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Collateral

With Carey Mulligan, Nathaniel Martello-White, Billie Piper, John Simm and loads of others.

Don’t expect a prolongued untangling of a strong beginning. This is a miniseries. With a proper start, I’d say.
After delivering a pizza, a courier is killed in the streets. Given that the courier wasn’t the one that was originally supposed to deliver the pizza, the question starts with ‘was it an aimed attack at this particular delivery guy?’
DI Kip Glaspie, nicely portrayed by Carey Mulligan, is about to set her teeth in it, helped by Nathan Bilk and the rest of the team.

I think Kip Glaspie is supposed to be portrayed quite human and resolute, but somehow, the script doesn’t give Mulligan much to go with, it seems. Because I keep seeing it. Her humanitary approach I like, but the lines she has to deal with at times are…a bit soft. Her colleagues and her boss keep being angry with her, but for no real reason. In the end I’d even say that her boss is just jealous because she got a break through. I’ve never seen someone in a police department act in such a way to be fair.
David Mars (played by John Simms, who resembles Tony Cowards -the comedian- in a way that I had to look twice if it wasn’t him??) is the troubled politician, who can’t get a grip on either his political life or his ex-wife. The way he handles his home situation is quite poorly. I can’t imagine a father truly doing that. But that might be me?

The camera work is a funny one. Clearly someone who has noticed that it adds a bit of drama when you zoom in on a small detail; a drop of rain on a window, the corner of a closet, a handle, etc.
What they failed to notice is that this works best if you first see that ‘normal’ object/thing, then go to the scene. Not end with it. Not every single time. Once, twice, then a change in that, fine. Don’t overdo it.
The music each episode starts with is quite uplifting, gets you in a cheery mood, oddly. It’s something different every time, and usually a car radio playing.

The tension on the army base is, just like the rest of the tension in the series: it’s not bad, but it doesn’t hold up. You sort of expect more from the story, and in the entire series, that doesn’t happen. Not too strange as it’s a miniseries, but with Netflix being so big, you sort of expect it to be dragged over like 3 or 4 episodes. Then again, that’s the entire stretch of the series…

All in all I quite liked this series. It’s good acting, actors that you’re already familiar with in one way or another (I like that, personally) and you can get on board with most of it.

 

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Posted by on March 13, 2018 in Opinion, series, Uncategorized

 

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Kat in jas/ Cat in coat

Mijn broer kwam in zijn brugjaar zo af en toe ineens terug naar huis. Een nieuw schoolsysteem wat nog niet helemaal rijp was, waardoor het rooster ineens niet meer klopte, ondeugdelijke houding jegens de medemens en meer van dat soort grapjes waren hier doorgaans de reden van.
Of een verdwaalde kitten. Die wezens hebben bij ons in huis nogal eens de neiging gehad om zich onder zijn vleugels te verstoppen. Een van onze moederpoezen heeft ooit een heel nest kittens in zijn bed verstopt.
Waar wij ons het rambam naar zochten, want we wisten dat de bevalling kennelijk had plaatsgevonden. Moederpoes liep, leeg en wel, door het huis te banjeren. En ons vertellen waar ze had geworpen, ho maar. Alvast niet in de keuken, waar een kraamkamer was ingericht. Een kat en doen wat ‘m is opgedragen: haha.
Toen broerlief in bed werd gestopt en zijn benen probeerde te strekken, merkte hij de pluizige bolletjes bij zijn voeten op en riep:
‘Ik heb ze gevonden!’

Zo kwam het, dat toen mijn vader op een ochtend de voordeur open deed om naar zijn werk te vertrekken, daar tot zijn verbazing mijn broertje op de stoep trof.
‘Wat doe jij nou weer thuis?’ vroeg hij op nijdige toon.
‘Ja, ik moest wel, Hannah had zich in mijn jas verstopt!’ riep deze in al zijn onschuld uit, zijn fiets in het rek slingerend.
‘He?’ vroeg mijn vader verbaasd, terwijl hij de deur simpelweg openhield en achter mijn broer aan liep. Die was intussen door naar de woonkamer gelopen.
‘Hee, wat doe jij thuis?’ mijn moeder, verbaasd van achter haar krant, nog aan haar ontbijt.
‘Hannah zat in m’n jas, dus ik ben omgekeerd, naar huis’, zei hij, terwijl hij zijn jas open deed. En verrek, daar zat ze. Met grote tennisbal-ogen keek ze verschrikt mijn ouders aan. Die in lachen uitbarstten.
‘Wat een plek om je te verstoppen, sufferd!’ sprak mijn vader, terwijl hij het verschrikte beest over het verwarde kopje aaide en d’r uit de grote jaszak trok.
‘Nou, kom maar. Ik breng je wel naar school, dan leggen we het uit aan de conrector’, zei mijn vader mild tot mijn broertje.
En zo kwam het toch nog goed.

My brother sometimes arrived home earlier from his first year of midschool than anticipated. A schoolsystem not being completely functional yet, which left the schedule incomplete, incorrect behaviour towards other persons and superiors and more where that came from, were usually grounds for these early home arrivals.
Then we had kittens.
These creatures have often found their way underneath my little brother’s ‘wings’. It so happened that mothercat hid her kittens in his bed when no-one was around. We looked everywhere, for we knew the mothercat had delivered, as she was walking around slender and empty. We had prepared a ‘room’ for her in the kitchen, but using it? Meh. Cats never really do what you ask of ‘m, eh?
It wasn’t until my brother was put in bed at night and he wanted to stretch his legs, that he felt the little cottonballs in his bed.

‘I’ve found ‘m!’ he yelled then, so we could welcome our new familymembers properly.
So it happened that my father was about to leave for work, and found my brother in the front yard, just returning home.
‘What are you doing home early?’ he asked agitated.
‘I had to, Hannah was hidden in my coat’, he replied, all innocently.
‘Huh?’ my father replied surprised, simply holding the door and following my brother. Who marched straight through into the livingroom.
‘Huh? What are you doing back home?’ my mother asked, reading the newspaper, having breakfast.
‘Hannah was in my coat, I had to return home’, he said, opened his coat to show them. And there she was. With eyes the size of tennisballs she looked at my parents. Who started laughing loudly.
‘What a place to hide, you silly!’ my father said, petting the confused animal over its head, before yanking it out of the huge pocket. 
‘Oh well, come along. I’ll bring you back to school and we’ll explain things to your headmaster’, my father said to my little brother.
And so it all turned out well.

 
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Posted by on November 23, 2014 in Daily life, Humour

 

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