Elstro

Chronophobia is the fear of time, or more specifically, time passing. Apparently it is most prevalent in prison inamtes with long sentences. Basically, it generates feelings of fear, anxiety and short breathing at the prospect of time passing. Otherwise known as going ‘stir-crazy’. I think I developed a slight case of this in the summer of 2008, after a seedy event in my life cause me to have a Getrude from Hamlet moment – it forced me to look totally into myself and I saw the “black and grained spots”  i.e was absolutely horrified by what I saw.  Even an episode of Jonathan Creek delved into this curious phobia – a chronophobic character played by Dermot Crowley in a 1998 episode (“Time Waits For Norman”) actually removes hands off clocks and concocted an elaborate scheme in order to give himself “more time.” Even David Renwick’s brilliant dialogue perfectly encapsulated the concept of the phobia:

“Time? It’s slipping through out fingers…faster than ever….time can never be reclaimed. What is the past..where does it go?” (paraphrased-ish)

Which is obvious – time can indeed be never reclaimed.

“No point raking over the past.”

“Stop living in the past”

“You can’t change the past!”

“Get over it.”

All of the above may be true, so these all being the case, why are we all guilty of doing them? You can’t go back in time. Yet people always look to the past almost out of desperation when their world comes crashing down around them. Like inEastenders or any soap, say some character has an affair, one of the first lines they are guaranteed to utter is “If I could turn the clock back, I would.” Wouldn’t it be the answer to so many of our problems if we could? We’d all love to have a time turner like in Harry Potter. I know I would.

I myself spend, and have spent a great many years with my head buried in a sandpit of “What If”s. What if I’d got off my backside sooner and realised that at 16, most other gays go out and fuck everything in trousers for example? What if I’d realised that not everyone at school was out to get me? What if I had done this? Then this would have happened…the list just goes on and on. For me, hindsight is a curse and frankly I’d be better off forgetting everything. One thing I’ve always been guilty of is judging people on their own pasts and usually flying into a jealous rage because they have a more interesting past than me. All I have to show for my 21 years on this earth is a string of missed oppertunities, failed auditions and jobs, and a sexual past even the most repressed gay would sneer at. But does this really matter in the here and now?

I know damn well I can’t turn the clock back. I can’t go back five years, bleach my hair and start advertising myself as the newest boi/chicken on the gay scene. Nor could I go back fifteen years and realise that kids make friends when they start school, not running around the playground in their own little world. Not just that far back  - I even fume at recent events such as “what if I’d put my camera in my pocket, least it wouldn’t be sitting on my table with a buggered screen”. But the sad fact is, yes, the past does matter. Because the past has shaped me into who I am today. And I don’t like what I am today. So I almost explode with frustration at my past self because it could have been a whole new kettle of fish had I stopped and realised what was happening in the REAL world, not just my own.

But yet, I don’t get people firing 20 questions at me for what I did six months ago, nor do they tell me they can’t have anything to do with me because of what I did on 22 October 2004. (Nothing noteworthy probably – knowing me probablpy another wasted day in front of a screen. YAWN.)

So to conclude another day’s innate ramblings. Yes, the past does have a meaning. You only have one shot at life. Therefore you should get the most out of it. Otherwise you will end up a sad and bitter old grouch. Just like me.

The cast of Shank

NOTE: SPOILERS! Don’t read if you haven’t seen this!

It is not often I go and see a film, but when I heard about this low-budget indie flick (Or rather, the sex scenes were leaked onto some seedy site!) I had to track it down. Gay cinema is an interesting conundrum – it is either jaded coming-out-against-the-odds stories or about cross-dressing, in the vein of such films as ‘But I’m A Cheerleader’.

Shank is gritty, hard-hitting and uncompromising. As you can see from publicity shots, it is about chavs. More specifically Bristol’s gang scene. Being gay and chavvy, I must admit, is a delicious topic to explore as it’s something that we suspect goes on, but don’t want to admit. Similar to being a queer footballer, I suppose. Shank has been described as “Beautiful Thing on coke” which holds several truths; like the Jonathan Harvey bestseller, it explores a teenage boy from a rough background and his struggle with his gay feelings towards his best friend.

The story centres around 19-year-old Cal (a fiery debut from newcomer Wayne Virgo), member of a violent happy-slapping gang  from Bristol who is secretly gay. He fancies his thuggish best mate Jonno (Tom Bott, a fantastically nuanced performance), who is screwing the violent gang leader, Nessa (a fantastic turn from Alice Payne).  Cal gets his kicks from anonymous sex with strangers, including Bristol University lecturer Scott (Garry Summers), filming each encounter so he can get turned on by it again later. One day the gang target snooty French boy Olivier (Marc Laurent), a mincing, effeminate youth who is such an antithesis to the gang that you almost aren’t surprised to see him get a pasting. Cal falls for Olivier and the two form a relationship. When Nessa, who, “no fucking body turns against.” finds out, she is determined to get the two faggots once and for all, kidnapping Olvier and taunting Cal via vid-messaging to come and save his boyfriend. Cal stands up to his former allies once and for all, but as the showdown goes on, even Nessa is horrified at what happens….

Undoubtedly Nessa is the main antagonist for the movie; a nasty, temperamental rudegirl who nightmares are made of. Payne sneers and snaps her way through the tight script like Lauren Cooper-meets-Vinnie Jones. Hair scraped back, hoopy earings, a ‘wannabe Yardie’ accent and a plethora of ‘fucks’ and homophobia pouring from her mouth, Payne as Nessa really holds her own against the lads – an impressive turn from the only female lead here. We do see what made Nessa so twisted, and Payne’s brilliantly dramatic performance during that scene grabs the emotions, but the character is such a bitch that it is hard to feel sympathy for her.

Tom Bott as Jonno is also brilliant. The character is a dumb-arse, Nuts-mag-reading stud/jock who is clearly a closet case. Swaggering about the screen, yet showing deep turmoil in his eyes, and the sexual tension between Bott and Virgo is electric; this is easily one of the best performances of the film. Even during the climactic end scene, Bott manages to draw a grain or two of sympathy for Jonno despite his despicable behaviour.

Marc Laurent, was by far the weakest link. Although he showed sufficient amounts of tenderness when required, and managed to deliver English (not his first language, assumed) without sounding wooden, he just doesn’t cut the mustard compared to the rest and seems rather bored a lot of the time. Also, although facially he is striking, personally I found him too skinny and this was somewhat offputting. Also he and Virgo didn’t have much chemistry, even in the sex scenes. When Cal and Jonno almost kiss in Cal’s battered old Escort, the tension between them was so realistic that you find yourself begging Cal to just take Jonno right there and then. Also, would a rough kid like Cal even fancy someone like Olivier, apart from his exotic looks and money?

In a small role, Garry Summers does very well, but he only really gets one emotional scene and no real drama, so I can’t comment too much. Though his sex scene with Virgo is rather erotic, though because this is at the start and you don’t expect to see a chav boy get it in the arse and enjoy it.

Star of the show has to be Wayne Virgo in his first professional role as Cal. He avoids falling into the trap of being the chav who minces or likes a bit of Miley Cyrus (her music, not her tits) and plays it totally straight, Cal not appearing stereotypically gay at all. The only flaw in his performance, is his accent occasionally slipping into something more well-spoken at times.

Overall Shank delivers a powerful story and hits the viewer right in the gonads – no weepy coming-out-against-the-odds here. Undoubtedly director Simon Pearce (just 21 when he shot it – same age as me, unbelievable!!) took a gamble by casting unknowns and using a limited budget, but it pays off  tremendously. No flashy CGI effects or lavish set pieces, the focus is on good, old-fashioned storytelling and proper acting, which you don’t a lot of in Hollywood. Casual, dirty sexual encounters are presented unfiltered and seasoned with copious amounts of charlie. A must see for those who want to see a new breed of gay flicks, and definitely one for those with a fetish for chavs.
Rating: 8/10

Director: Simon Pearce

Written by: Darren Flaxstone and Christian Martin

Starring: Wayne Virgo, Tom Bott, Alice Payne, Marc Laurent.

Likes: First-class acting from Virgo, Payne and Bott, adorable love story, stunning cinematography, unpretentious directing by Pearce, breaks the “coming out story” mould.

Dislikes: A bit too homophobic for its own good, hot sex scenes and nudity mean this is one to watch in company with a pillow over your crotch, some violent scenes which are a bit too disturbing for some, the street-talk is sometimes hard to understand, Laurent is wooden and unbelievable in the role of Cal’s love interest.