(EMI)

In most of Europe the ’80s never ended

Whether it’s a side-effect of Moneygeddon or the new voting system introduced this year – half jury vote as well as half televote – Eurovision 2010 was a little more sedate than usual. Sedate by Eurovision standards, anyway. There were still balls of flame shooting out of the stage, enough wind machine to start a cyclone and a double-ended burning glass piano (thanks, Romania). But there were also a lot of ballads sung in English that could have come straight out of the Disney Princess Songbook. The pageantry, the exoticness and above all the tackiness is what we watch Eurovision for, and this year there was a little less of that. Still, these three DVDs collecting both semis as well as the grand final show that many participating countries are still dedicated to entering the most mind-blowing Eurotrash imaginable. Turkey’s rock band accompanied by a Daft Punk version of the Stig from Top Gear who stripped with the aid of an angle grinder; Slovenia’s accordion solo versus guitar solo folk-rock battle; Lithuania’s version of OK Go who sang, “Get up and dance to our Eastern European funk!” and then ripped off their trousers to reveal golden hot pants; the German girl who sang like a Mockney Lily Allen – such glorious madness. The one thing missing is the commentary. Without the option to enable the ramblings of Julia Zemiro and Sam Pang (or the sainted Terry Wogan) you have to provide snark and cynicism yourself, which gets pretty tiring around hour five. Still, get some friends who enjoy bad taste together, hit the fast-forward button when the UK and Ireland are on, and you’ll get some fun out of this.

***½

JODY MACGREGOR

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(Roadshow)

You might think I’m a little strange when you hear me say that I felt a little twinge of nostalgia when I saw the cork being pulled from the horse’s bum in the opening credits of a DVD I watched recently, and rightly so, I guess. But I’m proud to admit that I really enjoyed the British sketch show Big Train the first time around, and I was just as happy as I sat down to watch Season Two on the weekend. Created by Brit-com veterans, Graham Linehan (who also wrote and directed much of Black Books and The IT Crowd) and Christopher Morris (whose very black comedy, Four Lions, about Al Qaeda terrorists in the UK starts this week), the sketch comedy show was one in a long line of very funny television series that occasionally pop up to delight and offend.

Watching the series, you’ll see familiar faces that have become synonymous with modern Brit-com, from the very versatile Simon Pegg (Shaun Of The Dead and Hot Fuzz) and Catherine Tate (actually, I can take or leave her) to Mark Heap (who perfected a vaguely psychopathic turn in another classic with Pegg - Spaced), and the sketches that the crew roll out are consistently very funny, off the wall, and often satisfyingly surreal.

Extras on the DVD include Cast & Crew Commentaries and Biographies, Deleted Scenes, and a snippet of material from the German version of Big Train.

***

TIM MILFULL

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(Roadshow)

I don’t think I’m necessarily straining the friendship to imagine you may not have heard of Russell Brand. I know him from his roles in the Judd Apatow films, Forgetting Sarah Marshall and Get Him To The Greek, and others might be familiar with him for the controversy he boiled up with his radio show prank calls, especially the one in which he referred to screwing Manuel’s granddaughter. But Brand has been whoring around his particular style of comedy for quite a few years now in the UK, and after you’ve seen these DVDs, you’ll understand that the Brand brand carries a certain level of notoriety.

In fact, if you know nothing about the man and you don’t mind a little grubby humour, I recommend you watch the extras before you watch Brand’s live performances so you can come to appreciate the man behind the Brand. The lanky lunatic concedes that his life has two public facets: embarrassing himself; and then telling stories about embarrassing himself. And in the extras, including radio shows, old MTV footage, and interviews, it’s obvious that Brand’s junkie days were something of an acquired taste. That’s not to say his sober comedy isn’t so, for Brand pretty much has the market cornered in terms of smut and filth, but there’s more to him than tits and arse humour.

Once you dig a little deeper than the intricate sex and wanking tips and wild rumour-dispelling, there’s a sophisticated intellect holding the flaps of its trenchcoat wide for all to see. If you’re not averse to slumming it in the gutters outside the Louvre or the Smithsonian, you should consider opening up Russell’s Boxy Woxy.

****

TIM MILFULL

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(Kscope/Shock)

Sparse offering from the ‘Tree not without fruits

Anesthetize, the second DVD from British prog svengalis Porcupine Tree, is an admittedly bare package. There are no documentaries, no bonus footage of additional shows, not even a commentary track. It is a music DVD in the truest sense of the word. There’s nothing on offer apart from some live music recorded over two back-to-back shows in Tilburg, The Netherlands, on a DVD. Fans of the band will know that this alone is all the band really need to offer. The set-list features the band’s breakthrough Fear Of A Blank Planet album in its entirety before a selection from the band’s back catalogue. The post- Fear Of A Blank Planet set-list leaves something to be desired, devoid of Porcupine Tree classics like Trains, Lazurus and Hatesong. Visually, the band’s stage show takes its aesthetic cues from the Fear Of A Blank Planet album. The stage is swathed in melancholic blue and aqua hues, as bleak projections of urban decay and blank-faced youths occupy the screen above Gavin Harrison’s gargantuan drum kit. Apart from swirling lights and one incredibly cool guitar, Anesthetize doesn’t offer much to look at; behind his limp bob and not-very-rock & roll eyeglasses, frontman Steven Wilson can scarcely be seen. Likewise his bandmates. While a more extensive DVD offering would be nice – and thoroughly justified given the extensive back catalogue untouched on Anesthetize – the new DVD nonetheless showcases why Porcupine Tree are such a spectacular live band. How Steven Wilson and co. manage to capture the dark, nihilistic vibe of the Fear Of A Blank Planet record on stage without losing the record’s sensitivity or textural richness is impressive beyond words. How they can turn the thematic slant of a record into an unparalleled audiovisual experience is why Anesthetize is an essential addition to the collections of prog fans.

****

TOM HERSEY

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(Shocking Entertainment)

One of rock’s greatest tales turned into a bedtime story.

The role of a bedtime story, of course, is not to teach children an important lesson about chivalry or sharing. No, you tell them something relaxing but ultimately uninteresting in soft, dulcet tones, so they can nod off and you can have a momentary reprieve from their daily onslaught. Somehow, the creative forces behind Stones In Exile have managed to take all the necessary ingredients for a tremendous story – made all the more special because it’s non-fiction – and turned it into a cure for insomnia. Just under forty years ago, The Rolling Stones claimed the mantle of the greatest rock & roll band in the world (given The Beatles had recently imploded and therefore no longer qualified), and took up residence in France for several reasons related to the price of fame. Regrouping in Keith Richards’ exquisite and ancient villa, the band slowly made the sprawling Exile On Main Street, an amphetamine-fuelled double album that re-energised the band, if somewhat confounding listeners at the time. If Stones In Exile focussed on this in greater detail, it may have truly been a worthy documentary. Instead, it’s a who’s who of interviewees (Martin Scorsese, Benicio Del Toro, Jack White to name a few) reflecting on how difficult the recording process would have been, with band members and others present during the period all nodding in agreement. Snippets of unreleased material aside, the film is neither a historian’s delight or an entrance point for the inquisitive. The real gold is available on the recently remastered album, complete with a whole disc of unreleased songs, but The Rolling Stones were never ones to pass up a merchandising opportunity, where they?

**½

MITCH ALEXANDER

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(Madman)

Strange relations

Korean director Bong Joon-Ho’s follow-up to the excellent monster flick The Host (2006) looks like a murder mystery on the surface, but quickly subverts genre stereotypes as much as its predecessor. Kim Hye-ja is the worrying Mother of the title, a widow with an acupuncture business; her apron-strung son Do-Joon (Bin Won) is a gormless 20-something with mild intellectual disabilities, one prone to accidents and memory loss. When a local schoolgirl turns up dead, positioned on top of a building as though on display, Do-Joon is arrested. Witnessed following the victim, he’s interrogated and ends up confusedly signing a confession. Convinced that her simple, harmless son is innocent, Hye-Ja sets out to prove it, pursuing the truth to whatever extreme she deems necessary. While it might sound as though the only unusual twist here is a mother taking the detective’s role, Bong Joon-Ho ensures that there’s nothing typical about this film – and little that you might recognise from Western spins on similar plots. Blackly humourous and with immaculate acting from the fiery Kim Hye-ja, Mother is a dark gem, filled with gloriously oddball character moments, unexpected revelations and deft hints of a much larger story under the surface. From it’s first mystifying moments, as Hye-Ja sways and dances in a field wearing a look of glazed unconcern, to it’s satisfyingly ambiguous ending – also featuring dancing, albeit of a more frenzied kind – Mother offers originality and surprises throughout. It’s beautifully filmed, entertainingly bizarre, and less a mystery than a warped fable about parental concern. It’s also a prime candidate for an American remake, seeing as – like Let The Right One In for example – it’s better than half the genre stuff coming out of the States.

****

TOPHER HEALY

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