Atonement

Three years after everyone else in the world saw it I finally got round to watching Joe Wright's 'Atonement' this weekend. It was a drizzly Sunday afternoon so a depressing film was in order, and Wright duly obliged. I must admit I haven't read the Ian McEwan book so was more attracted by it's Hollywood heavyweights, Keira Knightley and James McAvoy. I've been a particular fan of McAvoy's ever since he appeared in Shameless and State of Play (on the telly), and I was even more delighted to find out that he is a whole three inches shorter than me.

I was quietly hoping the film would be a bit of a failure though, in which case I could steal Rosamond Pike from the irritatingly successful Wright. If you haven't seen her in 'An Education' you should probably should do.

To my disappointment I was quite enjoying the film though. It is beautifully shot, has a nice loud typewriter detailing the various locations and features an incredibly rude word. I particularly liked the four-and-a-half minute long scene where McAvoy and his chums wander along the Dunkirk beach. It was refreshing to see Dunkirk in a darker, less triumphalist light.

Nevertheless whilst I was appreciating the movie I didn't anticipate in the slightest how upsetting I would find the last third of it. I think that the best films stay with you beyond the 3 hours spent watching them, and in the case of 'Atonement' I couldn't help but mull it over all day. It was completely haunting. I think I need to watch it again, but in the meantime Joe can keep Rosamond. He deserves her.

Ask Hadley

On my way home today I was accosted outside Kings Cross station by a man who pushed a copy of today's G2 into my hands. I thanked him, a little surprised, and he smiled at me and continued in his work, possibly the only person I have ever seen enjoying his job as a 'newspaper-thrusterer'. I was quite glad he did though as my journey home took a lot longer than it should have, during which time I read the supplement from cover to cover.

Of course, like everyone else who claims to have an interest in writing or anger, I'm a fan of Charlie Brooker, although his piece on fast food didn't leave any great impression on me. Instead I found myself chuckling along to the style agony aunt Hadley and her tirade against 'faux vintage' clothes - 'always sloganed clothing that features a juxtaposition of primary colours and says something unbelievably irritating such as "Jerry's Crayfish Stall"'.

Oh Hadley, how I feel your pain! My dislike of popular brands doesn't come from wanting to be different from everyone else (like those pretentious indie boys who wear granny clothes) but more from the sense that I would have been conned into trying to be cool. I'm not cool but I'm not particularly uncool either. I don't feel particularly strongly about making a statement with my clothes. I shop at Gap and Next ok?

Last week I went to Thorpe Park with a friend. We invented the games 'Jack Kills' and 'Supercry', which basically involved hurting each other whenever we saw a relevant piece of brattish clothing. Particularly uncool and childish but fun nevertheless. Well done Hadley.