[media=youtube]MgAfsUdQc_A
Dunph would be the man to ask here:thumbsup:
jesus should have left you where you were
Twas alrite but in fairness, born in a cesspit,speak like a cesspit
Stale banter there all the same, yur hearts just not in it these days:popcorn:
Anthony daly talking on clare Fm after the u21 game “we must push on from here”, "this is the beginning of a new era for us " , “we needed this one” . Fair play Dalo ,proud Clare man that he is ,but if i was a Dublin hurling man listening to him ,I`d have a few reservations.
Art lost all heart when the Dunph changed sides.
An understandable reaction.
I’ve PM’d the Dunph enquiring as to how the embed function works.
I got an out-of-office reply that promptly self-destructed.
I don’t think I’m on his christmas card list.
Low v Jay Spaceman
[media=youtube]OaO3CGFPkdo
Tarkovsky v Part
[media=youtube]dweiGyjxhHs
Gotta love Low. Had ‘Murderer’ on repeat throughout 2008.
Gould v Beethoven, 2nd movement, Adagio, Heaven:)
[media=youtube]XttTpZHQgJw
This, being my 1000th post on TFK, is a thank you to TFK itself and all who sail these funny as fook sea’s. Not quite the type of tune you’d expect on a Nightwatchmans thread but fook that!(Im sure SS wont mind:thumbsup:)
TFK
Is minic a bhris bal duine a shrn
[media=youtube]WARtdRKMIWw&feature=related
Patsy Freyne, he does write some very good stuff when the mood takes:
Every serious actor at some point in his career has this conversation with their agent:
“I’ve lined you up for a new drama series. It’s got a great script, it’s got a great director, it’s a very timely state-of-the-nation piece of television and…”
“Stop!” says the hung-over actor, holding his hand up. “Let’s cut through the bullshit, shall we, Dennis?” He looks out from beneath a pair of designer sunglasses. “Will this drama feature a gratuitous shot of my bare arse?”
The agent nods.
“You mean…” gasps the actor.
“Yes Garret. I mean this is a serious drama.”
A gratuitous arse-shot does seem to be shorthand (or should that be shortarse?) for weighty dramatic material these days, and any modern teleplay worth its IFTAs features a pair of muscular buttocks for no good reason, splayed across shot like an attention-seeking cameo from Alfred Hitchcock (or should that be Alfred Hitcharse?). Perhaps they serve as a cheeky quality mark the crack through which the light gets in, if you will.
In this regard, Pure Mule The Last Weekend establishes its quality dramatic credentials within the first 10 minutes, when local heart-throb and small town hero Scobie (Garret Lombard), emerges from the shower and towels himself off before a night out. “There’s the arse,” I think, and prepare to write a good review. To be fair, Pure Mule also has some of the other tell-tale signs of good drama great actors, an intelligent and evocative script and a well-drawn sense of time and place.
Time has taken its toll on the fictional midlands town at the heart of Eugene O’Brien’s and Declan Reck’s original 2006 mini-series. The ‘r’ word is never used, but shop fronts are boarded up and many of the characters are unemployed or underemployed. It’s a strange yet familiar place. The bicycles don’t go by in twos and threes instead souped-up hatchbacks zoom past. And the comely maidens don’t dance at crossroads but at illegal parties in abandoned ghost estates.
In the middle of all this, Scobie is struggling with being a grown-up. He’s a big fish in a small pond, but it’s a spawning ground increasingly encroached upon by younger sea-creatures; he’s also involved in a convenient, passionless and manipulative relationship with a local single mother; his mother’s boyfriend has moved into the family home and Scobie is beginning to look like an oversized chick in their midst.
In response he’s half-heartedly leaving for work in Australia and this two part series charts his ‘last weekend’ in the town. Meanwhile, Jen (Charlene McKenna) has returned from England for her mother’s funeral, only to find the old homestead sapping her of strength and luring her into old ways (“this isn’t who I am anymore, I swear,” she pleads, “it’s this Jaysus town!”). She fights with her saintly sister, has a car-crash of an encounter with ex-friend Geraldine (Simone Kirby), and tests the patience of her supportive English boyfriend. Then over the two episodes Jennifer and Scobie are drawn self-destructively together, and it’s hard to know whether to root for them or hope they’ll just cop on.
So as a tight piece of drama, it works very well. O’Brien could have attempted to write a story explicitly about economic meltdown, but thankfully he’s written a lovesong about small town inertia, with the recession mainly featuring as an incidental backdrop. While it, unsurprisingly, lacks the freshness of the original, it’s a convincing portrait of a native Jack-the-lad and Jill-the-lass struggling to survive in an endangered habitat.
The Lost Land of the Volcano also examines the inhabitants of a threatened eco-system. This one is in a rainforest in Mount Bosavi, an extinct volcano in New Guinea, which loggers are slowly destroying and which eco-scientists are struggling to catalogue and save. Essentially the BBC is following and filming a serious scientific exhibition, and if there’s a problem with this series, it’s that there are so many experts tracking so many species that it’s hard to follow what’s going on. The action moves from Dr George McGavin who’s collecting stick insects, to Alanna Maltby who’s discovered a new species of bat, to shirtless snake-handling adventurer Steve Blackshall climbing for days within a water filled cave, to wildlife cameraman Gordon Buchanan waxing lyrical about pygmy parrots (“I know you shouldn’t say that animals are adorable in the wild,” he says, “but these are adorable!”).
The Lost Land of the Volcano is really four or five competing nature programmes all set in Mount Bosavi. Which could mean, of course, that it will eventually unravel into a really great super-nature programme, but right now, for all its charm, it seems very cluttered, and is crying out for just one scientific voice to guide it. Thus far Gordon Buchanan is my favourite, because after sighting the teeny-weeny parrot, he says in a deadpan voice: “I guarantee you that somewhere in this forest there’ll be a tiny little pirate… because that’s the way nature works.”
The truth is, of course, that nature is red of tooth and claw. And in no telly habitat is this clearer than on The Afternoon Show which, if tabloid rumours are anything to go by, was characterised by a Darwinian struggle for survival among certain presenters, and where they now seem to respond to the loss of one of their own with callous indifference.
Indeed, “Whither Blathonc?” I cried when it returned to my screen this week. But nobody answered. Where was that sense of omnipresent threat that she brought to my screen? Blathnaid ni Chofaigh did have a weird (very weird) appeal. She seemed nice enough in a passive-aggressive primary schoolteacher sort of way (with a ready smile which never quite reached her eyes), but you just knew not to turn your back on the TV when she was on, lest she reach through the screen and brain you. But whatever her faults, the feisty flame-haired dame of Montrose has disappeared into the ether to be replaced by… Sile Seoige!
Jesus. Not again.
Haven’t we been here before? A presenter disappears without comment and suddenly a comely brunette gaelgoir is doing their job? First there was Joe O’Shea (formerly of Seoige and O’Shea with Sile’s sister Grainne) and now Blathonc? Can’t anyone else see what’s happening here? I know she’s got an easy way with the camera and when it comes to effortless afternoon waffle about mince and swine flu and effective deodorant use, there’s no better woman, but seriously is everyone else blind to this sinister pattern? What happened to Joe and Blathonc?
Are you all in on it? Or… maybe the room is bugged… (Is the room bugged? Wink twice if the room is bugged.)
(Whispering) Okay, just promise me this: if I disappear from the by-line of this television review to be suddenly and mysteriously replaced by a Seoige sister, please, please, please undertake some sort of investigation.
Now, that I’ve said my piece, I must go, for there is a knock on my door and I hear peals of delightful laughter. (A door opens). “No! Not you and your lovely hair and smile!” (The journalist lets out a muffled cry and there is the sound of a struggle).
I’d forgotten how good Platoon is.
(cheers to Lazarus for refreshing my memory)
[media=youtube]RRMz8fKkG2g
[quote=“treaty_exile”]I’d forgotten how good Platoon is.
(cheers to Lazarus for refreshing my memory)
YouTube - Samuel Barber - Adagio for Strings, op.11[/quote]
tiestos version is better. :mad:
Runt! You cant post in the nightwatchmens thread out of hours!!
EDIT
Bollocks now you’ve made me do it too!
this is a great scene[media=youtube]k9EtS_qwiSw
Thats class, OTT to be sure but so are all the greatest death scenes. This be one of my favourites. Introducing ‘Les Delibes’ after Hopper asks for the Chesterfield was an early indication of genius on Quentins part
[media=youtube]tmn0DWDqZ6w