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 Michael Whiner, semi-retired film maker, part-time restaurant critic, full time loud-mouth and the enfant-terrible of the British film industry; chews over the week's events.
This week, Michael pays a visit to iEat, the restaurant owned by achingly-trendy Brit artist Adrian Whushh. Adrian made a name for himself with his controversial piece 'The Crown Jewels', a representation of the Queen's fallopian tubes cast in bronze. Now he has turned his attention to food with iEat, which he describes as "a living art/food spatial fusion with licensed bar and excellent toilet facilities."
As usual, Michael is already in full flow…
"The whole business was entirely regrettable. Naturally it meant I had to keep my head down. Still the dust has settled down now and it does feel good to be back. I'm sure these oysters will be coming back later too. A trifle mature, if you know what I mean. Who the hell decorated this place? The walls have got so many colours on them they look like an explosion in Vivian Westwood's wardrobe. In my opinion, art and food share about as much in common as champagne and Alka-Seltzer.
I see they're about to start shooting the latest James Bond flick. The casting process was a bit torturous wasn't it? Still, I'm sure Daniel Craig will do well. He has that essential look of a bastard about him. He wouldn't have been my immediate choice, mind you. My man has it all. He would have been the ultimate Bond. He's got a cold, ruthless streak. He's used to a high pressure job and he's a lady-killer to boot. And let's face it, it's not like David Blunkett has much else on at the minute is it?
I don't think much to this main course. Irish Stew with Croutons might seem all post-modern but it tastes bloody awful. You might as well sprinkle it with Rice Krispies. Waiter! Another brandy. If I must endure this muck, I will at least have the decency to anaesthetise my taste buds first.
Oh, it's bloody Oscar nominations time again isn't it? I hate the Oscars. I hate them for two reasons. One - all film award ceremonies are an excuse for a bunch of luvvies and arty wankers to try and convince themselves that they are doing a job that has some sort of artistic merit. Secondly, they're organised by Hollywood, a place where the dictionary stops just before the word 'sincerity'. What makes it worse is that this year nearly all the films nominated are supposed to be serious, thought provoking and issue-driven. Which is fine. Until the studio execs look at their balance sheets and realise that all the award-winning, intelligent films didn't make nearly half as much money as the latest brainless Martin Lawrence-starring so-called "comedy". They'll scuttle back to churning out brainless action buddy cop nonsense before you cay say "Bruckheimer". After all, they do have huge houses in the Hollywood hills to support.
I propose a toast! To Tinsel Town. So very, very fickle."
Cheers,
Michael
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