2014 will not go down as a vintage year for the Brit Awards, but then again, very few recent award ceremonies have.
The ceremony has always had a reputation of a drink-a-thon for the music industry, while also rewarding bland-yet-commercially successful music, and giving other fodder coveted TV performance slots.
Minor quibbles are therefore magnified into Major Moments, in the absence of a genuine controversy like Jarvis Cocker mooning Michael Jackson in 1995, or unpredictable awards like Keane (somehow) beating Franz Ferdinand to Best Album in 2005.
This magnification effort helps generate coverage, which is a great way for showbiz types to maintain their spotlight long after the corporate circus has moved onto its next destination.
Perhaps this cynical outlook is the best way to describe the speech by the winners of the oh-so rock and roll "MasterCard British Album of the Year in association with the Sun's Bizarre Column" award near the end of this year's ceremony being turned into the biggest storm on Twitter - a storm that has continued relentlessly the day after the show itself.
After his band won their second Brit of the evening, Arctic Monkeys frontman Alex Turner gave a curious speech about how "rock n roll will never die" before dropping his microphone and walking off with his bandmates. This nonchalance to the point of arrogance about the whole thing was at least different to the stale commercialism that preceded it, but for some reason it seemed to anger people, such as Peaches Geldof and half of Twitter.
At the time, it was hard to know what really to think. It was a refreshingly left-field move for him not to copy everyone else with the standard acceptance speech template of thanking several dozen names and their label, but at the same time, it wasn't as hilarious as when he slagged off the Brit School while dressed as a fox-hunter (or one of Mumford & Sons) at the 2008 Brit Awards, only to be cut off by Fearne Cotton just as he seemed to have really gotten going.
While its true rock stars will say their craft will not die, and it was also true rock outsold other genres in 2013, this was not a forum friendly for rock, given his band were the only true out-and-out British rock band nominated for anything. Even then, this was on the back of an album that was possibly their least rock-inspired, in the form of the hip-hop-rock wordsmithery of AM.
Had he made his speech at next week's NME Awards, where Arctic Monkeys are up for what seems like every single award, then he might have gotten away with it. But the more establishment feel to the Brits - a scene Turner would later describe as "not my thing" at the post-show interview - meant it went down like a bit of a lead balloon at the O2 on the night.
The speech itself has divided opinion on social media. Some people thought Turner was a genius for subverting the Brits, while others thought of him as a colossal douchebag. Naturally, colossal douchebag was among the kinder adjectives used to describe Mr. Turner in the wake of his speech.
But it says a lot, sadly, that with the Brits being as bland as eating a whole packet of cream crackers to yourself with no topping, this has become the evening's big talking point.
Twitter has certainly been hard at debate. Even a day after the ceremony and with competition for David Bowie wanting Scotland to stay in the UK, the Brit Awards buzz still concerns the words of drunken wisdom or otherwise that came slowly out of Turner's mouth, and as more people decide to check the video out, it continues the buzzy feedback from going.
Not that the Brit people will be too alarmed. It keeps the ceremony in the public eye, which is handy as the TV ratings showed the 2014 ceremony as the lowest watched Brit Awards ceremony of the 21st century, with an average audience of less than 4.5million people trudging through the unholy mess of a ceremony.
Yet despite this, the viral nature of his speech has guaranteed him and the Brits publicity - something which was presumably the point as it allows further recognition for the band, who are headlining Reading and Leeds Festivals in August, and for the awards themselves, who will be back next year with (hopefully) something approaching entertainment.
Certainly at the least, it was the right kind of PR - something that wouldn't have been organised by MasterCard's inept PR agency, who spent most the day apologising to journalists they were caught offering "tweets-for-access" packages to.
Even though its still ongoing, the controversy all felt unfulfilling. While the speech occasionally touched on points of relevance and intrigue that will have borne some degree of truth, the whole saga of Turner's speech felt like a mildly surprising footnote to the event that has been made to feel like something greater than it was by willing participants on Twitter. And all this long after Turner himself has probably forgotten about it, either via hangover or moving on to his band's next tour.
If this is the best at controversy the Brit Awards have to offer, then it might as well give up pretending it can offer riotous antics now.
Thursday, 20 February 2014
Tuesday, 18 February 2014
Rumour Overload and Newcastle United
Anyone with a Twitter account will be fully aware of the rumour WWE supremo Vince McMahon wants to buy Newcastle United.
At some point last night, a small US sports news website made claims that the head of WWE saw the Magpies as a way to advance the cause of his WWE brand in the UK market. While this is forgetting the fact WWE do UK arena tours (next one is booked for May) and the thing is shown on Sky Sports regularly, this is a rumour that gained significant traction and interest over the evening.
Before long, there was photoshopped team line-ups of WWE characters lining up in 4-3-3 formation, references to WWE referees, takedowns, steel chairs, rods and all manner of bizarre stuff. Most amusing were also bizarre hypotheses on how a take-over might work, incorporating the weird narrative arcs that has made WWE a huge entertainment product in America.
The problem is that its probably not going to happen. It was rumoured in summer 2011, although dismissed at the time as nonsense, while latest reports indicate Mike Ashley values Newcastle at £330M.
Valuations are always oddly totted up in football. Liverpool cost their owners Fenway Sports Group £300million in 2010, while Fulham were a £200million purchase last summer for Shahid Khan. The recent attempts to value the clubs by a leading sports accountant back in April last year valued Liverpool as a more valuable asset and Fulham as a significantly less expensive one.
The same study had Newcastle valued at £275M - the 7th most valuable club in England, after both Manchester clubs, Arsenal, Chelsea, Spurs and Liverpool.
In an ordinarily world, there should be punters beating a stick to the St. James' Park door. The club is a valuable brand with a very loyal fanbase and potential for riches in a league that is an orgy of cash greater than any rap video. Couple this with an owner that hasn't seen a game since September, does not seem especially keen on engaging his investment aside from bare minimum loans to help out and is reportedly interested in selling, and it should lead to some interest.
But this interest has not been coming, although not for the want of reporting. Since Ashley first put the club up for sale in September 2008, there have been 13 groups linked with taking over. Some, like local businessman Barry Moat, were closer to happening than others, but ultimately none happened and Ashley has remained in charge at St. James' Park.
The lack of communication between the Magpies board - Ashley or otherwise - and the outside world has led to the blossoming of all manner of rumours alongside that of takeovers.
While takeover rumours are one thing, the manner of all other hypothetical scenarios about the club's current situation have been allowed to stem by a lack of communication from the board apart from standard things, and a lack of belief in the words of manager Alan Pardew.
Among recent rumours include the questions over what, if anything, the role was of Director of Football Joe Kinnear, who was dismissed from his role two days after the Tyne-Wear Derby and three days after the club failed to land a replacement for Yohan Cabaye.
The main idea that has been doing the rounds is the idea that the man once christened JFK by the club's fans was hired to be a patsy to deflect hate away from Ashley and Pardew.
While it is likely, it was also not helped when Pardew himself said he was happy with the work Kinnear did. Its big talk for a man to say he is happy with the work done when his squad is significantly weaker than it should be, given Kinnear is the man who only bought in two loan players and sold Cabaye and the equally useful James Perch without replacements.
Its arguable Kinnear might still be around had the club concluded a deal for Lyon's Clement Grenier, Montpellier's Remy Cabella or one of our other targets by the end of the window. But all managed was a loan move for Borussia Monchengladbach forward Luuk de Jong, who has yet to convince.
Other recent rumours have included the idea the club does not want to be in European competitions, or at least skip the Europa League and go straight into the Champions League. Pardew has previously said it had a huge impact on the club's 2012-13 campaign, and said the quick turnaround teams are expected to perform was not ideal to his team's progression.
This is not a view confined to the men from NE1 - Southampton manager Mauricio Pochettino has said he is not interested in reaching the Europa League, and that it should be abolished, while Spurs, Swansea and Wigan have all fired their managers after slow starts hindered by European competition.
It wasn't always this way. Back in 2003-04, Newcastle managed 5th and a UEFA Cup semi-final with very little rotation and genuine misery we couldn't reach the final. Its possible, however, that as players are now expected to cover significantly more miles in games than they were a decade ago, it means its not practical to maintain this full-throttle pace continually.
But at the same time, it feels a little bit gutting that we didn't push on and go "Well, we're here - why not go for it?"
The conspiracy on short-term funding and a lack of interest in Cups due to a perceived lack of investment is also a common one. But this conspiracy is more grounded in reality.
At the club's fans forum meeting at the start of the season, board members said the cup competitions do not represent a priority for them. This is in line with a lack of money put in by Ashley, with the club expected to be self-sufficient on a £20M-a-season investment plus whatever TV, matchday, commercial and transfer income turns up.
The start of the 2012-13 season saw the club expected to push on with just one player bought in to try and help the club's progression. This ultimately proved short-sighted, and left the club struggling for numbers until a belated January splurge.
Existing on what we earn would be easier if it wasn't for the fact that, as financial figures showed, the club's matchday and commercial income has halved since Ashley turned up in 2007. It would be easier if we had this shortfall - a fair bit of which would be made up by the millions of free advertising SportsDirect and associated brands have been receiving on the club's billboards.
Its commercial income is not helped by the reported monetary that the club earns less from its sponsorship deal with Wonga.com then it had done with its existing deal from Virgin Money, although as no official disclosure has been coming, it allows for the continuation of rumour.
One further conspiracy theory, as outlined in club fanzine The Mag, is that Alan Pardew's 8-year deal is part of the club's attempt to find new owners, with Ashley deciding a new owner can back him or sack him so Pardew can keep the club ticking over in the Premier League until his departure, and someone else can decide what to do with him.
As noted by the Daily Mirror's North-East correspondent, the ambivalence of Ashley has been the main thing keeping Pardew in employment at St. James' Park at a time when the club appear to be coasting to the finish line. A more trigger-happy owner would have most likely opted to change by now.
Conjecture and misinformation is rampant around the club. The lack of communication and disclosure coupled to an information-hungry and dissatisfied fanbase has allowed weird theorems to run rampant.
Last night saw this taken to its extreme, with the WWE takeover rumour despite the likelihood that the only time (if ever) Tynesiders will see Vince McMahon in the city will be when the WWE people arrive at Newcastle Arena for a show in May.
The lack of information even seems to have impacted on journalists. The Sunday Express has been banned from St. James' Park after the club essentially described a story on Pardew being reportedly one game from the sack as made up.
But with no information on what the truth is, this means the rumour mill has been allowed to run wild, spouting all sorts of crackpot theories that may or may not have resemblance to reality at NE1. As well, it means the aura of the club is shrouded in mystery, and just seems that nobody in any capacity has any knowledge of what is going on.
The sooner truth happens one way or another is probably best for all concerned with the Newcastle United fans, commentators and possibly the management, employees and playing squad as well.
At some point last night, a small US sports news website made claims that the head of WWE saw the Magpies as a way to advance the cause of his WWE brand in the UK market. While this is forgetting the fact WWE do UK arena tours (next one is booked for May) and the thing is shown on Sky Sports regularly, this is a rumour that gained significant traction and interest over the evening.
Before long, there was photoshopped team line-ups of WWE characters lining up in 4-3-3 formation, references to WWE referees, takedowns, steel chairs, rods and all manner of bizarre stuff. Most amusing were also bizarre hypotheses on how a take-over might work, incorporating the weird narrative arcs that has made WWE a huge entertainment product in America.
The problem is that its probably not going to happen. It was rumoured in summer 2011, although dismissed at the time as nonsense, while latest reports indicate Mike Ashley values Newcastle at £330M.
Valuations are always oddly totted up in football. Liverpool cost their owners Fenway Sports Group £300million in 2010, while Fulham were a £200million purchase last summer for Shahid Khan. The recent attempts to value the clubs by a leading sports accountant back in April last year valued Liverpool as a more valuable asset and Fulham as a significantly less expensive one.
The same study had Newcastle valued at £275M - the 7th most valuable club in England, after both Manchester clubs, Arsenal, Chelsea, Spurs and Liverpool.
In an ordinarily world, there should be punters beating a stick to the St. James' Park door. The club is a valuable brand with a very loyal fanbase and potential for riches in a league that is an orgy of cash greater than any rap video. Couple this with an owner that hasn't seen a game since September, does not seem especially keen on engaging his investment aside from bare minimum loans to help out and is reportedly interested in selling, and it should lead to some interest.
But this interest has not been coming, although not for the want of reporting. Since Ashley first put the club up for sale in September 2008, there have been 13 groups linked with taking over. Some, like local businessman Barry Moat, were closer to happening than others, but ultimately none happened and Ashley has remained in charge at St. James' Park.
The lack of communication between the Magpies board - Ashley or otherwise - and the outside world has led to the blossoming of all manner of rumours alongside that of takeovers.
While takeover rumours are one thing, the manner of all other hypothetical scenarios about the club's current situation have been allowed to stem by a lack of communication from the board apart from standard things, and a lack of belief in the words of manager Alan Pardew.
Among recent rumours include the questions over what, if anything, the role was of Director of Football Joe Kinnear, who was dismissed from his role two days after the Tyne-Wear Derby and three days after the club failed to land a replacement for Yohan Cabaye.
The main idea that has been doing the rounds is the idea that the man once christened JFK by the club's fans was hired to be a patsy to deflect hate away from Ashley and Pardew.
While it is likely, it was also not helped when Pardew himself said he was happy with the work Kinnear did. Its big talk for a man to say he is happy with the work done when his squad is significantly weaker than it should be, given Kinnear is the man who only bought in two loan players and sold Cabaye and the equally useful James Perch without replacements.
Its arguable Kinnear might still be around had the club concluded a deal for Lyon's Clement Grenier, Montpellier's Remy Cabella or one of our other targets by the end of the window. But all managed was a loan move for Borussia Monchengladbach forward Luuk de Jong, who has yet to convince.
Other recent rumours have included the idea the club does not want to be in European competitions, or at least skip the Europa League and go straight into the Champions League. Pardew has previously said it had a huge impact on the club's 2012-13 campaign, and said the quick turnaround teams are expected to perform was not ideal to his team's progression.
This is not a view confined to the men from NE1 - Southampton manager Mauricio Pochettino has said he is not interested in reaching the Europa League, and that it should be abolished, while Spurs, Swansea and Wigan have all fired their managers after slow starts hindered by European competition.
It wasn't always this way. Back in 2003-04, Newcastle managed 5th and a UEFA Cup semi-final with very little rotation and genuine misery we couldn't reach the final. Its possible, however, that as players are now expected to cover significantly more miles in games than they were a decade ago, it means its not practical to maintain this full-throttle pace continually.
But at the same time, it feels a little bit gutting that we didn't push on and go "Well, we're here - why not go for it?"
The conspiracy on short-term funding and a lack of interest in Cups due to a perceived lack of investment is also a common one. But this conspiracy is more grounded in reality.
At the club's fans forum meeting at the start of the season, board members said the cup competitions do not represent a priority for them. This is in line with a lack of money put in by Ashley, with the club expected to be self-sufficient on a £20M-a-season investment plus whatever TV, matchday, commercial and transfer income turns up.
The start of the 2012-13 season saw the club expected to push on with just one player bought in to try and help the club's progression. This ultimately proved short-sighted, and left the club struggling for numbers until a belated January splurge.
Existing on what we earn would be easier if it wasn't for the fact that, as financial figures showed, the club's matchday and commercial income has halved since Ashley turned up in 2007. It would be easier if we had this shortfall - a fair bit of which would be made up by the millions of free advertising SportsDirect and associated brands have been receiving on the club's billboards.
Its commercial income is not helped by the reported monetary that the club earns less from its sponsorship deal with Wonga.com then it had done with its existing deal from Virgin Money, although as no official disclosure has been coming, it allows for the continuation of rumour.
One further conspiracy theory, as outlined in club fanzine The Mag, is that Alan Pardew's 8-year deal is part of the club's attempt to find new owners, with Ashley deciding a new owner can back him or sack him so Pardew can keep the club ticking over in the Premier League until his departure, and someone else can decide what to do with him.
As noted by the Daily Mirror's North-East correspondent, the ambivalence of Ashley has been the main thing keeping Pardew in employment at St. James' Park at a time when the club appear to be coasting to the finish line. A more trigger-happy owner would have most likely opted to change by now.
Conjecture and misinformation is rampant around the club. The lack of communication and disclosure coupled to an information-hungry and dissatisfied fanbase has allowed weird theorems to run rampant.
Last night saw this taken to its extreme, with the WWE takeover rumour despite the likelihood that the only time (if ever) Tynesiders will see Vince McMahon in the city will be when the WWE people arrive at Newcastle Arena for a show in May.
The lack of information even seems to have impacted on journalists. The Sunday Express has been banned from St. James' Park after the club essentially described a story on Pardew being reportedly one game from the sack as made up.
But with no information on what the truth is, this means the rumour mill has been allowed to run wild, spouting all sorts of crackpot theories that may or may not have resemblance to reality at NE1. As well, it means the aura of the club is shrouded in mystery, and just seems that nobody in any capacity has any knowledge of what is going on.
The sooner truth happens one way or another is probably best for all concerned with the Newcastle United fans, commentators and possibly the management, employees and playing squad as well.
Thursday, 13 February 2014
Is Newcastle's Season Now Pointless?
For many Newcastle United supporters, Boxing Day feels a world away now.
After a 5-1 demolishing of (9-man) Stoke City, the Toon sat 6th in the Barclays Premier League table and seemingly well-poised to try and make a push for a return to European football - perhaps even an unlikely Champions League challenge.
Sure, it hadn't been all plain sailing - a random and inexplicable home defeat to Hull City was irritating, while another derby defeat led to agitation for supporters - but it seemed as though there was momentum going for a decent charge.
Even despite defeat by Arsenal three days later, it still seemed on, and that performance did show potential, with a lucky free-kick and awful marking the only division between the two teams.
Had 2014 seem this form maintained, its possible the Toon could be in the fourth place race. But as we all know, this is as far from the case as possible.
So far, 2014 has been a repeated series of kicks in the balls for Magpies fans. The team have only scored in two games this year, been knocked out of the FA Cup by the team that currently sit second-bottom of the Premier League, sold their best player, bought no replacement and seen an unrelenting deterioration of performances across the board.
The one victory so far in 2014 for the Magpies was a superb 3-1 win at West Ham, which was quickly followed by the sale of Yohan Cabaye. Meanwhile all home games so far have not gone so well. The 2-0 home defeat by Manchester City was partially not helped by amateur refereeing and a failure to keep calm in the wake of it, but the 3-0 demolition at home by Sunderland was a horror-show from top to bottom.
That afternoon saw absolutely nothing go right, with no sense of tactics, effort or interest in the clash - something Sunderland duly punished.
Last night's 4-0 catastrophe at home to Spurs was the curdled buttercream icing on the mouldy cake. By the end, there were ridiculous scenes as Spurs players by the bucketload queued up to try and get a goal, with the entire team having seemingly stopped caring.
Apathy seems to be on the rise amongst fans, along with venom and agitation towards the forever-unpopular owner Mike Ashley, and the manager Alan Pardew, with the Pardew-out crowd gaining further traction.
Outsiders to the club think this is harsh, given this is a season that has already yielded away wins at Manchester United and Spurs.
But this is overlooking the continuous PR bollocks he comes up with to help divert attention away from those above, which keeps the party line in check and unquestioned. You get the feeling Pardew may want to actually say more than just that, but this is all that he says - even before questionable tactical choices both before and after Cabaye.
To his credit, they have improved on the 2012-13 season, where Pardew didn't seem to know what he was doing from the word go. After all, it started started with attempts to play Papiss Cisse and Demba Ba in roles where they impeded one another, before reverting to the previous year's tactic with players in differing roles they didn't adjust to, and then on to a wild guesswork of a tactic that almost yielded relegation.
More recently, however, tactics appear not to function as well, while motivation, ambition and attempts to play football don't seem present, or at least present in all the players.
Players are certainly providing problems. Moussa Sissoko seems very little like the galloping midfield presence people first assumed he would be, while Davide Santon has seen all pretence of form collapse. Elsewhere, Cisse is continuing his lack of form, Hatem Ben Arfa has lost his footballing imagination, Vurnon Anita seems swamped without Cheik Tiote, and one clean sheet since Steven Taylor was given starts hints at just how much the injured Fabricio Coloccini is missed.
When even stellar performers like Tim Krul, Mathieu Debuchy and Yoann Gouffran are struggling to have impacts, stuff really is flying in painful batches.
Something is really going wrong badly, and it is reaching the point where, with 12 games to go, there is little riding on Newcastle's season.
This self-destruction means Newcastle are not going anywhere near the European place race, while the accumulation of points in the first half of the campaign means that relegation is a very unlikely option, barring some sort of bizarre conspiracy of results for everyone below and an even more cataclysmic loss of form.
With Europe and relegation unlikely, it means Newcastle are now the only real team stuck in midtable with nowhere to go. This begs the question if the only thing left is simply gliding to the finish line, with little more than obligation riding on the remaining games of the 2013-14 season.
Such a nature will only encourage greater fan apathy and agitation, but as long as the top-half place is guaranteed, and a boycott is not arranged to impact on ticket and merchandise money, then the board clearly will not give a toss.
That is the big tragedy of the season. In December it hinted so much promise that it could be an unexpected special surprise, and under an encouraging board, it could have been. But the current board is the perfect example of one that stifles reaching for the stars, and if the players decide this is enough for them, then next season could be a painful ride.
After a 5-1 demolishing of (9-man) Stoke City, the Toon sat 6th in the Barclays Premier League table and seemingly well-poised to try and make a push for a return to European football - perhaps even an unlikely Champions League challenge.
Sure, it hadn't been all plain sailing - a random and inexplicable home defeat to Hull City was irritating, while another derby defeat led to agitation for supporters - but it seemed as though there was momentum going for a decent charge.
Even despite defeat by Arsenal three days later, it still seemed on, and that performance did show potential, with a lucky free-kick and awful marking the only division between the two teams.
Had 2014 seem this form maintained, its possible the Toon could be in the fourth place race. But as we all know, this is as far from the case as possible.
So far, 2014 has been a repeated series of kicks in the balls for Magpies fans. The team have only scored in two games this year, been knocked out of the FA Cup by the team that currently sit second-bottom of the Premier League, sold their best player, bought no replacement and seen an unrelenting deterioration of performances across the board.
The one victory so far in 2014 for the Magpies was a superb 3-1 win at West Ham, which was quickly followed by the sale of Yohan Cabaye. Meanwhile all home games so far have not gone so well. The 2-0 home defeat by Manchester City was partially not helped by amateur refereeing and a failure to keep calm in the wake of it, but the 3-0 demolition at home by Sunderland was a horror-show from top to bottom.
That afternoon saw absolutely nothing go right, with no sense of tactics, effort or interest in the clash - something Sunderland duly punished.
Last night's 4-0 catastrophe at home to Spurs was the curdled buttercream icing on the mouldy cake. By the end, there were ridiculous scenes as Spurs players by the bucketload queued up to try and get a goal, with the entire team having seemingly stopped caring.
Apathy seems to be on the rise amongst fans, along with venom and agitation towards the forever-unpopular owner Mike Ashley, and the manager Alan Pardew, with the Pardew-out crowd gaining further traction.
Outsiders to the club think this is harsh, given this is a season that has already yielded away wins at Manchester United and Spurs.
But this is overlooking the continuous PR bollocks he comes up with to help divert attention away from those above, which keeps the party line in check and unquestioned. You get the feeling Pardew may want to actually say more than just that, but this is all that he says - even before questionable tactical choices both before and after Cabaye.
To his credit, they have improved on the 2012-13 season, where Pardew didn't seem to know what he was doing from the word go. After all, it started started with attempts to play Papiss Cisse and Demba Ba in roles where they impeded one another, before reverting to the previous year's tactic with players in differing roles they didn't adjust to, and then on to a wild guesswork of a tactic that almost yielded relegation.
More recently, however, tactics appear not to function as well, while motivation, ambition and attempts to play football don't seem present, or at least present in all the players.
Players are certainly providing problems. Moussa Sissoko seems very little like the galloping midfield presence people first assumed he would be, while Davide Santon has seen all pretence of form collapse. Elsewhere, Cisse is continuing his lack of form, Hatem Ben Arfa has lost his footballing imagination, Vurnon Anita seems swamped without Cheik Tiote, and one clean sheet since Steven Taylor was given starts hints at just how much the injured Fabricio Coloccini is missed.
When even stellar performers like Tim Krul, Mathieu Debuchy and Yoann Gouffran are struggling to have impacts, stuff really is flying in painful batches.
Something is really going wrong badly, and it is reaching the point where, with 12 games to go, there is little riding on Newcastle's season.
This self-destruction means Newcastle are not going anywhere near the European place race, while the accumulation of points in the first half of the campaign means that relegation is a very unlikely option, barring some sort of bizarre conspiracy of results for everyone below and an even more cataclysmic loss of form.
With Europe and relegation unlikely, it means Newcastle are now the only real team stuck in midtable with nowhere to go. This begs the question if the only thing left is simply gliding to the finish line, with little more than obligation riding on the remaining games of the 2013-14 season.
Such a nature will only encourage greater fan apathy and agitation, but as long as the top-half place is guaranteed, and a boycott is not arranged to impact on ticket and merchandise money, then the board clearly will not give a toss.
That is the big tragedy of the season. In December it hinted so much promise that it could be an unexpected special surprise, and under an encouraging board, it could have been. But the current board is the perfect example of one that stifles reaching for the stars, and if the players decide this is enough for them, then next season could be a painful ride.
Wednesday, 12 February 2014
Frank Turner at The O2 arena - Live Review
Well who'd have thought, that after all, Frank Turner would wind up playing rooms as big enough as this one?
Granted, the O2 is not fill to bursting, but it is an impressive sign of how much the singer's fanbase has grown through his ridiculous work ethic to the point where he has enough fans to book this room. Not so long ago, Shepherd's Bush Empire was considered a huge gig by this ensemble, yet now, his career has led him to being on this stage in front of one of the biggest audiences the capital can offer.
In a week in which Turner said his ultimate dream would be to one day headline Reading and Leeds Festivals, shows like this are the perfect way to see whether or not he could one day cut it in such in such company as this year's headliners Blink-182 and Arctic Monkeys.
On this example, he certainly looks like he's building something big up.
Its a largely minimal production on display - a tarp of the new album cover and the usual large box of lights. Certainly, there's nothing like the upteem costume changes Taylor Swift managed last night, and nor is there a guest slot from Emelie Sande, though that's not really that bad a thing.
Instead, we get a strong collection of songs from the word go. Turner and his backing band The Sleeping Souls go straight into bat with the pulsing Photosynthesis, one of his biggest-known tunes and one with a majorly catchy hook.
It immediately brings us into the evening's entertainment. There's also early crowd participation as, almost unspoken, the audience crouch down during the song's lull before rising up and dancing madly for the rush into the chorus.
As starts to gigs go, this is an immaculate one. The start keeps going, with a few faster new songs like Plain Sailing Weather and Losing Days interspersed with the oldies Peggy Sang The Blues and the acoustic-punk hurricane of Try This at Home.
Its intriguing to see many people still knowing a number of the oldies, with an early outing for second album song Reasons Not To Be An Idiot getting the bulk of the moshpit moving.
This is followed up by recent hit The Way I Tend To Be, which has still been doing the rounds, and is still a good pop song, or at least the nearest this set strays to such genres.
Following that up is one of the night's highlights, as Turner serenades the venue with a gorgeous solo acoustic version of I Am Disappeared.
That song is an impressive show-off of Turner's solo ability and of his vocal range, as well as providing a good singalong amongst a crowd full of devoted followers.
It also provides a break for Turner's backing band - including two hyperactive fellows on electric guitar/mandolin and bass respectively - who have spent the first part of the show playing their leader's material with lots of passion and energy that helps carry the songs in this enormous cavern of a room.
Their return seems them opt for a double bass - or a wardrobe with strings as Turner quips - for a few run-through of oldies, culminating in a crazy story of Turner being dumped by the subject of the earnest To Take You Home, and a healthy singalong for Wessex Boy.
A few songs down the line sees Turner relinquish guitar during Polaroid Picture, with the string being handed over to understudy Dan Allen, who deputised for Turner on guitar during the 2013 tour after the singer suffered two slipped back disks.
He does well enough to fill in, which also allows for a spot of crowdsurfing and high-fiving the front row during One Foot Before The Other.
And while the heavy-rock version of Long Live the Queen felt oddly flat, there's still big hitters such as The Road, If Ever I Stray and Recovery - the latter of which unites the whole stadium in jumping jacks and dancing - to keep the momentum going.
On paper, the haunting atmospherics of Broken Piano seems a strange choice to end upon, but it works, with drummer Nigel Powell's rhythms bringing the song shuddering to a halt and pyrotechnics also being deployed.
It seemed to have bought the curtain down on a delightful evening, but there's still time for three more songs, starting with a singalong for old tune The Ballad of Me and My Friends and continuing the vocals for the rock n roll salute of I Still Believe.
At first glance, Four Simple Words - a mixture of tumbling piano, heavy rock riff, indie chorus and waltz section - seems a bizarre choice to bring down the curtain for good. But instead, its a wonderful conclusion, and one that suitably bring down the curtain on the evening.
There were certainly a variety of emotions - humour at the odd witty one-liner, empathy, excitement and above all, being impressed Turner has not only made it to a room the size of the O2, but looked at home playing in it.
Certainly, it hints at promise that the rooms Turner books to accommodate his increasing-in-size fanbase might need to be bigger. Or at least that he could completely fill all the seats in this house.
4/5
This show had two opening support acts of long-time friends of Turner. First on was acoustic act Beans of Toast, comprised of a solo singer who regaled the crowd with a brief set of songs that did well to combine comedy, real world facts and interesting political points.
He was followed on stage by Celtic seven-piece Flogging Molly, who bought up a consistently fast tempo and an impressive number of songs that fully utilised their array of instruments to supplement the core guitar-bass-drums configuration. The band certainly get kudos for being possibly the first act to perform a show at the O2 arena introduced by a tin whistle solo.
Granted, the O2 is not fill to bursting, but it is an impressive sign of how much the singer's fanbase has grown through his ridiculous work ethic to the point where he has enough fans to book this room. Not so long ago, Shepherd's Bush Empire was considered a huge gig by this ensemble, yet now, his career has led him to being on this stage in front of one of the biggest audiences the capital can offer.
In a week in which Turner said his ultimate dream would be to one day headline Reading and Leeds Festivals, shows like this are the perfect way to see whether or not he could one day cut it in such in such company as this year's headliners Blink-182 and Arctic Monkeys.
On this example, he certainly looks like he's building something big up.
Its a largely minimal production on display - a tarp of the new album cover and the usual large box of lights. Certainly, there's nothing like the upteem costume changes Taylor Swift managed last night, and nor is there a guest slot from Emelie Sande, though that's not really that bad a thing.
Instead, we get a strong collection of songs from the word go. Turner and his backing band The Sleeping Souls go straight into bat with the pulsing Photosynthesis, one of his biggest-known tunes and one with a majorly catchy hook.
It immediately brings us into the evening's entertainment. There's also early crowd participation as, almost unspoken, the audience crouch down during the song's lull before rising up and dancing madly for the rush into the chorus.
As starts to gigs go, this is an immaculate one. The start keeps going, with a few faster new songs like Plain Sailing Weather and Losing Days interspersed with the oldies Peggy Sang The Blues and the acoustic-punk hurricane of Try This at Home.
Its intriguing to see many people still knowing a number of the oldies, with an early outing for second album song Reasons Not To Be An Idiot getting the bulk of the moshpit moving.
This is followed up by recent hit The Way I Tend To Be, which has still been doing the rounds, and is still a good pop song, or at least the nearest this set strays to such genres.
Following that up is one of the night's highlights, as Turner serenades the venue with a gorgeous solo acoustic version of I Am Disappeared.
That song is an impressive show-off of Turner's solo ability and of his vocal range, as well as providing a good singalong amongst a crowd full of devoted followers.
It also provides a break for Turner's backing band - including two hyperactive fellows on electric guitar/mandolin and bass respectively - who have spent the first part of the show playing their leader's material with lots of passion and energy that helps carry the songs in this enormous cavern of a room.
Their return seems them opt for a double bass - or a wardrobe with strings as Turner quips - for a few run-through of oldies, culminating in a crazy story of Turner being dumped by the subject of the earnest To Take You Home, and a healthy singalong for Wessex Boy.
A few songs down the line sees Turner relinquish guitar during Polaroid Picture, with the string being handed over to understudy Dan Allen, who deputised for Turner on guitar during the 2013 tour after the singer suffered two slipped back disks.
He does well enough to fill in, which also allows for a spot of crowdsurfing and high-fiving the front row during One Foot Before The Other.
And while the heavy-rock version of Long Live the Queen felt oddly flat, there's still big hitters such as The Road, If Ever I Stray and Recovery - the latter of which unites the whole stadium in jumping jacks and dancing - to keep the momentum going.
On paper, the haunting atmospherics of Broken Piano seems a strange choice to end upon, but it works, with drummer Nigel Powell's rhythms bringing the song shuddering to a halt and pyrotechnics also being deployed.
It seemed to have bought the curtain down on a delightful evening, but there's still time for three more songs, starting with a singalong for old tune The Ballad of Me and My Friends and continuing the vocals for the rock n roll salute of I Still Believe.
At first glance, Four Simple Words - a mixture of tumbling piano, heavy rock riff, indie chorus and waltz section - seems a bizarre choice to bring down the curtain for good. But instead, its a wonderful conclusion, and one that suitably bring down the curtain on the evening.
There were certainly a variety of emotions - humour at the odd witty one-liner, empathy, excitement and above all, being impressed Turner has not only made it to a room the size of the O2, but looked at home playing in it.
Certainly, it hints at promise that the rooms Turner books to accommodate his increasing-in-size fanbase might need to be bigger. Or at least that he could completely fill all the seats in this house.
4/5
This show had two opening support acts of long-time friends of Turner. First on was acoustic act Beans of Toast, comprised of a solo singer who regaled the crowd with a brief set of songs that did well to combine comedy, real world facts and interesting political points.
He was followed on stage by Celtic seven-piece Flogging Molly, who bought up a consistently fast tempo and an impressive number of songs that fully utilised their array of instruments to supplement the core guitar-bass-drums configuration. The band certainly get kudos for being possibly the first act to perform a show at the O2 arena introduced by a tin whistle solo.
Monday, 27 January 2014
Do Transfers Always Have to be a Problem?
It seems that Newcastle and transfer windows don't mix, with the window a seeming invitation to plunder the Magpies starting eleven of its best talents.
So far, its not always worked this way. While the infamous decision to sell Andy Carroll for a British record transfer fee on deadline day is obviously remembered, the bulk of the Magpies' stars have remained. The only cash outgoings recently have seen James Perch sold for £750K and Demba Ba's idiotic release clause cashed in on.
But January 2014 has certainly woken up with a problem for Magpies fans hopeful they would retain the star names. This has even come despite it appearing they'd ridden out the potential departure storm.
There's no denying the team has importance on the form and availability of Yohan Cabaye. The playmaker's two goals in his man-of-the-match display at West Ham were of humungous quality, while his influence in attack is keenly felt. Moreso than that of Hatem Ben Arfa, who can delight and frustrate in equal measure.
It was obvious such a cutting edge of attacking football would attract buyer's attention. A derisory offer from Arsenal in August was rejected and the Gunners refused to pay the £25M asking price, while interest from David Moyes' flailing Manchester United has still been reported, despite the recent £37M of Juan Mata and more money being forked upon the weekly cash palette Wayne Rooney hoovers up and spends on magic beans. Probably.
What's most annoying about the likelihood of him moving to Paris is how much talk there has been of him not moving there. At the start of January, Paris Saint-Germain denied interest in Cabaye. There has also been talk that star PSG players like Ibrahimovic and Thiago Silva want Roma midfielder Miralem Pjanic instead of Cabaye, and that PSG are also more interested in acquiring Juventus midfielder Paul Pogba.
Yet despite this, it looks as though Cabaye is off to PSG anyway. A derisory £14M bid had been initially rejected, which then has sent the club into panic stations, with Pardew admitting he is helpless to prevent an exit if Kinnear sanctions one.
Pardew has also said nobody wants him to leave, which is the exact tone a team with players that have played in the Champions League and ideally should be chasing these places should be going for.
Evidently, £19M-25M is his reported fee to allow him to go. This maybe in line with his valuation, but it is especially irritating at this time of year to allow a talented player that has become the cornerstone of the club's attack to depart with seemingly no replacement lined up.
People have been justifying this by saying a new replacement can be sourced, but time is hardly on the side. Even then, there is lots of skepticism and doubt at the board's willingness to spend big bucks on any possible replacement. The fact it took eight months and a relegation for QPR to even sign Loic Remy on loan is fairly indicative of the mess that is the club's recruitment policy, while there is little to no suggestion Kinnear has even approached any potential targets' parent clubs.
There is little to no trust in the regime at St. James' Park, which took 2 years to fully spend the Carroll cash on new players and in an atmosphere where fans don't know who will be in the forwards roster for the pitch next season, for one example.
Few fans expect Loic Remy to stay beyond the end of the campaign, while Shola Ameobi is out of contract and the almost-permanently out-of-form Papiss Cisse is being linked with moves to Qatar.
Throw in a Cabaye replacement and it gets worrying, not least given the regime's track record. Its arguable that had Cisse joined in the summer of 2011, we would have made the Champions League and still have a fair penny to bolster a squad so we could convincingly challenge for a top four finish.
Alas, even though we only sit seven points off 4th place Liverpool, we seem to have given up on the ambition of even making the Europa League, content to take a top 8 spot. Some fans may view the Europa League as a booby prize, not least given the awful 2012-13 season and a similarly poor campaign currently being experienced by Swansea City.
Eighth spot is certainly better than the relegation battle some pessimistic fans had dreaded way back in August after a Cabaye-less 4-0 hammering by Man City on the opening day. But it reeks of a lack of ambition, as the club should be building for greater things than to simply hoover up the Premier League TV cash.
We've already beaten Chelsea, Spurs and Manchester United this season, as well as nicking a point off Liverpool and running Arsenal and Manchester City close. So the framework is there for a team that should be aiming to challenge for a top 6 spot at least. Instead, we seem content to fall back and coast until May, where another star will doubtless be cashed in upon and leave us in trouble for 2014-15.
If no replacement is signed it robs the attack of fluidity, which is a horrible idea in the wake of the upcoming Tyne-Wear Derby - a match which Pardew cannot afford to lose after being beaten in his last two encounters against the Black Cats. Defeat there will probably instigate yet another miserable sequence for the manager, who saw the team fall into an almost fatal tailspin after Paolo di Canio's moment in the sun last April.
Given the chances of this suddenly increasing, he is an utter madman for letting this happen again. But now we'll see what he's made of, and chances are its not going to be a pretty sight. If Chris Hughton leads a limited Norwich City side to victory tomorrow night, then an already sombre mood will probably reach its usual bombastic levels of negativity.
That's not to say Cabaye can be blamed - if he wanted to move to Paris to join a team rated as among the favourites for the Champions League title, its hardly fair to stop him. But it is depressing it comes to this, and once again leaves us a mere window at what might have been and at the fact the team is going to be an underwhelming relation to the one that tore up West Ham barely a week and a half ago.
So far, its not always worked this way. While the infamous decision to sell Andy Carroll for a British record transfer fee on deadline day is obviously remembered, the bulk of the Magpies' stars have remained. The only cash outgoings recently have seen James Perch sold for £750K and Demba Ba's idiotic release clause cashed in on.
But January 2014 has certainly woken up with a problem for Magpies fans hopeful they would retain the star names. This has even come despite it appearing they'd ridden out the potential departure storm.
There's no denying the team has importance on the form and availability of Yohan Cabaye. The playmaker's two goals in his man-of-the-match display at West Ham were of humungous quality, while his influence in attack is keenly felt. Moreso than that of Hatem Ben Arfa, who can delight and frustrate in equal measure.
It was obvious such a cutting edge of attacking football would attract buyer's attention. A derisory offer from Arsenal in August was rejected and the Gunners refused to pay the £25M asking price, while interest from David Moyes' flailing Manchester United has still been reported, despite the recent £37M of Juan Mata and more money being forked upon the weekly cash palette Wayne Rooney hoovers up and spends on magic beans. Probably.
What's most annoying about the likelihood of him moving to Paris is how much talk there has been of him not moving there. At the start of January, Paris Saint-Germain denied interest in Cabaye. There has also been talk that star PSG players like Ibrahimovic and Thiago Silva want Roma midfielder Miralem Pjanic instead of Cabaye, and that PSG are also more interested in acquiring Juventus midfielder Paul Pogba.
Yet despite this, it looks as though Cabaye is off to PSG anyway. A derisory £14M bid had been initially rejected, which then has sent the club into panic stations, with Pardew admitting he is helpless to prevent an exit if Kinnear sanctions one.
Pardew has also said nobody wants him to leave, which is the exact tone a team with players that have played in the Champions League and ideally should be chasing these places should be going for.
Evidently, £19M-25M is his reported fee to allow him to go. This maybe in line with his valuation, but it is especially irritating at this time of year to allow a talented player that has become the cornerstone of the club's attack to depart with seemingly no replacement lined up.
People have been justifying this by saying a new replacement can be sourced, but time is hardly on the side. Even then, there is lots of skepticism and doubt at the board's willingness to spend big bucks on any possible replacement. The fact it took eight months and a relegation for QPR to even sign Loic Remy on loan is fairly indicative of the mess that is the club's recruitment policy, while there is little to no suggestion Kinnear has even approached any potential targets' parent clubs.
There is little to no trust in the regime at St. James' Park, which took 2 years to fully spend the Carroll cash on new players and in an atmosphere where fans don't know who will be in the forwards roster for the pitch next season, for one example.
Few fans expect Loic Remy to stay beyond the end of the campaign, while Shola Ameobi is out of contract and the almost-permanently out-of-form Papiss Cisse is being linked with moves to Qatar.
Throw in a Cabaye replacement and it gets worrying, not least given the regime's track record. Its arguable that had Cisse joined in the summer of 2011, we would have made the Champions League and still have a fair penny to bolster a squad so we could convincingly challenge for a top four finish.
Alas, even though we only sit seven points off 4th place Liverpool, we seem to have given up on the ambition of even making the Europa League, content to take a top 8 spot. Some fans may view the Europa League as a booby prize, not least given the awful 2012-13 season and a similarly poor campaign currently being experienced by Swansea City.
Eighth spot is certainly better than the relegation battle some pessimistic fans had dreaded way back in August after a Cabaye-less 4-0 hammering by Man City on the opening day. But it reeks of a lack of ambition, as the club should be building for greater things than to simply hoover up the Premier League TV cash.
We've already beaten Chelsea, Spurs and Manchester United this season, as well as nicking a point off Liverpool and running Arsenal and Manchester City close. So the framework is there for a team that should be aiming to challenge for a top 6 spot at least. Instead, we seem content to fall back and coast until May, where another star will doubtless be cashed in upon and leave us in trouble for 2014-15.
If no replacement is signed it robs the attack of fluidity, which is a horrible idea in the wake of the upcoming Tyne-Wear Derby - a match which Pardew cannot afford to lose after being beaten in his last two encounters against the Black Cats. Defeat there will probably instigate yet another miserable sequence for the manager, who saw the team fall into an almost fatal tailspin after Paolo di Canio's moment in the sun last April.
Given the chances of this suddenly increasing, he is an utter madman for letting this happen again. But now we'll see what he's made of, and chances are its not going to be a pretty sight. If Chris Hughton leads a limited Norwich City side to victory tomorrow night, then an already sombre mood will probably reach its usual bombastic levels of negativity.
That's not to say Cabaye can be blamed - if he wanted to move to Paris to join a team rated as among the favourites for the Champions League title, its hardly fair to stop him. But it is depressing it comes to this, and once again leaves us a mere window at what might have been and at the fact the team is going to be an underwhelming relation to the one that tore up West Ham barely a week and a half ago.
Wednesday, 22 January 2014
The Wolf of Wall Street - Film Review
In an interview, film star Michael Douglas mentioned a number of the bankers responsible for the economic crisis took his character Gordon Gekko as an inspiration for their day-to-day work.
This is a curious effect of this film. While most of the audience of the film will have seen it as it was intended by the initial auteurs - as a satirical condemnation of 1980s money-worship culture - it ended up being celebrated by those in the industry being condemned, meaning that its possible that Douglas and Charlie Sheen, by accident, created the mindset behind the 2007 financial industry collapse that has ruined the world economy for generations.
Many decades on and another film starring one of the leading lights of Hollywood is being accused of glamorising the reckless excess of Wall Street bankers again, albeit among other things.
The Wolf of Wall Street is based upon the literary works of Jordan Belfort, who was one of the biggest financial conmen in 1990s America. His firm Stratton Oakmont dabbled in cheap, over-the-counter stock that was essentially worthless, along with dabbling in securities fraud and financial corruption.
In some ways, Leonardo diCaprio hasn't really had to change too much from his last film role - the title role of The Great Gatsby. He's still throwing decadent parties, flashing cash like its going out of fashion and attracting attention of clientele beyond his social circle.
But its highly unlikely Gatsby made his money through these sort of mannerisms, or spent it in such an outlandish way.
If the financial jargon behind his accumulated wealth means nothing to those not from a Wall Street or City of London background, there's plenty of bizarre but spectacular monuments to excess here for your entertainment. This is the possibly one of the wildest film rides possible, given its a veritable smorgasbord of crashed yachts, sports cars and helicopters, sex, alcohol, a wide variety of drugs, sellotaping money to prostitutes, $26,000 lunches, bins full of discarded $100 notes, naked marching bands, skating chimpanzees and even dwarf-throwing competitions in just an ordinary week for Belfort.
It almost feels like watching this movie is getting you high, and it worryingly makes being an amoral financial shark look a lot of fun, which is probably why Goldman Sachs bankers cheered Belfort's descent into debauchery.
Its also probably why there's been a debate about the movie's lack of moral compass. In America, this film has largely attracted a conservative viewership, who are not exactly the ones that are going to be impressed by the perception of Wall Street traders snorting coke off prostitute's arses, for one example. This excess - not to mention a record use of the word "fuck" for a non-documentary film - also probably explains the 45 minute cut and dialogue bleeping in Dubai showings, or the outright ban it received in others Muslim countries.
The first part of the film is basically a dip in this world where a moral compass is irrelevant to proceedings. Hell, the first 10 minutes sees us meet him at the height of his bastard powers. His team embark in dwarf throwing as end-of-day entertainment, he has a glamourous wife that performs sex acts on him while he drives a lurid white Ferrari, makes $49M a year and owns a huge estate on Long Island.
The film then backs up a bit to the beginning of proceedings, where he arrives in New York a wide-eyed optimistic 22-year-old with dreams of wealth. Having impressed his boss, his new head Mark Hanna (Matthew McConaughey) takes him out to lunch where he says the secret to Wall Street success is constant drugs and sex. Not that it does his boss any good - Belfort's is barely weeks into the job when the firm is hit by Black Monday, where the Dow Jones suffers its biggest fall since the 1929 stock market crash and stockbrokers are laid off by the bucketload.
Broke and lost, Belfort is encouraged towards a job at a small financial firm by his first wife Teresa (Cristin Milloti). This firm turns out to be selling penny stocks, and Belfort's Wall Street aggression leads him to earning a fortune.
He befriends furniture salesman Donnie Azoff (Jonah Hill), and together they decide to break away and form their own company using Azoff's pot-dealing mates. Before long, the firm becomes massively successful using Belfort's brand of mass selling to pressure investors into parting with their cash.
Before long, Stratton Oakmont has an enormous office. Belfort and his associates become addicted to a wide variety of drugs, including cocaine and Quaaludes, and holding increasingly-debauched parties in both their offices and their personal lives. A staff getaway by the beach turns into an orgy of excess, and eventually leads to Belfort meeting his future second bridge Naomi (Margot Robbie).
They quickly move into a life of marriage together - after a predictably over-the-top bachelor weekend - and before long have a kid together. Even despite his continual cavorting with a barrel-load of hookers.
This film is not for the faint-hearted. There are so many naked women that before long seeing one with clothes is a novelty, while the film contains so many graphic and absurdly frequent depictions of drug abuse. The best moments come later on, such as a riotous show of drug-fuelled insanity on a flight to Switzerland and a sequence where Belfort and Azoff take expired but pungent Quaaludes, which leads to sensational high acting that is borderline offensive.
Despite this fun, the quick rise and nature of Stratton has led to government attention, not least from a Forbes magazine article that dubbed Belfort "a twisted Robin Hood-like figure". The Securities and Exchange Commission, and the FBI are both conducting investigations. Belfort doesn't help by trying to wine-and-dine lead FBI agent Patrick Denham (Kyle Chandler) on his private yacht, which leads to him content to throw hundreds of dollars at him and his associate as they walk off.
Even with investigations, the Stratton fun continues, and they lead the IPO of shoe maker Steve Madden. This leads to Belfort pocketing $22million personally, which he opts to hide in a Swiss bank account under the name of his wife's English aunt Emma (Joanna Lumley).
Lumley is but one of the absurd wealth of actors that pop in-and-out of the main storyline. Rob Reiner is delightful as Belfort's dad, while Jean Dujardin is impressive as Belfort's corrupt Swiss banking associate, and the legion of men following Belfort's lead are all exceptionally committed to bulking up the cast and ploy of a firm that had, at its real-life height, over 1,000 stockbrokers.
Yet knowledge of such a stellar cast-list, not to mention his own outstanding performance, can save Belfort from the scope of the authorities. He is arrested for crashing his car while high, although is able to evade charges on a technicality and - somehow - escapes death, so decides to go on a yacthing holiday with Azoff and their wives to Italy.
This, however, is where things begin to turn to shit for Belfort, with the death of Emma leaving him on a mad dash to try and get the money out of his Swiss bank account, only for the boat to capsize and the plane to explode.
From here is a tonal change, as Belfort becomes more detestable and more desperate, as the FBI slowly hunts the wolf down. Eventually, he cracks, ripping open his sofa to grab at a stash of coke after 2 years sober and engaging in awful and pointless domestic violence. This sequence is certainly very uncompromising, and reveals the point where the humour stops.
But the most surprising thing about the end sequence is not the betrayal of his employees, the piss-easy jail term or the fact he still managed to abscond with the bulk of the cash. Its that he is now, in the final scene, using the selling techniques he used to build Stratton Oakmont to teach the wannabee financial sellers of tomorrow.
This is the biggest satirical point of the movie. It highlights the fact men who made fortunes from such a diabolically evil philosophy are now using these techniques to create the financial personalities of tomorrow, and with it, breed new destructive and amoral bastards for a business that is hardly short of them to begin with.
Its impressive to see a film cover such bases throughout its time span, which in a way justifies such a mammoth running time. It revels in the excess of the financial riches Belfort swindles his way towards, depicts the hunt where the bad guy becomes unstuck, and has a point to make about the ruthless worship of cash. But most of all, its funny.
Its impressive just how consistently amusing the film is throughout its process, and it has a fair number of impressively absurd set-pieces that deliver some massively hilarious pay-offs.
If you want a film that subtly explains how it came to be that the financial world became a culture for amoral bastards that were able to destroy the world economy and (largely) get away with it, this is not for you. But if you want a fun ride through this financial culture filled with moments of hilarity and almost constant excess, step right up.
4/5
This is a curious effect of this film. While most of the audience of the film will have seen it as it was intended by the initial auteurs - as a satirical condemnation of 1980s money-worship culture - it ended up being celebrated by those in the industry being condemned, meaning that its possible that Douglas and Charlie Sheen, by accident, created the mindset behind the 2007 financial industry collapse that has ruined the world economy for generations.
Many decades on and another film starring one of the leading lights of Hollywood is being accused of glamorising the reckless excess of Wall Street bankers again, albeit among other things.
The Wolf of Wall Street is based upon the literary works of Jordan Belfort, who was one of the biggest financial conmen in 1990s America. His firm Stratton Oakmont dabbled in cheap, over-the-counter stock that was essentially worthless, along with dabbling in securities fraud and financial corruption.
In some ways, Leonardo diCaprio hasn't really had to change too much from his last film role - the title role of The Great Gatsby. He's still throwing decadent parties, flashing cash like its going out of fashion and attracting attention of clientele beyond his social circle.
But its highly unlikely Gatsby made his money through these sort of mannerisms, or spent it in such an outlandish way.
If the financial jargon behind his accumulated wealth means nothing to those not from a Wall Street or City of London background, there's plenty of bizarre but spectacular monuments to excess here for your entertainment. This is the possibly one of the wildest film rides possible, given its a veritable smorgasbord of crashed yachts, sports cars and helicopters, sex, alcohol, a wide variety of drugs, sellotaping money to prostitutes, $26,000 lunches, bins full of discarded $100 notes, naked marching bands, skating chimpanzees and even dwarf-throwing competitions in just an ordinary week for Belfort.
It almost feels like watching this movie is getting you high, and it worryingly makes being an amoral financial shark look a lot of fun, which is probably why Goldman Sachs bankers cheered Belfort's descent into debauchery.
Its also probably why there's been a debate about the movie's lack of moral compass. In America, this film has largely attracted a conservative viewership, who are not exactly the ones that are going to be impressed by the perception of Wall Street traders snorting coke off prostitute's arses, for one example. This excess - not to mention a record use of the word "fuck" for a non-documentary film - also probably explains the 45 minute cut and dialogue bleeping in Dubai showings, or the outright ban it received in others Muslim countries.
The first part of the film is basically a dip in this world where a moral compass is irrelevant to proceedings. Hell, the first 10 minutes sees us meet him at the height of his bastard powers. His team embark in dwarf throwing as end-of-day entertainment, he has a glamourous wife that performs sex acts on him while he drives a lurid white Ferrari, makes $49M a year and owns a huge estate on Long Island.
The film then backs up a bit to the beginning of proceedings, where he arrives in New York a wide-eyed optimistic 22-year-old with dreams of wealth. Having impressed his boss, his new head Mark Hanna (Matthew McConaughey) takes him out to lunch where he says the secret to Wall Street success is constant drugs and sex. Not that it does his boss any good - Belfort's is barely weeks into the job when the firm is hit by Black Monday, where the Dow Jones suffers its biggest fall since the 1929 stock market crash and stockbrokers are laid off by the bucketload.
Broke and lost, Belfort is encouraged towards a job at a small financial firm by his first wife Teresa (Cristin Milloti). This firm turns out to be selling penny stocks, and Belfort's Wall Street aggression leads him to earning a fortune.
He befriends furniture salesman Donnie Azoff (Jonah Hill), and together they decide to break away and form their own company using Azoff's pot-dealing mates. Before long, the firm becomes massively successful using Belfort's brand of mass selling to pressure investors into parting with their cash.
Before long, Stratton Oakmont has an enormous office. Belfort and his associates become addicted to a wide variety of drugs, including cocaine and Quaaludes, and holding increasingly-debauched parties in both their offices and their personal lives. A staff getaway by the beach turns into an orgy of excess, and eventually leads to Belfort meeting his future second bridge Naomi (Margot Robbie).
They quickly move into a life of marriage together - after a predictably over-the-top bachelor weekend - and before long have a kid together. Even despite his continual cavorting with a barrel-load of hookers.
This film is not for the faint-hearted. There are so many naked women that before long seeing one with clothes is a novelty, while the film contains so many graphic and absurdly frequent depictions of drug abuse. The best moments come later on, such as a riotous show of drug-fuelled insanity on a flight to Switzerland and a sequence where Belfort and Azoff take expired but pungent Quaaludes, which leads to sensational high acting that is borderline offensive.
Despite this fun, the quick rise and nature of Stratton has led to government attention, not least from a Forbes magazine article that dubbed Belfort "a twisted Robin Hood-like figure". The Securities and Exchange Commission, and the FBI are both conducting investigations. Belfort doesn't help by trying to wine-and-dine lead FBI agent Patrick Denham (Kyle Chandler) on his private yacht, which leads to him content to throw hundreds of dollars at him and his associate as they walk off.
Even with investigations, the Stratton fun continues, and they lead the IPO of shoe maker Steve Madden. This leads to Belfort pocketing $22million personally, which he opts to hide in a Swiss bank account under the name of his wife's English aunt Emma (Joanna Lumley).
Lumley is but one of the absurd wealth of actors that pop in-and-out of the main storyline. Rob Reiner is delightful as Belfort's dad, while Jean Dujardin is impressive as Belfort's corrupt Swiss banking associate, and the legion of men following Belfort's lead are all exceptionally committed to bulking up the cast and ploy of a firm that had, at its real-life height, over 1,000 stockbrokers.
Yet knowledge of such a stellar cast-list, not to mention his own outstanding performance, can save Belfort from the scope of the authorities. He is arrested for crashing his car while high, although is able to evade charges on a technicality and - somehow - escapes death, so decides to go on a yacthing holiday with Azoff and their wives to Italy.
This, however, is where things begin to turn to shit for Belfort, with the death of Emma leaving him on a mad dash to try and get the money out of his Swiss bank account, only for the boat to capsize and the plane to explode.
From here is a tonal change, as Belfort becomes more detestable and more desperate, as the FBI slowly hunts the wolf down. Eventually, he cracks, ripping open his sofa to grab at a stash of coke after 2 years sober and engaging in awful and pointless domestic violence. This sequence is certainly very uncompromising, and reveals the point where the humour stops.
But the most surprising thing about the end sequence is not the betrayal of his employees, the piss-easy jail term or the fact he still managed to abscond with the bulk of the cash. Its that he is now, in the final scene, using the selling techniques he used to build Stratton Oakmont to teach the wannabee financial sellers of tomorrow.
This is the biggest satirical point of the movie. It highlights the fact men who made fortunes from such a diabolically evil philosophy are now using these techniques to create the financial personalities of tomorrow, and with it, breed new destructive and amoral bastards for a business that is hardly short of them to begin with.
Its impressive to see a film cover such bases throughout its time span, which in a way justifies such a mammoth running time. It revels in the excess of the financial riches Belfort swindles his way towards, depicts the hunt where the bad guy becomes unstuck, and has a point to make about the ruthless worship of cash. But most of all, its funny.
Its impressive just how consistently amusing the film is throughout its process, and it has a fair number of impressively absurd set-pieces that deliver some massively hilarious pay-offs.
If you want a film that subtly explains how it came to be that the financial world became a culture for amoral bastards that were able to destroy the world economy and (largely) get away with it, this is not for you. But if you want a fun ride through this financial culture filled with moments of hilarity and almost constant excess, step right up.
4/5
Sunday, 12 January 2014
Sherlock - Season 3 Episode 3 Review
With Sherlock coming to an end after three episodes, the questions have been asked: where are the convincing villains?
The first episode was largely about the rekindling of the Sherlock-Watson relationship, and ultimately hitched to a stop-the-bomb plot with an enemy of impressively poor ability to construct a bomb. The second episode, by contrast, was almost a stand-up comedy show with a Cluedo-style pay-off where the photographer did it.
This one is more convincing, with the steely Charles Augustus Magnussen (Lars Mikkelsen) wandering into the field of play. With basis in real-life media personalities, serial blackmailers and Bond villains, there's a lot more conviction in they enemy, and somebody to counterpoint its excellent titular sleuth (Benedict Cumberbatch) and associate (Martin Freeman).
But this is not the only enemy at play, and a surprise one thrown into the mix to disrupt the equilibrium set up here. It also works out the intricate long game that has been played by the scriptwriters.
We begin with the appearance that, for inspiration, the BBC scriptwriters have been watching the news in preparation for this one. The opening sequence is an eerie satirical rendition of the 2011 meeting between Rupert Murdoch and the MP's Home Affairs Select Committee, with the magnate Magnussen conducting an impressive run-through on how to take out the people opposite the table.
But it then follows itself on with the further continuation of the main target of the hearing with his attempts to stalk the MPs involved.
This is some of the sinister satirical bite the writers are more capable of, and had been missing at times from the other episodes earlier in this season when they were busy having Sherlock on the piss... although that was amusing in fairness.
The amusing quips and occasional side-lines appear here and there, but aren't as full-on. This time, however, there is a more coherent and solid plot to back them up.
Our introduction to Sherlock sees him hiding out in a drug den after Watson and his wife Mary (Amanda Abbington) had somehow stumbled across him. This is initially attempted to be a ruse, so as to attract the media magnate with a phony drug habit
This eventually sees a return to 221B Baker's Street, where Mycroft (Mark Gatiss) is helping an intervention only to be warned away from his bathroom, and ends with him sternly warning his brother from his pursuing the case.
Like a moth to a flame, this attracts Magnussen, who struggles to find a focus point to badger Sherlock with, but chooses to make a mark on him by pissing in his fireplace anyway.
This leads to an attempt to raid his London office, via manipulation of his PA Janine (Louise Brealey), who Sherlock has developed his own relationship with after meeting her last week.
But here, the plot diverges and takes on surprising twists.
Rather than finding a dominant man behind a desk surrounded by henchman, bodyguards and protecting assassins, Sherlock finds one person - namely Mary, who has a gun to his head. She duly shoots Sherlock when Holmes tries to blow everything.
This divergence and detour also takes us on a tour through the exquisitely-realised mind palace of Sherlock Holmes, as he attempts to escape death by this shot, taking in a whirlwind of names throughout the series, including the ghost of the long-deceased Moriaty (Andrew Scott).
Having blown open the Mary character arc, it sets about trying to set up a meeting that blows the mirage, via a resuscitation for Mr. Holmes - the second time he's cheated death already this year, which is an achievement in itself.
The domestic arguments are restrained, which is a shame as it would have been interesting to fully explore the depths her character has really made with the duo really in the room. There's a reveal an abandoned house, and an argument around the fire at Christmas time.
But the revelations aren't far away from appearing. It takes a full dive into the vaults of Magnussen to even glimpse at the truth that lurks beneath this character's surface, and create his mental make-up.
It also reveals, by and large, a villain that has many of the roots that make up Sherlock. Just like Mr. Holmes, he is in charge of an enormous range mental of capabilities and has most of the sociopathic tendencies that are the essence of Sherlock.
It ends seemingly with a huge problem for the detective, as Mr. Holmes is held captive and trapped after falling into Magnussen's intricately weighted one.
Suddenly, there comes the get-out clause super-villains fall into regularly, and an even more well-worked way to get him out of his charge. The pro's of relations in high places, probably.
There's a better sense of conviction here, as if it now knows kind of programme it wanted to be when it returned for its third season, as it seems the titular character is heading for a sunset far away from his investigative partner.
It seems like that was going to be that. But even after impressively utilising the first two episodes' seeds to create a marvellous plot that surpasses all the other episodes of this year, there's still time for another ace to be pulled from their sleeve.
An impressive manipulation of the end-credits has certainly provided the next season with a potentially inviting set-up, as well as giving an important plot point from which to build this series from.
As well as providing another "back from the dead" scenario, the show's favourite villain gets another chance to perfect his evil mannerisms, not to mention the covert homoeroticism which has so far yielded a lot of fans.
The next year will see plenty of online speculation as to just how Moriarty survived, or indeed, if he's simply pulling a trick from beyond the grave. But it'll be interesting to see what this is...
With confirmation series four is already planned out, all we can do is wait and see how he can gets out of this rather impressively worked tight spot.
Your move, Moffat...
4.5/5
The first episode was largely about the rekindling of the Sherlock-Watson relationship, and ultimately hitched to a stop-the-bomb plot with an enemy of impressively poor ability to construct a bomb. The second episode, by contrast, was almost a stand-up comedy show with a Cluedo-style pay-off where the photographer did it.
This one is more convincing, with the steely Charles Augustus Magnussen (Lars Mikkelsen) wandering into the field of play. With basis in real-life media personalities, serial blackmailers and Bond villains, there's a lot more conviction in they enemy, and somebody to counterpoint its excellent titular sleuth (Benedict Cumberbatch) and associate (Martin Freeman).
But this is not the only enemy at play, and a surprise one thrown into the mix to disrupt the equilibrium set up here. It also works out the intricate long game that has been played by the scriptwriters.
We begin with the appearance that, for inspiration, the BBC scriptwriters have been watching the news in preparation for this one. The opening sequence is an eerie satirical rendition of the 2011 meeting between Rupert Murdoch and the MP's Home Affairs Select Committee, with the magnate Magnussen conducting an impressive run-through on how to take out the people opposite the table.
But it then follows itself on with the further continuation of the main target of the hearing with his attempts to stalk the MPs involved.
This is some of the sinister satirical bite the writers are more capable of, and had been missing at times from the other episodes earlier in this season when they were busy having Sherlock on the piss... although that was amusing in fairness.
The amusing quips and occasional side-lines appear here and there, but aren't as full-on. This time, however, there is a more coherent and solid plot to back them up.
Our introduction to Sherlock sees him hiding out in a drug den after Watson and his wife Mary (Amanda Abbington) had somehow stumbled across him. This is initially attempted to be a ruse, so as to attract the media magnate with a phony drug habit
This eventually sees a return to 221B Baker's Street, where Mycroft (Mark Gatiss) is helping an intervention only to be warned away from his bathroom, and ends with him sternly warning his brother from his pursuing the case.
Like a moth to a flame, this attracts Magnussen, who struggles to find a focus point to badger Sherlock with, but chooses to make a mark on him by pissing in his fireplace anyway.
This leads to an attempt to raid his London office, via manipulation of his PA Janine (Louise Brealey), who Sherlock has developed his own relationship with after meeting her last week.
But here, the plot diverges and takes on surprising twists.
Rather than finding a dominant man behind a desk surrounded by henchman, bodyguards and protecting assassins, Sherlock finds one person - namely Mary, who has a gun to his head. She duly shoots Sherlock when Holmes tries to blow everything.
This divergence and detour also takes us on a tour through the exquisitely-realised mind palace of Sherlock Holmes, as he attempts to escape death by this shot, taking in a whirlwind of names throughout the series, including the ghost of the long-deceased Moriaty (Andrew Scott).
Having blown open the Mary character arc, it sets about trying to set up a meeting that blows the mirage, via a resuscitation for Mr. Holmes - the second time he's cheated death already this year, which is an achievement in itself.
The domestic arguments are restrained, which is a shame as it would have been interesting to fully explore the depths her character has really made with the duo really in the room. There's a reveal an abandoned house, and an argument around the fire at Christmas time.
But the revelations aren't far away from appearing. It takes a full dive into the vaults of Magnussen to even glimpse at the truth that lurks beneath this character's surface, and create his mental make-up.
It also reveals, by and large, a villain that has many of the roots that make up Sherlock. Just like Mr. Holmes, he is in charge of an enormous range mental of capabilities and has most of the sociopathic tendencies that are the essence of Sherlock.
It ends seemingly with a huge problem for the detective, as Mr. Holmes is held captive and trapped after falling into Magnussen's intricately weighted one.
Suddenly, there comes the get-out clause super-villains fall into regularly, and an even more well-worked way to get him out of his charge. The pro's of relations in high places, probably.
There's a better sense of conviction here, as if it now knows kind of programme it wanted to be when it returned for its third season, as it seems the titular character is heading for a sunset far away from his investigative partner.
It seems like that was going to be that. But even after impressively utilising the first two episodes' seeds to create a marvellous plot that surpasses all the other episodes of this year, there's still time for another ace to be pulled from their sleeve.
An impressive manipulation of the end-credits has certainly provided the next season with a potentially inviting set-up, as well as giving an important plot point from which to build this series from.
As well as providing another "back from the dead" scenario, the show's favourite villain gets another chance to perfect his evil mannerisms, not to mention the covert homoeroticism which has so far yielded a lot of fans.
The next year will see plenty of online speculation as to just how Moriarty survived, or indeed, if he's simply pulling a trick from beyond the grave. But it'll be interesting to see what this is...
With confirmation series four is already planned out, all we can do is wait and see how he can gets out of this rather impressively worked tight spot.
Your move, Moffat...
4.5/5
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