Just For Lookin' Thru

Jack Nicholson, Leonardo di Caprio and Matt Damon star in this gripping thriller. Nicholson is an Irish mafia crime boss controlling Matt Damon as his plant in the State Troopers, and Leonardo di Caprio plays the undercover policeman placed inside the Irish mafia, but without full and legal membership of the police, and without protection. It's a tense, edgy drama, and becomes a race against time for each agent to unmask the other before being unmasked himself. It is also very violent. Matt Damon is successful and smooth, and seems in control all the way through while Leonardo di Caprio is alone, at risk, and playing a dangerous game. The acting is superb, and the ending clever and surprising; Jack Nicholson is menacing and strong, without any of his frequent maniacal eccentricities; di Caprio is impressive and on fine form, while Matt Damon recaptures some of the uncomfortable, chilling characteristics he used in The Talented Mr Ripley. It's an edge of the seat experience

Billed as an ‘evergreen performer’ Digance refers a lot to his age, and to that of the audience. His gentle humour and songs are delivered in a relaxed, intimate way, which makes relaxed and comfortable in his company within half a minute of his being on stage. He says he has his bus pass, and makes fun of our age worries, lifting any personal concerns into the public arena of this friendly gathering, and managing to make his audience feel affectionately towards the dreaded decline. One song is a scamper through a cornucopia of childhood memories, including every kind of sweet imaginable, and some toys and games which, to his surprise, most of those watching him tonight know too well, causing much laughter. His guitar playing is a delight, and his skills are varied, running through a variety of playing styles whilst giving each piece a ragtime feel. The music, and the humour, trips along with a laid back, quirky rhythm, and the warmth of the audience is evident. Richard Digance and his

One shouldn’t complain. It’s paid work. £6 per hour is better than £0 per hour and no work. Even so. Following the usual race to gather together the list of viewings for the day, the sets of keys, the names of viewers, and rapid briefing on directions to the property I hare off again to my favourite place to meet two sets of people. I arrive to find a Volvo estate blocking the parking area for two cars; there is nowhere to go for the first people, or for me. The Volvo belongs to the neighbour who parks it in the empty property as a burglar deterrent and he hasn’t been told we are coming out here today. To save him trouble I say to leave it there and I park in his place. This is a mistake. What seems the easiest solution is often a mistake. The viewers squeeze through the tiny lane, inching between the old stone walls, in an enormous Jaguar, and leave it in the lane. We go ahead with inspection of the property. To my disappointment the owner has still not had the steps and path pressu

Billed as a comedy, but a bit of a black one, this film is quirky and interesting. Emma Thompson is the writer who is controlling Will Ferrell's destiny by what she writes, and he has to race to reach her and persuade her to stop writing his death as the climax. For a tragedy, he has to die of course, but this is a comedy. Will Ferrell remains deadpan throughout, only breaking into a slight smile once or twice. It's fun as a writer's film, playing with the idea of storylines and outcomes, and Dustin Hoffman plays the Professor of English who helps to clarify the plot devices and explain how Emma Thompson's narrator is pulling the strings. Described as a playful and eccentric postmodern movie, it is thoroughly enjoyable to people who love story, or have studied English; we can congratulate ourselves on recognising familiar themes, but will it please a wider audience? Maybe there are enough English students out there. It's a clever plot, and well done.

A full day's viewings thank heaven, and out of the office where the phone never stops. I start with an open house at the seaside house with Mundic foundations so I am doomed to an hour in the stinking damp and dirt with the great hole cut in the floor exposing the true horror. It occurs to me that I could market this as an ideal opportunity to create a subterranean indoor pond with koi carp as a feature. With strengthened glass, this could be a striking feature of the hallway, and most fitting for a house with breathtaking sea views. Five parties come to look round and most are faint hearted but two are more game, and I tell them their minimum spend will be £40,000 to secure the foundations with top grade concrete, and to add a kitchen extension. After that, the expense will all be cosmetic and optional. The brave will make money here, but it's a big project. My next call is to my favourite property and the couple meet me outside and annoy me instantly. They park in someone e

I loved this beautifully paced, insightful and wise Russian tale about the arrogance and disrespect of youth towards the older generation, contrasted with the dignity, good manners, liberalism and respect of the country estate ‘little aristocrats’. Turgenev writes with great sensitivity, evoking the profound social change and conveying characters’ deep emotion without ever stating it; such understated writing and unhurried pace comforts and absorbs. He leaves the reader to infer what goes unsaid and, in this short novel, puts across a gently ironic overview of the social structure of the time; the liberal enlightened landowners are caught between trying, on the one hand, to give ‘their’ peasants autonomy, while on the other hand, they have the peasants mocking them and not seeming to want responsibility for their own living. The blurring of the old boundaries and systems is disquieting to everyone. He does kill off the dangerous young student scientist nihilist, who is a threat to ever