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B*llocks. I wonder if Empire is still doing What's that film? Hey ho. Anyway, it's a pretty good film, if you
Damian on 28 Days later: all those eyeballs ... where are all the crows? (Which lead to a long discussion of the probable cost of hiring crows, the impeccable performance of the hero crow in one of the scenes, the likelihood that all the crow population was full of eyeballs by then, and how it would have been good if they'd thought to have seagulls eating the bodies as well, and speculation as to whether seagulls cost more than crows. Eyeballs being much on our minds.)
Before that we saw the Turner Prize, and, damn-it, it's a bit good this year. There are crazy god-story machines and weird cartoons, films made using cranes and toy helicopters, huge full-stops you can sit on and a billboard-sized wipe-clean bright pink description of what sounded like actually quite a fine porn flick. There's also a boring one which I suppose will probably win; a rather nice ceiling (but no nicer than any of a dozen you might see in a decent High street/Office complex) plus a very Wallpaper portfolio in a dull glass case. Yaaaaaawn. The Tate Britain's gone a bit strange, actually, since I was last there. I suppose they're feeling the squeeze from the Tate Modern. Which we dropped into to see Marsyas, the Arnish Kapoor sculpture the size of the sky. Named for the flayed faun, sticky dark red and looped around the huge Turbine Hall like a blimp being folded through too many dimensions at once, it's definitely a spectacle, like a mountain or a nearby tower block; too big to really comprehend, and therefore prone to disappearing from your vision in a disorientating way. Combine that with the way the struts seem to pulse in its dim heights, the lack of obvious support, and the uncomfortable sense that it is twisting away from you in pain whichever angle you view it from, the huge enfolding gramaphone mouths and the weak gleams of light knocking around inside it ... it's a strange sight indeed. Strange, and big.
