Song Of A Wayfarer

“Home again, home again, jigitty jig, good evening JP.”

…was what I was singularly not welcomed back with… the one cat looked at me accusingly and the others just said ‘meh’ and went back to sleep… pragmatic things, cats, they care not who serves them as long as the quality of the service remains undiminished…

Of course, I completely neglected to mention I was going anywhere, didn’t I? I am a very person and shall pay someone to spank me later: did I say that out-loud? So, effectively I disappeared off the face of the earth for a while longer… in my defence, the trip did come upon me with something of a hurry. I went ‘Oop North’ for a week. ‘Oop North’ is like the West Country except colder, wetter and lumpier. And by God was it wet. Very wet. And at least it wasn’t that London… which is like nothing on earth and more akin to that which was thought under it: it’s loud, noisome, claustrophobic, dirty, too light at night and just too full of damn people who move too damn fast… often with your cash and cards… or with the blood-smeared knife they’ve just stabbed you with. No offence to all them lovely Londoners out there but how do you cope with it? My money’s on drinking. Anyway, you may just have guessed I’m not a big city sort of person. Except Leeds. Leeds is alright. To visit…

Right, so, my trip was a resounding success for a multitude of reasons. I have come to the conclusion that I have access to that most elusive and desired of things, that which I believe to be called ‘the writer buddy’. Then I journeyed further North, through the ice-fields and snow-storms, battling polar bears and militant penguins, to the city known only as Leeds where I caught up with some old (and hardy) friends. Also did some shopping aided by finding a shop closing down and selling off Tartan DVDs at two pound a time.

The most important part of the trip, however, was the discussion of UCT which, as I have expanded upon previously, has been languishing somewhat due to a lack of a sufficient ending. So, I had a decent conversation about the piece and suddenly things started to fall together mentally and, during a late night showing of Cape Fear, I worked up the day’s thoughts into a fair schematic of the ending. It’s not perfect by a long shot but is an ending; reasonably nifty and gives the rest of the story something to work towards and to which be tailored. On presentation of this to writer-munki it received a seal of approval and means I can now go full steam ahead… of course, he may just have been saying that to get me to never speak of this matter again. My other concerns are now taken up with whether the rest of the piece is too obvious (I can’t tell because I know how the story ends) and by the lack of a ticking clock. Ticking clocks aren’t essential but are recommended and create artificial tension where none otherwise exists.

I did a double bill in the main Leeds fleapit*: this is noteworthy as I tend not to go to cinemas as it means, firstly, expense; secondly, communing with humans, which gives me the heebie-jeebies and, lastly, means lurking in a darkened room for two hours with humans, any one of whom may well be heavily armed…** The films viewed were I Am Legend (2007, Francis Lawrence; SP, Mark Protosevich, Akiva Goldsman) and Enchanted (2007, Kevin Lima; SP, Bill Kelly). The former is a fine film- one of those ‘don’t mention the vampire’ stories that I think must have started with Channel 4’s excellent 1998 series Ultraviolet. Exciting, good jump moments, the always entertaining Will Smith, vampires, suspense: a thoroughly enjoyable film. Also worth mentioning, which has probably been mentioned ad nauseam in serious film magazines is the intriguing politico-religious subtext (not so sub- in some places). Ground Zero is mentioned at least three times, for example, and, while this term existed pre-9/11, the current connotations of the term can only draw the mind to the War Against Terror connexion. The continual battening down of hatches and pulling down of shutters; the withdrawal from the world: all these lead to a clear post-9/11, W.A.T. reading of the film… the nearest and clearest antecedent to I Am Legend seemed to me less The Omega Man and more The Village. If this is how Americans are currently feeling then it is concerning as, while I may not approve of everything the US does globally, I do know that this world more needs a co-operative, interacting and friendly US than not. And anyway all the Americans I’ve ever met have been thoroughly nice, decent and generous people: admittedly all these have passports and leave the country and are not those who stoned the Top Gear team! Personally, I’ve never been a big admirer of The Omega Man (1971, Boris Sagal; SP, John William Corrington, Joyce Hopper Corrington); it seems too ‘easy’ a film; too glib and just too ‘Hestony’. My real surprise came a couple of years back upon finding a copy of The Last Man On Earth (1964, Ubaldo Ragona; SP, William F. Leicester, Richard Matheson, Furio M. Monetti, Ubaldo Ragona) with Vincent Price; Price succeeds in curing the ham, the sparse setting and black and white photography producing a genuinely bleak and eerie feel which is entirely missing in The Omega Man and, to a lesser extent, I Am Legend. I would still adduce by dint of acting, direction, production values (etc.) that I Am Legend is by far the superior version, but assert that The Last Man On Earth should not be overlooked- and it does have the imprimatur of the original author. I am told by the chap I saw the Will Smith version with that the new film’s ending is completely different to the novel and inverts, changes and ultimately loses the essential point of the book. I wouldn’t know…

Enchanted, the second in the double bill, was something of a contrast… and I don’t care what mirth this choice provokes! It was that or The Kite Runner but at 11pm on a Saturday night 3 hours or Afghan misery isn’t high up the list of things you might be wanting to watch. There’s less to say about it apart from that it’s fun, enjoyable, doesn’t take itself too seriously and forced me to exit the cinema smiling… but that may also have been relief that I hadn’t been brutally stabbed in the dark!

So, after seven hundred miles of driving, the shocking discovery that if I empty the petrol tank and have to refill it this now costs over sixty quid… and to any curious Americans who’ve stumbled their way here that would be one hundred and twenty of your shiney dollars whereas the equivalent petrol at US pumps would probably have cost me about five dollars... or something... but I now have a bag of very cheap DVDs of probably very good films and an ending to UCT! So, all in all... a pretty good trip...

On coming home I discovered that now, not only does Gordon Brown want to know everything about you during life, he now wants possession of your body after death… his plan sounds good in theory but consider the implications: the State will own you for spare parts- like buying a second vintage car for parts. And they can now use pretty much anything: when you die you’ll need not so much a large coffin as a small Tesco carrier bag. But how long will it be before the State asserts ownership over you during your lifetime: claiming a lung, a kidney, a chunk of liver or a few pints of claret as and when required? Oh, and now we’re going to be force-fed cloned animals…

…but on the plus side a small herd of rare (and cheap eBay) vampire films had arrived for me when I got back… which was nice.

…and I brought the wet weather back with me… which wasn’t. We’re now facing Flood II: The Sequel. What fun. Don’t tell anyone I’m to blame… I do so hate it when the villagers hove into view with their pitchforks and torches…

*It’s not actually very fleapit-ish… it’s highly swanky and comfortable.
**I saw that documentary called The ABC Murders…