WALL-E and Johnny 5: Not entirely dissimilar

Johnny 5 and WALL-E

I saw the new Pixar robot movie WALL-E the other day and can't speak too highly of it (it's out next Thursday in the UK). It is by far the most imaginative animation movie I have seen in a long time. One thing however intrigues me. Director-writer Andrew Stanton is making a big deal of how a pair of binoculars inspired the look of his droid, as if the look is a total original. He clearly could not have seen the Short Circuit movies starring Johnny 5. There are differences: WALL-E is squat while Johnny's leaner in the torso, etc etc. But I should say the binoculars head is a straight, er, homage.

PS - I love Peter Gabriel's Down to Earth soundtrack to WALL-E. Have a listen.

The Madeleine Foundation: A public nuisance

The Madeleine Foundation bows to McCanns and Carter-Ruck - click here (Nov 18 2009)

Last September I posted an item about Tony Bennett - not to be confused with the crooner - who'd attached himself to Terry Lubbock's campaign over the death of his son Stuart Lubbock against the entertainer Michael Barrymore, before he was detached. Bennett was suspected of a homophobic mindset given his odd interest in deaths which may have arisen from homosexual activity.

Now I see that back in January Bennett, described as a retired solicitor, turned his interest to Madeleine McCann and set up something called The Madeleine Foundation. It is campaigning for the prosecution of the McCanns "for abandoning their children six nights in a row [in Portugal]" and aiming to "encourage" the McCanns and their friends "to tell the truth" about Madeleine's disappearance. Last year, Bennett tried unsuccessfully to launch a private prosecution against the McCanns, only to be told by magistrates in Leicester that they had no jurisdiction over the case, because Madeleine disappeared in Portugal.

The "Foundation" (or Bennett, more to the point) adds: "The case of the disappearance of Madeleine McCann has many parallels with other cases where families have cried 'abduction' when their infant child has gone missing - only for us all to find out later that the child has died at the hands of the parents, whether accidentally, negligently or intentionally." It/he concludes: "There is precious little evidence of an abduction."

If that is not a highly defamatory statement I don't know what is. His reason for saying this is not based on any incriminating evidence against the McCanns. He simply has developed a prejudice: if a child goes missing then the parents must be to blame.

This "Foundation" asks members to pay £10 a year and is described by Bennett as an "unincorporated association". It certainly is not a "fund" - as the Telegraph thinks - since it would have to be registered as a company (and it is not). Nor is it a charity.

Bennett is approaching his latest obsession in much the same way as he did Barrymore. No new evidence is adduced - he just demands an inquest, based on dreamt-up questions, and imputes baseless criminal activity to his targets in his media interviews and pronouncements. Why Bennett feels impelled to persecute individuals who have already suffered a tragedy is quite beyond my understanding.

Just as baffling are the morons, bigots and loafers who are signing up to Bennett's bullying members' club.

Finding Madeleine

Honfest, John Waters and a woman called Lois

John Waters and and a Lois blogstar

I recently visited Baltimore and among its delights was Honfest, an annual street celebration of all things Hairspray: I've never seen so many women determined to look like transexuals in their Edna specs, blonde beehives and pink apparel. Naturally I joined in and one day I may publish the pics.

This of course is the land of John Waters, director of the seminal 1988 Hairspray movie, starring Divine and Ricki Lake, though I prefer Waters' Pink Flamingos and Hag in a Black Leather Jacket.

Now a delightful woman in Baltimore called Lois has written to me - her blog offers a vibrant glimpse of this cultural phenomenon, Honfest; and it turns out Waters and Lois are acquainted. Here's her letter and links ...

Hi, Madame Arcati!

Sounds like you've just got a taste of what there is to know about Baltimore! If you'd like the full meal, come visit my blog: "Lois' Life as a Sitcom: The Baltimore Blogshow!" http://www.loislife.com/.

I've got a GREAT picture of some "Hons" from this last Honfest, come see! And if you've not heard of Trixie Little & the Evil Hate Monkey, you really don't know nothin' 'bout Baltimore yet!

They're in my blog too, Episode 4: http://www.loislife.com/2008/02/episode-4-lois-finds-love-at-ottobar.html. And some great pics up of some of my blogstars, including Trixie and Monkey (John Waters too); on my MySpace, come friend me! www.myspace.com/loislife.

Cheers! Lois.

Mark Ronson and the readies

I hear the fabulous Mark Ronson picked up £50K for his Zoo8 Fest gig - paid all in cash. Other stars await payment.

Rupert Everett - the penis (part 2)

Duncan Fallowell has furnished Arcati with this brooding image of Rupert Everett: experts in the field will have to advise on any similarity between the cock on display here and in the previous posting.

Do please continue to contribute to the death penalty debate.

Rupert Everett - is this his penis?

Darling Duncan Fallowell - whom I suspect to be thanatophobic - does not like Arcati's demand for the restoration of the death penalty for crazed, blood-soaked, machete-wielding homicidal maniacs (Ronald Reagan had the right idea, the poppet) and demands that I find a cock shot of Wimbledon champion Rafael Nadal instead.

This is beyond my wit, even beyond my PhotoShop wit (ie bovvered!) so in the nick of time a darling Arcati fan sends me a shot of Rupert Everett's funny looking dick, supposedly from a movie called Cemetery Man (or Dellamorte Dellamore). This hideous pink-hued sight leads me to wonder whether the "my-tooth-was-chipped-on-Rupe's-cock-ring" story told recently on this site is entirely true. Perhaps the teller of this tale will get in touch and explain him- or herself to my vast army of movie crotch-gawpers.

If Rupert's reading this and wishes us to know that this cock is not, nor has ever been, his then of course I shall take it down and store it in my database for posterity.

The death penalty: I have run out of excuses

Novelist and publisher Susan Hill has responded to this posting in comments.

After life-long opposition to the death penalty I am now drawn to the idea that it is possible to forfeit your right to life at the hands of the state. Even when my close friend, the writer Robert Tewdwr Moss was murdered back in '96 I did not think his two killers should be executed: the state should never be given such power, and I thought of the spiritual repercussions - which either you believe in or you don't. Every day it is possible to read of yet another criminal outrage here and abroad. But the recent pornographic murder of the two French students in London persuades me that in very, very rare circumstances convicted killers ought to die at our hands.

It would be for the prosecution to bring a special application for the death penalty after conviction - the onus would be on it to adduce peculiarly cruel and obscene factors in the case: it must be for lawyers to define what amounts to peculiar cruelty and obscenity since the premeditated taking of life in the first place is the ultimate cruelty. Such factors would tend to reflect on the nature of the killer - on whether, for example, he or she demonstrated an especial malignancy, an enduring hostility beyond psychiatric treatment. The argument that we should not countenance execution for fear of a miscarriage of justice does not work for me anymore: no system is infallible; justice never was. We do not cease to fly because of the very rare plane disaster.

Against this, some will point out that Barry George is currently appealing his conviction for the murder of Jill Dando. Would he not now be hanged if I had my way? Under my proposal he would not face execution: it would not be enough to show that he acted in cold blood or that the victim was a much-loved TV personality. But my view might be different if Dando's killer was a serial professional one, as I suspect. (Incidentally, have you noticed how the press made a big deal of the appeal case against him - front-page headlines about what was found at his home - a loner - the usual crap - but now relegate his side of things to a few paragraphs? That's the press for you, hanging judges all, always prejudiced)

Robert's killers will be out in 2011, probably. He was beaten up for no good reason, tied up and gagged, and left to die slowly by choking. No doubt the psychos' loving families are counting the days.

Oh, and Madame Arcati is 2 today

I was born on the 4th of July.

Mamma Mia! Aren't the stars a bit old?

A rather breathless week, not that I propose to turn this blog into a personal confessional in the hope of picking up a diary book deal, dearies. If you're a publisher you can stick your contract up your virgin asshole. No one's telling me what life to live for demographic purposes.

I attended my first movie press conference in yonks, Mamma Mia!'s, at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel, formerly the Hyde Park Hotel, opposite Harvey Nicks. To get to the hotel it's best to have suicidal tendencies as the access road is dug up and barriered off and no one has thought to impose any safety regime whatsoever for pedestrian crossers: at the nearby junction you're faced with traffic in all directions, more barriers and the horrible sights of buttock cleavage of bejeaned labourers loafing about. Ever played chicken? If not, avoid.

Meryl Streep is 59 and looks 45 in the flesh, and 54 in the movie. Pierce Brosnan is 55 and looks, well, a handsome 55: he has a mature aura and is rather fractious when not selling movies. Colin Firth is 47 and with that half-hearted beard of his (not all men can grow a credible beard) he looks 49. He's funny and droll, though, and given to comic-pompous locution. Meryl wore her blonde locks in a simple ponytail, wore crystal ear studs and opted for a safe black ensemble. God, she's such a nice genius: she certainly appeals to my inner lesbian.

Arcati readers will know that I have an interest in agesim. And so while the stars' auto-anecdotes about shooting the fantastic Mamma Mia! movie were of little interest to me - I had forgotten that Meryl has a substantial musical theatre background - I was struck by one simple fact. While most of the attending journalists were about 25 - there was even a boy hack there no more than aged 14 - the major stars (aside from the teen draws like Dominic Cooper) were in their 40s and 50s (Meryl's 60 next June 22). In the film in their Greek idyll they dance, do stunts, sing their hearts out: you don't think about their age.

But consider the lilies of journalism and how old they grow quickly - say by the age of 30. The true arts of talent accommodate different ages. Journalism is run by old bastards who stick with the inexperienced and the generally untried. The contrast between thespian aristocracy and juvenile hackery was most striking to me.

Do see the film, it's out next week and is sure to please the Greek Ministry of Tourism.

A response on behalf of the BBC ...

A few recent horror stories on Arcati about the BBC's failure to keep their talent in the loop has elicited this explanation, presumably from a BBC PAYE-person ...

"Can I just say that, as far as I understand it, most of these programmes are made by independent production companies, and then broadcast by the BBC. The Corporation has no direct contact with the participants. It is therefore up to the independent producer to inform participants when a programme is being broadcast."

Fag hag Carole Malone delights in soap porn!

To the London Literature Festival queer party at The Green Carnation club in Greek Street - where Molly Parkin DJs Tuesdays - and the fabby writer Rupert Smith is holding court, educating us on new literary genres of porn. One specialises in placing favourite TV soap characters in filthily pleasurable scenarios - can you imagine Coronation Street's Emily Bishop being DP'd by Ken Barlow and Norris? What a hot pot. And I must bone up on porn featuring disabled people in wheelchairs - this sounds most novel for jaded palates.

Witty Rupert is the cause of much laughter, and laughing loudest is ... The News of the World's Glenda, Carole Malone! There she sits, having waltzed in with the sexually elusive Cleo Roccos, a flame who does not burn. And dancing attendance on the pair are the Telegraph's Andrew Pierce and some other man whom I recognise but cannot name. What a delightful sight Carole is ... her picture byline doesn't do her credit at all.

For more on the festival, which starts July 5 and features Rupert Smith gigs, click here

British Bastard Corporation (3): Susan Hill writes ...

"This is been the way for a long time. About 10 years ago someone said how much they had enjoyed my play on Radio 3 the previous evening.I had waited 20 years for it to be repeated so I could tape it but assumed it never would be. Of course no one let me know."

Susan Hill's new crime novel The Vows of Silence is out now, click here to buy.