The Leading Man - 1997 film review

The Leading Man is a fairly obscure film from the late 90s that benefits from a very good cast and an unusual screenplay by Victoria Duigan, sister of the director John Duigan. It's set in the world of the theatre, with a charismatic and egotistical American actor called Robin Grange (played by Jon Bon Jovi, who is pretty good in the part) cast as leading man. The play is written by Felix Webb (Lambert Wilson) who is having an affair with young Hilary Rule (Thandiwe Newton), whom he manages to get cast in a key part.

Felix's wife Elena (Anna Galiena) is aware of the relationship - which certainly isn't as well-kept a secret as Felix believes - and at first it seems like her menacing response (she cuts Felix's hair while he is sleeping) is going to be the focus of the plot. But things take a different turn when Robin offers to do Felix a favour by seducing Elena. One oddity of the storyline is the way that Elena's personality seems to chance once Robin takes an interest in her. I'm not sure this is psychologically convincing, but who knows?

Some of the pleasure of the film comes from the performances of the actors in the play. They include such stalwarts as David Warner, Harriet Walter, Patricia Hodge, and Diana Quick. There's even a blink-and-you-miss-it cameo from Nicole Kidman. I was intrigued by the set-up of the story and couldn't guess how the tangle of relationships would work out - though it was pretty clear that a gun, featured as prominently as Chekhov's, would be relevant to what happened.

Unfortunately, the climax of the film is its weakest part. Possibly Victoria Duigan herself couldn't quite decide how to end the story. The finale that she chose has a low-key irony, but I felt it was a little disappointing. Overall, however, there are enough good moments and enough good actors in this film to make it worth watching.     

Never Say Never Again - 1983 film review

Over the years I've avoided Never Say Never Again, mainly because some people have said it's the worst James Bond movie. However, one evening when I felt in need of some fairly mindless entertainment, I decided to watch it. At the risk of damning with faint praise, I certainly don't think it is the worst Bond film. It's not bad. The real problem is that it doesn't make the best use of some excellent ingredients.

The story of how the film came into being is more interesting than the actual storyline (the same is true of the spoof version of Casino Royale in 1967). It was an outgrowth of the long-running litigation involving a hard-nosed guy called Kevin McClory and Ian Fleming and Eon Productions. McClory was a minor figure in the film world when he met Fleming. A writer called Jack Whittingham wrote a James Bond film script with some input from McClory but it got nowhere. Fleming used this material for his novel Thunderball, a foolish plagiarism that McClory exploited to lucrative effect for the rest of his life. There's a less than flattering obituary here. 

Following his court success, McClory was entitled to reuse material from the novel of Thunderball (but not the film version) and became executive producer of Never Say Never Again, which competed with the 'official' Bond movie of the time, Octopussy. There was enough money sloshing around to lure Sean Connery back to resume his most famous role and to hire Lorenzo Semple Jr (whose CV included The Parallax View and Three Days of the Condor, two excellent films) to write the script. But the director, Irvin Kershner, wasn't happy, and he hired the British comedy writers Dick Clement and Ian La Frenais to work on the script (they weren't credited, possibly a good choice on their part). John Barry declined to write the music, so Michel Legrand - another film composer of the highest class - was brought in, and the theme song was performed by Lani Hall.

The result was an uneasy compromise. There are some good ideas in the storyline, as Semple sought to make a virtue out of necessity - i.e., the fact that Connery was an older man - but some of the attempts at humour introduced in the rewrite were thin. A young Rowan Atkinson has a disappointingly feeble cameo role, and Edward Fox, another actor I like, struggles with the role of M, who is written as a buffoon. Clement and La Frenais have done some fine work over the years, but their contribution to this film seems more reminiscent of their 1985 movie Water, which...well, didn't deserve to make a splash.

There are some good action scenes, although some of the underwater action at the end is...well, underwhelming. I am a lifelong Michel Legrand fan, but his style was not suited to a Bond movie, and the song (which isn't bad, though not one of his best) is misplaced over an action scene at the start of the movie. However there are compensations. Kim Basinger and Prunella Gee are very glamorous 'Bond girls' and Klaus Maria Brandauer is okay, if not quite menacing enough, as the villainous Largo. Above all, Connery eases his way affably through the movie, making the best of it and reminding everyone that, when it comes to James Bond, arguably nobody does it better. 

Forgotten Book - Advisory Service

A hugely pleasurable dividend of posting on this blog is the fascinating correspondence I receive from readers. Recently I've been delighted to correspond with - and chat on the phone with - Betty Telford, who first got in touch with me some years ago, when commenting on a blog post about Martin Russell. Betty knew Martin, a fellow journalist, well, and I've learned more about him from her than from anyone. I am very grateful to all of you who comment and get in touch and I hope you will feel encouraged to continue to do so. Speaking to Betty has further increased my interest in Martin Russell's writing and I've just read one of his early novels of psychological suspense, Advisory Service, which dates from 1971.

Like a number of Russell's books, this one gains immediacy in part because the story is told in the first person and in part because he was good at writing snappy dialogue which moved the story along at a good pace. A middle-class couple, Eddie and Pearl Mills, who live in Hampstead with their nine year old daughter Lorna seem to have a very pleasant life. But beneath the surface, all is not well.

They receive some concerning anonymous telephone calls (the details of the landline calls are one of the things that differentiates this storyline from anything that could be written today, in the age of the smartphone). Then the pressure on them escalates as they receive anonymous letters from a so-called 'Advisory Service'. And then the unthinkable happens...

This is, as usual with Russell, a tense story and an easy, pacy read. I must say, however, that there were various elements of the story that tested my ability to suspend disbelief. To say more than that would be a spoiler, but (despite an unusual, cliff-hanger ending) I wasn't really convinced. Yet even though it's not one of his stronger books, in my opinion, I was still keen to keep turning the pages, and that was Martin Russell's great strength and the reason why he enjoyed quite a successful career for the best part of thirty years. 

An E.C.R. Lorac Exhibition

How times change. Not so long ago, the name of E.C.R. Lorac was little-known to crime readers. Almost all her seventy-odd novels had been out of print since the late 1950s, some of them long before that. And now she is the current best-selling writer among all those published in the British Library Crime Classics series. Quite a transformation. I'm sure my parents, who extolled the virtues of Lorac (especially Still Waters) to me when I was young - and at a time when her books were impossible to find - would be amazed and delighted.  

I was thrilled to be invited yesterday to, of all things, an E.C.R. Lorac exhibition at Halton Library in Lancashire. Halton isn't far from where Lorac (in real life, Carol Rivett) lived in Aughton (pronounced Afton) for the last decade and a half of her life. And Halton is now the home village of Lena Whiteley, who lived next door to the author when she was young. Her mother was Lorac's housekeeper and Lena helped in the house and garden from being very young.

The exhibition, which has previously been on display at Bolton-le-Sands library, is splendid and includes several items that are in Lena's possession. She and her son David gave a talk about the author to an appreciative audience and mentioned that the fact that Lorac's Lunesdale books, which are among her very best, give such an evocative picture of the local area means that it's great fun to try to figure out the thinly disguised locations in the stories. A couple of years ago, Lena and David took me on a tour of the setting of Crook O'Lune, which was as interesting as it was helpful when I came to write the book.

When I was in my twenties, I started picking up Lorac novels whenever I could find them in second hand shops and giving them to my parents, who devoured them. Now all those books are in my possession, but there are still quite a few of her novels (including many of the books she wrote as Carol Carnac) that I haven't read. Treats in store.

I mentioned Lorac briefly in my first Northern Blood anthology, more than thirty years ago, but it was only when I became involved with the Crime Classics that I was able to encourage the British Library to republish Lorac. It took years to trace the estate and copyright holders, but the work and the wait were worthwhile. Lorac (and Carnac) are being enjoyed all over again, by a new readership, and she's getting fantastic sales and reviews. In writing my intros, I've benefited enormously from my friendship with Lena, David and his sister Helen; the help they've given me has been invaluable. 

And the good news is, there's another Lorac reissue on the way. Murder in Vienna is due out in November. 

Musings on Noir Heroes; guest post from Luke Deckard

Luke Deckard is a thoughtful member of the new generation of crime writers, a generation which I'm keen to encourage whenever I can. So I was glad to include a short story of his in the forthcoming CWA anthology Midsummer Mysteries. His new novel Bad Blood, a Logan Bishop thriller, has just been published, and to celebrate this, I invited him to contribute a guest blog post. Here it is:

'In Plato’s The Republic, he writes, “When we find out what justice is, we shall require the just man to answer the description precisely… or shall we be content if he approximates to it very closely…?”

My passion for writing and reading noir fiction is no secret. The emergence of the hard-boiled hero in 1920s America and its subsequent evolution in the 30s/40s was a direct response to British crime fiction and a world steeped in disillusionment after the First World War. As Raymond Chandler said in The Simple Art of Murder, the genre wanted to explore realistic crime and a world where “gangsters can rule nations and almost rule cities.”

But what is justice when the very system that should uphold it is corrupt? This is a question that many hard-boiled heroes have grappled with, often choosing to leave the system they once served due to its inherent corruption.

Chandler added that, “Down these mean streets a man must go who is not himself mean, who is neither tarnished nor afraid.” Across the genre, its heroes, from Marlowe to Spenser, Millhone to Rebus and Bosch et al., operate more as dark knights. A white knight can’t exist in the world of Noir. However, I say these heroes are the answer to Plato’s musing; They might not be able to “answer the description precisely”, but they “approximate to it very closely.”

This is one of the many aspects I love about noir fiction and why I love writing it. When I approached my novel Bad Blood, I kept asking myself: What does it mean to be good in a bent world? How can one be hopeful in a wasteland? And I let my protagonist try to find his way to those answers.

Crime fiction, generally, grapples with an unjust world, but noir fiction knows there is no cure. Crime isn’t a virus that can be eradicated, and surviving in that reality is no easy business! As Philip Marlowe says toward the end of The Big Sleep, “Me, I was part of the nastiness now.”

 

Forgotten Book - The Double Turn

Whether writing as E.C.R. Lorac or Carol Carnac (or as Mary Le Bourne in the case of her posthumously published Two-Way Murder), Carol Rivett kept up an impressive standard of crime writing to the end of her life. Someone who writes so prolifically for so long is bound to have the occasional misfire, but several of her very best books were written during the 1950s, and although some are (at least now) fairly well-known, others remain obscure.

What is more, her powers of invention do not seem to me to have diminished over the years. A little-known example of her qualities as a writer is The Double Turn, a novel published under the name Carol Carnac in 1956, just two years before her death and known in the US as The Late Miss Trimming. This is another case for the likeable Chief Inspector Rivers and I found it very enjoyable.

The starting point for the story is - as in several of her books - the world of art. The opening chapter is set at an exhibition sponsored by the Central Arts Committee 'in aid of aged and indigent painters' and it introduces us to several key characters, including the lovely artist Susan Truby, her uncle Jocelyn, and two young men who admire Susan; we also get to hear about Adrian Delafield, a veteran artist whom Jocelyn knew but whose work has now gone out of fashion. Adrian is now looked after by a formidable but highly eccentric old woman called Trimming, while his daughter Virgilia lives in a studio adjoining her home.

Before long, we're confronted with an unexpected death, and it seems to be an accident. Rather surprisingly, I thought, given the slender evidence to the contrary, the police deem the death to be suspicious and Rivers is called in. There's an 'impossible crime' element to this story, but Lorac was no John Dickson Carr; her focus is on character and the book is none the worse for that. A strange misprint (I think it must be a misprint) in my copy seemed to give a strong hint to the solution to the puzzle, something I've not encountered previously. But overall this is a example of Lorac/Carnac in very good form.

   

Gwen Moffat - 100 Years Young

I was tipped off recently by my crime fiction loving friends Nigel Moss and Barry Pike that fellow northern crime writer Gwen Moffat was celebrating a very special birthday. Believe it or not, Gwen was 100 on July 3. I was away on holiday at the time but managed to send her a slightly belated congratulatory message - and received a very prompt and positive reply from the lady herself.

Gwen's greatest claim to fame is no doubt her pioneering work as a woman mountaineer and in 1961 she published a very well-received autobiography, The Space Beneath My Feet. She was also the first British female mountain guide. A few years ago, a film documentary which is well worth a watch supplied a fascinating picture of how Gwen's indomitable style had influenced and inspired younger women climbers.

In the 1970s she turned to writing crime fiction, and created a series character called Miss Pink who was - naturally! - a keen climber. I got to know her in the 1990s, when she came along to CWA northern chapter get-togethers. From the outset, she struck me as a formidable character - as you need to be, to do the things that Gwen has done in her life.

We met on many occasions over the years, but I haven't seen her in person for quite a while, so I was particularly pleased to hear from her again. Congratulations, Gwen, and many happy returns!

CADS 92 - and the TLS

I've been taking my time over CADS 92, the final instalment of a wonderful magazine that Geoff Bradley has been running since July 1985. That's an incredible 39 years of dedication and the result has been something unique, an informal magazine that has gained immensely from its combination of homespun charm yet authoritative comment from a very wide of contributors.

Geoff mentions that I first contributed to CADS 8 and he and I first met at the London Bouchercon, way back in 1990. I've written plenty of articles for the magazine since then, and for the final issue I've included a previously unpublished eulogy that Julian Symons wrote for his friend Michael Underwood, a piece that says, in my opinion, a lot of both men. They were very different people, with very different attitudes, but good friends as well as good writers.

There are, as ever, lots of unexpected delights in this issue, including an excellent article by Arthur Robinson about Anthony Berkeley's book reviews, about which he's given me much information over the years, and another by Clint Stacey on the mysteries of Stewart Farrer. Melvyn Barnes supplements our knowledge about Francis Durbridge's collaborative novels and there are many other good things - too many too mention individually - by a host of good writers, from John Curran and Philip Scowcroft to Liz Gilbey and Mike Wilson.  

If you're a fan of detective fiction, with a leaning toward the classics, and you don't know CADS, you should try to track down copies before they all vanish from sight. You will be impressed, as I have been. It's been a huge pleasure, each and every time, to receive a copy of CADS and I'm hugely appreciative of all the hard work Geoff has put into it. 

What's more, in this final issue, he's even taken the trouble to include a nice review of The Life of Crime. And I'm afraid I can't resist blowing my own trumpet by saying that the book has just had a rave review, in-depth, in the Times Literary Supplement. The book is also featured in a TLS podcast. To receive such a stunning review is definitely a highlight for me and I'm absolutely thrilled.

Forgotten Book - Leave and Bequeath

Leave and Bequeath was published in 1943. It was the sixth book published by Winifred E. Watson, but her first attempt at a detective story; some of her other books (which I haven't read) are described as 'rustic bodice-rippers'. After that, although she lived to the ripe old age of 95, dying in 2002, she never published another novel. You might wonder whether the book had some kind of traumatic effect on her literary career, but that wasn't the case. It seems that, quite simply she settled for contented domestic life rather than authorship.

Another curious thing about Winifred. In 1938, she published a novel called Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day. This was a success, published internationally, and a musical version was planned. That didn't happen, but the book was rediscovered by the admirable Persephone Books (on whose website the above photo can be found), much to the elderly author's delight, and turned into a film, albeit after her death, in 2008. The stars were Frances McDormand and Amy Adams and the critics loved it. Truly, the fate of books is unpredictable... 

So what do we make of Leave and Bequeath? Well, in many ways it's an archetypal country house mystery. A group of young relatives assemble at the home of aged and cantankerous Aunt Julie, who is one of those rich old people who delights in changing her will and disinheriting her nearest and dearest. So far, so cliched. 

However, the characterisation is superior and although for much of the book you wonder when the dramatic action is going to start, the slow build-up leads to an impressive pay-off, with a locked room mystery thrown in. For once, the war plays an integral part in the story. In a sense, therefore, this is a novel which represents a kind of milestone - the transition between the classic country house existence and the harsh realities of modern life. I found, almost to my surprise, that I really cared about the characters. Winifred Watson may have abandoned fiction, but she could write it very well. And I'd like to give special thanks to that very amiable podcaster Sherri Rabinowitz for telling me about this little gem. Much appreciated, Sherri!

The Gift - 2015 film review

The Gift begins in a conventional way. A glamorous couple, Simon and Robyn Callem (Jason Bateman and Rebecca Hall) are house-hunting in Los Angeles, having moved from Chicago, where they obviously enjoyed quite a bit of success. He's a thrusting and ambitious businessman, she is a freelance designer, slightly introspective. They find an upmarket new residence and set about putting their own imprint on it. Then they bump into Gordon ('Gordo') Moseley (Joel Edgerton), who says he is an old schoolfriend of Simon's. 

Simon seems reluctant to acknowledge their connection, but Gordo leaves a bottle of wine on their doorstep as a present and wangles an invitation to dinner. But there is something slightly 'off' about him, and Robyn's doubts increase when he gives them a more lavish gift of koi carp and then invites them to dinner. Soon, this faintly creepy relationship turns sour.

So far, so predictable. There's nothing unusual about home invasion thrillers. But Edgerton - who wrote and directed the film as well as playing a key role - has various surprises up his sleeve. I anticipated some of them, but not the cleverest twist of all, which comes near the end and creates an unsettling mood of uncertainty about the consequences of the encounters between these three people, all of whom are troubled in their own way.

Spoiler alert - nobody dies in this film, and there is nothing too gruesome on screen. But Edgerton cleverly maintains tension throughout and the result is a subtle and suspenseful film that, even though it traverses familiar ground, does so in a relatively fresh way. The three lead actors are all very good, and so is the script. 

Celtic Travels

I'm back home from trips to Ireland (North and the Republic) and then Wales, a thoroughly enjoyable break. I sent off the latest chunk of my work-in-progress to my editor the day before I set off, so at least my literary conscience was clear for the time being - and,as often happens (luckily!) the change of scene helped me while I was thinking out another project...

I've long had an ambition to visit the Giant's Causeway and main purpose of the Irish trip was to fulfil that desire. The Causeway is a fascinating location and - despite a bit of drizzle - it definitely lived up to expectations. We were based in Letterkenny, which has a nice cathedral and a good little museum, while our visits to other places included Donegal (with a boat trip on the lough and sightings of seals and seal pups, plus a pleasing castle and a ruined abbey on the shore), Malin Head, the most northerly part of Ireland, Glenveagh National Park, and the walled city of Derry (where I took a walk along the Peace Bridge - very thought-provoking). It was great to spend a few days in so many evocative places and I found a number of fresh story inspirations.

One place that made a real impression on me was the 'famine village' on the Doagh peninsula. During the potato famine, my great-grandfather fled to England with his family and the story of the horrors that the starving people endured therefore had a special resonance for me. It also made me wonder if now is the time for me to do a bit of research into that side of my family. 

No sooner were we back from Ireland than it was off to North Wales for a couple of days, to celebrate my birthday. Even when I was working full-time in the law, I liked to take at least a day off to go on a trip on my birthday and over the years I've been incredibly lucky with the weather. There was a chance to revisit old haunts in Llandudno, Conwy, and Colwyn Bay, but also to discover a few new places in the area. A real highlight was a boat trip around Llandudno Bay - great fun.  

Forgotten Book - Notice to Quit

James Quince was an interesting writer whose career in crime fiction was brief but intriguing. I've previously discussed The Tin Tree, the first of his novels, and Casual Slaughters, the third and best-known. I was lucky enough to add inscribed copies of them to my collection ten years ago, but his second novel, Notice to Quit, proved elusive until recently, when again I was fortunate to snag an inscribed copy at an unexpectedly modest price. 

An interesting feature of the book is that it's a hardback, published by Hodder in 1932, which makes a big point (as you can see from my photo) of the fact that its price is 3/6. At that time, I believe the usual price for hardback first editions was 7/6. Hodder brought out a number of cheaper books, including titles by Gavin Holt and D.L. Ames, and I assume this was a response to the economic depression, a way of buoying sales when money was tight. 

Whether the scheme worked I don't know for sure, but the very scarcity of Notice to Quit suggest that the print run was small. And it really is scarce - I've not found any online discussion of the book whatsoever, nor anything in any of the usual reference books. 

So what's it all about? Quince was an inventive writer, and here,as in The Tin Tree, he tries to do something different. This is a story about an identity switch and I must admit I find such scenarios inherently fascinating (and yes, there are quite a few of them, of various kinds, in my novels).

In a nutshell, Bill Yolland proposes to change identities with his son John. This is an unusual variation on the standard theme, and the aim is to dodge punitive taxation so that the great family home will stay in the Yolland family, given that Bill receives bad news about his health at the start of the book. The early pages are very entertaining, but things then went in a direction that I didn't expect. In many ways, this story is an interesting take on the generation gap, always a fruitful subject for thoughtful authors.

However, there's also a lot of stuff about politics (the Falklands get mentioned more than once!) and a number of unlikely foreign characters, whose appearance in a Golden Age novel always makes me wince. I think Quince could have done something much more interesting with his excellent premise, but we have to judge a book on what the author set out to do. And unfortunately I don't think it works as well as his other novels.

The Cater Street Hangman (1998) - TV review

Talking Pictures TV has recently shown The Cater Street Hangman, a 1998 TV movie based on Anne Perry's first novel. It's branded The Inspector Pitt Mysteries and so I presume it was intended as the first of a series, or as a pilot for an intended series. But no more shows seems to have been made. Watching it more than 25 years later, I must say I'm surprised. It's well put together, with a nice twisty mystery and good characters.

It also has the merit of starring Keeley Hawes as Charlotte Ellison, who falls in love with Pitt and proceeds to marry him and feature in the long-running series of novels. Basically, it's a story about a serial killer. Someone is killing young women on the eponymous London street. It becomes clear that Charlotte's family is in the thick of the action and includes at least two of the suspects. 

The detection is done by Eoin McCarthy as Pitt. His performance is ok, but perhaps he lacks the star quality of a John Thaw. Certainly Keeley Hawes is the key figure in the story. Her father is played by Peter Egan, a versatile actor who is often very amiable but here plays a rather unpleasant individual. The reliably sinister John Castle is a vicar with a brimstone and treacle approach to preaching, while the consistently enjoyable David Roper and Patsy Rowland make the most of their parts as servants.

The plot is strong - I haven't read the novel, so I can't judge how faithful it is to the source. The period atmosphere is well done, with a sound script by the very experienced T.R. Bowen. I never asked Anne what she thought about the TV version, but she must have been disappointed that it didn't turn into a long-running series, given that the right ingredients seem to have been in place. This is well worth a watch. 

Daniel Sellers' guest post #2: 'Twists - what makes a twist work?'

Today, Daniel Sellers returns to the blog with a second guest post about his thoughts on plot twists: 
'For me, twists are most effective — and impressive — when they’re both ingenious and credible.
There are plenty of twists that don’t meet my ‘gold standard’. I’d argue that a number of well-known crime stories have ingenious but utterly incredible twists: Christie’s Murder in Mesopotamia (1936) and Murder on the Orient Express (1934), for example (though I do love aspects of both books, not least their settings). I’d call these overly ingenious twists ‘eye rollers’, and I’m afraid I’d dump a good few Dickson Carrs in with them too. (Apologies to any fans . . .)

Then there are nicely credible twists that are low on ingenuity, but which are still satisfying. Ruth Rendell was an expert at this kind of utterly compelling, quiet switcheroo, never more so than when she was writing as Barbara Vine. See A Dark-Adapted Eye (1986) and the wonderful Asta’s Book (1993). See also Agatha Christie’s Five Little Pigs (1943), and P D James’s short story, A Very Commonplace Murder (1969). I call these twists ‘quietly satisfying’.
 
Then we have twists that are low in both ingenuity and credibility, and seem to be there purely for the sake of another surprise. See the bizarre ‘Pip and Emma’ reveals in A Murder is Announced (1950). These I call ‘so what?’ twists.
 
So, which crime stories meet my gold standard by being both ingenious and credible? I commend three to you, though there are plenty more:
 
·         Agatha Christie’s Witness for the Prosecution (play: 1953), where the twist is gobsmacking and utterly believable as a lot suddenly makes sense;
 
·         Dennis LeHane’s Shutter Island (2003), where the twist is ‘extrinsic’, according to the classification I proposed in an earlier post. It’s a stormer of a reveal, not only for the main character but for the reader too. It’s also very poignant; and
 
·         Daphne Du Maurier’s Rebecca (1938), where the key twist (two-thirds of the way in) is immediately believable and changes everything. Rebecca also happens to be one of my favourite novels in any genre.'
 
 
Daniel Sellers is author of the Lola Harris Glasgow-based mystery series,
published by Joffe Books.