worth operating here gives the lie to the pretence that they aren't making any money.
That still leaves Amazon (and no doubt plenty of others). Every pound we don't spend there increases the pressure on them. Come on citizens! Keep your wallets in your pockets!
I might have added Starbucks and Google to Amazon; and now it appears that Starbucks are going to re-arrange their affairs to increase their tax exposure. Hooray. These people need our goodwill and custom.
Incidentally, if Starbucks were really making no profits from their UK business, why do they have one? Why don't they just close it down? That Starbucks think it worth operating here gives the lie to the pretence that they aren't making any money.
That still leaves Amazon (and no doubt plenty of others). Every pound we don't spend there increases the pressure on them. Come on citizens! Keep your wallets in your pockets!
Thursday 29 November 2012
Ignoring the Leveson Report
Like you, I haven't read Brian Leveson's report; I doubt whether even Leveson himself has read all of it. But like you, that doesn't stop me having opinions about it, and here they are.
Leveson seems to have opted for some kind of independent Regulator, like the PCC but set up on a statutory basis to prevent the government fiddling with it.
Sounds very worthy, but here are three things that are wrong with it.
First, given that any regulator is inevitably going to proceed on the basis of rules, why are newspapers more likely to obey a Leveson-type regulator than they were the Press Complaints Commission? To put it another way, the press not only broke the PCC rules but the criminal law also. Anyone who thinks a Leveson-compliant regulator would have more of an impact on journalists than the prospect of a prison sentence is crazy.
Secondly, what if some newspaper refuses to co-operate, as the Spectator has threatened? Richard Desmond, it will be remembered, refused to allow his publications to be scrutinised by the PCC. And here's where Leveson gets nasty. He seems to be suggesting that refuseniks will be dealt with by Ofcom, a state sponsored body, instead, and face harsher costs penalties in litigation than publications that comply. But who is head of Ofcom? Why, it's none other than Ed Richards, a former apparatchik of Gordon Brown. In other words, co-operate with Leveson's Regulator or a state-sponsored body with a political appointee at its head will get you. When Leveson says there is a world of difference between his scheme and state regulation he is being disingenuous. Leveson is proposing to use state regulation to compel compliance with his scheme.
Thirdly, the remit of Leveson's Regulator won't apply to the internet. His vast four-volume report apparently devotes only one page to it in a total exceeding 2000. We could soon find ourselves in the bizarre situation that a print copy of an offending newspaper story might fall foul of the rules but an online one might not. It's hard to think of a better way of sinking print media altogether, making it irrelevant in comparison to the net's unrestricted Wild West.
On the whole we get the press we deserve. I bet even the people who have suffered most egregiously from the attentions of Fleet Street - in this case perhaps the Dowler parents and the McCanns - will have read the News of the Screws or the Sunday People in their time. I know I have. Yes, the press is unscrupulous and all the rest, but they are in business because we keep buying their papers. And sometimes they come up with some gold. The phone-hacking story, remember, was broken by a newspaper.
I don't feel terribly sorry for the celebrities like Steve Coogan and Hugh Grant who have added their bleating to Hacked Off's campaign. All of them have at some time or other used the press to further their careers - Coogan has made films for Rupert Murdoch's companies, for God's sake. All of them are free at any time to go and seek a life of suburban obscurity. It's surprisingly easy. People like the Dowlers and McCanns are blameless of course; but hard cases make bad law. Those who hacked their phones are in prison, and some of the people who put them up to it will probably be joining them pretty soon.
Surprisingly, I think David Cameron is right to resist Leveson's self-righteous allure.
Leveson seems to have opted for some kind of independent Regulator, like the PCC but set up on a statutory basis to prevent the government fiddling with it.
Sounds very worthy, but here are three things that are wrong with it.
First, given that any regulator is inevitably going to proceed on the basis of rules, why are newspapers more likely to obey a Leveson-type regulator than they were the Press Complaints Commission? To put it another way, the press not only broke the PCC rules but the criminal law also. Anyone who thinks a Leveson-compliant regulator would have more of an impact on journalists than the prospect of a prison sentence is crazy.
Secondly, what if some newspaper refuses to co-operate, as the Spectator has threatened? Richard Desmond, it will be remembered, refused to allow his publications to be scrutinised by the PCC. And here's where Leveson gets nasty. He seems to be suggesting that refuseniks will be dealt with by Ofcom, a state sponsored body, instead, and face harsher costs penalties in litigation than publications that comply. But who is head of Ofcom? Why, it's none other than Ed Richards, a former apparatchik of Gordon Brown. In other words, co-operate with Leveson's Regulator or a state-sponsored body with a political appointee at its head will get you. When Leveson says there is a world of difference between his scheme and state regulation he is being disingenuous. Leveson is proposing to use state regulation to compel compliance with his scheme.
Thirdly, the remit of Leveson's Regulator won't apply to the internet. His vast four-volume report apparently devotes only one page to it in a total exceeding 2000. We could soon find ourselves in the bizarre situation that a print copy of an offending newspaper story might fall foul of the rules but an online one might not. It's hard to think of a better way of sinking print media altogether, making it irrelevant in comparison to the net's unrestricted Wild West.
On the whole we get the press we deserve. I bet even the people who have suffered most egregiously from the attentions of Fleet Street - in this case perhaps the Dowler parents and the McCanns - will have read the News of the Screws or the Sunday People in their time. I know I have. Yes, the press is unscrupulous and all the rest, but they are in business because we keep buying their papers. And sometimes they come up with some gold. The phone-hacking story, remember, was broken by a newspaper.
I don't feel terribly sorry for the celebrities like Steve Coogan and Hugh Grant who have added their bleating to Hacked Off's campaign. All of them have at some time or other used the press to further their careers - Coogan has made films for Rupert Murdoch's companies, for God's sake. All of them are free at any time to go and seek a life of suburban obscurity. It's surprisingly easy. People like the Dowlers and McCanns are blameless of course; but hard cases make bad law. Those who hacked their phones are in prison, and some of the people who put them up to it will probably be joining them pretty soon.
Surprisingly, I think David Cameron is right to resist Leveson's self-righteous allure.
Monday 26 November 2012
Re-reading Britten's Children
I've been meaning for months to write about John Bridcut's book Britten's Children, quite one of the silliest and most misleading studies of a public figure I can remember. Prompted by a letter by the author in today's Guardian, I now discover that there's been a bit of a furore in the last few days, in so far as anything in the classical music world qualifies for the description, prompted by an article a few days earlier by Martin Kettle, the paper's chief leader-writer and self-appointed classical music expert.
2013 will be the centenary of Britten's birth, and a plethora of celebrations are planned. The composer's homosexuality was well-known during his lifetime, but less well-known, although much whispered about, was his attraction to pubescent, and perhaps pre-pubescent boys. In the aftermath of the Jimmy Savile affair, this is something that induces a queasy feeling, and Kettle goes over some of the old ground in his article. As the dominant figure in British music during the middle years of the 20th century, Britten gathered around him an army of acolytes, admirers, proteges and hangers-on, all of whom are understandably proud of their association with him and defensive about his reputation. One of them is the writer John Bridcut.
Why is Britten's Children a silly and misleading book? Well the clue is in the title. Flick through it and try and find the references to girls. Britten's Boys would have been a better title. I haven't read it for a couple of years, but when I did my overwhelming impression was of a determined attempt to exonerate Britten. Bridcut interviewed a number of people who were "taken up" by Britten, including the actor David Hemmings, and recorded that nothing untoward had taken place between them. Hemmings stated that he was well aware, as the original Miles in The Turn of the Screw, how attracted to him Britten was; it was just that Britten never did anything about it. Bridcut concludes from his failure to find any evidence against Britten that the composer never did anything wicked.
This naive conclusion must be read in the light of the Harry Morris affair. In 1937 Britten, then 24, took Morris, a chorister aged 13, on holiday to Crantock in Cornwall with his family. As a present Britten had bought Morris some new pyjamas. Whilst at Crantock an incident occurred; Morris returned to London and a stand-up row took place between Britten and his elder brother; they were estranged for a time afterwards. Bridcut writes (p.52) that later in life Morris said he had been alarmed "by what he understood as a sexual approach from Britten in his bedroom. He said he screamed and hit Britten with a chair. This brought Beth (Britten's sister) rushing into the room, who, he said, shouted at her brother. She and Ben left, and Beth locked the door. Harry got dressed, packed his bags, and sat waiting for the morning. Without speaking, Beth took him to the station, and dispatched him to London. When he reached home, he told his mother what had happened, but she told him off and refused to believe his story. He never told his father."
Morris died in 2002. Bridcut notes (p.46) that "as an old man he had revisited Crantock, and the experience had made him feel ill". Then, astonishingly, Bridcut goes on, "Benjamin evidently delighted in laying on for Harry the same sort of treats as those he had given (another young protege), and in seeing his eyes light up with fresh experiences beyond his reach at home. This was what motivated him all his life in establishing friendships with boys".
I nearly fell off my chair when I read that last sentence.
With all the participants dead, it is impossible to be specific about what happened between Britten and Morris. But it doesn't seem unreasonable to suppose that this was an incident where Britten's interest in young (and therefore vulnerable) boys crossed the line between thoughts and deeds. It may be the only time Britten did so; it may not be. In either event, Bridcut's general conclusion about Britten's conduct and proclivities is undermined. We know Britten fancied pubescent boys. We don't know whether he ever did anything about it, but Bridcut's conclusion about his motives in "establishing friendships with boys" are surely risible in the light of Morris's experience.
There are further stupidities in Britten's Children, of which perhaps the most egregious are the many pages Bridcut devotes to Britten's relationship with Wulff Scherchen, a young German. It's true the pair met in the early 30s when Scherchen was 13 and Britten 20; but their relationship did not begin until 1938 when Scherchen was at Cambridge. The relationship was between two young men, and quite why Bridcut devotes fifty pages to it in a book called Britten's Children is a mystery.
Does it matter whether Britten if was a paedophile? Well evidently yes if anyone suffered from his attentions; but even if he was it wouldn't make him a bad composer. Wagner isn't a bad composer because he disliked Jews. And to put it the other way round, twenty years of more or less blameless devotion to family life doesn't, sadly, make me a good one either.
In time, Britten's music will stand or fall on its own. Personally I admire his work more than like it - for all its brilliance, I feel it generally lacks heart. He is the Saent-Saens of the 20th century.
What of John Bridcut? His reply to Martin Kettle's article is on this morning's Guardian letters page. "There was no suggestion of impropriety", he writes. Perhaps he should re-read his own book.
2013 will be the centenary of Britten's birth, and a plethora of celebrations are planned. The composer's homosexuality was well-known during his lifetime, but less well-known, although much whispered about, was his attraction to pubescent, and perhaps pre-pubescent boys. In the aftermath of the Jimmy Savile affair, this is something that induces a queasy feeling, and Kettle goes over some of the old ground in his article. As the dominant figure in British music during the middle years of the 20th century, Britten gathered around him an army of acolytes, admirers, proteges and hangers-on, all of whom are understandably proud of their association with him and defensive about his reputation. One of them is the writer John Bridcut.
Why is Britten's Children a silly and misleading book? Well the clue is in the title. Flick through it and try and find the references to girls. Britten's Boys would have been a better title. I haven't read it for a couple of years, but when I did my overwhelming impression was of a determined attempt to exonerate Britten. Bridcut interviewed a number of people who were "taken up" by Britten, including the actor David Hemmings, and recorded that nothing untoward had taken place between them. Hemmings stated that he was well aware, as the original Miles in The Turn of the Screw, how attracted to him Britten was; it was just that Britten never did anything about it. Bridcut concludes from his failure to find any evidence against Britten that the composer never did anything wicked.
This naive conclusion must be read in the light of the Harry Morris affair. In 1937 Britten, then 24, took Morris, a chorister aged 13, on holiday to Crantock in Cornwall with his family. As a present Britten had bought Morris some new pyjamas. Whilst at Crantock an incident occurred; Morris returned to London and a stand-up row took place between Britten and his elder brother; they were estranged for a time afterwards. Bridcut writes (p.52) that later in life Morris said he had been alarmed "by what he understood as a sexual approach from Britten in his bedroom. He said he screamed and hit Britten with a chair. This brought Beth (Britten's sister) rushing into the room, who, he said, shouted at her brother. She and Ben left, and Beth locked the door. Harry got dressed, packed his bags, and sat waiting for the morning. Without speaking, Beth took him to the station, and dispatched him to London. When he reached home, he told his mother what had happened, but she told him off and refused to believe his story. He never told his father."
Morris died in 2002. Bridcut notes (p.46) that "as an old man he had revisited Crantock, and the experience had made him feel ill". Then, astonishingly, Bridcut goes on, "Benjamin evidently delighted in laying on for Harry the same sort of treats as those he had given (another young protege), and in seeing his eyes light up with fresh experiences beyond his reach at home. This was what motivated him all his life in establishing friendships with boys".
I nearly fell off my chair when I read that last sentence.
With all the participants dead, it is impossible to be specific about what happened between Britten and Morris. But it doesn't seem unreasonable to suppose that this was an incident where Britten's interest in young (and therefore vulnerable) boys crossed the line between thoughts and deeds. It may be the only time Britten did so; it may not be. In either event, Bridcut's general conclusion about Britten's conduct and proclivities is undermined. We know Britten fancied pubescent boys. We don't know whether he ever did anything about it, but Bridcut's conclusion about his motives in "establishing friendships with boys" are surely risible in the light of Morris's experience.
There are further stupidities in Britten's Children, of which perhaps the most egregious are the many pages Bridcut devotes to Britten's relationship with Wulff Scherchen, a young German. It's true the pair met in the early 30s when Scherchen was 13 and Britten 20; but their relationship did not begin until 1938 when Scherchen was at Cambridge. The relationship was between two young men, and quite why Bridcut devotes fifty pages to it in a book called Britten's Children is a mystery.
Does it matter whether Britten if was a paedophile? Well evidently yes if anyone suffered from his attentions; but even if he was it wouldn't make him a bad composer. Wagner isn't a bad composer because he disliked Jews. And to put it the other way round, twenty years of more or less blameless devotion to family life doesn't, sadly, make me a good one either.
In time, Britten's music will stand or fall on its own. Personally I admire his work more than like it - for all its brilliance, I feel it generally lacks heart. He is the Saent-Saens of the 20th century.
What of John Bridcut? His reply to Martin Kettle's article is on this morning's Guardian letters page. "There was no suggestion of impropriety", he writes. Perhaps he should re-read his own book.
Friday 23 November 2012
Why I love . . . #2 The Coen Brothers
The Guardian's film reviewer, Peter Bradshaw, today gave Gambit, written by Joel and Ethan Coen, one star. I don't care. I'm going to see it anyway. I love everything the Coens turn out. It's easy to say that Fargo is a great film, or The Big Lebowski, because you'd have to have a heart of stone and a funny-bone bypass to get nothing out of them. But I love the Coen Bros bad films as well. In fact my favourite Coen Bros film is one the press thought was terrible - Intolerable Cruelty.
Opening with a philandering swimming-pool salesman getting shot in the backside, Intolerable Cruelty involves the tribulations of a vacuous much-married socialite (Catherine Zeta Jones) and cynical divorce lawyer (George Clooney). The divorce lawyer, author of a famously impregnable Pre-Nuptial agreement (the "Massey Pre-Nup"), of course falls for the socialite and all manner of capers then ensue as legal convolutions make them rich one minute and a pauper the next, in love one day and estranged the following. Ms Jones is perfectly cast - that she is as wooden as a stake through Stanislavski's heart only makes her more believable - and each time I watch it I have forgotten the plot twists thoroughly enough to enjoy them afresh.
Intolerable Cruelty isn't a great film - the press might be right: it might even be a bad film. I fear Gambit might be a bad film too. But Joel and Ethan are nothing if not intelligent - they know a turkey when they see one - so why do they persist in these modest, popular, unambitious multiplexers when they are also capable of so much more?
It's in the answer that their appeal for me lies. The Coen Brothers just like films - good ones, bad ones, serious ones, funny ones - they don't care. They do it because they can. They are playing. And it is the artlessness of their messing around that I find so appealing.
Opening with a philandering swimming-pool salesman getting shot in the backside, Intolerable Cruelty involves the tribulations of a vacuous much-married socialite (Catherine Zeta Jones) and cynical divorce lawyer (George Clooney). The divorce lawyer, author of a famously impregnable Pre-Nuptial agreement (the "Massey Pre-Nup"), of course falls for the socialite and all manner of capers then ensue as legal convolutions make them rich one minute and a pauper the next, in love one day and estranged the following. Ms Jones is perfectly cast - that she is as wooden as a stake through Stanislavski's heart only makes her more believable - and each time I watch it I have forgotten the plot twists thoroughly enough to enjoy them afresh.
Intolerable Cruelty isn't a great film - the press might be right: it might even be a bad film. I fear Gambit might be a bad film too. But Joel and Ethan are nothing if not intelligent - they know a turkey when they see one - so why do they persist in these modest, popular, unambitious multiplexers when they are also capable of so much more?
It's in the answer that their appeal for me lies. The Coen Brothers just like films - good ones, bad ones, serious ones, funny ones - they don't care. They do it because they can. They are playing. And it is the artlessness of their messing around that I find so appealing.
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