Sandy Tweeddale Band (with Lyndon Anderson), Roxy Assembly, Edinburgh Jazz and Blues Festival

 My first live music gig in over sixteen months.  Will the excitement of that milestone compromise my ability to write an objective review?  Yup, it certainly will, and I make no apology for that.  This was a homecoming, and emotions matter more than mere facts.  I think the musicians would agree with that sentiment, for they were clearly overjoyed to be in front of real clapping, cheering, foot-tapping people once again.

Tweeddale is one of the country's best known, and most respected, blues guitarists, making him an ideal man to be the first on stage act of the resurrected EJBF 2021.  He was backed by the drums, bass (upright and electric) and keyboards of Willie Mollison, Chris Agnew and Ali Petrie [with apologies to all or any of them whose name I've got wrong, but I've haven't been able to check that I heard them correctly), and joined, after the first number, by Geordie harmonicist and singer Lyndon Anderson.  

The tone, once the welcoming noise abated, was set by an audience member shouting out "Do you remember what to do?".  The opener provided an emphatic Yes.  A solid professional band who love the blues and play it with passion and affection.  Sandy has a good strong voice, not the most immediately recognisable perhaps, but one you feel immediately comfortable with.  His guitar work is excellent, on his many solos which show plenty of flair, and the intuitive support he provides for others.  Anderson took lead vocals on a couple of numbers and it would have been good to hear a bit more.  A special mention to Petrie who had some wonderful solos and looked on the verge of bursting with joy at being there.

Mostly they stuck to blues classics, but with a few of Tweeddale's own songs mixed in.  Half way through the quintet became duo, and Sandy and Lyndon did a couple of unplugged numbers, including one the former wrote during lockdown called "Ain't Goin' Out No More" - a feeling most of us have had at one time or another in the past year.  But the quieter numbers were few and the set got louder and rockier as time went on.  The show blurb said there would be no more than sixty minutes.  Fortunately Sandy's not too good with those sort of numbers so the encore took us about twenty minutes past that!   

This was a socially distanced audience of course, with around fifty people in a space that could easily hold three or four hundred, so the atmosphere wasn't quite what it would once have been.  But what a difference to be in the same room as the musicians, to have the volume up high, the clarity of  the notes, and be able to focus on the individual musicians you want to watch, not what the director dictates.  

It's good to be back.

Supernova

 A supernova is a star that has died, exploding brightly as it expired, and spread it's molecules across the universe.  Astronomy, and the light beyond our own world, play a big metaphorical role in Harry McQueen's exploration of confronting mortality, as well as adding visual sparkle.

Pianist Sam (Colin Firth),  writer Tusker (Stanley Tucci) and dog Ruby are on a road trip, the end point to be Sam's first live gig in a long time.  Their venerable camper van heads north toward the Lake District, and the couple's bickering, joking and shared memories quickly take us into a decades old relationship of warmth and mutual support.  They revisit an old lakeside haunt from their earliest days together, spend a night parked up outside a rural Spar supermarket.  It feels casual, relaxed, even if Sam seems to fuss a bit.

But when Tusker isn't where he's supposed to be Sam's fussing turns to panic.  His swift pursuit finds the other man, and Ruby, up a country lane where they've almost been hit by a car.  Tusker is in the early stages of dementia, and wandering off like this is becoming a concern for Sam.  His fussing and panic have solid ground to stand on.

They stay with Sam's sister and family where, to his surprise, Tusker has organised a reunion for all their closest friends.  He has given this trip more thought, more long term planning, than Sam had realised.  The reasons become clearer when Sam discovers the secret Tusker has been keeping from him, exploding into their relationship.

Selflessness, selfishness, love and fear are jumbled together until it's hard to tell one from another.  When does caring become over-caring?   Can you control the memories you leave behind?  Is love keeping hold or letting go?  How do we deal with mortality when it starts to run towards us?  The film raises many questions, offers no answers.  But why should it, when they will differ for everyone?

With a subject that could easily fall into sentimentality, both script and performances largely avoid that trap to give us an honest portrayal of the joy and messiness and uncertainty of human relationships.   Firth and Tucci are a delight to watch at their craft, the Englishman taking the greater plaudits for his cautious stoicism diving in to a full blown cocktail of conflicting emotions.  The cinematography is wonderful too, the Lake District never looked better.   Wide angles capture the space they move through, tight in close ups bring intensity, anxiety and involvement to the sensitive exchanges.  This draws the audience into some sad, touching and compelling moments, without feeling emotionally manipulative.  This film seeks out your humanity, not your tears, a proper antidote to Hollywoodism.

A final word of praise for the opening sequence, a simple audiovisual treat of light and piano which sets the scene beautifully.

Recommended.

Footnote : They're a gay couple.  So what?  It's good to see a gay relationship feature in a story where their sexuality is totally irrelevant, and the story would work just as well if they were straight.