Review: Eyes Wide Open by Frederick Raphael

A book unfairly maligned in these eyes

Having recently attended the amazing Kubrick exhibition at the London Design Museum, I sought out some books on the man to learn a bit more. The first I finished was by his collaborator on the screenplay of Kubrick's last film, Eyes Wide Shut.

Kubrick shunned interviews for a very long time, and what has been publicly said about him has leaked out in often contradictory forms. Those closest to him can't speak highly enough, but don't share details, and those on his periphery share contradictory details. The result is a mystery. Who really knew him, and what was he really like?

The endless hagiographies surround the man are tiresome, so I found Raphael's untainted eyes to be a very refreshing change of pace.

Upon finishing Eyes Wide Open, I was surprised to discover the backlash, prompted by the family and associates of Kubrick, on the book's publication. Kubrick's widow both accused Raphael of betraying her late husband's privacy, as well as painting an image of him that was false.

I don't mean to sound unfeeling toward those who were close to Kubrick, but there is a slight bit of contradiction in that complaint (too revealing and false in its portrayal?).

Another faint whiff of contradiction comes from the fact that Michael Herr, another collaborator of Kubrick's, wrote a series of articles about working and knowing Kubrick for Vanity Fair, which were later collected into a book. His recollections of private conversations and moments received no criticism from friends and associates for not respecting Kubrick's privacy, but they were far more flattering by comparison.

I think those close to the real man were blinded by the proximity to someone they loved and/or admired. They saw Raphael's critical observations as cold-hearted and overly critical, frustrated that he could make such comments about someone they felt he didn't know.

The truth is, and I hope those close to Kubrick take some solace in this, that Raphael's book is not about Kubrick the husband, the father, the friend. It's not even really about Kubrick the collaborator (although it's much closer to being this), it's actually about the relationship Raphael had with Kubrick.

Raphael makes no claims to have cleared the mystique surrounding Kubrick; an experienced Hollywood screenwriter, he attempted to peer through the haze, but the mysteries surrounding Kubrick only seem to intensify the closer he got. Raphael shares his particular experiences with him, through their relationship as director and writer. It would be disingenuous (as others have tried) to suggest it is anything but a completely and frank and honest account of Raphael's view of that working relationship.

As someone not close to Kubrick, and so not hurt by unflattering portrayals of a person I miss, I read this book very differently to his bereaved friends and family. Raphael is not an omnipotent or unquestionable narrator, and nor does he present himself as such. His personality bears down into the narrative, and (from a reader's perspective) is open to as much scrutiny as his supposed subject.

Raphael never professes impartiality or objectivity, only the accuracy of his feelings and thoughts. He shares his views, his perceptions, his experiences, and, yes, he comes across as cantankerous, difficult, and cynical about Hollywood (all possibly with good reason), and even seems to acknowledge this about himself.

It's ironic, but despite the book's reputation I found Kubrick to be ultimately humble, patient, honest and understanding. Raphael's worst fears about working with him are never realised, and Kubrick stays true to his word throughout. When Raphael at one point nearly sinks the entire project by one act of accidental impropriety, Kubrick is quick to forgive and move on. Kubrick is never a beast, he's never dishonest, and is always forthright. He may be kooky at times, but there is plenty to admire about him in Raphael's account.

In fact, I found the Kubrick in Raphael's book to be largely the same one revealed in Michael Herr's book (which, despite being glowing towards Kubrick in general, could occassionally be unflattering -- calling Kubrick cheap, obsessive and demanding) and perhaps across both books we see a clearer picture of the real man: Demanding, but not with malice. Humble, but also difficult. Distant, but also soft-natured. Confident, but also searching.

We will never know the father, the husband, but across both Raphael's and Herr's lenses, we do get a glimpse of the colleague.

Also, unlike Herr's book, which is frequently embarrassing and sophomoric when it tries to offer insight into Kubrick's work, Raphael has moments of genuine and deep revelation. In fact, I could recommend his book for those rare moments alone. I've never read a better distillation of what made a Kubrick film. (The flipside is that, unlike Herr, Raphael is often embarrassing and pretentious when describing himself, especially at the beginning of his book. Soldier on, dear reader.)

So I'm sorry, friends and family of Kubrick (and by automatic extension, overprotective fans), I don't think this book does anything to damage the lasting image of the man. If anything it makes me wish I knew him better, and actually made me appreciate his work more.

I highly recommend this candid book. The author lays himself bare, and through his honesty, we get a glimpse of a very interesting, unique, and talented man that was taken from the world too soon.

---

If you want to watch Raphael share some anecdotes (aged 83, and especially cantankerous and a little full of himself, but brutally honest and entertaining none-the-less), here's a great series of videos.

No Man's Sky: A Review

I tried to post this to Steam, but unfortunately it seems their system can't handle one more negative No Man's Sky review, so I'm posting it here instead.

I've liked the idea of No Man's Sky since I first saw the incredible teaser trailer. Unlike lots of other people though, I didn't get too hyped up after that. I came to the game ready to accept whatever it was, with no preconceptions based on whatever the developer may or may not have promised. I'd been told it was slow, and chilled out, with an emphasis on exploration... and that sounded fine to me. So I finally picked it up.

First impressions: WOW. What a beautiful game! I'm immediately in love. The first two hours I loved exploring the planet I'd been placed on. Yes, the drones that are constantly pestering you seem a bit annoying, and the resource collecting wasn't fun, but I was too enamoured with how cool it looked and felt to care. I felt like I was walking around in my own private Ralph McQuarrie painting.

I was excited to uncover mysterious things around the planet, from base camps to ancient relics that taught me the language of the aliens I encountered. I wanted to explore everything, unlock everything, learn everything.

The next day I eagerly booted up the game to get back to where I was, except now I found the initial sheen had faded. Yes, the game was still beautiful, but I found I needed more for it to be fun. For the next three hours I found myself, not just disliking, but actively hating the game.

I have no idea what people think they were promised in terms of features, and I really don't care about that. This game isn't fun because it's lacking in features, it's no fun because it's completely unbalanced. Imagine playing MineCraft except you're constantly running out of space to store the ore you mine. And there's annoying drones that follow you around everywhere and attack you. And there's randomly generated plants that attack you as you walk past them. And the interface gets in the way of everything you try to do.

None of this is fun, it's all irritating.

What pleasure there is in No Man's Sky comes from doing what it is clearly at its core: Exploring beautiful alien landscapes with progressively more advanced technology. That's it. The rest of the features of the game feels like an attempt at making it more interesting by inserting annoyances.  Yes, annoyances.

Let's talk about each one in turn:

THE DRONES
As you wander about exploring, every planet in the entire universe has these little drones that may attack you and pull in their friends until you're overwhelmed. The good part is that you can usually ignore them, or jetpack away from them, the bad part is that they actively get in the way of what's fun about NMS: Exploring beautiful alien landscapes.

These digital gnats are the present and the same on every planet. Who owns them? What do they do? Why are they present everywhere, even planets you're supposedly discovering for the first time? Aside from being annoying pests that are NO FUN to fight, they actively homogenise the galaxy. The beautiful alien planets are little less special, a little less alien, because wherever you go... there they are. The exact same annoying drones. ON EVERY SINGLE PLANET.

The same can be said for the tentacled plants that attack you as you walk past them. You discover a weird alien planet that, literally, no other player has ever seen before... and there's the same plants that are on every other planet. Why? Because the developers thought the player needed some sort of challenge? They're not challenging, they're annoying, and they damage your immersion in the atmosphere it's trying to create.

THE ALIENS/THE BASE CAMPS
One of the best things about NMS is the beautiful imagery, the fact that each planet is a little bit different. You can wander over a hill and find a genuinely beautiful vista, or into a cave filled with glowing wonders. Make no mistake, this is a game where its beauty is a big selling point. Exploration of beautiful things is basically what this game excels at, and does better than any other game. Unfortunately it seems only half the dev team got this memo. The aliens and base camps that populate every planet are ugly, dull and almost entirely the same!

Again, the atmosphere this game is trying to create; the exploration of infinitely different planets, is damaged by this bland design choice. There's no diversity or anything interesting about what you discover.

On top of this, the camps themselves are ugly. I want to discover encampments that look as different and interesting as the rest of the alien planet. And I don't want to fly into a space station only to discover that internally it looks the same as every base camp on every planet. It's soul crushing, and it makes me hate this game.

If you want me to chill out and enjoy exploring things, dev team, then give me things that are worth exploring. Make me feel there's something new to discover. Not just a single alien sat in a room on their own who will give me an item when I talk to them.

RESOURCE JUGGLING
Imagine a version of MineCraft where you're constantly having to return home to store TINY amount of the resources you need. Only to discover that, even at home, you can barely store enough. In NMS you're constantly having to keep topping up resources instead of being able to stockpile what you've taken the time to plunder.

By limiting the player so severely on what they can carry, the game actively pushes against you exploring. Once again it seem to be unsure of what it wants to be: Everything about the core experience of the game is exploration, and everything that's been tacked on that core is pushes against you being able to enjoy it.

Having the patience and temperament to explore a planet and mine it to oblivion is actually punished. Every trip around a planet consumes so much energy that you're constantly having top up fuel, leaving little time or space in your inventory, to do much else. This means that even taking the time to explore and mine feels unrewarding.

THE INTERFACE
As the game is so heavy on trying to push you towards resource management, you'd think at least that aspect of the game could be enjoyable. Nope, the user interface makes EVERYTHING you have to do a chore. And a confusing and messy one at that.

Why can't the progress through this game be more clearly sign-posted? Why can't it clearly and succinctly explain what everything is? Why can't it make the chore of upgrading and resource management less of a chore? Upgrading technology is confusing and again, there's little sense of reward.

Other sections of the UI are just as bad. It literally gives me a headache just thinking about it. Consider how you earn credits for "uploading" the name of every planet, creature and outpost you discover. Instead of making this a pleasurable experience that feels rewarding for having collected so many items, the game forces you to manually upload each one INDIVIDUALLY.

This tedious task sums up everything that's wrong about the UI perfectly, and maybe even the game itself: Nothing, except the core exploration of planets, is pleasurable to do... and the game does everything it can to even make that unpleasurable.

FINAL THOUGHTS
The game is beautiful to look at... and it should be beautiful to play. Unfortunately it's almost like a bunch of extremely average developers were handed a piece of genius planet-building technology. If only the beauty of its core technology extended to the rest of the game experience.

The developers can add bases, space battles, online play, virtual poker, whatever other features the moany public insists this game is supposed to have, but it's never actually going to be fun to play until they fix the turgid, bland, unrewarding core experience.

London Second City Improv Class: My Review

The rather wonderful Angel Comedy Club in London, and the comedy blog, Comedy Blogedy, reached out to the legendary Second City improv troupe/training school and set up two week's worth of classes in May 2016. I attended the first week's "Improv for Beginners (Level A)" and kept a diary of my thoughts after each day.

Here they are:

Day One

The class began with two simple tasks. The first was introducing yourself by telling the class something they didn't know about you, and the second was inventing a silly alliterative action to go along with your name.

I was so petrified that I was unable to even think of something beginning with the letter "J"... I ending up with "jingling", and I still don't really know what I meant.

Jumping, jolly, jovial, jammy, jaded, jokey, jittery... Hmm. It's much easier when there's not the pressure of 20 strangers in the room.

As the games continued, our excellent teacher slowly chipped away at everyone's hesitance and self-consciousness, encouraging us to trust our instincts. The cardinal rule being that there was never a "wrong answer", there was only ever something you brought to the game.

We were admonished for acting like we'd made a mistake and beating ourselves up, or reacting to our scene partner's input as if it was wrong. We were encouraged to allow ourselves to do what we liked, and take any suggestions that came our way as a gift. We were a team, and our job was to enthusiastically embrace whatever came our way, and make our partner look good.

Our teacher successfully managed to create a safe environment. By the end of the class we'd all loosened up and were having fun with each other.

I've already learned a lot about myself and what I need to improve. For example, during the "create a story a word at a time" game, I noticed I was always playing it safe with pronouns  - and even my game partner commented on it. He was absolutely right. When I decided to offer something more interesting, it got a huge laugh from the group.

Likewise, [in another game] when we were mimicking each other's moves, I found it hard to build on what people had just done, and take it to new heights [like we were supposed to]. It nearly always ended up with attempting to do it louder, which was a shame because there were so many ways it could have gone. I could have really had fun with it, and it never would have been wrong.

Let's see what day two holds!

Day Two

Today we actually slipped into some scene work without too much fuss. It wasn't blown up into something big, it was just expected of us... and we did it. Even me.

It was scary but good. I even got a few genuine laughs of my own... a very generous audience.

Halfway through the day I actually felt, for the first time, comfortable. I just relaxed and stopped worrying so much. It's tiring bring worried, and part of me just gave up and let go. It was a good feeling.

[Of course, I was still a tad anxious the next morning going in.]

I learned a bit more about Angel Comedy and I'm seriously impressed with their founder (Barry Fern) and what they've achieved. It seems like a home for comedy without ego, driven by the pure fun of it. It feels so genuine that the energy is infectious.

I backed their Kickstarter (something in the bar will permanently have a plaque named for me) and hope they do well. Maybe I could volunteer my services to improve their website. Dull, but it's something I can offer and do well.

Onto Day Three...

Day Three

Today was the most emotional day so far, which was fitting as we were focusing on doing emotional work in class. Today marked the point we were over halfway through, as well as the first time we socialised after class as a group.

I discovered my class is filled with interesting and ambitious people. (Where were they all when I was single and unemployed and desperately lonely, looking for direction?) Being with them is very inspiring, in the sense that they make their achievements (eg. performing stand-up, and all the struggles that go with that) seem... everyday.

Talking about doing a stand-up gig around these people doesn't feel like a life-breaking, brain-shattering, earth-shaking experience. It feels like a difficult, trying, anxiety-inducing... but normal experience.

In class I learned that people enjoy seeing a thread of behaviour grow to its logical, heightened conclusion. A small taste of behaviour before moving on to something else is unsatisfying for the audience. They want a narrative to follow, and changing tack breaks that narrative.

The key seems to be to make an interesting choice and stick to it until you've drained it.

The saddest part of the day was realising how genuinely upset I'm going to be when the course ends.

Only two days to go...

Day Four

The worst thing about today is knowing that tomorrow is the last day. It's been a hell of a roller-coaster, and I'm going to miss it when it's gone. I've learned so much.

The most important thing [I've learned] is trusting in myself and trusting in the process. Throwing yourself into a situation is OK. In fact it's better than OK, it works. You don't need a plan. You can purely rely on your brain's instincts to give you what you need. The only thing that stops that process is your fear.

And what's more, it's FUN to discover where you end up. You're discovering at the same time as everyone else, and it's enjoyable.

After tonight's show I went to a gig with a classmate where our teacher, Erica Elam, was performing. I felt self conscious for her, worried that she would be put off by our presence, but I needn't have.

Everything we've learned from the course was on full display, and then some. She's was fearless and present, and the comedy flowed naturally.

This course has been a life-changing experience.  From the people I've met, to the things I've learned. I feel personally changed for the better, and I hope beyond hope that I can continue to practice [improv].

Last Day

The last day was extremely emotional. After a physically and mentally exhausting five days, I feel a bit lost. Tomorrow I won't be pushing myself out of my comfort zone. I have no big scary thing to face... and I miss it already.

I can't think of anything that's pushed me quite as hard, or excited me quite as much. We've finished [Second City Improv] Level A, but there's no Level B waiting for us [like there is in the US]. We're on our own now... and that "we" has no leader, only the vaguest collective idea of how to move forward, and we will ultimately, inevitably dwindle.

It's a sad moment.

On the flip side I've learned a lot about what I'm capable of. I've got a solid foundation in the basics of improv, and I've achieved my goal: I'm more in touch with my instincts than ever before. Right now I trust in my ability to take a situation and find something funny it. I know my brain will fill in the gaps and make the connection, all I have to do is listen [and practise!].

The most difficult part of improv is learning to trust in your instincts. It's a personal battle for every new improviser, and I'm sure it's ongoing [even when you've mastered it]. As our teacher put it, it's a struggle against our societal conditioning. Kids are great at improvising, but as we get older we're taught to restrain ourselves, and improv is sort of fighting back against that pressure, getting in touch with our most creative part... without fear.

This week has been a major step toward that [for me].

Everything seems a little brighter today. Building seem bigger, colours seem more vibrant.

Now is a sad moment, but I'm happy that I was brave enough to give it to myself.

The Morning After

After spending the last five days feeling like I was being shot out of a canon (at ever increasing speeds), and last night's resulting free-fall once class was over, this morning was a painful crash-landing back into reality. But I've dusted myself off and what I'm noticing is that I'm different. The most obvious thing is that I'm less self-critical. I feel like I should be able to create more easily now, and with less self-awareness. This was my main goal when I decided to take the course, and I'm more than a little amazed that it's what I feel I'm taking away from the experience.

There's still a long way to go, but I'm definitely on the right path. I just have to keep walking down it, and not get waylaid.

---

Pushing myself out of my comfort zone for that week was immensely rewarding, and something I highly recommend. For those interested, here's how I felt I'd changed after one week with Second City:

• I noticed my default reaction to everyday frustrations was altered. Instead of getting irritated and annoyed by little things that didn't go exactly how I expected/wished them to, I found myself reacting as you would in an improv scene: Accepting them as a gift and focusing on my reaction instead. (A much more desirable and productive response!)

• I found myself less in my head, and more paying attention to what was going on around me - again as you would in an improv scene when you're listening.

As for improv itself, I now can see what the pros are doing more whenever I watch it. They really do make a pretty tricky process look effortless. 

As the saying goes, "Improv is getting up in the air and building the plane as you go". I now fully appreciate what that means. I've learned that taking a leap of faith is part of the process, and that it's not a problem if you don't know what you're going to say or do, because when you're doing it right, you're truly allowing yourself to be completely open and react in the moment (which I can imagine takes years to master).

For me it was a leap of faith, and it felt great when it worked. What I discovered is that, if you're brave enough to step out, your brain will make the connections for you. It's what it does all day anyway -- we're all improvising all of the time. The trick is to allow yourself to trust in that process.

It's jumping off the cliff and figuring it out on the way down, or as Keegan-Michael Key puts it, zooming out...

Thanks to our instructor, Erica Elam, and my classmates. If you're reading this wondering whether you should take a Second City improv course, my advice is YES! Be brave and go for it. You'll thank yourself later.

Links:

• Angel Comedy
• Angel Comedy's Kickstarter (ends July 21, 2016)
• Second City
• Comedy Blogedy

A closer look at Serenity -- Why didn't it save Firefly?

After the Fox TV network lost faith in the show they'd ordered and coldly watched it die, both fans and the cast and crew of Firefly were heartbroken, but the good vibes surrounding the show were strong enough for the almost-impossible to happen: A major feature film was made.

Serenity was creator Joss Whedon's vision, pure and unfiltered (for the most part), without any of the meddling executives. Unlike Fox, Universal actually wanted to see more Firefly.

The feature film version (named, for legal reasons, Serenity after the central ship), was an opportunity for everyone who believed in the show to prove the world (and especially Fox), that it shouldn't have been cancelled, that its universe did hold widespread appeal. Fans on both sides of the camera hoped that this could be the new Star Wars. Some wryly speculated that its success might even spawn a TV spin-off...

Except none of that happened.

Despite garnering critical praise and winning numerous awards, Serenity was a flop at the cinema, and, although DVD sales helped put the movie into the black, they weren't high enough to create interest in a sequel.

Initially there were some grumbles about how the film had been marketed, but after all this time, was that the only reason it failed to set the world alight? Were there flaws within the film itself?

After recently working my through all 14 episodes of the Firefly TV series, and falling in love with it all over again, I viewed the film with fresh eyes, made a few notes... and came to the conclusion that, yes, I think there may have been a few issues with the movie itself.

Note: This isn't a "review" of Serenity, it's a critical look at what I see as its major faults, with a specific focus on how someone new to the Firefly universe might perceive them (it was them who needed to be won over, after all). And while the film did successfully convert me to a Firefly (and Joss Whedon) fan, it never managed to cross-over to a larger market, and I wanted to know why.

Here's what I see as the film's undeniable problems...


Best. Opening. Ever.

Ok, so this is the opposite of a problem, but watching the film again for this piece, it struck me how Serenity has just about the best opening 10 minutes of any sc-fi film ever. It's smart, gripping, exciting, it's near perfect. After it's finished, the title appears, and a wonderful, lifting score kicks in. It's goosebump city.

A portion of the audience has already decided that this film is utterly amazing (I was in that portion). Just as you think it can't get any better, a chunk of metal flies off the spaceship, and with a quick cut, before we can even laugh, we see the Captain turn to his pilot. "What was that?" And so begins the story proper. And so, unfortunately, do the problems.

We're introduced to our protagonists, the crew of Serenity, through a long scene without any cuts. According to writer/director Whedon, this was done to try and give the audience a sense that they were on "solid ground" after all that jumping around in time and space. In other words, this ship just got real. (Sorry.)

I love continuous takes as much as the next continuous takes fan, but there's a time and place for them, and this one doesn't really work for a number of reasons. For a start, it didn't make me feel on "solid ground". It's actually very frantic, we're pummelled with lots of information, and lots of camera movements. That could be fine by itself, but definitely doesn't do what Whedon hoped it would.

There's a bigger problem as a result of this shooting choice, however, and that's the fact that we don't get all the information we need. Dramatic moments do not have much available film language with which to give them any weight. You can't cut to someone's reaction, for example, you can only swing the camera around as fast as you can. With film, the camera should be part-narrator, helping to tell the same story the actors are.

Using long takes seems to work best when you're in a scene where you know who everyone is, and what the stakes are going in (see Crimes and Misdemeanors), but it definitely works against you when you're trying to impart lots of information. You can't easily inform the audience about what's important, and what's non-essential (but amusing) chit chat, and it's possibly because of these limitations that the Simon and Mal confrontation doesn't work as well as it should. It's a great moment on paper, but it doesn't work for someone new to the characters because the film language doesn't give any indication of its importance.

Also, rather unfortunately, the ADR work on the scene (where actors dubbing their lines in a studio afterwards to hide the clomping the camera crew in the background) was very poorly done, making us feel even less "connected" to what's happening. (The opposite of what Joss said he wanted.)

And unfortunately the problems are just the beginning for the newbies...

The Chase Sequence

Our first major force of conflict appears, they are known as "Reavers". We don't know anything about them, but in order for them to be a legitimate threat the audience has to believe one thing: The Reavers are a very real and very terrifying danger. Even if you're a group of fully-armed war-vets and mercenaries, it's pant-wetting time. The audience needs to believe this for not only the chase sequence to work, but also for the story to work as a whole. After they've been introduced, the idea of meeting one again should haunt the audience.

Whedon attempts to sell this necessary fear in a simple (and you might say, classic) way: If all the characters are scared at the mere mention of Reavers, then not only must they be something worth being scared of, but it's left up to the audience to decide exactly why.

This can be a very effective trick, as I'm sure we all know. A viewer's imagination can tailor a movie monster's menacing qualities to their own idiosyncratic fears, in theory creating a scarier threat for themselves. All it takes is a sense of creeping danger to get audiences' creative fear-juices flowing...

Unfortunately, when the Reavers appear, the viewer is completely in a comfort zone: A bank-heist that's actually going well, and is highly amusing to boot. There's no real sense of threat, and no reason to believe the characters can't handle anything the universe throws their way. It's even broad daylight, in a populated area. There's nothing to help germinate a sense of fear in the audience (although I think Whedon was hoping the jump from funny to fearful would be unsettling).

Outwardly there's even less to fear: Our heroes carry guns, while the Reavers are apparently too feral for that. We're never actually shown how ineffective four people with guns could be against a horde of Reavers. Hell, we never even see a horde of Reavers, we only really see about three, but surely guns could take them out?

We also don't actually know how tough our characters are. If we'd already seen them kick ass against a terrifying foe, but then act afraid of Reavers, we may be able to gauge that this new enemy was a very serious threat (this is how they were introduced in the series). But we don't. Our protagonists have only tackled a group of country-bumpkins, and since they've just committed a crime, it's natural to think that they'd like to leave ASAP anyway, Reavers or no Reavers.

This lack of terror hurts the movie immediately, and is felt so strongly that, when we see a townsman run towards our gang, begging to be taken with them, my immediate thought was not, "He wants to get away from the Reavers", it was, "Poor guy, stuck on this backwoods world, wants to go on space adventures with some space bandits". (I did get what Whedon wanted me to get, just not immediately.)

And the damage continues: In the ensuing chase sequence, our heroes are escaping from... what? A bunch of stunt men in make-up? A ship covered in red paint? It's hard to feel emotionally involved because we have no reason to feel our protagonists are in any real danger. Also, it's not very well directed, sad to say. (Joss Whedon is apparently very aware of début directorial short-comings on the film's Blu-ray, admitting he'd completely re-shoot the whole scene if he could.)

The chase's climax is also falls limp; Our hearts should already be pounding when a final bit of flaming debris nearly slices Mal in two (this "second shock" trick worked brilliantly in Die Hard), but not only is our heart beating calmly, but the debris looks far too flimsy as it bounces along the deck. It's a huge shame, as the script is tight and the story beats are good.

We're then back on Serenity, with the crew and their ill-gotten gains, and we've learned a lot about the characters and their relationship to one another, that's good. (Watchers of the original series will have note that Mal has returned to his infinitely more interesting "hardened" self from the original pilot.)

Unfortunately there's one more problem...

The Bar Fight

In a bar, that classic Western/sci-fi staple, we learn that the successful bank-heist has turned somewhat sour. Mal is being forced to give up 15% of his crew's earnings, but in an odd editing choice, we're not allowed to hear the justification as to why. A few words from his shady employers explaining that they're taking the extra percentage simply because they can, would have been all that was needed, and indeed this dialogue was filmed, but it was cut (presumably in order to try and make the viewer focus more on River -- a controversial choice).

So we're left wondering what's going on, why the one plot thread they've been introduced to has been yanked out of earshot, when River suddenly gets "activated". The inevitable bar fight ensues.

Although Summer Glau's flexible fighting skills are incredible, the brawl itself doesn't emotionally engage with the audience because there's no context: Why are the people in the bar fighting with her? If they're under threat, why aren't people trying to escape?

When Luke Skywalker had his scuffle with the ugly man with the death mark on three systems, the rest of the bar acted in a way we could understand: Avoid a fight, hope it will go away on its own. In Serenity it becomes a Wrestlemania cage fight for no apparent reason.

I'm fairly certain that the idea was supposed to be that a dispassionate and indiscriminate killing machine had just been released into a public space, but once again there's not a sense of immediate danger because the exit appears to be available to everyone in the bar, and hardly anyone is shown making a break for it. If these people want to stay and fight and get their asses kicked, then you can't help but feel that's their problem. Sure, some people try and leave, but the set design and direction never makes us feel as though River is holding people these people against their will: A lot of them seem to be attacking her.

What are we supposed to be feeling here? Are we supposed to feel bad for the patrons as River is taking them down? (Are they all thugs? Are they normal tax payers looking for a quiet night out? Do they want to escape? If they want to fight, why do they want to fight? Out if pride? Out of ego? Out of a desire to prove how manly they are? Out of self-defence? For the enjoyment of a battle? To see if they could best her? We don't know.)

Compare this again with the cantina in Star Wars. That venue had a vibe. You expected trouble there. You felt like you knew the patrons, that they weren't faceless nobodies. You could probably can imagine how they would react in this situation. Can anyone say the same about the patrons of the Serenity bar? Were they hard-working, innocent miners looking for a drink after a long day drilling? Were they all smugglers and bandits making shady deals? Were they deadly mercenaries? We don't know: They were just more stuntmen in generic costumes.

This confusion about who is attacking who and why is a shame because it hurts the final shot of the fight; Mal slowly putting down his weapon, his heart racing. This would have worked much better if it we'd felt he was in danger against his will. Instead we're wondering why this cold, selfish man didn't run out the bar's open exit. (Although it's possible he was trying to protect the patrons of the bar, it doesn't seem to be in keeping with his character -- although maybe I'm wrong there.) This problem isn't as bad as the audience not fearing the Reavers, but it also wasn't as engaging directed as it was written, and so another opportunity to engage the audience was lost.

Either way, the audience should have had two big jolts of adrenaline at this point in the movie. They should also be secretly hoping that the Reavers aren't going to come back.

If they'd had those things, I think the film would have been largely fine at this point. Everything would have been set up so the subsequent story turns would have had all the weight and resonance they needed.

Well, apart from one other minor hiccup before we reach the end: Shepherd Book.

Everyone unfamiliar with Firefly had no idea who the hell he was, and it felt like we should have (I was one of them). The scene with Mal and Book was pointless and weird, and didn't help explain who this man was or why the crew were there. Or what his relationship with them was. But hey, that's pretty minor compared to these other problems.

(Note: Shepherd Book was originally on Serenity throughout the film, and it was another unknown character they sought refuge with. When Whedon was forced to write Book out of the story, it made sense to switch the characters -- the crew did have a relationship with him, after all. At least for fans of the show -- those new to the party were wondering why such weight was given to his scenes.)

The Ending

Ok, I lied. There is actually one final big problem: The triumph of the protagonists is not something we, the audience, can easily relate to. Consider, once again, the final battle in Star Wars or The Matrix. When our heroes win, we feel their victory, we feel their triumph. In Serenity, their (most obvious) successes are felt by unknown people across the universe. People we don't care about. Our heroes survive, but they also suffered serious losses, and this "down" feeling is what we're left with. Yes, I believe that more people felt and related to Zoe's pain, than Mal or River's salvation.

You big whiner! So you're saying Serenity failed as a movie?

Absolutely not, at least not for fans of the series. Upon watching it an additional time for this blog post (to make sure I wasn't totally wrong about the problems I'd identified), I noticed that it actually works as a perfect ending for the series itself.

For the first time I saw really Mal's story. And not Mal's story from the beginning of the film, but his story from the beginning of the series. In the very first scene of the series, we watch Mal lose all faith as he has everything he believes in taken away from him. In the final scene of the film, we see man restored, optimistic about the future, with something to believe in again. (And, aptly enough, the first episode of the show shares the title of the movie.)

This layer means that the passengers we watched Mal take onboard at the beginning of the series, Simon, River, and Book, actually held the key to his own personal salvation. This character arc is in the film, but Whedon buried it deep.

If you missed it, consider Shepherd Book's dying words. A man of faith talking to a man without any: "I don't care what you believe. Just believe it."

Likewise, thanks to River, Mal discovers a truth that leads to him finally seeing something bigger than himself (self-obsession is usually the cause of nihilism). By the end of the film he's a whole person again, his heart no longer dead.

In the process of re-developing his own belief system he shatters that of his nemesis, The Operative, who is the ultimate nihilist. (His final words, after Mal tells him he'd better not see him again, "You won't. There is nothing left to see.")

River also finds her salvation through Serenity, finally finding peace at the end of the film thanks, not just to the love of her brother, and the family she's found on the ship, but to Mal for helping her excise her demons (in the original script it's made clear that a large part of her mental problems stem from the horrible truth about Miranda).

Serenity is Mal's and River's story, of how they saved each other, and if there's ever a sequel, we'll be seeing a different side to them than we've ever seen before. (Note: There's never going to be a sequel.)

In this way, it's actually an utterly fantastic and rewarding script. But we knew the problem was never going to be on the page, didn't we?

But...

Unfortunately it took me five watches to see Mal's journey. As a first-time viewer I wasn't left with a sense of joy, or even success, it was pain and loss. Hell, it wasn't even bittersweet. Our losses as a viewer were too great, and the gains too small, too hidden. Joss cut us too deeply to notice the salve he tried to apply. And yes, Wash's death is a big part of that.

(Interestingly, Whedon justifies his decision to kill Wash on the Serenity Blu-ray commentary, making the point that if the audience is upset, it means he did the right thing. The obvious response to that is: Dear Joss, if you killed off Willow, you would probably have to go into hiding. That doesn't mean it's the right thing to do -- it just means you made us care. Signed, Everyone.)

Wouldn't you have just loved the movie even more if Wash and Book survived? I know I would have. And indeed that's exactly what happened in Whedon's original 190 page "kitchen sink" version of the script (available online, Firefly fans!). And don't forget that Whedon revealed that he had every intention of resurrecting both characters if there was a sequel. (There won't be a sequel.)

That original script also featured this wonderful piece of dialogue between Zoe and Simon, that really helps the audience become aware that Mal's spiritual salvation is an important part of the story:

SIMON

You were in that same war. But
you live almost like a person
might; you have an actual
relationship — a marriage. You
didn't turn into some... Gorgon...

ZOE

I'm career Army, my whole family
is. I was already in when the war
started. Mal volunteered. He
joined the fight because he
believed. He believed his planet
should be left alone. Believed we
would win if we gave our hearts to
it, that his generals wouldn't lay
down arms while his men were still
dying around him... that God would
help us in our darkest place.

She cinches a knot tight, moves to the next body.

ZOE
(continuing)

See, that's the difference between
Mal and me. All I ever lost was a war.

So, when all is said and done, we finally have a complete understanding as to why we won't be seeing any more Firefly: Because the executives at Fox sold us all down the river.

The end. 

Monkey Island Memory Trip

I wrote this little piece for the LucasArts fansite Mixnmojo. They currently have a complete retrospective on the classic The Secret of Monkey Island, featuring interviews with project leader Ron Gilbert and artist Mark Ferrari. I think it turned out rather nicely, so I'm posting it here, too.

Hope you enjoy it!

The Secret of Monkey Island was the first adventure game I ever completed. I first read about it in issue #2 of Amiga Power, and became mesmerised by the promise of being able to play a character in my own little movie. I needed this game, but unfortunately it required a 0.5 megabyte RAM upgrade in order to be played. There was nothing I could do. So I obsessed about playing it, re-reading the review over and over, waiting for my birthday to come around so I could get the upgrade.

Finally, when the day came, I amazingly (and this has never happened to me since) wasn't disappointed. In fact, if anything, I was even more blown away than I'd imagined I would be. From the moment I heard the opening plinks and plonks of the xylophone and saw the 'LucasFilm Games' logo appear at precisely the right moment, I fell absolutely, head over heels, in love. I sat listening to the buoyant, joyous music and, enthralled, watched the entire opening credits (and doing so became a ritual every time I loaded the game, feeling it would be sacrilege to skip them). Then came the opening conversation (the first time Guybrush Threepwood was introduced to the world!), and it was simple, earnest and funny; a perfect description of the game I was about to play.

I remember finding myself on the moonlit pier of the beautifully and romantically realised Mêlée Island and, attempting to introduce myself to the interface, did the first thing the developers had intended me to do: LOOK AT POSTER, I told it. "Vote Governor Marley", Guybrush read, "When there's only one candidate, there's only one choice". The tone was set and the game continued from there. It was almost a spiritual experience, I couldn't believe I was seeing something actually smart, clever and genuinely funny in a computer game. I felt like I was playing a movie. My favourite movie. It was like Indiana Jones and Star Wars rolled into one.

It's important to remember that, back in those days, adventure games were almost entirely made up of dry, humourless, unforgiving experiences. I'd tried plenty and they'd all promised me the same thing; the freedom to lead my character through an exciting and entertaining adventure, but only The Secret of Monkey Island succeeded. It created a wonderfully welcoming universe, filled with little surprises and nice touches. Every single character, for example, had a perfectly rounded personality that could be appreciated in just a few lines of dialogue -- without the need for a tedious back-story (much in the same way a character like Dr Hibbert in The Simpsons can). Even today this is a rarity. The presentation, the characters and the overall sense of fun completely engulfed me, and I loved every minute of it.

This was an adventure game, no, a computer game, that had charm, wit and personality. An adventure game that didn't take itself too seriously, but at the same time didn't fall into the easy trap of being self-referential or fourth-wall busting, either. No, this was a genuinely joyful adventure that stayed true to its storyline and characters, while letting you feel you were part of the fun. I'll never have that experience again, but I'll always cherish The Secret of Monkey Island. After all, you never forget your first love.

Thoughts on... Guitar Hero 3

Guitar Hero 3 finally came out here in rainy England and I've just finished a three hour session. Impressions? Well... First of all, I'm surprised just how far I've got already. While there does seem to be some bad song timing (the ZZ Top one springs to mind), GH3 is also more forgiving than GH2. As such, I'm already over halfway through and I've not failed a song yet on Medium.

The second thing I noticed is that the song selection is GREAT. Rather than it being made up of songs and bands that I've not heard of, here I find myself knowing much more of the songs, and even if I don't know the band, recognizing the song... It's great. Playing Weezer's My Name is Jonas was worth the price of admission alone (almost).

My third impression is what's wrong with GH3: I know it's been said by others but Neversoft (the new developers of Guitar Hero) just don't appear to understand the music. The game looks nice, don't get me wrong, but with GH2 you could feel the love. Here it's all a bit cold, corporate and sometimes embarrassing.

After your "guitar battle" with Tom Morrello you get to play a classic Rage track... but before it comes on, the "camera" follows a female dancer in some stupidly tight leather pants and a tight top and she starts to dance.

This is RAGE AGAINST THE MACHINE here - not KISS! Rage were a very serious, politically-aware band. Morrello's guitar has "arm the homeless" on it, not "suck my love pump"! Zack Da La Rocha used to write FUCK SEXISM FUCK HOMOPHOBIA FUCK RACISM on his chest... and yet the camera is following this bored, half-assed, no-brained representation of a dancer across the stage... it's so incredibly NOT about the music. If you love Rage, this just feels incredibly inappropriate.

It's not the end of the world, obviously, but it really makes me imagine a bunch of guys in suits, smoking cigars saying, "Hmm, this track is a bit serious isn't it? Let's sex it up a little, eh?".

More evidence of Neversoft "not feeling the love" (if any more is needed) can be easily seen comparing GH2 and GH3's Career path. In GH2 you start off in a college gym, playing to a small crowd. You move to a small club. To a reasonable venue. To a massive venue. To an insane gig at Stonehenge with UFOs. (All, except the last one, rendered with nice, accurate touches of authenticity.) For you and your band, it's all about the music... You've become successful, obviously, but it's all about the live performance.

With GH3 you start off in a trendy winebar (or something weird), move on to what looks like a cross between an MTV video and a stripbar and then, on the third level, you're in a STUDIO, on the back of a fake truck, with smoke machines, filming a music video.

Woah, Neversoft, woah....

Firstly, one of, if not THE most enjoyable thing about Guitar Hero is playing your music to a screaming, adoring crowd... The thrill of the cheer, as it were. Except, on level three we're in corporate land, playing the songs to a director and some guys in suits... What the hell?! The crowd nose is still there... except there's no crowd. It's an oddly hollow experience and I was glad to finish the level and move on.

(Talking about crowds: The first time I got an encore in GH2, it felt great. The crowd kept cheering and then clapping in unison. I felt their love. Oh yes. In GH3 it couldn't be any less exciting if a Windows dialogue box popped up and and said "Play encore? Yes/No". Seriously. There is zero atmosphere.)

Next level: England. A great time to bring out some brilliant British rock acts, eh? Tip the hat to some classic Brit rock! The Who? Iron Maiden? Black Sabbath? Spinal Tap (nudge, nudge)? David Bowie? Led Zeppelin? So many more to choose from and it could all culminate in the specially recorded version of Anarchy in the UK by the Sex Pistols! It would have a nice touch and a cool level...

Instead, we get, Black Sabbath (good start), The Sex Pistols (great), Sonic Youth (huh?), Weezer (what?) culminating with...... PEARL JAM! (wtf?). Why even bother?! I know that GH2 had the Stone Henge level, but that was iconic, this just seems a wasted opportunity.

After this, in the little animations that tell the story of your career, you're accused of "selling out" so you do a gig in a prison to increase your credibility. This could have been REALLY cool. It would have been a perfectly level for some moody, heart-felt blues-ey tunes. The songs could have really made this work, but, as ever, Neversoft don't get the tone, so we get... Scorpions...!? SCORPIONS!?! *sigh*

After the successful prison gig we get another animation... and with this one the ideology behind GH3 is revealed in all its corporate glory: Your band are bored, watching the news, when they're mentioned; Apparently their popularity is up from last week... THANK GOD! They cheer! Yay! Being in a band is like playing the stock market! Yay! As long as we're popular, that's all that matters! Yay! High five! Maybe we'll get that Coke commercial! Yay!

GH3 was not made by music lovers.

Some of the comments between songs, really, truly suck, too.

When it comes down to it, GH2 was a true-to-its-roots, honest to god, all-about-the-music rock band. It was Led Zeppelin. In comparison, GH3 is a corporate assembled and approved rock band... with all the slick production that goes with it. By comparison, it's Hanson.

I'm sure most people won't give a flying monkey's about all this stuff, and they probably don't even notice, either. Overall, it might be humourless, but it's still Guitar Hero and the track-listing is AMAZING. Even the non master recordings sound really really good.

I'll play it. I'll really enjoy it. I'll recommend it to friends. But it won't get my heart.

--------------------------------------

There's been quite a reaction from Guitar Hero fans regarding the portrayal of women by Neversoft in Guitar Hero 3, and it makes very interesting reading:

• Portrayal of women in Guitar Hero 3
• Guitar Hero 3 vs Rock Band

Retro write-up: Alan Moore 'Lost Girls' talk

On the 12 October 2006, Alan Moore and Melinda Gebbie appeared at the Institute of Contemporary Arts to talk with their friend Stewart Lee about the forth-coming release of their pornographic comic, Lost Girls. While those of us in the UK are still waiting for the official January 1st 2008 release (thanks to copyright issues surrounding Peter Pan), eBay and Amazon have mercifully allowed fans to get their eager mitts on Lost Girls now.

With Alan Moore about to make another public appearance on October 26th, in connection with Ian Sinclair's soon-to-be-published [in paperback] London: City of Disappearances (for which Moore wrote a short story, along with many other contributors), I thought I'd post my original write up of the ICA event for any Alan Moore fans who read this.

Tickets are still available, for the upcoming event, and if you decide to come, I'll see you there!

(Fans of Moore and Gebbie might also like to read their recent interview with Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell author Susanna Clarke, from the Daily Telegraph.)

Here's what I wrote a year ago to this day [with some comments], in response to those asking for an account of the bearded one's public appearance:

----------------------

I suppose I should write something!

It was really good. Both Melinda and Alan were great. Stewart Lee seemed a little nervous as host, and he said so, but he never explained why (the [pornographic] material or the whole set-up?), but he was still great too. He never lost the thread of the conversation and pulled Alan back when he did.

In fact, Stewart Lee did a very good job indeed. He even confronted Alan a bit about some of the aspects of Lost Girls which he thought were cartoony, and also when an audience member asked Alan that, considering he gets upset about how his work is treated by other people (namely, filmmakers), how did he think the original authors of Alice in Wonderland, The Wizard of Oz and Peter Pan would feel about his use of their characters.

Alan sort of avoided the question, apparently hoping that none of us would notice, but Stewart Lee pulled him right back and forced him to answer properly. Which he did, extremely well, too. Basically he said that, with his work, they used the same title, so many people think that the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen and From Hell films are taken from his writings. As a result of this, his work is diminished because he becomes associated with a crap movie he had nothing to do with, rather than a good book that he wrote.

This is of course, his real bone with Hollywood, and it's good to hear his real reasons for his hatred, rather than the usual cack-handed rationalisation he hands out by way of explanation ["they cost too much money" etc.].

Stewart Lee opened the evening by pointing out the bizarre situation: They were about to talk about a book that a tiny percentage of the audience have read and that wasn't even officially released yet. But they did do just that, and I think that they did a great job. They used images from the book projected onto a screen behind them, so they could talk about specific things.

A lot of what what said has already been said in many Moore and Gebbie interviews about the book, but it's always nice to hear it from the horse's mouth, so-to-speak, and most people there probably hadn't read the interviews anyway.

Some of the things discussed were; The original inspiration (Moore wanted to do something pornographic, but couldn't figure out how - Melinda helped him come up with the idea of Wendy and they developed it together from there). How they couldn't have done it if they weren't a couple. How they collaborated together. Moore's views on the original authors [Carroll and Barrie as probable paedophiles] (only L. Frank Baum came out 'clean' - until Lee pointed out he was a member of the Ku Klux Klan [not sure about the KKK connection, I've since looked into it and been unable to find anything supporting Lee's claim - but Baum did once print his positive opinions about the killing of Native Americans]). I'm probably not doing it justice, actually! There was a LOT of stuff discussed, followed by questions from the audience, but it all pertained to Lost Girls.

I remember one person (a girl) asked if they were fans of Angela Carter(?) and the work she'd done trying to create, I presume, female-friendly, artistic pornography. Moore explained that they both were, and Melinda went on to discuss how she'd tried really hard to make her artwork beautiful and attractive for women, too. Moore added that they'd discovered that it took very little to please a male audience (big laugh), so they'd concentrated a lot on making Lost Girls work for women.

I got to meet Moore afterwards and he, as always, was extremely gracious, even if a complement I was trying to give him got misunderstood (I said that I'd noticed the blurb for Lost Girls begun "can pornography be art?", but after reading it it seemed to me that it was the other way around: Lost Girls was a real work of art... with pornography. He took no hesitation to point out that "well, of course it's art, we just wrote that stuff for the blurb..."). Obviously I knew that Moore would think it was a work of art, but he seemed to miss the complement I was trying to give him. Of course he'd been there for two hours at that point and the queue was still out of sight, so I suppose he just took my comment at face value, and as such my comment must have seemed silly to him.

I did get to explain one other observation to him (which he liked more), and that was how hard it must have been to create characters to fit in the genre of porn. That is, in thrillers, comedies, dramas, whatever, each character behaves in a certain way which is conducive to the events in that story, whether it is 'realistic' or not. (In a thriller it could be a quickly getting over a brutal murder in order to get revenge; in a comedy it could behaving in a way in order to create a ridiculous set-up, etc.) It's important that characters in stories don't impede the story by reacting too realistically to events, but also they must behave in a way that seems somewhat real to keep the story going. If you go too far in either direction the fictional 'reality' is ruined; too real and our characters stop the story. Too conducive in making the plot work and we stop believing in the characters and, as a result, we don't care about them any more.

What I've noticed in porn that tries to have a story (and I'm sure I'm not the only one), is that any attempts to create characters that can exist in a world where they could have sex with a complete stranger at the drop of a hat, is usually unbearably contrived, and as a result it becomes a joke.

Moore amazingly managed to create characters that somehow seemed 'real', so we care about them, but they could still exist in this universe where sex could happen at any time with no emotional strings attached. In a word: Wow!

He appreciated this complement a little more and said that it hadn't been easy! (Although I'm amazed I managed to get it all out and he follow what I was saying!)

I also queued to get my copy of Lost Girls signed by Melinda Gebbie, and she was, as usual, fabulous! So incredibly nice and friendly, such a lovely person! I was there with my girlfriend and Melinda asked her what she thought of Lost Girls, and said to me, "sorry, but I'm more interested in what she thought than you!", which was really funny. My girlfriend wasn't totally comfortable discussing it with other people around (understandably), but she told her that she liked it. (Afterwards my girlfriend kept looking for an opportune moment to talk to her a bit more privately, as it was obviously something Melinda was interested in and my girlfriend had things to say, but sadly it never came.)

After we'd got the signings done, I decided to say hello to Chris Staros from Top Shelf and ended up having a really nice conversation with him. I wasn't expecting it, but he was an extremely nice guy. Me, my girlfriend and I talked to him for quite a while. Afterwards, what with how unbelievably nice Alan Moore, Melinda Gebbie and now, Chris Staros where, my girlfriend was just like "I want to work with these people... they're all so nice!!", which was very true. It seemed like Alan Moore, Melinda and Top Shelf were a perfect match for each other, and just really really nice people.

I learned some interesting things about Top Shelf too, namely that it's entirely run by two guys: One in Portland and one in Atlanta! Amazing! They've been going for ten years and they've slowly over that time become bigger and bigger, but it's still just the two guys!

Anyways, that was a quick stream-of-conciousness review of the event. Sorry if it was a bit all over the place or didn't answer any question you were hoping I was going to. (Please ask!)

I didn't see any cameras, but it's possible the event's audio was being recorded. We can only hope that someone has a bootleg of it. [One has yet to appear, sadly.] It would be well worth a listen as the night was extremely enjoyable and informative.

----------------------

The excellent Lost Girls should be seeing a UK/European release on January 1st 2008.

Retro review: Red Dwarf - The individual novels

Occasionally my excitement for things that I used to love is reignited, and not so long ago I found my it lit up for the classic BBC TV sci-fi comedy show, Red Dwarf. It's always had a soft-spot in my heart (and undoubtedly will), and I decided to re-read the classic novels written by Rob Grand and Doug Naylor.

After seriously enjoying Infinity Welcomes Careful Drivers and Better Than Life (the first two books), I decided to give the subsequent solo novels another go and see how I felt about them; Doug Naylor's Last Human and Rob Grant's Backwards.

For those who are unaware, or may have forgotten, Doug Naylor and Rob Grant wrote the first two Red Dwarf novels together (under the pseudonym Grant Naylor), but after a split in their working relationship and an aborted attempt to write a third novel together, they separately wrote two completely unrelated sequels. Unlike their work together, which was well received, their individual efforts received mixed reviews, especially from fans.

Here were my immediate reactions after reading them again:

Backwards by Rob Grant

I've just finished re-reading Backwards and I have to say that I'd forgotten how completely brilliant it was. I'd forgotten just what a good, satisfying well-paced read it is. I was also surprised (and perhaps pleased) at how little was taken from the TV series. In all, there were four ideas taken from three episodes: Backwards (obviously), Dimension Jump (the idea of Ace Rimmer) and Gunmen of the Apocalypse (pretty much the whole show, including the idea of xenophobic battledroids hunting humans).

Only really Gunmen was referred to heavily (which was an odd choice considering how much of that show was based on visual humour), and even then almost all of the dialogue was different (unlike the first two novels which copied dialogue verbatim, more often than not, when taking things from the TV series). The other ideas taken from the series were expanded and changed considerably, even more so than the first two novels.

For whatever reason, it seemed as though Grant was trying very hard not to use too much from the series, and thankfully it's not to the book's detriment.

Despite feeling like a fairly large tome, the story runs at an incredibly comfortable pace. You really get the idea that Grant could have just happily kept on writing and writing and, interestingly, I don’t think the reader would have gotten bored, either. Maybe because of this, the ending does appear a tad rushed and/or abrupt (although this may just be an illusion caused by the spelling errors that even made their way into the final chapters of paperback edition).

Still, despite it’s size and apparently rushed ending, it’s a incredibly cohesive and satisfying read. I don’t think I really noticed the journey that Rimmer goes through when I first read it (no idea why, perhaps I was too young to pick up on it), but this time it was clear to me that he was the backbone of the whole story.

There was at least one missed opportunity by Grant, though: A scene where an uptight Rimmer and a reluctant Ace talk in private to try and figure out where their lives diverged would have been utterly priceless (and could have set up the epilogue nicely, too). Bizarrely this undoubtedly interesting conversation is replaced by the “wrap things up quickly” scene from the TV series (where Lister has sudden and amazing insider-information on where the change took place). Ah, well, in another universe, perhaps.

Rimmer's personality is reset to “bastard mode”, which doesn't fit continuity from the warmer person he changed into when Lister grew older in the second book. That said, it's no surprise, as Rimmer generally works better as a character when he's at his most antagonistic, and it felt like the right starting off point for the book.

(As an aside; is it just me, or is that chapter featuring a teenage Cat and a young nubile woman in a gingham dress just a little bit weird/creepy/disturbing/wrong? Why is it in there?)

In all it was a great read, much better than even I remembered or expected. I ordered a copy of Last Human to see if it could impress as well.
—————————-
Last Human by Doug Naylor

I made it 50 pages into Last Human, and I just couldn’t take any more… It’s very funny, don’t get me wrong, and there’s some brilliant lines, but it doesn't feel right. Reading it was like driving in a car in dire need of a mechanic; It looks OK and is driveable, but it keeps making such horrendous and unhealthy noises that you don't want go keep going.

For a start, Naylor clearly has no issue with messing with the entire Red Dwarf canon. Take for example, Rimmer's inferiority complex regarding his more successful brothers. Whereas Grant thoroughly explored these issues, and used them as the backbone to his entire story (turning them into something we could all relate to in process), Naylor says they're all down to the fact that Rimmer didn't get a memory implant when he was a boy. Not an inferiority complex as much as actually being inferior. Not only is the explanation completely unrelateable to the reader, but it's also completely illogical: Why doesn't he buy a memory implant now, as a grown man?

The fact that this character-changing line is tossed away in such an unemotional manner is unfortunately indicative of the care and thought seen elsewhere into the book. Another example is the amount of pseudo-science, that not only doesn’t hold up to even the tiniest bit of scrutiny, but also disregards everything we know about the Red Dwarf universe.

All over the place random scientific sounding bits and bobs that are tossed into the story and dialogue without explanation. All of a sudden even the Cat is an astrophysicist. Things like “unused time lines” (how can a parallel universe be considered "unused"? We can supposedly visit them, so do the people living in them consider their universe "unused"?) or the fact that Starbug has a “Hubble telescope” installed (I mean, come on) are just horrible.

I guess Doug would argue that it’s all about entertaining readers, and don't care about the science and technology (so long as it sounds ok), they just want a laugh, and while I can definitely agree that Last Human tries very hard to tickle your rib bones (and succeeds very often, too), I have to ask; if you're going to do the science-fiction without the science, why bother?

—————————

Reading both books gave me a very strong idea of who did what in the Red Dwarf universe. Doug Naylor was clearly the man with the funny one-liners but, unfortunately for his book, no grasp of characterisation and no exploration of ideas or concepts. Rob Grant’s book feels deeper and more satisfying, with the laughs tickling your brain more than your ribs, but it's also much heavier by comparison. The writers seem like two parts of the same brain.

When they merge they turn from two funny, talented guys into one hilarious, unique, sublime, gestalt entity. I hope they work together again at some point.

Grant Naylor, are you out there?

Review: Death Proof Extended and Unrated DVD

I've had this DVD since the 8th and have been attempting to review it (well, Death Proof) since then. I've now given up and am just posting what I write off the top of my head (apologies in advance).

Death Proof's review has proved elusive because of its long and complicated history, so let's get that out of the way first: For those who don't know, Quentin Tarantino's Death Proof was originally intended to be seen in the US, UK and some other countries, along with Robert Rodriguez's Planet Terror in a unique, retro double-bill called Grindhouse. Both of those two films were cut down to 90 minutes, they got some famous horror directors to put together some fake trailers for 70's exploitation style movies, and they packaged the whole thing as one long, crazy, experience.

The US audiences didn't like it, it flopped and major theatrical release of Grindhouse was pulled from other countries. As to why it flopped, nobody knows. Rodriguez claims it was because the TV advertising confused cinemagoers. Tarantino, more philosophically, thinks it's because people just didn't want to watch two films back-to-back in the cinema ("man, I've got shit to do today!"). Others have speculated that it was just too "out there" for audiences, being as it was, an homage to an obscure and unpopular niche (70's exploitation cinema).

I personally speculate that Tarantino's core audience Rodriguez's core audience don't necessarily crossover as much as people think, and prospect of having to sit through a film from a director you're not that bothered about just to watch a director you are that bothered about, wasn't an enticing one.


Whatever the reason, its pull from cinemas left UK and Australian audiences fuming. Instead of the full Grindhouse experience, however, both films are being released theatrically in their longer, director preferred cuts, separately.

This DVD includes the this longer cut, which was always going to be released on DVD the world over.

The first thing to say is that thankfully, the idea of Death Proof being an homage to guilty pleasures comes across immediately. Even outside of the Grindhouse experience, the retro opening titles, with all their bad cuts, scratches, dirt and deliberate jumps, get the message across clearly and leave you with a smile on your face.


The second thing to say is that yes, this longer cut, is the better of the two versions. The much talked about "missing reel" from the Grindhouse version has been, ahem, "found" and reinserted back into the film, creating this version's first compelling moment.

Aside from that though, most of the extra twentyodd minutes is additional dialogue, which, while not adding any new amazing scenes, does help flesh out the characters a little more (in an indirect way) and gives us some classic Tarantino dialogue, too. The second half almost suffers from too much conversation, but just as you're just about to get tired, the finale kicks in (no extra footage there, though).

This is the version that Tarantino always wanted to us to see, but he was happy to sacrifice his favourite moments in order to make Grindhouse work better as a whole, knowing that one day we'd all be watching this version.

Eagle-eyed viewers will notice one small edit (yes, a removal of a few lines!) and one different take, but in both cases they are improvements.

If you're not familiar with Grindhouse and are completely new to Death Proof, then let me begin as I would have if I hadn't had to explain all of the above. Tarantino's fifth film is (or at least starts as) a tongue-in-cheek attempt to capture the atmosphere of a low budget 70's slasher movie. It's got the innocent girls talking about boys, the lurking danger and the almost non-existent plot. Staying true to its origins, when the violence and action comes, there is no use of CGI. This is truly an old school treat.


That's not to say that Death Proof is flawed or too simple. It's actually a lot cleverer in its structure than you might realise and is hugely entertaining to boot, even if it owes a lot more to Psycho than it does to any forgotten slasher movies.

Kurt Russell is brilliant as the mysterious Stuntman Mike and its shocking to know that he wasn't the first choice for the role. This is a brilliant addition to Russell's rogue gallery of characters, along with Escape from New York's Snake Plissken and The Thing's MacReady.

"The Gals" (as they're referred to in the opening credits) are all great, too. Vanessa Ferlito, Rosario Dawson, Rose McGown and newcomer Zoe Bell shine in particularly. The cast as a whole work perfectly together, too, which given the large amount of ensemble conversations is extremely fortunate. The chemistry appears so good amongst the cast that you can't imagine they didn't have fun filming Death Proof.


You'll forgive me if I seem to be deliberately avoiding talking about the plot, it is, as I've said, so simplistic that frankly there's nothing to be gained by telling you about it. Just go and watch and enjoy if you're outside of the US or buy, watch and enjoy if you're in.

Audio/Visual
By now I'm sure you've come to expect, as I have, a pretty decent treatment for films on DVD, and thankfully Death Proof is no different. If anything I'd have to say that, apart from the obvious loss of detail, the picture quality is actually better than the brand new cinema print I watched last week. The blacks are nice and black, but the image isn't too dark (as it was in the cinema), creating good contrast with shadow detail. The colours are perfectly captured, and so are all the deliberate scratches, bits of dirt and other artefacts.

The same goes for the sound (although I have to say, listening to it full volume in the cinema was most impressive). The deep engine growls cry out for a system with decent bass and loud speakers. Like the plot structure, the audio is deceptively simple.


Extras
As with Kill Bill, it seems like extras are not really what this DVD release is about, despite having a second disc dedicated to them. On the first disc you get the International Trailer (gives everything away) and a Poster Gallery (especially uninspiring).

The second disc is made up of short featurettes, which do provide some sense of background for the film when viewed together. I'm not really sure what a feature length documentary or commentary could have provided for a film like Death Proof, unless it delved into its Grindhouse beginnings... which none of the included documentaries do, unfortunately.

Stunts on Wheels: The Legendary Drivers of Death Proof (20mins) - A short piece on the old school drivers they used for the car chase. Some of the things they did seem almost let down by the film itself (for example the "near miss" they talk about is not very impressive in the final film).


Introducing Zoe Bell (9 mins) - An interesting explanation as to why one of the actresses does some amazing stunts.

Kurt Russell as Stuntman Mike (10mins) - A short piece on how great Kurt Russell is as Stuntman Mike (he is, but ten minutes of this isn't totally necessary, but I guess any shorter and it would have felt equally pointless).

Finding Quentin's Gals (20mins) - Another short piece on how each of the women were cast by Tarantino.

"Baby It's You" sung by Mary Elizabeth Winstead (2mins) - A short outtake from the film showcasing Winstead's surprisingly good voice.

The Guys of Death Proof (8mins) - A smaller piece on how the guys were cast (did you know that Eli Roth was one of them?).

Quentin's Greatest Collaborator: Editor Sally Menke (5mins) - An extremely short piece were Tarantino thanks his editor, and some snippets which are the closest to outtakes/goofs as this DVD gets.

Double Dare trailer - A trailer for the documentary that shows Zoe Bell's story and one that possibly led to Tarantino casting her.


A lot of people are probably annoyed that there's no mention of Grindhouse nor any of the fake trailers which were originally shown between the two features. The reason for this is actually quite hopeful; Tarantino and Rodriquez see Grindhouse as a separate entity don't want to do it a disservice by just selling off its parts. As such, this DVD is about Death Proof, not Grindhouse.

They both love Grindhouse and want it to keep alive, and the only way to do that is to keep whatever unique elements it has, to itself. This means, thankfully, that Grindhouse will indeed keep floating around cinemas all over the world once its two halves have had their separate releases. Ultimately its life will probably be one closer to the low-budget 70's it pretends to emulate, appearing in lesser known cinemas for sporadic (hopefully late night) showings.

Final thoughts
If you're familiar with Grindhouse and liked it, you'll love this. If you're new to Death Proof (meaning you're probably reading from outside the US) go see it at the cinema first (it's great with a good crowd) and then come back and import this DVD.

It may not be Tarantino's greatest work, but it's his most playful, joyous and outright fun.

FILM: B+
AUDIO/VISUAL: A
EXTRAS: C

Recommended (for the film itself and presentation more than anything else).