strange and random happenstance

Lengthening shadows, the feeling of being watched, shots from Creature from the Black Lagoon stalking it's prey, a beautiful young swimmer who doesn't know the danger lurking right beneath the surface. No one can say this adaptation of Michelle McNamara's book on the Golden State Killer lacks style. Yet for me it wasn't just the style, it was the substance that kept me turning in week after week. It delved deeper than the book into the subject of being a woman and being a survivor and that made the documentary even more relevant today. A more human approach. Hearing the stories from the survivors intercut with stock footage from the time period and the hunt for the rapist in the 70s and 80s somehow made the era come alive, it grounded everything and made it more real. What's more there's a frank discussion about what it's like to be a woman, the whole idea that women are told to dress and behave a certain way to not become victims instead of teaching men to not attack women. The sheer number of rapists working in one area of California at that time shows the pervasiveness of sexual assault against women and the danger we constantly feel and I felt seen and heard tuning in every week. In fact it got me wondering, would the East Area Rapist, despite his reign of terror, ever have become the boogie man of suburban California with the longevity to be relevant today if he hadn't escalated to couples and then killing? Would he have been forgotten as just another rapacious rapist that was just gone in the dark? Who knows. But Michelle's personal drive, her personal journey was just as important as the other survivors, because in the end she became EARONS last victim.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: 70s, 80s, And the Emmy Goes To, Creature from the Black Lagoon, Documentary, EARONS, East Area Rapist, Golden State Killer, I'll Be Gone in the Dark, Michelle McNamara, Murder, Original Night Stalker, Rape

Wylding Hall by Elizabeth Hand
Published by: Open Road Media Sci-Fi and Fantasy
Publication Date: July 14th, 2015
Format: Kindle, 148 Pages
Rating: ★★★★
To Buy

Julian Blake was a temperamental genius. His manager knew that if Julian stayed in his bedsit in London all summer he'd get no work done and mourn the death of his girlfriend Arianna who committed suicide. So Wylding Hall was let. Julian's British acid-folk band Windhollow Faire would secret themselves in the country for the month of August to work and reconnect. It was a summer that would produce an album named after the grand estate they stayed at that would be under everybody's Christmas Tree that December but would also lead to the disappearance of Julian Blake. A disappearance linked to a white haired girl who mysteriously appeared on the cover of the album whom no one remembered seeing. But then a lot of mysterious things happened that summer. Weird hallways and chambers that went on forever. A library that only two people ever found. A room with hundreds and hundreds of dead birds. A tune in the air that Julian couldn't help humming. And the walks in the woods that the locals warned them never to take. Yet the band and the other people who came in and out of their lives back in that summer in the seventies never compared notes, until now. Now there's a documentary being done about the album, inspired by construction that has unearthed discoveries at the house, and secrets are being revealed. The shape of things is starting to come into focus, but it doesn't seem possible. In the end it comes down to a photo in the local pub, a song Julian unearthed, and a half-naked girl with feathers on her feet.

Sometimes there's a confluence of events that come together just right that elevates an experience to another level. This occurrence started at a joint birthday party where fate decided the next book club selection would be Wylding Hall and ended in an extremely rare consensus that we all liked the book while we dunked fruit into delectable chocolate. But we all agreed, it wasn't just the book, it was something in the air. It's almost as if we were haunted and the book manifested itself for our entertainment. The waning days of summer had set in, mirroring the time frame of the events that happened to the members of Windhollow Faire as August drew to a close and their lease on the hall was up. Despite reality versus fiction and the present versus the past there was this connection that made the book almost real. It's such a short read, a mere 148 pages, and yet I just wanted their summer to be endless and for me to be able to live in this spooky yet somehow homey world. What aided the book so well was the suspension of disbelief was possible through Elizabeth Hand grounding the book in the real world. If she hadn't got the music scene of the time just right nothing else could have fallen into place, and yet she did it. Making this story of the real world yet somehow not quite of it, like the characters had walked through a fairy ring and everything was just slightly distorted. Like when Sergeant Howie ventures to Summerisle in The Wicker Man, the townspeople seem a little off, a little unwilling to talk, and pictures that might illuminate events are quickly hidden away. The balance between believability and the unknown is perfectly struck here.

Yet the way Elizabeth Hand chose to tell the story was an interesting one, yet it did present problems. She goes the route of many a documentary with each of the characters telling their part of the story, therefore capturing that feeling of reality, we've all seen this before. We could be watching a VH1 Behind the Music special about Windhollow Faire after all. Yet given the brevity of the book I had issues with the dramatis personae, it took awhile for their character traits to come through and in the interim I was lost. They were written too similarly and what was odd in my mind, there wasn't a hint of unreliability and their stories all synced up. Maybe I'm just too used to unreliable narrators and Agatha Christie trying to pull one over on me. There was just a sameness to them as Elizabeth Hand quickly cut from one POV to another. It took me quite awhile to realize that Lesley was a female, and seriously, can authors NOT use two too similarly named characters, like Jonathan and Julian? I'm not proud of this but I totally stereotyped the characters to remember who they were, the folklorist, the girlfriend, the dead guy, you get my drift... and not all of them were flattering monikers, just something so I could quickly tell who was who. A really good writer is able to distinguish the different characters enough with their voices that this shortcut of mine wouldn't be a necessity. I felt like it lowered the book. But you could argue that Elizabeth Hand wanted to sew confusion from the start. That she wanted her readers to not get a firm grip on anything. If that was the case? Good on her! See, I'm totally willing to see the other side of things because books are fluid, what the writer intended and what the reader gets could be different, but that doesn't mean both aren't true at the same time.

Though what enchanted me most was the era. Ghost stories just seem to work better when set in a time before technology ran rampant. But I've come to realize that for a ghost story or supernatural spookfest to really catch me there has to be something I connect to. More and more this isn't character driven Victorian stories but more modern pieces set in the not-too-distant past. Like the 70s and 80s. There's a reason why The Conjuring series is doing so well and has so many spinoffs and why so many people have embraced Stranger Things. These are eras that have a distinct look and feel, a time when to get a hold of your friends you had to hope they got your message left with a family member on the one phone in their house or you'd just show up and pray their parents knew where they were. A time when plans couldn't be easily changed. A time when I was innocent and to see that innocence turn malevolent, there's something supercharged about that. Here it's the 70s, and it's perfect. Not just for the distant haze that memory has given me about the decade in which I was born, but because of this insidious supernatural phenomena creeping around the familiar. We have the isolated house, one lone phone, and this kind of golden haze and heat hanging over the events. Therefore when there are clouds or cold, you know something is going to go wrong. There's strange things happening in the house, it's rambling and easy to get lost in. A library that almost no one has found. Yet all of it could be explained away. Everything could be just too much indulgence, until there's proof that this isn't the case. Proof that comes almost at the very end.

Yet that ending is really abrupt. The whole book is kind of a summer idyll interspersed with supernatural phenomena. There's a laziness to it, not in that it's badly written, but in the luxurious pacing. You just want to inhabit the story but then they leave the house, put out the album, and then this interview happens years later... and as for Julian's fate... well, we aren't given anything concrete, we aren't given anything really. That throwaway line about one of the band members maybe seeing him years later doesn't count in my mind. I became invested in these characters lives and I didn't just want the story about THAT summer and their one "hit" album, I wanted to know what came after. How did Lesley become a star? How did Nancy, the girlfriend, end up a professional psychic in Florida? But more importantly, these interviews are all happening not just because of some anniversary for an album that achieved cult status but because there is work being done at the house. Work that uncovers artifacts of archaeological as well as personal interest to our characters. There seems to be a momentum throughout the book that they will all reunite and return to Wylding Hall and yet that never happens. It felt as though right when Elizabeth Hand was about to bring all the different threads together she decided instead she'd finished and just cut the work off prematurely. This is a three-quarters finished story. There is no final act. And THIS was the only bone of contention me and my fellow book clubbers had. Where is the resolution? Where is the final chord?

Because if we are to compare this to a song, they all have a beginning, a middle, and an end. All stories do too. But this one apparently won't. Yes, I have to accept this. I have to concentrate on that which worked so well. What I'm talking about is the purpose of fables and myths and epic songs, all that which goes into folk music. All these tales were told not because they were used as entertainment, but to impart warnings. "These are songs that have been around for hundreds, maybe thousands of years. They existed for centuries before any kind of recording was possible, even before people could write, for god's sake! So the only way those songs lived and got passed on was by singers." These songs were things that needed to be remembered. Things that needed to be known so that danger wasn't stumbled into blindly. While the Brothers Grimm might have gone a little too far with the moralizing, all tales that are passed down are done so with intent. There's a reason the locals get their backs up when these musicians come in asking about what shouldn't be talked of. Though logically IF the locals wanted them to behave perhaps some truth about the village and it's local legends could have warned them off. But that's not the purpose of villagers in these stories, their purpose is to see the strangers blithely walking into danger and keep their mouths shut. The danger that lies in the woods and lures Julian away with the fairies. It's this root of what folk music and folklore is that grounds the entire book in the human experience of tradition. So while it may falter, it still resonates.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: 70s, Agatha Christie, Behind the Music, Brothers Grimm, Elizabeth Hand, Folk, Going Gothic, Gothic, POV, Resolution, Stranger Things, Summerisle, The Conjuring, The Wicker Man, Windhollow Faire, Wylding Hall

Wylding Hall by Elizabeth Hand
Published by: Open Road Media Sci-Fi and Fantasy
Publication Date: July 14th, 2015
Format: Kindle, 148 Pages
Rating: ★★★★
To Buy

Julian Blake was a temperamental genius. His manager knew that if Julian stayed in his bedsit in London all summer he'd get no work done and mourn the death of his girlfriend Arianna who committed suicide. So Wylding Hall was let. Julian's British acid-folk band Windhollow Faire would secret themselves in the country for the month of August to work and reconnect. It was a summer that would produce an album named after the grand estate they stayed at that would be under everybody's Christmas Tree that December but would also lead to the disappearance of Julian Blake. A disappearance linked to a white haired girl who mysteriously appeared on the cover of the album whom no one remembered seeing. But then a lot of mysterious things happened that summer. Weird hallways and chambers that went on forever. A library that only two people ever found. A room with hundreds and hundreds of dead birds. A tune in the air that Julian couldn't help humming. And the walks in the woods that the locals warned them never to take. Yet the band and the other people who came in and out of their lives back in that summer in the seventies never compared notes, until now. Now there's a documentary being done about the album, inspired by construction that has unearthed discoveries at the house, and secrets are being revealed. The shape of things is starting to come into focus, but it doesn't seem possible. In the end it comes down to a photo in the local pub, a song Julian unearthed, and a half-naked girl with feathers on her feet.

Sometimes there's a confluence of events that come together just right that elevates an experience to another level. This occurrence started at a joint birthday party where fate decided the next book club selection would be Wylding Hall and ended in an extremely rare consensus that we all liked the book while we dunked fruit into delectable chocolate. But we all agreed, it wasn't just the book, it was something in the air. It's almost as if we were haunted and the book manifested itself for our entertainment. The waning days of summer had set in, mirroring the time frame of the events that happened to the members of Windhollow Faire as August drew to a close and their lease on the hall was up. Despite reality versus fiction and the present versus the past there was this connection that made the book almost real. It's such a short read, a mere 148 pages, and yet I just wanted their summer to be endless and for me to be able to live in this spooky yet somehow homey world. What aided the book so well was the suspension of disbelief was possible through Elizabeth Hand grounding the book in the real world. If she hadn't got the music scene of the time just right nothing else could have fallen into place, and yet she did it. Making this story of the real world yet somehow not quite of it, like the characters had walked through a fairy ring and everything was just slightly distorted. Like when Sergeant Howie ventures to Summerisle in The Wicker Man, the townspeople seem a little off, a little unwilling to talk, and pictures that might illuminate events are quickly hidden away. The balance between believability and the unknown is perfectly struck here.

Yet the way Elizabeth Hand chose to tell the story was an interesting one, yet it did present problems. She goes the route of many a documentary with each of the characters telling their part of the story, therefore capturing that feeling of reality, we've all seen this before. We could be watching a VH1 Behind the Music special about Windhollow Faire after all. Yet given the brevity of the book I had issues with the dramatis personae, it took awhile for their character traits to come through and in the interim I was lost. They were written too similarly and what was odd in my mind, there wasn't a hint of unreliability and their stories all synced up. Maybe I'm just too used to unreliable narrators and Agatha Christie trying to pull one over on me. There was just a sameness to them as Elizabeth Hand quickly cut from one POV to another. It took me quite awhile to realize that Lesley was a female, and seriously, can authors NOT use two too similarly named characters, like Jonathan and Julian? I'm not proud of this but I totally stereotyped the characters to remember who they were, the folklorist, the girlfriend, the dead guy, you get my drift... and not all of them were flattering monikers, just something so I could quickly tell who was who. A really good writer is able to distinguish the different characters enough with their voices that this shortcut of mine wouldn't be a necessity. I felt like it lowered the book. But you could argue that Elizabeth Hand wanted to sew confusion from the start. That she wanted her readers to not get a firm grip on anything. If that was the case? Good on her! See, I'm totally willing to see the other side of things because books are fluid, what the writer intended and what the reader gets could be different, but that doesn't mean both aren't true at the same time.

Though what enchanted me most was the era. Ghost stories just seem to work better when set in a time before technology ran rampant. But I've come to realize that for a ghost story or supernatural spookfest to really catch me there has to be something I connect to. More and more this isn't character driven Victorian stories but more modern pieces set in the not-too-distant past. Like the 70s and 80s. There's a reason why The Conjuring series is doing so well and has so many spinoffs and why so many people have embraced Stranger Things. These are eras that have a distinct look and feel, a time when to get a hold of your friends you had to hope they got your message left with a family member on the one phone in their house or you'd just show up and pray their parents knew where they were. A time when plans couldn't be easily changed. A time when I was innocent and to see that innocence turn malevolent, there's something supercharged about that. Here it's the 70s, and it's perfect. Not just for the distant haze that memory has given me about the decade in which I was born, but because of this insidious supernatural phenomena creeping around the familiar. We have the isolated house, one lone phone, and this kind of golden haze and heat hanging over the events. Therefore when there are clouds or cold, you know something is going to go wrong. There's strange things happening in the house, it's rambling and easy to get lost in. A library that almost no one has found. Yet all of it could be explained away. Everything could be just too much indulgence, until there's proof that this isn't the case. Proof that comes almost at the very end.

Yet that ending is really abrupt. The whole book is kind of a summer idyll interspersed with supernatural phenomena. There's a laziness to it, not in that it's badly written, but in the luxurious pacing. You just want to inhabit the story but then they leave the house, put out the album, and then this interview happens years later... and as for Julian's fate... well, we aren't given anything concrete, we aren't given anything really. That throwaway line about one of the band members maybe seeing him years later doesn't count in my mind. I became invested in these characters lives and I didn't just want the story about THAT summer and their one "hit" album, I wanted to know what came after. How did Lesley become a star? How did Nancy, the girlfriend, end up a professional psychic in Florida? But more importantly, these interviews are all happening not just because of some anniversary for an album that achieved cult status but because there is work being done at the house. Work that uncovers artifacts of archaeological as well as personal interest to our characters. There seems to be a momentum throughout the book that they will all reunite and return to Wylding Hall and yet that never happens. It felt as though right when Elizabeth Hand was about to bring all the different threads together she decided instead she'd finished and just cut the work off prematurely. This is a three-quarters finished story. There is no final act. And THIS was the only bone of contention me and my fellow book clubbers had. Where is the resolution? Where is the final chord?

Because if we are to compare this to a song, they all have a beginning, a middle, and an end. All stories do too. But this one apparently won't. Yes, I have to accept this. I have to concentrate on that which worked so well. What I'm talking about is the purpose of fables and myths and epic songs, all that which goes into folk music. All these tales were told not because they were used as entertainment, but to impart warnings. "These are songs that have been around for hundreds, maybe thousands of years. They existed for centuries before any kind of recording was possible, even before people could write, for god's sake! So the only way those songs lived and got passed on was by singers." These songs were things that needed to be remembered. Things that needed to be known so that danger wasn't stumbled into blindly. While the Brothers Grimm might have gone a little too far with the moralizing, all tales that are passed down are done so with intent. There's a reason the locals get their backs up when these musicians come in asking about what shouldn't be talked of. Though logically IF the locals wanted them to behave perhaps some truth about the village and it's local legends could have warned them off. But that's not the purpose of villagers in these stories, their purpose is to see the strangers blithely walking into danger and keep their mouths shut. The danger that lies in the woods and lures Julian away with the fairies. It's this root of what folk music and folklore is that grounds the entire book in the human experience of tradition. So while it may falter, it still resonates.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: 70s, Agatha Christie, Behind the Music, Brothers Grimm, Elizabeth Hand, Folk, Going Gothic, Gothic, POV, Resolution, Stranger Things, Summerisle, The Conjuring, The Wicker Man, Windhollow Faire, Wylding Hall

High-Rise
Based on the book by J.G. Ballard
Starring: Tom Hiddleston, Sienna Miller, Louis Suc, Luke Evans, Elisabeth Moss, Jeremy Irons, Keeley Hawes, Sienna Guillory, Enzo Cilenti, James Purefoy, Dan Renton Skinner, Stacy Martin, Louis Suc, Toby Williams, Peter Ferdinando, Reece Shearsmith, Augustus Prew, Tony Way, Bill Paterson, Leila Mimmack, Neil Maskell, Julia Deakin, Dylan Edwards, and Fenella Woolgar
Release Date: September 13th, 2015
Rating: ★
To Buy

Following the death of his sister, Doctor Robert Laing moves into a 25th floor studio apartment in a luxurious modern 40 story high-rise. Every modern convenience is taken care of. You'd never actually have to leave the building, and soon that becomes the case, more out of need than necessity. Being in the middle of the building Laing is more open to befriend those both above and below him. He starts seeing an attractive single mother from the floor above, and befriends a family, the Wilders, from a lower floor. But Laing will ascend to the heights when he's invited to the penthouse, where the building's architect Anthony Royal lives. Laing comes to a party which he didn't know was fancy dress, humiliated and thrown out of the party with one of his own medical students looking on he becomes trapped in the elevator in a power outage that is to become commonplace, not a rarity. Due to a series of fortuitous circumstances Laing is able to get revenge on his uppity student, but that student's subsequent suicide seems to be the catalyst for the complete disintegration of law and order within the high-rise. The power outages have been followed by the water being shut off and garbage chutes overflowing. The infrastructure of the building is failing and Royal might just be keeping the authorities away as the building devolves into outright warfare. This isn't "growing pains" this is a microcosm of civilization tearing the class system to shreds. But there is one person who has a plan. Richard Wilder plans to take off the head of the beast. Anthony Royal will die at his hands, what happens next doesn't matter.  

Here is a sentence I never thought I'd write: There are some things that even Tom Hiddleston's bare ass can't fix. I know! This is a shocking revelation to me as well. But High-Rise is one of those high concept adaptations that has literally been in development since the book was written in the 1970s and never really found the right team to shepherd it to the big screen. And yes, I am including the team that actually made this movie, because seriously, it's two hours of my life I want back. A fairly straightforward book was made into a bizarre orgiastic incoherent mess that critics just gobbled up and audiences hated. It's more like a hedonistic verging on incomprehensible overly long music video than a film. There's no structure, just writhing bodies. And such bodies! I mean, the talent on board here is astonishing: Tom Hiddleston, Luke Evans, Jeremy Irons, Keeley Hawes, James Purefoy! I could go on and on because this is like a dream cast with the cream of the crop taken from British television and cinema but if High-Rise proves one point, you can get the best actors in the world and if the vision isn't there, if the writing doesn't shine, if the plot is nonexistent, they can in no way save the film. As I shockingly said before, not even Hiddlesbum could save this mess. Though perhaps we can throw a little blame at Elisabeth Moss? She's destroying dystopian adaptations left and right these days... 

What confused me most about this adaptation is why oh why did they decide to make it period? Yes, this is 100% enshrined in 70s glory. This was the biggest mistake they could have made. The reason the book actually works is that there is a universality to it, so while it was written in the 70s you can totally see it happening now. This specificity of period makes it dated and implausible. Yes, I say implausible. Because if this uprising had occurred, if this past had happened, then the future we live in would be different. There's a reason dystopian literature is either in an alternate timeline or in the near future. This makes it believable. The world we live in could take a turn into a giant dumpster fire and then we're there. We have reached dystopia. Having this horror happen in the past and then forgotten while Margaret Thatcher talks on the radio? Um, no. What's more is the era went on to inform the sets and the costumes. This leads to the audience having a disconnect. I kept thinking, oh look, there's something I vaguely remember from my childhood, or the Wilder's apartment has a vague Star Wars feel to it, Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen must have been called in to decorate. There was no immediacy to the story and the horrors within. I couldn't connect because this 70s framework was a distancing device. But the biggest flaw? Don't model your high-rise lobby off a set from the original Battlestar Galactica.  

The embracing of the 70s aesthetic goes deeper into destroying this film than you might think. As I've mentioned there's a disconnect by having the story take place in the past versus the present or near future, but more than that by having it set in the 70s the film isn't a commentary on the universality of human behavior but a commentary on human behavior during this specific time. Despite what may or may not have happened in the 70s it's come to mean certain things in popular culture. It's viewed as a time of excess, drugs, drinks, and swingers! Where cops didn't have to answer for killing the occasional criminal and justice was sometimes gotten in the most nefarious of ways. Therefore we already have these preconceptions of the 70s and to have this acted out on screen it just seems a product of the time, the 70s was the catalyst, not man's base nature. It's like the director and the writer, who happens to be the directors wife, just didn't get it. The book is a statement of human nature and the devolution of man, and the movie is just "wow, things were crazy in the 70s weren't they?" And in that last scene with Margaret Thatcher coming on the radio? Are they trying to make the film into a political statement of what Thatcher did to England? Because that's a cheap shot. Trying to tag your own message on when you couldn't even properly convey the author's message.

With this bizarre music video style the whole film contains there is one scene, and one scene only that I think captured the essence of the book while creating a new spin on it, letting the filmmakers leave their stamp on the classic book, all while still feeling like an homage to the Annie Lennox "Walking on Broken Glass" video. Doctor Laing is invited to a party in the penthouse. Anthony Royal and his wife are throwing a fancy dress party and the theme is the French court of Marie Antoinette, which of course they didn't bother to tell their guest from the lowly 25th floor. Why is this so perfect? Well the book, not the movie, is about the stratification of the classes within the high-rise and how those lower down are trying to topple those at the top. What happened in France as a result of the excesses of Marie Antoinette and her court was The French Revolution, off with their heads and all that. What is happening within the microcosm of the high-rise is what happened on a larger scale in France. The filmmakers are grounding what is happening in the high-rise with historical precedence, which I think is the only time in two hours of rubbish where I almost liked the film. For that brief instance they got it. Also with the cover of ABBA's "SOS" by Portishead we get a wonderful double meaning, triple if you really want to bother with the whole 70s of the thing. What we get with the song is a menacing warning to those decadent partiers that their time has come, but also a warning that what happens in the high-rise stays in the high-rise. There will be no one coming to save ANY of them. Now if only they burned the whole thing to the ground, film and all I might be satisfied.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: 70s, ABBA, Adaptation, Battlestar Galactica, Class System, Dystopian, Dystopian Drama, Elisabeth Moss, French Revolution, High-Rise, J.G. Ballard, James Purefoy, Keeley Hawes, Margaret Thatcher, Tom Hiddleston

The Martian by Andy Weir
Published by: Broadway Books
Publication Date: February 11th, 2014
Format: Paperback, 387 Pages
Rating: ★★★★
To Buy

Mark Whatney has inadvertently been left behind on Mars. He was part of the Ares 3 mission to the red planet which had to be aborted due to a dust storm and he was left for dead. He doesn't blame his crew mates, they did what they had to do. They did what he would have done in their situation. The problem is, how to tell them he's still alive? Which he won't be for much longer unless he figures some things out, like food. Plus, even if they did know it's not like they can just turn around and pick him up. His life has now become a struggle to survive, but that survival won't mean much unless at the end of it there's some way off the planet. He concentrates on one task at a time. First food and water. If he doesn't have food and water there's no point. So it looks like he's going to get very sick of potatoes, but you eat what you have, or in this case can grow. Once this hurtle is cleared, he needs to get the word out he's alive. Luckily for him Mars is scattered with the debris from past and future missions. The only problem is Mars is big and to get to these other sites is epic journeys of not just days, but weeks. And if while trying to get to these sites something happens, he is cut off from his Habitat and his food supply. But soon Earth is alerted to his survival and they are just as committed to bringing Mark home as Mark himself is. Each and every day is a struggle, but with his unique sense of humor and his captain's never ending supply of 70s television and disco music, he's going to try to make it, to survive being the first person to ever live on another planet. And if he does survive, he will never eat another potato again.

Every once in awhile there's book that you'd not heard anything about and then all of a sudden, bam, it's all everyone is talking about. There are huge endcap displays in stores that look like they have been ransacked, there's a movie adaptation in the pipeline, famous actors are interested in starring, all your friends have read it, the book is ubiquitous. And you'll be intrigued. You'll pick it up out of interest, and realize it's the kind of book that has mass appeal because it's nothing very original and bores you to tears. I have been sucked into this frenzy more then once. Dan Brown, Stieg Larsson, Gillian Flynn, all overlooked authors until they were propelled forward by this weird cultural phenomenon. Therefore when people started talking about The Martian, I was hesitant to say the least. I wasn't going to be caught in a Girl on the Train scenario again. My decision to read the book started to waiver when I saw the trailer for the movie, yes, starring a famous actor. Yet I held firm. But then people's opinions who I trusted as being very harsh started raving about this book. And I'm only human. I caved. And I'm really glad I did. It's an intense book that is meant to be devoured in as few sittings as possible. It's by no means a perfect book, while the first person narration of Mark Watney is spot on, the third person narration back on Earth is choppy, which, let's be honest, is to be expected from a first time author. But what I liked was the book felt like a Michael Crichton book grown up, the science was more accurate, and Mark was a wonderfully snarky narrator, perfect for the disillusioned reader of today. The irony here is that I was at a Michael Crichton movie when my resolve started to waiver. That's right folks, Jurassic World brought me to my generation's Crichton!

Recently one of my friends asked me if she should read this book. I said yes, obviously, but I gave her the caveat that it should be read only if she had the time to devote to reading this book in one go. This book is so suspenseful that you will struggle to set it down. For awhile I wondered if it was just the plight of Mark, the question surrounding his survival. This book is very realistic so his survival isn't a given and I am not going to tell you how it turns out. But I think the real reason is that everything is in the moment, which ups the suspense. What I mean by this is that there's no long expositions about his life back on Earth, his parents in Chicago whom he must miss, etc etc. Yes, his parents are mentioned, but that is all. We know nothing about his past life or his future life, we are living his life moment to moment with him. It's almost like we have a front row seat to his subconscious and survival is the only thing that is allowed to take up valuable brain power. That and bitching about 70s television shows. This means that anyone picking up this book will relate to his situation. He has a distinct personality, but at the same time he is a blank slate, he could come from any background so he could be you or me. Then there's the 70s television and music that are his bane and savior. Everyone has seen these shows or heard the music sometime in their life, it's a cultural touchstone. By including this in the story it gives us something more to relate to in a situation where we feel the question of Mark's survival but in a situation that we would never find ourselves in. So while we might never find ourselves on Mars, we can feel his pain of watching Three's Company and how lame it was when Crissy left.

And I needed that little connection, that 70s kitsch, because there is no way in hell you will ever see me going to Mars. It's not just that this book brought home how I would obviously die very quickly in this situation, it's that I never want to be in this situation in the first place. It says a lot for this book that I enjoyed it so much when I am now and never will be interested in space travel. Yes, the stars and outer space are interesting. I look forward to updates from Mars and the search for intelligent life and when will they reinstate Pluto, but as for wanting to be an astronaut? No chance in hell. I have never wanted to actually go into space myself. I am firmly of the couch surfing the galaxies school. It always mystified me that kids growing up wanted to be astronauts, firefighters, and the president. I wanted to sit and draw, not be shot up into space, trapped in a burning building, or have to make decisions with the fate of the world in jeopardy. Yet reading this book, I can see why people might want to venture out into the unknown. Again, I would die in five seconds, but the day to day survival of Mark, how he works things out, how he messes up, how he triumphs in the face of adversity, this is what an astronaut should be. They should be someone to look up to and admire for what they have done. Yes, going to the moon and back, that's kind of cool, but surviving against all odds for such a long period of time on an alien world? Now that deserves respect. That deserves the accolades of the first men in space.

I think I've also just inadvertently answered my own question I was about to posit... I mean, how realistic is it that NASA would spend SO MUCH MONEY to save Mark? So, as per what I just said, maybe it's because he is the ideal astronaut, the hero everyone has been waiting to come along to add new life into NASA. He's the only human to have lived on another planet! But realistically? Would this play out as it did fictionally in real life? So much of this book is based on real science and real scenarios, it's oddly the most human aspect that I question, and that's would they actual attempt to rescue Mark? It's not JUST the money, though that would be a big concern, it's more human nature. Our attention span as humans keeps shrinking more and more. We like everything in small digestible bites. Anything that is too long loses our interest and here we're supposed to believe that the world as a whole was invested in Mark Whatney for 687 days! That is almost two years! Could the interest in him really stay at fever pitch? Could they really have a thirty minute show daily on the news networks just devoted to him? Well, yes, the news networks can spin nothing into a show, just watch the news sometimes to see, but would people keep watching? I think interest would be at the beginning and at the end. But would that end interest make the pay out of all this time and money worth it? Maybe I'm just cynical, but I don't buy it. Yes, call me contradictory that I buy everything on Mars but have no faith in humanity. And in fact, I believe it's far more likely that they would just hush it all up. Sweep Mark under the carpet and call his death an unfortunate accident.

While I really liked this book there's a part of me that can never love it. I'm just not geeky enough, in the science vein. I could out geek anyone on books and TV, but science, I've never been the biggest fan of science. Yes, I am glad it's there, I just wish I hadn't ever had to take any in school because for me I've never found it relevant. Even being forced to take "Physics in the Arts" in undergrad where they try to focus the science on things that will interest artists, like the chemistry behind developing photos and sound waves in music, I was still bored stiff. Therefore when the book would sometimes go off on a sciencey tangent it would lose me a bit until the next rift on Dukes of Hazzard, where the police should have totally just gone to their house and arrested them and avoided all the car chases. But that's me, I'm the Dukes of Hazzard girl not the "what is it that makes soil viable" girl. And while some of the science was fascinating to me, like how to make soil viable on Mars, there was that other part of me going, but all the science... why all the science? Which again feeds back into why I would never be an astronaut and why I would be dead in seconds. Not only do I not have the passion and desire, but I lack the know-how. But even with all the science that sometimes bogs down the narrative in my opinion, it's real science, and I have to applaud that. Now, if we could make this actually a reality in my lifetime, that would be really cool, you know, for me to watch from my sofa. Elon Musk better get working on this...

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: 70s, Andy Weir, Dan Brown, Elon Musk, Gillian Flynn, Girl on the Train, Jurassic World, Mark Whatney, Mars, Michael Crichton, NASA, Stieg Larsson, The Dukes of Hazzard, The Martian, Three's Company

The Great Train Robbery
Based on the book by Michael Crichton
Starring: Sean Connery, Donald Sutherland, Lesley-Anne Down, Alan Webb, Malcolm Terris, Robert Lang, Michael Elphick, Wayne Sleep, Pamela Salem, Gabrielle Lloyd, George Downing, and James Cossins
Release Date: February 2nd, 1979
Rating: ★★★★
To Buy

Edward Pierce is planning to steal the Crimean Gold shipment. Despite the need of finding and duplicating four keys to get into the two Chubb safes on the London to Folkestone train, the true challenge is that no one has ever stolen anything from a moving train. With the help of his old friend and screwsman Agar and his lady Miriam, they slowly acquire the knowledge of the keys locations and plan on how to copy them. Pierce is willing to go to any length; be it pimping out Miriam, seducing spinsters, betting on dogs in ratting matches, breaking men out of Newgate prison, dead cats, house breaking, and murder, nothing will stop Pierce succeeding in his quest for the gold. Whatever obstacle that is thrown in his path he will find some way to circumvent or eliminate it. The Police themselves couldn't stop this even if they tried, and they have tried; because as Pierce said at his trial, "I wanted the money."

Because of the success of Jurassic Park in the early nineties, most of the adaptations of Crichton's books occurred after that milestone. Crichton's back catalog was rife for the plundering in the hopes of finding the next big hit. The sad fact is Jurassic Park was a bit of an anomaly, with the quality of the adaptations and their box office revenue steeply declining. Every one of the adaptations was trying to emulate the success of Jurassic Park and this often led to absurd additions and bad robotic apes. The adaptations rarely stayed true to the books which made my discovery of The Great Train Robbery that much more exciting. I would in fact go so far as to say of all the Crichton adaptations this captures the book it's based on best while translating it to another medium. This should be of little surprise because Crichton wrote the screenplay and directed it as well, but sometimes it is amazing how blind authors are to creating the best movie versus slavishly sticking to their book. But beyond all that, The Great Train Robbery doesn't feel as if it was made to be a blockbuster, it was made to be a great film and because quality was chosen over kitsch it stands up over time.

What I love about The Great Train Robbery is that an American writer was somehow able to make a quintessentially British Film. Yes, a great deal has to do with the casting, but it goes beyond that. The pace, the sets, the dialogue, the very fiber of the film exudes England. Perhaps this is why the movie works? I've never really thought about this, but the majority of Crichton's films are so American in their way, in other words, out to get the big bucks. The truth is that America doesn't hold the exclusive rights to making movies, despite how much Hollywood might control the global marketplace. Some of the best films, the films of truly high quality, come from outside the system. Now, I wouldn't quality this film as art house cinema, because it doesn't have that feel. But does anyone else find it weird that in this day and age art house cinema is coming to mean more and more a quality film versus something with superheroes? So, if we go by that definition, yes, it is art house. It's unabashedly British with true quality and with a quirky vibe reminiscent of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory and I loved every minute of it.

There is a truth universal to my life and that is British films of the 60s and 70s are a comfort to me. Being raised in the 80s I spent my Sundays with my grandparents watching British television shows and movies from the previous decades on PBS. My parents raised me on movies like The Wrong Box and instilled in me a love of Upstairs, Downstairs. All these shows had a distinct look, a way that they denoted the Victorian time period, with bright colors and garish wallpaper patterns. Just from set design you can pick out a British film of this time period with relative ease. In fact, when did we decide, as a collective whole, that the Victorian period was more sedate? Did the love of pastels in the eighties make us forget that just maybe the seventies color schemes were right and that maybe, just maybe, movies like The Great Train Robbery depicted this bygone age better? Whatever the cause for the change, when I see these colors on screen I'm a little kid again sitting around working on puzzles of Victorian Dollhouses and all is right in the world. It's like a happy pill or a sedative, just start playing the fun music and look at the wallpaper and contentedly sigh.

The one thing that Crichton did do in his adaptation is that instead of doing a serious heist he went for more the comedy/farce angle and I think this really pays off. There's an infectious joy that permeates the film which is completely captured in Sean Connery's roguish grins. This movie shares a spirit animal with The Wrong Box and has the madcap zaniness that is the hallmark of the best British films of this time period. The only thing I do question though is sometimes Crichton's overt us of sexual innuendos falls horrendously flat. The young Mrs. Trent flirting with Connery as Pierce works to an extent because her character is obviously a woman of the world trapped in a loveless marriage. But it's the subtler "bolts" and "screws" while talking about the faux ruin that works, when erections come into it, that's a shade too far. I like that the film doesn't desexualize Victorians as has happened over time, but talk of the train heist arousing Connery more then his paramour... a shade too far.

Though the truth is everything in this films comes down to Sean Connery. And in particular Sean Connery on that train. More and more films don't allow their stars to do stunts. Usually its insurance related. But the sad fact is that this takes something away from the film. Whether it's the bad body double in a loose wig or just a shot where you can obviously see it's not the actor, something is lost. Films are stories that rely on a suspension of disbelief on our part and gaffs with stuntmen and women take us out of the story. Even recently watching the new version of Far from the Madding Crowd I was distracted whenever the camera zoomed out to show Bathsheba riding her horse along the clifftops. It was clearly not Carey Mulligan. And this little slice of reality came in and took away some of the magic of the film. Let's then look to the awesomeness of Sean Connery. The character of Pierce, for obvious dramatic reasons versus the more practical reason of a lock on the outside of the guard van, has to go along the top of a moving train. Connery did this. Sean Connery ran along the top of a moving train! It doesn't get more badass then that! Come for the comedy, stay for Sean Connery proving that even if his name isn't Bond anymore, he's still just as badass as Bond.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: 70s, Adaptation, British Cinema, Far from the Madding Crowd, Heist, Jurassic Park, Michael Crichton, Sean Connery, Stunts, The Great Train Robbery, The Wrong Box, Trains, Upstairs Downstairs, Victorian, Willy Wonka

I'd like to thank Jerome Peterson for stopping by this week, as well as kindly donating a book for one lucky reader... don't forget to enter to win it, because it could very well be you! Also be sure to visit Jerome over on his blog or on goodreads as he sets up a greater web presence in light of his burgeoning writing career. Well, I'm sure you're at the point where you've had enough of me and are ready for Jerome and his answers to some very interesting questions indeed. So without further ado...

Question: How autobiographical is Thumb Flagging?

Answer: Maybe ten percent; maybe.


Question: For the cliched question, what made you decide to become a writer?

Answer: As a kid I was fascinated with the written word. As I grew older I realized those words came out of someone's brain. I tried my hand at it by writing poems and song lyrics and I like it. As far as writing novels, that happened after a binge of reading books that impressed me with inspiration. I said to myself, "I can do that".

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:07 AM 1 comments  

Labels: 70s, Bob Dylan, Chloe, Hitchhiking, Jerome Peterson, Oliver Twist, Petrie Sykes, Sikes, The Man, Thumb Flagging, Wanderlust, Willy Jacobs