Tag Archives: Ariel

Reading and Writing Challenge Month – Day 2


Ok so I’ve started writing this with just minutes to go until the dawn of day 3, and things are yet to get into full swing. In fact they’ve barely begun. I’ve entitled this post “Day 2” but Day 1 was non-existent in terms of reading. Day 2 has been little better.

I’m hoping that at some unknown juncture there will come a turning point. Something will simply click and I shall start to bulldozer my objectives in an all out, joyous and unstoppable blitz. In the past I’ve tended to tackle projects with this rather unsustainable method; gradually formulate ideas and then unleash them in a single brief frenzy. There is of course the possibility of very total and publicised failure.

I’m determined to succeed and for once see something through to the end productively. Today in one of the few moments I did dedicate to the challenge, I grouped stacks of books I aimed to devour this month into one daunting pile. It was off-putting and the task seemed insurmountable, but it gave me something to focus on. The opening days of the challenge have been filled with life’s distractions but soon isolation I usually dread will kick in and give me time to hunker down.

Given how impossible the task is starting to seem, I decided to begin with baby steps to ease myself in. I therefore chose books that were less dense and less mountainous to climb. The sort of thing you can snatch things from. So I quickly consumed some poems from Sylvia Plath’s collection, Ariel and mulled them over looking at the sea in dazzling sunshine. Some of the imagery seemed so true and touching such as, “The window square whitens and swallows its dull stars”, but in my rushed, excitable state of mind some poems and lines left me baffled, clueless, unmoved and adrift.

I also purchased an audio book, on a shopping trip with the purpose of equipping myself for a return to playing football. I’ve never experience an audio book and was inspired by this challenge to try it. It gave me an idea for a piece on different types of reading and the future of reading. This is one of my major flaws I’m afraid. I amass ideas and things to read/watch/listen to and get bogged down with so many I do not achieve them. However hopefully this will be different. Hopefully. I have lots of ideas for other articles and thoughts and intend to carry them out. (The audiobook was last year’s booker winner, The Finkler Question by Howard Jacobsen, by the way)

I bought The Day of the Triffids by John Wyndham a couple of years ago for my EPQ on science fiction in the Cold War period. I didn’t use the book in the end and never got round to reading it. At the time I was sick of science fiction after studying so much of it so intensely. But I did enjoy everything about it; the ideas, imagination, ethics, history, imagery. Everything. So I’m aiming to make Triffids my first proper read and rekindle the passion. Perhaps I’ll attempt some sci-fi of my own.

The Sartorialist by Scott Schuman is essentially a picture book, full of stylish, fashionable people. It’s not my usual sort of thing. But reading it (or watching it) is surprisingly fulfilling, enlightening and enjoyable. It’s a nice way in to my challenge; a thick book encapsulating so much of society, but one easy to consume.

I sit on my bed with The Sartorialist and Triffids, determined not to sleep until I’ve had a good go at both. I’m also about to finish a film review. I can feel the tiredness dragging at my face as the clock has just turned to midnight and signalled the start of Day 3. Will it be the day I get my act together?

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Catfish


When I first heard about Catfish, it sounded like a ramshackle film cobbled together to capitalise on Facebook fever, and in particular, the enormous success of David Fincher’s The Social Network. Looking deeper, at the artwork and a synopsis of the plot, I was inclined to think the same thing. The visual design of the title and posters, whilst clearly modelled on the Facebook logo itself, unavoidably now conjure associations with The Social Network, a wonderfully shot, acted and scripted film that seems destined to claim best picture at the imminent Oscars ceremony. The vague summaries of the plot of Catfish all make it sound like the generic, potentially lucrative tale anyone would decide to tell about the phenomenon of social networking. It’s described as a “reality thriller” and the production companies settled on tag-lines like “Think before you click.”

But then there was the avalanche of positive critical comment surrounding the film. A quick check on Rotten Tomatoes will show up a healthy 81% fresh rating but dig deeper once again and you’ll find some reviews that give Catfish unbelievably glowing, game-changing references.  It’s enthusiastically endorsed by various newspapers; The Mail, The Guardian, The Mirror, The Telegraph and The News of The World. The decisive factor that swayed me to ensure I saw it a.s.a.p. however was the recommendation of characteristically cynical movie blog, Ultra Culture.

Ultra Culture hailed Catfish as its film of 2010. The explanation of this choice is eloquent and as funny as always and does an admirable job of trying to touch on all the big, intellectual reasons Catfish is so masterfully compulsive and spot-on, as well as the smaller reasons it’s a quality piece of filmmaking. Any review of the story will fail to capture the myriad of ways it could be interpreted. Such is its nature and its accurate reflection and encapsulation of the interconnectivity of our times.

Let’s start with those smaller reasons Catfish is just, plain and simple, good. It has a captivating original soundtrack, which perfectly complements the action of the story. In many ways the soundtrack is as varied as the narrative itself, encompassing everything from sentimental, heart-warming songs to lively, modern pieces which keep things interesting during transitional moments consisting mainly of screen-shots from a computer. These in-depth snippets of technology are crucial to the feel of the film; quotes from Facebook chats, pictures, YouTube videos or Google earth animations, all handled beautifully and interestingly. Catfish feels at once relevant and familiar, without ever becoming boring.

Then there’s the dubious documentary status of the movie. Catfish falls into that guaranteed hype-inducing category of projects that may or may not be staged. Most reviewers, myself included, conclude that Catfish does not feel faked, despite some clearly crafted moments. More importantly the majority of verdicts on Catfish state in black and white that they couldn’t care less whether or not the events are real. As David Edwards in The Daily Mirror says; “Is it real? When a film’s this good, that becomes secondary.”

What’s the general gist of this snapshot of contemporary life then? Well, as is so often the case with genuinely fantastic films, to say too much would spoil the experience. It’s also so many things and deals with so many themes, that it’s impossible to categorise. Essentially though Catfish is a refreshingly hands-on, unique take on the internet, and specifically relationships conducted over the web and purely by virtual means. The key figure, Nev, begins the film receiving inspirational packages from an eight year old girl, who paints. Her creations are increasingly based on Nev’s photography and then his life and appearance in general. Nev and his filmmaking friends eventually journey to meet his artistic pen-pal and her family. Nev’s even fallen for her older sister. But who are we to know what love really is?

In many ways the transformation of the film from an uplifting hymn to the connecting, liberating power of the web into something darker, is predictable. The warnings it holds about forged identities and the potential for sinister outlets are there. But as several reviews, including Ultra Culture’s, point out, Catfish is not meant to be a powerful cautionary tale about complacent trust online. What confirms this is the surprisingly insightful explanation of the title, delivered in working class tones by a simple character as the film concludes. Catfish, he explains, were used to exercise cod fish as they were shipped on long journeys. This kept their flesh fresh and stopped them becoming tasteless. We need enigmatic, metaphorical Catfish in our lives, to “keep us on our toes” and give life spicy variety.

To inadequately sum up then: Catfish is a gripping mystery, packed with incredibly emotional moments. Its twists and turns are always beguiling, stunning and (mostly) unpredictable. It is both sinister and disturbing, and heart-warming and stirring. At 83 minutes it’s the most concise and thrilling “documentary” you’re ever likely to see. It’s funny. Most importantly of all it’s a study of the realities of our modern existence. It highlights more themes than I can mention but ultimately uncovers the unifying, depressing deceptions of millions of lives. You’ve never seen anything quite like it.

 The Social Network is a worthy Oscar winner and a truly fabulous story about the origins of Facebook and the excesses of its creators. Catfish however, is the real movie about the internet, about the actual effects of social networking. I now understand the marketing around Catfish and it wasn’t all about jumping on the Facebook bandwagon. The Social Network was rarely about Facebook itself; Catfish explores some of the same universal themes of the human condition, and more, and is genuinely THE Facebook movie.