Goldeneye - 1989 film review

Goldeneye is the title of a James Bond film, but before that it was the title of a 1989 biopic, the story of Bond's creator, Ian Fleming. And the first thing to be said is that it has some wonderful ingredients. Fleming's life, the subject of several published biographies, was very interesting. The cast, led by Charles Dance, who is ideally suited to the role of Fleming, is excellent. And the screenwriter, Reg Gadney, who has a cameo role in the film as James Bond, was undoubtedly a good writer.

Gadney is someone I never met, but he was a writer of varied accomplishments, whose career I've followed with some interest for many years. He wrote well-regarded spy novels, was a reputable academic, and also developed an expertise in art and art history. On top of that, he was a capable if occasional screenwriter. I remember The Sculptress, which he adapted from Minette Walters' novel, with particular admiration and indeed I fancy watching it again before long.

The trouble is, this is a slow-moving film, episodic and unsatisfactory. Fleming was, whatever his shortcomings, a gifted storyteller whose novels always moved at pace. So it's weirdly contradictory that a story about his life should plod along as Goldeneye does. Nor do I think that the characterisation of Fleming in the script is particularly compelling. There's too much about his complex love life, but we don't really get under the skin of the man or his motivations.

A shame, because this film brought together a number of talented people. The cast includes the excellent Phyllis Logan and also such interesting actors as Marsha Fitzalan and Richard Griffiths; Adrian Edmondson also features in a tiny part. I really wanted to enjoy this film, but I feel the definitive Fleming movie has yet to be made. Maybe one day... 

Forgotten Book - The Silent Murders

Over the course of just five years, between 1928 and 1933, A.G. Macdonell, the Scottish writer best-known as author of England, Their England, applied his wit and facility for writing entertaining prose to the detective genre. He co-wrote one novel, The Bleston Mystery, with Milward Kennedy, under the name Robert Milward Kennedy, produced six novels as Neil Gordon, and two as John Cameron. And then he moved on to other things. His early death in 1941, at the age of 46, means we'll never know if he would have returned to crime writing. Perhaps not. But his books deserve not to be forgotten.

The Silent Murders, which dates from 1929, is an example. In fact, I'd rank it as outstanding for its time, if it were not for the fact that the clever idea at the heart of the story had been used by another novelist a couple of years earlier. Whether Macdonell simply nicked it, or whether the idea was simply in the zeitgeist, I don't know. Either is possible. But he makes good use of it, and writes his book in such a different and agreeable way that it's definitely worth reading even if you have - as I did - a pretty good idea of where the story is ultimately heading.

The book begins with the murder of a tramp. Tramps were a regular feature of Golden Age detective fiction, and this reflects social issues that aren't so often discussed. For some people down on their luck, it really wasn't a golden age at all. But when someone else is killed and it emerges that there is an inexplicable connection between the two crimes, the story begins to take shape.

The main detective in the story, Inspector Dewar, is an appealing character, and Macdonell hit on a good way of complicating the mystery. The tension builds nicely, although one question (where was the culprit hiding out all the time?) didn't seem to me to be clearly answered, as the book ends rather abruptly, almost as if the author had run out of steam. So, not a masterpiece, and not totally original, but I really enjoyed it. It's a pretty rare book (the illustration comes from the excellent Hadwebutknown website, but that first edition will set you back £225), but deserves rediscovery. 

Guest post - Michael Ridpath and Operation Berlin

I've been a fan of Michael Ridpath's work since before I first met him, which in itself is quite a long time ago. He's a versatile and interesting writer and I'm very glad to feature a guest post from him:

'There comes a point in the middle of my research when it’s time to read The Times. 
I suppose it would be possible to do this online somehow, but that’s not the way I like to do it.  In the basement of the London Library in St James’s Square is The Times Room.  Large red leather-bound copies of The Times, each heavy, each three feet tall, line the shelves in cabinets, one for each month.  There are special lecterns upon which you can open them and browse; the Foreign and Colonial news is usually on about page 8.  I love it down there.

My latest novel, Operation Berlin, takes place in August and September of 1930, and so I read through copies of The Times for each day, taking notes of what the Berlin correspondent had to say.  At that time, he was an old hand named Norman Ebbutt, but he is never identified in the paper itself.  There is usually at least one article – or maybe two – on the goings-on in Germany each day.  But I allow myself to be distracted: by the advertisements on page 1 for domestic servants and enigmatic personal messages in a rudimentary code; by the page-long descriptions of the Belvoir Hunt’s outing a couple of days before; by the minutiae of cricket scores by batsmen with at least three initials and two hyphenated last names.  And the advertisements, of course, for Bovril, Beecham’s Laxatives, Imperial Airways and the Austin Seven.

But back to ‘our Berlin correspondent’.  My eye was caught by a short article on 29 August 1930 about a Frau Amlinger who had thrown herself out of a Lufthansa mail plane flying from Frankfurt to Erfurt.  She was the wife of a Reichswehr cavalry officer, Captain Sepp Amlinger, who served in the air force during the war and who had died in an aeroplane accident in Russia.

Interesting.  Very interesting.

Further investigation on my part paralleled that of The Times’s correspondent.  It turned out that Captain Amlinger was part of a secret contingent of the Reichswehr being trained as fighter pilots at a training facility in the Soviet Union.  Cover-ups ensued, and a nice little subplot was born.  Now, all I need to do is book myself onto an Imperial Airways flying boat to Alexandria for £55.  Not tempted by the Beecham’s Laxatives, though.'

Michael Ridpath’s Operation Berlin is published by Boldwood Books on 12 April

 

Sharp Corner - 2024 film review

Stories which focus on characters who experience gradual psychological disintegration are often harrowing, but if told well, they can be engrossing. Some of Julian Symons's best novels, such as The Narrowing Circle and The Man Who Killed Himself, are good examples. Sharp Corner, a newish film based on a short story by the Canadian writer Russell Wangersky, is another.

This is a slow-burning film, but it's never boring. Josh (Ben Foster) and Rachel (Cobie Smulders - quite a memorable name!) are a happily married couple with a young son, Max, whom they adore. They move out of the city to a new house and everything seems fine. But as Josh and Rachel celebrate their good fortune by making love in the front room, a tyre crashes through the window. There has been a fatal car accident on the sharp bend in the road just outside the house.

One small point I have to make is that the corner that causes all the trouble doesn't actually seem that sharp to me. There's a much more terrifying right-hand bend in a road close to where I live. No matter. This tragedy unsettles the family, and worse is to follow, as it becomes clear the sharp corner is an accident blackspot, and more crashes follow. Josh becomes obsessed with the crashes, and his work and personal life suffer. So, before long, does his marriage.

Josh is in many ways a frustrating character, and although one sympathises with him at first, it becomes increasingly difficult to do so. He is not a 'bad' man - far from it - yet eventually he will do something terrible. The end of the film came a bit unexpectedly and I'm still not quite sure what I make of it. Overall, though, this is a thought-provoking film and I was impressed.

   

Forgotten Book - Sweet Danger

My copy of Margery Allingham's Sweet Danger (1933) is a precious one, despite lacking a dust jacket, because it's inscribed by the author (and her husband Pip) to a friend. It also benefits from endpapers which have a rather splendid map labelled 'The village of Pontisbright where it all happened'. It's taken me a while to get round to reading it but I was amused to find that the prime villain rejoices in the name Savanake (so spelled differently from Rachel, whose name was inspired by Henrietta Savernake in Agatha Christie's The Hollow). 

The description often applied to Sweet Danger is 'romp' and that tells you most of what you need to know about the novel. A disputed territory in central Europe plays a significant part in the plot, so in some ways this is one of those Golden Age novels which have a Ruritanian element - rather like Christie's The Secret of Chimneys, for instance. 

Thankfully, the vast majority of the action takes place in Pontisbright, which is in Suffolk, and the story is particularly significant in the Allingham canon for introducing Albert Campion to Amanda Fitton, who at the tender age of seventeen makes a big impression on him and was to play a key role in several of Allingham's later books. Was this the influence of Sayers' success in introducing Wimsey to Harriet Vane? I tend to think so.

The storyline concerns inheritance and a coded message and it didn't make much of an impression on me. The chapter which made the greatest impact was the one in which Campion ventures to London and encounters Savanake at his HQ: this is very well done, and so is the climactic battle between the men in the mill at Pontisbright. But if anything this book reinforces me in the perhaps controversial view that much of Allingham's finest work was in the short story form, which compelled a discipline not always evident in her novels. 

Speak No Evil (2024) film review

Speak No Evil is a 2024  American remake - written and directed by the accomplished James Watkins - of a Danish film of two years earlier which I haven't seen. Both have enjoyed critical and commercial success. In essence, this is a psychological suspense story which edges into horror territory. But most of the creepier stuff, I'm glad to say, is handled subtly and by suggestion rather than directly graphic content.

The film benefits immeasurably from the presence in the cast of that fine actor James McEvoy. He has the key part of Paddy, a character with hidden (and, it must be said, foreseeably unpleasant) depths, but his ability to move seamlessly and yet with conviction from charmer to villain is impressive. A lesser actor might have struggled to make such an impact.

An American couple living in London, Louise and Ben Dalton (Mackenzie Davis and the splendidly named Scoot McNairy) make holiday friends with Paddy and Ciara (McEvoy and Aisling Franciosi, also very good). The Daltons have a daughter, Agnes, who is very anxious, while their new pals have a young boy, Ant, who has a condition which means that he cannot speak. Dan Hough, who plays Ant, is terrific in a tricky role. He has a bright future ahead of him as an actor.

The outgoing and slightly flaky Brits invite the American couple to join them in their remote farmstead in the west country. Obviously, the Americans should run for their lives at this point, but equally obviously they don't. What follows might have been predictable, but a good script and even better acting ensures that the tension ratchets up steadily and is maintained throughout. I wish I could have warmed to Louise and Ben more than I did, but irritating though they are, they don't deserve what Paddy has in store for them.

Announcement - What the World Needs Now - a new mystery anthology

 

I'm delighted to share, at long last, news of an anthology of mine that will be published in the summer. It's called What the World Needs Now: Mysteries Inspired by the Music of Burt Bacharach and it will be published by Level Best Books. It's a very special book for me for a number of reasons, and one of them is that proceeds will go to autism charities in the UK and US. I've been advised by people with expert knowledge of the subject about suitable charities, and all contributors have been hugely generous in donating their stories for this very worthwhile cause.

And what a marvellous list of contributors, what a wonderful and diverse range of stories. We have big international bestsellers like Ragnar Jonasson, Charles Todd, Abir Mukherjee, and Sarah Hilary, alongside people better known in other fields like Simon Guerrier and Rhian Waller. Plus many others, all of them writing at top form. I'll have more to say about the contributions another day.

The foreword was kindly written by Rupert Holmes, the multi-talented crime novelist, playwright, and composer, who just so happens to come from the same Cheshire town as me. In fact, Northwich now holds a very popular annual Pina Colada Festival in Rupert's honour - named, of course, after his famous hit, 'The Pina Colada Song'. 

This is a book that has been a long time in the making. It brings together my twin passions, for Burt Bacharach's music, and for crime fiction, in a way that I'm very, very happy with. And the book is dedicated to a friend of mine from my schooldays, Elizabeth, who sadly died while this book was in the course of preparation. I told her when I visited her in the hospice that I would be dedicating the book to her, and I also promised that I'd give a mention in my own story to her old favourite pop performer from those long ago days when we spent much time together. Who was that? Well, you ought to read the book to find out!

Forgotten Book - The Second Time is Easy

Martin Russell's speciality as a crime novelist was to write about ordinary people in extraordinary situations, confronting intolerable pressures as they became ensnared in webs of deception that were sometimes of their own making. The Second Time is Easy, which dates from 1987, is a good example of his distinctive brand of domestic suspense. 

Like almost all of his books, this one appeared under the famous imprint of the Collins Crime Club. I must say, though, that the blurb writer did him no favours at all. The jacket cover gives nearly the whole story away, not the only time in Russell's career that this happened. I've got no idea why this was done. As was the fashion at the time, there was no biographical information at all about the author, and I feel this would have been rather more interesting than a potted summary of the whole book.

The story is set in Sussex - Russell seldom ventured far from the south of England in his books; here he makes clever use of hang-gliding on the Downs  - and the protagonists are a supermarket manager, Simon Pettifer, and his wife Jo. They have a daughter, Carol, to whom they are both devoted. But Simon is having an affair with a work colleague and Jo takes a shine to a builder who has been hired to build an extension to the house to accommodate Jo's mother.

That's as much as I want to say about the storyline, but it's fair to add that this isn't one of Russell's twistiest stories - there is one puzzling question, but the main focus is on what will happen to the Pettifers. I found this one readable and entertaining, even though I wasn't totally convinced by two aspects of the behaviour of the female characters in the book.  

The Gentleman - 2025 film review

Ron Perlman is a charismatic actor and his presence in the cast is enough to make The Gentleman worth a look. This recent film is set in Basque country and the script is adapted from a novel by Carlo Augustus Casas and directed by Luis Gabriel Beristain. It's a violent film, but is short enough not to outstay its welcome.

The set up is that Perlman's character, the eponymous 'Gentleman', is a retired American soldier now living in Spain. He has no family, and his closest male friend is terminally ill with cancer, but his loneliness is relieved by regular get-togethers with a young woman called Olga. He enjoys her company and pays for her time, and although she's a sex worker with an unpleasant pimp (is there any other sort) she seems to have a genuine enough liking for him.

However, Olga gets involved with a small group of lawyers (always a mistake, a cynic might say) and is murdered for pleasure. The Gentleman - we soon realise it's a term used with some irony in this film - is appalled and decides to embark on a quest for vengeance. It seems that his previous military career didn't equip him for this, and he's soon found out when spying on one of the lawyers and beaten up. But he becomes savvier and more effective in his approach, while making little effort to cover his tracks.

Meanwhile, Olga's murder is investigated by a woman detective whose marriage has fallen apart, and her sardonic sidekick, and this strand of the story culminates in a nice plot twist. The Gentleman's campaign for violence continues in the meantime, with ever more bloody results. This film isn't by any means a masterpiece, but thanks to a very strong and understated performance by Perlman, I found it surprisingly watchable despite an indifferent script which isn't without plot holes.  

Fanny Lye Deliver'd - 2019 film review

I chanced upon Fanny Lye Deliver'd on Amazon Prime, and although I'd never heard of the film, the cast was strong enough for me to give it a go. Charles Dance, Maxine Peake, Freddie Fox, what could possibly go wrong? Well, for quite a while I did wonder if I'd made a big mistake. The opening is glacially slow-paced, with a voiceover that I found less than enthralling.

Luckily, things then began to become more interesting (if quite dark). The film is set in 1657 on a remote Shropshire farm (although I didn't detect anything that was particularly relevant to Shropshire; it might have been anywhere that was deep in the countryside). This was the time when Britain was in the grip of the Puritans, before the return of Charles II and if you wanted an advertisement for the benefits of a monarchy rather than a republic, this film might be it.

Charles Dance is John Lye, a deeply religious, tough farmer, who rules his wife Fanny and young son Arthur with a rod of iron. Their lives are disrupted by the sudden arrival of two naked people, Thomas (Fox) and Rebecca (Tanya Reynolds) who claim to have been robbed. John shows them some kindness - he isn't by any means an altogether rotten person. But soon it turns out that Thomas and Rebecca are not quite what they seem...

After watching the film, I researched it, and was fascinated to find that writer and director Thomas Clay was inspired to write it after reading the work of the Marxist revolutionary historian Christopher Hill. Chris Hill was Master of Balliol when I was there and although I didn't know him well, I found him rather diffident and very pleasant, as indeed, oddly enough, have been all the (very few) revolutionaries I've known. I still have a nice postcard he sent me from France after my Finals.

The film is a mash-up of various ingredients, and it's not entirely successful. But after that slow start, it does pick up speed, and although I have some reservations about several aspects of it, it's worth a look so that you can make up your own mind.