Category: Geek Alert

X&HT Spotlight: Simon Aitken

This is the first in an occasional series where I big up, flatter and otherwise encourage you to bow down and worship in front of some of the many talented people that I am pleased and privileged to call my friends. And I mean that most sincerely.

Most of you know Simon Aitken as the director and prime mover behind quirky vampire romance Blood + Roses. (If you haven’t seen it yet: why not? Here’s the Amazon link. Go ahead, treat yourself.)

But he’s also a skilful camera operator and DOP, and I think he’s doing great work as part of the DSLR movement that’s changing the face and look of modern lo-to-no budget film-making.

A little background if I’ve just jargoned you into submission. The current range of high-end digital stills cameras can take full HD video as well, and the sensors they use to capture images compare favourably with video cameras costing two or three times more. They perform brilliantly in natural light, and the range of lenses you can get give a beautiful look with a narrow depth of field. For a minimal investment (in film terms) you can put together a rig that will provide you with gorgeous, painterly images.

Simon’s work with the Canon 7D is showing real flair and imagination. His latest short, Stakeout, is a prime showcase for his abilities. In conjunction with long-time acting and writing partner Benjamin Green, we have a terse little tale of double-cross and betrayal. Stakeout was shot using only available light – the kind of challenge that most DOPs would walk away from. Simon not only proves that it’s possible, but that the results can be gorgeous.

The Fighter, his first tryout with the 7D, was even more of a challenge. A showreel piece for actress Elizabeth Knight, this too was shot without any extra lights and a single zoom lens. The results are striking. I love the way the focus drops off in the background. Killer bokeh, which you’d struggle to get with a much more expensive rig.

Finally, it would be remiss of me if I didn’t mention the first project Simon and I worked on together. Monologue Triptych is a linked series of films based around the idea of confession and reconciliation. Ben Green stars again, and the witty, moving scripts are written by Ben Woodiwiss, with whom Simon would reunite for Blood And Roses.

I’ve chosen to highlight the last film in the sequence, Tercero, as it’s the one of which I’m most proud as a colourist. The films can be viewed in any order, but taken together they are a devastating portrait of a man who has cheerfully ruined his life, and now struggles to come to terms with all that he has lost.

A story to finish with. The screening of Monologue Triptych was a packed room. But it was marred by a projector fault for the first thirty seconds. Hence, just after Simon had specifically singled me out for my hard work on the film, the opening titles came up with an acidic green cast. I nearly sank through the floor, convinced that I’d somehow messed up. Apparently you could hear me whimpering for the rest of the show. (Simon adds: as far away as the projection room!)

Not my proudest moment.

You can see all of the Monologue Triptych films at Simon’s Vimeo page, alongside some of his other work. Please do watch and enjoy the work of a very talented gent.

Getting A Rise: Why X&HT Didn’t See Rise Of The Planet Of The Apes

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I was going to see it. Really, I was. I had the day all mapped out. Chores in the morning, then an amble into town to catch an early afternoon screening. I was quite looking forward to it.

But as the day wore on, my enthusiasm began to dwindle. By the time I got the doors of the Reading Vue, all I could manage was the feeling that there really were better things that I could do with my time. So I went into the Hobgoblin on Broad Street, and over a pint of Mr. Chubb’s Lunchtime Bitter, mused on the reasons why I’d suddenly lost all interest.

First of all, I considered, taking a sip while settling into a cosy snug at the back of the pub, Rise is a blatant attempt at starting a new franchise. Fox have of course been left without a cash cow as the Harry Potter films have finally finished, and have to be hunting around for a new series to start taking up the shortfall. Now, in my exceedingly humble opinion, franchises have turned the summer blockbuster market into an artistic void. Sequelitis has infected Hollywood like a bad case of knobrot, and the movies coming out of that policy are about as palatable. With 32 movies in the next year either based on existing properties, or reboots and remakes, the marketplace is choking on old fumes. Why should I encourage that behaviour? While I accept that my approach to these films is akin to The Pirate Code, I try to steer clear of them. There are many other better films out there that deserve my patronage.

One of them, I mused while enjoying the bright, hoppy fizz of the Lunchtime Bitter on my tongue, is the original Planet Of The Apes. A masterpiece of clever social commentary and solid storytelling, with one of the all-time killer twists. It spawned a raft of sequels, of course. All of which told the story of the fall and rise of apedom in a twisty, timeloopy fashion that made sense and, more importantly, ended in a satisfying way. Hence my concern about a new Ape franchise. The original films pretty much invented the concept in the form that modern audiences would understand, so in some ways it’s natural for Fox to glom onto the property as a moneyspinner. But the new story adds nothing to the canon. Which means, to my mind that there’s a good chance that any sequels will forge a different path. One that leads straight back to the Tim Burton version of events, and the monkey statue in Washington. Now, I could be wrong, but I’d rather not take the risk of encouraging that kind of behaviour.

Speaking of which, I reflected as I tilted the last mouthful of Lunchtime to my lips, it’s about time we stopped enabling Andy Serkis. Now, I mean this in a good way. He is a fine, thoughtful and innovative actor. But he’s been stereotyped. It used to be that when Hollywood needed a clever monkey, they went to effects wizard Rick Baker. Now, it’s all Andy Serkis crawling around a capture volume in a leotard covered in ping-pong balls. To all the smartypants yelling about Lord Of The Rings, I will simply respond with this algorithm: Gollum = shaved orang-utan.

Andy deserves better than this, Readership. It’s disrespectful of his art and talent. A boycott of his mo-cap monkeying is, I feel a harsh but fair measure. I’d rather see the man than a digitised performance any day.

I stepped out of the Hobgob into sunshine, the beer warm in my belly. A walk home along the Kennet beckoned, with perhaps a little visit to a book shop on the way. That somehow seemed like a much more pleasurable way to spend the day.

I love movies as much as anyone. But sometimes a pint of good English beer and a book are all you need to make your day.

A New Phase

This landed in my Gmail today, with no further commentary.

What are we to make of this, Readership? Can it be that the years-in-the-making docoBANKSY has finally reached the point of completion?

What we seem to have here is a scan of a new sticker design, different to the Di-faced tenners that have been popping up worldwide for the past couple of years. This has to mark a new phase in the project.

Perhaps at last that damned elusive docoB has decided to share his vision with the world. As with everything that comes out of his SEKRIT lair, we will just have to wait and see. But I recommend you keep an eye open for the new stickers. I have a feeling we’ll be seeing a lot of them very soon….

The Warrior’s Code: X&HT Watched Captain America: The First Avenger

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Give me a tweaked uniform over spandex any day...

Captain America: The First Avenger is not a superhero film. There, I said it. Oh sure, it’s got a superhero in it, and a supervillain, and a lot of the trappings and furniture of your average cape film. But what we have here is more akin to the legend of America’s most decorated soldier, Audie Murphy.

Like Steve Rogers, Murphy struggled to get enlisted, a puny, underaged dweeb who just wanted to serve. But heart, soul and tenacity succeed where all else failed, and Murphy would eventually go on to fight throughout Europe, winning the Medal of Honour, Legion of merit and the French Legion of Honour along the way. He went on to be a film star, musician and advocate of veteran’s rights – a true American hero whose image was used extensively in the post-war years as a positive national self-image.

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Captain America? This guy was a MAJOR.

 

Steve Rogers is a lot like Murphy. Fearless, determined to serve, always conscious of the need to do the right thing in the face of overwhelming evil. He gets the superserum and (eventually) the suit, but he gets them because of who he is on the inside. It’s a fairly typical wish-fulfillment strategy, based on the old saw that you can get what you want as long as you want it badly enough, but it works in this context. In a way, he has Murphy’s career backwards. Captain America is a propaganda asset long before he gets a chance to fight.

To reiterate, I look on Captan America as a pulpy war movie with SF trimmings rather than your bog-standard superhero joint. Director Joe Johnston understands this kind of material well. He helmed “The Rocketeer”, after all, still one of my favourite movies. He brings the same design flair and sense of fun to Captain America. It’s a good looking film, with a good-looking cast that understands the light touch required to make period SF work. Chris Evans fills the uniform out nicely, Hayley Atwell shines as the kind of glamourous Girl Friday that Cap would come to depend on in the 60’s, Tommy Lee Jones is a delight as the gruff-but-fair colonel in charge of the missions. Hugo Weaving was really the only choice as the Red Skull. Even under a thickness of makeup that would make Julia Roberts blanch, his villain skills shine through.

It’s a shame then, that even though Johnston has said in interviews that Captain America would be the stand-alone piece in the jigsaw of Marvel films that will piece together to form next year’s Avengers movie, the ending hauls it into line. Up to that point, the film had stood on it’s own two feet. You didn’t need to know who Howard Stark would sire, or where the cube came from that gave the Skull’s infernal devices their power. They were Easter eggs for the fans, but didn’t spoil the flow. The last five minutes, in which Steve is brought brutally up to date, are clangingly out of place with the tone and feel of the rest of the film. It was the kind of scene that would have been better suited to a post-credit vignette. It’s a real shame, because up to then I had really enjoyed the ride.

There’s a lot to enjoy in Captain America: The First Avenger. It’s pretty, funny and sharp. Good, pulpy fun with enough to keep both the fans and the non-comic reader happy. The ending aside, it’s a great summer movie.

Whatever Happened To The World Of Tomorrow?

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A short Twitter conversation the other night about Richard Hammond’s tv show Journey to The Centre Of The Planet had me musing on the state of science programming. It’s not great, to be blunt. Hammond’s show was damned by knowledgeable observers like X&HTeam-mate MadameWDW…

She echoed the consensus.

Science shows seem to fall into camps nowadays. You have the big specials, filled with expensive CGI and hosted by a housewives’ favourite, full of sound and fury and very little content. I’d roll the James May show where he plays with oversized Lego into this camp, too. You have shows like Spring/Autumnwatch, cosy and cute, slipping in odd bits of science amidst all the cute wittle chickywickies and a disturbingly gleeful focus on hedgehog poo.

Then you have Bang Goes The Theory, a more polite version of Discovery’s Mythbusters and a direct descendent of Hammond-hosted shows like Blast Lab and Brainiac. You could maybe parse two minutes of interest out of these shows. They’re light entertainment disguised with a white coat and protective goggles. Not that I have a problem with blowing things up on camera in the name of science, but the shows are painfully thin on actual content. Finally, god help us, the hipster Top Gear that is The Gadget Show. It’s thin gruel, but on occasion rolls out an innovation or two amidst the endless competitions and tests of the top five waterproof cameras.

There’s a hole in the schedule.

I mourn, Readership, for a memory. I mourn for a show that combined raffish charm with excitement and enthusiasm for the science of the day. I mourn for a show forged in the era of the white heat of technology, that is ever more needed in this most sciencefictional of centuries.

I miss Tomorrow’s World.

In the 60s, 70s and 80s, TW had the sort of sway, impact and viewership that was only topped by shows like Top Of The Pops. It was slick and glamourous, and not afraid to talk to it’s audience like grown-ups. It was wide-ranging, yet capable of bringing depth and focus to a subject when it was needed. It roamed the world, from the science parks and boffins of rural England to the rocket jockeys of the California deserts. In William Woollard it had a genuine, frequently shirtless sex symbol. In Raymond Baxter, a Chairman Of The Board, a smooth-talking master at the tricky job of making science approachable. You never felt you were being talked down to. Tomorrow’s World was pacy, newsy and in the right place at the right time. It was at the forefront of the computer boom of the early eighties, showed us the first home video cameras and recorders, and was all over the launch of the shuttle Enterprise. As Atlantis touched down for the last time, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge that the Tomorrow’s World team weren’t there to welcome it home.

As science becomes increasingly under threat from swivel-eyed fundamentalists and swingeing budget cuts, I think the time is right for a revival. A weekly science-based magazine show would be a great way to spark interest in the field. We need the legacy of Baxter, Woollard, Michael Rodd and the others more than ever. Let’s celebrate the world of tomorrow, with a show that will give us up-to-the-minute updates in the fast-moving field of science and technology. Boing Boing TV, anyone?

(Speaking of Boing Boing, they’ve posted some background to the picture that heads up this post. Short version: the lady, Jane Root, was a test subject into early prenatal gender screening in the 1950s. She’s just been told she’s having a girl.

I suggest that you show that picture to the next person that tries to tell you that science is a soul-less, uncaring endeavour, and then tell them to go gruff in a hat. I love this picture. And I fucking LOVE science.)

In The Cloud: iOS And The New Wave Of Mobile Computing

I try to keep the fanboi squeee regarding Apple and their products to a minimum here on X&HT. I use them almost exclusively, but in the past I’ve been … evangelistic about them. To the point of heated argument, which is downright silly. I’d like to think I’ve mellowed over time, and spent a year tinkering with Linux on my netbook. Advisory before I begin, therefore: other computing platforms are available.

Continue reading In The Cloud: iOS And The New Wave Of Mobile Computing

Cut: Censorship,The BBFC and Human Centipede 2

In a move that’s boggled the minds of UK horror fans, the BBFC have refused to certificate the sequel to Tom Six’s The Human Centipede, Human Centipede 2: Full Sequence. 2009’s Jap horror Grotesque was the last film to join this rarified club of films too awful for the sensitive British public to see.

Continue reading Cut: Censorship,The BBFC and Human Centipede 2

Who Rules? Who Rules!

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Ah, Saturday night telly. Safe, secure home of talent show, hospital drama, old film. And of course, also the place to go for head-mangling, multi-level, wildly self-referential and furiously uncompromising science fiction.

That would be Doctor Who, which always stuck out of the Saturday night schedules like a Sontaran at the dinner table. Gleefully absurd, cheap and cheerful, dark at heart yet always somehow comforting. Effects straight out of the Blue Peter school of sticky-back plastic. Acting straight out of regional theatre.

Yeah. Not any more. Not for a long time. Under Russell T. Davis and more recently Stephen Moffat, Doctor Who is now the best-looking, best acted show on the box, and one of the most contradictory. Ostensibly still a kid’s programme, at least when you look at the extensive BBC website and all the associated mercy, Doctor Who is at the same time deeply complex and terrifyingly adult. It not only refuses to talk down to it’s audience, but launches off in all directions at once and dares the viewer to keep up.

This season, Moffat’s second as show-runner, has been made with money from BBC America, and was supposed to be the moment when the show would break in the States. You would expect, then, a couple of episodes in which a new audience could be eased gently into the story. Something entry-level, with a decent dose of explanation about who the guy in the blue box that’s bigger on the outside than the inside is.

Nope. Sorry. Within ten minutes of the opening titles, the Doctor had been killed, and then reappeared as a version from an earlier timeline. There was something about Scream-faced monsters that you forgot about as soon as you looked away from them. And where the hell did the red-headed broad from E.R. come from? Also, when the heck did the show with the monsters made out of bubble wrap get so goddamn scary?

Since the reboot, Doctor Who has been in the hands of writers who not only get the Doctor and all his dichotomies, but were responsible for keeping the flame lit during the wilderness years. The Paul McGann TV movie aside, the period between the end of Sylvester McCoy’s time in the Tardis and Christopher Eccleston shrugging on the leather jacket was one of furious invention and true high concept adventure. In books, audio and comics, writers like Davis, Moffat and Paul Cornell could carve out stories that didn’t have to be concerned with budget or kid-friendly attitude. They could bring a Doctor to life that had rarely been seen in the shows, a Doctor filled with moral ambiguity, a Machiavellian manipulator. More importantly, a Doctor that instils fear. The Doctor that can turn armies around at the very mention of his name came out of this free and fertile period.

Today’s Doctor Who is a very different programme to the one I grew up with, the one that scared me behind the sofa for two seasons running. The pace, of course, has sharpened, as stories are fitted into forty-five minute slots instead of the two-hour four parter format. Although it’s good to see more two-part cliffhangers, giving the characters a little more room to breathe. It’s also more overtly scary, as Moffat creates adversaries designed to exploit our all too human weaknesses, the flaws in our perception of the world. Creatures that attack in a blink, or hide in the shadows.

And all of a sudden, more adult fears are also being exploited. Constant, unexplained surveillance. The doppelganger, the enemy with your face. Or the terror of a mother losing her child. All tied into a narrative that has no problems with skipping hundreds of years and light years in a single jump cut. It’s epic, demanding and yes, exhausting work. To be honest, I tend to watch the show on catchup, when I feel ready for it. That also gives me the rewind option for those reel “huh?” moments.

But Moffat’s refusal to compromise hasn’t lost him viewers. Considering what else is on around the same time, it’s not a surprise that anyone with the taste for big, brash but thoughtful action would be all over this show. I have niggles with the way the show has so tightly interwoven with it’s backstory, but these are only niggles. Doctor Who is far and away the best thing on British telly at the moment. It’s fearless, tough and when it hits the big notes, a sheer and utter joy. It lures high end names and the best writers in the business. When I realised it was going on break until the autumn, I yelled in disbelief. Although the big reveal wasn’t that huge a surprise, it’s wonderful to finally have River Song’s place set in stone. And with these six episodes, the set up for something extraordinary to come rolling out of the gates in September is well and truly in place.

Now all I need is one of those damned time machines so I can see those episodes now!