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This was so worth the journey – The Holdovers

“We cannot sacrifice our integrity on the altar of their entitlement.” Mr Hunham in The Holdovers

It’s cold, it’s Christmas and five assorted students in a private boarding school are doomed to spend the holiday on campus. Mr Hunham is their reluctant babysitter, and Mary Lamb their heartbroken caterer.

The plot sounds predictable, and I thought the whole thing would be too gooey for my liking. I was wrong. I loved this. David Hemingson’s writing is delivered so completely and so physically by the three leads – Mr Hunham (Paul Giamatti), Angus Tully (Dominic Sessa) and Mary Lamb (Da’Vine Joy Randolph) – that I felt immersed from the start in the boys’ school. It’s all about personalities at the beginning and then gradually, thanks to the palette-subdued filming, the lack of mobile phones, and the occasional mention of the Vietnam War, it becomes clear that the story is set decades previously.

However, the question right at the heart of it has not changed over the decades – how will an old, and apparently unloved and boring teacher, be able to control the unhappy teenagers? The answer is revealed slowly, and made clearer by the removal of four of the group to leave only Angus, Mr Hunham and Mary. Over the rest of the film their stories emerge little by little, sometimes with a hint of ribbon and at others with a heart twanging sadness, but always the camera pulls out fast enough to keep the pace moving. Alexander Payne’s directing gives us a look at the loneliness of life, but he does not encourage us to wallow in pity for anyone, however sorry they feel for themselves … at least not until the goodbyes right at the end.

The film lasts a little under two hours. The score is gentle, and the settings simple and straightfoward. I found it an engrossing watch, my emotions flying this way and that, one minute laughing and the next minute sniffing. Thinking about it on my way home I wasn’t skipping down the street, but I did feel hopeful … and slightly stronger.

I found this article in Time magazine with more information about the film and the writer.

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023

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The news at the end of a wet week

I caught snatches of today’s news as we quarter-circled around the M25 out of London. Here’s what I heard.

First up were a prince, his spokesman and paper dragons. The spokesman said that getting burned was the price the prince had to pay for fighting dragons. Meanwhile a paper dragon flamed about suntans, California, and sharing breathing space with the truth. It seems the prince and the paper dragons are not done yet.

Then we heard of a British teenager, missing for six years, but apparently found recently in the middle of the night. The man who found him was a French student working as a delivery driver in his spare time. He saw the youngster wandering along a lonely road near Toulouse and offered him a lift. They got talking, and the story told in the cab that night, and later passed to the police along with the teenager, was about a mother, who ran away with her son and her father. They joined a group leading a nomadic, off-grid life, but the son – the wandering teenager – is now keen to be reunited with his grandmother in England.

It was a strange story, that left us imagining, and was then followed by news of pirates in the Red Sea. There have been attacks and threats, and ships re-routed, and it sounds a lot like things might get worse.

I preferred the account of the grandson heading home.

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023

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A treat of a meal in Manteca, London

“The trouble with eating Italian is that 5 or 6 days later you’re hungry again.” George Miller

It was a windy, wet mid-week day when I stepped off the pavement into Manteca. Instantly all was warmth, and relaxed chat.

Our table was in a long row of tables for two. They were close together, but the restaurant so filled with activity that there was no chance to concentrate on anything other than our own meal and conversation. There was also no looking around for service as it seemed to appear out of nowhere to explain menus and choices, and then to deliver the results.

We were happy from start to finish – part of the theatre that swirled around us.

The open, stainless steel kitchen runs down the middle of the restaurant, with chefs in bright white chopping and preparing and plating up the bread and pasta, the meats and salads, while kitchen staff carry tubs of vegetables to and fro.

Our choices included chunks of foccacia alongisde puffy pork crackling, with a warming, rich ragu. Next came a bitter leaf salad with gorgonzola and pear, and then two pasta dishes, one with a crab sauce and another in a sauce of emerald green kale with chilli. They both tasted fresh and delicious.

We ended the meal with coffee and some salty fudge, then stepped back into the winter reality of London’s streets. Our immersion was over. Our escape was over. Our privileged two hours were over.

Was it worth it? Definitely. We had enjoyed attention, theatre, and food full of flavour, with a quietly professional kitchen right at the heart of our moment in time.

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023