Oh, the weather outside is frightful…

At the time of writing, it is snowing outside (which should give some of you an idea as to the length of backlog I keep). All I see is some varying shade of white or grey, as the snow lies several inches deep in patches- and is still falling. Even the road is barely visible between its white dusting. All is calm, all is quiet, all sound deadened in that weird way snow does.

This has, understandably, somewhat altered my plans over the weekend. With all rugby-related activities off for the immediate future and a large repository of awesome awaiting in the hills near my home, I have spent around four hours over the last two days rolling around in, sliding over, throwing and falling into heaps of snow whilst wrapped in twice the layers of clothing I customarily wear; and loving every minute of it. Monday has come inconveniently early for me. I am a big child.

Of course, snow is not all great news. When the snow first fell I was stuck away from home and offered to give a friend a lift back to his; after I’d dropped him off I became caught in the worst traffic jam I have ever experienced, and took a total of three and a half hours to get to my house, eight miles from my point of departure. This is just one part of the minor infrastructure  meltdown that occurs whenever snow ends up where it’s unexpected; across Britain (where, incidentally, this decade has seen more serious snowfalls than the last half-century) roads have been clogged, schools have closed, airports have had to cancel flights and shops have shut. After a few days most people have basically got used to it and some aspects of life are starting to return to normal, but the smaller roads are still treacherous and flights continue to be cancelled across the country.

This of course inspires the usual parlance of “we are all a bunch of useless wusses, why is the country grinding to a halt, in Canada/Sweden/Switzerland/the mountain passes of Tibet they can deal with this pitiful dusting in their sleep”. This is generally an opinion put forward by a) raging pessimists who hate everything and b) people who are angry at having been stuck in traffic or similar for an extended period, and is somewhat stupid. In countries where snow is regular/predictable/all the year round, people have all the equipment (winter tyres, snow chains, snowploughs etc.) to make sure they can cope when the inevitable bad weather rolls in. In Britain however, snow is so irregular and unpredictable that to own all this expensive equipment is simply not financially viable to keep all year round, much less remember how to equip and use. If we just take the economic standpoint, despite the chaos it causes, we are better off in the long run having a few days every year or three of total mayhem than an expensive state of perpetual readiness that we really don’t need.

The fact that this sentiment exists, however, is indicative of the strange love/hate relationship we have with snow. On the one hand, we idolise it; we holiday across continents to spend weeks slithering around over a predictable supply of it, hail snowy landscapes as some of the most breathtakingly beautiful our planet has to offer, and every year as December rolls around we in the Northern hemisphere are greeted to endless images of snow in adverts, TV and everything else even remotely associated with Christmas. In this context, it is seen as a kind of wistful image; a wish for the snow’s beauty and the kind of landscape to make a crackling fire and time spent with the family seem even more attractive and like the perfect family Christmas that we all seem to aim for during the festive period. Snow is something to be lusted after, something we are willing to pay an awful lot for, and that has some kind of mystical quality to it.

But then we consider the inverse; what happens when it arrives. Across the country, news bulletins offer us stern warnings of icy roads, treacherous conditions, the occasional serious incident (this year four people were killed in a hiking incident during the worst part of the cold weather) and, of course, the thousands of parents facing childcare problems as little Timmy’s school has shut and he wants to go play in the snow. When it comes around, the number of people who say they hate snow grows rapidly; it traps us in traffic, riles our tempers, messes with our schedules. The snow itself, so pristine when it first falls on fresh, cold ground, rapidly becomes compressed down to slippery, dirty ice, before turning into a messy slush. For many, there is no option but to wrap up warm, stay indoors and curse the day God invented the ‘cold rain’ (as a mate recently described it).

To an extent, this is an age thing; when young, we yearn for the snow that is so often promised but never comes, and without the responsibilities of adulthood we are fully equipped to make the most of it when it comes round. To an adult, being unable to get to work is frustrating and inconvenient; but a closed school is a child’s paradise, and offers an excuse to spend the entire day messing around doing as you please. And not only that, but the weather has also provided the best playground imaginable; not only is snow soft and relatively harmless, but it can be easily compacted into a harder, more solid form, allowing it to form snowballs, snowmen and even makeshift igloos. Even better than that, snow is mighty slippery stuff, allowing us to go flying down hills far faster than we could hope to even sprint, whilst still being soft enough to break our fall and clean enough that we don’t have to worry about ruining clothes, adding sledding to the ‘snow play’ repertoire.

Perhaps children are simply those best equipped to enjoy the snow; they don’t have to worry about the roads or work, and have none of the adult responsibilities that so weigh our older selves down. Or maybe they just have the correct mindset to deal with it, because in all honesty, snow is really good fun; a form of entertainment that is great precisely because it comes around so rarely, and provides so many opportunities. Maybe I’m just a big kid, but to me snow is a chance to forget a few of my responsibilities for a while, and just have fun bouncing off the trees. To return to the mind of a child one again, but with the adult body that allows me to get the absolute most out of it.

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The Hunger Redemption

Today, I wish to take a look at the subject of films. I do not make any claims to be a film buff or any expert on such things, but I go to see my fair share and like to think I know the basic principles and terminology.

Normally though, I still wouldn’t bring the topic up, but a couple of events over the last couple of days almost wrote a post for me. The first of these was a showing of The Shawshank Redemption on the TV the other day, which changed my opinion of the film from the mere Excellent ranking it had slipped to since last time I saw to up to the far more deserving Superlatively Awesome position. The other occurred earlier today, when I went to see The Hunger Games, and I saw an interesting opportunity to compare the two.

At first glance, this might seem quite an odd choice of comparison- the two films are from completely different eras of film making and have some wildly different fundamentals, but when one thinks about it they are actually remarkably similar in several aspects. Both are exactly the same length, both are adapted from highly successful books, both manage to cram a lot of film into their (admittedly still quite long) running times, and both contain a central theme of the man (or in the newer film’s case, woman) versus the system, to name but a few. The most important similarity though, is the films’ aims- neither are action showstoppers or visual spectaculars, trying to wow the audience with a show- these films are trying to appeal more on the basis of what they say and mean instead.

However, one crucial difference strikes me- my reaction to the film. Shawshank is a very emotive film for me, and it is impossible to watch it and not leave with a deep sense of the profound and the epic- the film just feels like it’s really, really good, as well as being so. The Hunger Games, on the other hand? Well, it’s certainly not bad, and is certainly above average, but something strikes me as… missing. There is nothing to elevate this film from the mundane and merely ‘good’, to the unique and exceptional- it lacks a certain spark imbued to truly great films.

But why exactly is that? What is it about the execution of The Hunger Games that makes me respond so comparatively poorly to it?

A first thing that strikes me is a lack of depth in the film’s plot. I have said already that a lot of stuff happens in the film, and I can see why they’ve done it- to drop sections would annoy fans of the book and spark web-based outrage for critics to giggle at. But then again, Harry Potter did much the same thing in pretty much every film (because how the hell do you pack 800 pages into a couple of hours screen time?) and, with hindsight, the film benefited from it. For all I know, not having read the books, Gary Ross (director & screenwriter) already did plenty of cutting but… a bit more probably wouldn’t have hurt, to be honest. So much ends up happening that is not a natural progression from another moment that it severely eats into the film’s running time without really adding anything major to it, and prevents anything from gathering any emotive weight to make it seem meaningful.

Speaking of lack of natural progression, that’s another thing- the film has a lot of thematic inconsistency that makes some sections sit very uncomfortably with others. The raw, rough nature of the District 12 opening scenes, for example, does not contrast as effectively as it should with the opulence of the Capitol and the accompanying stupid fashion sense. There is prime opportunity here to contrast the decadence and the poverty of the two and to create some real emotional hit to carry the film along with, but it never really comes. Katniss (the main character, whose name I cannot write without giggling inside) just seems to sit too comfortably with all the pomp and ceremony, which for a character who is meant to be fighting the system and even inspires a f*&%^$g rebellion, just seems odd- and yes, I know she has to make herself popular to attract sponsors, but it’s not beyond the wit of a filmmaker to at least demonstrate some emotional response to the whole business, is it? The irony is that the acting in the film is actually very good and emotive- but the screenplay and directing simply don’t allow it to come to the fore.

This lack of consistency is not only a plot-driven thing- there is a lot of it in the cinematography too. The film switches between ‘Hollywood-style’ backed off shots and more gritty, up close and personal moments- which I would applaud if this switching all happened when it apparently should. As it is… well, take a fight scene near the end. These scenes generally attempt to have on consistent camera aesthetic to get a consistent feel and allow the audience to absorb themselves in the action, rather than doing what Ross has chosen to do on this occasion and constantly switch between confusing, rolling shots between three people in black jumpsuits on a black background so you have no idea who anyone is, to sudden wide shots which tell you roughly who everyone is without giving you any real sense of immersion before throwing you back into the realm of confusion.

If I wanted to, I could go on nit-picking all day, which I don’t really means to since it demeans what is still a very good film. But my real point is that my perpetual feeling whilst watching The Hunger Games is one of a loss of direction, of there being something missing. There are lots of great elements, great camera shots, and great themes in there, but they all just appeared to have been thrown in haphazardly and mixed together without any real aim or direction. There is no real sense that this film has one consistent message, one standout theme, or one clear idea that it builds itself upon, and this just makes it feel… unsatisfying.

…And now to actually justify this as a contrast, I once again give you: The Shawshank Redemption– the epitome of a driven message ramming itself home. To understand what makes Shawshank great, only one simple fact needs to be noted- every single moment in this film is just one part of the emotional rollercoaster of up ‘n’ down of Andy DuFresne’s life. This is a film purely about one man’s life being  dragged through the shitheap, and his sheer determination and balls to pull himself out of it. It is a series of slow buildups and damning falls, of hopes being built and broken, and of the man finally coming good. Every risen hope dashed invests the heart of the viewer in DuFresne, and he becomes our collective avatar. We feel his joy when a chance of freedom or hope arises, and share his pain when it is dashed against the rock- which makes the film’s perfectly paced and beautiful finale something truly special, and something which the entire audience can enjoy and experience. Because we never get that kind of emotional investment in our characters, we are never in a position to enjoy it in the same way as The Hunger Games.

Do not take from this by any means that Games is a bad film, because it’s not, and I don’t mean to slam it so hard. I just think it’s a shame that would could have been a brilliant film has had to be compromised in such a way.

Isn’t legalised violence wonderful?

OK, back I am after unscheduled break, and since I have some time, I thought I would try to spread the word of something very close to my heart- the sport of rugby.

In Europe (or Britain, anyway), rugby is subject to a lot of misconceptions due to lack of knowledge- across the rest of the world, Australasia and South Africa excepted, it is hardly known. For those of you unfamiliar with the game, rugby is an ancestor of American Football, and shares several of the same broad features- big meaty players, an oval-shaped ball (although rounder than an American football to make it easier to pass and kick), physicality and the idea of touching the ball down in the end-area. However, below the surface, the similarities end. For one thing, rugby players do not wear full body armour, and for another they do not run around for 3 seconds at a time interrupted by a 2 minute break. I would try and explain the rules differences, but rugby is recognised as having some of the most complicated laws (when gone into in detail) of any major sport. A few basic rules include- there are two groups of players, big, strong forwards who win possession and be physical, and light, fast backs who score most of the points. Points are scored either by touching the ball down over the end line for 5 points (not just by running over it or throwing it down), or kicking the ball through the posts at either end- this can either be done either after a try (touchdown) has been scored (worth an extra two points), when a penalty is awarded (3 points), or from a drop kick in general play (also 3 points). You can only pass backwards & sideways (but can kick or run forwards in open play), you can only tackle a player with the ball, and once a player has been tackled to the ground the forwards (or whoever happens to be nearby), all pile in to try and push each other off the ball in what’s called a ruck, in order to win possession. If the ball is ‘knocked on’ (spilled forwards), a scrum is formed (both sets of forwards pushing against each other to win the ball), and if it is kicked out of the field on either side, a lineout is formed (the ball is thrown in and both sets of forwards jump and lift one another in order to try and catch it).
Considering I probably could have summarised football in a sentence, this gives you some idea of just how complicated the game can get. If you want to learn more, I suggest you try to watch some- the Six Nations tournament is starting in February and will be on TV, while one of the American networks (I think it may be NBC) has recently started broadcasting rugby 7’s (7 players on each side rather than 15, and only 7 minutes each way rather than 40- this leads to very fast, high-scoring games).
I should probably also take this point to clear up a couple of misconceptions about the game. 1) Rugby is not a ‘posh man’s sport’. Yes, it is named after an English public school and yes, most of the current England squad will have got sport scholarships at private schools, but rugby is an inclusive game, and anyone can join without fear of class boundaries- I have been in a squad where one guy with a dad earning upward of 100 grand  has been struggling for his place while our first choice centre’s dad has been struggling for work. 2) You are not guaranteed to break eery bone in your body. I have played rugby for numerous years now and have yet to receive a serious injury, and while it is true the injury toll in rugby is far greater than in football, it is far less than sports like American Football, and the rugby community is very good at looking after its members.
However, I didn’t post this just to be a laws description or a whinge against those who don’t understand the game, because rugby is so much more than a complicated set of rules. To my mind, there are 4 reasons why rugby is the best game on the planet. One is that it is a game for everyone, regardless of shape, size or skills. The big chunky ones who may not be the most intelligent or skilful but like to push each other around can go up front in the forwards (probably the front row, who are an entity unto themselves), the big tall ones can be really good in the lineout, the fast ones can go on the wing, the skilful and aware ones at flyhalf (the rugby equivalent of a quarterback), and the tiny, annoying little gob*****s who like to annoy the referee are born scrum-halves. Two is that rugby can, at its best, be superlatively spectacular and beautiful in a myriad of different forms. This: http://www.rugbydump.com/2011/12/2271/biarritz-score-a-sensational-team-try-against-montpellier, is just a teamwork spectacular showing a ‘backs try’, but just as beautiful to a rugby aficionado could be a 60-metre maul (like a loose scrum), pushed all the way up the pitch. And then you’ve got this which, well… it was the world cup final, England v Australia (the old rivals), England had never won the world cup before, it was 17-17 well into extra time, there were less than 30 seconds left and- this:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XuKHtcIdD4M&feature=related. It was a hell of a lot better than the video and commentary makes it look.
Thirdly, and perhaps most importantly, rugby is a social sport. It’s a friendly game, and getting drunk in the bar with your opposite number is a celebrated post-match ritual, even if he’s sporting a broken nose you gave him in the match earlier. On the pitch, you may be worst of enemies- on it, everyone has a laugh. Rugby fans are allowed to drink at matches, unlike football fans, because the authorities can trust them to basically behave. Rugby abhors violent play, and abuse of the referee is especially frowned upon. It is a game founded on trust and friendliness, on camaraderie, on team spirit, to an extent that no other sport can match, and it is a thing more beautiful than even the greatest of tries.
And fourth (watch all the replays of these) and finally there is… well this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XuKHtcIdD4M&feature=related
and this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XuKHtcIdD4M&feature=related
and this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DPMZrPjW5cs
… and also this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9wq_PL-GDTI&feature=related
Yeah…