Hounded - 2022 film review

A popular sub-genre of horror films has emerged in recent years - films about people hunting other people for sport. The idea has a lot of potential for writers who want to explore the darker side of human nature. The recent TV version of Lord of the Flies shows not only that it isn't really a new idea (William Golding's brilliant novel was written more than sixty years ago), but also that it's capable of being developed in depth and with subtlety.

This is one of the reasons I was tempted to watch Hounded, a British film from four years ago. The other reason was the presence in the cast of Samantha Bond and James Faulkner, two high-calibre actors who have always seemed to me to be reliably entertaining. I was hopeful, but regrettably this is one that falls into the category of 'films I watched so that you don't have to'. 

The set-up is that a group of youthful burglars from Peckham target a posh mansion for what their leader wants to be their 'last job'. Unfortunately for them, they are caught by the owners, led by Bond (who demonstrates her quality in the sense that at least she seems to be having a lot of fun with the risible dialogue the scriptwriter inflicts on her) and Faulkner (who rather gives the impression that he wishes he was appearing in some other movie where his character was allowed more than one dimension). And because the posh people belong to the fox-hunting set, they decide that the burglars should be their prey.

You can figure out the rest without watching the film. The film was, apparently, retitled Hunted at some point, a change which, in its dismal lack of subtlety, is at least in keeping with the content. The screenplay is feeble: the satirical possibilities of the premise are squandered by the banality of the writing and the action is too often cartoonish. You could write a great film about the class divide in modern Britain. But this is not it.  

Normal - 2025 film review

Normal is a recent film which has been quite a hit, and it stars Bob Odenkirk, who co-wrote the story with Derek Kolstad on which Kolstad based his screenplay. If those names seem familiar to you, then you may recall that they featured in my recent review of Nobody, which also starred Odenkirk and was written by Kolstad. And there is a similarity in style between the two films, though the storyline is very different.

In a gruesome start to the film, a Japanese gang boss exacts a nasty revenge on three of his men who have messed up before announcing that the gang has to deal with a problem in Normal, Minnesota. We then move to that (fictitious but ironically and rather wonderfully named) small town. Of course, life there proves to be anything but normal.

Odenkirk plays Ulysses, an interim sheriff who has been sent to supervise law and order after the untimely and - Ulysses soon discovers - rather suspicious death of his predecessor. Normal seems quiet enough, and Ulysses isn't unduly stretched at first. The local mayor (nicely played, as ever, by the estimable Henry Winkler) suggests he might like to take the job on a permanent basis, but it's pretty clear that what the mayor really likes about Ulysses is his low-key approach to law enforcement. What is going on in the town?

The answer emerges after a young couple stage an inept robbery at the local bank. The central idea of the story is a neat one, although I'm not sure that Derek Kolstad made as much of it as he could. The screenplay is awash with the often cartoonish violence that was a weakness of Nobody, and here I think Kolstad overdoes it. Again, Odenkirk does well in the lead role, but the earlier film was more character-driven than this one, and I think the story was more effective as a result.

Forgotten Book - Panic in Box C

My Pan paperback of John Dickson Carr's Panic in Box C  (see the above cover image) contains the ultimate endorsement - a positive quote from Agatha Christie, who said, 'Very few detective stories baffle me nowadays but Mr Carr's always do.' Of course, the two writer were friends, but it's certainly true that at his best, and even when not quite on top form, Carr was very, very good at bamboozling his readers. Alas, this is a story when I was able to figure out whodunit, even if some aspects of the solution weren't clear to me.

This was the penultimate novel to feature Dr Gideon Fell, although he pops in and out of the action in a rather disjointed way. The novel was published in 1966, and although Carr was barely sixty years old at that time, it does read like an old man's work, lacking the tightness and intensity of his excellent Golden Age mysteries.

The first two chapters, which are quite lengthy, represent a sort of extended prologue. They take place on ship, the RMS lllyria , which is sailing for the States. Fell is on board, and so is a famous actress called Margery Vane. We are given quite extensive chunks of information in slightly indigestible form, and events conclude with Margery Vane talking about a ghost and apparently being shot at.

We then leap forward several months, and Fell again becomes involved with Margery Vane and members of her circle. There's a lot of discussion about a performance of Romeo and Juliet and some of the odd bits of trivia that Carr drops into the narrative are interesting if not always hugely relevant. But some of the characters are irritating (the relationship between Fell's pal Philip Knox and his long-estranged wife Judy in particular - this pair were far less appealing to me than they seemed to be to Carr). And the murder mystery aspect of the novel is disjointed. All in all, I was pretty disappointed with this one. 

70 Up

I'm not a fan of reality television, mainly because it seems to me to present a false version of 'reality', but I have long admired 7 Up, the long series of documentaries which have followed the lives of a group of British children, from the age of seven, sixty-three years ago, to today. The show began as a 'World in Action' documentary, with a political axe to grind - an examination of the nature and future of the 'class system' in Britain - but evolved over the years into something more fascinating and thought-provoking. It's really a study of humanity.

Michael Apted, the film-maker whose achievements included a Bond film and Gorillas in the Mist, was the key figure who kept the show on the road, although it has now been revealed that by the time 63 Up was shown he was in the early stages of dementia, and he died in 2021. 70 Up makes clear that he did make mistakes, and he admitted himself that he was excessively judgmental in his early days. To some extent, clips were chosen selectively to make specific points (much to the annoyance of John, for instance, the public schoolboy who became a KC and felt - with some justice - that he was exploited, and that of the women who were challenged about their willingness to marry young). So even this 'reality' show is not beyond criticism.

Overall, though, Apted did a great job. One or two of the participants dropped out over the years, but most stayed the course. It was very sad to learn that Nick, the young Yorkshire lad who became a scientist in the US, had died of cancer just three days after filming his final clip. He was one of the characters who fascinated me particularly, as did Neil, an equally likeable but more obviously vulnerable person who has struggled with depression for many years. Andrew, the solicitor, seems on the surface to have had an unusually untroubled life, while Tony, the charismatic former jockey, was as engaging as he was outspoken. Everyone had a story to tell that was well worth hearing.

Of course you can question some of the choices made at the start of the series, which helped to define the way it developed, as well as the rather patronising way that Michael Apted interviewed some of the young women in the early shows. But as a window in the lives of real people over the course of a lifetime, this series is unmatched. I can't be the only viewer who felt a great deal of warmth towards everyone who took part over the years. The final sequences were poignant, the whole exercise genuinely impressive.  

Frederick Knott and Dial M for Murder

I'm fascinated by books which give a detailed insight into the way leading crime writers think. Examples that spring to mind are John Curran's study of Agatha Christie's notebooks and Barbara Reynolds' explanation of the collaborative writing process of The Documents in the Case by Dorothy L. Sayers and Robert Eustace, in her bio of Sayers (extracts from which I included in Howdunit). 

And now I've read an interesting study of a niche topic - the way that Frederick Knott went about writing his highly successful stage play Dial M for Murder, famously filmed by Alfred Hitchcock. Richard Weill's Frederick Knott and Dial M for Murder: The Creation and Evolution of an Iconic Thriller, published by McFarland, gives info about Knott's life and other work for stage and screen, as well as including a previously unpublished version of the play.

One of the key points that emerges from the text is the extent to which Knott laboured over his work. He was something of a perfectionist, and this may explain why he was very, very far from prolific (it probably helped that he earned a great deal of money from Dial M, despite selling the film rights for just £1000). There is a lot of detail about how he tinkered with apparently small elements of the story; this, I think, illustrates a level of care about his work that is common to a number of really successful creative people.

Knott met a variety of interesting people during his life - names like Selwyn Jepson, Maurice Evans (a fascinating character who not only starred in the stage play, but also, by the way, among other notable achievements, encouraged Hal David to become a lyricist), Roald Dahl, and Grace Kelly appear in the text: Weill squashes the notion that Knott and Kelly (who starred in the film of Dial M) had an affair, by the way. I was very glad to read this book and, who knows, it may well be a contender for next year's Edgar awards.

Forgotten Book - Illegal Tender

I felt a genuine sense of regret when I finished reading Dominic Devine's 1970 novel Illegal Tender. Not because of any flaws in the storyline, but because it meant I'd read all thirteen of his novels. They are all stand-alones, which usually means that quality can vary quite a bit, but in fact Devine is very, very good at ringing the changes while making the most of his strengths, which are considerable.

His ability to construct a strong whodunit plot is especially impressive. But he also understood office life, and its tensions, and the secrets hidden within seemingly respectable lives. His fiction gives a pretty good insight into the social mores of middle-class Britain at the time. Most of his stories are set in Scotland, and even those that aren't generally have some Scottish characters or scenes. He was very strong on academic life, which he knew intimately, but he also seems to have had a very close knowledge of local government and how it operates on a day to day basis. The background seems to me to be highly authentic.

This story is set in a fictitious local authority, Kilcrannon, and it's one of a number of crime novels written during the same period which deal with local government corruption. Michael Gilbert's The Crack in the Teacup was another, but Devine explores the topic in greater depth, even though his protagonist, Jennifer Ainslie is, like Gilbert's, a trained lawyer. In some ways, their work was prescient, because not long after those novels appeared, the Poulson scandal began to unfold. 

There haven't been many major crime novels in recent times that I can think of which deal with similar themes, which is surprising, because corruption in local government definitely hasn't gone away. The municipal hierarchy in Scotland at the time was evidently quite complex, and Devine might have given us a bit more explanation about how it operated, but he is content to tell the story in a pacy way and trust his readers to work things out for themselves. 

Did I manage to deduce the identity of the culprit? In this case, no, I was miles out. Devine was a very crafty crime writer indeed.

  

Books

 

This week saw the publication by the British Library of The Classic Crime Companion, my updated and expanded version of the award-winning The Story of Classic Crime in 100 Books. Here is a link if you're interested in buying from Amazon.

And next week sees publication by Head of Zeus of the paperback edition of Miss Winter in the Library with a Knife. Of all the books I've written, this has - already - been the most commercially successful, and the most widely translated. If you're interested in preordering from Amazon, you can do so here.

Torquay Books

I came home from Torquay with an interesting haul of books, and pride of place goes to Lucy Foley's latest. I'm pleased to say that Lucy has written an essay for Agatha Christie: A World of Mystery, edited by another Lucy (Ms Rowland) and myself for the British Library exhibition about the Queen of Crime. That book is due out on the day the exhibition opens officially, 30 October, but Lucy's novel is already available.

I've been interested in Lucy's writing ever since she turned to the crime genre with her fourth novel, The Hunting Party, eight years ago. That book established her distinctive style, which makes skilful use of multiple first person viewpoints, and was one of the novels that has helped to revive the 'whowasdunin' type of mystery, which I'd argue dates back to Anthony Berkeley's Murder in the Basement, in recent times. She has achieved huge success and, during the pandemic, I enjoyed moderating an online panel to which she made an excellent contribution.

Now she's been appointed by the Agatha Christie estate to write continuation novels featuring Miss Marple, and the first is Murder at the Grand Alpine Hotel. She hasn't tried to ape Agatha's style, and again it's a 'whowasdunin' with multiple viewpoints (not Miss Marple's, though - some mysteries have to be preserved!). What I liked about this story was the cunning way she used one of Agatha's favourite pieces of trickery (no, I'm not going to say what it is, but it features in at least two novels and one short story, arguably more) but gave it a very distinctive twist of her own. So distinctive that I have to admit I didn't see it coming. I'm now kicking myself, of course...

A word too for a pleasing new 'stocking filler' book, Agatha Christie: The ABC of Murders, written and illustrated by Tom Racine. Well worth considering as a Christmas present for the Christie fan in your life.

     

The Jurassic Coast and Cornwall

It's a long way from Cheshire to Torquay, and so I planned to turn my participation in the International Agatha Christie Festival into a larger trip that involved exploring a number of places in the south west of England that were unfamiliar to me, but which had potential for research. Sometimes I plan my research meticulously in advance, with a view to getting a better sense of places (in Britain or overseas) that I intend to use in a specific story, while on other occasions I treat trips like voyages of discovery, without any specific story idea in mind - but hoping that one or two will come to me, as in practice they often do. I find that visiting fresh ground like this can be inspirational - for instance, I've just finished work on the first draft of a short story with a setting inspired by my trip in July to the Llyn Peninsula in Wales. 

The Jurassic Coast has interested me for a long time, and I was impressed by the use made of it some years ago in Broadchurch, but it's an area I don't know very well - apart from a long ago visit to Dorset. This time, I explored a number of interesting coastal spots - Seaton, Sidmouth (where, opportunistically, I took the chance to sign half a dozen copies of my newly published anthology, Eat, Drink and Be Murdered) and Budleigh Salterton, none of which I'd ever visited before. Good weather helped for a memorable trip. And a quick trip to Ladram Bay, notable not only for a massive caravan park but also for some intriguing sea stacks, was definitely worth making.

After Torquay, it was a case of driving over to Cornwall (with a stop-off en route in South Zeal in Devon to call on my crime writing pal Mike Jecks, pictured above) and an overnight stay at Bedruthan Steps, a fascinating and picturesque location. The next day saw my first ever visits to Padstow and Bude, two contrasting seaside resorts. This time there was a bit of drizzle, but I was still able to get a flavour of the locations before heading over to Barnstaple, which I last visited more than thirty years ago - long before that area became the setting for Ann Cleeves' Two Rivers series.

What fictional use will I make of these explorations? It's too early to say, as it often is. For instance, some years ago I visited Bletchley Park and found it fascinating, but it was quite a while afterwards when another trip (this time to Gorey on Jersey, during a festival) that my thinking gelled and the short story 'The Sound of Secrecy' emerged from the ether. But I enjoyed the trip very much, and picked up plenty of food for thought...  

Forgotten Book - Such Friends Are Dangerous

Such Friends Are Dangerous, written by Walter Tyrer and originally published in 1954 by the relatively obscure firm of Staples, is a novel to which my attention was drawn by Nigel Moss, who is extremely widely read in the genre, especially in terms of Golden Age detective stories; he's also a shrewd judge of a story. I discovered that the novel had also been highly praised by another good judge, John Norris, and even by the critics Barzun and Taylor (who weren't afraid to heap criticism, and were often sceptical about books I'd regard as very good). So I was curious to read it.

Did it live up to expectations? Yes, I'd say it did. I have a few quibbles, for instance about the title and some oddities of structuring, but overall this is an extremely enjoyable story, written in a light and pleasing style which shifts the spotlight of suspicion around the cast of characters in an effective way.

We begin by seeing Mrs Luton, who is devoted to an unworthy husband who treats her badly. Even worse, it turns out that although he's keeping her short of money, he is showering gifts on a younger married woman, Kitty Pinnock. It soon becomes clear that Kitty has made plenty of enemies in the local community and it comes as no surprise when she is murdered.

Much of the action centres around the local golf club and the detection is undertaken by the amiable DI Frodsham of Scotland Yard, who is aided and abetted by a mischievous local journalist called Charlie Weaver, who specialises in cadging drinks from his forbearing fellow villagers. I don't want to say anything that gives away the final twist. Suffice to say that I had a clear inkling of the truth early on, but there was one critical issue that eluded me completely, and which lifts this book from the ranks of the competent into something rather more interesting. 

Does Tyrer play completely fair? This is debatable, but I enjoyed the story so much that I'm happy to give him the benefit of the doubt. It's a pity that, so far as I know, he published nothing of similar quality. He is mainly associated with Sexton Blake stories and young adult fiction. This one is good enough to make one interested to read more of his work, just in case there are some hidden gems there.