Hobo With A Shotgun – film review

Seemingly inspired more by the sincere splatter genre than the “in it for the money” Grindhouse exploitation industry, Hobo With A Shotgun builds on its original basic revenge-thriller fake trailer into something greater and quite unexpected.

As with the best of the splatter output Hobo With A Shotgun is a horror movie for people who don’t like scares, but instead enjoy the OTT thrills and chills of ridiculous amounts of fake blood and theatrical amputations. It’s not offensive, it’s just a live action cartoon for adults.

Amongst its many influences are to be found ingredients from Evil Dead 2, Braindead and Tokyo Gore Police liberally folded into the mix, as well as nods to classic anime, with The Plague duo being reminiscent of the apparently indestructible Gold and Silver team from Osamu Dezaki’s 1983 Golgo 13 adaptation.

If you’re wanting to look deeper into the film’s subtext then you could also see this as an unofficial prequel to Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner, with Rutger Hauer’s disillusioned replicant Roy Batty arriving at the Westworld-like twentieth century themed Hope Town where violence and corruption are acted out for the pleasure of the masses. It is here in Hope Town that Batty meets Priss for the first time, in the form of Molly Dunsworth’s hooker-with-a-heart-of-gold Abby.

But maybe that’s just me imagining things.

Director Jason Eisner manages to keep control of a visually off-the-rails production and does what the exploitation films he pays tribute to often fail to do: be not boring. Although he surely couldn’t have pulled off such a laudable feat without the touching, played-for-straight performances of Hauer and Dunsworth and an inventive crew of special effects artists.

My above theory that Hope Town is really a theme park for bloody entertainment is my only way to explain the one area where the film is slightly let down – which is in the performances of its villains who certainly don’t play it straight. I imagine that they too are replicants programmed to act like people in 2019 believe people acted like a few decades previously. At least I hope that’s the reason. This can also help to explain some of the heightened scenes of horror and rampant amorality that pass by the in-film general public without them doing much about it, in particular one involving a packed school bus and a flame thrower.

But whichever way you look at it Hobo With A Shotgun stands as a monument to harmless bad taste and Rutger Hauer’s undiminished status as both an A and B movie icon. He gives a tour-de-force performance that warms the heart as well as the adrenaline gland and I can only theorise that had he not been on board this would not have been as great as it is.

Jack The Giant Slayer – film review

It’s a dirty job to be mean about something that tries so hard, with barely a shred of cynicism, to be as good natured and entertaining as Jack The Giant Slayer, but I guess somebody has to do it.

Opening with a fairytale reading so similar to the Hellboy: The Golden Army prologue that it borders on plagiaristic, Jack The Giant Slayer accidentally sucks the joy out of a timeless kids fable by trying to infuse it with darker and more complex elements – elements it didn’t really need and elements you didn’t really want, so by the time you realise you’re being fed lumpy and unnecessary exposition you’ve probably already missed it.

Hands up anyone who remembers what they were told in the first ten minutes. No? Yeah, me neither.

Well, strangely enough, after this failed attempt to beef up the Jack and the Beanstalk mythology the film descends into fey medieval pantomime territory with all the style and sophistication of a  second rate BBC television miniseries. Tents? Check. Flags? Check. Chickens? Check. Fire breathing entertainer in a bustling market place? Check.

Yet while permitting such worryingly old-hat production design clichés director Bryan Singer also seems to be suffering from Peter Jackson Fever (a real medical condition in Hollywood), therefore most of the dialogue has had to be dubbed-over in the Additional Dialogue Recording (ADR) stage so as to suck the spontaneity out of all its performances and every shot that opens a new scene has to swoop in on a crane – preferably over a babbling brook or a conveniently placed piece of set dressing.

But beyond the slightly distracting nods to dear old P.J. a strong visual signature is noticeably lacking. Singer has never had the most consistent or striking visual style, in fact I’m doubtful I could pick one of his films out of a line-up, but you can usually tell that he tries hard to add some flare to proceedings, whether or not he succeeds.

Jack The Giant Slayer is an example of when he doesn’t.

As mentioned above the overall look of the film is pretty flat in a low-budget TV production sense, as are the special effects that even a video game developer might send back with detailed notes for improvement; but elsewhere the writing is beyond abysmal and not helped by the bad ADR work and the film’s two lifeless leads (Nicholas Hoult and Eleanor Tomlinson) who both look and sound as though they could do with a hot meal to boost their energy levels and pad out their walking-skeleton physiques.

Fear not, though, as aid comes in the form of the film’s supporting players, in particular Ewan McGreggor as a pompous knight who seems always on the verge of anachronistically shouting out “chocks away!”, Ian McShane who’s just great in everything and the far too marginalised for anybody’s liking chameleonic appearance of the wonderful Stanley Tucci.

But whether or not you can digest the stilted dialogue, the occasional wooden performance or the added plot mechanics you’ll still end up grooving along to the basic beats of the classic Jack and the Beanstalk fable with added gross-out humour and gratuity-free action sequences (the final castle siege is mercifully less Battle of the Pelennor Fields and more Diet Helms Deep).

So by failing in its intention to be weighty and edgier than its roots require Jack The Giant Slayer can’t help but be a simple and fun bit of fluff that only lets itself down with some excruciating dialogue, a wet pair of lovebirds and the lack of a strong creative vision.

Basically you won’t be bored, but you’ll want to plug your ears up about five times a scene.

Sherlock Holmes: A Game Of Shadows – film review

Although Guy Ritchie’s first Sherlock Holmes installment was wearyingly clichéd in its plotting the charismatic diversionary tactics of Robert Downey Jr in the title role; Philippe Rousselot’s lush cinematography; Sarah Greenwood’s immersive production design; and James Herbert’s snappy editing made it a fabulously enjoyable treat for the senses, if perhaps not for the brain.

A Game Of Shadows, however, is a vicious assault on the senses and has even less to offer the brain. Even worse is that it doesn’t even offer us the simple thrill of a troubled but dashing Sherlock Holmes solving a complex mystery in Victorian London. No. As for reasons beyond comprehension it turns into a dull and torturously bombastic euro-thriller – a James Bond in tweed, if you will.

Gone is the richly colourful photography; instead the whole look of the film is drowned in horribly muted blues and lifeless greys that render everything that happens unpleasant to look at. Even Hans Zimmer’s vibrantly traditional score from the first film has been replaced by the sort of overbearing musical onslaught we thought he’d left behind in the 90s.

So where did it all go wrong?

I’m not sure, but the move from 1.85:1 aspect ratio to 2.40:1 doesn’t help in providing visual continuity or the intimate humour from the first film. This one feels distant, detached and cold. Strange, really, considering the main visual creative team is the same.

So, adding to this step down in audio/visual quality some forgettable actors, characters, plot devices and action sequences things aren’t looking great at all for A Game Of Shadows.

But within the mess, somewhere, is a much better film. The midsection lost my attention so completely that by the end I neither knew nor cared what was happening (not because it was complicated but because it was boring), however the start and end were enjoyable and only served to make me lament what might have been. Could the midsection be trimmed down to its bare plot essentials? Could Hans Zimmer replace his score with something more in keeping with what he gave us in the first instalment? Could someone tweak the colour grading digitally to brighten the tone and give it the vibrancy of its predecessor?

If there’s a third instalment I sincerely hope the producers realise where they went wrong with A Game Of Shadows and pull the series back into a more fun, lean and colourful line.

This one simply gets it wrong.

Desperate Hours (1990) – film review

I haven’t seen this film since probably I was a teenager, but it’s amazing how much of it (certain shots and camera moves in particular) that I remember from back then in great detail. I was also quite nervous about coming back to it, mainly due to my concern that, being older and wiser now, I’d simply hate it.

How wrong I was.

I’m a little guilt-ridden for having never seen the 1955 William Wyler directed original and still cherishing what critics usually tend to dismiss and history, it seems, has done likewise; but as a fan of overwrought, over-the-top and over confident curiosities I can’t help but find this remake mesmerising.

After the disaster of Heaven’s Gate reminded the world why directors need to shoot the odd close-up, Michael Cimino had some work to do to regain the confidence of a film industry he almost single-handedly tore down. What emerged was Year of the Dragon, The Sicilian and Desperate Hours – three smaller scale films that condensed Cimino’s fondness for visual flair, epic scale and theatrical acting into enjoyable but sadly forgotten gems.

Even though I’ve got a sincere soft spot for this tale of a group of violent criminals on the run taking a bickering family hostage, I’d warn anyone approaching it for the first time to leave their sensible hats at the door, because it’s a film riddled with ham-fisted dialogue, unconvincing characters, bizarre coincidences and gaping plot holes that beggar belief, but in the same breath entertain mercilessly.

If you can find a reason why Mickey Rourke decides to hole-up in suburbia for the night instead of safely hiding under a bridge in the countryside somewhere, or why Lindsay Crouse is so wonderfully bolshy and bad tempered all throughout the film, or why the police back in 1990 had all the intelligence and subtlety of a piano falling down a flight of stairs then you’re much smarter than me.

But amidst the harmless stupidity, extreme violence and high suspense there are elegant and poignant pauses of peace and natural beauty shot with grace by cinematographer Douglas Milsome, moments that really set it apart from the rest. The thundering orchestral score by David Mansfield racks up the tension from start to finish but also knows when to back off to give the audience a breather. The editing by Christopher Rouse compliments Cimino’s direction admirably, cutting off all the fat and keeping this a lean piece of suspenseful cinema without a single unnecessary frame left on screen.

I’d recommend watching this as part of a triple bill along with Martin Scorcese’s Cape Fear remake and Paul Verhoeven’s Basic Instinct for a great night of shameless, ridiculous cinema that’ll make you lament for the lost art of using camera tracks instead of steadycams.

Best bit: Anthony Hopkins literally taking out the trash.

Sadly we’ve not had a film from Cimino since 1996’s The Sunchaser and I’ve got a terrible feeling we never will… but that won’t stop me from hoping.

Come on, Michael, pull one last masterpiece out of the bag!

Sheffield Pride 2013

Went to my first ever Pride event yesterday in Sheffield city centre. They’d had other ones previously but I don’t think ever in such an open location, which is probably why I’d not gone before (it didn’t seem very proud being tucked away in some dingy suburban park).

I went with gf and two lesbian friends (who are a couple) and we had a blast! It was waaaaaaay too hot but that just meant more lush topless lads for me to drool over… YAY!

There was a series of stalls in Barker’s Pool square from early on that got a lot of attention and they seemed to have a diverse range of things to check out (including the fountains which they’d adapted to spout pink water… very cool!). Later in the afternoon there was a parade from the square through the student/boutique laden Devonshire Quarter to the regularly used and popular Devonshire Green events space where there was live music for the rest of the evening.

We joined the parade and had the local and national news take pictures and video footage of us, so if you can see us on the BBC website let me know (I’m the fat one in a black baseball cap with a folded up white cane waving a rainbow flag).

We didn’t stay for the later music events (it was just too hot!!!!) which I sort of regret as I fancied a dance, but by that time I was on such a high that it didn’t seem to matter.

I really enjoyed showing my face and having a laugh with friends amongst such a lovely, colourful and diverse group of people. It really felt great being part of something special. It was nice that different types of families with children turned up and took part too as it made the whole thing feel more chilled out and wholesome.

Whether it did or not to other people, for me it really felt like a landmark event for the Sheffield LGBT community… and for me as a proud bisexual male!

The Star Wars Trilogy (radio series)

I was quite nervous in approaching this radio series (recorded in 1981, 1983 and 1996 respectively, with Return of the Jedi apparently taking so long to finally tape due to a financial dispute) as I was in fear of how the Americans handle and take seriously their radio dramas. I’ve been used to listening to fine dramatisations by the BBC recently, so this felt sure to be quite a novel experience for me.

Much to my relief all three series were directed by skilled British helmer John Madden (Mrs Brown, Shakespeare In Love) and so this adaptation stands out as a fine piece of radio broadcasting, successfully delivering exciting adventure and romance to the best of the medium’s ability much like its cinematic counterparts.

The production company was able to use John Williams’ original score (even parts that didn’t feature in the films) and Ben Burtt’s sound effects, thanks to a charitable Lucasfilm who apparently only charged a peppercorn licensing fee, therefore the quality of this adaptation is immediately given a fighting chance of satisfying the fans.

Whereas The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi are given more straightforward adaptations and never veer too far off course, A New Hope is expanded upon greatly, especially during its first third. We’re treated to the unseen events that led up to the classic opening shot in the film of the Star Destroyer chasing the Blockade Runner, including an explanation of Darth Vader’s line “You weren’t on any mercy mission, this time!” that we didn’t realise we needed and some very dramatic incidents on Alderaan. Return of the Jedi is improved upon slightly by moving the introduction of Darth Vader until after our heroes have finished on Tatooine. In the film there was an expectation to visually start on a certain beat with a Star Destroyer cruising through space, plus there was a story requirement to setup the routine of the Empire’s shuttle docking security procedure that ends up being an integral part of our heroes’ plans later on, but on radio the writers clearly made the decision to have a more honest beginning with a conclusion to the events that ended The Empire Strikes Back.

As a person who’s perhaps a little overly familiar with the film series (along with many people my age) these additional expanded scenes took me out of my comfort zone and forced me to concentrate and follow the storyline for the first time since, well, the day I first sat down to watch the original film trilogy, which was a real gift.

The other tricky thing with over familiarity with something like this is getting used to your favourite lines of dialogue either being changed, omitted or being said in a slightly different way to what you’re used to, sometimes even by the same actor. But you get used to that and, well, the originals are all still there (oh, wait… that is, if you’re lucky enough to have the pre-Special Edition versions) for stress relief.

Fortunately for us we get a very strong cast to guide us through the proceedings, on the whole. Mark Hamill, Anthony Daniels and Billy Dee Williams were good enough sports to turn up and go way beyond the call of duty in delivering sterling audio interpretations of their onscreen roles. Hamill, in particular, shows us that he’s far more comfortable as a voice actor than a movie star, with his magnificent work here serving as an indicator of a successful future career as a voice-over artist to come. I’d even go so far as to say that Hamill’s performance here is better than what we get on film, so kudos to him. Daniels is pitch perfect in reprising his role as C3PO and was generous enough to turn up thirteen years later to finish off what he’d started on A New Hope and The Empire Strikes Back (with Hamill being replaced by a perfectly acceptable Joshua Fardon and Billy Dee Williams passing on the baton to Arye Gross).

Of the non-film series regulars the best is, without a doubt, Ann Sachs as Princess Leia. Whilst she doesn’t quite have the same youthful spunkiness that made Carrie Fisher’s performance so immortal, Sachs manages to convey the character’s more passionate and politically charged sides; so whilst neither actress is better than the other, I’d say that they were both able to deliver equally successful but unique spins on the same character.

Brock Peters, who served quite a bit of time on Star Trek (including The Voyage Home and The Undiscovered Country), makes a very menacing Darth Vader, although he can never quite delve to the depths of James Earl Jones’ bass rumblings, but he does the best he can with his naturally lighter voice. You can’t be too critical, though, as how many people out there can impersonate James Earl Jones?

Bernard Behrens has the very difficult task of taking the reigns from Alec Guinness as Obi-Wan Kenobi and does an outstanding job. But, of course, one can only try to be as great as Guinness, and Behrens tries very hard indeed and brilliantly evokes the pool of strength and wisdom that Obi-Wan needed to be.

Now the voice I was most worried about was John Lithgow as Yoda. I love Lithgow, but I just couldn’t see where he’d take the character or even if he’d be able to do the voice at all. Thankfully I had nothing to fear as Lithgow is fantastic, in fact you can’t tell it’s him at all through his scenes in The Empire Strikes Back. It’s only during Yoda’s death scene in Return of the Jedi, where he’s having to balance a convincing imitation of Frank Oz with a realistic performance of someone coming to their end, that his Lithgow-isms finally reveal themselves.

And so we come to Perry King as Han Solo. Well. I’m going to be very generous and say that his Solo is perhaps more in keeping with the seedy gambling space smuggler that the character was designed to be, only without the dead-pan charisma and charm that Harrison Ford so effortlessly pumped into the role. King can only struggle to be a ghost of what might have been had Ford agreed to slum it on radio, but his delivery still becomes fun and entertaining once you get used to it and, like Sachs, provides a different take on a much beloved character… just nowhere near as successful. And that’s all I shall say on the matter.

Beyond the actual main body of the drama my only real complaint is that the closing credit sequences for each series seem to take forever, with bafflingly long pieces of Williams’ score playing long after the announcer has finished speaking. In fact, on Return of the Jedi in particular, they feel almost like half the runtime of the actual main drama. I don’t mind these credit sequences being left in, as those who were involved deserve recognition, but they could have at least trimmed them down a bit or stuck them on separate tracks so that the listener has the option to delete them from their playlist. But this is a fairly minor technical gripe.

So if you love Star Wars and want a different and expanded take on familiar events or how they’re delivered then I highly recommend investing in this fantastic boxset. Although, as an aside, I would say that if, like me, you buy radio dramas to listen to in bed at night to help you drift off to sleep then I wouldn’t recommend it solely for that purpose, as it’s far too exciting and stimulating to settle you down… you’ll be prancing around your bedroom fighting imaginary Stormtroopers instead of counting sheep!

Yes, it’s that good.

P.S. If you don’t giggle at the sound of Princess Leia’s bucking bronco showdown with Jabba The Hutt on the sail barge then you’re simply not human…. “JABBA-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A!”

Dune (1965 novel)

I don’t have enough fingers on both hands to count the amount of times I’ve tried reading Frank Herbert’s weighty 1965 ecological science fiction tome and not gotten past the first few chapters. I think the problem’s been my over familiarity and fondness for the David Lynch film adaptation which, whilst being frowned upon by many, is still in my top ten favourite films list after all these years.

So is the book startlingly different? Not really, which has been the biggest surprise for me. Would I recommend it to a friend? Probably not, it can be as clinical as a reference book without the factual hook to keep you riveted.

This is my second but first successful listen to the audiobook edition (after many paperback attempts), which mixes a straight reading with sporadic use of a supporting cast of character vocalisations (I’m guessing the extra actors only appear during the portions of the recording meant for the abridgement). I wisely opted for downloading the unabridged version onto my MP3 player rather than listening to the tapes, thereby forcing myself to concentrate in bed at night without the usual daytime distractions. I just couldn’t imagine myself ever getting through the print/e-book edition and I wanted to say that I’d read it, in whatever form, from cover to cover at least once before I died.

So, twenty years after my first try, it’s done.

One thing I really did like about Herbert’s writing style is how each chapter feels like the act of a stage play. They’re all very self contained and rounded at the edges. There aren’t great stretches of time passing or lengthy travelogues (these happen “off screen”, as it were); each chapter is set generally in one place and in one timeframe. The characters walk on, they talk/fight/think and they exeunt. It’s a very focused and direct way of delivering a narrative and might also be described as mimicking a string of short stories stitched together to create an anthology.

It’s worth arguing that history has mistakenly taken the main character of Dune to be Paul Atreides, however his mother, Jessica, shares just as much of the narrative, if not more, and her story is perhaps even more emotionally compelling than her son’s.

There have been complaints about the fact that the only homosexual character in the novel is the villain, but the book doesn’t imply that he’s bad because of his homosexuality. In fact there’s a matter-of-fact way in which his same-sex relations are discussed that is actually quite refreshing, although this may just be my interpretation. I sort of felt that if the bad guys can be cool about being gay then there’s hope for the good guys.

The book feels quite topically current, too, with it’s central story arc involving Caucasian capitalists attempting to ingratiate themselves and ultimately dominate/control a seemingly feral (but underestimated) desert dwelling race who have control over a politically powerful substance.

But beyond it’s space opera overtones it’s undertones are it’s strongest. This is a book about the brutal rites and rituals of a community surviving in a merciless environment and the perception of uninitiated outsiders that their violent but necessary customs are a form of madness.

Arrakis is said to train the faithful. Frank Herbert’s Dune, I think it’s safe to say, will train and reward the patient. Unlike it’s scorched and waterless titular planet the novel lacks warmth; and yet literately it can be as dangerously dry as it’s encompassing deserts.

I’m glad I finally got to the end though. I can see where people disagreed with the Lynch adaptation, but I can also appreciate why certain things were changed and compressed to make an entertaining mainstream movie. There’s only perceived fantasy in Dune the novel, whereas Dune the film takes it one step further to the mystical beyond.

The History of Titus Groan (2011 radio series)

I’d never heard of Mervyn Peake or of Gormenghast until William Gibson name-checked him on Twitter the other week as the closest thing he’d read to Tolkien. Being a curious sort I began doing some research and, after learning more, found it strange that a work of fantasy could involve none of the standard elements of the fantasy genre (monsters and magic and such). Peake’s Gormenghast novels are generally described as a “fantasy of manners” – a definition I couldn’t quite get my head around, so rather than starting on a book that I might not enjoy I looked into it’s numerous adaptations, in particular this very recent radio series from the good old chaps at the BBC.

In some ways I wish I hadn’t dug deeper. I wish I’d stayed clear where the world was much lighter.

But not in all ways.

This is a very disturbing and unsettling piece. If it’s faithful to the books then I’d say that Peake’s work is more Dickens than Tolkien, and not really fantasy at all. It's a turbulent cauldron of intentionally disorientating anachronisms; a jumble of time and space where nothing and nowhere is quite what or where it seems.

It’s a descent and an ascent into and out of madness.

It’s also bloody hard work, I know that for sure.

This six part dramatisation addresses the three completed novels of Peake’s planned ongoing series (that abruptly ended with some rough notes for a fourth and fifth novel scribbled almost indecipherably by Peake on his death bed) with two episodes for each book. It definitely feels like it’s aiming to capture the period drama fetishists with it’s bouncing score and inexplicable focus on inconsequential subplots involving social gatherings. But aside from this occasional (and perhaps understandable) pandering to the mainstream it’s a very unique, absorbing and compulsive listen.

The cast is very strong (with a few familiar voices here and there), although if you’re new to the Gormenghast universe like I am then it may take a while to fix on who exactly is who. It’s also narratively very loose, so concentration is required, especially with the florid narration and dialogue.

The main enjoyment I got out of this was a masochistic one. I often gleefully wondered just how much of it I could take. It’s an inky black experience that always threatens to plummet deeper into tragedy and despair without hope of a cheery reprise. It’s a roll call of one vile, deceitful, morally bankrupt character after another, all of whom leave you wondering who’s going to betray who next.

It’s an uncomfortable listen, but after finishing each episode in bed at night my mind was racing and I couldn’t get to sleep. I wanted to turn away from it’s gothic gloom but somehow I remained riveted just to see what happened next. It’s punishing but compelling.

Perhaps an apt summation of it’s tone would be to say that if it were made into a film it would most likely fall into the hands of Terry Gilliam (although secretly I'd like to see David Lynch give it a Dune-style retelling). It’s very Brazil in places.

Plus one hint/warning as to how dark the story gets is that David Warner features as the narrator (alongside the lovely Luke Treadaway).

Oh, David, so many people die in such weird and horrible ways when you’re involved (Straw Dogs, The Omen, Cross of Iron, Time After Time, Time Bandits, Tron, Star Trek VI, Titanic), don’t they? Bless.

I’m not sure whether this radio series has made me want to read Peake’s original books or not. I’m certainly curious to learn more about the Gormenghast traditions and rituals which this adaptation strangely leaves unaddressed (but makes it the central motivator for the titular character’s actions in the later episodes). But if it is as disturbing and traumatic as this radio series then I’m not sure that I want to invest that much time in it.

We shall see.

I’m certainly half tempted to try out the television adaptation which was made back in 2000.

The Lord of the Rings (1981 radio series)

This radio adaptation is certainly more faithful to the finer narrative details of Tolkien’s novels than Peter Jackson and Ralph Bakshi’s film versions, however it’s still not as exhaustingly comprehensive as some fans (including myself) would perhaps like to see or hear. During The Fellowship of the Ring it mercifully leaves out the hobbits’ strange encounter with Tom Bombadil (like most adaptations, although there’s an American radio version I’ve not heard that apparently takes the hobbits through The Old Forest), but it at least gives us more of what goes on at Bree and The Prancing Pony. I’d still like to hear or see a version that includes the Barrow Wights though, which is a very disturbing episode in the books.

The series bravely kicks off (after a quick prologue) with the very graphic torture of Gollum, which is made all the more upsetting by Peter Woodthorpe’s excellent and vivid performance, reprising his stand-out role (along with Michael Graham Cox as Boromir) from the Bakshi animated film.

Surprisingly and rather unfortunately the voice cast is often the least impressive part of this adaptation, although it’s not enough of a destructive influence to cause any permanent damage as there are still some very strong performances. I assumed that Ian Holm would be perfect as Frodo (after seeing him so memorably play Bilbo) but it wasn’t until I listened to this that I realised how reliant on the visual medium of film his acting style was. He has great movements and facial cues on screen, but these are obviously lost on radio and his performance often sounds jumpy and uneven. He also creates too much of a void between the moods he conveys. There’s no middle ground. He’s either being soft and poetic or screaming like a lunatic.

Sadly Frodo isn’t the only main character subject to a poor piece of casting. Listening to Robert Stevens as Aragorn is often a baffling and excruciating experience. Aragorn is meant to be mysterious and charismatic, but Stevens hams it up to such an extent that you can’t help but chuckle or cringe at his fey, wet-mouthed delivery. His timing isn’t all that great either and sometimes you can tell that he’s rushing his lines because he doesn’t understand the script or the character, which is a shame.

Bilbo here is played by the lovely John Le Mesurier, who is perhaps a little too laid back for the highly-strung, excitable hobbit. It makes sense that by this point in the story Bilbo would feel weary due to the weight and power of The Ring, but he often seems to share Stevens’ lack of enthusiasm.

Oh and I found the narrator Gerard Murphy a bit irritating too.

Okay, complaints over.

Although a certain amount of damage is already done by the casting of these key roles, the rest of the ensemble is magnificent and surely owed a great deal of praise. Michael Hordern was undoubtedly the inspiration for Ian McKellen’s Gandalf; a gruff but warm and loving wizard far more interested in people and relationships than magic and adventure. Bill Nighy seems to conserve his energy as Sam during the first third of the story before really cranking it up for The Two Towers and The Return of the King. Peter Howell and Andrew Seear are both hypnotic as Saruman and Faramir, respectively; they share a softly spoken intensity that is both riveting and frightening. My favourite voice on “display” though has got to be John McAndrew as Pippin, who’s voice I’ve just totally fallen in love with. He, along with Seear, has an effortlessly honest and natural quality to his acting, which is a great talent, but there’s also something more innocently seductive about McAndrew’s voice which I find very appealing.

But enough about my perversions.

A clever device the producers have come up with to summon the spirit of the epic battle scenes sprinkled throughout the second and third acts is to use operatic musical pieces instead of relying solely on atmospheric sound effects. It gives such raucous moments a more lyrical and poetic interpretation instead of just barraging the listener with a cacophony of sword clangs and arrow swishes. In fact music is a great weapon in the productions’ armoury and manages to go from being beautiful (the sweet violin sighs during the scenes of the hobbits travelling out of The Shire) to spine-tingling (the sharp and shivering notes during the trek through The Dead Marshes). It’s an integral and memorable component.

So apart from a few iffy acting choices this is really worth a listen. It certainly brings up the darker parts of the story and provides the odd genuine jump here and there. It also strikes a good balance between the lengthy original books and the fast-paced film adaptations.

The Hobbit (1968 radio series)

Oh I adore this adaptation.

If you ever want somewhere cosy and warm to hide then I recommend buying this, sticking it on your MP3 player as one long album, closing your eyes and disappearing off into a loving audio re-creation of Middle-earth for a few hours.

Paul Daneman is absolutely definitive for me now as Bilbo Baggins. He gives such a delightful reading as the reluctant hobbit thrown into adventures he’s not at all prepared for. He impatiently shares narration duties with the actual narrator, which is a brilliant device and helps create a more casual and fun tone to the piece. He’s arrogant but jovial; pompous but naïve. If I had only one wish then it’d be that the vocal characterisation had been tweaked just a little bit as he went along to show that Bilbo was growing up and becoming wiser, as the more serious political and emotional moments towards the end sound a little insincere.

Heron Carvic (cracking name!) as Gandalf isn’t as warm and grandpa-like as the William Squire, Michael Hordern and Ian McKellen Gandalfs, in fact it’d be quite fair to describe him as a slightly bad tempered Alec Guinness. But it’s not a nasty characterization, not by a long shot, as there’s a wonderful knowingness and sparkle to Carvic’s portrayal that’s very pleasing indeed. He’s stern and authoritative but humorous with it, so he’s never too mean or intimidating. Gandalf’s such a contradiction at times, I can imagine he must be quite a challenge to play.

The biggest surprise I encountered with  this version was that the cast seem to really love acting it all out and aren’t treating it like “a silly children’s story” at all, which a lot of people tend to scold The Hobbit for being. It feels more like a fan reading than a group of hired talent unfamiliar with the source material. I think that’s why I love this so much.

The production is also very absorbing. You really get the sense that you’re bouncing around from open field to mountainside and down into caves and out again into the talons of giant eagles. It’s really gotten me interested in the craft of radio play production.

The eclectic music is brilliantly other-worldly, even though it’s roots are clearly to be found in Celtic/folk rhythms. The dwarves’ Misty Mountain song is an oddball mix of counter-melodic instrumentation and deep, rumbling, baritone singing whilst the Goblin chants are percussive and full of sinister minor chords. It’s all very unique but somehow very familiar.

I read Tolkien’s original The Hobbit during my lunchtime breaks working as a debt recovery clerk for the local water board in 2001 and as such was left with a slightly negative memory of it (it was hard concentrating over the sound of Neighbours playing in the background on the cafeteria television), so listening to this radio version has helped restore my faith in it and wash away those unwanted associations. It also prepped me for the release of the new Peter Jackson film adaptation.

Has anybody else caught this version? What did you think?

The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy (radio series)

My first experience of THGTTG was the book omnibus (at that stage only a trilogy in four parts) which I found very funny and a great ode to the wonder and infinite possibilities of science fiction. I actually assumed that the books were where it all started so I was most surprised recently (when I was bought the whole collection on disc) to find that it actually all started here, or there, on radio.

Listening to it for the first time I was amused to find Arthur Dent being played by the guy who plays Sir Walter Raleigh (“Oh, Sir Walter, really!”) in Blackadder which took some getting used to (I kept imagining him in stockings rather than a dressing gown) but Geoffrey McGivern as Ford Prefect (I thought it was Ford Perfect for years, even thought it was there in black and white) has a very cute voice, which keeps me going.

I think the one thing I’ve found disappointing is how very “Radio 4” (now an adjective in it’s own right) and pleased with itself it sometimes sounds. When I originally read the book it felt like Douglas Adams had a genuine love and interest in sci-fi whereas the Radio 4 production team’s take on his play feels like a piss-take of sci-fi and almost mocking in tone. It just sounds like a lot of posh people stood around with Martini’s guffawing about how silly sci-fi fans are.

Then again, that was the sound of the BBC back then and it’s only fairly recently that there’s been a little more regional diversity injected into the Beeb’s “voice”.

Niggles aside, the stream of consciousness humour and core themes of probability and the meaning of life, the universe and everything punch through the slight air of snobbery to keep me going as I listen in bed at night. I’m on series two at the moment (where Arthur and Ford have become almost supporting characters to Zaphod) so let’s see how I get on.

I’ve still yet to watch the television series (with a similar cast, I believe) although I’ve seen bits of the film starring Bilbo Baggins, so I think I’ll get both on DVD to compare/contrast/pontificate.

Bottle Rocket - film review

A fun and quirky feature debut by Wes Anderson (fun and quirky being his middle names) that feels more like a low budget training ground for a fledgling artist than a great cinematic accomplishment.

Taken into period context this must have seemed like just another mid-90s low-life/gangster/caper black comedy (which were all the rage at the time) but out of context it’s a rather heart warming tale of two nobodies trying hard to do nothing in particular and getting nowhere.

The early signs of Anderson’s technical trademarks are all in place (the whip-pans, the POV shots, the bird-like physical movements) as are his thematic ones (emotional turmoil, unrequited love, spiritual boredom), but it’s dramatic rough edges, comedic misfires and dismal location cinematography reminds us that Anderson’s best work was yet to come.

Sparsely engaging but still above it’s peers.

3/5