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REVIEW : Knowing

This is the new film from director Alex Proyas, and starring Nicolas Cage. It concerns a chap who realises that a list of numbers found in a time capsule from 1959 are a code which gives details of disasters (both man-made and natural) which occurred after the time capsule was buried – and, he realises, there are numbers covering future dates as well. An intriguing premise, which is why I went to see it.

I’m not entirely sure that the film quite makes good on the promise in the premise, mind, and given the way it’s been advertised, other audience members may be left feeling slightly duped; it’s been trailed more like a thriller with supernatural undertones, which isn’t really very accurate at all, as it’s much more of a science fiction film. And I know that’s not everyone’s cup of tea – one woman outside the cinema complained rather loudly about the sudden veer into SF towards the end (if you’ve ever seen The Watcher In The Woods, it’s in that sort of vein).

Anyway, it’s not a bad film, for all that; Cage isn’t an actor who draws me to the cinema just by his name being on the poster, but he turns in a decent enough performance here – though the grieving widower father isn’t a million miles away from Mel Gibson’s role in Signs, though that’s more to do with the script than his playing of it, I think. The rest of the cast are perfectly fine, too.

The pacing of the film is a bit uneven; it’s a bit slow at the start when the story’s being laid out, then it kicks into a much faster pace when the disasters start happening (the first major one is very effective indeed, and is all in one take; the second is more grisly but none the less well done), and then it keeps going with a gradual unravelling of what’s going on until the aforementioned ending. The direction of the film kind of matches this, only really livening up when there’s mayhem on the screen, but it’s perfectly watchable, and you’re never in any doubt what’s going on.

While I was watching the film, I enjoyed it, but afterwards, a few stray plot threads kind of niggled at me (skip to the next paragraph to avoid the semi-spoilers); why, if the various fates were inevitable, were people given the power to predict them? Since the film bothers to bring up pre-destination versus free will, why were the results of the former all so gloomy? Given the ‘EE’ situation, what could Koestler or any of the other characters have done to show they were learning from the events ? What were the tall strangers there for – help, or just watching the end times? And what were the black stones for?

These questions aside – and only one of them (the first, but don’t look back if you don’t want spoilage) is a really huge plot problem to my mind – Knowing is an enjoyable enough film, as long as you don’t mind a side order of science fiction with your on-screen destruction. Worth seeing at the cinema for the well-filmed disaster sequences (which are suitably unnerving), but if you have a big screen and good speakers, you can quite cheerfully wait for it to come out on rental.

In The Olden Days We Used To Make Our Own Entertainment

And film poster manopods used to have to make their own pretend scissors.

Now? They get real scissors, and act irresponsibly with them.

It’s a sign of the end times, I tells ya.

Classic Example Of Token Gesture Posting

It’s bedlam in Johnworld today, so I won’t stop, but let me just point you towards what, by any measure, must be a terrific bargain of a deal:

99 well-known pieces of classical music for £3 – might be a pricing error, so grab it while you can.

And then play them loudly. Nessun dorma, and all that.

I Tend To Call Them ‘Comics’ Because The Term ‘Graphic Novel’ Could Apply To American Psycho

There are many problems facing the US comic industry right now; sales of individual issues have generally dropped, there are now minimum orders which can be placed before the main distributor will carry an item, comic shops are closing down, and whilst the sales of collected volumes are up, it’s hard to gather the individual issues into a bundle if the issues run, oh I dunno, three years late.

Anyway, one way that Marvel comics recently(ish) tried to attract new readers was by creating a new range of comics for new readers, which stripped away the decades of continuity attached to many well-known characters, and started from scratch. I think the idea was that these, unlike many comics, would be sold in places like Wal-Mart as well as specialist comic shops, but that plan didn’t pan out, and the titles have kind of ended up being another, slightly alternate, mini-line from Marvel. A pretty good idea at heart, but the distribution of the issues seems to have dented the plan, and now they’re winding the line up.

One of the final issues in this particular line of comics is shown above, and you’ll notice that I’ve avoided naming either the comic line or any of the titles, because I want to ask non-comic readers this question: if you saw this comic on the shelf, what would you say its name was ?

(If you said Ultimatum, it’s a good guess, but not quite; the correct answer is …this.)

I think it was Stan Lee (co-creator of Spider-Man, the Hulk, and many other characters) who once suggested that every issue of a comic is someone’s first issue, and in terms of accessibility that’s something worth bearing in mind; is it so hard to make sure this approach extends to the front bleeding cover?

A Little Night Music

I nicked this from Kevin Lehane’s blog (hi, Kevin, hope you don’t mind); a great song, performed across national borders…


Stand By Me from David Johnson on Vimeo.

Good, innit? Go on, play it again. You know you wanna.

You Only Need To Do One Thing To Ensure Your Novel Is Acclaimed …

… title it with reference to something a girl is wearing.

NB: Works just as well for tattoos as clothes or accessories.

Tch, It’s As Bad As The Rejuvenation (And Shaving) of Cap’n Birdseye

Illustrated for your comparison pleasure, the old and new versions of the advertising character Mr Muscle.

His appearance seems to have changed from Clark Kent* to Superman, which is a bit disconcerting.

Are steroids involved, do you think?

*Or a young Stephen Merchant.

This Web Is Big Enough For The Both Of Us

I’ve mentioned his skills as a photographer before, but my official wedding photographer and pal Toby has started blogging.

As well as being skilled at filling SD cards with choice images, Toby’s rather a fan of eastern philosophy and the more ambient end of the musical spectrum, so I’m certain that his blog will provide a counterpoint to, say, this blog, which is all too often a series of cheap digs at things in the public eye, with the occasional comment on things related to writing.

So, hop over to his blog for a less sarcastic, and more mellow, outlook on things.

Now I’ve said that, I bet he posts something brimful with venom and bile. He’s contrary like that…

It’s Friday Afternoon, And That Means It’s Time For A Juvenile Question

If Philadelphia cheese spread is so good for you, how come all the people in Philadelphia adverts are dead?

I Really Should Have Realised, Given That The Oft-Used Software Is Called Final Draft

Ah, there you are. Good to see you again.

Y’know, it occurred to me this morning that if I’ve made one discernible bit of progress recently in relation to my writing, it’s almost certainly in my increasing willingness to re-draft.

It may be because I started writing in my teens, using a manual typewriter, so much of what I submitted was – through an equal combination of teenage arrogance and an unwilliness to re-type whole pages – pretty much the first typed draft of the item in question. It seems alien now, with the facility to make changes to entire documents with a few mouse-clicks and keystrokes, but that’s how it used to be; if I decided, for example, that I wanted to rename my central character, that would have meant a whole lot of typing. And besides, with the hubris of youth, I felt my first drafts were works of genius which required no further work.

Well, after a number of years in which a number of my first-pressing masterworks were politely passed on by a number of editors and producers, I came to wonder if maybe I didn’t have a golden-goose-like ability to create perfection first time, and so I began to play at re-drafting.

Now, it might have been prompted by the realisation that acknowledged genius-types like Michelangelo did rough drafts first, or reading that A Fish Called Wanda went through 13 drafts – whatever the reason, I started to finish things, and then go over them again.

And to my surprise, I found it rather enjoyable.

Granted, there’s something immensely satisfying about getting something right first time, but frequently, I find I’m better off giving things another go – usually by printing it off, grabbing my red pen, and being callous about the bits I’m most proud of. Living each day as if it were your last sounds like a great idea, but I somehow doubt that’s the way to go about making great art (or anything on the rungs of the ladder leading up to ‘great’ – I don’t kid myself about my ability).

In its way, though, I’m increasingly finding that the act of re-drafting, and re-re-re-drafting and so on, is one I derive some intellectual satsifaction from; not because I’m pleased to have found a duff line or a scene that doesn’t really advance the story, but because spotting it means I can eliminate it from this draft before it goes out, and it reduces the chances of me making the same mistake again. And that can’t hurt.

I’m very much aware that this is probably no revelation to many of you, but for me, this more-recent-than-I-really-care-to-admit discovery has been something of an eye-opener, and rather than the re-drafting seeming like some kind of chore, I’ve actually come to enjoy it – I invariably feel that the work’s better for it, and that I’ve learned something, howsoever small, about writing.

Given that I enjoy the ideas stage, and the first draft, and the process of re-drafting, it actually means that more of the practice of writing is enjoyable. Yes, it’s going over old ground to some extent, but I’d rather do that and make the work shine, as opposed to sending it out into the world with its promise buried beneath its imperfections.

(Incidentally, I don’t want to discount the input of other folks here – Chip, Dom, and most recently Laurence have all provided me with loads of useful and friendly comments and suggestions, and I tip my hat to them all.)

And the pleasing conclusion to all this – well, pleasing for me, it may well leave you utterly cold – is that I seem to be getting a better handle on what works and what doesn’t, and that means I spend less time on the stuff which doesn’t work. As much as my past self would flinch at the idea that I could write anything other than absolute perfection, I think it’s probably healthier for me to accept that possibility and find ways to exclude the garbage.

Right, that pretty much covers what I wanted to say about redrafting, so I’ll stop here… though, as you can probably guess from the preceding, that means I’ll be running through this blog post again to try to make sure it makes some kind of sense, so I’ll just head back up to the first line of it.

If you want to meet me there, I’ll be just beneath the title.

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