« September 2005 |
Main
| November 2005 »
October 10, 2005
On how to waste a year of you're life . . .
Taking a year out was probably not the finest choice I ever made. I mean, I had just finished journo college. I was fresh to the world around me. Free at long last from official education of any order. I stood at the head of several paths all leading down different routes. All bumpy, uneasy routes save one. The smooth appealing path of a year out. Oh, the possibilities, I thought. I’ll use the time to write more fiction. I’ve been meaning to do that. I should do that. I’ll do some travelling. Nothing unpleasant you understand. No trekking across Thailand wearing the same clothes every day. No, Japan perhaps. Finland even. And I’ll do everything else I couldn’t do up until now due to the hectic schedule.
Then the year out started. An awakening of sorts. Here I was with a vast expansive wasteland of opportunity before me and what do I do? I set up camp on the border – for the entire year. Now don’t misunderstand me. I did a little writing and a little travelling certainly, but nothing to justify an entire year. As I said, simply not my finest choice. To do something like take a year out you need a lot of focus. Thus, I decided that I would return to college and study Film Production in Dublin. These days I am lucky to be part of a generation for whom studying a variety of courses one after the other is not an improbable goal. So during these last few weeks, in the run up to my grand return to college, I’ve been pyching myself up to get back into the swing of things. I’ve been buying new pens and notebooks in the glorious anticipation of it all.
On my first day back I’m not taking any chances. I’m due in at 9am and my college, Coláiste Dhulaigh, is out in Coolock so I have to get up at 5.30am in order to catch a train that’ll leave me with enough time to catch my bus. It’s madness surely but on my first day I want to be precisely on time. It’s dark out obviously. It’s still the middle of the night really. I barely make the train and as the scurry for seats wages on it soon becomes apparent that I’m the only one in the carriage who doesn’t have a seat it. Never mind though, it’ll take more than to dampen my spirits. When we arrive in Heuston Station more and more of the commuter daily routine is coming back to me. The Rat Race. An entire (over packed) trainload of people spilling out onto the platform. All with but one thing on their minds – a seat on the bus. So there we are. Hundreds of us running like a herd of startled gazelles. I’m one of the first aboard the number 90 but it suddenly dawns on me that most people we’re running for a seat on the LUAS as the near empty upper deck of the bus illustrates. I needn’t have ran but never mind. The only thing in my sights is getting back to college. At O’Connell Bridge I hop out. It’s a Dublin I’ve rarely seen. It’s so early; the morning rush hour hasn’t even started yet. Eason’s are even closed. Doesn’t concern me though. I’m not going to risk losing any time browsing stores. It’s straight up to Talbot St. for the bus out to Coolock. Soon we’re on our way.
It’s sizeable journey. About forty minutes so I delve back into the Hercule Poirot adventure I’ve been reading. Several unsolved murders later and we’re coming up near my stop. I make a quick check of all my notepads and timetables and things and then hop off outside the college. I stroll up the front walkway with a spring in my step. In a mere few minutes or so I’ll be back into the humdrum of keeping busy and working on projects. No more lazy mornings for me. It’s going to be great. I scale several flights of stairs to what’s known as the 8th floor despite they’re being only four floors in the building. I walk down the corridor. Find the room I’m supposed to be in. With a deep breath I push open the door and in doing so enter my New Year. Inside sitting at the desk is one of the lecturers I presume. "Yes?" he says. "Hi, my name’s Liam. I’m here for film production." He looks puzzled. "Didn’t they ring you? You’re first class doesn’t start till next week."
Trains, Buses & Automobiles by Liam Geraghty appears every week in the Kildare Nationalist.
Posted by LiamG at 09:01 PM
Save the Robots!
Robots. Big clunky awkward excuses for man kind. Sleek, smooth, humanoid looking AI machines. Yes, whatever way you look at it, robots are cool. Always have been. Going on this basic principle (Robots = Cool) Stu, Hank and myself made our way up to Dublin to see "Save The Robots" – a new exhibition in The Ark/Filmbase in Temple Bar. You may remember in last week’s adventure that we went up to see this exhibition only to discover it was closed on Monday’s. Well we certainly weren’t taking any chances this week. We went on a Tuesday.
I would love to say that we happily spent the day talking to intelligent robots, having them make us dinner and generally impressing us with their metal coolness. I’m sad to report that this is not what happened. Not by a long shot. We started out cheerful enough on our way to the exhibition. "We should do the robot dance when we get there," suggests Stu. "Like they haven’t seen that before," says Hank and then puts on an old man’s accent and adds "Hey buddy I’ve been here twenty five years and I ain’t never see nobody do the robot dance at this robot exhibition." Behind reception are two ladies with phone headsets presumably to look like they’re from the future. Student discount gets us in for €6.50 each.
The receptionist recommends we wait for the tour guide to come but being quite adverse to tour guides we begin the exhibition on our own. The first room contained a few remote control fighting toy robots that were so slow to react, they we’re presumably created to react fights in slow motion. Also in that room were a bunch of small toy robots that danced to several different songs when you pressed a different button. We exit that ridiculous room only to have walk four flights of stairs to get to the next part of the exhibition which consists of various cog wheels in glass boxes in the hope of giving some sort of early history of robots. What in blazes is going on?
The next floor offers some slight entertainment when you can mess around with a little video camera on a miniature Godzilla style set with lot’s of toy cars and toy robots but most of the video camera’s are on the blink. We stumble into a room that looks quite interesting with lots of computer’s and Lego and things but we’re told that it’s only for workshops and there aren’t any on at the moment. But, we’re told we can come back later to "build" our own working robot. At this point some examples of these home-made robots are shown to us. Most of them are paper cups with ice pop sticks stuck onto them. Good grief. This ends the exhibition in The Ark. We now have to cross over to Filmbase to continue this riveting and in general, robot-free robot exhibition.
At Filmbase we’re greeted by an enthusiastic guide who obviously hasn’t had any visitors for some time. "Hey, ya wanna see some cool robots?" he says. Yes, that is exactly what I would like to see but somehow I have little faith. He shows us an ancient android chess player who once played against Napoleon Bonaparte. This robot chess-whiz astounded people by playing chess. It was since discovered though that a little man was secretly operating it like a puppet from inside. Great, a story about a robot who turns out not to be robot. Next we’re shown some "artistic" robots which really don’t bare mentioning. Especially not the machine that scribbles with a pen to sounds it hears through a microphone. And especially not the decision-making robot who decides to continually walk up against a wall while we’re there. Last our journey is movie robots. I should be impressed to be standing in a room with R2-D2, Sonny from "I, Robot" and the robot from "Metropolis" but I’m simply not. "Save the Robots"? You needn’t bother. Somebody all ready has cause they’re certainly not knocking around at this exhibition.
Trains, Buses & Automobiles by Liam Geraghty appears every week in the Kildare Nationalist.
Posted by LiamG at 08:59 PM
The Grand Return to Dublin
Last week marked my grand return to Dublin. The people in charge of the city obviously forgot to mark their calendars as when I stepped off the train at Hueston, no parade was in progress, no confetti was falling from the sky nor was a bronze likeness of myself standing outside the station. Undaunted I took a stroll around that most magnificent of cities. During the summer I had made several visits to the capital and had become overwhelmed by the amount of pretencious looking people running around with their mobile phones and their haircuts. But now, in the splendour of autumn, all it seemed had returned to nothing but charm and delight. For old times sake I did a little retail therapy. There’s nothing like a bit of materialism to give you instant, if short lived, happiness.
I began my impulse buying down in the depths of Forbidden Planet. I was searching through the comic books when I came across a book so rare I could scarcely believe it was sitting on the shelf in front of me. "TINTIN – In The New World: A Novel." Well let me tell you my mouth was all a gape, whatever that means. The reason why this book is so rare is because Tintin, renowned Belgian journalist and personal muse of mine, up until this point had only ever appeared in comic format. This was his first and only life in literature but not only that. No, Tintin grows up in it. Tintin the eternally boyish reporter actually grows up, gets married and does all manner of things one would not expect a man of Tintin’s calibre to do. In short, it was my first purchase of the day. Several more books later I decided I’d take a break from the endlessness of buying stuff and head over to the UGC on Parnell St. to catch a movie.
Within seconds my choice of film had been decided upon. Not on the merit of it’s director. Not by the strength of it’s cast. Not even by it’s reviews. It was decided solely by a number and a letter that followed it’s long and unusual title The Adventures Of Shark Boy and Lava Girl in 3D. That’s Three Dee, folks, 3D as in three more dimensions with eh . . . I mean . . . it’s just really, really cool. And you get to wear glasses! Yes, I know I wear glasses anyway but these are Shark Boy glasses. Shark Boy 3D glasses. That’s where the excitement stops. I really should have seen it coming. I’m a complete sucker for anything with 3D written on the end of it. Past experiences have shown me that 3D obviously means "come watch our rubbish film with funny red and green lens glasses that give you a headache. It’ll be fun!" And every single time you can be certain to hear me replying "hey, that does sound like fun!" The film was for the most part looked very, very dodgy in what may have well been a mere 2.5D. It’s only redeeming feature was that at boring plot scenes where nothing could really be 3D they’d have a member of the cast point at something in the hopes that the finger would pop out of the screen at you. Bloody Hell.
After that I went to a coffee shop for a hot chocolate. One thing you should know is that I hate coffee shops. Mainly because I don’t like coffee and that you’re forced to say, "I’ll have a hot chocolate grandé" as opposed to a simple large hot chocolate. You’re faced with the split second decision as to whether grandé is pronounced in a slight Hispanic accent. So I get my hot chocolate in it’s capitalist paper mug that I can carry around with me. The price of a hot chocolate in one of those mugs is pretentiousness. So I make my way back to Heuston and onto the Arrow after a fine day in Dublin. Maybe next time they’ll have a fanfare waiting.
Trains, Buses & Automobiles by Liam Geraghty appears every week in the Kildare Nationalist.
Posted by LiamG at 08:55 PM
Trains, Buses & Automobiles: THE MOVIE
Perhaps it had something to do with Mars not being aligned with Jupiter. Per chance, it was the entire flock of Magpies in the garden that morning. Maybe if I had have bothered to read my star sign it might have read "Don’t bother." But I didn’t. Instead I strolled down to Newbridge train station with all the cheer and attitude of the leading man in the opening of an upbeat film. The credits fade up and down above my head and sometimes to the right of me. Whatever fits into the shot. The music is bouncy. Lot’s of trumpet and piano. This pretty much continues throughout the opening of the film aboard the train to Dublin and on the bus into the city. In fact it continues right up to the introduction to of our two supporting actors - Stu and $chmackey, in the sheet music section of Walton’s Music Store on Georges St.
It’s then we begin to walk through the city to get to the reason why we’ve come up - an exhibition of robots in Temple Bar. But on the way, the screenwriter has added two scenes in which to allow the audience to see different sides to our protagonist [yours truly] and his two comrades. The first is a stop off outside The George - a gay pub. Stu wishes to get a gig in there for his band $chmackey and the Salads but won’t go in on his own. $chmackey refuses to go in. Much arguing ensues until our hero offers to go with Stu in order to further the story. An interior scene follows in The George which is completely empty. [It’s only around 1pm] We proceed to the bar where the barmaid is waiting. STU: "I have a band and we’d like to arrange a gig here sometime." BARMAID [in foreign accent]: "We don’t normally host gigs here and when we do the bands are usually gay." Within a sentence Stu’s plans have been dashed.
The pursuit of a gig may continue as a thread throughout our story. We continue our walk until a stop is made outside a sex shop. [Note: It is possible our film boasts a PG-12’s rating for some brief sexual references] On the insistence of one our supporting actors, our troupe descends down the stairs into a modern merchant of movies starring predominantly people who opt not to wear clothes. For comic effect the trio are advised by the director to pretend they look entirely at home in a sex shop as if they were browsing their local grocers. I look at the prices of the DVD’s to discover they all cost upwards of €60. In a new character trait recently added to my profile, I walk up to the counter and actually complain about the prices much to the unease of our supporting duo. Soon after an exit is made. The film appears to be picking up pace when we finally arrive at our desired destination - the exhibition of robots, only something’s amiss.
The entrance is locked. On closer inspection to the robot exhibition flyer the robots are only exhibited Tues-Sunday. Meaning our heroes have gone to Dublin for absolutely nothing. We make our way back to the bus stop at O’Connell bridge while some uninspiring incidental music plays lightly. Just before all three board the bus, our champion makes a reckless decision to not board and instead do some impulse shopping just because that’s the kinda guy he is. Several jump cuts show me standing in various shops in Henry St. examining various products. Only one purchase is made. A blazer. [This is a set-up for a later joke when our hero will return home, open up his wardrobe to reveal a great deal many blazers] But for now I look at my watch. CLOSE UP: 5.03pm I realise that if I hurry I might make the 5.18pm train which Stu and $chmackey are heading for, on the bus. A series of quick zooms and erratic cuts will show me racing through Henry St., past the GPO, over O’Connell bridge and hopping into a taxi. 5.09pm. The taxi is caught in the heavy Dublin traffic. 5.16pm The taxi is only now passing the famous St. James gate. After paying a hefty amount to the taxi driver [a clever social commentary on the economic state of the country at the time] I race some more to shouts by the station master. "That train’s about to leave! You’ll never make it!"
Our hero runs like he’s never run before. Slow motion is a possibility here. The crashing of cymbals and the banging off drums sound off the Platform Number 1 overture [available on soundtrack] as our sweat dripping hero triumphantly leaps onto the train. In an anti-climax the over crowded train doesn’t leave for another twenty minutes. I once again meet up with Stu and $chmack. Further down the line as we stop in Hazelhatch Station, a crackly driver announcement is made [possibly a voice-over cameo]. "The engine is broken. Everyone must get off the train, cross the bridge to the other platform and board the next train." The couple hundred of disgruntled commuters [extras] do just this as do our three stars. The next train is even more over crowded. Idle conversation fills the gap between the next action point. This happens just before Sallins/Naas station when the second train breaks down. An announcement is made. "We believe the engine may be at fault. We’re going to check it out and we’ll get back to you." An hour later and with some light comic relief the driver announces that "the coffee bar is now open."
The viewer is presented with some interesting commuter characters. A girl who is desperately late for an exam in Naas. An old man who keeps insisting to the whole carriage that "if only they’d put a drop of oil in it, we could get a move on." An hour later, another announcement is made. "The engine is definitely broken. We’re going to wait for another train to push us into Sallins." Another hour passes before this actually happens. Our happy-go-lucky feature film has gone askew. An aerial shot shows the train being pushed at a snail’s pace [for safety reasons] into Sallins station where everyone is instructed to board a third train which will take passengers to a whole host of stops none of which appear to be Newbridge. Unlike the commuter machine, our defiant trio are reluctant to board a third train in case it breaks down too. They meet an acquaintance who kindly offers them a lift home to Newbridge in his automobile which they accept. It is now precisely 8.30pm when our misfortunate hero arrives home. It has taken him a grand total of three hours and twelve minutes to make a fifty minute or less journey. Some sceptics in screen 4 of the cinema omni-plex are heckling at the unlikely plot twists and turns until they are silenced by a sentence which fades onto a black screen. "The events in this film are based on a true story - ask any of the hundred’s of actual commuters who experienced it last week Monday 5th September." The End
Trains, Buses & Automobiles by Liam Geraghty appears every week in the Kildare Nationalist.
Posted by LiamG at 08:49 PM
It's Not Easy Being Green
This week one of the world’s greatest entertainers turned fifty. Yes, Kermit the Frog has hit middle age like all great stars - not looking a day older than thirty. And to celebrate that fact (or to cash in on my sentimentality) those folks at Disney have released the very first season of The Muppet Show on DVD for the first time ever. Of course don’t bother running out to the shops to get a copy because currently it’s only available in the USA but being a loyal follower of the cult that is Muppet I had it flown into Ireland earlier this week. Although it first aired in 1976, The Muppet Show has lost nothing in it’s appeal over these last few decades. It is, as TIME magazine so famously put it, "the most popular television entertainment of all time."
With TV currently being swamped with shows like The Simpsons, Family Guy and South Park (who all have made references to The Muppet Show) it’s refreshing to be entertained by the long dead art of variety. Thirty minutes glorious of song, dance and comedy. You see I was brought up on The Muppets and more importantly their creator - Jim Henson. He was and to this day still is my biggest idol. A man who through his kindness and imagination gave the world a most wonderful gift. When I was small I used to be obsessed with the fact that we shared the same birth date. Well almost. I was Sept 23rd and he was Sept 24th. There were always Jim Henson videos in my house when I was growing up. I devoured them one after the other. Everything from The Muppet Show to Sesame Street, Muppet Babies to The Storyteller and from The Dark Crystal to Fraggle Rock. They’re was not a Jim Henson programme I had not watched. I was enthralled. In fact those were the days when asked "what do you want to be when you grow up?" I would still answer "a puppeteer."
At around five or six years old my parents brought me to Kilmane Hospital in Dublin where an exhibition entitled Jim Henson: The Myth, The Magic, The Muppets was being held. I can only remember seeing two displays but I remember them vividly. The first was the Goat card keeper from the movie Labyrinth. The second was Junior Gorg from Fraggle Rock whom I distinctively remember being terrified of because he always tried to eat the Fraggles. He stood in a huge glass box at the exhibition. The exhibition people wouldn’t let anyone take any photos of the puppets and I remember thinking this was because the flash from the camera would some how make the glass break. It was a defining day for me though coming face to face with creatures I had watched over the years at home on TV. In fact how often do such exhibitions come to Ireland? Exactly. Once in a lifetime. That was nearly fifteen years ago.
The closest of being in the same room with Muppets nowadays is by going to Jim Henson’s Bear in the Big Blue House stage show when it arrives at the Olympia Theatre occasionally. The first year that show arrived in Dublin I couldn’t believe it. Not only could you be in the same room as them but they’d be performing as well. The only slight drawback was that, as parents of any young kids will know, is that Bear in the Big Blue House is a kids show. But something small like embarassment wasn’t going to stop me. So two years ago, posing as a review journalist for a national paper, your truly, armed with notepad and pen strolled into the Olympia trying to look like a journo who had drawn the short straw but secretly was overjoyed. The show was electric - there was Pip and Pop, Treelo, Tutter and Bear himself! Oh what a fine singing voice he has! After the show and considering I was already there, I tried the unthinkable. I tried to get an interview with Bear. This threw the PR people into convulsions. Who was this journo who wanted to interview Bear? Doesn’t he know he’s just a guy in a suit? Maybe he wants to interview the guy in the suit? "No, no, no. I want to interview Bear," I cried putting more emphasis on the word Bear than had ever been done before. Duly I was told that Bear wouldn’t be doing any interviews today and would I please proceed to the exit.
To this day I lay dedicated to one man’s vision and creativity. Jim Henson continues to inspire me with his own personal philosophy. I think it would be fitting to finish up this week with a quote from Jim Henson himself on this philosophy. It’s taken from a book that was never published called Courage of Conviction. "At some point in my life I decided, rightly or wrongly, that there are many situations in this life that I can’t do much about - acts of terrorism, feelings of nationalistic prejudice, cold war, etc. - so what I should do is concentrate on the situations that my energy can affect. I believe that we can use television and film to be an influence for good; that we can help to shape the thoughts of children and adults in a positive way. When I was young, my ambition was to be one of those people who made a difference in this world. My hope still is to leave the world a little bit better for my having been here. It’s a wonderful life and I love it." - Jim Henson 1936-1990
Trains, Buses & Automobiles by Liam Geraghty appears every week in the Kildare Nationalist.
Posted by LiamG at 08:45 PM
