Low-key Argentinian road movie of sorts from director Carlos Sorin. A lost dog provides the impetus for an old man to amble off on a slow journey: he's not really looking for doggie, he's hunting meaning and a decent way to die. New friends shuffle about and there's much sentiment which would be panned if this was a Hollywood flick.
Set fire to anything. Set fire to the air," urged John Cale at the beginning of Music For A New Society. That 1982 masterpiece was the evisceration of a man whose fractured psyche was mirrored perfectly by songs arranged in jagged, improvisatory style; a knife held at the throat of sweetness. Now he reappears with his first album of songs for seven years, and his finest album in any genre for over two decades.
With untenable Leone motifs and broad comedy caricatures, this final part of Shane Meadows' "Midlands Trilogy" (after Twenty-Four Seven and A Room For Romeo Brass) is a disappointment. Robert Carlyle is solid as the Glaswegian rogue determined to win back ex-partner Shirley Henderson. Yet, despite a re-shot 'dramatic' ending, it feels slight.
Given the parlous state of contemporary jazz singing (Diana Krall? Elvis, how could you?), Lea DeLaria, a butch dyke from St Louis with a dirty mouth and a deliciously wicked sense of humour, is all the more remarkable. Growing up with jazz in her veins, she was previously best known as a comic (she's also been a Broadway star), but singing is clearly her vocation.
They may not be the most charismatic bunch ever to tread a rock'n'roll stage, but Doves sure know how to put on a fine show. Recorded live in the extraordinary location of the Eden Project in Cornwall during the summer of 2002, the Manchester trio storm through a rousing set of uplifting tunes, in which "Pounding" and "There Goes The Fear", from their latest album, The Last Broadcast, are inevitably the highlights.
EXTRAS: Arguably even better than the main feature.
Made by Jack Hazan and David Mingay, this film follows Ray Gange as he packs in his job to roadie for The Clash. The sight of Strummer, Jones and co acting out scenes from their daily lives is strangely endearing, and as a record of pre-Thatcher Britain, it's fascinating.
