Ron's rages are sincere and — according to his wife — healthily cathartic. But can these splenetic outbursts loosen the grip of capitalism at its most monstrous?
BACK when I was a yoof, me and my mates’ favourite things were reggae music and kung fu films. Girls and football surely had their pleasures but they were fleeting and frequently all too elusive.
A weekend often led from the game to a dance and then to a late-night cinema. The vampire charms of Ingrid Pitt saw me through puberty but, equally, so did the intensity and fierceness of Angela Mao Ying.
Both brought more than pulchritude to my view of femininity. They were independent, direct women who took no nonsense.
RITA DI SANTO talks to Scottish-Irish filmmaker MARK COUSINS about his new panorama of world cinema The Story of Documentary Film
MARIA DUARTE, JAMES WALSH and ANDY HEDGECOCK review The Invite, My Father’s Island, Nirvanna: the Band, the Show, the Movie, and Oh My Goodness!
ALEX HALL is amused at the way the UFOs appear exactly where commercial interests, conspiracies, militarism and right-wing media overlap


