State of the awards

Eva Green (pictured) has recently moved to London, for work. Her talented work in Casino Royale has put her on the UK map and last night she won a major BAFTA (the British equivalent of an Oscar, which is a bit like saying a damp afternoon in Brighton is the equivalent of Miami beach) for rising star. Green, who was soundly cheek-pecked by rising new Bond Daniel Craig, is no doubt the most popular newcomer in town.

The best BAFTA film was The Queen. Frears, the director, hoisted his trophy and half-heartedly announced himself "Queen of the world".

Ricky Gervais was a presenter, and seemed nervous and rude (his persona?), insulting several "people who don't speak English" who had won awards - as if talent is bounded by language: hardly the message of another nominee for Best Picture, Babel.

The Last King of Scotland, a film based on the novel by poet and author Giles Foden, won for Best British Film, Best Adapted Screenplay and Best Lead Actor (Forrest Whitaker). Bizarrely - and perhaps unforgivably - none of the three groups to come up to express thanks for their wins even mentioned Foden - indeed FW thanked the adapter of the screenplay for his "great characters" - surely a gift, originally, of the man who wrote the book on which their success was based?

Meanwhile, same time, different bat channel, apparently the Grammys happened. Lumbering though they may be, they're the music awards of note. I was glad to see the RHCP win best Rock Album, as Stadium Arcadium is a superb double album, but was sorry that the great Yeah Yeah Yeahs lost out to weird Gnarls Barkley for best Alternative album. More oddly, the great reggae album Youth lost in its category; a shame, since it is a thrillingly mythic and eccentric work.

Of course, The Grammys also saw several Phoenixian moments - the rise of the newborn The Police - let's hope they have another Ghost In The Machine within them - and the celebration of The anti-war Dixie Chicks - the times may be a'changing. In fact, even Bob Dylan won a Grammy. 2007 or 1967?

IQ AND THE POETS - ARE YOU SMART?

When you open your mouth to speak, are you smart? A funny question from a great song, but also, a good one, when it comes to poets, and poetry. We tend to have a very ambiguous view of intelligence in poetry, one that I'd say is dysfunctional. Basically, it goes like this: once you are safely dead, it no longer matters how smart you were. For instance, Auden was smarter than Yeats , but most would still say Yeats is the finer poet; Eliot is clearly highly intelligent, but how much of Larkin 's work required a high IQ? Meanwhile, poets while alive tend to be celebrated if they are deemed intelligent: Anne Carson, Geoffrey Hill , and Jorie Graham , are all, clearly, very intelligent people, aside from their work as poets. But who reads Marianne Moore now, or Robert Lowell , smart poets? Or, Pound ? How smart could Pound be with his madcap views? Less intelligent poets are often more popular. John Betjeman was not a very smart poet, per se. What do I mean by smart?

"I have crossed oceans of time to find you..."

In terms of great films about, and of, love, we have Vertigo, In The Mood for Love , and Casablanca , Doctor Zhivago , An Officer and a Gentleman , at the apex; as well as odder, more troubling versions, such as Sophie's Choice and Silence of the Lambs . I think my favourite remains Bram Stoker's Dracula , with the great immortal line "I have crossed oceans of time to find you...".

THE SWIFT REPORT 2023

I am writing this post without much enthusiasm, but with a sense of duty. This blog will be 20 years old soon, and though I rarely post here anymore, I owe it some attention. Of course in 2023, "Swift" now means one thing only, Taylor Swift, the billionaire musician. Gone are the days when I was asked if I was related to Jonathan Swift. The pre-eminent cultural Swift is now alive and TIME PERSON OF THE YEAR. There is no point in belabouring the obvious with delay: 2023 was a low-point in the low annals of human history - war, invasion, murder, in too many nations. Hate, division, the collapse of what truth is, exacerbated by advances in AI that may or may not prove apocalyptic, while global warming still seems to threaten the near-future safety of humanity. It's been deeply depressing. The world lost some wonderful poets, actors, musicians, and writers this year, as it often does. Two people I knew and admired greatly, Ian Ferrier and Kevin Higgins, poets and organise

E Y E W E A R, THE BLOG - FREEDOM MEANS BEING UNAFRAID TO WRITE WHAT YOU THINK

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