Tag Archives: Errol Flynn Filmhouse

Royal and Derngate Theatres Northampton – Happy 10th Anniversary!

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It’s been ten years since our spiritual home at the Royal and Derngate Theatres re-opened after their redevelopment, and the Derngate auditorium was born. In those dark days of 2006 we were strangers to Northampton, gentle reader, so I have no recall of the impact of the new complex at the time – although I bet it was major.

Yesterday they had a bit of a party to celebrate ten years of achievements – artistic, educational, community-based; and to look forward to the next five years with some special projects they’ve got up their sleeves – more of which shortly. But it was really enjoyable to wallow in the memories of some of those great Made in Northampton productions that Mrs Chrisparkle and I have been privileged to see over the last seven years that we’ve lived locally: the Ayckbourn season (before I started blogging); the brilliant early Tennessee Williams and Eugene O’Neill plays Spring Storm and Beyond the Horizon; the Broadway-transferring End of the Rainbow; the haunting Duchess of Malfi; the hilarious Diary of a Nobody; the stunning Bacchae; the uproarious Mr Whatnot (so funny that we had to book to see it again the following day); the incredible impact of The Body of an American; the gripping King John; the challenging Brave New World; and dozens more besides. The associations with Spymonkey,the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, Richard Alston Dance Company. The annual Malcolm Arnold festival. Great musical productions like Oklahoma and Fiddler on the Roof. All the comedians. All the Screaming Blue Murders. The brash and colourful Derngate pantos and the enchanting Christmas plays in the Royal. On top of all this, there’s the creation of the Errol Flynn Filmhouse, No 1 in Northamptonshire’s Fun and Games choice on Trip Advisor. I could go on but it would be self-indulgent.

As you would expect, they’re not sitting on their laurels (although they’re continuing to accumulate them at quite a rate.) Plans for the next five years include creating a brand new cinema complex in Daventry – learning from the whole Errol Flynn experience (which is the most comfortable and grown-up cinema I’ve ever experienced; a new school for Northampton which places cultural and creative learning at its heart; and, (and this one excites me the most) being part of a consortium of greats to commission new music theatre, ranging from opera to musicals, to be presented in a festival format using a brand new portable venue called The Mix, which can seat between 200-400 and can pop up in situ in a matter of 48 hours. I’m very excited to see how that evolves. I’m reassured to know that they’re not losing sight of their core activity either and the new programme for next year’s Made in Northampton gems will be coming out in a few weeks – can’t wait.

To everyone who works at the Royal and Derngate, you play a part in creating the most welcoming and invigorating hub of artistic pursuits and pleasures. We moved into Northampton at the end of 2008 but I don’t think we’ll ever be able to move out – I just can’t imagine not having the R&D on my doorstep. You’ve spoiled us, Mr Ambassador! Royal and Derngate Theatres – so good they named it twice. Here’s to the next five years, ten years, and happy ever after.

Review – Café Society, Errol Flynn Filmhouse, Northampton, 19th September 2016

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Here’s the second of two movies in one week because I basically forgot to redeem my final two free visits to the Errol Flynn Filmhouse and I didn’t want to lose them before my “Friends” year ends. The first was The Shallows, not perhaps an obvious choice for us, but exciting to watch and it hugely exceeded our expectations. Again, I’m not sure if Café Society is a film I would have otherwise chosen to see, but it’s been an awfully long time since I’ve seen a Woody Allen film and so this was a good opportunity to put that right.

I was a big admirer of Mr Allen in my youth. As a way-ahead-of-my-time youngster in the 1960s, I loved the trendy glamour of What’s New Pussycat and the trendy slapstick of Casino Royale, which was one of the first films the late Dowager Mrs Chrisparkle took me to see at the cinema. I adored Annie Hall and was moved by Manhattan, enjoyed Zelig and took the young Miss Duncansby – before she became Mrs Chrisparkle – to see Hannah and her Sisters. But I don’t think the young Miss D was anything like as keen on Woody Allen as I was. And consequently I think that might have been the last time I saw one of his films!

It’s a relatively simple and agreeable tale of Bobby, a young Jewish guy, who leaves New York to try to find some kind of fame and fortune in Hollywood, spurred on by the fact that his uncle is a massively successful agent, on whose coat-tails he hopes to ride for a bit, to get some contacts and make a life for himself. The uncle’s secretary, Vonnie, is tasked with the job of showing Bobby around the town, and, being a Woody Allen film, Bobby falls in love with her. However – naturally – she has a boyfriend. Relationships come and go – the secretary falls in and out of love with both Bobby and her boyfriend, and, several years later, both Bobby and Vonnie are married – although not to each other – and an uncertain ending leaves you hanging as to how things might get resolved – or not.

It’s a very enjoyable film, although, despite the relationship difficulties depicted and the personal sadness experienced by some of the characters, not remotely challenging. I thought more could have been made of the difference between Bobby’s tough working class NYC home life and the glitzy glamour of his Californian Lifestyle, but I guess that wasn’t the film Woody Allen wanted to make. Cinematographically, it looks lush throughout, although a tendency to over-sepia-ise some of the scenes (presumably to help with setting the 1930s vibe) got on my nerves a bit once I had identified why everything was appearing so orangey. There’s a very classy jazz soundtrack – primarily, but not exclusively, piano – which really nails the vibe, even though it was a little repetitive for Mrs C’s taste.

It’s 1930s New York, so there has to be a gangster – and he comes in the form of Bobby’s brother Ben, ostensibly a decent family man but with a predilection for handing out summary executions with comedic brevity. Bobby’s background family are very credibly realised, with a fine pair of performances from Jeannie Berlin and Ken Stott as his rather downbeat parents – think Caroline Aherne’s The Royle Family set in the Bronx. And there’s a hilarious scene early on with a beautiful cameo performance by Anna Camp as the willing but rather unprofessional prostitute Candy, that gives you an excellent insight into both the irascible side of Bobby’s character and the shallowness of the Californian way of life.

But the film succeeds most in telling the general awkwardness of the ménage à trois that is Bobby, Vonnie and her boyfriend, “Doug”. (He’s not really Doug.) Kristen Stewart gives a really thoughtful performance as Vonnie, totally Torn Between Two Lovers as the old song goes, trapping her whirlwind of emotions beneath a calm façade that never takes anything for granted or even insists on being treated fairly. Steve Carell gives a good performance as the spoilt and over-successful agent Phil, flourishing under professional pressure but falling apart when it comes to personal relationships. And Jesse Eisenberg is excellent as the gently neurotic, sexually confident and eventually nightclub owning Bobby, in a role that – having missed out on seeing Woody Allen’s gradual development throughout the decades – I see as being precisely the same kind of role that Mr Allen would have written for himself back in the 70s. Talking of which, I only realised afterwards, when doing a little research before writing this post, that Woody Allen is the narrator of the film. I certainly didn’t recognise his voice. But he does a good job, with some nice levels of understatement and comic timing.

This isn’t a film that’s going to shake the world, but as a gentle and attractive snapshot of America in the 30s, it’s 96 minutes spent in the company of entertaining characters in a privileged environment that balances fantasy with reality – and comes down on the side of a comfy cushion somewhere between the two.

Review – The Shallows, Errol Flynn Filmhouse, Northampton, 15th September 2016

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One of the important aspects of taking out a loyalty membership at a theatre, or in this case cinema, gentle reader, is to make sure that you get your stake back in benefits, freebies, early bookings and what-have-yous. For some reason – maybe because I love live entertainment so much – it’s very easy for me to get out of the habit of going to the cinema. But I was aware it had been a while since our last visit to the Errol Flynn Filmhouse (a long while!) so I enquired when my membership was up. Two weeks’ time – and still two free films to go and see! I couldn’t let them go to waste, so I desperately scoured the listings to find a couple of films that a) were on at a convenient time and b) didn’t look too awful. And the first of those was The Shallows.

I didn’t know much about the film in advance to be honest. I knew it wasn’t a particularly long film, and that it featured beaches and the sea. Actually, I thought it was a French language film. I gathered there was to be some tension and suspense. Maybe someone would get murdered by personne or personnes unknown and get washed up on the beach. Wrong.

Here’s an idea about the plot – although I don’t want to give too much away if you haven’t seen it. Jaws meets Gravity. Let me explain: Nancy is a freewheeling sort of girl, with some slightly blurred backstory where she is finding her own way to grieve at the loss of her mother by taking a lone expedition to a beach in Mexico which is known to her family as “Mom’s beach” and to the rest of the world as… the beach with no name. In fact, whenever Nancy asks anyone the name of the beach they refuse to tell her, in a mysteriously doom-laden portentous manner. Honestly; she spends the early part of the film constantly on her smartphone, so why didn’t she just zoom in on Google Maps? I have to say that whole “what’s the name of the beach” element to the film really got on my wick.

However, once she’s there, she quickly nips out of her clothes and dons her surfing togs, because she’s nothing if not an adventure girl. There are a few lingering shots as she’s peeling off the layers and nestling into her surfboard that tread ever-so-slightly in the direction of gentle soft porn; but, to be fair, those sequences give you an impression of extreme closeness to the action (which is vital for the film to work). And, anyway, Blake Lively has a very nice bum. There’s a couple of lads out surfing as well; they suggest a threesome (not that kind of threesome) but our Nancy is more of the reflective, I Want To Be Alone, type, so she keeps her distance. And starts surfing. And I think that’s all I need to say about the plot without spoiling it for you. However, if you remember the most menacing character in Jaws and the nature of the story in Gravity – I’m sure you’ve already put two and two together and come up with a bloodstained wetsuit. The way Nancy’s plight is resolved is – shall we say – interesting; I guess that as she has been extremely unlucky with that last wave of the day, it’s only fair that she gets the jammiest, luckiest break at the end. Let’s just say that if insurers don’t pay out on Acts of God, the family of that shark are going to be financially bereft after the final credits.

It’s actually a really well put-together film. The tension starts very gradually at first; you sense something horrible is going to happen – but it doesn’t – so you allow yourself to be lulled into a false sense of security. Nancy’s reliance on her mobile phone is entertainingly and inventively captured by our seeing her phone screen just as clearly as she would see it; in fact, it monopolises one’s attention at first, just as mobiles tend to in real life. When Carlos tells her off for not looking at the beautiful scenery, it’s a reprimand to which we can all relate. Flavio Labiano’s cinematography is absolutely captivating; the action surfing scenes where the characters are caught right up in the waves are breathtakingly exciting and give you some insight into how exhilarating doing it for real must be (I’ve never surfed, nor am I ever likely to!) There are some slightly gory moments which make you cringe and look away from the screen; but a lesser film would have indulged much more in the blood and guts of the thing and less on the mental anguish of our heroine, which is a damn sight more interesting.

And Blake Lively is brilliant as Nancy; she’s hardly ever out of shot in the whole film and she really lives the role. You never for a second think of this as an acting performance; she’s there, experiencing and reacting to the whole terrifying scenario. If I were her, I’d never get in the water ever again.

Mrs Chrisparkle and I spent many of the film’s 86 minutes wincing at the screen through our fingers. As we were all leaving the cinema, the two girls to our right said they couldn’t wait to get home for a nice cuppa tea. Certainly much of the action is the stuff of nightmares, and to watch the film is physically exhausting; but when you look back you realise that it’s actually a tight and taut, well-paced thriller that keeps you on the edge of your seat and desperate for a happy ending. All that and teach-yourself suturing!

Review – Suffragette, Errol Flynn Filmhouse, Northampton, 2nd November 2015

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One of the subjects that could really get the Dowager Mrs Chrisparkle’s passion aroused was the Suffragette movement. She was proud that universal suffrage was introduced in the UK during her lifetime – she was 7 years old in 1928, when women finally received the same voting rights as men – and she would love to tell tales of knowing of women who had chained themselves to railings, and had huge admiration for Emily Davison, who threw herself under the King’s horse at the Derby. She would have been riveted by the film Suffragette, as it starkly shows the struggles of those women to get their voices heard by committing acts of civil disobedience.

Part fact, part fiction, it follows the life of Maud Watts, married with one son, working hard, long hours in a laundry sweatshop, with a bullying, advantage-taking boss, and who almost accidentally gets caught up in the suffragette movement as she works alongside some of the more active members. As she starts attending meetings, she offers to accompany her colleague Violet Miller to the House of Commons, who was to address a committee of MPs, including the Prime Minister himself, Lloyd George. But circumstances dictate that it is Maud who must give her own account of why women should get the vote – and when cabinet nevertheless decides against extending the vote, her sense of resentment increases and she becomes much more personally involved. Maud, Violet, the pharmacist Edith Ellyn, all fictional characters, as well as the real life Emily Davison, all exert what influence they can to change the law, resulting in trials, imprisonment, verbal and physical abuse from both inside and outside the penal institutions, hunger strikes, and forced feeding. Maud additionally has her private life torn apart by her actions, and the film culminates in Emily Davison’s ultimate sacrifice.

It’s a very strong and moving film; it’s also very dark, both literally and metaphorically. There are some scenes of brutality against the women which make difficult viewing, but as Mrs Chrisparkle pointed out, they are fully relevant to the film, and today’s audience shouldn’t be blind to the physical attacks the suffragettes incurred. Personally, I was very surprised at the level of antipathy and hostility expressed towards the suffragettes by the average man (and plenty of average women) on the street. You wouldn’t have thought that everyone was against them – although that’s certainly how it seems in this film. Considering that after Emily Davison’s death they announced that thousands would be lining the streets for her funeral procession,you might have expect someone to have said to Sonny Watts, “she’s alright, your wife” and not just “your wife’s a disgrace”. But then, as once again the wise Mrs C pointed out, it sometimes takes something really visible and tangible to change public opinion, like the picture of the little Syrian boy washed up on the shore seemed to wake people up to the current refugee crisis, even though he was just one of thousands. So no doubt the Derby tragedy alerted many more people to the personal sacrifices women were making.

The film garners some excellent performances all round. Carey Mulligan is brillliant as Maud, growing in self-confidence throughout the film but desperate in her domestic sadness and in her battle to keep in contact with her son. Helena Bonham-Carter – herself the great-granddaughter of Asquith, the Prime Minister during much of the time when the suffragettes were campaigning – is excellent as the hard-working Edith Ellyn, hosting meetings, and fearlessly getting her hands dirty at every opportunity. Anne-Marie Duff plays Violet, a defiantly committed trouble-maker, relishing every opportunity to make a difference. There’s a very enjoyable and rather inspiring brief performance by Meryl Streep as Emmeline Pankhurst, appearing out of nowhere to deliver a stirring public speech and then disappearing back from whenceshe came. Ben Whishaw is very good as the under-communicative Sonny, Maud’s husband; you can almost see in his controlling eyes the extent to which he will allow his wife to agitate, and the point at which she will have gone too far. There’s a strong, quiet performance by Brendan Gleeson as the Police Inspector Steed, diligent in enforcing the law but with an understated sense of the bigger picture; and a ruthless cameo by Samuel West as the reactionary politician Benedict, harbouring a draconian resentment against equality.

Dramatic, powerful, dark; a very intense film that reminds us of the sacrifices made by others so that we can have the vote today. Interestingly, it is the first film ever to have scenes actually shot in the Houses of Parliament, which emphasises the still relevant importance of what the suffragettes achieved. Next time you can’t be bothered to turn up to the polling station, just remember what Maud went through.

Review – Gemma Bovery, Errol Flynn Filmhouse, Northampton, 21st September 2015

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It had been several months since we’d seen a film – for me it’s a very easy habit to get out of – so in an attempt to kickstart some moviegoing, I booked to see Gemma Bovery. We’d seen its star Gemma Arterton in Made in Dagenham last Christmas and she was ace – and our paths have crossed(-ish) more recently, more about which I cannot possibly say at this stage. (Although I will later.) So I was keen to see her on the movie screen as I understand that is where she has gained her reputation as a fine actress – although I’ve not actually seen her in a film before. Not only that but neither Mrs Chrisparkle nor I have read, nor seen any kind of adaptation of Flaubert’s Madame Bovery, so we came to this film with no particular expectations or preconceptions. If you haven’t seen the film, and don’t want to know what happens, may I suggest you stop reading and please feel free to return once you’ve seen it.

In case you didn’t know, Gemma Bovery (the film) is based on Posy Simmonds’ graphic novel of the same name, about an English couple who move to France and live an existence that parallels Flaubert’s originals. The rather fetching Gemma attracts the jealous attention of neighbour baker, the Flaubert-obsessed Joubert, who gets more and more furious as he spies on her to discover she is having an affair with young local landowner Hervé de Bressigny. Then, when he dumps her, her libido now re-awakened, she also has it off with her ex-boyfriend Patrick, who, coincidentally, just happens to be staying with nearby friends. This spot of how’s your father is also witnessed by the feverish Joubert, whilst husband Charlie, who had at first been oblivious to her wayward behaviour, has stomped back to London in a huff. Gemma wants Charlie back, but, as she is rejecting Patrick for a second time, she chokes on some freshly baked bread that Joubert has given her; and while Patrick is trying to save her, Charlie arrives, beats him up and Gemma croaks.

If you feel that resumé of the story didn’t take the plot details sufficiently seriously, then I apologise. But, really, I found it unutterably silly. When I realised that Gemma was going to die choking on that bit of bread, my thoughts turned to Benny Hill’s 1972 epic recording, Ernie: “A stale pork pie caught him in the eye and Ernie bit the dust.” Death by Gastronomie. My guess is that the ending was meant to be ironic and moving; I found it lamentable, and not in a good way.

But I’m starting at the end. Let’s go back to the beginning, and the film as a whole. It’s not a bad film; certainly not a good one, but it’s not that woeful either. It’s well acted, well cast, it’s filmed with a nice feeling for French/English liaisons and it has a few moments of brilliance that are very funny and charming. However, it does commit the cardinal sin of being, overall, dull and boring. There isn’t enough of a narrative drive about it; Pascal Bonitzer and Anne Fontaine’s screenplay never soars. As Mrs C pointed out, if the extraordinary thing about Flaubert’s Mme Bovery is that nothing much happens, then this film is solidly representative of its inspirational muse. It has no change of pace, no urgency, no energy. It’s all very attractive and superficial but you don’t feel as though you get deep down into any of the characters – except perhaps for M. Joubert, and that’s probably down to Fabrice Luchini’s extraordinarily expressive face. As Ronan Keating might have put it, M. Luchini says it best when he says nothing at all.

The film is a joint French/British venture and, as a result, the conversations are in both French and English, with appropriate subtitling for the bits we don’t understand. Whether it’s intentional or not, I feel that is one of the strengths of the film; you hear the characters struggling to speak in a language which is not their own, or engaging fluently when in their own tongue. It emphasises the “fish-out-of-water” aspect of the characters, like Gemma and Charlie in a foreign country, or Joubert on the edges of a forbidden relationship. Of course, it also gives rise to some gentle comedy, which comes as a welcome relief.

Some of the minor plots and characters end up being the most rewarding to watch; Joubert’s bossy wife and doltish son have some of the best lines and create a very real sense of what Joubert’s home life is really like. The ghastly Rankin couple, with their mock-enthusiasm and refined condescension, expressed with their hideously posh accents, also suggest there might be a more dynamic story lurking beneath their otherwise perfect exteriors. And there’s the problem – in comparison, Gemma, Charlie, Hervé and Patrick are all pretty dull people.

It’s true, Gemma Arterton does put in a charming performance as her namesake. There’s a lot of pouting and posing, and leisurely wearing of summer dresses; so many of her scenes could just segue into a Flake advert. I’m not sure there’s that much evidence of Gemma Bovery’s motivation at any one point – just a general sense of a confined and reserved woman turning, in time, into a mischievous one. Jason Flemyng, Niels Schneider and Mel Raido as the three men in her life are virtually interchangeable. One’s good with his hands, one’s got a face like a Hummel figurine, and then there’s the other one. Fabrice Luchini is excellent as Joubert, lurching from antagonised lust to wounded puppy, seeking revenge or running away; it’s a very good portrayal of someone on the edge of a different life but not quite knowing whether to (or indeed how to) move forward. Isabelle Candelier gives a great supporting performance as his domineering and unsympathetic wife and Kacey Mottet Klein is eminently believable as their game-playing oafish teenager.

Sadly all the positives in this film don’t outweigh the negatives, and you leave the cinema mildly entertained, but glad it’s all over.

P. S. Maybe it was a premonition of what was to come, but we both agreed we’d never seen such a dire selection of trailers for future motion picture thrills. It may be some time before we head off to the cinema again….

Independent Traders of Northampton – Independence Day Fair at the Guildhall – The Cultural Quarter

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With 4th July looming, I was thinking about the nature of independence. Yes, I know it’s not like me to be that deep, gentle reader, but bear with me. Generally speaking, I can see there may be two stages of independence – the first, breaking away from a position where you are dependent – like a grown-up child leaving home, or the United States no longer being one of our little colonies; the second, maintaining and generally being independent, like that grown-up child taking the responsibility for his own life (and any who become dependent on him), and the United States growing into the most significant country in the world. Or at least until it was taken over by China.

For the most part – not exclusively, because life isn’t like that – it strikes me that independent people, countries, businesses, institutions, and so on, thrive through being independent, rather than following someone else’s rules, making someone else richer, or living out someone else’s dream rather than one’s own. We all like to have our own identity, to create our own space, to apply our own intelligence to our own lives, to make the world a better place. Otherwise we might as well set up shop in Pyongyang.

There’s going to be a Love Northampton Fair at the Guildhall in the town centre on Saturday July 4th, (Independence Day – appropriately enough) to celebrate and promote the town’s independent businesses and traders. One might think this just means shops, or cafés and restaurants, or bars. And of course, such places play a huge role in creating the individual sculpture that is our beloved town, and I shall be thinking about some of those places in another blog in a day or two’s time. However, there is more to it than that. In the middle of Northampton you find the classily demarcated zone of the “Cultural Quarter”, an area where many of the arts come together to form a solid heart in what would otherwise be a commercial centre. For example, here you will find the amazing museum with its massive collection of boots and shoes – a testament to Northampton’s shoemaking heritage – and NN, the Northampton Contemporary Art Space at 9 Guildhall Road, the home of the Northampton Art Collective, moved on from its now non-existent previous premises in the Fishmarket, which just goes to show you can’t simply demolish the arts. We actually popped into the NN Café upstairs last Saturday lunchtime for a glass of Pimm’s and a light bite – hurrah to them for providing top quality gluten-free paninis!

However, in the local arts scene, you won’t find a finer example of independent trailblazing than with the Royal and Derngate Theatres and their fantastic sidekick, the Errol Flynn Filmhouse. Comparing with our neighbour Milton Keynes, there they have a wonderful big theatre, but everything that runs there comes through the Ambassador Theatre Group chain – an assembly of big shows that tour the entire country. So what you see in Milton Keynes can also be seen in Birmingham, Woking, Wimbledon, Bromley, Richmond, Aylesbury, or Glasgow – and plenty more places besides. It’s good business for the theatre industry and I’m not knocking it. But it does lack a certain individuality.

Of course the Royal and Derngate will take some of those shows too, but more interestingly they also create their own home-grown productions. The annual Made in Northampton season is always a remarkable achievement, with six or more plays that make the best of local staging; and that challenge both the creative teams and their audiences with a season that does not shy away from taking on major projects and carrying them out magnificently. In the six years or so that I’ve been closely following the R&D’s output, they’ve created dozens of independent productions including transfers to the West End and Broadway (End of the Rainbow) and Shakespeare’s Globe (King John). Their productions have toured to Oxford, Leicester, Liverpool, Wolverhampton, Edinburgh and many other venues. They’ve been delightfully experimental too. The audience has joined the performers on the stage (Private Fears in Public Places, Town) or in the Rehearsal Room (Midsummer Bacchanalia), at the Holy Sepulchre (King John), in the Mailcoach pub (Honest), in Beckets Park (Decky Does a Bronco) or in the Chronicle and Echo Print Works (The Bacchae). Now that’s what I call inventiveness!

And of course there’s also the Underground, a venue with its own tricks up its sleeve, where Mrs C and I have spent many an uproarious night with the Screaming Blue Murder comedy nights, but which can also lend itself for very experimental theatre experiences. The Actors’ Company performed Ayckbourn’s Revengers’ Comedies there in 2009, with the audience seated around the walls in a complete rectangle. Only a couple of weeks ago we saw the Young Company create their spellbinding Kontakt experience in a murky mist of incense and school desks. And I’ll never forget the extraordinary intimate staging of The Body of an American in 2014.

In addition, for the last couple of years, we’ve had the Errol Flynn Filmhouse, an oasis of celluloid culture where the cinema actually treats you like an adult. Reclining leather chairs, a state of the art sound system, films you actually want to see, decent food and drink including several lines from local producers, and above all you get the feeling it’s a place that wants to show you a film rather than a place that wants to sell you a vat of popcorn and chuck a movie into the bargain. It constantly rates highly as one of the Northamptonshire’s most popular attractions on Trip Advisor, and it certainly encouraged us to go back to the cinema after a long estrangement from that genre.

Just across the road is somewhere I regret that I still haven’t visited but I have heard great things about – and that’s the Looking Glass Theatre. They have a theatre school for 8 – 18 year olds and regularly present children’s shows and pantomimes, as well as having a major costume hire service. Further down Derngate you come across the extraordinary house at No 78, the only house designed by Charles Rennie Mackintosh in England. This is now an independent tourist attraction, welcoming visitors from all over the world who are attracted by Mackintosh’s unique style. Not only can you learn about the history of this fascinating building but it also has a fantastic restaurant, The Dining Room, which offers so much more than your usual museum café.

So wedged within this small cultural enclave are a wide variety of attractions, and we are very lucky to have them. We all know of shops, restaurants, pubs that have closed down due to lack of customers. Don’t let that happen to our wonderful arts spaces. Use them or lose them – they’re far too good to lose! Why not show your support for our independent artistic adventurers in the Cultural Quarter by visiting the Independence Day Fair at the Guildhall on Saturday. It’s free to get in and you might discover something new to enjoy!

Review – The Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, Errol Flynn Filmhouse, Northampton, 5th April 2015

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As you may or may not know, Mrs Chrisparkle and I are great fans of anything to do with India. It’s our favourite country to visit, the people are lovely and the cacophony of sights, sounds and smells on every street are enough to stimulate the most jaded of brains; although whilst I am sure there are plenty of eclectic hotels like the Best Exotic Marigold (or indeed the Second Best Exotic Marigold) we’d prefer to stay in an Oberoi or Taj, if that’s ok with you.

We saw the original film on TV last year. I thought it was charming, heart-warming, gently funny and an incredibly accurate representation of India. I also don’t know anyone who saw it who wasn’t delighted by it. The film was a relatively unexpected commercial success, grossing $138m on a $10m budget. No surprise, then, that they got their heads together to come up with a sequel. It’s been out a while now, and we missed it when it first came to the Errol Flynn; but word reached us that the new film was still delightful, but not as delightful as the original. It’s usually the case with sequels.

It’s not vital to have seen the first film, but I think it would help, if only to understand better the characters and relationships behind the names. Sonny (who runs the Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, a quiet, idyllic but somewhat chaotic establishment, catering for an energetic, adventurous, and retired clientele) is now in a working partnership with Muriel, one of the original clients. They fly to San Diego to seek financial backing from a large conglomerate to buy and convert a dilapidated hotel so that Sonny’s dream of entrepreneurial empire building can become a reality; cue lots of great lines for Maggie Smith about how much she enjoyed America, (not). However, the path of true business never runs smoothly, and a combination of hotel inspectors (or are they?), rival purchasers and the usual shenanigans of the residents of the hotel get in the way. To add to the proceedings, preparations are underway for Sonny and Sunaina’s wedding. There’s an engagement party, and a family party – but with all the distractions and a jealous groom will they actually make it to the wedding day, and will Sonny’s dream of being a multi-hotelier be realised? You’ll know after 2 hours and 2 minutes.

For the most part, the story is wafer thin and what little there is is overwhelmed by a few additional distracting side-plots. There’s a sequence where Norman mistakenly encourages a taxi-driver to murder his girlfriend Carol, and then spends a lot of effort trying to stop him. As a plot it goes nowhere and I found it rather tedious. The whole “which, if any, of the guests is the hotel inspector” storyline also goes on a bit long and, to be honest, we don’t really care. What we do care about, a lot, is the characters. The film is peppered with some wonderful creations, the majority of them with the first flush of youth a long way behind them, and we really want them to carpe diem and make the most of the time that’s remaining. The on –off relationship (mainly off) between Douglas and Evelyn has you tearing your hair in frustration that she won’t commit to him. The return of his ex-wife Jean demanding divorce drives it home that it’s even more important that they get on with life.

At the other end of the “dalliance” scale, Madge has been stringing along two Indian suitors mischievously simply because she can but realises that when it comes to the crunch neither of them is what she wants. The resolution to this problem, whilst telegraphed a mile off, is beautifully realised. And the character of Muriel has developed from the difficult, complaining old biddy she was into a wise Everyman figure who watches the action from the side-lines. Despite that gruff exterior, she genuinely wants people to make the best of what they’ve got, and not fritter away their time like she did. The dialogue is very well-written and brings the characters to life, and it goes without saying that the cinematography is beautiful and makes you long for India itself.

But for me, three stand-out performances drive the film onwards, and, frankly, you’d enjoy it no matter what the script contained. Judi Dench is exquisite as Evelyn; bold and capable in the world of work but tentative (and hating herself for it) when it comes to love. You can’t imagine Dame Judi putting in a performance that wasn’t just instinctively Dame Judi. Her elegant voice can capture the full range of emotions from self-doubt to self-confidence, imbued with cheekiness or sorrow all in the same sentence. Eloquent and understanding, more than capable of defending herself in argument, but essentially fragile and needing reassurance. It’s a beautiful performance.

And it’s a fantastic juxtaposition with Dame Maggie Smith as Muriel, dismissive of waffle and impatient with incompetence, never one to pull any punches whilst talking to those who might consider themselves to be her superiors, all the while looking mortality in the face with quiet dignity. Whilst Dame Judi is always Dame Judi, Dame Maggie can be anyone. As a wonderful contrast to her Downton Abbey character, here she is a commoner, with a down at mouth accent and shabby of appearance, but never dull of wit. The third outstanding performance is by Dev Patel who, as Sonny, absolutely encapsulates that tendency of spirited and ambitious young Indian people to deliver outspoken superlatives, massively overhype any project and never let a silence go uninterrupted. His balance of being both deeply in love with Sunaina but also a useless fiancé means we can all recognise aspects of ourselves in his hopelessly ham-fisted relationship. He’s also really funny – and a convincing Bollywood dancer too.

Bill Nighy is back, still playing Bill Nighy, playing Douglas, stumbling over himself to do the right thing and say the right words, attempting to conceal crestfallen feelings when things don’t work out right: the epitome of middle-aged male vulnerability. Penelope Wilton is spot-on as ex-wife Jean, using attack as the best form of defence in attempting to secure a divorce, giving an appearance of cheerfulness which is as hollow as their ex-marriage. Celia Imrie has her usual knowing sexual predator look on her face even when she’s been sprung, when her two suitors turn up at the same time – but she does it awfully well. Ronald Pickup as Norman and Diana Hardcastle as Carol play a couple going through a hard time but not expressing it to one another, and it’s very touching.

The big additions to the cast for this film are Richard Gere as Guy Chambers, whom Sonny instantly suspects is the hotel inspector and therefore stumbles over himself, Basil Fawlty-style, to over-ingratiate himself with him; and Tamsin Greig as Lavinia, ostensibly at the hotel to check if it will be suitable for her mother. For a comic actress of Ms Greig’s quality she is woefully underutilised but carries off her disappointed, shocked but far too well-behaved to complain persona with her usual aplomb. Mr Gere is excellent as Guy, the debonair traveller, rising to the challenge of asking Sonny’s mother out for a meal, dealing with all the attention he inevitably gets because of his looks with refined false modesty. Lillete Dubey (Mrs Kapoor) is slow to react to his charms at first, and a difficult conquest to make, but then goes the way of all womankind when they encounter Richard Gere.

Like its original, it’s a heart-warming and charming film; it’s never going to count as one of the finest films of all time but there’s plenty of character development and universal truths to get your teeth into. Plus the thrills and beauties of India. What more could you ask?

Review – The Theory of Everything, Errol Flynn Filmhouse, Northampton, 21st January 2015

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One thing’s for sure – Stephen Hawking is a very clever man. He’s known for his intelligence, his books, his theories, and – let’s be honest – for his survival instinct. When you hear it, everyone recognises that metallic artificial voice and knows about the motor neurone disease that changed a fit and able young man into a completely physically paralysed one. Personally, I can’t recall ever seeing a photograph of him as a young man, and I must admit that I’ve never thought about his private life at all. It’s as though his intelligence and disability are a mask that prevents us or discourages us from seeing – or even considering – the actual man underneath. My bad.

For that reason alone, The Theory of Everything is an extraordinary film because it lifts the lid on this private and unique individual and shows us the course of events that takes us from 1963 to the present day. It’s based on his first wife Jane Wilde Hawking’s memoirs so one can presume it’s all pretty accurate. We relive Stephen and Jane’s undergraduate days, their early married life together, the progress of both his career and his disease, their growing family, and the way they grow apart in the directions of Stephen’s helper/carer Elaine and their family friend Jonathan. In many respects it’s an ordinary family saga, just set against the background of a brilliant brain and a hideous wasting disease.

Mathematics and Science really are a foreign language to me. I haven’t tried to learn the basics of what Mr Hawking’s philosophy is about, because I know I simply wouldn’t be able to understand it. I know I wouldn’t grasp the concepts in his books. In the film I was entranced by the sequences when he is writing out his equations on a blackboard; reams and reams of hieroglyphics of which I couldn’t follow even 1%. They’re just patterns to me. So for me it was a revelation to relate these random, non-understandable concepts to a real man, his real hands writing the equations out on a real blackboard, flowing out from his real brain. It’s not just textbook theory – it’s Mr Hawking’s life-blood, full of passion, hope, and ambition. He wants to find the equation that proves the theory of everything. If that isn’t ambitious, I don’t know what is. Call me shallow, but it had never occurred to me that these (for want of a better word) sums actually stemmed from the mind of an individual person. I just took them as a given. I guess 1+1=2 was actually the brainchild of some caveman once upon a time.

Another aspect of the film that shows the human dimension of the man, rather than just singling out his brilliant brain, is the fact that people with disabilities are interested in sex too. This isn’t so much Does He Take Sugar? as Does He Use Condoms? – with the answer firmly in the negative. As the Hawking family continues to grow with more and more children – and Hawking’s disability seems to get worse and worse – I bet I wasn’t the only person in that cinema who thought “well just how the hell did he manage it?” That was also the suspicions of their contemporaries, as idle speculation from Jane’s parents and family wondered if Stephen really was the father of their third child – with suspicions alighting on their friend Jonathan. But no, Stephen is definitely the father, and it’s the mark of a classy film that they don’t feel the need to give us the ocular proof.

Visually it’s a stunning film, with lovely settings of Cambridge in the 60s as the backdrop to Stephen and Jane’s blossoming romance: the river, the university buildings, railings full of bikes, idyllic lawns. There’s a memorable scene where Hawking is led into a very old-fashioned looking laboratory by his professor in an attempt to galvanise him into some great thoughts and ambitions for his thesis. It actually reminded me of the Biology classroom at my old school, and it’s precisely the kind of place you would expect to see in a traditional institution like Cambridge.

But the really impressive heart of this film is in the acting. Eddie Redmayne delivers just about as perfect a performance as anyone could imagine as Stephen Hawking. From his faux-embarrassed brainboxy young undergraduate, to the world authority that he is today, Mr Redmayne captures a remarkable balance between expressing Mr Hawking’s character and portraying the physicality of his progressive disease. Over the course of the two hours you see Mr Redmayne literally deteriorate before your eyes in a way that you would have thought it was impossible to act – you would think he was genuinely suffering with the disease too. The strength of his voice also fades as the film continues, and somehow, facially, he even manages to recreate Mr Hawking’s trademark swollen lip; I guess that’s down to some clever make-up. His performance is clearly driven by sincerity and respect for the person he is representing; it’s a genuinely unbelievable piece of acting. I thought he was great as Marius in the film of Les Miserables – but this is a career-defining performance.

Felicity Jones plays Jane as a complete powerhouse of strength. The young undergraduate who spins around in joyful freedom by the side of the Cam when Hawking is trying to explain some cosmological law develops into the young woman who doesn’t flinch from the heavy demands of being married to someone with motor neurone disease. There’s one splendid scene where Miss Jones attempts to persevere with her own classical poetry studies, so easy to ignore as irrelevant compared with Hawking’s discoveries. There she sits, at a table, books spread everywhere, getting increasingly irritated that she can’t concentrate on the research that she wants because of family demands; but then she reassumes her role as wife and carer without comment or argument. It really conveys the challenges and stresses of her life. It’s a very thoughtful, honest performance; and also her growing fondness for Jonathan is portrayed with quiet respectability, decency and genuine affection.

I really enjoyed Harry Lloyd’s performance as Brian, Stephen’s university roommate and pal; bright, good-natured, funny, but supportive – the perfect credentials to be your best friend. The scene where Stephen tells him he is suffering from the disease and has two years to live is performed with utmost integrity. As the penny gradually drops, Mr Lloyd desperately faffs round trying to get his head around the fact that his friend won’t be around for long and that it will be a horrible death. Mr Redmayne meanwhile just calmly asks to be alone. It’s a perfectly acted scene. But Mr Lloyd gives great support throughout the whole film. There’s another dignified and mature performance from Charlie Cox as Jonathan, the choirmaster who helps both Stephen and Jane with the practicalities of life before slowly falling in love with Jane.

However, for me the film isn’t an unmitigated success, because despite enjoying it – and thinking the lead performance was simply remarkable – I have to admit that I got a little bored by it. As Stephen’s condition worsens, and the difficulties he faces increase, I found there was a general glumness about the whole film that rather wore me down; and the last half hour or so felt a little bland and lacked a dramatic intensity, primarily because we know that in real life, the real Stephen Hawking is still alive and kicking and slaying cosmological dragons.

I was also slightly irked that the film raises the question of Stephen only having two years to live, but never addresses the fact that this diagnosis was clearly wrong. Was the original doctor over-egging his pudding? Or is it an absolute miracle that Stephen Hawking is still alive? It’s a loose end I’d like tied up. I also felt the timescale was a little woolly throughout; it was hard to get a feel of the actual progression of years as the film went on. We know it started in 1963 but I couldn’t work out roughly what year any particular event might have taken place. Specifically I got confused by the car that Jonathan drives sometime after the third child has been born (when they go camping in France). It had a six digit number plate, meaning it was registered before 1963. But I believe we’re talking mid-80s when Hawking caught pneumonia in France. So either time had stood still, or Jonathan had a very old car.

Nevertheless, it is an excellent film that gives you an insight into the personal life of a very public figure, and it is crowned by a simply breathtaking performance by Eddie Redmayne. Highly recommended!

Review – The Imitation Game, Errol Flynn Filmhouse, Northampton, 11th December 2014

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There are secrets and there are secrets; but one of the best kept secrets in the history of mankind must be that of the wartime activity that happened within that innocent looking compound at Bletchley Park – the home of the code-breakers, whose success is believed to have shortened the length of World War Two by two years, saving an inestimable number of lives. Personally, I feel a certain affinity with the place. As the infant Chrisparkle, I spent my first five years living in the nearby village of Newton Longville; the Dowager Mrs C had a cousin who worked as a typist at Bletchley Park during the war – but of course we never really knew what she did; the Soviet spy John Cairncross, who also worked there, was the brother of the Master of St Peter’s College Oxford, my alma mater. Forsooth, Enigma is the life blood coursing through my veins.

Although Bletchley Park is now open as a museum (and a jolly good place to visit too), many secrets from its past still remain; and that’s probably right and proper, both to protect the innocent and in the interests of national security. But it’s also important that we can consider it a national shrine to the memory of Alan Turing, code breaker extraordinaire, computer creator, and victim of anti-homosexual legislation which required him to be chemically castrated and led him on to suicide. From today’s perspective it seems at best bizarre, at worst immoral and criminal, that he should have been treated this way by the country that owed so much to him; but, as Chapman wrote in 1654, the law is an ass and will always remain so.

The screenplay for The Imitation Game is written by Graham Moore and is based on the biography Alan Turing: The Enigma by Wadham College Mathematics Fellow Andrew Hodges, so it’s got a reliable pedigree. The title comes from Turing’s own words, his description of an experiment to define a standard for a machine to be called “intelligent” – which later became known as the “Turing Test” and which, even today, is an essential concept in the philosophy of artificial intelligence (according to Wikipedia anyway, so it must be true).Interweaving three timelines of Turing’s life – his schooldays at Sherborne, his working life at Bletchley Park and his final days at Manchester – the film tells his story clearly, compassionately and with a good deal of humour. In real life, Turing was doubtless something of a rum cove, too cerebral to waste time on friendships or personal relationships, and too literal to converse normally with his colleagues. This is amusingly portrayed in the scene where Turing is told by one of the chaps “we’re going for lunch” – with the unspoken implication “do you want to come too?” – but Turing only hears and deals with the fact that the others are going for lunch which is a mere statement that doesn’t affect him.

Nevertheless, Turing does have a close friendship with Newnham College alumnus Joan Clarke, a whizz at cryptanalysis, and to whom he was briefly engaged before admitting to her his homosexuality. Turing was definitely turned on by her intelligence – cue for another delicious scene where she is hilariously patronised when taking a test to see if she is brainy enough to work at Bletchley Park. One of the most intriguing things about the film is that it makes you want to find out more about some of the other people in Turing’s orbit at the time – like Joan Clarke, John Cairncross, Commander Alastair Denniston, and International Chess Master Hugh Alexander. Turing’s story has a very rich cast of supporting characters about whom one feels one ought to know something, and the film is definitely a good starting point to find out.

Despite the frequent flashes of humour, and the gathering momentum as the team get closer and closer to cracking the code, the main emotional sense from the film is one of sadness. For me, the two most poignant sequences showed the developing friendship between young Alan and his school friend Christopher Morcom, their messages passed to each other in code to help mask the necessary secrecy of the growing love between them – and how it ends; and the pathetic shell of a man that Turing becomes as a result of the enforced medication to reduce his libido, quaking with tears at the degradation he faces, an old man well before his time.

The film is beautifully acted throughout but boasts at its heart a real star turn from Benedict Cumberbatch as Turing. He absolutely gets that sense of edgy, uncomfortable, reserved intelligence, together with a dedication to his task, a justifiably high opinion of himself and a superior hollowness where his emotion should be. It’s only at the end, when he completely breaks down, that you see the years of repression spilling out, and it’s extremely moving. He is matched by a superb performance from Keira Knightley as Joan, irrepressibly and irresistibly upbeat, and determined to be seen as an equal in the misogynistic world of code breaking. Matthew Goode is excellent as Alexander, his nose put out of joint by Turing’s rise to power, congratulating his achievements with still a hint of resentment; and there’s a brilliant performance by Charles Dance as the no-nonsense Commander Denniston, permanently irritated by Turing’s lack of respect for his position, and always looking for a revengeful way to regain supremacy.

I also very much enjoyed Mark Strong’s quietly assertive and wryly humorous performance as MI6 boss Stewart Menzies; and Allen Leech played John Cairncross almost precisely the same as he plays Branson in Downton Abbey, but seeing as how they’re both socialists in a world of nobility, I guess that makes sense. Topping and tailing the timelines of the story I was very impressed by Alex Lawther as the young Alan – repressed, tight-lipped, tentatively pushing at the open doorway of a burgeoning relationship – and Rory Kinnear is as eminently watchable as he always is as the apparently sensitive, but ultimately law-enforcing, Inspector Nock.

An engrossing story of one of the most important aspects of the Second World War, lucidly told, and compellingly acted – we really enjoyed it. It also gives you a lot to think about secrecy, intelligence, loyalty and justice. This one’s going to be around for a long time – and it’s got to be in line for loads of awards!

Review – Gone Girl, Errol Flynn Filmhouse, 2nd November 2014

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This is the second consecutive film we’ve seen at the Errol Flynn that has been a sell-out – the other being the splendid Pride. Directed by David Fincher, who made Seven (very good) and The Social Network (a bit tedious) and starring Ben Affleck and Rosamund Pike, whose Hedda Gabler we saw in Oxford a few years ago, this is Gillian Flynn’s own adaptation of her best-selling novel.

Hopefully this won’t give too much away: Nick Dunne comes home one day to find a glass occasional table smashed and on its side and no sign of his wife Amy. She’s the real life version of the fictitious Amazing Amy, heroine of a series of books written by her parents, thereby making her disappearance instantly interesting to the media. Imagine if A A Milne’s Christopher Robin was thought to be at the bottom of a lake somewhere, that’s the kind of thing. Nick is initially helpful with the cops, but they start to suspect him of her murder, and he doesn’t help himself by his ability to grin inanely when posing by a poster of his missing wife, or allow himself to be hoodwinked by a pretty journo into co-operating with an inappropriate selfie. As the case mounts against him – despite the lack of a body – he enlists the help of Ace Defence Lawyer Tanner Bolt. Add to the melting point a little infidelity, harassment of his twin sister, Amy’s unpredictable ex-boyfriend, and a couple of mud-raking gossip-mongering TV chat-show hosts, and there’s plenty for Detective Rhonda Boney to get her teeth into. And there’s also the fascinating unravelling story of what actually did happen to Amy.

It’s a gripping story, tightly told, with an excellent cast and some scary moments. As usual, I missed the first few minutes of dialogue as I couldn’t make out a damn thing they said whilst I adjusted to their muttering accents. I was also struck by how dark some of the scenes were – not in a moody, portentous way, but literally lacking in light. This was particularly noticeable in some scenes with Mr Affleck, where he often seemed to be lurking in gloom, almost as though he wasn’t entirely happy with our seeing how he’s ageing. I’m sure that wasn’t the motivation, but I did find the deliberate darkness rather irritating.

When you could see what Mr Affleck was doing, he was extremely good. Blundering hopelessly into traps set for him, and not only by the police, it’s a very credible performance of an ordinary guy trying to cope with devastatingly public difficulties way beyond his usual experience. Even though he’s a louse in many ways, you do take his side and he actually becomes quite heroic, which is an interesting manipulation of the viewer’s morals. Miss Pike, too, was very effective as Amy, filling in her diary-driven backstory, convincingly changing appearance from society girl to trailer park trashette as the plot thickens. At times there was more than something of the Fatal Attraction bunny-boiler about her, which added a nice sense of suspense.

I was very impressed with Kim Dickens as the detective; suspicious, reasonable, firm but eventually powerless to see justice through to its proper conclusion; and I liked her badinage with her assisting officer, played by Patrick Fugit. Neil Patrick Harris plays Amy’s ex-boyfriend Desi with just the tiniest bit of the unhinged about him which makes you think the story might progress in a different direction. Carrie Coon gives the character of Nick’s twin Margo a lot of attitude, fiercely defensive of her brother and even more fiercely attacking him when he lets her down; and Sela Ward plays TV hostess Sharon Shieber with chillingly attractive venom.

It’s a long film at two and a half hours, but it really does hold your attention all the way through; I wouldn’t say that the time flies by exactly, but it certainly doesn’t seem too arduous. What’s really aggravating is the uncertain ending! You’re crying out for some natural justice to win the day but it’s not going to happen. Still, it’s a realistic way of finishing the film, and you can always add your own supposition as to what might have happened next.

Arresting, exciting, with surprising plot twists and not a little disturbing; what more could you want from a thriller?