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The last couple of days have been all about the culture. Yesterday was the thoroughly unpublicised single showing of Grindhouse in our fair town, one night only in the Odeon's tiniest screen. [ETA - it's also turnign up -- appropriately-- at the UPP next month.] Rodriguez's half (Planet Terror) is solid stuff, reminiscent of early Cronenberg, and contains universally improving ingredient evil Bruce Willis. Tarantino's Deathproof was a little too faithful to the 70s road movies it was fromaging in that it dragged horribly until the final chase -- although watching the best friend from Wonderfalls and Kiwi Stunt Queen going faster pussycat kill kill on Kurt Russell's arse was actually worth the half hour or so of thinking that if I wanted to hear pretty girls say fuck a lot, I could just go down the pub with my friends. The adverts for imaginary films, though great, were I think one of the reasons why it may not have achieved national release. I'm thinking of a scene in "Thanksgiving" in particular. This trailer for "Don't" had everyone in stitches, though (SFW):


Today was a more sedate affair: boating on the sculpture terraces of the Heyward gallery in a ramshackle coracle made of old desks and chairlegs. It was like a scene from Snowcrash or something -- the temporary pool is level with the parapet, and beyond there are towerblocks, trees and London buses. The tiny boatlets totter alarmingly, and you feel perpetually in danger of being tossed into the water. It's brilliant. Inside, two rooms have been destroyed by shoggoths and an apartment's been smashed by a superhero. There are huge dangling spice stockings and what I suspect is a mere fragment of Rachel Whiteread's dollhouse collection. There's a maze and a metal corridor that looks like something out of Dr Who (or Dr Caligari). Too bad the bouncy castle wasn't taking cloudwalkers but we were assured it would be up by tomorrow. We still smelt of tortured sawdust and peppery spices when we got home.

Afterwards we had overpriced beer outside on the concrete terrace, in the rain, under our umbrellas. Below us, on Jubilee walk, small children puttered around in waterproofs and a man with an enormous telephoto lens hunkered down against the Thames and went through the day's photos. I kept wondering if he'd photograph us, but if he did, he was enough of a professional that I didn't see a thing.

Comments

( 7 worms — Feed the birds )
crazycrone
28th May, 2008 23:27 (UTC)
What's to keep the boatlets from just going over the side...or the suicidally minded from jumping out? I don't like the look of it.
timscience
29th May, 2008 07:42 (UTC)
The boatlets have too much under the waterline to go over the side and if you stood up to jump off, the boat would almost certainly tip you into the water first due to being almost totally unstable.

See, they thought of everything.

/edited for scrambled syntax

Edited at 2008-05-29 10:30 (UTC)
(Deleted comment)
cleanskies
29th May, 2008 10:00 (UTC)
Oh, I missed that, but I remember goggling over photos of the giant rabbit a while back.

The boats and the pontoon -- it's all just bits of junk nailed together -- your feet certainly get wet!
timscience
29th May, 2008 10:27 (UTC)
I have a couple of pics now up here
jasonelvis
29th May, 2008 11:18 (UTC)
Blooming heck that looks fearsome! I'll have to go.
addedentry
29th May, 2008 09:37 (UTC)
FYI, Grindhouse is being shown at the UPP on June 13.
cleanskies
29th May, 2008 09:50 (UTC)
edited
Perfect locale for it
( 7 worms — Feed the birds )