What an unusual weekend.

I still felt unwell from the day before. My stomach bloated, and disturbed. I filled in forms and worked over at lunch, then went to the pub to chat. Walked back, found out I'm on a training course Monday and Tuesday. Went to the pub after work, had a couple of quiet drinks with some people from work. I didn't stay too late - still not feeling too well, rather than anti-social - went to sainsburys and then had a burger, and stayed at the girls house for the night. Slept early, and couldn't sleep, for some reason. Woke up about three in the morning, and ended up re-dubbing episodes of Star Trek:The Original Series into english. Like Goldfinger, its blatant sexism is unmistakable. And only our sideburned male hero can convert the female - be it the Lesbian pussy Galore, or the robotic woman of this third season episode - to love. Yes, all these females need is a man to make them alive, to make them complete. The sexist subtext of the sixties lives on, in repeats and in classic films of a bygone age. Only Shatner - the MIGHTY Shat - can make this artificial love droid (Robopussy, if you like) into a complete person. If only Data knew, all his troubles would have been over by the end of "Naked Now" when Tasha Yar proved he was fully functional in the ways of humans.

Went back to bed. Woke up. Went home, via the supermarket and a spot of shopping. Well, just window shopping really. Left one bag of shopping on the bus, like the utter idiot that I am. I can't remember the last time I've ever done that. All I can say is that it's a really stoopid thing to do, to leave the shopping on the bus. Stoopid like you wouldn't believe. The girl came over, we headed out, and we went to see a band. The band were pretty good - in that slick stadium pub rock kind of way - supported by a band from liverpool who were made of two acoustic guitarists who thought that the Jam were the best band ever. They're not, and it made it spectacularly clear the reason why bands from the UK never end up being successful in America. In America, they write songs about how great it is to rock and roll and drive cars - here they write songs about postal strikes, fighting in the tube station at midnight, and how shite everything is. So all in all, that explains a whole lot about why English bands tend to crap. They moan too much. And also, while we're at it, there is something that must be said about that all. Went back home, and slept. Then went out to do a spot more of shopping, like Bread and a bite to eat.Came home, pottered around.

Watched the remake of "The Wicker Man", the remake starring Nicolas Cage. Much as I think Nicolas Cage has good intentions in doing so, what the remake is is completely misguided and utterly pointless. its directed with considerable restraint by arthouse director Neil LaBute - and is miles above and beyond the majority of American hollywood horror movies, the vast majority of which now seem to mistake gratutiously splashing the screen with acres of fake blood for actually being scary. It could have been so so much worse, but its still quite frankly - horrendously misguided and not scary in the slightest. No amount of CGI bees and sepia flashback scenes will ever make the film scary. Aside from being transplanted into rural middle America and an hollywood superstar gesticulating wildly in an over the top manner can match the cold, eerie restraint of the original. I mean, the remake is effective and quite well done, but so changed from the original as to have no point at all. And replacing Christopher Lee with a matriachial Ellen Burstyn just doesn't work, not at all.The best of intentions are hopelessly misguided to produce a film that is without point, without meaning, and never needed to be made, and fails on pretty much every level; except as a bizarre curio devoid of subtext, scares or redeeming features.

The problem lie,s quite simply, on the script level: the original pitted a commited Christian policeman clean of body and spirit, against a bizarre pagan society he neither comprehends or accepts, yet still prays for their redemption. In the remake, Nic Cages over-zealous traffic cop has none of the virtues of Edward Woodwards character in the original, being neither a committed Christian in a pagan land nor a man of physical virtue; he is tainted by the flesh, having born an out of wedlock child and with only the moral compass of US law to assist him in a strictly off the books investigation, pointing guns at unarmed woman simply for not getting off a bike, swearing at children and assaulting the innocent to the point of unconciousness. Quite simply, this character is devoid of hope, redemption or anything but the brute force of the law. And well - the entire reason why he is on the island is that he is chosen for the virtues that in the remake he does not have. Its nearest comparison is Burton's "Planet Of The Apes" mixed with "Misery" with the room 101 scene of "1984"- where everything has been misinterpreted and subtext removed merely to provide narrative structure. Its like a film with all the talent sucked out; And if there is subtext in this remake, it is that all women are evil, archaic creatures beyond reason and understanding ; devoid of any redeeming features at all.

Anmd What of the wickerman himself? In this film, the reveal of the wooden effigy is without suspense, or threat, or menace. Perhaps though, it is that the wooden effigy itself is signposted from the very poster as is on fire. And yet of the ending? Terrible. This DVD is apparently the directors cut (I gather the original cut has Nicolas Cage's character living, and a'Six-month -later' suffix), but really - what of the chilling end? The collapse of the wicker man itself? It obviously doesn't have Nicolas Cage in it, its has so little weight, its too light and unbelievable. And yet the most chilling part of the original - when Edward Woodward is praying to God for his salvation as he burns and praying for the forgiveness of his murderers - is absent, replaced with generic horror movie screaming and some meaningless chanting from the crowd.

Please, avoid this movie. Its beyond redemption, even in its so called Directors cut. I couldn't imagine how bad the other version is, if this is the good version. A Travesty. On the basis of this, Nicolas Cage is now pretty much now a good reason NOT to go to a movie. And there's even a plug for a second DVD release with a commentary of the theatrical cut on the commentary on the new directors cut, which is utterly crass.; anmd there's an EPK too which somehow didn't make it to the disc either, stranegly enough. Hmmm.

Sleep. Its Work on Monday Morning, y'all.