The Hunger Games

As always, another busy week. Last week, among the usual gym sessions and driving lessons, I managed to fit in a date night with Liam. Starting off with a (ridiculously indulgent) meal at TGI Fridays, we went on to see the most talked-about film of the moment, The Hunger Games.

If I was one to believe what I read, it was apparent that The Hunger Games was a film targeted mainly at angst- ridden teenagers and the film itself had even been brandished with the label 'the new Twilight.' This description very nearly put me off- mainly due to my hatred of anything Twilight based.  It was only after reading this article in The Daily Mail that I realised I wouldn't be seeing a children's film and that perhaps it really was as gritty as the trailer had promised.

Frankly, I wasn't disappointed. My favourite thing about The Hunger Games? Katniss Everdeen. Surely there is nothing better than a powerful female heroine- and Katniss, played brilliantly by Jennifer Lawrence, had attitude in bucket loads. I found the premise of the film very interesting. Set in a post-apocalyptic future, it explored the possibility of what could happen in society if it was allowed to decline. The fictional nation of Panem, comprised of the wealthy capitol and the surrounding twelve districts, is an eerie and disturbing new world. As punishment for a rebellion against the government, the capitol has initiated The Hunger Games- a televised event in which two young people- a boy and girl- compete to fight to the death in an arena until there is one remaining victor. So far, so violent.

The film follows Katniss as she fights in the Hunger Games- running around in tight black lycra and making brooding stares at the camera. Tortured with fire, killer bees and the threat of the other contestants- Katniss is followed as she struggles to stay alive- whilst managing to keep her hair and make-up unrealistically perfect throughout. It's safe to say that my fourteen year old self was resurfacing the more I watched.

In many ways, The Hunger Games is just a very enjoyable futuristic adventure- and enjoy it I certainly did. For me, there was something reminiscent of dark and gritty television dramas, such as Charlie Brooker's Black Mirror and Liam was sure it reminded him of films from the 1980's- perhaps the camp outfits and over-dramatic performances weren't dissimilar to the old Tim Burton films. There have been good and bad reviews of The Hunger Games- and there seems to be a general consensus that it simply wasn't as good as anticipated. My opinion? It isn't very often I watch a film lasting nearly two and a half hours without looking at a clock. This one kept me captivated, entertained and longing for more- and I didn't check my watch once.

Teenage kicks

Gym changing rooms are a wonderful place. Here, all manner of life exists. Amidst the various naked bodies and smell of talcum powder, it is also a great place for gossip. The conversations of teenage girls are the best for eavesdropping as well as the most ridiculous. With their loud voices and overdramatic hyperbole, they offer up the details of their lives as if they were writing a detailed Facebook status. Indeed, spend five minutes in the same changing room as them and you are guaranteed to find out who they fancy, just how much they hate their hair and their favourite member of One Direction.

Let me just say now, I have nothing against teenage girls.  Up until a few years ago, I was one. Inevitably, the second half of my teenage years were considerably better than the first half. This was mainly due to replacing school with Sixth Form College and exchanging my Croydon facelift hairstyle for a proper cut. By their very nature, your teenage years are some of the best and worst of your life. In those six long years, you will provided with your fair share of memories and firsts. House parties and bottles of cheap Lambrini, the first time your heart was broken perhaps, or the first time you sat in a darkened room and listened to The Smiths.

The only place, however, where I cannot abide this particular species of teenage girl is at the gym. They attend in pairs mainly, their best friend almost a mirror image of themselves. They wear their hair in topknots, made fashionable perhaps by emaciated sumo wrestlers. Their faces are plastered in thick foundation and black eyeliner and their gym kits are small ensembles designed by Jack Wills or Pineapple dance studios.

I have observed that they spend most of their getting ready time moaning about their hair and slating one of their absent and less attractive ‘friends.’ ‘You know, if she lost some weight and wore mascara, she’d probably be ok’, says one to the other. ‘I know’ says her identical friend, pouting in the mirror. Who said the sisterhood was dead? Whilst in the gym, they spend the first five minutes deciding what machines they will use. They will predictably sigh when they spot that there aren’t two treadmills together and opt for something else to remain as a duo. Here, they will use a quarter of their strength on the cross-trainer, ensuring that the other three quarters are devoted to having a chat about Justin Bieber or that poor ugly girl from school.

When they have grown tired of each other, they’ll resort to their Iphones in the hope that playing Bejewelled and exercising at a glacial pace will improve the condition of their thighs. Twenty minutes later, whilst I am red and hot and sweating profusely, their eyeliner has not even smudged. Back to the changing rooms, they quickly apply more make-up, complain about their hair and have enough time to call their Mum to ask for a lift home before purchasing a Twix in the vending machines on the way out. It’s almost making me want to be fifteen all over again.