The exes who don't stay ex

Well, this weekend was quite the weekend for it. But then every weekend is like that when you have a reasonably small scene to go out on.

It is, perhaps, because I have exhausted the options. But then I have long said I need to move away, move on, move somewhere where nobody knows my name. I’m the anti-Cheers.

There are certain occasions when the fortunes of fate swirl in a mischievous manner to collate all of history in one moment. If you’ve been out on a gay scene for any length of time this will have happened to you: you will at one moment glance around and be surrounded by people with whom there has been some sort of relationship. This weekend wasn’t quite that bad, but it did happen to me a month or so ago, and had such an effect upon me that I immediately left to go home and think about what I had done. Or who I had done.

Now, I have to say that – for me – this isn’t a particularly devastating occurrence. There are few of my ex’s that I really regret going out with; and those that I do I have managed - either by avoidance, deterrence or removal – to avoid. Either I have moved scene, they have, or there is an unspoken understanding between us that we shall not meet.

But for the others, I am usually on good enough terms to say hello and co-exist in the same room for a period of time without going crazy. It’s just that sometime the coincidence is just too much.

It doesn’t help on the occasions where they don’t want to be an ex any more. There have been a few occasions recently where I have woken up with someone I shouldn’t. “You can’t go home again”. It’s the title to a Thomas Wolfe novel about how you can’t relive the past; you can’t go home and expect the experience to be the same. It has the same kind of devastation of Brideshead Revisted (which, until I read it, I had always assumed was the sequel to Brideshead; but it isn’t).

But yes, if it didn’t work out the first time, there is probably a reason for it. And there are probably more reasons that it won’t work out the second time. Well, unless immaturity was the first reason. But the reason for the first break-up will reside, together with all the mud and muck thrown up in the disintegration, and the resentment or jealousy which festers in the meantime. After all, you can’t expect them to have been angelic and pure and not have some rebound sex with someone else, can you?

But this weekend was an oddity.

We’ll call him the impossible elastic band. Because that’s kind of how he is. We know that we are impossible as a couple, and yet we keep returning to each other, unable to break that draw.

So, we’ve known each other for almost 10 years now and tried to date each other three or four times during that time. It hasn’t worked out on any occasion. We seem unable to make a firm commitment.

Back when I was 22 and he was 30 there were maturity issues – I was still very much in the party mood, and whilst he enjoys going out on occasions, he wanted an off-scene relationship. This was fine during the week, however I had just come out of a relationship where someone exerted emotional influence over me that meant that I didn’t see my friends for weeks at a time. I wasn’t going to have that happen again quite so soon.

The next time the issue was a distance problem. I had just recently decided to go without a car. My car had been broken into and damaged to such an extent that the insurers said it was not economic to repair, and so I thought I’d give it a go to cope without it. Which was all well and good until it comes to trying to get from the next city either back to my place late at night; or to work first thing in the morning. It just wasn’t compatible.

And we weren’t sexually compatible either. It may be that in due course that becomes a non-issue; or that there is some sort of compromise; but, for now, it’s there.

And so is there a reason that we snogged on Saturday night?

The eyes have it.

There is something about them. And this is a real weakness for me. That and a hairy chest – which is there as well. I can fall for people based purely on one of those two factors sometimes.

And it was insipid on this occasion too. I had some time to kill until my friends turned up; we saw each other; and what started out as purely polite conversation turned to tongue-wagging-without-talking.

But that was all. This time.

So, when will it stop? Which of absolve, avoid, deter will I use? Well, until I get that job in London, Manchester, Leeds, Newcastle, Anywhere-else-but-here, removing myself of the situation isn’t going to happen. Removing myself from romantic opportunity – by attaching myself to some other poor sod – will happen when pigs fly.

Accidentally (as in unorganised) avoiding – as I have found out – lasts only so long before coincidence throws us together at the same time.

Deterrence? Well, he is moving to Portugal to open a shop selling second-hand artwork. But he’s been saying that for 10 years. And he wants me to go out and see him. Bearing in mind we have difficulty meeting up when we live in adjacent cities, that may not be a realistic prospect.

So, who knows. Perhaps the only exit may be attrition – after a decade of never-quite-nearly, one or other of us may get bored; go off the other.

And there is a possibility that this is already happening. This weekend, for example, it isn’t as though we pounced on each other. It was only with his imminent departure at the end of the night that he asked if we could have a snog. I didn’t realise people still used the word snog but apparently he does. Until then it has been a polite-to-friendly catch-up chat. His hair was longer – I’m not a fan of it when it is longer. It tends to go curly and look greasy. I think he thinks it makes him look or feel younger; but again – it doesn’t. For the first time in a long while he actually looked his age – 39. I don’t wish to sound bitchy – I know I already do – but perhaps that attrition has already started to buff off the shines of youth. Perhaps not – perhaps it is just me in my ever insatiable need to remain in contact with my (or someone else’s) twenties; to always have newer, better, cuter. Or because you can never go back – you’ve been there, they are spoiled goods, you know the faults already, there’s less unknown – less excitement. Maybe for this reason I will stay single for ever, holding out for impossible perfection until I’m so old that it could never find me.

So, spell broken?

Until next time.

Me an my (non)god

Ok, so when I was debating equal marriage a while back, I said that I would deal with my views on religion. This could be a long post, and I have no intentions of keeping everyone happy. Abraham Lincoln, when he said that you can’t please all of the people all of the time, was very correct; and religion is one of those that stirs it up.

So, where am I with religion?

Even this isn’t a simple statement. I don’t know whether I am agnostic or atheist or other. I suppose on the most basic of definitions I am an atheist.

Do I believe in a god? Do I believe there is a single, overarching, omnipotent being that controls or judges us? No. And so to that extent I am atheist.

Do I believe the bible to be the word of god, to have been written at the time about the life of his son? Do I believe the world was made in seven days? No. And there is so much actual, hard, factual evidence to counter so many of the tenets upon which the bible relies

But I do believe in religion, in certain circumstances.

Not a religion. But religion in general. And I am reasonably educated in this. I went to Church of England schools; regularly attended church until I was confirmed and had a good knowledge of the bible. I also had a good religious education teacher, who ensured that we were informed about other faiths beyond Christianity. So I understand how religions work. And that is where I say I believe in these religions in certain circumstances.

Corinthians 13:13 – “And now abideth faith, hope charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity”.

These days charity is more often read as love. So faith, hope and love – the true holy trinity.

John 3:16 – “For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son”. See, that word there again. Love.

Regardless of which religion you follow, which holy book you read, these basic, fundamental principles are the repeated, defining principles upon which all proper, true religions rely. Faith, hope and love.

Such overwhelming positivity. And that’s what religion is about – the positive effect that it should have on the life of its followers. Some people I know are so unbelievably happy living their life following those principles. It’s infectious. And that is a good thing. In their darkest of times religion gives them hope. It already gives them faith which is far more than I have. I find so much empirical evidence to disprove the notion of a god that they trump me in the faith department a million times over. Perhaps my faith is in my friends, family, community and wider humanity. Perhaps that’s far too humanistic.

People who try to twist religion and holy scripture to their own, negative point of view are not just bastardising the work itself, they are fundamentally undermining or abusing their own faith, hope and charity. This reared its head in the equal marriage debate; with people throwing Leviticus around left, right and centre. Essentially the justification for equal marriage is based upon faith, hope and love. Afterall, John doesn’t say “God so loved the World [except for the gays] that he gave his only begotten Son”.

So, we’ll look at the bible, because the theory from the bible can be extrapolated to most religions.

Is the bible the story of one man? Well, sort of. You have the ‘prequel’ if you like – the Old Testament – which talks you through his heritage; then the main section – the story of his life; and finally the prologue – what his followers did next.

But (in my opinion) it is just that – a story. A very well-meaning story, with many positive teachings and morals to take away from it. Just as Jesus tells stories and parables to example the point he is trying to make, so the bible does the same many times over. It created the story-within-a-story format. Afterall, as I have already said, so much of it has been fundamentally and factually disproved.

Now, we know that it wasn’t written “at the time”. I has been created and added to all the way from the Council of Jamnia in 90AD to the Synod of Hippo in 393AD, to the Council of Trent in 1545-63 to the King James’ version which a couple of years ago celebrated 600 years since completion in 1611. Even today there is no single version, and so relying on a nuanced interpretation of a single word is problematic at best. Indeed, look at the transition from ‘charity’ to ‘love’.

It is the fundamental principles that should be relied up – the morals of the parables, the lessons from the sermons, the three basic tenets of faith, hope and love. If you follow these, rather than an absolutely literal interpretation then you should have a happy, positive interaction with, faith in, and reliance upon your religion.

And the context needs to be considered as well. When you consider that the writing of the books took place initially almost 2000 years ago in a very different society, both technically and geographically, to where we are, then it is no surprise that some of the phrases jar a bit as out of date. The most common translation used today (certainly in the UK) – the King James’ Version – was, as I said, translated 600 years ago. Again, in very different times.

So whilst the anti-equal campaigners were ignoring the overarching aims of faith, hope and charity; and concentrating on just one of the 95 or so books, gospels, letters or Epistles they ignore that it was clearly written by someone who was trying to address specific problems presented at the time (context) and the language used. The word ‘man’ was frequently deployed simply to refer to mankind as a whole, so don’t think it specifically refers to other males.

So, if you are drawing positivity, then your faith is good and true for you and good with me. The moment you take phrases out of context, abusing them to support a bigoted point of view, or in any other way negativing (it’s a word) a phrase, ideology, individual or community; then you are fundamentally denying your own religion, your own faith, hope and charity.

I tried to explain my position – that of not believing in a god, nor having faith myself, but understanding and respecting those who do – to a friend of mine. For someone who normally displays substantial intelligence, he was remarkably stupid and ignorant to the point of rude. I was wrong – religion was wrong; it was a terrible thing; fundamentally flawed and the root of all evil. There was no explanation as to why, it just was.

One of the circumstances where this is particularly abused is by some radical, fundamentalist Muslims. They use the term Jihad as a reason to take arms. On an absolute literal reading they may well be correct; but on a proper interpretation the Jihad is a war of conversion – it is a conversation, a discussion, not a physical attack.

I hate the phrase fundamentalist Muslim or extremist Muslims. It’s being bandied round far too much at the moment with the terriblyshocking murder of Drummer Lee Rigby in Woolwich. The suspects have been referred to as radical Muslims or Muslim extremists in some of the media. Proper, true Muslim groups have been working damned hard to distance themselves from this; to condemn in the strongest terms what happened; to rebuild relationships within the community. The fact of the matter is that whatever the suspects may think, they were not doing this in the name of Islam; they were doing it for their own, shockingly misguided reason. It bears nothing to do with Islam and so the use of ‘Muslim’ in any tag attached to those suspects must be dropped. Extremists is fine, it needs no ‘enhancement’ and Muslims do not deserve to be so ignorantly demonised.

Well, I appear to have been remarkably concise on that, which surprised even me.

The Lesser Gatsby

So, you may remember a couple of months ago I considered why it was that Baz Lurhmann would wish to make a remake of The Great Gatsby? And I said that I would reserve my judgement? Well, I have now managed to get to see the film... just under three weeks after release. 

That's not bad for me.

So, what did I think?

Well... it was a disappointment. It was a FODJEM disappointment. But then I shouldn't have been surprised.

A FODGEM disappointment? 

Forced
Ostentatious
Device-led
Juxtapositionally-jarring
Extreme; and
Melodramatic.

Forced?
Well, this is a theme you will see running through the next few headings; but it was so forced that you felt no empathy, no sympathy with the characters. It didn't help that a lot of the other things were so distracting from the characters; but even the 'old sport' catchphrase which is supposed to be key. It's in the book, but it jars in the film - it just seems so forced, so out of character that it doesn't work in the end. Also, the fact that Nick keeps appearing in every scene is uncomfortable. I know the book is written from Nick's perspective; however for him to be there at every single companion moment is not necessary. He interrupts so many private moments that the only surprise is that Baz doesn't place him at the foot of the bed in the sex scene.

Ostentatious?
Well, I know - it's Baz Lurhmann. He's not a cheap man. But whereas the original film celebrates the washed-out, understated decadence and opulence of the jazz era in the same way as the book does; the new film does brash, bold, colourful. Almost distastefully. I know it's trying to distinguish itself, make sure that it isn't just a remake of the original (justifying itself against my post, identifying a uniqueness) however it doesn't fit. Half of the film is 1920s, half of it isn't. In fact; that isn't true... as will become clear later on.

Devices?
The film uses every cinematic device that Baz uses in Moulin Rouge! It doesn't distinguish itself in the slightest. There is so much duplication it is distracting. There is the zoom-out-to-cityscape; the model buildings; the wide sweeps; the pull-in-zoom-out. The brash colours referred to reference particular characters, particular situations in a way that Jean-Pierre Jeunet manages to achieve very well throughout his films; particularly Amelie; but which Lurhmann confuses, over-multiplies and ends up losing the reasoning behind it. It just becomes brash and forced colour; classically forced 3-D filming; and generally feeling fake, model or CGI.

As well as a cinematograpical, devices are other, story-lead devices which are introduced outwith the original story. There is a good back-story in the book, but Lurhmann advances on a full character assassination of Gatsby; whilst still expecting us to sympathize with him at the end. It's impossible. Yes, the desperation to get Daisy eventually pulls through, but the underside is overplayed to the extent that you actually don't want Daisy to care. Then there are minor themes which are overplayed to the distraction of the main story...

Juxtapositionally-jarring?
Well, I've already talked about how the colours were brash to the point of distraction and confusion. The costumery and set were in absolute disarray. Some of it seemed to be set in the 1920s-30s as should be. Some of it was set in a faux-medieval castle. Maybe that's what people spent their money on in 1920s Long Island. But it looked CGI-etched in. Then the music was a horrible slam-up between the 1920s; 1950s; 1970s; 1990s and early 2000s. Simply taking some New York artists does not make the track appropriate. It all just jarred. I know Baz is known for his juxtapositions - modern with Shakespeare in Romeo + Juliet; modern with 19th Century in Moulin Rouge! But this had so many styles, themes, sets that there was absolutely no consistency throughout the film, it was distracting to the extent of disorientating. And this is all at the same time as trying to get us to emote? 

The original was set properly in the jazz era. It may surprise to know that jazz has rules, but that they are fluid, soft rules. Assuming that you know, acknowledge and appropriate use those rules you can create good jazz. Unfortunately what the film tries to do is the opposite - look at the rules, force the breaking of those rules, and then try to make it sound good. One is free-working within rules; the other is strict-working outside of rules. Jazz works. 

Extremes?
Well, a lot of this has already been mentioned or is still to come; but again diversity is key. All of the peripheral characters are extremes. This is not set in a circus as Moulin Rouge! is, this is set in the very restrained, pre-civil rights era. Indeed, the script repeatedly makes reference to the them-and-us attitude between the dominant whites over the coloureds. And yet, in the middle of all of that Gatsby has a transgender black man performing in the middle of his parties? It just doesn't sit. But it is there throughout. 

Melodrama?
It's the only language Baz seems to speak. Buchanan is clearly the The Duke from Moulin Rouge! It's the 'extreme' category extrapolated further. Daisy isn't just wet, she is SO wet she can't decide anything. Buchanan isn't just nasty, he's almost demonic; Gatsby isn't just caddish, he's so unbelievably caddish so as to override his gallantry at the end (as apparently his friends realise); Carraway isn't just bland, he's so bland so as to be there when you don't even realise he is or need him to be there. Which is a shame as I think Tobey Maguire actually gives one of the better, more realistically believable performances throughout the film. Even the butler seems sinister. 

So it didn't work with me? Not at all.

When looking at a reason to make a remake, essentially it comes down to two reasons:
Duplication; and
Divergence

This being reasons where you can improve upon the original, either by doing the same thing better, or achieving the same end by doing it different.

Unfortunately, the divergences seem to have been at the expense of what everyone loves the original story and films for. The soft-focus; hazy summer is beautifully, opulently, subtly represented in the book and the original film; the new film (again, seeking justification for it's being) head-on challenges this with noisy (Baz doesn't do quiet), brash, garish, bright, overwhelmingness that leaves a feeling of milk curdling in the stomach.

The duplicatations?

Well, aside from the occasional glimpses with the original story (ok, now I'm being very harsh) the duplications are all those with Moulin Rouge!

Cinematographical techniques are entirely lifted. There are basically no new shots.
The green light (which, admittedly, is Fitzgerald's invention) could be the green fairy; but is most likely all of Freedom, Beauty Truth and Love.
The writing/typewriter. For goodness sake. This is all from Moulin Rouge! He starts both films out with the character basically revealing the ending all the way at the start; using the typewriter throughout to tell the story. It's a forced device that seemed novel at first, and now just seems a way to integrate the novel's monologue without being too inventive.
The glasses of Eckleburg could very easily be translated against the windmill of the Moulin Rouge, the way the camera plays upon them.
The organists in each of the movies appears to be the same. It isn't, but they are styled and directed so similarly. 
Even the parties are practically identical - the same mash-ups, the same colours, the same angles, shots, pans and zooms; the noise, the colour; the busyness; the everything.
And so many little snippets of dialogue are copied. "She doesn't love you, she loves me" - though this echoes back to the melodramatic aspects. There's only so many ways you can say the same things.

So I was disappointed. But I expected to be disappointed. Was I any more disappointed? Yes. I was disappointed at how much a carbon-copy of Moulin Rouge! it turned out to be. You could predict every camera movement; and once you started with that game it was as distracting as the noise and the harsh colours, poor reworks and flimsy recharacterisation so as to leave you entirely bereft of the film. 

But then I might be biased: myself and my friend were sat between someone who had such flatulence every ten minutes of the movie on the one side; and a couple who were determined to have oral sex on the other.