F.R. Jameson's Blog, page 40

Foliage by F.R. Jameson

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My short story FOLIAGE is currently available for free on Kindle in a number of territories. If you have a moment, please download and check it out.

The below is my introduction to the tale.

I can probably pinpoint exactly where in my psyche FOLIAGE comes from. It’s me poking away at the emotional scars caused by seeing bits of the BBC’s adaptation of THE DAY OF THE TRIFFIDS in 1981.

It wasn’t from reading the book. I didn’t read the book until much later. To be honest, since I was only six in 1981 when this adaptation aired, I’m not entirely sure how I got to see any of the TV series (my parents were relaxed with policing my viewing habits, but they surely weren’t that relaxed). But I saw it and I saw the title creatures and I was left with a deep seated dread that there were plants out there who would happily hurt me.

These childhood fears weren’t alleviated by the fact that we had a number of large plants in and around the house. There was a giant Mother-in Law’s tongue just inside our lounge which towered over me and always seemed to be on the point of reaching out its sharp leaves and impaling me; there was a honeysuckle around our front door, the kind of thing which would get out of hand in a fairy tale and seal us in forever; while around our back and front garden was a hedge of conifers that an imaginative little boy could easily imagine upping roots and marching towards the house to do terrible things to me and my family.

In short I didn’t have the mentality of the green fingered. Green fingers were surely what happened when the evil sap of the enemy plants got into our bloodstream.

I was scared of plants and I had the BBC’s 1981 version of THE DAY OF THE TRIFFIDS to thank for it.

What makes this so absurd is if you look at that adaptation now, the effects and the realisation of the Triffids is ludicrously poor. The monsters are clunky, cumbersome and obviously made out of rubber. Even for the time period they seem ridiculously unconvincing. So bad are they that one can imagine the contemporaneous FX guy on DOCTOR WHO shaking his head with disappointment and pity for his poor inept colleague. How it could have created such a reaction in me is unfathomable.

But rewatching it and being amazed was for the future. The 1981 Triffids got into my mind like few other things and the notion of plants not being oxygen producing friends, but instead monsters the equivalent of werewolves and vampires was made part of my DNA.

FOLIAGE is my response to that. A short sci-fi/horror story that I started writing in my childhood nightmares.

I hope you enjoy.

You can pick FOLIAGE up for free on Amazon through the following links:

UK

USA

Australia

Canada

Doctor Who Reviews – The Pilot

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I’m a tad underwhelmed, if I’m honest.

In a way that’s odd, as if I were to total up all I liked about this episode, I’d come up with more in the positive column than the negative. Bill is clearly a fun and refreshingly grounded companion, while Pearl Mackie is an engaging screen presence; the horror moments – J-Horror, though obviously with a few nods to ‘The Waters of Mars’ – were really effective (particularly the eye down the damned plughole); and I’m not sure there has ever been a better version of the ‘companion realises the Tardis is bigger on the inside than the outside’ scene. Plus the series is clearly set up very nicely with the intrigue over what The Doctor and Nardole have in the vault.

There are good things here, but I’ll be stunned if I look back on the series and count this as one of the better episodes.

Previous companion introductions in the age of Moffatt have taken place at high speed. Amy in ‘The Eleventh Hour’ and Clara (or a version of her) in ‘Asylum of the Daleks’ – there was a lot going on, there were a hell of a lot of ideas thrown in and they were cracking examples of developing character through action. This seemed happy to just meander. As I said I liked Bill, but the first half of the episode was a big ask to get us to care about a new character when she’s basically just hanging out. Eventually things do get going with The Doctor making the story his, but even then it seemed a tad inconsequential. I was far more interested in the vault and The Doctor’s secrets than whatever reason was going to be offered for the water girl stopping following them about. Even the contractural obligation appearance of the Daleks failed to add any real jeopardy.

This episode of course represents a soft relaunch of the show, with the title a nod to that. It’s Moffatt inviting those who have drifted away or never been on board, to pull on the handles of those famous blue doors and enjoy the fun. I just hope that having invited them into the warm embrace of DOCTOR WHO fandom, he didn’t lose them again by giving us an episode which had its charms but not really any wow factor.

My increasingly hopeful thoughts about Doctor Who – Series 10

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I did have in mind to write a short piece about why I was so trepidatious about this up-coming series of DOCTOR WHO.

Why was I feeling this way?

Well, let me run through what we’ve had so far in the Moffat era:

Series 5 – his first as show-runner, was absolutely brilliant! It was fresh, sharp, entertaining, hung together wonderfully, and in ‘The Pandorica Opens’/’The Big Bang’, gave me what is still my favourite two-parter in DOCTOR WHO history.
Then there was series six, which in the intricacies of its series long arc, seemed something more to admire, than enjoy.
Series 7, split in two halves is very much a series of two halves, with the Pond segment having run out of steam, while the more understated Clara half does actually hold up. Even if Moffat, immensely talented writer that he clearly is, can never get the mystery girl stuff to really work.

Into the Capaldi years….

Series 8 I thought was frequently excellent, but didn’t really work as a whole. No doubt that’s because I wasn’t as much a fan of the two part conclusion as others were. The build up to it, which required The Doctor to suddenly (and conveniently) forget that he mostly likes soldiers, felt forced to me; while I still can’t get over the ludicrousness of Cyber-Brig, I’m afraid.
Then it’s series 9, which actually is excellent. A fantastic series which rivals series 5, and in ‘Heaven Sent’/’Hell Bent’, has my second favourite two-parter.

So that’s five series – two brilliant, two flawed but good, one I didn’t care for.

Looking at it written down like that, it really isn’t a bad record. Yet my nervousness comes from the fact that having had a brilliant series last time, the odds are the best we can hope for now is a good but flawed. One whose faults will nag away at me even as I enjoy the best episodes

And yet…

AND YET…

The return of the Mondasian Cybermen, John bloody Simm coming back in a potential Master/Missy mash-up….

It just feels like some really exciting buttons are being pushed. I have no idea how good it is going to be, but instead of nervousness, I am actually allowing myself to feel hope.

Roll on twentypast seven this evening!

 

Addendum One – Curious info from P-Cap’s interviews earlier this week that he’s already filmed his regeneration scene. Given that we know he’s in the Christmas special, how is that going to work?  For what it’s worth, my RIDICULOUS FAN THEORY THAT WILL ALMOST CERTAINLY BE PROVED WRONG is: 

We’re going to get some kind of multi-Doctor episode at the end of the year. Either 12 and 13 working together, or a prolonged regeneration where they keep switching back and fore, one to the other.

 

Addendum Two: The bulk of the above was written earlier this week. I was excited then, but this afternoon, myself, Mrs Jameson and Baby Jameson went to the superb Doctor Who Experience in Cardiff Bay. If you thought my anticipation levels were high Monday, they’re nothing to now!

 

My increasingly hopefully thoughts about Doctor Who – Series 10

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I did have in mind to write a short piece about why I was so trepidatious about this up-coming series of DOCTOR WHO.

Why was I feeling this way?

Well, let me run through what we’ve had so far in the Moffat era:

Series 5 – his first as show-runner, was absolutely brilliant! It was fresh, sharp, entertaining, hung together wonderfully, and in ‘The Pandorica Opens’/’The Big Bang’, gave me what is still my favourite two-parter in DOCTOR WHO history.
Then there was series six, which in the intricacies of its series long arc, seemed something more to admire, than enjoy.
Series 7, split in two halves is very much a series of two halves, with the Pond segment having run out of steam, while the more understated Clara half does actually hold up. Even if Moffat, immensely talented writer that he clearly is, can never get the mystery girl stuff to really work.

Into the Capaldi years….

Series 8 I thought was frequently excellent, but didn’t really work as a whole. No doubt that’s because I wasn’t as much a fan of the two part conclusion as others were. The build up to it, which required The Doctor to suddenly (and conveniently) forget that he mostly likes soldiers, felt forced to me; while I still can’t get over the ludicrousness of Cyber-Brig, I’m afraid.
Then it’s series 9, which actually is excellent. A fantastic series which rivals series 5, and in ‘Heaven Sent’/’Hell Bent’, has my second favourite two-parter.

So that’s five series – two brilliant, two flawed but good, one I didn’t care for.

Looking at it written down like that, it really isn’t a bad record. Yet my nervousness comes from the fact that having had a brilliant series last time, the odds are the best we can hope for now is a good but flawed. One whose faults will nag away at me even as I enjoy the best episodes

And yet…

AND YET…

The return of the Mondasian Cybermen, John bloody Simm coming back in a potential Master/Missy mash-up….

It just feels like some really exciting buttons are being pushed. I have no idea how good it is going to be, but instead of nervousness, I am actually allowing myself to feel hope.

Roll on twentypast seven this evening!

 

Addendum One – Curious info from P-Cap’s interviews earlier this week that he’s already filmed his regeneration scene. Given that we know he’s in the Christmas special, how is that going to work?  For what it’s worth, my RIDICULOUS FAN THEORY THAT WILL ALMOST CERTAINLY BE PROVED WRONG is: 

We’re going to get some kind of multi-Doctor episode at the end of the year. Either 12 and 13 working together, or a prolonged regeneration where they keep switching back and fore, one to the other.

 

Addendum Two: The bulk of the above was written earlier this week. I was excited then, but this afternoon, myself, Mrs Jameson and Baby Jameson went to the superb Doctor Who Experience in Cardiff Bay. If you thought my anticipation levels were high Monday, they’re nothing to now!

 

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (2016)

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I know I’ve given the impression of a one-track cinema fan, but I’m not only going to review horror films here.

I’m sure there will be thrillers I’ll want to say some words about.

I’m very partial to crime movies.

And fantasy is close enough to horror that I’ll have some words to say there too.

Even fantasy kid movies like FANTASTIC BEASTS AND WHERE TO FIND THEM.

Some background: as yet I haven’t got around to reading any of the HARRY POTTER novels. (Perversely, I have read all of the CORMORAN STRIKES). I have however seen each of the films and, as they progress – basically, as the centre trio get competent and then even quite good at acting – the films do rise distinctly in quality.

I think though that I prefer FANTASTIC BEASTS to all of them.

It doesn’t have the self-seriousness of a HARRY POTTER, wearing its mythology much lighter on its sleeves. Watching it and chuckling away with my wife, it struck us that this might be a better introduction to the whole universe than the POTTER movies, when our baby daughter eventually develops a two hour attention span.

However, I think the film makers did miss a trick.

(Spoilers ahead, I’m afraid).

At the end, when the wizards rebuilt 1920s New York and oblivated the nomaj’s memories, rather than simply have them forget, wouldn’t it have been great if they’d instead convinced them that all the damage had been caused by a transported giant ape from Skull Island?

It would have been fantastic bringing together of two universes, but not in a way that suggested KING KONG was real, merely that he was created by wizards as a distraction device.

There’s already so much shared iconography: the 1920s/1930s NYC setting; the giant and destructive monster loose on the streets who just wants to be loved; and the character of Queenie, clearly style-modelled on Fay Wray.

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Why not just go the full ape?

The whole thing would have been particularly appropriate as earlier we had a grand homage to the Peter Jackson version. It wasn’t the monster of the piece, true, instead one of the fantastic beasts – but we did get another sequence where a large incredible creature and the human object of its affection slid around together on a frozen lake in Central Park. In 2005 it was Naomi Watts and Kong, while in 2016 it was Dan Fogler and a giant rhino with both a metaphorical and literal flaming horn. The connection is clearly there.

Now I hated that scene in Peter Jackson’s KING KONG. It was an Indulgent and unnecessary overlong scene in what was an indulgent and unnecessary overlong remake.  But I now feel kind of glad it exists because I had so much fun when FANTASTIC BEASTS did their version.

Obviously the makers of KONG: SKULL ISLAND might have something to say about all of this, but I just hope that when the sequel to this arrives that it has a devilish confidence which lets it homage and reference all kinds of other franchises, no matter who might own the copyright.

How would you write about Donald Trump in a horror story? (part 7)

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Incredibly, the last week gave us something like character development.

Hitherto, Trump gave every impression of basically being everyone else in HIGH NOON. All his rhetoric suggested his logo was a plump, rich looking ostrich with its head buried deep in designer sand, not doing anything, no matter what shitty things took place around it.

America First, and all that.

Assad clearly thought that was the correct reading of the man.

But now, well, Trump seems to have taken a moral stand on something.

He’s looked at terrible world events and decided that enough is goddamn enough.

Now, I’m as guilty as anyone of thinking that Trump cared about no one but himself and maybe his own family. But now, he does seem to showing sympathy for others, displaying outrage when bad things happen to them.

But is this actual growth?

Or, are these merely the actions of an obviously emotional and volatile guy, who will have found something new (and let’s be honest, probably annoyingly trivial) to concern him by the end of next week?

I’ve always wanted to write a story about a man who makes the correct decision, but the consequences are terrible. If this action – which I believe was the right thing to do – results in a full blown confrontation with Russia, then this might be it.

Obviously, I really hope and pray that that’s not the story I end up telling.

Me, Writing, in 2017

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I finished the first rough draft of my new novel!

It took me about six weeks from start to finish, writing in A5 notepads on trains, in cafes and on my rocking chair at home. I’ve broken off from sentences to play with my daughter and come back to them, I’ve broken off from sentences to chat to my wife and come back to them, I’ve broken off from sentences at the end of a journey and then run into the concourse at Waterloo to continue for ten more minutes. I haven’t just wanted to do this, I’ve needed to do it. My goal was set, the memories of all the other writings I failed to finished burned in my mind, and I knew that – this time – I had to deliver

And yet, when I finished that final chapter, I didn’t feel as happy as I thought I might.

I have, I estimate, about 70,000 words (most of which will have to be re-written), I have 48 chapters (some of which, I know already, will prove superfluous) and I have two notepads full of scribbles which I am already in the process of writing up in a tidier hand. After that I will type it, I will rewrite it some more and then edit it.

There is a certain amount of self-pride, I did have a brief moment of joy, but it’s too bloody early to celebrate. Ahead is a long old trek. I’m sure I face many disheartening moments. Soul-crushing days when I hate not only this book and all its characters, but the very English language itself. Almost certainly I will reach passages I cannot get right no matter how much I try and I will curse my poor feeble brain until I find a way through.

Whatever happens I won’t be quitting though. I promise to the lords of the internet (which is, of course, the most solemn promise a man can make these days) that I will work early in the morning and late into the night to give myself a finished novel – and not just a scrappy first draft – I can be genuinely and truly proud of!

Christine by Stephen King

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CHRISTINE was always a book that intrigued me. When I was young a hardback copy sat prominently on the bookshelves of my Grandma’s bedroom. It had a bright, angry looking Plymouth Fury on the cover and I can remember being fascinated by it. Yet, when I started reading Stephen King novels myself it wasn’t one I picked it up. Indeed, it’s the only major novel of his imperial phase that I hadn’t read.

Why was that?

Undoubtedly it’s because I don’t have that big an interest in cars. Yes, I come from the land of ‘Top Gear’ but this fetishizing of big old 1950’s automobiles does seem much more of an American than a British thing. Put it this way, it’s hard to imagine that James Herbert would have got away with an equivalent book about a Morris Minor. So, reading a book centred on a car, even by an author whom I love, just seemed like hard work to me.

And maybe a lot of that is why I didn’t really enjoy it. No matter how much I tried, no matter how hard the narrative forced me to go with it, I couldn’t get with Christine as a threat. Big, red and furious she might be, but each time I envisaged it, the car was a Tex Avery animation.

Frankly, your book is in trouble when your constant reader can’t picture its main threat as anything other than a cartoon.

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But it’s more than that. CHRISTINE is overlong, which isn’t really a surprise for King, but it’s also frequently quite boring. The element that’s supposed to liven it up are Christine’s attacks and even they get tediously repetitive. King actually seems to realise this, with one or two of them happening away from the narrative.

What’s truly surprising though is how thin the characters are. Most of them – students and parents alike – are thumb-sketch caricatures. This is particularly egregious when it comes Leigh Cabot, who serves as the heroine here, and who is so thinly drawn that I had little more idea of her at the end than I did at the beginning. The narrator in the final act regrets his teenage sexism to her, but the entire book is like that – she’s a character who exists to be pretty, sexy, in danger and absolutely nothing else!

So, the only one of King’s big early novels I hadn’t read, and now – without a hint of a doubt – my least favourite.

 

As always, you can find more book reviews (hundreds in fact) on my Goodreads page.

Bone Tomahawk (2015)

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Despite its liking for gore, BONE TOMAHAWK seemed to me quite an old-fashioned kind of western.

We have here Kurt Russell in the grizzly old marshal John Wayne role; Richard Jenkins in the old kindly sidekick Walter Brennan role; Matthew Fox in the dandy gunslinger role (I’m trying to think of a perfect analogy – Kirk Douglas perhaps); and Patrick Wilson in the decent man suffering through terrible things James Stewart role.

(Perhaps though the closest role model for the Patrick Wilson role is Patrick Wilson, whose played a decent man suffering through the unknown and spooky in ‘The Conjuring’ and ‘Insidious’, and even ‘Fargo’. That’s not meant in any way as a criticism. He’s a good in the role, and when the day comes when he decides he’s bored playing it, that will be a real shame.)

Even the villain, well in a less enlightened age (I’m looking at you, 1950s) they wouldn’t be troglodytes, they’d be plain old native Americans. Cultural sensitivities be damned!

I don’t mean any of that as a criticism. I really enjoyed BONE TOMAHAWK and think it was the better of Kurt Russell’s two recent westerns. As much as I liked HATEFUL EIGHT, it was Tarantino grandstanding, this gave us a real story, proper characters to care about – you know, things that involve the audience in a film.

Four men form a posse to rescue a deputy and a doctor who have been kidnapped by fearsome cave dwellers. They’re a mismatched and bickering foursome, who are forced to pull together when they realise they’re in far more danger than they could possibly have imagined.

As I’ve said before, simple gore doesn’t thrill me anymore, but here it is at least used to determine character and increase tension, and not just as a means unto itself. But the good points to really take away from BONE TOMAHAWK are the sharp character interplay, the uniformly good performances and the dialogue which sounds like arcane old Americana – although that might just be a screenwriter’s clever ear tricking me.

It set me thinking, there should be more horror westerns, shouldn’t there? It’s a fascinating and yet underused crossing  I can remember GRIM PRAIRIE TALES from the 80s, and of course there’s BILLY THE KID VERSUS DRACULA. Intrigued, I dug around the internet a bit and came across this list. Looks like my LoveFilm wish-list is about to get some interesting stuff added to it.

How would you write about Donald Trump in a horror story? (part 6)

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Scenario 1

We set it in the Middle Ages and make Trump some mad king, with dutiful and not so dutiful courtiers, who King Donald boils alive when the mood takes him. His temper will gets the better of him and we’d have a “Who will rid me of these turbulent priest?” moment, with terrible consequence for his realm

Or

Scenario 2

We instead set it in the future with Trump as ruler of the most significant planet  in a star system, railing against his disloyal subjects and trying to battle back allegations that it was the Draconians who got him elected in the first place.

I’m not a great fan of the analogy route. Yes, you could go the whole hog and write about how Trump roasts and eats babies (which he doesn’t by the way – although he has probably tweeted that both Hilary and Barack do). But this is a story which requires immediacy, this is a story of now.

Maybe I’m wrong, but to set it elsewhere seems to me to mute the horror of what it’s like to have him as president. (It’s terrible that he’s there, although the way he’s actually going about ruling, it’s also darkly amusing. Like a toddler smashing its way through a party that you’re not enjoying: you hope he will stop, you want him to stop, yet you can’t help staring at it and secretly enjoying the moment.)

Our story has to be set in the here and now, while the horror of it can’t be glib or cheap, but has to be something from the outside that both comments on and illuminates the horror of the man himself.

But what? I’m tearing my locks out for the what.