I begun my task, today, to see as much of the Biennale of Sydney as possible, by heading of to the Art Gallery Of NSW. Actually, task is probably the wrong word, because it’s going to be an absolute pleasure, but with the works on display at twenty or thirty venues, I’ll need to have a methodology about this. Anyway, there were three works on display at the AGNSW that I really liked and a lot of works I felt fairly indifferent about.
Unfortunately, I don’t recall the name of the creator of my favourite work, as I can’t actually cross-reference it to either the Biennale Guide nor the website. Imagine if you would something about 30 feet wide by six feet deep and four feet high, a three dimensional map of the world created out of many layers of canvas. I liked the creative concept, the enactment, and the craft that went into this work. Actually, maybe it’s not part of the Biennale at all?
I also really liked the work by John Reynolds. The NZ-artist has created a memorable work featuring hundreds, maybe thousands of words printed on boxes, all displayed on a wall. While I sometimes think works like this can seem all a little contrived and PC, especially in the choice of words, I thought this work showed humour and intelligence.
The most memorable works, though, were probably those paintings by Biljana Djurdjevic. Set inside a swimming change room or was it a Nazi gas chamber (or something like that), the images were of frightened, disturbed people with wide eyes and pale skin. I interpreted one work, “Paradise Lost” as being about child abuse, though I could be wrong.
We knew within seconds we were in the “wrong movie”. We had already felt a little uncomfortable about the size of the crowd and theatre, expecting a much larger crowd in a much larger theatre. But we sat there, chatting, half-watching the ads, until the opening credits appeared and within seconds we realised we were in the wrong theatre. We got up quickly, found the right theatre, and then made our way to the second front row, as the much larger theatre was close to capacity.
We knew little about the film, except that it was based around the fictional character of small-town radio announcer, Alan Partridge. Since we both work in radio, my colleague/friend and I thought it would be fun to go to. Indeed, there are lots of very funny “radio jokes”, and there were lots of moments when we both laughed out loud, making comparisons in our minds between some of the extreme egotism of the character, as an amplified version of the some of the behaviour we sometimes seem in our colleagues.
There were so many moments when we, and all of the cinema, laughed out loud at the roller-coaster of unexpected twists and turns the movie took. There were no moments of predictability. The film romped along at a cracker pace, and importantly, was about the right length. Despite the comic value of it all, the film has heart, and despite the sometimes farcical comedy, all of the characters were, in their own ways, totally believable.
Alan Partridge in the studio
It’s definitely a film I’d like to see again, as I’m sure there are moments, actions and lines I’d probably pick up on which were maybe lost on first viewing. I’d also like to see the first couple of minutes we missed from being in the wrong cinema.
I honestly can’t remember the last time I ate at “The Dhaba” on Cleveland Street.”The Dhaba” is, by the way, a legendary Indian restaurant in my neighbourhood, and I think possibly one of the first Indian restaurants in the area.
And when I moved to Surry Hills – just a few hundred metres away from The Dhaba – it became for a while my default restaurant. You know what I mean? “You feel like a meal. Let’s meet at The Dhaba” became a recurrent refrain in my life for many years.
This wasn’t hard to do because the food was so good. Malai kofta was always on the list, as was mango chutney, pickles, raita and peshwari nan. In fact, that combination was usually enough to make for a tasty, filling meal.
Now, of course, we’re almost spoiled for choice when it comes to Indian restaurant. And although that’s not without incident – who can forget the famous Indian restaurant explosion of July last year – I guess that’s additional choice is part of the reason, I haven’t been to The Dhaba for a couple of years. But when my friend visiting for work from Canberra suggested dinner, and suggested The Dhaba, I couldn’t resist the invitation.
Dhaba on Cleveland Street (image from Google Street View)
Anyway, we met at nearby Bar Cleveland for a couple of beers and catch-up. And then we wandered over the road to The Dhaba which was absolutely packed. It was actually a little noisy, so we sometimes struggled to be heard. But the food was good, and we had a great time. I’d forgotten until tonight just how good “The Dhaba” is. I must get back there more often.
After dinner, I made my way to our regular Wednesday catch up at the pub in Lewisham. Aside from chatting, we spent a bit of time watching the tennis.
Although we all agreed Roger Federer was both a good tennis player and lovely bloke, we were also quite impressed with Gilles Simon. Impressed not so much with his tennis playing, but with his cute face and great legs. Oooh, those legs! I know it’s shameful to reduce someone down to their physical characteristics, but sometimes it’s hard to resist the deep core in human nature to find attractive people likeable.
“Oh no”, I told my friends as I did a quick online search to find out more about Mr Simon. “He has a wife and just had a baby a few months ago”. Talk about disappointing.
It was the only disappointment, however, in an otherwise lovely evening.
After work last night I wandered home and watched television for a while. After having dinner at the “Happy Garden” Chinese restaurant (which has an outdoor area with fans, where you can have a beer as well),
It’s Saturday morning and I think I may have malaria, or at least I think I have “gone troppo”, as some of the smallest things are giving me the giggles. I’ve just been listening to ABC Radio’s “Gardening Talkback”, and the first few questions were “I have a palm tree in the backyard that’s about to die”, “I have a termite mound growing in my front yard”, and “I’m having trouble getting my coconuts out of the tree”. I swear it’s true!
And last night, I wandered to the local bar and met a girl, Michelle, who was from Snowtown, South Australia. I also swear it’s true. She, apparently, never worked in the State Bank, but did have an account there.
The local “bar”, the The Railcar Bar & Mississippi Queen is just as I remembered it two years ago, except this time a couple of people actually spoke to me, albeit briefly.
I read somewhere the other day a statistic that one in three people over the age of fifty or something like that would live to 100. I could be wrong. I could have misread it. But even if it’s not actually true, the weight of evidence suggests we’re all living a lot longer these days.
In contrast to my mum and dad who both died in their sixties – cancer and heart disease – I’m HOPING for a reasonably long life myself.
Nonetheless, at the age of forty-five I’m conscious that I need to have my “affairs” in order in case I’m hit by bus or affected by serious illness. And so that’s why a couple of weeks ago I went to a financial advisor, and why this week I went to make a will.
Until now I’ve never really had much of a desire to make a will. As well as the fairly common reason of not wanting to think about my own mortality, I don’t have a partner and I don’t have children. On top of that, it’s reasonably likely that all of the people I’d like to leave things behind for, will either die before me or soon afterwards.
So I had to sit down this week and think really hard about the “disposal of my assets” in the event of my death. That was a hard thing to do for reasons above. But eventually I hatched a plan in my mind and went along to the Public Trustee and made my will.
I chose the Public Trustee precisely because of the reason I could be “alone” when I die. I’m not meaning to be dramatic, but it’s worth considering that at this point in my life I don’t have a partner or children (the logical people to deal with such an event), and that my closest and immediate family lives in Lismore and Brisbane. So, although I’ve spoken to a family member about being my will’s executor, I’ve got the backup of the Public Trustee who can look after things in case there’s no one around.
“Can you TRUST this person?” was a question that I was asked on several occasions by the bloke looking after my will. I wonder if the same question would have been asked if the executor had been a partner and not a family member?
It was a fascinating process to go through as a single person without parents or dependents: who do I want to leave my assets to, and who would I trust to ensure it happens.
My heart almost broke when the guy plying Franki Valli sang “My Eyes Adored You”. It’s a song I haven’t heard in years and had almost completely forgot existed. And then when it came on, I was transported back in time…
My eyes adored you
Though I never laid a hand on you,
My eyes adored you
Like a million miles away from me you couldn’t see
How I adored you:
So close, so close and yet so far
I’m not sure if it’s the lyrics or the melody or a combination of the two, but it’s such a wonderful heartfelt song.
Another of my all time favourite songs is “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You”.
You’re just too good to be true.
Can’t take my eyes off you.
You’d be like Heaven to touch.
I wanna hold you so much.
At long last love has arrived
And I thank God I’m alive.
You’re just too good to be true.
Can’t take my eyes off you.
“I can sing it in Swedish”, I told me friend Colin at half-time, remembering the cover version recorded by Anni-Frid Lyngstad (Frida) from ABBA.
And that’s the thing about Jersey Boys that makes it such a great piece of musical theatre – it has great music. Although we both quite enjoyed sseing Hairpsray the other night, one of that shows great weaknesses was the lack of memorable tunes. In contrast, Jersey Boys is full of memorable tunes.
The show also has a really great stoy. “You care about the characters”, I said to Colin at intermission. Even though theirs was an extraordinary story, there was something about the “ordinary beginnings” and “human frailties” (the gambling, the temptations) that made the story of The Four Seasons such a great focus for a musical.
Although we didn’t have the “main bloke” playing the role of Frank Valli, his standby was very very good. In fact, the whole male cast was excellent. The female roles, in contrast, are very secondary to the story and the to show. You could almost have written their parts out, though they were obviously still important to overall story.
As far as “hits and memories musicals” are concerned, this was in a whole different class to many of the others. This wasn’t just a string of hits loosely weaved around a story, as many of the other musicals of that genre have become, this is a genuinely meaningful story with genuinely good songs. Terrific stuff!!
While baby-boomer television writers remain obsessed with the likes of Mel, Koshy, Karl and Jessica, the real television battle is now being fought between the hours of midnight and three AM.
There was a time when late night television consisted of the NBC Today Show, classic Hollywood movies, repeat drama on the ABC and the SBS test pattern. Not any more.
A few years ago, Channel 10 decided to break the mould with “Big Brother Up Late”. In the first year, they hadn’t really thought it through, resulting in endless hours of people asleep. Yes, snoring. To be honest, I don’t think they were inspired by Foucault and I don’t think they’d intended to deconstruct the medium, but somehow they did.
The following year they realised they needed a few tricks up their sleeve and so began to replay highlights from earlier programs and word games where contestants could win up to $1000. Since then, they’ve begun to introduce alcohol and late night parties as a means of enticing those late night viewers. By the time this year’s “Big Brother” had arrived, the housemates were fully worded up and appeared to be staying up late on purpose, in an effort to tap into the late night voting audience who, perhaps under the influence of a little too much alcohol, might actually vote to save or evict one of these tragic souls.
Recognising the value of the revenue that could be gained from asking lonely people to call or send an SMS when at their most vulnerable – and not quite desperate enough to SMS “flirt” or call Adult Matchmaker – Channel 10 last year introduced a program hosted by “Hot Dogs”, one of the most appalling Big Brother contestants ever. “Hot Dogs” went into recess when “Big Brother” made a return a few months ago, but now he’s back, along with a host of others. Along with a producer, a director, and maybe two cameramen (hey, this is a high budget production) tonight he was joined in the studio by “gay hairdresser Rob”.
Latenight Crap
But if the sight of a third rate celebrity asking you to participate via phone or SMS in a word competition is not your style, you could always tune over to Channels 7 or 9.
Oh hang on, they’re offering exactly the same at exactly the same time? Is this what Helen Coonan assumes is the free market offering what the audience wants?
Well, at least the Channel 7 program seems to offer more than just one presenter. As well as the camp guy saying hello to his friends who work as cinema ushers, there’s also a woman in a bikini asking people to call in to nominate ABBA songs in an effort to win $500. As an ABBA fan, I jumped on the phone straight away, only to be “rejected” as not making the short list. So yeah, I’d paid 55 cents for nothing. And so I tried again and again and again. Can you believe that “Dancing Queen” wasn’t on their list and that the top $500 winning song as the wonderful, yet obscure “When All Is Said & Done” from ABBA’s final album “The Visitors”?
Latenight Dross
Meanwhile, at Eddie Maguire’s Channel 9, it’s a REALLY low budget production with just one camera that I suspect the presenter is operating. I also suspect the presenter is answering his own calls as he loudly declares “Hello, welcome to Quizmania, who’s there”? And sometimes, no one is. Oh hang on, it’s Brodie, a Big Brother intruder who was quickly voted out a couple of years ago. Brodie is looking for a word that completes the clue for “DR_SS”. Although I suspect the word he is looking for is “dress”, I think it’s more accurately “dross” that should be front of mind.
The appearance of “Hot Dogs” and Brodie has destroyed my theory that all of these people hosting the shows were “Big Brother” rejects. Missing out, I thought, they’d tried for “Australian Idol” and also missed out. “X-factor”? Sorry, maybe next time. “Yasmin”? “Playing it Straight”? Hardly. And so they’ve ended up hosting word games and wearing far too much hair product on late night commercial television.
Yes, this is the future of free to air television. And in that future, “Hot Dogs” is about as good as it gets.
