Rob Wickings's Blog, page 56

Two Careful Owners

Mike Tack goes for the throat in his latest urban horror short.     

We’re fans of film-maker Mike Tack here at Excuses And Half Truths. He channels a love for horror and an inventive streak a mile wide into the creation of films with a very distinctive look and feel. His latest, Two Careful Owners, a sequel to fan favourite One Careful Owner, is rolling out to festivals this summer. He was kind enough to let me have a review copy, and to have a bit of a chat about urban splatterpunk, working with a less-than-zero budget and how to document the violent application of hammer to kneecap…

Keith Eyles: handsome devil.

Rob: Mike, Two Careful Owners shows a new level of sophistication in its cutting style, look and of course, the gore FX. What was the setup for this one? Any particular challenges?

Mike: Well the sophistication comes mainly from equipment changes and becoming more familiar with the whole process. I now have a DSLR – One Careful Owner was shot on my iPhone4 in 720p! I invested in a cheap Canon 600D and a Manfrotto fluid head tripod – I used to use a flimsy Velbon £30 tripod which was awful.

I agree, the look is much improved. I used my DSLR on a yet unreleased film to get some practice in. I had to learn about Magic Lantern, how to use the bloody camera and how to render out the correct quality. So I have had a really steep learning curve. I still don’t think I have mastered it yet but I am getting there.

The Chiropodist prepares…

The cutting style is evolving like all my other filmmaking skills. I guess I have learned to shoot more coverage than you need as it can get you out of a hole in the edit. I did list the shots beforehand on an Excel sheet which really helped as you can often miss stuff in the heat of a shoot.

The Gore fx are brilliantly realistic as ever, thanks to my partner in death Tim Richards. Tim really steps up when I give him my ideas for the violence I want to shoot! He is so artistic in nature that he makes my life relatively easy. Although the knee and foot gags did present me with some challenges. Just try filming a stone foot with sandal straps and make it look convincing!

Rob: What made you decide to revisit the characters and setup of One Careful Owner?

Richard Nock: bulldozer fury

Mike: Well I really feel that I want to stretch my legs and make a feature so I had my eye on developing one. But I had a brainwave one lunchtime and said to myself, “what if Chris Lee gets interrupted when trying to kill Pete at the end of One Careful Owner?” I then brainstormed it and felt really motivated to explore more of the character and the theme of vengeance. Plus I really enjoyed Richard Nock’s bulldozer fury at the injustice he had to suffer.

Rob: Bulldozer frenzy is an accurate description! Rich Nock is very convincing as the lead character, Chris Lee. How did you tease that performance out of him?

Mike: I didn’t have to do any teasing at all – Richard is a psycho! Seriously though, Richard nailed the character from the word go – he gave me a very easy job.

Richard and I worked on the script I had written and seeing as I am pretty weak on the spoken dialogue, Richard was invaluable. So that’s why he and I co-wrote the screenplay. We both have a similar sense of humour so we both contributed sarcastic one liners for Keith Eyles to enjoy in his monologues.

Confrontation: Keith and Richard square off.

Rob: What’s next for Apocalyptic Conservatory Studios?

Mike: Lots! we have a Turn Your Bloody Phone Off ident for the Frightfest 2014 festival which will be screening outside the competition – we won last year with our Phoneraiser ident.

I entered a short called Zombie Hunter in the Short Cuts From Hell competition and as luck would have it we made the final 26 which means a VOD release and a screening on the Horror Channel. I’ve submitted a feature length pitch as part of being one of the 26 finalists, so if we make the final 3 I am in with a chance of some decent funding to make my 1st feature which would be amazing.

Last but not least 2 CAREFUL OWNERS is getting great reviews and the World Premiere will be hosted at the prestigious MILE HIGH HORROR film festival in Denver, USA this October. So it’s all go at the moment. Looking towards the end of the year, I will be releasing my Halloween EC comic inspired short THE ALLOTMENT once I have the soundtrack completed by my stepson Kyle Parke.

Richard: the calm before the storm

As you can see, Mike is always full of ideas and enthusiasm, and is pushing hard to make his bloody dreams come true. Great news about both the Mile High Horror and Short Cuts From Hell gigs, don’t you think? If you get a chance to check out Two Careful Owners, do so: it’s gritty, brutal splatter with a harsh urban edge. Unlike the man behind it, who’s just an incredibly lovely person. Just goes to show: horror people get all their demons out on screen.

Soul Food

I have an old and slightly crummy barbecue,  that I converted into a smoker yesterday.

It’s rare that I use the barbie these days. For the most part,  I’m only cooking for two,  and it’s pointless blowing a bag of coals for a couple of steaks. With a little care and attention, though, I could be doling out big planks of hot-smoked salmon and Texan barbecue with aplomb. 

It takes more time to fix up an old barbie than you might think,  so by the time I’d finished installing the thermometer and doing general cleanup, I realised that I didn’t have time to get anything smoking. But by then I had a real hankering for some grilled flesh. To me, my griddle pan.  We’s gonna cook up some chicken.

I’d spotted an article on Boing Boing about You Tube chef Sista Girl,  and her sweary, unconventional approach.  She’s great, you should check her out. I was especially taken with her way with marinading chicken, which she does while the pieces are still frozen. It shouldn’t work, but somehow it does, and it’s a great shortcut if you forget to take the chook out of the freezer the night before you need it.  Check it out…

(very NSFW: did I mention the swears? )

Inspired, I snagged some boneless chicken thighs from the icebox, and added some flavours: a spicy South African braai mix that’s easily copied at home (chili powder, paprika, cumin, coriander and garlic powder should see you right) along with dark soy,  balsamic vinegar and honey. Mix in a ziplok bag, I allowed them to defrost while distorting myself in a completely self-indulgent manner in the garden.

Ok, let’s cook. I heated the grill and did the sides while it was coming up to speed. I tried out a new rice mix from Gallo as a bit of an experiment. It’s a mix of risotto rice,  spelt and pearl barley. Cooked in boiling water for 20 minutes gives a sticky but toothsome result. I used energy wisely and steamed a couple of corn cobs over the rice.

By the time the rice and veg were done, the grill was ready to go. On went the defrosted, marinaded chicken, five minutes a side or until there are sexy grill lines on each side. While I was at it, the cooked corn went onto the griddle to get some char and flavour. Serving was a snap: a pile of rice, chicken on top, corn on the side.

Good summer eating. Accompany with a cold beer and some sweet soul music.

The Blake-easy!

https://excusesandhalftruths.files.wordpress.com/2014/07/blakeseasy-part-1.m4a

https://excusesandhalftruths.files.wordpress.com/2014/07/blakeseasy-part-2.m4a

The climax of Blake’s 7 Month on Excuses And Half Truths: our gigantic (no kidding, I’ve had to split it in half) retrospect-o-view of the classic British SF show. Join Clive and I, along with Speakeasy regular Keith Eyles and friend of the blog Chris Rogers as we look at the characters, costumes, production values, themes and soooo much more.

Settle in, Listenership. We’re heading for Galactic Edge with this one…

Crock-pot ‘Barbecue’ Pork

There's been a lot of talk about Blake's 7 recently. It's made me real hungry.

We're deep into meat season. The sun is high, the weather is hot, and all over the country people are burning sausages on the barbecue. Tempting as that might be (and don't get me wrong, I enjoy a nice steak fresh of the griddle as much as any other red-blooded Englishman) my thoughts have of late wandered towards the American style of barbecue—meat cooked long and slow in a big-ass smoker.

Now, my barbecue can double as a smoker, and I've invested in a thermometer so's I can start experimenting with pork shoulder and thick planks of salmon. But for now, I'm going with the spirit of the meal rather than the methodology. Pork loin cooked slow and low in a crock-pot with a ton of aromatics should satisfy my cravings.

Loin is a tender cut of meat that's surprisingly versatile. Cooked as a traditional roast, you'll get beautiful slices of flavoursome flesh. But cook it slowly with plenty of liquid to stop it drying out, and you end up with meat that falls into delicious shreds at the touch of a fork. If the sauce you've cooked it in gives you that sweet Southern flavour, then so much the better.

Start with your bit of pig. A half-kilo joint should feed four… or a greedy Rob and TLC. Dry it well, then poke it all over with a sharp knife. Widen the slits out to form little pockets, and shove a clove of skinned garlic into each one. I reckon on seven cloves.

Now give it a coating of wet rub. Pound together a tablespoon of fennel and cumin seeds (or blitz in a coffee grinder you keep just for spices) along with some salt, then stir in a tablespoon of paprika. Sweet or spicy, your call. A teaspoon of chili powder for kick, then add enough oil to form a thick slurry. Spoon this over the pork (if you've done it right, it won't pour) and massage in thoroughly. Give it some love. Now in the fridge for as long as you can stand it. A couple of hours is fine, but overnight if you can.

Time for the pot. I have a crappy cheap red crock pot that cost me a fiver in Tesco years ago. It's the perfect fit for this kind of thing. The lid has been broken and glued back together, and it's generally a bit tired and worn. But it serves me well for slow-cooked meat. Into L'il Red goes a sliced red onion that I've cooked off on the griddle, the juice of an orange, a tablespoon of balsamic vinegar and 200ml or so of tomato passata.

You have a griddle still hot from the onions, so use it just to brown the meat on all sides, which'll also start helping the fat to render away. Once sizzly-gold, snug your meat into the sauce, then pour over half a bottle (about 250ml) of a good dark ale. I used Ruddles County, because that's what I had. Hobgoblin or something similar would work really well too. Finishing touch: a little honey over the top of the meat.

Sounds good already, don't it? OK, into the oven. 130 degrees fan for 4 hours. Set a timer. Walk away. Go mow the lawn. Let the magic happen. If you're super-paranoid, set a timer for two hours, peek just to make sure it's not drying out, then reset for two hours and go tickle your wife or something. Trust me, though, it'll be fine.

After four hours, put the oven up to 200C for 45 mins to an hour, to let the sauce thicken and for a light crust to develop on top of the meat. Keep the lid on the pot, though, or there's a danger of burnination, and we don't want that after the amazing smells that have been developing over the afternoon. While the oven's hot, you can make the accompaniment: grown-up tater tots. Chop a couple of baking potatoes into inch-thick cubes, toss them in a little oil with a pack of lardons or chunked-up pancetta, and cook in the oven for, as fate would have it, 45 minutes to an hour. It's almost like there was a plan here or something.

Finally, *finally*, it's eatin' time. Take the meat from the pot, and try carving. You'll find it'll succumb to the knife like a girl in a horror film, falling apart tenderly at the first touch of the blade. Plate a pile of the pork alongside the tater tots, with something green and leafy on the side. Spoon over some of the sweet, sticky sauce, and pop a couple of ladlefuls in a jug to have with the meal.

This is deeply satisfying stuff: fragrant, juicy and moreish. Remember the garlic we stuffed into the pork all those hours ago? That's melted, effectively, flavouring the meat even further. With the wet rub adding a cumin/aniseed waft to the pork, it's barbecue fit for the gods.

If you have leftovers, then things get even better. Dress the meat in what remains of the sauce, and you have pulled pork to pile into buns, or serve with rice or noodles. God dammit, I'm hungry again.

Tweaks? Well, I'm kicking myself for not using the smoked garlic I have to stuff into the pork. If you change the rub up with five-spice and coriander seed, and add soy rather than balsamic to the sauce, you have something verging more on a sweet and sour (if you're going to try that, though, add some rice wine vinegar to get the tartness).

This is low-work, no-fuss cooking that's great for a quiet Sunday—a meal that lets you get on with other stuff and rewards you at the end of the day. Now that, Readership, is what I call soul food.

 

 

Recasting Blake’s 7

Last week we looked at the notion of a Blake’s 7 reboot, and I gave my version of what it could look like. But who would we cast in a B7 for the 21st century?

It’s a tricky one. Blake and Avon change significantly through the course of the series. Blake becomes much more driven, becoming fanatical and almost monomaniacal in his thirst for revenge against the Federation. Meanwhile Avon, always King of the Nerds, becomes the alpha male of the group.

Our very own Leading Man, Clive Ashenden gives us his thoughts on the subject…

 

Blake – Idris Elba

Why? Believable as a charismatic rebel leader who can unite a disparate and fractious crew. He can also do tortured nobility in his sleep (see ‘Luther’) and would be a great stylistic contrast to to Avon.

(Rob adds: The ‘Luther’ comparison is a good one. He’s not averse to hanging villains off bridges to get what he wants, after all…)

 

Avon – Benedict Cumberbatch

Why? It maybe almost too on the nose, this casting. The initial series one characterisation of Avon as a computer genius who pursues his own agenda and isn’t good with people – is very similar to a certain Baker Street based detective. His ability to land an barbed comment or acid retort is unrivalled.

(Rob adds: let’s not forget his turn as Khan in Star Trek: Into Darkness. A complex character whose loyalty is constantly changing–at least, to our eyes. Under it all, he has his own agenda.)

Vila – Rory Kinnear

Why? He may be better known for his more serious roles, but as an actor he’s no stranger to comic business on stage and on TV (‘Count Arthur Strong’). Can anchor the crew in a similar way that Michael Keating did in the original.

(Rob adds: Vila isn’t just the comic relief, and this is a great opportunity to give the great survivor of the group some dramatic meat).

Jenna – Gemma Arterton

Why? A better actress than she sometimes gets credit for (see ‘Byzantium’), she can also do the action-heroine thing to ensure this Jenna remains a female Han Solo rather than getting stuck with the Liberator den-mother role.

(Rob adds: viewers of the otherwise-dreadful Prince Of Persia will note that our Gemma has action-movie creds, and I agree with Clive that she’s more than capable of swashing a buckle or two.)

Cally – Andrea Riseborough

 

Why? Great actress (‘Oblivion’; ‘Shadow Dancer’) who could bring out the telepathic alien side of Cally, as well as the cool, driven and brittle guerilla fighter.

Gan – Bryan Larkin

 

Why? Man-mountain lead of ‘Outpost; Rise of the Spetsnaz’ with enough screen presence and acting chops to do more with the tragic backstory and brain-inhibitor stuff.

(Rob adds: a left-field choice here. Not familiar with the actor, but Gan was always under-used, and it would be fascinating to see more made of a clearly damaged warrior who has lost the ability to fight.)

Zen/Orac – Peter Serafinowicz

 

Why? Already a veteran of video game voice work as well as an accomplished comedian and comic actor. Zen would be no problem at all, but I’d be really curious to see what he could do with Orac – maybe something different to the prissy character we’re familiar with?

(Rob adds: a true chameleon, about to become well known to global audiences as the Nova Corpsman who dismisses the Guardians Of The Galaxy as “a bunch of a-holes.” His skills in impersonation are well known: Orac as Paul McCartney, perhaps?)

Servalan – Keeley Hawes

 

Why? Glamorous? Check. Capable of bringing both humour and menace? Check and check. It looks like we may get to see her play a real villainess in the new series of ‘Doctor Who’, but making Servalan more than just evil would surely be an irresistable challenge.

(Rob adds: spot on casting here. Keeley Hawes as Servalan brings a touch of class, and a villainess with depth and power. To play the part, you need an actress who you believe could rule the galaxy with an iron fist. I buy Keeley Hawes totally here.)

Travis I – Daniel Mays

Why? See his work in ‘Ashes to Ashes’ and you’ll note how he’s good at bringing surprising things to characters who could be one-note villians. Also – good chemistry with Keeley Hawes (again see ‘Ashes to Ashes’)

Travis II – Keith Eyles

Why? See our Blake’s 7 podcast for evidence of his clear affinity with this character…

 

 

(Rob adds: that’s still to come, of course. I have no problem with either casting (and I can really see Keith in leather and an eye-patch) but a couple of alternate suggestions to spring to mind here. How about:

Tom Burke…

 

and Andrew Scott?

 

or while we’re at it, why not play around and gender-switch the character?

Karen Gillen

and Natalie Dormer, anyone?

 

anyway, I digress. Carry on, Clive.)

 

My alternative re-casting would be to go YA with the Liberator crew and cast much younger. eg. Jennifer Lawrence as a gender-switched Blake.

(Rob interrupts: ooh ooh, yes. An all-female cast! Kirsten Stewart as Avon! Anna Kendrick as Vila! Screw it, let’s blow the budget. Angelina Jolie as Servalan!)

Rob breaks the fourth wall:

As you can see, Readership, recasting Blake’s 7 is one of those pub conversations that rapidly spirals out of control. I have plenty of other suggestions that spring to mind… but what would be your dream cast? Hit us up in the comments, and don’t forget to listen out for the podcast that started all this off.

Coming soon…

 

 

 

Blake’s 7: The Next Generation

In talking and thinking about Blake’s 7, you can’t help but wonder what a reboot would look like. There have been several aborted attempts to get the show back on the small screen, with Sky, Syfy and Microsoft’s Xbox Channel all enthusiastically ordering and then un-ordering seasons. Battlestar Galactica is a great example of a reconsidered universe, and that’s the example that everyone wants to emulate. But how would you do it? Well, I’ve had a few ideas…

Blake’s 7: The Next Generation

in which we explore the bits of the B7 universe that kind of got swept under the carpet…

The Federation is a benevolent, inclusive democracy. Her citizens, spread across hundreds of worlds and thousands of light-years, enjoy a peaceful and fulfilling life where all their needs and wants are met, where they can be the people that they truly wish to be. There is no crime. There is no poverty.

At least, that’s what the Federation has drugged its citizens into believing. Calming agents in the water. Soporifics in the air. Every psychometric trick in the book is used to ensure that the Federation never meets any sort of resistance. Why would you rebel against a perfect life—even if it’s just in your head?

Meet Roj Blake. A senior supervisor in Federation Control, and one of the few to know the truth: that the Federation is not the force for good that its citizens believe. People are worked until they drop, but do so cheerfully, content in the sure and certain knowledge that they are happy.

Blake is not a nice person. He makes sure that the model fits, even if he has to hammer it into place. His job is to find the half-percent of Federation citizens who are immune to the cocktail of drugs and indoctrination, the potential threats. They’re called Clears, and the reason that Blake does what he does is because he’s one himself. He can see through the faked bliss, the flick of the eye that betrays what a Clear is really feeling. The thing is, he believes in what he does. He honestly thinks that he’s doing it for the greater good. He’s a zealot, a true believer in the cause of peace by any means.

But Blake the enforcer runs into problems. An operation he runs on the Saturn colonies goes hideously wrong, and people die. Lots of people die. The Federation needs a scapegoat, and Blake has outlived his usefulness. He’s put out to dry: a show trial condemns him as a paedophile terrorist with a homicidal tendency a mile wide. His wife and children refuse to see him. His life collapses around him, and the scales fall from his eyes. Blake realises that he’s been as much of a dupe as the citizens upon which he predated.

He’s not protected. He’s disposable.

As a sop to his service with the Federation, he isn’t sentenced to death. Instead, he’s given a life-plus-twenty jag on the prison world of Cygnus Alpha. The transport leaves an hour after the trial finishes. Blake is wiped off the world like chalk off a board.

On the ship, Blake meets more of the people he has been defending the Federation against. Jenna Stannis, a pilot and smuggler. Space-born, she’s never needed to set foot on a Federation world for long enough to allow the loyalty measures to take hold. With her is her co-pilot, Gan, the muscle, with the quick mind of a hostage negotiator. Together they have talked their way through trade blockades and out of arrest by customs ships. Until now, that is. One over-zealous border guard gets greedy, and Jenna and Gan end up as prisoners—fresh meat for Cygnus Alpha.

The trio are quickly glommed onto by Vila, a skilled cut-purse whose moral inadequacies and low cunning mean that conditioning never sticks. He’s too much of a survivor to believe the hype. He also sees in Blake, Gan and Jenna safety and security on a barge full of murderous lifers. Gan sees something he likes in the quick-witted little pick-pocket, and the two are soon fast friends.

Blake soon makes an enemy: Kerr Avon, AI specialist and network rider: a thief who trades in data. He lives his life by two rules: survival is key, and anything that stands in the way of that is a barrier to be dodged or broken. The two take an instant dislike to each other. They’re too alike for their own good.

The prison ship London, en route to Cygnus Alpha, flies into the middle of a battle between Federation pursuit ships and… something that is not on the resource libraries. It destroys the Earth craft, but is heavily damaged. The ship’s captain, smelling a healthy bounty, decides to send a salvage crew across. Why waste valuable crew members when he has holding bays full of the condemned? He makes his choice: the disgraced ex-Federation officer, the girl smuggler and the computer geek. If anything happens to them, it’s no loss to anyone.

The alien ship is vast and silent, strangely shaped but clearly very powerful. Tethered to a line and rappelled across, Blake, Jenna and Avon can see heavy battle damage. The scars of combat seem to be disappearing as they watch. As the three close on the hatch they see the cause: a swarm of tiny insect-like machines that heal the ship’s wounds astonishingly quickly.

They enter the ship. Cathedral-like with seemingly endless corridors, it’s an eerie place. The three agree on one thing: it feels as if they’re being watched.

And also guided. The find themselves in a high-vaulted space that has to be a command centre and flight deck. Control stations surround a ten-foot wide globe, made from a marbled material that seems to swirl as they look at it. Jenna checks out the main flight units. They seem strangely familiar, and she swears that they change configuration under her fingers. One thing’s for sure—she’s quickly certain that she can fly the ship.

Suddenly, the three hear a voice: flat, unaccented and in their heads. The globe brightens, lines and dots of light flaring across the surface in time with the calm tones of the ship. For the globe is the access node for the great alien craft, voice-activated, allowing every aspect of its operation to be controlled with a single command. It knows Jenna, Avon and Blake’s names. In a limited sense, it can read their minds.

It calls itself Xen. And it plucks a new name for the craft out of Jenna’s thoughts: LIBERATOR. Jenna shrugs. It’s appropriate—the Liberator is their ticket off the death sentence awaiting at Cygnus Alpha. Carefully, she breaks the connection with the London, moves the ship out of range. The temptation is to run, but Jenna needs her co-pilot and, as she points out to a seething Blake, she’s the one flying the ship.

They follow the London to Cygnus Alpha. Blake and Avon, geeking hard, explore the ship. They find weapons, communication bracelets. Looking for a shuttle on which to make planetfall, they find something even better: a teleport. The Federation have been working on experimental bi-locators for years, but their best results have turned test subjects inside out or cooked them whole. The Liberator’s teleport looks well-used. Blake risks it, and Xen puts him onto the wilderness world of Cygnus Alpha.

The planet has gone rogue. The guards of Cygnus Alpha have devolved into petty-colonial demagogues, using the deliveries that regularly arrive as slave labour… and food. Blake is captured, and only escapes thanks to Gan and Vila, who use their skills to sweet-talk the guards into a trap and break out. In a fit of rage, Blake slaughters the leaders, telling the prisoners of Cygnus they are free to live their own lives. He, Gan and Vila teleport away, leaving the shattered colony to pick up the pieces. Blake feels his actions are justified: after all, there wouldn’t be room for everyone on the ship. But, as Gan reminds him, he hasn’t saved Cygnus Alpha. He may have just replaced one hell with another.

This moral ambiguity is at the heart of my vision for the show. Blake is no hero. He’s driven by revenge: he wants to see the Federation fall not because they are a dictatorship, but because they have destroyed his life. But because he knows the Federation, because he knows many of the secrets the regime would like to keep quiet, he persuades the others to stick with him. They become revolutionaries as they see the true shape of the Federation’s rule, but the heart of their mission is Blake’s black, cold thirst for payback. His missions frequently leave behind worlds more damaged than when he arrived.

As they harry the Federation forces, attracting the attention of Head Of Security Servalan and her cyborg sidekick T.R.A.V.I.S (Track, Recon, Appropriate, Verify, Interrogate, Silence) it becomes clear that the Federation is hiding something big. A secret that involves an alien species called the Auron (one of whose number, a telepath called Cally, joins the crew as a keen resistance fighter) and an AI called ORAC. ORAC controls the Federation’s defence systems, which seem ridiculously over-specced for an empire whose citizens are uninterested in rebellion.

The awful truth becomes clear: The Federation is at war. They keep the citizenry drugged to quiescence to save them from the truth. They are barely holding the line against an implacable enemy from the distant galaxy of Andromeda—the civilisation that built the Liberator. Worse, the Aurons are agents for that civilisation, using their telepathic powers to worm their way into the heart of power. Cally, too, is a traitor, guided by the Auron to retake the ship. For the Liberator is the flagship of the Andromedan fleet, and the only craft that is possibly able to beat back a full assault.

As the battle lines are drawn, Blake and his crew find that there are greater enemies than the Federation, and that war brings about strange alliances. As war tears the galaxy and everything Blake believes in apart, he finds he has only one choice: fight.

There’s my outline. But how would you cast it? Coming up, our thoughts on who could be the new crew of the Liberator…

Blake’s 7 Month

Next month’s Speakeasy is our longest yet, and it’s the very definition of nerdgasm–a three hour exploration of seventies SF classic Blake’s 7.

Wait, where are you going? Some shows are worth the effort, and Blake’s 7 merits a deep-cut exploration. The show is one that’s divided people for many years. Fans remember it fondly as a morally ambiguous, darkly political show that showed how rebels can be as damaged as the regimes they seek to overthrow. Critics, however, can only see a screamingly camp, wildly derivative piece of schlock with shoddy, wobbly sets, terrible costumes and awful special effects.

Well, here’s the thing. Blake’s 7 is both. It’s a show that no-one can really successfully agree on, because over its four seasons it tried to be so many different things.

With the benefit of hindsight, trying to make wide-screen space opera on a cop-show budget is always going to be problematic. That was a hurdle that Blake’s 7 never successfully cleared. It’s cheap-looking, stagy, slow-paced and worryingly sexist. Mind you, the limitations of the production techniques of the time are as much to blame for that as any flaws in the writing or acting.

It’s also a show that was unafraid to take risks, regularly killing off central characters and putting women front and centre as star pilots, gunfighters and the President of the Federation. It also, famously, destroyed the spacecraft that served as one of its most iconic images. Star Trek wouldn’t try that until the third movie, well after the original series. Brave, certainly. Foolish? Well, the show’s notoriously uneven final season provides plenty of evidence that the destruction of the Liberator was a blow from which the show never recovered. The title character of the show is absent for 20 episodes. Blake’s 7 is not a show that does things by the numbers.

It’s very easy, once you start rewatching the show (and the whole thing is available for your viewing pleasure on YouTube) to find both astonishingly shabby writing, plot holes you could fly a Federation pursuit ship through and scenery-chewing at Brian Blessed level (especially when Brian Blessed is in an episode). But, at the same time, you can find heartfelt, intelligent and exciting work from writers, directors and actors who knew what it took to get the best out of a budget that was screwed to the floor in terms of both money and time. Binge-watching the show is an exercise in frustration, unexpected (and probably unintentional) humour and jaw-dropping non-sequiturs. But when everything comes together, when that cliffhanger bites or it looks like the end for the crew, there’s just something about Blake’s 7 that keeps pulling you back.

There have been rumours of remakes and reimaginings for years. Respected action director Martin Campbell is enthusiastic in his support for the franchise. Done right, Blake’s 7 could do a Battlestar Galactica, transcend it’s past and become a new modern classic. Here at Excuses And Half Truths, we’re fans of the show despite (or possibly because of) its shortcomings.

In the buildup to our epic Speakeasy at the end of the month, welcome, Readership, to Blake’s 7 month.

Chef: satisfying the hunger for a good food movie

The problem with food movies is that they are fundamentally incapable of expressing the two most important things about their subject: smell and taste. Don't mention Smell-O-Vision. A scratch and sniff card can no more evoke a beautifully cooked plateful of food than a kazoo can accurately reproduce Beethoven's Ninth. The end results are the same: faintly amusing but not the experience you want.

That's probably why there have been so few films explicitly about the subject. And of course, they can't just be about food–as much as I enjoy the M&S adverts, I couldn't sit through 90 minutes of them. All the good food movies deal with those aspects of the human condition that we most readily connect with food: love, sex and family. Look at Babette's Feast, where a woman expresses gratitude for the community that has taken her in by cooking them an extraordinary banquet. Or Big Night, a film that tracks the struggle for supremacy between two feuding brothers, which culminates in a remarkable wordless climax where they cook breakfast together. Tampopo contains one of the sexiest scenes featuring an egg yolk that you'll ever see.

Jon Favreau, he of Iron Man and presidential speech-writing fame, has taken a risk with Chef, his latest movie. Food films don't do well at the box office, for the reasons I've mentioned above. But Chef is first and foremost a film about the sacrifices that a really good cook will make to get to the top, and what happens when he's forced to reinvent himself–a process that reconnects him with the things he holds dearest.

OK, Cliffe Notes (and note that from this point, a SPOILER ALERT is in operation). Favreau plays Carl Casper, a top chef who feels as if he's stuck in a rut. It's a feeling that's starting to come out in his cooking. He's filling the house every night, and his boss is happy. But the reviews are stinkers, and Casper is starting to lose his way. After a cake-crushing meltdown in front of his food critic nemesis, Casper buys a ratty old food truck, and goes back to basics, cooking and selling the food he loved back in the day. With his estranged son and buddy line chef in tow, Casper sets off on a road trip that takes in some of America's culinary hotspots, and finds the flavour in life again.

So, it's a bit on the nose from an elevator pitch. But Chef works, for me, because it's good on the details. Favreau spent months in restaurant kitchens, working his way up from herb-chopping to line work. The restaurant scenes feel authentic and sharply observed, down to the way Casper cleans down his station att the end of a shift. Favreau enlisted the help of food truck maestro Roy Choi and Texas barbecue pit king Aaron Franklin to give his film some old-school patina. That's Choi's Cubano that everyone's talking about, and Mitchell serves fall-apart pork shoulder just like the one in the movie every day.

The clever thing about Chef is the way it dials into modern trends in food fandom. Food trucks and real-deal meat-smoking are obsessions with many foodies. Favreau also nails the importance of social networking to the scene: Instagram and Twitter are the way a lot of people initially hear about the hot places to eat, whether that be a Michelin-starred joint or a high-sider on a street corner pushing out the greatest food you can get on a paper plate. Let's also note here that Casper's meltdown is sparked off by a food blogger, not a traditional critic.

Chef is a deeply sensual, warm and funny film, with a great soundtrack of classic Cuban cuts, reggae and blues and solid performances from Favreau and his supporting cast. John Leguziamo buzzes and pops as Casper's line chef buddy, and Emjay Anthony, playing his son, is sweet and charming. I thought it was a shame that Scarlett Johannsen and Dustin Hoffman seem to disappear once Casper gets his food truck (which is a lust object in and of itself: that chrome! that griddle!) and that we didn't see more of Carl's life pre-restaurant in Miami. Where does that love of Cuban food come from? Maybe a director's cut is in the offing. Anyway, I wanted to see more, which has to be a good thing.

With the long-mooted adaptation of chef Anthony Bourdain's autobiographical/crime novel Bone In The Throat finally looking like it's going in front of cameras, there's a chance we could be seeing more interesting movies set in the world of food. On the evidence of Chef, I'd be happy to see more. The film has the highest of accolades from me–TLC and I left the cinema absolutely starving hungry.

 

Rob’s Dirty Rice

There's nothing wrong with plain, simple white rice. It's calming, pure, and my accompaniment of choice to most meals. As a counterpoint to spicy flavours, you can't go wrong. In some cuisines, it serves as a mop-cum-utensil for sopping up a gravy-thick stew.

But the joy of rice comes around when you start adding stuff to it. Risotto. Paella. Fried rice. Biryani. And the Deep South way: dirty rice. Now, my way with dirty rice is completely inauthentic. Regular members of The Readership will be aware that I have a tendency to read through the traditional method, and then merrily go my own way. But know this: my dirty rice is damn tasty and even… a little bit healthy.

Start, of course, with the star of the dish. For this, basmati or sticky rice won't give as good a result as plain ole long-grain. Cook it first, using whatever method suits, and let it cool slightly. My rice cooker, as ever, does sterling service here, and I'm sometimes frugal and forward thinking enough to throw a couple of corn cobs in the steaming basket to cook over the rice. Saves time, effort, energy etc.

Heat a couple of tablespoons of oil in a big, deep, frying pan, and when hot, add two teaspoons each of cumin and sweet paprika. If you're feeling frisky, throw a little chili powder in there too. Let that bubble for a minute or so. Now for some veg. Traditionally you'd add the cajun trinity of onion, celery and green pepper. I used a big spring onion and half a red pepper. I was feeling lazy, had a scallion to use up and there wasn't a green pepper in the house. I am unrepentent.

Aaaanyways. Give the veg a couple of minutes to soften, then add a handful of frozen peas, and a few pucks of frozen spinach. This stuff is genius. It softens quickly in a hot pan, adding a shock of greenery and all the benefits of a leafy green, without needing to cook down huge bags of the stuff. A cheeky way of getting some goodness into any stew or ragu.

Now, bear in mind you've just thrown frozen stuff into a hot environment. That means the temperature in the pan will drop, but you'll also add a little moisture, which will create a kinda-sorta sauce to coat the rice. Season, then simmer until the spinach has broken apart and the peas have gone bright green.

Now throw in a handful of raw prawns, and the rice. Stir through, and cook until the prawns have gone pink. A couple of minutes, which should be enough time to heat the rice through. Once all is steamy and sizzly, throw over a handful of chopped parsley, pile onto plates and dig in. Remarkably, I was organised enough to take a pic of the food. Doesn't happen often...

 

Needless to say, this is astonishingly versatile. Great with grilled chicken or fish, as part of a barbeque, or alongside a spicy stew. You can zazz it up with some cooked chicken, chorizo or sausage, maybe sweetcorn. As a weekday lifesaver, I think this is an essential part of the repertoire.

Oh, and I found myself humming this while I was at the stove. Dirty rice, I want you, dirty rice I need you, oh-whoa…

 

 

Bruges: Art, Architecture And Mortality

Bruges is a curious town. It's almost a bubble: a city that's also a World Heritage Site, a place that is home to hundreds of thousands of people, yet contains more functional medieval buildings per square foot than nearly any other urban centre on the planet. Ringed by a canal and a four-lane highway, Bruges is a place out of time, and one that embraces that most modern of money-making activities: tourism.

It is, without a doubt, an astonishingly pretty town. Centred on the town square, the Markt, Bruges is stuffed with ancient churches, beautiful statuary, imposing public buildings and many, many low-ceilinged dim little bars. Everywhere's walkable or, if you like, it's even quicker to whizz around on a bike. The canals that cut through the city are well worth a boat tour explore, giving you a different perspective on a place that offers new camera-fodder with every corner. There are many bridges but one, overlooking a weeping willow, is one of the most photographed sites in Europe. Cars are tolerated but, in the civilised fashion of most towns in the Low Countries, they're viewed as second-class citizens: on the narrow, winding streets of Bruges, the motor car is a liability.

 

The town is almost an gallery in itself, a lasting tribute to the explosion of artistic invention that came out of Belgium and Holland in the 14th and 15th centuries. The work of the Flemish Primitives and the sacred art that came before it is celebrated in the Groeninge Museum, which houses a wealth of local masterpieces. Medieval art has always been a bit of a slog for me, to be honest: shonky anatomy, static, lifelike poses and occasionally shocking bursts of violence. The Death Of Marcus Lucinius Crassus by Lancellot Blondeel is a sweetly rendered pastoral scene with… hang on, what's that in the corner? Ah, there's Crassus, tied to a rough framework of branches, having hot lead poured into his screaming maw. The surrealists at the end of the show are more to my tastes, with pride of place going to a Magritte. His calm, dry wit is a welcome tonic to the shrieking gilt-caked lunacy of the Flemish masters.

A ticket to the Groeninge Museum also gets you into the Arentshaus, and I can't recommend this highly enough. Home to works by Frank Brangwyn, a member of the Arts And Crafts movement in the UK who studied under William Morris, I instantly felt at home. His etchings, prints and linocuts have a fluid, joyful muscularity that manages to blend a sympathy with the human condition with a celebration of the everyday achievements of the working man. As a comics fan, I was reminded of Joe Kubert and Barry Windsor-Smith. As an art-lover, I was brought almost to tears by his astonishing series of lithographs depicting the passion and crucifiction of Christ. A must-see, to my mind. Also visit the garden, which contains four statues of the Horsemen Of The Apocalypse. Armoured, insectile and terrifying, they're part Terminator, part Dark Judge, all mean.

 

A five minute walk brings you to The Onze-Lieve-Vrouwekerk (Church Of Our Lady), which houses a Michelangelo Mother And Child in marble. Her calm serenity is breath-taking, and seems a perfect fit in a building that, while imposing, serves as an engine of faith to the Roman Catholic community that use it on a daily basis. There's nothing uppity about Michelangelo's Madonna. She and her child are at peace with the world.

 

 

Modern art gets more of a showing than you might expect in an old town like Bruges. The old St. John's Hospital, next door to the Church Of Our Lady, has a permanent exhibition of Picasso and his contemporaries (featuring, at the time of writing, a showing of Andy Warhols). There's a Dali museum on the Markt, and a cluster of sharp-edged modern statues on t'Zand, to the west of the centre. This is also home to the new Concert Hall and, while we were visiting, a big screen showing Belgium's first World Cup match. The big square was full to bursting with football fans in black, red and yellow, draped in flags and wearing foam afros. An example, perhaps, of an art happening for and by the people.

I haven't mentioned comics yet. How silly of me. The Belgians love their comics–how could they not in the birthpace of the sainted Hèrge? On this visit we sadly didn't make it to Brussels, which wears its love of the Ninth Art firmly on its sleeve, to the point of hosting a Museum Of Comics History. But Bruges has its own little corner of comics nirvana; De Striep, on Kaeterinastrass. On the outside it looks a little underwhelming, but once inside the place opens up like a puzzlebox. There's a gigantic range of bande desineé in Belgian, French and yes, even English. Upstairs houses a great range of prints and artbooks, and the secondhand shelves at the back are a treasure-trove of goodies. If you're a comic fan, you owe it to yourself to visit and support De Striep. I certainly found it tough to drag myself away.

 

As I said at the start, Bruges is a curious place. It's easy to buy chocolate, yet surprisingly tough to get a pint of milk. The bars are full every night, yet there's no real sign of trouble even late at night. If anything, the streets are eerily quiet after hours. Apart from one sanctioned underpass on the way to the train station, there's no graffiti or street art to be seen. Possibly the odd sticker on a lamp-post. It's very clean and very friendly. You do get the feeling that there's an element of theme park about the whole place, particularly at weekends when coach parties and school trips descend and the streets clog.

Nevertheless, it's a fun place to visit, with plenty to see and admire. It's perfect for a long weekend, and very romantic. Just make sure to leave room in your luggage for the chocs and beer that you'll need to bring back with you.

 

TLC has posted an evocative Flickr set of our travels: check it out.