The difficulty of comedy is under-rated. It’s not easy to make people laugh, especially as one person’s definition of “what is funny” is entirely different from another person’s; sometimes they even differ from their own’s, depending on what hour it is. Thus, to create a film which not only is universally declared “hilarious” when released, but still makes people fall of their couches in hysterics, that’s something to be damned proud of.
This is John Cleese’s favourite film of his own¹, and one can see why: it’s a simple, yet very funny, story of a theft in the same tradition of The League of Gentlemen, The Lavender Hill Mob, or that other heist film from Ealing Studios I don’t recall the name of right now. Drat.
A Fish Called Wanda (1988)
Anyway, this similarity isn’t too surprising, given that the film is mostly directed by Charles Crichton, the man responsible for directing The Lavender Hill Mob. I have described Mr. Crichton as having “mostly” directed the film because the studio was worried he wouldn’t be able to handle a comedy assignment, and asked Mr. Cleese to ‘keep an eye on things’²; demonstrating that studio people in positions of influence are frequently idiots and haven’t a clue about anything other than what they have watched in the last minute or three, most likely due to most of their brains have been burned away by cocaine.
But, I digress.
Cleese’s character, the barrister “Archie Leach” (the birth name of Cary Grant³), is possibly the simultaneously stupidest and highly educated individual you’ve ever encountered. Sadly, he’s possibly also the most realistic character you’ve ever seen in a film. That’s what makes not only his character, but all of them in the film work so very well. As absurd as they are, they’re all well within the bounds of reality. We see the events of the tale and the way the characters deal with those challenges causes us to think there, but for the Grace of God, go I. This doesn’t exactly prevent one from considering a life in crime, but it certainly makes for a damned funny movie.
The key to this – or any – type of comedy is best summed-up in a post by Christopher Fowler (which you can read RIGHTHERE), in which he details a conversation he recently had with the writers of the Tony Hancock’s material, Ray Galton and Alan Simpson. Hancock’s character (he only had the one, really) could never be mistaken for either a ‘success’ or a ‘bright spark’, and therein the comedy bursts forth, according to the writers. In describing the un-produced Hancock film The Day Off, Mr. Fowler says this:
It’s virtually plotless, sad and very funny indeed. In it, Hancock meets up with another bus driver, and argues about the pointlessness of saving and withdrawing the same amount each week with his bank. He tries to bully a man on a park bench into admitting he feels insignificant, and fails. He loses an argument about wasps and bees. He meets Charlotte, a girl who works in a dress shop, and pretends he’s an architect building a cathedral, while she pretends she’s a model. He forces her to have a dessert she doesn’t want because she needs to stay model-thin. Hancock gets found out just before a touching goodnight kiss, and the romance turns sour. The film ends as it begins, with Hancock going home alone as the weather-girl announces tomorrow will be a sunny day – for those with a day off.
… [Ray Galton and Alan Simpson] agree that the script’s downbeat ending is funnier because ‘failures are funny, successful people are not’.
Thus we can see this film, full of the incredible failures nearly from start to finish, as a classic English comedy in the same tradition as Hancock, Ealing, and so very many others… most of which I can’t remember the names of… Drat.
There’s a further connection to this film for Mr. Fowler: in addition to his award-winning novels, he’s also responsible for co-writing a piece of comedy on the DVD of A Fish Called Wanda with Mr. Cleese. Unfortunately I returned this to the library before I remembered that, and thus I cannot tell you either which bit of “extra material” it is, or how funny I thought it was. Drat.
A Fish Called Wanda (1988) Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Prominent Features Star Partners Limited Partnership
Directed by Charles Crichton and un-credited John Cleese
Writing credits written by John Cleese from a story by John Cleese and Charles Crichton
While it’s frequently mentioned at the bottom of my posts – the “Music” that’s playing during the writing of it, along with what book I’m reading currently and whatever vague mood seems to be lurking overhead at the time but un-connected to whatever the post was about – the aural quality of my world is pretty damned important to me. I attempt to fill it with things which will provides accompaniment to a task, augment the mood I’m in, or simply provide wonderful melodic background for whatever I’m engaged in. I like it, it seems to like me, and the subjective quality of its performance is important (for instance, I’ve taken to the lossless FLAC encoding system instead of the Musepack format previously used, because the former provides a fuller tonal range to my ear).
Cover of “Aja”, by The Darcys (Jan 242012, Arts & Crafts Productions A&C066)
This, clearly, makes me a prime candidate for the music of Steely Dan, seen by many to be the gear-heads’ musical favourite; mostly due to their multiple studio accomplishments (although I only know of them being really fanatical to high fidelity recording processes and insanely complicated guitar lines). When I want to hear a little something intelligent, jazzy, and exceedingly tasty in its musical accomplishment, I turn to ‘The Dan’ (or Brian Eno or Jeff Beck). Thus, when hearing that the Toronto independent rock group The Darcys were covering the entire Steely Dan album Aja, I was fascinated to hear what they had accomplished.
The problem that any musician doing a ‘cover’ of another group’s work faces is that it’s a song they love, and probably love everything about the original version. However, the reason they do their own version is to bring something new to it, or at least it ought to be the reason. If all they do is duplicate the original’s arrangement, then there’s no inducement to listen to the new recording instead of the original. While this hasn’t stopped classical musicians doing the 378th recording of Mozart’s 12th symphony, or countless other works, there’s a difference there as we haven’t a clue what the original performance sounded like, so there is no ‘definitive interpretation’ which is tied to the composer in the same way that Dark Side of the Moon or Abbey Road have one specific version in the collective awareness of the listening public.
The original version of Aja (pronounced like ‘Asia’, by the way) is considered by some to be the “best recorded pop album in the 1970s”, which is either rejected as being of “too much intelligent content to be considered ‘pop’ music” or else “given much of the material recorded in the 1970s sounds like it was taped in a public swimming pool using a tin can, it’s hardly a tough thing to be at the top of a chart for technical achievement, is it?” Whichever, it’s often used for testing samples and recording reproduction fidelity to demonstrate the tonal range of vinyl vs. CD vs. digital file formats of various codecs; mostly due to the fact that the various editions have stayed fairly true to the original masters and haven’t been screwed around with, unlike most of the other recordings of the period. Having it get the Grammy Award for “Best Engineered Non-Classical Recording (1978)” probably helps too.
Due to the above – plus the fact this is the group’s best-selling album, having reached #3 on the U.S. charts and #5 in the United Kingdom – everyone knows the material backwards. So why even take-on the task then? Well, according to an interview with one of the band members in conjunction with THISBLOGPOST for the CBC Radio3 show Appetite for Distraction, the idea was given voice because one of the band members was both drunk and tired of answering questions posed by someone in a bar that evening, so he said the band was about to record this in order to make the guy shut up and go away. Sadly, the pestering individual was a member of the Toronto music media, and the statement was published shortly thereafter. The band member claims he is no longer permitted to drink, for fear of him doing something equally insane to the rest of the group.
Cover of “Aja”, by Steely Dan (Sept 231977, ABC Records)
It’s not fair to do a track-for-track comparison of the original album to the new version, as the purposes for the creation of the two are so wildly different from each other. The original was made to give voice to the muse of Walter Becker and Donald Fagan, while the new one was made to pass the original album’s contents through the collective muse of The Darcys to see what would happen. Thus, the preference of one over another isn’t either just or even relevant. No doubt the eye-balls of the members of the Toronto group are filled with a non-stop stream of words by people who are quite happy to make it painfully clear that “the original is perfect”, “why would anyone commit such sacrilege”, or the always popular “this cover album sucks goats!”
I was originally made aware of this about 2/3 of the way through the tune “Peg” which was pre-released as part of the album’s promotion. In the middle of typing something frantically on the keyboard whilst listening to Radio3, the chorus rammed itself into my awareness, my head shot-up, and I thought is that song what I think it is? The answer, obviously, was yes. In a series of events – that culminated with [ahem] ‘a well connected radio personality’ sending me an Advance Copy CD – I’ve now had a chance to listen to the entire effort. Five times. In a row. Without listening to the original version once. Yet.
However, it’s nigh-on impossible to hear any of the tracks on this without hearing the original in one’s head.
Which brings us back to the original question, why would you attempt this in the first place? Again, I submit the purpose is to bring something new to the musical work, due to it being interpreted by a different person in a different age. I’m a big fan of re-interpretations of The Beatles, The Who, and for some reason I also have about 87,000 different recordings of the Cole Porter composition “Love for Sale”.
Ultimately, the new version of the album isn’t all that successful as something which stands on its own. I wouldn’t expect it to replace the original in my mind, as that’s something a cover version has only done for me with Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young’s version of Joni Mitchell’s “Woodstock” (the cover is far more in keeping with the event it records in its lyrics, for one thing). To create a version of any album which is superior to the original one is arguably impossible, but it ought to stand on its own in some fashion. This one doesn’t, no matter how hard I try to really, really like it.
A few tracks do make the cut, as they work but not entirely through their lengths. The title track handles the material fairly well, with echoes of the original here and there, but an entirely new feel to the whole of the song. Likewise, “Josie” works fairly well through most of its length for the same reason. “Deacon Blues” and “Home at Last”, however, just don’t work at all, sometimes to the point of being down-right ‘broken’. Not all songs are structured in a clear enough way to make it possible for re-interpretation, and especially not easily an entire album being re-interpreted by the same group in essentially the same style (although one exception to this is Luther Wright and the Wrongs’ version of The Wall as semi-blue-grass styled music, which is brilliant).
Cover of “The Royal Scam”, by Steely Dan (May 1976, ABC Records)
The cover image chosen by The Darcys [see image, way above, right] is odd, as it harkens far more to the cover of The Royal Scam [see image, right], which Steely Dan declared in the re-mastered edition of which as “the most hideous album cover of the seventies, bar none (excepting perhaps Can’t Buy a Thrill)”. As tough as it is to make an album your own, it’s probably tougher to make the cover art yours as well.
Now, props to the group for taking this task on in the first place! To learn to play any of these songs is incredibly tough, and to do this with all seven is fantastic. To add to that the challenge to, essentially, ‘un-learn them’ and then re-learn them afresh is a hell of a steep climb for anyone, never mind an independent band attempting to fulfill a drunken promise made by one of the members in a fit of frustration. What a staggering achievement this is!
But it needs to have more than that, frankly. The sparseness of the original in large areas are too often honoured seemingly for the reason that “that’s what Steely Dan did”, instead of honouring a new approach. There are little musical frills from the original throughout that ought to have avoided entirely in favour of the songs’ cores. As well as that, there are some vocal moments which are delivered by the lead singer which were originally echoes by the back-up vocalists and ought to have been avoided for the same reason or delivered in some new way by another singer during the new recording sessions.
Basically, it’s a great idea. If they had attempted to show off their instrument chops by duplicating it perfectly, that would have gotten a pretty good reaction for the work (although not on an artistic level). Instead, they went for the far tougher assignment of re-working the music with their own style, and that’s awesome. However, the end result isn’t something which seems to have gone far enough to create a new work per se. Thus, my ultimate reaction is “meh…”
If you want to listen to ‘old music’, then you risk not evolving into a better person; or at least ‘fresher’ one. Thus, if you want to play the old music, you must do so in an entirely new way, bringing the best of the old into direct contact with the new work
If you want to check out the music for yourself, then HEADHERE to download it for free. However, if you prefer a ‘hard copy’, I have the ‘Advance Copy’ CD in front of me, and will happily send it to someone who requests it (hit the “contact” link up there).
Mood: disappointed Music: Well… right now it’s Lisa Christiansen hosting CBC Radio3’s Appetite for Distraction Book: I’m sorry, I can’t actually tell you what I’m reading because it’s SUPASEKRIT right now.
While it’s not often you get two for the price of one, this wasn’t supposed to be the case with these films. You see, when the two of them were shot simultaneously, there was only supposed to be one film, as that’s all the actors’ contracts stated, and their pay was based upon that. Then, at some point either before, during, or after filming, a decision was made to split the story into two halves, these ‘halves’ typically called “movies” as they were released a year apart (or 18 months apart in the case of the UK). “Let’s not bother telling the actors, as they’re all busy doing other films now, and have enough to worry about already, the poor dears.” It was at this point, according to my dear friend John Llewellyn Probert (who told me that I should see these, as it was his favourite adaptation of the stories), “legal hilarity ensued”, with the result of the actors winning, albeit not receiving as much money as they would have if they were paid separately for both films. The result is that now producers must state in advance how many films are being shot as part of the contract wording, something which is referred to as “the Salkind Clause” in honour of the producing father-and-son team Alexander and Ilya Salkind named in the suit. I know of at least one actor’s contract for The Hobbit which has them contracted for three instalments, probably as a way of “covering all eventualities”, based solely on Peter Jackson’s habit of shooting films of incredible length and making them damned good as well.
The Three Musketeers (1973)
Well, that’s a lot of information to explain why there are two films, isn’t it? Do you need a lie down now? I might, actually. What about a glass of something, or some tea? Can I get you a sandwich perhaps? No? ‘Head straight to the films, please’, you say? Right then!
While I’ve read all of The Count of Monte Cristo, I admit that I’ve not read the source material of The Three Musketeers, or Twenty Years After, or even The Vicomte of Bragelonne: Ten Years Later (which I suspect wasn’t included in the plot of either of these films, although its details seem so similar to some of the first two stories’ it’s tough to tell, really).
These are daft, sillly, and damned fun. Everything you could want from a film about these characters is here: bawdy humour, oodles of swordplay, lovably ill-behaved heroes, and enthusiasm about everything good in life: rescuing people, serving your sworn ruler, romance, food, wine, love, and waving a rapier around as often as possible. If, during the films, you feel like shouting Huzzah! or similar terms, I think that’s just fine as well, if not outright recommended.
The title sequence for the first film is incredible, showing us a swordsman’s moves in a pseudo-stop-motion effect and electric blue colour, predating both The Matrix or Tron. While stylish and magnificent, the tone is far more apt to a film of an art-house than what we get. Both approaches are appropriate to the material, and both are very well done, it’s just a bit of a confusion to the viewer who is now expecting a “Great Work of Serious Art” rather than what they get: a “Great Work of Dedicated Romp”. Again, let me say that both the title sequence and the film are exceedingly good, it’s just they don’t quite match each other.
The Four Musketeers (1974)
The bodies of the two films – or, more appropriately, the “bawdies” of them – are filled to the rim with slapstick fun, much of which involves that wonderful symbolic use of “extra-long loaves of bread and bombs” as representing “phallus and testes” way they do so well. Swashbuckling fun for all! *
The cast is made-up of a “who’s who in early-’70s cinema’, with the evil Rochefort played to ever-so-oily perfection by Christopher Lee; M. Bonacieux, d’Artagnan’s landlord, is performed with energetic glee by Spike Milligan (and we see nothing of him in the second film, which is a damned shame), and his wife Constance de Bonancieux, the Queen’s Seamstress (but who also seems to be her confidant and adviser at times) by Raquel Welch; and the scheming Milady de Winter by an incredibly stunning Faye Dunaway. Rounding out the cast of other characters are a host of others literally too numerous to mention.
One who deserves special note by myself is Charlton Heston as incredibly refined and restrained Cardinal Richelieu, thus proving my point about his work being uncontrollable being ill-considered. Considering the complete lack of restraint by most of the cast when going over-the-top with slapstick a-plenty, it would have been easy for him to fall in line with the others (although I’m not sure how it would have been appropriate to his character, frankly). Thus, my earlier comment about his work being uniformly of the “lookit me! LOOKITME!” sort was obviously too hasty. While I doubt I’ll see much more of his œuvre, I’ll not be approaching it with the same expectation or resistance I might have before finally seeing these films.
There’s some frankly bad sound dubbing in these due to the “shoot pictures first, record audio later” approach to things, but it being the style of the time it’s not too bad in the circumstances. The first film doesn’t allow too much in the way of character development, but there’s an awful lot of characters to simply get introduced here, so there’s little time left to develop any of them as a result; this is left to the intricacies of the second film, which was known as “The Four Musketeers: Milady’s Revenge” in the USA, and variants of it in France, West Germany, Brazil, Italy, Greece, and in Hungary’s ‘long title’. It would seem that the Lady de Winter has a secret and is happy to take revenge upon a few others while she’s keeping the status of that secret. INTRIGUE!
The camera-work for this is uniformly good, if a tad uniformly wide but, given the amount of the sword-waving and running-about going-on inside the frame, it’s certainly justified. The stock used seems a tad grainy but, again, the requirements of detail in night and shadowed scenes, couple with the amount of running around needing some extra depth of field means little else is possible for use.
The story, had it been shoved into one film of about 2/3 the length of the two of these combined, would be too much detail to handle. director Richard Lester was wise to split them into two film, thus allowing the narrative to have sufficient elbow-room for the silliness and action that makes both of the films work so very well. He was, on the other hand, damned stupid on a contractual basis to have done it. Re-negotiating with the cast afterwards would have been not only have been intelligent a choice on a legal standpoint, it would have simply been the right thing to have done.
If you see these available for your viewing pleasure, rest assured it will be one.
Written from the novel by Alexandre Dumas père with a screenplay by George MacDonald Fraser
Trailer for The Three Musketeers (1973)
Trailer for The Four Musketeers (1974)
* NOTE: the author of this post is well aware of what a buckler actually is, and will not be making any jokes based on “buckling a swash”, as this would be wrong. More apt would be to “swash a buckler” which is, in fact, where “swash buckling” comes from. So belt-up. [ RETURN ]
Mood: blah Music: Yusef Lateef, The Man with the Big Front Yard (1967, Savoy Records) Book: Guy Adams, Torchwood: The Men Who Sold the World (BBC Digital Books, ISBN9781446417201)
Every once in a while, something arrives that is not only more interesting than you expected, but is also quite altogether different than you expected. That’s what happened with Alfred Hitchcock’s The Lady Vanishes for me.
It’s the last film he made in England before running off to Hollywood in order to not get caught in the War (although he must have been anticipating doing so, given the release date followed the production itself), and you can see great chunks of the work to come from him: seemingly slow-moving plots, careful examination of characters (often in trains), story-driven narrative with bits of dialogue that mix specific information as well as ‘slice of life’ elements of the moment, and then a bunch of action that stems from a plot that’s actually moved pretty quickly but you didn’t notice that originally. It’s all there, folks.
The Lady Vanishes (1938)
The first reel takes place in a hotel in the middle of a mountainous country of Europe, where – Goodness Gracious! Such a remote and wilderness place – news about what’s happening in England, and specifically the Cricket Tests, cannot be had with any reliability! There is talk of a war, but the Great Decision has not yet been made (but really, it’s the decision of the Bowler that really matters, wot?). There are a number of groups of characters we follow in this chunk of the story, and it’s probable that if it was made today the whole first third of the film would be hacked out because “it’s too confusing. Who’s the hero? What’s the problem that he’s going to solve? Who’s the dame he’s going to win? Who’s he going to have to kill? If it’s not there in the first twenty pages, you’ve lost everything.” Or, at least, so is the wisdom of William Goldman, the man who declared he’s right about everything.
The funny thing is, all of it is there in the first twenty pages or so, but it’s not presented in bullet-list form, nor exclusively so; there’s a whole bunch of extraneous stuff in there to distract you from the ‘essentials’ noted above. That’s what’s called “entertainment” and “colour”, folks. It’s supposed to be “fun” and something you can “enjoy for the sake of”. Remember that? Remember when we had that opportunity for more than the length of one ‘witty’ line about someone’s sexual prowess or reference to a sponsoring corporate product? Not that I’m pooh-poohing the newer films for the sake of that, I’m just acknowledging that things were different back in 1938, and everyone seems to do things the same these days, instead of using as many different styles of story-telling as are available. Nothing is “wrong”, it’s merely “different”, and we need more “different”. As it is, films are so frequently in such a head-long rush to get to the music-swelling ending that we’ve sacrificed the “getting to know you” bit of the stories, it’s refreshing to see one again and it reminds us that we shouldn’t rush to the ends of our lives either.
But back to this film.
Hopefully by the middle of the film you’ve given-up trying to work out where it’s headed in the end, because there’s a great deal to enjoy by simply letting it get there in its own time. This journey is wonderful in its own right as are its the stops along the way as we get to know people, the question of the tale to be answered, and then the matter of how to solve the problem by the end. As with life, it’s not the conclusion that matters, it’s how you get there and the direction in which it takes you that is more appreciable.
Spend some time with this one, and see just how good a smart mystery / thriller can be, and how it can be done with a mixture of people (as opposed to a bunch who are seemingly all equally good-looking and thin). It’s wonderful. You can even watch it for free by heading to THISPAGE on the Internet Movie Archive!
Written by Ethel Lina White (for her story “The Wheel Spins”), screenplay by Sidney Gilliat (credited as ‘Sidney Gilliatt”) and Frank Launder
I’ve been watching DVDs from the library for a number of reasons, mostly to do with a combination of “filling in the gaps in my ‘pop culture’ knowledge”, as well as a concerted effort to better understand story editing by both watching a film and then re-watching listening to people who have studied that particular movie for years in order to better appreciate the themes, plot construction, symbolism, and so on.
The process would be nothing without the secondary audio tracks. Sometimes it’s like having actually been through the film-making process with the people involved.
Mood: satisfied Music: Yusef Lateef & his Detroit All-Stars, Before Dawn (1957, PolyGram #557097) Book: Guy Adams, Torchwood: The Men Who Sold the World (BBC Digital Books, ISBN9781446417201)
The ‘Spy Thriller’ is a tricky thing. You can get it wrong a billion different ways, or you can duplicate a ‘Bond’ film (and be accused of plagiarizing), you can fill a movie with car-chases and shooting but ultimately bore people, or you can actually get it right. There’s little in-between the reaction “YES!!!” and an urging to take your smelly two hours of programming on a 75-foot long tour of the nearest 50-foot pier. Cold? Callous? Un-caring? Oh yeah; t’is the way of the secretive operative of a foreign government.
Gorky Park (1983)
Gorky Park could actually be called a ‘murder mystery’ really, but I’m going to call it a spy thriller because it involves the KGB, plus US citizens, plus a bunch of other things. Also, basically I’m going to call it a ‘Spy Thriller’ for reasons that involve revealing too much of the plot. Besides, I just plain feel like it! So there!
It’s odd in its casting: William Hurt plays a copy who’s equally able to run around and punch people, as he is to contemplate various contradictory and seemingly un-connected evidence. At this point he wasn’t known for anything other than a couple of things on Kojak of all things, as well some work in The Big Chill which only came out two months earlier in the cinemas. Meanwhile, Brian Dennehy plays a more sensitive and analytically-inclined guy than he had up to this point, mostly playing punching / shooting / cussin’ / whoring / neanderthals (or partial ones at the very least). Meanwhile, Alexei Sayle shows-up for the first time, and clearly impressed everyone, including me, because he’s always awesome (but what a waste it was with him in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade… however more on that one in a later post).
I’d really like to examine the plot and its twists and turns in all their surprising detail… but I can’t. Because of spoilers. Which is a shame.
Look, just watch the film. Even if you have seen it before, if it’s been longer than a decade since then, and especially if you saw it in all its dis-jointed glory as a television broadcast, I’m willing to guarantee you’ve forgotten at least one major detail near the end. No, don’t think about it right now, just watch the film and let it wash all over you.
The characters are fully realized, with all of them being complex in a way we’re un-used to typically in a spy thriller. Especially intriguing is the number of sides to the… oh, damn, here we go again. Crap.
It’s really good. Trust me.
[heavy sigh]
Sneakers (1992)
In order to avoid getting a “G-rating”, which was considered to be the surest way to be over-looked by ‘grown-ups’, oddly Sneakers ended up adding some swearing to an other-wide brilliant script. The result is seeing Sidney Poitier call someone a “mother fucker” and David Strathairn mention oral sex. Not their proudest moment, but you do what you have to in order to make things work in the marketing department.
This is much more of a ‘Thriller’ in the ‘Tech’ category, as we’re dealing with a computerized universal decoding / decryption MacGuffin that – unsurprisingly – everyone wants, but telling who actually is who is never something that’s easy. Asking for some ID is never reliable, even if people are co-operative. Those ‘secret guys’ seem to have this aversion to revealing stuff. Funny that.
The characters are less complex here than in the earlier film but, given the complexity of the action involved, it would be pretty difficult to cram that in there as well. They’re still more complicated than you’d expect in a thriller, though, and a fair number of their motivations and decisions are surprising when revealed. Hooray!
I wish Dan Ackroyd got more roles like this, though: “Mother” is a kinda nerdy conspiracy theorist who knows his way around wiring and complicated hardware the same way most people can handle a corkscrew*. “Mother” is ‘thinky’, and funny, and intriguing. He’s a really good actor, and an extremely good writer, and I like his work.
Mildly disturbing to some may be the fact that all of the technology in the film was available to the common man for reasonably low prices before the film came out. Viewed today it looks really tame. Having already read David Gurr’s An American Spy Story, satellite and electronic monitoring potentials were well-known to me when originally seeing this in the cinema, and that was back in the days before these here interweb-tubes.
Sneakers is more light-hearted than Gorky Park, but is just as satisfying over-all, owing to the calibre of the actors and the quality of the writing.
…and I can’t really say much more than that without giving something away again. Blast.
Writing credits written by Phil Alden Robinson and Lawrence Lasker&Walter F. Parkes
This year, I’ve been watching DVDs from the library for a number of reasons, mostly to do with a combination of “filling in the gaps in my ‘pop culture’ knowledge”, as well as a concerted effort to better understand story editing by both watching a film and then re-watching listening to people who have studied that particular movie for years in order to better appreciate the themes, plot construction, symbolism, and so on.
The process would be nothing without the secondary audio tracks. Sometimes it’s like having actually been through the film-making process with the people involved.
* No, I haven’t any idea what that means either. [ RETURN ]
Mood: apathetic Music:CBC Radio1’s On the Coast Book: Malcolm Gladwell’s Blink (The Power of Thinking Without Thinking) (Little Brown, ISBN9780316005043)
Ian Alexander Martin [IAM] is the Proprietor of Atomic Fez Publishing, as well as formerly being an actor and theatre director based in British Columbia, and also was Founding Editor and Publisher of the theatre magazine The Boards. [read more]
Ian Alexander Martin [
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