The movie of "The Woman in Black" is far from the first time this story has been told. Susan Hill's novel has previously been a well-received TV adaptation and the second-longest running play on the West End (behind Agatha Christie's "The Mousetrap").
I went to see the stage version last month. If you're in London, I cannot recommend it enough. It's a superb, old fashioned ghost story, and elicits some genuine jumps from the audience. This is particularly impressive considering it's performed with a very small cast. It also (along with the television version) takes liberties with the original novel. In the book, the main character is an old man who tells the story about his youth. In the play, the old man is looking for advice from an actor who helps him to tell his story.
This version is far more stripped down and straightforward, which is good, because the story is fairly simple. A young lawyer goes to a remote area to work on the paperwork of a recently passed woman. While he's there, he starts being stalked by a ghost. To give much more away would be to do you a disservice.
It's not quite as strong as the stage play, but it's still a fairly fresh movie and belies it's 12A certificate by being genuinely quite frightening in places. Some may say that the jumps that are elicited are "cheap", but that's only fair when it's in a movie that doesn't have anything else to offer. The jumps in this are the punchlines to the increasing tension created by each scene - in fact, some of the moments that work best are the ones where you're expecting something to happen and nothing does.
Daniel Radcliffe is good in it, playing a man recently bereaved. He constantly looks pale and drawn out, and actually has to carry a lot of the film almost entirely by himself. In silence, no less.
To give you an idea how well this suceeds, it can be compared favourably to the movie where John Cusack spends a night being haunted by a hotel room ("1408", based on the Stephen King movie of the same name), which was interesting but flawed. Radcliffe comes off better here than John Cusack did. And I say that as a John Cusack fan. And, for that matter, a Stephen King fan.
The film looks beautiful throughout, internally and externally, and it uses darkness better than any movie since "Rec". The cinematography, the design, the lighting - all excellent. Great work by all involved, and all brought together well by veteran Horror director James Watkins.
The only major issue I have with it is that it kind of falls betwixt and between the 12A and 15 rating. It feels like it occasionally wants to be more unpleasant than it is, and I'm not massively keen on the slightly tacked-on ending. While I like the narrative turn, I think the choice made softens what should be quite a hard blow, and that felt possibly a little too intended not to upset anyone too much. It's a shame, because the ending could have been so, so effective, and it's slightly neutered.
Otherwise, though, Jane Goldman is the real star of this one. After Stardust, Kick Ass and X-Men: First Class, she's become the queen of adaptations. "The Debt" was, I believe original, and she cowrote a solid screenplay there, but I'm now massively interested to see if she can turn out something completely original and entirely in her own voice.
Overall, it's mostly successful. It's nice to see the new Hammer Studios working well with the kind of material that the original studio made its name with. Hopefully, there will be more where this came from.
Sunday, 12 February 2012
Monday, 6 February 2012
The Knight in the Library
The forgotten characters sit quietly in the library. They look at each other occasionally with sad and sometimes hopeful smiles.
They are afforded privileges based on age and popularity. After all, an older, popular character has lost more than a minor character in a recent novel.
Once, some of them were loved. Once, some of them inspired people. Now, they sit there, gathering dust.
He is one of the oldest of them. A Knight, who was one of the group that inspired the Knights of Camelot. One of the group who fought alongside of the original King Arthur, but one who had failed to be recreated the second time around, and who had just grown progressively more forgotten.
Every day, he comes in, and sits patiently, hoping to be remembered. He does not complain. He does not feel sad. He is a Knight and Knights have dignity.
Also, every day, he gets to see her. The ancient African princess, who is beautiful, wise and kind. She makes every one of his days better, and the endless purgatory worthwhile. They don't talk much. Nobody talks much after so long. But they always find something new to say each day, and they always make eye contact, and he can always make her smile.
She likes to see him. Some days, that's all that matters.
Today, he waits, and she does not come.
He looks around the library, but she is nowhere. He talks to the world's first detective (a fat Chinese man who laughs a lot) and he talks to the golden calf (that spoke to Eve in the garden and became so popular that God himself got annoyed) but neither of them know why. But neither of them care as much as he does.
The Knight has only rarely spoken to the Librarian. There has never been any need. But today, he clears his throat and enquires after the princess.
"Oh, her? Got rediscovered", the Librarian says. "Some fantasy writer sort of updated her, and the book came out this week. Very good reviews. There may even be a movie. You won't see her back again."
The knight thanks the librarian, and makes his way back to his normal chair, where he sits and waits.
He looks at her chair, but it is empty.
He waits.
And waits.
Waits.
And waits.
Patiently.
They are afforded privileges based on age and popularity. After all, an older, popular character has lost more than a minor character in a recent novel.
Once, some of them were loved. Once, some of them inspired people. Now, they sit there, gathering dust.
He is one of the oldest of them. A Knight, who was one of the group that inspired the Knights of Camelot. One of the group who fought alongside of the original King Arthur, but one who had failed to be recreated the second time around, and who had just grown progressively more forgotten.
Every day, he comes in, and sits patiently, hoping to be remembered. He does not complain. He does not feel sad. He is a Knight and Knights have dignity.
Also, every day, he gets to see her. The ancient African princess, who is beautiful, wise and kind. She makes every one of his days better, and the endless purgatory worthwhile. They don't talk much. Nobody talks much after so long. But they always find something new to say each day, and they always make eye contact, and he can always make her smile.
She likes to see him. Some days, that's all that matters.
Today, he waits, and she does not come.
He looks around the library, but she is nowhere. He talks to the world's first detective (a fat Chinese man who laughs a lot) and he talks to the golden calf (that spoke to Eve in the garden and became so popular that God himself got annoyed) but neither of them know why. But neither of them care as much as he does.
The Knight has only rarely spoken to the Librarian. There has never been any need. But today, he clears his throat and enquires after the princess.
"Oh, her? Got rediscovered", the Librarian says. "Some fantasy writer sort of updated her, and the book came out this week. Very good reviews. There may even be a movie. You won't see her back again."
The knight thanks the librarian, and makes his way back to his normal chair, where he sits and waits.
He looks at her chair, but it is empty.
He waits.
And waits.
Waits.
And waits.
Patiently.
Monday, 30 January 2012
Reverting back to childhood
Do you remember what you were into when you were twelve years old? Are you still into the same things?
I've discovered plenty of new things to be enthused about in the last twenty years, but I'm still very much a fan of the things that I liked then. I still like Sherlock Holmes, I still like Doctor Who, I still like Transformers, I still like comics, and I still like wrestling.
Yes, I'm not kidding about that last one. I'm a huge wrestling fan and have been since I was twelve. I'd heard about Hulk Hogan and The Ultimate Warrior and the Legion of Doom and Jake "The Snake" Roberts, and it all seemed very exciting and over-the-top. When my parents got SKY for the first time, I became hooked very quickly.
It's particularly weird getting to do something new with regards to something that's become a big part of your life. It's a bit like when the new series of Doctor Who started in 2005. You kind of start a new relationship with it and it leads you to re-evaluate things a little.
With wrestling, the relationship changed firstly because I started finding out about what went on behind the scenes. It opened up a whole new avenue, as I got to learn that as big and over-the-top as things were on-screen, they were often as petty and sleazy behind the scenes. I was fascinated.
This ended up leading me to the point where I spent a while working as a Ring Announcer for British wrestling, and got to learn a load of the technical side about the shows and got to chat to a lot of wrestlers. It was a little like being a stage-hand for a magician.
But throughout the years, I had never seen Hulk Hogan live. I didn't see much of him as a kid - he was retiring when I first started watching, and he occasionally turned up for very short runs. For various reasons, I hated him with a passion as I began to learn more about the industry, but in recent years (and, not coincidentally, as he's become less relevant), I've begun to appreciate how well he does what he does.
So, strangely, it was the opportunity to see Hulk Hogan live that led to me going to the Impact! Wrestling show at Wembley Arena on Saturday. Even when my fellow London-based wrestling fan friends couldn't make it, and my girlfriend didn't fancy sitting through three hours of wrestling (and who can blame her?).
It was partially in acknowledgement to my twelve-year-old self. The idea that, twenty years later, the things I enjoyed then, I still enjoy now. Not everyone gets why I like it, and that's fine. There are even people that assume that I'm a bit weird because I like it. That's fine too.
Having never seen him, even on television, the twelve-year-old me would have done anything to see Hulk Hogan live. In the same way that I would have done anything to go and visit the set of Doctor Who, or wander around Baker Street.
I don't know if I enjoyed things on a much more simple level then, and if I constantly try to revisit that. I didn't like things in a complicated way. I didn't have any sense of embarrassment of being a fan of things. Maybe it was a more pure enjoyment. Maybe not.
But for one night, Hulk Hogan finished a night of entertainment by shamelessly pandering to the crowd. He ran in to save some goodies from being beaten up, but before he did so, he looked at the crowd. "What should I do?", he seemed to plead as he looked around questioningly. The crowd responded by roaring approval, so he pointed his finger at the baddies, then beat them all up. He went to celebrate with the guy he'd rescued (James Storm), and left him to bask in the adulation of the crowd. But Storm made clear that the crowd wanted to see Hogan. Hogan looked round, as if he was unsure. So we cheered more, and then he ripped off his shirt and posed for us all. For ten minutes straight. And we all loved it.
For one night, I regressed to being twelve years old. The only important thing was that Hulk Hogan beat up the baddies, then invited us all to celebrate with him.
And all was right with the world.
I've discovered plenty of new things to be enthused about in the last twenty years, but I'm still very much a fan of the things that I liked then. I still like Sherlock Holmes, I still like Doctor Who, I still like Transformers, I still like comics, and I still like wrestling.
Yes, I'm not kidding about that last one. I'm a huge wrestling fan and have been since I was twelve. I'd heard about Hulk Hogan and The Ultimate Warrior and the Legion of Doom and Jake "The Snake" Roberts, and it all seemed very exciting and over-the-top. When my parents got SKY for the first time, I became hooked very quickly.
It's particularly weird getting to do something new with regards to something that's become a big part of your life. It's a bit like when the new series of Doctor Who started in 2005. You kind of start a new relationship with it and it leads you to re-evaluate things a little.
With wrestling, the relationship changed firstly because I started finding out about what went on behind the scenes. It opened up a whole new avenue, as I got to learn that as big and over-the-top as things were on-screen, they were often as petty and sleazy behind the scenes. I was fascinated.
This ended up leading me to the point where I spent a while working as a Ring Announcer for British wrestling, and got to learn a load of the technical side about the shows and got to chat to a lot of wrestlers. It was a little like being a stage-hand for a magician.
But throughout the years, I had never seen Hulk Hogan live. I didn't see much of him as a kid - he was retiring when I first started watching, and he occasionally turned up for very short runs. For various reasons, I hated him with a passion as I began to learn more about the industry, but in recent years (and, not coincidentally, as he's become less relevant), I've begun to appreciate how well he does what he does.
So, strangely, it was the opportunity to see Hulk Hogan live that led to me going to the Impact! Wrestling show at Wembley Arena on Saturday. Even when my fellow London-based wrestling fan friends couldn't make it, and my girlfriend didn't fancy sitting through three hours of wrestling (and who can blame her?).
It was partially in acknowledgement to my twelve-year-old self. The idea that, twenty years later, the things I enjoyed then, I still enjoy now. Not everyone gets why I like it, and that's fine. There are even people that assume that I'm a bit weird because I like it. That's fine too.
Having never seen him, even on television, the twelve-year-old me would have done anything to see Hulk Hogan live. In the same way that I would have done anything to go and visit the set of Doctor Who, or wander around Baker Street.
I don't know if I enjoyed things on a much more simple level then, and if I constantly try to revisit that. I didn't like things in a complicated way. I didn't have any sense of embarrassment of being a fan of things. Maybe it was a more pure enjoyment. Maybe not.
But for one night, Hulk Hogan finished a night of entertainment by shamelessly pandering to the crowd. He ran in to save some goodies from being beaten up, but before he did so, he looked at the crowd. "What should I do?", he seemed to plead as he looked around questioningly. The crowd responded by roaring approval, so he pointed his finger at the baddies, then beat them all up. He went to celebrate with the guy he'd rescued (James Storm), and left him to bask in the adulation of the crowd. But Storm made clear that the crowd wanted to see Hogan. Hogan looked round, as if he was unsure. So we cheered more, and then he ripped off his shirt and posed for us all. For ten minutes straight. And we all loved it.
For one night, I regressed to being twelve years old. The only important thing was that Hulk Hogan beat up the baddies, then invited us all to celebrate with him.
And all was right with the world.
Sunday, 22 January 2012
David Cameron and the British Film Industry
This is a routine I performed at Working Title Comedy at the Big Green Bookshop on January 20th. It went down well, but because it's topical, it's one I may not reuse any time too soon - so I thought I'd stick it up here.
David Cameron said the British Film Industry should concentrate on making commercial successes. Because they're obviously not managing to do so without his help.
It reminded me of a quote by the famous screenwriter William Goldman - he wrote Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, All The President's Men, the Princess Bride...films like that, and he said "When it comes to the movie industry, nobody knows anything", and what he meant by that was that everyone's trying to make a hit, and they're trying to, but everyone makes mistakes.
But I went back to the book where he wrote that, "Adventures in the screen trade", because I was aware that sometimes quotes leave off half of what was actually said. Like in Richard III, where the line is famously "Now is the winter of our discontent", meaning now, things are bad. But what he actually says is "Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by this son of York", meaning that things were bad, but are now good. And I looked at it, and it's the same thing. William Goldman didn't say "When it comes to the movie industry, nobody knows anything. William Goldman actually says "In the movie industry, nobody knows anything...except David Cameron. He does."
Back in the eighties, Stephen Spielberg made a run of three of the biggest movies made at that point in time. Jaws, ET, Indiana Jones....then he made 1941, which was a complete flop. If only he'd spoken to David Cameron before making that film, and he'd have said "No, Stephen, know your limits and make Close Encounters of the Third Kind."
Michael Cimino made The Deer Hunter for the studio United Artists, one of the oldest, most respected film studios in the world, and he followed it up with one of the most expensive films of all time, Heaven's Gate, which ended up being terrible. Left with no options, United Artists gave it a huge, expensive promotion campaign to try and
recoup their massive losses...if it wasn't a hit, the studio would go under, but try what they might...it made no money, and thousands of people lost their jobs.
If only they had called David Cameron. He would have said "Michael, I respect your intention to fulfil your artistic calling, but this film needs a very special dog."
John Travolta, in the mid nineties was in the worst career period of his life. He'd just finished making "Look Who's Talking Now"...(the dogs were talking)...and things were going badly enough that he was grateful for the work. Then, he bumped into David Cameron, who said to him "Have you seen Reservoir Dogs? You should get in touch with the director. Sure thing there, mate". And the two of them remained friends for years, and Travolta had a second spring....and then they fell out and we got Battlefield Earth.
If only he'd continued to listen to David Cameron.
We can presumably look forward to films like "Four Weddings and a Terminator", "Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Predator", "Don't look now, but Justin Bieber is right over there" and "Corialanus 2 - The Dark of the Moon".
The British Film industry has responded in kind to David Cameron, and they've said "What David Cameron needs to do is to just make more jobs and just fix the economy. Rather than tell us that we need to make more commercial films while his government kills off the UK Film Council and blocks a Pinewood Studios extension.
Arsehole."
David Cameron said the British Film Industry should concentrate on making commercial successes. Because they're obviously not managing to do so without his help.
It reminded me of a quote by the famous screenwriter William Goldman - he wrote Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, All The President's Men, the Princess Bride...films like that, and he said "When it comes to the movie industry, nobody knows anything", and what he meant by that was that everyone's trying to make a hit, and they're trying to, but everyone makes mistakes.
But I went back to the book where he wrote that, "Adventures in the screen trade", because I was aware that sometimes quotes leave off half of what was actually said. Like in Richard III, where the line is famously "Now is the winter of our discontent", meaning now, things are bad. But what he actually says is "Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by this son of York", meaning that things were bad, but are now good. And I looked at it, and it's the same thing. William Goldman didn't say "When it comes to the movie industry, nobody knows anything. William Goldman actually says "In the movie industry, nobody knows anything...except David Cameron. He does."
Back in the eighties, Stephen Spielberg made a run of three of the biggest movies made at that point in time. Jaws, ET, Indiana Jones....then he made 1941, which was a complete flop. If only he'd spoken to David Cameron before making that film, and he'd have said "No, Stephen, know your limits and make Close Encounters of the Third Kind."
Michael Cimino made The Deer Hunter for the studio United Artists, one of the oldest, most respected film studios in the world, and he followed it up with one of the most expensive films of all time, Heaven's Gate, which ended up being terrible. Left with no options, United Artists gave it a huge, expensive promotion campaign to try and
recoup their massive losses...if it wasn't a hit, the studio would go under, but try what they might...it made no money, and thousands of people lost their jobs.
If only they had called David Cameron. He would have said "Michael, I respect your intention to fulfil your artistic calling, but this film needs a very special dog."
John Travolta, in the mid nineties was in the worst career period of his life. He'd just finished making "Look Who's Talking Now"...(the dogs were talking)...and things were going badly enough that he was grateful for the work. Then, he bumped into David Cameron, who said to him "Have you seen Reservoir Dogs? You should get in touch with the director. Sure thing there, mate". And the two of them remained friends for years, and Travolta had a second spring....and then they fell out and we got Battlefield Earth.
If only he'd continued to listen to David Cameron.
We can presumably look forward to films like "Four Weddings and a Terminator", "Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Predator", "Don't look now, but Justin Bieber is right over there" and "Corialanus 2 - The Dark of the Moon".
The British Film industry has responded in kind to David Cameron, and they've said "What David Cameron needs to do is to just make more jobs and just fix the economy. Rather than tell us that we need to make more commercial films while his government kills off the UK Film Council and blocks a Pinewood Studios extension.
Arsehole."
Saturday, 7 January 2012
Real Life Simulations
The first of them were basic in form. They can't have been any more than about twenty pixels. They had limited functionality and limited needs. They lived in data memories and fed on commands.
Everybody was told that these things had been invented. As if they were somehow ours to do with as we pleased. And every time they evolved, we were told that the programming had become more complex. Because, obviously, we were making enormous technological leaps forward every single year. And we all believed it, possibly because we wanted to believe it.
My first one was simple enough to catch and fit on a keyring. An LCD display and three buttons. When I was younger, I had sea monkeys, and because they seemed to be a kind of powder, I believed that they'd been made, not simply reanimated on contact with water.
I was never good at feeding them. Not when they swam around in the water, or when I just had to press a button. They had a volume control that, now, seems like an exercise in cruelty. All we did was stop them screaming from hunger. And then we reanimated them with a battery and made them go through it again.
As they evolved, we found more complex ways of keeping them captured. Restricting the data they fed on to CDs and transferring them to files which could be opened and closed at will. We could feed them so many more commands and give them what seemed like a happier life.
I stopped feeding one once, just to see what would happen. He looked out at the screen, slowly becoming less mobile and begging me to help. I'd just override his commands, confusing him. I watched him, over the hours, starve to death. And then I laughed with my friends about it.
If you asked me, I'd swear I didn't know that they could feel pain. But deep down, I knew. I knew and I laughed with my friends about how it turned green and died.
Everybody was told that these things had been invented. As if they were somehow ours to do with as we pleased. And every time they evolved, we were told that the programming had become more complex. Because, obviously, we were making enormous technological leaps forward every single year. And we all believed it, possibly because we wanted to believe it.
My first one was simple enough to catch and fit on a keyring. An LCD display and three buttons. When I was younger, I had sea monkeys, and because they seemed to be a kind of powder, I believed that they'd been made, not simply reanimated on contact with water.
I was never good at feeding them. Not when they swam around in the water, or when I just had to press a button. They had a volume control that, now, seems like an exercise in cruelty. All we did was stop them screaming from hunger. And then we reanimated them with a battery and made them go through it again.
As they evolved, we found more complex ways of keeping them captured. Restricting the data they fed on to CDs and transferring them to files which could be opened and closed at will. We could feed them so many more commands and give them what seemed like a happier life.
I stopped feeding one once, just to see what would happen. He looked out at the screen, slowly becoming less mobile and begging me to help. I'd just override his commands, confusing him. I watched him, over the hours, starve to death. And then I laughed with my friends about it.
If you asked me, I'd swear I didn't know that they could feel pain. But deep down, I knew. I knew and I laughed with my friends about how it turned green and died.
Tuesday, 3 January 2012
Professor Dalson: Lord of Hell
It was a Friday when Professor Bill Dalson died. He was surrounded by his family, and confirmed his atheism to the last.
He woke up surrounded by fire and brimstone. A demon poked him with a pitchfork.
"Come on," the demon said. "No rest for the wicked."
The Professor sat up, looked around, and then put his head back down on the hot floor.
"No." He replied.
The demon regarded him for a moment, before stabbing him (really quite hard this time) with the pitchfork.
"I said 'come on'", the demon said. "You don't get a choice in the matter."
"It isn't about choice," Dalson said. "There isn't an afterlife, so I can't be here."
"But you are here," the demon said. "I know you are. I can see you."
"That's just anecdotal evidence", the Professor said.
The demon tried prodding, poking and stabbing him with the pitchfork a bit further, but Dalson continued to ignore the demon. Eventually, realising he could do no more, the demon went straight to Satan himself.
After some explaining (which, and let's be honest here, did not go well for the demon, who was trying to do the right thing, but that's Hell for you), Satan arranged for Professor Dalson to be carried directly to him, and his eyes held open with thorns.
"Now," Satan said, "You can no longer deny what is directly in front of your face. After all, any kind of science that atheism is a part of means that you should change your belief based on evidence and experience."
"You make a good point," Professor Dalson said, "but how do I know that this is not a dream?"
"Because this is Hell."
"How do I know I'm not dreaming Hell and, indeed, you?" the Professor responded.
"Well," Satan said, growing more annoyed, "how do you I know that I haven't dreamed you?"
"That's my point," said the Professor.
Satan conceded that he had him there, and signed over ownership of Hell to Professor Dalson before retiring to a life of solitude.
And that's how Professor Dalson became the Lord of Hell and how Hell started to run night classes in classic literature.
He woke up surrounded by fire and brimstone. A demon poked him with a pitchfork.
"Come on," the demon said. "No rest for the wicked."
The Professor sat up, looked around, and then put his head back down on the hot floor.
"No." He replied.
The demon regarded him for a moment, before stabbing him (really quite hard this time) with the pitchfork.
"I said 'come on'", the demon said. "You don't get a choice in the matter."
"It isn't about choice," Dalson said. "There isn't an afterlife, so I can't be here."
"But you are here," the demon said. "I know you are. I can see you."
"That's just anecdotal evidence", the Professor said.
The demon tried prodding, poking and stabbing him with the pitchfork a bit further, but Dalson continued to ignore the demon. Eventually, realising he could do no more, the demon went straight to Satan himself.
After some explaining (which, and let's be honest here, did not go well for the demon, who was trying to do the right thing, but that's Hell for you), Satan arranged for Professor Dalson to be carried directly to him, and his eyes held open with thorns.
"Now," Satan said, "You can no longer deny what is directly in front of your face. After all, any kind of science that atheism is a part of means that you should change your belief based on evidence and experience."
"You make a good point," Professor Dalson said, "but how do I know that this is not a dream?"
"Because this is Hell."
"How do I know I'm not dreaming Hell and, indeed, you?" the Professor responded.
"Well," Satan said, growing more annoyed, "how do you I know that I haven't dreamed you?"
"That's my point," said the Professor.
Satan conceded that he had him there, and signed over ownership of Hell to Professor Dalson before retiring to a life of solitude.
And that's how Professor Dalson became the Lord of Hell and how Hell started to run night classes in classic literature.
Tuesday, 6 December 2011
Some things I love about London
I've moved around a lot in my time. I was born in Scotland, lived in England, then Ireland (where my family still lives), then England again. On the plus side, it means I can describe myself as an Englishman, an Irishman and a Scotsman. If I walk into a bar, hilarity is hoped for.
It also means that I haven't really had anywhere that I see as "mine" for most of my life. I was very much an outsider as a teenager in Ireland, and I felt much the same when I was at university.
In recent years, I've rather settled in London. And I've gone from liking it to loving it. So I thought I'd mention a handful of my favourite things.
The Big Green Bookshop in Wood Green
Well, really, I have to mention this. I've met a lot of friends via this place, through the writing group and the comedy night. It's given me the chance to spread my wings with the comedy, which has been immensely more fun than I'd even hoped. It's also led to some incredibly satisfying nights of comedy, even just as an audience member. I've been very lucky.
The writing group has been a pleasure to be a part of, and it's something I would recommend to anyone, anywhere, to consider setting up. It's rewarding and really can help give you further motivation.
Simon and Tim, the owners of the shop, are both fantastic guys - entertaining and smart as hell. They're considerate to customers, and even put up with me when I was out of work and hanging around the shop far too much.
Oh, and they also sell books there. You'll find them on twitter at @biggreenbooks and you can buy books from them at their website.
The Prince Charles Cinema
This is basically cinematic paradise. It's run by people who know their films, both modern and classic. It's cheap as chips, especially considering it's at Leicester Square. Even the popcorn is very reasonably priced.
Highlights this year have included a "Girl with the..." marathon, a screening of "Casablanca" and the "Swear-a-long-a-South-Park".
If you're in London, and a movie-buff, and you arent a member of this place, you should consider it. You'll also get discounts at some places in town with your membership card, including Forbidden Planet and Gosh! Comics.
The Prince Charles Cinema website and twitter.
The Underground
It's just fantastic. It really is. Sure, it's annoying sometimes, especially when it's busy and you're squashed up against someone else in a way that you feel uncomfortable being without buying them dinner first, or when you're waiting around for a delayed train, but do take the time to consider what it achieves.
The next time you're waiting for a train, but when it turns up and is too busy to get on, try and work out how many people are in that carriage.
Then multiply it by the amount of carriages on the train.
Then consider how many trains pass through that station on that line.
Now think about all the other stations and lines.
Yeah. That's a lot of people. The fact that it works at all is somewhat impressive, let alone how well it usually handles the flow.
As something else to think about, why not check out the fantastic posters in their collection?
The Pubs
London has a fantastic pub culture. There are some brilliant pubs in the city. My personal favourites are these:
The Phoenix Artist Club
Located under the Phoenix Theatre on Charing Cross Road, this is a strange mixture between dark, stylish jazz house and massively camp theatre bar. Catch it on the right night, and it's brilliant. It also used to serve popcorn as a bar snack and should really do that again.
The Phoenix
The Angel
Round the corner from Forbidden Planet (my personal Mecca), this is a strange little pub. I keep discovering rooms I didn't know it had. Most recently, I realised it had an upstairs, which holds the really strange experience of feeling like you're having a pint in your nan's living room. And it does wheat beer. Hooray.
The Angel
The Dolric Arch
Formerly the Head of Steam, this is one of the best hidden treasures in the capital (especially for real ale lovers). Most people sit in one of the disappointing pubs in Euston Station itself while waiting for a train, and it's easy to get in and out of the station without having any idea that this place is here, as it's kind of hidden away from certain angles. But it's a real spit-and-sawdust style old pub, with great beer and a lovely relaxed atmosphere. It's a particularly great place to wait for a train. Take a book, sit with a pint and watch the world go by. It's bliss.
The Dolric Arch
Wandering around
I love walking around London. Just looking out for things you don't look at often, or checking out places you haven't been to before. If you regularly walk between two points in London, vary up your route and you're almost guaranteed to find something interesting.
My personal favourite walk is from London Bridge station (via the Hays Galleria) to the Houses of Parliament. You walk along the Thames and pass the HMS Belfast, Shakespeare's Globe, Blackfriars, the OXO Tower, the Millenium Eye... days worth of sight-seeing in a couple of hours stroll. And you can finish it off by walking down to Leicester Square and finding some good food.
Yeah, I was just in a good mood and thinking about London.
Yes, it's busy. Yes, you have to put up with black snot after a week of living there. Yes, you have to get used to moving fast and finding yourself getting annoyed with people who think that the bottom of the escalator at Picadilly Circus is a good place to take a group photo. Yes, you're aware of crime (I've had my phone, wallet and car stolen while in London at various points, thankfully none of the violently). Yes, it's expensive. Yes, there's a lot to get annoyed by.
But God,I love this place. I really love it. And there are plenty of reasons why. These were just some of the ones that came to mind.
It also means that I haven't really had anywhere that I see as "mine" for most of my life. I was very much an outsider as a teenager in Ireland, and I felt much the same when I was at university.
In recent years, I've rather settled in London. And I've gone from liking it to loving it. So I thought I'd mention a handful of my favourite things.
The Big Green Bookshop in Wood Green
Well, really, I have to mention this. I've met a lot of friends via this place, through the writing group and the comedy night. It's given me the chance to spread my wings with the comedy, which has been immensely more fun than I'd even hoped. It's also led to some incredibly satisfying nights of comedy, even just as an audience member. I've been very lucky.
The writing group has been a pleasure to be a part of, and it's something I would recommend to anyone, anywhere, to consider setting up. It's rewarding and really can help give you further motivation.
Simon and Tim, the owners of the shop, are both fantastic guys - entertaining and smart as hell. They're considerate to customers, and even put up with me when I was out of work and hanging around the shop far too much.
Oh, and they also sell books there. You'll find them on twitter at @biggreenbooks and you can buy books from them at their website.
The Prince Charles Cinema
This is basically cinematic paradise. It's run by people who know their films, both modern and classic. It's cheap as chips, especially considering it's at Leicester Square. Even the popcorn is very reasonably priced.
Highlights this year have included a "Girl with the..." marathon, a screening of "Casablanca" and the "Swear-a-long-a-South-Park".
If you're in London, and a movie-buff, and you arent a member of this place, you should consider it. You'll also get discounts at some places in town with your membership card, including Forbidden Planet and Gosh! Comics.
The Prince Charles Cinema website and twitter.
The Underground
It's just fantastic. It really is. Sure, it's annoying sometimes, especially when it's busy and you're squashed up against someone else in a way that you feel uncomfortable being without buying them dinner first, or when you're waiting around for a delayed train, but do take the time to consider what it achieves.
The next time you're waiting for a train, but when it turns up and is too busy to get on, try and work out how many people are in that carriage.
Then multiply it by the amount of carriages on the train.
Then consider how many trains pass through that station on that line.
Now think about all the other stations and lines.
Yeah. That's a lot of people. The fact that it works at all is somewhat impressive, let alone how well it usually handles the flow.
As something else to think about, why not check out the fantastic posters in their collection?
The Pubs
London has a fantastic pub culture. There are some brilliant pubs in the city. My personal favourites are these:
The Phoenix Artist Club
Located under the Phoenix Theatre on Charing Cross Road, this is a strange mixture between dark, stylish jazz house and massively camp theatre bar. Catch it on the right night, and it's brilliant. It also used to serve popcorn as a bar snack and should really do that again.
The Phoenix
The Angel
Round the corner from Forbidden Planet (my personal Mecca), this is a strange little pub. I keep discovering rooms I didn't know it had. Most recently, I realised it had an upstairs, which holds the really strange experience of feeling like you're having a pint in your nan's living room. And it does wheat beer. Hooray.
The Angel
The Dolric Arch
Formerly the Head of Steam, this is one of the best hidden treasures in the capital (especially for real ale lovers). Most people sit in one of the disappointing pubs in Euston Station itself while waiting for a train, and it's easy to get in and out of the station without having any idea that this place is here, as it's kind of hidden away from certain angles. But it's a real spit-and-sawdust style old pub, with great beer and a lovely relaxed atmosphere. It's a particularly great place to wait for a train. Take a book, sit with a pint and watch the world go by. It's bliss.
The Dolric Arch
Wandering around
I love walking around London. Just looking out for things you don't look at often, or checking out places you haven't been to before. If you regularly walk between two points in London, vary up your route and you're almost guaranteed to find something interesting.
My personal favourite walk is from London Bridge station (via the Hays Galleria) to the Houses of Parliament. You walk along the Thames and pass the HMS Belfast, Shakespeare's Globe, Blackfriars, the OXO Tower, the Millenium Eye... days worth of sight-seeing in a couple of hours stroll. And you can finish it off by walking down to Leicester Square and finding some good food.
Yeah, I was just in a good mood and thinking about London.
Yes, it's busy. Yes, you have to put up with black snot after a week of living there. Yes, you have to get used to moving fast and finding yourself getting annoyed with people who think that the bottom of the escalator at Picadilly Circus is a good place to take a group photo. Yes, you're aware of crime (I've had my phone, wallet and car stolen while in London at various points, thankfully none of the violently). Yes, it's expensive. Yes, there's a lot to get annoyed by.
But God,I love this place. I really love it. And there are plenty of reasons why. These were just some of the ones that came to mind.
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