It's the tenth anniversary of this beloved yuletide classic.
There I am at my favorite watering hole, talking with the staff, when the subject of Christmas movies is raised.
First suggestion, not made by me: the traditional double-bill of Die Hard and Die Hard II: Die Harder.
Thus giving me the tenor of the conversation. This is not the time, perhaps, to mention Remember the Night and Holiday Affair,
two overlooked films (with noir connections!) that Turner Classic
Movies has labored to turn into Yuletide staples. Although a mention of Blast of Silence, full of Wenceslas wetwork, might not be out of the question.
So I lobby for my own Christmas favorite, The Ref. And then observe, not for the first time, that the entire oeuvre of Shane Black – Lethal Weapon, The Last Boy Scout, The Long Kiss Goodnight, and Kiss Kiss Bang Bang – is set at the most wonderful time of the year. (Editor’s note, 2013: You can now add IRON MAN 3 to that roster. Editor’s note, 2016: And THE NICE GUYS. The Christmas trees are there if you look. Editor’s note, 2019: The streak comes to an end with Black’s 2018 film THE PREDATOR, which is set at Halloween. It was fun while it lasted.)
Therefore,
as you venture out for that last round of shopping, I offer, by popular
demand, what has become a VKDC tradition. (“By popular demand” meaning
Rosemarie asked, “Why haven’t you posted this yet?” And she did write
most of it.) Here, once again, is Shane Black’s 12 Days of Christmas.
Record your church group performing this and we’ll post the video here!
Twelve cars exploding Eleven extras running Ten tankers skidding Nine strippers pole-ing Eight Uzis firing Seven henchmen scowling Six choppers crashing
Five silver Glocks
Four ticking bombs Three hand grenades Two mortar shells And a suitcase full of C-4
Lot of ground to cover here. I should probably point out that the eBook of the third Lillian Frost and Edith Head mystery Script for Scandal—written by the missus and myself under our pen name Renee Patrick—is available everywhere, with the print edition for sale in the U.K. now and coming to the U.S. on January 7, 2020. Hey, the reviews are good.
Next, the latest issue of Noir City is on the loose. The big news is behind the scenes. It’s Eddie Muller’s last edition of the magazine as Editor-in-Chief. He’s staying on as Publisher—the Film Noir Foundation is his baby, after all—but handing over the E-i-C reins to yours truly. It was a relatively bloodless transfer of power, no matter what Eddie says.
The Czar and I are cooking up big plans for 2020. In the meantime, the current issue is a gem. Steve Kronenberg on the tragic life of Gene Tierney. Ray Banks on officers behaving badly in Ealing’s postwar crime films. Sharon Knolle surveys the cinema of Grahame Greene. Danilo Castro on Paul Schrader’s quartet of night workers. Jake Hinkson on booze and blackouts in noir.
I provide the chaser to Jake’s piece, bellying up to The Lost Weekend and asking the timeless question: Noir or Not? I also provide a pair of book reviews, contribute to Noir City’s coverage of the Seattle International Film Festival, and serve up maybe my favorite drink to date in my Cocktails & Crime column. (BONUS: my interview with author and podcaster Karina Longworth from last issue is on the FNF website.)
How much for this bounty, you damn well better be asking? A donation of twenty dollars or more to the Film Noir Foundation’s efforts to keep shadows flickering on screens everywhere is all it takes. What, you’re still here? Get donating!
My primary contribution this go-round is an interview with Karina Longworth, host of the acclaimed You Must Remember This podcast, which casts a gimlet eye on movie history. We had a wide-ranging conversation prompted by her new book Seduction: Sex, Lies and Stardom in Howard Hughes’s Hollywood, which in the words of FNF honcho Eddie Muller “offers a fresh and provocative slant on the eccentric billionaire and some surprising new information about some of the talented people in his life.”
Also in this issue is my look at Automata, the retro-noir web series (and possible TV series) spun off from a popular web comic. Plus my book and DVD reviews, as well as my usual Cocktails & Crime column featuring a round-up of the latest noir news.
Headlining the issue is a suite of articles about Tinseltown true crime: Alan K. Rode on how gangsters took over the studio unions (a subject that, rumor has it, may factor into the new novel from author Renee Patrick) and John Wranovics on gangster Johnny Rosselli’s short-lived stint as a moviemaking mogul. Plus my friend Brian Light’s reminiscences on collecting film noir posters, Ben Terrall’s appraisal of the career of novelist and screenwriter Jonathan Latimer, and so much more.
Interested? Of course you are. Swing on by the FNF website, make your donation, and have the issue sent to you.
That thump you heard in in-boxes just before Thanksgiving was the latest issue of Noir City, house rag of the Film Noir Foundation. The focus this time around is on international noir, to wit—
Imogen Sara Smith on the long history of Mexican noir; Jake Hinkson on the heartbreaking crime dramas of Japan’s Yoshitarô Nomura (stream these wonders on FilmStruck before the service goes dark for good this week); the redoubtable Ray Banks takes on the villainous roles of Patrick McGoohan; Ehsan Khoshbakht on Iranian genre films; Nathalie Atkinson on the premier Canadian noir The Silent Partner; and more.
On the domestic front, we’ve got a killer 5 Favorites essay from comic book legend Jim Steranko; a look at the twinned noir careers of John Huston and Orson Welles by Brian J. Robb along with a review of their last collaboration The Other Side of the Wind from FNF honcho Eddie Muller himself; and, once again, more.
As for my humble efforts, I spoke to both Lawrence Block and artist John K. Snyder III about the recent adaptation of Larry’s landmark Matt Scudder mystery Eight Million Ways to Die into a graphic novel, bringing 1980s New York to raw, vivid life in a whole new way. Plus a pair of book reviews and my Cocktails & Crime column.
You know the drill, kids: donate to the Film Noir Foundation and have all this goodness delivered direct to you. Don’t miss out. Because the next issue? That’s one gonna be even better.
The cover story of the latest issue of the Film Noir Foundation’s magazine is a certifiable corker. Back in April, the FNF bestowed its second Modern Master Award on novelist James Ellroy in advance of a screening of the Oscar-winning masterpiece based on his novel L.A. Confidential. Included in the magazine is a transcript of his wild, jaw-dropping conversation with FNF honcho and master of ceremonies Eddie Muller. Trust me, you’re going to want to read this one.
ASIDE: don’t sleep on the latest work from the recipient of the inaugural Modern Master Award, director Stephen Frears. A Very English Scandal, written by Doctor Who’s Russell T. Davies and boasting sterling work from Ben Whishaw and a career-best Hugh Grant, is now streaming on Amazon Prime. Frears is still throwing heat at age 77. That’s the kind of person we honor at the FNF.
Elsewhere this issue, we’ve got the redoubtable Ray Banks on Britain’s first neo-noir Nowhere to Go (starring Maggie Smith!); Eddie Muller on the silent Japanese proto-noir Policeman (1933); an appraisal of forgotten Swedish master Hasse Ekman by Imogen Sara Smith; Farran Smith Nehme in conversation with Michael Curtiz biographer and Noir City stalwart Alan K. Rode; Jake Hinkson with some summer reading on the beach in noir; and much more.
Still, I know what you’re thinking. What about you, Vince? What did you do this time around?
I’ve got a feature on Baby Monkey, Private Eye, a gorgeous first reader for children written by Brian Selznick—whose previous books have been turned into films by Martin Scorsese and Todd Haynes—and David Serlin. My conversation with these two gentlemen was an absolute joy, and I hope some of the fun comes across in the article.
Plus I’ve contributed a troika of book reviews—on Thomas Doherty’s essential work of scholarship Show Trial: Hollywood, HUAC, and the Birth of the Blacklist; J. E. Smyth’s eye-opening Nobody’s Girl Friday: The Women Who Ran Hollywood (Edith Head warrants her own chapter, natch); and a newly annotated edition of Chandler’s The Big Sleep—plus hot-off-the-presses hot takes on films from the Seattle International Film Festival including one of the year’s best movies, Denmark’s The Guilty. This installment of my Cocktails & Crime column includes an interview with Abigail Gullo, who’s put her acclaimed bartending skills to work creating a drink named for Joan Crawford’s crowning achievement Mildred Pierce.
The latest issue of Noir City, the house rag of the Film Noir Foundation, went out to subscribers yesterday. I say as humbly as possible that it’s our best to date, boasting a broad range of subjects and contributors. I’ll double down on my candor: if you don’t like this installment of the magazine, address your complaints to me, because my fingerprints are all over it. And I’m proud of the result.
We didn’t plan for this to be our blonde issue. That’s just how it worked out, with a troika of fair-haired silver screen goddesses for you to (re)consider. Jake Hinkson kicks things off with our cover story on the noir films of Marilyn Monroe. Ray Banks follows up with a heartbreaker on Diana Dors. Then I (sort of) get into the act, interviewing Paul McGuigan, the filmmaker behind the BAFTA-nominated drama Film Stars Don’t Die in Liverpool about the sad final days of noir favorite Gloria Grahame.
Excuse me while I rant a moment, but I’ve got to get this off my chest: the botched release of Film Stars is the great cinematic crime of 2017. Annette Bening is transcendent as Gloria Grahame, giving hands down my favorite performance of the year. She’s perfectly paired with Jamie Bell as her much younger paramour Peter Turner, whose memoir provides the basis for the film. I loathe when movies are judged solely through the narrow lens of Academy Awards viability. But when a studio publicly declares an Oscar to be its goal and then can’t even make a worthy turn part of the conversation, well … someone screwed up. Probably multiple someones. Still, Bening’s work remains, to be discovered by audiences in due time. Years from now, people will marvel that her quicksilver brilliance paying tribute to another great actress went largely unrecognized at the time—except, of course, in the pages of Noir City.
Also in this issue: my interview with Laura Lippman, whose latest novel Sunburn is pure noir. Plus FNF founder Eddie Muller on the undiminished power of Steve De Jarnatt’s newly relevant Miracle Mile—and a bonus 5 Favorites from De Jarnatt himself. Then there’s Nathalie Atkinson on Agatha Christie for a new millennium; one legendary cartoonist (Trina Robbins) saluting another in Tarpé Mills; a look at the noir roots of Blade Runner and its sequel; profiles of filmmakers Vincent Sherman and the husband-and-wife team of Andrew and Virginia Stone; plus reviews, news, and my Cocktails & Crime column. All of it beautifully assembled by ace designer Michael Kronenberg.
This year’s installment of Noir City Seattle just wrapped up. I usually write detailed play-by-play of the festival, but considering that Rosemarie and I—in the guise of Renee Patrick—had a bigger than usual role in the proceedings this time around, I decided to let Renee handle recap duties as well. Read it here.
It just wouldn’t be Christmas without this post from December 2009.
There I am at my favorite watering hole, talking with the staff, when the subject of Christmas movies is raised.
First suggestion, not made by me: the traditional double-bill of Die Hard and Die Hard II: Die Harder.
Thus giving me the tenor of the conversation. This is not the time, perhaps, to mention Remember the Night and Holiday Affair,
two overlooked films (with noir connections!) that Turner Classic
Movies has labored to turn into Yuletide staples. Although a mention of Blast of Silence, full of Wenceslas wetwork, might not be out of the question.
So I lobby for my own Christmas favorite, The Ref. And then observe, not for the first time, that the entire oeuvre of Shane Black – Lethal Weapon, The Last Boy Scout, The Long Kiss Goodnight, and Kiss Kiss Bang Bang – is set at the most wonderful time of the year. (Editor's note, 2013: You can now add IRON MAN 3 to that roster. Editor’s note, 2016: And THE NICE GUYS. The Christmas trees are there if you look.)
Therefore,
as you venture out for that last round of shopping, I offer, by popular
demand, what has become a VKDC tradition. (“By popular demand” meaning
Rosemarie asked, “Why haven’t you posted this yet?” And she did write
most of it.) Here, once again, is Shane Black’s 12 Days of Christmas.
Record your church group performing this and we’ll post the video here!
Twelve cars exploding Eleven extras running Ten tankers skidding Nine strippers pole-ing Eight Uzis firing Seven henchmen scowling Six choppers crashing
Five silver Glocks
Four ticking bombs Three hand grenades Two mortar shells And a suitcase full of C-4
Two posts in a month? Something big must be happening.
And it is. Renee Patrick returns to Turner Classic Movies. Tune in this Sunday, October 29, as Rosemarie and I once again join our friend Eddie Muller on his show Noir Alley. Gaze upon us in spellbound wonder as we talk about the extraordinary career of Edith Head both before and after one of her films, 1946’s The Strange Love of Martha Ivers. Edith dressing not one but two red hot stone cold femmes fatale in Barbara Stanwyck and Lizabeth Scott, Kirk Douglas making his big-screen debut, and stories galore. That’s Sunday, October 29, at 10 am EST / 7 am PST.
A note on recording the show, especially if you’re on the West Coast. Strange Love runs 116 minutes. (Lots of twists.) Right now TCM has it in a two-hour time slot, so if you record that you’ll likely get the introduction but not the (shocking!) end of the film or the outro, where we dish about Edith some more. So you might want to set that DVR for an extra 15 minutes or so, just to be safe.
But that’s not all. While we were attending Bouchercon in Toronto, we had the pleasure of appearing on one of our favorite podcasts, Writer Types hosted by Eric Beetner and S.W. Lauden. It’s a jam-packed affair that includes friends like Bill Crider and our fellow Anthony Award nominees Bill Beverly, Art Taylor, and Jim Ziskin. Give a listen.
Back from an eventful trip to Bouchercon in Toronto, where Renee Patrick’s debut novel Design for Dying was nominated for both the Anthony and Macavity Awards. (Spoiler alert: we didn’t win.) My co-alter ego Renee posted photos.
While Rosemarie and I were abroad, the latest issue of Noir City, house rag of the Film Noir Foundation, dropped. Many in our stellar stable of contributors pull double duty for your edification—
Imogen Sara Smith cover stories Jean-Pierre Melville’s centenary and appraises a long-thought-lost silent Polish noir;
Jake Hinkson sizes up Georges Simenon as the ultimate noir scribe and offers a timely reconsideration of the rise of homegrown American fascism in All the King’s Men;
Sean Axmaker makes the case for both Peter Gunn as “the great small-screen incarnation of film noir” and the yuletide mayhem of The Ice Harvest as his favorite neo-noir.
What about me, you ask? Aren’t you kind to keep me in your thoughts. My column Cocktails & Crime is here, naturally, and Sean Axmaker and I tag-team the recent Seattle International Film Festival. But mainly I’m flexing my editorial muscle this time around, taking full credit for bringing you Ray Banks’ compelling overview of 1950s U.K. noir films that deal with racism, and Nathalie Atkinson’s look at Hard Case Crime’s foray into the world of comics.
Plus there’s Alan K. Rode on the Hollywood odyssey of writer Frank Fenton; Steve Kronenberg on the tragic tale of Linda Darnell; Brian Light on Vertigo, the book and the film; and much more. Honestly, it’s an embarrassment of riches, is what it is.
First, an extra extra for you—hang on, is that right amount of extras? OK, yeah, it is. Rosemarie and I are very happy to be the guests on the new episode of Noir Talk, the podcast dedicated to the Film Noir Foundation’s efforts and hosted by Haggai Elitzur. We talk about the Noir City film festivals, how issues of the magazine are assembled, and the Foundation’s role in inspiring the work of our mystery fiction-writing alter ego Renee Patrick. Tune in here.
Speaking of Noir City the magazine, the latest issue of the FNF’s house rag is out this week, boasting a glorious new layout courtesy of ace designer Michael Kronenberg and bursting with top-notch material. A sampling of the treasures contained therein—
Sharon Knolle’s cover story on psychiatrists as heavies onscreen and off in Hollywood;
FNF honcho and TCM host Eddie Muller on Tod Browning’s crime drama Outside the Law, which just wowed audiences at the San Francisco Silent Film Festival;
A double dose of Noir City mainstay Jake Hinkson, with a look back at Bruce Springsteen’s bruising masterpiece Nebraska and a consideration of Elisabeth Sanxay Holding’s peerless domestic noir The Blank Wall and its two screen incarnations (The Reckless Moment and The Deep End);
A survey of Donald E. Westlake films by Ben Terrall, perfectly paired with novelist Danny Gardner’s appreciation of his favorite neo-noir, the Westlake-as-Richard-Stark-based The Outfit.
Plus we welcome back Noir City Sentinel scribe Eric Beetner with his new column The Dark Page. This look at noir fiction kicks off with an interview with the one and only Bill Crider. We also add whip-smart film writer Nathalie Atkinson to our roster of critics. And like all good meals there’s a sweet treat at the end in the form of a new book review from our ol’ pal Ray Banks.
Yes, I’m in it, too, with my usual Cocktails & Crime column. I also get in on the Westlake lovefest by recounting a favorite production story in our On The Set feature, spotlighting Point Blank.
How, you may ask, do I acquire such treasures for my own edification? Simply make a contribution to the Film Noir Foundation and all this, and more, can be yours!
I’ve trumpeted this news on both my social media feed and my alter ego’s, and I sing it here from the rooftops. Because it is, in my world, a pretty big deal.
Renee Patrick is going to be on Turner Classic Movies. This Sunday, June 11, to be precise.
Rosemarie and I will be the guests of our friend and Film Noir Foundation cohort Eddie Muller on his TCM show Noir Alley. Eddie will be showing the brilliant 1944 film Phantom Lady, directed by Robert Siodmak from the novel by Cornell Woolrich. This one packs a wallop, full of astounding visuals and one did-I-just-see-that? scene after another. It’s worth getting up for. As a bonus, you get me and the missus, talking about the essential role costume design plays in the story as well as the real-life Tinseltown mystery connected to the film.
The fun begins Sunday, June 11, at 10:00 am Eastern, 7:00 am Pacific. So set the alarm or the DVR and get in on the action.
And if you can’t wait that long to see us, last month we appeared on Book Lust with Nancy Pearl. It was a pleasure to sit down with Nancy—librarian, NPR mainstay, and novelist—and talk about how Rosemarie and I got into the Renee Patrick business. As of today, our episode of Book Lust is available on YouTube and is presented here for your delectation.
Hang on, let me blow the dust off the—there we go. That’s better.
Things have been hectic lately, what with the launch of the second Lillian Frost & Edith Head novel from Renee Patrick Dangerous to Know. My co-alter ego has the scoop, and believe me when I say there’s more in the works. All kinds of fun and games are coming, including a few things I can’t believe. I’m popping in amidst the promo push to recommend a few items for your delectation.
Under the Midnight Sun, Keigo Higashino (2016). Here’s how busy it’s been: a new Chinese adaptation of Higashino’s The Devotion of Suspect X—easily my favorite mystery novel of the past 20 years—was playing two blocks for me and I missed my chance to see it. Higashino’s latest is also his most ambitious, at least of the novels that have been published in the United States. It’s a sprawling crime story-cum-social novel, spanning decades and touching on, among other things, the growth of the Japanese computer industry. In 1973, a man is murdered and a woman identified as the likely killer. Each has a child. Higashino tracks this pair through the years, but never as the viewpoint characters. Instead, they’re at a remove, always seen through the prism of others who fall into their orbits. It’s a daring structural choice that for the most part deepens the intrigue. As is so often the case with Higashino, any reservations are swept away by a climax at once elegant and charged with emotion. It’s not Suspect X, but then nothing is.
Five Came Back, Netflix. I raved about Mark Harris’s book, which cast a clear eye on a long-overlooked piece of Hollywood history. The three-part documentary based on it has the added advantage of film clips, and pairs contemporary filmmakers with some surprisingly simpatico predecessors (Guillermo del Toro and Frank Capra make an inspired match) who walked away from their Hollywood careers during World War II to make propaganda films.
Cork Dork, Bianca Bosker (2017). I was occasionally frustrated, frequently spellbound, and always fascinated by this memoir from a reporter-turned-sommelier. I remain a cocktail fanatic, but this opened my eyes (and nose) to vino in a way few books have.
Brockmire, IFC. What threatened to be a one-joke character is the centerpiece of a soulful if deeply, deeply profane comedy, thanks to Hank Azaria’s performance and a low-rent atmosphere out of Slap Shot. Granted, it helps knowing that lifelong Mets fan Azaria based Jim Brockmire in part on the team’s original announcers, specifically Lindsey Nelson’s wardrobe and Bob Murphy’s cadences. Hearing him wax rhapsodic about rye whiskey in that home run call voice is all my worlds colliding. And pontifidrinking is real. Not that I’ve done it or anything.
It’s that time of year again, gang. The Seattle iteration of the Noir City film festival kicks off this evening at Capitol Hill’s Egyptian Theater. It’s the all-heist film edition. Seven straight days of double bills (with bonus matinees this holiday weekend!) equaling twenty, count ‘em, twenty capers. It all gets rolling tonight with a peerless pairing of The Asphalt Jungle and Criss Cross.
There’s so much to savor in this roster cooked up by Film Noir Foundation honcho and festival host Eddie Muller. My personal picks: Violent Saturday, in which pulp meets Douglas Sirk; my favorite movie of all time, the original The Taking of Pelham One Two Three, on the big screen at last; and El Aura, a film I’ve been touting for over ten years (and the subject of my first-ever Noir City contribution).
I’ll be living at the Egyptian for the next week—and possibly appearing on stage—so come on out and say hello. Live musical entertainment is on tap tonight and Saturday, as well. Given a battery of other commitments I won’t be doing daily recaps this year, but I’ll try to post updates as the fun unfurls.
One of the benefits of being on the masthead of Noir City, the magazine of the non-profit Film Noir Foundation, is pitching in on the planning. I’ve known about the all-TV issue, which went out to subscribers last weekend, for ages, and had my pick of subject matter. I could have cherry-picked a vintage series that provided a small screen home for the migrating talent responsible for the twisted cinematic crime dramas of the 1950s. Or I could have claimed the contemporary cable antihero of my choice. It’s good to be the king, or in this case the managing editor.
Instead I pitched the only story I wanted to write. Which is why the issue features a look back at HBO’s two Phil Lovecraft films. Cast a Deadly Spell (1991) somehow knew Raymond Chandler and H.P. Lovecraft were two great tastes that taste great together. The result is a sly salute to classic noir that’s also genuinely, consistently funny. The disappointing follow-up Witch Hunt (1994) is an object lesson in the powers that be preparing a sequel while not comprehending what makes the original work.
Joseph Dougherty wrote both films, and proved a funny and candid interview. An acclaimed playwright and TV hyphenate, he’s spent the past seven years working on Pretty Little Liars, which he describes as “mini-Hitchcock movies for teens.” Dougherty wrote and directed “Shadow Play,” a film noir-inspired episode that became a fan favorite. We did a second interview about that show, complete with the welcome news that PLL has introduced a new generation to classic cinema as well as Dougherty’s brilliant advice for penning dialogue for teenage girls: “think of them as a bomber crew in a Howard Hawks movie.”
I’ve also got my usual Cocktails & Crime column, plus reviews of a new Douglas Sirk/George Sanders Blu-ray set and Edward Sorel’s offbeat book Mary Astor’s Purple Diary, covered in the New York Times by some wet-behind-the-ears stringer named Woody Allen.
But I’m not the only person in this issue. You also get—
- A double dose of FNF honcho Eddie Muller, interviewing Warner Bros. Home Entertainment George Feltenstein and holding forth on the small screen-spawned Mulholland Dr.
- Cartoonist/illustrator Daniel Clowes’ one-of-a-kind list of his five favorite noir films
- Imogen Smith on the definitive noir TV show, The Fugitive
- Jazz aficionado supreme Brian Light’s appraisal of the offbeat Johnny Staccato
- Alan K. Rode charting the noir roots of Perry Mason
- Steve Kronenberg’s assessment of the noir episodes of The Twilight Zone and Thriller
- Danilo Castro’s remembrance of Fallen Angels, the ‘90s cable series that brought pulp to primetime
- Sharon Knolle on the recent bumper crop of noir on cable, including Quarry and Animal Kingdom
- Ben Terrall’s very personal history of the pulp origins of Shane Black’s The Nice Guys
Titles like the above irk the hell out of me. That’s the peril of PeakTV®: no matter how many hours you clock in front of your various screens, you know you’re missing something.
Unless you’re me, in which case you’re missing everything. I used to joke that watching TV was a skill set I didn’t possess. At some point in the last few years, it stopped being a gag. Television viewing became serious business—maybe the real business of America nowadays—and I lacked the chops for it. I also used to joke that when I could watch whatever I wanted whenever I wanted, I’d wallow like a pig in a trough. Came that very day and I couldn’t be bothered to waddle over from the sty.
Game of Thrones? Haven’t seen it. The Walking Dead? Not one episode. My televisual diet consists of baseball and old movies. I have the occasional spasm of sensibility—I flew through Stranger Things this summer, the show scratching an itch I didn’t know I had—but for the most part I bluff my way through conversations about TV. It’s actually not that hard to do.
That said, allow me to tell you about the best TV show you’re not watching.
I’d never heard of Count Arthur Strong when I queued up the first episode. I simply read a description of the show on Acorn TV, a streaming service that offers British television fare, saw that it was a comedy about an aging entertainer, and figured it was worth a look. (Savvy readers may be wondering why I, as someone who professes not to watch much TV, subscribes to such a service. My accountant has raised the very same question.)
What followed was the exact opposite of a binge. What followed was me doling the episodes out incrementally, not wanting them to end. Because Count Arthur Strong is without question one of the funniest shows I’ve ever seen. Discovering Count Arthur Strong was a rare high point in a dire year. If you have access to Acorn TV, which you might via Amazon Prime, you still have time before the bells toll the deserved demise of this annus horribilus to make the acquaintance of Count Arthur Strong yourself.
Count Arthur, honorific never explained, is the brainchild of writer/actor Steve Delaney. The Count is a bit player in his dotage now known for his “raconteuring,” a legend in his own mind whose greatest claim to fame is a brief partnership with a man who broke up the act to become a titan of English entertainment. The ex-partner dies and his hapless writer son (played by Rory Kinnear, best known to U.S. audiences as the prime minister in that episode of Black Mirror) is pressed to pen about a book about the old man, which sends him careering into the orbit of Count Arthur and his friends.
That’s it. That’s the show in its entirety, now at thirteen episodes and counting, every one of them packed with laughs. Delaney created Count Arthur in the 1980s and revived him for the Edinburgh Festival in the 1990s, where his popularity led to a radio series. He then teamed up with Graham Linehan (Father Tim) for the TV version, which combines their strong suits: Delaney’s genius at inhabiting a fully three-dimensional character, and Linehan’s flair for lampooning sitcoms while honoring their traditions. Kinnear sends the show deliriously over the top, the putative straight man every bit as mad as his partner. The six episodes of Season One form a nearly perfect whole, unified by the storyline of Kinnear’s dogged efforts to write the biography of the father he never knew and studded with moments of surprising emotional impact. Season Two is looser but frequently more hilarious, as in the episode that is a meticulously detailed send-up of Misery. I told my compadre Ray Banks about my love for Count Arthur. He welcomed me to the brotherhood and steered me toward the trove of Delaney’s radio broadcasts, which I am now again doling out gradually until Season Three crests on these shores.
It’s a few days late, but for a taste here’s Count Arthur Strong’s Christmas message.
While I’m at it, a few other lesser publicized shows I’ve enjoyed this year—
Occupied (Netflix). Created by crime novelist Jo Nesbø and brought to the screen by filmmaker Erik Skjoldbjǣrg (Insomnia), this political thriller details the slow-motion takeover of Norway by Russia in order to commandeer its energy resources. Over the summer I recommended it to people as preparation for the Trump administration, because I’m such a cut-up. Now I’d call it mandatory. Its daring structure, with each episode set in a subsequent month, means key plot business sometimes occurs offscreen and we only witness the fallout. It also makes it a potent exploration of normalization.
Difficult People (Hulu). We pay for Hulu solely to watch Billy Eichner and Julie Klausner say what we’re all thinking. The show that makes me miss living in New York City.
Red Oaks (Amazon). Of course I’m in the tank for a series set in the 1980s about a high school kid who dreams of being a filmmaker. Season One was so flawless I almost resented its return, but the sophomore year brought an abundance of pleasures beginning with a Paris-set premiere directed by Hal Hartley (who helmed the bulk of the episodes) that plays like an independent film. And every single music cue this season broke my fucking heart.
People of Earth (TBS). A comedy from Conan O’Brien and some of the Parks & Recreation team about a recovery group for alien abductees—though they prefer to be called “experiencers” because it gives them more agency—that’s funny, deeply human and astonishingly soulful.
A blast from the past. December 2009, to be exact.
There I am at my favorite watering hole, talking with the staff, when the subject of Christmas movies is raised.
First suggestion, not made by me: the traditional double-bill of Die Hard and Die Hard II: Die Harder.
Thus giving me the tenor of the conversation. This is not the time, perhaps, to mention Remember the Night and Holiday Affair,
two overlooked films (with noir connections!) that Turner Classic
Movies has labored to turn into Yuletide staples. Although a mention of Blast of Silence, full of Wenceslas wetwork, might not be out of the question.
So I lobby for my own Christmas favorite, The Ref. And then observe, not for the first time, that the entire oeuvre of Shane Black – Lethal Weapon, The Last Boy Scout, The Long Kiss Goodnight, and Kiss Kiss Bang Bang – is set at the most wonderful time of the year. (Editor's note, 2013: You can now add IRON MAN 3 to that roster. Editor’s note, 2016: And THE NICE GUYS. The Christmas trees are there if you look.)
Therefore,
as you venture out for that last round of shopping, I offer, by popular
demand, what has become a VKDC tradition. (“By popular demand” meaning
Rosemarie asked, “Why haven’t you posted this yet?” And she did write
most of it.) Here, once again, is Shane Black’s 12 Days of Christmas.
Record your church group performing this and we’ll post the video here!
Twelve cars exploding Eleven extras running Ten tankers skidding Nine strippers pole-ing Eight Uzis firing Seven henchmen scowling Six choppers crashing
Five silver Glocks
Four ticking bombs Three hand grenades Two mortar shells And a suitcase full of C-4
Several weeks early, I offer my New Year’s resolution for 2017: whenever I hear someone is making an enemies list, I’m gonna do what I can to be on it.
***
There’s still time to go, but it’s entirely possible the best movie I saw in a theater in 2016 will be ... the best movie I saw in a theater in 2015. Seattle’s Cinerama recently wrapped a 10-day run of Mad Max: Fury Road – The Black and Chrome Edition. What better time to revisit the apocalypse! George Miller called this black and white print “the best version” of his action extravaganza, a “more authentic and elemental” experience. I loved the film when I saw it last summer, but this viewing was indeed more intense and emotional. Monochrome is Tom Hardy’s friend, revealing new layers to his performance. Both versions will be available on Blu-ray next month, but I may put Fury Road in the rarified category of movie I only watch on a big screen.
***
One of the titles I picked up in the self-serve book room at Bouchercon in New Orleans was Blood Relations: The Selected Letters of Ellery Queen, edited by Joseph Goodrich. As one-half of Renee Patrick, I’m always interested in the working methods of other writing teams.
Rosemarie and I intend to remain married, so we’re not about to follow the lead of cousins Frederic Dannay and Manfred B. Lee. As Ellery Queen they wrote numerous novels and short stories about a detective also named Ellery Queen, with Dannay responsible for plotting duties and Lee handling the prose. It was a fraught system, each man resenting their interdependence and feeling unappreciated by the other. Their exchanges are charged with recriminations but also hugely instructive. One letter will offer a devastating critique of the work in progress, followed by an equally avid and airtight response. It’s bracing to read correspondence between partners who both have their reasons and are more than capable of defending them.
Here’s where I confess my ignorance of the Queen oeuvre. My experience was largely limited to the TV series from Columbo creators Richard Link and William Levinson, which incidentally is streaming on Hulu. Goodrich culls the letters in Blood Relations from what scholar Francis M. Nevins calls the “Third Period” of Queen, from 1942-58, when Ellery Queen the character was transformed from effete dandy to flesh-and-blood individual. I set out to read the books from Queen’s golden era even though the Dannay/Lee letters made me familiar with their twists and turns. I was curious; having peaked behind the curtain, could I still enjoy the show?
Ten Days’ Wonder (1948) is something of a chamber piece, one of the novels where Ellery retreats to the bucolic hamlet of Wrightsville. As such, it has a small cast of characters and for that reason I couldn’t shake the feeling that even coming to it fresh I would have sussed out the killer. The core idea still strikes me as a shade too intellectual. But the writing is soulful, seeking and finding a deepening of the character, and the mechanics of the final revelation are impressive. The next year’s Cat of Many Tails, in contrast, seemed even more thrilling knowing what tricks the boys had up their sleeves. The gripping tale of a serial killer terrorizing New York, it’s thick with mid-century atmosphere; when handing over his detailed outline, Dannay suggests Lee use the then-in-the-theaters The Naked City as a guide. The Cat’s method of selecting his victims is as diabolical now as it was nearly seventy years ago, the motive behind it every bit as chilling. The psychological explanations tend to be long-winded, understandable given when the book was written. But that gentility also makes the shock easier to take.
It was fascinating to approach a book when its gaff has been blown and look for the seams. Time to read some Ellery Queen where I don’t possess any of their secrets.
For
some reason I feel compelled to explain why this post exists. I’ll keep it
brief. A week before the election, I went cold turkey on Facebook and Twitter.
I realized that, like the rest of the country, I was going insane, and social
media was only accelerating the process. I was checking Twitter constantly for
updates and new polling numbers, mainlining everyone else’s fears and hopes at
the same time. Conversely, I’d stop by Facebook for a break from the news –
Post some photos of your damn cats! – only to get sucked back into the
maelstrom.
It
finally dawned on me that this was part of the problem.
Time
for a sabbatical. I still read the news, but in concentrated doses. (Do the
republic and yourself a favor: subscribe to a newspaper. Journalism is
important enough to pay for.) By election night I felt calmer, I was sleeping
better, and once out of the echo chamber I’d unintentionally built I was even
somewhat prepared for the eventual outcome. I also discovered I wasn’t in any
hurry to get back to my old habits.
I’ve
made some resolutions for the coming years. If anything I’m going to spend more
time in bars, because what we all need to do now is talk directly to friends
and strangers alike in a congenial atmosphere. Engagement must be the order of
the day. (Here’s a segment from WNYC’s The Leonard Lopate Show about the role
of the bar as community meeting place on Election Night, featuring the terrific
New York Times Magazine writer/bartender Rosie Schaap.)
And
I’m going to reduce my social media presence for my own peace of mind. Not
eliminate it; the pull’s too strong, and I know how essential it is for
promotion. (Did I mention that Rosie Schaap blurbed my book Down The Hatch?) While
I am going to scale back, I do still have an overwhelming urge to shoot my
mouth off. So I plan on posting here again – I’m aiming for once a week, maybe
Thursdays – with recommendations and updates. Why not start with how I spent
election night?
No
way was I watching returns on television. I gave up TV news, especially the
cable variety, a while ago. Instead I tracked the results online and entered
the brave new world in the company of Joel and Ethan Coen, who never let me
down. I rewatched a trio of their titles that seemed unusually apt, given the
circumstances.
Burn
After Reading (2008). I have irrational affection for what’s often viewed as a “lesser”
Coen film. When it came out, I glibly told people it was about how the United
States ended up going to war in Iraq. I never developed the theory in detail;
it just felt true to me. This was the Coen movie I thought of the most during
the election cycle. Pretty much every character is a self-absorbed idiot, by
turns entitled and aggrieved. Empathy ends at their fingertips. They obsess
over their own problems and assume the worst about everyone else. The only decent
person to be found lacks all conviction, and naturally ends up meeting the
cruelest fate.
Plus
you have Frances McDormand, looking a little like Hillary Clinton, sobbing
about having to build a firewall. So yeah, 2016 in a nutshell.
Miller’s
Crossing (1990). The angry man behind the desk is a Coen motif. Sooner or
later, their protagonists always have to square off against one. Crossing
doubles down on the theme. Gabriel Byrne’s Tom Reagan stands before two such
desks – Albert Finney’s and Jon Polito’s – as both advisor and adversary. There
are valuable lessons here for the next few years. In a harsh and unpredictable
world, the only way to win is to play the long game, even if it means keeping
your true motives hidden.
Hail, Caesar! (2016).
Fourth viewing of their latest movie. I don’t think it’s a minor work. I think
it’s a dense, unconventionally structured masterpiece. (My pal Ethan Iverson likes it, too.) The “man behind the desk”
evolves in the Coens’ films – when the figure appears in Burn After Reading in
the form of J.K. Simmons’ CIA chief, he’s as befuddled as everyone else – and it’s
strangely moving that in Caesar, they’ve finally made him their hero. All you
can hope for is that, like Josh Brolin’s Eddie Mannix, he has a soul and is
trying in his own way to do the right thing. Slapping some sense into wayward
movie star Baird Whitlock (George Clooney), he says, “You’re going to do it
because the picture has worth, and you have worth if you serve the picture, and
you’re never going to forget that again.” Finding something larger than you and
serving it. Good advice for the week.
One-half of classic Hollywood mystery writer Renee Patrick (DESIGN FOR DYING, DANGEROUS TO KNOW, SCRIPT FOR SCANDAL, THE SHARPEST NEEDLE, IDLE GOSSIP). Tippling gadabout. Author of DOWN THE HATCH: ONE MAN'S ONE YEAR ODYSSEY THROUGH CLASSIC COCKTAIL RECIPES AND LORE, available at Amazon. Editor, the Film Noir Foundation's NOIR CITY magazine.
