Critic Cal

When God saw what they did and how they turned from their evil ways, he relented and did not bring on them the destruction he had threatened. But to Jonah this seemed very wrong, and he became angry. He prayed to the Lord, “Isn’t this what I said, Lord, when I was still at home? That is what I tried to forestall by fleeing to Tarshish. I knew that you are a gracious and compassionate God, slow to anger and abounding in love, a God who relents from sending calamity. Now, Lord, take away my life, for it is better for me to die than to live.” But the Lord replied, “Is it right for you to be angry?” ( Jonah 3:10-4:4, ESVUK).             RAZED                         I met a traveller from an antique land,             Who said – “Too right I’m angry, seething hot;             Far better had He smote me on the spot     ...

I'm normally asleep when the year begins, and up and about before the rest of the world has quite recovered from revelling... NEW YEAR'S DAY   At 6am on New Year's Day While next door's lengthy Hogmanay Was resolutely still in play I wearily arose. My brain was buzzing, anyway, Too much to much doze.  I dressed, and found an old cagoule (Remembering the forecast squall) And stuffed it — an ungainly ball — In my fleece pocket. Then crept down to the downstairs hall And made my exit.  The streets were dark; it felt like night The more so for the frequent sight Of homeward-headed revellers, tight And waxing verbal. One stopped, and asked me for a light For something ‘herbal’…  I drew the odd uncivil jest From trendy cliques in party best Who were distinctly unimpressed By my appearance; I scowled, and scorned “such shallowness " With silent vehemence.  Towards the centre of the town Were several nightclubs of renown Where peop...

A 1st of January oh-no-the-gym-is-closed early morning walk has become something of a tradition for me since writing this. It doesn't always rain. NEW YEAR'S DAY   At 6 a.m. on New Year's Day While next door's lengthy Hogmanay Was resolutely still in play I wearily arose. My brain was buzzing, anyway, Too much to much doze.  I dressed, and found an old cagoule (Remembering the forecast squall) And stuffed it — an ungainly ball — In my fleece pocket. Then crept down to the downstairs hall And made my exit.  The streets were dark; it felt like night The more so for the frequent sight Of homeward-headed revellers, tight And waxing verbal. One stopped, and asked me for a light For something ‘herbal’…  I drew the odd uncivil jest From trendy cliques in party best Who were distinctly unimpressed By my appearance; I scowled, and scorned “such shallowness " With silent vehemence.  Towards the centre of the town Were several nightcl...

I would've been happier if Vue had sorted out their sound levels. The insipid, underwhelming aural impression aggravated me so much that, 45 minutes in, I actually ventured out to the corridor to consult a man with a walkie-talkie who looked like he might be in a position to do something about something. He told me the flat sound was an intentional part of the way it was filmed -- all of it coming from the front so that you would feel more like you were in a theatre. I have been unable to verify this claim (though I haven't tried all that hard) but I do hope he was mistaken because the actual effect was of being in my living room watching telly, and I'm pretty sure that's not what Tom Hooper was going for. Anyway, the man with the walkie-talkie assured me he'd get them to 'turn it up a bit', and, eager for my excursion from my seat not to have been a wasted effort, I managed to convince myself that it was a bit better after that. Still, I wanted to be imme...