MrGareth’s Missives

Some friends asked me to combine my passion for movies and San Francisco to help them prepare properly for a forthcoming once-in-a-lifetime holiday there.  I got carried away and decided to make it a blog post.  So here it is...

Have you noticed how whenever San Francisco is in a movie it almost becomes a character in it.  Like only a few other cities, LA, Paris and New York, the streets of San Francisco always features in movies that are shot there like the director fell for the place and is seeking to do more than just film a story there.  I once heard that Hitchcock specifically wanted to do this with Vertigo – but it seems the case across the board.  It is not surprising.  It is the city that most feels like a friend to me.

The absolute best movie to watch about San Francisco, the totally quintessential viewing of this simply super city is of course Bullitt.  This movie does more for the undulating contours of the place than a map in terms of giving you a feel for the landscape of the town.  That car chase is perhaps some of the most excillerating 20 minutes in car chase history.  Every other car chase seeks to build on it or reference it in some way.  Moreover, those 70s sounds can play in your mind as you cruise the streets here. 

(In fact, I knew some people who payed their own tribute to that scene, drunk late at night offering taxi drivers to get up some speed and do the big hills around Russian Hill just as Steve McQueen did; offering double the fare if the driver "got air" and triple to lose a hub cap!)

One movie that seeks to echo that chase more than any other is of course "The Rock" which brings me to the very first MUST DO adventure: Alcatraz.  You can get to know this outstanding landmark and history magical mystery tour in movie alone: The Rock with Sean Connery and Nic Cage, Escape from Alcatraz with Clint Eastwood, or Birdman of Alcatraz with Burt Lancaster.  but the visit itself will stay with you forever, long after the scenes of the movies have faded.  Allow the best part of the day for it, book in advance and give it your best mood or you will regret not making the most of this thrilling yarn. 

Affer your trip to Alcatraz, one great place to have a drink is the bar at the Hyatt Regency.  OK, so there are better places to go for a drink, but when I popped in here recently I suddenly realized it is the setting for several scenes in the Mel Brooks comedy High Anxiety which is shot all over San Fran.  It's classic Brooks slapstick mostly at the expense of Hitchcok thrillers, most of all Vertigo with James Stewart.  Now this film is definitely one to watch before visiting, and inspired a great trip that I made on my first visit: The Californian Legion of Honor art gallery.  It's a very brief scene where Stewart stalks his obsession to a gallery for the afternoon.  But the setting for it is a beautiful building, nestled in a park right on the coast and allowing a short walk to see the Golden Gate bridge, is a must do I think...and also contains a most memorable collection of Rodin sculptures.

There's lots of movies about San Francisco that touch different parts of the town, including Zodiac with Robert Downey Jnr, which spends a lot of time around City Hall.  Towering Inferno - with Steve Mcqueen, Paul Newman and a hat full of others - offers several amazing sky scapes of the financial district and the Bay, especially from the helicopter flight right at the start.  Not only do a host of Hollywood stars feature in this film but numerous buildings including the Hyatt (again), the Bank of America Building and The St Francis Hotel.  

 Also, Guess who's coming to Dinner - with Sidney Poitier, Spencer Tracy and Catherine Hepburn - is set against the backdrop of the Bay at sunset.  One excursion made by the Ms Hepburn and Spencer Tracey in GWCTD takes them to Mel's Drive-in on Lombard.  Coincidentally, the Mission Street restaurant of the same name is the place where American Graffitti is shot.  (Now the latter does not belong in this post because it's not actually meant to be in San Francisco - is just Sometown, USA.  But is of tremendous Movie significance because it saw not only the early directorial development of George Lucas but also a first major acting role for that other great Director - Ron Howard.)

If all of that isn't enough, an imminent trip to San Francisco is a great excuse to watch Dirty Harry with Clint Eastwood again; while Trekkies will know that Star Trek IV is all about San Francisco, with the Golden Gate Bridge starring regularly.  A film called Tales from the City is also all over San Fran, but I've never seen it so can't comment.

I figure that should be plenty to get anyone so well acquainted with this city that arriving for the first time is like meeting an old friend!

UPDATE: I did learn from a recent trip that Bodega Bay where The Birds was shot is only about 90 mins'drive north from San Francisco.  I always thought it was further north than that.

In a funny sort of way, I'm learning more about Libya now than when I visited the country more than 10 years ago.  It is like I am only now getting the punchline of a joke I heard over a decade before.  Amid the revolt currently still in play, I'm reinterpreting the memories of a holiday I thought I understood at the time but realise now I saw only a strange veneer of a more mysterious reality. 

On several occasions, Libyans we met would say that what was so marvelous about their country was that unlike their neighbors - Egypt and Tunisia - they did not pimp themselves for the tourist dollar.  They were as they were, no charade for appearances and no performance for the extra tip.  You got what you saw, and what you saw was the truth.  They would say they did not "show the other face".  You got the actual face of Libya. 

Well, in fact this is the joke.  The joke that is on me, that is.  For I bought this story hook, line and sinker.  There was I delighting in all this sincerity and honesty, when in fact the biggest lie of all was being told all the time. Knowing everything I know now about the viscious oppression of this regime; its secret police, its torture and imprisonments it is now clear this was a society in denial.  This was a community in fear.  This was a country repressed.

Accustomed as I am to a culture of irreverent political debate and continuous municipal critique, I assumed that because no one was complaining, and every street was adorned by adoring images of The Colonel, that this was a nation at peace with it's leader and his regime.  This is what I am now de-constructing, examining all my memories of that amazing fortnight and posing the question: was that real?

For instance, I just the other day received an email from my traveling companion at the time, recollecting the middle aged gentleman - Mohammed - who showed such limitless hospitality to us, insisted on paying for our accommodation and took us out to dinner every night.  We assumed that he had a crush on my companion and was simply demonstrating the traditional Bedouin hospitality crossed with macho bravado.  Now we wonder: was he working us, was he on duty, was he secret police?

In 1999, it was still very hard to get into Libya.  We had to get an official invitation to the country to qualify for a visa.  We could not fly direct, we ended up getting a taxi from Tunisia!  At that time it was very unusual to travel independently, rather than in organized groups.  We prided ourselves that with the post-Lockerbie thaw only just begging, we were probably some of the first backpackers to visit the country in 15 years or more.  In view of what is now coming out about the regime, it is perhaps not utterly out of the question that our apparently dutiful host was taking more than just a friendly interest in our movements. 

In fact, we had strange and unique welcomes in almost every town we visited.  It was only on our trip south to the desert and the wild atmosphere of the Saharan dunes and oasiseseses that we felt like we were having a more typical tourist experience, free to do as we wished.  Elsewhere we were almost hounded, or haunted, by the unabashed hospitality of one person or another; usually men, but sometimes their entire families were involved.  Were we their guests or their charges?

It is hard to overstate how much colonel Gaddafi's image dominates the Libyan landscape, or at least did.  You felt his presence everywhere, like the all seeing eye.  He attended my uncle's engagement party in 1968 in Tripoli shortly before he seized power.  He apparently swept in, like a royal prince, surrounded by entourage, and left just as quickly and just as mysteriously.  I read his Little Green Book, some of which I even agreed with, like his thoughts on the hypocrisy of party politics, where the party claims to act in the interests of the nation, when in reality they only act in their own best interests.  However, I also read the section about international revolution that ultimately led to the dreadful terrorism and the punitive bombing raids.  He lost his daughter in those raids, only a fraction of the misery he inflicted on the people of Lockerbee and the passengers of Pan Am flight 103.

All of that was only recent history when we crossed the border into Libya in November 1999.  We had zero idea of what to expect.  There was no Lonely Planet guide to Libya.  There were no anecdotes from friends. When we entered Tripoli, we found people shouting out of their car windows as they drove passed, "hello, how are you, welcome to our country."  Everyone told us again and again, “your second home”, and it felt it. 

The overwhelming welcome we received looked briefly in danger when walking around the Old Town in Tripoli - the scene of US and British bombing raids still very much in living memory.  An old man in the street saw us and began castigating us: "heathen, infidel, murderers!" for a moment my life flashed before my eyes as unimagined myself hanging from the nearest lamppost.    I relaxed quickly as I sawbthe faces of all the other people on the street, laughing.  Laughing with us and at him, "crazy old man!"

The visit quickly became exactly the kind of magical mystery tour we had hoped for, with all the off-the-beaten-track purity you do not get with a well-trodden destination.  The internal flights were still dogged by the fact that 15 years of sanctions meant the decaying fleet of planes had escaped maintenance or replacement for nearly a generation.  As we boarded a plane from Benghazi to Tripoli, the gentleman next to me jokingly made explosion noises as we started to take off.  We changed all our money on the black market for three times the value.  We shared overnight bus rides across the desert with illegal immigrants from Chad...and the associated secret police. 

As the regime enters what looks like its final hours, it seems ironic now that all the talk is of US jets instituting a no-fly zone to stop Gaddafi bombing his own people, when 25 years ago they were the ones bombing him and his people. I can only hope he sees sense soon and concedes defeat to prevent any more violent deaths.  Perhaps then Libya can become in reality what it appeared to me eleven years ago - one of the best tourist destinations in the middle east.  (Not least because of Leptis Magna - THE most impressive and best preserved Roman Ruins outside of Italy. )  

Of course The Ashes series here in Australia has dominated the summer; a contest involving a strong rivalry, oscillating fortunes, controversy and naturally some great performances with bat and ball that has done the game of cricket proud.  But at the risk of trying the patience of those more than over the subject,  there’s also been another series, going by the same name and involving many of the same characteristics – but one also I like to think doing the game proud.

While the first has been dione and dusted for very nearly two months now, this somewhat smaller and less well known contest came to its denouement today in the tense final minutes as the English tail wagged and the series came down right to the wire after looking all but there for the taking for the Australians.

Now I should add, this is not a professional series.  In fact this effort is so amateur there wasn’t one nets session the whole summer.  The crowd was considerably less than the hundreds of thousands who attended the other Ashes, and no one watched it on television.  While there was some sponsorship, it amounted to a few hundred dollars invested in shirts a couple of years ago – and we are still wearing them.

But make no mistake, there was just as much at stake.

With Australia taking the first match back in November – at the same venue, Tunks Park on Sydney's North Shore; and England taking the second (which I was not able to play in) in December in Balmain, the series was level.

The rules are very slightly different too: 35 overs, forced retirement after scoring 25 runs (able to come back in later when all the other batsmen are out), five overs only per bowler and a free hit for the one’s first ball.  The atmosphere of “everyone should have a go” drives the game to ensure to full participation.  God knows with the quality of my batting and bowling, I’m a big fan of these rules!

Some early and impressive wickets from the dangerous bowling of England Captain, Mr Garvey, and England looked confidently in control before the bowlers and fielders tired in the 30 degree heat and the Australians ran up an intimidating 213 by the 35th over.  For the Australians, Mssrs Finn and Clarke in particular, the bat became an extension of their arms and the runs just kept coming and the chances were missed (not least when I perplexingly dropped a sitter of a catch!)  But with a wicket in the last over, we at least went into tea upbeat.

The English batting got off to a fairly strong start after one early wicket and a successful chase was built – mainly by the Man of the Match, Mr Cutler, carrying an unhealed broken thumb.  But then calamity struck.  A mid-order batting collapse any English side would have been proud of.  Suddenly the required run rate got away from us and the wickets piled up.  Penetrative bowling by the Australians  did for the English – myself included, caught behind for 7 – and by tea, even their English team mates had given up and began making plans for the evening.

But quietly, while the crowd – numbering about twenty people, half of them under 10 – became embroiled in preparing food, drinking beer and generally chewing the fat, the English tag wagged.  And wagged. And wagged.  Eleventh Man Mr Riley built successive partnerships with returning 25-ers Mssrs Cutler and Garvey and before long the target was in sight.  Suddenly it was 23 runs needed from 18 balls.  The total was finally put away with a loudly-cheered six in the last over and the poms stole the series 2-1.

After eight years – five of which I have been lucky enough to be involved - the whole rivalry is now locked at four-four.  Season 2011-12 will no doubt take the tension to a new level!

(Pictures here.)

I usually run a mile from the kind of George Clooney-staring Romantic adventure that this looked suspiciously like but luckily I gave it a few minutes and found that it is in fact a pretty refreshing story. "Up in the Air" is a bit kooky, but in a good way. But there's a fascinating sub-plot I wish I'd understood when I watched it.

The plot is a simple one.  Clooney plays a man deliberately bereft of belongings or relationships who flies about the US - obsessed with loyalty points – firing people for a living.  As you can imagine, in the current environment this keeps him pretty busy.  (Trailer.)

But for once the extras – in both senses of the word – are as important as the main attraction (I guess also in both senses of the word for ladies).  They feature the kind of  short interviews with the director - Jason Reitman, of "Juno" and "Thank you for smoking" - and some of the actors which are usually  meaningless and completely unrevealing.  But in this instance, it focuses on two aspects of the film.  The first and less important is that all the airport scenes were shot not in the studio, but in...the airports!  I didn’t immediately register what the chief challenge of this would be until they explained – there are constant announcements!  So the number of takes they had to do were usually many-multiples.  I should watch it again to see how this improves the scenes or demeans them as the protagonists must have been really quite jaded with the dialogue by the umpteenth time!

However, the yet more interesting thing is that, in order to convey the true pain, humiliation and shock of being fired, instead of attempting to imagine lines himself, the Reitman invited recently fired people from real life to deliver their own recollections on screen.  So what you see – and again I didn’t realise as I watched but did suspect – is real people talking about really getting fired in language they either did or would have liked to have used at the time.  They were taken mainly from the Detroit area which as you probably appreciate with the complete implosion of the US car industry provided a great deal of material.

They describeit as a movie of its time, examining present day dislocation in two ways.  First, the dislocation brought by sudden termination at a time of 10 per cent unemployment and in some case too late in life to easily re-train.  But also the kind of dislocation brought to many people so dedicated to their work that they are constantly up in the air, with no time for real relationships and dependent only on the internet and phone network for any friednly human interaction. 

So... worth a watch, very thought provoking.

I have for a long time maintained the view that great songs and movies should be "listed" like famous or important buildings are.  If you plan to remake or cover them in any way, you should have to submit your plans and ideas to a committee of the establishment for review.  If they don't make the cut, project off.  This process would have stopped cultural attrocities like the remake of The Italian Job, or William Shatner's cover of "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds". <Calm down and focus>.

But when I heard The Cohen Brothers were re-making True Grit with Jeff Bridges playing Rooster Cogburn - the role made so famous by John Wayne - I was at once nervous and excited.  While I felt sure they would do a fabulous job (almost without exception everything they touch turns to gold - with the possible exception of "Oh Brother, where are thou?") I was worried, it is a pretty bold project to take on.  Afterall, the 1969 True Grit is one of the all time masterpieces of the Western genre.  Furthermore, had it not been such a success in the first place, the story of a 14 year old girl and two strange men many times her age wondering about in the wilderness is a kind of kooky plotline perhaps unsuitable for today's atmosphere of child-vulnerabilty.  

So I almost counted the days until this project arrived at my door; but simaltaneously worried that the greatest movie-making partnership in recent history had over-stretched itself.

Well, it hasn't, they haven't.  In short - and at pains not to ruin it for anyone - they have, I believe, stayed very close to Charles Portis' book.  Mr Bridges is at least as good as John Wayne - which is some achievement, as Wayne made that role very much his.  Matt Damon gives far more deoth to the Texas Ranger character than Glen Campbell ever did and Hailee Steinfeld brings a reality and credulity to the Mattie Ross role that her predecessor just never got close to.

It's beautifully made as you would expect from those that brought you "Fargo" - with extra oversight by Steven Speilberg as Executive Producer.  The soundtrack reminds me of the Ken Burns documentaries on The Civil War and The West, which brings a very evocative mood to the piece.  The atmosphere they create in the opening phase - far more carefully conveyed than the original as well - sets you far deeper into the times of the post-Civil War American West than its 1960s counterpart.  

There are very few plot departures from the first iteration.  Notably, the Texas Ranger, LeBoueff, is absent at two of the key moments in the story where he is ever Wayne-side in the original.  But overal, this film feels like a loving tribute.  It hasn't really improved on, it has reprised with new production techniques; new actors have re-evaluated and re-interpreted the characters some; and the storyline has been revisited - but it's surprising how similar the two films remain.  Amusingly Lucky Ned Pepper is played by namesake Barry Pepper who also brings new style to the role but also echoes the outstanding work of Robert Duvall in '69.

So, this is a great example of how a re-make can add value, not threaten to replace and even regenerate the original.  Well done Mr and Mr Cohen - tremendous grit!

UPDATE (14/2): A good friend of mine tried to leave this as a comment but the technology failed him.  But I felt it was worth including as it goes to a point I meant to make myself, and would have done - far less effectively though - had I not forgotten!

"But what stood out most for me was the language. This might be expected from a coen bros film, but, apparently, was mostly taken from the book.  From Screen Junkies:

"The dialogue, the formality of it and the floweriness of it is just from the book,” Ethan Coen said at a press conference for the film.  Supporting cast member Barry Pepper (as Lucky Ned Pepper), weighed in on the unique language.  “It was more like doing American Shakespeare,” Pepper said. “There’s almost like an iambic pentameter. There’s a musicality and a rhythm to the dialogue. It’s about trying to hit certain notes, maybe an irreverent falloff at the end of a line. It’s such a gift to be able to give some sort of lateral idea to an actor like, ‘Oh, I didn’t hear the musicality of the line like that.’ Just the scene blossoms, completely changes and becomes darkly humorous or odd or quirky or wonderful, bizarre.

The language in the book is based on Portis’s research of the period, so it’s probably more accurate than the westerns we usually see at the movies. Pepper had another theory: “It’s so authentic in my mind because most people were probably pretty illiterate back then”. “They were maybe schooled on the King James bible and that really infused the way they spoke. I think a lot of westerns missed that.” Ethan Coen agreed. “I’m sure Barry’s right,” he said. “You feel even more strongly reading the novel, the frame of reference for her character (as the narrator) is the King James bible."

It's not unusual to be disapointed with political debate in Australia, but this week past - the first week of real combat in 2011 - has been especially poor in terms of political discourse.  Just as a levy breaking triggers the influx of flood waters; so this levy tax debate has triggered a flood of political idiocy.

First, I really dont see why people are so upset with a levy at all.  Ás is often the case, Australians turned charity in the wake of the floods disaster into an Olympic sport at which they could claim dominance.  The generosity was immediate, unqualified and copious.  The total as of the time of writing is $201 million, which is pretty impressive by any standards for a country of only 20 million = $10 for every man, woman and child.

So, you would imagine it wouldn't create that much of a fuss, would be in fact a slam-dunk, if the government wanted to make a levy to raise funds to assist in the reconstruction.  $200 Million will certainly help with the compensation of individuals as they rebuild their own lives, but the roads (see picture), the ports and the electricity infrastructure completely wrecked in South East Queensland - not to mention now the Yasi disaster zone - will cost a lot more than that to repair.  The total bill is expected to be a staggering $5.6 billion!

The Levy was pitched at a modest level (merely a fifth of the total bill) and is means-tested - for most the equivalent of two coffees a week for a year.  To me this addresses a couple of realities: that the huge generosity of Australians will naturally wane after the TV pictures recede with the water levels; and that while some give generously, some simply don't.  So the Levy institutionalises that generosity for a year to make sure that the state of Queensland is fully rebuilt, but also equalises and makes the national donation fair.  All pay according to their means, the miserly as well as the generous; and the rich pay their fair share proportionate to those less well off.

Not only have many whinged and complained; the political "elite" have seized on the opportunity to make political capital - and have done it very, very badly.  First, there is Premier Kristina Keneally, attempting to appeal to New South Wales voters (weeks before her impending electoral doom) by trying to make out that New South Wales voters are worse off than the rest of the country and should be excluded from the full weight of the levy.  If it wasn't such a blatant attempt to endear herself to her electorate as the ballet axe begins to fall, I would give the substance of what she said some thought - but it is, so I won't.

Then cue the master of political insensitivity, Tony Abbott, who sees in the levy another opportunity to opportunistically replay his dual broken records of "great big tax" and "school buildings rort" by opposing the levy vehemently; and rather than uniting in some kind of bi-partisanship-in-the-face-of-national-disaster...has gone for the jugular.  In fact, in doing so he lost sight of the great suffering at the heart of the debate by sending out a letter asking - instead of donations to flood victims - for donations to the Liberal party in order to fight the levy!

Personally speaking, I gave to the fund but recognise that there's going to be a lot more needed when all the television camera crews have long since flown out of Far North Queensland and people are left to rebuild their lives.  So I am happy to pay a dollar a day for a year to rebuild Queensland.  Not only mining, but agriculture and tourism all bringing in a mint for the Australian economy.  This is important stuff.

One piece of sensible commentary I do want to applaud is that of Tony Windsor, the Independent consistently the making the most sense in Canberra.  Lets have a permanent disaster relief fund next time.  Every one of the ten years I've been in Australia there has been some terrible disaster.  Some worse than others but be it bushfire, flood or storm - this is a continent ever beset by a cataclysm of one sort and we should always be prepared. 

So lets go through this debate again please; its very, very, very unseamly.

"The balance needed for a happy life is illusory "

So occasionally you see a film blind, with absolutely no information, opinion or judgement.  It is rare, because almost always someone has led you to believe it is good or bad.  Or you've read a review, or seen it on television, or heard it on the radion.  You've usually formed a perception of a film.  Well, I managed to watch this having never heard of it and having only the blurb on the jacket to go by. I loved it.  You rarely get such a surprise in life as this when it comes to movies.

"Leaves of Grass" stars someone I think is quickly become the new John hurt.  John Hurt is such a good choice of script, you know that if he decided to do it, it's going to be good.  Ed Norton is the same.  Everything he is in is remarkable -  Kingdom of Heaven,  The Illusionist, American History X, Fight Club and 25th Hour - and this is no exception. I knew I was going to enjoy it from the opening scene (kookily with Danny De Vito's daughter!). 

Well leaves of grass is another one of those for me.  A quite marvelous movie that could have been written and directed by my favorite movie makers - the Cohen Brothers.  But wasn't.  Was actually written and directed by Tim Blake Nelson, one of the co-stars. It's about philosophy, crime, drugs, happiness, romance and it's all set amusingly in Oklahoma. 

I fell for Kerri Russell's character almost as fast as Mr Norton's did, and the cameos from Susan Sarandon and Richard Dreyfuss - two of my favourite actors - are fabulous. 

To get a movie to hit all the buttons is rare, but this one does it.  It's funny, but has danger.  It is romantic, but is dark in places.  It is thought provoking, and makes you consider - as the jacket says: "what does it truly mean to be happy?". But most of ll it has really enjoyable characters that you wish you could meet and visit.  Watch this film, and watch it soon! 

"when death is, we are not; when we are, death is not. It is therefore irrational to fear death."

"I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul. "

Invictus, by William Ernest Henley 

I was always a bit confused by "Invictus".  If anyone would make a movie about South African sport, you'd feel sure it would be about their far more impressive World Cup win in France in 2007, with a much more racially mixed side, and away from home.  Or of course the football world cup last year,  much more inclusive sport and a far bigger stage. 

I was confused because the springbok side of 1995 was almost entirely all white, except for Chester Williams, which seemed to me to represent everything about the past rather than the future.

In fact there's a scene of something I actually remember watching back in 1995, before the Springboks play France in the pouring rain; a group of black women with brooms are sent out to sweep the pitch of water, seemed to demonstrate how little had changed.  Which struck me as ironic when I perceived the whole competition to be a showcase for the "new" South Africa.

(I must say I was also very surprised to see Clint Eastwood - or any Amercian for that matter - make a movie about Rugby Union!)  So it took me a long time to get around to seeing this movie, but I'm very glad I did.

I hadn't realised the film is about the moment Mandela went out the day of the Final in the "Bokke" shirt, the very shirt that would have been proudly worn by his oppressors.  This is what united the nation.  It demonstrated and symbolised how he was able to show forgiveness, and that at once brought black South Africa behind the team they had always cheered against; and brought white South Africa behind their new - until only recently unthinkable - black President.

There are a couple of scenes that really make the movie.  When the Sprinboks are asked by Mandela to train in a series of black townships, and because of Chester - the one black player - bring the children behind them who otherwise would be playing Soccer and failing to relate to the game that was always seen as "white".  Its very moving to see the players teaching them how to play.

There is also the mechanism where the white secret police are assigned to the President's black security detail, and the developing warmth - from frosty mutual-hostility - that develops between them through the support of the national rugby team.  But the small black boy who attempts to eavesdrop on the world cup final over the white policemen's radio - at first  shunned but gradually accepted and by the end embraced enthusiastically. 

It is actually a cracking yarn.

Irony is, the victory is at the expense of New Zealand, which I understand to be the country where, in 1981, a Springbok tour ran into severe anti- aparteid grief, driving home hard the message that the racist state had become a pariah state.   

What the film doesn't discuss however is the fact that most of the world believes that the South Africans either poisoned the Kiwis, or kept them up all night by driving hooting cars around their hotel all night...or both!  

Great movie, great cast (Harrison Ford and Liam Neesen) and a great yarn; as anything that *actually* happened often is.  Not because the plot is so much thicker or more tense, but because your suspension of disbelief is absolute and your imagination runs riot - "what was it *actually* like?" as opposed to “oh that wouldn’t happen!”

About the first soviet nuclear sub sent to perform a missile test to let president Kennedy know that mutually assured destruction was a reality.  Just a year before Cuba. 

Operating on a shoe string though, the under-ready, under- resourced, under equipped sub runs into problems and it all goes very pear shaped indeed.  Lets face it: nuclear reactor + nuclear weapons + sub-marine + cold war = great potential for very, very pear shaped indeed.

(Kookily, I am guessing but, the film would have been made, or at least scoped, during the sinking of the K-141 Kursk in August 2000.)

It opens with these chilling facts that even for me today seem staggering.  Yet I grew up in this stark political and military scenario.  'The soviets had enough missiles to destroy the world two times over,' said the opening copy, 'the Americans ten times over. Yet they kept making them.  War was inevitable.  It was just a question of when and who first.'  That was 1961.

By 1983 - by which time Reagan was in the White House talking about the evil empire - I was only just beginning to gain political consciousness and understanding the reality of impending death any minute now, I imagine both nations could destroy the world hundreds of times over.  My father - then in the RAF - was involved in exercises in Scandanavia where opposing sides would fly million dollar jets up and down the border teasing each other, provoking each other, tempting each other.

So many people wanted war.  It is so lucky it was avoided.  (Gives us hope !)  But how much money was wasted?  And were either really wrong?  Both were flawed; both views had virtues.  There's a scene where the party Commisar lectured the crew of the sub with images of American life in the early 1960s, the cars, the appliances etc. Then the civil rights riots and the poverty.  America is still like that.  Free for the middle class, the successful, the affluent.  Not so free for the disadvantaged, the African Americans, the poor, etc. 

Meanwhile at least communism was in theory aligned to protect the poor, to ensure wealth was distributed more equally, to cater for the society instead of the individual.  I am sure were it not forced to invest so much money in protecting itself from an aggressive capitalist alliance, it might have achieved more - for humanty's benefit.  However, I am not that naive of course:  'more equal for some than for others' as in Animal Farm?

And in those 45 years, how much money was wasted in the arms race.  Where would the world be today if both sides had just focussed on their own social inequities instead of trying to reduce the other side to its knees.  Perhaps the problems of each side would have been solved if only the two sides could have pursued a live-and-let-live policy.

I know. Silly.

Interestingly - and without going into detail - faced with the choice, the crew of the K-19 chose saving the world over saving their country.  If only we were all more inclusive.

This blog passed a few landmarks in the last couple of days, so I thought it was worth marking them - with a blog post!  It was twelve months ago this week that I honoured a new year's resolution and opened my Posterous account and began blogging. 

I had had a few attempts before but this one seems to have taken, with more than 70 posts in that time, which is more than one a week.

Just yesterday it passed 12,000 unique views.  Actual hits (the same person visiting many posts) has become impossible now to measure just how many hits that is after 60 posts (I have to do that manually by adding up the hits on each post) but all are now in triple figures and some are as many as one or two  thousand.  In the last few days, two posts even passed the 3,000 mark (this one and this one - both of which about the recent Australian Federal Election).

I'm trying to illustrate the power of blogging.  I don't have an advertising budget, i haven't taken out bill boards or pages in the newspaper.  This traffic is only the combination of social networking (Twitter and Facebook) and the wonders of SEO or search engine optimization (otherwise known as Google juice). As a communications professional, I've become very interested in this.  Dont get me wrong, I'm mainly doing this because I *love* writing.  But it's been very interesting watching the machinery evolve.  Early on, if I didn't promote a post on a social network, it would accrue almost no hits at all.  However, just the other day, one post accrued only slightly less than quite normal traffic but without any network promotion at all.  I just posted it.    While my analytics are very basic, I cannot tell where much of the traffic is coming from.  I must assume the real magic here is the tags.  I have noticed for instance, anything with the tag "Obama" can go nuts!  Also, generous mentions by bloggers commanding far larger audiences - such as Kate Carruthers - goes a long way (thanks Kate!).

As well as the sheer love of writing, and a curiosity about the medium, a key driver for setting this up was an understanding that it is a very good form of mental self-investment - akin to painting (the recommendation of the Seventh Habit of Highly effective people - sharpening the saw).  I have derived tremendous satisfaction and enjoyment from the process and would recommend it to anyyone.  However, I would say that very few of the posts have been as cathartic and rewarding as one of the very first I wrote, a year ago tomorrow, so I thought it deserved another plug as its traffic levels are sadly meagre by comparison to it's subsequent fellows.

In the year ahead I'd like to do more kooky posts like this one; and write more movie reviews like this one

If you have been reading, thanks very much for stopping by - I *really* appreciate every visit - and I hope you continue to do so:-)