The Fullness Of Paradise – A Special Project With Amouage

Once again came the momentary struggle against the lack of control over my drifting body, to be replaced by a sense of surrender It is with tremendous excitement that I’m able to give you the very first glimpse of The Fullness Of Paradise, a modern fable I’ve been asked to write for the Oman-based perfume brand, Amouage. At this stage, the only part of the … Continue reading The Fullness Of Paradise – A Special Project With Amouage

News Of The World, I Care A Lot, Mank and others – Screen Time February 2021

Looking back at the list of films I managed to notch up in February, I’m struck by how many of them veered towards the bizarre. For instance, there was The Prom, Ryan Murphy’s colourful film version of the Broadway musical about celebrity types injecting an acceptance of diversity into small-town America. The shopping-mall-set rendition of the Bible-basher-bashing Love Thy Neighbour (“There’s no way to separate / Which rules you can violate / Let’s hope you don’t masturbate”) certainly scored high on the weirdness meter. But it was several notches below the outright bonkers-ness of Barb And Star Go To Vista Del Mark (Josh Greenbaum) which featured, amongst many other surprises, a talking crab, friendly sea spirits and the sight of Jamie Dornan delivering a (convincing!) Eurovision-style song-and-dance number containing the immortal lyrics, “Seagulls in the sand, can you hear my prayer?” Dornan was perhaps the best thing in this ludicrously enjoyable romp, striking just the right balance between straight and silly.

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Le Mans ’66, The White Tiger, Assassins and others – Screen Time January 2021

Seven films in one month is quite a poor achievement for me, and as I type these words, I’m trying to work out why I didn’t treat myself to more in-house cinematic outings. But the reasons aren’t forthcoming. Was it all to do with the extra-grey, Covid-enhanced January malaise by which so many of us seemed to be dragged down? Or was I just a bit too busy with writing commitments? I feel certain that, had we been in the ‘normal world’ (what does that even mean any more?) I would have managed to go to the cinema on more than seven occasions, but in the all-pervading spirit of counting our blessings, I suppose I ought to declare that seven is better than none.

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Best Films Of 2020

Surprise, surprise, my attempts to keep this blog updated with regular posts in 2020 failed. Mind you, I can’t take all the blame this time. A certain microscopic nasty caused what we might call ‘some disruption’ to all our lives last year, and although I had (and continue to have) a great deal to say about the situation, much of it was probably best kept to myself. Or, to be more precise: best relegated to the fiction-forming part of my brain, ready to emerge years from now in a short story or novel.

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In The Skin Of Uncertainty

Ever since I first came across them, I’ve been haunted by these words from Michael Ondaatje’s In The Skin Of A Lion: “the extreme looseness of the structure of things”. I can’t remember what context they were in – I can’t even remember very much about the book – but they emblazoned themselves on my soul with what has turned out to be pretty solid permanence.

To me, the phrase has always been about embracing uncertainty, about giving oneself up to not knowing, to an absence of control, to smallness, to transience, to greyness. And I suppose that’s why I’ve been dwelling on it a great deal in recent months. Because if there’s one thing the current pandemic has flagged up – and goodness knows, it’s flagged up more than a few – it’s that some people really can’t cope with uncertainty.

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Brexit Day

At this heart-fracturing moment, we say that we did the best we could. But maybe we didn’t. We marched. We signed. We petitioned. We emailed. We tweeted. We posted. We talked and talked and talked. We sang. We shouted. We chanted. We honked. We hooted. We hollered. We stickered. We t-shirted. We badged. We bannered. We leafleted. We postered. We tried, we tried, we tried. … Continue reading Brexit Day

Seated

He sits on the edge of the bath, biting his lower lip, hard. They mustn’t hear him crying. His hands grip the bath tub tight, knuckles pushing through the skin.

He tries to think about nothing but the force of his grip. On the bath tub. The coolness beneath his hands. His eyes squeezed shut, pushing the tears out. Liquid streaming down his face. A few drops falling onto his legs. But no sound. Not a single sound emerging from his mouth. His wide open, silent mouth. 

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