Understanding Indiana Jones & the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull - No Spoilers

There are certain types of film - I believe - that can only be properly reviewed by the people who have previously enjoyed them. A successful franchise can only be appreciated by those that have championed their greatness.


Imagine listening to Christopher Tookey (from the Daily Mail) as your be-all and end-all critique on the latest Indy flick knowing that he's rated the original three poorly (on the grounds of childish excess and fast-paced but limited story). It's just not a fair review. The bases are already loaded... so don't do it.

You want to listen to me instead... though, I rated the Phantom Menace 5 stars (just like Empire Magazine did) when it first came out. I'm sorry people, please forgive me. I won't make the same mistake twice!

That is exactly why I'm having so much trouble reconciling myself with the latest Indy movie: I saw Temple of Doom first, aged 7 or 8. Mum and Dad had rented it in 84/85 and I chose to watch it on a Sunday morning instead of Gummi Bears. Raiders I watched first at my grandparents, and then Grail I saw with my Mum in the cinema, aged 10, back in 1989.

All three are adult-orientated action adventures, but rated PG to allow kids to enjoy them too, and of course that's where the magic is. Kids buy into a lot of stuff that adults find jarring or difficult to accept. But, the Indy series has prided itself on being action first and foremost, mcguffin to keep the ball rolling and ensuring that the fantastical doesn't arrive until the last reel:


In Raiders we have no manifestations of the Ark's true power until it's on the boat, searing the Nazi symbol from the crate and making the rat go crazy - by the time we reach the opening of the Ark, we expect something horrendous and ghostly to manifest.


In Temple of Doom, voodoo, possession and ripping of hearts before sacrifice come midway, but these are examples of earthly-based "magic" that has never been proven or disproved (heart rending aside, Derren Brown could prove voodoo magic through the power of suggestion, I bet). Besides, you never seen anything physically manifest. No devils or demons arrive on behalf of Kali or Shiva to wreak their vengeance. And though the Sankara stones glow and are too hot at the end for Mola Ram to hold, the suspended-disbelief has been earned.

Let's not go into the dining scene with the eyeball soup and monkey brains - Lucas and Spielberg were trying to play up the comedic assumptions of the west against the east. Knowing that it's tongue in cheek and watching just a few weeks ago (I'm purportedly an adult now) just shows it up to be seriously misjudged, and wryly amusing.


So, Grail, in which the quest remains legitimate until the final reel again - the Grail Knight is a grey surprise in an earth-toned film. For me he never did work properly (I mean, what would he really have done in there for 700 years?) Anyhoo, it's even more jarring by the fact that the three trials Indy faces to get to the Knight are physically realised traps and puzzles rather than ghostly effects. The Grail itself is a great idea

Lucas and Spielberg go to great lengths to bind these movies in realism, and then tweak the mythologies to provide a little freakishness, something different, and for the public to bite into, and to maintain their "high-concept idea"

For Kingdom of the Crystal Skull the goodwill of the audience is stretched right from the start - and I don't mean in the age of Indy, (it is jarring and we feel sorry for him being that old) we very quickly forget he's 60 and the adventure rolls on. You can't help but get caught up in it all, to laugh, to tense and to be moved by John Williams's score - it's all expertly constructed to maintain audience enjoyment and with Lucas and Spielberg the two people we should feel most comfortable with.

However, the "mumbo-jumbo", if you will, is there from the beginning, and though the story follows the template of the previous three with maintaining ground-based, earth-realm concerns, chases and peril, the film-makers sprinkle the "other-world" bits a lot-lot more. At least it feels that way. But, when the mcguffin is on screen almost as long as Indy, that's going to happen. And it's all there as a means of getting you used to the final reel in which, I'm sorry, you're going to be tested in your support of story, film-makers, and, as I said, goodwill.

However, I think I love this film!

I love Indiana Jones, what can I say?

That we're moved ahead 20 years, and it's the 50s with all that that encompasses: Elvis, Greasers, Reds, Atom bombs, nods to what's happened in between for "Colonel Jones" - sorry couldn't resist that (it's a wonderful little moment when we learn he's done a lot of work for the war effort), and also that in his job he's taken on the name "Henry Jones" as a nod to his deceased father.

The movie's opening salvo stutters through the first 5/10 minutes as we try to get up to speed with Indy's situation, push ourselves to accept he looks as old as my dad (and I don't want my dad to be in that kind of danger), and force ourselves to accept we start at Area 51 in the Nevada desert (yes, we are at the Ark's final resting place - ooh) and everything that that encompasses.

But it hits its stride almost immediately afterwards. And what a ride. You cannot be disappointed. Because the film ticks all the right boxes, makes all the right nods to the films past and is Indiana Jones (for crying out loud). You can't despite it's momentary failings (a horrible-horrible-horrible Tarzan swing through the trees for Mutt), the ants take it a bit far and the Vulcan mind-meld is... sorry, wrong film (!)

But, I think the film really speaks well for the time in which it's placed. It's not better than the others, but it "mostly" fits well in the Indy cannon. I can't say anymore than that because you need to form your own decisions about which way you swing when you realise the real intent of the film (I personally feel the film-makers have been a bit over self-indulgent, yet, I think I love the film). I'll have to see it again.

SORRY - SPOILER ALERT:

Okay, I have to get one proper spoiler in - though it happens within the first 15 minutes -

Be careful now, you'll have to highlight the text to read it:

When Indy escapes from the Russians he finds himself in the perfect world of the Atomic bomb testing site in Nevada valley. It is the most surreal, awkward and upsetting scenario, not-least for the fact that it's another jarring point against what Indy Jones films have been about (deserts, jungles and earth tones). Here we are in the staid and pressed formica world of mid-class America, except its a setup to see the results of the 200 kiloton bomb hanging over the city... and Indy's only got 1 minute to escape!

Now, that was nail-biting stuff - real horror (and I'm 29). They can make you squirm with delight even though you might be an adult.

Adapting History

As the adaptations of the adaptations of history go... The Other Boleyn comes across quite enjoyably. Though I'm certain our viewing last night was made far more giggly by the inclusion of the back row who seemed determined to laugh at every inappropriate bit of dialogue or act in the script. Although no one was laughing when Henry, having offed Catherine of Aragon (and worse, annulled the marriage through the exciting decision to take the English church in a very different direction from the... er... real church), charges into Anne's chambers and forces himself upon her from behind.

No one was laughing then. Least of all my historian friend mumbling beside me, "That never happened."

But of course, this isn't history. It's melodrama at the English courts, Tudenders for the 1500s. We can't expect the course of history to run as smoothly as it did in real history (not that it did at all).

I've previously spoken of my disdain for works such as Becoming Jane in which the writers and filmmakers made the rather dim decision to take Jane Austin's fiction as a jumping board for the fictionalisation of her life simply because they felt their was a market for it. My wife and I only managed to get 30 minutes in before stopping the film in disgust - why watch a wholly fake representation (no one really knows Jane Austin's true life story), when her books and their film and tv adaptations are so much better?

Anyhoo, Boleyns. Where this fictionalised history really starts to ramp up the falsities is long before I noticed, but that's behind the point, I grew bored of history at A-Level. But, everyone who's anyone knows that Henry was in a hunting accident that left him lame. Henry never stayed at the Boleyn's house to go hunting there, and it certainly wasn't while pursuing Anne, who refused to give up on pursuing a stag, that he had the accident.

Further in the annals of irregularity, Anne is tipped is the elder sister and thus top on the affections list, giving rise to conflict when Mary is chosen by Henry (after Anne's actions leave him lame), and yet Mary was the elder in reality. I guess the filmic people felt that the public wouldn't believe that the younger sister would ever have delusions of grandeur and be so ambitious.

Note that I said the filmic people. Philippa Gregory's novel, though ambitious in its own liberties with the facts or suppositions, isn't as blase as the film. Anne, for example comes back from the French court at the beginning, she isn't sent there midway through for her crimes. The girl who would be Elizabeth I was never taken away by Mary at the end to go live with her (as heir to the throne she'd stay in the royal creche).

And, to imply that Anne was the one who decided that Henry should annul the marriage to Catherine, AND split from the church, AND start up the Church of England, AND AND AND... is completely crazy!

He was led by his manhood and his need to secure a male heir, and Anne did become a serious power behind the throne, but she wouldn't have had such power before.

Internationally renowned novel critic Dr. James Higgins (who has a PhD in Historic Literature from the University of Australia) said of Gregory when he reviewed The Other Boleyn Girl:

"Philippa Gregory has created a mesmerising work of fiction, seamlessly intertwined with historical fact. While her list of sources may give some reason to believe her novel contains more fact than fiction, it is quite clear to me that Gregory has gained a knowledge of the basic storyline, as well the culture and customs of the Tudor Court, and embellished and dramatised it even more (if that is possible). She hints that she does indeed believe that Anne Boleyn was innocent, but changed her story in order to create a more shocking and scandalous situation. At the end of The Other Boleyn Girl one cannot help but feel sorry for Anne Boleyn, and one gets the feeling that Gregory feels the same way, as she attests to in a later book (The Boleyn Inheritance)."

- Wikipedia

So, even Philippa made up some stuff, but that, my historian friend could stomach. I think she wanted (even after the film) to like it more than she had, but she admitted that she loves the book and if anyone wanted to borrow it they'd have to prise it out of her cold dead hands. So, even historians love fictionalised accounts.

Given the rise in the misery memoirs... several of which are now being outed as mostly fake, should we be surprised that history is constantly given a shake up? Does it make it any better when we are already told it is ficiton? Certainly in the bookshop you can't mistake Philippa Gregory as a fiction novelist... but this is harder for the mass audience to assume in a film (even the Elizabeth films weren't entirely accurate). We are told the the truth is in the detail. Does it matter that this is constantly being smudged?

I Am Legend - Adapting A Story

I Am Legend is in its fourth incarnation, following the book, by Richard Matheson, the Vincent Price film The Last Man, and Charlton Heston's The Omega Man. A story that is half character-play on the loneliness and psychological effects of being without human contact for three years and half horror-actioner, which, for the most part, works on both counts.

I'm not going to discuss the film as a review, because you can get those all over the place on the net. You don't need me for that. What interests me is the adaptation aspect of going from a book to a film. I gave a brief rundown of the book back in June, and you can read that here - again it's not a review as such, and I was also strict with myself not to give the ending away - just in case the new film ended on the same note.

Sadly it does not, and I will have to break the Spoiler code in order to discuss it - but I will advise you when I'm about to do that. So, what am I trying to do here? I'm trying to highlight areas of failure between adaptations.

Let me first say that I am usually of an open mind with book to film adaptations - Lord of the Rings I accepted with no concern about the little changes, the minutiae omitions and the jiggling of the timeline between The Two Towers and Return of the King. Harry Potter too would have been far too long with everything left in. LA Confidential excelled in taking a different course, Equilibrium's failings were elsewhere (and following the book would have made for a weak film anyway), The Golden Compass had lost nothing in its screen translation... so, why is it that, despite having already intended to write about the adaptation of I Am Legend, I'm disappointed by the options the filmmakers chose?

General Troublespots

I can accept much of what the film is because it is essentially about the isolation, and while this makes for slow moments that probably won't lend themselves well to repeat viewing it does draw you in to Robert Neville's inner world. However, in typical Hollywood fashion, explanations are glossed over with shortcuts or ignored. For example, in the book Nevilleis immune because, he suspects, he was bitten by a bat when holidaying in Panama. The film gives no explanation of why Neville (of all people) is immune, and just so happens to be a Colonel and the Scientist attempting to stop the virus.

Secondly, Neville falls into a trap that throws the last half of the film into its tense-filled action sequences (which I'm all for). The nature of the trap however is questionable. The trap is designed exactly the way Neville has been setting his traps (he captures the dead/vampires/mutants / infected so as to test his serum on them) and is far too elaborate for the infected to concoct, yet Neville (having lost his marbles for little apparent reason, and no, I didn't buy it) gets himself caught in the trap and wakes as the sun goes down with the Alpha Male infected and infected dogs bearing down on him - it seemed to present the infected as having prepared everything, and yet this couldn't be true (since the only other things they do is attack, climb, destroy, headbut and eat). The flipside is that we hadn't had enough evidence of Neville's mini-psychosis. He just wouldn't have put himself in that position and we needed more examples of him losing his marbles (more than just wanting to chat to the lady in the shop).

There is a big argument in favour of the infected having set the trap - the Alpha Male appears to have a beef with Neville (1. When Neville takes the female infected, the Alpha Male risks the UV light. 2. The Alpha Male is at the trap, clearly intent upon getting Neville - he at least has higher brain functions. 3. In the denouement he pushes past all the others and is the one to headbut the partition, trying to get at Neville). In the book Neville's old neighbour seems to portray the more self-aware infected and this is potentially a throwback to that, though in the case of the film it is poorly pulled off, since those discussing this point cannot agree on a solution. There is insufficient evidence for either camp to be right, and this is the fault of the filmmakers.

Psychological Evacuations

A big part of the book is the psychology of the vampires, that the virus as a biological agent that alters the victims physically and psychologically. There is no reason for them to fear mirrors or crosses and yet they do. They are allergic to a compound in garlic and their skin is too fragile to withstand UV light. All fair enough. Neville is very interested in trying to understand why they fear mirrors and crosses, since neither can harm them in anyway - a throwback to an indoctrinated belief by the infected that they really are vampires.

This is a wasted opportunity in the film where it prefers to deal instead with the God debate (which is actually shoe-horned in at the last minute). The book is about psychology to its very core: Neville dealing day-to-day with his isolation and the loss of civilisation; the two kinds of infected and their psychological fears; and, the book's outcome which is a brilliant twist on the notion of being a legend - more on this later.

Unfortunately the film eschews the investigations of psychology by labeling the infected thusly (instead of vampires). As such it places the badguys in the typical Hollywood positions of the brainless goons whose only purpose is for in-scene tensions and action sequences (the Alpha Male aside).

The Ending (Spoilers)

So, here we are. I can cope with much of what went on with the film. I don't mind that Neville was a colonel and not a normal guy, that his family died in a helicopter crash and not infected, that its present day, not the 50s, that his day to day business and what he endures at night is completely different, he has a dog from the start, even that he isn't infiltrated by another woman (of questionable origins). It's fine - films and novels work differently and have to rely on their own toolkits to keep audience interest.

What didn't work was...

1. God versus Science

I suppose I have to give the film credit for trying to argue this case. The book is clearly pro-science as the cause and solution. Neville in the film argues for science but when Anna arrives they argue over there being a higher purpose. Given that this is shoe-horned in only once Anna is introduced in the last third we are given a very different story idea from that with which we started.

2. Symbolism

Once we reach the end we have an overt bout of symbolism shoved down our throats. Sam, the dog, watches a butterfly, Marley, Neville's child, makes a butterfly with her hands and Anna has a butterfly tattoo, and upon seeing the tattoo (having previously disregarded Anna's assertion that God has a purpose) remembers what Marley had said and realises God is telling him to act - sheesh! Symbolism in films is meant to be subtle so that those of us who want greater depth to our stories can look for them and discuss what they mean. They're not meant to be used in a way that says: "Look audience, the clues were here all along, this is a story about God's path... yippee!"

It's as cheap as the ending of The Reckoning (don't even get me started). And of course, the first thing we hear when Anna reaches her final destination, is a church bell - oh, wondrous saviour - this seems to be an attempt to appease the Catholic League as a complete reversal to The Golden Compass, by actually saying we must all believe in God.

What we have, as many people have noticed, is 28 Days Later by way of M. Night Shyamalan's Signs. An interesting but wholly flawed concept.

3. Altered States

This, we realise, is meant to draw us away from the original ending (of the book, and possibly of the movie). As a side note there was some hoo-har about the original ending of the film, in that test audiences didn't like it and/or Will Smith gave away the ending during a press conference in Tokyo.

There has been a definite change, since the following image from the trailer, is not in the final film (hmmm)...4. The Title's Meaning

I didn't give away the ending did I? Well here we go... In the film Neville gives Anna a vial with the cure and sacrifices himself. She can then travel north (as she was originally going to do), taking the cure with her - the cure being Neville's Legend. Though, really this is just his legacy.

In order to understand just how disappointing this is for those of us who read the book and buy into the original intent of the story, you too need to know the original ending.

5. I Am Legend

In the book there are two types of infected - 1) the dead who are pretty much as they are in the film, mostly psychotic monsters, 2) the living who have the same symptoms (aversion to sunlight and garlic but who still have their own mental faculties).

The fact that there are two kinds is key. In the book Neville goes from building to building locating infected and killing them. They are induced into deep sleeps during the day as a way of keeping away from the light and to Neville, not knowing that there are two kinds of infected, both types look the same. Of course, towards the end we discover that he has been killing both kinds.

The living infected are trying to start a new civilisation. They have become mutated or evolved (if you will) and must put up with what they've got. And they would be able to move on (they too kill the dead infected), but for the fact that the monster, Neville, is killing them. They are in fear for their lives because Neville will come for them and wipe them out.

As such, they set about trying to trap him in order to kill him, and this is why he is Legend. And since the book is all about perceived psychological scenarios and beliefs (isolation / doing good / fear of benign objects such as crosses) and the fact that Neville's actions have made him (as the minority) the monster (the Grendel character). He is a Legend among the living infected.

6. Concept of the Adaptations

Of the other two adaptations, neither chose to use the title I Am Legend, despite Vincent Price's The Last Man Alive being far closer to the original concept. This is ever more interesting when considering that the latest film cops out on the ending, chooses a different theme and subverts the meaning of the title with a weak and saccharine view that seems to work for everyone but those who read the book. I guess they fell in love with the title! But how wrong can an audience's expectations get? With the original two movie adaptations the omition of the original title gives them license to go where they please with the story... with the latest, they're giving a nod to the original text (as they do with much of the concept, character, and idea) but they're relying upon the "coolness" of the title without being gutsy enough to remain faithful to the concept.

Again, the quick and easy answer is that it doesn't matter. It's a title and writers / directors have free license to make a film any which way they please. So, why do I feel it needs to be said to all writers to be true to your audience? Because, as I argued in the latest Litopia Podcast (Is Story Dead?) that an audience does not need to know what will happen at the end before they get there (as Alex Kavallierou stated) but that they need to have a sense of the ending - comedy / tragedy. There are conventions that must be followed.

Akiva Goldsman (prolific Hollywood writer - A Beautiful Mind; I, Robot; The Client) - actually his scripts are standard fare (top-Hollywood grosers certainly, but nothing special) - has been quoted as acknowledging that fans of the book will be annoyed by what happens in the film.

"Fundamentally I think that there's an obligation to attempt to be true in spirit to the source. And you have to make a determination about what the source is…"

- Firstshowing.net

Interestingly, another writer made this comment:

Do you know how weird it is to see Will Smith on the cover of a book called "I Am Legend" as the hero of the story only to open up the book and read that the guy is an alcoholic smoker of English-German descent with blond hair, a scraggly beard and blue eyes? It throws you for a second and makes it hard to read at first because you have to push everything you have seen in Warner Bros.' attempts to market this film out of your mind.

It is an interesting concept about misleading an audience, and it harks back to the remake of The Italian Job, which wasn't a remake at all - it used names, locations and the mini chase, but replaced absolutely everything else. It comes down to a marketing ploy - the filmmakers aren't making the original because they think they're going their own - better - way, but they are piggybacking off the success of the originals by way of saying to all the fans: "You loved that, you'll love this, and we'll lie by implication because we won't admit until after you've seen it that it's going to end differently."

And while I must say that the latest film version of I Am Legend is good in its own right, we're all missing out on the potential for a much better version (the book version) because the writers think (and have failed) they can do better.

Sigh! Lesson to be learned: follow the original or use a different name.

The Golden Compass - Northern Lights - Review

So, I went to see The Golden Compass on Sunday night, and I wasn't looking forward to it... why? Because all the critics had bemoaned the thinning of its content. The theological discussions were gone, the anti-christian sentiment had been eradicated. There was little left but a quest movie. Pah!

Why would I want to see something so skinny? Well, let's get this straight - it's not anti-christian, it's anti-controlling-power, and the magisterium is still in it, and there is enough references there for people to know what it all means. As for the theological. So what? It's been cut back! Who cares, it's still there, it's still obvious, and as with all other book to film renditions, the subtext can easily be read by the intelligent simply by picking up the book - that's the wonder of books, they're there to fill in the gaps in the movies.

I was thoroughly impressed, and though I bow to the omnipotence of Lord of the Rings, there is no way that Golden Compass doesn't sit alongside the quest movies of Star Wars and Harry Potter. They're all geared towards family viewing, they're all light on theology, they've got good vs bad... in fact this is a far better film than Harry Potter. There's so much more to it, not least Dakota Blue Richards's acting ability. Aside from some of the silly ways in which the script writer has attempted to insert Lyra's common pronunciations (as in from talking normally to the odd cockney moment) she is perfect.

The daemons work wonderfully on the screen and the polar bears look great. I would have preferred the full ending, but I understand why this has been put back to the second film... if there is ever to be one.

Unfortunately the American public haven't bothered to go see it, and I fear this amazing story is going to fall at the first hurdle. It's a shame, because it is such a brilliant story.

The Painted Veil

I managed to nab this from the library two nights ago, and when I got in from Birmingam last night, sat down with my Reggae-Reggae Sauced, Pasta Salad cum Pork sliced menagerie and switched it on.


For the majority it was quite a cracking story. The leads' accents had nice English tones and though the language was a little too cliched at times (Kitty's reliance on cliche aside: "The idea that any women should marry any Tom, Dick or Harry regardless of her own feelings is simply prehistoric." - it serves to show her for the self indulgant lass she is), somewhat on the nose at others "It was silly of us to look for qualities in each other we might've never had"; could all have been shaken up and taken a little more seriously. How much work would it have required to take those lines and rework them to say the same thing a different way... without jarring?

And of course, the moment when Charlie Townsend says:

She was sold into slavery. Condemned to a life of drudgery and despair in a strange land far from home. See the chains? They represent the heavy bondage of her poor, trapped soul from which there is no escape, and so she weeps. She weeps for the lively, vivacious girl she once was, the lonely woman she has become... and most of all... she weeps for the love she'll never feel, for the love she'll never give.

... is far too on the nose to be anything but distracting - even more so when he admits he just made it up. But, then, that gives us the foreshadowing that he'll let Kitty down, and for when Waddington admits Charlie has done it many a time.

All that aside, it works. And the moment at which they finally arrive in the village where the main action takes place and they meet Waddington is brilliant (I've tried and failed to find the script so that I can share it with you). You really get a sense then that Walter is making Kitty pay for what she's done.

When I track down the script I will share these bits, because they are great "show" moments, through dialogue.

Anyhoo, my wife didn't want to watch it, but when she came in 45 minutes from the start, told me how she thought it would end (she was right), and then sobbed, I think she quite liked it too. Although I suppose eliciting emotion from the audience is mutually exclusive from getting them to enjoy it.

More Atonement

Her memories of the interrogation and signed statements and testimony, or of her awe outside the courtroom from which her youth excluded her, would not trouble her so much in the years to come as her fragmented recollection of that late night and summer dawn. How guilt refined the methods of self-torture, threading the beads of detail into an eternal loop, a rosary to be fingered for a lifetime.

- Ian McEwan's Atonement

A gorgeously constructed paragraph is it not? Especially the development of the threading beads into rosary.

Not getting hung up on the finer points though, McEwan's Atonement is written in a narrative of fluctuating time periods. This quoted segment is in the future, and directly afterwards we, the reader, find ourselves back in the present of the story, dealing with the ongoing issues. This manner of jumping ahead to encapsulate the happenstance with which she's made her choice to remain resolute. A previous chapter begins:

Within the half hour Briony would commit her crime.

McEwan is keeping up the tension of the piece, making sure the reader knows full well that a misdeed is on the horizon of which the protagonist must atone.

This, in a roundabout sort of way, is the very reason why I felt the need to come back to this story - lucky me that a copy finally got ordered for the library and I could steal it momentarily for perusal in this very matter.

Coming out of the cinema, both Laura and I shaking our heads at the dire circumstance inflicted upon the hapless characters, we took differing views on Briony's pov.

I, taking in full view the synopsis presented: that she would make a mistake; coupled with the consistent manner in which Briony is depicted (wrapped up in her creative world), and of course the fact we are repeatedly placed in her misguided point of view; felt that Briony was mistaken and as a child, joined the dots without a map (so to speak). Therefore, though she came to realise her mistake, at the time she made her judgement it was with all good intentions.

Laura on the other hand felt simply - and this she backed up with the fact that Briony did have a crush on Robbie (true) - that Briony was getting revenge for being slighted. This too was backed up by the view of another woman Laura works with, who just "wanted to slap Briony silly".

Both believed there was malicious intent there, and I, certain there wasn't, have proved as such by reading the book - phew! I like being right.

But how has this misinterpretation come about? Is it a girl/boy thing? Is in the reading of the synopsis prepared me to make that leap? Has the film making lost some of the translation of the book - in the book we spend such a long time in Briony's head that it is clear what is going on with her. In film the audience is guided yet never explicitly told. Who knows? I can't take a bigger sample of people in for questioning since no one seems to have gone out to see it - they're either too old to bother with the cinema or they're all out watching Shoot Em Up (awful) and Disturbia (quite good actually) - on a side note, a friend suggested that Disturbia sounded awful and she wouldn't go see it, but would consider it were it called Entertaina (a stout note there then all you writers)

On another note, McEwan's slickly concieved narrative slips between pov's in a not so obvious manner. First off, each chapter is set in one specific character's pov, and yet within that, we get the occasional glimmer of what another person is feeling. Very interesting. If I had time, I'd read more to see whether this has a specific reason (I don't think I could pull it off so expertly - in the past my writing has done just this and annoyed my readers... and the agents).

Atonement

Ian McEwan's Atonement, released in 2002 (just goes to show how long it takes for a book to be turned into a film when it's optioned) was recently released in the cinemas (and is soon to be removed - so get down there quick).

As imdb's plot summary states:

A British romance that spans several decades. Fledgling writer Briony Tallis, as a 13-year-old, irrevocably changes the course of several lives when she accuses her older sister's lover of a crime he did not commit.

Funny that that is a succinct description that avoids entirely the crux of the story. Imdb has a second summary that better catches the hook:

In the summer of 1935, 13-year-old Briony Tallis observes a flirtation between a servant's son, Robbie, and her older sister, Cecilia, that she childishly misconstrues. Briony's misunderstanding leads to a terrible crime whose consequences follow them through World War II.

The important thing is in the way Briony misconstrues the events she part witnesses on one Summer's day in 1935.

Which, without giving away any of the significant plot points, brings me to the interesting manner in which these moments of misconstrue-ination occur. We open with Briony, she is a 13 year old writer with a big old imagination and a crush on Robbie. He in turn loves Cecilia and on three separate occasions Briony mistakenly walks in at the wrong moment of the development scenes in Robbie and Cecilia's relationship. And each time she adds a bit more of her own ideas about what is really going on.

I'm not sure how this comes across in the book (will have to go hunting - watch this space), but in the film each moment is developed first from Briony's point of view, running with her through a scene until she stumbles upon the end of a situation between Robbie and Cecilia, or regarding the two. And sure enough they seem quite odd/erotic/troubling.

We, the viewer, are then drawn back in time to witness the story from Robbie and Cecilia's point of view, showing us the real and, at first, innocent incidents.

At the end of every scene we are again put back into Briony's position - this is important! Though we begin to get momentary repeats of information, and having witnessed the end to these scenes already with Briony, when they are shown in full from Robbie and Cecilia's point of view, they lose their suspense (we know the outcome and that Briony will witness it).

However, the film makers and, I'm sure, McEwan have taken the decision to make Briony the protagonist (if not the main character - I'm still not sure if she's both, or if Robbie is in fact the protagonist... hmmm), and as such we need to be put back into Briony's frame of reference.

Why? Because we need to understand why she suspects Robbie of... the final deed... despite what she really sees, and what we, the viewer, really know. And why she chooses to lie to the police. Without the constant start and return to Briony's point of view the viewer would lose any and all empathy/sympathy with Briony's character and she might come off as vengeful and childish than she does.

For me the sour note in all this is that it removes possible moments of future surprise - like Columbo we know who the real culprit is from the off (and don't be fooled into thinking that in a Dickensian way all badguys will pay for their crimes, this isn't that kind of story). But I can understand it is mere fallout from the purpose of the plot - the atonement itself.

It makes for a great film, though the drawn out scenes when the main characters are torn apart do begin to drag, but then you come to appreciate this at the end, with the final reveal regarding what you've been watching - interesting also, and partly reminded me of The French Lieutenant's Woman (but not implicitly).

Schwing

There is something reassuring about the return of Indy Jones, not least in the decision for Karen Allen to reprise her role as Marian Ravenwood - who we all fell in love with as little boys.

Far less whiney than Kate Capshaw's Willie Scott, and far more human than Alison Doody's Dr. Schneider, Marian was sufficiently head-strong enough to give Indy a run for his money whilst easily falling upon her feminine charm and the occasional ditzy "Help Indy, get me out of this burning building... basket... snake pit... plane."

With John Hurt on to play her father and Indy's mentor: Abner; Shia LaBeouf as Marian's son Mutt (hmm, Dog names again), Ray Winstone as Indy's assitant and Cate Blanchett as the villain, this film is set to be expensive if not entertaining - and we'll have to wait and see on that front.

At least I have all faith in Koepp... fingers crossed

Potter and the Phoenix

Laura and I went to the earliest screening we could possibly get on Thursday, and aside from the fact that fewer and fewer people seem to keep their traps shut in the cinema (the woman sat next to us was narrating for her dad until Laura *politely* asked her to shut her gob) we both loved it.

Rowling and Potter get a lot of bad press from literary snobs (both those who really are, and those who wish they are), and re-reading the Order of the Phoenix t'other day I can see why many balk at the thought of having to read her prose. Case in point:

The man was pressing so tightly on Harry's windpipe that he could not breathe. Through watering eyes he saw Sirius duelling with a Death Eater some ten feet away; Kingsley was fighting two at once; Tonks, still halfway up the tiered seats, was firing spells down at Bellatrix - nobody seemed to realise that Harry was dying. He turned his wand backwards towards the man's side, but had no breath to utter an incantation, and the man's free hand was groping towards the hand in which Harry was grasping the prophecy - 'Aaargh!'

- no that wasn't me going Aaargh... I'd describe it as Richard screamed his indignation at the writing, at the way it had become a list of actions. But then, that's the point of Rowling's work. It's aimed at children, at teenagers, not adults. It's not trying to be something it isn't and it's not trying to win a beautiful prose award.

In my view Rowling has developed a story with a wondrous plot, brilliant characters and a knack for drawing light relief from moments of darkness - the film version of the Order of the Phoenix really took my by surprise in exactly how dark it was compared to the previous 4 (Laura had to remind me that the book was similarly dark - as is book 6 - The Half-Blood Prince, but I just hadn't expected what we got... more on this in a bit).

Rowling is in desperate need of an editor - I hope to God her next one doesn't come in much over 500 pages - the last chapter between Dumbledore and Harry, in which Dumbledore recaps Harry's 4 previous adventures in a drawn out scene almost as boring (on second reading) as Tolkein's Elrond's Council, is, at best, unnecessary. The film boils it down to Harry's angst and heartache instead, which is lost by Rowling in her attempt to over egg that very feeling. She lays guilt upon anguish upon blame upon hatred upon anxiety upon regret upon... The cleverness of the script writers for the movie in what they've chosen to take from the text is really eye-opening, and something all writers should pay attention to.

Yes, they've had to cut back a tremendous amount from the original text, yes all these wonderful characters are reduced to bit parts - I'd personally have loved to have seen more of Tonks, Moody and Lupin. Sirius's want to fulfill a role is dulled also - but you still get a flavour of who they are, what they can do and what they wish for.


Ginny Weasley - schwing - is held back in many respects as a character in the film (so that others may carry out the greater story arcs) but we, the audience, still see her brief glances at Harry, the way she looks back as Harry goes to comfort Cho. Why is this important? Because Ginny has fancied Harry throughout the previous stories and will eventually be his girlfriend. The script writers (working with Rowling) have laid the foundations of this relationship with subtle hints, rather than Rowling's original info-dump... but that highlights the difference between the formats. In a novel, with over 100,000 words thrown at the reader, themes, points and subtleties need better expression. In moving pictures, one glance is all we need, and then we move on.

And it is because of Rowling's immense text that we can get so much out of watching the films. There is so much there to draw on and make reference to. Rowling's internalised research pays dividends. Though, I'm still certain that she could restrain herself a bit more and give our eyes a rest.

Anyhoo, what was I saying? Ah yes, the film is great. If you love Potter you'll love the film. If you don't you probably won't... but who cares about you! <- rhetoric, don't answer that one. But it really does put to shame the style that Rowling employs. Her text cannot live up to the imagery we are showered with from the screen, but then, it's the story we're after isn't it. Despite whatever shortcomings I believe she may possess she is a seamstress of story. We, the readers, care deeply about the characters she has created, and regardless of how she might fall short (a la the passage above - which draws the narrative back to a list of character locations and actions instead of real prose) she has still manipulated the minds of millions of readers into caring, into illiciting emotion.

Regardless then of what I say of her writing, or what the literary snobs of the world say, Rowling is a winner. As Agent Cox repeatedly iterates: "If you can illicit emotion from your reader; if your writing can draw upon emotion at every step, then you can't fail." And that is what Rowling does best.

And I can't wait to conclude the series next weekend.

Deconstructing the Illusionist - Spoiler Warning

I've been waiting for Edward Norton's The Illusionist to come into the library for nabbing for some time - I missed at the cinema and thanks to The Prestige I had a real hunger for Victorian magicians... a dark world with an is it/isn't it real stance.

So woe betide me for nabbing it last night. Laura hadn't wanted to watch it. The Prestige so well sold by its trailer and when we watched it we absolutely loved it. It helps that has briskly walked up behind M. Night Shyamalan and stolen his crown (leaving poor Night drowning in that Water). What The Prestige had up its sleeves were a protagonist and antagonist who a) were burning with emotion and desires, b) swapped roles faster than their sleight of hand, and c) metered their magic in explainable reality.

In fact that The Prestige was able to explain away every trick so simply and yet still prove the need for art helped seal its brilliance.

The Illusionist by contrast seals itself behind a wall of disbelief. At the beginning when Inspector Ull is giving the Crown Prince the emotionless background the audience needs to be told in order to try and get us to care (yawn) I thought we were going to venture into Big Fish territory. Thankfully not.

The few tricks played out were interesting, but for the most part, served little purpose. The Prestige again was based on results: disappear a bird in a cage, free the girl from the water cabinet, catch the shot from the gun, teleport from side of the stage to another. The Illusionist's tricks had little or no purpose beyond the Orange Tree... and where'd those stupid Butterflies come from: getting Sophie onto the stage with the mirror trick... so that he can release the soul from the reflection... why? Certainly, Eisenheim picks up on the Victorian's want for messages from the other side of death in his clairvoyance sessions (which interestingly were in the novel version of The Prestige, but dropped for the film), but they're just a showcase so that he can build to the finale rather than a development.

Which leads me to the characters - they're all repressed, non-approachable stiffs. There is nothing here to hold onto. Eisenheim is too distant a character, so much so that when he comes across his childhood sweetheart again we almost don't believe that she could get into bed with him. His nemesis, the Crown Prince, should arrest him solely for his suspect Vienna voice rather than waste time working out his tricks.

There is no one to root for, and we all can guess at what point the main illusion (the film one, not the stage ones) begin, despite them showing us Eisenheim seemingly in mourning - *SOB*. Which leads us inexplicably to the end reveal, which is more like flashback realisation - and poorly done at that. Inspector Ull does his best Columbo as he suddenly pieces together how the two lovers have carried out their deception. Again in a tell way that gives all the answers to those of the audience who were napping throughout. The Prestige however handles its reveals with a deft hand, showing us moments that are as emotive as anything we've seen previously. We don't just get the snapshots that build up the evidence, but we get to see characters, still in anguish, working through what becomes our evidence.

So, whilst I have given you the answers to The Illusionist, consider this: I've saved you wasting your time with a charlatan. I've kept the secrets of The Prestige, and you should thank me - for once I've given away the prestige, you'll no longer crowd around with questions. ;)

Indy Jones and the Ravages of Time

Spielberg's just released the first image for Indy Jones 4 (a la Harrison Ford [right]). I've stuck it alongside a photy from The Last Crusade, just to show how much 18 years have changed that grisled face. It's a shame but he's beginning to look old - how will we accept our hero when he finally arrives? I'm beginning to worry that Spielberg's decision to include so many known actors in the next one is just a way of papering over the cracks - lets hope Cate Blanchet and Harrison don't have a thang!

What does this suggest to us all? Get a move on with the big thing you're going to do in your life - that way when the press take your photo you'll be remembered as you are now.

Fantastic 4 - The Rise of Internet Grannies

So, I saw it, I hoped to enjoy it, and I was disappointed... again. Though not as I was in Spidey 3... and yet I think I enjoyed Spidey 3 more (yes, I know, despite my lambasting of it).

So what is the problem with Rise of the Silver Surfer? Well, it's not the reference to the pensioners who learn to surf the internet - I know how the Norrin Radd is, I've got a few comics from when I was 12 (yes, ha-ha... last year).

Okay, before you proceed... SPOILER ALERTS. You've been warned.

Now then, why it didn't work:

1. One of the subplots regards Sue Storm wanting a quiet life. She badgers Reed to quit the high-life so that they can settle down and have kids away from the limelight. Reed agrees because he loves her and it raises momentary tension with Johnny and Ben (as much as the writers could be bothered with given all the other goings on). So, how do they resolve this issue, having brought it up once as character conflict before a big fight midway through the film? Well, they don't speak of it again until the very end when Sue admits the world needs them, they can't give up the team... whoo-bloody-hoo. Aside from her near-death experience there is nothing to give us any inclination of internal dramatics to resolve this issue. Like much of the plot tensions in Silver Surfer, the writer's have opted for a switch rather than a character arc: I do want to split the team up and have kids >> Actually I don't!


2. The Surfer's only purpose is to prepare a world for annihilation by Galactus. That's all well and good. He's been doing it for a millenia and he's very good at it. Those of you that know Surfer lore know that he agreed to become Galactus's (he may be a God, but he doesn't get the Ancient Greek God-nod of Galactus' [no extra 's']) herald to save his home planet, Zenn-La, and the woman he loves - fair do's. His planet is saved, he's imbued with cosmic powers. His purpose is to serve. So why is it that a) we and Sue Storm are told that she reminds the Surfer of the woman he loves back on his homeworld when he saves her? and b) it is the fact he fancies Sue that makes him finally resolve at the end with no other explanation or show of character arc to stop Galactus from destroying Earth? I mean, c'mon! We could have done with the Surfer saying how it is, the world will die so that He may live, and then show him understanding how giving and nurturing us humans can be - puke into bucket. Instead the writers opted for their simple switch: he serves Galactus... now he doesn't.


3. Galactus is the almighty world devourer, who appears as a giant cosmic cloud of burning magma and inferno, with fingery tendrils like hurricanes. Fair-do's. I'd have liked to have seen him personally inside all that, just like in the comics. Might have been a bit cheesy, since his whirling cloud of doom was quite impressive, albeit not being scary in anyway. Couldn't they have shown his face inside it all when the Surfer returns to him?

4. You do not... DO NOT... simply kill off the world devourer. For crying out loud. For the Surfer to have done that, and then survive himself! It just goes to prove the point that the big baddie, the big time-lock situation they set up, was like a deflating balloon with a hole. Anti-climax.


5. Just don't get me started on anything else in this turgid bit of poop. Bring on Transformers... aside from the changing face of badguys in it - The Surfer's the badguy, no Doom's the badguy, no Galactus's the badguy. Who do I root against? Give me something not cliched.

The Celestine Prophecy

Back before I moved jobs in 2001/02, I joined a society of Spiritualist Churches and Psychic Circles. We practiced everything from pscyhometry to mediumship, tarot cards and clairvoyance. It was in that phase of looking for something more that I came across the Celestine Prophecy, an adventure into spirituality. They tip it as Indy Jones meets Moses. Yeah, right!

Was it a good book? I can't remember beyond it being functional in getting the reader from A to B to develop the next spiritual idea, but an awful lot of people deride it as much as the Da Vinci Code, and yet since its release in 1993 it has sold and sold and sold... personally I blame all the spiritualists. We... they think it helps open up the chakras and shows the way toward true enlightenment. Sure, I believed it, just as I did when I bought other books on mediumship, meditation, communing with spirits, etc, et al.

But honestly, if what they are trying to make us believe is true and possible, then why in 15 years hasn't it made a difference? Believers never question that. It's crazy *SIGH* but then, I didn't question it back then. It was too much fun to believe it.

So, imagine my surprise to see that they released a movie of it last year - straight to DVD of course, but it'll be around a bit longer yet to stoke the fires of mythology (It could happen!)

Spiritual evolution... everyone's talking about it one way or another... but seriously, my arse!

I Was Legend

I was as surprised by Richard Matheson's I Am Legend as I was over John Wyndham's Day of the Triffids and Ray Bradbury's Farenheit 451 - these three great moments in SF lore aren't huge opus's, they aren't epic, they don't flourish with golden language. They are well written, tight prosed, introspective stories of potential horror (potential of course if you can suspend disbelief).

Triffids was a discard I picked up from the library, Farenheit, I read because I'd found the film Equilibrium had interesting ideas... and Legend, I read because Will Smith is starring in it at the end of the year.

Let's get the weaknesses out the way: Matheson relies heavily upon simple body movements to show feeling, sickness, worry, anger. And much of that ends up regarding a thinned mouth or the movement of a throat (I wasn't sure if they were feeling sick or just swallowing though). Those tight thin lines that the mouths became reminded me of what my screenwriting tutor had said about making sure I don't put too many physical directions for my characters, lest they all turn into nodding-head dogs! Finally, the word palsied crops up far too often, and I still haven't checked what it really means...

Dictionary.com says:

any of a variety of atonal muscular conditions characterized by tremors of the body parts, as the hands, arms, or legs, or of the entire body.

Yeah, I thought as much! No, actually I didn't care. One of the other members of my NAW class mentioned that there was a time during the 1990s when the word preternatural had to be used, and it drove him crazy. About as crazy as the drive for, when he was in business, the use of the word paradigm. He was horrified to hear it had come back again.

Anyhoo, Dictionary.com says preternatural means:

1. out of the ordinary course of nature; exceptional or abnormal: preternatural powers.
2. outside of nature; supernatural.

These three stories are vastly different and have led in their own way to so many other ideas and story concepts (just as George Lucas has touched everything CGI with the firey brand that begot Star Wars). But in the case of Legend in particular I see how this has related to the likes of Blade, Resident Evil, even the Channel 4 TV series Ultraviolet. The boiling down into science, baccili and germs, which comes across as very well thought out... so much so that I wonder why fewer other Vampire writers took up this mantle.

The obvious answer is that Legend doesn't hold any romantic notion of the Vampiric state. There's no Brad Pitt's Louis evading Tom Cruise's Lestat or some Godly references to the Queen of the Damned. Surely that offers too much hope.

Anyhoo. Short of giving away the ending, the about turn of the novel, the realisation and denoument give the book the edge that often the midway through ramblings of Robert Neville's loner loses. It's not an out and out fight to the blood and guts end, it's the inner fight of a man dealing with the fact he's the last man on Earth... and he's not alone.

LOST - Season 3 Spoilers

Well, a bit late compared to everyone else but I've just finished watching the 2 hour season ending, and what an ending it was - phew!

So, Laura and I have become split over this. Lost lost it there throughout the beginning of Season 3, with the writers choosing to draw out the plot elements with more and more inane moments and dissections into more and more characters' histories. What did we really learn from them? Not a lot when you consider the "relentless narrative" (Osci would appreciate me bringing that in) of Season's 1 and 2. Because of that it lost viewers and good faith. Laura's fallen into that camp... she's now one of the Others, and therefore... I can't trust her any more.

She made the season finale difficult to enjoy, because she kept going 'Uh, I don't really care!' Either I'm easily pleased or I just love investing myself in story - which, incidentally is quite the opposite to the discussion we had with a head guy from Waterstones and Ken Follett t'other day in a back room of Birmingham's New Street store of Waterstones: 80% of book buyers are women apparantly. Why is that?

Well, discussing with my wife (we're talking again, just for this bit), she reads books for the following reasons:

1. To escape her life
2. To read a "happy" book and know that there will be a happy ending, and all will end as it should (something that takes me back to Adele Parks. She said she sells very well in Slovakia and the Balkan States simply because they've suffered enough and want happy (or as I'd term "flaky") books to read. They've had enough death, and can't stomach any more) - there must be some good in the world.
3. To find someone who shares her concerns or worries, ie: a protagonist who has to deal with parents splitting up, etc. She wants to know how to feel in a given situation, or to just identify with someone and know that she's not crazy... to share in those emotions.

Number 3 incidentally, incidentally takes me back to Ken Follet again (it's okay, I'll be doing a write up on his masterclass soon). Ken Follet's masterclass regarded the creation and development of the suspense novel, now known as the thriller. Cutting to the chase he pointed out that his parents' generation were the first where all the males in Britain would have no choice about whether they'd be conscripted into active military service. This, obviously created great anxiety - it wasn't just a career. Ken said that the suspense novel, especially war related ones rose in sales along with war - because the boys and men wanted to know what they could end up going to. They had concerns about who they'd be on the battlefield. Would they stand and fight or would they cower in fear for their lives? Books provide a purpose to the zeitgeist, which, I guess backs up the ability for a topic to rise to the fore at any given time. The Da Vinci Code did just that. Suddenly everyone was "worried" about what the church had really down to Christ's heritage... well, at least in a "pseudo-we-care" sort of way.

Anyhoo, I've digressed far beyond the pail... Back to Lost.

One of Laura's biggest gripes was the cutscenes of Jack, bearded, returns from a flight home and tries to commit suicide. He's drinking and on drugs, a real nadir of his life, and we quite rightly assumed that this was part of his past, something from which he has run. This grated for Laura because we've had far too much backstory on Jack for them now to twist who he is into some failed doctor. Now, we're led towards thoughts that before heading out to Australia to bring home his father's body, he's going to lose his medical license. How would that look on his character arc? The failed hero?

I bought it for the simple fact that Jack's been through hell and I think he deserves that serious breakdown. Laura doesn't. He's had his chance and he's picked himself up every time. So, what do the screenwriters do?

The cutscenes aren't the past. They're the future. Jack calls Kate - and they never knew each other before the plane crash - he wants to get back on the island. They made a terrible mistake by choosing to escape. His life is meaningless!

Holy crikey! Everything occurring on the island is leading to their rescue and it's not the right choice?

This leaves even me in a quandary over whether I want to continue... knowing the future means that we can see the end, and it's all up the swanny. Regardless of the journey to be made, how can we relate to a protagonist (Jack) who is ultimately going to make the wrong choice? It's tragedy, but does that work if you can see the ending coming?

Potentially not. We knew that in Heroes there was going to be a huge explosion. We knew, because of the repeated statement to that effect that the season showdown would end there. It then becomes a chore to get there. Get a move on buddy! Perhaps that's why Tim Kring (Heroes creator) has opted now for a Chapter schema. Season 2 of Heroes will include Chapters 2 and 3 of the story. Therefore a big climax midseason.

Laura says that in Greek Tragedy, even in Shakespeare, the audience know the outcome. They know Ajax will die, that Oedipus will kill his father, Hamlet will have to resolve to kill his Uncle and die himself, etc, etc. But, the point of Greek and Shakespearian Tragedy IS in the journey, the wonderful prose, the characterisations. The outcome is just there to wrap up what everybody already knows.

So, how does this relate to Lost?

Jack is the elected leader. A doctor in the real world, he's been stripped of his wife, his father, his life is pretty crap, and yet he faces the island, as they all do, and takes the mantle of protector, leader - and most of the other characters hand that to him - they need him to lead.

Echeat has this to say:

For a tragedy to occur there are five conditions. The protagonist, Othello in this case, must experience a death or a total loss of ranking in society. The audience must also be captured by the actors and feel some sort of connection to them. This is known as catharsis. In Shakespearean tragedies the protagonist always has a character defect or a tragic flaw. This tragic flaw along with pride will cause the protagonist to make an error in judgement leading him to his downfall and eventual death. These two elements are called hubris and hamartia. The unities of time, space, and action must also be followed. This means that the play must take place in a very short period of time, occur in one general area, and follow one main character throughout the play. Shakespeare orates for us a tragic occurrence in the life of a man who once had it all, throws it all away in a fit of jealous rage .

The downfall of the central character is the main concept of the tragedy. Without the main character’s downfall there is no reason for the reader to feel pity, therefore, no tragedy. The downfall of the protagonist in Shakespearean tragedies always originates from their tragic flaw.

Jack has hubris certainly. On the island, he is relied upon to save lives day-by-day. This gives him grandstanding, and pride in who he is. For Jack that all comes to a crashing end as soon as they're off the island. He has no one to rely upon him - admitting that he literally just flies, hoping that the plane will crash. Despite having been forced into the position of leader on the island, the detrimental effect on to his psyche is that what he is fighting for - the idea of escape - is based upon a life he already lost. Jack is our Hamlet, but as Aristotle says: "Tragedy must cover a short time period". We're not going to get that in Lost... we've got 3 more years. So, can we invest our time in 3 years of Jack consistently making the wrong decision?

I'm not sure we can.

But, looking to the future we can surmise the following spoilers:

1. Jack, Kate and Sawyer (at least) survive and escape the island.
2. Jack thinks the decision to communicate with off-islanders was wrong (just like Ben and Locke told him)
3. It isn't Penny's ship - yet Naomi had Desmond's book and a piccy of Penny (Penny's father is too big a character to let go. He has to have some hand in the Other Other's)
4. Season 4 will develop these Other Other's, the ones Ben didn't want to find the island, hence how it's possible for the show to continue for 3 more seasons.
5. Who's in the coffin in the future? It's either Juliet or Ben. Laura thinks Ben because no one went to the funeral and it links in with how upset and wrong Jack was over leaving the island... I think it's Juliet. Who else would Jack get so upset about, with Kate being with Sawyer (note: the screenwriters were clever enough not to refer to any off screen characters by name. Essentially they've left themselves an open envelope to make it up depending on their whim - pah! Though this relates to crime writers, who just write, without a clue (often) as to who the murderer really is.
6. Jack references his father in the hospital. So, either the island brings him back to life, or this is actually an alternate reality.
7. Locke is probably going to just wander in and out killing people at whim - a shame, his character arc has lost the audience's empathy for him.

We still don't know why the stewardess from Oceanic appeared in the past, looking no younger (along with Richard's character).

Lots to mull over... I've got until Feb next year! Aw hell!

Audience Awareness

We've seen it time and again - book/film/theatre - one character (and the reader/audience) are away of some fact/information/knowledge/truth and the character is attempting to explain it to another character, only, that other character doesn't believe it, quite often takes offence at (their perception) being made a fool of, or come to make the realisation far too late.

So, I'm sitting here reading Aristotle's Poetics - pretension aside, it's a nice short translation that's just a bit of fun... nothing ground breaking seeing as we all know it all already, but it's very interesting to consider that in this day and age we're not really doing anything different. Little has changed in over 2000 years. How's that for formula?

Anyhoo, Aristotle was just talking about the choices a writer makes during the writing of a tragedy and led into:

Slightly better is the situation where someone does the deed without knowing the full circumstances until afterwards [as when Agave in Bacchae kills Pentheus]: there is nothing meretricious in this, and the discovery is effective. Best of all, however, is the third alternative: as for example in Kresphontes [by Euripides; now lost] when Merope recognises her son at the very moment she is about to kill him, or the similar situation in [Euripided'] Iphigeneia in Tauris [where Iphigeneia discovers the true identity of her brother Orestes as she is about to kill him], or when the son in Helle [a play about which nothing is known] recognises his mother just as he is about to hand her to her enemy.

It got me thinking about the purpose of this thread and back to last night where, before watching The Princess Bride, I watched Night At The Museum - yes, quite a funny film. Ben Stiller's character Larry is telling Carla Gugino's Rebecca about what "really" happens at night. We, the audience, know the truth, and although we've witnessed the scene over and over in all forms of fiction, we never tire when we see it again - different characters and a different situation sure - why is that?

In fact, I grinned all the way through the scene, because I could see how Rebecca's character was going to take it, was taking it, had taken it. Haw haw haw! The audience has a vested interest in wanting the info to be known, for the protagonist to be understood.

My name is Inigo Montoya...

... You killed my father, prepare to die.


When I first saw The Princess Bride I fell immediately in love with it. It never takes itself seriously, unwittingly draws back from the most tense scenes to share a moment between grandfather and grandson, and has the greatest tongue-in-cheek fight scene that just gets me every time.

INCONCIEVABLE!

Written by novelist and screenwriter William Goldman, this low-budget, small-feeling fantasy adventure is sweet at heart and so very amusing that I recommend you all go back to yesterday and watch it on Five US, right now.

P-Arrr-ates!

I had my fingers crossed for this one - after the disappointment of Spiderman 3, I couldn't be sure they wouldn't overshoot the mark, as it seems has also been the case with Shrek 3 (sigh).

Pirates 3, At World's End, is certainly a tour de force, with Bruckheimer literally throwing anything and everything into the maelstrom - Heathen deities, undead monkeys shot from cannons, weddings mid-battle, squid-faces, betrayals, one Rolling Stone, and did I mention there was some fighting?

It opens like Return of the Jedi - Their hero, Jack Sparrow (Han Solo), missing in action, our intrepid team head to Singapore (Tatooine) to infiltrate Sao Feng's keep (Jabba the Hutt's Palace) to get him back... or rather the map that might lead them to... World's End. Seriously, it is a lot like Jedi. It lasts some time, at least it feels like it. Compared to the 2 and a half + hours running of the film though, it doesn't last too long at all.

But aside from that... do you know how difficult it is to talk about this film whilst trying not to give anything away? For example, you don't want to hear me mention things like, a highlight is the moment when we find Jack in Davy Jones's Locker (like a mythological Hades where he's forced to exist in torment), which quite mentally involves Jack living with himself, and himself, and himself - to such an extreme that I was taken aback by the sheer absurdness of the scene (and it did go on quite some time - in fact a lot of the scenes did).

What really makes the film is the plethora of complex characters they've built up over the previous two, the love triangles, and the audience's never knowing exactly who is betraying who and why... until some time later. But, it's in keeping with the spirit, even if the tone sometimes becomes a little too dark (we open with mass executions) and towards the end we have a mid-ship wedding, mid-battle.

Oh, and Jack steals the show... no, not Jack Sparrow... Jack the monkey.

Some plot points began to strain on the believability - and we get close to the feeling that Heathen Goddesses have been shoehorned in - even though it has already been setup in Dead Man's Chest.

Did I agree with the ending? Yes. It's a bitter-sweet one that was fairly surprising considering it's Disney - but then it's all about the franchise.

The Golden Compass

Aside from the obvious statements of: Why change the name you fools; the first of Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials will soon be out in the cinemas. Along with Harry Potter, I'm really looking forward to this. I see it as a well devised world, built upon a deep mythology (the objective story - as Dramatica would say), around which the world revolves and fractures. As with all good childrens stories, into this a child goes, and must battle with their own wits as well as the wits of those who threaten the child's mind and soul - ooh, deep stuff.

And of course, it always helps to have set up possible franchise elements - for example, who would be able to ignore a personal Daemon plushy? Oh, and this would be mine... taken from the Golden Compass Movie Site:



Hmm, shy? Possibly. Isn't it funny how we construct these things (as in, answer questions) in the hope of getting a cool animal, character, Daemon... when we should be filling the forms out objectively in order to see who we are, not try to coerce it... come on... we all do it... don't we?

Spidey Hi-Jinks

Here I am, only ever feeling cultured when I'm compared to my brother, and this weekend I went to see Spidey 3, when people such as MG have gone to Bridge To Teribithia, and the Painted Veil, where she's learnt much in the way of story and the nature of children's storytelling... which is nice.

I unfortunately chose Spidey for the pure fact that I've been waiting to see Venom in film for nigh-on 15 years, since I first caught him in Ultimate Spiderman (or was that the Amazing Spiderman? I can never remember). Anyhoo, Venom is my all-time fave Spidey baddy, so to get to see him strut his stuff across the screen, I thought, would make Spidey 3 a winner.


Except I was bitterly disappointed. Venom only appears in Act 3, and then, because of the CGI-ness of things, he's fleeting, always moving, always fighting or flying past the screen so that you can't enjoy him.

But, I could have forgiven Sam Raimi had the rest of the film been better - and don't get me wrong, story-wise Spidey was good, solid. The set up of past plotline - the Harry versus Peter and the love triangle - played out brilliantly. The backstory for the Sandman I could forgive, even if it was clear Raimi wanted us to believe he wasn't a bad-badguy, no, he was doing it for his daughter - sob sob.

Unfortunately the script wasn't awful, it was crap. The characters had more on-the-nose dialogue than an episode of Crossroads, and whilst there were no flimsy sets, the Peter Parker, I'm-getting-to-love-myself dancing in the street because-I'm-so-hot-and-the-ladies-love-me was grotesquely cheesy.

MINI-SPOILER COMING - BEWARE!

The separate subplots were drawn about each other in a cut-and-shut manner, because there was too many to fit in, and the denouement of Harry and Peter's failed friendship was unbelieveable poop because the writers realised they'd not provided any true, believeable means by which Harry might be able to realise/understand/come to terms with the fact that Norman Osbourne had killed himself, and it wasn't Spiderman after all.

And that's me wanting to like the film more than I did. Would I watch it again? Yes, but on DVD, so's I can watch Venom again - he's cool.