It's been over two years since we both cried in the Movies (apart from when we saw the price of the hot dogs at Vue) but yesterday's showing of The Artist at FACT in Liverpool had us both reaching for the tissues once again. But this time, instead of being emotionally drained as were when we went to see Pixar's Up in October 2009, Michel Hazanavicius' movie brought tears of joy and delight. When the trailers to this film started cropping up a few months ago I was puzzled; were the cinema really trying to sell us a silent movie in black and white? - Never; not my cup of tea. And yet, as the reviews and the plaudits for the film started to roll in it was clear that that was precisely what we were being sold.
So much has already been written about the film (and I see that I am not even original in my "tears of joy" comment as the film's newspaper advertising carries a similar quote) that it's difficult for me to add to it. Suffice to say, you will find very few films that bring tears of joy but from the opening scene at the Premier of George Valentin's silent action picture in which Jean Dujardin silently shows more about Valetin's character than most actors achieve in an hour on screen, the film simply oozes charm and this viewer was hooked. The film charts the downfall of the silent movie and its stars through the introduction of the talkies. In a world that contains so much unpleasantness - today's news has soldiers urinating on corpses for God's sake - The Artist is a breath of fresh air that is funny, dramatic, happy and sad. It's a love story that's as old as the hills but what's wrong with that? There are strong supporting performances from John Goodman as the movie mogul, James Cromwell as the old retainer and Berenice Bejo as the young film star but it is Dujardin who steals the show and, although initially I thought it was a joke when I heard that he was being suggested for an Oscar, having now seen the film, I would be surprised if anybody else is in the running. If you only see one film this winter, make sure that you see this. And if you don't love it, you've got no heart.
While we were at FACT we had a look at their fascinating Republic Of The Moon exhibition and saw Martin Scorcese's Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore. This was another love story. It had a slightly harder edge than The Artist but was enjoyable and had a great cameo from Jodie Foster before her Taxi Driver fame.
Continuing the day's arty feel we walked a few yards down the road from FACT to have a look at the new artwork that was initially being hailed as Liverpool's new Banksy but is now suggested to be by street artists Mustard Tiger. I'm not sure that Banksy would put his work on a few flimsy plywood panels and no I'm not going to make any snide remarks about it being in Liverpool.
As a change from our usual trip to Salt House Tapas we tried Leaf in Bold St for a late lunch/early dinner. It's our first visit but it won't be our last. Very impressed. Very friendly nice food, good choice, lively atmosphere and I see that they're holding a writer's workshop in a week or two. Would be interested but we'll be in Scotland. May try another time.
It's been a second home to us since we bought the caravan in St Andrews and I hate to think of Scotland breaking away from the United Kingdom and going all independent. I haven't had time to listen to Alex Salmond's arguments in favour of the break. He was on all the screens at the gym last night but I had forgotten my headphones and couldn't hear what he had to say; I entertained myself on the exercise bike playing Words With Friends on the iPhone and watching his face inspired me to SMUG (42 points with a double letter and triple word) - thanks Alex.
The Scots have always had a reputation for being dour and my experience of some Scots (or to be honest one particular Scot) in England backed this up. But perhaps this perceived dourness has been due to their being fish out of water and away from their homeland as, in Scotland, I have never found the people to be anything but cheerful and friendly. I'm not saying that in a patronising way it's just that, even in a big supermarket, you are a hundred times more likely to strike up a conversation with a fellow shopper than you are in England (in Southport at least - unless it's your best friend - and even then you might just nod); and the conversation does not end the minute they hear your English accent.
The other type of Scot, the stereotypical beer swilling, whisky drinking, deep fried Mars bar munching lard arse is certainly not in evidence in St Andrews. Okay so St Andrews in not exactly typical but the same goes for all the towns we've visited including Dundee and the wonderful Edinburgh which, London apart, has to be Britain's most exciting city; I'm pretty sure that he's a figment of some lazy journalist who has never been north of Watford's imagination.
There is certainly a strong sense of pride and national identity in the country and it's good to see the traditions and local costume - long may they continue. I know that we English have got a lot to apologise for but Culloden was almost three hundred years ago now and we've been quite a united kingdom for the last hundred years. I'm not going into all the political or economic arguments about the referendum here. I'm sure that there are strong arguments both for and against but, however eloquently the politicians express them, I very much doubt that the vote will be won on those arguments. I'm sure that it will be won on how much Scotland feels wanted by the rest of the UK. So now and for the next 1,000 days it's time for us English, Welsh and Irish to let the Scottish people know that we really want them to stay.
We're off to one of our film days in Liverpool today. We've got The Artist at 1pm and Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore at 6.30pm at the wonderful FACT in Wood St. Hopefully that will give us plenty of time to have a decent lunch as well and have a look at FACT's Republic Of The Moon exhibition. We can also go and have a look at the latest "Banksy" that appeared the other night just down the road and guess if it's genuine or not - it'll have to be a guess as we won't have a clue.
I'll end with a message to all my Scottish readers from Jimmy Somerville with my favourite vicar the Rev Richard Coles on piano.
