Category: Pictures Page 36 of 46

In The Event Of Them Just Adding Another Blade Like They Usually Do, All Entries Will Be Null And Void

Fusion! Power! Stealth!

Manly words! Grr! Words dripping with testosterone and sweat, words which could render women pregnant by reading them individually, but when they’re put together in a row like that… well, we’re clearly talking about a product used by hairy-chested sex gods.

But! Having already plonked two manly words after ‘Fusion’, have Gillette backed themselves into a corner? Are there any remaining words which are so butch they have a Y chromosome? That, my bloggy pals, is the question in today’s competition*, and you – yes, YOU – could win yourself a fantastic prize**!

So, what word or words should Gillette slap on their razors the next time they re-brand? Here are a few of my ideas, but I want to hear from you!

– War
– Goal
– Bomb
– Rottweiler
– Tackle
– Pint
– Geezer
– Transit
– Cock

Post your entry as a Comment, and you could win a very special prize indeed!***

Enter now! This minute! Please enter now! Oh god, I can’t stop using exclamation marks! Help me! Someone! Please!

ENTER NOW!

*It’s not a competition. There is no prize.
**No you couldn’t. He’s lying to you.
***He’s lying again. Frankly, he’s as trustworthy as an ITV phone-in quiz.

This Said, I Am Painfully Aware There’s A Paucity Of Decent Roles For Non-White And/Or Non-Male Actors In Many Films And TV Programmes

I’m not really posting this as one of my ongoing ‘Twins’ series of posts, as the Denzil film came out a good five years before the Dalton film (1984 and 1989, film fans). But instead it reminded me of a topic which I’d been intending to post about for a while, and which is partly triggered by the fact that tomorrow is the centenary of Ian Fleming’s birth.

When they were talking about the search for a new actor to portray Bond in the films, one thing which I heard several times was ‘they should do a black Bond’ or ‘they should do a female Bond’. Indeed, some folks suggested Colin Salmon should play Bond (he seems a pretty good actor, though having appeared in the films as another character might be seen as making this a bit weird, though then again it didn’t stop Joe Don Baker or Maud Adams), though offhand I can’t recall any casting suggestions being made for a woman to play Bond.

My feelings on this sort of thing (and this applies to suggestions of a female Doctor Who as well, really, though the regeneration aspect at least gives this a slight increase in story logic, if nothing else) are slightly mixed, but I think they tend to boil down to one word: why?

I can see the thinking behind it, and agree with it completely, that there aren’t really that many high-profile non-white or female characters in English-language films (or, indeed, other media), but taking an established character and making them black or female just doesn’t seem the way to remedy this, to my mind.

Taking a comic-based example, I think it’s probably fair to say that the best-known female superhero is Wonder Woman, who was created without reference to existing male superheroes. There are a number of female superheroes who are, effectively, female versions of well-known characters (for example, Spider-Woman or She-Hulk – and no, non-comic readers, I’m not making those up), but they’ve never really taken off, and I rather suspect that’s because their rather derivative origins are all too obvious. Wonder Woman, conversely, is a distinct character, not just a transparent copy.

And in the same way, just ‘making Bond a woman’ seems to be a pretty cheap way to try to make a character popular, as does making him black (similarly, I’m not quite sure if the ‘Ultimate’ Marvel comics version of Nick Fury is really that much more interesting by the change in his race, though I gather it did make the post-credits scene of ‘Iron Man’ inevitable).

Surely the right thing to do is to try to create a female or non-white characters who have their own appeal to an audience? It would certainly seem the more creative way to go about it.

It’s not necessarily easy to do that, sure, but I genuinely believe that characters like Jane Tennison or Blade are much more memorable for not just being knock-offs of existing figures. The origin of a character – in a story and also a more meta- sense – is always likely to be far more interesting if it’s not simply something like “Well, The Fall Guy was popular, so we just made Colt Seavers female and called her Stephanie Plum” (because I’m pretty sure that’s not what Janet Evanovich did, and her novels are wildly popular).

People seem to be pretty good at sussing out when stuff is calculated or even tokenistic, and so I think that trying to make characters popular or appealing by simply tweaking one aspect of a previous hit to re-sell to a different section of your perceived audience is a bit obvious, and will be spotted pretty quickly.

At least, I like to think it’s the case that audiences are smarter than they’re often assumed to be; on a purely selfish level, I’d like to think that because it’ll mean that there will be drama and comedy features that need scripts from people like me, and not just a never-ending slew of reality TV or makeover shows.

Review: ‘Born Standing Up’ by Steve Martin

Again, it was one year ago today when I suggested Steve Martin’s skill now seems to lie in his precisely-written novels, and this non-fiction memoir of his experiences doing stand-up comedy seems to suggest this is still, or indeed, the case.

As noted in m’colleague’s mini-review, there was a time when Steve Martin’s stand-up talent was such that he could well have been voted the funniest man in the world; he filled huge venues and sold vast numbers of LPs (yes, it was back in the days before CDs and downloads), and in this book he tells you how he did it.

Well, not exactly, as his comedy was far more fragmented and intuitive than that, so it’s not like it worked to a formula which you could learn from this book and then copy – unless the lack of a formula could be seen as an approach in itself, much like I often fear that the ‘ethical relativist’ stance is, in its way, a positive position. But in this book, Steve talks about how his stage act gradually developed, what worked and what didn’t, and how he felt about his success.

If you’re interested in comedy, both the jokes at the front of it and the process that goes into their creation, this book will almost certainly be of interest; his writing is very precise and easy to understand, and the book’s short and to the point – given that it’s a small-sized hardback (a format I really like), the phrase that kept coming to mind as I read it was that it’s ‘a bonsai book’ – there’s not a lot of it, but everything that’s there is there for a reason.

I’ve read a few books purporting to tell you how to write and/or perform comedy, but they’re usually written by people I’ve never heard of, which hardly inspires confidence; this book, though, is written by a man who rose to the very top of the comedy ladder, and who honed his act carefully and thoughtfully for some time before finding success. A great read, and most definitely recommended – but if you have any lingering doubts about whether it’d be for you, you can read the first chapter here.

Review: ‘Blind Faith’ by Ben Elton

Exactly one year ago, I wrote about how Ben Elton seems to do more interesting work in his books than his stage and screen work (‘Get A Grip’, his most recent TV work, was pretty weak, though I think that was partly due to the format and his co-host; Alexa Chung may be popular with the papers and fashion magazines, but her presenting skills are, I feel, doubtful – compare her to, say, Mikita Oliver, and it’s all too obvious who’s most comfortable and natural on-camera. But I digress).

And lo and behold, here I am 365 days on, reviewing his most recent novel, ‘Blind Faith’. As you could guess from the cover and the title, it’s very much a novel about belief.

Set in a future London after a disastrous flood (which, now I think of it, links with several religious stories), the book features a man called Trafford who starts to have doubts about the society he lives in – everyone shares everything (literally – sex and childbirth are public events) on constantly-streamed websites, people walk the streets barely-clothed, and there are vast religious events which have more in common with a political rally than, say, a charismatic gathering.

Science and reason are actively frowned upon and punished, meaning that vaccination is outlawed, and Trafford begins to wonder if all this is right, especially after his wife gives birth to their daughter. His wondering turns into active doubt, and he begins to seek people who, like him, think that things could be different.

As you’ve probably guessed, there are definite parallels with Orwell’s ‘Nineteen Eighty-Four’, but to be honest this is almost impossible to avoid in a dystopian novel, as Orwell’s book casts a long shadow. Elton’s take on these things, though, is more acute in its attacks on what he sees as being wrong in the present day (the current obsessions with ‘sharing’, public emoting, celebrity and the like), and as a result is, to my mind, more satirical.

And it’s not toothless satire or restrained prose, either – here’s an example from one of the book’s key scenes:
“… no society based on nothing more constructive than fear and brutish ignorance could survive for ever. No people who raised up the least inventive, the least challenging, the least interesting of their number while crushing individual curiosity and endeavour could prosper for long.”
… those are meant to be Trafford’s thoughts, but I think it’s not too much of a reach to imagine that it’s what Ben Elton thinks too.

This isn’t a gut-bustingly laugh-out-loud gagfest, but is certainly one of Elton’s stronger books, and the points it makes are, to my mind, solid ones, and it’s well-written. It just came out in paperback last week, and I heartily recommend it to you as a good read, and one which might well set you thinking about some of the issues it raises.

Oh, For Faulks’ Sake

So, this book comes out next week – Sebastian Faulks (whose work I must admit I haven’t read, though people whose opinions I trust speak highly of his writing) has written a new James Bond novel (with the blessing of Fleming’s estate). All very well and good, but what’s that in the bottom right-hand corner?

‘Sebastian Faulks Writing As Ian Fleming’, it seems.

Now, maybe I’m just exacting to the point of pedantry, but you can’t really claim that, can you? Oh, sure, when Virginia ‘Flowers In The Attic’ Andrews died the family got another author to be cover-credited as ‘The New Virginia Andrews’, rather bewilderingly, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen the phrase ‘writing as’ used (by which I mean misused) in such a way.

‘Writing as’ is, you see, used when you’re writing under a pseudonym, not trying to write something in the style of another author. There are high-profile authors who’ve ‘written as’ – Stephen King writing as Richard Bachman or Norah Roberts as JD Robb , but that’s because those were made-up names and not real people they were seeking to emulate (given that Bachman allegedly claimed his religion was ‘rooster worship’, that’s probably for the best in Steve K’s case).

For crying out loud, when Kingsley Amis wrote a Bond book, he did so under a pseudonym, but the editions of that book which state his true identity say it was ‘Kingsley Amis writing as Robert Markham’ (as you can just about see if you peer at the bottom of the cover here).

I’m guessing it’s not Mr Faulks’s fault; he seems to be a genuine fan of Fleming’s work, and is trying to emulate the style of Fleming – but then again, so was Raymond Benson, the previous author who wrote authorised Bond novels, and his cover credit wasn’t that he was writing as Ian Fleming, it was just his name. Unlike Faulks, who’s well-known in his own right, Benson could probably have used that kind of promotional push. And marketing is where I think the idea for this bizarre bit of branding probably originated, to be honest – I just wish that they’d put something like ‘After’ or ‘In The Style Of’ or… I dunno, maybe come up with their own set of words to describe it, rather than using a phrase which already has a meaning.

Unless, of course, this is the way the popular kids are using the phrase ‘writing as’ now. That being the case, this post is by John Soanes, Writing As Charles Dickens.

Sometimes The Devil (Or In This Case The Demon Agat) Is In The Details

In September, DC Comics will be publishing a deluxe reprint of Frank Miller’s 1983-4 comic series Ronin.

Here’s hoping that the oversized, super-deluxe edition restores the line of dialogue which was in the final panel of page 48 of chapter six, and which seems to have been absent from printings of the reprint volume for the last decade or so (see comparison of original and reprint, above).

As with the single digit ‘5’ that was missing from the final chapter of printings of Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four following an error in the 1951 edition (it’s what Winston is ‘almost unconsciously tracing with his finger in the dust on the table’), it’s a small omission, but one which seriously detracts from the meaning of the tale’s ending.

All images are, of course, utterly (c) copyright Frank Miller 1983, 2008. No infringement is intended, I’m just an eagle-eyed reader.

The Best Man For The Job, Rather Alarmingly

So, my best Oscar Wilde impression there. I’m certainly working on the rotundity of the post-Reading years, I fear.

Anyway, as you can probably deduce from the picture, I was at a wedding over the weekend – and a fab one it was too, probably one of the best I’ve ever attended, as it was amazingly relaxed. And I say this despite being the Best Man, so you’d think I’d have been all stressed and harried because of my role, but not so.

Doing the speech was, for an egomaniac like me, a delight, and it went over well; I’ll cheerfully admit that I wanted to get tears from some members of the audience for some of the bits of the speech, and indeed there was some dabbing at the corner of the eyes from some of the attendees (though the cynical might suspect this is more to do with suffering than a surge of emotion). And laughter at other points in the speech, which made my ego swell in a way that I only later realised I’d known before.

It was, I suddenly thought, like the times when I used to dabble at stand-up comedy; when it was going well, you could get the crowd to go with you on some of the more fanciful notions, and the brain seemed to think of things and put them into words faster than you might otherwise have thought possible. Like in writing or painting or many other fun pursuits (yes, even that one) you feel very much one with the moment, and the gap between thought and action is startlingly small.

When it goes badly, on the other hand, it’s embarrassing (though that doesn’t really worry me much, on the basis that it’s only a handful of minutes out of my life, usually in front of people I’ll never see again) but more than anything it feels clunky and awkward, as if the words and the ideas themselves are fundamentally wrong in some way. Professional comedians speak of how a joke that kills one night will itself die a death the next, and though I hardly did that many stand-up spots, I certainly had my fair share of ‘hmm, that one worked fine last time’ moments.

Anyway, that’s all rather by the by (and certainly in the past), though it was interesting to have a taste of it once again. M’colleague has suggested that perhaps I should see about becoming a professional best man, which – like so many things he says – I doubt is at all plausible, but one does see adverts offering the services of professional speechwriters, after all. Maybe I could become the Sam Seaborn of the Wedding Speech world ?

Yes, I know, he’s better-looking than me, but I’m talking about the writing of speeches here, not the power to make women swoon…

This Week’s Puerile Post (Getting It Done Early)

Whilst it’s good that they’ve adhered to a suitably letter-based system for naming the follow-up, I do think that fans of the first film are going to be disappointed by the absence of any of the original cast and characters.

The rest of us will probably be relieved.

Sometimes, It’s Not The Front Covers Of Books Which Make Me Roll My Eyes In Despair

Yesterday, I bought the paperback of Sir Ranulph Feinnes’s autobiography; he’s climbed Everest and been to at least one of the Poles, and the other year he ran seven marathons in as many days, or something equally insane-sounding, so I think he’s a chap whose life story will be an interesting one. And besides, it was half price in Books etc.

On the back cover, though, there are a number of quotes, including the following from the Daily Mail:

“Sir Ranulph has earned his place in the heroic roll call of Scott, Shackleton and the rest.”

… I get the idea that the Mail reviewer was struggling to find people to name-drop who were, y’know, British. Hillary and Norgay, Amundsen, and even Columbus spring to mind, and oddly enough I have no problem in doffing my hat (or at the very least touching the brim) to people who’ve achieved things but happen to have been born outside of this sceptred isle.

The Daily Mail, on the other hand…

This Book Cover Reprinted In The Spirit Of Irony, And Acknowledgement Of How Time, Experience And Emotion Conspire To Make Fools And Liars Of Us All

A number of people, including m’colleague, have pointed to the election of Boris Johnson as Mayor of London, and suggested it’s a bad thing, and that we who live in London should hang down our heads in shame.

As I think I’ve said before, I’m registered to vote, but find none of the candidates credible or worthy of my vote, and there’s no ‘None Of The Above’ option on the ballot paper for me to express that dissatisfaction; indeed, if you spoil your voting paper, not only do you slow the count down for people who have voted, but your spoiled paper is discounted from the final ‘adjusted’ figures as if it was never there. So, consider me disenfranchised.

And please don’t give me any of that ‘if you don’t vote you can’t complain’ piffle – I consider myself eminently placed to complain both about the system which excludes me, and the calibre of the candidates. As a vegetarian of many years standing, I compare it to a restaurant which doesn’t offer a veggie option. Am I allowed to say I think that restaurant’s limited in its offerings? I think that only the most rabid of carnivores would say no.

I think it was very much an election of personalities, with Londoners deciding that they’d rather see how the possibly racist candidate fared in office, as opposed to the present incumbent with his apparent tendency to compare people to nazis. Well, when I say ‘Londoners’, I mean less than half of those registered to vote, as the turnout was just under 50%. Hardly what you’d call a mandate.

Of course, the people who stand to lose the most from Johnson’s election to power are also those who are currently most happy about it – and by that, of course, I mean the Evening Standard newspaper. Even to my politically uninterested eye, they’ve been blatantly anti-Livingstone all the way (and yesterday’s front cover relegated the news that 20,000 people may be dead in Burma in favour of a large picture of Boris cycling to work), so they’re currently very pleased to have their candidate in office. But the way they’ve pimped him so shamelessly and built up expectations of enormous change sweeping through London has to be hopelessly unrealistic. Boris will, like all politicians, make mistakes and suffer setbacks to his plans and all the usual stuff which is wheeled out whenever election pledges aren’t met, and I think the staff of the Evening Standard are likely to have something of a rude awakening.

Being the gullible dupe I am, of course, I’ve been taken in completely by their support and outrageous claims for Johnson, and firmly believe that there is nothing at all which will stand in Boris’s way. So by the time the Olympics come to London in 2012, I expect the city to be paved with crushed diamonds, the toilets to flush champagne, and for the skyline to have been transformed into something out of the Jetsons.

I mean, it’s not as if politicians and/or the media have ever lied to me before, is it ?

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