Wolf Hall: Episode 4- The Devil's Spit

"You think I keep you for the charm of your person? I keep you because you are a serpent!"

The King's dejected response to the birth of his daughter is perfect: "Call her Elizabeth. Cancel the jousts." Anne Boleyn is now Queen but under real pressure to produce a son. Power is slipping away from her with every month's delay, and she reacts by lashing out at enemies perceived and real. The "bastard" Princess Mary must become a servant to her daughter. Sir Thomas More and Bishop Fisher have disrespected her, and therefore must die. She is becoming increasingly shrill and unpleasant.

Cromwell is circumspect with her, but notably more distant, and here we have the first vague rumours of affairs.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth Barton is interrogated, compromising many powerful people, many of whom have offended Cromwell by crowing about his "low birth". Chips on shoulders can be very dangerous things. I'm not sure, four episodes in, that this series is quite as good as its reputation, although I may be a little jaded by popular culture's obsession with the reign of Henry VIII to the exclusion of all other English history. But the economy of storytelling, through pithy dialogue and through meaningful silences, impresses.

Cromwell delights, too, in informing More of the oath he will be made to take, an oath that will prove his downfall. This is, of course, revenge; revenge for those of Cromwell's secret persuasion whom More has tortured and killed, including, as we know, a good friend. This is a darker side to Cromwell, much darker, yet Rylance ensures that he still has our sympathies. 

Away from the main plot, we have a disturbing detail: the Duke of Norfolk has a new wife. He "won't leave her alone", and she's a child of fourteen. This is deliberately horrifying, reminding us that much of the world is still like this.

Anton Lesser, whatever I've said in the recent past, is superb here. He cuts a sympathetic person in his willingness to die for his conscience, and Lesser communicates this brilliantly in his delivery of simple, emotive lines like "Will I see my daughter again?" And yet in doing this he abandons his wife and daughters, all of whom have signed the oath, to an uncertain future.

And Cromwell will not let him, or us, forget that this man is a mass torturer and murderer of "heretics".

More's violent death is not directly shown- we cut from his head on the block to "It's the prayer book he had with him at the end"- but he's gone, now. The spotlight turns on Anne, who has miscarried, and now Cromwell appears to be seriously ill...

This is a well-written, acted and directed drama. And yet... a certain spark of greatness seems so far to be missing.

Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981)

"Snakes! Why does it have to be snakes?"

This film still feels fresh thirty years later: not bad for a movie based on the movie serials of the '30s and '40s. What makes it work is that the action never stops, with set piece piled on to exciting set piece and even the exposition scenes being made dramatic. On top of that you have Harrison Ford being, well, himself, Ronald Lacey as the perfect Gestapo baddie and loads of money obviously spent. This is a superb film.

I'm sure many archaeologists would raise an eyebrow at this somewhat glamorous depiction of what they do for a living, of course. Indy is clearly shown to be an academic. Others would raise eyebrows at the spiders, snakes and booby traps galore. The more churlish of us may well raise an eyebrow at the made up mythology if what's supposed to have happened to the Ark, particularly Ethiopians. Personally my own eyebrow is raised a little at the idea of Nazis being so obsessed with such a very Jewish artifact- that must have been awkward for them.

We have all sorts of Indiana Jones tropes here from the start- travelling by map (copyright The Muppets), the action-packed standalone opening sequence and Indy just shoring that bloke who waves a fancy sword at him. It's a brilliant start to s brilliant series. If you haven't seen this, where have you been?

Except, er, Indy doesn't actually accomplish anything, does he? The Ark would have blown up the Nazis whatever happened. Still, at least he gets a nice little Egyptian holiday with some snake-related activities. 

House of 1000 Corpses (2003)

"Whatever you need to do, you do it. There is no wrong. If someone needs to be killed, you kill 'em. That's the way."

Wow. Who says rock musicians can't direct? This film is awesome: a twist on the Texas Chain Saw Massacre genre with a load of awesome directorial flourishes to keep things not only visually interesting. Not only that, but there's a cult cast led by the extraordinary Sid Haig in a great part as Captain Spaulding. But you know what? It's easy to be cynical about a director casting their spouse but, well, the best and creepiest performance here is from Sheri Moon Zombie and her deeply disturbing giggle.

It's a stroke of genius to have a character like Captain Spaulding, too- funny, charismatic but essentially there as both Greek chorus and light relief. But the film succeeds because of the twisted family of grotesque serial killers at the end of it, anchored by Bill Moseley's terrifying Oris. 

It's a tribute to the film to reflect that the pace is quite slow and there isn't much incident, yet you're too busy admiring the twisted set pieces and directorial flourishes to notice. A short but delightfully disturbing film. I'll most certainly be searching out more stuff from the esteemed Mr Zombie.

Doctor Who: The Girl Who Died

"I'm not in the mood for Vikings!"

I already liked this episode a lot when it still seemed to be a fairly low-key tale about a small CGI Viking village against metal aliens with a bit of Doctorish cleverness thrown in. The small stories are often much better than the big epics: give me The Rescue over The Dalek Invasion of Earth any day.

But then there's the twist: the Doctor has saved the day, but poor Ashildr has been killed. She would have died anyway, the whole village would. But the Doctor is consumed with guilt and a sickness of losing too many people, the curse of near-immortality. So he breaks the rules of time travel, just as he did last episode. And Ashildr is immortal which, as The Five Doctors taught us, is a curse. The Doctor instantly regrets what he has done to her; he knows what it's like to bury your loved ones again and again. Has he gone and made a big, terrible mistake?

And so we have an interesting twist on the two-parter: this episode is self-contained, but next week we will be meeting Ashildr again, a thousand years older.

It's a masterfully constructed script, with Jamie Mathieson again excelling; this is possibly the best of the season so far. Maisie Williams (I don't know her; as yet I've only seen one episode of Game of Thrones) is also superb. I can't wait until next week.

So what else? Well, the Doctor's sonic shades are unceremoniously smashed before the pre-titles sequence has even ended. Is this permanent? Clara is again magnificent, almost persuading the baddies to aid off and giving the Doctor a much-needed pep talk. And we actually get a "reversing the polarity of the neutron flow" as Jon Pertwee, er, didn't particularly used to say.

Most interestingly, though, we get an explanation as to why the Doctor now looks like Caecilius from The Fires of Pompeii, and it's actually a satisfying one: the Doctor's subconscious wanted to remind him that, fixed points on time or not, you can still go back and save one person. Nothing bad will happen. Right?

Next week will be interesting. It's starting to be clear what Steven Moffat meant when he said that this season will see a little playing around with what a two-parter is supposed to be.

Jason and the Argonauts (1963)

"The gods of Greece are cruel! In time, all men shall learn to live without them."

This film looks great with its location filming, is a rollicking adventure story, and has a mostly good cast with Honor Blackman as Hera and an outstanding Patrick Troughton as Phineas, although the casting of a middle-aged and weedy-looking Nigel Green as Hercules is somewhat odd. Still, not many films have a special effects person as executive producer: this film is all about the one and only Ray Harryhausen and his stop motion animation, awesome here as always. Everything else is just window dressing, and rightly so.

So we get, at the climax, both a hydra and a phalanx of skeletons. We get a huge statue coming to life and picking up the Argo. We get two winged harpies. These are what the film is about, and they look amazing, far better than modern CGI. And if the myth is amended a little to accommodate all this, then so be it. This is why the film is worth watching.

I'm also pleased to see the inclusion of the gods at Mount Olympus, though: too many films based on Greek myths omit them. This isn't a film that claims to be more than a simple adventure, but it's a pleasingly accurate portrayal of the spirit of the Greek myths and a highly entertaining way to spend an hour or two.

Wolf Hall: Episode 3- Anna Regina

"This is Master Cromwell. He used to be a moneylender. Now he writes all the laws."

It's 1531. The Pope still says no. The King has therefore made himself the head of the Church of England, and Cromwell is front and centre. He's a powerful man, but his religious policies and, especially, his humble origins, have made him enemies. His response is to stick close to Anne, but will she stick close to him?

It's interesting to see Cromwell rejecting superstition; to show this makes him seem modern to the contemporary viewer and reveals how sympathetic we're intended to find the character. And we largely do, mainly because of Mark Rylance's extraordinary acting. We really feel for him when he gets dumped by his lover, especially as said lover is his late wife's sister, and thus a heavy hint that he's still haunted and defined by that awful tragedy.

Less sympathetic is More, happy to torture people in order to "save their souls". I'm happy to see this historically accurate portrayal of him as a dangerous fanatic, sadist and murderer, but I'm still unconvinced by the way Anton Lesser has chosen to play him, as something close to a thug. This sits wrongly, especially in the episode where Anne and Cromwell look down as he resigns as Lord Chancellor. Still, this scene is a nice depiction of how More is moving away from the centres of power as Cromwell moves ever closer, now being a confidant of the King's lover and future Queen. Even a drunken King now seems fond of Cromwell, a man who does his bidding, who came from nothing, who owes all to Henry.

We have a bit of comic relief with Mary Boleyn, whose attraction turns out not to be for Cromwell alone, but the episode ends on an ominous note as Cromwell sees a friend burned at the stake. He is living very, very dangerously.

Once again an excellent piece of telly, and I'm halfway through already.

Wolf Hall: Episode 2- Entirely Beloved

"The Pope will learn his place"

It's December 1529. Cromwell is stubbornly loyal to the doomed Wolsey in spite of the total lack of hope. Wolsey is a tragic, declining figure, and his metaphorical death inevitably translates into a real death before the end of the episode. It's interesting to see how Cromwell re-aligns his allegiances- to his co-religionist Anne Boleyn- without betraying his principles. This is also a sign, of course, of the growing impact of the Reformation in England. More may still be burning heretics, but the King's desire for a divorce that the Pope will never give is a huge opportunity for the Protestant cause, and they know it.

Rylance continues to give us a masterclass in acting, with every gesture and every expression suggesting a depth and interiority. Thomas Cromwell is a fascinating and multi-layered character. Awkward but loving with his son, bold (but not too bold) with his admiring King, this is a man who is humble in his personal life and yet bold, if not foolhardy, when it comes to his beliefs. 

Mark Gatiss' Gardiner is deliciously slimy, although I'm not sure that Anton Lesser gives us a sufficiently principled More. This is the episode where he resigns as Lord Chancellor out of deep principle; I'm not sure that Lesser's playing the part as a blustering hard man quite works.

The episode climaxes with Cromwell's being summoned into the Royal presence in the dead of life. This is the court of Henry VIII, and such a summons can mean death, but no: this is opportunity. Cromwell's interpretation of the King's dream to mean that he, not the Pope, should be head of the Church manages to further both Cromwell's own interests and those of this cause.

Superman (1978)

"I have sent them you, my only son."

This is, perhaps, the first of the current era of superhero films. The 1966 Batman film was a TV tie-in, while all the others were either movie serials or of that world. This film sets a precedent, and at first it looks like being a good one; Superman is, after all, bloody good.

It isn't a good precedent, though, for the simple reason that the film is an origin story. It happens to work here, yes, but it doesn't in general. Origin stories just mean that you spend most of the film without the title character being able to do any of their usual cool stuff. It works here because Superman's origin story is epic and cool, but generally speaking origin stories are to be avoided.

Still, it works here, and the film is superb. Oh, there are flaws- Gene Hackman is miscast, playing Lex Luthor for broad humour rather than the more camp performance the character needed. Luthor six written like a villain from the Batman TV series; he should have been played as such. Also, there's a glaring continuity error. Jor-El tells Kal-El in the Fortress of Solitude that he's been dead for thousands of years. Yet Kal-El took twelve years to reach Earth and he crashed into Kansas, we're told, in 1948. (So Superman is thirty years old.)  Oops. Also, I'm not sure there's any real logic to the way Luthor infers the existence of Kryptonite. Still, it's necessary to the X plot. Oh, and why is Superman so stupid as to tell Lois one of his weaknesses, namely that he can't see through lead, knowing full well that she's going to write a full page article about it?

All that said, though, the film is epic, huge, looks awesome and Christopher Reeve is perfect casting. It's a triumph, and here are some particular nice touches. The film commemorates thirty years of Superman, so the tribute to Action Comics #1 at the start is an extremely nice touch. Also a nice touch is that all the Elders of Krypton have  different symbol on their chests, and Jor-El's just happens to look like an "S" in the Roman alphabet. Also, well, Marlon Brando. Sadly, though, I must confess to my fellow Doctor Who fans that I failed to spot William Russell in these scenes.

Also s nice touch is the young Clark Kent running faster, literally, than a speeding train. These little touches keep us entertained as the film whisks is through Superman's origins and, this being pre- Crisis on Infinite Earths and the film being moderately faithful to the comics, his takes a good long while. 

Interestingly, though, Jor-El says the line "I have sent them you, my only son". This is a blindingly obvious Christ allegory and I'm not sure that's appropriate; Superman was created in 1938, the year of Kristallnacht, by a couple of Jewish nebbishes. The character is, in spirit, Jewish. He's also essentially a liberal wish fulfilment figure: Superman in his early years would go after wife beaters or put Hitler and Stalin on trial. Here, though, he's a resolutely conservative and all-American figure, his liberal, Jewish origins forgotten.

Nothing dates the film so much as the scenes at the Daily Planet, with typewriters everywhere and not a single PC. Metropolis is very obviously New York here: there are trains to Buffalo and Syracuse.

Sadly, the climax to the film is a bit of a letdown; if Superman can just turn back time so that Lois doesn't die then all future dramatic tension is gone. But this is a film that rises above its flaws by dint of simply being awesome. 

There. After loads of Marvel stuff I've finally blogged something by DC!

8½ (1963)

"A writer's block? What if it's not just temporary, my friend? What if it's the final downfall of a liar who has run out of talent."

A single viewing probably isn't enough for me to properly discuss Federico Fellini's magnum opus. Suffice to say it's a beautifully shot and profoundly eloquent film, every shot pregnant with far more meaning than I can adequately discuss here. It's magnificent but, while it is everything I just said, it is by no means a "difficult" film to watch. There is a straightforward narrative in spite of everything.

Guido is a forty-three year old film director, like Fellini himself, and the assumption must be that the character is a self-portrait. This is interesting, as the character suffers from a profound writers block which he cannot overcome, ultimately leading, after much angst, to an expensive, abandoned failure. This is, of course, the underlying anxiety of all artists. But there is, I think, more, an ennui and existential angst, mixed with mid-life crisis, that seems very appropriate to the early '60s.

I wonder if Fellini has a similar difficult relationship with his wife? And, of so, if her reaction to the film on seeing it was the same as the fictional Luisa?

There are many dream sequences (one of which involves a harem of showgirls, and a whip!), all of which are deliberately shot so as not to be straightforwardly separated from the main narrative. Delightfully metatextual games are also played: I love the character of the critic. Not only does Fellini get to use the character to anticipate any and all criticism but he skewers the worst sort of critic quite delightfully.

Not exactly light viewing, this, but extremely rewarding. I recommend it hugely.

Doctor Who: Before the Flood

"My first proper alien, and he's an idiot!"

So perhaps this second episode doesn't quite maintain the superlative quality of its excellent predecessor. Ah well. No criticism implied, really: they don't, as a whole, for narrative reasons. Second parts are functional. Plot, plot, plot. There's less time for atmosphere, set pieces, witty lines, coolness. And this episode suffers from that, as second episodes always do. But it still rounds out a superb two parter. Well done, Toby Whithouse. This is by some distance the best Who you've ever done. It's also the one where you've played the most with structure and timey-wimeyness. These two facts are connected.

The pre-titles, in which the Doctor does a bit of violence to the fourth wall, is a nice example of the latter. There are slight grounds for criticism here, perhaps, in that the Bootstrap Paradox ("Google it") isn't much of a big deal to anyone who's sci-fi literate, and doesn't justify such a big build-up. Also, isn't it all a bit Back to the Future II? But we should remember that this is a popular BBC drama aimed at a general audience.

No; if we are to criticise, we should start by conceding the point that this is a superb forty-five minutes of television, but then ask ourselves at whom it is aimed. The plot is complex, and asks a lot of its audience. Is it, perhaps, too complex for kids? I note that it was broadcast at 8.25pm: scheduling like this is clearly not done with children's bedtimes in mind. I, for one, am loving this season, and loved the last. They are probably the best seasons, for me, since 2005. But should people like me really be the target audience.

Whatever. I've said these things before and the final ratings and AI figures have always proved me wrong. If it can ultimately be shown that this season's apparent drop in viewers reflects something more than changes in how television is watched these days then it'll be time to worry. And "worry" is relative. Doctor Who is and remains a BBC flagship. Don't worry about ratings. Perhaps you should worry about John Whittingdale, but that's for another day.

So, what else? It's a surprisingly small part for Paul Kaye, although amusing. I noticed Corey Taylor's roar, at last a little something for us metalhead fans. It looks like the guitar is here as a recurring prop, Peter Capaldi's version of Troughton's recorder. Oh, and McDonnell's mention of the "Minister of War" is clearly seeding something for later in the season.

Bottom line: another excellent episode. Doctor Who is still in the midst of its current golden age. And next week looks good. Is it me, though, but isn't there an awful lot of talk of certain death between the Doctor and Clara? We know Clara is leaving: is her death being foreshadowed?

Wolf Hall: Episode 1- Three Card Trick

"Never mind who that is. It's nobody."

So, how many different TV series am I blogging at the moment? Anyway, here's another one.

It's somewhat odd watching this so relatively soon after I blogged The Tudors, covering roughly the same historical period and therefore consisting of much the same event and the same characters portrayed by a different cast. There are significant differences, though. This is no melodrama but a serious adaptation of two works of literary fiction, and there's a more realistic attitude to sets and costume, and a. much artier directorial style. The use of candlelight for the indoor scenes is particularly superb.

This episode, centred on the beginning of Wolsey's fall but using extensively non-linear storytelling to make heavy use of flashbacks, introduces us to both Thomas Cronwell the fascinatingly nuanced character and to Mark Rylance, an actor of the very first rank who rarely deigns to appear on screen. He's every bit as good here as his theatrical reputation. Other stand-outs are a world-weary Jonathan Pryce as Wolsey and a delightfully sinister Mark Gatiss as Stephen Gardiner.

There's a lot of emphasis on class, Cromwell's humble beginnings and his lack of nobility- we even meet his abusive and very working class father. Indeed, it is Wolsey's earlier snobbery towards the Boleyn family that ultimately causes his downfall, or so it is strongly implied, although on the other hand we also get a rather handy bit of exposition from Gardiner about Charles V's Habsburg hordes marching on Rome to make the Pope their bitch, ensuring Henry VIII has sod all chance of divorcing Charles' aunt.

I'm sure this theme will continue to develop, as well as the obvious theme of the upcoming English Reformation. Cromwell's Protestant leanings are hidden for now; the irony of his being so loyal to the Cardinal is, I'm sure, not lost on a single viewer.

The main "event" of the episode is, of course, the sudden and horrible death of Cromwell's wife and two daughters from the sweating sickness. This is shot and acted in order to give us maximum sympathy for Cromwell. I hope none of us ever have to imagine such suffering. It's a superb sequence of scenes.

Things end on an uncertain note. Wolsey is, of course, finished, but has Cromwrll somehow saved his career by impressing the King by some intelligent cheekines? We shall see how it happens. But what is certain is that this promises to be a very impressive little series.

The Madness of King George (1994)

"We consider ourselves blessed in our constitution. We tell ourselves our Parliament is the envy of the world. But we live in the health and well-being of the sovereign as much as any vizier does the Sultan."

This is scripted by the great Alan Bennett and stars the great Nigel Hawthorne (who, sadly, only graduated from the excellent Yes, Minister to a glorious film career at the end of his life), so obviously it's superb. It's as historically accurate as it's sensible for a play-cum-film to be (Alan Bennett did this period when he read History at Oxford, you know), full of heart, and funny. Cyril Shaps' poo-obsessed doctor is a particular delight.

We begin with a few scenes establishing where we are. Greville, the King's new equerry, is our POV as an audience, and we establish what the King is like as a person- pretty damn eccentric, what what? This is essential: before he goes mad, we need to see what he's like when he's sane. We also see his loving (but probably sexless) relationship with the Queen, his traditional Hanoverian hostility to the profligate and indolent Prince of Wales, and the political context of all this. Cold fish and budding alcoholic Pitt the Younger relies on the King's survival and sanity for his career and that of his faction of Whigs. If the King is replaced by Prince George as Prince Regent, then Charles James Fox is waiting in the wings with a somewhat more radical bunch of Whigs, which could mean a load of extremist nonsense like the abolition of slavery. Heavens above.

(The Tories are, incidentally, in no position to form a government: it was they who lost America and they will be out of contention for a generation.)

It is, of course, as popular culture always shows us, extremely dull at the court of George III. Versailles this is not. Nor, thank heavens, is it the awful Brighton Pavilion. But things soon become interesting as the King's behaviour takes a turn for the bizarre.

The film concerns the progress of his madness- mercifully brief, this being his first lapse in 1788: he would not recover, alas, from another attack in 1810, long after the film ends. The film seems to adopt the prevailing theory that the King's malady was, in fact, porphyria. A caption at the end reminds us that this is hereditary. Ha!

The meat of the film consists of the battle of wills between the King and Dr Willis, a man who is now able to exercise his authority over no less than a King ("No, Sir! You are the patient!"), if only for a little while. The Prince Regent will not have his way. Yet.

These scenes are fantastic, but the whole film is so damn watchable. It's brilliant. I mean, it's Alan Bennett. Just go and watch it now.

The Man Who Would Be King (1975)

"And now the woman's of Er-Heb will cut his bollocks off. Ha ha!"

Let's deal with the elephant in the room first: is this film racist?

First, let's consider that this is an adaptation of a story written in 1888 by Rudyard Kipling, and we can therefore expect a bit of raving imperialism which can't fail to be transferred to any adaptation.

Secondly, let's consider that there are two stupid answers to the question: "yes" and "no". These answers betray the mindset that thinks there are only two types of people in the world- outright Nazis and people "without a racist bone on their bodies". That's what's implied by any question that asks us to rule on whether something is either racist or "not racist" whereas, in fact, 99.99% of us fall between these poles. Personally, I'm a Guardian-reading liberal type who abhors racism, but I wouldn't dream of claiming that I "haven't got a racist none in my body". How could I possibly know that? There could be all sorts of unexamined racist assumptions hidden somewhere in my subconscious. They're unexamined. That's the point.

So let's just briefly note that the original source text, given the author, the subject matter and the setting, can hardly fail to display both racist attitudes and a voyeuristic othering of people from other cultures. Let's also briefly note that, being integral to the plot, these things are inevitably transferred to this film adaptation. Also, 1975 is an age ago in terms of attitudes to race- a film like this would never be made today- and both India and Kafiristan are presented as an exotic "other", not on their own terms. But let us also remember the context. Past attitudes are what they are. This film was less racist in the context of 1975 than it would be if made today.

So let's talk about things that are more interesting. Such a show unusual it is for John Ford to direct a film like this, how amazing the location filming looks, or how Sean Connery's Scottish accent jars somewhat with dialogue clearly written with a voice from south of the border in mind.

Also interesting is that Kafiristan was a real place, called this by its Muslim neighbours as it was the only pagan part of Afghanistan, and thus mysterious and unique, at the time Kipling wrote his original story. Sadly, though, it was converted en masse during the 1890s and is now called Nuristan. Isn't the onward march of conformity a depressing thing?

But what of the film? Well, it's superb: gripping, great to look at and full of incident and deeply charismatic performances, not least from its stars Sean Connery and Michael Caine but also from Saeed Jaffrey, whose superb comic timing helps to partly hide the vaguely racist undertones of the character he's playing.

The emphasis on freemasonry is... odd, and doesn't give us an entirely sympathetic portrayal of Kipling. Interesting. But this is ultimately a classic tragedy, where Danny is brought down utterly by his hubris and Peachy brought down low by his own relative hubris. As a tale, and as a film, it is superb. 

if... (1968)

"Paradise is for the blessed. Not the sex-obsessed."

I wasn't privileged/unfortunate enough to go to a public school myself, being far too common: not for me the delights of fagging, chapel, cadets and assorted bizarre traditions. Most of what I know of the big public schools comes from Stephen Fry's Moab Is My Washpot, a certain episode of Ripping Yarns and, yes, this film. No doubt this gives me an entirely realistic impression.

The film is a triumph of direction, of the riveting central performance of Malcolm McDowell, and of the dreamlike, searing anger of the film. And yes, that's an unusual combination. 

We begin with introductions to the school, its arcane traditions, its loathsome "whips", corporal punishment, hypocritical staff, and the fact that new boys are called "scummy". It's a harsh introduction to a harsh life for kids who are already having to cope with the brutal separation from their families. What sort of parent can do that to s child? Worse, what sort of parents can do that to a child on full knowledge of what it must feel like? One can understand why ex-public schoolboys are often so repressed, cold and weird. Privilege comes at the cost of devastating psychological trauma. That's how we do things on this country. Lovely.

Of course, this being a closed environment with little in the way of oestrogen, the inevitable homoeroticism is simply accepted. Boys are accused by other boys of "tarting". Teachers are either soulless authoritarians or deeply eccentric. It's all profoundly weird.

Into all this comes Mick Travis, a decidedly not-very-'60s rebel, obsessed with war. We see a number of his brushes with authority and two big dream sequences. The first of these sees him and his mate nick a motorbike (without consequences) after which he proceeds to get his end away. The second consists of his shooting  loads of people.

At least, I assume this last bit is a dream sequence. It's certainly shocking to see, especially given recent events in Oregon, Connecticut, and other places which fetishise the "right" to bear arms.

All the boys we see are damaged, profoundly weird and entirely unable to interact with other human beings in a natural way. Travis is no worse than many, especially not the tyrannical "whips".

This is a brilliant, brilliant film which skewers public school culture superbly while also benefiting from some delightfully arty direction. One of the best films of the '60s and a film that simply could not have been made in any other year.

Doctor Who: Under the Lake

"Two weeks of "Mysterious Girl" by Peter Andre- I was begging for the brush of Death's merciful hand."

The obvious point to make about this two-parter, from what we've seen so far, is that it seems to be playing interesting structural games with the two parter format- the first episode is set in the later time period and the second in an earlier period, meaning that the first episode sets up a puzzle to be solved by the second. In other words, the two halves of the story are in different time zones: sort of The Ark in reverse.

The less obvious point, though, is how resolutely traditional this episode feels: a base under siege with all the narrative short cuts that implies and, brilliantly, the first time since the series came back in 2005 that we've had a proper, old-fashioned, first episode which has time to breathe, explore the environment the TARDIS lands in and set up the mystery. I suspect that this, as much as the structural playing, may have been the original aim of Toby Whithouse in writing this. This may be a deeply and exaggeratedly traditional episode of Who, but it also manages to lovingly deconstruct traditional Who in doing so. The Doctor can hardly help pointing out all the tropes of the base-under-siege story he finds himself in. I love this sort of metatextual fun.

Oh, and it's also the scariest episode in yonks.

Other positives: not only do we have a deaf character, whose first language is BSL, but she's in charge. The script is delightfully witty, and the chemistry between the Doctor and Clara is perfect; I love the bit with the cue cards! The ghosts look brilliant- oh, and one of them is a Tivoli, one of whom was played by David Walliams in The God Complex. And the cliffhanger is brilliant.

I'll refrain from praising this too highly until I've seen the second episode- this feels like half of a puzzle- but so far I'm very, very impressed.

Class

So: new Doctor Who spinoff on BBC 3. Personally I'm excited to see what happens. We know little at this stage, but one thing is for sure: it's a huge sign of the confidence the BBC has in the programme that a spin-off should happen in the current climate.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/blogs/doctorwho/entries/953c5b1f-3cc8-4db9-8184-f1b6567260f1

What do we all reckon?

The Latest Doctor Who Pubcast

This month we have some of our interviews with guests at the splendid Whooverville event last month...

http://dwpubcast.podomatic.com/entry/2015-10-01T11_46_55-07_00

Countess Dracula (1971)

"Countess Dracula! Countess Dracula!"

Meh. I like me a good Hammer, but this is the most forgettable sort of early '70s stuff. Doing a film based on the notorious Elizabeth Bathory is not a bad idea in theory but the plot is perfunctory, the script tired and Ingrid Pitt, wonderful though she is, doesn't have the charisma to carry a film otherwise full of nonentities, excepting the ever-fab Peter Jeffrey in a minor role and some delightful scenery chewing from Maurice Denham. Overall, it's a Hammer worth skipping. Even the title is crowbarred in.

Any interesting points? Well, the costumes look good, and no doubt are accurate for early 17th century Hungary. The history is a bit off: Elizabeth Bathory was active as a serial killer between 1590 and 1610 (a much longer period!!!) but the film, with Turks encroaching on Vienna, seems to be set in the 1680s. And, of course, whereas the real Bathory may not have committed the murders to stay young at all, in the film she is actually rejuvenated. But beyond that and an incongruous bit of bawdiness with boobies in the tavern (the real world has pubs; cinematic Central Europe has "taverns") there's not much to say about it.

Next!

Battle of Britain (1969)

"So don't threaten or dictate to us until you're marching up Whitehall. And even then we won't listen."

Well, that was strangely underwhelming. I'm British. I hate the Nazis. The real, historical Battle of Britain puts fire in my belly. So why is it that this film leaves my belly distinctly cold?

What's especially surprising about this is that the film has an extraordinary cast- Lawrence Olivier is particularly superb as the drily realistic Hugh Dowding. Yet none of the characters have enough screen time, or are sufficiently fleshed out, to make a difference. Michael Caine, in particular, is wasted on a role that doesn't give him anything to do and then suddenly killed off. The only exception to all this is Curd Jurgens' charismatic general, and he's a bloody Nazi. Still, at least Ralph Richardson gets a magnificent speech in his cameo.

It must be said, too, that this film is a little deceptive in implying that Britain would have been finished if it had lost the Battle of Britain. It wouldn't. Just Google "Operation Sealion" for why. Large parts of the country are out of German bombers' air range, for a start, and there's the entire Home Fleet waiting at Scapa Flow, in an age where accurate bombing of ships was simply not a thing.

There are a couple of nice moments- I like the bit where German POWs are made to clear up their own mess- but sadly this is a film that fails to raise my patriotic heckles. A slow, meandering missed opportunity.

Daredevil: World on Fire

"Could be the machines plotting, but I don't speak computer overlord..."

At last. Five episodes in and Daredevil clicks for me. I get the programme, I get the characters and I'm enjoying the ride. And yes, the fact that this is a superb hour of television certainly helps. I knew I was right to have faith and stick with it.

The episode is structured around three budding relationships, all very different in terms of wealth and terms of the morals of the three men. Our first couple- and, indeed, the least dwelt on- is Matt and Claire. Here we have no date, but an admission both that she's falling in love with him and that she has grave concerns both about the ethics of what he dies and, of course, his safety. They kiss. She's living with him. But there's some discomfort there. That's to continue in future episodes, though: the rest of this episode consists of Karen slowly falling in love with Foggy because he is, simply, a good man with integrity beneath the self-deprecating quips. Vanessa, in direct contrast, consents to a relationship with Fisk (there is no talk of love here) in full knowledge that what he does is morally murky, to say the least, that he had hurt and killed before, and he will hurt and kill again. 

Fisk, incidentally, is not himself right at the top of the food chain by himself: he is, it seems, one of a consortium of four, all of which we will no doubt come to know further. He is powerful nonetheless, though: in the episodes most disturbing scene a criminal gives his name to the cops and is simply killed by them, making it look like self defence. That's how far Fisk's tentacles can cover.

Foggy, though, gets a contrasting scene where he gets the better of his opponent's lawyer, from a fancy law firm, utterly devoid of ethics and, if all that wasn't enough, his ex. I'm sure Karen thought he was awesome. I know I did.

The two respective dates are a blatant contrast- Karen and Foggy in the tiny, ruined apartment of a poor but grateful client; Fisk and Vanessa in the most opulent surroundings imaginable. But one is about real attraction and the blossoming of real love, whereas the other is all about the lure of the "bad boy" and the seductiveness of power. Still, the scenes with Vanessa and Fisk are truly electrifying.

This is a masterful exercise of structure, theme, characterisation and dialogue. Superb. Quite the cliffhanger too...

Doctor Who: The Witch's Familiar

"So... anyone for dodgems?"

Wow. That was unbelievably good, and indisputably the first truly epic Dalek story of the twenty-first century. I suppose I still have concerns about how the general viewer is going to react to a direct sequel to a story from 1975 but, dammit, this is one exquisitely written, made and acted work of art. The Moff has done it again, and as for Julian Bleach's extraordinary performance... there are no words.

We begin with a delightfully metatextual sequence. We all know (er, in spite of what I said last week) that Missy and Clara are not really dead, so we begin with them, after a nifty bit of upside down camerawork from Clara's POV. Missy has control of the tied-up Clara, which symbolises the fact (see the title) that she has control of the narrative, particularly here but also throughout: Missy is a character not limited by the rules of the text, and delights in finding holes in Moffat's plot. She is also, of course, a delightful unreliable narrator. Oh, and Michelle Gomez? Best. Master. Ever.

The Doctor, by contrast, doesn't have control of the narrative, as Missy does: the scene at the end where Missy almost tricks him into killing Clara is mostly there to emphasise that. He doesn't know, as we, the audience, know, that Clara is alive, and duly pulls a gun on the Daleks in a clear shout-out to Resurrection of the Daleks. He still gets to be cool, though. That's what all the fun with Davros' chair is there for. Personally, I love the cup of tea.

Oh, and I love the questioning of whether or not the Doctor ever uses weapons. I know I always bang on about it, but this whole thing with his never using them as a matter of principle is quite recent. Pertwee used to shoot Ogrons all the time. Go back and look. It's simply that he refuses to carry one himself. All the cool people do.

It's a delight to see the peerless imagination of Steven Moffat let loose on the planet Skaro, so much described in all those weird '70s Dalek books and annuals. His contribution- elderly Daleks that can't die of old age but that simply ooze angrily in the sewers- is über cool. It is also, of course, a nicely placed plot point, like Raymond Chandler's revolver.

That's not the coolest thing he does with Skaro, though. That would be Davros' line about the effort he went to in order to get the Doctor "the only other chair on Skaro". Metatextual, again. I'm loving this.

The best thing about the episode, though, and where it is an exact thematic sequel to Genesis of the Daleks, is the whole extraordinary conversation between Davros and the Doctor, in which each word is loaded with weight and significance. It begins with Davros explaining that the cables are in fact a conduit for the Daleks, motivated by a filial respect which Davros calls a "defect", to nourish Davros with part of their life force. This process could be reversed to drain energy from the Daleks: once again the Doctor is handed the option of genocide: this couldn't be a more blatant reference. Once again, of course, he doesn't directly take it while, quietly, also masterminding their being hoist into extinction by their own metaphorical petard. The ethical distinction is important to him.

(And yes, I know the Daleks will be back, but my point still stands.)

Meanwhile, Missy and Clara are escaping by means of Clara homaging Ian in The Daleks, except here we have 50 years of Dalek behaviour thematically distilled through the device of having the Dalek change the words Clara says. Firstly, having Clara inside a Dalek in this way can only be a deliberate bit of body horror in harking back to Asylum of the Daleks and poor Oswin. Secondly, as explained by Missy (mistress of the narrative, remember?): while Cybermen repress their emotions utterly, the Daleks don't. They are very emotional indeed. And they channel that emotion into hate. And their guns.

But the more interesting stuff is still on that cosy chat between Davros and the Doctor. I'm not sure that stuff about why the Doctor really left Gallifrey really works, especially as there is never any real risk of this Dalek-Gallifreyan hybrid actually amounting to anything, but we can explain that as Davros' hubris. That wasn't why he left Gallifrey at all. Still, Davros is right to say that just being "bored" doesn't cut it. Future story arc once Gallifrey is found, perhaps?

More interesting is that Davros is genuinely pleased for the Doctor that Gallifrey survives: for this old racist, no man should be without his ethnic fellows. It's both perversely touching and a significant yet appropriate deepening of Davros' and the Doctor's relationship. Also, Julian Bleach is amaaaaazing.

Oh, and then Moffat goes and deepens the thematic depth (or "semiotic thickness" as we old fans like to say) by having Davros parallel the current Doctor's own "Am I a good man?". I don't care that this is more artful structure than actual thematic depth. It's awfully clever.

Speaking of clever, Davros cleverly uses the Doctor's compassion against him but, of course, the Doctor is cleverer, by means of Raymond Chandler's pistol, which we discussed earlier. But none of this lessens the pathos of the Doctor's concern that the ostensibly dying Davros should live just long enough to see another sunrise. And, if that's not enough, we learn the true context of last episode's cliffhanger: the Doctor goes back to save the young Davros.

Look; I'm prejudiced against "epic" Doctor Who stories. They promise much, and tend to deliver lots of bangs and very little real content. None of my favourite stories are epics.

Until today.

Neighbours (1920)

This is only my second foray into silent comedy and, a couple of programmes presented by Paul Merton which I saw many years ago aside, my first experience of the great Buster Keaton. I've no idea whether this film is particularly well-regarded or not: I just happened to see it.

This is very much like a Warner Brothers cartoon, or rather Warner Brothers cartoons are very much like this: the laws of physics are very much the same, and trees even a company called Acme. I very much get the sense, though, that behind the humour lies the harshness of life for the have-nots of the early twentieth century. The physical comedy is masterful: Keaton himself is a comic genius, and the slapstick is awesomely choreographed and arranged. I can see why, on this evidence, that visual comedy has never reached these heights since the advent of sound.

And yet.. this sort of humour isn't really my thing. Still, I'll try a few more silent comedies before I write them off.

Dr. Phibes Rises Again (1972)

"What kind of fiend are you?"

"The kind that wins, my friend."

What a disappointing sequel, especially as The Abominable Dr. Phibes was so damned entertaining. How can what is pretty much the same bunch of people come up with such a desperately disappointing follow-up?

Part of the problem is that the set-up is not so much fun- instead of a series of amusingly outre murders we get a plan to use Egyptian mumbo-jumbo to rejuvenate the good doctor and his wife- yes, undiscovered ancient secrets in an early '70s film. Erik von Daniken, anyone? There's a trope for you right there.

On top of this the celebrity cameos are dull. Yes, the splendid Beryl Reid gets to chew the scenery for her brief scene, but Peter Cushing (prominently billed) gets a dull and functional cameo role. Still, at least we get to see a young John Thaw being horrifically killed.

The relationship between Peter Jeffrey's  Inspector Trout and his apoplectic boss, so funny in the previous film, is taken too far here- why should a police superintendent follow one of his inspectors on a jaunt to Egypt?

I suppose there area couple of entertainingly grossly deaths, the best of which involves scorpions, but this really is a film that can safely be avoided.

Lawrence of Arabia (1962)

"No Arab loves the desert. We love water and green trees."

I was expecting to write about Syria, Iraq and the current turmoil in these countries, partially under the yoke of the so-called Islamic State. But I'm not going to. Sykes-Picot gets a cursory mention, there's a definite implication, not dwelt on, that Britain and France are going to end all hope of an independent Arab state, yes. But that's not what it's about. This is a film about soldiers, not politicians, about T.E. Lawrence as a man, and about how David Lean's camera, like a certain type of Englishman, loves the desert.

Why, there are even a couple of crowd scenes where you can actually catch a glimpse of a woman or two. I think. This has to be, by a large margin, the most oestrogen-deficient film I've ever seen.

So what if Lawrence? We begin, in a nice bit of structure, with his death in s motorbike crash in 1935, and we hear from various characters, whom we will encounter later, at his push Westminster Abbey funeral. Our impressions from this are that Lawrence, while capable of great things, was hard to know and just bloody weird. The rest of the film does nothing to dispel that.

Peter O'Toole puts in a truly great performance of a personality so nuanced it can only be real. Lawrence's peculiar type of masochism and obvious homoeroticism are shown, not told. This is clearly a sexual orientation that can only be described as "public schoolboy". This is the inevitable result of fagging, boarding, cold showers and regular savaging by the school leopard. But I think there's a tension here between modern psychological understanding of mental conditions and the literary abs epic tradition of heroism.

Omar Sharif, too, is awesome. So is Alec Guinness is, too, but he's also, er, white. Now, it's easier not to be racist in 2015 than in 1962 when popular culture largely confined practices that make us squirm, but that's not to say we can quite let them off the hook. Still, let's not dwell on that. Let us instead observe that a white actor in a sea of real Arabs stands out rather awkwardly. 

Still, that's not enough to prevent the film being awesome; the epic desert landscapes alone see to that. This is a truly epic film- with an intermission!- and one of the finest ever made. It's also the longest I've ever blogged.

Doctor Who: The Magician's Apprentice

"Pardon my sci-fi..."

Well, there's me floored. At last Steven Moffat, in what is possibly his last full season as showrunner, writes a proper, epic Dalek story. Awesomely. And... I really wouldn't be surprised if Clara turns out to be actually, irreversibly dead. We know she leaves at some point during the season, and it would be just like Moffat to unexpectedly have her not leave after all in Last Christmas and then just kill her off in the next episode.

Anyway.. we begin on ancient Skaro, in the trenches outside the Kaled citadel, only we have CGI now, unlike in 1975 when they did Genesis of the Daleks, so we can now have biplanes firing laser beams and hand mines with actual hands, with eyes in them. Bit scary for the little ones, that, and part of me worries if all this continuity may perhaps alienate the casual viewer, but let's go with it. How long, I wonder, until someone does a version of Episode One of Genesis where Harry stands on a hand mine?

I knew the boy was Davros before we were told- what other dramatic purpose to the appearance of a little boy in No Man's Land could there have been? And, of course, I knew that the Doctor wouldn't save him, and would be ashamed. It's awfully clever of Moffat, later in the episode, to have Davros play a clip of the Fourth Doctor's musings to Davros in the ethics of killing a child who would grow up to be a murderer. Nice foreshadowing of the cliffhanger, too.

Colony Sarff is an awfully cool idea: a colony of CGI snakes in, as the Doctor later says, a dress. Sarff is essentially used to drive forward the plot by telling us that a dying Davros is looking for the Doctor, who is missing. We also get nice, nostalgic cameos from the Shadow Proclamation and assorted moderately old monsters. But by the time we get to the Sisterhood of Karn I again wonder how the casual viewer would take all this continuity. Yes, it's done well- this is good writing, not Attack of the Cybermen- but I somehow suspect that the next showrunner may react against all this dense reliance on the show's own mythology.

Anyway, Clara and Missy are on the trail, but not without some fascinating little character moments for them. Clara not only pretty much behaves like the Doctor in her approach to the mystery of the suspended planes, but is actually treated in the same way as the Doctor by UNIT. Here is a companion with nowhere further to grow.

Missy is her delightfully witty, evil old self, of course, casually refusing to explain how she somehow isn't dead, an old Anthony Ainley tradition done in a delightfully metatextual way by Steven Moffat. Fascinatingly, it is her, not Clara, to whom the Doctor has sent his "confession dial", traditionally sent by Time Lords to their closest friends on the eve of their death. Never more has hers and the Doctor's fascinatingly ambiguous relationship been proved and explored in some fascinating dialogue.

The Doctor's eventual entrance is, of course, awesome, but it isn't long until the trio are teleported by the Colony to the hospital on a space station where Davros is spending his final hours. The conversation between the Doctor and his archenemy Davros (Missy's reaction to the Doctor's use of the word is priceless) is electrifying. This story is, in several different ways, a kind of sequel to Genesis of the Daleks.

Moffat, having explored the characterisations of most of the recurring characters in Doctor Who, finally turns to Davros' own psyche. (Although, I fear, the canonicity of the I, Davros audios may be in danger.)

The big reveal, of course, is that they're not on space at all but on a hidden, reconstituted Skaro, with a landscape that recalls Destiny of the Daleks and an awesome modern riff of the Dalek city. I notice, also, that we get Daleks from all eras, which is well cool. It looks as though the cliffhanger is going to be Missy offering to show them how to use the TARDIS but no- they quickly and shockingly just kill her, and then destroy the Ship. I just hope the Doctor remembered to set the HADS.

What happens next is slower, agonisingly so, as Davros verbally teases the Doctor with the inevitability of Clara's death. But, inexorably, killed she most certainly is. And that still isn't even the cliffhanger.

No- the cliffhanger is the Doctor crossing his own time stream (naughty) and seemingly about to kill Davros as a boy...

I can't pass final judgement yet, really: this was an episode of set-up, albeit awesome set-up. But I'm buzzing. Oh yes, I'm buzzing.

Finally... this is my first live episode of Doctor Who since becoming a father. So what did Little Miss Llamastrangler (seven months) think of it? Er, she didn't really notice it was on.

Game of Thrones: Season 1, Episode 1 ("Winter is Coming")

"Do the dead frighten you?"

Doctor Who starts again tomorrow. Yay! And I'm blogging so many other series at the moment, some at an embarrassingly slow pace- Sherlock, Marvel's Agents of SHIELD, Marvel's Agent Carter, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, Grimm, the Quatermass serials, Daredevil, and Penny Dreadful. There's nothing else for it: I'm going to have to start blogging another long-running series.

A few words before we start: you know that feeling of missing out on an important piece of popular culture by not being there at the start? And then, year by year, the season's roll along and there are more and more episodes to catch up on. And yet... how can I call myself a geek if I don't at least make an effort with Game of Thrones? Breaking Bad can wait. Especially as the first episode features a beheading, incestuous sex and a dwarf receiving a blow job.

I start out almost completely unspoiled; I'm trying to read the novels at the same pace to see how things diverge, but at this point I know nothing except the "red wedding", a massacre of unknown characters at someone's nuptials which I know will occur at some point. I also know that it's loosely based on the Wars of the Roses and will be looking for signs of this. Other than that I know nothing. So let's start.

It's an HBO show, so we can expect quality, and it certainly looks awesome. The cast is impressive, too: there are only so many tags at the bottom there and I've not been able to include the likes of Roger Allam or Donald Sumpter.

We are in the land of Westeros, ruled by a King Robert I. This land looks like mediaeval Europe and peoples' names are almost, but not quite, English. We begin in the northernmost province of Winterfell, ruled over by Lord Eddard Stark, played by Sean Bean in his native Yorkshire accent. It's a nice conceit, done consistently, to have the "southern" characters speak RP while the northerners speak in such a way as to make it very clear that this planet has a North.

We're clearly meant to feel that ominous tidings are afoot. Demonic and undead creatures are seen at the northern edge of the world, while Eddard Stark keeps banging on about the fact that "Winter is coming" which, I suspect, is meant to be both literal and metaphorical.

Plotting and skulduggery is rife at court, with the king's "hand" having recently been murdered, probably by Queen Cersei's brothers, Jaime Lannister and Teyin Lannister who is, incidentally, a dwarf (a short human, not the bearded, digging kind), and received said blow job. The king (and entourage) this visits Eddard to offer him the position, which he eventually accepts in the full knowledge that he is headed into a pit of vipers. 

He certainly has: Eddard's younger son Bran, seeing Cersei and Jaime, who are twins, shagging each other, is suddenly defenestrated to death, which is not a phrase I've ever had previous cause to use.

Meanwhile, across the sea, Luke's Prince Viseys, who also claims the throne. He's a thoroughgoing bastard, and we are most certainly meant to think so: his first act in the programme is to force his sister to marry a brutal and lecherous warlord.

This is pretty faithful to the novel, looks good and is very fast moving. I'll need a while to get to know the characters but this is a promising start.

The Stepford Wives (2004)

"And I'm gonna attach a pine cone to my vibrator and have a very merry Christmas."

Before anyone says anything... no, I don't blog remakes of films I've not already blogged. But this isn't a remake, just the second cinematic adaptation of a novel. Right? Right.

The critics didn't like this film. Frank Oz directed, and vilified he was. Stick to playing Yoda, he should. Or that was the general gist.

I can see why purists would be put off: this is hardly a faithful adaptation. A gay couple is rightfully included, in a bid to modern sensibilities. And the brainwashing of the Stepford womenfolk is no longer left as a creepy mystery but explained in detail, with Glenn Close's Claire (gosh, a woman!!!) behind it all, and to top it all off the film has a distinctly comedic tone.

But if you judge the film for what it is- a satirical comedy- instead of what it isn't- serious, hard sci-fi adaptation- it becomes rather enjoyable. Nicole Kidman, not usually my favourite actress by any means, is great, although of course completely overshadowed by the great Bette Midler. The script is laugh out loud funny. The skewering of reality TV at the start is delicious. There's even a robot dog, for crying out loud. What's not to like?

Try it. You might like it.

Planet of the Apes (1968)

"The vet's going to geld him."

Wow. I know this film is famous, but I wasn't expecting it to be so good. So good, in fact, that I'm going to ignore the awkward fact that all the apes speak English. I can be nice that way.

The opening of the film both sets up the premise and gives us a bit of misdirection; we expect the film to be about Taylor and the two surviving crew members, but in fact they both die early on- Dodge first, of course. We expect this: he's black.

Our three astronauts have travelled in an interstellar craft to another star system, it seems. Incredibly from our vantage point we have dialogue establishing that they're from the twentieth century: Landon graduated in the "class of '72". Still, although only eighteen months have passed for the crew, time dilation now means that the year is now 3978. Everything and everyone they ever knew or lived is dead, as Taylor delights in telling his crewmates.

I had to raise an eyebrow that the female character was essentially put there to be a brood mate(!), but both the set-up and the establishment of world are good. Taylor is a fascinatingly nuanced character, a cynic on the surface but with some high ideals hidden deep down.The real depths of his character are a real credit both to the script and to Charlton Heston's superb performance.

The plot unfolds slowly before the big reveal: this is a world where sentient apes rule and humans are mere beasts. Technology and social mores, it seems, are about a century behind the world which Taylor left. Powered flight remains unknown and theories of evolution are controversial. 

The ideological contrasts between the apes are shown through the characters of Zaius- a fundamentalist anti-evolutionist with a real contempt for human "beasts", the scientifically curious Zira and Cornelius, who holds heretical theories about humans being more advanced in the past. The big reveal at the end- and Heston's performance makes it pack a punch even though popular culture has long since spoiled it for all of us- is, of course, that this is Earth. Humans destroyed themselves in some sort of self-inflicted (nuclear?) disaster, and the senior apes know this. Zaius's speech to Taylor at the end is crushing: humans are warlike and murderous while apes are not,and paid a just price. Suddenly we can no longer see Zaius as straightforwardly prejudiced. This links back cruelly to Taylor's speech in the first scene as he speculates on whether humanity has become less warlike and cruel. This is a masterly piece of structuring.

Everyone should see this film. It's certainly the best I've seen this year.

When Worlds Collide (1951)

"If our calculations prove correct, this will be the most frightening discovery of all time!"

Oh dear. I'm no scientist; I did English at uni. But my BAD SCIENCE sense is tingling. Yes, I know this is a cheesy '50s sci-fi B movie, but, well, here's the premise: a star (Bellus) and its planet (Zyra; both of these are very '50s sci-fi names) are spotted on a trajectory to Earth, headed straight for us. The planet will hit first, causing all sorts of cinematic and rather impressive-looking natural disasters, followed ten days later by its parent star, which will end all life on Earth. That's a bit of a bummer, really.

But fear not; there's hope, for a select few. An Ark is to be constructed which is to land on the offending planet, somehow still in one piece after its collision with Earth. We end with (some of) our All American (and, er, all white) heroes safely landed on this planet, a paradise of grass, strange vegetation and matte paintings. Yep. You heard right. Zyra  magically turns out to have a breathable oxygen atmosphere in spite of the collision and in spite of the influence of our Sun. Hmm.

Amongst all this the film gives us a bit of human drama, a love triangle, and a rather superficial attempt at exploring how humanity would react to impending Armageddon and only an elite few (mainly scientists, naturally) being saves, but there's never any real depth. The effect of this is that the film is too superficial to be serious and too preachy to be fun. I prefer my B movies to be much less po-faced.

A Hard Day's Night (1964)

"What would you call that hairstyle you're wearing?"

"Arthur."

At long last I get to see this film; I've no idea why I hadn't seen it before. It's great, of course; it has no it as such but it has laughs, great dialogue, plenty of great Beatles tracks including the classic title track, and the superb comic performances of all four Beatles themselves, none of whom are trained actors. And all this at a time when they were insanely busy.

Wilfrid Brambell is also great as Paul's discreetly gay Irish "grandfather", and George gets a great scene where he puts the boot into the fashion industry. It's not just the Beatles themselves who date the film; you can tell the film was made at the tail end of the satire boom, and there are lots of little digs at the class system to echo John's quip about the rich people rattling their jewellery at the Royal Variety Performance.

As the film ends, with absolutely nothing having happened, you're left with a nostalgic smile on your face. I love this film.

The Plague of the Zombies (1966)

"I should have drowned you at birth!"

"Thank you, father!"

Interesting that this enjoyable Hammer romp is pre-George A. Romero, if only just. But it's fascinating to see that, as late as 1966, zombies were still very much associated in popular culture with their Haitian origins. Thus we have voodoo dolls, and a rather incongruous-looking Haitian butler in a Cornwall country home. It's striking to see the negative portrayal of voodoo here, though: it's referred to, in Christian terms, as "witchcraft".

It's also amusing to reflect on how class-ridden the society in this film is. The baddie is the local squire who, naturally, firmly rules the village. Meanwhile our delightfully grumpy hero, Andre Morell's splendid Sir James, is a posh medical professor to whom everyone defers and whom all working class characters call "Sir". He even gets essentially let off when caught grave robbing by the fuzz because of how posh he is.

It's amusing to see a very young Jacqueline Pearce here. Servalan, it seems, was a Victorian/Edwardian zombie before she rose in the ranks of the Federation.

This is peak Hammer by numbers, but peak Hammer by numbers is a great way to spend ninety minutes. I enjoyed this film hugely.

The Quatermass Experiment: Part 2 ("Persons Reported Missing")

"Don't. Don't comfort me."

OK, confession time. When I blogged Part 1, last year, I was somehow under the impression that only the first episode existed. Oops. I now realise, having seen it, that the second episode exists too, and is awesome. And I have to admit that  it's even worse than that; I watched all of the original three Quatermass series years ago, except this episode. Oops.

Moving swiftly on, this is a fascinatingly dark episode, as you'd expect from Nigel Kneale. The main plot chugs along as we slowly discover that the surviving astronaut nay (mostly) have the body of Victor Carroon, but he also seems to contain the minds of all three.

All this is grounded in the mystery of whatever horrific thoughts Quatermass is so obviously suppressing, the conflict generated by Paul Whitaun-Jobes' tenacious journalist, Jimmy Fullalove, and most of all by the big reveal that Jusith Carroon had been having an affair and was about to leave her husband. Now she faced a future as a guilt-ridden carer to a man she doesn't love.

This is superb drama, made four years before Sputnik but giving us a believable depiction of space travel even if, being pre-Suez, it shows a superpower Britain as the pioneer. Extraordinary.

Where the Wild Things Are (2009)

"You're the first king we haven't eaten."

This is a psychologically brilliant and delightfully weird film, as you'd expect from the creative team of Spike Jonze and Dave Eggers. It's an odd commercial proposition at first glance, though; it doesn't seem particularly kid-friendly for a film based on a children's book. Still, apparently it did well. And is, incidentally, brilliant.

The creatures are, primarily at least, based on prosthetics rather than CGI, which is in itself a triumph. And both the direction and the cinematography are both highly accomplished and rather subtle, making this film look, stylistically, a bit like an art house flick.

But the real triumph is the characterisation of the creatures, which is quietly very dark and more than a little Lord of the Flies. None of them are happy. At least one of them, Judith, is clinically depressed. They are childlike, in a way, but the contrast with Max's innocent enthusiasm is stark. They pay a heavy price for their wildness.

Even the island they live on is slowly turning to desert; entropy. This links thematically to the lesson at school, earlier in the film, where Max is taught about how the world will inevitable end. What, then, is the point? 

There's political allegory, too. Max is appointed king on the basis of his imaginative claims, but, inevitably, the reality is that, like all politicians, he governs in prose.

This is an extraordinary and unexpectedly deep film, and well worth seeing. Just don't expect a typical Hollywood kids' film.

Lady Chatterley's Lover

"She's a servant. It's not as if she's a person."

That's how you do it. Unlike the recent The Scandalous Lady W this is a perfect example of how to do an adaptation of a classic novel in a time slot of only ninety minutes without sacrificing any thematic depth or characterisation.

A confession first, though: I've read a fair bit of D.H. Lawrence- even The Plumed Serpent- but not Lady Chatterley's Lover. It isn't known as one of his best, and it's generally better known for the 1961 obscenity trial than as an actual novel. So I'm experiencing the characters and plot here for the first time. I'm rather impressed. 

The earlier scenes, setting up Constance and Sir Clifford's relationship, his injury in the trenches and subsequent emasculation, and their gradual growing apart, are done with an admirable economy of storytelling while still making time for subtle character moments. We slip into Mellors' POV as we meet him, get to know him and see his being emotes as gatekeeper, his relationship with Constance being spiky at first. Their early scenes together are full of chicks, flowers, and other obvious fertility symbols, which is very D.H. Lawrence.

The story of their affair doesn't quite go as expected, though. Her chat with her sister is revealing; what is shocking is not that she has taken a lover- this is more or less expected in this situation, upper class mores being what they are- but that said lover is a commoner. For the characters, the controversy here is all about class, not sex. This is underlined by Sir Clifford's clumsy attempt to get a friend- the "right sort", naturally, to father a child with her, more or less confirming that privileged upper class women were more or less expected to be brood mares. Patriarchy looms largest when families have money and stuff to pass down. Feminism, too, is a class issue.

I've no idea how much has been expunged from the novel, but I was rather impressed by this.

Twins (1988)

"Actually, I hate violence."

"But you're so good at it!"

How '80s can you get? We even get a montage, for heaven's sake. 

This film is a silly old piece of fluff, of course. It's 80s Hollywood comedy by the numbers. But it's fun. And it features the always excellent Danny DeVito, Chloe Webb from Sid and Nancy and, of course, Arnold Schwarzenegger in a comedy role.

Arnie is the revelation here. He can do comedy, and he can do it well. Comedy is hard. This means he can actually act when he puts his mind to it. People are shocked. Also, I must admit, this may be no one's favourite film but it's entertaining to watch, with a decent if silly plot and sufficient laughs to get away with calling it a comedy. Arnie's even gets to say "I'll be back" at one point. The film's best moment, though,  is Arnie's face after he pops his cherry. Yep. He can do comedy. 

In fact... I say this through gritted teeth, but the straight man in a comedy double act is often underappreciated and, well, Arnie is great at it.

What next, then? Kindergarten Cop?

The Doctor Who Pubcast

Nick and I have another edition of the world-renowned Pubcast for your delight and delectation, this time focussing on the late Anthony Ainley in honour of his recent (excellent) biography...

http://dwpubcast.podomatic.com/entry/2015-09-01T07_37_13-07_00

The Scandalous Lady W

"I belong to no man!"

It's almost a cliche to say that the BBC could do a costume drama in its sleep. Unfortunately that's what it seems to have done here.

Oh, it all looks good. You expect that. And Natalie Dormer is good and not to blame for her underwritten character. But given the huge themes at play here- the fact that women, in 1782 as here and for ninety years after, were legally their husbands' "property" and, of course, our old friend those sexual double standards- the script doesn't really involve us much inter characters, or get us to understand or care about them.

The concept is huge here: a woman isbeing persuaded by her husband to indulge his cuckolding fetish by shagging other men while he watches through a keyhole, thereby meeting another man with whom she elopes. She wins s victory of sorts by successfully fighting in court his attempt towin punitive damages against her new lover, but this comes at the terrible cost to herself of a shattered reputation, ultimately costing her access to her daughter and the very lover for whom she sacrificed all.

This is a heady brew. Why, then, do I not feel emotionally engaged? Perhaps this is not a story that could have been told over a mere ninety minutes; it feels extremely rushed, to the point of being hard to follow. Why not a six part series?

There are a couple of lines that made me smile- Lord North tells Sir Richard that "Lady Wortley will no more give up her independence than will the American colonies": rather witty for such a terrible prime minister. But beyond this there isn't much historical depth. The role of Lord Mansfield, presiding over the trial, in the ending of slavery on English soil is not even remarked upon, and neither is anything except plot, plot, plot.

This is a wasted opportunity of a story that could have made great telly. Hopefully one day it will. 

The Assassination Bureau (1969)

"Human life is so expendable. So easily replaced, and pleasurable."

This film gets a rough ride from critics, I feel, many of whom just don't get the understated black humour that gives the film its charm. I won't deny that the tone is at times uneven and the premise, great on paper, begins to drag a bit with the monotony of Oliver Reed's Ivan Dragomilovitch having to assassinate his colleagues one by one. But a delightfully urbane and witty Reed, a sexy, unflappable and Emma Peel-sequel Diana Rigg (I love her wardrobe!) and the hugely witty and quotable dialogue make this film a pleasure to watch in spite of its flaws. Hopefully a DVD release in Europe is not too far away; I had to rely on Netflix.

The casting of Telly Savalas to play Lord Bostwick with a blatantly North American accent is often disparaged by critics who miss the fact that the character is clearly based on Lord Beaverbrook. And there are plenty of enjoyable cameos from the likes of Beryl Reid, Roger Delgado, Warren Mitchell and George Coulouris.I thought Vernon Dobtcheff was bogey amusing as a stereotypically lugubrious Russian.

This is a gloriously cynical film, appropriate for one set in an age when war loomed, life was cheaper and it was important, if you had the means, to enjoy life as much as you could while maintaining a raised eyebrow at all times.

Dracula: Prince of Darkness (1966)

"There'll be no morning for us!"

Christopher Lee is the nominal star of this film, but he doesn't get to do much other than be a frightening presence: his only line is "Go on!", twice, and that's only to horses. He doesn't even appear until halfway through the film, and his appearances are rationed. Nevertheless, this is a splendid example of mid-'60s Hammer, with Terence Fisher providing atmosphere aplenty and superb performances from Barbara Shelley and Andrew Keir.

We begin with a flashback, glossing over the fact that this is the second sequel, after Brides of Dracula, to Hammer's original Dracula, but we move swiftly on to our new take, centred on four English travellers and a substitute for Peter Cushing's absent Van Helsing in the person of Keir's Father Sandor.

The eerie mystery of the castle is well-set up and well developed to maximise. Both effects and the  an early sense of foreboding. A young Philip Latham (we Doctor Who fans know him as President Borusa from The Five Doctors) is superb as a sinister butler in the early part of the film, but Thorley Walters also puts in a strong turn as Ludwig, an obvious Renfield substitute.

The central scene of the film- Dracula's resurrection- is superb, comparable I. Effect to a regeneration in Doctor Who. Both the effects and the framing of the scene are utterly masterful. Sufficiently so, in fact, as to successfully gloss over how easy it is for the supposedly dead vampire to be revived.

The ending is sudden, perhaps, but better this than it outstay its welcome. This is an excellent example of Hammer during its golden years.

The Skull (1965)

"All I can say to you is to keep away from the skull of the Marquis de Sade!"

I haven't reviewed a film featuring the great Sir Christopher Lee since his sad and fairly recent death, which is remiss of me. So I decided, on a whim, that this rather interesting-looking Amicus film, directed by the ever-reliable Freddie Francis, might do the trick. Perhaps it isn't Lee's biggest role- he's very much the guest star to an extraordinary starring performance from Peter Cushing here- but he is, nevertheless, superb. The auction scene alone (a cameo from Michael Gough!) shows that.

The film is excellently shot and made and, while the effects at the end are a little dated, that's all part of the film's charm. The film isn't perfect- the only two female characters exist only to be imperilled, and the Bechdel test is well and truly flunked, as you'd expect, and perhaps the pacing could be improved- but it's carried by Cushing's extraordinary performance: the moment towards the end where, with facial acting alone, he shows himself being possessed by the skull- is extraordinary.

Yes, there are cliches aplenty- we even have a police inspector dressed exactly like Clouseau in his coat and hat- but this Poe-like tale, in which Cushing's Chris Maitland, a rich collector of macabre items who doesn't enquire too closely into the ethics of their acquiral, is slowly unhinged and turned to murder by the cursed skull of the Marquis de Sade, is suitably griping. We get a satisfyingly lurid account of Sade's life, and some rather nice use of flashback to show us the skull's deadly history. It's only the slight slowness of the admittedly well-directed climax that lets the side down slightly.

This may be a slightly obscure film, but it's worth catching on Netflix if you can and, at 82 minutes, doesn't outstay it's welcome. 

The Woman in Black (2012)

"She makes us do it..."

This is the first of the new wave of Hammer horrors I've seen and, if this is anything to go by, I'm glad that Hammer are back. It's also interesting to see Daniel Radcliffe excel in his first true cinematic adult role- as a father and widower, no less. How very pointedly adult.

This is a solid and impressive adaptation of Susan Hill's 1983 novel by Jane Goldman, who has written many excellent films of a fantasy bent. I'd still like to see the 1989 TV adaptation, as it's written by the great Nigel Kneale, but this script is pretty awesome. Similarly, it's odd to see the likes of Jessica Raine and Roger Allam in such small parts but the cast here is excellent. So is the direction. In short, it's good.

I should probably be clear that I haven't read the original novel, but I found the plot satisfying and the film even a little scary. A little bit, at least. And I'm so much of a rationalist that, unlike my endearingly terrified wife this evening, I'm rarely actually scared of horror films.

Rationalism versus superstition is a theme here, of course, with Sam Daily holding out as the only person in the village who isn't superstitious. In the real world he'd be right, of course, but this is a horror film. And, I think, we're meant to notice the unfortunate class overtones of the rationalist country squire and the  superstitious peasants. But the film's theme, at heart, is the human cost of high infant mortality, which may have been a fact of life a hundred years ago it still must have absolutely destroyed people.

This film is really about the imagery, though; the creepy dolls, the revealed writing in blood behind the wallpaper, the sudden shocks and the innate horrors of Victoriana. It's true horror; in this modern world of "horror" films where the spectacle of gore overshadows true suspense and shock, this is the real deal, brought right up to date and more than worthy of the Hammer name.

Humans: Episode 8

"You would trap us in our own minds: give us feelings but take away our free will. Make us slaves."

It's the season finale, and I've only just worked out that Danny Webb's character is called Hobbs. Moving swiftly on...

Season finales often fail to dazzle because they have narrative jobs to do, tying up both plot and thematic loose ends, which gives the writer less time for the fun stuff. For that reason this isn't my favourite episode of the season, but it is nevertheless the perfect season finale. It satisfyingly ties up all loose ends, on a surprisingly optimistic note, and is a damn good bit of telly to boot.

The above quote is from Fred to Hobbs, and sums up how he's revealed here as the most evil character by far: fully understanding that the synths are sentient, he nevertheless wishes to enclave them. Fortunately, the rest of the episode takes pains to reject the notion that human nature as a whole is this dark. The Hawkins family, our Everyfamily, have done good. Even Pete and (ironically) Karen overcome their prejudice against synths to do the right thing, and are touchingly rewarded by getting together again at the end.

Most of all, we get a plausible happy ending, for families Hawkins and synth, following the apparently hopeless situation at the end of last episode. No one loses their liberty. No one loses their life, not even Max. The only loose end is what happens to the synth sentience program: no decisions are made on whether to grant sentience for all people (that's for the next series, about which there has been much rejoicing in the Llamastrangler household), but it's profoundly moving that Niska, with her deep suspicion of humans, should leave it with Laura as someone who has earned her trust. What we don't learn u till later is that Niska, a loner once again, has a copy of her own...

Also reaffirming our beliefs in the essential goodness of humans is the moment where Laura finally tells Joe about Tom. Joe has shown himself to be distinctly flawed throughout the series, but his only reaction is horror that Laura has carried this burden alone. Working together for a common cause has brought the family together by the end, in a satisfyingly and defiantly positive message. This is brilliant, brilliant telly.

Zombieland (2009)

"So, do you have any regrets?"

"Garfield, maybe?"

No, in spite of the title, the year of release and Jesse Eisenberg, this film isn't connected to Adventureland. What it is, though, is bloody brilliant, a fantastically metatextual take (you know I love that kind of thing) on the whole zombie genre. Right from the start, with the narrative being based around Columbus' rules of survival in "Zombieland", this is a fun watch.

Yes, a metatextual zombie comedy has been done before in the form of Shaun of the Dead, which I must get round to blogging someday, but this is very different. Shaun of the Dead is a small, claustrophobic film based in London and set, in any case, on a small island. Zombieland is able to use the huge, continental size of the USA to show the full and terrible scale of the zombie apocalypse, and then have some fun. Oh, and 28 Days Later has had an influence: these zombies run.

Eisenberg's Columbus is fantastic both as a character and as narrator- a loner, a nerd, a virgin, possibly on the spectrum, but in circumstances like these he's ultimately able to get the girl, the girl in this case being the delightfully devious con artist Wichita. This could be said to be the best and weirdest romantic comedy I've seen this year.

 The stand-out character, though, is Tallahassee, with Woody Harrelson stealing every scene he's in as the loud, eccentric and very Southern Twinkie obsessive. There's a tragic side even to him, though: we eventually learn that the "puppy" he lost was in fact his son. This is enough to communicate the pathos but, wisely, is not dwelt in. Too great a focus on the human tragedy of the zombie apocalypse would spoil the fun.

The best bit of the film, albeit too brief, is of course the section with Bill Murray playing himself: one gets the distinct idea that Tallahassee, Bill's biggest fanboy, is acting as the authorial voice here. You can see his point: Bill is fantastic. And apparently Eddie Van Halen is a zombie roaming around Hollywood.

Basically, this film rules and absolutely has to be seen. But I knew that as soon as the opening titles started with Metallica's "For Whom the Bell Tolls".