Movie Review ...... Avatar in 3D
It has taken director James Cameron some 13 years to bring this much anticipated movie to the screen, it's involved the invention of new filming techniques, new cgi technologies and radically different blending of live and cgi animated characters. 13 years well spent in my opinion, it's hardly an original tale but it is nearly 3 hours of an immersive, engaging, entertaining adventure. Cameron makes some fairly obvious points, for those in doubt, war, corporate greed and exploitation of the natives are all bad things, being in tune with nature is pretty much a good thing. To be honest even those of us bought up with the Cowboys and Indians concept have learnt to avoid the trap of assuming that possession of the cap pistol confers automatic superiority so that's ok. Surely there are predictable and heavy messages but it's not preachy, it's by turns, sad, amusing, exciting but always a thing of immense visual beauty, those of my readership who can still recall Roger Dean's magical album covers for Yes with mountains and lakes suspended in mid-air will be delighted to see this realisation of those dreams and the walk through the bio-luminescent forest is a joy.
I loved it, I think it's probably less attractive to those without the sci-fi appreciation gene but I'd recommend anyone with a passion for cinema to make the effort to see it on a big screen, I'm still not convinced that 3D makes that much difference. There's an obvious plot problem which is dealt with cleverly and Cameron has made much of the way they've captured the real expressions of the live actors in the virtual characters, I think he's being modest, it works a treat, the big blue folk seem real, enjoy, I commend it to you.
An Avatar haiku...
Audience arrives
engage in bright blue lives,
storytelling thrives
Paying pennies for convenience, not what you think...
I occasionally park in a car park in the lovely Mediterranean city paradise that is Woking, There was a simple and convenient system for parking in the council owned car parks...
Of a moonlit winters morning, I'd drive, in the deep,dark gloom into the car park, park the car then:
- stick a credit card into a machine
- press a button to indicate the number of hours I was parking for
- put the ticket in the car
- that's it, simple, dare i say convenient.
There's a new system now, the credit card slot has been disabled by the skilled application of some duct tape, so,
the first time I tried to park I had to:
- dial a telephone number on my mobile
- dictate my registration number 7 digits
- confirm the description of my car 1 digit
- input a code for the particular car park 4 digits
- input the number of hours I wanted to stay 1 digit
- Input my credit card number 16 digits
- the expiry date, 4 digits
- the validation number 3 digits
- Then, adding injury to insult, listen to the voice of the machine informing me that, (over and above the cost of the call) there would be a 20p convenience charge
Admittedly all my credit card details are now recorded on a database somewhere which makes it easy and convenient for Them to take my money in future, and admittedly there's value and convenience to Them in centralising and outsourcing the management of their parking facilities.
What I'm annoyed by is that I'm being charged 20 english pennies and paying for a phone call and being told how convenient that is, to me?
I don't see it.
One of life's little Pheasantries
A while ago my lovely wife booked us a romantic weekend in the Lake District, those of you with good memories will recall the awful tale, those of you with strong stomachs may revisit our Windermere hell here. You may be sure, my gentle readers that it was with no small amount of trepidation that we bravely entered 
the Lake District, en-route to a shooting weekend in Bonnie Scotland, our nervousness heightened by the fact that our hostelry of choice was a scant eight miles from Cockermouth recently featured on the national news as a scene of flood-wrought doom and destruction.
The Pheasant, much to our delight turned out to be an ancient inn, apparently a haunt of John Peel, (you do ken John Peel don't you?). The Inn boasts a large amount of beams, history,woodsmoke, oak and pine furniture, creaks, odd passages and hooty owls which deliver just the right amount of Olde Englis
h quaintness.
The staff are mostly young, mostly antipodean and without exception very good, there's a great winelist and an ambitious and inventive, (mostly successfully) chef.
It sits alongside Bassenthwaite Lake and I honestly can't think of a good reason why one wouldn't visit for a quiet Cumbrian weekend, a gustatory and bibulous stop on a northward trek or a base for a climbing or rambling break.
Gentle reader, I commend it to you
Labels: Bassenthwaite, cockermouth, Inn, Pheasant
