Across 110th Street (1972)

Recommended on Amazon as a blaxploitation classic, I added Across 110th Street to my Christmas list, despite knowing little more than it had a soundtrack penned by Bobby Womack and featured the ageless and superb Yaphet Kotto as the young, liberal Lieutenant Pope. Pope is forced to team up with the older, tired Captain Mattelli (Anthony Quinn) when a $300,000 money exchange between two Mafioso and three Harlem blacks is hijacked by three robbers - one of whom, Antonio Fargas, is so annoying he might as well be holding an badly written banner and singing 'Poor Scouser Tommy' - who kill the five, and two police officers during their getaway. Pope and Mattelli attempt to reach these three before the unholy alliance of local Harlem crime boss Doc Johnson (the excellent Richard Ward) and wannabe Mafia don Nick D'Salvio (Anthony Franciosa) catch them first.

Almost unremittingly dark in tone, the film is a real period piece; both in terms of its portrayal of the sometimes brutal life on the Harlem streets, and the changing face of the NYPD. The film came hard on the heels of the Knapp Commission and reflects the internal divisions experienced as the force began to attempt to clean itself up, no more so than in the scene where Doc Johnson reveals to the newcomer Pope that Mattelli has been in his pay for a number of years, but fails to reach the same arrangement with Pope. The relationship between Pope and Mattelli also characterises the growing changes, the modern-thinking Pope (a relative rookie promoted, in Mattelli's eyes, through positive discrimination) horrified by a battle-hardened Mattelli's efforts to coerce information from suspects through overt violence, a juxtaposition revisited recently in 'Life on Mars'. The theme of racism also runs strongly through the whole film, whether underlying, as with Pope and Martelli, or in the disparaging and uneasy relationship between the Harlem blacks and the Mafia, which simmers with distrust.

Despite one or two flaws - the ending is a bit contrived and some of the acting a bit hammy, particularly in the slightly cartoony Mafia gang, this is a broadly superb piece with well-rounded characters - even the cold-eyed and ruthless John Harris (Paul Benjamin), the most vicious member of the three man robbery team is given a shred of humanity. At the price of a pint of Peroni from Amazon and others, it's well worth a look, standing up well against 'Dirty Harry' and other cop movies of the time.

5 Talk Sport irritants

Like the Daily Mail online edition, Talk Sport has become an unavoidable part of my daily routine that I can’t quite shake off. And, whisper it quietly, some of it is good. Paul Hawksbee and Andy Jacobs’ show on a weekday afternoon is, by virtue of not taking it too seriously, funny and genuinely interesting at times. Similarly, the brilliant Danny Kelly appears to be unable to find a permanent slot in the schedule but regularly pops up like a chubby supply teacher and is often an eloquent, lone voice against the ‘Premiership is biggest and best’ bandwagon. And, although an utter tool, I have a certain grim admiration for Adrian Durham’s seemingly unending ability to adopt a hardline view that he appears to seriously believe for whatever issue he needs to get people to call in on (at premium rate), especially having held the exact opposite position two days earlier. But to get to the better stuff, there is much shite to endure:



MICKY QUINN
‘Everyone’s favourite Scouser’ is how one of the station’s trails describes him, although this is no truer than Ian Huntley being ‘everyone’s favourite caretaker’. A clear advocate of the concept that bluster and volume is preferable to intelligence and analysis, he wears his Liver bird close to his chest and is a persistent exponent of the tiresome ‘we won it five times, the Kop speaks as one, we don’t sack managers, unique atmosphere, best supporters in the weeerld’ horseshit heard from pub bores in ecru away kits the length and breadth of the world. And Alvin Martin is no better.


DARREN GOUGH
Living proof of the ever-increasing depressing trend toward employing former sportsmen before first checking they can speak coherently (on which note Sky must surely be receiving a grant or fulfilling a quota by giving Dean Windass air time) Gough appears barely capable of sustaining a consistent point of view through a three hour show, during which he is careful not to insult anyone he may bump into on the ‘celebrity’ circuit. Makes Ian Wright seem like John Arlott.



MARK SAGGERS
Co-host of the weekend breakfast show with Micky Quinn and anchor of much of the weeknight output. Came across quite well while performing a similar role at Radio 5, elevating himself in the minds of most right-thinking people by his clear dislike of Alan ‘this is woeful’ Green. However, on arrival at TS was clearly told he needed to be more opinionated, which he is not remotely suited to. His ‘oh get on with it’ outburst at the staggered announcement of the 2022 World Cup hosts, in reaction to England not getting 2018 a few minutes earlier (despite England being in his opinion the only show in town because, well, ‘we’re England’), was pure, unfiltered, glorious Partridge.



MIKE PARRY
Almost single handedly ruining the name of Everton fans every time he opens his mouth, his mid morning show is a great clunking mess of a current issues discussion show, seemingly sponsored by The Sun, in which little Englander Parry attempts to win arguments by making words up and taking up entrenched positions too odd to make for a proper debate. Still miles better than predecessor Jon ‘Political Correctness gone mad’ Gaunt, the obnoxious love child of Richard Littlejohn and Margaret Thatcher.


RONNIE IRANI
See Darren Gough

Gerry Rafferty (1947-2011)

"Whatever’s written in your heart, that’s all that matters
You’ll find a way to say it all someday"

Having written of my admiration for Gerry Rafferty before, I was sad to hear of his death yesterday. The many obituaries that have appeared in the last few hours will no doubt do him better justice than I can, but I would say only that hopefully the coverage following his passing will inspire a few people not overly familiar with him to download or pick up a copy of ‘City to City’ and ‘Night Owl’ (surely due a proper release on CD) and enjoy the man at his peak.

Random great Everton goals #7

Marcus Bent - Southampton v Everton
St Mary's, February 6, 2005

Since David Moyes’ arrival as manager, it could be argued that only two centre forwards have really settled successfully for any period of time as the lone spearhead in his 4-5-1 formation, an issue that still blights the team to this day. The first is Yakubu, who for a period was as single-mindedly prolific a front man as the club has had since Gary Lineker. Sadly the evidence of the last year and a half suggests that, occasional flashes of brilliance aside, the physical and mental toil taken by his injury have reduced him to at best a shadow of his former self. The second is the nomadic Marcus Bent. Arriving late and unnoticed for £450,000 in the traumatic summer of 2004 that saw Wayne Rooney’s defection along the M62, Bent, who continues to collect clubs at an impressive rate, appeared to find a home at Goodison. Technically underrated, his selfless running was vital in creating space for the likes of Tim Cahill and Leon Osman, and although his goal return was modest, his contribution to the fourth placed finish the club achieved that year was significant. Sadly that was as good as it got for Bent. With James Beattie having arrived for good money that January and the club enjoying an indifferent, to put it kindly, start to the following campaign, Bent found himself increasingly underemployed and unable to contain his frustration. It was no massive surprise therefore that he left for Charlton in January 2006 for over £2million. Although his stay at Everton was relatively brief – although by his standards possibly worthy of a testimonial – he clearly appreciated his time on Merseyside, recently commenting…

“I can’t find the words to describe how special that club is.....I’d kiss the Everton badge now if I had the shirt – that’s how passionate I am about them. I’ve become a fan having played there.”

This effort was from the 2004-5 season away trip to St Mary’s with the aforementioned Beattie struggling to settle in and the Blues wobbling slightly after the departure of Thomas Gravesen to Real Madrid. The late late goal, in a game that featured Mikel Arteta’s first ever appearance in a blue shirt as a sub, rescued a point in a 2-2 draw and is noteworthy for Harry Redknapp’s priceless reaction, as legs go everywhere in the away end, en route to eventual relegation.

Random great Everton goals #6

Steve Watson - Bolton v Everton
Reebok Stadium, January 28, 2003

The current dip in temperature always excites certain sections of the press. I always get the impression that they can’t wait to fill their pages with pictures of traffic accidents, snowmen and the weather doing what it does in November and December i.e. get cold. What the populations of Russia and Canada, where large sections would regard our winter as a mild spring, must think is anyone’s guess. In the past few years more and more games seem to be being called off for conditions around the ground rather than the state of pitch, probably either to due to the home side having a particularly troublesome injury situation or to stop the inevitable scruffy meff taking a dive outside and trying to sue the club. When they do go ahead, winter games are often an excellent diversion from either shopping for the family, or just being with them (especially Boxing Day), but it doesn’t change the fact that they can be ball-achingly cold at times. This January encounter has largely been erased from my mind by the passage of time save for two memories. The first is the fact that for the ninety minutes sat in the upper tier of the away end, there can have been nowhere colder on earth. Second was this out of character acrobatic effort from perennially sweaty, very occasional centre forward Steve Watson early on, that propelled/shuffled the Blues to an almost instantly forgettable away win. Forgettable bar the cold that is. It actually hurt…

Genius - No5

Of all France’s many great artists of the twentieth century, few people’s work appear to be as frequently visible through postcards and posters as that of the photographer Robert Doisneau. The evident commercial appeal of his work does not detract from its quality though. Along with the likes of Willy Ronis and Edouard Boubat, his perfect captured representations of the varied minutiae of life in Paris in the 1940’s and 1950’s evoke a sense of warmth at an apparent simplicity of life – especially amongst generations of children making their own entertainment - as well as displaying the broad, varied character and elegance of the city’s streets and buildings. Particularly depressing are suggestions that this style of photography is being made increasingly more difficult by the largely hysterical and unfounded concerns surrounding the principle of taking photos of the young. From a personal point of view, Doisneau’s success however lies in the fact that it is his work that is brought instantly to my mind whenever there is a mention of mid twentieth century life in Paris.

Le Manege de Monsieur Barre (1955)



La Baguette Parisienne (1953)



L'Enfer (1952)



Rue Marcellin Berthelot, Choisy le Roi (1945)



Bolides (1956)

Viva Brazil

36 Castle Street
L2 0NR
website



Set in a beautiful building on Castle Street and with the capacity for 160 covers, Viva Brazil was somewhere I'd wanted to go since its recent opening, having greatly enjoyed the concept of rodizio - Brazilian barbeque with table service - at Rodizio Rico in London. After a quick Sagres in the small but perfectly formed bar area, we shown to our table and ordered what transpired to be a superb bottle of Tarquino 2009 Malbec from Mendoza.



The principal of rodizio is simple. Meat carvers or passadors patrol round the restauarnt with any one of fifteen different meats on skewers, cooked on a charcoal barbeque. Provided with a coaster on arrival, one side green with "yes please" written on it and other red with "no thanks", you simply display the green side and summon a passador when you see something you like. He expertly carves pieces until you tell him to stop.



A self service salad bar with a variety of side dishes is available, and among these was a smooth garlic mash and a superb celeriac salad with capers. The undeniable star of the show though is the meat. In the interests of research I managed to sample thirteen of the fifteen meats. Particular highlights were the Picanha com alho (garlic cap of rump), Cordeiro (leg of lamb), Frango com bacon (chicken wrapped in smoked bacon) and Contra filet (sirloin), but there was nothing that disappointed. Given the array and variety of meats available, the idea of pudding was never seriously on the cards and at £22.95 per person (£12.50 at lunch), the rodizio provides excellent value. All in all this is another excellent addition to the increasing number of top quality city centre eateries