Wednesday, 11 November 2015

Name that song

I'm getting really fed up with incredibly wealthy and famous people claiming to have been held back by sexism, ageism and any other ism they feel might suit their cause. Multimillionaire Oscar-winning Reece Weatherspoon has recently waded into the sexism row, claiming to have been held back by a society which claims women aren't allowed to be ambitious. I'm not sure quite how much more successful she'd like to have been. Perhaps she's suggesting that if she were a bloke she'd have won three oscars by now? Witherspoon is now 39, which means she's also started complaining about her age... Here's a little thought, love: if you really think there are no roles for older women in Hollywood, how about you use some of your not-so-tiny fortune to invest in female writers, producers and directors making films which readdress the balance? Whinging is easy. The older I get, the more I realise we're all rushing to claim the world is easier for everyone else, when actually, I think we simply have to acknowledge that this world is pretty tough for everyone! Except rich people who go to public schools... And then the world is quite tough for them because they grow up wanting nothing, which brings its own kind of misery.

NB - I have just spoken to a few friends who are closer to the world of Hollywood than I am. They assure me that Reece Weatherspoon doesn't just have a point, but she's also invested a huge amount of money in the search for female talent... So actually, quite a lot of that previous paragraph is a bit of a nonsense, which forces me to immediately eat my words... Especially the bit where I call her "love"... Although I call men "love" as well, so it's not as patronising as it might read!

It appears that there's presently a lobby to "name our storms," so people in the North of Scotland have started the ball rolling and are currently bracing themselves for storm Abigail. It doesn't sound very good does it? Besides, storms are not hurricanes... And using girl names to describe them (just as we do with hurricanes) strikes me as, not just a little silly, but potentially rather frightening for those who hear Abigail is on its way and panic because they think it must be a storm of epic proportions. If we must name our storms, surely we should be naming them after colours or animals or at least boys names to avoid anyone expecting a terrible disaster? And where does it stop? Will we start naming rain showers? It's just a storm, people... Let's not try to imbue it with anything more than that simply because we don't have anything more exciting.

We had another day of workshopping today, and it was as exhausting as every other day. Lots of singing, a bit of acting, a bit of dance. I think we're getting somewhere, although I wish we had an extra day... For no other reason than because I'm rather enjoying the process, despite the film crew's presence feeling a little intimidating, particularly when you're not too sure what you're doing!

We came home to watch a show about the number ones of the Beatles which the papers reliably informed us featured Benny off of Abba. Turns out it was Bjorn. Still a treat, but can you imagine the uproar if someone had mistaken John for Paul in the Beatles? No, you can't... so don't get your Abbas in a muddle!

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