Excitement! 'The Hunger Games' starts at my local Multiplex this weekend, and from what I've seen, it looks like it's gonna be good. I've not read any of the books mind, and in truth had never heard of it until a couple of months ago, when the promotion machine started to crank up. It kind of got me thinking about what levels we might eventually sink to in the name of entertainment.
Okay, life is still sacred, as far as television programming goes, so we have not yet plummeted to the depths of Gladitorial style combat for prime viewing. But maybe that is only a matter of time. The bulk of TV listings is now dominated by what has been aptly named 'reality television'. This is a convenient tool to save on devising proper concepts, and take us out of our own mundane lives - into someone else's. It's usually ramped up to the hilt with some contrived conflict, but it seems to me that just having the mere ability to peer into some other person's world is enough to keep us glued to the sofa. After all isn't this what the soaps do? Except they're not reality, and we know it. So they can do anything they like, to a point. Interesting though, that two of the major, long standing serial dramas in the UK have both featured murders over the last two weeks.
That never happened years ago. Petty theft - and maybe an armed robbery might have been the worst we could expect in one year of viewing. I don't recall 'homicide on your very doorstep' being a common thread. Granted, we know a close to home murder is about the worst thing a neighborhood could experience, so to use it as a plot too often would be unrealistic, but its the dramatic parallel to reality that is interesting. That's why these events are so shocking, because they disturb our linearity, they make us realise things will eventually change . . . whether we like it or not.
To ponder why we love RT so much is maybe a tough question, because it probably says more about us than the participants on the screen. An age ago a well recognised and advanced for the time empire used the plight of the ill fated and despised to provide entertainment for the masses. The Roman Arenas must truly have been places where the most brutal visual horrors were played out, yet I wonder if Christians being torn limb from limb might have been the normal Saturday afternoon pleasure for many families of the rich and noble. Probably so. It wasn't a problem to them, you see. There was no moral dilemma to address. These filthy creatures were nothing to Rome after all, little better than animals.
These days we are more civilized. We fake and fudge our arena games, water them right down and find some way of making them fully acceptable. Get rid of the blood letting, but use just about every other situation one might face instead: Family feuds, infidelity, kitchen nightmares,weddings, blind dates, hidden cameras . . .
The only problem is, the list of the mundane will eventually burn out - and maybe we'll start to creep back . . .
That will never happen, right? But movies and books do keep on giving us this scenario speculatively. From 'The Running Man' years ago, to 'The Hunger Games' today, we still insist in fiction that the final offspring from this whimsical child might be the age old scenario we all fear. How bad must things get before we find good reason to pull Rome back out of the play box? Unthinkable? I don't know. Nothing surprises me these days. The call for capital punishment to be reinstated in Britain comes up year upon year as crime increases. What about giving the convicted felon a fighting chance for a change? Maybe manipulating a combat handicap for a10% chance of survival if it's an open and shut case - 60% if there's some doubt of guilt? Yes, it is a disgusting premise but some of the stuff in today's arenas dances on the fringes of poor taste. If you can get away with it, bad taste sells - and sells big.
Shows that purport to provide help and support now have a good excuse for their voyeurism. And maybe they do help the poor souls who voluntarily put themselves forward for the 'games'. But there is a price to be paid. Exposure, ridicule, and humiliation in front of a baying crowd is usually a standard, being goaded to the point of violence, before being ushered away by a nightclub bouncer for much needed counseling. Thank you, doctor.
Maybe this is a tried and trusted method of emotional cleansing. But it does boast a nice little bi-product of huge TV ratings, along with celebrity for the host, the heavies hired to protect them, and the counselors who comfort from the back.
Oh yes, we still have our own 'Hunger Games'. Maybe one day ancient Rome might return, to take us that one step further . . .
Tuesday, 20 March 2012
Sunday, 18 March 2012
Mind Games and a latex shark . . .
The mind is the writers playground - and for some it can be a lifetime's battlefield. It is the Gladitorial arena in which we fight all our internal battles before moving forward with life and its many dilemmas. For those who weave words, of course, the human mind is far more than the simple movie screen brought to us by directors of film. Forget all about 3D. When one is absorbed by the reading experience, when you're lost in the written word, no movie can match the vitality of the vision being played out before you.
Just why then is Hollywood spending millions on 3D, when we know the novelty is soon to wear off? Well, we've had 3D a few times before, but it was maybe a little before my time. Back then it was a new gimmick. Obviously, I never saw 'The Creature from the Black Lagoon' in 3D at the theatre. I have a standard DVD copy of the movie. A classic? That's a matter of opinion, but I personally don't think so. The interesting point is, there are films being released today of a similar ilk that are meant to wow us with spectacle for one thing, and then floor us with 3D action for another.
They don't.
We've already seen far too much. The advent of computer generated effects has ensured every situation imaginable can be flung onto the screen to blow us away . . . and unfortunately now, it's turning us away. I am currently reading 'The Woman in Black'. Apart from personally knowing the description of the locale, (which I can relate to because I live on the East Coast of England, close to where Susan Hill, who wrote the book grew up) I have found the experience of the written story more vivid and frightening than anything the movie could muster up. There has been no creepy music in my head, no real jump scares so far, yet the excursion has evoked far more unease for me. The film, for all its noble worth, has obeyed a requirement to employ standard horror devices to lay out its thrills. There are hence plenty of jumps, loud noises, blurry images of figures in the background, and children with expressionless pale faces . . .
There are, of course, certain ways and means of creating similar spills and chills in the written word; little tricks to make things move a little quicker or provide the 'jump'. A nice slow build up of description, followed by a single line paragraph usually does this quite nicely. You know, you ramble through a description for quite a bit about some guy coming up a flight of stairs in an old dusty house, and then in a single paragraph line at the very end you might suddenly declare . . .
'And the guy had no head.'
For heaven's sake, please don't slot in an exclamation mark after it. That would kill it dead! Okay, the example might be fairly crude, and it's not a great line, but you get the point. Stephen King and others use this technique to great effect time and again. So you can create cinematic effects on the written page. Of course, there are skills involved in all of this, to prevent it becoming hackneyed, to make it build up effectively; skills which I'm sure many of the writers who read this have already perfected.
So, let's allow the imagination have some sway, even in the movies. The insistence of some film makers to 'show' everything is a poor one, in my opinion. Just some insight, to let the audience do a little work themselves, to collaborate, must surely go a long way. I remember seeing 'Jaws' for the first time. I was absolutely terrified before I'd even entered the theatre, such was the ground work already laid by the hype, to ramp up any anticipation of unbridled fear. For me, the thing that was so great about that movie was the fact you saw barely anything of the shark for most of its running time. So when the rubber fish finally was revealed, the subconscious part of my head had already bought into it. I was convinced the thing was real, dangerous and very deadly.
And it was all because - 'the shark was not working.'
Apparently, this was the loud hailer declaration for most of the shoot. The mechanical shark, designed and constructed to replicate a Great White, failed many more times than it worked! Under pressure from the studio to finish the shoot Steven Spielberg had to devise ways to allow them to carry on filming. I get the feeling from recent interviews he had no idea this apparent annoyance was to become a masterstroke of good fortune. The initial intent was to show a hell of a lot more of the shark than finally ended up on screen. And boy are we glad now he didn't - because I believe it allowed 'Jaws' to become the masterpiece it is. The opening scene of Chrissie Watkins' death is so chilling because you are constantly expecting that Great White's snout to break through the water in a fountain of spray and gore.
You get to see a little more later as poor Alex Kintner gets munched. Even taking the scene in slow motion it's hard to make out what just happened. It kind of looks like the shark rolls over as it strikes, in the manner of a crocodile. Two fins flip over in the water and in the next second the boy is gone. Very effective. Again, as the movie reaches its nail chewing climax on the 'Orca', the 'three floating barrel technique' covers efficiently for the lack of a mechanical shark. When a barrel pops up, bobbing around in the waves, you know the shark is somewhere near. Actually, there's nothing there at all, but we all think there is.
Thankfully, the shark did work long enough for the movie to be finished, and when it did finally show up in full glory you could tell that no way could it be a real Great White, not even close. But by then Spielberg had played his winning move in the mind game and convinced us all of its deadly validity.
So who needs to see everything? Some of the worst horror writing currently published is that in which the author has seen fit to describe every last detail, of every last thing. From time to time this method may be desirable, even required, but I would venture to say that most decent stories and novels have managed without it.
So please, let's continue to let words stimulate the mind first . . . because we all know, massive IMAX screens, over used CGI and even, dare I say, 3D is never going to come close.
Just why then is Hollywood spending millions on 3D, when we know the novelty is soon to wear off? Well, we've had 3D a few times before, but it was maybe a little before my time. Back then it was a new gimmick. Obviously, I never saw 'The Creature from the Black Lagoon' in 3D at the theatre. I have a standard DVD copy of the movie. A classic? That's a matter of opinion, but I personally don't think so. The interesting point is, there are films being released today of a similar ilk that are meant to wow us with spectacle for one thing, and then floor us with 3D action for another.
They don't.
We've already seen far too much. The advent of computer generated effects has ensured every situation imaginable can be flung onto the screen to blow us away . . . and unfortunately now, it's turning us away. I am currently reading 'The Woman in Black'. Apart from personally knowing the description of the locale, (which I can relate to because I live on the East Coast of England, close to where Susan Hill, who wrote the book grew up) I have found the experience of the written story more vivid and frightening than anything the movie could muster up. There has been no creepy music in my head, no real jump scares so far, yet the excursion has evoked far more unease for me. The film, for all its noble worth, has obeyed a requirement to employ standard horror devices to lay out its thrills. There are hence plenty of jumps, loud noises, blurry images of figures in the background, and children with expressionless pale faces . . .
There are, of course, certain ways and means of creating similar spills and chills in the written word; little tricks to make things move a little quicker or provide the 'jump'. A nice slow build up of description, followed by a single line paragraph usually does this quite nicely. You know, you ramble through a description for quite a bit about some guy coming up a flight of stairs in an old dusty house, and then in a single paragraph line at the very end you might suddenly declare . . .
'And the guy had no head.'
For heaven's sake, please don't slot in an exclamation mark after it. That would kill it dead! Okay, the example might be fairly crude, and it's not a great line, but you get the point. Stephen King and others use this technique to great effect time and again. So you can create cinematic effects on the written page. Of course, there are skills involved in all of this, to prevent it becoming hackneyed, to make it build up effectively; skills which I'm sure many of the writers who read this have already perfected.
So, let's allow the imagination have some sway, even in the movies. The insistence of some film makers to 'show' everything is a poor one, in my opinion. Just some insight, to let the audience do a little work themselves, to collaborate, must surely go a long way. I remember seeing 'Jaws' for the first time. I was absolutely terrified before I'd even entered the theatre, such was the ground work already laid by the hype, to ramp up any anticipation of unbridled fear. For me, the thing that was so great about that movie was the fact you saw barely anything of the shark for most of its running time. So when the rubber fish finally was revealed, the subconscious part of my head had already bought into it. I was convinced the thing was real, dangerous and very deadly.
And it was all because - 'the shark was not working.'
Apparently, this was the loud hailer declaration for most of the shoot. The mechanical shark, designed and constructed to replicate a Great White, failed many more times than it worked! Under pressure from the studio to finish the shoot Steven Spielberg had to devise ways to allow them to carry on filming. I get the feeling from recent interviews he had no idea this apparent annoyance was to become a masterstroke of good fortune. The initial intent was to show a hell of a lot more of the shark than finally ended up on screen. And boy are we glad now he didn't - because I believe it allowed 'Jaws' to become the masterpiece it is. The opening scene of Chrissie Watkins' death is so chilling because you are constantly expecting that Great White's snout to break through the water in a fountain of spray and gore.
You get to see a little more later as poor Alex Kintner gets munched. Even taking the scene in slow motion it's hard to make out what just happened. It kind of looks like the shark rolls over as it strikes, in the manner of a crocodile. Two fins flip over in the water and in the next second the boy is gone. Very effective. Again, as the movie reaches its nail chewing climax on the 'Orca', the 'three floating barrel technique' covers efficiently for the lack of a mechanical shark. When a barrel pops up, bobbing around in the waves, you know the shark is somewhere near. Actually, there's nothing there at all, but we all think there is.
Thankfully, the shark did work long enough for the movie to be finished, and when it did finally show up in full glory you could tell that no way could it be a real Great White, not even close. But by then Spielberg had played his winning move in the mind game and convinced us all of its deadly validity.
So who needs to see everything? Some of the worst horror writing currently published is that in which the author has seen fit to describe every last detail, of every last thing. From time to time this method may be desirable, even required, but I would venture to say that most decent stories and novels have managed without it.
So please, let's continue to let words stimulate the mind first . . . because we all know, massive IMAX screens, over used CGI and even, dare I say, 3D is never going to come close.
Wednesday, 7 March 2012
Spend, spend, spend . . .
Good if we could, eh? The desire for cash wealth is something that consumes all of us. Okay, maybe 'wealth' is the wrong word to use. But we all need the green stuff, don't we? It's the thing that has a bearing on just about every aspect of human existence. The lack of it causes misery and hardship for anyone, and if we go from lack to total absence we are in real trouble. A wise man once said 'Money isn't everything', and maybe many could agree with him. Another dare I say, wiser man, gave an interesting addition to that pearl, which kind of changes the mood: 'Money isn't everything, but it ranks right up there with Oxygen!'
Yeah, that's funny. But it's true, isn't it? If you're quoting the first statement too often you are probably someone who could do with more cash. Even while we say it wearing a sickening grimace smile, we know in our gut that money is everything, truly as essential as Oxygen. But what's the point, you ask? Well, I kind of got thinking about the word 'spend'. It gets thrown around a lot. And it's not always talking about splashing cash, either. Spending quality time with those we love is what we all seem to want right now - and loads of spending money to go with it please! Maybe that's why all these big daily cash competitions do so well. And don't you just cringe when someone on welfare or Job Seeker's Allowance scoops 40 million on the lottery? Are we pleased for them? In your dreams.
Time verses money?
Which gets a higher billing? For me, Time wins hands down. It's the one darned illusion we can't fool with, or get back once we have 'spent' it. There it is again, that word. And as you get older it becomes more of a pressure just knowing how to spend it, because there's less of it for you left to waste. When you're a kid, looking out on a vast horizon of endless days - you know you've got plenty of years to grab all the things you dream about. I don't know about now, but when I was young there was an idealistic dream pot in which you could pick out any career of your choice. Johnny wanted to be an astronaut; Jimmy, a train driver; Jane, the President of the United States. In the classroom it was all doable, because there was a shimmering vista of procrastination time stretching out to infinity. Wait long enough, dream, and it would all happen. But for now, why not have some fun?
If time had a voice, it would be laughing its ass off. Because what we thought then was a slow flowing river, barely moving, was in fact a torrent, accelerating inexorably toward Niagra Falls. Johnny, now in his forties, is unemployed; Jimmy is working at McDonalds, and . . . Jane? Well, she's waiting to find out if it's twins this time around. Okay, I know. What a cynical old fart, you say. Maybe. Or possibly I'm just a realist. There are those people out there who do know how to win, so its not all bad. Shapeshifters. These folk started well and have made the miniscule 24 hours we all share really count. You probably know many of them: Stephen King, Oprah Winfrey, Steve Jobs, Richard Branson. Need I go on?
Take a look and see how these winners manipulated time, and so generated empire and great wealth into the bargain. Time didn't buffet them, they deftly slipped the bird and told it what to do. To me cash has always been Time's prisoner. Money is fluid. It will come easily - and go just the same. And every soul on Earth right now has the celluloid of their life running through the projector. Some of us are on the last reel. On the good side though, you can still be in a feel good film. They don't all have to end like a horror movie. It's not my place here to talk so much about self help. This blog is meant to be commentary on writing and movies, so I'm not sure how I got onto all this! Spending. Oh yes, that was it . . .
Time is precious friends, nay priceless. Money is drifting sand. Yet we put so much emphasis on the gaining of wealth. And why wouldn't we? Everything in our world screams about money, the lack of it, who's on the rich list, who's on the street? We may not always be able to spend wads of cash. But we all must spend time. No choice in the matter. We live in it, all traveling together down a seemingly straight river, flowing at one speed. Except what is an easy journey for some, is a white water nightmare for others. And even harder to take is the fact that we make many of the choices, Destiny is ours, and that's no movie. So choose well. Spend wisely, and know that kids have to have goals, as do we all. That's the thing we should teach before getting to the dream pot bit. See the destination, and then make plans to get there. Because Time won't wait. Whether you're rich or poor, it'll string you along, big time . . .
Unless, of course, you slip it the bird.
Yeah, that's funny. But it's true, isn't it? If you're quoting the first statement too often you are probably someone who could do with more cash. Even while we say it wearing a sickening grimace smile, we know in our gut that money is everything, truly as essential as Oxygen. But what's the point, you ask? Well, I kind of got thinking about the word 'spend'. It gets thrown around a lot. And it's not always talking about splashing cash, either. Spending quality time with those we love is what we all seem to want right now - and loads of spending money to go with it please! Maybe that's why all these big daily cash competitions do so well. And don't you just cringe when someone on welfare or Job Seeker's Allowance scoops 40 million on the lottery? Are we pleased for them? In your dreams.
Time verses money?
Which gets a higher billing? For me, Time wins hands down. It's the one darned illusion we can't fool with, or get back once we have 'spent' it. There it is again, that word. And as you get older it becomes more of a pressure just knowing how to spend it, because there's less of it for you left to waste. When you're a kid, looking out on a vast horizon of endless days - you know you've got plenty of years to grab all the things you dream about. I don't know about now, but when I was young there was an idealistic dream pot in which you could pick out any career of your choice. Johnny wanted to be an astronaut; Jimmy, a train driver; Jane, the President of the United States. In the classroom it was all doable, because there was a shimmering vista of procrastination time stretching out to infinity. Wait long enough, dream, and it would all happen. But for now, why not have some fun?
If time had a voice, it would be laughing its ass off. Because what we thought then was a slow flowing river, barely moving, was in fact a torrent, accelerating inexorably toward Niagra Falls. Johnny, now in his forties, is unemployed; Jimmy is working at McDonalds, and . . . Jane? Well, she's waiting to find out if it's twins this time around. Okay, I know. What a cynical old fart, you say. Maybe. Or possibly I'm just a realist. There are those people out there who do know how to win, so its not all bad. Shapeshifters. These folk started well and have made the miniscule 24 hours we all share really count. You probably know many of them: Stephen King, Oprah Winfrey, Steve Jobs, Richard Branson. Need I go on?
Take a look and see how these winners manipulated time, and so generated empire and great wealth into the bargain. Time didn't buffet them, they deftly slipped the bird and told it what to do. To me cash has always been Time's prisoner. Money is fluid. It will come easily - and go just the same. And every soul on Earth right now has the celluloid of their life running through the projector. Some of us are on the last reel. On the good side though, you can still be in a feel good film. They don't all have to end like a horror movie. It's not my place here to talk so much about self help. This blog is meant to be commentary on writing and movies, so I'm not sure how I got onto all this! Spending. Oh yes, that was it . . .
Time is precious friends, nay priceless. Money is drifting sand. Yet we put so much emphasis on the gaining of wealth. And why wouldn't we? Everything in our world screams about money, the lack of it, who's on the rich list, who's on the street? We may not always be able to spend wads of cash. But we all must spend time. No choice in the matter. We live in it, all traveling together down a seemingly straight river, flowing at one speed. Except what is an easy journey for some, is a white water nightmare for others. And even harder to take is the fact that we make many of the choices, Destiny is ours, and that's no movie. So choose well. Spend wisely, and know that kids have to have goals, as do we all. That's the thing we should teach before getting to the dream pot bit. See the destination, and then make plans to get there. Because Time won't wait. Whether you're rich or poor, it'll string you along, big time . . .
Unless, of course, you slip it the bird.
Monday, 5 March 2012
Filled with such hope . . .
I listened on the radio to the distinctive timbre of Nicholas Cage last week. He was being interviewed about his second excursion as Johnny Blaze, the Ghost Rider. I have to admit, he made a valiant attempt at making the film sound like it might have at least some artistic merit. It was, upon seeing it, a hope against hope. It's probably prudent to make sure you have a story before you go any further with a movie project and I sometimes wonder if finding a viable plot is ever part of the discussion process at all for what might be called 'knock off' movies. These are either sequels to films that surprisingly made money against the odds or 'fresh' interpretations of an already established theme - usually live action plays on R rated video games.
To my memory none of these adaptations have been anything to write home about, and some have been awful. Yet, someone clearly green lights this stuff, puts cash into it and we punters end up getting to see the finished product, warts and all. Well, we do if we're fool enough to pay the money and sit there long enough. I know - I just did it with Ghost Rider - in 'eye popping' 3D no less. Headache inducing more like. Even thirty seconds in I was dropping the glasses down my nose and checking to see if the film was actually 3D at all. It was another poorly retro fitted rendering that could surely provide no thrills. Worse was the fact that there was no 2D version on offer. It was buy glasses or nowt, my friends. I should really have gone for the nowt option. Don't get me wrong here. I am quite prepared to sit and give just about any film the benefit of the doubt, but there are limits, even for me. There was a time I think, when breathtaking special effects could cover a multitude of sins. It was a time I would suppose that if the effects looked good the film itself must be good. Okay, I was young and impressionable - and dazzled by technology.
I recall seeing 'Star Wars - A new hope' for the first time back in 1977. The Cinema showing it was a huge gothic place that had sat proudly through World War 1 and survived the heavy bombing of World War 2. The 'Dorchester' was a white painted carbuncle, single screen and (unknown to me at the time) only a couple of years off the end of it's run, before being closed and ending up as a storage facility for Comet Electrical. The film was to be projected in 70mm and a temporary surround sound system had to be specially installed for the stereo soundtrack. I don't think anyone who saw the film with an open mind that first week will ever forget it. I know I won't, even though I have seen it many times since. It was the most incredible thing I'd ever witnessed on film. Or maybe I just - thought it was. Watching again and trying to conjure up that same feeling of wonder now is, alas, an impossible task. The flaws I never noticed, that bugged George Lucas enough to want to go back and produce the special editions, had been brought to light, and that immaculate sheen got tarnished just a little. Not much. Just a little. But it was enough. It was enough to drag me out of suspension of disbelief, to realise I was just watching another movie after all, made by people who wanted to make money and not merely give me a cinematic thrill.
So, it's really not enough to depend on special effects, gunfights, fist fights, and general carnage to make a lesser film work. We are all certainly beyond this as a more discerning audience, and I gladly say hallelujah to that. A film worth it's keep is surely more than a money making vehicle, when in essence that's probably exactly what it's intention has to be in most cases. It's only when the veneer covering a movie is embarrassingly wafer thin, as in Ghost Rider - Spirit of Vengeance, that we see through it all, to the substandard product beyond the glitter and shimmer.
Next time I'll know better, or I'll insist my son goes to the Cinema with one of his mates . . .
To my memory none of these adaptations have been anything to write home about, and some have been awful. Yet, someone clearly green lights this stuff, puts cash into it and we punters end up getting to see the finished product, warts and all. Well, we do if we're fool enough to pay the money and sit there long enough. I know - I just did it with Ghost Rider - in 'eye popping' 3D no less. Headache inducing more like. Even thirty seconds in I was dropping the glasses down my nose and checking to see if the film was actually 3D at all. It was another poorly retro fitted rendering that could surely provide no thrills. Worse was the fact that there was no 2D version on offer. It was buy glasses or nowt, my friends. I should really have gone for the nowt option. Don't get me wrong here. I am quite prepared to sit and give just about any film the benefit of the doubt, but there are limits, even for me. There was a time I think, when breathtaking special effects could cover a multitude of sins. It was a time I would suppose that if the effects looked good the film itself must be good. Okay, I was young and impressionable - and dazzled by technology.
I recall seeing 'Star Wars - A new hope' for the first time back in 1977. The Cinema showing it was a huge gothic place that had sat proudly through World War 1 and survived the heavy bombing of World War 2. The 'Dorchester' was a white painted carbuncle, single screen and (unknown to me at the time) only a couple of years off the end of it's run, before being closed and ending up as a storage facility for Comet Electrical. The film was to be projected in 70mm and a temporary surround sound system had to be specially installed for the stereo soundtrack. I don't think anyone who saw the film with an open mind that first week will ever forget it. I know I won't, even though I have seen it many times since. It was the most incredible thing I'd ever witnessed on film. Or maybe I just - thought it was. Watching again and trying to conjure up that same feeling of wonder now is, alas, an impossible task. The flaws I never noticed, that bugged George Lucas enough to want to go back and produce the special editions, had been brought to light, and that immaculate sheen got tarnished just a little. Not much. Just a little. But it was enough. It was enough to drag me out of suspension of disbelief, to realise I was just watching another movie after all, made by people who wanted to make money and not merely give me a cinematic thrill.
So, it's really not enough to depend on special effects, gunfights, fist fights, and general carnage to make a lesser film work. We are all certainly beyond this as a more discerning audience, and I gladly say hallelujah to that. A film worth it's keep is surely more than a money making vehicle, when in essence that's probably exactly what it's intention has to be in most cases. It's only when the veneer covering a movie is embarrassingly wafer thin, as in Ghost Rider - Spirit of Vengeance, that we see through it all, to the substandard product beyond the glitter and shimmer.
Next time I'll know better, or I'll insist my son goes to the Cinema with one of his mates . . .
Sunday, 4 March 2012
If I had a Hammer . . .
Nice to see Hammer films are back in the cinema. Needless to say they have seen a bit of a re-vamp (no pun intended, but I did laugh as I wrote that!) and obviously operate now within the sphere of modern day film making. When I recently sat at my local Multiplex through yet another repeat of that damn Muppet commercial for Orange phones, waiting patiently for 'The Woman in Black' to start, I was barely expecting it when the new Hammer logo showed up. It took me by complete surprise. It kind of looks like the one Marvel Studios use; a subliminal rapid flashing montage of images from past classics which flit before your eyes and then are gone in a second. But all the 'stuff' is there, deep in your subconscious, as quick as a flash.
Every now and then the TV executive powers stagger back from a pub lunch and dig one of the 'classic' Hammer films out of the dusty store room to treat us to some late night fright fare. Some of these works are admittedly pretty awful but others do deserve to be marked with admiration. I don't know why Christopher Lee has tried to forget wearing the Prince's cape, like it was something to deny for a 'serious' actor. The early Hammer Dracula movies are great entertainment. To see Michael Gough laying his performance on with a trowel in 'Horror of Dracula' fills me with sheer delight, even now. The blood fest that is 'Taste the blood of Dracula' must have totally cleaned out the effects stockroom of fake blood. And boy was it fake; like a mix of Heinz tomato ketchup and a tin of concentrated puree, ever ready to be thrown, drunk, spilt and spattered in a sickeningly overplayed, exquisite melange of grue! By todays standards I suppose many of those X rated shockers would struggle to make a 12A certificate. That's how far the line has moved on how much the impressionable, unsullied mind can tolerate. What once opened the mind's door to a Hammeresque nightmare in the 1970's is almost laughable today.
But not quite . . .
Watching 'The Devil Rides Out' one New Years Eve many, many moons ago, is a memory I'll carry as long as I live. There were a few of us gathered that winter night; friends, my younger brother and myself, choosing by a majority vote to view the late night horror movie as an alternative to enduring Andy Stewart's Highland sing and fling into yet another freezing cold January first. My parents were out, downing their umpteenth pint in some club or other, presumably teeing up to sing Auld Lang's Syne with people they didn't know from Adam, and would probably never see again this side of doomsday. Needless to say they would not be crashing our little party any time before 1 a.m. and wouldn't make much sense for some hours after that. So we settled in with crisps and Lemonade (we were basically good kids you see, and did not consume alcohol. You know the sort . . . nerds) to watch what we figured would be fairly tame fare.
Well, I have seen 'The Devil Rides Out' since then, within the last three years, in fact. And although the special effects look rather hokey to a more cynical and mature eye, it still holds for me as one of the most terrifying films Hammer ever produced. To the eyes of teenagers it truly was relentless terror. Watching as Mocata (played with casual menace by Charles Gray) sank to the very depths of Hell to summon diabolical creatures, we threw our crisps into the air and broke nervous wind with terrifying aplomb. Christopher Lee was marvellous as the heroic Count de Richleau, expert in the Occult, and the only one who seemed to have any chance of thwarting Mocata's plans.
I remember we were terrified by this film - and spoke about it well into February of that year. It illustrated that Hammer were in the business of making quality chillers, at least in the late 50's and 60's. It was only in the 70's things began to go somewhat awry, as Hammer's desire to retain high box office edged their efforts toward more nudity, sex, and maybe just one too many Dracula movies.
Eventually, the Hammer badge faded, to be replaced by paler imitators. Still, we have the back catalogue to enjoy, and those who followed in the Hammer footprints I suppose are not completely without merit. However, if you want that cosy, ghoulish feel of a well made British horror movie, Hammer is the one to go for. There are many older films under the H banner, but if you like it fresh, catch up with 'Woman in Black'. I suspect you won't be disappointed . . .
Every now and then the TV executive powers stagger back from a pub lunch and dig one of the 'classic' Hammer films out of the dusty store room to treat us to some late night fright fare. Some of these works are admittedly pretty awful but others do deserve to be marked with admiration. I don't know why Christopher Lee has tried to forget wearing the Prince's cape, like it was something to deny for a 'serious' actor. The early Hammer Dracula movies are great entertainment. To see Michael Gough laying his performance on with a trowel in 'Horror of Dracula' fills me with sheer delight, even now. The blood fest that is 'Taste the blood of Dracula' must have totally cleaned out the effects stockroom of fake blood. And boy was it fake; like a mix of Heinz tomato ketchup and a tin of concentrated puree, ever ready to be thrown, drunk, spilt and spattered in a sickeningly overplayed, exquisite melange of grue! By todays standards I suppose many of those X rated shockers would struggle to make a 12A certificate. That's how far the line has moved on how much the impressionable, unsullied mind can tolerate. What once opened the mind's door to a Hammeresque nightmare in the 1970's is almost laughable today.
But not quite . . .
Watching 'The Devil Rides Out' one New Years Eve many, many moons ago, is a memory I'll carry as long as I live. There were a few of us gathered that winter night; friends, my younger brother and myself, choosing by a majority vote to view the late night horror movie as an alternative to enduring Andy Stewart's Highland sing and fling into yet another freezing cold January first. My parents were out, downing their umpteenth pint in some club or other, presumably teeing up to sing Auld Lang's Syne with people they didn't know from Adam, and would probably never see again this side of doomsday. Needless to say they would not be crashing our little party any time before 1 a.m. and wouldn't make much sense for some hours after that. So we settled in with crisps and Lemonade (we were basically good kids you see, and did not consume alcohol. You know the sort . . . nerds) to watch what we figured would be fairly tame fare.
Well, I have seen 'The Devil Rides Out' since then, within the last three years, in fact. And although the special effects look rather hokey to a more cynical and mature eye, it still holds for me as one of the most terrifying films Hammer ever produced. To the eyes of teenagers it truly was relentless terror. Watching as Mocata (played with casual menace by Charles Gray) sank to the very depths of Hell to summon diabolical creatures, we threw our crisps into the air and broke nervous wind with terrifying aplomb. Christopher Lee was marvellous as the heroic Count de Richleau, expert in the Occult, and the only one who seemed to have any chance of thwarting Mocata's plans.
I remember we were terrified by this film - and spoke about it well into February of that year. It illustrated that Hammer were in the business of making quality chillers, at least in the late 50's and 60's. It was only in the 70's things began to go somewhat awry, as Hammer's desire to retain high box office edged their efforts toward more nudity, sex, and maybe just one too many Dracula movies.
Eventually, the Hammer badge faded, to be replaced by paler imitators. Still, we have the back catalogue to enjoy, and those who followed in the Hammer footprints I suppose are not completely without merit. However, if you want that cosy, ghoulish feel of a well made British horror movie, Hammer is the one to go for. There are many older films under the H banner, but if you like it fresh, catch up with 'Woman in Black'. I suspect you won't be disappointed . . .
Saturday, 3 March 2012
Words are his power . . .
World book day has come and gone, and the passion for reading goes on unabated. I for one will always cherish the written word. Because I do write. It was the reading of Stephen King's 'Salem's Lot' for the first time, many years ago, showed me just how cinematic reading a book could be. That guy seriously has the raw power to take you right into a situation using only words, without taking you out of the story by intruding there himself.
Believe me, that's no easy task.
Mr King makes it look easy. He has a skill many writers would give their right arm for (to coin a cliche). And it seems Joe Hill, one of King's three children, has inherited his father's prowess for crafting prose. Again, Joe writes much in the horror genre, and I am privileged to call personal friend the man who moved the wheels for Joe's first collection to be published. However, I rather think this particular discovery was an inevitability rather than a happy accident. Joe Hill would have been successful regardless, because he writes great stuff. '20th Century Ghosts' is an absolute master class in the art of short story writing - and his follwing novels display similar glister.
Let's not get 'sniffy' about horror, please. There is much to be gained by the would be author within the horror genre, and just as much skill involved in the construction of the horror tale as other genres. If you are wont to put words on paper you're already in the battle, wrestling with the clunk and grind of sentence construction, syntax, and all the stuff that places one in the category marked 'writer'. And it is a battle sometimes; one which can often feel like trawling through cloying mud. A scene plays out in real time in the story or novel and we enjoy it as a cinematic experience. Constructing that scene can be like building the Eiffel Tower out of matches . . . a slow process in which the author carefully plays out the situation over and again, ensuring the prose he/she uses conveys exactly what was intended, without stalling.
The interpretation of the scene after is now down to the reader. This is no single point of view laid onto film or digital video. The written word requires the participation of the reader to give it life. Here is another creative force in play, allowing the story to run out in vivid experience. It's only a shame we live in an existence that seemingly moves at an ever increasing speed. The day holds twenty four hours, the same as it always did, as far as I can tell (give or take a few milliseconds). Time is not the issue; it's the amount of 'stuff' we fill those hours with keeps some of us from habitual reading. For me as a writer the study of the written word is an essential, and yet I struggle with this same problem. But is it really that much of a problem? Reading is supposed to be a pleasure. Far too often the 'pull' of the TV easily drags me away to watch something that is ultimately less rewarding and demands no participation from me whatsoever.
There's the rub. Reading demands, whereas most other armchair pastimes ask little more than parking your rump in a comfy chair and watching the pixels shimmer. Those pixels form all kinds of dazzling images, cool, titillating and often horrific, but somehow never match the written experience, once you get past the initial 'effort' it might take to open the darn book (or e-reader).
So my call here folks is, keep on reading. Those of us staring at our laptops for hour upon hour need your support - and there are millions of books out there just waiting for you to dive in and be amazed, delighted and dare I say, horrified . . .
Believe me, that's no easy task.
Mr King makes it look easy. He has a skill many writers would give their right arm for (to coin a cliche). And it seems Joe Hill, one of King's three children, has inherited his father's prowess for crafting prose. Again, Joe writes much in the horror genre, and I am privileged to call personal friend the man who moved the wheels for Joe's first collection to be published. However, I rather think this particular discovery was an inevitability rather than a happy accident. Joe Hill would have been successful regardless, because he writes great stuff. '20th Century Ghosts' is an absolute master class in the art of short story writing - and his follwing novels display similar glister.
Let's not get 'sniffy' about horror, please. There is much to be gained by the would be author within the horror genre, and just as much skill involved in the construction of the horror tale as other genres. If you are wont to put words on paper you're already in the battle, wrestling with the clunk and grind of sentence construction, syntax, and all the stuff that places one in the category marked 'writer'. And it is a battle sometimes; one which can often feel like trawling through cloying mud. A scene plays out in real time in the story or novel and we enjoy it as a cinematic experience. Constructing that scene can be like building the Eiffel Tower out of matches . . . a slow process in which the author carefully plays out the situation over and again, ensuring the prose he/she uses conveys exactly what was intended, without stalling.
The interpretation of the scene after is now down to the reader. This is no single point of view laid onto film or digital video. The written word requires the participation of the reader to give it life. Here is another creative force in play, allowing the story to run out in vivid experience. It's only a shame we live in an existence that seemingly moves at an ever increasing speed. The day holds twenty four hours, the same as it always did, as far as I can tell (give or take a few milliseconds). Time is not the issue; it's the amount of 'stuff' we fill those hours with keeps some of us from habitual reading. For me as a writer the study of the written word is an essential, and yet I struggle with this same problem. But is it really that much of a problem? Reading is supposed to be a pleasure. Far too often the 'pull' of the TV easily drags me away to watch something that is ultimately less rewarding and demands no participation from me whatsoever.
There's the rub. Reading demands, whereas most other armchair pastimes ask little more than parking your rump in a comfy chair and watching the pixels shimmer. Those pixels form all kinds of dazzling images, cool, titillating and often horrific, but somehow never match the written experience, once you get past the initial 'effort' it might take to open the darn book (or e-reader).
So my call here folks is, keep on reading. Those of us staring at our laptops for hour upon hour need your support - and there are millions of books out there just waiting for you to dive in and be amazed, delighted and dare I say, horrified . . .
Thursday, 1 March 2012
Nibiru . . .
Talking of doomsday, isn't this supposed to be the year of the Apocalypse? If YouTube and the conspiracy theorists are to be believed, we're all toast just before Christmas this year; 21st December, to be exact. Don't suppose most people will pay much attention though, unless this huge heavenly body that is reckoned to be hurtling through space is tapping us on the shoulder by then. We'll be pre-occupied with shopping 'til we drop, and the TV will be full of snow peppered festive ads for M&S, Asda, Tesco, Wal-Mart . . .
Maybe that's good diversion therapy. I don't suppose we'd get to know much about it anyway. Seems logical that such a devastating event would be kept from the masses to prevent panic, or maybe I've watched 'Deep Impact' too many times (twice). But maybe not. Even something we might class as a 'minor' crisis, like snow bound roads during a hard winter, preventing supplies getting through to the shops on a specific day, or the current financial turmoil we face, is enough sometimes to almost have us running for the hills. Or stripping supermarket shelves. Charity and 'goodwill to all men' goes right out of the window. It's dog eat dog now, translated as 'crazed shopper punches neighbour for a carton of milk'.
I found it hard to believe during the recent January sales, watching news reports that told of people becoming violent in their desire to get the early bargain. Is a dress with 90% off really worth caving someone's head in for? Surely not? I suppose it really depends on how much you measure the desire for goods against the consequences of the physical violence required to obtain. Isn't this just plain avarice in the end? Of course. But that's the way we are, isn't it? We're survivors and scavengers. Some would say, and have said, this all stems from the time we hung around in caves, as if a '50% off' sale is enough to regress us into hairy hunters again. It's our primitive nature coming out in the most distasteful way.
The Bible talks a lot about human nature - and it has little to do with us being ape men or hairy hunters. I'm not here to throw Bible quotes all over the place, or preach, it's just a point of reference, and most interesting. The battle, according to scribes, is Cosmic, and nothing to do with the savagery of our ancestry. It's to do with a high ranking angel who decided he could get one over on God by a little temptation in a garden called Eden. Now whether you believe that or not, it is a most fascinating premise. Just a story? Well, there's a lot of fuss going on about the Mayan calendar right now. To me it's not scientific; it's some other capacity for imagination we have inside us to give credence to the fantastical and prophetic. It's that thing that insists we're more than just flesh and bones. We have History, but we also have Myth, and sometimes the Myth is what we choose to embrace as reality.
Take Harold Camping for instance, the veteran American preacher who predicted the Biblical 'gathering' of the believers followed by the end of the world on May 21 2011, and then when that didn't happen revised it to October 21. That didn't happen either - or not so you'd notice. However, it made news and gave the guy notoriety - and took the credibility of the charismatic church movement to a lower rung. In all this there were many Camping followers expecting the event to happen, no question. They gave up their jobs, their earthly lives, convinced themselves they were about to be 'raptured'. To blazes with the physics involved to translate flesh into spirit. That didn't matter, because the believing mind was running in a Cosmic gear where facts are just as elastic as Myth, where both can intertwine to become pseudo reality, where the seemingly ludicrous is not only possible, but expected.
It does serve to illustrate how our marvellous imagination can be used for ill as well as good. Those speculative writers of the fantastic create worlds and situations in which we can escape and find value, and long may they continue to do so. To go along with this, however, is that strong ability to embody Myth with real flesh, where the lines between fantasy and reality merge. This facility, even now, is causing many questions to be raised about the validity of Scripture. We are obsessed by science and science/myth mash ups.
This to me, is why we fear the coming of Nibiru, shape-shifting reptiles, the illuminati, aliens . . .
All these things could be, and maybe should be, regarded as ridiculous to any rational person. Then the mash up mind kicks in.
And you start to wonder again . . .
What if all this is true?
Maybe that's good diversion therapy. I don't suppose we'd get to know much about it anyway. Seems logical that such a devastating event would be kept from the masses to prevent panic, or maybe I've watched 'Deep Impact' too many times (twice). But maybe not. Even something we might class as a 'minor' crisis, like snow bound roads during a hard winter, preventing supplies getting through to the shops on a specific day, or the current financial turmoil we face, is enough sometimes to almost have us running for the hills. Or stripping supermarket shelves. Charity and 'goodwill to all men' goes right out of the window. It's dog eat dog now, translated as 'crazed shopper punches neighbour for a carton of milk'.
 |
| Nibiru? Sorry folks, it's just the sun again. |
The Bible talks a lot about human nature - and it has little to do with us being ape men or hairy hunters. I'm not here to throw Bible quotes all over the place, or preach, it's just a point of reference, and most interesting. The battle, according to scribes, is Cosmic, and nothing to do with the savagery of our ancestry. It's to do with a high ranking angel who decided he could get one over on God by a little temptation in a garden called Eden. Now whether you believe that or not, it is a most fascinating premise. Just a story? Well, there's a lot of fuss going on about the Mayan calendar right now. To me it's not scientific; it's some other capacity for imagination we have inside us to give credence to the fantastical and prophetic. It's that thing that insists we're more than just flesh and bones. We have History, but we also have Myth, and sometimes the Myth is what we choose to embrace as reality.
Take Harold Camping for instance, the veteran American preacher who predicted the Biblical 'gathering' of the believers followed by the end of the world on May 21 2011, and then when that didn't happen revised it to October 21. That didn't happen either - or not so you'd notice. However, it made news and gave the guy notoriety - and took the credibility of the charismatic church movement to a lower rung. In all this there were many Camping followers expecting the event to happen, no question. They gave up their jobs, their earthly lives, convinced themselves they were about to be 'raptured'. To blazes with the physics involved to translate flesh into spirit. That didn't matter, because the believing mind was running in a Cosmic gear where facts are just as elastic as Myth, where both can intertwine to become pseudo reality, where the seemingly ludicrous is not only possible, but expected.
It does serve to illustrate how our marvellous imagination can be used for ill as well as good. Those speculative writers of the fantastic create worlds and situations in which we can escape and find value, and long may they continue to do so. To go along with this, however, is that strong ability to embody Myth with real flesh, where the lines between fantasy and reality merge. This facility, even now, is causing many questions to be raised about the validity of Scripture. We are obsessed by science and science/myth mash ups.
This to me, is why we fear the coming of Nibiru, shape-shifting reptiles, the illuminati, aliens . . .
All these things could be, and maybe should be, regarded as ridiculous to any rational person. Then the mash up mind kicks in.
And you start to wonder again . . .
What if all this is true?
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