Friday Arts Diary

Our cultural picks for the week ahead.

Music

toe, XOYO, 23 September

Japan’s answer to Sigur Ros. Quite simply one of the finest, most under-appreciated bands in the world, toe finish their first European tour in a decade this Sunday in Shoreditch. Kashikura, Mino, Yamane and Yamazaki have since 2000 created some of the most complex, beautiful and dynamic (mainly) instrumental pop music anywhere in the world. Their latest album For Long Tomorrow incorporated salsa and jazz influences, expanding their large guitar and percussion-based instrumental repertoire to include samples, vibraphones and a Rhodes piano. The band tour in support of their new EP, The Future is Now.

Crafts

Fine Cell Work Pop-Up Shop, 5 Grosvenor St, W1K 4DJ, 10:00-18:00 daily until 30 September

Fine Cell Work is social enterprise which promotes skilled, creative needlework as a means of raising self-esteem, skills and motivation among prison inmates. 75 per cent of the stitchers are men who are paid 37 per centof the final sale price (a far better cut than most). The group have set up a pop-up shop in the heart of Mayfair to display and sell their exquisite needlepoint and embroidered home furnishings, many to templates by designers such as Nicky Haslam, Cath Kidston and Daisy de Villeneuve. There will also be ‘sew-cials’, ‘get to know and sew’ sessions and talks with ex-prisoners about their experiences participating in the Fine Cell Work prison programme.

Film

Safar: A Journey Through Popular Arab Cinema, ICA, 21 – 27 September

Described as “the most ambitious season of popular Arab film ever seen in the UK”, Safar aims to make Arabic film accessible for a new British audience, whilst at the same time providing a real treat for connoisseurs of world cinema. Curator Omar Kholeif hopes that it will entertain and absorb, as well as provide an alternative entry-point for understanding the Middle East. Read the New Statesman’s interview with him here.

Festivals

Split Festival, Ashbrooke Sports Club, Sunderland, 21, 22 and 23 September

"The Best Event in Sunderland" returns this year to showcase everything that’s great about contemporary north eastern music, food, fashion and comedy. Part-organised by indie-rock band The Futureheads, who headline on Sunday evening, the line-up includes Mercury nominees Field Music, The Unthanks and Kathryn Williams, as well as names such as Pulled Apart by Horded, Public Image and King Creosote. Other fine outfits not to be missed include Let’s Buy Happiness, This Ain’t Vegas and Algiers. In response to the poor job situation for young people across the region, festival organisers have frozen last year’s ticket prices and introduced a new range of concessions for students and the unwaged.

Literature

Soho Literary Festival, The Soho Theatre, 21 Dean St, W1D 3NE, 27 – 30 September

Presented by The Oldie, this year’s Soho Literary Festival returns with an elegant line-up featuring former PM John Major on the wonders of music hall, Michael Frayn discussing his novel Skios and a classics quiz hosted by Cambridge don Mary Beard. A full programme is available online and all events take place in the three cosy auditoriums at the Soho Theatre. Discounts are available for those books to attend more than one event.

The Futureheads, who part-organised Split Festival. Photograph: Getty Images
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Moving on up: why Ira Sachs is king of the "Rightmovie"

Little Men reminds us that Sachs is the the cinematic poet laureate of the gentrification drama.

There’s a nauseating moment at the end of the 1986 film Stand By Me when the narrator reflects on his childhood. “I never had any friends later on like the ones I had when I was 12,” he sighs. “Jesus, does anyone?” That sort of retroactive idealism is a temptation for any coming-of-age movie, but the writer-director Ira Sachs resists it in Little Men. His film charts the blossoming friendship between two 13-year-old boys, Jake (Theo Taplitz) and Tony (Michael Barbieri), without stooping to suggest that what they have is somehow purer than anything in the adult world. It isn’t – it’s just subject to different forces. Sachs captures the concentrated joy of youthful larks and loyalty but he is as wise as Fassbinder ever was to the impact of economic and social pressures on our emotional choices.

It’s clear that the film will be discreet from the way the cinematographer, Óscar Durán, shoots Jake and Tony from behind during their first meeting, as though permitting the boys a modicum of privacy away from our prying eyes. Sachs has a knack for finding those pockets of quiet in the hubbub. The opening shot puts the reserved, feminine-faced Jake at his school desk; he’s the still point in the midst of chaos. He takes whatever life – or, in this case, his classmates – can throw at him.

Then Jake gets a bombshell: his grand­father has died. His father, Brian (Greg Kinnear), and mother, Kathy (Jennifer Ehle), move with him into the old man’s building in Brooklyn. Downstairs is a cluttered dress shop that was being leased to Tony’s mother, Leonor (Paulina García), at a cut-price rate that failed to take into account the property boom. Jake’s father considers himself a sensitive man – he is an actor – ­preparing for a production of The Seagull but his life has just become The Cherry Orchard. Family members advise him to jack up the rent or boot out Leonor.

Kinnear conveys the honest terror of a kind man staring into the depths of his conscience and not liking what he finds. García, the star of the superb Gloria, is brave enough to make her character actively disagreeable at times. In her most complex scene, she sacrifices the moral high ground and overplays her hand with a single rash remark.

Yet Little Men belongs to the little men. Sensing the tremors of discord between their families, Jake and Tony stick together. They skate through the streets in a blur as the camera struggles to keep sight of them behind trees and parked cars while the propulsive score by Dickon Hinchliffe of Tindersticks urges them on.

As Tony, Barbieri is the find of the film. He’s twitchy and gangly, his voice a scratchy drawl that belongs to a bourbon-soaked barfly. No one has swaggered through Brooklyn with such aplomb since John Travolta at the beginning of Saturday Night Fever. Then he’ll do something impulsive, such as hugging his sobbing mother by wrapping his long arms all the way around her and clutching her head to his chest, and suddenly he’s a baby again.

With this and Love Is Strange – about a middle-aged gay couple forced to live separately due to financial difficulties – Sachs has appointed himself the cinematic poet laureate of gentrification-based drama. (Call it the dawn of the Rightmovie.) But he isn’t a tub-thumper. He and his co-writer, Mauricio Zacharias, show simply and plainly how money alters everything. Durán shoots the Brooklyn locations in a crisp, summery light that mirrors this straightforwardness. Any poetry springs from the everyday, such as the night-time shot in which blurred blobs of colour from streetlights and headlamps suggest dabs of paint on a palette.

Even the editing (by Mollie Goldstein) speaks volumes. The sudden cut from the gaudy clamour of a disco, where Tony wears a glow band around his neck like a fallen halo, to the chill calm of the subway platform evokes acutely that plunging feeling when the fun is over. As the boys wait for the train, their faces are framed in unsmiling repose in a shot that calls to mind Simon and Garfunkel on the cover of Bookends. And we all know what happened to them. 

Ryan Gilbey is the New Statesman's film critic. He is also the author of It Don't Worry Me (Faber), about 1970s US cinema, and a study of Groundhog Day in the "Modern Classics" series (BFI Publishing). He was named reviewer of the year in the 2007 Press Gazette awards.

This article first appeared in the 22 September 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times