Kate Winslet's triumph, lost for words at Downton Abbey, and when Enoch Powell met Bill Haley
?I half-suspect that the main reason people award Oscars, Emmys, the L�gion d'honneur etc to Kate Winslet is simply for the joy of her acceptance speech, the great gushing geyser of delight and gratitude. After all, who wants an actor who merely says: "I am most grateful. Thank you"?
But then she is terribly good. I suspect my wife and I are among the few British people who watched the whole of Mildred Pierce, the Todd Haynes serial on Sky Atlantic, based on James McCain's novel of the Depression. It's about a single mother who makes a fortune, but watches her family life fall apart, largely thanks to her witch of a daughter. Winslet's performance was luminous, and kept us watching through all the Grand Guignol stuff about death and betrayal. The sex didn't hurt either.
We assume that sane actors can play lunatics. What always startles me is the way that slightly bonkers people ? Winslet, Vanessa Redgrave, etc ? can convincingly play normal folk.
?I enjoyed Downton Abbey last weekend too, but I wonder during these costume dramas why it is that they go to endless trouble to make the thing look right, with yellow lines covered in sand, and TV dishes usually kept out of shot. But then they let the dialogue swerve wildly through the ages. In DA someone said "as if!" in the modern sense of "don't be silly". I think that was new in America when I went to live there in 1985.
Perhaps someone will write in and say that Dickens used it in Our Mutual Friend. But I doubt it.
?Going round the Lib Dem conference: "The Tories want to re-establish themselves in Scotland. They're going to rename themselves the "You'll have had yer tea party."
?The conference was held in the Birmingham ICC. This is the most bewildering building I have ever been in. There are straight staircases, curling staircases, halls with random numbers, doors with numbers. It's always packed with lost souls. I finally realised: we were in a drawing by MC Escher, in which the trompe l'oeil means people are constantly trudging up stairs but always remaining on the same floor.
?We went to see Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy the other day, and it is good, if a little slow. If Smiley goes into a house we have to see him walk past several houses on the way, then pause interminably before knocking on the door. If they wanted to make the direct opposite of a James Bond all-action film, they have perhaps over-succeeded.
There is one clich�d scene which I haven't found in the book. When he's exposed, the mole, who is to be sent off to Moscow, says that it's the cricket he'll miss most.
They always say that, in all the many dramas about moles, double agents, third and fourth men. Nobody ever says ruefully: "I suppose what will hurt is not knowing how Millwall are getting on." Or, "at least in Moscow I won't have to pretend I can do the bloody Times crossword. And nobody will ever make me eat Marmite, or Frank Cooper's ghastly thick-cut marmalade. I'll get some decent pickled cabbage for breakfast ?"
?Craig Brown, the humorist, has had the fine idea of writing a book ? One On One ? about true meetings between unexpected people. Such as TS Eliot and the Queen Mother, or Princess Margaret and Peter Cook.
My own experience is recounted in my book, A Long Lunch. It was in a TV green room during the first 1974 election. Enoch Powell was about to explain why he wanted people to vote Labour (they had promised a referendum on what was then called the Common Market). So was Bill Haley, the original rock and roller, making what would be his final British tour. He was wearing a multicoloured jacket which looked like the picture when your television goes horribly wrong. Enoch was in his normal dark suit.
An embarrassed young researcher had to introduce them. "Pleased ter meet'cher, Mr Pole!" said Bill Haley, who clearly had no idea who Enoch was.
Enoch looked at him with interest and respect. "And I am pleased to meet you. I have always wanted to meet you!" he said, and I had a sudden vision of Powell in a drape jacket, crepe soled shoes and a DA haircut, standing by the juke box with a roll-up, tapping his feet to See You Later, Alligator.
?From the Times obituary of Archduke Felix of Austria, who has died at the age of 95: "Felix Friedrich August Maria vom Siege Franz Joseph Peter Karl Anton Robert Otto Pius Michael Benedikt Sebastian Ignatius Marcus d'Aviano of Habsburg-Lorraine ? was named after his uncle Felix."
His mother had eight children, but presumably had to stop when they ran out of names.
?Thanks for so very many letters and emails about our late cat, and all the helpful advice. We didn't get a mature mog to replace her, largely because we wanted a pet who wouldn't remind us of the one who died, so we have acquired an otherwise unwanted cross-breed kitten who is, you won't be surprised to learn, utterly delightful and treats the house as if it were the world's most thrilling adventure playground.
But she took some getting. Nowadays you have to apply, even to ordinary members of the kitten-owning public, as if to social workers, explaining why you would offer the perfect home and be the perfect owners. Visiting the kitten's first home and meeting the owners is the equivalent of an Oxford viva.
?Linda Denidni bought a can of Morrison's own-brand hair mousse. "Not for emergency use," it said on the side. And many people have sent in the free packet of wildflower seeds given away with the Observer. At the bottom of the pack it reads, inexplicably, "please drink responsibly".
Source: http://www.guardian.co.uk/theguardian/2011/sep/23/simon-hoggart-kate-winslet-oscars
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