Jonathan Dodd‘s latest column. Guest opinion articles do not necessarily reflect the views of the publication. Ed
Well, I did go to see Spectre, and I broadly agree with most of the reviews. Apart from those that I didn’t agree with, of course. I subscribe to Empire Magazine, which assiduously reviews every film that’s being released every month. I read it from cover to cover, and I mostly agree with their assessment of the films I haven’t yet seen.
I also listen to one of the best radio Film Review Programmes on Radio 5 Live every Friday afternoon between 2 and 4pm. Unless there’s some prime sporting event going on, in which case they are shamelessly shunted, either off the air or to a different timeslot entirely.
I don’t even mind getting stuck in traffic
If my working week entails having to drive a long way home on Friday afternoon, I never miss this treat, and it always passes the time with great enjoyment, so much so that I don’t even mind getting stuck in traffic. If I can’t be driving, I’ll download the podcast on iPlayer and listen to it when I get an uninterruptible two hours during the week following.
I had a mad dream once of inventing a waterproof mp3 player, and listening to it whilst swimming, but I knew that wasn’t going to happen. Imagine my surprise when I found out that there is actually a waterproof mp3 player out there, especially manufactured for swimmers. Then I thought better of it because my swimming is definitely a place where there should be no interruptions, apart from having to overtake slow swimmers clogging up my lane.
Imagine my surprise
Technology has a habit of tripping me up. I remember an old joke many years ago when BMWs were the dream of young executives everywhere, about someone wanting a BMW that told you when your tyres weren’t inflated fully. It was very funny, watching the salesman trying to explain why such a thing would be impossible to manufacture.
That was in the days before everything became smart. Nowadays you can buy a car that tells you exactly what your tyre pressures are, through the invention of smart valves, with integral transmitters. Imagine my surprise when I recently found myself testing that very feature in middle-of-the-range Nissan cars.
Because they talk sense about films
So anyway, I like the Kermode/Mayo thing, partly because they’ve been doing the show for donkey’s years and sound more like an old married couple than seasoned radio presenters, partly because they have a lot of small and endearing elements in the show, which they call “Wittertainment”, but mostly because they talk sense about films, and they have an enormous combined knowledge and love of movies.
I also agree with most of their reviews and opinions, which is borne out by my thoughts when I actually manage to see any of the films they have reviewed. Sadly, most of these films won’t become available to the likes of me for months, when the DVD gets released, and even then sometimes there’s no DVD, or it’s ridiculously expensive. I can always wait another few months and find it on eBay, but I have to be able to remember which films from so long ago I still want to see.
An unfeasible number of foreign DVDs
There are some things I can do in the meantime. There are excellent film clubs out there which show a range of movies not usually seen at the local multiplex. Or I can go to a wonderful shop called Fopp in Covent Garden. Or Birmingham, or Manchester, if I happen to be passing through. They stock an unfeasible number of foreign DVDs, all at unbelievably good prices, and I can occasionally grab a glorious armful to take home.
I’ve been resisting the postal DVD subscription services, or the download method, partly because I like to own films and revisit them when the impulsive mood strikes, rather than have to go through all the trouble of searching and then downloading. It’s like the terrible question in the pub about naming your favourite ten films. It’s so much easier if they’re there on your shelf in your living room.
The Spice Rack Effect
The other lovely thing about owning films is what I call the Spice Rack Effect. When I look at my shelves and the neat rows of films in whatever order they’re sorted in, I read the name on the spine or pull it out to see the picture on the front, and I get a concentrated whiff of the heart and soul of the film itself.
It’s a bit like a super-trailer, with the smell and taste of the whole thing mixed in with individual highlight, all delivered instantaneously. It’s almost sensory overload. When I run my finger along the row, this effect is like an avalanche of different nuggets of experience, and it’s easy to find the one that’s just right for tonight. I just can’t get the same effect from a screen or a list. And I can’t organize my mind to recall all the films I own either.
The magical factor that makes me love them
I’ve been thinking about all those films, and trying to find the magical factor that makes me love them. But there doesn’t seem to be anything in common. I’m not one of those people who argue about whether the warp drive can actually go faster than light, or whether you could actually get a storm on Mars. I don’t usually wonder how the stars emerge from explosions with their hair untouched, so it’s not that.
I think I have to qualify that thought. I don’t usually mind such things because I’m so totally absorbed in the story that it doesn’t matter. If I catch myself asking things like ‘How does he manage to go through lots of frontiers and still have a gun?’, or ‘They’re suddenly on a train crossing the Sahara Desert, wearing a complete set of expensive new clothes’, then I know I’m not absorbed, and that the story isn’t gripping me as it should.
Otherwise everything falls apart
So it’s all about the story and the characters for me. I don’t care if the world they’re living in looks like Lincolnshire right now, or whether there are talking lions, or how storm-trooper body armour works when there are so many gaps between the plates, as long as the story is doing its job.
When I think about film-making, it amazes me that any film ever gets made. You have to have a script that’s worth doing, and actors who are available, and places, and props, and equipment, and costumes that look good and fit properly, and food, and permission, and someone has to provide all the money you need to pay all those people and services, and you have a schedule for everyone which can’t change, otherwise everything falls apart.
Inserting magic and delight
I really don’t know how they do it. And as for inserting magic and delight and things that pull my emotional strings and push those enjoyment buttons, it seems like a miracle to me. I salute those intrepid film-makers all over the world, struggling daily to survive and thrive, managing to produce moving images that I can watch and be enthralled by.
I just wish more of them were available at my local cinema.
If you have been, thank you for reading this.
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