The King's Speech – review | Film | The Observer

For a change, let’s link to a review by a critic who isn’t Roger Ebert. The subject matter is so terribly British, after all:

The social and political background, acutely observed and carefully woven into the film’s fabric, is the Depression at home, the rise of fascism abroad, and the arrival of the mass media as a major force in our lives. Central to the dramatic action are four crucial incidents: the death in 1936 of George V, the first monarch to address his subjects via the radio; the accession to the throne of his eldest son as Edward VIII and his almost immediate abdication in order to marry American double divorcee Wallis Simpson; the crowning of his successor, George VI; and finally, in 1939, the outbreak of a war for which the king and queen became figureheads of immeasurable national significance alongside their prime minister, Winston Churchill.

Although the film involves a man overcoming a serious disability, it is neither triumphalist nor sentimental. Its themes are courage (where it comes from, how it is used), responsibility, and the necessity to place duty above personal pleasure or contentment – the subjects, in fact, of such enduringly popular movies as Casablanca and High Noon. In this sense, The King’s Speech is an altogether more significant and ambitious work than Stephen Frears’s admirable The Queen of 2006 and far transcends any political arguments about royalty and republicanism.

There’s so much to enjoy about this film; the script, the acting, the lavish period setting. The one fly in the ointment is, as French points out in his review, the ridiculous Churchill impersonation by Timothy Spall. He’s all quivering jowls and wheezy diction, like a hot-air balloon in an ill-fitting suit.

Other than that; bravo old chap!

We sold our eco-dream to Timberland - Times Online

What happens when a small business is gobbled up by a bigger one?

It’s all sunshine and empty beaches when I visit Cardigan, in West Wales, to meet David and Clare Hieatt, the husband-and-wife team behind the cult outdoors and sports clothing company Howies.

Seven years ago, they left highly paid advertising jobs in London to create a company that sells surfer-cool gear that has the lowest possible impact on the environment. Now, their indie company, which features regularly in lists of Britain’s coolest, is part of the American clothing giant Timberland.

You could call it “Pret A Manger syndrome” - idealistic entrepreneurs set up an ethical company, pour in all their time, cash and energy, but ultimately need the funds and backing of big business. Can they sustain the ethical dream or does it turn into a nightmare? Is it selling out or selling in?

Objectively speaking, the relationship (which dates back to 2007) makes a lot of sense. Both are outdoorsy brands, with clothes that combine functionality with fashion.

But it blows a hole in Howies’ carefully-crafted image as a small company producing ethical goods. Not when you’re part of a multinational conglomerate that uses economies of scale to drive their costs down and their profits up.

EDIT: Well well. Co-founder David Hieatt left the company in October 2009. He announced it on his Twitter account, so it must be true. Guess the Timberland ownership didn’t work out to his satisfaction.

BBC News - Are beach huts the new penthouses?

Folks are going ga-ga for a shed by the seaside:

Beach huts in Scarborough are fetching £35,000, the same price as some one-bedroom flats in the town. So what do you get for your money, and why is the market for beach huts so buoyant?

Having spent a glorious few days in a beach hut in Dorset, it’s easy to see the appeal. Sand, sea and sunshine, together with a luxury abode to stash your goodies. Perfect for a weekend getaway.

Naughty by nature: Why has Britain become so rude? - Features, Art - The Independent

Worth reading the whole thing, but the answer in a nutshell:

That’s why we’re such rude people. It’s all an atavistic throwback. The template for modern, piss-taking, toss-potting man was set nearly 300 years ago, by Hogarth in art and Swift in literature. Revolting close-ups of gargantuan bosoms and bottoms, a cavalcade of gurning faces of the greedy, the lusty and the deranged – all followed the revelations of corrupt human nature in The Rake’s Progress and the visit to Brobdignag in Gulliver’s Travels. A fascination with portraying excrement and genitalia, as a counterblast to gentility and civilisation, grew in this period and lives today in the works of Young British Artists. And a chronic, ungovernable urge to say the unsayable, push the boat out, see how far you can bend the rules of behaviour, in a country with a toothless monarchy and a government made of people like yourself – that’s what has given us our unsavoury but vivid identity.