Tuesday, 30 August 2016

Breathing Pure Imagination - RIP Mr Wilder

I'm sitting on a train with tears in my eyes. Gene Wilder died. I didn't know him. I believe he was a good man. He was old and unwell, now he's at peace. He's passing is therefore sad but well earned. Not enough for me to be near tears for a stranger. So why am I?

While he was brilliant in all the roles I've seen him in, I think my grief stems from Willy Wonka. Gene Wilder was not Willy Wonka, he didn't write his dialogue, and through technology Willy Wonka will always roam the chocolate factory, but Gene breathed life into the character. He took the words on the page and made them live. That breath is gone. Perhaps it is that I mourn.

I don't remember when I first saw the movie. Its images and scenes have always floated in my mind. I didn't really remember the kids or the sentimentality of Charlie and his family. I remembered the man in the purple suit with the top hat. He was wise, he knew how things worked. And he lived in a factory where things were not as they are in the rest of the world. He walked corridors that shrank without appearing to, had wallpaper you could taste, and there was magic at every turn. And all with the underwritten air of menace.

Later, in my 20s, when in one of my darker periods, there were two parts of the movie that meant so much to me. The first and most important was the song Pure Imagination. I knew there was no life like it, and I clung to the idea that my imagination was something important. If you listen closely to the tune, there is that tinge of melancholy, or maybe that's just for me. But under the wonder is the reality that it is lost on so many people. Willy knows the children will fail, that they do not understand what he is singing about.

The second part is one line of dialogue which to me is a reminder, not only of the power of the message of the song, but of our responsibility to live it. 'We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams.'

Gene Wilder understood that. He lived it. And he breathed in the words and exhaled the vision. It will last, but there is one less dreamer of dreams in this world. May you view paradise Mr Wilder. And you, whoever you are reading this, whatever you do in life, always -

Keep dreaming!

Monday, 29 August 2016

Bernhard Schlink's The Reader - A Micro-Review

The ReaderThe Reader by Bernhard Schlink

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


What to say about The Reader? Unsettling, thought-provoking, uncomfortable. They all come to mind as ways to describe it. It's also well written, compelling and convincing; while I know the line between truth and fiction is always blurred and especially so in historical fiction, there was a need to remind myself this is not autobiography. Not directly anyway.

But even now as I sit here, having finished it 12 hours ago, I don't know how to feel. But, that's the point isn't it? Schlink has thrown out the rule book on how to feel about such a sacrosanct subject. I do not know Hanna, cannot know her, the narrator in the end does not know her and he knew her better than anyone else. We don't know what she did, why she did what she did or anything else. Only that what she did was, by usual standards unconscionable. Should I even want to understand what can only be condemned?

There are no answers here. Only the questions, and are they not the same questions we must ask ourselves? Are not the same atrocities being enacted around the world on differing scales right now? Do we not ignore, allow, condone such acts? Should we seek to condemn wholesale, or do we try to understand?

The novel suggests that history seeks to build a bridge between the past and the present and the historian must therefore be an active participant in both. In telling of the past here, Schlink builds that bridge, and in crossing it to see the past the reader must confront questions of the present.



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Thursday, 11 August 2016

Suicide Squad - A Review

With the success of superhero movies of the past few years mostly down to Marvel, it was important for DC to do something to level the playing field and, Suicide Squad, the third movie in its series, certainly sets itself apart. First, there are the heroes, a group of infamous villains co-opted to work for the ‘good guys’; it’s the old Dirty Dozen concept but with meta-humans, as characters with super powers are called these days. That in itself can be a tricky task for a story in any medium but Suicide Squad does it well by humanizing the meta-humans in simple but effective ways, Killer Croc, for instance, is the downtrodden outsider, the mistreated freak with an understandable grudge against everyone, rather than simply a mutant killer who lives in the sewers.

Second is the movie’s place in the current DC film universe. Not only is it a notably darker universe than Marvel’s, or most versions of DC’s own, it’s a series that focuses not on the real-world potentialities of meta-humans. Most notably, the threat of Superman in Man of Steel as opposed to the instant adulation he usually receives. His arrival, and the appearance of meta-humans has created a shift in the way the world works and Suicide Squad explores the human face of this. Hence, Killer Croc’s mistreatment in prison, and the utter criminal lunacy of the Joker and his addled paramour Harley Quinn.

The main way the film explores this however is through the squad’s manipulation by the government, in particular, Amanda Waller, a shadowy high-ranking official who’ll kill her own staff to protect information. Her ruthlessness and role as puppeteer, next to the squad’s humanized qualities, effectively question who the ‘bad guys’ really are in this scenario. This is especially successful through the character of Deadshot, an assassin for hire, who’s also a father who misses his daughter. Despite the advertising for the film suggesting Harley Quinn and the Joker were the main characters, it’s Deadshot that Suicide Squad is hinged upon and it’s for that reason it works as a film. Will Smith gives him enough depth for us to root for him, even though we know he’s actually a murderer for hire with little regard for human life.

The film’s weakness is in its tendency to have spontaneous scenes for no good reason and some whacky editing. Harley stopping the action to steal a handbag might be in character but it only really served to interrupt the flow of the story. Rumours of studio interference might explain that but we’ll never really know.

The Enchantress, the nominal villain of the film, is arguably a weak-spot too. Her scheme is almost fully fledged before the heroes are even aware of what’s happening and there is little conflict with her or involving her at all. This breaks from the Hollywood playbook and probably has some in a flutter, but the film is not about the heroes saving the world; it’s about a group of troubled – and troubling – characters being played by a government. In the end, the Enchantress is a plot-device to bring them together, which some may not like but is an age-old storytelling device. Besides which, her own powers mirror Amanda Waller’s creation of the Suicide Squad and her use of leverage by knowing as much as possible about the individuals.


In all, Suicide Squad is a good movie, with a strong cast that explores a dark and violent world on a human level. It balances action, drama and comedy well, with occasional disruptive moments seemingly designed for fans of specific characters. Well worth a watch.

Tuesday, 9 August 2016

The Lover - A Micro Review

The Lover The Lover by Marguerite Duras

My rating: 3 of 5 stars


This is a book I wish I could have read in one sitting. I think it needs that to achieve its full effect.

The fragmenting of time is what made this book for me, seeing the scattered memories come together had its own special fascination. Unfortunately, possibly because I did read it in a number of sittings, it lost my interest toward the end.



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Monday, 1 August 2016

26 Views of the Starburst World - A Micro Review

26 Views of the Starburst World: William Dawes at Sydney Cove 1788-179126 Views of the Starburst World: William Dawes at Sydney Cove 1788-1791 by Ross Gibson

My rating: 2 of 5 stars


I found this book frustrating as it swung from fascinating history with interesting musings to wild conjectural ramblings that had no basis and seemed to contradict some of the actual history. At the same time, it could just be a historical fiction novel written with the wild conjectures as a given, and then I'd think there was basis and accept things that could be fanciful, so I'm glad Gibson flagged his 'divinations'. On the other hand, he'd then make statements about Dawes with no reference to how he knew such things about him, were they conjecture or based on what few accounts he had to draw on? I may never know.



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Steel's "On the Salt Road"

Fair to say, Flora Annie Steel's short story "On the Old Salt Road" both surprised me and creeped me out. I've read a fair...