Ray Bradbury: Mainstream with a Message.

While Ray Bradbury was never quite regarded in SF circles with the reverence as the ‘Big Three’ of Heinlein, Asimov or Clarke, it’s inevitably Bradbury who we should think of as the writer who really brought science fiction to the mainstream. A master story-teller who was driven to write everyday for the sake of his own immortality (so he said), no other SF writer of the twentieth century has had quite so much influence in those dominating media of film and television.

While early film adaptations of his work were simply crowd-pleasers that included the pioneering stompy monster of The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms (1953) and the creepy yet misunderstood aliens of It Came from Outer Space (1953), later material wandered into philosophical musings on man’s relationships with technology in The Illustrated Man (1969) and the ambitious TV miniseries of The Martian chronicles in 1979. But perhaps most celebrated of all was Francois Truffaut’s Fahrenheit 451 (1966) based on Bradbury’s book-burning novel of 1953. While his writing always treated the past with nostalgia, his visions of the future were inevitably bleak and none more so than in this tale of a future where books were regarded as something without value. Bradbury famously said of the source novel that he wasn't trying to predict the future; he was trying to prevent it. But in a sense all he was really doing was summing up the job of any writer with a penchant for dystopian futures. After all, the world would be a very strange place indeed if we just went round confidently pointing out that the world is going to hell in a handbag just for the sheer satisfaction of being right. Along with Orwell’s 1984, Fahrenheit 451 is perhaps popular culture’s most famous warning.

Bradbury’s work has continued to be used as source material to this day including Disney’s underrated Something Wicked This Way Comes (1983) and numerous low-budget outings in the noughties. Bradbury even got his own series with The Ray Bradbury Theater in the eighties and nineties, often adapting his own previously published material into its half-hour format.

Bradbury passed away on June 5^th aged 91. We can be sure that, as dumbed down television, inane talent shows and lowest-common-denominator movies continue their inexorable quest for our entire attention, Bradbury noted how the warning of Fahrenheit 451 has been largely ignored in a world dominated by the media he did so much to keep as challenging as he could.

B-Movies, Budgets and Bug Hunts: The Road to Prometheus.

A revised version of this article was published in Scream Magazine issue 15 (Jan/Feb '13).

 

Available here: http://www.screamhorrormag.com/

REVIEW: The 25th Reich

This review has been removed but is available at the website of those lovely people at Starburst Magazine. Just follow the link:

http://www.starburstmagazine.com/reviews/dvd-and-blu-ray-home-entertainment-reviews/2773-movie-review-the-25th-reich

How Bert Weedon Changed the World.

The the most culturally important book in western civilisation?

More years ago than I care to remember, I decided that I wanted to be a Rock Star. All journeys start with a first step and mine was to ask my mum to get me a guitar and a book on how to play it for Christmas. So I got a cheap nylon strung guitar and a book the bloke in the shop assured my mum was all I’d need. I spent that Christmas with Bert Weedon’s Play in a Day and my life has never been quite the same since. Bert wasn’t exactly how I imagined myself. My dad looked cooler than Bert my dad really wasn’t that cool. Bert also didn’t seem to have the faintest idea what I wanted to play; which was hardly surprising, given that he wrote the book in 1957. There were no classic rawk-riffs or tips on sustaining a power chord; instead I seem to remember struggling away on When the Saints Go Marching In and the not-so-awesome Polly Wolly Doodle. And struggle I did. One of the first lessons learned was that Bert was lying; I did not learn to play in a day. I’ve never met anyone who did. Yet I’ve certainly met many who, with Bert’s help, tried. That’s just it; this really was the book that most people used. Some people went and had lessons but that’s no way to learn how to Rock and I sneer in their general direction. Bert’s book is, to this day, the only lesson I’ve ever had. OK, I never did quite become a Rock Star but I tread the boards of the pubs of the South West most weekends nowadays. I certainly don’t do it for the money; I do it because with my axe in my hands I feel the magical control of that big noise coming out of my amp. People applaud and cheer and I feel special. In my own little micro-world, I am a Rock Star. I learned far more from tabs and just mucking about in my bedroom than Bert ever taught me; but it was Burt who got me started. And if you think about how many people have a share in live music and the guitar’s iconic status, it’s not unreasonable to suggest that Play in a Day is one of the most culturally important books in western civilisation. Bert passed away on 20^th April aged 91. Play in a Day will remain in print for the foreseeable future.

Not me, yesterday.

Clevedon Pier’s Ghost Caught on Camera. Could Clevedon be the "Ghost Coast"?

A student photographer believes he has inadvertently caught Clevedon’s famous ‘grumbling ghost’ on camera.

Matthew Hales caught the ghostly figure with his Nikon D3000 while taking time-lapse photographs of Clevedon’s number one Victorian tourist attraction that offer no other possible explanation for the mysterious image other than proof of the supernatural and a comforting  certainty of an after-life.

Beyond terror: The "Grumbling Ghost"

Matthew had been taking the photographs for a school cookery project that had gone alarmingly over budget. “When I went through the pictures I was surprised to see the figure of a man with his head under his arm standing on the pier – although his decapitated state made it difficult to be absolutely certain, it was almost like he was looking straight at me”.

“The technique I was using captures everything which happens for 30 seconds, so he must have been stood there for at least that long to appear in the picture. There is absolutely no way that a normal corporeal being could walk into camera shot and out again in 30 seconds. It simply is not possible.”

Any kind of use for the picture continued to elude Matthew until he saw a story in the Evening Post about ghosts being spotted on the pier by early morning anglers.

“I then checked the pier opening times and saw that it wasn’t due to open until 10am (admission prices £1.50 for adults/£0.75 for children) so there would have been no one on the pier at that time in the morning. Except those early morning anglers, of course.”

Pier Worker Linda Strong, who is clearly no mug, confirmed there had been a spate of recent ghost sightings. “This could well be the ghost everyone is talking about” said Mrs Strong. Ignoring any requests to clarify who exactly ‘everyone’ is in this particular case, she went on to come up with a real doozy: “Perhaps we should call it the ‘Ghost Coast’?” While her colleagues were still congratulating her, she showed her professionalism to the end: “Has anyone mentioned the admission prices yet?” she schmoozed without breaking her stride.

Angler Jack Hulbert was talking about the ghost sightings only last week while wearing a jacket almost identical to the mysterious figure in Matthew’s photograph. Jack often walks about at the end of the pier wearing his nice warm jacket at 6.30am. “As an angler, I come and go as I please. Any idea what the general admission charges for the public are?”

“£1.50for adults and £0.75 for children. Concessions £1.00 and children of three andunder are admitted free. Children under 15 years MUST be accompanied by an adult” added Mrs Strong, aged 56. “I think that ‘Ghost Coast’ idea might secure my promotion.”

20,000 Fathoms salutes them all.

Jack Hulbert in that jacket

REVIEW: The Magic Band at The Thekla Bristol, 4th December 2011

Despite a fairly steep ticket price, a reasonable crowd has come out to the Thekla to see the MagicBand on a Sunday night; one assumes nobody here cares much who is going to make The X Factor final. For some reason it’s almost an entirely male audience but you can sort out what that means regarding the psychological differences between the sexes yourself. After all, this isn’t an AC/DC gig. Like their audience, the Magic Band are old enough to know that it’s a school night and hit the stage at half eight before delivering  just over two hours of what the Magic Band, and only the Magic Band, do. If you’re wondering what exactly that is then you need to know this is the once more reformed backing band of Don Van Vliet, or as you probably better know him, Captain Beefheart. The Magic Band initially reformed sans the then retired Captain back in 2002 and have toured on and off since, disintegrating and reforming along the way. Don Van Vliet’s health problems meant that we were never likely to see him fronting the band ever again but his death last year has made sure that this is the closest you will come to seeing the band in its sixties and seventies glory. And there really is no-one like the Magic Band. Beefheart’s sound was hard to describe; strange avant-garde blues with little in the way references for the casual listener. But when you get it, it’s a thing of beauty; like nothing else you’ve ever heard. Tonight the band are Feelers Rebo and Eric Klerks on guitars, Rockette Morton on bass, and John “Drumbo” French on vocals, harmonica and drums. Sadly Drumbo never actually tells us the name of whoever it was on drums while he is doing the fronting but we’ll have to forgive him. You see, without the Captain, it is easy to imagine that the whole thing wouldn’t work; the presence of that mighty bellowing voice and his earthy charisma were an essential focus to the otherwise inapproachable sound. But Drumbo has been a revelation since the Magic Band’s reformation and tonight is no exception. He hollers and fills the stage like the Captain used to, while the band tear through what is the nearest to a greatest hits package as they’ll ever get. LowYo Yo Stuff, Alice in Blunderland, Floppy Boot Stomp, Moonlight on Vermont all build to the climax of the jitter-inducing Electricity and big guitar sound of Big-Eyed Beansfrom Venus; all your favourites (assuming this is your kind of thing) are here. The sound is aggressive and mercurial and if Drumbo comes across like a demented preacher then he is preaching to the converted anyway. There is no true encore despite the audience reaction; just Drumbo “performing” one of the Captain’s poems in his inevitable style. They could have continued but we’re sent home at a reasonable hour to rise early to face a world that is all the richer for having the Magic Band in it. Long may they continue.

REVIEW: Minima performing with "Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror" (1922) at St Mary Redcliffe Church Bristol 3rd December 2011

St Mary Redcliffe Church on a cold December night. The pews are uncomfortable and, so the chief priest warns us, medieval churches weren’t big on toilet facilities. Nevertheless, this is the chosen venue for The Magic Lantern FilmClub’s latest outing and the gothic surroundings are more than appropriate. The Magic Lantern have been organising classic film screenings in unusual locations around Bristol for some years now and doing sterling work raising money for AWAMU, a charity helping children affected by HIV in Uganda. But tonight is a bit different. Tonight’s film is everybody’s favourite piece of silent and scary German expressionism: Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror (1922). But although many here tonight will have seen Nosferatu before, the fact that the music will be provided by a live band makes this a new experience for most. Bristol and London based Minima are a four-piece (guitar/bass/cello/drums) that have been performing live soundtracks to silent and avant-garde films since 2006 and the oft-screened Nosferatu has become something of a signature piece.

Dressed suitably in black, Minima are seated behind and below the suspended screen, their heads obscured, as the sell-out audience politely stakes claim on the best pews. Slowly, over the course of ten minutes or so, an almost subliminal murmur of sound rises from the band until an audience member shouts, “hey, they’re making spooky noises” and we all realise that the show has begun. Then the lights dim and as Nosferatu’s shaky opening credits roll, the haunting cello theme draws us into its nightmarish world.

It must be said that Minima’s interpretation of Nosferatu is not for the purists. Their sound is reminiscent of a less apocalyptic Godspeed You! Black Emperor and so tonight’s performance bears no similarity to the original 1922 score. But that, it would seem, is the point. With the original music unavailable until recent years, many composers have attempted to come up with definitive new interpretations resulting in Nosferatu becoming a living thing; a sort of dark Fantasia, if you will. Inevitably, these new themes have tended to become dated and, when one considers that Nosferatu’s almost unique quality is its ability to put the willies up an audience today as well as it did ninety years ago, dated accompaniment will not do. Minima’s modern yet organic sound embraces the passage of time since the film’s original release yet is completely contemporary, resulting in a fresh experience that still manages feel appropriate to a piece of cinema’s gothic past. Injections of musical humour may also not be to everyone’s taste but the overall effect is that of moodiness with all the added edge of a modern live band. Over an hour and a half Minima move around a few central motifs through haunting space punctuated by surprisingly upbeat rhythms. As Count Orlok is destroyed by the rays of a new dawn, the music drops back to the solo cello theme we started with. After this restrained and eloquent finale we finally see Minima’s faces as they come to take their bows. Unsurprisingly, despite the enthusiastic audience response, there are no encores, but then it seems there is simply nothing to add.

For more information on The Magic Lantern Film Club, go to magiclanternfilmclub.com.