Chatsworth House and the movies

Chatsworth House, the ancestral home of the Duke of Devonshire, is perhaps one of the most famous of all of the English stately homes. Located a stone's throw from Sheffield, Chris and I spent many Sunday afternoons there, wandering around the grounds, gardens and house, so much so, that it actually became one of our most favourite places to visit.
I follow the Chatsworth House blog (http://www.chatsworthblog.org/) which is a kind of behind-the-scenes blog of the house and estate written by the staff of the big house themselves. Occasionally a little dry and polite, this diary of daily works is a fascinating account of something which is so English it actually hurts.....
The blog, does not go back far enough, to cover the funeral of the last Duke of Devonshire in 2004. I remember seeing the funeral procession on tv, when all the staff from the estate, from cooks in their starched white uniforms to the grooms in the stables, lined the grand driveway as the coffin was driven past. Amazingly moving!
Now I have blogged about this today as I spotted the house in a preview of the movie The Wolfman, the remake of the 1941 film. Shrouded with weeds and smoke the house still was unmistakable and impressive, and I wonder just how much will be shown of it in the Benicio del Toro, Anthony Hopkins, and Emily Blunt Gothic romp. I hope a little more than was shown in Pride and Prejudice where it acted as Darcy's "Pemberly".
Anyhow talking of previews, I saw the new Robin Hood trailer yesterday and was completely flummoxed by it!
Is it me. but is the whole thing a rehash of Gladiator? Same kind of music, same galloping horses and the same very deep manly growling, from a Maximus looking Russell Crowe!
Now I am not complaining here...... as Russ as a sex-on-legs Roman general floated my boat several times in the year 2000 so his rebirth in Robin Hood will be most welcome. Having said that, I suspect the film will be a pile of Sh*t.

Anyhow Chris is away yet again, this time in London. However we did have a nice lunch out today before he went.
A villager stopped me at dusk to complain that she had not seen the Chickens in the Churchyard for a while. She was so upset when I told her that the usual bunch she was used to seeing was the junior hens that had been killed last Saturday.....at least the guinea fowl with Rogo, remain loyal in their ambles amid the graves.

Avatar

Sam Worthington

I was feeling ok until I read all of the previous post comments this morning, and now I think I must have sounded a border line depressive!
The rain is lashing down, so I completed jobs, counted the poultry (all present), walked the dogs and drove to Prestatyn to the cinema , taking some heed of all of the advice to "have a break"!

I know there was a pensioner showing of AVATAR at the scala this morning, so at 10 am (yes AM) I lined up with a few adventurous silver hairs who were clutching their pension books, and asked if I could go in.
Now although I am a youthful looking 47 year old, the manageress waved me through quite cheerfully ( and a little too quickly for my liking) and feeling a tad guilty at bunking off, I sat down in the warmth and dry, intent in watching some mindless rubbish.......tee hee
Cinema is a wonderful diversion from the mundane for me. It is a treat, it is a ritual and it always feels as though I have "come home" in a strange sort of way as I make myself comfortable in the usual pull down cinema seat!
Like many geeky teenagers (I was an expert in 1970 disaster films, terrapins and tropical fish at 15!!!) I was a lonely kid.
There was no internet,computer games and the like to divert me from the misery of puberty, so for me it was cinema that was able to transport me to somewhere a little more exciting......All during the 1970s, burning skyscrapers, overturned passenger liners, Roger Moore's acting eyebrows and a whole series of 747 near misses, kept me amused and obsessed.

Anyhow back to Avatar, which was an inspired choice for a rainy and depressing day!

James Cameron's voyage into movie history is basically an adequate Christmas present of an adventure movie which has been wrapped up in some exquisitely beautiful wrapping paper. To look at, it is quite, quite amazing, and I was entertained with this boys-own actioneer from the very start.

In Avatar, Cameron pays homage to Aliens his 1986, public and critically acclaimed blockbuster, with gut wrenching battle sequences and a reintroduction to some of his most famous characters.

So we have Dr Grace (Sigourney Weaver) who is an older and wiser Ellen Ripley, tom boy Hispanic marine Trudy (Michelle Rodriguez) is a ringer for Pvt. Vasquez and mean bastard corporate manager (Giovanni Ribisi) is definitely based on the reptilian Carter Burke.

Having said all this, Avatar is an adventure film which pays further homages to the likes of A Man Called Horse (1970) and Dances with Wolves (1990) and by doing so, it will please everyone. as the basically simple story of a man finding his true "home" is a universal fairytale of sorts.

Sam Worthington makes for a measured and quite charismatic hero (he is very easy on the eye too!) and Zoe Saldana (who is never really seen except in her CGI form) is also very good as his alien love interest.

But this film's strength lies with what you see AND experience rather than the originality of the plot or the performances of the leading actors (good as they are)........and what you see IS quite beautiful and impressive.

I gave it a spirit lifting 9/10

Perspectives

I didn't sleep well at all last night. Every hour or so I was awake listening for the chatter of the guinea fowl, but of course there was no early warnings and of course the fox was kept safely out of the little knot of coops on the field. I found another uneaten corpse yesterday afternoon, hidden under the snow, so the death toll officially was 8 birds dead with only one survivor, Rose.who got away without a scratch.
Early this morning as I was returning to the cottage I saw a neighbour, Joanne walking by with her large dogs, before I waved I was stopped by her expression, and I just knew that her father,(another close neighbour of ours who had been unwell for quite some time) had died.
There is something quite distinctive that passes over someones face when they are suffering from grief. I had witnessed it time and time again at work and indeed personally, and I can only describe the physical manifestation as a sort of "crumpling" of the features, when the face kind of disappears in on itself.
It is aways an expression that pulls a person up short!
I had a few words with Joanne and said sincere but usual platitudes of support, but as always at these times, there is very little one can actually do to be of any help.
Later I would drop off some flowers and a card to Joanne and her mother Pat, a gesture that would be mirrored tenfold, I am sure, by other neighbours from the village over the next day or so.
Today I have popped into Prestatyn to do some banking, then I collected more feed before walking the dogs on the gop. As I returned home I spotted a man at nearby bungalow, which is situated a couple of fields away from my field. I know the chap has hens so I called in to introduce myself and to warn him that a fox was around.
He was friendly and chatty and thanked me for the warning but informed me that the fox already had snatched several of his hens and a cockerel over the past few days.
Seeing that he had lost his cockerel, I immediately offered him Jesus, the smart male that had been abandoned with us on Boxing day and pleased as punch he agreed to pick him up next week...which was a nice result and conclusion to a miserable day or so.

Chris is working away tonight in Manchester
I am due an early night me thinks

Stupidity

The biggest threat to poultry is a stupid and careless keeper.
Last night I broke the golden rule of hen keeping. I overlooked the shutting of one of the poultry coop doors.
This morning,after I fed the pigs in the newly settled snow, I turned to see my largest coop's door open to the elements. I couldn't quite believe it, as I am fastidious in my routine of shutting the stock up for the night, but there it was , an open door and an empty coop.
I looked around; there was no blood, feathers or any signs of trauma, but all 8 hens had gone.
It didn't take long to find them, well I found five dead birds and one living hen ( a hybrid called Rose). She was cold , but unhurt under one of the coops further up the field, the five others were decapitated and scattered in the snow by the perimeter fencing.
The situation was clear, a fox had taken the opportunity I had stupidly given it, and had killed the lot.
I am so angry and upset with myself.When it comes to my animals I am not at all slap dash, but I and I alone had put the hens in direct danger from a predator who would do the most damage.
The hens killed included Jessop and her sister, the two young buffs, Bill the handsome black rock cockerel and four other young birds who I raised from chicks last year. All of the hens had only started laying properly since our last fall of snow.
First the badger kills the guinea fowl, now a fox with my assistance, kills my hens.
I feel as though I have let the field population and myself down.

ITU

I am writing this blog entry on my break..intensive care is quiet (at the moment) with all the patients sedated and ventilated, so all you can hear is the faint "hiss" of suction and oxygen and the gentle "push push" of the ventilators breathing for their charges.

The sound can be rather soothing, especially when the alarms of the fukuda monitors don't go off, and the peace of this evening is rare and appreciated...

generally the unit is fraught and noisy, and after an 11 hour shift all I crave is the quietness of the field and the howling of the wind in the trees.......

lets hope the rest of the night remains as silent as it is now......

Work day

I have not had a great deal of time to do very much today. Just enough time to complete the supermarket shop, spend another 60£ at the vets for flea treatments for the dogs and Albert as well antibiotics for William and supervise a brief but welcomed visit by cousin Carol and her hubby Ken, who brought a huge pile of treats up for the animals.
Working tonight, here's hoping for a quiet night on intensive care....yeah right!

ps

had to laugh at my friend Geoff's turn of phrase in his blog relating to a condensation problem on our chimney breast (see http://onceinalifetimeinwales.blogspot.com/2010/01/that-friday-feelin.html)

I love this photo!

I love this photo.....
Working for 17 years on a Spinal Injuries unit, I was always reminded that nothing is impossible to be attempted after paralysis has initially devastated peoples' lives...
This photograph embodies that living spirit, I observed in patients time and time and time again....
On reflection ( and you will need to read the previous post) it is this strength of ordinary people that I do miss from my Sheffield work days.

How we got here!

The first of my huge allotment beds has been dug over and manured today, and I feel as though I have turned the corner in starting to clear up the damage, and untidiness of winter.
As I have worked I have thought about something that blog reader Jim wrote on yesterday's blog; he stated:

"I must say John, I am jealous of how you live. Though not glamorous, it seems to
have a charm, and be charmed"

In many ways I agree with what Jim said, but I must admit the change from living in a Yorkshire City with a charm and personality all of its own to entering a small and in someways closed village community was not always the easy one that I may hint to in my sometimes overly fluffy bunny blog.

Believe it or not, I never really had an overwhelming urge to live in the country. Chris did, and was always quite vociferous about it, but I was always happy living and working in Sheffield. I had reached my objectives career-wise, and had experienced the highs (and lows) of running my own ward, and our social life was busy, varied and supportive....so when and why did it all change?
Well I got to thinking about this today, as I indulged myself in the repetitive dig-turn, dig-turn of the allotment clearing, and, as so often is the case with large life changing decisions, it was a series of "small" events that precipitated my change of mind.
As a ward manager, I witnessed changes within the Hospital trust that I had difficulty "selling" to my staff. Corporate loyalty was stretched to the limit sometimes, and quality of care was always demanded but sometimes was difficult to attain with job freezes, audit needs, and the "hands tied" rules of job's worth policy, HR demands and clinical protocols.
Colleagues that had been friends for years left the service through one reason and another, and this left managers like myself more and more isolated, as our "touchstones" and like minded professionals disappeared.
I left the Spinal Injury unit, still loving my job, but being realistic enough to understand that things would not always be the same, an event that I think is not unique in middle aged men who are questioning their lives. Chris' wish to live in the country, gave me the springboard to try something new after 17 years, and I thought "why the hell not!"...without giving the reality of rural Welsh life a proper in depth thought

At first my energy of the move went into the two cottages that we bought. Our first cottage and weekend holiday home had to be sold and a new property sought and sorted!
During our first year here, building work needed organising,decorating needed to be done and a whole garden needed to be built and designed. I was happy at doing all this, as it gave me a focus and a goal, which took over from my old work responsibilities, but after the initial adrenaline rush of hiring and firing, I was left with a slight "dip" of "what now?"
And so the animals started to arrive!
In drips and drabs, more dogs galloped into our lives, a couple of pure breed hens lived in the garden which was only the start of things to come, and the excitement of feeling responsible for a group of little beings instead of 50 staff members started to fill all of the gaps for me.
The animals and the accompanying allotments opened up relationships within the village community and I learnt to socialize more with the locals and with village groups which was a new thing for me. Friends were made, and roots laid down in community events and in a space of another year Trelawnyd became "home" in the truest sense of the word.....sounds easy eh? ....not always.......to be sure.....and I so still miss Sheffield and my friends there ( but strangely not my previous manager's position)..yet, on reflection,blogger Jim was right, I know I lead a charmed (though not glamorous) life

Turkey dances

Most of my day has centred around scraping manure and slurry from the pig enclosure into impressive piles of fertilizer next to the allotments. Not an exciting day, nor a particularly interesting one, but these stinky jobs need to be completed.
The one positive thing about all this repetitive work is the fact I have had an opportunity of watching the newly formed turkey flock from close quarters, and what an entertaining little bunch they are too.
The four youngsters (now sexed as 2 stags and 2 hens) are robust, mischievous, bright and greedy birds who spend long periods jousting and larking around like teenage boys after school.
Out of nowhere, one will take a fancy to start an odd looking kind of skipping movement, and suddenly all four are gambolling in crazy circles, wildly flapping their great big wings like idiots. This "crazy" behaviour carried on throughout the day, albeit in short bursts; and the rest of the time, the four turkeys indulge in their other passion, namely eating.
Every time I venture into the feed shed for something 8 huge black soulful eyes zoom onto my movements and the babies start calling and gobbling excitedly, bouncing up and down as if shouting "Me!!!me!!!!me!!!me!!!"
Call me a softie, but I always succumb to this blatant and hammy begging, and the turkeys know it...and as always they get offered a large handful of corn or wheat, which they bolt down within seconds . No wonder they now resemble four brown feathery barrels! and no wonder I am going through a sack of corn a week!
note their beaks, sharp and painful if they accidently peck you during a feeding frenzy...I should have clipped them short when they were poults

The White Ribbon -

hummmmmm

The White Ribbon

The last couple of minutes of THE WHITE RIBBON, was spoilt for me,only because the new digital technology at Prestatyn's Scala Cinema, let everyone down by removing the subtitles from the screen!
Having said all that, the audience generally worked the final conversation out for ourselves not that it gave any clear cut conclusion to one of the best films I have seen in the past few years.
The White Ribbon is an unsettling,suspenseful and truly gripping ensemble piece set in a small isolated German village before the start of World War 1.
The village suffers a series of seemingly unrelated but unnerving dramas over a period of a year. The village doctor is injured in a riding accident, a woman is killed in a sawmill and two children are tortured and beaten. At the same time other more "minor" mishaps befall other seemingly upright and respected families. The parson's pet bird is butchered, the Baron's son is bullied and a baby becomes ill in mysterious circumstances, and the narrator (who is crucially an outsider and the villager schoolmaster) by default tries to to work out what is indeed going on.

Director Michael Haneke cranks up the sense of dread and malice slowly and deftly, especially when the onion skins of respectability are peeled away from the characters, revealing a community run by extreme discipline , punishment and in one awful case, sexual abuse. The Children of the village are key to this movie. as they roam around in the background in an ever present pack, yet, we are never fully sure that it is their abused personalities that are central to the strange events and heavy atmosphere.
Everything in The White Ribbon is left open ended and unsettling, and as the villagers are finally led into the war, we the viewers are left with more questions about the approaching fascist threat, a decade or so away and we are left wondering about what role the children will play as they approach adulthood in the changing German world
Key scenes linger long in the mind. A child frightened and alone searching for his sister in a dark house. A tearful teenage boy being lectured about the horrors of masturbation, and the dreadfully calm verbal abuse delivered to the doctor's mistress, all add up to unsettle and wrong foot the viewer time and time again.........and I must admit that it is a long, long time since a film opened up so many avenues for analysis and review after the last reel is over.
I gave it a brilliant 9.5 out of 10

Grumpy Old Women

Last night I caught a re run of the tv programme Grumpy Old Women, the talking heads show, where celebrity middle aged ladies grumble about the woes of life.
Now, I not going to complain here! In fact the whole series is quite hilarious, especially as I found myself agreeing with everything these women had to say about the trials and contradictions of life.
Here are my recent top 3 gripes

• People talking in the cinema
• People speeding through the village
• People talking to animals as if they understand English

People talking in the cinema

Now, this is my biggest bugbear! and the older I get the less tolerant I have become of this discourteous and unthinking practice. When we were at the Scala recently enjoying George Clooney at his most flirtatious, two lads at the back of the cinema were indulging in what could only be described as a full blown and animated debate! After a brief, rather British moment of tutting, I got up, walked slowly (and you always have to walk slowly for the best dramatic effect!) over to where they were sitting and leaning right over them said in a loud firm voice " can you both shut up right now?"I have always found this direct approach to be the best action as it not only embarrasses the chattering culprit but it gives a warning to the rest of the audience to keep quiet!

Now, I don't discriminate with other social groups here! In my experience older ladies at the arthouse cinema in Theatre Clwyd are the worst offenders, and all have to be treated in exactly the same manner.....firm and fair (much to the embarrassment of Hazel, who can be often seen sliding down her seat almost onto the floor!) The last time I told two well dressed matrons off, I received a "hear hear!!" from people in the back row!

People speeding through the village

I am becoming obsessed with speeders! Balancing on the narrow pavements, often with two dogs in tow, I now seem to have the innate ability to judge when someone is driving "dangerously" over 30 miles an hour and offenders often have to "suffer" the surprise and shock of me, and middle aged man in a silly woolly hat, pointing at them with a disgusted look on my face whilst mouthing "TOO FAST!!!! TOO FAST!!!!!" in an exaggerated Helen Keller type of way

We have a zebra crossing in the village, and sometimes when I am waiting to cross it, drivers will ignore the fact that I am standing there and will drive ahead regardless....I now have a somewhat devilish plan to shock these kind of drivers, and occasionally will make a big exaggerated show of stepping forward (with no intention of walking out!) subsequently the drivers have to slam on their brakes and I can walk out in front of them smiling sweetly and bathed in the warmth of a small victory !

People that talk to animals as if they understand English

Now I have blogged about this subject before and it drives me NUTS! so much so, that when I go to the vets and have to sit in the waiting room with the usual crowd of fellow pet owners, I will do so only when I am listening to my digital radio so I don't have to listen to the drivel that some people come out with!

I remember one lady that had a badly behaved collie which was snapping and growling at every other animal in the room. She talked to the animal constantly in a strange sing song voice, telling it it was a "bad dog" and explaining at length why it was there,what was going to happen to it and why it should behave a little better!

After 20 minutes of this constant chatter and her inability to control her unsocialized animal , I was beside myself and when I finally went in to see the vet, I turned to her and said "I would give up, if I was you, he obviously does not understand English!"

................It is official........I AM a grumpy old git!

Goodbye Solo

Goodbye Solo (2008) at Theatre Clwyd this evening is a little gem of a film that skirts away from every cliche and platitude when examining depression, suicide and motivations of friendship.
Solo ( Souleymane Sy Savane) is a warm natured, talkative and perceptive Senegalese taxi driver working in a unnamed American city. He picks up a morose 70 year old William ( craggy faced Red West) and takes a booking to transport him to a mountain view point, which is a well known suicide spot, The film then chronicles Solo's never ending attempts at finding out just what may occur on this journey and shows his efforts in trying to prevent it.
The strength of Ramin Bahrani's movie lies in the fact that the audience is totally unaware of both mens' motivations and pasts. We are not even sure that William indeed wants to end his own life, and are left guessing at every twist and turn of the plot, All we are "given" is the odd and difficult relationship between silent old man and soulful immigrant, which is underplayed and subtle to say the least.
Savane gives the character Solo the gentleness and loyalty of a dog who has an unexplained connection with his crabby master, and it is this unwritten connection that makes the film so terribly moving. There are no cliches of sudden revelation or bursts of emotion to satisfy the audience in a clean cut emotional romping kind of way, and the ending isn't wrapped up with satisfying resolution, all we are left with is a strangely effective story of a very odd relationship
9/10

Buzzard

This morning I have lugged tons of stones down to the pig pen, to create a platform free of deep mud. I know the pigs seem quite happy without it, but I guess I am bowing from pressure from a few locals who perhaps feel that wet mud may be a little cruel, if left untouched.
Anyhow, as I was talking to one of the villagers who was walking her dog, the guinea fowl started their usual cries of warning, and down dropped the bird of prey again, this time quite blatantly towards the hen enclosure further up the field.
I saw the cockerels run forward and as I hurried the 100 yards or so, I could see it was not Bunny or indeed Mary the buzzard was after but one of the old and sick black rocks which had been left to free range.
I had treated the droopy old hen for a while, and for several weeks she had become quieter and more lethargic, a case of old age I guess, and yesterday's attack I suspect was a first attempt at ambushing her and not the smaller bantams as I had suspected

By the time I had scared the buzzard off, the black rock had been killed, probably more by shock and surprise than by tooth and claw, and was stone dead by the time that Maddie raced up for a sniff.
Now I haven't got all upset about this, as it was only a matter of days for the old girl and at least the whole thing was a quick and speedy check out for an aged hen . Nor do I feel rather jinxed, given the recent guinea fowl disaster; it is,like life is sometimes, just the way of the world.

Woolly hats

The day has been cold again, so out has come the woolly hat and the extra thick socks, all of which remain tightly in place even when I am sat in front of the fire with my usual blanket of dogs. Today I have used up some Christmas gift tokens and have treated myself to a pile of quality seeds for planting in the allotments come March. French beans,climbing beans,hardy broad beans onions, shallots, beetroots, seed potatoes and a host of other veg, will supplement my usual seedlings that have been swapped with various individuals from the village and my sister's co-operative allotment, and I have bought a few luxuries, including a large packet of yellow poppies seeds, which I will sow by the reducing manure heaps, to add a little colour to the field later in the season
my favourite bantam Mary, (below) had a bit of a scare this afternoon, as she was on the receiving end of a potential attack by some sort of bird of prey. I heard the cockerels growling a warning (whilst the three remaining guinea fowl screamed and whistled from the Churchyard) and I saw the bird drop like a stone into my small enclosure which houses the more delicate pure breeds and Bunny the disabled hen.
I presumed it was perhaps a buzzard , swooping down onto Bunny, but it was a smaller hawk of some kind and it seemed to be after Mary, the smallest of the my bantam hens.
The attack, in fact, came to nothing. The hawk must of thought better of it all, or perhaps the cocky little bantam Cockerel, Roger, could have scared it off, but before I could even trot over to save the day, it had swooped up and out of the field, with only the scream of the guineas to mark where it had been.
My idea of having the guinea fowl as watchmen over the others, perhaps might of been a good idea.

The word is pronounced "Itttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt!!!!!!"

I despair for modern Britain sometimes.....
Take, for example these two "role models" Fooballer Jamie Redknapp and his model wife Louise waving the flag for Thomas Cook holidays.......
THEY CAN'T EVEN SPEAK THE QUEEN'S ENGLISH!!!
when I was at school , the word "it" was pronounced with an emphasis on the T........when on earth did it become just plain "i"?
I am a crabby old git

Thelma Ritter

The rain has lashed down all day.It has remained gloomy, dull and rather depressing, and the only brightness in an otherwise black day has been the welcomed return of the Churchyard snowdrops, which now carpet the wall boarders.
Chris has had to do some written work and has attended Church this afternoon, so I have become all Thelma Ritter- ish and have busied myself with cleaning the kitchen properly (whilst indulging in the odd wisecrack at Chris' expense)
The dogs have become somewhat stir crazy because of the weather, so I delivered eggs,collected coal and took them for a blast on the beach, which was a slight shock to the system given the icy rain and wind.
What I need is a good movie evening!!, so I have lit the fire, and tonight we are going to watch my cheapo supermarket dvd buy..the French Thriller Tell No One!
I saw it a few years ago (see old blog http://disasterfilm.blogspot.com/2007/10/tell-no-one-simple-pleasures-and-glen.html) and loved it......I haven't had the heart to tell Chris it is Subtitled,,,, (he hates subtitles with a vengeance)

Saturday joke

made me titter......
night in with reality tv....................
sigh

End of An Era

The last of the great British movie stars died today. Jean Simmons, that demure (though not-so-squeaky clean in real life), English rose of Hollywood, and movie star since the 1940s lost her battle with cancer at the age of 80.
To me Simmons was a bigger star than the unofficial "Queen" of the Brits Elizabeth Taylor, yet like Taylor, Simmons possessed a steely strength and talent under her considerable beauty, which kept her working steadily for over 60 years.
I loved her performances, and even in some of her more crappy films, she always stood out from the crowd..... who could forget her characters such as Young Estella in Great Expectations (1946),Sarah Brown in Guys and Dolls ,Varinia in Spartacus (1960),Sister Falconer in Elmer Gantry (1960) and my personal favourite, Julie Maragon in The Big Country (1958),a film that she was famously quoted to have quipped "Who do I have to fuck to get off this movie?"
I am sure by blog friends Bel-Ami and Alex will have more articulate tributes to Miss Simmons, suffice to say, another great old dame of British cinema has disappeared forever

Up In The Air

Up in the Air is an interesting film, as it is a serious comedy of two interlocking parts. The first is a wry and sometimes painful look into corporate America (and the phenomenon of buying in a company to effectively "fire" your own staff), whilst the second is an affecting study of first love in middle age.
Juno (2007) director Jason Reitman wisely chose George Clooney as Ryan Bingham, the man that jumps from city to city to do the firing. Clooney quite effortlessly becomes the suave and likable, but ultimately emotionally bankrupt employment grim reaper and like his Nemesis Cary Grant, he is at his best whilst indulging in the sexy and ever-so-funny banter with Eva Marie Saint look-a-like,Vera Farmiga, who plays his female businesswoman mirror counterpart.
The two are quite lovely to watch together. and their chemistry is much more impressive than Clooney's wonderful turn with Jennifer Lopez in Out of Sight.......Both Farmiga and Clooney are twin sharks in the corporate world with Farmiga purring "Think of me as yourself with a vagina," however the amusement of their laptop/mobile phone sexual relationship turns slightly sour when Clooney's character actually falls in love with her.
Clooney has never been better as the isolated Bingham, with Farmiga and the prickly Anna Kendrick as the new whizkid on the block being standouts in an excellent cast.
Praise must also go to the score of actors that play the employees on the receiving end of redundancy....their brief yet vital snapshots of shock and despair, are convincing and incredibly moving.Ultimately , the film has lots to say about how people view themselves; some people are defined by their job and status, others by the relationships they engage in, and some, hopefully like the majority of us, define themselves with a bit of both
I loved Up In The Air
8.5 out of 10