So... seeing as I thoroughly disliked the first Maleficent film, why did I even bother with the sequel? Well, one, at the time I saw it I was staying at home for two weeks, shielding the world around me from my mild cough and watching a lot of telly (heroic, right?). Two, I had seen the trailer and... actually, it didn't look too bad. Of course, Maleficent wouldn't turn out to be the real Big Bad - that part was clearly meant for Michelle Pfeiffer's icy Queen Ingrith - but there were hints that she would at least be allowed to be wrong. I liked the idea of her being so overprotective of Aurora that she disapproves of Aurora's suitor Prince Philip. For once, that "letting go of a loved one" message that has marred more than one Disney film (and Pixar film) could be put to some good use. The idea that Maleficent, who first became a villain when she cursed Aurora and (in this franchise, nowhere else!) was saved by her love for the girl, would turn villainous again because of that same love for that same girl was pretty neat. Maleficent would learn in the end that Aurora had enough love for both her and Philip, and that could ideally make for a better redemption arc than in the first film. The only thing that had me worried was the introduction of a whole fairy (or "fey") species to which Maleficent belonged. Please, please, not the "alien species standing in for put-upon minority" plot line which I absolutely hate!
Maleficent: Mistress of Evil turned out to be neither as good as I'd hoped it could be, nor as awful as I feared it could also easily be. There's still the glaring problem, made more apparent by the misleading film title, of having a Maleficent who is actually quite nice. This, as I've already ranted about when writing about the first film, is something no-one asked for. People wanted to see more of a fascinating villain - not some misunderstood Moor Queen who isn't very villainous at all except that one time when she, um, cursed a baby. The pompous narrative voice picks up the same "you're all wrong about Maleficent" thread as last time at the start of the film, sounding appalled that Maleficent is, when film two takes place, still regarded as evil, although she herself broke Aurora's curse. Yeah, well... that doesn't make it OK to cast it in the first place, does it? If you're going to rehabilitate a fairy-tale villain (or just about any famous villain of fiction), by all means give him or her relatable motives and show their ability to mend their ways. But don't pretend they never did anything bad to start with. That just doesn't work. Also, the whole "flipping the coin" scenario of making the bad guy the good guy and vice versa adds no nuance to a story - it's still black and white, only the parts have been swapped. King Stephan in Maleficent had little more depth than Maleficent in the animated Sleeping Beauty as a villain, only he was a lot less cool.
Anyway... this being the follow-up, Maleficent's lack of evil-doing is less of a problem than in the first film. We have already internalised that in this particular fictional universe, old Mal is really all right. So when it turns out that the whole jealousy of Philip thing won't be that big a deal, it is disappointing but not too surprising. On the plus side, the "oh, the poor fey are oppressed by the ghastly humans" angle isn't played up either. Instead, there are faults on both sides, and the message is a harmless enough "let's all just get along" one. I have to say this much, I enjoyed watching this film more than the first. With Maleficent we got the standard "poor little misunderstood villain" story, which always makes me think of the old cartoon where the wolf (unsuccessfully) tried to convince a jury that actually Red Riding Hood and her grandmother were trying to kill him. At least, Maleficent: Mistress of Evil isn't that. The question is: what is it?
Part of what makes this film interesting enough to watch once (but probably never again) is that it's a complete mess. The revoltingly cutesy moor critters are still with us from the first film, as are the three fairies who, if still pretty annoying and a far cry from their charming animated counterparts, are a bit more bearable this time. New additions are a baby root (who looks like a hedgehog) and a baby mushroom, both with large doll-like eyes. But mixed in with the kids' stuff are darker fantasy elements, and the mixture is an odd one. There's a huge battle sequence at the end where there's some real bloodshed. Granted, so we don't know most of the victims as more than parts of the human/magical creature collective, but there are some named casualties: one of the three fairies gets turned into a flower by the humans' secret weapon, and that's never undone. Also, high stakes in a fantasy drama usually mean that a bit of effort will be put into the characterisation, so we care who lives and who dies. Not here: the characters are paper thin. Ingrith has a pretty interesting motive, but once she has stated it, nothing is done with it; we don't get Maleficent reacting to it in any way. Aurora and Philip are unfailingly bland. Robert Lindsay's acting talents are completely wasted in the part as Philip's peace-loving dad. Diaval the raven man is pretty sweet, though.
What puzzles me is who this film's intended audience is. Surely, the cutesiness of the CGI, the cheap jokes and the poor characterisation are off-putting to anyone over the age of eight. On the other hand, small children (and maybe even somewhat larger children) could be severely traumatised by scenes such as the one where the moor creatures are locked inside a chapel and have salvos of toxic magic dust fired at them from the chapel organ. So who's supposed to watch this, exactly? The answer may be, sadly, fairy-tale nerds like me who want something to complain about.
torsdag 23 april 2020
lördag 11 april 2020
Ranking the Pierce Brosnan Bond films
It's true I haven't rewatched the old Sean Connery and Roger Moore classics for a while, but I think I can say that Pierce Brosnan is my favourite Bond. I've admitted that I prefer Bond to be suave, and Brosnan has suavity in spades, but he also has more range as an actor than the (admittedly very enjoyable) Moore, and can show signs of crackling veneer when required. His poor Bond has to go through a lot during his four films. He's betrayed by someone he cared for (and thought dead); an ex-girlfriend who actually meant something to him is killed by her own husband; he has his chivalrous streak appealed to and taken advantage of; and finally, he is captured and tortured by the North Koreans - what's more, when he's released the MI5 want nothing to do with him as they're convinced he's squealed when in fact he's been keeping his mouth shut the whole time. By the time we reach The World Is Not Enough (and that's before we even get to the torture in Die Another Day) the strain is starting to show. I think Brosnan's Bond handles all that's thrown at him well, while keeping hold of his essential style whatever happens. It also helps to know that Bond was a part Brosnan really wanted to play - he was disappointed not to get it that time it went to Timothy Dalton because Brosnan was still tied up in his Remington Steele contract. I still don't know why they felt the need to "reboot" the franchise and go with Daniel Craig's craggy hard-man after Brosnan. Bond films haven't been the same since (though I did like Skyfall).
During my two weeks' mini-quarantine I rewatched all Brosnan's Bond films with the exception of The World Is Not Enough, which I'd already rewatched a year or so ago (maybe you can guess why). As a result, I've been able to come up with a highly personal ranking of them, which admittedly has little to do with Brosnan himself and more with how the other characters work for me:
1 Goldeneye The first and the best, it has that special Bond feel which (through no fault of his) was missing from Licence To Kill with Timothy Dalton. The villain twist actually works and gives the villain a half-decent motive for once. Izabella Scorupco is a somewhat shouty but classy Bond girl who manages to be competent without being superwoman. The supporting cast is top notch. We have the late German actor Gottfried John with his expressive countenance as Russian strong man Ourumov - his reaction to Bond crossing a room while taking cover behind a moving shelf filled with canisters of explosive gas is priceless. Famke Janssen is the handsome bad girl Xenia Onatopp who gets off on violence (her own), and then there's Boris, for whom I am prepared to forgive Alan Cumming a lot, including a campy James I in Doctor Who - he truly is invincible. Add to that a triumphant introduction of Judi Dench as the new M and Samatha Bond as Moneypenny, Robbie Coltrane as a fun Russian gangster and one of the best Bond theme songs, sung by none other that Tina Turner. The tank chase dragged a bit for me, though.
2 Die Another Day Most real Bond fans hate this film, and it's probably largely because of its poor reception that the regrettable "reboot" happened. But I think it's a hoot! I've never hankered for Bond films to be realistic. With extravagant ingredients such as an ice palace and a plastic surgeon that can change your ethnicity, you're propelled into a parallel world where it's easier to swallow plot points which would have seemed outrageous in a more realistic setting. Also, I think Toby Stephens does a really good job as the villain Gustav Graves - he plays the part straight, and I appreciate that. Halle Berry doesn't quite work as Bond girl Jinx - why did she kill that doctor, if she is simply an NSA agent? - but she's no disaster, and Rosamund Pike as the icy Miranda Frost is perfect. Yes, the dialogue could be better, the invisible car is a little silly (though it's never really bothered me) and M has to be a perfect fool not to realise who the mole in her organisation is. Nevertheless, this is a hugely enjoyable watch.
3 The World Is Not Enough What, only third place, in spite of Robert Carlyle playing the villain? The problem is, the bad guy in question is an international terrorist with a bullet lodged in his brain which will finally kill him and, as it eats itself in, cuts off his nerves so he doesn't feel pain. I know, ewww. The premise is yucky and even Carlyle has trouble carrying off the bullet-in-brain look. Also, it has to be said, he's not at the top of his villain game in this film, though he does nail a few lines, conveying the pain in "He was a good lover?" and the bitterness in "The world is yours - have fun with it". A waste.
It's still a good film though: Sophie Marceau walks away with it as the, as it turns out, ironically named Elektra. She is very attractive, and boy does she know it - happily, a certain pouting self-regard fits well with the character. Brosnan is convincingly and understandably frazzled, we see quite a lot of M, and Coltrane is back, which is nice. OK, so Denise Richards is not entirely convincing as nuclear scientist Dr Christmas Jones (in mini-shorts), but she's mainly there so that Bond can have someone to get together with at the end, and I did snigger at the Christmas joke.
4 Tomorrow Never Dies It is a truth universally acknowledged that any Bond film in possession of a villain must be in want of the very best talent villain-actordom has to offer - only to then squander it completely. Jonathan Pryce is another favourite actor of mine, and after a somewhat too scenery-chewing introduction he's very watchable as villainous media mogul Elliot Carver. However, even in a Bond context, it's near impossible to suspend disbelief regarding his motives. That Carver abuses his power in some ways - such as featuring stories of Mad Cow Disease so prominently because he is bribed by the French - I could readily believe. But media moguls, even the far from saintly ones, would not dream of starting wars just to boost sales. This is why villains who are military men, spies or criminals work rather better in Bond films - they have already been taught to disregard human life in a smaller context, so the leap is not as big for them when they branch out and threaten large parts of the world population. This is a plot which could have done with the outlandish settings of Die Another Day, but here, they're mostly unglamorous, though I did enjoy the few glimpses of Hamburg. Michelle Yeoh is a gutsy Chinese agent, but it's entirely unconvincing that she and Bond hook up at the end: they have no romantic spark whatsoever.
Also, I must admit, I'm not fond of Bond bedding the villain's girl at the best of times (though it's OK if it's part of the villain's plan). Here, Bond's ex-girlfriend Paris is married to Carver, and the film does its darnedest to convince us that her adultery is entirely forgivable: Carver seems to have a roving eye; he has his sights on Yeoh; plus, he later has his wife murdered without much compunction. Nevertheless, Paris climbing into bed with Bond fairly easily didn't sit well with me. The film has its highlights - Pryce doing his best, an enjoyable cameo from an expert in making murders look like accidents ("torture is more of a hobby") and well-known English character actors popping up in walk-on parts (is that Hugh Bonneville? And Pip Torrens?). Nevertheless, my overall impression of the film was that it was somewhat dull. Not, in this case, what the people wanted.
During my two weeks' mini-quarantine I rewatched all Brosnan's Bond films with the exception of The World Is Not Enough, which I'd already rewatched a year or so ago (maybe you can guess why). As a result, I've been able to come up with a highly personal ranking of them, which admittedly has little to do with Brosnan himself and more with how the other characters work for me:
1 Goldeneye The first and the best, it has that special Bond feel which (through no fault of his) was missing from Licence To Kill with Timothy Dalton. The villain twist actually works and gives the villain a half-decent motive for once. Izabella Scorupco is a somewhat shouty but classy Bond girl who manages to be competent without being superwoman. The supporting cast is top notch. We have the late German actor Gottfried John with his expressive countenance as Russian strong man Ourumov - his reaction to Bond crossing a room while taking cover behind a moving shelf filled with canisters of explosive gas is priceless. Famke Janssen is the handsome bad girl Xenia Onatopp who gets off on violence (her own), and then there's Boris, for whom I am prepared to forgive Alan Cumming a lot, including a campy James I in Doctor Who - he truly is invincible. Add to that a triumphant introduction of Judi Dench as the new M and Samatha Bond as Moneypenny, Robbie Coltrane as a fun Russian gangster and one of the best Bond theme songs, sung by none other that Tina Turner. The tank chase dragged a bit for me, though.
2 Die Another Day Most real Bond fans hate this film, and it's probably largely because of its poor reception that the regrettable "reboot" happened. But I think it's a hoot! I've never hankered for Bond films to be realistic. With extravagant ingredients such as an ice palace and a plastic surgeon that can change your ethnicity, you're propelled into a parallel world where it's easier to swallow plot points which would have seemed outrageous in a more realistic setting. Also, I think Toby Stephens does a really good job as the villain Gustav Graves - he plays the part straight, and I appreciate that. Halle Berry doesn't quite work as Bond girl Jinx - why did she kill that doctor, if she is simply an NSA agent? - but she's no disaster, and Rosamund Pike as the icy Miranda Frost is perfect. Yes, the dialogue could be better, the invisible car is a little silly (though it's never really bothered me) and M has to be a perfect fool not to realise who the mole in her organisation is. Nevertheless, this is a hugely enjoyable watch.
3 The World Is Not Enough What, only third place, in spite of Robert Carlyle playing the villain? The problem is, the bad guy in question is an international terrorist with a bullet lodged in his brain which will finally kill him and, as it eats itself in, cuts off his nerves so he doesn't feel pain. I know, ewww. The premise is yucky and even Carlyle has trouble carrying off the bullet-in-brain look. Also, it has to be said, he's not at the top of his villain game in this film, though he does nail a few lines, conveying the pain in "He was a good lover?" and the bitterness in "The world is yours - have fun with it". A waste.
It's still a good film though: Sophie Marceau walks away with it as the, as it turns out, ironically named Elektra. She is very attractive, and boy does she know it - happily, a certain pouting self-regard fits well with the character. Brosnan is convincingly and understandably frazzled, we see quite a lot of M, and Coltrane is back, which is nice. OK, so Denise Richards is not entirely convincing as nuclear scientist Dr Christmas Jones (in mini-shorts), but she's mainly there so that Bond can have someone to get together with at the end, and I did snigger at the Christmas joke.
4 Tomorrow Never Dies It is a truth universally acknowledged that any Bond film in possession of a villain must be in want of the very best talent villain-actordom has to offer - only to then squander it completely. Jonathan Pryce is another favourite actor of mine, and after a somewhat too scenery-chewing introduction he's very watchable as villainous media mogul Elliot Carver. However, even in a Bond context, it's near impossible to suspend disbelief regarding his motives. That Carver abuses his power in some ways - such as featuring stories of Mad Cow Disease so prominently because he is bribed by the French - I could readily believe. But media moguls, even the far from saintly ones, would not dream of starting wars just to boost sales. This is why villains who are military men, spies or criminals work rather better in Bond films - they have already been taught to disregard human life in a smaller context, so the leap is not as big for them when they branch out and threaten large parts of the world population. This is a plot which could have done with the outlandish settings of Die Another Day, but here, they're mostly unglamorous, though I did enjoy the few glimpses of Hamburg. Michelle Yeoh is a gutsy Chinese agent, but it's entirely unconvincing that she and Bond hook up at the end: they have no romantic spark whatsoever.
Also, I must admit, I'm not fond of Bond bedding the villain's girl at the best of times (though it's OK if it's part of the villain's plan). Here, Bond's ex-girlfriend Paris is married to Carver, and the film does its darnedest to convince us that her adultery is entirely forgivable: Carver seems to have a roving eye; he has his sights on Yeoh; plus, he later has his wife murdered without much compunction. Nevertheless, Paris climbing into bed with Bond fairly easily didn't sit well with me. The film has its highlights - Pryce doing his best, an enjoyable cameo from an expert in making murders look like accidents ("torture is more of a hobby") and well-known English character actors popping up in walk-on parts (is that Hugh Bonneville? And Pip Torrens?). Nevertheless, my overall impression of the film was that it was somewhat dull. Not, in this case, what the people wanted.
lördag 28 mars 2020
Why is it so hard to get Emma right?
There's really no excuse for not blogging in the circumstances, is there? On Monday, I'll hopefully be back at the office (that I would ever put "hopefully" in such a sentence), so I'd better get another blog post out there while I still have plenty of time.
The Swedish Film Institute has very sportingly released some films which were recently in cinemas online (though they're not exactly cheap), so I've been able to watch the latest adaptation of Jane Austen's Emma in the comfort of my home. And it was... fine. However, although it did some things better than the 1996 film with Gwyneth Paltrow, I don't think it adds an awful lot to the interpretation of my favourite Austen novel. The actors are good. I enjoyed Josh O'Connor's oily Mr Elton and Bill Nighy's Mr Woodhouse who, though thin enough to creditably think himself an invalid, clearly isn't. It's nice to see Rupert Graves, whose likeable Lestrade is a highlight of the Sherlock series, as an equally likeable Mr Weston, and Johnny Flynn, who was such a good Dobbin, does his best in the thankless role of Mr Knightley. Miranda Hart is an excellent, tender-hearted Miss Bates. But as for the angle from which the novel is approached, it's pretty much the same procedure as in every adaptation.
The film is beautiful to look at, but also stylised, and played as an elegant comedy which doesn't offer much insight into its characters, Emma least of all. From the very first scene, where she "picks" flowers for Miss Taylor at dusk - or rather, a servant picks the flowers she points out while another one holds up a lantern - it's clear that Emma will be portrayed as a spoilt brat. Within these parameters, Anya Taylor-Joy does a good job, and unlike most actresses who have played the role she is actually close to Emma's age. Nevertheless, we have seen this kind of Emma - a conceited little miss who gets her rightful come-uppance - many times before in Emma adaptations. We see little in this film of her more endearing qualities, such as her love for her father. Overall, we are given few "character moments" with Emma or with anyone else. There's a brief scene where Emma practises dancing with Harriet, which shows a glimpse of the real affection between the girls - the film would have benefited by having more moments like that. I also liked the scene where Mrs Goddard's school charges pass Mr Elton in the street, giggling excitedly. It shows some of the context for Elton's belief that he must be the object of any young lady's desire.
As always, the Box Hill incident feels overdone. Taylor-Joy delivers the insulting remark about Miss Bates perfectly - she blurts it out thoughtlessly and is instantly aware that she has said something she shouldn't - but the wording has been changed. Emma's line is less witty and more a case of unabashed rudeness, which makes one wonder why she would be tempted to say it in the first place. The hushed, shocked silence and clear disapproval of everyone present is not believable - the only ones likely to pick up on Emma's faux pas are Emma herself, Miss Bates and the always censorious Mr Knightley. I have to admit, though, that the post-Box Hill scene where Emma tries to make amends to Miss Bates is probably the best I've seen in any adaptation. Emma, here, is dumb-struck, merely handing over a basket of delicacies, but Miss Bates - who realises what she is trying to do - shows that she is forgiven by emphasising the words "but then you are always so very kind". It was the only time during the whole film that I felt truly moved, and shows up the dreadful handling of the Box Hill aftermath in the Paltrow film, where Miss Bates flees Emma's company, as if this good-natured woman were actually capable of holding a grudge.
Perhaps it's because I like the novel so much that I'm so hard to please when it comes to Emma adaptations. I found this one too superficial, but the TV adaptation with Romola Garai, which focused more on the drama and less on the comedy, too gloomy. Plus, I have been known to say that it's ridiculous to wish for a "dark" adaptation of an Austen novel, so what is it that I want?
What I would wish for is an adaptation which sympathises more with Emma. With time, I've come to appreciate the Davies adaptation of Emma more and more, though it's not such a classic as his Pride and Prejudice. The casting was good and the balance between comedy and drama was just about right. But even Davies admitted to hating the main character and playing up her fantasist tendencies in order to make her bearable. Her warmth and wit seem to have passed him by, and in the end Kate Beckinsale's Emma, though engaging, is very much in the spoiled-brat-vein. I despair of ever seeing an Emma adaptation by someone who loves the heroine as much as most of us - adapters included - love Elizabeth Bennet in Pride and Prejudice. Emma's faults are as offensive to modern-day moralists as to Regency ones, perhaps even more so, as they often stem from her feelings of social superiority. I must resign myself to never seeing the bossy, warm-hearted, intelligent girl I like so much in the novel rendered on the small or big screen with complete justice. At least it's a comfort that Austen was fond of her too.
The Swedish Film Institute has very sportingly released some films which were recently in cinemas online (though they're not exactly cheap), so I've been able to watch the latest adaptation of Jane Austen's Emma in the comfort of my home. And it was... fine. However, although it did some things better than the 1996 film with Gwyneth Paltrow, I don't think it adds an awful lot to the interpretation of my favourite Austen novel. The actors are good. I enjoyed Josh O'Connor's oily Mr Elton and Bill Nighy's Mr Woodhouse who, though thin enough to creditably think himself an invalid, clearly isn't. It's nice to see Rupert Graves, whose likeable Lestrade is a highlight of the Sherlock series, as an equally likeable Mr Weston, and Johnny Flynn, who was such a good Dobbin, does his best in the thankless role of Mr Knightley. Miranda Hart is an excellent, tender-hearted Miss Bates. But as for the angle from which the novel is approached, it's pretty much the same procedure as in every adaptation.
The film is beautiful to look at, but also stylised, and played as an elegant comedy which doesn't offer much insight into its characters, Emma least of all. From the very first scene, where she "picks" flowers for Miss Taylor at dusk - or rather, a servant picks the flowers she points out while another one holds up a lantern - it's clear that Emma will be portrayed as a spoilt brat. Within these parameters, Anya Taylor-Joy does a good job, and unlike most actresses who have played the role she is actually close to Emma's age. Nevertheless, we have seen this kind of Emma - a conceited little miss who gets her rightful come-uppance - many times before in Emma adaptations. We see little in this film of her more endearing qualities, such as her love for her father. Overall, we are given few "character moments" with Emma or with anyone else. There's a brief scene where Emma practises dancing with Harriet, which shows a glimpse of the real affection between the girls - the film would have benefited by having more moments like that. I also liked the scene where Mrs Goddard's school charges pass Mr Elton in the street, giggling excitedly. It shows some of the context for Elton's belief that he must be the object of any young lady's desire.
As always, the Box Hill incident feels overdone. Taylor-Joy delivers the insulting remark about Miss Bates perfectly - she blurts it out thoughtlessly and is instantly aware that she has said something she shouldn't - but the wording has been changed. Emma's line is less witty and more a case of unabashed rudeness, which makes one wonder why she would be tempted to say it in the first place. The hushed, shocked silence and clear disapproval of everyone present is not believable - the only ones likely to pick up on Emma's faux pas are Emma herself, Miss Bates and the always censorious Mr Knightley. I have to admit, though, that the post-Box Hill scene where Emma tries to make amends to Miss Bates is probably the best I've seen in any adaptation. Emma, here, is dumb-struck, merely handing over a basket of delicacies, but Miss Bates - who realises what she is trying to do - shows that she is forgiven by emphasising the words "but then you are always so very kind". It was the only time during the whole film that I felt truly moved, and shows up the dreadful handling of the Box Hill aftermath in the Paltrow film, where Miss Bates flees Emma's company, as if this good-natured woman were actually capable of holding a grudge.
Perhaps it's because I like the novel so much that I'm so hard to please when it comes to Emma adaptations. I found this one too superficial, but the TV adaptation with Romola Garai, which focused more on the drama and less on the comedy, too gloomy. Plus, I have been known to say that it's ridiculous to wish for a "dark" adaptation of an Austen novel, so what is it that I want?
What I would wish for is an adaptation which sympathises more with Emma. With time, I've come to appreciate the Davies adaptation of Emma more and more, though it's not such a classic as his Pride and Prejudice. The casting was good and the balance between comedy and drama was just about right. But even Davies admitted to hating the main character and playing up her fantasist tendencies in order to make her bearable. Her warmth and wit seem to have passed him by, and in the end Kate Beckinsale's Emma, though engaging, is very much in the spoiled-brat-vein. I despair of ever seeing an Emma adaptation by someone who loves the heroine as much as most of us - adapters included - love Elizabeth Bennet in Pride and Prejudice. Emma's faults are as offensive to modern-day moralists as to Regency ones, perhaps even more so, as they often stem from her feelings of social superiority. I must resign myself to never seeing the bossy, warm-hearted, intelligent girl I like so much in the novel rendered on the small or big screen with complete justice. At least it's a comfort that Austen was fond of her too.
lördag 21 mars 2020
The English Game - a half-hidden Fellowes-scripted half-gem
These are odd times we live in. On Monday, I had a cough and a slight ache in my lungs, which has resulted in me spending the whole week - barring a walk or two - in my flat, avoiding social contacts and watching TV. So, not that different to my usual routine, then, but with less work.
This means I can't complain about lack of blogging material. Putting aside the Maleficent sequel (bonkers) and the Pierce Brosnan Bond films (I do think he's my favourite Bond) for now, let's have a look at a recent Julian Fellowes-penned series. No, not Belgravia, sadly - though I read the book back when it was still an app, so I'm not too impatient - but The English Game.
I don't know if it's just my Netflix feed, but they don't seem to be promoting this series very hard, do they? My Swedish daily, which let me down when it came to Onward, made good by pointing out that this was on, otherwise I might have missed it. Perhaps it's because I mostly watch nerdy series and rom-coms on Netflix. Or else the algorithm thought, much as I myself did: "nah, this villain-ogling female knows zilch about football and cares less, it's probably not for her".
And to be sure, I wasn't too thrilled to hear Fellowes would be writing a miniseries (does it qualify as that? Six episodes?) about the beginnings of football when he should be spending his time finally finishing The Gilded Age. I have to say, though, I enjoyed this series more than I expected. Fellowes has had two co-writers, and they've all done a good job. However, although I'm guessing the writers have given themselves a great deal of poetic licence, reality does seem to come in the way of a good story once or twice.
The series takes place in 1879 England and focuses on two football virtuosos - Arthur Kinnaird, well-to-do captain of the aptly named team the Old Etonians, and Fergus Suter "the shooter", who along with his mate Jimmy Love has perfected the strategy of passing the ball in a neat fashion rather than charging with it from one part of the playing field to the other. Suter and Love have been hired by Walsh, a Northern mill owner, in order to boost his football team of mill hands, Darwen FC. Problem is, it's against the rules to pay football players, so if the gentlemen amateurs who rule the FA Cup committee want to make trouble, they can.
The first episode had me gripped - and, yes, even I was rooting for the mill workers. The series looked as if it was going to be a mix between North and South (Gaskell version, not Orry, George and the crazy villains) and The Four Minute Mile, with a bit of Chariots of Fire thrown in. I thought the story would be about the Old Etonians and Darwen FC competing for the cup - perhaps throughout a couple of years - while Kinnaird and Suter, at first hostile, come to respect each other more with time. And yes, the last bit happened. But halfway through the series, Suter abandons Darwen for Blackburn, another Northern working-class team that pays more. Yes, he needs to help his mother and sister who are brutalised by his father, so it's understandable, but this wasn't the drama I wanted to watch. What do I care about Blackburn, its envious captain and its somewhat wimpy owner Mr Cartwright, who isn't half as endearingly folksy as Walsh? I was invested in Darwen, hang it! I didn't want to see Suter's former team mates glowering at him for a whole episode or two. That's just painful to watch. Give me some thrilling matches!
But there, they can't tamper with history so much that the wrong teams meet up in the final, so we have to swallow that the Darwen folk come round and cheer on Blackburn anyway, because at least it's a Northern team and would be a victory for the workers etc. Hmmm. Not sure I buy it, but if it stops those glowering-at-Suter scenes, OK. At least the Darwen-Blackburn tensions, leading to a riot in a "friendship" game, set up the final argument, where the FA committee threatens to ban Blackburn from playing owing to unsportsmanlike behaviour and general rule-breaking.
One of the strengths of this series is that it takes the concerns of the Old Guard seriously. They're not just a bunch of over-privileged snobs seeking to oust honest working men (who are often better players, too) from "their" game. Arthur's friends are genuinely afraid of the consequences of allowing professional players. This is better explained than in The Four Minute Mile or Chariots of Fire, where as a viewer you just thought the obsession with "gentlemanliness" and amateurism barmy. If players are allowed to be paid, Arthur's pals argue, it would be possible for rich team owners to cherry-pick the best talent, leaving other teams with less money at a loss. Moreover, it would generate bad feeling leading to the kind of violence among fans witnessed at the Darwen-Blackburn game. It's hard to deny that much of what these gents feared has come to pass. Suter and co. have the better arguments and are clearly the future of football, but you do see where the toffs are coming from.
A girl in Class sneeringly referred to Downton Abbey as "white people being nice to each other". I sternly dismissed that remark - I mean, has she met Miss O'Brien? - but Fellowes at his best can set up scenarios where you understand both parties of a quarrel, and they can end up understanding each other too by listening to each other. There's also a refreshing feeling of getting right down to it when discussing some important issue, not hedging around for the sake of drama. Martha, Suter's girlfriend who was made pregnant by Cartwright a few years previously (they were in love, apparently, not just screwing around) is paid a visit by Mrs Cartwright (childless), who has just learned the truth. "She looks just like him", she says, gazing at Martha's daughter. "Like who?" Martha tries, but a look from Mrs Cartwright is enough for her to drop the pretence: "Yes, she does". It's not an easy path, and it doesn't happen right away, but the two women do end up "being nice to each other" in the end - and I, for one, am all for it.
Of villains in the Thomas mould there are none. I don't recall there being any particularly tasty villain in Belgravia either - the baddie was of the caddish persuasion, and I'm not too fond of those - so here's hoping The Gilded Age delivers. When it finally comes.
This means I can't complain about lack of blogging material. Putting aside the Maleficent sequel (bonkers) and the Pierce Brosnan Bond films (I do think he's my favourite Bond) for now, let's have a look at a recent Julian Fellowes-penned series. No, not Belgravia, sadly - though I read the book back when it was still an app, so I'm not too impatient - but The English Game.
I don't know if it's just my Netflix feed, but they don't seem to be promoting this series very hard, do they? My Swedish daily, which let me down when it came to Onward, made good by pointing out that this was on, otherwise I might have missed it. Perhaps it's because I mostly watch nerdy series and rom-coms on Netflix. Or else the algorithm thought, much as I myself did: "nah, this villain-ogling female knows zilch about football and cares less, it's probably not for her".
And to be sure, I wasn't too thrilled to hear Fellowes would be writing a miniseries (does it qualify as that? Six episodes?) about the beginnings of football when he should be spending his time finally finishing The Gilded Age. I have to say, though, I enjoyed this series more than I expected. Fellowes has had two co-writers, and they've all done a good job. However, although I'm guessing the writers have given themselves a great deal of poetic licence, reality does seem to come in the way of a good story once or twice.
The series takes place in 1879 England and focuses on two football virtuosos - Arthur Kinnaird, well-to-do captain of the aptly named team the Old Etonians, and Fergus Suter "the shooter", who along with his mate Jimmy Love has perfected the strategy of passing the ball in a neat fashion rather than charging with it from one part of the playing field to the other. Suter and Love have been hired by Walsh, a Northern mill owner, in order to boost his football team of mill hands, Darwen FC. Problem is, it's against the rules to pay football players, so if the gentlemen amateurs who rule the FA Cup committee want to make trouble, they can.
The first episode had me gripped - and, yes, even I was rooting for the mill workers. The series looked as if it was going to be a mix between North and South (Gaskell version, not Orry, George and the crazy villains) and The Four Minute Mile, with a bit of Chariots of Fire thrown in. I thought the story would be about the Old Etonians and Darwen FC competing for the cup - perhaps throughout a couple of years - while Kinnaird and Suter, at first hostile, come to respect each other more with time. And yes, the last bit happened. But halfway through the series, Suter abandons Darwen for Blackburn, another Northern working-class team that pays more. Yes, he needs to help his mother and sister who are brutalised by his father, so it's understandable, but this wasn't the drama I wanted to watch. What do I care about Blackburn, its envious captain and its somewhat wimpy owner Mr Cartwright, who isn't half as endearingly folksy as Walsh? I was invested in Darwen, hang it! I didn't want to see Suter's former team mates glowering at him for a whole episode or two. That's just painful to watch. Give me some thrilling matches!
But there, they can't tamper with history so much that the wrong teams meet up in the final, so we have to swallow that the Darwen folk come round and cheer on Blackburn anyway, because at least it's a Northern team and would be a victory for the workers etc. Hmmm. Not sure I buy it, but if it stops those glowering-at-Suter scenes, OK. At least the Darwen-Blackburn tensions, leading to a riot in a "friendship" game, set up the final argument, where the FA committee threatens to ban Blackburn from playing owing to unsportsmanlike behaviour and general rule-breaking.
One of the strengths of this series is that it takes the concerns of the Old Guard seriously. They're not just a bunch of over-privileged snobs seeking to oust honest working men (who are often better players, too) from "their" game. Arthur's friends are genuinely afraid of the consequences of allowing professional players. This is better explained than in The Four Minute Mile or Chariots of Fire, where as a viewer you just thought the obsession with "gentlemanliness" and amateurism barmy. If players are allowed to be paid, Arthur's pals argue, it would be possible for rich team owners to cherry-pick the best talent, leaving other teams with less money at a loss. Moreover, it would generate bad feeling leading to the kind of violence among fans witnessed at the Darwen-Blackburn game. It's hard to deny that much of what these gents feared has come to pass. Suter and co. have the better arguments and are clearly the future of football, but you do see where the toffs are coming from.
A girl in Class sneeringly referred to Downton Abbey as "white people being nice to each other". I sternly dismissed that remark - I mean, has she met Miss O'Brien? - but Fellowes at his best can set up scenarios where you understand both parties of a quarrel, and they can end up understanding each other too by listening to each other. There's also a refreshing feeling of getting right down to it when discussing some important issue, not hedging around for the sake of drama. Martha, Suter's girlfriend who was made pregnant by Cartwright a few years previously (they were in love, apparently, not just screwing around) is paid a visit by Mrs Cartwright (childless), who has just learned the truth. "She looks just like him", she says, gazing at Martha's daughter. "Like who?" Martha tries, but a look from Mrs Cartwright is enough for her to drop the pretence: "Yes, she does". It's not an easy path, and it doesn't happen right away, but the two women do end up "being nice to each other" in the end - and I, for one, am all for it.
Of villains in the Thomas mould there are none. I don't recall there being any particularly tasty villain in Belgravia either - the baddie was of the caddish persuasion, and I'm not too fond of those - so here's hoping The Gilded Age delivers. When it finally comes.
onsdag 11 mars 2020
Onward isn't perfect - but it's hard to dislike
Monday evening, feeling worn out and irritable, I nevertheless went to the cinema to see the latest Pixar film Onward. I left it in a far better frame of mind, moved and more kindly disposed towards my fellow men. For me, then, the film was a success. And yet... I understand the general feeling I'm getting from reviews, that Onward is better than one would have expected from the trailers but not quite as good as we all hoped a Pixar film with original content (as opposed to "just another sequel") would be.
I had a lot of time for the central relationship between two brothers, and loved the scene towards the end where Ian - the younger brother who's grown up without his father - realises just how much his older brother Barley has meant to him throughout his life. That was the part that made me tear up, and the reviewers I've seen (mostly on Youtube, to be honest - my daily didn't deign to review the film) liked it too. However, while some of them thought that this strong emotional core of the film was enough to make it good, others didn't. And I can see where they're coming from, which is why it's so hard to come to a clear-cut conclusion about the film. Has Pixar chosen the right path in their quest for a solid future as one of the star brands of animated film, or have they strayed a too far down the Path of Peril - or rather a little too far along the safe, unadventurous freeway?
One problem with the film is that the world it's set in doesn't feel as fresh and original as was perhaps intended. Basically, it's a land full of creatures from folklore and fantasy where technology has replaced magic, so they live lives practically identical to us humans in the modern-day world. Cue the gags from the trailer where mermaids lounge in paddling pools, garden gnomes do actual gardening - including using a lawn-mower - unicorns are down-at-heel critters fighting like raccoons over people's trash and trolls collect the toll for the freeway going over the bridge. Though I did like that last joke, the main conceit is not very engaging. Most humorous use of fantasy tropes relies on contrasting the inherent pomposity of the genre with everyday life, and it has been done in funnier ways than here. That's another of the film's problems - few of its jokes actually land. Though it's light-hearted, it's not one of the funnier Pixar films.
The main story goes as follows: the two elf brothers Ian and Barley grow up with their mother, the father having died early, when Barley was still small and before Ian was born. Ian is the insecure, brainy but slightly whiny high-school kid who wants to fit in but doesn't know how etc. Big brother Barley is obsessed with the old days of magic and with a roleplay game that purports to be based on "historical facts" (those in the know identify it as very similar indeed to Dungeons and Dragons). He is cheerfully chaotic and embarrasses his little brother with his fantasies and gung-ho attitude. On Ian's 16th birthday, it's revealed that their dad left a magic staff and a spell that would bring him back to life for 24 hours. Though Barley is the magic enthusiast, it's Ian who has the magic talent, but he only manages to bring back the dad's legs before the staff breaks. The brothers have to repair it with "the Phoenix stone" before the 24 hours are done so they can meet their dad. The legs have to go along on the ride. As Barley put it in the trailer, "totally a quest".
I can nit-pick other things in the film that didn't quite work for me, along with the fantasy-figures-in-modern-day set-up and the lack of good jokes. The build-up feels too long - I was reminded of Moana/Vaiana, which I've watched three times now, each time drumming my fingers until finally Maui turns up. Also, though having the dad's legs tag along makes for a touching moment or two, one joke where I actually laughed and a way to get out of a trap, for the most part they just feel superfluous and weird. Nevertheless, I was charmed, mostly because I really liked Barley. As a fellow fantasist, I sympathised with him, and what clinched it for me was his unfeigned joy over the fact that his little brother has the magic gift. This lack of envy makes up for a lot, including a few moments where you feel he's not taking their quest quite seriously enough.
Another thing in the film's favour, for my part, was that it didn't ride its messages too hard. I've had problems with Pixar's messages in the past, not least the ones in the Toy Story franchise. Here, the film came perilously close to the "technology is bad" agenda Pixar's been hinting at a few times before. It's funny to see magic, often depicted in fiction as the solution which appears easy but can come with unforeseen costs, hailed as a craft which requires skill and dedication and leads to greater self-knowledge, whereas technology is the quick fix. Nevertheless, in the end, the fantasy creatures don't go back to roving in the wild and relying blindly on mages. They continue their comfortable modern lives - they're just a little bit more true to their pixie/centaur/manticore selves and view magic as a welcome bonus. Which is fair enough.
To sum up, Onward may not be a classic, but as one who has always admired rather than loved Pixar's films, I'm fine with that. It's sweet, extremely family-friendly and, contrary to some rumours, really not excessively "woke" at all. If I'm half as pleased with Pixar's next offering Soul, I'll consider myself lucky. Still no villain, though.
I had a lot of time for the central relationship between two brothers, and loved the scene towards the end where Ian - the younger brother who's grown up without his father - realises just how much his older brother Barley has meant to him throughout his life. That was the part that made me tear up, and the reviewers I've seen (mostly on Youtube, to be honest - my daily didn't deign to review the film) liked it too. However, while some of them thought that this strong emotional core of the film was enough to make it good, others didn't. And I can see where they're coming from, which is why it's so hard to come to a clear-cut conclusion about the film. Has Pixar chosen the right path in their quest for a solid future as one of the star brands of animated film, or have they strayed a too far down the Path of Peril - or rather a little too far along the safe, unadventurous freeway?
One problem with the film is that the world it's set in doesn't feel as fresh and original as was perhaps intended. Basically, it's a land full of creatures from folklore and fantasy where technology has replaced magic, so they live lives practically identical to us humans in the modern-day world. Cue the gags from the trailer where mermaids lounge in paddling pools, garden gnomes do actual gardening - including using a lawn-mower - unicorns are down-at-heel critters fighting like raccoons over people's trash and trolls collect the toll for the freeway going over the bridge. Though I did like that last joke, the main conceit is not very engaging. Most humorous use of fantasy tropes relies on contrasting the inherent pomposity of the genre with everyday life, and it has been done in funnier ways than here. That's another of the film's problems - few of its jokes actually land. Though it's light-hearted, it's not one of the funnier Pixar films.
The main story goes as follows: the two elf brothers Ian and Barley grow up with their mother, the father having died early, when Barley was still small and before Ian was born. Ian is the insecure, brainy but slightly whiny high-school kid who wants to fit in but doesn't know how etc. Big brother Barley is obsessed with the old days of magic and with a roleplay game that purports to be based on "historical facts" (those in the know identify it as very similar indeed to Dungeons and Dragons). He is cheerfully chaotic and embarrasses his little brother with his fantasies and gung-ho attitude. On Ian's 16th birthday, it's revealed that their dad left a magic staff and a spell that would bring him back to life for 24 hours. Though Barley is the magic enthusiast, it's Ian who has the magic talent, but he only manages to bring back the dad's legs before the staff breaks. The brothers have to repair it with "the Phoenix stone" before the 24 hours are done so they can meet their dad. The legs have to go along on the ride. As Barley put it in the trailer, "totally a quest".
I can nit-pick other things in the film that didn't quite work for me, along with the fantasy-figures-in-modern-day set-up and the lack of good jokes. The build-up feels too long - I was reminded of Moana/Vaiana, which I've watched three times now, each time drumming my fingers until finally Maui turns up. Also, though having the dad's legs tag along makes for a touching moment or two, one joke where I actually laughed and a way to get out of a trap, for the most part they just feel superfluous and weird. Nevertheless, I was charmed, mostly because I really liked Barley. As a fellow fantasist, I sympathised with him, and what clinched it for me was his unfeigned joy over the fact that his little brother has the magic gift. This lack of envy makes up for a lot, including a few moments where you feel he's not taking their quest quite seriously enough.
Another thing in the film's favour, for my part, was that it didn't ride its messages too hard. I've had problems with Pixar's messages in the past, not least the ones in the Toy Story franchise. Here, the film came perilously close to the "technology is bad" agenda Pixar's been hinting at a few times before. It's funny to see magic, often depicted in fiction as the solution which appears easy but can come with unforeseen costs, hailed as a craft which requires skill and dedication and leads to greater self-knowledge, whereas technology is the quick fix. Nevertheless, in the end, the fantasy creatures don't go back to roving in the wild and relying blindly on mages. They continue their comfortable modern lives - they're just a little bit more true to their pixie/centaur/manticore selves and view magic as a welcome bonus. Which is fair enough.
To sum up, Onward may not be a classic, but as one who has always admired rather than loved Pixar's films, I'm fine with that. It's sweet, extremely family-friendly and, contrary to some rumours, really not excessively "woke" at all. If I'm half as pleased with Pixar's next offering Soul, I'll consider myself lucky. Still no villain, though.
torsdag 27 februari 2020
Making it past chapter one
I've not had much luck with my reading of late. Books have been laid aside or abandoned altogether after a few pages after failing to engage me. Sometimes I've willed myself to continue: novels where you've read the first chapter without getting hooked are less likely to be picked up again than completely unread novels, and having too many of the first category lying around is depressing. So I did, for instance, manage to finish another book in the fairy-tale-inspired fantasy genre, although it was too slow-moving for me, in spite of goblins being present. One book where perseverance paid off, though, was The Word is Murder by Anthony Horowitz.
I usually enjoy Horowitz's writing, whether in crime novel or TV screenplay form. I really liked the TV series Foyle's War, and the crime novels The House of Silk, Moriarty and Magpie Murders all proved good reads. Thus, I bought The Word is Murder, regarding it as a sure thing. The first chapter failed to spark my interest, however. With hindsight, I can see why it was laid out the way it was, but at the time it only looked like an overlong scene-setting for one of the key elements of the murder mystery: a woman arranges the details surrounding her own funeral, and is killed later the same day.
Things brighten up, however, when we're introduced to our crime-solving duo: ex-policeman turned freelance Daniel Hawthorne, and... the author himself. The novel's conceit is that it's supposed to describe an investigation that really happened: Anthony Horowitz agrees to follow Hawthorne around and then write about his solving of a murder case, and then they split the profits. At first very much against the idea, Anthony (as I will call the character, as opposed to Horowitz the author) finally agrees to this plan for various reasons and becomes the Watson to Hawthorne's Holmes - not that Hawthorne has much in common with Holmes apart from an uncanny power of observation.
It's usually tricky for authors to insert themselves in their own work, and other examples from the world of crime fiction are not encouraging. Sweden's own 20th-century Queen of Crime, Maria Lang, created an author character called Almi Graan (an anagram of her pen name), who first started to appear in Lang's popular whodunnits in the Sixties. The problem is that Almi Graan's first appearances coincide with the decline of quality in Lang's books, and she is not as easy to like as was perhaps the intention. Agatha Christie's Ariadne Oliver, though good fun, isn't an unqualified success either: she adds little to the plots and is something of a self-indulgence on the author's part.
I thought Anthony Horowitz the character works well, though, as he is treated pretty mercilessly by Anthony Horowitz the author. The whole "this is a true crime" conceit can be a bit grating, with coquettish asides from the author bemoaning the fact that he doesn't have control of his material and would have written the whole thing up differently if it was all fiction. But it is all fiction, and the murder has enough fantastical elements - like the dramatic conclusion of the case - not to resemble "true crime" in the least. However, it's worth going along with it all for the sake of having Anthony as a Watson figure: not a complete clown, but pretty clueless compared to Hawthorne, whom he doesn't much like. For my part, I enjoyed the uningratiating Hawthorne and his dynamic with his author assistant. Anthony thinks that he needs to include colourful details about Hawthorne's character and private life in order for the book to sell, and tries to pump him, but Hawthorne is having none of it: the murder's the thing. On the other hand, one gets the feeling that Hawthorne likes Anthony rather better than the other way around. This looks like a crime novel series worth sticking with. Incidentally, another thing that warms me towards Hawthorne is that he didn't like the first chapter of Anthony's book.
Another crime novel where I had problems with the beginning chapter was Booked for Murder by Val McDermid, or V.L. McDermid as she signed herself for this book. It starts ostensibly from the point of view of a female hit-man (hit-woman?), but you can see there's a twist coming. I was glad when the story proper started, but all in all I got on considerably less well with this crime story compared to The Word is Murder. To be fair, this is an old novel of McDermid's, published in the Nineties, and is probably not one of her more ambitious works. Still, my goal was to try out McDermid, and as I wasn't that impressed, I'll probably be giving her Tony Hill books etc. a miss. The crime solver in Booked for Murder is Lindsay Gordon, a Scottish lesbian ex-journalist with a working-class background. Which doesn't have to mean she's chippy, but... she is. Or perhaps opinionated would be a better word. I didn't really warm to her, and the fact that her all-female circle of friends all share her views didn't make things better. The murder victim is killed in a flat in Islington, and I don't think it's wrong to say that the book's outlook overall is very Islington. Although the murder motive was pretty much impossible for the reader to figure out beforehand, I had no problem guessing who the murderer would turn out to be.
I'll say this much for Booked for Murder, though: it's an easy read, and what with all the reasonably sparky dialogue, it's a good distraction on the bus or if, like me at the moment, one is nursing an aching jaw. If Islington is your spiritual home, you may very well enjoy it.
I usually enjoy Horowitz's writing, whether in crime novel or TV screenplay form. I really liked the TV series Foyle's War, and the crime novels The House of Silk, Moriarty and Magpie Murders all proved good reads. Thus, I bought The Word is Murder, regarding it as a sure thing. The first chapter failed to spark my interest, however. With hindsight, I can see why it was laid out the way it was, but at the time it only looked like an overlong scene-setting for one of the key elements of the murder mystery: a woman arranges the details surrounding her own funeral, and is killed later the same day.
Things brighten up, however, when we're introduced to our crime-solving duo: ex-policeman turned freelance Daniel Hawthorne, and... the author himself. The novel's conceit is that it's supposed to describe an investigation that really happened: Anthony Horowitz agrees to follow Hawthorne around and then write about his solving of a murder case, and then they split the profits. At first very much against the idea, Anthony (as I will call the character, as opposed to Horowitz the author) finally agrees to this plan for various reasons and becomes the Watson to Hawthorne's Holmes - not that Hawthorne has much in common with Holmes apart from an uncanny power of observation.
It's usually tricky for authors to insert themselves in their own work, and other examples from the world of crime fiction are not encouraging. Sweden's own 20th-century Queen of Crime, Maria Lang, created an author character called Almi Graan (an anagram of her pen name), who first started to appear in Lang's popular whodunnits in the Sixties. The problem is that Almi Graan's first appearances coincide with the decline of quality in Lang's books, and she is not as easy to like as was perhaps the intention. Agatha Christie's Ariadne Oliver, though good fun, isn't an unqualified success either: she adds little to the plots and is something of a self-indulgence on the author's part.
I thought Anthony Horowitz the character works well, though, as he is treated pretty mercilessly by Anthony Horowitz the author. The whole "this is a true crime" conceit can be a bit grating, with coquettish asides from the author bemoaning the fact that he doesn't have control of his material and would have written the whole thing up differently if it was all fiction. But it is all fiction, and the murder has enough fantastical elements - like the dramatic conclusion of the case - not to resemble "true crime" in the least. However, it's worth going along with it all for the sake of having Anthony as a Watson figure: not a complete clown, but pretty clueless compared to Hawthorne, whom he doesn't much like. For my part, I enjoyed the uningratiating Hawthorne and his dynamic with his author assistant. Anthony thinks that he needs to include colourful details about Hawthorne's character and private life in order for the book to sell, and tries to pump him, but Hawthorne is having none of it: the murder's the thing. On the other hand, one gets the feeling that Hawthorne likes Anthony rather better than the other way around. This looks like a crime novel series worth sticking with. Incidentally, another thing that warms me towards Hawthorne is that he didn't like the first chapter of Anthony's book.
Another crime novel where I had problems with the beginning chapter was Booked for Murder by Val McDermid, or V.L. McDermid as she signed herself for this book. It starts ostensibly from the point of view of a female hit-man (hit-woman?), but you can see there's a twist coming. I was glad when the story proper started, but all in all I got on considerably less well with this crime story compared to The Word is Murder. To be fair, this is an old novel of McDermid's, published in the Nineties, and is probably not one of her more ambitious works. Still, my goal was to try out McDermid, and as I wasn't that impressed, I'll probably be giving her Tony Hill books etc. a miss. The crime solver in Booked for Murder is Lindsay Gordon, a Scottish lesbian ex-journalist with a working-class background. Which doesn't have to mean she's chippy, but... she is. Or perhaps opinionated would be a better word. I didn't really warm to her, and the fact that her all-female circle of friends all share her views didn't make things better. The murder victim is killed in a flat in Islington, and I don't think it's wrong to say that the book's outlook overall is very Islington. Although the murder motive was pretty much impossible for the reader to figure out beforehand, I had no problem guessing who the murderer would turn out to be.
I'll say this much for Booked for Murder, though: it's an easy read, and what with all the reasonably sparky dialogue, it's a good distraction on the bus or if, like me at the moment, one is nursing an aching jaw. If Islington is your spiritual home, you may very well enjoy it.
onsdag 12 februari 2020
Pleasant audiobook distractions
Ugh - while I had a run of benevolent posts at the end of 2019, I suspect 2020 will be the year when I complain a lot and will actually have to move into contentious territory, though I really don't wanna. Not yet, though. Let's have a nice, unprovocative theme for this week's post. Like, erm, audiobooks?
I've never really been into audiobooks until the last months, because I always preferred actually reading the books, and I still do. Belatedly, though, I've discovered the perfect use for an audiobook: as a means of taking your mind off the fact that you're doing something mind-numbingly boring. Earlier, I've tried music as a boredom-reliever, and in some situations - like simple working tasks that still require some attention - it's still the best remedy. But when it comes to, say, domestic chores, music leaves too much room in my brain to reflect on how dull the chore in question is and how much I would rather be doing something else. If I'm very lucky and find an audiobook I really enjoy, on the other hand, the opportunity to listen to it partly makes up for the dreariness of doing the washing, packing my lunch, unpacking supermarket bags or cleaning the kitchen. The first audiobook I tried - River Road - helped me get through a four-hour train journey when the novel I'd brought failed to thrill.
The service I use is Audible, which has its advantages and disadvantages. The selection of books on offer is outstanding, but it's pretty pricey. I thought that the monthly subscription would give me access to the audiobooks on offer for free, but no such luck. You get a couple of free ones at the start, then one free book per month, but that's it: the rest you have to buy, and they're not cheap. I'll think I'll stick with it, though: I can work the app now, and it's nice to have so much to choose from. Here are some of the audios I've found so far:
River Road by Carol Goodman: Carol Goodman is the perfect autumn read, and most enjoyable in traditional book form. The settings, which are often academic and/or connected to creative writing, like a school teaching the Fine Arts or a writers' colony, have a high cosiness factor, and Goodman's use of myths and folklore appeals greatly to my inner librarian. On the down side, her heroines - often pretty opinionated - can annoy me, and the payoff of a nicely set up story is not always satisfying. The earliest books - The Lake Of Dead Languages and The Seduction Of Water - had wonderful atmosphere, and I loved the fairy-tale theme in The Seduction Of Water. But there are really no prizes for guessing who the main villain is in either of these novels. Later novels like The Other Mother and The Night Visitors are less easily guessable, but also less cosy and less full of "gosh, I know this myth/fairy-tale - aren't I learned" moments.
River Road was a novel I didn't get hold of in book form, so I was glad to find the audio version. It's in between the early, bookish but a bit predictable Goodman novels and the grittier later ones. Though not Goodman's best, it still has an enjoyable atmosphere - the protagonist Nan teaches creative writing at a college, which is the kind of job you have if you're a Goodman heroine - and as she has had some hard knocks in her life, like losing her small daughter in a car accident (why are writers so obsessed with kids who die or go missing?), I may actually have appreciated this story more as an easily digestible audiobook than if I'd pored over the pages of the actual novel.
Blythewood, also by Carol Goodman: This teen fantasy story was a disappointment. I'd have thought someone well-read like Goodman would be able to come up with a fantasy world enriched by classic myths and fairy-tales, but this was pretty generic stuff. The teenage heroine's love interest is a beautiful boy with wings, and the main villain is a creature of smoke and shadows - nothing particularly new there, and the magic school setup feels pretty done by now. I don't think I'll bother with the sequel; swooning over winged, misunderstood male beauties just isn't my thing.
Evil Under The Sun by Agatha Christie: One way to make sure you don't lose the thread of an audiobook's narrative is to listen to a book you've already read. This was read with relish by David Suchet, who did all the voices, not just Poirot's. If you stick with it through the somewhat slow start - Mrs Gardiner's monologues can be a bit much in this format - this is good fun, ideal for sorting and archiving documents to.
Peter Pan by J.M. Barrie: What, again? Well, this was one of the freebies on offer at the start of my subscription, and I thought it would be a good opportunity to familiarise myself with the play as opposed to the book. It wasn't made clear, though, how close this adaptation actually was to the play, and apart from some obvious liberties taken with the source material - the Darling household scenes are set during the Blitz; Tiger Lily leads a gang of "Lost Girls", so not for the first time in the history of Peter Pan adaptations her poor tribe is shafted and written out of the story altogether; Hook flirts outrageously with the devoted Smee - the story follows the one in Peter and Wendy very closely indeed. I'm not sure I'm much the wiser. It was a nice, light-hearted listen, though. Rupert Everett's Hook is the campest pirate who ever yo-ho-hoed on the seven seas, which is something of a pity - even the Disney version is a wonder of dignity and menace in comparison - but he draws the odd chuckle. Adeel Akhtar is sweet as Smee (the polar opposite of his Thénardier) and the kids are convincing.
The Two Destinies by Wilkie Collins: OK, I'm not going to lie: about one hour in, this story is still rather soporific, even if it is read by the admirable Sam West. I'm a huge fan of Collins, but he can be long-winded in his explanations, and perhaps he's not ideal audiobook material. Anyway, I couldn't resist getting nine hours listening time as my free book of the month (a Christie would only have offered six hours). It remains to be seen if my greed has deceived me - nine hours are no good if I'm to give up after three. But sometimes Collins is a late starter, so there's still hope.
I've never really been into audiobooks until the last months, because I always preferred actually reading the books, and I still do. Belatedly, though, I've discovered the perfect use for an audiobook: as a means of taking your mind off the fact that you're doing something mind-numbingly boring. Earlier, I've tried music as a boredom-reliever, and in some situations - like simple working tasks that still require some attention - it's still the best remedy. But when it comes to, say, domestic chores, music leaves too much room in my brain to reflect on how dull the chore in question is and how much I would rather be doing something else. If I'm very lucky and find an audiobook I really enjoy, on the other hand, the opportunity to listen to it partly makes up for the dreariness of doing the washing, packing my lunch, unpacking supermarket bags or cleaning the kitchen. The first audiobook I tried - River Road - helped me get through a four-hour train journey when the novel I'd brought failed to thrill.
The service I use is Audible, which has its advantages and disadvantages. The selection of books on offer is outstanding, but it's pretty pricey. I thought that the monthly subscription would give me access to the audiobooks on offer for free, but no such luck. You get a couple of free ones at the start, then one free book per month, but that's it: the rest you have to buy, and they're not cheap. I'll think I'll stick with it, though: I can work the app now, and it's nice to have so much to choose from. Here are some of the audios I've found so far:
River Road by Carol Goodman: Carol Goodman is the perfect autumn read, and most enjoyable in traditional book form. The settings, which are often academic and/or connected to creative writing, like a school teaching the Fine Arts or a writers' colony, have a high cosiness factor, and Goodman's use of myths and folklore appeals greatly to my inner librarian. On the down side, her heroines - often pretty opinionated - can annoy me, and the payoff of a nicely set up story is not always satisfying. The earliest books - The Lake Of Dead Languages and The Seduction Of Water - had wonderful atmosphere, and I loved the fairy-tale theme in The Seduction Of Water. But there are really no prizes for guessing who the main villain is in either of these novels. Later novels like The Other Mother and The Night Visitors are less easily guessable, but also less cosy and less full of "gosh, I know this myth/fairy-tale - aren't I learned" moments.
River Road was a novel I didn't get hold of in book form, so I was glad to find the audio version. It's in between the early, bookish but a bit predictable Goodman novels and the grittier later ones. Though not Goodman's best, it still has an enjoyable atmosphere - the protagonist Nan teaches creative writing at a college, which is the kind of job you have if you're a Goodman heroine - and as she has had some hard knocks in her life, like losing her small daughter in a car accident (why are writers so obsessed with kids who die or go missing?), I may actually have appreciated this story more as an easily digestible audiobook than if I'd pored over the pages of the actual novel.
Blythewood, also by Carol Goodman: This teen fantasy story was a disappointment. I'd have thought someone well-read like Goodman would be able to come up with a fantasy world enriched by classic myths and fairy-tales, but this was pretty generic stuff. The teenage heroine's love interest is a beautiful boy with wings, and the main villain is a creature of smoke and shadows - nothing particularly new there, and the magic school setup feels pretty done by now. I don't think I'll bother with the sequel; swooning over winged, misunderstood male beauties just isn't my thing.
Evil Under The Sun by Agatha Christie: One way to make sure you don't lose the thread of an audiobook's narrative is to listen to a book you've already read. This was read with relish by David Suchet, who did all the voices, not just Poirot's. If you stick with it through the somewhat slow start - Mrs Gardiner's monologues can be a bit much in this format - this is good fun, ideal for sorting and archiving documents to.
Peter Pan by J.M. Barrie: What, again? Well, this was one of the freebies on offer at the start of my subscription, and I thought it would be a good opportunity to familiarise myself with the play as opposed to the book. It wasn't made clear, though, how close this adaptation actually was to the play, and apart from some obvious liberties taken with the source material - the Darling household scenes are set during the Blitz; Tiger Lily leads a gang of "Lost Girls", so not for the first time in the history of Peter Pan adaptations her poor tribe is shafted and written out of the story altogether; Hook flirts outrageously with the devoted Smee - the story follows the one in Peter and Wendy very closely indeed. I'm not sure I'm much the wiser. It was a nice, light-hearted listen, though. Rupert Everett's Hook is the campest pirate who ever yo-ho-hoed on the seven seas, which is something of a pity - even the Disney version is a wonder of dignity and menace in comparison - but he draws the odd chuckle. Adeel Akhtar is sweet as Smee (the polar opposite of his Thénardier) and the kids are convincing.
The Two Destinies by Wilkie Collins: OK, I'm not going to lie: about one hour in, this story is still rather soporific, even if it is read by the admirable Sam West. I'm a huge fan of Collins, but he can be long-winded in his explanations, and perhaps he's not ideal audiobook material. Anyway, I couldn't resist getting nine hours listening time as my free book of the month (a Christie would only have offered six hours). It remains to be seen if my greed has deceived me - nine hours are no good if I'm to give up after three. But sometimes Collins is a late starter, so there's still hope.
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