Modern Toss capturing the bargain basement state of the country in 2025
So, how are things? For me, I can’t say that 2025 was a vast improvement on 2024, but I’m keeping on keeping on. I tend towards incoherent rage in relation to the (in)actions of the UK Government – as I said before they were elected, I’m not enamoured of the current iteration of the UK Labour Party, so I didn’t have high expectations of what they would get up to in power, but the lack of imagination, ambition, and basic human decency has nonetheless been dispiriting. I hope that they get thoroughly trounced in the local elections in May (*notwithstanding the worry about who exactly will be the beneficiary of that collapse), although they will probably fail to learn the appropriate lessons and continue to tack right, following the Tories into electoral irrelevance.
On the more positive side of events in 2025, I’ve continued growing plants from seed and progressed with learning French (anything remotely constructive counts as being life-enhancing in the current climate). I completed the InnerFrench ‘Build Your Strong Core‘ course I mentioned in last year’s round-up (recommended) and although I didn’t continue with formal courses in the second half of the year, I kept up practice by using the Lingvist app (kind of a flashcard app, but requiring you to fill in missing words in sentences), and listening to a lot of contemporary French music (stand-out discoveries: Grand Corps Malade; Solann; and Barbara Pravi). And I read a whole book in French (not a study book)! I’ve still got the second half of the intermediate course to do on StoryLearning, and I have also paid for a couple more courses on InnerFrench – I just need to get a bit organised and plan time in to do them regularly.
Today I got a notification from WordPress saying that it was the blog anniversary. It’s actually the day I registered to start setting things up when I was transferring over from blogspot after 4.5 years – my first post on here was on 20th August 2015.
I recently came across a stash of film posters in the loft, all ones that I had on my walls in my teens and twenties. I was struck by how much my tastes have changed; although there were films that I still rate highly, there were none that I would put on my walls now (and some where I genuinely can’t understand why I bought the poster). Maybe life experience causes things to read differently, but I’d also say that film is no longer as central to my life as it was back then…and falling in love with a film now usually involves buying the soundtrack rather than the poster. The image above* is part of the repeating pattern in the blog header, updated in 2023 because the 2015 original didn’t reflect my then-current viewing habits or tastes…I’d probably choose different films again now, so that may be something I re-do before the year is over. [* it includes three films that I’ve had posters of (none of which I found in the loft) and two where I bought the soundtrack]
I’m currently in a fallow period with the blog – I’ve decided that I’m only going to post if I have something to say, and at the moment…I don’t have anything to say about films or cinema. I haven’t watched many films so far this year, and likely won’t post anything about specific films unless something really grabs me. Stuff that may or may not make an appearance at some point: I’ve still got a stack of older French films to watch, stemming from Tavernier’s documentaries but also going off on some tangents when I’ve liked an actor or filmmaker; Radiance are releasing Carlos Saura’s first film – Los golfos / The Delinquents (1962) – on Blu-ray, so I may watch that to see if it’s any different to the version I’ve seen previously; and I liked this short video essay about Sophia Loren on the BFI Player, so some Loren films could be in the mix as well (incidentally, if you’re interested in Loren, I recommend Pauline Small’s book about her career, one of the few star studies that considers the commercial and industrial contexts that shaped the development of a star’s image).
At some point last year, WordPress removed the ability have lists of links in the side bar (at least with the blog design I’m using – I don’t know if it’s possible with a different template, and tbh can’t be bothered to faff around finding out). It used to be possible to add a list widget and set it to a category of links already saved in the back end. I can see that lists can be added but, as far as I can tell, you have to add each thing individually rather using a dropdown to apply a group of links in one go. So, if I have to add stuff individually, I think it’s better to do it in a post (so it can’t disappear in its entirety again) and then see if I can just add a link to this post of links in the side bar.
I added the main links to my writing elsewhere to the About page at the end of 2024 – those links should take you to all of my writing on the named sites. However, I also want individual links to pieces, mainly because I find it easier to find stuff when I’ve saved a direct link. I’m going to use some of the same categories I previously had in the side bar to divide things up – interviews, festival reports, reviews – but instead of grouping the reviews by the year they were written, I’m going to divide them into some sub-categories where there are multiple pieces that could be grouped together (e.g. reviews of documentaries, Spanish films, films relating to ‘el otro cine español’). Some may appear in more than one sub-category.
I’m also going to link to pieces written either here or on the old blog where I’ve focussed on a single film (excluding the Carlos Saura Challenge because that’s a series of linked posts) – they’re not really ‘reviews’ per se (they tend to be more expansive, and sometimes relate to films that I’ve reviewed but had more to say than would be appropriate in review format, but sometimes it’s just something I wrote after watching). I’ll put blog posts in with the reviews but mark them with *.
Well, I had plans for 2024, but you know how that goes. A stressful combination of circumstances early in the year meant that anything that wasn’t a necessity had to be put aside. Blogging was definitely not a priority. So 2024 will get a round-up post, and hopefully I’ll start afresh in 2025.
Copyright Edith Pritchett, published in The Guardian 6th Nov 2023. I’m not enamoured with the current iteration of the UK Labour Party (I would like something to vote for, not simply to vote against something/someone else…but they either don’t seem to know what they stand for, or they really think the country needs/wants Tory Lite [we don’t, FYI]), but they’ve got to be better than the collection of cruel incompetents we’ve been stuck with for far too long.I’ve had a bit of an odd year. Not as odd as 2020, admittedly, but a weirdly disjointed twelve months nonetheless. I had covid in early February, which knocked me sideways energy-wise for a couple of months, and left me feeling like I was playing catch-up during the first half of the year. By the summer I was feeling more myself and making plans for various things (including writing intentions alluded to in my viewing posts), but then I had gastroenteritis in August, which completely knocked me off my stride and effectively buggered all plans I had intended for the remainder of the year. September and October seemed to solely consist of going to work and sleeping. So although my viewing picked up considerably this year, it’s still not what it might have been, and you’ll see that my reading is significantly down on the past few years.
Bloomsbury, publisher of the BFI’s books (including the indispensable BFI Film Classics series), currently have a sale on their site – you can get 25% off using the code BTU23UK (most of the books already have a discount if purchased via the publisher’s website, but that code takes the full discount off at the check-out). Given the price of film books, I thought I’d pass that on.
I have purchased the above book, which is quite the tome, and I’m looking forward to dipping into old and new pieces by one of my favourite film writers. I’m now going to go back and see whether the code works on pre-orders, as I’d like Pamela Hutchinson’s forthcoming book on The Red Shoes. [Update: it doesn’t work on pre-orders, but the discount lasts until 8th October and the book is published on the 5th…so I will return!].
It’s almost impossible to find a photo of Saura where he isn’t holding a stills camera. This one is taken from here.
I’ve currently got Covid, so I’m not feeling up to writing anything at the moment, but at some point I will circle back to the Carlos Saura Challenge, to at least pull together some thoughts about the career of someone whose work I’ve returned to repeatedly during the lifetime of this blog (and my previous one).
Those unfamiliar with his passion for photography can find some information in this article, or in the short documentary about turning his work from the 1950s into a book [trailer below].
For the third year in a row (and with three Prime Ministers in a single year), the best encapsulation of life in the United Kingdom
Viewing:
Films I watched in 2022
At the end of last year, after a dismal viewing record, I set myself the target of watching at least twenty-five films – and I made it (just)! All but the last seven were watched before Easter, so I still haven’t managed to get into a routine of watching films regularly. This is partly because I spend more time outside when the weather and light allows, but also because reading is still my dominant method of relaxation. I don’t see any need to “rectify” the latter, but I would like to try to sustain my engagement with films throughout the year.
As planned, I took Bertrand Tavernier’s documentary film and TV series on French cinema as an inspiration for kickstarting my viewing habits, and started by re-watching the two in order to refresh both my memory and my enthusiasm. Apart from La Ronde (Max Ophüls, 1950), they were all first time views. I had said that I would aim to watch at least half a dozen of the films he featured, but you’ll see from the image above that I trebled that tally and they make up the bulk of the films I’ve watched in the past twelve months. And I’ve only scratched the surface…I have at least as many again on my shelves waiting to be watched – I’m intending to continue with my own journey through French cinema in 2023.
Apart from French cinema, it has mainly been documentaries with a couple of diversions into recent features, namely Everything Everywhere All At Once (the Daniels, 2022) and Glass Onion (Rian Johnson, 2022), both of which I thoroughly enjoyed. But I think my top three for the year were: Le corbeau (Henri-Georges Clouzot, 1943), Quai deOrfévres (Henri-Georges Clouzot, 1947), and Antoine et Antoinette (Jacques Becker, 1947).
Some cinematic moments that lingered in 2022:
Sylvia Bataille in Partie de campagne (Jean Renoir, 1946)
The brio of the camera movement in Justin de Marseille (Maurice Tourneur, 1935). [earlier in the year there was a trailer online for Pathé’s restoration, but I can’t currently find it].
Suzy Delair’s Mila Malou twitching her nose at fiancé Inspector Wenceslas Wens (Pierre Fresnay) when she gatecrashes his undercover operation in L’assassin habite au 21 (Henri-Georges Clouzot, 1943).
Jean Gabin being doomed in pretty much everything.
Starting to recognise the names of actors I hadn’t encountered before this year and then them popping up everywhere (e.g. Pierre Larquey and Noël Roquevert).
Anything Louis Jouvet was involved in.
The panic of the misplaced lottery ticket in Antoine et Antoinette.
Christo Grozev (of Bellingcat) and Alexei Navlany unexpectedly managing to get the latter’s attempted assassins talking on the phone in Navalny (Daniel Roher, 2022).
The “fanny pack” fight scene in Everything Everywhere All At Once.
Michelle Yeoh throughout Everything Everywhere All At Once.
Daniel Craig as Benoit Blanc (again).
2023: I’m going to continue my exploration of French cinema, fill in a few gaps from Sight and Sound‘s once-a-decade poll (namely Japanese cinema, of which I have seen very little), and aim for forty films – with something watched every month! I may post about what I’ve watched at intervals during the year, but I’m not making that a concrete aim.
Reading:
The books I read in 2022
As usual, I only include books that I’ve finished and read properly (skim reads don’t count). I read fewer than in 2021 but still had a consistent pattern of reading throughout the year, which is what I’m trying to maintain. Although I finally got to le Carré’s The Honourable Schoolboy (which is excellent), I read less fiction than normal this year and unusually the balance is tilted towards non-fiction (around 57% according to my quick count just now, although it feels more than that). There were several non-fiction titles I should have stopped reading (but there were also others – not shown above – that I decided weren’t worth my time after a few chapters). I also read fewer translated works, so I’d like to put more effort into that this year. I’ve got quite a few novels lying around that I was looking forward to reading but then haven’t felt in quite the right head space for.
My top five:
The Anatomy of a Moment – Javier Cercas. An extrapolation (combining factual research and imagination, in an iterative process) from a singular moment in Spain’s history. During the attempted coup d’etat in February 1981, only three members of Congress did not dive for cover when the golpistas opened fire: outgoing Prime Minister, Adolfo Suárez; his deputy, General Gutiérrez Mellado; and Santiago Carrillo, leader of the newly-legalised Communist party. Cercas considers what brought them to their behaviour in that moment and what that moment subsequently signified for them (and the country) in the aftermath. Una obra maestra.
The Honourable Schoolboy – John le Carré. The heft of this book had put me off reading it for quite some time despite it being comparable in size to Tinker, Tailor.. but it is an enthralling read of derring-do, subterfuge, and betrayal. I understand why it hasn’t been adapted as a film, but in this day and age surely someone could make a TV series out of it. I’ll be picking up the next of the Smiley books, Smiley’s People, at some point in 2023.
The High House – Jessie Greengrass. Speculative fiction set in the very near future (no dates are mentioned but the world is recognisably ours a few steps further down the line) as climate change causes cataclysmic events in parts of the world where perceived safety (that doesn’t happen here, to people like us) has allowed complacency to take root. It continued to reverberate around my head for most of the year.
Shifty’s Boys – Chris Offutt. A sequel to The Killing Hills (which was in my top 10 last year). Offutt manages to convey a landscape (the rural setting is as much a player in what goes on as any of the characters) and an array of characters who seem lived-in and true.
Lanny – Max Porter. A singular voice, an often disturbing read, and a piece of writing that has stayed with me. I’m not sure I’d classify it as ‘enjoyable’ (I had to steel myself to continue) but it’s certainly original. I think of it frequently when certain types of news story appear or when I notice that a landscape has changed when I’ve not been paying attention.
Honourable mentions (A-Z): All the Men I Never Married – Kim Moore, Beginners: The joy and transformative power of lifelong learning – Tom Vanderbilt, Death and the Penguin – Andrey Kurkov, The City – Stav Oleg [cinematic poetry], The Curious Gardener – Anna Pavord, The Stasi Poetry Circle – Phillip Oltermann, The Tiger in the Smoke – Margery Allingham.
2023: Keep reading, put more effort into seeking out translated voices, read more fiction, and stop buying so many books before reading the ones I’ve already got!
As ever, wishing you health and happiness in 2023!
This is going to be one of those posts with little content related to films.
Recently I have often found the question of whether an event occurred in 2020 or 2021 strangely difficult to answer; the pandemic has caused a limbo-like sense of time not really passing, in conjunction with the repetitive series of events (in the UK anyway – the Govt being extremely resistant to learning from past mistakes) creating a strong feeling of déjà vu. This in turn has contributed to my sense of 2021 being a real trudge to get through. Although I both recognised and identified with aspects of Adam Grant’s much-circulated article about languishing (“Languishing is a sense of stagnation and emptiness. It feels as if you’re muddling through your days, looking at your life through a foggy windshield.”), I also liked Austin Kleon’s counter-response:
I’m not languishing, I’m dormant.
Like a plant. Or a volcano.
I am waiting to be activated.
That chimes with my favourite book from last year – Katherine May’s Wintering – and what it says about needing to accept that time is cyclical and passes in seasons; we can’t thrive or flourish all of the time. So I’m declaring this a dormant year for myself and am trying to look at it in terms of what I did achieve rather than what I didn’t.
Verónica Forqué (with Rossy De Palma) as the eponymous heroine of Kika (Pedro Almodóvar, 1993)
Kika was my introduction to Almodóvar’s films. Forqué’s performance was memorably described in Sight & Sound by Paul Julian Smith as ‘a curious combination of Judy Holliday and Barbara Windsor’, and that encapsulates the sunniness-with-a-hint-of-mischief that she brought to most films.
Nobody Knows Anybody 