Three Lions

England are going home! These words have become a familiar part of my even-year summers, the agonising reality that once again we weren’t quite good enough to make the cut into the next round. Sunday night was no different (http://www.bbc.co.uk/sport/0/football/18355305) except, it was different. For the first time in as long as I can remember this is the first time England have crashed out of a major competition in a sportsmanlike manner. The referee was largely unbiased - dubious decision not to award Rooney a free kick when he was taken down from behind but apart from that, a couple of yellow cards and more importantly for England – no red cards, speaks volumes about the way this ref handled the game. Even the line officials got it right when what certainly would have been the Italian winner was flagged offside. Most of all though I was impressed by Italy’s sportsmanship. I cannot remember a single incident of play-acting or feigning injury (normally how England players get sent off).
I woke up on Monday morning, not with the sour taste of defeat or the bitterness of what-might-have-been.

I’m proud of this England team; proud of what we achieved at Euro 2012. In normal time we played 4, lost none. In true Hodgson fashion we played like a mid-table Premier League team; made it as difficult as possible for the opposition, nick a goal when you can and play with heart and passion. I believe we achieved all of these things. Pretty on the eye it weren’t but the passion and heart was there and anyone who says it wasn’t can’t have been watching the same game(s).

I cannot say the best team didn’t win on Sunday, of course I can’t but it would have been a wonderful thing to have won that shoot out and meet the Germans in the semis. No hard feelings towards Young & Cole for missing their penalties, it’s just one of those things and it’s something that I’ve become very used to.

Roll on Brasil 2014 and roll on crashing out of the competition prematurely!!

Thanks for the memories England x

War Horse: A Historic Tragedy

I just went to see Steven Spielberg’s new film War Horse hoping to come out of the cinema full of awe and wonder. In reality, I walked out feeling rather let down and deflated; I would have demanded a refund except that I’ve got Cineworld Unlimited so I can’t really quantify my loss in monetary terms. I’m gutted with myself for hyping it up to friends and family – the trailer portrayed and promised so much more than was delivered. 

In early 2011 I went to see the stage production and was completely blown away – it was a masterpiece; a magnificent triumph of British theatre. When I learnt that Spielberg was making a feature-length film, it felt like all my Christmases rolled into one. I spent the last few months counting down the days – like woman waiting for the next Twilight instalment.

Historically and geographically speaking, it was so far off mark it would be like making a film about Bronx gangs and setting it in Sherwood Forest; The architecture of the northern French/Belgian farm houses and villages was about as accurate as depicting Elephant and Castle being full of Bel-Air mansions. During the final battle, that historically took place in August 1918, it began to snow. The screw-picketed barbed wire barriers that are synonymous with the First World War were replaced by rows of log A-frame trestles which looked like something left over from a Vietnam movie. Nazi P.O.W. camp-era watch towers popped up twenty-five years early and apparently the Germans were stupid enough to set up a battery of heavy artillery on the top of a hill. The battlefields and trenches themselves resembled computer game levels and whatever was up with those Disney sunsets…?!

Far-fetched popular clichés of a war that spanned four years were crammed into single scene with some Hollywood icing on top. It reminded me a lot of Ken Annakin’s 1965 film The Battle Of The Bulge which was supposed to be a portrayal of the US Army’s bitter struggle against the German army in 1944-45 in the heavily forested Ardennes forest in Belgium – however the film was made in Spain and the similarities between the location portrayed and the location it was filmed were galaxies apart.

As a history buff with several dozen books on the subject under my belt, I felt that my knowledge of World War One was insulted somewhat and I feel that War Horse offers an unbalanced and disproportionate view of where and how the war was fought on the Western Front. I’m so surprised by Spielberg’s apparent lack of attention to detail following his masterful triumph with HBO series Band Of Brothers. I thought this man could do no wrong when it came to bringing to life these World-changing historic events.

It’s difficult to not want to take anything away from the actual storyline itself, which while being unashamedly fictional unfortunately did display many improbabilities rendering it just another war fantasy with very little scope for believable truth. The screenplay moved at a hundred miles an hour yet pausing to drag out certain scenes that in all honesty I could have used to have a toilet break. The film’s timeline jumped from circa-late 1914 to mid-1918 in a single fade without any real suggestion of the war’s longevity.

I am most disappointed because the film that I thought would be the best war film of the century has, in my opinion, epically failed. The stage production completely and utterly KO’s the film and I can even picture the original book manuscript wiping its own backside with a piece of 35mm reel used during production. Fortunately the acting isn’t quite as bad as the historic inaccuracies so thankfully there’s a bit of salvation there however it’s one DVD I definitely won’t be adding to my collection.

The egg on my face will take a few weeks to clean off since I promised boastfully to my wife that I would go “every night this week” to watch it – of course, that was before I saw it, and one a promise I have no remorse for breaking. Apparently Kate Windsor, the Duchess of Cambridge cried her eyes out at the premier and I don’t blame her – I was on the verge of tears myself…tears of disappointment.

I know it’s a fictional story about a boy and his horse but I just wish now that it hadn’t been associated with World War One having seen how it turned out on the big screen.

My conclusion? Don’t judge a film by its trailer.

Cover Songs: Deal or No Deal?

I do love a bit of Karaoke; a random Thursday night in a pub that’s been designed to look much older than it actually is; farming implements adorn the walls. The bloke at the bar on a stool hasn’t moved all night, occasionally engages the bar staff in conversation. There’s a big blonde chick walking around who seems to know everyone and you can’t quite figure out if she’s an employee or a regular. Then you’ve got Mike and his Karaoke machine; his little black book is making its way slowly around the room. Usually I’d thumb through to S and find Simon & Garfunkel…

Then you’ve got the classic Open Mic night. In my opinion, more dangerous than Karaoke; a minefield of hits and misses, weirdos and undiscovered talent mingle alike. At least with Karaoke people know the songs to sing along to. I’ve been to Open Mic nights where performers have taken the audience on their personal journey, painstakingly crooning their way through their “latest song”, an insight into their chaotic lives where in fact you feel you’d actually be more comfortable sitting naked at your place of work massaging Bovril into your hair, having your feet immersed into cold ketchup and subsequently licked by a delinquent dog. You raise your glass to take a drink, pausing briefly to cringe as the performer lets fly another drawn out chorus of “I looooooooved yoooooooou!” You glance around the room and know that everyone is secretly thinking the same thing, “Why didn’t he just sing Wonderwall?!”

Cover songs serve a purpose – of course they do. They’re entertaining; people know where they stand however there is one thing that really rubs me up the wrong way and that is professional Karaoke singers – people I’m talking mainly about X-Factor. Don’t get me wrong, I haven’t missed the fact that it is a fantastically entertaining show with all the ensuing drama that goes with it. What annoys me the most is the fact that millions of people actually believe that these professional Karaoke artists are genuinely talented folk with the gravitas to shift millions of albums based entirely on the sound of their voice and their ‘huge’ talent. I’ve met singer-songwriters at open mic nights that have more talent in their plectrum than a sounder* of X-Factor finalists. Recently someone called Sophie Habibis sang “Wherever You Will Go” on X-Factor, but amazingly she wasn’t covering The Calling, she was covering a cover-version released by Charlene Soraia. Now whoever heard of a cover, being covered?! The sad reality is that younger generations will probably think that “WYWG” was written by Soraia herself; the same way that perhaps many think that Leona Lewis’ cover of Snow Patrol’s “Run” was her original work of art…

I’m not knocking entertainment value but I am having a dig at so called ‘artists’ who ‘make it’ singing other (and way more talented) artists work. I quite liked Damon Rice’s original ‘Cannonball’ but then, again in my opinion, it has been ruined by Little Mix and it makes a mockery of true talent. They don’t even operate complex harmonies and that song is just crying out for something like that!!!!

While I think that most covers should be confined to pub Karaoke, Open Mic nights and tribute bands that comprise of four overweight gents in their late 40’s, I do believe that covers can augment an original set, so I’m not dead set against them – I just hate seeing them propel singers (note I didn’t say artists) to heady heights, giving them a false sense of self-assured giftedness which I do not believe they possess.

Noel Gallagher once said of the long-forgotten Rick Waller, “Where’s his guitar? Has he written any songs?” and then Noel just shrugged his shoulders and smirked. To me, that said it all.

*Google collective nouns