Martin Edwards's Blog, page 162

The Gray Man - film review

The Gray Man is a 2007 made, it seems, with a low-budget and a non-starry cast, but I found it rather more impressive than many a blockbuster. It's based on a true story from the 20s and30s, about the American cannibal and paedophile Albert H. Fish. I'd heard of Fish, but didn't know much about his homicidal career, which in fact was as gruesome as you could possibly imagine. But a great merit of this film is that it avoids the sensational and the salacious as far as practicable.

A preludes shows Fish being mistreated during his boyhood at an orphanage, and the screenplay makes clear that this played a major part in turning him into a quite monstrous killer. Fish is played by Patrick Bauchau, an actor unknown to me, who does a very good job of capturing the seemingly irreconcilable aspects of Fish's personality. He has charm, and is in some respects a good father, but he's also capable of repellent acts of sheer evil.

Jack Conley plays Will King, a cop who eventually becomes involved when Fish abducts a young girl called Grace Budd. The scenes in which Fish takes Grace on a trip - supposedly to another girl's birthday party - are sad and deeply chilling. Suffice to say that her story did not have a happy ending. The tragic folly of Grace's mother - who wrongly identifies someone else as the kidnapper - is also conveyed with some pathos.

I don't claim that this film is a masterpiece. It's hard to understand what makes a man like Fish behave in such a way, and the story of his life was rather more complicated than the screenplay suggests. But it is crisply and capably written, and held my attention from start to finish. Such a horrible story could easily have become a gorefest. Instead, The Gray Man gives us at least a partial insight into one of the most extraordinary American murder cases and does not treat its lurid subject matter in an exploitative way - and it's all the better for that..

Forgotten Book - Measure for Murder

My Forgotten Book for today is Clifford Witting's Measure for Murder. Witting's name isn't well-known these days, but he retains a number of admirers, and those picky (and knowledgeable) critics Jacques Barzun and Wendell Hertig Taylor rated this particular novel a classic, including it in a series of fifty crime classics from the first half of the twentieth century.

Witting's series detective, Inspector Charlton, makes an appearance in this book, but not until half way through. The structure is unusual. We are told about the discovery of a murder at the start of the book, but then we go back in time and follow a story told by Vaughan Tudor, which sets the scene for the crime.

Tudor is quite a likeable character, and he describes how, after an unsatisfactory spell as a bank clerk, he became an estate agent in a small town, and involved himself in the activities of a newly formed amateur dramatic society. The society gets off to a good start, but tensions mount as Tudor, and one or two of his colleagues, become enamoured of a very attractive actress. Preparations for the staging of Measure for Measure are disrupted by several untoward incidents - and then murder is committed.

The book is set just before, and just after, the start of the Second World War,and I was interested by Tudor's account of small town life at that troubled period of our history. The murder mystery, however, I found less satisfactory. There are too many characters, and the story felt very cluttered. I also found the motive and identity of the culprit less than totally convincing. But Witting's prose is light and agreeable, and he eventually earned membership of the Detection Club.

Brit Noir by Barry Forshaw

Brit Noir is another contribution by Barry Forshaw to the Pocket Essentials imprint of Oldcastle Books; his previous titles in the series are Nordic Noir and Euro Noir. The sub-title is "The Pocket Essential Guide to the Crime Fiction, Film and TV of the British Isles". All this in just over 200 pages! Naturally, it's a selective overview, but I've found it not only readable but also informative. Barry Forshaw has already directed me to one or two books and authors I knew very little or nothing about, and that is always one of the great benefits, in my opinion, of a decent book about the genre, whatever angle the author takes.

Barry's angle is wider than the word "Noir" might imply; I'm one of the many authors featured, yet my novels (unlike some of my darker short stories) don't fall within a conventional view of noir fiction. The same is true of Kate Ellis' work and that of many other authors included - such as, to take Barry's own example, Alexander McCall Smith. So just because you're not a noir fan, don't disregard this very wide-ranging guide.

Barry explains his approach more fully in a useful introduction. He also makes the point that, although authors are listed by geographical location, the best way to find them is by looking at the index. I didn't expect to find Kate n the North East section, to be honest, but the explanation derives from the fictionalised York in which her Joe Plantagenet books are set. So the index is the place to go when trying to see if your favourite author is featured.

There are, at least, three main ways in which reviewers tend to criticise books about the genre. The first is to argue about the author's opinions. The second is to complain about omissions, and the third is to quibble about errors. (A cynic might add that a fourth method is to ignore the book and simply promote the reviewer's own opinions!) All of us who write about the genre understand that none of our books is ever definitive, and Barry would be the first to acknowledge that this is true of Brit Noir. But as I say, despite the fact that I've soaked myself in fictional crime over the years, he's highlighted plenty that was unfamiliar to me, above all, various interesting films, some of which I intend to check out as soon as I can. And that makes me very glad indeed to have a copy of this short and snappy book on my shelves.

Marcella - ITV review

A few years ago, a chap at ITV asked me who I'd like to be cast as Hannah Scarlett in a projected televised version of the Lake District Mysteries. Several names sprang to mind, some of them more obvious than others. Among them was that of Anna Friel, a terrific actor whom I first saw in Brookside many years ago. She's become a big star since then, and I didn't really think she'd ever become Hannah. In fact,,that particular TV deal - like every other television deal to date concerning my books - never came to anything, though it did pay for a couple of lovely holidays. But tonight, Marcella aired on ITV. And guess who plays the eponymous female cop? Yep,it's Anna.

We first see Marcella, bruised and battered, recovering in a bath from some mysterious ordeal. What has happened to her? Well, by the end of episode one, I wasn't much the wiser, but I thought the storyline was engaging - definitely good enough for me to keep watching. The script is by Hans Rosenfeldt, who wrote The Bridge - it's his first drama for British television.

Inevitably, some elements of the storyline are familiar. (The same will, no doubt, be said if ever the Lakes books do make it to the screen - and you never know, it may happen one day...) But that, to my mind, isn't really a problem. So many detective stories have been written that true originality is very, very rare. The key question is whether the writer has mixed up the ingredients skilfully enough to produce something truly appetising.

When judging TV dramas, I often think back to the early series of Taggart written by Glenn Chandler. Those stories had a quality of the off-beat that Marcella, for all its quality, lacks. But the London setting is evocatively presented, the mysterious link between the killings and corruption in a construction business (shades of The Long Good Friday?) are nicely done, and Friel has a compelling screen presence. We'll have to see how the plot thickens, but so far, I'm rather taken with Marcella.

Le Corbeau - film review

Le Corbeau is a film that, perhaps to my shame, I'd never heard of until Xavier Lechard,a blogger with great knowledge of and insight into Golden Age fiction recommended it on Facebook. Every now and then, I ask myself whether it's worth spending time on Facebook and Twitter, but the answer is that, although some argue that there is plenty of dross on social media, you also come across some unexpected gems. Xavier's recommendation was spot on. This is a fantastic film.

The film is, at least on the surface, a classic Golden Age whodunit, with an iconic setting -an idyllic-seeming village (in France, not rural England) which is rent asunder by a wave of poison pen letters. Interestingly, Louis Chavance was influenced in writing his original script by a real life outbreak of poison pen letters in Tulle. He wrote it in 1933, but the film was not made -by the great Clouzot, as it turned out - until ten years later.

By then, of course, France was occupied territory. There is no hint of this in the film - until you start to think about the sub-text. A very good extra on the DVD is a discussion of the film, during which the point is made that the plot parallels the wave of anonymous letters in occupied France denouncing Jews and Resistance fighters. The film was made by a German-run company, and after the war, Clouzot got into trouble for this, as did two of the leading actors. The film's cleverness and complexity mean that it's open to a number of interpretations, but for me,any suggestion that Le Corbeau was pro-Nazi propaganda is absurd.

I don't want to say too much about the plot. It's very well constructed, but what I most admired about this film was the way that classic Golden Age plot material was handled with such subtle ambiguity that one can read a great deal into the film. Some say that it's a film noir that anticipates later Hollywood movies, and I think there is some truth in this, despite the fact that the setting is a village bathed in sunlight. Darkness is never far away in Le Corbeau. I very much second Xavier's recommendation of this classic movie.

Forgotten Book - The Organ Speaks

When The Organ Speaks was first published in 1935, Dorothy L.Sayers wrote a rhapsodic review in The Sunday Times, saying that it had an aesthetic value she hadn't previously found in the work of E.C.R. Lorac. She said the story was "highly original, highly ingenious, and remarkable for atmospheric writing and convincing development of character".

High praise, which makes it surprising that the book has disappeared so completely from sight. When copies do surface on the internet or in an auction, they tend to go for high prices. It's taken me a long time, consequently, to track the story down, and see whether it appealed to me as much as it did to Sayers. Now I've read the book, I can see why she liked it, though in my opinion it's  not as successful as the slightly later Bats in the Belfry.

The opening is dramatic. The body of a man called Loudon is founded in a music pavilion in Regent's Park. He has been playing the organ, but has died in the most mysterious circumstances. The cause of death is soon revealed, though. (This is not one of those stories of the type favoured by the likes of John Rhode, where the discovery of a complex murder method comes at the climax.) The challenge for Inspector Macdonald is to find whodunit.

I agree that it's a well-written book, and highly readable. If I were, like Sayers, very knowledgeable about classical music, I might have admired it even more. For me, the whodunit mystery is not particularly impressive, and I'm not sure Lorac played entirely fair in terms of enabling us to deduce the motive. Sayers was less interested in the whodunit aspect of a story than, say, Agatha Christie (or me) and that may be why she valued it so highly. That said, it's definitely worth reading - if you are lucky enough to find a copy.

The Folio Society and The Floating Admiral

About thirty years ago (blimey!) the Folio Society commissioned me to write an article for its magazine "Folio" about Raymond Chandler's literary style. This accompanied a lovely set of Chandler's books, which still has pride of place on top of my bookshelves, close to where I'm typing this blog post. The set sold well, and there was a second edition a few years later. Over the years since then, I've added a few more Folio Society editions of crime novels to my collection. They are always highly attractive.

And now the Folio Society have reissued The Floating Admiral by the Detection Club, in a beautiful new edition with lovely illustrations by Mark Thomas. I've picked out one of them to head this blog post. All in all, this edition strikes me as highly collectible.

The book also boasts a brand new intro from Simon Brett, which is characteristically witty and enjoyable. The enduring appeal of this "round robin" detective novel is clear. And members of the Detection Club are very much hoping that our latest collaborative novel, The Sinking Admiral - not a sequel to the original, but in some ways a homage to it - will also find an appreciative audience. It will be published in June. Can't wait!

Maigret Sets a Trap - ITV review

Maigret Sets a Trap, starring Rowan Atkinson as the legendary French cop, aired on ITV this evening. Many eyebrows were raised by the casting of Atkinson as Georges Simenon's Chief Inspector Maigret, but John Simenon expressed his delight with the performance when we discussed Golden Age fiction on stage at the Essex Book Festival a fortnight ago, and having seen the show, I can see why. Atkinson, I felt, did a pretty good job. There's more to him as an actor than Blackadder and Mr Bean.

I never saw the famous Maigret series starring Rupert Davies, for which I was too young, but I did enjoy one of John's anecdotes about it - apparently his father taught Rupert Davies how to use a pipe. Wisely, the pipe was retained for the new show: Maigret without his pipe would be rather like Morse without opera or Marple without her knitting - somehow incomplete. Maigret doesn't drive, and Atkinson - a car obsessive - wanted to change that, but wisely, the temptation was again resisted.

I did see the series in which Michael Gambon played Maigret,and I quite liked it, but felt that it lacked excitement. Some aspects of the Maigret stories are low-key (and when I first read them as a teenager, I was slightly underwhelmed, although with hindsight I feel that this was perhaps due to the nature of the translations) but a crime story that doesn't grip and, in some way, excite doesn't have much of a future. The Maigret books are short and snappy, and I worried that a two-hour version might drag.

Stewart Harcourt's script set out to solve that problem with sparse dialogue, and a concentration on mood rather than plot twists. Watching Maigret Sets a Trap was a very different experience from watching Morse, Lewis or Endeavour, but a capable supporting cast, including Fiona Shaw, Aidan McCardle, and Lucy Cohu - very good as Madame Maigret - helped to make it enjoyable viewing. (And did I spot John Simenon making a cameo appearance at the end of the story? I think so.)

Coincidentally, I embarked on a Simenon reading binge a little while ago, and the republication of his work by Penguin, with excellent fresh translations, has re-ignited my enthusiasm for this remarkable author. So has hearing John speak about his father, with insight and affection. I'm hoping to review a number of Simenon books in the coming months - not just Maigrets, but also some of his non-series work. In the meantime, I look forward to the next TV adaptation.

The Night Manager - spoiler-free reflections on a TV classic

The Night Manager, the sixth and final episode of which aired on BBC 1 this evening, is one of the finest British television series I've seen in a long while. In recent years I can only think of Broadchurch (the first series, definitely not the second) and Happy Valley which were similarly compelling. In contrast to those two series, The Night Manager was based on a novel,. It was written by the legendary John Le Carre, and I haven't read it, although evidently the process of updating the story to the present and for the screen has resulted in many changes.

Why has the story hooked me, and millions of others? Well, first of all, it offers a gripping blend of plot and character. Jonathan Pine, the enigmatic hotel manager with a military past, becomes involved with a beautiful woman who falls foul of a fabulously wealthy villain called Roper. When she is murdered, Pine is jolted out of his apparently comfortable lifestyle,and is persuaded by a British secret agent, played by Olivia Colman, to infiltrate Roper's organisation and bring him down.

That' s the basic set-up, but the detail is full of complications that are so skilfully handled. Part of the fascination of the story for TV viewers like me is surely the glimpse into the lifestyles of absurdly rich people such as Roper and his circle. They move from one exotic spot to another, flunkies cater to their every whim. Sounds great, but there's a price to be paid. I was reminded vividly of an exceptionally rich person I once came across. He lived in a fantastic mansion, which I found fascinating to visit, and had a glamorous girlfriend and a private yacht and plane. But the mansion had a panic room where they could hide from kidnappers, and military guards at the gate...

Back to The Night Manager. The relationships, for example between Colman and her colleagues,and between Hiddleston and Roper's lover, are done in enough depth to make us care about the characters,and about what happens to them. I was glad that the final episode matched the quality of the preceding five. One brief but memorable scene did owe something to The Long Good Friday, but without in any way compromising the originality of the storyline.

A script so good deserved great acting, and that's exactly what was supplied by Tom Hiddleston, Tom Hollander, and Elizabeth Debicki. I wasn't quite sure at first about Hugh Laurie as Roper; was he credibly nasty enough to play the part? My misgivings proved needless Laurie presented a character with great superficial charm, a caring father who has people killed for profit; he was at his best in the final episode, when his true nature came to the surface. Hollander was brilliantly creepy as Corky, and Hiddleston has really made a name for himself with this show. I wasn't sure before I started watching The Night Manager whether I'd love it. But I did,- I really did.

Forgotten Book - And Being Dead

My Forgotten Book for today was And Being Dead, the novel with which Margaret Erskine introduced herself to the reading public in 1938. My copy, inscribed by Erskine, contains a copy of the original review in The Observer by Torquemada, who admired it. Given that Torquemada was arguably the leading crime critic of the day, Erskine must have felt greatly encouraged, although oddly her next novel did not appear for another eight years, presumably for reasons connected with the war.

A libidinous artist called Kenneth Dean is introduced at the start of the book, and promptly dispatched. The murder is too much for the local police to handle, and they call in Scotland Yard. Inspector Septimus Finch, suave and public school educated, and his Hendon-trained sidekick, Sergeant Bratton, duly arrive to take charge.

The setting, a coastal resort called Coldhithe, is pretty well evoked. Erskine was born in Canada but brought up in Devon, and it may be that her fictional setting is based on a Devonian model, but I'm not sure about that. I am sure, though, that Erskine was a decent writer. This book has, like most first novels, a number of flaws, but the writing and characterisation are rather better than that to be found in many of the books of the Golden Age.

Finch is a mildly likeable character, and he became a fixture in Erskine's books. This  one, by the way, has sometimes been published under alternative titles - The Limping Man and The Painted Mask. Her reputation has faded, but her career as a published crime novelist lasted for forty years, which strikes me as no mean achievement. She wasn't especially prolific, barely averaging one novel every two years, but she doesn't deserve to remain forgotten..