Gordon Anderson was a founding member of the Pigeons — a band which was later to become the Beta Band. However he was forced to leave and move back to Scotland due to illness and now performs under the moniker Lone Pigeon. Concubine Rice is a most peculiar album. It is full of half-finished ideas, songs that will start but then disappear within a minute. It has an otherworldly feel, partly because it often recalls the simpler sounds of the ’60s and ’70s, willfully borrowing from the likes of John Lennon, Neil Young, Syd Barrett and The Beach Boys while at the same time employing an array of instruments and samples to create somewhat cluttered soundscape. This effect is heightened by the bizarre world in which the songs take place — a world of elephants, pelicans and Old Mr Muncherman, a place so deranged that it seems it must be the product either of a disturbed mind or one which has had large amounts of hallucinogens pumped through it. Nowhere is this more apparent than in the opening moments of track 5, which begins with the following spoken word piece,

Deep, deep, in the land of the living poop,
The people popped out,
Pondering in the fields
What were they looking for?
They were looking for insectaflies,
They were looking for buzzardfleas,
No… they were looking for the hubbard cow.
The ancient hubbard cow of Bubbletoop
Now, the cows used to roam freely in the fields,
Until they began to fly.
Yes, flying bubbard clows in the flields of fliels.
Away in the holling wills and the mills of time
Away in the time of ten tim chim chim chim chim chim chim booo…..

Basically, the album is a mess. In this respect it does recall much of The Beta Band’s music with both seeming to feel compelled to include every musical idea they have ever had on each 50 minute album. But while I have always had the sense that The Beta Band are trying a bit too hard to achieve this, Lone Pigeon seems like he couldn’t write an album any other way. Concubine Rice has 13 tracks but 26 names listed in the liner notes meaning a track can contain three different musical ideas, none reaching their full potential almost as if Anderson didn’t have the attention span to complete one song before moving on to the next. In between the psychedelic craziness there are touching ballads, meandering instrumental tracks and pretty much every style of pop music you could imagine. Indeed, according to his label’s website in one month he managed to produce over 300 tracks. The track ‘Melonbeard’ alone contains enough ideas for a good 15 minute EP but clocks in at a third of that time.

For many this haphazard, scattergun approach will mean this album is fatally flawed. It is true that of the 26 or so ideas explored on the album there are at least a few disappointing tracks which didn’t deserve to make the cut. But you can always be safe in the knowledge that Lone Pigeon will promptly forget about them within 2 minutes. However, aside from these exceptions, I find it hard to see the lack of order and coherent thought as a negative. While there is a place for perfectly sculpted masterpieces of records in this world, it makes a pleasant change to find an unpolished gem — an album whose beauty is only apparent fleetingly. When I listen to Concubine Rice, I hear a world of happiness, of sadness, of cartoon characters and mythical creatures, a world where anything make sense as long as you don’t look at it too hard, somewhere which feels as if at any moment it could collapse under the weight of its own nonsensical logic and inconsistencies.

I enjoyed Troy more than The Return of the King. I know, I live in shame. How could I, a medium level Tolkien fan, who almost read Unfinished Tales — well, I swear I picked it up — choose a big hollywood extravaganza with Brad Pitt and my least favourite Australian comedian ever over some cool story about hobbits and love and hobbit love? Mostly, it’s just freshness. But there are other factors.

Slow motion was a big part of it. As I’ve previously complained, slo mo was a big part of almost every scene towards the end of the Lord of the Rings trilogy. I wasn’t a huge fan in Fellowship when Sam was drowning in oh-so-dramatic fashion, and I was plain sick of it when every single character wandered into Frodo’s bedroom as if through treacle in Return. In Troy, slow motion is used for one element only — Achilles’ god-like speed and accuracy. It’s used sparingly, and well.

Troy also — as far as I understand it — isn’t particularly hung up on the source material. Of course, I wouldn’t know, as for once I’m one of the unwashed hordes who don’t know the original story very well (though I get extra geek points for all my knowledge coming from Doctor Who and the Myth Makers). But the end of this film felt like… well, the end of a film, and not a bunch of otherwise excellent filmmakers over-sentimentalising every scene they could find simply because they loved them so.

But enough with the comparisons. There’s lots of good stuff on display in Troy. Eric Bana and Peter O’Toole do marvellous work as the two more sensible Trojans — Hector and Priam. I had no problem with Bana’s accent, which may have wavered a bit in the scene on the boat but seemed otherwise consistent to me. Priam’s pleading scene with Achilles was also a gem. Brad Pitt I had no problem with, though I’ve heard a lot of complaints. It was risky to give him a part that involved a spot of staring into space, since he seems to have some kind of himbo reputation going, I’m not sure why.

Orlando Bloom did an alright job as Paris, but sadly I will always think of him now as a complete weed and coward. Shame. Rose Byrne’s Briseis was adorable, Diane Kruger’s Helen was simply gorgeous in a pop star kind of way (which works for me — clearly this is what would’ve happened to Britney Spears had she been born a shade earlier). The big prize for me though, goes to Brian Cox’s Agamemnon. Almost every scene of his ended up hilarious, and yet he still felt threatening on some level.

The action was also very nicely handled. I like a well-choreographed, consistent and clearly presented fight, and that’s what we get in the final duel of the piece. I was on the edge of my seat — though it must again be stressed that I wasn’t entirely sure who was going to win, either, which helped.

Ultimately, the film is a good story, told well and simply (if not accurately — but I’m past caring about such things). Even if it has got its overly cliched touches, and a few moments of cheese. It’s about good but flawed people trying their hardest to work against the machinery of history. Oh, and a petulant demi-god. But they’re fun too.

For a review of Troy from someone who actually knows something about Homer, anyone in Melbourne should check out Peter Craven’s review in The Saturday Age.

Just so this entry isn’t too teeny weeny, I’ll point out that Quentin Tarantino is out to make the next James Bond film, based on the book Casino Royale. Here’s hoping.

Shannon and I put together a website for her brother over the last week or two… and I think it looks quite nice. Just a quick job, but worth taking a look at. Or possibly here, if it gets approved and fixed up sooner.

Spent the last few days at Wilson’s Promontory with my Dad, my brother and Dad’s best friend Neil. The views and wildlife were dependably fantastic – especially looking down from the top of Mount Oberon – but the true highlight of the trip was the insane stories that Neil and Dad recounted.

Made some of my Canada stories seem a bit lame. “And then, er… I fell over. Um. And we laughed coz I looked silly.” But then it’s easier to collect crazy stories in Europe than in Canada. Probably.

Well, everything’s back to normal… except we lost a few comments and such. I’m afraid you’ll have to re-enter those manually if you want them back.

Does Van Helsing really deserve a review? No. But, this will be the closest Grapefruit has come to reviewing a movie on its release date ever, and the opportunity was too tempting to pass up.

The reason I say Van Helsing deserves no review is simply that it gives you exactly what you’d expect. You know Stephen Sommers (of The Mummy and The Mummy Returns) will give you a somewhat bland action film with a few laughs. You know that Hugh Jackman will be charming and cool, while still a vulnerable hero. You know that Kate Beckinsale is the most beautiful woman on the planet, but that she seems to only appear in crummy movies.

In truth, I’d kind of hoped that all these elements would add up to more than the sum of their parts. The sad truth behind the spectacle of course is that they don’t. You might not be able to believe it, but Van Helsing in places actually seems to take itself seriously, which was a mighty shame. The action I found more involving than The Mummy Returns — but then that stuff was pretty crap. The best part of that film was, for me, the undead chase along the streets of London in a double decker bus, and there’s a similar feel to this film, especially with an early fight in and around Notre Dame.

However Sommers hasn’t escaped the chief problem of Returns — his over-reliance on computer generated action. Someone should send a memo out around Hollywood, just pointing out: CGI People Cannot Yet Pass for Humans In Films. Go back to the drawing board, guys. I know it costs a bit more money, and forces you to do a bit more thinking, but actual stunts performed by actual people really do help ground a movie. At least alternate between the two, please.

The film occasionally falls from unconvincing to stupid, also. You don’t have to fear falling off buildings in Van Helsing‘s world — it seems to harbour an over-abundance of dangling wires that will break your fall, or allow you to swing away to safety. In fact, they’re guaranteed to swing you to safety, and have a better than average chance of throwing you directly to the aid of a desperate friend. A pleasant universe indeed.

There are of course pleasant sides to the film. Hugh Jackman couldn’t be crap if he tried. His Gabriel Van Helsing (not Abraham people, who on earth were you thinking of?) is a tortured yet accepting soul, wandering the earth doing good in the hope of finding lost memories. There’s a lot of them about recently, but it’s especially amusing that Jackman has played two of their kind on film. Kate Beckinsale manages a wonderfully sultry Transylvanian accent (I can’t vouch of course for its accuracy), and plays her not quite as powerful second fiddle hero with the right balance of humanity and anger. And, leather pants. Oh yes. David Wenham does alright with that most awful of stereotyped roles — the dorky yet brilliant advisor.

Richard Roxburgh is so amazingly over the top as Dracula that he deserves his own paragraph. Some will hate him, but I kind of enjoyed it. He certainly livened up every scene he was in.

Finally, I should mention that the plot, as far as I noticed, was at least internally consistent and without holes. It was vaguely enjoyable for them to discover vampire lore as they went, and fun to see the cavalcade of screen monsters pass by. The film even has one or two surprises. Worth seeing if you’ve a hankering for action and self-important ridiculousness.

Ha Ha. Ha Ha Ha.

So anyhow, I walk into Vancouver Airport, and some official comes up to me. “Are you Tom Charman?” Why yes, yes I am. She presses a slightly mushed apple danish into my hands. “This is your danish that you didn’t get on your flight to Calgary in December. Is Andrew Cocker here? We have one for him too. After the turbulence that prevented us serving them, we were handing them out when you ‘deplaned’.”

“You must have missed us.”

Now I have to decide how to send it to Andy.

In other news, Melbourne is very nice. The Demons are doing well at least. And I’d forgotten that Doctor Who is on all the time, as well as Alias and Angel. And That 70’s Show. And ER, which is up to just about the point it was up to when I arrived in Canada. Pah.

All the people are well too, but obviously TV is more important.

One of the best slogans I’ve ever seen on a badge (Sara’s).

St Louis Bus Station is in a really dodgy part of town and I don’t recommend people walk from the train station there. There is however no way to avoid the 5 hour wait for the bus. Boooring.

Things in Rolla have been very exciting by contrast. Sara’s radio station, KMNR, have been spray painting shirts with stencils of famous rock stars in preparation for tie-dying them and giving them away at their uni’s promotional thingummy. I got me one, hopefully it’ll look vaguely cool.

Many drunken discussions of politics with Americans last night, which was tremendous fun. The fifth amendment, the draft, gay marriage… There’s so much crap going on. Perfect for talking about, not so perfect for actually living with. Poor buggers.

Halfway through my little jaunt through the US of A. Currently residing in Rolla, MO (which takes a great deal of effort to pronounce properly, given that vowel sounds are the big differences in accents), after a pain-in-the-arse train trip across from Baltimore.

These Americans are very nice actually. Haven’t noticed many differences except the sorority/fraternity business. I suppose deep down I’d always kind of imagined they made that crap up to give teen movies something to be about. But this is not so.

Where’d you put the mountains??? Give me back my mountainous views!!! Damn you!!!

I’m so darn close to leaving Banff. I’m getting a little sad, so much here I shall miss…

I’ve posted two weblogs that have been wandering around my head for ages, hope this satisfies those who crave details of my exploits! All, er, one of you.