Eclectica

Mostly cogent, most of the time.

The game is on

Still up to my neck in writing my Red Planet Prize entry – still negotiating the difficult transition from first act to second. Think I cracked it on the train in this morning. Most of the books I’ve been reading have been research.

Afterblight

The new Abaddon podcast features interviews with m’colleagues Rebecca Levene, Al Ewing and Jon Green and, what’s this? Me too! I’m at the start, wittering on about Children’s Crusade.

I should point out that the interview was recorded at the end of a very long day, in a Soho gutter, and I was high as a kite on pain meds at the time. You can kind of tell…

Highlander

These are all now in the can and being edited and spruced up with magical sound effects and music and other such wizardy. Marcus Testory came and recorded his turn as Caspian, battling manfully with my elaborate script written in no way taking account of the fact that English is his second language. Bad Scott!

I also met the delightful Richard Ridings at the recording. His first words to me were “Oh YOU’RE the bastard who wrote that script! Let me tell you what a full stop is!” We had a good old natter about life the universe and everything, and he laughed at my Peppa Pig/Highlander crossover, whch made my week :-)

Brutal taskmaster that I am, I worked them both hard, but I knew they’d deliver, and they did in spades. Can’t wait for you to hear them.

Books

My one non-research tome this month was Bryant and May Off The Rails, the latest murder mystery from Christopher Fowler.

I can’t recommend his books highly enough – bizarre, complex, funny, clever and peopled with a wonderful cast of ecccentric characters, they’re a delight from start to finish.

This one, his last for a while, is particularly good and contains one fabulous narrative sleight of hand – when he reveals that the first in the series was merely Bryant’s fictionalised account of his first case, and as such was bowdlerised, exagerrated and, crucially, set much earlier than it actually occured.

Thus Fowler neatly sidesteps the increasing unlikeliness of his Detectives remaining out of an old folks’ home by retconning his own books with a playful chapter that made me beam.

Highly recommended.

Film

Last night I watched The Magnificent Seven in HD and it didn’t disappoint. Surprisingly funny, and bracingly violent, it delivered in spades.

The allocation of lines baffled, though. The credits proclaim the seven primary cast members, of whom five are giants: Yul Brynner, Steve McQueen, Robert Vaughan, Charles Bronson and James Coburn. Then we get, right across the screen in huge letters, much bigger than any of the others: AND INTRODUCING HORST BUCHHOLZ!

Um… oookay.

Horst gets more lines and screentime than almost the entire other six put together. And he didn’t knock me out. You’ve got Steve McQueen in your film, for God’s sake, one of the most charismatic screen actors ever – the camera loves him, he just drips class and cool. And you give him, what, twenty lines, and keep cutting away to this German kid who’s, y’know, okay I suppose. Baffling.

Plus, the sexual politics are hilarious. Horst manages to pull a gorgeous Mexican girl who throws herself at him over and over again throughout the film. And the reason for her ardor? He didn’t rape her. Simple as that. He found her alone, slapped her about a bit to calm her down, then threw her over his horse like a carpet and carried her back to the village. But because he didn’t rape her, she knows he’s a keeper. He’s not even that interested, he only gives in to her passion because she stalks him until he wearies of struggling.

Now, I’ve spent my entire life not raping women. Every day I get out of bed for another exciting day of not raping any women at all. And yet my life as a single man was primarily distinguished by the total lack of gorgeous honeys flinging themselves at me. Perhaps I lack something Horst had. A horse, perhaps…

Anyway, fine film, with a strong script, well defined characters and great scene after great scene, especially in the first hour. The big surprise for me was Brynner, who, despite all the stories of him being an ego-driven arse, delivered a surprisingly nuanced and enjoyable performance.

Plus: Best. Theme. Ever.

Television

Mostly I am in a permanent state of subdued SQUEE about Sherlock. The more I see of it, the better it looks. I watched a long piece that they distributed to foreign broadcasters – long since taken down – and they’ve got it SO right.