"Upside down boy, you turmn me, inside out and round and round." So sang Miss Ross, who might have been describing Rag Tale's seasick cinematography - a hand-held camera so anarchic, you half expect the cast to slide sideways off the screen into the aisles, as if the Captain's bridge of the Starship Enterprise were under attack. It's edgy, no? Just like the RnB soundtrack that punctuates the action. So 'now'.
The reality of newspaper journalism, as Rag Tale demonstrates, is more prosaic - much thumb-twiddling, followed by spurts of furious action - and it's easy to see why this business is mired in nervous breakdowns: in an environment where you're expected to argue that war is peace, freedom is slavery, and ignorance is strength - then promote the opposing view with equal conviction five minutes later - it's one of the most coronary-inducing of trades.
Such is the dilemma facing Piers Morgan-like tabloid editor Eddy (Graves, excellent), whose editorial line on the Royals has been hijacked by chairman Richard Morton (an excoriating McDowell), fishing for a knighthood. Morton has bargaining chips, having discovered Eddy's been having relations with his wife, deputy ed Mary (a nervy Leigh). The race begins to discredit Morton, and rescue the paper from terminal obsequiousness.
There's some okay satire among the Altman-style antics (everyone talks over one another, and nobody comes out of it looking good) and some good turns, including Ian Hart's gonzo snapper 'Morph' - so named for his devious Photoshopping skill - but this wicked whisper's so unreliable, you wouldn't hold the front page for it.
There's appropriately skimpy extras on this Metrodome 2006 release for a blink-and-you'll-miss-it movie. The deleted scenes add virtually nothing of interest or elucidation to an already skeleton-like framework, but short sequences include: Sally May attempting to ferry a drunk Eddy home and having drunken sex with him; Jason Leigh's overdose; and a rather touching little scene between Leigh and Ian Hart, in which we learn more about Ian Hart's background as a war photographer, before the drugs did for him.
Meanwhile, in the shortish 'Making Of' feature, director Mary McGuckian introduces her film with the observation, "Without doubt, it's a piece of fiction, a 'What If' scenario" (to an undoubted chorus of "too bloomin' right").
Fittingly, Simon Callow can't even remember his character's name. "The man I play is called Colin Cormack O'Connor... I don't think he is called that, actually. He's called Conol Cormack Rourke. I made it up myself, so I should know." The fictional paper itself, he reckons, is "pitched somewhere between the 'Sun' and the 'Daily Mail'..." The 'Daily Express', then? "With a bit more finesse." Ah, not the 'Daily Express' then.
John Sessions, Sarah Stockbridge, Lucy Davies and Rupert Graves pop up and say not very much about anything. Jennifer Jason Leigh gushes like only Americans on a British set can (she's been a big fan of Ian Hart's for years).
Nevertheless, as Ian Hart attests, "Actors are very lazy. We like to sit down and drink tea." Rag Tale, then, with its frenetic, improvised workouts must have been quite tough on the poor dears - and Malcolm McDowell compares McGuckian to 'Bob' Altman ("She really is pro the actor"). The paper, he adds, is not based on an existing one, but is kind of "a cross between the 'Sun' and the 'Daily Mail'".
The reality of newspaper journalism, as Rag Tale demonstrates, is more prosaic - much thumb-twiddling, followed by spurts of furious action - and it's easy to see why this business is mired in nervous breakdowns: in an environment where you're expected to argue that war is peace, freedom is slavery, and ignorance is strength - then promote the opposing view with equal conviction five minutes later - it's one of the most coronary-inducing of trades.
Such is the dilemma facing Piers Morgan-like tabloid editor Eddy (Graves, excellent), whose editorial line on the Royals has been hijacked by chairman Richard Morton (an excoriating McDowell), fishing for a knighthood. Morton has bargaining chips, having discovered Eddy's been having relations with his wife, deputy ed Mary (a nervy Leigh). The race begins to discredit Morton, and rescue the paper from terminal obsequiousness.
There's some okay satire among the Altman-style antics (everyone talks over one another, and nobody comes out of it looking good) and some good turns, including Ian Hart's gonzo snapper 'Morph' - so named for his devious Photoshopping skill - but this wicked whisper's so unreliable, you wouldn't hold the front page for it.
There's appropriately skimpy extras on this Metrodome 2006 release for a blink-and-you'll-miss-it movie. The deleted scenes add virtually nothing of interest or elucidation to an already skeleton-like framework, but short sequences include: Sally May attempting to ferry a drunk Eddy home and having drunken sex with him; Jason Leigh's overdose; and a rather touching little scene between Leigh and Ian Hart, in which we learn more about Ian Hart's background as a war photographer, before the drugs did for him.
Meanwhile, in the shortish 'Making Of' feature, director Mary McGuckian introduces her film with the observation, "Without doubt, it's a piece of fiction, a 'What If' scenario" (to an undoubted chorus of "too bloomin' right").
Fittingly, Simon Callow can't even remember his character's name. "The man I play is called Colin Cormack O'Connor... I don't think he is called that, actually. He's called Conol Cormack Rourke. I made it up myself, so I should know." The fictional paper itself, he reckons, is "pitched somewhere between the 'Sun' and the 'Daily Mail'..." The 'Daily Express', then? "With a bit more finesse." Ah, not the 'Daily Express' then.
John Sessions, Sarah Stockbridge, Lucy Davies and Rupert Graves pop up and say not very much about anything. Jennifer Jason Leigh gushes like only Americans on a British set can (she's been a big fan of Ian Hart's for years).
Nevertheless, as Ian Hart attests, "Actors are very lazy. We like to sit down and drink tea." Rag Tale, then, with its frenetic, improvised workouts must have been quite tough on the poor dears - and Malcolm McDowell compares McGuckian to 'Bob' Altman ("She really is pro the actor"). The paper, he adds, is not based on an existing one, but is kind of "a cross between the 'Sun' and the 'Daily Mail'".