Guardians Of The Galaxy

Of all the Marvel Studios films so far, Guardians Of The Galaxy was the one I was originally most dubious about. A bunch of Z-List characters, bearing little resemblance to the Guardians I remembered from the comics of the 1970s, in a mega-budget movie by a director known for small-scale, Earthbound comedies? It didn't sound good. But as advance word and trailers began to appear I started to think this could either be one of the best films of the year or a big, steaming pile of Bantha droppings. So, last weekend James and I dragged Sarah along to see "that stupid film with that hedgehog" ( her words ) to make up our own minds...

GoTG is the story of Earthman Peter Jason Quill, rudely snatched as a boy from his home planet by a gang of galactic scavengers, who then becomes the outlaw known ( mostly by himself ) as Star-Lord. After stealing the film's intergalactic McGuffin, the Orb, Quill finds himself the target of fanatic Ronan The Accuser and falls in with a gang of homicidal outer space misfits who, against their better judgement, wind up saving the galaxy. For the half-dozen or so people in the world who don't know, these misfits are Gamora ( sexy assassin out for revenge ), Drax ( psychotic bruiser also out for revenge ), Rocket ( a raccoon-like alien not out for revenge, just here for the violence ) and Groot ( a talking tree ). Yes, a talking tree...

I have to say I really enjoyed this film. ( And, yes, James and even Sarah did too. ) It's tongue-in-cheek, action-packed and colourful, with a fine sense of its own ridiculousness, some great dialogue and a knowingly cheesy soundtrack of '70s and '80s pop. Director James Gunn does an impressive job of introducing viewers to this crazy, complex universe with its multitude of worlds and civilisations and he absolutely nails the huge space-action set-pieces. All the Guardians prove to be more layered and interesting characters than at first glance, with even the raccoon displaying moments of pathos beneath his cynical, wiseguy exterior. ( I know I'm talking about a collection of pixels as if they're a real character  -  and a frickin' raccoon, at that  -  but the realisation of Rocket is fantastically convincing, with some hilarious voice acting from Bradley Cooper. )
If I was picky I'd say there are a few plot-holes large enough to fly a spaceship through and Karen Gillan is wasted as one-note badgirl Nebula... but the good stuff outweighs the bad for me. There are starships designed by the great Chris Foss, fan-pleasing hints at a larger Marvel Universe ( Thanos, the Celestials and a certain wise-cracking fowl all have cameos ), jokes about Kevin Bacon, and Zoe Saldana kicking arse. What more could you want? Oh, and Chris ( Star-Lord ) Pratt is going to be a big star...

If those birds won't come to me, I'll have to go to them...

We will remember them

"The lamps are going out all over Europe. We shall not see them lit again in our lifetime."
Sir Edward Grey, British Foreign Secretary, 1914

Last night, along with thousands of other households across the UK, we switched off all our lights and lit a single candle to commemorate the centenary of the outbreak of World War One. A televised remembrance service from Westminster Abbey saw actors, soldiers and members of the church movingly read poems and letters about and from that terrible time 100 years ago. There has been much debate recently about the justification of the so-called Great War. Was it a complete disaster that slaughtered a generation for no good reason ( the "Blackadder" argument ) or was it a necessary evil that ensured European democracy? Whichever side of the debate you favour it's important that the unprecedented and unimaginable sacrifice of ordinary men and women, whether military or civilians, should never be forgotten.
We will remember them...

Recent Gigs Part Two: The Dandy Warhols and more

Portland, Oregon's finest psych-pop hipsters The Dandy Warhols played Bristol recently, for the first time in years, so I headed down to the home of Banksy and trip hop with fellow culture lovers Glenn and Caz. The venue was the Anson Rooms, a part of Bristol University. I hadn't been there since the late '90s when I'd seen Terrorvision play one of the maddest, hottest gigs ever, so it was interesting to revisit the place. Quite a smart venue, probably only about 400 or 500 capacity, with a well-staffed and accessible bar. We got there just in time to catch the start of the Dark Horses' set. They play a moody, Gothy art-punk, with one song being a dead ringer for the Velvets' Venus In Furs. Derivative, then, but full of potential.

The Dandy's then came on to polite applause from a fairly reserved crowd  -  set list above. This was the fifth time I'd seen the band and, while not the best performance I'd seen from them, they played a fine set with their usual impeccable musicianship and laidback, charismatic cool. The audience was a mixture of hardcore Dandy's fans and younger student types who mostly came alive when the hits were played. Glenn ( world's no.1 Dandy's fan ) and I of course went down the front to get the full effect of the band's dream-pop soundscapes... and to get a good look at the lovely Zia... ( Shallow? Moi? )


As ever a couple of songs outstayed their welcome but crowd singalong favourites like Boys Better, Horse Pills, Bohemian Like You and Get Off had us all jumping up and down, and the peerless Godless was the expected highlight with mass audience vocals replacing the absent horn section of the recorded version. Although slightly marred by a few sound problems and a lack of encore it was a fun gig with some great company. "Super cool / Dandy's Rule OK..."

A few months back ( when my melted PC meant very little blogging was going on ) Sarah and I went to the good ol' Gloucester Guildhall to see The Selecter. I'd seen them before, of course, but Sarah hadn't and didn't really remember them from back in the day. But it only took a couple of songs for her to get into the groove  -  I defy anyone with a pulse not to move their feet to The Selecter's red hot ska beat! They played a great, sweaty set with all the old faves present and correct: Missing Words, On My Radio, Three Minute Hero all as fresh and invigorating as jumping naked into a mountain stream... I imagine. Fine support came from legendary Bristol reggae band Talisman, bringing some warm Caribbean sounds to a chilly Gloucester.

On the local bands front I've been to a few gigs by old favourites Demob and Noise Agents and also a new set of old mates from various bands under the guise of Borrowed Time. Here they are looking dead hard on the mean streets of, er, Cheltenham. Borrowed Time play a superior form of Street Punk ( circa 1982 ) with some rough 'n' ready but tuneful songs which would have easily stood up against the likes of Chron Gen, Infa Riot or Anti Pasti back in the day. For a new ( if not young ) band they are doing very well and will be playing at the Rebellion Festival in Blackpool next week... along with The Selecter. ( I don't just throw this blog together you know. OK, I do... )

And finally Esther, I saw Stroud disco-Punks ( heh heh! ) Chinese Burn for the umpteenth time the other week at Gloucester's grimy Lower George pub. A cracking gig from the Burners with loads of good friends in attendance. I even dragged Sarah along. This gig was on the day after the last of the original Ramones, Tommy Erdelyi, had passed away so it ended with an ( ahem! ) all-star cover version of Blitzkrieg Bop. Various members of Chinese Burn, Borrowed Time, Noise Agents and even yours truly all made complete fools of ourselves as a tribute to Tommy Ramone. There's me in the grey Ramones T-shirt, sharing a mic with my mate Cliff. As we used to cover Blitzkrieg Bop back in the Death Planet Commandos days, I tried to persuade ex-DPC guitarist the mighty Mark to join us too but he remained behind to fill half of the frame at the bottom of the photo :-)
Hey ho! Let's go!

Windswept and interesting...?

After my last post comparing me at the age of 15 with James today ( in a Godfather Part II kind of way ) here's another ( completely self-indulgent ) old photo of me. This was taken some time in the mid-'80s on a rainy Blackpool Summer's day ( believe it or not ), with me demonstrating the fine art of adolescent posing. It's grim up North...

A chip off the old block...

All the young punks...
Here's James rockin' a Clash T-shirt and my old electric guitar...



And here's me waaaay back in 1982, clearly enjoying my work on the farm. James is nearly fifteen now and I was fifteen at the time of this photo. The resemblance is quite spooky... although James says it's just the haircut :-)

Recent Gigs Part One: The Sunshine Underground and The Xcerts

I haven't been to too many gigs this year for one reason or another ( mostly financial ) but here's part one of a quick roundup of some recent rock 'n' roll rebels and ragamuffins...
Last Saturday was supposed to see the third annual Summer Sound Festival in Gloucester Park. Last year's event was a lot of fun with Kids In Glass Houses and Chloe Howl tearing up the stage with mainstream metal and quirky pop. Unfortunately this year's festival was cancelled at short notice after a massive thunderstorm and torrential rain had hit the Shire the night before and then rumbled on well into Saturday morning. The council were worried about the stage being hit by lightning and so literally pulled the plug on the event. ( This may sound like overkill but a house about a mile from me had been struck by lightning the night before, so they weren't taking any chances. ) Luckily the gig was moved to the good ol' Guildhall so the more dedicated gig-goers could still see some bands, albeit in a totally different setting. I dragged Sarah along and we met up with our friends Glenn and Sam just in time to catch a couple of bands.

First up were The Xcerts, a frighteningly young Scottish indie band, somewhat reminiscent of The Kooks, but with the Caledonian burr of Biffy Clyro. Their heartfelt songs of love and loss went down a storm ( no pun intended ) with the mainly teenage audience... and with us, so much so that I bought their album In The Cold Wind We Smile. It's actually five years old and they have a new album on the way. One to listen out for.

Next on were The Sunshine Underground ( frontman Craig pictured above ), another band new to me but who have actually been around for a few years and were touring their third, self-titled album.A very groovy, very danceable sound: guitar-based but bursting with Technicolor synths and effects. Similar to Foals or Everything Everything but also in the tradition of the Happy Mondays or EMF  -  indie music you can move to. Oh, and they're named after a Chemical Brothers song. Cool. Definitely one of the best bands I've seen in ages  -  I'll have to catch them again, possibly at the Fleece in the Autumn.
We didn't stay for headliners Little Comets because Sarah had to be up early for work the next day
( Sunday! ) and the gig was already running late due to meteorological shenanigans. Even so, it had been a fun ( and free! ) night out in our favourite venue. Can't be bad.

Soundtrack: Don't Stop, Finally We Arrive by The Sunshine Underground
                   Aberdeen 1987 by The Xcerts

The Rampaging Return Of The Berserk Blogger

Yep, I'm back. Did you notice I'd been away? ( I'm sure I've said this before. ) After various PC and internet service provider problems I've finally managed to regain control of this 'ere blog ( no thanks to Virgin Media ) and should hopefully resume posting shortly. It's been a long time and  -  you know what?  -  I've missed The Glass Walking-Stick... probably more than I would have expected. Anyway, onwards and upwards...

( Oh, and despite what Megaton Man says above I've no intention of quitting... )
cerebus660

Rik Mayall

It's been a day since the news broke of comic genius Rik Mayall's untimely death and I still can't really believe it. He always seemed so full of life and energy, having already cheated death once before, following a horrific quad-bike crash, so surely he deserved a long and outrageous dotage.... but obviously that was not to be. I was at work yesterday afternoon when I received the following text from Sarah: "OMG Rick Mayall died today. We are so upset. James just saw it online." I thought it might have been yet another of those ridiculous internet hoaxes but sadly it wasn't. Only the previous night we had all been sitting in the kitchen, laughing like drains, as Sophie played You Tube clips of Mayall's greatest Young Ones moments on her phone...



The Young Ones was the TV show that made Mayall's name. I had already seen him play "investigative journalist" Kevin Turvey as well as one half of the Dangerous Brothers with long-standing comedy partner Ade Edmondson but it was his portrayal of Rick ( with a silent "P" )  -  the Cliff Richard-loving, would-be anarchist and People's Poet  -  that really kicked off his career. Vain, insecure, pretentious and acne-ridden, Rick was a brilliant comedy creation in a sitcom that was truly ground-breaking in an era of such bland, anodyne fare as Terry & June and Sorry. The Young Ones was, appropriately for the fag-end of the Cold War, a comedic nuclear blast, unlike anything else. Surreal, anarchic, political, scatological and deeply, deeply funny, it was Punk TV by any other name. And for a generation of teenagers it was uniquely ours  -  everybody watched it, everybody had an opinion on it, and everybody would be quoting lines from each episode in the playground the next morning. And the best thing was that nobody over thirty liked it. Result...



By the time I was first going out with Sarah ( late '80s / early '90s ) Rik Mayall had moved on to such shows as The New Statesman and two scene-stealing appearances as Flashheart in Blackadder as well as his attempt at "going Hollywood" with Drop Dead Fred, before again teaming up with Ade Edmondson in Bottom. Probably the most appropriately-named sitcom ever, Bottom saw Mayall and Edmondson play Richie and Eddie, the two most pathetic, witless and unpleasant characters imaginable, trapped in a violent hate / hate relationship, living in squalor and misery with only Emmerdale Farm on TV to bring them any comfort. And it was the funniest thing ever. Ludicrous situations, extreme slapstick violence, Mayall sweating like a madman, Edmondson guzzling Scotch, more violence, creative swearing, even more violence... Bottom was sublime. So, of course, the BBC cancelled it after three seasons. Luckily, Mayall and Edmondson revived the show on stage and Sarah and I were lucky enough to see them perform in Hereford around the turn of the Millennium. A hilarious show, featuring all the expected lunacy and slapstick with unparalleled invective, Bottom Live was one of the funniest things I've ever seen... although Richie's underpants were truly terrifying...



And now he's gone, underpants and all. And I still can't believe it.
So let's remember a true comedy icon and raise a glass to Sir Richard (P)Rick Richard, The Bombardier, himself. Hurrah! Bang on!

70 years ago: D-Day

"British soldiers joke as they read a tourist guide about France aboard a landing craft on June 6th 1944 while Allied forces storm Normandy beaches" - The Telegraph

It's sometimes easy to forget at this huge distance from the events that the men who took part in the largest air and sea invasion in history, and so secured our freedom, were just ordinary people caught up in extraordinary  -  and terrifying  -  events. Here's to them for all their sacrifices and bravery. We owe a debt that can never be repaid but must never be forgotten.

Coming soon ( in which the blogger tries to convince people that he will actually get off his arse and do some blogging in the near future )

A mutant movie review

Reading comics the hard way

A box of Beatles

Movies 1973

New comics ( well, relatively new... )

Reading update

Watch this space... and hopefully this space will soon be filled with the levels of irrelevance and self-indulgence you've come to expect ( Dear Reader ) from The Glass Walking-Stick...

You lookin' at me?

Karen Gillan IS Nebula

That's an interesting look for the former Girl Who Waited as Karen Gillan takes on the role of cosmic super villain Nebula in Marvel Studios' forthcoming Guardians Of The Galaxy movie. The more I see of this movie the more I'm looking forward to it. They're not the Guardians that I remember from the 1970s comics but the style and tone of the new trailer makes the film look like a lot of fun. Even Rocket Raccoon seems promising. But I do miss the ginger hair...

Karen's, that is... not Rocket's...

Recent movies: heroes and hotels

Last night James and I finally got round to seeing The Amazing Spider-Man 2, the latest chapter in Peter Parker's arachnid-augmented movie saga. A strong follow-up to Marc Webb's origin / reboot from 2012, the film is not without its problems but is a good, fun popcorn movie in an age when superheroes on the big screen can be a bit too grim 'n' gritty for my tastes.

 ( Beware! Spidery spoilers ahead! ) The weakest links here are the villains, yet again: Jamie Foxx's Electro has some impressive moments ( which are mostly special effects-based, to be honest ) but is weakly-motivated and Foxx is desperately unconvincing as nerdish alter ego Max Dillon; while Dane DeHaan battles against a terrible haircut to portray a convincingly anguished and unbalanced Harry Osborn but a mediocre Green Goblin. The best villain in a Spidey movie is still Alfred Molina's Doctor Octopus. Must try harder, Mister Webb. There is also a definite drag factor about half way through as the story gets bogged down with various colliding plot-lines. But what about the good stuff I hear you ask? ( OK, Dear Reader, it's not really you I can hear... just the voices in my head. ) Well...

This is, to my mind, the first of the Spidey films to truly capture the essence and the look of the web-slinger as I've always known him. The costume itself is practically perfect: far truer to Steve Ditko's original design than the overly-fussily detailed version in the last movie  -  although still no webs under the armpits?? The script accentuates Spidey's wise-cracking and cockiness, contrasting with Peter's angst, and Webb gifts us with some dizzying shots of the joie de vivre of our hero swinging through New York's concrete canyons. The relationship between Andrew Garfield's Peter and the lovely Emma Stone's Gwen Stacey is again at the heart of the story  -  less awkward this time but just as touching, more intense and obviously doomed. ( As we all suspected, this movie could have been called ASM2: Gwen Dies At The End... ) Quite how the franchise will survive without Emma Stone remains to be seen but I'm sure the film makers will find a way. This second instalment resolves the mystery of Peter's parents and sets up some of the antagonists for the next movie and for the projected Sinister Six film  - there seems to be no stopping the spidery series. 

I'll give this one Three Out Of Five Web-Shooters. Maybe the real Spidey classic is yet to come?

What was I saying about grim 'n' gritty super types? That tag certainly applies to another recent super sequel, Marvel Studios' Captain America: The Winter Soldier. ( As poster shows. ) However, unlike in the Dark Knight or Man Of Steel movies there is a balance between light and dark here that is more reminiscent of old skool Marvel, particularly the Marvel of the 1970s that I grew up with. And this movie really harks back to that time of Nixon, the Cold War and paranoid, political action movies  -  to the point of even featuring the great Robert Redford, star of 1975's Three Days Of The Condor. Chris Evans' Captain America, a man out of time following his 70-year cryogenic nap, finds himself a renegade as the forces of SHIELD are turned against him, while his old army buddy, Bucky Barnes, is revealed to be still alive but now a brainwashed assassin known as The Winter Soldier.

I've always been a sucker for paranoid thrillers, the concept that the world you know is turned upside down and you don't know who you can trust. Maybe because that's the way the world really is? At this very moment, Dear Reader, they are watching you, tracking your every movement, checking your bank account, logging all your disgusting online reading habits... or is that just me...?

Anyway, Cap 2 ( as nobody calls it ) is a breathless thrill ride as our Sentinel Of Liberty battles overwhelming odds to uncover SHIELD's shady secrets ( cough! Hail Hydra! cough! ) and the true identity of the enigmatic Soldier. Chris Evans is again perfect as Cap, as noble and heroic as ever but with a harder, more pragmatic approach to a more complex world... but still fighting at the last to save his old sidekick from his homicidal programming. With fine support from Scarlett Johansen, Howard Mackie, Sebastian Stan and Mr. Redford himself, along with taut plotting and an intelligent script, this movie again shows why Marvel Studios are currently making the best superhero films out there. ( And next up is unknown quantity The Guardians Of The Galaxy. Should be... interesting. )

Four Out Of Five Battered ( but not broken ) Shields

As a complete contrast, before those two mega-budget multiplex movies, James and I went to the good ol' Gloucester Guildhall to see The Grand Budapest Hotel, the latest offering from indie wunderkind Wes Anderson. The Guildhall has finally, after much debate and fund-raising, bought a digital film projector so modern movies can be shown in their full glory. And what a glorious film TGBP is!

It's a comedy, a heist movie, a prison movie, a romance, a look back at a dying ( if fictional ) age... it's... well, it's a Wes Anderson movie with all that implies. Visually dazzling, controlled yet often erupting into anarchy, laugh-out-loud funny yet achingly melancholic, it's as much a beautifully-made confection as the fancy pastries that feature so much in the story... as seen in the gift-wrapped box above. Many of Anderson's acting troupe make an appearance  -  Jason Schwartzman, Adrien Brody, Tilda Swinton, Bill Murray ( of course )  - and at the heart of the whole fairy tale is a wonderful performance from Ralph Fiennes as Gustave H, the louche, womanising, impeccably-mannered concierge of the Grand Budapest Hotel. Who knew old Voldemort could do comedy so well? Fiennes is a revelation in the part, whether having affairs with rich old ladies, micro-managing his hotel or organising a prison break. Anderson's films are an acquired taste for sure  -  mannered, whimsical, designed to the nth degree  -  but it's a taste I love, so I'm giving this one

Four 1/2 Out Of Five Hotel Keys

Soundtrack: Room On Fire by The Strokes

I'm still alive...

...but still having computer problems. Hopefully normal service ( whatever that is ) will resume shortly. Until then hang loose, keep the faith, don't give up hope, be kind to each other, be kind to yourself, don't eat yellow snow etc. etc.