Monthly Archives: February 2012

In which we consider the increasing homogenisation of Manchester’s bar scene.

At the start of the year it was announced that Zecol, the company that operates the Trof chain, had taken over The Green Room and Albert Hall Brannigans, two sites that had fallen into disuse some months earlier. In an interview with Manchester Confidential, Zecol managing director Joel Wilkinson spoke of the company’s plans: “We need to decide on the look and feel we’re going to give the place, although it won’t be radically different to the rest of the Trof bars.”

Little over a month later, a similar story emerged. The success of Black Dog Ballroom has prompted the owners to take over the vacant Pure Space site on New Wakefield Street. Ross Mackenzie, one of the two men behind the Northern Quarter venue, has already suggested that the new venue will seek to replicate the original, with his long-term goal involving establishing the brand across North England.

These developments raise an interesting question: can this kind of homogeneity really be a good thing for the city?

The success of the likes of Trof and Black Dog strikes me as a double-edged sword. The fact that these businesses are expanding is good news for the city economically (and any development that helps create new jobs should be celebrated); however, as far as Manchester’s social scene is concerned it does nothing to improve choice: we simply get an almost identikit version of an established brand popping up in a new location. More of the same, in other words. The Northern Quarter Black Dog serves its purpose and its clientele just fine; is it really necessary to open another one just a 20 minute walk away?

Similarly, does the city centre really need FOUR Trof venues if each one is going to be utilising the same approach and aesthetic? Is it not in danger of becoming a Wetherspoon’s for the alternative set?

I’m aware than an argument could be made that these companies are taking over failed sites, revitalising venues that weren’t able to remain open in the current climate. Which is a perfectly fair point. However, Trof and Black Dog grew to thrive because they brought something new to the table, offering a different kind of night out and unique selling points that pack the punters in. The pair stand as proof that new ideas can succeed. If there’s room in the city’s social scene for popular outlets to expand, surely there’s room for original concepts to take off? In particular, the success of the likes of Black Dog and Port Street Beer House against a difficult economic backdrop suggests that there is.

The Green Room and Space are fantastic venues, and the news that both will soon be back in commission is most welcome indeed. Here’s hoping that Trof and Black Dog show a willingness to try something new and take a few risks, rather than simply resting on their laurels.

2012 in film: part one

By Samantha Bradey

February 12, 2012

Cinema

Shame

An unflinching look at sex addiction starring Michael Fassbender as Brandon and Carey Mulligan as his damaged, destructive sibling. Set in a nightmarish New York geared toward making sex as cheap and easily accessible as possible, this is a difficult film filled with grim, explicit scenes. What drives Brandon relentlessly toward fulfilling his desires is never fully explained, though a troubled childhood is hinted at with the gorgeously simple line “we’re not bad people, we just come from a bad place”. Instead, Brandon’s sexual compulsion is portrayed in dark tones, exposing the desperation of an addiction that is on par with substance abuse.

Highlights: The running scene and Mulligan’s rendition of “New York, New York”.

An Education

Carey Mulligan stars as 16 year old school girl Jenny, who is on course to win a place reading English at Oxford when the charismatic yet disreputable David offers her a lift in his Bristol sports car and a way to break the monotony of suburban lower-middle class life. The title’s double entendre is played out over the proceeding hour and a half, as Jenny becomes submerged in David’s murky world of lies and deceit. The film is based on the memoirs of journalist Lynn Barber, which are given a cinematic makeover by Nick Hornby. It is at times a little predictable and maybe a touch sentimental, with easily drawn characters, but it works well as a coming of age film and serves to fill a couple of satisfactory hours on a Sunday afternoon.

Highlights: To be honest I won’t remember this film forever, but it did reacquaint me with the work of Lynn Barber, who is a very good interviewer and feature writer and not at all forgettable. So in my opinion the best part of An Education is reading Barber’s interview with Marianne Faithfull afterwards.

The Artist

The Artist tells the story of silent movie actor George Valentin, whose fame is on the wane, and Peppy Miller, who is a rising star of the newfangled ‘talkies’. This is a heartwarming story told with artistry, a lightness of touch and universal appeal. It’s not particularly surprising that it has been nominated for eleven Oscars, and it is the simplicity of the story and the sincere performances of Jean Dujardin, Bérénice Bejo and John Goodman that make this film genuinely memorable. However, it seems a little excessive to nominate The Artist for eleven awards when a film as well-crafted and adrenalin-filled as Drive has barely scraped one. While The Artist has much to recommend it – it is beautifully shot, well-performed, artistic, accessible – a friend made a good point when asking “would this film have rated as highly were there spoken dialogue?” and I’m not sure it would have. Still, certainly worth a watch if you haven’t seen it.

Highlights: The smartest dog you are ever likely to see on screen.

War Horse

Ah, War Horse. I was desperate to see this film from the moment I read this illustrated review on The Hairpin. For those of you who have been living under a rock War Horse is the tale of a plucky and courageous horse called Joey and the people (mainly men) who fall in love with him, set during WW1. Directed by Stephen Spielberg for Disney, this film has the schmaltz factor turned up to eleven and I’m not ashamed to say I cried on several occasions. If you love shots of horses running through fields, being brave and watching grown men struggling to conceal their amorous equestrian inclinations then you’ve struck gold with War Horse.

Highlights: There are so many fantastic moments it’s hard to know which to rate highest without giving the ending away. The goose is pretty cool though.

Drive

Telling the story of an unnamed Driver (Ryan Gosling) who quietly falls in love with his neighbour, Irene (Carey Mulligan), who is unfortunately married to an unsuccessful criminal. When the Driver attempts to help him out things go disastrously wrong, and he finds himself in over his head with some dangerous characters.

Driver appeals on several levels. It is a cool sensory feast, beautifully styled with an excellent soundtrack and some breathtaking stunt driving. Gosling’s central figure is a classic strong silent type; a version of John Wayne reimagined by Quentin Tarantino. I defy men (and women for that matter) not to form a little crush on Gosling in this role. Whilst not perfect – it’d easy to pick a few holes in Drive’s plot – this a really enjoyable, heartbreaking, exhilarating romp of a film and deserves to have received more recognition from the Oscars than a single nomination for its sound editing.

Highlights: There was nearly another score for Drive and it’s really worth a listen. You can find here. And if you fancy getting your hands on a shiny scorpion jacket of your very own you can do so here.

Blue Valentine

If you’re feeling particularly disenchanted with love this Valentine’s Day, then Blue Valentine – with its bleak, harrowing depiction of a relationship in its death throes – might well be the film to reassure you that you’re better off alone. Or you can watch it with your partner and argue over who fucked it more, Ryan Gosling’s Dean or Michelle Williams’s Cindy.

The story of their relationship is told via flashbacks to their early days, showing us how they initially bonded and fell in love alongside their final moments following a visit to a tacky love-hotel. Whilst the film is difficult to watch in places, it’s a beautifully told story with some touching moments and leaves you with plenty of food for thought afterwards.

Highlight: Dean serenading Cindy with the song “You Only Hurt the Ones You Love” outside a discount wedding shop. The same song is played again over the credits.

2012 in literature: January

By Kristian Jackson

February 8, 2012

Literature, Manchester

1 Comment

As is customary in January, I’ve found it hard to settle into a book for any significant amount of time, flitting from one piece of literature to another on whims, leaving a good few in progress even though I was enjoying them. Give it another month and maybe I’ll have found my focus.

I started the year finishing off Moneyball, Michael Lewis’s fantastic book about Billy Beane, the general manager who revolutionised baseball by focusing on approaches to talent spotting and team selection than no-one else put any stock in. His methods helped transform the Oakland Athletics from an unsuccessful outfit to regular playoff contenders; interestingly enough, the success of his methods – not to mention of Moneyball – led to other individuals adopting them wholesale, and in recent years Beane’s team has struggled.

The story that unfolds is far from a conventional sports narrative, however, and the way Lewis tells it is somewhat out of the ordinary too. Rather than following a linear path, Lewis jumps back and forth, sometimes without warning, and allows himself any number of diversions and meandering interludes, all the while crediting the reader with enough intelligence to keep up. Some of the most illuminating passages involve Beane’s new guard clashing against baseball’s old guard, be it coaching staff, scouts, or sportswriters, all of whom are strongly resistant to the new ideas of the upstarts. Prior knowledge of baseball is not necessary to enjoy Lewis’s account.

I also picked up Everything’s Fine, the promising debut from Manchester’s own Socrates Adams. Literature that is actually laugh-out-loud funny is a rare thing indeed, yet Adams delivers in spades on the humour front. Which is a good job, really, because the focus of the story – a man named Ian’s workplace-based woes and general failure to function as proper adults are expected to - does not allow for much light to filter in, his dream of a holiday to the French alps notwithstanding.

Adams seems to have found his particular milieu, marrying mundane slice of life material with surrealism and the odd shock tactic, as well as social commentary that may or may not be earnest. It’s an effective blend, and certainly a unique one – it seems safe to say I’ll read nothing quite like Everything’s Fine again this year. The simple conceit does become ever-so-slightly stretched at points, tasked with carrying an entire novel (well, novella might be more accurate), but that doesn’t detract too much. Given its subject matter, it’s likely that a good few of you will readily be able to relate to the trials and tribulations of Ian. If nothing else, it’s worth reading because it’s likely to be the only time you experience a narrative in which a length of pipe is the most sympathetic character.

I rounded off the month with Stephen King’s Misery, the tale of Paul Sheldon, a writer famous for a series of bestsellers starring Misery Chastain. When Paul suffers a car crash, he’s rescued from the wreckage by Annie Wilkes, who just so happens to be Misery’s biggest fan. Problem is, Paul killed her in his last novel, and Annie’s grasp on sanity is tenuous at best…

Misery is a gripping, ambitious tale, one that King uses to explore what it means to be an artist, how possessive and demanding fans can become, and whether or not releasing a work of art commercially means it belongs to the public as much as the person who created it. In one glorious passage, Sheldon ponders to himself:

“It was crazy. It was funny. It was also real. Millions might scoff, but only because they failed to realize how pervasive the influence of art – even of such a degenerate sort as popular fiction – could become. Housewives arranged their schedules around the afternoon soaps. If they went back into the workplace, they made buying a VCR a top priority so they could watch those same soap operas at night. When Arthur Conan Doyle killed Sherlock Holmes at Reichenbach Falls, all of Victorian England rose as one and demanded him back. The tone of their protests had been Annie’s exactly – not bereavement but outrage. Doyle was berated by his own mother when he wrote and told her of his intention to do away with Holmes. Her indignant reply had come by return mail: ‘Kill that nice Mr Holmes? Foolishness! Don’t you dare!‘”

The passage continues, and is a wonderful, profound ode to the all-consuming effect art can have on us, how passionate a person can become over a fictional character, and why we’re willing to invest so much of ourselves into worlds that do not exist. As it turns out, it’s only easy to dismiss King as populist fare if you’ve never read one of his better novels. I’ll certainly be seeking out more.

Currently reading: The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins, Jacobs Beach by Kevin Mitchell, Retromania: Pop Culture’s Addiction to its Own Past by Simon Reynolds, and Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace.

Next on the agenda: Finishing all of the above and reading The Melancholy of Resistance by Laszlo Krasznahorkai for February’s book club.

How goes the novel?: After a strong first week, things ground to a halt. It’s currently ‘on the shelf’ as I ‘concentrate on other projects.’

—Onward, Manchester.

Archive