The Interpreter Of Silence

Recently on Disney+ I watched this five part series. It was dubbed into English, not altogether smoothly and I felt that some of the translation and inflections were muddled, but getting past that the premise of the film was intriguing.

A young woman in her twenties, a proficient translator (German/Polish), is called upon to translate for people called as witnesses in a trial. It’s 1963, decades have passed, but the weight of war is still very heavy within the German communities.

It was intriguing from the perspective of, how did the German people explain the horrors of war and living in Europe during the war, to their children. Just take a moment, the fragility of your personal safety, the fragility of your associations, the vehemence of the power of indoctrination and dictatorship of the Reich forcing intelligent people into utterly horrific situations. The cold fingers of suspicion and mistrust everywhere.

The Frankfurt Trials were beginning to uncover and bring into the light the actions of those in charge at Auschwitz and Birkenau, the mass executions, the mass gassing, the branding and the unethical torturous ‘medical research’ callously inflicted upon those interred there.

Apart from hearing the testimonies of the survivors, and visiting the concentration camp, there is the defensive attitude of the defendants. Away from the trial, the stench and stain of the past is far reaching, her parents run a successful restaurant but from time to time a customer appears who her parents refuse to serve, without explanation. She is being courted by a successful young man whose father has secrets too. Sins of the past follow their future.

The hardest bitterest truth to discover is her own. As a small child (she became 24 in 1963, so born at the start of World War II) these snap shot memories slowly fit into place, changing her core truths and trusts.

It was well scripted and acted, if a little bumpy at times, not too too many subtle nuances that were crucial to catch. It was thought provoking and informative without being gory or showy.

This was one of those shows, as with many based on true story dramas, that you cannot say was entertaining or suspenseful but it was a very good watch.

 

The Reckoning

I’m going to premise this review with a disclaimer. No matter what is written or said on this particular subject matter, it in no way excuses, mitigates or concedes any of the absolute deplorable behaviour of this man nor those around him.

Right then. It was with some intrigue and curiosity that I wanted to watch this drama series. I only ever came across him via my very limited exposure to radio and television across the seventies and eighties, namely Top Of The Pops and Jim’ll Fix It. Even from the hue of a black and white television screen there was something that cringed my child like intuition senses as ‘creepy’, ‘weird’ and ‘odd’. His speech delivery, his clothing, his unkempt look, his language when we upgraded to a colour television only heightened those things. How I’d have felt in his presence, is another matter, quite repulsed I imagine.

The mini series begins with his early dj days at various dance halls of Manchester and Leeds, cultivating a strong following of teens, all eager to hear the new music styles of the fifties and sixties, to kick loose the conformity of post war restrictions and that of their parents generation. The notoriety of his position made him influential , at least gave him an aura of power and status, which in turn meant he could coerce any giggly star struck female his eye took.

As his fame grew, so did his exposure to even bigger stages, namely the BBC with prestigious prime time radio and tv programmes. All the while, being reported upon as a charitable gentleman, who took good care of his Mother. He had the front of someone willing to do altruistic deeds to bring cheer and fun to the downcast and young, such as the Leeds Childrens Hospital and Stoke Mandeville Hospital (leading spinal injuries specialists). He was the Mr Goodguy that parents, politicians, prestigious organisations and the press trusted – but with a slight edge.

As he grew older, remember that by the mid seventies he was fifty, his proclivities grew younger, and following the death of his Mother (a relationship never really explained or detailed) more bizarre and odd.

Maybe the lack of understanding, or the lack of knowledge of the depraved behaviour possible by some men meant that, although there were those who were suspicious, it was quickly glossed over by an authority saying “Oh that’s just his way” or “He’s nothing like that”.

As he grew older and those around him in authority younger, the power of his celebrity status diminished, articles questioning him were starting to appear in the newspapers, he became a figure to be investigated and he could no longer keep the control. Following his death, the true vastness of his behaviours and the decades of activity, along with the numbers of children and dead bodies he violated came to light. Utterly deplorable and shameful.

Watching it from a 2023 perspective it is cringingly uncomfortable. The outlandish acts of what we now know as grooming, the obvious manipulation of people (not just victims, but friends, colleagues, bosses, audiences) that enabled his horrendous acts of abuse, the disgusting sexual gratification that this man acted upon, would be unrepeatable today – thank progress for that.

We are more outspoken, quicker to speak out, children are able to shout up. Whilst undoubtedly there is still those who abuse and molest and use fear as a weapon, it is getting harder for them to hide.

I cannot use the phrase that it is a good watch, an excellent piece of entertainment, but it is gripping, thought provoking, eye opening viewing. With the acting interspersed with real life footage it carefully crafts the eras well.

 

Tale Of Two Candy’s

Have you ever ….. ….. so after ages scrolling through numerous streaming apps to find something gripping, interesting, enticing to watch I hit upon a brand new exclusive 7-part series “Love & Death”, a true crime drama, goodie. I clicked ‘go’, thirty minutes in, I felt I had already seen it because it was so familiar but enough was different.

Now half my brain is watching and the other half is trying to figure out why it’s so familiar. I’m ten minutes into the second episode and it suddenly hits me I’ve watched a different series about this drama on a different streaming platform (Candy on Disney+).

I’m too far in to stop watching now!

Only I could end up watching two versions of the same thing.

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After watching both serieseseses of this drama I felt that the “Love And Death” was a little better written and presented than the Disney+ version.

In brief, this is the story of Candy Montgomery, a bored 1970’s educated Christian housewife and mother of two who decides to have an affair with a friend, Betty Gore’s, husband. She goes about this in an organised fashion, almost creating a contract, all very thought out. After the first few motel assignation (which included her bringing lunch with wine) the quest moved from just sexual to conversational friendship, a mutual support network.

Betty had suffered with post natal depression, and other anxiety issues and wanted to work on their marital difficulties and as a consequence the adulterous husband wanted to end the affair (now he has a conscience). All fine and understood, as per terms of the agreement. But life is complicated and friendships were strained for those unknown to some people reasons. Without the why’s and wherefores Betty Gore got wind of this past dalliance and wanted to avenge her man. A death occurs and someone is arrested and tried for the murder…….. I shall leave it there.

I found the premise very interesting and telling of attitudes of that era (sounds like the middles ages I’m sure it wasn’t but twenty years ago). Thousands of women were house tied and children tied despite the highly educated and intelligent standards they had achieved in College or University. The defined ‘women’s work’, the males dominance, the pent up annoyance and irritations, the wealth that your status and manner had.

The music used was the top songs of the era, which had a slight ear worm abilities, triggering the karaoke brain cells.

 

The Journey

I was drawn to this film as it starred Timothy Spall and Colm Meaney, two incredible character actors whose work I’ve admired for many years.

The Journey is the fictional dramatisation of a true event, in 2006 the first initial talks of the Northern Ireland Peace Agreement were being held in St Andrew’s Scotland. An incredibly precarious intense meeting between the two highly charged staunch political figures and their associates. However Dr Ian Paisley needed to return to Northern Ireland to attend the celebration of his golden wedding anniversary, bad weather closed the local airport but when a proposal to use a different airport was put to Martin MaGuinness he cited the protocol that he and Paisley must travel together to prevent any attempted assassination plot, thus the two men were driven to the airport where a private jet awaited them both.

Unbeknown to these two figures MI5 had one of their operatives as the driver, and had bugged the car with microphones and mini camera to listen to what the two men might discusse in hope of getting useable intelligence to help the talks progress. Initially neither man can bear to look at the other, neither wanting to give in and look/speak first either. Both despising the history, the past actions, the beliefs and hopes for the future, it seems impossible to find any uncontroversial common ground.

Timothy Spall as The Reverend Ian Paisley, leader of the Democratic Unionist Party, is astounding, his mastering of mannerisms and instantly recognisable voice and vocal manner is remarkable, along with the craft of make up and wardrobe completing an incredible transformation.

Colm Meaney as Martin MaGuinness the republican politician for Sinn Fein and leader of the Provisional IRA is captivating. There is a true sense of battle weary, concern that the movement and ‘the troubles’ are breeding another generation of soldiers without fully understanding the cause and reasoning. Fighting an unwinable civil war.

Even though I grew up during this era and vividly remember the news reports of street warfare, the terrorist bombings and numerous attacks, the core fight was not really understood or known, other than Catholic versus Protestant. Listening as these two enemies eloquently spoke of their experience through life, their earnest beliefs,

Without giving too much away, gradually through this journey there are cracks in their iron resolve, there are moments where the human comes out instead of the political representative, even moments of mirth, and a couple of plot twists which question what one thinks of the other.

As they are about to board the plane the two men speak alone, perhaps this is the moment when they can acknowledge that while they fervently disagree with each other they can at least respect each other’s passion and commitment.

It’s a film I feel I need to watch again, to enjoy what I know is coming and perhaps catch a few nuances I missed first time around.

 

The Founder

The Founder, currently available on Amazon Prime, is the biopic dramatisation of how Ray Kroc expanded and styled himself as the “founder of The McDonald’s Corporation”.

Michael Keaton’s portrayal of the conniving ruthless all American opportunistic entrepreneur of the mid 50’s through early 60’s is captivating, you grow to dislike the guy. Undoubtedly a hard worker, always looking for the next big thing that will bring him success and progress. His aspirations are genuine it’s his methods that you question.

McDonald’s was a small walk-up diner in San Bernardino operated by the brothers who through trial and carefully planned thought had devised the speedee kitchen system. John Carroll Lynch’s depiction of Maurice “Mac” McDonald is brilliantly calm and tight, you’d maybe wonder if in this modern age he’d possibly be on the Asperger’s/Autistic spectrum with his analytical accute senses and manners. An astute sense of principle, the ethics and ethos of McDonald’s, a small, clean, family friendly eatery that had somehow cornered what ever ‘it’ was that made a burger and fries something so delicious and satisfying. His meticulous attention to detail, that fries are fried at this temp not a degree less, the fries are this thin and that long, there’s always two pickle and burgers uniformly grilled each side. Nick Offerman plays Richard “Dick” McDonald the younger brother more easy going and trusting than his brother, often the trainer and front of house face.

Initially Ray was a travelling salesman trying to sell milkshake machines and when one restaurant ordered eight he was intrigued and drove to see why. He met the brothers, was shown their business and how it operated and he hit upon the idea of franchising. Initially the brothers were resistant as previous attempts had failed due to inconsistent practises, lack of menu control and the McD ethos. While trying to garner investors and potential managers Ray realised rather than big money men investing and immature managers, getting middle class married couple to invest and work maintained the work ethics and family friendly atmosphere. Pushing ahead with a sketch of a diner Mac had drawn that introduces the Golden Arches and bright clean all glass frontage, things begin to roll.

Mac had been meticulous in the contract drawn up between the brothers and Ray but it hampered the gung-ho race forward eagerness of Ray and they constantly argued and differed. Increasingly unhappy with his 1% franchise commission Ray attempts to renegotiate his contract and loosen the brothers grip but they won’t budge, a deal is a deal and they must maintain continuity and control. After a chance conversation with a financial advisor Ray sets up the Corporation to buy land that is then leased to the franchisees, who pay fees to be McDonalds. This was his golden ticket to making money and the start of circumventing the brothers control.

Things come to a head when Dick suffers a diabetic stress collapse and heart attack. The brothers concede to let Ray out of his contract by buying them out, maybe without realising the full ramifications of what that would bring.

Before long Ray forced the brothers to remove the McDonald’s name from their restaurant citing intellectual property rights, he deliberately built the 100th diner across the road from them essentially sealing their demise. At the negotiation of dissolving the contract Ray had persuaded the brothers to agree to a handshake deal on the 1% royalties from the franchise, Ray denied it happened and never paid out. Ray paid each brother just over $1million (about $26milliom in todays money but a fraction of the businesses value today).

Years later when Ray was interviewed he said he liked the name “McDonalds” so much nicer than Kroc, so much more wholesome American.

Today it’s said that on a daily basis McDonalds feeds 1% of the global population – now who’d like to go get me a Big Mac Meal please?

 

A Duvet Of Two Halves

After a summer of stuffy nights, adding into that the flush of menopause and age of the current downy duvet, it was time to replace the duvet, but what to get. Then by accidental browsing I came across this.

A double duvet with one half a summer cool 4.5tog and the other a toasty 10.5tog. I pondered as I read the (mostly) favourable reviews. I thought in the summer I can sleep under the lighter side, in the winter snuggle under the warmer side and if there’s an arctic blast fold the duvet for a toasty potential combined 13.5tog.

So, buttons were clicked, screens were tapped, and I waited for the man in the often white, sometimes grey or blue van to deliver. The new addition was encouragingly stuffed into a cover and waited for its first night time.

This was back in July, the light weight of the thin side was lovely, easy to kick off and claw back. As we head into December I’m still under the light side (thank you hot flushes). The purchase has worked well. With my feet often being the coldest part of me I considered turning the duvet (you do know double duvets are square) with the warmer side across the bottom and the lighter side at the top, but the weight hanging off the end of the bed will likely pull it off, leaving my top half exposed and cold.

I can see how a couple, one who is chilly at night, another whose hot stuff could find comfort beneath.

So fat so good 👍👍

 

Sound Of Metal

The premise of this movie seems straightforward – Ruben is a metal drummer, he and his girlfriend drive around the States in their rv, gigging in numerous backstreet venues, scratching together a ramshackle living. But then in a short space of time he looses his hearing and all stability is lost.

However, after watching this film, which is cleverly put together, there are numerous tricks used that you don’t realise until afterwards, and then you notice that the film has much more deeper levels of philosophical notions.

When we have a sudden debilitating or life changing health issue we want to be fixed, to get back to our “normal”. Ruben wants cochlea implants so he can get back to drumming and life on the road with Lou, where he is comfortable in his known world and the demons and temptations of his pre-Lou life will not invade. But that’s impossible, the clarity of hearing with any aid is not the same as natural hearing, it brings with it difficulties of its own.

Once Ruben is told of his problem, you are taken through how much we rely on ambient sound, how simple things like telephone calls, a conversation with a friend, communicating with a stranger are stressful, frustrating. The initial denial that this new situation is not ‘forever’. Ruben is taken to a deaf community facility, where everyone signs, there are no phones, no use of computers, total submersion in silent life. Here the director uses a clever trick, the sign language is not subtitled, we the viewer like Ruben are unable to understand what is being said around him. But as he learns to use sign and communicate and read people around him, so we get subtitled and find we’ve become more involved, more emotionally invested in his journey.

It’s interesting too, to see the deaf community reaction to these implants. Many deaf communities call them a ‘cure’, a refusal to embrace deafness as a lifestyle and not a disability or something of shame, people with implants are often shunned from such communities. But isn’t a hearing aid/implant the same as a prosthetic to the amputee? A tool, an aid, to be used when needed! Hmm, interesting notion.

Ruben is determined to get the implants, to leave the community, despite the calmness, the inclusion and friendship, the place and purpose he discovers, and return to Lou and music. When he gets that chance, is it all that it is expected to be, that what’s best for the two of them, or does Ruben need to find that inner place of stillness.

My common niggle with films of this nature is how you get the notion of time, maybe I didn’t pick up on the changes of the seasons on the trees to get that sense that we are passing through the months. I don’t recall scenes with things like Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, Independence Day, Graduation Day celebrations going on, being in the U.K. snow on the ground could be anytime, it’s snowed in June before now.

I recommend watching this film, it’s moving, telling, heart tugging, rarely amusing, but so insightful.

 

Just Ignore Him – Alan Davies

It was with a degree of trepidation that I began this read, a curious reason to choose to read the book at all you may think. You see, I had read many glowing reviews and critics praise, so often I find them so over hyped and the opposite to my own conclusions, and also because I enjoy Alan’s skills and abilities as a comedian, panellist and actor across many years and I was intrigued and eager to hear about his history.

Thanks to his “As Yet Untitled” series on Dave and of course QI I had gleaned a few snippets of info, I know Australia featured strongly, that his Mum had died when he was very young, that he had a turbulent relationship with school and so forth, but not the core happenings, the fundamentals that form our foundations. His journey that took him from a child to adulthood, from innocent exploration to working family man.

This memoir is not a chronological diary of life, picking out those highlights or significant events that either helped or hindered his progress through life, interspersed with whimsical anecdotes. This is an honest, touching account from a survivor of life as a sexually abused child. It is phenomenally well written, at no time is Alan portrayed as the hapless, silent victim, but the confused child, struggling to comprehend weighty issues, in an environment of isolation, by which I mean alone within his own family as well as in a crowd.

Reading and understanding how his fathers behaviour towards him across many years affected his every moment through out life was incredibly enlightening. The conflicting emotions and signals, the ‘special secret’ versus being ignored or intentionally reprimanded. The feeling of displacement and disconnection around him. At the core there is this influential figure, a father, the person you have an instinctive affection towards, who is supposed to protect you and teach you about life. Realising the perversions of this authoritative presence and the extent of them and how they still prevailed in his dotage.

It has left scars, fractured the family somewhat, still rearing its ugliness on Alan to this day. Taking the brave step of reporting his father’s behaviour to the authorities must have been such an incredibly hard thing to balance in your own mind, the tugging to and fro with the pros and cons. He has my continued admiration.

It was powerful to read about his misbehaviour, the antics that some may say was attention seeking, maybe it was, maybe not having the nurturing, caring, maternal aspect at home he was seeking it from somewhere else, in some misguided fashion to fit in a place comfortably. All children have phases of tantrums and boundary pushing, it’s a process of learning and growing, but it can also be a red flag to something not being ‘right’ there is more to this behaviour than growing pains. As adults we are incredibly blind to spotting the subtle signals of difference.

I hope Alan has found calmness within himself as his adult life has progressed, getting the support and understanding from his wife, a fresh fun zest in life as his own children grow. That he knows he has value to other people.

 

The Cecil Hotel, LA

Recently I binged the Netflix documentary series Crime Scene The Vanishing At The Cecil Hotel, it was an interesting watch, if you’re into real life oddness.

It centres around the Cecil Hotel in downtown Los Angeles, a 700-room hotel opened in the mid-1920’s just before the Great Depression, along with several grand hotels in the area it enjoyed a period of opulent prosperity and was aimed at the middle class traveller and business men. After World War II the area, also known as Skid Row, fell further into transience as fortunes changed, the stark increase in sex workers, drug dealing and users, along with those unable to afford rents and the increasing protocol to herd the homeless into a manageable area of the ever expanding City, increased criminal activity.

Curiously ever since the Hotel first opened it has been linked to suicides, mysteries and murders. The first documented suicide was January 22, 1927, when Percy Ormond Cook shot himself in the head while inside his hotel room after failing to reconcile with his wife and child. In 1967 “Pigeon Goldie” Osgood long-term resident, a retired telemarketer was found dead in her room, she had been raped, stabbed, beaten and her room ransacked. Her murder remains unsolved. The Press often linked the hotel to numerous serial killers. Frequently residents had died from drug overdoses or long term substance and/or alcohol abuse. There is even a Wikipedia page detailing some of them.

The documentary beds itself around the disappearance in February 2013 of young Canadian student Elisa Lam. She was an avid blogger and frequently documented her travels, fashion, life thoughts online garnering many regular followers. When away from home she called home everyday, after her parents hadn’t heard from her they called the LAPD and news started circulating about a missing person. As the Police struggled to piece together Elisa’s movements they released the elevator CCTV footage, it went viral and set in motion an interesting series of events.

An army of ‘web-sleuths’ scrutinised in meticulous details, frame by frame, the cctv sparking the beginnings of numerous conspiracy theories, many still perpetuate. Things like, why’s the time stamp jumping, the door isn’t closing, whose that shadow. Suddenly people across the globe were gathering in FaceBook groups to discuss minute anomalies, some visiting the hotel to re-enact and trace where she had been. What I found very telling as the documentary continued was how this congregation of unqualified amateurs ardently believed they could succeed where the professionals could not and that they believed every morsel of conjecture and hypothesis from a straightforward mugging gone wrong to the CIA using vanishing vaporise lasers. But there was more to come.

SPOILER ALERT :: if you don’t want to know the outcome I’d suggest ceasing here …. thank you for reading ….

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….. Okay dear reader, I hope you’re not eating or drinking while you read on.

…….

About two to three weeks after Elisa’s vanishing a few hotel guests and residents started to complain that the water had an odd odour and taste and the water then started to change colour to a sludgy brown. A maintenance worker was sent to inspect the four roof top water tanks. Sadly one of them contained the floating bloating remains of a young girl, later identified as the missing traveller.

Now the merry band of web sleuths really had something to get overly involved with. From behind their screens and keyboards they pieced together bits of facts with leaps of notions, ignored some elements and fantasised others, to quite catastrophic levels.

Attention turned to how did Elisa get onto the roof. The access door was locked and alarmed, this meant that the hotel management had to be involved, a member of night staff had to have killed her. The design of the building meant that there was a metal fire escape on the outside, a series of stairs and platforms covering all fifteen floors, including the roof, accessed from a hallway window that was not alarmed, locked or monitored in anyway. Debris on the roof showed that it was frequently used by people to smoke, drink, take drugs, have parties etc.

The nature of her discovery caused a media frenzy as a police chief was leaving the hotel trying to get through the jostling crowd of reporters he was asked a question which he hastily replied “When Officers approached the water tank the hatch was closed”. The web brigade pounced on this to mean that she must have been dumped because no-one could close the hatch from the inside, so it must be murder. The officer was correct in his statement, because when the maintenance worker noticed the hatch was open and that’s when he discovered the grizzly contents and had closed the hatch from habit as he called for help.

Searches across the internet brought up ‘evidence’ of a Mexican death metal singer called Morbid, due to his chilling lyrics, which included a reference to a girl drowning and his dark videos addressing death (one was filmed at The Cecil), along with having stayed there, meant he must have lured her to the rooftop and killed her. He was hounded, trolled, and harassed over a period of months, received death threats and villanised as a murderer by the Court of Online Public Opinion. It caused him to suffer a breakdown and such depression that he attempted suicide. The ‘evidence’ grasped by the onliners was years old and at the time of Elisa vanishing Morbid was in Mexico but even still today eight years later he still get mail labelling him a murderer.

One aspect of Elisa’s life was, to some degree, suppressed until late on in the investigations and not readily available, she had been diagnosed as bi-polar and had a history of intentionally not taking the prescribed medication, which had caused her to experience strong psychotic episodes, along with hallucinations in the past. Armed with this knowledge, along with the Coroner’s report showing toxicology levels and there being no evidence of any assault or violence on her body, it was concluded that her death was accidental.

At the end, I felt sad that this young life had ended, that so many innocent people had been branded and abused because of tenuous links but mostly I was concerned, almost worried, about the mob mentality and power of online collectiveness. This ferocious hungry entity eagerly hurrying for instant information, affirmation and inconsequential action feels a little bit like Pandora’s box.

 

Tim Minchin

It’s not very often that my ear worm chooses a whole artist but recently while lazing in bed or pootling on the iPad I suddenly get the urge to sing “……fuck I love boobs though…..”, maybe it’s just as well I am not out and about in public!

Tim Minchin describes himself as a musician, but this underplays his artistry, his creative skills and his often dark humour. How he analyses the things that make you think, how he dissects and interprets thoughts, ideas, philosophies and puts them into a song that hooks you in linguistically, musically, emotionally and mentally. But what is it about his creations that seem to appeal to me.

Maybe it is his acrobatic linguistics and agility, in songs like Prejudice or his piano whimsy of Rock & Roll Nerd, maybe it is the poignancy of I’ll Take Lonely Tonight or the deep thought of Not Perfect, perhaps it’s the pure risqué amusement of Inflatable You or the musicians amusement of F Sharp, he performs a couple of beat poems which take you on a journey so adroitly, especially Storm. It could be the absurdity that he sees meets with me.

Now I should add a warning here, he uses language some don’t care for and he has opinions that some would not agree with, especially on the controversial topics like religion, creationism. It is not a mocking attitude, more of an “I’ve read and listened but still don’t understand how people wholeheartedly believe ‘this'”.

I enjoy watching his live performances as his expressions and timings add another layer of language, there are few piano players that almost mesmerise me, Jools Holland is another, Tim seems to throw his hands (and sometimes feet) at the keys and they always hit the right notes, the right way at the right time, he cannot sit still as he plays (unless it’s a serious song). He tends to perform barefoot, a throwback to early experimental days where going barefoot helped him feel confident and quelled the stage nerves.

It took me a while to decide which song to link here, I make no apology if you find yourself merrily, absentmindedly singing “…..fuck I like boobs though….”