There Will Be Ham

Hmmm. Whilst There Will Be Blood is undoubtedly entertaining (especially when viewed for free) it would undoubtedly benefit from not having any speaking in it whatsoever. The first ten or fifteen minutes are dialogue-free and the end titles resemble those of a film from the 1930s so it would be but a small step to have such speech as was required presented on cards interposed between shots except for the last couple of scenes set during the time when talkies were becoming the norm. The problem stems from the principal actor's bizarre manner of speaking throughout the film. On the physical side the acting is marvellous (though slightly stagey about the moustache) but the voice has the definite flavour of ham about it; it's a slightly less Eastern version of the strange gravelly bark used for Gangs of New York and whilst there are moments when it is... applic-able... it does stARt to... somewhat GET on one's titsss when it's ALways there, BARKing at you through the SPEAKers for two and an half hours.

In fact, now that I think of it it's starting to remind me of Stephen Fry's voice as used for Melchett and John the mogul. MNnbEEEEERRR - sort of thing. Still, don't let it put you off the film in any way. The music's very good. I didn't stay for the end credits so didn't get to see if the credit for "Mr. Day-Lewis's dialogue coach" was labelled "not applicable".

This lovely cold misty stuff is certainly making up for the excessive warmth last week melting all the lovely snow. Mist has a similar damping, quietening effect on the world and muffles even the shrieking of yahs and bellowing of oaves from the otherwise peaceful Meadows. One sound which did have a peculiarly carrying quality was the clicking of the freewheel of a bicycle. The squeaking of my trainers was probably equally penetrative and slightly more sinister to hear quickly approaching in limited visibility. Were I inclined towards wishing to freak people out I could softly creep up behind someone on my toes then suddenly squeak past them away into the mist, going silent again when just out of the range of visibility and hiding in a tree or something.

Perhaps I could become the vigilante Captain Squelchfoot whose job is to rid the Meadows of miscreants with sufficiently nervous dispositions during times of low-visibility fogginess.