Why Marty Supreme should win the best picture Oscar

Despite being set in the 50s, the film masterfully reflects modern-day anxieties, disconnection and obsession with nostalgia, all while reigniting interest in an unsung sport First things first: the best picture Oscar should go to Marty Supreme for the incredible job it has done in bringing new eyes to ping pong. A declining sport that has to be propped up by subsidy, this movie has single-handedly kept wiff waff alive even though no one cares about it any more. Kudos. Next, a confession. I watched this film the day it came out and haven’t seen it since*. That day also happened to be my birthday, a big birthday, and I wasn’t entirely steady when I entered the cinema that evening. I have sketchy recollections of the middle section – the bit between the bath collapsing and the plane to Japan. I also didn’t really like it much; I found it inconsequential and a bit amoral and I instantly resolved to forget the words to 4 Raws Remix (sample lyric: “my life is an opera”) as a result. Cont...

Harder Than the Rock review – reggae’s unsung heroes finally get their moment

Cimarons, the UK’s first reggae band, played with Jimmy Cliff and Bob Marley but barely made a penny; this heartwarming film follows their first gig in 30 years

The UK’s first reggae band deserves all the love and attention coming their way with the release of this documentary. It’s the untold story of Cimarons, and begins in 1967 at a bus stop in London’s Harlesden where two Jamaican-born Londoners, Locksley Gichie and Franklyn Dunn, met and formed a band. By the end of the decade Cimarons would become the go-to backing group for Jamaican artists touring the UK, playing with the likes of Jimmy Cliff and Bob Marley. The band recorded albums of their own, worked as session musicians for Trojan records and toured with the Clash and the Jam. “They were the spark that started a big flame” is how MC General Levy describes their influence. But they barely made a penny out of music. Today, the band’s singer Michael Arkk works as an officer cleaner. How did Cimarons become reggae’s forgotten heroes?

Partly it comes down to choices. The band never hired professional management. They were in it for the music, touring in a clapped-out van with no heating and broken windscreen wipers. They called themselves Cimarons after a TV western, and only later found out it meant “wild and free”. The name fits.

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