tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51141677333887026832024-03-20T17:13:58.603+07:00Jason Dean BlogJason Deanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503504193660789306noreply@blogger.comBlogger34125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114167733388702683.post-52933672327504151432016-07-21T13:38:00.003+07:002016-07-29T10:51:03.079+07:00The Greatest DVD Commentaries Ever (In My Humble Opinion) - Part the SecondWell here we are again with part two of my scholarly analysis of that long-overlooked part of the whole DVD/Blu Ray experience: the audio commentary. Or to be more precise, welcome back as I take a frivolous look back at those particular audio commentaries that for one reason or another have permanently imprinted themselves on my consciousness. So having already covered '<i>The Thing', 'Capricorn One', 'The Limey'</i> and <i>'Tropic Thunder'</i> in my previous post, let's move right on to my final four choices - beginning with the Coen Brothers' awesome debut feature...<br />
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<b><span style="color: #e69138;">BLOOD SIMPLE (1984) - Commentary by (ahem) Kenneth Loring, artistic director for Forever Young Film Restoration</span></b></div>
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Over their three-decade-long careers it's become increasingly obvious that the Coen Brothers don't really enjoy talking about their own movies too much, in most cases simply content to let the work speak for itself. And even when they <i>do</i> grant interviews - admittedly something they've done a lot more of in recent years - they don't seem to give a whole lot away. And so with that in mind it should come as no surprise to learn that they haven't exactly embraced the audio commentary with open arms either - or DVD supplementary features in general, for that matter. No, all that self-analytical navel-gazing clearly isn't their scene, and I'm totally cool with that - especially as so many of my favourite directors (Lynch, Tarantino, Jarmusch, etc) also share the same attitude. </div>
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But the Coens wouldn't be the Coens if they simply left it that and didn't try to take the piss somehow. It's simply not in their DNA. So when it came time for the 20th anniversary DVD release of their bloody neo-noir 'Blood Simple', they decided to really let rip by writing a <i>completely fake</i> audio commentary for the movie, even going as far as hiring the British actor Jim Piddock to read it under the guise of so-called movie historian, Kenneth Loring (of Forever Young Film Restoration - a fictional organization apparently dedicated to preserving 'classic' movies). And a bigger buffoon you will not find anywhere else on the planet.</div>
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Which, of course, is the whole point.</div>
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The film itself is an ingeniously plotted and remarkably assured debut in which a sleazy bar owner hires a sleazy hitman (see pic above) to murder his cheating wife and her lover, and finds most of the typical Coens' cinematic trademarks and motifs already present and correct (blackmail, black humour, obligatory dream sequence, shoes, hats, etc). But you won't learn any of that from 'Loring', who instead gives us a whole slew of wrong-headed observations, spurious facts and outright lies about the making of the film - such as how Marty's dog isn't real but actually animatronic, or how a fly that that constantly buzzes around one of the characters throughout the film was actually added digitally long after filming was finished. Or how during the planning stages, Fred Astaire and Rosemary Clooney were originally planned to be cast in major roles. That kind of thing.</div>
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Since there's no clue on the DVD cover that the commentary is anything but genuine, you do kind of wonder how long it might have taken some listeners to get the joke. Although, to be fair, it does become kind of obvious something's amiss early on when Loring informs us that the opening driving scene was actually flipped and shot in reverse, as well as upside down, 'with the actors securely strapped in so they wouldn't fall up into the roof,' and how all the dialogue was spoken backwards - and that's all within the first couple of minutes. In fact this is one commentary that's probably best listened to <i>without</i> watching the film - otherwise you'll never be able to take it seriously ever again.</div>
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'<i>This fellow in the interesting wardrobe is on his way, leaving us with the sad man... leaving him to his thoughts. More chortling as he goes, from the first fellow. Rather a lot of chairs piled up there.'</i></div>
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<i>'And this is the musical moment in the film - </i>un moment musicale<i> - and several shots had to be made so the screen wouldn't go blank while the music played. And these are the shots, so let's admire them.'</i></div>
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<i>'There's the dog again. Wonderful natural motion. You really would never know, would you? Remarkable.'</i></div>
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<i>'More sweat here, very artfully applied. Movie sweat, of course. Not the real thing. Especially gathered from the flanks of Palamino horses.'</i></div>
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<i>'Do watch these footsteps, because these are not the actor's feet. Or rather, it was the actor's feet, but it wasn't, in fact, the floor. The actor was suffering from gout on the day of </i>tournage<i>, and was unable to support his own weight. So the flooring was ripped out and tacked up against the ceiling, then they inverted the actor, hoisted him up and traced his footsteps across the ceiling</i>.'</div>
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<b><span style="color: #e69138;">KISS KISS BANG BANG (2005) - Commentary by Director Shane Black and Actors Val Kilmer & Robert Downey Jr</span></b></div>
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There he is again. Not content with hogging the first part of this list with his semi-legendary '<i>Tropic Thunder</i>' commentary, Robert Downey Jr. has the gall to show up for the second part with '<i>Kiss Kiss Bang Bang</i>' - but at least for this one he manages to give his ego a rest in order to allow the other two to get their fair share of talk-time. And for that we should be properly thankful, else we'd never get to experience the full Val Kilmer experience.</div>
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The film - a great little low-budget action comedy with noir sensibilities - follows petty thief Harry Lockhart (RDJ) after he's mistaken for a jobbing actor and brought to LA for an unlikely audition, only to find himself caught up in a murder investigation with his high-school dream girl (Michelle Monaghan) and 'Gay' Perry (Kilmer), a hotshot PI who's supposed to be training him for this upcoming role that will never happen. As you'd expect from Black, the script is fast and funny and absolutely chock-full of interesting supporting characters, all of whom get their moment in the sun. Oddly enough, at the time of release this was publicised as a kind of 'arthouse' thriller, and as it turns out that's exactly where I saw it. In a tiny cinema in my local arts centre. I remember it got great reviews at the time, but it kind of sunk without trace at the US box office (Black: '<i>Are you kidding? It made a buck-fifty</i>'), and as a result it kind of slipped in and out of UK multiplexes like a thief in the night. (On the plus side however, it got Shane Black the director's gig for Iron Man 3 after Downey put in a good word with Disney. So, swings and roundabouts, yeah?) </div>
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But one thing I do remember is that upon leaving the cinema, I consciously thought to myself (and no word of a lie here): '<i>Man, wouldn't it be cool if they got Downey and Kilmer and Black to do a commentary for the DVD when it comes out? I'd love that.</i>' So imagine my joy six months later when I found out that's <i>exactly</i> what they'd done for the DVD release - at least for the region-one version - and even better, that the resulting track more than lived up to my expectations.*</div>
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And that's mainly down to Val Kilmer, who lives up to his eccentric reputation by coming out with a whole stream of mostly random non-sequiturs at every opportunity. Things get off to a good start when he decides during the opening credits that he's going to run a name-dropping competition throughout the track with a possible prize of five-hundred bucks to whomever gets them all (RDJ: '<i>Meanwhile some of the most important contributors to the film's title cards have gone by while you're jacking off over there'), </i>and things kind of devolve from that point onward. All in all, it's an extremely laid-back and good-natured track from three pals who clearly all had a great time shooting the thing, and who thoroughly enjoy taking the piss out of each other for the whole duration of the movie. Also, it's funny.</div>
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Black: '<i>This kid was actually a stunt kid. You have to be in a union to use a chainsaw if you're a kid.'</i></div>
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RDJ: '<i>Jesus...'</i></div>
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Kilmer:<i> 'And you're so by the book. That's beautiful, that you made that choice.'</i></div>
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Kilmer: '<i>Frankly, Shane, whenever you dropped the ball Robert picked it up. Never complained, he was always there for you, filling in the blanks. He's like cork to your tile. He's your grout, baby.'</i></div>
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Black informs us that the CG bear in the Genaros Beer ad was voiced by Laurence Fishburne<i>.</i></div>
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During the Hollywood party scene where Downey is getting thoroughly beaten up by an obnoxious guy who almost raped the (unconscious) Michelle Monaghan character, Kilmer asks Black if that was based on a real-life incident. <i>'Did you threaten a guy once, and then, suddenly, you woke up in an alley?'</i></div>
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Black: <i>'Not in an alley...' </i>(huge guffaws of laughter)</div>
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Kilmer:<i> 'In Denny's.'</i></div>
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(during the electrocution torture scene)</div>
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RDJ: <i>'Whose legs are those?'</i></div>
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Black: <i>'Those are yours, aren't they?'</i></div>
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RDJ:<i> 'Hell, no.'</i></div>
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Kilmer: <i>'They're Shane's.'</i></div>
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Black:<i> 'Aren't mine.'</i></div>
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Kilmer: <i>'You insisted. Admit it. </i>(laughter) <i>I've got an uncropped photograph of you with the electrodes.'</i></div>
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Black:<i> </i>'<i>For the life of me, </i><i>I didn't</i><i> think that people would be able to decipher the geography of this scene.'</i></div>
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Kilmer:<i> 'Who says they did?' </i>(laughter)</div>
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RDJ:<i> 'I could cry now because it's almost over. Oh wait, we've got four endings.' </i>(laughter)</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">* The only other time this has ever happened was when a friend and I went to the flicks to see the terrific Steve Coogan/Rob Brydon comedy, A Cock and Bull Story. Even before the thing was finished we were both thinking ahead to the eventual DVD release & musing on how awesome it would be if Coogan and Brydon got together to do an audio commentary for it. No prizes for guessing how that turned out.</span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #e69138;">TRUE ROMANCE (1993) - Commentary by Writer Quentin Tarantino</span></b></div>
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It's a fact that Quentin Tarantino won't do commentaries for any movie that he himself directed, but he <i>will </i>occasionally do them for those movies in which he either has a vested interest or that he simply likes as a fan. For instance, he and Robert Rodriguez sat down for a terrific track for '<i>From Dusk Til Dawn'</i>, a movie Rodriguez directed and Tarantino wrote (and co-starred in, but let's not go there), and he also got together with his friend Edgar Wright to do a cool 'film-geek' track for one of the Hot Fuzz special edition DVDs (and which can actually be found on Youtube). And in addition, he also recorded a track for this: the film version of the first script he ever completed, and directed by none other than his long-time hero, the late Tony Scott.</div>
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You've seen the film already so you don't need a detailed plot summary here. Nerd marries hooker and steals coke from her pimp and they go to Hollywood to try to sell it, closely followed by the pimp's employers who want their product back. You know the deal. Except of course it's really the script that matters here, and even in these early stages of QT's career it's clear he was on a roll right from the start. It's a great romance-cum-comedy-cum-thriller that still holds up to repeated viewings today, filled to the brim with so much memorable dialogue and so many meaty supporting roles that major actors of the time were practically lining up to do bit parts (such as Brad Pitt as the unforgettable stoner, Floyd, and who's only actually onscreen for about three or four minutes). </div>
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As for the QT commentary track in question (which is actually only one of <i>four</i> on the disc - and that's not mentioning the additional scene-specific commentaries from most of the actors involved as they discuss their own specific contributions), there's not much to say about it other than it's pretty much what you'd hope a solo QT commentary track would be. That is, the guy starts talking right from the first moment in his trademarked quickfire delivery, and he barely lets five seconds of dead air pass until the end credits. Actually, that's not <i>entirely</i> true. Tarantino makes it clear that he's a huge admirer of how Scott's presented his now infamous 'Sicilian Scene' near the start of the movie (<i>'This scene is one of the proudest moments of my entire career'),</i> and so gives it the respect it deserves by shutting up for a minute and just letting it play out. But that's the only time he does. The rest he's his usual chatterbox self, which is exactly what you want for something like this.</div>
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The real shame of it is it's such a great commentary track, you just wish he'd do more.</div>
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<i>'When they were making the movie, they had the marquee and everything and they had some weird posters in the display, and some film geek friends of mine were driving by and they went, '</i>Oh my God, a Streetfighter triple-feature!<i>' And they came in and were told, '</i>No no we're not showing it, we're making a movie<i>,' and they went, '</i>Oh, this Quentin's goddamn movie, oh goddamnit<i>.' So they walked away.'</i></div>
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We learn that the 'I'd fuck Elvis' monologue that opens the film was ripped straight from QT's unreleased first movie, '<i>My Best Friend's Birthday</i>.'</div>
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<i>'It's kind of great to see my world in this style, because I don't shoot the way Tony does at all, alright. And I've never in any movie used smoke in a scene, and I don't like it when</i> other <i>people do it, but I </i>love<i> it when Tony does it.'</i></div>
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<i>'When I look at True Romance now, I'm... incredibly moved by my perception of myself, of Clarence, because that was kind of me at twenty-five. While none of this crap ever happened to me it's still very autobiographical nevertheless.'</i></div>
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<b><span style="color: #e69138;">FEAR AND LOATHING IN LAS VEGAS (1998) - Commentary by Author Hunter S. Thompson and Producer Laila Nabulsi</span></b></div>
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'<i>Eeeeeeek! Whoooop, yaaaaarrgh, hahrnhaaaaaaa! Where in the FUCK is that remote?'</i></div>
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That's right, you guessed it - it's just another normal evening with the late, great Hunter S. Thompson. Except due to the great foresight of Criterion this one just happens to have been laid down onto disc for posterity. And thank the heavens for that. One of three commentaries on the wonderful Criterion DVD of Terry Gilliam's darkly humourous adaptation of Hunter's 1972 cult 'novel' - wherein a semi-fictional journalist and his large Samoan lawyer take a road trip across the southwest in order to locate 'The American Dream', whilst consuming vast quantities of drugs - this may just go down as the weirdest commentary ever recorded. And for fans of Hunter like myself, it's completely <i>essential </i>listening.</div>
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According to the recording engineer, Michael Wiese, (from an email message reproduced on the Criterion website) the track was recorded in Hunter's tiny kitchen one night at his Aspen, Colorado compound: '<i>The session started about 7.30pm as Hunter was finishing breakfast and I ended up turning off the tape recorders around 2.30am. Very smart and funny man, constantly in motion but never leaving his chair. Cigarette holder and all, he opens his mouth and those words just spill out... I have bite marks on my arm from trying to keep from laughing (I think). It was a sound person's nightmare/fantasy: squawking peacocks, refrigerator motors, thunderstorms, bug zappers, ice machines, phone calls from people in prison, seemingly random bloodcurdling screams, and the general din of vice</i>.'</div>
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So as you might imagine this is <i>far</i> from your average DVD commentary track, which is only one of the reasons why I love it so much. The author is also joined by the movie's producer, Laila Nabulsi, who continually attempts to keep Hunter on track, prodding him every now and then to steer the conversation towards topics actually relevant to the movie they're watching. In this she's not always successful, but that's all right. After all, if you really want to know details about the production you can always listen to the other two commentaries (the first is by Gilliam, the other is by the two leads, Johnny Depp and Benicio Del Toro); they're both pretty good. Hunter's wife/assistant, Anita, can also be heard in the background over the sound of clinking ice cubes or other random noises, occasionally correcting Hunter or adding a detail he neglected to mention.</div>
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The most surprising thing to me is that once or twice Hunter makes it clear he actually <i>likes</i> the movie (and even admits to watching it every month), which, given his contrary and generally combative nature towards pretty much everything in life, must be a constant source of amazement to Terry Gilliam. But for the most part he's not afraid to go on tirades about a whole variety of subjects, taking jabs at all and sundry including Gilliam himself (mainly for allowing his onscreen character to make fun of a midget waiter - something that wasn't in the book and that he'd never do in real life), but reserving most of his ire for the late Timothy Leary, whom he absolutely <i>loathes.</i></div>
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Hunter's mumbled speech sometimes makes it hard to decipher what he's saying, and then there are those blood-curdling screams and yelps he makes just to keep everyone on their toes, which makes listening to the track on headphones an almost psychedelic experience in itself. But to be honest, this is a little similar to <i>'The Limey'</i> DVD track, in that there's <i>so much</i> good stuff here that I could quote lines from it all day, but I'm not going to do that. This post is already getting out of hand as it is. So just buy the Criterion DVD or Bluray instead and experience the glory of Hunter S. Thompson yourself. </div>
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And then mourn the fact that there'll <i>never</i> be another like him.</div>
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Nabulsi: <i>'What about this angel Terry threw in? I've always wanted to know what you thought about the angel with the flaming sword.'</i></div>
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Thompson:<i> 'I never noticed it before.' (laughter) 'Eeeeeeeeeeeh!'</i></div>
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Thompson (chomping on something): <i>'These radishes are arousing strange instincts in me.'</i> (laughter)</div>
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Nabulsi: <i>'Okay. Circus Circus. What do you think of this scene?'</i></div>
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Thompson: <i>'That scene sucks.' (laughter) 'Overall. Since you asked.'</i></div>
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Thompson: <i>'It's a wonderful film. I'd buy two copies of it. And if you're really gonzo you'll buy three.</i>'*</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">* I believe I <i>did</i> buy three copies, if you include the original cinema ticket along with the video version and then the DVD. So colour me gonzo.</span></div>
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Jason Deanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503504193660789306noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114167733388702683.post-40033986480827571962016-07-01T15:52:00.001+07:002022-07-16T16:04:33.649+07:00The Greatest DVD Commentaries Ever (In My Humble Opinion) - Part the 1stWell, it certainly feels as though a few months have passed by since my last blog post, doesn't it... Eh? What's that? Two whole <i>years</i>, you say? No, that can't possibly be right - you're <i>obviously</i> exaggerating, and how many times have I warned you about that? Anyway, pointless dwelling on the past. It's gone. Done. Over with. And I'm here now. Let's move on.<br />
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So. Recently I've been listening to a lot of DVD commentaries on my iPod. Not sure why exactly, other than to say I seem to go through these obsessive phases every now and then. For example, a short while back I was listening to a newly-remastered Beach Boys song I'd downloaded from itunes - it was the new crisp, stereo version of the previously muddy-sounding 'Do It Again', where you could finally <i>hear</i> the instruments and heavenly vocals - and the moment it was over I had to listen to it again. And again. And again. God knows how many times I played the damn thing, but it was like a switch had been pressed at the back of my brain, and from that moment on I found myself compelled to listen to the rest of the Beach Boys' back catalogue every spare moment I could get. Hell, I know what I'm like, and so I simply gave in and enjoyed it while it lasted. Of course, after a while this mild compulsion waned enough that I was able to move onto other things, like reading books, eating, sleeping, etc. That is, until my next little fixation inevitably came along and took hold.<br />
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And so we come to DVD commentaries, my current preoccupation. Now, being a certified movie buff, it should come as no surprise to anyone that I love audio commentaries. I mean, how could I not? They're such a great concept, and so simple too (originally created by Criterion back in 1984 for their <i>King Kong</i> laserdisc, fact fans). In fact, they're the main reason I invested in my very first Cyberhome DVD player all those years ago. ('<i>Whoa. You mean I can actually switch audio tracks and listen to John Carpenter describing in great detail how he directed 'Assault on Precinct 13' while I'm actually watching the film? As though he's in the same room with me? Like we're two buddies shooting the shit? Say no more, my good man. Here, take my money</i>.') And through the years, as I've assembled a sizeable collection of my favourite movies on shiny disc format, the one special feature I always hope for whenever an old - or new - fave of mine gets a release is an audio commentary. Hopefully a <i>decent</i> one, because believe me, there are a lot of bad ones out there - featuring disinterested participants who'd rather be anywhere else than in a stuffy recording studio, or directors/stars/production-crew-members who still haven't cottoned on that listeners don't really want to hear them describe exactly what's happening on the screen for ninety <i>goddamn</i> minutes. That's what the 'visually-impaired' track is for, forchrissakes. Or worst of all, participants who are either deathly dull (hello, Tim Burton) or those who say so little over the course of the film that you wonder why they bothered showing up at all (I'm speaking to you, Rob Reiner).<br />
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But the good commentary tracks? Ah, they're to be prized. And to be listened to more than once. In fact the <i>really</i> good ones can almost be treated like entities unto themselves - you know, like an audiobook - where you don't even need to be watching the movie to enjoy it. And these are the ones I've been listening to on my iPod lately. The good ones. Such as...<br />
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<b><span style="color: #e69138;">THE THING (1982) - Commentary by Director John Carpenter & Actor Kurt Russell</span></b></div>
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Ah, '<i>The Thing</i>' - one of my very favourite movies from one my very favourite genre directors. I was fortunate enough to see this at the flicks when it first came out - with my best friend at the time - and I recall us both emerging exhausted from the cinema two hours later, completely blown away at how good the film was. It's only gotten better with time. Made over thirty-five years ago, the movie's barely aged a day and I find I can still rewatch it every few years without getting bored. From the smooth, unhurried direction to the great special effects (which <i>still</i> hold up) to the ensemble acting, to the wonderfully atmospheric Ennio Morricone score, everything about the film works.</div>
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Unless you've been hiding in a cave you probably know the story already. It's an old one, based on the classic Ten Little Indians premise (see also '<i>Alien'</i>). This time, a ragtag group of misfits working in a remote Antarctic scientific base find themselves infiltrated by a parasitic alien lifeform that's able to assimilate other organisms and imitate them perfectly (see dog above). Or almost perfectly. As the body count rises, so does the paranoia amongst the remaining survivors. Much blood is spilled. Things don't end well.</div>
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Now '<i>The Thing</i>' was one of the very first DVDs I ever bought - if not the <i>very</i> first - and I still consider it one of the best in my collection. And it's not hard to see why. I mean, not content with including an excellent documentary ('<i>Terror Takes Shape</i>') that's almost as long as the movie itself, the makers go one better by chucking in a fantastic commentary track that's since become a mainstay in every one of those 'DVD Commentaries You Must Hear' lists. Like this one. And the reason for that is ridiculously simple. Want to know what it is? It's this:</div>
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John Carpenter. And Kurt Russell. In a room together.</div>
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That's it. That simple formula is all you need to make a great commentary track. The two had already proved it once before this with the '<i>Escape From New York</i>' laserdisc (since transported to the DVD version), and they also proved it again a couple of years after this when they reunited for the hilarious '<i>Big Trouble in Little China</i>' DVD commentary. But the track for '<i>The Thing</i>' is still the tops in my book, and most everybody else's, it seems. Right from the start it's obvious that the two are friends of long standing who thoroughly enjoy getting together again to reminisce over old times, and they enjoy a great rapport throughout. It also helps that neither man is afraid to take the piss out of the other at the slightest opportunity, and the good-natured ribbing is often accompanied by Russell's distinctive, and highly infectious, laughter. No other way to put it, this often hilarious yet hugely informative track is simply a joy to listen to. For example:</div>
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Carpenter: '<i>We're about to cut to one of the delicious shots that the audience was repulsed by. Basically what you have is a kind of rubber creature where Brimley reaches in and pulls out some fresh liver </i>(laughs)<i>. Brimley, having been a real cowboy, had no problem and was trying to tell us what it's like to...</i></div>
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Russell: <i>'He's just skinning a deer there.'</i> (laughs)</div>
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Carpenter: <i>'That's it.'</i> (laughs) '<i>That's basically all there is. Look at how he sells it, he kind of squishes it around </i>(raucous laughter)<i> brings it out...</i>'</div>
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Russell: '<i>Attaboy, Will!</i>'</div>
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Carpenter: '<i>One of the reviews at the time called me a 'Pornographer of Violence' </i>(laughter from both)<i> which really made me have second thoughts about my career</i>.'</div>
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Carpenter: '<i>We're really going to blow this whole place to smithereens now. And now, in comes a tractor, with someone who looks a lot like you driving it </i>(laughter from Russell)<i> Kaboom! as it goes through the stage floor..</i>.'</div>
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We learn that not only was it an all-male cast, but an all-male crew too. There was a female script supervisor for awhile, but she was heavily pregnant at the time and had to return home partway into the shoot. (Although not mentioned on the commentary there <i>is</i> a very brief female presence in the movie: the voice of MacReady's chess computer at the start - supplied by Adrienne Barbeau, Carpenter's wife at the time. She wins, by the way.)</div>
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A beautiful half-wolf/half-husky named Jed plays The Thing in its early stages (again, see photo above) and Carpenter and Russell are still in awe at how great he is during the scene where he strolls along an empty corridor calmly checking rooms as he seeks out his next victim, without once looking at the camera. And all in one continuous thirty-second take too. Carpenter: '<i>Here comes the dog, this is quite an amazing shot. He's doing this all by himself. The dog hesitates at the door... he looks in... he stops... he checks out somebody in the other room. He pauses... then moves, doesn't look at us, as we pull back... Then he stops and stares... and goes in. Amazing work for an animal.'</i></div>
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We also learn that not only did they make up the ambiguous ending pretty much on the day, but Kurt Russell himself came up with the perfect last line. Nice one, Kurt.</div>
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<b><span style="color: #e69138;">CAPRICORN ONE (1977) - Commentary by Director Peter Hyams</span></b><br />
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Okay, let's get the obvious out of the way first. Capricorn One is <i>not</i> a masterpiece by any stretch of the imagination, and Peter Hyams sure ain't no Kubrick, but who cares? The movie<i>'</i>s been<i> </i>a fave of mine since I first saw it on VHS (remember VHS?) when I was but a callow youth of indeterminate age. Call it a guilty pleasure if you must. Except I never feel guilty about liking something, so scratch that. No, what we have here is a cracking little 'seventies conspiracy thriller about a faked mission to Mars, featuring Elliot Gould in his prime as a tenacious reporter trying to get to the truth, while evil NASA agents in helicopters chase after the three escaped astronauts in question (James Brolin, Sam Waterson, OJ Simpson) before they can reach civilization and spill the beans. Let's face it, you've probably seen it on TV so you know the story already. And while the film doesn't have the most believable of plots, it still moves along at a great pace, is accompanied by an <i>awesome</i> Jerry Goldsmith score, and the script is smart and funny, and the cast (including small supporting roles for the lovely Karen Black as a rival reporter, and Telly Savalas as an ill-tempered crop-duster pilot) are great value.</div>
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So when I learned a while back that Hyams had provided a commentary for the US Special Edition DVD of the movie (Region 1 <i>only</i>, folks), I felt compelled to go online immediately and snap up a copy for myself. And I'm so glad I did. The erudite and droll Hyams is a pleasure to listen to, and somehow manages to keep talking for almost the entire film, only occasionally lapsing into silence if a particular scene takes him by surprise by being better than he remembered. He's also surprisingly self-deprecating ('<i>I'm somebody who doesn't think he's the best director even on my street, much less the world</i>.'), engagingly honest ('<i>It's kind of impossible to look at this and see O.J. and not get a certain amount of chills, knowing what he did later</i>') and supplies a plethora of behind-the-scenes info that even I'd never heard before, such as the fact that the rattler Brolin kills and eats in the movie was a prepared carcass that had been cleaned and filled with the rawest of raw fish, then sewn up again so Brolin could cut it open on camera ('<i>No snake was killed in the making of this film</i>,' Hyams assures us. '<i>That snake was already dead, I promise you.</i>'). And the blood was honey with red dye. Jesus. One can't help thinking that eating<i> actual</i> dead snake might have been tastier.</div>
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He also finds time to disclose one or two amusing factoids that had never occurred to me at all, such as: '<i>Some directors have won lifetime achievement awards. Some have won multiple Oscars. But I think I'm the only director who had two leading men formally charged with the first-degree murder of their wives</i>.' (The other one's Robert Blake, in case you're wondering). Later, he confesses that he also holds the dubious honour of being the only director to make a movie - this one - where the two lead roles are played by Barbara Streisand's husbands. Bet you didn't know that, huh?</div>
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But the absolute best quote on the track comes when a parched OJ Simpson's in the desert looking desperately for water while the bad guys close in. After describing how he applied spots of glue to Simpson's face to double as sun blisters while also restricting his facial movements - and thus preventing any possibility of overacting in the scene - Hyams ends with the immortal words, '<i>Amazing how a little glue can sometimes make an actor better</i>.'</div>
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Words to live by, Peter. Words to live by.</div>
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<b><span style="color: #e69138;">TROPIC THUNDER (2009) - Commentary by Director/Actor Ben Stiller & Actors Robert Downey Jr and Jack Black</span></b></div>
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When you think of in-character commentaries (assuming you think about them <i>at all</i>, that is, which seems unlikely), the track that immediately springs to mind has to be the one on '<i>This is Spinal Tap</i>' featuring the three main cast members as the Tap, still as gloriously dumb as ever, and mostly bemoaning how bad Marty di Bergi made them look in the 'rockumentary' ('<i>All the times that we found the stage with no problem - why show this one?</i>'). And, yes, it's a delicious side-dish to one of the funniest films ever made. But in my opinion there's another in-character track that tops even that for laughs, and that's the one for the recent comedy, Tropic Thunder, starring Stiller, Black and Downey Jr. Except in truth, it only <i>partly </i>qualifies, as Stiller and Black are most definitely <i>not</i> in character during the track... um...</div>
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See, in the movie, which purports to recount the filming of a hugely expensive Vietnam War epic that goes terribly wrong, one of the main characters is a ridiculously talented Australian method actor named Kirk Lazarus (Downey Jr) who's playing a <i>black</i> character named Sergeant Lincoln Osiris in the film-within-the-film, even going to the lengths of undergoing pigmentation surgery to darken his skin, and adopting a gravelly bass African-American voice at all times. Known for being deadly serious about his craft, Lazarus even says at one point, <i>'I don't break character til I done the DVD commentary</i>.' Now Downey Jr obviously thought that was too good an opportunity to ignore when it came time to record the<i> actual</i> commentary track for the Thunder DVD, and so does the whole thing as '<i>the dude playing</i> <i>the dude disguised as another dude</i>'. Throughout, Ben Stiller does his best to provide us with some genuine info regarding the actual making of the movie, while Jack Black constantly apologises for being late and chips in whenever he can with some cool character stuff, but this is essentially 'The Robert Downey Jr. Show' and they all know it. And so they quite wisely just sit back and let him roll with it for the rest of the movie.</div>
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Humour's totally subjective, of course, and the listener's enjoyment of the track will kind of depend on a) how much he/she liked the movie, and b) how funny he/she finds Downey Jr's improvisational skills. But as far as I'm concerned, what could have been a tiresome one-joke gag ends up as an absolute riot and often had me laughing more than the film itself. Even better, when the Osiris character switches back to Lazarus later in the movie, Downey Jr switches to that character's Australian voice in the commentary, only giving in and switching back to his own voice during the end credits.</div>
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Now <i>that's</i> meta.</div>
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Stiller: <i>'This scene actually went really smoothly, I thought, when we shot it. You guys had a really good rhythm going with each other.'</i></div>
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RDJ: <i>'Yeah, and we only did like sixty, seventy, ninety takes o' this. Fuck! </i>(laughter)<i> 'Member when you had him smack me all goddamn day, Ben? I 'member like it was fuckin' yesterday.'</i></div>
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Stiller: <i>'This was a fun scene to shoot.'</i></div>
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RDJ: <i>'Was it? </i>(laughter)<i> I was there, and I don't remember it as such.'</i></div>
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Stiller: <i>'How do you remember it?'</i></div>
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RDJ: <i>'As unadulterated torture. </i>(more laughter)<i> Oh, here I come, though. Everybody shut up.'</i></div>
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Stiller:<i> 'I love that that we've actually accepted Robert in this voice for the whole commentary. And again, I find myself strangely liking this guy more than the real Robert.'</i></div>
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RDJ: <i>'You was all over him about the knittin' and how to make the knittin' look a certain way. You were fuckin' up his head that day, man. I don't know how he made it. You toxic motherfucker. </i>(laughter)<i> Damn, you wouldn't let it go. 'Cut. Back to one. Get the thread up. Doesn't look like you're threadin' the needle'. And, like, you don't even give a fuck in this scene. Man, you was trippin' on him.'</i></div>
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Black:<i> 'One time I heard the commentary for Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon. Did you ever listen to that? With Ang Lee and, like, the head writer or...?'</i></div>
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RDJ: <i>Hold on, man. You show up here tardy, and now you're talkin' about </i>another<i> fuckin' commentary?' </i>(laughter)</div>
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<b><span style="color: #e69138;">THE LIMEY (1999) - Commentary by Director Steven Soderbergh & Writer Lem Dobbs</span></b></div>
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Oh, I do love this movie. In fact I think it might be Soderbergh's best, which is really saying something. Granted, the basic revenge plot (Brit gangster, fresh from long prison term, goes to America to get to the bottom of his estranged daughter's death) is about as thin as a bible page, and on the surface the low-budget film seems like an excuse for the filmmakers to play a modern-day riff on such classic crime movies like '<i>Get Carter</i>' and '<i>Point Blank</i>'. But there's so much more to it than that. With its heavy nods to the sixties, and its fractured non-linear narrative and wickedly witty script, Soderbergh instead gives us an almost touching meditation on regret and loss and bad choices and missed chances, all wrapped up in a gorgeous modern-day sun-drenched noir package. In this, he's aided greatly by Terence Stamp, who gives a fantastic performance as the single-minded Wilson, and there's some sterling support from other '60s icons such as Peter Fonda, Barry Newman and Lesley Ann Warren, amongst others.</div>
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Similar to other modern auteur directors, such as David Fincher and David Cronenberg, Soderbergh chose to embrace DVD commentaries from the very beginning and has not only provided comprehensive tracks for many of his own movies, but has even appeared on tracks for films by other directors (such as John Boorman's '<i>Point Blank</i>'). As Soderbergh said in one interview: '<i>The key is to never do them alone</i>.' And so for this one he takes his own advice and gets together with his primary collaborator on the movie, cranky screenwriter Lem Dobbs - who, it quickly becomes apparent, is not afraid to speak his mind ('<i>I'll say, in your defence and mine, that screenwriting is a hopeless profession')</i> and berate Soderbergh for some of the directorial choices he made. It's sometimes a testy affair, to be sure, but it's also obvious that this isn't a new experience for them and they clearly both enjoy needling each other whenever possible. It's that kind of relationship. But as far as I'm concerned, honesty is always preferable to false pats on the back, and it's clear that Soderbergh (who remains fairly good-humoured and unruffled for the most part) feels the same way.</div>
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But not content with that, Soderbergh then decided to take things that little bit further by editing the track until it matched the fragmentary nature of the film itself, in order to throw the listener off his/her guard whenever he/she least expects it. So, like the movie itself, the first minute of the commentary becomes a fragmented preview of what we can expect over the course of the next ninety minutes. '<i>We are rolling</i>,' a sound engineer says, which is then followed by seemingly random snippets of heated dialogue between director and writer. Finally, the recording shuts off and then we start again, for real this time. But later on there are still instances where the audio is double-tracked, then sped up, and snippets are edited back and forth to mimic the fractured narrative of the movie. It's really well done, and it quickly becomes clear that Soderbergh has put a lot of thought into making the track as interesting as possible, and that's something I really appreciate.</div>
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Soderbergh: '<i>Now here's a scene a lot of people have commented upon, which you indicated very clearly in the script, that the camera stays outside as Wilson goes in. Because this is so much more interesting, to see him come out with the blood on his face.'</i></div>
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Dobbs: '<i>Well, yeah, tell me about it. I've read enough reviews that have praised the </i>bravura<i> direction - most notably that motherfucker in Variety - yeah, the </i>brilliant <i>direction of Steven Soderbergh. But that was one of the examples of a detail in the script that you actually directed that way. Thank you </i>very<i> much</i>.'</div>
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Dobbs<i>: 'When I read reviews that say 'style over substance' I blame you. I can't actually say they're wrong.'</i></div>
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Dobbs:<i> 'It's your fetishist nature, and you want it to be very clear that there's a side street there, but you don't want any back-story for the human relationships or characters, but - goddammit - people are going to know there's a second way down that hill.'</i></div>
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Soderbergh: '<i>Yeah, I like knowing where people are. I don't care </i>who<i> they are. I just want to know </i>where<i> they are.'</i></div>
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Dobbs: '<i>I should say I hate this scene too. This Tarantino/Barry Levinson 'Whaddaya mean? I don't... What's a sliding scale?' I don't get it.</i></div>
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Soderbergh: '<i>I'm trying to develop character here.'</i></div>
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Dobbs: '<i>Ha! I can certainly do without </i>that<i> scene. Which I didn't write... Did I?</i>'</div>
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Soderbergh remarks that the movie is 'a<i> series of duos. Everyone has their sidekick. Terence Stamp has Luis Guzman, and Peter Fonda has Barry Newman. And then there are these two goonish hitmen.</i>'</div>
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Dobbs:<i> 'David Lean once said, "Never pop out the same hole twice."'</i></div>
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Soderbergh: '<i>Yeah, he was noted for his short films</i><i>.'</i></div>
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To be honest it would be easy to carry on quoting gems like this, but since it's all like this I'd only end up transcribing the entire commentary and I <i>have</i> to end this somewhere.</div>
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On a related note, I should add that this is actually only the first of <i>two</i> commentaries on the DVD. The second one - featuring Terence Stamp, Peter Fonda, Lesley Ann Warren, Barry Newman and Joe Dallesandro, all seemingly pieced together from interview segments, plus further comments by Soderbergh and Dobbs - is actually labelled a '60s docu-commentary' and rarely touches on scenes in the film at all. Instead the actors - and Stamp and Fonda, in particular - give us some insight into their lives and careers during the sixties and how much of themselves they put into their onscreen personae, while touching on the actual culture of the decade as they remember it. It's one of those rare commentaries that seems to have been purposely designed to be listened to on its own, and is really fascinating stuff. All in all, a highly recommended disc.</div>
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Okay. Now I had about eight or nine commentary tracks I wanted to discuss, and while I originally planned to cover them all in a single blog post I can see that was nothing but wishful thinking on my part. As usual things got a little out of hand and what was intended to have been a simple, one-paragraph, capsule review for each commentary turned into something a little more in-depth and convoluted. So I think what I'll do is cut this short right here and then cover the rest of my choices in part two, which should be ready in a week or two. </div>
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So do check back, and I'll see y'all soon.</div>
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Jason Deanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503504193660789306noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114167733388702683.post-80598551627346553752014-07-31T19:19:00.000+07:002014-07-31T19:19:00.125+07:00New Short Story Cover<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
A while back, my lovely editor at Headline sent me a copy of the stunning new cover art for the next Bishop eShort, THE RIGHT WAY, but I had to wait awhile before I could reveal it in all it's glory. Well, that time is now! So without further ado, feast your eyes on this...</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WCpDnykn6tU/U9d5Di9TI_I/AAAAAAAAAUI/FfiCGByboMQ/s1600/Right.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WCpDnykn6tU/U9d5Di9TI_I/AAAAAAAAAUI/FfiCGByboMQ/s1600/Right.jpg" height="640" width="412" /></a></div>
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Pretty damn cool, don't you think? I really love the style those design whizzes at Headline have gone for with my recent Bishop tales, and this one's no exception. I really dig the wild, almost psychedelic, colours in this particular cover. We've got yellow, cyan, orange, and even a little bit of green in there. Great stuff.</div>
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Anyway, the story is set for release later this year and as you can see from the image, most of it's set within the confines of a bi-level commuter train. I have to admit I've been dying to use this classic train setting for a long time, and in THE RIGHT WAY I finally found a way to do it to my satisfaction. And hopefully, yours too. </div>
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Watch for it.</div>
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Jason Deanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503504193660789306noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114167733388702683.post-5090209237371937302014-04-28T15:18:00.002+07:002014-04-28T15:18:57.960+07:00My Writing Process – Blog TourSo recently I was contacted through Twitter by fellow author Steve Cavanagh, who asked if I'd like to take part in a blog-tour with a difference. The way it was explained to me made it kind of sound like a version of tag-team wrestling, but without all the sweat and violence. What happens is writers are invited to use their own blogs to answer four specific questions about their working habits - after which the blogger tags the next authors on the list, who proceed to do the same thing a week later on their own sites, who then tag further authors in the process. And so on, and so on. It sounded like an interesting new wrinkle on the whole blog-tour scenario, so naturally I said I was more than happy to get involved.<br />
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And so here we are.<br />
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But before we start I want to give a shout-out to Steve Cavanagh, who's a practising solicitor from Belfast and whose debut novel - a New York-based legal thriller called THE DEFENSE, starring former con-artist turned defence lawyer Eddie Flynn - is set for release through ORION around Spring of next year. The whole concept sounds pretty damn intriguing and I'm really looking forward to reading it when it comes out. (Any chance you can bring the publication date forward a little, Steve, so I don't have to wait a full year? Thanks.) You can also read Steve's own contribution to this blog-tour <a href="http://stevecavanaghwriter.blogspot.co.uk/2014/04/blog-tour-my-writing-process_20.html" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
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Anyway, without further ado, let's turn to my responses to the four questions in question. And the first is:<br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">1. What am I working on?</span></b><br />
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I've just finished the second draft of a new James Bishop novella - titled THE RIGHT WAY - and once I've read through the manuscript again to make sure there are no glaring errors, I'll be sending it off to my editor to get her views on it. The first Bishop eShort, ONE GOOD TURN, was only released a few weeks ago and I'm currently gearing up for the release of the second one, THE LAST QUARTER, in a few days - May the 1st, to be precise. And then a month after that, we've got the hardcover publication of my third Bishop novel, THE HUNTER'S OATH.<br />
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As far as actual writing goes, I'm just about to get going on the fourth James Bishop novel - and while there's no actual title yet, I already know what's in store for the poor guy. Thing is, I was actually planning to start writing it last year, but then my publishers approached me with the idea of creating these short stories and novellas to compliment the release of the full-length works, so naturally they took precedence. Fortunately, I was so ahead of schedule at the time that it was no problem to postpone work on the novel and work on those instead. But now, with the first wave of shorts completed (see above), I'm free to get back to the book.<br />
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Fortunately most of it's already plotted out, so once I've gone through my extensive notes to catch up on everything, I should - theoretically, at least - be able to open up my saved Word document, type in those two words 'Chapter One' and get cracking.<br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">2. How does my work differ from others of its genre?</span></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Well, when I originally came up with my lead character, I knew I wanted to play with the lone-wolf archetype as they were the characters I gravitated towards most as a reader, but I also knew I had to make Bishop stand out from the rest of the pack in some way (not sure that metaphor works when discussing a lone wolf, but never mind). Now I've been a major fan of Richard Stark's Parker series for as long as I can remember, and while I didn't want a full-blown criminal like Parker for my lead, I <i>did</i> want someone with the same distrust and dislike of the law. All too often these days, I'm reading books with cops or ex-cops as the main protagonists - and even if they're not directly connected with the police, they seem to be on at least good enough terms with them that they can co-opt their help without too much effort.</span></b><br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Bishop isn't like that. For a number of reasons, he prefers to have as little to do with the law as humanly possible.</span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></b>One of those reasons is shown at the beginning of THE WRONG MAN, where he spends part of the story behind bars for another man's crime - something he feels could have easily have been avoided had the detectives on the case done a more thorough job. That's just one example, although I've also hinted that his ambivalence towards law enforcement officials goes back a long way and is a lot more deep-rooted. Maybe I'll go into it in more detail in a future novel. Maybe not. However, there <i>are</i> exceptions to the rule. There's a suspended cop in BACKTRACK with whom Bishop got on fine, for example, and there's also a certain female US Marshal he'd throw a bucket of water over if he saw her on fire on the sidewalk, but for the most part Bishop prefers to steer clear of the police as much as possible and go his own way.<br />
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<b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">3. Why do I write what I do?</span></b></b><br />
<b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></b></b>
<b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Simple answer? I write the kinds of books I want to read myself. From an early age I've always loved reading thrillers and suspense novels, and for some reason the ones I tended to like most were usually American (all those wide open vistas!). And like a lot of readers, I've always had a soft spot for series characters as well. There's nothing better than finishing a great book with a memorable leading character and discovering the author wrote a bunch more featuring the same person.</span></b></b><br />
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<b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">So with all that in mind, I purposely set out to create in Bishop an American hero (or <i>anti-</i>hero, to be more precise) </span></b></b><b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">whom I could put into a wide variety of situations, and who was </span></b></b><b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">enigmatic enough that the reader would be willing to follow him from story to story in order to discover what makes him tick. Hopefully I've succeeded. Time will tell.</span></b></b><br />
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<b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">4. How does your writing process work?</span></b></b><br />
<b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></b></b><b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">You know, I've read plenty of interviews where authors are asked the same question and often they say they never plot anything out - that they simply sit down in front of the computer and start writing and see what happens. And I have to admit I'm kind of envious, because I could <i>never</i> use that approach. Not in a million years. My mind simply doesn't work that way; I'm far too methodical a person (as is Bishop). So while I admit there's a lot of spontaneity in the writing of a novel, I prefer to plot the main points of the story out before I actually put pen to paper, or fingertip to keypad, so I've got <i>some</i> idea of what's ahead.</span></b></b><br />
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<b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Anyway, with me it works like this:</span></b></b><br />
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<b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">At the start I generally sit down at my workdesk with a new A5-sized notebook and my trusty Parker pen, and begin thinking of plot ideas, along with possible characters and themes, mixed in with plenty of research. And I write notes. Lots and lots and lots of notes. </span></b></b><b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Usually in the form of bullet points. At this point in the game, I'm essentially using the notebook to brainstorm with myself, so when a particularly foolish idea drips onto the page the next bullet point will likely be a harsh, '<i>This idea's about as dumb as a box of socks</i></span></b></b><b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><i>. Think smarter!</i>' </span></b></b><b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">But that's okay. Every single idea and every single thought, no matter how stupid, gets put down on paper without fail. I've learnt that you never know when an old idea you'd discarded might come in handy later on.</span></b></b><br />
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<b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Gradually, over the course of a month, sometimes longer, a fairly detailed plot begins to emerge and then I transfer the good stuff onto post-it notes - one post-it per chapter - and stick 'em on the wall in front of my desk. Except for the last dozen or so chapters. Those I purposely leave very vague, so that other than the major plot twists, I only know how the book's actually going to end when I reach that part of the manuscript. </span></b></b><br />
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<b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Hey, I like to have my cake <i>and</i> eat it, okay?</span></b></b><br />
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<b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">So now I get started on the actual writing of the first draft, and this generally takes me about four months. I stick to a fairly rigid timetable of 1000 words a day, every day, seven days a week, until the first draft's done. Then I take a week away from it before going back to do a second draft. This usually takes me about a month, sometimes a little less. Then, once I feel I've done my absolute best I send the revised manuscript on to my agent and my editor and patiently await their verdicts.</span></b></b><br />
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<b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">And while I wait, I start thinking about out the next project. Because there's <i>always</i> a next project.</span></b></b><br />
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<b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">So that's it from me. For now, at least. If you want to see who else is on the tour, you can head on over to Twitter and type in #mywritingprocess and that'll give you some idea. And don't forget, next Monday be sure to visit the sites of these two fine fellows and see what have to say about their own working methods:</span></b></b><br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Nick Quantrill</span></b><br />
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Nick Quantrill was born and raised in Hull, an isolated industrial city in the north east of England. His Joe Geraghty crime novels - BROKEN DREAMS, THE LATE GREATS, and THE CROOKED BEAT - are published by Caffeine Nights. A prolific short story writer, Nick's work has appeared in various volumes of 'The Mammoth Book of Best British Crime.' You can find him at <a href="http://www.nickquantrill.co.uk/">www.nickquantrill.co.uk</a>, and you can also follow him through Twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/NickQuantrill" target="_blank">@NickQuantrill</a>.<br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">J.T. Brannan</span></b><br />
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J.T. Brannan is the author of high-concept action thrillers STOP AT NOTHING (Amazon Bestseller - Political Thrillers), ORIGIN (translated into eight languages in over thirty territories) and EXTINCTION (his latest all-action novel), as well as the sci-fi action short story DESTRUCTIVE THOUGHTS.<br />
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Trained as a British Army officer at the Royal Military Academy Sandhurst before deciding to pursue a writing career, he is also a former national Karate champion and bouncer. He now writes full-time and teaches martial arts in Harrogate, in the north of England, where he lives with his wife and two young children. He is currently working on the second novel in the Mark Cole series. You can find him at <a href="http://www.jtbrannanbooks.blogspot.com/">www.jtbrannanbooks.blogspot.com</a>, and <a href="http://www.jtbrannan.com/">www.jtbrannan.com</a>, on Twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/JTBrannan_" target="_blank">@JTBrannan_</a>, and on Facebook at <a href="https://www.facebook.com/jtbrannanbooks">jtbrannanbooks.</a><br />
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Jason Deanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503504193660789306noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114167733388702683.post-31800682729314866492014-03-12T17:50:00.000+07:002014-03-12T17:50:05.813+07:00ONE GOOD TURN and THE HUNTER'S OATH CoversUPDATE:<br />
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Since my last post, I've learned from my publisher that THE LAST QUARTER eShort has been put back a month and is now due to be released on May 1st. But be sure to keep the 1st of April marked in your diaries because my FREE James Bishop short story - ONE GOOD TURN - is being released that day instead.<br />
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That's right. FREE. As in 'No Money.' How cool is that?<br />
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And what's more, I'm now allowed to post the excellent, super-cool new covers to not only ONE GOOD TURN, but THE HUNTER'S OATH as well.<br />
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Just take a look at these babies:<br />
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Both pretty fantastic, I think you'll agree. Those designers at Headline have really hit the ball out of the park this time.<br />
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Anyway, the links are now up at Amazon, allowing you to pre-order the stories is you so wish. ONE GOOD TURN is <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Good-James-Bishop-short-story-ebook/dp/B00IXTQ9T6/ref=la_B00B29FUL2_1_5?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1394621328&sr=1-5" target="_blank">here</a>, THE LAST QUARTER is <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Quarter-James-Bishop-short-story-ebook/dp/B00F0LUUWC/ref=la_B00B29FUL2_1_4?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1394621283&sr=1-4" target="_blank">here</a>, and THE HUNTER'S OATH can be found <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Hunters-Oath-Jason-Dean/dp/1472212592/ref=la_B00B29FUL2_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1394620275&sr=1-3" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
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<br />Jason Deanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503504193660789306noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114167733388702683.post-178106270858656972014-02-21T17:38:00.001+07:002014-02-21T17:38:06.209+07:00New Short Story CoverI know, I know, I've been lax in the blog-writing department lately. But it can't be helped. Lately my time's been taken up with writing various short tales featuring the main man, James Bishop, and that kind of thing takes precedence over the blog, I'm afraid. Now the first one to be released is called THE LAST QUARTER and it's due for publication in eBook format on April 1st.<br />
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No, that's not a premature April Fool's joke. It's really coming out on that day.<br />
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And that's not all. I've got another Bishop short story in the bank called ONE GOOD TURN, which will probably follow very soon after, and then we've got the third Bishop novel - THE HUNTER'S OATH - coming out at the beginning of June. And <i>still</i> that's not all. Later in the year will be a longer Bishop novella, and I'm currently putting the finishing touches to that one right now. So however you look at it, there sure won't be any shortage of Bishop this year.<br />
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Anyway, those wonderful guys and gals at Headline have already come up with some super-cool covers to THE LAST QUARTER, ONE GOOD TURN, and THE HUNTER'S OATH, and while I'm not authorised to post the latter two just yet, I <i>can</i> reveal the cover for the first one. So here it is:<br />
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Pretty cool, huh? Just wait till you see the other two - they're even better.<br />
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<br />Jason Deanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503504193660789306noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114167733388702683.post-29439466463053436612013-12-09T16:56:00.000+07:002013-12-09T17:05:24.503+07:00Great 'Forgotten' Thrillers: DESPERATE MEASURES by David Morrell<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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For better or worse, author David Morrell will forever be known as the man who created John Rambo, one of the central cultural touchstones of that decade we all love to hate - the gung-ho 'eighties. Doesn't matter that <i>First Blood</i> - actually written in 1972 - was the only book of his to feature the disturbed Viet Nam veteran (if you don't count the movie tie-in adaptations Morrell penned for the sequels <i>- </i>which I don't), it's Rambo who he'll be best remembered for, regardless of the two dozen novels he's written since. Which is kind of a shame as there are some real doozies tucked away in his bibliography, and some of them quite recent.<br />
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Now I have to say I've never been much of a fan of Morrell's 'eighties output, which, along with the aforementioned movie adaptations, seemed to consist of interchangeable conspiracy thrillers with titles like <i>The Fraternity of the Stone,</i> or<i> The Brotherhood of the Rose, </i>or<i> The Something of the Something Els</i>e. I tried a couple back in the day - no idea which ones - and didn't come away all that impressed. But then in 1990 Morrell came out with the highly entertaining bodyguard thriller, <i>The Fifth Profession,</i> and it was at that point that Morrell seemed to really hit his stride. For the rest of the decade he produced one high quality thriller after another, and all with catchy two-word titles like <i>Assumed Identity, Extreme Denial, Double Image, </i>and<i> Burnt Sienna</i>. And right in the middle of this run, in 1994, came <i>Desperate Measures</i>.<br />
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The story starts off intriguingly enough with a deeply depressed man planning his own death. Matt Pittman is an ex-current affairs journalist for the <i>Chronicle </i>whose life has gone steadily downhill since the death of his 12-year-old son from bone cancer seven years before. His wife's left him, he's on the verge of alcoholism, and instead of reporting on current events, he's now relegated to writing obituaries. Or he would be had he not already quit. By the time the story begins he's finished settling all his affairs and is preparing to end it all with a bullet in his brain. However, just as he's about to pull the trigger the phone rings. And keeps ringing until Pittman gets out of the bathtub and answers the damn thing.<br />
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It's his editor, Burt, at the <i>Chronicle, </i>who explains that the paper's bankrupt and is to close in a week. And with most of the staff out looking for new jobs he asks Pittman, as a favour to him, to lend a helping hand in the obituary department for its last few days. Feeling that he owes Burt for his kindness during his son's illness, Pittman puts his suicide on hold and goes back to work, temporarily. And his first assignment is to write an obituary of a man who isn't actually dead yet, but will be soon: Jonathan Millgate, one of the 'Grand Counsellors' - five patrician diplomats who've helped manipulate US government policy behind the scenes for decades. But in the process of researching the man's history, Pittman comes across some sensitive information that causes Millgate's death and he soon finds himself on the run for murder. Chased by the police and any number of professional assassins, Pittman gradually comes back to life again as his old reporter instincts kick in and he decides to find out for himself why so many people are desperate to kill a man who wanted to die anyway...<br />
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With <i>Desperate Measures</i>, Morrell has constructed an entertaining 'ordinary man in extraordinary circumstances' conspiracy thriller, only with an extremely sympathetic character in the lead role. Right from the first paragraph, the reader is on Pittman's side as we learn how he's determined to exit the world with the minimum amount of disruption to his neighbours. Which means sitting in his bathtub with the shower curtain pulled across to keep the mess down, and arming his 9mm automatic with a single bullet to ensure whoever finds his body won't be picking up a loaded gun. I ask you - how can you not warm to a person who's that considerate to his fellow man?<br />
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Actually, it's a good thing Morrell <i>does </i>make Pittman so appealing as the narrative stays with him for the entire novel, despite it being written in third-person. Which is interesting. As an author myself, I'm always paying close attention to how other writers construct their narratives and upon reading the book again I think Morrell was wise to avoid the obvious first-person POV here. It's a great narrative device that instantly allows the reader to connect with the story's main character, but the downside is you take away some of the suspense since the narrator can only be relating their story if they ultimately survive. So in <i>Desperate Measures</i> (as with the previously reviewed '<a href="http://jasondeanbooks.blogspot.com/2013/06/great-forgotten-thrillers-2-nothing.html">Nothing Lasts Forever</a>') we get the best of both worlds, with a third-person limited perspective that allows the reader to empathise totally with Pittman without knowing for sure whether he'll still be breathing by the end of the book. So, win-win.<br />
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And it's a very fast-paced story too. With <i>First Blood</i>, Morrell quickly proved himself a master of the chase thriller and he constructs another variation on that theme here. We get to know Pittman and why he is the way he is, then Morrell drops the poor guy straight into the shit and by page 60 he's already running for his life. And despite spending much of his time trying to find out why everybody wants him dead, he basically doesn't stop running for the rest of the book. It also helps that Morrell divides the novel into small bite-sized chapters (usually between 2-5 pages in length), which, along with the terse no-nonsense prose, really helps the pages fly by.<br />
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But therein lies part of the problem. Morrell's decision to make this a pure adrenalin-rush of a novel with everything moving moving moving means he falls prey to one of the worst cliches of the genre. And I'm not referring to the introduction of Julia, the requisite romantic interest who's brought into the storyline about a third of the way in, either (Morrell actually handles the burgeoning relationship between the two of them in a nice low-key manner). No, I'm talking about how anytime Pittman and Julia visit another vital character or witness, the interview is almost always cut short by the arrival of either the police or a cadre of armed bad guys desperate to kill them all. Usually the latter. There then follows another fierce gun battle and/or a tense escape, whereupon our heroes lick their wounds and try again with the next person on their list. And this basically happens <i>all the time</i>.<br />
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Now there's nothing wrong with having the book's villains one or two steps behind the leads in a chase thriller - that's what makes it a chase thriller, after all - but it gets to a point in this one where the reader's <i>waiting</i> for the bad guys to show up at the door, which they invariably do, and that's really not good for a suspense novel. There's that famous line of Raymond Chandler's where he said that anytime you're at a loss have a man enter the scene with a gun - but I'm pretty sure he didn't mean <i>keep on</i> doing it. There's such a thing as overkill even in a formula thriller such as this, and an experienced author such as Morrell really should know better. And then there's the whole final act, which could have been structured a lot better. As it stands there's just too much exposition to explain away the previous 400 pages, and it's all stuff that really should have been rationed out in smaller doses beforehand.<br />
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But to be honest, it's really the character of Matt Pittman - rather than the plot - which makes this book stand out for me. As a man who's got nothing left to live for, at least at the beginning of the story, Morrell does a really excellent job in bringing the man's anguish to life on the page so that the reader can totally empathise with his situation. And this is perhaps not too surprising once you learn Morrell lost his own son to bone cancer in the late eighties, so it's clear the author is exorcising a few demons of his own in this one. There's a telling passage early on, for example, where you wonder if Morrell is actually describing himself during his darkest periods:<br />
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<i> So he went home. Rather than take a taxi, he walked. He needed to fill the time. As dusk increasingly chilled him, he stopped for several drinks - to fill the time. The elevator to his third-floor apartment creaked and wheezed. He locked himself in his apartment, heard laughter from a television show vibrate through thin walls from the apartment next to him, and had another drink.</i><br />
<i> To fill the time.</i><br />
<i> He sat in darkness.</i><br />
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Not a bad little passage that - just a pity there isn't more like it in the book. But that said, <i>Desperate Measures</i> still remains one of my favourites of David Morrell's, and if you enjoy a good thriller with a hero who's a little different from the rest, I'd say it's definitely worth a look.<br />
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** On a final note, there's a film called <i>Desperate Measures</i> that was made in 1998, which as far as I'm aware has no official connection to the novel - there's certainly no mention of David Morrell in the credits, and the plot <i>is</i> admittedly very different. However, a major plot device in the movie has cop Andy Garcia frantically searching for a compatible bone marrow donor for his 12-year old son. Who's dying of leukemia.<br />
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Now call me cynical, but that strikes me as a little more than coincidental. And the only time I've ever seen Morrell mention it is in an interview where he said the book was '<i>not to be confused with the wretched movie of the same name</i>.' Now I sense a certain amount of anger in that statement, which makes me think that the moviemakers simply decided to lift various plot points from the book - not to mention the title itself - without actually paying Morrell for the screen rights. Which, if true, sounds pretty underhanded, even for Hollywood.<br />
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<br />Jason Deanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503504193660789306noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114167733388702683.post-79398775171544098482013-11-25T13:37:00.001+07:002013-11-25T13:37:22.226+07:00Interim Holiday Blog PostFor those of you wondering why I've been lax in the blogging department recently, there's a very simple reason. My mum and brother flew over to Thailand to spend some quality family time with me and my wife (and our dog), and the five of us are currently spending a couple of relaxing weeks in a rented house near the beach in a quiet little town just outside of Hua Hin.<br />
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Oddly enough, despite living in one of the world's most popular tourist destinations I rarely find time to actually enjoy the place as I'm usually at home writing - so this makes a nice change for me. Nothing to do but chill and catch up on all the books I've been meaning to read for so long. And although I'd planned to write another post in my GREAT 'FORGOTTEN' THRILLERS series while I was here, I find I just can't seem to muster the energy required. Too relaxed, I guess. Anyway, I'll do a new FORGOTTEN THRILLERS post in about a week's time, once I'm back in Bangkok, but until then you'll just have to make do with a shot of the view from our front porch...<br />
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Not a bad way to start each day, is it?<br />
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<br />Jason Deanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503504193660789306noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114167733388702683.post-36601435090922298722013-11-08T19:58:00.002+07:002016-05-14T14:47:45.937+07:00Great 'Forgotten' Thrillers: HOOLIGANS by William Diehl<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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So after a brief hiatus, we're back with another entry in my 'Forgotten Thrillers' series - and this time I take a look at a classy offering from an old fave of mine, William Diehl. Now I think the first time I ever came across Diehl's work was probably around 1981 or 82 when I saw the excellent Burt Reynolds movie, 'Sharky's Machine' (based on Diehl's first novel), at my local cinema. A tough, gritty cop thriller set on the mean streets of Atlanta really wasn't something you expected from Reynolds, who generally specialised in good ol' boy crap like 'Smokey and the Bandit', 'Cannonball Run' and 'Stroker Ace', so I was as surprised as anybody when the movie turned out to be as good as it was.<br />
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And it still is, actually. If you haven't seen the movie you should find yourself a copy and check it out. Despite being made in 1981 it's actually a great example of a 'seventies thriller, with Reynolds - who directs as well as stars - on top form as the titular character. The guy didn't make too many notable movies during his long career, but this one sits comfortably alongside his few other highlights such as 'Deliverance', 'The Longest Yard' and 'Boogie Nights.' Add a great soundtrack and an even better supporting cast - with Henry Silva a stand-out as the OTT villain - and you're onto a winner.<br />
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But I digress.<br />
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Anyway, it was some time after seeing this movie that I happened to notice a paperback on my Dad's bookshelf one day: 'Hooligans' by William Diehl. The name rang a bell so I pulled it off the shelf and right there on the front cover was the tagline '...from the bestselling author of SHARKY'S MACHINE.' <i>Ah, so that's where I saw the name</i>, I thought, and without further ado opened it to the first page and got stuck in.<br />
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The story focuses on Jake Kilmer, an agent for the Federal Racket Squad (or 'The Freeze'), who has been trying for five years to build a case against a cosa nostra family known as the Cincinnati Triad, but with little luck. This Mob then disappear off the face of the earth, only to show up again nine months later in Dunetown, Georgia. So Kilmer, who actually lived in Dunetown twenty years before, is sent in to find out how deeply the Mob's got its hooks into the area and is shocked to see how the idyllic backwater of his youth has been transformed into an unrecognisable mini-Vegas, complete with porno palaces, strip bars, casinos, nightclubs, and a racetrack.<br />
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Assigned to help Jake get to the bottom of things are a ragtag team of renegade cops known as the 'Hooligans', as well as a hotshot undercover fed who goes by the nickname of Stick. But then a professional killer starts systematically picking off local mob bosses in well-organised hits, and Kilmer and his team have to move fast in order to prevent open warfare erupting on the streets. And just to make his job that much more difficult, Doe Findley, the current wife of the town's most prominent citizen and the woman Kilmer loved and lost twenty years ago, shows up on the scene and decides she wants to renew their relationship...<br />
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Now those of you who've read my previous entries might remember that I originally planned to post about another one of Diehl's, called 'Thai Horse', but chose not to when I realized it wasn't actually all that good, thus defeating the whole object of the exercise. Fortunately, 'Hooligans' more than makes up for that temporary lapse in judgement. Despite being an unapologetic 'guy's book,' this still stands up as an impressive hard-boiled crime thriller with a strong lead character, a memorable cast of supporting players, and some neat twists along the way.<br />
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Oddly enough, it was only after reading it for the second time that I realized 'Hooligans' also fits nicely into that previously discussed niche category of 'Novels that are heavily influenced by Dashiell Hammett's Red Harvest'. Somebody else - I can't remember who - once referred to these kinds of books as 'Town-Tamer' novels. That is, a hero rides into a crooked town or city, and decides to rid it of its corrupting influences by setting the various factions at each other's throats and then picking off the survivors. And this is essentially what Kilmer does in this novel. The only real difference is he's not working alone - he's got a whole squad of law enforcement outcasts to back him up. Nevertheless, he does spend much of his time fending off the so-called town elders, who turn out to be just as corrupt as the Mob they helped bring into town. It's even got a femme fatale in the form of Kilmer's long-lost love, Doe, who seems to jump in and out of Kilmer's bed whenever it suits her.<br />
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There's also a nice little bit near the beginning of the book, as Kilmer arrives at the airport, that put me in mind of Hammett's unforgettable 'Personville/Poisonville' opening paragraph in 'Red Harvest':<br />
<i> In the time it took me to walk the length of the terminal and pick up my bags, I saw a first-class dip from Albuquerque maned Digit Dan Delaney, two hookers from San Diego whose names eluded me, and a scam artist from Detroit named Eddie Fuereco, spinning the coin with a mark in a seersucker suit and a Hawaiian shirt.</i><br />
<i> They were all working. That told me a lot.</i><br />
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Now I've read all of Diehl's novels at one point or another and as much as I've enjoyed them, I have noticed a major fault in his writing. Actually, two. The first is his tendency to constantly hop between characters' POVs. Often in the same paragraph. Admittedly, this is more a personal peeve than anything else, but I've always found it really distracting when you're following the thoughts of one character only to suddenly switch to another character's viewpoint without any kind of break between the two. It really takes you out of the book. And that was one of the reasons I wasn't too impressed with 'Thai Horse' upon reading it again - Diehl did a <i>lot</i> of POV-hopping in that one. Added to which, his plots are often <i>far</i> more complicated than they need to be.<br />
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But here Diehl manages to avoid both those shortcomings by writing in first person for much of the novel (perhaps in another tip of the hat to 'Red Harvest' - who knows?). Other than the occasional foray into the mind of the assassin as he prepares to pick off another Mob enforcer, here the reader only feels what Kilmer feels and sees what he sees, and as a result it's a lot easier to keep track of what's happening throughout the story. Especially as there are so many sub-plots and minor characters to contend with. Diehl also comes up with some choice dialogue scenes in this one too. Actually he's always been pretty reliable at that kind of thing, but in this one you can tell he's really enjoying himself - such as when he recounts the first meeting between Kilmer and the town gossip, Babs Thomas:<br />
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<i> 'Jake Kilmer,' she said. 'Why do I know your name?'</i><br />
<i> </i><i>'It's fairly common.'</i><br />
<i> </i><i>'Hmm. And you're a cop,' she said.</i><br />
<i> </i><i>'Kind of.'</i><br />
<i> </i><i>'How can you be kind of a cop?'</i><br />
<i> </i><i>'Well, you know, I do statistical profiles, demographs, that kind of thing.'</i><br />
<i> </i><i>'You're much too cute to be that dull.'</i><br />
<i> </i><i>'Thanks. You're pretty nifty too.'</i><br />
<i> </i><i>'You're also an outrageous flirt.'</i><br />
<i> </i><i>'I am?' I said. 'Nobody's ever complained about that before.'</i><br />
<i> </i><i>'Who's complaining?' she said, dipping her head again and staring at me with eyes as grey as a rainy day. I passed.</i><br />
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But lest you think it's all fun and games, it's worth mentioning the nice underlying melancholy running throughout the whole novel that helps sets it apart from its hard-boiled brethren. Like the obviously doomed love affair between Kilmer and Doe, for example, with both characters constantly regretting the missed opportunities and bad choices they made twenty years ago. In fact, their relationship actually ends up as one of the book's more absorbing subplots, which is pretty uncommon for a cop thriller.<br />
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After 'Hooligans' Diehl went on to write a further half-dozen thrillers of varying quality before his death in 2006 - including 'Primal Fear', which was later turned into a successful movie starring Richard Gere. With the exception of the aforementioned 'Thai Horse' I'd say all are worth reading, but those wishing to seek out his very best work should really try his debut novel, 'Sharky's Machine' (Dirty Harry Goes To Atlanta), 'The Hunt' (AKA '27') - a fine chase thriller set in the opening days of WWll - and his final novel 'Eureka' - a great period murder mystery that manages to span four decades.<br />
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<br />Jason Deanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503504193660789306noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114167733388702683.post-19743749760700628452013-10-24T13:52:00.000+07:002014-10-28T11:40:37.708+07:0010 Mind-Blowing Movies You've (Probably) Never Seen - Part 2Welcome back for the final (belated) part of this two-part blog series where I delve into the odder corners of Hollywood. All sitting comfortably? Excellent. Then let's get the ball rolling with...<br />
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<b>5. The Salton Sea (2002) - </b><i>directed by D.J. Caruso</i></div>
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Val Kilmer's always been very hit-and-miss as an actor. He's appeared in some woeful crap over the years, he really has - but he's also found time to put in some truly exemplary performances too. Like all good things, you just have to search for them. As Doc Holiday in the old-style western 'Tombstone,' for example, he owns every single scene in which he appears. And in the excellent 'Kiss Kiss Bang Bang,' his Gay Perry character almost steals the whole film away from Robert Downey Jr - which is no mean feat. Then there's his turn as Danny Parker in the obscure 2002 neo-noir thriller, 'The Salton Sea' - and while it's hardly one of his most memorable roles, it's certainly one of his most entertaining.<br />
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The tale begins in proper noir fashion with a wounded Kilmer playing trumpet in a burning apartment with a bag of money at his side, while the rest of the film acts as a flashback to explain how he reached this point. It turns out he's been living a double life in recent years. Once a happily-married jazz musician until his wife was murdered in a roadside dive, he's since morphed into a tattooed speed freak and meth middleman who, when he's not getting wasted with his fellow junkies, also sells information to a pair of undercover narcotics agents. He's also attempting to finalise a major drugs deal with the seriously deranged dealer, Pooh Bear, while at the same time trying to rescue his pretty neighbour from her own personal demons...<br />
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With its hip flavour, cool dialogue and eccentric characters, 'Salton Sea' is one of those crime tales that couldn't have existed had Tarantino not paved the way years previously, yet the director still manages to come up with something that's a little different from the norm. Despite an over-reliance on flashbacks the storytelling is top-notch and keeps the audience on its toes until the very last frame. Believe me, <i>nothing</i> is what it seems in this one. Kilmer's great as the fatalistic narrator with shadowy motives, but it's really the supporting cast that helps make this one to remember. Vincent D'Onofrio as the bizarre Pooh Bear is a standout, as is Peter Sarsgaard as Kilmer's drug buddy. An that's not mentioning Deborah Unger, Luis Guzman, Danny Trejo and all the other familiar faces. A word of warning however - those of you planning to watch 'The Salton Sea' for the first time will get a lot more out of it if you avoid reading anything about the film's plot beforehand. Um, with the exception of this blog post, obviously.</div>
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Weirdness Factor: <b>Medium.</b></div>
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The film itself isn't particularly hard to follow, although the constant flashbacks, plot twists, and odd little vignettes the director inserts into the narrative means the viewer really has to pay attention all the way through. Some of those vignettes are truly bizarre, though, such as the planned robbery of Bob Hope's stool sample by a bunch of speed freaks. And then there's the unforgettable Pooh Bear character, who's obsessed with recreating the Kennedy assassination over and over by using pigeons in radio-controlled toy cars...</div>
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Current Availability: <b>Easy to find.</b><br />
As a Warner catalogue title, this can be picked up pretty cheaply at most outlets.<br />
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<b>4. The Limits of Control (2009) - </b><i>directed by Jim Jarmusch</i></div>
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Jim Jarmusch has long been one of my favourite directors and I love pretty much everything he does without reservation. 'Strangers in Paradise,' 'Down By Law,' 'Mystery Train,' 'Ghost Dog,' Dead Man,' - each one's great in its own way. And even his lesser movies (e.g 'Night on Earth', 'Broken Flowers') I can return to more than once. The guy's made a career out of directing movies totally on his own terms, which I greatly admire, but one thing that becomes obvious fairly early on is that he doesn't really care about plots. And nowhere is this more obvious than in his most recent movie, 'The Limits of Control.'<br />
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What little story there is revolves around a nameless, taciturn, sharply-dressed man on a mysterious assignment that involves wandering around various regions of Spain to have cryptic conversations with an odd assortment of characters (including John Hurt and Tilda Swinton, among others). At the end of each conversation his contact hands him a matchbox containing an instruction of some kind, which he then gobbles along with an expresso served in two cups. Thus armed, he moves on to his next contact in another part of Spain, all the time getting closer and closer to his final task...<br />
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'The Limits of Control' is an existential crime movie without a crime. Or at least one that's never specified. But it doesn't really matter because Jarmusch has constructed a film where the viewer is encouraged to just sit back and enjoy the ride. And thanks to cinematographer, Christopher Doyle, it's one hell of a beautiful ride too. Every shot in the film is so meticulously constructed that you could freeze-frame it and stick it on the wall. And because you're never sure where the movie's headed every scene is totally unexpected too. Plus it's got Bill Murray in it - which always helps.</div>
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Weirdness Factor: <b>High.</b></div>
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Those hoping for a coherent story may want to look elsewhere, 'cause they sure aren't gonna find it here. There's a certain amount of cause-and-effect present, but not a whole lot - and because so little is explained in the narrative it's left to the viewer to come up with his or her own answers as to the film's meaning. Assuming there <i>is</i> one. And similar to Jarmucsh's previous works, the film moves at a <i>very</i> slow pace, which may prove taxing to most modern-day viewers.</div>
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Current Availability: <b>Easy to find.</b></div>
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You can pick this at most of the usual outlets without too much trouble. It's a pretty nice little package too, with a cool, hour-long 'making-of' documentary as a bonus.</div>
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<b>3. Lost Highway (1997) - </b><i>directed by David Lynch</i><br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">To be perfectly honest, I could have stuck</span><span class="Apple-style-span"> any</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"> David Lynch movie on this list - and anybody who's seen</span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"> 'Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me', 'Eraserhead,' 'Mulholland Drive,' or 'Inland Empire' will know what I'm talking about here. </span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">But put a gun to my head and I'd have to say of all the movies in Lynch's filmography, 'Lost Highway' remains the most inscrutable - which is really saying something. And since it's almost impossible to give a coherent summary of the film I won't even try. Instead,</span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"> </span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">here are a few highlights </span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">to give you a taste</span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">:</span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">Saxophonist Fred Madison (Bill Pullman) and his girlfriend (Patricia Arquette) receive a series of videos taken by somebody who enters their house and films them as they sleep. At a party he meets the man responsible who says he's at Fred's home right now, so Fred calls his own number and ends up talking to the same man who's also standing in front of him. Before too long there's a murder and a transformation, and then we follow an auto mechanic named Pete (Balthazar Getty), who becomes involved with a gangster boss (Robert Loggia) and his manipulative young wife (also played by Patricia Arquette). But what ultimately connects Fred and Pete, and who is the mystery man with the camera who seems to control everyone's fates...?</span></i><br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">On the surface, 'Lost Highway' starts out as a noir-ish mystery thriller, but as usual Lynch discards the familiar genre tropes early on and instead makes his movie a nightmarish meditation on identity and paranoia, with doppelgangers and time-loops thrown in just to confuse things further. For those willing to look for it, there</span><span class="Apple-style-span"> is</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"> an internal logic to the film, but it's definitely not an easy movie to figure out. Which is the whole point, of course. Each time I see this one I spot something I missed before and another theory immediately goes flying out the window.</span></i></div>
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<i><br /></i>Weirdness Factor: <b>High.</b></div>
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In terms of inscrutability, this really is the ultimate Lynch movie - although 'Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me' comes a pretty close second. As with most of his stuff, there's no way the viewer can guess what's coming next which only adds to the queasy nightmare quality of the film - that sense that there's something really horrible just around the next corner. Which there usually is. Worth mentioning is Robert Blake's intensely scary performance as the Mystery Man, and Robert Loggia's unforgettable scene where he confronts a motorist who dared to tailgate him.</div>
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Current Availability: <b>Easy to find.</b></div>
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Plenty of versions available, but the 2-disc DVD from Cinema Club has got the best selection of extra stuff.<br />
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<b>2. The Swimmer (1968) - </b><i>directed by Frank Perry</i></div>
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One sunny day, middle-aged Ned Merrill (Lancaster), clad only in swimming trunks, suddenly appears in the backyard of some neighbours several miles from his home and asks to use their pool. As he reminisces happily with his hosts, whom he hasn't seen in a long time, Ned comes up with the idea of using his other friends' and neighbours' backyard pools to 'swim' all the way to his house. But what starts out as a fun adventure soon turns sour as the people with whom he comes into contact gradually become less and less welcoming. And as the day wears on and more of Ned's past comes to light, we learn his life is perhaps not quite as wonderful as he's been making out...<br />
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'The Swimmer', based on a 1964 short story by John Cheever, is a surreal, highly stylized, allegorical drama that examines middle-age disillusionment and failure. It's also a film that could only have been made in the late sixties - as the score by Marvin Hamlisch only confirms - but that's also part of its charm. At its most simplistic, the story tells of a hero setting off on a journey and having a bunch of strange adventures before reaching his end goal, a little wiser than he was before. But in this case a lot less happier. A<i> lot</i> less. Yet while it may not be an uplifting film by any means it's still a hugely satisfying one, and Lancaster - who was in his mid-fifties at the time and had to spend the entire film in just swimming trunks - really gives a powerhouse performance as the tragic Ned.<br />
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Weirdness Factor: <b>High.</b></div>
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There's a dreamlike quality to the whole film (Lancaster just appears from nowhere as the opening titles begin) that leaves the viewer with more questions than answers. The conversations Ned has with his neighbours are all cryptic enough that the viewer has to work to figure out the underlying meanings. Also, the movie's got none of the fluid movement one usually expects to see between scenes. Is the story a hallucination or reality? And if it's the latter, does it take place over a whole day, or over the course of many afternoons (as it does in the original short story) to represent the seasons of a man's life? You decide.</div>
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Currently available as a Sony Pictures DVD. However the specialist distributor, Grindhouse Releasing, have said they'll be releasing a version of 'The Swimmer' next year with an improved picture and some extra features. So if you don't mind waiting...<br />
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<b>1. The World's Greatest Sinner (1962) - </b><i>directed by Timothy Carey</i></div>
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Actor Timothy Carey was one of Hollywood's true eccentrics, and when you consider how many crazy people there are in Hollywood, that's no small claim. But even amongst that kind of competition Carey was a one-of-a-kind. Stanley Kubrick clearly saw something unique in him too, and gave him memorable roles in two of his early films, 'The Killing' and 'Paths of Glory', and from there the legendarily unpredictable Carey went on to become the 'go-to' man whenever a strange oddball character part needed to be cast. But he was also itching to make his own unique statement on film and from 1958 to 1961, whenever he could scrape a few bucks together he went about shooting scenes for his own labour of love: 'The World's Greatest Sinner'.<br />
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Clarence Hilliard (Carey) is a frustrated insurance salesman who quits his meaningless job one day after he's struck with the revelation that there is no god but man, and every man is a god whose birthright is eternal life. He starts preaching his gospel on street corners but after witnessing an ecstatic crowd at a rock and roll gig, Clarence forms his own band and soon learns how to get his message across while whipping his audience into a frenzy. With his growing fan base he decides to not only become the head of his own religious cult (rechristening himself 'God Hilliard' in the process), but also decides to form his own 'Eternal Man' political party and put himself forward as the next presidential candidate. But the biblical God has other ideas...<br />
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So as you can see, nothing <i>too</i> ambitious - just God, the universe and everything in between. But I have to be honest here, as fascinating as 'The World's Greatest Sinner' is, it's <i>not</i> a well-made film by any stretch of the imagination. It's been made on a <i>very</i> low budget and for most of the running time the film is barely coherent. The direction is stilted, the editing is choppy and amateurish, and the cast are clearly people Carey just found on the street and said, 'Hey, you're in my movie. Now say this!'<br />
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But Carey's as charismatic a presence as ever and the whole thing is still worth a look - even if it's only the once - just so you can say you've seen it (Carey never put the film out on general release and for most of its 50-year history it's been confined to an occasional special showing at selected cinemas). And believe it or not the title song is composed and sung by a young unknown named Frank Zappa. So altogether now: '<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 4px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 4px;">As a sinner he's a winner / Honey, he's no beginner / He's rotten to the core / Daddy, you can't say no more / He's the world's greatest sinnnnner...'</span></div>
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Weirdness Factor: <b>Off the scale</b></div>
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This one starts off being narrated by the devil in the form of a snake, and things only get stranger after that. I guarantee you will not find an odder movie anywhere else - this one really is in a class of its own.</div>
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Current availability: <b>Not as hard to find as it used to be</b></div>
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For a long time this was almost impossible to find in any format, but those who are interested can now buy it in DVD format directly from Timothy Carey's estate on Ebay. Just type in the title in the search box and you should find it easily enough. However, it's not cheap and this movie really isn't for everyone - so think hard before plunking down your hard-earned cash.<br />
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Jason Deanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503504193660789306noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114167733388702683.post-20244496115076255552013-10-08T18:52:00.000+07:002013-11-11T16:55:55.349+07:0010 Mind-Blowing Movies You've (Probably) Never Seen - Part 1I love weird. There, I said it.<br />
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For some reason I've always been attracted to the odd and the outlandish. I'm not sure why exactly, but it probably started in my teens when I was introduced to the bizarre world of 'The Prisoner' - courtesy of those old Channel 4 repeats. Man, I was addicted to that series from the very first frame - not only was Patrick McGoohan the coolest actor ever, but each episode ended up producing more questions than answers, and by the time the credits came up my head felt close to bursting. And I loved that.<br />
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Same goes for movies. Now don't get me wrong - I can appreciate a well-made commercial blockbuster as much as the next guy, but it's the weird ones I keep going back to. Because the way I see it any movie that can keep you thinking for hours, or even days, afterwards is one worth watching again. And again. And again. Ad infinitum. And so I thought, as a temporary break from my GREAT 'FORGOTTEN' THRILLERS series (which will return shortly folks), it might be an idea to write a post about a few of those mind-blowers that have meant something to me. Now I <i>could</i> waffle on about those ones I love that everybody else talks about - such as 'Memento,' 'Fight Club,' '2001,' Donnie Darko,' 'Performance,' and even 'Inception' - but where's the fun in that? No, I think it's much more enjoyable to take a look at those neglected movies that have managed to slip past people's radar for one reason or another, and so that's what I've done.<br />
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Now I should mention at this point that I've already written this blog post once, except Google Blogger, in its infinite wisdom, decided to delete it just as I was adding the finishing touches. Which I thought was nice of them. So because I'm having to<i> recreate everything again from scratch</i>, I've decided for the sake of my sanity to split this post into two parts - five movies this week, and then five more next week. So without further ado, and in no particular order, let's begin with...<br />
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<b>10. The Passenger </b>(1975)<b> </b><i>by Michelangelo Antonioni</i><br />
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Okay, this one stars everybody's favourite, Jack Nicholson. You can see him in the screenshot there, looking down at his doppelganger on the bed. Now I admit you may have already seen this one as it's been on TV a fair few times, but as it's also one of the more uncommercial movies in Jack's filmography there's an equally good chance it slipped you by.<br />
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Made back in the 'seventies when Nicholson was pretty much up for anything, the story focuses on journalist David Locke, who's in the Sahara researching a documentary on post-colonial Africa and hoping to interview some rebel fighters in the current civil war. Totally frustrated at his lack of success (and his life in general), Locke trudges back to his one-star hotel to find a fellow guest he's befriended has died in his room. Realizing that they look very much alike, Locke decides to swap passports with the dead man, little realizing that he was an illegal arms trader in the middle of a major deal...<br />
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This, along with the peerless 'Chinatown,' has to be one of my very favourite movies of Nicholson's, who's at his laconic best as the frustrated everyman trying to find some meaning to his life. The plot is constructed around a classic thriller premise, and brings to mind Graham Greene with its assumed identities and chases by shadowy figures across foreign landscapes. However Antonioni pretty much confines all that to the background and instead focuses on the psychological aspects of the story, such as the loneliness and spiritual turmoil of everyday existence. But don't let that put you off. Despite the slow pace which may frustrate modern-day audiences, this tale of identity, destiny, reinvention, and existential ennui remains film-making <i>par excellence</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #313131; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 22px;">, </span>and climaxes with a stunning, single seven-minute take from Antonioni that's almost worth the price of admission alone.</div>
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Weirdness Factor: <b>High.</b></div>
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Although the movie contains a fairly linear narrative, with a beginning, middle, and an end, Antonio subverts the structure so that the meaning of each scene often only becomes clear on a second, or even third, viewing. And then, of course, there's<i> that</i> ending - which still puzzles audiences to this day. Not only in regards to its meaning, but as to how Antonioni actually shot the bloody thing.</div>
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Current Availability: <b>Easy to find.</b></div>
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I believe Jack Nicholson actually owns the rights to this one, and after being unavailable for a long time, he finally consented to a DVD release a few years back. The movie clearly means a lot to him though, as it's the only time he's ever done an audio commentary for one of his films. The fact that it's also an interesting, not to mention <i>extremely</i> laid back, listening experience makes this one a must buy.</div>
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<b>9. The Power </b>(1968)<b> </b><i>by Byron Haskin</i><br />
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Remember George Hamilton. No? Well, I can't say I blame you. He hasn't really made many films of note over his long career. But you know what they say - every actor's got at least one good film in him, and if that's true then this is George's.<br />
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When members of a laboratory research team begin dying under suspicious circumstances, biochemist Jim Tanner (Hamilton) starts to think the killer may be a colleague of his possessing telekinetic abilities. But when he's put in the frame for the murders Tanner is forced to go on the run, and with only the name Adam Hart to go on, he's in a race against time to find the killer before he becomes the next victim...<br />
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Despite making almost no impact on its original release, 'The Power' must have made an impression on a certain David Cronenberg, as a decade later he made the far more successful 'Scanners,' which explored many of the same ideas as Haskins' movie. But as good as 'Scanners' is, it lacks the psychedelic ambience of 'The Power' - the feeling that just about anything could happen in the next scene. Which it usually does.<br />
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The movie starts out pretty strangely, but it really goes to town when Tanner's forced to go on the run and becomes the target of the villain's various head games. One of the best scenes has Tanner walking dejectedly along the street when he ducks from toy soldiers shooting real bullets at him, only to come across a dipping water bird who winks back. At an intersection, the traffic signs change from 'Don't Walk' to 'Don't Run,' and then he finds himself trapped on an empty carousel that speeds up to become a centrifuge. It's all great stuff, complete with freaky lighting and some nice special effects. There's also an unforgettable moment later on when Hamilton's character breaks the fourth wall by reacting to a musical cue on the film's soundtrack! Added to which, the surreal scene where Tanner's dropped into the middle of nowhere only to find an oasis that isn't what it seems could have been lifted straight from 'The Prisoner.'</div>
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Weirdness Factor: <b>Medium.</b></div>
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Despite the numerous plot holes (such as, what's the villain actually <i>doing</i> with this awesome power of his?) the movie works as a sci-fi murder mystery with Tanner journeying across the country digging for clues as to the killer's identity, but the consistently psychedelic tone and goofy plot elements ensure that almost every scene is weird in its own way.</div>
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Current Availability: <b>Fairly easy.</b><br />
After being unavailable for a many years, Warner Brothers have now released this as part of their DVD-R Archive Collection, although it's region-locked for US customers. Answer? Get a multi-region player. Problem solved.</div>
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<b style="font-weight: bold;">8. Seconds </b><b style="font-weight: bold;">(1966) </b><i>by John Frankenheimer</i></div>
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This Faustian paranoid thriller from 1966 could almost be a companion piece to 'The Passenger,' dealing as it does with the same themes of loneliness, identity and spiritual dissatisfaction. Except this one's much darker, both in tone and execution. The story concerns itself with sixty-something banker Arthur Hamilton (John Randolph), who is dissatisfied with his marriage and his suburban life in general. When he's contacted by a mysterious organisation that can offer him a second chance at life with a new name and identity, as well as a new body in the shape of Rock Hudson, he jumps at the opportunity. The operation is successful and he slips into his new role as a bohemian artist on the west coast, but soon discovers that starting again isn't quite as straightforward as it seems, especially when you're constantly under the microscope...<br />
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I became a fan of director John Frankenheimer the moment I first saw the 1962 movie, 'The Manchurian Candidate', upon its re-release sometime in the mid-eighties. It's a fantastic film that marked the beginning of the director's 'sixties golden period, continuing with 'Seven Days In May,' and 'The Train', only to come to an inglorious end with the 1966 release of 'Seconds'. Which flopped badly. And it's no wonder, as it's one of the darkest and most uncommercial movies ever to be released by a major studio. Fortunately for Frankenheimer's career, he followed it up with the successful 'Grand Prix' the same year - which kept the money men happy at least - but he would never be as experimental as this again.<br />
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The story's almost an extended 'Twilight Zone' morality tale, albeit an <i>extremely</i> pessimistic one, and postulates that trying to reinvent yourself by destroying your past will leave you spiritually empty and unable to function. Nevertheless, 'Seconds' remains an unforgettable movie that defies classification (part horror, part thriller, part sci-fi, part black comedy), and features a career best performance by Rock Hudson as the distressed Tony Wilson(!) going through the mid-life crisis to end <i>all </i>mid-life crises. It also ends with one of the most terrifying climaxes in modern cinema.<br />
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Weirdness Factor: <b>High.</b></div>
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On the surface, James Wong Howe's distorted camera angles and Jerry Goldsmith's edgy score contribute greatly to the nightmarish quality of the movie, but really it's the bizarre plot and the sense of paranoia present throughout that makes this one so memorable. Plus there are images in the movie that will haunt you for days.</div>
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Current Availability: <b>Fairly easy.</b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Paramount released a great DVD a while back and even included a nice informative John Frankenheimer commentary. Unfortunately, it went out of print very soon after. Fortunately, Criterion have now come to the rescue with a brand spanking new release that contains the very same commentary along with a host of new special features. It's region-locked to the USA, but if you've got a multi-region player (and if not, why not?) then that's not really a problem.</span></b><br />
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<b>7. Live a Little, Love a Little </b>(1968)<b> </b><i>by Norman Taurog</i></div>
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Anybody wondering why I've inserted an Elvis movie into this list need only glance at the photo above. We've got Elvis in a shiny cyan suit singing to a dancing girl while a man in a tatty and mildy disturbing dog costume stands behind him, panting. Okay, okay, granted, it's a dream sequence, but still what the hell was Elvis thinking when he signed up for this one?<br />
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The plot, such as it is, concerns Greg Nolan, a photographer who's literally swept off his feet by a neurotic girl named Bernice and her violent dog, Albert (played by a real dog you'll be glad to hear - Elvis's own, in fact). For reasons I'm not about to go into here, Greg then loses his job and apartment and Bernice finds him another place to live. Unfortunately the rent's so expensive that he ends up taking two jobs in the same building to pay for it. For the rest of the film we follow Greg as he fends off Bernice while trying to juggle two jobs without either employer learning of the other. Hilarity ensues.<br />
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Now it has to be said this is<i> not </i>a good film, although it is odd enough to keep you watching. Just barely. In a clear attempt by the desperate Elvis management to alter a formula that was no longer working, they somehow came up with an adult comedy premise (Look! Elvis actually shares a bed with a woman!) that's not very adult, and not at all funny. And Elvis sings just four songs in the movie and only one of them ('A Little Less Conversation') is any good, which is <i>still</i> a better ratio than most Elvis movies of the same period. And the Bernice character, despite being played by the very sexy Michele Carey, is seriously annoying to the point where you're hoping Elvis will just say, 'The hell with it,' and throttle her with his bare hands. No such luck, however. The Elvis management weren't prepared to screw with the formula<i> that</i> much.<br />
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Weirdness Factor: <b>Low.</b></div>
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To be honest, this is not a great deal weirder than most of Elvis' post-Army ouvre, although the very odd dream sequence does distinguish it from the rest of the bland fare. Somebody was <i>definitely</i> on drugs for that one. Also, Elvis seems to be angry all the way through the movie for some reason, not just with Bernice but with almost every other character as well. But then again, it's possible he'd just read his next movie script. </div>
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All of Elvis's movies, including this one, are readily available on DVD. You have been warned.<br />
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<b>6. The Music of Chance </b>(1993)<b> </b><i>by Philip Haas</i></div>
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Ex-fireman Jim Nashe (Mandy Patinkin) is driving across America on his father's dwindling inheritance when he spots beaten and bloodied professional gambler, Pozzi (James Spader), by the side of the road and offers him a lift. Pozzi accepts and says he was on his way to meet a couple of eccentric millionaires, Flower and Stone, for a poker match and asks Nashe to lend him the $10,000 seed money stolen from him in return for 50% of the profits. Pozzi has seen them play and assures Nashe that they're novices, so Nashe agrees and takes them both to the millionaires' mansion in Pennsylvania. But it soon becomes apparent that Flower and Stone have improved their game and it's not long before Pozzi and Nashe owe <i>them</i> money. With no way of paying them back, Flower and Stone insist the losers work off their debt by constructing an enormous stone wall in their garden...<br />
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Based on the novel of the same name by Paul Auster, 'The Music of Chance' is the very definition of strange and existential, which is exactly why I love it so much. After seeing it the first time (on video, if I recall correctly - it had a <i>very</i> limited theatrical release), I was so impressed that I bought the book immediately after and was amazed at how closely the director stuck to the source material. Such a pity then that so few people know about it, as it's a real diamond in the rough.<br />
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The meaning of the film can be found in the title, although there are numerous layers to the story for those willing to look. Primarily it's about how one random act can forever alter, and even destroy, lives. Nashe and Pozzi start out the movie as drifters and are brought together by chance only to become slaves to Flower and Stone's peculiar vision, under the malevolent guardianship of groundskeeper Calvin Murks (the great M. Emmet Walsh). As the story progresses, each man is forced to deal with his prospective fate in his own way. The acting all round really is top notch in this one, with Spader playing successfully against type as the seedy Pozzi, and Patinkin superb as the likeable and even-tempered everyman, Nashe. </div>
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Weirdness Factor: <b>High.</b><br />
'The Music of Chance' is one of those rare movies where those watching it for the first time will have <i>no idea</i> what's going to happen next. There's an underlying sense of dread and mystery throughout the whole thing too, which helps keeps you glued to the screen. Much of the narrative is left unexplained, and the ending, although satisfying, is left fairly open-ended as well. As with 'The Passenger', metaphors and symbolism are rife throughout, so that the meaning of each scene is not always immediately obvious on the first viewing.</div>
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You can pick this up for a song on Amazon, but it's not a particularly great print, and its in full frame too. If ever there was a movie in need of restoration and a little bit of love it's this one - but since that's unlikely to happen anytime soon this budget release will just have to do.</div>
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<br />Jason Deanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503504193660789306noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114167733388702683.post-34607638553652714452013-09-27T15:32:00.001+07:002014-12-31T00:11:36.282+07:00Great 'Forgotten' Thrillers: Interlude - THE FAILS (so far)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've said it before, but one of the nice things about writing these particular posts is that it gives me a valid excuse to revisit some great old books from my past - some of which I haven't cracked open in twenty years or more. And therein lies the problem. Because it turns out that a few of those I once considered great reads are in fact just the opposite. Which is kind of understandable - after all, I'm not the same person I was twenty years ago. Nobody is. Added to which, I'm now in the fortunate position of being able to call myself a professional author, and as a result I know a little more about the craft of writing than I did back then. So occasionally I'm sitting down and rereading one of these books and find myself amazed by the bad writing decisions that jump out at me.<br />
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Of course, that doesn't mean I can't post about them - after all, we can't like <i>every</i>thing we read - but on the other hand I <i>did</i> insert the word GREAT before 'FORGOTTEN' THRILLERS, which limits me somewhat. (And yes, I know many of the books I've reviewed fall short of greatness, but in my mind they've gotta be good, at least.) And to be perfectly honest, it's not a whole lot of fun writing a thousand words or so about a book I don't like. I know critics do it on a regular basis, but I've never claimed to be a critic. But by the same token, I don't want to totally ignore them either. So instead I thought it might be an idea to do an interim post to explain why certain books have failed to make the grade, and get all the badness out of the way in one go. (Don't worry, normal service will resume shortly - still plenty more books to go yet.)<br />
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So first, let's deal with the elephant in the room that is Ira Levin, who also happens to be one of my very favourite suspense authors. Now when I originally set out to do this series I knew Levin would be in there somewhere, and I was planning to focus on either THIS PERFECT DAY or SON OF ROSEMARY. In the end it wasn't much of a choice and I went for the former, mainly because it fulfills the criteria I put in place from the start. It's pretty damn great, it's an oft-neglected part of Levin's bibliography, and it's a thriller (kind of). So that's three for three right there.<br />
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And in direct contrast, we have SON OF ROSEMARY. Which<i> isn't</i> great - not by any stretch of the imagination. I can't really classify it as a thriller either, because there's not a whole lot of suspense in the book. And while it fits the 'Forgotten' criteria well enough, there's a fairly good reason for that. The story takes place 30 years after the original, and it turns out Rosemary has been in a coma for most of that time. She wakes to find her son, Andy, is a globally-revered prophet who's finally bringing peace to the world and who's planning to unite all of mankind in a special celebration on New Year's Eve, 2000. Or <i>is</i> he? Rosemary has her doubts...<br />
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It's quite remarkable how Levin gets everything wrong with this one, yet it's like watching a car crash - you can't take your eyes away. Where before, Levin always trod a fine line between satire and straight thrills with his novels, in this one he goes totally OTT and delivers what can only be described as a spoof of his earlier work. And you have to ask yourself <i>why</i>. What on earth possessed him? And then there's the ending, which I refuse to give away here, but let's just say Levin's conclusion breaks one of the absolute golden rules of writing. Admittedly, I never thought this book was all that fantastic to begin with, but I'd hoped it might not be as bad as I remembered. I was wrong. It's <i>enjoyably</i> bad, but still bad nonetheless.<br />
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Moving on, we have GOD IS AN EXECUTIONER, a revenge thriller by Tom Barling. Now I <i>do</i> love that title, I have to admit. It's great. And I also like the retro simplicity of the cover design. The black and red text. The simple image of dog tags and blood. I also recall enjoying this one a hell of a lot when I first picked it up half a lifetime ago, but upon rereading it recently I was at a loss as to why. It stars Matthew Pepper, a Vietnam veteran turned successful businessman, whose wife and son are kidnapped by a gang of terrorists. With the police thinking him guilty of their murder, Pepper resolves to get them back using any means necessary and soon discovers an old enemy from that war might be tying up loose ends...<br />
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Now this one started badly and just got progressively worse. For example, the first chapter begins with Pepper dreaming about an event from his Vietnam past. In great detail. With dialogue and everything. Because that's how people dream, isn't it? You never dream that the guy standing next to you has just turned into your sister and sprouted antlers, or that your foot's morphed into a bowl of trifle. No, dreams always make complete logical sense with a beginning, a middle and an end. Like this one. What's worse is this particular 'dream' lasts for most of the chapter - and it's a long chapter too.<br />
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In fact, every time Pepper closes his eyes for more than a few seconds we're treated to another unnecessary 'Nam flashback. All the way through the book. And Barling's writing style is very confusing too. There are a lot of action sequences in the story and I had to constantly reread most of them because I had no idea what was going on. And the various character motivations are also blurry. Characters walk in an out of the story without reason, and don't get me started on the hopeless dialogue. Also, the main villain of the piece - who's known as 'the man with two noses', yes <i>really</i> - is purposely left unnamed for the entirety of the book and I still can't figure out why. There are just too many things that don't make sense in this book and I was left scratching my head when I finished it. To be honest, I still am. This is a very <i>very</i> odd book, and not in a good way.<br />
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Man, what a waste of a good title.<br />
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What's next? THAI HORSE by William Diehl. Now I really like William Diehl. Back in the eighties and nineties he specialised in producing gritty intelligent thrillers, and I always made a habit of picking up his newest as soon as it came out and rarely came away disappointed. So when I came up with this blog series, I always knew I'd be focusing on one of his and for a long time I thought it was going to be THAI HORSE. Until I read it again. Oh, dear. I had a vague memory of this being a really gripping men-on-a-mission thriller with a conflicted hero in the leader role. Turns out I was only half right. Actually, less than half. Maybe a quarter.<br />
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The book centres on an ex-Vietnam vet (yes, another one) and ex-spy called Hatcher, who having been betrayed on a previous job, has spent a number of years in one of the most brutal prisons in South America. Upon his release, he's called back into action by his old CIA handler to find a man named Cody, a former friend of Hatcher's, who was supposedly killed in Vietnam. Word is he's still alive and his General father, who's dying of cancer, would like to see him one last time. And Hatcher is considered the only man capable of finding him. As he journeys to Hong Kong and Bangkok in search of his missing friend, Hatcher is forced to come to terms with parts of his violent past he'd thought were long buried...<br />
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Now this one's not too bad, but the reason it didn't make the grade was that it's simply nowhere near as good as I remember. The pacing's pretty skewed for a start, and there are too many unnecessary flashbacks for my liking. And far,<i> far</i> too many sub-plots. I can usually keep up with the most complex of plots, but this one got a little<i> too</i> convoluted for me. I came away thinking the book could have been so much better with a stronger editor. However, I was impressed with the first section of the novel, with Hatcher stuck in this hellhole of a prison where speech is verboten. It's a great character piece detailing Hatcher's slow descent into madness and I found it totally absorbing. Unfortunately, the rest of the book is kind of a letdown after such a strong start.<br />
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There's plenty of action and thrills, but it's kind of all over the place. And the final section, where the tension should really be ratcheted up to the next level, is brought to a grinding halt when the main characters go on a long hunt for a rogue tiger in a Bangkok suburb (don't ask), which has no connection to the plot <i>at all</i>. I was skipping page after page at this point, which is not good news when you're approaching the end of a novel. Nevertheless, I still rate William Diehl quite highly and will very shortly be posting about one of his books that <i>didn't</i> let me down.<br />
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Next up we've got THE FOX IS CRAZY TOO, a non-fiction account of little-known seventies skyjacker and bank robber, Garrett Trapnell, by Eliot Asinof. It's a really gripping read about a fascinating character who made a career out of robbing banks, conning people, getting caught and then getting away again. But the thing is, I'd already focused on a bio written in the thriller format with THE HUNTER by Christopher Keane, and both books had me asking myself the same questions. That is, how much of what I'm reading is true and how much is completely made up?<br />
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I mean, it's all fascinating stuff, to be sure. Trapnell was a guy with a high IQ and a bipolar disorder who got off on screwing The Man at every opportunity. Which basically meant robbing banks and financial institutions, often by just walking in the door with a slip of paper and walking out with a bag of money. After a spate of these, he'd settle down with a new woman (often marrying them whilst forgetting to divorce the previous ones), set up a new life for himself, then get bored and start robbing again. And each time he got caught he'd claim temporary insanity, get transferred to a mental institution where he'd usually be diagnosed as a schizophrenic, whereupon he'd either escape or get released and then proceed to go through the whole cycle again.<br />
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It's a great story which not only recounts an interesting, if tragic, life but also points a finger at a large loophole in the American legal system - the temporary insanity plea - while also questioning the validity of using psychiatric testimony in the courtroom. But the problem is that great sections of the book are written as though the author was actually there with Trapnell, which clearly wasn't the case. I'm sure the main events that he recounts actually took place, but the large chunks of dialogue contained in the book are also presented as fact, which I find very hard to believe - assuming the conversations took place at all. It's one of those odd 'in-between' books: works fine as a thriller, not so convincing as a biography. Added to which, it was all a little too similar to THE HUNTER for me to want to review it in detail. But that said, if you can find a cheap copy online I'd say it's definitely worth a look.<br />
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Okay, BALEFIRE by Kenneth Goddard is next. This one I remember reading in my late teens while I was on holiday somewhere along the English coast, possibly Bognor Regis. And I bought it for two reasons. 1) I loved that stark white cover with the two eyes looking out. And 2) the cover blurb compared it to THE DAY OF THE JACKAL - which was one of my favourites, even back then. And while it clearly didn't equal Frederick Forsyth's classic novel, it still produced the goods as far as I was concerned. At least, it did back then.<br />
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The novel concerns itself with a professional terrorist named Thanatos who's been hired by a group of bad guys to single-handedly wreak havoc on the small city of Huntingdon Beach on the California coast as a demonstration against the coming LA Olympics. This he does by taking on the police department in a well-orchestrated series of attacks that soon leaves the city reeling. Fortunately, a team of police investigators and crime-lab specialists eventually realize it's all the work of one man and work against a tight deadline in an attempt to bring him down before the opening ceremony begins...<br />
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Again, this isn't a bad novel at all. The author, who was actually a police forensic scientist himself, gets all the details right, which is a good start. But I found my eyes glazing over at various points in the narrative as the same thing kept happening over and over again. Thanatos would strike, kill a cop or two, make it look as though angry citizens were the culprits, then disappear, ready to do the same thing again. And you just know he's not going to get caught until the very end, mainly because he's the only villain and without him there's no book. He<i> is </i>a great villain, though. He kills, mutilates and rapes his way through the narrative to the point where the reader's <i>desperate</i> to see him get his comeuppance, hoping that he'll suffer in the same way his victims suffered. Yet when his end does come I was left thinking, <i>'Huh? That's it?' </i>Believe me, 'anticlimactic' doesn't cover it adequately enough. Still, not a bad little novel - but once again, nowhere near as good as I remembered.<br />
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And finally we've got THE SUMMER SOLDIER by Nicholas Guild. And this is another bad one. So bad, in fact, that I gave up on it about three-quarters of the way through, which is very rare for me. But by that point I'd simply had enough and just didn't care anymore.<br />
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The plot, what there is of it, isn't too dissimilar to Barling's GOD IS AN EXECUTIONER either, which is fitting as it's just as awful in its own way. Ray Guinness, an academic at a local college, arrives home to find his wife dead from a house fire - although it soon becomes clear she was murdered beforehand. And it's not long before the police suspect Guinness of being the man behind it, despite his being happily married and having no motive whatsoever (but let's not worry about little details like that, eh?). It also turns out that Guinness is a 'man with a past,' and that he was once a ruthless hitman for Britain's MI6, now retired. And he already knows the murderer too: a guy named Vlasov, whose wife was killed accidentally by Guinness seven years before. And with Guinness's wife having met the same fate, the stage is now set for a duel to the death...<br />
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Oh dear, oh dear. This one just goes on <i>forever.</i> It's only 280 pages or so, but it feels double that because so little actually happens. In fact, there's just so much wrong with this one that I can't believe I ever thought it worth a second look. I'll give you an example. By the time the story opens Guinness's wife's body has already been taken away and we see Guinness inspecting the fire damage while a policeman waits to take him to a hotel. Fine. The second chapter has him sitting in a diner while he thinks about his wife. O-o-kay. Then in the third and fourth chapters he thinks back to how he got recruited by MI6 all those years ago and how he handled his first assignment for them. So at this point we're already on page 64 and <i>nothing's happened</i>. The plot's basically just stopped and we're stuck in deep flashback territory.<br />
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It's not until we reach the 100-page mark that another character comes along and gets the ball rolling again, by which time it's far too late. The damage has already been done. And the worst isn't even over yet, because there are more flashbacks to come. There's one instance when Guinness starts reminiscing about his first marriage to a lady called Kathleen, who upon finding out what her husband really did for a living quite wisely took their baby daughter and left him. But what could have easily been condensed into several pages lasts two or three <i>chapters. </i>And even that wouldn't be so bad if Kathleen were to make an appearance later in the story, but she doesn't. I checked. I flicked through the rest of the book looking for another mention of her name and there's nothing. So yet again we're given another flashback that has no effect on the plot <i>whatsoever</i>.<br />
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And that's not mentioning the endless introspection from Guinness all the way through the book. Dear God, it's like trudging though molasses. It really is. Page after page goes by with no dialogue at all, and what little dialogue there is doesn't flow because Guild inserts more internal monologue in between each snippet, in order to let you know what the character feels about what's just been said. Yeah, thanks for that, Nick. And then there's the problem of the Ray Guinness character himself. Now I like an anti-hero as much as the next reader, but Guinness essentially comes across as a psychopath in this book. In fact, it got to the point where I was starting to root for the villain as he had a pretty clear and sympathetic reason for wanting revenge on Guinness - and that's the point where I gave up on the novel. When you're rooting for the 'bad guy' to kill the lead character, then clearly the author's not doing his job properly and it's time to move on.<br />
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So that just about wraps it all up - six books from my past where my memory decided to play tricks on me. And I'm sure it'll continue to confound me, so don't be surprised if another post like this one appears in due course. Hopefully not for quite some time yet, though, as I much prefer blogging about the good books than I do the bad ones...<br />
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<br />Jason Deanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503504193660789306noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114167733388702683.post-78643474052493795832013-09-19T15:24:00.000+07:002015-03-15T12:27:03.363+07:00Great 'Forgotten' Thrillers: THIS PERFECT DAY by Ira Levin<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's hard to believe but Ira Levin - arguably one of the finest suspense authors of the 20th Century - wrote only seven novels over the space of forty-five years. And they aren't long, hefty tomes either - in fact, one of them's so short it should really be classed as a novella. But even so that still averages out at about one book every six years or so, which isn't something too many authors can get away with. However, each book <i>was</i> a major best-seller, <i>and</i> the guy<i> </i>was a playwright and songwriter in his spare time, so I guess he had an excuse for not producing more. And seven out of forty-five is stlll a better ratio than Thomas Harris, who, assuming he hasn't retired, has managed to eke out a grand total of <i>five </i>novels over a similar time frame.<br />
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But let's put aside quantity for a moment and focus on the quality. Just take a glance at these titles: A KISS BEFORE DYING, ROSEMARY'S BABY, THE STEPFORD WIVES, and THE BOYS FROM BRAZIL. Not bad, eh? And each one's a perfect example of storytelling at its finest, with intricate plots that have been painstakingly worked out to the nth degree. In fact, that first one - a blistering account of a young psychopath who'll stop at nothing to get what he wants - I still count amongst the greatest thriller novels ever written.<br />
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And the other three aren't exactly chopped liver either, with each one having imprinted itself onto the public's consciousness in one form or another. The modern Manhattan setting of ROSEMARY'S BABY, for instance, enabled Levin to bring horror fiction screaming into the 20th Century and ended up being so successful that it paved the way for a certain Stephen King to make his own mark on the genre ten years later. Thanks to THE STEPFORD WIVES ('<i>one of those rare novels whose very title may well become part of the vocabulary</i>' - original jacket copy), 'Stepford' quickly entered the American lexicon as a catch-all term for conformism and submission. And the wonderfully titled THE BOYS FROM BRAZIL, with its biological engineering-based plot device, doesn't seem quite so farfetched today as it did back in the seventies.<br />
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And all four were also turned into movies - some more than once (A KISS BEFORE DYING, THE STEPFORD WIVES), some superbly (ROSEMARY'S BABY, A KISS BEFORE DYING), some badly (both remakes), and one indifferently (THE BOYS FROM BRAZIL - which is actually a guilty pleasure of mine, and any movie where the combined ages of the three lead actors surpasses 200 gets my immediate respect). But with the exception of the two remakes all were financially successful, so perhaps it's easy to see why Levin didn't feel compelled to write a book a year like the rest of us poor scribblers.<br />
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So what about the other three? - I hear you ask. Well, there's SLIVER from 1991, written a full fifteen years after BOYS FROM BRAZIL. And it's not too bad - the pages certainly fly by without too much trouble - but it's not that great either (although the less said about the movie version the better). Then there's SON OF ROSEMARY from 1997, the critically slated and frankly unnecessary sequel to his most popular novel. I actually have a soft spot for it myself, and believe there's more to that infamous ending than you see at first glance, but even I have to admit Levin was well past his peak with this one. His heyday was really back in the sixties and seventies, back when he really could do no wrong.<br />
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And right smack-dab in the middle of this peak period - 1970, to be precise - came the book I'm here to tell you about: THIS PERFECT DAY. It's certainly the least well-known of Levin's novels, and that's possibly because it doesn't fit neatly into the 'suspense' or 'thriller' categories that made his name. Instead, THIS PERFECT DAY is Levin's attempt at a serious futuristic dystopian novel - to go alongside such works as Aldous Huxley's BRAVE NEW WORLD, George Orwell's 1984, and Anthony Burgess's A CLOCKWORK ORANGE.<br />
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The story's set in a future where uniformity is the norm, and the world is governed by a single supercomputer know as UniComp, which controls and regulates every single aspect of the citizens' lives - including what job they'll be doing, where they live, when they eat, what they eat, who they marry, whether they can reproduce or not, and so on. And everybody dies at age 62. There's only one language, and thanks to eugenics all the previous ethnic groups have now been merged into one race, known as 'the Family', so everybody pretty much <i>looks</i> the same too. There are only four names for men (Karl, Li, Bob & Jesus), and four for women (Anna, Mary, Peace & Yin). And once a month everyone is given an injection of drugs - or a 'treatment' - to ensure any negative feelings of rebellion or individualism are kept locked up in the subconscious where they belong. No need to think, people - leave it all to UniComp.<br />
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The lead character is a chap named Li RM35M4419, whom we meet first at the age of six. But his grandfather, who's old enough to still retain a certain amount of cynicism and individuality, gives him the illegal nickname of Chip (as in 'a chip off the old block') and tries to pass these same qualities onto the boy at every opportunity. <i>'Try wanting something, Chip,' </i>he suggests at one point, <i>'Try a day or two before your next treatment. That's when it's easiest; to want things, to worry about things...' </i>As Chip grows up he tries, but all too often the drugs win out and it's not long before he's back to square one again.<br />
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For much of the book we follow Chip's growth as he matures into adulthood. He works in genetic science in some capacity and as the years pass he goes through a variety of girlfriends, each one no different from the last. And while on the surface he's a 'good Family member' like the rest of the walking dead, he does occasionally commit minor subversive acts that suggest there's something in there that the drugs can't totally subdue. These odd character 'faults' soon bring him to the attention of a secret group of likeminded nonconformists who meet in an old museum to smoke and have sex, and show him a way to avoid his regular treatments without alerting UniComp, so that he can start feeling stronger emotions again.<br />
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Upon finally 'waking up' to his true potential, Chip becomes attracted to another one in the group, Lilac, and starts seriously questioning the way this 'perfect' society functions. Finding old maps in the museum, they discover that there might be a few small islands dotted around that are entirely free of UniComp's influence...<br />
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Other than one pretty major misstep two-thirds of the way in, Levin's THIS PERFECT DAY is an enthralling novel that succeeds on just about every level. It's accessible and exciting enough to work as popular genre fiction, but it also stands up remarkably well against its more 'literary' counterparts mentioned above. It also helps that Levin's really more concerned with ideas than anything else. And in contrast to the other major dystopian novels, he does a much better job at predicting a possible future based on our own world history. We already live in a society where the computer takes up a large part of our daily existence, whether it be in the form of a laptop or a smart phone, so how many more steps until they start making decisions for us too? And the insistence on 'socially acceptable behaviour' that lays at the heart of the novel is only a few steps beyond the 'politically-correct' world we live in now.<br />
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Levin also does a great job of pacing the book, and lays his plans out in clear language on the contents page. Part one is titled, 'Growing Up.' Part two is 'Coming Alive.' Part three is 'Getting Away,' and the final part is 'Fighting Back.' Like a good magician showing his open palms at the beginning of a trick, Levin shows us what he's got planned: this is what's going to happen, then this, then that. But none of it takes place in the manner the reader expects - Levin's too great a storyteller to do the obvious. Anytime the reader expects Chip to go one way, events conspire to force him in another direction.<br />
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The author also utilizes his patented technique of itemising the particulars of everyday life to denote the passing of time - very important in a novel covering a thirty year period - thus adding that extra element of realism to an otherwise fantastic story. He used the same method with ROSEMARY'S BABY and THE STEPFORD WIVES - just one of the many ways Levin sucks you into the narrative and makes you believe it. And, of course, there's the arch dialogue, which is often clever without being showy. Such as when Chip's grandfather, Papa Jan - perhaps the most likeable character in the story - takes a very young Chip for a walk in the park near the start of the book:<br />
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<i> He was always saying things vigorously and with enthusiasm and yet giving Chip the feeling that he didn't mean them at all, that he meant in fact their exact opposites. On that subject of names, for instance:</i><br />
<i> </i><i>'Marvelous! Wonderful!' he said. 'Four names for boys, four names for girls. What could be more friction-free, more everyone-the-same? Everybody would name boys after Christ, Marx, Wood, or Wei anyway, wouldn't they?'</i><br />
<i> </i><i>'Yes,' Chip said.</i><br />
<i> </i><i>'Of course!' Papa Jan said. 'And if Uni gives out four names for boys it has to give out four names for girls too, right? Listen, in my day - are you listening? - in my day there were over twenty different names for boys alone. And in my father's time there were even more, maybe forty or fifty! Isn't that ridiculous? All those different names when members themselves are exactly the same and interchangeable? Isn't that the silliest thing you ever heard of?'</i><br />
<i> </i><i>And Chip nodded, confused, feeling that Papa Jan meant the opposite, that somehow it wasn't silly and ridiculous to have forty or fifty different names for boys alone.</i><br />
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And at other times the dialogue is intentionally hilarious in its banality, as when a drug-free and clear-thinking Chip needs to gain access to a closed-off section of the airport and has to dumb down in order to pass himself off as a normal brain-dead worker:<br />
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<i> He </i>(Chip) <i>false-touched a scanner and went into a room where coveralls, ordinary ones, hung on hooks, and two members were taking off orange ones. 'Hello,' he said.</i><br />
<i> </i><i>'Hello,' they both said.</i><br />
<i> </i><i>He went to a closet door and slid it open; a floor polisher and bottles of green liquid were inside.</i><br />
<i> </i><i>'Where are the cuvs?' he asked.</i><br />
<i> </i><i>'In there,' one of the members said, nodding at another closet.</i><br />
<i> </i><i>He went to it and opened it. Orange coveralls were on shelves, orange toeguards, pairs of heavy orange gloves.</i><br />
<i> </i><i>'Where did you come from?' the member asked.</i><br />
<i> </i><i>'RUS50937.' he said, taking a pair of coveralls and a pair of toeguards. 'We kept the cuvs in there.'</i><br />
<i> 'They're supposed to be in </i>there<i>,' the member said, closing white overalls.</i><br />
<i> </i><i>'I've been in Rus,' the other member, a woman, said, 'I had two assignments there; first four years and then three years.'</i><br />
<i> </i><i>He took his time putting on the toeguards, finishing as the two members chuted their orange coveralls and went out</i>.<br />
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Great stuff indeed. Because it's during these sections that you can picture a whole society of male and female Homer Simpsons talking meaningless crap to one another for all eternity, and <i>that</i>, folks, is a very scary concept.<br />
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Ah, but all is not perfect in THIS PERFECT DAY - after all, didn't I mention a major misstep a few paragraphs ago? I'll try to keep the details as vague as I can so as not to spoil the plot, but about two-thirds of the way in, there's a scene where Chip and a previous girlfriend have a major blowup and he ends up raping her. Naturally, the woman is pretty traumatised by the incident, not to mention very angry. And Chip immediately feels guilty and gets teary-eyed, as well he should. But the problem arises the next morning when this woman, who's previously been portrayed as an intelligent person with strong character and a healthy amount of common sense, decides the rape wasn't as bad as all that really, and that maybe Chip deserves a second chance.<br />
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What? Seriously, Ira? Is that what happens after a woman's raped? Because I kind of doubt it myself. I have to say it's a real puzzler of a scene - especially coming from Levin, who's always specialized in creating believable and strong female characters. Is this really the same guy who gave us the tough, resourceful Ellen from A KISS BEFORE DYING (in the early 'fifties, no less!), or Joanna from THE STEPFORD WIVES, or even Kay from SLIVER? Because on this evidence it seems hard to believe.<br />
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Thinking about it, I wouldn't be at all surprised if that was part of the reason why this book was out of print for so many years after its initial publication. Maybe Levin reread the thing, got to that morning-after scene and thought, '<i>Shit, what the hell was I thinking?</i>' and decided to simply let the book go quietly out of print instead. Who knows - it's certainly possible. Or maybe that's just wishful thinking on my part.<br />
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Anyway, assuming one can get past that serious blunder, anybody reading this book will find much to enjoy. They'll witness a master suspense writer spreading his wings a little and showing the 'big boys' what he can do. And there's a definite conclusion to the story too - a good one with plenty of suspense - which you don't often get in these kinds of novels. But Levin doesn't wrap everything up neatly with a ribbon either. The reader's still left with enough loose ends to be left thinking about the book for awhile afterwards, which is really all anybody can ask for in a novel.<br />
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<br />Jason Deanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503504193660789306noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114167733388702683.post-16897539933897645642013-09-06T16:45:00.000+07:002015-03-15T12:26:23.686+07:00Great 'Forgotten' Thrillers: BLUE CITY by Ross MacDonald<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Ask any serious crime fiction aficionado to make a list of the genre's most influential novels and I'll wager Dashiell Hammett's RED HARVEST will be somewhere near the top. If not at the<i> very</i> top. First published in 1929, this violent tale of a nameless private detective who decides to clean up a corrupt town by setting the various controlling factions against each other set the bar for generations of writers and moviemakers to come, and was even listed in TIME's list of 100 Most Important Books of the 20th Century. I know it's the most important book in <i>my </i>life, and has been ever since I picked up a tattered paperback copy at a used book sale half a lifetime ago. I generally make a point of rereading it every couple of years and always come away satisfied - it's one of those novels that simply works on<i> every</i> level.<br />
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For some reason (possibly due to rights issues) there's never been a straight movie adaptation of the book, but in 1960 the great Japanese director, Akira Kurosawa, poached the basic plot (as well as the man-with-no-name protagonist) for his samurai western YOJIMBO, and a classic movie was born. The great Italian director, Sergio Leone, then did the same four years later with A FISTFUL FOR DOLLARS, which not only launched Clint Eastwood's career but spawned a whole sub-genre of Spaghetti Westerns to boot. Thirty years after that, Walter Hill then made his own loose version - LAST MAN STANDING, starring Bruce Willis - and this time went so far as to set it in the same time frame as the original novel. And if you look closely, you can also find similar homages in the Coen Brothers' MILLER'S CROSSING and the first half of George Miller's MAD MAX BEYOND THUNDERDOME.<br />
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But the book's influence hasn't just been restricted to the cinema. Over the years, a number of crime authors have also used the book's basic premise as a starting point for their own novels. For instance, the late, great Donald Westlake made no secret of his admiration for Hammett's masterpiece and used the 'cleaning-up-the-corrupt-town' formula on at least two occasions. The first, a fairly hard-boiled P.I. thriller called KILLING TIME, shows a youngish writer still learning his craft, but is still enjoyable for all that. But his second attempt, BUTCHER'S MOON, written under his Richard Stark persona and starring his series character Parker, is a total success and still stands as one of the high-points in that much-loved series.<br />
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In 1970, Britain's Ted Lewis also took a stab at it, making the protagonist of his version a mob enforcer and changing the setting to Doncaster, England. The resulting novel, JACK'S RETURN HOME, is not only an excellent piece of work in its own right, but spawned two prequels and one of the best gangster movies ever made: GET CARTER.<br />
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And then there's BLUE CITY by Ross MacDonald - the focus of this post, if you remember. MacDonald, of course, is better known these days for his long running series of novels starring private eye, Lew Archer (beginning with THE MOVING TARGET in 1949). But he also wrote several standalone thrillers before that, and this little gem from 1947 was one of them.<br />
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Originally published under the author's real name, Kenneth Millar, BLUE CITY is written in first-person from the viewpoint of John Weather, a twenty-two-year old veteran who returns to his home town after the war only to discover his estranged father was murdered two years previously, and that nobody seems particularly interested in tracking down the killer. So Weather immediately takes it upon himself to uncover the truth and soon finds himself mixing it up with a variety of drug dealers, enforcers, pimps, hookers, crime bosses, shady businessmen, local government officials and a crooked police force. Not to mention a stepmother he never even knew existed. And all of them have their own reasons for wanted the past to stay dead and buried...<br />
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At only 165 pages, BLUE CITY is the very definition of a lean and mean thriller. The whole book takes place over a 24-hour period too, which only adds to the frantic pace. It's also an extremely angry book, starring a young man with a big hate on for the post-war depravity and small-town corruption he sees all around him. A view the author clearly shared at the time of writing. As MacDonald wrote in a 1952 letter to his publisher, '<i>(Blue City) was about a town where I had suffered, and several of the characters were based on people I hated.</i>'<br />
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Considering it was only his third novel, it's a remarkably confident book. The pace and plot remain strong throughout and MacDonald's great descriptive powers are already in evidence, such as when Weather goes into a pool hall and spots the guy he's there to meet: - '<i>He had white hair and a goose-flesh face as white as typewriter paper. The outer corners of his pale-pink eyes drooped towards the corner of his mouth, as if his face had been parted in the middle and combed downwards.' - </i>Now that's some nice imagery there. Granted, it's a little pulpy and those two metaphors are a little<i> too</i> Chandler-esque for their own good, but it's still concise and well-written and gives the reader just enough visual information to picture the guy.<br />
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MacDonald's gift for snappy dialogue is also present right from the start. Weather's barely gotten off the bus when he decides to grab a beer in the nearest bar, and then he's forced to wait while the bartender (named Henry) tries to impress a couple of female customers:<br />
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<i>I rapped on the bar with a quarter.</i><br />
<i> 'Somebody's getting impatient,' Henry said. 'When somebody gets impatient that makes me nervous. When I'm nervous I'm no damn good for anything at all.'</i><br />
<i> 'A bottle of beer,' I said.</i><br />
<i> 'Look at my hand,' Henry said. 'It's trembling like a leaf.' He held out a big gray hand and smiled down at it. 'Beer, you say?'</i><br />
<i> 'If this place is still in business.'</i><br />
<i> He took a bottle out of the cooler, uncapped it, and shuffled along the bar towards me.</i><br />
<i> He looked at me with potential dislike. 'What's the matter, you got no sense of humor?'</i><br />
<i> 'Sure, but I checked it in another town. Go right on being sidesplitting for your friends.'</i><br />
<i> 'You're a stranger in town, aren't you? Maybe you just don't know how we talk around here.'</i><br />
<i> 'I'm learning fast.'</i><br />
<i> 'You can't learn too fast.'</i><br />
<i> 'Do you serve glasses with your beer? I'll have one.'</i><br />
<i> 'Olive or maraschino?'</i><br />
<i> 'Just dip your thumb in it when you pour it.'</i><br />
<i> 'Pour it yourself.'</i><br />
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It's a great scene, with the dialogue treading a fine line between realism and movie-talk. However, there are other instances where MacDonald breaks the barrier and goes <i>entirely</i> Hollywood, producing the kind of dialogue you'd expect from a Bogart and Bacall movie. Such as this exchange between Weather and a dance-hall girl named Carla:<br />
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<i> 'A nice boy like you,' she recited, ' shouldn't be sitting all by his lonesome.'</i><br />
<i> 'A nice girl like you shouldn't be wasting her time on a guy like me.'</i><br />
<i> 'Why? What's the matter with you? I think you're kind of cute.'</i><br />
<i> 'You flatter me.'</i><br />
<i> 'Sure. Now that I've flattered you, you can buy me a drink.'</i><br />
<i> I said: 'The approach abrupt. Do I look well heeled?'</i><br />
<i> 'Appearances are so deceptive.'</i><br />
<i> 'In your case, for example. You've got your face made up to suit this joint. Protective coloration, they call it in biology.'</i><br />
<i> 'Kid me some more,' she said flatly. 'You can if you buy me a drink. Biology is a very interesting subject.'</i><br />
<i> 'I like my biology experimental. Not cut and dried.'</i><br />
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Now that's a nice little exchange but its cleverness almost works against the novel. It's a little too knowing, with each character sounding like they're playing a role rather than just being themselves. Because I'm pretty sure nobody ever talked like that in real life, not even in the forties. <i>'The approach abrupt'</i>? I mean, come on. And it also highlights another minor problem, which is that Weather is clearly portrayed as someone a lot older than his years. Halfway through the book, I had to go back to the first few pages and make sure I'd read it right that he was only twenty-two. I can't speak for anybody else, but I know for a fact that I was never<i> that</i> cool or eloquent at that age. Not even when I was drunk.<br />
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But those little quibbles aside, BLUE CITY still holds up as a fantastic little thriller from a master of the genre, and therefore gets my full recommendation.<br />
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<br />Jason Deanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503504193660789306noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114167733388702683.post-53843766176767151592013-08-29T16:42:00.001+07:002014-04-29T15:12:35.111+07:00Great 'Forgotten' Thrillers: FIGURES IN A LANDSCAPE by Barry England<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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In an unnamed Asian country two western soldiers, MacConnachie and Ansell, escape from a column of marching POWs and make a run for it. Their goal is to make it across the hostile alien territory and reach the mountains, and safety, four hundred miles away. Yet all the while they're shadowed by an enemy helicopter, piloted by a nameless nemesis who's able to outguess their every move and mark their position for the ground troops chasing them down below...<br />
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And that's pretty much it as far as the plot's concerned. But that's really all that's needed because what we've got here is a great example of the existential chase thriller (the generic title kind of clues you in on the existential part). And while it may not be in the same league as Alfred Camus's classic, 'The Stranger,' I have to say this 1968 novel from Barry England gives that old warhorse a good run for its money (ahem) in the suspense stakes. For a start, it's a lot more gripping - and England doesn't waste any time diving into the action, either. In the very first paragraph, we see MacConnachie sidling up to Ansell with a curt, <i>'If I go left, will you come?'</i> And then we're off the races for the whole rest of the book. Literally.<br />
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To be honest, everything is stripped down to such a level that I'm surprised the author even bothered to name his two protagonists - although maybe he thought that would be a little <i>too </i>minimalist, even for him. Still, we're not given their first names, and we're told almost nothing of their pasts or backgrounds either. England clearly doesn't want any unnecessary baggage getting in the way of his story. The past is irrelevant. Only the present matters. Survival is everything.<br />
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As it is, all we know about MacConacchie is that he's the older and more decisive of the two, that he's a professional soldier - possibly an NCO of some kind - who generally trusts his instincts and his years of experience to get him out of dangerous situations. Ansell's much younger, possibly still a teenager. But he's also smart, educated and insightful, with a natural-born knack for problem-solving. So clearly two opposites: the thinker and the doer. And it's through these two disparate characters that England's then able to go on and explore the whole spectrum of human experience. Despair, hope, self-belief, friendship, physical and mental adversity. All that good stuff we writers love. And readers too, of course.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span">As for the other details, we know there's a war going on between east and west, but we don't know the countries involved. The enemy, whether they be civilian or military, are simply referred to as 'Goons' all the way through. The US and Vietnam, maybe? Who knows? England certainly isn't saying. In fact, I'm only guessing that it's set in the east at all. The only clues are the references to the torrential rain seasons, which could equate to monsoons. And there's also a brief reference to the dark skin of a native boy. And it's mentioned more than once that our two heroes look different to the indigenous peoples. </span><span class="Apple-style-span">But to be honest, it could be anywhere. And it's immaterial anyway. It's really the relationship between the two main characters that matters the most. And the chase, of course.</span><br />
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For the rest of the book, we follow these two outsiders as they face one obstacle after another in their hopeless bid for freedom. And that's another thing. England makes it clear from the start that the situation <i>is</i> hopeless. That there won't be any happy endings. As the book progresses and their options narrow and their supplies dwindle down to nothing, it only becomes more and more obvious to them.<br />
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And the main reason for that is the presence of the third character, the enemy helicopter pilot chasing them. We never see his face or hear his thoughts, but he possesses an almost supernatural ability to locate MacConnachie and Ansell each time he returns from refueling. And then the game starts all over again. Duck and dive. Hide and seek. Hit and run. MacConnachie even gradually begins to respect him as one soldier to another, referring to his expertise with a certain reverence even as they try to outmaneuver him. Which they rarely do. At least, not for very long.<br />
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It's strange. On the one hand, by keeping things so stark England makes it hard to really know Mac and Ansell, yet it's surprising how well he brings the two men to life, given the restraints he sets for himself. Naturally, neither man likes the other too much at the beginning, but as the situation steadily worsens the relationship between the two men gradually strengthens to the point where they come to respect, and even love, each other. And not in a cliched way, either. Because everybody's a potential enemy, they know it's just the two of them against the world. In fact, it was only as I was reading the book for the second time that I realized that England also throws the four elements - fire, water, air, earth - at them at various points in the narrative. Man, when even <i>nature</i>'s against you, you know you're really in some deep shit.<br />
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That's not to say the book's a<i> total</i> downer. Okay, it's no laugh riot, but during the earlier sections of the book England manages to insert the odd one-liner here and there - and usually when the reader least expects it. There's a fairly tense moment early on, for example, where Mac and Ansell watch two hundred soldiers closing in on them and Ansell turns to his partner and whispers, <i>'Nip along and see if they've got a couple of fags to spare, Mac. You're better at that sort of thing than I am.'</i> That one sure took me by surprise - especially as there was no hint beforehand that these characters possessed a sense of humour. And I like how England divides the story into chapters but refuses to number them. Just a small thing, but that made me smile as well.<br />
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I also love how he keeps everything unexplained and indistinct throughout the book (I'm a big fan of 'The Prisoner' too). How the reader's left with more question than answers. For instance, we know the mountains represent freedom to these two, but we don't know why. Is it because the harsh terrain will allow them to finally lose the helicopter? Or is there a border of some kind over the next hill? Again, who knows? Your guess is as good as mine.<br />
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And then there's the climax, which is a real nail-biter. I mentioned there was no happy ending in this one, but that's not to say the climax isn't satisfying. Because it most assuredly is. The last line in particular stayed with me for hours afterwards, and that's really all I can ask of any book.<br />
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** They also made a movie version in 1970, which starred Robert Shaw as MacConnachie and Malcolm McDowell as Ansell. And I can't think of any other two actors more perfectly suited for the roles - they're both excellent. However, Shaw's adaptation of the book (he wrote the screenplay) is somewhat less successful. It's not bad as such, but he makes a few glaring changes (such as softening the ending and adding unnecessary backstory to the characters) which really don't help the film at all. Still, if you can find it on DVD for a decent price, I'd say it's definitely worth a look.<br />
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<br />Jason Deanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503504193660789306noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114167733388702683.post-63964400053895418092013-08-15T15:57:00.002+07:002013-08-15T15:57:32.424+07:00Great 'Forgotten' Thrillers: THE HUNTER by Christopher Keane<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Okay, I admit it - I'm kind of going outside the lines with this week's book, which purports to be a biographical account of Ralph 'Papa' Thorson's life as a modern-day bounty hunter. Except I've read 'The Hunter' a couple of times now and I'd be <i>really</i> surprised if even fifty percent of its contents are entirely factual. Now don't get me wrong - it's a thoroughly addictive read about a larger-than-life individual who actually <i>was</i> a well-known bounty-hunter, but it's really the format more than anything else that makes me doubt its veracity. At least, in places.<br />
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Because Keane writes the biography as though it were a novel, complete with definite character arcs for the main protagonists, extensive dialogue scenes, dastardly villains, the lot. Which isn't a crime, of course. Many biographers structure their works in the same way in order to accentuate the more dramatic elements of their subject's life, but in this case Keane really stretches the bounds of reality.<br />
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For one thing, he constantly hops between various characters' POV to let the reader experience those individuals' thoughts and hopes, which strikes me more as artistic license than straight reporting. And on a number of occasions there are scenes between peripheral characters that Keane couldn't <i>possibly</i> know about. I'm thinking in particular of a scene between two Hell's Angels, one of whom is an extremely violent paranoid schizophrenic, which I'm pretty sure Keane<i> </i>made up <i>entirely</i> from scratch. And then there are the numerous dialogue scenes between various characters. These conversations are very plausible and natural-sounding and help make the narrative fly by, but I find it very hard to believe they were transcribed word for word. Assuming they happened at all. Take for example this scene between the flamboyant Winston Blue and his associate, where Papa doesn't even <i>appear</i> until the end:<br />
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<i>While Winston waited for Papa's familiar yellow Plymouth to cruise into the neighbourhood, he chatted with his recently acquired partner, a young Chicano he discovered in the Thrifty Discount Drugstore on Sunset Boulevard. The Chicano's name was Real.</i><br />
<i> 'Real?' Winston asked the kid. 'As in deal?'</i><br />
<i> No, as in Ray-Al but the kid was so impressed by Winston's cool demeanor that he didn't want to disagree with him. Real it would be. Yet Real wasn't strictly Winston's partner, not the way Winston saw it. More accurate would be valet, slave, peon, vassal.</i><br />
<i> 'Real, that's me,' the kid replied.</i><br />
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Now, call me a cynic, but I very much doubt the author was present in Bloom's apartment at that point, so I think it's safe to say a little artistic license was employed here. And possibly in a few other places as well. I also can't help thinking that Keane already had one eye on a possible movie deal and wanted to make the book as attractive as possible to producers, which would certainly explain the numerous dialogue and action scenes that fill the book.<br />
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And speaking of which, this is another case where the eventual movie that got made went on to overshadow the source material. Which is a shame as the movie version of 'The Hunter' itself isn't really all that memorable. It's quite likely you've seen it on TV at some point, with Steve McQueen playing the part of Thorson (and looking<i> far</i> older than his 49 years). The film's enjoyable enough without being anything too special, but it's notable mainly for being the actor's last movie before succumbing to cancer in 1980. It's also notable for featuring the <i>real </i>Thorson in a small cameo as a bartender who helps McQueen get drunk. This is the man himself serving his screen counterpart:<br />
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As you can see, the real-life Thorson was a huge bear of a guy, far removed from the trim movie star presence of McQueen. But he was also one hell of an interesting fellow too, with many different facets to his character - which was probably what got McQueen interested in his story in the first place. At the time of the book's publication in 1975, not content with being the <i>only</i> full-time bounty hunter in the USA (his peers all worked part-time while juggling other jobs), he was also a fully ordained Bishop of The Temple of Inspired Living, a master bridge champion, a classical music aficionado, a serious astrologer, and a criminology alumnus of the University of California. It seems he was also one of those people who thrive on chaos, as his residence in North Hollywood was essentially a permanent open house for all kinds of disparate characters, all drawn in like moths to Thorson's charismatic presence. In addition, men he'd picked up and sent to jail would often come back and Thorson would end up counselling them, lending them money, and even helping them find proper work.<br />
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That's when he wasn't out chasing violent fugitives all over the country. A 1987 <i>Los Angeles Time</i>s article claimed he'd caught more than 12,000 fugitives over the course of his 40 year career, which, if true, is an <i>astounding</i> number. I'm inclined to halve that figure just out of principle, but even so that's still pretty damn impressive. Obviously the book only focuses on a small fraction of those cases, and Keane actually lays it out as though everything happens over a set period of six or seven months. However, it's more likely Thorson recounted (and possibly embellished) the more memorable cases from his recent past and told the author to present them however he wanted, making sure to change certain names where necessary.<br />
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In any case, the rogues' gallery contained in the book is really something to behold. We get to meet the insane Branch Brothers, for instance, who started out as seven but have a habit of blowing themselves up so are now down to two, and possess a combined IQ of a loaf of bread. Or there's Boom Boom Jakowski, the aforementioned Hell's Angel who's so volatile and unstable that even<i> other</i> Hell's Angels are afraid of him. There's Paco Carrera, a Mexican drug wholesaler whose abduction from his native country by Thorson and two associates comes under the heading: 'The Mission Impossible Snatch.' Then there's the improbably named Myron Fish, a harmless electronics whiz who's so nervous around Papa that he ends up destroying everything of Papa's that he tries to fix.<br />
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There are also two other notable felons who run through the narrative from beginning to end. One is Tony Bernado, whose capture Papa keeps putting off in order to wind up his tight-fisted employer, bail-bondsman Richie Blumenthal. The other one is Rocco Mason, a speed freak who's just been released from prison and has sworn to kill Papa. Again, Keane gives us numerous scenes of Mason watching Thorson's house which he couldn't possibly have witnessed himself (again, assuming they happened at all) and its when you're reading these passages that you begin to question what else in the book might have come from Keane's imagination.<br />
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But all that said, 'The Hunter' is still a well-written, rollocking read and worthy of anyone's time. It's clear why Hollywood snapped up the rights as Ralph 'Papa' Thorson is a truly fascinating and unique character and deserves to be better known (he apparently died in the early nineties - possibly from a car bomb from a vengeful fugitive, possibly from natural causes). As you'd expect, the book went out of print some time ago, but used copies<i> can</i> be picked up relatively cheaply online. But a word of advice: you'll enjoy the story a lot more if you take it all with a grain of salt.<br />
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<br />Jason Deanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503504193660789306noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114167733388702683.post-76273235240673901162013-08-08T16:32:00.000+07:002013-08-08T16:32:15.616+07:00Great 'Forgotten' Thrillers: BROTHERS by William Goldman<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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'Marathon Man' by William Goldman. Now <i>there's</i> a thriller for you. A critical and commercial success when it was published in 1974, this conspiracy thriller to end all conspiracy thrillers has only grown in stature with the passing of years, managing to influence a whole generation of crime writers in the process, myself included. And rightly so - it really is <i>that </i>good. And Hollywood also made a pretty fantastic film version too, with a cast to die for and an infamous torture scene that still freaks people out even today. But then you probably know all this already. But what you may<i> not </i>know is that twelve years later Goldman finally delivered a sequel to his most famous book. Just <i>why</i> he felt he needed to this when the original wrapped up everything quite nicely is something only he could tell you, but I'm just glad he did because the result's a real barnstormer of a novel.<br />
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It's also - and I mean this in the nicest possible way -<i> </i>completely<i> batshit crazy</i>.<br />
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The first clue is given in the prologue (titled '<i>...before the beginning..</i>.' in a nice nod to the original), where we learn a few years have passed since the events of 'Marathon Man.' Scylla - government super spook and sibling of that's book's protagonist, Tom 'Babe' Levy - has been given a new face and a new voice and is recuperating on a remote desert island somewhere in the Caribbean, getting in shape with a daily regimen of intense exercise and healthy eating as he waits to be called into action once again. This is the very same Scylla, it should be noted, who was previously disemboweled by the psychotic nazi, Szell, and then somehow crawled halfway across Manhattan before finally <i>dying</i> in his brother's arms. Yes, <i>that</i> one.<br />
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So only a few pages in and it's clear we're in 'modern fairy-tale' territory - which is perhaps not <i>too</i> surprising when you remember Goldman also wrote the wonderful 'The Princess Bride'. It seems he just liked the character of Scylla so much that he thought, '<i>Screw it. I'm the writer, I can do what I want. So what if he's dead? I'll simply resurrect him,</i>' and then proceeded to exactly that. And it gets better too. Or should I say, <i>weird</i>er. I hesitate to talk too much about the plot as Goldman, master storyteller that he is, packs the pages with some really great reversals and I really don't want to ruin it for those who haven't read the book. So I'll try to keep things as brief and opaque as possible - which won't actually be too difficult in this particular case.<br />
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Anyway, here goes. In a small town on the outskirts of London, two small brothers walking back from the sweet shop are vaporised when a house explodes. In New York, a violent cabdriver and his streetwise girlfriend find themselves agreeing to the bizarre sexual requests of a total stranger. In New Jersey, a young couple with everything to live for suddenly decide to commit double suicide. At the same time, Scylla is called back from this remote island and given a series of tests designed to see whether he's fit for work or not. After passing with flying colours, Scylla's Division superior informs him that the world is on the brink of a global crisis ('..<i>.there's going to be a world war, America's going to start it, and counting you, three of us know</i>'), and that it's all up to Scylla to avert it. Scylla accepts the challenge and soon learns that the three events that began the book are - surprise, surprise - all linked in some way and that they might hold the answers he seeks...<br />
<br />
Now let me assure you that as odd as that pathetic excuse of a synopsis might sound, it's nowhere near<i> </i>as bizarre as the book itself. <i>Nowhere</i> near. In fact, at various points in the story the author comes dangerously close to science-fiction territory. Not that it matters, of course, because this is William Goldman we're talking about, and whatever else his faults, the man knows how to suck the reader in and keep him or her turning the pages. No matter how unbelievable everything becomes, you simply <i>have</i> to see what happens next. And he's also not ashamed to employ every narrative trick in his arsenal to help the process along either. You can be reading a scene thinking it's going one way only for the author to suddenly pull the rug out from under you in the last paragraph, sometimes in the very<i> </i>last <i>line</i>. And he keeps on doing it to you, relentlessly, scene after scene. It's great.<br />
<br />
And the prose is pure Goldman too: both cynical and caustic, often with a healthy dose of humour thrown into the mix too. Scylla's the best example of this. While he merrily goes about his business of killing off various enemies of the state and averting World War Three, he's often making wry observations about the world around him that obviously match Goldman's own thoughts. Such as his initial impressions of the bustling San Juan International Airport: <br />
<br />
<i>All he knew was that more than their North American mainland neighbours, the Spanish visited airports. Was a third cousin going from Mexico City to Los Angeles? Fine. Twenty-two relatives would fit into a couple of vehicles and chug along. Was Aunt Consuela visiting Neuva York? Better to die than not be one of the fifteen who saw her off</i>.<br />
<br />
Or even better, his less than flattering opinion of Heathrow Airport (which still holds true today):<br />
<br />
<i>And how did some legendary architect manage it so perfectly, manage the seemingly impossible task of making every arrivals gate, no matter where in the world you came from, a good minimarathon away from the customs area. Somehow, you would imagine, there would have been a single slip, one gate where you could just smile good-bye to the stew, then a quick hip-hop and there you were, giving your passport. But no, Heathrow was sublime in its total disregard for human comfort.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Not only that, but Goldman (and by proxy, Scylla) fully understands how ridiculous and cliched the tropes of spycraft really are and takes great pleasure at mocking them at every opportunity. Often with farcical results. For instance, in one unforgettable scene, Scylla is to meet a Division recruiter at a museum and given a single password - 'blistering' - that will identify him to the man's receptionist. So naturally when the times comes, Scylla, who hates passwords with a passion, simply can't find it in himself to say it:<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i> Now the officious woman was back. 'Ah don't know whah ah fand this heat so ay-maz-in', ah just dew. It is sew hot.'</i><br />
<i> </i><i>Scylla stood there.</i><br />
<i> </i><i>'Yew dew agree?'</i><br />
<i> </i><i>Scylla made a questioning look.</i><br />
<i> </i><i>'The heat, the heat, ahm talkin' 'bout the heat.'</i><br />
<i> </i><i>She was beginning to get just a wee bit flustered. Scylla said, 'Definitely.'</i><br />
<i> </i><i>'How would yew descrahb it? How hot it is, ahm talkin' 'bout.'</i><br />
<i> </i><i>'Too?'</i><br />
<i> </i><i>'There's a word - on the tip of mah tongue - ah just can't come up with it.'</i><br />
<i> </i><i>'If you could think what letter it began with, that would be a help.'</i><br />
<i> </i><i>'Ah believe it begins with a 'b.''</i><br />
<i> </i><i>'Oh, sure,' Scylla said, smiling. 'Brutally. I'm sure that solves your problem.'</i><br />
<i> </i><i>'It does not. That is a different word entirely.'</i><br />
<i> </i><i>'Bitch? As in 'hot as a bitch'?'</i><br />
<i> </i><i>'You are drifting further an' further away.'</i><br />
<i> </i><i>'I know the word,' Scylla said then. 'Berry.'</i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><i> She just looked at him. 'Berry?'</i></span></i><br />
<i> 'Sure. Didn't there used to be a comedian on 'Saturday Night Live' who said, 'Baseball been berry berry good to me'? Well, I say, 'It's berry berry hot out.' Are your problems solved?'</i><br />
<i> </i><i>He watched as she stormed up the stairs.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>It's never been Goldman's style to stick to one POV, though, so along the way we also get to spend time with an eclectic cross-section of characters, such as Scylla's friend and immediate superior, Perkins - who, in both appearance and intelligence, bears a <i>very</i> close resemblance to Mycroft Holmes. And we also play catch-up with Scylla's brother, Babe, who's now a happily married professor of history at Columbia University. We meet two Division assassins who are forced to work together and spend most of their time threatening each other with painful death. There's The Blond, another assassin who gets his kicks by scraping the faces off his dead victims with a potato peeler and raiding their fridges for a post-slaughter snack. Or there's Grumpy, a mute dwarf information broker who gives out his information in the form of sidewalk art. And they're just a small sample of what's in store. But as you'd expect from Goldman, all are fully fleshed-out three-dimensional characters, and all are allowed their individual moments in the sun. Even the minor ones.<br />
<br />
But how does it fare in comparison to its bigger brother, 'Marathon Man,' you ask? (see what I did there?) Well, let's be honest - <i>very </i>few sequels match up to their predecessors and 'Brothers' is certainly no different in that respect. Goldman even pokes fun at the problem when he has Scylla visit a movie theatre as part of his reconnaissance and forces him to sit through 'Return To Oz':<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>They really should pass a law, he thought, as he sat there: No Movie Sequels. Ever. Under threat of death or worse, banishment from Chasen's. Other arts didn't do it to this degree - Leonardo never made a Mona Lisa II. Michelangelo had a smash with his Sistine Chapel, but once was enough for him. Why would anyone feel the need to sully Judy Garland?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<span class="Apple-style-span">And then there's the ending. Don't worry - I'm not going to give anything away here, other than to say Goldman does his usual thing of finishing everything on a downer. It was the same with 'Marathon Man,' 'Magic,' 'Colour of Light,' and all the rest. It's like he just can't help himself. I can kind of understand it as I've seen Goldman interviewed a number of times and he always comes across a pretty pessimistic guy, so it's no surprise that that negativity flows through into his work. But I just wish he'd restrained himself a little more in this case, especially as this would prove to be his very last book before he focused entirely on writing screenplays. But other than that small gripe, 'Brothers' works just fine as a novel. All the way through, Goldman rations out the clues while holding back just enough for you to keep turning the pages, and that's a major </span>prerequisite<span class="Apple-style-span"> for a successful thriller. Just don't expect realism, that's all. </span><br />
<br />
And to be perfectly honest I think I've actually read this more times than I've read 'Marathon Man,' which must say <i>some</i>thing about the book's quality. Or maybe it says something about me. I don't know. In any case, if you're the kind of reader who enjoys something a little out of the ordinary then I suggest you check 'Brothers' out for yourself. You could do a lot worse.<br />
<br />
<br />Jason Deanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503504193660789306noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114167733388702683.post-28752418151448861252013-08-01T15:16:00.001+07:002013-08-01T15:16:22.215+07:00Great 'Forgotten' Thrillers: TIME OF RECKONING by Walter Wager<br />
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<br />
I'm not sure when I first picked this one up, but it was probably somewhere around the early-to-mid-eighties. And it was probably at a jumble sale (or 'yard sale' for US readers), as that was generally where I got most of my books back then. But I do remember this was the first time I'd come across a thriller by Walter Wager, and I came away pretty impressed. So much so that over the next few years I searched out more titles of his, including SLEDGEHAMMER, SWAP, OTTO'S BOY, VIPER THREE (filmed as the excellent TWILIGHT'S LAST GLEAMING), 58 MINUTES (filmed as the not-so-good DIE HARD 2) and a few others I can't remember right now. But while I enjoyed them all well enough, <i>none</i> of them in my opinion came up to the high standards of TIME OF RECKONING.<br />
<br />
The narrative is mainly concerned with two seemingly unconnected characters - a concentration camp survivor and an irrepressible CIA agent. We begin in the final days of WWII, where the US Army liberate the concentration camp in Dachau only to be presented with hundreds of gaunt-faced Jewish survivors. One of these is three-year-old Ernst Beller, whose entire family has been wiped out by the nazis. Fortunately, though, he's still got an uncle and aunt living in the States, and he's soon repatriated and sent to live with them. As he grows to manhood, 'Ernie' Beller sets out on a brilliant medical career, but he's also got a long-term agenda in mind, which is to avenge the deaths of his countrymen. Realizing that he's not going to have much success locating Martin Boorman and the rest if the Israelis have already failed, he decides instead to focus on those nazi war criminals who've already been sentenced and imprisoned for their crimes. And execute them.<br />
<br />
Running parallel to all this we also get glimpses into the career of a maverick and unruly CIA agent known only as 'Merlin' as he rapidly makes a reputation for himself as the 'man who gets things done.' Moving into the present day, Merlin arrives in Berlin where he's tasked with tracking down a group of Marxist terrorists who are intent on blowing up as much of Western Europe as they can. At the same time Beller also arrives in Berlin to visit the first of his targets, unaware that he and Merlin are destined to cross paths somewhere down the line...<br />
<br />
So on the face of it, nothing too out of the ordinary, at least plotwise. Nazis, revenge, terrorists, spies, CIA agents, shootouts. All present and correct. But it's really the <i>style</i> that matters here - because it's only after a few pages that you begin to realize Wager is clearly parodying the whole thriller genre, while at the same time sticking very close to the tropes and conventions of that genre. It's really a nice piece of work from a writer who made his regular living from these kinds of stories, although I'm not sure anybody else got the joke. On the back of my paperback, for example, there's a blurb from the <i>Weekender</i> that reads, '<i>A swift, suspenseful action novel written in a no-nonsense style</i>.' Sure, it's suspenseful, and it's pretty swift too, I guess. But 'no-nonsense style'? I'm not sure what book that particular reviewer was referring to, because it sure wasn't the same one I read. And it seems he's not the only one, as there are a number of reviews online that seem to miss the point, as well.<br />
<br />
But I don't know how they can, because it's so <i>obvious</i>. <br />
<br />
Almost every chapter (and there are 48 of them in total) starts off in a wildy irreverent manner, as though the omniscient narrator can't believe anybody's going to take any of this seriously. For instance, Chapter 4 begins like this:<br />
<br />
<i> Uncle Martin had once met Freud.</i><br />
<i> Sigmund Freud, the one with the cigar and the mother number.</i><br />
<i> Really.</i><br />
<i> It wasn't that surprising if you knew that Uncle Martin graduated third in the class of 1925 at the U. of Vienna med school and went on to become a full-fledged psychoanalyst. Even his few enemies had to admit there wasn't a therapist in his age group who was more fledged than Martin Beller</i>.<br />
<br />
Or there's this passage that opens Chapter 13:<br />
<br />
<i> 'He'll see you now,' Miss Rasmussen said crisply.</i><br />
<i> </i><i>Donna Rasmussen was a person to be treated with respect. She was not only the executive secretary to the deputy director for operations of one of the largest and sneakiest organizations in the world, but she was also the best female bowler on the entire CIA headquarters staff. Penny Levine had beaten her in 1974, but had been out of the competition since being transferred to Buenos Aires.</i><br />
<br />
And here's the beginning of Chapter 16:<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i> Everybody gets born, but there are a million ways you can do it. Some are born rich, others are born premature, quite a few as Chinese, and a few theatrical types check in as Siamese Twins - on the cusp between Libra and Scorpio. It is better to be born in summer as you'll have a better chance of survival.</i><br />
<i> Merlin was born American, lucky and optimistic - a trifle too optimistic. Freda Cassel was not in bed when he reached her small but pleasantly furnished apartment...</i><br />
<br />
I ask you, how can you not warm to a book where you begin every chapter by giggling out loud? It's impossible. And as if that isn't enough you've got this Merlin character, who's the uber-cool superspy archetype taken to its most ridiculous extremes. That's not to say he isn't a compelling character, because he is, but he's also about as far removed from reality as you can get. Nothing's beyond him. Not only is he a perfect shot, but he's been everywhere, he's done everything, and he knows just about everyone. And he's got a witty rejoinder for every situation, too, such as when the Berlin police question him in the aftermath of a shootout at the local CIA station:<br />
<br />
<i> The cop nodded. It was one of </i>those<i> messes. 'You have any kind of official identification, Herr 'Wasserman'?' </i><br />
<i> 'No, just my passport. I'm a furniture salesmen.'</i><br />
<i> 'I'll bet.'</i><br />
<i> 'Tell your men that some friends of mine will be here soon, five or six men in cars and a U.S. Army ambulance,' Merlin said.</i><br />
<i> 'All furniture salesmen?'</i><br />
<i> Merlin nodded.</i><br />
<i> 'All armed like you?'</i><br />
<i> 'Some may be carrying submachine guns. It's a highly competitive business, sergeant.</i>'<br />
<br />
Okay, so obviously the book's not to be taken<i> too</i> seriously, but does it actually work as a thriller? Well, yes it does, actually. Wager's too much the professional to allow the humour to completely overshadow the suspense elements, and so he makes doubly sure to keep the tension high throughout.<br />
<br />
On the one hand you've got Beller's mission of vengeance, which is probably the most absorbing part of the plot, as he expertly plans and then disposes of one imprisoned nazi after another, improvising whenever obstacles fall into his path (as they inevitably do). It's like a warped version of Mission: Impossible, but with only one team member, who just happens to be a whole lot smarter than everybody else. And insane, to boot. Well, maybe not <i>insane</i>, but Wager makes clear from the start that Beller isn't exactly playing with a full deck (which is kind of understandable after what he went through as a toddler). And then you've got Merlin working against the clock as attempts to track down the evil terrorists, who decide to up the stakes by kidnapping the local CIA station director as a little extra insurance. Who's also Merlin's ex-wife. Whom he's still in love with. So there's that, too.<br />
<br />
So as you can see, there's definitely no shortage of suspense. And it helps that you care for the characters too, especially Beller, whom the reader is fully behind all the way through (be honest, who <i>doesn't</i> like seeing nazis being murdered?). So when Merlin 'completes' his assignment and is left with an unexplained death that sets him on Ernie Beller's trail, you're kind of in two minds about the whole thing. On the one side, you're really hoping Merlin fails in his quest and that Beller gets away with it all, but you also can't help looking forward to seeing how these two bizarre characters will interact with each other once they finally meet. Fortunately, Wager doesn't let the reader down. He fashions a really satisfying climax (and one that's not nearly as action-packed as you'd expect), not least because the reader finally comes to realize that these two protagonists are both as crazy as each other. And just as homicidal. The only difference being that one of them is officially sanctioned by the US Government.<br />
<br />
It's just a shame the author didn't continue with this semi-spoof style for his subsequent thrillers as he could have found a nice little niche for himself in the marketplace. Or maybe he simply felt he'd gotten it out of his system with this one. No way of knowing now, though, since Wager's no longer around to tell us his side of the story. As it is, his TIME OF RECKONING still stands up as a great little thriller that's unafraid to acknowledge its own preposterousness. And for that, it should be applauded.<br />
<br />
<br />Jason Deanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503504193660789306noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114167733388702683.post-66248542914537456522013-07-24T20:29:00.000+07:002015-03-15T12:28:14.699+07:00Great 'Forgotten' Thrillers: THE PRESIDENT'S GRASS IS MISSING by Patricia Breen-Bond<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Now if anybody out there's ever read this neat little caper comedy/thriller from 1980, I will be mightily impressed. It sure ain't easy to find these days, but back when I picked it up they were practically giving the thing away. And by 'they,' I mean good old Woolworths. Back in the late seventies and early eighties, it seemed every UK Woolworths store you walked into would have a couple of bargain bins in the book department that were filled to the <i>brim</i> with remaindered, heavily-discounted paperbacks. And I do mean <i>heavily</i> discounted. If my memory serves me correctly they were usually around the 20-25p mark, which wasn't a whole lot even back then. Especially for a book.<br />
<br />
But what made it even better was the fact that these were <i>American </i>paperbacks. Or at least most of them were. There were usually some British ones in there, too, but it was always the US ones I gravitated towards as they invariably had the more interesting covers. Wooly's must have had some kind of deal going with the overseas remainder houses or something, because they always seemed to be from second-rate publishers like Belmont-Tower or Leisure Books. You know the ones I mean. The ones with cheap pulpy paper and blue/green dye running along the sides of the pages.<br />
<br />
Not that I cared, though. I was like a pig in clover, I really was. Anytime I had a few spare coins on me, I'd head over to my local Wooly's and just dive in and see what treasures would emerge. It was like a lottery. Most were crap, of course, and were probably overpriced at 20p. But every now and then you'd find a little gem, and this was one of them.<br />
<br />
So let's take a look at the story itself, shall we?<br />
<br />
The president of the title is Paul Eyman, a young, man-of-the-people type who was voted in by a landslide and who's one part charismatic bullshitter and one part eccentric maverick. Which means he often attends Oval Office meetings wearing colourful shirts, jeans and flip-flops, and in the summer usually works in only his swim trunks. Mainly because he's 'the Man' and he can do what he wants. More importantly, however, he also likes to partake in the occasional spliff or two when winding down of an evening. And he also happens to be in a position whereby he can get the best stuff available, courtesy of the Director of the CIA.<br />
<br />
Except one morning the Secret Service discover a whole section of the White House lawn has been stolen. And wouldn't you know it - that's precisely where Eyman hid his marijuana. Within minutes, a phone call's put through to the President. The unidentified caller claims he now has the Prez's secret stash stilll wrapped in the original cellophane with the presidential seal on it (good thinking there, people), along with the president's fingerprints. And the price for its return is one billion dollars or it goes straight to the press.<br />
<br />
What Eyman and the rest of his cabinet don't know, however, is that this whole scheme began in a corner bar in Upper Manhattan where a few regulars made a bet with a few other regulars about who could come up with the best prank. One group ordered 100 KFC buckets to be delivered to a rival Irish bar, so the other group booked an R&B group to play at the same bar. So far, so harmless. But over the course of a few months the pranks gradually escalate from the mildly irritating to the seriously felonious, such as pretending to be soldiers and stealing weapons from a federal armoury. Anxious for a new challenge, one of them goes as far as to suggest they steal a section of the White House lawn. Which, of course, they succeed in doing (in the prologue, no less), realizing only later that they've also got the main man's private drug supply as well. And naturally, rather than give the pot back, they decide to take things a step <i>further</i> by ransoming it off. The rest of the novel then follows various characters on both sides as they prepare for the handover of a billion dollars in cash. Or not, as the case may be.<br />
<br />
So, as you can see, what we have here is the kind of comedy heist caper Donald Westlake perfected with his hilarious John Dortmunder series, as well as a whole host of other standalone novels. Breen-Bond even places the action in the New York area, the setting for most of Westlake's stories. But to be honest, the similarities really end there.<br />
<br />
For one thing, the Dortmunder books were almost always played totally as farce (with the notable exception of 'Drowned Hopes'), whereas this one starts out that way but soon morphs into thriller territory as the moment of truth gets closer. Also, while Westlake always grounds his plots so they're at least <i>relatively</i> believable, Breen-Bond makes it fairly clear from the start that reality won't be getting much of a look in here. A pot-smoking president is one thing, but are we really to believe a bunch of blue-collar telephone engineers can train themselves up, prank by prank, to become the most successful criminal heisters in history? And then to blackmail the President himself out of a billion dollars of government funds? I mean, there’s a difference between suspension of disbelief and hanging it by the neck until it's dead, and Breen-Bond comes perilously close to the latter with this book. <br />
<br />
But I think the best way to approach this story is to simply get on board and go with it, otherwise you simply miss out on all the fun. Because that's essentially what this book is. Fun. And I have to say that unlikely as it all is, at least the concept's a fairly original one. It also helps that Breen-Bond's able to extract the humour out of almost any given scene. For instance, only a few pages in we witness the cabinet getting together to discuss the problem at hand:<br />
<br />
<i> The flustered, bulldogged-face FBI chief, Douglas Pomeroy, barked out first. 'Mr President, this condition is preposterous. I can assure you that the Bureau will get to the bottom of this at once. No one and I mean no one can get away with stealing the White House lawn.'</i><br />
<i> 'Thank you. By the way, are you gay?'</i><br />
<i> </i><i>The Secretary had to catch Pomeroy before he toppled the chair.</i><br />
<i> 'Don't take it so hard, Douglas. It was just a simple question.'</i><br />
<i> 'But, Mr President, as head of the... the... the...'</i><br />
<i> 'Bureau,' someone at the other end gently reminded him.</i><br />
<i> 'Bureau... surely...'</i><br />
<i> 'Come on, Douggie, a simple yes or no will do. Don't BS me.'</i><br />
<i> 'Certainly not, Mr President.'</i><br />
<i> 'Too bad. I was hoping to use it in my next campaign. - that I hire gays. </i>Any<i>body here gay?'</i><br />
<i> The room became quiet as a morgue.</i><br />
<br />
And every few pages Breen-Bond introduces another walk-on character whose sole purpose is to make life that much more difficult for the main players - sometimes without advancing the plot <i>at all</i>. Which is exactly what you want in a caper such as this. The president's dog, for example, makes a notable nuisance of himself during the initial theft when he wants to play fetch. Or there's the bad-tempered rip-off artist who tries to make off with the van holding the stolen turf. Or there's the hostile telephone operator who refuses to give a certain CIA agent <i>any</i> information about the previous caller's location, and even refuses to give him her <i>own</i> name.<br />
<br />
But I also like the healthy streak of cynicism that runs through the whole book, too. Corruption is rife throughout, and almost <i>every</i> character is on the make in one form or another. The President and his cabinet are very quick to suggest taking the ransom out of the defence budget, for example, which is about what you'd expect from a group of elected officials. And it goes without saying that almost every uniformed cop in the book is on the take. Then there's another character who needs to rent a car on short notice and has to bribe the rental guy to get what he wants. Or on reconnaissance duties in a deserted building, one of the thieves overhears a foreman and a contractor discussing how to cut corners on the fire sprinkler system so they can pocket the excess funds themselves.<br />
<br />
These are just some of the reasons why I like this book, and why I wish Patricia Breen-Bond had written more. She certainly had the potential to become a name author in her field, but it seems she left the publishing world altogether after this one, which is a real shame. But on the upside, at least she left on a high.<br />
<br />
<br />Jason Deanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503504193660789306noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114167733388702683.post-57396883506305852542013-07-16T16:11:00.004+07:002022-07-16T16:13:52.095+07:00Great 'Forgotten' Thrillers: MAYDAY by Thomas H. Block<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Now I know for a fact I was still in school when I first read this, because I remember picking it up from my local WHSmith or Woolworths (remember Woolworths?) not too long after it came out, and my best friend at school, Tony, who also shared my love of thriller novels and especially loved anything with planes, bought a copy too so we could read it at the same time. Usually while we were <i>at</i> school. Morning assembly was best. Man, those things were dull and they went on for<i>ever</i>, but it was amazing how the minutes flew by when you had a good book to dip into when the teachers weren't looking. And we were both fast readers, too, so invariably one of us would tap the other on the shoulder and casually ask, 'Hey, have you got to page 145 where such and such happens? No? Oh, just you wait, it's <i>so</i> cool.' Oh yes, the art of one-upmanship is mastered at a very early age.<br />
<br />
Oddly enough, I'm pretty sure I only read MAYDAY that one time. I don't know why exactly. If I had to guess, it would be because there were so many other books waiting to be read next. That's not to say I wasn't impressed with MAYDAY, however. On the contrary, I was totally gripped from the first page to the last. In fact, I thought that Daily Express blurb on the cover wasn't going far <i>enough</i>. As far as I was concerned this wasn't just the best disaster novel ever, but the best <i>novel</i> ever.<br />
<br />
Blame it on the innocent enthusiasm of youth.<br />
<br />
But in reading the book again in preparation for this post, I was pleased to discover my memory (which is spotty at the best of times) hadn't been playing tricks on me. Okay, okay, it's <i>hardly</i> the best book ever. It's not even close. In fact, it might not even be the best <i>disaster</i> book I've ever read. But all these years later it still had me breathlessly turning the pages into the early hours, and that's really all I can ask of any thriller. And I notice it's still in print, too, so it would seem I'm not the only person who feels that way.<br />
<br />
The plot, as with most disaster scenarios, is simplicity itself. In this case it begins 60,000 feet above the Pacific Ocean where a state-of-the-art supersonic passenger jet (think a cross between the Concorde and a 747), is heading for Tokyo with a full load of 300 passengers. Unfortunately, it turns out that the US Navy are testing an experimental smart-missile in that very area at <i>the exact same time</i>. What are the chances, eh? And naturally, the missile's internal computer chooses that moment to have a breakdown and decide that the jet would make a far better target than the drone it was originally programmed for.<br />
<br />
So, of course, the missile proceeds to strike the new target dead centre, passing straight through the hull like a bullet through a frankfurter. The jet immediately loses cabin pressure and a good percentage of the passengers are swept out the two gaping holes and into subspace. Fortunately, the auto-pilot does its job and takes the jet down to 11,000 feet where the air's breathable. Unfortunately, it's all a little too late, as most of the remaining passengers are either dead or permanently brain-damaged as a result of the decompression and oxygen deprivation. The only exceptions are the five people who were in pressure-stabilized areas (ie. toilets) at the time and are thus still in possession of all their faculties. <br />
<br />
And they must now find a way to somehow land the damaged plane while fending off not only hordes of braindead passengers, but the Navy - who want to cover up the accident for obvious reasons - and also the airline itself - who, along with the insurance company, would quickly go bankrupt from all the prospective injury claims if the plane were to actually land.<br />
<br />
So, no pressure then. <br />
<br />
It's like the author's thought to himself, <i>'Hmm, what's the worst thing that could possibly happen?</i>' and then decided to ramp everything up to the power of ten. Which is exactly what a thriller writer <i>should</i> be doing in a story like this. Naturally, the pilots in the cockpit are taken out of the equation straight away, along with the radios, which are damaged beyond repair. Added to which, the plane's also rapidly running out of fuel. The Navy commander responsible for the screw-up also turns out to be a complete psychopath, willing to do whatever's necessary to cover up the whole mess, including blowing up the rest of the plane and sinking the evidence in the Pacific. And then we have the chairman of the airline back in San Francisco, who decides all <i>his</i> problems will immediately vanish if the plane never returns.<br />
<br />
And as if that isn't enough, you've also got the mobs of brain-damaged passengers ('Zombies On A Plane'?) wandering around the compartments looking for trouble, and thus making life even more difficult for the five remaining 'normal' passengers (consisting of John Berry, a salesman and 'weekend' pilot, two stewardesses - Sharon Crandall and Barbara Yoshiro, a 12-year-old girl named Linda, and an editor, Howard Stein, whose wife and two daughters have just devolved into halfwits).<br />
<br />
Now there are a lot of characters in the narrative, both on the ground and off, but Block does a pretty good job of juggling all the strands so the reader never gets lost at any time. Inevitably, some end up as little more than sketch drawings rather than fully fleshed-out people, but the two main survivors, Berry and Crandall, make an interesting pair and display honest (rather than 'Hollywood') emotions throughout the crisis so that the reader can really get behind them every step of the way. And then there's Lt. Peter Matos, the Navy pilot who made the error that caused all this trouble. A career soldier who suddenly realizes his commander is certifiable, on the one hand he's unable to completely break rank and do the right thing, but neither is he prepared to sell his soul to the devil. At least not completely. Despite being only a minor player in the story, his journey turns out to be one of the narrative's more engrossing sub-plots.<br />
<br />
But let's hear it for the bad guys, who collectively make the book far more memorable than it might otherwise have been. They really are a gallery of mad bastards. Are they realistic? Well, not really. But are they entertaining to read? Oh, most definitely. First, you've got the Navy commander, Sloan, who just gets nuttier and nuttier as the book progresses. You do wonder if he's ever had to deal with an emergency situation before, because as soon as this one gets underway he just loses it entirely. Everything, and I mean <i>every</i>thing, suddenly boils down to how he can save his career. And it doesn't matter how many people have to die - including his own men - in order for that to be achieved.<br />
<br />
Then there are the two maniacs on the ground: Johnson, the chairman of the airline itself, and Metz, an insurance representative there to cover his firm's ass. They're just as bad as Sloan, maybe even worse, as they can't even use the old standby 'national security' as an excuse for their behaviour. All they care about are their profit margins. But they're also so over-the-top that it's hard not to rejoice in their evilness. I like to think Block knew full well he was pushing the bounds of reality in this one, so he just went for broke with these two. I mean, it can't be a coincidence that they happen to get some of the best lines in the book. For example:<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i> Metz slumped forward in his chair. 'Good God! Why didn't you tell me all this?'</i><br />
<i> 'Why? Because you have no real balls. You were all for this as long as you thought I could come up with a simple technical solution to the problem of putting the Straton in the ocean. If you knew all the problems involved, you would have run off to your group therapy or wherever it is that fucked-up insurance kids go.'</i><br />
<i> Metz stood slowly. 'It's more than our careers now. If -"</i><br />
<i> 'Right. It's our lives against theirs. If they land we go up for twenty to life. That might affect our promotions.'</i><br />
<br />
Or this, when Johnson creates a diversion to allow Metz to swipe some incriminating communications from a fax machine:<br />
<br />
<i> Johnson stood and walked towards the door. 'Go on, Wayne. One quick motion from the machine to your pocket. Everybody is looking at me now.' He put his hand on the door knob. 'Go.'</i><br />
<i> Metz ripped the messages off and stuffed them into his trousers pocket.</i><br />
<i> Johnson pretended to change his mind and walked away from the door. He sat back down at the counter. 'Very good. In case of imminent capture, eat them.'</i><br />
<i> Metz walked up to Johnson. 'I'm not sure I like your sense of humour any more.'</i><br />
<i> Johnson shrugged. 'I'm not sure I like your lack of one. First sign of mental disease - lack of humour. Inability to see the funny side of things.'</i><br />
<br />
But just in case you feel I'm passing over the actual thriller elements of the book, let me assure you that MAYDAY is a genuine rollercoaster ride from start to finish. Block is a fine storyteller and expertly crafts the book so that the reader is never more than five or six pages away from another cliffhanger. And he also proves to be a dab hand at describing intense action scenes, too. Which isn't as easy as it looks, believe me. A case in point is the initial collision caused by the stray missile, which takes up almost ten pages, and Block leaves little to the imagination as he describes the horror. The reader is given gruesome accounts of adults and children being pulverised or torn apart by debris, while others are simply swept screaming out into subspace to die of asphyxiation. Often still strapped to their seats.<br />
<br />
And that's all within the first fifty pages, so you can imagine what the rest of the book's like.<br />
<br />
But for those of you who wish to experience it for yourself, it's worth noting that the novel's had a few changes made to it since it's original publication. For a start, it's now listed as having been written by '<i>Nelson DeMille</i> <i>and</i> Thomas Block,' which is a little confusing. Because I've read a few of DeMille's novels and it sure doesn't sound like his voice. Not only that, but in my original copy (pic above) it's copyrighted solely to Thomas H. Block, and after dedicating the book to his wife, Block also adds 'I wish to thank Nelson DeMille for his invaluable editorial assistance, Dr Jack Fallia for his invaluable help, and a gallery of other friends...'<br />
<br />
But I also know that the book has been extensively updated since its original publication, so maybe DeMille had a lot more input into that part of it. I haven't read the newer version so I don't really know - although I'm sure commercial considerations had a part to play when deciding whose name went on the cover. Maybe those who've read the newer version can let me know what they think in the comments section. I'd be interested to know what changes were made.<i><br /></i>
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<br />Jason Deanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503504193660789306noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114167733388702683.post-5755697861186861702013-07-08T19:22:00.002+07:002013-07-28T17:45:53.177+07:00Great 'Forgotten' Thrillers: THE RUNNING MAN by Richard Bachman<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
...And we all know 'Richard Bachman' is actually a pseudonym of Stephen King's, don't we? Why, of <i>course</i> we do. After all, we don't live under a rock.<br />
<br />
So the question is, can <i>any</i> novel by arguably the world's most popular author - whether it be under his own name or not - actually be considered 'forgotten' in any shape or form? It's not like any of his books has ever gone out of print (with the exception of another Bachman novel, 'Rage', which was withdrawn at King's own request), so just where do I get off putting THE RUNNING MAN in this series of posts? I mean, they even made a financially successful movie of it, for Christ's sake.<br />
<br />
Well, I include it here precisely<i> because</i> it was published under a pseudonym, which automatically classifies it a 'minor' King work. Along with the other three novels collected in '<i>The Bachman Books</i>', THE RUNNING MAN was a tryout novel King wrote in his early years before he found his true voice with the classic 'Carrie.' According to King in his 'Why I Was Bachman' essay, he wrote it back in 1971 during a marathon seventy-two-hour session (although in 'On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft,' he states the novel actually took him a full week to write), and considers it the best of his Bachman novels because,<i> 'it's nothing but story... and anything which is not story is cheerfully thrown over the side</i>.' It's also, along with the similar 'Long Walk', one of the very few times King has attempted a sci-fi novel.<br />
<br />
The plot is fairly simple. It's 2025 and the world's gone to hell. Pollution is killing people by the legions, unemployment is the norm, and the gap between rich and poor is about as wide as it can get. In the ultra-dystopian USA, there's a Free-Vee in every apartment and deadly life-or-death game shows rule the airwaves. The most popular game show of all is 'The Running Man,' where a contestant is chased by a team of network-employed 'Hunters' whose sole purpose is to track the contestant across the country and murder him. As if that isn't enough, citizens are also paid cash bonuses if they spot him and report his location to the Hunters. The contestant earns money for every hour he remains on the loose, and if he can survive for thirty days he wins a billion dollar bonus. No contestant has ever lasted longer than eight days.<br />
<br />
Unemployed Ben Richards and his wife and 18-month-old child live in the grim Co-Op city (<i>not</i> the one in New York). Unable to afford life-saving medicine for his sick daughter, Richards is forced to try for one of the game shows in order to earn the money. After a long and gruelling series of mental and physical tests, he's finally accepted for the daddy of them all: 'The Running Man' itself. Once he's introduced to the jeering nationwide audience on live TV, he's given a twelve-hour head start and a few thousand dollars 'running' money, and then the hunt is on...<br />
<br />
So, essentially, what we have is another variation on that classic and highly influential 'man-hunts-man' story, THE MOST DANGEROUS GAME (see also ROLLERBALL, THE HUNGER GAMES, BATTLE ROYALE, etc, etc). But here King takes the basic theme and makes it his own by introducing the fresh concept of Reality TV to the mix (well, it <i>was</i> fresh back in the seventies). He also makes his version of the future an almost totally hopeless one, as by 2025 the USA is practically a police state, with a government run almost entirely by big business interests whose sole intent seems to be to kill off the population by one means or another. Either by lethal game shows or by refusing to supply the people with nose filters that might help protect them from the pollution. That atmosphere of pessimism permeates the entire novel and King makes it clear from the start that there aren't going to be any happy endings in this one (which can also be applied to every other Bachman story).<br />
<br />
The rigged rules themselves leave little room for doubt: Survive thirty days and you win the bonus. So that's a whole month with almost the <i>entire</i> population out for your blood. And if that's not enough, Richards is handed a recorder and a supply of micro video tapes that can each hold a two-minute recording, and warned he <i>must</i> send two tapes a day of himself to the network or he forfeits the money. So, any ideas Richards has of stocking up on supplies and hiding in a cellar for the duration is thrown right out the window. He has to keep moving and keep mailing new tapes or it's all for nothing. Of course, the Network claims the packages' postmarks are kept from the Hunters, but Richards sees through that bullshit straight away. He knows he's a dead man walking. Or running. In the end, knowing he's earning money for as long as he breathes, the best Richards can hope for is to last as long as possible and hope he'll be able to take as many of them down with him when he goes.<br />
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Without beating around the bush, it has to be said that this is a <i>very</i> fast-moving thriller. It's like a shark - if it stops, it dies. I've reread it a number of times over the years and it rarely takes me longer than three hours to get through. In fact, when you consider how early this was in his career, it's quite remarkable how King keeps the story's pace at such a consistently high level. The 'countdown' structure of the book helps, too, of course. There are 101 short chapters, with the first listed as '<i>...Minus 100 and COUNTING ...</i>' while the last is simply '<i>000</i>.'<br />
<br />
Added to which, the first quarter of the book, which focuses on the candidates undergoing the vetting process for the Games, is mostly made up of dialogue as Richards is forced to take one test after another. And page after page of dialogue really helps make the narrative fly by. It's also during this section that King allows us to get a good look at Richards' character as we see what sets him apart from his contemporaries. Such as when a vapid, barely-dressed female Network employee finishes explaining to him the simple rules of a written general knowledge test he has to complete:<br />
<br />
<i> 'Then please turn to page one and begin. When I say stop, please put the pencil down. You may begin.'</i><br />
<i> </i><i>He didn't begin. He eyed her body slowly, insolently.</i><br />
<i> </i><i>After a moment, she flushed. 'Your hour has begun, Ben. You had better -"</i><br />
<i> </i><i>'Why,' he asked, 'does everybody assume that when they are dealing with someone from south of the canal that they are dealing with a horny mental incompetent?'</i><br />
<i> </i><i>She was completely flustered now. 'I... I never...'</i><br />
<i> </i><i>'No, you never.' He smiled and picked up the pencil. 'My Christ, you people are dumb.'</i><br />
<i> </i><i>He bent to the test while she was trying to find an answer or even a reason for his attack; she probably really didn't understand.</i><br />
<br />
So it's clear from the start that Richards is that classic archetype: The Last of the Independents. The man alone. That one individual who lives within the system, but is apart from it. As King makes obvious in the very first chapter when Richards is arguing with his wife:<br />
<br />
<i>'He turned on her, grim and humorless, clutching something that set him apart, an invisible something for which the Network had ruthlessly calculated. He was a dinosaur in his time. Not a big one, but still a throwback, an embarrassment. Perhaps a danger. Big clouds condense around small particles.'</i><br />
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Admittedly, not the most subtle writing King's ever done - he's telling rather than showing - but it paints a clear enough picture of the main protagonist. And I like that last sentence, too, even though it doesn't really sound like the kind of thing his wife would be thinking (the chapter is the only one in the book from her POV). But it's some nice foreshadowing and helps the reader to picture a storm brewing, hinting that some major shit's gonna go down in the very near future and that Richards will be right in the heart of it.<br />
<br />
It's also an extremely prescient tale in many ways. I won't talk about the climax too much as I don't want to spoil it, but once you've read it you'll know what I'm talking about. And mirroring the book's central theme, there's the increasing popularity of reality TV in our society, which is disquieting to say the least. And while it's highly unlikely that legalized murder will ever make into our reality's programming schedules, the book's game show ideas are still a little <i>too</i> close to reality for comfort. In fact, the film they eventually made, which bears almost <i>no</i> relation to the book (and stars <i>Arnold Schwarzenegger</i> no less), is actually guilty of being the very thing the novel is raging against.<br />
<br />
Yet on a relatively smaller scale, King also does an impressive job of predicting modern in-flight entertainment, as at one point Richards finds himself on a commercial flight and sees Free-Vee screens built into the back of every seat with touch-screen channel selectors. Which is almost <i>exactly</i> the kind of thing air passengers find on most international airlines today. And remember, this was written back in 1971, where the most you could hope for on a flight was that they'd pull down an old projection screen at the front of the cabin and let you watch an out-of-sync movie that you'd already seen.<br />
<br />
So, not bad going there, Steve. Not bad at all.<br />
<br />
But although I love this book, I can't totally ignore the few problem areas dotted around. Especially as they're kind of hard to miss. For a start, King sometimes makes the segregation between rich and poor a little <i>too</i> literal. At one point, Richards is driving down a main street in public view, and King actually has the poor people lining the sidewalk on the left-hand side and the rich people on the right, while Richards passes between them. Now I like a good metaphor as much as anybody, but come on. <i>Seriously</i>?<br />
<br />
Then there's the 'Running Man' game itself. Which doesn't actually make a whole lot of sense when you stop to think about it. And I'm not talking about the actual concept of the show, which follows a certain kind of logic as a 'run for your life' scenario taken to its absolute extremes. No, I mean what does the viewer actually <i>see</i> on the Free-Vee screen when he or she tunes in to the show? Because the only time they'd actually see the contestant is during the two-minute video snippets sent in to the network - and Richards naturally makes sure to show as little as possible when taping himself. And logic also dictates the Network can't show what the Hunters are up to either, as Richards would only need to tune in to know how close or far away they are to catching him. So it seems the most popular show on TV is one where all you see is a heavily made-up MC riling up the crowd with hyperbole for hours on end. Now I don't know about anyone else, but to me that sounds like the dullest show imaginable.<br />
<br />
And then there's the characterization. Or, rather, lack of it. Which is not something you normally associate with King, who's always taken great care to make even the lowliest of characters come alive on the page. Unfortunately, most of the supporting cast in this one are just line drawings waiting to be coloured in. The good guys are good, the bad guys are bad, etc. Richards is the exception, of course, as we see the journey through his eyes and experience his thoughts and hopes. But even he's kept an enigma for the most part. Which isn't actually a criticism - there's certainly nothing wrong with a little mystery in the main character. To be honest, now that I think about, it's more likely that King simply made a conscious choice from the start to forsake characterization so as not to derail the pace. His previous book, the very similar "Long Walk,' is the exact opposite. In that one the characters are rich, but the pace suffers a little as a result. Plus, they're <i>walking</i>, which doesn't help.<br />
<br />
But, to paraphrase Alan Partridge, 'I'm nitpicking.' The positives <i>far</i> outweigh the negatives in this one. As far as I'm concerned, THE RUNNING MAN remains a great thriller that I can read again and again without ever tiring of it. I like the main character. I like the dialogue. I like the concept. I like the themes. And I especially like the pace. King once again demonstrates, even at this early stage, that he's a master at grabbing a reader from the first page and not letting go until the last line.<br />
<br />
<br />Jason Deanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503504193660789306noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114167733388702683.post-10886959180111524082013-06-28T16:19:00.000+07:002016-03-29T18:04:56.799+07:00Great 'Forgotten' Thrillers: OPERATION DEATHMAKER by Dan Marlowe<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Ever heard of Dan Marlowe before? No? Well, that's not too surprising - very few people have, which is a real shame. However, it <i>is</i> possible you happened across the name inadvertently in Stephen King's 'The Colorado Kid.' Published by Hard Case Crime, the novella's a very minor and mostly forgettable effort from King, but it does have a couple of things going for it. One is the great cover by Glen Orbik - which incidentally has <i>nothing</i> to do with the actual story itself - while the other is the nice dedication from King at the beginning, which reads: "With admiration, for DAN J. MARLOWE, author of 'The Name Of The Game Is Death': Hardest of the hardboiled."<br />
<br />
And he's right. 'The Name of the Game is Death' is one of the hardest-boiled crime thrillers I've ever come across, and believe me I've read quite a few. In it, an unnamed heist man - who sometimes goes under the alias of Chet Arnold, and sometimes Earl Drake - goes on a rampage as he attempts to track down the killers of his partner and recover the money owed him. To label the character as single-minded and ruthless would be a major understatement. He's more like a force of nature, cutting a violent swath through the landscape as he chases after the foolish people who've screwed him over. Reading it you just know it's all going to end in tears, which it ultimately does for pretty much everyone involved.<br />
<br />
That book came out in 1962 (the same year Richard Stark's very similar Parker character was first introduced) and not only received a lot of respect from within the industry but sold in fairly good numbers too. Afterwards, Marlowe wrote a number of mostly excellent standalone crime thrillers (e.g. 'Strongarm,' 'Never Live Twice,' 'Four For The Money,' 'The Vengeance Man'), but none of them proved to be the breakthrough success he craved. Then in 1969 one of his buddies urged him to bring back the 'Name Of The Game Is Death' character for a sequel, and suggested this time Marlowe give him the permanent name of Earl Drake.<br />
<br />
Marlowe accepted the challenge and quickly came up with a worthy follow-up called 'One Endless Hour,' in which Drake spends much of the novel recovering from the appalling burns he suffered at the end of the previous book. As a result, he not only becomes expert in the use of make-up (initially to cover up his numerous scars), but also assembles a collection of toupes with which he can disguise himself depending on the situation. The rest of the novel follows Drake as he attempts to set up a daring new bank heist to finance his new life.<br />
<br />
I don't have any figures in front of me, but I'm guessing the book must have sold fairly well because it was at this point that Marlowe's publisher asked him to develop a whole <i>series</i> of books starring Drake. But the offer came with two very important conditions: 1) Drake would have to be toned down considerably from the near psychopath of the first two books, and 2) they wanted him turned into a secret agent type, since those were the kinds of books that were selling at the time. Perhaps against his better wishes Marlowe complied, quickly softening Drake's rougher edges and turning him into a very reluctant freelance undercover agent for the CIA. He even brought back Hazel, the big tough redhead Drake bedded in the first book, and turned her into his regular girlfriend.<br />
<br />
And so a series was born. Over the following seven years Marlowe wrote a total of ten additional Drake novels, each one immediately recognizable by the word 'Operation' in the title. Also, to underline the ongoing series aspect and to provide the reading public with a memorable gimmick, Drake was now given the tagline: 'The Man with Nobody's Face.'<br />
<br />
It's a very hit and miss series, it has to be said. The next two books ('Op. Fireball' and 'Op. Flashpoint') are both solid examples of their type - especially 'Flashpoint' which won the Edgar Award for Best Paperback Original - and feature a Drake who hasn't <i>completely</i> lost his rawness of old. But the four that came after those ('Op. Breakthrough,' 'Op. Drumfire,' 'Op. Checkmate,' & 'Op. Stranglehold') are mostly pretty forgettable potboilers, partly because the espionage plots simply aren't that interesting and partly because Drake's CIA superior, Erikson, starts taking center stage for some reason, and he's even<i> less </i>interesting. So in effect Drake almost becomes a supporting character in his own series, which is pretty weird to say the least. Especially when you consider the books are all written in first-person. Anyway, starting with book no. 9 ('Op. Whiplash'), Marlowe finally gained some control over the direction of the series and ditched the espionage elements entirely - along with the seriously dull Erikson - and allowed Drake to simple exist as himself again.<br />
<br />
And this is where the series became fun again. That ninth volume is a satisfyingly rough and ready sequel to the original 'Name Of The Game', while the tenth and twelfth volumes ('Op. Hammerlock' & 'Op. Counterpunch'), with their interconnected Mexican-based revenge plots, work almost as a two-parter - and a pretty good one at that. But it's the eleventh Drake thriller, the standalone 'Operation Deathmaker,' that really stands out for me. Admittedly it's not as riveting as the first two Drake novels, but in my opinion it easily outshines all the other books in the series.<br />
<br />
The whole story takes place over a 36-hour period, and like the rest of the series it's all told in first-person. We start with Drake as he drives Hazel's teenage niece, Melissa, to LA International Airport. She's been visiting for a few days and now has to head back east in time for the new college semester. But before they can even get to the terminal, two armed men assault them in the parking lot and one of them knocks Drake out with a gas bomb. Waking up to find Melissa gone, Drake speeds back to the motel and updates Hazel on the situation and then gets a call from the kidnappers who order him to drive to a specific pay phone for further instructions.<br />
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At the same time, Hazel spots a junkie breaking into their car parked across the street and heads outside to confront him. She's only yards away when the junkie turns the ignition and the car explodes, seriously injuring Hazel in the process. Drake, aware that the bomb was meant for him and that his criminal background immediately puts him at the top of any suspect list, enlists the help of Valerie Cooper, another motel guest with whom they've become friendly, to take care of Hazel and the cops while he speeds off to the designated pay phone to await the kidnappers' next call.<br />
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And that's just the first chapter.<br />
<br />
The rest of the book's perhaps not quite as frenetic as that opening, but Marlowe still manages to keep things bopping along at a rapid pace as we follow Drake's increasingly desperate efforts to get Melissa back in one piece. Like the others in the series, 'Operation Deathmaker' is only a brief read at 176 pages, and because of the first-person storytelling there are no real sub-plots to speak of. This means everything's stripped down to simple cause-and-effect, which works really well for stories like this one - where urgency is key.<br />
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But I think there are also a number of other reasons why 'Deathmaker' works so much better than the three mentioned above. For a start, it's great to see Drake working solo for the first time since 'The Name Of The Game...' and 'One Endless Hour.' Hazel's a strong character, but that's not always a good thing in a series such as this. After all, it <i>is</i> Drake's name on the cover, not Hazel's. In previous books her presence generally compromised his usual hard-boiled approach to solving problems, plus she often helped him get out of a number of rough scrapes which didn't exactly strengthen his character either. But with her now laid up in hospital, Drake is back to relying on his own wits and ingenuity to stay one step ahead of the cops <i>and</i> get Melissa back, and the result is a much more satisfying narrative than usual.<br />
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And that's another plus. Throughout much of the book, Drake has to once more immerse himself in his old criminal life to get what he wants. He simply doesn't have any other options. When the kidnappers give him a 24-hour deadline to get the $400,000 they want for Melissa, Drake knows the only way he can possibly accomplish it is by utilizing his old safe-cracking skills. Marlowe then treats the reader to a detailed account of Drake's planning and preparation of the job. First, he chooses his mark - a heavily protected brokerage firm with a lot of cash in the office safe - and gets a layout of the place, then he gets in touch with an old contact who can supply him with the necessary tools he'll need. Then comes the actual job, which Drake performs with his usual acumen and skill. It's all gripping stuff, with Marlowe portraying Drake as the self-sufficient professional criminal he used to be before Hazel entered his life.<br />
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And the villains are great, too. You really couldn't wish for a nastier bunch of sadists. And when Drake inevitably decides to turn investigator and dig out their identities himself, the reader's with him every step of the way, hoping they'll finally get some of the same treatment they've been handing out to others. (Hint: they do.) And the inclusion of the Valerie Cooper character also adds some nice sexual frisson to the plot, too - something that's been missing from the series since Hazel became a regular supporting character.<br />
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The book's not without its drawbacks, however. For one thing there's the Melissa character - who's kind of a cipher at best. We're barely introduced to her before she gets grabbed by the bad guys so we don't ever really get to know her, and we definitely don't know what she means to Drake or Hazel. In fact, if anything, Marlowe paints Drake as being fairly indifferent to her presence, which makes it all the more puzzling when he goes all out to get her back at any cost. Also, there are a few red flags along the way that should have raised Drake's suspicions regarding not only the kidnappers but Melissa's welfare, but he conveniently ignores them in order to keep the plot moving forward, which is a little lazy on Marlowe's part.<br />
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Although there are one or two other problems areas (including a <i>totally</i> unnecessary dream sequence - a personal hate of mine), on the whole this is still a really strong thriller from a great forgotten author, featuring an interesting anti-hero unafraid to do whatever it takes to get the job done. I also like how Marlowe ends this particular story, as it reminds me of the way Richard Stark finished his Parker novels. Abruptly. Without giving too much away, this one finishes with a very existential Drake musing to himself as he sits alone in a motel room:<br />
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<i> I sat down in a chair with my cleaned-and-oiled automatic in my lap and waited for the money to dry.</i><br />
<i> When it did, I'd check out.</i><br />
<i> Nothing should tie me to the Miramar, but it made sense to use another motel until I could spring Hazel.</i><br />
<i> I didn't feel sleepy.</i><br />
<i> I sat there, smoking an occasional cigarette, until it was time to pack and leave.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>Now <i>that's</i> the way to end a story. No muss, no fuss. <br />
<br />
Unfortunately, there was only one more Drake novel to come before the series came to an untimely end. This was probably due to sales, although Marlowe's serious health problems at the time may have also had something to do with it. But at least the series went out with a bang rather than a whimper.<br />
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Now for a long time the only way to read the series was to pick up old paperback copies from online secondhand stores, and some of those latter books could get quite pricey - probably due to lower print runs. But with the rising popularity of eBooks a large part of Marlowe's bibliography (including 'Operation Deathmaker' and most of the Drake series) has now become available again from <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Ddigital-text&field-keywords=dan+marlowe&rh=n%3A341677031%2Ck%3Adan+marlowe">Amazon</a> - and often at vastly reduced prices. So now you've really got no excuse.<br />
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** For further reading, I cannot recommend highly enough Charles Kelly's superb biography: '<a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Gunshots-Another-Room-Forgotten-Marlowe/dp/0985891106/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1372244155&sr=1-1&keywords=charles+kelly+gunshots+marlowe">Gunshots in Another Room - The Forgotten Life of Dan J. Marlowe</a>.' In what is clearly a labour of love, Kelly recounts an amazing life that was as bizarre as it was tragic, encompassing amnesia, bank robberies, gambling, and plenty more besides. In fact, it's the kind of story that could have come from within the pages of one of Marlowe's own books - proving the old adage that life<i> can </i>sometimes be stranger than fiction.<br />
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<br />Jason Deanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503504193660789306noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114167733388702683.post-78822639890003148472013-06-21T13:58:00.001+07:002014-10-24T11:50:56.181+07:00Great 'Forgotten' Thrillers: BINARY by John Lange, AKA Michael Crichton<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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One of the best things about coming up with new posts for this series is that I now have a legitimate reason to sit back and revisit some of my favourite thrillers again. In some cases for the third or fourth time. I don't know about you but it's not always easy to find time to go over old books when there are so many shiny new ones sitting there on my TBR pile, all waiting to be cracked open. But since my blog now demands I <i>make</i> the time, and since I am but a slave to my blog...<br />
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So anyway, it was while I was rereading the focus of this week's post that I realized I'd only actually read BINARY <i>once</i> before. Which amazed me, frankly, because for some reason it's one that's really stayed with me over the years. Possibly because it's such an overlooked part of Michael Crichton's bibliography, or maybe it's because this was the first Crichton book I ever read which in turn motivated me to seek out all his other books. I'm not really sure. But I <i>do</i> know that it seemed to be much better than I remembered the second time round, which was an extra little bonus I hadn't counted on. I only wish it happened more often.<br />
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But let's kick things off with a brief summary of the plot, shall we? And since I don't want to give too much away I'll keep it to a single paragraph:<br />
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A U.S. Army train is hijacked and a group of armed men take off with two canisters of a top secret and highly deadly nerve agent. John Graves, a State Department investigator, believes a wealthy millionaire named John Wright is responsible and that he plans to use the nerve gas in an attack on the Republican National Convention at San Diego while the President is in town. A battle of wits ensues as Graves tries to figure out Wright's plan before he can put it into effect. However, the wily Wright always seems to be just one step ahead, and with a million lives at risk Graves can feel the clock slowly ticking away...<br />
<br />
There. Told you I'd be brief.<br />
<br />
So what we have here is a fairly straightforward race-against-time thriller set over a twelve-hour time period. Crichton makes it quite clear right from the start. There are 13 chapters in the book. The first comes under the title of 'Hour 12.' The last is 'Hour 0.' So once we get past the prologue - a dry account of the train robbery in the form of an official government report - we're off to the races as Graves tries to outguess his latest adversary before he can wipe out a whole city.<br />
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Now I've heard people complain in the past about Crichton's simple prose (such as Martin Amis, about whom I have absolutely no comment), but I think here it really does work well. Because there's barely a wasted word in the whole tale. No adverbs. No metaphors. No 'clever' turns of phrase. Everything, including the dialogue, is stripped right down to its basics to service the plot and keep the pace going. For example:<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i> They came to the street and ran outside. By his side Nordmann was puffing, red in the face. Graves felt no strain at all; he was tense and full of energy.</i><br />
<i> 'Rope,' he shouted to a cop. 'We need rope.'</i><br />
<i> The cop went off to get some.</i><br />
<i> 'Hurry!'</i><br />
<i> The cop hurried</i>.<br />
<i><br /></i>Hardly flashy writing, but it's nice and tight and it keeps things moving moving moving. And with the absolute minimum amount of verbiage too, which is very much a skill in itself. I'm the same when I'm writing a novel. Sometimes it's very tempting for an author to wax lyrical and show the world how eloquent he is, and that's fine for some. But personally, I much prefer to stay invisible in the background and let the story and the characters take centre stage, and I tend to warm to those authors who do the same. (I think Elmore Leonard said it best: 'If it sounds like writing, I rewrite it.') But that's not to say the book's <i>all</i> technical nuts and bolts. Throughout much of the novel Crichton allows us to experience Graves' thoughts as he sets about his task, often with a little of Graves' dry humour thrown in too:<br />
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<i> He found himself worrying about Wright's new apartment in San Diego. Perhaps this was all a diversion, a feint to get him away from the apartment while something important was done there. He had no confidence in the men sitting across the street, observing and filming. Like every organization in the world, the State Department hired mundane men to carry out mundane jobs. Stationary surveillance was the most mundane. If the men weren't dull when they started, they soon became that way</i>.<br />
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Crichton writes in third-person, but he manages to keep a pretty tight rein on the narrative by focusing on Graves' POV consistently throughout the book. Or <i>almost</i>. As I mentioned, I'd only read the novel once before so I was under the impression he never veered away from the main character at all (much as Roderick Thorp never strays from Joe Leland's viewpoint in NOTHING LASTS FOREVER - see earlier post), but he actually deviates on three occasions.<br />
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The first is when when he devotes the entire 'Hour 8' chapter (unnecessarily, in my opinion) to one of Wright's goons as he helps hijack a couple of trucks whose contents are essential to Wright's plans. And in the final chapter, Crichton moves the camera a couple of times to focus on a pair of cops standing guard outside a certain room. Granted, this one's a little more necessary, but I think Crichton could easily have found a way around the problem in order for the narrative to stay with Graves, because it's kind of a distraction when he pulls away. Admittedly a very minor one, but noticeable nevertheless.<br />
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And it has to be said, BINARY is a <i>perfect</i> title for the book. Not only is it a crucial element of the plot - Wright's file lists him as a mathematical genius obsessed with the idea of 'two component reactions leading to a single event or outcome' - but it reflects the central theme running through the book, which is that of duality. I mean, it's really hard to miss. Crichton points out on numerous occasions how the protagonist and antagonist are mirror images of each other (at one point he even writes, '<i>He and Wright were well matched</i>,' just in case you didn't grasp it the first time round). Both men are also named John, both are gifted chess players, both have similar mathematical backgrounds, both have to win at all costs, and so on and so on.<br />
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In fact, although the narrative takes the form of a running investigation the whole book's set out like a chess match, with Graves and Wright constantly trying to trip up the other without leaving himself open to psychological attack. As a result, one could say that there's very little actual physical action in the story, but you'll find you're too busy turning the pages to notice. Whatever his faults (generally lackluster characterization, for example), Crichton was a real master of the thriller genre and in this one he really manages to keep the pace up all the way to the end.<br />
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I'm writing this and I've only just realized I haven't yet touched on Crichton's use of the pseudonym, John Lange (lange is German for 'long' - Crichton was six-foot-eight), and it's worth a mention. Crichton wrote eight thrillers under the Lange pen name at the beginning of his career, of which this was the last. Printed in 1972, it acts as kind of a bridge between the more straightforward thrillers of old and the techno-thrillers he'd soon become famous for. (By this point, he'd already published 'The Andromeda Strain' under his own name to great acclaim, and the one after this would be the excellent but less popular 'The Terminal Man').<br />
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As a result, this one not only features more of a techno-flavoured storyline than previous Lange books, but Crichton also employs the method he used in 'The Andromeda Strain' of including official documentary 'evidence' to suggest the events he's writing about are based on something that actually happened (the very first words are, '<i>The facts were these</i>:'). And why shouldn't he? After all, it's a great gimmick I'm sure many other writers of the time wished they'd thought of first.<br />
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* Throughout the story, Graves has a fairly antagonistic relationship with his immediate boss, who goes under the name of Phelps. Graves and Phelps. Fans of the classic Mission: Impossible TV series will need no further explanation of the relevance of these two names. A nice little tip of the hat there from the author, I thought, especially as the last act closely resembles a typical episode from the series.<br />
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** They also made a TV movie of the book called 'Pursuit.' Made in 1972, the 72-minute film stars Ben Gazzara as Graves and E.G. Marshall as Wright. I've only seen it once a long time ago and it isn't bad at all, although it's 'made-for-TV' elements are obvious and it lacks much of the excitement of the novel. However, it's notable for being the first film directed by the multi-talented Crichton himself, perhaps as a test run for the far more successful 'Westworld', which he wrote and directed the following year. For those wishing to seek it out, I believe it's currently available on DVD.<br />
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<br />Jason Deanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503504193660789306noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114167733388702683.post-91626816173310532372013-06-15T14:43:00.000+07:002015-03-15T12:26:00.101+07:00Great 'Forgotten' Thrillers: KEEPER OF THE CHILDREN by William H. Hallahan<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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So for the third in this series of blog posts, we're sticking with the seventies again (as we will do for many of the posts to come) for another tight little thriller that manages to come in at just under 200 pages. Except, as you might guess from the cover, this one's not your usual crime thriller. If we're going to go the label route I'd have to say 'Keeper of the Children' is more your 'Horror/Suspense' hybrid, which is partly the reason I like it so much.<br />
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It starts out simply enough. Eddie Benson, a successful TV ad producer, returns home to Philadelphia after a long shoot to find his wife and son at the airport, but no daughter. He soon learns that fourteen-year-old Renni has run away with her best friend to join a cult of beggars under the control of a Tibetan Buddhist monk named Kheim. Quite why Eddie's wife waits until he gets back to give him this information is never adequately explained, but anyway, Eddie soon sees Renni out on the streets with her two dozen similarly-aged cohorts, all of whom wear orange robes and beg for money all day before heading off to the 'temple' where they all bed down, ready to do the exact same thing the next day.<br />
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As it turns out, the police are powerless to act since Kheim isn't actually doing anything illegal. The kids under his roof aren't being abused, they're fed well, clothed in clean robes, and the 'temple' itself is kept spotlessly clean on a daily basis. And when Eddie talks to a group of angry parents in the same position, he discovers that simply 'kidnapping' your kid doesn't work either, as he or she is apparently brainwashed into running back to the temple at the earliest opportunity. He also learns the leaders of this group are planning to deliver documents to Washington proving that Kheim is in the country illegally so they can have him deported. Unfortunately for Eddie, before the evidence can actually be delivered, the group's ringleaders soon begin dying in very odd ways.<br />
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And when I say odd, I do mean odd. For instance, one gets beaten to death by a scarecrow, another gets torn apart by a group of street cats (see cover), while a third has a fatal run-in with a clothing dummy and a golf club. Naturally, it soon becomes all fairly clear to Eddie - and the reader - that Kheim's able to astral-project something fierce (this <i>is </i>the seventies, after all) with the ability to place his consciousness inside a variety of inanimate objects and small animals at will. And Eddie, as the last man standing, is his next intended victim.<br />
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But our Eddie's a resourceful fellow and he quickly figures out that if he's going to get out of this in one piece <i>and </i>get his daughter back he's going to have to fight fire with fire. To that end, he visits a yogi named Nullatumbi, who helps him train his mind in order to do battle with Kleim on the astral plane...<br />
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I'm not sure how old I was when I first read this book, possibly fourteen or fifteen. I was reading a lot of horror back in those days, but then so were a lot of people. Stephen King and James Herbert had a lot to with that, I'm sure. But I think it was probably the blurb on the back cover that did it for me:<br />
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'<i>Alone in a child's bedroom... Eddie Benson listens for footsteps on the stairs. The footfall Eddie is waiting for will not be human. It could be someone's pet cat, or a stuffed teddy bear, or even a smiling marionette doll. But whatever it is, it will have two horrifying qualities: it will be propelled by a diabolical force and it will have only one intention - murder.</i>'<br />
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Now honestly, how could I <i>not </i>buy this book? Especially as I'm fairly sure I once had a nightmare <i>exactly</i> like that, where some unnamed axe-wielding creature was climbing up the stairs to chop me up into small pieces. Or maybe I dreamt it <i>after</i> reading the book, I don't know. All I can say is the book delivered on its promise of offbeat thrills and spills, and that was perfectly fine with me. Especially at that age. I should add that I've reread it a number of times since and while I notice the novel's faults more now, I still enjoy it as much now as I did back then.<br />
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Because there <i>is </i>a lot to like about this book. It helps that Hallaran's a fine writer who's able to give his characters interesting and natural-sounding dialogue. He doesn't allow his prose to get in the way of the story either, and his matter-of-fact recounting of the more fanciful aspects of the plot help make the absurd seem all too plausible. He also does a nice job of foreshadowing right from the start. For instance, we get a sense of otherwordly dread within the very first pages when we sample Renni's slightly ominous marionette dolls (one of whom will play a central role later), and we also briefly meet one of the many stray cats we'll see throughout the book.<br />
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It also helps that the hero of the piece, Eddie Benson, is an appealing lead. Although it's only a short book, Hallahan does a pretty decent job of filling in the man's character so the reader can fully identify with his predicament - which is essential when you're dealing with a plot as bizarre as this one is. I only wish Hallahan had given the villain of the piece the same level of attention, because as it stands Kheim is a one-note character straight out of central casting. Not only that, but we never get his POV at any point, so we don't actually know what motivates him to do what he does. He's simply EVIL and that's that. Nevertheless, his malevolent presence <i>does</i> permeate the whole novel from beginning to end, so who knows? Maybe Hallahan knew what he was doing by leaving him a blank slate.<br />
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Hallahan also paces the book well, so that we're approximately at the halfway mark when Eddie decides it's time to get proactive and take the battle to Kheim. This is the most enjoyable part of the book for me, as with the help of an elderly Indian yogi, Nullatumbi (another one straight out of central casting - the wise and good mystic), Eddie spends fifty pages learning how to master his mind in preparation for the battle to come. On the one hand, the whole idea's totally ridiculous. Of course it is. Even if astral projection <i>were</i> possible it would take - as Nullatumbi actually makes clear at one point - a dozen lifetimes of study to master, yet Eddie manages to get the hang of it in about two weeks - which is pretty good going for a newbie. And a Westerner, no less. Yet you find yourself simply going along with the whole concept since it's being told with such verve and enthusiasm.<br />
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Another point in the book's favour is Hallahan knows how to write action. And not the straightforward stuff either. Without giving away too much of the plot, there's a fantastic scene midway into the book where a stuffed bear does battle with a small stuffed mouse and basically lays waste to a house in the process. They even used the scene for the cover of the US paperback edition (check out my Facebook page for a sample - you can access it from the home page of my website). Later on, there's an even better sequence where a female street cat has a no-holds-barred scrap with an alpha male tomcat - all told from the cats' points of view. It's really great stuff. At the time these were scenes that felt totally new to me and to be quite honest, they still feel that way today. One thing's for sure - Hallahan could never be accused of going the predictable route.<br />
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So what's the downside? Well, the book could possibly have been improved by being longer, perhaps allowing the supporting cast to be fleshed out a little more. Although I have to admit the rapid pace of the story would have clearly suffered as a result. Swings and roundabouts. And I've read the book a number of times and I <i>still</i> can't figure out what Kheim's getting out of this. Okay, so two dozen begging kids probably rake in a fair amount of change on a daily basis, but that's all it is. Small change. Kheim's clearly a bright individual, so couldn't he have aimed a little higher than living off the proceeds of panhandling? And while I'm at it, some of the parents don't seem to be nearly as worried about their offspring's welfare as I'd imagine a parent would be today, which is a little puzzling. Or maybe that's simply the seventies for you.<br />
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But these are all minor quibbles, really. No book's perfect (except maybe 'The Maltese Falcon'), and we can all pick holes. But let's face it, this is not a book you should be taking <i>too</i> seriously anyway. It's just a fun occult thriller that'll keep you glued to the pages, and really, what more can you ask than that?<br />
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<br />Jason Deanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503504193660789306noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114167733388702683.post-73392498349462755472013-06-07T19:35:00.000+07:002013-07-28T17:46:29.191+07:00Great 'Forgotten' Thrillers: NOTHING LASTS FOREVER by Roderick Thorp<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Okay, so we're back for post #2 in what I hope will be a long-running series where I take a look at favourite thriller novels that have slipped under the radar for one reason or another. And I have to say this is kind of an odd one.<br />
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Odd how? Well, while I'm pretty sure most people will already be very familiar with the actual storyline of the novel, I'm not so sure people will be familiar with the book itself. And that's mainly down to two factors. First, I don't think it sold in great quantities on its initial publication and as a result it went out of print fairly rapidly. And two, the movie that ultimately got made of it has now became so ingrained in people's minds that the original source material has been all but forgotten. Which is a real shame, but also kind of understandable when you know the name of the movie:<br />
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DIE HARD.<br />
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That's right. 'Die Hard.' Only one of the most successful and influential action thrillers to come out of Hollywood in the last thirty years.<br />
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I still remember when it came out in the late eighties. I think I must have gone to see it at least three times. Possibly more. (This was back in the good old days when movies stayed in cinemas longer than a week.) And naturally, there was a tie-in paperback version of the original novel which I duly snapped up after spotting it in my local WH Smith. I mean, I was pretty certain it wouldn't live up to the adrenalin rush of the film, but I thought it was at least worth the gamble.<br />
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How right I was.<br />
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But before going any further, I think now might be a good time to give a basic outline of the story, just in case you're one of the seven or eight people on the planet who've never seen 'Die Hard'. It's really very simple and goes something like this:<br />
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It's Christmas Eve. Joe Leland, a fifty-something, widowed, ex-New York cop, arrives in LA to spend Christmas with his daughter, Stephanie Gennaro, a high-powered executive at Klaxon Oil, and her two children. He shows up at her place of work, a forty-story building in downtown LA, during the Christmas party. Unfortunately, twelve German terrorists also show up, quickly taking over the whole building and grabbing the 75 attendees as hostages. But they miss the 76th, Leland himself, who armed with only his service piece and knowing full well the kind of people he's dealing with, decides the only way to get his daughter and the others out safe is to do it himself. Thus begins a lethal game of cat and mouse as Leland runs around the skyscraper attempting to pick off the terrorists one by one before they can get to him.<br />
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I'm not sure how long it took me to read the book. Three hours, maybe four. At 232 pages it's only a short novel, and believe me, those pages really flew by that day. But once I'd finished, I came away with two major impressions: (1) the book was just as thrilling as the film, if not more so, and (2) that Roderick Thorp sure could write.<br />
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But what I also really like about the novel is that it's a lot more hard-boiled and a damn sight darker than the movie version, with far more serious themes running through it. Like loss, regret and redemption. The kinds of themes you don't expect to see in a blockbuster thriller (or at least, I didn't when I first read it). And Leland's not a superhero like the character Bruce Willis plays, but a real human being in his mid to late fifties who's scared shitless throughout much of the story, but who somehow just keeps on going anyway.<br />
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I also love the way Thorp chooses to tell his story. Although he writes it as a third person narrative it actually feels like it's being told in the first, and that's because Thorp never leaves Leland's head. Not once. The reader only ever sees what Leland sees, feels what Leland feels, experiences what Leland experiences, which really ups the tension tremendously.<br />
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Another surprising thing is that almost all of the major setpieces of the movie are already right there in the book. For instance, that part where Bruce Willis drops the chair full of C4 down the elevator shaft and blows up half the building? Present. Willis jumping off the roof with the aid of a fire hose while SWAT helicopters blow up all around him? Leland does it first in the book. And while Leland doesn't crack wise quite as often as Willis does in the film, he still gets a few good zingers in there every now and then.<br />
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For instance, my favourite's probably the moment when right after killing one terrorist, Leland then tells him, <i>'When you see what's coming, Skeezix, you're going to be glad you're dead,</i>' before throwing him off the roof with a triumphant, <i>'Geronimo, motherfucker!'</i> (Oddly enough, the film-makers left out the first part, but kept the second).<br />
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Or there's the occasionally witty repartee between Leland and Al Powell, his younger police counterpoint down on the ground:<br />
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<i> 'Now how do you make the situation?'</i><br />
<i> 'The roof is easier to defend than to take. They're very heavily armed and - '</i><br />
<i> 'How about you?'</i><br />
<i> Leland thought of the Browning and that Little Tony might be listening. 'I'm in business,' he said.</i><br />
<i> 'How do we recognize you?'</i><br />
<i> Leland smiled. 'I'm black. I wasn't when I started, but I am now.'</i><br />
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And did you know that 'Nothing Lasts Forever' is actually a sequel to an earlier novel of Thorp's called 'The Detective'? That one <i>was </i>a hit in the late sixties and Hollywood also made a film of it, just like they did with this one. And guess who played the role of Leland. Give up? Frank Sinatra. That's right, <i>Frank Sinatra</i>. (So if you ever get a Trivial Pursuit question that asks you what connects Frank Sinatra and Bruce Willis, now you know.)<br />
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Although accounts vary, it seems Thorp started writing the novel after seeing 'The Towering Inferno' (or after reading 'The Glass Inferno') and when he went to sleep that night he began dreaming about a man being chased through a skyscraper by men with guns. '<i>Not a bad idea for a novel</i>,' he thought (probably) and got to work. As you might expect, upon publication the movie rights were snapped up pretty quickly and a screenplay produced. First choice for Leland? Sinatra, of course. Despite the fact that he was in his mid-sixties and hadn't acted in a decade. Naturally, he turned it down. Next choice? Robert Mitchum. Who also turned it down with the quite reasonable comment that he sure wasn't going to start running around and jumping off buildings at his advanced age. But Robert Mitchum as Joe Leland. It's an enticing thought, isn't it?<br />
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To be honest, I could go on raving about this book for another fifteen paragraphs, but I think I've got my point across already. But just in case I haven't, I hereby declare 'Nothing Lasts Forever' AKA 'Die Hard' by Roderick Thorp to be a stone-cold classic which should be read by all serious thriller fans, post-haste.<br />
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And what's more, you don't even have to pay over the odds for it anymore. I recently found out it's been republished in paperback and it's also available on Kindle.<br />
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So what are you waiting for?<br />
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<br />Jason Deanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503504193660789306noreply@blogger.com0