Showing posts with label Fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fiction. Show all posts

Wednesday, 7 October 2020

Who is the best James Bond? - Spectator Life, August 20, 2020




 



Who is the best James Bond?
Patrick West


A Radio Times survey last week, involving 14,000 participants, voted Sean Connery the best James Bond. This is hardly shocking news. The Scot has for years been regarded as not only the first but the best on-screen 007. Less predictable was the news of who emerged in the poll as everyone’s second-favourite Bond: Timothy Dalton.

A discombobulated Daily Telegraph article called Dalton’s placing – above Pierce Brosnan – a ‘big surprise’. Indeed, one would have expected the much-loved Roger Moore, who is almost as synonymous with the role as Connery, to have at least garned the runners-up spot.

I suspect there were many diehard Bond aficionados among the voters. Because for some years now, among the party faithful, Timothy Dalton’s interpretation has been held in reverence for being the Bond most faithful to Ian Fleming’s literary creation.

In his two outings as the secret agent, The Living Daylights (1987) and Licence To Kill (1989), Dalton’s Bond is a serious professional, an often violent, dark and ruthless character, who brought back an authentic air of menace and brutality to 007. He was a far cry from Moore’s suave, wise-cracking and flippant Bond, and indeed this incarnation was a deliberate move by Dalton.

Timothy Dalton had originally been approached to play James Bond in 1971, but turned down the part, believing himself to be too young. Eon Productions, who were behind the films, repeated the approach in 1979, but Dalton didn’t want to play a jokey and cartoonish Bond as now Moore had made it. When Dalton, a classical Shakespearean actor, was finally cast in 1986, he did so on the insistence that his Bond would be brought back to his literary origins. He said that year: ‘I intend to approach this project with a sense of responsibility to the work of Ian Fleming.’

Dalton reflected in a 1989 interview:

‘I think Roger was fine as Bond, but the films had become too much techno-pop and had lost track of their sense of story. I mean, every film seemed to have a villain who had to rule or destroy the world. If you want to believe in the fantasy on screen, then you have to believe in the characters and use them as a stepping-stone to lead you into this fantasy world. That’s a demand I made, and Albert Broccoli agreed with me.’

To bring back authenticity to the role, Dalton returned to the source material: Fleming’s novels. ‘On those pages I discovered a Bond I’d never seen on the screen, a quite extraordinary man, a man I really wanted to play, a man of contradictions and opposites.’ The result was not only a more gritty Bond, but one set apart from the fantasy worlds of megalomaniac baddies inhabiting volcanoes or space stations, and set instead firmly in real life scenarios – in war-torn Afghanistan (The Living Daylights) and among drug barons in South America (Licence To Kill), just as Fleming’s early Bond outings had been mired in the Cold War.


Timothy Dalton and Carey Lowell in Licence to Kill (Photo: Shutterstock)

Dalton’s determination to return Bond to his origins may not have charmed younger fans who had grown up with Roger Moore, but the critics were impressed with his mission. ‘Latest 007 thriller is truer to original, violent nature of Ian Fleming’s hero.’ That was the Ottowa Citizen’s verdict on Licence to Kill. The Chicago Tribune agreed: ‘Timothy Dalton gives us a 007 that Ian Fleming would have loved’. The James Bond author Raymond Benson concluded that Dalton was ‘the most accurate and literal interpretation of the role … ever seen on screen’
Dalton’s films were dirty affairs, as the hard-edged Licence To Kill – released in an age of Die Hard and Lethal Weapon films – was the first Bond movie to rated 15 in the UK. In this second and last outing, Dalton’s Bond is border-line psychotic, resigning from the Secret Intelligence Service in order to pursue his own agenda of revenge.

Dalton, who was 40 when he eventually assumed the role, was precisely the right age to be Bond. He even resembled the protagonist. While Fleming had described as six foot tall, with a slim build, grey-blue eyes, a ‘cruel’ mouth and with short black hair that leads to a point, Timothy Dalton was himself 6′ 2” with black hair, grey-blue eyes and slim build.

‘Half the world loved Sean Connery and half the world loved Roger Moore,’ Dalton once remarked, demurely. And while there are those who will always prefer Sean Connery’s sex appeal or Roger Moore’s naff humour to Timothy Dalton’s total lack of either, in the role, it’s heartening to see that Dalton’s Bond is still given the recognition it deserves.

Tuesday, 6 October 2020

Harry Potter’s dwindling popularity is a great shame - Spectator Coffee House, February 28, 2020




Harry Potter’s dwindling popularity is a great shame
Patrick West




Teenagers are no longer reading Harry Potter books in their legions, it emerged this week, as J.K. Rowling’s series dropped out of the top ten favourite books for secondary school pupils. Instead, teens are reading books aimed at primary school children. This is disquieting news. Of all the books teenagers can access, they should be reading the Harry Potter books.

They're not perfect, of course. For one, the storylines are derivate: orphan raised by aunt and uncle encounters a bearded old man, goes on an epic journey with his buddies, undergoes tasks and magic training, and defeats ogres before encountering the dark lord in his lair. Our hero emerges victorious! Star Wars anyone? Lord of the Rings? In fairness, all three sagas are manifestations of a monomyth found in most cultures, as outlined by anthropologist Joseph Campbell in his 1949 work The Hero With A Thousand Faces.

Less forgivable are Rowling's transparent metropolitan liberal leanings. Suburbia, where Harry's petty, suspicious and narrow-minded aunt and uncle live, is demonised. Uncle Dursley reads the Daily Mail, of course he does.

Yet there is much that is commendable. J.K. Rowling may be a bit too fond of adverbs, semi-colons and the present participle (verbs ending ‘-ing’), but otherwise the syntax is a treat and a model for those studying English. She combines simple, active voice clauses, plain verbs with a rhythmic, flowing cadence and decorative, advanced vocabulary.

She's an old-school, middlebrow author, a modern-day Agatha Christie. In her transparent prose, words function as a window to the storyline. This is why devotees of literary fiction hate it: they regard words as something to be toyed with, and style more important than story.

Such detractors invariably miss the point. In 2007, the literary critic Nicholas Lezard wrote in the Guardian of ‘prose that reasonably intelligent nine-year-olds consider pretty hot stuff, if they're producing it themselves; for a highly-educated woman like Rowling to knock out the same kind of material is, shall we say, somewhat disappointing.’ Yet the Harry Potter books are precisely meant to impress children. It's like saying primary school teachers should be teaching algebra instead of arithmetic.


She has improved the literacy levels of millions of children. As one Potter-fan – dubbed ‘Potterheads’ – explained on quora.com, ‘I was a youth worker (voluntary, part-time) when the Harry Potter series came out. I was working in one of England’s most deprived communities, in East Birmingham. Over a couple of years, I saw kids, who could barely read a sentence out loud without stumbling, get the Harry Potter bug. Six months later, they could read like they were born to it... I think it’s fair to say that Rowling single-handedly saved that generation from illiteracy.’

Harry Potter novels are also ideal for teenagers learning a second language. They are packed with guessable incantations in Latin and pseudo-Latin. Students with a deep knowledge of the storylines could improve their grades by trying out the books in Latin translation. The same goes for French A-Level students and undergraduates in practically any world language. (To improve my own language learning I read Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone in Italian and Catalan.)

The virtues from the Harry Potter books are not merely educational. The stories set a good example for future citizens. With Harry befriending and defending 'muggles', 'mud-bloods', 'half-bloods' – victims of a sort of racism – he instils the virtues of tolerance and understanding. As a 2014 study published in the Journal of Applied Social Psychology showed, children who read Harry Potter, or any stories in which the protagonists mix with otherwise stigmatised groups, develop improved attitudes in real life towards social outcasts. And the books are ideal for both boys and girls, having strong, active female role-models such as Hermione, Ginny, professor McGonagall, Mrs Weasley and Luna Lovegood.

Yet the liberal, humanistic message of the Harry Potter books isn't laboured or distracting. And who could really argue with them? Being tolerant of people and judging them by their character, not ethnicity, are laudable virtues. There is nothing wrong, either, with strong, active female characters. I started reading the saga so I could share the experience with my Potter-mad nieces; I want them to grow up strong and active.

The books do even more than teach empathy and accepting difference. They show young minds the importance of loyalty and friendship – through thick and thin. They tell us that life is complicated, there is good and bad in us all, and that people can change. They encourage us to be brave and stick up for doing the right thing, even when the right thing is difficult. In short, they prepare children for what lies ahead
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Why are BBC dramas so obsessed with rewriting history? - Spectator Coffee House, February 26, 2020




Why are BBC dramas so obsessed with rewriting history?
Patrick West



If there was a Bafta award for Most Woke Television Drama, a BBC production would win every year hands down. Consider some of 2020’s highlights alone: Noughts and Crosses, set in an alternate world where the ruling class is black and in which white people are the victims of racism; My Name is Leon, about a mixed-race boy growing up in care; and A Suitable Boy, a drama about arranged marriages with an entirely Indian cast. And of course, there’s always the female lead in Doctor Who, a series that now features storylines about civil rights, the environment and even allusions to Brexit.

That’s fine really, and nothing new by the BBC’s dependably grating track record. The real problem, however, is when the Corporation starts tinkering with historical drama or stories adapted from classic literature. Last year, it released an interpretation of War of The Worlds, in which a nameless minor character from the 1898 HG Wells novel was given a leading role. Elsewhere in its production of A Christmas Carol, Bob Cratchit’s family became mixed-race, while Bram Stoker’s Dracula was recently rendered bisexual.

Although this annoys plenty of viewers, especially fans of the original texts, it does not bother the BBC’s head of drama, who argues that the corporation must ‘repurpose’ classic novels by giving them female, black and Asian characters. Speaking at the launch of youth-focused BBC dramas this week, Piers Wenger said the BBC has a duty to represent the country as it is now, not how it was in the 19th century.

‘They were adaptations of books that were written a long time ago – hundreds of years ago – but we are repurposing them for a contemporary audience.’ Wenger said that period dramas not only need to speak to a modern audience but ‘represent a contemporary world.’ He added: ‘I really object when I hear “woke” used in a pejorative way, because what does “woke” really mean? If it means quality being important, and fair representation being important, then yes absolutely, that’s important to me.’

The problem is that most of the viewing public doesn’t like woke drama – as Doctor Who‘s dwindling audience testifies. Viewers find the manipulation and mangling of classic 19th century novels for cultural-political ends profoundly irritating and vaguely sinister.

It’s one thing to compromise the integrity of original texts, but it’s another to deliberately misrepresent the past. Sure, A Christmas Carol is fiction, but it was written in and exists in a 19th century London that is real and authentic. Its author was a former journalist with a fine eye for detail. And though there were mixed-race families in London in 1843 there were far fewer than today, and Dickens never mentioned the race of the Cratchit family.

Of course, we all know why such alterations are made. But in changing the London represented in 1843, the BBC is changing people’s perception of this country’s past. It’s rewriting history by the second degree. This is the ultimate reason why many find woke adaptations devious and menacing. It amounts to rewriting the past to suit the present.

I gave up on original BBC drama a long time ago for this reason. It’s going the same way as BBC television and radio comedy, which has become consumed by politics at the expense of humour. The likes of Mock The Week or The Now Show have been ruined by leftish, anti-Brexit harpings. And the best original comedy is now produced by the Dave channel, which appreciates that making people laugh is comedy’s number one priority.

Likewise, the best drama in recent years has either been in a foreign language, such as Spiral, Borgen or Gomorrah, or was not developed with the BBC – such as Breaking Bad, Games of Thrones and Chernobyl, programmes with gripping storylines, great characterisation and no transparent propaganda on show in their composition.

A good drama’s number one priority is to tell a good story. When we know producers are manipulating us, it distracts us and detracts from the storyline. The BBC needs all the friends it can get at the moment and its defence of deceitful woke drama won’t do it any favours.

Monday, 13 November 2017

Tuesday, 18 April 2017

Book review: On The Edge


On the Edge
RAFAEL CHIRBES, TRANS. MARGARET JULL COSTA
(HARVILL SECKER, 421 PP, £16.99)

The final novel by Rafael Chirbes, who died two years ago, is ostensibly a bleak portrayal of a Spain ravaged by recession and plunged into despair. It is set in the seaside town of Olba, one of thousands of towns throughout the country devastated by the financial crisis, a land now left strewn with half-finished construction sites, debt and corruption. Laid-off workers sit idle at home on shabby sofas or wile away the time playing dominos in bars, while their wives wonder what they will fill their children's lunchboxes with. Everyone, so to speak, is on the edge.

The main protagonist of the novel, Esteban, was until recently the owner of a carpentry business, but is now penniless and living with his selfish, senile father - now mute and in nappies. The majority of the novel consists in relating his inner dialogue, often in paragraphs that go unbroken for pages, in which he wonders why it all went wrong and who is to blame. It is interspersed with italicized passages from those around him, including those of the staff he had to lay off, each also reflecting on their wretched predicament.

It is an intriguing and entrancing experiment. Esteban's stream of consciousness is rambling and meandering yet lucid: think Finnegans Wake with real words and normal syntax. The prose is thick and relentless, the seaside town is unrelentingly putrid and grubby. There are some wonderful turns of phrase: “Lagoons don’t get a very good press: fever, malaria, filth”; “Work? Only if you want a job digging graves for suicides.” It is a turbulent, tormented affair. “Economics in its purest form,” reflects Esteban, is about “how to stick the knife in the pig’s gullet so that it makes as little fuss as possible when it dies.” 

Although superficially a searing indictment of a system that brought a country to its knees, On The Edge is a far more ambiguous and nuanced story than first impressions might suggest. There is the nagging feeling that Estaban believes the town and the country has brought such calamity on itself, what with betrayal and disloyalties exhibited by the characters themselves in response to their plight. Estaban himself is a victim of his own weakness for cheap credit.

If On the Edge is a tale of embitterment, resentment and regret, it is as much Esteban's than the town of Olba or Spain's. His whole bungled life, he feels, has been frustrated by his father's contagious rancour. He reflects on ending as a bog-standard carpenter, unable even to have aspiration. "Perhaps, if I'd had ambition, I would have been even more bitter, would have become impregnated with the bile that has always filled my father". Esteban retreats for the most part into lurid sexual fantasies, before, in the end in seeks refuge in a vortex of childhood memories, to a time before death and money.

PATRICK WEST

(This book review was due to appear in a publication, but for administrative reasons did not)

Friday, 18 November 2016

Spiked, November 18, 2016


The rise of the Capitalist Left
Today's self-styled radicals care more about GDP figures than people.

Friday, 22 April 2016

Spiked, April 22, 2016

Don Quixote: birth and death of the novel
Cervantes’ classic was the first postmodern novel. Pity it wasn't the last too.

Friday, 18 March 2016

Spiked, March 18, 2016

It’s no surprise that Jeremy Clarkson is pro-EU
The former Top Gear presenter is the perfect poster-boy for Remain.


Friday, 30 October 2015

Spiked, October 30, 2015


Cheese is as addictive as crack? Give me a break
These gastronomic jihadists will stop at nothing.

Friday, 14 August 2015

in Spiked, August 7, 2015


L’Étranger: absurdist, not racist
It’s folly to view Camus' great novel through the lens of post-colonial theory.