Coronawatch: Theatre at Home

An edited post originally sent as an email to friends and family:

As promised, here are some viewing options compiled by your friendly neighbourhood theatre enthusiast. Many theatre companies have rejigged their offerings to make things available online over the next few weeks and months. It’s a great opportunity to seek out some new plays that you wouldn’t otherwise come across. It certainly saves schlepping over to London at extortionate cost (even when it was possible to do so).

Some of these require subscriptions, but others can be accessed directly from the website links below. The list is by no means exhaustive, but provides a small snapshot of what’s available. Please feel free to share with your networks.

One final point: the arts & culture industries – like everything else – will be devastated by this situation. Many of the creators of this content are freelancers (writers, actors, directors, stage managers, technicians) on low wages. They will be hardest hit by the ongoing financial impact. At the same time, the material they have created will have incalculable value in keeping everyone sane, entertained, and distracted during this period. Films, TV, music, video games, and online plays will never be in higher demand as people hunker down in their homes in search of diversions. If you are able to, please consider making a donation to the cultural organisations whose work you particularly enjoy to help them navigate the waters ahead.

In no particular order:

Pentabus Theatre
A rural touring company based in Ludlow, Shropshire. Dedicated to producing contemporary plays for rural audiences: “telling stories with local relevance and national impact.” They are releasing recordings of their past shows to stream on their website and social media channels. These will remain live for three months and will be released on Fridays at 2pm, with open access to all. The first play available to view is Here I Belong by Matt Hartley.
Watch Here I Belong now online (free, no subscription).

National Theatre
The National Theatre has teamed up with YouTube to launch a weekly online broadcast on Thursdays at 7pm of their most-loved plays. First up on Thursday 2nd April is One Man, Two Guvnors, starring James Corden. Each play will be available for a further 7 days to watch at your leisure.
Watch National Theatre at Home (free, no subscription)

Royal Shakespeare Company
The RSC has an an existing agreement with Marquee TV to make several past productions available to view online. Please note that this requires a subscription to Marquee TV, which offers a 30-day free trial, but afterwards would cost £8.99 per month (or £69.99 per year). Companies also involved in this scheme include The Royal Opera House, The Bolshoi, Teatro Royale, Opera Zurich and more.
Twelfth Night will be the first play streamed on Saturday 11th April at 7.15pm.
Watch Twelfth Night (free 30-day trial, requires subscription)

Royal Court
The Royal Court is streaming a filmed version of their recent production Cyprus Avenue by David Ireland from Friday 27th March for 1 month. The play mixes live capture of the Royal Court stage production with location shooting in Belfast. It was first broadcast in September on BBC Four.
Content warning: the play contains strong language, discussion of sectarian themes, and scenes of extreme violence that some viewers may find disturbing. 18+
Watch Cyprus Avenue (free, no subscription)

Sea Wall
I will continue to bang the drum for this play until the end of days. Written by Simon Stephens and starring (Hot Priest) Andrew Scott, it has been online for years. But if I can just persuade one or two more people to see it, then all to the good. It may not be the most uplifting of storylines for these strange times, but it’s a beautiful piece of writing and acting.
Watch Sea Wall (from $5, Vimeo on Demand)

Gecko Theatre
Physical theatre company Gecko have several of their full-length shows on YouTube.
Watch now (free, no subscription)

Daniel Bye
Writer-performer Daniel Bye creates engaging and thought-provoking work, often through performance-lectures. Several of his shows are available on YouTube and are well worth a look. Highlights include The Price of Everything and the spookily prescient Going Viral. The online material is free to view, but bearing in mind his entire spring and summer tour has now been cancelled, please check out his Patreon page.
Watch Going Viral and The Price of Everything

Hampstead Theatre
Hampstead has teamed up with The Guardian to offer three of its plays to view for free online, each available for seven days.
Watch Wild by Mike Bartlett (free, no subscription), 30 March-5 April 2020
Watch Wonderland by Beth Steel (free, no subscription), 6-12 April 2020
Watch Drawing the Line by Howard Brenton (free, no subscription) 13-19 April 2020

Future schemes to watch out for:

Stoke-based Claybody Theatre is led by award-winning playwright Deborah McAndrew and critically-acclaimed director Conrad Nelson. Firmly rooted in the industrial history and communities of the Potteries, they craft high-quality performance in non-theatre spaces. They are planning to release their 2017 production Dirty Laundry as a podcast, available to download from their website (date to be confirmed).

HOME in Manchester has commissioned a programme called Homemakers to create new plays in isolation in response to the new circumstances. All work will be available on HOME’s website on a ‘pay-what-you-decide’ basis.

The BBC will soon launch Culture in Quarantine, a service that will make contemporary plays available online or on their various TV channels.

The National Theatre of Scotland has launched Scenes for Survival, a programme of theatrical responses to the current crisis designed to offer art to audiences and act as a fundraising platform for all those in the theatre industry affected by the situation.

Coronawatch: Pride & Prejudice (1995)

Saturday 14th March, 2020. Three days after the World Health Organisation (WHO) declared Covid-19 a pandemic. Two days after UK Prime Minister Boris Johnson announced that “many loved ones will die.” One day after the global financial crash.

I needed some comfort viewing. And that meant Pride & Prejudice. I was 14 when this came out. It was, shall we say, formative. It’s probably no coincidence that my other half has curly brown hair and can absolutely rock a frock coat. Unfortunately, however, the international context meant that my viewing experience this time around was a little different to normal. But what is normal any more? So, for my sanity and your entertainment, here are some thoughts on screen-watching in the age of Corona, taking into account the new UK guidance on social etiquette. More to come in the ensuing days and weeks.

Staying at home

• Theoretically not a problem. Look at the size of the houses! Rosings Park alone has 64 windows and god knows how many bathrooms. Might have to let go of a few manservants, so that would be inconvenient.
• Longbourne, while large by today’s standards, is admittedly a bit cramped having to contain Mr & Mrs Bennet and their FIVE daughters aged between 15-22. They could start climbing the walls very quickly, but luckily they have a decent-sized garden. Lady Catherine might dismiss it as a “very small park”, but it’s positively Kew Gardens in comparison with modern versions.
• Sewing, flower-arranging, pruning, reading, and piano-playing seem to be the order of the day in terms of entertainment. The girls are well set up to amuse themselves.
• Families do have an unfortunate habit of calling on each other at regular intervals, but, as long as they maintain a 2-metre distance while maintaining awkward small talk about the weather, it shouldn’t be too much of a problem. Lizzy has form for throwing out any visitors who outstay their welcome (looking at you, Mr Collins), so imposing a time limit is also an option.

Hygiene

• In ways that can only enhance his appeal, Darcy is far and away the most eager proponent of personal hygiene. We see him in the bath at Netherfield, washing his hands and face at Rosings, and – most famously – taking a fully-clothed swim in the lake at Pemberley. Top marks (although he does have a habit of touching his face with his signet ring to show concern).
• Greetings are generally conveyed via bows and curtseys, so people are clearly switched on to the dangers. The only exception, funnily enough, is Darcy. He gets very touchy-feely with Lizzy when she receives the bad news about Lydia, holding her hand in an extraordinarily intimate display of affection. He even shakes Mr Gardiner’s hand when concluding the deal on Wickham, both actions showing that he practically regards them as already part of the family.
• “Oh, do stop coughing, Kitty!”
• Mrs Bennet’s remonstration is rather undermined by the positive turn in the conversation, which leads to Kitty being allowed to cough as much as she chooses in a room full of people. So that’s the Bennets infected.
• Which leads neatly on to: “People do not die of little trifling colds!” The Georgian equivalent of IT’S ONLY THE FLU! Poor Jane, the only character to be struck down with a moderate disease. She pulls through, though.

Social distancing

• Balls. Balls, balls, balls.
• Lizzie’s penchant for long-distance walks in deserted parks and country lanes is clearly a VERY GOOD THING.
• There is, however, a worrisome trend of characters haring it across the country at the least excuse. Jane visiting relatives in London. Lizzy to Kent and back (some of it via public transport) and then off to Derbyshire. Lydia to Brighton and then to London. The Bennet family are veritable super-spreaders.
• Balls.
• Lots of fraternizing with the local militia.
• Miss Anne de Bourgh is the only immuno-deficient character in evidence, and she sensibly avoids all unessential gatherings.
• The Bingleys are a sociable bunch when at home, playing cards around a small table. Darcy, however, knocks it out of the park by not only playing billiards on his own in an empty room, but afterwards sitting down separately to write a letter. What a guy.
• Did I mention the balls?

Self-isolation

• Surprisingly (or perhaps not, given their daughters’ excursions), the older Bennets are experts at self-isolation when it suits their purpose. Sure, Mrs Bennet loves a good gossip in the village, but then thinks nothing of confining herself to her room and refusing all visitors. Similarly, Mr Bennet is happy spending days on end in his library. They appear to have it well-sussed.
• Somewhat belatedly, Mr Bennet determines to crack down on all the gallivanting for the foreseeable future, sensibly acknowledging that this all may take some time to sort out:

No, Kitty, I have at last learnt to be cautious, and you will feel the effects of it. No officer is ever to enter my house again, nor even to pass through the village. Balls will be absolutely prohibited, unless you stand up with one of your sisters. And you are never to stir out of doors till you can prove that you have spent ten minutes of every day in a rational manner…If you’re a good girl for the next ten years, I’ll take you to a review at the end of them.

So, what can we take from this perspective? The Bennet girls are akin to those hot-footing it to Devon and Cornwall this weekend – mixing and mingling without a care in the world. Their parents, very sensibly, respond by shutting themselves in their rooms as a means of self-preservation. Lizzy and Darcy, meanwhile, show a compatibility hitherto unseen with their mutual liking for open spaces, social distancing, and healthy exercise.

A marriage, indeed, made in heaven.

New article for The Conversation

Watching the whistleblowers: two new spy films tailor-made for an age of paranoia

Whistle-blower: Keira Knightley as Katharine Gun.
Nick Wall/IFC Films

Catherine Edwards, University of York

The revelations surrounding US president Donald Trump’s telephone conversation with the president of Ukraine, Volodymyr Zelenskyy, are raising serious questions about attempts to solicit outside interference in US domestic affairs. The erupting impeachment scandal has placed whistleblowers firmly back on the international agenda.

In a scene from director Gavin Hood’s 2019 film Official Secrets, journalist Martin Bright (Matt Smith) meets a source in an underground car park. “Very Deep Throat,” he comments drily, referencing the famous source in the 1970s Watergate conspiracy that brought down then US president, Richard Nixon. His informant holds up her mobile phone: “No signal,” she replies, indicating the real reason for her choice of location.

In a single moment, the film – which is set in 2003 – both acknowledges its generic heritage and positions itself in the technological context of early 21st-century spycraft. The pervasive fear of surveillance has been updated for the digital age.

Official Secrets is the first of two films released in the UK in autumn 2019 that reflect on the events that took place in the lead up to, and aftermath of, the 2003 Iraq War. It follows the decision of 27-year-old GCHQ translator Katharine Gun (Keira Knightley) to leak a memo that her employer received from the US National Security Agency (NSA) in January 2003.

The memo asked the British listening station for its cooperation in a US “surge” against selected members of the UN Security Council. The aim was to gather material designed to influence voting intentions and secure a second resolution (ultimately unsuccessfully) in support of the Iraq War.

The film dramatises Gun’s journey from loyal civil servant to whistle
blower and court defendant, charting the personal and professional fall out of her actions as she finds herself pitted against the might of the British establishment – and its judicial wrath. In parallel, the film follows the painstaking processes of the investigative journalists (Martin Bright, Peter Beaumont and Ed Vulliamy) who broke the story.

Official Secrets offers a passionate and damning assessment of UK government collusion in a US dirty tricks campaign designed to sway international opinion in favour of the Iraq War. It champions the efforts of individuals who stand up for their moral principles, whether through whistleblowing, journalism, or legal activism.

While ostensibly commenting on these historical actions, the film also illuminates contemporary concerns about government secrecy, accountability, and factual manipulation.

In the UK, the alleged suppression of the Parliamentary Intelligence Security Committee (ISC) report into Russian covert activity recently prompted suspicions about what (if anything) the British government is hiding about external meddling.

The temporary brand switch of the Conservative Party Press Office Twitter account to “FactCheckUK” during the a debate of party leaders in the run up to a December general election provoked complaints about an act of deliberate deception designed to muddy the (already murky) waters of online discourse. By fictionalising historical attempts by the British government to manipulate the court of public opinion, Official Secrets invites parallels to be drawn with the current erosion of trust in the political elite.

Cover up

The second film released in November to chronicle historical efforts to hold officialdom to account is Scott Burns’ The Report. While also containing the near obligatory car park informant scene, The Report is an altogether darker, denser thriller. It follows US Senate assistant Dan Jones (Adam Driver) as he is assigned by the Senate Intelligence Committee to investigate the CIA’s programme of Enhanced Interrogation Techniques (EITs) during the post-9/11 War on Terror.

Enhanced interrogation, it is rapidly made clear, is a euphemism for torture. Waterboarding, sleep deprivation and cramped confinement (false burial) were among 16 techniques designed to break the resistance of terror suspects. With mounting intensity and moral purpose, Jones meticulously pieces together the stories of each of the 119 detainees, eventually producing a 6,700-page report (reduced to a 700-page executive summary).

Interspersed with flashbacks of dehumanising violence, the film charts Jones’ increasingly obsessional pursuit of the truth. It is uncompromising in its denunciation of the CIA as perpetrators of torture, and of the US government for authorising its use and colluding in the cover up.

The criticism, however, is not restricted to the Bush-Cheney regime. Also in the firing line is the hypocrisy of the Obama presidency (represented in the film by John Hamm as the White House chief of staff) who, it is suggested, was only too happy to reap the benefits of CIA propaganda when it came to the 2012 re-election campaign.

Real-life dramas

In a similar way to Official Secrets, The Report both dramatises an historical event and offers an implicit commentary on the current political climate in the Anglo-American sphere. By showing a recording of the actual speech given by the late John McCain on publication of the report, the film drags the recent past firmly into the present. It provides a glaring contrast between the bipartisan values that motivated the Senate investigation and the wilful disinformation that continues to emerge from the Trump administration.

In the present febrile political climate the tagline of The Report could be read as a clarion call to politicians on both sides of the pond: Truth Matters. If only they would listen.

Catherine Edwards, Doctoral Researcher, University of York

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

#RevokeArticle50

I’m not hugely political, but I took the time to write to my MP yesterday to convey my concerns about this shambles of a situation. Hopefully the new deadlines established last night will concentrate minds next week.

Dear Steve McCabe

I am writing to you as my local MP to urge for your support in resolving the Brexit crisis which increasingly appears to be becoming an existential threat to the system of parliamentary democracy.

In 2016, I voted Remain because I believe that the UK’s continued membership of the EU is the best way for an advanced, mature, sovereign nation to optimise its international reach through a relationship based on cooperation and shared values and objectives.

We are now eight days away from the withdrawal deadline of 29th March, with no deal, no consensus, and no coherent leadership from either the Government or, it must be said, from the Opposition. We hear empty platitudes from both sides of the House from those seemingly intent on pursuing narrow ideological lines and failing to engage on a level that has any chance of breaking the deadlock. I have been following developments in recent months and my disappointment in the lack of progress has been wholly over-ridden by my horror at the hostile and divisive rhetoric that has seeped into the debate. In a climate where far-right extremism seems to be arising from all quarters, this moment has the feeling of a turning point in how politics is conducted in the UK.

I watched some of the emergency debate yesterday afternoon and was impressed by the speeches from Justine Greening, Dominic Grieve, Hilary Benn and Liz Kendall, who all addressed – eloquently and persuasively – their concerns about the growing threats to parliamentary integrity. I agree with Liz Kendall’s statement that MPs are representatives, not delegates; elected to use their discretion and judgment to act in the best interests of the country, over and above any amorphous “will of the people,” or their own political parties.

In the context of a PM cynically directing public ire towards a Parliament already grappling with an impossible set of circumstances, and a Deputy Speaker having to issue safety advice to MPs, I urge you and your colleagues to step back from this spiralling crisis. This time-limited and pressure-cooker atmosphere is the worst context in which to make a decision with a decades-long impact.

None of the choices now on the table will be popular. Whatever happens next week, there will continue to be public anger, division, and recrimination. Putting that to one side, it is down to MPs to determine what course of action will be most beneficial to the short- and long-term prosperity of the UK. For my part, I have signed the online petition today to revoke Article 50. This has not been my position up until now; I actually (as a Remain voter) had some faith that Brexit would be negotiated with a measure of strategy and competence. This has evidently not happened, and time has now run out to make a success of any kind of exit.

With that in mind, I entreat you as my MP to take positive action by voting for the revocation of Article 50 next week. If there is then scope for a cross-party consensus to try and work out a way forward, Parliament can start to rebuild trust with the electorate. Leadership formulated on honesty, sincerity, and humility is now needed.

I know you will be receiving many of these emails, from across the political divide, but I hope you will take the time to consider my points, and appreciate the very real and widespread anxiety that this situation has caused. If you’ll forgive the Americanism: thank you for your service.

Best wishes,

Catherine

The Walking Dead

For reasons unknown, I’ve recently started watching the first series of the zombie drama The Walking Dead. I don’t know why; I’ve never been into zombies, or gore, or horror of any kind (save for psychological thrillers like Silence of the Lambs). Plus, I’m about eight years, nine seasons and over a hundred and thirty episodes behind, so that’s quite some commitment to catch up on.

Nevertheless, a PhD can make you do strange things, so I’ve decided to run with it. And surprisingly, I’m hooked. There’s enough humour about the bat-shit craziness of the situation to undercut the (increasing) moments of sheer horror, and some of the twists (the Latino gang in Episode Four being a case in point) that offer snippets of genuine relief. But mainly, I’ve realised that I’m not so unfamiliar with the genre after all.

The plot centres around a small but disparate group of survivors following an apocalyptic event. They band together to try and find a way out. At the time of watching, their camp has just been invaded by walkers, leaving a few casualties, so I’m guessing that they’ll up sticks shortly in search of a new and safer place of refuge. Already, they’ve encountered other groups of survivors with varying levels of friendliness, all the while hunted by deadly predators who are not averse to ripping them apart.

It’s basically Watership Down.

Which also goes some way to explaining why the latter is so bloody terrifying. It’s a zombie film. With rabbits. No wonder kids are traumatised.

I could go further and start drawing parallels between individual characters (Rick/ Hazel, Shane/Bigwig; looking further ahead – Negan/Woundwort?), but I fear the analogy would start falling apart very quickly. Nonetheless, I’ll be looking out for a larger than life German seagull in the later seasons, just in case.

Last of the Mohicans (1992)

Every so often, I’m jolted out of my sense of complacency about films. I’d seen Last of the Mohicans before; of course I had. I can even tell you approximately when: it was a New Year’s Eve when I was about 20. It was a quiet, civilised night in with friends Sandra & Jo and we were working our way through a double or triple bill of films. I drove back home and arrived, stone cold sober at around 3am, to a chorus of drunken cheers from a parental party still in full swing. I have never felt more like Saffy before or since.

Anyway, the digression just serves to illustrate that I only got around to seeing the film approximately seven years after its first release, on a small screen, and it wasn’t the most memorable part of the night (that honour was taken by the image of my dad being hoisted up the stairs by his trousers by his elderly aunt at 5am, who clearly thought he’d had quite enough to drink, thank you very much). I remembered a few salient points – the waterfall, the shock fate of a couple of characters, and ‘I will find you!’, all combining into a sense of melodramatic excess. Frankly, I wasn’t too fussed.*

Fast forward to last weekend, and I’d spotted the film was being shown at The Electric as part of their Cinematic Time Machine series. Knowing Bob was not averse to the odd Western, I suggested we give it a go. Will McKeown from the University of Birmingham’s B-Film research centre gave a very interesting and informative introduction to the film, which provided some background context and set the stage effectively.

I tell you, I was almost crying by the time the first few bars kicked in. And no, before you ask, I’m not speaking as a newly discovered Daniel Day-Lewis fangirl (bit late now, seeing as he’s just retired). But the epic music, the vast landscapes, and the dramatic themes set against the backdrop of war seemed to strike a chord. And a melody. Did I mention the music?

Hawkeye (Daniel Day-Lewis) and his adopted father Chingachgook (Russell Means) and brother Uncas (Eric Schweig) exist on the fringes of the French and Indian Wars in 1757. They live, hunt, and survive alongside the colonial settlers, subject to no-one but themselves. Happening upon a Huron ambush led by the uncompromising Magua (Wes Studi), they rescue two daughters of a British colonel stationed at Fort William Henry. Offering to escort them to the safety of the Fort, they arrive to find the place under heavy siege by the French. Smuggling their charges through the lines under the cover of darkness, their mission seems to be complete. Until, that is, Hawkeye takes a shine to the elder daughter and decides to stay on for a bit to get to know her while the fort is pummelled into submission. Finally surrendering to the French, the Colonel and his men are allowed to depart with full honours, only to march straight into the path of the waiting Magua and his war party. Saving the day again with some nifty moves (albeit not quite preventing a massacre), Hawkeye and co. escape to the afore-mentioned waterfall with the two daughters, an English officer, and a couple of anonymous redshirts who you just know are not long for this world. After a few more twists and turns, and an awful lot of running, the denouement falls on a clifftop skirmish; a fight to the death to enact justice, revenge, and a poignant lament for a dying way of life.

Yes, it’s corny. But my god, does it work. The tone, while reverential, never succumbs to parodic pretension. The visuals – as noted in the introductory talk – are stunning, and not just the landscapes. Many scenes are seemingly composed to resemble historical paintings of the period (thanks to Bob for that observation). Such attention to detail exemplifies the director’s focus on historical authenticity, from training the extras in contemporaneous military manoeuvres, to building the entire set of Fort William Henry from scratch using local materials.

What is especially interesting is that this dedication to historical veracity is favoured above a faithful rendering of the original plot. Viewed as an adaptation, the film clearly takes liberties with the source material; several characters who survive to the end of the novel do not share the same fortune here. Identities are switched around, ages are altered, and a racial undercurrent is not addressed apart from a brief mention in passing. But audiences are not engaging with the story as an exercise in comparison. As John le Carre says in an interview as part of the DVD extras on the 2011 release of Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy: “this is the film of the film, not the film of the book.” It has to be seen on its own terms. Narrative fidelity – to what has been described as a rather simplistic depiction of cultural stereotypes – has been eschewed in favour of historical authenticity, in what Kamilla Elliott would identify as the ‘trumping’ model of adaptation. In this case, the changes align with the director’s interpretation of historical events to form a narrative cohesion that emphasises the central theme of survival and offers a prescient nod to the autonomy of rule.

The overall result successfully combines the genres of literary adaptation, war, frontier western, and historical romance, which is no easy task. The central relationships are well-characterised and (most importantly) credible, which go a long way to humanising the conflict and its surrounding politics. A film well-deserving of another outing on the big screen.

Some final thoughts:

• It struck me that Peter Jackson must have taken some inspiration from this film for Lord of the Rings, not least in the visual characterisation of Aragorn and the chasing of the Uruk-Hai at the beginning of The Two Towers. You could push it even further and substitute the three characters easily enough: Hawkeye – Aragorn, Chingachgook – Gimli, Uncas – Legolas. Someone more technically-minded than me could produce a great mash-up of the two, swapping over the respective soundtracks
• Like this kind of thing (full respect at 2.05 – that’s got to be tough on the thighs)

Footnote

*A few years ago, we had also seen the 1970s BBC TV adaptation, which was memorable mainly for Allo Allo’s Hilary Minster popping up at regular intervals in roles ranging from a British sergeant, Huron warrior, French infantryman and Delaware scout. The budget evidently didn’t stretch to covering the extras.

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (2011)

The film choice on Friday night was the David Fincher adaptation of the first book in Stieg Larsson’s Millenium series. Heavily influential in creating a global audience for the Nordic Noir trend, the original trilogy was first adapted into film in a Swedish production not two years earlier. Questions, then, were raised at the time about the efficacy of a new adaptation so soon after the first. Mumblings around bandwagon-hopping, money-grabbing, and American audiences who can’t be bothered to read subtitles clouded the film’s popular reception (although it was critically well-received). The timing of the film’s release during the Christmas holidays probably didn’t help. Although there’s plenty of snow and (spoiler!) a family reunion, it’s not exactly The Muppet Christmas Carol.

Unusually for an adaptation, the 2011 film was compared to the 2009 Swedish production, rather than the original novel. The only other recent example I can think of that takes a similar approach is the 2011 adaptation of Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, the reviews of which invariably drew comparison with the 1979 BBC TV series starring Alec Guinness. To me, it raises interesting questions around the delineation between what is ‘definitive’ and what is ‘original’, and how adaptations navigate that spectrum.

The film itself follows the parallel storylines of disgraced journalist Mikael Blomkvist (Daniel Craig) as he accepts a commission from a wealthy industrialist (Christopher Plummer), and the eponymous girl, Lisbeth Salander (Rooney Mara), who is having a few issues with her guardian. Their paths converge as it becomes clear that a serial killer is in operation in the snow-blasted landscape and the family business is not welcoming the intrusion. To quote another film mentioned in a blog I’ve just discovered, ‘the hospitality in this country is as warm as the weather’.

Put simply, this is an outstanding film. Right from the opening credits, which combine Bond-like visuals with a nightmarish, punk-Alien vibe, Fincher creates an atmosphere that is unsettling, disturbing, and provocatively in-yer-face. The horrific scenes with Lisbeth and her guardian are not glossed over, but the unlikelihood of further sequels make them purely character development and motivation rather than narratively essential. Does that matter? I’d like to say not, but the absence of narrative completion and context (though not cohesion) gives this plotline a brutality that verges on gratuitousness.

This is not a film for a date-night, or one to recommend to your parents (well, not mine, anyway). But it’s a gripping investigative thriller with a uniformly excellent cast. I’m only sorry it’s taken me six years to get around to watching it.

Review: The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Family

On Friday evening, I kicked off the weekend by heading down to Bromsgrove to catch Ben Norris’s show The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Family on the last leg of its current tour. (It’s in London at the end of the month, but deservedly sold out.)

Funny, poignant, and deeply personal, Hitchhiker’s Guide celebrates the relationship between father and son. Simultaneously separated by generations, yet connected by shared experience. Actually, scratch that; it’s more like being separated by shared experience (but in a good way).

In preparation for the show, and in an attempt to understand (quite literally) where his dad is coming from, Ben hitchhiked down the M1 to visit the various places where his dad spent his early years. Accompanied by some nifty animation, the occasional film clip and photos of those he encountered, Ben charted his journey interspersed with reminiscences about growing up with a dad whose approach to life was a million miles away from his own.

Football was a common thread, as he made his way to Wembley (the old one) and revisited the home ground of Luton Town, the site of many a father-son bonding experience. It’s part of the universality of this show that different elements trigger individual memories on the part of the audience. For me, the home ground of Luton Town football club was the last football match I ever attended. When I moved to Birmingham in 2003, my brother (a life-long Brighton & Hove Albion fan now living in Coventry) invited me to join him for any Saturday afternoon away games that happened to be within a 2-hour radius of the West Midlands. It was a good chance to spend time with him, and it started off well enough (winning the League  One play-offs in 2004 was a definite highlight), but after a few years of rainy visits to places like Grimsby (nice fish, shit town, went the terrace chant) the visits culminated in a very cold and wet defeat to Luton Town at Kenilworth Road. As Ben mentions in the show, you can only get to the ground over the rooftops of a line of terraced houses, like a cut-price Mary Poppins. To my eternal shame, I think I even might have told my brother to fuck off when he brought me a cup of bovril. He’s still speaking to me, though the football is no longer a shared passion.

Digressions aside, Ben’s journey was ultimately about connection, and nowhere was that felt more keenly than between Ben and the audience in the room. For just over an hour, he became everyone’s son, and the warmth and – yes – love that flowed from both sides during that time made this one of the most magical theatre performances I’ve seen for a long time. 

Star Trek (TOS) 1.2: Charlie X

I also missed this episode at the time of its 1992 broadcast, but like ‘The Man Trap’, I had caught up with it a few years ago.

It’s a good story: a 17 year old boy has been found by a cargo ship as the sole survivor of a colony whose other members died (presumably in an accident) when he was a baby. His survival defies all logic, so Spock soon comes to the conclusion that he must have had outside help, possibly from the ‘Thasians’, the virtually mythical historical inhabitants of the planet, about whom nothing is known.

The cargo ship offloads the eponymous Charlie on to the Enterprise and make a hasty departure, only to blow up in mysterious circumstances. Meanwhile, Charlie is exhibiting increasingly volatile behaviour that cannot entirely be put down to teenage hormones, although they certainly don’t help. It’s down to Kirk to introduce the young man to the nuances of 23rd century sexual politics. What could possibly go wrong? After one tantrum appears to eliminate a member of the crew, the Captain has a super-sized problem on his hands. His fatherly authority holds Charlie at bay for a time, but the teenager rebels and uses his powers to take over the ship. When all seems lost, the Thasians appear and apologise for letting him out of their sight. A howling Charlie is taken back to spend the rest of his life in well-meaning isolation.

This is a poignant episode which is the first to address the recurring issue of the corruptive and corrosive issue of power. Charlie was given his abilities at an early age to help him survive; it’s not really his fault that he can’t control them. His refrain of ‘stop laughing at me’ continues to evoke sympathy from the hyper-sensitive teenager that still resides in me. Having said that, he’s an obnoxious twat whose crush on Yeoman Janice Rand quickly turns from puppy-dog sweet to fuck off, you whiney creep. I suppose, narratively-speaking, this is a good way of ensuring Kirk’s decision to maroon him indefinitely on a far-off planet is entirely justified and acceptable to the viewing audience.

Observations

• Ok, Spock and Uhura definitely have a thing going. There’s far too much ‘look at us’ coy lyre-playing and public crooning in the recreation room.
• I had to laugh at Kirk’s offer to provide the crew of the visiting cargo ship with a stockpile of ‘entertainment tapes’. Yes, the Captain of the Enterprise is peddling porn.
• His attempt to distract Charlie from his teenage passion is equally hilarious: ‘I know you’re horny as hell’ (I’m paraphrasing), ‘but let’s go and have a TOPLESS MANLY WRESTLE to take your mind off it’. Didn’t work.
• Speaking of which, this is the first glimpse of Shatner’s bare chest in the series, soon to receive a co-starring credit.
• I’m fascinated by the intricate threading patterns in Janice Rand’s beehive hairstyle. It’s a wonder she has any time to carry all those trays.
• Smooth-talker of the week: ‘There are many ways to hit a woman.’ Gee, thanks, Captain. Glad you’re on hand to give fatherly advice to impressionable 17 year-olds with anger issues.
• Technology of the week: Got to be Spock using a pile of coloured post-it notes as a voice recorder.

Star Trek (TOS) 1.1: The Man Trap

I started watching the original series (TOS) of Star Trek when the entire run was broadcast on BBC2 on Wednesday evenings at 6pm. I’ve checked on the BBC genome project, which archives all Radio Times listings from 1923-2009, and ‘The Man Trap’ was first broadcast on 26 August 1992. I was 11. An impressionable age, from any perspective, and a time when I was just about to embark on the transition from primary to secondary school. Not only that, over the summer, my dad’s work commitments had taken us from a relatively settled life in West Sussex to the uncertainty of a new start in Bath. As an adult, I can now look back on it as not a bad swap, but at 11 it meant never seeing my friends ever again. And actually, in most cases, that turned out to be pretty accurate. I was never a particularly reliable penpal, it was pre-Internet, my phone calls were generally functional rather than affectionate, and the most exciting piece of technology was a brand new fax machine that even then was never going to pass for speedy communication.

So it was within this context – new town, new school, and probably feeling more than a bit sorry for myself – that I first fell upon Star Trek. Looking back, the appeal was fairly obvious. The series embodied friendship, constancy, and familiarity (even the planets all looked the same). Every week, I could join a ready-made community who shared a common purpose. Despite the best efforts of some of the monster-of-the-week storylines, it was wholly unthreatening, and despite the literally out-of-this-world setting, the main focus was on the central relationships. It was fun, it was cheesy, but above all, it was home.

It to be said that I didn’t watch the series from the outset; I picked it up a few episodes into the first season. And, it being the early-90s, there was no TV catch-up, so ‘The Man Trap’ was therefore one I missed at the time (but I had seen it since). Watching it again a couple of days ago, I can see why it was chosen as the episode to open the series. It’s classic-Trek and the characters/ themes are already fully-formed, with virtually no clunky exposition (well, no more than normal).

Kirk, McCoy and nameless crewman (Galaxy Quest gets this spot on) beam down to a planet to undertake an annual health check to two scientists stationed there. McCoy has a personal interest in the trip as one of the scientists, Nancy, happens to be an old flame (another harbinger of doom) whom he hasn’t seen for ten years. They beam down and the reunion goes off splendidly, apart from the minor (but so far unnoticed) fact that Nancy appears as a different woman to each of the members of the landing party. Cue the appearance of her particularly grumpy scientist husband, a distant blood-curdling scream, and the nameless crewman has sadly succumbed to the inevitable.

SPOILER ALERT (but hey, it’s 50 years old, so if you haven’t watched it yet, I doubt you’re going to care).

Nancy turns out to be a shape-shifting salt monster who drains the salt from her/its victims, thereby rendering them dead.  After several more bodies, a brief escapade on board ship, the creature (back in Nancy’s image) is reluctantly dispatched by her former lover, McCoy, who is forced to make an impossible choice.

Observations

• It has to be pointed out that the creature seems to be motivated by the acquisition of salt, rather than any specific ill-intent, which makes you wonder why it couldn’t just have asked Starfleet to deliver a shit tonne of the stuff every year.
• Interesting to note that the nameless crewman (and other victims, who did manage to secure identities) were wearing blue shirts rather than the stereotypical red. No doubt this will be rectified in future episodes.
• Likewise, the Enterprise doesn’t seem to have invented replicators yet, judging by the amount of food being carried on trays in the episode.
• On a similar point, does the Enterprise only have one canteen? People seem to be going up and down turbo-lifts and walking for ages with their bloody trays. You’d have thought they could afford one per floor, or at least a tuckshop to keep them going.
• Sulu has a very impressive range of colourful plants in his collection, although one looks suspiciously like it’s being animated by a human hand.
• Smooth-talker of the week: ‘Is this Nancy?’ bellows Spock as he belts her across the face with both hands, several times. Well, no, I certainly hope not.
• Speaking of Spock, is he flirting with Uhura here? She looks as though she wouldn’t mind if he was…