Winston's Winter

I have my concerns and reservations about our new government. Most revolve around its stability and its impact on the economy.

However, I have neither the foresight nor the inclination to dwell on them now. What I have though is a distaste and a concern about the events of last night. And, no, I don’t mean the supposed brinkmanship, the “missed” deadlines or even the decision. I mean the way it was handled; it was a mess.

Let’s start with Winston’s speech. First, it had a Trump-like credibility as Winston unsuccessfully tried to deny that a party with just 9 out of 120 seats and 7.2% of the votes was deciding who would govern us for the next 3 years. Then, he, again unsuccessfully, tried to defend how long it took to arrive at that decision, comparing it spuriously to the German election result whilst conveniently not mentioning that our problem was not the length of the deliberations but the number of missed deadlines—read promises—that Winston made. Then there was the clincher: Winter is Coming. A supposed downturn in the global economy persuaded Winston and his caucus that our only protection from it lay with him turning to the Left, instead of to the Right who had so effectively protected us from the Global Financial Crisis of 2007—2008.

We would have been better off electing Jon Snow.

And then, there was the whole unfolding event being predicated on the supposition that The Greens would join the Labour/NZ First coalition. Yes, it seemed a foregone conclusion and there was a Memorandum of Understanding with Labour to that effect. But only with Labour. It didn’t include NZ First. If I had been Bill English I would have been on the phone to James Shaw immediately after Winston made his announcement and before Shaw made his conference call. In fact, I would have made my call to Shaw immediately after the election and offered The Greens the opportunity to make a real change by becoming the environmental wing of a strong stable government—and shutting Winston out altogether and forever.

But, no, it wouldn’t probably have worked. The Green Party has its head so far up its arse it has perpetual tunnel vision and it will take a colossal and polluting dump for them to come out and see the real world.

So, one final word on last night’s surreal events: two, really: Kelvin Davis. Did you see the look on his face as he stood behind Jacinda during her acceptance speech? It certainly wasn’t the face of a winner; it was the face of what it was—a loser. A deputy leader of the party who would form the government but would not be the deputy leader of that government. I could actually feel sorry for him had he not been such an arrogant prat leading up to the election. As it is, he will probably be further punished for his demeanour last night—it was not a good look.

In fact, nothing about last night was a good look for the parties involved, for the country, for MMP, or, dare I say it, for the future. You might be right, Winston: winter may be coming. It may already have arrived.

Game of groans

I am a recent and late convert to Game of Thrones. I missed it when it was first broadcast in New Zealand but have viewed all the repeat screenings from the beginning currently playing on one of Sky’s pop-up channels ahead of the new season in April.
In terms of grandeur and scale, Game of Thrones is probably without precedent in television. And it could sit comfortably on the big screen. It is right up there with feature films such as Kingdom of Heaven, Gladiator and the hey-day of epics such as Ben Hur and El Cid. It has  a cast of thousands—8000 I read—and the attention to costumes and sets is exquisite.
So too the scripts.
But you know all this. There is a legion of fans in New Zealand and world-wide. You may well be one of them, and I am preaching to the already converted.
So, let me focus on one small part of the programme. A very small part of the programme, that, conversely, proves size does not matter when taken out of and beyond context.
I am talking about Peter Dinklage.
Dinklage plays Lord Tyrion Lannister, a Machiavellian character of epic proportions. Yet he and by connotation the character he plays is only 1.3 metres tall. In the programme Tyrion Lannister is described variously as a dwarf, half-man and an imp. Under the guise of fiction and fantasy you can obviously and refreshingly get away from political correctness. Lannister’s size is crucial to his character. There is no getting away from that. The scriptwriters have capitalised on it to great effect. Lannister is derided, humiliated and ridiculed because of his size. And this is within his own family!
But, here is the thing. For the viewer, with Dinklage in charge and in his capable hands and care, Lannister’s size become secondary. Put simply, Dinklage takes this character and imparts within it such finesses that the 1.3 metre Tyrion Lannister dominates the screen whenever he is on it. The camera loves him and Dinklage/Lannister obviously reciprocates, treating the camera (and the viewer) with respect and affection. In a single scene Dinklage can deliver us a gamut of emotions and within that self-same scene we can respond in equal measure with sorrow, sympathy, disgust and fear. And often humour.
The only other actors who have been able to do that for me are Robert Downey Jr and, in earlier days, Jimmy Cagney—significantly both also small of stature.
So, is there is lesson to be learned from that last fact—small men, accomplished actors, who can through force of will and personality alone make us believe anything?
Only that Winston Peters may indeed after all win the Northland by-election.