Category: Reflections

  • John Carney: or how I learned to stop worrying and love art

    John Carney: or how I learned to stop worrying and love art

    The first time I consciously became aware of John Carney’s films was in 2016 with his indie hit Sing Street. And then I realised I’d already experienced another of his hits three years prior; Begin Again starring Mark Ruffalo and Keira Knightly. More recently I caught Flora and Son on Apple TV.

    There seems to be a recurring theme across all his films: even in the darkest of times, when all hope seems to be lost, from the pits of despair, art can well and truly save the world.

    Warning: if you haven’t seen any of these films, this post may contain spoilers.

    Just fucking do it

    The last line in Flora and Son literally is “you’re fuckin’ shite” in reference to Flora’s (played by Bono’s daughter, Eve Hewson) open mic performance. And on some level, she probably already knew that it was going to be shite.

    But that didn’t stop her. Teaming up with her talented producer son, she put together a banger that may just have been a little ahead of its time. But it wasn’t the song that had an impact. It was the timing.

    Flora, just like Conor Lawlor in Sing Street, has nothing to live for. She has a crappy relationship with her son, separated from her husband and has to wipe bums (literally) as a child minder for a living.

    Similarly, Conor has been demoted to public school, doesn’t own a pair of black shoes, his parents are getting divorced and, to top it all, he gets on the wrong side of the class bully.

    Both films have two things in common: 1) Jack Reynor and 2) the “victims” turn to art (music) as a way out of their miserable state of affairs.

    And that’s exactly what’s needed now more than ever.

    How art can save lives

    I want to add Greta from Begin Again, played by Keira Knightly, into the mix. Overshadowed by her sexy rockstar boyfriend (I see you Adam Levine), Greta decides to take matters into her own hands and, with the help of a burned-out record executive, Dan (pre-hulk Mark Ruffalo), she finds her voice, her confidence and grit to step out of her ex-boyfriend’s shadow. Only thing missing in Begin Again is Jack Reynor.

    The three instances I’ve highlighted are a reflection of what happens every single day. Somewhere, somehow, there’s a person sitting on the next great American novel, a killer musical composition or even a screenplay waiting to be green lit by Hollywood’s finest.

    But most people don’t… act. They sit in fear of being judged and allow the passages of time to wash their creativity away, until one day they wake up on their death beds and realise their entire life has been pointless.

    So if you have a gift, whether that’s painting, writing, music or something else, wake up. Wake the fuck up.

    The world needs you and your art. And it needs it now.

    How Bill Crandall and Film Club saved my life

    I once aspired to be a novelist. In my twenties, I actually spent one summer writing day and night and came up with a couple of half-decent manuscripts.

    A few years after that I took a sabbatical to focus on two more novels, both of which I managed to complete and circulate to literary agents for representation.

    And then COVID hit, the publishing industry was turned upside down and I didn’t hear back from any of the agents who had requested my manuscripts.

    I lost hope. I turned to other endeavours as a way out (mainly becoming a copywriting hack) and told myself that it’s okay. That the world didn’t need me or my art. That I would do just fine without it.

    And then a few weeks back I met Bill Crandall at a party. We started talking about films and by the end of the night, agreed to meet up once a week for a showing at his house. There’s a separate post dedicated to this experience here.

    What I wanted to say was that through a series of art house films – and Bill’s encouragement – my wobbling hand finally picked the pen up again. I started this blog, blew the dust off my shelved novels and just started flexing my previously atrophied creative muscles again. And let me tell you: it feels fucking good.

    It doesn’t matter if it’s “good” or not

    Coming back to that last line in Flora and Son, (“you’re fuckin’ shite”) one thing I’ve learned is that it doesn’t matter what somebody else thinks about your art. If you enjoy doing it, like really enjoy, everything else will fall into place.

    Another scene that perfectly captures this sentiment is in Sing Street when Conor stands up to the bully and says, “you only have the power to stop things, but not to create” and that shit hits hard.

    Destructive forces are at hand. We have “AI creators” now and Elon Musk thinks Grok can make a better version of Nolan’s Odyssey (as if). It’s up to us now to take a stand.

    Let John Carney’s characters do the talking

    For when you fear being mocked:

    “Rock and roll is a risk. You risk being ridiculed” – Brendan to his brother, Conor

    For when you think you need to know how to do everything 100% right:

    “Did the Sex Pistols know how to play? You don’t need to know how to play. Who are you, Steely Dan? You need to learn how NOT to play, Conor. That’s the trick. That’s rock and roll. And THAT… takes practice.” Brendan again.

    If you feel like life is “meh”:

    “One of the most banal scenes is suddenly invested with so much meaning! All these banalities – They’re suddenly turned into these… these beautiful, effervescent pearls. From Music.” – Dan (Mark Ruffalo) in Begin Again

    And then this exchange between Dan and Greta in Begin Again perfectly captures the quintessence of John Carney and how art can change lives:

    Dave: But we’re just gonna have to find a way to get through this, get through this together.

    Greta: When did you, like, when did you realize that?

    Dave: When you sang to me on my voice mail. I realized that nobody on Earth in their right mind would ever do anything remotely like that, and… that killed me. That crushed me. You… completely won me over.

    Greta: You know, I wasn’t actually trying to win you over. I was trying to tell you to fuck off.

    Bottom line

    Here it is: tune up that guitar, fill up that pen, dust off that typewriter, and then – immerse. Immerse. Immerse. If not for you then for the world.

    <Odyssey

  • What I really thought about Nolan’s “The Odyssey” (contains spoilers)

    What I really thought about Nolan’s “The Odyssey” (contains spoilers)

    This film has become more divisive than it needs to be. You’ve got the “I hate it” camp. The “greatest film of all time” camp. And the “meh” camp. I definitely didn’t hate it. I didn’t find it “meh” at all.

    As for “greatest film of all time?” that changes pretty much week on week for me.

    What’s it about

    If you aren’t familiar with Homer’s 7th century allegorical poem of epic proportions, then good. At least you won’t be one of those people bemoaning the lack of historical accuracy in Nolan’s adaptation.

    In short: it’s been ten years since the fall of Troy and Ithaca’s King and great hero, Odysseus, hasn’t returned.

    His journey home went a wee bit wayward after a “slight” detour, during which he survived a cyclops, a witch, sea monsters, sirens and other ethereal beasts, including the Gods themselves, before finally washing up on Ithaca’s shores to save his Kingdom from a bunch of cunning “suitors” waiting to pounce on his absence and snatch it from under his son and heir, Telemachus.

    That just about summarises it anyway.

    Nolan’s masterpiece

    Apparently, Christopher Nolan was supposed to direct Troy some twenty years ago. But then Wolfgang Peterson, who developed the film, didn’t get his Batman V Superman movie green lit and so asked for Troy back.

    Twenty years later, Nolan finally has his own Greek epic. And it. Is. Gorgeous.

    Seriously who gives a shit about historical accuracy, when you’ve got shots like these (and more) that will leave you drooling?

    Here’s what I loved about the film:

    The cinematography is world class

    The acting is world class

    Ludwig Göransson’s score is world class

    Nolan’s direction is world class

    This on IMAX is world class

    The storytelling is world class

    Why it spoke to me

    If you’ve seen any of my film club “reviews” you’ll know that I’m always looking for a story that resonates, regardless of the media.

    The Odyssey was no exception.

    Now I haven’t read the book (yet), but I did connect with Nolan’s world building and narrative.

    Odysseus is all of us going through the motions in life. Just when we think we’ve done the right and dutiful thing in figuring out how to penetrate an impenetrable fortress, we quickly realise that that may not always be a good thing.

    We tear down walls and watch as people descend to the level of beasts in their pursuit of lust and power, while we look on in despair, knowing that this was all our doing.

    I remember once, at work, being asked by my boss to do something that would result in somebody else losing their job and being torn between having to do my duty and doing the right thing.

    In the end, I couldn’t go through with the request and ended up walking away, which means I don’t see the ghost of a jobless colleague every day at 3AM.

    And then, when trapped in a cave with a giant cyclops, just when we’ve figured out a way to escape and save lives, we decide to give our Ego a boost and take the beast down. It backfires, more lives are lost and we barely make it to safety.

    It reminds me of a time when I participated in a pub quiz. We were top of the leaderboard and had the chance to double our points at the end. Double or nothing. You’d think finishing first would be enough, but we made the collective decision to keep playing and ended up losing all our points – and the title – to another team. Ouch.

    Odysseus’ journey is transformative. In every conundrum, he has a decision to make as the leader of his men. And every decision has its own set of consequences. Do we continue out into sea and lose all men to a giant whirlpool? Or do we veer off course, brave another monster, but lose fewer men?

    Can we overcome lust, gluttony, temptation and guilt to finally get to where we’d set out to in the first place?

    Life itself is an Odyssey. It’s not always straight-forward. We may pick a course from A to B, but, often, we’ll meet unexpected challenges and obstacles that will test our resolve and throw us off course. And only when we go through these challenges, will we emerge on the other side as our best selves.

    Is mainstream media influencing people’s perceptions?

    I was out with a group of friends and one of them was talking about their experience with The Odyssey. According to them:

    I can’t stand Tom Holland

    Why is Helen of Troy black?

    It was too long (see my post on phones and attention span)

    It was historically inaccurate

    Something about Anne Hathaway’s forehead

    What’s up with the diverse cast

    Why are none of them actually Greek

    I’m sure there was more, but by this point I’d completely switched off. I’d read all this in a “critic’s” review of the film already. She’d regurgitated it almost word for word and when she was done, I asked her one simple question: “is that what you really thought of it?”

    She looked at me, bemused, and said, “I mean, yes, like why do they cast…” snore.

    Look, let me be honest with you. If you want to watch the film, go out and watch it. Form your own opinion. Look past the casting and the historical inaccuracy and embrace it for what it is.

    It’s a Nolan film. It’s epic. It’s beautiful. The actors transform into the characters they play. In fact, I wrote a short verse about it:

    This man they once called Bourne

    He now dons the helmet of Odysseus

    His taut frame sits in its armour

    He strings bows like in the days of ardour

    His wife, the beautiful and majestic Queen

    His son, discovering his heritage still

    Though in another world she dresses in prada

    And he swings on a web from building to building

    As for Eurylochus, we’ve seen him strum a guitar

    And make people laugh

    All this in another life

    In this life, he serves as Odysseus’s right hand

    The strings detach

    The stage is gone

    All that’s left is the fate of Ithaca

    And the one hero that can bring her back to glory

    No cameras. No rigging. No crew. No cast.

    No lens to capture the fate of the ancient world.

    Just a man who wants to get home, no matter what.

    And that is the true Odyssey.

    Yes there are other adaptations, each with its own merit. I haven’t seen the other ones (yet), but on its own, as a cinematic set piece, I can’t imagine a better version tailored for the big screen. The cyclops scene alone is worth making the trek to an IMAX theatre.

    For me:

    Rating: 5 out of 5.

    If you’d like to share your thoughts on the film, actual or otherwise, please do so in the comments. I’d love to hear what you (actually) think.

    <Phones

    Art>

  • Phones – a global epidemic?

    I’ve been thinking about how to write this post for a long time now. But what the heck, maybe I’ll just write and see where it goes.

    My biggest problem, I think, is that I second guess myself too much. Will this be “academic” enough? Will it sound “intelligent” enough?

    But this is a blog dammit, so who cares, these are my thoughts and I just want to put them down somewhere. So here goes.

    I was at the hospital the other day and decided to run a wee experiment. I wanted to see a) how many people were on their phone at any given point and b) how long people could go for without getting their phone out.

    There were 36 people in the waiting room for the hour and a half that I was there. 3 left and 3 came in, so the number remained 36 throughout. And these are my findings:

    • At one point or another, all 36 people made use of a cell phone
    • The longest a person lasted without using their cell phone was 20 minutes

    I don’t think you can draw any serious conclusions from this. But it did get me thinking: have we become obsessed with our screens as a society?

    My personal struggle with screen time

    I can’t speak for the whole world. But I can speak from my own experience. I got my first cell phone when I was 13. My parents gifted me a Nokia 3310. It had a black and white screen, you could compose ringtones and play Snake.

    Even without Instagram and other apps, I’d spend a lot of time on the phone, as did most of my peer group. I blame Snake for that.

    Fast forward to today. We’re spoiled for choice. Apps, a new iPhone release every week (kidding, not kidding), 10000 mega pixel cameras (front and back) and easier access to phone data thanks to “bundles” and “deals” from sim providers.

    Literally, anything can be done on a phone. Who needs the real world right? Want to connect with people, there’s WhatsApp. Want to compare lives? There’s Instagram. Want to get “influenced” by the latest trends, there’s YouTube (and YouTube Shorts). There’s Threads. Snapchat. Tik Tok. Viber. The list goes on and on and on. Again, who needs the real world?

    I know I’m guilty of always having my phone on my person. If I sit still for a few minutes, I start to feel the itch. And when I feel the itch, I get my phone out. And here’s my usual app route:

    • WhatsApp: who’s messaged, have I replied to everyone that’s sent me a message? Ooo, updates, who’s got things to share. Time: 3 to 5 minutes
    • Instagram: let’s see what people are up to. Generic story 1. Generic story 2. Oh look, so and so went to Bali. Didn’t someone else post the same exact picture? Time: 8 to 10 minutes
    • BBC Football: has anything changed in the last 1 hour since I last checked? Time: 4 to 6 minutes
    • YouTube: shorts. Recently, Lionel Messi highlights, Beatles throwback, ancient Vedic traditions explained in an AI-generated voice, AI-generated “What-ifs” featuring Draco Malfoy. Time: 10 to 15 minutes.
    • Repeat after 1 hour.

    The issue

    I ran a quick DuckDuckGo search and found a few stats on attention span. Here’s one that coincides almost perfectly with my aforementioned experiment:

    The average attention span of adults over 60 is 18 minutes, compared to 22 minutes for adults 18-30, per a 2022 study in Neurobiology of Aging

    Remember I mentioned that the longest a person lasted without using a phone was 20 minutes? Hmm, looks like this is coming off pretty “academic” already!

    Here’s another stat that didn’t really surprise me:

    The average work-related attention span is 2 hours, a 50% decrease from 4 hours in 2000, as reported in a 2023 study by Microsoft

    But is phone use and social media to blame for this? I did take an econometrics module, but I’m not going to run a regression analysis on STATA here (still have PTSD from that). I will however, pull up this stat:

    The average American spends 7 hours daily on digital media (excluding social media), reducing their attention span for non-digital tasks by 22%, per a 2023 study by Nielsen

    Side note: if you are an academic and feel like I’m not doing this right, just let me know. It’s been a while since I did my Masters.

    From what I’ve gathered, though, is that phone use – and consequentially social media – has contributed, in one way or another, to reduced attention spans. Conclusive or otherwise.

    Personal observation

    We can pull up stats all day and I’m sure somebody has run a regression analysis to establish causality between phone use and reduced attention span. But I don’t want to get too academic here (ironic).

    So I’ll just draw on the power of observation to embolden my statement.

    Before smart phones and apps, I used to be able to sit through five days of test cricket with my father. The year was 2000, before cell phones became mainstream. That means nobody at home had one.

    The match was between South Africa and India. All the greats were playing from Tendulkar to Kallis. If you don’t know who they are, use your phone to look them up (joke).

    It started at 11AM. Mum brought popcorn over to us. My kid brother had his building blocks out on the floor. Dad and I sat in full concentration, only stopping at drinks breaks, lunch, tea and – finally – when the day ended. 7 hours a day for 5 days, no distractions.

    Today I can’t sit through a coffee with Dad without him checking his phone every 20 minutes or so. Not because there’s anything urgent happening. Not because he has to. So I asked him why and in his words: “what are you talking about, I’m not checking my phone.” Sigh.

    The antidote

    I don’t know what your experience with using a phone is like. But when I spend a lot of time on mine, I end up feeling mentally – and physically – drained.

    When I use my phone before bed, I sleep poorly. When I use it first thing in the morning, I find that I can’t concentrate during the day.

    You don’t need a stat for this. You just need a little bit of self awareness to gauge how you feel before, during and after cell phone use.

    Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve made the conscious decision to reduce screen time. Here are a few practical things that have helped with this (yes you’ve probably seen a thousand of these on YouTube and Instagram):

    • No phone use for the first hour of the day
    • Phone use restricted to “office” hours: 30 minutes mid-morning, 30 minutes in the evening
    • Deleted distracting apps (YouTube, Instagram)
    • Phone charges in another room, so it’s out of sight and out of mind
    • Phone has been set up to allow only certain people to call and message if they really need to get through

    To help things along, I’ve also started tracking the following data:

    • Number of non-intentional phone pick ups: how many times do I check my phone without an intention?
    • Screen time

    What about “raw-doggin”?

    That’s not a sexual reference. That basically means doing absolutely fuck all for a specific period of time. Like when you’re on a long flight and you don’t watch or read anything. You just sit for the duration of the flight, with your thoughts and nothing else.

    I’m also trying to make “raw-doggin” a part of my day to day. I’ve started with a 5 minute exercise every morning, where I just sit still and stare at a blank wall.

    “5 minutes? So little?”

    If you’ve read Atomic Habits like the rest of the world, you’ll understand the power of compounding tiny habits over a prolonged period of time.

    My plan is to increase this by a minute every week until it pretty much becomes my entire existence. By then we’ll have iPhone 100 and I won’t be buying it.

    Final thoughts

    I’m not trying to say that cell phones are bad or good. Used in moderation and with the right intention, I don’t really see the harm.

    But when we actually start looking up from the screen, we begin to notice the world in greater detail. Colours appear more vivid. People appear more interesting. We see movement. We see life.

    And, to me at least, things are definitely more interesting off screen. So maybe it’s time to start living more intentionally. How’s that for being academic?

    <Satantango

    Odyssey>

  • Satantango: why I watched Bela Tarr’s 7-hour magnum opus (may contain spoilers)

    Satantango: why I watched Bela Tarr’s 7-hour magnum opus (may contain spoilers)

    We live in a world of insta-gratification. Don’t believe me? Here’s a statistic to prove it:

    While the average person in the UK spends around 4 and a half hours per day watching TV and video content, the average time spent per video is 2 to 3 minutes. This reduces to mere seconds on “YouTube Shorts.”

    Combine this with the fact that only 20 per cent of film school students in the United States could sit through an entire movie at home and you have your answer.

    And there’s no shortage of content either. On average, 16,000 videos are uploaded every minute on TikTok, while Netflix added 39 films and TV shows just in August 2026.

    This means if the emotional pay off doesn’t take place within the first few seconds, or minutes, it’s usually scrolled, skipped or ignored entirely.

    An act of defiance

    And so, as one would on a typical Monday at 2:40 AM, I undertook the mammoth task of watching Bela Tarr’s magnum opus, Satantango in one sitting.

    Call it an act of defiance. Or maybe “insanity” is the word you’re looking for. Whatever it is, I knew I had to do it for the sake of what good’s left in this over-stimulated world.

    And boy, I sure didn’t regret it.

    Satantango: what’s it about

    The plot centres on a farming commune in rural Poland at the fall of communism. Man has descended to the level of beast (symbolised by the opening scene with cows milling about), succumbing to his baser instincts.

    There’s filth, vice, debauchery, culminating in a suicide and the timely arrival of a mysterious figure with Messianic qualities, the great and cunning Irimais (played by Mihaly Vig), whom they believe will take them out of the dump and restore glory to all.

    Satantango: my experience

    If you aren’t familiar with Bela Tarr’s work, he is the master of the long shot. The average length of a single shot in this film is around 4 and a half minutes. This makes it around 150 shots across 12 chapters.

    Perspective: this very shot lasted about 6 minutes. Neither character spoke a word. There’s some movement, but not a whole lot. Neither of them have phones or anything to distract them with. They’re just waiting. Patiently. Calmly.

    Put it this way; there’s an extended pub scene where the viewer looks on as people dance to the monotonous, repetitive tune of a harmonium for 12 minutes. You might as well be at the pub yourself, perched on a bar stool with a cigarette, taking it all in.

    I guess that’s what Tarr intends. About two and a half hours in, it ceases to be a film and becomes part of your very existence. You actually end up bonding with the characters, spending time with them in each and every lingering frame.

    As for the emotional pay off? You’re sitting through 7 and a half hours of mundane, albeit scenic, run time for a mere 30 minutes of Irimais’ charisma, including a powerful 12 minute monologue. And boy is it worth it.

    Bela Tarr’s warning

    In both Satantango and Werckmeister Harmonies, as well as his other films I’m sure, Bela Tarr hints at the collapse of civilisation as we fail to rise above our animalistic desires and embrace a higher level of consciousness.

    In the words of Irimais:

    “They are slaves who lost their master, but they can’t live without pride, dignity and courage. Yet they don’t feel such qualities reside within them. They only know how to live in the shadow of such things. They follow that shadow like lemmings off a cliff. They can’t live without their fantasies. But when they get too close they can’t handle it.”

    I won’t spoil the true motif behind Irimais’s actions, but I will leave you with this one passage from the film that summarises Tarr’s warning:

    “Drawn out by the tender sound of the accordion, the spiders in the pub launched their last attack. They sewed loose webs on top of the glasses, the cups, the ashtrays, around the legs of the tables and chairs.

    Then, they bound them together with secret threads so that in their hidden corners they’d notice every little stir and more until this almost invisible web would not be damaged.

    They sewed a web on the sleeper’s faces, their feet, their hands. Then hurried back to their hiding places, waiting for an ethereal thread to move, to start it all again.”

    Relevant to today

    Are we also slaves without a master, living in the shadow of pride, dignity and courage? Well, if we are not able to sit through a film without checking our phones. If we’re walking out of great cinematic epics like Nolan’s The Odyssey because our attention spans cannot take it. If we’re chasing fantasies and then getting put out by them. Then perhaps, yes, we, too, are slaves without a master.

    It was for this exact reason that I watched Satantango. Earlier I said it was an act of defiance. I want to slightly amend that to: it was an act of necessary defiance. It was my way of standing up to scroll-culture. To mediocre “films” that flit from shot to shot every few seconds. To artificially generated “art” that has no soul. To generic images patched together haphazardly with no meaning.

    So go and watch Satantango. No, go and live Satantango. For yours and all our sakes.

    Here’s a wee bit of verse to send you on your way, from yours truly:

    Like sheep, asleep, the herd they move,

    To the Devil’s tune, a loon, through quagmire,

    Wake up, wake up, dizzied sheep!

    Pick virtue, not vice, let art inspire.

    Phones>