Of Artists and Iron Ladies

The 84th Academy Awards were pleasantly unsurprising. After the disastrous decision to have James Franco and Anne Hathaway host last year’s show, the Academy wisely deposited this year’s ceremony in the safest of safe hands: those belonging to Billy Crystal.

To some he will have been too safe, but his efficiency and old-style stand-up patter were everything that was needed to ensure the 84th Oscars were exactly what the 83rd were not: well-paced, seamless and amusing.

There were, though, still missteps, ranging from the small, such as the great Greek filmmaker Theo Angelopoulos being omitted from the In Memoriam segment, to the large and self-defeating, such as the three honorary Oscars being awarded earlier in the week.

This meant that James Earl Jones, Oprah Winfrey and the legendary make-up artist Dick Smith, whose speeches would have

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The infantryman's struggle in Afghanistan

If you have an interest in the military campaign in Afghanistan, or in modern film-making — and if you have a strong stomach — I would strongly recommend Hell and Back Again, a contender in the Best Documentary category at the Oscars this weekend. Despite winning the World Documentary prize at Sundance last year, it had a very limited cinema release (not unusually for a documentary) and is yet to break even worldwide, though that may be about to change.

The main difference with the other equally impressive but better-known documentaries on the Afghan campaign, Restrepo and Armadillo, is the film’s individual focus. It concentrates on a single US Marine, Sergeant Nathan Harris, following him through a tour in Afghanistan, and after his return home. A few days before the end of his tour, Sergeant Harris was shot in the backside, and suffered complex and

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Film’s future may be in three dimensions but its past should stay in two

James Cameron’s Titanic is soon to be back in cinemas – in 3D. Even if you are a great fan of Titanic, and a great fan of 3D, this is not something to celebrate.

I love 3D. In fact, I’m quickly acquiring a small reputation as someone publications and radio stations come to when they want a film critic to stick up for it – but even I think 2D-to-3D conversions are an abomination.

3D could be a fabulous new frontier in filmmaking. There are great filmmakers, such as Martin Scorsese, who recognise this and make exciting new films suited to the opportunities it offers.

And there are great film-makers, such as George Lucas, who use it to desecrate

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Ken Russell – patron saint of European composers

I may be sticking my neck out if I say that the films of the late, great Ken Russell  did more to broaden the audience for classical music than Herbert von Karajan and Leonard Bernstein rolled into one. Still, I’ll risk it.

The stories simply itching to be retrieved from the history of music are packed with more juicy fruit than even the best Viennese berry strudel, and Russell brought them to life with unique vigour, originality and conviction. I’ve been checking out his efforts regarding two of this year’s big anniversary composers: Frederick Delius and Claude Debussy, who were both born in 1862 and have therefore now clocked up 150 years apiece.

Russell’s Lisztomania went over the top and round the

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A beautiful day in the neighbourhood

Public art – art that aims to engage with the public, as opposed to being merely available to the public – is an increasingly important element of urban regeneration.

In Britain, it often takes the form of sculptures, such as The Angel of the North: big, booming, look-at-me artworks that aim to become talking points. Some of these are successful, many fail, and reactions to them tend to veer between one cliché (‘iconic’) and another (‘eyesore’).

But, like them or not, it is usually possible to escape the influence of the pieces by walking around the block.

A recent project in Miami takes a different approach. At The Wynwood Walls,  the artwork is the block, and the one beyond, and

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The daughter of the great man

A Daughter’s Tale is the memoir of Mary Soames, Winston Churchill’s youngest daughter. It is remarkable, uplifting, moving and utterly fascinating.

Remarkable, because from 18 to 22 she was at her father and mother’s side at the Admiralty, Number 10 and Chequers, observing and sharing the horrors of war and the possibility of defeat. Uplifting, because she gave great comfort and support to her parents who were under more pressure than any of us could comprehend.

Moving, because of the deep love and affection she clearly shared with her ‘dearest Papa’ and ‘darling mummie’. And fascinating because she kept a vivid diary of all those she met. FDR, ‘the Prof’ Frederick Lindemann, Pug Ismay, Stalin (whom she called Uncle Joe), De Gaulle and Dickie Mountbatten (whom she referred to as ‘glamour pants’) are just a few of the giants she

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Further thoughts about film's Age of Availability

Forget my agent, my family, my hairstylist and my co-stars — I'd just like to thank The Artist. I have, after all, written a couple of articles about silent film on the back of Michel Hazanavicius's film; and opportunities like that don't arise too often for political hacks. The first (£) was for the opinion pages of the Times, a couple of weeks ago. And the second is for the latest issue of The Spectator. You can read the whole thing here.

My argument in The Spectator piece is straightforward: people may be talking about a ‘silent revival’ now, thanks to the success of The Artist and Martin Scorsese's Hugo, but really that revival has been gaining pace for at least a

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