Monday, 28 April 2014

Variations on a Theme

Regular readers of this blog will no doubt recall that I have zombie dreams quite regularly. It used to be that they could be called 'alarmingly regular' but they're no longer that regular or, to be honest, that alarming. I did have a slightly different kind last night, though...

Initially, it seemed like the standard tale of survival in a zombie apocalypse. I was part of a small group of people making their way through the corridors of a large building (school? office? shopping mall? can't be sure as we spent most of this dream edging through a single corridor). We reached the end of a corridor, at which there was a staircase up to the next floor, and a door in one side wall to another area... there also seemed to be some kind of balcony area high up on the end wall. Lurking near the staircase were a few zombies - one adult, two very young children. The adult should have been easy enough to pick off as it wasn't moving a great deal. The trouble was getting a clear shot around the staircase. In the end, one of my team and I went round either side of the staircase to find a decent vantage point. Unfortunately, as soon as my team-mate killed the adult, the two children became more aggressive and animated, bouncing around everywhere, hiding, and generally making themselves a nuisance. I'm not entirely sure I remember this part of the dream accurately, but I think one of them ended up getting thrown out of a window, while the other was despatched by another member of the team, hanging behind us.

Once we were sure that all the zombies in that area were dead, we regrouped and checked that no-one had been injured. At this point, a guy wearing a blindfold and with his arms bound to his sides stumbled through the door. One of the people stood behind me, understandably jumpy, took the 'shoot first, ask questions later' approach to the situation, and the guy flew back through the doorway with a large hole in his chest. Some noise drew our attention to the balconies above us, and another couple of people - very obviously not zombies - were standing some way above us.

Now, either my recollection of the dream is faulty, or we seemed to find ourselves on the roof of the building, with no discernible transition. The two we'd seen on the balcony were there, along with a whole group of other survivors. They proceeded to tell us how they weren't remotely worried by zombies, and something started to seem a little odd about them... They were far too jovial, coming just that little bit too close for comfort, and weren't reacting to the presence of additional survivors the way we might have expected... And they soon revealed why that was.

They were all vampires.

Weirdly, a member of my team - who looked not dissimilar to Andrew Lincoln's Rick Grimes from The Walking Dead - expressed a certain disbelief in the existence of vampires. Weirder still, these 'vampires' seemed to all have metal teeth... or, at least, shaped metal plates - random, viciously jagged, asymmetrical panels - held in front of their actual teeth. My last memory of this dream before waking up was of blood splattering on the face of the 'vampire' stood in front of me as the guy to my left was attacked.

Part of me is wondering if even my dreams are now suffering from Zombie Fatigue... I could certainly handle a change to vampires. They can be far more interesting.

Following on from this variation on a theme, I've had another at work. It's always been the case that people I work with feel as though I never make mistakes. The truth of it is that I usually spot my own errors before anyone else and correct them before they become a problem. Usually, the first thing anyone else knows about my mistakes is when I'm telling them "Yeah, that happened, but it's fixed now."

Of course, Murphy's Law tends to suggests that it won't always go that way... even though I've never had much use for Murphy's Law because I can normally work around it. I know what to expect, so there's usually a backup plan ready to go in advance. And so, when I accepted a full-time position at a small publishing company, having worked there for a few weeks earlier in the year, I felt that I knew what to expect, and had my contingencies arranged.

Yet my very first magazine went terribly wrong, and I didn't even notice... I output my final pages the same way I've always done, the way I'd done them the last time I was there. What could possibly go wrong? In fact, I only realised something was adrift while uploading pages of my second magazine to the Printers. Literally every one of my pages had the same low-res/RGB error. I couldn't figure out how or why, nor could I spare the time for any research. I simply had to re-do all of my pages and resupply them. Sorting out what had gone wrong, where it had gone wrong and why it had gone wrong would have to wait.

And it's actually still a bit of a puzzler. My PDFs somehow came out low-res and RGB, when the settings I used (the company's own standard output settings) were for high-resolution CMYK output, and I can find no satisfactory explanation for that. Initially, I thought my settings had somehow been ignored, but even when I made the company's settings the output default, the same issue occurred. I'm not inclined to shrug and blame the computer or the software, so I'm currently in a bit of a self-recrimination kick.

The worst part of it was, having admitted to the salesperson that the ads pages were not of optimal quality, and that the problem hadn't been picked up on until after her magazine went to press, the MD called me for a quick meeting... In a nearby wine bar.

I knew what it was about from the moment he asked to speak to me, not least because he popped down only a few minutes after my admission to the salesperson. How could it possibly be about anything else? He nevertheless started off with a very long preamble about his management style and his lack of technical knowledge about Production process. He kept assuring me that everything was OK and that they'd be able to smooth over any client's ruffled feathers and that, essentially, shit happens.

I'm kind of not used to that for two reasons. I've always been one to admit my errors because, while they're rare these days, they are a learning experience (I lost count, years ago, of the number of times one of my mistakes has revealed potentially huge problems which were then avoided by a change in procedure). Also, with most of my managers, I've found it better to 'fess up and face the music than to deny that any problems have occurred. If I get a bollocking, so be it.

So, weirdly, the fact that I didn't get a bollocking for fucking up my first magazine kinda left me shellshocked over the weekend. It's actually still weighing on my mind, which is why I spent part of this evening experimenting. I brought the relevant files home with me and remade the PDF - by the same method - only to find it worked as it should have done... so I'm still none the wiser, and my self-recrimination kick looks set to continue for a while because I still don't want to just shrug and blame the computer or the software.

I'd explained the problem as best I could to the MD, told him that I own my mistakes and that it was entirely my fault because I didn't check my output before sending it to the Printers, but that I'd done everything I normally would in those situations, so I didn't understand why it had gone wrong. I also told him that, once I discovered the problem, I was able to correct it simply by dealing with the final output in a different way, so all my output since has been rock solid.

It was comforting to find that my MD shares my loathing for people who say such things as "I don't know what the problem is, but I can tell you it wasn't my fault!"

It's not really comforting to find that, whatever the problem was, it is specific to my work machine after all...

Sunday, 27 April 2014

Blithe Behaviour

It occurred to me recently that I've neglected to blog about something that happened back at the beginning of March.

Back in January/February, I became aware of a production of Blithe Spirit running at the Gielgud theatre. I'm pretty sure I've seen a movie version of that and, while I'm quite keen on theatre, the play itself wasn't necessarily a massive draw. What actually sold me a pair of tickets (because I was bringing my girlfriend along) was that the cast included the legendary Angela Lansbury.

Now, in all honesty, I'm only even aware of Angela Lansbury largely because of the formulaic-but-fun US murder mystery show Murder, She Wrote. Considering she's a veteran of about 70 years in the business and over 100 roles on screens large and small, that's really not good going on my part. I think I've probably seen the much-despised version of The Lady Vanishes in which she plays Miss Froy, and I'm fairly sure I've seen her as Miss Marple... but I tend to associate her more with Jessica Fletcher than anything else.

Now, of course, I'm likely to associate her more with the doddering, probably fraudulent medium Madame Arcati in Blithe Spirit, if only because it's been so long since I've seen Murder, She Wrote and because she performs the part in her native English accent rather than the adopted American she picked up for her most enduring TV role.

The evening didn't get off to a great start as, despite being no stranger to theatre, I'd figured that the time on the ticket (7.30pm) was 'doors open' rather than 'performance begins' and we only arrived with about ten minutes to spare. We were directed down to one side of the theatre, but I realised that our seats were closer to the opposite side, so we wandered round the outside of the auditorium to get there.

There's a cliché about attending the theatre (or even the cinema) where you arrive late, and there's a seriously overweight person sitting right at the end of the row, who's reluctant to admit anyone else because it's uncomfortable (or merely inconvenient) for them to move...

Gentle reader, I can now say from personal experience that this does actually happen sometimes. The gentleman at the end of the row was even a cliché within the cliché, equipped with an old-fashioned lace fan stuffed into his shirt pocket, a thin goatee and the kind of whiney voice that borders on falsetto. Since I'd realised we were effectively late, I made a point of being polite when asking if we could get past, to our seats. His immediate response was to whine and suggest that we enter the row from the other end. I pointed out - again, politely and in a light, friendly tone - that our seats were closer to this end (which was to imply that we'd be inconveniencing far more people to enter from the other). He whined again as he got up and suggested again that we should enter from the other end, but did move aside to admit us. After him, we passed in front of maybe five or six others to get to our seat, when it would have been at least twice that number from the other side... though, admittedly, those people may have been less grumpy about it.

When the house lights came down and the play started, I became worried that a guy in the row in front of us would be giving a running commentary as, when the first line of dialogue was uttered on stage, all I heard was him saying "I can't hear what they're saying". Some people, seriously, should not ever consider attending the theatre if they're unable to prevent themselves self-narrating.

Granted, there seemed to be some issues with the speakers on the righthand side of the auditorium (yes, speakers - gone are the days when actors on stage are expected to project their voice to the Grand Circle). Any actor standing stage left tended to sound a little crackly or distorted. Everywhere else seemed fine, though I did find Angela Lansbury a bit difficult to follow sometimes - her speech was quieter than some of the others.

It was a very entertaining evening, as one would expect from a Noël Coward play featuring not only Angela Lansbury but Simon Jones (Arthur Dent from the old TV series of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy) along with Jemima Rooper (last seen by me in the supernatural 'thriller' Hex, about ten years ago), Janie Dee and Charles Edwards (both of whom looked familiar). It did seem remarkably dark for a comedy, and one could hardly describe the end as 'happy', but the performances throughout were excellent (if, occasionally, a little muffled). The highlight of the evening, for me, was when Madame Arcati (Lansbury) started careening around the stage, getting into her trance-state. At one point, I'd swear she was either going to start dancing the Robot... or possibly a bit of light breakdancing.

One of the most impressive aspects of the show was the lighting - whoever rigged it all did a fantastic job, with electric lights doing an amazing job of emulating variable daylight and flickering firelight. Half the time, it was so subtle I wasn't completely sure the light levels were actually changing until I concentrated on that rather than the play. Also, the way the set collapsed at the end (intentionally, unlike that incident at the Apollo!) was very well-handled.

Really must try to keep an eye on what's on in the theatres... Self-absorbed and inconsiderate patrons aside (and their numbers do seem to be on the increase) it's always a fun experience.

Saturday, 19 April 2014

Amazing Again

Popped out to see The Amazing Spider-Man 2 yesterday, and it occurs to me I've been rather lax in my movie reviews lately. To be honest, I haven't seen that many so far this year. Before Captain America 2, I think the last movie I saw was Frozen, at Christmas. Let's see what I can do to redress this balance.

On the subject of Disney's latest re-telling of an old folk tale, all I'll say is that I really enjoyed it, it's very well done, beautifully designed, and goes rather against the grain when it comes to Disney's tales involving love stories. On the subject of the controversy surrounding that song, all I'll say is that it is most upsetting when religious groups obsess and fixate on the 'evils' they infer from the lyrics, when the song is purely and simply about self-acceptance. This wouldn't be the first time that I've felt that some religious institutions (or the poisonous vocal minorities therein) would prefer their members to despise themselves, deriving their only comfort in life from the idea that God loves them, even though no-one else can. Faith can accomplish much, certainly, but religion these days tends to be a system of repression second only to the so-called democratic goverments we in the 'free world' hold so dear and yet, through apathy and media-fuelled fear, allow to erode our freedoms in the name of 'security'.

Wow. That rant went a bit further than intended.

Interesting, then, that it leads in perfectly to Captain America 2, in which the patriotic hero is faced with the idea that his own employers and his own government might be his greatest enemy. Of course, it turns out that Hydra is back (or rather, it's never been away, just quietly infiltrating the seats of power)... but it's so cleverly done - not just for a Marvel movie, it's a surprisingly intelligent spy thriller even without the licensed characters - and makes for a truly riveting movie. The action is brilliant throughout and, while fast-paced, it never becomes impossible to follow. The introduction of the Winter Soldier was well-done (speaking as someone who never read the comics) and I'm very keen to see where the story continues from here, given the state of SHIELD by the end of the movie. Possibly my favourite sequence involved Jenny Agutter beating the living shit out of a couple of enemy agents, before revealing she was actually Black Widow (Scarlet Johanssen, playing it rather different to her previous outings in Iron Man 2 and Avengers) in some kind of holographic disguise. Nevertheless, it was awesome to see Agutter taking on that kind of role... she's come a long way since The Railway Children. I think my only complaint about the movie is that some of the product placement is incredibly blatant. There's a bit in and Apple store where the camera very deliberately re-frames itself - while you watch - to ensure it includes the name of the product the protagonists are using to dig through a secret file.

The Amazing Spider-Man 2, meanwhile, breaks the mold in a very different way. I quite liked Sam Raimi's trilogy (well, the first two, anyway) and found Tobey Maguire mostly likeable in his take on Peter Parker and Spider-Man... But Andy Garfield is a better build for Spider-Man - he's tall and lean, while Maguire is shorter and stockier - and this version of the character is substantially less whiney. When Amazing 2 was first announced, I was rather worried that the glut of villains - Electro (Jamie Foxx doing an excellent job as the meek, geeky electrical engineer and the menacing master of electricity, even though his origin story is deeply implausible (hey, it's a comic book movie... they're allowed!) and some of the Electro effects seemed to be a direct rip-off of Doc Manhatten from Watchmen), Green Goblin (a mixture of the rather different idea used in Raimi's first Spidey flick and basically skipping straight to the Harry Osborne version of the Green Goblin, neatly re-using the electronic pumpkin bombs from Raimi's version) and the Rhino (Paul Giamatti... cast very much against type and clearly revelling in the fun!) - but their introductions were dealt with surprisingly well compared to the travesty that was Spider-Man 3. Also surprising considering the two highest-billed screenwriters were the same pair of idiots that turned wrote a movie about an irritating teenager buying his first car and then slapped some shape-shifting alien robots onto it. I find it bizarre that Kurtzman and Orci are capable of writing (or re-writing) very good screenplays, yet their work on the TransFormers franchise was execrable. A similar dichotomy presents itself in Akiva Goldsman, who wrote the screenplays for A Beautiful Mind and Batman & Robin.

But I digress. Spider-Man, more than most of the other characters in the Marvel pantheon, is about the impact super powers have on a boy's attempts to live a normal life while also living up to the ideals of his father-figure (the famous line being "with great power comes great responsibility"). Being Spider-Man allows Peter Parker to be the greatest version of himself (also the most obnoxiously motor-mouthed, but that's just a side effect of the anonymity granted by the mask, I guess), but it also means those around him are constantly in danger. Interestingly, this movie goes to great lengths to tell Peter that he's ultimately not responsible for other people's choices and actions (a similar theme presents itself in the series of books I was reading earlier in the year). I'm not entirely sure about it's take on the perils of hero-worship, not least because one character goes from loving Spider-Man to wanting to kill him rather too quickly. Despite packing a hell of a lot of story into just under two and a half hours, it remains coherent throughout and doesn't squander the characters. Marvel do seem to have been bitten by the Joss Whedon bug where, just when you think certain characters are going to have a happy - though not ideal - ending, one of them gets horrifically killed but, again, Amazing 2 doesn't squander the moment. It makes for a very tense sequence (it's rare that I'm literally on the edge of my seat, but I did find afterward that I'd been leaning forward during that bit) that gives you just enough hope for a positive outcome that the actual death is shocking. It is said that Sony are setting us up for the Sinister Six... and, in the wake of Amazing 2, that's a far more exciting proposition than I'd expected.

On the way home, I passed a guy hobbling along the platform toward the train on a crutch and then, while walking down the inside of the train, I heard a loud thump behind me. Turning round, all I saw was a couple of women glancing behind them then quickly turning back round. It didn't take long for me to figure out that the guy with the crutch might have fallen over, so I dashed back - I was at least halfway down the carriage at this point - to help him up. As it turns out, the driver had decided to close the door just as he was boarding, knocking him off-balance. He was already well on his way to finding his feet by the time I got to him, but he thanked me for the help nonetheless. He'd dropped a laptop he was carrying (he muttered something about either selling it or giving it to his mother) which had popped open, dislodging its hard disk in the process. It seemed to pop back together easily enough once I'd got the disk back in place, but he was concerned it would be ruined. I was more concerned that no-one closer to the accident had seen fit to help the guy... I mean, seriously, you don't have to be a super hero to help another human being, do you?