Le Journal

No one is suggesting the sort of decision Brooklyn made is taken lightly, but support networks and the language of therapy seem to lessen the stingAs we continue to unpack the meaning of the Beckham family feud, I don’t think enough attention has been paid to the roast chicken. Perhaps you were busy having a life in December and missed it. But this week’s explosion by Brooklyn Beckham was the culmination of a chain of events triggered last month when Victoria Beckham, advisedly or otherwise, chucked a like at her son’s video of a roast chicken on Instagram.For some, the takeaway was that Brooklyn’s chicken looked undercooked. For others, it was a reminder that you could draw a face on a balloon and achieve roughly the same level of sentience as Brooklyn in his cooking videos. All of which was to miss the point: that according to the new semiotics of family alienation, Brooklyn’s mother, by liking his post, had crossed a fraught boundary between “NC” (no contact) with her son to “VLC” (very low contact). Had Brooklyn not blocked her and the rest of the family immediately, she may have gone the whole hog and escalated to LC – “low contact” – at which point all bets would’ve been off.Emma Brockes is a Guardian columnistDo you have an opinion on the issues raised in this article? If you would like to submit a response of up to 300 words by email to be considered for publication in our letters section, please click here. Continue reading...

Does your movie call for a golden, diamond-encrusted Furby or replica nuclear missile? The prop master will find one for you – or even make it from scratchThe red and blue pills in The Matrix. The Rosebud sled in Citizen Kane. Marsellus Wallace’s briefcase in Pulp Fiction, contents unknown. The (real) severed horse head in The Godfather. Every sword, gun, wand and lightsaber that has been brandished by an actor on a screen or stage. What do these items have in common? Nothing, except that they are a tiny sample of the staggering range of objects, from the iconic to the instantly forgotten, known as props – or, to use their formal name, “properties”.Props are, properly defined, anything used in a performance that is not part of the set or costumes. Sourcing or fabricating them is the job of a team overseen by the prop master; the term is gender-neutral, although the prim-sounding “prop mistress” is occasionally heard. It’s a massive undertaking, but not one that gets much attention. “It’s nice that you are asking about props, because they’re not really acknowledged,” says Jode Mann, a TV prop master in Los Angeles. Continue reading...

Randy thinks throwing in a line or two lightens the mood. Taylor says it’s an avoidance tactic. You decide who’s out of tune• Find out how to get a disagreement settled or become a jurorHe will throw in lines from songs during serious conversations – it is an avoidance tacticYes I should tone it down, but a lyric can lighten the mood and there’s one for every occasion Continue reading...

Saipan, about Keane’s infamous World Cup row with manager Mick McCarthy, has become a hit film in its native Ireland – as it opens in the UK screenwriter Paul Frasier explains how he aimed to avoid the mistakes of the pastThe best bit of football action in Saipan happens on a tennis court. The forthcoming movie about the schism between Mick McCarthy and Roy Keane that led to the latter departing the 2002 World Cup before it started does not attempt to recreate any of the action from the tournament. In fact, it largely takes place in a decrepit hotel. But we do get one exception: Keane, played by Éanna Hardwicke, practising alone in the grounds. At the back of a court, the sullen, spartan athlete stands as a ball is fired up and over the net towards him. He tracks it with his eyes, opens up his right foot, takes the ball on his instep and kills it dead. And with that, his sporting bona fides are confirmed.Saipan is a movie about masculinity, about men and their egos. It’s also about an era in Irish history; the roaring of the Celtic tiger, where questions of national identity came to the fore. What it’s not, really, is a movie about football. Which might be a canny choice, because while the world’s most popular sport only continues to grow its audience, football’s track record on the big screen is, how shall we say, like Manchester United after Sir Alex. Continue reading...

Carnage, exploding supermodels, Isabella Rossellini … forget the disastrous All’s Fair – Ryan Murphy is back at his best with this tale of a lethal sexually transmitted virus which also makes people beautifulRyan Murphy’s last screen offering was the existentially terrible All’s Fair. It was critically panned, as any show that contains the lines: “He owns, like, all of cosmetics”, “You’re the best lawyers in town – maybe the country!” and a fruit basket “lightly brushed with salmonella and faecal matter”, while somehow managing to bypass humour, camp and brio, deserves to be. It got an unprecedented zero rating on Rotten Tomatoes, a no-stars review here on the grounds that it was so-bad-it-was-bad, and has duly been commissioned for a second series.By that measure, Murphy’s new show is a triumph. The Beauty has a plot, structure, characters that often act, react and speak as real human beings might, a sense of what it’s doing and where it’s going and – whisper it – even a touch of commentary on the state of society today. It’s almost like old American anthology days, when Murphy threw the likes of The People v OJ Simpson, Feud and The Assassination of Gianni Versace at us one after the other; leasing new lives to Sarah Paulson, Jessica Lange and assorted other glorious figures, and having us believe the good times would roll for ever. Continue reading...