For completeness' sake, here's the poem I wrote as my third assignment for the Open Uni Creative Writing course. I didn't score as well as the prose pieces, but then I'm no poet. However, I did quite like the finished piece, even if it didn't tick all the right marking boxes.
Admission
Here is my latest piece of creative writing, submitted as TMA04 on the Open University Course I'm studying. I was suprised and pleased with the mark it got. This piece was written as part of the Life Writing section of the course and is autobiographical.
Please note that the story contains language that some viewers may find offensive. Names have not been changed to protect the innocent. There are no innocents.
jrm_gwm84
I seem to have seen so many films recently, on TV, DVD and at the cinema and I've not had time/inclination to write a lot about each one. So for the sake of completeness, I'm going to zip through what I've seen here, starting with TV drama Page Eight (2011), a slow yet solid tale of espionage starring Bill Nighy. Then there was Bringing Up Baby (1938), the hilarious screwball comedy that sees Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn trading barbs as they try to track down the titular Baby, a pet leopard on the loose, and Hepburn tries her darndest to snag her man. I've seen this film before and it's an absolute hoot, so I was eager to get Andrew to watch it to see what he thought - for the same reason we watched The Birdcage (1996), the hilarious US remake of La Cage aux Folles starring Robin Williams and Nathan Lane as a gay couple who are shocked to learn 'their' son is to marry the daughter of a Republican senator. Funny and unexpectedly touching, The Birdcage doesn't do a great deal for the gay cause, but it's hard to be offended when everyone's having so much fun.
A change of tack to documentary and Sarah Palin: You Betcha! (2011), where Nick Broomfield investigates the strange world of the one-time VP hopeful through interviews with family and friends. And once it becomes clear that Broomfield is making an honest documentary rather than a puff piece about how amazing Palin is, the access to family dries up pretty quick. I didn't think that Broomfield set out with a liberal agenda per se, but he soon uncovered a lot of dodgy back story and delusion behind the soccer-mom smokescreen that painted a convincing and scary picture of Palin.
Panned by the critics and shunned by audiences, I went into John Carter (2012) with an open mind (and a buy-one-get-one-free email voucher from Disney) and was completely blown away. I cannot see why everyone is down on this movie, it's exciting, it's funny, it's original and it is much better than many other CGI sci-fi epics I can think of (yeah, Phantom Menace, I mean you). I've not stopped talking about it to friends and colleagues since. Taylor Kitsch is hunky and a hero to route for as the title character, a widowed US Civil War veteran who is mysteriously transported to Barsoom/Mars where he gets caught up in the red planet's own internal fights. Filled with spectacle, non-irritating CG characters, suprisingly dark moments and much more, John Carter's fully-realised world is one I'd love to go back to in future films, but alas that's unlikely.
Special effects on a much smaller budget and screen made last Christmas' The Borrowers (2011) a believable and fun tale that up-dated Arrietty's family and found them living under Victoria Wood's floorboards. Stephen Fry's scientist gets wind and determines to expose the little folk to the world in a plot that is bigger than the Ghibli movie but less sweetly engaging. A much more odd interpretation of a classic children's story, Wes Anderson's stop-motion Fantastic Mr. Fox (2009) features an assortment of indie voices plus George Clooney and Meryl Streep as Mr and Mrs Fox, and a laconic tone that suits the story to a tee.
After reading William Goldman's novel I revisited The Princess Bride (1987) on DVD. I didn't get the big deal the first time around, and while I can see why it has earned cult status, like the book before it I still felt it was lacking an extra something to expand the idea of a parody fairytale into a roaring success. What the movie did was make me want to watch Cary Elwes really letting loose in Robin Hood: Men in Tights again! The Princess Bride felt oddly low key as a whole, something that could also be said of Monsters (2010), the economically made movie about two characters who are thrown together to travel across alien-infested landsThe low budget meant that this was more a character study than a John Carter style action-fest, with the CGI aliens only briefly glimpsed. Perhaps actually it is more of a love story than anything else, as well as a pretty trip around the jungles of Central America.
Finally, last Wednesday we went to the cinema to see The Pirates! In an Adventure with Scientists! (2012), in 3D, Aardman Animation's latest claymation feature. The most joyfully silly movie I've seen since The Muppets, The Pirates is packed full of sight gags and witty lines, run through with an earthy Britishness and randomness reminiscent of Monty Python. While not as consistently laugh-filled as Chicken Run, I found The Pirates more satisfying than Curse of the Were-Rabbit and left the cinema with a massive smile on my face. And that concludes the movie part of the update!
I seem to have whizzed through a handful of books in the last few weeks, including Madonna: An Intimate Biography (J. Randy Taraborrelli, 2002) which does what it says on the cover, up to the Drowned World tour in 2002 anyway. With Madonna's MDNA proving to be all kinds of danceable I decided to finally pull this book off the shelf before it got even more out of date (I was hoping the library would have the more up-to-date edition, but sadly not) and find out a bit more about the Queen of Pop. Taraborrelli seems to have had excellent access to friends and family, as well as having a healthy regard for the successes and failures that Madonna has experienced in the worlds of music and movies in her life. My over-whelming impression was that she was a bit of a bitch with a single-minded desire for success and infamy, but that a lot of the bluster of Madonna comes from her experiences as a child, losing her mother young and seeing her father remarry. Reading about Madonna's life gave me a greater understanding of some of her lyrics, why she went in certain directions, and how hard it must be for a man to be in a relationship with her. The biography was an easy, enlightening read, full of gossip and intrigue but without being salacious or tawdry.
Slightly different non-fiction, but I suppose still dealing with a mythical creature, The Natural History of Unicorns (Chris Lavers, 2009) was the very first book I've taken out of a (public) library. It caught my eye as I browsed the shelves as it seemed like such an odd concept that I had to know more. Lavers traces the history of the unicorn in ancient texts from disparate parts of the world, through representations in the Bible and Christianity, to treks into Africa to hunt the fabled one-horned creature. In trying to uncover the real life animals that prompted belief in the unicorn, and the mystical attributes given to 'alicorn', the name given to the horn and the substane it is made from, Lavers provides a natural history of the narwhal, the okapi and various antelope and goats that could have inspired the myths. While on occasion the text seemed to veer too far away from unicorns in parsing ancient bits of writing, Lavers creates convincing arguments to point to how unicorns were/are real, they are just amalgamations of living animals combined with the desire and belief of humans that such a divine being can exist.
On the fiction front I polished off Buried (Mark Billingham, 2006), in which DI Thorne, who I haven't caught up with in a while, investigates a kidnapping in his own inimitable, realistic and humorous style; and Murder Suicide (Keith Ablow, 2004) which sees forensic psychologist Frank Clevenger trying to understand whether a brilliant inventor committed suicide days before life-changing surgery, or whether he was murdered by one of the many suspects in his life. Thorne and Clevenger are typical crime heroes in that they are somewhat maverick-style loners with flaws, yet Billingham and Ablow steer clear of cliché with tightly plotted mysteries that are all about character and character development of their leads. So Thorne continues to grapple with the death of his father a couple of books ago, while Clevenger has an adopted teenage son to mentor and protect. Billingham and Ablow are writers I am always happy to come back to.
In a break away from detective fiction I took another long-term resident from the book shelf and 
finally cracked the front page on The Princess Bride (William Goldman, 1973/99). I had seen the movie version some time ago and must admit that I didn't really get it, so I was intrigued by what the book would be. It's an oddity. Goldman is supposedly so enamoured with a book that his grandfather read to him as a sick child, written by S. Morgenstern of Florin, a country supposedly existing in Northern Europe, and so he sets out to translate an English abridgement for his own son. Thus Goldman and his 'family' are characters in the background of the telling of the tale of Princess Buttercup, her suitor Wesley, evil Prince Humperdinck, giant Fezzik and swordsman Inigo Montoya, and Goldman regularly breaks into the story to explain parts, tell you what he cut from the Morgenstern text and to reassure the reader when it looks like a favourite character may die. It's a tricky way to write a book, and I'm not sure I really bought it and the reasons for it. It is funny in the parody aspect of fairy tale heroes and adventurous derring do, and the plot is engaging and warm hearted, I just can't help but feel that perhaps it doesn't have quite enough bite to really work as a spoof.
My second library loan was Remembrance of Things I Forgot (Bob Smith, 2011), a book that has rattled around in my mind for days after reading. The premise is fantastic - John Sherkston plans to break up with his boyfriend, who has just invented a time machine for the US Government in 2006, when evil Vice President Dick Cheney hits a switch and sends John back to 1986, where he teams up with his young self and young future-boyfriend to try and prevent his sister from killing herself in 15 years, as well as to prevent George W. Bush from becoming President and screwing the country. How could this set up not reap huge rewards? And it truly does, for the most part. Smith has a fantastically ascerbic wit that had me really laughing out loud, and the time travel plotting is intricate and well constructed, full of what ifs and ponderous questions like, if you could go back and time and change something, would you. Nowhere is this question better explored than in John's attempts to save his father from drinking himself to death, and his sister from shooting herself - his interactions with his family as a middle-aged man are touchingly portrayed, adding much depth and emotional heft to the novel. Initially, the idea of an evil Cheney running around 1986 trying to stop John from changing the future is hilarious and the liberal bias of the character and writer is screamingly clear. Unfortunately, I found the continued attacks on Cheney and Bush became wearying and a little repetitive, and the characters' plans to frame Bush in a sex scandal thereby preventing his presidency is funny but on occasion the barbs are just out right nasty. I mean, I understand that their time in office wasn't the best - yes there were wars, people died - but they were not super villains without conscience (or Syria's Assad). Luckily things get back on track by the end of the book and the bad taste doesn't linger as long as the exciting ideas thrown up by the time travel plot - chief of which involves the confusing sexual attraction between John and his 26 year old self ('Junior'), a quirk that wouldn't have been possible had the lead been heterosexual, and a very enticing quandry it is at that.
In the last 4 weeks I've managed to fit in 5 trips to the theatre, two as a volunteer at the Playhouse and three as paying punter at The Grand. Back on 15/03/12 was Chess (The Grand), a musical by Benny Andersson and Björn Ulvaeus (i.e. the BB in ABBA) and Tim Rice written during and set within the context of the Cold War. Happily I didn't need to know anything about the rules of the boardgame to enjoy the plot, which centred around clashes between the US and Soviet chess champions and some tricky political shenanigans, but it helped that I had an understanding of the historical context. The company, LAOS, handled the staging well with a central chess board/dance floor that changed colour and acted as a playing area for the characters to scheme around. The voices of the female cast were particularly impressive, and I discovered that 'I Know Him So Well' has its origins in the show. The show has made me want to visit the original concept album that preceded the West End musical.
We returned to The Grand on 23/03/12 for Travelling Light, a new play written by Nicholas Wright, a name I'm not familiar with, although I was pleased to see he'd authored some of the excellent yet short lived The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency. The main draw for this drama was the fact that it was about the early days of cinema, a subject I have become more and more intrigued about. It also starred the talented, attractive Damien Molony, who we were enjoying so much in Being Human at the time - it also turned out we'd seen his professional debut in 'Tis Pity She's a Whore last year, so we've now seen all of his work. (Sir) Antony Sher also starred as the jovial Jewish merchant who funds Molony's nascent efforts at making a movie in their Eastern European shtetl - he was much better here than in the awful production of The Tempest we saw back in April 2009. The whole production was gripping from beginning to end, from the subject matter, setting and characters to the unexpected plot developments and semi-history lessons about movie making outside Hollywood.
The day after Travelling Light I flew solo (left Andrew at home) in order to volunteer at Swallows & Amazons (24/03/12). Unfamiliar with the story, I wasn't expecting much, particularly as I believed this would be a show for the kids. I was happily suprised to find that this semi-musical drama was actually rather fun and very inventive in the staging. A family of 5 'jolly hockey-sticks' type middle class kids in inter-war Britain go on holiday to an island and have a fantasy adventure as the Swallows, a gang of explorers who are out to defeat the nafarious pirate captain and rival sisters, the Amazons. It's a good natured affair, utterly inoffensive with a smattering of toe-tapping songs that didn't linger too long in the memory. Leaving aside the one black child among the siblings, an inclusive gesture that came across somewhat token (and the fact the character's named 'Titty'), there was nothing to gripe about. The scenery movers and props people provided many (intentional) laughs with their ways, like flicking water at the cast to simulate moving through a storm, or holding up toy boats within circles of cardboard to represent telescope sights. A fun, free night out, musn't grumble.
Helen Edmundson, co-writer of Swallows & Amazons, was also responsible for Mary Shelley (28/03/12), showing in the Playhouse's other theatre. This was a more adult show that delivered a biographical drama about the woman who, at the age of just 18, write the massively influential Frankenstein, along with her poet husband Percy Shelley and her famous family. The female-weighted cast delivered bravua performances that brought each family member alive and worked to show how Mary's experiences informed her signature novel. It was a play that I appreciated greatly as I watched, but one that hasn't stuck around in my head long afterwards.
Finally, on 04/04/12, we had a group outing to see Sister Act, a musical for which I had high expectations, based on how much I enjoyed the movie and it's soundtrack (none of which was ported over into the stage version), and because of the potential for camp exuberance. I can almost say that I found the musical to be even more fabulous than the film! Set in the late seventies, the music was a soul/disco mix that never hit a bum note, and the expansion of the plot from the original's murder-witness-hides-out-in-a-convent, with bigger roles for the bad guy Eddie and an added love interest in cop Curtis, were beneficial and created a show that can comfortably inhabit the same world as the movie without feeling redundant. I'd go so far as to say the sheer joy that Sister Act engendered in my whole being puts it up there with The Lion King and Hairspray as a favourite musical. The 'star' names, Denise Black (seen before in Bedroom Farce) and Michael Starke (the narrator in Rocky Horror) were competent but the real star was Cynthia Erivo in the lead role of Deloris - she fairly belted out infectious numbers like Take Me to Heaven, Fabulous Baby!, and the beautiful Sister Act. She was ably supported by a host of singing nuns on show-stoppers Raise Your Voice and Spread the Love Around. I can't wait to get the soundtrack!
After reading William Goldman's novel I revisited The Princess Bride (1987) on DVD. I didn't get the big deal the first time around, and while I can see why it has earned cult status, like the book before it I still felt it was lacking an extra something to expand the idea of a parody fairytale into a roaring success. What the movie did was make me want to watch Cary Elwes really letting loose in Robin Hood: Men in Tights again! The Princess Bride felt oddly low key as a whole, something that could also be said of Monsters (2010), the economically made movie about two characters who are thrown together to travel across alien-infested landsThe low budget meant that this was more a character study than a John Carter style action-fest, with the CGI aliens only briefly glimpsed. Perhaps actually it is more of a love story than anything else, as well as a pretty trip around the jungles of Central America. 
finally cracked the front page on The Princess Bride (William Goldman, 1973/99). I had seen the movie version some time ago and must admit that I didn't really get it, so I was intrigued by what the book would be. It's an oddity. Goldman is supposedly so enamoured with a book that his grandfather read to him as a sick child, written by S. Morgenstern of Florin, a country supposedly existing in Northern Europe, and so he sets out to translate an English abridgement for his own son. Thus Goldman and his 'family' are characters in the background of the telling of the tale of Princess Buttercup, her suitor Wesley, evil Prince Humperdinck, giant Fezzik and swordsman Inigo Montoya, and Goldman regularly breaks into the story to explain parts, tell you what he cut from the Morgenstern text and to reassure the reader when it looks like a favourite character may die. It's a tricky way to write a book, and I'm not sure I really bought it and the reasons for it. It is funny in the parody aspect of fairy tale heroes and adventurous derring do, and the plot is engaging and warm hearted, I just can't help but feel that perhaps it doesn't have quite enough bite to really work as a spoof. 
