Issue 8 of New Empress Magazine is now out to readers and subscribers and it’s undoubtedly our best issue to-date. It is the Ghost of Movie’s Past issue and thus contains elements of cinema that have been lost, forgotten or simply keep coming back to haunt us. Educate yourself on River Pheonix’s last rise in Dark Blood. Find out who Roald Dahl’s Gremlins were and learn more about lost, VHS-only film classics that are reason enough in themselves to shell out for a video player at your local car boot sale.

There are also a range of topical features and a whole section dedicated to lost films. If you want to subscribe simply click here. January subscribers get a free DVD with their subscription, though I feel obliged to warn you that one of those DVDs is Glitter.

“Oh George! You didn’t jump in the river. How sensible of you.”

Going so far as to Google the subject I found a digitised tidal wave of blog articles, forum posts and general rants about the fact that in spite of the show of the “Sister Suffragettes” song the film actually promotes anti-feminist sentiment. Mrs Banks’s devotion to the suffragette charge is actually portrayed, according to the aforementioned digitised tidal wave, as the root cause of her neglecting her children. Ultimately the only remedy for this is for her to give up her engagement with equality symbolised, apparently, by the moment when she ties her suffragette sash to the children’s kite at the end of the film.

“You know how the cause infuriates Mr Banks”

Although many of the online articles about Mrs Banks cite the 1963 publication of “The Feminine Mystique” as an important morsel of context I’m finding it difficult in my own head to think of the 1964 Disney film as a significant cinematic backlash against the writings of Betty Friedan. Surely if this was the case there would be more openly submissive moments from Mary Poppins herself…and perhaps fewer tap dancing penguins?

Like just about everything in art, film, literature and life I guess the nature of the feminist underdones in Mary Poppins is down to personal interpretation. Yes! Mrs Banks’s simpering is unbecoming for a seemingly scrappy suffragette who hangs about with the likes of Emmeline Pankhurst but it’s also realistic to the period in which the film is set and the class to which the family are supposed to belong. I never interpreted her tying the sash to the kite as her giving up the suffragette cause but more as a realisation that there was a balance to be struck between her responsibilities to womankind and her responsibilities to her children. Plus Mr Banks is shown to be just as negligent of those dough-faced little tykes, if not more so, on account of his job in the city and has to make sacrifices in his standing there in order to better attune himself with his family. Doesn’t that count for anything?

Most of the down-with-Disney online reports like to highlight the fact that the author of the original books, P.L. Travers, was less than enamoured by the film version and she was particularly appalled by Mrs Banks tying her sash to Jane and Michael’s kite at the end. Having read the first of her books, in the name of research, however and having found not one mention of the word ‘suffragette’ I’m sceptical about just how factual these reports are. She definitely felt that Julie Andrews was a deeply diluted version of her haughty, dismissive creation but whether or not she truly felt that the cause of feminism had been set back by the creative license Disney took with her work remains unclear. Are these online crusaders genuine feminine freedom fighters with valid points and questions or uber-paranoid internet junkies bent on the downfall of large corporations? I’ll leave it to you, dear reader, to decide. But before you do please note: just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you.

From the reports I’ve heard from friends dating websites / speed-dating events are actually just a more efficient method of being dumped and tend to take a lot of the romance out of…well, romance. And if, like me, you’re unwilling to settle for anything less than opaque, unpredictable Alabama and Clarence style love, if you abhor the idea of mediocrity in matters of the heart, then have I got some alternative avenues to adulation for you?!

In addition to placing your, notably glib, personal in the London Review of Books you might also consider:

1. Using your literary preferences to find love. A new website has been launched that helps you find potential beaus based on their book tastes. Unlike all of the mainstream sites you know that you’ve instantly got something in common with all of the members i.e. you read on a regular basis.

2. Volunteering some of your free time to a cause that you really care about. Not only will you be able to gloat to everyone about how altruistic you are, you’ll meet people who are like-minded and who care about the same things you do. A great foundation for a relationship if ever there was one.

3. Actually pursuing your interests. Properly. If you like film, join a film club. If you like to sing, join a local singing group or form your own band. I know it’s sometimes difficult to find time but you should make time for the things you really enjoy about life and there is a social element to just about every hobby – even the really geeky ones. It’s another great way to meet people who share your common interests.

4. Looking out for single’s nights at art galleries and museums. You could go to a speed-dating event where you have to “sell yourself” in 3 minutes to someone who is more concerned about how their sales pitch is coming across or you could go and look at some cool cultural stuff and see if anyone catches your eye. I know which one I’d rather be doing.

5. Harrassing one of your friends into hiring a hooker as a birthday gift for you. Just make sure you’re his or her first job, that they have a penchant for Kung-Fu flicks and think that “anytime of day is a good time for pie.” It can’t fail. Trust me. I saw it in a movie once.

Recently I caught the tail-end (no pun intended) of “Who Framed Roger Rabbit” -the film that secured all of those stunning BT adverts for Bob Hoskins. I’d forgotten just how much of a genius Christopher Lloyd is when it comes to comic acting and I was also reminded about why Jessica Rabbit is such a sex symbol for the men of my generation. If you’re willing to get over the fact that she’s a cartoon, it’s easy to see why she is considered by some as the perfect woman: that long mane of red hair, a criminally curvaceous figure and the voice of a super-vixen which, for the record, actually belonged to quick-tongued actress Kathleen Turner…who could resist?

She’s sultry enough to make your eyes pop out of your head in true toon style and the real bonus with our Jess of course is just because she’s drop dead gorgeous doesn’t mean that she’s out of your league. She makes it clear that the reason she fell so deeply in love with her “Honey Bunny” is his ability to make her laugh (the fact that he’s a rabbit and therefore probably a bit of a goer, of course, has nothing to do with it). What the big film execs are saying here lads is that sun tans and six packs are for shmucks; as long as you’ve got a stunning personality you could still end up with the likes of Jessica…which doesn’t at all sound like the fantasy of some lonely backroom writer who is ugly as sin.

Seeing Mrs Rabbit strutting around in that infamous dress that, just about, covers what it needs to got me thinking about other cartoon characters who have adopted the sex factor over the years. I’ve heard Tinkerbelle mentioned by a few of my friends. Granted, she’s not much of a talker but she does have a mischievous streak and thus tends to appeal to those in the market for a fiesty blonde. Daphne Blake from Scooby Doo (who I always thought was a bit of a benign character but, hey, I’m not a hot-blooded male) and The Little Mermaid are also on most men’s animated wish list. Elastigirl from The Incredibles has also been discussed as a possibility. Initially I was somewhat stumped by this as she’s quite a motherly character, then it occurred to me that her unique stretching abilities probably do have their advantages in the bedroom. I’d really rather not comment, however, on what those advantages might be.

One character who I have had a bit of a mixed response over in my impromptu and often unwelcome poll is the Cadbury’s Caramel Bunny from the well-remembered advert. I suppose the whole concept is a bit of a tip of the hat to all those people who found Bugs Bunny attractive when he masqueraded as a woman in Looney Toons (you know who you are). I know that, unlike Jessica, she’s a rabbit in the real sense of the word but she’s still a bit of a sassy lass. She’s got those long eyelashes that bat continuously to get Mr Beaver’s attention and her sugary, seductive voice probably provided the British male population with more melting moments than the chocolate itself. Other perks include her having a seemingly endless supply of chocolate to dole out whenever she feels like it and her persistence that everyone must “Take it Easy.” Those are three words that I’ll bet most blokes would like to hear their girlfriend say more often.

Just think about it: your days of trouble and toil would be over. She’d say things like “Take it easy, I’ll cook tea so you can watch the football.” And “Of course you can play on your X-Box for the next eight hours. Take it Easy.” And you’d probably also hear: “Have some chocolate! It will make you feel good about life and I’ve got an endless supply from all those ads I did anyway” quite a lot too. Bunking up with the bunny isn’t sounding too shabby now is it? I can’t be the only one to see this. What do you think? Is she a fox or just a mere rabbit afterall?

My alarm sounded at 4:15am. The alarm on my phone plays a very bizarre, somewhat discordant song that sounds as though it was once the theme tune to a tragic 1980’s game show that was axed before it ever began. Sadly because I chose a contract mobile phone that is more intelligent than I am, I don’t know how to change it to something less caustic to the ear. The plus side is, it makes you get out of bed to turn the damn thing off, which when you’re due to be at King’s Cross for the first train in to Paris is a very good thing.

After getting dressed in the dark, and leaving my flat looking like I had, and enduring a thirty minute tube journey with a strange assortment of North London characters (the odd breed who get up before sunrise on a regular basis) I arrived at St Pancras. The lighting there is not kind at the best of times, but with my tiredness and bleariness its bright bulbs were enough to make my eyes water and make my mind wonder what I was doing out of bed so early. Thankfully my travelling companion had had the foresight to buy me a small cuddly toy as a belated birthday present. I perked up a bit after that.

The unique thrill of chunneling my way to the continent was sadly lost on me as I used the train journey as an opportunity to take a much needed power nap. I was however greeted with a beautiful French dawn when I did eventually prise my eyes open to see the vast wintery landscape collaged beautifully through the window.

Once in Paris we headed straight to Montmatre. Domicile de Amelie Poulin and the Sacre-Coeur: a Roman Catholic church dedicated as the name would suggest to the sacred heart of the saviour. Now I’m not exactly big on Christianity but as a piece of architecture the Sacre-Coeur is breathtaking – for me quite literally. We decided to visit the very top of the structure and unfortunately for me this meant climbing a series of very tight and winding staircases. I think I had to stop three times before we reached the top to catch my breath, but in my defence I hadn’t had any breakfast and I work in an office job where I never leave my seat all day. Of course I’m out of shape.

This said, the rigorous work out and high anxiety were well worth the amazing perspective when we got to the top. We marvelled at the beauty of the early morning Parisian cityscape, at the buildings palid in a sun that was still stretching from it’s sleep and at the Eifel Tower which stood proudly in the distance piercing a sky of the clearest blue.

The descent was easier on my lungs but considerably more dizzying than going up and I think my friend sensed that if we didn’t have breakfast soon I was likely to pass out. We chose a table at a small cafe and were greeted by a waiter who didn’t look all that French.

“You want eggs” he said, as a statement rather than a question.
“Croissants?” I ventured.
“Croissants finished,” he replied. “You want eggs.”

We had eggs. To his credit, they were very nice eggs and I soon managed to get over the disappointment that the waiter didn’t seem to have a penchant for stripy T shirts or wearing berets at a jaunty angle (I think I watched Eurotrip one too many times – Scotty doesn’t know!).

Sadly for my friend having breakfast resulted in me slipping into a rather hyperactive mood fuelled by my sudden sense of being overwhelmed by the romanticism of Paris…and admittedly a little bit of sleep deprivation left over from the night before. From our breakfast table we roamed the city from end to end and I never missed a beat. I just couldn’t help myself. Everytime bells rang I insisted on wailing “the bells, the bells” in my best Quasimodo voice. Everytime we passed a McDonalds I would reconstruct the car scene from Pulp Fiction declaring the words “Royale with Cheese” with enough tongue-in-cheek vigour to make Samuel L Jackson himself very proud. And everytime we passed anything of iconic status I would insist on taking pictures of my new cuddly toy next to said landmark a la Amelie and the gnome.

This caused a great deal of amusement and we could no doubt be heard cackling from far away at Pont Neuf, The Notre Dame and The Eifel Tower. Other tourists weren’t quite sure about my affinity for toy photography overlooking the Seine and passed by looking somewhat bemused before letting a little snigger slip out once they felt they had reached a safe enough distance. What can I say? Regardless of where I go I always like to leave a lasting impression. Besides, people should know better than to let me loose in a strange city equipped with a cuddly toy and a digital camera. It’s just asking for trouble.