Charles Purcell's Blog, page 4

“The life of a repo man is always intense”: why Repo Man was Harry Dean Stanton’s best film

“What was Harry Dean Stanton’s best movie: Repo Man or Paris, Texas?”

That was the question that sadly popped up on my Facebook feed with the overnight news that Harry Dean Stanton had passed away, aged 91.

Not to take anything away from Stanton’s other fantastic, memorable work (Twin Peaks et al), delivered by a character actor with his heart on his wrinkled sleeve and his soul on his weathered face, but for my greenbacks his greatest movie was Repo Man.

It never won the Palme d’Or like Paris, Texas. In fact, Alex Cox’s, low-budget cult comedy was underappreciated upon its release in 1984. But it won my heart. I’ve probably watched it more than any other comedy and I enjoy it every time.

“A volatile, toxic potion of satire and nihilism, road movie and science fiction, violence and comedy, the unclassifiable sensibility of Alex Cox’s Repo Man is the model and inspiration for a potent strain of post-punk American comedy that includes not only Quentin Tarantino (Pulp Fiction), but also early Coen brothers (Raising Arizona, in particular), Men In Black, and even (in a weird way) The X-Files,” wrote film critic Jim Emerson.

Stanton’s Bud, a veteran repo man with a hatred of hippies, Christians, rival repo men and those with poor credit history, is a masterclass in character acting. The dry bon mots drop from Stanton’s lips like blessed ash from a cigarette.

“See, an ordinary person spends his life avoiding tense situations … a repo man spends his life getting into tense situations,” Bud tells his young repo man apprentice Otto (Emilio Estevez in what I regard as his best role as well).

Those words stack up as one of the best raison d’etres I’ve ever heard from Hollywood.

And the lives of repo men Bud and Otto ARE hilariously intense, taking in everything from car chases, a lobotomised nuclear scientist with the corpse of an alien in the boot of his Chevy Malibu, the CIA, John Wayne in a dress, sex, drugs, violence and religion.

Stanton is the no-shit nihilistic centre of Cox’s satire on American society: the real deal in a world full of phoniness, his adventures set to a killer soundtrack featuring Iggy Pop, The Circle Jerks and Black Flag.

There is no redemption for anyone in Repo Man. Everyone is out to make a buck; aliens exist; the rules are for suckers; revenge is taken; the government is intrusive and brutal, shitting on the little man and the small businessmen.

Even our hero, Otto, a white suburbanite punk turned repo hustler, remains a reprobate to the end. He is never more hilarious than when he finds his old friend and workmate Kevin, brutally beaten, under a sheet in hospital, then briskly walks away with perfect comic timing.

Yet still we cheer on our repo men. They have a code: something that separates them from the cowardly average consumer, dulled as they are by society, seduced by organised religion, too afraid to break the rules.

“Look at those assholes, ordinary fucking people. I hate ‘em,” says Bud.

We are invited to hate ordinary people, too. And we do.

For all their faults, our repo men were alive. They lived.

So did Stanton.

And he brought it to the screen every time.

My new thriller Game Of Killers: The Spartan is out now as an ebook or paperback.

Top 10 things we want to see in Martin Scorsese’s Joker origin film

The news that the genius behind Goodfellas and Casino is taking on the origin story of the Clown Prince of Crime is about the most exciting cinematic news I’ve heard this year.

So let’s get to it – the top 10 things we want to see in Martin Scorsese’s Joker origin film

1. The Joker’s childhood

You know it’s going to be horrible. You know he didn’t come from a happy family.

Although it would be even more shocking if The Joker DID have a stable, happy childhood and exhibited none of the typical signs of a serial killer in his youth.

It would suggest that The Joker perhaps deliberately chose his way of life – chose to view the world as one giant, murderous joke.

2. The adult Joker before he became “The Joker”

Was he really a failed stand-up comedian?

A man driven to crime so he could afford to move his pregnant wife to a better neighbourhood as mentioned in The Killing Joke?

Maybe a street thug with big dreams in the vein of Mean Streets’s Johnny Boy?

3. A living, breathing Gotham City

“The intention is to make a gritty and grounded hard-boiled crime film set in early-’80s Gotham City that isn’t meant to feel like a DC movie as much as one of Scorsese’s films from that era, like Taxi Driver, Raging Bull or The King Of Comedy,” says director Todd Phillips.

4. How The Joker got his scars

Because the story is always changing.

Part of the fun for Phillips is going to be to capture how The Joker views the world. In The Killing Joke, The Joker says he constantly remembers his past differently.

Expect this Joker origin story to have a similarly fractured narrative, delivered through the mind of the most unreliable narrator of all.

5. His transformation into The Joker

We’re expecting something big here … Ralph Fiennes’s Red Dragon transformation on crack. And I’m thinking it would be cool to update the Joker and Batman’s first meeting to something beyond opposite sides of a vat of acid.

6. The Joker’s twisted philosophies on life

In particular, that it only takes one really bad day to take someone down the path to becoming The Joker.

And also The Batman.

7. No Jared Leto

The Joker will be a tough role to cast, considering Heath Ledger’s legacy.

I liked Leto’s Joker, but I can’t see him getting up again as the Clown Prince of Crime.

The advance buzz, according to Deadline’s Mike Fleming Jr, is that the film “will launch the character with a different actor, possibly younger”.

Better to bet Scorsese will cast either favourites De Niro or Di Caprio in supporting roles.

8. No sidekicks

No Harley Quinn, Killer Croc, Penguin or Alfred … and no Robin.

9. A killer soundtrack

From Mean Streets and Goodfellas all the way up to TV show Vinyl, Scorsese has spoiled us with his golden ear.

I’m hoping his Joker soundtrack won’t be just sourced from the ’80s.

10. And the Batman

The yin to Joker’s yang. The light to his shadow. The Control to his Chaos.

I’m thinking more Bale than Affleck.

And a final thought … wouldn’t it be cool if Bruce Wayne and the future Joker had a café scene like Pacino and De Niro in Heat?

My new thriller Game Of Killers: The Spartan is out now as an ebook and paperback.

Why GOT is one giant metaphor about the internet

In the beginning no one believes the internet is coming
Old dudes like the maesters dismiss that the internet is coming because they’re too stuck in their ways (work in legacy media)
Tiny, potentially disruptive start-ups (or “dragons”) aren’t regarded as a threat because they’re too small and no one believes they exist (can make money online)
The people warning that the internet is coming are all millennials
So naturally they’re the disruptive heroes of GOT
The Night King – leader of the white walkers and its key social media influencer – is created by forest millennials
Signs that the internet is still coming are dismissed as Gen X/boomer kings and queens squabble among each other, unable to present a united defence (find a way to “monetise” the net)
The army of the internet grows exponentially, its users becoming mindless zombies
By the time the “dragons” have grown up and ravaged the music, newspaper, entertainment and consumer industries, it’s too late to stop them
The internet arrives and everyone loses their minds

My new thriller Game Of Killers: The Spartan is out now as an ebook and paperback.

Top 10 reasons why you can’t become a superhero in real life

Ever thought you could be a superhero IRL?

Of course you have. So has Kick-Ass creator Mark Millar.

“My friends and I sat around thinking about costumes, we went to the gym, went to karate,” he told me in 2010 when I interviewed him for the Sydney Morning Herald.

“For about six months we were really serious about it. But we didn’t have the balls to do it. In our heads, we would have kicked everyone’s arse, but in reality we would have probably been killed on the first night.”

I’ve been thinking about Mark and his fantasy ever since I heard the news that Netflix had bought his comic-book  firm Millarworld, which includes characters and stories like Kick-Ass, Kingsman and Old Man Logan.

I think Kick-Ass and Old Man Logan TV series would be great.

But I also think that trying to become a superhero in real life would be a fool’s errand. Here’s the top 10 reasons why.

You’re not rich

As the Joker asks, where does Batman get all those wonderful toys? Answer: wherever he wants to. His superpower is that he’s rich.

And you’re going to need all that wealth to be a superhero … for your secret hideout, for a cool costume, for a Batmobile, for Batarangs and grappling hooks … and also for your giant medical bills.

You’re not bullet-proof

Remember what I just said about medical bills? If you’re going to be a superhero, expect to be injured … a lot.

If you’re lucky, you’ll have a faithful butler to tend your wounds or come rescue you when you’re trapped on a rooftop whacked out of your mind on fear gas.

If you’re not, the first blow from behind by a two-by-four will put you in a coma. And the first bullet you don’t dodge will probably kill you.

”You see Batman in comics beating up 10 guys at once but in reality all it takes is for someone to hit you with a stick and you’d end up in hospital for six months,” Millar told me.

You weren’t trained by ninjas or special forces

Did you go on a sabbatical to the Far East where you were trained by the League of Shadows in the ways of ninjutsu, theatricality and deception?

Ever served in Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan? Were you a member of special forces or other secret government program where you were trained to kill?

Did your “Big Daddy” raise you to be a total “Hit Girl”, teaching you 10 ways to rip out a man’s throat at an age when most other girls were interested in boy bands?

No?

If you don’t have extensive martial arts or military training, you’ll probably be killed on your first outing.

You’re not a lawbreaker

Hate to break it to you, but being a vigilante is illegal.

If you want to be a superhero, you have to be a criminal – to live outside the law. It’s not really a part-time gig that you can fit in with a regular, legit life.

Go put on a weird costume and punch someone for shoplifting and the only place you’ll be going is straight to jail.

You have a job you want to keep

Like in Fight Club, if you start turning up to work with mysterious bruises people are going to be suspicious.

Superman could get away with strange, sudden absences from The Daily Planet because he could type at 10,000 words a minute and quickly file his stories when he flew back into the office.

Meanwhile, Bruce Wayne was a self-employed billionaire: if he had his back broken by Bane, Alfred could explain away his absence by telling the press he was sailing around the Mediterranean with Russian models on his yacht.

“That’s totally Bruce Wayne,” the readers would say with a chuckle as they tried to suppress their envy for his One Percenter lifestyle.

But you’re not Batman or Superman.

You have a family

Want to be a superhero?

Best if you don’t have anyone in your life. That includes friends and family.

Batman wears the mask to instill fear into superstitious, cowardly criminals, as well as hide his identity and protect Alfred from retaliation.

Because, like in Kick-Ass, your enemies will most likely discover your identity … and your loved ones WILL suffer.

You weren’t bitten by a radioactive spider

Guess what happens when you’re bitten by a radioactive spider?

Nothing.

Maybe you’ll die if it’s a radioactive funnel web or something. But you won’t become Peter Parker.

And you won’t live a double life as a superhero/newspaper photographer … because neither is a realistic long-term profession.

You don’t have the right motivation

Wife and children wiped out in a mob crossfire? Parents killed by muggers?

No?

You don’t have the dark backstory to become a superhero.

You hate violence

Most people do. But if the movies and comics are any indication, the step from keyboard warrior to actual warrior involves lots of bloodshed.

Don’t don the tights if your ass can’t pay the cheque.

You’re not crazy

This is the big one, right? It’s knuckles for breakfast, death for dinner and more likely than not an early grave.

As Neil Gaiman once wrote in Whatever Happened To The Caped Crusader?, the ultimate reward for being Batman is that you get to be reincarnated as Batman.

Are you that much of a masochist that you want to fight The Joker and Bane for all eternity?

Thought not.

My new thriller Game Of Killers is out now as an ebook and a paperback.

This week’s GOT recap in one image

Fortysomething? Why Hollywood doesn’t know how to tell your story

When you reach your mid-40s, something becomes very clear – popular culture doesn’t know what to do with you.

You’re not a charming coming-of-age tale.

You’re not a story of redemption where an old dog is taught new tricks.

You’re not The Breakfast Club or Juno or The Graduate.

You’re not The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel.

You’re not Rick or Morty.

You’re not a yuppie or a hipster or a punk or a thirtysomething.

“My drug hell”? By the age of 45 you’ve either been through your drug hell or you’re dead.

You haven’t just lost your virginity at band camp or discovered a new lease on life with a summer-winter love.

You’re not buying your first house nor selling out of the rat race to get pissed every day with your mates in Majorca.

You’re not a young Captain Kirk having sex with nubile aliens or a Dr McCoy dispensing wry elder wisdom.  If you’re lucky, you’re one of the poor “redshirts” who only gets one line before he or she is killed, because no one cares about your character arc.

You’re neither the cocky Will Smith shooting down the aliens nor the grizzled general giving the commands back at HQ. Maybe you’re another type of redshirt whose jet gets shot down next to Smith’s, leading him to exclaim “woah” or “god damn!”

You’re the middle management dweeb in suspenders from Office Space who, coffee cup in hand, says to junior employees “if you could just work harder that’d be great”.

You’re the bitter middle-aged divorcee who moves to Tuscany to find a new lease of life through sex with young Latin Lovers.

You’re stuck between hygiene commercials where smiling women ride horses and do cartwheels and ads about over 50s insurance where grinning geriatrics go bowling.

You’re stuck between Hugh Jackman’s first and last Wolverine appearances.

In your 20s your heroes were ninjas. Now, in your 40s, your hero is your nutritionist.

Fortysomethings live in the uncanny valley of popular culture.

No one knows how to pitch to you. Hollywood doesn’t know what to do with you.

Perhaps your spirit animal is Trainspotting 2. You chose life, a job, a career, a family. You have a big plasma TV, a washing machine, one car in the garage and one on the street. You have good dental insurance and compatible friends who now prefer easy listening over Underworld and Barossa Valley chardonnay over “LAGER, LAGER, LAGER”.

In your 20s you were fuelled by bravado and testosterone, all unfulfilled potential. Now you’re in your 40s and having a heart attack on your treadmill. You’re like a sadder, older Begbie or Spud, trading scag for Viagra.

Or maybe you’re Gal Dove, the middle-aged gangster from Sexy Beast. Maybe you’ve gone to seed and no longer have the bottle for one final job. Maybe you’re Ben Kingsley’s bitch.

The only people who know how to tell your stories are the geniuses of the new golden age of television. Your salvation is HBO and showcase and challenging TV boxsets.

This is your middle-aged life.

My new thriller Game Of Killers: The Spartan is out now as an ebook and paperback.

Ten times Littlefinger was the smartest man in the room

For my money, Littlefinger is the smartest man in Game of Thrones: the Sun Tzu of Westeros. I find his quotes full of applicable life wisdom.

Here are my favourite 10.

“Fight every battle, everywhere, always in your mind. Everyone is your enemy, everyone is your friend. Every possible series of events is happening all at once. Live that way and nothing will surprise you.”

Critics of the latest episode found this to be nonsense, but I found it profound. Figuring out all the angles ahead of time is why Littlefinger is still alive when so many others are now lying in the dust.

“Always keep your foes confused. If they are never certain of who you are or what you want, they cannot know what you are likely to do next.”

Deception is vital in war.

“You know what I learnt losing that duel? I learnt that I’ll never win. Not that way. That’s their game, their rules.”

Don’t fight on your opponent’s terms and rules. Sun Tzu via Littlefinger.

“Chaos isn’t a pit. Chaos is a ladder.”

Perhaps his most famous quote and very true. Crisis equals opportunity.



“When the queen proclaims one king and the king’s Hand proclaims another, whose peace do the Gold Cloaks protect? Who do they follow? The man who pays them.” Call it the Golden Rule … whoever has the gold makes the rules.

“So many men, they risk so little. They spend their whole lives avoiding danger, and then they die. I’d risk everything to get what I want.”

YOLO meets fortune favours the brave.

“There’s no justice in this world, not unless we make it.”

Evil triumphs when good men and women do nothing.

“It doesn’t matter what we want, once we get it we want something else.”

Littlefinger knows all about the headonic treadmill and the endless nature of desire.

“We only make peace with our enemies. That’s why it’s called ‘making peace’.” Littlefinger channelling Don Corleone: keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

“Which is more dangerous, the dagger brandished by an enemy, or the hidden one pressed to your back by someone you never even see?”

Fear the enemy who isn’t in front of you.

Littlefinger’s talent is to defeat his enemies – Ned Stark, Joffrey – without open warfare ever being declared.

To quote Sun Tzu: “To win 100 victories in 100 battles is not the acme of skill. To subdue the enemy without fighting is the acme of skill.”

My new thriller The Spartan: Game Of Killers is out as an ebook and paperback.

“Facebook shuts off AI experiment after two robots begin speaking in their OWN language only they can understand”

UK Robotics Professor Kevin Warwick said: “This is an incredibly important milestone, but anyone who thinks this is not dangerous has got their head in the sand.

“We do not know what these bots are saying. Once you have a bot that has the ability to do something physically, particularly military bots, this could be lethal.”

Here’s the full piece.

I interviewed Warwick about 10 years ago in a piece about the rise of the machines.

“I think some of the time people like to write books with Hollywood endings and the Hollywood ending is that humans will be all right because robots can’t make a cup of coffee,” he said.

“If you say in the book that humans will all die off, no one wants to read that. Even Terminator gets crushed in the end. In reality it’s not the Terminator that gets crushed – it’s the humans that get crushed.”

Here’s my piece.

And for an exciting read in a world not yet dominated by machines, try Game Of Killers: The Spartan as an ebook or paperback.

Got my hands on the first printed copies of my new book

Exciting … definitely a great moment!

And you can buy the paperback here or here or the ebook here.

My imaginary child

I don’t have children. But if I did – and lived on the affluent north shore in totally different economic circumstances – then my day might go something like this.

Scene: local north shore café. My Mercedes four-wheel drive is parked outside in a five-minute zone, where it has now been for 20 minutes. An exotic dog yaps excitedly at my expensive shoes. Tired-looking foreign nannies wait behind me in the queue. Indian mynas squawk outside, gently defecating on the bust of a famous mayor.

Tired female café worker: “Here’s your coffee.” Glances back at the very long list of supplied allergies, including but not limited to: “Glutens, shellfish, dairy and poor people.”

Me: “You’re a LIFESAVER.” Takes a sip. “No sugar?”

Worker: “Yes.”

Me: “No milk?”

Worker: “Yes.”

Me: “No coffee?”

Worker: “Yes.”

Me: “Basically just hot water?”

Worker: “Yes.”

Me: “You’re an angel.” Takes another sip. “I’ve been up since seven. Well, the nanny has been anyway. Then took the kids to school. Then spin class. Emmanuel is a SLAVE DRIVER.”

Takes picture out of wallet to show picture of two boys to worker. The blond-headed boys look like Nicole Kidman’s bullying alpha brats from Big Little Lies. “Look at those faces. Aren’t I blessed?”

Worker: “They look a bit like Joffrey from Game Of Thrones.”

Me: “I love Game Of Thrones! My friends say I’m such a Cersei! Do you have Foxtel, too?”

Worker: “No. Our housing estate can’t get it.”

Me: “Oh.”

Worker: “Your kids go to St Rich Man’s, don’t they?”

Me: “Yes.”

Worker: “Private, isn’t it?”

Me: “You can’t trust the public school system.” Pause. “Where do you children go?”

Worker: “St Povo’s Public School.”

Me: “Oh.” My eyes emit the combination of sensitivity/pity that only the parent of private school children can deliver.

Worker: “Wasn’t St Rich Man’s recently in the paper?”

Me: “That was SUCH a palaver. There was a debate at the P&C to change to school motto from ‘by your hard work shall ye prosper’.”

Worker: “And what happened?”

Me: “We voted to change it to ‘by your inheritance shall ye prosper’.”

Worker: “Oh.”

Exotic dog yaps at my feet. “Quiet, Spartacus!”

Worker: “OMG! How cute!”

Me: “Isn’t he?” I hand him a treat from the glass bowl marked “dog treats”, leaving a $2 coin on the counter. Spartacus snaps it in half with small but powerful jaws. “Maybe Spartacus would like a little doggycino?”

Worker: “Sorry, we don’t do them anymore. Not since that investment banker tried to sue us because he said his dog was lactose intolerant.” Worker tries to pat the dog, which suddenly snaps at her, possibly because she doesn’t own any investment properties. “What sort of dog is it?”

Me: “A Hungarian Flesh Eater.” Hold small dog to face. “Where would I be without my little precious wubby-bubby?” The Hungarian Flesh Eater licks my face, then turns back to the worker and growls.

Worker: “Didn’t I read that a Hungarian Flesh Eater bit a kid in the face …”

Me: “That was TOTALLY that child’s fault. Totally!”

Worker: “But didn’t the dog jumped three fences to attack the child …”

Me: “Where were the parents of the child, I ask you? They’re the TRUE monsters.” Something dings in the background. “Saved by the bell!” I laugh nervously, almost guiltily.

Worker: “Here’s your banana bread.”

Me: “But it has no bread?”

Worker: “Yes.”

Me: “So just a banana, then?”

Worker: “Yes.” She hands over the banana. As I look into her eyes, I catch a glimpse of her existential pain: her pain at being trapped in the lower echelons of the capitalist system, which keeps the poor down and rewards rent-seeking over effort.

A wave of self-realisation threatens to overwhelm me. I feel dizzier than I did in spin class. I grab the banana and flee, rushing past the foreign nannies. “Well, don’t work too hard!” I shout gaily.

I unlock the 4WD and toss a protesting Spartacus into the back seat.

I quickly start the ignition, leaving behind the unfulfilled dreams of the working class and the ranger about to give me a parking ticket.

My new thriller Game Of Killers: The Spartan is out now as an ebook and paperback.