Of Beasts and Men

The Island of Dr. Moreau
H.G. Wells, 1896

4.5 Stars

There’s something to be said about Victorian Horror. Admittedly, it has stood the test of time, mostly through immortalisation by Universal Studios, and there are a lot of classics out there. Or at least that’s what we’re told. Have any of you actually read Frankenstein? Good lord, what a load of old trite! If I wanted to read a book about a man who believes he’s upset God and then wanders around moping for a few hundred pages before dying, I’d read the ruddy New Testament. Least that way I’d get some bloody spirituality into me.

Anyway. Rant done.

My second adventure into Kindle-dom was H.G. Wells’ lesser classic, the science fiction horror The Island of Dr. Moreau. I must admit, this is one of those books that I’ve always meant to read, but simply never got round to it. Gawd bless you, Kindle free classics!

A tale, like so many literatures of the time, of scientific endeavour gone awfully awry, Dr. Moreau sees young gentleman Prendick cast adrift from his cruise ship, rescued by Doctor Montgomery and his peculiar bestial manservant M’Ling. Taken to the mysterious island of the book’s namesake, Prendick soon finds himself in the hands of a crazed scientist who has been fashioning Beast-Men from pieces of other animals.

Of course, as in all such cautionary tales, all goes a bit Pete Tong and Prendick finds himself the sole survivor of a bestial uprising. Good times all round. Told with intoxicating vigour, this really is a page turner, leaving you right up to the last moment just wondering how on earth Prendick will escape.

Horrifying and impossible to put down, The Island of Dr. Moreau is a true classic of the genre, and certainly knocks the socks of that ruddy Mary Shelley malarkey.

Whenever You're In Trouble, Won't You...

Stand By Me
Rob Reiner, 1986

5 Stars

Good films are magical things; an ability to make us laugh, or to make us cry, to make us remember the good ol’ days, or to really make us think about life itself are all hallmarks of a good film. It takes a truly great picture, however, to do all of the above, and indeed much more besides.

Having had a pretty shitty couple of weeks at work, I decided last night that I really needed a classic; something that despite making would weep like a small baby, would inevitably cheer me up no end. And so it was that I came to be wandering the tracks oft travelled with Rob Reiner’s classic Stand By Me.

Based on Stephen King’s The Body, (one of the Castle Rock stories, of which I have all but finished Needful Things, the final book in the series, and as such am now seeing characters from the earlier tales, such as this, in much different lights, knowing what horrific ends they are soon to come to…) Stand by Me is a real tour-de-force of a coming of age tale. The story is simple enough; four kids, all of whom are of the classic King disfunctionality, go looking for the missing body of one of their classmates, along the way dodging trains, getting swamped by leaches, almost shooting Keifer Sutherland and, in a beautifully un-nauseating way, discovering the true meaning of friendship.

What makes this such a classic however, is the true conviction of its young cast. It is a rare occasion that four child actors are thrown together, and not only can they act superbly, but they also meld so very well on screen that you really believe they are the very bestest friends in the world. Pre Star Trek Wil Wheaton is both touching and utterly believable as young Gordie, whilst Corey Feldman gives his ever-glistening loudmouth another spectacular outing and Jerry O’Connell (the one that no-one remembers… Went on to do Sliders…) is a joy to watch as neurotic “fat kid” Vern.

Of course, it’s the late River Phoenix who really steals the screen, however, as simply the most amazing best friend a kid could ever want. His portrayal as stalwart young Chris is utterly moving, and there are so many times throughout the movie when this old sap is moved to tears by his conviction. The final revelation is a real mover. Sigh.

Moving, nostalgic, and utterly beautiful, Stand By Me is a rare masterpiece of filmmaking.

Also, there’s that awesome song in it…

The Rite way to do an Exorcism

The Rite
Mikael Hafstrom, 2011

4 Stars

More than thirty years ago, an exorcism movie “based on a true story” rocked the world with its shocking portrayal of the degeneration of young Reagan, and its delightful subliminal images that flash behind your eyelids whilst in the shower for weeks after watching. In the years that have passed since this cinematic goliath, there have been numerous “true stories” of exorcisms (The Exorcism of Emily Rose, The Last Exorcism, blah, blah, blah), each one revolving around a young girl, and each one really quite lame.

And so came this Monday evening, when a beast of an earthquake sent Manami and I to the cinema in search of some cultural relief. Under my lady friend’s behest, I agreed somewhat tentatively to see Anthony Hopkins’ latest outing, The Rite, another exorcism tale based on a true story.

But, good golly, was I in for a surprise!

Telling the tale of young priest Michael Kovak, insecure in his faith (played by new face Colin O’Donoghue) who is sent to the Vatican in order to train as an exorcist, The Rite is immediately intriguing and thought provoking. Enter Hopkins, on fine form as experienced exorcist Father Lucas, and the scene is set for something special.

More an excursion into Christian mythology than a straight-out horror film, The Rite follows Lucas and Kovak as they track the demon Baal through various hosts, ending, as is given away by the trailer, with the possession of Lucas himself, during which Hopkins really gives his most deliciously evil portrayal of a character since Lecter. Throughout the course of the film, beliefs are questioned, and the essence of good and evil discussed in great detail.

A two hour long movie that led to a full night of philosophical discussions, this is a rare treat indeed, and certainly hits all of the “rite” buttons.

Ahahaha.

Down the Kindle-Shaped Rabbit Hole

I remember as a kid hearing speculation that someday the written word would no longer be bound in paper; that within my own lifetime, the book would become obsolete, making way for a new breed of literature, one that could be carried in one’s pocket, and store the library of Alexandria if needs want.

Of course, as an avid reader, and a true follower of the pulp form, I disregarded this fanciful nonsense as just that – surely a technology that has lasted, and indeed served perfectly well, for centuries could never be replaced by mere electro-faff.

But then came the Kindle. A high tech fashion accessory for book worms. Smaller than a DVD box, easy to use, and able to hold over one thousand tomes, the Kindle is a surprisingly nifty bit of kit, and with wireless delivery, it’s certainly handy for a world-weary traveller such as myself, who more often than not traverses the globe with more than half his luggage allowance set aside for reading materials.

And yet, I wasn’t sold. Indeed, I know there are thousands out there who would give the same old arguments that I did; touch, texture and smell… and is it the same? Well, no, of course it isn’t , but with the world at your fingertips, and classic literature available for free download, once you master the left and right “page turning”, you really find yourself not caring. With no backlight on the device, after a few moments, you truly forget it’s an electronic thingamabob, and simply get lost in a good book… or PDF file… or whatever the hell you want to call it…

Alice in Wonderland
Lewis Carroll, 1865

3 Stars

Taking advantage of Amazon’s free classics collection, I decided, rather aptly, that my first Kindle adventure should send me tumbling down the metaphorical rabbit hole in the Reverend Dodgeson’s classic tale of lust, paedophilia and hallucinogenic opiates; Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. Growing up, Alice was always a favourite; my mum’s antiquated copy one of my comfort reads, adding even moreso to its dilapidation. As such, it was somewhat strange that my first foray into e-reading should be a tale so associated with its librarian form. But then, what better way to break the binding?

A far cry from Burton’s travesty of film making, Carroll’s tale is a dark and delightful series of random happenstance in the dreamscape of a young girl, as she finds herself following the White Rabbit as it leads her through her own poetic and confused psyche. Or at least that’s how it reads nowadays… Gone is the childhood innocence with which I remember reading and giggling many years ago, replaced instead with the jaded opinion that really, it’s just a load of drug induced twaddle.

The narrative of Alice’s Adventures is both episodic and utterly nonsensical, leading to a set of rather bizarre and inconsequential occurrences that just so happen to concern the same girl. Indeed, as unfortunately becomes the Kindle, without its charming illustrations, there is little oomph to proceedings. After all, as Alice said, “what is the use of a book with no pictures in it?”

That said, the poetic verses of Alice Adventures still stand strong, proving Carroll to be a master wordsmith of sorts, despite his drug addled ramblings. His characters, meanwhile, remain as memorable and as delightful as ever, with the Dodo and the Duchess still my own personal favourites.

Perhaps it’s testament to growing up, or maybe just an unfortunate embitterment, but something has become lost in Wonderland… And not just an innocent young girl.