WHY I LOVE || Ashes to Ashes

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Okay, so it’s been a solid few months since I last posted on this blog, but as of today – the 17^th of June, 2016 – I am completely and utterly free from the constraints of the dreaded A2 Levels. That leaves a lot of time to catch up, start and rewatch a number of TV shows. However, I thought I’d begin with writing about one of my absolute favourite shows of all time: BBC One’s Ashes to Ashes.

First released back in 2008, Ashes to Ashes is the sort-of sequel to the incredibly successful Life on Mars, in which a 21^st century police officer (Sam Tyler) is involved in a car crash, goes into a coma and somehow wakes up in the 1970s. Whilst an inarguably amazing and gripping series and a definite must-watch, it is not necessary to understand Ashes to Ashes and I, personally, prefer the latter. Whilst on a similar premise, Ashes explores the life of Detective Inspector Alex Drake (Sam Tyler’s present day psychologist) who is shot in the head by a mysterious figure from her past, who then wakes up in 1981 London. It is there she encounters the people she assumed were just constructs of Sam Tyler’s subconscious: the ‘bullish’ DCI Gene Hunt, the ‘misogynistic’ DS Ray Carling and the ‘cautious’ DC Chris Skelton.

There are a number of reasons why I love this TV show. As an admirer of the police procedural drama as well as the sci-fi genre, Ashes manages to mix both effortlessly, providing a new slant on the crime format we know and love as well as the time-travel related complexities we see mostly only in the likes of Doctor Who. There’s horrendous perms, ridiculous sexist attitudes, barbaric police intimidation – yet you find yourself falling in love with at all and wanting to be part of Fenchurch East CID.  Each of the three series brings bigger and bolder storylines, with the audience seeing this vision of 1980s London through Alex Drake’s eyes, and discovering the truth as she does. And the truth, inevitably, is completely and utterly heartbreaking.

Although, perhaps the most enjoyable part of Ashes are the characters themselves. Alex Drake (played by the flawless Keeley Hawes) is beautiful, mouthy, bossy, intelligent, feisty – she, as the other female lead WPC Shaz Granger says, turns all the jibes she faces into energy, always coming out on top. Her determination in getting herself out of this world and being reunited with her daughter carries through all three series, whilst being admirably stuck to her morals, refusing to sink to corruption and deceit. The chemistry between her and DCI Gene Hunt is fiery yet palpable, as their personality’s battle again and again and again – but they’re a team, taking down the scum of London together. There are so many scenes where you question just how platonic and professional their relation happens to be, and you will understand that totally after seeing episode four and six of series one in particular. Interestingly, Gene Hunt is so different to Alex but then again so similar – they are both defiant, stubborn and headstrong, yet Gene is aggressive in his ideas and unbelievably sexist in his attitudes. A bi-product of a mid-20^th century upbringing, possibly, but that does not stop him putting the others in their place when they dare to question Alex’s authority. He may appear unbreakable on the surface, but Gene is so dependent on Alex and clearly will do anything for her. As Alex puts it, he’s a ‘good, kind, decent man’, despite the ‘Manc Lion’ façade.

Not only great characterisation, but literally everything in Ashes is significant in some way: every camera angle, prop and flashback is placed there for a reason, and watching each episode is like a Where’s Wally as you hunt for clues and answer internal questions. There are sub-plots, tiny visuals and hints interweaved throughout each series, and we (through Alex) keep trying to make connections between them all. It all burns down to one single idea: will Alex ever wake up and get home to her daughter? And whilst not vocalised through Alex herself, you just know what will happen in the end. But somehow, you manage to ignore this heartbreaking undertone and immerse yourself in the eighties lifestyle, with blocky computers and white leather jackets and really, really naff (but sort of great) music. I now am determined to have a ride in the Quattro, drink a whole bottle of red wine in Luigi’s and have Gene Hunt smash a window in order to save me from impending death. This is not an accolade a brandish around recklessly, but Ashes to Ashes is honestly the best show that has ever been made.

This is not a request. It is a demand. Watch this show – watch it all in one day. There are twenty-four episodes and all are amazingly written, acted and filmed, and will honestly leave you obsessed and resorting to the darkest depths of fanfiction.net in reluctance to let the show end for good. You will want to buy a leather jacket and wear blue eye makeup and listen to David Bowie on repeat.

But beware. It will also leave you in tears. As all good shows often do.

Unfortunately, whilst both seasons of Life on Mars are available on Netflix, Ashes does not appear to be on any paid streaming services. You can buy the boxsets on Amazon here.

WHY I LOVE || Doctor Who

If I could pinpoint one television show that has made the biggest impact on me, I would one hundred percent say Doctor Who. The day this show entered my life properly was a very good day indeed, because I have never, ever looked back. Doctor Who is my TV show, the one I will resort back to again and again, and I don’t think that attitude will ever stop for me. I just really, really love Doctor Who. It breaks my heart, cues emotional breakdowns and makes me laugh like no other show will and I’m honestly surprised that I’ve never thought to project that love into words.

After the recent series nine finale, I’d decided to watch all the episodes again from 2005 onwards, to fulfil that gaping hole that’s left when your favourite show goes back on hiatus. That meant raking through my endless DVD collection for series one and rewatching the first episode since the reboot again – Rose. But first, I’m going to tell you how my love for this ridiculous TV show actually began.

To the surprise of quite a lot of people who know me well, I didn’t actually begin as a fan. In fact, I was mostly the opposite. Back in 2005 when the show came back, I was only about seven or eight, and I utterly hated it. I remember distinctly that the first episode I actually came across – a year later – was Rise of the Cybermen and The Age of Steel, where the monotonous pounding of steel literally haunted my dreams and I couldn’t sleep for a week. That didn’t mean I gave up, though, oh no – I persisted with The Idiot’s Lantern, but the first time one of the faces disappeared I was straight behind the sofa with a chilling image in my head. The Impossible Planet was possibly the last straw. The minute Tobias Zed turned round with those red eyes and symbols scrawled over his face I stopped watching it. For four years.

Admittedly, that was a serious error on my behalf. Those four years were an absolute Golden Age for NewWho. Looking back now, I wish I had seen it through and persisted – but at eight years old I could not comprehend the beautiful relationships, the stunning cinematography and heartbreaking storylines as I can as an eighteen year old. All I saw were faceless people and heard chilling whispers of don’t turn around.

I guess Doctor Who fulfilled its purpose for me. A kid, sat behind the sofa, squealing at any given moment. That’s the kind of image I see whenever anyone describes watching Classic Who as a child. The thing was I got so scared that my parents wouldn’t let me watch it again and I gradually lost interest.

But, for some reason back in 2010, I decided to start again. And I am so glad that I did.

The first episode I properly watched from start to finish was Matt Smith’s first entrance as the Doctor in The Eleventh Hour. I was about thirteen and for the first time, I didn’t see Doctor Who as a show that was just scary anymore. I watched Doctor Who as a show about a madman with a blue police box, travelling through time and space with a companion or two and saving planets and defeating villains and it just being truly magical. Up until that moment, where I sat and watched the Doctor and Amy run around a hospital whilst some wacky alien thing was trying to conquer them, I hadn’t found my show. And as soon as the credits rolled, I had.

Now, it’s 2016. Six years I’ve been ridiculously addicted to this show: I’ve been to a cinema screening of the 50^th anniversary, watched the regeneration of the eleventh into the twelfth, seen the loss of the Ponds as well as Clara Oswald, went back and cried profusely over Doomsday and collected a very nerdy selection of action figures. I’ve come to the conclusion that David Tennant is most definitely my Doctor and that I just can’t pick a favourite companion no matter how many times I change my mind.

I am probably a bit late on the Doctor Who bandwagon. But with a show as long-running and highly regarded as Who, I don’t think there’s a time where it’s too late to be a fan. All I know is that I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving this ludicrous show and it’s even more ludicrous characters, and even though there are moments where I almost lose my faith it always manages to win me back.

So, here’s to another six years of being a fanatic, I guess. Probably more than that. Because when you run with the Doctor, it feels like it’ll never end.

FILMS || March-May 2015

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Unfortunately A Levels are being a bitch at the moment so I've been neglecting this blog for a considerable amount of months now - but that's not to say that I haven't been procrastinating revising for said exams. The past three months have been a variation of slightly disappointing sequels, over-hyped Disney films and eye-opening (and actually life changing) TV shows for me, so I thought I'd give a brief overview of what I've loved, disliked and absolutely despised from the media recently.

FILMS

Over the past three months, I've been to cinema a number of times, pretty much all of the visits to see sequels. Back in March I saw the second film in the Divergent trilogy, Insurgent, which did indeed live up to my expectations and despite changing the plot beyond belief, I thought it a worthy follow-up to the first film in the series. More recently, I've seen Avengers: Age of Ultron, Pitch Perfect 2, Mad Max: Fury Road and The Duff. Even though I did enjoy the second Avengers film and all it's controversial revelations, it did not live up to the high standard created by the first one; and a similar thing could be said for the Pitch Perfect sequel. Pitch Perfect is one of my favourite films and I've been anticipating the second for years, and whilst it was more openly funny than the first (got to thank Rebel Wilson and Adam Devine for that one) the plot was sketchy and the music not as good or memorable. I hope for the life of me that there isn't another film in the series because I feel it would be stretching the franchise to its limit and really tarnish the success of the first film.

I'd never seen a Mad Max film before Fury Road, but I'd heard excellent things about the latest addition to the series and dragged my dad along to a viewing. It was gruesome, exhilarating and continuously brutal in the best possible way: the virtually all female cast (and a flawless Charlize Theron) made the film a non-stop feminist thriller which gripped me from beginning to end. You'd have to have a strong stomach to see the full thing in 3D, though: 2D had me gripping on the arms of my seat with the weight and projection of the explosions and the extent of the gore. On the flip side, The Duff was a predictable yet mildly enjoyable stereotypical teen rom-com which I saw on my sister's request. There was no way that the male lead was still in high school and you could tell the conclusion from the opening few scenes, but the main protagonist, Bianca, was relatable and funny and it was by no means the worst film I've seen aimed at the teenage demographic. 

Outside of the cinema, I've been trawling through YouTube for small-scale production British movies, and I came across two little comedies: Hotel! (2001) and Death at a Funeral (2007), which were both so preposterously absurd that I couldn't help but enjoy them. Hotel! has, to a modern audience, a stellar cast: Peter Capaldi, Paul McGann and Keeley Hawes all star in this weird, ridiculous and frankly stupid one-hour film, full to the brim with visual gags and incongruous circumstances and odd, one-dimensional characters. Saying that, it had me laughing all the way through, purely because of how farcical every single moment was (there is a scene, discussing Peter Capaldi's character's divorce, that had me in stitches for hours). Death at a Funeral followed a similarly delightfully unrealistic plot, this time starring Matthew MacFadyen and Rupert Graves as the main characters, as well as that guy we all know who used to be in the BT adverts. MacFadyen's portrayal of the "family disappointment" who tries so hard not to be melted my heart  and the whole "valium" situation had me snorting - it's definitely worth a watch, even if it's just stare adoringly at Matthew MacFadyen or mumble under your breath how Rupert Graves seems to appear in literally everything you've ever watched.

That concludes my brief round up: I hope to review in full a few of these and this isn't the full extent of my film endeavours for the past few months, so I'll get back to that. Hope you enjoyed!

LINKS:

If you're interested, you can find Hotel! here and Death at a Funeral here.

FOUR: A DIVERGENT COLLECTION || Review

Title: Four: A Divergent Collection

Author: Veronica Roth

Rating: 7/10

I'm a massive fan of the Divergent trilogy (I am so hyped for seeing the Insurgent movie this month) so buying this book after reading Divergent, Insurgent and Allegiant was a definite must for me. Whereas the trilogy is all from the female protagonist's, Tris, point of view, this collection of short stories is all from the point of view of Four (or Tobias). It also includes three exclusive scenes set during Divergent which really were a treat to read.

The first three stories - The Transfer, The Initiate and The Son - are all about Four pre-Divergent and pre-Tris, so it's really interesting yet entertaining to get a grasp on his personality and actions before he became under the influence of Tris. The Transfer details Four's movement from Abnegation to Dauntless; The Initiate while enduring his training to vie for a high position in Dauntless and The Son his first few months in Dauntless whilst forging contact with his mother, Evelyn, after years apart. All three of these stories are great in their own right - credit to Veronica Roth - but my favourite has to be The Transfer, as it makes you understand why Four is the way he is and why he makes his decision to leave his faction behind and join Dauntless, despite the result of his Aptitude test. The first story is essentially Tobias choosing to free himself from the bounds Abnegation has set from him as well as his cruel father, Marcus. You sympathise for him yet condemn him at the same time. It really made me question the Four I was introduced to in my first reading of Divergent and how his love and trust in Tris is ultimately what frees him, not the choices he has made in the past.

This leads me on to the fourth story, The Traitor, set during Tris's initiation into Dauntless: around the time of the second stage of training (the fear simulations). It was refreshing to see Tobias falling in love with Tris and not the other way round, especially with the knowledge given during the first three stories and how hard it was for Tobias to learn to trust and care for people. The scene where Tobias invites Tris into his own fear landscape is especially refreshing seen from Tobias's point of view. It gives more depth to Tobias and his motives - we know Tris enough already, so it's great to see Tobias face his fears directly.

This collection of stories also explores other characters in more depth: Eric, who is just as much a dickhead during initiation as he is during the rest of the books; Max's arrogance and willingness to change Dauntless values from courageousness to brutality, and Shauna and Zeke. Eric's bitterness and cruelty seems more justified through this book, yet he's still a despicable human being. However, Eric's brutal tendencies only do more to highlight how, even though damaged and broken, Tobias is the true hero of the book. He does stupid things and lashes out, but he's kindhearted and strong-willed despite all the shit Marcus put him through.

Plus, the three extra scenes at the end provide a much needed closure after reading Allegiant. Especially 'First jumper--Tris!', as all I've wanted to know was what Four first thought when he saw Tris land in the net. If you've read Divergent I can guess that's probably been on your mind too. Who doesn't like a dystopian love story. It definitely reminded me of the story I've been so loyal to for over a year now and, trust me, you need that reminder. You'll know what I mean if you've read Allegiant.

Even though this is just a selection of shorts, which isn't as outrightly exciting and adrenaline-pumping as the Divergent trilogy - there isn't as much action, more just questions brought up in the trilogy that need answering - I still really enjoyed it, and it reminded me how much I just love this collection of books. Tobias and Tris's love story has captivated me from the beginning as well as the faction system and the universe the stories are set in. If you've read Divergent - I don't think it's necessary to have read Insurgent or Allegiant to read this, although you might want to - this is a definite must. If you love the story as much as I do, I'll guarantee you'll love this.

If you haven't already, give it a try. If you have, do message me and tell me your thoughts. It would be interesting to hear what anyone else has to say about it.

For the Love of Cupcakes - Prologue

For the Love of Cupcakes: Prologue

(I’m so happy to share this. This is the first “chapter” of my new novel, For the Love of Cupcakes. Hope you enjoy.)

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                                                               PROLOGUE

       Cake Batter

For as long as I could remember, I’d always believed there wasn’t a problem a good, proper cupcake couldn’t fix. This ridiculous ideology was all my mum’s fault, of course: when I was younger and I’d come home from school with tears in my eyes over some petty thing like a stolen pencil or Kirsty McGregor’s new sparkly shoes (which I was sure violated the school uniform code) my mum would give me a chocolate-chip muffin with a swirl of buttercream on the top and suddenly things would be okay again. As my teeth sank into the soft sponge and vanilla icing engulfed my taste buds, Kirsty McGregor’s stupid flashy shoes would be a distant memory and my favourite spotty pencil forgotten. This cake orientated attitude continued right through my teenage years—fallouts with supposed ‘friends’, secondary school related humiliation, finding out the boy a year above you’ve had a crush on for like, two weeks, is dating some older and prettier girl. My mum would justknow and suddenly, out of nowhere, a strawberry shortcake cupcake would appear on my desk and it was like the totally gorgeous potential soul-mate boy in the year above never existed at all.

It wasn’t until about nine months ago that I realised that some problems couldn’t be fixed with rainbow sprinkles and caramel swirls. I suppose I’d never experienced true heartbreak and pain until that day: suddenly cake didn’t seem like the solution to what I was feeling anymore. I couldn’t just forget and move on; it was a constant, consuming numbness in the pit of my stomach that refused to be shaken off like fake friends and embarrassing moments. Cupcakes became a reminder rather than a cure.

However, nine months on—cupcakes kind of became a legacy.

All mum ever wanted to do was open a cupcake shop. Just a small, cosy place in the centre of town littered with odd tables and chairs and, of course, a massive counter that stretched across the back wall overflowing with her homemade bakes. It was the subject of my bedtime stories when I was little: how she’d work behind the counter, greeting the customers, while I’d apply swirly icing and edible petals and frosting figurines to the orders and pack them away in little white boxes. Dad would be in charge of the ovens (we’d giggle over how he’d have to wear a bright pink apron—the uniform had to be pink, of course) and how my older brother Johnny would wait on the tables, imagining the flush on his cheeks as a pretty girl walked by the massive glass windows at the front. If all the cakes weren’t sold by the end of the day we’d be able to take all of them back home with us and have them for supper, with massive scoops of ice cream and frosted strawberries until all of them were gone and not a crumb remained. It was an idea that fuelled my childhood, but of course stupid reality and school and my parents actual jobs got in the way, leaving my mum’s cupcakes as just a hobby with no way forwards. That was okay, back then, because we had days and weeks and months and years to think about it and say maybe one day. It was when the possibility of years turned into nothing that my whole family was slapped painfully, harshly and abruptly with the knowledge that life can be tragically cut short with your dreams yet to be fulfilled. It was cruel and it was unfair and it’s something I’ll never forgive the vastness of the universe for but it was my first experience of the harshness of reality which, maybe, I’ll learn to accept one day.

I don’t think I’d ever learn to forgive and accept myself for it, though.

It may have been out of guilt, or even regret, more likely love—but it took my mother’s death to finally make her dream a reality. Even though my outlook on reality was a lot more bitter and unforgiving than it was before, I could tell that dad sort of hoped that the sugariness of my all-time favourite dessert would sweeten my perception of the world. Maybe it would, maybe the pastel colours of the walls and the heavenly smell of cake batter would banish my new found cynicism; or maybe they would just be a constant reminder of what I’d lost and never forget. A constant jab poking away in the back of my brain saying this all happened because of you. I was counting on the latter: things were too different now to ever go back to the way things were. I was a completely altered person.

Despite what I thought about my dad’s new business venture, though, I had no choice but to move away from my home of Hampstead to the coastal town of Whitley Bay where Cherry on Top café stood between a vintage jewellery shop and a newsagents, making all other shops in the street look demure in comparison. It was sickening, how similar it looked to my mum’s heavily annotated blueprints, with its big glass windows jutting out into the street and newly panelled wood floor and massive Perspex counter swallowing the back wall. The first time I saw it properly I didn’t leave the house again for four days because it all felt too real. The only reason I came out again was because I couldn’t stand hearing my dad crying about my attitude.

And, now, my dad had somehow forced me into a sickly pale pink apron, and I’d become an employee at the shop I could hardly bare glancing at. It would be good for my confidence, he’d said, like actually interacting with people I had no interest in actually talking to would make me feel less like sitting in the dark with my headphones on, blasting myself to oblivion for a few hours. I had no desire to talk to anybody ever, not anymore. But I accepted the job in the hope it would stop my dad from crying over me.

The job was the least of my problems, in the end. I could cope making idle, meaningless small talk with the customers who I barely needed to make eye contact with for more than two seconds. I couldn’t cope with the addition of Matthew Fitzpatrick into my life; who changed, improved and ruined my existence all at the same time.

I was broken before I met Matt, like the shattered glass in his beat-up telescope and snapped G string on his acoustic guitar. But I was even more broken after he left. Turns out I’m the one problem not even a sticky-toffee cupcake could fix.

Maybe.

BEGIN AGAIN || Review

Begin Again Review: By Hannah

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Film: Begin Again

Starring: Mark Ruffalo, Keira Knightley, James Corden, Hailee Steinfield, Adam Levine

Directed and Written: John Carney

Imdb synopsis: A chance encounter between a disgraced music-business executive and a young singer-songwriter new to Manhattan turns into a promising collaboration between the two talents.

My rating: 8/10

This review is not 100% spoiler free. 

I’d been looking forward to seeing this film for a very long time and I am very, very glad that I finally got round to it. I knew from the premise (and the fact it’s directed by John Carney, who directed Once, probably my favourite musical ever) that this film would be something that I’d like. Incidentally, I wasn’t wrong. It was kind of beautiful, even if I am still left questioning if Keira Knightley can actually sing or not. 

The movie follows a drunken, messed-up music exec Dan (Ruffalo) and feisty, heart-broken songwriter Gretta (Knightley) and how they both use their talents to produce an album, using the streets of New York as their recording studio. Dan is divorced and constantly wandering the streets in various states of drunkenness with no money like that I’m having an alcohol-fuelled breakdown cliché we all know so well. He’s also got a daughter Violet (Steinfield) who he’s inadvertently fucked up because of his drinking, causing her to dress like she’s easy and become slightly sociopathic. Gretta, on the other hand, is fresh out of a relationship (by fresh, I mean when the film starts, she’s literally just got out of it) after her bastard singer boyfriend Dave (Levine – who I do not find sexy at all, despite what anyone says) plays her a song which she knows is for someone else. It’s on one night at some dingy bar in New York City that Dan and Gretta meet, and Dan has some “drunk magic powers” which means he can make arrangements in his head and Gretta is the next sensation he’s been looking for his whole career.

There are some stunning scenes in the movie – like when Dan and Gretta wander New York City listening to the same iPod, and you can tell they’re falling in love with the way they make each other feel. How the homeless vibe coming off Dan is actually kind of endearing: how you’re seeing a man falling apart and slowly piecing himself back together again because of music (and Gretta). It’s a film about beginning again, wiping the slate clean. And you definitely get that message by the end of the movie.

But for me, it’s the music that makes the movie. Even though the storyline is funny and absorbing and heartbreaking and beautiful, the music is what brings all the scenes together and forges and breaks relationships. Knightley’s voice is what you could call an “acquired taste” that not everyone will like – it’s raspy and sweet, but questionable – yet it undeniably fits the songs. Gretta and Dave’s breakdown is shown completely through music, him selling himself out with poppy tunes that have lost their meanings while she stays loyal to original lyrics (and, thank God, stays loyal to herself). The soundtrack is definitely worth a download.

I think I would watch Begin Again more than once and still enjoy the story. I’m a romantic at heart, therefore the ending doesn’t quite match with what I wanted out the film, but it still seems fitting. The story is unique (despite the wandering drunk stereotype) and the tender moments between Dan and Gretta give you goose-bumps. I’d say it’s a story about unconditional love, music, family and never selling yourself short. And, of course, it’s about the endless possibilities that only New York can offer and how it can bring people together.

Watch this film. Please? I can guarantee you’ll enjoy it.

Hello! Welcome to my blog!

Hi, I'm Hannah, and I'm 17 and from the UK. I'm currently in sixth form, studying English literature, English language, history and geography and I want nothing more than to be a writer.

I write a lot and watch a lot of movies. I thought a blog would be a good idea to showcase some of the stuff I'v written and review any of the movies/TV I've watched. I'm quite new to the whole blogging thing so if you wanted to follow for a follow or something like that it would be pretty cool. 

In regards to TV, I'm a big Doctor Who fan but I also like Sherlock and a lot of BBC sitcoms. My favourite film is probably Pitch Perfect because I'm a massive Anna Kendrick fan. I think I've watched everything with her in at least twice. Music wise, my interests are apparently "acoustic and folk" which I'd consider to be pretty accurate: I love Little Comets, the 1975, Kodaline and... musicals. Yeah. 

So, hope you enjoy the stuff I put up here. Don't hesitate to comment either. 

Hannah x