can I review you down the river?

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Pass Over opened last night. We are going on March 4th. I can't see many reviews this morning though, despite yesterday's royal visit, that said there are five stars from the Evening Standard.

third time's a charm

Volume 3 (6 new episodes) of Jon Favreau and Roy Choi's culinary journeys landed here on Netflix today.

That is three volumes (whatever volumes may be) since last June (Icons passim).

You can't really criticise Favreau's work ethic as he also seems to have produced and released The Mandalorian and The Lion King in the same period.

Mr Jones

This movie has got a limited theatrical release currently, and we can stream it on Amazon.

Here is the Wikipedia entry on the protagonist Gareth Jones. Read it at once, I can scarcely take it in. We have a new Welsh Born Icon in  Gareth Richard Vaughan Jones, straight outta Barry in 1905.

You know, just simple lines intertwining

Back in 2009, Chris Howell told me that the brother of a guy teaching in the same Welsh school as him had made an Indonesian action movie called Merantau (see Icons passim). This seemed quite remarkably unlikely but Gareth Evans went on to break out internationally with The Raid (number 71 in Empire's list of The 100 Greatest Movies Of The 21st Century.

Now he's back with a Sky TV series Gangs of London. Paapa Essiedu (late of this parish) is in it as well. Small world.

C. Anne

I am back home in London having lit out of Cardiff early this morning to collect the Bomber at the end of his flight from Tampa, Florida to Gatwick.

There's a handwritten list (a few years old now) blue-tacked to a tiled wall in the Bronwydd Avenue kitchen that I want to record and remember. It comprises all the family birthdays and our forthcoming ages, plus mum and dad's wedding anniversary.

The third entry is C. Anne. That's Caroline Anne, my lost sister, our parents' third baby who died in childbirth. I imagine that C. Anne is used to distinguish her from Caroline my baby sister, The list says C. Anne would have been fifty.

I don't think my mother mentioned her loss to me more than a couple of times. I wasn't really aware of it at all until I grew up. I don't think my father ever mentioned it ever. But the wound didn't heal.

Kyrie Eleri Siôn

I tune into Radio Wales as soon as I can pick it up when I am driving back from London to Cardiff.

This tends to mean that Eleri Siôn, who does the two til five slot on weekday afternoons, is usually in charge of helping me to relax as I am crawling along the M4 on a Friday.

Yesterday a farmer's wife and grandmother phoned in towards the end of the show with the answer to "The 2:45pm Teaser".

"What do you do when you're not lambing?" asked Eleri by way of breaking the ice and making her feel at home. My heart instantly melted.

This is a question I have never heard on KISS Grime.  Even if I ever did it would come out more along the lines of "what man do when mandem not lambing?" I think.

Stephen Fry Hates Dancing

This post will go online automatically at 8 this morning. I will have long left as I have to get to Warwickshire early, then go to West Mercia, thence Somerset and (even thencer) Cardiff.

Why should I be the only one suffering?

courteous and receptive to courtesy

The council managed to collect my rubbish this week you will be delighted to hear.

We are on a two week cycle: rubbish, paper and card one week; plastics, glass, cans and cartons the next.

It was third time lucky for me with rubbish, so there were three black bags and more than a month's worth of refuse in my wheelie bin.

Both a fortnight ago and four weeks ago, when I realised my refuse hadn't been taken, I was caught by the woman next door peering into her wheelie bin. I wanted to check if it was just me who had been missed or if the whole street had been overlooked and it is difficult to see if there is a black bag in a black plastic bin after dusk without sticking your head deep inside.

Being caught in this position can be, as you might imagine, difficult to explain to a neighbour especially at the second time of asking.

Perhaps I should have asked her in for a coffee so I could put her at ease. “I would not have had that happen to you. Discourtesy is unspeakably ugly to me.” in my best Hannibal Lecter would probably have done the trick.

The 5:05 watershed

There's a newish channel on freeview called Sky Movies Classic. It's worth a look if you find yourself at a loose end.

When I got in from work on Monday it was in the middle of a small Marlon Brando tribute comprising The Wild One at five past five followed by On The Waterfront at quarter to seven.

The Wild One was made in 1953. It was banned by the British Board of Film Classification upon its release and remained so (except for screenings in film societies where local councils overturned the BBFC’s decision) until 1967 when it was released with an X certificate.

Now they show it in a time slot where only school children can see it as the 9-5 wage slaves can't get home in time.

One to the blade and one to the handle

I cracked and watched Spike Lee's Pass Over (Icons passim) even though we are going to see Paapa in it after he opens this week in the Kiln theatre.

Lee put the original Steppenwolf production onto celluloid and author Antoinette Nwandu talks about it above. Three minutes thirty in she is brilliant.

This play asks us, collectively, to consider the value of black lives
Specifically, the value of the lives of young black men
And I would say the value of the lives of young black men
Who are not special
Who are not entertainers
They're not athletes
They're not secret maths geniuses
They might never get better
They might never be different
But to entertain the possibility that we need to live in a society
that does not ask these young  men to prove their worth.

Our rugby club lost two boys a couple of years ago and we still haven't got over it; one to the blade and one to the handle. A victim and a perpetrator. Ben knew 'em both.

Tampa fugit

Ben is flying back from Tampa to Gatwick this weekend so I will leave Cardiff early on Sunday morning (after visiting Mum and Dad on Saturday) to pick him up after flight DI7166 deposits him in the Gatwick South Terminal at 9:55am.

PG Tips

Act 5 of Cyrano de Bergerac is essentially an epilogue set 15 years after the main events; Roxanne realises it was Cyrano who wrote the letters her lost love Christian sent, and as the light fades in the convent (literally and metaphorically) understands too late that she is losing her soulmate.

Here's the elevator pitch; we jettison the first four acts and transubstantiate the literary French verse into Cardiff's vernacular as a one act PG memory play called Nazareth House.

In our version, Roxanne, now a spinster school teacher, is visiting Cyrano at the residential home run by the religious sisters. The Gascon Cadets are a rugby club and the historical inspiration for Cyrano himself is the Carwyn James of the biography Into the Wind.

Carwyn James was a genius. He was also a tormented soul. The two sides of his life are explored in this biography, which contains new information and never-before-seen photographs.

Carwyn wore the red rugby shirt of his country, and coached not only the Lions but also his club, Llanelli, to victory against the All Blacks. He stood in a general election, contributed to radio and TV broadcasting over four decades and inspired several generations of students with his insights into literature.

This volume discusses all of those incredible achievements, but also raises a host of questions about issues such as his relationship with the Welsh Rugby Union and the BBC, as well as analysing the missed opportunity for him to coach his national team. It also fully addresses Carwyn’s battle with his sexuality, the lonely years in Italy and the period leading up to his tragic death in Amsterdam in 1983, at the age of just 53.

In Act V, scene vi of the original Cyrano says that his role in life has been to inspire others: Molière had genius, Christian beauty, but he was fated always to be hidden beneath the balcony while someone else ascended.

In the memory play Cyrano isn't sure if it was Roxanne or Christian he truly loved, so his wooing of Roxanne from the shadows as if he was Christian is even more ambiguous.

Here is the dialogue that needs to be reworked as the heart of the piece.

CYRANO:
Oui, ma vie
Ce fut d'être celui qui souffle--et qu'on oublie !
(A Roxane):
Vous souvient-il du soir où Christian vous parla
Sous le balcon ? Eh bien ! toute ma vie est là:
Pendant que je restais en bas, dans l'ombre noire,
D'autres montaient cueillir le baiser de la gloire !
C'est justice, et j'approuve au seuil de mon tombeau:
Molière a du génie et Christian était beau !
(A ce moment, la cloche de la chapelle ayant tinté, on voit passer au
fond, dans l'allée, les religieuses se rendant à l'office):
Qu'elles aillent prier puisque leur cloche sonne !

ROXANE (se relevant pour appeler):
Ma soeur ! ma soeur !

CYRANO (la retenant):
Non ! non ! n'allez chercher personne:
Quand vous reviendriez, je ne serais plus là.
(Les religieuses sont entrées dans la chapelle, on entend l'orgue):
Il me manquait un peu d'harmonie. . .en voilà.

ROXANE:
Je vous aime, vivez !

CYRANO:
Non ! car c'est dans le conte
Que lorsqu'on dit: Je t'aime ! au prince plein de honte,
Il sent sa laideur fondre à ces mots de soleil. . .
Mais tu t'apercevrais que je reste pareil.

ROXANE:
J'ai fait votre malheur ! moi ! moi !

CYRANO:
Vous ?. . .au contraire !
J'ignorais la douceur féminine. Ma mère
Ne m'a pas trouvé beau. Je n'ai pas eu de soeur.
Plus tard, j'ai redouté l'amante à l'oeil moqueur.
Je vous dois d'avoir eu, tout au moins, une amie.
Grâce à vous une robe a passé dans ma vie.

A Bottle And Friend

Today's Six Nations double header comprises Ireland versus Wales at quarter past two followed by Scotland versus England at quarter to five.

It is a given that Gareth the Rugby Gnome and I will be supporting Wales as unwaveringly as ever, but let's also take time out to remember that today's second game marks thirty years since Scotland’s 13-7 victory over England on March 17, 1990; a game that has gone down as one of the most famous, atmospheric and, frankly, rancorous matches ever. There's even a book about it for goodness sake The Grudge: Two Nations, One Match, No Holds Barred by Tom English.

Two teams each with three victories faced off against each other in the final round of matches, with both capable of completing a Grand Slam with a victory, and the first time that the Triple Crown had also been at stake at the same time.

I can still remember when England ran out of the tunnel first and lined up for the anthems, but, rather than following suit, Scotland - led by captain David Sole - left them to stew before walking slowly onto the field; the tension ratcheting with every moment. We were all watching it in the Admiral Nelson in Whitton with Scottish Harry Smythe. When Scotland won he has as happy a man as I have ever seen. This week last year we all went to his funeral.

If they sell any good scotch in in Standard I will raise a glass of it to H later on this afternoon.

Here's a bottle and an honest friend!

What wad ye wish for mair, man?

Wha kens, before his life may end,

What his share may be o' care, man?

Then catch the moments as they fly,

And use them as ye ought, man:

Believe me, happiness is shy,

And comes not aye when sought, man.

Huntin', Shootin', Fishin'

...... and Cyclin'

Would you hurry back?