Conferences, Enron, Double Pregnancies and The Godfather

Off to the Labour Party conference in Brighton this week in a working capacity. I'm looking forward to it, purely because I can sense many of the attendees will be going into alcoholic/painkiller/prescription drug meltdown. Also I hear Brighton is quite the place if you have a penchant for crap roller coasters, burnt Edwardian piers, Fat Boy Slim , gentrified coastal housing and rainbow flags wink wink, nudge nudge! I don't like any of these things so will stick to reading Wired indoors and drinking gin cocktails.

Wired is a fantastic magazine that is rapidly garnering an avid readership. Perhaps because it is so prescient it has recently entered the top three on my list of favorite mags (When Saturday Comes and Private Eye are one and two respectively) though this is nothing to get worked up about as I tend to change my allegiance to particular newsprint publications on a bi-monthly basis. Anyway Wired first piqued my attention because it appeared to discuss all those important things that the Economist mumbles on about; technology, science, business and culture, in a way that seemed genuinely innovative and involving. The fact that it is generally thought provoking and enlightening, even when the topics it tends to discuss (DNA manipulation, Cern, Twitter, Green technologies) tend to bore the fuck out of anyone with a vague social life, marks it out as special. It uses all kinds of interesting gizmos, graphs, graphics illustrations and faddy gimmicks to brighten the well written, easily accessible articles, whilst leaving the reader basking in the smug glow of someone who believes that they have actually glimpsed prophetically into the future. I'm looking forward to next month's edition explaining to me exactly how a woman who was already pregnant could subsequently get herself up the duff again only a month later, as some poor American girl was reported to have done last week. Actually really messed up.

Away from staying indoors with a technology magazine, I spent last Saturday watching Lucy Prebble's outstanding second full length play Enron which has sold out it's current run at The Royal Court. Also in attendance was Zachary Quinto (Sylar from Heroes, Spok in the new Star Trek) who I spied drinking a latte in the bar during the interval. Sick stalking! I was really bowled over by the play; a scathing fictionalized study of how hubris and greed transformed a small Texan energy supplier into a bizarre corporation devoid of assets, profits or any tangible direction. All it had was clever accountants and 'ideas.' I think Miss/Mrs Prebble has now become a new literary hero so watch out for a full length fawning dissection of the play over the weekend, along with my inexcusably late reviews of Inglorious and Rachel Getting Married.
On a final note watched The Godfather at the BFI on Sunday, in all its digitally remastered big screen glory. Perfect pace, incredible performances, iconic imagery, epic plot, stunning cinematography and emotional pull, it truly is one of the greatest films ever made.