Thursday, March 26, 2015


It was a Saturday evening ten years ago today. I plopped my six-month old daughter in my lap in front of the television, all because once upon a time there used to be this thing that I loved. I loved it a lot. And it was there throughout my childhood until one day it wasn't any more. As I grew older, I forgot about it a little bit. Until I forgot about it a lot.

I heard the odd rumbling every now and then that it was coming back. To be honest, I wasn't even that excited. It had tried to come back before.

Yet there I was, sitting there, my gurgling, squirming progeny cradled in the crook of my arms. I leaned in towards my daughter’s ear and I said: “This is Doctor Who. You’re gonna love it.”

The music started. That music. That strange, ethereal, swooping music. And that little blue box from years gone by was suddenly back - swirling and hurtling into a cascading blue vortex. In so many ways, it all came rushing back.

"I'm the Doctor, by the way, what's your name?"
"Nice to meet you, Rose. Run for your life!"

People sometimes like to say that the hairs stand up on the back of their neck, but they don’t mean it most of the time. Not really. It’s just evocative shorthand.

You know what? The hairs did stand up on the back of my neck.

From a dispassionate, purely objective, critical point of view, it wasn't perfect. It was slightly clunky and ramshackle in the endearing way that it always had been. Thing is: I’m not a dispassionate person. To me, it was perfection.

I was right, by the way, she did grow up to love it. Keep running, Doctor.

UPDATE: When I wrote the above, I hadn't yet read the below. Great minds and all that...

Tuesday, March 24, 2015

Dear Mr. Vernon...

"We're all pretty bizarre. Some of us are just better at hiding it, that's all."

Thirty-one years since those eight hours and fifty-four minutes of detention within the concrete walls of Shermer High School. Thirty-one years since the Glorious Ruckus of The Breakfast Club.

Things I know now that I didn't back then, looking down the barrel of the last thirty-one years:

When you grow up, your heart doesn't die. Quite the opposite, in fact. Although there'll be plenty of days when you wish otherwise.

In so many ways, on every precarious level of the scaffolding on which we construct our lives, screws do fall out all the time. The world is an imperfect place.

I still don't know what the naked lady with a poodle under her arm says to the bartender. Because...the world is an imperfect place.

Being bad does feel pretty good.

I used to wear a fingerless leather glove, just like John Bender. I didn't buy it. I found it on the platform at Bayswater station on a boozy teenage Friday night and kept it. Until an ex-girlfriend threw it away years later. I feel more like Bender now than I did then. I've got a real problem with authority figures…

Unlike Bender, I've never worn an earring.

Does that answer your question?
Sincerely yours, The Breakfast Club.

Thursday, March 05, 2015

Listomania! A Decade-by-Decade Spectacular!

It all started on Tuesday morning when I noticed the #90sTen hashtag on Twitter. So I chimed in. A couple of hours later I spotted #30sTen. Then last night around midnight I thought I’d fill in the gaps to appease my thirst for symmetry.

I don’t sleep much.

So here are those Lists of Movies I Love in their entirety. The usual don’t-argue-with-me caveats apply: lists are subjective / personal / meaningless / idiosyncratic / a bit silly / subject to change at any moment. And they aren't ranked - it’s just ten per decade (with a Bonus Round of five for Our Decade In Progress) - don’t read anything into the order I've placed them in. Here we go...

The 1930s

The Edge of the World (1937 - Michael Powell)
It Happened One Night (1934 - Frank Capra)
M (1931 - Fritz Lang)
Ninotchka (1939 - Ernst Lubitsch)
Nothing Sacred (1937 - William A. Wellman)
Das Testament des Dr. Mabuse (1933 - Fritz Lang)
The Thin Man (1934 - W.S. Van Dyke)
Topper (1937 - Norman Z. McLeod)
Vampyr (1932 - Carl Theodor Dreyer)
The Wizard of Oz (1939 - Victor Fleming)

The 1940s

Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein (1948 - Charles Barton)
L'assassin habite au 21 (1942 - Henri-Georges Clouzot)
Ladri di biciclette (1948 - Vittorio De Sica)
The Big Sleep (1946 - Howard Hawks)
It Happened Tomorrow (1944 - René Clair)
The Lady from Shanghai (1947 - Orson Welles)
A Matter of Life and Death (1946 - Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger)
Out of the Past (1947 - Jacques Tourneur)
The Red Shoes (1948 - Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger)
The Set-Up (1949 - Robert Wise)

The 1950s

Ascenseur pour l'échafaud (1958 - Louis Malle)
Les Diaboliques (1955 - Henri-Georges Clouzot)
Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956 - Don Siegel)
The Killing (1956 - Stanley Kubrick)
Rififi (1955 - Jules Dassin)
Rio Bravo (1959 - Howard Hawks)
Le Salaire de la peur (1953 - Henri-Georges Clouzot)
Some Like It Hot (1959 - Billy Wilder)
Tokyo Story (1953 - Yasujirô Ozu)
Touch of Evil (1958 - Orson Welles)

Additional Reading Material - that’s the second appearance of Orson Welles so far, which seems like the perfect opportunity to share once more one of my favourite pieces of Welles frippery - the cantankerous majesty of his Findus Frozen Peas recording session outtakes.

The 1960s

2001: A Space Odyssey (1968 - Stanley Kubrick)
Branded to Kill (1967 - Seijun Suzuki)
Cool Hand Luke (1967 - Stuart Rosenberg)
In the Heat of the Night (1967 - Norman Jewison)
Night of the Living Dead (1968 - George A. Romero)
Once Upon A Time in the West (1968 - Sergio Leone)
Psycho (1960 - Alfred Hitchcock)
Le Samouraï (1967 - Jean-Pierre Melville)
The Wild Bunch (1969 - Sam Peckinpah)
and Leone's Dollars Trilogy (yeah, that’s right, I’m totally cheating)

Additional Reading Material - My 4,000 word piece on Seijun Suzuki’s hazy hitman masterwork Branded to Kill.

The 1970s

Alien (1979 - Ridley Scott)
Assault on Precinct 13 (1976 - John Carpenter)
Chinatown (1974 - Roman Polanski)
Dirty Harry (1971 - Don Siegel)
Enter the Dragon (1973 - Robert Clouse)
The Exorcist (1973 - William Friedkin)
Saturday Night Fever (1977 - John Badham)
Shaft (1971 - Gordon Parks)
Superman (1978 - Richard Donner)
Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory (1971 - Mel Stuart)

The 1980s

48 Hrs. (1982 - Walter Hill)
Back to the Future (1985 - Robert Zemeckis)
Blood Simple (1984 - Joel and Ethan Coen)
The Blues Brothers (1980 - John Landis)
Body Double (1984 - Brian De Palma)
Die Hard (1988 - John McTiernan)
Down By Law (1986 - Jim Jarmusch)
Midnight Run (1988 - Martin Brest)
The Thing (1982 - John Carpenter)
Trading Places (1983 - John Landis)

Additional Reading Material - The highlights of a John Landis Q&A session at the BFI Southbank back in 2010.

The 1990s

Boogie Nights (1997 - Paul Thomas Anderson)
Cop Land (1997 - James Mangold)
Galaxy Quest (1999 - Dean Parisot)
Groundhog Day (1993 - Harold Ramis)
Hard Boiled (1992 - John Woo)
Léon (1994 - Luc Besson)
Miami Blues (1990 - George Armitage)
The Mission (1999 - Johnnie To)
Pulp Fiction (1994 - Quentin Tarantino)
Toy Story (1995 - John Lasseter)

The 2000s

28 Days Later (2002 - Danny Boyle)
Battle Royale (2000 - Kinji Fukasaku)
Black Snake Moan (2006 - Craig Brewer)
Exiled (2006 - Johnnie To)
Ichi the Killer (2001 - Takashi Miike)
Infernal Affairs (2002 - Wai-Keung Lau and Alan Mak)
The School of Rock (2003 - Richard Linklater)
Shaun of the Dead (2004 - Edgar Wright)
Monsters, Inc. (2001 - Pete Docter)
WALL-E (2008 - Andrew Stanton)

Additional Reading Material - From the same publication as my piece on Branded to Kill, here is my article on Battle Royale. This one is super lucky!

2010 to 2015 

Killer Joe (2011 - William Friedkin)
The Lone Ranger (2013 - Gore Verbinski)
Scott Pilgrim vs. The World (2010 - Edgar Wright)
Under the Skin (2013 - Jonathan Glazer)
Wreck-It Ralph (2012 - Rich Moore)

Additional Reading Material - William Friedkin visited London’s BFI Southbank for an on-stage Q&A to coincide with the release of Killer Joe - you can read the highlights here. And I really, really love The Lone Ranger - if you want to know why, click here.

Friday, February 27, 2015

Bills, Thrills and Skills

I’m a big fan of Should I Work For Free? - my personal three-tier approach to anything I write is a little more basic. The following works for me, but I guess it can be applied to any creative endeavour.

If it doesn't pay much (if anything), that’s long as you are having fun.

If it doesn't pay and you aren't enjoying it, then that’s OK long as you are trying something out, teaching yourself how to do something, testing yourself or experimenting in some way.

If it doesn't pay, isn't fun and you aren't learning anything...then you really have to seriously question why the hell you’re bothering with it at all.

All of which can be distilled down to my overriding mantra:

"If you don't take money, they can't tell you what to do." -- Bill Cunningham

Bonus Dictum:

“Art is long and life is short, and success is very far off.” -- Joseph Conrad

Friday, February 20, 2015

Relax - This Won’t Hurt

“The world is still a weird place, despite my efforts to make clear and perfect sense of it.”

The Doctor is Still Out. Hunter Stockton Thompson - ten years gone today. I still remember when I discovered that he’d checked out. Hell, I even wrote about it here.

Ten years on and, if anything, the myth and legend of the Good Doctor has calcified even more to further obscure the Man as Writer. The unseemly deification of his Gonzo persona and storied antics gets in the way of the work after a while, and that’s what I've always really loved about Hunter S. Thompson - the sheer, glorious quality of that prose. I don’t give a shit about drugs, but I get a rush from the catalogue of excess in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. And I definitely give no fucks at all about sport of any kind and I've still read everything he wrote for ESPN. Good writers can make anything interesting.
I thought I’d read it all, and then a couple of weeks ago I tripped over a copy of Ancient Gonzo Wisdom (a collection of transcribed interviews with Thompson) in a remaindered bookstore. I’m still savouring the book in small measured sips rather than a blowout Word Orgy. But I did want to capture just a few excerpts to mark a decade riven with more fear and loathing than ever, but with no Hunter to take aim at it. Selah.

Jerry Williams: Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Were you in your right mind when you wrote most of that book?

HST:(laughs) Really, it’s a very disciplined book. It had about four rewrites. It’s a writer’s book. It’s probably one of the most disciplined things I’ve ever written, much more so than the political writing.

(on WBZ 1030 AM Radio (Boston, Massachusetts) - August 8, 1972)

“Whatever you’re doing, even if it’s crazy, if you get paid for it, well that can’t be insane. There’s insane that’s functional, and there’s insane that’s dysfunctional.”

“The disease is fatal.  There is no known cure.  The most we can do for the poor devil, it seems to me, is to name his disease in his honor. From this moment on, let all those who feel that Americans can be as easily led to beauty as to ugliness, to truth as to public relations, to joy as to bitterness, be said to be suffering from Hunter Thompson's disease.” 

-- Kurt Vonnegut Jr. on HST, from "A Political Disease" (1974), a review of Fear and Loathing: On the Campaign Trail '72

Wednesday, February 18, 2015


I have many nodes on this internetwork we all share, and it’s about damn time that I reminded everyone of all the other places round these here parts that I can be found. Avanti!

Tumblr - A virtual shoebox for me to fill with the pop culture detritus I find whilst carving a swathe through the thick undergrowth of the web. A hearty repast of my current preoccupations and obsessions, leavened with the serendipitous fruits of Google Image Searches Gone Wrong.

Flickr - Sometimes I remember to upload pictures of stuff I've snapped with the glass rectangle I carry in my pocket. This is where they eventually end up.

Twitter - an endless scroll through the scum scraped off the top layer of my brain, served up in easy-to-stomach 140-character portions.

Letterboxd - which allows me to surrender to my incipient Obsessive Compulsions and where I log every film that I watch, occasionally accompanied by capsule reviews (which basically means “idle observations that have just occurred to me”). - what I'm listening to, as I listen to it.

This Is My Jam - A way for me to exorcise ear worms as and when they infect my supratemporal lobe. If it’s going to be stuck in my head, you can be damn sure that I’m going to try and get it stuck in your head too.

Pinboard - On the "About" page on the Pinboard website, it says: "Pinboard is a bookmarking website for introverted people in a hurry." That sounds about right.

I'm also on Google+ and Ello but, honestly, who gives a shit?

Happy Clicking!

Tuesday, January 20, 2015

The Self Preservation Society

Picture this. A coach hanging precariously off the side of a cliff. The most literal cliffhanger of them all.

A tilt one way leads to salvation and, just possibly, other rewards. A tilt the other way...that's a terminal descent into twisted metal and alpine rubble.

That's what my 2015 looks like to me right now.

But take another look. Charlie Croker isn't alone. He's backed up by his co-conspirators and partners in crime.

Which tilts the odds in his favour in all sorts of other ways. On closer inspection, maybe that's what my 2015 looks like right now.

"Hang on a minute lads, I've got a great idea..." 

Thursday, January 08, 2015

Je Suis Charlie

“Journalism is printing what someone else does not want printed: everything else is public relations.” -- George Orwell

Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité

Plus fort que la haine

Tuesday, December 16, 2014

Listomania! My Favourite Films of 2014

You all read my rambling, shambling, ambling stroll through my year at the movies, right? Well, it’s time now for the cold, hard data known as The Best of List. I’ll dispense with the usual caveats about Best Of Lists by distilling it all into this: “This is my list. There are many others like it, but this one is mine.”

Now that’s out of the way, at ease, soldier! Let the Listomania begin! And at the top of the heap is:

Under the Skin (Jonathan Glazer)

Here’s something that doesn't happen very often: There was one scene in Under the Skin (that I’m not going to spoil here) that was so oppressively tense that I think I may have held my breath a couple of times. Another thing that doesn't happen very often: Once the film had ended, I remained rooted to my seat, all the way through the closing credits and beyond to the illumination of the house lights, just sort of staring both past the screen and right through it. Just extraordinary.

Sliding into second is:

Calvary (John Michael McDonagh)
Brooding, dark, funny, uplifting, hopeful and nihilistic, all held together by Brendan Gleeson and those eyes.

The rest of my Top Ten, in no particular order:

12 Years a Slave (Steve McQueen)

Edge of Tomorrow (Doug Liman)

The Grand Budapest Hotel (Wes Anderson)

I've always been something of a Wes Anderson sceptic, but with The Grand Budapest Hotel he finally got me with his lovely, labyrinthine, laudatory lament to stories and the people who tell them. It was surprisingly affecting once the artifice crumbled.

Guardians of the Galaxy (James Gunn)

Inside Llewyn Davis (Joel and Ethan Coen)

I never know what kind of Coen Brothers movie I’m going to get. There are the ones that I love unreservedly (Blood Simple; The Big Lebowksi; No Country For Old Men; Raising Arizona; O Brother, Where Art Thou?) and then there are the ones that leave me cold (Fargo; Burn After Reading; Miller’s Crossing; Barton Fink; The Man Who Wasn't There). I had a hunch that Inside Llewyn Davis would fall into the latter category as soon as I heard that this would be about folk music and featured a cat in a prominent role. Man, was I wrong! I still catch myself singing Please Mr. Kennedy at inopportune moments...

Only Lovers Left Alive (Jim Jarmusch)

Only Lovers Left Alive (or "The Unbearable Darkness of Being") did nothing to alleviate my ongoing crush on Tilda Swinton as it reveled in the gothic in more ways than one.

The Purge: Anarchy (James DeMonaco)

Note for Purge virgins (Purgins?): You don’t have to have seen the first film to enjoy this superior sequel.

The Wolf of Wall Street (Martin Scorsese)

Scorsese's trilogy chronicling a History of True American Crime is now complete. From Goodfellas and Casino to the amoral white-collar recidivists of Wall Street, Jordan Belfort may well be the biggest monster of them all...

Under those ten, in the category of Close But No Cigar:

The Guest (Adam Wingard) and It Follows (David Robert Mitchell) - That’s a stunning Carpenter-inflected Maika Monroe-starring double-bill right there. Prediction: It Follows may well graduate to my Best of 2015 list next year after another viewing...
Nightcrawler (Dan Gilroy)
Oculus (Mike Flanagan)
Pasolini (Abel Ferrara)
Pride (Matthew Warchus)

Honorary Mention: All Is Lost (J. C. Chandor)

I’m counting this one for this year even though it got a UK release date of Boxing Day 2013, because that week between Christmas and the New Year is a ghost week that comfortably straddles both sides of the temporal firework whizbang we divide our calendars with. There are coincidental glimpses of Life of Pi, Captain Phillips and Gravity here, and All Is Lost is better than all three of them put together. On the strength of this and the terrific Margin Call, Chandor’s forthcoming A Most Violent Year shoots to the top of my most anticipated films of 2015.

Cut. Print. Ask me tomorrow, and you'd get a different list. Maybe. 

(Please don't ask me tomorrow).

My Movie Year 2014

For me, 2014 has been all about the eyes. Brendan Gleeson's sad, soulful eyes in Calvary. The horrors reflected in Chiwetel Ejiofor’s haunting and haunted eyes in 12 Years A Slave. The flat blank eyes of Scarlett Johansson in Under the Skin. My abiding memories of this year’s screen-gazing are going to be the gazes looking back out at me...

And it’s not just the eyes looking out. How about the eyes looking in, carting along baggage, preconceptions and a lifetime’s experience with them? You take from a movie what you bring to it. Case in point: The excessive deluge of think pieces screaming about the perceived agenda of David Fincher’s Gone Girl. From one corner: “It’s misogynist!”. From the other: “It’s feminist!”. And I sat in the middle thinking “’s pulp. Really well-tooled pulp, and Fincher is smart enough to want to provoke his audience and raise such questions.’s still just pulp.”

Gone Girl was monumentally stupid, hugely entertaining, far too long, never a dull moment. All at the same time. It’s a potboiler. Lurid. Over-egged. Melodramatic. Compulsive. It's riddled with holes that only gape wider when you prod at them a little bit. It may well be the ne plus ultra of potboilers, but it's a potboiler all the same.

Brilliant balderdash, but it really doesn't have anything remotely profound or meaningful to say about marriage or the media. Let's not credit Gone Girl with such unwarranted gravitas, when it's little more than a very good time at the movies.

And yet while everyone was picking apart Gone Girl fruitlessly hunting for an agenda where there was none, there was a more insidious, cavalier sexism at play in another huge release that didn't garner anywhere near as much attention - Gareth Edwards’ Godzilla. Let me show you how with a little game called Reverse The Following Roles: Bryan Cranston and Juliette Binoche. Ken Watanabe and Sally Hawkins. Aaron Taylor-Johnson and Elizabeth Olson. I can't think of a single reason why at least one of those character reversals couldn't have been made without adversely affecting the narrative in any significant way. Ken Watanabe would still have had the opportunity to say “Gojira!” with the requisite amount of crowd-pleasing portent and gravitas.

(And, while I’m railing against inconsistent ways of looking at things, chew on this one: Stealing and sharing stolen naked selfies online is rightly perceived as Very Bad and Wrong. And yet stealing and sharing private company data and Sony email correspondence is Perfectly Fine and Fair Game. How’s that for a double-standard, motherfuckers? Sharing your body and sharing your opinions are personal and intimate acts and, most importantly, choices. Choices that have been removed from those affected. And with each licked lip over every salacious reveal, everyone makes their future argument weaker the next time someone comes to violate your rights and privacy….OK, back to crapping on about movies…)

Elsewhere, Christopher Nolan continued to make films that I admire rather than like. Interstellar was no better or worse than his erstwhile collaborator Wally Pfister’s Transcendence, and yet the latter was the one that got the critical kicking. In both cases, it's just not enough to have the ambition to interrogate questions of love, devotion, grief and our relationship with technology if you can't actually come up with anything remotely profound or illuminating to say about any of it.

Lucy, on the other hand, was Transcendence with a sense of humour. Where Pfister's film trades in po-faced faux-profundity, Luc Besson has a twinkle in his eye as he gleefully bullshits us for the sheer fun of it.

2014 was also the year that The Great John Carpenter Homage became a fully-fledged sub-genre. The Guest was essentially John Carpenter's Uncle Buck. It Follows was Halloween in Detroit (which is unfairly reductive, sure, but if you want a more detailed assessment, you’re going to have to click through to my recap of this year’s London Film Festival.) And in The Purge: Anarchy... It's Punishin' Time! If John Carpenter directed Frank Grillo as Frank Castle for Marvel, you’d get this double-barreled blast of pulp nirvana.

On the subject of Marvel, James Gunn’s Guardians of the Galaxy disproved the burbling misguided wisdom of the internet masses who liked to claim that Big Bad Corporate Marvel were far too conservative to unleash Edgar Wright on Ant-Man. Gunn vaporised that argument with the endearing friendship between a gun-toting raccoon and a monosyllabic dancing tree. I also now have an excuse to once again share this beautiful logo designed by my inestimable friend Emma Price based on a dumb gag I hurled on to Twitter.

The Raid 2 sadly hewed to the maxim that more is less. The first film was all tight, stripped-down bonecracking beauty. This, however, was somewhat baggy and occasionally tipped over into queasy, disposable sadism. It lagged and suffered whenever Iko Uwais was off-screen (you could jettison an hour of subplots easy), but when he's He's the Fred Astaire of face-kicking.

And so ends just a few of my ruminations on my Year In Dimly-Lit Auditoria. For one of those list things that everyone seems to be so fond of, you’ll have to wait just a little bit longer...