Despite having lived in London for over a decade, yesterday was the first time I’ve ever been to Highgate Cemetery.
As the chap at the gate said, the main draw for many visitors is the tomb of Karl Marx:
But there are many other graves to see, and it’s a quiet and somehow relaxing atmosphere – well worth a look if you have the time and are in North London.
Though I have to admit that several times in the visit I heard David Tennant’s voice in my head…
As it was – notionally – Henry Jones Junior’s 110th Birthday yesterday, and following a recent re-watch of Indiana Jones And The Last Crusade, I thought I’d just mention a recentish Lucasfilm re-edit of existing material – less glaring than Greedo shooting first, granted, but still rather strange, to my mind.
The 1992-1996 TV series The Young Indiana Jones Chronicles wasn’t a wildly popular show – probably, I suspect, because it often came over as an uncomfortable mix of entertainment and historical fact; the young Jones meets a lot of historical figures (Lawrence of Arabia, Hemingway, Picasso and so on), and if you don’t know who they are or know their historical significance, it’s kind of reduced as a show.
Anyway, it was shown in various slots on UK TV, and I rather liked it, partly because episodes were often bookended by ‘present day’ (that is, early 1990s) encounters between people and an aged Indiana Jones, played by George Hall. As you can see from the picture accompanying this post, Jones in his 90s appeared to have lost an eye, which of course leads to the question of how, suggesting a story yet to be told.
And yet, rather inexplicably, Lucasfilm (presumably with the blessing of George Lucas – also pictured, he’s the one without the fedora) have edited out the ‘Old Indy’ aspects of the show for the DVD release. It’s not fatal to the story by any stretch of the imagination, though I rather liked the suggestive nature of the missing eye and facial scar (even as it does remove the suspense of the films, as we know that Jones will survive to a ripe old age), but it does strike me as rather symptomatic of a tendency to tinker which Lucas (and his pal Mr Spielberg) seems unable to resist.
Ultimately, the films etc are Lucas’s baby, and so I think that one has to concede that if he wants to add or delete stuff, then he’s free to do so; the usual excuse given is that it takes it closer to the original vision, though I must admit that if I was responsible for some of the most well-loved films of the last 50 years or so, I’d probably tend to leave well enough alone – however I suspect it’s the fate of creative types to only be able to see the flaws in their work, whilst if it finds an audience, they will probably focus on the merits.
I’m increasingly feeling that there is a tacit agreement between creators and their audience, though most of my feelings about this boil down to simple commandments (thou shalt not deus ex machina, thou shall know where thy story is going, that kind of thing) than to the exact nature of ‘entitlement’ within the relationship; as Neil Gaiman recently pointed out, the creator “is not your bitch”, and in the final analysis I suppose it’d best just to pretend there isn’t a new film or book or revamped version of the old one if you don’t like it. I know that’s easier said than done, and sometimes it’s bewildering how a creator themselves seems to lose sight of the aspects of their work which resonate with the audience, and indeed which made them popular (examples which spring readily to my mind would be the novel Hannibal, and Jewel’s album 0304). But – as Gaiman again points out – we’re talking about other human beings here, and they’re as prone to making errors of judgment as you and I.
It may be the sunshine outside, or the fact I have a cup of tea to hand, which is making me less snarly about this subject than usual; on the other hand, it may well be the fact that the excised Young Indiana Jones material has been lovingly compiled by some kind folks and placed on youtube in chunks such as this, and by sticking the letters ‘pwn’ before the web address, it’s possible to download the footage.
Um, you do know about that ‘pwn’ trick, right? If not, then I hope that me imparting that to you has made it feel like it was worth wading through the above rambling nonsense…
… a handful of minutes past the deadline for the BBC CBBC Writing Competition.
So, did any of you fine people enter? According to Royal Mail (yes, I know – hardly the most reliable of sources), my script was delivered this morning, and I know that Lawrence, Antonia and Dom have all entered too, so that’s at least four people. Any more?
Like many of the folks linked above, I rather enjoyed writing my script – which is called, at Mrs Soanes’s suggestion, The Secret Life Of A Bookworm – and was fairly pleased with how it turned out, even if, what with it being the first of a possible series, I had to get some exposition out of the way before I could get to the action. Still, I hope I did it pretty well, and I keep my fingers crossed about hearing back from the Beeb for the next stage, a workshop on Tuesday 28 July for the select(ed) few.
On the subject of hearing back, I see from the BBC Writersroom site that they intend to let people know if they’re through to the next round on Friday 10 July – that is, next Friday. Quite soon, then, but that’s certainly better than keeping people waiting.
And now this deadline is past, it’s on, on, ON to the next bit of writing! To the novel, and don’t spare the clauses*!
*Grammar, I mean, not Santa’s family.
For pretty much as long as I can remember, the cost of CDs by the Beatles has been pretty stable – generally hovering around £15 per album (in shops, that is). It’s probably because they’re classics and perennial bestsellers, and it’s a good solid source of income for everyone involved. It’s also the reason I don’t have as many Beatles albums as I’d like.
Anyway, I was driven to think about this when I saw that one can now get the entire Monty Python TV series* for less than £16. Back when I was a teenage boy learning Python sketches off by heart instead of getting out in the sunshine or snogging girls, the VHS boxed sets of Python would set you back something in the region of £40 a series – so you’d probably be lucky to get the lot for less than £100 (though I know Mr Lomax got a decent deal on a set of all of them). And then they released the series on DVD recently, at about £15 a throw, which is way less than the VHS cost for a much better quality of image and sound. And then the deal linked above makes it possible to get all 45 episodes for £16. Presumably they’ll come out on Blu-Ray soon, and cost about £2.53, though for an extra tenner Eric Idle will come round and do your washing-up.
The same happened with Friends – the VHS tapes had 4 episodes per tape, and were about £10 each, so you’d be looking at something like £60 per series, or £600 for the whole run of the show. And now you can buy a boxed set of the DVDs for about £50. And it’s similar for The West Wing.
So, I’m rather bewildered; Python, Friends and The West Wing – which (I think it’s fair to say) are all still held in high esteem and rated as ‘classics’ of their genres – seem to have tumbled in cost over the years, and yet Beatles CDs – equally well-respected – don’t seem to have shifted much in price. And if it’s a question of the media involved (I can see how DVDs involve fewer working parts than a videotape), how can it be cheaper to produce a DVD than a CD? Less information, I would have thought. And why is it that boxed sets of The Wire are more like the Beatles CDs in cost? That doesn’t seem consistent.
Oh, my head hurts. Any of you good people have any idea why pricing seems to vary so much? I’m not being sarcastic or facetious here (for a change), I’d really like to know why it’s so unpredictable. If you can enlighten me, please use the Comment function to explain – words of one syllable are often best. Thanks.
*No, I’m not going to refer to it as Monty Python’s Flying Circus, because the acne-riddled teenage pedant in me is aware of the name change for Series 4. Oh yes.
Just a brief but self-indulgent post to share how I’m doing with my entry for the BBC CBBC writing thingy.
I’m making fairly good progress with it, I think, and hope this weekend to sit down with Mrs Soanes and have a ‘table read’, as ’twere a proper script for screen or stage.
As I go along, I’m painfully aware of bits which need work (exposition, though a necessary evil, will need to be pruned – or, rather hacked right back with a metaphorical scythe), but I’m ploughing on, and reminding myself that the fun of redrafting lies ahead – as I keep saying to myself, “get it written, and then get it right” (a saying I’m sure I’ve nicked from someone else, but offhand I can’t recall who it might have been).
Whilst the script’s flaws are currently all too visible to me, one thing I’ve been quite pleased with is the interaction betwene the two main characters – though I’m painfully aware that dialogue can easily be overwritten and end up being more fun for the writer and actors than the audience, I think I’m doing an okay job of capturing the speech patterns of two young people – two girls, no less, as I’m always keen to try to refute the assertion that men can’t write female characters (I don’t believe it any more than I believe the reverse to be true).
Anyway, back to it – how’s everyone else doing? Has anyone sent theirs in yet? I know I’m cutting it fine-ish with the deadline being Wednesday, but I like to think mine won’t be the last entry to arrive at the BBC…
I got an e-mail the other day from a chap called William Akers, asking if I’d mention his forthcoming talk on the blog. Given that Will’s a writer with actual produced films to his credit, PLUS the fact that he worked on Eerie, Indiana and Lois and Clark (two TV programmes I like), it would have been churlish to say no. And whilst I’m frequently childish, I like to think I’m not churlish. Well, if I can avoid it. anyway.
So: Will’s talk is called Fatal Errors New (and experienced!) Writers Make! and it’s being held at Met Film School (Ealing Studios, Ealing Green, London W5 5EP) on Thursday 2nd July between 6:30 and 8:30 p.m. Entry costs a mere £15, which you can pay on the door, though you need to book ahead of time by e-mailing beka[at]metfilm.co.uk. Let’s face it, you could easily spend that on a round of drinks (or a couple of coffees at London prices), so it’s quite the bargain.
You can find full details of the session here. Definitely worth going along if you can make it, I’d say (I’m already booked that night for a family event – pah).
Will is also the author of the attention-grabbingly-titled Your Screenplay Sucks!, pictured above, which you can read more about here, and buy from the usual places (and some of the more unusual ones too, I’d wager). Will also has a blog, which has solid advice on matters writing-related, such as the following on the idea of selling ‘an idea’ for a film:
Someone who has sold screenplays for lots of money can sell an idea, if they have a famous actor attached. Have you sold screenplays for lots of money? Have you got a famous actor attached?
If the answer to either question is “No,” then shut up already and write your script.
With that in mind, I’ll shut up and get back to writing. Hope that you can make it to the talk, though, it sounds like it’ll be useful – if you do, be sure to let me know all about it!
Presented for your comparison: the cover of Warren Ellis’s novel Crooked Little Vein (2007) and the logo for Glenn Beck’s Common Sense Comedy tour (2009).
Mr Ellis is a noted writer, especially in the field of comics. Mr Beck presents shows for Fox News. You can probably guess whose work I admire more.
There is, I realise, the possibility that the snake image is based on something pre-existing – it does, for example, look a bit like an olde worlde map drawing of a river – and that the above snarking is missing a fundamental point. Put me straight, by all means – that’s what the Comment function is for.
EDITED TO ADD: the ever-vigilant Piers has pointed out that it’s derived from a common source – a woodcut by Benjamin Franklin from 1754. I am suitably chastened.
As it’s just over a fortnight before the CBBC Writing Opportunity closing date, I thought I’d just ramble a bit about – er, sorry, I mean share – the thought process behind my entry-to-be, which currently rejoices in the title of ‘Title to be decided’.
The target audience is 6-12 year olds, and so I set to thinking about what kind of thing would be suitable for them; my gut feeling was that whilst it needed to be something which would be relatable in terms of setting, making the focus of it about school or family life might make it a bit too close to reality. I’m probably showing my age here, but I was thinking in terms of the general tone of the programme Jonny Briggs (which is not about the actor from Coronation Street, it’s a TV show from the 80s).
That said, I liked the idea of one aspect of it being a bit strange and somehow fantastical, in case it be more like a mirror than a viewing-glass, as it were – and that Alice-ism isn’t entirely accidental; I read a quote from Bryan Fuller on Dan Owen’s blog about how he wanted to get Heroes
“back to the basic principle of ordinary people in an extraordinary world and how these characters are relatable to us and what we would do if we were in their situations, and really grounding it in that conceit”
… which doesn’t quite ring true to me (though I stopped watching it at the end of the first season), as I thought the hook of Heroes was that it was extraordinary people in an ordinary world: the old cliche of real-world superheroes (well, it’s a cliche in comics since the mid-1980s, anyway, slightly less in other media).
Anyway, I feel I want TTBD (as nobody’s calling it) to be real-world-grounded (so I don’t have to spend forever on the setup), and maybe have something a bit unusual happening to an ordinary character, so we see him or her react in a way we might react ourselves. In a way, I guess, this is a bit like those novels which are referred to as being ‘Magic Realism’, which (from my limited knowledge of such things) tend to feature the real world with a slight twist.
Mind you, as Gene Wolfe pointed out,”Magic realism is fantasy written by people who speak Spanish”, so perhaps I shouldn’t kid myself that there’s anything all fancy about my idea.
On the other hand, the CBBC Q&A tonight may well mean that I dump the notes that have resulted from the above, and end up having to start all over again and send in something a bit more rushed and unlikely to win… see what I did there ? I set up my excuses early.
Or, as writers like to call it, I foreshadowed a later event.
I only hope that’s not the full extent of my storytelling ability.
This picture is currently being used to promote Miley Cyrus’s concerts in London this December.
However, I can’t help but think it looks more like a still from an episode of CSI.
Presumably Billy Ray Cyrus will manage to snag the role of grieving father, weeping over the perforated autopsy table.
After all, as well as appearing in the recent Hannah Montana film, he has demonstrated his range in other roles.
Priding myself of being ahead of the game in many regards (reading Watchmen as it came out in monthly chunks in the 1980s, listening to Dido’s No Angel CD on import before we all got heartily sick of it), I also often try to avoid things when they’re atop a wave of publicity, in the hope I can experience them without being distracted by the attendant hype.
Well, anyway, that’s my excuse for only recently having watched any of Battlestar Galactica. As recommended by pretty much anyone who likes it, I started with the mini-series (or backdoor pilot, as some people prefer to call it – oh, the cynicism), and I thought it was good stuff. I’m told, though, that the series meanders and rather loses focus a bit in the middle before coming to an unsatisfyingly deus ex machina ending – can anyone tell me if it’s worth pursuing?
The thing is, though, that whilst watching it, I didn’t feel that I was watching a science-fiction TV programme, but more a drama which happened to be set in space. Oh, sure, the conflict and drama was ultimately rooted in technology and the like, but the main focus is frequently on emotion and interaction, which is why I suspect it’s popular – the backdrop may be unfamiliar, but there are people loving and hating and scheming and being heroic in ways that all of us are familiar with. It’s probably the reason why Shakespeare’s plays are so popular and perennial, despite the changes in society – going even further back, it could well be why Jesus’s parables still resonate.
Anyway, it occurred to me that, in a broader sense, stories such as Battlestar Galactica and Star Trek are effectively contemporary dramas but with different sets and costumes; no matter what the setting, the story tends to find a wider audience when it doesn’t require an in-depth, in-universe knowledge of made-up interplanetary diplomacy, but instead shows people acting and reacting in ways which we could imagine we might.
So, taking this a thought-step further, it occurred to me that if the most successful SF is that which most resonates with our current emotional and interpersonal states, the same may well be true for fantasy, and indeed costume drama, which, though invariably set in the past, tends to deal with relationships and disputes which we all recognise. One example of a costume drama which went down very well in recent years was Bleak House, which emphasised the drama as much as the costume, and even played to our modern sensibilities by being presented in a format akin to that of a soap opera.
I say all this because it’s occurring to me that some story ideas I have could work just as well if I set them in the past or the future; my natural tendency is to set stories in the present day (I said earlier I’m prone to miss trends until they’re over – it may well be that I’m a New Puritan a decade late), but I’m now feeling that certain tales might be more effective if set in other eras, be they historical, imaginary or a combination of both.
Mind you, a combination of future and history, or science fiction and costume drama, isn’t impossible either; case in point, the forthcoming (and superbly-titled) film Pride and Predator…
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