B.J. Edwards's Blog, page 5

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Pluggy, plug, plug!

Hi all,

As part of a showcase for new stage writers, one of my short plays,

Refuge, is going to be on between the 12th and 14th of Marchh at The

Bread And Roses theatre, Clapham. If you know of anyone who would be

interested – producers, agents, punters, do please forward them this

mail. Apparently this venue gets sold out really quickly, so I would

ask you to book your tickets sharpish.

Thanks,

BJ

http://www.breadandrosestheatre.co.uk/spiral.html

Ranking Star Wars

Now I’ve seen both The Force Awakens and Rogue One, I thought it high time I compiled a top 8 Star Wars movies. Of course, it goes without saying, Caravan Of Courage is not only the best Star Wars film ever made, but probably the best sci-fi film ever made. True brilliance. This is of course followed by the Clone Wars movie which was a triumph of animation, a real masterpiece.

8Episode 2: Attack Of The Clones

What can I say about this sluggish, dull, boring, cringey and ill-conceived mess? Well, not much, but I’ll try. The script was dire, the acting wooden, the plot, thin. Even during one of the best bits, Obiwan’s battle with Jango, there was some cringey dialogue. And whilst Yoda’s lightsabering should have been amazing, it was marred by pointless CGI flying. Overall, I thought the film terrible, though Natalie Portman does wear some inexplicably odd outfits to cheer us up. And did I mention a flying R2-D2? Come on…

7 Episode 1: The Phantom Menace

To be fair, if it wasn’t for the fun pod race and the lightsabre battle between Obiwan, Jinn and Maul, this would have been just as poor as its sequel. Dare I mention Mitichloriens? Or however the hell you spell it – it’s so shit I can’t be bothered to look it up! And of course, we have The Binks…. I rest my case.

6 Episode 3: Revenge Of The Sith

The first 10 minutes are exhilarating, and as ever, John Williams provides us with a thrilling, percussive soundtrack to help us on our way. As ever, Ian McDiarmid is outstanding as the manipulative Palpatine. Even the lightsaber battle and Anakin’s/Vader’s fate is handled fairly well – Obiwan leaving him burned and broken – nice! This said, the film is still rather clunky and the acting can be described as a decent quality hardwood.

5 Rogue one: A Star Wars Story

Technically not a saga movie, but can nevertheless be described as episode 3.9. Some great and truly memorable moments. Though let down by a lack of characterisation and some questionable CGI, and a disappointing score, the film has guts. The last act is exhilarating. With some very sound acting from the main protagonists and a great moment from Vader, this is an excellent piece of work. I won’t mention a couple of really crap lines. Ambition anyone?.

4 Episode 1: A New Hope

The film that launched a thousand dreams. This is one of the most iconic movies in history, and certainly the most important sci-fi film. This is the film that made me love cinema and writing. A great movie with a fabulous villain. On re-watch, it does drag a bit when we reach the Deathstar and Leia’s rescue, the garbage crusher and the escape. But the finale is outstanding. And it’s the first time we see a lightsaber!

3 Episode 7: The Force Awakens

We don’t have an iconic baddy to call upon, nor do we have a deathstar to attack, but we do have BB8, Ray and Finn. A nostalgic and pulse-racing romp. A lesson on how to reignite a franchise. Certainly not perfect, but every frame is crambed with love.

2 Episode 2: The Empire Strikes Back

Well, tickle my Tauntaun and call me Terry, it’s not number one! Some brilliant moments. Who can forget the AT-AYTs crushing through the snow. The first time we meet Yoda, and the Besbin duel between Luke and Vader. Not to mention the truly harrowing carbonite scene. Empire is not just a great Star Wars film, but a great film. For some reason, I always found the asteroid stuff unconvincing and the stuff on Degobah a little dull.

1 Episode 3: Return Of The Jedi

Originally penned as Revenge Of The Jedi, this film has it all. A semi-naked Leia, a great baddy inJabba. The moment when R2-D2 fires Luke’s lightsaber at him, as Luke jumps off the plank over the Sarlack pit is great. This is the film when Luke becomes a Jedi; his fight with Vader is both terrifying and brilliant, and the space battle is still amazing. We can forgive the Ewoks, because everything else is wonderful. Yub-Yub!

Nostalgia

Sometimes nostalgia is a lie we tell ourselves, an oft repeated tale that, told often enough, becomes true. This is particularly relevent at this time of year, when we look back at the glimmerings of Christmas past, and remind ourselves that nostalgia is sometimes true, and more often than not, lovely. I remember Christmas as a child; I remember it always being cold, frost and ice painting a delicate silver tracery. I remember Christmas eve, the ritual of visiting neighbours, Mrs Thurlow and Betty, and Mr and Mrs Bennett. I remember my the delicious smell of my mum’s cooking. Her mince pies, sausage rolls and roast pork. I remember the mounting warmth, the magical excitement, not being able to sleep, wishing for tomorrow and waking-up ridiculously early. I remember the splendid tree, the multitude of presents, the honest joy. The ritual of gift giving,’ my dad dishing them out one by one. Christmas was always a special and wonderful time for us. My parents always did what they could to make it special. Of course, in reality, not every Christmas was great, but nostalgia neatly edits reality for us, and provides us with a special memory that still invokes that bright warmth within us. As an adult Christmas isn’t the same, but if you look hard enough you can still find magic. Sadly I no longer get Star Wars figures and lego, and I don’t completely believe in Father Christmas. But I do believe in the spirit of the season, in the possibility of gratitude and the plausability of hope. As I write this, my dog is sleeping by my feet. There is a candle burning and a Christmas tree twinkling. In comparison to my childhood, these are but shadows of the great tree, the decorations, the colour., none of which I can see any more. But in my head the lights are bright, the decorations cheerful, the grass brittle with snow. I doubt I’m getting toys this year, but whatever Father Christmas brings me, it will be appreciated. Whatever you’re getting for Christmas, no matter how big or small, enjoy it, for one day it will make up the landscape of memory. 

Disability in a galaxy far, far, away…

There is a long tradition of blind martial artists throughout history and folklore. In fact, some practitioners of combat arts train blind folded in order to improve their reflexes and self-awareness. It seems that the tradition of the blind warrior has reached a galaxy far, far away. In Disney’s latest blockbuster, the eagerly anticipated Rogue One, we are to be treated to a blind, force sensitive monk, played by the Hong Kong born actor, Donnie Yen.

With the franchise reaching out to a wider audience, its creative helmswoman, Kathleen Kennedy is actively seeking to widen the diversity of the characters we see on our screens. At first glance the inclusion of a blind character seems a welcome and positive addition. However, during a panel hosted by Twitter, Donnie Yen spoke of the difficulties he faced in shooting the film. This was put down largely to the contact lenses he wore. He said that the fighting was Ok, but it was difficult to connect with the other actors. All fair enough so far. But, he then went on to say that he didn’t want to look like a robotic blind guy.

This is when we meet a minor problem. Some may consider his comments offensive, others may consider them simply ill advised. But my personal issues are with casting. Surely diversity goes further than character and plot, race and gender. Surely for diversity to really work it has to encompass the cast too. That means employing a blind actor to play a blind character. Is a sighted person wearing lenses to “look blind” any different to a white person “blackening-up” to play a black character? Or an able bodied actor sitting in a wheelchair to play a character who can’t walk?

As someone who is blind, and as someone who has both acted and has many years of martial arts experience under my belt (pick a colour!) surely with the vast budget, resources and reach Star Wars enjoys, they could have sought out a blind actor to play the role. There are many blind actors and a number of blind martial artists. Given enough time and training I’m sure one of them could put in a convincing performance.

We have to ask ourselves what is more important, having an amazing martial artist who is fully sighted, playing a blind man, fearing he’ll look like a robotic blind guy, or a blind guy, being authentic and genuine, playing a blind warrior. I know what I’d rather see.

It seems that diversity applies to race and sex, but not impairment. If a blind person had been casted, this would have been a wonderful boon, both for disability rights and the Star Wars franchise, one that I love. After all, Star Wars has a long an honourable tradition of introducing unknown or inexperienced actors to the world. Wouldn’t it be amazing if they had used this opportunity to give a role to a blind actor.

May the force be with you.

Into the edging place

Date: Friday 27th January 2017

Venue: Art Gallery, Lichfield Street

Show: 6.20pm – 7.20pm

Tickets: Free Entry

BJ Edwards performs a selection of poems from his recently published collection, Tesserae. Experience tales of love, life and loss, myth and mystery.

Go into the green woods where the secrets lurk. Watch the fool rant at the moon. Experience the fever of delirium, the pain of parting, and the ecstasy of desire.

http://www.bjedwards.co.uk/poetry

Writing blind

As I write these words I have a rather mechanical voice spilling from a pair of earphones, into my ears, into my brain, into my mind. Every word I am writing is echoed, as if a tiny, persistent and very annoying creature is doing his best to win a childish bet. But, without this voice, this sentence would probably be very different, if written at all. I am a totally blind writer, I rely upon clever pieces of software to allow me to scatter my ideas and commit them to hard drive and ultimately to paper.

As I sit here, I contemplate my latest book, Tesserae, a collection of poems. When it was published I decided to have the poems collected in chronological, rather than thematic order. This, for me makes interesting reading. The collection provides me with an emotional and intellectual journey as the poems seem to track my “sight loss” without me realising it.

Poetry reflects the essence of what it is to be a person. A poem is a fragment, a shard of the poet’s soul. A poem is inspired by a feeling, a moment, a thing. Poetry, for me, is the mirror and the lamp. A self contained universe, a micro story wherein lurks a glimpse of the inner landscape. When the last of my eyesight decided to abandon me in around 2012,I was scared. Not only because of the many minor and not so minor practical considerations, but because I thought it would change and dictate how and what I write. When I look at my work, the poems I wrote post 2012, I see something interesting. The poems are richer, more visceral. They erupt with sensual spirit and vigour. Yes, they lack the classic elements – the salute to beautiful and marvellous sunsets and landscapes, but they have another kind of essence, a cleaner, neater truth.

Writing is about connecting, it is about expressing feelings. As a writer, I want the reader to feel what I felt. To feel what I want my characters to feel as they go on their journey. In the past I wrote without Jaws, my screen reading software. Instead, I used a giant font and listened to music whilst I wrote or edited. The music anchored me, kept me present, kept me company during long night time vigils at the keyboard. But, for the last few years, I have only had the moment – a capsule of space, me, laptop, earphones locked together in a technological waltz. Now, I have no distractions, no visual input for my brain to process. I can construct my reality without the “real” world impinging. Sitting here, I know what’s around me; a painting of stone henge, a painting of some ancient cave art. A replica Saxon helmet, ornaments, a coat stand. I know what’s here, but not precisely. This ambiguity allows my imagination to thrive. When I am out I have a good idea of what’s around me, but in unfamiliar places my imagination fills in the blanks and furnishes me with a tapestry of surreal vibrancy.

Being blind isn’t fun. Editing is a chore, making things that I have never seen seem real is a challenge. But writing blind is liberating. I am not constrained by anybody else’s mood music but my own. I listen hard, I write good dialogue. My words are my own, the feelings I have are mine to pass on. The poems I now write are brighter because of the lack of light, my internal sight sharper because reality can no longer blunt it.