This morning outside my window I could hear the sound of Frank Sinatra singing ‘New York, New York’.

It was coming from one of the cars stuck in the stop-start rush hour traffic.

The sound seemed almost surreal – a bold, uplifting song very much at odds with the mundanity of the early morning November commute in north London.

Those unexpected few seconds of Sinatra singing about New York reminded me of Alan Cumming’s autobiography Not My Father’s Son, which I finished reading recently.

New York probably has as important a place in Cumming’s life as it did for Sinatra.  

Alan Cumming seems to be an intriguing and likeable character, so I was interested enough to buy his autobiography Not My Father’s Son when it was published.

Many years ago during the Edinburgh Festival I went to see a performance of ‘Victor and Barry’, played by Cumming and Forbes Masson. It was hysterically funny. The two of them created a great bond with the audience that night.

Alan Cumming’s autobiography is a riveting read, although harrowing for much of the time in its candid descriptions of the psychological and physical violence inflicted upon the young Alan by his brutal father.

It is a miracle that Alan emerged from such a traumatic childhood to be the man he is now, successful in his career and grateful for the good things in his life.

Many others would surely be permanently embittered had they suffered such trauma in their childhood.

The ‘Then’ and ‘Now’ structure of the book works very well, with chapters alternating between his torrid past and his fulfilling present.

When he is describing a cabaret stint he did at a fancy venue on New York’s Upper East Side, he sums up his outlook on life:

‘I knew my song choices were probably a little idiosyncratic and certainly politically challenging for the club’s regular demographic, but I believe if you’re honest, true to yourself, and committed, and especially if you use humour as a tool as well as a balm, people will respect you perhaps more than if they agreed with everything you said. It’s actually quite a good ethos for life: go into the unknown with truth, commitment and openness, and mostly you’ll be okay.’

Using humour as a tool as well as a balm, as Alan Cumming put it, was very much in evidence in today’s film I, Daniel Blake (directed by Ken Loach) at the Phoenix in East Finchley.

The Phoenix was looking great in the early evening darkness, its sleek uncluttered façade traversed by the vertical red lighting of the cinema name and the horizontal blue strips of light just below roof level.

We bought our tickets at the box office and headed up the stairs past an amusing portrait on the wall of cinema critic Mark Kermode with exaggerated billowing hair defying gravity as it flows away at a tangent to his head.

At the upstairs bar I had a Howling Hops East End Hefeweize, which was excellent, before we went into the glorious art deco auditorium to see the film.

‘I, Daniel Blake’ certainly lives up to the glowing reviews it has received.

The film is very funny and also tragically sad.

There was no shortage of tears and sniffs amongst tonight’s Phoenix audience as this deeply moving story reached its heart-breaking climax.

Dave Johns is superb as Daniel Blake, tenacious and good-humoured, refusing to allow the system to crush his spirit.

Hayley Squires is equally good as Katie, the single mum struggling to make ends meet as she looks after her two kids, Daisy and Dylan.

Although ‘I, Daniel Blake’ is about the victim of a scandalous system that forces people to apply for work even when they are declared unfit for work for medical reasons by their doctor, the film is never maudlin or self-pitying.

There are just enough acts of human kindness throughout the story to take the edge off what would otherwise be an unbearably bleak picture of poverty in modern Britain.

One of the most striking things about this magnificent film is that there is almost no music in it at all.

No clichéd sad music welling up to tell us how we should be feeling.

Instead, the film grips one’s attention through a brilliant script (Paul Laverty), great acting, and perfect pacing and editing.

It’s easy to understand why ‘I, Daniel Blake’ got a standing ovation at the Cannes Film Festival and won the Palme d’Or.

After the film we crossed the road over to East Finchley Underground station.

The archer statue was not illuminated, which seemed a shame – it would look stunning at night if a light was shone upon it.

Related Post: ‘I, Daniel Blake’, The Phoenix, East Finchley, London

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What better way of spending a Thursday morning than sitting in the art deco splendour of Finchley’s Phoenix cinema watching an old Hitchcock classic?

About twenty cinephiles gathered here today for the 10.30 showing of the 1951 thriller Strangers On A Train.

The film didn’t start until a few minutes later than scheduled, but that’s fine in this cinema as it gives you a chance to take in the auditorium’s superb décor.

‘Strangers On A Train’ is captivating from first minute to last.

The opening encounter on the train between professional tennis player Guy Haines (Farley Granger) and the suave, creepy stranger Bruno Antony (Robert Walker) immediately establishes a menacing air of entrapment.

Robert Walker steals the show in this film, exuding psychopathic charm and manipulating all those who have the misfortune to come into contact with him.

As I was watching this film I was wondering why I hadn’t seen Walker in other films, as he certainly radiates star quality.

I then found out that he died at the early age of 32 in 1951, the same year that Strangers On A Train was released, thus cutting short what may have gone on to be a glittering career.

Alfred Hitchcock himself makes a cameo appearance in one scene early on in the film, heaving a double bass onto a train at Metcalf station.

All the elements of ‘Strangers On A Train’ combine to make this a highly polished and entertaining film.

There is great original music by Dimitri Tiomkin, a sharp and pithy script based on the novel by Patricia Highsmith, and some subtle cinematography, as in the tilted angle showing Guy approaching the house of Bruno’s father, the off-kilter angle indicating morality becoming unhinged.

When ‘Strangers On A Train’ ended I left the cinema and headed home, catching the Northern Line train from East Finchley station.

Back home I found out the sad news that Guy Clark, the great singer, songwriter and musician, died last month. There’s no finer songwriter anywhere.

I saw him give a solo performance in a church hall off Dalry Road in Edinburgh several years ago.

It was a thrill to see such a legendary figure playing live in a small, intimate venue. As Robert K. Oermann wrote in the 1995 liner notes to Clark’s ‘Craftsman’ collection, “The patron saint of an entire generation of bohemian pickers, Guy Clark has become an emblem of artistic integrity, quiet dignity and simple truth.”

Related Post: ‘Vertigo’, Dundee Contemporary Arts (DCA)

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East Finchley tube station is a station worth lingering at for a few minutes, instead of bolting out of it the instant you have stepped off a train there.

The station building is wonderful.

Standing on the platform is like stepping back in time to the 1930s.

Designed by Charles Holden, one of the country’s leading architects of the period, one of the station’s most striking features are the two semi-circular towers on opposite platforms, joined by a bridge over the railway track, like glass goalposts and a brick crossbar.

According to the Royal Institute of British Architects, that design is an echo of Walter Gropius’ model factory at the 1914 Werkbund Exhibition.

Another superb feature is the art deco statue of an archer by sculptor Eric Aumonier.

The statue exudes a tremendous blend of poise and power.

It has a boldness that you would associate with New York’s art deco splendours in the streets of Manhattan rather than with this relatively quiet London suburb. But it fits the station and its environment perfectly.

What has drawn me to East Finchley is the chance to see a film at the Phoenix, one of London’s best-loved cinemas.

The Phoenix was built in 1910 as a single-screen cinema.

It is just a few minutes walk north from the station along the High Road.

On the way I spot a tv celebrity – Huw Edwards, the BBC newsreader whose warm Welsh accent is so soothing and reassuring. He is walking along the High Road with a companion.

Both their faces are taut and grim, as if they have had an argument and have not yet made up.

But when I watch the evening news later that night, I realise that that severe facial expression is actually his normal one.

The Phoenix cinema has a sleek and uncluttered modernist exterior enlivened by the bold splash of orange colour provided by the phoenix plaque in the postage stamp corner of the building.

Inside, there is a nicely jumbled up lobby and an upstairs café bar area with some interesting artwork on the wall at the top of the stairs.

I am pleasantly surprised to see Scottish Deuchars IPA on the beer list. I order a pint and quaff it while waiting for the 5.30 p.m. screening of today’s film, Anna Karenina.

The cinema auditorium is fabulous.

Its 1910 barrel-vaulted ceiling, wonderful art deco wall panels from 1938, and the bronze and red colour scheme give the place a cosy opulence that is quite stunning.

The curved backs of the seats give a pleasing sensation of waves at sea rippling from the back of the auditorium down towards the screen.

If you judge it only from the official trailer, you might assume that this version of ‘Anna Karenina’, directed by Joe Wright and adapted from Tolstoy by Sir Tom Stoppard, is little more than a pompous costume drama.

But I’m glad I didn’t let the trailer put me off, because the film turns out to be riveting.

The cast are clearly revelling in the period splendour, but there is plenty humour bubbling away under the surface.

A playfulness in the acting provides a surprising but effective counterbalance to the heavy tragedy that steadily unfolds.

Previously I haven’t been a huge fan of Keira Knightley, but in this film she is terrific.

As Anna Karenina, she embodies dashing enthusiasm and fragile vulnerability in equal measure.

Visually the film is gorgeous to look at, with its opulent sets and costumes, beautifully lit and filmed.

One of the most striking scenes in ‘Anna Karenina’ is the one in the theatre when time seems to stand still as the entire audience turn their judgemental eyes onto Anna. Without any superfluous dialogue or other signals to the audience, at that moment you know that Anna is doomed.

The Phoenix is the perfect cinema to watch this film in.

The glorious auditorium mirrors the feel of the splendour unfolding on screen.

Watching ‘Anna Karenina’ in this superb cinema has been a wonderful experience.

It’s good to have seen the captivating 1930s design of East Finchley station in daylight when I arrived here earlier today, as well as seeing it after dark when I leave.

Illuminated in the mid-evening darkness, the station looks even more like a magical 1930s alternate universe than it had done earlier in the afternoon daylight.

Related Post: ‘Vita & Virginia’, Dundee Contemporary Arts (DCA)

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