Tales of Suspense #43

 "Follow me, puny surface man!"

This may, in some ways, be an utterly unremarkable issue. There's still no real supporting cast. The antagonist. Queen Kala of the Netherworld, may not quite be a one-off but she's hardly a major recurring villain. And Tony Stark basically gets out of his quandary by tricking Kala into giving him a laboratory, privacy, and unlimited resources so he can sneakily make a new Iron Man suit- in short, a retread of the origin story.

Plus , again, we have little attention being given to overall continuity, showing that, still, despite the crossovers there's no real conception of a consistent shared universe. The "Netherlanders" (Secretly Dutch? They're certainly below sea level,) are yet another underground civilisation, and they're descended from Atlanteans. So, yeah, I'm sure Mole Man, Tyrannus and indeed the Sub-Mariner might have something to say about that.

Yet, despite its flaws and contemporary quirks (Tony exploits the misogyny of Kala's right hand man! She kindly shows him around before carrying out her plan! Bringing to the surface turns her, conveniently, into an "old hag" so invading the surface wouldn't be viable. Even more conveniently, the effect is reversible!), this is very fun and engaging. But at this point we really, really need a supporting cast and some solid recurring baddies. 

The Witches (1966)

 "I see. What we admit, we believe. And what we believe, I suppose, could destroy us."

This is a most odd example of a peak period Hammer horror film. It totally eschews the usual tropes and fun- and even the usual familiar faces. Instead we get a typical subtly bleak script from Nigel Kneale and a quiet little supernatural thriller, riffing on both voodoo and witchcraft, heavily based on a highly impressive final ever film role for actual Hollywood star Joan Fontaine.

There's much to commend, too. Fontaine is superb, odd though it is to see her share a screen with both Betty Spencer and Reginald Perrin. The misdirection and final twist are well done, and the deep psychological horror of being trapped in a mental institution appears to good effect. It all takes place in a dreamlike mid-'60s Cornwall which adds deliciously to the atmosphere.

Still, it's a bit slow, and the voodoo elements do rather feel crowbarred in, effective though they are at times. The constant flashbacks to the African artifacts are also very awkward. The film is hardly without its flaws, and is certainly far from Kneale's finest work. And the direction is... well, workmanlike. Still, a decent film if perhaps no more than that.

The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui by Bertolt Brecht, at the Swan, Stratford upon Avon

 "If we could learn to look instead of gawking

We'd see the horror in the heart of farce 

If only we could act instead of talking

We wouldn't always end up on our arse..." 

The perfect first play for my lovely partner and I to see together, no...? 

This play, currently running at Stratford, is a triumph. Using Stephen Sharkey's translation, it really brings to us the power of Brecht's play, genuinely funny until it really, really isn't, which is, if course, the point- farce that turns to horror. Hitler, like a certain orange man with tiny hands, was considered a joke by most of us, an act of complacency. Farage, too, is an absurd little man. So is "Tommy Robinson". And, of course, as the great Anthony Burgess said, the jackboot is intrinsically absurd, as though it's daring you to laugh... and that's the point. For you don't dare.

Neither Hitler nor Trump had a sense of humour, always a sigh... 

Gatiss is, of course, superb in terms of both the line delivery and the physicality of his performance. He oozes a terrible charisma and, to his credit, plays his interpretation of the character of Ui as written by Brecht, resisting the temptation to do an impression of Hitler, Trump, or anyone else.

The staging, too, is a triumph. Above the stage is a movable area occupied by Placebo, who provide a truly amazing soundtrack, and this is used effectively in order to allow for fast and creative scenery changes. The use of space here is truly inspired.

Beyond Gatiss, the cast impresses deeply, Mawaan Rizwan in particular. This is a fun yet horrifying production that speaks to our own times more than, perhaps, the play ever has. I implore anyone who is able to do so to see this while you still can. 

Update

This is just to say that I may be able to blog something tomorrow night, but it's likely I won't be back to a normal-ish blogging schedule until Monday or Tuesday next week. Nothing to worry about- just my personal life being busy in a good way, combined with being pretty much back to normal work-wise.

May is going to be a busy month, but this blog isn't going anywhere! 

Tales to Astonish #45

"Wonder what this wire is for? Oh well, it doesn't matter."

So, you know how the Ant-Man stories seemed to be on an upswing, what with the new writer, the addition of the Wasp, and trying to make Henry Pym a bit less bland as a character? Well... said upswing may have run its course. This is turgid stuff.

Yes, Egghead is back- a villain whose only real traits are cleverness and arrogance, and he's suspiciously similar to the Wizard in both respects. He just, well... goes into a bit of a sulk after last time, but eventually decides on revenge, conveniently picking up a couple of very generic henchmen. And then proceeds to set a very generic trap, using the Wasp as bait, heavily relying on the assumption that Janet will go to his lecture on wasps, without Henry.

Oh, and Ant-Man and the Wasp literally have a race- his catapult (still a thing!) versus her wings. Yes, really. Also, the word "flickers" appears, never a wise word to use in a comic book. We end with the baddies using, and I can't believe I'm typing this, water pistols filled with "liquid gas". And, right at the end, Ant-Man scolds the Wasp, calling her "young lady", while her thought bubble reminds us that she's still supposed to be in love with him.

I think, by now, it's clear that these Ant-Man stories are not working, 

Children of the Stones: Squaring the Circle

 "There's no way out until the stones release us..."

This penultimate episode is the most gripping yet, from start to finish. Margaret and Sandra are now "happy", and the tension is superb as Adam and Matt gradually realise this. They're now alone in an increasingly claustrophobic village. It feels as though there's nothing they can do.

The attempt to leave the village fails, of course, in beautifully surreal scenes which are a triumph of trippy and imaginative direction. And they wake in Hendricks' house, as "guests", seemingly with no escape as villagers surround the house. 

Iain Cuthbertson is magnificent here, both urbane and sinister as, at last, he verbally spars with our father and son protagonists in his avuncular way. Yet, once again, it's the mood that lingers in the mind. I begin to wonder whether what's going on will be given some kind of explanation, or whether it may in fact be better if it isn't.

I have no idea how this can possibly end. But it truly is one of the greats of children's television.

Dexter: The British Invasion

 "Confusion requires fire trucks?"

Wow. So this is how it ends. Such magnificent, exciting chaos. Yet it all feels earned in terms of the characters. And, in hindsight, Lila's bit of self-arson a few episodes back was something of a harbinger for how this would end. For Doakes, and almost for Dexter...

I sort of knew that Doakes had to die- he knew too much. What else could the writers possibly have done with him? But so early in the episode, so dramatically, and Lila reacting to the truth about Dexter by doubling down on him being her soulmate... wow. She's an extraordinary character.

And her reaction, wanting Dexter even more and intensifying her pursuit, is extraordinary- as is Dexter's realisation of what she's like- just like him, emotionally empty. Her past, interestingly, is still a mystery, but was her "addiction" to a substance at all?

But then there's her unhinged revenge side, trying to kill not only Dexter but the kids. She misses a trick, I suppose, in not just exposing Dexter to Rita and to the world, but as a climax it really works. As does Dexter's killing her, finally able to do so in accordance with his "principles".

There's other character development with Deb, too... her heart, inevitably, is broken. But she's even closer to Dexter, the two of them being, bizarrely, paragons of a healthy sibling relationship. And all is seemingly back to the status quo...

Except LaGuerta, who knows something is off. As Doakes did exactly a season ago...

Wow. Just wow. 

Perfume: The Story of a Murderer by Patrick Suskind

 I read this way back in the '90s and, although I remembered very little, I do recall enjoying it. I also watched (and blogged) the film adaptation about ten years ago. I remember very little of that either, but apparently my past self didn't think too much of it, deeming the novel "unfilmable".

And... well, it is. It heavily leans into the dimensions of the olfactory, a dimension denied to film, a medium that appeals solely to the eyes and ears. And the charm of the novel lies in its depictions of the human side of pre-revolutionary France, described with a deeply enjoyable wit- and that the wit come across despite this being a novel in translation is a credit to both the author and the translator.

The novel was a great favourite of songwriting genius Kurt Cobain, of course, a big reason for me initially reading it back in the day. He was fascinated by Jean-Baptiste himself, and his disdain and hatred for his fellow humans. I wasn't really; Grenouille is interesting for his olfactory abilities but I wasn't drawn to him as a character. But the character of Grenouille isn't what makes this novel enjoyable- it's the wit, the irony, the well-drawn minor characters.

This is a good novel, not a great one, perhaps just a tiny bit over-praised for its literary qualities. But it's a thoroughly readable book and perfect for reading on the train while commuting.