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Chances are, this is the only pro wrestling and/or mma post I'll ever put up [Jul. 10th, 2009|12:13 pm]
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[Current Mood | cynical]

And because it's something of a niche interest, it's handily placed behind a cut. 

So, I was talking to a friend about UFC 100, )
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Non Spoiler-y Torchwood Review [Jul. 7th, 2009|11:02 am]
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[Current Mood | awake]

Huh.

So that's what a very, very good episode of Torchwood looks like. 

And now a Spoilery review )
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Persistence of Vision [Jul. 5th, 2009|10:34 pm]
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[Current Mood | weird]

   Had a good day today.  Our sixth wedding anniversary (Dear GOD) which netted Kate an iron (well...metal) butterfly from me, an Invincible Iron Man t-shirt (Appropriate AND geeky!) from her to me and the Bourne trilogy on DVD because...Matt Damon...hits...people.

Shut up.

   Anyway, as is sometimes the case, these days become a kind of State of the Al conversation for a while about how the writing's going, what's going on, how happy I am, that kind of thing.  Right now, I am, cautiously, fairly happy.  There are some interesting things out there which, of course, in the immortal words of Matthew Lillard guaruntees NOTHING but they are, in fact out there.

   I think, largely, in quotes.  Which is a horrible thing to do but it's how I'm built (I am, as I type this, hearing Nigel Hawthorne in Firefox, FIREFOX for God's sake, saying 'You must think...in RUSSIAN'.  Anyway, there's a line from Kiss the Girls (Morgan Freeman, Carey Elwes, Ashley Judd and largely average) about how boxing is ten percent talent and ninety percent wind.  Man's got a point, and it can be applied to writing too, as Elisabeth Bear does in this salient post right here.

   I do some of these.  I should do more.  To do that, I need to get more hopeful, more confident.  To get more hopeful and confident I need t send more stuff out.  And Chris Barrie has just turned up in my head saying 'I'm the Rimmer who's with the Lister from the double double future and I think it's fair to say this is where things get a LITTLE bit complicated...'

   So, go read Ms Bear.  I have, and will more than once again no doubt.

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(no subject) [Jul. 2nd, 2009|10:38 pm]
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[Current Mood | relieved]

Hi:)  Welcome to the book filter.  I submitted my novel today. 

First time, anywhere. 

Ever. 

Five chapters, a cover letter, a synopsis.

   The chances are, of course, lousy.  Not because it's a bad book, it's not and that's an admission I'd find it very, very hard to make even two weeks ago.  No, the simple truth of the matter is I'm an unknown quantity with what could politely be called a slim short fiction back catalogue.  I'm not a good prospect, I am, in fact, a pretty awful one.

But.

It's out there, for the first time ever.  And tonight, that's enough.

Now we play the waiting game...
...
...
...
Screw the waiting game, let's play Hungry Hungry Hippos
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Hivemind Request-BenBella Books Editorial Email [Jun. 24th, 2009|11:41 am]
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[Current Mood | sore]

Good morning:)

   Would anyone happen to have a contact email for BenBella Books aside from the generic contact address?  I'd quite like to talk to anyone on the editorial staff if possible.

Cheers:)
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Cat Valente, Working Live [Jun. 11th, 2009|11:08 pm]
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[Current Mood | calm]

Cat Valente is a particularly kick ass author who has had an unusually bad time thanks to the Economic downturn.  She's come up with a very imaginative way of dealing with this which deserves attention, admiration and crucially, if you can afford it, donations.  If you can't donate it's no problem, but if you could pass the word around that would be great.
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A Sort of Homecoming Chapter 2 [Jun. 5th, 2009|10:12 am]
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[Current Mood | energetic]

A Sort of Homecoming

Chapter 2

Apres Moi

 

Thirty six hours ago, she'd been happy )  

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Music Gonkery 0-Pre Flight Check [Jun. 4th, 2009|04:26 pm]
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[Current Mood | frustrated]

Oh yes, more of THIS is coming.  You see, each part of A Sort of Homecoming is named after a very specific song which is in turn, particularly relevant to the plot of that chapter.  And, each Monday, the song from the previous episode will be posted in youtube form on here.  Like a soundtrack!  Only free!  And not in the bad way!

So, next week short pieces on A Sort of Homecoming by U2 and Evidence by Faith No More.  Now, as a very small taster and because it's an incredibly beautiful piece of music, Make You Feel My Love by Adele



It's really hard to do something so well and make it sound so simple.  Crucially, the thing that sells me on it is the humour.  Under these desperate, heartfelt, incredibly romantic lyrics there's this tiny little hint of self knowledge, the smallest shard of humour.  Yes it's passionate and heartfelt and soaring but when it comes down to it there's a hint of a smile behind the heartache.  It's charming in the best possible way and as a result, it's very easy to love.

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(Serial) Metro East-A Sort of Homecoming Week 1 [May. 28th, 2009|01:36 pm]
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[Current Mood | accomplished]

 For [info]wpeters  and to see if I could:)

A Sort of Homecoming

1

Evidence

 

Andrea Pelko was paid to watch.  She had other duties, certainly, but fundamentally she was paid to watch people, to read them and if necessary to act against them. She enjoyed the fact she was good at her job but some days she couldn't help but wonder about the people she was watching.

She took a left at the far end of the departure concourse, turned and started her run down the other side, eyes moving in a constant, steady motion.  The concourse was lined with the sort of shops you only ever seemed to find in airport concourses, socks, booze, perfume, the holy trinity repeated up and down the half mile run with only the occasional, increasingly self conscious looking souvenir stand to break them up.

The people were the same too, filtered into civility by her colleagues on the security gates and the hundred sniffer bots that trundled around the departure gates, searching for drugs and explosives with methodical, dogged enthusiasm.  The desperate, the lonely, the stupid, they got filtered out back there.

Andrea got the fun ones.  She got the businessmen taking their prescription' meds, the hookers who'd made it through with a fake departure ticket or a bribe and were wandering the concourse, pretending to shop.  Once, she'd even had a quiet, desperate young woman come up to her and tell her she was covered in explosives. Andrea had looked at the woman's skin tight dress, noted the remarkable lack of packets of plastic explosive, bought her a cup of coffee and called psych services.

But sometimes, she knew, she'd get the smart ones, the odd ones. The ones with something to prove and the will to prove it. Then, decisive action would need to be taken and that was why Andrea Pelko was in the departure concourse.

Which was why she noticed the tall man by the windows. He was broad shouldered, had close cropped black hair and was standing at something close to parade rest.  His hands clasped and unclasped behind his back, his gaze was fixed dead ahead and he gave every appearance, at first, of waiting for a plane.

Then she looked closer and saw the bulge under his right shoulder.

Quietly, out of his eye line, she moved across the concourse,

unbuckling her holster as she did so.

 

'Morning, sir. How are you today?'

'Been better. How about you?' He hadn't moved.  English accent.

'Could you turn around please, sir. Slowly.'

He obeyed, arms by his sides, palms out. 'Funny how we're trained

to spot differences isn't it? Tall, quiet, off by myself, foreign accent.' He smiled. 'I tend to stand out.'

Andrea's hand moved, very slightly, away from her gun. 'You on the job?'

The big man smiled. 'Yeah. ID's in my top pocket, don't mind if I?' She shook her head. 'Excellent.' He reached into his jacket and handed her a leather wallet.  On one side of it was a detective shield, on the other a warrant card.

'Albert Duffy. Tech East.  How are you doing, Officer Pelko?'

She handed the wallet back.  'Better now. Sorry Detective, it's just-'

Duffy raised a hand.  'No problem. If it makes you feel any better, a lot of people don't believe the shield's real once they hear me speak.'

Andrea smiled. 'Were you born in England?'

'New Jersey actually, just went to school there.'

'Sorry to hear that, sir.'

He raised an eyebrow. 'Ohhh, a Brooklyn girl. Should have known.'

She grinned, let the expression fade. 'What are Tech doing out here, sir?  If you don't mind me asking.'

'Nothing for you to worry about, everything for me to. I'm meeting an old friend.'

Andrea cocked an eyebrow. 'What's her name?'

'What makes you think it's a she?'

'What makes you think I'm an idiot?'

He laughed, a big booming sound. No one else seemed to notice.

'Her name's Izzy.  She's my partner, used to-technically...it's complicated.  Been away for a while.'

'When's she due in?'

'Any time now.'  His face clouded a little, an expression Andrea had seen dozens of time before on dozens of different faces.

'She your friend?'

'She's my partner.'

Andrea nodded. 'Good answer. The only thing that matters is the person next to you. Remember that, you're golden.'

Duffy's smile returned. 'Are you ex-Ranger by any chance, Officer Pelko?'

She nodded. 'Eight years. Mustered out two years ago to come here.'

'You like your job.'

'I like it better than Afghanistan.' She paused. 'How obvious is it?'

Duffy leaned against the railing, glanced around them at the other people in the concourse. Andrea realised he was covering her beat whilst she talked and felt a sudden rush of tremendous relief, a burden being laid down.

'You can learn to walk like a cop but you can never forget how to walk like a Ranger.'

'Good.' She nodded, almost to herself. 'Don't know how to be anything else.'

'Me neither.' That's half the problem, Duffy thought, but didn't say. Andrea was about to speak again when the arrivals board at the far end of the concourse updated and a precise, English voice echoed along it's length.

'ChechenAir Flight Seven Seventy now arriving at Gate Fifteen.'

Duffy's face tightened. There was nothing he wanted to do more than keep talking to Andrea Pelko, to ask her about her time in the forces, about what she was working in Airport Security for and, crucially, what she was doing later. There was nothing he wanted to do less than go and meet the plane.

He clapped his hands. 'That's me.'

'Nothing you can't handle, Detective. If it is? Call me.' To the surprise of both of them, she squeezed his arm, turned and walked back into the crowd.  Three steps out, he called after her.

'What's your first name?'

She turned, grinned, fired him a sloppy salute.  'Andrea.'

 

Albert Duffy watched her go, watched her slip back into the constant vigilance she was trained for. He made a mental note to come out to the airport more often, took a second to savour the moment then turned and headed towards the gate. Perhaps by the time he got there, he'd have worked out how to tell what he'd been told the previous night. A phonecall, just before midnight, Wayne Lester's voice tight with adrenalin and something close to fear.

'Duff, we've found her father. We think he's alive.'
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Three Things From My Head [Apr. 28th, 2009|04:30 pm]
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[Current Mood | amused]
[Current Music |Regina Spektor-Fidelity]

1.  The 2008 remake of The Andromeda Strain is really good.  To clarify, it's really good if you happen to like serious people, all of whom are very clever, sitting around a table in an underground silo trying very very hard to make sure we don't all die.  Oh and there are nukes.  And the cast is ridiculously good (Andre Braugher, Christa Miller, Ricky Schroder, Benjamin Bratt, Daniel Dae Kim, Eric McCormack).  And there are about four 'It's this!  No actually it's this!  Oh SHIT!' moments.  I liked it muchly, but this is very much the sort of SF I groove on.

Oh if you're one of the six other people looking forward to Stargate:Universe, Justin Louis turns up in it as the improbably named Colonel Ferrus.  It's not a massive spoiler to say he's distinctly eeeeeeevil in this but I suspect will be much cuddlier on SG:U.

2.  Torchwood episode one, Everything Changes, is actually much better than I remember.  It's a completely servicable, entertaining pilot.  Still can't really face watching the rest of series 1 again (The metal pants!  Dear Lord the METAL PANTS!  The rubbish cannibals!  The stupid bickering!  The godzilla sized demon under Cardiff!  It makes even less sense as short sentences!) but it's nice to see that there's actually something usable there.  Plus, I am, of course, giddy as a schoolboy about Children of Earth.

3.  What's better than whining about Torchwood being a bit crap?  Berating fandom for whining!  Gaze in awe upon the doublethink of Al at this location!


http://www.sfx.co.uk/page/sfx?entry=blog_cheer_up_our_genre

The piece was originally titled 'Cheer up, mopey!  It's the future!' but that, much like the Judoon singing 'I'm a Gnu' in one of my Doctor Who adventures (Called JUDOOM!  Cos you just have to) was an example of what happens when I get a bit over excited and need to have a lie down

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Free Crap Monday-Ellie Danger, Girl Daredevil [Apr. 27th, 2009|02:41 pm]
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[Current Mood | okay]

And here's a longer piece, hopefully hidden behind a cut.  Multiple variants of this and the other one in the series have been produced and none have sold so it's benched for now.

Ellie Danger, Girl Daredevil )

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Free Crap Monday [Apr. 27th, 2009|02:29 pm]
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[Current Mood | discontent]

For it is decreed!  There will be one of these when I have stuff to put up/stuff no one will buy!  Taste my benificience!

First off, a Flash Story, originally written for Weird Tales' spam competition



 
From her black medical bag to her perfectly tailored surgical suit everything about Tess Markham spoke of competence.  Only her surgical cap, a collision of flowers and barbed wire, stood out.

 

   'Tess?  I'm Alan.'

   She smiled, held a hand out.  'We spoke on the phone.  You have a sick Airfish?'

   He winced.  'Yes.  It's…if you could just come with me.'

 

   He turned and led her across the open plan office.  The calendar plant on the reception desk rustled contentedly as she stroked one of its leaves and, above her head, the room's Airfish circled happily. 

   The corner office he led her to was nothing but windows and the view, the buildings framed by smog below and blue sky was carefully designed to reinforce the company's power, to intimidate visitors.  Tess ignored it, heading straight for the AirFish.

   'Oh look at you…how long has it been like this?'  Sheclimbed onto the table and began guiding the Airfish to a stop.  Its tubular body was swollen and red and as Tess cradled it, Alan could see its skin was peeling.

   'How long has it been like this?'

   'About a week.'

   'And no one said anything?'

   'I wanted to call earlier.  My boss said to leave it.'

   The Airfish's circular ribs were beginning to spasm and for a moment Alan was worried it was going to be sick.  'She…uh…she said it didn't matter enough.'

   'It always matters enough.'  She was running her hands down it's body now, checking each lump, each bone.  'Fetch me my bag, please.'

   Alan handed it to her and she picked out a collapsible sack, carefully guiding it over the Airfish's head.  She motioned to Alan to help and he held the creature in place, its body warm and muscular.  As Tess fitted the bag over its length and sealed it, he suddenly realised what she was doing.

   'Wait that's airtight, it'll kill it.'

   Tess ignored him, instead hooking a small oxygen bottle to a nozzle in the bag.  'Off we go then.'

   'We?'

   She slid off the table, cradling the four foot long creature in her arms and flashed him a wolfish smile.  'How else am I going to get to the roof?'

 

   Tess barged past him as the doors opened.  She ran to the edge of the building, dropped to her knees, opened the bag and the Airfish tumbled out and down in a graceless heap.

   'Why!?'

   'Why are Airfish always hungry, Alan?'

   'I don't ca-'

   'Because they're born pregnant.'  As she spoke, a shower of silver flashed upwards.  The Airfish and a hundred tiny young danced and turned in the sunlight, their sleek cylindrical forms turning and dancing in the light.  Spellbound, Alan didn't notice Tess step closer to him. 

Her hand closed around his as the Airfish swarm broke around them and dived straight down into the ocean of smog.  When she poke again, it was barely a whisper.   'One day, Alan, one day they're going to give us back the sky.' 


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Meme City-50 Little Secrets [Apr. 17th, 2009|03:13 pm]
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[Current Mood | chipper]

ETA: Gakked from [info]k_matic 

50 LITTLE SECRETS
Be honest no matter what!

[ZERO] Who was your last text from?
Office Angels

[ONE] Where was your default pic taken?
Disney Store in York

[TWO] Your relationship status?
Married

[FOUR] Have you ever lost a close friend?
Yes

[FIVE] What is your current mood?
DON'T CHASE ME I AM FULL OF CHOCOLATE!

[SIX] What's your brother's(') name(s)?
I don't have one

[SEVEN] Sister's(') name(s)?
Sarah

[EIGHT] Where do you wish you were right now?
Port St Mary Bay

[NINE] Have a crazy side?
I tend towards the eccentric yes

[TEN] Ever had a near death experience?
No

[ELEVEN] Something you do a lot?
Watch DVDs

[TWELVE] Angry at anyone?
Actually no

[THIRTEEN] What's stopping you from going for the person you like?
Nothing at all:)

[FOURTEEN] When was the last time you cried and why?
The last time I watched Donna's last scene in 'Journey's End'

[FIFTEEN] Is there anyone you would do anything for?
Yes

[SIXTEEN] What do you think about when you are falling asleep?
At the moment, zombies...

[SEVENTEEN] Who was the last person you talked to on the phone?
My mum

[EIGHTEEN] What is your favorite song?
All Star by Smash Mouth

[NINETEEN] What are you doing right now?
Writing an SFX blog piece about Primeval

[TWENTY] Do you trust anyone right now?
Yes

[TWENTY-ONE] Where did you get the shirt your wearing?
Marks and Spencers

[TWENTY-TWO] Have you hugged someone in the past week?
Jim and the dog.

[TWENTY-FOUR] Describe your life in two words?
Pretty good

[TWENTY FIVE] Who are you thinking about at the moment?
My wife:)

[TWENTY-SIX] What should you be doing right now?
Writing an SFX blog entry about Primeval

[TWENTY-SEVEN] What are you listening to right now?
The audiobook of World War Z.  Eamonn Walker, Mark Hamill and Henry Rollins.  HENRY.ROLLINS.

[TWENTY-EIGHT] Who was the last person who gave you a hug?
My wife:)

[TWENTY -NINE] Who was the last person who yelled at you?
Actually no one

[THIRTY-ONE] What is your natural hair colour?
Brown

[THIRTY-TWO] Who was the last person to make you laugh?
[info]ellenscult 

[THIRTY-THREE] Who was the last person to make you mad?
That unique strand of Doctor Who fan who says things like 'I don't criticise for no reason but wasn't the flying bus a little silly?'.  AS OPPOSED TO THE 900 YEAR OLD GUY ON HIS TENTH FACE WITH AN INFINITE TIME MACHINE?!  HIDDEN INSIDE A POLICE BOX?

Ahem.

[THIRTY-FOUR] What animals do you have?
None

[THIRTY-FIVE] Is your hair curly or straight?
Straight

[THIRTY-EIGHT] Hugged the opposite sex in the past 3 days?
Yes.

[THIRTY-NINE] Do you use smiley faces on the computer?
Yes

[FORTY] Plans for the week?
World domination.  And playing Fallout for the first time.

[FORTY-ONE] Are you happy with life right now?
Not entirely, at all, but better than it's been for a while.

[FORTY-TWO] Are you currently jealous?
No

[FORTY-FOUR] What were you doing Friday night?
Getting ready to go to church

[FORTY-FIVE] Have you ever had your heart broken?
Several times.

[FORTY-SIX] Have you ever broken someone's heart?
No

[FORTY-SEVEN] Is there anybody you're really disappointed with?
Not really.

[FORTY-EIGHT] Last person you saw?
My dad

[FORTY-NINE] How late did you stay up last night and why?
Eleven.  Watched Bones and Cold Case then hit the sack.

[FIFTY] Have you ever dated someone longer than a year?
Eleven years with Kate:)

ETA: To correct unintentionally terrifying answer.

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UK Hivemind Request-Vue York Contact Details [Apr. 17th, 2009|08:10 am]
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Morning:)

   So, I need to get some examples of my journalism to the new general manager at the local Vue so he doesn't think I'm a disgusting chancer.  Anyone have any idea how to get those details?  Yell doesn't seem to want to give me anything but the 0800 number and I could do with a york specific one if possible. 
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Big Screen Future - Dark City [Mar. 9th, 2009|08:25 pm]
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[Current Mood | groggy]




'Now you're getting it, John. Maybe one day I'll be working for you.' )

   There are a thousand stories in the naked city, and each one of them will be lived by it's inhabitants over and over again.  The mean streets shift and warp, names change, streets change but the Shell Beach Express never changes and the Shell Beach Express never stops.  Welcome to Dark City, leave everything at the door.  Including yourself.

 

   Alex Proyas' film is as mutable as the city it describes, a story that steals the wallets of film noir and Golden Age science fiction whilst they're not looking and creates something entirely new, entirely different.  It's Bosch with better urban planning, the story of a lonely man walking down the mean streets who may very well be mean himself. 

 

   The story, the world itself in fact, is a puzzle and as a result individual will is second to what roles the characters are obligated to play.  John Murdoch is not so much Rufus Sewell's character as the name he wears to enter the world of the city, as vital and as irrelevant as the clothes he's wearing.  He's not just a murderer but The Murderer, the boogeyman robbed of everything but his name and no longer sure he's prepared to accept his role in society.  Murdoch is a character in search of a different story and the people he encounters are either stereotypes or on the verge of stepping out into the light.  The Doomed Hooker, the Lunatic Who Knows The Truth, the Friendly Relative, the Penitent Wife, the Dogged Cop  all take their turn in the spotlight and even the lesser characters aren't ignored.  Murdoch's belligerent landlord becomes a friendly news vendor, a poor couple become millionaires overnight and the City itself shifts and alters, always growing, always changing, always there. Identity is irrelvant and unncessary, because the City and what lies beneath it is too big, too elemental.  This isn't so much a story about the mean streets as it is one exploring why they're mean and the end result is a dizzying sprint through and behind the scenes of a story that is flimsy and deliberately so. 

 

   The opening narration manages to almost completely negate this atmosphere, as Kiefer Sutherand, doing his best Peter Lorre impersonation as Doctor Schrieber lays the plot out.  The film, certainly on a first viewing, is infinitely more rewarding if this is skipped past and it's no accident that the director's cut removes it. 

   Regardless, the world that Murdoch and Schrieber inhabit, essentially alone, is one straight out of nightmare, a World's Fair that's curdled and stagnated leaving a trail of empty automats and narrow streets behind it.  Proyas lets himself run wild as buildings sprout like plants, staircases expand and at one point Murdoch escapes the Strangers on a rapidly growing chimney.  The world is a stage and Murdoch and Schrieber are the only two actors who've seen a script.  Even Richard O'Brien's Mr Hand, the Stranger who takes on Murdoch's memories to find him can't fit in here, his fake memories too real, too enticing to be ignored and yet built, like everything else in the city, on sand.

 

   Like all puzzles, the answers that lie at the edge of Dark City are, in a sense, a little disappointing.  The journey is more fun than the destination in stories like this and whilst Proyas' hat wearing Strangers are a simply, nightmarish image they become less threatening the more we know about them.  The Strangers' best moments occur in passing, Mr Hand's first murder and the pssing reference to how they use the dead as vessels being the best examples.  The longer they're on screen the less credible they become and it's no accident that the film's weakest sequence is the telekinetic duel between Murdoch and Mr Book, the leader of the Strangers.  It's necessary, both for Murdoch to come into his own and so the final scene can take place but it remains the least interesting sequence in the film.

 

   The film's most interesting sequence follows, as Murdoch, in full control of his abilities thanks to Dr Schrieber, changes the city, adding Shell Beach and, at long last, the sun.  The film closes with Murdoch and his wife, along against an impossibly blue sky and tranquil ocean, beginning the relationship they've had at least once before all over again.  On one level, it's Murdoch's just reward for the hell he's suffered through but on another it's genuinely sinister.  The city has exchanged a group of shadowy architects for one who lives out in the open but whose decisions are still influenced by his own desires.  The mean streets may not be mean anymore but that's only because Murdoch wants them to change.   Just like the Strangers, he's in charge and just like the Strangers, no one knows the truth.

 

   Dark City is exceptional, it's that simple.  Proyas juggles the components of story with elegance and grace to create a film which is as timeless and as versatile as any of the classics of film noir or any other genre.   Visually stunning and intellectually deep, it's a film as intricate and as beautifully designed as the clock at the heart of the city, each scene, each line moving the clock hands a few seconds closer to the city's first dawn. 

 

 

 


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Mr Wheaton is pleased with us:) [Feb. 4th, 2009|04:46 pm]
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[Current Mood | cheerful]

Wil Wheaton!  Cult actor!

Wil Wheaton!  Gamer!

Wil Wheaton!  Writer and journalist!

Wil Wheaton!  Joint holder with Alan Tudyk of the Best 'Oh HIM!' Guest Turn on CSI!  EVER!

Loves the Pseudopod.

Loves it.

I am, BEYOND pleased:)

http://wilwheaton.typepad.com/wwdnbackup/2009/02/podcasts-i-love-pseudopod.html

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(Movies) Eight Legged Freaks [Jan. 16th, 2009|05:45 pm]
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[Current Mood | relieved]

   There are moments in pop culture of pure, total joy, moments where Venkman sings 'Someone's coming to town', where Lindsay Brigman archly suggests it might have been a Russian water tentacle, where with an absolutely straight face, River Phoenix says 'The...young lady with the uzi.  Is she single?'

   Then there's David Arquette at the top of the only signal tower in town, firing a shotgun into a crowd of mutant spiders screaming:

'You EIGHT!'
BOOM!
'LEGGED!'
BOOM!
'FREAKS!'

   There are times when high art is everything, where the discussion and exploration of ideas and character lies at the heart of a great story.  Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Changeling, Gone Baby Gone and countless other classic films take this approach and it's one of the big reasons for their success.

 

   And sometimes, you just need giant mutant animals.

 

   Dean Devlin, Roland Emmerich's long-term producing and writing partner co-produced this and it's interesting to note that a writer who has such a clear love for old fashioned SF would champion a project like this.  Small scale where his previous work was epic in scope, it's oddly similar to both Independence Day and The Day After Tomorrow.  All three films hark back to an earlier set of traditions and all three cut the reverence they clearly have for those traditions with modern sensibilities.  Independence Day has a clear social conscience, The Day After Tomorrow balances environmentalism and political cynicism with waves of super-chilled air that can be outrun, and Eight Legged Freaks has a jet black sense of humor, a cheerfully nasty streak and hundreds of massive spiders.

 

   The plot is a neatly handled combination of comedy and horror, following Chris McCormack as he returns to his hometown and his father's long abandoned mine.  Everything about Chris screams 'tortured hero' from his goatee to the Americana rock playing as he steps off the bus.  What really makes the character, though, is the fact he's played by David Arquette.  Arquette is at his best in roles like this, the American everyman who is so earnest, so sweet, so committed that you almost miss the twinkle in his eye.  He gets the joke and understands that for us to get the joke, he has to pretend he doesn't, an unusually complicated piece of acting for what should be a relatively simple film.

   He's surrounded by one of the best supporting casts the field has seen so far this century.  Kari Wuhrer is effortlessly good as the local Sherriff, balancing her at times impossible good looks with the same sense of humor as Arquette and a physicality that harks back to Ripley, Sarah Connor and Buffy.  If anything, she's the next stage of the process begun by those three women, a lead character who is female instead of a female lead character, any hint of agenda or drum beating lost in the skitter and giggle of the spider horde as they sweep across the town.

   Scott Terra, as her son Mike, is one of the best and least well known child actors in the field, bringing a self-deprecating intellect and humour to the role.  Likewise, Scarlett Johannsen as Sam's daughter Ashley, is completely invested in her role, her intelligence and wit shining through here as it would in The Prestige and much of her later work.

   It's in the next tier down that the film really shines though.  Rick Overton as Pete, Sam's deputy, genre stalwart Leon Rippy as the town's would be tycoon Wade and the magnificent Doug E. Doug as Harlon, the local conspiracy nut DJ, are comedy gold almost every moment they're on screen.  Overton is a wonderful, luckless hang-dog figure who sells many of the film's goofiest moments effortlessly whilst Rippy's self-righteous and self-deluded businessman is a great foil for Arquette's two-fisted hero.  It's Doug though that steals every one of his scenes.  Proud, self righteous, articulate and charmingly paranoid, Harlan tops and tails the film, utterly vindicated by the town's nightmare and making sure no one will forget it in a hurry.

 

   But, of course, the real stars are the spiders.  Massively enhanced by a chemical spill (what else) they set up shop in Chris' old mine.  Jumpers, trap door spiders and a dozen other species leap and lumber through the film with a malicious joy not seen since the Gremlins movies.  The film makes no bones about the lunacy of its premise and even imbues the spiders with definite personalities, squealing with terror, giggling and in one wonderful moment, stalking one of the town's distinctly grumpy old barbers by creeping up behind him in a tent.  They're physically imposing, a constant and real threat and at the same time never once take themselves seriously.  These are giant, chemically enhanced monsters that enjoy their work and that's just not something you see every day.

 

   Co-written by US TV veteran Jesse Alexander and Ellory Elkayem, who also directed, Eight Legged Freaks is a modern B-movie in the best possible way.  There are no surprises in the plot, there is no brave new narrative ground broken and if there were, it would be a much less entertaining film.  As it stands, Eight Legged Freaks can stand with Tremors and Slither as proof that, much like the chemical and radiation enhanced monsters that lie at its core, the B-movie will never quite die.  And, for all the horror the spiders bring with them, that can only be a good thing.

 



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(Movies) Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind [Jan. 13th, 2009|10:41 am]
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   Big Screen Future returns, as once again I delve deep into the DVD vaults.  This week, the best work Jim Carrey has ever done, and that's including Ace Ventura.


 

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This year, next year [Dec. 31st, 2008|10:59 pm]
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[Current Mood | contemplative]

This time last year I was about to first foot for the first time. It was the end of what was the second hardest year of my life and all I wanted was for the next year to be easier because another one that hard would break me.

I pretty much got my wish. 2008 was, in short order;

-The year I almost got a podcast deal with a major publisher.

-The year I almost got paid to write a radio play for the BBC.

-The year I almost got paid to produce a podcast for a major magazine.


It was also the year I wrote for the Doctor Who RPG, got more magazine work than before and gained a small but definite amount of traction. Been a hard year but by and large a good one.

Next year arrives in a little while. I'd like it to be better than 2008. There's a lot to do but I'm actually coming back to work with paid work in hand. That's pretty cool:)

Thanks for sticking with me. There'll be regular updates next year. No really there will be as well as a couple of fun new things I'll be writing about (New job!No pay !More responsibility! Woohoo!).

So to close, a meme for you to do or not, whatever you fancy:)

My 2008 summed up in one piece of music;

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (Main theme) by Jon Brion



My 2009 mindset in one piece of music:

The Quest by Bryn Christopher


Youtube links to follow once m back on a real machine.

Thanks for stopping by and thanks for listening. Happy new year, LJ:)
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TV Memeotronica [Dec. 17th, 2008|10:37 pm]
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[Current Mood | awake]


Gakked from ellenscult.

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