How Not To Be a Boy

Posted: November 11, 2017 in Book reviews
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By Robert Webb

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Before he was a husband and father, before he danced for comic relief, before he found fame as one half of a somewhat successful double act with David Mitchell, before he went to Cambridge and became vice president of Footlights…before all of this Robert Webb was just a boy like any other boy.

Well maybe not like any other boy, because he didn’t always seem to think and act like all the other boys, but growing up in the 70s and 80s he was very clearly given certain rules to follow; don’t cry, love sport, play rough, drink beer, don’t talk about your feelings.

Now Robert wonders if these rules are any use, and explores what it means to be male in the 21st Century.

 

As a big fan of Mitchell and Webb, and having read David Mitchell’s autobiography, Back Story, there was no way I wasn’t going to read Robert Webb’s book, although calling it a straightforward autobiography does it something of a disservice. Oh, sure it’s autobiographical, but Robert has a point to make beyond just regaling us with his life story, and for me it resonated quite a bit.

I share a lot of common ground with Robert. Not so much now, what with him being star of stage and screen and me, well me not being a star of stage and screen. I never went to Cambridge and my parents didn’t divorce when I was a child and I certainly didn’t have to experience the trauma of losing my mum when I was a teenager.

But setting aside all of that there’s a lot of the book that felt very familiar. I’m two years older than Robert Webb and, like him, was a working-class boy, so when he talks about a childhood spent in the 1970s and 1980s this is the kind of childhood with which I was acquainted. He talks about the Television shows he watched and it was the same telly I watched; The A-Team, Buck Rogers, Doctor Who etc. But beyond this is how he was described as a sensitive child. A quiet child. God did I ever hear myself described in that fashion time and again, and though unlike Robert I do actually like football (watching it at least) I too recall standing on a football pitch trying to stay as far away from the action as possible and dreading the ball coming anywhere near me.

Anyone expecting a book chock full of celebrity tittle tattle may be somewhat disappointed. Robert does touch on this aspect of his life, and there’s a wonderful story featuring Carrie Fisher, but for the most part this isn’t really about Peep Show or That Mitchell and Webb Look, it’s about growing up, about how difficult it is to be a boy, and a man, and how expectations and the unwritten rules affect all of us, especially when it comes to sharing our feelings. It’s no surprise that men are more likely to kill themselves than women after all, but this also helps explain (but not excuse) what’s now referred to as toxic masculinity, because growing up if you didn’t drink lots of pints and shag lots of birds, well what was wrong with you? You weren’t a poofter, were you?

Robert’s prose is a little workmanlike at times, but on the whole its eminently readable. It’s also honest, brutally honest. This is a warts and all life story; he doesn’t hide from any of the things he’s done, many of which he clearly regrets and none of which he seems inclined to excuse himself for, even if at times you kinda think he had a bloody big excuse for being a dick.

This is a book to be enjoyed on several levels, both as a straightforward autobiography, but also as a meditation on masculinity. If, like me, you’re a bloke who grew up around the same era, then I think this will resonate for you too, but I think this is a book that anyone, irrespective of age or gender, can appreciate.

An enjoyable, often very funny, and sometimes very sad, tale of a man who, before he was famous, was just a boy, and a fairly rubbish boy at that, or at least a boy who felt rubbish because of society’s expectations about what a boy should be. Suffice to say I know the feeling, and it’s nice to know I wasn’t alone.

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The Write Pace

Posted: November 6, 2017 in Regarding writing
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I love being on Twitter, but as a writer there’s good and bad to this. On the up side I’m now part of a bigger community of fellow writers, and people share a lot of good practice/good ideas. On the downside, not only do I have an appreciation of just how many other writers are out there (which is a sobering thought whenever I submit anything) but you also have to deal with people proclaiming they’ve “just written 1500 words”, or worse, the somewhat dispirited tweets that go along the lines of “Damn, I only wrote 2000 words today.”

If, like me, you might have only written 500 words today, it’s easy to be a little disheartened by these kinds of tweet sometimes. But I shouldn’t, and neither should you. Writing is like many other things, there’s no single right way to do it, there are in fact multiple right ways, and multiple wrong ways, and each of us needs to choose our own path.

There’s a school of thought that says you should write every day—and in fairness I always feel more relaxed if I write every day—and that the only way to succeed as a writer is to make it a habit, which is fine when you can write 1000 words every single day, but if you can’t keep to this kind of schedule for any reason, it’s easy to feel like a fraud or a failure.

It’s worth remembering that most people who write several thousand words a day will be people who have the time to write several thousand words a day. Now, maybe that’s because they’re a professional writer and it’s effectively their day job, maybe it’s because they have a lot of free time, or maybe it’s because they’re exceptionally well organised and are able to break their whole day down into regimented chunks, even though they have a thousand and one things to do.

But just because they can, it doesn’t mean you’re rubbish if you can’t. We all lead busy lives, and if you have a stressful job with long hours, or you have small children, or older relatives to care for, or even if you’re just not the most organised of people, it’s easy to think “I don’t have time to write”, easy to use lack of time as an excuse not to write. “Oh I couldn’t give it the time and attention it deserves, not like those people who write for hours at a time.”

Things writers are good at; procrastinating, feeling like imposters, and using any old excuse not to write.

So here’s the rub. Maybe you can’t write every day, maybe you can’t even write every other day, maybe you can only write for an hour on a Thursday evening because that’s when your husband/wife takes you three year old sextuplets swimming and you finally get some alone time. Let’s say during that hour you can write 1000 words. So there you go, 1000 words a week when some people are writing that (and more) in a single day.

Screw some people.

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Write 1000 words a week and you might have an award winning short story in a month.

Write 1000 words a week and in six months you might have written a novella.

Write 1000 words a week and in fourteen months you might have written a novel.

Sure, if your plan is to create something like Game of Thrones then at that rate it’s going to take you a long time to complete (but hey, you might still finish before George RR Martin does) but with dedication you can still finish it. You can run a marathon in three hours, or take nine hours, or a day, but at the end of the day you’ve still run a marathon. And actually writing is better than marathon running, because if you take a day to run a marathon you’ll never win a gold medal, but you can spend 10 years writing a novel and it can still end up a best seller/Booker prize winner!

Which doesn’t mean you don’t want to make writing a habit, you absolutely do, it just means that your particular habit doesn’t have to be the norm (whatever the norm is). If you can happily write for an hour a day, do so, if you can only spare 15 minutes during your lunch hour, that’s fine too, if you can only write at weekends so what? Whatever works for you is the right choice for you so long as you do one thing, and that’s actually write.

Set yourself targets by all mean, but make them realistic ones. If you can only write while you’re on your annual caravanning holiday to Skegness then don’t expect to finish your epic fantasy trilogy this side of 2050, although you never know, some crazy fools have been known to write an entire novel in just a few days; Stephen King wrote The Running Man during a rather frenzied week! That’s probably not recommended though.

The specifics of your writing pattern are not important, and certainly there’s nothing to be gained by comparing it to anyone else’s writing pattern, what’s important is that you have a pattern and as far as possible you stick to it.

Remember, whether you write 5000 words a day or 500 you’re still a writer. You only cease to be a writer when you write nothing.

The Death of Stalin.

Posted: November 4, 2017 in Film reviews
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Directed by Armando Iannucci. Starring Steve Buscemi, Simon Russell Beale, Jason Isaacs, Michael Palin, Andrea Riseborough, Jeffrey Tambor, Olga Kurylenko and Rupert Friend.

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“Ok, who farted?”

The year is 1953 and the Soviet Union is ruled with an iron fist by Joseph Stalin (Adrian Mcloughlin). Within this world even Stalin’s inner circle live in constant fear of saying the wrong thing and being arrested by the NKVD (the infamous secret police)

When Stalin unexpectedly dies the senior most members of the Presidium begin jockeying for power, trying to determine who will replace Stalin.  Georgy Malenkov (Tambor) takes initial charge, but the real battle is between Nikita Khrushchev (Buscemi) and Beria (Russell Beale) the feared head of the NKVD. For the victor ultimate power awaits, but for the loser a bullet may be the only prize…

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“Has anyone ever told you you’re kinda funny looking?”

The battle for power at the head of an evil regime notorious for the murder, rape and torture of millions, may not sound like the greatest premise for a comedy, but Iannucci’s film is genuinely laugh out loud funny at times and, based on a graphic novel of the same name, it provides a biting satire that is as chilling as it is hilarious.

Much of the humour arises out of how incompetent many of the conspirators are. These are not exactly Machiavellian geniuses, and yet their very ordinariness makes them all the more scary, and Iannucci provides a terrifying essay of the bureaucracy of evil, where even Khrushchev, one of the most powerful men in the country, is so paranoid of getting on Stalin’s bad side that he has his wife jot down which jokes Stalin found funny and which he didn’t during dinner, and for all the humour Iannucci never lets you forget the horrible things this regime is doing, and how the flick of a pen can find your name added to a list and make you the recipient of a late night knock at the door.

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No pithy comment because in truth there was nothing funny about Beria’s lists

This is an actors film and the casting is flawless. As Khrushchev Buscemi is superb, his innate likeability making you root for him in the ongoing power struggle, making you see him as the good guy, which is of course a fallacy, none of these men were good, but next to Beria of course, they’re all saints, and Russell Beale is also terrifyingly good as the head of the NKVD, a vicious sexual predator for whom no act is too heinous.

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Zhukov gets serious

Almost stealing the show however is Jason Isaacs as Marshall Zhukov, playing the blustering war hero with a broad Yorkshire accent and a chest full of medals that would pull most men to the floor (and is accurate because Zhukov really did have chest full of medals.) Zhukov is larger than life and Isaacs eats up every scene he’s in.

Tambor is astonishing as Malenkov, made up to resemble nothing short of an embalmed corpse, and its testament to his acting ability that he eventually makes Malenkov someone to pity, despite his bumbling arrogance. At the other end of the spectrum is Michael Palin as Molotov, such a party man that he happily denounced his own wife as a traitor.

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You’re playing for Stalin. No pressure!

Whilst primarily a film centred around male performances, there are two female characters, each of whom get to play a substantial role in the story. As concert pianist Maria Yudina, Olga Kurylenko is ironically the only main cast member with a Russian accent, with Iannucci deciding early on to let the actors use their natural accents. Kurylenko is very good as the nearest thing to a conscience the film has, and if there’s a problem with her it’s only insofar as she disappears for a large chunk of the middle of the film.

Andrea Riseborough plays Stalin’s daughter Svetlana as a somewhat schizophrenic character, at times extremely cognisant of her precarious situation, at others a spoiled child who thinks she can have whatever she wants, even a former lover back from the dead. She’s very good and Rupert Friend also shines as her brother Vasily, a pompous drunk who thinks Stalin’s death was part of a plot to send his father’s brain to America!

The set and costume designs are excellent, evoking a very different time and a very different place, but it’s the script and the performances where The Death of Stalin really hits home. The script walks a tightrope with a confident ease that will have you chuckling one moment, and wincing the next.

Whether you view it as a satirical deconstruction of the Soviet Union and a saltatory warning against cults of personality, or simply a surreal 20th Century set, Monty Pythonesque version of Game of Thrones, there’s a lot to like here, and best of all; in a world of sequels and prequels, reboots and franchises, The Death of Stalin is that rarest of beasts.

Original.

So go see it, unless you’d rather end up on a list of course?

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“I can see my house from up here!”

 

Thor: Ragnarok

Posted: October 31, 2017 in Film reviews
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Directed by Taika Waititi. Starring Chris Hemsworth, Tom Hiddleston, Cate Blanchett, Idris Elba, Jeff Goldblum, Tessa Thompson, Karl Urban, Mark Ruffalo and SIR Anthony Hopkins.

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It’s clubbering time!

Following on from the end of Thor: The Dark World, and the God of Thunder has been searching without success for the Infinity Stones. After an encounter with a fire demon, and with visions of Ragnarok (the Asgard apocalypse myth) haunting him, Thor (Hemsworth) decides to go home, little realising that his adoptive brother Loki (Hiddleston) has deposed their father Odin (Hopkins) and is masquerading as the old man.

Thor quickly sees through Loki’s disguise, but when the brothers travel to Earth to find Odin, a tragic event has far reaching consequences as Hela (Blanchett) the goddess of death is released from her millennia of captivity and sets her sights on seizing the throne of Asgard. Thor tries to stop her but during battle he’s cast out into space and crashes on the planet Sakaar where the dictator Grandmaster (Goldblum) decides Thor’s future lies in the arena, and his first fight is scheduled against the Grandmaster’s champion, a large, angry green creature who Thor recognises…

Will Thor escape from the arena, and even if he does can he hope to stand against the Goddess of Death herself?

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Everyone knew Hulk’s obsession with Roman cosplay had gone too far…but no one wanted to be the one to tell him!

If I’m honest Thor has never captured my attention in the way certain other Avengers have, and whilst the first Thor film was enjoyable enough (especially when Thor made it to Earth and went from pompous git to loveable fool) Thor: The Dark World was a major let-down. It’s pleasing to report therefore, that not only is Ragnarok the best Thor film of the three, but it might well be argued that it’s one of the better Marvel films altogether.

The problem has never been Hemsworth, who’s always played the God of Thunder with gusto, or Hiddleston who has Loki’s slithery nature down to a tee now, it’s just that neither of the previous Thor films quite did them justice, and probably the best Thor/Loki film before now was the first Avengers film.

It’s hard to argue that much of Ragnarok’s success is down to a change of tone, and some very assured direction by New Zealander Waititi, who not only does a bang-up job behind the camera, but also threatens to steal the show in front of it with his amusing turn as Korg, one of Thor’s fellow gladiators. It seems Waititi allowed for a lot of improvisation, and whilst this can work against a film, especially one aiming for a lot of laughs, in this case, and backed up by a witty script, it works wonders.

Remember I said there was a shift in tone? Well it basically comes down to Ragnarok being an awful lot funnier than previous Thor films. Which isn’t to suggest it doesn’t have its dark moments, there’s death and destruction aplenty, but this film feels more like another Guardians of the Galaxy  than Captain America: Civil War.

In some ways it’s surprising it’s taken them this long. For all his brooding muscled handsomeness, it’s easy to miss what wonderful comic timing Hemsworth has (see the Ghostbusters reboot for further details) and he’s always happy to have the Michael taken out of himself. Thor is kinda arrogant, but he also seems to realise he’s arrogant, and this never puts you off because any time it does Hemsworth will perform a slapstick pratfall worthy of Buster Keaton.

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I know at least one person who’d quite like to find Tom in this position!

Similarly Hiddleston gets to play, well if not the hero per se, then at least someone slightly less villainous than before, although the character is never diluted too far, and even in his more heroic moments its clear he’s only in it for himself…mostly.

It’s hardly a spoiler to say that Hulk is in the film, and once again Ruffalo proves (much like Scarlett Johansson) that it’s a crying shame he hasn’t had his own movie yet, and given Thor and Banner haven’t shared that much screen time together there’s an easy chemistry between them that’s wonderful to behold.

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Ok, Tessa, slow motion walk towards the camera please.

New to the party is Tessa Thompson as Valkyrie, and she kicks some serious butt, both in her verbal and physical sparring and one hopes we’ll see a lot more of her. The trailer may have made it look like she was just a glorified extra added in to bulk up the numbers, but she’s anything but.

As Grandmaster, Goldblum is, well he’s Jeff Goldblum so you know what you’re going to get, and he has to be one of the most laidback evil dictators you’ll ever meet! As Hela, Blanchett is the complete opposite. Exuding deadliness and sexiness in equal measure she owns the screen every time she’s on it, it’s just a shame we don’t see more of her to be honest.

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Careful Karl, cos she’s horny; horny, horny, horny!

Karl Urban’s Skurge is a relatively minor character, but as he always does Urban wrings every last drop of charisma from his script and much like Hela it’s a shame we don’t see more of him. He also gets one of the standout moments of the film.

Somewhat less well served is Elba as Heimdall, although he does get more to do than just twirling a sword to open the Bifrost this time at least.

As sparkling as the characters and witticisms are, the design of the film is great too, from its somewhat eclectic soundtrack, which feels like a 1980s synth sci-fi film in places, to the spaceship designs, which look like they were ripped from the front covers of a whole heap of 1970s and 1980s classic science fiction novels, Thor is a visual and auditory wonder. It’s not Blade Runner 2049 by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s still pretty glorious.

If I were to pick faults you can argue that however good Blanchett is, Hela always seems a bit of a two dimensional villain, and yes the cameo early on for another Marvel superhero does seem a trifle superfluous (though it is quite amusing) and I guess you could argue that for all that it’s a lot of fun there isn’t much behind that…but screw it, sometimes you don’t need anything more than a whole lot of fun, and Thor: Ragnarok is so darn enjoyable that you barely notice its flaws.

It was a curious, and possibly brave, choice by Marvel to essentially give us two Guardian of the Galaxy films in the same year, but you can’t argue it hasn’t paid dividends. Don’t ask me to decide which one I prefer however, because I think I’m going to need to see them both again before I can decide—if I even can!

So Ragnarok, Thor blimey its good!

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“Oh hey, look, it’s Paul’s readers. Hi Paul’s readers.” (You totally read that with Jeff’s voice in your head didn’t you?)

Earlier in the year I entered a sci-fi short story competition hosted by the National Space Centre in collaboration with Literary Leicester Festival, and I found out a few weeks ago that I’d been chosen as the runner up in the 16+ category!

I’ll be presented with my prize, and read a short excerpt from my story, on the 18th November (and hopefully will be able to post some pics) but until then if you’d like to read my story it’s free to read on the National Space Centre website so just follow the link HERE and enjoy!

Blade Runner 2049

Posted: October 21, 2017 in Film reviews, science fiction
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Directed by Denis Villeneuve. Starring Ryan Gosling and Harrison Ford.

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“Aren’t you a little short for a Blade Runner?”

After concerns about Nexus 8 Replicants rebelling against their human masters, such artificial lifeforms were outlawed, only to be replaced by the far more compliant Nexus 9 models. Still many Nexus 8, and earlier models, still exist and must be hunted down. K (Gosling) is a Blade Runner working for the LAPD and specifically for Lt. Joshi (an excellent Robin Wright). After tracking down a rogue Nexus 8 named Sapper Morton (the always great Dave Bautista) K stumbles upon a thirty-year-old mystery, and investigating this mystery will lead him towards a former Blade Runner who’s been in hiding. A man named Rick Deckard…

Ok first things first. This will be, as much as possible, a spoiler free review.

Secondly. I found the first half an hour or so of this film hard going. On the up side this left another 2 ¼ hours that I loved (and I suspect on second viewing it’ll be the whole film I love.)

The notion of a sequel to 1982’s cult classic has always seemed a shaky proposition, especially once you factor in Ridley Scott’s involvement and the fact that his attempts to reinvigorate another film franchise he started have been somewhat ropey to say the least (the best things you can say about Prometheus and Covenant is that they look pretty, and that Michael Fassbender’s a good actor working with terrible material).

What gave me hope was the presence in the director’s chair of Villeneuve. His last two films were Scicario and Arrival, and if you’ve read my reviews you’ll know I loved ‘em both.  Villeneuve is a very good director, and in partnership once more with cinematographer Roger Deakins (whom he worked with on Scicario) and working with a script cowritten by Hampton Fancher (one of the original’s screenwriters) he has achieved that most rare of things, a decades later sequel that’s actually very good.

Be under no illusions, Blade Runner 2049 is better than it has any right to be. The filmmakers have crafted a visually stunning masterpiece here that feels utterly like a continuation of Blade Runner, whilst telling a much broader story.

The scope and attention to detail here are amazing. Earlier in the year Ghost in the Shell looked pretty, but it was hollow, little more than painted facade. Blade Runner 2049 is the real deal, portraying a fully rounded future world that utterly convinces as an evolution of LA in 2019.

Which is not to suggest that the film is all style and no substance. It’s true the script may not quite live up to the visuals, but that doesn’t mean it’s a failure, and the film has a lot to say about the nature of humanity, about belief, truth, memory, sacrifice and specifically about slavery.

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La La Land 2049 took everyone by surprise.

 

Ryan Gosling is superb, initially playing K very enigmatically (much like his eponymous Driver) gradually he lets the walls come down as time and truths break down K’s psyche. He’s a very different kind of Blade Runner to Deckard, although they share the same melancholic loneliness, only in K’s case it’s mitigated somewhat be his “relationship” with Joi (Ana de Armas) his holographic AI girlfriend. It’s testament to the script and de Armas’ performance that Joi feels more human than some of the human characters, but it’s never forgotten that she is as much a slave as any replicant.

Of course K isn’t the only Blade Runner here, because there’s the return of Harrison Ford (hardly a spoiler unless you’ve managed to avoid any poster or trailer in the last few months!). Harrison’s enjoying a bit of a renaissance lately is fair, and it is odd that he’s returning to franchises he had distanced himself from for so long, but it’s great to see him back here, even if it isn’t quite as lump in the throat inducing as his return as Han.

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“That’s not how replicants work!”

If there’s an issue with Ford it’s mainly down to him not being in the film as much as you might have hoped, although it’s way more than a fleeting cameo appearance and he is integral to the plot. He takes grizzled to a whole new level and he and Gosling bounce well off each other. He also gets the chance to properly act when…well, that’d be telling.

Rounding out the cast are Jered Leto, who isn’t terrible, but is saddled with a somewhat two-dimensional villain role. Thankfully he isn’t in it much. Much more present is Luv (Sylvia Hoeks) an unstoppable replicant enforcer who makes Roy Batty look like a fluffy bunny. Hoeks is superb, scary and menacing yet capable of charm as well, though it’s a shame a certain emotional affectation is never really explained.

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“All right, Luv, no need to get angry. You can have another drink.”

I won’t go into the plot too much, except that to say this is a film that did manage to surprise me a couple of times, and one rug pull in particular I did not see coming.

There have been complaints that the film is misogynistic and objectifies women, and whilst I can see where these arguments are coming from, I think the film is far more nuanced than initial appearances suggest. There are multiple strong female characters, and whilst in many cases they’re slaves lacking true free will, it can be argued that pretty much every character in the film, from human to replicant to AI hologram, is a slave to something, be it only an idea, and even Leto’s Niander Wallace is enslaved to the idea of progress.

The notion of free will is prevalent throughout, and whilst the film obviously riffs on the original Blade Runner, these riffs are expertly done, and echo the past without plagiarising it. The film also owes a lot to other sources, from obvious ones like the story of Pinocchio, to more left field influences; there’s more than a passing nod to Dickens here, especially in the form of an orphanage owner played by Lennie James who evokes Oliver Twist’s Mr Bumble, even down to his outfit.

It’s a long film, but I can honestly say that I didn’t want it to end, so immersed in the world had I become. Quite possibly one of the most visually stunning films I’ve seen, and the sound design is equally impressive, with Hans Zimmer and Benjamin Wallfisch’s score again evoking Vangelis without copying him.

Beautiful and heartrending, Blade Runner is a triumph and easily one of my top three films of the year. Go see it!

Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s a wasp crawling on my arm…

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By 2049 you’ll have to go a long way to find a parking space.

 

Pulp Fiction

Posted: October 17, 2017 in Book reviews
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By Quentin Tarantino

Jules and Vincent are hired killers, Butch is a punch-drunk boxer with one last pay day ahead of him. Marcellus Wallace is a crime boss who only likes to be fucked by Mrs Wallace, and Mrs Wallace, well she wants to dance, she wants to win, and maybe she wants a hit of what she thinks is cocaine.

Over the space of a few days their lives will intersect, and not everyone will get out of this story alive.

Reading a script is a lot different to reading a novel. For starters they tend to be a much quicker read—realistically you should be able to read a script in the time it takes you to watch the completed film. A script is a story boiled down to its constituent elements, with every ounce of fat trimmed from a story’s bones.

There’s a rush to reading a script, especially a good script, and whatever his faults—and I think he has a few—reading the script to Pulp Fiction is a salient reminder that Mr Quentin Tarantino has (had?) a huge amount of talent.

I’ve watched Pulp Fiction dozens of times, and I’ve always thought it is a fantastic film (and it remains to this day my favourite QT film) but even so reading the script has made me love it more.

Weaving multiple narratives, back and forth in time, Tarantino produced an elegant, finely tuned story that even on the page makes perfect sense, grabs you by the scruff of the neck and gives you no choice but to come along for the ride.

And what a ride it is.

Tarantino’s dialogue crackles with electricity, each individual conversation sparks more vividly than entire screenplays by other writers. Sure, there’s an argument that all of his characters sound kinda the same, but when the dialogue is this good, and when it’s back before he began believing his own hype, who damn well cares?

This was bought me as a birthday present by friends because I’d told them I was contemplating trying my hand at screenplays, and if you’re going to learn why not learn from the best. There’s a reason this script won an Oscar after all.

It’s interesting as well to catch sight of bits that didn’t make the final film, either because they were excised completely, or because they were reworked during filming (and I have to say this was always for the better).

Pulp Fiction’s a great film, and the script was a great (not to mention educational) read.

Although mention of Harvey Weinstein in the credits is more than a little sobering mind you…