A Digression, Kids, THING

Tough Beans

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It’s never the big things that get to us. Well, maybe it is, but the small things can be just as upsetting…

I bought two beanbags a couple of months ago. The first time “the cousins” called round, a week or two later, all the kids had a diving match on them. As a result both bags were somewhat deflated and virtually unusable. I/ we had sore backs and sore arses from sitting on them/ on the floor thereafter. So I filled one with the other and resolved to buy some more ‘beans’ soon. Today, over a month later, I went and bought those beans. It didn’t have to be today, but well, if not today then when?

They came in a clear-plastic bag around 5ft tall/ 2ft wide.
25euros -sheesh! But that’s not the worst of it. I haven’t even begun -patience!

I brought the bag home and set it against the wall in the room nearest the front door. As one does.

I didn’t have much time before I had to collect my son from school, so I forgot about the bag o’beans. As one does.

Went and picked him up, then returned home. I had also forgotten his friend was coming with us today. No problem there.

So we get in the door, put down the bags, etc. and within 2 minutes there was a call for me to come quickly… You no doubt guessed it… the bag o’beans had sprung not one but two holes -one in the middle, the other near the bottom. Clearly my son had taken it upon himself to play punch bags (as his friend intimated, but I didn’t want to hear any more at that time).

I tried resting it in a position where the beans stopped pouring out, but though I was successful eventually, my actions increased the flow in the short-term. I wanted to cry. I kind of surprised myself at how upset I was. Yes it was distressing, but ultimately it’s a small problem I know.

Still I was very near real tears and feelings of total inadequacy. I scolded the boy of course -somewhat vociferously as you can imagine. He was cowed by this, but it must be said he wasn’t too bothered. His friend however looked like he wanted to go home, so I closed the door to that room and told them not to go in there for the rest of the day.

A half hour later or so (after I calmed down) I thought I’d take another look. “Sure how bad could it be?” …As soon as I opened the door again, I again felt depressingly helpless. It’s not that the whole bag had emptied across the floor, but it was clear anything I might do to clear it was going to result in more spillage. I got an extra-large black plastic bag from another room and lifted the bag o’beans into it, which of course saw more spurts of tiny aero-beans everywhere.

I could now hear it pouring into the black bag at an alarming rate, but at least it was into the bag now and not on the floor. “How did you manage to make those holes?” I demanded to know, at last feeling like I might be able to handle the answer. “He dived onto it!” his friend pronounced (with serious and weighty glee).

This set me off again, pleading with the 4 year old (5 in a couple of months) to have mercy on his poor father, threatening him with consequences should he not mend his ways, yelping at his lack of undivided concern at the melting of the universe his actions had set into motion.

Just then I thought of something… I was supposed to pick up my daughter at 3PM! I rushed to the kitchen and you can imagine my sheer and utter panic as I saw the time… 3:22!

AAAARRRRRRHHHHHHHHHHHEEEEEEIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!

To put it mildly, the boys were bundled into the car and a new trail of blazing rubber was burnt through the road. It usually takes 10 minutes to get to the school. I don’t know how long it did take, but 3:22 itself was 20 minutes too late -and I wasn’t even there yet!

She was the last one left, but thankfully a mother of another child had waited with her. I couldn’t even begin to explain why I was late (although I tried -and failed). “Sure don’t worry -it happens to us all” said the mother with a cheery wave.

On the way home, my daughter began with the “where were you?s” and I just wanted to die. What made me feel even worse (like an infinite mandelbrot set, dig deeper and this thing has layers on layers that never end and each one is as stupid and pointless as the last) was that I had updated the firmware on my phone earlier that morning. Usually an alarm goes off at 2:45 to remind me to pick her up, but because of this update the alarm had been wiped.

Stoopid is as stoopid does and believe me today was me at my STOOOPID WORST. It was the perfect storm of Mischeviousness + Stoopidity + Timing + Lack of Timing + Sheer Panic +Bad Luck.

And today is only Monday.

A Digression, Books, Happiness, THING

Confessions of a Starving Author

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Writing with a view to publishing is a kind of conceit. It has to be. Who would write if not for the belief it was worth someone else’s time, effort and/or hopefully money to read it?

To slave for many months formulating a mass of words with careful precision, without prior knowledge or care of a ready and willing market is at best a form of naïve arrogance.

“Of course they will love it if I do, for I know Greatness when I see it!”

This may indeed be true, but it overlooks the fact that they need to know it’s there before they can buy it –or buy into it even.

_

“But at least publishers and agents will read it when I send it to them and will recognise its unique brilliance and a bidding war will soon ensue!”

This, as one discovers is not quite the reality of the world in which we live.

When writing to such bodies/people you need to “sell it”, providing a concise-as-possible hook for them to bite on, as well as selling yourself. It helps if you are a one-armed Polynesian lesbian dwarf with a diverse and lengthy career and experience. As every publisher/ agent knows, this is a hook in itself for reporters and media presenters to latch onto in order to ‘inspire the market’.
Very rarely is the hook about the book.

So as you gather your résumé and try to make yourself look exciting or at the very least interesting, you realise that you are not that interesting or exciting on paper (even if you are Mr. Charisma or Ms. DahlingOfAll in person).

“Who cares about me?” you yell at that subconscious niggle you are otherwise ignoring –“it’s all about the book!” The book and its clear brilliance is the only thing that matters. That’s what people will be paying for after all!

So you prepare a synopsis that describes the story, before realising this synopsis captures none of the fun or imagination or depth or soul of the work you have slaved over. It reads like directions to a toilet.

_

“But at least the synopsis gives some kind of indication of the work –and anyway, the extract will sell it in itself!”

This is where you realise your book –your sweet and gorgeous bundle of supreme joy– is not the loudest in the room. It doesn’t scream and scramble-for attention. Nor does it demand it amid the chaos. It doesn’t sing and dance like the annoying guy at a party who everyone loves until he throws up on the rug; who you find next morning in your bathroom as you throw back the shower curtain, still singing and still dancing, with the water running, wearing your wife’s underwear; who rings you at work later in the week, still singing that annoying Macarena song you were so enthralled with after fourteen tequila sunrises. Now you owe him a favour because he entertained you so much. More importantly, now you will do anything to get him to shut up and to move him on. …And was there anyone else at that party? A shy witty guy attempting a subdued and possibly meaningful banter with the mantelpiece perhaps? Nah, don’t remember him.

_

“Yeah but can you be more specific about difficulties getting to a publisher?”

So anyway, I completed my first book in 1999. It was an overwhelming experience for me. I loved it dearly (still do) and couldn’t be happier if it had been an actual flesh and blood child. It was perfect. Still is –even more so.

I had waited until then to think of sending it off. To make a long story short, I discovered what was to be done next and did so over the next two years. Two or three chapters were to be sent to an agency or publishers, along with a cover letter and personal details. Three months later, on average, a publisher would reply saying “get an agent” and an agent would reply saying “we are totally full at the moment and couldn’t take on another author under any circumstances –call back within five minutes of one of our authors dying… with a number of books in that same style.”

There were some words of encouragement here and there (which one is advised to accept at face value, since nobody in the business wants to encourage a person they feel doesn’t have at least the basic skills), but the gist of it was “thanks, but no thanks”.

Most agencies receive hundreds of submissions each week, you see. If your sample chapters don’t captivate and/or your target audience isn’t clearly defined, or if an agency doesn’t deal in this specific type of book (and doesn’t want to), or if you can’t define the specific type or age-group you are aiming at, or if you made a mess of your cover-letter, trying to be too smart or it struck a wrong chord with the wrong agent (or more likely student reader) or the submission-before your one put the reader in a bad mood, or the weather suddenly turned overcast and she/he was hoping to have a nice weekend, or… you get the idea. Your baby, your masterpiece has maybe one chance in a hundred to be given anything close to any serious consideration, depending on any number of events beyond your control –and that’s even before a person peeks in your envelope to see if your presentation captivates at that precise time. ..One in a hundred thousand of even being read I would guess.

_

What’s that you say? Your book is a masterpiece of understated subtlety?

I have news for you… it’ll die on a trolley in an over-crowded emergency room as a phalanx of ingrown toenail and tennis elbow patients scream and beg and bribe their way to the front of the queue.

I’m not saying do as they do. I’m saying unless you are already inside you don’t get inside by being the meek and unassuming nice person you are striving to be. If you’re willing to put that person aside for the sake of your “career” in writing, then start writhing on the floor and holding your breath and kicking the ground like a spoilt and/or autistic two year old pronto. That tends to get attention.

_

After two years or so of submissions I was all but spent. All the time I was editing and tweaking the text in the book and in the synopsis and the cover letter, etc..

It didn’t help that the synopsis was vague no matter how I worded it. It didn’t help that the book, essentially is about a man who does nothing. Always.

It doesn’t help that the only way to understand what the book is about is to read the goddamned book –if I could have written it as short as a synopsis the book would be that length!

_

“I’ve read and enjoyed books where nothing much (and everything) happens throughout. I know there is a market for it –but who are these people who, like me, enjoy something not easy to define? How can this market be found and tapped into?”

Damned if I know.

And to be fair, I don’t blame the publishing industry. I understand it’s hard to make a buck without a specific target in mind. This is why virtually all books (and movies and tv shows and channels and anything else now) are geared to very specific sectors.

_

So I kept tweaking the book itself. Some friends read it –and eventually some friends of friends who didn’t know me. A pattern was established: around 60% of the people who started to read it could never finish it and could never really give an answer why –“it’s not the book –the book is great… I just don’t have the time right now” was the typical feedback from this sector (believe me I went out of my way to find ‘cranky’ people who would not have a problem telling me off if they didn’t like it).

A worrying number of people simply clammed-up, ignoring any questions I posed or emails I sent on the topic.

One person absolutely hated it and refused to read further than a few chapters. I really enjoyed this reaction, although I’m pretty sure she would change her mind on it if she ever read it to the end.

Of the remaining 40% (ie. those who read it to the end), not one person was anything less than overwhelmed or excited or “in love” with the book.

Almost all men (aged 30+ ish) who read it felt it was about them –mostly the ones I never met. This was a reason to read it for some/ the main reason it was too painful to read for others.
Most people who know me who read it felt it was about me (not true! not true!!)

Most people who read it were (/are?) female. Haven’t you heard? Only females read fiction anymore. (I have my own views on why this is, but too distracting to talk about now).

Females who read it to the end seem to love it for wildly different reasons –some because it’s “a feminist book”, some because it’s a skit on the pathetic nature of men, some because it captures the infuriating strength of a man within a relationship –even if he is ‘useless’ –and the book refuses to acknowledge the fact that the man is an idiot –indeed it goes a long way to proving the opposite. Who is right?

Such ambiguity is unseemly and never lends itself to a world where everything needs to be targeted to a particular audience. How can the book be targeted to feminists and men at the same time? The main character spouts a lot of crap –but curiously often it’s brilliant crap. Almost always it’s both crap and brilliant at the same time –even in the same sentence!

Is it meant to be taken seriously by the reader? I don’t know, but I have fun reading it. How can this book be marketed as “literature” when it is at times so devoid of literary quality and panders to the basest of thoughts and actions?

_

Anyway, you see the dilemma –the book is the best book ever written, but it’s impossible to know it without reading it. It’s called The High Kicking Kung Fu Soccer Playing Bunny Rabbit Tree and you can read it for free from HERE …but don’t go there yet -I’ll stick another link to it at the end -promise!

I hope to have it re-printed, cheaper and in different font, with different cover, etc. at some stage, but for now…

_

“Yeah yeah -get on with it -how do I get published?”

So after five long years of editing and half-dreaming of literary success, I felt I had to put this book behind me somehow. It was becoming impossible for me to move on. I had to draw a line under it. With that in mind I had it published, print-on-demand.

This doesn’t cost a whole lot –a few hundred euros. For that, almost all online bookstores worldwide will list the book and as orders are made the book is printed and shipped –ie. no stock necessary.

Even mainstream titles are often now “stocked” in this way. You might well have some on your bookshelf already.

I didn’t like doing it, but I did it for my sanity. I felt I would never write another book until I could see this one “finished”.

_

“So you learnt that lesson, eh? -Stay out of the fire if you can’t handle the kitchen!”

No sooner did I send the final pieces off to the publishers than I found myself “inspired” almost overnight to begin work on a new book. It was a miracle! –I hadn’t been able to write as much as a paragraph unrelated to The High Kicking Kung Fu Soccer Playing Bunny Rabbit Tree for nigh-on five years, now the words were pouring out of me. From first thing in the morning to last thing at night I did little else but write, write, write.

And it all felt right. I knew it was right. This was going to sell beyond a shadow of a doubt. This was an amazing story and the world would recognise it as such, so there was no need for me to go out and “push” the first book. Even though this second bore no relation to it, it would help sell the first one. I was absolutely, positively certain. How could I not be? The words were flowing from my fingertips to the keyboard quicker than I knew what they were saying, but when I read them back they made complete sense.

The broad outline of the story was in my head. The specifics of what was going to happen next was known (by me) roughly ‘two chapters ahead’. ie. As I typed the words that were being dictated to me from one part of my brain, another part was ‘seeing’ for the first time –and noting down– what was happening two chapters ahead.

Each day I was brimming with enthusiasm and a kind of giddy nervousness –what if I didn’t do it justice? What if I couldn’t make it to the end?

The one thing I had no doubt about was its mass appeal and the story’s own perfection. It wasn’t like any other book ever written and it was still al lot of fun from beginning to end, capable of being enjoyed on many levels if desired by the reader. In short: It was clearly a masterpiece!
…The doubts were only to do with my own involvement in its birth.

_

This nervous excitement and persistent disgorging of words and sentences and paragraphs and pages and chapters continued from August to April virtually non-stop.

[…There was one break for around two-weeks where I couldn’t figure out how the characters got from ‘Point P to Point R’ –ie. I didn’t know what ‘Point Q’ was, but I knew all the rest. That was quite worrying for a while.]

Finally, a few weeks before the birth of my son in 2005 the novel was finished. There was only ever one name for it: OOYAY. What else could it be called? It makes no sense to anyone who hasn’t read it, but to date everyone who I’ve heard from who have read it can’t think of a better title –or any title– to do it justice.

_

Months after the elation and relief and the sweat and the fear and anxiety of not being able to do it and the adrenalin wore off I was dumbfounded at the lack of response from the agent I had ‘chosen’. When finally a curt reply arrived I was knocked sideways. How could this be possible? The book was written by a higher authority than me –I had merely channelled the tale and set it down. But now, it was being ignored? How could that be even possible??

Once again I found myself trawling through agencies and publishers. Some gave a nod and recognised that it ‘sounds’ original, though none chose to read more than the submitted chapters. “Not for us”.

Usually I sent the submission to the main branch of an agency or publisher, but would receive a reply from the Children’s Dept.. Herein lay my old friend: Target audience.

I’ve heard everywhere that now more than ever the growing sector in the publishing world is “Kids books for Adults”, but still it didn’t seem like the publishing industry is/was geared for it.

There’s the ‘Under 9 year old’ section.
There’s Teenage/ Young Adult section.
There’s Adult, which is has its own sub-divisions.

Which one is Ooyay? None… All.

Is it “Fantasy”?  Yes –NO! Not really. No.

OK, Ooyay is a small blue dog. And he kind of… talks. BUT the book isn’t about Ooyay himself, I hasten to add. Ooyay is not the main character!
…What else would a serious, over-worked and thoughtful agent do but immediately pass such a submission onto the Children’s Department?
Obviously, the children’s department notes that it doesn’t feature blood & guts so it’s not for boys. It doesn’t feature love-interest dashing boys, so it’s not for girls. NEXT!

_

Truth is, for me, Ooyay is about growing up and experiencing life in all its thrilling unpredictability, and putting aside childish things, and learning to cope and surf through the unpredictable nature of everything –and coming to a kind of peace within oneself, which is both familiar from childhood itself and alien to everything you’ve ever been taught. There is a kind of contradictory bargain to be struck between the child and the adult within us all–

“I won’t pester you and prod at the inside of your eyeball and nag you with childish thoughts and perhaps painful memories all of your life, if you only play with me once in a while,” cries the child.

Ignore this voice at your peril.

So, this is a fun book for youngsters, but it’s a fun and more deeply emotional ride for adults. It sticks with the reader long after the last page has been turned –something I struggle to find in most works of published fiction these days.

_

Again, nobody has read it to the end without coming forward with anything less than ‘top marks’ –friends and strangers alike. It has garnered 5 star reviews from each online book-review site that agreed to review it (check amazon.com and amazon.co.uk). Everyone loves it!

How then do I reach a fraction of its potential audience?

I’m not a salesman or businessman or analyst. How the hell would I know?

_

So people who’ve read either (or both) ask me how the next one is coming along. Worse, people who’ve never read either ask me when the next one is coming…

It’s coming. Slowly. In truth I’ve started and re-started a few different ones. There is one in particular I think would/will be amazing –if I can do it justice. But it’s a lot of pain and heartache to rush off down the path of writing (at least when you’re determined to write things that have never been written before). It’s a path I’m not eager to traverse yet again at such a breakneck speed –but traverse it I definitely will. I just need to recover some part of that naïve arrogance I had ten years ago when I wrote the first one, if I’m ever to do so quickly.

If that never happens I’m happy to plod along at the slow pace, building the work brick by brick. Eventually it will be a sight to behold, I have no doubt.

Until then, it gives me untold joy when I hear any reaction to either of my books.

_

The High Kicking Kung Fu Soccer Playing Bunny Rabbit Tree by K. Michael Forde is available as a free download here. Or from almost any online book retailer (that price is too expensive I know -I hope to be able to make it cheaper sometime in the future, in the meantime this edition will be a collector’s item one day believe me)

Ooyay by Stanley Rumm can be downloaded free here until 31st of December 2009. The official Ooyay website is here.

A Digression, THING

A Christmas Message

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All day I’ve been afflicted with tummy knots, cramps and the most infuriating bubbling, raspberry outbreak of semi-fluid wind this side of the North Atlantic. It’s the kind of ailment that usually lands in the week between Christmas and New Year when you discover (as if for the first time each year) that rum chocolate balls, turkey, beer, wine, biscuits, cake, fresh brussels sprouts and stir-fried leftovers are possibly not the best thing for the gullet. In one sitting at least.

It’s hard to trust. So far today I’ve had several false alarms on the bathroom-fire-drill front, but better safe than sorry in this matter I find.

Now I’m off to cut my fingernails, scrub my hands and make mincemeat hamburgers for all the family, which could possibly send the lot of us over the edge, but being the positive type of guy I am I’ll risk it.

If I don’t post again in the next week send flowers.

And Merry Christmas!

Film

Underrated Movies (part 4)

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This series of (some of) my favourite under-valued movies begins here.

 

A Very Long Engagement

averylongI’ll let you in on a secret: I wasn’t crazy about that darling movie Amelie. In fact I didn’t like it. If Amelie herself had been played by an ugly 50-something everyone would call her a nosey busy-body. The fact she’s a beautiful young Audrey Tatou means she is impossible to disagree with. I find that disagreeable -whether I disagree with her or not.

And another thing, my favourite Jean-Pierre Jeunet movies to date are the ones he made with Marc Caro (Delicatessen and my real favourite City of Lost Children), but those gems are at least much praised by anyone who mentions them. A Very Long Engagement though, was all but forgotten soon after its release. At least I don’t notice any fuss over it. Outside of France, bien sur. This is a shame because it rivals the best of them.

Again Audrey Tatou blesses the screen with her natural charms and screen presence, but this one is much more of an ensemble piece with a cast of (it seems) hundreds. This can make it confusing at times to remember who’s who and what’s going on, but nonetheless it only makes you want to see it all over again from the start right after watching. We’ve all seen films about soldiers living with the affects of war, but this is more about the people who stayed at home and how they manage to recover (or not). It’s never depressing or overly sentimental -at least not in a bad way. Beautifully shot, perfectly played by all the cast. Lovely story -the type that seldom escapes the Film Formula Factory these days. Watch it in wonder and awe. …And it’s unfair of me to say I prefer those earlier films since they are nothing whatsoever like this one so any comparison is moot. It would be like me saying I prefer paper over soap. I have no idea what that means either, but watch A Very Long Engagement. You won’t regret it.
(There’s a slightly longer view of this movie now available here if you’re interested. No spoilers!)

 

In this World

inthisworld

If you don’t know already, you’ll be put off as soon as I tell you what this film is about. Trust me, I know you will. Can I get away with telling you it’s a thriller? No? …OK, it’s about some boys whose family pay to have them leave their village in Afganistan (before the current war, as writing in 2009) and be smuggled into England. To say the journey doesn’t run smoothly is putting it mildly.

BUT WAIT! Come back… it’s not a preachy “oh woe is this shame” movie. It is a thriller as I said. You will be on the edge of your seat and you will know you’re not being lectured. Michael Winterbottom has made some great movies. This is one of his best.

 

 

 

They Shoot Horses Don’t They?

theyshoot1

Yes yes, I know. That box art looks maudlin. Don’t let that put you off though. If you’re like me you’ve wondered many times what everybody ever saw in Jane Fonda. I’ve even seen her in her hey-day and wondered that. Could it just be they’re in love with her father Henry? I’ve often asked myself. Other Fondas are hit and miss.

But anyway, I saw TSHDT (as I like to call it) relatively recently (mid-2000s) for the first time and was blown away. It’s an amazing recessionary tale of survival and dance. It’s like X-Factor (which I hate too!), The Running Man, Rollerball and The Cannonball Run rolled into one. As ridiculous as it sounds, it concerns a depression-era dance marathon that just about never stops… last one standing takes the grand prize of $1,500!!
I am told such things existed in real life, but it’s hard to fathom how it was allowed.

These people are desperate. They put on a show of their life -and yours. Even Red Buttons (who never did much for me either it has to be said) works his socks off and delivers an amazing performance.

And Jane Fonda… oh boy. She is amazing in it too. And looks stunning.
Sydney Pollack directed a number of really good solid movies, including Three Days of the Condor, Tootsie, The Firm and others. I believe They Shoot Horses Don’t They? is possibly his best.

 

The King of Masks

kingofmasks

Not so much underrated as rarely seen, King of Masks features the greatest cinema performance by a child ever. The movie is heartbreaking and uplifting -but never in schmaltzy sentinemtal ways.

Tip: The less you know about the story before watching, the better. But I’ll tell you this much… it’s about an old man looking to pass on his knowledge and secrets to the grandson he never had.

It’s a movie that doesn’t show China in the best light, so for that reason can be hard to find. Well worth the effort.

 

 

 

The Proposition

thepropositionBudget constraints keep this movie from being the all-time-classic it should rightfully be. With just a teensy bit more scope it would easily sit alongside films like Once Upon a Time in the West or Unforgiven.

Guy Pearce is told he can save his younger brother if he goes into the savage wilds and kills his “mad” older brother. A proposition indeed.

What I would (still) absolutely love to see added to the film is an initial half-hour-or-so showing the three immigrant brothers step off the boat in this ‘new world’, full of fear, hope and innocence. *That* alone would catapult this movie to the position in which it belongs.

 

 

 

Failan

failanPlease -do yourself a favour before the inevitable Hollywood remake… do not look at any still pictures from Failan (even the one pictured here!) because they all make it look dire.

Man marries (for ‘mob reasons’) a girl he meets in a registry office. They split with barely a word spoken between them. Much later he falls in love with her -but is it too late to find her?

It’s hard to do this film justice in a synopsis that doesn’t spoil the plot. It’s a gritty film -not the romantic mush it looks like. It’s also top-class filmmaking.

 

 

 

This list of under-rated movies starts here.

 

 

Underrated Movies (Part 1)

..

Happiness, Kids

The Postman Always Rings.. or not

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I ordered Eyepet the other day for PlayStation3 from amazon.co.uk. It’s a virtual pet type thing -for the kids. For Christmas you understand. I know it’s too damn early for that, but it was 30euros including the camera …55 euros locally. No competition. I figured it’ll only get harder/ more expensive as time draws nigh, so best grab it while it’s there at a good price.

Also, with the postal strike in Britain I wasn’t sure if it’d be delayed (I’m not in Britain, but I didn’t know where it might come from you see), so I wasn’t being totally silly.

Anyway, I ordered on Tuesday last week. The kids were off school for the week for mid-term break. Thursday morning I was in the shower when I half-heard my young boy (4) shouting through the door.
I switched off and asked him to repeat what he said…

“Y’know that pet thing we saw for the PS3 on the telly last night!? …IT’S HERE! IT REALLY IS! THE POSTMAN GAVE IT TO US!” He jumped up and down with the slightly-open box in his excited little arms.

I read him the riot act of course …”Capital offence to open someone else’s post -you know you can go to jail for it,” etc. before later coming back with an explanation…
They (he and his sister) knew my friend was in hospital. I told them he asked me to get Eyepet for his nephew’s birthday because he couldn’t. Suitably chastened by their misdeed my kids were happy to buy that line. Phew! 🙂

Despite my anger I was kind of half-proud at the boy’s ingenuity in getting the package open just enough to make out what it was. His sister (8) is adamant she had nothing to do with it (apart from pointing instructions no doubt).

Happiness, Kids

Treated or Tricked?

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I was talking to a mother yesterday who had been trick-or-treating with six kids.

They called to one house where a little old lady came out and distributed five packets of crisps (that’s chips to our American cousins). To the sixth kid she gave a banana.

The kid accepted the gift and said nothing. He quietly hung his head and held his mother’s hand as they made their way from the house.

“I don’t even like bananas!” he finally cried out from a well of sadness.

Film, THING

Underrated Movies (part 3)

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This series of (some of) my favourite under-valued movies begins here.

 

The Last Detail

thelastdetail1
I haven’t yet met a male of the species who has seen this movie and doesn’t think it’s anything short of a masterpiece.

After viewing, Mrs. Rumm said “yeah it’s alright, but there’s no women in it.” She’s wrong in that, but in essence she’s right. It’s all about the men.

Still, do all stories have to involve a woman? I’m sure there are some perfectly good tales involving mostly women. I might even think of one and mention it here shortly. This one happens to be about some men.

A young sailor is being taken to prison by two MPs, one of whom is played by Jack Nicholson. The banter between them (written by Robert “Chinatown, Shampoo & others” Towne) and their whole outlook on life & living, goals & ambitions is all male. That’s not to say it’s stereotypical bravura-male or over-the-top dumb bullheadedness, but somehow it gets to the heart of manness without ramming it through the other side. Nor does it need to go over the top. It is pretty x-rated language if you’re sensitive to that kind of thing though.

Hal Ashby made a number of classic near-perfect films. This is one of them.
Even Randy Quaid is excellent in it. No really!

*STOP THE LIGHTS*: I have now met one man who doesn’t like this film. He found it dated and unnecessarily coarse. Must say I disagree with both issues, but just thought I’d pop that in for balance.

 

The Red Shoes

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One for the men above. Perhaps one for the women here. Then again, what the hell do I know? I’m a man and I love this film. I think every woman should see The Last Detail and everyone should see The Red Shoes too.

Yes it involves ballet. Yes there is a 20 minute unbroken ballet in the middle of it. No I’ve never been to a ballet nor felt the urge.

But it’s not about ballet, in my view. It’s about art -and what it means to create art -and to live for art -and needing to be a part of it -and being in the thick of it -and being unable and unwilling to think of a life without it.

The Red Shoes oozes class, but it’s not stuffy. Much of its cinematography especially is very daring. Tricks are played with the camera and with certain scene setups that would make you sit up and take notice if it had been made in 2009. Not to show off, but to convey thoughts and emotions and ideas beyond what can (or should) be put into words. Its deep colour is like a warm duck-down duvet you want to wrap around you and dissolve into forever.

But again, it’s not all artsy and grand -yes, certain characters are cold and distant, but this is merely the result of the life they lead… or the life they lead is a result of their one-track-mind.
Art is Life/ Life is Art. If it is any other way for you, then that rule does not apply and you do not belong here.

It’s not exactly a love story, but a passion story. That passion has nothing to do with ballet in particular so much as Art in general. If you have a passion (or once had a passion) beyond the physical or material, you will fall in love with this movie and perhaps inspire you onward and upward.

 

The King of Comedy

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I always think of The King of Comedy right after thinking of The Red Shoes (and vice versa). The two are forever linked for me. Maybe it’s because I first saw them around the same time (early/ mid eighties?). I honestly don’t remember.

But I like to think Rupert Pupkin is desperately trying to get into the world occupied by those people in The Red Shoes. He feels he belongs there. Nothing else matters to him except his art -which in this case is “comedy”. He lives for it. Or at least he wants to live for it. And live from it. And he passionately believes he can and should and needs to.

He can’t get a toe in the door, however. He’s too old to start at the bottom. He needs that one shot at the top and he’s willing to do drastic things, such as kidnapping, to get it.

Is he delusional? Is he psychotic? Is he really awful? Is it possible he can pull it off? Should he be allowed get away with it if he could?

I love this film for all of the above reasons, but also because it doesn’t go for the easy or pat answers. It’ll keep you thinking to the end and beyond. Then you’ll want to watch it again and you’ll find new things.

…New things such as, for instance… Remember Maury in Goodfellas? He’s the guy who sold wigs. He played some part in a robbery, then kept nagging for his cut until he was offed in a car. Well that guy has a cameo in King of Comedy… There’s a restaurant scene where Rupert has a date. ‘Maury’ is sitting behind him, briefly mimicking De Niro.

Why?

Here, I found it on youtube. We see ‘Maury’ in the background at the start. He comes back from the toilet or wherever, then he does his mimicking towards the end of the scene, before he leaves.
Have  a look…

Did you see him?

For me, if there is a point in this, it’s that this guy is “on the outside” and is trying to force an image of himself onto those in this “world of the movie”. He wants to be IN like Rupert wants in.

I guess it could also be some kind of outtake where Scorcese later felt De Niro made a better performance and hoped nobody would notice the guy looking at the camera in the background.

I prefer my take on it though. He’s not just looking, he’s playing to the camera -and the earlier shots of him only appear to be setting him up to doing so.

Scorsese hasn’t been thinking this outside-the-box in years and years. He should get back outside that box pronto in my view. He has been going a bit stale this past 10 years or so if you ask me. (…Of course nobody ever asks me, but if they did they’d know a thing or two I tell ya!)

 

One Night At McCool’s

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I’ve never understood how this movie wasn’t a massive hit. It has so many hilarious threads that all come together perfectly it’s almost not even funny how funny it is.

Again, it could come down to the male-female thing, since we’re talking about it above. I’ve seen men criticise it for saying all men are dumb and their brains are in their underpants (these are the ones who don’t find Liv Tyler attractive.. !).
I’ve seen women criticise it for perpetuating the notion that women are evil, manipulative, conniving little vixens.

I don’t believe either is a valid criticism of this movie. I also do believe at least a nugget of truth can exist in both -which is what makes One Night At McCool’s so funny.

 

 

One Hour Photo

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One Hour Photo is one of those movies that is hard to say much about without spoiling. I’ll only say, I don’t like serial-killer type movies (as I said in a previous post in this series), but this film does not fall into that hole in any way, shape or form.

It’s a movie about loneliness and idolatry and far away hills being green. It’s also a movie about faith and what happens when belief in a particular notion is cracked open. Anything can happen.

Robin Williams, alas, has become a kind of caricature. It’s hard to see him in a film without sighing at his no-longer-funny outbursts and twee pursing of his lips. But rejoice, for Robin Williams is nowhere to be seen in One Hour Photo! It’s like a different person. There is no likeable movie star on show. The man on show in this movie is like a blank canvas whose actions are beautifully portrayed by the guy who used to be in Mork and Mindy believe it or not!

We never know what’s in his head or where he has been.

Around the same time as this movie came out, Williams played a kind of similar role in another movie, Insomnia. I really liked his performance in that too, but I’ll have to watch it again before mentioning it here, so you could do worse than have a quality night in with Robin Williams ( ! ) by renting/ buying/ downloading these two films. If you haven’t seen One Hour Photo in particular you will find yourself re-evaluating everything you ever thought you ever knew about him.

 

More underrated movies here.

 

 

Film

Underrated Movies (Part 2)

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More movies that should be more popular. Why they should be and why they’re not.  According to me.

It began here.

 

Indiana Jones and The Temple of Doom

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OK it’s not exactly a forgotten classic, but it is in my opinion the most overlooked, underestimated and rewatchable Indiana Jones movie.  From what I hear, both Spielberg and Lucas feel they got the atmosphere wrong. They made it too scary, then too childish. The tone is all over the place. It’s neither fish nor fowl, for children nor for adults.

The non-US release (on video/dvd at least -in Europe at least) had all the ‘horror’ parts cut out, so we don’t see any severed hand in a box or live-heart extractions to the same degree, etc.. With a result the movie comes across as a ridiculous cartoon with no tension. Children shouldn’t be frightened you see! This is Spielberg’s favoured cut of the film (when last I asked him) and I think he’s wrong. Dead wrong.

The US release however still has these scenes intact, which helps the more ridiculous moments to be seen as more like light-relief rather than movie-defining set pieces.

Spielberg and Lucas are remaking/ revisiting those 1950s Saturday matinee action B-class movie serials, so the Indy movies are meant to be hokey and silly and fun as we all know. But what the boys seem to have forgotten is these (original) movies were actually scary at times, once upon a time. They weren’t always only for children. Temple of Doom (uncut) to my mind has that mix of moods just right. It’s not a consistent tone, but I don’t want consistency. I want thrills and dumbness and action and room for the characters to breathe. This is the Indy for me.

 

The Man Who Wasn’t There

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Never write off the Coens. That’s an adage I hold in high regard. To be honest I found this movie very dull and pointless the first time I saw it.The casting of well known actors particularly distracted me. They didn’t seem to fit in this black and white 50s period piece for the most part.

Still, it was going cheap a while later and I bought the DVD. It sat on my shelf for over a year unwatched and unloved. It might as well have not been there.

Then, one day I felt ready. I put it on and fell in love almost immediately with the rich black & white, the hilarious performances and with Billy Bob Thornton’s look, silence and screen presence.

Now I believe the casting of the often larger-than-life secondary characters is inspirational. Almost certainly I had been distracted by these characters and the overall series of events first time around, with a result I barely took note of the central performance, which I suppose is the whole point.

Still, we can’t appreciate a character’s ways or subtleties (or lack of them) until we better know who they are and how they will react to events. Billy Bob’s character in The Man Who Wasn’t There takes a little longer to get to know than most.

As with all the best films in my view, The Man Who Wasn’t There warrants a second look.  And many more. He’s there alright. You just have to keep looking.

 

Divided We Fall

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It’s easy to do nazis. Nobody can criticise a movie for being unfair to them. Nobody is going to rush up and say “actually it wasn’t quite like that…” because we all know they are the baddies and even if it wasn’t like that they deserve no better.

With the result, nazis have become a 2-dimensional dartboard. Any film that presents a multi-faceted dimension (such as for example, the excellent Downfall) is immediately criticised and attacked for making excuses for the actions. This is a dangerous airbrushing to my mind. How are we to recognise the faux-friendly, charismatic, populist, persuading face of such Powers if we’ve only ever seen the comic book Evil in all its height? What would we do if we suddenly opened our eyes to find ourselves in the middle of a world where fear invades every private thought and action?

Why did millions of people in many countries across Europe do nothing while the worst atrocities were being performed under their noses? Did they know? Did they want to know? Did they consciously mean to support the nazis in their ultimate aim? All of them?

Not many films broach the topic. It’s easier to show ‘Evil’ and atrocities and to point the finger and say “see how despicable this is!” and wait for the awards to flow in.

Divided We Fall looks like it might fall into this category, but it hasn’t been lauded and praised as highly as all the other “Holocaust movies” so it’s hard to muster the energy to watch it.

But this is an example of a great story being tarred with the brush of others. It’s actually not a holocaust movie at all. There are no concentration camps or easy tear-jerking scenes. It’s actually a very funny movie that understands the need for humour in the darkest of moments. Too many WWII tales miss this entirely -or lack the courage to show it.

Anyway the box/ poster above, I know, does nothing to sell the story. It doesn’t exactly make you want to see it, but I’m not sure what would… other than a persuasive recommendation. I hope this mini-mention persuades you to at least think about sourcing and viewing Divided We Fall. Don’t be put off. It’s funny. It’s frightening. It’s never exploitative or predictable. It’s a small film, but a lot more real and revealing and rewarding (and dare I say “enjoyable”?) than the big budget gut-wrenching, soul-sucking, hard-slog “retellings of the time” we all feel duty bound to sit through from time to time.

If you have have a chance to see it, see it. You won’t regret it.

 

Nobody’s Fool

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As with Divided We Fall above this film suffers from being hard to assess without actually seeing it. It could be a bit twee and melodramatic and most of us would rather not waste our time finding out. Life is too short and there are too many other films out there than to bother with something that looks like it might turn into a sopfest or something your mother would watch on a wet Sunday whilst waiting for Antiques Roadshow to come on.

This is the first film I watched (that I can think of) that made me want to read the book it is based on. Normally, if I haven’t already read the book, watching the movie is enough (for right or wrong). After Nobody’s Fool ended however, I felt like I hadn’t spent enough time with these characters. I wanted more.

Then I read the book by Richard Russo and I’m happy to report it too is great (even better of course!) and well worth reading. There are marvellous plots and subplots and characters in the book that had to be omitted if the film was to be made at all. That’s understandable -and the cuts are so well made for the film it’s not easy to see where more layers can or should fit if you haven’t read the book first.

After I finished reading the book I still felt I hadn’t spent enough time with these people, which started me checking out Richard Russo’s  other books. All to date have been great, but Nobody’s Fool still has a special appeal to me.

Paul Newman has rarely, if ever, been better in my opinion. And I include The Verdict in that.

 

Brotherhood of the Wolf

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I don’t seem to like most blockbuster action movies. I think it’s because they’re mostly dishonest, over-manipulative, formulaic, over-serious, over-bloated, childish wastes of celluloid (or RAM), featuring a one-man-goody-two-shoes who is actually a “somehow moral” psycho, killing only other psychos -so it’s all alright. None of which can be said of Brotherhood of the Wolf.

Nobody is “the good guy”. Well not really. Which, to my mind makes the long list of psycho fighters a lot of unadulterated fun, bereft of the emotional baggage your average Hollywood blockbuster would have us believe we must have.

If you do see it, make sure you’re watching the director’s cut. It goes on forever and it’s a ride you won’t forget too soon.

What is it? …Well, for starters it’s French language (Canadian). Set in 18th century France, where everybody fights in a Kung Fu style. For no apparent reason that’s the fighting method of choice. They’re all at it. Including the women. And what women! It’s maad I tell you. Monica Bellucci melts the screen with her sizzling charms (no, she doesn’t fight to my recollection) and never looked better. That’s saying something. Her husband is in it too. That’s saying nothing.

Apart from not featuring a cleaner-than-thou pure-Good psycho for underage children to look up to, I believe the other reason this film was not a success is the rather-special special effects. It’s some time into the movie before we get to see “the beast” that has been terrorising the countryside. When we do our collective hearts drop because it’s so bad it belongs in something like Scooby Doo.

Although this does take us out of the movie, it’s not really about the beast himself, so for me it’s a forgiveable problem.The ultimate “explanation” is (or would be) a lot more realistic than this ridiculous computer model would have us believe though, so hang in there!

Obviously budget and CGI-ability at the time (2002) played a big part in its sub-parness. I reckon a revised director’s cut is called for, with a new digital beast using today’s technology. It should cost a lot less now too.

I doubt that will come at this stage, though. 🙁

Anyway, the movie rips along and you never know where it’s going to take you or how it will be resolved (if it is to be resolved!) Neither does it kowtow to PC-sensibilities. In fact, if there’s something you hold dear your sensibilities will almost certainly be stomped on one way or another by the end of this film.

Other than the cheap-looking CGI, the rest of the film doesn’t look or feel too low-budget. In every other way it’s a large canvas, bodice-ripping action adventure for adults who can appreciate a story that is not on rails.

It’s a movie like none other -17th century French Kung Fu, with nary an Asian person in sight to at least pretend it makes any sense. Yet it is based on actual events. With added kung fu, naturally.

Watch at your peril. It’s a great movie if you’ve found yourself tiring of the standard formula, but you have been warned.

…Now I really feel like watching this again after all that. I hope you do too!

 

More here.