Things I watched, listened to and read this week
A book review
1944, and a 15 year old girl walks alone through a forest in the village of Velp, just outside Arnhem, in the Netherlands. Although her native language is Dutch, she is cautiously singing a song in English so that the British Paratrooper for whom she carries a message can come out of hiding with confidence. On her way home, she runs into a nazi officer. Deadly scared that she will be discovered as a member of the resistance, she hands him some flowers, and carries on her journey.
Later, she would be driven out of Arnhem by the nazis, joining ten thousand others, left to fend for themselves in the countryside, clawing out turnips with numb, cold fingers from the unforgiving frozen ground. When her body caves in and death becomes a prospect, her mother will save her life by selling enough expensive cigarettes on the black market to buy the new wonder drug penicillin.
Sixteen years later on an October dawn, the same girl stood at the window of Tiffany’s in New York, by then, an Oscar-winning movie star, shooting an opening scene for a movie, a still of which would soon occupy picture frames on walls the world over.
Audrey Hepburn can be legitimately described as an icon and this book, bought at Foyles Charing Cross Road minutes after walking out of a matinee screening of Roman Holiday at the Prince Charles Cinema last Friday, was a joy to read this week.
Whenever I read about times of old, the past always strikes me for its modernity. It seems that everything now is as how it was then. Trauma. Success. Failure. Self-destruction. Loneliness. The vast void within and all of the other phrases and buzzwords that will be getting spat out over dinner tables this very evening were central to the lives of the people who are either no longer alive or are holding themselves up on canes on the streets upon which we live. Audrey Hepburn, and her mates, could well have been our mates. It seems such an obvious statement, but there is some comfort to be found in the idea that nothing much really changes and as the decades roll by, we are pretty much all the same.
I enjoyed this book. I enjoyed it for its insights, insights like this; In 1954 while filming Sabrina, Audrey Hepburn has an affair with the actor William Holden. Years later, on that affair he said ’’sometimes at night, I’d get a portable record player and we’d drive out to the country, to a little clearing we’d found. We’d put on ballet music and Audrey would dance for me in the moonlight. Some of the most magical moments were out there’’
If you can think of anything more romantic than this—comment below.
I bought Audrey, Her Real Story, over the counter at Foyles, Charing Cross Road. I can't find a copy you can buy online on any website that isn't Amazon, so-go order it from your local store and spend a week with Hollywood royalty.
A film review
Buckle up! Everyone’s favourite Ken is off to space to save the world, and you’re invited along for the ride. The question is: can you lower your levels of cynicism enough to enjoy the view?
Beautifully shot with a gorgeous colour palette, this is as much a light show as it is a movie, and Ryan Gosling’s Grace—a teacher turned astronaut—holds his own in a film that, for the majority, is essentially a monologue.
In my recommendation of this film, I want to spell it out clearly that it’s the colours on a big screen that you are paying for. Note the Kodak rainbow brand on the socks of the lead role, on the T-shirt of a background artist, and keep this in mind as you bask in a prism of light-fueled liquid motion. Then, if your early-doors gleeful cinema experience abandons you somewhere around half time, as the dialogue takes a turn for the worse, carry on regardless—and don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Because here’s where it falls short:
Quips—endless quips. A script that is determined to make you giggle, set against set design as awe-inspiring as this, just feels a little mismatched. Imagine A Space Odyssey-adjacent sets, but written by the staff writers on Sabrina the Teenage Witch. Imagine a film so lush in colour, so grand in design, but with the writers of SNL given absolute authority on dialogue. Imagine Contact, if the director didn’t trust the audience enough to sit through 30 seconds of silence while some incredible space stuff happens—and that’s where we are with this relentlessly quippy script.
Did you ever watch Deadpool and love the action but feel like you were being stupdified by the side bits of dialogue mid-fight? This film is all of that, for close to three hours.
Credit should be given to the directors commitment to the analogue. Gosling’s co-star is a puppet, controlled by an actual puppeteer. But even that is ruined slightly by that puppet’s chronic case of subject pronoun omission. It’s all Me Tarzan, You Jane. Watch the film and you’ll know what I mean.
Still—I think you should go see it, because while the writers were working out how to be funny, everyone else was focusing on how to be beautiful.
Go for the lights, for the set designs, and for a Ryan Gosling—a genuine modern-day Hollywood movie star—this is worth an evening out. You might just tire of the gags as you’re sat in the co-pilot’s seat on your mission to stop the sun burning out.
I watched this film at a Picture house cinema.
An album review
Finally! Flea has done something I can enjoy.
There’s a famous review by Greil Marcus, published in Rolling Stone magazine, of Bob Dylan’s excellent album Self Portrait. The review was made up of just four words: “what is this shit?”
Nick Cave once said, “I’m forever near a stereo saying, ‘What the fuck is this garbage?’ And the answer is always Nickelback.”
My own opinions on Red Hot Chili Peppers sit somewhere between these two inspired takes, so it’s a delight to me that Flea has done something that I can enjoy: a quality largely instrumental piece released today.
This is a truly beautiful album. Nick Cave’s contribution Wichita Lineman is going to hold up as a classic forever and brings to mind Robert Wyatt’s Shipbuilding—honestly, the world is now a better place because this take on Glen Campbell’s song exists. It’s one to make your eyes water and if you don't listen to the whole album, listen to that song at least.
So why not five stars—because every now and again Flea pops up between tracks to tell us that we are ruining the planet, which I guess is true. But I live alone and cycle everywhere, and I find the preachy bits of globe-trotting rock stars a bit irksome and this almost flawless piece of work really could have done without it.
Still, here is an album that will no doubt rank high once the end-of-year lists are out.
Also, I quite like Nickelback.
An album review
Everyone is going crazy for this album, and I wish I was too, but, as a whole, this nine-track jigsaw puzzle largely left me feeling like I am missing a vital piece.
Glitchy hyperpop, packed with moments that sparkle and others where the production occasionally feels like it might be getting in the way of some genuinely great pop songs.
Maybe I’m still locked into the Halcyon days of my Taylor Swift era, but when I listen to music created with a maximalist approach to the production, I can’t help but think if you just dropped that beat and that cut up, dissected, hassleback potato approach to melody—you’d have an amazing Taylor Swift song. But, it’s 2026, and a new kind of pop sound appears to be emerging, and I think the sun is settling on that fair isle of Swiftism of which I was once a happy resident.
Considering the artist’s prodigious talent—having started producing at just 13—it’s clear that the production is as much the star of the show as is the song-they kind of share a joint billing- and as I listen to incredible quality across an album’s worth of glitch-pop art, I understand why many will love this, but recognise one wasn’t recorded for me.
You can read more about Underscore here
A restaurant review
Pierre Victoire is an old-school bistro, tall candles, wooden tables and all, on the bit of Soho that meets Oxford Street, illuminated by the new Elizabeth line station and neighboured by a booming Tesco Express.
Packed out with an eclectic bunch of diners (next to us a weird threesome that clearly met on an app—the table adjacent to them a guy that was the spitting image of Winston Churchill), but with each duo, trio, thruple or whatever, given their own table island, this place is a real treat that feels like what you might have hoped Soho dining would be before you moved to London.
The staff are on the side of the customer, offering tips on how to work the menu, and the food is exceptional. Vegetarians, such as I, don’t often get to enjoy French food, but here we had options that were a delight. My French onion soup hit hard, the goat’s cheese salad served with baked beetroot and walnut pesto felt refreshing against the deep, earthy flavours of my mains; an open pie of spinach, mushroom and perfectly mashed potatoes.
Dinner for two, with starters, salad, mains and a bottle of Pinot Noir, came to £127. You can book your table here
A rant
I called in to see my friends at Rooz rehearsal studios this week. Rooz has been in operation since the late 90s—bands like The Libertines and Razorlight called it home for a while, and now Guitar Social members use it often. I had a chat with the owner. He was on his way to a meeting with the crooks at the local council.
A new rule is in place. A carpeted surface is considered office space, and all businesses with carpeted surfaces have to pay a higher business rate.
This is problematic for a rehearsal space because the walls and ceiling are all carpeted. A representative from the council has been and measured the whole lot and jotted it down as square footage that needs paying for. Even the ceiling.
I hope Rooz fight this and win. But it reminded me of my own interactions with councils when I owned and ran venues. We don’t have the mafia in this country, but we do have councils.
Use Rooz. Don’t use Pirate Studios. Support independents all the time. I talk as an independent, and I can tell you from the front line: nobody is getting rich here, despite how things seem, because every time you do something creative or meaningful, someone comes along and charges you for it.
You can book studio time with Rooz here.
What did the green pepper say that did a burp?
Padron me