Ode to San Fran

This Life column from last Friday's Day and Night magazine in the Irish Independent.

Right now, I'm moaning to anyone who'll listen to me that I just want a week lying on a beach in the sun. I don't want to see anything, learn anything or talk to anyone. I just want to lie there, baking and turning intermittently like a rotisserie chicken.


But I know that's just the stressed-out, washed-out side of me talking. I think anymore that I'd just go mad after a few hours of doing nothing. Maybe it's the nature of my job, or, more likely, that I'm just an atrocious time-keeper, but my free time has become very precious to me of late.
It's almost gotten to the point where I can't decide on anything to do because I feel I should be maximising every last second of my time off on something that really matters to me. That mentality has inevitably seeped into the way I approach holidays too.


So earlier this year, four of us decided to hit the States for a round trip to Vegas, LA and San Francisco. It was an amazing experience: cultured (kinda), mature (sorta) and sober (not at all). But for me, the last part of the trip was more than just a holiday. It was more like a big gift wrapped in a giant rainbow-coloured bow had been handed to the little inner Declan (not him again!) who had dreamed of visiting the City by the Bay for as long as he could remember.


One of my all time favourite books, Tales of the City (Armistead Maupin's 78% gay ode to San Fran) opens with the following line: "Mary Ann Singleton was twenty-five years old when she saw San Francisco for the first time."


I was also twenty-five years old when I saw San Francisco for the first time, and while I'm not a woman named Mary Ann (not anymore, anyway), I was a singleton when I got there. So I took it that the connections between me, the book that I've loved for years, and the city that I've always wanted to visit were all mystically aligning themselves. Not bad going for a holiday.

I loved every second in the place, and if holidays are supposed to rejuvenate you, a holiday that's also the fulfilment of a youthful fantasy is the energising equivalent of pouring a bag of Skittles into a bottle of Coke, shaking it and downing it one.


People love San Francisco for all sorts of reasons, but for me, like so many other gay men, The City is like the mothership. It's a city where a quarter of the population are gay, and probably the only place on earth where straight folk are a minority - spiritually, if not statistically.


What's more, the images of the city are intricately linked in my mind to the TV adaptation of Tales of the City, which I saw when I was 15 or 16, and of trying to sneakily watch it, with my hand on the remote, ready to flick over to the Oireachtas Report the second anyone came into the room, lest they rumble what you were watching and perhaps figure it – and you - all out.
Of course, the content of that show is harmless beyond belief by today's standards, but when you're young and have found something that makes a little more sense of your life for the first time, that can take you on its own kind of holiday, the likes of which you've never experienced.


So walking those streets, visiting those landmarks, throwing myself into that city's indescribable essence – that did for me what no seven days attempting to get a farmer tan on a packed beach could ever hope to do. I’d recommend that everyone ask their own ‘inner Declan’ where they want to go next year.

A Moving Experience

This Life column from Day and Night magazine in last Friday's irish Independent (17 August)

I don’t know about you, but I love nothing more than having a gnawing knot of despair lodged in the pit of my stomach, a fountain of sleepless nights and involuntary weight loss that shoots stress right up through the whole of your body like Old Faithful. If all that really gets your motor running, then moving house is just the thing for you.

Of course, the term ‘moving house’ is somewhat misleading. That would imply that there’s a house to move to. No, what I’m talking about is house-hunting, the most dispiriting, soul-crushing, heart-breaking experience that ever the invention of man contrived.

It has taken over every waking minute of my day. I’ve become a property zombie, barely registering anything in my brain that’s not to do with ‘all mod cons’ or ‘full fittings’. In fact, I might not even be entirely conscious writing this so you’ll forgive me if… viewing is highly recommended.

But, as anyone who is renting in the capital will tell you, an extra layer of misery has been piled onto the whole experience. If you weren’t aware before, you should know that rent in Dublin has shot through the roof, owing (so we’re led to believe anyway) to the fact that nobody is buying due to mortgage rate increases and uncertainty over the status of stamp duty.

I don’t care about any of those reasons. What I do know having viewed a lot of these places with their shiny new rent increases is that, while the price of them may have gone up, the quality most certainly has stayed static. Right now you could take any old grothole and charge basically whatever you want for it, and someone, somewhere will have to pay it.

I’ve seen places without an actual fridge, bedrooms without windows and, my personal favourite, the “double room” that was really just a converted alcove above the kitchen, accessed by a ladder stairs. Seriously, it was like a hammock hung over the oven, and all for the bargain basement price of E750 a month. I’m not making that up – you couldn’t make it up.

Then there was the place that ticked all the boxes: great location, in our budget, the right number of rooms. But upon viewing, we were told that instead of being a 2 bed with parking as the ad clearly stated, it was actually a 1 bed with no parking. Simple mistake to make I guess, but this is what you’re up against.

But, without doubt, the worst aspect of the wretched smorgasbord of horror that is house hunting is the waiting. Sitting around the phone, waiting for that person who could change your life to call you back with those three magic words: “It’s all yours”.

And when this doesn’t happen, you’re plunged into the pit of depression and naturally start blaming yourself. “Why didn’t he call?” you wail. “I thought this was the one” you cry, until a smart, supportive friend pulls you aside and firmly tells you, “He just wasn’t that into you.”

So I guess you have to approach house hunting in the same way you do love. As I have stressed on these pages ad nauseam in the past, you have to stop looking, and not want the things you want in order to meet someone decent (that theory is still being scientifically tested).
I have been very needy with the landlords and letting agents I’ve spoken to over the last fortnight. Nobody is attracted to a Desperate Dan or a Needy Nora. It’s time to be mysterious, aloof, beguiling – just like I am when it comes to romance…

Lord, I really am going to end up on the streets.

You're So Vain

'This Life' column from the newly-designed Day and Night magazine in last Friday's Irish Independent(August 10)

Like all people who claim that they don't care about such trivial matters as their appearance or how they look, I really care a lot about important matters like my appearance and how I look. Of course, I would never have admitted that until very recently, when the full extent of my own preening vanity was laid bare for the neurotic freakshow that it is.


You might have noticed that there are new byline pictures on this page, which meant that new byline pictures actually had to be taken.The problem is I genuinely hate posing for photos. Years and years ofdisappointing and, frankly, disturbing snaps of myself have wiped out any scintilla of joy about the picture-taking process. I've even had friends return digital cameras thinking they were faulty after they saw how the pictures featuring me turned out.


So needless to say I had to pull out all the stops for OperationByline, seeing how I wasn't going to be able to avoid the pic for awhile. Afterall, my professional credibility was on the line here.
I should note at this point that every shallow and Bree Van DerKamp-esque thing you read from this point on, sadly, tragically, is in fact, true.


The first step was tackling the thick birds' nest that I call my hair.I went to get it cut three days before the shoot, so that if, by chance, there was some kind of catastrophic follicle folly, I would at least have a few days to engineer a back-up plan. Thankfully, it turned out ok, but only after 45 minutes of politely grimacing as thebarber made small talk, all while I silently screamed, 'Stop talking!Concentrate so that I don't end up with a cut like a GI from the1950s!'


Next up was carefully planning the shaving routine. I normally shave every 2-3 days, but if there's something involving a high degree ofself-consciousness on the horizon, then timing becomes even more crucial. If you shave the morning of the event, you end up looking like a man-child with chicken pox. So it had to be the night before, but early the night before, or else you're limiting the recovery time (have a headache yet?). Luckily, my skin's typical response to shaving – which is akin to an Agent Orange attack – was absent. I was in the home stretch.


Oddly enough, the outfit was the easiest part. I just kept it simple, like myself. My over-riding concern in this department was - how should I put this delicately - controlling my over-active glands in the arm pit area. Yes, it's been a long, sweaty summer (in name only of course), blighted by more than one snap of me sporting Lough Corrib under both arms.


Coming up with a plan to tackle this dilemma was when I really acknowledged just how vain I was. I wore one shirt on the journey down to the hotel for the photoshoot, knowing well the sticky state I'd bein by the time I got there. I brought two other shirts with me, and quickly changed in the hotel loo. But alas, my healthy glands beganworking their magic while I was waiting for the shoot to begin, necessitating another shirt change. Then I changed my mind a few minutes later, and changed back again, at which point the photographer, bless him, got some hotel staff to physically restrain me from any more costume changes.


I tell you, it was exhausting. But ever since that whole rigmarole, I've had a classic saying of my father's ringing in my head, a pithy piece of wisdom from a generation who wash with an old wire brush and shave with a sharp piece of roof slating: "After all that preening, you'd think you'd be good-looking at the end of it". Touché father, touché.

A Little Sumthing

From Day and Night magazine in today's Irish Independent

I hate maths - probably more than anything on earth. All through school it was the bane of my existence. I had the same maths teacher for my whole time there, and Lord, if I didn’t age the man prematurely. I can still see the look of despair on his face as he tried to drum what a cosine was into my innumerate skull.


But what got me through it was knowing that once I left school, maths would cease to have any impact on my life, apart from basic addition and subtraction (which I can just about pull off).


But new research from one Dr Clio Cresswell has blown that assumption right out of the algebra-free water. Cresswell is a numerical sexpert – surely a first – who claims that there are very deep connections between love, sex and mathematics.


She maintains that maths formulas can be used to detect patterns in our love lives, and so can be used to guide the search for our perfect partner (Up until now, the only way maths infringed in that area of my life was when I tried to pose in clubs from my most a-cute angles).


So for instance, Dr Cresswell argues that you should make a list of all the things you’re looking for in someone and test them on 12 consecutive lovers - and reject them all. You then pick the best one that comes after that – a formula which, apparently, guarantees a 75 per cent chance of happiness.


Pure hokum? Maybe. But it would make sense in the context of my love life. I barely scraped through ordinary level maths in the Leaving, ergo I’m destined to scrape through an ordinary level love life. And there I was wasting my time on English and History!


So maybe I should buck up now, and put in the hard work I should have done in secondary school in order to change my dysfunctional relationship with maths. With a little help from my unsurprisingly non-dog-eared copy of Less Stress More Success, I’ll soon be an A1 love student, right?


I wouldn’t count on it.

Manny from Heaven

From Day and Night magazine in the Irish Independent, July 20

You might have gauged in recent weeks that my love life has experienced somewhat of a downturn – a crash, some might say. Seeing how my romance budgeting has proven to be somewhat sloppy, I am seriously considering outsourcing the running of my love life to someone else in order to restore my competitiveness on the market.


Think about it. People hire professionals such as personal stylists and life coaches all the time to help them make decisions about things that they can't, won't or shouldn't do for themselves.

My plan would be to take one of my closest friends – one who knows me inside and out – and appoint him as a Love Czar to take over my dealings with the unfair sex (i.e. men). The role would essentially involve nannying me from men – a Manny, if you will.


So, for instance, if someone wishes to chat me up — and vice versa — it would have to get through my Manny's strict vetting process first. If that happens to be successful, any future correspondence with said romantic target - texts, emails and calls - would be relayed through the Manny.


Tolerance of bad boy behaviour or signs that you’re not being treated like a gentleman would be flagged early on and your Manny could stage an intervention to extricate you from the dangerous situation, and all with minimum impact on your precious self-respect and humanity.


Arguably where the Manny would be most useful is in dealing with exes. This especially slippery group will have extra ability to get under your skin and wiggle their way back into your affections, even though you should know better. Your Manny will intercept these overtures, battle them at the coalface and drum it into you why these people are exes in the first place.


You might laugh, but need I remind you of the alternative? Do you really want to be dealing with this crap for the rest of your life? My romance capital is low due to a series of bad investments. Until I build back up the finances, I see no harm in letting a prudent head save me from myself for a while.

Moliere the merrier

Review from Day and Night magazine in today's Irish Independent

The French comedy Moliere is a post-modern take on the formative years of the legendary Gallic satirist and author of such canonical works like The Misanthrope and Tartuffe. The action of this jaunty confection of a movie focuses on a short spell in the writer's life when he mysteriously disappeared for a number of months and imagines him in a scenario where he essentially becomes a character in the type of farce he later became famous for.


Moliere opens in Paris in 1644, where the 22-year-old actor Jean-Baptiste Poquelin (Romain Duris) – also known as Moliere – is struggling to keep his Illustrious Theatre Troupe out of the red. His problems with various creditors see him imprisoned and released on a regular basis, until, after finally being cleared by his jailors, Moliere disappears for several months.

Real-life historians have been unable to account for the writer’s activities in those missing months, and this is where Moliere unashamedly lets creative licence runs wild. The movie supposes that the broke actor came under the debt of wealthy aristocrat Jourdain (Fabrice Luchini), who wanted the young thespian to teach him how to act in order to win over a potential mistress. If his teachings bear result, Jourdain tells Moliere he will pay off his debts.

Jourdain installs Moliere in his stately home disguised as a private tutor named Monsieur Tartuffe. Once there, however, Moliere becomes embroiled in a series of comedic schemes involving all manner of cartoonish and duplicitous characters that would later form the plots of his famous works. At the same time, he also begins a passionate affair with Jourdain’s opinionated wife Elmire (Laura Morante), a romance that’s doomed to end sadly for all.

Director Laurent Tirard brings an assured hand to Moliere, borrowing heavily from the successful in-joke formula patented by the multi-Oscar winning Shakepeare in Love. However, Moliere lacks that movie’s accessibility, mainly down to the esoteric nature of Moliere’s life and work, making this a tougher sell to non-French audiences.

Nevertheless there is still a lot to enjoy in Moliere, notably the strong lead performance from Duris, who made a striking debut in last year’s quirky festival hit Dans Paris. Moliere also successfully milks the narrative’s many farcical misunderstandings for all they’re worth, as well as landing some good digs at the pompous hypocrisy of the social, sexual and class divisions of the time.

Moliere might not be the back-up option if Die Hard 4.0 is sold out on the night, but it’s worth a look nonetheless. Rating: 3/5

Old Farts

From Day and Night magazine in today's Irish Independent

You might remember a few weeks ago I mentioned that I had just turned 26 and I was kind of, er, troubled about the prospect of getting older. I was defiant that I was going to be the same young buck in my late twenties as I was before, despite slagging from friends that I was now 'middle-aged, free, single and gay'.

However, it pains me to report that age might very well be catching up with me. The night of my actual birthday, I found myself in a club in silent agony because of the pain coursing through my body (I might even have moaned about having to stand and the loud music).

You see, I was still a bit fragile from the festivities of the night before, plus I had a cold. None of which would have stopped me in the past, but this is what the advancing years do to a body I guess.

Thankfully, one of my best friends, who was staying with me that night and is of a similar vintage, was equally decrepit. One hangover and a few sniffles were enough to fell both of us. We carried our tired, creaky frames home at 2am.

When we got to my place, I made us wait up a few minutes while the electric blanket warmed the bed for us old fogies (I don't have a spare bed and he's too fussy for the couch). Slowly we began the painful process of getting into bed, all the while our old bodies creaking like the Tin Man before he found his oil can. Once we were settled in bed, I dispensed out our potentially dangerous cocktail of flu-fighting pills to take, nagging him to take his medicine now or he'll pay for it tomorrow.

We then lay there lamenting our aching carcasses, but more so our youth, which was clearly now far behind us. That was how I spent my first few hours as a 26-year-old. The signs for my planned late-twenties renaissance of youthful vigour are not good, are they?

From yesterday's Day and Night magazine in Irish Independent

It's impossible to know how to behave in the first few weeks you're seeing someone, isn't it? You have to be interested, but not needy; available, but not clingy. You have to open yourself up, yet retain some mystery. You must spend time together, but not compromise the other's independence.

The whole Game is just one giant head-wreck and, as I was reminded recently, I still apparently haven't mastered the rules yet. It's not all my fault of course, but I can't help thinking that I made the most rookie mistakes yet again. This is after spending years telling myself I would learn from the bitterly-acquired experience of every failed romance just how to do it right the next time.

But with nearly every new man-venture, I seem to be living the reincarnation of every previous courtship for the good, and, especially the bad. Old wine in a new bottle, if you will (and some guys would drive you to the bottle).

Yes, I'm in a bitter phase right now, but my best friend reassures me that it's all about kissing frogs to find a prince. Yet it seems to me that more and more frogs are slipping through the vetting process, and it's becoming harder and harder to distinguish between man-phibian and royalty.

I tell you, it's enough to make a man cynical. But something tells me that's not going to help matters. Sarky eye-rollling, pithy asides and a suspicious response to all nice gestures will expedite the end of a potential relationship just as quick as jumping into it all too soon will.

The solution is obviously some half-way point between the two mindsets: healthily-cynical kinda-availability with a non-man-phibian. I'm still figuring it out, and, burned as I am at the moment, I'll hopefully gain a little more temporary wisdom before I inevitably make the same mistakes all over again.

Golden Door review from yesterday's Day and Night magazine in the Irish Independent

Golden Door (Nuovo Mondo)

Golden Door opens in Sicily in 1904 where peasant Salvatore (VincenzoAmato) decides to sell everything he owns to move his sons and hisold, superstitous mother to America. Propelled on by visions of gigantic food crops and coins falling fromthe skies, Salvatore and his family make the arduous sea journey on anemigrant ship to the US.

During the sailing, he falls for a mysteriousEnglish passenger (Charlotte Gainsbourg), whom he arranges to marry.But leaving the Old World behind — literally and figuratively — proves to be much harder than he thought.

Director Emanuele Crialese certainly has an ambitious, sweeping visionfor this magic-realist tale, but its fallow characterisation, and inert middle section, robs the film of any real emotional punch. Golden Door is most affective in the final section where it depicts the admission procedures the immigrants meet at Ellis Island, but the rest of the movie, like the characters' sea journey, is a long and uneven ride to that point.

Rating 3/5

Family Man

From Day and Night magazine in last Friday's Irish Independent

Antonio Banderas is suffering from serious jet lag - not that you'd be able to tell from the level of energy he invests in his interviews to promote Shrek the Third. "This junket isn't so bad because we don't have to defend the product," he says. "Sometimes on these things a journalist will say something harsh about the movie and you think, 'He's absolutely right', but you can't say that because your producer is right there!"

I'm talking to Banderas in the Dorchester hotel in London, where he has just flown into from LA the night before. The Spanish star is taking part in a frantic European promotional tour for the threequel to the mega-successful, pop culture behemoth Shrek (the first two movies have grossed $1.4 billion and sold 90 million DVDs, while Shrek the Third earned $122.5m in its opening weekend in the US).

Banderas reprises his role as the Casanova-esque feline side-kick Puss in Boots, a role that Banderas says he was more than happy to return to.
"I love him. He's kind of dangerous," Banderas says. " He's very irreverent, which is weird for a kids movie, but we're very careful about how far we can go with the character. You don't want to mess up the kids! He's a Casanova, a Don Juan in the body of a pussy cat which is absurd, but because it's absurd, it's funny. I think that contrast between what he is physically and what he is in his mind is a constant source of comedy."

In Shrek the Third, the green ogre (voiced by Mike Myers) and Princess Fiona (Cameron Diaz) are reluctantly thrust into the roles of stand-in King and Queen of Far Far Away when King Harold (John Cleese) suddenly (or not, as you will see in the movie) croaks. Proving to be a disastrous and clumsy monarch, Shrek decides to shake off the role by finding the only other heir, the King's teenage nephew Arthur (voiced by Justin Timberlake). While Fiona and her scene-stealing Princess buddies try to foil a coup d'etat by the dastardly Prince Charming (Rupert Everett), Shrek sets off to Artie's boarding school to bring the nerdy teen back to be King, accompanied by his loyal companions Donkey (Eddie Murphy) and Puss.

Banderas relished the chance to develop Puss' character and to deepen his pivotal (and hilarious) relationship with Donkey. "In Shrek 2 we had to introduce the character because he came into the movie to break the group," he explains. "Little by little, the concept of Puss fell into place. Initially, he wasn't to be a recurring character, but he connected very well with audiences and here we are.

"I think he's such a good pairing with Donkey, because, at heart, they are both so lonely. They are sole characters. They don't have anyone around so they have to fight for and conquer Shrek as their only friend."

Indeed, such is the popularity of Puss that a movie spin-off for the seductive kitty is in the works. "It seems it's going to happen," Banderas reveals. " We have the script, but I haven't had a chance to read it yet. What I've heard is that it will tell his story from his time when he was little until the time he, probably, becomes a noble killer. It will be fun and will bring more colour to the whole story." Banderas will also reprise his voicing duties in a half-hour TV special called Shrek the Halls, and, of course, Shrek 4, which has just been greenlit by producer Jeffrey Katzenberg.

It can be easy to forget just how long this ineffably handsome and charming actor has been knocking around in this business. Today, he looks deceptively younger than his 46 years, with the only signs of ageing being a few greying chest hairs spurting out of his opened blue shirt. Banderas was born in Malaga in Spain, and moved to Madrid at age 19 to pursue acting. He soon became a huge star at home by making five movies with acclaimed auteur Pedro Almodovar over an eight year period.

Banderas arrived in America in 1990 without a word of English, but slowly built up an impressive resume of work in The Mambo Kings, Philadelphia and Interview with the Vampire. Banderas continued to play a wide range of roles, from the sweaty action of Desperado and Once Upon a Time in Mexico, to acting and singing Madonna clear off the screen in Evita. Banderas' star rose higher with his roles in the Spy Kids franchise, The Mask of Zorro and its sequel, and a highly successful stint on Broadway with the musical Nine.

Despite his status as a Latin sex god, Banderas is very much a family man. He has one of Hollywood's most surprisingly stable marriages to husky actress Melanie Griffith (since 1996) and is a devoted father to two children. Indeed, the over-riding theme of Shrek the Third is fatherhood, and, in particular, Shrek's terror at becoming a dad. Was that how Banderas felt when his own daughter Stella came into the world?

"No it was the opposite," he replies. "I was so happy for the whole nine months. I was just waiting, waiting, waiting for my baby. So the night of the birth was one of the most beautiful nights of my life. Just being there to recognise parts of her that are mine, like 'Oh my god, she has the same hands as me'. It was magic. I even remember the exact time she was born, 9.18pm."

As in the other Shrek movies, the lesson imparted in the third instalment is that beauty is on the inside and that we must all accept who we are. It's a philosophy that Banderas is eager to instil in his children.

"I want my children to be free, independent and to have an opinion about things," he explains. "I don't want them to be manipulated. We're living in very confusing and violent times, and I worry more because I have two girls. My step-daughter is now 17, and she's having a hormones festival.

"My 10-year-old Stella is a straight A student, and I don't where she got that because I wasn't like that, or her mother either! In But she gets very upset when she gets a B+ and I have to tell her, 'Hey, failing is fine'.

"I'm afraid sometimes that she thinks the world is ruled by the same perfectionist spirit that she puts onto herself and I don't want her to live life that way. So as a father I seem to go in the opposite direction of most dads. I say, 'You don't have to study so much!'
"I just want them to be strong. I don't want them to find people like Puss!"
What would you do if one of your daughters came home with someone like Puss? Banderas breaks into laughter. "Oh I'd put on my Zorro suit and sort him out," he replies.

Banderas is equally passionate when it comes to discussing his marriage and how he makes it work. "Melanie and I love each other – it's really that simple," he says. "Both of us came from failed relationships and we both learned from that.

"And she's an expert on Hollywood. She was born there, her mother [The Birds star Tippi Hedron] is also an actress and Melanie paid a price for that. She paid for the divorce of her parents. One was in New York, the other in LA so she was like a little package between both worlds.

"When we met each other, we fell in love and we just went for it. I know that people didn't give a penny for our relationship. I remember reading the papers, thinking, 'Wow these people know more about us than we do ourselves'. People actually betted that we wouldn't last three months." He smiles slyly. "I should have taken those bets. I'd be a millionaire now!"

Attitudes in Hollywood towards international stars have also defied expectations in recent years. More and more non-English speaking actors –particularly Hispanic ones - are triumphing in Hollywood, as evidenced in the 19 nominations for polyglots at this year's Oscars. Banderas welcomes that cultural shift, but also sees that change as being somewhat inevitable.

"It wasn't like that when I started out," he states. "I remember shooting The Mambo Kings, and the other Hispanic actors saying to me, 'If you're going to stay in this market, you're going to play delinquents, narcotics traffickers and bad guys. There's no space for us to just play normal characters and heroes and stuff like that'.

"People say, 'Antonio B anderas opened the door for us', but I think that change is due to many different factors, not only from the art world, but also social and political influences. The Spanish community in LA come from countries with a lot of injustices, lots of poverty, hunger, you name it. They work very hard to put their kids in university and all their kids, the second and third generation, have come out and now they can occupy any position in American social life.

"That's very different even from when I arrived there. There's more acceptance of the Spanish community in America, and I just happened to get there at a time when the wheels started to turn in a different direction. It was good for me because I got a lot of roles that were meant for someone else. For instance, Zorro was offered to Tom Cruise before me."

Right now, Banderas is very happy with his lot in life. He has set up his own production company specifically to make film projects in his native Spain and to provide the kind of support and encouragement to young filmmakers that wasn't there when he was starting out. He's also comfortable enough in his career to not follow the safe, easy track.

"I don't worry about box office anymore," he says. "I'm absolutely sincere when I say this: my life is financed. I invest my money. I have more than enough for me and my family, and my kids when I die. So now I'm looking for projects and roles I can chew on.

"I'm very much considering going back to Broadway next [in a musical production of Don Juan de Marco]. I think the best time I had in America was not in front of a camera, but on the stage on that theatre on 49 th Street with Nine. I had a blast for 138 performances and it was just so beautiful to find the material I was looking for in movies, on the stage.

"Theatre is the source of where I am as an actor, it's where I started. But I abandoned the stage for 16 years because I got so caught up in movies and Hollywood.

"And it's risky. Broadway is a merciless place. But it's exciting. If you don't do things you're afraid of, then what's left? You'll be immobile. That's not me. My whole life, I've taken risky decisions and I have to respond to those expectations of myself."

However, Banderas also recognises that he can't work at the same level that he's been operating at up until now. He's content to shun Hollywood glitz and glamour to spend time at home, but also to move away from action roles for material that reflects and acknowledges how comfortable he now is in his own skin.

"It is an age thing, mostly," he tells me, as we get up to leave. "Melanie is 50 this summer and I am heading towards 50 too. We're on the same path. There are certain things that your body asks at certain times and you can't ignore that." He pauses, and then delivers his best feline smile again. "I wasn't always like that. In the '80s, I was very wild. I was much more like Puss in Boots."

Declan Cashin, 2007





-- http://lowlyjourno.blogspot.com/

Birthday Boy

From Day and Night magazine in last Friday's Irish Independent

By the time you see this dear reader, I shall be another year older and wiser (Well, I'll be older anyway). Of course, any self-respecting gentleman would never reveal his age, which I think more than qualifies me to tell you that I will have turned 26 years young.



As of writing, I have no plans for the event, though its general timing does conveniently coincide with this year's Gay Pride parade. The two have blended into the one potent cocktail — literally and figuratively — in the past so I assume this year will be no different.



I'm weird about birthdays though, espcially this year. The trend over the last few years has been that my odd-aged ones have tended to rock (my 19th, 21st, and 25th were great), whereas the even ones, as Bart Simpson would say, managed to both suck and blow (J'accuse 20th and 22nd!). So even the birthday gods deem that I'm happiest when I'm odd!





My main beef with the birthday this year is this however: I just don't like that I won't even be considered an 'early twenty-something' anymore. In fact, it seems to me that the ages of 26-29 simply cease to exist by themselves once you enter that age bracket.





I'm discovering that everyone just rounds up those ages to 30. "26 you say? Sure you're practically 30 now". Geez, I know we live in an accelerated culture, but could you please give me a chance? I have a whole set of objectives and goals that I intend to have met by the time I reach 30. I'm not going to be robbed of those crucial years.





So for that reason, I think it's time for everyone in this age group to reclaim the Lost Four Years by politely slapping anyone who dares round up from now on. They have to learn.





Sure, people might get mad (friends, relatives, judges). But you can use your newly liberated latter twenties to atone for it, so by the time you actually turn 30, you'll be a fully functional, contented grown up. See, I've got it all figured out.Just leave my four years alone and we'll all get along fine.

Local Heroes

From last Friday's Day and Night magazine in the Irish Independent (22/6/2007)

When rising Irish director Graham Cantwell was starting out in the job, he was told something that speak volumes about making a living from the film industry in Ireland.

"I remember someone telling me when I was starting off, 'You're neither rich enough nor poor enough to be a filmmaker'," he recalls. "By that, they meant rich enoughto have the support to keep you going and poor enough to be used to livingoff nothing! It takes perseverance alright."

It takes extra perseverance when you have to film in the soon-to-be demolished Clancy Barracks on Dublin's northside on a cold early morning. Cantwell is speaking to me from the location shoot of a new low-budget Irish movie he's directing called Anton, a thriller based in the border counties in the 1970s and set against the backdrop of the Troubles in Northern Ireland.
The title character Anton (played by Anthony Fox, who also wrote the screenplay) is a young man who grows disillusioned with his dead-end life in Cavan and gets swept up in the resurgent terror campaign of the IRA. But as he and his friend Brendan (Andy Smith) become ever more immersed in the violence, Anton loses his faith in the cause, and looks for a way out, little realising that his family and friends have been dragged into the chaos also.

The dilapidated barracks in which the shoot is taking place is soon to be transformed into a swanky urban village, but for today, it's serving as a 1970s Parisian bedsit. It requires a good deal of innovation and imagination to effect such a transformation, but those are the qualities that Ireland's young filmmakers have in spades. What they don't have, as I discover on the day I visit the set, is funding and support.

The scene being shot is the morning after a drink and drug fuelled session in the apartment. Four actors are getting their make-up done, quickly changing into costumes to avoid developing hypothermia, and getting into a variety of sleeping positions. It's a slow, painstaking process, where the inconvenient and rebellious daylight outside the window threatens to delay the whole shoot.

Graham Cantwell is in a good position to express opinions on the Irish film industry, having worked as an actor, director and producer for the past 10 years. His short film *A Dublin Story *was shortlisted for an Oscar in 2004 and won the Kodak Tiernan McBride award at the Galway Film Fleadh.

"For filmmakers in Ireland there are two separate entities: the Irish Film Industry and the film industry in Ireland, which is foreign companies coming in," the articulate 30-year-old says. "The two really depend on each other. We need the larger American or English productions like *Becoming Jane* or *King Arthur* coming across to support the indigenous film industry because there isn't a hell of a lot of support for very low-budget Irish filmmaking."

He continues: "Film-making is tight everywhere, but the difference between us and England, say, is that they have a huge television industry and that supports people. It's not perfect, but it's easier for crews to get work, as there's so many regional bodies through BBC and Channel 4. Over here, we only have RTE and the Irish Film Board, who have very limited resources and can't fund everything."

Be that as it may, low budget Irish cinema has been thrown into the limelight internationally in recent months. Lenny Abrahamson’s forthcoming release Garage, written by Adam and Paul’s Mark O’Halloran and starring comedian Pat Shortt, won the prestigious CICAE Art and Essai Cinema Prize at this year’s Cannes Film Festival. On top of that, John Carney’s musical romance Once continues to garner rave reviews in the US and has been rhapsodised in Time Out, Variety and the Washington Post. What’s more, the influential website OscarWatch has installed Carney as a favourite to be nominated for an Academy Award next Spring.

The backbone of success stories like Garage and Once lies in the tax incentive scheme known as Section 481, which has been in place since the early '90s and is secured until 2008. However, other countries – in Eastern Europe in particular –have adopted similar schemes, which, coupled with lower cost economies, hasdiminished Ireland's once shining standing from the heyday of the 1990s,when the likes of Braveheart and Saving Private Ryan were filmed here.

The Minister for Arts and Tourism John O'Donoghue awarded an extra €1.5million in supplementary funding to the Film Board in 2005 and increased its2006 budget by 21 per cent to somewhere in the region of €20 million.Needless to say, the issues of funding and making a living in the industrydominate any discussion with filmmakers in Ireland.

"It's understandable that the government only have so much financialresources to give over to the Film Board," Cantwell explains. "But there isa shortfall, a lack of support for Irish filmmakers. Plus considering thelevel that we're operating at, it needs to be subsidised if it's reallygoing to work. We need support if we're going to have a cultural voice, ifwe're going to be able to make films that compete on an internationalstage."

Anton's producer Patrick Clarke is the go-to man for the realities offunding in Ireland today. Clarke is a highly experienced actor and producer,having worked in New York and LA since arriving there illegally in the mid'80s. His well-receieved acting and writing debut *Beyond the Pale* (1999)took three years to finance. On Anton, Clarke realised that it's oftenjust a case of who you know and calling in some favours.

"I just came from Mountjoy becuase we needed to shoot there for an hour ortwo, plus they had garda uniforms from the 1970s in the museum there,"Clarke says. "You find people are very helpful when they hear you're tryingto do a film on limited funds.

"We were up in Cavan last, using three different farms owned by AnthonyFox's relatives so right away we didn't have to worry about locationsbecause it was all enclosed. It's when you come down to places likeDublin when you encounter problems. You're like the daddy for 30-odd people."

"I've worked a lot in America and what I find is there's no infrastructurein place here, no mechanism to support filmmaking on a greater scale," he adds.
"Here, there's only one company that provides lights for film. Otherwise youhave to import it. Also, there's only one place that provides cameras so youhave to book them way in advance. There's only about 20 people doing soundin the country, 10 continuity people, half a dozen gaffers. We couldn't puttogether a crew when we started filming last September because the peopleand the equipment just were not available."

As producer, Clarke is well-versed in the nuances of film funding andmake suggestions as to what can – and should - be done to make theprocess smoother forall concerned.
"Look at it this way," he explains. "There's the Film Board, whose entireannual budget to facilitate the development of filmmaking in this country isnot even the fifth of the budget of one Hollywood film.

"It's up to the Government to provide support , but it's also up to thefilmmakers too to make films that are interesting enough to reach wideraudiences internationally. Irish films tend to be just that - Irish films -with subject matter that's not very identifiable outside this country."

Clarke continues: "We may be loved in the US, but the reality is an Irishfilm never opens on a wide release in America. *The Wind the Shakes theBarley* and *Michael Collins* both opened in small niche markets in LA, NewYork and Chicago. I'd love to see Irish films in the mould ofHollywood movies where it's irrelevant whether the subject matter is Irish or not."

In terms of raising funding for Anton, Clarke pursued less traditionalsources of revenue. "There's a kind of welfare mentality toward filmmakinghere because everyone goes to the Government for money when they're starting out," he says.

"I think there's other ways to do that now. The Irish economy is awash with money, especially in the corporate sector and private sector so that's whatwhere we targetted essentially. We had €5,000 in the bank starting this. Sowe went out to people in the business community to pitch and they said,'Everyone needs a leg up' and 'We admire what you're doing so we'll help youif we can'."

As I point out to Clarke and Cantwell, the average age of everyone on theset of Anton is 30. Is there a new confidence in young people today who want to pursue a career in filmmaking and is that confidence justified?

Clarke answers that it is a great thing to see, but that a harsh realitysoon sets in for Ireland's most ambitious and talented filmmakers. "Yes there is more confidence, but where do they go to make their first film?", Clarke says. "I think it's tragic because we have tons of youngpeople who want to try something different, they want to try something inthe arts. They don't want to get into normal professions. They're going to realise that they're going to have to leave this country to go to where thework in film and TV is because it's not here. And that brain drain is tragicbecause they'll go away and someone else will get the benefit of that."

Director Cantwell takes a different slant on the question."To be honest,what any artistic career is about is perseverance and a belief in what you're doing," Cantwell states. "If you believe you have the talent, it'sreally about persisting over resistance and to keep at it against the odds.
"I've been making films for 11 years, but it's really only this year that things have started happening.

"It's good that so many young people are pursuing film as a career. The culture of a nation is captured in the art of the time, and cinema is the major art form of this day and age. The mass art at the moment is cinema andwe really need to be representing ourselves through that medium. Yes, there are commercial considerations, but at the same time we need to support those low budget features that try to capture something of our history and how we are today."

With that point in mind, my eye goes back to the actors waiting on the set and on one in particular. It's none other than Scottish author Irvine Welsh,a friend of Cantwell's, and whose novel Trainspotting was adapted into a hit1996 film that soon took on the moniker of Britain's 'state of the nation'movie for the 1990s.

I put it to Cantwell that perhaps Welsh's presence on set is a presentiment that *Anton* could be Ireland's state of the nation movie. Or perhaps that movie has come and gone already?
"I think we're on the cusp of something," Cantwell admits. "With the amount of non-nationals who have arrived her, it's a cultural hotpot inIreland now. It's going to be the greatest opportunity forIreland to embrace that and take it forward and to look at our reputation for being the most welcoming. Here's our chance to prove that or disprove that."

He continues: "I'd love to see a culture here that's fully integrated, thatembraces all the cultures that come in, and allows them to influence us andat the same time not lose our own identity. It's only through integrationthat we can develop, that you can create. The alternative is to stick to theold values and destroy something new that could really blossom. That'sreally where the film industry can capture something and portray it in acertain light to the Irish population and further afield. I don't think that has happened yet, but I think it will. Any day now."

Declan Cashin





-- http://lowlyjourno.blogspot.com/

Just His Luck

Interview with Eric Bana from last Friday's Day and Night magazine in the Irish Independent (22/6/2007)

You might have seen and, if you’re anything like me, drooled over him in Troy, Hulk and Munich, but can you honestly say you know anything about Australian actor Eric Bana? He’s never in the press for bad-boy or difficult behaviour (unlike his fellow Antipodean Russell Crowe). He’s not out banging the publicity drums for temporarily fashionable charities. This 38-year-old self-effacing bloke is probably the most famous non-famous star working today. And that’s just the way he likes it.

“Fame is easy to me because, quite honestly, I’m not that famous,” he says in his strong accent. “I can go out right now for a wander and I won’t have a problem. Someone might occasionally recognise me, but I have a very easy level of fame and I wouldn’t swap it for anything. There’s a perception that anyone who’s even remotely famous has this crazy life and that’s just not true.”

Be that as it may, on this hot Friday afternoon in the St Regis Grand hotel in Rome, Bana is prompting a flurry of excitement among the gathered international press, particularly among the female contingen. There is no escaping it: Bana is an extraordinarily handsome man. He’s tall (almost 6’3”), dark, built like a Greek warrior (a physical hangover from his Troy days) and, on the day I meet him, immaculately attired in a light blue shirt, dark navy jeans and sporting the kind of designer stubble that no mere mortal man could achieve.

Bana is in the Eternal City to talk about Lucky You, a romantic drama set amongst the world of professional poker in Las Vegas. Bana plays Huck, an ace card player with a huge chip on his shoulder regarding his gambling legend father L.C (played by Robert Duvall). Huck’s life is all about the game and not making connections with other people in order to keep his edge. That way of life is challenged, however, when he meets aspiring singer Billie (Drew Barrymore), whose sweet honesty and emotional intuition forces Huck to confront his father around the table and away from it, and ultimately to learn to “play poker, but have a life too.”

Lucky You is directed by Curtis Hanson, the gifted helmer of such diverse movies as 8 Mile, In Her Shoes and his Oscar-winning magnum opus LA Confidential. The movie very much uses the game of poker to metaphorise key questions about life and love, and Bana relished the chance to play a romantic lead that audiences would have to struggle to empathise with.

“Huck is a bit of a d*ck at the start of the movie,” Bana tells me. “You can see he’s quite selfish and immature, but at the same time, I think there’s something envious about that. I think we all wish we could be so careless and self-centred, but life dictates that most of us can’t be. So I hoped people would relate to that.

“For me, I found the father-son stuff to be most interesting part of the film. It’s kind of like Greek mythology: that whole notion of the son defeating the father in order to become a man.”

While Huck and his father L.C might be in conflict with one another, it was the opposite for Bana when it came to sharing the screen with the legendary Duvall. “He’s my favourite actor in the world,” Bana reveals. “His consistency of great work all throughout his career is really inspiring to someone like myself. But it’s the way Bob embraces life away from his work that I admire most. I remember one day I was talking to him about the old days in the 60s and 70s and I asked, ‘How did you survive that crazy time with all your friends doing coke and going into rehab?’ And he just said [breaking into an uncanny impression of Duvall], ‘Hobbies, you got to have hobbies! I have horses. Go race your cars [Bana is an avid racing driver and fan], stick to your hobbies’. That’s a great lesson from someone like him to impart to a younger actor: having real interests outside the work keeps you motivated and keeps you fresh.”

Maintaining his life firmly outside of the Hollywood bubble has been one of the defining aspects of Bana’s career to date. Born in Melbourne to a German mother and Croatian father (his surname is actually Banadinovich), he set his heart on becoming an actor after seeing his fellow countryman Mel Gibson in the Mad Max movies (“Parts one and two are awesome…we don’t talk about the third,” he jokes).

He moved to Sydney to study acting and began doing stand-up comedy, landing TV roles in the sketch show Full Frontal and a short stint on his own titular comedy show. Bana made his big-screen debut in the The Castle in 1997, but it was his astonishing portrayal of the notorious Melbourne criminal Chopper Read in Chopper (2000) that seared Bana into the national and international consciousness.

It’s a role that still follows him around to this day. “It was a seminal film for me and I’m really proud of it,” he says. “For a movie that nobody made any money on, it sure has lived on! It’s the one film that always comes up and I’m always surprised that people have seen it.”

Ridley Scott cast Bana in Black Hawk Down soon after, but in 2003, he took his first steps into the mainstream by playing the title role in Ang Lee’s movie adaptation of the Incredible Hulk. The movie was panned by critics, and was deemed a commercial disappointment, so much so that the follow up movie, currently in production, has been taken over by a new director and star, Edward Norton.

I carefully broach the topic of the new Hulk movie, expecting it to be a sore point. Bana effects mock surprise and gasps, ‘What? There’s a new movie? Who’s in it? Edward Norton? Who’s that?!” He then laughs and says: “You know, if Hulk opened today and did the same business it did, everyone would say it’s a huge hit. It made $140m!

“But when Hulk came out, it was after the first Spiderman so everyone stupidly thought every comic book movie was going to make $750m and Hulk didn’t. The movie is very dark so it probably didn’t get as much as much of an audience as it could have. Personally I think the film could have been a little more fun, but that was the film Ang Lee set out to make and we all knew that.

“I’m really proud of it and I think it’s unique in that genre. There’s no ill feeling whatsoever. It was an amazing experience that created a lot of opportunities for me. Steven Spielberg said himself that’s what made him cast me in Munich. So I can’t have any regrets about it. And the fact that Edward Norton is doing the next one is the icing on the cake. He’s one of the great actors of my generation and I personally find that flattering. To be honest, there was never a conversation we had about a sequel, so I have no qualms about it.”

Bana still lives in Melbourne with his wife Rebecca and young Klaus (7) and Sophia (5). He categorically has ruled out moving to Los Angeles for his career’s sake and likes to take breaks in between movies so he can spend as much time at home as possible. But the star says that working pattern came about due to the nature of the projects he was involved in, rather than by any conscious decision to work less.

“So many of the movies I’ve done have been so long in production that it just turned out that way,” he explains. “You work on movies like Hulk or Troy and they’re huge. So if I have less product than other actors my age, it’s because I haven’t done movies that only took 2-3 months to shoot. I have done less movies than my peers, but I couldn’t have done it any other way. And there’s no point living in LA for me, because nothing is shot there. I just made a small movie back home [Romulus my Father] and my next one [The Time Traveller’s Wife] is likely to be shot in Canada. So if I moved to LA, I’d spend the whole time going, ‘Sh*t! Why the hell did I do that?!’”

Right now, Bana is an actor very much in control of his career and is extremely grounded in his attitudes to Hollywood and fame. “I never had expectations of Hollywood and I still don’t,” he states. “Essentially the benefit of working in Hollywood is that you have more to choose from. I now have scripts that come in from Australia and ones that come in from overseas. That’s the most you can expect.

“Besides, it’s too late for me anyway! I don’t think at my age you suddenly can pop and turn into a huge star. People never really get to see me as myself, in my own accent. For American actors, it’s different because people feel like they know them better. So I think the ability of the public to get hold of what I am is harder.” Bana pauses for a second and then laughs: “I’m optimistic that it will stay that way for me!”

Declan Cashin

Stag trumps Hag

From Day and Night magazine in today's Irish Independent

The 'fag hag' is finally getting her moment in the spotlight, having spent decades playing a supporting role in the never-ending drama/romance/horror/satire that is a gay man's life.

Two out and proud ladies have edited a celebration of fag-haggery in all its glory, entitled 'Girls Who Like Boys Who Like Boys'.

For the uninitiated, a fag hag is a gay man's straight gal pal, who has at various points served as date, beard, pub/club companion and therapist to said gay man (and vice versa). Think Grace in Will and Grace — or Niles in Frasier!

I've long suspected that the gay man/fag hag dynamic has had its day, and I think one of the reasons why is hit upon in this book by contributor Simon Doonan. He claims that fag hags have become obsolete because "straight men are now less obnoxious to be around".

From the gay man's point of view, Doonan makes a good argument. Metrosexualisation – itself a byproduct of gay culture – has prompted a lot of straight men to embrace different lifestyles and cast off engrained attitudes. They know they cannot hold onto old prejudices and fears if they are to function in today's world.

As a case in point, I have a few straight male friends who have no problem going to gay bars with me. They're like my 'fag stags', if you will: guys who are either so secure in their own sexuality and/or are such good friends that they have no qualms about socialising in gay venues.
Gay and straight men have both been known to equally intimidate the other, but, with some very serious exceptions, this appears to be fading away. The simple shared experience of being men might just be enough to transcend sexual labels. I think both sides can gain things from these friendships. Except for the kissing of the girls. My straight friends can keep that one for themselves.

Rainbow Warriors

Greena Fail? Bertie and his Amazing Technicolour Dream Vote? Who'd have thunk it,eh?

Laa Laa politicians

From Day and Night magazine in today's Irish Independent

As our recent General Election taught us, you really would have to be mad to be a politician. Sometimes, however, politicians prove to us just how mad they can be.



Take the latest development from Poland's frighteningly entertaining right-wing government. Ewa Sowinska, the State-appointed children's rights watchdog, wants the Teletubbies banned from Polish TV because the show seems to promote homosexuality.



Ewa was gravely concerned because the male Tinky Winky was seen carrying a purse, which apparently "may have a homosexual undertone". That's because gays carry purses, you see (at last! The excuse I've been waiting for!). Ewa's even recruited psychologists to assess the pink threat posed by the foursome.



The whole thing would be funny, if it wasn't sad and sad if it wasn't funny (as an aside, if the Teletubbies are guilty of promoting anything, it's drugs, seeing how surreal and trippy the whole show is).



Of course, this isn't the first time that kiddie's entertainment has been subject to our modern pink witch-hunts. March of the Penguins and SpongeBob Squarepants have also been attacked recently by evangelical right-wingers in the US for supposed gay leanings.



But seriously folks, relax. A lot of popular kids entertainment caries allegorical messages, some of which, admittedly, could be perceived as gay readings. To pick some recent examples, just look at Shrek (where Princess Fiona must conceal her true self) and both A Shark's Tale and Happy Feet (where a kid is rejected by disappointed parents and peers for being 'different'). Most comic book adaptations, from Spiderman to X Men, are also loaded with gay subtexts.



But if double meanings are present, they're not designed as part of some insidious plot to corrupt children's minds or push some agenda down their throats. If anything, it's the opposite.
For the most part, these kids' shows and movies simply communicate messages of tolerance, acceptance and being true to yourself — all pretty destructive and harmful things for kids to learn, I think you'd agree.





But why teach kids to be open-minded when you can further your political career by making them fear the Teletubbies instead? Politics is really just Laa Laa, isn't it?

Cash Me If You Can

From Day and Night magazine in today's Irish Independent

I'm really stupid about money. I don't mean that I'm especially reckless with cash, but I just can't seem to get my head around the whole concept of managing it.





To be perfectly honest, money baffles me. I love having it — but that's where any relationship ends. Like the Taoiseach, I don't 'do'savings accounts, mainly because I don't want to have to go to a bank and get information about one (which I'm convinced was Bertie's real reason too).





Mention any economic-related topic to me and, like Homer Simpson, my brain just announces, 'I'm outta here', my eyes glaze over and I drop to the ground in a lifeless, lobotomised heap.The same goes for tax. When it comes to PAYE and PRSI, I aint got a clue — except that I'm paying too much of both.





My best friend has a Masters in Economics and he's tried to explain the system to me, but he's just given up, having copped that a tin of soggy spinach wouldgrasp what a tax credit is before I would.





I guess my ignorance – I prefer the term 'mental block' but whatever –can be traced back to being a student for so long. When I started working, the concept of money was so foreign to me that I had to hire a diplomat to explain my first pay slip.





Until very recently, my world of finance was limited to student discounts, promotional nights and rummaging on that shelf in the supermarket for the knocked-down items that go out of date by the end of the day before they presumably implode like Tom Cruise's secret assignment briefs in Mission: Impossible.





Being a money moron just scares me sometimes, especially when I see people my age — and even younger — buying property or other sensible investments. I can't ever see a day when I'll be that savvy to channel my funds in the right way and put it to good use. I guess all I can do in the meantime is continue in my wilfull ignorance and, like SpikeMilligan, beg for the chance to prove that loads of money can't make me happy.

I Bebo, Therefore I Am (a tweenage girl)

Column from Day and Night magazine in today's Irish Independent

Being the easily peer-pressured, follow-the-herd merchant that I am, I caved into the online social networking craze from the get-go. To not do so would have signalled me out as 'different' and the Gods in heaven know I'll do anything to avoid that label.



I've been quite a consistent "social networker" since then, albeit not on MySpace (the officially 'cool' one), but rather on Bebo (the 'tweenage girl' one). "Social networker" is a phrase I find simply hilarious though. It's not so much a "social network" as a haven for the "excessively curious" ( i.e. nosy parkers) or "thorough researchers" (i.e. stalkers).





Bebo and the likes may have originally developed as a way to keep in touch with friends, but, lately, it's taken on a much wider remit. I had this confirmed recently while chatting someone up. He didn't ask for my number or even my MSN address.





Instead, he asked for a link to my Bebo page and he hasn't been the last person to ask something similar of me or others I know. What good is a number or simple text message anymore when you can gain far deeper insight into a potential love interest's life by way of their personal web page?





Bebo, for example, will have ample photos on display, lists of hobbies, evidence of who a person's friends and even their exes are, as well as a glimpse into the person's personality and sense of humour.





Why, it basically does all the hard work of a first date by getting all the rudimentary 'getting to know you' awkwardness out of the way, without actually having to go on a first date with someone. Talk about efficient time management.





So if you don't keep your personal web page up-to-scratch, you'd best get cracking. If things keep going this way, pretty soon nobody will form an opinion on you until they've auditioned you by way of your Bebo. And to think that so-called experts said the internet would destroy our ability to relate to other people on a human level. What a bunch of quacks, eh?

Bloom's Day

From Day and Night in today's Irish Independent


Orlando Bloom is huge in LA right now. Literally. On Hollywood Boulevard and the Sunset Strip, Bloom looms over the city from gigantic billboards promoting one of the 2007’s most eagerly-awaited movies and the conclusion to one of the most successful movie trilogies in cinema history. If Bloom has a big head – literally and figuratively – it would be perfectly understandable.



But on a dull Thursday morning in the Beverly Hilton hotel, eight days before the release of Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End, Orlando Bloom is, if anything, more humble than ever. Dressed in a black jacket, grey top and dark jeans and boots, Bloom seems shy and somewhat uncomfortable when thrust in the spotlight.



Having spent the best part of the last eight years playing either elf warrior Legolas or swashbuckler Will Turner in two of the most lucrative and popular movie franchises ever, Bloom has clocked up more experience in the field of Hollywood blockbusters than most actors would in a lifetime. The question is, after Lord of the Rings and Pirates, what does an actor do next?



“I’m going back to London to do some theatre,” a relaxed and tanned Bloom says. “I need to do something completely different now. I want to go back to what it felt like when I left drama school – you know, that feeling of immersing myself in a completely different world.



“The only thing I don’t want to feel again is how poor I was when I left drama school. I definitely don’t need to go back there!



“I feel very fortunate. I mean, it feels like I’ve been doing pirate movies for most of my adult life, but it’s been great because obviously this is a quality film and I’ve been working with terrific people. It’s been a fantastic safety net as it were. It’s certainly a bittersweet feeling to be saying goodbye to it.



“It’s kind of a transition time for me now, having gotten to the end of a big series of movies. I’m excited about doing new film work, but mainly theatre. Geoffrey Rush and Bill Nighy [his Pirates co-stars], two actors I really admire, have told me that mixing theatre with film keeps them sharp. I’ve been toying with the idea for a long time. I just realised I had to make the time because movies kept coming in. I needed to create space for it.”



And space is just what Bloom has created. His IMDb profile confirms that Bloom has no up-coming movie projects in production at the moment. Who could blame him? The three Pirates movies alone took a combined total of four years to make, with parts two and three shot back-to-back in an epic and troubled 284 day shoot.



Aside from the workload, there’s also the staggering level of expectation that is accompanying At World’s End. The first movie, The Curse of the Black Pearl, was an unexpected smash hit, grossing $654 million in 2003. But the sequel, Dead Man’s Chest, defied box-office records despite poor reviews, pulling in an astonishing $1 billion worldwide gross, placing it at number three in the list of all-time box office champs.



This would indicate that the Pirates franchise has a loyal, inbuilt fan base and that At World’s End is probably impervious to any criticism. In its own right, the movie is more enjoyable that the middle instalment, although its plot is highly convoluted. Be that as it may, the movie boasts some terrific action set-pieces, lots more of Johnny Depp’s idiosyncratic posturing and a much-anticipated Keith Richards cameo.



“What’s so cool about this trilogy is that it was in response to the audience that the second and third were made,” Bloom explains. “We set out making the first movie and we never intended to make more, unlike Lord of The Rings, which was always going to be three movies. It was no easy feat for everyone to take what was meant to be just one movie and spin it into a second and third. I think it’s exciting because it feels that no matter what anyone says or writes about this film, the audience has taken ownership of it at this point.”



Orlando Bloom was born in Canterbury in England in 1977. As a child, Bloom struggled in school due to dyslexia, but excelled at drama and the arts. At age 16, he moved to London to join the National Youth Theatre, and later trained in the Guildhall School of Music and Dance. It was while performing in a production for the college that Bloom met director Peter Jackson, who then cast him as Legolas in the Lord of the Rings Trilogy (2001-2003), propelling Bloom into superstardom.



In addition to the Tolkien epics, Bloom also starred in the historical blockbusters Troy, opposite Brad Pitt and Kingdom of Heaven, with Liam Neeson. In 2005, Bloom tried to move way from action roles and was cast in his first modern leading part in Cameron Crowe’s Elizabethtown, which bombed at the box office and was skewered by critics.



Talking to Bloom, it’s clear that he has struggled with the level of fame and scrutiny that his successes – and failures – have opened him up to.



“The attention I got after Lord of The Rings put me more in to a shell,” he admits. “It made me a little shyer. It was very new and I wasn’t sure how to deal with it and I think I’m still learning how to come out of that shell.



“This trilogy coming to a close and moving into other work is giving me confidence in myself to work on my craft in another way. It’s going to be fun. I know what I’m capable of and I’m not afraid to make mistakes along the way. I’ve found that when you’ve been a part of so much success and people associate you with success, if you make a step wrong, then they shoot you down. Having turned 30 this year, I’ve realised there’s nothing at stake, nothing to lose and everything to gain.”



That birthday was, Bloom admits, a turning point in his life. “I just felt like I didn’t have to take myself seriously anymore,” he says. “It was a big relief to be honest and I had a great birthday in Hawaii with friends and some family.



“It’s been fantastic being a part of such successful trilogies, but turning 30 made me look at how fortunate I’ve been and so I asked, ‘What can I do that will challenge me in a totally different way?’”



Both the Lord of the Rings and the Pirates movies have been separately called the Star Wars for the Bebo/MySpace generation. Indeed, Bloom’s roles in these trilogies put him in the same bracket as Harrison Ford, whose career was defined by the Star Wars and Indiana Jones trilogies. But the major difference is that Bloom was not the key character of LOTR and in the Pirates movies, he’s more Mark Hamill than Ford, playing the straight-man to the swaggering, scene-stealing genius of Johnny Depp in his iconic role as Captain Jack Sparrow. So, did it get annoying playing second-fiddle in what is essentially The Johnny Depp Show?



Bloom laughs. “You know, I’d often watch Johnny as Jack and just marvel at his ability to physically create this character,” he says. “And Geoffrey [Rush] had freedom to act written right across his forehead so he was just be totally out there. But actually, watching the first two, my character Will is like the emotional core. He’s got clear objectives – to save his dad and get the girl and be willing to die for those – and there was something heroic and simple about that that made him central in his own right.



“But Johnny’s probably one of the most courageous actors and movie stars alive today. He’s made a career of not being afraid to fail. If I could have just a tiny bit of that and a bit of that rubbed off, I’d be very lucky.”



Outside of movies, Bloom has also become involved in environmental issues, and is one of several celebrities that launched the Global Cool campaign last year that aims to tackle global warming by encouraging people to reduce their ‘carbon footprint’. The green star is even in the process of building an eco-friendly house in London.



“Yeah my home in London will have solar panels to heat the place,” he explains. “We all have to just do what we can.



“I just got back from a mission to Antarctica where I heard and was shown so much evidence about melting ice caps. The environment is such a massive issue, and everyone thinks its doom and gloom, all or nothing, but I don’t think that’s the case.



“You can drive an SUV but there’s a balance. Maybe use energy efficient lightbulbs or be conscious of switching off lights or, if you can afford an SUV, then maybe make a contribution to a windfarm. It’s all about balance. If you think of the ice caps as the fridge of our planet, then if that fridge dies, then the food that you have in it would go rotten and you’d starve. We all have to be aware of it.”



Bloom himself freezes up, however, when the subject of his love life comes up, and no amount of charm or coaxing can melt his resolve. Bloom was dating Superman Returns actress Kate Bosworth for four years, but the couple broke up last year. Since then, he has been linked to Spanish star Penelope Cruz, but Bloom refuses to go into it.



“I’m looking forward to having a family one day,” he says. “When I meet the right partner, I’ll be happy to settle down. And I’m not moving back to London because of a relationship – unless you count my dog!”



Once the publicity schedule for At World’s End dies down, Bloom is looking forward to taking some time out to relax. After such an intense period of work, his private time is very important to the star. So how does he unwind from it all?



“I try to keep it very real,” he reveals. “I have great family and friends, I have a cool dog and I’ve been afforded an ability to make a home and create a real life. When you work in such a surreal environment, time off to just read a book or listen to music or hang out with friends or even time alone is very special, so I’m enjoying that now.”



As I prepare to leave, I ask Bloom if his move to theatre work will follow in the steps of Harry Potter star Daniel Radcliffe, who has generated headlines all over the world for doing full-frontal nudity in the stage production of Equus.



“You’re asking if I’m going to get naked in London?,” he laughs. “Well, I’m very fortunate that I’ve learned how to be comfortable on a huge Jerry Bruckheimer-style movie set, but I feel I’m not as comfortable in a theatre, with a live audience, so that’s going to be a challenge. I want that fear and I’m going to give it my best shot.” And as he gets up, Bloom smiles and adds: “Not sure I’ll be getting my bits and pieces out though!”



Declan Cashin

Single

Alternatively column from Day and Night magazine in today's Irish Independent


I’ve just read a book called ‘Gay and Single…Forever’, which stirred a slew of different emotions within me. The first were anger and jealousy directed at its author Steven Bereznai for stealing the title of my yet-to-be-published, multi-part autobiography.


Mainly, I found myself relieved that someone else had articulated my long-held view that, while gay and straight couples are treated differently (mainly by the law), gay and straight single people have always been equally discriminated against or viewed as some kind of problem to fix.


The main crux of this book is that we seem to have moved onto a point where single gay people are feeling the same societal pressure to partner up that straight people have been feeling forever. This pressure appears to stem from a deep unease that exists about singletons – that we must be dysfunctional or failures somehow.


From my viewpoint, there appear to be a helluva lot of single people today – gay and straight - and we can’t all be unlucky-in-love miscreants. We just know the single tag is too precious to give up lightly.


I love being single and I know I’m open to the idea of going out with someone (but not just ‘anyone’). From my experience, it’s been the case that when I’m single for any great length, I want to be with someone, but when I’m with someone, I can’t wait to be single again.


Those feelings can’t just be down to insecurity, low self-esteem or a desire to stay independent – though I do have spectacular amounts of all those very qualities on offer if there are any takers. Like most of my single comrades I’ve discussed this with, I have to believe that once I meet someone that makes me not want to run away, then I’ll know it’s right.


And as a happily partnered-up pal said last week: when it’s right, it’s easy. So remember, when it comes to love, it seems you only get the things you want when you stop wanting what it is you want. Ha ha love: I’m gonna get you, sucka. Wow, and there’s a potential title for the autobiography too.

From today's Irish Times

On the Road to Kandahar: Travels through Conflict in the Islamic World
Jason Burke
Penguin, £8.99

British journalist Jason Burke is better qualified than most to comment on Islam, having spent 15 years travelling around and reporting from places such as Iraq, Afghanistan, Pakistan and Morocco. In this enlightening account of those travels, Burke forcefully conveys to us just how incomprehensibly complex and varied the so-called "Islamic World" actually is. Beginning with his own experiences fighting with Kurdish rebels at the end of Desert Storm, right through to 9/11, Afghanistan and, of course, the disastrous invasion of Iraq, Burke analyses the religious, cultural and political histories of various regions of the Middle East and beyond in a clear, thoughtful and, most admirably, respectful manner. Burke's riveting reportage reminds Western readers that this endlessly contradictory "Islamic World" will continue to defy easy categorisation and easy answers. - Declan Cashin

Treated like royalty

From Day and Night magazine in today's Irish Independent

Now I'm not one to brag [silence descends as a tumbleweed blows by], but sometimes, something so surreal and downright jammy occurs that you just have to boast about it to all and sundry: I got to see Prince. Live. From the VIP section. For Free. Standing opposite Paris Hilton.



How so, you ask? I was in Las Vegas a few weeks ago with three friends, and we had set our hearts on seeing the Artist Formerly Knownas The Artist Formerly Known as Prince (i.e. Prince) live at the Rio casino.



We excitedly turned up on the night with a pretty flexible budget for tickets, only to learn they were $250 each. That was that plan over.



However, twenty minutes before Prince was set to take to the stage, we decided to give it one more shot. Convinced that the bouncer was "of gay flavouring", I was sent to flirt and charm tickets out of him. Needless to say that was a car crash to behold, but it was at that precise moment that we got talking to one of those Americans who profess their love for Irish people in the most passionate of terms.



This lady then introduced us to the group of New York fund accountants she was with — who happened to have four spare passes for the show.The guy with the tickets then just gave them to us, told us to enjoy the show - oh, and that they were for the VIP section next to the stage, with free drink all night.



It was honestly the most random, no-strings-attached, generous good deed I had ever been party to. Before we knew it, we had a glass inhand, Prince was blasting out a cover of Stevie Wonder's Superstition and Paris Hilton was snogging Edie's hot nephew from Desperate Housewives in the section right in front of us.

A friend who has also been to Vegas says such a thing could only happen in Sin City. Amen to that. As for the rest of that trip, I'm afraid I'm going to have to keep shtum. I've already revealed too much. After all, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

Bertie V Enda

What a damp squib that was. Enda didn't land a killer punch - not even on matters of health and quality of life, which are two disastrous areas for Ahern. Enda never quite focused his arguments or provided clear details about how he will implement policies. Disappointing.

Bertie, of course, had all his statistics at hand, but they were largely impenetrable and off-putting. Worse, he came across as arrogant, sarcastic and cynical, with a nauseating sense of entitlement to the post of Taoiseach. He also seems very surly, no doubt due to the public and media pasting over Bertiegate. Do you really want to be stuck with that sulking for the next 5 years?

We have to 'choose' between these two? I'll leave it to Simon and Garfunkel - master chroniclers of lost idealism and cultural stagnation that they are - to sum up my impression of our two potential Taoisigh:

"...Going to the candidates' debate,
Laugh about it, shout about it,
When you have to choose,
Every way you look at this you lose."

Coalition Twister

Seeing how ambivalent the country seems to be about both putative coalitions on offer in the General Election, and in order to spare us from all the tortured post-election deal negotiations, the Dail parties should instead agree to play a game of Coalition Twister.

Considering there's no real difference between any of the parties - other than personnel - it could be a neat and speedy way to bring about the next Government.

President McAleese, as constitutional guardian, could call out theinstructions and each party could be assigned their own colour: Fianna Fail could be grey and the PDs a slightly lighter shade of grey; Fine Gael could be blue, Labour red, Sinn Fein black (as in sheep) and the Greens, naturally, a turquoise colour.

Following the rules of Twister, the various parties could then contort themselves left and right into whatever position is called for - shouldn't be too much of a stretch for any of them - and whatever colour or combination of colours still standing at the end could form the new Government. It would certainly bring some colour to this election for the first time.

In the case of townie V culchie...

From Day and Night magazine in today's Irish Independent


Ireland may have had its many divisions through the ages, but the great class war was one social conflict that appeared to have bypassed us, even as it swept across other countries such as our closest neighbour across the Irish Sea.


But we can take comfort in the fact that we had our own rather less socialist variant of class war - a conflict that's always been with us and probably always will: that of townie versus culchie.
I guess this divide is not a class struggle per se, but more of a vessel through which Ireland's favourite past-time — slagging — can be channelled.


I should point out that I am indeed a culchie (a ‘riddle inside an enigma inside a country accent’ as I was once described). The way it works, apparently, is that everyone born in Dublin is a townie and everyone born in the 25 other counties of the Republic are culchies, replete with strange, foreign dialects, the likes of which you’d only hear in the far reaches of the Middle East.


However, what Dublin folk often forget is that within the culchie kingdom, the classification system subdivides even more, forging a slew of hyphenated identities. So, for example, in Kilkenny where I am from, I would be considered a culchie-culchie seeing as I was raised in the countryside, whereas my friends who were born in Kilkenny city (and yes, it is a city!) are culchie-townies.


It’s all very complicated and so it can be easy to forget just who you are and where you’re from, which, a lot of the time, is exactly what some people are looking for. Thankfully, the rivalry is largely good-natured – even ironic, as so much is today - and the extremists on both sides who are genuinely vicious to each other are to be pitied more than anything else.


But perhaps the culchie vs townie rivalry persists because we culchies are a threat. We are literally taking over the capital in every walk of life. So with that in mind, all you townies who are so quick to slag should really make the effort to be nice to culchies. Chances are you'll end up working for one someday.
declan.cashin@gmail.com