Showing posts with label Basil Creese. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Basil Creese. Show all posts

Friday, 19 April 2019

Full Metal Jacket Diary Audiobook – a review


I spend a lot of time up in the air these days and, as a result, I’ve usually got an audiobook on the go. Alan Partridge’s I, Partridge and Nomad are as exceptional as one would expect. Bruce Robinson’s exhaustive They All Love Jack may well be the definitive investigation of the Jack The Ripper murders and is an absolutely essential listen.

The one audiobook I keep going back to, however, is Full Metal Jacket Diary which is Matthew Modine’s recounting of his time on the titular film directed by Stanley Kubrick. I’ve got a thing for Mr. Kubrick. Firstly his films are meticulously constructed and transcend the film genre. They are works of art.

Secondly, the manner in which Kubrick constructs his movies and his dedication to perfection are the stuff of legend. I recognise some of these blinkered qualities in myself when it comes to music, which is probably why my band now just consists of my brother and me.

A few weeks ago it was Matthew Modine’s birthday. I sent him my best wishes via Twitter and advised that I found his audiobook riveting. He responded by expressing thanks and suggested I write a review. So here goes…

I bought a physical copy of the limited edition, very metal Full Metal Jacket Diary back when it was first released in 2005 (mine is number 09492 of the 20,000 released). As a coffee table book it’s stunning and I often find myself dipping into it. The behind the scenes photos are spectacular as is the glimpse at the celebrated wizard behind the green velvet curtain and the creative process that resulted in “the best war film ever made”.

The difference with the audiobook is that, shorn of the photos it very much becomes a story. A human story. One of warmth and affection for a man we will truly never know, Stanley Kubrick. What surprises you is how collaborative Kubrick was as a filmmaker, regularly asking Mr. Modine and the rest of the cast how the film should end and taking on Modine’s suggestion that there should be a ‘sex’ scene.

The audiobook is so engaging that I recently listened to it three times on the bounce, and then watched Full Metal Jacket twice followed by Paths of Glory and Barry Lyndon. Modine’s friendly narration and the smatterings of a shockingly awful, but strangely endearing, Cock-er-ney accent (imagine a less OTT Dick Van Dyke) make it feel as if he’s leading you by the hand on a journey which unexpectedly becomes an adventure, an at times arduous, soul-sapping adventure.  

If you’re a fan of Kubrick, or even vaguely interested in filmmaking, then this is an essential listen. It charts and delineates Modine’s experience from first hearing about the movie via an awkward conversation with a competitive Val Kilmer to wrapping the film nearly 2 years later. We learn how Kubrick wants him to play the role of Private Joker and the pressures the shoot puts on his friendship with Vincent D’Onofrio.

There are anecdotes aplenty (such as Modine telling jokes about Stanley Kubrick. To Kubrick himself. and having to beg him to be at his wife’s bedside when she’s giving birth) and personal reflections that reveal much about Modine the man and the actor. And Stanley Kubrick.

Because this film consumed his life for an extended period of time we are also party to Modine’s ruminations on love, war, fatherhood and life itself. He was in his early twenties when he was cast so we get a snapshot of a young man placed in extraordinary circumstances. I love that there’s no hindsight employed, no rearview mirror context to wrap things up in a pretty pink bow. Just what it meant to him at the time. Perfect.

In fact it’s so good I’m going to put it on and listen to it again. Again. 
Thank you, Mr. Modine.

Saturday, 22 November 2014

Mark Two: The Pall Bearer's Lament

Sup, y'all? S'been a while...

So, a year ago I began the interview process for the position of Learning and Development Manager at Mark Two Distributors, purveyors of quality Kitchens and Bathrooms. The first interview, with the HR Manager and the Director Of Service Delivery went like a dream, due in no small part to my knowledge and experience; natural charm and easy wit; the use of some outstanding hypnotic language patterns; and how amazing I look in a three piece suit (in addition I've recently taken to wearing a pocket watch with chain. It has been suggested that the next logical step is a monocle. Now, I'm not saying that I'm ruling it out completely, but I'd rather be violated by a chainsaw).

The second interview was conducted once again by the Director Of Service Delivery and, this time, a Team Manager. It went even better than the first. I even managed to drag a Shakespeare quote from my gilded quiver - and it wasn't the one about the painted strumpet's front bottom either. On the way home I popped into ASDA to buy my answer to the question: If you were a drink, what drink would you be? Answer: Grapefruit and Lemonade. Natural, harsh bitterness tempered by a shot of luscious sweetness. I was shouldering my way through the front door as I received the call that I'd got the job.

I was so happy I performed a little jig which was, in essence, a crude facsimile of Michael Flatley's Riverdance. Man, I was pumped! This was an opportunity to shape an organisation's Learning Strategy. Essentially I was being handed a blank canvas which I could adorn with my professional musings on what Learning and Development should look like. Very different from my previous place of employment where I was managed by a failed stand-up comedian who chose to emphasise his comic inadequacy at each and every team gathering: "The dolphin of today's meeting is... No, wait. I mean porpoise. The porpoise of today's meeting is..." I'm not even joking. Neither was he. I mean, he was trying to, but... Whatever.

I strutted into Mark Two on the Monday and immediately regretted not wearing kevlar body armour and a combat helmet. I've compared my first day at Mark Two to the first beach scene in Saving Private Ryan. If I may, gentle reader, I'd like to amend the filmic reference to Tom Cruise's recent Edge Of Tomorrow instead, as the comparable beach landing scene in this movie takes it up a notch - featuring killer aliens who can warp space and time and eviscerate you at will. Sure, it was a blank canvas all right, but it was being held by a Grizzly Bear doing Crystal Meth. On a skateboard. Brandishing a Kalashnikov.

As a family business which had exploded into a multi-million pound turnover almost overnight, there were none of the processes or procedures in place which would ensure consistency. It was a free for all, and not in a George-Clinton-controlled-chaos kind of way, but a Miles-Davis-coked-out-of-his-mind-with-potato-chips-sticking-to-his-face-as-he-wails-away-in-the-key-of-D-minor kind of way. Utterly. Frightening. There was so much to do! My days were long and hard (easy there, Finbar!). I'd often pull twelve hour stints at my desk and when I got home I was  shattered. Drained. I could barely function. I was commissioned to write a screenplay which remains only 13/16ths finished.

I made an immediate impression: 2nd week in I was named Employee Of The Week which came with a VIP parking space (pic above. Astral moisturiser to the extreme left). My first meeting with the MD to relay my initial findings and outline my plan of attack was a little intimidating. He spent the whole of my presentation with his brow furrowed in a manner which was redolent of Mr. Bean trying to forecast the punchline to a joke he had never heard before in a foreign language. Afterwards the Director Of Service Delivery said, "That went really well. He really liked you." I was, like, are you kidding me? 

We moved into lovely new offices on Raikes Lane in January which were situated by the tip and recycling centre. The company's Vision and Values were stylishly graffiti'd by a local artist in black and red on the clean white walls. The concrete struts which jutted out from the walls were painted black and buzzwords such as "Care", "Enjoyment" and "Generous" were graffiti'd on them in white and red. The stench of burning waste was a constant mist seeping slowly into the building, but it was the smell of chips wafting up from the new canteen which truly offended the MD most, and so they were officially removed from the menu - save for a Friday when he wasn't in the office.

The fortunes of Mark Two, seemed to hit an up curve once we moved house. There was the perpetual hum of positivity about the place and the learning interventions, processes and structures I put in place were having a positive effect. I was tasked with bringing some of that gloss, glitter and sparkle to the Managers out in the field and my stock rose even further once I brought the house down at the Summer Conference. A short 6 weeks ago at the Director's Briefing - where the Directors stand before the whole business and give an update on the organisation's progress - I was asked how I thought things were going. I replied that though, ordinarily, I was far too consumed with my own monstrous ego to take an objective view of my surroundings, even I could see that we had come a long way from where we were when I initially joined.

Then, on the 4th of November, the MD announced that Tesco were pulling out of their agreement with Mark Two. Others may have popped on their rose tinted glasses, but I readied my escape pod. I updated my CV, zapped it off, attended an interview two days later and had the second one last Thursday where I had to give a presentation. I start on Monday.

The business officially folded on the 18th of November - a week before payday. There were two weeks of shifting rumour and swirling blame. Games of hangman abounded as we waited to hear what was happening. I spent my time helping colleagues with their CVs, ringing customers to give them updates on where they stood with the installation of their Kitchen or Bathroom and coaching the Customer Service Reps on what to say to seriously disgruntled customers.

There is no positive spin on close to 200 people being made redundant without pay a month before Christmas. It's horrible and I'm sure someone far better qualified than me will untangle the truth and ascertain that the situation could have been handled differently, but it doesn't change the fact that - apart from working on an adult chatline - this was the best job I've ever had with the nicest bunch of people I've ever worked with. That is what I will be taking with me from my time at Mark Two.

Much love to all of the wonderful people I bumped into and worked with. I shall see you on the beach. It's been immense, my gorgeous little ceramic coasters.

Á bientôt

xBx