Hello friends, I am me. Remember? This being bank holiday weekend, Nikki and I felt that three days inside doing nothing would be one too many, so we decided to find something to do.
Even so, it’s actually a bit of a novelty for us to have a bank holiday in August, because most of the time we miss it by going to Reading. For reasons I’ve explained elsewhere, we didn’t do that this year. I do miss going, though. I know it’s overcrowded and it’s full of twats, and ridiculously expensive and Latitude infinitely better, but… it’s still Reading. And Radiohead were headlining. The fact that, by all reports, it was pissing down during their set does make me feel a bit better because watching bands in the rain is hard to enjoy, but I still feel like I’ve missed out. Reading is usually the summer’s last hurrah, for us, so without it things feel… unfinished.
But anyway, we decided that we’d spend the day getting some use out of the Prince Charles Cinema, because I’ve held a membership there for over 2 years but only been once. We picked two films that we were both interested in seeing and brought Ian along for the ride. I will now describe the films for your enjoyment:
The first was Sunshine Cleaning, which was an Indie (capital I) film about two women who set up a business cleaning up crime scenes. It’s an offbeat light comedy, which in practise means it’s about as funny as your own life but involves a situation you’d never actually find yourself in. It’s a bit quirky, a bit funny, a bit optimistic and a bit depressing, and the end result is that it’s only a bit good. The actors all carry the material well and it’s inoffensive and watchable, but it really feels like it needs to pick a genre or conceit and actually commit to it, instead of just presenting a string of indie moments. It’s perhaps a little too sentimental for me - I didn’t hate it, but I didn’t love it either, and only Emily Blunt’s character felt like she went on any interesting journey, emotionally speaking.
The next was Moon, which was far more up my street. It was influenced by 70s and 80s sci-fi in a very good way. With its small cast and limited amount of locations, it felt like a cheap episode of the Outer Limits, albeit the best, most polished version of one. The exteriors, while punched up with CGI, were clearly model shots which added to the retro charm, and meant that even the slow panning shots of vehicles driving about the moon were hypnotising. The film’s mysteries unravels slowly and brilliantly, as Sam discovers some uncomfortable truths about his employment, while GERTY, his Kevin Spacey-voiced robot servant, manages to invoke and subvert the usual sci-fi robot cliches by not going on a killing spree at any point.
Ian and I both guessed the twist before it happened, at roughly the same point, but it was quite refreshing that the film doesn’t actually dwell too much on the details, assuming enough intelligence of the audience that they can understand what they’re seeing without someone telling them. Without spoilering too much, the dangling thread of Sam’s mortality did feel as though it could’ve done with some resolution. I did construct an optimistic interpretation of things in my head, but for such a major issue, it did feel under-addressed, if not necessarily under-explained.
Still, regardless of the quality of the films, it was a nice way to kill off a day. Before Sunshine Cleaning, we went to the Palm Court Brasserie on King’s Street for lunch. Finding a decent sunday roast at a non-ridiculous price in Soho is virtually impossible - the only two choices on offer appear to be “£22.50 swank-fest” or “£3.99 wetherspoons heat-lamp special”. Palm Court’s efforts were enjoyable enough, but as someone who really appreciates a good roast, they didn’t exactly bowl me over. The meal was decent, but it was no better than, say, Brown’s. And as someone who obsesses over the details, I’d like restaurants to take note: for £13 a meal, I want a Yorkshire Pudding that’s made from scratch, thanks. Do you really think we don’t notice? Dessert was much better, and the service was excellent, but when the main course is merely adequate it puts a damper on everything else, no matter how above average it is.
Also I ate a bunch of parsnips while thinking “these potatoes aren’t very nice at all” and I resent that I was unable to tell the difference by sight alone.
I did very much enjoy the fact that we could book online, though. Perhaps it’s because I vividly remember the days when the Internet was good for nothing but Star Trek, Porn, and Star Trek Porn, it amazes me that the real world and Internet can actually interface in an efficient way. I typed my details into a website, and when we got to the restaurant it was all sorted. We’re yet one step closer to my dream society, where no-one has to talk to anyone they don’t want to, and robots will show us to our table then e-mail the order direct to the cook. Although it’s possible these robots might rise up and enslave us, let’s be honest, there’s no guarantee the existing waiters wouldn’t try to do that too.
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