The Australian Grand Prix

The clocks went forward last night, except any belonging to me. Thus, I was not up at 5:50 this morning to watch the lead up to the first Formula One Grand Prix of the new season, but an hour later to see the start of the race. Tch.

It was a great race. Jenson Button was solid at the front except for when, apparently, he made a mistake in the pits (I never noticed it) and when the safety car came out after a couple of crashes. The quality of the crashes in Melbourne was so-so. The second, involving Kubica of BMW and Vettel of Red Bull, was quite entertaining. Kubica was attempting to overtake Vettel when the latter bashed him. Vettel lost his front left wheel. Kubica carried on, only to crash into the barrier further down the track. Despite having a wheel twisted out of position, Vettel carried on manfully for a while longer before finally accepting that his race had been run and leaft the track. He might as well have done as it is illegal to stay on the circuit with a damaged car.

World Champion Lewis Hamilton has endured a torid time this weekend with his brick McLaren but a combination of good driving and luck saw him rise to the giddy heights of third place before finally settling for forth. Given that both Ferrarris finished out of the points (Messa's car gave up the ghost while Raikkonen found himself bashing the barrier) I am sure that Hamilton will be quietly satisfied with his day.

But no one will be as happy as everyone associated with the Brawn GP team. A month ago, this team did not exist, now, they are at the top of the F1 tree! How did they do it? Well, this car is not at all a new one - it is the car that Honda spent last year developing before deciding last December to withdraw from F1 racing. During the weekend, Virgin came on as the team's sponsor. Let's hope that this triumph (Brawn finished one and two) will encourage more to do so).

Cardinal Cormac takes his bow

I attended Mass at Westminster Cathedral last night and was witness to a real first - a 'goodbye' pastoral letter from an Archbishop of Westminster. Last night, that archbishop was, of course, Cardinal Murphy O'Connor who has reached the eve of his retirement to the sticks. Well, I say 'the eve', but the Vatican does not do things as other organisations do and so we have no matter as to when it will finally announce Cardinal Cormac's successor. All that can be said, in a most gnomic fashion, is that it will be soon. 

Anyway, all nine (?) of CCM'C's predecessors as Archbishop of Westminster have died in the job so Cormac is the first to be able to walk out of Archbishop's House. His goodbye letter was as one might expect such a thing to be: allusive in referring to the controversies of his time in office, thankful for the graces receives and hopeful for the future.

Sale now on

Harlequins 38 Sale 20

A great win for Quins last weekend. Sale are fellow rivals for a top four play-off place in the Premiership; in the second half, Harlequins not only beat them but beat them well. The first half was as close as close could be with the game being dominated by the boots of Chris Malone for Quins and Charlie Hodgson for Sale. Malone, who is leaving the Stoop for London Irish at the end of the season, has received a lot of stick from Quins fans over the last couple of years, but in this game he was in excellent form, kicking all (four) of his penalties between the posts. Luckily for Sale, former England fly half Hodgson was in similarly good shape. It ended 12 - 12.

In the second half, Harlequins finally reached the Sale try line courtesy of hooker Gary Botha who broke through the Sale defence to put the ball down. The next try was scored by Seb Stegmann, a member of Quins academy. Stegmann had a great game for the First XV, really impressing with his running ability. He and David Strettle must be the quickest in the Premiership!

Following the Botha try, Sale responded with another penalty score. But they needed a try and no matter how hard they tried, it was not forthcoming. When Tom Guest scored Harlequins' third the final result was looking assured. When De Wett Barry scored the fourth, it was assured. That fourth try came from an interception - great to see if it is your player catching the ball, terrible if it isn't. Most unluckily, it was Charlie Hodgson who gave the ball away. In the end, Sale did score (Hodgson), but it was late in the game and by then, the visitors had been well and truly put to the sword.

I walked to the Stoop from Richmond and I must thank the Quins fan who stopped their car to ask me if I wanted a lift to the ground! It was awfully kind of them. I opted for the walk as it was a sunny day and I had plenty of time to walk.

On Soaps

There is an interesting article on soap operas in this week's Radio Times. The claim of the writer is that soaps 'have a duty to reflect modern Britain's racial and sexual diversity'. He continues,

Imagine you watched TV and saw no-one like you - no-one in similar circumstances, no-one you recognised, however loosely as being like yourself. How strange would that be?

Soaps have to reflect the morals, mores and indeed experiences of their audiences. If they don't, they cease to fulfil one of their basic functions - to trigger discussions about the changing nature of our society.

Interesting, and also wrong. Soap operas exist to tell a story; they exist to entertain. They do not exist to trigger debate. If they manage to do so, that is well and good, but education is not and should not be their primary purpose.

The minute the primary purpose of a soap opera becomes to trigger debate the integrity of the characters is lost; they become no more than mouthpieces for the opinions and beliefs of the writers. In that instance, it would be more honest for the writers to quit the show and start writing pamphlets for the Government or whatever interest group they would belong to.

Not all stories are character based. Evelyn Waugh was a thematic writer, meaning, he was more interested in themes than characterisation. But soap operas are and have to be character based. This is because it would be impossible to maintain an on-going drama without populating it with people - not representations of themes, but people.

The Radio Times writer asks how strange it would be if you watched TV and saw no one like you. This question betrays a lack of understanding in respect of story telling. You do not have to write directly about something in order to deal with the issue in a story. The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe, for example, is in part about the Passion, but the issue is cloaked by a fairy tale narrative. There are, no doubt, more sophisticated examples that one could draw upon. Of course, it may well be - although in fact it isn't - that soap operas haven't dealt with homosexuality and racial story lines but even so, this would not change the fact that soap operas are not soap boxes and should never be turned into such. 

Downed by the Falcons

Newcastle Falcons 24 Harlequins 16

This is one of those games that it is really difficult to talk about because not only was I not there, before today, I didn't even get round to reading any of the reports about the match. BBC Online indicates that Tom May, the Newcastle Fly Half scored four penalties and a conversion to give the game to the home side. May, who was profiled on Sky TV's Rugby Club the other week, scored four tries to give the home side the win. In keeping with the general footballisation of Rugby Union, Dean Richards said afterwards that the referee had made some 'strange decisions'.

The funny thing about the game is that while both teams went into it on the back of five straight league wins, Harlequins were joint third while Newcastle were 9th where, despite their win, they remain. Falcons fans will be ruing their poor form in the first half of the season.

Today, the Six Nations comes to an end. During my recent visit to Edinburgh, I bought a Scotland shirt so will be full of divided loyalties this afternoon. If Gilraen reads this, I will be supporting the referee. Tomorrow, I will at the Stoop to see Quins try and get back to winning wales against Sale.

Prog Rocks

I have just taken the American political How Progressive Are You quiz (hat tip, Iain Dale et al). Like Paul Burgin I took the quiz twice to see if my results fluctuated. Surprisingly, they didn't. On Tuesday I scored 257 out of 400 and today 258, which means I am - in American terms - 'very progressive'. The American average is 209.5; the American Catholic average is 210.5. Most amusingly, my scores are higher (just) than Paul's! And he is the Labour man. Old Labour, clearly :-)

Marley and Me (dir. David Frankel)

To cheer myself up after Manchester United's 1 - 4 drubbing at the hands of Liverpool yesterday, I went to see the new Jennifer Aniston & Owen Wilson film, Marley and Me. I saw a trailer for it before Young Victoria last week. It looked very, very cheesy but nevertheless maybe a good candidate for some Brain Switched Off entertainment. My hopes for the film were not high, though, as it had been comprehensively pasted by Mark Kermode in his film review on Radio 5 Live on Friday. More of that in due course as Kermode's review was not without its own (very severe) faults.

So, John and Jenny Grogan (Wilson and Aniston) are two journalists living in Miami, Florida. One day, John admits to his best friend Sebastian (Eric Dane) that Jenny is brooding. Children could be on the way. The way to stop that, Sebastian says, is to get her a dog. John does and Marley - named for Bob - enters their lives. The ploy is not very successful, however, for the film follows the course of Marley's life with his new owners and the three children who are subsequently born to them.

Marley and Me is without doubt a well meaning film. It is also, as per the trailer, very cheesy in parts: Marley tears up the furniture? Ah, but he is still beloved of his owners. Marley poos on the beach? Opprobrium from everyone but John Grogan follows. Marley fails miserably at obedience school? Oh well, it was funny the way he knocked the trainer over! Sentimentality is also a live issue. This should not surprise, however, given that it is a film about a family dog.

Regarding the actors, Marley and Me must have represented a fairly easy three months filming for them. Notwithstanding the fact that they were working with animals, neither Aniston or Wilson are stretched by their roles. Aniston is perfectly fine as Jenny Grogan. I suppose Owen Wilson is equally fine as John Grogan. I have to admit, though, his accent did get in the way of his performance though. He seems to not so much speak as drawl. And it is such a distinctive drawl that it failed to meld into his overall performance so was always drawing (or drawling) attention to itself.

The plot of the film is ropey. Its insistence on starting the picture when the Grogans buy Marley obliges it to use a couple of voice over - montage sequences to cover several years in the life of the family and Marley. This seems to me to be lazy writing. Two people wrote the script for Marley and Me. I know they could have done better because there is one scene involving the couple chasing Marley which begins with Marley being a puppy and ends (after Marley reappears from behind a bush) with him as an adult dog. It may not be great cinema, but it is always better to show rather than tell, something they clearly know. 

HERE BE SPOILERS

The final act of Marley and Me covers the end of Marley's life. He is now, for a dog, 'full of years'. He suffers a twisted stomach. The vet straightens him out - literally, but warns John Grogan that if (or, more likely, when) it happens again, she may not be able to save him. Of course, it does happen again, and this time Marley does not survive.

Mark Kermode called this end sequence 'sentimentality porn'. What he meant by this is that the film lingers with pornographic detail on the decline and death of Marley. Kermode's comment represents one of the most fatuous statements I have ever heard him make. When he gets it right, Kermode can be an incisive film critic, cutting through a lot of the nonsense of cinema, but when he gets it wrong - as here - one has to wonder if he is simply ignorant or wilfully ignorant towards the film he is watching. At any rate, as the irritatingly overlong impressions during his review showed, he had little respect for the film from even before its start.  

In actual fact, for all the faults of the film, the end sequence of Marley and Me is a very touching evocation of Marley's last days. In thematic terms, it is best compared with the decline and death of Joy Gresham in Shadowlands. If Kermode regards Marley's demise as sentimentality porn, heaven only knows what he made of Richard Attenborough's direction.

I did not time the last part of Marley and Me, but having watched it, my impression is that the writers were in complete control of their script all the way through. There was no scene that did not deserve its place. There was no scene that was either too long or overegged. Of course, there were many tears flowing, but though Kermode may not believe it, human beings cry for their pets in real life and this is a legitimate emotion, indeed, a laudable one.

Can Marley and Me be recommended? If you like dogs, romantic comedies or Jennifer Aniston and / or Owen Wilson, then you may enjoy this picture. It is not perfect - there were moments during it when I became so irritated with the development of the story that I thought to myself that I would never watch it again. But the ending certainly turned the film round. If you like none of the above, however, then it would probably be best to avoid the cinema until Marley's run is done.

"Pope to make historic visit to Britain"

Good News! Let's hope it is true. From the Telegraph:

The German pontiff will make the first Papal visit to this country in nearly three decades.

It is understood that the historic event is being timed to coincide with the beatification of Cardinal John Henry Newman, who is on the path to becoming the first British saint for 40 years.

Full story here.

The Man With The Golden Gun - Ian Fleming

Here we are then - at the end of the road. Last June, I reviewed Casino Royale, the first James Bond novel (here), and now, I have reached the last.

At the end of You Only Live Twice, Bond lost his memory after killing his arch enemy Blofeld. He lived peacefully with Kissy on her people's island off southern Japan. Upon a time, however, he felt the need to leave. He even had a destination in mind - Vladivostok.

The Man With The Golden Gun begins with Bond attempting to gain access to M. But this will be no sentimental homecoming for 007: he has been brainwashed by the KGB and has been sent home to assassinate his former boss. As if the idea of James Bond being brainwashed was not disconcerting enough, the almost indecent haste with which Fleming dispenses of the storyline - which could have filled the novel - is worse. He has form for this, of course, dealing with the cliffhanger at the end of From Russia With Love within a few pages of the start of Dr. No.

To Fleming's credit, however, Bond was definitely a weaker person after being stabbed with a poisoned knife by Rosa Klebb. In Golden Gun, however, once he has been deprogrammed by MI6, he sets off on his next mission with ease.

And Bond's mission is to travel to Jamaica and assassinate the assassin -Francisco 'Pistols' Scaramanga - who is believed to be responsible for the deaths of several British agents.

Bond makes contact with Scaramanga who, fortuitously, is looking for a 'house manager' while he holds a conference of hoods at his hotel. But while at the hotel, Bond's cover is blown and he is set up for a deadly fall. Bond is not alone, however, for one of the hoods is a CIA agent and his old friend Felix Leiter is also on Scaramanga's trail.

The Man With The Golden Gun reads more like a detective novel than a spy one. It has a rather bitter flavour - perhaps inevitable when a nasty piece of work like Scaramanga is the centre of attention - and scuzzy feel to it: all those gangsters.

As for Scaramanga, he is bad as much by reputation as by act. It is true that in the course of the novel he kills a man but by-and-large he is extremely gobby and not much else. This insufficiency, coupled with the memory of Fleming's perfunctory treatment of Bond's brain washing make The Man With The Golden Gun an unsatisfactory addition to the Bond canon; a far cry from the glory days of Casino Royale, From Russia With Love and Moonraker. It makes one pine for a proper spy case again.

Alas, there would be no more - not from Ian Fleming, anyway - and so, having come to the end of this road, all one can do is look to begin it again. No bad thing, of course, given the quality of the best works.

Further to the above, a couple of things within the story are worth mentioning. When Bond is being interrogated by MI6 at the start of the novel, there is a reference to the now late Maria Freudenstein (see The Property of a Lady review). Fleming clearly did not have a copy of that story to hand, however, as he calls her Maria Freudenstadt. Secondly, perhaps Fleming knew that he was reaching the end of the road with Bond as at the end of the story, he has him turn down a knighthood from the Queen (according to the Wikipedia review of the book, Fleming told his editor as much). Women are, of course, an important part of the story of James Bond. The book ends on a very sad note indeed as he realises that he will never be satisfied with settling down with one.

Quantum of Solace The Complete James Bond Short Stories - Ian Fleming

This second set of short stories by Ian Fleming contains the following short stories from For Your Eyes Only:

From A View to a Kill
For Your Eyes Only
Quantum of Solace
Risico
The Hildebrand Rarity

which I have previously blogged about (here), so will not do so again here. Instead, let's look at the other Bond short stories.

Octopussy

At the end of World War II, Major Dexter Smythe discovered the existence of a case of Nazi gold high up in the Alps. He employs Oberhauser, a German guide, to show him the path to its hiding place, and kills him once he has done so. For the next fifteen or so years, Smythe lives on the proceeds of his ill gotten gains in Jamaica. Then, one day, Oberhauser's body is found. The trail leads back to Smythe and at the start of the story, James Bond appears on the Major's doorstep to order him back to London to face justice. Unusually, he is given a week to return. Perhaps he is being given, the Major wonders, the chance to end the affair 'tidily' by committing suicide. Either way, Smythe never returns. He goes snorkeling, as is his wont, and is attacking by a poisonous fish. As he dies, Octopussy - his favourite fish - starts to eat him. He is discovered dead not long later.

Is Octopussy a meditation on poetic justice? On how crime never pays? I'm not quite sure. It is not a real Bond novel, though; to be that, James Bond's role would have had to have been such that only he could play it, but in truth, any character could have performed his part. The reason why Bond visits Smythe is because Oberhauser was an old friend of his. But even though Oberhauser was his ski instructor and a 'father figure' in the period after Bond lost his parents, such is Bond's lack of involvement or engagement with the story that any other person could have performed the same part. For the role to be uniquely Bond's I felt that he needed to do / think / say more than 'I'm here because oberhauser was my friend'.

The Property of a Lady

Maria Freudenstein is a Soviet spy working within MI6. But the Service knows this and has created a new department, especially for her; through her it sends misinformation back to Russia. But the story is not about that, rather, the reward that the KGB gives her for her excellent work: a Faberge egg. To realise the reward, she sells it at auction. Bond is sent along to the auction house to try and spot her handler, the Soviet agent who will try and start a bidding war so that Freudenstein gets as much money for her egg as possible. He does. The agent is sent home and Freudenstein, well, as Bond says, once the KGB realise she - and they - have been duped, she will not live long enough to enjoy the money. A neat little story, very sad though when one considers Freudenstein's fate, traitor or not.

The Living Daylights

Easily the darkest of the short stories. Bond is sent to Berlin to assassinate a Soviet sniper before they can themselves kill a secret agent as he crosses from East to West Germany. It is a dirty job, but Bond has the best aim, so is sent to do it. I have to admit I was a little surprised by Bond's scruples. The Soviets were the enemy after all. But still, that is no reason why we should descend to their level. Then again, the sniper was about to try and kill someone; doesn't that allow one to use whatever force is necessary to save the life? An interesting moral dilemma?

Bond's position gets worse when he realises at the very last moment (literally) that the sniper is a woman. He alters his aim so that he shoots her in the arm. There will be hell to pay for this, his partner says. Bond, of course, does not care.

007 in New York

When it was written this story was probably more informative about New York than Baedeker. But Baedeker never gave you James Bond's own recipe for scrambled eggs. Bond is actually in New York to warn a former Service agent that her boyfriend was a Soviet spy who was close to being caught by the FBI and CIA. Seven pages of this story are dedicated to the New York travelogue. Half a perfunctory page deals with Bond's mission. A story for Bond die-hards only.

Beware the Ides.

Speaking of anniversaries, don't forget that tomorrow we commemorate the 2053rd (44 BC) of the assassination of Julius Caesar. I trust that you will remember this sad event in an appropriate fashion.

The Minghella Film Marathon. Talk about good.

So, there I was, in bed reading a new biography of Marcus Aurelius this morning when the presenter on the radio said, "What do Truly, Madly, Deeply, The English Patient and Cold Mountain have in common?" Ah ah! 'Anthony Minghella' I cried out to myself (quietly, of course, it was very early). It turns out that this weekend in the great man's home town (or island - the Isle of Wight) there is a film marathon in his honour. All seven of his motion pictures will be shown. More information at the Minghella Film Festival's website here. The first anniversary of Minghella's death is on the 18th March (Weds).

Young Victoria - Jean-Marc Vallée

Last year, Channel Four told us that there was more to Queen Victoria than not being amused. Rather predictably for C4, it told us that she was a rather frisky young lady. Young Victoria, being PG rated, takes only a glance at that aspect of Victoria's life and concentrates instead on the political aspect to her reign.

The production values for Young Victoria are super. The editing very sharp. The locations were lavish, the costumes sumptuous. The sets were wonderfully lit - warm or cold according to the nature of the scenes that they were informing. The actors and actresses were all very good. Particular praise must obviously go to Emily Blunt who, as Victoria, holds the film together, but the other principles, Rupert Friend as Prince Albert and Paul Bettany as Lord Melbourne also deserve their praise.

Young Victoria opens with a brief precis where we learn that as a child, Victoria was so mollycoddled by her mother, the Duchess of Kent, played by Miranda Richards, and guardian (?), Lord Conroy, played by Mark Strong, that she was not even allowed to climb or come down the staircase of her home without someone holding her hand. But this was not a matter of the Duchess being overprotective on account of love. Lord Conroy needed Victoria to stay alive at all costs because she was the heir to the aging King William. But her youth meant that when he died, there would be a regency - the Duchess of Kent would rule in Victoria's place. And when that happened, he, Conroy, would rule the Duchess.

But Victoria is headstrong and refuses to sign any deal that will allow this to happen. After a violent confrontation with Conroy, his hopes of power are dashed. King William dies. Victoria becomes queen. She climbs the staircase on her own, ejects Conroy and her mother from her presence and begins to rule how she herself wishes.

And yet, not quite. Victoria may be queen, but she is politically naive. She allows the Prime Minister, Lord Melbourne, to pick her ladies-in-waiting. Fine, for as long as he is in power, but divisive once he is gone. It is when that happens that Victoria faces the first major crisis of her reign, one that ends with rioting outside Buckingham Palace itself.

In between times, Victoria also has another matter to deal with - that of who to pick as her husband. At one point, she does wonder why she can't rule alone (a la Elizabeth I), but that thought floats away on the breeze. The two candidates are the wily Melbourne and the bashful German prince, Albert of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha.

As we all know, it is Albert who won out. Even in the film, however, despite his father, King Ernest I's, and Albert's scheming uncle's (?), played by Jesper Christensen (Mr. White in Casino Royale and Quantum of Solace), worry, the struggle is fairly one sided. The biggest battle that Albert faces is to win Victoria's heart. In the end, he does it relatively easily. The film is not at its most powerful in respect of Victoria and Albert's courtship even though it is the heart of the story.

After marrying Victoria, Albert becomes the Prince Consort. I wonder if, when Charles becomes king, Camilla will be the Princess Consort? Anyway, he - Albert - quickly proves to be a far defter hand at resolving political problems than Victoria. This, however, leads to the second major crisis of Victoria's reign. She wants to be her own ruler - not someone's puppet. Not even Albert's.

The resolution to this domestic crisis is not satisfactory. Rather than resolve the problem, the film dodges it by having Prince Albert get injured as he protects Victoria from a gunman, who fires at them while they ride through London in a carriage.

While there was an attempt to assassinate Queen Victoria in the manner and during the period depicted in the film (1840 - during Victoria's first pregnancy), Albert did not take the role of a secret service agent during it. However, in the film, Albert's heroic sacrifice makes Victoria realise how much she loves her husband. All is well again. But not with the viewer because this cop out leaves unresolved the conflict between Victoria and Albert over the issue of how power is wielded by the Prince Consort.

The above gripe aside, I can heartily recommend Young Victoria. It is an excellent little introduction to the life and times of Queen Victoria. As film critic Mark Kermode said in his review, it also has a particular value insofar as it offers a very positive image of a young woman, something which is too little seen in the cinema these days. Young Victoria is also a nice counterweight to the more intense (though no less good) Duchess film (out on DVD on Monday next week).

Carthage Remembered

Fr. Finigan attacks the loyalty of The Tablet towards the authority of the Pope in his post The Tablet: How it all started. He calls the paper's attack on his parish 'astonishing' and 'embarrassingly obsessive campaign'. While the Curti article was certainly defective, I don't quite see how it was obsessive. The original article was only published, what, three weeks ago? Two weeks of hostile letters do not make for an obsession. If they are still being published in a month or two's time, that would be different. As for the attack being astonishing - can it really have been so, given The Tablet's forty year year record of attacking the Pope, as outlined in the post? Of course not.

Anyway, what interested me most about the post was not Fr. Finigan's apparent denial of the possibility of a loyal opposition existing within the Church but its final words,

Tabula delenda est.

Which, as you will know, are adapted from those spoken by Cato the Elder (234 - 149 BC) in every speech he made in the Roman Senate from about 157 BC onwards. Cato had visited Rome's bitter enemy, Carthage (northern Tunisia), and seen how prosperous it was. Upon his return to Rome, he would thereafter end all his speeches Carthago delenda est. "Carthage must be destroyed". Fr. Finigan is mounting quite the battle cry. I would not worry if The Tablet folded tomorrow, but I do hope the belligerent - though orthodox - nature of posts such as this don't cause further stress and strain in his parish.

Will we see Saracens again?

Harlequins 21 Saracens 15

Well, it was news to me. Saracens have, I read in the game's programme yesterday, been sold to a South African 'conglomeration'. Blimey. Fifeteen players have been told that they won't be kept on next season. There is even talk of the club's name being charged. Look for the new club in the Premiership next year and continuity-Saracens starting again at the bottom of the bottom rugby division.

With so much up in the air for the club, Harlequins might have expected that Saracens' First XV's hearts would not be in the game. Especially since currently Sarries languish in mid table ten points away from the top four. No such luck. They were forceful in attack, alert in defence and more than ready to sieze any opportunity to take the advantage.

Fortunately, Harlequins more-or-less had their measure; the less being when we fell 3 - 10 behind. Having said that, the game was a messy one. There seemed to be lots of turnover ball. Also, there were frustrating points when both teams seemed to get confused. Are we playing rugby union or tennis? There were too many kicks up field for my liking. Especially since they did not seem to get chased. Consequently, back the ball came for another round of kicking.

On the plus side, the game saw more rolling mauls (all by Quins) than I have seen since the introduction of the evil ELVS at the start of the season.

Amongst the players, Justin Marshall for Saracens earned his pay by his constant vigilance at the breakdown. Nick Evans, however, had a bad day at the office, missing at least nine points. Danny Care scored Harlequins' winning try. From zero to hero following his England antics last Saturday.

Moment of the game was Ugo Monye's exocet attack on Alex Goode, the Saracens' full back. As Monye picked himself up and continued his passage up field, a severely winded Goode wobbled about as if punch drunk. He almost toppled over, only to make another attempt to stand up properly. The nearest medical man started running towards him, but as he did so, Goode suddenly recovered himself and set off in search of the ball, which by now was on the other side of the pitch. It was a very dramatic moment, all the more so because it happened right in front of me. Well done to Goode for his commitment to the cause.

The International (dir. Tom Tykwer)

The International is a thriller starring Clive Owen as Interpol detective Louis Salinger and Naomi Watts as Manhattan cop Eleanor Whitman who go on the trail of the International Bank of Business and Credit which is engaged in illegal arms dealing in order to control the debt created by the conflicts its arms help support. Frankly, I am not sure how the two come together, but anyway, this was a fairly entertaining action film with reasonable performances by Owen and Watts.

The film has been compared to the Bourne trilogies but is more old fashioned than them - the action is neither frenetic and the camera is stable. There is a touch of The Quantum of Solace in the picture, although presumably the film's writer did not know that the last James Bond picture would also feature a rooftop chase and, more to the point, would be about a corporation's attempts to gain power in / over countries of the world (I know that the analogy is not quite precise as the Quantum organisation is about rich individuals trying to use their power).

The International does not rise to the heights of either Bourne or Bond. Although there are some moments of great tension in the film, it fails to draw one completely into the story. I think this is because either the characters are not as well drawn as they should be or the threat from the IBBC is too restricted. We are not given enough of an idea of how bad and powerful the organisation is.

SPOILER ALERT *** SPOILER ALERT

The best thing about the film is the ending. Salinger confronts the head of the IBBC. There is no point killing me, the banker says, if I die, someone will take my place. Salinger is caught in a dilemma. To get to the banker, he has stepped outside legal channels as he has been told that the IBBC is too powerful to be allowed to be destroyed. But now it appears that the murky world of vigilantism offers no better solution. The decision is finally taken out of his hands by an assassin in the employ of a business which was let down by the IBBC. With the banker's death and Salinger's contemplative glance, the film ends.

On the one hand, this is an awful ending as it is not really an ending at all. Having said that, it makes perfect sense if a sequel is planned. On the other hand, though, one could congratulate the picture for not using the obvious ending of the IBBC's downfall. But were they being contrary or is there a suggestion that big businesses are really too powerful to be allowed to fall? Well, the serial part-nationalisation of British banks these last few months affords a partial answer to that question. Partial, because, I would hope that if a business institution was found to be engaged in the IBBC's kind of wrong doing, it would still be hauled before the courts. Heaven help us if that is not the case.

Salinger's struggle against the IBBC has echoes of Justin Quayle's in The Constant Gardener: One man's fight against big business and one man's failure. Sadly, there is a real air of reality to both films.

A close win for Quins

Bristol 7 Harlequins 14My trip to Scotland last week made me put off writing this post before returning to London and now - it is Saturday even before I know it. Well, I did know what the days of the week were so must confess that the non-appearance of this report was a case of Putting It Off For Another Moment.

Anyway, the game. Did you know that you can watch highlights of Harlequins' games on their website here? So, this is the only contact with the game that I have had. It does not show Quins in the best light. Bristol are the weakest side in the Premiership this year with only one win to their name all season. Home or away, Harlequins should be beating them with ease.

Some interesting moments in the video.

1. The first try conceded by Quins in this game was their first try to be conceded 'in over 300 minutes of rugby'. That's almost four games. Not bad!

2. Malone had another bad game with the boot. Easy to criticise but what pressure is on the kicker when he lines the ball up. It is as if the reality of the game shrinks into his form and the ball. But, of course, if the team fought better, misses by the kicker would not matter nearly so much.

3. The penalty try is described as 'slightly controversial', but the Quins defender does clearly push the Bristol player in the try zone. If that is not allowed, then the decision to award a try seems fair to me.

The Canny Man and to home

On Sunday evening, the Scotslady and I visited a delightful little pub called The Canny Mans in Edinburgh's Morningside district. The exterior of the pub looked more like a typical Edinburgh greystone house than a pub. On the wall was a sign giving the House rules. Amongst others, No Cameras and No Backpackers are allowed. I am told that the sign once read No Australians...! Oh yes, and the dress code was smart but casual.

I can see why the No Camera rule was created. Inside, the walls - and ceiling too - have become a canvas for a multitude of decorations. We saw swords, canoe frames, paintings of soldiers, sketches and even a female shaped manikin hanging from on high. I found one or two blank wall spaces, but I trust that in time they will be filled.

The pub appears to stretch quite far back, but we stayed up front. There, it is divided into two rooms, both of which have bars. The bar in the principle bar area (i.e. the room which you walk into) took up half the room. It did have, however, a rich selection of whiskies. The Canny Mans doesn't accept cards, but the service was good. We drank wine. In a pub that seems to have been transplanted from an officers' mess somewhere in the British Empire, it seemed more appropriate to drink than beer. When I ordered our second glasses, I was served by a wonderfully polite young chap; and he was a chap, with an accent that leads me to think he has got stuck while travelling from Oxford to St. Andrew's. His crowning grace was bringing our drinks to us rather than making me wait at the bar.

The Canny Mans does, perhaps surprisingly, permit music. It was played, however, at a very respectable and appreciated low level. For such an old fashioned place, it was a surprise to see a television. But it was in the corner of one of the rooms and was showing cricket.

If you get the opportunity, this is a lovely pub to visit. Beware, though! We had a good time but it is possible to fall foul of the rules. Viz. one or two reviews at the Best Pubs website here. I would like to think, though, that the pub is a reasonable place and its quirks notwithstanding, does not seek reasons to turn people away or throw them out.

And so, with memories of The Canny Mans swirling round the senses, it was to Waverley Station yesterday and to home, from where I now write.

Arthur's Seat

by our man stumbling between the rocks

After Mass this morning, I took a walk up Arthur's Seat - the rocky hill that dominates the Edinburgh skyline. Easier said than done. The path up is sometimes the wrong side of steep and rocky in parts as well. I bravely struck on, although when I came to the rocky stair that zig zags up the hill, I did start to think that maybe I was climbing Mt Doom.

Reaching the top of the seat, I was rewarded with a wonderful view of the city, the Firth of Forth and the countryside around. And of the grey clouds that were crossing the city towards us. And, sure enough, it wasn't long before it started to rain hailstones! Time to retreat then. Thanks to the wonderful grip afforded me by my shoes, I slipped over onto my backside on the way down. "Are you alright?" a concerned young lassie asked. I said that except for my dignity - I was.

I would love to be able to say that I reached the bottom of the Seat after a long and treacherous journey during which I broke my back in at least three different places, but the truth is that while the rocks were rather slippy, I soon made it to pastures green. The injury count is no more than some cut skin.

St. Mary's Edinburgh and Blackfen, London

I attended Mass at St. Mary's Cathedral in Edinburgh this morning. As churches go, it is quite small, but has some nice paintings and sculptures on the wall. At the back of the church is also a bust of Cardinal Grey between 1951 - 83 which from a distance looked not unlike John Paul II in his later years.

When the choir processed in, they lined up behind the central altar, thus facing the congregation, and remained there for the duration of the Mass. I presume it was limitations of space that obliged them to sit / stand there. It did feel rather odd, though, having them between the altar and tabernacle.

The positioning on the choir notwithstanding, the Mass was celebrated very reverently. The hymns were unmemorable but the combination and Latin prayers were good to hear and sing.

After Mass, I withdrew to the foyer of the church. I did intend to buy a copy of The Catholic Herald, but found myself a little short of the readies. Speaking of which, I can't wait to see the look on shopkeepers' faces when I present them with Scottish notes upon my return home!

Back to today, I got some spare change from a shop and returned to the cathedral. There, I not only bought the Herald but The Tablet as well. I wanted to read the letters regarding last week's article on Fr. Finigan, writer of The Hermeneutic of Continuty and parish priest in Blackfen.

The Tablet certainly can't be accused of sweeping the matter under the carpet: Seven of the elven letters published this week all concern Elena Curti's article.

The responses are well, let's get straight to them. Before doing so, however, I would like to begin with their heading. It is irritating: Divided Parish it reads. But a few people disagreeing with what the parish priest is doing, however, does not a divided parish make. Bad journalism, there.

The first letter, by a Maureen Hedderman, raises an interesting point. She writes that 'the main Sunday family Mass at 10:30am has been replaced by the Tridentine Mass'. She does not object to the celebration of the old rite Mass, but regrets that this one was changed. It 'used to be the social focal point for the parishioners'. This has now ended because parish facilities that they were able to make use of are not available after other Masses. If that is the case, it is certainly to be regretted.

Ms Hedderman laments the fact that there has been no consultation with parishioners regarding the changes. The Catholic Church is not, of course, a democracy. If I recall correctly, Fr. Finigan has said that he doesn't see a parish council as being the solution to this problem, but even if there is no formal mechanism for parishioners to discuss matters with their priest, surely there ought to be an informal one. And indeed, unless Fr. Finigan refuses to speak to his parishioners, there is. Does the lady protest too much, then?

Finally, I am afraid a rather indignant comment by Ms Hedderman made me laugh. You have heard of the military - industrial complex running governments and starting wars. Well, now, in the Catholic Church, Ms Hedderman wonders if '[p]owerful international bloggers' are taking over her parish! Who would those evil geniuses be, exactly? Fr. Zuhlsdorf and Damian (Holy Smoke) Thompson? Look for their appearance in the next James Bond film.

The second letter, which praises Fr. Finigan's liturgical changes, is signed not by one person but several. It highlights the fact that one of the fruits of of Fr. Finigan's work is the fact that a young man is hoping to go to seminary. Just to go off at a tangent for a moment, I spoke to someone a while ago who told me how one seminarian was asked to leave after five years of study. In the rector's opinion, he was not suitable for the priesthood. It took them five years to work that out? Such behaviour is an absolute disgrace, would not happen in any other walk of life and is a stain upon the Church's character.

The third letter in The Tablet is quite simply either an execrable lie or a terrible indictment on the Fr. Finigan project. The writer, one Sue Reynolds, alleges that 'Fr Finigan has done everything in his power to prevent the ordinary parishioners from being informed about what he is doing.' That is quite a big thing to say. She continues, if you read the comments in Fr. Finigan's blog (specifically the one's regarding the Tablet article here) you will see 'why it is so important to stand up to them'. So, there you have it: commenters to the Hermeneutic of Continuity. You thought you were expressing your joy for Catholic traditionalism. Actually, you are a bunch of bullies. So there. Actually, some of the comments are fairly forthright, but pots and kettles - accusing Fr. Finigan of obsctructionism is also a pretty big charge.

Commenters to Fr. Finigan's blog get it in the next in the next letter as well. According to Margaret Murphy, 'the resulting comments were very offensive.' From her perspective, they no doubt were. I suspect Damian Thompson must have written all of them. Ms Murphy's conclusion to her letter is worthy of note, 'It was a great surprise to me that Catholics could be so vindictive and intolerant of other points of views held by people of the same faith'. In light of the attitude to traditional Catholicism by many liberal Catholics, I can only assume that she is being ironic.

The score is now 3 - 1 against Fr. Finigan so the next letter, written by Fr Stephen Brown, Chaplain at the University of Bradford, is a supportive one. He asserts that Fr. Finigan has done nothing wrong in terms of Church law and that - contra Sue Reynolds - he has 'provided full catachesis all along'. Somebody, somewhere, has been misinformed.

3 - 2. Will we see an equaliser? In The Tablet? No chance. The next letter, from Mr Robin Houghton, asks 'what is the role of the parish priest?'. From the way he describes it ('priests... are there to serve, to support, to encourage and animate the Christian community') it sounds like they are a modern kind of slave. Well, why not? Modern capitalism has made us wage slaves. Why shouldn't Vatican II have created a clerical slave class.

The last letter ends the correspondence as it began: 'There will be no winners in the unhappy dispute dividing the parish of Blackfen'. Let us gloss over the writer, Mr Clive Flynn's, mistaken assertion about the dispute dividing the parish. The Tablet probably included this letter in opposition to Fr. Finigan's reforms, but it is as much an indictment of Ms Curti's article which has put on the record opinions which should have remained in the parish.

Mr Flynn concludes, 'The losers will be the silent faithful for whom the Mass is all and church politics irrelevant.' I disagree. The silent faithful are the majority of parishioners who are probably wondering what on earth all this fuss is about and have no care for it.

No, the real losers are those who attend the old rite Mass who will now do so knowing that fellow parishioners really seem to hate it, and those who hold to the novus ordo who are not open to change. It is tempting to say to them - tough, now you now how those who loved the Tridentine Mass felt when the novus ordo came in, but let's not play the spite game. The ideal is for all parishioners to get on with one another 'to be one'. The Tablet has helped this not to happen by its biased reporting - which, given that the final score ended 5 - 2 against Fr. Finigan, it could not even correct in its letters page.

Sir Fred v the Government

As I write I am listening to Andrew Marr interview Labour deputy leader Harriet Harman on TV. They are talking about Fred 'The Shred' Goodwin, ex-Royal Bank of Scotland chairman who is currently earning as much in opprobation from the media and politicians for his £16M pension as he is from the pension itself.

Should Fred Goodwin take the pension? Morally speaking, no, but legally speaking he does appear to have a watertight case for keeping it. Harriet Harman has declared, however, that he will not. But what can she do? Well, she has just told Marr that while Goodwin may have the law on his side, the court of public opinion is against him and for that reason, he will not have his money.

Well, I'm sure that we don't have to pause for too long in order to consider the flaws in that argument. Nevertheless, Harman is insistent. Marr has asked her if the Government will take 'special legislative action' to retrieve the money. She is hoping that the lawyers will find a way to reclaim it first.

But while I a would not be sorry to see Goodwin lose that money I must confess that I feel a little cynical about the vigour with which the Government is pursuing this case. It has the air of an attempt to deflect criticism from certain other people who may also be blamed for the economic downturn. No prizes for guessing who they are.