The lottery of negativity . . .

I don't care much for flying.  I don't mind telling you.  Is there really any wonder, when we see what happens when things go bad?  Really bad.  I won't even try to relate a view of what I think the families of the victims of Germanwings flight 4U9525 might be going through.  I just think back to the first time I stepped onto a plane.  It looked rather small, sitting there, waiting for us to board.  It became a lot bigger as I walked toward it - and I remember wondering how such a thing could even get off the tarmac.  In all this I was, I believe, trying to convince myself that my fear was irrational. while trying to be reminded of the many 'fear of flying' tips I had watched on YouTube.

Statistically speaking, flying is the 'safest way to travel'.  And that's a well quoted cliche for sure.  We all know it. By studying the occurrence of any incident over a period of time, it is thought we can assess to some degree how safe (or unsafe) a future situation might be, calculate the chances of it going wrong. Well, that's all good if the space time continuum actually runs in line with human assessment. Who's to say it does? We get statements along the lines of: 'You've got more chance of being murdered than going down in a plane.'  This is rounded off with a guess at the odds, which are so many million to one in our favour.  I think it's that statistical factor that often provides enough courage to actually trust ourselves to that long tube of fuel filled metal with wings attached.

Those comforting odds don't mean a jot to those bereaved families today.

What killed all those men. women and children, was not a coin toss in a cosmic lottery, or an act of a capricious god.  It was a man.  A man whose mind was running along a path most of us will never be able to comprehend.  A man who, for whatever reason, had decided it was his day to die, and to do it in a way that would mark him in infamy.  The detachment you might feel watching a horror movie, populated with the strange and deranged, can never apply here.  This was another real life horror, stranger than fiction, where the tragic destiny of one individual dragged 150 innocent lives into the abyss with him.  His choice.  Not God's, or unexplained threads of serendipity.  It was he who decided fate that day.

That's the power and responsibility we all have.  We are fallible.  Now that tragedy has been fully played out, dead co-pilot Andreas Lubitz's life is becoming an open book.  The flaws in the aircraft's cockpit procedure are being brought to light.  Yes, we're very good at being wise after the event.  Still, I'll bet most people boarding that doomed flight didn't sweat it the way I would have done, looking to see if the pilot appeared to be in good health, checking to see if the plane was much better than an old bucket, trying to build up my trust in the event about to unfold.

Maybe I'm one of the irrational.  But that's what fear does for you.  Events like this do little to boost my trust in impressive statistics. The plane was mechanically sound that day, which will be reassuring for Germanwings and the millions who fly regularly.  There is however, no comfort for the families of those slain, who are left bereft, wondering how this disturbed man managed to gain control of an aeroplane.  Lubitz clearly covered his aberrant mental state well enough to be able to avoid serious scrutiny - and yet, one wonders how long he'd lived alone in his own spiralling universe.  It was enough time to finally run his sanity over the edge, to throw a metaphorical spanner into the long shot statistics we tend to put so much blind faith in.

You see. when we sit and think about randomness, there's really no way to rationalise it.  Such long odds on our side almost suggest we've next to no chance of being involved in such a tragic event.  That may turn out to be arrogant assumption on our part - but we do have to have some hope.  Aviation research and development has swung the confidence balance so far in our favour that it's like having a pile of bricks on one side of the scale, compared to a feather on the other. Isn't it reassuring?  Should be.  However, there's always that nagging voice, reminding me at least, of an unknown factor; on this occasion the free will of a person who is planning some terrible act.

Time and destiny is a far more complex matter than we might think.  The fact remains, most busy people don't waste time considering the fragility of their own existence.  It's obvious we have to take reasonable risks if we want to live any quality of life at all.  People expect to get off a plane at the other end of the journey - and nearly always do.  In this case, a man living in extreme mental torment had remained locked in his own world, while life carried on its merry way.  Lubitz's failing mind formulated a dark intention, which nobody detected until it was too late.

The possible phobics who fly can often be seen as irrational.  Take Richard Matheson's famous story, 'Nightmare at 20,000 feet'.  It is a real study of flying phobia and a man who looks to be on the edge of insanity, yet in truth is the only one aware of the real danger threatening the aircraft in which he travels.  It is his 'irrational' awareness of his surroundings makes him more likely to see the problems - and amplify them to panic levels. That's not to say we should actually seek to feel nervous about getting on a plane.  If you are that way inclined, it's going to be a constant battle to quell such fear anyway.  Stories like the Germanwings tragedy do little to assuage any feelings of trepidation.  Maybe it's useful to remember just how many aircraft are in the air at any given time; compare this with the number of major incidents, to give extra credence to those long shot chance values.

It's ironic that a safeguard to prevent a terrorist getting into the aircraft cockpit, prevented the captain getting back in after Lubitz had locked him out.  It is difficult to imagine the terror inside that cabin as passengers desperately watched the man try to break the door down so he could regain control.  It is, unfortunately, another episode of real life horror we dare not think about.  Yet, we must, for this terrible darkness, be it right or wrong, is part of the mechanics of the world.  Call it an act of evil, a cruel injustice, anything that will give even a suggestion of purpose.  There is no glib answer or clever reasoning to answer this one.  Some lessons will be learned from this tragedy for sure.  The world will carry on.  And we will all take life's acceptable risks, because to have any quality living at all, that's what we have to do.

The grand master of horror . . .

Who was it said horror writers are a strange bunch? Maybe even warped?  I'd be surprised if there hasn't been more than a few comments running along such lines.

However, I think it's safe to assume horror writers spend a lot of time thinking about things; pondering the world and its ever present ills.  That's where I have found reading about H. P. Lovecraft's life enlightening. Without delving into finer detail (which anyone can do quite easily), it has occurred to me that H. P. found the main thrust of his genius as a result of his discomfort with the world.  He was a misfit, a trait largely fuelled by his difficult family life. He was uncomfortable with people, contemptuous of other races; only finding any real contentment for minor periods of his all too short life.

He died young by today's standards, unrecognised, and almost penniless.  Ironically, he would probably have been a genre megastar today, high on the rich list, regularly mobbed by the countless fans who have come to appreciate his work as a horror fiction pioneer.  The worlds he has created are on a scale opposite to those laid out in any book of scripture or scientific manual.  His vision is rather the stuff of nightmares, of monsters so huge and hideous to behold, they would send an enquiring mind into incredulous insanity.  Lovecraft's world is one of paranoia, of no inner peace, of existing with the perpetual Damoclean sword of impending destruction. Sounds kind of familiar doesn't it?  Personally I have only yet dabbled in Lovecraft's work, but I intend to go deeper, and herein to record my excursions into the New England madness he describes so eloquently.

I suspect some would have found the man quite distasteful.  Paranoia and racism play big parts in his work, often in the guise of the monsters he has created.  Lovecraft describes himself as an outsider - also an atheist, which is quite interesting considering the thread of many of his written horrors lead toward encounters with god like creatures, far removed from any benevolent relationship with mankind. These are the 'old ones' - hideous and huge tentacled beings languishing just outside of our own reality. They are waiting for opportunity to punch through and destroy the insignificant species called mankind. These deities have their own followers of course; misguided, insane, ritualistic worshippers who seek to invite them back to reclaim control.  It seems there is little room for non believers in Lovecraft's world.

In all this, I admit I am very much a Lovecraft amateur. I started my excursion into horror reading with more contemporary fare, like Stephen King, James Herbert etc, so I am going to have to adjust the literary palette somewhat for this work.  Whereas Mr. King has used character and dialogue to create a realistic vista, H.P. relies on reams of dense description for effect, with hardly any dramatic speech employed at all. Pick up a Lovecraft story collection and skim through it to see what I mean.  You are tempted to groan if you're not used to such rich prose; pages and pages of unbroken text lay before you.  In this world of fast food, multiple distraction and quick fixes, it could seem like a daunting challenge.

Well, we are going to start with 'The Dunwich Horror'.  I've no special reason for this choice, but I'm sure it will be a favourable one.  This tale was written in 1928 and first published in the April 1929 edition of 'Weird Tales'.  I am giving out the  no synopsis here.  I will reserve any comment until I have visited the terror of Dunwich for myself. Feel free to join along, if you've a mind.  However, if you're of rather more cynical mind, maybe sampling a little Lovecraft might increase your creeping darkness . . .

next - 'The Dunwich Horror' review.

The Integrity of Monsters . . .

Are you a glass half empty, or half full type of person?  I suppose that could really depend on how long you've been around the place, and how long you've had to observe life and form an opinion.  And maybe that opinion has often been coloured by the time of year, whether you've eaten that day, or a simple mood swing.

There's a lot of good in the world (so people tell me), but there's also plenty of the other stuff.  Try watching the first five minutes of a news bulletin and you'll see.  The news is obviously prioritised from the worst atrocity to the least, gradually moving down the scale to a possible thirty seconds of fluffiness at the end of the show.  You know the thing:  a dog that collapses in ecstasy after seeing its master again for the first time in months.

Man creates.  And then there's a planet we call home that always seems to be fighting against us.  It's covered mostly in water; an environment totally hostile to humans (without the use of special equipment). Parts of the earth rumble in anger, collapse, erupt, get blown to hell.  And all the while, many people choose a path that will either end in the grisly destruction of another person, or themselves, as well as the other person.  I'm no psychologist, but these experts must surely ponder this mystery.  Just what is it drives us to destruction?  There are more subtle killing methods too . . .

It doesn't take a super intelligent being to work out that we often forge our own pathway to oblivion.  Obesity, cancer, heart disease, and the rest are at epidemic levels if you take the statistics head on.  Yet, the shelves are constantly restocked with the chemically infused, processed crap that will help to accelerate our demise. Paste an attractive photo on the package and we'll take it - or just a plain box if the price is right.  I don't think an alien would see our predicament as a beautiful sight.  The world may look exquisite from space, quiet and peaceful.  But that view serves as a very effective mask.

And therefore I say, a hearty hurrah for the monsters.  Yes, we have created them.  But there has to be an argument for their pure integrity.  What was it space freighter 'Nostromo' science officer Ash said about the deadly Alien roaming loose around the ship?  'I admire it's purity'.  True enough, for the creature clearly had no moral compass to consider.  Not in the way we might understand it.  You wonder of it's motive within the violence - and then discover the effort is simply to expand the species - and eradicate potential aggressors. Basically, it's motive is to survive.

We can only boast such drive at various points in our own history.  All too often the reason for our violence is darker, more self gratifying, and certainly less noble.  We have a claim to some land, and so fight for it.  A skewed religious view becomes a reason for genocide.  Dependence upon an injected stimulus leads to another soul fighting for their life after being mercilessly robbed to provide the finance for a fix.  Look deeper, and you see the truly monstrous is inside us. Those who create fantastic fictions, who populate their worlds with the hideous and otherworldly, may know just a little more about what force drives the entity we call 'Monster'.  Definitions are varied, but in essence the description of fictional monster is 'a mythical beast' or something that may have human characteristics but is clearly not human in appearance or general behaviour.

The list of our likely 'heroes' is endless:  Wolfman, Frankenstein, Alien . . .

There are many monsters - formed to entertain us, to disturb, to educate.  Educate?  Why not.  The behavioural traits of the movie monster are often more noble than those of the human beings trapped inside the story with him.  Seldom will a monster covet the riches that might motivate a man to darker deeds.  It will kill of course, without mercy or compassion, but I can't help thinking its motive is always primarily one of self preservation.

Don't berate those of us who boast a 'friendship' with the macabre, or prefer to dwell in the fictional lands of the strange.  Real life 'monsters' are with us in abundance, stripped of the behavioural compass they might have possessed on the printed page.  They have no scales, or hairy hide; their motives are completely powered by self gratification and self promotion. They kill without reason, steal and maim, satisfy their sexual lust on the young and helpless, whilst carrying an illusion of respectability  Oh yes, make no mistake, we certainly dwell in a land of real evil, with real 'human' monsters.  And so, let's look a little deeper on those misunderstood creatures of horror fiction; learn from them.  They seek neither our sympathy or understanding.  They stand ever nobly upon page and screen.  They are who they are.

And maybe sadly, so are we.

Paranoid about Paranoia?

Are you scared a lot - or just plain angry?  Maybe I'm just getting old . . . well, if truth be known there's no maybe about it.  We all are - and as we do, the word 'nostalgia' begins to take on more flavour for some.  'Things were so much better in MY day.'  How often have you heard that chestnut?  What the hell is MY day anyway?  Probably some nebulous fantasy land where good thoughts always prevail, just in time for the final curtain - and after all, it is the age old standard for good to emerge victorious over evil, eventually.

Sounds good.  But it's not the experience of most.  We constantly battle with the frailties of our being, and with the world itself.  On the face of it, it appears the whole Universe is out to kill us.  Mentally and spiritually to begin with - and then good old mother nature delivers the final coup de grace.

Meanwhile, we are encouraged from the corners of light to be happy in our journey down the river Styx, to battle against the force that the world in general throws in our faces on a minute by minute basis.  Yet, I only have to view a television set for an hour, or look at a daily newspaper for a short time, before my spirits are being dampened by abject misery.

The conspiracy buffs argue it's orchestrated fear, the religious fundamentalists say it's 'The Last Days'.  The atheists say it's random, or science, or whatever.  The rest of us maybe try to ignore it.  I was there on December 31st to sing 'Auld Lang Syne' with the best of them.  I was perpetrator.  I'm guilty, your honour.  It was expected of me as a DJ to deliver on that Groundhog Day tradition.  But somewhere in the dark cave of my conciousness I knew we'd all jump back on the treadmill soon enough; there would be crushing news to hear sooner or later.  It was sooner.  The terrible events in France over recent weeks have hit us all, reminding us all of the turbulent cauldron we live in.  And it's only January.

And yet, there are plenty of good people around us.  There are those who want to enhance other lives rather than destroy them.  The sad thing is, we nourish the need to report the bad.  'It's important information,'  we say.  'Everybody needs to keep informed'.  I can agree with that - to an extent, and I do realise we have a choice whether to expose ourselves to negative media coverage or not.  I know people who have chosen not to - and are much happier for it.  Is it a case of plonking your head firmly in the sand - or choosing a different way?  I for one couldn't watch a 24 hour news channel for more than half an hour without feeling myself sliding into depression - no, worse, despair.

Whether we are being manipulated into fear by a secret society or the illuminati is a question to be answered by those who are better informed.  All I know is, too much bad news makes Jack more than dull.  It makes him feel the need to see a shrink at his earliest convenience.  My call is to try mostly to see the good in the world; not in some naive Pollyanna way, but in a controlled way that remains very aware of the troubles that challenge, but is not overwhelmed by them.

Sorry, have to go now.  The TV news programme is about to start . . .

We need another Star Wars?

I love the movies.  A simple statement to make, but very true - for me.  It has been very disheartening to find out that, in the UK at least, Cinema attendance has fallen into decline, much as in the 1970's.  That was until Spielberg and Lucas came along with Jaws in 1976, followed by Lucasfilm's Star Wars in 1977.  At the risk of getting boring, (because I've mentioned this before) I like most people, was indifferent to cinema up until the point Star Wars came along.  Everything about that movie blew me away.  It just seemed so real - compared to what had gone before.  Say what you like about George Lucas's directing chops; for me he got this one dead right.  It really looked as if this created universe had been around for ever - and we as the audience were just being granted a peek into an already well established world.

It's only now that I maybe notice the hokey script, the bad science (if any at all).  Oh yes, there was plenty of noise about Han Solo's bragging of the 'kessel run'. Remember?  Han says he did it in less than 12 parsecs.  But anybody knows a parsec is a measurement of distance and not time.  Duh?  Who cares?  I didn't give a monkeys when it was brought up.  Talk about splitting hairs.

The sad thing is, when I re-watch Star Wars now, I am reminded of the accepting nature of a youthful mind, and a soul yet unjaded by a constant barrage of the world's terrible troubles.  I am reminded of a sequel too many, of shameless cash ins, of enough spin offs to make a man dizzy for a month.

Where's the magic?  Have I become too old and too farty to appreciate cinema anymore, or has everybody just gotten too damn greedy?  Well, no one will convince me the latter is not true - if some of the dross we see at the cinema these days is anything to go by.  It seems to me it's television pushing the boundaries now and not film.  No wonder there is a growing interest in TV production, whilst cinema box office begins to dip. 

Give a medal to that aged committee who decided to make every cinema a multiplex.  It all started back in the day of course, when most grandiose single screen theatres were converted into 5 screen flea pits.  One minute you were watching 'A New Hope' in 70mm with surround sound, the next you were upstairs in what was once the 'Circle'.  Except it wasn't the circle any longer.  It was half of it, walled off, with another three screens under your feet.  These walls were often so inadequate you could hear the dialogue from the theatre next door . . . and the ones below.

Oh yes, we appreciate film alright.

Now, I do appreciate the movie business is just that - a business, but I fear the industry is being controlled too much by money spinners, and not people who want to create.  It's more than a fear.  It's a fact.  There's no way big Hollywood backing would have allowed Frank Darabont to end his horror classic 'The Mist' in the shocking and downbeat way it did.  I read somewhere he actually had bigger bucks available to make the CGI effects that bit better, to elevate his movie from, let's face it, B movie status to horror blockbuster.  He would of course, have to do it their way if he wanted the funding.  Well, it seems Frank gave them a big thumbs down - and made his own movie.  I reckon that's why the film came and went with barely a whimper, maybe missed by those who would appreciate its Lovecraftian flavour, and its faithfulness to the Stephen King source material.  We're talking Frank Darabont here, the guy who directed 'The Shawshank Redemption' - as well as championing 'The Walking Dead' TV series. 

'Money talks - but it can't sing and dance and it don't walk'.  Only part true, Mr Diamond, because it appears it can get people to sing and dance, even if it can't manage the feat itself.

Cash flows here, there and everywhere.  Movies, good and terrible are churned out, with budgets that would make me rich beyond the dreams of avarice.  Meanwhile, on the front line, where people are, multiplex cinemas are trying all ends up to get bums on seats.  I find it quite distasteful that most of the time at my own local cinema, the dedicated box office is closed.  You have to get your ticket from the food bar; usually having to queue behind someone who has clearly skipped dinner and is putting in a half hour shipping order - filling up on popcorn, nachos, coke - to the point in which they need to take their feast into the auditorium on a tray!

The cinemas are not making enough on box office alone, it seems.  Now they have to double as part time restaurants - and it looks like things are only going to get worse financially.  I can remember heartily declaring I that would never stoop to watching movies on a hand held device as an alternative to the big screen.  Frankly, I have been persuaded to go back on that deal.  Don't misunderstand, I still go and see many movies at my local multiplex, but it's too easy now to climb into a warm bed, turn the lights low, don a pair of high quality headphones, and watch streamed movies in HD on an 8 inch screen.

i will, of course, continue to support my local cinema, but I hope they don't sell out completely, becoming more food bar than a theatre for film.

 If they do, I for one will be getting back into bed.