London Bound

Tate Britain

I'm writing this on Sunday to post Monday as I'll likely be in transit about this time; if all goes according to plan I ought to be on the Piccadilly Line heading to Russell Square and my swanky hotel. Hurrah for internet deals! Plans include seeing as many friends as I can, visiting my namesake at the Butterfly World Project on Tuesday, seeing Kaurismäki's new film Le Havre and the new Moomin Shop in Covent Garden, maybe catching the Hirst exhibit at the Tate Mod and definitely seeing the Wednesday matinee of The Ladykillers -- very excited about that.

News as I have time and wifi to pass it along: check Twitter. Alt-Fiction this weekend!

If you need entertaining, go listen to Elaine Stritch sing a very appropriate Noel Coward song.

Flash Fiction Challenge: Zoo Story

Patti Abbott has challenged folks again on the topic of the zoo: here's mine with apologies to Edward Albee and William Shakespeare and Bruce Robinson as well. So there.
 

Zoo Story

"So, this is the place."

"This? Why?"

"I thought it would be dramatic."

"Dramatic? Why? Wolf howls make it dramatic?"

"Not exactly. That scene was filmed here."

"What scene?"

"From the movie, you know the one."

"No. You mean…no. Which one?"

"The funny one, with those two guys and the drinking and—it's very funny. You liked it."

"It's not coming to mind."

"But there's that scene where he quotes from Shakespeare."

"Who does?"

"Whatsisname…Grant."

"Cary Grant?"

"No, not Cary Grant. The other one."

"Hugh Grant?"

"No, whatsit—Richard! Richard A. Grant."

"Don't know him."

"You do! He was in that movie and in lots of other ones. Tall bloke, gaunt looking, theatrical. He was in the Spice Girls movie."

"What did he play?"

"I don't remember. Anyway that's not the point."

"What is the point?"

"He was giving that speech from Shakespeare, right here, by the wolves."

"What speech?"

"Oh, you know the one."

"Obviously I don't. 'Wherefore art thou, Romeo?'"

"No, not that one. The one with 'quintessence of dirt' in it. Oh, you know, it's a famous one. Macbeth maybe."

"No, not ringing any bells."

"About the nature of man…"

"All the world's a stage?"

"No, not that. Oh, you know it—I can't remember now. It was raining down and he was reciting it to the wolves."

"Why to the wolves?"

"Because they were there. His friend had gone."

"What was his friend's name? Maybe that will remind me."

"I can't remember his name. I'm not sure the friend ever gets named."

"In the whole movie? No one ever says, 'Hey whatsyername, answer that phone' or something like that?"

"No. I mean, I'm pretty sure. The film's from his point of view. They go see the uncle and he gives them the cottage and they go on holiday."

"Oh, yeah, I kind of remember that one."

"Anyway he has that speech—"

"He does? Or the other one?"

"The other one, all right. But he gives that speech at the end of the movie and his only audience is the wolves and it's very significant."

"Why?"

"Well, because he goes on to be a great actor and you can see it in that moment. It's the beginning of better things."

"Oh."

"So I thought it would be appropriate—"

"What's the speech again?"

"It's about man's place in the world, the sky above, the ground below and how grand it all is. Quintessence of dirt."

"What does that mean anyway?"

"Like the epitome of dirt, I guess."

"Wouldn't that be a bad thing though?"

"No, not really—I think you're missing the point. It's poetry like."

"But it must mean something. If you're the epitome of dirt, you're still dirt."

"But don't you see—I mean, it's Shakespeare. Poetry."

"Ironic, you mean?"

"Well, not necessarily ironic but poetic. What's the word? Metaphor."

"Metaphor? That's when you compare things?"

"Sort of."

"So, what? The wolves respond to metaphor? Oi, wolves! Metaphorse for me."

"You're thinking metamorphoses. That's changing."

"Evolving. What would wolves evolve into?"

"Don't change the subject."

"What was the subject? This stupid movie?"

"It's not the movie, it's the speech."

"What about it anyway? You can't even remember what Shakespeare it's from."

"The play isn't important."

"The play's the thing—isn't that Shakespeare too?"

"Probably. But what I was saying—"

"Every famous quote comes from Shakespeare, doesn't it? Why is that?"

"I don't know. But the speech—"

"All the world's a stage, the play's the thing, the face that launched a thousand ships…"

"Yeah, but what I wanted to say—"

"Are they all from Hamlet? No some must be from comedies. Wait, Hamlet—that's the one. It comes from there."

"What does?"

"Your speech."

"Right, that's it. I'm sure it is. And the reason I—"

"Lots of good ones come from that play—isn't it bad luck to say the name? 'Bare bodkin': we always had a giggle at that one in school."

"Look, I wanted to say—"

"And there's a joke about privates, too. Miss, we'd say, could you read that part again, we didn't understand it. Hilarious!"

"Never mind that. I was talking about—"

"Do you suppose writers do that on purpose? Put in jokes like that?"

"I don't know. I don't care."

"What was that?"

"What?"

"That little box you threw into the pen."

"Nothing."

"Look, that wolf is trying to eat it. What is it?"

"Nothing. Never mind. Let's go have a drink."

"You're funny today."

"Yeah. Maybe Shakespeare wrote me."

"Ha, that's funny. So what was that box?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

Tuesday's Overlooked A/V: The Royle Family

I know some of you will immediately say, "Overlooked, my arse!" since it's on UK Gold regularly. But as the majority of my readers here are Americans, I feel justified in the choice -- besides, when do I pass by a chance to share this terrific show? The Royle Family was created by writer/director Caroline Aherne and her writing partner Craig Cash, who also starred in it as Denise Royle and her husband Dave Best. Jim, the patriarch of the Royles was played by Ricky Tomlinson and Sue Johnston starred as Barbara, his long-suffering wife. Her mother was played by the legendary Liz Smith and their very put-upon dogsbody/son Antony was Ralf Little. Regular cast members included Jessica (Spaced) Stevenson as the ever-dieting Cheryl and Geoffrey (Keeping Up Appearances) Hughes as the extremely dodgy Twiggy.

Nothing much ever happened at the Royles. Most episodes they sat talking to each other while watching television, hardly glancing at one other, the narratives mostly unfolding in real time with no laugh track. It may take a whole episode to get used to the family dynamics, but like all character-driven comedy, knowing those characters gives you incredible elasticity. While I always think of this as one of the consistently laugh-out-loud funny programmes ever, it also has some of the most touching moments ever televised as well: Denise's wedding day, when her waters break and of course, "The Queen of Sheba" Nana's passing.

It's my goal to be as phenomenally lazy as Denise. I've got a ways to go.

I got to introduce the QoE and Marko to a little bit of the Royles while they were visiting. The Xmas episode is a rare step outside Jim and Barbara's house to Denise and Dave's. Guest star Tom Courtenay (yes, really!) steals the show as Dave's bizarre dad. I love how he says, "Bar-berra" and of course the tropical punch and the whole turkey emergency. Some clips to give you a taste and as always, check out the rest of the recommended A/V over at Todd's blog.

Tuesday's Overlooked A/V: The Bedsitter

I have featured Tony Hancock before on a Tuesday (though I don't seem to have done The Rebel yet which amazes me; and this reminds me too that I haven't yet done the apocalyptic comedy The Bedsitting Room). This is an episode of the half hour shows, but an unusual one as it's the first after he decided to end the partnership with Sid James and to move from the original setting at 23 Railway Cuttings, East Cheam to a bedsit in Earl's Court. To signal the change, this first episode of the last season (1961) features Hancock completely on his own. This solo exploration of boredom offers a wonderful showcase of Hancock's timing and precision without the exuberant foil of Sid's unflappable humour. And it's marvelous -- just marvelous.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

I'm off teaching the doctoral students in digital humanities today, so amuse yourself by checking out all the other overlooked gems at Todd's blog. With luck, I'll get to the P-Con recap tomorrow, although I am teaching as usual on Wednesday (it never ends, eh?).

BitchBuzz: Why the Blackout Mattered

An unusual day: me away from the net. Be honest -- you didn't really notice I was gone, did you? It's all right. I know occasionally I should take a break from yammering across all media. Besides, I took some more lovely photographs over in Salthill. Nothing jazzes up a photo like a happy, bouncing Lab.

I also managed to finish a story and send it off to my editor: it was meant to be 5K but ended up closer to 8K. Also not like me: if you get paid the same, why go over the target? Well, sometimes the story demands it. Characters can be so pushy. Thinking about tonight's Over the Edge reading, I also thought I should have something on hand to read in case I can get on the list, so I finally started writing the new novel. Yes, about time after thinking about it for so long. It reminded me that the best way to edit your writing is to read it out loud. I know that, but I seem to always forget it. You may ask, how's that academic essay coming along? [cough] Today for sure! Here: go read Peter Cook's Jekyll and Hyde script and stop hassling me.

Better yet, go read the column, featuring a rudely hilarious animated GIF from The Oatmeal:

Why the Blackout Mattered

K. A. Laity

After some speculation about whether they would take part, it was telling that Google applied the now familiar black censorship bar over their corporate logo (in the U.S. anyway—Google.ie continued in normal mode). More obvious homes of net freedom like Boing-Boing, Reddit, Wikipedia and Wordpress likewise blacked out for the day, but the participation of Google confirmed the broadening opinion that even for a mega-global outfit like Google SOPA and PIPA continue to be very bad ideas.

The so-called "Stop Online Piracy Act" and the "Protect IP Act" would radically affect everyone who uses the net, by making a criminal of anyone who links to anything deemed to be copyrighted material as explained by the always insightful Stephen Colbert. Why catch criminals when you can make everyone a criminal? Anyone who thinks that of course the laws won't be abused this way by corporations should follow the horrifying saga of how the Recording Industry Association of American (RIAA) and the Motion Picture Association of America (MPAA) have already invoked draconian measures against anyone they can catch—apparently because they're frustrated with not being able to catch real criminals.

People who do not understand the internet should not be legislating for its control; the sad fact is they allow corporations like the RIAA and MPAA to do it for them. While many people will support measures to stop internet piracy, those who do not comprehend how these poorly written measures will forever change the net need to know that Facebook, Twitter and all the rest will be as dead as Napster should SOPA or PIPA pass...

Read the rest at BBHQ. And hey, call your representatives and remind them they represent you and not multimillionaire corporations: fight the real enemy.

 

Friday's Forgotten Books: Young Men in Spats

"I never want to see anyone, and I never want to go anywhere or do anything. I just want to write." 

-- P. G. Wodehouse

There's some kind of fundamental perversity in my nature that made me choose at the library this week a 5 CD unabridged set of Beckett's Malone Dies as well as P. G. Wodehouse's Young Men in Spats, but I'll leave you to sort out what that means.

Wodehouse's prose delights. A simple yet profound pleasure, one that most Americans in particular seem immune to -- a phenomenon I cannot comprehend. I suppose I can grasp there are those who dislike spending time with the (mostly) rich young things idling their time in (mostly) frivolous ways, as does Wodehouse's most well-known creation Bertie Wooster. More folks became enamored of them when Bertie and the inimitably shimmering Jeeves were brought to vivid life by Hugh Laurie and Stephen Fry (who seemed born to take the roles). But it's also true that Wodehouse has never received the acclaim more dour writers regularly do, because he makes everything seem so effortless. The key word there is seem: as Oscar Wilde could tell you, there's nothing that takes more effort than creating prose that feels effortless.

Wodehouse is a genius. While his topics may be nothing earth-shattering, his prose captures a crystalline brightness that seems impossible to replicate. It's so deft. So I will just share some of the delights from this volume detailing the exploits of some of the young men of "a little group of Eggs and Beans and Crumpets" who often regard women as a separate species:

"It saddened him, he tells me, when he opened his illustrated tabloid of a morning, to have to try to eat eggs and bacon while gazing at a photograph of Mae Belle McGinnis, taken when she was not looking her best because Mr. McGinnis had just settled some domestic dispute with the meat-axe."

"The foundation of the beverage manufactured by Mr. Silvers seemed to be neat vitriol, but, once you had got used to the top of your head going up and down like the lid of a kettle with boiling water in it, the effects were far from unpleasant."

"And on the morning of which I speak they had strolled into into the Thorpe and Widgery emporium to lay in a few little odds and ends, and there, putting in a bid for five pounds of streaky bacon, was a girl so lovely that they congealed in their tracks."

"The first intimation Barmy had that the binge was going to be run on lines other than those which he had anticipated was when a very stout Mother in a pink bonnet and a dress covered with bugles suddenly picked off a passing cyclist with a well-directed tomato, causing him to skid into a ditch, Upon which, all sixteen mothers laughed like fiends in hell, and it was plain that they considered the proceedings had now been formally opened."

"Already the barmaid's ears had begun to work loose at the roots as she pricked them up."

"Well, Freddie, as you know, has never been the dreamy meditative type. I would describe him as essentially the man of action. And he acted now as never before. He tells me he doubts if a chamois of the Alps, unless at the end of a most intensive spell of training, could have got down the stairs quicker than he did."

"He had studied Woman, and he knew that when Woman gets into a tight place her first act is to shovel the blame off on to the nearest male."

   See the rest of the overlooked books at Patti Abbott's blog.

Know-vember: Paul D. Brazill

Welcome, Mr B, the bard of Hartlepool, the dazzler of Bydgoszcz, intoxicating scribe of darkly funny tales, like the mordantly funny but gruesome Drunk on the Moon. What's better than a werewolf PI? How about six more rip-snorting, can't-put-'em-down stories about Roman Dalton, all just a bargain at 99¢? Best of all, lucky number seven It's a Curse is by yours truly (more on that soon). You'll enjoy getting to know Dalton's dark world. Mr B and I appear together in the pages of the noir issue of Blink|Ink and in the premier International Noir anthology from Dark Pages, a new imprint from Trestle Press (out today!). I could go on, but let's have a few words from the man himself. I suggest you pour yourself a stiff drink first.

1. What's the first thing you do upon waking in the morning?

I never wake up in the morning. I need be up and about for at least three hours before I start to wake up. It usually goes downhill after that.

2. What's a song you might be persuaded to dance to?

Agadoo by Black Lace. Including the movements. Especially the dirty version.

3. Where in the world do you live?

Bydgoszcz. I discovered it after getting a really bad collection of letters when playing scrabble.

4. What's a great night out for you?

Something to do with boozing.

5. What's a great night in?

See above.

6. If you were offered an all expenses paid trip anywhere in the world, where would you go?

The Edith Beales' Grey Gardens.

7. What book do you wish everyone would read so you could talk about it?

Anything written by me. I'd never lose interest.

8. What movie makes you cry?

Terminator: Sarah Connor's fringe is tragic.

9. What makes you laugh?

Bono.

10. Are there fairies at the bottom of your garden?

Yes, but they're buried deep, deep, down.

You're a cruel man, but fair. Cheers.

Know-vember: Barry Leary

I should be in Dublin with Elena and Rod today, which is just as well considering my current guest here: Barry is shy. He's also an artist. We may have been standing next to each other at the big Rothko exhibit at the Tate Modern a few years back, both gazing in rapt awe, but not noticing one another. No, we had to run into each other on Twitter. Fortunately, we did. He's even put in a tentative foot into the Facebook world, though he tends to post a few pictures and then run off again. He can be coaxed out again with sweets, I have discovered.

1. What's the first thing you do upon waking in the morning?

Turn the computer on.

2. What's a song you might be persuaded to dance to?

Dress - PJ Harvey.

3. Where in the world do you live?

Mainly but not exclusively in my head.

4. What's a great night out for you?

No such thing as a great night out at my age :-) (I might be lying)

5. What's a great night in?

A great night in of course means drawing and books and sweets and more books and more drawing and sweets and music. Did I mention sweets ? Hope so.

6. If you were offered an all expenses paid trip anywhere in the world, where would you go?

Rajasthan.
 
7. What book do you wish everyone would read so you could talk about it?

Proust.

8. What movie makes you cry?

Magnolia (but only once).

9. What makes you laugh?

I Heart Huckabees.

10. Are there fairies at the bottom of your garden?

Not under that much concrete I should think.

Or they're suffering if they are o_O! Thank you for letting me bully you into this :-) Here's a lovely photo Barry took: beautiful. And hey, it's Peter Cook's birthday.

Know-vember: Mr Tumshie

All right, it's not his real name, but if you're on Twitter (as so many of us are) that's how you know him. A canny chess player, a friendly chauffeur (^_^) and blipper of tunes, Mr Tumshie keeps us all amused with his sardonic humour. But he won't let me tell you his real name because he's shy. Or the church police are after him. Or maybe it's just a fear of ocelots. Yes, I think it must be the latter.

1. What's the first thing you do upon waking in the morning?

Work out where I am, shortly followed by sighing with disappointment at where I'm not.

2. What's a song you might be persuaded to dance to?

Not sure I should say but the one I find hardest to resist is Night Boat To Cairo by Madness.

3. Where in the world do you live?

I live here -- what a silly question!

4. What's a great night out for you?

A drink with friends, preferably after a concert by a good band.

5. What's a great night in?

Being alone with that special someone -- everything else is just details.

6. If you were offered an all expenses paid trip anywhere in the world, where would you go?

Well, I've been to Paradise but I've never been to me. I looked on maps but couldn't find it so that's where I'd like to go. I hope the weather is better there.

7. What book do you wish everyone would read so you could talk about it?

Tiger's Modern by Grandmaster Tiger Hillarp Persson. For some reason most of my friends don't read chess books. Their loss.

8. What movie makes you cry?

Difficult to answer that one as I'm not much of a one for watching things that make me cry. I have wept with laughter watching Way Out West -- will that do?

9. What makes you laugh?

Lots of things make me laugh. Clever puns are a favourite maybe. Silly cleverness or clever silliness might be a better answer.

10. Are there fairies at the bottom of your garden?

No, the leprechauns chased them all away.

Alas! Thanks, Mr T.

Know-vember: Paul Hamilton

Tuesday is usually Overlooked A/V Day, so it seems entirely appropriate to give the day over to a Know-vemberist who is also in the music world (and the only one to include an advertisement along with his responses). He's pictured here with one of his heroes, Kevin Godley (himself on the left, God on the right). I first met Aitch because of the Peter Cook Appreciation Society for which he has been one of the guiding forces as well as co-author with Peter Gordon of How Very Interesting: Peter Cook's Universe and All That Surrounds It, which I have recommended before. Let the madness ensue --

1. What's the first thing you do upon waking in the morning?

I kick the crackers out of my bed and send them back to Georgia. Then I like to do a spot of light dusting. Why I insist on fluttering at ceiling height placing dust particles on light bulbs is a matter of free choice - and the 12 men pointing guns at me and barking "PUT ZE DUST ON ZER LIGHT!" all day long.

2. What's a song you might be persuaded to dance to?

Discreet Music by Brian Eno turned up incredibly quiet - even better, if the speakers were disconnected from the gramophone. I love a good singalong - that "Yo-o heave-ho" song softly bellowed by freshly-starved oarsman. My ideal job would be as the supplier to their caterer.

3. Where in the world do you live?

In Cognito, a suburb of Limbo. As a would-be record mogul [www.smokingantrecords.com, thrill-seekers], I have found the music industry to be a minefield; everywhere you go, there's always someone shouting "That's MINE! MINE!"

4. What's a great night out for you?

Standing in the street watching my house burn down.

5. What's a great night in?

Looking out the window watching the street burn down.

6. If you were offered an all expenses paid trip anywhere in the world, where would you go?

Somewhere mercifully free of dust-obsessed men pointing guns at me. I was told that Prague was 'an experience' so I went there and there was no experience to be experienced at all. It was just like Leeds but with a slightly more decipherable dialect. The only good thing about Leeds is you get robbed very quickly: I got off the train, went to the first pub I saw and within 10 minutes my wallet was purloined. So I quaffed my half of Orphan's Piss and got the next train home. Perhaps the cutpurses of Leeds knew that I couldn't contain my disappointment any longer. Thanks, boys!

7. What book do you wish everyone would read so you could talk about it?

Yours, of course! [ED: awww] Well - now that you've disconnected the electrodes from my wand o' lust - I'm not a big book reader. Anything over six foot square I find hard to concentrate on; mainly because of the blood in my legs failing to circulate. 'Six Foot Square' - not a bad name for an address…
So, yes, any book that doesn't give me varicose veins or thrombosis is all right in my book (which is extremely small and tethered to a melange of balloons).

8. What movie makes you cry?

As time roars off in a flash car filled with youthful gaiety, leaving me choking on the dust which I must collect and sprinkle on light bulbs, I find that the things that made me hoot with laughter as a bouncing baby (I was born with springs for legs) now distress me. The last 10 minutes of Peter Cook & Dudley Moore's Bedazzled, for example, has me in tears these days - it's so empathetically written (Stanley Moon [crestfallen]: "Being me didn't seem like very much at the time…" George Spiggott: "Well… it wasn't very much… but it's a good deal better than the alternatives." Stanley: "(Sighs)… I'd give… anything… to be myself again but… I don't have anything to give, really, do I?").

9. What makes you laugh?

Yes, the word 'What' makes me laugh [ED: groan]. I bought a magazine called 'What's On TV' in the hope it would list all the programmes that mention the W word. Imagine my crushing disappointment. Suckered by The Man! However, to staunch the flow of sad, sour teardrops, I have a dictionary to hand and can look at the word 'What'. Failing that, I can consult the phone directory and call up some people called 'Watt' and say, 'Watt?' They invariably reply, 'What?' And, whilst fluttering around the ceiling performing my light dusting, I notice that the bulbs are 100 Watts and this has me grinning like a man who has caught a freshly-flung dinner plate with his mouth.

10. Are there fairies at the bottom of your garden?

I have no idea what could be living in Graeme Garden's bottom.

And now the advertisement:

Paul Hamilton's albums include 'Play For Today' by Bisonics and 'Only Two Can Play' by Doug Murphy & Paul Hamilton. Hear, see, feel and sniff  them at https://www.facebook.com/pages/Bisonics/106739522693898 or even BUY them at http://www.smokingantrecords.com/shop/ why don'tcha? Bisonics' second album, 'Seconds' (you see what they did there?), will be unleashed around Xmas/New Year. He has just finished recording another album with Jazz Cattle and has financed 'The Luckless Pedestrian Years' the debut album by G.T. Thomas.

Know-vember: Jeanne Andrew

Meet the fabulous Jeanne Andrew, a most amusing and lovely woman. I met her on Twitter, part of the extended network of Scots that I have somehow found myself amongst. She's a "stand down" comedian and budding screenwriter and writes a blog appropriately named "Funny Girl" -- and she's a lot of fun.

1. What's the first thing you do upon waking in the morning?

Shut off the alarm! If it’s a good morning I bounce out of bed, wake my daughter, get washed and dressed then head downstairs to start making breakfast. On a bad one, I give my partner a dig in the ribs, grunt and go back to sleep.

2. What's a song you might be persuaded to dance to?

Might? I don’t need much persuasion. I’ll boogie on down to almost anything especially while I’m cooking. Right now, my favourite is “You And I” by the Mother Monster herself, Lady Gaga.

3. Where in the world do you live?

I live in Tollcross, which is what you say when you don’t want to admit to living in Parkhead in Glasgow. We live near Tollcross Park.

4. What's a great night out for you?

Great food – Japanese, Spanish tapas or Tex Mex and lots of plum wine, Long Island Iced Tea or frozen margaritas followed by either a cracking movie in a comfy cinema with big seats or even couches like the Grosvenor in Hillhead and a family bag of Maltesers or a rollicking good laugh watching some home-grown stand-up comedy like Janey Godley or Scott Agnew. By then I’m usually flagging…but I’d love to go dancing after. 

5. What's a great night in?

Friends over for some grub and grog and gabbing, preferably round a fire out in the back garden on a starry night.

6. If you were offered an all expenses paid trip anywhere in the world, where would you go?

San Francisco to find Barbary Lane (from Armistead Maupin’s Tales Of The City) and then up to Portland to see Christian Kane playing at Dante’s.

7. What book do you wish everyone would read so you could talk about it?

I don’t hold with there being a “must-read” for everyone because we’re all different. I tend to talk books with my teenage daughter – we like ones such as The Sookie Stackhouse Mysteries by Charlaine Harris or The Chicagoland Vampires series by Chloe Neill.

8. What movie makes you cry?

A Matter Of Life And Death – the Powell and Pressburger one about the British airman played by David Niven who is shoot down in WW2 but doesn’t die as expected and falls in love with an American radio operator played by Kim Hunter. He has to go on trial to stay living. It was my dad’s favourite film.

9. What makes you laugh?

Filth. Absolute filth and bawdy badinage, usually with my Twitter Twibe. Plus great comedians like Janey Godley, Jo Caulfield and Jo Brand. I love “Getting On”.

10. Are there fairies at the bottom of your garden?

If there are then they are like The Wee Free Men. But I fear the dog has eaten them all because I’ve never seen any.

Ah, the poor wee men! Thanks, Jeanne!

Tuesday's Overlooked A/V: Do Not Adjust Your Set

I'm looking forward to Holy Flying Circus tomorrow night, the documentary on the fight against the Python's Life of Brian. I know I've likely seen a lot of the footage already, but I'm sure it will be enjoyable nonetheless. Good example of how bonkers people can get over something they assume will offend them. At heart, Brian is a very moral film, which focuses on the all-too familiar foibles of human behaviour. Ah, but if you're reading this you likely already know that.

Something you might not know about is Do Not Adjust Your Set, one of the many training grounds for the future Pythons, like The Frost Report and At Last the 1948 Show (source of the original Four Yorkshiremen sketch). DNAYS featured Michael Palin and Terry Jones (who had also worked on The Complete and Utter History of Britain) as well as Eric Idle. This was a kids show, which is kind of stunning (although if you look at a lot of the mad kids show at the time, perhaps not quite so odd) so a lot of the humour is very nonsensical in the Goons/Spike Milligan/NOBA vein of absurdity. You can really see the connections between the Pythons and what came before them.

Of course one of the key reasons to see DNAYS is the Bonzo Dog Band. Why anyone thought they were safe for children, I don't know. The ginger geezer Vivian Stanshall and the delightfully daffy Neil Innes headed a rotating roster of musicians but those two were really the magnets. I've gone on at length about both of them, so if you don't know them yet, you should stop reading right now and just go look at the videos widely available at a certain tubish site.

A fave moment, appropriate for the season: the Bonzos sing "Monster Mash" for your delight.




As usual, find the whole roundup of overlooked a/v over at Sweet Freedom.

Tuesday's Overlooked Media: Hancock's Half Hour

I may well be cheating by having used Hancock's Half Hour before (although if I weren't too lazy to do a search myself, I suspect it may actually have been one of the films, either The Punch and Judy Man or The Rebel). However, as I'm without cable or internet at home, I have been entertaining myself when too tired to write anymore by working my way through the 8 DVD set of Tony's best half hours. Appropriately enough for Talk Like a Pirate Day, I was watching this episode last night where Anthony pulls out his fine Robert Newton impression to do Hamlet's soliloquy. Arr, Jim boy!

Enjoy :-)

As always, drop by Todd's place to get the full round up of AV gems.

Tuesday's Overlooked Films: The School for Scoundrels

Heartsick watching the events in London -- and seeing them spread across the country. I hope things are better today. I cannot remain transfixed by the news on Twitter, as I must try to get some work done. So here's a mood lightener, the classic comedy The School for Scoundrels (1960) with Terry-Thomas playing his best cad ever and Ian Carmichael as the most put-upon nice guy around. Don't worry, nice guys win in the end, of course. Fantastic supporting cast including Irene Handl, Alastair Sim, Dennis Price and John Le Mesurier. Hard cheese!



As always, see Sweet Freedom for a round-up of other overlooked A/V.

Comedy Classics: The Running, Jumping & Standing Still Film

Hectic day ahead, much to do so I leave you some entertainment by way of one of Richard Lester's early films featuring the Goons Spike Milligan and Peter Sellers as well as other luminaries. If you don't know it, you should. If you do know it, isn't it great to see it again?

Much Ado about Ghosts

First things, first: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE QUEEN OF EVERYTHING!!

My latest column exploits my theatre madness by making it work (as if seeing a good play were really work, but shhh! mustn't let people know how much fun we're having, right?). I ran off to the theatre after a good chat with pal Gordon Murphy which was much fun. Must do it again. But here's the write up:

David Tennant & Catherine Tate Do Shakespeare

By K.A. Laity

What we really need isn't a summer blockbuster, but a summer fling.

The Wyndham's lively 80s-themed production of Shakespeare's most popular comedy, Much Ado About Nothing, as directed by Josie Rourke offers a sunnily irresistible brightness. Despite its self-deprecating title, this frothy comedy has at its heart a painful tragedy: the ease with which men in power can destroy the lives of women on a whim. It doesn't help that the lover in question, Claudio, is a drama queen of the first order. He falls madly in love and when his boss Don Pedro works to persuade the girl to wed his friend, immediately assumes the prince wants her for himself and bitterly pouts until assured the wooing was done entirely in Claudio's name...

Read the rest over at BBHQ: http://culture.bitchbuzz.com/david-tennant-catherine-tate-do-shakespeare.html#ixzz1OroHmhBg

Yesterday I headed over to the Tate Modern, where I was delighted to find the Rothkos back from their tour and safely ensconced in their little temple of quiet. Good to have that little oasis available again. Withluck -- if I figure out how to get there, I will be seeing Sarah Angliss/Spacedog tonight in Hackney at an unusual event. Anon -- more fun than writing at present :-)

Waiting for the End of the World

Feel free to sing along as we perish -- or not. On the plus side, it would save a lot of paperwork; on the other hand, I know I have a lot of things to do yet.

The Little Video of Calm

In the midst of the mad swirl of our lives, we all need a little moment of calm. Lacking The Little Book of Calm, I try to conjure up soothing images of relaxing situations. Because I love mudlarking along the Thames, I took this video to remind me of those moments of calm.





Of course sometimes I try to relieve stress by simply doing very silly things. Recently YouTube introduced new programs where you can make animation of whatever you like. Yes, if this sounds rather like the video I made for the Women's League of Ale Drinkers, well, it is very much like that. In an idle moment, I decided to animate the lyrics to The Fall's "Dice Man" [based on the cult novel and NOT that crap 'comedian'] and it looks like this:





Silly: but sometimes that's just what you need, right? Well, sure -- some people write poetry -- but I seem to only be able to write asinine poetry. In the meanwhile, I find there is so little time, so much to do.

Tuesday's Overlooked Film: The Punch and Judy Man (+news)

So, I guess I should mention that I will have a piece in an upcoming gallery show: yes, me. I know, I know: not my usual sort of announcement, but there it is. The show is "Text as Art" and it will open on February 28th at the Arts Center of the Capital Region. Doubtless there will be pictures and what not: I can't wait to see what all will be in the show. My piece is called "The Square Root of I is I" and grew from my recognition of Nabokov's influence on me and trying to make manifest the often invisible effect of those giants on whose shoulders we perch. I found out I had been accepted Sunday at the monthly Poetry & Prose Open Mic that Dan Wilcox and Nancy Klepsch run at the Center, always a great event. I read "Dear Friend" which is always fun.

Let me remember to put this first for once: visit Todd's blog for a round up of all the TOFs.

I had meant to write about both The Rebel and The Punch and Judy Man, but I think I'll save the former for a later post. I had not got around to this Tony Hancock film because most people told me it was quite a disappointment and not at all good. While unsuccessful in many ways, there's a lot interesting in the film, too. Not least of which is the cast: regulars from Hancock's Half Hour appear here, including Hattie Jacques, Hugh Lloyd and Mario Fabrizi, plus Sylvia Syms and the incomparable John Le Mesurier, who plays a sand sculptor maintaining a vestige of shabby gentility in a shack by the shore. Hancock is the titular puppeteer, accustomed to the roaming life yet married to the dishy Syms, who wants to better her lot. From the start, there's a mismatch between the characters: it mirrors the mismatch between the aims of the film. It starts out with a kind of gritty, kitchen-sink feel, then careers into farcical comedy, then back again. Hancock's woebegone face seems perfect for a taut examination of the woes of differing marital ambitions, but then we swing out to the matey fun on the shore with all the crazy characters. But there are individual bits of the film that are simply sublime.

The tête-à-tête between Hancock and Le Mesurier in his little shack offers a sweetly sad moment, as you see how the artist's life has been slowly eroded away until he is left with almost nothing, yet he continues to maintain a sense of style and propriety that gives a gentle dignity to his tiny world. Even if you know nothing of the peculiar developments within their relationship, it's easy to see how comfortable the two were with one another in this scene. Hancock can do so much without a word; it's a delight to watch emotions play over his expressive face. When he accidentally bursts into the lingerie shop, the myriad swiftly changing emotions are pure pleasure. I love the elegant evening that devolves into a bun fight, and while many reviewers have focused on the climactic fist fight between Syms' Delia and the cultured Lady Jane as a misogynistic moment, the class elements seem so central I guess I don't read it that way at all. It is about deflating Delia's pretension to social climbing, but it makes the object of her aspirations so unworthy that it doesn't really seem like her failing. She ends up with a black eye, but you have a satisfying feeling that the smug Lady Jane has a bigger one.

Flawed for sure -- it would have been better if they'd gone for the gritty and sad, or else made it a lot more funny, but it's not without its charms and the snapshot of seaside life, a world already eroding in the 1960s, is quite beautiful in its way.

Friday's Forgotten Books: Three Men in a Boat

This might be an odd choice for "forgotten": after all it's a classic, at least as acknowledged by humorists. But I find that the "in print" edition listed on Amazon (that gauge of what's available) is actually a CreateSpace edition, though there's a Tor edition from 2001. I am pleased to see that the version illustrated by comedian Vic Reeves has been scheduled for release here in May.

 Jerome asserts that the strength of this narrative is its root in the truth. "There were four of us," he begins, "George, and William Samuel Harris and myself, and Montmorency. We were sitting in my room, smoling, and talking about how bad we were -- bad from a medical point of view I mean, of course." After discussing various symptoms and ailments (like the Beowulf poet, Jerome's digressions from the stated purpose prove infinitely entertaining), they hit upon the idea of a a trip up the river as a perfect solution.

It hardly seems the sort of genius stroke it proves to be. The novel follows that meandering path of the Thames with a gentle but persistent humor that sneaks up on the reader. You find yourself laughing out loud at the oddest things. And between the comic moments, Jerome slips in moments of poignancy and even history with painless deftness. Sometimes they all combine at once, as when he describes the effect of a hearty meal on the cranky boaters.

It is very strange, this domination of our intellect by our digestive organs. We cannot work, we cannot think, unless our stomach wills so. It dictates our emotions, our passions. After eggs and bacon, it says: 'Work!' After beefsteak and porter, it says: 'Sleep!' After a cup of tea (two spoonfuls for each cup, and don't let it stand for more than three minutes), it says to the brain: 'Now, rise, and show your strength. Be eloquent, and deep,  and tender; see with a clear eye, into Nature and into life; spread your white wings of quivering thought, and soar, a godlike spirit, over the whirling world beneath you, up through the long lanes of flaming stars to the gates of eternity!'

The book has been a favourite of many. It spawned Connie Willis' To Say Nothing of the Dog (the subtitle of Jerome's tome). Not gut-busting humor, but an inviting story you would be glad to encounter at any time. Like the friend you're glad to see, especially when you don't have time, but gladly neglect your duties to idle away the afternoon. When you find someone who's read it, you need only smile and say "the cheese!" and the two of you will be old friends.

Perhaps the best film version is the one that has a script by Tom Stoppard: Michael Palin has said he counts it among the finest work he has done and remains quite proud of having been in it with Tim Curry (as J) and Stephen Moore (George). Stoppard's script captures the heart of the book, but the biggest laughs end up falling in different places due to the switch from verbal to visual. It only makes sense, after all.

You can find the complete list of FFBs at Patti Abbott's blog.

I have more reviews to write: Fela! the National Theatre broadcast from this week and Mike Leigh's Another Year which I saw yesterday afternoon when I ought to have been working. To say nothing of the hot chocolate I drank while lounging in the café after the film...