The Devil Rides Out (1968)

 "In magic, there is neither good nor evil."

It's been many years since I've seen this film, certainly a decade and a bit. I well remember being impressed with it, and this viewing has cemented its excellence for me. This is, without a doubt, the finest Hammer film I've seen, and the finest performance I’ve ever seen from a compellingly charismatic Christopher Lee. On the strength of this performance is staggering that he wasn’t asked do play more parts as the hero protagonist. He radiates authority and steadfastness as few actors can.

It’s not just the excellence of its leading man that elevates this film to greatness, though. For one thing Richard Matheson’s superb script, full of incident and tension and using up all the best occult tropes such as the chalk circle and sacrifice, adapts Dennis Wheatley’s novel superbly. I’ve never read any Wheatley and may never do so- occult-themed pulp fiction is not really my thing- but it’s clear that he’s a little vague in his definition of Satanism, conflating it with the worship of pagan deities and “magic” as it would presumably be understood by Aleister Crowley or, indeed, Alan Moore, and combining ritual with the kind of orgies that would be a nightmare for we introverts. But it certainly makes for a first class suspense-based horror film. And Charles Gray is a wonderfully urbane baddie.

More than that, though, this is Terence Fisher’s claim to greatness. Everything about the way this film is shot is magnificent- taut, terrifying, and deadly serious. This film shows him- and Hammer- to be capable of far more than the cheesiness for which we know them. A truly outstanding gem of a film.

Doctor Who: Fury from the Deep (Revisited) Episodes Four, Five and Six

 Episode Four

"Why can't we go anywhere normal, where there's no fighting?"

It's nice how the groundwork is already being laid for Victoria's departure- it's all very '60s, very reserved, but there's some top characterisation in Victor Pemberton's script. But what's different about the animated version is the visuals- the scene in which the Weed gets Van Lutyens is, I very much suspect, far more visually impressive than in the now long-wiped original.

The scenes in the pipe with the Doctor and Jamie more closely mirror the surviving clips, but the tension remains, and the narrative continues to be both masterful and bloody terrifying while balancing plot and character. This is how you do a six parter. The arrival of Megan Jones, the big boss, doesn't waste too much time with tiresome suspiction. And, right on cue, the ending raises the stakes.

Episode Five

"It's beginning to give me the willies..."

The Doctor, with Robson having seemingly broken down, is in charge and finally listened to, while Megan tells the distraught Robson to "pull yourself together". attitudes to mental health in 1968 were, shall we say, not quite the same as nowadays, much like management styles.

However, we soon move to kidnappings, helicopters and the sight of a Weed-infested oil rig that, I suspect, looks far more impressive than it did originally. Similarly impressive looking are the possessed characters, led by Robson, who are part-Weed in a way which surely can't have been done originally.

Episode Six

"You don't want to come with us, do you, Victoria?"

It's all wrapped up, rather quickly, as the Doctor conjures up a Macguffin. Yet is doesn't feel like a cop-out, with the sense of desperation persisting to the end and a real sense of a race against time. The use of Victoria's screams is, of course, very meta, but it's all played in such a way as not to refer to the fourth wall. And, animated, it all looks superb.

And yet a huge amount of screen time is left over for Victoria's departure. It's all very stiff-upper-lip, the emotions are repressed, but they're all there, in a slightly Terence Rattigan sort of way. It's nice to see the TARDISeers stay for an evening meal, though, with even Robson being comparatively friendly. So much so that we almost don't stop to question wny the Harrises would adopt a semi-permanent house guest, and extra mouth to feed, without even knowing Victoria that well. 

Overall, though, this is a perfectly crafted animation that confirms Fury from the Deep to be a superbly paced story, utterly terrifying, and with subtly excellent characterisation. It stands revealed as a fascinating artifact, full of anxiety about all this new-fangled North Sea oil, soon to be powering the nation's homes and workplaces and, perhaps, an anxiety about modernity itself.

Doctor Who: Fury from the Deep (Revisited) Episodes One, Two and Three

 I am, of course, quite blatantly blogging it because the lovely Mrs Llamastrangler (with the equally lovely Little Miss Llamastrangler) bought it for me as a Christmas present. So it’s a somewhat out-of-sequence reminder that this blog originally existed so that I (alongside a bunch of other people on Gallifrey Base) could marathon ALL of Doctor Who, which we (and I) did. If you look at the Doctor Who index on this blog, it’s all there. 

However, whenever missing episodes are discovered (hooray) or animated (necessarily much smaller but nevertheless heartfelt cheer), I’ll blog them as I see them. This is a particularly exciting example.

Episode One

"Aye, and it’s always England...”

It’s a facile comment for me to always make in such circumstances, perhaps, but seeing a story animated, and with subtitles, makes it easier to follow, by orders of magnitude, than any recon could possibly be. That makes a huge difference to how I’m following the plot.

There’s another difference, though- this time I’m not watching this story in its chronological place, so I’m not watching my fourth (out of five) base under siege stories, with Robson as the latest (and most unreasonable) unstable base commander. I’m less frustrated this time round that the TARDIS crew so quickly come under suspicion and get locked up immediately, probably because I’m less cynical about seeing this thing all the bloody time. 

Also, the opening scene on the beach is far more fun with moving pictures, a bit of light relief to start off a story without much light in it. And the plot moves rather quickly. Robson is, indeed, unreasonable, but he’s not too far removed from a type of work colleague we’ve all met who insists that his experience is far more valuable than any of the fancy theories of the university educated young. It’s odd to see this type of person in charge, of course.

It’s also odd to see the sonic screwdriver in its first ever use- to unscrew some screws, with absolutely no indication that it does any more than that.

Episode Two

"It’s down there. In the darkness. In the pipeline. Waiting.”

In some ways the animation doesn’t really change things. Robson is perhaps a little more nuanced, but it’s the same story- and Victoria resolving the cliffhanger by screaming can’t just not be metatextual, certainly not in her last story.

But what’s very different is just how like a horror film this is when you have visuals. We can’t say, without the actual footage, whether it was directed that way, to unnerve and frighten us, but the terrifying surviving clip of Oak and Quill with Maggie is certainly like this. And so is the animation, simply suited by the pacing and the weird electronic music. In short, this is the episode where Fury from the Deep starts to get bloody terrifying. The scenes with Maggie, with quite a lot of screen time, have pretty much no other purpose. 

Episode Three 

"I don’t really like being scared out of my wits every second.”

This is an episode where the animation makes it much easier to follow the plot- it’s much easier what happens with Maggie and Robson at the end, for one thing. And all the stuff about Robson’s state of mind and the discontent among his senior staff is much easier to follow. Robson, again, somehow feels much more nuanced. We don’t see anyone other than a ranting, chippy sourpuss who seems frankly unprofessional- but we aren’t seeing him in a “normal” context.

The experiments in the TARDIS are, as I suspected last time round, much better with visuals. And following the plot much more firmly makes it clear how well written this is- a six larger with strong characterisation and that feels pacy, where every scene is justified for reason of either character or plot. And this episode, like the last one, is wonderfully effective at building up the scares.

Life on Mars: Season 2, Episode 5

"Is it Gene Hunt? Is he kicking in a nonce?"

Oh my. This episode is devilishly clever, and may be my favourite yet, not only using the format to do fun things with the fourth wall (irresistible in a series with a premise like this), but to do creative things with structure too, and with unreliable narrators (and, in the case of Graham Bathurst's arrest, unreliable camera angles) all over the place. There's even a structural nod to Rashomon. I love it. And bloody hell, it's only by Matthew Graham, by whom I'd been rather unimpressed until now.

Of course, the Camberwick Green sequence is awesome and rightly adored, but it says a lot for the episode as a whole that it's not overshadowed by this. Sam has had an overdose in 2006 / spiked drink in 1973, and we have a trippiness to the whole episode, where things are not what they seem. Yet, on the other hand, the episode functions as a wonderfully structured and dramatic double whodunit that doesn’t cheat and is full of satisfying twists. 

These two sides of the episode are brought nicely together by Sam coming into the case late, with an outsider’s perspective, and how everything hinges on another case from last year. This allows Sam to interview his colleagues and examine various angles on the case alongside us, the viewers. 

Last episode gave us an aspect of the 70s- swinging- as theme; this episode gives us structural cleverness. Taken together, they’re exactly what Life on Mars should be doing. Superb telly.

The Crown: Season 4, Episode 7- The Hereditary Principle

 "Idiocy and imbecility..."

Another strong episode here, and the first Margaret episode for ages (will there be many more?) as she hits her mid-life crisis with the realisation that her life has been unhappy and there isn't much time left to put things right, certainly not if the lung operation she's just had is an indicator.

There is, of course, a wider theme here of mental health and stigma, as Margaret discovers a family secret in the treatment of some insttutionalised members of the Queen Mum's family- and the first scenes of Katherine and Nerissa give us some juxtapositions characteristic of The Crown as they watch the Royal Variety Performance on telly (is this the one where Tommy Cooper died?) in their institution, and Katherine's birthday is contrasted with that of Prince Edward.

We hear the reasoning, and the voice of a royal generation, from the Queen Mum; when the Abdication propelled the Bowes-Lyons from minor Scottish aristocrats to toyalty by marriage, those within the family seen as suggesting a bloodline that as not "pure" needed to be hidden away. It was, as Margaret says, cruel, inhuman and reprehensible. Genetically, it seems, the royal family cannot have inherited the gene- but that has no bearing on the matter. If the hereditary principle depends on this sort of thing, the hereditary principle must go.

But the episode is also about Margaret, doomed to a life of heartache, emptiness and self-conscious usefulness, where potential lovers turn out to be "friends of Dorothy" and she feels threatened by Diana. I'm not sure she needs the Queen to give her purpose- she's rich and famous; there are plenty of things she could do to make the world a better place. But she is a paradox- a terrible snob who rails against her position as a "spare" whose proximity to the crown grows further apart with each royal birth and, as Gore Vidal said, far too intelligent for her station. And yet, especially as played by Helena Bonham Carter, she's a perversely likeable bitch. 

Life on Mars: Season 2, Episode 4

 "So he pushed a bird out of a car. Don't make him a bad bloke."

It’s barely worth commenting on how inevitable it was that Life on Mars would do a swinging episode: what could be more 1973? What’s slightly more of a surprise is that an episode based around swingers could be so bloody good. And I’m not just saying that because of the magnificently done scenes of the greatest ‘70s soirée since Abigail’s Party or, indeed, the scene with the whip. A whip and handcuffs, after all, add a certain something to a house party that Blue Nun and vol-au-vents just can't provide.

There’s very little arc stuff here, other than Annie being rather standoffish, just an excellent hour of drama with a nice twist at the end as to the identity of the killers and a very ‘70s, very Reggie Perrin look at how bohemian ideals were starting to infiltrate the world of suburban middle class ennui. There’s also a lot of nice culture clash stuff, whether it’s Gene and Sam disagreeing on surveillance or the heavy explored sexism and, indeed, rather rapey attitudes of men like Ray, who continues to be a total arse. More subtle is the scene where Gene passionately exhorts his team to find the killer of these dead women, but not yet as it's "beer 'o' clock".

It's a solid whodunit, full of character, that exploits the format superbly, with Sam and Annie going  undercover as "Tony and Cherie Blair", which dates this as much as anything 1973. Let's hope the episodes to come will keep up this standard.

Black Mirror: White Christmas

 “It's just a state change...

Ok, I haven't blogged any Black Mirror since 2017. This is literally because I happen to be at this particular episode, I feel it has to be blogged at Christmas and, er, I happen to have forgotten to blog it for three Christmases in a row.

However long it’s been, though, it’s always magnificent to be exposed to the dark, twisted, dystopian imagination of Charlie Brooker, and this is a particularly good episode. Starting with two men seemingly in an Arctic outpost on Christmas Day, this delivers thought-provoking shocks and twists within a clever and highly satisfying narrative that draws four different stories into one.

As well as the script, the cast is superb, headed by the excellent Jon Hamm. There’s some impressive directing, too, particularly during Greta’s mind-bendingly trippy operation. But it’s all about the ideas, mostly revolving around the consequences of “z-eyes” which add various apps to our eyes. Hence you can “block” people in real life, or invite pick-up artists to remotely advise you as you gatecrash an office Christmas party. There is, really, a simple premise behind all the evil twists here, but the twists themselves are devastating- especially the first and last ones.

There’s much ruminating on the ethics of things like privacy, child custody, crime and punishment, and the ethics of how we should treat artificial intelligence, but it’s all done as subtext to stories about very real and sympathetic characters. This is genius telly, and the most twisted Christmas ever. I’ll never again listen to Wizzard in the same way.

(This week has been hectic, so fewer blog posts and I’ve had to blog short things where I could. Fear not, things are proceeding as ever- I’m alternating Life on Mars and The Crown, squeezing in a bit of Sex Education, The Mandalorian and Once Upon a Time when Mrs Llamastrangler and I watch them, and films on weekends. The Christmas period may be weird though. And I’ll be doing more Black Mirror early in the New Year

(Review)

(Summary of what I’m blogging)

Sex Education: Season 2, Episode 7

 "You don't have a vagina, Sir..."

Yes, it's been a while. That's because it's nearing the end and Mrs Llamastrangler can't bear it to be over, Hence the, er, three months' delay since the previous episode. I look forward to probably blogging the finale in March, when we're all celebrating the first anniversary of this lovely plague.

This is, of course, a superbly crafted bit of telly, a penultimate episode which both points forwards to the finale and is the hangover after the party in the episode before, where there was much drama, and Otis was a total dick. Some characters receive a kind of closure to their arc at this point. Jackson has an hoest and open chat about swimming and much more with his mum, who is insecure about not being his biological mother, in a lovely scene. Aimee gets a kind of closure as all the girls in detention (Incidentally, said detention is collective punishment- making a load of suspects stay in detention until the miscreant confesses. This may be more trivial than, say, Israel's blockade of Gaza, but the moral principle is the same) help her with her trauma following the sexual assault through female friendship and solidarity. This also brings a lot of the main female characters together, and Lily finally decides to accept Ola as her girlfriend, which is cute. Thse are all elegantly completed arcs.

But the other characters have much to resolve in the finale. Groff's cowardly revelation of Jean's notes causes all kinds of suffering, and he cynically arranges to fire Jean. The massively hungover Otis, it seems, had sex with the untouchable, icy Ruby at the party, and there is much ensuing hilarity over the morning after pill and the absurd bureaucracy around obtaining it. Yet Otis begins to make amends from being a dick by being considerate, and hey connect. Ruby, it seems, has her own problems, with her dad's MS.

Then there's Eric and Rahim, with Rahim casually and matter-of-factly mentioning his atheism in church, not something I'd be comfortable doing. We also learn that his parents had to flee an unnamed country because of their atheism- and the two of them declare their love. Yet Eric's mum is right; there's no spark, and Rahim is not the One. I think we, the viewers, know who is.

But the ending is a cliffhanger that's been building since the very beginning as Jean confronts Otis about his sex clinics. This is top stuff, and I can't wait until the finale.

But I'll have to...

Catweazle: Series 1, Episode 1- The Sun in a Bottle

 "I'll feed thee anon, bizzlegut!"

Fear not; I'm stil blogging the usual stuff, I just needed something short to fill limited time. So this isn't, at least for now, the start of me blogging all of Catweazle, not least because Britbox only has this episode.

It's a fun little kids' show, though; the fashions and, especially, the cartoon opening titles, reveal this to be a fifty year old television programme, but it's a wonder to behold. I can't begin to imagine anything like this being made today, party because it's very noticeably an all-male cast (did nobody notice?), but because fun, intelligent, whimsical, live action telly for children is a thing of the past.

This is an entertaining and successful introductory episode in that it introduces Catweazle- a wizard from 11th century England, shortly after the Conquest, who finds himself in a spot of bother with a bunch of Normans speaking a suspiciously modern, Parisian French and then, via some kind of magic, a barn somewhere in the West Country in the age of Harold Wilson and Jimi Hendrix. It's quite a culture shock, and we have some fun with tractors end electric lights while establishing his friendship with young Carrot, and that he's to be kept a secret.I think we probably ought to gloss over the fact that modern English and old English are certainly not mutually intelligible.

But there are two things which are truly wonderful. One is Gorffrey Bayldon's extraordinary charismatic performance, bonkers yet mesmerising from the first scene as a character who nicely taps into that contemporary counterculture fascination with a pagan past- never mind that pre-conquest England was nothing of the sort. And the other, despite the historical nonsense of having Catweazle speak a kind of cod-Shakespearan early modern English from much closer to our time than his, is the poetic richness of the dialogue.

One day, I hope, I shall see more.

The Asphyx (1972)

 "I've failed!"

This film was, apparently, not a success on its original release, a serious horror film not dependent on spectacle was not wanted by the public in 1972. There's a lot to like about the film though, despite its flaws.

The concept is, in theory, interesting; a Victorian gentleman scientist discovers the secret of immortality, but discovers it has a terrible price. The immortality in question comes from capturing a supernatural "asphyx" (my subtitles said "ass fix"...), a tortured soul which looks quite terrifying) via a type of oh-so-Victorian pseudo-science. I love how very steampunk it is that reality obligingly behaves just as these Victorian "scientists" expect it to.

There's a strong cast, headed by Robert Stephens, but the characterisation very much takes second place to the ideas. And it feels weird that a film like this, based on a very horror concept and which requires an atmosphere of increasing foreboding to be at its most effecive, should not be shot like a horror film at all but just like a costume drama, with no attempt made to use the camera to create unease.

The cast is impressive on paper, but Robert Powell is fairly stiff and Jane Lapotaire (more recently seen as Prince Philip's mum in The Crown) doesn't have much of a character, The whole thing looks plush and expensive, but there are embarrassing moments: when Sir Hugo films his son's death, the resulting footage looks identical to the scene on the film, right down to the close-up.

Ultimately the film, a parable about the curse of immortality, is not quite so profound nor so deep as it thinks it is, and it would have been both much more enjoyable and, frankly, better, if it had been shot more like a Hammer-style high camp horror film by someone like Freddie Francis. This isn't a bad film, but there are reasons why it remains fairly obscure.

Radiohead- Kid A (2000)

This album caused quite a stir when it was released. Suddenly Radiohead, that interesting yet still radio friendly band who had become ubiquitous throughout much of the ‘90s- no bad thing- had released a difficult, experimental, jazzy album full of weird time signatures and general oddness. The general reaction was, well, stunned. I liked it at the time, a lot, but in context it was hard just to listen to on its own terms.

Interestingly, this album represents a real and permanent stylistic shift for the band, pointing vaguely forward to their future work. And today, twenty years later, it’s REALLY good, an album with depth and weirdness that never becomes boring as it always goes over your head. It sounds like late Portishead, Tristram Cary, Krautrock, David Bowie’s last album, Captain Beefheart, various tunes I’ve heard on Stuart Maconie’s Freak Zone, and no doubt a load of avant-garde artists I’ve never heard of. 

More importantly, though, it’s just a transcendently brilliant album. Only twenty years later, as the shock has dissipated, is it clear just what an extraordinary soundscape this is.

Santa Claus Conquers the Martians (1964)

 "You'll never get away with this, you Martian!"

Why not watch this silly bit of seasonal low camp silliness, I thought. Just how bad can it be?

Well... very bad. Very bad indeed. Come back, Teenagers from Outer Space; all is forgiven. In fact, bah humbug. This is a film in which Martians kidnap Santa Claus by using a silly '50s robot that may actually be made from cardboard boxes. This is a film where two children, dressed normally yet just feeling a bit cold, are menaced in the North Pole by a polar bear that is obviously a main in a suit on all fours- and this isn't even a low point.

This is, indeed, a film centred around the concept that Martian kids are a bit subdued and in need of cheering up, so the Martiand kidnap Santa. Yes, really. Also, the music is horrible, athough intentionally funny in places. But the film, overall, struggles to meet even the basic requirements of low camp fun, dragging despire its short length and being much better to read about than to watch. John Case is actually a pretty good Santa but the rest of the cast, quite wisely, phone it in. I'd recommend this to the connoisseur of awful cinema, but this film should not under any circumstances be approached without alcohol.

What's extraordinary, though, is that it all seems to be done with a straight face. Someone made, financed and promoted this film, presumably believing on some level that it was, if not good, at least not an unforgivable crime against culture. I suppose, for that reason, if no other, it ofers us some much-needed mindless optimism during this plague-ridden Christmas as our equally mindless prime minister threatens to hurl us into economic hell out of sheer xenophobic stupidity. Ho ho ho.

The Tractate Middoth

 "The other day I was forced to open a hotel door of my own volition!"

Don't worry; this is just a one-off diversion from Life on Mars and The Crown, but Christmas is coming; it would be remiss of me not to watch and blog this splendid adaptation by Mark Gatiss, who also directs, of one of M.R. James' most well-known stories.

And the whole thing is simply a triumph. The direction is magnificent, evoking horror with suspense, and the appearance of the ghost (That skull! Those spiders!) is as impressive as the way it's carefully shot. The cast is similarly magnificent, with a young Sacha Dhawan deeply effective as a leading man, and a strong cast of British character actors from Louise Jamson to Roy Barraclough to Burbage's very own Una Stubbs as a wonderfu comic grotesque. John Castle is, as ever, a splendidly hissible villain. And there's much actor-spotting fun as the Master chats to his mate, a pipe-smoking Nathan Barley.

What holds it all together, of course, is the story, puzzlingly not adapted since 1966. But this adaptation was made with a real love of the source material, and it shows.

The Crown: Season 4, Episode 6- Terra Nullius

 “Some countries are too important to send out the understudy...”

This is another clever episode, examining the serious fault lines in Charles and Di’s marriage, and making it clear how appallingly Diana was treated, against a series of breathtaking Australian locations. Yet it’s also the episode that makes it clear, I think, that while we can’t assume Peter Morgan is a republican it’s clear he is unsentimental about that peculiar institution. 

The press are, as I write, full of royalists moaning about The Crown making bits up, and this is an episode where such concerns will loom large.  I’ve addressed this before so let me simply make the point that this is drama, not documentary. That it is fictionalised is implicit in the format, and that should be obvious.

That facts, and memory, are unreliable is even lampshades early on as Elizabeth and Philip describe their 1954 tour of Australia in very different terms to what we saw on screen two seasons ago, claiming that it brought them together. But memory is not all that separates the generations. Elizabeth and Philip thought nothing of leaving their children in the UK for four months; Diana has quite sanely insisted on taking baby William. Yet she’s still expected to leave him alone for two weeks at the start of the tour, something that only she seems to realise would be utterly insane.

And that’s the thing; the royals are not just “tough”, as the Queen mentions at the family conference at the end just after her shocking failure to provide any support or understanding to a desperate Diana: they are a symptom of an elite culture that raises children to be emotionally stunted, damaged individuals. 

Charles, on one level, is the villain here- he shows no chemistry or real affection for his wife, yet he rings Camilla every day. Yet he himself is a victim of his upbringing, and did not meaningfully consent to the marriage any more than Diana.

We are left to ruminate on the irony of man-child Charles and arch-republican Bob Hawke connecting over the fact that both of them, for very different reasons, have their purposes thwarted by Diana. Yet all three of them can be seen as victims of what is, I think, very much presented as a toxic institution.

Life on Mars: Season 2, Episode 3

 "Why don't we bring in that well-known terrorist, Dana...?"

A stronger episode this time, as the inevitable happens and Life on Mars does an episode based around the Troubles. Sort of.

Inevitaby, given the sensibilities of 2007, in the wake of a Northern Ireland Peace Process not yet imperilled by Brexiteering insanity, as opposed to those of 1973, the twist is going to be that the bomber has nothing to do with the Irish. This leads to a rather good whodunit which is cleverly done and just about manages to hide the fact that, if we assume the bomber isn't Irish, there's only one possible suspect.

What the episode does, thogh, is shed a light on the discrimination and bigotry faced by Irish immigrant labourers at the time, through the eyes of Patrick O'Brien as example. Not only do we see police brutality and stereotyping (Gene Hunt, of course), but discrimination in terms of employment and housing. O'Brien may well have several chips on his shoulder, but those chips are well-fried.

There's also a nice culture clash as Ray returns to work too soon after having been caught in a bomb blast, with counselling for his PTSD being eschewed in favour of a round of drinks.

The meta-stuff about Sam's coma is really there to add suspense and drama rather than develop any kind of arc, as usual, but for the first time in a while we see the Test Card Girl, subtly recast but no less creepy. 

The overall effect is impressive. This is rather good and, I note, not written by one of the showrunners.

A Study in Terror (1965)

 "Mr Holmes is usually right..."

This is quite the obvious concept- Sherlock Holmes does Jack the Ripper- and one which, I suppose, succeeds or fails on the realisation.

There is, of course, something uneasy about the use of Jack the Ripper- of the brutal and sexualised murder of women- as entertainment, particularly in a film where men (and one woman, presented as the one "whore" not driven to the work by poverty). The male gaze, the Bechdel test, the sheer unthinking misogyny of it all- it can't go unacknowledged, much as we accept that such reactions were not common currency in 1965.

That said, though, this is a frustrating film. The script is, I think, first class- a superbly constructed whodunit, albeit cheating just a little with the final reveal of the killer not being earned, despite the neat cleverness of the other complex yet clear threads; good characterisation; a great deal of wit; lots of Sherlockian allusions in the script with frequent uses of Conan Doyle's dialogue. It's also a nice touch that the character of Dr Murray is a likely nod either to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle himself- a charitable man- or his mentor Dr Bell, or both.

And yet this excellent script is quite poorly realised. John Neville and Donald Houston are a pedestrian, superficial Holmes and Watson, failing to play their parts as actual characters rather than cyphers, wasting the nuanced lines they are given. The direction may be interesting in places- we get a rather odd shot of the final murder from the Ripper's POV, a disturbing riff on the male gaze- but the costuming (all the prostitutes wear symbolic red!) and sets are a little disappointing.

It's a shame that we end up with a film that's merely quite good; the script is better than that.

Tom Baker 1981 Interview

"I'm an enthusisastic drinker..." 

As we Doctor Who fans know very well, Tom Baker can, when the mood strikes him. Here we see him at his delightfully boggle-eyed, eccentric best. It's 1981, he's just finished Doctor Who and is playing Long John Silver on stage. He's still married to Lalla Ward but comes across very much as being in his hard-drinking, hard-reading Coach & Horses stage, very much the man about Soho.

He's on very good form here, gleefuly philosophical on money, adoration and the joys of drink, while casually pausing to deconstruct Treasure Island in a way that makes it clear what a fascinating individual he is, at the peak of his career, a man who hides his fierce and well-read intelligence under an eccentric facade so as not to intimidate people. You can tell the interviewer falling under this man who really should be scary and forbodding but, somehow, just isn't. Who wouldn't want a few pints with this man?

Quatermass and the Pit (1967)

 “You realise what you’re implying? That we owe our human condition to the intervention of insects?”

I thought, after all this time, that I'd better get roumd to the last of Hammer's cinematic adaptations of Nigel Kneale's Quatermass serials. This, an adaptation of the best of the three serials, is entirely unlike- and better than- the previous two, both of which were among the earliest Hammer horrors in the early '50s, to the extent that their right to that label may seem somewhat tenuous. But this is 1967, the very height of Hammer Horror...and much more clearly a horror film.

The film does not, of course, match the TV original in quality, necessarily truncated though it is. Much is excused, including Quatermass’ concluding monologue, although the script, by Kneale himself, is a superbly done adaptation. The story is one of mood, theme and character rather than cinematic visuals, but the cinematic medium allows for the building of a feeling of dread towards the end, and a much more visual ending.

Andrew Keir, although good, is no Andre Morell, but both Barbara Shelley and Julian Glover are first rate, and James Donald slowly grew on me. More so than the excellence of the cast, though, the film works superbly well as an old school horror film built on suspense and ideas rather than spectacle, keeping the subtext but moving things in a different direction from the original. And it really, really works.

This, I think, is absolutely one of the finest Hammers.

The Crown: Season 4, Episode 5- Fagan

 "The State has gone. She's dismantled it."

Again this season we have an episode that looks like a decent idea on paper but ends up not quite working. The royals take a bit of a back seat here as we look thematically about their contacts with, and inevitably perverted view of, the general public; that episode with Lord Altrincham gets a mention, and we see one of those garden party things, which looks horribly constipated.

But most of the episode focuses on Michael Fagan- unemployed, in a Kafkaesque web of benefits, denied visiting rights with his kids, abandoned in Thatcher's Britain to a life of dingy tower blocks and an actually rather cool "alternative '80s" soundtrack. It doesn't really matter that more is made of his conversation with the Queen after breaking in than real life warrants; it just doesn't really work.

We're supposed to see two opposing sets of values- the slow dismantling of social solidarity by Thatcher, whose chats with the splendidly Butskellite Queen are almost ideological. Yet Fagan's misery is contrasted with the jingoism of the Falklands victory, with its street parties and victory parades- and the opposition doesn't really work. One can be a sensibly Keynsian non-Monetarist who cares about social solidarity and believes in economic policies that lower unemployment while simultaneously believing that British citizens on faraay islands are entitled not to be conquered by fascist dictators. Even Michael Foot supported the Falklands War. The implied contrast here just doesn't work.

There's some good stuff here- it's clear that the Queen and Philip don't see eye to eye over Thatcher, and Gillian Anderson is perfect. But this episode, overall, is a bit of a dud.

Life on Mars: Season 2, Episode 2

 "Have you ever heard of softly softly?"

"Yes, but I prefer Z-Cars..." 

I'm slowly coming round, on this re-watching on Life on Mars, that it's a programme where middling-to-good but not great scripts are saved by a great concept and cast, along with some frequently excellent direction and much fun with nostalgia. And yet occasionally, when a script from someone who isn't a showrunner turns up, the quality rises hugely. Ironically, for me as a Doctor Who fan in 2020, that outsider is usually Chris Chibnall, who so far has been the finest writer on Life on Mars.

This is a superb, character-driven episode which really pays off the appearance last episode of Kevin McNally's Superintendent Harry Woolf, as we gradually uncover the horrible truth that this exemplar of policing, Gene's mentor, has gone dodgy. This is nicely paralleled with Sam meeting his own future mentor in 1973- and finding an unsure young man dealing with racism by keeping his head down ("Why should I have to fight all the battles?" 

It's very much a western in tone, especially in the final Mexican stand-off where Glen hints at the great man he will become and Gene faces what his mentor has become. Philip Glenister is extraordinary. But we also get good character moments for the likes of Chris and Ray, and Annie's first days as a DC, and Onslow from Keeping Up Appearances being tied up.

It's not often I say this of Life on Mars, much as I love it, but this is a superb bit of telly.

Godzilla vs Biollante (1989)

 “Biollante is just a cross between a plant and Godzilla...!"

It’s been more weeks than I realised since the last Godzilla film so here's the next one- and it's one of the most impressive with a cool antagonist and high production values.

There's a lot of fun here, from the concept (we get to see a Godzilla cell merge with a plant cell to create Biollante, because that's how genetics works...) to the appearance of Biollante, with the rubber tentacles and Venus flytrap maws. Its all very '80s, with the industrial espionage (we get to see the contemporary industrian rivalry between the Americans and Japanese in this decade from a Japanese perspective, ESP nonsense, car chases and action, 80s fashions, 80s action film music and all those things which are fun to look back on from a vantage point of thirty years later.

And yet, despite the B movie silliness of the concepts, the plot is bloody good and the whole film is superbly shot. It's also positive to see a new monster antagonist for Godzilla after all these years, and a different type of monster at that. We carry directly on from the previous film, with the same impressively realised Godzila (the set piece where he destroys Osaka is extremely well done) with excellent use of his familiar fanfare. Brilliantly, it's Godzilla who remains the antagonist throughout, with Biollante being the eventual means of his destructtion in a well-plotted series of events.

I'm not ranking these films in order of best to worst, as this isn't that sort of blog, but if I were, this would rank quite highly as a genuinely good monster film that nevertheless offers plenty of low camp fun.

The Crown: Season 4, Episode 4- Favourites

 "Our children are lost..."

Hmm. There’s a lot to admire about this episode and much that is interesting- not least our first glimpses of how they’re going with the characterisation Princes Andrew and Edward. But I think, structurally and thematically, it’s a bit of a misfire and doesn’t really work overall, despite some impressive character scenes.

This series is, of course, drama and not documentary, and therefore entitled to balance factual accuracy with dramatic licence, as we’ve often discussed. It’s not unusual, in The Crown, for the chronology of events to be altered a bit so that events coincide where this was not the case in reality, generally as a way of making a character point. This is generally fine. But, in this episode, it’s so obviously done that you can see the joins.

There are three separate threads to this episode- the Queen realising she doesn’t know her four children as well as she probably should; the useless Mark Thatcher getting lost in the Sahara; and the early stages of the Falklands crisis.

Still, the relationship between Elizabeth and Philip is dealt with well, as is the weirdness of Charles, his self-centredness and Diana’s very worrying depression. There’s also Anne’s unhappy marriage and jealousy of Diana’s popularity, and we learn that Edward is an arrogant, entitled git and Andrew a charming pervert, at least the versions we see here.

Most interestingly, though, we see how blatantly Thatcher favouritises her son over her daughter out of probable preference fir the opposite sex, essentially because she worshipped her father and had issues with her mother. This is fascinating.

And yet, good though the character development is here, the structure is just too artificial to hang together. It’s a good execution of a flawed concept.

Life on Mars: Season 2, Episode 1

 "Now hands that do dishes can be soft as your face with mild green Fairy Liquid..."

Aargh. There's a lot I should in theory be liking about this episode, but I can't help feeling there's just a little too much clunkiness, a little too much artifice in the dialogue, a little too much... well, Matthew Graham.

The concept is sound- a killer in 2006 trying to torture Sam turns out to be the main suspect in 1973, with the narrative making it quite clear he's the killer; no whodunit here. Rather cleverly, we spend the first half of the episode seeing another police culture clash, with Sam insisting on by the book methods as opposed to Gene, with the new Superintendent (who must be significant as he's played by Kevin McNally) siding with Sam. But halfway through, as Sam gets desperate- for Tony Crane's future wife as well as himself- the roles are swiftly reversed as it's Sam who tries to fit up Crane while Gene is operating by the book.

This feels a little out of character, and the resolution is unsatisfying- just when Sam seems about to be rumbled for corruption the script cops out and suddenly has Crane trying to kill both Sam and Gene. It feels forced. So does the scene where Crane "outs" sam as being mad for thinking he's from the future, only for the tables to be turned and crane to be put into a mental institution, just like that. It's utterly ridiculous, and a shame, as the concept behind the episode is good.

We end with Annie joining the CID, while Sam received a mysterious phone call, from "Hyde 2612", about a secret mission in 1973. Intriguing, and pointing to future episodes which, I hope, are much betterthan this one.

The Crown: Season 4, Episode 3- Fairytale

 "Whatever love means..."

I need to be careful with this episode. One of the side effects of watching and blogging a Netflix series that is actually current is that one cannot avoid comment on The Crown in the media. Because, I suspect, the fourth season is moving closer to the present, there's a lot more uproar over the fact that the series can be quite damning in its portrayal of (mostly) living royals, and we should remember that this is not documentary but fiction, based on fact but with much artistic licence. We should remember this.

However, Peter Morgan has been quoted as saying words to the effect that, while individual scenes may be fictionalised, the overall effect is "true".

Well... if what this episode shows us about the treatment of Diana is "true" on either level- if- we should set up an, er, new New Model Army, wage war against the Royalists and raise the standard of Parliament. Perhaps Marcus Rashford would make a good Lord Protector of a Second British Commonwealth? 

 This is all, quite rightly, shown from Diana's perspective, as she's forced to live in Buck House while Charles buggers off on a long jaunt. A teenager, a child, an innocent virgin (the royals seemed to insist on that) for sacrifice, whose youth and innocence is nicely shown through snippets of early '80s hits and that nicely conceived cene where she roller skates through those long, wide Buck House corridors with her Walkman, just to remind us that this is 1981 and apparently not some awful feudal past. The bulimia is hardly surprising.

Worse, the pressure of a nation, and beyond, reaches fever pitch. The only person she's able to meet is the worst person possible, Camilla Parker Bowles, in a scene that makes clear that "Gladys" knows "Fred" intimately well and she knows her future husband hardly at all. A sacrificial virgin, indeed.

Her attempts to back out are futile. She has been captured, and the helpless virgin will be sacrificed. Even after she sees that Charles is still seeing Camilla there is no way out.

And she's bored. Alone. Incommunicado with royals out of reach and Bagpuss her only comfort, given lessons in royal flummery by her bitch of a grandmother. Bullied and humiliated as she enters the presence of the royals, embarrassed and degraded as she deperately tried to curtsey to the right arrogant, entitled bastards in the right order. It's enough to awaken anyone's inner Robespierre.

Charles himself does not look at all good here. Yet he himself is unhappy, and himself has no real agency, trapped by what he is into an unwanted marriage to an unworldly child. The Queen's words to him near the end are horrible, about how her grandmother Queen Mary was unable to marry the charming Prince Albert Victor (he of the Ripper rumours, incidentally) after his sudden death, and was then forced to marry his younger brother, the notoriously charmless George V, and endure forty-two years of unhappiness. Christ.

This is gripping, superb telly, and Emma Corrin is extraordinary. It's also utterly horrifying. I've said before that, although I'm a republican in principle, I balk at the practicalities of actually doing it. In 1981, I would have said sod the practicalities. If this is anything like how the monarchy actually was in 1981, its continued existence would not have been acceptable.

Hustling for Health (1919)

It's most odd to see Stan without Ollie, but here we have an early solo outing from Lancashire's very own Stan Laurel.

The film is only fifteen minutes long but, like a cartoon short, packs a lot of splendid visual and slapstick humour within that run time, along with some delightfully terrible one-liners as part of the intertitles. But, most notably, it clearly hows just how brilliant the twentysomething Stan Laurel was at physical comedy.

It's clearly of another era, of course: a world of hen-pecked husbands and tyrannical wives who were sometimes (gasp) suffragettes, a time when horses and carts were still a common sight on the road, and a time when one could casually remark that one was going out to "kill a giblet for diner". And there's a baby in this short, who would certainly be a centenarian if alive today.

Some things are timeless, though, and the comic potential of a hose is certainly one of them. The film is genuinely funny, with some top quality physical comedy acting from all involved, and the hopefully romantic ending is cute. The film is freely available on YouTube and is certainly worth a look.

The Amazing Spider-Man (1977 TV Pilot)

 "Maybe I wanna ask him where he buys his webs?"

I was expecting something corny and silly when I decided to watch the 1977 TV pilot with Nicholas Hammond; something not necessarily very good but fun to point and laugh at. I mean, look at the '70s hair and bell bottoms, right?

Except... this is actually a pretty solid, wll-written TV pilot with a strong script, impressively directed and with particularly impressive use of incidental music. Nicholas Hammond is a pretty good Peter Parker and, while the performances are a little kids' TV, I'm rather impressed with this.

Not that this is The Sopranos, of course, or that it necessarily aspires to be anything more than a bit of action and adventure. But the script is pacy and well- structured, with exposition nicely integrated into the action throughout and that familiar origin nicely, and quickly, done, with a glowing radioactive spider allowed to wander off and bite whomever else it so wishes.

We have Jonah, Robbie Robertson and Aunt May, although May and Peter's house is perhaps a little too large for a supposedly poor family. Spidey's wisecracking may be absent here, but the costume is good and Spidey's powers made to look cool. Hammond's Peter is endearingly dorky. He seems to get a love interest, Judy, so presumably no Mary Jane or Gwen Stacy. There's a comedy police detective, too, who works surprisingly well.

There are no supervillains, as such, as usul with 70s superhero adaptations, although one can see the argument that supervillains tend not to look good on screen. Yet the baddie we have here- a kind of evil mindfulness counsellor with the most 70s suit of all time- is pretty cool, using his 70s computer and hypnotised 70s martial arts people to hypnotise upstanding members of society into robbing banks. It's a solid, fascinatig plot, well-structured and exciting to watch.

This is far from the silly bit of low camp I was expecting, and certainly far better than that silly 60s cartoon. I'm impressed, and may blog the series at some point. This is good stuff.

The Santa Clause (1994)

 “You don't want to be responsible for killing the spirit of Christmas, do you... Santa?"

I know, it's November, and Santa shoots an elf for every blog post about a Christmas film before the end of the month. The firing squad is assembling as I write.

Nevertheless... 2020, I think it's fair to say, has been a bit pants. Many people are decorating their houses for Christmas earlier this year in a herculean effort to hold back the existential fear and despair. There are things we can do to cheer ourselves up and forget that there's a plague going on around us. The Americans did their bit earlier this month by voting out the Stupid Orange One, which I very much enjoyed, and Mrs Llamastrangler and I did our bit earlier this evening by watching this, one of Mrs L's favourite Christmas films, with Little Miss Llamastrangler.

Now, I've never seen The Santa Clause before today, as I was seventeen in 1994, too old for such films, and have never really been a great fan of overly sentimental '90s Hollywood comedies. Plus, nothing will ever eclipse Santa Claus: The Movie in my estimation.

And yet... I enjoyed this. The principle behind it- if you damage Santa, you become him, a variation of "you broke it, you own it"- is played very well. The central custody battle between Scott and his estranged wife isn't overdone into extreme weepy territory and knows when to stop. This isn't a laugh-out-loud funny comedy- it's a '90s sentimental Hollywood comedy- but Tim Allen is superb and there are enough amusing moments. And I like the literal North Pole, the elf agents with jetpacks, and the slow morphing of Scott into Santa.

And there's no denying the film has heart, is executed well, and is brimming with Christmas spirit, dammit. It is of its time and of its genre, but manages to transcend both enough to be enjoyable. This is almost as good as Santa Claus: The Movie. Almost.

The Crown: Season 4, Episode 2- The Balmoral Test

 "Well, I think we failed that test..."

That was a fascinating episode, and my fears about potential cosiness from the last instalment are starting to seem unfounded. The metaphor here with the stag- it innocently wanders across a stream into the land of the Royals, is stalked and ultimately shot- is not exactly subtle, but it's clever how the metaphor can be taken in different ways for Diana- enticed into their clutches and captured, and Thatcher- humiliated, and hurries off to symbolically shoot her Cabinet.

Thatcher and Denis are roundly humiliated at Balmoral, with the royals in genetal- Margaret especially- being inconsiderate and rude. Yet there's nuance to their snobbery. Thatcher is unable to relax, have fun, or do anything but work. She's stuffy, resentful, over-serious. One suspects that, tests or not, someone like Harold Wilson, who was most certainly non-U, would have charmed the lot of them. Yes, the snobbery is real, and the way this episode depicts the Thatchers' treatment (the accuracy of this is much-disputed, I believe, but this is television drama, not documentary) is both uncomfortable and hilarious to watch. But it's more complicated than that. 

More broadly, we see clearly how the very non-U Thatcher resents the aristocratic "wets" in her Cabinet, but she isn't necessarily in the right here. The "wets" stand for a time when Conservatives were actually conservative, and more concerned with running things than breaking them. I'm on the Queen's side during their spiky meeting towards the end. But one has to admire the way the script avoids didacticism.

Diana is young, innocent, only eighteen to Charles' thirty-three. Christ. And she's being manipulated throughout, very uncomfortably, into an arranged marriage in which she imagines she could ever be happy. She may pass the "test" with flying colours, being both U and fun-loving, but she's prey. Even Camilla is in on the whole thing. Philip, and pretty much the whole firm, are keen to rush Charles into a marriage he isn't sure he wants with a girl he hardly knows. The scene towards the end, as Diana gets papped for the first time, makes us shudder at where the next seventeen years are leading.

Neil Young- Harvest (1972)

Neil Young has changed a lot as an artist in the last fifty odd years, from folk to punk to whatever Crazy Horse are. Not all of his albums over that span of time have been great, but you can never write him off. There’s always a sense that, however rubbish his last couple of albums may have been, the next one could be awesome.

Harvest is from his earlier period, though, where he was more consistent. It’s not necessarily his best album but it’s probably his best known. And yes, there are a couple of rubbish filler songs (“Are You Ready for the Country” is pants, and the less said about the lyrics to “A Man Needs a Maid” the better. But the album as a whole is magnificent and “Harvest”, “The Needle and the Damage Done” and “Old Man” are songs that will always stay with me. 

I can generally do without the strings we get in places, but this is a triumphant example of his folk period.

Once Upon a Time: Season 1, Episode 4- The Price of Gold

 "All magic comes at a price!"

Once again we get a very nice little deconstruction, this time of Cinderella. Once more we start in the fairytale world and events play out as we expect... except that Cindy's Fairy Godmother is killed and replaced by Rumpeltilskin, who extracts a price. And that price is Cindy's firstborn. Oh dear.

In Storybrooke, meanwhile, our Cinderella is a single pregnant teenager who, as we’re told with not a lot of subtlety, very much echoes Emma at her age- but decides to keep the baby. Interestingly, the baby’s father steps up at the end but is heavily encouraged to dodge his fatherly duties by his own dishonourable prick of an arrogant father.

Modern day, teenage pregnancy, boyfriend father a dishonourable dick. Henry connecting with Emma.  Seeming negotiated victory- but Emma owes Gold a favour. We know this will haunt her.

The structure of this episode is awfully clever, in both realities and how they echo one another. Cinderella’s attempt to magically trick Rumpel out of her firstborn by imprisoning him leads to the disappearance of her himbo husband and the end of her happiness. This makes us fear for Emma. There will, I know, be more to this.

All this, and Emma continues to bond with Henry. And the plot thickens- Emma is offered a police job by the sheriff, and eventually takes it... only for the final revelation that Regina is having Saturday sexy shenanigans with said lawman. Well then.

Again- nice plot, nice metatextual subtext, nice acting, nice realisation although inevitably with a bit of dodgy CGI... but the dialogue continues to be a bit lacking.

Once Upon a Time: Season 1, Episode 3- Snow Falls

 "There's no such thing as love at first sight..."

This episode gives us, in the fairytale flashback scenes, a fascinating deconstruction of the Snow White story. After offending the Evil Queen, Snow White has been framed and outlawed, which is ho he ends up meting ad connectng with Prince Charming (James!) in an exciting adventure involving a bridge ad some trolls. They ens up parting but clearly like each other; there's more of this story to tell. And I like how Snow White is revealed to be a kick-as hero with loads of agency, not a simpering, passive princess who just stands around looking pretty and incubating babies. That matters.

The present day scenes riff nicely on this, as the Prince Charming figure (David?) is in a coma, thus parted from Mary Margaret. And, despite Henry's plan to bring the lover together, Regina rather cleverly improvises and finds an apparent wife, who may well be the girl he was about to marry in the fairytale scenes. All this is done with the collusion of the local doctor, played by Blaine off of iZombie.

This is clever, both at the level of Storybrooke presumable being intended by the Evil Queen as a hell, and as a nicely meta litte deconstruction both of the Snow White myth and of love and first sight. If only the dialogue was as clever as the plotting. But I'm still very much enjoying this.

The Crown: Season 4, Episode 1- Gold Stick

 "Two women running the show...?"

This is a real first- I'm blogging the first episode of a season on Netflix on the very day of it's release. That won't last, of course; I'll soon be back behind the curve, as usual.

This is a sumptouosly shot, perfectly well-executed season opener that introduces a new status quo (and new primer minister, a new love interest for Charles, a shocking (unless you're spoled by general knowledge) murder, and that does all the nuts and bolts of storytelling very well. It's very clever narratively, as The Crown always is.This is a splendid piece of telly. It's just that, the odd scene aside, this episode hasn't quite caught fire. It's very good, not great. But these are early days.

The opening scenes are our first bit of cleverness, with visuals of royal pomp and ceremony being overlaid with the voice of an IRA spokesman threatening destrucion to the British Crown- and, of course, foreshadowing Dickie's murder, alongside two young lads. For maximum drama, he does so shortly after an unusually harsh conversation with Charles, who is still having an adulterous affair with Camilla, and for good meaaure leaves Charles a parting letter expressing his disappointment with the now thirtysomething prince, whose amorous pleasure-seeking evokes Edward VIII- a comparison which we keep seeing in The Crown; are we perhaps to see a long arc where he begins to change his ways? And Dickie's death leads to an extraordinary scene, the finest in the episode as well as a superb performance from Tobias Menzies, where Philip expresses resentment at Dickie- his own father figure- transferring his fatherly affections to Charles, who already has a father. This is good stuff.

There's also Thatcher, and Gillian Anderson impresses as the tone deaf and arrogant premier, whose personal awkwardness with the Queen is awkwardly done. I love the concept of Elizabeth's Cabinet guessing game, but Thatcher famously had no real sense of fun. And her comment that "I have found women in general tend not to be suited to high office" in as extraordinary as Philip's snobbery not only about her grocer's daughter origins but about her being a chemistry graduate.

And, of course, there's Diana. Interesting, both we and Charles are first introduced to her as a playfully innocent faerie-type figure. That's an interesting choice. But she seems very innocent, and she's still a teenager, which is a bit icky.

I suppose the episode has a lot to do, and there are certainly excellent parts within it. But there's a certain complacent cosiness of style here too. Let's hope that isn't here to stay.

Once Upon a Time: Season 1, Episode 2- The Thing You Love Most

 "Since when were apples a threat?"

This second episode makes it increasingly fascinating where all this is going, as our protagonist Emma digs her investigative claws further into Storybrooke, not so much discouraged but encouraged by Regina's constant harassment, while the fairytale scenes add a little depth and detail to the backstory. Is this going to be the format?

Regina seems perturbed to see the Storybrooke clock move, and time start to move forward. Does this make her suspect who Emma may be? Certainly the constant framings and harassment, which begin to stretch even the patience of sheriff Christian Grey (using Jamie Dornan's native Norn Iron tones) indicate she's beginning to be somewhat concerned, and that's before we get to the fascinating final scene with the enigmatic and charismatic Mr Gold- who seems to enjoy exactly the power and prestige that Rumpelstiltskin was promised in the fascinating fairytale scenes.

There's a constant dance between Emma, Regina and Henry, but is Emma starting to believe? It's ambiguous at this point, but I suspect her investigative nature can't help but add to her suspicions. Not only this, but does she have some sort of power to detect lies?

The flashback scenes are more the focus for this episode, though, as we see the steps the Evil Queen had to take in order to acquire the curse in the first place. So we meet Maleficent, and Rumpelstiltskin tells the Queen the true cost of the curse, which will in any case leave her forever "empty"- she must kill the person she loves most. And that's her doddery old man, who gets a scene to establish he's an awfully nice old chap before the Evil Queen stabs him brutally with her knife. Lovely. Now we know just how ruthless she can be- presumably in both realities.

This is clever, and the characters are likeable. There's perhaps a lack of sparkle in the dialogue, but I'm enjoying this.

Once Upon a Time: Season 1, Episode 1- Pilot

 "What do you think stories are for?"

Yes, I know, I have all sorts of stuff on the go, but this is something Mrs Llamastrangler has been obsessed with over the last few months, and marathoning it again with me is something we can do together while she's ill and bedridden. I see there's rather a large number of episodes. Gulp.

Obviously I've seen a fair few Disney films (Little Miss Llamastrangler is five) but I'm very far from being a hardcore fan and no doubt will fail to get all the references that no doubt lurk within each episode. First impressions, with the introductory bit of text, are nicely metatextual as we join Snow White and Prince Charming (was he some kind of bigamist or something, with Cinderella too?) at the end of their tale as they are married... and then cursed by the delightfully evil, and sexy, Evil Queen. I love the way sh's simply referred to as that. Lana Parilla is superb here, managing to convey the right level of cartoonishly evil without overdoing things.

And then we switch to the real world, in contemporary (well, 2011, before all that unpleasantness with Brexit and Trump) Boston, as we meet private investigator Emma in a particularly cool introduction, as the bloke she's on a date with turns out to be a fugitive, and her quarry. And then up pops Henry, the son she gave up for adoption ten years ago.

Henry is an interesting and resourceful kid, played by a good child actor... and his adoptive mother Regina- the major of Storybrooke, Maine- is somehow the same person as the Evil Queen, which gives some credence to Henry's insistence that the whole town is stuck in time, and populated by fairytale characters who know not who they are.

Back to the fairytale world- it's clever how the cinematography and lighting subtly distinguishes the two realities- Snow White and the Prince are off to get a prophecy from the imprisoned Rumpelstiltskin, played with show-stealing aplomb by the ever-magnificent Robert Carlyle in a part very different from his usual fare. Begbie this is not, but a cunning, eccentric faerie creature that dominates the screen and is compulsively watchable, whether as Rumpelstiltskin or Mr Gold.

The royal couple learn that their future is bleak but that there is hope in the form of their soon-to-be-born daughter... Emma. And we instantly know, by the iron law that TV dramas never feature multiple characters with the same name, whom that is.

The moment of the birth sets off the terrible CGI curse, but baby Emma gets away, following a swordfight by the Prince where he holds his newborn daughter with his other hands, sends her away- and is promptly killed. Snow White now has nothing- and is about to be sent "somewhere horrible" by the Evil Queen. And in Emma and Henry we have two generations given up by their parents.

This may not be top tier telly, perhaps, but so far it's certainly grabbed me.

The Crown: Season 3, Episode 10- Cri de Coeur

 "War is our love..."

It's an interesting choice to end the season on such a downbeat note. This is a Margaret episode and a desperately unhappy one, yes, in which she makes a thankfully unsuccessful suicide attempt, yes, but everything seems to be falling apart. The country seems to be at rock bottom, leading the Queen to question exactly what it is she's supposed to have achieved as she faces her Silver Jubilee. It appears, perhaps, as though there's no future, and England's dreaming.

With a bit of sleight of hand this episode covers three and a bit years, from Harold Wilson becoming PM again in the wake of the February 1974 election to the Jubilee itself. There's a lovely little valedictory scene as Wilson resigns, calmly teling the Queen of his Alzheimers diagnosis which, after sixty years of public duty, it now poised to rob him of his retirement like the bastard it is. It's lovely to see how close they've become over the years, in that very British way, with him confessing he's always seen her as a "leftie at heart" and her accepting an invitation to dine at Downing Street, an honour only previously given to Churchill.

But, for Margaret, there is true despair. Her marriage is failing, but worse than that. Tony is humiliating her, again and again, with affair after affair while simultaneously managing to charm everyone- the Queen Mum, Philip, even the Queen who shows him obvious affection- into forgiving his little dalliances. Yet when Margaret has her own little fling with an obliging toy boy she faces tabloid humiliation and appalling double standards as her own affair- just the one, after years of being cuckqueaned- faces consequences very different from those faced by her husband. At least Tony is now faced with having to potentially marry his latest fling.

It’s a fascinating way to end a superb season. Roll on Season Four in a couple of days...

The Crown: Season 3, Episode 9- Imbroglio

 "I wasn't supposed to fall in love with you..."

If one is, in time, to become a king, one must first become a pawn. This quietly devastating episode shows one again that to be royal is to spend life in prison- a luxurious prison, yes, but one with little hope of parole.

We begin with David's funeral, which clearly points to where things are going, as Wallis warns Charles never to abanon true love... and that his family cannot be trusted. We have already been made to see parallels between Charles and David, and this is where they play out.

Charles is in love with Camilla. And yet it was all supposed to be a bit of fun, arranged by the Queen Mum and Lord Mountbatten, so he can have a bit of fun and "sow hs oats" while undergoing naval training. Both of them are pawns and even Camilla, who is doing this because she was told to, and supposedly still "obsessed" with Andrew Parker-Bowles, is confused about her feelings. The Queen is not exactly pleased at the actions of her mother and Dickie, but there's only one thing for it- Camilla and Parker-Bowles are to marry. By royal fiat. Just like that. This is life in the British upper echelons, in the 1970s.

What's particularly clever here is how the events of the time are allowed to function as contrast and metaphor. Much of the B plot consists of the mutually stubborn battle over the coal strikes between Ted Heath and Arthur Scargill, both of whom are from very working class backgrounds which have shaped them very differently- we even get a flashback to Heath's childhood. But it's hard not to see the power cuts, the candles and the three day week, explicitlt referred to as heralding a potential collapse of law and order, as a parallel to and metaphor of how things are panning out for Charles. I'm not sure I'm entirely comfortable with a national crisis being used to illustrate the finer feelings of our betters, but it's all very impressively done. And it's niceto see how seamlessly we've moved to focus on the new generation.

Plus we get to see Princess Anne, ny new favourte character, singing along to David Bowie's "Starman". This is awesome.

Roadkill: Episode 4

 "I will set my country free..."

Argh. You know how things are, essentially, good, bad or indifferent, and in reviewing something (not that I’d necessarily describe this blog as a “review” but me just pontificating however I want), one is essentially placing what one is reviewing along that scale, and why? Well, this episode- and by extension the series- is rather difficult to put on that scale. To show why, I’m going to discuss the episode twice- as a taut political thriller and as a state of the nation political drama from David Hare.

As a thriller, with Peter Laurence as an antihero who schemes his way to the top while still being recognisably human, this is bloody good. It’s admirable how nearly the places click into place in this final episode. The whole thing is extremely well structured, with no loose ends and some nice character stuff- the meeting between Peter and Rose is nicely heartwarming, and I like how they subvert expectations by connecting- although the comparison between the politician and the fraudster is clear. It's House of Cards for the '20s.

Unfortunately, as this is a play by David Hare, I think we're supposed to see some kind of depth of commentary on the state of the nation, wth Peter Lawrence being a thinly veiled Boris Johnson. But there's no attempt here to understand the Tory mind. While I'm sure many Tories are indeed cynical bastards, that's a fairly shallow point to make. Yes, Peter is allowed to have genuine libertarian principles, but this is essentialy taking House of Cards and expecting us to take it, not just as a bit of Machiavellian fun, but as a serious examination of modern Toryism. There's no sense whatsoever that Hare has made any attempt to look at how Tories see themselves. One doesn't have to be a Tory, or right wing (I'm neither: I'm a Whig) to understand that some people, whether I agree or not, may see value in a Burkean clinging to tried and tested institutions and caution about change lest we risk the chaos of change, or indeed in a more fundamentalist view of the free market, incompatible though these ideas surely seem. It would hard to extend this approach to the shallow and destructive Leninism of a Dominic Cummings, which would be fascinating, but most Tories would agree with me there.

I'll be generous, and treat Roadkill as a modern House of Cards. In those terms, it's rather good although not as good as the original. But it's no more than that.

The Hands of Orlac (1924)

This is, surprisingly given my somewhat limited experience of silent cinema, the third time I've blogged a film by Robert Wiene. Although, strictly speaking, an Austrian film, with  Wiene and a starring performance from Conrad Veidt this is a somewhat well-known example of German Expressionist cinema, and would go on to inspire a dizzying number of remakes.

The Expressionist sets are less overt than in The Cabinet of Dr Caligari, but the film is drenched throughout in deep emotional passion- much of which is erotic- which is subtly inferred by sets, lighting and cinematograpy and not-so-subtly conveyed through the far from naturalistic style of acting.

The film is over-long and drags in places, but it is difficult to pass judgement on this; the version we see today, in the reverse of the usual situation with silent cinema, is an extended version. Certainly, though, the central decision to replace concert pianist's hands, following his train accident, with those of a supposed murderer feels rushed to the point of elision. Why those hands in particular? Furthermore, even in an age before a basic heath service, surely Paul Orlac could claim some sort of insurance or similar to avoid penury? Either way, this part of the plot feels unconvincing. But on the other, er, hand we have a very clever ending and a touching (and sexualised) relationship between the protagonist couple. It's also refreshing, and effective, that the obvious option of having the hands make Orlac become a murderer is avoided, despite some misdirection, and the film is essentially psychological- and all the better for it.

There's a lot to like about this film and it's main fault, that it is over-long, is a result of modern re-editing. Alas, Wiene died in 1938, so a Director's Cut will not be forthcoming, but the film is nevertheless in the public domain and easy to find online.

Sunn O)))- Black One (2005)

I suspect that not quite every single one of my readers may be into Drone Doom. It is, undoubtedly, an acquired taste. But I've come to listen to rather a lot of it over the last decade or so and the new music I listen to these days.

Essentially, for those of you not versed in it, Drone Doom uses the heavy riffs and instruments of heavy metal to create slow, mellow soundscapes. Think of a cross between Brian Eno, ambient trance and Slayer and you'll get the idea. You'll be surprised how well it works.

I've blogged Earth before, one of the two most prominent bands, but the other behemoth of the Drone Doom scene is Sunn O)) and this album showcases exactly what they sound like- slow, heavy yet mellow riffs and songs that don't so much hook you as hypnotise you into acquiescence. It's not so much a collection of songs as one long soundscape, apparently ending with an epic about Elizabeth Bathory (for whom see my blog post on Countess Dracula), but frankly who knows. All I know is I can't get enough of this sort of thing.

The Mandalorian: Chapter 10- The Passenger

 "What can I say? I'm a great judge of character."

Ok, this episode isn't as awesome as last week's, mainly because it's ultimately a filler episode about getting from Point A to Point B, as far as the arc is concerned, with a bit of picaresque fun and adventure on the way in something of a story of the week. There's a lot less to analyse as it's all rather straightforward in comparison. You can't deny, though, that it's all very well done.

Mando, in travelling to meet this mysterious other Mandalorian, has to transport a cute and amusing frog lady with her jar of eggs which Baby Yoda, the little sod, tries to eat. He gets intercepted by a couple of cops for a broken taillight and runs away, crashing and incurring the wrath of a family of particularly fearsome spiders. That's it. That's the plot. But the way it's done is rather entertaining, despite the fact this is all filler- although I like the way the cops (New Republic types with X-Wings) basically let Mando off at the end.

I don't even mind Dr Mandible(!) looking a bit crap, or all the cutesyness. This is a superbly entertaining episode which continues the strong start to a second season which so far is better than the first. And we even get a cameo from Richard Ayoade.

The Mandalorian: Chapter 9- The Marshal

 “There's no such thing as an abandoned Sarlacc pit."

"There is if you eat the Sarlacc..."

I simply cannot emphasise simply how good this opening episode is to this second season of the greatest science fiction Western since Firefly. I's a masterful piece of telly, however much the role of the Krayt Dragon may owe to Dune.

And a Western this episode most assuredly is, as the framing of the opening shot, with Mando and Baby Yoda walking towards the camera shows us. As the season opener this episode is quite arc-heavy, and so we're teased, after a superbly effective opening sequence which entertains us wth lots of action while subtly dropping a lot of exposition, with rumours of of another Mandalorian on Tattooine, in the forgotten town of Mos Pelgo. The apparent Mandalorian we see- the Marshal- is of course a red herring, but how did that armour get into the possession of those Jawas from whom he bought it, and who is that mysterious watching figure at the end, played- very interestingly- by Temuera Morrison?

The Marshal is, of course, blatantly a sheriff straight from the tropes of the Western, and to drive the point home he's even played, rather well, by Timothy Olyphant, Seth from Deadwood- and the fact the Weequay barman is played by W. Earl Brown makes this almost a Deadwood mini-reunion.

The plot- the villagers and Tusken Raiders must make common cause and use cunning to slay a massive burrowing dragon (yeah, that bit owes slightly less to Westerns), gives us loads of entertainment while eminding us how much we like our protagonist, whose face is hidden but who shows himself yet again to have surprising depths as a character. And it's a rollicking tale that feels much shorter than it is. 

I love the genre playfulness, too; Mando and the Marshal are set to have a typical Western duel, holsters ready, in the saloon, when the ground begins to shake and the Western is interrupted by a trope from another genre. And there's some nice world building- as soon as the Empire is destroyed at the end of Return of the Jedi, the mining corporation moves in and enslaves everyone. It's Star Wars, but definitely a Western and not fairytale.

Welcome back, The Mandalorian.

Quick Update

 Just bear with me- absolutely zero free time this week so no blog posts. Hoping to be back tomorrow and for normal blogging to resume.

Halloween (1978)

 “You can't kill the Boogeyman!"

At last I find a subtitled version. Hooray. It's about time.

This is, as I kept saying about the early Friday the 13th fims, an absolutely textbook slasher movie, and one of those films which played a big part in setting up the tropes we all know- sex, saying "I'll be right back" and smoking weed (while driving, tut tut) are all hazardous for one's life expectancy although, if you're over twenty, you'll probably be all right.

What separates Halloween from these films is, quite simply, it's much better directed by the splendid John Carpenter and, indeed, much better made. What's different here, as shown in the superb camerawork, music and use of the pumpkin motif, is that this is the first slasher since Psycho that isn't a B movie.It may be a straight-down-the-line slasher, but it's done really well, with the dialogue and acting a cut above what we's expect from the genre. It's slow, and the killing doesn't start until fairly late on, but there's excellent use of suspense, with Michael Myers being glimpsed everywhere.

A very young Jamie Lee Curtis heads a very young cast, while Donald Pleasance is a rather astute piece of casting for Dr Loomis. It's rather jolting seeing him play an American, though, and his accent lapses on occasion. It's interesting, too, to see the use, and meta-commentart, of the 1951 version of The Thing from Another World (must see that at some point) on the telly, given what Carpenter would proceed to shoot a couple of films down the line.

It's a textbook slasher, but it's the textbook slasher, impressing even someone so jaded with the genre as myself.

Melissa Auf Der Maur- Auf Der Maur (2004)

Hole are an awesome band, a seminal band of the '90s, but often  shunned, often frankly for misogynistic reasons. They made three good albums up to 1998 and, well, let's not talk about what happened after that. Courtney Love released an album in 2004 which had a handful of good songs, one of them awesome, but was mostly filler. But it was Melissa Auf Der Maur, the band's still fairly new bassist with a subsequent stint in the Smashing Pumpkins, who surprised us all in the same year with this magnificent record.

I see Auf Der Maur released a subsequent album, way back in 2010, which I simply must hear on the basis of this outstanding debut, which is the only experience I have of her songwriting. There simply isn't a dud on the album, and the style is wonderfully varied. Yes, there are the obvious hits like "Followed the Waves" and "Overpower Thee", but the whole damn thing is a masterpiece. Solo albums are a mixed bag, we all know, and often self-indulgent. But this is one you must hear.

The Crown: Season 3, Episode 8- Dangling Man

 "One doesn't often get a chance to visit a former king. Former kings are usually dead."

An interesting episode here, one that simultaneously looks back to the legacy of the dying Edward VIII and forward to the expected reign of Charles, not less than fifty years in the future as this episode, alongside the new decade, begins. David will not see much of the 1970s.

It is an easy, yet valid criticism here that David's seemingly treasonous behaviour during the War is downplayed. But one cannot criticise the emotional beats, not the performance of Derek Jacobi which is outstanding as ever, as we chronicle the last couple of years of the self-indulgent old fool.

But David is not so much the focus of the episode as awarning of a possible future for Charles, who shows worrying signs of admiration for his great-uncle as well as similar tendencies to meddle, be opinionated, and fail to see the constitutional necessity of suppressing one's opinions- although we should again note that, should Charles not like the requirements of the job, he can always just not do it.

It's fascinating to see the, er, love square between Charles, Anne, and the recently split Camilla Shand and Andrew Parker-Bowles. Anne is delightful here in her chasing and, well, shagging of Parker-Bowles, wittily wrongfooting him into bed and adopting a traditionally male role in bedding a man she rather fancies. Charles, meanwhile, comes across as rather immature at this date with Camilla, at first appearing rather deep with his discussion of Saul Bellow and his line about the state of Prince of Wales being a "predicament" appearing to quote from Alan Bennett's not-yet-written The Madness of King George... only fr this all to be set up to a silly practical joke, That's clever writing, telling us a lot about the character. Josh O'Connor is excellent, and we are again left nervous about our future king.

Elsewhere, Ted Heath is now PM and he's determined to take us into the Eurpean Economic Community: happier times, times of hope, times when Britain looked outward with ambition rather than inwards with a smirk. Yet then, as now, the heir to the throne is a worry. This s good, thoughtful telly.

Roadkill: Episode 3

 "I love your turbulence. It makes people think."

I may, while admiring the craftsmanship of the script, have been a little on the lukewarm side about last episode. Fortunately, and pleasantly, this third episode was full of incident, drama, wit, subtle characterisation and, yes, relataile characters.

We begin with two contrasts. Charmian is, indeed, dead. But we move swiftly to scenes of Peter smoothly speechifying as he leaves hospital. It's then sraight home where an outraged Lily has called a family conference- including environmental activist and Peter's other daughter Susan- to discuss his infidelity. It's a fascinatingly subtle series of scenes. Susan is closer to Peter, yet her politics are so different. And Peter's wife Helen throws him out of the house not for his infidelity but for the damage to her dignity of it becoming known, and her becoming an object of pity. These scenes feel very real.

Then Peter returns to Madeleine (still a surprisingly small role for Sidse Babett Knudsen), and a parallel reckoning as she lets out her own rage at being the other woman, used, never allowed into his life. Peter's personal life has collapsed, and all because of his past action- even before another consequence materialises as his secret daughter Rose, in prison, wants to make contact.

But Peter's secrets are being uncovered, as the barrister slowly pieces things together, ending with possession of the tape containing Charmian's last interview from before she died. The walls are seemingly closing in for Peter. Yet there also seem to be walls closing around the prime minister, and we all know that Peter is in the frame.

The concluding episode looks as though it will certainly ne exciting, but this episode was good fun, full of great dialogue and pithy observations, such as that the UK pretty much only does arms manufacturing, pharma and financial services. This still isn't Edge of Darkness, but it's good telly.

The Crown: Season 3, Episode 7- Moondust

 "Do I need to show symptoms of despair? Should I sigh and moan dramatically?"

The Crown doesn't do bad, of even average episodes: this is a rather well-crafted (and, I admit, performed) character piece for Prince Philip as the Moon landing- the most sublime human achievement ever- acts as the catalyst for a full examination of his mid-life crisis, which everything in this episode points towards.

And yet, while admiring this, I'll admit I find the episode difficult to love. Perhaps its the strong Christian context for Philip's existential angst; he eloquently describes at the end, during his rather effective concluding soloiloquy, how terrible a thing it can be to have faith in God, and lose it. I sympathise and respect that- this atheist is no Richard Dawkins- but, for those of us who were brought up without religion, and have never had any faith to lose, it's all rather abstract. 

Similarly, I'm forty-three but, while I'll not deny life can be stressful working full time while looking after a five year old and caring for a chronically ill wife, there's no mid-life crisis in sight for me. I'll never walk on the moon, but I've worked hard to look after my family. That doesn't make me unusual, but it does mean that, while my achieements are ordinary, I feel unsatisfied with my life so far. It's tempting to see the mid-life ennui of a pampered royal (there's no evidence, of course, that Philip had any such thing) as a decadent indulgence. But, of course, mental health issues can affect anyone, and being privileged does not mean one does not suffer.

But it is, I think, at the end that we reach the underlying point. Philip has just lost his mother, a woman whose faith never wavers. He's an orphan. And that is not a pleasant thought to dwell on for a middle-aged man with parents in their seventies.

Roadkill: Episode 2

 "You think you're too popular to be sacked."

It's odd. There's a lot going on here, the plot is nice and intricate- very  State of Play, still- and there's some nice social commentary, if a bit broad brush, particularly into the Tory psyche. The cast is excellent. But something isn't quite clicking with me, and I'm unsure what.So much happens. Arch-privatiser Peter shows us the other side of his libertarianism with his very sensible thoughts on prison reform (and, privately, drug law reform), but the PM slaps him down. Sensible, humane criminal justice policy may be de rigueur in the rest of Europe but for some reason it's not how Tories, or perhaps even the British as a whole, roll.

We move on to a facinating scene in which Margaret hands some documents to Peter's former barrister- an alternative way of the truth coming out if, as seems possible, Charmian is either dead or incapacitated after being hit by a van following a very interesting and revealing evening in Washington DC. This nicely parallel's Peter's crash at the end when Duncan tells him (having done a swtcheroo of DNA, interestingly) that the myserious young woman in pison is indeed his daughter. Meanwhile, Peter's acknowledged daughter manages to uncover the fact he has a girlfriend and is delightfully pragmatic about the way she handles it.

And there are lots of other little revelations and, indeed, character moments. On the surface it all seems very good, and Hugh Laurie in particular is superb. And yet I'm not sure I feel invested in any of the characters. It's a clever script, but seems more about ideas than people. I'm not sure that should necessarily matter enormously in a political drama, but this seems to be structured, with dramatic beats, as though it should.

Let's see how this goes.